Tails and Tales of a Foxes' Fellowship
"No, Fern– quit it with the scarf already!" Ciel cast a harsh glare down upon me, narrowed eyes marked his distaste for the subject. My wide ears bowed and my head sank beneath the icy stare. I struggled to find my voice for an apology, stumbling repeatedly on scattered words, then falling into silence beside him.
Ciel craned his head upward, his eyes closed lightly, and each tail dragged limply as we marched up the windy slope. Time passed while he grimaced, grumbling quietly to himself as though retreading memories equally pleasant and distressing, searching for the right words to say, "Look... There's a lot of history behind this. It's a memento to simpler times, of all that I've done, and for better or worse. I wouldn't know where to begin. Once this trip of ours is settled, I'll tell you about it then, alright? There are some pieces I'm still not accustomed to..." His words were burdened by an uncharacteristic melancholy, and I felt guilty for prying.
"Sorry. I didn't mean anything by it." I muttered sheepishly, worry rooted my gaze to the ground, and my tail slumped sullenly behind.
But my thoughts persisted, that tattered silver scarf was at odds with his appearances. Its original white color had been tarnished by age and wear. Carved by innumerable tears and cuts which scarred it thoroughly from end to end; one edge had been uncleanly severed, and tassels on the remaining side were frayed– if not torn off outright.
"Don't look so glum now, I can be just as curious sometimes..." Ciel's voice plucked me from my musing, his tails flicked playfully and the words were reassuring, yet his downcast demeanor had not at all changed.
I gave a quiet nod in return, idly glancing up and down the path. It was early in the afternoon by my guess. Darkened, overcast clouds concealed all corners of the sky and hushed the sun itself, but mercifully did not signal coming rain. The hills we climbed on rolled endlessly through the wilds, carved only by the lonesome road that cut through the carpet of high, olivine grass swaying against the harsh winds, bearing force enough to ruffle our fur and topple me to the floor– more than once.
Ciel sat down upon one of the higher hilltops, clearing his voice and speaking over the disquiet that hung around us,
"How about I lighten the mood, Fern?"
He did not wait for an answer however, already ducking away and sifting through his pack. A gleam of mischief shone in his smile when he withdrew. Clutched carefully in his jaw was a seed, of those which had appeared wrapped tightly in its fiery sheath of amber.
"Just watch this!" Ciel said through his teeth.
His fang struck the center, and the shell resounded with a crack between his canines. A suspenseful moment followed before Ciel spit it forward. Flying in an arc through the open air, the seed seemed to shudder with light, hissing coming from—
BANG
My thoughts were left unfinished, I'd reflexively leapt backwards with a flustered yelp! I felt my face burn red with embarrassment beneath its fluff. Stumbling to the ground in shock, I landed onto my back against Ciel's thick tails. The explosion had rang like a gunshot to these newly sensitive ears– I never expected to bear such piercing noises again, not so soon! Peering up from the position on my back, my expression of fright was met by Ciel's giggling. I felt conflicted between interest and fear, did he really have a satchel full of bombs? Was that considered normal?
"...What d-di-id y-you—"
"It's a blast seed!" Ciel interrupted proudly, the prior melancholy had already vanished from his tone, "It always cheers me up, want to try one?"
I was still collecting my thoughts, and astonishment clouded my judgement, "H-Huh? No I-I– m-ma-maybe i-if– why do you have so many of those? Where did you get them?" Curiosity commanded my words.
Ciel looked almost confused by the choice of question, "Well I buy them, silly, and I'm sure you're able to imagine the uses besides!" His bright smile was deeply concerning in the context of explosives, "Ohh don't worry about it! I'll show you how to use them another day. Besides, there's still a ways to go from here." He wrested his tails free from beneath me, swiping away the collected dust. Ciel grabbed me by the scruff as he had before; lifting me from the dirt, and setting me upright– though I still found myself humbled by the act, I lacked the will to argue with him.
By the evening, our time in the open had come to a gradual end, the windswept range was slowly repopulated by ancient trees twisting in all directions.
The roads we traveled were unkempt, more alike to densely wooded hiking trails, winding unsteadily through the hills and dells and valleys. Serpentine vines interlaced with grasping roots, together writhing underfoot on the trampled, leafy passages. I trodded carefully between them, while Ciel stepped along quickly and with grace. He was at home in these conditions, yet seemed to hold back at my pace. The forest was silent, if not for the paws disturbing the leaves below, and our own voices filling the void. With the absence of other travelers, civilization felt far further off than the map wanted me to believe.
Further down, a crooked post split the path into opposing directions, wobbly signs clung in a column, carved in the foreign script which labeled each road, though staring at the rows of symbols still felt dreamlike in its nonsense. Ciel nudged me one way, and we followed the narrow trail branching off. Up the gentle slope, the forest cleared away, and stone formations rose up into view.
Roughly hewn stones were placed together like a low, rounded wall. Piled around into an atoll between the sea of grass surrounding the water. Clambering atop the drab gray barrier, warm steam tingled at my nose wherever I passed. Below, the water was tinged orange, reflecting back the bedrock's citrine shade. Ciel refrained from approaching, content to stand along the rim beside me– I offered a timid smile, meeting him at eye level for the first time.
Ciel glanced hesitantly around the glade, then spoke, "Can you take care of yourself for a few minutes? I just need to get the rest of my things together– nothing too long!" He had already begun slipping into the thicket once he finished his request, not waiting for an answer. I assumed myself alone once again.
I'd never been to a hot spring before, and Ciel had seemed reluctant to approach the water, were they dangerous? I slumped down from the wall, sitting at the water's edge, raising a hand to test it— instead I caught myself staring at the clear reflection for what felt like ages. Dread I'd felt in my first conscious moments struck back like thorns, twisting my expression with despair. I felt like I'd lost something, forgotten something important... Fresh tears clouded my sight, and disturbed the image on the surface where they fell.
...There's no going back, is there? A blank slate– with all that it entailed.
But that's that, I couldn't change what was, and I shouldn't drown in vague emotions. I had Ciel, there were others, and I was still myself in spirit! Relaxing with a sigh, I leaned in and warily slapped a paw through the pond, to my relief it felt identical to a hot bath. Sliding down from the rocky shore, I slipped and stumbled forward with a splash. This time I had a grip on swimming, and floating in the warm spring water set my outburst at ease. The steam practically hid the world outside, while the hot current welling from the dark depths tickled where it rose around me.
"Mmm... Today's only visitor... But what would Ciel be doing back...?"
The lumbering voice was accompanied by a silhouette in the haze, clearing away as I meandered across. A carnelian tortoise sat comfortably on the far edge of the spring, its gray shell idly puffed smoke into the cloud hanging over the scene. His appearance was mundane beside Ciel's, yet I felt no less bewildered– having clung to the misguided belief that I might still see a human proper.
That turtle drooped his head curiously before me, "How odd... I don't see new faces often anymore... You would be the first I've met of your kind, though quite smaller than I'd heard of them to be! What's your name?"
"Fern, but my kind mister? You mean a human?" I stared at him, too tired or distracted to recognize the slip of either party.
"Zorua, a pale z– oh?" His head rose back, brow furrowed. "Hmm... You wouldn't be the first actually." The tortoise seemed a bit disappointed by the answer, "I apologize, my name is Torkoal. What brings you here?"
"Ciel and I are going to Capim, but there was something he said he needed to do here..." I shook my head, "You mentioned him by name, would you happen to know?"
Torkoal nodded back, "I do of course, but if he hasn't spoken of it, it isn't my place to tell. Ciel means well, in spite of his... faults."
"Come on, I'm not that bad! But sorry if I kept you waiting." Ciel had been peeking over the wall for some time, his fur blended into the very mist itself. There was a hint of nervousness behind the warmth present on his face, though oddly his paws were coated by dirt,
"We're in a bit of a hurry to get to town so—"
The turtle tilted his head at Ciel and interrupted him, "Would you two have time to stay? I'm sure there's a story in how you were turned back from that journey of yours!" He lowered his voice, frowning, "More importantly... The road to Capim is dangerous as of recent, I'd hate to see you off unprepared. Less visitors have been by, though that delivery Linoone is a friendly, if strange fellow, even letters being sent are fewer in number..."
Ciel appeared apprehensive, but I didn't have it in my heart to decline. The sun was bent low now, its glow fading into dusk, and the old turtle looked lonely,
"It'll be fine, right?" The day's weariness tinged my voice, and it only now began to occur to me how long we'd traveled without rest– if I could do this now, maybe I had more reason to stay hopeful than I'd thought. Ciel remained silent, offering only a slow nod in concession. I paddled to the shore with the others, pulling free from the water's comfort and shaking dry as before.
Torkoal's tone grew jolly and loud, "Well, come along you two!" He said, marching off while humming to a tune. He was faster than I'd imagined a tortoise was capable of, and the both of us trodded behind.
"Sorry Fern, I meant to get you there as soon as possible... But I suppose it'll have to wait for tomorrow." Ciel sighed after he spoke, and his discomfort eased, though I wondered what could have bothered him?
Just out of sight from the spring, a stone house stood nestled amongst flora, reminiscent of the peaceful countrysides I'd long remembered. Cobbles of mismatched forms and colors composed the crooked structure, wrapped by jade strands of ivy that twisted lazily between the rocks, around the darker tufts of moss that clung in fuzzy patchworks.
We stepped in line through its tall doorway, designed as if to receive guests that dwarfed even Ciel– and I shuddered to imagine myself beside them. Wandering inside, we were met by the homely setting. Drying flowers and forgotten accessories were strung from supporting pillars to brighten the moody room. The elder was fond of visitors, and his keepsakes of all sorts– colorful ribbons, curious wands, glimmering orbs, and glittering trinkets on display drew my constant attention. Embers glowed from a pit tucked beneath the blackened western wall, and the untended coals warmed the air.
The old turtle guided us to the carved stump of a table on the opposing side, offering all manners of hospitality as he walked. Specifics passed over me while I struggled to climb into a chair; giggling like a child, clawing his way up a wooden colossus. Though the others sat comfortably on the floor– I felt flustered seeing them on the other side, knowing that I had to fight to meet their height.
My hind legs pressed against the seat, and fore upon the table, just barely able to peer over the top. Letters, papers, books, and things laid disorganized on its surface, their details difficult to discern in the last light of twilight. Soon, only the scattered glow of candles would stay to illuminate the night. Busy inquisitively spying the oddities and trinkets, I only loosely heard Ciel's words in the background,
"...But if we're staying now, what did you mean to talk about?"
The tortoise cleared his voice and grinned, his tone grew deeper once more, "I've heard plenty about your adventures and misadventures Ciel. You know me as a storyteller, and an odd case like your Fern would be interesting to listen to."
"O-Odd? You me-mean..." Being mentioned by name startled me from the idle daydream, my thoughts unfocused– I never handled being the subject of conversation too well.
He attentively turned to me, "A human before, a zorua now. Surely you're familiar with what you were, and what you are?"
...But I didn't have a response, I didn't know. Nerves set me trembling, I teared up for the second time today. Was there something I dreaded to recall? What would even be appropriate to say? I had my own blurry history, but even then, what I did in the past didn't matter anymore! Not to mention my grip on reality had been lost in translation somewhere in the gap.
I lowered my head against the table, and my ears followed suit. My miserable expression repeated what it told Ciel in the past, "N-No... I do-don't know. I'm sorry."
The old turtle struggled to hide his concern over the unnatural reaction, "Ahh... But you're not hopeless are you? I can guess why Ciel would see you to Capim..." He shook his head, swatting away the disturbed expression, "Still, let your worries be eased while you stay. You are a guest of mine, and we have time for questions, for songs, and for stories not least of all."
The offer was promising; learning had become something of a comfort in the dark, and I nodded gladly at the suggestion. While Ciel had already lain his head against the tabletop, positioned to keep himself comfortable and attentive for the long night he must be anticipating, though he still eyed me with worry.
The tortoise's confident words bespoke prior rehearsal, having long spun those tales for hundreds before us, and to dozens stranger still. His stories hopped often between script and song, and I tried earnestly to follow along. He told stories starring creatures of all size and shape, of secrets still unsolved, of histories from far flung continents, and of their unusual denizens.
In the past I might have felt embarrassed to sit and listen like this, but today was different... I picked up a bad habit that night, after I offered a poor piece to his show:
"The path is wound forever on~
With weary feet we wander on,
Over hill and mountain heights
Under rainy days and starry nights
To see a lost trail or shining stone
Known and treasured by we alone
Stream and dell, field and fell,
Pass it by, fare it well~"
Time dragged on long after, the festive air turned dreary and the night grew weary, a sense of stillness draped the room now. Ciel looked nearly asleep, as if our amateur melody had been a lullaby. I sat and dwelled on what I'd pieced together: The wider world was described to me in broad strokes, but I still knew more about it than of myself in these times. His fantastical, albeit limited, accounts of zoruas gave me cause for joy– and a gnawing fear. The magic of mimicry struck me with wonder, even though the how of it was absent from his speech, I couldn't help but keep excited.
...Yet, being branded as 'ghosts' and 'spirits' made my heart sink to remember. Did that mean what I imagined? Had I died? Was that the terror clouding my thoughts early in the night?
But that couldn't be right! I sunk down against the table and I rubbed my paws to my head in thought. I had no recollection of the day before I'd arrived, but that doesn't have to mean the worst!
"I don't understand what I'm doing here..." My thoughts spilled into words, and I spoke uneasily to myself.
"As do I wonder, Fern." Torkoal heard my rambling clearly, and spoke sternly, "So have all before us, but circumstances are not for us to choose. All you can decide is what to do with the opportunity afforded to you." There was a silence following those words, and I looked up at him confused, uncertain if we were even on the same page. The elder nodded blankly, and turned away, stepping down the hall without further comment as though it were the end of a performance.
Ciel watched him leave through bleary eyes, "It's always nice... But I feel wrong to rely too much on his kindness." He lowered his head to the floor with a yawn, nestling against his overlapped paws. Prepared to sleep right there, "Down here, Fern." He said with a tired smile.
My thoughts were still elsewhere, and I'd unconsciously nodded in compliance. Climbing down from my seat, I stumbled over and slumped to the floor beside him. His tails swept forward, lain over and under me as a loose blanket. There was a chill behind their immediate touch, yet not painfully so– I grew comfortable there beneath them, and under the safety of a guardian. I had been given a lot to think about, the overload of information would keep me awake a bit longer.
Though I was certain he didn't have the same idea in mind, Torkoal was right. It didn't matter how I got here, did it? I needed to make the most of it now that I was, and pointless speculation would only serve to hinder my spirit.
But even the most innocent and innocuous of the natives had mirrored childish fairy tales and myths, curiosity burned at the notion– just what had I been caught in?
I rose early that morning, though evidently not first. It was only just after first light, where the sun bent behind the distant mountains. Yet Ciel had already carried us back to the main trail. A meek smile crept over my face, and I'd surrendered to his antics, I suppose it was nice to be carried.
"But It's still too early Ciel..." I yawned.
I heard his muffled chuckle, and was set gently onto the ground. After steadying back onto my feet, I quietly stared up at him for a while. Taking the time to fully process the morning, before the foggy thoughts I gathered stumbled out as questions,
"So did you say bye for me? Do you think we'll get there today? When did—"
"Yes, yes. We'll be there in the evening if all goes well~" Ciel replied in his lively tone.
"Didn't he tell us the road was dangerous? Did you ask before...?"
"Yes of co– well n-no... I-I forgot about that– started too early to speak about anything, I left a note! We'll make it though, I promise!" He was sure of his words, at least outwardly.
But I bought his confidence, I had faith in Ciel by now, and the previous day reignited my curiosity for what could be. I was ready to start the day, and hoped to keep the mood light for both our sakes. With a coy glance at Ciel, I sung another meek melody from memory~