Winter wanders down the mountain, the snow crunching with each step of her bare feet. The only warmth she has in the alpine forest comes from her tail, hair, and clothes. Each of these things is in quite a sorry condition. Her bushy tail—which isn’t that bushy anymore—is matted, tangled, and filthy. Her long, straight hair which falls loosely just past her hips is a dirty, clumped, frizzy mess of snowy silk. Because of its length, her hair and tail keep tangling together, which is pissing her off.

Sometimes she envies humans and their funky little ears. Sensitive hearing and cute fox ears are nice and all, but times like this make her wish she had human ears. No, never mind ears; Times like this make her want a brush! Back in her village, every fox carried a brush! The mere feeling of her dirty fur and hair touching her skin makes her wanna leap into the first body of water she sees. Even a well would be a dive spot in her eyes.

Winter might have become spoiled in her recent years.

She didn’t realize how much the forest would annoy her now. Ever since Master bought her, she’d been indoors 24/7. She always had access to a bath, a furnace, a comb, and even decent food every once in a while. Life as a slave to Master wasn’t horrible with all things considered. Except that she couldn’t go outside, hunt any worthwhile food, had to eat rats and mice, and got whipped when she spoke out…

Winter's old life in her village was better by innumerable magnitudes. Living with her people, eating food she both enjoyed and earned, bathing in the crystalline hot spring waters: it was wonderful. Being back in the woods, even though it was on the other side of the mountain range, made her think about those times. She doesn't remember the messiness of her more vain assets bothering her back then. Perhaps it was because other foxes were with her sharing the inconvenience. Maybe it was because they were hygienic, bathing and grooming with frequency. Most likely though, it was because they didn't fall off cliffs while lugging around giant mysterious weapons.

Whatever the real reason, the fact is that she's not enjoying her woodland hike.

At least, not without a brush.

Also not with an unwieldy giant weapon.

Also not without any real clothes. Really, can't a girl at least have some pants?

Winter trudges through the forest, half-regretting not going back to the road. She avoided the path since she didn’t want to get spotted, bandits to find her, or her scent picked up. In case hounds got sent on her tail, she tried to go somewhere inconvenient for them to follow. The trade-off for this is that she has to walk through the cold forest half-naked, filthy, and without any food or water. Because of that, after what feels like hours of walking, she almost wishes she had taken her chances on the road.

Though she's seen many animals, she's exhausted and covered in cuts and bruises. Giving chase is too much for her at the moment. Also, she won't waste a shot on mere game unless she's starving. If a monster attacks her, which, with her luck, will happen, she’ll have to shoot it. She won’t mess with monsters, not here.

Ok, that's a lie.

There’s a little something Winter wants to test out. When she cough cough "did the thing" to that guard, the weapon seems to have upgraded. It manifested a rectangular screen on the side which displayed, what she assumed to be, a kill count. Judging from the tally on the screen, her earlier kill has been registered. Winter wants to test if, to increase the tally, it must be a human or similar. She doesn't necessarily want to kill anyone, so she hopes that monster or wildlife extermination will count towards the tally. Since she also doesn't want to waste any shots, she isn't looking for monsters. Because of her curiosity, though, she was secretly hoping one stumbled across her. She's acting under the assumption that more kills will upgrade the weapon. Winter assumes that the kills must come from the weapon itself to increase the tally, but she wants to test that to be sure. She also wants to test if she needs to get a kill specifically by firing the weapon; Because if she can merely beat something to death with it, her life would be much easier.

Regarding the tally, weapons upgrading themselves via kills isn't unheard of. But, they're almost always swords, and, well, every self-improving sword of legend has been sentient. They also didn't have kill counts! At least, as far as she knows.

Holding up the weapon, she pokes it, squinting her eyes at its glistening exterior.

"Hey, I'm Winter." The fox sets the weapon down and crouches. "If I learn you can talk later, I'm going to break you. If you start now though, I'll forgive you, buddy. Capiche?"

Nothing.

Good that nobody saw this.

She lifts it up and brushes the snow off the side, pretending she never tried to start a conversation with an inanimate object. Her eyes drifted to the hourglass-shaped top piece, suddenly reminded of something familiar. She uncaps both sides and examines the glass toward the farthest mountain. She lifts the weapon into what she considers the firing position, resting her head on its back. Through the tunnel, she sees an excellent-quality close-up of the trees.

Now she feels dumb. It's just a telescope: the one feature she should've recognized…

Her village, despite not valuing astronomy all that much, still had one nutty girl obsessed with it. The girl had a huge, makeshift telescope mounted atop her mothers' roof. Winter was a tentative "friend" of the odd girl. Only because she felt guilty whenever she saw her stargazing alone. Due to this, she has had more experiences than she liked with telescopes. Regardless, it should've been enough experience to recognize the mounted telescope on the weapon.

Winter's eyes turn up to the tall, white-tipped evergreens as an idea pops into her head. Re-slinging her weapon, she jumps, lifting herself onto the lowest hanging branch. The girl grimaces at how the bark stabs into her hands and feet. As she moves from branch to branch, Winter ignores the discomfort and probable splinters.

The weapon, meanwhile, continues its sadistic streak of unbalancing her. It slips off her shoulder mid-climb, causing her to reach out on reflex. She catches it with a lunge, inducing her to slip down the trunk, further tearing her already ripped rags. She lands on a thick branch, shaking the snow-covered top of the tree. Winter groans as snow rains down. Flattening her ears too late, the snow forms a freezing crust over her inner ear fluff.

A grueling ten minutes later, she finally reaches the top. She doesn't even care when the frozen wind slithers up her almost naked body. Winter deserves it. If she were smarter, she would've given up sooner, but she couldn't let herself lose to a tree. She'd sunk too much energy into climbing to give up halfway.

Letting out a deep breath, Winter checks her surroundings with the naked eye. Not seeing anything of immediate interest, she unslings the weapon and holds it up to her face. Through the telescope, every nook and cranny of the valley is visible.

The frosted, boreal trees block her view of the ground near and uphill of her. Down the mountain though, she could make out a rushing river. Wide, fast, and forceful, following it through the scope took her to a large, frozen-over lake sitting far in the distance. Wrapping around the far side of the lake, Winter could see buildings, many of them in poor condition. Whatever caused the damage must've been done recently with how some chimneys are still releasing plumes of smoke. In fact, the town might have been abandoned because of how damaged every house seems to be.

Whatever the case, Winter could use the shelter. Since she can't see the streets though, it's impossible to conclude abandonment. However, she won't risk getting ambushed by monsters in the dead of night. Her epic super-weapon won't be much help if she's torn to shreds while she sleeps, so she must take her chances with civilization.

She needs to eat, she needs to rest, and she needs a goddamn brush!

Winter recaps the telescope and climbs back down the tree. She tries to ignore the splinters and debris poking into her skin as she resumes walking. If news about her escape has spread, discomfort will be the least of her problems.

Should the town be inhabited, approaching the gates will therefore be an unsafe move. Perhaps she can try asking someone outside the town. A fisherman or hunter, if they’ve heard anything, likely wouldn't be able to capture her.

Although, it hasn’t even been a day since her escape. If she does make it inside the town and it's populated, a messenger could visit during her stay. In this event, Winter is deader than dead. The best-case scenario is that a messenger never comes, but that's wishful thinking on her part.

Ultimately, she has to try something and sooner is better. Anyone outside the town will return by sunset, and dusk is only a few hours away.

So, Winter trudges toward the river, humming to herself as she hikes. When she arrives, she immediately lowers her hand into the rushing waters. The current is cold and strong so Winter lowers her head and drinks as much as possible. The longer one goes without water the more refreshing the next drink becomes. She can't imagine how tasty her next meal will be.

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Since she's already here, a cold, rushing river is perfect to clean herself off. The fox flops down on the rocks and lets the water flow across her body, washing the wood chips, ice, and filth off her. If she was cold before, she's freezing now, but it was all worth it to retain a modicum of cleanliness. Winter, soaked but unsoiled, walks downstream.

About an hour later, Winter finally comes within sight of a town's walls, her body only a little wet now. Odd, since the destroyed structures she saw earlier lie on the opposite side of the lake. The tall trees must've blocked her view of this much closer sister town.

She halts all movement as the exterior wall comes into view. Ahead, in front of the walls, lies a field of tree stumps, a flickering torch atop each base. Even the darkest areas of the clearing are still at least somewhat illuminated. Winter, seeing the silhouette of a guard tower, immediately scraps the possibility of sneaking in. This lake town, unlike the one she saw before, stands in a well-maintained condition. With the lit torches and imposing wooden structures ahead of her, she saw no way into the town. Though dusk had nearly arrived, the oncoming darkness would do nothing to assist her here. With a stealthy land entrance off-limits, her thoughts turn to the river. The mountainous slope the river follows to the lake is much less steep gliding into the town. The waters are therefore less foamy, slower, and clearer. Even now, Winter could see the riverbed. Any sentinel on watch, assuming they were paying attention, would, without a doubt, hear and see her.

Winter retreated back into the woods, keeping the town lights in her periphery. She doesn't want to get lost, so she keeps close while she examines the entire stockade. From the river to the lake, all she learns is that the town is big. She can't help but feel the defenders are paranoid though. Winter understands that a large population needs diligent protectors... but placing a guard tower on the lake? Really? Isn't that a bit much?

She was seriously considering trying to sneak across the ice to the docks, but lanterns were everywhere! Are the inhabitants really that afraid of the dark? What could they possibly be on the lookout for?

It couldn't be her... right? No way... they wouldn't have had time to set all this up just for one little fox.

Winter, walking to the front gate, could tell that the stationed guards were humans. Humans, especially the religious ones, tended to view her as a lost puppy whenever she cried. For once, she hopes these humans are that sort. All she wants is for the inhabitants to be hospitable to the crying, lonely fox girl who came to their doorstep.

What kind of monsters would turn her away?

Winter chokes back a sob as she mucks herself back up, undoing the wonderful bathing she had done in the river. Winter dramatically lumbers toward the gate, keeping her face down, groaning in imaginary pain.

Hearing a clattering from above, she collapses onto her knees at the entrance. If a messenger had arrived, the guards would know the escapee is, as the humans call her, a "Vulin." Worse, considering that her kind is rare, even among this, their native region, there won't be an opportunity to play her usual trump card, “Oh? You know the escapee has white hair, ears, and a tail? That describes us all, dumbass!” This was her go-to whenever she stole something at the winery. Another reason she shouldn't use this is that being rude to these people, ones whose goodwill she’s banking on, wouldn’t be the best play. But god damn it! she’s been biting her tongue all day, she needs to let loose on someone.

After a frustrating minute or so of fake sobbing, her ears twitch at a faint sound of rustling inside the walls. When the gate finally opens, a lantern gets shoved in her face and a young-looking guard examines her. Though she begins preparing herself to run, she stops when the boy forcefully widens her eyes and stares into them.

To her confusion, he then turns around and begins to open the gate, not speaking a word.

Winter stands up and walks in with caution. With her back turned the guard takes notice of something he hadn't before in the dim moonlight.

“Hey, what’s that? You trying to sneak something past me?” He grabs Winter's arm, holding her with an iron grip.

Winter, afraid, hurriedly replied, “I have no idea, I swear! I thought it might be worth something since I haven't seen it before...” She wasn't about to honestly reveal its capabilities; She could see no positive result from having candor in this situation.

The guard seemed curious. A glint showed up in his eyes while his mouth curled into a smirk. His arms reached out and his hands open with an unspoken expectation.

Winter, reluctant, hands the weapon to him, keeping the strap wound around her torso. He examines it swiftly with a happy grin. He looks down the barrel, twirls it in his hands, and then finally gives it back to the injured vulin. “Go on in, but any trouble and I’m taking that thing. You were right: it looks expensive,” He said, the grin widening.

Winter scowls and snatches it from his grasp. With her mood soured, the girl officially enters into town. Her jagged nails tear into her rags as she walks down the road. Few citizens wander the streets, but those that do seem almost as destitute as Winter. The only difference between them and her is that they have actual clothes. Because of this, a minuscule amount of sympathy softened her expression by the slightest bit. As she continued, she scanned for shelter, any open alleys or abandoned houses.

The closer she gets to the lakefront, the more and more people occupy makeshift shelters. Often it's entire families, many with apparent, severe bodily injuries. Their clothes are torn to act as gauze and their bags are laid down like pillows. Sights such as these aren't novel to Winter. The large, human city not far from the winery had a similar problem. Despite this, Winter couldn't help but stop when she saw a little girl with antlers, no older than twelve, alone. Walking into the dim alley she occupied, Winter smirked. The horned girl, struggling to carry a big chunk of firewood, met Winter's smug gaze.

“Sali, ara! Sersi shuna, herma?” Winter asked, giggling with a nasty tone.

The fox's face is lit by a dim, dying flame in the middle of the alley.

Despite Winter's mocking words in the other language, the herma girl looks remarkably perplexed. There's no way the kid couldn't speak Sona, right?

Winter, a bit annoyed by the younger girl’s silent gaze, decided to ask, "Lula Sona, eh herma?"

The little girl stares momentarily before responding, "Do you not speak the common tongue?" Her gaze shifted to Winter's almost exposed chest before flicking away. "Or are you one of those foreign prostitutes...?"

Aggravated, Winter responded immediately, "Of course I do! My fault for assuming a herma would speak her own damn language!" The fox, pissed, kicks the firewood. Winter yelps and holds her bruised naked foot, hopping on the other as she grits her teeth.

"Bitch..." The herma mutters, tossing the firewood onto the dying flames. The sheer size of the log suffocates the flame immediately, launching a cloud of ash into the air and causing her to shriek. She blows on the dying remains of the fire desperately, throwing herself onto the ground.

"Heh. Typical clumsy herma." Winter chuckles and crouches down by the dying embers. Ignoring the swelling in her foot, she blows softly along with the small girl. Winter tears a chunk off of what remains of her rags, igniting it and spreading the flames to the dry bark.

The little girl, even more confused than earlier, looks up at Winter. "What's up with you?" She blurts, a little bothered that the fox doesn't even bat an eye in her direction. "Also, what's a 'herma?'"

To that, Winter tilts her head, side-eying her. "You? You're a herma, aren't you? Or, what dumb term would you call your race?"

"Besides pathetic? A ferma," she answers, realization dawning like an ugly sunset. "Oh, you've just been mispronouncing it?"

At that, Winter glares, leaning menacingly over the ferma girl. "No, herma is the correct way to refer to you. You're the one butchering it."

"Whatever, but don't call me herma anymore, you weirdo. I have a name."

"Oh, how kind of you to tell me what it was!"

"You were too busy kicking my stuff."

"I have big ears, I would've heard it."

"Even if that were true, you were speaking a different tongue."

"A tongue you should know if you were raised correctly."

"Like how you were raised?"

"Exactly."

"You know, maybe my upbringing has been better than I thought..."

Winter frowns and looks down at her. "Are you seriously not gonna say your name?"

The ferma sighs and watches the fire spread across the bark. "Sally, no last name."

"Wow, you really have been raised by humans... Well, behold, for I am the great WINTER!"

Sally gives a bored, unimpressed clap. "Isn't that also a human name?"

"..."

Sally rolls her eyes and flops over, brushing one of the signature features of the ferma: the mane. They all have fluffy, thick manes around their necks like natural scarves. Winter has run into plenty of ferma, so this isn't what caught her attention. No, something far more important and consequential was present: a BRUSH!

Without hesitation, Winter pounces onto Sally and yanks the brush from her. The fox slinks into the corner and brushes wildly, giggling like a child. Sally, angry, yells "Hey!" and goes to attack, but stops right before she grabs her. As the fire flares up, illuminating the alley, she notices a dark, immaculate object hanging onto the fox's back. "What is that...?"

"Hmm?" Winter turns but neglects to cease her vigorous brushing.

"That... thing! What else would I be talking about?"

"My incredible ears, or tail, or hair, or flawless skin? Perhaps another object someone of lesser intelligence would have their focus taken by?"

Ignoring the comment, Sally's curiosity flares. "I'll let you keep the brush if you explain what that is."

"Why don't I just keep the brush and run?" Winter's icy eyes shine in the dark corner, her white fur glistening in the firelight. A mischievous grin builds on her face.

Sally responds instantly, "Because vulins are narcissists who love to talk about themselves?"

"Excellent answer!" Winter smiles and sits back down by the fire. "Basically, I found it in a hidden cache and it shoots stuff. That's almost all I know, so thanks for the brush!" Winter flops over onto her fluffy tail like a pillow. The weapon, still strapped to her, falls onto the frosty gravel.

"Wait, you must know more--uh, what...?" Sally stares at Winter who begins cuddling her own tail. The fox fell asleep in an instant. Sally looks at the older girl, dumbfounded. "What a weirdo..."