Ch. 2
The fox girl opened her eyes to darkness. Was she dead? She tried to open her mouth to utter something, but there was only silence. She moved her eyes right, left, up and down. Not a single source of light to be found anywhere.
So this was what death felt like. Nothingness. There wasn't any afterlife, no shining sanctuary where the dead could wake up and rejoice at their discovery of an existence after death. This was oblivion, and she and her mother had been condemned to it for eternity.
Her Mother!
The girl reached out into the void with her arms, desperately flailing about for something. A sensation. Anything.
Her mother was somewhere out there - she had to be. The girl refused to believe what her mind was telling her. But how would she ever find her in this darkness?
A wisp of blue light streaked across her vision like a falling star, and the girl felt a warmth grow from within her. The same warmth she had felt earlier in the forest. It was as if a tiny fire had kindled inside her belly and, afraid of being snuffed out by an errant gust of wind, furiously tried to grow larger and stronger. It filled her chest with warmth, spurring the girl to take a sudden, deep gasp of air. Heavenly air!
In an instant, a flood of memories crashed into her mind with the force of a raging tornado - her mother's body sliced open and gutted, the severed head falling with a thud onto the floor, empty eyes directed at her and yet looking at nothing. She could recall every horrifying detail and emotion with a clarity she had never before experienced in her existence as a fox.
She begged for those images to stop, to return to the singular purpose she had known as a fox. She didn't want to remember anything anymore! She twisted this way and that, desperately seeking to end this nightmare, or whatever it was.
If she was dead, just let her sleep in peace!
-o-o-o-
-o-o-o-
Margaret Walker sat quietly on a stool in her son's bedroom, staring intently at the little girl before her. Nine fox tails, and two fox ears. She was undoubtedly one of the ferals.
Henry had warned against helping her. Ferals were known to be unpredictable. Especially in this case, the girl was obviously being hunted or chased by someone, or something, which could only mean trouble if the hunter was able to track the girl down to their home.
Margaret knew Henry was probably right, but she just couldn't find it in her heart to leave such a young girl to die, feral or not. When she had brought her in, the girl was a mess of blood, sweat, and tears. Her face had been battered and broken, her legs and feet covered in bloody gashes, and it looked like she hadn't eaten in days. Everything about it just looked wrong.
"Let me help her survive, at least," she had told him. "She's in no position to hurt anyone, and we can decide what to do once she's out of danger. Would you rather we cast her out and let her die to exposure?" Henry, being the secretly soft hearted man she knew him to be, had reluctantly agreed to her plea after some consideration. Thus Margaret had ended up becoming the temporary caretaker of the fox girl, trying to help her in any way she possibly could.
Although Margaret was no doctor, she knew enough from life and raising her son that wounds this extensive and exposed to the elements were liable to become infected. She had tried her best to clean and wrap the girl's wounds immediately after taking her in, but within a few hours the girl had begun to develop a strong fever. Margaret had spent an entire sleepless night watching over the girl, undressing infected wounds, cleaning the pus and dead material with water, and redressing them. The wounds by themselves did not look fatal, but in the girl's weakened state, the combination of infection, fever, and blood loss still posed a serious threat, and Margaret had been forced to keep the girl's temperature under control by constantly shedding the heat off with a bevy of wet towels that had been soaked in lukewarm water. These tasks had basically taken up the entire night, and part of the morning as well.
In her intense concentration Margaret barely noticed the sound of a door creaking open, and her husband walking in. She continued to dote over the girl, slowly lifting a patch of fabric she had ripped up that had been covering a nasty gash below the girl's left eye. The wound had scabbed, but was blood red and swollen.
"So how's it doing, Maggie?"
Her husband walked up behind her to take a peek at the girl's condition.
Margaret murmured something inaudibly in response. She picked up a pad of cotton dipped in alcohol and cleaned the wound under the girl's eye. She then ripped a fresh piece of fabric, applied some sticky ointment to it, and applied the makeshift bandage over the cut.
"I'll look after the feral for a bit, alright? You need to go get some rest," her husband said.
"I'm worried, Henry. Her wounds seem to be healing better now, though the cut on her face will likely leave a scar. But her fever doesn't seem to be getting any better."
"I know you're worried, Maggie, but there isn't much you can do for her now." Henry placed a hand on his wife's shoulder and squeezed, hoping to get her attention. "I'll make sure to re-wet the towels and try to keep the fever under control. I'm not a miracle worker, but I can do that, at least."
Margaret got up from her stool, and stared down at the girl. She seemed to be sleeping more quietly now, which reassured her somewhat. She felt a sudden wave of fatigue wash over her, and sighed to herself. "I suppose I'll go and get breakfast ready, then get some sleep after."
"There's no need. I already made some potatoes and eggs. I left some for you also."
"Thanks, Henry. Call me if she wakes up, ok?" Margaret gave her husband a kiss on the cheek, then started to head out of the room. She suddenly stopped by the doorway, however, and turned back. Something had been bothering her.
"Henry -"
"I've got it, Maggie. Just go eat already."
"No, it's just - I want to tell you about something weird I experienced last night. While I was trying my best to treat her wounds, the girl suddenly started thrashing about, and reaching out with her arms as if searching for something. I had thought she was just having a little nightmare, but then she started struggling for her breath, as if being suffocated by some unknown force. Not knowing what to do, I reached out and grabbed hold of her arms to keep her still, and whispered a little lullaby into her ear, hoping to calm her down. The girl responded by crying out - it sounded like the word 'mother' - and then she opened her eyes and looked right at me - her pupils had a color of amber and seemed to glow slightly."
Margaret paused for a bit, as if she were suddenly doubting her own words. "I could swear then that I saw a weird blue glow surround both of us, and then - I suddenly felt as if I had caught on fire. I felt as though I would burn up in a blaze of flames, so I let go of the girl and reached out for the water basin in panic. But as soon as I let her go, the feeling just vanished. I looked back at the girl, and she had gone back to sleeping peacefully, as if nothing had happened. It seems silly, but when I think back about it...perhaps I had just fallen asleep and had a nightmare without realizing it. But it felt frighteningly real to me."
Henry pondered Margaret's words for a moment, then chuckled to himself. "The guys would have loved to hear this one. Of course you've never experienced rune-fervor..."
Margaret gave her husband a puzzled look. "Rune-fervor? Why would that happen here? We don't use any quintessences, and the runes we do use are just tiny little flakes."
Her husband's tone and manner seemed to sour a little as he turned to look at her. "I've had to deal with a few ferals during my time as a Sentinel, Maggie. You may just see them as another species of humans, but they're entirely different from us."
"Stop it, Henry. We've already had this argument." Margaret shifted uncomfortably. Her husband's tone had changed so suddenly.
"I'll let the feral stay until it's able to walk. Then we make it leave, ok?"
"We'll decide that once she's awake and fully able to take care of herself, and not a moment sooner."
Margaret didn't stay to hear her husband's response, and hurriedly left the room. She went to the kitchen, found the plate of food waiting for her, and grabbed a few bites of the potatoes. She didn't bother to sit down, instead mulling over what her husband had just said.
Rune-fervor? Was that what she had experienced last night? It didn't make any sense. The tiny bit of rune energy they chose to use in the home were just little flakes embedded inside mechanistic devices, and certainly none of those flakes were used directly for organic-based magic. Rune crystals refined for use by humans were specifically called quintessences, but neither she nor Henry used them in the house - nor would they, even if they could afford those prohibitively expensive little crystals. Henry might have had exposure to them during his service with the Piltover Sentinels, but the Sentinels were primarily known for their use of mechanical devices - quintessences were more the realm of Piltover's sister city, Demacia, which had no shortage of talented quint mages like Luxanna Crownguard who could withstand the harsh effects of rune-fervor.
Margaret stabbed at some of the cold scrambled eggs with her fork, and jabbed them into her mouth absentmindedly. Henry could be so stubborn and mistrustful sometimes, but even she didn't understand his petty dislike for the ferals. Ferals were an uncommon minority in the human dominated cities of Valoran, and while they did often have odd and unpredictable behaviors, for the most part they were relatively mild mannered, and stayed out of most human affairs. She supposed the dislike was a trait shared among current and former members of the Sentinels - there had been very minor conflicts between the two groups in the past, but Henry had elected to take an early discharge from the Sentinels after attaining the rank of Captain. Regardless, she was not going to let the fox girl go until she was completely recovered and able to fend for herself. She resolved not to let henry bully her on this matter.
Feeling the fatigue of last night's rigors catching up to her, Margaret pushed the plate of eggs and potatoes away, got up, and headed towards her bedroom. She didn't bother to put on her nightgown, and simply plopped onto the bed. Her thoughts drifted to her son Roland, who was scheduled to come home later today. She started to wonder how he would react to the presence of the fox girl, but did not get to finish her thought as she drifted off into sleep.
-o-o-o-
The first thing the fox girl felt when she woke up was the dryness of her parched throat. She opened her eyes and was greeted with a blurry image of a plain, slightly mottled but smooth brown surface above her. Her right was blocked off by the same smooth surface. As she traced the two planes she could see that they connected on four points and extended to form a sort of square enclosure. In an instant it dawned on the girl that she was now inside the home of one of those tall creatures - the humans. The girl tried to get up from where she laid, but was stopped by a series of both sharp and dull aches throughout her entire body. Her muscles ached with that dull, burning sensation commonly experienced after bouts of extreme exertion.
The girl laid back down. Slowly she began to ascertain her surroundings. Parts of her body had been wrapped and bound in fabric, but they did not restrict her movement much. The girl spread the palm of her hand out in front of her face, and stared with muted acceptance at her long, delicate fingers, each of which she could move with uncanny dexterity. Fragments of memories began to take shape within her mind. She remembered her desperate flight through the forest, the throbbing pain she felt on her face, hands, feet, and body. She remembered ignoring the burn in her chest as she continued to run and leap through the forest beyond the limits of her endurance, ushered onwards by a strength she did not know she had.
The girl heard a strange noise from the far end of the room, and she turned her head in time to see a male figure enter the room. The girl widened her eyes in fear as the man took notice of her, and slowly walked towards her. She did not move from her resting spot, frozen by a combination of fatigue and fear.
The girl stared warily at the man as he approached closer, wondering what he was planning to do to her. She knew she had been unconscious and helpless for a period of time - though she did not know how long - so she was able to guess that this man was not here to kill her. She would have been dead already if that were the case. She nonetheless felt her heart begin to beat faster as the man walked up next to her. The man stared down at her with a sort of empty expression, then vocalized a series of strange sounds to her. She did not understand any of it, so she simply stared back at the man's face nervously and tried to gather some sort of emotion from his features. There were none. Then, to her amazement, the man simply backed off, turned around, and left the room, leaving her alone with her thoughts.
The girl turned her head back and gazed passively at the brown ceiling above her. With no one in the room and nothing for her to do except lay there, the slow realization of her current state began to creep up on her. All of her present memories were now of a life she no longer belonged to.
She recalled past mornings of her life as a fox, where she would wake up to the bittersweet smell of fresh honeysuckles blooming in the conifer forest. She would get up on all fours, arch her back, and lazily stretch out her muscles. When she felt ready, she would walk out of the cool, damp burrow in which she and her mother lived and out into the dusky forest, where beams of morning sunlight would penetrate through the canopy, forming small patches of heaven where she would sit and recline in while taking in the warmth of the sun's rays. The girl felt her chest throb with an unfamiliar pain as she envisioned her mother coming out of the burrow, coming to rest beside her, and giving her a loving nudge, prodding her on to whatever new adventure awaited them that day.
The girl tried to snap herself out of her little reverie. Although the memory was a happy one, it only made her sad, and the girl tried desperately to bury it inside herself. She did not want to think of her mother as it only filled her chest with pain and an empty longing. She tried to concentrate on the moment at hand instead. Was she a prisoner here? If she was, how would she escape her captors? Were these people related to the ones she had met in the forest earlier? She did not remember seeing on the man the distinctive blue circular symbol she had seen on the three men in the forest.
The fox girl heard more voices coming from outside her room. They were distinct - one female, one male. She turned her head towards the entrance, and saw a woman enter the room. In her right hand she held a tall, gray container. The woman flashed a reassuring gaze at the girl, walked up to where the girl lay, and knelt down beside her. Slowly she brought the tall, narrow container next to the girls lips. The girl drew back at first, unsure of what the woman wanted from her, but when she looked into the container she saw that it contained...
Water!
Remembering how dry and parched her throat was, the girl struggled onto her elbows, and gave the woman a hesitant glance. Oh, how she desperately hoped that the water was for her to drink! The woman gestured encouragingly at the girl and gave her a reassuring smile. Feeling a bit braver now, the girl leaned forward over the water container, stuck out her tongue, and lowered her head into the container, trying to lap up some of the water. To her dismay, she found that she could only slurp up precious few droplets, as the container was impossibly small. She found that she was unable to stick her tongue out far enough into the container. Growing a bit frustrated, the fox girl looked up at the woman, who had on her face a sort of amused expression. The woman gently grabbed hold of the girl's hand. The girl did not shrink back, but instead let the woman guide her hand onto the container. The container was placed below the girl's lips, and slowly tilted forward.
In a flash of realization, the girl proceeded to sit up a bit and placed both hands on the container. She opened her mouth wide, and eagerly tilted the container in so that the water gushed into her mouth. This method of drinking seemed immediately obvious to her now, but she had been so stuck in her previous frame of habit that she had not even considered other options. Now the girl drank the blissfully refreshing water with untold glee. Much of the water missed its mark and instead streamed haphazardly out of the girl's mouth and down her cheeks, but she did not care. The girl tilted the container further inward and gulped down the remaining water, and she felt a thrilling jolt run down her body as her intense thirst was finally sated.
With the water finally gone, the girl looked back up at the woman, who had been watching her with a sort of intrigued expression on her face, and sheepishly handed the now empty container back to the woman. The girl decided that she liked this woman. She didn't know how, but she felt that she knew this was the woman who had cared for her and helped her while she had been unconscious. What's more, she had this feeling of safety with this woman that reminded her of the happy memories of her mother.
The woman stood up from her chair, and began to turn around. The girl quickly realized that she was about to leave, so she let out a soft little cry, reached out with her arm, and grabbed hold of the woman's hand. Startled, the woman turned to look at the girl. The girl stared back with pleading eyes, begging silently for the woman to stay with her. She tightened her grip on the woman's hand, and tried to tug her back. With her mother gone, the girl had struggled to deal with and suppress her feelings of loneliness. Now that she had finally found someone who seemed to care for her, the girl was now terrified of losing her newfound friend. She did not want to be alone, to face those feelings of loss and loneliness again.
Looking into the girl's eyes, the woman decided to acquiesce to the girl's touching plea, and sat back down. The girl, still feeling weak and tired from her ordeals, laid down and closed her eyes. They stayed like this for awhile, the girl's hand happily latched onto the woman's, the woman looking on, until finally the girl's breathing began to rise and fall in a steady rhythm, and her grip began to relax. After making sure the girl was fast asleep, the woman carefully released the girl's hand and placed it onto the bed. She stood back up, but then hesitated for a moment. She then bent down, gave the girl a loving kiss on the cheek, and then quietly left the room.