“Tough winter for all of us, huh?”
Elona spoke softly, trying not to frighten away the creature scarfing down the chunk of meat. The poor fox looked as if he hadn’t eaten in days, perhaps more than a week. His sunken expression only made his gaze, filled with a pathetic desperation, more intense. That gaze contrasted with his bravery in approaching her, and Elona’s heart melted. Just a smidgen, that’s all. Cutting off another piece of the deer she had no appetite for, Elona set it down in the space that remained between them. The fox eyed her, warily almost, before sidestepping slightly closer. He looked at her, watching, before lowering his head and gulping up the meat greedily. Amused despite herself, Elona let out a strange chuckle.
“I’ve been underestimating my cooking, I see.”
The smile felt odd, felt stiff. How long had it been since she’d smiled so freely, with no thought to the cost? A deep loneliness had long since seeped into her bones, making them feel heavy and sore. Yet the sight of the bold fox, edging yet closer to her, seemed to lighten that burden. This creature had every right to fear her, and yet he — if he was in fact a he — didn’t. She’d heard humans speak of trusting an animals instincts, so surely if this fox didn’t fear her, she wasn’t as monstrous as she believed? It was a risky thought to believe in, and Elona froze the seed of hope that had started to bloom within her chest. Hope was a dangerous, heady drug. One she’d thought she’d long since learned the lesson of. Memories began to flit through her, but Elona stubbornly shoved them aside.
The fox took another hesitant step towards her, before it nudged her hand. She gave a soft gasp, unused to the contact, surprised the animal had initiated it. His fur was slightly coarse, the forest that was his home leaving a faint dirt coating, but it was quite possibly the softest touch she’d ever felt. It didn’t compare to the brisk slaps and abrupt nudges that colored her past, nor the quickly impartial contact of her teacher. It was gentle and sweet. There was an unspoken acceptance in the touch, even if the fox might not have intended one. Actually, it was easy enough to guess what he had in fact wanted.
“Still hungry, my friend?”
The endearment had never left her lips before, but it slipped off them now as smoothly as the river swept over rocks. She’d had about as much control over it as she had over the river, too. Elona lifted her hands to cut more meat off of the spit. This time, she set the knife down as far away as she could reach, and extended the meat towards the fox in her other palm. She wasn’t sure why. Perhaps she was craving more contact? Whatever her reasons for offering it that way, the fox gingerly took it, his whiskers tickling against Elona’s palm. She felt the light smile on her face ease into a natural expression of contentment.
Whatever this feeling was— companionship, perhaps?— it was very nice. The word felt insufficient, it was possible there were better words for it, but nice was all she could apply to it. Nice was rare enough for her, she didn’t need more than that. Wasn’t sure how to accept anything more than that. Too much overindulgence in moments like these, and the lonely moments would only sting that much more. When the fox left, as he would, the weight would return and it’d be all the harder to carry.
Haltingly, Elona shifted her hand to the top of the foxes head and gave a pat. Despite all her cautions to herself, she was determined to appreciate all from this encounter that she could. The fox seemed to peer up at her, an unfathomable expression in his amber-edged eyes, and she began to softly scratch behind one of his ears. His eyelids fluttered down, masking the impossibly understanding gaze, and the fox rested his weight against her leg. Smiling still, Elona found herself speaking to the fox. Who else did she have to speak to, anyway? What reason was there not to? A lifetime of silence didn’t appeal to her, but neither did the thought of anyone knowing so much about her. Nor did she want to risk baring herself to someone who didn’t wish to listen. Confiding in an animal might be the best sort of compromise with herself.
“Are you lonely too, my friend? You must be, to approach a hunter like me. Or incredibly hungry, at the very least. You’ve sure lucked out, I must be the only hunter to enter this forest with such a bleeding heart.”
His eyes opened, and he nuzzled his head against her leg. Taking it as encouragement, Elona asked him a question he couldn’t possibly answer.
“My friend, may I tell you a secret?”
Impossibly, the fox dipped his head. Choosing to believe that it had been a nod, no matter how unlikely that was, Elona leaned towards him. In a lowered voice, she confessed something she’d never had the nerve to say— especially not to her teacher.
“I don’t like to kill. I wish I was good at something less violent, but this is all I’ve got to feed myself.”
Elona couldn’t help the sigh that escaped her. It was tough to admit, even just to a hungry animal who likely couldn’t understand. She had tried many things, but with no one to teach her, she’d been left using the only skill she’d had any training in. It had seemed a game when it began, despite the open loathing that grizzly old man had often displayed, but those times had long passed. She shook away the memories as best she could, and returned her gaze to the fox at her side.
“... Thank you, my friend. It is nice to speak of it.”
Oddly, it was. Such a painful thing, and yet letting it out into the open had lessened it’s bite within her. There was much more to speak of, but even this animal didn’t deserve the burden of hearing all of her woes and tribulations. In a natural, almost absent minded gesture, Elona continued to stroke the top of the fox’s head. The soft rustle of his fur against her hand was soothing, perhaps more so for her than him.
Her self-imposed isolation, encouraged by the memories of those that had seen her water-touched side, had been wonderfully encroached on for an evening. Tonight, even if it was merely a fox seeking food, Elona had a friend. Someone to watch the fire with her, whose breathing filled the empty night. The sound of something, someone, other than her drawing air into its body to survive. It was something she hadn’t realized she missed, hadn’t realized would have such a profound effect on her.
As the night passed, Elona intermittently fed and pet the fox. At some point he laid down at her feet, drifting in and out of sleep as she chatted to him. Mostly she mentioned things that held no true importance, the very things she’d never had reason to share with someone. She spoke of how she prefered sunrises to sunsets, how her favorite food wasn’t the deer she hunted for profit, but fish. She even mentioned, during one of the moments he appeared to be resting, how much she envied the ladies she’d seen strolling around all decked out in glittering gems. She had only one, and it was a bittersweet thing.
The fox seemed to follow the sound of her voice, and from time to time it truly did feel like he was nodding along. It was the closest to an honest conversation she’d ever come. When the fox refused the meat, and no longer seemed to be rising at the sound of her voice, Elona leaned down and softly kissed his sleeping head.
“You have been a very dear friend, thank you. I have never shot at a fox, and now I most certainly never will. Sleep, I shall watch you. In the morning—” Elona’s voice abruptly shriveled, and her throat closed. It was surprisingly painful to bid farewell to the fox. So she didn’t. She let her sentence trail off into nothingness, and did as she’d said, watching over her friend as he slept.
~*~**~*~
“After all that I spoke of, I finally let you sleep. That morning, I offered you some of the meat to take with you… and you walked away.”
Elona’s face flushed, burning with the heat of an unending embarrassment. So much she’d said to that fox, that she’d never told a soul. Before or since. She’d kissed his head, scratched his ears. He had eaten from her hand. She’d taken the freedom of interacting with someone who’d never understand the depth of what she was doing, and used it to assuage her loneliness. She’d been wrong, though, and he’d been aware the whole time. This was humiliating.
Elona pulled Sionn closer into the hug, if only to bury her face in his shoulder so he couldn’t see her expression. Heavens knew he’d already known far more about her than she had suspected. As her embarrassment, against all odds, began to slowly abate, pieces fell into place. Things that had seemed innocent enough, if baffling at the time, now made sense. His comment about almost not recognizing her, his question about if she considered herself ruthless. Even the connection he had felt instantly that took its time growing within her. His eyes. Pulling back abruptly, Elona stared searchingly into Sionn’s now-shocked expression.
His tears were still drying on his flushed face, the red making his eyes stand out even more than normal. It’d been easy to see them and discard them as simply amber, but while the outer iris was a golden amber shade, the insides of his eyes were a warm reddish brown like that of redwood trees. It was striking, if you looked, and now that she had, it was achingly familiar.
“Your eyes are the same. How did I not notice it?” She’d even stared at his eyes when he’d found her in town, and not seen it. She’d stared into his eyes in that mirrored room, too, and not felt the spark of recognition.
“... Because you didn’t know that foxes that turned human existed?” Sionn offered helpfully, giving a lopsided and mildly sheepish grin. “Maybe even because I didn’t want you to know that that had been me?”
“Why not?” The stinging prickle of discomfort was immediate. If he had regretted their meeting, why track her down? “Why would you want to hide that?”
“Because I… I was pathetic. I am pathetic.” Sionn dropped his head again, refusing to meet her eyes. “I mean, how many times have you rescued me since that night?”
“You weren’t the only one rescued that night.”
The admission surprised Elona as much as it did Sionn. She felt his back stiffen beneath her hands, but he didn’t raise his head yet. She could almost hear him thinking back over the things she had said that night. She hadn’t recalled it very often, that was true, but that was the truth with most of her memories. Even still, Elona had gone over it often enough in her mind to remember it with vivid clarity. It had been a turning point. Not a phenomenal one, her life hadn’t changed with any significance since then. Not until she’d met Sionn again, unknowingly for the second time. Her life had, however, continued.
“I don’t… understand.” Sionn’s voice was hesitant, strained. It sounded as if he was struggling with having to admit he couldn’t figure it out.
“I live a very lonely life. As far back as I can recall, I always have.” Even when she hadn’t been alone, she’d been lonely. Elona shifted her eyes away, unable to look into his unbreaking gaze. “I was… I…”
Sionn patted her head. Eyes opening wide, Elona glanced back at him as he switched to scratching behind her ear. After a belated moment, Elona realized he was trying to offer comfort. Despite the severity of the conversation, in spite of the awkward tangle of a hug they were in, Elona had to bite the inside of her cheek to stifle laughter. He was doing what she had done, back when she’d thought him to be just a fox. Lifting one of her hands from his back, she rested it lightly on the top of his own. His fingers stilled, and Elona shifted. For a moment, she wasn’t sure what she was going to do. Acting on instinct, her hand moved of its own accord, moving his forward, and she found herself turning her cheek into his palm. The warmth of connection that immediately spread through her calmed her, banishing the remaining vestiges of her turbulent emotions.
“My friend.” It slipped through her murmured lips as she closed her eyes. “Both as a fox, and as you are now, you’ve managed to slip past my defenses.”
ns 15.158.61.8da2
