by Jim Galford
“Which is one of many reasons you shouldn’t be here,” snapped a male voice, as hands shoved her forward against the wall. One clamped down on her muzzle and the other fumbled at her belt near her knife, attempting to disarm her.
Panicking, Oria kicked out behind her, connecting with the other’s leg. His grip loosened and she twisted hard, sweeping her elbow across at head level. Her aim was true and the attacker stumbled back, clutching his face with one hand and Oria’s knife in the other.
The shock of being attacked paled in comparison to the surprise at what Oria faced. She had expected anything from decayed walking corpses to a horde of human slavers. What she had not expected in the least was another wildling, let alone a fox like her. Even less had she expected someone to be foolish enough to attack her alone.
Then again, not quite like her, she realized. Unlike the grey or red patterns of the foxes from the mountains—Oria, her brother, and her mother included—this male had a pale yellow, almost white, coat. Giant ears drew her attention up from his sputtering and rubbing at his bleeding nose. Even his muzzle was shorter than the foxes she was used to.
Whatever breed he was, he was not like any fox she had seen before, but he was also the first wildling she had seen since arriving in the desert. In some way, that made him an automatic plaything, especially if he was going to make the mistake of cornering her.
Oria then noticed that not only was the male garbed in the loose style of clothing from Corraith, but it was not the cheap and threadbare garments that Oria and her family wore. His were far finer made, with a lightweight suit of chain visible between the layers of his shirts. That meant very little to Oria, though.
It was the curved sword in a sheath at his hip that drew her attention. He now had two weapons and she was down to her claws and fangs.
“Leave me alone, or else,” Oria ordered him, standing straight.
The male blinked and looked up at her, raising the knife he had taken from her belt, pointing it at her. “I have the weapon,” he noted, keeping his free hand pressed against the left side of his nose to stop the blood flow. “I get to give the orders. Please take a knee and show me any other weapons you are carrying.”
Oria stepped confidently toward him, not terribly concerned after knocking him aside so easily. “Do you know what happened to the last male that grabbed me?”
The bleeding fox cocked his head somewhat.
“I scratched out his eye and my father broke his jaw and all his teeth. I think he still has to eat soup. So…do we need to do this? Mom won’t be happy if I have to kill you without at least getting your name.”
Either her words or her demeanor appeared to get through to the male, as he began looking around for an escape route or backup, still holding the knife toward her.
Lunging, Oria grabbed the male’s wrist, twisting hard as she plucked the knife free with her other hand. It was a trick Estin had taught her that required very little strength, but worked wonders against a careless foe.
Oria backed away again, sheathing her knife as the male stared at his empty hand in surprise.
“Get out of my way,” Oria insisted, smiling.
“You need to leave,” he told her, dropping his hand from his nose to the sheath of his sword. His other hand went to the hilt. “I do not want to hurt you, but you need to leave this place.”
Oria dearly loved challenges and this male was proving to be one. She eyed the sword, gauging how quickly he might be able to draw it. In the relatively narrow hallway, she was confident that she could reach him before he could clear the sheath, let alone raise the weapon. So long as he was the only one she was dealing with, she felt sure that she could get away with taunting him.
She took a step forward, watching the male’s disappointed expression and his inching of the sword from its sheath. The vast majority of the weapon remained in the thick leather cover.
“I said leave,” he demanded, finally looking to Oria as though he had the confidence to strike if needed. Now, he was a threat. “I will not warn you again.”
Oria dove in as fast as she could, reveling in the chance to fight after so long cooped up in the den. She kicked first, blocking the male’s attempt to draw his weapon by shoving the weapon back into the sheath and raking his hand with her claws. The moment she set her foot down on the floor, Oria punched the male in the throat, then shoved him over backward as he wheezed and clutched at his neck.
“I think I’ll go. Learn how to treat people properly before I visit again,” she said, stepping over the choking fox on her way out of the tunnel. “I’ll be sure to find you when I do come back, so you can show me you’ve learned your lesson.”
This, she thought to herself, was a fun night. She would have to do it again sometime. Sometime soon.
*
Two hours later, Oria arrived back at the den, carrying a handful of small fruits and some kind of fuzzy rodent she had caught scurrying around near the tunnels. Whether she knew what it was or not, it was still food. Then again, if it fit into her mouth, it qualified as food, given how long they had gone without much in the way of supplies.
When she neared the hidden entrance to the den, she could already hear Estin talking with the others. He had come back very early, considering that Feanne had told Oria he would be out all night. If he was back too soon, that might not be good news. They might need to be living on the desert rodents far longer than intended.
Oria slunk into the den as quietly as she could, hoping to overhear a little before they noticed her. Not that she expected to learn anything exciting, as Atall was being allowed to listen in as well.
“…the job is done. I’ve got what he asked for. Nothing exciting in there, aside from the maps,” Estin was saying.
“And again, I do not care about what you did or did not find,” Feanne said, propped up against the wall of the little cave. She looked tired, as she rested both hands on her swollen belly. “We need to be sure that he does not think you are holding out on him. A month or two of shelter and food is not worth getting yourself killed over. If this gets you killed, I will find a way to bring you back to punish you.”
Though normally such a comment would have elicited some degree of humor from Estin, this time he looked sort of sick or nervous. Oria was sure her mother missed that, but it struck Oria as odd. If it were anyone but Estin, she would have thought he was hiding something.
“What do you want me to tell him, other than the truth? You know he would want me to find treasures if they were there…the maps will have to do.”
Feanne shook her head. “I have no idea. Just be careful.”
“Dad,” Atall cut in, though he glanced toward Oria, “what if he doesn’t believe you? You told us that they expect more than they ask, every time.”
“Then I show him the empty house,” Estin explained, following Atall’s eyes. He gave Oria a nod of acknowledgement. “If he can find something that he wants out in the open, he’s welcome to it.”
“Are we in some kind of trouble?” asked Oria, looking between her parents. Neither would meet her eyes.
“I might be, but none of you are,” Estin told her at last, sweeping his tail across his lap. He fidgeted with it nervously. “I’ll make sure that all of you are safe, even if this deal goes badly for me. I did the job, but something about it makes me worry.”
“We will fight together as a family,” objected Feanne, baring her teeth slightly in a growl. “Like we always have.”
Estin seemed willing to sidestep his mate, looking instead between Oria and her brother as he spoke. It was not something Oria had seen him often do. “Atall, Oria, I want you two to protect your mother, no matter what happens. I’ll do what I can to keep you all safe, but I need you both to promise me that you’ll watch over her.”
Oria found herself ignoring her mother’s frantic objections as she mumbled her agreement.
With Feanne still attempting to argue, Estin just walked away, moving to the back of the den. Such an action would n
ot have struck Oria as odd in anyone else, but her father’s loyalty to her mother generally took the form of deferring to her in all things. She had always believed it to be a throwback to when Feanne had been pack-leader. This was the first time she had seen Estin openly defy her mother in anything more than jest.
Atall went to their mother’s side, whispering to her in an attempt to calm her down. From what Oria could see, Feanne would have been ready to kill if she were in better health. Instead, Feanne was seething, openly glaring at Estin.
Moving past the others, Oria followed Estin to where he had taken a seat at the back of the tiny den. She sat down across from him as he pulled out a book she had not seen before, then fumbled through a large sack to reveal an ink pot and several quills.
“What’re you doing?” she asked, leaning forward to watch.
Estin opened the book to the middle, where scribbled writing that Oria could not make out ended and blank pages began. Tapping the quill on the paper, Estin shrugged. “Your grandfather made sure everyone who would listen knew what the stories of his life were. The least I can do is write down a few of my own, just in case…”
Oria’s eyes went wide, realizing what her father was saying. It took her some time to find words, by which point he was writing quickly. “Don’t go back to the city,” she pleaded.
“Your mother asked me to do the same thing,” Estin answered her, still writing. “If I avoid going back, it guarantees that they will try to kill us. Better I only risk myself. Maybe I’m just worrying more than I should.”
Oria could find no way to argue that she thought her mother had not already covered. She just sat there for a while, her skin prickling with anxiety as she tried to think of anything she could do. At length, she shifted to sit alongside Estin, watching him write.
“You saw your parents murdered?” Oria blurted out, skimming the words as they were put to paper. “I never knew…”
Estin nodded grimly, writing on.
“How old were you?”
The quill stopped and Estin looked up at her, smiling slightly. “I was about the same age you were when you watched your real father die. Your grandfather told me that history repeats every so often. Sometimes seems like only the bad things do, though.”
Snuggling up against Estin’s arm, Oria lay silently as he began writing again. She took it all in, often surprised at the things he wrote, chronicling the early memories of his life. With the sun shining bright and hot through the entrance to the den, she finally drifted off to sleep in her father’s arms, listening to the distant scratching of the quill.
*
“This is the height of foolishness,” muttered Feanne, standing guard over Oria and Atall, arms crossed as she stared at the city walls. “That male will get himself killed without me.”
Oria had been watching her mother pacing and angrily ranting for nearly two hours. Neither she nor her brother was willing to intervene anymore after she had snapped at both of them earlier. Instead, they kept their mouths shut and eyes on the city.
Estin had left them far from the city walls, where they could watch the city comfortably in the shade of one of the nearer dunes, but where they were well outside the range of the archers on the walls. After the first hour, Feanne had moved them to the very limit of the archers’ range, where they had been baking under the setting sun’s light ever since. Occasionally the archers would stop and watch them for a while, before moving on. If Oria had to guess, they were more curious about why the three wildlings were sitting outside the city in the sun than about why they were there in the first place.
“I am going in after him,” Feanne announced abruptly and started marching across the sands toward the city.
Oria squeaked as she rushed to cut off her mother. Atall leapt ahead of her to plant himself in Feanne’s way, as Oria grabbed her by the arm.
“Dad said we wait until sundown and then we leave if he isn’t back,” Atall reminded their mother. “We need to wait or we could get him in even more trouble.”
From her grip, Oria felt her mother’s muscles tighten, as though she were restraining herself from either pushing past Atall, or outright attacking him. The tension faded mostly away in seconds.
“I cannot wait around for them to deliver my mate to me without his head,” she insisted, turning toward the west. There, the sun was low in the sky, but still partially visible. “I will wait another half hour, then I am going in after him, with or without the two of you.”
Oria leaned so that she could see her brother’s face. He looked back at her, his expression agreeing with her that their mother was insane.
“Mom, what would you do if you went in?” Oria asked, knowing she was asking for trouble by going down that path. She saw little other route though.
“I will fight my way in if I have to, so that I can get your father back.”
Oria made a pointed look down at her mother’s swollen stomach. “You may have your magic,” argued Oria, releasing her mother’s wrist, “but you aren’t strong enough to fight. Argue all you want, but the two of us can probably wrestle you down.”
Feanne’s mouth curled in an angry snarl, but that faded and her shoulders sank. She nodded grimly. “I cannot even invoke the powers nature gave me to tear a man in half without losing the kits,” she stated sadly, as though any female should be able to do such a thing. “That does not mean I would not try, if it was the only way to save Estin. I owe him that much.”
“You might not have to go far for that,” Atall announced, having turned toward the city. “He’s coming out.”
Oria shifted to look up the sandy rise with her mother. At the gap in the broken city walls, she could just make out the vaguely-human shape of her father, his long white-and-black tail marking him even from so far out. Flanking him were two men that were larger than he was, but there was no sign of any drawn weapons.
“Watch him for any sign that he is their captive,” Feanne said softy. “Atall, you take the one on the left. Oria, you have the other. I want both dead before the archers can react. If you can bring them down that fast, your father can probably keep the archers from killing us all while we get to cover.”
They watched as the three figures moved out past the wall and away from the main road into the city, veering toward Feanne and the kits.
“Wait for them to get outside the range of the archers if they will come this far,” Feanne told them. She looked up at the sky, then back to the approaching trio. “I believe I can call down the powers of nature to end this very quickly, though I have no more than one spell in me before it puts me at risk. By any nature spirit that will still hear my call, I will find a way to see them die if they harm him.”
The three wildlings waited in silence as Estin and the humans drew closer. As they walked, the last of the sun’s light fell behind the hills. Though Estin said nothing, Oria watched him make several slight motions toward them that told more than he probably could say aloud.
“Be careful,” was one.
“It’s ok,” was another.
That second gave Oria a lot of relief. Her father might not trust these men, but he believed things were fine. If he thought things were going to be all right, then that was good enough for her.
“You’re the wife and brats?” asked one of the human men, looking down his nose at Oria. “You don’t look anything like him.”
“And your kind all look the same,” snapped Feanne crossly. “Why have you made us wait?”
“The boss had a lot of questions for your man. They talked it out.”
“Then why does my mate require both of you standing guard over him?”
The unspoken human lifted a small leather pouch and jingled it.
“We’re paying for your room at an inn,” explained the first. “The boss isn’t going to just hand you the money. We get to escort you to the inn.”
Oria glanced sideways at her brother. He did not look back, but she could see his ears twitching nervously and his tail w
as perfectly still. Apparently he felt as unsure about this as she did.
“Very well, lead the way,” answered Feanne after a long pause. Her tone was all honey, but Oria noticed that she was touching each of her claws to her palm, testing their sharpness.
The two humans turned and began walking back toward the town, as Estin fell in alongside Feanne with Oria and Atall behind.
“Are you well?” Feanne asked softly, taking Estin’s hand in hers. She made no effort to hide a glance at the swords on his back. “Was there any problem with the deal we had worked out?”
He shook his head. “I’m fine, Feanne, and no, there was no problem with the deal, just a lot of talking. I told him about the signs I found that the previous owner had run off and we agreed that anything more than the maps had been taken with him. I just had to agree to keep my ears to the ground for any indications of the man’s return.”
They continued onward, though Oria felt all of them slow their pace as they reached the opening into the walls. Far above, she could see two elves watching them, bows readied. If she were going to set a trap, this would be how it would feel.
Passing beyond the wall did not improve things any. The men and women that still remained on the streets this late were giving them odd stares. Feanne’s reaction was to hide her face in her hood, but Oria soon realized that people were not looking at a group of wildlings...they were watching the two humans escorting them. She truly had to wonder who her father had chosen to work for this time.
Through the streets they went, until the humans led them to a squat two story building, which appeared to have been patched and rebuilt so many times that it no longer fit in with the surrounding city.
“It’s a cheap inn, but the boss says you didn’t ask for nice,” said the lead human, as if reading Oria’s thoughts.
In through the door they went, the two men leading them straight to an older elven woman with long unkempt grey hair sitting near a row of wine bottles and kegs.
“The four of them are staying here and are eating on our coin,” stated their guide, motioning for his companion. The second man threw the bag of coins into the woman’s lap. “When the coin runs out, they’re not our problem.”
