Magic of the Marlfox
Never in his life has he been this scared. Deason was alone, the only one who knew the truth. Not all the Marlfoxes had been vanquished. One, only one, survived. Alone in his belief, everyone else thought the scary stories he heard at the camp fire had gotten to his head. As the snow settled over the abbey, a barely audible sound reached the sentry.
"Mother Nona, I think that's your ol' dibbun out there. Must've ran out through the east wall gate. We really need to put the lock a little higher, ya know," reported Dinsley, the bravest being in the abbey.
"You must've been up there to long, Dinsley. I have got that little rascal Ronun right here," Mother Nona replied in a slightly confused tone.
"It's the Marlfox!" shouted Dinsley in a tone that was only too surprised.
Suddenly, a squirrel jumped out from nowhere. He was clad in light armor, and a double-ended squirrel javelin was grasped in his paw. "I am goin' after whatever that is!" shouted Deason through his helmet.
"I was just playing around!" exclaimed Dinsley. But it was too late; Deason had already ran through the gate, out into the freezing forest of Mossflower.
The fox was rubbing his paws together. The action created a green mist to envelope him. "This will teach those peace makers that Marlfoxes really can do magic! Foolish fakes, that's all they really. I am the real Marlfox! Nature is at my command!"
Deason saw the fox, and suddenly stopped in his tracks. Was this a real Marlfox, or was it another of Dinsley's? He didn't care. As he got closer, the Marlfox, whose name was Marlen, started noticing Deason. "Fool, you can not interfere with my magic!"