Summer.
Complacent. Charming. Gullible. Lounging under the boughs of an oak sapling and reading a book is little Tomas Blith. He and his family live in the village of Sokein, which benefits greatly from its proximity to the domineering Manor Radiant. Others, too, enjoy the soft sun. Meters away is Tomas' cousin, Lillia Hin, who is fishing in the wide, green pond for minnows. They are mice. Despite this, they live a happy life. Summertime is their favorite season, as there is far less nighttime to worry about. These children are not the only ones playing about, however. Little do their foolish little heads know that a danger lurks in the bush nearby. I watch with eyes sharp, ears perked. The wind is slow, and oozes and ebbs from the sky in short, contented breezes.
I am a fox. I have lived entirely on my own since my ill-fated, orphan birth. It has been a cruel world, but I have been crueler. The children are devoured quickly. I try to be as humane as possible, and that actually lends itself to efficiency. There's where I earned my name: in, and out again before the screams draw in village guard. No need for dalliance. I pick up my real prize and vacate.
Something in me — which I swiftly suppress: no use for it, really — cries out in sympathy for the poor creatures. They are slight, and give little nutrients to one like myself. All for the plan, I reassure myself. Then I slap myself for playing the fool. Were life simple and kind, perhaps so too could I be. Peace is a myth, however, so I jauntily hop down to the meadow in which I have laid my trap. See, the people of Sokein live in a little burrow under a rocky outcropping. I'm not so sure where it is, since I haven't gotten close enough to see any entrances. Simply charging in would cost me my life: the occupants of the Manor Radiant have a weapon like you wouldn't believe. I've seen firsthand. So a play must be derived by bait…
Tom Blith hangs loose from my maw, unconscious but not dead. Gripping him with ginger teeth, I set the young mouse down in the field. The grass is soft. He will sleep for an hour yet. Tom, upon waking, will most likely try to run. I will show him the inconsequence of trying. Then, I will threaten him with the consequence of disobeying. Ah. Should have brought two… anyhow, after he wakes, my plot will be as simply undertaken as he has been. In, and out again before the Manor knights can catch me. I have about a half-mile's leeway from Sokein to the Manor, which perhaps gives me thirty minutes. Enough for some light reading.
"Wh-" says the boy, starting groggily, "what's going on?" He looks around, dazed and astonished, before his eyes fall on me. He screams, but we are far enough away that no one can hear him, and I inform him of such. He looks left, right, grappling with his present — and might I add quite unfortunate — reality, before running. I don't blame him. They nearly always run. Something in their nature. Screaming and pinned by my claws to a tree root, he pleads for his life: shallow, wealthy, and all-too-short.
"Now… Tomas is it? Tomas! Let us stop the whining. It gets us nowhere," I grin, "Please, you have yet to hear me out." To his credit, the tears have only been an involuntary trickle, not outright sobs. He was trained well, I guess. His father, the mayor, will be happy to have him back. I considered, initially, a ransom deal. But that heist wasn't as inventive as this one, nor as fun! Tom, likely taught that the best way to get out of a situation with a fox was to cooperate, shuts up.
"Good, good! You're a intellectual cookie, y'know. I just have the slightest thing I need you to do. Agreed? Oh of course: you'll want to know what first, silly me! Ha ha! All I need from you is…" I retract the claw pinning him to the ground, and begin to pace around him as he struggles to stand. Likely due to his shot nerves. I wonder how that will play to my advantage. "Oh, you are nervous, so nervous. Care for some tea? No?"
"G-get to the point, fox."
Defiance. Hm. That won't do.
I shrug, raising my paws in defense of myself, "I only wish to be an apt host, little mouse. Now harken. All I need is a tiny favor. You'll go to Sokein and tell your father to arrange a biiiig funeral vigil for all of your deceased peers. Ideally, centralized in your burrow." Tom starts. He didn't realize they were dead. He shakes and I continue, " — yes, tragic, really. That's all, as a matter of fact. I feel bad, genuinely contrite, for the damage I've caused. But that's just Nature's order, I guess. You'll take some money with you to indemnify the cost. The whole village ought to be there!"
I chuckle in the semblance of mirth. This line seems to be working. Add heat to a metal, it hardens. I'll see what'll happen to a mouse. Tomas looks up at me, opening and closing his mouth several times. The tears are back, flooding his beady eyes. Again, the idiot part of my genius brain protests involuntarily. "You've killed all of my friends?"
"Mm," I lick my lips.
"You — you're a monster. I would never help you, scoundrel!"
Nodding, I extend my claws again. "Yes, that's fair I suppose."
He shudders, but stands firm. "Do your worst, fox."
"Ahh!" I mock. I smile again, enjoying this. Drawing my finger in a slow motion across my palm, I eye him and suddenly spring to advance. Tomas takes a step backwards. Again he flails, tripping on the root of a tree. He scrambles to a run, and I let him get a ways away. But, inevitably, it is over quickly. This time, he is in my maw, praying to some mouse god to free him. I shake him around a few times, flinging him to the cusp of a nearby pond as carefully as possible. I rush over, planting a paw on the back of his head and half-submerging him. After a few seconds, I pull him back out and drop him. No dying on me, Tommy. Face to the mud, the mayor's son coughs up water and struggles to stand. Half way through he gives up.
Now's that's an incredibly well executed intimidation. If I'd had a mother, she probably would've told me not to play with my food. Ha!
"You drive a haaard bargain! I'll spare your family, Tomas. How about that?" The ploy is jagged, obvious, crude. He knew this was coming. He was probably instructed in political negotiation by some tutors from the Manor Radiant. Even though the mayor is low-ranking compared to anyone there, he and his family are entitled to rather special benefits. If my instincts are right, however, this little one will break. After all, he is only a child: feeble minded, and susceptible to false promises.
"Y-you won't, a-anyway. You'll kill — " he coughs, failing to suppress sputtering sobs, "you'll kill them all."
I shrug. "No, not really. What's five mice in five hundred? Why would I, after all, if you'd be so kind as to fulfil my request? At that point, we've become nearly symbiotic! Not that you have much choice anyway. You'd only be making their death quicker, eh? Better sly, speedy me than the slow, inevitable Owl?"
"You're sick," he says, relenting. I can see it in his body. He's mine.
I grab from my burrow — yes, my burrow: stealing it doesn't make it less mine — a sack of grain. Currency to these mice. It is small for me, but not easily carried by the young lad. He'll manage. His small, speckled grey-black form struggles under the weight. I look on, bemused.
"How will I," he exerts, "explain my escape to the rest?"
"Simple! You'll just say that I brought you back here but the Eagle attacked me and drove me away." The Eagle was the lord of this tract of land. He ruled from the Manor Radiant, and hunted folks like me out of the area. That's why these mice could afford such peace. Though, their allegiance to the Eagle came at a steep cost.
The boy's sadness has turn to derision. Some other hatchling emotion stirs in his eyes, one that I do not recognize. Contempt, perhaps? After collecting himself, he looks back at me, scoffing. "They won't believe it, fox."
"Slip," I correct.
"Wh — "
"Tch, tch," I click disapprovingly, dutifully instructing the youth, "My name, Tomas. Really, they haven't taught you the slightest bit of manners. You refuse my company, my tea, and now fail — "
He begins walking off in the middle of my soliloquy. I decide it wouldn't be dangerous to cow him a little, so I follow his trudging trek home for sport, circling around in mocking spirals. Tom sees nothing but a terror; he fears a demon of red and white fire prodding him with pitchforked-tongue. "To address your host by name! Really, I've been nothing but polite. I even gave you a bath. Manners," I continue, puffing my chest in a grandiose gesture, "are redolent of maturity. Without them, there's not much proof of it at all. Indubitably."
I continue in this strain for another meter or so. He says nothing. Locked within his own hatred of me and of himself, he's too mentally busy to protest. The world has been cruel to this boy. Oh little mouse, if only there were another way. I sigh, and with a final bow, let him alone to his journey home. No need to risk it all for a few more psychic jabs. I've nothing much left to do, though. I don't return to my burrow. That would be idiotic. Tomas may yet sell me out. No, he's far too terrified. But one must always keep safe; instead, I go to the road leading on to the Manor Radiant and wait for nightfall. No one will escape Sokein on my watch. In the fading light of day, I pace impatiently. This must go perfectly. I have considered all the variables. Starvation looms over my head like blackmail. I will not fail. I have made riskier plays before, haven't I? Self-doubt is a poor man's cope. I'm an apex predator, damnit.
Lady Night comes on little vixen paws, creeping over top of the world in a sensual dance to overtake the day. The light, cast in the cloudless sky as a blue-to-orange ombré, slowly recedes into utter black. Summer dies pitifully slowly, a false phoenix fading into the ashy Autumn. The last, dying shimmer of day is reflected in the pond nearby the Burrow. Good riddance. While I haven't been able to pinpoint the exact entrance to Tomas' village, I have seen the rough area. Now, with the whole town in mourning, the path is clear. I scout around the rocky field the hole is expected to be in, and find it quickly. This is my moment.
In, and out.
Sokein lies open before me. I dig viciously, charging in; my mouth and claws are primed for slaughter. There they all are, in dark hooded robes, leading a procession in honor of their dead children. I take some solace in the fact that they'll be reunited soon. I rip the head from one of the enshrouded rodents, viscously disconnecting the spine in one deft jerk. But the feeling is not as satisfying as usual. In a blur, I kill another, gulping him up in a single movement. Another falls, and another is ripped apart. I am quick, efficient, and… and… hungry. I leap from mouse to mouse, all in a convenient line. They do not scatter. Why? In a primal temper, I erupt to hasten the murder and get at the others who have most likely fled. Where is Tomas? I will keep my word, but I'd absolutely love to gloat over him one last time. The long trail of grieving mice extends —
Wait.
I am not bloodied by their deaths. Something is wrong. I reassess, only to make the horrific realization that they are not mice at all. They are little figurines of red wax, hay, and wood. Scarecrows clad in mourning garb. I have been duped! Surely not I… No. No!
The whole burrow, which I am halfway through, suddenly seems like a death trap. That bastard betrayed me! Where are they? The Manor Radiant. Somehow, they've gotten there. Tunnels? Of course, underground tunnels interlinking the two. The Eagle is no doubt soon to be flying over, and his troops must be marching on Sokein now. I curse myself for my ignorance. I must escape. I jolt for the entrance, only to find it is covered in mud and dirt and stones. The mice have made an effort. No matter, I will dig out. I run back to the center of town and begin my ascent. I cannot come out near the entrances, that would be a premature death sentence.
I dig in haste up, up, up. Through layers of dirt and, eventually, wet topsoil. I smile wildly, laughing in triumph. Ha! Their farmland. I'll be far enough away to escape to the forest. I may have failed, but there's never shame in —
Water floods the escape tunnel I've dug. It fills my smiling mouth and forces me back down. The whole tunnel begins collapsing under its weight. I barely escape back into Sokein with my lungs and body intact. I cough, breathing again. Frantic now, I look for some other avenue of escape. The whole village is quickly filling with water. I have maybe a minute before I drown. I run to the entrance and try to dig again. But there is a large stone over it, and I hear muffled voices above. There is… there is nothing I can do.
The water fills to my neck. I take a last breath, before I am submerged under the murky liquid. A minnow floats by my snout as I close my eyes. This is how it ends? Life, so cold, ends in coldness only? No longer will I feel the warm summer sun upon my skin. Never again will I lay and watch the meadow go dim. The songbirds will never sing again for me. I will never take another breath of cool evening air. never again will I taste the sweet flavor of…
That's for the best, isn't it? I've been cruel, and circumstance is no excuse. No; it's a reason. Nature cannot be circumvented, eh? I open my eyes as the water fills my lungs. I'll face death head on. Life is a heist — In, and out. That's how it is. How it's always been. I was outsmarted this time. It's for the best. It's for the best. How many lives were saved by my death? If only I could have overcome it all. My senses are fading, but my mind is all too acute. In some poetic way, the water burns like the last dying embers of the season as it asphyxiates me.
Thrashing, I drown.
Groundwater
page revision: 8, last edited: 22 Jun 2024 18:38