Writing 2014-02-14

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A vulpine voice says, “Please, take your hands off of him.”  It is a firm command, although polite.  A dog fox with extremely dark fur has come out of the forest, led by the vixen who first brought Larrikan here.  He continues, “If our young man here has done something wrong, we shall discipline him, but please, take your hands off of him and leave that to us.”

Coldwillow is startled by this firm tone from one of the usually Shy Folk, and does let go of Larrikan’s shoulders, and steps back.  She says, “He hasn’t done anything wrong.  He asked a simple question, and I cast a spell to find out.  It is very good news!”

At the words “a spell” the ears of both the newly arrived foxes go back, and the vixen tries to hide behind her Elder.  He almost immediately gets his ears back up, a forced change of look to hide or downplay his fear.  He says to Coldwillow, “I am Wyllow of the Mountain Climbers by the Dark Red Fur.  I apologize for any misbehavior on the part of our young fox, and hope you will be merciful and spare him the curse.”  He looks quite sincere as he says this.

Coldwillow replies, “There is no curse.  Larrikan asked me if he could do magic.  I told him we could teach him, if he has the ability and can stay and study for the six years.”

“If he isn’t cursed,” asks Wyllow, “what is the spell you cast about?”

“That was to plumb his magical ability,” explains Coldwillow.

“Shy folk are not wizards,” Wyllow says, “so I would be surprised if he had any such ability.”

Coldwillow crosses her arms and defiantly tells the Elder fox, “Larrikan has plenty of magical potential.  With training, he absolutely can be a wizard.”  She adds, “It would be a shame if that potential was wasted.”

Another fox arrives.  Iorwen, having heard that an Elder was off rescuing Larrikan, followed.  She hears this last from Coldwillow and says, “Oh, no.”  She looks distraught at this news.

Larrikan, on the other hand, is thrilled.  His face lights up, suffused with joy.  He says, “Really?  I can b?  What do I need to do?  When may I start?”

Wyllow says, “Hush, foolish boy!  You can’t stay here for six years!”  He looks to Iorwen, and says, “Iorwen, he’s one of yours.  Can you talk some sense into him?”

Iorwen introduces herself to Coldwillow and Ragna, “I am Iorwen of the Swift Folk by the Black Fur, and this one’s grandmother.”  She looks imploringly at Coldwillow and asks, “Did you mean what you just said?”

 

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