Lomi was already on her third plate, and I was glad that most humans barely took notice of their surroundings let alone something like how much one could eat.

After all, there was no way a young girl could eat more than several grown men. Not normally, at least.

“The river's already frozen over,” a man said behind me. Their table was packed full, and noisy. Most of it was just common chatter, but it was good to hear what troubled this town's fishermen.

Sometimes their commonplace complaints were the best things to hear. It meant nothing weird was going on, nothing was out of place.

To the right of the table of fishermen, was a small family. A pair of parents and an older girl. They were complaining about the man trying to court her. They didn't like him.

Across from them was a table of three men. They were quiet, but no one seemed bother by them. People knew who they were, at least.

We sat at a corner table, which I was glad we had done. When we had first entered, there had been no one else here. It was now packed.

The only two empty chairs in the whole building were next to me, at our table.

Luckily no one had tried to sit down with us.

“Heard the mountain pass is already overtaken. No more merchants from Ruvindale,” a man complained loudly. The snow had lessened here, in the plains, but the mountains were still getting buffeted.

“No more trinkets for the wives!” a man from another table happily agreed, others laughed.

Men were starting to get drunk, and the building was steadily growing louder. People had to shout for the barkeep to send his children out with extra food and drink, instead of just raise their hand and wave.

“Trinkets?” Lomi asked, and I noticed the way her hat shuffled a little. No one else would have noticed, so I said nothing.

I shrugged at her and watched her scan past me. She sat across from me, with her back to the wall. It allowed her to see the whole bar.

I had her sit there so no one would accidentally brush up against her and knock off her hat.

“To another winter!” a woman raised her cup, and for a brief moment the tables grew silent as everyone else joined in a toast.

Lomi likewise raised her cup, even though she seemed to do it just out of instinct. She saw everyone else doing it, so joined them.

After a few moments the place got noisy again, conversations returning.

“Where are we going next, Vim?” Lomi asked, staring into her cup. I could hear the liquid within still sloshing around, so knew it wasn't because it was empty.

“There are two more stops before yours. First is a large lake, then a dark forest,” I said.

Lomi absorbed this information, tapping her cup. “Are they far away?” she asked.

“Not really. The lake is about a week from here. Give or take, based on the weather,” I said.

Usually the weather didn't affect my speed, but she was a little too young to trek through blizzards and storms. We might end up staying a few days here and there along the way, at random inns and villages.

“Oh...” she went quiet, and I wondered if she was upset that we were still so far from her next home.

Or maybe she thought we were too close?

We'd already been on the road for two weeks...

Maybe I should have stayed longer at Elk's place. She had enjoyed playing with his children.

But I needed to get her to somewhere safe. Every day on the road like this was dangerous for her. I'd protect her, yes, from anything... but...

“Where do you live Vim?” Lomi then asked. She had done so quietly, probably worried others would hear... but I didn't worry about it. The tables around us were either deep in conversation, or drunk. Even the quiet men nearby had started to get into a heated discussion.

“Nowhere. I travel too much,” I said.

“Oh... to check on everyone,” she said, understanding.

I nodded.

Lomi shifted in her seat, and I wondered if she was done. There was still a plate of food before her, but she had only taken a few bites of it. Maybe seven plates had been enough.

“Why... why were you late?” Lomi then asked.

Although I had expected such a question to come, it still hurt.

“I actually hadn't been. I was several weeks early in coming to your village, Lomi. The timing was...” I said gently.

For a moment she glared at me, and I knew it was because she had originally interpreted my words as a sad excuse... but her gaze softened after a moment.

“Did you know?” she then asked.

“No. I smelled the fires as I approached,” I said. It was the truth. I had broken out into a run the moment I had noticed the odd level of stink in the air. I had ran for a whole day.

“Hm...” she went quiet, and once again went to staring at the inside of her cup. As if it was full of wonder.

Staring at the young fox, I knew there was not much I could say. No apology could be given. No promise could be made.

I knew she didn't truly blame me for failing her and her people... but I also knew at the same time, she always would.

Such was the consequences of being the protector of so many people. Such was the inevitability. Failure was not a question of if, but when.

“How long does it take you? To go to each place?” She then asked.

Such a question was normal, but at this current moment... not. It told me she was trying to understand, not just the how but the why.

“Nearly a decade,” I said gently.

Lomi looked up over her cup, and stared deep into my eyes. They were glistening a little, and I hoped she didn't start bawling. Although we could pass as father and daughter, it'd be weird if it happened here. Who knows what the people around us would think.

“You normally don't find out until later, huh,” she then said.

I nodded softly, and wondered how a child came to such a conclusion.

“Why... why don't we all live together then? So you can always be there?” she asked, a little angrily.

“Why indeed?” I asked back.

Lomi fumed as she took a drink.

Smiling at her, I kept the real reasons inside. After all a young child wouldn't understand.

Or maybe she would. Sometimes such tragic events matured people, far past their years.

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“Any more food, folks?” the young daughter of the barkeep asked us as she rounded a nearby table.

I glanced at Lomi, who shook her head quickly.

“Nope, think we're done. Thank you,” I said.

She didn't even nod, and went to the next table quickly. Taking more orders, I wondered how much money this place made a day.

There had to be nearly fifty people here. Not bad for a small village on a little river.

I knew there were a few other places to get food here, but this place had been right across from our inn. Quick and easy.

“Do it again!” a man shouted, and several dozen laughs made the place loud. Louder than it had been.

“Are all places this noisy?” Lomi asked, as the room became even louder. Someone had done something stupid.

More alcohol was flowing.

“Actually yes. Usually. Especially once they start drinking,” I said.

“It's annoying,” she complained.

I knew to her ears, it was probably more than just annoying. Maybe even painful.

“But makes it easy for people like us,” I said to her.

She nodded, but grumbled all the same.

Resting my head on a closed fist, I watched Lomi glare at something over my shoulder. Maybe the table behind us. She slowly picked at a piece of food on her plate, as she watched whatever had caught her attention.

This was undoubtedly the first time she's ever been to a real human settlement. Her parents might have taken her to a nearby village once or twice, but had probably not allowed her to mingle like this.

They were, after all, skittish people.

Which might have been why they had been found and hunted down.

Lomi quietly chewed on what was now probably a cold piece of meat, and I wondered how I could start to convince those like her to...

To what?

Become more human?

It made sense to me. If you were like them, you'd not be hunted. At least, to a point.

How could I do it? So many of them hated humans. Despised them. Ran from them, in terror.

It was impossible.

I sighed, and knew it was something I was going to have to actually think about. It was my job to protect them, and doing what I could to prevent future atrocities was also a way of protection.

Times were getting harder. Humans ventured out of their hometowns more and more. Roads were being built. Ships sailed not just seas but rivers and lakes.

The world was shrinking, and not in a good way.

There were a few who lived in human settlements. The painter did. To the south a beaver not only lived in a large village, but actually ran it. Ruled it.

Yet they were seen as the odd ones out. They were the outcasts, the strange ones.

“Say that again!” a man shouted, and I recognized the anger in the slurring raised voice.

I didn't worry over it, nor the sound of a chair falling over as another stood, because it came from the other side of the building. Near the bar itself.

Lomi though went still, her back going straight and her ears perking up beneath her hat.

Waving her down, to tell her it was fine, I wondered if I should ask the painter when I see him. He was on our path, after all.

Maybe it was time I actually started the process. Even if it took decades. Even if it cost lives.

After all, lives were lost anyway. Naturally. Always.

Living all together was impossible... but if I could convince enough of them to adapt, more than they did now... maybe they'd live longer. Last longer.

Maybe I wouldn't lose a whole village, ever again.

I still needed to find the bishop who had done the deed. Or at least, ordered it.

Needed Lomi safe and away from harm, before I could, but I was going to have to come back here eventually...

That was another problem. One even harder to address than how to protect my people.

Even if I killed the bishop, and all those who participated... what would it accomplish?

By the time I found them, most would be too old to do it again anyway. Then their children would just seek revenge. Their family. Their neighbors.

Destroy one human, ten more took their place.

Destroy a single human town, and a whole nation arose from its ashes.

Yet you destroy a single one of our villages, and it quite nearly makes a whole race extinct.

How many foxes were left?

Watching Lomi push her now nearly empty plate away, I knew the truth.

Her race was gone.

The family I was taking her to, who had chose to stay with their friends instead of moving to Lomi's village was just that. A single family.

There might be a few more families out there, which I didn't know of. That no one knew of... but the odds of them surviving much longer...

The odds of them finding each other...

That family had only daughters as well. No sons.

Which meant...

Rubbing my forehead, I hated the honest truth.

Because I had been too late, a whole line of peoples were now gone. Forever lost.

Lomi, or the others, could... have children with others. Humans even. But in most cases, the offspring of our kind didn't carry on the traits. Out of all the halves I knew, only a few had ever been like their non-human parent. And their children had never been.

Mating with a human was the same as dying off.

Though... maybe that was the point.

Maybe that was what was destined to be.

For everyone to be human.

How ironic.

“Vim, can we go?” Lomi asked.

Glancing at her, I realized I had been somewhat lost in thought.

“Ready?” I asked her. I knew she was now full, but I had expected her to want to sit here for some time. To stare and watch the people. The humans. Even though... timid, it was something many of our kind did. We hated them, yet were entranced by them.

“Uh...” she hesitated, and I noticed the way her eyes looked.

Fear.

Fear?

Turning a little, to stare behind me, I expected to find something wrong. Maybe a crowd of armed men.

Instead, I simply found a common scene.

A bar fight.

It wasn't directly near us, but several tables and chairs had been pushed aside, or over, as a group of men fought amongst themselves.

“Hm,” I realized what was wrong. Lomi wanted to leave, because of this.

“Break his legs!” one of the men who had been sitting silently near us shouted. Seems they were talkative now.

“He's biting him!” another man shouted, laughing as he spilled his drink.

I studied the fight for a moment, and realized very quickly that it was just that. A simple fight. None of the men were actually trying to kill one another. Several of them were already rolling on the ground, out of breath and stamina.

Too drunk to do anything else but cause a disturbance.

“Let's go then,” I said to Lomi. Although I knew it'd not take long for the fight to die down, and some semblance of peace and quiet would return, there was no point to force the poor girl that far outside her comfort zone.

I quickly emptied what was left in my cup, which hadn't been much, and went to guide Lomi out of the bar.

With a steady hand I guided her around the crowd that had formed to watch the fight... and thanks to the commotion, no one noticed us as we left.

“Are they always so violent?” Lomi asked once we were outside.

Taking a nice deep breath of clean winter air, I shrugged. “Sometimes,” I said.

I knew what she had really meant. To her that was almost outlandish. Such a brawl was something she had, before her village had been raided, been something she's never known could happen.

Our kind rarely, if ever, actually fought after all.

Lomi stepped closer to me as we headed for our inn. It wasn't that late, but it was dark enough that there was no point doing anything else.

She glanced behind us, most likely to look at the building we had just left, and I wondered if such a moment had hardened her hate for humans, or lessened it.

Usually I would try to teach her to... learn and accept, such things... but I knew there was no point for her.

She had just watched her whole world get ravaged and destroyed by humans.

She'd not understand, nor care to, anytime soon. If ever again.

But I couldn't blame her for that.

“Did you not notice, Vim?” she then asked.

“Notice what?”

“The churchmen,” she said plainly.

Pausing, I realized something horrible.

Her look of fear hadn't been because of the fight at all.

“Back there?” I asked, turning around.

“Hm,” she nodded, unsure of what to say.

Studying the bar, I noticed the shadows dancing in the lights that emerged from the windows and door. The place was still lively; maybe the fight was still going on.

“How did you know?” I asked.

“They had the same thing on their hats,” she said, pointing at her own hat.

A symbol? A pin? Maybe a cross of some kind?

I hadn't noticed.

“Come on,” I said, patting her back.

Taking her to the inn, I made sure she fell asleep before I went to find them.