As the old saying went, "Never be fooled by appearances". And in the case of the teenage red fox, that fact was more apparent than ever.

No matter how many he dodged, it seemed there was always a piece of rock rushing towards him. Or a pillar. Or slab of stone that had been dragged through the ground and made into a makeshift battering ram. His chains snaked around the rising attack, pulling him up to climb atop it. But the fox seemed to anticipate that, appearing in front of him with the speed of a cheetah and knocking him backwards with a kick.

Sickle buried into dirt to stop his momentum. The fox. Just who was she? She landed on the ground, knocking her fists together at the ready.

"Direct hit," she smiled proudly.

Despite her age, she fought with such ferocity. Like a furry bulldozer. A few legionnaires attempted to interrupt our bout, but she turned them into powder without taking her eyes off him. It was so...invigorating. That look in her eyes. Was she an anomaly? A prodigy? She came swinging again, forcing him on the defensive with every strike. Even with her terraforming abilities, the wolf's hand-to-hand skills were nothing to dismiss. In fact, they seemed her most dangerous asset.

When she connected another hit, he felt his body ringing from the impact. Like his very soul had been assaulted by her signals.

“Fantastic,” he said. “Little fox, please tell me! What is your name?”

He dodged backwards, using the monument as cover. She knocked right through it, sending both him and the statue careening downwards, crown and all.

“Cecil the Fox,” she called. “And I’m gonna pound your face into mush.”

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

He leapt free of the debris, letting it crash into a heap while he went on the offensive. Compared to Reginald, he'd been doing much worse in combat.

While he could barely touch the fox, his second had the wolf hiding behind barriers at every opportunity. She occasionally tried to disappear but every time she moved to attack, the man would turn and slice right through her as she rematerialized. A poor matchup, to be sure. His second had the eyes of a hawk and the ears of a feline. Of which he'd put to great use dismantling any foe foolhardy enough to attack the Light Binder directly.

But even he couldn't write off the white wolf so easily. She'd taken more than a few of Reginald's slashes and yet somehow managed to stay on her feet. Even cutting him back a few times in return.

“Gotcha!”

He came out of his thoughts as the fox he'd been pressing seemed to spot a brief opening.

He'd baited it out of curiosity. The fox was strong, but was she adaptable? He deflected the punch, grabbing her arm in the process.

But it was the second attack of spiked rocks that broke the hold completely.

He stumbled backwards, his lip split from the attack. A small but noticeable cut. He smiled. How long had it been since someone managed to draw his blood?

Perhaps she really was an anomaly. He needed to see how far she could go. Even if the effort might...No. He could see it in her eyes. She could take it. She would.

He let the chains of his sickle rattle as the fox came swinging again. But the Light Binder didn't bother to move. Not to block. Or dodge. Or even to parry again. He took up position, waiting patiently for that familiar feeling. For the fox to raise her fist to him. For that familiar feeling. Rings collided with his cheek, the sweet sensation of signals flowing through him.

Moments before he carved clean through the fox's chest.

Whoops. Too much power.

He stepped back, frowning at the damage.

"Sorry. Thought you'd be a bit less fragile."

The fox's only response was a small gasp.