"It'll be fine! It'll be fine~!" Brandy replied to Alice's concern about the possibility of them not getting any payment. Although, judging from the fact that she was laughing while saying it did somewhat suggest that the satyress wasn't perhaps 100% concerned with getting paid in the first place. "We'll catch him, give him a soak and all's goo- Oh! Well... Muds..."

Brandy's later-most words were directed at the fact that Francoise had just taken a turn, run through a narrow alley and passed through the backyard of some of the local dwellings. Why was this bad? Well, some housewives had decided that the weather was nice and thus gone to hang out their laundry in the back... Which Francoise, a very large and very mmuddy poodle, had just decided to run past, at full speed... Brushing against said newly laundered linens... Leaving a grafitti tagging of his presence on most of then. What made this even worse was the fact that many of the laundering housewives were also out back, alongside their now frehsly stained formerly clean clothes, blankets and other textiles... And, they also saw the two girls who were chasing after the culprits.

Needless to ay, it did not take long for angry words to be fired off, followed by enraged shouting and, then to top it all off, some additional chasers - armed with rolling pins - now hurdling after the trio. It appeared that this very simple task had suddenly become unexpectedly complicated, and dangerous, in more ways than one. Brandy, although further ahead of the angered victims of the muddied laundry, was apparently too focused on Francoise to even make much note of their additional, new purusers. That is, until Francoise finally stopped...

... At the market. When he leapt into the stall of the local huntsman, and began chowing down on some of the fine, prime cuts of elk, deer and other wild game that had been put up for sale. Needless to say, the huntsman was as enraged and outraged as the laundry-women, and Brandy waas the first to get an earful when she eventually skidded to a halt infront of the crumpled tables and crates of the meat-stall.

"[b][i]THE HECK IS THE MEANIN' OF THIS!?[/i][/b]" A certain hunter cried out, spit flying from his mouth as froth formed at each edge of said orifice. "[b][i]WHY AIN'T YA KEEPIN' THIS MENACE ON A LEASH!?"/i][/b]
"Maa-ha-ha~ Well, it's not technically [i]our[/i] dog, y'see..."
"[b][i]ThEN WHY IN BLAZES ARE YA CHASIN' IT!?[/i][/b]"
"Uhh... Well... We... were kinda.. taking him for... a ... uh.. walk... And he... sort of... Kinda... Maybe... ran off... on his own...?"
"[b][i]THERE'S NOTHIN' 'SORTA', 'KINDA' OR 'MAYBE' ABOUT THIS! HE'S EATIN' MY MEATS![/i][/b]"
"Maa-ha..... [i]Eatin' your meats[/i]... Err, I mean! Down, Francoise! Down! Bad boy! Come here, ya lil' rascal."

Brandy waded into the mess of collapsed furniture and spilled cuts of meat and ... More meat... Leaving poor Alice to catch up and, subsequently, deal with the half-a-dozen-or-so angry housewives, armed with aforementioned rolling pins, that were bringing up the rear. The satyr was now busy trying to wrestle and pull the dog out from his self-appointed smorgasbord  buffet.