Chapter 2: Chapter 2: Rabbit Stew

Serafina moved to a small couch off to the side and grabbed a throw blanket. Symon stood up behind the larger couch, the back of it covering him from the waist down. The woman in black stepped to the couch as she opened the blanket. With a fling of her arms, the blanket spread out from her grip and swirled around Symon’s shoulders, covering most of his body.

“There, that will keep you covered until I find you something proper to wear. I should have some extra clothes in some chests upstairs,” Serafina smiled before she glanced to the skinned rabbit in just poking out from the blanket. “If you hand it over, I can get the soup started. As it’s cooking, I can fetch you some clothes.”

Symon looked down on the rabbit in his hand and then looked back at the woman in black with suspicious eyes.

“I’m not going to steal it, if that is what you’re worried about,” Serafina said with warmth in her eyes.

Symon hesitated.

She did cover for me when the city guards arrived. It would be nice to have a real meal instead of eating it raw. My fox form can handle it, but my stomach in my true form will make me a little sick.

The young man lifted the skinned rabbit and held it out to the strange woman.

Serafina bowed her head a few inches before taking the rabbit from his outstretched hand.

“Join me in the kitchen if you’re so suspicious. I can’t give away all my secrets to my cooking, but you can watch me get the soup ready,” Serafina said before turning and walking toward a rectangular archway.

For a brief moment, Symon weighed his options. She made no attempt to keep him there except her word on cooking the rabbit he stolen. The young man glanced at the door, knowing full well he could make a run for it.

The hesitation remained as he looked around. The main room was big, and comfy. It was filled with several couches, a large, stone fireplace. There were several cushioned seats. Much of the furniture was weathered and worn. There were a few rips in the large couch and stuffing leaking out. The walls were polished, black wood, but in some places, there were cracks. Paintings in gold frames hung on the walls and by the fireplace. There were people of various races painted on each one with a stern and serious expressions. In the corners were pots with different kinds of plants. Some looked overgrown, while others had budding seedlings to plants Symon had never seen before.

The large, main room to the house had a feel Symon couldn’t describe. There were scents of cinnamon and lilacs. There was a hint of mustard seed as well. There were also a few other smells he didn’t recognize, but it all came together into a blend of easy comfort.

If I ran for it, I would just be in my small den with no food. It will be nice to spend a few hours in a comfortable place and eat a hot meal.

“If you’re finished with considering if you should flee or not, you can come in here and keep me company,” the woman said loudly from the other room.

Symon let out a long sigh before walking over to the archway. He stepped into the large side room with cautious eyes. When heat washed over him, he relaxed a little as he took it all in.

The large kitchen was warm. An iron stove stood, a thick pipe leading up and bending to the side as it was attached to the wall. An iron pot was on top of it, steam already rising up from it. Flames glimmered from the edges of the firebox, spilling more warmth into the kitchen.

An island took up the middle of the space. It had many knives, and various cutlery hanging from the iron ring above it. Vine-like plants filled the corners of the kitchen as Serafina snatched a cutting knife from the iron ring. The rabbit lay on its side on a large cutting board. Around it was glass bowls filled with various spices and salts. To the right of the kitchen island was a large, round table with four chairs.

“Have a seat. The water’s boiling and I have to prepare the rabbit. The stew will go a long way and it will warm those bones on a cold evening night,” Serafina said as her knife gleamed before she began cutting chunks of meat from the rabbit carcass.

Symon timidly stepped to the table and pulled out a chair. He made sure he was wrapped up in the blanket as he sat down. The scent of roses from the blanket mingled with the smells of the kitchen and Symon found himself relaxing more with each passing moment.

Serafina glanced up as her hands continued to work with the knife. “It’s not every night I have a celebrity in my home.”

Symon tilted his head forward as darkness covered his eyes. “I’m no celebrity.”

The woman in black shook her head as her hand worked independently from her like it had a skill and mind of its own.

“That’s not what I’ve heard. A dark red fox has been making a mockery of the merchants in Old Town. Stealing from right under their noses and getting away with it.”

Symon shook his head. “Not always. I was nearly caught this evening.”

Serafina let out a small chuckle. “You did get away with it, with a little help. Don’t dwell on what could have gone wrong. Only dwell on your victories. It leads to a happier life.”

“Happy life,” Symon muttered as a shadow caressed his memories.

The woman shrugged and continued slicing off choice cuts from the dead rabbit. “We all have our stories. Some are happier than others. I’m sure you have a story to tell and I’m here to listen, if you need it?”

Symon looked up to the woman with cool eyes. “Why are you being so kind to me?”

Serafina looked down at her work, the choice chunks all cut off and in a pile. She pushed away the skeletal remains of the rabbit and began cutting the chunks into bite-sized pieces.

“There isn’t much here, but enough for both of us tonight, and maybe a little for the morning,” Serafina said as she continued to work. “As for being kind, I’m always kind to those who treat the Mageocrocy, the merchants, and their goons, like the idiots they are. The merchants charge too much in Old Town. Items that cost copper rooks, are being sold for silver knights and gold queens. They’ve made it so that only the well off and wealthy can afford what they sell. It keeps most of the New Town residents out of Old Town because most of us cannot afford what they’re selling.”

Serafina stopped cutting and put the knife down. She picked up one glass bowl after another, pinching or sprinkling spices and herbs onto the meat.

“I will admit,” Serafina began as she continued to sprinkle spices, “you intrigued me. I haven’t seen, nor heard of a true shifter until this very evening. I thought your people were extinct. So do many peoples across Norr.”

A nervous energy bled into Symon’s spine. He touched his fingertips to each other as he looked at the woman cooking their meal.

The woman in black placed the last glass bowl down and picked up the knife. She held it at the ready as she lifted her gaze and stared into Symon’s nervous eyes.

“I know your thoughts. You’re concerned I may poison or kill you, so I can sell your blood to the mages.”

Symon kept his gaze as he looked back into Serafina’s eyes. For years, Symon knew the rumors. Everyone did. How the power of mana had weakened since the terrible cataclysm over seven-hundred years ago. How the mages of Gray Gate figured out another way to keep their ways alive, by the blood, meat, and bones of those blessed with strong mana in their veins. It was never talked about, openly. But it was whispered in every kingdom, city, and town across the continent. Whispered that mana could be harvested and used to create magic, spells, enchanted items, and spellbooks.

Serafina’s blank gaze shifted into a warm gleam, and a smile appeared. She took the knife, turned it on its side, and pressed down with both hands to blend the spices into the chunks of meat.

“There is a code to these things, and I’m not about to break it, especially for a fellow rogue.”

Symon blinked at the woman.

Serafina looked down as she continued to press the spices to the meat. “Rule three of the code, assist another rogue in need.”

“Is there an actual code?” Symon asked with curious eyes.

Serafina smiled as she put the knife down and picked up the cutting board with the seasoned chunks of meat. “There are rules, laws, and codes for everything and everyone. You look like a smart lad, and I won’t insult you for playing coy.”

She moved to the iron stove and the boiling pot of water. She tilted the cutting board and slide the meat into the pot.

“As I said, I’ve seen you and heard the stories,” Serafina said over her shoulder. “Tales of a reddish fox, sneaking through the western and southern gates to Old Town. You are what many speak on in the shadows and taverns across the city.”

She turned around and looked at Symon with knowing, gray eyes. “The only reason you’re still alive is no one has made the connection. Merchants complaining to the city guard is not enough ruffle feathers. If anyone else in the city knew there was a beast shifter in our midst, it wouldn’t be long before any of the other guilds came looking and eventually found you.”

Symon’s eyes narrowed. “I know how to take care of myself.”

Serafina nodded. “I’m sure you do. But, like I said, no one other than me has made the connection yet. If any of the other guild houses discovered you, your body will be sold to the mages for the highest bid.”

The woman’s eyes softened as she continued, “You do not have to fret with me. Rule four of the code, be a true keeper of secrets.”

“There is no honor among thieves,” Symon said plainly.

Serafina gave Symon a wicked smile. “Then you believe the lies and propaganda, but don’t insult my intelligence. You know, as well as I do, there is always honor among true professionals.”

Symon parted his lips to speak, but no words came out. The urge to deny it billowed, but quickly quieted down. Memories of the last year sank into his thoughts, playing out like a scene from a play. How he spent time trying to appeal to people’s better nature and was insulted for it. How desperate times led him to beg. When a stranger spit in his face and kept walking, Symon knew, he wasn’t going to get anything from begging.

“You don’t have to hide your thoughts and your story. I can see it in your eyes, plain as day. You tried to do the good and right thing, and was treated like some mongrel animal in the gutter. We both know, you stole from the butchers because they would never give you anything out of the kindness of their hearts. You’re alone, and feel if you were ever truly were caught, you would embrace death, knowing that would be how your story ends.

“You risked everything for a meal, and that speaks more of your character than anything else would. No pretty words or gold queens to trick or influence others. No, you have a fire to your spirit, just like everyone else who sees beyond the mundane world.”

Symon tried to keep eye contact, but found himself looking to the side. Some of what she said was true, but not all of it.

“Why are you speaking so freely to me? What makes you think I will not take what I can from your home?”

Serafina let out a wicked laugh. Her shoulders bounced as she placed a hand on her stomach. She lifted her chin up and laughed at the ceiling like she knew others were watching from above.

When the laughing fit subsided, she lowered her gaze and smiled at the young man wrapped in a blanket.

“Let’s find you some clothes to wear, shall we?” Serafina smiled and walked across the kitchen and to the main room.

Symon was up and following the odd woman. They walked to a hallway from the main room. Symon looked around the thin corridor. When they reached the stairs, Serafina led the way and the young man followed.

The pair reached the second floor. Many doors lined the walls of the corridor. The walls between them were plain. Symon looked around, seeing that the second floor seemed like it was meant to house many visitors or a large family. It reminded him of inns from his youth, when his family traveled from place to place.

Serafina stepped to a door and took hold of the knob. She opened it and stepped in. Symon followed her in.

The room was a proper bedroom. It had a bed, a window, a closest, a chest, a desk and chair, and a water closet. No paintings hung on the walls. It looked like it hadn’t been used in a very long time.

The woman in black moved to the chest at the end of the bed. She knelt down and ran her hand across the top of the chest, dust billowing into the air.

“I haven’t been in this room for some time. Excuse the dust. I try to clean the rooms when I can,” she said as she undid the latch and opened the chest.

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Symon moved closer and looked over Serafina’s shoulder. Stacks of clothing were within the chest. Shirts and leggings were neatly organized. She took hold of a black shirt and black leggings before standing up, turning and presenting them to Symon.

“These are simple and clean. I’ll have to find you some footwear, after we have some soup, if you don’t mind.”

Symon watched as she placed the shirt and leggings on the bed.

“I’ll give you some privacy, so you can dress. When you’re ready, come down to the kitchen, the soup should be ready by then. I’ll serve you a bowl.”

Symon simply stood as Serafina stepped toward the door. She reached the doorway and put her pale hand on the doorframe. She turned her head slightly and looked down as she spoke.

“I know you will not take from me or my home. I knew it when I first saw you. When you have been around as long as I have, you know who you can trust just by looking at them. That is not to say, you couldn’t, but I know you won’t. Especially with hot soup to enjoy.

“It will be nice to have some company for dinner, so don’t take too long.”

Symon remained silent as Serafina stepped out and closed the door behind her.

The young man turned his attention to the clothes on the bed. Lonely memories pervaded his thoughts. The thought of soup and company warmed his spirit and pushed away the lonely memories.

Soup and company will be a welcomed change.

Symon shrugged off the blanket and picked up the shirt. He began to get dressed as the smells of soup filled the upper floor to the black house.

***

Symon lifted the wood bowl to his lips and tilted it high to drink down every last drop. The incredible taste lingered as he drained every last drop. When he finished, he put the bowl down and put his hand on his stomach.

Serafina sat across from him, her pale cheeks pink and a satisfied heaviness in her eyes.

The pair said little as they attacked their meaty soups. The chunks of rabbit were quickly consumed and the hot broth warmed their bellies. They each had two servings and it was just enough to fill them and have some left over.

Symon drank in the warm kitchen and full feeling. It had been a long time since he felt both of these things. The comfort was intoxicating as he sat back in his chair.

“That was delicious. Thank you, Serafina,” Symon smiled.

Serafina gave a simple nod with faraway eyes. “Times have been tough for many, and it was nice to have healthy rabbit instead of the thin hares that lurk in New Town. The choice cuts and meat are always in Old Town.”

Symon leaned forward, elbows on the table. “Why don’t you simply go into Old Town and buy what you need? You have a home and you don’t look like you’re starving.”

Serafina gave the young man an understanding look. “Everyone has a story, but my story prevents me from accomplishing many things.”

“What’s your story?” Symon asked with interested eyes.

The woman in black waved at him like gnats were in the air before her. “Stories are treasures you share with the right company. Maybe with time, I can tell you more. For now, let’s enjoy this small moment of bliss.”

Symon nodded. “As you will.”

Serafina’s eyes focused as she leaned forward, her elbows on the table. “Tell me, what is next for the rabid fox of Old Town?”

Symon could barely contain his smile.

It must be the hot meal. I feel delirious and warm.

“I suppose I should be on my way. The meal was fantastic and the company great. I only wish there was another way I could repay you?”

Serafina shook her head and stood up. “Sharing your rabbit was payment enough. I’ll give you a waterskin filled with the broth and I’ll wrap up some of the last bits of rabbit. You can bring back the waterskin when you’re finished.”

Symon stood up as the woman in black made her way to a lower cabinet and pulled out a waterskin from it. He glanced at the window, seeing night had fallen across the lands. A tree branch waved to what was most likely a cold breeze. Thoughts swirled back to his den, and the memories of cold nights crept in.

“It’s getting colder out there,” Serafina mentioned as she poured broth into the waterskin. “I have the room, if you wish to rest here for tonight?”

Symon looked down and was silent.

Serafina moved about the kitchen. She placed a few chunks of rabbit meat on a cloth and wrapped it tight. When she was finished, she moved to Symon and gave him the wrap with the waterskin of broth. He took it and bowed to her.

“Symon, when next time you enter Old Town, try the north or eastern gate. They have already set extra city guards to the south and west gates. Change your pattern, or you will be caught, or worse.”

“Thank you. I will consider your advice,” Symon said politely.

The woman nodded before glancing to the window. “It doesn’t take a seer to know this autumn will be a hard one. Summer is nearly ended and there hasn’t been an umbra attack in some time. I fear this summer was the calm before the storm. The autumn fog eats away the glacier, especially from the sea. It won’t be fit for man or beast beyond the walls.”

Horror stories of the monsters breaking from their icy prisons coiled into Symon’s thoughts. Everyone across Norr knew of the Umbra beasts. Twisted monsters from another realm, they appeared during the cataclysm. They came to this realm because of a power mad mage. If it weren’t for the heroic mages of Gray Gate, stopping the invasion and freezing the armies of monsters, there would be no world to protect anymore. The umbras eat and corrupt everything they touch. It is why, Gray Gate, a once poor and simple fishing town became the iconic city it is today.

“Let us pray to the Star Goddess that she keeps us safe,” Symon said in a low tone.

“Are you a believer?” Serafina asked.

“No, but it doesn’t hurt to pray from time to time,” Symon smiled.

The woman in black let out a warm laugh.

“It was a pleasure to share a meal together. Come see me, if you are looking for work. I might be able to help. Be well,” Serafina said with a small bow.

“Be well,” Symon said and made for the large room.

Serafina walked with Symon to the door. By the entrance, a pair of worn boots were waiting for him. Serafina nodded to the boots and Symon smiled. He picked them up and put them on, one at a time. He wiggled his toes within the boots, feeling that they were a perfect fit.

“Thank you,” Symon said as he stepped through the entrance and out onto the porch.

 Once he stepped outside, he gave his host a quick wave and she waved at him. When the door was closed, Symon turned and began walking into the chilly night.

The breeze picked up as the night cast her cloak across this part of Norr. The chill sank into Symon as he walked in the dark, toward the outer wall. New Town was sparsely populated. The streets were cracked and broken. The buildings were clustered together in some parts, while in others, open fields and occasional trees dotted it. New Town was a mixture of buildings and streets blending into nature. It would be beautiful, expect for the trash often left about and the sewage stench that seemed to cling to the land. It wasn’t much, but it was better than living outside the walls, this far north on the coast. All manner of beasts lurked in the primeval forests.

Symon continued to walk, sticking to the shadows. Memories flowed of the Mage Road. It was the busiest road between the southern empire and the north. Towns were much farther down south and Gray Gate was the only place of civilization this far north. It was the last bulwark against the glacier that was a hundred miles north. The mountain ranges to the west created a nearly impenetrable wall, dividing the north and the south. The only effective way to travel south was along the coast, and right in the path of Gray Gate.

The young man’s mind wandered further still, the legends of the great city still bringing a small sense of magic to his being. The mages of Gray Gate are the greatest power to stop the slow invasion of umbra monsters. Their ancestors stopped the mad mage and built this city to guard the empire and teach new mages in the mystical arts. It made them the most powerful kingdom, a step below the emperor.

Symon woke from his thoughts as he looked at the outer wall. He glanced around, seeing that no one was close or watching him. The nights were cold, even during the summer. Most citizens were huddled by their hearths and fires. This was the only time Symon could move freely enough that no one could follow him back to his den.

The young man moved along the wall. It was weathered from centuries of neglect, unlike the inner wall that separates Old Town from New Town. He made his way, looking around to ensure there were no prying eyes. When he reached a large crack, he made one more glance over his shoulder before climbing it.

The partially healed wound on his hip ached, but not enough to slow him down. It was often easier for Symon to come through in his fox form, but tonight was much different than his usual routine. He climbed higher and turned sideways. He climbed through the crack with the waterskin slung over his shoulder and his wrapped meat in his left hand. It didn’t take long to get to the other side. With that, he leapt from the crack and landed on his feet.

The chill bit into him as the wind picked up.

Symon stared out at the dark field and clusters of trees. Beyond them, rocks stabbed up like talons along the dark forests in the distance. It gave the forests an ancient mystique as Symon navigated by starlight.

The chill bit deeper as the young man made his way further out from the outer wall of Gray Gate. When he reached a patch of woods by an immense standing boulder, he glanced around one last time before stepping into the dark woods.

Symon reached the edge of the boulder and made his way to a cluster of bushes. He bent down, the ache in his hip throbbing. He crawled through the bushes until he found the entrance to his den. He pushed aside some brush and crawled in on his hands and knees. The small cave was very low to the ground, and there wasn’t much within. He crawled in the dark until he touched a familiar fabric.

Hands moved in the pitch black, feeling out for a lantern he had stolen when he first arrived in Gray Gate. When he touched it, he searched for the lighting stick. He struck it against the cave wall and a flame flashed to life. The sudden illumination brought relief to Symon as he looked at his meager belongings.

Two tattered blankets laid to one side, serving as his bed. Some clothes were folded next to the blankets. A pair of haggard boots stood next to his few clothes. Symon lifted the glass to the lantern and lit the wick. There wasn’t much oil left in it and he hopped it would last the night. He would have to steal some more tomorrow, if he could.

With the lantern lit, warm light filled the small, simple cave. It was tall enough for Symon to sit, but never stand. He moved to his simple bed and sat on it. His hand touched the blankets and found the book he left there. Relief washed over him as he held it again. It was his prized possession, and all that he had left of his family. He placed the waterskin and wrap down, by the light. He laid down on his dirty blankets as he thought of a better life.

The chill seeped deeper into the small cave. Symon wrapped himself in a blanket as he tried to stay warm. The lantern helped, only because the cave was very small.

Symon laid down, holding his book to his chest. He stared at the lantern as he thought about what Serafina offered.

Work might be good for me. How long can I live in his cave before I end up frozen and forgotten? Better to try and make a life for myself. It’s not like there is anything else out there for me to live for. Everyone I knew is gone.

Symon stared at the dancing flame in the lantern for a time, before he closed his eyes. He gently drifted into fitful dreams, as a sliver of hope glowed in the darkness he called his life.

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