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Phil sat alone in the middle of the woods, he had stopped to set up camp a few hours ago. He was in a clearing staring up at the sky while he waited for the food that he had stuck over the fire to cook. An only slightly ripped hunter's tent pitched behind him. It had been something that he’s had for a long time though he usually never used it.
Usually, he would find shelter under a cave or in the trees, it wasn’t worth the risk to pitch out in the open. He had been on his way to a village but something happened on the way so he figured it would be best to stay the night in the woods and grab what he needed from the village in the morning. Phil made sure he let Wilbur know before he left that he might not be home until the next day and set off.
So here he was, sitting with his cloak drawn tightly around his shoulders. The wind blew his hair in front of his face and he considered trying to find a different area as anxiety settled in the pit of his stomach.
While there weren’t a lot of hunters that patrolled these woods, there was always that chance that someone would be there. Phil’s sword laid on the ground next to him, the blade reflecting the flames from the fire. It wouldn’t have been his first time encountering a hunter if one did end up appearing.
He’d survived this long, he wouldn’t let a hunter take him down like that. Not an Elytrian as old as him.
Meat was a rare thing for them to eat. With Tommy unable to eat it they usually didn’t have much. Tommy’s garden supplies most of the food. Though Wilbur occasionally went with Phil hunting and the two of them could come back with something to pick on for a bit. Phil had caught a lucky rabbit earlier that day and was able to comfortably cook it. He figured that Tommy would pout if he found out about that. The kid was very strict about killing animals. He didn’t like it.
Phil’s wings twitched, pushing against the fabric of his cloak as he heard something rustling in the bushes behind him. It didn’t sound like just the wind, someone was there.
His hand moved, covering the hilt of his sword as he turned. It was probably just an animal, it seemed too light to be a hunter or a human. But Phil was on edge anyway.
The meat on the fire was starting to burn so Phil quickly pulled it away, setting it on a piece of paper on the grass for it to cool off some.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a figure dart out of the bushes towards his bag of supplies. A bushy tail swishing back and forth as they attempted to dart back into the forest. Phil lurched forward, grabbing the figure by the back of the shirt.
They stumbled back with a loud wheeze, a knife and a book clutched tightly in their paws. The large hat they wore knocked off of their head and settled against the floor while they kicked and squirmed in Phil’s grasp.
“Who are you?” Phil asked sternly, gripping tighter.
“Oi! Oi! Let me go, Let go of me!” They swore loudly, voice rising in pitch. They dropped the book and knife and tried to swat at Phil with sharp claws. Phil held them up by the collar of the shirt, their feet barely scraping against the ground. The orange tail lashed back and forth and fluffy white ears were pinned against their head.
“What are you doing here?” Phil turned the figure around, not expecting to be met with a long white muzzle and a pair of beady black eyes staring at him. Orange fur covering his skin and fluffing up as the wind blew around them. A fox hybrid, Phil realized. A surprisingly big one at that matter, usually they didn’t grow much larger than four feet tall but he seemed to be a bit larger than that.
“Get your filthy paws off me,” the fox man spat, he kicked at Phil, “dirty hunter!”
Phil stood up straight, unclasping his cloak and letting it drop to the floor while the fox man stared with his eyes narrowed and his hands clutching his shirt so the fabric didn’t choke him.
Phil spread his wings behind his back, the dark feathers casting a shadow over the two of them. A small frown pulled down the corners of his lips and the fox man went practically limp in his grasp. A small whimper escaped his throat, his eyes wide.
“Aye mate… nice weather it is out here?” the man muttered, his voice cracking, “we can… we can talk about this…”
Phil dropped him, and before he could scramble away caught his wrists, grabbing a piece of rope from his bag that had been upturned and the contents spilling out. He had no intentions of doing harm to this hybrid but didn’t want him to dart off with any of Phil’s things either.
“Hungry?” Phil asked, turning away from the man for a second, watching him out of the corner of his eyes. He grabbed the cooked rabbit from where he had it cooling.
“Nay.”
“Suit yourself,” Phil sat down next to him, his wings spread slightly. He bit down on the meat, a loud silence filling the clearing apart from the creaking of the trees and the popping of embers in the fire.
“You gonna… gonna flay me like that rabbit there?” The man asked, curling his paws around the grass, his tail whipping back and forth, “eat me? Skin me for a coat? That what you Elytrian’s do to people that disrespect ya?”
Phil hummed an ambiguous answer, “maybe others of my kind would. What’s your name?”
“Fundy…”
“Well, Fundy. What’s a fox like you doing out here stealing from harmless campers?” Phil asked, tilting his head to the side. He nudged Fundy with one of his wings and the man flinched.
“Thought yous was a hunter,” Fundy nodded to the tent, then to the cloak still on the ground, “you’ve got the seal ‘n everything. Could’ve gotten some good loot from you if you were.”
“You steal from hunters?”
Fundy nodded, baring his teeth, “of course. You gonna turn me in for it? Could get yourself a hefty reward if you did.”
“I’m not gonna turn you in, just wanted to talk,” Phil said, smiling softly.
“What’s the ropes for?” Fundy held up his hands, bound together with a rope, “y’know I could assume a man like you would like this kind of stuff but I assure you I’m not.”
If Phil was flustered by that statement, he didn’t show it.
“Didn’t want you running away on me,” Phil said, “I’ll untie you if you promise not to bolt.”
“Would you really trust my word on that?”
“Sure.”
“Then you got no common sense,” Fundy slouched in on himself, “I ain’t gonna run.”
Phil reached out, untying the ropes and letting them fall into a pile on the grass. Fundy rubbed his wrists and, as promised, didn’t move from where he was sitting. Phil cut off a piece of the rabbit and handed it to him.
“Told you I don’t want none.”
“Take this as kindness from a stranger,” Phil shrugged, “I think we started off on a misunderstanding.”
Fundy stared at Phil for a long while, before he snatched the offered piece of meat from Phil’s hands. Hunching over the piece as he nibbled on it.
“Isn’t it a polite thing to give your name after I gave mine?” Fundy questioned, looking at Phil out of the corner of his eye.
“Right, I’m Phil.”
“Aye, heard of a Phil around these parts a few days ago,” Fundy said, “must be a common name as of late.”
“You’ve heard of me?” Phil furrowed his eyebrows, worry eating at his stomach.
“You sure you ain’t gonna just turn me in for ransom, you’ve got yourself a convincing disguise there.”
“I won’t.”
“S’pose that makes me the fool now to trust that,” Fundy scratched at his ears, grabbing his hat from the ground.
“I haven’t hurt you yet have I?” Phil asked, “and that disguise has been practiced for years.”
“How old’s a fella like you?”
“It’s rude to ask someone’s age you know,” Phil chuckled and leaned back on his hand, tucking his wings behind his back, “I’ve lost count at least a few thousand years ago.”
“You don’t see Elytrian’s in these parts much,” Fundy pulled his coat around himself, “though yous kind would’ve gone extinct by now.”
“Ah… I don’t think many leave the end anymore. I haven’t seen anyone else in so long,” Phil stared up at the sky, almost wistfully, “so how have you heard of me?”
“Haven’t heard of you. I’ve heard of someone nearby with the same name. I don’t think you would meet the description.”
“What’s the description?”
Fundy was silent for a while, he stared at the fire, then back at Phil. He seemed to be thinking.
“I’ll confide in you for a second, sir,” Fundy spread his paws and Phil nodded for him to continue, “met an Enderling ‘round these parts the other day—”
“An Enderian?” Phil asked, swallowing thickly. He hadn’t meant to interrupt but it just slipped out.
“Yessir, was a lovely lad,” Fundy nodded, rubbing his chin, his tongue peeking out between his teeth, “small for his kind, didn’t take kindly to me calling him a child. Couldn’t help myself though, he reminded me so much of my own pup.”
“You have a child?” Phil asked and Fundy’s expression turned sour. He wrinkled his nose.
“Aye, had a child,” Fundy muttered, his voice cracking, “my pup ain’t here no more. The lad I met had the same kindness and wonder my boy had. He liked my chalks, I don’t think he’s ever seen them before. Poor Enderling has seen some things though, had his fair share of bad experiences.”
“I’m sorry about your son,” Phil put his hand on Fundy’s knee. Fundy shrugged, rubbing at his eyes.
“No matter about that,” Fundy shook his head, “he’s been gone a few summers now… The Enderian boy I talked to spoke of a Phil, I assumed that was his papa.”
Phil’s heart clenched and he could feel the pain of the fox hybrid in front of him. Losing a child is some of the worst pain in the world. Phil knows what that feels like.
“Was his name Ranboo? The Enderian?” Phil asked, tilting his head forward. Ranboo must’ve gotten the chalk from this man.
“Aye, got his place marked on my map so we know where to find each other,” Fundy nodded, pulling a pink stained map. He pointed at a circle drawn in one of the fields between the forests near the lake. The location of their floating island, “You’ve met him?”
“Well,” Phil rubbed at the back of his neck, “Ranboo is my boy, I suppose.”
Fundy seemed surprised at that statement, his eyes widened, “you’re his pa?”
“It’s a bit of a long story,” Phil waved his hand dismissively, “Found him at a village, things went from there.”
Fundy sighed and nodded, “You seem like a good pa. Didn’t think Elytrian’s raised their kids.”
“Not sure,” Phil stretched his legs out in front of himself, “I never did have the typical upbringing.”
“Mysterious.”
“I had a human mom. Not biological but uh, she raised me,” Phil admitted, “I don’t remember much before that.”
“Ah, that explains it,” Fundy muttered and when Phil looked at him confusedly Fundy continued, “the last Elytrian I met years ago wasn’t near as kind as you.”
Fundy pulled up his shirt and turned around, a long scar ran down his back in a group of three. Immediately recognizable as talon marks.
“Other Elytrian don’t take kindly to company,” Phil shrugged, he hadn’t known very many other Elytrian and had heard from a few stories that they tended to spent time in solitude.
“And yet you’ve adopted a son?”
“Four of them,” Phil chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck.
“Ah, got yourself a busy household then.”
Phil nodded.
“I only had one boy,” Fundy whispered, “he was the sweetest child you’ve ever met. Cried when he stepped on a bug. He was my little pup.”
“What happened to him?” Phil kept his tone soft, open for Fundy to deny the question if he wanted to.
“Hunters,” Fundy clenched his jaw, baring his teeth, “Got his Mam too. Wandered into a trap and grabbed the both of em. Skinned em for pelts.”
Fundy sniffled and rubbed his eyes, his ears drooped.
“The hunters’ll pay for what they took from me, but I ain’t no strong hybrid like you and your boy,” Fundy muttered, “I’d take more if I could, the lot of them too spoiled to have ever felt the pain of the of having something you loved ripped from them. They live their prejudiced lives and stuff themselves full of meat and bread while we sit here minding our own business, getting killed for just existing.”
Fundy pulled at strands of grass. Phil wrapped one wing around him, pulling Fundy a bit closer. Fundy deflated, his anger leaving him like a flame put out with water.
“Y’know, when I was younger it wasn’t like this,” Phil said quietly, “there were no hunters, and humans were the rare ones.”
“Sounds nice, old man,” Fundy sniffled again, rubbing at his face.
“It was. You didn’t have to run or hide or worry about someone seeing you and killing you. The most you had to worry about was pissing off your neighbor or breaking the law,” Phil explained half excitedly while Fundy listened with wide eyes, “I pity my kin who never get to see this side of the world. Most don’t leave the End at all.”
“Sounds boring,” Fundy said.
“Probably is, I don’t remember the end. I was too young and it was too long ago.”
“Maybe in another few lives it won’t be so bad, maybe the hunters will be gone,” Fundy sighed, “maybe in another life I’ll see my pup again.”
“I think you two will meet again someday,” Phil said, “fate can be cruel like that, but in another life perhaps.”
Fundy shrugged, he stared up at the sky, “I best be going, it’s not safe to stay in one place for too long.”
“Yeah, I know,” Phil moved away from where Fundy was sitting and the fox man stood up. His clothes were wrinkled and he had stains on his shirt.
“Say Hi to your boy for me, Ranboo’s a good kid, lucky to have a Pa like you. I’d like to see him again,” Fundy tipped his hat, his ears twitching, “until we meet again, Phil.”
“Yeah, until then,” Phil nodded towards him.
Fundy adjusted the bag on his shoulders and darted back through the bushes, his tail swishing back and forth as he ran.
Phil watched the bushes where he had disappeared into for a few seconds before he turned back to the fire. His rabbit meat had gone cold by now. Phil wrapped it up for later and put out the fire, crawling into the rundown tent to fall asleep for the night.