The Raven and the Fox
There was a dash of deep orange, almost red, which exited a burrow tucked beneath the roots of a tall ash tree. Dark front legs pawed against the grass. The fox was anxious. Her nose twitched as she dipped her head towards the ground. Though the fox didn’t have the intelligence to understand what it was sensing, she knew something was off. What she didn’t—couldn’t realize was that she was detecting the presence of magic. She only knew that that scent signified the unknown and dangerous.
In any case, there was something important that was occupying her mind: her pup was missing. Two dawns prior, when the men came with their flashing lights, the fox hid. Her pup hadn’t. The fox hadn’t risked searching for it while the lights were still flashing. It wouldn’t have been worth it; she could have other pups. In a world where men could come and alter everything, twist even the winds to their will, sentimentality was not rewarded.
But, the men had mostly gone, and the lights only lingered in the faint whispers that passed for her dreams. She knew that it was time for her to search for her pup- her child. The bright autumn sun hung in the sky, unmarred. All was as well as it would be for some time. It was now time for the fox to begin her search. Maybe she would find her pup out there.
And so, the fox exited her burrow and felt warm sunlight caress her back. Her paws padded against the ground, squishing down into earth that was still wet from recent rains. Her nose dipped down to the dirt, attempting to catch the scent of her pup. Although, she knew that it would be mostly useless. The trail had gone cold, and the rain had washed away most of her pup’s scent. Any smell that remained would be overpowered by that of the other forest creatures and by the all-consuming scent of magic.
Despite this, the fox caught the barest whiff of something. She had cared for her pup for well over half a year, feeding him and caring for him and watching its little red tail bob up and down, and by now could recognize the scent. It was faint, but hope need not be abundant to be powerful. She darted across the landscape. The fox was swift but still cautious. The colorful lights may have dissipated, but they had left deep invisible scars. Dangers still lurked.
Hence, she chirruped softly, hoping that somehow her pup would hear her before anything malevolent did. The fox did her best to be unknown. As such, the only response was the caw of a raven nestled in the trees. She paid it no heed. There were more important things about which to worry.
She focused on her pup’s scent, which had just then vanished. Or, more accurately, it was overwhelmed by that sickly arcane scent. It was strong and seemed to ooze through her nostrils, smothering her. But, her pup’s trail, however faint, seemed to point directly through the area. The fox’s little heart beat fast. She knew what the scent signified: danger. She paused, weighing her options. Danger awaited her, and she would have other pups. The fox, tentatively, followed her pup’s trail forward.
Almost immediately, something was wrong. Despite the warmth of the great sun, the air turned frigid. Icy mists emerged, seemingly from nothing. The fox yelped, far higher and shriller than she usually would if she had had her wits about her. Every single one of her hairs stood on end. It was cold, so cold, the grass that she was walking on had withered and died. And her feet, which once sank into soft soil, were trapped inside frozen earth. The icy mists bit at her, raking against her sides. Her head swung wildly, trying to find something to bite. But there was nothing.
The fox was in a state of panic and was therefore rendered ineffective. Indeed, it was only through outside aid that she was freed. Despite her sharp ears, she was deaf to the shrill call of the raven, which dove down to meet her. It peaked at the frozen earth which had ensnared its feet, doing its best to deftly maneuver around the fox’s thrashing limbs. It was more or less successful; the fox was growing sluggish. In any case, the fox was soon free. She shuddered and fell. The raven did its best to prod her forward. The raven was quite persistent, seemingly unaffected by the cold.
Eventually, the fox stood on shaky legs. She shuddered forward, too tired and weak to pay much heed to the raven, only going through the motions snapping at the bird. Luckily, it only took a few steps for the fox to exit the area that had been scared by the men and their lights. The cold dissipated, and the fox could once again feel the sun kiss her cheek. She was ready to continue on her errand, ready to find her lost pup. But the sun was gentle and warm after the fox had just been so cold. As much as she tried to struggle onwards, she fell, quite literally, to sleep. The last thing she saw was the raven looking at her through one of its cobalt blue eyes.
The fox’s eyes opened slowly. She was comfortable with sleep still having a hold over her mind until she realized where she was and suddenly awoke all at once. Her pup! She needed to find her pup. Her very being ached for it. But, the vulnerability brought on by mournings light soon faded, and she hardened her heart and tempered her expectations. The forest didn’t reward sentimentality after all. This wouldn’t be the first pup she had lost. But she still had to search.
It took her a second before she gathered her bearings enough to start her quest anew. The fox then pressed her nose to the earth, hoping that she might once again detect her pup’s scent. She wrinkled her nose. The rank stench of magic was all around her, overpowering any other smell. The fox turned her head, looking for the source. The raven stared back at her; it was almost preening itself in satisfaction.
The fox swatted at the bird, hoping to be rid of it so that she continued on her way. She missed, the raven maneuvering out of her reach. It hopped back, eyeing her carefully, before fluttering onto the branches of a dogwood, its black feathers standing out against the pastel white flowers. It let out a low gurgling croak, almost as if it was trying to communicate to the fox. The fox was distrustful of the raven; it had the same stench as the colored lights, and the cold, and the men that were there when she lost her pup. She knew not what the bird’s connection to those things was but, it couldn’t be anything good.
The raven called again as if trying to remind the fox that it was there, pleading for her to follow. The fox turned her head towards the raven, eyeing it warily. She knew what the raven was promising. The raven, noticing that it had gotten the fox’s attention, flew to another tree in the fox’s sight, this time an ash tree. It was just like the one that stood over her burrow. She could see a phantasm of her pup jumping and diving under the roots. The fox turned her head away. She carried on.
Determined, the fox turned that way and sniffed the ground. But she smelled nothing. It had been a few days since her pup had disappeared, and their scent had already been faint before the fox took her nap. As much as the fox tried, she couldn’t be sure she had the scent of her pup. The fox didn’t know where her little pup was and haunting visions eagerly rushed to fill the unknown with worry. She could hear her pup breathing quick breaths, its little heart beating fast. It screamed in short bursts, always laden for fear. It called out to someone that wasn’t there.
The raven cawed again. It hopped up and down, almost eager as if it was ushering the fox forward. The fox turned away. In a forest steeped in strange magic, trust wasn’t a virtue that was rewarded. Anything out of the ordinary was to be feared and rejected; vulnerability was only to be taken advantage of. Still, the fox was slightly regretful as she turned; it pained her to reject any possible lead. But, she would have other pups; there wasn’t a use for sentimentality.
Spurning the raven left the fox directionless. She couldn’t find any scent, any secret sign. The only direction for her to go was onward. She would need to have hope. Such a thing was in short supply. And so the fox trotted. She was slower than previously; her vigilance only increased by the prior incident. Paw stepped in front of padded paw. And she traversed the landscape. The fox made her wad through the forest, bright with fiery autumn colors. She splashed down streams and made her way up hills. The raven followed.
Wherever the fox walked, the raven was there as a small malevolent shadow. The raven was swift and silent, a presence that the fox could always barely see out of the corner of its eye. It was a burden that grew on her mind. The fox could do nothing, and the raven did nothing.
Neither fox nor raven interacted with each other. The fox pointedly ignored the raven, and the raven merely watched. The sun rose and approached its noon-time apogee. It was time for the fox to sleep.
It would be a restless one: partially because of the raven’s vigilance, partially because she was reluctant to waste any more time. Nonetheless, the fox chose a particularly shady tree under which to rest. With any luck, she would awake at dawn and find her pup. But her dreams only contained haunting specters of red bodies streaked with blood. And so, she slept and told herself that she would have other pups.
The fox awoke to footsteps; the fox awoke to caws. Unlike her previous waking, she came too all at once. Every hair bristled, and her teeth gleamed. She was ready to bite and snap at the raven. But, the raven was silent and was fluttering its wings softly and gesturing as well as it could to the west. The fox’s eyes, well adapted to the current twilight, could see the visages of a single strange man striding in their direction. She was instantly wary. The raven, too, seemed nervous; it landed lightly on the ground and began to hop from side to side, restless.
The fox first began sniffing with her beetle-black nose, trying to detect more of the stench of magic. Those men that she had seen previously, the ones that caused her to lose her pup, had wreaked havoc on the surrounding area. To the fox’s deep dismay, the strong scent of magic wafted over to her. It was stronger even than the raven’s pungent smell. This new redolent smell was acrid, and it seemed to reach out towards the fox, enveloping her. She froze.
The figure, though far off, filled the fox with dread and dismay. Though it still didn’t look as if it was looking at the fox specifically, it was still coming closer. The figure stooped and pressed its hands down into soft earth, letting the dirt crumble through its fingers. The figure turned in the fox’s direction.
There was the raven, right beside her, its feathers all quivering. As if it was speaking to the fox, the raven began to caw again, with its head bowed low. The sound was soft but still frantic- almost urgent. So, the fox turned her head. The raven breathed quick breaths, its little heart beating fast. All the while it screamed, each short burst laden with fear. It called out, and the fox was the only one to hear.
The fox chirped soft chirps, this time doing her best to comfort the raven, which began to flutter its wings. It picked up its head just a little, and one of its jewel-blue eyes met the foxes. The raven cawed softly and fluttered to the branch of a tall maple tree. It looked warily at the figure, and the fox felt a waxing sense of urgency. So it quickly approached the tree. When she reached the maple, the raven fluttered off to another tree.
The entire process continued for quite some time, the fox reaching the raven’s tree, the raven fluttering away, leading the fox. This time, the fox was more trusting. She did not know why, but she began to entertain the barest flicker of the idea that her pup was still alive. The raven gave her hope. Of course, the fox was still tentative in her actions. The forest, and especially the wild magic did not foster kindness. Wariness was prudence, and even then, it was still against her better judgment to follow the raven. Her sentimentality was getting the better of her.
Hours passed. The fox slowly grew more at ease. She smiled, slightly, at the way the raven flew. It bobbed on the wind, fluttering playfully in all directions. There was solace in the air. Every flap brought in a little joy.
It was during one such joyful flutter, the raven riding the winds until it seemed to brush the edge of the sky when the bird let out a shriek. It then dove and perched next to the fox, gesturing towards the left with both wings. Great stone marvels lumbered on in that direction. The creatures were towering figures, formed of rough-hewn stone. And they stank of magic almost as much as the raven.
Yet, the fox didn’t show any signs of fear. For, she had seen such things before. These things were formed from slightly older magic. They hadn’t been made by the same people that scarred the earth, the ones that caused the fox to lose her pup.
No, the fox had often watched these creatures rumble slowly through streams, birds alighting upon them. These were calm and steady—gentle giants. Now, she sat on her hindquarters. The raven sat with her. They watched the stone titans until they vanished into the surrounding forest. The fox shook herself, no time for sentimentality; she was searching for her pup.
The raven was excited. The sky was once again nearing twilight, and the raven was crowing. A feeling of triumph permeated the air as both the raven and the fox rushed on. Ahead, she could see a stream that was lined with rocks, which cut a small canyon, standing out against the woods. The raven crowded louder, excited. She was nearing whatever the raven was leading her to. Maybe, hopefully, she would find her- a figure appeared next to her. The fox halted, but the raven seemed not to notice the person. It was the same person that reeked deeply of magic, the same person that had so scared the raven earlier.
“There you are, Fabio.”
The raven stopped flapping and began to fall from the sky. Its eyes widened, and it let out a guttural caw. Its claws scrambled, and its wings flailed wildly, and it did its best to flap away from the person.
“Shh, ” the man crooned, in a barely audible voice. “I’ve been looking for you. I thought I’d lost you when I couldn’t find you after the battle, but now you’re back. Oh, how I’ve missed you.”
The fox let out a low whine, and the man’s gaze panned around, glancing at the fox before once again settling on the raven. She couldn’t see any eyes, just haunting opaque circles, rimmed in white, that seemed to glare down at her. The man raised a staff of knotted wood and gestured towards the raven- who was now screaming. It flew around the man and attempted to perch at it, but the raven’s efforts were for naught. A beam of eldritch light formed from within the staff, and shot forwards towards the raven, encircling it.
Suddenly, and all at once, the raven dissipated, curling into wreaths of pale wispy smoke. The fox flinched. That hideous acrid scent of magic was now all-consuming, far stronger than it had been while the raven was whole. But, overwhelming even the scent was the fox’s horror. The raven was gone. It wouldn’t be able to help her find her pup. She would never again hear his caw. Her friend was gone.
The man left, but the fox stayed whining and pawing at the ground, mourning. Her tail drooped, laying listlessly against the earth. She should have known better than to grow attached. But, before she could harden her heart, a dash of orange, almost red, peaked up from behind the rocks.
Slowly, cautiously the fox approached her pup, sniffing him and nuzzling him with her beetle-lack nose. She didn’t know how to feel. Like the raven, he might not make it. Her pup began to frolic, jumping and chasing his tail. He was jumping and diving around and between rocks. The fox, for a time, smiled. She began to lead him home.
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