It was the 28th Sun of the Fifth Astral Moon. Syluss had wandered off on his own without telling anyone. Leaving in the middle of the night he ventured deep in the far reaches of the Twelveswood, familiar to him yet foreign at the same time. The old familiar village he spent his first several years growing up in. None were up and awake, and darkness loomed over the abodes as the woodsman made his way through, silent steps as he passed around the perimeter of the small community. Off the beaten path he came to an array of headstones, more since he last visited exactly one year ago. Respectfully stepping between headstones and mounds, he came to one headstone which was different from the others. The stonework was unremarkable, the grave no different. The only difference was twenty-four hand carved wooden foxes. Some playing, some sleeping, all of them in various positions and designs. Reaching into his satchel he draws out a twenty-fifth and places it in a very specific place about Olette Collignon’s grave. His sister was always fond of foxes and wanted one for her very own. This was the closest he could do to grant her the wish she wanted.
“Hey sis.” He sits just to the side and crosses his legs under him. “This one’s name is Bismark. I named him after a restaurant which I think was named after a beast tribes deity. Or something. I named him after the restaurant. He likes cheese, so take good care of him.” He forced a sad smile on his face, eyes wet with tears. “Uh.... oh, I found someone. Again. I know I told you about Saraya, but things didn’t work out. But her name is Destiney. She likes wolves like me, and has one too, little wolf pup named Tucker. You’d love him, he’s a hungry little guy.” Exhaling heavily he wipes his eyes. “But yeah. I really love Destiney, she’s sweet. Like mom. You’d really like her.” His lip starts shaking and he purses them together tightly, wiping his eyes again. “Sorry I turn into this weeping mess every year. I’ll leave you to play with your new friend, where ever you are. I love you sis. Miss you.” He kisses his fingers and touches her name, carved into the weathered stone before standing.
His ears twitch as the sound of twigs under footsteps comes from behind him. Placing a hand on his knife, he snaps his head around to find an older dark skinned Duskwight. His eyes, adjusted to the dark narrowed at who he saw. Eye locking for only seconds, but what felt like days. The woodsman wiped his eyes once more and threw his satchel strap over his shoulder and started off in the opposite direction. The older man started to say something, but was abruptly cut off. “Shut up.” Syluss’ footsteps never stopped, and with haste, he left the area, never to return until one cycle from now.