The War for Eventyr

4 | One Day

His tail swished across red and yellow leaves. The beginnings of the winter's chill nibbled on Trygve's perked ears, but he was determined not to miss a single word.

The first fox had a graying muzzle to top his sandy-furred face. His dark lips parted. "I think it's time we address the real reason we've gathered here."

There were murmurs from the audience. The other two elders nodded in agreement.

A tod with a clay-colored pelt stepped forward, standing on one of three rocks that formed a crescent shape at the back of the clearing. "Our territory is closest to the Shadowborn's borders." Worry reared its head in his tone, a tell of his inexperience. He paced on his stone platform, the left-most and lowest to the ground. The tod was the representative for the northern territory of the Leaf Skulk. "We wait in fear for them to gather their forces and break through. To murder my foxen."

"Don't be so dramatic, Thridi." This time, it was a vixen. Trygve beamed as her darkened features curved into a calm smile. Even with her age, her face held a striking elegance, covered in deep, raven-toned fur. The space beneath her nose looked as if it had been dipped in snow, while silver dappled her back like ripples in a lake.

"The Shadowborn have shown no intention of harming us," she said. "They seem more preoccupied with fighting the Flame Skulk."

Thridi huffed. "That's easy for you to say when our land provides a shield around yours."

"He makes a point," the old tod, Jafenhar, said from his place on the boulder to the right, the second-highest emerging from the earth. "You act as if we still live in the Glacial Period." Clearing his throat and glancing at the audience––foxes gathered in the empty space across from their rocky pedestals––his eyes focused on Trygve. "If the other Skulks have returned to fighting, it won't be long before we're forced to do the same. To protect ourselves and our young."

Trygve couldn't help but side with him, even if he resented being called young. He was old enough to hear news of the conflict between the other skulks of Eventyr. To know that the war could make its way to their tree-lined border.

Beste, or Har––as she was known in the Council––sighed. "I do know what the war will take from us." Seated on her rock in the middle, one that rose higher from the ground than her two peers, she too cocked her head at Trygve. "I don't wish to send my foxen to die in some fruitless fight when we want nothing but peace."

Jafenhar and Thridi, both ranks below his grandmother, hadn't experienced the first war like she had. But all of them were learned in the horrors of the last conflict Eventyr faced, an age-long battle that their skulk was only dragged into with reluctance. The hostility had never really died, but nearly a decade was allowed to pass in relative peace, the Glacial Period, before the Flame Skulk shattered it once more. The first massacre of the Shadowborn happened just a couple winters ago, before his birth.

He'd been taught since his eyes had opened to fear any fox with fire or ice for fur. Trygve shifted on his paws, thinking about what it would mean to fight.

"We have time to think about this, not just rush in with a blind lust for violence. It will be months before the Flameborn ever hope to conquer the Shadow Skulk. Their only way to reach us is through them." Her eyes flicked between her fellow elders. "Perhaps we can form some kind of treaty with the Shadow Queen. We won't harm them, they won't harm us."

Thridi snorted. "You really think that rat-brained vixen will agree? We all know she only cares for herself." He took a prideful stride to the edge of his perch. "And then what do you suggest for when the Flameborn do kill them all? It's inevitable. They'll die first, and we won't even stand half a chance."