How to Catch a Fox (Ban X Reader)

A Sea of Black

The pleading persisted from beyond the house; more voices fed into the unsettling chorus. All the yelping and bawling shook you to the core. You were petrified, blood thundering in your ears like a runaway train. Internally, you were seized with a sickening panic. Your mind raged on, your eyes darted all round, your lips quivered uncontrollably, and then... calm. A wave of realization washed over you and with it came peace. You were trained for this.  

With a deep inhale you regained some stability. Moving one wooden limb after another, you armed yourself with your bow from off a small table near the couch. After bundling all your arrows in their quiver, a golden gleam caught your eye. 

You peered down at the ornate locket. The treasured accessory had been tossed onto a side-table with little care. Something terribly wrong must have happened for Cohen to abandon this.  

His words bobbed to the surface, above your other tumultuous, raucous thoughts.

You don't have to worry about this bag of bones. I can take care of myself.

He was beyond capable of caring for himself, yet you could not help but worry for Cohen. After all, he was the the bravest man in all of Bramstow, not to mention the most stubborn. He was your beloved guardian and teacher who, moments ago, dived head-first into danger. How could you not worry?

You reached for a weathered brown pouch that was hanging on the wall. After slinging it across your torso, you proceeded to plop the precious amulet inside.

I've made up my mind. I refuse to leave Coco out there.

Approaching the front door, a shaky gulp of air rattled your body. You slid an arrow out of its quiver and nocked it onto the bow string.  Tentatively, you gripped the door handle. Then, taking one more breath, you twisted it.

Within a few seconds of opening the door, you recoiled from the strange odor in the air. A scent so familiar... the scent of burning. A sea of smoke and ash raged on the other side of the doorway. Faint lights, most likely the fires themselves, pulsed inside the black haze. The sounds of terror rang in your ears; villagers sobbed and pleaded to the goddesses for mercy. 

 You retrieved a stained cloth from the dangling pouch and dunked it into a rain barrel. It still reeked of oil and dirt, but it would serve to guard your mouth and nose from the hazardous environment,  hopefully.  

Having had discovered the true urgency of the situation, you had only one option. You plunged into the thick of things.

First, a blast of intense, unwavering heat slammed into you. Then, within a few moments, flecks of ash began to coat your face. The jagged, grainy particles harassed your senses and robbed you of your sight. Tears began to gush down your cheeks, serving to deteriorate your vision further. Eventually, you were reduced to groping along the narrow streets.

Frantic survivors sprinted past you, loping in the opposite direction of the pandemonium. Some thrashed at others wildly with only self-preservation in mind.

As you ventured deeper into the destruction, visibility dwindled down to a horrid state. Your already diminished sight was restricted to a pathetic twelve to thirteen inches in front of you. 

Smack!

A tinge of pain coursed through your arm. You had collided with something large and sturdy, possibly a building. It was a convincing wall; that was, until you placed a hand on it to support you while you compose yourself. Whatever it was, it was smooth, almost sculpted...