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Maria was running, running as fast as she could, stumbling with every step as her bare feet hit the hard, stony ground, the heat of it burning her skin. She heard sounds echoing around her, screams and yells and animalistic roars and shrieks and horrible laughter that seemed to come from behind her and before her and to her left and then her right and then it was spinning around her, encircling her, trapping her. She could feel burning heat on her skin and heard the crackling of fire as it burned to life around her. She covered her face with her hands as best as she could but kept running. She couldn’t stop running. She couldn’t stop running. She couldn’t stop running.
People chased after her; she heard their pants and shouts and cries for blood and she could feel them breathing on her neck as she ran faster, her feet burning underneath her, her dress getting caught up in her legs and she stumbled and fell and felt the people behind her catching up, reaching her, but she somehow managed to get up and keep running. There was no breeze, there was no sun-
Then the sounds stopped.
The burning under her feet stopped. The crackling of fire stopped. The people chasing her stopped. She ran until she stopped too. There was no noise, no whisper around her. She couldn’t even hear her own breaths, couldn’t hear her feet move against whatever ground she stood on. She could feel her chest rising and falling rapidly with fear and exertion but she couldn’t hear her pants. There was no one. No living thing here.
“Hello?” she called out quietly.
Her voice went out into the air, quiet and thin, and faded with no reply.
There was no breeze but she was cold, shivering, her hands running over the goosebumps that covered her skin, her feet going numb with the chill. She felt like she would never be warm again. There was no one here, she had no idea where she was or where anyone was, her mother was gone, her caravan was gone, her family was gone, she was alone and lost and with no one beside her-
Someone grabbed her arms and she screamed, fear filling her like never before-
15-year-old Maria would have woken up with a strangled gasp, one hand twisting the sheet that covered her while the other fumbled blindly for her wooden staff. She would have sat in the bed, her pants filling the night air, straining her ears to hear and her heart beating fast until the quiet footsteps approached her room and the mother of the village family who had taken her in ask quietly if she was okay and if she would like a glass of water.
21-year-old Maria woke up with a gasp, her hand already holding tight to the old wooden staff like it was a lifeline, a way to ground her back into reality. She lay very still, eyes open, conscious of her breathing, hearing the soft whistle of the breeze as it cut through the leaves of the forest and brushed up the dead foliage that lay on the ground around her. An owl hooted, far away. A possum or some other small creature rustled in the trees.
Another small creature, much closer, gave a quiet yip and a smile crossed Maria’s face, her free hand reaching over, hovering in the air until she felt said creature move underneath, and her fingers caressed the long, coarse fur around its neck. She heard a small piping sort of sound that must have been the small creature’s yawn and she felt the fur brush over her hand and heard the very light, uneven patter of the creature’s paws as it trotted up to her, lying down beside her and curling its fluffy tail around her. She could hold it completely with one arm.
Letting the creature snuggle close to her, Maria gently brushed her hand over the body of the creature, feeling the rough bandaged she had wrapped around it. She wished that she could check the wound that the creature had when she found it, but the few medical supplies she had were packed away in the small bag she carried that she could feel behind her. Her body was too tired to get up but her mind was too scared to try going back to sleep just yet.
Instead, she let her hand run over the creature, feeling its outline and shape as she had been doing over the past two days, her fingers barely touching the animal’s fur as she brushed down its four legs, one of which ended abruptly in a stump. Something had happened to that forefoot, and quite some time ago given how the skin had healed over. What though, Maria was clueless.
Giving her mind something to do, she continued to trace the animal, forming a curve in her mind as best as she could, always caught a little off-guard by the large ears the creature seemed to possess. She had guessed that it was a fox of some kind, a small breed if she assumed that this animal wasn’t a pup. What type though she wasn’t sure, but she hoped to find someone who would know, someone who could hopefully help her with the cut the creature had in its side.
After the creature was healed, she would be able to take it back to where she had found it, and set it free to be with its own kind. In order to survive the few years it had been since it had lost its foot, the fox must have had a pack of sorts that had left it behind when it had been injured. Maria hoped that the pack would take the fox back.
Until then, she was content to feel the fox’s warmth against her chest and its coarse fur against her hand and sleeve as she laid her head back down on her rolled up cloak and closed her eyes, letting her hand run gently over the fox until she fell back asleep.
What Maria didn’t see – and what it took her a month or two to know – was that while she slept, the fox remained wide awake, his light-sensitive eyes peering through the dark, large dish-like ears flicking this way and that, catching every sound of the night. Constantly vigilant.
The rain poured down, bringing with it a sticky heaviness to the air and a strange sort of metallic smell. The cobbled streets became filled with puddles and water dripped from the eves that overhung doorways and windows. It was late afternoon, moving towards night, and most citizens had already sought shelter in their homes, leaving only a few outside to see the cloaked figure walk quickly into the village.
The cloak was brown and had seen some years of use, though it was of a good make and so not worn yet. The hood was drawn up to protect the head of the wearer, who also carried a staff that they held close to their body, trying to reduce the amount of water that soaked into the wood. Their other hand was hidden inside the cloak, carrying something that formed a lump on their chest. They had their head bent over to protect it.
A leatherworker had paused in his work to see the figure walking into the village, noting that their head was bent too low to be able to see where they were going. His wife (with her swollen belly) and his elderly mother were sitting in rocking chairs under the large ledge that stood out the front of the shop, enjoying the rain.
“Oh, look at that poor traveller in the rain,” his wife said, tilting her head. “He must have been travelling for a long time in this soaking rain, he must be exhausted.”
The leatherworker caught the glance his wife cast and him and sighed, but inwardly smiled. “Ho, traveller!” he called, projecting his voice through the rain. “Come pause here with us a while!”
The traveller haltered in their steps, turned their head towards the voice, then veered towards the leatherworker, walking slightly off-course to what the leatherworker expected but making it under cover nevertheless. The figure shivered slightly, the chill of the weather finally getting to them a little.
“Thank you,” a young female voice said underneath the cloak, her tone filled with a smile. “It is a little damp out there.”
The elderly lady chuckled. “A little?! It’s raining enough to flood the mountains again!”
The three could see a smile spread across the traveller’s face, who they now saw was indeed a young woman. She didn’t appear to have much on her other than her staff and a small bag that peeked out from under her cloak.
“What brought you to our village?” the wife asked politely, standing up to brush the water off of the lady’s wet cloak.
“I was just passing through, I hoped to find a place to stay for a few nights,” the lady admitted, flinching away a little at the touch of the wife but settling when she realised what the older was doing.
“Ah, you’d be wanting the inn for that,” the leatherworker said quickly, before his wife could suggest that the lady stay here (he loved the open heart of his wife, but the house was crowded enough with three people and a goat). “It’s down the road, you must have missed it on your way in.”
“Oh, bother,” the lady said with a sigh, as if missing things was a common occurrence for her. But just then, the bundle under her arm quivered and rustled all over and gave a sneeze and the lady clumsily flicked back her cloak as best as she could with her staff resting on her shoulder, revealing the sand-coloured fox underneath. “Oh I’m sorry, are you cold?” she asked the fox.
The elderly woman gave an “Oooo!” and rose from her rocking chair. “A strange fellow you have there,” she said, waddling up to the traveller and holding out a wrinkled finger to the fox. “Hello my small friend, where did you come from?”
“I found him a few days ago,” the traveller said. “He’s injured his side, but I’m not fully sure how badly.” She gave a small laugh. “I’m not even sure what he is!”
“Oh, I can help with that. May I?” The old lady reached out her hands and after a moment, the traveller reached her arm out a little and the older gently lifted the fox from her grasp, noting the long ears, the sandy fur, the small paws, the bushy tail, the sleepy eyes and sharp teeth that it displayed when it yawned. “I’d say this is a fennec you’ve found, a fennec fox. Curious, finding them this far from the desert sands but I guess you always have stragglers.” She gently flipped the fox upside down. “Ah, a male you’ve found. Very protective, the males are, a good travelling companion if you can cope with their boundless energy.”
“How do you know he’s male?” the traveller asked curiously.
The elder chuckled. “How do you know anything male dearie?”
The young lady frowned in confusion, then realised and flushed a little. “Oh, I see. I guess it’s a little hard to me to check.”
“Oh, it’s never really that hard if you know where to look,” the older woman said, handing back the fox, but she searched the young lady’s face as she did so and must have found something, for she gave a sigh of realisation and said “No, I understand what you mean. What’s your name dear?”
“Maria,” the traveller said. “And yours?” She lifted her head towards the leatherworker and his wife to include them in her question.
The three responded with their names and the wife, noting her husband’s growing discomfort, said “We’d better let you get to the inn, no doubt you’re ready for a warm fire and a good meal. Will you need help finding your way?”
Before Maria could respond, the old lady did, waving one of her hands in the air and saying “I’ll walk her there, no need to worry, you wait there dearie, I’ll just fetch my coat” as she waddled into the house, her voice drifting out in a constant stream of conversation. “Left my coat, where did I put it, on the back of the chair of course, you always leave things where you can find them which is why you never clean up!”
She came back out with her coat and reached for the hand of Maria that was once again holding her staff, grabbing gently onto the wrist. “This way, Maria dear, I’ll make sure you don’t miss it.”
Maria quickly called a goodbye to the leatherworker and his wife and followed the grasp and the wet, splashing steps of the lady as she guided her down the street, occasionally veering left or right with a small cry of “Oops, mind that puddle there dear” or “Ah, that’s a deep hole, wonder when they’ll ever fix it”. Maria felt the constant rain cease once more and instead drum on what sounded like steel above her head. She felt the grip of the old lady on her wrist slacken.
“Now then, are you okay from here on your own or would you like me to accompany you inside as well? I know the barkeep quite well.”
Maria gave a smile. “No, I can make my way from here, but thank you very much.”
“Ah, it’s no problem dearie.” She felt the old lady pat her wrist. “Us blind folk must stick together, ey?”
“You’re blind as well?” Maria asked in confusion.
“Not yet, not yet, but just wait a few years! Blind as a bat I will be, blind as a bat! Cheerio dear! If you want any help with your little fennec there, you just come asking for the leatherworker’s mother, they’ll know where to find me, I’ll tell you anything you want to know, good with animals I am, lived among them for years!”
The voice of the lady sang through the rain as her footsteps splashed back out into the open and Maria took a breath, leaning her staff against her shoulder as she pushed back the sodden hood of her cloak, made sure the small fox was safe in her arms, found the door to the inn, and headed inside.