Chapter 1: Chapter 1: On the Run

Sunlight painted the high towers of Old Town. The sun itself hung low in the sky, sinking lower to the approaching evening. The unusually clear day created a faint cloud of relaxed delight, the people of Gray Gate City looking forward to an evening of drinks, laughing, and deep discussion.

The market in West Old Town was winding down. Stalls and booths slowly began storing their wares and taking down their signs. Despite the day drawing to a close, dozens of peoples from various backgrounds lingered, trying to find a last moment sale or deal. Orcs negotiated with food merchants. Mages stood around several potion sellers, discussing arcane theories. Clusters of Norden men and women moved from booth to booth, looking for a trinket or book for a loved one. 

The Old Town Market was a favored place in the inner-city walls. Many coins were exchanged for all manner of items from food to tools. In the more secretive alleys of the market, artifacts and secrets were exchanged in the shadows for precious coins.

The scents ranged from jewelry to fresh meat. It was a kaleidoscope of sights and smells that added to its popularity. The market was place to for all walks of life to gather and discuss the many events in Gray Gate City.

Shadows lengthened as booths closed one by one. From a dark alley, a snout poked from the shadows and sniffed at the air. Triangular ears twisted as a pair of dark, green eyes stared across the way.

Clyde gave his assistant a tired gaze. The young man was putting things away in chests, but was moving slowly. Clyde shook his head, knowing Jep was thinking about his new sweetheart. The young man could do nothing else but speak about her the entire day they worked the booth. It was near enough for Clyde to imagine clawing his ears out so he didn’t have to hear another word on her beauty and infectious laugh.

Clyde turned his attention to the hanging, skinned bodies of rabbits. A tired sigh touched the air as he shifted his gaze back to his assistant.

“Jep, put the rabbits away first. Those other items can wait,” the butcher said as he rubbed the bridge of his nose.

“Oh, my apologies,” Jep said as he stood up from a chest and took hold of three of the six rabbits hanging.”

“Stop apologizing,” Clyde said as he shook his head. “Just get it done. You’ll never get anywhere if you apologize for everything.”

Jep nodded as he put the three skinned rabbits into a chest. He stood up and looked at his employer with curious eyes.

“Why do always want the rabbits put away first? You always ask me to do that first, but never told me why?”

Clyde shook his head again. “You never asked. You spend most of your time apologizing and never asking a question. Your new sweetheart must have changed you enough to ask questions.”

Jep smiled. “Laura is wonderful. She sets my heart aflame and I dare not extinguish its flames.”

The butcher let out a chuckle. “It would seem I hired a poet instead of a butcher’s assistant. But to answer your question, we put the rabbits away first because it’s the favorite meal for the fox.”

It was Jep’s turn to chuckle. “The fox seen around Old Town? I thought it was just a rumor. No fox could get into Old Town without passing through New Town. It would be slaughtered before it even reached an inner gate.”

“It’s no rumor. I’ve seen…” Clyde’s eyes widened as he looked past Jep.

Reality grew crystal clear as a furry body leapt up. Snout up and mouth open, the dark red fox clamped sharp teeth on a hanging skinned rabbit. Before Clyde could get another word out, the fox pulled and the raw rabbit was ripped from its hook and disappeared over the edge of the booth.

“You little bastard!” Clyde shouted as he grabbed a cleaver from a lower, booth shelf.

Jep’s eyes widened as his portly boss slammed a thick hand on the booth counter and vaulted his entire body over it. Stocky legs barely bent as he landed on the cobblestone street. Clyde turned his attention to a dark alley, barely seeing the furry tip of the creature’s tail.

“Close the booth and bring everything back to the shop!” Clyde ordered as he broke into run.

Jep watched with astonished eyes, seeing his portly boss run like a skilled courier bringing a letter to the Grand Magus.

Clyde charged into the alley with hard eyes and was gone.

Long shadows were interrupted by a small, furry fox darting along. It moved with liquid dexterity and speed, hopping over trash and bounding off stone walls. Paws splashed in murky puddles as the fox shot past like an arrow from a bow.

The taste of meat nearly overwhelmed the fox as he ran with his pilfered catch in his maw. Despite the alluring taste, there was no time to sit and enjoy his stolen meal. The fox turned his head as he ran, glancing behind him. Knowledge caressed his mind as he saw the butcher still on his tail.

The butcher barely huffed as he moved with stunning alacrity. An arcane amulet bounced out from the top of his shirt, giving off a dim glow as he kept pace with the fox.

The fox’s eyes narrowed for a moment before turning his snout forward and increasing his pace. Memories filled his mind, alongside his plan, as paws blurred under him. Days were spent watching the butcher from secret places. The butcher had a steady, routine schedule, much like most of the butchers in Old Town. It was so precise, the fox knew the exact moment to strike.

For the last three days, the butcher often barked orders at his assistant like they were related. The young man would scramble and apologize as the older man looked on with disappointed eyes. It was an odd dynamic, but the fox noticed the patterns from watching them. The furry creature knew he had to be quick and plan out his escape. Word of his raids started to get around and the fox had to make his plans a little more elaborate.

The fox turned his head again and his eyes widened as the butcher was over him with his cleaver held high. Paws shifted and the fox leapt and bounded off a wall. The silver cleaver came down in quick slashes, each one missing the fox by several inches. A quick jump off another alley wall and the fox was on the move. It darted down a thinner alley and glanced back to see the butcher still hot on his trail.

Let’s see if he can get thinner.

The fox slowed down and the butcher smirked. He darted to the creature and lifted his cleaver for a killing blow. The fox shifted on his paws and darted into an impossibly thin alley. The cleaver blurred down and missed him by an inch, the critter walking down the thin alley with raw rabbit in its mouth.

The alley was about two feet wide and smelled of raw sewage. The fox didn’t have to look back, knowing the butcher was much too hefty to squeeze in after him. A sly smile appeared along the critter’s full mouth as the butcher roared obscenities.

“You won’t live much longer! I’ll alert every butcher and shield of a rabid fox. You will be cut up into pieces the fed to the rats! I swear it!” the butcher roared like a mad man.

The fox trotted along until he reached his planned spot. He looked up to a window that was always locked, most likely because of the smell. Legs bent and the furry creature leapt onto the windowsill. With a turn and shift, the fox leapt up onto another one, and a third.

When he saw the darkening sky, he leapt up to a roof edge. Simple relief washed over the small creature as he trotted a few feet and sat down on his haunches. He put down his stolen rabbit and took in a deep inhale. His pointed snout turned and green eyes gazed out to the splendor of Old Town.

Towers lined the inner walls of Old Town. They stabbed high into the sky, the tallest structures in the inner city. The six towers were covered in silver and gold runes, each one holding different meanings. The towers themselves were not thin, lookout towers. They were immense and broad, each one like a small, inner kingdom within their walls. They were equal distance from each other, creating a protective ring to the famous inner city.

The buildings and homes within Old Town were nearly as beautiful as the towers. They were pristine, clean, and well built. Polished wood and fine stone gave them an aristocratic and wealthy flair. Alongside them, beautiful statues graced corners to cobblestone streets and stylish runes ran along many walls of homes. Plumes of smoke billowed up from chimneys, the scents of meals pervading over the immense inner city.

The fox sighed as he drank it in.

It still takes my breath away, every time I see it.

The fox drank it in for a moment longer. The sun sank lower, it’s brilliant light dimming as the blue sky turned a yellowish pink.

The fox lowered his maw and clamped down on the raw rabbit carcass, when a door slammed opened.

Dark green eyes turned to see two guards in blue, light armor, staring at him. Each of them was armed with a crossbow.

“There it is!” one guard said as he aimed.

The fox bolted as a pair of twangs filled the air. A crossbow bolt struck the flat roof edge and bounced away. The second one flew inches over the fox’s head as he darted away. Paws touched the roof edge and the fox leapt across a ten-foot gap between medieval buildings.               

The breeze caused the fox’s fur sway along his body as he leapt to freedom.

Paws landed on the opposite roof. The critter turned his head and glanced back to see the city guards pulling back the strong cords to their crossbows so they could reload.

Crossbows are too heavy to reload quickly. I have plenty of time.

The fox leapt from roof to roof. He didn’t bother to look back, knowing the Shield Guard would not be making any brave leaps from rooftop to rooftop. They were skilled and strong on the ground, but up here, the fox ruled.

The fox leapt to a building edge and looked down. A wide street stretched out to his right and left. Across the cobblestone street, the inner-city wall stood, with an immense tower on either side of it. The wall was wide enough for guards to do their rounds. Archers were often seen patrolling the inner wall, alongside student mages taking a break from their studies.

The fox eyed the inner wall. It was near dusk and the walkway was nearly deserted, the city guards changing from day to night shift. It was the perfect time to make the dangerous leap and cross over into New Town.

Green eyes glanced over the walkway to the outer ring of Gray Gate. Odd homes and cracked buildings filled the outer ring of the city. Odd smells touched the fox’s sensitive nose. It was a blend of piss, decay, sewage, and cooking meals.

Ahhhh! The scent of freedom.

The fox glanced to the right and left of the wall. When it seemed all was clear, he backed up. Muscles moved with liquid ease as he moved back about ten feet. The fox hefted the dead rabbit in his teeth to judge the weight. Tail was low as he stared ahead and saw the barely noticeable point of the roof. It gave just enough extra room for him to complete the leap. From any other place along the inner wall edge of Old Town, he would miss by several inches and fall to his death, or surely a broken leg.

Body coiled and ready to make the daring charge and leap, the fox prepared for freedom.

A crossbow bolt struck and bounced off a spot of the stone roof next to him. The fox turned and glanced to the pair of city guards, one was reloading and the other was aiming.

They’ve gotten a lot braver since the last few times!

The fox burst forward into a charge. Paws and legs propelled him as he kept his eyes on the moment of freedom.

The guard aimed at the fleeing fox. He followed it as it reached the edge of the roof and jumped. A finger pulled back on the trigger and a hard twang filled the air.

The fox soared through the air as the bolt missed him.

Maybe next time!

The fox sailed across the large gap between the buildings and the wall edge. Paws outstretched as he firmly kept his prize within his jaws.

An archer stepped out from a tower doorway. He let out a tired yawn before glancing around with weary eyes. When something caught his attention, he blinked to see a dark red fox soaring across the street and land on the inner wall walkway.

“Kill it!” a shield guard shouted as he reached the edge and pointed at the fox.

The archer unslung his bow with practiced skill as he ran. He reached over his shoulder and drew an arrow from his quiver with superb ease. He nocked an arrow, pulled back, and aimed in a blink of an eye.

The fox leapt up to wall edge and instantly jumped. A bowstring twang touched the edge of his sensitive hearing and he twisted his body. The arrow missed by half an inch as the fox righted himself, ready to make his landing on an old, cracked roof. The moment his front paws touched the rooftop, he twisted and darted for another roof.

The archer’s eyes narrowed as he pulled another arrow, nocked it and aimed.

Almost there!

The fox leapt for a shorter roof. One more leap after that and he would be free to enjoy his meal.

A distant twang caused his pointed ears to twitch. The furry fox leapt and twisted his body again, only for the arrow edge to slice across his back hip. A searing pain burned through alert senses. The fox’s paws touched the roof. He scrambled across it for a few feet before leaping off again.

Pain buzzed as the fox leapt for the dirty cobblestone street. When he landed, the buzzing pain exploded. A left back leg trembled weakly and he burst into a half-trot and half-run for a dark and dismal alley.

I will not starve tonight!

The fox held onto his skinned rabbit as he limped further into the dark alley.

The smells were worse in New Town. The fox ignored the stench as he limped along. Foul water dripped into muddy puddles. Grime and dirt covered everything. Patches of moss clung to cracked walls. The scent of decay was a like a putrid blanket wrapped around a waterlogged corpse.

The fox carried on, a small relief filling his small body. Pain flared along his back hip. He turned and saw blood dripping from a gash along his hip. It wasn’t deep enough to maim him, but it was deep enough to make every step hurt.

If the arrowhead stabbed into me instead of grazing me, I might really be in trouble. Thank the star goddess for some luck.

The fox limped out of an alley and crossed a puddle strewn street. Thoughts churned as the fox made it to another alley. Memories of first arriving in New Town and resigning himself to making it his new home. Despite the name, New Town was a slum for those who could not afford to live in Old Town. It was steeped in poverty, surrounding the inner city. An outer wall ringed New Town, but it was cracked and decayed. Its lookout towers were barely manned, the mages within Old Town not bothering to staff them to full strength. Even the Shield Guard would not come into New Town unless they were investigating a crime that happened on Old Town streets.

The fox moved to an alley edge and looked out. Some people lingered nearby, speaking with a woman in dirty white leather armor. She had a mace at her hip and a symbol of a lantern on her arm.

The fox waited as the people talked with the paladin from the Lantern Order. Lanterns were a sub-order to the Order of the Sun. They kept the peace and helped the people of New Town when the Shield Guard couldn’t be bothered, which was most of the time.

When it seemed like the paladin and townspeople were sufficiently distracted, the fox limped across the dirty street and into deepening shadows of another alley.

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The slow walk through the twisting and turning alleys caused the fox’s eyes to slowly blink in pain. Every step hurt, but he knew, if he stayed still, some foul critter or hungry brigand would take his meal away.

The alley opened up into a green area. The fox looked on, knowing that the closer he was to the outer wall, the less clustered the shacks and decayed building there were. He scanned the area, making sure nothing was lurking nearby, ready to snatch his prize. His gaze caught sight of a familiar black house.

The fox stared at the black house. The house itself was two stories, and made of pitch-black wood. Stonework was incorporated into the design, giving it a sturdy and gloomy appearance. Curtains were shut behind cracked windows. A weathervane of a raven stood on the very top of the slanted roof home. It gave off dismal aura, like it contained ghosts and witchcraft. 

He knew, just on the other side of it, was a large enough crack in the outer wall to let him slip through and make it back to his den. He just had to be sure she wasn’t there to spot him.

The fox put out one paw, ready to bolt past the black house and to freedom, when he froze.

The sound of barking hounds touched his sensitive ears. Muscles were paralyzed as fear spiraled.

No, not the hounds.

The fox darted across the grass. Terror filled his eyes as he pushed through the pain. Hope glowed as he pictured the wide crack, his portal to safety.

When the pain flared, his back leg gave out. The fox tumbled into the tall grass as the barking grew louder and closer. The rabbit fell from his mouth and the fox let out a yip in pain.

In a panic, the fox turned his head and caught the scent of men and hounds. He struggled to get back up and weakly grabbed the dead rabbit. He limped a few paces, unsure there was enough time to get away and keep his prize. Sorrow painted his eyes, survival dictating that if he dropped the rabbit, he could get away by the skin of his teeth.

Starving for one more night won’t kill me, I hope.

The sun sank lower behind the horizon. The last rays of light coloring the sky in a deep orange. Shadows lengthened as another chilly night approached.

The fox glanced to the side to see the dark outlines of guards and leaping dogs. For others, it would be a sign of safety, for the fox, it was a symbol of death.

The grip of his jaw loosened. Just as he was ready to drop his prize and limp away to safety, a black door opened.

The fox turned his head to see an older woman in a black dress step out of the black home. She had a stern, but kind look as she stepped across the porch and stood by a wood pillar to the front roof overhang. Gray eyes scanned the area. Long black hair flowed from a widow’s peak into cascading waves, framing her features. A lock of white hair stabbed from her right temple and flowed along with the rest of her hair. Black boots covered her feet.

The fox hunkered down in the semi-tall grass. He stared at her, waiting for a moment for her to look away or return to her home. If she spotted him, she could tell the city guards the direction he went and draw them closer to his den. There would be no other place to hide for long and that meant he would have to leave Gray Gate and never come back.

The woman turned her gaze to a patch of tall grass and her eyes gleamed in the approaching evening.

“I can see you, little fox,” she called out.

I’m dead.

The fox rose up from the tall grass with a skinned rabbit in his mouth, and simply stared at the woman.

The woman in black smiled at him before the barking in the distance caused her to look to the side. The fox saw a black feather sticking out from her hair by her ear.

“I assume they’re after you?” she said in a low tone.

The fox remained still, unsure if he should take his chances and run for it anyway.

The barking grew louder, accompanied by the shouts of men and women.

“The rabbit looks tasty,” the woman in black smiled, but her eyes held a cunning shine. “If you’re willing to share, I will make sure they move along.”

The barking grew louder.

Maybe my luck is holding.

The fox limped toward the porch and the strange woman.

“Quickly, inside,” the woman said as the fox limped onto the stairs and across the porch.

She watched as the fox slipped in, past the partially open black door. With a knowing smile, she turned and watched a group of city guards and a pack of leashed hounds emerge from a nearby street. They all shifted their focus to the woman and the black house and made a beeline for her. The dogs jumped and pulled on their chain leashes, the scent of the fox overpowering any sense of self-control.

The woman leaned against the pillar and smiled as the group approached. City guards eyed her with wary eyes and stern expressions. They approached, but kept a steady distance between them and the woman on the porch.

“Evening, bucklers,” the woman said with wicked smile.

“Watch your tongue, crone!” a guard spat back.

“Crone? I hardly think a woman of thirty and eight years is a crone. I still have two years before I take on the honor of being a genuine crone. When that happens, I shall start eating children like a true crone of the woods, beginning with yours.”

“Witch!” the guard growled and grabbed the pommel of his sheathed short sword. He drew it a few inches when another guard grabbed his wrist and shook his head.

“She is off limits,” the other guard hissed with disgust.

The woman gave a single nod. “You must be new to the Shield Guard. That’s alright, with time, you will get to know what you can and cannot do.”

The guard with his partially drawn sword, eyed his fellow guard before turning his gaze to the woman in black. He relented and let the sword slip back into its sheath.

“How can I help the Shield Guard on this chilly evening?” the woman said with a pleasant smile.

The hounds barked with rabid frenzy, everyone of them staring at the partially open front door.

“Calm down!” one guard yelled at the pack of dogs.

The guard that nearly drew his blade, eyed the woman with furious eyes. “Did a fox run through here?”

The woman blinked as she kept her pleasant smile. “A fox you say?”

The guard let out a scathing exhale. “The fox in question has been terrorizing the market. It has been seen, many times, and has stolen meat that has been legally hunted. There has been rumors of it being rabid. It could infect the populace and must be put down.”

“I hadn’t known the Shield Guard to take on hunting animals that simply want to survive. What’s next? Will you be imprisoning rats for stealing morsels of food? Or maybe their fleas because they carry disease? You may wish to arrest the many raccoons, possums, and wolf spiders that inhabit the lands around Gray Gate, just to be safe?”

The guards looked at the woman with murderous intent.

The woman in black leaned her head against the pillar and looked at the guards like they were children playing an ill-conceived version of hide and seek, where many were searching for only one.

“I doubt a fox would linger about with so many dogs present. It’s most likely long gone. But if I do see any foxes, I will be sure to notify the Shield Guard right away.”

The guard looked to his fellow guards. They all looked at one another, a few of them shrugged. The dogs stared at the front door with intense eyes as the scent filled their sensitive noses.

The leader eyed the woman and then the door behind her. “The hounds seem to think the fox may be in your very home.”

The woman in black smiled. “Who’s in charge, you, or the hounds?”

“I’m in charge!” the man said loudly.

The woman crossed her arms. “Usually those in charge don’t have to shout it. But, since you seem to accuse me of harboring a dangerous animal, you are free to search my home,” the woman said as she stood up and turned with an open hand to the black door.

The leader took a step forward when the woman continued speaking.

“I would never stand in the way of law and order, but I must advise, if others hear of you searching my home without their permission or prior knowledge, you may not be long for the Shield Guard, or any other position within Gray Gate.”

The guard hesitated. He glanced to others by his side and some barely shook their heads. Courage faltered and doubt loomed. The guard stood straighter and eyed the woman with a subdued gaze.

“There is a reward for the capture or death of the fox. If you, or others, manage to trap it, bring it to the market. There will be a handsome reward waiting.”

“A handsome reward? Will there be a strapping young lad holding a sack of gold queen coins?”

A few chuckles filled the half-dozen guards.  

The leader kept his subdued gaze. “Let others know of the reward. Have a pleasant evening.”

“I will. Thank you,” the woman said with a slight bow.

The guards pulled on the chain leashes. The hounds fought for a moment before they fell in line. The group of guards and the dogs turned away and began marching back to the street they came from.

The woman in black watched them go. When the last guard and dog disappeared from view, her small smile faded away and she turned for the front door. She stepped to it while keeping her senses sharp to anyone else who may be watching.

Inside, the fox was behind a wide couch. The rabbit lay on the wood floor as he licked at his wound. The gash throbbed as he tried to clean it. A trembling filled the fox and it looked away with sad eyes.

I…can’t stay like this. The pain is too much. It’s so hard to concentrate.

The low whimper fell from the fox. Muscles rippled underneath fur. Bones grew longer. The fox whimpered again as a surging bliss and pain filled his form. Fur fell away and skin stretched. Paws turned to hands and feet. The fluffy tail sank back into the growing form. Ears shifted from the top and changed into humanoid ears at the sides. The whimpers turned into growls until it was finished.

A young man flopped onto his side, breathing heavy. Weakness filled muscles and he gasped for air with his larger lungs.

The sound of a door closing shut forced him to partially sit up. The skinned rabbit was not far from him and he reached for it. Taking hold, he pulled it closer just as the woman in black appeared by the side of the couch and looked down with interested eyes.

“I knew there was something more to you,” the woman smiled.

The young man weakly tried to get up, but couldn’t muster the strength to do more than simply sit there.

“What’s your name?” the woman asked with interested eyes.

The young man remained silent.

“I’m not a witch that will take your name and curse you, if that’s what you’re afraid of? I’m simply being cordial. Calling you fox will only make is stranger when I learn your real name, so out with it. You’re safe here.”

The young man with black hair and reddish tips along his temples let out an exhausted sigh. He glanced down at his hip, seeing the gash, but it was partially healed and looked a lot less angry.

“Symon,” the young man said with a low tone.

The woman smiled brighter. “Pleased to meet you, Symon. My name is Serafina Black. Welcome to my home.”

Serafina glanced down to the skinned rabbit in Symon’s hand before looking back into his dark, green eyes.

“Let’s get you some clothes and see if we can make a stew from your ill-gotten prize. I’m sure we can discuss a few things over dinner,” the woman in black smiled brightly.

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