Chapter Text
A sharp clatter, a flick of her ears.
Wide, gold eyes widened, pupils narrowed to slits.
This was her chance. His back was turned, looking between metal crates and narrow fissures. Ha. As if she was an amateur.
One more step, the scent of hesitance, of not-ready-overbalanced.
And then she struck.
“Hiyah!”
The man coughed at the contact, green eyes widening as he let out a dramatic gasp, falling to his knees under the not so heavy weight of a scrawny child. “I’ve been hit!”
A triumphant woop escaped the little bandit as she grasped the man tightly, a toothy grin on her face.
He groaned, running a hand over his face and clutching at his chest with the hand not securing the little menace’s leg over his shoulder. “Whatever shall I do? The mighty warrior herself has bested me!”
A huff and the upturn of a freckled nose. “You are bested. Now you hand over all the treasures!”
A sigh, and the exchange of a clinking fabric pouch that was eagerly grabbed in two small hands.
Between one blink and the next, the bounty had been unraveled, and a gleeful yip sounded in the alleyway.
A few feet away soft huff sounded, a woman shaking her head as she took in the scene with amusement in her golden eyes. “A fox, really Erik?”
The man in question shrugged helplessly, a wry grin on his face as he held his squirming daughter who was cradling the stuffed Fox to her chest and touching its upturned ears, as if comparing them to her own pair that twitched atop her unruly auburn hair. She held it as if it really were the treasure they had been treating it as, and in the smog, ammonia scented alleyways of the Lanes, he supposed it was.
“Come now, Aria, you can’t deny the resemblance.” He held up the writhing girl from under her arms, suppressing a laugh at the annoyed huff she gave, one that was nearly identical to her mothers, as her ears pinned to the top of her head and her tail curled around her short legs.
Before the woman could respond, a glimmer in her golden eyes, the words died on her lips, overtaken by a sudden, hoarse cough.
Erik’s easy smile slipped off near instantly as he gently set their daughter down and came to Aria’s side, rubbing the woman’s back gently as she coughed into the worn handkerchief.
It was times like these Erik loathed himself for forcing them here. Vastaya, with their burning connection with nature and their soft, flitting ears and sensitive noses were not meant for the harsh, sour streets of Pilltovers undercity. The journey from Ionia to here had been a necessary one, but he couldn’t help but hate himself every time Aria winced at the booming sounds of infrastructure in the streets, or had to lie down for hours after being out in the smog filled streets for just an hour.
He prayed things would be different for little Ren. Little, bright, darling Ren and her wide golden eyes and her tooth gapped smile. Maybe growing up in this filth would provide her some immunity. Maybe by some miracle, she would become resistant.
Yet as he watched a cough build in Aria’s throat, he couldn’t help but think they might have to find another solution.
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Ren stood at the doorway, clutching her stuffed toy to her chest in confusion as her father wailed at her mother’s bedside. The light from the window didn’t paint the room gold like their old home did, instead it painted over her father with a sharp, too bright green. Her heart started thudding loudly in her chest when her ears twitched and she realized with a start she couldn’t hear her breaths.
The girl stumbled past the threshold, throwing herself at the bed and clutching at whatever part of her mother she could reach frantically.
“Mama?” Her voice broke as she put her head to her mother’s chest, her still, still chest, and begged her twitching ears to pick up the thrum of her heart.
A desperate keen escaped her throat as she felt her fathers arms shakily move her away from her mother, her still, still, quiet, quiet mother.
“Papa-- she-- she needs help-- Papa!” Ren wailed, thrashing in his arms as her breaths quickened, ears hearing the caw of birds outside, the thuds of boots on cobblestone, the shaky breaths of her father, but not her mothers heart.
Hands turned her into her fathers chest as she cried shakily.
The next few nights passed in a blur.
Ren and her father stayed tangled together on the small, worn-out mattress, her father’s arms wrapped around her as if he could shield her from the world. She could smell her mother’s body in the next room, the scent growing stronger, more pungent, but her father never moved her. He barely moved at all. He just held Ren, his tears soaking into her hair, his body trembling with silent sobs.
Eventually, hunger drove Ren from the bed. She stumbled through the streets, her legs shaky, her arms weak, searching for anything to eat. She returned with scraps, enough to keep them alive, but her father never touched them. He stayed by the bed, his eyes hollow, his face gaunt.
And then, one day, Ren returned to find him lying beside her mother, his hand resting on hers, his eyes closed. She called out to him, her voice shaking, her heart pounding in her chest. But he didn’t respond. He was still, just like her mother.
Ren stood there, her small frame trembling, her golden eyes wide and filled with tears. She clutched her stuffed fox to her chest, her ears drooping, her tail curling around her legs. She was alone.
The streets of Zaun were harsh, unforgiving. But Ren had no choice. She had to survive. She had to keep moving, keep fighting, keep living. For her mother. For her father. For herself.
She took a deep breath, her eyes hardening, her small hands tightening around her stuffed fox. She wasn’t done yet.
Not by a long shot.