Chapter 3

It would seem that the snowy kitsune, Trace, had spoken louder than she had intended. Her conversation with the two human princes was overheard by everyone in the room. Philip, the head priest of the present temple, looked over at her, in reaction. Despite also being a follower of the Light, he had never agreed with the popular understanding of their readings. Philip, originally a missionary paladin, had come into contact with a multitude of races over the years.

While he would agree that so-called demons had the potential to harm humans – as they were more often naturally gifted – they were no different than anyone else. Their culture differed, but that was primarily because all demons could use magic, while only one in ten-thousand humans could say the same. With such a naturally overabundance of mana in their bodies, they were naturally physically stronger too. It was the combination of the two that had initially created the divide – jealousy turned into fear, and fear into hate, over the years.

The priest had a look of pity in his eyes, while the cardinal of the light shared none of his sympathy for her. With a click of his tongue, and a clear aura of distaste, he shouted back his own beliefs on the matter. "Silence demon, this is a house of worship of the light. It is only a matter of time before the watcher's mistake is wiped clean!"

In one furry ear and out the other, as she turned her head to the side, cheeks puffed up, in a juvenile act of defiance. He had only paraphrased a line they had often used, so she was only behaving as childish as she thought he was acting.

Not wanting to keep their attention focused on her direction, she walked back out the way she originally came in. A few steps down the hall, with her dragonkin shadow in toe, she stopped after a flash of inspiration. Remembering her snack bag that she had left behind earlier, she looked back towards the room, where there was currently a wall, and then looked up, in the general direction of where it was. With a clap, followed by a wide and mischievous grin, she continued walking again.

A few seconds later, and only a few more feet down the hall, she heard the echo of something hitting the ground, and a few shocked shrieks. Much happier now, she skipped her way towards the exit. She decided, on a whim, that their meeting could be delayed.

She had known Jay, the really tall and lanky hero, since childhood. He was moody, but he meant well. Derik, the shorter one, the soldier, had not even met her yet at his current age. Most of all though, despite having played it off earlier, she was actually in a fairly pissy mood again. Only a few had said something hateful today, which was record breaking in a way, but human cities kept her on edge, even when no one said anything cross to her.

Deciding to try and start up a conversation, rather than sulk, she spoke to the man following her around. "So, how did a reclusive dragonkin end up in service to the church?" Glancing over her shoulder, and between strands of hair, she did not stop walking.

He chuckled a little, before he reached up and removed his helmet. "Figures I couldn't hide from that nose."

'Oh, a bronze?'

"I thought your kind went extinct?" Genuine shock was apparent on her face. Metallic dragons, and their dragonkin, had all disappeared, the last she had heard. To see one here, at a temple, a temple of the light even, was surprising in its own right.

He smiled in reply, at first. His smile gave away his age. Deep set dimples and wrinkles formed with his smile. "Father Philip has been a close friend of mine for years. He asked me to keep an eye out for you, while you were on holy grounds today." He stopped talking only long enough for Trace to nod in response before he continued. "Not that he was worried about you doing something, but the opposite. Zealots will be zealots, you know." With a shrug, and a smirk of understanding, he ended there.

They chit-chatted a little more as they walked, finally stopping at the exit to the temple, where they gave their goodbyes. The fox-demon was pleasantly surprised to see a dragonkin befriend a human priest. Dragonkin, like their fore-fathers, placed pride and honor above all else – for one of them to befriend a human meant that Philip had done something to prove himself, in their eyes. It made her feel, more and more, like she was judging her old acquaintance too harshly.

He was a human, yes, but simply being one did not imply that he was hateful. Her thinking along those lines made her no different than the human zealots, a habit that she wanted, dearly, to change. It was the ignorant sheep among their population that made life difficult. Hunters that were licensed by a guild never bothered with her, being as worldly as they were. Poachers, on the other hand, only cared about money, and remained willfully ignorant to the plight of demons and demi-humans. They were, technically, illegal entities, but if a demon ever killed one of them in defense, they were lambasted as a human killer, and chased down with a warrant now in hand.

The whole thing gave her a headache like no other. Seeing a restaurant nearby, she stopped in. Thankfully, the human behind the bar only gave her a curious glance, before taking her simple order of a glass of wine. Producing a small pile of papers, seemingly out of nowhere, she glanced through them while she sipped on her dark red, and rather fruity, wine. In silent amusement, she was looking over old poacher's warrants of herself. The sloppy drawings looked so unlike her, that she was at a loss for how they had ever recognized her, in the first place.

Only one of them was a true hunter's warrant, but it was about forty to forty-five years old. It was actually Philip that had originally come looking for her, back then, on trumped up theft charges. She had in fact stolen from nearby farmers, on quite a few occasions, during a particularly bad winter – wildlife had become scarce, to non-existent, making finding food rather difficult. It had only been a few months, at that point, since she had gained her third tail, and with it, a humanoid body that she could change into.

Things were so much different back then. She was only ever concerned with food, and a safe place to sleep. Predator animals were wise enough to leave her alone, so her only concerns were people, who often had an issue with leaving things alone when they saw a pretty thing – living or inanimate.

The fox reminisced, as she swirled the red liquid within her glass. While she was lost in thought, though, a familiar telepath joined her at the bar. Not wanting his appearance to re-sully her mood, again, she gulped down the glass that she was originally nursing, and immediately ordered another.

The stranger put down a shiny golden coin, with a slip of paper. After looking it over, the barkeep left, returned with an unopened bottle of red wine, placed it on an odd-looking coaster, and then walked off.

Recognizing what was going on, she drained half of her glass, before hiding her collection away and turning in her stool to face the man, with right arm relaxed on the counter, holding the glass of what was left of her wine. He did not say anything at first, only turning to look her in the eyes. A run-in-the-mill darkling, the most common and populous race among demons, and if not for Trace's nose, his disguise would have been perfect – but, then again, she was not the one that he was hiding from.

Finally, having decided to speak, the youthfulness of the darkling's voice was surprising, but not odd. Demons generally reached adulthood earlier than humans did but aged more slowly after that.

"A calling has been given. The leaders ask that all elders at least make an appearance. Better that, than having enemies on both sides." She had not noticed before, but the boy reeked of fear. That was to be expected, though, as he had just threatened what he considered to be an elder kitsune. Trace did not take it to heart, as they had to phrase it that way, or she would never go.

A calling, quite simply, was a meeting of the bigwigs. None of them, herself included, considered Trace to actually be an elder – it was only their way of showing respect. A little strange, in the choice of words, but they meant well, otherwise. While she would have liked to throttle the people responsible for always inviting her, they were genuinely trying to give her an option of where to live. They were only used to having to rely on heavy handed methods – she had never met a strong demon that was not also headstrong before. So, it was either that, or an empty conference.

Everything was give-and-take in their world, so, when she opened the bottle of wine, he left with her answer. Not a gift, but a bribe, and one that she more than happily planned on putting to good use.

"Shit…" Cursing under her breath, she now had two things on her agenda. The conference, and then she needed to track down the idiot kobold that had requisitioned the bracelet used to assassinate a queen.

She had half a mind to turn the moron in, but stilled lips served better to keep a secret. That was probably the most jarring difference since her human days. Killing had become easy, and maybe a little too easy. Not just in the physical sense, but rather, the mentality needed for it. Trace had been in more confrontations than the kitsune cared to actually count, and she was the one still standing – the fox meant to keep it that way too.

It was going to be a long night now, and she was no longer in the mood to meet friends of the past. They could wait, or they could not. Either way, as long as they stayed alive, she would always have other chances. She could only hope that she had left a deep enough impression to keep them from being indoctrinated into the light faith's anti-demon beliefs.