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I Awoke From a Dream of a Fox

SomethingSecret

SomethingSecret

Super-Earth
Joined
Sep 22, 2022
A burnt-orange and white fox darted before the knight Christoff through the familiar Aachen woods near the castle he called home. Small clouds of white plumed with each rapid kick of its feet, yet the creature did not seem to be fleeing, only moving with haste and purpose. Christoff's body felt strange; he looked at his hand for a moment, noting that it felt lighter than normal, as did his mail armor. He was close to feeling weightless entirely, until he stepped forward and the snow before him gave a familiar crunch beneath his boot. His sword was strapped in a familiar position on his belt, and a chilled wind reminded him of the feeling of his face. He watched the fox run forward, but eventually it stopped, turned, and looked back at the knight, its eyes expectant and calm. A brief moment of hesitation ended as Christoff began walking forward, which quickly became a jog through the powdery snow beneath. When he was close enough, the fox would run again, and Christoff would pursue. This continued for some time, until all memory of his home began to fade from him, and the air around him began to grow increasingly white, until he could no longer see trees, the sky, or even the snow itself.

Then, he felt a falling sensation. It lasted for some time; longer than he could measure, longer than any fall should take. Eventually, however, he would land in yet more snow, but with a thud and a painful reminder of his humanly senses, as the impact of his fall could be felt through the padding and mail. Most certainly hard enough to leave a bruise, he thought, but he hardly had time to think as the sounds of footsteps sprinting through snow and the piercing scream of a woman broke the final barrier of his stupor back to reality. He stood, not taking the time to brush the snow off his body as he saw what looked like soldiers chasing after a lone woman, swords and spears in hand, a few archers giving chase as well. Without thinking, Christoff broke into a sprint, details becoming clearer as he did so: unfamiliar trees, men in unfamiliar armor with unfamiliar swords and bows, and unfamiliar faces.

He didn't know what this was, but such a sight was a universal thing. The woman needed help, and he was the only one there with a sword willing to take up the endeavor. He drew his weapon and a kite shield as he ran, desperately hoping that he would be able to reach her in time. Yet it would be a moment before the armed men noticed him, as the chase continued for some time, the woman's fate uncertain for now... as well as his own.
 
The more he ran, the more his feet grew familiar with the ground again after breaking out of the trance of his dream. He realized he was someplace else now, although where, he didn't know, and he hardly had time to think about it as one of the archers shouted at him in a foreign language, yet its meaning was clear: he'd been spotted. The rest of the men except for one turned, eager to face their new adversary. Christoff readied himself, holding his shield at the ready as he moved to engage the warriors, who now were running at him, snow kicking up with each step and announcing their arrival.

The first man to arrive took a vicious swing at Christoff, who easily deflected the strike with his shield shortly before swiping at the man's neck over the top of the shield itself, who crumpled to the ground while clutching at his now-gushing neck, which immediately tainted the white snow with a pool crimson. The second man attempted to capitalize on his friend's weakness, catching Christoff out of position, but the knight caught his katana with his own arming sword, as the sound of clashing steel pierced the quiet of the forest around them. With his foe's blade occupied, Christoff thrusted the shield into the man's face, catching him off-guard long enough to slice off his hand, shortly stabbing him through his gut next, which sent the man to the ground, crying out in agony. Only two men remained now: an archer and the one still pursuing the woman. He began to give chase, but as he ran an arrow pierced his mail into his shield arm. Christoff cursed at the sudden pain, but continued running after the other two despite this.

He only hoped he could get to her in time; otherwise the blood which stained his hands would have all been for nothing...
 
Christoff was just about to arrive at the man scuffling with the woman, when he stopped dead in his tracks at the sight of the man bursting into flames from the woman touching his sword. It could have meant so many things, and though these men were hardly the type he would feel sorrow for upon their death, he couldn't help but feel an ounce of pity for the burning man in particular, who didn't make it too far before he too collapsed into the snow. With the rest of the men dead, the archer fled for his life, and Christoff was loathe to give chase on foot to such a man, especially when the woman had seemingly been badly injured by the scuffle. After all, she'd caught the bastard's sword with her bare hands!

"My good lady, are you—" he started to say, but stopped as he at last realized her true form. Fox ears, a tail, eyes that looked more animal than human: she was no woman. She was something else. Christoff took a step back, his heart pounding in his chest at the discovery, as well as the threat to his own life.

"God, what are you?" he asked. "Those men... why were they chasing you? Are you some sort of monster? You can't be human..."

In a moment, he caught himself as his eyes realized how badly cut her hands were from the sword. His shoulders dropped, his face growing more concerned than frightened.

"...Even so, if those men were after you, maybe you're not so dangerous..." he said, finishing his thought. "Those cuts look deep. I might be able to bandage them, if some of those men had any on them. If nothing else, I can at least take their tunic and tie them around the cuts to stop the bleeding. Just give me a second, okay?"

As he began to back away, he added: "And don't go anywhere; I just want to help you. I think you are the answer to my dreams..."
 
Christoff nodded at her threat; while he had no desire to die, and probably should have left well enough alone, it was clear he had landed in some foreign place through his dream, and the connection between the fox in the woods, and the fox-like woman in front of him now couldn't be a clearer sign to the knight that this was his destiny. So, he rushed back to the body of one of the men he'd slain, taking his sword and slicing off most of his garb, taking care to only lightly use the arm of his own which had been pierced by the arrow. In a moment, he returned to the fox-woman, noting the sanguine snow around her that was taking shape.

"Okay, hold your hands out. It's going to hurt, but I need to do this so you don't bleed to death," he said. Once she agreed, he took the cloth and wrapped it tightly around her hands, instantly staining the fabric with her blood. Even so, it would do wonders to staunch the bleeding, although they needed somewhere safe and warm for shelter.

"Now," Christoff said. "Is there a cave or something somewhere nearby? I need to remove this arrow and bandage the wound. And while we walk... why were those men chasing you? Is it just because of your appearance...?"
 
Her threats were hardly surprising; it wasn't much of a logical jump to think that if men were hunting her like this now, that they must have done it before as well. Perhaps many times, even.

"I wouldn't threaten you even if I did have such intentions," Christoff said. "I saw you torch that man alive... and I've no intention of being cooked like a chicken."

Her questions echoed many of his own, although she was more incredulous than he was at this point. He had a sour expression on his face for just a moment before resigning, beginning to walk towards the cave.

"Now hardly seems like the time to spare someone like you from such thoughts... but I had a dream I was chasing a fox through the woods of my homeland, Aachen. Last night, the dream came to me again, the third time in total, but this time I followed the fox. I ran for what seemed like hours... and then awoke here, in a land foreign to me, and you, a woman unknown to me. At least, you seem like a woman: you've certainly got more than a passing resemblance. But your ears, and tail... they look like those of a fox. I think you must be the answer to my dream, although I would have bared my sword for you regardless, for no woman should be hunted down as such by armed men." He said the last bit with a warm smile. "Even if she can incinerate them."

By the time he was finished talking, they had reached the cave mouth in question, which rested across a short clearing in the woods where a large stream ran through, its waters still flowing. Thankfully, a cave was a cave, and here would be a good place to rest, lick their wounds, and then move on, although their next destination was a mystery to him at this point. He turned and looked to the fox-woman again.

"I am called Christoff," he said. "I am a knight of His Lordship, Duke Frederick of Aachen, and for now, I am at your service."
 
As strange as it was to hear, Christoff wasn't surprised to hear that she was at least a few centuries old, as she was a being beyond his understanding at this point of time, and there were more than enough myths and legends in his own home of creatures which lived unnaturally long lives. It would also to some degree explain the magic that had transported him here in the first place. If the woman was a goddess, that would perhaps give her the power to do such, and yet if she possessed such power, a few soldiers wouldn't be enough to defeat her. He assumed then that something else was at work, although what, he had no idea as of yet. But he would follow his dream to whatever end, as that was what the heroes in the legends he'd heard his whole life did.

Aria was an easy enough name for him to remember. It was similar enough to those from his own country. Amaterasu, however, was quite the foreign word, and his mind would take some time to process it, notwithstanding that some other strange magic was allowing the two of them the ability to communicate in the first place.

"Those are fair questions," he answered. "Aachen is a city in my homeland, which I suspect must be far from here. As for the dreams..." he trailed off, taking a moment to help pile on wood for the fire pit Aria had hastily constructed. "The first one happened five years ago, while I was on campaign for His Majesty, the King. I could not answer the call, for I knew my sword was needed by my people. Then, a month ago, the dream returned; I chased the fox, but I could not catch it. Then, last night, the dream came again, and now I am here."

Her small acceptance was enough for him, and he hoped she might realize that he had no one he could trust at the moment either. "Thank you; I wondered if that fire you used earlier could be used to keep us warm. It seems like a very useful skill to have. A warrior is always keeping track of his skills, and how he can use them... and speaking of warriors... why do those men hunt you? Is it only for your appearance? In my home, sometimes innocent women are tied to a stake and burned for fear of witchcraft, yet I have always wondered how true that was that there could be so many witches near Aachen. I have never watched a witch-burning; I do not have the stomach to see an innocent woman put to the flame as such. Likewise, I could not bear to see you hunted by those men, even if you have the ears and tail of a fox..."
 
The fox-woman had many questions, and rightfully so: Christoff had dropped almost quite literally out of the sky, a man not only out of place but with a different face and name, befriending a woman who looked like she belonged in a storybook. But she was, however, very real, as was the blood which now stained his hands and his blade, and so too would he need to make real the details of his arrival. And yet, he heaved a sigh as she asked the nature of his dreams, for it was not something he felt he could share, even when it seemed like Aria might at last be the result of his dreams.

"I know not why I have appeared either," he said. "In my dreams, I only saw the fox: not a fox-woman as you are, but an orange fox running through the snow, weaving through tree and leafless brush. Last night, I decided to follow it, as I said. Alas, that is all I know. If I am the result of your prayers... then I must apologize, for I can understand why you might wish someone other than a knight would come to your aid. That said, it would seem today at least I was able to grant you a brief reprieve to your struggle."

There was more to it, of course, but nothing Christoff wished to share: the memory of ash, flame, and blood was still far too fresh on his mind, and though they were alone, it didn't seem right to him to tell Aria the prayers he himself had made in order to redeem himself of the failures which lingered on his burdened conscience like a weight far too heavy to bear upon one's shoulders. He gave Aria a half-smile, attempting to lift her spirits despite the nature of their circumstances.

"Aria," he said at last. "Were you not being pursued, where would you go? Or are you just on the run? Perhaps I might lend my sword-arm to your cause for a while. Actually, I must profess that I wish to do just that, quite greatly: I have been looking for a quest... and perhaps this is where fate has led me."
 
Though his demeanor shifted downcast at her new line of questioning, Christoff seated himself beside the fire, one hand propping him up while another rested atop an outstretched knee. His eyes watched the fire, unwavering as they recalled memories of the burning hamlet while he simultaneously resisted speaking too openly of that which occupied his mind.

"If you think me a mercenary, you need not fear such. I am not driven by pursuit of wealth, or power. In truth, failure is my master, and whips me every waking moment into doing something to be free of my conscience. If there is aught you should fear, it is that I will fail to protect you, as I have already failed others." He fought back tears, wiping his nose with his sleeve. "Ever since... that day... I have prayed for some way to redeem myself. I can only assume that you are the answer to my many nights spent in sorrow, the object of my quest. If there is anything I can do to assuage your fears... I will gladly do so. I would strip naked and freeze myself in that little stream outside this cave if that's what it took. I do hope you might have a less hazardous proof of sincerity for me to accomplish, however, as I can do little to protect you if I am dead of the cold. Yet I understand that you cannot trust me immediately, and so I ask that you give me time instead to prove my worth with my steel."

He nodded, giving her a hesitant smile.

"Perhaps that will not give you enough comfort to trust, but perhaps it will be enough that we may travel together for some time, as I too am a stranger in these lands, and also have a need for companionship at this time. I give you my word: I will not lay a finger upon any hair of your head, and I will protect you from any who find us..."

With that, he decided to stand again, remembering the arrow in his shoulder when he shifted.

"I need to dress this wound," he said, flicking his head towards the arrow in his shoulder. "I've heard that fire can heal such wounds. If you could aid me in this, I would be in your debt."

He started to remove his armor, gingerly laying it on the floor and looking to the fox-woman, wondering if she would help, or if he needed to dress it himself.
 
Christoff contemplated her words for a moment before speaking to her again, stroking his chin idly.

"Well..." he started. "I'm thankful you aren't making me take a dip in the stream! Thank heavens for that!" he said, chuckling. He looked into her eyes, sensing her suspicion beginning to decrease, replaced instead by what he thought was compassion, perhaps. "It may be painful, but I've no choice. Can't just leave an arrow in; I've seen a lot of men die that way. But you've taken wounds today as well, and a bandage was enough. I only accept if you truly mean to do so in order to heal me—otherwise, I've no interest, and can bandage myself. Men like me have taken enough already from someone like you, and in truth, I feel ashamed for having asked."

He sighed, shutting his eyes for a second before opening them again, looking at Aria briefly.

"I'm going to pull the arrow out. If you wish to help, then do so; otherwise, I will fasten a bandage."

He nodded, then turned to the wound for a second before taking off his tunic, revealing the chiseled physique beneath. He had a warrior's body, complete with cuts and scars and bruises among the rippling muscles, and removing the tunic revealed that much blood had dribbled down his arm from where the arrow had struck, the wound still oozing ever so slightly. He closed his eyes as he wrapped his other hand around the arrow, then exhaled deeply. With the start of an inhale, he at last tugged on the arrow, which came out with a sickening squelch, followed by a sharp cry from the knight.

"Gah!!"

Breathing heavily, he looked back to the kitsune as blood began to run down his arm. Through the pain, he said, "What's it going to be?"
 
Christoff's eyes flicked and focused on the kitsune as she began to approach. The intent in her eyes was unmistakable, and for better or worse, he knew she was about to do something. Yet he trusted in her, giving a simple nod as she at last knelt beside him, his eyes watching hers at first, then her hands as her outstretched palms formed the gesture that would cauterize the wound. Though the wound itself was relatively small, that didn't little to prepare Christoff for the impending agony of his searing flesh; as the magic worked to warp his flesh and close the wound, he clutched his knee so hard his knuckles turned white, eventually letting out a feral cry of pain until at last the magic had passed just as soon as it had come.

Breathing jaggedly, he turned to the kitsune and said: "Thank you..."

And yet, he sensed something was wrong: the woman could barely keep her eyes open it seemed, and though Christoff's understanding of magic was limited, he could still connect the dots enough to understand that she must have been exhausted from the effort. He imagined it must have been like swinging a sword—do it enough, and the sword-arm loses its strength, and purpose. Even so, to see her in such a state had him turn suddenly, his eyes scanning hers for some kind of answer as to her well-being.

"Aria, are you alright?" he asked. He then moved closer, pulling her up so that her upper torso could rest in his arms while she looked up at him. His strong arms cradled someone of her lithe stature easily, his gaze intense and penetrating. "Do you need a healer? I've enough strength yet to run through the snow if you need it..."
 
Cradling someone so much lighter than what his muscles could carry was a simple task, and as she gave no sign of resistance, Christoff pulled Aria closer into a more comfortable, half-sitting position where she could lean against his strong shoulder, it and his chest still bare from having removed his clothes to allow the cauterization.

He should have been more frightened of the fox ears that pressed against his skin, or the bushy tail draped over his leg, but in her current state Christoff could only feel a tenderness in his heart, and thanks for the wound she had so selflessly healed despite her own weakness.

"I won't let them take you," he said. "On my honor, as a knight. No harm will come to you so long as I still draw breath. I swear it. There is no magic like yours in a promise, but I give you this oath on fear of eternal punishment if I were to abandon you. That is the way of the knight..."

He nestled Aria closer, settling on a position that was easiest for him to keep her upright. Of course, he thought, an eternal punishment already awaited him... but perhaps he could make things right for this lonely creature, at least, who didn't seem so dissimilar from him at all now that he pondered their shared isolation by the fireside...
 
In the stillness of the cave by the flickering fire, Christoff noticed the subtle movements of the kitsune as she slowly reached for his hand, at first placing her palm over his. Impropriety was an intriguing subject to the knight as he held the lithe form of the fox-woman; in his culture, the act of cradling her as such alone would be cause for concern among the stuffy nobility he was beholden to, let alone doing so while he had removed his shirt. The tenderness of the moment suggested otherwise: a real connection between two wayward souls, clinging to one another for life in such an unforgiving land, yet the knight found himself nevertheless red in the face at her touch. His shame was complete when she clasped his hand with hers, their fingers interlaced.

"M-milady..." he stammered, looking away. "Is that proper...?"

And yet he felt foolish for expressing his embarrassment as such. This went beyond such trivial concerns. In a moment, he cleared his head, releasing a small sigh before turning back to her, his cheeks slowly returning to their original color.

"Trust in me," he said. "I will likewise trust in you... for it seems that all I have now in this strange new world is your company, and though it likely brings great risk to my person, I have cast my lot in with you, and not those who would hunt someone so delicate of form and innocent of spirit..."
 
At her requests, Christoff's answer was simple enough.

"As you wish," he said, looking into her grey eyes, seeing that she was at last giving in to the exhaustion she must have felt. He too began to grow tired, in part because of the events which had just transpired, the wound, as well as the sleepy look in Aria's eyes which entranced him. "I shall not leave your side, nor betray the trust you have given... Aria," he said, reminding himself not to call her by an honorific, as would have been expected of him in his homeland.

He could have lied down. It would have been easy enough to do so, and lay the fox-woman to rest atop some brush, yet he remained as still as a statue, continuing to cradle her, hanging his head where he sat as the fire continued to flicker before them, protecting them from the cold of the winter weather outside the cave. Though he slept soundly, throughout the night his head began to drift ever so slightly, making little difference at first, but eventually, his head would come to rest against Aria's, his nose pressed against one of her soft fox ears. His arms wrapped around her a little more tightly as he slept, too, for his dreams were not dreams, but nightmares of the ones whose trust he had betrayed previously, and a singular troubling vision of the failure which loomed now that he had pledged himself to the kitsune...
 
The night had blessedly passed with neither dream nor nightmare, an uncommon occurrence ever since that most fateful and terrible of days that had driven Christoff to where he was now. So he assumed, at least: there was a great chance that the gambler's dice had struck mad numbers in his mind, and the whole thing of men in strange armor and a woman with the ears and tail of a fox were nothing more than a vision. His hands began to disprove that notion: soft skin, soft fur both textures which served to anchor him beyond what his eyes could see, and what his mind could conjure. When she spoke, it was beyond the expectation of his wearied mind.

"My word is my bond," Christoff said. "And if my sword is untrue, I shall die upon it."

He shivered, suddenly. Their fire was little more than faint embers by now, and after all of it he was still shirtless, providing a strange sensation of a warm front, but an almost frozen back. He laughed a little, smiling warmly as he asked: "I don't suppose you could light a fire? It's positively freezing in here..."
 
Christoff was nothing if not inquisitive as the kitsune left his grasp, finding himself pondering the type of situation she was in, and the situation he had therefore pledged himself to.

"Have humans really changed so much in a few centuries?" He asked. "In my homeland, men have always fought and killed each other over what they thought was right. Sometimes it wasn't even about who was right, only who was stronger and could take from others. As a knight it was... is my duty to protect the people of the land, and serve the king. Yet I know if my king saw an opportunity, I too would march to war and my blade would yet add to the suffering in this world. Such is simply the way of things..."

He stood, beginning to help Aria gather the wood. She was thin it seemed, almost a wisp of a woman, but he wondered how much that had to do with how often she ate and if she would have a fuller figure with a more consistent diet. He felt strangely large compared to her, a bear of a man, and wondered if that would make it more difficult for her to trust him. Even so, he watched with eyes wide open as Aria lit the fire with nothing but her hands, as heat returned to the cave again.

"Your magic is impressive," he said. "It would do any man good to fear you for it, for there are few terrors in this world greater than a hateful flame. Aria..." he asked, scratching his head. "If your people were so powerful, then why have they been hunted? Why have you not fought back, or if you have, then how have you lost? Such power... surely man alone could not undo it..."
 
The more Christoff listened, the more his heart broke for the fox-eared woman. He knew firsthand the dangers of superstition among humans from the many 'witch' burnings that took place in his homeland, and talk about how humans befriended and betrayed the kitsunes particularly dismayed him, as it made perfect sense why such powerful beings could only be brought low by deception and betrayal. She much reminded him of, well, a fox, which his own people often hunted only for the sport of collecting their fur, under pretenses of defending their livestock, especially chickens. Foxes were trapped in horrible metal machinations, often left for days in a horrid device before the trapper would come to collect. Even so, foxes were foxes; Aria was a living, thinking being not so different from a human woman. Yet these unimaginable cruelties had been inflicted upon her nonetheless.

"I of course would be willing to lend you my aid," he said. "I only wonder if so many people are so far gone. I have met you and I can tell you have a good heart, for despite what humans have done to you, you have trusted me this far. Is there no way to convince the people of this land to worship the fox goddesses again? Surely nothing has been done at this point that we could not convince at least some that you are worthy of existence, not extermination..."

He warmed his hands by the fire, looking up at Aria somewhat expectantly.

"What is it you wish, then? Or rather, what shall we do, Lady Aria?"
 
Christoff nodded softly at each new tragic revelation the kitsune spoke, slipping his beige tunic back on while she continued telling her story. If she only knew, he thought, of his failures and the full weight of his guilty conscience, she would not be so eager to trust him. In truth, giving her his oath felt like a sweet lie, one he was telling more for his own sake than for hers. But she didn't need to know that. He could tell from the small smiles and growing confidence that his every moment here was causing hope to gain purchase in her wearied heart, and for that he would continue his little lie for as long as it suited her.

"Yours is truly a tale most grim and heartbreaking. I'm... nearly moved to tears hearing it. But for the request you have made, of course I will follow you. If not for your protection, then because I think you are the one from my dreams, and therefore you must be my destiny here. I can think of no other reason why I was sent here to this strange land through a dream itself..."

Suddenly, he took her hand in his, swiftly but gently, minding the bandages from the day before. His own hands felt suddenly rough and coarse from the callouses earned from years of combat in his lifetime, but his eyes reflected a gentle light.

"I will follow you to the mountain. I will follow you beyond. I will not leave your side until your task is done, or you wish me away. I swear it on my very life. If I can but ease a moment of your pain... then I would risk any danger. I would do so gladly. The fire is lit; let us find something to eat, and together we shall reclaim your power..."
 
Aria's insistence that her life no longer carried any weight, meaning, and that she had no destiny, caused Christoff to stir slightly where he stood, but he made no note of it in what he spoke next, nor did he press her about it. After all, how could she know that he was carrying a similar pain? He reflected that he must have sounded similarly dour in his own defeatism, though Aria had yet to taste the full extent of his grief. The fact that their mission was dangerous only drew Christoff to it like a moth to flame, for was suicide in battle not the most honorable death a knight could strive for?

"Very well; if you wish to hunt, I won't stop you. I don't think there's anything particularly strange about me, and deer or rabbit sounds excellent, if you can find enough of it for the both of us. As for what is fair and just... I agree to your deal. I'll help you to the mountain, and you'll help me go home again."

He didn't think he would go home, though. He didn't want to go home. Here, in this strange new land, he could begin again; no longer was he Christoff the failure, but Christoff, the gallant knight who had saved the life of a fox goddess. And in his new quest, he could forget the old pains he carried in his heart, even as she began to remind him of the most abject part of that which had led him into this state of grief in the first place. Even so, he sat down, and waited for Aria to return with the hunt so that their journey could truly begin.
 
Christoff nodded in response to the kitsune's assertions about hunting. "Aye, I don't pretend a knight might outfox the fox, nor the hunter you most assuredly are. I shall wait here patiently, hoping for your return."

While she was gone, he pondered to himself for many moments about the situation he was in: the dream must have been an image of the gateway between his lands and hers, he thought. But there were many other questions left unanswered: where was here? Was he even in the same time anymore? Would he ever find his way home again? These questions nagged at him as he stoked the fire, ignoring the hunger in his stomach while he tried to decipher what it all must have meant, and if there was any hope of getting out of this strange place. If there was any hope, he thought, it must have been with the fox-woman, who blessedly returned before he could think too much longer on such things.

"My, you look more the fox than ever at present," he said, laughing softly at her frosting of snow and the red that ran down her mouth. He unsheathed a knife upon his belt at her request, standing to go and aid her with the skinning of the deer, a time-consuming and exhausting process they had no choice but to pursue.

"Rest, if you need it," he said. "I am strong of heart for the time being and stout of body, and it is no trouble to prepare this carcass for us. Please, I insist!"

Then, he continued his knife-work, diligently removing the skin from the muscle until at last the deer, which now hung from the cave's mouth, was naught but the tender meat they both desperately craved by now. He took a cloth from his gear, setting it down and beginning to carve portions for eating.

"Alas, that we could only save more for the road, and had time to salt the meat! This will have to do, though," he said, carrying over the large collection of meat and placing the bits and filets on the rocks surrounding the fire, listening as they gave a satisfying sizzle upon touching the stones.

"I'll return shortly. Just need to clean my hands," he said. Shortly, he walked out of the cave to the small stream just beyond the cave's mouth, examining his surroundings as he leaned down, rinsing the blood and grime from his hands in the stream, diligently picking and removing anything that could be considered offensive.

As he did so, however, he couldn't help but shake the feeling he was being watched...
 
As he finished rinsing his hands off in the stream, he took a look around while he was crouched, scanning for any kind of movement or activity. After a moment, seeing nothing, he began to head back to the cave, turning back to look one last time, shivering as he felt the cold on his wet hands. After that, he hustled back to the warmth of the fire, and the warm company of his uneasy companion.

"By God, it's cold," Christoff said, eagerly putting his hands near the flames to warm them back up again. "I hate to suggest it, but perhaps we could visit a town and gather supplies? No, that wouldn't work, would it... Well, we'll come up with something, I'm sure. First, let's eat!"

Christoff looked to the bits of meat on the stones by the fire, which by now were sizzling and releasing a delicious, savory aroma. "Just needs a bit of salt, though I doubt you have any," he said, chuckling softly. "How do you typically eat, Aria? If you're like a fox... do you even cook your meals, normally? If you've never had a bit of roast venison, I think you're in for a bit of a treat!"
 
"I suppose it wouldn't make sense for you to pack salt if you could just eat the meat as it came in the deer," Christoff said. "Just like you wouldn't need to carry tinder and flint if you can start a fire with your hands. What I find more curious... is that you are alone, after all this time. And I get the impression that that isn't just because your people have been hunted... no, I suspect kitsunes like to stay alone, much like foxes, which would make a great deal of sense. If I'm off the mark, please tell me though."

He gathered a few other stones to use as makeshift plates, gingerly removing the venison from the heat and handing Aria one of the pieces of roast venison on the rock. He did the same for a piece himself, his mouth watering as he took in the rich scent of the deer filet. Without waiting, he blew on it several times before finally digging in to the steak, tearing off a bit and chewing ravenously.

"Ahh, that really hits the spot, especially on a cold day like today," he said. "Had we a pot, I'd make a good stew out of it, too. Something else we'll need to get in a town, I suppose. But yes, we tend not to eat anything raw. It's a quick way to get sick. Everything at least needs a good boil in a pot, but it's a lot tastier when you can roast it. What do you think, Aria?"
 
Though Aria was sharing the rather sad tale of her people, Christoff was too hungry to simply stop eating, at least initially, wolfing down the rest of the first bit of venison and sheepishly licking his fingers as she relayed once again the sentiment that her people were relics of a bygone age and that she was more or less a sole survivor of the ordeal. In truth, it was a grave situation and it weighed heavily on his heart to see someone such as herself suffering as such, yet it still seemed strange to him that they would be persecuted for having different ears and a tail, but still looking human. That was to say, he'd seen good men defend women with far less virtue and who were far less appealing to the eye, and Christoff began to suspect that there was more at work to this story, but he could only guess as to what might be hiding beneath the surface with the tale of why the kitsunes were disappearing.

Even so, he watched with dismay as Aria put down her venison, nodding. He did not speak at first, instead looking to her again with a slight smile, and then quickly scooted over to where Aria was sitting. He pulled her close from the side, allowing her to get comfortable against his chest as his arms easily supported the rest of her small weight.

"There, there," he said. "You must be carrying a great burden indeed if you won't even eat a bounty such as this. I think food is one of the great universal joys of life; even in the bitter cold, even in the depths of sorrow, there is a happiness that can be found by savoring something full of flavor, like this venison. Time has not been kind to your people, it seems, but time can also mend a broken heart. The trick is to allow it to do so. Take a load off for a while, Aria, and while I'd prefer for you to eat so that you can gather your strength..."

He looked down at her, really noticing for the first time the enchanting beauty she was possessed of: eyes which glittered in the firelight, the long, silky hair and the slim curves of her body, all of which caused him to suddenly turn a little red in his cheeks, then turn his gaze back to the fire instead. After all, she thought very little of humans and it wouldn't do if she knew he thought she was so beautiful.

"I understand eating is not an easy thing. Nothing is anymore, for you, it seems. Let me carry some of that weight..."
 
"Mm..." Christoff said, thinking of her question. "Nothing quite like a kitsune, no. Fire-breathing lizards, yes. But no fox-women, that I'm aware of."

His attempt to lighten the situation was met by Aria's wounded heart, though it gladdened him to see she was at least attempting to eat again, which he watched with a gentle curiosity. When she spoke again, though, it was clear she yet had pain she could not overcome.

"Well... I am a knight, Aria. My life is spent in service to others. That is, the sword I carry is meant to protect others. For my king, and for the people. Now that I have neither, I must instead protect you. I would feel... without purpose, if I did not. Especially if you were to be hurt when I could have stopped it..."

At this, he unintentionally clutched her in his arms, remembering the pains of that which he had lost before.

"Anyway... No, I have not met another fox-woman before. Or anyone but other humans. I wish I could give you a pleasant lie that would ease your heart, but alas, I am all that I am and nothing more: just another human. But one who has heard your plight, and wishes to help, if you'll let me. That is all. Now..."

He looked back to the fire, including the other pieces of venison which were cooking.

"We'll need supplies if we're going to travel to your shrine. Winter is unkind to unprepared travelers. We should make for the nearest town... I'm sure we can manage a disguise for each of us, find some way to get what we need... then we can fulfill our task. What do you say?"
 
Christoff couldn't help but smile as Aria declared her oath. "I will hold you to your word," he said. "You would make a fine knight, I think!"

At her suggestion, however, he was left thinking of their encounter yesterday and how exhausted she had been from using the flames.

"I do not know how your magic works," he said. "But it may be better to conserve your strength for when it is needed. And you are still healing as well..."

He looked down at her, noting that she was laying her head upon his shoulder. There was a soft comfort to it, knowing that in so short a time he had managed to win the kitsune's trust, at least enough that she did not fear him as much as she had when they had first met. All that remained was for him to stay true to his word and guide her back to the shrine of her people, whatever winding way they would need to take to get there.

"I know you must want to use your magic. But let me tell you a tale. When I was learning to use a sword, I would always swing with the full strength of my arm. After minutes, I would be tired from the effort, and did nothing to my opponent. It was then my teacher taught me that if I used less effort... that if I let the sword cut, and only guided the blade to the impact... that I could swing my sword for hours, instead of minutes. And he was right. My arm grew stronger, but it was the technique that made me skilled. And so it is: the art of swordsmanship is not using one's strength... no, not at all. The art of swordsmanship, is restraint. We should not disguise ourselves unless necessary. Or fight unless we must. We should find another way to disguise ourselves. Such as..."

He reached behind his neck, pulling up the hood of his cloak, which mostly obscured his face except for the narrow angle from the front.

"A hood," he said. "I don't have a spare, but... I could at least hide my face, and that way you must only disguise one of us, instead of both. Surely that would be easier, right?"
 
It warmed Christoff's heart to see that Aria had decided to eat again; he thought back to another of his master's teachings, about how a sword was for war, but good words were for the home. It seemed that lesson had proved worthwhile indeed, for at least one soul in the world. He was also touched by the sincerity of her words and the way she seemed to genuinely want to protect him as well. It was an uncommon sentiment among the women of his land, to say the least, for a man was to protect a woman, not the other way around, and while Aria was technically a kitsune, it was nonetheless a strange situation he found himself in. Even so, despite the peculiarity, he found himself smiling as warmly as the fire at her as she devoured a great deal of the meat in front of them, as well as giving her promise.

"A bard? Now there's a thought," he said, teasingly, as he slowly removed himself from the cave floor while Aria ate, standing and brushing himself off. "I could play my instrument, and my enemies would come and listen, instead of trying to strike me down. A better idea that must be than crossing swords with anyone. I think we shall have plenty of time for stories along the road, though. If we are to make it to a town, we should leave as quickly as possible so that we are not stranded in the cold without shelter. It would seem the cold kills here just as much as it does back in the Empire, so we should make haste..."

He looked at her more sternly as she mentioned fighting, and her solemn oath to protect him. A knight's oath was a knight's oath regardless of who made it, even when it came from the mouth of a fox-woman. "Very well," he said, nodding. "I shall hold you to your oath, as the first knight-sister I have ever known. I think you will bring your people much honor indeed... Now, let's get going, while we still have daylight..."
 
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