Brian entered the dimly lit room, the flickering torch in his hand casting long shadows on the walls. The only other light came from a torch beside the throne where Chief Talon sat, his expression distant as he searched his own body, patting his fur and clothing with frantic hands.

"Chief Talon," Brian began, his voice low.

Talon looked up without stopping his hands.

“Sorry I came this late.”

Talon stood up, searching the side of the throne.

"I need to speak with you about Aileen."

His back turned against Brian, the chief started to search frantically. Talon's attention focused on the surroundings, hands still searching with increasing desperation. Brian hesitated, then tried again. "Talon, I don't understand why you sent Aileen with the scouts. It's dangerous, and—"

Talon stopped abruptly, his body trembling slightly. "Help me find it, Brian," searching around the room, lifting papers and cushions with hurried movements. "It's a necklace. I must have dropped it somewhere."

Brian's eyes widened in slight surprise. He rushed over to the chief’s side and joined the search, their silent cooperation punctuated only by the rustling of parchment and the soft clinks of metal and stone as they moved objects aside.

"Chief," Brian said, his voice softer now as he picked up a stack of old scrolls, "I need to know why she's out there. The threats we're facing are deadly. They are not for the inexperienced."

"How are you holding up, Brian?" Talon asked abruptly, his tone sharp. He moved to another corner, his eyes scanning the ground. "Is your chest still bothering you? Is it acting up again?"

Brian sighed inwardly. "No, the herbalist was good," he said, lifting another cushion and peering underneath. "But Talon, Aileen—"

"You've always been the best guard," Talon cut in again, shifting a pile of furs. "Are you finding the Nightshroud’s movements as challenging to track as everyone says? Perhaps you should return?"

"Talon," Brian said softly, pausing in his search to look at the chief but was met with his back. "I understand that this is important to you. But Aileen is important too, sending her with us... it's a risk. She's strong, but she's also young, inexperienced. We can't afford to lose her, not now."

Talon's hands stilled for a moment, his back to Brian. The silence in the room deepened, and Brian could almost hear the chief's inner turmoil. Finally, Talon turned around, his expression a mixture of pain, anger, and a very little hidden emotion Brian knew very well, guilt.

"Brian," he began, his voice low and strained, "sometimes we have to make difficult decisions. Aileen needs to be there. She needs experience and she has to prove herself. To the tribe, to herself... and to her."

Talon continued, his voice wavering slightly. "I can't... I can't do what needs to be done with her. The tribe needs her, and she is... she is all that is left of her."

They continued their search in silence. Brian knew nothing was going to change Talon’s mind. As Brian lifted a pile of old scrolls, he finally spotted a glint of metal beneath them. He reached down and pulled out the delicate necklace, its simple charm catching the torchlight. He held it up, showing it to Talon.

The chief’s eyes softened as he reached out to take the necklace, his fingers trembling slightly. "Thank you, Brian," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. He wore the necklace around his wrist, cradling it like it was delicate, fragile glass, kissing it every few seconds.

Brian nodded, watching as Talon kissed the necklace on his wrist. The room fell into a heavy silence once more. With the necklace found and Brian not getting any answer, he left the tent.

As Brian left the tent, the night air was cool against his fur, but still warmer than other nights. He looked up to the sky; it was filled with stars, but the misty forest was covered in thick fog with the fire raging, illuminating the night. He clenched his fists, the memories of Fionnuala's death surfacing. "I promised to protect her, to keep her safe. I will not betray that promise."

He walked slowly to his home, trying to calm his mind, enjoying the dead silence of the night. The streets were dark, with no light or lamps found, only illuminated by the torch in his hand. By now, every vulpine was asleep, dreaming of a better tomorrow, dreaming of a god that would protect them.

‘How easy it would have been if we had a god to protect us.’

He reached his home, put out the torch, and walked in, immediately lighting the oil lamps by his bedside. His hands were trembling, breathing heavily, then his whole body shuddering slightly, and he dropped on the bed. Throughout the night, Brian tossed around the bed, sweat trickling down his body, drenching the sheets of his bed, his face changing every second from fear to anger to determination to sorrow to guilt and other myriad emotions flashing.

This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

Brian abruptly woke up, sitting on the bed, slight warm air and light coming from the oil lamp casting half of his face with one eye in light and the other, scarred eye in shadow. A screeching noise came from his window. There was a big frown on his face. The moonlight almost disappeared to the horizon to be replaced by the light of the sun. Dawn was coming. But Brian didn’t stir even a little from his bed, staring at the wall of his house, the cracks that were spreading, like a statue, only the rising and falling of his chest suggesting he was not. His one brown eye was wide open without blinking even when the dust blew over his eye.

After staying like that for a long time, Brian got up, his clothes from yesterday still on. He poured some water on his face from the wooden bucket in another room, looked at the silver mirror on the wall, and tried to calm his heavy breath and body.

He started to walk leisurely to the west gate, the one that led to the misty forest, the meeting point of Aileen and the other scouts who needed to investigate the fire. The sun was starting to rise, its red edges peeking and casting his long shadow in front of him.

He saw Aileen and three other scouts waiting for him at the gate.

“You look like shit, captain,” said one of the scouts, a young Vulpine with auburn fur and white fur from the lower mandible to his stomach, black fur coming out of his brown leather gloves.

Brian’s long ears erected as soon as they heard the comment. He turned to Aileen, “You don’t look like you had much sleep.”

“Yes, most nights are harder to sleep, especially last night.”

Brian nodded. “Have you started to get to know each other?”

“No, we just got here a few minutes ago,” answered Aileen.

“Well,” he pointed to the one who commented before, “he is Alan. But you can just call him Sparker.”

Aileen turned to look at him, and he blinked his slit, amber eyes like an innocent child.

“This is Garret. You can call him Flick,” he had a slightly darker shade of red on his fur than Alan, didn’t have black fur on his wrists, and his eyes were slit, with a yellowish-brown hue.

“This one is called Raheem. You can call him Sable,” he was similar to Garret except he had a longer tail with a black tip and black fur circling his eyes.

“Everyone knows her, but she is Luminary Aileen.”

They all turned to look at her. She felt uncomfortable with their eyes focused on her. Her blue eyes seemed calm, but they shifted from left to right, looking like they were trying to capture everything at once.

The sun climbed higher, casting long shadows that stretched ahead of the small group as they approached the edge of the misty forest.

They reached the edge of the forest and paused. Brian turned to face the group, his expression grim. “Gear up,” he said, his voice steady but low. “We go in prepared for anything.”

The group moved to a small clearing where their weapons were stored. Brian picked up his long spear, feeling the familiar weight in his hands. He checked the blade, ensuring it was sharp and ready. Aileen strapped on her short sword. Alan slung his bow over his shoulder, checking his arrows one last time. Garret and Raheem both took up their swords, the blades gleaming in the morning light.

Each of them donned their gas masks, the ancient designs fitting snugly over their faces. The masks were made of bronze and leather, with intricate filigree work around the eye slits, giving them a hauntingly beautiful yet eerie appearance. The eye slits narrowed their vision but offered protection, and the faint scent of metal filled their noses.

The morning fog still lingered, curling around the trees like ghostly tendrils, giving the air a dense, suffocating feel. Brian walked at the front, his steps deliberate and steady. Behind him, Aileen, Alan, Garret, and Raheem followed, each lost in their own thoughts.

Brian’s mind was a tumult of worries and memories. The weight of his promise to Fionnuala pressed heavily on his chest. His eyes flicked to Aileen occasionally, seeing not just a young Vulpine but the daughter of the woman he had vowed to protect. He clenched his jaw, pushing down the guilt and fear that threatened to overwhelm him. Every step closer to the forest was a reminder of the danger she faced and the risk he had to manage.

Aileen walked just behind Brian, her blue eyes scanning the trees ahead, trying to pierce the veil of mist. She could feel the tension in Brian’s movements, the way his shoulders were set, and it made her uneasy. Her thoughts drifted to her father, Chief Talon, and then to the weight of her mother's legacy bore down on her, mingling with her own determination and fear.

Alan, with his mischievous amber eyes, flicked a glance at Aileen now and then, trying to gauge her mood. He adjusted the strap of his quiver, his fingers brushing over the fletching of his arrows. Despite the gravity of their mission, he couldn’t help but feel a thrill of excitement. The forest was full of dangers, and he thrived on the adrenaline of it all.

Garret was more reserved, his thoughts methodical and precise. He adjusted his gas mask, the leather straps creaking slightly. The mask was made of bronze with intricate filigree work around the eye slits, giving it a hauntingly beautiful yet eerie appearance. His mind was already strategizing, thinking about the best paths to take and how to navigate the treacherous terrain.

Raheem brought up the rear, his long tail flicking nervously. He fiddled with his own gas mask, similar in design to Garret's, with a metal nose piece that gave it a slightly sinister look. The forest held too many memories for him—too many times he had seen friends enter and not return. His eyes, circled in black fur, darted from tree to tree, his ears twitching at every sound. He trusted Brian, but he couldn’t shake the feeling of dread that settled in his gut.

Brian looked over his team, each masked and armed. He took a deep breath, the air filtered through the mask and turned towards the forest. The mist hung heavy, obscuring the path ahead.

“Stay close,” he said, his voice muffled but firm. “We move together.”

They stepped forward, the edge of the forest looming like a dark, foreboding wall. The silence of the group was palpable, each member wrapped in their own thoughts, fears, and hopes. The mist seemed to breathe around them, a living entity waiting to engulf them.

Brian took the first step into the fog, the others following close behind. The forest seemed to swallow them whole, the mist closing in around their forms.