Fox's Den
Chapter 1: Rotting In The Moss
Written by Rem
He knows you’re an odd one when he doesn't need to tempt you into the fog. The moment you see a soft floating light within it, you follow it like a ship towards a lighthouse. At first, he assumed you were just curious — chasing after treasures hidden in his forest. But that clearly isn’t the case. Even in modern times, few ventured into these woods — they were known for taking more lives than they returned. Few who entered were ever found again — and even then, only as remains. News blamed the swamps, predators — though there were hardly any — and the strange mist that refused to lift. The truth was much older than that. Kael devoured those that found their way into his territory. After all humans were meant to worship those stronger than them, and since his worship had dwindled down over the years, he had decided to take what he was owed. Like humans that ate the animals below them, he fed on humans. The circle of life.
Yet rather than devouring, he’s studying the strange human he found. Squatting down over you, one arm propped on his thigh to hold his head as he squints down at your prone form. You had tripped over a root and had not bothered getting up again, opting to instead gaze blankly towards the expanse of trees. The moss under your cheek served as a cold and damp pillow. Kael is sure you don't actually register anything if the dullness of your eyes was anything to guess by.
"Aren't you going to run? Or scream? Or at least plead a little for your life? Or is it simply so meaningless you're going to rot in my woods?" His tone was sharp as his gaze as he poked your cheek with his sharp nail - yet there was no answer at first, no reaction. Not even a twitch. You just breathed quietly, same vacant look in your eyes. Truly, humanity was in a sorry state if his prey no longer bothered acting like prey.
"-me," the words that leave your lips are barely a mumble, to the point where Kael is sure he imagined the sound. Somehow you were quieter than the still forest that surrounded both of you. Still he was sure he had seen your lips move the tiniest bit.
"Would you mind repeating that?" He pokes your cheek harder this time and leans closer. Honestly he wasn't sure why he was bothering. Humans like you never had anything interesting to say. Yet your sorry display intrigued him, like a kitten left out in the rain. Why would you even bother coming to his forest? You were only wearing jeans and a sweatshirt, not even a proper jacket. His usual quarry consisted of hikers with heavy backpacks, and those who came to spend the day. Even they had food with them. You on the other hand had nothing.
"You can just kill me, I won't mind. Maybe I’ll finally be useful," a huff of laughter -if it could be called that- leaves your lips. Bitter and flat. It makes him pause and blink couple of times as he absorbs your words. For a moment, the only sounds are the wind in the leaves and the faint song of a pine warbler. So maybe he had been too hasty in his judgment. This was the first time anyone had tried this tactic to survive.
"Excuse me? You want me to take your life and devour you? Surely you're jesting," yet you don't move a muscle, just stare into the woods. There must be something wrong with you, a sickness in your bones and mind. He had learned that eating sick meat made him sick as well. Those who used substances, or had incurable conditions left a bitter taste on his tongue and only weakened him for a time. He’d have to hunt again soon if he bit into you.
"Just don't care really. Doesn't feel like I'm living anyway," the words are dull as your gaze. He can't remember the last time he was so focused on someone's eyes. It’s like you're already dead, a zombie shambling through life. What a dreadful little creature you must be. A slow, unamused smile stretches his thin lips. Killing you would be kindness, but no one has ever accused Kael of being kind. Such a wretched thing you were. So pathetic it tugged something in his heart. Like seeing a lamb trot to slaughter, ready to let the butcher bleed it dry. But you weren’t a lamb, he thinks, you’re a bird with a broken wing. Something he could fix.
"It's decided then. I'll bring you with me, since you don't care. I'll take care of you, and once you feel better I'll hunt you down properly,” the way he said it was so final. Decision made without asking your opinion, like you were nothing more than a thing. In his eyes that’s what you were. Something he was going to nurture, to get you nice and juicy before feasting on your flesh.
“What?” You sound almost surprised, an actual emotion was coloring your voice. Not the bleak monotone he’d already grown used to. It seems you weren’t quite as broken as he thought. Good, he would be able to hunt you sooner rather than later. Two of you running through these woods as you try to evade his claws and teeth. The adrenaline that would spike the air. It’s enough to make him shiver.
“You. Are. Coming. With. Me,” each word is pronounced carefully, as if he’s speaking to a child or someone very simple, “Since you don’t care what happens, I might as well entertain myself with you — at least until you’re well enough to run,” he could work with that. Humans kept pets they’d eat later all the time. This would be no different. He stands with an exaggerated groan before moving to pick you up and throwing you over his shoulder like sack of potatoes. Soft humming fills the air as he walks, each footstep casual and light through the forest despite your added extra weight. What a fun little project he would have to fill his time.