The day went by slower than Mao would have liked it to after his meeting with Rinrin. His plan to nap and laze the day away had become an impossible idea after the promises he and the other fox had made to meet again at night. A hunt! How exciting. Wasn’t that a date? Their runs through the city and the Farmlands had been thrill and excitement enough to make Mao giddy whenever he remembered it.

A hunt would be twice that. A shared goal that would, if luck had it, end up in a shared meal in some cozy place. Perhaps on a rooftop, overlooking the lantern lit streets below and some bustling night market. Curling up under the cold starry sky, finding warmth from each others’ coats and the steam rising from food stalls and busy chimneys.

Or would it be a frenzied hunt, full of challenge and intrigue. A play fight for their catch perhaps, a test of strength and agility that would see them tumbling over each other, nipping and clawing for a victory that would woo the other.

Perhaps they would challenge good morals and take a go at a chicken coop. Sneak past guard dogs and noisy rosters. Dig their way beneath the fences, try to snag a catch before they woke the rest and all hell broke loose. Flee into the night with fresh blood on their muzzles and hearts fluttering with fear and pride over getting away with their mischief.

So many possibilities. It was enough to cloud one’s mind with hopes and desires. Distraction of the sweetest kind. A well oiled trap that sprung just before dusk.

Mao had set out early after watching the sun sink at its painfully slow pace for the past couple of hours. Josei had noticed something being up - mostly because the basket meant to be full of herbs after Mao’s return from the Foot had held naught but bruised scraps. Turns out that getting pounced on and tumbling about for a bit wasn’t good for wicker and brittle plants.

Not that she minded it much, not with her son sitting by the window, head in the clouds and a dreamy smile on his face. Oh yes, something was up for sure and she would not be getting in the way of that. She had nothing but support for this spring fling. It was about time Mao brought someone home that she could fuss over with questions and tea and embarrassing tales of Mao’s rowdy childhood. How fast they grew up.

Josei wasn’t the one to set the trap though, nor did she suspect any risk worse than a broken heart from tonight’s adventure. She saw her son off with a wave, a hug, and some reminders of proper safety and care that made the young man blush and fluster. Off he went.

The sun had only just begun its descent, but it was far enough for Mao to justify setting out. He might have to wait for a bit - or search for the other fox if they were late. Nothing he minded enough to dull his excitement.

Mask humming with magic, the medicine maker leapt of the street’s edge and fell, coat changing from spun wool to rich black fur. He let gravity carry him down the steep inclines of Redlog’s upper streets, taking him from foothold to foothold, be they groves in the mountainside, branches grown long by years of sun and rain, or the clinking tiles of red rooftops.

It was a dangerous drop for anyone without a Wild One’s agility, and even then it was a daring thing to do. Mao had grown bolder by his runs with Rinrin. Inspired to reach further, press himself harder, truly see and find out how far he could go. Why hold anything back when you could leap like a fox?

Air rushed past his ears and whiskers as his fall evened out in a slow curve, claws scraping against old stone bricks to bring him level with the ground. Wasting as little of his momentum as he could, Mao took off down a street, feeling as fast and confident as the wind.

Then something even faster shot out of a shadow at the base of a chimney and the fox found himself caught.

A rush of conflicting sensations turned the world into a confusing swirl of rushing scales and grabbing hands. For a moment his surroundings squeezed in around him, cold hide crushing his fur flat against his skin-

The next moment he felt his back slam against a rough brick wall, a cold pair of hands around the collar of his shirt. Yellow orbs cut by narrow slits - pupils stared at him with a suspicion bordering on accusation. Mao wheezed, feeling the pressure around his throat team up with his surprise to prevent enough air from entering his lungs. He managed a kick by reflex, but the leg it met felt like coiled steel. Gin didn’t move a muscle. Instead he bared his fangs.

A narrow, cloven tongue darted out to taste the air right in front of Mao’s face. The sight of it made the fox- no, the young man, freeze. When had he shifted back? Some time during the tackle, but it hadn’t been his choice to change form. It had felt as if the snake pulled him out of his shape, human body drawn out of the fox mask.

The bartender hissed, then of all the things Mao feared he would do - let go.

“Wrong smell, but you did meet the killer. Who is it? Where are they?”

Mao pressed himself flat against the wall when Gin took an angry step closer, eyes burning with restless ire.

“Killer? What-” Mao croaked, throat protesting painfully against speaking.

“The one that’s eating people’s hearts.” The snake responded. “It’s a fox. Where are they?” His face was calm, expression flat except for the anger in his eyes. Or was that impatience? He seemed almost in a hurry.

“I don’t know wh-” The fox tried, but Gin’s patience snapped, audibly. Twang.

Wait…

The twang and snap of a bowstring hung in the air longer than it took for Gin to spin around, but it was with a stumbling stretch of a movement rather than the near too fast to see twists of earlier. The shaft of a crossbow bolt stuck out of Gin’s lower leg and the snake’s balance jerked. He stumbled, sunk when he attempted to put weight on the leg. Mao’s ears caught the soft click of another bolt being loaded somewhere. The spring was so well oiled that even he struggled to catch it before he knew it was there.

Gin’s skin broke as if dry, but the cracks kept growing. Skin rose into white patches, scales rising like hackles as the Wild bartender prepared to change shape. He nearly lunged when someone dropped from a roof, nearly, because the second crossbow bolt cut across his face from the side, nearly taking him through the ridge of his nose.

It missed him by a hair because the snake jerked back, eyes wild and teeth a glistening row of needle-like danger. It bought the Hunter enough time to land and raise his hands. A gesture to hold, to hear him out. It wasn’t a request but a demand.

“We got you both surrounded.” Ulven Jägare slowly straightened up, hands still up and eyes promising violence if anyone moved. “Lunge again and we’ll send you back to Riarin full of holes.”

The old Hunter’s face was grim, set with a determination that could make even a coiled snake pause. Gin was clearly tempted to test that threat, but as more Hunters revealed themselves on high perches to dissuade him, the snake relaxed.

What the Hunters did to reveal themselves were subtle things. They knew their quarry had senses leagues above your average human. All they needed was a shift to make cloth rustle, deliberate slips to make their loaded crossbows creak or click. Little signs to alert someone with supernatural hearing. Nothing that would compromise how ready they were to fill their targets full of bolts though.

Gin kept perfectly still. He didn’t breathe, didn’t shift, not a single muscle betrayed his mimicry of a statue. Like a snake backed into a corner, ready to die with its fangs sunk into someone’s veins where its venom would avenge its demise.

Mao shook like the base of a boiling tea kettle. The tense postures of every Hunter he could spot - and he could hear ones he couldn’t spot. They were in a secluded spot of Redlog, a backstreet that saw little use during the day, and even less during the night. Most of the houses lining either sides of the road had their backs turned towards it, with only a few backdoors to grant proper access. If the Hunters decided to kill Mao and Gin, there wouldn’t be anyone to see it.

Ulven continued before the snake could conclude which act of violence would be most likely to let him get away from here.

“You have a habit of escaping the moment you sense danger, and I can’t take any more chances at this point. I know these kills weren’t yours, Gin. You don’t leave bodies behind.”

The snake listened without moving. Mao envied his composure because he himself wanted nothing more than to sink through the ground, but he’d be dead if he tried that. Some of the crossbows were aimed at him.

“Then why corner me like this?”

Mao jumped as Gin spoke. It came so suddenly, as if he didn’t need to inhale to expel words, nor move his jaws. He just opened them, spoke in a way that some Wild Ones did in their true shapes. Words spilled from the mouth of a beast. To see it done in a mostly human form was… off putting, to say the least.

“Because clearly,” Ulven turned his gaze to Mao and the fox froze. “You know who did it.”

What?

Mao’s body turned cold with fear. The Hunters thought he was the killer? To his surprise- and immense relief, Gin scoffed and shot the accusation down.

“I know it wasn’t this one.” Gin made a clear gesture of hutting a nod back at Mao, never breaking eye contact with Ulven.

The old Hunter didn’t seem convinced though. Mao’s chest clenched with betrayal. Why didn’t they trust him? Hadn’t he proved himself to at least be a good person, if not a Hunter candidate? Neither Ulven nor Gin paid his pain any attention. They were locked on each other, old foes.

“How are you so sure?” It was an honest question from the Hunter, for all that Ulven seemed disbelieving.

“The scent is different,” was Gin’s simple reply.

“We have noses too you know-” Ulven bared his teeth, irritation slipping through his calm composure.

“Mine is better,” Gin cut Ulven off and the Hunter stiffened.

Silence pressed on Mao’s lungs like a weight for several long seconds before either spoke again. It was Gin that continued the argument. An unexpected ally.

“Both Riarin Ros and Watch Captain Robina Ek have agreed to let me handle this.”

At Gin’s words Ulven’s stance relaxed from ‘i’m going to kill you’ to ‘I might still shoot you but I’ll hear you out first.’

“I would let you do as you please if the victims were taken from the Red Light District, but these kills are far from your territory.”

Ulven must have had some respect for the Watch and Red Light leader, yet clearly he wasn’t going to let their authority alone send him away. The Hunters’ Guild fought for Redlog, not those who lead it.

This time it was Gin that let his battle-ready stance relax, and he did so in a much more confident way than Ulven. Where the Hunter leaned back, let his shoulders sink, yet stayed ready to leap right back into the action, Gin rose chest and chin and looked down on the target of his ire. Confidence bordering on arrogance, but it worked. Mao froze as he heard several clicks of tense crossbows rising, all wary of the snake’s calm posturing.

“All of Redlog is my territory,” Gin said.

“That’s not our deal,” Ulven argued right away. “You get the Red Light District. We’ve trusted you to hunt down intruders so far, but we won’t let one run free just because you didn’t catch it.”

Gin’s eyes narrowed and the fox was starting to feel wildly out of place. Mao felt a burning urge to ask ‘Am I in this case?’ but kept his mouth shut. He wasn’t quite sure of his role in this and clearly, neither was Ulven, or Mao would be dead by now. The Hunters didn’t hesitate if they knew you were guilty.

“This killer knows to avoid me,” The bartender started. “Or so it seems. Does Josei’s kid look like someone that’s avoiding me right now?”

Gin moved a step backwards to stand right next to Mao - and before Mao could flinch or run away from his sudden place in the spotlight, put a hand on the back of his neck in what might have seemed like a friendly gesture had it been done by anyone else. His grip was cool, firm, his skin oddly smooth. Mao felt as if his spine was trying to wriggle out of his body and out of that grip.

Ulven gave them both an unconvinced glare. “You cornered him. Why bother doing that if he’s not the killer? You’re hardly the social kind.”

At that Gin actually laughed. It was a short but oddly warm sound, a crack in the cold mask that hinted at a far more easy going person hiding beneath. Perhaps in another setting his character changed. It didn’t belong here though, not in a dark street surrounded by armed Hunters, and so Gin smothered it back down with an arrogant show of teeth. A taunting grin.

“I wouldn’t be a bartender if I hated people. You should swing by sometime. You’ll see.”

It almost sounded like an old taunt. Ulven hesitated, familiar with the words and as mystified by their true intentions - if there was a hidden agenda at all, which surely…

The Hunter spoke suspiciously, “I thought I was banned.”

Gin shrugged. “By Riarin, not me. I don’t keep grudges.”

Was this a distraction? Did Gin stall for time? His straight and barely bothered expression was impossible to read past what he wanted it to appear as. Yet for some reason Ulven indulged this stray turn in their conversation. Mao both wished that they would stop and just settle the murder accusations already so he could get out of here- and desperately wanted them to continue because the Hunters thought he was the one murdering people, so every second might be his last. Had more people died?

“I don’t believe for a second that you would sneak me past Riarin just for a pint at your bar.” Ulven’s suspicion remained, but it was distracted. A bit too fascinated to dismiss this unexpected topic.

Gin just smiled. A faint quirk of the lips. “Correct, but it’s polite to offer.”

Ah. And so this moment of temporary peace broke. The old Hunter shook his head with a growl.

“Enough posturing. We’ll bring Mao to the guild for questioning and you can continue your sniffing about.”

Mao felt his heart leap from chest to throat in a jolt of fear. Was that good? Could he talk his way out of this? He hadn’t done anything!

“I’ll come with.” The snake didn’t wait for permission. He just started walking and towed Mao along by the grip on his neck.

If Ulven had been walking he would have tripped over his own feet. Instead he just sort of jerked, surprised. Suspicion returned to his eyes, not that it had left for long.

“Why?”

Why indeed. Mao found himself giving Gin a look just as puzzled as the ones the other Hunters were giving the bartender from their hidden perches. Gin gave them a deadpan look.

“Because his mother is close with Riarin and you lot are awfully bitey at times.”

Not because ‘he’s innocent’, just because his mom knew Gin’s boss, huh? That seemed… Mao frowned.

Ulven looked like he was chewing on rocks. Gin’s eyes rolled to pin a Hunter to the side with a bright yellow stare. They raised the crossbow at once, tense as the spring that could send a bolt at its target in less than a second. Ulven ignored it. He growled again then turned with a wave for the rest of his pack to step down and follow.

“Fine. Come along but keep it quiet. Half the district will lose their cool if they hear their guardian entered the Hunters’ Guild surrounded by crossbows.”

Gin squeeze the back of Mao’s neck and pushed him to follow the guildmaster.

“Best to lower the crossbows then,” Gin quipped.

“Hah!” The guild master barked. “I don’t trust you enough for that, Gin. Just keep your heads down and come with me.”

Mao found himself accepting a cloak from one of the Hunters closing in to escort him and Gin through the darker streets of Redlog. The hood covered his head when he pulled it up as instructed, leaving him near impossible to identify from afar. This wasn’t how tonight was supposed to go.

—

Once they arrived at the guild the questions began for real. Gin refused to leave the room and Ulven clearly didn’t want to see who would win if it turned into violence inside his office, so he allowed the snake to stay.

Yet the bartender didn’t interrupt nor speak unless prompted to. He stood a silent vigil, mostly looking a tad bored. Mao felt as if he was sitting on pins and needles. Every answer felt like a death sentence, as if he somehow confirmed that he was guilty of it all.

Where had he been last night? The nights before that? Did he know this or that person? What did he think about the murders?

“...Gin said it’s a fox that’s eating hearts.”

The guildmaster’s pen froze against his notes at that. He fixed Mao with a stare that made the young man squirm in his admittedly very comfortable seat. It was well padded and soft from years of use.

“That’s correct,” Ulven looked wary, as if Mao knew something he shouldn’t. Mao didn’t know why that was significant but at this point he’d been through too much not to ask.

“Why?”

He felt like he should add something more to that question but didn’t quite know how to word it.

Why hearts? It made sense that they’d know it was a fox by now if they’d gone by scent. Worse yet, Mao had a sinking suspicion he knew who it was… Gin had said that they’d met and he only knew one other fox in Redlog - save for Riarin who had never accepted her mask.

Rinrin had invited him to hunt tonight…

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He didn’t say any of that. There was a slight chance that it had been someone else… Right? Mao knew it was unlikely, but it hurt to entertain the thought that his new friend might be a monster. A very charming monster.

Ulven considered Mao’s question for long enough to tell him that he knew why the fox was eating hearts, but his words made clear that he wouldn’t be telling Mao. Or at least not the true reasons.

“A wicked preference,” was the Headmaster’s answer.

It must have been obvious on Mao’s expression that he didn’t buy it, because the old Hunter sighed through his nose and sat up straighter.

“Don’t look into it. That way lays nothing but madness and pain. Ask Gin about it if you must know why a Wild One would be hunting humans.”

Mao gave the quiet snake a glance, and to Ulven’s wary irritation, Gin explained it then and there.

“Human flesh is addicting. It makes you stronger at the cost of your mind.”

It was as vague as could be, and thus almost worse than not knowing at all since it raised even more questions. Yet it was enough to make Ulven elaborate despite his reservations. The old Hunter didn’t want this young fox to grow curious for such paths.

“You remember the elves, Mao?”

He did. How could he ever forget. Ulven nodded at the young man’s tense expression.

“It’s a magic like theirs. You take or sacrifice something you shouldn’t have and reap strength from it. The cost is madness, pain, and a complete loss of morals.”

Ulven gave Gin a simmering glance at that last part, but the snake didn’t move a muscle.

“The elves see nothing but what they themselves want,” Ulven continued. “They care nothing for who they hurt, for the risk of others, or if what they do is something they could live with. They feel no guilt because they traded that feeling away.”

Ulven’s face was grim as he spoke. Mao remembered how the elves had celebrated stealing children away from the city.

“It’s not an immediate change. You can stop.” Gin added.

“Not everyone can. It shouldn’t be counted on.” Ulven gave him a glare, which Gin matched with a level stare devoid of emotion. A mask that betrayed nothing, except possibly a little bit of smugness.

“There are worse things to fall to,” the snake pushed.

“Worse things than eating people?” Ulven stood up at his desk, fury just barely held back by years of experience. Gin just lifted his chin.

“There are. Would you compare me to the elves, Ulven?”

Ulven ground his teeth, then slowly, with great effort, sat back down. “Yes and no. You’re a monster Gin, but one we tolerate because there’s a leash on you.”

Gin bared his teeth in an unfriendly smile.

“The elves have neither desire nor means of being leashed.” Ulven continued.

“Not all of them. One or two might decide they want to go back one day though.” Gin was not convinced.

Ulven scoffed at that and Gin frowned.

“It might happen. Not everyone is a lost cause.”

“Some things can’t be forgiven.” Ulven retorted.

“Not by you.”

“Enough of this.”

For on tense long moment all three stayed quiet. Not that Mao had taken any part in that last argument. Ulven and Gin acted like they had some history. Not the best kind, but well enough that they tolerated each other. Perhaps it was only due to suspicion. Keep your enemies close and all that.

Mao started to wonder if he should say something when the silence dragged on, but Ulven fixed him with a look as he opened his mouth. Mao shut it at once and the Hunter spoke.

"Go home, Mao. Your whereabouts during the murders doesn't line up with the killer’s. You're off the hook. For now."

Ulven's distrust cut deep.

Mao looked up to the man. He'd dreamed for years of joining the guild, of learning from the oldest and best of the Hunters. Now he doubted if they would even let him join their forest runs anymore.

Perhaps if he… no… unless?

An idea took seed as he was let out of the guild building. Gin stayed behind to argue about something and Ulven’s expression told most that a table was about to get thrown. Mao felt too torn up by being a prime suspect to care.

But maybe he had a way of earning their trust back. Their respect. He craved it more than anything else. His heroes were rejecting him but it wasn't beyond saving just yet.

Not if he could bring them the killer.

Mao’s head began to buzz with thoughts, desperate ideas of how to get back into the Hunters’ good graces. Then as he was thinking of how one might solve a murder case…

He froze in a narrow street. He should have told them. Right? Rinrin was nice but… but if he was killing people left and right, hunting them like…

Suddenly worried, Mao turned his head up to stare at the sky. It winked down at him through a sliver of distance between the tall rooftops. A purple sky with fading stars. Not quite dawn yet, but certainly towards the end of the night.

The stress of earlier came back like a tidal wave, washing over him with pins and needles and an urge to scream. Screaming would wake up far too many people and possibly draw the Hunters back to question why he was making a racket, so Mao broke into a run instead.

The shift felt strained as he willed it to come over him, as if Gin tearing him out of his animal form had left him bruised somehow. Pushing through the discomfort, the fox took off as fast as he could. His claws graced tens of cobblestones with each leap, then dozens, two dozens.

Stress drove him to run, burn off the excess energy, but another suspicion had wriggled its way into his thoughts like a little worm of fear.

Rinrin had invited him to hunt tonight. Rinrin was the killer. Did he want Mao to join him in feasting on people? Who would he go for?

Mao spun a turn around the corner of a building so fast that his paws slid beneath him. It took a heave that made his shoulders creak to not wipe out. He had to find him before he killed someone. Where would he go…?

The question slowed his leaping gait for just a moment, enough to rake his memory for who had died until now. Merchants, people rich enough or with a public standing that made their deaths an immediate outrage among the noisiest of Redlog's gossip circles. Rinrin had mentioned the need for a challenge and there was a pattern in the killer’s prey. The answer was clear when you considered that. As was what the red fox would likely be going for next.

Nobles.

He’d already taken one and there was an entire street of rich homes left to pick from. Noble Road wasn’t far.

Mao's claws ached as he dug them into the ground for friction. He turned towards the streets that sloped upwards, towards the Peak.

The Hunters' Guild wasn't too far from peak street and Noble Road lay just south of it a layer below.

It was a fair distance to run still, so Mao pushed his body to sacrifice no speed despite the steep stairs. Up and up and-

A flock of chickens woke with screeches that made some windows light up as Mao barreled through them. A rooster somewhere let out a warbling challenge to whoever had disturbed his ladies but Mao had no time for territorial birds. He kept running, zig zagging between upset hens until the ground turned into steep slopes marked by hedges.

Sturdy branches tore at his coat as he tried to leap through them. The dense marvels of daily pruning and generous fertilizing, courtesy of the chickens, were far more packed with branches than what a single fox could worm its way through. Mao bit and kicked, found himself nearly getting stuck, then fell through the last wall of small red leaves with a yip.

He took a tumble down the carefully cut grass, found his paws, then turned his fall into a rapidly accelerating dash. The next hedge he took with a leap rather than a charge. His body curled, muscles tensing like coils before his paws sprung him up.

For a single moment the fox felt as if he was flying. Here on the mountain’s peak, so far up even the tallest of the distant redwoods could do little more than scrape at the sky with their pointy crowns. Up here the sky ruled more than the ground. Mao found himself surrounded by the star dotted void, hanging in mid air at the peak of his arch.

Then gravity got a hold of him and the city beneath called him back towards it. He'd gone a lot higher than he expected. He could see the lower streets perfectly from this height. Messy rows of red roofs and streets either dark as the sky or lit by a few struggling lanterns lay furthest down. The street just beneath this drop looked far richer.

Noble Road had more lanterns than an evening market. Glass ones, not paper. Permanent fixtures to keep the richest part of Redlog lit all year round.

Each property was surrounded by some kind of wall. Manicured hedges in some cases, showing off vibrant gardens clad in their spring blooms. Others had high walls of pale stone or lacquered wood, ornate barriers to offer the vast homes within some measure of privacy.

Mao caught a flash of red slip through the gaps of a familiar fence. Wide pillars of treated spruce wood supporting a wall-less roof of red. Beneath it grew a hedge of red leaves, flanking a midst of tall rose bushes. The fox went past the hedges, through the rose garden and up to the main house itself.

Through a window Mao knew all too well the red fox went. He knew it because it was the one he’d squeezed through so often. A broken hinge that the family never got around to fixing. One would have feared for burglars and thieves using it if it wasn’t for the fact that it was on the top floor.

Joseph left it open for a different reason. A reason that was currently running because a different fox had gone through that broken window.

Feeling his heart trying to break through his ribcage and into his throat - a loud, hurried sound of alarm that thundered just behind his ears, Mao raced across the sidewalk opposite of house Lejon’s grounds. The mayor’s garden with it’s tall wall covered in grasping plants let the black fox scale it like always. He got up onto the gate with it’s slightly taller arch, then leapt for the roof on the opposite side of the street.

As he soared through the air, Mao could just barely make out a faint shimmer of light through the diamond patterned glass panes of Joseph’s window. Was his friend awake?

The shingles clinked in protest as he landed on them hard. One slid loose and nearly took the fox down with it onto the hard cobblestones far below. Scrambling for a grip that wouldn’t betray him, Mao just barely managed to keep himself from tumbling off the edge. He clawed his way up the incline towards the window, paws aching from his long run. He smelled iron. Had he pulled a claw? There was no time to check.

Mao burst through the gap left by the open window like an explosion of black fur and bared teeth. It made the red haired man straddling a sleeping Joseph’s lap jump in surprise.

Rinrin blinked, recognized the ragged fox, then smiled. He looked neither tense nor afraid. If anything Mao’s arrival seemed to cheer him up. His shoulders relaxed and he leaned back, eyes narrowing with his joyous smile.

“I thought you went without me,” There was a ghost of hurt in the red fox’s voice, but it quickly faded now that Mao was here. “I found your trail around this house and followed it. Thought you’d taken your pick already but here we are.”

Mao’s head hung low as he panted, hackles raised and legs trembling from his mad run. Rinrin’s words didn’t immediately make sense, and his lack of answer confused the red fox. Rinrin tilted his head.

“Are you just going to stand there? Ah- sorry, did I outrun you?” Before this, Mao would have found the way Rinrin’s eyes closed as he snickered cute. Now? Now the red fox was sitting over his friend, intending to eat his heart.

Rinrin’s snicker faded back into confusion as Mao, still wearing his Wild form, slowly padded towards him, head low, fur stood on end. Even for two young men who didn’t truly understand the body language of mundane foxes, this was a clear display of hostility.

“Why are you so angry? We can share. I only went ahead because you never turned up.” Rinrin’s confusion turned into a wary kind of tension. Mao crept closer.

“Look,” Rinrin sounded uncertain and a little bit irritated by now. “I know you got something about this noble. Your scent is all over him and this room. Am I stealing your prey? We can share, Mao. I thought you hadn’t eaten anyone before. Is this your first? Is that why you’re being so territorial?”

Rinrin continued fishing for reasons on why Mao was angry with him, all the while the black fox kept creeping closer, one trembling step at a time.

Joseph had a large room. Josei’s entire shop could fit inside it. His bed sat on one end, with the window Mao had gone through on the opposite end of it. He passed by the nook where Joseph’s desk and notes sat, piles upon piles of hastily written theories, sketches, and books marked by colorful bookmarks.

The black fox let his form change as he closed the last of the distance, feeling his face ache as a fading instinct tried to pull his lips back over his teeth into a snarl. Rinrin shifted his position so he was facing Mao fully, putting the sleeping Joseph at his back.

Mao felt a bit calmer now after having had a moment to catch his breath. It was a different kind of panting that wracked his lungs now. A deep, possessive anger. Fear for his friend. Was he really asleep? Through all of this?

The change brought Mao’s point of vision up from the floor, high enough to see past the bed frame properly. Joseph’s eyes were open, just barely. A dreamy eyed crack of the eyelids that saw nothing but a haze. He looked happy, caught up in some spell. Mao saw Rinrin’s tail curled up behind the noble’s head, idly stroking the tip across the blond man’s cheek. The same tail that had dazed Mao when Rinrin wanted to show off what it did in the forest.

This close, Rinrin’s confidence broke. The other fox’s hair rose like fur. His body grew tense and ready to spring. There was a sharpness to the way his lips parted to show teeth as he spoke. Wary but still confused. Trusting.

“Say something.”

“Get off.” Mao’s voice trembled as he said it. Rinrin frowned. He didn’t move.

“What’s your problem? You didn’t turn up. I’m the one that should be angry right now.”

“Get off him.” Again, Rinrin didn’t move. Mao’s voice turned lower, almost pleading. “Please.”

More confusion but this time Rinrin actually listened. Slowly, the red fox got off his intended prey, long legs unfolding as he got out of the bed to stand in front of the other fox.

He was taller than Mao, just by a bit. They stood close enough that they could smell each other’s breaths. Mao felt that Rinrin’s should have stunk of rotten meat or something, but it didn’t. If anything he caught a hint of apple, a snack from hours before. There was nothing giving away the fact that a killer stood before him. Someone who’d eaten people.

“I-”

Mao’s voice broke so he coughed, feeling his face heating up over the slip. He didn’t feel as imposing as he wanted to be. He lacked the calm danger of the Hunters, or the arrogant confidence of Gin. Rinrin’s eyes lowered as he noticed the way Mao’s clenched fists trembled. Mao hoped he thought it was from anger, not nerves.

“I need you to stop eating people.”

He tried again and this time his voice held strong. Mao locked eyes with Rinrin and stood firm, spine straight and chin slightly lifted, just like he’d seen Gin do towards the Hunters. Confidence. Make them doubt their chances.

“And why is that?”

Rinrin either didn’t buy it or he was still confused about Mao’s anger. That he didn’t seem to see any wrong in this- it removed any last doubts Mao had over who the man-eating fox had been. It hurt in a nauseating kind of way.

For a moment Mao struggled to come up with a good answer. How did you explain to someone that eating people was wrong? It felt too obvious to put into words. His mouth hung open slightly as he searched for a good argument. ‘It’s evil’ felt like such a childish answer, even if it was correct in his mind.

Rinrin read his hesitation as something else.

The red fox’s face grew blank for just a second. You’d miss it if you blinked. Then he smiled, suddenly at ease again, or something close to it. He leaned in closer, putting them nearly forehead to forehead. It was too sudden for Mao to jerk away, too unexpected.

“Are you jealous?” Rinrin asked, eyes narrowing into pleased slits.

Mao vaguely saw one of Rinrin’s tails pull away from Joseph, just out of the corner of his eye. It swayed back then curled towards himself instead, forming a loose loop around him and the other fox. Something clicked. Rinrin was going to daze him.

So Mao punched Rinrin so hard in the stomach that the other fox doubled over with a wheeze.

Yet in that fleeting moment in between pulling his fist back and feeling it dig into Rinrin’s soft clothes, Mao found something missing. There was no magical charm, no numbing feeling trying to dull his senses. Was he wrong?

Before that doubt settled the world turned into a screeching whirl of red fur. Teeth sought Mao’s neck so he jerked backwards into a fall. His body twisted, putting front paws to the ground rather than his face. Two foxes fell into a snarling pile of violence. Wide eyes, ragged fur, snapping teeth.

If it had been just that, then Mao might have stood a chance. He twisted and snaked around the other fox, feeling warm skin catch on the edges of his teeth. Hot blood that welled up and splattered on his muzzle and front. His legs kicked until they found something to scratch against. A firm hip which jolted when his claws tore deep lines through the red fur.

Yet Rinrin bit back too.

Mao felt one of his ears go taut as the other fox pulled at it with a burning grip of fangs. Where he had kicked at a hip, Rinrin wormed his body around until he got beneath Mao’s belly. There he did a lot more damage to the soft, unguarded skin of the black fox’s abdomen.

They both screamed, snarled, yipped in pain. It drowned out the confused shout coming from Joseph’s bed. It almost drowned out the sound of the hurried steps that came next.

All Mao could see was fury, panic, the taste of blood. A rumbling pressure between his jaws that craved vicious action. Fear lay like a screaming ball in his stomach, telling him to kick harder, bite something that mattered. Fight because he was losing.

Would Rinrin kill him? Mao felt like he might do the same if he’d been the one with the upper hand. Rinrin had been about to eat his friend. He’d smelled Mao’s presence here and still gone for him. Betrayal burned at Mao’s eyes almost more than the pain did. Then fear hit him like a cold wave as he felt teeth grasping at his throat.

It happened in a flash. One moment he was entangled with another body, feeling them both bleed and bruise. Then the world jerked and Rinrin disappeared. A human foot hung in the air where the red fox had been. Red stripes from where claws or teeth had caught it were slowly starting to weep red. Joseph panted above Mao, eyes wide with panic.

Something in his neck clicked painfully as Mao turned his head to look for where Rinrin had gone. The red fox had landed by the window. He was scrambling to find his balance, bloody teeth snapping warning snarls. Then he was on his paws again and his eyes found Joseph. Three bushy red tails rose to point towards the noble and Mao’s heart turned to ice.

Then Joseph lifted something to his lips and the air shattered with a shrill screech.

A whistle sounded so much worse up close while wearing fur. It scraped at Mao’s ears like a chisel. Rinrin’s too if the way the other fox jerked back and yowled was anything to go by. Either Joseph had filched a watch whistle or his family had ways of alerting each other to danger. Either way, Rinrin wasn’t about to risk being caught, nor could he stand staying near that mind rending sound.

With more energy than Mao had left, the red fox turned tail and ran. It slipped through the still open window and disappeared, gone as fast as one woke from a nightmare. Mao wished he could have moved with such strength after their fight, but when he tried to rise his stomach screamed in pain. Deep wounds were matting the fur on his underside with blood.

Joseph didn’t notice at first. His room was lit by a single candle that had yet to burn all the way down. Add Mao’s dark fur to the mix and it was a miracle the noble hadn’t stepped on him yet.

“Mao? You’re Mao, right? You need to go. My family is coming.”

Quick footsteps were rumbling about downstairs, responding to the alarm. Mao tried to rise again but ended up whining in a puddle of pain instead. Joseph bent down to try and urge him up- then froze as his hand grew wet when he touched the fox. Sparse as the light in the room was, the dark red wetness still gleamed enough for human eyes to see.

Mao yip-snarled as Joseph scooped him up, a movement so fast it made him dizzy. Or was that the blood loss? He couldn’t tell, nor could he stop his friend as he paced with him on the spot, trying to figure out what to do.

To Mao’s great dismay - and building panic when the world stopped bouncing enough for him to realize what Joseph was doing, the noble decided that being found by his household after a murder attempt with a Wild fox bleeding in his room wasn’t something desirable. So he went for the window.

Now Mao would have hesitated in fleeing through the window. It was a treacherous climb to get across the decorative roof that lined the bottom of the top floor, before merging with the high arch that shielded it from the weather on either side. To run across it barefoot while small wounds from kicking a fighting fox were making his soles slick with blood, at night, and while carrying a wounded fox that might have been his friend - Mao had never shown Joseph his Wild form. The only thing the noble had to go on was that faint memory from the night where the elves had nearly gotten them both.

Mao would definitely have objected to Joseph running across the roof, panicking at where to go, then deciding to jump off the roof and into a bush in their neighbor’s garden, but as a fox and with his head swimming with pain he couldn’t do much more than yowl and yip as gravity made his stomach lurch.

They landed painfully but without broken bones. Joseph got about as dazed from the fall as Mao did from being thrashed by another fox, but to his credit the noble kept going after only a short moment of groaning. It was a tempting thing to pass out while Joseph climbed out of the bush, but a gnawing voice at the back of his head told Mao to stay awake.

The world once more started bouncing as he was carried down a street that was growing brighter by the second. Lanterns and torches added to that effort as much as the slowly fading night sky. Somewhere the sun was starting to rise. For once the near entirety of Noble Road was rising before it. The Watch was arriving in force and groups of Hunters were trying to both get to the scene before them and not stand out enough for the Watch to catch them interfering.

Somewhere smoke was rising.

Mao noted it all with a fading sense of motivation to stay awake. He felt tired, bruised beyond belief, and his wounds stung like betrayal. Bless Joseph for having a stronger heart than him. The noble ran all the way back to Josei’s shop, looking about as worn out as Mao when he got there.

It was morning by the time Josei opened the door to find a bloody footed noble and a beaten up fox. Her joy and anxiety at Mao having spent the night somewhere else after his date turned into full anxiety upon seeing the results of it.

While Josei patched Mao up, Joseph passed out on the sofa. Later they would hear that someone had set fire to a whole slew of hedges on a mad flight from Noble Road, likely the same perp that had broken into house Lejon and kidnapped Joseph.

That last part would need some clearing up to do, but for now Mao was just glad to be safe. Safe and heartbroken. He slept through most of the day after that, including the moment where Joseph’s family guards charged down the street- and nearly tripped on the last steps, then Josei’s fuzzing about and Joseph’s rapid lies about why he’d felt the need to run all the way here after alerting his family to danger in their own house.

It would have been a thrilling slew of explanations to listen in one - and contribute to lest he leaving his friend in deep trouble… but Mao slept. He slept the next day too, and then he just lay in bed, refusing to get up.

Josei watched her son sulk and wondered what to do about it. For heartbreak she would usually prescribe a bit of comfort food, supportive company, and a great many distractions until it wore off…

For getting the living hell beaten out of you by a crush that ended up being a man-eating monster? Why that called for all of the above and perhaps a good sturdy club. She might conscript Katja’s aid for that.