As usual, George brought up the rear of the expedition.  He always seemed to lag behind the rest of the party, most usually because some kind of mushroom caught his eye and he simply<em>had</em>to go run off and take a sample, to be catalogued in his mushroom press.  He had no doubt that his lollygagging was a constant source of vexation to Cyd, who always seemed to be eager to be pressing forward.  Lucien, on the other hand, didn't particularly seem to mind; George's idiosyncrasies were a tolerable exchange for his skill at smithing and maintaining arms and armor.  He had mentored under the great "Swarthy" Mac Mannis, one of the most respected armorers of Lockhaven for most of George's Mouseguard career, and had picked up much of his knowledge.   Mac Mannis was heard to remark that George would, perhaps, eventually outshine even himself someday--if he could ever keep his attention focused on one thing for more than five minutes at a time.   Unfortunately, George was cursed with an insatiable curiosity about  everything (he was known as "Curious George" to some of the other Guardmice).  Whether the plants and animals around Lockhaven, or metals and mechanics, George was utterly, utterly fascinated by the world around him.  He was particularly interested in how things worked.  He spent much of his spare time tinkering with one thing or another; he had invented the sawtooth gear, and had almost--<em>almost</em>--perfected a serviceable crossbow that could shoot further than a longbow.  His problem was that he couldn't seem to find a tensile material that would hold up under the stress of the winding mechanism; most of his experiments to date usually ended up with a pile of splintered wood and he with a few fresh bruises.<br/><br/>When he'd heard about the mission to Gilpledge he was eager to volunteer.  He had always respected Lucien, who had earned a reputation within the Mouseguard for being a savvy, capable leader; but more than that, he was an Honorable Mouse.  He could not be bribed, could not be bought.  He was tough, but fair.  He always listened to both sides of a story and decided what he believed to be right, regardless of his personal feelings on the matter.    The fact that Lucien was Mentor to Doreen was not a fact that escaped George's attention, either.  He had been enamored of the young Tenderpaw the very first time he had laid eyes on her, and had finally attracted her attention after many clumsy attempts at courting.  It was still very early in their relationship, but it seemed that both mice were favourably disposed to the other, a fact that thrilled George to no end.<br/><br/>His own Mentee, Lucretzia, was something of a mystery.  She was an Apiarist from Sprucetuck, an intellectual and a prodigy with potions.  George was convinced that she was actually much, much cleverer than he was, but that she took great pains to avoid letting him know it, for inscrutable reasons of her own.  Whenever he spoke about his experiences with the Mouseguard, or about the various properties of the seeds, roots, and stems of the flora they encountered along the way, she would always focus her entire attention upon him, staring intently while she soaked up every word.  It was a bit disconcerting, seeing those carbuncle eyes hone in on him while her ears pricked forward attentively; and sometimes he would falter or lose his train of thought.  He wished she wouldn't listen so...<em>aggressively</em>.    He still wasn't sure why the Mouseguard assigned her to him, but he trusted that there was a good reason behind it.<br/><br/>One evening, on the road to Dorigift, when the party had made camp and George was tending to the male mice's armor, polishing the beetle leather and oiling the overlapping scales with sunflower oil, he glanced over and saw Cyd writing in what seemed like a little notebook.  As George kept a similar journal of his own (mostly for his mushrooms), he couldn't suppress his curiosity.<br/><br/>"I couldn't help but notice," he said,  "that you write in that book a fair bit.  I suppose I was rather curious," he added, "I don't know that anyone else is keeping any sort of notes like that on the road."<br/><br/>Cyd shrugged.  "Well, I keep track of the weather through the day- the wind, the clouds, any precipitation, what I can tell about the temperature.  Weather's pretty important when you're out in it, like I'm sure you know.  There are some mice around who like to use these observations to help figure out if there are any patterns or something like that, to help predict the weather."   He handed the book over to George, who flipped open to a random page.   He saw that Cyd had kept meticulous notes about the date, the weather, and predictions about what tomorrow would be like.   He rifled through a few pages, and found that Cyd's guesses were, more often than not, pretty much on target.<br/><br/>"Wow," he said, impressed, as he handed the book back.  George had rarely paid attention to the weather, being far more too curious about things on the ground.<br/><br/><hr/><br/>The group's time in Dorigrift was largely uneventful.  They delivered their bundle of letters and packages, exchanged news with the colony's leaders, and bought additional supplies for the journey to Gilpledge.  On the evening that they were due to leave, Cyd said that he would scout the surrounding paths.  "Anyone feel like coming with me?" he asked.  Doreen immediately volunteered--she rarely passed up the opportunity to volunteer for anything.  She was ever eager, ever alert, always ready to learn anything anyone would teach.  Lucretzia and Lucien, on the other hand, remained silent.<br/><br/>"I fear we'll just slow you down," he smiled at Cyd.  "You two are our fastest, most nimble mice in our group.  We'll be here when you get back."<br/><br/>So saying, he returned his attention to the crossbow, and made another adjustment with a tiny spanner.  He had found some twisted mulberry roots in the grasslands around Sprucetuck that, when dried, seemed particularly promising as potential bowsprings.