the fox

the writing prompt:

a dying fire

red hair in messy braids

a gray fox with silver eyes

She sits by the dying fire, the crackling of the dry wood making a soft white noise that is helping to distract her from the previous night, -- though the ale helps too. She takes another long swig from her canteen, the amber liquid flowing hotly down her throat, spreading throughout her chest and nestling itself deeply in her stomach. The woods are quiet today, the greens of the trees and the grass shine brightly in the early morning sun, there's a soft breeze whispering to her, lulling her to take another drink, to go to sleep, to go back.

She shake's her head, her red hair chaotic in her messy braids, framing her freckled starred face. She takes a deep breath and looks down at her hands, ruby crusted underneath her fingernails, she can still smell the copper undertones in her nose, she is sure that will be stained in her mind for the rest of her days. Another drink, another sigh, she stretches at her legs, covered in her dark pants, mud and life splattered. The ends fraying just above her boots, echoing the memories of her pants. Her cut off shirt -- white linen sticks uncomfortably to her skin, it's not that hot out she thinks -- maybe she is catching a fever, it would be the karmaic right thing, for her to die in the woods alone of some unknown illness. She hears rustling in the bushes across from her, she stiffens and then relaxes, thinking whatever is hiding in their will be welcome relief. She is counting down the seconds until they find out and her life is cut short in the span of a sword arc. A gray fox, it's coat glinting in the sun, steps forward, it's head cocked to the side, it's silver eyes - so clear they almost look clear are locked on her. She can't help but stare back, thinking of the beauty of the creature and the freedom it must have.

The fox pats over closer, standing right across from the fire, it's eyes dancing within the soft flames. Her breath hitches as she starts to see images from her life dance waltz in the oranges and yellows. Her family, her sisters, her lovers, her deeds, all twirling together into a great crescendo that leaves her feeling sick. She growls at the stupid animal, wondering if the ale had started it's desired affects. The fox cocks it's head to the side more and continues to watch her, the stare boring into her soul, her chest starting to ache in a way that has her heart racing as well as her mind. Without realizing she feels the hot streaks of tears start to make their way down her cheeks, dripping silently off her chin, her body starts to heave as she silently sobs, replaying the moments she saw in the fire with vivid intensity. She can't help that sob that climbs up her throat and rips out into the silence of the day. Her hands are gripping her thighs, knuckles white and scarred.

Guilt is swallowing her alive and she is choking on it, she can't breathe. Her body is on fire and her only witness to her pain is the fox, it's eyes still glued on her, unblinking and still. She takes a few deep breathes, feeling as if she can't get enough, she starts to feel light headed and pain starts to blossom behind her eyes, which she has wrenched shut, but when she opens them again, the fox is seated right in front of her, it's snout almost touching her nose. She jolts slightly but doesn't move, as if she is cemented in her own personal hell. The burning is more intense now, she is sure that her skin is starting to flake off in crisp pieces, her red hair fading naturally into the flames that are consuming her. The tears are have soaked the front of her shirt and her ribs are starting to hurt from her trying to heave in enough air to keep breathing.

"What do you want" she whispers, her throat dry and her voice sounding like gravel.

The fox continues it's staring, its shoulders slightly moving up and down as it continues to breathe. In the moments that she is sure her life will end right her in this forest, the fire will die and so will she, she locks her eyes on the fox once more, seeing herself perfectly reflected in its gray orbs.

"You are forgiven" the voice is soft and melodic -- neither the high pitch of a female or the deep grumbling of a man. The fox leans in and softly touches it's cold and damp snout to her nose and in that moment the hell that has been the last few minutes is over.

A wave of cold relief washes over her and she takes as many deep breaths as she can to fill her previously fried lungs. She stares at the creature in front of her, blinking once before reopening and seeing she is alone. She looks around and see's nothing but the woods, the grass, the leaves, the tree's slightly swaying in the wind, no footprints dot the path from which the creature came.

She sit's back and stares into the fire.

***

author's note:

another writing prompt for fun! This one came as I was writing it, I had no idea where this story was going but I think the background that was born behind it was exciting to think of as I continued to type of my keyboard. Some kind of mythology -- this fox god creature visiting this woman who has obviously done something awful and absolving her through a penance like fire inside of her. This would be a fun mythology to write and one that I may venture back to.