Book 1: Gospel: Never To Return

Book 1: Gospel

Chapter 13: Never To Return

Book of Roots, Ember Canticle, Leaf 29:1

“The fox knows no law but hunger. The mate knows no duty but to the den. Let the wild become your sanctuary—for only the hunted know how to live.”

I do not recall how far we ran that first day, but by the time we had stopped the peaks of the Cinderclaw Mountains had begun to rear their heads above the horizon. The soil had turned into something of a red clay and sand mix with spikey grass and hardy ironwood trees that bore spines as hard and long as spear tips on their branches.

I sniffed around and found a sandy hollow beneath one of them. It wasn’t a hole but more like a deep bowl in between the roots. I looked up into the sky and saw nothing but clear blue skies. Rain became uncommon this far south in the Steelwilds, further south in the Sand Seas, it became as rare as dragon pearls.

I turned and let out a bark of encouragement to my wife. She peeked her head up over a low thicket of spike grass. She walked over slowly not out of caution, but exhaustion. Her fur being black and silver in color was not made for the growing heat this far south. I fared a little better being gold and orange in color.

Itza favored a back paw and walked with a limp as she flopped into the center of the bowl panting hard. Her three tails splayed out wide as she tried to cool off.

It was near sundown. I looked back north to the way we had come. Undoubtedly, there would be riders and hounds after us. I looked around her neck to were her rosary was stored in a fox pouch the Kitsune used to carry their valuables while shifted. The Church would be coming for the bead and possibly my child. The Cathedral in Thornmarch saw this as a power play to replace the Cathedral in Hollow Port as the primary center of worship for the Steelwilds. A relic as powerful as a Godspark and a child born from that union would put them on tier with the Flame-Tail Grove and Glimmerbrook back in the Grovelands. We were too valuable to let slip through their fingers.

I found myself wondering about my Uncle Tenshi. The last I saw of him, he had rushed back into the inn and had his hands around Aggie’s neck. I bristled at her memory. The spirit of or rather, Fernweh had been right. Not all monoliths are made of stone, some are institutions.

I walked down to my mate and nuzzled her. She whimpered and licked my neck then flopped back down onto the sand. I walked out of the bowl leaving her curled up and resting.

My stomach growled. When had my last meal been? Supper last night? If I was hungry, Itza must be starving having to grow new life. I put my nose to the ground and sniffed for any scent that was familiar that smelled like food.

My tails bristled, the scent of prey causing my pupils to dilate , my ears to cock forward, and a growl to bubble from my throat. I took off at a trot. The scent wasn’t much older than a few steps old. It likely passed by the bowl just before we trotted up.

The clay sand rolled and scrubbed the pads of my paws. Spike grass tried to scratch and pierce my coat but it slicked past me. Beggar lice and tag-a-longs managed to cling to me however. They only proved the be a problem if they got in between the pads of my toes. I took care watching my step for sticker weed and barb plant that grew low to the ground. From above I imagined myself as a flowing flame, weaving and ducking through the undergrowth.

The scent snapped my daydreaming back into reality. I could feel my mortality slip a little more. The scent grew stronger more poignant, more urgent. My stomach grumbled. It was close now.

A quiet sound from ahead caused me to freeze with a paw in midstep. My blue eyes snapped forward to the outline hopping and foraging in the grass ahead of me. My mouth watered. My hair bristled on the nape of my neck.

“Quiet,” I told myself “ Wait til the head is down….. good…. Creep forward two steps…. Pause its head’s up….. go back down! Go back down!…. Good back down three steps.”

I crept forward again this time I didn’t stop. I could see the horns glistening whenever its sail like ears moved out of the way. Its back was to me.

My legs coiled like four springs. I lept, felt soft fur and bone give then break as ribs gave way beneath my weight. A squeal pierced the grasslands stifled to a gurgle and shaking stalks of grass as my saws clamped around the antemorph’s neck, teeth sawing until the blood spurted in my mouth.

My eyes grew dark as I laid on top of my kill stiffing the thrashing and the drowning screams.
“Shhhh,shhhh,” I thought ,” Die now. Just die. Let it go. Don’t bring anything bigger around.”

It continued its thrashing.

“ Enough,” I lowered my weight onto my rear haunches, tightened my grip, and in a swift motion extending my forelegs.

A quiet “ Snick” as the spinal cord and the skull separated. Small tremors and its feet kicked one last time.

Stillness.

The antemorph was almost three quarters of my body weight. It would do for me and Izzy at least until she recovered her strength. As I started to drag the food back, my mind wandered again but not the paths the two legs walked, not the paths of the tall-tails. These were trials wandered my nimble and delicate paws, quick and shifty eyes, and colorful and quiet tails.

My mother had mentioned that when those of the Kitsune shifted, if we stayed inside the fourth form for too long, we would begin to see things, feel things, become things that the Creator had elevated us above. She had said that we could see the “First Way”, the original way the Creator made us, and we could become lost in the beautiful simplicity of the Four Laws: Live, Eat, Breed, Die.

My eyes shifted to the side. I could see ephemeral and ethereal another male fox. I growled and bristled dropping my kill. I turned and snarled and snapped at it. It did not regard me at all as it carried a ghostly rodent in its jaws. I paused, my head cocked in confusion. I lept at its jaws in an attempt to take its kill for my own as well. I hit the sand soil, a yelp escaping my lips as a sticker pierced the tender spot between my toes. Still, he did not regard me.

I chuffed and turned letting him pass from my mind. I picked up my prey and began to limp it back to the bowl beneath the ironwood tree. My mate was with kit. I needed to feed her.

I paused and tried to dig the sticker out of my paw with my teeth. It didn’t work.
“ Mate needs food,” I heard a voice in my head whisper.

I picked up the antemorph, and began to carry it again. As I neared the bowl, I let the prey slide down the shallow bowl. I sat the edge and tried again to dig the sticker out. No luck, it would have to fester and work out, maybe it wouldn’t hamper my hunting too badly.

I looked over the edge of the bowl and froze. The other male was there! With my mate, I growled and bristled all the way down my two tails. My legs coiled and claws flexed.
“ Wait,” whispered the voice,” Not your female! His female. Watch! Not you, happened already. In your blood.”

I settled down on all fours and peeked my head over the rim. The male pranced up to the female laying nursing nine kits. A huge litter even for a wild fox. The male proudly placed the kill before her, and she jumped up ignoring the protesting squeals and grunts of her litter.

Teeth slashed and ripped through muscle as she gulped it down. The male went to take a bite, but she snapped and bit at him. He skipped back and sat waiting. If there was any left, then he would eat. If not, well, he could always hunt again.

I flinched and ducked down low as I could. A rush of wind and a roar seemed to split the sky above me. I looked up and bodies as large as the mountains soared and fought above me. Gouts of flame, lightening, ice, fog, and acid laced the heavens and fell to the ground. One of the beasts fell and landed far away blood streaming from its throat as its body impacted sending a shock wave of dirt, dust and debris flying towards me. I dove into the bowl and hunkered in the side.

I looked and saw the mother and father fox wrapped around their kits. All of them trembled and shook, as the war raged above them. As the dust flew over and darkened the sky, my eyes slowly adjusted.

Then, brightness. A blinding, coppery golden light. A figure. A two legs knelt down and placed a hand on the female. He said words, but I couldn’t understand them. Suddenly, she and the male and the kits began to glow. Their tails split into nine each.

The figure stood and the mother nodded her head and left the den. The male sat beside his litter and listened to the Golden One. His head inclined towards the wriggling little ones. The Golden One smiled and passed his hand over them. Suddenly, they grew to the size of their parents. Each sporting a set of nine tails.
They all passed out of the den leaving me alone with the Golden Two-legs.

He turned, regarded me and reached down to skritch me under the chin.

I blinked. It wasn’t the Golden One. It was Izzy. She had eaten her fill and now nuzzled me out of my stupor. She placed the carcass at my feet.

My stomach growled, and I dove onto it. Filled with meat and blood, I drug the bones and gristle out of the den. I drug it as far as my wounded paw would allow me to. I then limped back to my mate, my wife, my Itza and laid around her, my tails shielding her. My eyes grew heavy as she licked my muzzle clean.

My mortal mind rose to the surface as the fox began to sleep, “ Why couldn’t the entire world be as simple as this?”

Book of Saint Fernweh, Flamebound Codex, Canon XII:4

“Those who flee their post shall be hunted. The body, the child, the spark—they all return to the Circle in the end.”