I've been bad.

Not in that things I've done have been particularly awful, but specifically I mean I've been bad about writing and uploading. Really bad, and it's sucked. So I'm trying to rectify that right now and better my circumstances as an author in doing so. I've got things in the works that I'd like to spend time doing, but I'm all over the place this year and it's very hard to dedicate myself to my writing. Pushing past it is taxing me in ways I just generally can't handle presently.

But that doesn't mean I should just post nothing, and so I introduce you to a new little side story to the Blood and Water series titled From Humble Beginnings. In this three-part series, you'll have an opportunity to see Oswell at his most original state. Young, inexperienced and on the run, this is a chance to observe the magi before he became the character you know and… I want to say hate? In the Blood and Water series. Oswell's one of my favourite characters, so exploring this aspect of him has been a lot of fun. And since I've not put anything out in a while and I did have this mostly-finished piece just sitting here, I thought, “What the hell?"

So I hope you enjoy this first look into Oswell's past in Solace, and I hope you'll come back next week for part two. Be well!

 - Master Meridian

Blood
And Water: From Humble Beginnings

Solace

The floor was no more comfortable the sixth night Oswell had slept on
it, and morning came almost as a welcome reprieve.

The young fox sighed as he
stared up at the roof above him. It wasn't as bad as it could have been, of
course. He'd slept in the streets, much colder and more dangerous than any
home. He'd slept in barns, relatively comfortable so long as his presence wasn't
discovered. He'd been terrified the first time he'd scaled a tree to sleep in
what safety the boughs could provide him.

There was no heat that
issued from the fireplace nearby. The coals were cold, their light and heat
extinguished at some point during the night. Oswell tugged the quilt he'd been
given about himself all the tighter and thanked whatever gods were watching
that he even had that much. Perhaps he held the Mistress of Fate's favor after
all. He'd started to wonder.

A glance across the room
and through the window there afforded a view of a pre-dawn street still lit by
the glow of oil street lamps. The fox sighed and rubbed at his face with one
paw as the other kept the quilt wrapped about himself. Arhas was the largest
town he dared to remain in for any length of time, but the fox scowled at the
window nonetheless. The port town's guards like to patrol at night. It would
only take one aware soul to look through the window while the fireplace had
been lit, and…

Oswell sighed again and
forced the thought form his head. To dwell on that would do the fox no favors.
He looked around the room again as he reluctantly forced the quilt off his body
and stood. The cold air — though not as cold as outside, he noted as his waking
eyes focused enough to catch the fall of small snowflakes beyond the window —
set him right away to shivering.

If nothing else, the cold
gave Oswell enough impetus to dress quickly. The tunic he pulled on wasn't that
warm, but the thick pants and cloak he tugged over himself next helped to stall
out any more shivers. He rubbed at his arms before he pulled on boots and
gloves, and sighed once more as he pulled the cloak's hood over his head. The
trip to his benefactor's workplace was short, but in the middle of winter it
was more than Oswell wanted to chance. Gods knew he didn't want to catch a cold…
or be caught, for that matter..

As he dropped his arms back
to his side, the fox glanced down at one paw. He flexed his fingers within the
gloves there in an attempt to force more warmth into the digits, only for his
ears to perk at the sound of a slammed door elsewhere in the house. Oswell
whirled toward the nearest door as he straightened himself up. His benefactor
would expect him ready to go not a minute later than he himself was.

He only had to patiently
wait for another minute before the burly rabbit entered his sight. Taller than
the fox by a whole head, he was dressed in equally warm garb as he lifted a
lantern to shed light across Oswell. “You're up earlier than I thought," he
said with a smile. His voice practically boomed in the formerly-silent room.

Oswell forced a little
smile as he drew himself up a little taller. “I think I'm finally getting used
to waking up as early as you," he replied with a nod. The language, its words
still foreign on his tongue, came more slowly than the rabbit's. “We heading
out in a moment?"

The rabbit laughed and shook
his head. “I've worked you six days straight, fox. I reckon it's time you took
a day of rest. Besides, today's a special day for Talmarukans."

The fox tried to hide a
frown as he fought to think. Talmaruk was an odd kingdom. Their traditions and
ways were foreign to him — not to mention that quaint language he'd had to
learn over the last few months — which is what had made it such an enticing
place to hide out for so long. Try as he might though, Oswell couldn't bring to
mind any memory of what could have been so special about that day in
particular. “Special how?" he asked at last.

Again the rabbit smiled as
he stepped forward and wrapped one meaty arm around the teenage fox's
shoulders. “It's the anniversary of the Battle of Talencia, boy!" he boomed with
a grin. “I guess they don't teach you much history wherever you came from, huh?"

The fox just cleared his
throat and glanced back toward the window. He hoped the pang of pain hadn't
shown on his face. “My father had little time to teach me history, Soren," he
replied at last. “And my mother… well, you know how that turned out."

“Ah… yeah. Sorry, kid.
Forgot about all that for a second." Soren squeezed the fox gently before he
pulled his arm away and waved him toward the door. “I know the parents are a sore
subject for you, but for what it's worth? You seem like a good boy, and you've
been the best helper I could have asked for. You were raised well." His smile
was a little sadder in the wake of the unpleasant subject he'd brought up. “Let
me treat you to a nice day out for the festivities, alright? You deserve it."

Oswell tried to stop the
wince from spreading across his face, but he wasn't certain that he caught it.
He caught the flicker of sensation from the rabbit and swore internally to
himself. “Out in that cold and snow?" he asked with as wry a smile as he could
manage. “Are you trying to give me a sniffly nose?"

One of the rabbit's ears
drooped as the other perked and swiveled toward the window. “You're dressed to
be plenty warm," Soren pointed out, his voice suddenly distracted. “Any
particular reason you don't wanna go out there besides the cold?"

Oswell knew he couldn't
simply give the honest, full truth. Soren had been good to him, and the fox
hadn't needed to press too hard to receive that treatment. The rabbit had
helped him out of a desire to help, and with no thought of reward or
recompense. That would change if he discovered the truth. “Your Talmaruk
winters are just too cold for my taste," he settled on with a shrug.

It was clear that the rabbit
didn't believe that to be the end of it, and he shrugged as he stepped back
again from Oswell. “Well, it's your call, kid. The bakery's all closed up for
the festivities today and I'm gonna be out at them, so if you're wanting food?
You might want to come along."

The words woke a rumble in
Oswell's stomach loud enough to draw a smile across Soren's face. Both of
Oswell's ears flattened as he pressed a paw to his gut. Risk it all for some
pastries and bread? Surely he could go without food for one day. It wouldn't be the first time.

But a glance at Soren's
face slowed the protests that rose in Oswell's throat. The smile on the rabbit's
face was warm. Inviting. It was friendly,
even. That he didn't know the truth didn't make that any less valid to Oswell. The
lies kept the rabbit safe as much as Oswell himself. “You're not going to let
me stay, are you?" he asked.

Again came the boom of the
rabbit's laughter as he shook his head firmly. “Not even a chance, kid," Soren
replied as he waved toward the door. “Now get your tail moving. We're gonna
miss the show!"

The smile on Oswell's
muzzle as he nodded and followed Soren was entirely for the rabbit's benefit.
Inwardly, the fox felt his heart sink. The trip from Soren's home to work was
short. Chance of discovery was minimal. To be outside, and then to stay outside
in the midst of a crowd that would no doubt include the town guard? That was
trouble.

But at least he waited
until Soren looked away before he let the smile slip.

At a guess, the sun was
only a few minutes from the horizon when Oswell had followed Soren out into the
crisp morning air. He'd tugged his cloak tighter around himself to fend off the
cold even as he'd glared at the light snowfalls. The streets were already full
of the stuff. Oswell didn't want or need to see any more.

The amount of people that
he'd come across as they headed to whatever 'festivities' Soren had meant had
honestly surprised Oswell. It seemed like the hundreds and hundreds of people
that called the port town home had all woken before the dawn in the middle of
the winter just to head to it. The fox suspected that it was either a very fun
event, or they somehow felt obligated.

Eventually, halfway from
the home to the town square, Oswell ran out of patience. “Excuse me for asking,"
he spoke up, and he paused until Soren turned toward him with a quizzical
expression. “But what exactly is this all about?"

It looked for a second as
though Soren was surprised that Oswell even had to ask the question, but then
he smiled back down at the young fox. “Like I said, it's the anniversary of the
Battle of Talencia," he answered. The rabbit paused for a moment before he
pointed up and to the west. “See, there?"

Oswell turned, and could
only see the mountain that he knew that the town backed up onto. “Mount Skarag?"
he asked, and hoped that he'd not just butchered the pronunciation. Talmarukan
language was so strange.

He must have mangled it
anyway though, because Soren nodded even as he laughed again. “Yeah, Skarag. On
the other side of the mountain is Holdus, then there's plains for miles… and
then the ruins of the old capital city. Talencia was the heart and soul of
Talmaruk, kid. Probably the busiest place in the whole kingdom right now, too."

“And it was destroyed in
this battle?" Oswell cocked his head. Why would they celebrate the anniversary
of their capital city's razing?

“Well, a cabal of magi took
up residence in the city," Soren explained, and Oswell was glad that the rabbit's
eyes turned forward as he spoke. He'd failed to catch the way Oswell had
flinched at the word 'magi.' “Back then, Talmaruk loved magi. They helped with
the crops and weather, they protected the people… life was good for everyone
with magic on our sides.

“But these magi weren't the
good kind that Talmaruk had gotten used to. They were necromancers. Dealt in
all sorts of demonic magic." Soren shook his head as a note of bitterness
entered his tone. “Anyway, they took the royal family hostage. The king, his
sons and his daughter were all ritually sacrificed inside the city's defaced
temple to the Lord of Justice."

Oswell shivered in a way
that he could easily have put down to cold. That was how it always was. That
was how everyone viewed magi. “But not the queen?" he asked.

Soren glanced down at the
smaller fox with surprise as he smirked. “Nah, not her. They wanted the king's
bloodline. Something about some powerful magic in his blood. Anyway, she
managed to escape while the palace was raided." His expression soured again. “They
used that magic in their blood to rip a hole in the world. It led to the hells,
and to the domain of the demonlord they called Despair.

“They came pouring through.
More demons than anyone could count. They broke through the temple walls and
lay siege to the whole city." Soren shook his head. “It was a slaughter, kid. Absolute
slaughter. There was nothing that could stop them. Even the magi who summoned
them got tore up."

Warnings about infernal
magic and demons from years ago flitted through Oswell's mind as he shuddered
and nodded. “Demons don't have friends and allies in the mortal world," he
mumbled from memory in his native tongue. “They have slaves and they have prey,
and anyone who thinks otherwise is a fool." He blinked as he glanced up at a
confused Soren. “Just remembering something my father once told me," he
explained, once more in the Talmarukan tongue.

The rabbit nodded. “Well
anyway, they'd taken the whole city in the space of a single day. No one could
stop them. Despair's demons just kept coming, more and more and more of them.
They'd been unstoppable before, but every minute saw more of them come charging
through that hole in the world." He began to smile. “But before word of the
invasion had even reached the rest of Talmaruk, warriors arrived.

“They only ever said that
the Lord of Justice told them that they were needed, so no one knows how they
knew about the invasion. Doesn't matter much how they heard, because a hundred
justicars from the Vendir Kingdom just walked into Talencia with swords and
spears and took the whole city back. Well," he added with a chuckle, “what was left of the city, after the demons got
to it."

The clang of metal on metal
rung out in the cold morning air as Oswell perked his ears up beneath his hood.
“They nearly all died, of course," Soren continued as the crowd around the pair
began to thicken. “Didn't matter, though. They cut down the demons for hours
before they fell. Every time a new demon stepped out of the hole, the justicars
were there to send it back to the hells. 'Course, that wouldn't matter except
they also did something to seal up the hole, too. Saved all of Talmaruk that
day, they did… then they returned to their ships and headed back to their
Vendir brothers. We learned of the gods the Vendir revered and the demons they
stood against all at the same time. A reckoning for all Talmaruk, that was."

It was no wonder that the
people were so fond of the holiday, Oswell mused. A religious order didn't just
save a kingdom and leave without making an impact on the local culture. “And
what happened to the queen?" he asked.

“Hmm? Oh, she lived," Soren
replied. He almost seemed surprised that Oswell had asked. “She was pregnant at
the time, so the royal advisors took over Talmaruk's court duties until after
she gave birth. Everyone was hoping for a son to carry on the king's line." He
began to laugh as he shook his head. “But too bad. She birthed a daughter. The
royal line's done that ever since, actually. Every ruler's a queen. Lots of
people think it's the magi at work. I say it's just luck."

Oswell nodded and forced
another smile as he stared forward. It was impossible to see where the noise
ahead came from, but it certainly sounded like the sparring of warriors. “And
what's happening up there?" he asked as he spared a glance around. With the
crowd so thick it was unlikely that anyone would spot and recognize him, but
one could never be too careful.

Soren chuckled. “It's a
reenactment of the battle," he replied as he squeezed Oswell's shoulder. “Every
year the temple's justicars put on the show. Some dress up as the demons, and
others wear the old, traditional armors they used to wear back then. I've seen
better performances, but we all come out every year to see it." He frowned as
he looked about himself. “Or we would
see it, if there was more room."

The fox glanced around as
if to find a way through the crowd. Instead, he scanned those nearby for any
potential threats as he pulled his hood down further over his head. With all
the bodies that continued to press into the town square, the cold wasn't even
quite so bad as it had been when they'd left. Still, he was sure he could blame
the cold if Soren asked. It was a better reason than not wanting the town guard
less than a foot away to see his face.

He turned around before the
swivel of the guard's head could catch Oswell's stare. “Maybe there's a better
view somewhere else?" he offered as he nervously tugged the hood down again.
Any lower and he'd only inhibit his own vision. “Somewhere higher? Less
crowded?"

Before Soren could reply,
Oswell felt a firm, gauntleted paw grip at his shoulder. The fox immediately
stiffened, and it was only by sheer force of will that he didn't spin to face
that paw's owner. “Sir, please turn around," came an unfamiliar male voice.

Oswell's eyes went wide as
he hesitated a moment. It was the guard. It had to be. A tingle raced along
Oswell's fingers as he forced himself to relax as best he could. If it was just
one, that was okay. He could surely handle one. The fox took a deep breath as
he slowly turned around to face his assailant.

It was indeed the guard he'd
spotted. The helmless lupine soldier stared down at Oswell with a stern frown
on his face and his other, gauntleted paw on the sheathed sword at his hip. “Please
state your name for me," he instructed.

“What's going on?" Soren
asked as he stepped in beside Oswell. “What are you doing?"

The fox gulped and fought
to keep his ears from flattening as the paw on his shoulder drew back his hood.
“My name is Aldwyn," he replied in as confident a tone as his sloppy Talmarukan
speech could allow. “I help Soren at his bakery."

“The kid's a damn good
assistant and he's had a rough time of it lately, so back off," grumbled the
rabbit as he shoved the armored paw off Oswell's shoulder. “This is a festival,
gods all! Let him be!"

The wolf's eyes flicked
briefly to Soren before they locked on Oswell's again. “How long as he been
assisting you at your bakery, sir?" he asked as his eyes narrowed. “Word
reached us of a young magi who matches this Aldwyn's description, and-"

The bark of Soren's laugh
cut the guard off as Oswell stared up at his captor. “Magi, now? Gods, listen to you! Aldwyn's got the magical talent of
a pot." He nodded toward the fox as he grinned. “Go on, boy. Tell him."

For a moment, Oswell
glanced back up at Soren. The rabbit was completely disbelieving and
dismissive; his trust in Oswell was absolute. And yet as he kept using the name
that Oswell had adopted, the fox felt sick to his stomach. Part of that was
fear, but just as much was the betrayal. Soren seemed like a good soul. He'd
helped just to help.

This guard, however, would
need more… persuasive methods to
pacify.

When he turned back to the
guard it was with a smile on his face. It perfectly hid the revulsion in his
guts. “It's just like he said, sir," he added as he reached out to the guard
with his mind. He found the thoughts of the guard as they twisted and writhed
within the wolf's mind, and Oswell began to gently uncurl and soothe them. “I'm
no magi. I just help in the bakery."

The words were carefully
chosen; a lie constructed for his own protection. Talmaruk was unfriendly to
magi, which made it an ideal place to hide so long as one wasn't caught. The
fox carefully focused on every ebb and twitch to the guard's thoughts and
cursed again his incomplete training. He had to be careful — so very careful — to avoid any serious
damage. The last thing Oswell needed was to become the monster they feared him
to be.

But despite those words and
efforts, Oswell felt the wolf's mind resist the relaxing impulse that he'd
delivered. In fact, the guard's mind only seemed to sharpen in response. To
break that would take more effort and be harder to hide from both Soren and the
guard himself. “I'll ask you again, boy," he growled as his fingers tightened
their grip on his sword. “When did you start helping Soren at his bakery?"

“Just barely a week ago,"
Soren replied with a roll of his eyes before Oswell could speak. “Now kindly
leave the poor boy be."

Dread ran through Oswell as
he pulled his thoughts back from the wolf's. He felt the spike of the guard's
suspicion at Soren's words. “Please, sir," he said as he lifted both empty
paws, “I just want to enjoy the festival before we get back to work tomorrow. I
don't want any trouble."

The wolf snorted quietly,
and the huff of his breath rapidly cooled as it washed over Oswell's face. “Too
late, Aldwyn," he growled as he
lifted his head. “Larine? Let the others know Oswell is here and what he's
wearing in case he gets away."

Oswell's eyes went wide as
he turned to follow the wolf's gaze. He only caught sight for a moment of
another guard's armor as she turned and vanished into the gathered crowd. “Please,
sir! You've made a mistake!" Oswell pleaded as the guard's paw clamped back
down hard on his arm.

“If so, I'll apologize
later." The wolf turned toward Soren as the rabbit drew closer and a snarl
rumbled in his throat. “Back down, sir.
At best, you didn't know you were harboring a rogue magi. At worst…" The guard
tilted his head up to stare down his muzzle at Soren. “We wouldn't want anyone
to think you were protecting a murderer, would you?"

The rabbit held the guard's
gaze without a flinch as Oswell glanced between the two. “That is a good kid
there," he said, his voice firm. “He's not the one you're after."

With another snort, the
wolf tugged Oswell firmly back the way he'd come. The fox yelped in pain as his
arm was wrenched about, but a look back showed that Soren hadn't given chase.
His expression had shifted from resolute to concerned as he stared after
Oswell. He mouthed the words don't worry
to the fox, before the crowd swallowed the rabbit up.

And with him gone, there
was nothing to hold Oswell back. The fox's eyes narrowed as he set his jaw and
stared up at his captor. “Just who do you think I am?" he asked.

“The rogue magi known as
Oswell," replied the guard. He almost sounded bored now that he had the fox in
his custody. Had he been spoiling for a fight? “If you're not him, fox, you
look just like him."

As he was pulled through
the ocean of warmly-dressed people, Oswell let his mind focus on worming back
into the guard's thoughts. He could feel the wolf's satisfaction at a job well
done, and just the tiniest mote of concern that he might have been wrong after
all. Good, Oswell thought to himself.
That would make him more pliant. He could try again. “You said this Oswell was
a murderer."

The wolf nodded as he made
for the edge of the crowd and the street that lay just beyond. From his
travels, Oswell knew that the road led toward the town's prison. “A mother and
her two cubs," the guard answered. His voice snapped with the words, and Oswell
could feel a spark of anger that melded with a sense of dread.

So he was angry about the
deaths, but he feared magic. That was something he could work with. “And how do
you know Oswell did this?" he asked as he tugged back a little at the guard.
Unfortunately, his grip was perfect. “How do you know I'm him?"

Frustration began to tinge
the wolf's thoughts as he sighed. “Because he was spotted by a witness. Now be silent until we arrive.
No more questions out of you."

“No. No more questions."
Oswell frowned as he reached out and into the wolf's mind. Forcing himself into
another person's mind was easy enough, but dangerous. He knew in theory he
could take the guard's mind completely over, but such a thing would probably
kill him. Even the level of control the fox prepared to exert was dangerous, in
multiple ways…

But there was little
choice; he would just have to minimize any harm to the innocent guard. He
threaded his thoughts up and out of himself until they began to mingle with
those of the lupine above him. He stood stock still as the guard turned to face
him, and Oswell held the wolf's irritated glare as he probed his thoughts deep
into the guard's core. The wolf's eyes began to glaze over somewhat as Oswell's
will shrouded his own. “You're not sure I'm the one you want."

The words sank into the
haze within the wolf's mind. They permeated slowly and dripped down through his
thoughts, and the fox could feel the guard's frustration and paranoia relax. “I…
no," he quietly mumbled after a moment. “No, I guess not."

With a quick tug of his
arm, Oswell shook himself free of the guard's gauntleted paw. “You'd probably
better tell the others, too," he added as he took a step back from the wolf. “Soren
was pretty upset that-"

“Hey!"

The shout turned both
Oswell's and the guard's heads. Another town guard, this time with a full helm
that obscured their face, shouldered roughly through the crowd as they — a she,
by the voice — pointed at the young fox. “What're you doing? We've gotta take
him in!"

Oswell froze instantly with
fear as he locked his eyes on the new guard. Anger and focus boiled off her in
equal measure; there was no way he'd have the same success influencing her as
the wolf. “We've got the wrong fox," he lazily replied over Oswell's shoulder.

“The hells we do! Look at
him!" She grew closer and closer as Oswell tried his best to keep his eyes
locked on her. The people all around them had begun to turn toward the
commotion, but there was a long, empty street behind him if he needed to run. “Take
a good look! He matches the description given perfectly! How do you know he hasn't played with your head?"

The fox could feel it, of
course. The logic and reason that the other guard had brought to bear had begun
to erode the fog he'd planted in the wolf's mind. His thoughts and eyes began
to sharpen as Oswell took the barest step to his side. There was an alley
there. If he could just-

“Don't even think about it,
kit!" snarled the female guard. Her paw dropped to the sword at her side, not
yet drawn but with the threat clearly evident. Oswell froze up again for a
moment as he felt his tenuous influence over the wolf begin to fray…

Then he heard the wolf draw
his sword, and the fox broke into a run.

He heard the calls behind
for him to stop and surrender, but Oswell knew that was no option. He dashed
into the alley and swept an arm up even as he stretched out with his powers.
Behind him, the snow that had settled in the street swept up in a sudden,
magic-fueled draft. The powder obscured the guard's vision as Oswell shot
around a corner and away from her.

The fox didn't stop once he
was around the corner. He leaned forward as his tail lashed under his thick
coat. A chilling gust of headwind knocked his hood back as he turned his head
from it with a quiet growl. Once again he was glad he'd not chosen to hide out
in the even-more frigid Kashirad, even as he lamented not having gone somewhere
warmer in the winter.

As he came out the other
end of the alley though, Oswell almost ran right into the backside of another
guard. He hastily skidded to a halt on the icy ground and raised his paws. The
guard, perhaps alerted to the sound of his quick breaths and the heavy tromping
of his boots began to turn, and Oswell's eyes went wide as he darted to the
side.

The guard wasn't fooled,
and the helmed head began to turn quickly back the other way toward the fox.
With no other option present, Oswell winced and reached out with his mind. He
felt the delicate landscape of the guard's thoughts and his surface musings — who was that? Where'd they go? Threat?
Weapon? Assessment? — as he closed his eyes. “So sorry," he muttered.

Oswell's thoughts sharpened
to a spear as they drove forward and interrupted those musings. They disrupted
the delicate landscape and ripped a messy hole in the guard's awareness. He
felt rather than saw the slackness of the guard's muzzle as it hung open,
stunned by the mental blow. Some well-honed instinct brought a gauntlet-clad
paw to the hilt of a sword, and the guard even managed to cleanly draw the
weapon a moment later.

The momentum from the swing
of the guard's arm spun him bodily around as he went limp. Consciousness left
him as he fell toward the ground, and Oswell gasped and withdrew himself from
his target's mind before he could be dragged down into oblivion's embrace with
him. The fox stumbled back a couple of steps as he sniffled in the cold air,
before he turned and bolted down the street again.

He'd barely made it a
couple of steps before a shout went up behind him, and Oswell cursed inwardly.
He'd hoped for at least a minute or so before the guard could be discovered,
but it was evidently not quite his day. He lowered his head into the wind and
flattened his ears as he pushed his legs to the burning point.

A yelp was torn from his
throat as a wooden something whizzed
past his head. The arrow buried itself in the door of a nearby building even as
another lanced fortuitously between his legs. It missed flesh, fur and clothing
by barely an inch, but it was enough to make Oswell jump and lose his footing.
The fox scrabbled across the icy ground on all-fours for a moment as he tried
to force himself around another corner. For the brief moment that he dared
look, he could see the two bow-armed guards that had taken shots at him.

As well as the five more
soldiers that had already begun to run up from behind them. The fox cursed
aloud that time as he pushed his body upright again. Another arrow glanced off
the corner of the building beside him before his mad dash took him out of the
guard's line of sight. He had maybe ten seconds before they would follow, and
then he'd be lucky if they didn't kill him.

But as his eyes turned
forward again, the fox raised both paws with surprise. He slammed into a barrel
that only made it up to his waist and gasped as the air was knocked out of him
with his impact. Oswell swept it aside with both arms as he stumbled past it and
started for the next street. He brushed past a tall, middle-aged wolf with a
quick apology as he started to run again.

“Take a left, boy."

Oswell froze in place for a
moment as he turned back to the source of the voice. It was the wolf he'd just
pushed past who'd spoken, and his muzzle held the ghost of a smile as he looked
over the younger fox. He paused for a second to drink in the stranger's
appearance; had they met before? The wolf seemed sort of familiar… or was it
out-of-place?

There was no time to consider
it for very long, though. The guards that had chased Oswell around the corner
soon emerged, and he was faced with the choice. To go left would take him on a
street back toward the festival, and no doubt toward not just the town guard's
forces but also a slew of well-trained justicars. To go right would lead into
another alley. Where that alley led Oswell didn't know, but away from trouble was what he needed.

The fox hesitated a second
longer to look over the wolf again, but that was all he could spare. Behind the
wolf, one of the archers nocked another arrow and aimed it at Oswell. There was
no time to decide, and the wolf was just some stranger. Oswell needed to
escape. He turned right and ran.

It was barely in time to
avoid the loosed arrow; even the wolf had needed to duck to avoid the bolt. It
clattered uselessly further down the street as Oswell darted into the alley. He
wasn't quite ready for the sharp turn to the right again a short ways in, and
the fox grunted as he slammed into the wall. He pushed off as pain lanced up
his side, but Oswell put it out of his head as he turned his eyes forward-

-and to the dead end before
him.

Those eyes went wide with
fear as he shot forward. His gloved paws reached out to the tall wall before
him. If he had time he knew he could scale it and make it over, but the fox
knew he didn't have that sort of time. He didn't have the arcane strength,
training or refinement to use his magic to vault it, or destroy it and pass
through. Equally, he knew he couldn't safely subdue seven guards before he
would be killed.

Oswell was trapped.

Fear took hold, and the
young fox whirled and started back the way he'd come. But it was well and truly
too late; no sooner had he made it to the corner again than he almost ran
face-first into the nocked arrow of one of the guards. The rest joined that
armored figure as Oswell scrabbled backward and away from them until he was
pressed right up against the wall that had him trapped. “Wait, please," he
tried to say. He was surprised that it came out at all, even so close to an
unintelligible squeak as it was.

“Thanks for giving us a
reason, Oswell," growled one of the guards behind the archers. At the words,
Oswell squeezed his eyes shut and cringed back from the inevitable arrows. His
ears flattened as he squeaked once more.

Then came the twang of
released bowstrings.