ã€ŠHooves and Whiskersã€‹


 The Forest

    Trees.

    More trees.

    Althea was getting very tired of the boring old trees.

    It had been a week since she left the last remaining village on the outskirts of this forest. Surely the village had some kind of name, but to Althea, it didn¡¯t matter much. All it marked was the last vestige of civilization before heading into this forsaken forest. The locals didn¡¯t seem surprised to see an adventurer heading into the forest. What was worrying is that they didn¡¯t seem to expect her to come back out¡­

    So far, nothing seemed special about the forest. In the early morning, the light flickered through the trees. So far, the forest seemed ordinary¡ªtoo ordinary. No monsters, no rabid packs of wolves, no mysterious enchanters or fae trickery. No towering beasts ¨C at least, not to her eight-foot perspective. What was the deal with this forest? The only real danger so far seems to be wandering, lost, until dying of starvation. She had provisions for another week and at least some hunting skills.

    She occasionally came across signs of previous travelers. Long-forgotten campfires, old machete marks on the trees, and the occasional trash were all that remained. Trails seemed to fade in and out of existence as if they were tired of the forest as well. Althea¡¯s marking on trees to keep herself from going in circles dishearteningly were added to similar marks from those past travelers.

    For months, Althea has been traveling to this far edge of the world. Crossing the ocean, plains, mountains, and less annoying forests, all to get here. Here she might be able to start finding answers. Marcus had told her of an old wizard¡¯s keep, lost to time, deep in these woods. Whatever reason there was for it, or why it was out here so far, or even what wizard order it had belonged to, was lost to time.

    Althea¡¯s tail swished gently, thinking about her old friend Marcus. Ever since she was found in that ¡°orphanage¡± so many years ago, he''s been a mentor to her. He took her in, brought her to his mage hall, and raised her almost as a daughter. Even when her magical ability was non-existent, he still guided her. Studies in language, the arts, and the new sciences (which she admittedly struggled in), all to make her as well-rounded as possible. Althea always felt in the back of her mind that she needed to catch up for those lost years¡­

    A twig snapped. Althea¡¯s ears swiveled to the source of the sound, alert. Althea looked around, hand ready on her sword hilt, ready to face whatever danger was present. But she couldn¡¯t see anything.

    "Hey, hooves! Is there a height requirement to get your attention?"

    Looking down, she saw a red fox sitting smugly beside the twig he had snapped, his tail swishing like he owned the place. Red fur, a big bushy tail tipped with white, and black paws. She seemed to see a touch of gray around his muzzle.

    A talking fox?

    What kind of fae mess is this?

    Althea took her hand off her sword and peered down. "Sorry, I didn¡¯t realize squirrels started talking now."

    ¡°Squirrel? This squirrel has been following your stomping-ness for half an hour now without you noticing. What kind of adventurer are you? Those big pointy ears couldn¡¯t hear me?¡±

    Althea¡¯s face flushed mad red. Her ears were a sore subject. Centaurs all have human ears ¨C except her, and she didn¡¯t know why. ¡°Maybe I was testing you to see what you would do, thinking I was oblivious? To see what kind of cur you really are?¡± she bluffed.

    The fox snorted. ¡°Since you only jumped at the third twig I broke, I doubt that. What is a rookie like you doing lost out in my woods?¡±

    ¡°Your woods? If these are your woods, you¡¯ve got some bland taste.¡±

    Althea wondered ¨C what was this talking fox? She¡¯d been warned about fae taking animal form, trying to trick travelers into giving their names for some kind of magic contract. On the other hand, this loudmouth doesn¡¯t seem very fairy-like. She racked her brain, trying to remember her biology classes. Talking animals existed, but they were exceedingly rare and mostly found on the other side of the ocean. And she¡¯d certainly never heard of rude talking foxes in her travels.

    ¡°These woods are perfectly fine ¨C they¡¯re just not made for all that horsepower. No offense lady, but you¡¯re about as subtle as a rockslide.¡±

    Althea gritted her teeth. I know I¡¯m big, even for a centaur. At least he called me a lady¡­ ¡°Well, at least a rockslide makes an impression. What do you do, charm the trees to death? What do you want, fuzz face?¡±

    ¡°Careful horsey - this fuzzy face has sharp teeth.¡± He said, baring his teeth. Then the fox sighed. ¡°I want my perfectly lovely forest to not get stomped into a meadow by those hooves of yours. If I can help you find what you¡¯re looking for, then maybe some of my underbrush and hunting grounds can survive. What are you looking for?¡±

    Althea considered her options. She thought to herself - was this a trick? Is this annoying fuzzball a fae in disguise trying to catch her soul, or whatever it is fae do? She really regretted skipping that magical creature class now¡­ The fact is, I¡¯m lost. This stupid fox knows I¡¯m lost as well. Why bluff? What is he going to do, gnaw my ankles?

    ¡°I¡¯m looking for a lost wizard¡¯s keep. There¡¯s something there that will help my quest.¡±If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.

    He knew it. Yet another adventurer looking for the lost keep. He sighed to himself, a little disappointed. He thought this one might be different, not looking for treasure and magical loot. She¡¯s even a bit cute, he shocked himself thinking, in an eight-foot-tall, bulking behemoth horse creature kind of way. ¡°Ah yes, the keep! I can show you right away. We¡¯re only a couple hours from there. I do ask something in return, though¡±. The fox¡¯s eyes sparkled as his tone seemed to change

    Althea groaned. How long had she been circling right next to the blasted keep? ¡°Fine, what do you want, bushy-butt?¡±

    The fox feigned hurt, putting on airs. ¡°I¡¯ll have you know I have a quite lovely bushy tail, the envy of many! I just wanted to know the name of the young lady I¡¯ll be escorting to her objective.¡±

    Althea considered the request. Is this a fae, or just an annoying fox? Names are important to the fae. True names, at least¡­ True names give fae some kind of power over you. Oh well, I should be safe, she thought. ¡°Althea¡¯s the name.¡±

    ¡°Just one name? An illustrious lady like yourself surely has more.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll tell you if you tell me yours.¡±

    The fox was surprised. Adventurers never seemed to ask much about him. Use him, yes, try to catch him even, use spells to charm him as a pet, but they never asked his name. He thought for a moment.

    He stood up on his hind legs and bowed, surprising Althea. ¡°Foxey Loxey is the name, and these woods are my game.¡± He fell back to all fours, feeling that old twinge in his back. I¡¯m getting old, he thought. Too old for this game.

    ¡°You¡¯re a fox named Foxey? Really?¡± Althea laughed. ¡°Sure, why not? The way this week is going, why not meet Foxey the Fox? I probably ate some bad berries back there and I¡¯m hallucinating now. Wait, how did you just stand up like that?¡±

    ¡°What do you mean? I¡¯m a talking fox! Of course, I can stand up straight.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve never seen a talking animal before, let alone a talking fox, in my travels.¡±

    ¡°You haven¡¯t?¡± Foxey now suddenly seemed crestfallen. Althea sensed some despair, even, in him. Interesting, she thought¡­

    He perked back up, putting the act back on. ¡°You still haven¡¯t given me your last name, your horsey-ness. What proud family, or clan, or whatever it is centaurs have, do you come from?¡±

    Althea got shy for a moment. ¡°Stonehoof¡± she mumbled.

    ¡°Athea Stonehoof? A mighty warrior name indeed! Come now, let''s get moving on to the keep before it¡¯s too late in the day.¡± The fox waved her on. Althea followed, carefully, watching out for whatever other surprises the forest may give her.

    The fox led on, trotting through the underbrush and under low branches. Althea swatted away the branches trying to keep up with the little fox. The fox kept prattling on about his forest and how beautiful it was in the spring, occasionally asking Althea about herself. Althea deflected, not trusting this fox. She thought he was up to something and guarded herself, looking all around for an ambush. As she thought this, she turned her head and walked straight into a branch, letting out an impressive series of curses.

    ¡°Trouble up there, rockslide? Is the air too thin up that high up?¡±

    ¡°Shut up yip-yap. I¡¯d rather have the air up here than be down in the mud like you.¡± Athea shot back belatedly.

    ¡°Yip yap? I¡¯ll have you know that a noble creature of my stature does not ¡®yip¡¯¡±.

    ¡°Stature? I¡¯d say two feet if I¡¯m generous.¡± she retorted. I don¡¯t trust this fox, she thought, but at least he¡¯s amusing. Althea had been on the road alone for a while now. At least this fox was more entertaining than some dull villager or a bureaucrat trying to shake her down.

    ¡°How about we stop for some water? There¡¯s a nice stream nearby before we get to the keep.¡±

    Althea hesitated, still wary of trickery. ¡°Lead on, little one.¡±

    ¡°Little? I¡¯m not little, you¡¯re just too big!¡± Foxey protested. ¡°But, even if I was anywhere near your size, I¡¯m sure I wouldn¡¯t stomp around making such a racket.¡±

    ¡°Too bad we¡¯ll never find out,¡± Althea said with a smile. This little fox is feisty, she thought. That could be useful outside this blasted forest.

    Foxey led her to a small stream, running clear and cold. He knelt, lapping up water from the surface. Althea unclipped her canteen from her pack harness. Marcus had given it to her as a gift before she left on this journey. It was the latest thing, far sturdier and more convenient than a skin. She drank the water she had, then looked for a good place to approach the stream. She carefully walked down, gently stepping with her hooves to test how firm the bank was. The stream bubbled gently over smooth stones, its cold, clear water reflecting shards of sunlight that danced like fireflies. Althea knelt cautiously, the damp earth cool under her hooves.

    Just as she dipped the canteen in the water, there was a furry blur in front of her.

    ¡°Are you mad?¡±

    Foxey had spotted a fish and darted for it. He looked up at Althea with a fix in his mouth with a funny look on his face. He took it to the streamside and made short work of the fish, tearing it open and gulping it down. Althea froze, her mind wrestling with the image of the eloquent, almost arrogant fox now reduced to a primal hunter. For a moment, he didn¡¯t seem like a talking animal at all¡ªjust a beast. It was unsettling. She had just started getting used to the idea of a talking, possibly civilized fox. This was not what she expected.

    Foxey, done with his meal, looked up and shook his head. Did I just tear a fish apart and eat it in front of the centaur? Where are my wits? What would Mom say if she was still around? He remembered her old warnings of what could happen to him. He frightened himself, knowing he was losing control again. He washed himself of the blood in the stream and gathered his thoughts. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, did you want one? The carp are quite nice this time of year.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m good, fish breath. I prefer my food to be a bit more, you know, cooked. Maybe some celery salt and dill.¡± Althea pondered this little fox some more. What is going on in his fuzzy head? There seems to be far more going on with this fox than meets the eye. Althea filled her canteen while eyeing Foxey. ¡°Let¡¯s get on to the keep.¡±

    Foxey led the way again, looking back at Althea. ¡°About half an hour to go now. What are you looking for, anyway? I¡¯ve never had much interest in the place. It¡¯s just a bunch of old two-legs junk in there anyways.¡±

    ¡°Two-legs?¡± Althea questioned, unsure of the term.

    ¡°You know, you people walking around, always wanting to build things and tear down trees. Always in a rush, making messes.¡±

    ¡°You know I have four legs, right?¡±

    ¡°Details, details. You¡¯re still half two-legs where it counts¡ªup top. All brain, no sense! You only get a slight pass for your majestic hooves.¡±

    Althea thought about this as they walked. She never thought that animals might have a different view of people and their ways. Come to think of it, wouldn¡¯t this fox be a ¡°people¡±? She pondered this as they continued.

    Foxey knew they were getting near the keep. He glanced back at her, his usual spark dimmed. For once, he wasn¡¯t sure if leading her there was the right thing to do.

 The Keep

    Althea followed, fighting through underbrush and low hanging branches. Ahead of her, Foxey slipped through the underbrush with ease, while Althea wrestled with thorns that snagged on her armor and long, braided brown hair like wandering hands. She¡¯s certainly not one of the stealthier ones, he thought.

    He turned his head to look back at her, watching her struggles.  He choked back a laugh.  ¡°It¡¯s not much further now.  What are you looking for in this old ruin, anyways?  I take it this isn¡¯t just a sightseeing trip to trample my lovely forest with your big hooves.¡±  Treasure, enchanted trinkets, battles with fearsome opponents ¨C that¡¯s all these adventurers ever want.

    ¡°I have my reasons.  It¡¯s of no concern to you¡± she said guardedly.

    Foxey scoffed.  ¡°It is my concern if you cause some kind of chaos or unleash some ancient magical nonsense or start getting more two-legs coming out here messing up my forest.¡±

    She stopped, her hands clenched at her sides, glaring down at the fox. The weight of the journey pressed on her shoulders, but she wasn¡¯t about to let this infuriating creature see her doubt.  ¡°I have no desire to do any such thing...  I¡¯m just looking for some information I need and then you can have ¡®your¡¯ damn forest to yourself.  I¡¯m headed back to civilization as fast as I can to get out of this wretched green hell of yours.¡±

    Interesting, he thought.  He knew that everything of value had been long cleaned out of the keep.  Sometimes bands of adventurers came out seeking a dungeon ¨C what¡¯d they call it down there, a lich? ¨C that used to be below the keep.  Solo adventurers were usually looking for loot, but all that was left was cursed.  These wizard people that used to be here must have been unpleasant, but so many people want their old junk.  This is the third adventurer since Fall!  What information could be worth coming all the way out here without treasure or fame?  Maybe I do need to move¡­

    ¡°Well?¡±

    Foxey snapped out of his wandering thoughts as he realized she was still staring at him.  Keep it together, it¡¯s almost game time.  ¡°I apologize, my fair equine lady!  Let¡¯s get you that information so you can escape this ¡®green hell¡¯ I call home.¡±

    The fox continued forward, slipping through a dense blackberry hedge in their path.  Althea fought through it, using her sword as a machete to hack through.  Once on the other side, she found herself on a clear trail with the keep just a hundred yards away.

    ¡°@#$%!¡± she cursed out of exasperation.  ¡°Are you telling me there was a trail here the whole time?¡± Her voice was low, dangerously so.

    ¡°Always has been.  I was wondering why you were so far from it.¡± he chuckled softly, then thought better of it.  ¡°I figured you were enjoying the sights and sounds of nature.¡±  Dreadfully lost, Foxey thought.  There¡¯s no way she¡¯s a professional adventurer.  At least their guild sends them with maps at least ¨C I¡¯ve found enough to know.

    Althea sighed and shook her head.  ¡°Let¡¯s just get this over with.¡±  She trotted down the trail past Foxey to the ruined open gate of the keep.  Foxey silently watched as she went by, her chainmail and tack jingling on her relatively new looking armor, tail swishing at flies trying to get under her barding.  She looked proud, but not arrogant.  Not malicious like the usual lot that came through.

    Who is this? he thought.  Not a professional adventurer, not a looter, yet well equipped.  She¡¯s even put up with my schtick.  She¡¯s young, but not particularly na?ve.  She probably would just leave when she finds whatever she¡¯s looking for.  That¡¯s not my choice though¡­

    Foxey sprinted down the trail to catch up with her.  ¡°Wait up!  I want to help you with your quest.¡±

    ¡°Why? To get me out of your fluff faster?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve been wandering around this old dump for years.  I¡¯m sure I¡¯ve seen whatever is you¡¯re looking for.¡±  Foxey thought for a moment, ¡°And you seem like an alright kind of person to help out.¡±

    Althea¡¯s face relaxed, looking at the fox with her soft brown eyes.  ¡°Thank you.  And¡­ I¡¯m sorry for calling you¡¯re home a ¡®green hell¡¯.¡±  Then smirking, she continued ¡°It¡¯s probably all a fuzzball like you knows.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re right ¨C I¡¯ve never left the forest,¡± he said wistfully, looking away from her.

    ¡°Never?¡±

    In a somber tone he remarked, ¡°Born and raised right here.¡±  Althea thought he seemed lost in memories, then he perked himself up.  ¡°Why would I ever leave?  This forest is great!  The world outside surely can¡¯t compare.¡±

    Althea wasn¡¯t so convinced.  Guardedly, she says ¡°Sounds like you at least have a family to keep you company.¡±

    That got a response from the fox, looking back up at her with slitted eyes.  ¡°No, not anymore,¡± he said through clenched teeth.

    Althea decided to leave that alone.  There¡¯s nothing out here but trees.  I¡¯d be bored to madness out here alone.  How long has he been out here?

    The two strode onward, up to the gate of the keep.  The keep had seen far better centuries.  In its prime, the structure wasn¡¯t particularly grand, but solid, serving whatever purpose it had in the past.  The broken ramparts loomed like teeth with a questionable dental history.  The crumbling walls and twisted vines, looking like varicose veins, opened into a ruined, rotted old gate.  The air was thick with the smell of dampness and mold.

    ¡°Looks like this saw fireballs in the past,¡± she said, looking up as they went under the archway.  ¡°You can still see the scorches where it¡¯s been protected from the weather.¡±

    She knows what wizard fireball scorches look like, but doesn¡¯t see the tracks on the ground?  the fox wondered.  Those footprints are from today. They¡¯re nearby.

    Walking into the courtyard, her horseshoes scraped on the ancient flagstones making an unpleasant noise, putting the fox¡¯s ears back.  ¡°Are those always so loud?  Is there an off switch for those clompers, or do we just embrace the fact that everything in a mile radius knows you¡¯re here?¡±

    Thinking about this, Althea dug into her pack, pulling out what looked like rubber hooves.  She set them on the stone of the courtyard, then stepped each hoof into one.  Lifting one hoof again, she stomped it down in an exaggerated clop.  With the rubber overshoes, there was barely any noise at all.  ¡°Is that better for those sensitive ears, fuzz-face?  We wouldn¡¯t want the rats to hear me stomp-stomping around¡± she said, rolling her eyes.

    Foxey was impressed.  She came prepared at least; he mused.  Physically, if not quite mentally.  Putting his ears back again, he said with an exaggerated grimace ¡°That is a lot better, Rockslide.  If you¡¯ll excuse me for a moment, though, I have something to attend to.  That carp isn¡¯t sitting too well if you know what I mean.  I¡¯ll catch back up ¨C the library is on the left, through that second archway.  If you want information, that¡¯s where it would be.¡±

    He scurried off, up treacherous old stairs leading to the ramparts.  ¡°Serves you right for gobbling that carp down, fish breath!¡± she yelled as he ran off.

    Looking around, Althea took in the sight.  Old, worn flagstones wound paths through the courtyard.  Remnants of an old stone fountain stood in the center, with collapsed benches around.  The paths surrounding the fountain wound in curious loops, tracing what looked like a sigil.  Marcus would know what this meant, she sighed.  She wished her mentor could be with her.  So far, the only company she¡¯s had on this journey is hassle from tax collectors, unwanted inept flirting in taverns, and now a rude, colicky critter.  Thinking of Marcus helped to focus her on her quest.  He said there should be valuable information here.  The old order that built this place were meticulous with record keeping.  Seeing the archway the fox described, she carefully walked on the flagstones across the courtyard, avoiding the tall grass.  There are probably snakes in the grass, knowing how this has gone so far.

    Foxey watched from the ramparts as she stepped her hooves high around the grass between the flagstones, right hand on her sword hilt.  Fine muscles she has, he thought absentmindedly.  Too bad that armor covers so much.  I wonder what¡¯s under there¡­ He shook his head, remembering what he was up there to do.  Once he was sure she wasn¡¯t looking towards him, he carefully gripped an old beam with his paws, muscles struggling to raise it into the designated position like so many times before.  He silently padded down back into the courtyard, then made more noise as he crossed the square as she approached the doorway.

    ¡°Back from your carp cramps already?¡±

    ¡°Um, yeah, feeling a lot better now¡± speaking uneasily, rubbing his ear and neck with his right paw.  ¡°Perhaps you¡¯re right about taking the time to cook.¡±

    Althea stooped down under the arch, peering into the dark doorway.  The door had undoubtedly been smashed long ago.  ¡°Short humans, never building things tall enough,¡± she muttered, carefully walking inside the corridor.  As she stepped through, she banged her head on a beam as she straightened back up.  Unpublishable curses followed.This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

    ¡°Having problems up there, tall stuff?¡± he laughed, flicking his tail.

    Rubbing her head gingerly, she snapped at the fox ¡°You call it bumping my head. I call it a perspective problem you¡¯ll never have.¡±

    Looking down the corridor, Althea could see several doorways on each side before it all faded to darkness.  Rummaging through yet another pack on her side, she found a candle in a holder.  At least being a centaur gives you lots of cargo capacity.  Using a sulfur match she lit the candle, providing some flickering illumination in the gloom.

    Foxey was already further down the corridor, past where Althea could see, even with the candle.  He turned to look at her with his now glowing eyes.  ¡°From my perspective, there¡¯s plenty of light.  You can¡¯t see in a little dark?¡±  Shaking her head wordlessly, she followed him, wary of whatever dangers ¨C or ceiling beams ¨C may lie in her path.

    Faded exhibits still hung in places on the wall, along with mostly empty nooks inset in the stone.  Some of the displays seemed to warn of workplace safety ¨C one read ¡®PRAY THEE CAST FIRE WITHIN THE DESIGNATED ZONES!  Lest thy flame mar the tapestries or roast thy fellows.¡¯  Another read ¡®If thy potion goeth awry, let the logbook tell thee why!¡®  Intact doors blocked off mysteries she didn¡¯t want to explore.  Being taken in and raised by wizards taught her a solid appreciation to not muck about with the refuse they left behind.  Losing your eyebrows for a month from an explosion makes an impact on a teenage girl.

    Around the corner, the corridor widened to a set of double doors, one barely hanging from ancient hinges.  Foxey turned, standing up on his hind legs again, and pointed his ¨C thumb!? ¨C at the entranceway.  ¡°There¡¯s a bunch of dusty old boring dry books in there.  Be careful with that candle, thunder hooves ¨C we don¡¯t want to burn the place down.¡±

    ¡°Hold up,¡± said Althea, bending down to take a closer look at the fox in the dim candlelight.  ¡°You have thumbs?¡±

    Foxey wiggled his right paw, showing off far greater flexibility and dexterity than a paw had any right to have.  It was like a little furry hand that looked like a normal fox paw when not being flexed.  ¡°*sigh* I¡¯m just that amazing.¡±

    ¡°Great,¡± she muttered.  ¡°Here I am trying to find this book and do my quest while being distracted by a cursed fox.  Going great, Althea.¡±  Ducking her head, she entered the library, peering at the dusty shelves in the dim light.  Old, filthy windows let in light from far above, supplemented by an ominous soft glow coming from some of the books, pulsing like heartbeats.  One of the books, chained to a pedestal, gave a slight rattle as she carefully stepped by, placing each hoof with care watching for signs of traps.  Althea felt like the glowing books were watching her.  The air in the library was thick with the scent of mildew and faint traces of burning oil as if the ghosts of old lanterns still lingered. Shadows flickered oddly in the dim light, playing tricks on her eyes.

    Cursed fox, he thought to himself sadly as he followed, back on four legs.  He rubbed his back in that old spot that always knotted up when he stood on his hind legs.  Dad told me stories of the old days when our kitsune ancestors were feared and adored. All that history, and here I am - just a ¡®cursed¡¯ fox alone in a forest no one cares about.  The only reason anyone ever comes here is this blasted keep.  Why am I trying to show off for this girl?  She¡¯s just another adventurer looking for fame or fortune.  She¡¯s probably about to get herself cursed in here messing with some magic tome.  She¡¯ll be frozen into a statue, transformed into a bug, or locked in some parallel dimension like that dwarf last year.  He was so lost in thought that he walked straight into her hind left leg.

    ¡°So much for that dark vision, fuzz brain.¡±

    He looked up at her, her body towering above him as she looked back and down at him, stepping her hoof forward, away from him.  Her tail swished slowly in annoyance, one ear swiveled backward, the other staying forward¡ªan unsubtle hint that Foxey had crossed a line.  ¡°Haven¡¯t you ever heard of personal space?  Do they not teach that in the woods?¡±

    Foxey¡¯s ears drooped, folding against his head as he glanced away, tail tucked between his legs. ¡°I was lost in thought.  I didn¡¯t mean to upset you,¡± he mumbled.

    Shaking her head, she looked back at the shelves.  Foxey noticed that they were deep into the library, past all the tantalizing magic tomes.  The air was permeated with the smell of mildew and old paper.  A sign hung overhead; its surface worn smooth over time. The words ''Scholarly Treatises and Research Periodicals'' glimmered faintly, written in the precise, meticulous strokes of a long-dead scribe.

    Foxey blinked in surprise as Althea reached for a thick journal, its leather binding cracked but intact, with pages brimming with diagrams and tightly packed text. ¡°What are you doing?¡± he asked, watching as she blew a cloud of dust off the cover.

    ¡°Looking for answers,¡± she said simply, flipping through the annotated pages with a practiced hand, squinting at the text.  ¡°Not everything worth finding glows or hums, you know.¡±

    Frowning, she put the book down.  Reaching back into her pack, she pulls out a set of spectacles with a clip in the middle. I hate wearing these things.  Such a fierce centaur warrior with nearsightedness?  Placing them on her nose, she gives another sharp look at Foxey.  ¡°Not a word¡±, she hissed.

    Foxey stood silent, taking a step back, tail twitching.  Ignoring the obvious (albeit cursed) loot?  What kind of adventurer is this?  I¡¯ve seen dozens of treasure-seekers scour this place, their eyes gleaming at glowing orbs and cursed trinkets. None of them had ever given these dusty tomes a second glance. What kind of adventurer wastes time with boring old books? He continued to watch, laying down in a comfortable position, as she combed the shelves.  Althea muttered to herself, frustrated, as she went from book to book, not finding what she was looking for.  He noticed that she seemed to be ignoring the lower shelves.  With her impressive height, centaur physiology seemed to be a challenge when reaching the bottom shelves.

    ¡°Need a shorter perspective? I could save you the trouble of crushing those shelves under those hooves.¡± said the fox.

    Annoyed, she started to respond curtly, then paused to reconsider, glaring down at him, spectacles slipping slightly. ¡°Can you even read, fuzzy?¡±

    ¡°How rude!  Of course, I can read.  What do you think I am, some ignorant animal?¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± she replied.

    Foxey¡¯s ears flattened, his pride clearly wounded. ¡°For your information, I¡¯ve read more books than most two-legs have hairs on their heads.¡± He sat up straighter, tail flicking, chest puffed up. ¡°I¡¯m practically a scholar."

    ¡°Then put that scholarly nose to use and find me some useful research,¡± she said, exasperated.

    ¡°Research about what?  Stereotypes and discrimination against the small?¡±

    ¡°About centaurs.¡±

    Puzzled, the fox tilted his head.  ¡°You are a centaur.  Don¡¯t centaurs know about centaurs?¡±

    ¡°Not about my kind of centaur.¡±

    ¡°Your kind of centaur?  The rude kind?  I¡¯m sure your parents could explain that¡± said the fox, looking at her amusedly.

    Even more annoyed now, Althea takes a deep breath, then starts again, staring at the aggravating fuzzball. ¡°You¡¯re assuming I ever had parents.  Either help or get out of my way.¡±

    With that cryptic answer, Foxey decided to not push any further.  Never had parents.  How can someone not ever have had parents?  She didn¡¯t say they were gone ¨C but that they didn¡¯t exist.  No parents and centaurs don¡¯t know what ¡®kind¡¯ she is. Foxey¡¯s tail twitched uncomfortably. There¡¯s more to this centaur than she was letting on.  Or that she even knows.  Foxey started down the shelves, looking for any books that seemed promising.  As he found books that seemed promising, he would work them out of the shelf with his paws onto the floor so he could flip through the pages.  The big tomes were difficult for him to move around, but he was determined to not get jokes from the centaur.

    As they searched, Althea exclaimed ¡°Aha!  Found it!¡±  She held up a decayed old volume for Foxey to see - ¡®The Convergence of Forms: Preliminary Studies in the Synthesis of Living and Other Essences¡¯.  Her fingers traced the faded title. The air felt heavier, her chest tightening with both hope and dread. What if this book had answers she wasn¡¯t ready for?  Or if it was just another dead end?  Hoppe and fear of disappointment battled in her chest.

    Althea¡¯s heart pounded as she stared at the title. This was it¡ªa step closer to understanding my origin.  Taking the book to a nearby table, she opens it, looking to find some details to help her on the way.  The fox left the book he was going through ¨C ¡®The Bestiary of Enigmatic Entities ¨C and hopped up on the table to see what she was looking at.  As Althea went through the book, she found densely packed pages, filled with diagrams and handwritten notes in a meticulous script. The illustrations were strange¡ªtwisting, almost grotesque depictions of creatures that seemed to straddle the line between human and animal.

    The book ended abruptly with the line: ¡®Conclusive experiments moved to ***REDACTED*** under the directive of the Research Committee.  All further research is classified to be stored at ***REDACTED***.   This volume contains only preliminary findings.¡¯  The redacted letters had a faint glow, showing there was more than just some ink involved.

    ¡°Son of a @#$%!¡± she cried.  Why did these damn old wizards have to be so secretive?  Why is it trying to find where I come from so difficult?  What were those old bastards doing?  Calming down, she says aloud ¡°This will get me closer.  I¡¯ll have to get help from Marcus about this.¡±  Marcus had always been the one to guide me, to help me make sense of the world. If anyone could unravel these mysteries, it was him.  She wraps the old book in some cloth and carefully puts it in her pack.  The sun outside the dirt-stained windows is getting low in the sky.  I don¡¯t want to be around this keep when night falls.  Who knows what might come out of the shadows?  Putting away her glasses and grabbing her candle, she looks at Foxey perched on the table.  ¡°You¡¯ll be rid of me now.  You can have your glorious forest to yourself and scarf down as many fish as you want in peace.¡±

    As Althea excitedly trotted off down the aisle towards the exit, Foxey watched with growing panic.  She¡¯s harmless.  She isn¡¯t like all the others.  He wanted to turn away, to pretend she was just another adventurer passing through. But the look in her eyes when she found that book¡ªshe wasn¡¯t here for glory. And that was what scared him most.  But how can I stop this?  Foxey scurried after her, ignoring the twinge in his back.  ¡°Wait up!  I¡¯ll escort you out.  I¡¯ve got to make sure you don¡¯t bumble around and get lost again.¡±

    Giving him some side-eye, Althea said ¡°Sure¡­ little fuzzball¡¯s going to keep me safe.  Fine. Tag along if you want, fuzzball. Just don¡¯t slow me down.¡±  She was going too quickly in the dark corridor, overconfident.  Foxey struggled to keep up.

    ¡°You sure you¡¯re in such a rush to leave?  There might be more useful information here.¡±

    ¡°Marcus told me that this was the best I could hope to find here.  Everything else that¡¯s left of value by now would be booby-trapped or cursed.  I¡¯ve got to get this to him to find out the next clue.  He can figure out what¡¯s under that redacted line!¡±

    She¡¯s excited, too eager.  So young and hopeful he thinks mournfully.  She sure puts a lot of stock in this Marcus guy.  Wherever he is, he can¡¯t help her now.  Approaching the sunlit doorway to the courtyard, the smell hit him first¡ªacrid, pungent, unmistakable. Foxey¡¯s fur bristled as he glanced ahead, ears twitching, hearing the faint sound she was not paying attention to.  His paws were itching with the need to act.  Centaurs must have just as bad a sense of smell as the two-legs.  His stomach is churning, but not from the low-quality fish.  She wasn¡¯t like the others. She wasn¡¯t here for greed or fame. Foxey shook his head. No, he couldn¡¯t let this happen¡ªnot again.  I can¡¯t let this happen!

    As she trotted along, she turned towards the fox.  ¡°So, let me get this straight.  Are you sticking with the story that you¡¯re a fox named Foxey?  Foxey the Fox?  You¡¯d have to have the most unimaginative parents in the history, of, well ¨C ¡°

    As Althea ducked down to get through the arch to the courtyard, he knew it was now or never.

    ¡°Althea - watch out!¡±

 Against the Odds

    Chapter 3:  Against the Odds

    ¡°Althea - watch out!¡±

    At the fox¡¯s cry, Althea still stooped over, stepped back from the archway, about to chide the fox for avoiding her questions about his clearly fake name.  Before she could utter a word, she heard the hiss of a huge, rusty old scimitar splitting the space in the courtyard she had been about to occupy.  In a well-practiced motion, she quickly grabbed her sword with her right hand, making a rapid jab around the corner of the arch into the courtyard.  Hearing a bellow, she knew she had made an impression on her would-be ambusher.

    Looking down at the terrified fox, she yelled ¡°What¡¯s another way out of this corridor?¡±

    Foxey was frozen, petrified at what had happened.  Did they hear me?  Why did I get up this morning?  I knew I should have stayed in bed today!

    Hearing angry, but not mortally wounded roars of curses from the courtyard, she shouted again at the fox. ¡°Snap out of it!  What¡¯s another way out of here?¡±

    ¡°Uh¡­ Um¡­ back down the hallway, to the left.  There are some stairs leading to the ramparts,¡± the fox stammered.

    Great, human stairs.  With no other particularly good options, she took the opportunity.  ¡°Come on, fluffy!¡± she exclaimed as she galloped back through the corridor, away from the courtyard, ducking to avoid the low beams and arches in the dark passage.

    She wants me to come along.  An adventurer wants me around, not in a cage?  He felt a mixture of disbelief and a strange hope he hadn¡¯t felt in years.  Snapping out of his amazement and terror, he sprinted to catch up with her.  ¡°It¡¯s just up ahead.  Big, wide stairs, big enough for you even.¡±

    Barely making out the turn in the dark, Althea tried to make it quickly, but that much mass didn¡¯t turn on a dime.  Skidding on her rubber overshoes still on her hooves, she ran into the far wall, knocking her breath out.

    Seeing the centaur stumble, Foxey felt terrified again.  ¡°C¡¯mon, you can do it!  The stairs to the ramparts are just ahead!¡±  He ran ahead, beckoning to her frantically.

    Althea, wheezing from the impact, pushed forward.  Thank God I didn¡¯t break a leg doing that.  Galloping in here ¨C what was I thinking?  Seeing the fox ahead, she unsteadily stepped forward, then gradually got to a trot again.  ¡°These better be wide stairs!  This better not be a trick fuzzball!

    A trick thought Foxey nervously.  You have no idea, lady.

    Following the fox through another doorway, Althea was relieved to find an open room, full of discarded old furniture and¡­ some bones.  The late day¡¯s sun shone through broken old windows high above.  In this forgotten foyer, a large stone staircase curved upwards.  Foxey ran up the stairs halfway, turning to urge her on.  Unsure at first, Althea heard loud crashing noises coming from the corridor she had just vacated.  Up I go! She stepped carefully, trying to get up the stairs as quickly as she could without breaking an ankle, grasping the remains of the banister as she ascended.

    Bipeds make this look so easy! The stairs were too steep, the ceilings too low.  Each crumbling step was a reminder to her that this place meant for her.  Feeling too big, too cumbersome, she didn¡¯t belong in a world designed for humans.  She could hear, clear as yesterday, the jeers she used to get.  ¡°Look out! The horse-girl¡¯s about to trip again!¡±  "Clumsy Clodhopper strikes again!"

    The taunts rang in her head as she stumbled up the crumbling stairs. ¡°Don¡¯t fall, Clodhopper!¡± one boy¡¯s voice mocked from years ago. She gritted her teeth, shaking off the memory.  I¡¯m not that awkward teen anymore, she told herself, hooves unevenly stepping on the crooked stone, her balance faltering.  Gritting her teeth, she knows, I WILL prove them all wrong!

    Foxey felt torn, pitying the centaur trying to get up the stairs, but horrified of what was coming.  Looking her in the eyes from the stairs above, face twisted in fear, he whispered ¡°I¡¯ll distract them.  Get to the top, go forward about fifty yards, then to the left.  That will get you outside.  There¡¯s an old ramp where they used to move things up to the ramparts.  It¡¯s walled off so you can¡¯t see it from the courtyard.  That will get you back to ground level near the entrance we came in.¡±

    Face strained with determination, she had a sudden look of gratitude for the fox.  ¡°Thank you,¡± she whispered back. ¡°Now go!¡±.

    Foxey ran down the stairs, giving a wide berth to her legs as she continued up the stairs slowly.  Bounding into the foyer, he ran into the corridor to the library.  Looking up, he saw the ogre, smashing his way in frustration through the tight corridor.  Tall, wide, and far more muscles than brain - your basic ogre.  His greasy hair and beard hung down, unkempt and displaying bits of past meals, adding to the foul smell.  His dirty tan hide was covered with tattered cloth and clinking bits of old armor, trophies of past conquests.  Isn¡¯t that the one they call Throggar?  Bloggar?  Something like that?  I¡¯ve got to act cool.

    ¡°Hey there buddy, it¡¯s alright!  You don¡¯t want to bring the whole place down on us.¡±

    Stopping to eye the fox with distrust, lowering his scimitar towards the fox menacingly, the ogre snarled, ¡°Don¡¯t tempt me, snack. I¡¯m NO buddy!  Where¡¯s big horsey girl?¡±

    Trying to keep it calm and collected, he pointed behind himself.  ¡°Just down the hall, past the big room.  She went to the left, towards the big storeroom under the stairs.  She¡¯ll be nice and trapped in there, in the dead end.¡±  The fox tried letting out a little strained laugh.  ¡°Just another dumb adventurer.¡±

    Foxey stood up, flattening himself against the wall, holding his breath and trembling as the hulking ogre passed him, grotesquely chuckling to himself. ¡°Horsey girl for dinner tonight!  And fox snack if fox doesn¡¯t keep deal!¡±

    ¡°Heh, yeah, that¡¯s right!  We have that deal!  I never let you guys down!¡±  He watched as the ogre, pleased with himself, sauntered on towards the storeroom.  I¡¯ve got to get out of here!  Foxey sprinted down the corridor, back to the courtyard.  The sun was getting low in the sky, casting worrisome shadows deep into the courtyard.  There were two more ogres he could see, waiting for directions from their brother, back at the main entrance from outside.  To think that he¡¯s the brains of this operation!  One busted ambush and the other two are just about lost.  Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.

    Foxey scurried through the shadows, back up into the inner ramparts on the far side of the entrance.  Watching through the rubble, he waited for Althea to emerge from the ramp.  I could get out of here any time, he thought sadly, but her only way out was through that gate.  She could maybe take those two idiots, but not all three.  Who am I kidding? She¡¯s a rookie ¨C she¡¯s toast.  In despair, the fox looked down at his paws, going through his same old litany.   Why should I care?  It¡¯s just another stupid adventurer.  They deserve their fate, coming to pillage old ruins and terrorize my forest.  Adventurers took everything from me ¨C why shouldn¡¯t they suffer?  But he knew, deep down, this one was different.

    As he watched, Althea peeked around the crumbling wall at the base of the ramp, both swords out, stepping warily.  Unfortunately for her, the ogres spotted her first.  With a roar, the two ogres ran towards the centaur, rusty old weapons in hand.  One had a broadsword, looking a bit puny in the ogre¡¯s big right hand, and the other a great old battle axe.  As they charged, Althea steeled herself, taking her stance, thinking of what she was taught.  Ogres generally don¡¯t plan ¨C they go for the kill.  They use their mass and strength to make up for their lack of brains.  They have no form, no training.  They¡¯re not used to opponents big and strong like me ¨C they just see a big girl or a weird horse.  Not Althea Stonehoof!

    As the two ogres charged, side by side, she held her ground until the last moment, then jumped to the side, in the direction of the ogre with the broadsword, swinging her swords as she moved in an arc.  She caught the surprised ogre with a deep slash to his side as he tried to adjust.  His brother, trying to correct, attempted a pivot and a mighty swing of his broadaxe.  The haft of his weapon smacked the first ogre on his right elbow, causing an angry roar.

    Good thing ogres also have not-so-funny bones, she thought.  Taking advantage of his distraction, she struck again, slashing the ogre¡¯s left arm, thick green ichor spurting out.  Enraged, the ogre swung wildly, with Althea skillfully parrying, stepping to the side to give herself room.  There¡¯s got to be at least one more ¨C the one inside must not be back out yet.  With a touch of worry, she wondered what if they got the little fox?  He¡¯s fast, but not so bright.

    Battling the ogre with the sword, she got her chance.  The ogre wasn¡¯t used to such a strong opponent.  Althea knocked the sword out of his hand, then, with a swift turn, did a 180 and kicked the ogre square in the chest with both rear hooves.  This knocked the ogre down, falling onto his brother behind him.  Continuing her swing through the arc, she faced the ogre again, leaned down, and slashed the shocked ogre¡¯s throat.

    Foxey watched from the ramparts, amazed at the sight.  Maybe she¡¯s not such a rookie¡­  She certainly has heart, but she did fall straight into their trap, not on guard at all.    With sadness, he thought, My trap.  I¡¯m no better than these ogres.  He jumped back, shaking, thinking of all the people he had led to their demise, years of memories flooding his mind.  It doesn¡¯t matter what was done to me, or how these looters treated me afterwards ¨C it¡¯s no excuse.  Whether from the dangers of these cursed old ruins, or the ogres, their blood is on my paws.  I¡¯m guilty.  Shaking, he looked up to see Althea still fighting.  The second ogre, though wounded, was putting up more of a fight with his brother dead.  Foxey could see a long gash on Althea¡¯s side as well, and her right arm was limp as she continued to fight with her left.  But what can I do now?  Throggar, or Frogger, or whatever his name is, is going to figure out I lied to him.  His clan knows where I live.  I¡¯m a dead fox!

    Shaking his head, Foxey thought that he deserved it.  But she doesn¡¯t deserve this.  Maybe I can make a difference this time.  No more innocent blood on these paws!  He got up, shaking away the self-loathing, and started bounding across the ramparts, circling around near Althea, staying in the shadows above.  Peering down, he saw right as Althea made the killing blow, dispatching the second ogre.

    Breathless, wounded, and bleeding, she collapsed to the ground, dropping her remaining sword.  Her chest was heaving, trying desperately to catch her breath. That¡¯s it, she thought.  I just need to catch my breath, then I can look for the other one.  Catch my¡­ the world started going black around Althea, woozy, trying to focus her eyes.

    The fox watched in horror as he saw the final ogre slowly creeping along the wall.  He¡¯s the smart one.  He¡¯s going to come up right on her.  She¡¯s in no condition to keep fighting.  He¡¯ll kill her for sure!

    Desperate, he tried to come up with a way to help.  If I yell to her, he¡¯ll hear me, and she¡¯ll still be too weak to fend him off.  Even if I attacked him directly, what could I do?  Bite his ankles?  He¡¯s way bigger than a fish or a vole.  Looking around, he looked at the rubble on the ramparts.  There was one particularly large block precariously leaned up on another at the edge.  With a flash of insight, Foxey grabbed an old iron bar.  He¡¯s almost right below me¡­  Watching from above, he watched the sneaking ogre.  Just as Throggar drew near, Foxey jammed the bar between the stones, and with all his strength, praying in desperation, he pried the stone free, sending it tumbling.

    Hearing the disturbance, both the ogre and Althea looked up just in time to see the large block crash down squarely on Throggar¡¯s head, face filled with sudden rage without time to yell.  The ogre crumpled to the ground, lifeless.  Foxey and Althea locked eyes for a moment, hers clearly in pain.  He dashed down from the ramparts among the broken stones to get to her.  Approaching, he could see she was in bad shape.  Bruised and bloodied, she¡¯d fought like hell.  Slashes on her right arm and flank seeped blood, while a deep gouge in her front armor suggested a deeper wound lay under.  Her right arm hung useless as she grabbed onto the stones in the wall with her left to slowly stand back up.

    Looking into the fox¡¯s eyes in the setting sunlight, she says, still panting: ¡°Took you¡­ long enough, fuzz brain.  I was about to have to do all the work.¡±  Gingerly taking a step to test her hoof, she continued. ¡°You¡¯ve got some work to do to catch up to me.  We¡¯re two and one now.¡±

    Fearful, expecting condemnation for his actions in the keep, he froze.  We?  She doesn¡¯t know!  As this dawned on him, the more immediate concern returned.  ¡°We¡¯ve got to get out of here.  Fast.  These oafs aren¡¯t alone ¨C there¡¯s a whole clan of ogres that come through this area.  They¡¯ll be looking for their kin.¡±  Thinking for a moment, he remembered.  ¡°And they know where I live!  They¡¯ll, uh, see my paw prints and come after me as well!¡±

    Althea looked at him skeptically as she carefully bandaged her arm, struggling to regain her composure.  ¡°These louts will know specifically that a loudmouth fox killed their kin and come for your burrow?  Really?¡±  She continued to gather her gear.  Slowly stopping to loot the ogres, she found nothing worth taking while lost in thought.  I almost died.  These ogres would have gotten me for good without this annoying fuzzball saving my hide.  I¡¯ve got to focus more.  I can¡¯t finish the mission if I don¡¯t tighten up my act. Wincing at the pain in her side as she checked the corpses, she had to stop.  I¡¯ve got to take this armor off and see how bad this is.  I¡¯ll be septic within days if I don¡¯t treat this.

    ¡°Let¡¯s just say my reputation precedes me.¡±  Please buy it, don¡¯t think about it further.

    As the pair approached the gate, the centaur limping, crashing noises could be heard in the woods, along with the boisterous noise of ogres.

    In hushed, fearful tones, the fox continued.  ¡°I know a game path off to the side that they don¡¯t.  It¡¯ll be tight, but you can get through.  We need to rush out of here!  I know just where to go!  Come on, Rockslide!  You¡¯ve got to!¡±  His eyes were pleading, looking up at the bruised and battered centaur.  You¡¯ve got to make it.

    With that, in the waning twilight, the two left the gate of the keep and went straight into the woods.  Foxey led Althea into the darkening night, praying that they¡¯ll escape in time.

 Shelter in the Night

    The fox led Althea down the dark path, calling to her in hushed tones as she fell further behind.  The narrow game path was plenty wide for a little fox, but a challenging gauntlet of branches and exposed tree roots for an eight-foot-tall centaur in the dark.  Her hoof steps were uncertain on the unseen ground, breath labored with the pain of her battle wounds.  Invisible tree branches reached out for her, snagging on her armor and snapping off.

    *thwack*snap*

    ¡°Come on!  We¡¯ve got to hurry!¡± he hissed in the dark.

    *thwack* as another tree limb hits Althea in the face.

    Balling up her fists in rage, she snapped ¡°Not all of us can see in the dark!  You¡¯re going to get me killed before those ogres even have a chance to catch up!¡±

    Foxey paused, amazed at how stern a whispered yell can be.  Looking up at her in the star-lit night, he pondered.  ¡°How else can I guide you?  I¡¯m down here, and you¡¯re all the way up there, your tallness.¡±  I¡¯ve got to get home.  There¡¯s too much¡­ I can¡¯t leave it all behind.  But I can¡¯t leave her behind either ¨C that attack was my fault.  I¡¯ve got to start doing something right with my life!

    ¡°How much further to where we¡¯re going?¡±

    ¡°At my pace, ten minutes.  Yours¡­ you¡¯re going to be ogre stew.¡±

    Althea sighed, then winced at the pain that caused.  Now I see why Wendell put me through all those blindfold drills in combat training.  I can¡¯t see a thing, but this annoying fuzzball can.  Staring down at the fox¡¯s glowing eyes peering from the murky night, her ears twitching in annoyance and pain, she knew what she had to do. Time to suck it up, buttercup. Through gritted teeth, came the last thing a proud centaur ever wanted to say: ¡°Hop on my back.¡±

    ¡°What?¡± cried the fox in disbelief.

    ¡°Jump up here and guide me through the dark, from my level.¡±  I can never let anyone know about this.  I may have to kill this damn fox when this is all said and done.

    The fox was stunned by this. Jump up, standing on someone¡¯s back, whispering directions?  That¡¯s¡­ disturbingly close.  His ears pinned backed, tail wrapped around himself, shuddering.  Looking up at her in the faint light, he had a revelation.  Her face ¨C she¡¯s scared and desperate.  This must be killing her pride... but her will to live is stronger.  This isn¡¯t one of my games - its life or death for her.

    ¡°I¡¯ll give it a try.¡±  It¡¯s been a while since I went jumping around. He leapt but didn¡¯t quite hit his target.  With his front claws out, he scrambled for a hold on her armor, awkwardly managing to get a stance on her broad back.  I¡¯ll have to stand up and look over her shoulder. Doing so, he found his paws on her shoulders, struggling to keep her hair out of his face.  Her neat braid had been unraveling ever since the attack, getting more and more disheveled.  Being so close to another person was strange, frightening ¨C he hadn¡¯t been so close to someone else in years, making him think of his family¡­.

    ¡°Now that you¡¯re practically at first base, let¡¯s go!¡±

    What¡¯s a ¡°first base¡±? Giving his head a shake, he refocused.  Snap out of it.

    From his uncomfortable and certainly unusual perch, he guided Althea down the path quickly.  The world sure looks a lot different from this high up.  Spoken directions evolved quickly into shoulder taps, navigating her to the left and right through the dark.  Nearing his home, the time came to leave the path.  ¡°It¡¯s just ahead ¨C through this brush, then there¡¯s a slope down through the blackberry bushes.¡±

    As she pushed through the thorns, slashing ineffectively with her sword, he was very nervous, shaking.  No outsider had seen his home in years.  Father had hidden it well, placed just right in a little hollow, nearly impossible to find without knowing it was there.  Jumping down, he scurried to a small door.  ¡°Just a minute ¨C I¡¯ve got to get some things.  They can¡¯t be left behind!¡±

    ¡°What?¡± she hissed.  ¡°We don¡¯t have time to pack for holiday.  We¡¯ve got to move!¡±

    ¡°Just trust me!  I¡¯ve got some first aid supplies in here that¡¯ll help you.¡±

    Begrudgingly, she waited in the dark.  Light streamed from inside stained windows, a welcome sight in the gloom.  The light betrayed the fog that was settling into the forest, further complicating navigating the night.  Once she could finally see her faint surroundings, she found herself quite surprised.  She had expected to find herself outside a fox burrow, a hole in the ground, but instead found a miniature clearing.  She was standing in a small garden, messy but clearly tended, full of small plants in rows now trampled by her hooves. Built into the side of a great old tree was this little, tiny house, with glass windows indicating what seemed like multiple levels.  Stooping down, she could see a flurry of activity inside.  The fox appeared to be going around with a small bag, putting into it what looked like far too many items to fit.

    Inside, Foxey was frantic, caught between terror and grief.  Every room, every book, every bit of the old house was full of memories of his long-gone parents.  Dad¡¯s library held his prized book collection, having a wide gamut from survival guides, do-it-yourself books, to history and adventure.   His mother¡¯s reading nook still held the rocking chair his father had made for her, right where the best afternoon light came in.  He took his mother¡¯s old oil lantern from room to room to light his way.

    Mom loved this old lantern.  She used to read us stories by its light through storms.

    From the library he took his father¡¯s old leather satchel, a family heirloom, from its place of honor.

    Dad showed me that it was much bigger on the inside than outside, but he never said how much it could truly hold.  I was always afraid to touch it in case I fell in.

    Trying to choose what to take and what to leave was heartbreaking, leading to more and more being put in the satchel, but it didn¡¯t grow any heavier.

    Panicking more as the reality of the situation grew, the fox started to give in to wishful thinking.  Dad said he¡¯d come back for me.  He always kept his word.  Maybe I can lay low and come back in a few weeks?  The ogres aren¡¯t too bright ¨C maybe they¡¯ll forget all about me after a while.  It hasn¡¯t been that long.  Only¡­ twenty some years.  His eyes settled on his father¡¯s dagger on the wall.  It was old, bearing the scars of wars past.  The hilt was shaped for a fox¡¯s paw, the family crest on the pommel.  He lifted it off the wall, years of dust protesting the movement.  He felt the weight of generations as he slowly turned the blade in his paws, the steel cold on his pads.

    ¡°Hurry up fuzzball!¡± yelled the centaur, banging a hoof against the outside of his house.If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.

    Carefully placing the blade and scabbard into the satchel, he thought, off to the pantry.  I guess I should take food with me.  Field rations?  He tossed odds and ends into the bag, still marveling that it didn¡¯t get heavier or fuller.  ¡°I should have started using this thing a long time ago,¡± he muttered, shaking his head.  The kitchen is where the weight of memories finally crushed him.

    This kitchen used to be so warm and inviting.  Mom always seemed to be cooking or baking something that would smell so delicious, like her honey apple pies.

    He sat down the lantern haphazardly on the table, entranced.  Mom and I spent so much time together in this room.  Reaching for his mother¡¯s cherished skillet, the cool iron reminded him times long ago, when the kitchen would be full of laughter, inviting smells, and schoolwork.

    It was a cool autumn day.  The little kit¡¯s mother was in the kitchen preparing the seasonings for the big fish cook today.  Winter was coming and the family needed to stock up food for when the snow got deeper. At the table, the kit had a slate and chalk, despairingly trying to do his lessons.

    ¡°Mama, why do I need to do arithmetic?  Isn¡¯t it really for the two-legs?  What would we ever use it for?¡±

    Looking up from her mixing bowl, she gave a sigh.  ¡°Arithmetic is just as important to us as it is for humans.  I must measure out ingredients to bake, and I must plan for how much food we¡¯ll need.  Your father used math when he designed this house to find how many nails and pieces and parts that he¡¯d need to build it.   He had to work it out all in advance so he could bring it all out here to the forest, where we could be safe.¡±

    The kit pleaded.  ¡°But why?  I¡¯ve seen and smelled that fox family by the big creek.  They don¡¯t have to do math or schoolwork.  They just hunt and play all day.¡±

    Getting stern, tail stiff, the mother fox stared down her kit, brushing flour from her apron.  ¡°Phineas!  By spring, half of those kits will be dead.  In four years, all of them will be.  We¡¯re not dumb animals like them ¨C we¡¯re Voxa.  The Creator made us talking animals different than them, long ago, for a reason.  And don¡¯t you ever forget that Phineas, because if you do, you¡¯ll lose your spark.  If you live like an animal, if you associate with them, you¡¯ll start to lose your spark.  Once you go too far, you go feral, and there¡¯s no coming back.¡±

    Seeing the scared look on her kit¡¯s face, his mother softens her tone, smiling.  ¡°That¡¯s enough study for now, Phinney.  You can run outside and help your father with the charcoal.¡±

    ¡°Yay!¡±  The little kit puts his slate and book aside, tail wagging eagerly as he runs out through the kitchen door.  ¡°Dad!  Dad!  Mama told me you made our house with math!  How¡¯d you do that!?¡±

    ¡°Foxey!  Get out of there!¡±  More bangs shook the house.

    Dazed, longing for the memories of the past, he started to come back to the present.  A present that now, surprisingly, surrounded him with smoke.  In disbelief, he turned to see that his mother¡¯s oil lantern had fallen to the floor, glass shattering to pieces, spilling now burning oil.  Flames quickly danced over the dry wood, crackling, finding new life to grow, stealing it from the old house.  The kitchen table, place of so many happy family meals, engulfed in flames.  Mom¡¯s rocking chair, now a blaze.  All gone. Realizing he still had the skillet still in hand, he shoved it into the satchel.  ¡°I¡¯m coming out!¡±

    ¡°Hurry!  The fire is lighting up the night - the ogres can¡¯t miss it!¡±

    Fully realizing the gravity of the situation, he knew this was it.  There is no coming back.  In that moment, he finally admitted to himself what he had known for so long, but never dared to say.  They¡¯re not coming back.  He headed for the door in the thickening, acrid smoke.  Once outside, he saw Althea stooping down, trying to see what was happening in the house.  As he placed the satchel on his back, her hand dove down, picking him up and tossing him on to her back.  He could see it all from his higher vantage point ¨C his home, even the old tree it was built into, becoming fully engulfed in flames.    The old dry timbers of the house caught fire like kindling, dried for decades.  Even the wood pile was starting to catch fire from the falling embers.

    ¡°Where now?  I¡¯m sorry for your loss, but we¡¯ve got to move it, fuzzball!¡±

    Both of their ears flicked in the same direction, nearly in unison.  In the distance, they both heard crashing sounds in the forest ¨C the ogres.  They were coming.

    Closing his eyes tightly, thinking hard, he said ¡°There¡¯s a deep little ravine a quarter mile from here through the brush.  There are a few spots we can switch back to lose them ¨C these ogres are awful trackers.  This fog will get thicker - we¡¯ll be safe for the night.¡±

    Guiding Althea as before, they moved off, the centaur stumbling into the dark at the fox¡¯s direction.  Her breath was ragged, her body trembling with every labored step.  Foxey realized that she couldn¡¯t make it much further.  Her wounds and the exhaustion of the day were taking her to her limit.  She was strained, jaw clenched in determination, her good arm holding her side.  How much blood has she lost? he wondered. Suddenly, the firelight from behind flared up as the sound of falling lumber filled his ears.  He started to turn to look but stopped.  Trying to hold back tears that the centaur couldn¡¯t see, he knew that this was better.  My old life is gone.  The only way now is forward.

    ¡°It¡¯s just a little bit further now.  You can do this, rockslide.  The whole forest might be able to hear you, but those dumb ogres won¡¯t find us.¡±  Foxey kept whispering in her ear, trying to reassure her and keep her going.  Focus on the task at hand.  I¡¯ve got to move forward.

    Walking blindly through the dark forest, Althea wonders how her life got this low, her heart rending.  She had had the best life a lost parentless centaur could have ever hoped to dream of.  Taken in by the wizards and given a fine education.  When she proved completely inept in magic, she was provided with the best tutoring in combat and warrior life.  This all started as a simple personal mission ¨C to find out where I came from.  Now I¡¯m bleeding out, being chased by ogres, stumbling around in these cursed woods, and being guided by a talking rodent trying to give me a pep talk.  Bitterly, she mocked herself.  You¡¯re really nailing it, girl.  Everyone back home would be so proud of you.

    Foxey could see the ravine in the faint starlight.  It looked like the ground had split open in some ancient past.  Narrow, fractured rock walls made up either side.   It had a narrow, rocky path down into the deep.  Only a faint crescent remained of the moon.  As the fog rolled in with a chill into the nearly moonless night, even he wouldn¡¯t be able to see soon.  Those dumb ogres won¡¯t find us tonight.   We¡¯ve got to see how bad these wounds are.

    Whispering, the fox tells her ¡°Up ahead the ground will slope downward.  It¡¯s a little steep, and the sides are narrow ¨C it¡¯ll be a squeeze for your bulk, but you should be able to make it.¡±

    ¡°My bulk?¡± the centaur hissed heatedly.

    Haughtily, he replied ¡°You two-legs take up too much room in this world.  You¡¯ve got to be jealous of my sleekness, I¡¯m sure.¡±  I can¡¯t let her think I¡¯ve gone soft on her mused the fox.

    Groaning, slowly, she replied ¡°I¡­ have¡­ four legs¡­. you fuzzy idiot.¡±

    ¡°Exactly, taking up even more space than a normal two-legs.¡±  This is certainly a more fun way to keep her moving forward.  It helps to keep my mind off what all has happened¡­  ¡°And we¡¯re here.¡±  The fox jumped down, getting space between him and the centaur, blind in the dark.  He didn¡¯t want to accidentally get trampled by those big hooves.  ¡°I¡¯ll get a fire going.¡±

    The bottom of the ravine hid them well, but it was too dark even for him to see to worn rock sides.  The chill of the fog was getting through his fur.  He opened his satchel, starting to fumble around for his tinderbox.  To his surprise, it was right there when he reached in for it.  Well, that¡¯s handy ¨C I always wondered how Dad could find things in this crazy bag.  He tried again, thinking of kindling when he reached into the satchel, and he found it right in his paw, feeling the dry old wood.  Fumbling in the dark, he managed to arrange a little pile of kindling and tinder by feel.  Striking his flint, he caught the dry tinder on the first try.  With some careful blowing, he got a good little fire going, illuminating his surroundings.  ¡°And that¡¯s how you do it!¡± said the fox, triumphantly.

    He looked up to see the centaur¡¯s response in the new light.  To the fox¡¯s surprise, Althea had already lowered herself down to the ground, legs folded underneath her.  She was leaned against the rock wall, eyes closed.  Her skin looked deathly pale as she took faint, short, ragged breaths.  He stepped nearer gently, unsure if she was going to react.  Upon a closer look, he saw a red stain had ominously spread around the gouge in her breastplate.  The wound on her flank was open as well, not quite clotted.  Innumerable scratches from the trees and shrubs were evident on her exposed skin.

    She¡¯s passed out.  I¡¯ve got my work cut out for me if she¡¯s going to survive the night, let alone to escape this forest.

 An End and a Beginning

    Althea awoke to the smell of cooking meat.  Slowly opening her eyes, she found herself at the bottom of a rocky ravine, leaning against a rock face.  Her blanket from her bedroll was covering her torso and the front of her equine half.  Looking up, squinting, she saw the morning¡¯s sun working to beat away the thick fog of the night.  Groggy and disoriented, she began to get up slowly, wondering why everything felt so sore.  What the hell happened last night?  Getting up didn¡¯t seem so imperative anymore.  She looked around to find the source of the cooking breakfast smell.  She saw a fox tending a small fire with meat on a spit and a tiny iron skillet balanced on rocks.  A cooking fox?!

    ¡°Well good morning there, sleepy hooves,¡± said the fox tiredly.  His ears were slack, whiskers drooped, and tail to the ground.

    ¡°What the f¡­ oof.¡± began the centaur, stopping when she felt the pain in her side, causing her ears to pin back.  Suddenly, her memories came back to her.  The annoying fox, the keep, the ogres, the flight in the night.  She thought self-consciously, I let the fox ride on my back last night.  The guys back home can never hear of this.  I¡¯ll never be able to live this down if they find out.  I¡¯ve got to ditch this fox.  Preferably in a deep ditch.

    ¡°I¡¯m not quite sure what you¡¯re going for there, but you¡¯re welcome¡± the fox said with a little smirk, turning back to the fire.  ¡°I¡¯m not used to cooking so much for a behemoth like yourself.  With those wounds, though, a good meal has got to help.¡±

    Looking down, she remembered the sword wounds from the ogres.  The bandage she had wrapped on her left arm at the keep had been redone and cleaned up.  Looking back, the cut on her flank behind her barding had been bandaged as well.   That left her abdomen¡­  Pulling up the blanket, she was surprised to find that her armor breastplate was gone.  Her torso was covered only with her undergarments and the bandages wrapped around her.  This damn fox took my armor off!  Blood still seeped through the fresh bindings.  These are bandages from my pack!

    ¡°You took my armor off!  And rifled through my pack!  What the hell, fluffy!?¡± she snorted indignantly.  The snort immediately led to a sharp pain in her side, softening her countenance.

    Giving her side-eye, he retorted ¡°Once again, you¡¯re welcome for not bleeding to death last night.  I told you the supplies I got would help.  I didn¡¯t have big enough bandages for you, so I had to get bold.¡±  He picked up a miniature, aged book, clearly made for small hands or paws.  He gestured with it, showing her the cover, so she squinted to read the tiny print on the cover - ¡®First Aid for the Battling Voxa¡¯.  ¡°You¡¯ll need stitches, though, to heal that up better.  I wrapped you up as tight as I could.¡±  The fox shrugged as he continued to tend to breakfast.  Looking again, she could see what looked like a skinned rabbit over the fire.  The tiny iron skillet had cut potatoes sauteing in oil.  Occasionally, the fox pulled out herbs from the bag to season the meat and potatoes.

    Stunned, Althea looked at the ground, pausing to gather her thoughts.  This all just took a turn for the weird.  A cooking fox named Foxey bandaged my wounds.  Struggling to remember the hazy night, more details came back.  The fox had a little wooden house that I think he torched himself.  He...  I¡­ had him ride on my back to because he has dark vision.  Shaking her head slowly in disbelief, she remembered more.  This is even worse than that night in Fairhaven.  At least I blacked out for that.  Raising her head back up, she gave the fox a quizzical look, tail swishing slightly.  ¡°First off, what¡¯s a ¡®Voxa¡¯?  Second, where¡¯d the food come from?¡±  More slowly, thoughtfully, she continued the questioning.  ¡°Third, why are you helping me?  You should have abandoned me with the ogres chasing us.¡±

    Foxey thought about this as he finished the cooking.  He started divvying the food, placing the lion¡¯s share of rabbit and potatoes onto her camping tin (Also pulled from her pack!  What didn¡¯t he go through?) and much less on a much smaller, tarnished old tin from his pack.  Next a small, dark hunk of bread came out of his bag and a jar of strawberry preserves.  ¡°Do you want some strawberry jam?¡± he asked, holding up the jar.

    ¡°Um, no, thank you.  I¡¯m allergic to strawberries.¡±  She was still confounded, not sure what to do with this.  Her face still showed her wondering.  ¡°Well?¡±

    He shrugged again, cutting some bread for her tin.  He took some for himself, spreading the jam with a tiny knife.  Carrying the tin to where she still lay down, she held it up for her, which she took, still unsure of the situation.  ¡°Well, let¡¯s start from the beginning.  I¡¯m a Voxa.  Not a fae or a cursed creature like you called me, but a genuine thinking, talking being born this way.¡±  He sat down, thoughtfully starting on his food with a tiny fork and knife.  ¡°Second, I chased down the rabbit after I had bandaged you up.  I was stalking around above the ravine looking for signs of the ogres and smelled an opportunity.  The rest of the food was from my pantry.  I figured I could do better than your field rations.¡±

    Althea smelled her plate, looking at it suspiciously.  Am I really going to eat something prepared by an animal?  From his pantry?  Feeling a digestive growl (centaurs have quite the complex gastrointestinal system), she sniffed again.  Smells¡­ surprisingly acceptable.  Is that rosemary and thyme?  Meh, it probably won¡¯t kill me.  As she started to eat the roast rabbit meat, she was pleasantly surprised by the flavor.  Althea then noticed that the fox was watching her.  ¡°Am I that interesting to you?¡±

    With a strange look, he replied.  ¡°Well, it¡¯s been a¡­ long time since I cooked for someone else.  I was looking forward to your reaction.  If I¡¯m going to do something, I should make sure to do it right.  What¡¯s the point otherwise?¡±

    Althea was amazed at the simple yet profound statement.  A philosophical fox chef.  Maybe I got my head knocked around more than I realized.  Getting her canteen out from her pack, she took a sip.  ¡°Why are you risking yourself helping me?¡±

    Foxey looked down at his plate, poking around with his fork.  Not looking up, he said, ¡±Let¡¯s just say I¡¯m trying to turn over a new leaf.  You needed help, so I helped you.¡±  Never mind that I¡¯m the one that led you to danger in the first place.  Scattering his food with his fork some more, he looked up into her eyes.  ¡°You¡¯ve never heard of the Voxa before?¡±

    She shook her head slowly as she chewed.

    With a touch of despair, the fox pressed on.  ¡°Ever met a talking fox, or any other talking animals in your travels?¡±

    ¡°Never.¡±

    Looking down again, Foxey asked again, feeling the exhaustion from the long night and a sinking suspicion becoming real.  ¡°Have you ever even heard of any talking foxes, or any other talking animals?¡±

    Seeing that the normally snarky fox was getting hit hard by this, she tried to choose her words carefully.  ¡°I was taught in school that talking animals used to- I mean, do exist, but that they¡¯re very rare, mainly living on the other side of the sea.  There were wars in the past that, uh, affected their population.¡±Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.

    Watching his sad response, she tried another approach.  ¡°I¡¯m sure your kind might try to stay unnoticed.  You know other talking foxes, I¡¯m sure.¡±

    He continued to stare at his tin, ears drooped.  ¡°Just my parents.¡±  He looked up again with an odd look on his face, eyes scrunched up, ears up, like he was going through old memories in his mind.  ¡°I did meet a Voxa rabbit once as she was travelling through the forest¡­¡±

    Sensing the awkwardness of the situation, Althea shifted, deciding to change the subject.  With her surprisingly good meal finished, she started examining her bandages more.  ¡°You said you think this needs stitches?¡±

    Shuffling to find his book again, he opened it up to show her a diagram.  ¡°The wound is open.  I got the bleeding to stop with some herbs, but it won¡¯t stay closed.¡±  He reached into his bag again, pulling out a tiny needle and some thread on a bobbin.  ¡°I have this, but I don¡¯t know if it¡¯s the right kind.  I¡¯m¡­ not that good at sewing, either.¡±

    If this fox was a seamstress as well, I think I would have lost it.  ¡°I¡¯ve got some experience with this.  I¡¯ll just look¡­¡± As she pulled the bandage off, the sight nearly made her lose her first fox-cooked meal.  ¡°Oh f&$%!  Those must be some good magic fox herbs.  I¡¯ve got to sew this up before I get moving.¡±  What color she had regained was lost, back to pale.  It¡¯s either let this freaky fox sew on me, or I¡¯ve got to do this myself.  Let¡¯s see how tough that training really made me.  As she turned to get into her pack the pain hit her again.  Bad idea.  Sighing, ears down, looking at the little fox, she decided.  ¡°Look in my pack and you¡¯ll see a flask.  Get it for me.¡±

    Dutifully, he got it for her without any snark, curious as to what it was.  She opened the flask top and poured some of the contents on her wound, leaning back to try to keep it all from running away.  ¡°Oh f&$% s@&*% son of a bitch that burns!¡± she cried out, head back, ears flat down, face scrunched in pain.

    Foxey backed up, ears back, confused.  Looking at her, puzzled and scared, he asked ¡°What in the world was that?¡±

    ¡°Some good highland whisky.  It helps to keep gangrene away.¡±  Still trying to shake off the pain, she took a few swigs herself. ¡°And control the pain.¡± This does not count as day drinking, she thought, knowing of what some of the matrons back home would say.  ¡°Alright, time to light this up.¡±  Capping the flask, she gestured to the fox.  Timidly, he pawed the needle to her.  Staring intently, she put the first stitch in her abdomen, the wound right near the bottom of her human torso ribcage.  She jumped as the needle went through, but she kept going, knowing she couldn¡¯t make it out of the forest without closing the wound.

    Watching in amazement, Foxey watched as Althea stitched her wound up, wincing and cursing every time she pierced herself with the needle.  I wonder if dad ever had to do this.  He was covered in so many scars, disrupting his fur.  Shaking his head, he knew he couldn¡¯t be like that.  Mama always called me a gentle soul, upsetting dad.  He said I needed to learn to be a fighter like him, but mom kept delaying him training me.  She finished the job and started putting the bandages back.

    Grabbing her breastplate from the ground in her good hand, she started the arduous process.  Leaning back, she straightened her forelegs, getting into a sitting position.  Sore, but everything checks out.  She tested each foreleg, looking at her hooves.  My right front hoof will need reshod.  My new rubber sneak hooves are gone too.  Great¡­  Next came the hard part.  She swung her body weight forward, getting her hind end up so she could straighten her hind legs out.  She felt unsteady, stumbling sideways towards the ravine wall, steadying herself with her arms, feeling the pain in her side and flank.  Alright, managed to get up.  Not going to die in a ravine with an endangered species today.  She took a few high steps, making sure everything was still moving right.  Humans make that look so easy.

    She noticed the fox was looking at her again, having witnessed the ordeal of an equine standing back up.  He seemed to be holding back tears, head and ears drooped, tail between his legs.  I think I just told him he may be the last of his kind.  This gave Althea pause.  So far, I seem to be the only one of my specific kind, properly¡­  ¡°Never saw that before?  It¡¯s not easy for us centaurs to get up from the ground.¡±

    The fox gave a weak smile, wiping his eyes with a paw.  ¡°That does seem rather difficult for you to stand up.  I never thought that your legs might work differently.  I¡¯m confused, though.  I thought two-legs like to cover those up?¡±  The fox was pointing at Althea¡¯s chest.

    Looking down, Althea saw that her undergarments weren¡¯t garmenting her so well anymore.  Blushing, she lifted her armor back up to cover herself and turned around, nearly trampling the fox.  ¡°Not a word, fuzzball!¡±  She fixed her clothes and buckled the breastplate back on.  Getting a better look at it, she saw that her armor was ruined.  Great, there¡¯s more gold gone.  At least it did its job, and I didn¡¯t die.  Yet anyways.

    ¡°Maybe it¡¯s because you all don¡¯t have proper fur¡± the fox laughed.

    ¡°Shut up!¡±  Althea¡¯s nose flared, face getting even more red.

    Deciding to change the subject, Foxey kicked dirt into the fire to snuff it out.  ¡°Time to go.  There¡¯s a human village we could get to tomorrow tonight if we take the game trails.  We¡¯ve got to avoid the main road.  I put some fake tracks down in the night to confuse those dumb ogres ¨C they¡¯ll think we¡¯re headed to the mountains on the coast.¡±  The fox reached behind the snuffed fire and grabbed Althea¡¯s missing horseshoe, tossing it to her.  ¡°This came off last night ¨C I put it to good use.¡±  The horseshoe bounced off her side, thrown poorly and too low.

    ¡°Let¡¯s hope your navigation is better than your aim.¡±  Althea straightened her pack out, getting herself back into travelling condition.  ¡°And by the way ¨C don¡¯t ever go through my pack again!¡±

    ¡°Alright, I¡¯ll let you bleed out next time.  Remember, my navigation saved your wide load last night.  Just try to avoid more sword wounds, huh?¡±  Bantering with the centaur was helping to not dwell on the implications of the night and morning.  The house is gone, ogres want to kill me, and I may be the last Voxa left alive on this earth.  This jackass centaur is the closest thing I have to a friend.  He put the last of the cooking gear into his pack, and as he went to put it on his back, he had a thought.  Looking into the satchel, he thought about his father¡¯s dagger.  He pulled it from the bag, cold and heavy in his paw.

    As he turned the blade, the intricate carving on the pommel caught the morning sunlight. Light seemed to dance around his family crest, a shield with a parchment scroll still bright.  Two crossed spears adorned the shield emblem, while being surrounded by nine fox tails.  He flicked the edge with his paw.  The blade was still wickedly sharp after all these years, ready for action.  This is the destiny I¡¯ve avoided for far too long.

    Althea watched in curiosity as the fox readied himself.  He¡¯s got the smallest bag of holding I¡¯ve ever seen or heard of.  That blade looks like it was made by a master craftsman, and clearly not for human hands.  Both items are ancient looking, though, old as dirt.  As the fox slowly pondered the blade in his paws, Althea noticed he began to profusely bleed from one of his forepaws.  Foxey dropped the blade and frantically started licking his paw, trying to stop the bleeding.  Sighing, Althea lowered her face to her palm.  And he¡¯s a &#%^ing idiot.

    ¡°Bandage that up and let¡¯s get going.¡± Althea said with scorn.  I thought this guy was hardcore enough to torch his own place.  Now I realize he¡¯s an idiot. Sighing to herself, she had to admit, he¡¯s an idiot that saved my life twice now.

    After a quick bandage job for the paw, the pair cautiously left the ravine.  Foxey walked on his hind legs to give his paw some time to scab under the dressing.  He eyed the blade on his hip, now safely back in its scabbard, with caution.  With no sign of the ogres, the fox led the way out of the forest.

    As they walked on, Althea considered what had happened.  He licked his paw to stop the bleeding.  That¡¯s what animals do.  He used an animal first aid guide to bandage me up last night¡­  In horror, she regarded the fox still walking upright in front of her.  ¡°Last night¡­ how did you stop my bleeding?¡±

    The fox answered nonchalantly, not looking back at her as they walked.  ¡°You know, the traditional way.  Clean water, herbs from the book, all the normal things.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s all?¡± she said doubtfully.

    ¡°Are you sure you really want to know?¡± he said looking back, brow arched, whiskers waggling.

    She thought about it, and they continued in silence.

    ¡°Phineas, by the way.¡± Said the fox, breaking the silence.

    ¡°Say what?¡± said Althea, unsure what she had just heard.

    ¡°My real name is Phineas.  Foxey Loxey was my father¡¯s name.¡±

 A New World

    ¡°Phineas Loxias VII,¡± said the fox, somewhat reflectively. ¡°That¡¯s my real name. Foxey Loxey was my father¡¯s nom de guerre.¡± Sighing, he continued. ¡°He said that¡¯s what his human friends called him when he was fighting alongside them. He was a rogue and a spy for the cause.¡±

    The pair continued in silence, the warm spring sunlight filtering through the trees. Althea considered what she had just learned. ¡°Phineas Loxias?¡±

    ¡°Yes, the seventh,¡± with a bit of pride inflected. ¡°Dad said it¡¯s an old family name, from the old country. He used to tell me stories about there and the war, but not much about why they left. All I know was that he and the other Voxa were betrayed, and that he fled with my mother to the furthest place possible so we could be safe. I was born in this forest.¡±

    ¡°How long ago was this all?¡±

    ¡°Over forty years ago.¡±

    Damn, this is an old fox. How long do these Voxa live? she wondered. ¡°And you¡¯ve never left the forest?¡±

    ¡°The village is the furthest I¡¯ve ever gone, but I always stayed hidden. Sometimes I¡¯ve needed supplies.¡±

    Althea gave him a critical look.

    ¡°I know what you¡¯re thinking. I¡¯m no thief. My father used to say we were just customers that they didn¡¯t know about. He didn¡¯t have an issue with the people there, but he said to not trust them, either.¡± The fox continued to walk alongside Althea, head down. Continuing shakily, he started to stutter ¡°All of those¡­ two-legs¡­ I get nervous.¡±

    Althea could tell there was something more he wasn¡¯t saying about his parents, but in a rare moment of tact, she decided not to press that question. Yet. She could tell it was something important, but also that he wasn¡¯t ready.

    Althea started slowly, cautiously. ¡°You didn¡¯t seem nervous harassing me in the forest and the keep. I could tell I wasn¡¯t the first adventurer you¡¯d given that schtick to. What¡¯s the big deal about some villagers?¡±

    Keeping his head down and avoiding her gaze, his eyes got wide in alarm. Does she know? Does she know what I¡¯d been doing with all the other adventurers, leading them to their demise? But, if she knew, wouldn¡¯t she be furious? She¡¯d probably kill me on the spot. Knowing he needed to redirect; he basically told the truth. ¡°That was on my home turf, in my forest, dealing with only a few two-legs at my advantage. Leaving the forest for the village, that¡¯s, uh, a completely different situation.¡±

    Recalling Althea¡¯s words about never having encountered any talking animals, his tone saddened. He looked up at her in the eyes. ¡°Adventurers never seemed that terribly surprised by a talking fox. They must travel and have some greater knowledge of the world. Plain old villagers, though, may be suspicious of me. They might try to trap or kill me.¡± Pepping up his tone, he continued. ¡°I¡¯m quite more cunning that those bumpkins may expect, but the numbers don¡¯t guarantee my success.¡±

    The centaur regarded him skeptically, tilting her head as they continued. ¡°I¡¯ll bet you¡¯re a craftier little fuzzy bastard than you let on.¡± As the fox feigned protest, she continued. ¡°Just keep up the bravado. Just, like, project your confidence, same way you did in the forest. Give it some swagger. Make it seem like you¡¯re not just normal, but they should count themselves glad to even encounter you.¡±

    The fox looked away, into the distance ahead. ¡°Project it,¡± he muttered to himself contemplatively. ¡°I think I can do that.¡±

    ¡°Good.¡± Althea stopped on the trail, causing the fox to as well. She looked at him intensely, with some hints of painful memories in her eyes. ¡°You¡¯re not going to get taken seriously without some confidence. Take it from an eight-foot-tall centaur warrior woman ¨C you won¡¯t get any respect for free. You¡¯ve got to demand it. Be ridiculous if you must, but in a deadly serious way. ¡®Phineas¡¯ will get laughed off. But if you can tell them with a straight face that your name is ¡®Foxey Loxey¡¯ and they see that steel, you¡¯ll put doubt and fear in their hearts. Use every weapon you have, physical and mental.¡±

    He pondered as they continued walking towards the village. They were too close to the edge of the forest now ¨C the ogres wouldn¡¯t dare try to follow them this close to the human village. The local noble had sent multiple guard sweeps in the past year killing any ogres that ventured too close. Dead villagers don¡¯t pay enough taxes, it seems.

    As they approached the tree line, the fox slowed his gait, then started hyperventilating. Althea stopped, annoyed at this new development. We don¡¯t have time for this s^%#. Questioning the necessity of bringing the fox, she administered one final dose of ''encouragement''. ¡°Get yourself together, fuzzball! You¡¯ve got nowhere else to go. It¡¯s time to enter the real world. You can either come with me, or wallow around until you get eaten by a wolf or a griffin or some other random-ass thing. If you try to go home, I¡¯d bet those ogres have quite a grudge.¡± Cringing, she continued a bit softer. ¡°What would Foxey Loxey do?¡± I¡¯d better get some good karma for this.This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

    His breathing slowed down, getting control of himself. Althea continued, seeing her pep talk was getting through. ¡°You said your old man was a rogue and a spy? With your size and element of surprise, you could pull that off too. This is your chance to make your own name for yourself.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re right, I can do this! Just project confidence?¡± The fox¡¯s ears were perked up, tail swishing slowly.

    ¡°That¡¯s right. Fake it ¡®til you make it. I¡¯ve got my own quest I¡¯m on, but if you come along with me, I¡¯ll split with you whatever spoils come along the way. You did save my life-¡±

    ¡°Twice¡± he interjected, getting into the spirit of it.

    ¡°Yes, twice,¡± from a now more annoyed centaur. Begrudgingly, she continued while the fox looked up into her brown eyes. ¡°I owe you. I¡¯m saving you from being trapped in this forest - that cancels out one debt. Deal?¡± She stretched out her right arm, bending down to reach her hand out.

    He stood up on his hind legs, grabbing at that old twinge in his back, then reached his paw up to shake her hand. His furry little paw was almost comically small in her hand. ¡°Deal.¡±

    ¡°Then let¡¯s get a move on. I need a farrier, a good meal, and some good ale.¡± Scanning the horizon for the sun¡¯s position, she confidently began trotting south, onward into the field beyond the trees.

    ¡°Um, the village is that way.¡± Althea turned her head to see the fox pointing northeast.

    Mildly irritated, she salvaged the situation. ¡°See, already more confident!¡± As she corrected course, she could hear the fox muttering to himself, distracted in his own thoughts. He seemed to be repeating to himself about projecting confidence like in the forest. As they trotted along, signs of the village started to come into view. She felt uneasy for some reason when looking down at the fox, still quietly repeating to himself as they traveled. The sun was getting low in the sky as they were nearing their destination.

    As the pair crested another hill, the village fully came into view. The rustic (to say it politely) collection of old ramshackle houses and establishments roughly centered around a town square. Some of the villagers were erecting decorations in the square. Long tables had been placed in the center of the square, and booths lined the periphery. Fields surrounded the village, where peasants worked amongst the young crops. Althea instantly recognized the village from her stop almost two weeks ago. It took me a week to get from this place to the keep! Glancing down at the still-distracted fox, she thought I couldn¡¯t let him know I got that lost. At that, though, she questioned herself why she cared what the fuzzball thought about her.

    As they approached the village proper, the locals noticed Althea first. One of the men hit the other, then pointed at her, guffawing. ¡°Look, Ted! It¡¯s that centaur girl! She made it out alive!¡± Other villagers stopped what they were doing to turn and stare. A woman carrying a basket of eggs stopped fussing at the children running around, looking Althea up and down in amazement. ¡°One of them ¡®venturers made it back in mostly one piece!¡±

    In the commotion greeting Althea, the adults in the village completely overlooked her companion near the ground. He could tell she was starting to get incensed at the hubbub from her tense face and angrily twitching tail, getting ready to say who knows what. Foxey started to get nervous when some children, dirty and in rags, noticed him and began running to him. Taking a deep breath, he repeated to himself - Project confidence, just like with the adventurers in the forest. Fake it ¡®til you make it.

    Rising on his hind legs, focusing, he took a deep breath. With a grandiose flourish of his paws and a wagging tail, he began.

    ¡°My fine ladies and gentlefolk, you are indeed correct! Dame Althea Stonehoof has come back! The scourge of evildoers everywhere, the Tamer of North Serica, the Vindicator of Kelshara, has returned! She has defeated the vile ogres that have plagued this forest and you fine village folk! Let us give her to a hero¡¯s welcome!¡±

    The crowd of peasants froze, seeming oddly transfixed by the fox¡¯s words. Althea was stunned, looking down at Foxey as if he¡¯d finally gone mad. Before she could admonish him, the peasants broke out in cheers.

    ¡°Hail the conquering hero!¡±

    ¡°What a joy for our new moon celebration!¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s with the fox?¡±

    The girls of the village draped the new moon festival garlands over Althea. She swung her head around, uneasy with the swarming villagers, hand headed to her hilt, but the mood seemed festive. Looking back down at the fox for a sign, she got a wink and a furry thumbs up in return. The crowd began to usher the pair towards the tables in the square, where the local festival was nearly prepared.

    Althea¡¯s limp from the missing horseshoe reminded Foxey of her need for a new shoe. ¡°How could I be so remiss a squire? Before the merriment may begin, the Dame doth require a farrier! Her noble battle with the ogres has left her wanting a shoe! Which of you fine purveyors could be of such a service to our hero?¡±

    A burly man in a leather apron raised his hand, gesturing towards a stable. ¡°Right over here, mi¡¯ lady! I¡¯ll get you fixed up in no time!¡±

    The festive crowd separated the pair, pushing Althea towards the stable and the ostentatious fox into the town square. Althea wondered what kind of trouble the fuzzball was going to bring down on them. Well, at least he listened to something and took the message of confidence to heart. Those villagers, though, something doesn¡¯t seem quite right with them. As soon as that weird little fox started talking, something changed¡­

 A Foxs First Hangover

    Althea left the farrier¡¯s stable as night was falling. The distant sound of partying filled the cool air, along with some welcome smells of a roast. She examined her new horseshoe. It wasn¡¯t the greatest work, but it should hold up for the journey ahead.  It certainly didn¡¯t come with any kind of hero discount, either.  The revelry of their welcome certainly wore off once the farrier¡¯s own profits came to bear.

    Light from fires and lanterns lit up the darkening sky as Althea made her way back to the square.  Joyous sounds of music and dance filled the air as the villagers celebrated the spring new moon.  Before the square came into view, Althea cringed, worried about what she may find.  Well, at least they sound happy enough.  That fuzzball must not be getting burned at the stake as a demon¡­ yet.

    To her surprise, she found a quaint folk festival, full of merriment and feasting.  The smell of roast pork wafted through the square from the hog roast turning slowly over a charcoal fire. The only oddity was, at the center of a long table, a little red fox boasting with a tiny mug of ale in his paw.  An array of roast meats and pies covered the table, still steaming from the fire.  The smell of the roast pork was delightful for an adventurer subsisting on rations and dubiously sourced meals from a fox.

    To her dismay, she found a crowd of young villagers were close around him.  They were listening to the fox¡¯s story intently, hanging on every embellished word.  On either side of him was a fawning maiden, petting his fur? Scratching his ears?

    ¡°¨C with a final swoop of her broadsword, the foul beast was decapitated!  And that is how the mighty Lady Althea defeated the Dragon Lord of Chisholm, cleansing the land of his foul corruption!

    As Althea approached, Foxey finally noticed her.  ¡°And here she is, the conquering -hic- hero!¡±  He raised his mug in the air in a salute to her.  ¡°You should try this stuff ¨C it¡¯s great!!¡±

    The partygoers at the table raised their mugs to cheer Althea, then turned back to Foxey.  Althea trod carefully through the square, avoiding stepping on the revelers to come up behind the drunk fox.  Trying to keep up the act, she tried addressing the table in a more genteel way: ¡°I need a moment with my, uh, squire here.¡±  The fox set down his mug carefully, then teetered around on the bench he had been standing on.  Althea took the direct approach and picked him up by the scruff of his neck.   ¡°Carry on gentlefolk, enjoy the festival!¡±

    As Althea carried him away from the square, the villagers turned back to the party.  Once down a deserted street, she plopped the hiccupping fox down on a fence outside the village.  Ears twitching angrily, she glared at him and demanded ¡°What in the name of the blazing hells was that?  You¡¯re going to get us run out of town, or worse!  I¡¯ve never even heard of the lands you claim I¡¯m some mighty hero of!¡±

    ¡°Prepositions¡­¡± he muttered under his breath.

    ¡°What!?¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t end a sentence with a preposition.¡±

    Seeing that he¡¯d incensed Althea even more, he folded his ears down and tucked his tail between his legs.  Avoiding her gaze, he tried again.  ¡°I¡¯m -hic- sorry.  Those kids were running up to me and I panicked.  I thought, ¡®fake it ¡®til I make it¡¯, so I told some stories from my mom¡¯s fantasy books.  I tried to ¡®project confidence¡¯ like you said.¡±  Looking back up at her in the dark with big, sad, glowing eyes, he continued.  ¡°Didn¡¯t I do well?  These people welcomed us.  You got your shoe fixed, and I found us some good food and good ale.  That¡¯s exactly what you said you wanted.¡±  His head swimming ever so slightly, he resumed his smile. ¡°How come you didn¡¯t tell me how great this ale stuff is?!¡±

    Her mind raced as she tried to process everything she had seen.  She couldn¡¯t comprehend how this scrawny fuzzball from the forest had seemingly entranced an entire village with such fabricated stories.  He corrects my grammar.  At first, he hyperventilated at the thought of this place!  Now he has maidens hanging on every word while petting his fur?  She suddenly had a flash of a vague memory from Creature Studies 101 (don¡¯t ask about her grades).  I¡¯ve got to talk to Marcus about this¡­

    ¡°You don¡¯t get it.  This isn¡¯t a game.¡±  She shook her head slowly, clearing her thoughts away. She looked up at the night sky, taking in the sight.  In the moonless night, the sky was ablaze with stars, with the Milky Way becoming visible on the horizon.  The fox stared up at the sky as well, with a deep sadness coming over him.  He wrapped his tail around himself, fluffing up his fur to stay warm in the cool night air as he perched on the fence post.

    Sensing a change, he tried a different tact. Sighing, he said, ¡°I used to look up at the stars, wondering if my parents were still alive.  I hoped they were looking at them at the same time, hoping to feel some kind of connection.¡±

    ¡°Same here.¡±  They turned to each other, soulful eyes meeting, both feeling a mournful bond.  ¡°So, what should I call you, anyways? Foxey?  Phineas?¡±  Teasing with a smile, she continued.  ¡°Fuzzball?¡±

    The fox pondered this while watching Althea¡¯s face.  ¡°You know, I¡¯ve never been asked that before.¡±  He tilted his head thoughtfully, weighing his response.  ¡°What to be called¡­¡±

    With a flash of insight, he had the answer.  ¡°Amongst the two-legs, keep calling me Foxey.  That¡¯s my war name, after all.¡±  With a smile, still showing the effects of the ale, he continued.  ¡°You can call me Phineas, or Phinney for short.¡±

    She briefly placed her hand on his back, feeling his soft fur, before pulling away.  ¡°Alright then, Phinney.¡±  With a smirk, ¡°I¡¯m honored to not be considered a ¡®two-legs¡¯ anymore.¡±

    Changing from the heavy subject, she regarded the waiting fox¡¯s face.  ¡°So, you¡¯ve never had ale before?¡±

    ¡°Nope.¡°

    ¡°Whisky?¡±

    ¡°Nuh-uh.¡±

    Working it through, she realized: ¡°You didn¡¯t have alcohol in your forest, did you?¡±Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.

    Wistfully, he thought about the past.  ¡°Dad mentioned in his stories, but mom would always fuss at him saying something about how he had to get ¡®clean¡¯.¡±

    She considered the situation.  These villagers seem to adore him for whatever reason (she had a suspicion), and this hick ¡°New Moon Festival¡± thing seems harmless enough.  I could use a good drink.

    ¡°Alright then.  Let¡¯s get back to the party!¡±

    THE NEXT MORNING

    ¡°Get outta here, you twos!¡±

    Althea barely opened her eyes, squinting in the harsh morning ¨C afternoon? - sunlight.  Groggily looking around, she seemed to be lying down on a large pile of straw in the farrier¡¯s stable.  A donkey snorted unapprovingly at her.  Slowly locating the source of the yelling, she saw the blur of the burly farrier from the night before.

    ¡°C¡¯mon now, get!¡±

    Squinting through the pounding headache, she could make out the man¡¯s smithing hammer in his hand. Mind suddenly clear (enough), she grabbed for the hilt of her sword, sending a clear message to the farrier.  As she moved her arms, she felt something furry fall to the ground.  Looking down with blurry eyes, she could make out the unconscious form of that blasted fox.  In horror she wondered, Was he in my arms?  Less concerned, she followed with, Is he still alive?  Some more squinting confirmed that his chest was still moving, albeit slowly.

    As Althea unsteadily got to her hooves, hand at her sword, the farrier wavered.  Trying to regain composure, he blurted out ¡°Ya passed out in me stable last night, drunk as a skunk!¡±  Eying the passed-out fox on the floor, he looked back up at Althea¡¯s bloodshot eyes.  ¡°Yer fordrunken ¡®squire¡¯ was already out cold, so we tossed him in wit you.¡±

    The implications sunk in as she wavered on her hooves, ears clamped down from all the loud noises.  Good job girl, another blackout night.  Looking down again at the fox, she gave him a not-so-gentle kick with her foreleg.  He jumped up with a start, then moaned and fell back over.

    ¡°Get up you lousy drunk!  Time to go!¡±  She gave him another kick with her foreleg.

    Foxey sprung back up again, looking around in a daze.

    Through gritted teeth, she spat out, ¡°We need to get out of this gentlemen¡¯s stable.  Come on, squire.¡±

    Seeming to grasp some faint iota of the situation, Foxey turned and reached into his satchel, fortunately still attached to his back.  He pulled out an old, strange looking gold piece, then tossed it in the direction of the farrier.  ¡°Here you go, kind siUUUURGH.¡±

    The man¡¯s entire countenance changed as he eyed the gold piece, then bit it for veracity.  ¡°Right then good folks, whatever I may do for thee!¡±  He made a quick exit, ignoring the vomiting fox in his stable.

    Wobbling, Althea reached down and picked up the fox, already passed out again.  She shook him a few times, satisfied he was all puked out, then she tossed him on her back.  ¡°Time to go, fuzzball.  Let¡¯s not find out what all the night held.¡±

    When she approached the stable door, the light burned her eyes.  She reached in her spectacles pouch to pull out a different set ¨C her trusty sunglasses.  Carefully clipping them to her nose, she stepped out into the blazing day.  With no one in immediate sight, she took the shortest route out of town.

    ------

    Later that afternoon, Foxey awoke in a splash of water.  Jumping up, coughing, he tried to open his eyes but found the sunlight too bright for his pounding head.  He let out a moan as he collapsed back to the ground.

    ¡°Welcome to your first hangover, Phineas.¡±  This will be a good little initiation for him, she thought, her own head still pounding.  That¡¯s what he gets for making fun of my grammar.  ¡°Welcome to the adult world.¡±

    Holding his pounding forehead in his paws, he slowly opened his eyes again, trying to adjust to the awful brightness.  Althea was laying down in the grass, still towering over him.  He tried to turn his head too quickly to look around, causing more moans.  ¡°Adult¡­ uggcckk¡­  I¡¯m probably twice your age.¡±

    ¡°That means you have a lot of experiences to catch up on.  Here¡¯s one.¡±

    Through bleary eyes, he started to make out his surroundings.  They were in a small copse of trees by a brook, near the road.  A small stone bridge passed over the stream in the distance.  Althea had a large pair of dark spectacles shielding her eyes, complete with a floppy hat to defeat the sun.  The hat had holes for her ears to poke through.

    His stomach had the most awful feeling, both tied in knots yet feeling empty.  He was thirsty in a way he¡¯d never felt before.  Looking up at the centaur pitifully, he tried to say something more, but a powerful feeling suddenly hit him.  Eying a bush about five yards away, he stumbled as fast as he could to get behind it, his four legs not wanting to stay in sync en route.

    Smiling, but not too hard (she had a pounding headache as well), she laughed at the sound of the fox¡¯s digestive distress.  Rookie.  ¡°You going to make it?¡±

    ¡°No.¡±  After the sounds of more retching from behind the bush, came the follow-on.  ¡°Just bury me here.¡±  After a minute, he poked his head from around the bush sheepishly, ears and whiskers drooped.  Althea gestured to him, and he slowly walked back.

    ¡°It¡¯s okay.  It happens to everyone, at least once.¡±  Pulling some rolls from her sack, liberated from the festivities the night before, she handed them to the sick fox.  ¡°Some bread and water will help calm your stomach.  Go slow.¡±

    He accepted a roll into his paw, munching on it carefully.  She tilted her canteen up for him as well to drink from, it being too big for his paws.

    After some time to settle down, Althea began prodding.  ¡°You pulled a gold coin out of that magic bag of yours in the stable.  How many of those do you have in there?¡±

    With a wordless shrug, he pulled the bag out.  Thinking of money, he reached in and took out what he felt, getting a couple more gold coins.  Trying again, he got some small silver and copper coins.  A third try yielded nothing more.  He handed the coins to Althea with another shrug.  ¡°I don¡¯t know what they¡¯re worth.  They must be from my dad.¡±

    Replacing her sunglasses with her reading spectacles, she took a close look.  The coins were old and well worn.  The smaller coins had the heads of various animals minted on them, with an unknown script below.  The gold coins had another unknown script with human figures.

    ¡°You mentioned the ¡®old country¡¯.  Did your parents have a name for it?¡±

    A slow shake of his head was the response.

    ¡°I have a friend that may be able to help.  Once we get across the mountains to a proper city, we can contact him.¡±

    LATER, IN A NONDESCRIPT BACK OFFICE

    The clerk was shuffling through his daily papers while enjoying his afternoon tea.  Reports of ogre attacks and reports of neighbors against neighbors suspected of minor treacheries routinely crossed his desk.  Claims of a gnomish rebellion in the works periodically came through.  Complaints about wizards flaunting noble authority tired him.  He worked with care, exuding familiarity and efficiency from years of clerical spy work.

    Each report got either a black or blue stamp and a flourish of his quill, signifying a review.  Nothing in his stack so far today warranted any special attention.  Then, something stopped the clerk cold, causing him to set down his tea, careful not to spill on his black robe.  A summary report from the western reaches contained only regular gossip ¨C except for one troubling report.

    A talking fox had been witnessed at a village festival, the squire of a supposedly mighty warrior.  He had paid for lodging that night with an old, foreign coin.

    He searched his desk, knocking over seals and trinkets.  Finally, he found the dusty old stamp that hadn¡¯t seen use in decades, since his predecessor had had his post.  He carefully applied fresh ink and stamped the paper, the crimson ink in deep contrast to the dingy report.  He summoned one of the apprentices, biding him to deliver the report to his master without delay.

    The clerk sat back in his chair disturbed, trying to settle the faint tremor in his hands.  Not just any Voxa.  A fox.  With gold coins from Sylfa.

 A Glimpse of the Truth

    The journey towards the mountains was decidedly lower key. They generally stayed out of the farming villages, only going in for minor supplies. Phineas kept a low profile, sticking close to Althea. He avoided eye contact when possible and mostly stayed in her shadow when in town ¨C leading to more than one hoof to the side. He didn¡¯t want to admit it to Althea, but he was still somewhat fearful being around so many humans. He didn¡¯t hide per se but tried to act nonchalant. In the rare times he did interact with villagers or other travelers, either they didn¡¯t seem to notice him, or they were surprisingly pleasant when he did get their attention.

    This bothered them both. Something just didn¡¯t seem right in every town they passed through, but they couldn¡¯t quite pin it down. The villagers just weren¡¯t quite right interacting with them.

    Althea had been vague so far about the plan going forward. She wanted to get back to ¡°civilization¡± on the other side of the looming mountain range, and he just tagged along. In the evenings, she would read the book from the old keep, but she couldn¡¯t get anything useful out of it. She knew her old mentor would be able to get something from it, though.

    They were taking a break on the road, resting in some nice shade under a lone fig tree. He was sitting on his rump, hind legs stretched out in front of him to rub his sore paws. The miles of stony roads were taking a toll on his feet.

    Althea eyed him as she bit into an apple. ¡°So, how come you don¡¯t wear pants?¡±

    Phineas looked down at his splayed-out form, then back up at her with a laugh. ¡°Why should I? I¡¯m a fox.¡±

    She furrowed her brow at this. ¡°Yeah, but you talk. You¡¯re, like, a person, not just a fox.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll take the backhanded compliment. But I look like a fox. I¡¯m fluffy. Pants would mess up my beautiful fur and give me bald spots.¡± He stroked his shiny red coat to make a point. ¡°Wearing this satchel and sword belt is bad enough as it is.¡±

    He suddenly sprouted a grin. ¡°Counterpoint. You¡¯re, say, basically 80% horse. How come you cover up so much with your armor barding? It looks quite burdensome. You can¡¯t even reach some very important areas.¡±

    How exactly she managed some things in that barding remained a mystery.

    This got an angry blush in response. ¡°I¡¯m modest. It¡¯s an important quality in a lady.¡±

    ¡°Why should we live by the two-legs¡¯ standards?¡± He laid back and stretched out in the grass to make a furry six-pointed star, wagging his tail and waving his legs. ¡°You¡¯re a centaur, I¡¯m a fox. We¡¯re surrounded by humans and the like, but we¡¯re not like them. Why not be different?¡±

    We? When did this become ¡°we¡±?

    Getting back up out of the grass, his smile faded and his voice lost the carefree mirth. ¡°I don¡¯t get it, Rockslide. You said talking animals are basically nonexistent. How come no one seems surprised when they see me?¡±

    Taking a swig of water from her canteen, she thought about it. ¡°Beats me, fuzzball.¡±

    ¡°I mean, look at me! I¡¯m a talking fox! Apparently, that¡¯s really rare. How do I not stand out? I may even be the last one left in the world.¡± As that phrase slipped out, he got caught up in his throat. His eyes got wide; a bit misty even. Shaking his head, he continued. ¡°You seem to get a lot more attention being a centaur, but you¡¯re hardly unique. You¡¯re like the third or fourth I saw in my old forest.¡±

    ¡°Oh yeah? Nothing special about me at all?¡± she spoke with a fake little pout.

    ¡°Well, you¡¯re definitely bigger than the other centaurs I¡¯ve seen.¡± The fox thought some more. ¡°You fought better, too.¡± Oops, too much.

    Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    She narrowed her eyes while watching him, ears beginning to flick restlessly, betraying her tenseness. ¡°So, I knew I wasn¡¯t the first adventurer you¡¯d ¡®helped¡¯ along to that old keep. But how¡¯d that go for the others, getting ¡®helped¡¯ by you?¡±

    This got the fox panicked inside. Does she know? Does she just suspect it? Keep cool. You saved her life, twice even. She can¡¯t actually know, only suspect, right? ¡°Well, you know, it varied. That old wizards¡¯ keep seemed to be the only thing that interested two-legs into coming into my forest. So, you know, I¡¯d, uh, help them along,¡± he stammered out. ¡°To get them gone as quickly as possible so I could be at peace, like I told you back then.¡±

    ¡°M-hmm,¡± came her reply, eyes like daggers now.

    ¡°There¡¯s a lot of dangers there, you know. It was a wizards¡¯ keep after all. Not everyone was as knowledgeable and disciplined as you to reach your goal, um, safely. And those roving ogres! Very unpredictable, coming and going whenever they felt like it.¡± The fox was trying to keep it together, keep it cool, but his ears and whiskers let slip the reality of his feelings. His breathing got shallow, and his tail twitched more. ¡°There was even a whole dungeon under there at one point, but it collapsed some years ago on a group.¡±

    Nodding slowly, she prodded more, an intensity in her voice. ¡°Tell me¡­ of the adventurers you ¡®helped¡¯, how many survived?¡±

    ¡°Well, uh, you know, the be absolutely sure, there¡¯s a lot of factors that are tricky to ascertain,¡± his eyes darted back and forth, ears pinned to his head, unconsciously tucking his tail between his legs. He couldn¡¯t bear to meet her piercing gaze. ¡°You know, there were many different kinds of party compositions, skill levels, etc. They hardly even followed my advice. It all could have gone so many ways, very difficult to predict¡­¡±

    ¡°How many adventurers survived?¡± I knew it. This fuzzy little bastard was trying to set me up!

    ¡°Well, of course, you, and, well¡­¡± He was getting desperate, but he didn¡¯t see any other way out.

    ¡°Well?¡± She kept up the gaze, leaning over him for good effect, towering over his tiny cowering frame.

    ¡°That¡¯s it.¡± He closed his eyes tight, knowing what was about to come next. He heard the sound of her sword leaving its scabbard. It¡¯s finally happening. Lord knows I deserve this.

    ¡°Look at me!¡± she bellowed.

    He peeked open one eye, then the other. She was looking down her sword, pointed straight at his face. Cringing, his eyes met hers, his back flat against the ground.

    ¡°Don¡¯t cross me again.¡± She sheathed her sword and turned away for a moment, then snapped back, looking him dead in the eyes again. ¡°You saved my life at great expense to yourself, so something in that fuzzy little head of yours must have changed. I¡¯ll give you mercy for that.¡±

    The fox was frozen, unsure what to do, still pressed flat to the ground. Althea watched him, then shuffled a hoof around in the grass. She kicked a pebble with her foreleg at him, hitting his side to break him out of his frozen fear.

    She broke the silence with a laugh. ¡°Frankly, I¡¯m kind of impressed. For the past couple weeks, I¡¯ve been asking some of these villagers about adventurers they saw head to that forest. None were ever seen again.¡±

    At that, he seemed to deflate even more, ashamed of himself.

    Her face softened and she lifted a brow. ¡°There were some pretty skilled and notorious people you managed to wipe out in the past few years. Mostly assholes and a few murderhobos, but still competent.¡±

    Phineas got up off the ground, standing on his hind legs, still shaking. He brushed some grass off his fur, still watching the centaur closely in case this was some cruel trick. ¡°Um, thank you, I guess?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re welcome¡± she said with a scoff. She gestured to him to head back to the road. ¡°I¡¯d sure like to know exactly how you pulled that off, leading that many people to their doom.¡± She began to trot back to the road.

    He gave her a puzzled look, then shrugged his shoulders. ¡°I would too.¡± He dropped back to all four legs and trotted alongside her. Suddenly, emotions began to overwhelm him, years of repressed rage bubbling up. ¡°They would come into my territory acting like they owned the place. They¡­ would threaten me. That infuriated me.¡± At that, his teeth bared, brows furrowed, and he spoke in a tone Althea had never heard from the furry runt before. His tailed swished angrily as he spat it out - ¡°So I made sure they found what they were looking for.¡±

    For a moment, just a moment, Althea thought she saw a flash of fire in his eyes. Not metaphorically, but literally. Then the fox relaxed, shook his head, and returned to the same old dorky Phinney she was used to. Where was that anger when I had a sword pulled on him? What is the deal with this fox?

    ¡°I¡¯ll let you in on a little secret.¡± She leaned down, closer to him.

    He stepped close to her, still trembling slightly.

    ¡°I don¡¯t like adventurers either.¡±

    He cocked his head to the side in confusion, and his face scrunched up. Huh?

 No Swordsman Here

    As the road wound between increasingly larger foothills, the mountains came into clearer sight.  At last, the town Althea had mentioned came into view.  She called it a ¡°dirt hill - the closest thing to civilization in the western reaches.¡±  To the fox, it was massive.  Innumerable houses and buildings were nestled up to the base of the mountains.  Three roads intersected at the town, and a mountain pass stretched beyond.  Stone walls encircled most of the town, with large gates allowing traffic from the roads.  The walls cast long shadows over the surrounding fields and cottages.  Smoke from several chimneys catching the last of the evening¡¯s light.  People and carts came in and out of the gates, headed off into the night.

    ¡°Here¡¯s that lump of a town I told you about...  Dimvale, I think.  Barely a proper town.¡±  She cast a dismissive wave at the scene before them.  ¡°We don¡¯t want to head in this late in the evening.  Let¡¯s pitch camp here, then enter in the morning.¡±

    As they set up camp some distance from the road, Phineas started rubbing his feet again.  ¡°All this travel is killing my paws!¡±  He looked up at her with a wince.  ¡°These stony roads are awful.  You¡¯ve got those steel shoes to protect you.  I¡¯ve just got these delicate paws.¡±

    Althea took a closer look.  The pads of his paws were red and sore looking.  She amazed herself in that she started to feel sorry for the furry runt.  ¡°Didn¡¯t your old man do a bunch of travelling and rogue stuff?  He must have dealt with it.  Did he have, like, fox boots?¡±  She furrowed her brow while looking at the fox.  ¡°Isn¡¯t there a story about that ¨C about a cat in boots?  You¡¯d be about the same size.¡±

    ¡°My dad always said cats were jerks ¨C he said to never rely on them.¡±  He sat back, eyes moving back and forth as he tried to remember.  ¡°I never saw anything like boots at home, and they never came up.  Aprons for work and gloves for the fish nets, but nothing like boots.¡±  He looked down at himself, then back up at her with a grin.  ¡°Aprons are valuable when a fox stands up.  We have very important things to protect.¡±

    Althea let out a groan and threw a piece of firewood at him.  ¡°Ugh.  Just get the fire going, will ya?¡±

    He jumped out of the way of the wood and let out a laugh.  ¡°Alright, alright.¡±  He started piling the firewood and tinder as she gathered it.  ¡°Say, could we work more on sword fighting in the morning?  I want to try again.  I think I¡¯m getting it.¡±

    She started to roll her eyes, but she saw the eager plea on his face.  Humoring him, she agreed.  ¡°Alright, we¡¯ll try again tomorrow.¡±

    As night fell, a brisk northern wind came down from the mountains, hampering the lighting of the fire.  Unconsciously, the two found themselves huddling up against each other in the cold breeze, the fox sheltering from the wind in the centaur¡¯s shadow.  Phineas went through his pack and her rations, assessing what little they had left.

    ¡°We don¡¯t have much left for food, unless you want what I can catch and more hardtack.¡±

    The thought of any more rabbit, vole stir fry, or another round of berry surprise (the surprise had been vomiting and diarrhea) turned her stomach.  Since he didn¡¯t have any common currency, his share towards the journey¡¯s expense was hunting and cooking.  Althea didn¡¯t care much for hunting herself, so she¡¯d been using her coin purse to pay for additional rations along the way.

    ¡°We can finish it off tonight and tomorrow.  We have lots to do in town before we cross the mountain pass.  I¡¯ve got to get my armor repaired and we¡¯ll resupply.  And, no matter what, I am going to get a night in a proper bed.¡±

    This last statement got the fox¡¯s attention.  He perked up, looking at her inquisitively.

    She gestured towards the distant town.  ¡°That dump is just big enough to have some suitable rooms for centaurs.  There¡¯s an inn I stayed in on the way west that has proper lodging.¡±  She stretched out her arms, with tired eyes still dreamy of a comfortable place to sleep after all this time on the road.  With a yawn, she declared ¡°You¡¯ve got first watch.  Get me up when it¡¯s my turn.¡±  She settled down near the fire, a blanket thrown over herself.

    -------------

    Althea jolted awake, pulse pounding.  She shook her head, trying to clear the vestiges of that old nightmare from her mind.  She looked around, trying to find Phinney.  The fire had burned down low, and he was nowhere in sight.  She got back on her hooves, slowly looking for him in the dim moonlight.  She stepped cautiously, mindful of the silence in the night.

    She found him in an open spot in the moonlight, kneeling in the grass.  She approached quietly, trying not to give away her presence.  As she got closer, she could see that his front paws were clasped together, eyes closed.  His lips were moving silently, and tears streamed from his closed eyes.

    The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

    He looks like he¡¯s praying.

    She quietly retreated to the camp, carefully avoiding any misstep that could create noise.   I don¡¯t want to mess with this, she thought.  She laid back down, pulling the blanket over herself, and pretended to go back to sleep while thinking about what she saw.

    Soon, he returned to the camp, giving her prod.  ¡°Your watch, Stony,¡± he said tiredly.  He moved a few feet away, then curled up in a ball.  He seemed to collapse in exhaustion.

    Althea got back up on her hooves, rolling her blanket back into her pack.  It¡¯s kind of unfair that I can mostly sleep while still standing up, she thought.  She got into her ¡°watch pose,¡± knees locked, hand on her sword hilt, then drifted off into a light doze.

    -------------

    As the sun rose, Althea gave the fox his now customary morning kick in the side.  ¡°Up and at ¡®em fuzzy!¡±  He awoke with a start, wiping the drool from his mouth with a paw.  He got to work reviving the fire and preparing breakfast from their paltry supplies.  He worked furiously with his tiny skillet, cooking the dried fish and rations into a passable meal.  The last of his berry preserves from home went onto the hardtack.

    He looked up at Althea from the fire.  ¡°You know, I¡¯m going to need a bigger skillet.  Cooking for you is a challenge on this old iron.¡±

    She faked offense, holding her hand to her mouth.  ¡°What are you implying, that I eat too much?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ve got to be nearly fifty times my size, Your Largeness¡± he stated as matter-of-factly as possible.

    ¡°Bite me, fish breath!¡±

    -------------

    With breakfast done and cleaned up, Phineas was ready for his lessons.  He stood on his hind paws, family dagger in his right paw, unpredictably hopping back and forth like she had shown him.  The dagger, relative to his size, looked more like a sword.

    ¡°Come on, I¡¯ve got this, this time!  En garde!¡±

    Althea sighed, seeing where this was going.  He just won¡¯t give up.

    She drew a sword with her right hand, preparing herself as her old instructor had shown her so many times.  He just won¡¯t face the reality of this.

    Phineas swished his blade around, trying to make a show of his sword control.  He even managed to not drop it this time.  ¡°Don¡¯t hold back!  I¡¯ve got to learn this!¡±

    With a sigh, Althea went through the motions.  She lightly tapped her sword against his blade a few times, giving him the feel of a battle.  Then, once she was done playing, she used a portion of her full force to strike his sword while he danced around.  This cleanly knocked the blade from his hand.

    ¡°Ow! Ow! Owwy!¡± Phineas was holding his right paw and jumping up and down, ignoring his fallen blade.  He then looked up at her, remembering what she had tried to teach him, then picked it back up.  ¡°Again!¡±

    -------------

    Once the campsite was packed up and fire doused, the pair looked onward to the city ¨C or dirt heap, as Althea termed it.  The fox had wrapped a bandage tight around his right paw and wrist to try to contain the swelling.

    She watched him, thinking about all the failed attempts at teaching him proper swords-man?-ship.  ¡°You know, you may be making some wrong assumptions about how your old man used that blade.¡±

    He looked up from his wrapped paw at her, ears perked up.

    ¡°I¡¯m thinking your fox, uh, nature, may just not be suited to fencing and sword battles.¡±  She tried to think of a way to be honest without hurting his pride.  ¡°You said your dad was a spy and a rogue, right?¡±

    He nodded eagerly.  ¡°That¡¯s right, in the war, fighting alongside humans, against other humans.  He even told me once about going undercover as a dog ¨C he dyed his fur black, even, and trimmed his tail.¡±  He smiled remembering the old stories his dad used to tell.

    Lifting an eyebrow at the absurd notion, she decided to ignore it and go forward.  ¡°Well, you see, spies and rogues typically don¡¯t have glorious open sword battles for their damsel in distress.  This isn¡¯t a fairy tale.¡±  Clearly getting his attention, she looked him in the eye and pointed at his dagger.  ¡°That blade there has had plenty of blood on it, I¡¯m sure ¨C from being buried in the back of unsuspecting enemies.¡±

    This idea got a droop in his ears and tail ¨C certainly not what he wanted to hear.  ¡°You¡¯re a fox ¨C use that.  You have stealth, you have trickery, you¡¯re small.  There is no such thing as a fair fight ¨C just winning or dying.  Use that blade, those teeth, and those claws of yours, to your advantage.  I¡¯ve seen you jump up and down from heights.  Use that.  Surprise your enemies.  Never give them a chance at a fair fight.¡±

    He mulled this over while Althea watched him, thinking.  I don¡¯t need him getting killed trying to be some Noble Hero.  He¡¯s a dork, but I think he¡¯s going to be a useful dork.  She thought about how he managed to wipe out one adventurer party after another just at that old keep.  He wasn¡¯t just being clever - he¡¯s got something else in him.  Something that he doesn¡¯t even realize is there.  What exactly that is, though, I need to find out.  I¡¯ve got to get back to the Order and Marcus.

    After some soul searching, he looked back up at her with hopeful eyes and gave her an answer.  ¡°Alright, I can accept that.  There¡¯s no dishonor in that, right, as long as the cause is good?¡±  He looked up at her, past shame welling up in his eyes.

    ¡°That¡¯s right¡± she affirmed.  Or if it pays well enough, she thought, realizing this wasn¡¯t quite the right time for that yet.  She gestured him back to the road.  ¡°Now come on, let¡¯s head out.  Daylight is burning.¡±

    Once they got to the road, though, he started to struggle.  He tried walking upright on his hind legs but found the stony path too painful on his paws.  He got down on all four legs, but his right foreleg was too sore from his blade getting knocked out of his paw repeatedly.  Hobbling around alongside the road wasn¡¯t much better.

    He swallowed his pride and looked up at Althea.

    ¡°Could I, you know, um¡­ ride on your back like in the forest?¡±

    She gritted her teeth and looked down at him, daggers in her eyes.  ¡°We said we¡¯d never talk about that again!¡±

    He looked up at her with wide amber eyes, his bandaged paw raised.  ¡°Please?¡±

 Witchfire and Moonlight

    Althea trotted up to the west gate amongst the stream of traders and farmers queued up to enter the town.  Phineas was curled up on the centaur¡¯s back, tail tight around himself, keeping a low profile.  His eyes flicked back and forth, watching the crowd with keen interest.  They were in line behind a farmer with a cart full of wool for the market.  A man was at a booth before the gate, stopping and questioning every party entering, getting coins in return.  Concerned, Phineas poked a wet nose at Althea¡¯s neck and whispered to her.  ¡°Who¡¯s that man up there?  Why is he stopping people and taking their money?¡±

    She swatted at her neck and exclaimed with irritation, ¡°Don¡¯t do that!¡±  She then turned her head to whisper back.  ¡°That¡¯s a tax collector.  I¡¯ll handle it, just keep quiet back there.  Just act¡­¡±  She struggled with the right word to apply for him. ¡°Normal.¡±  Seeing his wide-eyed look, she continued whispering.  ¡°You know, do that thing you do, where no one notices you, or they¡¯re really nice to you.¡±

    He whispered back.  ¡°What do you mean thing I do?  I don¡¯t have a thing ¨C I¡¯m just a fox.¡±

    She rolled her eyes at him.  ¡°Really?  Still playing that game?¡±  She turned around, ready to move forward in the queue.  Phineas curled up again on her back, returning to people watching.  Do I really have a ¡®thing¡¯ that I do?

    The cart ahead of them went forward and Althea presented herself in front of the official.  He wore what somewhat passed for an official uniform, with faded gold piping on a threadbare burgundy surcoat and britches.  His face seemed gaunt, dominated with poorly shaved stubble.  He looked Althea up and down, particularly lingering on her swords at her sides and the gashes in her armor.  ¡°Do you have official business here, adventurer?¡±

    Althea took a deep breath, reminding herself she wasn¡¯t here to fight with this fool today.  ¡°I¡¯m on an official research mission for the Order of the Silver Star.¡±  She produced a small booklet from her side pouch and handed it down to him.  ¡°Here¡¯s my Adventurer¡¯s Guild papers with mission stamps.¡±

    The tax collector looked at the papers with disdain.

    Before he could speak again, Althea interjected.  ¡°The Order has an advantaged position for taxes in all of the western realms, including here.¡±

    The man looked her over again, trying to find something to tax her for.  ¡°What¡¯s with the fox?¡± he demanded, pointing at Phineas.  He shrunk down, not liking attention from the tax man.

    ¡°Research specimen for the Order.  My papers specifically cover research articles and materials,¡± she stated matter-of-factly, pointing at details in her booklet.  ¡°I¡¯m sure your local,¡± Althea waved with contempt at the town, ¡°noble wouldn¡¯t want to get on the bad side of the Order.¡±

    With disgust, he tossed her booklet back up to her.  ¡°Go on in, then.  Welcome to Dinsvale.¡±

    Satisfied, Althea returned her booklet to her bag and headed towards the gate.  As they passed by, the official was surprised to see the fox on her back make a rather rude gesture at him.  The bustling sounds of the town grew as they entered through the gate, engulfing Phineas in the uncomfortable racket.

    The streets inside the walls were busy, from simple farmers with their wares to fancier folk, and from ordinary humans to elves and dwarves and even a few centaurs.  The centaurs Phineas saw in the streets were markedly different from Althea.  They had little human ears, not the big soft pointed equine ears she had, and overall were just smaller.  They also dressed much less modestly, with equine anatomy visible to all around.  The centaurs in the city matched the ones he¡¯d seen coming through his forest in years past ¨C not Althea.  She wasn¡¯t like them, but he didn¡¯t know why.  He tucked that thought away, thinking it important to whatever her quest of discovery was.

    One sorely missing figure, though, to Phineas, was fellow Voxa.  His parents had told him stories of cities and markets, and he had foolish hope he¡¯d see someone like him, despite what Althea had told him.  He sullenly slumped back down after a while, trying to keep a low profile.  I don¡¯t need to stand out to all these two-legs.  Althea noticed his change in demeanor as she trotted through the city streets.

    After a while, Althea reached back to poke Phineas.  ¡°Hey, Foxey Loxey, I found a place you may be interested in.¡±

    He perked up, sitting up and looking around.  They were in front of a structure with large windows.  Inside there were shelves full of ¨C books!

    Althea carefully entered the front door, ducking to clear the lintel.  Once inside, she reached back to pick up Phineas and unceremoniously dump him on the floor.

    ¡°Ow!  My paws!¡± complained Phineas loudly, shaking them one at a time.

    The proprietor, a primly dressed woman with slightly pointed ears, looked at them suspiciously.  Her eyes played across the dirty, damaged armor of the centaur and unusual fox now in her store.

    ¡°Excuse me, would you be able to help me find some contemporary fiction?  Something in the last, say, fifty years?¡±  She leaned in and added, ¡°something cheap, as well.¡±

    Phineas¡¯ ears perked up at the sound of Althea¡¯s request, and his tail started to wag uncontrollably.  Something new to read!

    The shopkeeper left her counter, still wary of the odd duo now in her store.  She searched her shelves, mumbling to herself, repeatedly looking down at Phineas.  Finally, she came across a worn title that seemed to satisfy her.  She held it up to Althea, then down low to Phineas, to show them the tattered book.  ¡°Witchfire and Moonlight ¨C will that work?¡±

    Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.

    ¡°Yes please!¡± blurted out Phineas, confirming the storekeeper¡¯s suspicions.

    ¡°We¡¯ll, I mean I¡¯ll, take the book¡± stammered out Althea, blushing a bit.  She handed over some small copper coins from her pouch and they left the store.  The shopkeeper watched as they left, slowly nodding to herself.

    Once back in the street, she scooped up Phineas without a second thought and trotted along to her next destination.  He quickly opened the book, absorbed in the idea of a new story to read.  He¡¯d read his parents¡¯ old library over and over again ¨C this was something new!

    He was so engrossed in the story that Althea had to give him a nudge when they stopped again.  Looking up, they were in the wide entrance of a building he did not understand.  The air smelled moist, like hot water and fragrant scents.  Shelves were filled with towels, and painted art covered the whitewashed walls.

    She placed him on a low bench, a bit more carefully this time.  ¡°Stay here, alright?  I¡¯ll be back in a while.¡±  He looked around nervously at the strange location, uncertain about being alone.  She began to trot off but then turned back.  She raised an eyebrow at him.  ¡°That magic bag of yours, how much more can fit in it?¡±

    He gave her a shrug.  ¡°I don¡¯t know ¨C everything I¡¯ve tried has fit so far.¡±  Guessing her intent, he opened the bag to her.  The satchel, sized for a fox, looked so small from the outside.  She gave it a critical look, then detached her swords from her side.  She scanned the lobby to check that no one was paying any attention to them.  With a sigh, she put one sword after another in the tiny satchel, disappearing inside without any trouble.  With a cringe, she followed the swords with her main money pouch.   ¡°Keep these safe for me, will you?  Don¡¯t wander off.¡±  She walked behind a set of wide swinging doors, leaving him alone in the lobby.  He secluded himself in a corner and wrapped his tail around himself, forgetting everything but his new book.

    Sometime later ¨C he wasn¡¯t sure, since he¡¯d lost track of time eagerly reading ¨C Althea returned, knocking him on the side of the head with a hoof to get his attention.  ¡°Time to go, fuzzball.¡±

    He looked up and was startled, seeing a sight he¡¯d never even thought to imagine.  Althea had doffed her armor and barding for a long, dark green dress.  The velvety green was trimmed with a white brocade, while a simple embroidery of flowers decorated the front, encompassing her equine half, low to the ground.  His eyes slowly went upwards to her human portion where the dress continued.  It was conservative, but not too stuffy, close to her feminine figure previously difficult to discern under her armor.  Her hair was pulled back in a clean tight braid, carefully edged around her soft pointed horse ears.

    Phineas found himself amazed at the transformation.  Despite everything they¡¯d been through in the forest and the journey here, he was seeing Althea in a whole different light now.  She seemed relaxed, happier, and certainly much cleaner than at any point in their journey together.  Her face was soft, clean, and perhaps even had a hint of powder.  The faint smell of lilacs seemed to follow her.  He found himself puzzled, head unconsciously tilting to the side, unable to understand what he was seeing and feeling.

    ¡°Alright fuzzball, close your jaw and let¡¯s get going.  The armorer will be open only so much longer.¡±  She only carried a dainty purse, having sent her gear onward.  ¡°You¡¯ve got to chance those precious paws of yours on the city roads for the rest of the night,¡± she said with a wink.

    She tossed the bag over her should and headed out the door.  As she left the bathhouse, he followed along, still trying to process the transformation.  She¡¯s¡­ pretty?

    Phineas was pondering this as he tried to keep up with her through the busy town streets.  He found himself watching her majestic form, so exotic now in the long green dress.  He saw the warrior centaur in a whole new light.

    ¡°Here we are ¨C MacTarge & Sons.¡±  She gestured at the large sign of a round shield with a roaring red lion.  ¡°Let¡¯s find out how much the damage is.¡±  As she pushed through the door, Phineas hurried to not get stuck outside in the waning sunlight.

    The stocky armorer behind the counter looked up from the steel shield he had been polishing.  His arms were cris-crossed with many scars, his leather apron draped with a long red beard.  The shop was full of leather, mail, and plate armor in various sizes.  Everything from dirks to great swords lined one wall, while sundry adventuring gear lined another.  There was even a small section for cooking and fishing.

    The shield the man had been polishing emitted a faint blue and black glow, signaling it was no normal steel.  ¡°Ach, yer the lassie with the tore up leatherwork!  Quite the job ya did on it!¡±

    ¡°Yeah, yeah,¡± she replied, rolling her eyes down at the armorer.  ¡°How much to fix it this time?¡±

    Phineas looked up at her from the floor, cocking his head with the obvious question.  ¡°What happened last time?¡±

    She looked down at him, embarrassment creeping in.  ¡°That mountain pass ahead is dangerous.  I had some, well, trouble getting here the first time.¡±

    After a surprised look down at the talking fox, the armorer looked back up at Althea and laughed.  ¡°Trouble, lassie?  Ya¡¯ bout near got sawed in twain!¡±  He held up the shield he had been polishing.  ¡°Those fancy wizard friends of yer¡¯s won¡¯t front ya any enchanted spec?  How ¡®bout you buy the good stuff?¡±

    She drummed her fingers on the counter, giving the man an annoyed stare.  ¡°Look, I told you, your enchanted crap is no good for me.  See?¡±  She grabbed the glowing shield from his hands abruptly.  Once she had a grasp on it, the glow quickly faded away to nothing.

    The armorer¡¯s eyes bugged out at the sight.  ¡°Me shield!  That cost a heap ¡®a gold!  Yer gonna pay for it!¡±

    She tossed the shield back at the burly blubbering man.  ¡°It¡¯s fine, just wait.¡±

    After recovering from the impact of heavy flying shield, he watched it with concern.  The same glow returned, with the same intensity as before.  Looking back up at her, bewildered, he sputtered out ¡°Are ye a witch?¡±

    She shook her head, brow furrowed in aggravation.  ¡°Just the opposite.  I can¡¯t do magic, and magic doesn¡¯t work on me!¡±  She began venting, with Phineas and the armorer watching in silence.  ¡°Imagine how that works out when you¡¯re raised by wizards!  Why do you think I¡¯m just some dumb warrior, with not even one bit of enchanted gear, not even one spell I can perform!¡±  She slammed her fists down on the counter, towering over the man.  ¡°So, how much to fix my armor?¡±

    The rage Phineas saw in her contrasted so strongly with the lovely dress she wore.  Her tan skin was flushed dark red against the green velvet, and her temper and counter-shaking blows showed that she in fact did have plenty of good qualities to be a warrior.

    ¡°Ach, lassie, 10 sovereigns this time.  It¡¯ll be ready by morrow¡¯s eve.¡±  The burly man was shaken up by the centaur¡¯s rage, but insistent on the price.  The proclamation of not being a witch seemed to reassure the man a bit.

    ¡°10 sovereigns!  That¡¯s absurd!¡±  Althea stomped her hooves in frustration, but she knew she didn¡¯t have any other options.

    ¡°Lassie, there¡¯s hardly a major stitch unbroken!  I can¡¯t help if yer rough on yer gear!¡±  Although shaken, the man stood firm on the price.

    Phineas had an idea.  Let¡¯s turn on the charm and try this ¡®thing¡¯ Althea says I have.  He jumped up on the counter, surprising the man.  ¡°Fine sir, I have a mutually beneficial business proposal for you.  How would you like the opportunity to be the exclusive, official, leather goods and gear outfitter for all the Voxa in the Western Reaches?¡±

 The Fine Art of Brisket Appreciation

    Althea and Phineas arrived at their inn for the night, laughing away.  The hanging sign had the figures of a centaur and a griffin, the name ¡°Mystic Haven¡± in filigreed letters.

    ¡°I can¡¯t believe you got him to buy that idea!¡±  Althea was still shaking her head in amusement.

    ¡°Well, he didn¡¯t ask how many other talking animals there were.¡±

    Laughter turned to anticipation as the pair approached the door.

    ¡°Tonight, we are going to get some proper food.  No more game.¡±   Althea shuddered at the thought of more vole saut¨¦.  She pushed the swinging door open, waving Phineas inside.  ¡°This evening you get to see what a proper tavern looks like.¡±  The smells wafting from inside were intriguing, setting his nose and whiskers trembling in anticipation.

    The tavern attached to their inn was large, with a great hearth blazing with a warm bright fire.  A bar lined one wall, full of patrons getting sodden after a long market day.  A large section of tables filled the open floor, in varied sizes to accommodate diverse patrons.  The publican had cobbled together seating for the mismatched pair at Althea¡¯s prodding.  She had a long bench contoured for a centaur, and Phineas had what may have been a chair for a gnome.  The table was tall enough for comfortable dining and conversation, though.  The barmaid approached, asking what Althea would like from a selection of meats and breads.  It all seemed like some complicated two-legs setup to Phineas.  Althea had insisted it was worth it, though, so he shrugged and played along.  The barmaid gave Phineas a funny look, suspicious as to why a fox was at the table

    ¡°I¡¯ll have the roast boar and barley loaves.¡±  Althea narrowed her eyes at Phineas, thinking what would be new and exciting to him.  She pointed and said smiling, ¡°For him, the gnome-sized brisket and yeast rolls.  Lots of butter for both of us.¡±  She flipped a silver coin at the barmaid.  ¡°Get some spiced ale coming as well ¨C for both of us.¡±

    The barmaid looked back and forth between the two, then shrugged and walked away.

    Phineas groaned, rubbing his paws on his temples.  ¡°Not more ale!¡±  His first and last experience had turned him off the idea.

    Althea dismissed this with a wave of her hand.  ¡°Don¡¯t worry fish breath, this is way better stuff than that grog in that village.  You¡¯ll see.¡±  The barmaid returned with two comically differently sized mugs.  A huge stein for Althea, and a miniature mug for Phineas.

    The barmaid let out a surprised gasp when Phineas reached out and grabbed the handle with his paw.  Looking up at her, Phineas rolled his eyes.  ¡°Don¡¯t worry, I¡¯m not going to lap it up.  I¡¯m a civilized fox.¡±  He gave the ale a sniff, smelling citrus and spicy aromas.  With a little hmmpf, he picked up the mug and gave it a try.

    Setting it down, he gave Althea a satisfied smile.  ¡°Alright, I¡¯ll give this another try.  Good stuff.¡±

    Althea laughed, then lifted her own stein into the air.  ¡°To good stuff, then!¡±

    They sat there, nursing their ales while waiting for their food.

    ¡°You see, fuzzball, the distinction is knowing when to stop.¡±  With some deeper introspection, she continued. ¡°Or recognizing the times when you need a good friend and more drinks¡±

    Friends, he thought, watching the centaur drink her ale and continue to chatter, expounding the virtues and dangers of ale.  His mind drifted, thinking of the past while staring at his mug.  I¡¯ve never had a real friend.  He thought of his lonesome years ¨C no, decades - in the forest.  He¡¯d even tried striking up the ogres for conversation when they arrived in his part of the forest, but that had been a nonstarter.  I always chit-chatted with the adventurers headed to the old keep, getting some good banter sometimes, acting the fool sometimes.  Then they¡¯d become ogre meal, impaled on a trap, or get cursed by some old magic, transformed into a newt - something would always happen.  Then I¡¯d scurry off, alone again.  He had his parents¡¯ books and memories to keep him company, while trying not to think of his life going by.

    He knew, though, that it had all been slipping away.  Out in that forest, he¡¯d been slowly losing his sense of self, his psyche, drifting into animal mindlessness more and more frequently.  Mom told me I¡¯d lose my spark if I didn¡¯t stay civilized.  That¡¯s what happens to Voxa. He forced himself to admit it, morosely.  It was happening to me.  Althea saw it when I went after those fish in the creek.  She still teases me about it, not knowing what it really meant.  He looked back up at Althea, still oblivious to his inner monologue.  She was happy, full of life, a big smile on her face, ears perked forward at Phineas.  She saved me.  She saved my life.  The thought brought a smile to his fox face.  She¡¯s really my friend.

    ¡°Wake up, bushy-butt!¡±

    He shook out of his wandering thoughts, looking around with a start.  He realized he¡¯d been staring at her a little too long.  The barmaid was back with their food and another stein for Althea.

    ¡°Oh yeah, sorry, just my mind drifting.¡±  He gave a nervous little laugh while Althea pondered the strange behavior ¨C strange even for him.

    He sniffed his plate, then realized that the strange meat in front of him was the most fragrant, delicious smelling, rich, smoky, wonderful thing he¡¯d ever smelled.  He grabbed his fork and knife, cutting into the slab of meat with barely contained enthusiasm.  He was delighted to find that the meat just pulled apart effortlessly, savory juices running out.  It was like a divine offering, but just for himself.

    Looking up with excited eyes, he asked ¡°What did you call this again?¡±

    That got another smile from Althea.  ¡°Brisket.  Enjoy!¡±

    He tore into the brisket with gusto, savoring every juicy bit.  The soft yeast rolls melted in his mouth, the warm rich butter dripping down.  With ale to wash it down, this was the best thing the aspiring forest gourmand had ever dreamed of.

    When he was coming up for air, he noticed the massive rack of boar Althea had been served, with two large loaves of bread.  She tore into her meal with a savage hunger that belied the otherwise delicate appearance in her dress.  Downing the remainder of her second (or maybe third?) stein in a mighty gulp, she let out a most decidedly un-ladylike belch.

    At the end of the feeding frenzy, Phineas leaned back in his chair, belly fuller than he¡¯d felt in a long time.  The ale had been working as well, giving the evening a warm glow.  Althea finally seemed sated as well, untold amounts of food disappearing to fulfill her hunger.  She leaned back from the table, patting her ¨C belly? - contentedly.  With a centaur, how does that work, anyways?  Phineas suddenly wondered.  She¡¯s part two-legs, part horse.  Which parts have what?  He started to ask her, but then realized how crude that would sound.  No matter what, she¡¯s got a whole lot to feed.  How it all works doesn¡¯t matter.

    ¡°Boy, that mind is going to wander off a cliff if you¡¯re not careful.¡±  Althea¡¯s tone snapped him back to reality.  ¡°You¡¯ve got butter dripping down your fur, by the way.¡±

    Phineas looked down, embarrassed, and wiped his fur clean as best he could with a napkin.

    ¡°You¡¯re going to need a bath, the way you¡¯re headed,¡± she teased, shaking her head with a smile.  ¡°The ladies would have fun with your fur at the bathhouse.¡±

    ¡°I, uh, I¡¯ve got it.¡±  He could feel his face burning, skin thankfully hidden under his fur.  ¡°No need for that.¡±  He dabbed at the butter in his fur fruitlessly with a napkin.

    She drummed her fingers on the table lightly, changing tone suddenly.  ¡°Speaking of needs¡­¡± she looked around the tavern, then back down at Phineas.  ¡°You¡¯re out of money, right?¡±

    He nodded, fading back into the warmth of more ale.  ¡°I just have those little coins left, that you said to save for your friend to look at.¡±

    You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

    She took another large swig of ale, then set her stein down carefully, seemingly finally feeling the effect of unknown pints of ale.  ¡°After my armor repair, I¡¯m going to be broke.¡±  She looked at Phineas in the eyes, wondering about how this next step would go.  He waited in anticipation, not knowing what she was going to say.  ¡°If it hadn¡¯t been for that deal you¡¯d made, I couldn¡¯t have afforded this dinner.¡±

    After a pause, she continued.  ¡°We - you need a job.  Cooking and hunting won¡¯t cut it.¡±

    He did not like where this was going at all.  ¡°But what?¡± he asked, whiskers and ears drooping with fear.  ¡°What can I do?¡±

    ¡°You agreed to join me on my quest, and I said we¡¯d split the spoils.¡±  She continued to tap her fingers on the table, looking away absently.  ¡°We need to split the labor as well.¡±

    ¡°You know, you¡¯ve still not told me - ¡°

    Althea cut him off.  ¡°Caravans go back and forth through that mountain pass for trade, between this dump into the civilized world.  They hire armed escorts all the time.  We¡¯ve got to go that way anyways.   We¡¯ll get a contract tomorrow, and then we get paid to do what we were going to do anyways!¡±  She was smiling down at Phineas that made him nervous.  ¡°You can do it.  Fake it ¡®til you make it, right?¡±

    This had Phineas very concerned.  ¡°We need to get a contract?  How does that even work?¡±  He looked down, thinking of earlier, then looked back up her with fear.  ¡°Wait, is this the same mountain pass where the armorer said you were nearly cut in half?¡±

    With a cheerful tone, she responded, "Yep, that''s correct!"  She reached out and patted Phineas¡¯ paw on the table. ¡°This will be a great lesson for you.  Call it Intro to Adventuring 101.¡±

    Adventurer?  Me?  His eyes darted around unfocused, mind racing at the implications of this journey.  But I hate adventurers.  Don¡¯t I?  He looked up at Althea, talking again, but he was too lost in his own twisting thoughts to hear what she was saying.  She¡¯s an adventurer, and I certainly don¡¯t hate her.  But she said she doesn¡¯t like adventurers either.  What does that mean?

    She hadn¡¯t stopped talking. ¡°- That¡¯s all it takes to get you inducted as an apprentice.  There¡¯s a small hall here in this anthill.  I¡¯ll sponsor you in the morning.  Sound good?¡±

    ¡°Huh?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s all it takes.¡±  She looked at him, brow furrowed again.  ¡°You were listening, right?  It¡¯s important.¡±

    ¡°Oh yes, of course.¡±  He grabbed his mug tight, taking another drink.  ¡°Handle it in the morning, yes.¡±

    ¡°Good.¡±

    After that, a stumbling younger man in a scarlet tunic bumped into Althea, spilling his drink on himself.  He looked up at her in surprise, having somehow missed the huge centaur in the tavern.

    ¡°Watch it you @&^$ing idiot!¡±  Althea gestured at the man, then turned back to Phineas.  ¡°So, as I was saying, once you¡¯re registered, then-¡°

    Althea was cut off by the man, not content to go on his way, shoving her in the side.  ¡°Who do you think you¡¯re talking to, tall stuff?!¡±

    The man stepped back, laughing with his similarly fashionably dressed man in a green tunic that had walked up.

    Althea stood up, rising from the bench to tower over the men.  ¡°Some @&^$ing idiots, that¡¯s who!¡±  Sizing up the situation, she felt out of place in civilian clothes, without her armor and swords.  Stupid dress, she thought.  I try to dress like a girl for once, and I get this.  Even without my gear, though, these bastards won¡¯t be a challenge to scare off.

    ¡°Yeah, a bunch of ignorant folks!¡±

    The laughing stopped and all eyes turned to Phineas, who was standing up on the table.  He was giving what Althea supposed was an attempt at a swagger, his paw on the hilt of his blade.  She placed her hand on her forehead and shook her head in dismay.  Well, this got worse.

    At the sight of the fox, the first man started laughing hysterically, bent over while pointing at Phineas.  ¡°Wait, what, you¡¯ve got your pet here to defend you?¡±  The man in the green tunic joined in, mocking Phineas and Althea.

    Phineas bared his teeth and started to make a move towards the men, but Althea leaned over to hold him back with her right hand.  Barely moving her lips, she let out a hushed, sidelong whisper. ¡°Not here. Not now.  They¡¯re not worth a fight.¡±

    The man strutted forward, leering as he looked Althea up and down in her dress.  ¡°Well, you tavern mule, maybe what you need is to find out what a proper man¡¯s like.¡±

    Althea spotted out the corner of her eye another man, apparently a compatriot, trying to sneak up from her rear right side.  Just then, the first belligerent reached out and had the nerve to grab her flank, stroking the velvet of her dress.

    Smiling, she was back in her element of fighting.  Game on!

    As the man attempted to approach from the reach, she turned and bucked up, kicking him across the room with a powerful kick of her hind legs.  The hand that had been holding back Phineas swung out to squarely punch the first man in the jaw, while her left pulled a dagger from under a pleat of her dress.

    Unrestrained, Phineas leapt from the table at the first jerk¡¯s buddy face, a feral snarl emitting from his bared fangs.  The jerk¡¯s friend seemed shocked to have a snarling red ball of claws and teeth at his neck.

    As the original jerk staggered back from the punch, Althea approached with her dagger in hand.  The jerk was focused on the dagger, completely unprepared for when she tripped him up with a foreleg.  He fell flat on his back, stunned, and Althea pinned him down with a hoof on his chest.  She surveyed the room, tossing the dagger from her left to right hand.

    ¡°Anyone else want to interrupt my dinner with my friend?¡±

    The room was quiet.  The man that had been kicked across the room started to get up, but fell back down, the wind knocked out of him.  She put a bit more weight down on the scarlet-tunic man¡¯s chest to make sure he got the point.  Phineas was still snarling and attacking, like furry red lighting clawing and biting at the third man, his big fluffy tail sticking out as he eluded the man¡¯s grasp.

    ¡°Any takers?¡±  Her eyes darted around the room, trying to find anyone that wanted to try her.

    No one wanted to take that offer.

    Althea saw Phineas¡¯ paw going to his dagger.  Oh no, we do NOT need this tonight.

    ¡°Let him go Phinney,¡± her voice boomed out.  ¡°He needs to help his buddies out of here.¡±

    Phineas and the man both stopped their fight, each looking up at her.  Reluctantly, Phineas jumped down and headed back to the table.  The third rabblerouser, disoriented at first, saw his friends on the ground.  Althea gave just a little more push down on the original jerk, feeling the satisfying crack of a rib before letting up.  The man groaned and tried to roll over as she walked away.

    ¡°Well, it¡¯s been a long day.¡±  She let out a long yawn and stretched out her arms.  ¡°Time for bed!  I¡¯ll take of the dinner bill, tonight.¡±  She confidently stepped towards the thin, balding innkeeper at the bar, making a point to ignore the injured men.

    She waved Phineas over towards herself.  ¡°C¡¯mon fuzzball, tomorrow¡¯s another big day.  A step towards you paying for your own brisket.¡±

    Phineas looked around the room, still trying to take in what had happened.  The man he¡¯d been attacking was slowly backing up from him and Althea, hands up and open, walking sideways towards his disabled friends.  He was bleeding from multiple scratches and bites, his stylish green tunic torn to shreds.

    Phineas followed Althea, past the end of the bar, down a wide hallway.  Several of the doors had poorly drawn creatures on them, seeming to indicate specialty rooms.  She stopped in front of a wide, tall door with what was possibly the worst ¡°artistic¡± drawing of a centaur ever attempted.  Althea shook her head in disgust, then opened the door.  Phineas was curious as to what would be inside.

    Inside was what looked like a massive pile of pillows and large cushions, arranged for a centaur to be comfortable.  An oil lantern burned in the room, with soot staining the dingy whitewashed ceiling above.  Threadbare blankets were folded on a high table at the edge of the room.  Althea inspected the blankets and kicked some of the cushions with a hoof, grumbling under her breath.  An old, tattered rug covered most of the floorboards.

    ¡°This¡¯ll have to do.¡±  She looked around the room, thinking about the arrangements.  She then grabbed one of the larger pillows and tossed it to an empty corner of the room.  She pointed and said, ¡°That¡¯s for you.¡±  She barred the door, then easily dragged the table in front of the door for good measure.

    Phineas noticed that Althea¡¯s pack had already been delivered to the room, with an old brass lock securing the contents.  He took his own satchel off, unsure of what to do with it.  The memory of the barfight was fresh in his mind.  A comfy pillow was hardly what he was thinking of ¨C he could still taste the man¡¯s blood on his teeth.

    He removed his baldric and blade as well, stacking them in the corner with his pillow.  Looking back up, he was surprised to see Althea pull two more daggers from under the pleats of her dress.  She pulled another stiletto with a key attached to the hilt from the front of her dress, using the key to unlock her pack.  She realized Phineas was watching, making her turn red.

    ¡°Turn around, will you!¡±

    Phineas dutifully turned around to face the corner.

    ¡°Don¡¯t peek!¡± she fumed at him.

    Phineas replied with a laugh, ¡°I won¡¯t peek.  We¡¯re both adults here, right?  Besides, in old stories, it never goes well when the dashing hero peeks.  You just proved again out there that you can more than take care of yourself.¡±

    He could hear her grumble something under her breath about deluded old man foxes two or three times her age, but he chose to ignore it.  Of course, like in myths and legends, the hero always peeks.  Who was Phineas to dishonor tradition?

    After some rustling and clip-clopping of hooves, she blew out the lantern, leaving only dim moonlight from a high small window to light the room.  ¡°Alright then, time for bed.¡±  His eyes quickly adjusted to the dark, allowing him to see her figure, dressed in a long silky nightgown.  She settled into the cushions and pillows of the centaur bed, a fabric mask over her eyes.  Unsurprisingly, she had a dagger next to her.

    ¡°Um, just making sure you remember that I can see in the dark, right?¡±

    The response came in the form of a pillow thrown in his general direction.  She pulled a blanket over herself, settling in for a long-needed rest.

    Phineas curled up on the pillow, thoughts still racing from the day and the dinner.  He then realized he couldn¡¯t sleep.

    ¡°Althea?¡±

    A groan came from the cushion pile.  ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°We¡¯re in this building in a big two-legs town.  Where do you, uh, you know, go?¡±

    ¡°Ugh, what do you mean?¡±

    ¡°You know, go.  This isn¡¯t the forest or road. I¡¯ve been holding it all day.¡±

    ¡°Damn it, Phinney!¡±

 Magical Creature â€“ OTHER

    It was a beautiful fall day.  The leaves had already changed into a blazing display, showing that winter would soon be here. The crisp autumn air carried the smell of dampness and wood smoke as early leaves began to fall from the trees.  Phineas was with his parents by the stream, the young kit running around and chasing the falling leaves.  His dad was tending to the fish pens in the stream, full of carp the family had been raising all summer.  His mother was tending to the charcoal pit, preparing to smoke and salt the fish for the winter. The kit was positively bouncing up and down, happy as could be to be part of the family work.   Phineas loved to be a part of the family¡¯s preparation for winter.  Each year, as he got bigger, he could help more and more.

    The winters were long in the forest and the game got scarce.  The days had been filled with collecting acorns to grind into flour, with his mother testing him along the way about his figures and spelling.  His father had been repairing the roof, tending to the fish, and preparing for when the snow came.  This was the winter when he was going to teach little Phinney how to hunt in the snow, jumping up and diving at prey.

    ¡°Dad!  Dad! You said you¡¯d show me how the pens and nets work!¡±

    The old fox smiled, wrinkling the scars that covered his face where his right eye once was, casualty of a war long past.  ¡°Of course, son.  I¡¯ve got some stories for you as well about the Loxias history.¡±

    ¡°Is it about the kitsunes, dad?¡±  The kit was beaming.

    ¡°That was long, long ago.  You don¡¯t have to be a kitsune to be a good fox.¡±  He rubbed his paw in his son¡¯s fur, tussling it up between his ears.  ¡°How about you run back to the house and grab my pliers?  I¡¯ll stay here with your mom working the charcoal until you get back.¡±

    ¡°Sure, dad!¡±  The little kit ran off, excited that he was trusted to go by himself.

    When the little foxling was almost back to the stream, he heard a commotion, then his mother screaming.  He dropped the pliers and ran to see what was happening.  His parents were trapped in a cage, held up by a large, tattooed man in leather armor. The man was accompanied by a green skinned fellow with large tusks protruding from his lower jaw - an orc.  They were laughing and shaking the cage, discussing how much money they would make.  Phineas could see his parents were wounded, caught in some kind of barbed net before being stuffed in the cage.

    ¡°NOOOOOO!!!!!¡±  Phineas ran at the man holding the cage, biting and clawing at his legs.  The man laughed and kicked Phineas against a tree, stunning the kit.

    In shock, Phineas tried to get back off the ground, but fell again.  The man handed the cage off to the orc, then started walking towards the kit with a cruel smile coming over his face.  ¡°Look at this little bonus we¡¯ve got here!¡±

    ¡°Run Phinney!!  Run as fast as you can!¡± shouted his mom.

    ¡°We¡¯ll be back son, just hide!¡± said the old fox, grabbing the wire of the cage and fighting it, trying to break it.

    The man laughed as he approached the kit, still breathless from being kicked against the tree.  Suddenly, the orc hollered.  Phineas¡¯ mom had managed to shove her snout through the wires of the cage, cutting herself, to bite the orc¡¯s finger.  This distracted the men just long enough for Phineas to recover.  The orc slammed the cage against the ground to shake the fox couple more.

    Both foxes were yelling.  ¡°Run Phinney!!  We¡¯ll find you later!¡±

    Phineas got up, shaking, looking back at his parents still screaming at him to run.  He ran as fast as he could, as far as he could go.  He eventually collapsed, out of breath and in tears.  He hid under a bush through the night, sobbing, the sight of his bloodied parents and the sound of their screaming playing over and over again in his mind.

    A swift hoof knocked him in the side.  ¡°Wake up fuzzball!¡±

    Phineas sat up, drowsy, trying to get his bearings.  He remembered the inn room, trying to shake the old familiar nightmare.  He wiped the drool from his mouth with a paw and blinked his eyes, squinting in the bright sunlight now coming through the window.

    With a rare moment of concern, Althea nudged Phineas with a hoof.

    ¡°Huh?¡±  Phineas spun around, still in a daze.

    ¡°Having a nightmare down there?  You were spazzing out.¡±

    He rubbed the back of his read with a paw, not looking directly at her.  ¡°No, it¡¯s fine.¡±

    ¡°C¡¯mon, then, we need to get you through registration so we can bid on caravan jobs.¡±  Althea picked up her purse and began tapping a hoof impatiently.  Althea was already back in her green dress, ready to go.

    Phineas slowly gathered his satchel and blade, still trying to shake the cobwebs of the old familiar nightmare from his mind.  His back was sore from his frenzied attack on the man in the tavern the night before.  ¡°Can¡¯t you just bid for it?  Why do you need me?¡±

    She grinned down at the drowsy fox.  ¡°Easy.  Two adventurers, two payments.¡±

    Impatient, she scooped him up and off they went.  As they passed the tavern area of the inn, Phineas smelled a whole new set of delicious smells.  He tried to get a look, but Althea was rushing out.  ¡°No time for breakfast today.  The Guild is sooo slow.¡±

    Althea trotted out into the sunlight, the streets of Dinsvale were already bustling with activity.  Phineas settled down on her back, trying to understand how this arrangement had gotten so familiar so quickly.  It wasn¡¯t that long ago that both of them had recoiled in horror at the idea of him riding on her back, only doing so out of dire necessity.  He thought about why that was as she navigated the busy streets.  After a short jaunt, interspersed with Althea yelling and shaking her fist at some carts, they arrived at a nondescript, decrepit building near the city wall.

    Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.

    She looked back at Phineas, rolling her eyes.  ¡°Here it is, the amazing, splendid Adventurer¡¯s Guild Hall.¡±  She pointed at the deteriorating building with disdain, then entered.

    Phineas¡¯ back tensed up, trying to control his rapid breathing while his mind raced with possibilities.  His parents¡¯ fantasy books had contained such places in their pages.  Would there be muscled, well-armed adventurers, ready for battle?  Would there be bulletins for saviors needed to prevent some world-ending calamities?  More chilling was the idea of posters with sketches of demon foxes, wanted dead or alive for the deaths of countless adventurers.

    Instead, there was a dusty lobby, with dirty windows letting in barely enough light to see the grime.  The walls did have various posters, some newer, some ancient, with descriptions of quests and monsters.  Near the back of the room was a desk and some haphazardly filled shelves, with a rather unhappy looking old man ¨C or perhaps some kind of scrawny, wrinkled troll? ¨C looking at them over his spectacles.  He wore a dingy old white shirt with a brown vest.  His desk had stacks of papers and scrolls collecting dust, with frayed quills and stained inkpots scattered about.

    The man/troll unenthusiastically looked Althea up and down, while she stared him back down.  Phineas did not know what to make of this, his shoulders tense and ears down.  Eventually, the man broke the silence dryly.

    ¡°Can I¡­ assist you?¡±  The battle of condescension had begun.

    Althea sighed and rolled her eyes, preparing for the bureaucratic battle.  ¡°Yes.  I have a new apprentice to recommend for the Guild.¡±

    The old man slowly scanned the room, returning to Althea sardonically.  ¡°Where, in your purse?¡±

    Althea turned to Phineas and gave him a discreet wink.  ¡°Time to shine, fuzzball.  Do your thing.¡±

    Phineas hopped down, then strode up to the desk on his hind legs, trying to muster up whatever his thing was.  Looking back at Althea, he did his best to give a reassuring wink back.

    Phineas stood up as tall as he could, struggling to see over the edge of the desk.  ¡°Good morning, kind sir.  I wish to join the *ugk* Adventurer¡¯s *cough* Guild.¡±  The words made him choke.  Adventurer?  What am I doing?  His soul-searching was cut short by the bureaucrat¡¯s loud sigh as he pulled out a form.

    ¡°Name?¡±  The bureaucrat seemed thoroughly unimpressed and unconcerned about the talking fox in front of his desk.

    ¡°Phineas Loxias VII.¡±

    ¡°Aliases?¡±

    ¡°Um,¡± he looked at Althea for guidance.  She nodded, encouraging him.  ¡°Foxey Loxey.¡±

    This got a scoff and some grumbling from the clerk.

    ¡°Age?¡±

    This question got Phineas nervous.  ¡°Um, I¡¯m not really sure?¡±

    The bureaucrat gave a little harrumph.  ¡°What year were you born, created, and/or summoned?¡±

    Phineas furrowed his brow, trying to remember what his mother had taught him about the calendar.  He then brightened up with a smile.  ¡°Oh, I know!  867 ?¦Ê.¡±

    Althea and the bureaucrat turned towards each other, both confused at this, then turned back to Phineas.

    ¡°Eh cah?¡±

    ¡°?¦Ó¦Ï? ¦Ê¦Á¦Ó¦Á¦Ò¦Ó¦Ñ¦Ï¦Õ??.¡±  Phineas felt triumphant as he remembered the pronunciation his mother had taught him.  Once he looked back and forth between the two others in the room, though, there was no recognition of the term. Eyebrows lifted; he tried again.  ¡°Year of Disaster?¡±

    The bureaucrat shrugged, then scribbled something on his form and moved on.

    ¡°Species?¡±

    Phineas was confused by the question, looking down at himself, then back at the clerk.  ¡°Fox?¡±

    Disapprovingly, the bureaucrat shut Phineas down.  ¡°Foxes don¡¯t talk.  Therefore, you are not a fox.  Species?¡±

    ¡°How about Voxa?¡±

    This got another grumble out of the bureaucrat.  He rose from his chair to consult the large bookshelf behind his desk.  He returned with an old tome and proceeded to skim through the pages.  After some awkwardly silent minutes, the man found what he was looking for.  He held the book up to the duo and pointed to a list of allowed species.  The term ¡®Voxa¡¯ was on the list, but it had a footnote.  Phineas¡¯ ears and tail drooped as he slowly read the footnote aloud.

    ¡°Removed from species list due to extinction.¡±

    Ignoring the fox¡¯s distress, the bureaucrat marked a box on his form and continued. ¡°That answers the literacy question.  Now, species?¡±

    Althea decided to interject after seeing how Phineas had just melted at the footnote.  She leaned down to peer at the book, squinting at the small lettering of the pages.  Tapping on an item on the list, she nodded to the surly bureaucrat.

    <hr>

    Phineas was curled up on the lobby¡¯s bench, reading his new book while Althea considered the various posters on the wall.  Her tail swished back and forth, swatting away the dust in the air.  She stepped slowly from one group of posters to another, concerned she may have a hoof go through the old rotten floorboards.  There was a posting for an upcoming caravan mission leaving the next day.  It didn¡¯t pay well, but it was enough.  The grumpy bureaucrat was somewhere in the back, mulling over Phineas¡¯ application.

    She came to a section on the wall entitled ¡®Missing Adventurers¡¯.  Rough sketches accompanied the various descriptions of wayward parties and solo adventurers.  Many had a commonality ¨C ¡®Last known mission at ruined wizards¡¯ keep in the Western Reaches.¡¯  This wasn¡¯t a surprise, but seeing the posters brought a new reality to what she already knew.  She looked down to study her new compatriot, trying to figure out what was going on in his fuzzy little mind.  He was happily reading his pulp fantasy novel, oblivious to the world, cozily wrapped in his own tail.

    The clerk returned with a new leather booklet in his ink-stained hands, frowning with the dread of another member to deal with.  With a sigh of discontent, he called out.  ¡°Phineas Loxias?¡±

    Phineas, startled, looked up and around.  ¡°Huh?¡±

    The clerk handed Phineas the leather booklet.  He spoke down to the fox, giving a practiced old line.  ¡°Welcome to the Adventurer¡¯s Guild, apprentice.  May your quests be just and profitable.¡±  The man slowly moseyed back to his desk, relieved to be done with the pair.

    Phineas looked at the leather booklet, scrutinizing its crude stitching in disbelief.  The crest of the Guild was embossed in the leather of the cover.  He opened it slowly, dreading what was inside.  A freshly varnished piece of paper in the front with his name and other information, written in a practiced but shaky hand.  Under his name was the word ¡°APPRENTICE¡± in large print.  The paper listed his fur and eye color, the initials ¡°A.I.¡± for age (he¡¯d have to ask what that meant), approximate weight, and species.  What seemed somehow more surreal to him, other than literally now being an official adventurer, was what he read last.  His noble Voxa heritage ¨C the supposed (distant) descendant of a mighty nine-tailed kitsune - had been boiled down to a species listing of ¡°Magical Creature ¨C OTHER¡±.

    ¡°See, just like mine.¡±  Phineas looked up to see Althea leaning down to look at his new guild papers.  She opened her little marked booklet to show him hers.  The pages were tattered with multiple stamps and entries, but her lead page was fancier, stating ¡°JOURNEYMAN¡± instead.  Just a quick glance showed two items of interest ¨C her age also listed the same odd ¡°A.I.¡± abbreviation, and her species was listed as ¡°Centaur ¨C VARIANT¡±.

    ¡°Off to the next stop ¨C to get our job.¡±  Althea headed out the door with haste while Phineas was still contemplating his booklet.  Looking up again, he realized she was already gone.  Phineas hurried out the door after her, with no time to dwell on his new status.

    <hr>

    With the unusual duo gone, the tired old clerk arose again for yet another burdensome task.  Muttering to himself, he pulled out the processing manual again, this time going to the clerical actions section.  The listing for ¡°Voxa¡± had reference to other directions for the guild clerk to perform, adding more toil to his day.

    ¡°Process applicant as normal.  Make immediate report to regional Guild headquarters for sightings of any Voxa or other similar talking animals.¡±