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Chapter 8. Walls
by Zula
"Zula."
The voice was stern, with hardly a trace of its usual lilt. The young vixen did not look up at her mother, deciding instead to twist the hem of her skirt in her grimy claws.
"Yes, Mam?" she asked quietly.
Nelda Higgins planted herself in front of Zula. Zula stared at the meticulously pedicured footpaws before her.
"I gave you a job, Zula."
"I know, Mam, an' I..."
A sharp claw lifted her chin none-too-gently until Zula was staring into her mother's livid face. It was remarkable how clean she kept her fur, and how desperately she tried to hold on to her fading looks. Zula had never quite understood that about her mother, though it was but one of many things.
"Are you listening to me, Child?" Nelda's eyes narrowed.
"Erm. Yes."
She hadn't been.
"What was I just sayin' to you, then?"
"Er...what a bad job I've done?" It was never that hard to guess.
"Exactly," her mother spat. "Sure an' I give you an ounce of responsibility and you can't even handle that! I swear, you're an absolute nightmare."
Zula gulped somewhat painfully around the claw pressed against the underside of her muzzle. "Please, Mam, I'm not tryin' t' disappoint you, I'm not. It's just that, well, I don't find what you do t' be...t' be all that...interestin'..."
Nelda's glare became icier with every word her daughter spoke, until the younger vixen lost her nerve entirely and trailed off. The ice in Zula's mother's stare was nothing compared to the venom in her voice when next she spoke.
"You are my daughter, you hear me? You are mine! It's not a matter of wanting to, it's a matter of being able to eat! If you hadn't noticed, Child, food is much harder to come by these days. Do you think Carlotta, the other vixens and myself are with even half the slobs we serve because we want to be? This is our lot in life, it's just what we're meant to do, and now with the woodlanders around it's harder than ever to find any business. Blast it to hellgates, now you've made me keep a customer waiting!"
The knocking had started, soft at first but escalating to a desperate pounding during Nelda's speech. The vixen tore her claw away, ignoring Zula's little squeak of pain as she broke skin. Zula watched her mother storm out, leaving her standing alone in Nelda's bedroom and surrounded by all sorts of disgusting silk sheets and cushions and various questionable objects that, had Zula not already known their true purpose, may have piqued her insatiable curiosity.
And now her glasses were gone.
Well, first the woodlanders had poured in when her mother answered the door, binding the scarlet females and dragging them out into the street with angry cries. And then, a big beast had barged right into Nelda's room. He had tiny little ears and an enormously thick tail, and Zula thought he was called an otty or something like that. She'd never seen one up close before, because her mother had never allowed them in.
"Here, girl," the otty had said kindly. "I'm going to save you from all of this, okay?"
Save her? Well, now, that sounded just dandy. Her mother certainly wouldn't miss her, and Zula wouldn't have to keep making a mess of everything there.
"Okay," Zula had replied, taking his paw and letting him lead her out of the brothel, past the pile of matchwood that had once been the front door. The sign had fallen into the street, its brazen letters which spelled out The Golden Brush now covered in all manner of dirty pawprints as the woodlanders tromped across it. There had been lots of otties, fat beasts that looked like pincushions, tiny rats, and slightly bigger rats with the fluffiest tails Zula had ever seen. They were all talking to each other in low voices as they turfed Nelda, Carlotta, and the other vixens on the ground in a line and kept their weapons fixed on them.
"The brothels should've been the first priority," a tiny rat had said.
"Aye," a walking pincushion agreed.
"This way," the otty had said to Zula, leading her away down the street to an old tavern.
"You seem like a nice otty, sir," Zula said, smiling.
He laughed. "That's 'otter,' actually, but thank you. You're not bad yourself."
"Ah, me humblest apologies, sir. Mother never let otters in the house afore. Dunno why, if they're all nice like you."
The otter thought for a moment. "Yeah, sure."
He pushed the tavern door open and Zula felt herself immediately hauled away by a pair of strong paws that poked and prodded her all over. One of the rats with an enormous tail searched her for something, reached for her green vest and began to tug at it.
"Me vest! Not me vest!" Zula howled, squirming and kicking.
"Jurven, that's enough, she's just a child!"
"A child, Gericault?" the brush-tailed beast spat. "She's a vermin! You don't know the kind of things she could be hiding. Did you find her in that brothel?"
"As a matter of fact, I did," Gericault sniffed. "But she's harmless, I swear."
"Well, your head be on it, streamdog," Jurven growled, marching stiffly away.
"Now Miss," Gericault said. "I'm going to have you wait in a room for a while. Er, you've got plenty of new friends waiting for you there."
"Okay, providin' it's not a long wait, sir," Zula said, instinctively clutching her oversized vest to herself as she was led into a dimly lit hallway and shut into a room with a few other beasts. She waved, but none of them waved back. Some friends they were.
Slowly the room filled, until Ms. Pearl, a marten, and a wolf inhabited it with her. And, of course, the snake. When the box got thrown in, Zula had to duck to avoid getting beaned in the head.
And that was when she lost her glasses.
Everyone shrank back from the snake, but Zula, on the pretense of asking where her glasses were, moved in for a closer look. The beast's scales rippled and undulated with every movement, the swirling, scaly patterns mesmerizing the young vixen. It was the most interesting beast she'd ever laid eyes on. She let the snake up onto her shoulders, giggling with glee as the rough scales met her fur.
"You're a cute little critter, you are!" she laughed. "Look, everyone!"
She took a step forward and there were several cries of alarm.
"What, Silisk? She won't hurt you! She's just a little snakey!"
"Stay away from me," the wolf growled.
"Oh. All right then."
Zula stayed where she was, watching Rea and the others as they began to have a conversation with the beasts in the next room. Then they started looking for a weak spot or something (she'd been too busy staring at Silisk's flicking tail to really pay attention). Eventually she looked up again, and that's when she saw it.
There was a dark, blurry line running down the wall about halfway across. The adolescent vulpine was drawn instinctively toward it to catch a better glimpse, ignoring the gasps of alarm as the others backed off, abandoning their search to get away from her scaly passenger. Zula poked the dark spot cautiously with a claw. Wood fibers peeled away. Grinning, the vixen reached into an inner vest pocket and extracted her favorite knife. It was small, but she kept it nice and sharp. Without hesitation the fox plunged it deep into the wall.
"Hey, I'm talking to you!" a voice growled.
Zula turned to find the wolf glaring at her.
"Mam?"
"I asked you what in Siren's name you're doing," she huffed.
"Oh, this wall, see, it's got water damage it does," she explained. "Heard some voices on th' other side and thought I'd use me knife to..."
"You brought a knife? How did you sneak that in?" the marten wondered.
Zula shrugged.
"Let's not announce it to the whole world, shall we?" Ms. Pearl cautioned.
"Just move, all right?"
Zula tugged the knife free and dodged aside as the wolf hurried forward.
"Are you thick or just that oblivious? Of course there are voices, but a tiny little knife like that isn't going to do us any good."
The canine's claws went to work, tearing at the wall. Silisk slithered down Zula's body to the floor to avoid the damp scraps of wood that flew everywhere.
The marten appeared at Zula's side, holding out something to her in her paw.
"Me glasses!" she squeaked, taking them from her and putting them on, smiling as the world came back into focus. "I can't be thankin' you enough, mam."
"Oh, don't worry about it. My name's Sybil, by the way."
"Sybil? That's a pretty name," Zula said.
"Why, thank you!" the marten grinned. "Say, that's a fine blade you've got on you. Could I borrow that for a while?"
Zula's face fell. "Oh, no, sorry, mam, but this is me own special knife. I already lost me glasses an' I'm sure I don't know what I'd do without me knife."
CRUNCH.
The wolf's fist had sunk clear through the wall. She yanked it out with a grunt and peered in the sizable hole she'd made.
"Hello?" she called softly.