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Fateful Adventures

Chapter 1: Old Man Winters

(subject to change if I think of something better; contenders include Trouble in the Forest or just Ash’ton)

As always, there is no formatting here. Read the original (but don't forget to come back!): https://docs.google.com/document/d/1dVhXQnEohLgfBnBvnjFUR0P-ObI1ljw9m902Q8AJuzg/edit?usp=sharing )

“Momma, tell me about my past again,” Ash’ton inquired, the small ashy gray fox kit poking at his morning fruit more than actually eating it. The spring sun had just begun streaming through the window of their cottage kitchen, bathing the room and everything within in a halo of warm, golden light.

“Now why would you want to hear about a silly thing like that?” his mother asked as she nursed a mug of tea from her seat at the table, its heat casting lazy wisps of steam that swirled and twined through the air. She was a kitsune of nine tails, white as the freshest of fallen snow, all which twitched and flowed behind her as if a mind of their own.

“Cuz I was a different person once! I think…”

“You think? Or you know?” Ash’ton aggressively stabbed the pink flesh of the melon with a fork gripped in his fist as mother watched with a bemused expression. She was always like this!

“I know so!” he countered. This just elicited a chuckle from the elder fox, her many tails shifting at the sound.

“Mind your manners, sweetie,” she reminded him, savoring another sip of tea. Manners weren’t important right now! …but he had always been a good kit for mother. Even beyond the fact that she was his mother, and you always listen to your mother, he’d always felt a profound sense of gratitude in her presence, an idea rooted in the core of his being that he wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for her. And not because that's where babies came from! It was different than that, like he owed his very existence to her. But he didn’t know how he knew… and that was the problem. He gently pierced the next piece of fruit and placed it in his muzzle, gnawing on it.

“How do you know, that you know?”

“I dunno!”

“Then do you know?” Ash’ton let out an exasperated little whine, flattening his ears. His mother gave another soft giggle, a wonderfully heavenly sound that on any other day would fill him with joy and dispel any doubts and hard feelings.

“Alright,” she relented with an affectionate smile. “Finish your breakfast, and then I’ll tell you.” Finally! He was getting somewhere! He abandoned the fork altogether and grabbed the fruit with his tiny paws, shoving it in his muzzle

“Easy there,” she cautioned with another chuckle and another sip of tea. He slowed to a reasonable pace.

“Yes mama.”

This was a typical morning for the pair of vulpines, as they had settled into a quiet life together, for the most part. It was pleasant, if a bit solitary; about what you could expect living in a lone cabin deep in the woods with nothing but birdsong and animals for miles around. Their nearest neighbor was old man Winters, whom he'd heard about, but never met.

After The Fall, the past few months had been quite productive, but also shrouded in mystery. He called it The Fall as that's all he could remember, from the earliest point in his existence. Eternal blackness, an endless fall… and then… piercing, deathly cold. Snow. Mother, coming to the rescue. Happiness. The cabin. The trip to Goldenleaf. The entity in the darkness… he shuddered at that thought. But, through all of those memories, there had been something there, something he couldn't comprehend that was now lost. It was between the memories, it had been a driving force in his decision-making, but now it was just gone. This is what he ultimately wanted to find out.

After Goldenleaf and his visit to the dark lands, mama said that they could now live happily ever after. She was so nice and treated him with so much love. Over the past few months, she had helped him put his thoughts to words, and taught him how to talk. She helped him walk. He still wasn't the best at it, but he could get around on his own now, which he used to the fullest when he could. At least now wasn't entirely helpless like he'd been after The Fall.

When she did things, she would explain them to him so he could pick up on what was happening. He had been learning a lot! He was especially fond of magic, but magic ‘is a very tricky subject, and very dangerous if used incorrectly,’ she would caution. ‘But you use it for chores!’ he would say. ‘Yes, and fire provides heat, light, and cooks your food. And yet, if you use it carelessly, it can burn down your house, kill you, and burn the forest down with it,’ she would tell him in turn. It didn't discourage him, it actually made him excited for the opportunity to learn it when he was old enough.

Which was another oddity about his life. What was his age? He was wise far beyond what his body should be, he knew that; even the fact that he could comprehend it was proof of it. His inability to walk and talk after The Fall was merely physical, and not mental, he'd learned. He had to adjust and grow this body to match his mind. So… why? That's the question that kept him up some nights.

“Alright, come here, little one,” his mother encouraged after cleaning up from breakfast and freeing Ash’ton from his high chair (because it was still the most convenient seat for him until he was older, she'd say). Bleh! He could totally sit in a normal chair! But that internal argument would have to wait. Her warm, inviting lap was right there for the taking, and he gladly accepted, pulled up into her embrace as she leaned back in her favorite cozy armchair in the living room near the fireplace.

“Mama, where did I come from?” he asked, even before he was fully settled in, snuggling into her arms.

“You were a gift to the world,” she told him, running her fingers through his hair, “from the lord of all creation.”

“What do you mean a gift?” he questioned further, expecting some profound or prophetic answer.

“The world is blessed to have you in it~” she simply answered, giving a kiss to the top of his head.

“Mamaaa,” he whined, his ears flattening in playful annoyance. She was always like this…

“What? It's true!”

“You know what I mean…” he fidgeted and looked up at her earnestly. “How did I get here?”

“I told you before, my little love. I was preparing to go to town, and you fell through a portal, right into the snow in front of my house. You were a gift from creation itself. A precious little kit of my own to love and care for.”

“And before that?”

“Do you remember anything before that?”

“No…”

“Well there you go,” she stated matter of factly.

“But I feel like something else is there,” he implored.

“Well, unless you can remember,” she told him, “then it's hard to say, really. Who knows how the creator works or where he found you or why he sent you to us?”

“And you don't know anything about it?” and even as asked, he saw it. That one tiny moment of hesitation told him everything he needed to know. She did know something, and was keeping it from him. But why? For what reason? Was she protecting him? Was it… bad? These thoughts were all racing through his head as her paws brushed through his fur.

“Nothing more than you already know~” she simply retorted. He could have pressed the issue. He could have fussed, challenged her, thrown a tantrum even. But her gentle touch, reassuring tone… even though he knew what she was doing, he still couldn't resist. She was being avoidant and dodging his questions, but she'd also saved his life. If she thought it wasn't important… who was he to argue? She was mother. She knew best. And he loved his mother, though it was hard to understand her motives.

“Ash,” she stated with a little more seriousness, gently taking his chin in her paw. He looked up and met her eyes, those deep piercing blue sapphires that seemed to gaze into his very soul and lock him in place, unable to look away. “Ash’ton da Maevali Aleiea.” He gulped. His full name. “You are my kit, my child, my own flesh and blood. Remember that. I love you more than you will ever know. What may have happened before does not matter. Okay?” He was taken aback by the weight of the moment. She'd never been so blunt or forceful before. It was startling, and stopped his thoughts in their tracks. She let the moment hang, an eternity spanning a few precious seconds. He understood the gravity of the statement.

“Yes mama,” he agreed. He felt conflicted. He believed her, and with such force and conviction, there was no doubt he was her son. But yet, in the same breath, she’d taken an axe and cut off all hope of finding out what the deal was with his short and confusing past. He may never fully know.

“Good,” she said, sealing the decision with a kiss on his forehead. “Now let’s get your morning brushing out of the way, and then we can start our day.”

“Yes mama…”

The cool spring air blew ripples through Ash’ton’s fur, sending funny little tingles all along his body as he dug his paws into the cold earth. The worst of the frost had passed, and the trees and the bushes and the flowers were all budding, eager to be the first to soak up the fresh new year’s sunshine and nutrients. Insects thrummed, birds sang, animals shook off the long sleep of winter and scrambled to feast on anything they could find. The wilds around Helena’s cabin were absolutely teeming with life, something that wrinkle in the back of his mind told him to savor, as he’d never experienced the wilds of life as they existed here. Of course I haven’t, he told himself, I’m a new person! But the self correction felt strange… like it wasn't totally correct. He shrugged and brushed it off. Mother said it wasn’t important, and he trusted her.

On the agenda today was working outside, it seemed. Ash’ton found that he really loved being outdoors, playing and working with his paws. ‘Mama’s little helper,’ mother called him as he followed her around like a loyal puppy, practically on her heels the entire time. Not that she minded, of course. She never minded. She seemed to take joy in it, always delighted at his presence. Savor this, too, because you never had it, the voice reminded him. I have mama, he argued with himself, nearly grabbing her robe right there to prove his point.

They had started in the barn, visiting all the animals that mother kept safe and sound from predators and happily fed, all for each other’s benefit. The cow lowed as they entered, and the goats scrambled to see who was intruding on their abode. Once they deemed it was not a threat, they jutted about to and fro, not a worry on their mind. The chickens pecked around and then suddenly scattered as he started chasing them---something about a genetic disposition between foxes and hens. but then he had managed to catch one, beaming up at Helena as it accepted its fate.

“Good job!” she laughed as her charmed equipment started cleaning the stalls, “now let the poor thing alone and give them some feed, okay?” Ash’ton opened the sack of dried feed they’d brought from storage, and the chickens, once fleeing for their very lives at his advances, now gathered around and swarmed him, threatening to knock him over. “Go on, throw it out,” she instructed as she moved on to her next task, “they’ll find it eventually either way!” Ash’ton grasped the bottom of the sack and swung his arm around as best he could; it was a bit heavy for his tiny frame and most spilled in a pile at his feet, but enough had flown around the ground of the barn that most of the chickens scattered. Just in time to see her move on to another strange beast. A tall, magnificent creature that looked something like a horse but more stocky, with curled horns like a ram, and striped in black and white like a zebra, but not quite either three.

“Il’ishna,” she had informed Ash’ton, brushing his flank and mane herself rather than allowing any enchanted tools to do the work. The large equine creature relaxed its ears and nuzzled her upon hearing its name. “A courser. Bred for speed and strength and stamina, the best of all three. Intelligent beyond most animals. Only nobility can raise and afford such beasts… I won this one in a card game…” she hooted proudly, lifting Ash’ton up onto his back, much to his delight and wonder---Il’ishna was as solid as a rock, yet velvety and soft. “From your uncle!”

Uncle…? He ran through his mind, gazing up at her quizzically. In all his time here, he’d built up this image of her as an only child, without parents, a sole enigma that just existed in this world with no beginning or end. After all, Khora had been alive for over two hundred years, and she had supposedly raised him from an egg.

“A pompous man to be sure,” she continued, most likely picking up on his confusion. “Honeyed words that draw you in and promise to give you everything in the world, only to snap like a trap and trick you.” She gave Il’ishna another brush. “And, a touch crazy,” she added, almost as an afterthought. Ash’ton imagined him as some sort of swamp witch, drawing in children and eating them up when they strayed too close. He gripped the beast’s mane to steady himself.

“Where is he now?” Ash’ton questioned, and she set aside the brush and stroked her chin in thought.

“Not quite sure,” she said. “Haven’t seen him in… at least thirty years or so. That’s when I won this guy.” She patted Il’ishna. “He was quite upset. Might not have left on the best of terms…” but whether it was a good thing or otherwise was left in question as a grin creased her muzzle, and he couldn’t help but let out a laugh. She always had a knack for things going exactly as she wanted, it shouldn’t be a surprise that this had as well.

After the excitement of the barn, the next destination had been the greenhouse. Crops and greenery were tended as always, only this time, the magical green grow lamps were slowly powered down, one by one until only one remained, and the inactive devices were tucked away into a cabinet. They were critical in winter, providing heat and light and, most likely, magical nourishment to the crops protected within the glass walls, encouraging them to grow even in the harshest of conditions. Now that it was spring, the earth and sun could provide most of the energy they needed, she explained.

Which led them to this moment, paws in the earth, wiggling to feel the earthy texture. The greenhouse was critical in winter, but in spring and summer, it was constraining. More crops could be grown with more room to breathe in the land around her cabin, and that’s what today’s task was. The turtle creature named Khora had been roused once more, a giant spined beast that looked like a cross between a sea anemone and a tortoise, standing as high as Helena was tall, a living boulder. His colossal, near-endless strength dragged a wide plow through rows and rows of earth, upending them into long, tilled furrows. The plowing of the field was a one person job---or at least, a job for the adults---so he’d confiscated a small patch of his own to dig as he saw fit. And dig he did, turning rows of dirt to match hers, although a far cry from a professional farming job. He knew the whole thing was silly; something deep down told him this was all just child's play. But he didn’t care. It was fun, and he was having the time of his life. It was better than… than a… there it is again, he felt, wrinkling his brain. The meaning was there, he knew what he wanted to convey. But it was like it didn’t exist. Well, it probably wasn't important. He shrugged and dug his paws back in the earth.

As he was making little dirt mounds in the earth more than actually planting the seeds, he looked up to notice mother, mid row, walking back toward the cabin looking distracted. Despite her worries, she gave a warm smile as she observed what he was doing.

“I see you’re building your own kingdom,” she noted, brushing her paws off on her robe. In the distance, Khora had been freed from his yoke, and was lumbering back to his resting spot, a depression in the earth next to the warehouse.

“I’m makin’ a grand garden!” He told her matter of factly, straightening up a crumbling castle. And then something on her person caught his attention; a small glass bead on a necklace beneath her robe, glowing in a soft pale light.

“It's beautiful!” she radiated, “but you can finish your garden later, my little love.” He looked up questioningly as she continued. “Seems we have to pay old man Winters a visit.” The neighbor? The one he’d heard about and never met? He was suddenly a lot less disappointed in having to give up his construction project and a lot more excited to meet someone new, finally. It had been months of solitude since their last outing to Goldenleaf, and he was eager to see new things!

“Kay mama!” He agreed, jumping up and scurrying over, ready to go in an instant. Helena’s eyes softened and she smiled.

“Excited to see new people?” She asked, ruffling his hair, which gave him the happy fuzzies.

“Uh huh.”

“Well then, let’s get you cleaned up and ready to go, shall we?” she suggested, reaching down and taking his paws, wiping the dirt off with the hem of her robe.

The first stop was the workshop. Helena quickly scrawled out some runes on a piece of parchment, imbued them with magic, and rolled it up, tucking it away under her robe. If it had a purpose, she did not feel inclined to explain, as she often did. With that out of the way, it was on to the house where a few more supplies were gathered. A satchel for lunch if needed (some smoked meats, some cheese and two small round rolls of bread), her pipe and smokeweed, and little else. However, one thing did strike him as odd; a small thin sword akin to a rapier under her robes, and a bow larger than he was slung across her back, with a quiver of arrows to match. Protection, he surmised.

“Why are we going to see old man Winters?” Ash’ton questioned as he followed closely behind her on their way to the barn afterward. She pulled out her necklace, the same one as before, still harboring the glowing bead.

“Old man Winters has a signal he can send,” she explained as they walked. “If the bead is glowing, he requires my assistance. Knowing old man Winters, he never uses the signal unless it's important. He likes his solitude, and he knows I do as well.”

“Why do you like the solitude?” Ash’ton asked in turn, prodding much like a child questioning every little thing they hear. Yet… it wasn’t a childlike question, this time. He was genuinely curious. Why was she alone?

“Mmm…” she began, musing to herself before picking her answer. “I suppose… it’s an old person thing,” she chuckled. “Once you get to a certain age, you just want to get away from all of everyone else’s problems and live your own little life. Not that I don’t like people… you know I love people. It’s in my very creation. But the peace is equally valuable. And it’s far easier to find people to help when you live alone, then find moments of peace when you’re surrounded by people.” It was a revealing answer, one he could respect.

“Yah huh,” he answered, simply nodding along.

At the barn, it was finally time to call upon Il’ishna. He was given a sweet fruit as an offering, which he readily accepted. In one fluid motion, Helena scooped up Ash’ton by his waist and then swung herself up onto the mighty beast, settling in on his back; Ash’ton was secured in front, between her and Il’ishna’s neck, nestled against her for support.

“The nobles use saddles and bridles to bend them to their will and control them. But these creatures are intelligent, and feeling. They will respect you if you respect them. And, they respond to guidance well.” Even without overtly telling Il’ishna what to do, he already understood the assignment, and ambled out into the open, shaking his head and adjusting to the early spring light. “Be swift, Il’ishna,” she encouraged as she pre-emptively put one arm around Ash’ton’s waist to steady him in her grip.

Il’ishna’s muscles coiled up, and before Ash’ton could realize what was happening and hang on, his hooves dug deep in the dirt as he launched forward as if he’d just been shot out of a cannon, flattening Ash’ton against his mother, threatening to throw him off if it hadn’t been for her strong grip keeping him in place. Ash’ton clung to the creature’s mane reflexively, tugging at it unintentionally as Il’ishna easily cleared a low fence in a single hop without even trying. He didn’t ‘gallop’ so much as skip off of the surface of the land, barely making contact and yet flying forward faster with each thrust. A river presented itself---he didn’t even know they had a river!---and before he could hide his face and brace for the icy rushing water, they were in the air, soaring over it in a single bound. He had no idea animals could even fly this swiftly… as always, the mysteries of this new world were a wonder to behold.

But new… to what? He felt a part of himself prod. This is all he’d ever known, for his whole life. This was his world. THE world. Why was his default thought process calling it a ‘new’ world? What was the old world? He scrunched his nose in thought. More questions he needed answers to… as he gripped the hair of Il’ishna tighter, trying not to fly off.

After miles and miles of forest with no discernable trail, Il’ishna’s endless bound slowed to a gallop, before steadying to a slight gait as the trees made way to a clearing. Ahead of them on the other side, there was a low wall made of stone, and beyond that, a cozy looking cabin with a trail of smoke from the chimney. It was a lot simpler than Helena’s, rustic, but well lived in, it seemed. And yet, no activity in sight, at least that he could perceive.

“He knows to expect us,” Helena stated, and Il’ishna trotted forward, simply clearing the wall like it were a random stick to be walked over. Across the wall, a field lay plowed much like her own, but already much ahead of her schedule, though now strangely void of activity. “Charles!” Helena called, hopping down from Il’ishna as they neared the cabin proper. She rapped on the door and waited for a moment, turning her ears to and fro as her tails twitched intently.

“We shall check the back,” she simply replied after hearing no answer, pulling Ash’ton from his spot on the courser and placing him on her hip. She let him have as much independence as he needed at home, but he still wasn’t the greatest at walking; something with the proportion and balance of his body, yada yada, it was faster this way in a hurry. He didn’t mind. It reminded him of his first time encountering Helena, how scared and alone he had been, and how tender she had treated him. He leaned in and rested his head on her. As they rounded the corner of the cabin, and a barn much like Helena’s entered their view, the sound of crunching wood reached their ears and a man could be seen pulling at the remains of a door, which looked absolutely smashed and shattered, utterly decimated.

“Charles!” Helena called to him as they approached, and he straightened up, giving a grunt and rising. As he turned to them, Ash’ton gave a little start; the man had an elongated pink nose, almost no eyes to speak of, with fur that was once black (as far as he could tell), but now it was mostly silvered, with a long, long bushy mustache of whiskers on both sides. His hands were absolutely massive, with long yellowed claws on each one. He looked more of a monster than a man, and Ash’ton gripped his mother’s robe anxiously.

“Took you long enough,” he said bluntly, putting his hands on his back and straightening up. He could hear the bones creak and crack, causing him to wince.

“Ah, Mr. Winters, ever the charmer,” she offered back.

“Why you talkin’ like that?” he grunted, frowning. Or at least, what Ash’ton assumed was a frown. “Someone with you?” This was interesting information; so she had been talking differently with him around. Not that it was any grand revelation… anyone probably would have upon having a child. But it was interesting to learn second hand.

“Sharp as always,” Helena noted, holding Ash’ton toward him so he could get a better look. “Charles, this is my son, Ash’ton. Say hello, Ash’ton.”

“H-hullo,” he said timidly, giving a shy wave, but clinging to her robe for dear life. Sure, he'd wanted to meet new people, especially his neighbors… but now that he was here, this man seemed… monstrous, a real a-hole (he knew he shouldn't be saying that, those were bad words, but this warranted it).

“Oh! You finally found a man, have you?” he replied crassly, leaning in to study the small kit. He smelled… about as terrible as he looked. Yellowed teeth that weren't all there. Stale breath. Old smell. It was almost unbearable. Helena took it in stride and let out a hearty chuckle.

“Oh no, nothing like that.” This raised a look of suspicion… or perhaps accusation.

“Is that right,” he commented, moving away much to Ash’ton’s relief. “So he just spawned in then, that it? Right out of thin air?”

“Something like that,” she replied, giving Ash’ton some soft scritches as if to apologize for the intrusion upon his nose and personal space.

“You kitsunes confuse me,” he stated, turning back towards his ruined barn door. “Maybe you can figure out what happened to my livestock.”

“What's the situation?”

“See for yourself,” he offered, motioning to the building. As they moved closer, he could see it was absolutely shredded by what appeared to be sharp implements. The gashes were deep and crude, like claws. Surely not… but then he thought back to Khora. If those could exist, why not other monsters?

“Hmmm…” she thought to herself. With the main entrance a pile of shredded timber, she simply walked over it on her way into the barn, with the old guy following, albeit with more difficulty due to his age. The inside was… quite the sight. He hid his eyes in her robe and attempted to quell the fear he could feel coming as he glimpsed a horrific scene. Blood and fur everywhere. Even some entails and bits of bone. Animals cowering in the deepest darkest corners.

“They took ol Bessie,” he commented as he caught up. “Plus a couple a’ goats. Nothin’ else… yet. ‘S what I'm afraid of. Plus now I can't plow nothin’ without my good plowin’ ox.”

“Any idea what it could be?”

“That's what yer for.” He demanded, hands on hips.

“Right…” she commented, and if she were offended, she showed no signs. She doubled back for a moment towards the entrance and set him on his feet, much to his dismay. He might be learning his independence, but this was not the time for it, he felt. He was unsettled and worried and scared. He had to suppress a whimper as he was put down, and she gave his ears a quick caress. “Just for a moment,” she assured him. “Mama needs to work.” This helped soothe him at least temporarily, and he observed while trying to calm himself.

“So how old is he?” the old man asked as she bent down to observe a particularly distressing patch of former animal.

“About three months,” she answered, whispering some sort of spell or chantment after the fact.

“And speaking already?”

“Mmhmm.”

“Well I'll be. Damn kitsunes, always full of surprises. So what you got?”

“Well…” she began, raising back up, “it's animal in origin.”

“I coulda told you that.”

“Yeah?” she retorted, hands on hips. “What else does it say?”

“I dunno, I'm just stating the obvious here.”

“If you must know,” she continued, showing for the first time that he could ever remember just the faintest hint of annoyance in her tone, “I can track the signs they've left behind and hopefully find the source. If it pleases you, of course.”

“You know what pleases me,” he commented with a gruff snort.

“Right…” she answered with a smirk. “So do you want me to find this attacker or not?”

“Well if you don't mind!”

“Alright Ash, let's go,” she encouraged, and he gladly followed behind, practically tripping over the wooden debris to get out of there as they walked toward their mount. As before, he was hefted onto Il’ishna with her saddled up behind, nice and snug.

“Where we goin?”

“To find the source of the problem,” she stated. “I can track it down to its lair or otherwise if it has one. It's a crude beast from my initial scrying, attacking for food and not malice. Relocate if we can, if not… nature is a cycle.” Nature is a cycle. Such a simple term for a system as savage as predator and prey. But, if it was threatening their existence… some things had to be done, he agreed.

“I'll be back,” Helena informed old man Winters.

“I'm not goin anywhere,” he meandered, shuffling back over to pick at the ruined wood some more. “Take your time.”

Another nudge. Another lurch. Il’ishna flew like the wind, guided seemingly by instinct with a clear intent. He knew it was probably her guiding him, as expertly as she did with all things.

“He’s a bit crass,” Helena commented as they picked their way through trees, nearly missing a fallen log. “But he means well. He’s lived there most of his life, he and his wife. Well, until she passed a few years ago… I don’t think he’s been the same since.” She let the statement hang in the air, giving it time to breathe as the rhythmic clop if Il’ishna’s hooves on dirt broke up the silence. He had no idea what they were looking for or where they were going, but she was on the trail, it seemed. Across a creek, through a thicket, and they finally slowed down behind a small copse of trees after traveling a good distance.

“We’re getting near,” she commented as she dismounted, lifting him off of the colossal being and this time electing to sling him across her back, after repositioning her quiver and drawing her bow so he actually had room. “Il’ishna can fend for himself if trouble comes, but you stay with me. I couldn’t bear to see you come to harm.” Not like he had a choice technically. It instilled upon him a sense of danger, but also excitement. What would they find, hiding in the forest? “This requires a touch of subtlety…” she noted, and started whispering in the strange language.

“When can I learn the strange language mama?” He had asked once when tending the garden, watching her whisper to the trees and charge the lanterns.

“It’s complicated…” she had told him as she’d collected the fruit. “The language is not one you can simply utter… it’s an expression of meaning itself. I will teach you eventually, my love. Once you learn and grow more in this world…”

Whatever meaning she had derived from the utterances of her words were not his to know, but he saw the effects immediately as they both shimmered and their physical forms were completely removed from all visible light. He gripped her robe tight to make sure it was still there, nuzzled into her neck to reassure himself that they hadn’t entirely blinked out of reality.

“Shhh…” she said softly, nuzzling him in return, though he couldn’t see it. “Just a bit of trickery of the light.” After a moment of silence, he heard her chuckle. “It’s a fun trick. When you start learning magic, I can show you.” If only she could see the look of absolute wonder and excitement on his face as she started to stride forward toward the rocky outcropping. He nuzzled her again to express his agreement, while still being quiet as she instructed.

As they closed in on a rocky outcropping on a slope in the forest, he smelled it before he saw it. A vile, putrid scent, rot and gore. It made him hide his nose in her robe, escaping into her fragrance to shield himself from the onslaught of his faculties---subtle notes of herbs with traces of smoke, and something else, something a simple nose wouldn't be able to detect, but was all too familiar and reassuring to his senses. It was the oddest sensation, he could feel his face pressed into the soft fabric, almost suffocating as he tried to avoid the miasma, yet he could see everything, the light fully entering his eyes, almost too brightly without the eyelids to shield them.

Rounding the odd stone formation, it was immediately clear what was causing the offensive odors. Blood and guts and shards of bone littered the area under a canopy that formed a natural cave, the remains of many a hapless wildlife being eviscerated and devoured. Among the remains were a distinct pair of horns, and a…

“Look away…” she warned him with all the weight and gravity that confirmed exactly what he saw. Scattered among the debris, was a hand. A person's hand. He couldn’t tell what species or type or whatever, he felt numb. He’d never seen death before… even his other self, the one with more experience. He felt tears welling up as he squeezed his eyes shut, yet he still saw it all. He felt physically ill, praying to whatever gods of this realm existed that he wouldn’t lose his stomach while trying to hold on. He had to be good for her… he had to hold it in.

After the initial shock, he was able to calm himself just enough to see what was going on. It all looked like rocks to him. Whatever it was, appeared not to be home at the moment. And yet, she proceeded, cloaked in her spectral spell. And then… the rocks moved. They shifted and turned, and something in his mind screamed armadillo as a razor set of spikes protruded from the back and the head of something that was now uncurling into view. A menacing row of teeth showed itself, and an eye that stared into the distance, exactly where the two foxes should be, full of hatred and malice. It took a step, sniffing around the air, growling and snarling loudly. The whole thing had to be at least the size of an elephant, dwarfing the pair entirely.

What came next, he wouldn't have believed if he hadn't been front and center to witness it. The razor rock creature jerked and flinched and snarled some more, snapping its jaws and lashing out… but the sound of Helena’s voice could be heard chanting and speaking in that oldest and primal of a language, stern and forceful but not chastising. As she did, the invisibility spell (for lack of a better term) started to fade, slowly revealing Helena, starting from the paw that was resting on the beast’s forehead, almost as if to calm it.

She and it… it was as if they were communicating. She would propose a statement in the odd language, it would snarl back. It almost seemed like she were making progress, too. All the way until it lashed out, almost snapping Helena’s arm in half with its rows of razer sharp teeth. Luckily, she either had really good reflexes or has seen it coming as she leapt back at the last second, narrowly avoiding amputation.

“This… will be difficult,” she warned as she drew an arrow and nocked it, all in the same motion. The head of the arrow wasn't steel or stone as he'd expected, but rather a light purple translucent crystal that seemed to sparkle in the sunlight. She loosed it as quick as she’d drawn it, and it appeared to shatter uselessly against the rocky exterior. But as first the crystal and then the shaft exploded into a shower of shards, it resonated and sent shockwaves through the armored beast, temporarily stunning it. Ash’ton was still processing what he had just seen when a second arrow sank itself into the eye of the creature, sending it reeling. A third was loaded and nocked, but before it could be loosed, Helena had to jump back yet again as a large set of razor claws came so close to their faces that he could feel the vortex rushing by.

Another arrow loosed. This one didn't meet its mark, sinking into the armor plate and extruding at an odd angle. After a few more unsuccessful arrows into the hide, it was starting to look like a pincushion, but it remained unbothered. At some point, Helena grew impatient. She drew another crystal arrow and lined up a shot, stunning it again as it reeled in shock. This time, Helena took matters into her own hands. Rather than an arrow, she drew the rapier from beneath her robes and closed the distance, sinking it into the other exposed eye.

But it still didn't stop, not yet. With both eyes now rendered non functional, it lashed out in a blind rage, flailing its claws at anything in range. How Helena could tell anything it was doing was beyond him, but as she danced with the creature, narrowly avoiding its lethal blows, she found her opening and thrust the blade up through its chin. It shook and jerked violently, before finally, blessedly, coming to its end, seizing up and falling before her, nearly crushing her in the process. An eerie silence fell over the land with the beast's death. It did little to quell the smell that had now returned.

“It had hate in its heart,” she stated after what seemed like an eternity of silence, with nothing but the soft breeze blowing patterns through their fur to break up the stasis. Was she rationalizing it to him? Or was she trying to convince herself? “I communed with its mind…” she continued, turning away from the sight. She gave a sharp, distinctive whistle, and within a few seconds, hoofbeats could be heard. Il’ishna appeared from the thicket trotting up to meet them, and she set Ash’ton upon the beast for safekeeping.

“It was enraged from being pushed out of its territory. It had already tasted the flesh of civilized people… there was no going back.” Ash’ton could see that there were tears forming in her eyes, and he couldn’t deny the possibility of the same for himself. Sitting there on the tall hoofed creature, he at the height of her head now (as it was so tall), she pressed her face into his soft fur, and he felt the dampness of her cheeks, the intensity of emotion in her breath. He hugged onto her as best he could to both convey comfort to her as well as quell his own shaking body.

“I’m sorry…” she breathed softly into him as she held him close. “I didn't know…” it was a general statement, but it conveyed everything she was trying to say. The armadillo monster, the gore, the b… body parts… he almost hurled just thinking about it. He composed himself and took a deep breath, steadying himself in her embrace.

Though his conscious mind had awoken not long ago according to his memory, his soul was older, he was sure of it. He was mature enough in mind to handle this, he told himself, even if his physical self still held fast to its childish whims. It was a tug of war, and he was at least going to win this battle.

“It's okay momma,” he assured her, squeezing her in a hug. “I'm okay.” A smile slowly crept onto her face, and she gave his midsection a nuzzle.

“You take after me so well,” his mother praised, giving him a kiss that made him giggle. “Stay here while I finish up, okay?” He nodded his confirmation and she ruffled his hair.

Whatever it was she was doing---he dare not look at that horrid sight again---it involved more chanting in the magic language, followed by the rhythmic sound of a knife at work and the shifting of earth. After an amount of time just slightly longer than the temptation of his curiosity, he turned to see what she was doing. The cave with the unholy sight of death was now freshly covered in a mound of earth, with beautiful white flowers covering every area. The body of the creature was gone, presumably buried under the mound, but not before she had harvested the foot-long razor sharp claws which were now tied in a bundle on her waist. As she closed the distance, apparently satisfied with her work, she had a deep look of contemplation upon her face. After mounting Il’ishna once more, she turned to view her work one last time.

“I had not wished to have this conversation so early in your development…” she began, slowly picking through her words like a choice piece of fruit at a market as Il’ishna slowly began making his way into the forest. “But as a fledgling guardian---as my son…” she at first offered but then corrected, “it is prudent to your education. To understand. Our purpose is to tend the realm. The scope of that is as broad as your mind can comprehend. But, for this moment, the tormented spirits of its victims cried out for release. I helped guide them to the afterlife. The way and the technique is not important right now, so long as you understand the duty.” A future guardian… the weight of such an expectation was not lost on him. Was he truly ready for such a burden? Was this the price of being the son of one of the most powerful spirits ever to walk the realm? A hand caressed his hair, and he felt another kiss planted on top of his head before he could spiral further into his thoughts.

“But that's for another time,” she reassured him. “Do not so readily fall to despair, my love. All things will be made clear. I promise.”

“At least stay for supper, it's the least I can do,” Mr. Winters gruffly demanded, hobbling his way inside as if the answer ‘no’ was simply not an option.

“Well Ash’ton, what do you say?” she asked, looking down at him for input with her signature smile playing across her face.

“Uhm… thank you?” he tried, as that's what grown-ups usually asked for when asking What do we say? Thank you. But apparently this elicited a giggle from the large woman.

“Yes, very good Ash’ton. Let’s go get some supper.” He had to admit, he had been getting quite hungry, enough to start causing a fuss if not addressed soon. They’d brought food of course, but she either hadn’t had an opportunity or hadn’t seen fit to feed themselves until now. He didn’t know if he could wait until home. On the other hand, Mr. Winters was grumpy and rude and he wasn't sure about subjecting himself to a meal in his house. But, nature had a way of getting what it wanted as his hunger won this particular battle.

“Okay momma.”

The two foxes, mother and son, were led into the humble cabin in the woods, which looked much like their house back home but with a little less… grace. Everything was a bit more rough around the edges; shelves were haphazard, floors were dusty, not much was out of place that didn't need to be. Lost his wife… Ash’ton couldn't help but remember as they were led a short way into a central living quarters. It was kind of sad. But even as he contemplated this, his nose twitched at the pleasant aromas of a home cooked meal, and his melancholy was instantly forgotten.

“Had this boilin’ while you were away,” he remarked, shuffling over to the fireplace after fetching a stack of bowls from a nearby shelf. He paused for a moment and looked back. “Does the little one eat food yet?”

“Yes Charles, he can feed himself,” Helena answered casually, sinking into a chair and offering a paw to her smaller fox. Ash’ton grabbed onto it and was lifted into her lap, grateful for the refuge in this strange place.

“He can't be but… three months you say?”

“Yes that's right.”

“An’ he's walkin’ and talkin’ and eatin’ all on his own.”

“Kitsune magic,” Helena offered. Mr. Winters waved his giant mole-like hand dismissively.

“Bah. Probably just smart as the dickens, just like you. Too smart fer yer own good. I know yer far older than I am… and I don't have long in this world as it is. Bout time you got your own little one…” As they had their little back and forth, Mr. Winters had been ladling the contents of the pot into three wooden bowls, one noticeably less than the others, and passed them around. Helena handed the smaller bowl to Ash’ton with care, ensuring he had a firm grasp before releasing it fully. With it came an equally wooden spoon, comically large in his tiny paws. However, she let him feed himself, much to his delight.

Ash’ton took the spoon and held it in his fist, attempting to scoop the homogenous brown goop with the floating chunks, but it was a bit too awkward for his small stature. He knew he should at least attempt to be dignified, as his soul was old, after all; but screw it, the primal part of him, the real part was feeling impatient, so he gave into it and let go of the spoon, electing to pick out the chunks of meat and vegetables with his little claws, scarfing them down one by one and contributing to quite the mess.

It was… an interesting blend, for sure. Not too seasoned, kind of bland, to be honest, which was fine for his soft palette. There were some greens and some herbs, just enough to add a hint of flavor, but not overpower it. Cut up potatoes and tubers, and something green, with floating chunks of meat that he would never be able to guess the origin of. Despite it being not quite what he was used to (mother could cook much better, to be fair), it was still filling, and between poking at it with his fingers and slurping the bowl, he managed to finish the whole thing. His indiscretion and messiness earned him a big lick (or two) right up the side of the face, and he squeaked at it and pushed back against the invading muzzle, which only made her chuckle more.

“It’s good aint it?” Mr. Winters commented, still poking at his own. “Yep… found some rabbits out back when investigating what happened to my oxen. Good eatin’.”

“It’s lovely, Charles, thank you,” Helena agreed, already done with hers.

“Found some onions too. Good thing. Love onions…” Ash’ton could tell he was rambling in that old person way just to talk, but he didn’t mind. His belly was full and Mr. Winters had turned out quite kind after all, and he was feeling content. “Gimme some of that, would ya?” Mr. Winters commented as Helena was pulling out her smoking pipe and pouch of dried herbs. After packing one herself, she passed the leather satchel to him, and he did the same. The smell of smokeweed filled the air, and Ash’ton wriggled his nose, rubbing at it. The smoke wisping through the air started to twist and tumble, and as he'd seen plenty of times by now, it started to form a long, twining serpent as it danced about the living space. It was no less fantastical now than it had been when he'd first seen it, all those months ago; his favorite was to swipe at it as it came by, disrupting its form and scattering the image, but it always reformed just beyond his paws.

“Ashton, was it?” Mr. Winters asked, bringing him back to reality.

“That's the one,” his mother nodded.

“Good name… I like it.” He took a puff on his own pipe, his smoke simply collecting in a cloud instead of dancing merrily. “Cabbages were a bit small last year…”

“Yeah, I did notice that too,” she answered back politely, throwing a puff of her own that gathered his into a ribbon and started dancing with it.

“Course now I don't know how I'm gonna plow now… guess I'll have to teach the cow and hope they can hoof it.” Helena chuckled at this and blew a series of smoke rings.

“You could just ask, you know.”

“Bah, I wouldn't ask for that. I'm just a cranky old man.”

“Nonsense, we'll find you a new ox.”

“Well… can't say I wouldn't appreciate it.”

“See, was that so hard?”

“Hmph…”

After this transaction was sorted, and their harrowing ordeal was recounted for him, the conversation shifted to the most boring topics you could ever think to talk about, in the way that only old people could fathom. Sure he had an old soul or whatever, but even that had limits! He was no stranger to the comforts of her lap, and now that he had a full belly, and there were comforting voices floating in and out of his ears, he allowed himself to sink deeper into her embrace as he felt the comforting and soothing touch of her hand running through his head fluff and down his back. The voices all blended together as he felt the waking world peacefully slip away under her gentle touch.

Since this is a WIP, I’m including some end notes. Pace goes a little fast, I was worried about getting bogged down in the small stuff. Could add more slice of life, or more hunting (maybe armadillo creature is not home). Topics that I wanted covered have been covered though, it’s about where I want it narrative wise. And yes, he will grow as the story does. He’s not going to be small forever ;)