Chapter Two... The fox named Edwards

The mop swayed in slow, methodical strokes, the damp wood beneath it gleaming in the dim light. Ydoc worked in silence, his bare feet cold against the floor, his body moving without thought. The mess was already cleaned—the evidence of whatever had happened before erased.

Whatever had happened.

His mind wouldn’t grasp it. The harder he tried to recall why his knees had been on this floor, why his hands had trembled, the more the memory slipped like water through his fingers. It left behind only a dull ache in his skull and a hollow feeling in his chest.

But no matter. The floor was clean now.

Then the front door swung open.

A gust of cool, ink-scented air swept into the cabin, and with it, the only other living person Ydoc knew.

Edwards.

Tall and lean, with a foxlike grace, the kitsune stepped inside, shaking loose drops of ink-rain from his cloak. His golden fur caught the dim light, a stark contrast to the gray and muted world around them. His sharp, playful eyes locked onto Ydoc’s.

“Oh, for the love of—Edwards!” Ydoc’s voice rang through the cabin, exasperation laced with mock outrage. “You absolute menace!”

Edwards barely had time to process before Ydoc jabbed the mop in his direction. “You’re tracking mud all over the floor! The floor I just mopped, mind you!”

The kitsune paused mid-step, glancing down at his feet. Indeed, a trail of wet, darkened footprints marred the freshly cleaned wood.

Edwards grinned, all sharp teeth and mischief. “Ah. So I am.”

Ydoc threw his hands up. “And here I was, thinking you were a gentleman! But no, no, you’re just some uncivilized forest beast with no respect for my labor.”

With a laugh, Edwards kicked off his shoes, sending one bouncing haphazardly across the room. He stepped further in, unburdened by guilt. “Forgive me, my dearest Ydoc. How could I have been so cruel? So heartless?” He pressed a hand to his chest, the very picture of mock remorse.

“You could start by actually wiping your feet outside for once in your life,” Ydoc muttered, wringing out the mop with an exaggerated sigh.

Instead of listening, Edwards waltzed past him, dropping something onto the counter with a soft thunk. A small ceramic pot, housing yet another vibrant flower—its petals a shocking shade of yellow against the gray backdrop of the cabin.

Ydoc narrowed his eyes. “Another one?”

Edwards beamed. “Of course. The house needed more color.”

Ydoc scoffed, shaking his head as he leaned the mop against the wall. “At this rate, the flowers are going to outnumber us.”

“And wouldn’t that be lovely?” Edwards mused, stepping further inside as if he hadn’t just ruined Ydoc’s hard work. “A home overflowing with life.”

Ydoc turned back to the flower, staring at its bright petals, its stubborn defiance against the drabness of the world.

A home overflowing with life.

His fingers brushed against the rim of the pot, his smile faltering just for a second.

Life, huh?

He supposed that was one way to put it.
----

Ydoc crouched down, sighing dramatically as he wiped away the trail of mud Edwards had so graciously tracked in. At this point, it was less about the mess and more about principle. The man had no shame.

“You know,” Ydoc mused, his tone light as he wrung out the rag, “I’m starting to think you do this on purpose. Ruin my hard work just so I have something to complain about.”

Edwards, now lounging against the counter, tilted his head, his many fox tails swaying lazily behind him. “Ah, so you’ve caught on,” he said with a grin. “A man must entertain his dearest friend, after all.”

Ydoc scoffed but didn’t bother arguing. Instead, he tossed the rag into the bucket and leaned against his mop. “So? Where were you this time?”

Edwards twirled a stray lock of hair between his fingers, smirking like he held some grand secret. “Deep Lilac,” he answered smoothly.

Ydoc frowned. That town again.

He had never stepped foot outside The Divide, never seen Deep Lilac with his own eyes. He only knew of it through Edwards’ stories—always spoken of with an amused fondness, always painted in bright colors, music, laughter. But Ydoc had also been taught, in ways both subtle and not, that the mortal town was not for him. That the people beyond the forest’s reach could not be trusted.

And who had taught him that?

Edwards, of course.

“Must be nice,” Ydoc muttered, pushing his mop along the last of the floorboards. “Running around the mortal world without a care.”

Edwards hummed, neither confirming nor denying. Instead, he reached into his coat and pulled out a folded piece of paper. “Picked up a little something while I was there.”

He tossed it onto the table, where it landed with a soft flutter. Ydoc, curious despite himself, set his mop aside and grabbed the flyer.

The ink was a little smudged from the rain, but the message was clear:

Festival of the Stars
Come one, come all! Under the light of the twin moons, let us celebrate the harmony between worlds. Music, dance, and joy to honor the forest and sky!

Ydoc traced a finger over the words, something tightening in his chest.

“A festival?”

Edwards nodded, watching him closely. “Happens every year. A rare thing, really. There aren’t many mortals left who still wish to celebrate the old ways, but those who do… well.” He smiled, a hint softer this time. “They gather. They play music for the stars and for the trees, to remind us that not all mortals are monsters.”

Not all.

Ydoc’s fingers curled around the edges of the paper. “Huh.”

Edwards didn’t press further—not yet. Instead, he straightened, stretching his arms over his head before clapping his hands together. “But! Before we get too lost in philosophy, let’s address the more immediate concern—dinner. What are we eating, oh gracious keeper of my humble home?”

Ydoc blinked, shaken from his thoughts. “Oh. Right. Pasta.”

Edwards gasped as if this was the greatest news he’d ever received. “Pasta! Glorious, beautiful pasta! I do hope you’ve made enough for a poor, weary traveler such as myself.”

Ydoc rolled his eyes, already moving toward the stove. “I should’ve let you starve.”

Edwards merely grinned, hopping onto the counter, his tails swishing in delight.
-----

The pasta boiled lazily on the stove, the steam curling into the air, filling the cabin with the warm, familiar scent of herbs and butter. Ydoc stirred it absently, his eyes half-lidded, still lingering on the festival flyer sitting on the table.

Behind him, Edwards was perched atop the kitchen counter, lounging in his usual way—like a cat who had claimed the entire space as his own. He stretched, the fabric of his flowing fleece shirt shifting with the movement, the loose fabric billowing just enough to remind Ydoc that Edwards lived as if he had stepped straight out of the pages of a romance novel.

It wasn’t just the way he dressed—though the snug, tight pants and low-cut shirt certainly played a part—it was how he carried himself. Everything about him had a deliberate charm, a controlled sort of chaos, like a rogue winking from the shadows of a candlelit tavern.

His fur, a rich yellow-brown, practically shimmered under the dim lighting of the kitchen. His chest, lined with softer, paler fur, made for an almost unfair contrast—like the kind of man who always looked effortlessly put together. His tails swayed idly behind him, flicking with amusement as he watched Ydoc cook.

“You’re very quiet today, my dear Ydoc,” Edwards mused, one of his sharp claws tapping rhythmically against the counter. “Lost in thought? Dreaming of a fair maiden? A handsome prince, perhaps?”

Ydoc snorted. “Please.”

Edwards gasped dramatically, clutching at his chest. “You wound me! Are you telling me you do not sit here, all alone in your grand wooden fortress, pining for romance?”

Ydoc gave him a dry look as he drained the pasta. “Oh yes. Every night, I stare at the ceiling, longing for my one true love to come rescue me from my miserable existence.”

Edwards grinned. “There it is. That sharp tongue of yours. I was afraid I had lost it.”

Ydoc huffed, shaking his head as he plated the food. “And what about you? What romantic escapades did you have in Deep Lilac, hm?” He set one plate down in front of Edwards, expecting him to take a proper seat at the table.

Instead, Edwards slid down from the counter and, rather than sitting across from Ydoc like any normal person, took the seat right beside him. Close. Too close.

Ydoc stiffened as Edwards leaned in, elbow resting on the table, his grin turning positively devious.

“Oh, you would love to know, wouldn’t you?” Edwards purred.

“No,” Ydoc deadpanned, twirling his fork into the pasta.

“Well, too bad. Because I love to tell.”

Ydoc sighed but didn’t stop him. He knew by now that stopping Edwards from talking was about as effective as stopping the rain from falling.

“Ah, Deep Lilac,” Edwards began, waving his fork like a storyteller before a grand audience. “A town filled with color, music, and beautiful people. And such beautiful people they were. There was this lovely human woman at the café—her hair was like spun gold, and her laugh? Like the ringing of the sweetest bells. If I were any lesser man, I would have been hopelessly enchanted.”

Ydoc took a bite of his food, unimpressed.

“But!” Edwards continued, ever theatrical. “She was not the only soul who caught my eye. There was also a young bard—a man with the most delightful voice I have ever heard. The kind of voice that makes you want to sit by the fire and listen until the sun rises.”

“You’re very easy to impress,” Ydoc muttered between bites.

Edwards gasped, setting his fork down as if Ydoc had just insulted his entire lineage. “I’ll have you know I have impeccable taste!”

Ydoc only hummed in response, letting Edwards prattle on.

And he did.

For the next twenty minutes, Edwards spoke with the ease of someone who lived to talk, spinning tales of flirtations and poetic exchanges, of chance encounters and dramatic goodbyes.

Ydoc listened. Not because he cared about the romance of it all—he didn’t—but because this was Edwards.

And despite everything, despite the confusion, despite the secrets that hung in the air like an unspoken storm—Edwards was his person.

The only person he had.

And that was enough.