"I am your father!"

"Good morning," the fox murmured, crouching in the drawing room as it savored the steaming bowl of noodles.

"Morn," Jonathan remarked, changing his shoes before entering the house.

"What injury have you sustained?" inquired the fox, setting down his fork to examine Jonathan.

"'I was Stained with the blood of the Sickle Demon," Jonathan replied.

"It was not easy to deal with," the fox expounded, "I was injured by it last time. Small in stature, it moves silently and swiftly. The mature ones bear four sickle-shaped bone blades. Did none in your patrol die?"

"No, the one I encountered had but two blades," Jonathan said, strolling to the sitting room and resting on the sofa.

Over time, the fox had slept in here, forming a small hollow in the sofa and leaving the cushion permanently indented.