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I pull the hood of my cloak over my head, trying to shield myself from the icy droplets.
The wind picks up and Mal stops. He lifts his head to the sky, his nostrils flaring as he scents the area around us. “The storm is getting worse. We need to find shelter.”
The rain pours down around us in an unrelenting deluge, drenching us to the bone as we continue through the woods. I shiver as the cold wind whips around us. Closing my eyes, I try to imagine myself in a nice warm bed, with a roaring fire nearby.
Mal stops abruptly, and I open my eyes. “What is—” I start to ask, but the words die in my throat when I notice a small cottage up ahead, nestled amongst the trees. One of the windows is boarded up, and the door is slightly ajar, creaking ominously in the wind.
“It looks abandoned,” I tell him. “But… something doesn’t quite seem right.”
“I agree,”he replies.“But we do not have a choice. You cannot stay out in this weather.”
“I’ll be fine.”
He turns back to me.“We cannot risk you falling ill.”I start to protest, but stop when he adds. “I have not forgotten how sick you were that time we stayed out in the rain when we were younger. You nearly died then, Luna.”
Despite my reservations, we make our way towards the cottage, drawn by the promise of shelter from the storm. When we reach the entrance, Mal stops just outside the door.“Wait here,”he says.“I will go inside first.”
Quietly, I slide off his back and wait on the porch as he goes inside. A low growl stops my heart.“Run!”Mal’s voice cries out in my head.“Now!”
Fear tightens my chest, but I refuse to leave him. I glance inside, and my jaw drops. Directly across from him is a red fox. But this is no ordinary creature. It’s much larger than any fox I’ve ever seen. It’s as big as Mal.
Its mouth is curled back in a vicious snarl, its fur bristling with anger. They circle each other, fangs bared and claws extended, each waiting for the other to make the first move.
I search the porch for any sort of weapon, but the only thing nearby is a wooden broom. Bracing it on the ground between the steps and the porch, I snap the straw brush from the base, leaving me with a makeshift spear. It’s not much, but it is better than nothing, and I refuse to leave Mal here to fight alone.
I glance in through a hole in the boarded window. The fox’s back is to the door. This is my chance. Steeling myself, I draw in a deep breath and rush through the entry. The fox spins at the last moment with a terrifying growl.
His eyes widen as they meet mine, and he rolls away from my attack, shifting instantly into his two-legged form before slamming against the wall.
Mal transforms immediately and pulls me behind him, growling low in his throat.
“Wait!” The Fox-Shifter raises his hands out in mock surrender. “I mean you no harm.” His reflective orange eyes darts to me, nostrils flaring slightly. “Of course, you are territorial. You are defending your mate,” he tells Mal. “I did not understand your aggression, but I understand it now.”
Slowly, he stands. Like Mal, he conjures the appearance of clothing. He’s dressed in brown trousers with a matching coat, that does little to hide the lean, but powerful form beneath. He has a long, fluffy red tail with a white tip. Two tufted red fox ears stick up from his matching, short red hair. He has a sharp square jaw with an aristocratic nose and brow. He studies Mal warily as he carefully lowers his hands. “You are Prince Malak of Winterhold, are you not?” he asks.
Instead of answering, Mal levels a dark glare at him and growls.
The Fox Shifter flashes a friendly smile and makes a slight bow, waving his hand with an exaggerated flourish as he does so. “I am Prince Renard of Cambryn, but you may call me Ren.”
Mal raises his head slightly and sniffs at the air. “You were in the cave a few nights ago. I recognize your scent. What are you doing here?”
“The same as you, I suspect.” He gestures to the door and the storm outside. “Taking shelter. This place looked abandoned, and”—he looks around the space—“a bit creepy, but I did not have much of a choice if I wanted to get out of the rain.”
The interior of the cottage dark and musty. Cobwebs line the ceilings and windows and the wooden floor could use a good sweep, but at least it’s dry and somewhat warm in here. A small bed sits in the far corner with a dust-covered blanket and two wooden rocking chairs are set before the fireplace. Across the room is a small kitchen with a hand water pump that I hope is functioning and a few rows of shelves on either side of the counter, along the wall. They are stacked with a few bowls and cups.
I wonder why these things got left behind. It’s obvious whoever lived here did not have much, so it’s strange that the few possessions they did have, they chose to leave behind.
Mal takes a threatening step toward Renard, interrupting my thoughts. He scents the air. “Why are youhere: in this forest,” he snarls.
“Calm yourself,” Renard says. “I am no threat to you or your mate, Prince Malak.” He straightens. “I am here because I am on a quest.”
“What sort of quest?” Mal presses.
Instead of answering, he gestures to the fireplace. “Perhaps we should start a fire and then we can exchange stories.” His eyes sweep to me. “Your mate is human, and you know they do not do well in the cold like this.” He dips his chin in slight greeting. “Forgive me. I did not ask your name.”
Mal growls. “Donottalk to her.”
“It’s all right, Mal.” I rest a hand on his back and then move to his side. “My name is Luna.”
