The light was failing.
Walking the woods with Isuma bouncing at his side, Jigano, haggard from lack of dreams, had noticed the drift of herds of luxere suddenly moving with a coordination he’d not yet seem from the great antlered creatures. He had slept longer than he'd thought, trying to find the dreams he'd traded away, and the day had been so short he’d barely found food for himself and his companion. They hadn’t even made it towards town before it seemed like the sun was setting again. The gryphon was restless, and the naturals had warned them that the Long Night was almost upon them, but Jigano had though the last day would be longer. He’d meant to spend the week with Isla in the Infirmary, but there was no time, now, to do anything but coax Isuma onto his back, ignoring the painful cut of her claws through his fur as he ran grimly across the snow.
He followed the tracks of the luxere that headed towards the nearest source of shelter he knew of. Rory’s farm would surely have space for a lanky fox and small gryphon, wouldn’t it? His friend might even be glad of the quiet company for the week. A week spent in his foxform would be longer than he’d ever gone before, but with the blond hunter at his side it seemed not only doable, but unexpectedly something he found himself looking forward to. A little beacon of light against the anxiety that sent his heart pounding as he raced the setting sun.
He caught up to the medium-sized herd of glowing-antlered deer as the last straggler filtered down from the woods to set up their perimeter around the farm, where it stood between fields and trees. A few of those who had already arrived snorted solemn greeting – and perhaps warning? – at him as he finally slowed his steps, Isuma peeping politely back at them from her perch on his back and shoulders. The farmhouse and its sturdy door were just ahead, and not a moment too soon as the sun was more than halfway down the horizon. Ears perked forward, the fox began to trot towards it—
Five scents caught his nose as he drew close, all familiar and two reassuring, even if Amalia’s was unexpected. But of the other three each, in their way, was enough to raise his hackles. Two belonged to the dogs, canines who had offered him violence before. Their tracks led to the door and beyond it, into the warmth and light that Jigano had been yearning for. That alone would have been enough to give him pause, but the third scent was more complex both in composition and in emotional effect. Blood on the snow, and pain in his friend’s eyes, and anger and betrayal were caught up in it, along with frozen flesh and worn leather and a torn cloak. He froze for long moments he couldn’t afford, ears flattened to his skull as Isuma chirruped in concern, sensing his inner conflict.
A big buck ducked its head to nudge him towards the house, gently but firmly, and Jigano found himself moving again but not without trepidation. The house would have its own dangers for a fox and a gryphon cub, and he didn’t know enough to guess which would be more deadly. But he had to reach shelter, and swiftly. Shying away from the house, feeling the fear building in his chest and echoed from his companion, he curved around to the farm proper, trotting past the outbuildings and following the earthier scents of horses and goats to the big barn, even as the shadows stretched long and ominous across the world. It was shelter, and warmth, and food in the form of the mice and rats who lived in the hay, even if it would be a rough and lonely week. Darker than the inside of his den in the glade, and far from his friends, but hopefully safe for Isuma, which was what he clung to as he shifted smoothly back into his human shape, steadying the gryphlet on his shoulder.
He had gone around to the side of the barn first, where there was a smaller door for people rather than horses, an easier entrance to wrangle open – and to blockade firmly, once inside. He was glad of his warm gloves that protected his hands from splinters, even as he struggled to shift the rarely-moved crossbar. There was no way to replace it once he was inside, but he opened the door just far enough to slide his lean frame through, lifting the bar up as he did so and slipping underneath. He closed the door as far as he could until only his wrist was outside, still holding the crossbar. As the sun slipped below the horizon he raised the bar up, then swiftly and gently closed the door, letting the bar fall back into its brackets outside with a rattling thump.
It was dark inside, the bleating of goats meeting his intrusion as the little herd edged away from him when they realized he wasn’t Rory. He shifted back into his fox form, Isuma squeaking soft protest as he suddenly shrank beneath her. She tumbled into the hay, then blinked big, owl eyes around the barn, the only light from the faint glow of the luxere outside filtering through knotholes in the siding. Jigano nudged her gently with his nose to make sure she was unhurt, then let her take ahold of his tail with her beak as he put his nose down and led the way back to a stall with a familiar horsey smell. Talys was there, calm and warm and unbothered by the little vulpine visitor. With a soft, grateful whine Jigano tucked himself and his companion into the clean straw in a corner of the stall facing inwards, curling himself protectively around Isuma and keeping his ears perked up and straining for whatever was going on outside the barn.
Long Night had fallen.
Walking the woods with Isuma bouncing at his side, Jigano, haggard from lack of dreams, had noticed the drift of herds of luxere suddenly moving with a coordination he’d not yet seem from the great antlered creatures. He had slept longer than he'd thought, trying to find the dreams he'd traded away, and the day had been so short he’d barely found food for himself and his companion. They hadn’t even made it towards town before it seemed like the sun was setting again. The gryphon was restless, and the naturals had warned them that the Long Night was almost upon them, but Jigano had though the last day would be longer. He’d meant to spend the week with Isla in the Infirmary, but there was no time, now, to do anything but coax Isuma onto his back, ignoring the painful cut of her claws through his fur as he ran grimly across the snow.
He followed the tracks of the luxere that headed towards the nearest source of shelter he knew of. Rory’s farm would surely have space for a lanky fox and small gryphon, wouldn’t it? His friend might even be glad of the quiet company for the week. A week spent in his foxform would be longer than he’d ever gone before, but with the blond hunter at his side it seemed not only doable, but unexpectedly something he found himself looking forward to. A little beacon of light against the anxiety that sent his heart pounding as he raced the setting sun.
He caught up to the medium-sized herd of glowing-antlered deer as the last straggler filtered down from the woods to set up their perimeter around the farm, where it stood between fields and trees. A few of those who had already arrived snorted solemn greeting – and perhaps warning? – at him as he finally slowed his steps, Isuma peeping politely back at them from her perch on his back and shoulders. The farmhouse and its sturdy door were just ahead, and not a moment too soon as the sun was more than halfway down the horizon. Ears perked forward, the fox began to trot towards it—
Five scents caught his nose as he drew close, all familiar and two reassuring, even if Amalia’s was unexpected. But of the other three each, in their way, was enough to raise his hackles. Two belonged to the dogs, canines who had offered him violence before. Their tracks led to the door and beyond it, into the warmth and light that Jigano had been yearning for. That alone would have been enough to give him pause, but the third scent was more complex both in composition and in emotional effect. Blood on the snow, and pain in his friend’s eyes, and anger and betrayal were caught up in it, along with frozen flesh and worn leather and a torn cloak. He froze for long moments he couldn’t afford, ears flattened to his skull as Isuma chirruped in concern, sensing his inner conflict.
A big buck ducked its head to nudge him towards the house, gently but firmly, and Jigano found himself moving again but not without trepidation. The house would have its own dangers for a fox and a gryphon cub, and he didn’t know enough to guess which would be more deadly. But he had to reach shelter, and swiftly. Shying away from the house, feeling the fear building in his chest and echoed from his companion, he curved around to the farm proper, trotting past the outbuildings and following the earthier scents of horses and goats to the big barn, even as the shadows stretched long and ominous across the world. It was shelter, and warmth, and food in the form of the mice and rats who lived in the hay, even if it would be a rough and lonely week. Darker than the inside of his den in the glade, and far from his friends, but hopefully safe for Isuma, which was what he clung to as he shifted smoothly back into his human shape, steadying the gryphlet on his shoulder.
He had gone around to the side of the barn first, where there was a smaller door for people rather than horses, an easier entrance to wrangle open – and to blockade firmly, once inside. He was glad of his warm gloves that protected his hands from splinters, even as he struggled to shift the rarely-moved crossbar. There was no way to replace it once he was inside, but he opened the door just far enough to slide his lean frame through, lifting the bar up as he did so and slipping underneath. He closed the door as far as he could until only his wrist was outside, still holding the crossbar. As the sun slipped below the horizon he raised the bar up, then swiftly and gently closed the door, letting the bar fall back into its brackets outside with a rattling thump.
It was dark inside, the bleating of goats meeting his intrusion as the little herd edged away from him when they realized he wasn’t Rory. He shifted back into his fox form, Isuma squeaking soft protest as he suddenly shrank beneath her. She tumbled into the hay, then blinked big, owl eyes around the barn, the only light from the faint glow of the luxere outside filtering through knotholes in the siding. Jigano nudged her gently with his nose to make sure she was unhurt, then let her take ahold of his tail with her beak as he put his nose down and led the way back to a stall with a familiar horsey smell. Talys was there, calm and warm and unbothered by the little vulpine visitor. With a soft, grateful whine Jigano tucked himself and his companion into the clean straw in a corner of the stall facing inwards, curling himself protectively around Isuma and keeping his ears perked up and straining for whatever was going on outside the barn.
Long Night had fallen.
