The Girl and The Fox

“HEY!” I YELLED after them, but they only laughed as they darted between people with my precious bunny.

I pick up my feet to race after them, pushing through the crowd and hoping they don’t get away before I can find them.

I tried to follow their laughter, and they had taken a turn down an alley to the backstreets. A little out of breath, but determined, I followed them.

“Give it back!” I call after them. One of the boys glanced behind him. He must have been annoyed that I was still pursuing them.

We all end up in a part of the city where there’s nothing but empty houses and dim lights, a little ways away from the town square. The decorations were still up, flags and ribbons and bouquets decorating the streets. Some people are stumbling home, and others are taking their carts full of goods to the square, but it’s mostly much calmer.

“That’s…mine!” I huff, my feet tired from running.

“Get lost, little girl,” One of the boys taunts me, raising it high above his head. “It’s ours now.”

They throw it in a basket filled with other goods, probably what they’ve stolen from vendors and other little kids like me.

“Please!” I beg them. I don’t have many toys. The things I do play with weren’t made for a child’s imagination in the first place. This is the first real thing that’s been given to me and was meant to be mine.

I was tired of things I cherished being taken away from me by selfish people.

They only stuck their tongue out at me and began to walk away. I didn’t have the energy–or the spirit–to pursue them.

“Stop.”

A voice said from behind me. The bullies seemed to have heard it too, because they turned around in confusion to see who the new challenger was.

It was another boy, seemingly older than me but significantly younger than them. He had a wooden fox mask over his eyes, with ribbons tying it over his head. The mask itself was a classic orange, with the snout and the ears filled in with a dark brown, and the snout fading into white. It had carved patterns in it, following the forehead down the animal’s snout, which had been painted gold.

I had seen something similar to it at one of the stands, so I assumed he must have bought it here at the festival.

He was holding a wooden sword, a prop he might have picked up from the festival at the square as well.

I blinked back tears in astonishment.

“What’s up with you, huh?” The boy’s friend said.

“Why don’t we take his stuff too?” The other suggests.

“I don’t want a dumb sword; it’s hard to carry around.”

“The mask is cool-“

“Shh!” The boy who stole my bunny scolds them. He rolls his eyes, crossing his arms and turning his attention back to the masked boy.

“What are you gonna do? Take it from us?” He asks with a smirk, waving the bunny in the air.

The boy with the fox mask only stands silently, raising the wooden sword up and pointing at them.

“Whoa, guys,” He says, raising his hand and backing up slowly, “I think we’ve got ourselves a knight here. We should be careful!”

The other boys only laugh, obviously mocking him.

In his fox mask, he brings his sword up in front of his own face, standing in a perfect, concentrated pose. Then, he transitions into what looks like some kind of fighting stance, holding the sword with both hands close to his head and his feet spread apart.

I watched him closely, unable to blink, wanting to see what happened next.

“What an idiot,” one of them mumbles. “Come on, I want the mask.”

They approach him, seemingly not intimidated at all. One circles behind him, probably to grab him from behind. But as the other reaches out to grab the mask off his face, the boy steps quickly in front of him, switching his position and knocking the blade into the boy’s stomach, sending him staggering backwards.

The bully coughs with bulging eyes, as the wind left his lungs so suddenly it caught him off-guard.

The one behind him didn’t even have time to react before he turned his attention to him. And just as swiftly, changes his stance again to sweep him off his feet.

The boy lands square on his back, and the masked child points his sword at him from above.

By then, the first bully had regained his senses and lunged at him, grabbing him by the shoulder to subdue him. He had even gotten his fingers around the mask, pulling at it and shifting it from his face.

When the mask came slightly loose, I saw that his cheek was faintly purple and blue.

The masked boy elbows him in the chest before spinning around to whack him clean in the side of his head with his sword in two swift motions. The boy cries out, staggering to his right before collapsing, probably with a throbbing headache.

The boy with my bunny stood from afar, his jaw slack and eyes wide.

“Whoa!” He breathes, unable to fathom how a kid younger than them can take two of his friends down.

“Here, take it!” He says, throwing the doll at me before running off.

“Wh-Hey!” His friend calls after him, clearly offended. The fox-masked boy lets them both help each other up before limping after their ringleader with their tails between their legs.

My mysterious hero doesn’t even take a second look at them. He walked over to my bunny, who was now slightly dirty from being on the ground. He picks her up and hands her to me.

“Here you go,” he states. I look up at the carved holes in his mask, and I am met with his darkened eyes, the shadow of his mask covering the true color of them. But a glimmer reflected in them from the lights that surrounded us.

At a loss for words, I took the bunny from him. The moment I did, he walked around me back towards the town square without another word.

“W-wait!” I cry out, standing up. “I didn’t get to say thank you!”

“You just did,” He replies, stopping only to say that before walking away again. I follow him anyway.

“How old are you?”

“…Eight.”

“How were you able to take down those older boys? They were a lot bigger than you.” I ask curiously, recounting the memory of how easily they fell onto their butts.

“I take sword-fighting lessons.” The fox boy replies simply.

“Wow, really? You must be rich then. Are you a noble?” I ask, observing him.

I don’t know why I hadn’t noticed before; his shiny black hair with a little ponytail in the back, the delicate golden embroidery on his coat with the laced frills at the end of his sleeve, and naturally soft hands uncommon for kids from the city his age didn’t ring a bell that he could be aristocratic.

He didn't immediately answer my question, so I assumed I was right.

This boy is so strange…! I thought to myself. For acting so chivalrous, he’s awfully reserved.

“What’s your name?”

The mysterious fox-masked boy is silent, only glancing at me momentarily before looking away.

“You won’t tell me? Why?” I ask.

Still, he says nothing.

“Fine, then! I won’t tell you mine either.” I pout. I resorted to calling him “Fox Boy” if he didn’t want to disclose his true identity.

We end up back at the town square. Fox Boy glances behind him, looking at me only briefly.

“I’m not going to play with you,” He states. I frown.

“I know!” I replied.

Why is he acting like I’m bothering him? I only want to make sure he’s alright! I grumble in my head.

I contemplated simply leaving him to brood, but I couldn’t walk away from someone who had helped me, even if he had a bit of a sour attitude. I had to repay him somehow.

“I saw your bruise,” I told him softly. The mention of it made his shoulders tense. “Does it hurt?”

It certainly looked like it. It was splotchy and purple, like the filling of a blueberry custard pie. I’ve seen bruises like that at the dancer house, and the ladies always wince when applying ointment or makeup over them.

“No,” he says smoothly. I reach out my hand, and he immediately flinches, which proves my suspicions.

Maybe that’s why he was acting like this. I know when I get bruises from falling or Madame Whispet, it sours my mood too.

“I’ll get you something. I’ll be right back, wait here!” I say to him before dashing around him to maybe uplift his spirits on such a joyous night.