Fox's Glade be cunning, and full of tricks
all the world will be your enemy
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#1
All Welcome 
@Mona - didn't wanna wait
 
The silfessi ventured out beyond the pack borders that day in search of the peace and quiet that he had only found in the heart of the nearby glade. His long limbs carried him swiftly from the edges of the valley and into the stretching pasture. Once through, he found the murmur of the dale and felt his rigid frame find a quiet amity with the terrain. Tadec preferred the fox’s hideaway to the valley that he shared with the wild wolves, but he knew that it would have been frowned upon for him to remain there when he had promised himself to the Rah of the Bearclaw wolves.
 
Picking his way across fresh snow, the smoky hound searched the glade for signs of prey, or for the red-furred predator that was known to haunt the surroundings. The burning of his bronze sight was a startling contrast to the pristine white that coated the earth and rocks. His dark frame, too, seemed out of place in the unspoiled clearing. It seemed that he was one of the first to cross into it since the fall of snow.
all the world will be your enemy, Prince of a Thousand Enemies. 
and when they catch you, they will kill you. but first they must catch you; 
digger, listener, runner, Prince with the swift warning. 
be cunning, and full of tricks, and your people will never be destroyed.
blood canticle
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#2
it was the second day since mona had departed tindome and discovered she was unsure if she wished to return. she wandered alone through the little trove of lingering fox-scent, wrinkling her muzzle somewhat in a brief and vague disgust, more instinctual than truly felt. and for the third time that day, the little mayfair's vision soon blurred with tears.
sighing sharply at her eyes' inability to retain their stupid moisture, mona sat down heavily alongside a half-buried stone, fixing her lips in a bitter pout.
what was wrong with her? why did everything she felt come with the price of tears? sniffling noisily, sure she was alone, the witch-child stared at the snow, her sobs soon lessening and trailing to the occasional tremble of her scarlet-hued shoulders.
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all the world will be your enemy
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#3
Each step was placed gingerly atop the snow, and Tadec moved so that he might not be caught in the dale. The deeper he wandered, the more the creatures came to life. His ears swiveled to the sounds of birds chirping overhead and the cool running of the water as it babbled past. It would have made for a suitable home if he were still traveling on his own. There was a pang within him that reminded the moonlighter of his intentions, but he felt as though his ventures were well spent.
 
Drawing himself forward on stretching limbs, the halfling caught the faintest end to a desperate cry. With a thin-lipped expression, the dark-plumed crow peered through the brush in search of what might have sounded out in such soft and broken tones. When he caught sight of her beside the rock, he felt himself stirring. She was cloaked in a pelt that had been touched by the grace and love of Firth, just as Indra had. The dark coyote did not believe that this could be a coincidence. He pushed through the shrub and latched his bronze sights to her sad figure.
 
“Hush, éneer eth,” he breathed to her in a soft timbre. There was an encouraging fluttering of his tail as he closed some of the distance between them. Tadec remained as unimposing as a lapin searching for greens.
all the world will be your enemy, Prince of a Thousand Enemies. 
and when they catch you, they will kill you. but first they must catch you; 
digger, listener, runner, Prince with the swift warning. 
be cunning, and full of tricks, and your people will never be destroyed.
blood canticle
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#4
"you're a wicked, foolish girl, mona antha mayfair!" the girl chided herself aloud in a sharp hiss, rubbing teardrops roughly from her cheeks with the crook of one forepaw. but there came a whisper to her ear; the druidling froze, lifting her crimson visage to regard the fine-boned, kind features of the dark creature who had approached her.
he carried the scent of wolves on withers that did not belong to her kith; mona's tears were forgotten in her surprise, the widening of her wet murkwater eyes as she gathered the rich details of the unfamilar face. had it been another wolf, the mayfair would have quit the glade in horror, but the warmth in the other's eyes seemed somehow unconditional, and the girl found the brief tension melting from her muscles. "what ... what are you?" she whispered, and then her crimson ears folded. "how very rude of me. i apologize." oh, wouldn't rowan be proud of her?
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all the world will be your enemy
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#5
The moonlighter drew his ears forward at the sound of her voice and was shocked to see the cool green of her gaze widen upon catching sight of his long-limbed and rangy appearance. She was truly a stunning thing, cloaked in sharp scarlet and rich gold, with a gaze that whispered an age not belonging to her. If Indra was of the summer – Fritheer – then this red woman must have been of the thayrte. For he could not understand how one’s eyes could so closely resemble the color of mossy waters on a warm day.
 
The question hung in the air for a moment before she asked for forgiveness. Tadec cast a ghostly little smile before parting his lips to speak. “This one is called Tadec,” he told her in Hedgerow, hoping that she might understand. He had not fully grasped her inquiry had required specifics to his blood instead of his name. She seemed kindly, though shattered in a way that he could not comprehend. “Why does the wolf cry?”
all the world will be your enemy, Prince of a Thousand Enemies. 
and when they catch you, they will kill you. but first they must catch you; 
digger, listener, runner, Prince with the swift warning. 
be cunning, and full of tricks, and your people will never be destroyed.
blood canticle
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#6
he gazed so keenly upon her that mona knew something must be amiss, that she did not quail beneath his gaze nor feel shame creeping to light her cheeks with that baleful fire. the girl gazed back at the odd, gentle man, realizing how he was both nightfall and early sunlight, and casmir's tales began to creep into her mind. stories from blue willow, fantasies from his travels, monsters and heroes coming alive in her father's voice, limned with his audible zeal and punctuated by gasps and laughter from his children on warm nights.
mona realized then that she had thought of casmir as her father for the first time in months, and the grief thickened in her throat until she dropped her eyes from the soft worrying gaze of tadec and drew a shuddering breath. all she had been doing was chasing an old ghost through the teekon, abandoning her mother and father, the man who had raised her long after lasher's bones had begun to molder in his fairy-ringed grave.
"i ran away from my family. and then i ran from my home, and m—" the mayfair closed her lips tightly to keep from any mention of the stark-eyed soldier she had left behind in tindome, who no doubt would range far, searching for his firebird who did not want to return to the vale. not truly. a pregnant silence followed then, broken only by a single sniffle from the woebegone mayfair.
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all the world will be your enemy
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#7
Ah, she had run. The thief dipped his crown in a knowing fashion and cast his gaze to the side as if to offer her a moment of privacy from the depths of his bronze optics. To him, the concept of running was not unfamiliar, and he imagined that his home would applaud her choices. The phrase of his birth still held true to him, so he may well have feigned his understanding. Fixing her once more with his sights, the crow canted his head to the left and cast a thoughtful frown to his thin-lipped muzzle. “All the world will be your enemy,” he breathed to her. Inlé was a cool and tricky creature to have left such a thing with the likes of Tadec. Still, the thief carried it well and lived strictly to the life that had been intended for him.
 
“Why run?”
all the world will be your enemy, Prince of a Thousand Enemies. 
and when they catch you, they will kill you. but first they must catch you; 
digger, listener, runner, Prince with the swift warning. 
be cunning, and full of tricks, and your people will never be destroyed.
blood canticle
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#8
mona blinked at the words spoken by the male, his soft voice compelling her scarlet auds to swivel forward. "what does that mean, tadec?" the girl asked softly, adding in his name with a shy hesitation. he was still a stranger, after all. or perhaps he was not, with how his lucid eyes had drawn all manner of grievances from mona.
to his query, the mayfair slumped back against the stone and let her head loll to one side against its cold surface. "my family ... my father ..." mona closed her murkwater eyes, a sigh swelling her narrow chest. "the man who raised me is not my father; he is my brother. and my father is dead. and i will never know him." 
as she spoke, the emotion in her voice trailed away into the half-living monotone she had only heard from her own throat once before. however, the child turned back toward the guardian of painful souls, as perhaps indeed tadec was in some half-spun fantasy. "i'm mona, by the way." and for once, the name of mayfair did not matter.
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all the world will be your enemy
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#9
To survive, he had hoped she would say, but the red girl instead inquired what his warning should mean. The halfling met her with a curling smile and his ears drew forward. “A reminder,” he told her in a simple tone, but his features were graver than they had been before. “Inlé offered Tadec this when young,” he then added, hoping she would understand. It was often difficult to help others understand the messages of the seers.
 
“All the world will be your enemy, Prince of a Thousand Enemies,” he started again, but this time he continued with, “And when they catch you, they will kill you. But first they must catch you; digger, listener, runner, Prince with the swift warning. Be cunning, and full of tricks, and your people will never be destroyed.”
 
Once he had concluded, Tadec’s smile had faded away and he was left with a solemn burning in the very pit of his stomach. She seemed to have been spurred by life and the unfortunate circumstances surrounding it. She spoke of a deceased father and he could see the heartbreak that was wrought on her young features. In this, he shared a similar experience, for he had continued after his mother’s life had been ended prematurely. The thought still scorched him like wildfire.
 
Then, the girl introduced herself as Mona. Tadec offered her a spreading smile and bowed himself in a graceful and sweeping motion. “Mona ol u los?,” he asked curiously.
all the world will be your enemy, Prince of a Thousand Enemies. 
and when they catch you, they will kill you. but first they must catch you; 
digger, listener, runner, Prince with the swift warning. 
be cunning, and full of tricks, and your people will never be destroyed.
blood canticle
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#10
some part of mona remained shocked that she should bond so quickly and willingly with a stranger. but it was not a mere stranger who had come in the darkness, she believed; tadec was a being of light, sent to help her. it was what she wished to believe, though casmir's more logical teachings prevented the thought from taking root in the fertile soil of mona's wild imagination.
the girl listened raptly as tadec spoke, and while she could not connect all of the things he had said with her own awareness, the missive of his words were clear. she found herself wondering truly, who this creature was, and if she was indeed dreaming in the snowy glade wherein foxes denned.
the smile that had left his features soon returned, and the firebird was warmed by it. her own mouth curved in a genuine bow; the girl straightened her slim body and regarded tadec with a new fondness. "prince of a thousand enemies. that sounds like a story."
to his inquiry, mona gave a long blink, dipping her muzzle in a little bow of her own, then rejoined "mayfair," not truly understanding what he had asked but wishing to answer him all the same.
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all the world will be your enemy
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#11
The Hedgerow was challenging for him to hold lengthy conversation, but he willed himself to continue with the girl before him – Mona – so that she might find a sense of peace. Tadec knew that her blood was that of a wolf, but he could not fault her for such lineage. He too had been thrust into a similar pool of unfortunate stock. The two of them were as different as they could have been, but he knew there was something within her that had been fractured. Unable to fluently point to the precise thing that had been riven, the thief was drawn to the desolate green that so carefully clung to her soul.
 
Mayfair, had been her second offering of a name. Her voice carried an interested tone at the mention of the Prince of a Thousand Enemies, and Mona made mention of the story that she anticipated was attached to such a title. Tadec could only smile at her and nod softly; he was not certain how he could tell her that she was correct and very wrong in the assumption. For the story had not yet concluded – the ending was still dark.
 
“Many stories, Tadec has,” he said, pleased with the collection that had gathered beneath his skin. “Mona has stories also?” the moonlighter sought to delve deeper into the green-eyed woman. He fixed her with a quick, but miniscule, tilt of his crown and a questioning glint in his lantern gaze.
all the world will be your enemy, Prince of a Thousand Enemies. 
and when they catch you, they will kill you. but first they must catch you; 
digger, listener, runner, Prince with the swift warning. 
be cunning, and full of tricks, and your people will never be destroyed.
blood canticle
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#12
many stories — delight lit the green from within the swamp-water of mona's inherited eyes, and her lips curved into the first smile she had felt in her heart for some time. "i do." but what stories could she tell a man who carried tales in his proverbial knapsack? "i'm told two of my sisters are witches," mona breathed finally, having never spoken of the donnelaith druids to anyone as of yet. "or were — i don't know what happened to them."
"our father is buried in a place where a magic forest burned," mona began, deciding that if she could not gather the finer details of lasher's life on earth from those who had known him, she would embellish them. "he was king of it. he was a wolf and a ghost, and a witch. he had ... seven children," mona pressed, voice wavering only a moment. 
as if bidden, a pause followed wherein the girl adopted a rather stricken expression, her murkwater eyes bound dizzily to the kind face of the story-prince. "and i'm his last daughter — oh, tadec! does that make me a witch?" her tone was both horrified and titillated; the stuff of mythos before her and she apprehensive, looking to this nightguide for her answer.
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#13
The thief tried with valiant effort to understand her; he longed to know what she was weaving for him through a flurry of language he was not altogether fluent in. The dark half-blooded creature watched her through the embers of his gaze, smiling in an encouraging manner. She wove a tale of magnificent beings he could not fathom on his own. Still, Tadec was enthralled with such words. There were few things that he managed to clasp, and he held them with a fevered delight until she had concluded her speech. Then still, the red girl turned to him with a desperate cry and he scooted toward her to press his nose against her cheek. The spindly creature’s eyelids fluttered over his lantern optics before he opened them to peer at her with shared passion for her vexation.
 
The coywolf shook his head softly at her inquiry, but he was not entirely capable of comprehending the meaning of a witch. She had spoken of magics and he had hoped to combine the two together to form a clearer understanding. “Not witch,” he ushered in a hushed tone, “strong girl.” It was clear in the lines that had printed to her youthful features; she had known difficulty and had clawed her way through it. Tadec could admire this for being a feat most could not accomplish, and his compliment was spoken with a soft sincerity.
 
The dark Prince moved back a step or two and plucked his paws from the earth in a soft stepped passage before halting. “Mona know magic? Show Tadec magic wood,” he urged her with curling lips and a swift tossing of his muzzle for her to lead them away from their meeting place and into an unknown land.
all the world will be your enemy, Prince of a Thousand Enemies. 
and when they catch you, they will kill you. but first they must catch you; 
digger, listener, runner, Prince with the swift warning. 
be cunning, and full of tricks, and your people will never be destroyed.
blood canticle
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#14
the glowing balm of tadec's eyes were upon her; she felt his touch, saw the twinned emotion in his gaze. somewhat dazed, but with her trust growing in the little creature each moment, mona nodded at his soft words. she did not need to be a witch, nor a druid, to have her strength recognized. and what was more, to see in herself the passion of the ones who had come before. swallowing back a new sort of tearfulness, the young mayfair drew a breath that shook only a little.
it was tadec who urged mona to her feet, to cast her gaze about the wood with a renewed verve. she was to lead, and he would follow. did she know magick? the mayfair was not sure, but she was not averse to attempting it. not with such a delighted audience.
"all right," she murmured, her gaze warming with a soft joy. "maybe ... maybe we will see the spirit of the little fox." she held her tonguetip between her teeth, unable to keep from eventually breaking into a grin as she paced forward. would tadec believe her? mona wished to know what he made of her suggestion.
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#15
The breath that fell from her lips still carried the weight of her worries and strife, but she was trying. Even he could see the effort that was made to bolster the strength within her. After a moment, she had agreed to lead him to the magic wood, and Tadec found himself so stricken with delight that his nimble frame seemed to jitter before her. The dark coal of his tail came to life in a twittering motion that managed to climb upward and offer a shimmy of his hips. As she fell into her own pace, he moved behind her with a low head and a curious, watchful stare on her scarlet coat. Tadec was inspired by the number of wolves who had seemingly been touched by Frith; many of them had seemed to hold the very rays of the sun in the thick hairs on their backs. He, of course, belonged to Inlé and the moon, but his mother had always told him that there was a piece of him that had been graced by Frith and that it showed in the embers of his eyes and the russet hairs of his shoulders. The nimble moonlighter knew that he would never carry the same golden radiance as Mona or Indra, but he was fortunate to know them.
 
The mystic mentioned the spirit of a fox. Tadec’s lengthy ears drew forward at the word and he found himself to be entirely enthralled with the prospect of such a thing. Homba,” he spoke in his native tongue and his pace quickened. There was a breath of questioning in the single word that had left his lips, as though he were asking for her to elaborate on the spirit that she spoke of. “Mona summon homba?” the moonlighter then inquired to her, clearly lost in the prospect that had been presented to him. Tadec imagined that if she were truly a witch of the wood, she would have some control over the matters there; she would be able to call on the spirits around them.
all the world will be your enemy, Prince of a Thousand Enemies. 
and when they catch you, they will kill you. but first they must catch you; 
digger, listener, runner, Prince with the swift warning. 
be cunning, and full of tricks, and your people will never be destroyed.
blood canticle
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#16
she watched the movements of him, mirroring the quietude of his delight with the quickness of her gliding to his side. the mayfair beheld how tadec's soulful gaze flickered the glow of precious gems across her coat, and wondered at it. but she had no time for such contemplations, for the small warrior was speaking.
drawing up her stride, mona watched the play of intrigue and reverence fan across her companion's countenance. "hoomba? no, homba," the little firebird corrected, confused despite the slow burn of a smile across her lips. "i've never summoned anything before," she mused, worrying her lip before sweeping her murkwater eyes around the darkened place. "but i would like to try. tadec," the druid-child whispered, her ears drawing forward in a curiosity, "what is a homba?"
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all the world will be your enemy
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#17
In that moment, the crow belonged to her – the witch of the wood – and he did not mind it one bit.
 
There was a sweet peace to her damaged state and recovery. The rawboned thief was eager to see her reach out with divination and touch the earth with her thaumaturgic skill. Surely, he lacked any such skill or power, but he seemed to dance with belief in her. Mona spoke with disbelief in her spirit and her own faculty. Around them, there was a zephyr from beyond the gates of their corporeal world. Even the moonlighter could feel it as it tossed the fire of his shoulders and back through the air. There was a tempest of life that rattled the woodland.
 
An inquiry struck him, and the crow fixed her with his ardent gaze. Homba is fox,” he answered her with a shriveled smile that curled the narrow features of his face and revealed the sharp glint of his incisors beneath his coal-colored lips. Tadec met the murky jade of her eyes, and he felt himself fall into the emerald pools that existed there – only there – as they searched for the spirit of something he had never seen.
all the world will be your enemy, Prince of a Thousand Enemies. 
and when they catch you, they will kill you. but first they must catch you; 
digger, listener, runner, Prince with the swift warning. 
be cunning, and full of tricks, and your people will never be destroyed.
blood canticle
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#18
when the intensity of his gaze met her own, mona knew she could not be sure if tadec was real — yes, the darkness of his flame-edged self seemed to her eyes tangible, but he was without age. her mother had told her of ghosts and demons and the spirits worshipped by lasher; mona knew within her own veins coursed a legacy that even she did not understand.
the fox — homba — was all but forgotten as the druid-child's breath hitched in her throat and a shiver ran the length of her scarletfurred body. "i ran away because something in me was different," the girl revealed in a tumbling whisper, both utterly compelled and immolated by the knowingness of tadec's burning gaze. "teach me to be magick; teach me to find the homba, please," mona whispered to the crow, transfixed in a stasis that knew no time.
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