Fox O' Nine Tales: Larissa Of Foxwood

Chapter Three: Timothy Arrives in Foxwood

A Fox O'Nine Tale

By R.W. Slavin

Book One: Larissa of Foxwood

Chapter Three:  Timothy Arrives in Foxwood   

     Timothy gasped for breath and crawled deeper into the rubbery green fronds of the strange vegetation, deeper into the covering darkness and away from the hunters.  His heart was beating so fast he feared it would explode at any moment.  His head was so dizzy from fear and exhaustion that he knew it wouldn't be much longer before he blacked out.  And then the monsters would have him!

     Again came the sound of the thundering hooves of his pursuers' horses.  Timothy flattened himself out on the cool mud beneath the close canopy of dense leaves.  He tried to control his heaving breathing and his urge to retch.  He could now hear the hunters' horses trampling the forest brush nearby.  The hunters knew he was somewhere in the thickets of this dense grove.  It's just a matter of time, he thought. I'm so doomed.  He could hear the hunters shouting to each other.  Their throaty voices where deep and gravelly and boomed like cannon.

     "I tell you I saw the intruder and it's no Visitor!  It's a boy!  A live boy from the Other Side!  Several sprites witnessed him fall from the sky and they'll confirm that it's a boy we're looking for, Commander!"

     "Sprites will confirm any nonsense out of pure mischief, Lieutenant!  And if there's a boy stupid enough to come spying in Foxwood, he'd be the first - and he'll be the last!  Boy, beast or demon, it's no matter to me what manner of fool this intruder is! Whatever's loose in this wood had better be noosed, bagged and ready to be turned over to the Council of Princesses by sundown!  Or it's your head, Lieutenant!"

     "Aye, aye, Sir!"

     Timothy could hear the hunters' horses snorting and their heavy hooves stamping at the brush as the hunters closed in on him, getting closer and closer to his hiding place.  He could hear the hunters whacking and jabbing at the brush with long spear-like pikes.

     The hunters were now so close that Timothy could hear them coughing and breathing heavily.  They sounded as tired of chasing as Timothy was of being chased.  Through a gap in the leaves and vines, Timothy could see a bit of the clearing just in front of his hiding place.  A lone shaft of sunlight in the otherwise dim and dark forest illuminated one particular spot quite well.  Two of the mounted hunters stopped their steeds in the very spot and proceeded to consult with each other.

     Timothy finally had his first clear look at his pursuers.

     Werewolves! his brain screamed.  Werewolves on horses!  But then again, not really werewolves, either.  Maybe something worse!  They talked to each other just like men and they stood upright just like men.  He could also make out that their faces were somewhat human beneath the dark black and grey fur and glowing yellow wolf eyes, and their massive clawed paws were very much like human hands. They wore clothes like men - but the sort of clothes that men wore when they wanted to frighten and intimidate other men.  Lots of black leather.  Black leather thigh-high riding boots and black leather breeches held up with thick black leather belts.  They also wore long black leather riding coats that reached all the way to the ground when they dismounted from their horses. There were ornate sheathed daggers adorning their belts.  There were big black bullwhips coiled at the ready on their midnight-black stallions' saddles.  Their dark silky tunics under their coats bore strange insignia as if denoting ranks and honors.  Timothy figured they must be military soldiers, or some sort of secret police force or security guards.  Maybe they were the world's baddest motorcycle gang - just on horseback.