Mao couldn’t say if their time was well spent or not. Tobby had dropped the letter they’d written together after the meeting in Joseph’s room concluded. The Hunters had not, much to Tobby’s disappointment, made a huge scene about it. No fuel for heroic tales. It had kicked them into motion, sure - there were more patrols now, many of them concentrated around the Farmlands and the festival grounds - but it wasn’t exactly fire and explosions.
Joseph and Maridot told the Watch. They got a chewing out by Robina Ek, the Watch captain, for withholding important information from the Watch. They argued that they hadn’t known all this before they’d sat down and shared what they knew with each other- which earned them another earful on how younglings shouldn’t be getting involved in murder cases. Robina had enough to deal with without adding a group of would-be vigilantes to the mix.
And while his friends ran about telling the Watch and the Hunters, Mao… sat at home and ate soup. He was itching to help out, but Joseph’s guards - blast those snitches, had told his mother that his wounds had opened on his way to Joseph’s place. He was not to leave the house until those wounds closed up fully and stayed that way. It was a fair but frustrating argument.
And like that, 3 weeks passed.
Midsummer arrived slowly, as most anticipated holidays did. It swept over the city with garlands of colorful flowers, pressed petals added to the paper window screens, and piles of old wooden rubbish gathering outside doors to later be brought down to the festival grounds for the bonfires.
The fruits of the season went on sale, mostly berries like strawberries and cherries. It filled the air with the sweet smells of pies and newly made jams. Merchants, bakeries, restaurants, and bars stocked up on food and brew in preparation for the surge of business that came with hungry celebrants.
Mao watched the Farmlands buzz with activity from the window of Josei’s shop. It was that kind of early morning that hummed with expectation. Midsummer was here and with it the magic of summer was at its peak.
At dawn the farmers who lived down there near the festival grounds were out in force hanging up decorations. Next came the merchants, yawning and slightly less used to waking up this early. Their trade usually woke up with the day crowd, not the early risers of those who tended crops and livestock. Yet stalls had to be set up, wares had to be counted and put on display. Especially if one wanted to be ready in time for the first wave of children able or allowed to sneak out to run through the festival grounds before the true celebrations started. One could earn a few extra coins before the rest if you sold toys, masks, or treats for the young.
This would have been like any other year’s celebration if not for the duos of Hunters skulking about the edges of the festival grounds, keen eyes scanning the slowly growing crowd for trouble. The Watch wasn’t far behind on increased security, and unlike the Hunters, they were able to post their sentries in the open.
A surge in Hunter activity would alarm any that caught it, since Wild Ones of the dangerous kind were a threat to everyone. The Watch? The Watch was a welcome sight at a busy event. Pickpockets, unfair merchants, drunk squabbles and general rowdiness was a far less fear-inducing threat to the festivities, and such fell within the Watch’s responsibility to sort out.
The hours passed painfully slowly at first, then Josei woke up and got both herself and her son busy. They would be hosting a stall themselves, a smaller one. They’d packed what they would bring the night before so all they had to do now was have breakfast, pack lunch, and haul the small boxes of dried herbs, jars of salves, pills, and other balms for various ailments and conditions onto the small wagon they’d be pulling down towards the festival grounds.
To call it a wagon was perhaps a bit too generous. It was closer to a wheelbarrow really, the kind you could, with some effort and bodily strength, hoist up to carry up or down any set of troublesome stairs. To traverse the steep slopes and staircases of Redlog city was an artform few outsiders could brag about.
Luckily for Josei and Mao, their route was a shorter one. They lived on the northern side of the city, slightly to the west, right above the festival grounds and the Farmlands. It meant the way was steep as it saw them travel from about the middle height of the mountain city down to the base, but there were plenty of stops to rest one’s feet on along the way.
Almost the moment they arrived, Mao felt eyes upon him. Wary Hunters circling the area either on horseback or on foot, ready to move at a moment’s notice. They didn’t approach, much to his relief, but the constant gaze had the hairs on the back of his neck rising. They still suspected him but the tip he and his friends had left them had clearly been appreciated. Mao just hoped that they were right or that appreciation might turn sour before the night’s end.
Josei gave him little time to suffer from his worries. They had much to do and the distraction was welcome. Most of the city had woken up by now and made their way outside. That meant the first rush of customers browsing the market was about to start.
Their stall was a humble affair of two tables, 4 poles, and a striped tarp of brown and green to keep them in the shade, and dry in case of a drizzle. The stall parts they kept stored in a shed to the side of the festival grounds, where most left such things for most of the year. It took about an hour to set up, then came arraying their wares in a way that would appeal to the curious eye. Yet it couldn’t be TOO tempting or they would invite thieves. A careful balance had to be kept.
It was good business though.
They’d made a decent profit by the time lunch arrived, at which point they took a break to enjoy each other’s company at the long tables. Lunch turned out to be a bit of cherry pie, sausages they heated over the large central bonfire, and an experimental sauce Katja was pioneering.
Mao could have sworn they’d packed potatoes too but couldn’t for the life of him find them. A suspiciously content Tulip refused any treats, suggesting a full belly of ill acquired food. Josei bought them some roasted root-vegetables to make up for the lack of taters. All in all, the day started off pretty good. Almost good enough to forget the threat looming over everything.
The first sign of trouble arrived later in the day when Mao and Josei had started closing up their stall. Most of the stock they’d brought had been sold, and both were feeling the strain of working a crowd. Both craved a rest and some time to just sit about somewhere to recover. It made cleaning up agonizingly slow and taxing, especially with the bonfires crackling nearby with their enticing seats.
Once they had what little remained packed away and out of sight they were planning to have a go at some of the stalls hosting games of chance and skill. Mao was confident in his ability to hit a target with a ball enough times to win a price to impress everyone watching.
However, that plan got put on pause as a congregation made its way up onto the stage at the back of the festival grounds.
The angle and location of the raised platform was laid out so that the market and feasting area lay on either side of the main path, with the stage at the end of the many rows of long-tables. Ever easy to spot with its elevated floor and the banners and lanterns set up to guide the crowd towards it, one easily caught sight of the new group walking onto the stage.
Fine clothing and jewels, guards armed in filigree and silken tabards displaying crests that were both familiar and not, here came the nobles. Not an unusual sight at these celebrations. The high blooded folks liked to arrive late so that as many as possible would be awed by their combined appearance. They rose to the stage one at a time in an orderly que, each person spaced away from the other to make it clear that they were not waiting for their turn, as such would have been beneath them. Yet it had to be one or two at a time, because they were far too many to all step up there at once.
Nothing new even if it was a spectacle. No, what caught the eye this year was the man at the front of the not-que. A rather tall fellow with a fair few lines to the face despite his apparent youth. Signs of a stressful job perhaps. He couldn’t have been much older than Mao, if even that.
The mysterious noble was also dark haired, had a warm blue-green color to the eyes, and wore such a combination of silk and velvet that he must be important.
Mao wasn’t familiar with the style of his vest, flowing sleeves, and a high belt wide enough to display a number of fine chains with a few tasteful trinkets hung from them to glitter and click. It was not a fashion that had dug its claws into Redlog’s nobility just yet, but after this? It would be the only thing one saw for weeks, if not months.
Onto the scene they went, the stranger first, and as the band of musicians hidden off to the side of the stage started playing some high court tune that was far too complex and over-dramatic for Redlog’s more cheery preferences, Mao recognized the man as the royal.
Looking as if he’d been born to do this, the royal took his place in the middle at the front of the stage, while the nobles filed up the stairs to stand on either side of him, just a step behind. The mayor joined him in the middle. Usually Riarin Ros would be present too as the Red Light district handled a huge part of the festival arrangements each year, but Mao spotted a well dressed man in a red suit in her stead. Odd, but maybe she was sick or something.
As every year before this one, the show of wealth and tradition was one to impress the masses. The nobles, each a head of their house or a representative chosen for this moment, bowed towards the city, then turned as one and took their seat at the gaudiest long-table in the festival grounds.
The local nobles and their guests did this every year, twice. Once for midsummer and once for midwinter. Possibly for other lesser holidays too.
It was to show that they were here to share in the holiday with the rest of the city. They were as part of the population as the rest, even if elevated in status and wealth, and while their participation required some ritual and glamor to soothe easily ruffled feathers, their part of the celebrations was meant to show solidarity. A lot of rich nonsense in Mao’s mind, but he couldn’t argue that it was something worth watching.
To most people this was just a fun spectacle and a chance to feel a little fancy as one dined at the decorated long-tables with the high and mighty from Noble Road. How many other cities and towns hosted twice-yearly banquets with noble guests mingling with the common folks? Not many. Probably.
House Lilja’s matriarch and patriarch in particular were a sight to see. Both wore crowns of murklily, blooms impossibly huge to the point where the tapered petals hung down over their foreheads like strands of hair.
The mayor, that stressed little man one sometimes saw running from place to place while hounded by this or that, was clearing his throat in the way of requesting silence for a speech. It worked somewhat. One did not calm an excited crowd quite so easily, but many held at least some smidge of sympathy for the harried little man.
While the yearly speech welcoming the far travelers, the efforts of the locals, and the merry celebrations already in full go all around started, Mao’s attention drifted to the audience. He spotted no small amount of Hunters mingling with the crowd, some pretending to be eager commoners with just a few more scars than was expected or normal - or maybe they just weren’t trying as hard as the rest to look dour and strict.
The Watch kept at the edges of the crowd, positioned out of the way yet close enough to intervene if their aid was needed. They would have a harder time rushing in if something started within the main crowd in front of the stage. They could hold it back and divide it, but they weren’t spread through it like the Hunters were.
Mayor Mapleshield started to introduce the royal and Mao felt a sting of worry beginning to gnaw at his stomach. The words of the speech didn’t linger long in his ears. His attention was elsewhere. He was equal parts hoping and dreading spotting a flash of red, be it hair or fur. Would Rinrin be here as they’d thought? How bold would he be? If he hadn’t known about the royal currently prancing about on the stage holding some speech meant to inspire and inform that Redlog, while distant and on the fringes of the settled lands of man, was still a part of the kingdom and loved as such and blah blah blah - then surely Rinrin had noticed him by now.
Mao stared himself blind at faces that weren’t what he was looking for. No brown eyes, no sly smile, no invitation to run through the night at the wildest of whims. What he found was stark yellow and pupils like slits through frail fabric. The young fox flinched as he met eyes with Gin, standing at the back of the crowd. The snake didn’t react much in turn but he did spot Mao. A faint tilt of the head and a nod to the side was all that he gave.
Confused, Mao followed the pale man’s gaze to another part of the crowd. What he saw made him freeze on the spot.
Standing twice as high as the tallest of humans in the crowd was a stag. It stood upright, front legs bent at the waist like a pair of arms. It wore a robe, a simple thing of linen and a yellow dye spread in splotches rather than evenly. It made the robe look like it had fallen into a field of dandelions, little explosions of vibrant color.
No one else seemed to notice the stag, but the stag noticed Mao. Square pupils surrounded by an iris of deep brown met his own golden ones. Its eyes narrowed with mirth as it caught Mao’s gaze, then the stag turned and left the crowd. Mao followed its path towards the shrine, that small but impressive building across the stream facing the fields. As it crossed the lantern lit bridge Mao noticed that it wasn’t alone.
They were hard to pick out at first, then once noticed they stuck out like trees in a field. The stag was joined by a duo of hares, fur earth brown and ears struck back to accommodate crowns of daisies and violets. A hen with a neck draped in gemstones and pearls clucked a laugh as what looked like a moving pile of lichen and roots lurched along with her.
All were headed towards the shrine. As the nobles on the scene took their seats at their long-table, facing the crowd across bouquets of flowers and ferns, a very different crowd made towards a feast of their own away from prying eyes.
Mao was spellbound. He watched them go, slow but graceful, some skipping with joy, others holding themselves with the kind of pride a noble could never achieve, no matter how much of their life they dedicated towards cultivating such things.
The snake did not go, but Mao felt something burning in his chest, a longing he could define word for word if he tried.
We invite Mao the fox to join our midsummer banquet.
He went with them. Of course he did. None of the Wild Ones seemed surprised when he joined their number, for all that most of them wore their animal faces rather than a human form. Maybe they didn’t have one. It was hard to imagine some of the figures taking on a form that would blend with the crowd back by the stage.
Not that they needed to once they entered the shrine.
At first, Mao felt nervous about passing the seemingly unimpressive shrine doors. Sure the building was ornate, for all that it wasn’t very big. Not compared to the castle-like structures he’d read about in other places of the world. This was a local thing, a tribute to the Wilds as a whole rather than a single entity. A said to host feasts and parties that mirrored their human counterparts.
Two roofs shielded this shrine, the outer one arched and tipped by curves of polished wood. The inner was more for show, sporting many curling shapes and support beams shaped into filigree-like patterns. A high deck surrounded the one room present in the middle, with a fence using old logs as posts separating it from the rest of the world.
Two dark metal lanterns hung on either side of the humble doors, a pair of paper screens, and any other day of the year one might have spotted a plain stone altar past them, held within a room so small that only a handful of people might have squeezed into it at once. Mao had peeked through these doors once many years back as a child and seen that that wasn’t always the case. Now, he stepped with the fantastical figures of tales and fables into a place that wasn’t fully real.
A sense of vertigo nearly made the young fox fall. When he caught his balance, Redlog was gone. Opposite of the shrine’s front lay nothing but leaves. A forest so dense that one couldn’t see past its branches. Before Mao could panic, a furred hand grasped his arm and helped him up.
Stunned, Mao stared at the dark eyed face of a badger. It spoke in a deep timbre, a rumble at the back of its throat. “Are you alright? Try not to trip.”
They went on before Mao could stutter out an answer, seemingly pleased to have helped, but feeling no urge to do more than that. The badger went the same way as the rest, through the paper gates and into a corridor bathed in the soft light of paper lanterns.
Mao followed despite his quaking knees, feeling as if turning back now would be a slight of some kind. To distract himself, the fox took in every detail that he could. And the things he saw…
The ceiling was far higher than he’d expected. It reminded him of the Red Lantern, but grander in some way. More formal. The ceiling was a crisscross of wooden beams supporting dark wooden planks, many of which were carved into vague imagery of reveling animals. From each cross of the beams hung a paper lantern sporting pressed pink flowers forming the image of a tree. It was as if a tiny forest lit the room from above.
Beneath the intricate ceiling stood walls of old wood that smelled of the amber blood of pines. Even sections of the walls opened up into more paper screens, most plain, while a few sported nature motifs of curling branches and flowering fields.
The floor was soft, sanded, worn by so many years that Mao could scarcely imagine it. Lush carpets of green each hosted a low table of the same dark wood that made up the walls. They were stacked so high with food and brew that one could barely see past the feast to the people sitting on the opposite side of it.
With nothing else to draw the crowd, most went to take a seat by the tables. The lack of chairs soon became understandable as Mao eyed some of the guests.
While some wore robes or dresses that covered their lower halves, many left their legs free for ease of movement. Rather than a human bend to the knee and ankle, a good portion of the guests had the same legs as an animal would, yet somehow they remained upright. A strange mix of human and beast. Others, like the lurching pile of lichen and roots, had no legs at all. Yet all sunk down onto the plush carpets without noticeable discomfort. A chair would have been impossible for some.
Mao, feeling slightly overwhelmed, nearly sat down at the first empty spot he came across - then his eyes locked onto a familiar sight.
Rather than one, two or three, six fluffy tails waved lazy circles behind a mostly human looking woman wearing a fine gown. Like Rinrin had once done to impress Mao, she kept her tails on display, along with a pair of triangular ears atop her head. Her fur was a dark grey, like wet ashes. Streaks of white dotted her hair and turned the tips of her tails frosted.
She noticed Mao staring and, like most had at this point, smiled knowingly. They could spot a new face in this crowd with ease and Mao’s stunned reactions to everything and everyone was cause for great amusement. For most.
Some, like a woman with eyes like Gin’s and scales of crimson running up her arms looked annoyed when stared at. Best to focus on the friendly ones.
The fox woman looked friendly enough and Mao felt a growing urge to go and bombard her with questions, so he went her way. No objection came, nor was the spot next to her taken. And much to Mao’s relief, she welcomed his company before he could wrack his brain for a way to say hi.
“My, aren’t you a fresh face. Your first time here I assume?”
Her voice had a lilting quality to it. A kind of sing-song tone meant to portray some kind of character Mao wasn’t familiar with. It reminded him of a noble, but slightly off.
“Erh- yes. I got invited.”
She tittered at that, loudly enough to hurt Mao’s pride a bit.
“Why of course, otherwise you wouldn’t be here. It isn’t so easy to sneak into a midsummer feast.” She snickered.
“That’s a lie, Aska,” hollered a dog-faced man from the other side of the fox woman. “We’ve had brats and curious fools sneaking into feasts left and right!”
‘Aska’, replied in a tone far less friendly than the one she reserved for Mao.
“Not anymore, at least not here. People tore each other apart on whether they could eat the intruders or not just a few years back.”
The dog wafted a hand and whuffed. “That’s the risk of spying on the Wilds, isn’t it? At least on intruding.”
“The rules here forbid violence. That goes for the man-eaters as well.”
Aska’s eyes glinted as she fixed the dog with an eager stare. “Are you going to make a fuss about it? Again?”
That made the dog man’s shoulders hunch defensively. “...No. As much as it would amuse you, no. Even if I think it’s silly. Back in Reverence folks wouldn’t be so stiff-”
“And you’d dine on human flesh like the monsters they paint on their walls. Yes yes, I’ve heard this rant before.”
With a sudden twist of her body, Aska turned back to the silent Mao and focused on him. It made him flinch. “Tell me little fox, what is interesting in Redlog this year? I rarely visit. Amuse me with something new.”
Mao stuttered for a response, then pinched his arm under the table and gathered himself. Here was a chance to impress. He wouldn’t get a second chance at making his first impressions.
“Well there is- erh, there’s a killer on the loose.”
Aska’s curiosity sparked at once, and the dog on her other side actually perked up. Both leaned in close enough to make Mao feel uneasy. The dog’s breath stank of something fermented.
Feeling put on the spot, Mao did his best to impress them both with a tale of real events. His heart was doing its best to hammer its way out of his chest but his tingled with excitement. Trying his best to keep his face calm and dignified, Mao went to spin them a tale.
“There’s a fox on the loose eating people’s hearts.”
To his disappointment, the dog’s face fell, but just for a moment.
“Ah, just a fox gobbling people up again. Wait- Redlog isn’t so keen on such things are they?”
Aska spoke before Mao could respond.
“They had one way back. Not a fox but a snake- ah, I think he might still be around actually. Not entirely toothless that one, but too wise to turn up here.”
“I thought you said violence was forbidden.” The dog huffed. Aska looked unimpressed.
“It is, which is why he stays clear. Folks in disagreement get rowdy and Redlog has its share of territorial ones.”
“So we get to sit without entertainment.” With another huff, the dog downed a glass of what smelled like strong ale. Aska’s nose scrunched up in distaste as the dog burped and slammed the cup back down on the table.
“Erh,” Mao felt both eyes switch back to him as he tried to speak up, but the thing they’d said had his curiosity outwinning his nervosity.
“You mention a snake.”
“Yes my dear. What of the snake?” Aska smiled once again, looking a tad too sweet to be sincere.
“Is that snake named Gin by any chance? Runs a tavern in the Red Light district.”
Aska turned her eyes to the ceiling to ponder this. Her theatrics were interrupted by another burp from the dog, which had her glaring daggers at him before she turned back to Mao.
“It might be. I’m so terrible with names like that but- no, I don’t think Redlog had any other snakes of note other than him. How curious that. Do you know him?”
“We’ve met,” was all that Mao could answer. Aska’s interest faded a bit. Think, Mao. Think.
“But he’s chasing the fox. The- what did you call it?” Mao continued, hoping to keep the conversation going.
“A man-eater,” Aska drew the word out with the kind of delight one reserved for macabre fascinations. “They who dine on human. It’s an addictive kind of meat. Turns us mad. I never fancied it. Luco there does, which is why he’s such a brute.”
Aska pointed a delicate finger over her shoulder at the dog man, who whuffed an unimpressed laugh.
Mao on the other hand was staring now.
“I thought you had to, to…”
Unsure of how to phrase it, Mao pointed at Aska’s tails. She followed the finger and looked confused, so he went on.
“Gain more tails. Or is- that’s why the other fox is eating people.”
Aska blinked, and so did Luco. Then - both looked at each other and laughed.
Confused and embarrassed, Mao dug his nails into his legs while his face burned. Aska’s patronizing tones became even sweeter as she turned to stroke his cheek affectionately. Her touch was a bit too warm and made him want to flinch away, but a pressing hunch told him that it would just draw out another fit of giggles at his own expense, so he kept as still as he could.
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Unfortunately that seemed to amuse her as well, but a quirk of the lips stung less than laughter.
“Oh how you remind me of me when I was young. You said he’s eating people, right? Not just the one? My sweet one, that won’t get you more than one tail. Two at best, but that takes something extreme I imagine.”
Mao brushed Aska’s hand away, feeling his affection for this other fox cooling quickly. To his slight irritation, even this caused a smile preluding to laughter. She kept her face calm though, graceful and serene and - Luco just huffed his gruff laugh, guffawing loudly and suddenly enough for Aska to jump slightly in her seat. It made the fur drooping down from the dog’s brown cheeks flutter back and forth, and the fox woman glared.
It took Aska a moment to gather herself again. She cleared her throat, smoothed out the skirt of her robe, then smiled as if nothing had bothered her at all. Mao didn’t buy it but he’d learned to play along by now.
“Milestones, honey. Each tail comes from a milestone,” Aska explained.
“That means new,” Luco interjected. Aska shot him another glare.
“New, as Luco said. You can’t do the same trick twice,” she continued. Mao felt some of his ire calm down enough for his curiosity to return. Or more accurately, his curiosity came stomping in with enough fanfare to quell his ire.
“Then how do you get them? How do you have so many?”
Another point towards Aska’s waving tails, this time with more certainty. She put a hand over Mao’s hand and lowered them both.
“It’s rude to point. You must be creative to gain power. Since you’re so sweet and innocent I think I’ll teach you a bit.”
Her smile was wide, painted a purple-ish red, and her teeth were too white and perfectly straight. She was prettier than most nobles Mao had seen in Redlog and wore it with a conscious arrogance. He didn’t quite like her. There was something dishonest about how she complimented him.
Warily, Mao watched as she curled her tails around him, letting the silky fur brush against his skin just enough to cause goosebumps. She reminded him of Rinrin in a way and that just soured his opinion of her further. He let none of that show on his face though, so Aska continued her antics unawares.
One tail broke from the rest and waved in front of Mao’s face.
“This one was my first. It comes naturally. You have your own so that shouldn’t surprise.”
She replaced the first tail with another one. This one’s tip was darker than the rest, smudged by spots of black and dark grey, almost like soot stains.
“This one,” she purred, eyes gleaming with deeply rooted pride, “I got from tricking a man out of his house by tipping a lantern over. His outhouse caught on fire and while he went to put it out, I snuck inside his house and stole his dinner.”
Mao’s tense face relaxed with wonder. That was a different tale to how Rinrin got his. Far less bloody, if a tad destructive still. Aska noted the change with a pleased twitch of the lips. She went on, waving the sooty tail about in twirls.
“My second let me set things on fire at will, sparks fly if I rub my tails together.”
She rubbed the second tail against a third one and, as promised, angry sparks flew from the ashen fur. Mao flinched back but was stopped from going further by the other tails pushing against his back. Luco cleared his throat in warning, probably disapproving of showing off fire in a place made of paper and wood, yet Aska ignored it.
“With my fire I played a great many tricks. I once spooked a monk so badly that he leapt into the canals. His temple announced the presence of a cruel demon of fire the next day and wouldn’t you believe it,”
Aska flicked her tail away with flourish. “Another tail~”
Luco huffed, finding more pleasure from his cup than the tales Aska were spinning. Mao however was spellbound.
“Now my third, that one was what really let me cut loose. It gave me illusions.”
For a moment Aska’s face flickered. Mao blinked and saw a dark snout, one eye golden and the other blue. Sharp teeth snapped shut right in front of his face and the young man nearly flew to his feet. Another blink of the eye and Aska was back to her pretty human appearance. Fake.
“I stole a babe from its craddle and took its place. It was a rich house’s home so they raised me with silk and spice and all things nice. I wear their jewels, their name, and they know not a thing that they’ve been tricked. That gave me my fourth.”
“Wha-” Mao felt something squeeze his lungs. She’d done what? What about the-
Luco barked what might have been a laugh or a scoff, Mao couldn’t tell. “She didn’t eat the child if that’s what has your fur on end, kid.”
Aska blinked then actually looked offended.
“Of course not. I knew by then what it did to people. Rabid beasts are made from human meat. No, I put it in the woods like any civilized person. Some dog probably ate it.”
Mao didn’t know what to say. What a horrible person. It was a wonder she could smile so sweetly. Aska herself didn’t seem to notice the evil in her tale. Luco just looked disapproving. Mao thought he considered it a waste at first, but the old dog surprised him.
“Someone could have found the child and then you’d be caught.”
“Nonsense. Humans put their offspring in the woods all the time when they don’t want them.” Aska argued.
“Don’t let Mother Wolf hear that. She’ll chase you down the next fullmoon.” Luco shot back.
For the first time since they got talking, Aska looked nervous. She shot a glance across the room that made Mao’s heartbeat pick up when he followed it.
A huge wolf of snow white fur sat on the far side of the room, drinking merrily together with a human with gills and a ferret wearing a hat. They didn’t seem to notice Mao’s group, so Aska hunched down a bit and went on.
“Fifth and sixth were fine works.”
Her voice trembled slightly at the first words, but she quickly regained her composure after clearing her throat.
“I had my new family marry me to a man of my choosing, then gave him a daughter. Now I raise her so I can take her place once my current name grows too old. I expect my seventh to come from that.”
Delicately and without a single care for the morality of her future plans, Aska picked up a cherry from a platter and ate it. Mao felt like he should say something, but he also felt that the company he sat in wouldn’t take well to the words playing at the tip of his tongue. Josei had taught him a great many ways to voice one’s distaste for someone, especially after finding out about Rinrin.
Such words would gain him no favor here, so instead he settled for a dry remark.
“You seem to have it all planned out.”
Aska chuckled at that, taking it as a compliment. One of her tails brushed against Mao’s cheek again, feigning affection. Or was that real? He couldn’t really tell. She seemed to believe her own words and the goodness of them though.
“I do. Maybe I’ll actually reach nine. That’s the furthest anyone has gotten. Then they died.”
“What? Why?” Mao blinked in surprise.
Luco answered before Aska could, “Milestones, boy, milestones. The more you have, the more history you got, and history gets folks killed. Especially if you’re the ambitious kind like little miss noble here.” He sounded mighty proud of his reference of the milestones. Aska just looked offended, but mildly so.
Despite the topics at hand, despite knowing that Aska might be as horrible as Rinrin, if not worse… Mao was starting to relax. There was something about this place, the surreal sight of so many Wild Ones in their true or chosen forms enjoying a lavish feast away from the eyes of reality. It made one want to trade tales and hear about this world he didn’t usually see much of. He wondered if any Hunters ever joined these feasts. Ulven would pop a vein within a minute of talking to Aska or Luco he bet.
“What about the seventh and eighth then? How will you get those?”
Mao picked up what looked like a fried bun full of baked apples. It smelled of cinnamon. Aska mused while he tried it.
“I might steal something. Something of historical value. Maybe I’ll impersonate someone important. Start or end a war by playing the right words to the right people, hmm…”
The bun was delicious. Fried to crispy perfection to hold a soft gooey inside of soft apples and an almost metallic spice.
“Maybe I’ll steal a tail from another fox if I find one I really don’t like.”
Mao choked on the bun.
Unconcerned or perhaps oblivious to the dangers of choking, Luco took a sip of his cup and said, “Didn’t know you could steal them. How’s that work?”
Aska gave Mao a few pats on the back yet carried on the conversation.
“It’s a bloody move I bet. I feel like I could do it though. Just rip it free and add it to my own. It’ll probably kill them if they only have the one, or set them on a life-long grudge if they survive. Thus I will only consider it if I hate them enough. I would never do it to someone as innocent as our friend here.”
With a sharp cough, Mao’s throat cleared. His head was rushing from both the lack of oxygen and a sudden thought. A memory that raised a fear he hadn’t previously known was possible. Steal a tail? Redlog only had two foxes- No, that wasn’t right…
It had three.
With a jerk that freed him from Aska’s tails, much to her shock, Mao rose from the table. Luco lifted a bushy brow high enough for one to see the dark eye hidden beneath it at the sudden movement.
Mao nearly rushed out without a word before remembering where he was. That could be seen as a slight and he didn’t want a man-eater and a child-killing fox to think him an enemy.
So, stiffly he turned around, bowed, thanked them for their company, then took off.
Luco watched the young fox rush past surprised Wild Ones until he disappeared down the dark corridor. People were still arriving even as some had sat there for long enough to be full on the provided food. New ones tended to eat too quickly and get sick. Luco knew better so he just sipped from his mug, munched on a chicken leg, and sent a cheeky wink at Lady Hen from across the room.
Young ones always had something to get riled up over, even at events meant for relaxing.
_
Mao fell as he left the shrine.
One second he was passing through the shrine doors, the next he went tumbling down the stairs. The world lurched as the dense forest spat him out into a world he knew. It was night outside, yet the sun hadn’t set yet. Midsummer wouldn’t let it. The air was rife with the smell of food, smoke from the bonfires, sweaty people still milling about as the festivities continued into the night.
Mao clawed the ground on his way up, feeling more certain of his suspicion by the second. He swung around to look at the festival grounds behind the shrine and saw something that confirmed his suspicions.
Hunters and the Watch still patrolling, no sign of Rinrin or anything to distract the ones guarding the place.
If Rinrin was to strike, surely he would have done so by now. Sure it would have set every single Hunter and Watchman on him if he went for the royal at the midst of the feast, but that bold fox had said he wanted a challenge.
If not here, then at night while the royal slept and Mao doubted he’d do that now. Rinrin had gone to Joseph when he was awake. He wasn’t being careful anymore.
And he wasn’t here.
Mao ran to his and Josei’s stand where he found his tired mother enjoying a cup of apple cider with a merchant friend he didn’t recognize. Josei stirred as Mao came running through the crowd.
If he was wrong then bless all the Wild Ones and their wicked whims, but if he was right-
“Mao? What’s the matter- what are you looking for?”
Heart hammering almost too loud for him to hear his mother, Mao went digging through the wares they’d packed up earlier, desperately searching for something he could use. Rinrin had beat him bloody in their last fight. This time Mao wouldn’t play fair.
Worried, Josei shooed her drinking buddy away and went to check on her panicking son.
“He’s not going for the royal, he’s going for his mom!”
“Mao?” Josei tried to touch his shoulder.
“He’s going to kill Riarin!”
Josei paled. She’d been told why the Watch and Hunters were here in such forces of course. He wouldn’t keep something like that from her. Not with how she worried over the Hunters going after him. Now, she latched onto those words without question. Clearly there wasn’t time for an explanation. She joined Mao in digging through their stock, hands far more stable than Mao’s shaking ones were.
“What do you need?” she asked.
“Something to stop a fox.”
Truth be told, Mao wasn’t sure what he needed. He just knew that he couldn’t beat Rinrin in a fight with only teeth and claws. Josei slapped a brown glass jar into his hand and used the other to close his fingers around it. Mao paused to stare at it. Josei jerked his hands back down before he could open the jar to check the contents. She fixed him with a stare that made him grow still.
“Irevine. You toss this at him, shards be damned. Don’t open it near yourself.”
Another squeeze of her hands around his, then she let go. Mao stuttered.
“The Hunters-”
“I’ll tell them. You go make sure Riarin is safe. Beat that scoundrel blue if you have to.”
Mao’s hands stopped shaking so Josei patted his arm then gave him a push to get going. Off he went, her brave and foolish son. Off to stop another son about to do something horrific.
The Hunters noticed the black fox dashing off into the wheat fields, naturally, but Josei cuffed Ulven before he could give chase. When she told him where Mao was going, the old Hunter knew that he might be too late. They wouldn’t get there as fast, even with horses. Their steeds couldn’t run up the stairs and with this many people out and about on this side of the mountain they couldn’t wear their wolf pelts as freely. They would try still, of course, but Ulven cursed that fact that he would be too slow.
_
Green stalks of wheat slapped Mao in the face as he ran. He ignored them and instead pushed his legs to move faster. The walls of the mountain were coming up and Mao knew that to go around to get to the base of the stairs would waste him precious time. As would going around some of the fenced in vegetable gardens. So rather than turn when the first high obstacle blocked his path, Mao sped up.
Adrenaline informed his actions more than reason in that moment. The fox hunched down as his leaping gait brought him low to the ground. In that split second where all four paws met the ground Mao curled, tensed, then sprung upwards, flying into the air with as much force as his body could muster.
He sailed over the tall stone wall and the wooden fence on top of it with inches to spare and legs that ached. Stones from a simple path leading through the growing carrots and lettuce met his paws when he landed. They made a scritching sound as his claws scraped over them in another push and leap. Through the vegetables, over another fence, then up a wall.
A wall.
Mao’s mind caught up with him mid-air, a stone wall as high as a squat building rapidly approaching his face. No time to think anything but ‘If I can go down then surely I can go up’, Mao spread his claws and braced. In the split second gravity lagged behind, Mao dug his claws in and pushed. He went up one leap, two, three…
The world pulled at his body and demanded he go back down, but Mao refused to let go. He had to climb the last bit, but that saved him from having to go around the long winding staircase that would have brought him onto his own home street.
Instead the black fox heaved himself up onto a balcony of the lower streets of the Red Light district. Lungs burning, legs protesting, but mind set, Mao kept going. He nearly tripped as one of his legs tried to give out, but a surge of urgency kept him going.
Through the permanent market stalls of the Red Light district, past hedges of red leaves and fences to mark private property from places of delight and entertainment. The streets lay empty. Even the most anti-social of drunkards had been drawn down to the midsummer festivities tonight. Mostly because no bartenders or merchants had remained to entertain them here. Not when the real coin was down at the festival grounds.
To see this place empty sent chills down Mao’s spine. It made his fur stand on end. His mouth tasted like iron.
The Red Lantern, Riarin’s brothel of much renown stood at the center of the district. It was a castle unto itself in this place that was both slum and heart of the city. Every merchant came here, every traveler, every local set foot in this part of town at least once in their life. No place had as many restaurants, bars, shops of entertainment and places to waste the night away.
The entrance doors to the brothel should have been closed, no business on this holiday night.
Someone had pushed both open wide and left them so. A dramatic entrance.
The counter where the receptionist usually sat should have reeked of perfume. It still did, but beneath that lay the scent of earth, of the forest, of dried blood and a fox that Mao knew.
Rinrin had brushed a hand over the counter, lingered just a moment. Mao’s nostrils flared as he caught that. He slowed too, just for a moment, then he kept going at a sprint.
Claw marks raked the wall to the right as it continued into a corridor leading deeper into the brothel. The scent was fresh. Rinrin had scraped the wall slowly in passing, tearing at the wood with more strength than someone who didn’t care would have to spare. Deeper marks than a human’s weak fingernails would have allowed.
Mao dropped his animal guise as he turned a corner. The corridor held rows of private rooms separated by walls of varying levels of sound proofing. Some had nothing but paper screens to hide what would be going on within. Rinrin’s trail led him past them, further inwards.
Another turn. Mao skidded across the polished floorboards as he took it running, claws digging into a door frame to not let himself slip. He dashed through, righted himself into an upright sprint, then crossed through another pair of doors.
The sight that met once he went through had him skidding to a halt. He’d come to the last stretch of corridor that led towards the stairs at the back, leading up to the second floor.
She stood there, back turned towards him. A simple silk robe hung loosely around her frame, leaving the shoulders bare for a lack of care. One arm hung limply by her side, the other raised to return… a hug.
Mao ground to a halt, chest heaving and eyes disbelieving. He had the jar of irevine in one hand, ready to throw, ready to see the worst. To arrive just in time for a tragedy.
Instead he saw Rinrin and Riarin hugging. Rinrin was taller than her by just a bit. His clothes were worn and had a few signs of the forest still clinging to it. A burr from some prickly plant, a tear near the waist from some sharp branch. An oak leaf in his hair.
Riarin had a clear bottle of some amber liquid in the hand hanging by her side. It dropped to the ground with a loud clink, refusing to break but perfectly willing to spill its contents over the fine wooden floor in a slow trickle.
From where he stood, Mao only saw tangled hair, bare feet. The robe, he realized, was the kind you slept in. Or stayed up in to drink some problem away. Rinrin had his face buried in her hair, like a child might after a bad scare.
It was such a tender moment that Mao felt like an intruder. It wasn’t the kind of thing you stared at. He started to turn away and that’s how he nearly missed Rinrin’s fingers turning into claws that aimed inwards, aiming to grasp his mother’s spine through her flesh.
Rinrin didn’t see her now free hand flash beneath the robe, pushing the cloth away into a flutter that revealed a strap around the upper thigh and the sheath of a knife. One she pulled in a motion so swift it must have been practiced.
Rinrin saw the arm swinging upwards and let go, but his claws came away bloodied. Riarin staggered but finished the swing, cutting air where her son had stood in an arc that would have taken him in the ribs if he hadn’t dodged. Mao barely had time to blink.
Surprised, the red fox leapt backwards. He didn’t stop. A quick step to the side then a kick off the floor to send him at his mother for another slash. She returned it with another arc of the knife, upwards at a diagonal to cut the charge off unless he fancied losing a lot of blood. He didn’t. To the side he went, leaving a gap between himself and Riarin who backed up against the wall.
The ground rumbled beneath them all as Mao lifted the little brown jar and threw.
Rinrin saw it sail through the air- and he also saw Mao. Which of them surprised him the most wasn’t entirely clear, but surprise wasn’t enough to make him stand still as the glass projectile came towards him. Rinrin was quick.
It would have been a perfect dodge if not for Mao’s aim. He’d aimed up. Up towards the beams one could climb on to look down at the corridor beneath if one had the balance for it. The glass shattered upon the rough wood and shed its contents in a cloud of orange dust.
Mao could feel the sting even from where he was standing several paces away.
Rinrin? He made the mistake of looking up at the sound of impact.
With a shriek the red fox lurched backwards. He tore at his eyes with bloody claws, howling in pain as the vicious dust latched onto his eyes and skin. Riarin fared better but not by much.
She wasn't a stranger to using dust of this kind. She’d used irevine herself in times past, so when the jar came flying she’d lifted the sleeve of her robe to cover her face. That left her blinded but stumbling away from the sound of her howling son.
Rinrin’s fury turned into a sound of tearing skin and crackling bones. A violent transformation unleashed the fox from its human shell, blinded but furious. Three tails lashed about like angry snakes. He lunged towards the sound of Riarin shuffling away from him with a shriek, teeth gleaming sharply in his open maw.
Was he larger than the last time Mao had seen him? The red fox was closer to the size of a large dog than a fox now.
The ground shook again with a deep tremor. Mao barely registered it as he lunged forwards, keeping his human shape for the sheer mass of it compared to his smaller animal form.
He tackled Rinrin just as the red fox’s teeth latched onto the arm his mother raised in defense. The impact tore the fox free with a gush of blood and a pained scream from Riarin.
Both men hit the floor, one in fur and the other with desperate hands trying to close around the clawing legs, a throat, and tuft of fur- anything.
The fox was like oil and sinew in his hands, ever twisting and refusing to be pinned down. Mao’s instincts screamed at him to shed his form and bite downwards, hoping for a throat, but doing so would put him in range of Rinrin’s far larger jaws. A death trap to the smaller fox.
While fighting that urge and the constant blaring of fear and adrenaline in his head, Mao felt the tails wrapping around his waist too late. Like steel wire they closed into a loop that squeezed his guts painfully-
Then gravity lost him as he went sailing through the air. For a moment he was airborne, free of weight and beholden only to momentum- then his back hit a wall and the air left Mao’s lungs.
Rinrin spun onto his feet after throwing Mao off himself. The fox kept turning on the spot, all snarling teeth and lashing tails, ready to tear apart whoever he got a hold of first. The floor vibrated-
Then with a crunch of wood and breaking steel supports a maw greater than Rinrin’s emerged from below. Ivory fangs and white scales, both snapped shut but failed to catch the fox. With a yip of shocked fear, Rinrin slipped free and landed on the floor as it tore apart around the massive snake head. Balance was impossible to find as floorboards went up, sideways, down - every direction they could away from the snake’s emerging body.
Gin was large enough to fill the corridor almost wall to wall. It didn’t stop him from turning. Screens and wooden walls alike crumbled like paper beneath the heft of his body.
At risk of being crushed, Mao pushed himself up and aimed for the stairs. His body screamed in pain at the movement, but it was to grit his teeth and push through it or become collateral damage to Gin’s rampage. Where had the snake come from? Beneath the floor? Where the floor fell away one could see hints of an unground space. Large and cavernous, but also wet. Sewers.
Riarin was hobbling down the corridor on the other side of the snake, leaving her son and Mao in the path of the giant snake as it turned towards them.
Mao saw Rinrin shake his head furiously to be rid of the itching dust, still unable to see much. He managed to clear his eyes just enough to open them, right in time for Gin’s massive head turn fully towards him, then lurch backwards. Mao saw the movement and dropped his human shape at once for speed. He kicked off, tried to ignore his screaming ribs, and leapt up the stairs as fast as he could.
The snake lunged.
Mao made it onto a ceiling beam just in time to see Rinrin leapt towards the incoming jaws of certain death - then dash to the side, kick a wall, and send himself careening towards the side of Gin’s head. The snake went past the fox, through the entire length of the corridor, and into the thick pillar going along the length of the spiral staircase up onto the second floor. The stairs that Mao had been running up just seconds ago.
Gin’s jaws closed around the sturdy wood with a crunch that left no doubt of which material won.
The ceiling beam Mao perched on trembled then lurched as support for the ceiling started giving way. And beneath him Rinrin raced along the length of Gin’s body, pawpads thudding against hard white scales.
Seen from above and bathed in lantern lights as they were, Gin’s scales were almost blinding. Their iridescent sheen glowed even brighter as Rinrin’s tails dragged gouts of fire across them. It took Gin a moment to notice the heat, so thick was his hide, but when he did the snake hissed. It was like a scream of its own, only deeper and higher in pitch.
Mao leapt for another beam to keep from crashing down into the flaming pile of writhing snake. Rinrin made for his mother who had stumbled down the corridor, several paces away from the tip of Gin’s tail. She wasn’t making a lot of progress with her eyes watering up and the floor breaking beneath her feet, nor with the gaping wound in her back showing hints of bone.
Another tremble that shook Mao’s bones went through the building as Gin’s head rolled sideways in a fast twist. His body followed, a rolling attempt to try and put out the fire eating away at his scales. Rinrin felt the movement more than he saw it, and for once Gin’s size worked against him. The time it took for the roll to reach from head to tail was enough for Rinrin to notice it and leap.
The fool went up.
Mao saw the red fox leaping for a beam, desperate to get out of the way lest the scales drag him under and crush him. Gin’s body turned beneath him as Rinrin’s claws found wood to dig into. More of the corridor shredded beneath the weight of the giant snake, threatening the stability of the ceiling beams further.
Mao felt his perch giving way at the same time as he saw one end of Rinrin’s beam snap off its supports along the wall. Rinrin had his back towards him and Mao saw how the red fox’s head turned to lock onto the bend in the corridor ahead, the one his mother had just disappeared behind.
Without hesitation, Rinrin leapt for the next beam, then the next, aiming to reach the end of the corridor before it collapsed- and his mother before she could escape. Mao had little choice but to follow.
He could feel the lurch of the building as Gin’s roll finished, then the groan of a breaking foundation as the snake slithered forwards, through the wall at the back of the brothel, and around in another tight turn to face him towards the fleeing foxes.
The building was coming down on them all. Rinrin made it past the first bend of the corridor just as the ceiling fell. Mao crashed down from the beam and made a worse landing than his red-furred counterpart, rolling across the floor while the red fox skidded to catch his balance. The way the floor was starting to slope downwards told him that Gin was coming back for another round.
There was nothing left to do but run. Whether he meant to or not, the giant snake would crush anything caught beneath him in his pursuit of Rinrin. Mao ran.
Each turn of the corridor saw them closer to freedom, and every second saw the building crumbling further. Dust made Mao’s lungs clench painfully and tearing wood cut his paw pads as he raced across any foothold that would stay stable enough.
Rinrin reached the lobby first. Riarin was at the door, stumbling through it just as Mao caught up with them both. The wounds Rinrin had left along the brothel keeper’s back soaked her robe a dark red.
Rinrin let loose a victorious yip and lunged forwards. His mother heard the sound he made and turned, eyes puffed up from the irevine and tears the herb alone couldn’t have caused. Mao followed as best as he could, feeling the tremors of Gin turning the last bend of the corridor behind him.
Riarin threw herself out through the main entrance of the brothel. As the angle turned when Mao got past the receptionist’s desk, he saw her fall down on the deck. She made it halfway down the steps down onto the cobblestone path before Rinrin leapt into the air, snout split by a bloody grin.
Outside from across the street Ulven Jägare swept his hand down and his Hunters let loose a salvo of crossbow bolts that skewered the red fox before he could land on his would-be victim.
Riarin just stared, then let out a pitiful cry as her son landed next to her with a heavy thump.
Mao?
Mao just jerked to a stop, then he stared as well. Then he leapt out of the way as Gin surged past him, out the gates to screams of surprise and more crossbows being fired. Mao didn’t see the white shock on Ulven’s face as the snake’s maw opened, fangs folded backwards to lay his gums smooth, then how, without stopping, he scooped Riarin up and kept going.
The giant snake circled around the broken brothel, crushed his way through the already broken wall at the back, then returned underground from the hole he’d emerged from.
Left behind was a broken - and still crumbling building, Mao emerging from the ruins before they could swallow him, and Hunters soon to fuzz over both him and the curious people trying to enter the district after hearing all that noise.
Mao caught a glimpse of Rinrin’s dead body as the Hunter’s hauled it away. It should have hurt to see that, but a bone-deep exhaustion was quickly claiming the black fox’s senses. He let himself be carried away as the Watch arrived to help the Hunters with the aftermath.