Page 1 of Foxin' Around

Prologue

The fox’s eyes shifted among the heavy shadows of the trees. The Eternal Forest had bled easily into these woods, bringing to life a new energy that felt at once familiar and foreign. His ears pricked as he caught sight of silvery water shimmering in the moonlight between the trees. A lake. It was a welcome sight. After walking so long, he would enjoy a chance to bathe and refresh himself. He could then hunt out a spring to quench his thirst. There was running water nearby—he could smell it—but the lake would serve for his other needs first.

Pausing for a moment at the wood’s edge, he glanced up adoringly at the moon above, drawing strength from the energy radiating down on him. The moon was especially luminous that night, its power and beauty welcoming. The tension within his limbs released with relief and he smiled, his face bathing in moonlight. This was it—the place he had been looking for. Home.

He drew in a deep breath of the dank air as he stepped from the trees and assumed his two-legged form, the smile curling the corners of his mouth deepened when he caught the scent ofhumans. Company. How delightful. The scent was coming from a dwelling he could see a short distance away at the edge of the lake. His eyes skimmed over the building dismissively. He would not compete for it. He preferred his home to be more hidden and cleverly guarded. He ran a claw thoughtfully over the jeweled pendant resting against his chest as he regarded the dwelling. He would leave it to his human neighbors. That was agreeable. Foxes were not entirely antisocial, after all.

Although he had had been ejected from his territory by the intolerable presence of others invading his land and refusing to leave his territory—creatures that possessed far more brute strength and aggressive magic than a fox who wished to be left in peace—human neighbors would not be too taxing. Unless there was a powerful sorcerer among them, they would be incapable of forcing him out of his new home. And this time he would not make the same mistakes that he made before. He was sympathetic to those creatures who wished to seek out new territory to call home since the way had opened between the worlds, but he would set aggressive magic around his territory to drive them away.

As for the humans?—

A branch cracked loudly to his right and his head toward it, his smile widening as two human males stepped out from the trees. His gaze dropped curiously to the odd metal sticks they carried in their hands. He peered at them with amusement. How wonderfully bizarre.

“What the fuck—” whispered the younger, leaner male to the male somewhat his senior beside him.

The other shook his head, his jaw hardening despite the fear brightening his eyes. “I don’t know, Gabe. But I don’t want to find out, either. Better to just get rid of it now and ask questions later.”

Syrix smile dropped, no longer quite so amused. “That is not very hospitable, human. These woods are big, there is no reason to not live in peace with your neighbor. You might even benefit from it if you learn some manners.”

“Yeah… I don’t think so,” the male muttered as he lifted his stick.

Syrix stared at it blankly, but then it exploded, and a small bit of metal hit him with such force that it pierced him painfully. He yelped in pain as he recoiled, his hand instinctively going to his wound. He drew it back from his chest and stared down at his blood dripping from his fingers. It was not fatal, but pain radiated through him, stirring his anger as his eyes lifted to the humans.

The male who fired his stick at him began to tremble, the scent of his fear thickening as he lifted his stick again.

“Fuck!” the other shouted, backpedaling. “Why the fuck isn’t it dead?”

“Death is what you desire?” Syrix growled, a dangerous smile spreading across his face. “Very well.”

A snarl tore from him as he leaped. The stick went off harmlessly into the trees and the screams of the humans echoed amid the sounds of crunching bones and tearing flesh until the wet sounds of feasting were all that remained.

Satiated, Syrix turned and leaned against the tree as he sat among its roots, picking his teeth with a bit of broken finger bone. The bushes rustled nearby, and his gaze dropped as a silvery-red common fox peered at him. Syrix lowered the bone to smile at the fox.

“Well, hello there, friend.”

Months later…

The forest was quiet. Too quiet. Syrix’s fox ears twitched, and he cocked his head, listening for any hint of change in the forest. His claw paused on the edge of the petal of the wild dogwood flower. The low, flowering branches were filled with a charming spray of white blooms now that spring had come. All morning the forest had been bursting with sound as flocks of birds flitted from tree to tree and small burrowing animals moved among the brush. The silence had fallen so unexpectedly that the fur on his tail prickled and lifted warily.

His red gaze slid to Fixi, the silver-red fox he shared his territory with.

“What do you suppose it is?” he murmured.

The fox yawned, displaying his tiny, needlelike teeth, but otherwise offered no insight or help.

Syrix lowered his hand from the flower and gave the fox a disgruntled look. “Some help you are. Seeing how this is my territory, one would think that you would make more of an effort being companionable.”

Fixi’s eyes glinted with unmistakable amusement. The fox yipped as he sprang to his feet and disappeared under a honeysuckle bush, the thick brush of his tail slipping beneath the greenery. Syrix watched him go impassively, a faint smile curling the corners of his mouth. It was just like one of his brethren to make their escape before he could ask more of them.

Shaking his head, he stepped away from the bush. He could not expect too much. A common fox was not evolved enough to be equal to a spirit fox. It would take hundreds of years for the little fox’s spiritual body to evolve beyond its simple form and hundreds of years more before they could be reborn as a spirit fox and take a humanoid two-legged form. In that course, its mind would continue to develop beyond the simpler desires of the common fox. Because of that, their usefulness to him was limited. While they made useful eyes and ears, there was only somuch information they had access to, and their communication was often vague, when they were willing to offer anything at all.

Perhaps, after all this time, it was time to admit it: he was lonely. The foxes could be entertaining or amusing at times, and affectionate, but they did not give him the kind of companionship he desired. Perhaps he been too quick to eat his neighbors. He wanted someone to talk to. No, that was too simple. Such a goal was far too broad, and the gods had a terrible sense of humor. He wanted… a mate.

Glancing back toward the dogwood, he snagged several bright blossoms from one of the myrtle bushes clustered together around it in a blanket of vivid pink flowers and thrust them into his pocket. A bit of magic to lure in the perfect female would be necessary.

His tail brushed the air in a graceful whip and his outer robes swung around him as he spun away and continued along the hidden forest path back to his den. It was not something that most would be able to find. Not only was it hidden deep within his territory, but the passage that went beneath the massive root system of his forest was well hidden both by magic and design.

Leaving his flowering pleasure grove behind, Syrix walked along the path back to his abode. He glanced fondly upon the fragrant flowers blooming among the trees and bushes as he passed, stopping occasionally to gather some flowers or leaves of a specific occult plant necessary for his magic. All the while, he imagined the delight a mate would find in them. Every flowering bush and low plant was born from seeds he had selectively strewn and cultivated as a tangle of beauty within the wilderness so that they made this pleasure grove and the path to it one that pleased and enriched the senses.

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