Silently, the otter kit crouched, hiding behind a large log house. She could hear them coming, their heavy breaths and running footpaws. They were many, she was one. Looking back, she bolted from her hiding spot, and ran headlong onto a tall male fox sneaking into the camp. Hastily muttering her apologies, she ran off, with the bewildered fox following her. With little effort, the male caught up to her, and stepped in front of her. The otter tried her best to pass, but he held her back just as her stalkers appeared. Her hunters were little, like her, only roaming as a pack. She wasn't strong or fast like them. Her build was somewhat frail, and she was smaller than the others. They considered her different, and they persecuted her.
"Let 'er go!" Sneered one of the two squirrels.
Glennoar then clung to the fox pleading in her high-pitched voice. "Don't leggo o' me mate, keep 'em away from me!"
The fox feeling compassion for this young otter tormented by her fellow tribe mates, placed her behind him, and put an ebony colored paw on the hilt of his dagger.
"You can have her providing you can defeat me."
The group of dibbuns barely under the age of seven seasons shuffled around nervously. The idea of attacking a fox armed with a dagger didn't exactly appeal to them. So much for their idea of 'fun'.
"Grrrr, ye can keep her." One of them snarled, before the raging pack left them.
The fox them turned to her smoothing out his bright yellow shirt covering a pair of blue pants, his red face showing concern. "Are you okay?" He kneeled down to look into Glennoar's tear stained face.
The young female otter nodded slowly quivering as tears of rage streamed openly down her face. "I hate 'em. I hate 'em. One day I'll sho 'em."
The male fox shook his broad head slowly rubbing a black paw across his heavily tattooed face. "No, hate is not good. Hate will eventually eat you up inside. It is wrong to hate. By the way, my name is Kuja, what is yours?"
Glennoar looked up into the fox's strange piercing eyes. "G...Gl...Glennoar. What be those lines on yore face?" Glennoar asked curiously pointing to the three lines etching their way across Kuja's face.
The fox lost his smile, and shrugged. "These are the marks of my clan, the Juska. One day Glennoar I hope to leave, and erase these lines away forever."
Glennoar nodded thoughtfully, scratching at a gnat bite on her left forearm. "Will you teach me how to run an' protect meself Kuja?" The male fox looked down onto his new friend, and smiled once more.
"Aye mate, I will."