Mao's plan to stay bedridden for a week ended with the words of mothers everywhere:

"The best way to get rid of training-ache is to move about."

One didn’t simply move about after having run at the breakneck speed Mao had gone at, not if his aching body had anything to say about it. Add the fact that it had been the small folks of legend that he’d somehow bested in a footrace. Pawrace? They’d been riding animals mostly so… Anyways, Mao felt that his achievement should earn him at LEAST a few extra hours of sleep. For at least a week.

Josei’s answer to that was a question:

What about the vättar?

Why surely they were up and at it again by now, and they'd lost the race. How proud it made her of her rascal of a son. Mao thought it was almost worth it all just to see how smug it made her to know that her son had challenged a vätte and come out on top. She’d been bragging about it to Katja as soon as she found out - and Katja had bragged right back since Tobby had been a part of the race too. Even if he’d been on the losing side.

All in all? His mother was proud. So surely he would get to be lazy for a few days and sleep until noon until his bones stopped aching.

Mao had been wondering if his challenge to the vättar had been a bit too daring, too optimistic, but as Josei had explained to Katja, Riarin, about every customer that swung into the shop, and Tulip of all people:

"They didn't steal from them. Not so much as a copper or a finger. No broken limbs either! No sickness, no curses, no strange marks or infections. If that isn't proof that the vättar approved of the ordeal, then I'll toss my story books into the river."

Right now, an equally proud Katja nodded along in full agreement, much to the dismay of the poor Hunter just trying to pay for his goods at Josei’s shop. Mao watched this from a safe distance, perched on the sofa by the fireplace way behind the business-front of the store.

It brought him great satisfaction to see one of the usually stoic and cool Hunters struggle in a losing argument against two preening old ladies. He'd made the mistake of calling Mao and Tobby's feat 'lucky' when Katja oh so discreetly mentioned it as he was listing herbs needed for the guild.

Katja was as caught up with the situation of the Hunters' Guild not accepting Mao into their ranks as Josei, but unlike the kindly and somewhat fussy medicine maker, Katja's opinions ran as hot and humming as the cookery ovens. While Josei hummed and hawed, Katja went for the proverbial knees.

"Betcha Hunter folks wouldn't have made it back in one piece as easy. Kinda makes ya wonder bout them rules of joining the guild. You’s missing out on prime talent if ya keep being this picky."

"Ma'am please, that's not a decision I make. Could I just pay for this already?"

The hunter indicated, for about the seventh time, the bundles of dried herbs Josei was tying up with string and waxed paper on the other side of the counter.

"Of course dear. Did you want a bag?"

Josei smiled and hummed and gave nothing away that this wasn't more than some pleasant chitchat. Katja planted a forearm on the counter and leaned on it to bring her face to face with the uncomfortable Hunter.

"Ya sure ya don't need some clovercup too?" Katja's smile was anything but polite.

"No ma'am, just-" the Hunter tried to stop her suggestion but it was too late. Josei instantly swung around to check her shelves.

"Oh I think I have a fresh batch here somewhere. Why didn't you say so, haha~"

Desperation shone on the Hunter's face. This was the 7th time they’d done this. His order of medicines and herbs was growing dangerously large for the budget of coins Ulven had sent him with.

"No, just the things on the list is fine. I don't need-"

"What, you don't bleed? Think you could take a vätte without wounds?" Katja continued her bullying and the Hunter watched in defeated horror as Josei disappeared around a corner of the shop to find some clovercup.

"Please, if you have complaints, take them to mister Jägare, not me. I'm just here for the herbs."

"Sure sure, but he ain't here now is he?" Katja’s face was a mask of pleasant smiles and eyes that would rip off limbs if they could do so with a glare.

" No but-"

"So I gotta make do with you."

Mao just grinned, chin rested on the palm of his hand and legs crossed over a pile of pillows. He was quite comfortable and had been lounging about watching the show for the last half hour or so. The Hunter looked ready to either cry or snap.

It would be quite bad if a fully trained Hunter decided to trade fists with Josei and Katja, for all that Katja could crack wood with her grip from the heavy work at the cookery. Katja was a fiend waiting to be unleashed, but Mao doubted the Hunter's chance against the true top guardian of Josei’s shop.

Not himself. Mao could fight but avoided it if he could - or if it wouldn't impress anyone. He sparred with the Hunters when they would indulge him, but he was nowhere near their levels of skill. Yet. So no, Mao wasn't exactly a threat in this grouping.

Tulip was.

The black rooster sat on the back of Josei's couch. His beady eyes had locked onto the Hunter from the moment he’d stepped inside the shop. It made the man sweat. Tulip on the other hand was practically purring, daring the Hunter like any other customer to start something. Mao’s thoughts echoed Tulip’s.

Do it, upset the shopkeep. One yell and Tulip will go hogwild. Raise a fist, an arm, a leg. Tulip will perch on it in an instant and then all you'll see are his spurred feet. The neighborhood kids think Tulip ate a feral dog once. Swallowed it whole when it tried to charge at him.

Mao was pretty sure that rumour was made up, but one look at the rooster could make you a believer.

Tulip lived for three things: belly rubs, good food, and pure unfiltered violence. It was in his blood.

You might say that chickens did not look so dangerous at a glance. Couldn't you just punt it? You fool. Do you know how many chickens live in Redlog? On this street alone?

And they all share a mob mentality that could make any deity’s priesthood quail.

One scream, on toot to signal the threat of violence… You couldn't stop The Horde. They'll remember your face. Or they'll share their feed with the local crows who will more than happily keep tabs on the chicken horde's marked enemies. It was good business for a mercenary crow.

The look of fear in the Hunter's eyes told Mao that he knew all this. If Tulip decided the Hunter over-stepped, then it was all over for the man. Death by angry chicken.

Katja would probably write something rude on his grave, like "didn't pay for the clovercups". The clovercups Josei was happily adding to the pile of herbs. The clovercups the Hunter hadn't ordered. The clovercups the guild didn't really need because they'd recently bought a batch at a discount from another shop.

Did the Hunter tell them that? Would mentioning a rival speed this torture up or would it seal his fate? It was only a few coppers anyways- wait silver? Oh, a large batch order- wait…

At some point Mao started to feel bad for the fellow. There would be no mercy unless he himself offered some, so Mao did just that. He took over packing the herbs up, which left Josei to barter full-time.

Funnily enough Josei wasn't as good at pushing extra wares on customers if she had to make more talk than passing comments. Katja was the front line fighter in this kind of scam, so Mao distracted her by asking how Tobby was doing.

With both Katja and Josei distracted, the Hunter made it out of the shop. He shot a grateful glance towards Mao, then ran before the ladies could yell at him to get back.

As the Hunter ran down the street and disappeared down some stairs, Katja just huffed.

"He couldn't take on a vätte. Not even one or he'd be dead."

"Could you?" Mao asked. Katja blinked.

"Me? Hell no, those little bastards scare the hell outa me."

—--------------

With the Hunter gone, there was nothing distracting Josei from chasing Mao out on an errand. Funny how pushing twice the amount of herbs on a customer than what they wanted could empty your stores like that. But not to worry, the forest is full of spring and wasn't he going on a walk to be rid of that training ache anyways?

Mao grumbled, but lightly, as he was sent out with a basket to gather whatever he could find.

The many sets of stairs and slopes one had to take to get down from their little street up on the mountain was death to Mao's legs, and by the time he was halfways down the rest of his body began protesting too. But it was either finishing the trip and resting in the forest for the day, or walking back up to get home.

Mao chose the woods.

If he filled his basket with some common herbs then he could spend the rest of the day napping in the sun. It sounded like a damn good way to spend his time really, a good lazy few hours to just lay about. He just had to make it to the forest before his body gave out on him.

A tad dramatic perhaps, but that run against the small folks really pushed him past his limits. Several of his limits. Perhaps the Hunters' respect for the small folk was well earned after all…

Despite his aching legs, ribs, arms… his everything, spring had a way of soothing him. The weather was slightly chilly but with a warm breeze sweeping shivers away. Trees were in various stages of bloom, from buds ready to burst to trees already clad in coats of green and gentle flowers. Birds chirped high in the crowns and the rustle of the wind twirling through the underbrush just barely disguised the tiny movements of hares and mice.

It was a good day to forage. An even better day to nap in the sun. Well motivated to fulfill his task as fast as possible so he could later seek out a nice spot of midday warmth, Mao set off to search the underbrush for herbs of worth.

He found bushels of harefoot hiding beneath the overhang of a tree that had grown slightly tilted. Proud stalks topped by grey-brown buds similar to a mix between wheat and corn. One could use the buds and leaves to induce vomiting, a potent way of cleansing the system of anything untowards. Or if you knew how to pull the plant up with a tight grip around the base of the plant, where small leaves clustered against the ground, then you could get the root up whole and roast it for a spicy treat. No vomiting if you cooked it through properly.

Some concentration was due for this task, enough to keep Mao knelt and distracted. The roots were stubborn. Strong enough to require no small deal of force to pull them up, yet if you pulled too quickly the roots might snap and leave you with a disappointing stump. One could use a gardening trowel to wedge the root up more carefully, but Mao hadn’t brought one.

It was as the fifth plant slowly let go of the ground with quiet snaps that a rustle caught Mao’s ears. He took it for a stray animal at first, nothing to bother him judging from the size. A larger creature would have made more sound. The second rustle changed with a cut to the sound though, a swift change in direction and speed. Mao had but a second to pause and frown, then the world tipped over as something hit him from the side.

In a flash of movement the world turned to rushing green, specks of flying dirt, and glimpses of red fur. Mao felt human hands on his shoulders and back, a light grip on his shirt even after they’d pushed him into a roll. His momentum bled out quickly, only enough for about three turns of the world before he came to a stop in a tangle of his own limbs.

His assailant leapt off him before he could get a grip on them. Silky cloth and red fur slipped through his fingers like water, warm from the sun. For a moment a mask much like his own stared back at Mao. Painted wood forming a grinning face and sly eyes. Then eyes of brown flecked by green stared back at him, framed by a face of red fur. Three familiar bushy tails rose to form playful U’s. Coupled with a play-bow, the other fox’s intent was clear.

Mao would have loved to have a go at the other Wild One. Perhaps another frenzied run through the city? Or the forest-

The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

As if reminded of his vätte induced aches and exhaustion, a fresh surge of throbbing numbness spread throughout his limbs, a warning that if he did get up and run, his body would protest the act every bit of the way.

The other fox didn’t catch this, not at first. Instead it made a gargling bark at him, jumped on the spot, then took off like the crack of a whip. Mao barely managed to raise a hand and call out before it disappeared.

“Wait-”

Alone once more. The trees rustled above as Mao sat on the ground, highly disappointed. Yet he didn’t stay alone for long. A rustle like before warned him just in time to dodge the leaping fox. It sailed past his head in a graceful arc, tails curling to brush across his throat before it landed. It turned with a cant to its head, confused as to why he wasn’t running along with it.

“Sorry.. I’m in no shape to run.” The words felt embarrassing as they left Mao’s mouth, but the other fox just circled back to inspect him.

“You don’t look injured.” It’s voice made Mao start. Just a bit deeper than his own, far smoother, and with a slight hum to the end of his words.

The red fox paused in front of Mao and sat down on its haunches. It beheld him for a moment of silent judgment, then changed in a blur of fur and shifting cloth. Mao found himself face to face with a young man around his own age, squatting with the long hem of a tattered travel robe pooling around his feet..

His skin was pale against the deep red of his hair and the dark green robe. Silk or a similarly smooth material. It would have looked rich if it wasn’t torn in places, patched clumsily. It smelled like perfume and fragrant wood.

The other fox’s hair ran flatter than Mao’s wild mane of black. It had the red of roses and deep wounds. A string of twine kept it in a very loose ponytail, just enough to keep it on the young man’s back rather than in his face.

They sat close, too close for comfort really, but the mischievous grin showing teeth on the red fox’s face told Mao that it was to get a reaction out of him. Jerking back would probably earn him a laugh, as would getting flustered and awkward. It might not impress if he got too caught on his own words though either.

So Mao stayed put, daring the other fox with a grin of his own. These were easy tricks - making a mask grin as if alive - not even worth calling a prank really. It might get a rise out of anyone else, but Mao was a bit of a pest himself at times, always eager to keep the conversation light and easy with jump or joke.

After what felt like an age of staring, the red fox gave up and let out a huff that tilted his snout upwards.

“So what’s slowing you down?”

“Training ache.” Mao answered with a grimace. “I raced a pack of vättar and won the other day.”

They were close enough that he could feel his breath brush against the other fox’s face as he spoke. It felt oddly exciting, intimate, daring.

“Oh?” The redheaded man raised a brow. A twitch of the lips tugged the corners of his mouth upwards into an impressed, half-disbelieving smirk. “That’s not an easy feat.”

Pride swelled in Mao’s chest. It must have showed on his expression because the other fox leaned back with another huff. The smile stayed though.

“So clearly you’d win if we were to race now.” The red fox quipped.

“Perhaps. But I gave it my all against the vättar.” Mao responded.

“And you wouldn’t against me?” The red fox-man tilted his head. The mask made the motion vaguely unsettling but Mao found it equally alluring.

“I would have to. You’re way faster than me.”

The compliment caused a slight flush of the redhead’s features, what little could be seen past the mask, but it pleased him. Like Mao, he puffed up with pride and satisfaction at having his skills acknowledged.

“I could hold back a little. Just for you.” The red fox offered.

“That wouldn’t be a real competition, would it?” Mao crossed his legs and sat back, feeling that pesky exhaustion still tugging at his muscles. Of all the times to be worn out… “Can’t we just talk? You’re always off in a flash. Busy times?”

That made the other fox grin again for some reason, pearly whites looking sharp in the sunlight filtering through the tree crowns above. Then he took the mask off and Mao felt his heart flutter. The other fox had an easy smile, amused eyes, and teeth that grew sharp past the canines towards the back.

“It’s not like I got any set times to follow but… yes, I like to keep busy. “

“With what?” Mao asked.

“This and that.” The redheaded stranger responded.

Mao’s dissatisfaction at the vague answer made the other fox chuckle. Then an unexpected movement made the frown on Mao’s face change to surprise. The tails from before returned into sight, yet the other man stayed in his human shape. Could they shift part-ways? Mao hadn’t known that was possible.

The other young man grinned slyly at him, preening with pride over something he knew that Mao didn’t. Yet once the wonder of seeing the bushy tails twirl and snake around each other started to grow cold, he sat down to share those secrets.

“I’ve been growing more tails. I got my third after returning to Redwood.” The red fox revealed.

Those words sent questions to hit Mao one after the other. You could grow more? Why would you do that? Return? Was this guy from Redwood too? How come they’d never met before?

“Why?” was Mao’s grand summary of all his questions. It made his face grow hot, but the other fox didn’t seem to notice. He seemed to be as taken with his tails as Mao was.

There was something captivating about their gentle swirls. They moved slowly, a gentle flow not too unlike algae waving in a stream. It almost looked as if they had a life of their own and were only indulging the two foxes with their graceful dance for the fun of it.

“Each tail comes with a power,” The red fox’s expression was distracted but his words were dreamy, yearning. “The first is always transformation. From human to fox and back. There’s more I think, but I’ve yet to figure those out.”

That pushed Mao’s other questions to the back of his mind. Powers? Did he have any too- of course he did. He could shift back and forth as he pleased. But if that was only the power of one tail then…

“What else can you do? How do you know what you get?” Mao leaned forwards, so full of curiosity that it nearly hurt.

The other man grinned knowingly at seeing his kin’s hunger to know more. One of his red tails parted from the other two. It reached forwards, long enough to wave in front of Mao’s face. Before his very eyes, the red fur sparked. Flickers of flame licked at the red fur, harmless to itself but hot to anything else. Mao wanted to touch it but the heat made his fingers pause inches away.

Noting this, the other fox retracted his tail before it could burn him. Flames continued to dance across his fur, making the red strands gleam like metal.

“Fire was my second.” The red fox tilted his chin up slightly, an unconscious movement spurred by his satisfaction of being admired like this. “A certain fellow I met by midwinter congratulated me and let it slip that you could get more.”

Mao needn't have asked ‘how?’. The question burned as brightly in his eyes as the actual fire did on the other fox’s tail. Still, it made the redhead chuckle with approval.

“By feats of strength, milestones in your life. I found my first when I accepted a mask. The second came just before midwinter.”

“What did you do?” Mao asked.

For some reason that question made the red fox look away uncertainly. He glanced back to Mao, bit his lip, then seemed to relax again. When he decided to speak again, there was trust in his words. He clearly hesitated to share them, but for kin and flattery? His wariness faded and an admission came.

“I raided a farm. Food cost more coin than I had to spare so I erh… might have stolen a few chickens here and there. I nearly got caught by a dog. I managed to kill it by sheer luck.”

Mao’s eager expression turned into a frown. He’d seen dogs before of course, but Redlog had precious few of them. No strays save for any the travelers brought and abandoned, and those were caught quickly enough once discovered. Lady Hen’s priesthood despised stray dogs since a few had gone after their flocks.

There weren’t really any breeders in the city either, at least not with a lot of fame, so dogs were a rather rare pet in these parts. Any strays that popped up tended to get handed over to people in the Farmlands who could use the extra protection for their lands and cattle.

What few Mao had met had been well loved pets. To hear that this fox killed one was a tad upsetting, even if it had been that or get torn to shreds. He doubted a guard dog would let a chicken thief go if it caught them.

The other fox didn’t catch Mao’s discomfort. He had something dreamy in his eyes again as he went on, explaining how this moment of his life had changed things.

“It’s about eating. You need to find something important. Challenging. It needs to push you.”

Mao’s discomfort grew. “You ate the dog…?” Weren’t foxes and dogs distantly related? This was starting to feel wrong.

Yat at that the other man blinked. He stared at Mao in confusion for a moment, saw the concern at last - then laughed and shook his head.

“The dog? No. Why would I eat a dog? It tried to eat me! I got a lucky hit in and ran for it. I’ve never been as scared in my life!”

The red fox let loose a slightly stressed cackle, as if remembering the fear of that moment too clearly. Yet his expression softened as he saw Mao slowly relax again. The red fox’s eyes flickered, then he chuckled lightly, a tad sadly.

“I went back for revenge, ate something good, then woke up with my second tail. Challenge, my friend. It’s about challenges. Some things give you more than others if you manage to eat it. Half the game is to get past what guards it.”

Mao recalled the moment he’d grown his own first tail. He told the other fox about it with some reluctance because the memory still haunted him at times.

All those years back when he, Joseph, and the other children from Redlog’s school had followed their teacher into the woods at night to learn magic. The elves that had been waiting for them… He told the other fox how the Hunters had found them when he’d managed to break through the unnatural silence to scream for help.

A somber mood held both young men after Mao finished his tale. The redhead admitted that elves may have been a bit worse than an angry farmer and his dog.

“But hey, at least you didn’t have to eat them! Maybe it was because of how dangerous they were… Different things have different values, I think. I get nothing from killing a rat.”

Was that a joke? Mao thought it was because the other fox laughed at it. He wasn’t quite sure if he liked how the other man talked about killing things- but then again, they both hunted.

Mao had eaten rats, frogs, even a hare once. It was probably that story about the dog that fouled the topic. A smidge too much sympathy for its owner. Mao wouldn’t go after a pet. Then again, he’d taken a chicken or two from Peak Street at night… Just because he could. Just because the way their heads bobbed and their bodies turned had made his teeth ache.

In the end, did he have any reason to judge? Not really, so he shrugged the discomfort off with some effort and felt much better almost at once. The conversation shifted to his own tail.

“Why'd it take you so long to figure out you had a tail after you got your mask?”

The red fox was surprised to hear that Mao hadn't transformed the second he'd gotten his mask. Mao remembered having no clue how to use it, let alone figuring out what it did.

“I kind of just felt it.” The red fox explained. “Same with the powers of my second tail… or maybe that was the situation. Fire was my second and I was angry when my tail split so I kind of just let it all out and bam!”

The redhead spread his hands in a mimicry of an inferno. His second tail slashed a trail of crackling fire between them both which made Mao jerk back. The other fox laughed at his reaction.

“You don't have fire, at least not yet, or this shouldn’t burn you. I could probably roll around in a bonfire without problem if I wanted to, not that I have the courage to try.” The red fox chuckled.

“Really? It doesn’t hurt you at all?” Mao was surprised to hear that and now he wanted a second tail even more.

“Not my own.” The other fox clarified. “Other fires might, but not if I concentrate. I’ve stuck my hand into fireplaces before without so much as a mark. It stings a little but that’s it.”

Mao was impressed and slightly jealous. Slightly? He was very jealous.

“What about your third tail?”

Said tail curled behind the other man for a moment, as if trying to hide. Only for a moment, then it swept out with the other two to twirl and wave like before.

“Oh this one?” The red fox turned his head sideways to inspect the tail, only glancing back towards Mao. “It’s not as impressive as fire. I can sort of daze people with it.”

“What do you mean?”

The red fox showed him.

Mao sat with equal parts confusion and anticipation as the red fox swept his tail forwards to curl around Mao’s head. It never touched him for long. A mere ghost of a touch as the longest strands of fur brushed against his cheeks, but that was it. Yet the world lost focus as it did.

Mao felt a sense of vertigo and caught himself with a hand to the ground to stay upright. He could vaguely hear the other fox talk but the words swam together into gibberish. It sounded pleasant still, a low hum in his ears.

He woke with the sky in front of his eyes and a pair of hands on the sides of his head. The other fox had moved behind him, sat down with his head in his lap, and apparently waited for however long it took for Mao to snap out of it. When he did it was with a start, a blush, and a stutter that made the other man snicker.

“Sorry sorry- wait don’t sit up yet if you’re dizzy. I didn’t think it would hit you that hard. Usually I have to do this from a distance. Didn’t know it would knock you on your ass if I did it up close. Good to know.”

Mao’s world swam for slightly different reasons now as he looked up at the other man’s face. His brown eyes were glittering with mirth. Mao found himself staring and the other fox took it as a sign that he was still dizzy, so they stayed like that for a bit.

“Hey.” Mao broke the silence after what felt like seconds and hours. Minutes more likely but his thoughts still felt a little fuzzy. “What’s your name?”

“Rinrin.”

Mao blinked. “Like Riarin?”

Like a spell, the pleasant mood broke. Rinrin grimaced and turned his head to stare ahead into the forest. “Don’t mention her. She’s my mom. We don’t get along.”

“Why not?” Mao cursed himself for asking directly after the words left his mouth. His curiosity was faster than his thoughts sometimes and it often ruined moments like these, the ones he wanted to last.

He blamed Rinrin’s magical tail. Two of them lay folded over his chest and belly, a warm blanket of fur.

Rinrin took a moment to chew his answer over and Mao almost asked again- or apologized, but Rinrin got his words out first.

“Different opinions. She never took the mask. Never got further than her first tail, if she even has one. I don’t think she wants to be Wild.”

Mao couldn’t imagine that. Why would anyone say no to being a creature full of magic and wonder? He could run like the wind, climb and jump and hunt as he saw fit. He saw in the dark as if it were day, could track any scent, and a glimpse of him could make other people gasp if they caught him flitting through the night. He liked to think that it was jealousy that made people start, or pure wonder at seeing a Wild One in the midst of delighting in being alive. It was bliss.

Riarin clearly didn’t see it that way, or her son wouldn’t be frowning like he did now. It was sad to see the wedge it had pushed between what should have been a happy family.

Rinrin caught Mao’s sad stare and smiled, sadly but determined to change the mood to something merrier.

“Want to join me on a hunt tonight? We could get you your second tail if we’re lucky.”

That made Mao sit up so fast that he nearly knocked their heads together. Was that even a question?

“Yes. Take me with you. What’re we hunting?”

“Oh you’ll see.”

Mao couldn’t wait.