Chapter 8

Seeing the fresh crops starting to be brought in for the end of fall reminded Trace that she needed to head to the Capalitin Mountains, almost directly south of where she was now. The calling would not be for another month, but she knew that if she let herself get distracted the fox was bound to forget about it. Even if they had said what they did just to get her attention, they would still follow through, even if only partly, to make a point. What that actually entailed, she had not learned yet. Better to keep that average going than to slip up now though.

Roe, the little human boy that Trace had brought to Ever-frost, with his mother, was looking better and better every day. A healthy tint had already returned to his skin by the time his mother, Lita, awoke.

Because of the average human lifespan, and when they became fertile, humans were considered to have reached adulthood by the age of fifteen. Lita, however, still looked every bit like a child. Her malnourishment during her growing period had stunted her growth. So, despite being seventeen, she looked no older than twelve or thirteen to other humans – it was a miracle that she had not died in childbirth. Trace used more than just her sight to guess her age originally though, her sense of smell aiding quite a bit in that department.

Trace was still a little flustered over having let herself fall asleep, while she was being treated like a stuffed animal. She had, however, felt the girl relax a good deal the moment she was hugged by her. Trace had been reacting to Lita's emotional state and had not realized it. It was only a little, but the fox had imprinted onto the girl for some reason.

Initially just wandering around, Trace found herself at her own doorstep. Pulling a keyring out of thin air, she held it up as she stared at her front door. She could never remember which one was for which door. Trace had been home so seldomly that this had become a game practically every time that she returned. She could just mark it, in some way, and get it over with that way, but where was the fun in that.

Making her first guess, she threw her arms up in success as she heard the lock click open. "Yes!" Pushing the door open, or trying to, she stopped when it butted up against something, only leaving a gap much too small for her to squeeze through. With her short-lived victory, she felt a wave of dejavu as she made her way around to the back door.

Even with one of her five keys already being known, it took to the last key to get it right this time. Now feeling a little defeated, she eased the door open, which opened all the way on noiseless hinges. She had spent extra money on odd things like that when originally purchasing the building supplies, because, quote, "I don't like the sound those make." Trace made her way through the pathway of stacked boxes and piles of random things that she had gathered up over time. It really was a mess.

Making her way to where she was pretty sure the front door was, she stopped when she came into the foyer. After deciding to deal with that later, she spun on her heel to make her way through and check on the rest of the house. While the first floor was practically a dumping ground for everything that she had seen, and wanted, over the years since her house was built, the second floor was relatively clean. It was dusty, but she would not need to move anything around up there.

After restacking a bunch of crates, she now had a functioning staircase, as the actual one was currently inaccessible. "That'll work." With a nod of satisfaction, she went to leave her house. Miriam, Lita, and Roe, however, were waiting for her at her back door. The old hag had remembered perfectly how cluttered Trace's house was, and she had also remembered that the front door had not been accessible since shortly after her first moving in. The place was a sty, but Trace had only ever really used it for storage.

Ever-frost was her home, but Trace lived on the road. When she came back every few months or so, it was usually to pack something else into her house, and then leave again shortly after. With no attempt ever given at organizing any of her stuff, she had long since forgotten most of her house's contents. All that she really remembered was, 'it looked useful when I found it.'

Frozen stock still, at first, Trace looked from one to the other, ending on Miriam. "Uh, hello?" What were they doing there?

Easing her way out, Trace turned around to lock the door behind her, but was stopped when the old bag cleared her throat with an "Ahem!" It was obviously intended to get the fox's attention. Looking over her shoulder, and not quite wanting to let go of her potential escape route too quickly, she did not push the key in quite yet. "Open up, we're going in."

Turning her head back, so that none of them could see her face, she was panicking. After a nervous laugh, she eased the door open. Attempting, at first, to close it behind her before they could follow, Roe ruined her plans when he ran inside. Trace could have sworn that she felt all the blood in her body drain out, as she just stood there, mouth agape, as the other two, Lita and Miriam, casually followed the boy inside.

While she was not aware of what practically anything in her house did, or what they were intended for anymore, Trace did know that she had more than a few cursed items stowed away – in what was probably not considered a safe storage area. That meaning, they were just as likely to happen across something like that, as they were, say, anything else at all. Her house was a disaster zone of the worst caliber. Any unlucky thief to break in would be at a loss for words with the woman.

"Only the Watcher knows how long it's been since you've ever cleaned this place up." That was rude. Trace remembered exactly when the last time she cleaned up was. Never. Not once in the fifty-odd years that she had owned the house. That being the case, she had no follow up, and just closed the door, now that everyone was inside now.

Miriam made her way over to the windows that she could get to, to open them, allowing the musky place the air out some. Roe kept trying to wander off, but Lita, the girl-mother, kept a hold on his hand. She too, however, was constantly glancing around. The only reason she did not react like her son was because she knew better. Slaves were only to go where they were told, and nowhere else. In reality, of course, things were much safer that way, despite her not being a slave anymore.

Trace had noticed the light enchantment placed on the ankle cuffs that the girl was wearing before, but paid it little mind, as she only intended to rid her of them. That enchantment, originally, allowed her former owner to track her. Old habits, for the girl, stuck around in her mind, however.

Miriam let out sigh after sigh as she walked around, shaking her head from time to time as well. "I was going to say that these two –"

"Don't touch that!" Trace was listening to her, kind of. But she gasped out when she noticed something sticking out of one of her many piles of things that the boy was reaching out for. It was one of the few cursed items that she still remembered the appearance of. Grabbing the necklace, before he could, she slung it across the room, and on top of another such pile.

"What was that about?" With an eyebrow raised, from her being interrupted, she questioned Trace, who seemed to be ignoring that question. After being silently glared at for a moment the fox smiled nervously.

"Nothing! It's fine as long as he doesn't put it on." Feeling like she said all that she needed to on the matter, she started to glance around for anything else that she might recognize. Luckily, or perhaps not, no other such item came to her attention.

With a look caught somewhere between concern and flabbergasted, Miriam did not know how she should approach that. She understood what it was, from the fox's rushed explanation, and that implication worried her more than a little. "Trace, how many more of… those… do you have just lying around?"

"Oh, you know… just a few… here and… There!" What, was the boy drawn to them? Trace could have sworn that she had just looked where he was reaching, but sure enough, luck was not on her side at the moment. Reaching out with a shout, she launched a feathery mask this time, across the room to join the necklace that she threw before.

Miriam had originally come with the kids to tell Trace that she was responsible for them, since she was the one to bring them to Ever-frost. Now, however, the old woman was having doubts on whether or not that was a wise choice. She knew the fox could be trusted to keep them safe, when she was around. It was when she was, inevitably, not around that Miriam was worried about. If she were, quite obviously, keeping cursed objects just lying, then the whole place needed to either be combed through or sectioned off.

While she wanted to scream at the fox, it was not the time nor the place. Besides that, as much as the townspeople had come to trust Trace, none of them had ever chanced actually berating her. They trusted her personality, but not her ability to hold back enough to not kill someone should she momentarily lose control. Miriam knew that because of that the fox had become a little careless in some ways, but what was she to do about that? Despite some of her child-like tendencies, she was definitely not a child by human terms, but rather an elder of sorts – as any human would be lucky to even make it to her age.

The demons that made up the majority of the city's population left her alone, because by their ways, she was the leader of the city. They had all lived by their peoples' older ways, implying that since she was the strongest there that meant that she was in control. While none of them actually pushed that fact, that was what they believed. Rather than rely on her lack of enthusiasm in that area, the city had thrown together a council to oversee everything instead. Miriam, being the oldest human in the city, and definitely the worldliest of the bunch, held a position.

It was because of Miriam's position that she came to be on such easy speaking terms with the fox, in the first place. Trace had been asked, by the council, to check in with the old bag whenever she was in town – as a kind of a forward notice, for any potential trouble.

The two of them had not always been on such informal terms, however. For the longest, Miriam had been scared witless of the kitsune. She had, on more than one occasion, seen what she was capable of, back when she was only an eight-tails. Miriam's fear had not actually faded, but rather she came to see the personality behind the walking force of nature that she could be.

Trace, while she could be very cold, she could also be equally as kind. However, when paired with her curious nature, and her complete inability to keep her nose out of things, it was usually a recipe for inevitable disaster. While Miriam had no doubts in her mind that Trace could save herself, she worried more that the repercussions could one day be big enough that the fox herself, no matter how strong, would not be able to stop it from all sides. No matter who they were, they could not be in all places at all times, and the people capable of following through in such a way all knew where she considered to be her home.

After a heavy sigh, the old woman gave up on Trace looking after the two, at least for the moment that was. "Anyways…" She could feel a headache building the longer that she stayed around the magical minefield that was Trace's home. "I came by to tell you that I was going to be looking after those two."

The fox turned to look at Miriam, as she clapped her hands together and bowed at the same time. "Thank you!" The thought had occurred to Trace, she just was not sure on how to broach the subject. The bag bringing it up herself was perfect.

"However…" There it was… "I will only be looking after them long enough for you to figure something out. I'm too old to keep up with my work now-a-days, much less take care of children too."

Lita had enough presence of mind to understand that they were talking about her son, Roe, and herself. She did not like it. The girl felt that she was burdening the two, which of course, she was. Trace was too kind to actually say it, but Miriam was not. "I can help! Please!"

Both of them, Trace and Miriam, stopped to look at the girl. While Miriam reflexively reached up to massage her forehead, a habit that Trace had adopted, the demon-fox looked to be considering it.