Metanoia

Chapter Four

Nael jolted awake, scrambling upright and breathing harshly through his mouth. The fire had long burned out, leaving only embers and soot. He ran a hand through his hair, mussed with sleep and the ends damp with sweat, and tried to piece together the fragments of his fever dreams.

The figure from last night—those violet eyes, vibrant and piercing—lingered in his thoughts. Had it been real? Or was he beginning to lose his mind from exhaustion?

He slowly rose to his feet, his muscles protesting against the movement, and scanned the area. The fox is still curled up beside the remains of the fire, eyes closed, but its ears twitched slightly with Nael's rustling.

“Still here, huh?" Nael huffed before letting out a groan as he stretched.

The fox opened its eyes at the sound, peeking at him. Nael bent down to gather his things slowly, checking once—twice—that he had everything before shouldering the bag.

“Come on, let’s get going.”

The path ended up winding deeper into the forest, and Nael felt like they were just wandering aimlessly at this point. He looked around, his view slightly obscured by a light fog that clung to the trees like cobwebs. Pepper nickered beneath him, and he clicked his tongue, pulling on the reins when it began to diverge from their path.

The fox trotted beside them quietly, still limping, but Nael had checked the wound earlier to make sure it wasn’t infected. Despite its injury, it didn’t slow down and managed to keep pace with them.

“You’re a stubborn thing, aren’t you?" The creature huffed, and Nael couldn’t help but smile in response.

By midday, they came upon an old stone bridge that stretched across a fast-moving river. The structure was crumbling, its stone slick moss and worn smooth by time.

Nael pulled Pepper to a stop a few paces away, eyeing the bridge warily. It didn’t look stable by any means, but the river was too deep to cross on foot, and the current would only sweep them away. Carefully, he led Pepper forward, trying to step on the more steady slabs.

Halfway through, a sharp crack echoed through the silence. Nael froze, his heart beating rapidly as Pepper’s hooves began to sink, the path beneath them crumbling into the water.

“Move!” Nael shouted, urging the horse forward. Pepper clambered for leverage, lunging onto the far bank just as a section of the bridge gave way with a deafening splash.

Nael turned back, his breath coming out in gasps. The fox stood on the other side of the river, and for a moment, he thought that it might be trapped. But then it leaped gracefully on the remaining stones, landing beside him without so much as a scratch on its pelt.

“Show off,” Nael muttered, though he couldn’t hide his relief.

They paused for a moment on the far bank, Nael taking a deep breath to steady himself and his pounding heart. From behind them, the river continued to roar, taking with it the remains of the bridge with loud, cracking sounds that finished with a loud splash as the water took it under.

Nael shivered. That could’ve been them.

He looked down at the fox beside him, who seemed unperturbed despite the incident; not so much as a flick of dirt on its silvery pelt. Nael found himself shaking his head, laughing breathlessly despite himself.

They pressed on, the forest growing darker with each passing hour. Ahead of them, the path became twisted with rocks and vines, gnarled roots snaking across the ground in ragged curls. Nael had to pause frequently to cut through the tangled undergrowth with his blade—scouring the ground for traps—before he led them forward.

As evening fell, they stumbled upon a small, abandoned cabin—the wood starting to decay from age. The structure was weathered and overgrown with ivy, its windows cracked and broken.

‘At least it has a roof,’ Nael thought, dismounting.

He tied Pepper to a nearby tree, and approached the shack cautiously, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword just to be safe. The door creaked loudly as he opened the door, and he coughed as puffs of dust blew over his face. The smell hit him first—a mix of mildew and rotting wood, sharp and earthy. Somewhere inside, a faint drip echoed, like water leaking through a crack in the roof.

The fox slipped in behind him as Nael found a lantern, lighting it up, and casting long, dancing shadows on the wall. This way, he could actually see its current state.

The cabin was nearly empty, save for a rickety table and a single chair occupying the main room. A pile of old blankets lay in one corner of the room, and Nael nudged them with his boot, half-expecting for something to skitter out. When nothing did, he sighed and set about making the space as livable as possible for the night.

The next morning, after the best sleep he had in a while, hunger gnawed at Nael's stomach like an insistent itch. Whatever food he had left was barely enough to stave off his growing weakness, and he knew he couldn’t continue without a proper meal.

“Time to find something to eat,” he said, glancing down at the fox. Its ears twitched, and it slowly rose to its feet to follow after him as he headed out the door and down the bank.

“Fishing might be our best option.” He wasn’t sure why he kept talking to the fox. It wasn’t like it would answer anyway.

Nonetheless, the fox padded beside him, its nose close to the ground as it sniffed along the rocks and reeds. Nael set to work, fashioning a makeshift line with some twine he brought and a bent nail he found in the cabin. He hooked it with the little bit of jerky he had left, then threw the line into the water.

As he stood there waiting, he observed the fox from the corner of his eye. It had waded into the shallows, looking around. Nael frowned, curious about what it was doing.

And then, the fox sprung, splashing water as it plunged its head under the surface. After a while, it emerged with a wriggling fish between its jaws. It strolled back to the bank casually, to where Nael was standing, dropping its catch to the ground with an expression that almost seemed smug.

“Yes, yes. You win,” Nael huffed, chuckling.

By the time they finished and returned to the cabin, it was beginning to get dark outside. Nael had managed to catch two more fish, while the fox added another to their haul. After roasting their catch over the hearth—the smaller ones he left out to dry and preserve—the faint aroma of cooked fish lingered in the air as Nael sat back, content for the first time in days. Nearby, the fox curled into its usual spot, its silvery coat catching the firelight.

As the warmth of the meal settled in his stomach, Nael leaned forward, squinting at the fox’s leg. It had kept pace all day, despite the limp, but he knew better than to assume it wasn’t bothering the animal.

“Let me see that,” he said softly, shuffling over. The fox raised its head, looking warily at Nael. “I’m not going to hurt you. I just want to check.”

The fox held still, its eyes locked on him as he gently lifted the injured leg. The bandage was a tad loose, the edges stained with dirt. Nael frowned, carefully unwrapping it to inspect the wound. It wasn’t infected, but the edges were raw, and the animal flinched slightly under his touch.

“Still looks nasty,” Nael muttered, pulling out his waterskin to rinse it clean. The fox huffed in response, but it didn’t try to pull away.

He worked quickly, tying a fresh strip of cloth around the leg and patting it lightly when he was done. “There. That should hold for a bit.”

The fox blinked at him, its gaze steady, and Nael found himself smiling despite the long day.

“You know,” Nael began, his voice low, “It’s been almost a week, and I’m not even sure if we’re not going in circles, let alone if we’re on the right track.”

The fox, of course, remained silent. Nael sighed, stoking the fire.

“For years, no one expected anything from me, but now...” He trailed off, shaking his head. “Never mind. You wouldn’t understand.”

The fox’s gaze didn’t waver, and for a moment, Nael could have sworn it understood far more than he gave it credit for.

After another moment of silence, disturbed only by the crackle of firelight, he turned to the fox once more. “I’ve been calling you ‘fox’ in my head this whole time, and it’s getting kind of old. Maybe I should name you?” At that, the fox—er, his to-be-named companion perked up.

Nael chuckled softly. “Hm, let’s see. How about Snowy? Snowball? Uh…” Maybe he was seeing things, but the animal’s face almost looked like it was scrunched up with displeasure.

“Then… how about Star?” he offered, nodding to its silvery coat. “Fits, doesn’t it?”

The fox blinked once, then settled its head on its paws, its tail twitching slightly. Nael took that as agreement.

"Alright, Star," he said, leaning back against the wall with a smile. "Here’s to hoping you’re good luck.”