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Six Years

Chapter 1

Etienne peered out the window at the golden light of S'pru, his paws behind his back, the light reflecting in a yellow swirl in his vivid blue eye. Long blonde tresses tumbled over the snug eyepatch he wore, while the rest of his golden mane was pulled back in an immaculate tail that fell long down his back. It was afternoon, and he was dressed in a velvety blue coat and tight breeches. Rings glittered on his fingers, and a great emerald - an ancient heirloom of the Emerald dynasty - hung against his chest. It was called the Emerald of Varimore and had been worn by every king since King Antony, who wore it the day he executed Nadheertia. Etienne hated wearing the thing, as he felt it was in poor taste. But it was a tradition as old - if not older - as Varimore, and he had already broken so many other traditions.

A thin number of foxes chose not to go to S'pru, and Etienne outlawed the Hunt to protect them, leaving a hole in the economy, and from it, birthing anger and discontent. Fox pelts continued to be sold illegally, through back alley merchants and underground crime factions. With the foxes departing to S'pru en masse and dogs scrambling left and right to kill them, the fox population had dwindled significantly. Foxes had become so rare, the price of their pelts went up, and many simple country dogs lost a steady source of income, while many tailors were forced to close down. And Etienne, who was the source of all this misery, knew his effigy was burned by bitter dogs, deep in the forests of his vast kingdom.

Etienne hadn't seen a fox in six years, so to have Mogethis and her brother suddenly appear in his court was nothing short of flabbergasting. Especially when he had spent the last six years believing they were dead. Standing alone with them in the throne room of Wychowl, he looked out the window and felt their angry stares as the warm light of S'pru caressed his face.

"Why did you bring her to me?" Etienne asked, trying to ignore the all-too-familiar scent of Taiga the little girl carried. The child stood beside Nkwe, staring at Etienne owlishly as she clung to the fox's arm. Etienne could barely bring himself to look at the child. His child. "Did you expect something? Safe passage to the bridge of light, perhaps?" He knew many foxes were still trying to get to S'pru, that many dogs were rallying to stop them, killing those that tried to leave Aonre for the new world in the sky. "Or perhaps you simply want recompense," Etienne said, still staring out the window.

"We brought her to you because you are her father," Mogethis said indignantly. "We came here seeking no reward, dog god. As if we had use for your filthy gold."

Etienne swallowed and regretted having asked -- though he couldn't pretend he wasn't the least bit suspicious. Mogethis and her brother were criminals, after all. Cold-blooded murderers. He had spent the last few years believing they had been punished for their crimes, but now here they stood, side by side in his throne room. He couldn't decide whether to feel relief or fear. He had carried the burden of their deaths for six years, believing he could have stopped it, that he could have fought to give them a chance. But instead he sat. And said nothing as Kesuk marched them off to die.

Upon their arrival, Etienne had ordered everyone out, disregarding the concern of Captain Franklin, the captain of his guard. Now they were alone in the vast hall, with only the sound of the wind against the window. Etienne still couldn't look at the child, though he could feel her staring at him with her large blue eyes. His blue eyes.

"Etienne," Nkwe said in a low voice, as if demanding some sort of response.

Etienne took a breath and finally looked unhappily at the child, this little girl Taiga had begged him for, and he a felt sting to see Taiga's bright and defiant soul in her every expression. And yet, barring her few fox-like attributes, the girl looked exactly like him. She appeared to be somewhere near six years of age, which would have been the right age for a child of Taiga's. Mogethis and her brother could have brought the girl years before, but they hadn't. And looking at the possessive, angry way in which Nkwe clutched the child, Etienne thought he understood why. He glanced at Mogethis, who was watching him impatiently.

White Mogethis was still beautiful, and she and her brother hadn't changed a day. Nkwe still appeared young and handsome and was still very angry, his eyes glinting behind streaks of red mane. He and his sister had the same blue eyes with the same slanted shape. They stood in wolfskins and bear furs, wearing feather necklaces and beaded bracelets, pouches on their belts, and cloaks. Their hoods were up, but Etienne knew they were each missing an ear. He thought of Kesuk returning to camp with the siblings' ears and held back a smile: Kesuk had been brave enough to show mercy where Etienne could not.

The child stared at Etienne with dried tears staining in trails down her cheeks. He could only imagine what coming to the city had been like for her. Seeing so many dogs and tall buildings had probably been frightening, and now she was in a strange place, faced with a towering, unsmiling, one-eyed dog-king, and she was probably terrified Nkwe and Mogethis were going to leave her behind. Like her caretakers, she was wearing wolfskins and feathers, her golden mane was a tousled mess, and she looked like a wild creature of the forest, not the dignified princess she would become should she stay in Wychowl. Etienne looked at her and felt as terrified as she: he didn't know how to be a father. And he would not wish a life ruling Varimore on his greatest enemy, let alone his child.

Etienne turned to face the foxes, his paws behind his back. "You would risk your lives to come here," he said curiously, "to bring her to me? And you do realize you have risked your very lives? I could punish you for your crimes far more easily than I could pardon you. I may have no choice in the matter. My subjects are out for blood after I banned the Hunt. I've had seven royal food tasters die in the last six years. I risk my very life by sparring your own. Maybe you should just go back to the forest. Take her with you."

"Tch! This coming from a dog lord who was always merciful and weak," sneered Mogethis incredulously.

Etienne smiled at the vixen, sincerely amused by her derision. "Mogethis. Always were the pragmatist, weren't you?"

"And I respect no less in a king," Mogethis said at once. "But you would turn away your own flesh and blood? I pity these dogs, that they have you for their ruler --"

"Mogethis!" Nkwe hissed.

"-- and I pity this child," Mogethis went on, ignoring her brother, "that she has you for a father!"

Etienne stared at Mogethis, taken aback that she was showing so much concern for the child. He remembered a Mogethis who was cold and uncaring.

"Mogethis . . ." Etienne studied the vixen, his eye dancing over her twisted face. "You . . . love my daughter?"

Mogethis glared at him. "You do not deserve her! And I can not grasp what Taiga ever saw in you that she would spread her --!"

Nkwe flinched angrily. "Enough!" he shouted, and the child looked at him in wonder and fear. He swallowed hard and smoothed down her wild mane, but his angry eyes were fixed on Mogethis, who was stiffly and shamefully avoiding his eye. "This is not about us, Mogethis. This is about Zeinara."

Etienne lifted his brows. Zeinara?

Nkwe took a step forward, his eyes fixed, angry and intent, on Etienne. "If you can not risk our presence in your court, then we will leave the girl here --" Mogethis made a noise of protest, but Nkwe went on, "She must stay with you. Can you not see that we have come here because we love her? We want what is best for her. And after years of raising her in the forest, the unfortunate reality has come to our attention that you are best for her."

Etienne laughed mirthlessly. He folded his arms and leaned against the wall. "And how did you come to this conclusion, pray tell? The contempt in your face - in both your faces - is excruciatingly clear. Yet you bring her here?"

Nkwe swallowed unhappily. "I lived all my life afraid to love because I knew some dog would just kill my lover," he said heavily. "Dogs attack us in the forest everyday. We might settle for a week before we are chased away with steel and fire. We can not continue to put the girl in danger. I love her. I will not allow your dogs to harm her." Nkwe stared into Etienne's eyes for a long beat, in silent earnest, and as Etienne stared back, it finally sank in just how deeply Nkwe cared for his daughter, this little girl he had fathered on Taiga. His poor Taiga.

Etienne cleared his throat and pushed himself up from the wall. "Alright," he said simply and turned away, walking up the red carpet to his throne. He sat wearily and gestured one of the guards near. The guard glared at Mogethis and Nkwe as he made his way from the hall. He leaned down and Etienne murmured instructions to him. He bowed dutifully and marched to the hall again.

"Alright?" Nkwe repeated angrily. He went to the throne, clutching the child still by the paw. Mogethis followed. "What does that mean?" Nkwe demanded. "Will you take her?" His face darkened. "Will you love her?"

Etienne didn't look at Nkwe as guards and courtiers filled the throne room again. "I love her already," he said solemnly.

Mogethis snorted. "You have barely looked at her. You have not asked to hold her or kiss her or smell her mane. She is your child and carries your scent, her large eyes cry for your love, but you ignore her." Mogethis shook her head. "I told you we shouldn't have come here," she hissed at her brother.

"Please," Nkwe said unhappily. "You have to love her. Here . . . hold her . . ." He fumbled to lift the child and set her on the step at the foot of the throne.

The tiny girl gazed up at Etienne, blinking her large blue eyes at him. Etienne looked at her with pained eyes and looked away again. He didn't make a move to touch her as Beauceron slaves appeared behind Nkwe and Mogethis. "They will show you to your quarters," Etienne said, not looking at the sibling foxes but past them. "You will live here in Wychowl. You will help me raise her."

"You mean we will raise her," Mogethis said derisively.

Nkwe scowled. "Why won't you look at her! Look at her! God damn you! She is yours!" So saying, he snatched the child up and dropped her on Etienne's lap.

"No - Nkwe, please . . ." Etienne protested unhappily, but it was too late. The tiny girl stared at Etienne with her large eyes and he stared back, wondering where Taiga's grave was, if Asres lived still. Tears started to his eye at the very thought. The tiny girl frowned to see his tears. She reached up and clapped her pudgy paw to his cheek, as if to stop them. When that didn't work, she grabbed his eyepatch - and before he could stop her, she ripped it clean off. Her screams when she saw his eye socket tore through the hall. Nkwe hastily gathered the child in his arms, and he and Mogethis left with the Beaucerons . . . as the her shrill screams echoed in Etienne's unhappy heart.