The Fox Tail Dance, chapter 1 (Patreon)

That night, a guest from far away flew to Maylud, a tiny town at the foot of the Green Hills. It was a wind spirit: cool, small and mischievous. Like a sly fox, it glided along city streets, winding between houses with sloping roofs. It swayed on stretched ropes adorned with flags as it passed the marketplace. However, it got bored soon; yawned, and soared into the sky. With a whizz, the wind plopped back down on a sprawling raspberry bush in someone's garden. It rocketed up and flew down the shirt collar of a guard dozing on the bench. The guard shivered and turned up his collar.

The first rays of the sun made their way through the predawn darkness, and the roosters began singing their morning songs at the top of their voices. The town inhabitants woke up and fussed with their routines. The wind watched them curiously. It saw an old but agile woman hang freshly washed linen. The wind blew, and the clotheslines whirled madly. Several clothespins jumped from the snow white shirt like grasshoppers. The wind groaned and rushed away hurried by the old woman's curses. At the brewer's house, it picked up the aroma of smoked fish and spread it around the neighborhood, raising alarm among the local cats. The brewer's sons, twin brothers, stopped eating their morning porridge and rushed to the yard to catch the feline ones without regard to their mother who shouted her disapproval.

The spirit grew bored with the little town and continued its journey.

On gaining momentum, it was carried away to the sight of the stream shining in the distance and didn’t notice how it bumped into a house fence at the edge of the forest. The cottage, though small, looked very cozy. Smoke gently curled from its chimney,  and it was surrounded by tall white birches and flowered bushes. A girl played with a long stick nearby. She had long white hair, brown fox ears, a fluffy long tail, and bright blue and amber eyes. The spirit was intrigued by her strange appearance.

“A girl of the Kettu people among humans?” the wind wondered. That was seldom seen as the Kettu often kept to themselves, rarely dealing with outsiders.

The house door cracked open and a tall rugged-looking man emerged. He had fiery red hair tied back in a messy ponytail, and a thick beard that covered most of his jawline. He had neither fox ears nor a tail, so he was a human. He wore a tattered leather vest and trousers paired with sturdy boots suitable for trekking through the woods. He had a bow hanging on his back, and a quiver with arrows on his belt, a hunter then. Despite his rough exterior, his piercing blue eyes held a gentle warmth.

“I'll be back in an hour, Losse. You are in charge,” he said in a deliberately serious tone.

“Okay, pa! Sir Wilin and I have important things to do,” the girl answered without looking up from her game.

“When you do your important things, stay close to the house, okay?”

The father waved his hand to Losse with a smile and headed to the woods.

The girl continued to play, enthusiastically discussing the ‘important things’ with her imaginary friend. The spirit was full of curiosity, so it crept closer to the Kettu girl. It circled around her to make sure there was nobody else nearby and messed up her hair.

"Hey, who are you? Stop touching my pigtails!" The girl put her hands on her hips and stamped her foot, only to notice a strange spirit hovering behind her. Taken aback, the spirit recoiled at her sudden outburst and swiftly sped away, without daring to look back.

Somewhere deep in the forest, among crooked trees reaching sunlight, an old shaman walked. He frowned, adding wrinkles to his face already shriveled by sunrays during his trip. Occasionally, he swore and adjusted the hood that kept slipping off, revealing his tangled, gray hair underneath. All of a sudden, the shaman froze and noisily inhaled the air through his nostrils. He grinned, exposing his sharp teeth and darted forward like a released spring, trying to grab something only he could see. His clawed fingers cut through the air and, in a moment, something began to beat in the shaman’s clenched fist. The elements rebelled: the wind groaned and tried to strip the old man's cloak, but it only tore off the roots and bones that adorned it. Triumphantly, the shaman reached for his enchanted bag, when suddenly a stray oak leaf hit him right in the eye. The spirit felt the shaman release his grip, and it slipped away from his hand. Having avoided being trapped in the bag, it swooped to the old man's feet and deftly slipped past them. Seeing the wind spirit flying away, the old man howled like a goat-troll.

“Sir Wilin, keep up with me, we have a difficult task to solve! ” Losse ordered in a ringing voice. She confidently walked along the path that led to the Hill of Memory. People visited this sacred place on Memorial Day to remember their dead loved ones. The girl meant business walking there.

“A dragon!” she cried loudly. “We have to kill the dragon. And I'm not kidding, Sir Wilin. City residents will pay a reasonable price for it, I bet! Its nest is on the hill! We’ll do it quickly and come back for our money”.

Climbing up the steep stone stairs to the top of the hill, Losse shielded her eyes against the bright sun. As she reached the summit, she took in the view: from one side of the hill, a steep slope led down to a rocky precipice, while on the other side, a verdant valley stretched out before her. The clearing on the hill was completely covered with sunrise flowers, their sweet aroma attracting bees and butterflies. Losse couldn't resist the temptation to lean over the flowers, pulling her ears back as she inhaled the scent of the multicolored blossoms. A smile spread across her face, and her freckled cheeks flushed with pleasure.

“We are not here to smell the flowers!“ Losse came to her senses. “Go ahead! There can be no retreat!” said she menacingly and brandished a branch with a leaf at its end.

And the imaginary battle began. Losse said an ornate magic word, frowning her brows, and adding:

“Let the power of wild magic fall upon you!”

A sweeping blow on the grass. Bang! Tail left, tail right. A lunge, a clumsy turn. Another lunge. Ears upright, a weaving tail. Dancing this way, the Losse and the dragon continued their fight. One couldn’t understand whether she had a sword in her hand or a magic staff. The girl fought with dedication and, in a couple of minutes, rejoiced.

“Victory!” Her voice rose to a shriek. It became so loud that a shiver ran down her spine. She rubbed her shoulders with her palms and laughed.

“Victory!” She repeated softly and confidently and then set off for the stairs in triumph.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, a barely noticeable flickering mass of energy jumped out into the clearing, radiating and pulsing cold blues and grays.

Flying up to Losse, the clot took the appearance of a wild animal - a bizarre crossbreed of a ferret and a fox.

“It's you again! ”exclaimed the girl. The spirit immediately hid behind her.

“Are you afraid of me?” Losse spinned on the spot, trying to see the coward better.

“Stop it, I say! I'm Losse, and who are you?”

A sharp male voice interrupted the introduction process.

“That’s my breakfast!" shouted the shaman with a gravelly voice.

The shaman climbed up the hill. Crushing the delicate sunrise flowers on his way, he approached the girl.

Losse froze and looked at the shaman with a tight breath in her throat. .

"Get out of here, half-breed, while you're still in one piece."

Losse looked at the trembling spirit and, working up the courage, blurted out:

"I’ll cover up for you."

She held her stick out in front of her. Her feet seemed to be rooted firmly in the ground, but her outstretched hand trembled from the effort. Losse felt scared but tried to hide it with her defiant pose. A sudden gust of wind ripped a single leaf from her stick, carrying it off into the abyss. The girl's heart raced as she nervously swallowed the lump in her throat.

The old man laughed. In a flash, he approached her. Losse latched onto the branch with another hand, shut her eyes tightly, and thrust the stick into the shaman's stomach with all her might. The shaman made a wry face, snatched the branch from the girl's hand, and it crunched in his paw.

“Such impudence! I'll teach you manners!”

He approached the girl so close that she could hear him breathing. Losse moved back. The spirit was in despair. It thrashed behind the girl’s back, ruffled up her dress hem, pulled her pigtails. She was standing on the edge of a cliff.

"Maybe I should eat you too?" The shaman clattered his teeth. In her fear Losse took another step back and did not feel the ground under her feet. Tears glistened in her eyes. She sighed. Cold air enveloped her body. The wind blew strongly, keeping the girl aloft with its strong air currents. As they tore the ribbons off the girl's pigtails, her hair was whipping across her face. One would think that the girl would scream at the top of her lungs, but Losse seemed to lose her tongue. The shaman heard someone's voice and looked around.

"Losse! Losse, where are you?”

“Pa... Papa!” Losse screamed in despair.

The shaman screwed up his face and grabbed the girl by the hair. With a sharp jerk, he pulled her out of the abyss and threw her to the ground.

When her father appeared on the hill, Losse burst into tears. The red-haired swiftly notched an arrow and aimed it steadily at the shaman.

"Elster? What have you done to her?”

"Well, well, well! Father has arrived just in time," exclaimed the shaman, pretending to be surprised. "Your daughter, Bilron, nearly fell off the cliff. I quickly pulled her up," he lied, a sly smile creeping across his face.

Bilron looked at his daughter.

“Is it true, Losse?”
The girl sniffled. She was at a loss for words because the old man had saved her life indeed.

“Answer when asked!” Father said sternly.

Losse nodded in reply.

Bilron lowered his bow and approached his daughter.

Extending his hand to her, he sighed heavily.

“I keep telling you to stay close to the house. You have disobeyed me again.”

“Pa, this old man was about to eat the spirit! I wanted to save it, but he…he broke my staff!”

Father's eyes narrowed as he looked around, but he couldn't see any spirit.

"There is no spirit here, child. You should not be wandering so far from home. And your staff can be mended, but your disobedience cannot be so easily overlooked," he replied sternly.

Losse jabbered hesitantly.

“Your daughter is a dreamer!” The shaman chuckled.

“But, pa! Sir Wilin and I... ”

“Enough!” Bilron interrupted Losse.

Resentment caused the girl to shrink in herself and withdraw her hand from her father's. The spirit flew up to her and blanketed her neck like a collar. Losse looked at it and cried again.

“I owe you, Elster.” Sighed Bilron.

The shaman shrugged his shoulders and headed into the woods.

“I’ll remember that, Bilron. You should remember it, too.”

As Losse and Bilron made their way back home, Losse couldn't shake the feeling of sadness. Suddenly, she felt a soft touch on her shoulder, and a gentle voice said, "Dry your tears, little one. I am still with you," the spirit comforted her.

Losse turned to see the blue spirit behind her and smiled, whispering, "Sir Wilin, we must not stray so far from home. Pa will be angry."

Bilron overheard and added, "I won't always be there to protect you."

Losse nodded and replied, "I promise I won't go near the cliffs again. I know I need to be more careful."

Bilron reached out and gave Losse a reassuring pat on the head, saying, "That's a good promise to make," with a smile.