closed starter for @men-of-paradise -Taff
The last kick sent a small spray of powder up into the grey afternoon light. Tai watched the snow settle back over the mound—over the shape beneath it, the one that used to wear his uncle's colors—and decided that was good enough. Nobody was going to find Soldier Number Four until spring thaw, and by then Tai planned to be three kingdoms away, sipping something warm and pretending none of this had ever happened.
His paw stung. He lifted it, tongue darting out to lap at the gash across the pad where the bastard's knife had caught him mid-shift. Rookie mistake. He'd gotten sloppy, let the man get too close before the illusion took hold. The wound wasn't deep, but it burned in the cold, a sharp little reminder that playing games with killers had consequences.
Four. Is that all of them? I hope that's all of them. Ow. That actually really hurts.
He didn't want to count. Counting made it feel like a list, and lists implied an end, and the end meant going back to—
A purple fire drifted through the treeline, bobbing lazily between the snow-heavy pines. One of his foxfire lures. He'd sent out a dozen of them this morning, hoping to draw out another hunter, but the flame was leading someone else toward him now. Footsteps crunched behind it, heavy, the stride of someone who knew how to move through deep snow without fighting it.
Tai's ears swiveled. His wounded paw hovered above the white powder.
Hold on. That’s not a soldier. The gait was wrong. His uncle's men crashed through the terrain like it owed them coin. This person walked as if they knew the mountain.
The foxfire dipped lower as it approached, drawn by the thread of will Tai kept wrapped around each little flame. He could feel the warmth of whoever followed, a body that ran hot even in this frozen nowhere. The figure emerged from between two birches: broad shoulders, fur-lined hood pulled low, built like someone who worked in these mountains for years.
He's a local. Has to be. He's huge. Okay, don't run. Running makes you look guilty. Just sit. Shiver a little bit. Be small. Tai let out a slow breath through his nose, fog curling from his small dark nostrils.
He adjusted his posture, let his injured paw tremble visibly against the snow. Lowered his head. Made his black eyes wide, then wet. He sat down in the snow, whimpering softly. The sound came out high, almost pitiful, a noise that made humans want to scoop you up and take you home.
Hi there. I'm just a scared little fox who definitely wasn't burying a corpse thirty seconds ago. Please feel sorry for me.
The foxfire guttered as a gust swept through the pass, violet sparks scattering like startled fireflies before the flame winked out entirely. Tai blinked at the sudden darkness it left behind, the way the grey afternoon seemed to press closer without that small warmth.
The stranger stopped. Tai could feel the weight of a gaze settling on him. He held very still, playing wounded, and waited to see what the mountain would do next.