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Fateful Adventures

Chapter 2: Another Day in Goldenleaf

Formatted version (be sure to come back!) https://docs.google.com/document/d/1tgrqdYvGfTjh3OYCQeb_M3blkyUijOXQvaL2kkdbgkI/edit?usp=sharing

After the kerfuffle with the razorback---a fitting name, for sure---Ash’ton hadn’t even remembered how he got home. He remembered eating stew at Mr. Winters house, feeling so tired he couldn’t hold his eyes open, and then… he awoke in his bed in his own room in their house, sun streaming through the little window of the cottage indicating that it was time to start a new day. There was no doubt she'd carried him home all that way, although she must have been very careful not to wake him during the journey if he had no memory of it.

Although he was gaining agency and independence at an alarming rate compared to his would-be peers, his ‘bed’ still resembled somewhat of a crib, much to his chagrin. A remnant from months past after The Fall. He didn't even know why it was such a big deal to him, it was perfectly normal for children his ‘age,’ and yet, he felt indignant all the same.

“It's just for a little while,” his mother had told him whenever he brought it up. “Just until your body catches up.” He believed her, of course, but… that still left him in his current predicament, suspended several feet up that would certainly be painful to fall from if he slipped up even once. So, he did the one thing he realistically could in this scenario.

“Momma!”

And now, all he could do was wait and hope she'd heard. Just when he'd lost all patience and was prepared to escalate further, she poked her head around the corner, with her bright, cheery smile.

“Hello there, sweet pea,” she greeted, and then laughed upon seeing him sitting there in defiance. She must have picked up on his mood, as it wasn't hard; he sat there with his arms crossed, pouting. “Alright, my little love, we'll see about getting you a proper bed in Goldenleaf.”

“Goldenleaf?” He repeated, already forgetting all about his little protest. She made her way into the room and over to his enclosure, rescuing him from his tiny prison and summarily depositing him in yet another, his own little chair in the kitchen.

“I was wondering if you were asleep at the time,” she stated, moving about the kitchen to prepare a meal for him. “I suppose you missed that part of the conversation.” Some more fruit, same as yesterday, some cheese cubes, and a small bowl of oats with a drop of honey, with a small container of milk to go with it. Again he was allowed to eat at his own leisure, which he greatly appreciated. She even had a tiny wooden spoon fit for his little paws to practice with for his oatmeal, though he wasn't the best at it, and still ended up needing to be cleaned, but it was progress.

“We were discussing things after you zoned out, and it seems like the best plan of action is to take the Box to Goldenleaf for a run, and bring back an ox for Mr. Winters. Sound good?” she asked, sitting on the table next to his chair and swiping a few of his cheese cubes. He pouted in mock annoyance, but they both knew each other was playing, and he couldn't help but grin.

“Yes momma,” he replied eagerly, eating the remaining cheese and fruit cubes with gusto. Goldenleaf was a really fun adventure the last time they'd gone, even if he could barely function at the time. But now that he'd grown, and had at least some agency, he couldn't wait to go back and see all the new stuff that he hadn't been able to experience!

“Plus, now that you're older,” she mentioned, almost as if echoing his thoughts (scary how good she was at doing that), “you can meet a bunch of new people and make friends!” Now that she mentioned it, that did sound fun. He hadn't met anyone his age since… well, Goldenleaf! Although, ‘his age’ was a bit of a misnomer, because what was his age, exactly?

“Finish your breakfast, and then we can go. I already finished packing the Box while you were being a big ol sleepyhead,” she teased, giving his hair a ruffle as she hopped off the table. Had he really slept that long? Goodness, he wasn't even sure why. Perhaps the exhaustion of seeing… that. The memories of the razorback in the woods flitted about his vision. He focused on devouring the last of the oatmeal, determined to be ready to go ASAP. He shan't think about that any further.

Helena let out a breath into the air, and the trail of smoke twined itself into the familiar form of a twisting serpent, this time going to fight a strong, loyal knight who stood firm, and the two made battle for as long as the spectral essence of the wisps held.

“I think…” she began, taking another puff of her smokeweed pipe, trailing the haze behind her, “that fate has chosen a particularly kind lot in life for the both of us, don't you agree?” They had been traveling on the Box for a while, now well beyond their property limits. The caravan cart they were riding on was colossal in proportion to a normal cart, almost the size of a rolling building. It had lanterns hanging on the corners with strings of smaller paper lamps ringing the outsides as well as in, a door on each side for easy access, and a ramp on the back for smaller carts to enter.

And who else to pull such a grandiose and gargantuan piece of engineering? Not Il’ishna, for he was a wise and proud beast, and would not burden himself with such labor. No, it was Khora, whose strength matched---nay, easily surpassed---the burden of even a fully loaded Box, pulling it along without any consequence or effort. He was a magnificent creature, as big as Helena was tall, with spines protruding from every available surface on his broad stony shell like some unholy cross between a sea anemone and a tortoise. His legs kicked doubletime as she had encouraged him to hurry, and he seemed keen on pleasing her as the cart rolled on at a quick and steady pace.

Her question was an interesting one. It seemed simple on the surface, a quick agreement would settle it. But then, there was the question of his origins. There was no doubt that this existence was a blessing upon his soul; the odd self consciousness deep inside of him made sure to remind him every time he indulged in life's happy moments, giving off the unsettling and worrisome feeling that he had come from some dark and terrible past. Was it a good life? Yes. Did he deserve it…? He wasn't entirely sure yet.

“I… think so, momma,” he answered honestly as he sat in her lap at the front of the caravan cart known as the Box.

“You think so?” she asked curiously, looking down to meet eyes.

“I dunno…” he scoured his brain for anything he could remember. What was he before The Fall? He had a flash of memory, five pillars and a massive eye.

“She is more attached than she lets on. She is a fox goddess of many secrets…”

“You would do well to learn some respect…”

“The only thing saving you… is her.”

“Ash?” He heard, a voice pulling him back to reality. He held onto the vision as hard as he could, clinging to it like a life raft lest it float away into nothing. This memory perfectly encapsulated why he paid her so much respect despite the mystery surrounding her, or her avoidant answers. But even she had no knowledge of his experience with basically God itself; it was his little secret, a comfort he could return to, the only thing in this world that was truly his own.

“Momma?” He answered back pensively, “Is there a way to… talk… to…” he was already losing his bravery. She was going to figure out his secret simply from asking, he was sure of it. But he'd already put it out now, no going back. “...to the ‘lord’ of ‘creation?’” This was the term she'd used not a day before, her words. He felt himself shrink under her gaze as she turned those piercing blue orbs upon him, and for just a moment, he believed she was looking into his very soul.

“Why do you ask, my love?” she questioned, as the cart rolled on. He had to think of an answer quickly. Why did he want to talk to an entity so unfathomable that it could destroy him and unravel his mind with a mere whim?

“To… give thanks for my gift,” he said honestly. “For allowing me this fate.” She put the end of her pipe in her muzzle and puffed in thought, her nine tails twitching in rhythm. After a few long moments, she exhaled, the smoke this time taking no form, dissipating into a shapeless cloud. Eventually, she spoke.

“The lord of creation… is an enigma. There are those who sought his blessings and came out stronger, and those who have gone mad by simply asking. He created us, the guardians of the realm, to shepherd it from his other creations; man, magic, beast, what have you. In that, we can take solace. We are shielded from his madness, for the most part. Not that he is evil… to be evil is to have an agenda, a purpose. He simply is, far beyond the comprehension of most. He even manages to elude me at times. But to simply speak to him, to thank him… I will teach you one day. But today is not that day.”

It was more of an explanation than he expected, if he was being honest with himself; he'd expected her to avoid it completely. For that, he was grateful. It was progress in understanding what he was. If he could ask the lord of all creation why he was the way he was, maybe it would take pity on him.

“Oki momma,” he agreed. “Thank you.” He already had more questions, but he felt he had used his questions for the day, and any more would either annoy her or wind her more in circles. So, he accepted this for today’s rations.

“You're a good boy,” she answered him, petting him softly between the ears, much to his delight. “I want to teach you all of this and more. It is not desire that limits me… I simply do not wish to overwhelm your mind before it is ready. I will show you the world, my little love. In time.” Ash’ton felt a sense of wonder and excitement for the future, and looked up hopefully. He gave her a hug, and she embraced him in turn.

“I understand.”

“Ash sweetie, we're here.”

He wasn't sure when he'd dozed off, but the sound of her voice roused him, and he started, looking around quickly. It was still midafternoon or thereabouts, the sun still streaming high in the sky, casting its golden rays over the town of Goldenleaf. The last time he'd visited, it had been in the dead of winter, suppressing the natural colors of the land and blanketing everything in a pale ghostly white. Now, in the spring, he could see how the town had got its name.

Luminous leaves that seemed to shine brightly in brilliant golden hues covered the trees and the road as far as the eye could see, accented by the patches of greens and splashes of color as bushes and shrubs and flowering plants defied the unicolor mandate and scrambled to take their place in the sunshine, soaking up every available beam.

Up ahead, the town proper was starting to come into view, its telltale roofs jutting up and fighting for a place on the horizon among the gilded trees. Even from this distance, he could tell something was up, the road wasn't clear and he could see activity buzzing about.

“Oh, it's the festival!” Helena exclaimed cheerfully. Ash’ton looked up at her for clarification. “The festival of creation,” she continued, unspoken in their communication. “Yes, that creation, though I doubt they know him as you and I do. For them, it's both a celebration of life and an homage to the golden trees that give the town its name. But, mostly, it's an excuse to party after a long, hard winter,” she added with a wink.

As they drew closer, it was readily apparent that they weren't going to be able to traverse the street with the Box, it was too choked with people and festivities. Helena steered Khora off to the side, on the outskirts of town, and dismounted with the smaller fox in hand. He liked his independence, but he understood that in a crowded place like this, he could be lost or even trampled quite easily, and was thankful for the ride. She lifted him up to her back and slipped him into the top of her robe, creating a convenient pocket for him to observe from.

In the town, veritable throngs of people choked the main dirt road. Market stalls lined the sides with every food and trinket you could think of; fresh cooked meat, baked bread, small cakes and pastries, cheese, smoked meat and fish, a small selection of honeyed candies, ale as far as the eye could see, and Helena’s favorite, rich golden honeywine to match the town proper. Several stalls sold crowns of both flowers and golden leaves and every combination in between, and Helena paid for two, affixing a crown of soft pink flowers upon Ash’ton’s head, and a golden leaf one for herself.

One of the things he noticed was that out of all of the animal people going about their business and enjoying the festivities, Helena was the one who cut a striking figure among them and attracted a certain level of attention. Not only was she one of the few (if not the only) all-white fur person in a sea of browns and grays and blacks, but her long flowing nine tails fanned out behind her and added an air of mysticism and ethereal wonder wherever she went. People would react with friendliness and excitement. It's Miss Helena! Miss Helena is here! But no matter how many times it happened or seemed to distract from whatever goal she had in mind, she was always so kind and patient about it, an answer back or a wave and a nod. She was probably so used to it by now that it didn't even phase her.

As the wonderfully enticing aroma of roasting meat wafted about, it reminded him of just how hungry he'd gotten---and, apparently, for Helena herself as well, even before Ash’ton could beg for it. She wandered through the sea of merry goers towards the tantalizing smell, only to realize it wasn't ‘a’ smell, but many. Customers weaved in and out of the myriad of stalls, all offering different variations of the same thing; meat. Roasted, grilled, simmered in a sauce, each one had their own supply and their own method of selling it. The one Helena chose to patron was an odd choice he thought, but exactly in line for someone like her.

The tender was a badger-like creature, she had a long white snout with a dark nose that had two stripes starting at the cheeks and tracing up to her circular ears, and she was tall, far taller than anyone around her, making her stick out like a sore thumb. She also seemed to be the only one tending her stall alone, all of the others had family or friends to help run them. She also had fewer patrons than the others, though whether that was from her appearance or another hidden factor remained to be seen, but she kept busy enough, he imagined.

“Hullo madam,” she greeted, working on carving a decent sized hunk of meat from a roast beast as they approached. She put her task on pause to step up to the front of the stall, bowing slightly. “What can I get for you an your little one?”

“Oh, I’ll have whatever you’re serving, thank you,” she replied politely.

“Wild boar I caught just yesterday, ma’am” she informed, expertly dividing portions of it onto a long wooden dowel, with some woven plant fibers to catch any juices. The smell alone was enough to drive Ash’ton crazy, causing his mouth to water in anticipation.

“You caught this yourself?” asked Helena, sampling a bite and handing one of the skewers to Ash’ton, much to his delight. He tore into it eagerly, or as best he could with his tiny little needle teeth. On a normal day, she would have cut them up in small pieces and told him to be careful, but she seemingly trusted him enough or was letting him have his little treat all to himself without badgering---er, ‘micromanaging’ him. The juices were nice and savory, and it had a rich taste he couldn’t quite place. It awakened a primal desire to devour, which he readily indulged.

“Yes ma’am, the woods around the area are very plentiful.” Helena passed the woman some coins, which she graciously accepted, but Ash’ton was hardly paying attention in between bites.

“How long have you lived here?”

“Just a few weeks, ma’am.”

“And you enjoy it?”

“It’s a cozy little town, aye. Not as big as the last one I was in. Takes some getting used to.”

“What town was that?”

“‘Twas Saltport, ma’am.”

“That’s a long way,” Helena remarked as Ash’ton continued to work on his prey.

“‘Twas indeed a long way…” she trailed.

“What brought you out to Goldenleaf?” Helena inquired further. The badger lady then had a troubled look about her, a moment of hesitation, that interested even Ash’ton enough for him to pause.

“Begging your pardon, ma’am…” she began cautiously, “...but it’s not a conversation for polite company.”

“Of course, my apologies,” Helena offered. “What’s your name, if I may?”

“I'm Alum, ma’am.”

“Like the chemical?”

“That’s the one.”

“Hmm…” Helena mused in that tone of thought she oft did.

“Begging your pardon, if I may…”

“Of course.”

“May I also know the name of the one asking?”

“But of course, what kind of person would I be if I didn’t pay it back in kind?”

“The kind that would be cautious around strangers, I reckon…”

“Nonsense,” She offered with a warm smile, “My name is Helena, and this is my son Ash’ton. It’s very nice to meet you.”

“He’s a beautiful one,” Alum complimented, taking another little skewer of meat and offering it to the smaller fox, who was still working on the first one. “Here, let’s swap those out, my treat.” Didn’t have to convince him!

“Don’t give him too much,” Helena said between a chuckle, “he’s still just a kit.”

“Oh, forgive me, ma’am, I didn’t mean no harm in it…”

“No worries. Whatever he doesn’t eat, I’ll make quick work of it, make no mistake. What time do you stop selling?” Helena inquired as Ash’ton dug in with a renewed vigor. Despite the plentiful amount of food, or perhaps because of, he was actually feeling quite full. Mark another one in the ‘Helena was right’ column.

“I sell all the way through the day and into the night, ma’am.”

“Can you pack up in time for a drink at the Golden Goat?” He’d learned that was the name of the inn they’d stayed at last time, the one with the tavern.

“I…” she paused for a moment, a look of intense consideration or thought upon her face, as if weighing all the options at once. “I would be happy to, ma’am.” Helena just smiled right back.

“Please, call me Helena.”

“Yes ma’... Miss Helena.” There was a pause, a small awkward moment where one might end the conversation and walk away, but Alum seized the moment. “If you don’t mind me asking, again… I’ve never seen someone of your kind before, quite so beautiful and so… prominent. From where might you hail yourself?”

“Oh, me? I live on my own plot of land far out of the reaches of town. There’s not many like me, just me and my son, really. I don’t travel often.”

“The last of your kind? That’s quite sad, if I do say so myself.” Helena just smiled warmly, yet again.

“We can talk about that over some drinks.”

True to her word, Ash’ton had gotten quite full and handed his skewer off to his mother, who stuck it in her muzzle and pulled the rest off in one bite. There wasn’t much to hear that wasn’t already drowned out by the crowds on the street, but what did cut above the din was the sound of music floating around, worming its way between the people, playing upon their ears. He turned those ears to and fro to triangulate it, looking around. In the middle of one of the streets was a group of performers, each with a different instrument.

There was a man at the center playing the lute and singing, a rather rough looking wolf in his estimation. In fact, they all seemed to be varying dog breeds; there was a golden retriever lady playing flute, and a tall dark muscular looking one with a tambourine, he couldn’t remember the exact name of the breed, but it had upright triangular ears and looked a bit intimidating. They were playing on a riser of some sort, a quick construction of wood setting them above the rest like a temporary stage. There was a decent crowd gathered around (which was saying something, considering it was all crowd).

“Ah, so they are in town…” she noted to herself, so low it was almost lost in the din of voices.

“Who's in town, momma?” He asked curiously, feeling very full and content after attacking the meat skewer.

“Oh, just some old friends.” They shifted through the sea of bodies and wormed their way slowly to the front, until they were looking at the band from the front row.

“... Come to sing my song tonight and hope you will stay…” the wolf man serenaded the crowd, his voice perfectly melodic as it hung aloft on the air, intertwining with the lute and flute and rhythm of the drum, enchanting all those who would listen. At a certain point, he saw them. The look that crossed his face was pure surprise, and a touch of excitement, yet impressively, he never dropped a single word or note of his song. After several drawn out minutes of performance, periodically making eye contact and returning grin with grin, the song finally ended with much fanfare and applause from the crowd.

“And now, something truly unexpected,” he began, his suave voice flowing like honey between them. “A blessing among men, a legend that walks the land, beauty and talent personified---”That's a new one,” Helena muttered under her breath---weaver of magic, wanderer of the realm of mortals, Miss Helena Aleiea! Even her very name is a melody!” Helena folded her arms, with an air of annoyance about her. The golden retriever woman also did not look too happy about this development, but did her best to keep a straight face.

“Are you quite finished, Jameson?” Helena prodded, although Ash’ton couldn't quite tell if it was playful or not.

“My dear, the party is never finished until you make a performance. Would you be so benevolent as to grace us with your song and dance?”

“I really haven't played in a while…” The crowd had grown quiet as the two held their back and forth. There were some murmurs, some calls of encouragement (just do it! Give us a song!) and they waited for one side or the other to give in first.

“Nonsense! Once you play, you never forget.” Helena eventually relented and alighted upon the stage, to the cheers of the crowd, and to the drop of Ash’ton’s stomach as he clutched around her neck to steady himself.

“I don't bring my instruments with me, you know.” So-called Jameson gladly parted with his instrument, making a show of offering it to her, with a few claps from the audience. She regarded it carefully, placing the strap around her shoulder (making sure not to catch the smaller fox in it) and gave it a few experimental plucks while tuning it, with some encouraging cheers from the audience. “Alright then,” she followed up. “Have you taught them… the Ballad of Rangnir the Orehammer?”

“That one is a bit… uhh…”

“Obscure?”

“I was going to say ‘unknown.’”

“What about The Lonely Tree Blooms Again?”

“Mmm-”

“Honey and Heather?” It was at this point that the golden retriever woman started holding back a giggle, and the large black dog with the tambourine was looking uncomfortable. “Alright, that one is a bit obscure, that's on me. How about… Maypole Merriment?” Jameson’s face lit up.

“Ah! A popular request! Let’s show Helena how we do it, shall we?” The Tamborine started clapping, the flute began its jaunty mythical trilling, and Helena’s fingers started flying.

Round round, ere we go,

Down to the maypole yo-hee-ho!

He had to admit, it was pretty catchy, and he found himself bouncing along as the world stared at them, echoing the same, clapping paws, bouncing feet. He held the privilege of hearing his mother sing to him quite often, but for these people gathered in town, it was a once-in-a-year or more opportunity. And they loved it. She was exceptionally talented, playing the lute in ways he hadn’t even thought possible, and her voice was the sound of angels. At least, Ash’ton thought so. He found himself suddenly frozen in a sea of eyes, all paying attention to one person.

Grab your ribbon, grab your twine,

Sing and dance a merry time!

She twirled as she performed, making him a bit dizzy, but he held on. After a few more lines, something about finding a partner and celebrating the coming of summer, the crowd had been worked up into quite a frenzy, and as she finished, they all cheered triumphantly.

“Absolutely wonderful!” Jameson praised, stepping forward, but before he could take the lute back, she continued.

“Now for a song not many have heard… would you like to hear the tale of a man, from a faraway land, that would drink all that he can?” The crowd, of course, cheered it on and wouldn’t hear otherwise, despite Jameson looking quite sheepish.

“Alright then!” He agreed cheerfully, “we will gladly hear this tale!”

“It’s alright,” she assured them, turning to the other two performers. “Just play along.” They did just that, keeping the beat and adding a background melody as she took over.

‘Twas once a bear, in Holiday Fair,

Whos thirst was deep as the ocean,

And wide as the sea…

Upon a chance, a happenstance,

Wandered into fair tavern bare

Parched as one could be…

Ordered a bout, and with it much doubt,

The locals all gathered into the inn,

A challenge of he…

Now held it aloft, and then it a quaff,

The others followed his lead,

Cocky in their spree…

Much to his delight, all through the night,

Round after round they bought,

To lay low with glee…

But to their surprise, they did not surmise,

The whole bar on the floor,

Soaked in their wee…

He then gave a shout, triumphant throughout,

And then raised his drink and said…

Hey! We’re just getting started!

The last line, subverting the rhyme, did cause a great cheer among the crowd, who hooted and hollered at the bear’s apparent victory. Even Jameson had to clap, pausing only when she handed the lute back to him. The noise and the attention was starting to get overwhelming, and he clung tightly onto her fur, counting the seconds till they were away from that place.

“It’s okay, my little love,” she whispered to him below the roar of the crowd, so only he could hear. “Hang on tight.” He didn’t need a second warning, already having fistfulls of her fur.

“Excellent as always!” Jameson cheered, and the others clapped as well.

“Thank you, thank you,” she answered, giving a polite bow, fanning her tails behind her in a show. “But you should know better than to challenge a wandering spirit… you never know what you’re getting yourself into…” She muttered something beneath her breath, made a hand motion toward the ground, and the world twisted around them, and for just a brief second, he was consumed by a familiar feeling---the sensation of being forcibly sucked into the void and spat out on the other end, the great orange eye gleaming in his vision, almost mocking him.

But just as his brain registered the sensory information, he blinked once and was staring at the stone wall of a building, the sun blocked out by the other wall, threatening to squeeze them between the two. A quiet, dark alley in a place he had no knowledge of. The experience had been bizarre and surreal and jarring, completely knocking him off his senses and bringing about a moment of intense panic. He could already feel the tears building up as he tried to calm himself with his rational mind; there was no way she’d do anything intentionally to harm him. It was over, done with. Whatever had happened has passed. But the primal part of him, the one that betrayed his physical age, would not be soothed quite so easily.

“There there, we’re safe now.” He barely heard.

But as all hope was lost, and a whimper escaped his muzzle, he was eased off of her shoulders after prying the fur from his fingers, and just as easily as he’d lost control, all of his fears were quieted as she whispered her reassurances, instantly averting the disaster that was building. His conscious, elder mind was loathing himself for being so easily swayed by such things, but he really couldn’t fight his instincts. It was pleasant. And why not? Why not just give in? But he mustn’t. He had to keep this sense of self that he knew was there, even if the other part of him didn’t like it.

“Perhaps teleportation magic was a bit much for you… We shan’t do that again quite yet, I think.” Even as she said it, he could feel himself growing angry for a different reason. He didn’t want her to stop with the magic, the magic wasn’t an issue, he loved the magic. How do you explain that there’s something there, beyond the veil, lurking in the void and tormenting you at every step? That there was something at play here he clearly didn’t understand, and she wouldn’t tell him? He could feel the tears of anger now, but he dare not say it. She was his only lifeline, and he loved her dearly, even if he was frustrated. It was the kind of nuance only developed sense of self could comprehend, and he held onto that like a rock.

“It’s okay, my love. We’ll go somewhere nice and quiet, alright?” She promised him, but he didn’t really care where they went, he just needed to calm down, and her soft touch was doing wonders, even if his pride didn’t want to admit it.

To her credit, she did take them to a quiet place, a soft shady spot under a golden tree on a hill, with a perfect view of the setting sun. They sat there for a while in silence, the only sounds were the wind gently flowing through the leaves, the buzz of insects trying to cram in the last of the day into their agenda, and his soft, shallow breaths mixed with her long, deep ones.

He had long since calmed down, but living in the moment was all too tempting. No matter how hard his current psyche tried to rationalize it or just explain it away, there was just something so comforting in these moments that he treasured; all of life’s problems melted away, and nothing was left but the two of them. Eventually though, he knew it was his temperament that had led to this escape, and he had to be the one to break the stalemate between the two. Perhaps she knew. Perhaps she was waiting for him to make this very observation; she knew everything already, all the time. Surely this, too. He sighed deeply.

“I'm okay, momma.”

“My little sweetroll,” she cooed softly, giving him a kiss on the head. “I’ve lived alone for so long I… forget what it’s like to have someone else to think about, sometimes.”

“How long have you lived?” It was innocent enough. A curious question he’d been wondering for a long time.

“Well… besides the fact that it’s rude to ask a woman her age”---she snickered a moment---”I’d say… oh… I’ve lost count after the last five hundred years or so…” Five hundred years?! But no, that was her losing count. It was even more than that! It was far more than his mind, grown or otherwise, could comprehend being alive for. No wonder she lost track of things.

“And were you always alone?” There was a pause, a moment of silence. He wondered if he’d asked the wrong question, finally angered her in some way.

“No…” she said slowly, idly stroking his hair. “I had husbands, in the past…” Ash’ton was no smart whatever-he-was, but he could put two and two together to guess the fact that her husbands were not immortal like she, leading to the natural consequences. So then… if she’d seen husbands come and go, and chose to live a solitary life, why him? Was he also doomed to grow old and die as she watches, or did he inherit her… immortality? He had half a mind to just ask it right there and then.

“Will I-”

“No,” she said, even before he could speak it. It was firm but not negative. “You are my son, with everything that comes with it.” The force she put on the word everything gave him everything he needed to know. He could scarcely believe it… how was he going to deal with being immortal? It was too much to think about at the moment.

“I promised someone a drink at the tavern,” she reminded them as the sun cast its last rays above the treetops, creating an ethereal atmosphere as it burned through the golden leaves of the forest around them. “I think she’d be disappointed if we didn’t show, hmm?”

The Golden Goat was quite packed as one might expect during such a prominent celebration. The now-familiar faces of the band from earlier played a jolly tune for the patrons as they ate and drank their fill, the place was abuzz with merriment and camaraderie. Their target wasn’t hard to miss, sitting at the bar almost taking up two entire spaces, the large woman looked about awkwardly, almost uncomfortably as she waited, drink in hand.

“Oh, Miss Helena!” she exclaimed, a look of relief as the two approached. “I knew you’d come.”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” she replied, pulling up a seat beside the badger lady and sitting Ash’ton in her lap (as was the standard by now). Within a few moments, a familiar face appeared from behind the bar, bright and cheery if a bit rushed.

“Miss Helena!” Said Ella, a slightly aged feline with gray fur and a tail as long and fluffy as her body. The fur pattern had interestingly colored markings all over it, almost like spots, but differently shaped. She slid a glass of what he remembered to be honeywine to Helena, giving a wink as she did so. “On the house. Don’t even think of refusing, ‘twon’t do you any good.”

“Well if you insist…” Helena said in a playful tone, taking a long draught right then and there. “Thank you, Ella. You are too kind as always. Take care of your other patrons first, I insist. However, there is one thing you might do for me…”

“Anything you like.”

“Find us a nice quiet booth in the back, would you?”

“Aye, I’ll keep my eye out.”

“Thanks Ella.” Even as she said it, Ella was on to the next thing, already out of sight. Helena took another sip, turning to Alum. “How are you enjoying your first festival? Doing good business?”

“Yes ma’am, it’s been a… busy experience. Sold out of my stand, packed up early. ‘Twas a baker back in Saltport… mighty different life there. Wish I could bake here, but I hardly have room and board as it ‘tis.”

“You're in luck,” Ella suddenly interjected from behind, asserting herself between the two, “we just had the perfect table open up in the corner in the back of you'd like to make your way there.”

“Oh thank you Ella. On our way.” She palmed the drink and motioned for Alum to follow, which was actually easier than he thought as everyone naturally moved out of her way anyway. The booth in the back was situated just so that it was mostly out of sight for the rest of the bar, but could still be seen from the bar itself, presumably to attract the attention of the staff.

Even as they were sitting down at the booth and making themselves comfortable, the band had stopped playing and Jameson could be heard saying That's enough for tonight, folks. We go to enjoy the merriment of our friends, same as you! Much to the disappointment but also applause of everyone who had been enjoying the ambience. No sooner had they been seated when a familiar face materialized out of the din and presented itself to the table.

“Oh Helena!” Jameson exclaimed as he put both hands on the table, absolutely joyous at such an occasion, or so it seemed. “You hadn't told me you had a child!”

“How long has it been?” Helena asked in reply, a leading question.

“A decade at least! You're quite the illusive woman!”

“So it would seem…” as if on cue, Ella also appeared from the shadows, tray of drinks and refreshments in hand, placing it on the table for them.

“Everything okay over here?” She asked.

“Of course!” Jameson replied, standing upright to make room. “Just saying hello to an old friend.” Helena motioned for Ella to come closer, and from his privileged position in her lap, he could make out a few words as she spoke into the large cat's ear. See that woman… tell her to come over… it's on me… Ella nodded and promptly hurried off. “Everything okay?” He followed up, repeating the same question that had been asked earlier.

“Perfectly fine, Jameson,” Helena stated matter-of-factly. “Jameson, meet Ash’ton, my son. Ash’ton, this is Jameson, an old friend I used to play music with once upon a time.” He certainly gave off a strong… aura. There was some sordid unspoken history between the two, and they were either trying to jab at it behind the scenes, or bury it entirely, he couldn't tell which.

“Oh is that all?

“If there were more, I would have said it.”

“Darling, I'm almost insulted,” he commented, feigning mock injury.

“Jameson Brady, are you hassling women again?” came a new female voice. Older, like Ella. The golden retriever woman now stood behind him, much to his apparent surprise and, Ash’ton could just barely make out, annoyance.

“I would never dream of such a thing, my sweet Narissa,” he answered, turning to face her and embracing her, and they shared a kiss.

“Right, well, this kind woman has invited me to a girls night of drinks, so if you don't mind.”

“Oh come now, I can tag along, you won't even notice me! Hey- ahhhh!” His protest was cut off, as Helena had grabbed his wrist, and despite trying to wretch it away, her grip was an iron vice.

“I believe I asked for a girls night,” Helena reiterated, and apparently put so much pressure on his wrist he sank to one knee. “You can come get Narissa later. If I see you snooping around, there will be far more trouble than a pressure point to the wrist.”

“Okay okay! I get it! Ow!” Helena finally let the poor man free, and he gasped and rubbed his wrist. “I didn't mean anything by it, honest…” It was the first time Ash’ton had seen him without any bluster or over the top performance. He sounded a lot more… real.

“I know,” Helena answered gently, “that's why it was just that and nothing more.”

“I'll be back later, I guess…” Jameson stood up and walked away not all too happy with how things turned out, and he swore he heard him muttering something under his breath. Narissa made a grateful expression as she sat down in the booth next to Helena.

“Ah don’t think too badly of him,” she commented with a weary sigh. “He means well.”

“Begging your pardon…” Alum began, and Narissa held up a paw in dismissal.

“No, I understand. Believe me.”

“So why stay with him?” Helena asked earnestly.

“I’m the best he’s got and he knows it. Keeps him loyal. Even if he does sleep with all the other minstrels…” Helena and Alum exchanged a look. “Doesn’t bother me, though. They’re just whores, that’s on them.” She glanced down, remembering that Ash’ton was indeed present. “Right, sorry,” she added. “Forgot what it’s like to have kids.”

“Oh it’s alright, he doesn’t even know what that means.” Which he was pretty sure was a lie… she knew how intelligent he was.

The next few minutes were… well, not torture, there were far worse things to experience in life. That being said, despite the two sides of him being misaligned at most times, he was pretty firm in his understanding that this was boring. He fidgeted uncomfortably and was rewarded with some idle pets and, since it’d been a while since his last meal, an actual sweetroll, a curious honeyed concoction that was much the same as a normal light and airy bread roll, only a lot sweeter. He decided he liked it and went to work at devouring it, but even that had its limits.

What did catch his eye, though, was the much younger version of Ella walking through a side door, with several children in tow. Of course, as Bella went to talk to her mother, baby in hand, the rest of the children flocked to the most interesting thing in the inn; not the lively patrons drinking ale that they’d seen every day for the past how ever many years, but the mythical nine tailed fox woman and her child, whom they’d met a few months ago.

“Miss Helena!” cried a pair of racoon children, twins from the looks of them.

“Susanna and Elizabeth,” she noted, having already brought out her smokeweed pipe somewhere along the way, giving it a puff.

“Aww, is that little baby Ash? Can we play with him?” They asked, looking up at the pair of foxes with pleading eyes so dangerous and persuasive it should be illegal. Well, if Ash’ton was going to be treated like a child anyway…

“I wanna go play!” Ash’ton exclaimed, reaching for the pair. The last time they were here, he’d rather have died than let them touch him, but that was before, back when he had no idea what was going on and was scared of everything that moved. Now that he’d lived here for a time and had learned how to interact with the world and come out of his shell, he was curious and itching to explore. Plus, these were people who were… well, not completely his peers, he still had an inkling he was further along in development somehow (thanks magic void), but at least closer to his peer than an ageless ancient fox spirit for a mother. He loved his mother, but he also needed friends.

The effect of the attack on two fronts was really something to behold. The normally calm, collected, suave kitsune who knew everything and made sure to show it now appeared troubled, struggling internally to make a decision. Being plied with plenty of honeywine and smokeweed surely did well to spin things in their favor, as well.

“I…” she began, drawing in a breath. She pursed her lips, and for a moment, she actually looked… angry. Which struck him with fear. The last thing he wanted to do was anger his mother, it instilled a panic so deep it was instinctual. But just as he was about to process it, she let out a deep breath, and her gentle smile returned.

“Alright,” she relented, slowly lowering Ash’ton down to the twin raccoons. “But stay in the tavern, where I can see him. And tell Bella where you are and that you’re playing.”

“Yes miss Helena!” They replied excitedly, holding him awkwardly, and he could tell they were a lot less sturdy than she… and they also smelled like old milk. But it was his first taste of freedom.

“Oh let them go and have some fun Helena, you deserve a rest,” he heard Narissa chime in from above. There were the pursed lips again, and a critical look at the twins, but she didn’t go back on her word, at least. For now, it seemed he was in the clear.

“I can walk, you know,” he told the one holding him, who almost dropped him right there on the spot.

“You can talk!”

“Yes, I can talk too!” He replied indignantly, wiggling to get down.

“Okay, okay!” She relented, setting him upon his feet. It was the first time he’d got to walk all day, and he was ready to go, stretching his legs.

“Make sure you hold his hand, he’s still not the best at it sometimes,” he heard his mother’s voice from the distance as two paws enveloped his one on each side, sandwiched between the twins.

“Wanna play knuckles?” One of them asked as he walked as fast as he could, now suddenly thankful for the support as they all but carried him along.

“Uhh, sure.” Did he know how to play ‘knuckles’? …had he even known what ‘knuckles’ was back before The Fall? “How do you play?”

“We’ll show you! … Micah!” the other twin replied, scurrying around moving patrons and between the legs of tavern goers, leading her subject to a spot in the corner that was relatively quiet, but still visible to the one table that mattered. The ‘Micah’ in question seemed to be a brown bear child, naturally larger than the twins, though still quite obviously young enough to still be grouped with them.

“Oh you got him,” Micah commented, sitting cross legged as if already waiting. “Nice.” It was then that Bella swung around to check up on them, pup in hand, most likely sent by a certain someone.

“You kids playin nice now?”

“Yes miss Bella, we’re teaching Ash some knuckles.”

“Alright good,” she answered, already looking preoccupied. “I gotta go tend to something for mother. Respect Miss Helena’s wishes, you hear? We don’t need her bein angry with us.”

“Yes miss Bella, we promise.” As they were left relatively to themselves in the corner of the room, Micah took out a small pouch and started setting out some small grey objects that looked like bones- oh. Knuckle bones.

“Alright, so, we toss to see who goes first,” one of them said---heck, he couldn’t tell the two apart, they both looked the same---as she gathered five of the bones in her palm. She tossed all five up at once, turning her palm down and trying to follow them with the same hand, catching just one on the back. “I got one.” The second twin tossed, and also got one. Micah, having a bigger palm and thus more surface area, managed to catch two, much to the jeering of the others.

“Now you try.” Ash’ton tried gathering the bones in one hand, but with his body still being so small, he could only solidly grip two at a time.

“I can only fit two,” he said, holding it up.

“Well, just do two.”

“That doesn’t seem fair.” The twin just shrugged.

“Use both hands,” suggested Micah.

“But that’s not the rules!” she argued.

“He’s a baby. You really can’t beat a baby?”

“Ugh… fine.” Ash’ton really wanted to argue the fact, but the evidence wasn’t exactly on his side. But he would be the bigger… er… fox, and let it go. He gathered up the five between his two paws, basically cupping them like a bowl and still struggling, and tossed them in the air. The result went about as well as you’d think. Two bounced off of his head, one bounced off one of the raccoons, and two scattered across the floor.

“Ow! You hit me with one!”

“Sorry…” and then, trying to suppress the most smug grin of his life, he added “... I got zero.”

“Yeah no duh,” she replied hastily, “you suck at this.” I’m just a baby, he so desperately wanted to shoot back, but he would not degrade himself to such a level, even for a one-up. After the others had scattered to collect the stray bones that had rolled away, Micah collected them all.

“I got the most on the first throw,” he said. “I go first.” He tossed four on the ground and kept one in his paw. “Pick one up each.” He tossed up a bone with his right paw, and while it was in the air, snatched one of the bones, and caught it again, all with the same paw. He repeated the motion with all four quite easily, one at a time.

“He’s older,” one of the twins said. “It’s not fair.”

“You think everything isn’t fair.” Micah retorted as he laid out all four again.

“Because it’s not!” Whether or not Micah had a reply to this, he simply ignored her.

“Now the two’s.” He tossed up the bone and collected two each, although this one was more difficult. “Now three…” On this toss, he got to two bones before the third bounced off the back of his hand. “Darn.”

“My turn!” twin one said, snatching up the lot of them. She did the ones easily, but messed up on the second twos. “I can do it!”

“Nuh uh, it’s me now,” said the other raccoon, grabbing them before the other could retry, much to her annoyance. Unfortunately for her, in her haste, the threw the bone too high, and it bounced too far away for her to catch it in time on the first bone. “That didn’t count!” She declared, repeating the throw and succeeding.

“It counts.” said Micah, and she just stuck her tongue out at him. This was the most juvenile thing he’d been exposed to so far, and that was saying something considering his upbringing. But he was enjoying himself, finally being able to play on his own with friends. The other raccoon girl went through her ones, but also seemed to mess up on the twos, giving a huff of annoyance.

“Let’s see him do it.” Ash’ton took one of the bones in his hand, studying it. It was a weird shape, even a bit morbid, he thought. It was like two elongated bowls stuck together, and felt pretty large in his hand; he could only hold two at once if he tried, after all. He felt the pressure of the other kids waiting in anticipation as he tossed one up, grabbed a bone with his paw, and tried to catch it back, but the knuckle bounced off of the other one, pinching his finger and making him drop the other on the ground.

“Ow!” he exclaimed, and although the pain was only a temporary sting, he felt a surge of extreme emotion he could only describe as distress; his first base instinct was to look for the one person that could make it better. But for the first time in his short little life, she wasn’t paying attention. She was having a drink and laughing with the other women she’d invited to the tavern, not paying him any mind. There was a part of him that wanted to cry out and get her attention, how dare she not know what was going on! But for once, his rational mind was able to calm himself down, telling himself that it’s alright, she has her own things to focus on, her own life, he could do this on his own.

“Shhhhh,” raccoon one hushed, “you’re going to get us in trouble!”

“No… look,” said Micah, pointing to the very thing he had just analyzed. The other two followed his gaze, and looked at each other with an expression he could only describe as ‘mischief incarnate.’

“Think we can give 'em the slip?”

“Wait a bit. Let’s make sure.” Ash’ton did not like where this was going, not one bit.

“What are we doing?” He asked.

“Shhh. You’ll see.” More bad decisions, he could only guess.

“My turn,” Micah said, but kept his eyes on the group of adults, until it was time for the toss, of course. He too failed on the twos, but Ash’ton could tell he was only going through the motions, he wasn’t trying.

“Me now!” Raccoon one took the bones and actually managed to make it to the threes (but failing) when Micah pointed to the adults again.

“They haven’t looked for like, ten minutes.”

“Let’s go!” the other raccoon exclaimed, shoving all the bones in the pouch.

“Wait… we can’t use the side door, Miss Bella is in there somewhere. Look. We can go out with them.” He pointed to a large group of drunkardly dogs (there were a lot of dogs in this country, it seemed) moving toward the exit, holding each other up and roaring way too loudly with laughter and talking.

“I really don’t think we should…” Ash’ton warned. “We’re going to get in big trouble.”

“We get in trouble all the time,” one of the twins said. “You get used to it.”

“I don’t want to get used to it!”

“Go.” Was all Micah had to say.

“Then tell your mom it was our fault!” the other twin added as they took his paws in theirs same as before and hurried him along. They were very, VERY lucky that he had control of himself at that moment, because he was sure that if he was not as well-lived as he was in this body, he would be screaming and hollering, he wanted to oh so badly.

“Mmmmm,” he whined, trying to keep himself quiet.

“Shh! Hurry!” In just a few seconds, they had scampered out with the drunken party and found themselves on the open street, a large dirt road still teeming with people in the now-nighttime air as the sun had set, casting a chilly wind over him that made him shiver.

“Where are we going?” he pleaded as they rushed him along, dodging people and carts and the occasional horse.

“To our hideout. Super secret base. You’ll see.” They rushed him in between buildings with his tiny little legs more so scraping the ground than actually running, until they happened upon the wooden doors to a cellar, quickly prying it open. They descended into the darkness, an absolutely terrifying prospect for the little kit, who was more and more regretting this decision to ‘play’ with these kids.

“I, do not like this,” he declared as he was dragged around the dark underbelly, bumping into things in the low light.

“Don't be such a baby.” Ash’ton glared daggers at the girl and had half a mind to whap her upside the head---if he had a free paw. It was their excuse in the first place! It was all he could do to keep from screaming in frustration, making annoyed squeaks that even he couldn't stop.

“Uhh… Liz… you'd better stop making him mad. He's gonna throw a tantrum and get us all busted.” It was Micah, precious Micah as the voice of reason.

“We're almost there,” one of them remarked (he still wasn't sure which one was ‘Liz’) as they all pushed a large shelf to the side, revealing a hole into even darker blackness.

“No,” he said, “absolutely not.”

“It's just on the other side. William is there with a light.”

“Get the light first,” Micah instructed. Once again, bless this bear.

“I wanna hold Micah’s hand,” he demanded.

“Really?” said twin one, as the other scurried into the black.

“Oh, alright,” Micah said, taking Ash’ton’s tiny paw in his large, comforting one. “See, you just have to be gentle.”

“I am gentle!”

“You're also loud.” Ash’ton couldn't help but let out a giggle, much to Micah’s amusement.

“Am not!” she hissed.

“Shhh. Look.” Whatever Liz or Susan or whoever had run off to do had accomplished something, as a circular opening across a short tunnel started to come into view… and with it, a large, orange iris in a void of black. Ash’ton immediately shrieked in fear and held onto the large bear, trying to hide his face in the plush brown fur.

“What's wrong with him now?” He heard one of them say. “I thought you said to get the light!”

“He's scared of the dark,” said Micah, actually taking the time to lift Ashton up and carry him. “This might have been a mistake.”

“Just go!” Ash’ton felt himself carried into the dank tunnel and shortly after, into a much nicer, dimly lit basement. After allowing himself to steal a glance, it seemed to be a storage cellar, with shelves and odds and ends and random equipment.

Ash’ton realized with much chagrin that the ‘iris’ that had traumatized him so thoroughly not a moment before was actually just a lantern held aloft, taking on the curvature of the tunnel entrance to give it the appearance of an eye. Just a trick of the light… Ash’ton tried to calm himself. There is no great orange iris trying to haunt me…

“Oh, what's… who is that?” He heard, and as Micah set him down to be on his own again, he saw a face he actually recognized in the low light of the basement. It was an older boy, terrier type breed, with the prominent type mustache.

“William…” he recalled from his first time in Goldenleaf. The one Helena had saved.

“You know my name?”

“Yes. I was… there,” Ash’ton replied, and William understood exactly what he meant, with a look.

“And you can talk.” Ironically, he simply nodded instead of replying. “So it was your…”

“Momma,” he said meekly, wishing all the world that he were still in that tavern in her lap, listening to the woman gossip. Funny enough, he would probably relate to them more than the twins.

“How did she do it?”

“I don't know…” he answered honestly.

“Father won't tell me much. Just that an ‘angel’ came in the hour of our need and saved my life. What exactly happened?” Ash’ton described the events leading up to the fateful event, going into as much detail as he remembered.

“Then she wrote some runes on you and cast some magic… and absorbed it herself… it really hurt, I think. And then you were better.”

“She did that for me?” Ash’ton nodded. He kept the rest to himself, the cart, the pain, the comforting. It was their special bond, for them only.

“I guess I should give her my thanks while she's in town…” he said with an air of reverence. “I owe her my life.”

“So how can you talk? I'm a bit out of the loop,” asked Micah as one of the twins set out the bones on the dusty floor again and started practicing. “Caeric is the same age as you and all he does is cry and lay around.”

“I'm not… sure,” he answered as the bear child sat cross legged.

“He's probably magic, like his mother,” William remarked.

“Magic,” repeated Micah. “Is that what you are?”

“I think so, at least momma says.”

“He doesn't know anything,” the other twin said.

“I know a lot,” he defended.

“Like what?” That was a good question. How do you quantify being older? How do you rationalize- oh right. Big words.

“How exactly would you rationalize and quantify knowledge? What are the subtle nuances of age? How does it affect the perception of the individual, when expectations don't hold up to scrutiny?” He hadn't had to think that hard in a while, and it was actually fun trying to wrack his brain for sophisticated sounding words to throw around.

“Whaaa?” the twin asked like a startled deer, and Micah nodded like it were perfectly normal.

“Yep, he's magic.”

“Doesn't prove anything.”

“So like… what's up with your mother?” Micah continued.

“What do you mean?”

“The others said she's like magic or something?”

“Oh, yeah, she uses magic. She's a mystical fox spirit, I think.”

“That's pretty cool. Are you?”

“I uh… maybe?”

“Where is she right now?” Asked William casually. “I wanna say hi.”

“She's at the tavern,” Ash’ton said cheekily, knowing full well the others didn't want to get caught.

“Not right now!” said one of the raccoons. “We gotta wait.”

“We kinda… snuck out,” remarked Micah.

“You took the child of a magical fox spirit without asking? Are you crazy?”

“Hey, I didn't know she was magic at the time,” remarked Micah honestly.

“She has the nice magic though," one of the twins reasoned.

“That's not how that works, Suz. Magic can be anything. She'll probably turn you into a frog or something.”

“I don't wanna be a frog!” apparently-Susanna shrieked, sounding like she actually was going to cry.

“I don't wanna be a frog either!” not-Susanna echoed.

“No one's going to be a frog,” William said, raising his voice. “We'll just have to explain it and hope she understands.”

“Easy for you to say!”

“I'll tell her,” Micah offered. “Being a frog can't be that bad.”

“Oh for the love of…” but he wouldn't finish that thought as the sounds of loud banging rang from somewhere above, rattling the troupe of kids.

“Liz! Susan! Micah! You better be in there!” Micah slowly turned to look at the twins, who had a look of pure terror upon their faces, hugging each other.

“Ribbit.”

The twins whimpered as the door banged open, and a young feline snow leopard barged in with a look of deep apprehension and worry.

“Oh thank the creator, there you are. Begging your pardon little Ash’ton, but I think you need to come with me.” Ash’ton knew they'd been had, and there was nothing to do but surrender. He held his arms up, and she scooped him up hastily. She gave such a dirty look to the others that he actually felt pity for them, he could practically feel the disappointment radiating off of Bella as she scowled at them. “I'll be dealing with you later.” They marched up the stairs into a nice looking house, in the middle of a party with a group of people, most notably, Mr. Peterson, father of William.

“Is that…”

“Being taken care of,” Bella cut off abruptly, marching through without paying them heed, out the front door and into the street.

“Your mother…” Bella started to say as they made their way down the road, although curiously, slowing down just a little; “I'm thoroughly convinced she's going to burn down the entire town if you aren't returned immediately. I quite enjoy our little town, I'd like it to remain unburned.” It could have been interpreted as a threat or insult, but she sounded genuine. “But if you don't mind me asking… is it true you can already speak beyond your years and walk on your own?” He nodded, steeling himself for this conversation a second time in a row.

“I can.”

“Well, as someone tending to children, one of which is your age and… normal, if’n you know what I mean, how is it you came to learn so quickly?”

“I… don't know,” he again answered honestly. “I… woke up like this, I think.”

“Woke up? Not born?”

“I don't remember. I just remember suddenly existing, and then I was here.”

“How very strange. Can't be taught then, I suppose.” He didn't feel like telling her about The Fall, or the void, or the glaring eye. Those were personal. “Oh and one more thing…” she added as the tavern came into view. “If you find it in your heart, can you tell your mother that this was all a misunderstanding? I'm afraid she actually would burn the town… we're just simple folk, we don't mean anything by it. Kids will be kids.”

“I'll try…” his mouth suddenly felt like it were full of sand. Frogs and burning the town down? Was that what people thought of her? Of them? No wonder Helena kept to herself. “Bella?”

“Yes little Ash?”

“It was my fault. I told them I wanted to explore. They did it for me.” Her expression softened, and she actually smiled.

“You're a good boy, little Ash.”

As they crossed the threshold, he saw her a moment before she saw them. She was staring into space, lost in thought, as the other two women waited around her with tense expressions. Narissa was the first to notice them entering, and shot them a look that could only be described as good luck. Helena’s jaw was set in stone, a face that could only radiate wrath at the moment. Your mother would burn down the entire town… In that moment, Ash’ton felt fear, not just existential fear like the void or the dark, but the fear of angering someone you love to the point of no return. He was stricken to the point of hot tears, even as Helena turned to watch them cross into the room, face melting and flooding with relief.

“There you are,” she said tiredly, reaching out to take him. Bella, of course, readily handed him over.

“He was just playing with the others,” she tried to smooth over, “happy as can be.” If it hadn't been for the wetness in his eyes, or the fact that he was spiraling into despair, he might have caught the absolutely dirty look Helena had given, but alas, it was lost to time.

“See, it all worked out Miss Helena,” Alum offered timidly. “Just like we said.”

“They're just kids,” Narissa offered, “it's what they do.”

“It w-was m-my fault,” Ash’ton tried to repeat what he'd told Bella.

“Right,” Helena shot curtly, “I'll be in my room. I think I've had enough excitement for today.”

Poor little Ash’ton had finally lost control. Holding on for so long, fighting his emotions the entire time, coming back to find her like that and acting so callously had broken him. He sobbed into her robes as they sat on the bed, his only source of security and comfort was now possibly furious with him, tying up the whole affair into a conflicting storm of uncertainty and fear.

She repeated the same comforting motions as she had before, stroking along his ears and down his back, trailing along his tail, until his sobs faded into sniffles, and the only sound left in the room was their breathing in sync. This time, it was her that should make the first move, he thought bitterly. He didn't choose to be whisked away by the kids. It wasn't his fault. He hadn't overreacted and blown up, she had. Poor little Ash, he thought. Despite Helena’s loving touch and soothing pets, there still remained an air of unresolved grievances that he couldn't get over.

“Ash…” she whispered tenderly, brushing his ears and breaking the tension. He purposely didn't answer. “Please…”

“Mmm,” he grunted, face still pressed against her.

“I know you're upset… please, tell me what's wrong.” Did she not know? He thought with just a touch of sarcasm. She knew everything.

“I don't want you to be mad.” He mumbled into her chest. It was naive. It was unfeasible. It was immature. But that was how he felt. He also didn't say at me. He didn't want her to be mad at the others.

“I'm not mad, I promise.”

“You're not going to burn down the town?” Again, it was silly. Of course she wouldn't. But he wanted her to know that he knew. But she actually laughed at this, shaking him as her chest heaved lightly.

“Now who told you that?” she asked amusingly, but he was still pretty glum. He also didn't want to sell anyone out.

“Something I heard…”

“Oh, Ash. You are certainly my son, that's for sure.” He himself wasn't sure exactly what that meant, but it helped as she seemed to be in a better mood. “I wasn't mad… I may have overreacted a bit, but what you saw back there was… fear, not anger.”

“But you’re not afraid of anything,” he said. “You killed that… thing… in the woods without even flinching.”

“That was a physical manifestation. It was nothing.” He didn't think razor claws and a den of death was ‘nothing,’ but he digressed. She let the statement hang for a moment before continuing. “Do you remember our conversation from earlier? About how long I've lived?”

“Uh huh.”

“When you live as long as I do… ageless… it becomes harder, the longer you carry on, to form bonds and relate to others. Why emotionally invest in people if they’re going to die eventually, anyway? I still do, because it’s important for the realm. And for my health. But if I were to be truthful… I was in a bad state. Decades of nothing, hiding in the woods. Wondering if life was even worth living anymore. But then, you came along. You were different. You changed centuries of expectations and stagnation, in a single moment. I felt as though my eyes had finally been opened. I had a purpose again, a direction in an endless ocean of life frozen in time. I could hardly believe it… I still can’t. In a way, you saved me. But…” she paused, trailing doubt. “When something as groundbreaking as this happens, when you upset the natural order of things, those in power notice. The balance has shifted. There are people who-...” she stopped herself.

“People who what?” He asked with bated breath. He could already imagine, but he wanted to hear her say it. Confirm it.

“They feel threatened. And they want the order restored, or they want the power---you---for themselves.”

“How would they do that…?” his voice was barely a whisper.

“Through any means necessary.” The finality hung in the air. Any means necessary. “That… is why I was scared. My entire world was gone in a moment, a million million possibilities playing out in my mind. This was a misunderstanding, I know that now. But, if there was a town, an entire town, that tried to take you away or worse…” A pause. He glanced up. She had a malicious, almost spiteful expression, jaw set, blue eyes burning in intensity. Her voice dripped in malice. “...I would burn them all to save you.”

Ash’ton awoke the next day, not having remembered falling asleep. Mother was sleeping beside him, her arm lazily draped over his midsection as he stared at the ceiling. He instantly recalled the day before; the festival, the tavern, the great escape, the… conversation. He had always thought her to be perfect, benevolent, kind. And she was. But now… he saw that she also had her flaws, deep down, as they all did.

She could be vindictive. Even overbearing at times. A touch of narcissism---although, when you’ve lived ten times as long as any person could ever hope to live, you learn a thing or two most people can’t fathom---but also… she was intensely protective. He wondered what he did to deserve such an honor. Why him? What did ‘creation’ see in him enough to place him under the care of the one person who could love the most, defend with impunity, and last eternal? He knew he would not, could not, ever be fully deserving of her love.

And yet, he would try anyway. Because it was she who deserved a purpose in life. She said it herself. She'd been depressed, without direction. Now she had a direction, and it was him. He had to be more careful. What if he did mess up, and get himself captured, or worse? He didn't care about himself… which was a weird thing to say. She had said it herself, he had upset the natural order, he clearly didn't belong here. But her? She was the natural order. If he could help rectify his mistake, help justify his existence by helping her, well… that was the most he could hope for in life.

“Mother…” he tried out softly, whispering it. He’d been calling her mother this whole time, naturally, both out loud and to himself, but now was the first time he was seriously considering it and its impact. He wiggled his paws in his face. It was his body, he was in control, these were his hands. But it still felt… odd. They weren’t his hands… if that made sense. His body was his mother’s, he had no doubt about that. But was his soul? Was that the disruption of the natural order? “Mother…”

He decided, that he no longer cared. Or was that the body talking and not his sound mind? Would he lose himself if he let go? Should he hang onto the last shred of his… whatever was in there? He was tired of constantly second guessing himself and feeling out of place. There may be doubt in his mind still, but after this trip to Goldenleaf, one thing was certain; they were bonded, for better or worse, and their fates were intertwined. He would accept his position as her son.

“Mmm, mornin Ash,” she mumbled, pulling him in for a cuddle. He would accept this dreadful fate as well. Such was the life. He sighed contentedly and nuzzled into her.

“Hello momma.”

Sitting at the bar in the early morning of the tavern, Ash’ton picked at his apples and cheese. It was a decent enough breakfast, and he was grateful for it. Mother of course had some sort of smoked meat dish with bread, and offered him bites which he gladly accepted. If Ella had felt any ill will after last night, she wasn’t showing it, cheerful as always. It wasn’t too busy, only a few people milling about, and she cleaned some glasses for later.

“Would you like to go play with your friends while I find an ox for Mr. Winters?” Helena offered. Ash’ton looked up in surprise, almost shock. Was she… offering to leave him alone? After last night? Was this… trust? He felt warm and fuzzy. Part of the appeal of last night was getting away, but now that she was offering it, it wasn’t as urgent; plus, those kids were crazy. Well, mostly just the twins. Micah was cool. He liked Micah. But, some friends would do him some good, he reasoned.

“Yes please,” he replied, shoving a cheese cube into his maw.

“Alright then,” she said, chuckling and giving him a pat. “I’ll let Bella know.” No sooner had she offered this than a commotion happened at the door, drawing both of their attention. Two large, imposing figures barged in, their appearance sending waves of dread through him so strong he immediately turned and clutched his mother in fear. It seemed she shared his concern, clutching him tightly in return.

They were wolf men, one dark gray and one white, clad in brilliantly shiny silvered armor, with gold accents and trim to the point it started to stray into the realm of gaudy. On their gleaming chests was emblazoned in red the symbol of a wolf, regal and intimidating. Their helmets were also wolf-like in their appearance, the rim around the forehead pointed like fangs, and two triangular pieces that stood out on the top like ears. They bore halberds with black triangular banners, the red wolf logo adorning that as well.

“Helena Aleiea,” one barked, as they stopped short in front of the pair. The other patrons were also frozen in fear, Elena cowering in the back of the bar.

“And so you have my attention. Speak quickly, you’re terrorizing these poor people.”

“The citizens of this land have nothing to fear if they’re following the law,” he replied almost mockingly, in a voice that attested to the fact that he enjoyed this power.

“What is it you want.” It wasn’t a question so much as a demand.

“Don’t be so hasty. You’re a lucky woman. The King himself has requested your presence. And, to bring your child.” The knot in his stomach only tightened as waves of ice flowed through his body. Why him? How did this ‘king’ know of him so quickly? Were they in trouble? He had too many questions and not the courage to even make a single peep.

“What for?” she snapped back.

“We do not ask questions. We do as the King commands.”

“Ah yes, his loyal little lapdogs.” This made the one speaking thrust forward as if about to strike, and Ash’ton flinched, but the other pushed his arm in front before he could, holding him back. They shared a knowing look.

“See for yourself,” he remarked, producing an official looking piece of paper. Helena snatched it and glanced at it, reading it over. It had a bunch of flowery cursive script he couldn’t read, and at the bottom was a large red wax seal with a wolf logo emblazoned on it.

“Do you know how far Ele’therin is from here?” she stated, looking up at the two after scanning the document.

“He said you would say that. He said to give you this if you tried that excuse.” They handed her another scroll. This one was in the funny rune language and seemed to swim on the page. She narrowed her eyes and looked up.

“So he has…”

“One more thing. He sends his gift to you, as a gesture of good will.” He pulled out a sack the size of a small fist, and tossed it on the bar. It clinked loudly.

“I don’t need his money.”

“Then give it away for all we care. Our job is to uphold the King’s will, and the King’s will has been done. You would do well to do the same. Good day.”

“Can I… get you anything?” Ella tried to offer, and they paused, shooting her a look.

“I wouldn’t drink this slop if I were marooned on a deserted island.” Without waiting for a reply, they turned and walked out as quickly as they’d come. After a long, awkward pause, Ella continued scrubbing glasses, practically on autopilot as Ash’ton could see tears falling down her face.

“Ella, you know what I’m going to tell you.” Ella nodded. Helena continued anyway. “The King’s Guard are some of the worst people in the realm. Pay them no mind. I’d be far more concerned if they accepted your offer. You provide for an entire town, and we’re grateful for it.” She nodded again, but didn’t appear to be able to speak just yet. Suddenly, Ash’ton wasn’t quite feeling like playing with the other kids, and Helena held onto him that much tighter.

“Let’s go, Ash. Let’s get Mr. Winters an ox, and we’ll prepare for…” she glanced over the proclamation again. “This.”