The Lost Fox

Chapter One

Chapter One

            “Silence… Patience… Unity. Concentrate on your energy. Focus... You are a protector, a warrior. It is important that you fight for fellow warriors; it is more important that you fight for what is right.”

            Senkulpa breathed in, slow and deep.

            “Quieter, daughter. You must be as silent as the wind – as silent as silence itself.”

            Another breath escaped her lips. Senkulpa’s body shook with fatigue, tired of standing on her precarious perch. The tips of her toes, numbed from the constant pressure of her own body weight, swayed slightly, threatening to fall off the edges of the slim, five inch wide pole. Her whole body shifted before she took another deep breath and held it, regaining control.

            A stick slapped down on her bare toes and Senkulpa squeaked, startled. “Stay focused!” her mother bellowed. “I will not accept anything less than perfect from you!”

            “Mother!” Senkulpa whined loudly. Another smack of the stick on her sore appendages made her groan loudly.

            “Hush,” her mother growled, “and concentrate!”

            Defeated, Senkulpa huffed and took a deep breath, once more sending her mind into a sedated state. She clasped her hands together to stay balanced on her one foot, envisioning her mother circling her with disapproval etched on her face. At this thought, she straightened her back and attempted to remain still. Concentrate, she thought. Stay completely still. Stay still…

            A gust of wind blew, throwing her slightly off balance, resulting in another loud smack of the stick against her skin.

            “Ow! Mother!” Senkulpa yelped.

            “Focus!”

            “Madam Shrinely!”

            Senkulpa’s mother wheeled on her heels to watch the long, slender man dressed in black approach her with his arms behind his back. His hair was as black as night, sleeked back with gel. His clothing was short and well fit, and his facial features presented himself as one that is respectable. As the man was well kept and adequately dressed in slacks and a blazer, Senkulpa greeted him with a brief bow of the head, and then returned to balancing. Shrinely, however, did not bow- she did not have to.

            “I see you and your daughter are working on inner strength?” the man observed.

            “Good ‘morrow, Anthony,” Shrinely greeted, seemingly ignorant of his observation. “What brings you here to the fields?”

            With a slight bow of the head, Anthony placed his hand in front of himself in a fanciful manner. “I am here to report to you a message, m’lady.” With a practiced hand, he reached into his jacket’s pocket and removed a small slip of paper no larger than a finger, extending his arm out to Shrinely. She took the paper delicately in one hand and opened the tiny letter. Senkulpa could not help but peer down at the paper, but by the time she had read the first words her mother quickly folded the sheet back into the small rectangle it had arrived in.