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The Abbey

Pale grey on black; the contrast between the individual stone blocks set into the abbey wall was unerringly fascinating to the young vixen, who hesitated, a little distance away from the half ruined structure, torn between curiosity and the sense of unease stirring in her stomach. Before that day, she had not even known that the abbey existed, although now that she stood in its formidable, almost searching presence, she found herself unexpectedly drawn to it. It was as if some conscious force was reeling her in, bit by bit, like a fish on a line. Hooked and unable to escape.

Truth be told, it was not much of an abbey any longer, if she was brutally honest with herself. Much of it was a true ruin with few redeeming features that could be used to distinguish one dilapidated stone wall from the next. The ivy laced stonework held a smug air to its very foundations, as if the structure was a conscious being and had deemed her unworthy to stand even a small distance from its exterior. Though she knew full well how ridiculous that thought was, despite the fact that she was unable to shake the icy chill from her skin.

It was a ruined building, nothing more than that, she told herself sternly, sweeping her gaze along the length of it with the eye of a critic, picking out miniscule features that she had not noticed before. Doorways to nowhere with the surrounding walls fallen away; the rough look of the stone; the way shadows were cast over the passage leading into the abbey from this side. And if she craned her neck to a near impossible angle, she could see the pinnacle of the central pillar rising from the only room that could still be discernable as a gathering place of monks for prayer and worship.

It could do her no harm to explore within the building for some time - and free time was surely something that she had too much of lately, she wryly reasoned with herself. Soon she found herself striding with purpose off the main path and approaching the broad archway, which permitted entry into least deprecated area. Around, all seemed unerringly quiet, but it was not an observation that was personally made as she paced closer, reaching out a small, pale paw to brush a winding strand of ivy from her face. The arch and adjoining walls were thickly laced with the plant, so much that in places the stonework was not visible at all. She had the fleeting thought that although the day was reasonably warm and comfortable, as she paced towards the arch the air around seemed to take on a heavier yet cooler quality to it, almost as if it was pushing her back. But she shrugged off the thought, her mind wandering to how damp the grass was under her worn trainers, to the extent that it was seeping through to her hind paws, and how aggravating the small pebbles that had wormed their way against her socks were. She stepped under the arch.

Shadows closed in around her and she had to blink several times to regain her bearings, semi-blind for a few brief yet unnerving seconds. The coolness of them seeped into her skin like water, proving a welcome relief from the comparative glare of the sun; she had not realised just how warm the day had become. And indeed, heat appeared to be rising from the very walls of the abbey that were visible from her position, under the shade of the archway but not thus entered the central room. Far from simply viewing it as a purely natural occurrence due to the warmth of the sun on the cool stone, to the fox it seemed as if the very structure of the abbey was shimmering with an otherworldly force, as if it was being protected in some way. It was a mesmerising sight.

As much as she would have liked to, she could not stand and contemplate the abbey forever. Time was passing, imperceptibly but surely, and if she intended to continue her exploration, she needed to make the venture quick. She would be expected at home. Turning away from the outside world, she took the few, short steps that would send her into the circular room that had drawn her so. Once again, she stepped into bright sunlight, this time shading her eyes against the glare, and breathed in sharply.

Inside, all was changed.

A wave of dizziness washed over her and she leaned heavily against the wall, struggling to regain her balance as she pressed a strangely hot paw to her forehead as if she was suddenly taken ill. Something - she didn't know what - but something was in the room with her. Her stomach lurched and she clutched at it with a groan. Then there was the insistent notion that the room was slowly turning about her, like a gear in a truly enormous clock, something she had now become a part of. But no - that was wrong. It was more like an invisible but continuous stream of motion swirling about her frame, akin to a breath of wind. In the streaming mass it was impossible to pinpoint any individual movement but it was there, surely. She could feel it. Like the breath of wind, which she already likened it to, it could not be seen by the naked eye, even as the pressure of it brushed against her russet fur as a lover would drop a kiss. Although, for some strange reason, she did not question the reason why she was able to sense the presence or why she was so undoubtedly certain that there was something there, even if she was not entirely sure what.

Her disregard for her more practical side made her shiver. She felt like a puppet whose puppeteer had run mad, directing her without concern for her views or desires. There was no sane logic as to why she was driven forward, unable to take the smallest of steps backwards, but she was, that fact could not be denied. The cool stone still pressed against the pad of her paw where she was supporting herself, unknowingly leaning in to its embrace. Events were rapidly spiralling out of her weak grasp and there were no means with which she could prevent it. She was not sure if she wanted to.

Almost against her will, she marched into the centre, standing with her back pressed against the reassuring, curved stone of the pillar, eyes dropping closed and lips parting in a slight smile. She forgot her family, her walk and purpose for the day: none of that mattered any longer. Around, the swirling force intensified, becoming almost manic in nature, dancers and their partners flitting between one another in a myriad of senses and shades. She gasped at the feeling, called by some primal, instinctive urge to join them and, oh, how they urged her in. It was all she could do to gather her last shreds of willpower and remain against the pillar, a mere spectator rather than a participant in the invisible beauty.

If asked about the incident later, when she returned with her clothes streaked with mud and her black hair in a rough, suspicious halo around her face, she would simply say that she had lost track of time on her walk. But in that moment, the outside world ceased to matter, to exist, to be. How could it matter, she asked herself, overwhelmed by the rushing, whispering motion, which she knew would weave tirelessly back and forth for eternity, when the world was turning about her, spinning her form in a dizzying and exhilarating circle over and over again?

And she was the core of it.