The nameless girl wiped her dagger clean on her latest victim's clothing. His stained working clothes betrayed his profession as a laborer of some sort. But the girl cared not who he was or what he did, only what she could gain from him.
Having harvested his essence, she rooted through the many pockets on his clothing, but came up with only a few silver coins. She frowned. She had hoped for more. Oh well. The essence, as she had taken to calling it, had been the real prize anyway. Essence, that exhilarating, mysterious force that she looked forward to every time she took a life, the essence that would eventually make her human, that was always the ultimate goal. But the joyous feeling of the essence filling her mind was severely lessened of late. It was because, every time she killed, she felt a faint twinge of regret. It was….irritating. She had never felt it as a fox, and she could swear that with every kill the feeling grew stronger. She shrugged it off. This silly feeling would not impede her march towards true humanity.
She looked back down at her quarry. This had to have been her easiest kill yet. It had been almost comically simple to lure this fool to his death in this secluded garden, overhung with drooping branches. She had first noticed that many male humans paid special attention to her not long after her episode with the men at the inn, several towns away. Nearly every night since, she had used her gift of beauty to gain the attention of a man or two and lured him to a secluded area where he could be dispatched quickly and efficiently.
Eager to see if she had made any visible progress on her…condition, she padded over to a nearby pool of water that was fed by a trickling waterfall. She frowned with frustration as she saw that her ears were still firmly attached to the top of her head, poking unchanged out of her glossy black hair. Progress appeared to be painfully slow. She groaned. She knew that if she were patient, she would complete the transformation and become truly human, but it was excruciating to put in so much work and see so little in the way of results.
She sighed at last. Nothing for it now but to press on.
She rose to resume her search for prey.
She continued walking for a long time under the starry sky, but passed no one. Most in the village were in safely in their homes for the night. So it was with a fair amount of surprise that she came across a lone man emerging from an alley with a sack slung over his shoulder
She cracked a wry grin. A thief.
Upon seeing her, the slight man tensed and drew a dagger, instantly ready for trouble. The girl stalked seductively over towards him, palms towards him to show that she wasn't carrying a weapon. She had long since abandoned her soldier's uniform and sword. They drew too much attention. Her new clothing that she had made herself drew attention as well, but it was of a different sort. Now she appeared much more…inviting.
"Now, now, there's no need for that," she said, pointing at the wicked looking weapon clutched in a gloved hand. As the girl moved over towards him, hips swinging exaggeratedly, he took in her seductively low cut shirt and short skirt that showed off long legs. If he even noticed her ears and tails, he didn't show it. She flashed a charming smile and grabbed the folds of his cloak, drawing herself close to him. The color of the scarf he wore was quite fetching, she noticed. A deep crimson. Perhaps she would take it off him when she was done with him. "I'm hardly a threat to you."
He seemed to relax a bit, but didn't sheath his dagger. He swallowed hard before speaking. "I'm sorry, my lady, but I have to go." He said, with unexpected formality.
The girl pouted. "Oh, that's too bad. What's so important that it can't wait a minute or two?"
The thief shifted the sack on his shoulder uncomfortably. "My, ah, work. I'm sorry, but I can't stay."
She drew her face extremely close to his, and stared into his eyes. She had him on the hook, now she just needed to reel him in. "Won't you stay here with me?" She whispered.
He nodded enthusiastically. "Maybe just a few minutes."
She pulled him deeper into the alley. He followed without resistance, seemingly entranced by the girl's beauty.
She leaned in close to him again, as if making to kiss him. He leaned forward eagerly, eyes shut. So he did not notice one of the girl's hands slipping around the hilt of the dagger, and he did not notice as she gently pulled it from his grip.
An instant before their lips met, she plunged the point of his own blade into his side.
About fifteen minutes later, the fox girl was shaking her head to clear it of that irritating pang of regret. She sighed in disbelief and in frustration. This man was thief! Had she not killed him, he would have killed her. He had even had his weapon at the ready!
So why did she feel like this was wrong?
She tried to put it out of her mind. But she couldn't shake the feeling that it was even stronger this time than it had been after she had killed her previous victim a few short hours ago, and quite a bit stronger than it had been on her first kill.
Eager to give herself a new task to occupy her mind with, she bent down over the frail, bone thin body and began searching his clothing. There wasn't much of anything useful- and anything with any value would be in the sack he had been carrying. She'd get to that in a minute. Her eyes drifted to the hilt of the dagger, still protruding from between the man's ribs. With a grunt of exertion, the girl tugged the weapon free. She looked over the blade's gleaming surface and ornate detailing with a smile.
"Nice knife," She said down to the dead thief. "I think I'll hang onto it."
She quickly unbuckled the sheath and strapped it onto her own waist, quite satisfied with the find. She glanced over at the bag the thief had been carrying. As she made for it, a male voice rang out from the far end of the alley, stopping in her tracks.
"Brant?" It called nervously. "Brant, you over here?"
The girl cursed herself. She shouldn't have lingered as long as she had, and she should have expected that the thief was not working alone. She quickly dove behind a trash bin and peered over the top at the source of the voice. She saw him round a corner into the alley.
At this distance and light level, the thief's companion could not have hoped to see her, but with her excellent vision she saw him quite clearly. His clothing was tattered much like his friend's, and he wore a similar blood colored scarf under his cloak, no doubt signaling his affiliation to a gang of some sort.
This was bad. If these two were in a gang, then more could show up at any time. She picked up a small stone near her feet, and hurled it across the alley so it landed behind the man with a dull crack. He whirled on the noise, and the girl took the opportunity to dash from her hiding place to the alley's exit.
So intent was she on escaping, she didn't notice two more cloaked men entering the alley into she plowed into them.
"Well well," One of them said, catching her about her arm. "Where are you going in such a hurry?"
She struggled to free herself, but in vain. The man's grip was iron.
"Not so fast," He said menacingly. "I don't think I'm done with you yet."
The thief she had distracted with the stone jogged up, short of breath. She saw now that he was quite large, much larger than any of the others she had seen thus far. Odd, given his occupation. "Don't let her go! She killed Brant!"
"What, the kid?" The man holding the girl asked, incredulous. "He's dead? You sure?"
"He's laying face down in a pool of his own blood, you idiot! Of course I'm sure!"
The girl's captor let the insult slide. "My my, not quite the little painted lady we appear to be, are we? " He said with a sneer. "He was such a nice kid. So polite. He didn't deserve that, did he?" He grabbed her other arm and pulled her close, tightening his grip and causing her to cry out. She turned her head away to avoid his gaze. "Hey, are these…cat ears?" He asked his companions confusedly, examining her head.
"Yeah, and look at that scarf of hers. It's attached, like a tail."
"What is she?" another thief inquired."
"Hell if I care," said the man holding her, looking her up and down. "Most of her looks human, and that's enough for me." He gave a sinister laugh.
"What should we do with her?" one of the other men asked with a snicker.
"Oh, I had something in mind," The man holding the fox girl said in a low voice, uncomfortably close to her ear. "But it involves a little less…clothing."
He let go of her arm to reach down for his knife. The girl wasted no time. She reached back with her now free hand and punched him in the gut. As he doubled over, she delivered a powerful uppercut to his chin before he or any of his companions could react, tugging her arm free and running as she did so. Behind her she heard the thief, stunned but still standing, growl, "This one has some fight in her. Go on, get her!"
She quickly rounded a corner, finding herself on a cluttered street. During the day it would have been a blur of activity, dozens of merchants selling their wares. But now, it was silent, and goods stacked in barrels and crates lined the empty street.
She glanced behind her. To her horror, the three thieves were already gaining on her. They were faster than even her, being used to escaping town guards, unlike the mercenaries she had run from on a night much like this many weeks earlier. She groaned at the similarity of her current situation. If she was going to make a habit of running from angry men, she'd have to be quicker.
She chanced another backwards look. One of the men, smaller and faster than the other two, managed to get close enough to reach for the long braid that was trailing behind her as she ran. With a gasp, she yanked it closer to her and out of his grasp. This was useless. They'd catch her eventually, she knew. She would have to take the fight to them at the earliest opportunity, but how? She could never fight three men armed with swords with only the dagger. She'd have to split them up, somehow.
Then, an idea struck her. As she passed a stack of barrels that towered over her, she kicked at it with all her might, toppling it and sending the barrels crashing down the street. The thief behind her nimbly leapt over them, but his two companions were not so fortunate. The barrels crashed into a merchant's stall, toppling the narrow support poles and sending the entire tent that covered it crashing down and barring their way.
"Get her!" One of them shouted from behind the wreckage. "We'll go around!"
The thief on her side of the barrier nodded and smiled viciously at the girl, drawing a wicked looking sword. She saw that under the cloak of his hood, he had a long jagged scar running down his face, across his brow, skipping over his eye and continuing along the cheek. She recognized him as one of the thieves she had run into on when she had tried to flee the alley, but it was not the one who had grabbed her. She noticed that she hadn't heard him speak once, this entire time. His eyes were cold and merciless, and she knew she could not talk her way out of this fight. She calmly drew her new dagger.
No words were exchanged. Instead, the thief began warily circling her, much like a predator might circle its wounded prey, searching for an opening in which to strike. The girl held her dagger in front of her in a reverse grip, and rotated to keep the deadly man well in front of her. They stared each other down, waiting for the other to make the first move. Then, like lightning, the thief rushed forward and lunged towards her, sword pointed forward to pierce her chest. She spun, causing the wicked point of the blade to miss all of her vital organs, but causing it to instead slice through the thin red fabric of her sleeve and deep into the flesh beneath. She cried out in pain, and found that she could only barely use the wounded arm. Thankfully, it was her left arm, and would not greatly impair her fighting ability.
She bared her teeth in an almost animalistic fashion and faced her attacker again. He slashed at her, forcing her to sidestep it or lose an arm. He came at her again and again, trying to find a gap in her defense. It was as if the first attack had broken some sort of spell, for his blows came without cease, eschewing his tentative circling in favor of an unrelenting assault. But her reflexes were greater than that of any other girl, and the thief was both surprised and angered that she was able to dodge or parry every one of his attacks with her dagger. However, these strikes were not the heavy, clumsy blows of the mercenary she had fought not long before; they were measured, precise, and quick. If she had been fighting a bear the first time, this was more like fighting a wolf. Further, his sword had much more range than her dagger, and his light blade meant it was always moving, never letting her get in close, and he seemed to never tire. She knew she'd have to get him to make a mistake.
"Come on," She taunted as leapt back to avoid a horizontal rake. "You can't kill me if you can't hit me!"
The man said nothing in reply, but her tactic was having the desired effect. His eyes clouded with rage and his blows came harder as he tried to silence her arrogant words. But it was to no avail. He raised his arms and swung downwards in a powerful strike, but the girl simply raised her dagger and shoved the blade aside as it came thundering down, creating a shower of blue sparks as their steel met.
"Don't talk much, do you?" She called coyly as she sidestepped a vicious backhand blow. He was taken off balance. There- that was her chance! "What's the matter? Fox got your tongue?" She jeered as she spun and kicked low, sweeping his legs out from under him. On his back, winded, he had no time to react as she leapt on top of him, straddling him.
He found his voice at the last. "You bitch," he spat, an instant before the girl plunged the dagger into his chest.
She hurriedly yanked his essence from his writhing body. Strands of the ghostly green energy trailed after her as she sprinted away, lighter than air.