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I've been bad.

Not in that things I've done have been particularly awful, but specifically I mean I've been bad about writing and uploading. Really bad, and it's sucked. So I'm trying to rectify that right now and better my circumstances as an author in doing so. I've got things in the works that I'd like to spend time doing, but I'm all over the place this year and it's very hard to dedicate myself to my writing. Pushing past it is taxing me in ways I just generally can't handle presently.

But that doesn't mean I should just post nothing, and so I introduce you to a new little side story to the Blood and Water series titled From Humble Beginnings. In this three-part series, you'll have an opportunity to see Oswell at his most original state. Young, inexperienced and on the run, this is a chance to observe the magi before he became the character you know and... I want to say hate? In the Blood and Water series. Oswell's one of my favourite characters, so exploring this aspect of him has been a lot of fun. And since I've not put anything out in a while and I did have this mostly-finished piece just sitting here, I thought, "What the hell?"

So I hope you enjoy this first look into Oswell's past in Solace, and I hope you'll come back next week for part two. Be well!

• Master Meridian

Blood And Water: From Humble Beginnings

Solace

The floor was no more comfortable the sixth night Oswell had slept on it, and morning came almost as a welcome reprieve.

The young fox sighed as he stared up at the roof above him. It wasn't as bad as it could have been, of course. He'd slept in the streets, much colder and more dangerous than any home. He'd slept in barns, relatively comfortable so long as his presence wasn't discovered. He'd been terrified the first time he'd scaled a tree to sleep in what safety the boughs could provide him.

There was no heat that issued from the fireplace nearby. The coals were cold, their light and heat extinguished at some point during the night. Oswell tugged the quilt he'd been given about himself all the tighter and thanked whatever gods were watching that he even had that much. Perhaps he held the Mistress of Fate's favor after all. He'd started to wonder.

A glance across the room and through the window there afforded a view of a pre-dawn street still lit by the glow of oil street lamps. The fox sighed and rubbed at his face with one paw as the other kept the quilt wrapped about himself. Arhas was the largest town he dared to remain in for any length of time, but the fox scowled at the window nonetheless. The port town's guards like to patrol at night. It would only take one aware soul to look through the window while the fireplace had been lit, and...

Oswell sighed again and forced the thought form his head. To dwell on that would do the fox no favors. He looked around the room again as he reluctantly forced the quilt off his body and stood. The cold air -- though not as cold as outside, he noted as his waking eyes focused enough to catch the fall of small snowflakes beyond the window -- set him right away to shivering.

If nothing else, the cold gave Oswell enough impetus to dress quickly. The tunic he pulled on wasn't that warm, but the thick pants and cloak he tugged over himself next helped to stall out any more shivers. He rubbed at his arms before he pulled on boots and gloves, and sighed once more as he pulled the cloak's hood over his head. The trip to his benefactor's workplace was short, but in the middle of winter it was more than Oswell wanted to chance. Gods knew he didn't want to catch a cold... or be caught, for that matter..

As he dropped his arms back to his side, the fox glanced down at one paw. He flexed his fingers within the gloves there in an attempt to force more warmth into the digits, only for his ears to perk at the sound of a slammed door elsewhere in the house. Oswell whirled toward the nearest door as he straightened himself up. His benefactor would expect him ready to go not a minute later than he himself was.

He only had to patiently wait for another minute before the burly rabbit entered his sight. Taller than the fox by a whole head, he was dressed in equally warm garb as he lifted a lantern to shed light across Oswell. "You're up earlier than I thought," he said with a smile. His voice practically boomed in the formerly-silent room.

Oswell forced a little smile as he drew himself up a little taller. "I think I'm finally getting used to waking up as early as you," he replied with a nod. The language, its words still foreign on his tongue, came more slowly than the rabbit's. "We heading out in a moment?"

The rabbit laughed and shook his head. "I've worked you six days straight, fox. I reckon it's time you took a day of rest. Besides, today's a special day for Talmarukans."

The fox tried to hide a frown as he fought to think. Talmaruk was an odd kingdom. Their traditions and ways were foreign to him -- not to mention that quaint language he'd had to learn over the last few months -- which is what had made it such an enticing place to hide out for so long. Try as he might though, Oswell couldn't bring to mind any memory of what could have been so special about that day in particular. "Special how?" he asked at last.

Again the rabbit smiled as he stepped forward and wrapped one meaty arm around the teenage fox's shoulders. "It's the anniversary of the Battle of Talencia, boy!" he boomed with a grin. "I guess they don't teach you much history wherever you came from, huh?"

The fox just cleared his throat and glanced back toward the window. He hoped the pang of pain hadn't shown on his face. "My father had little time to teach me history, Soren," he replied at last. "And my mother... well, you know how that turned out."

"Ah... yeah. Sorry, kid. Forgot about all that for a second." Soren squeezed the fox gently before he pulled his arm away and waved him toward the door. "I know the parents are a sore subject for you, but for what it's worth? You seem like a good boy, and you've been the best helper I could have asked for. You were raised well." His smile was a little sadder in the wake of the unpleasant subject he'd brought up. "Let me treat you to a nice day out for the festivities, alright? You deserve it."

Oswell tried to stop the wince from spreading across his face, but he wasn't certain that he caught it. He caught the flicker of sensation from the rabbit and swore internally to himself. "Out in that cold and snow?" he asked with as wry a smile as he could manage. "Are you trying to give me a sniffly nose?"

One of the rabbit's ears drooped as the other perked and swiveled toward the window. "You're dressed to be plenty warm," Soren pointed out, his voice suddenly distracted. "Any particular reason you don't wanna go out there besides the cold?"

Oswell knew he couldn't simply give the honest, full truth. Soren had been good to him, and the fox hadn't needed to press too hard to receive that treatment. The rabbit had helped him out of a desire to help, and with no thought of reward or recompense. That would change if he discovered the truth. "Your Talmaruk winters are just too cold for my taste," he settled on with a shrug.

It was clear that the rabbit didn't believe that to be the end of it, and he shrugged as he stepped back again from Oswell. "Well, it's your call, kid. The bakery's all closed up for the festivities today and I'm gonna be out at them, so if you're wanting food? You might want to come along."

The words woke a rumble in Oswell's stomach loud enough to draw a smile across Soren's face. Both of Oswell's ears flattened as he pressed a paw to his gut. Risk it all for some pastries and bread? Surely he could go without food for one day. It wouldn't be the first time.

But a glance at Soren's face slowed the protests that rose in Oswell's throat. The smile on the rabbit's face was warm. Inviting. It was friendly, even. That he didn't know the truth didn't make that any less valid to Oswell. The lies kept the rabbit safe as much as Oswell himself. "You're not going to let me stay, are you?" he asked.

Again came the boom of the rabbit's laughter as he shook his head firmly. "Not even a chance, kid," Soren replied as he waved toward the door. "Now get your tail moving. We're gonna miss the show!"

The smile on Oswell's muzzle as he nodded and followed Soren was entirely for the rabbit's benefit. Inwardly, the fox felt his heart sink. The trip from Soren's home to work was short. Chance of discovery was minimal. To be outside, and then to stay outside in the midst of a crowd that would no doubt include the town guard? That was trouble.

But at least he waited until Soren looked away before he let the smile slip.

At a guess, the sun was only a few minutes from the horizon when Oswell had followed Soren out into the crisp morning air. He'd tugged his cloak tighter around himself to fend off the cold even as he'd glared at the light snowfalls. The streets were already full of the stuff. Oswell didn't want or need to see any more.

The amount of people that he'd come across as they headed to whatever 'festivities' Soren had meant had honestly surprised Oswell. It seemed like the hundreds and hundreds of people that called the port town home had all woken before the dawn in the middle of the winter just to head to it. The fox suspected that it was either a very fun event, or they somehow felt obligated.

Eventually, halfway from the home to the town square, Oswell ran out of patience. "Excuse me for asking," he spoke up, and he paused until Soren turned toward him with a quizzical expression. "But what exactly is this all about?"

It looked for a second as though Soren was surprised that Oswell even had to ask the question, but then he smiled back down at the young fox. "Like I said, it's the anniversary of the Battle of Talencia," he answered. The rabbit paused for a moment before he pointed up and to the west. "See, there?"

Oswell turned, and could only see the mountain that he knew that the town backed up onto. "Mount Skarag?" he asked, and hoped that he'd not just butchered the pronunciation. Talmarukan language was so strange.

He must have mangled it anyway though, because Soren nodded even as he laughed again. "Yeah, Skarag. On the other side of the mountain is Holdus, then there's plains for miles... and then the ruins of the old capital city. Talencia was the heart and soul of Talmaruk, kid. Probably the busiest place in the whole kingdom right now, too."

"And it was destroyed in this battle?" Oswell cocked his head. Why would they celebrate the anniversary of their capital city's razing?

"Well, a cabal of magi took up residence in the city," Soren explained, and Oswell was glad that the rabbit's eyes turned forward as he spoke. He'd failed to catch the way Oswell had flinched at the word 'magi.' "Back then, Talmaruk loved magi. They helped with the crops and weather, they protected the people... life was good for everyone with magic on our sides.

"But these magi weren't the good kind that Talmaruk had gotten used to. They were necromancers. Dealt in all sorts of demonic magic." Soren shook his head as a note of bitterness entered his tone. "Anyway, they took the royal family hostage. The king, his sons and his daughter were all ritually sacrificed inside the city's defaced temple to the Lord of Justice."

Oswell shivered in a way that he could easily have put down to cold. That was how it always was. That was how everyone viewed magi. "But not the queen?" he asked.

Soren glanced down at the smaller fox with surprise as he smirked. "Nah, not her. They wanted the king's bloodline. Something about some powerful magic in his blood. Anyway, she managed to escape while the palace was raided." His expression soured again. "They used that magic in their blood to rip a hole in the world. It led to the hells, and to the domain of the demonlord they called Despair.

"They came pouring through. More demons than anyone could count. They broke through the temple walls and lay siege to the whole city." Soren shook his head. "It was a slaughter, kid. Absolute slaughter. There was nothing that could stop them. Even the magi who summoned them got tore up."

Warnings about infernal magic and demons from years ago flitted through Oswell's mind as he shuddered and nodded. "Demons don't have friends and allies in the mortal world," he mumbled from memory in his native tongue. "They have slaves and they have prey, and anyone who thinks otherwise is a fool." He blinked as he glanced up at a confused Soren. "Just remembering something my father once told me," he explained, once more in the Talmarukan tongue.

The rabbit nodded. "Well anyway, they'd taken the whole city in the space of a single day. No one could stop them. Despair's demons just kept coming, more and more and more of them. They'd been unstoppable before, but every minute saw more of them come charging through that hole in the world." He began to smile. "But before word of the invasion had even reached the rest of Talmaruk, warriors arrived.

"They only ever said that the Lord of Justice told them that they were needed, so no one knows how they knew about the invasion. Doesn't matter much how they heard, because a hundred justicars from the Vendir Kingdom just walked into Talencia with swords and spears and took the whole city back. Well," he added with a chuckle, "what was left of the city, after the demons got to it."

The clang of metal on metal rung out in the cold morning air as Oswell perked his ears up beneath his hood. "They nearly all died, of course," Soren continued as the crowd around the pair began to thicken. "Didn't matter, though. They cut down the demons for hours before they fell. Every time a new demon stepped out of the hole, the justicars were there to send it back to the hells. 'Course, that wouldn't matter except they also did something to seal up the hole, too. Saved all of Talmaruk that day, they did... then they returned to their ships and headed back to their Vendir brothers. We learned of the gods the Vendir revered and the demons they stood against all at the same time. A reckoning for all Talmaruk, that was."

It was no wonder that the people were so fond of the holiday, Oswell mused. A religious order didn't just save a kingdom and leave without making an impact on the local culture. "And what happened to the queen?" he asked.

"Hmm? Oh, she lived," Soren replied. He almost seemed surprised that Oswell had asked. "She was pregnant at the time, so the royal advisors took over Talmaruk's court duties until after she gave birth. Everyone was hoping for a son to carry on the king's line." He began to laugh as he shook his head. "But too bad. She birthed a daughter. The royal line's done that ever since, actually. Every ruler's a queen. Lots of people think it's the magi at work. I say it's just luck."

Oswell nodded and forced another smile as he stared forward. It was impossible to see where the noise ahead came from, but it certainly sounded like the sparring of warriors. "And what's happening up there?" he asked as he spared a glance around. With the crowd so thick it was unlikely that anyone would spot and recognize him, but one could never be too careful.

Soren chuckled. "It's a reenactment of the battle," he replied as he squeezed Oswell's shoulder. "Every year the temple's justicars put on the show. Some dress up as the demons, and others wear the old, traditional armors they used to wear back then. I've seen better performances, but we all come out every year to see it." He frowned as he looked about himself. "Or we _would_see it, if there was more room."

The fox glanced around as if to find a way through the crowd. Instead, he scanned those nearby for any potential threats as he pulled his hood down further over his head. With all the bodies that continued to press into the town square, the cold wasn't even quite so bad as it had been when they'd left. Still, he was sure he could blame the cold if Soren asked. It was a better reason than not wanting the town guard less than a foot away to see his face.

He turned around before the swivel of the guard's head could catch Oswell's stare. "Maybe there's a better view somewhere else?" he offered as he nervously tugged the hood down again. Any lower and he'd only inhibit his own vision. "Somewhere higher? Less crowded?"

Before Soren could reply, Oswell felt a firm, gauntleted paw grip at his shoulder. The fox immediately stiffened, and it was only by sheer force of will that he didn't spin to face that paw's owner. "Sir, please turn around," came an unfamiliar male voice.

Oswell's eyes went wide as he hesitated a moment. It was the guard. It had to be. A tingle raced along Oswell's fingers as he forced himself to relax as best he could. If it was just one, that was okay. He could surely handle one. The fox took a deep breath as he slowly turned around to face his assailant.

It was indeed the guard he'd spotted. The helmless lupine soldier stared down at Oswell with a stern frown on his face and his other, gauntleted paw on the sheathed sword at his hip. "Please state your name for me," he instructed.

"What's going on?" Soren asked as he stepped in beside Oswell. "What are you doing?"

The fox gulped and fought to keep his ears from flattening as the paw on his shoulder drew back his hood. "My name is Aldwyn," he replied in as confident a tone as his sloppy Talmarukan speech could allow. "I help Soren at his bakery."

"The kid's a damn good assistant and he's had a rough time of it lately, so back off," grumbled the rabbit as he shoved the armored paw off Oswell's shoulder. "This is a festival, gods all! Let him be!"

The wolf's eyes flicked briefly to Soren before they locked on Oswell's again. "How long as he been assisting you at your bakery, sir?" he asked as his eyes narrowed. "Word reached us of a young magi who matches this Aldwyn's description, and-"

The bark of Soren's laugh cut the guard off as Oswell stared up at his captor. "Magi, now? Gods, listen to you! Aldwyn's got the magical talent of a pot." He nodded toward the fox as he grinned. "Go on, boy. Tell him."

For a moment, Oswell glanced back up at Soren. The rabbit was completely disbelieving and dismissive; his trust in Oswell was absolute. And yet as he kept using the name that Oswell had adopted, the fox felt sick to his stomach. Part of that was fear, but just as much was the betrayal. Soren seemed like a good soul. He'd helped just to help.

This guard, however, would need more... persuasive methods to pacify.

When he turned back to the guard it was with a smile on his face. It perfectly hid the revulsion in his guts. "It's just like he said, sir," he added as he reached out to the guard with his mind. He found the thoughts of the guard as they twisted and writhed within the wolf's mind, and Oswell began to gently uncurl and soothe them. "I'm no magi. I just help in the bakery."

The words were carefully chosen; a lie constructed for his own protection. Talmaruk was unfriendly to magi, which made it an ideal place to hide so long as one wasn't caught. The fox carefully focused on every ebb and twitch to the guard's thoughts and cursed again his incomplete training. He had to be careful -- so very careful -- to avoid any serious damage. The last thing Oswell needed was to become the monster they feared him to be.

But despite those words and efforts, Oswell felt the wolf's mind resist the relaxing impulse that he'd delivered. In fact, the guard's mind only seemed to sharpen in response. To break that would take more effort and be harder to hide from both Soren and the guard himself. "I'll ask you again, boy," he growled as his fingers tightened their grip on his sword. "When did you start helping Soren at his bakery?"

"Just barely a week ago," Soren replied with a roll of his eyes before Oswell could speak. "Now kindly leave the poor boy be."

Dread ran through Oswell as he pulled his thoughts back from the wolf's. He felt the spike of the guard's suspicion at Soren's words. "Please, sir," he said as he lifted both empty paws, "I just want to enjoy the festival before we get back to work tomorrow. I don't want any trouble."

The wolf snorted quietly, and the huff of his breath rapidly cooled as it washed over Oswell's face. "Too late, Aldwyn," he growled as he lifted his head. "Larine? Let the others know Oswell is here and what he's wearing in case he gets away."

Oswell's eyes went wide as he turned to follow the wolf's gaze. He only caught sight for a moment of another guard's armor as she turned and vanished into the gathered crowd. "Please, sir! You've made a mistake!" Oswell pleaded as the guard's paw clamped back down hard on his arm.

"If so, I'll apologize later." The wolf turned toward Soren as the rabbit drew closer and a snarl rumbled in his throat. "Back down, sir. At best, you didn't know you were harboring a rogue magi. At worst..." The guard tilted his head up to stare down his muzzle at Soren. "We wouldn't want anyone to think you were protecting a murderer, would you?"

The rabbit held the guard's gaze without a flinch as Oswell glanced between the two. "That is a good kid there," he said, his voice firm. "He's not the one you're after."

With another snort, the wolf tugged Oswell firmly back the way he'd come. The fox yelped in pain as his arm was wrenched about, but a look back showed that Soren hadn't given chase. His expression had shifted from resolute to concerned as he stared after Oswell. He mouthed the words _don't worry_to the fox, before the crowd swallowed the rabbit up.

And with him gone, there was nothing to hold Oswell back. The fox's eyes narrowed as he set his jaw and stared up at his captor. "Just who do you think I am?" he asked.

"The rogue magi known as Oswell," replied the guard. He almost sounded bored now that he had the fox in his custody. Had he been spoiling for a fight? "If you're not him, fox, you look just like him."

As he was pulled through the ocean of warmly-dressed people, Oswell let his mind focus on worming back into the guard's thoughts. He could feel the wolf's satisfaction at a job well done, and just the tiniest mote of concern that he might have been wrong after all. Good, Oswell thought to himself. That would make him more pliant. He could try again. "You said this Oswell was a murderer."

The wolf nodded as he made for the edge of the crowd and the street that lay just beyond. From his travels, Oswell knew that the road led toward the town's prison. "A mother and her two cubs," the guard answered. His voice snapped with the words, and Oswell could feel a spark of anger that melded with a sense of dread.

So he was angry about the deaths, but he feared magic. That was something he could work with. "And how do you know Oswell did this?" he asked as he tugged back a little at the guard. Unfortunately, his grip was perfect. "How do you know I'm him?"

Frustration began to tinge the wolf's thoughts as he sighed. "Because he was spotted by a witness. Now be silent until we arrive. No more questions out of you."

"No. No more questions." Oswell frowned as he reached out and into the wolf's mind. Forcing himself into another person's mind was easy enough, but dangerous. He knew in theory he could take the guard's mind completely over, but such a thing would probably kill him. Even the level of control the fox prepared to exert was dangerous, in multiple ways...

But there was little choice; he would just have to minimize any harm to the innocent guard. He threaded his thoughts up and out of himself until they began to mingle with those of the lupine above him. He stood stock still as the guard turned to face him, and Oswell held the wolf's irritated glare as he probed his thoughts deep into the guard's core. The wolf's eyes began to glaze over somewhat as Oswell's will shrouded his own. "You're not sure I'm the one you want."

The words sank into the haze within the wolf's mind. They permeated slowly and dripped down through his thoughts, and the fox could feel the guard's frustration and paranoia relax. "I... no," he quietly mumbled after a moment. "No, I guess not."

With a quick tug of his arm, Oswell shook himself free of the guard's gauntleted paw. "You'd probably better tell the others, too," he added as he took a step back from the wolf. "Soren was pretty upset that-"

"Hey!"

The shout turned both Oswell's and the guard's heads. Another town guard, this time with a full helm that obscured their face, shouldered roughly through the crowd as they -- a she, by the voice -- pointed at the young fox. "What're you doing? We've gotta take him in!"

Oswell froze instantly with fear as he locked his eyes on the new guard. Anger and focus boiled off her in equal measure; there was no way he'd have the same success influencing her as the wolf. "We've got the wrong fox," he lazily replied over Oswell's shoulder.

"The hells we do! Look at him!" She grew closer and closer as Oswell tried his best to keep his eyes locked on her. The people all around them had begun to turn toward the commotion, but there was a long, empty street behind him if he needed to run. "Take a good look! He matches the description given perfectly! How do you know he hasn't played with your head?"

The fox could feel it, of course. The logic and reason that the other guard had brought to bear had begun to erode the fog he'd planted in the wolf's mind. His thoughts and eyes began to sharpen as Oswell took the barest step to his side. There was an alley there. If he could just-

"Don't even think about it, kit!" snarled the female guard. Her paw dropped to the sword at her side, not yet drawn but with the threat clearly evident. Oswell froze up again for a moment as he felt his tenuous influence over the wolf begin to fray...

Then he heard the wolf draw his sword, and the fox broke into a run.

He heard the calls behind for him to stop and surrender, but Oswell knew that was no option. He dashed into the alley and swept an arm up even as he stretched out with his powers. Behind him, the snow that had settled in the street swept up in a sudden, magic-fueled draft. The powder obscured the guard's vision as Oswell shot around a corner and away from her.

The fox didn't stop once he was around the corner. He leaned forward as his tail lashed under his thick coat. A chilling gust of headwind knocked his hood back as he turned his head from it with a quiet growl. Once again he was glad he'd not chosen to hide out in the even-more frigid Kashirad, even as he lamented not having gone somewhere warmer in the winter.

As he came out the other end of the alley though, Oswell almost ran right into the backside of another guard. He hastily skidded to a halt on the icy ground and raised his paws. The guard, perhaps alerted to the sound of his quick breaths and the heavy tromping of his boots began to turn, and Oswell's eyes went wide as he darted to the side.

The guard wasn't fooled, and the helmed head began to turn quickly back the other way toward the fox. With no other option present, Oswell winced and reached out with his mind. He felt the delicate landscape of the guard's thoughts and his surface musings -- who was that? Where'd they go? Threat? Weapon? Assessment? -- as he closed his eyes. "So sorry," he muttered.

Oswell's thoughts sharpened to a spear as they drove forward and interrupted those musings. They disrupted the delicate landscape and ripped a messy hole in the guard's awareness. He felt rather than saw the slackness of the guard's muzzle as it hung open, stunned by the mental blow. Some well-honed instinct brought a gauntlet-clad paw to the hilt of a sword, and the guard even managed to cleanly draw the weapon a moment later.

The momentum from the swing of the guard's arm spun him bodily around as he went limp. Consciousness left him as he fell toward the ground, and Oswell gasped and withdrew himself from his target's mind before he could be dragged down into oblivion's embrace with him. The fox stumbled back a couple of steps as he sniffled in the cold air, before he turned and bolted down the street again.

He'd barely made it a couple of steps before a shout went up behind him, and Oswell cursed inwardly. He'd hoped for at least a minute or so before the guard could be discovered, but it was evidently not quite his day. He lowered his head into the wind and flattened his ears as he pushed his legs to the burning point.

A yelp was torn from his throat as a wooden something whizzed past his head. The arrow buried itself in the door of a nearby building even as another lanced fortuitously between his legs. It missed flesh, fur and clothing by barely an inch, but it was enough to make Oswell jump and lose his footing. The fox scrabbled across the icy ground on all-fours for a moment as he tried to force himself around another corner. For the brief moment that he dared look, he could see the two bow-armed guards that had taken shots at him.

As well as the five more soldiers that had already begun to run up from behind them. The fox cursed aloud that time as he pushed his body upright again. Another arrow glanced off the corner of the building beside him before his mad dash took him out of the guard's line of sight. He had maybe ten seconds before they would follow, and then he'd be lucky if they didn't kill him.

But as his eyes turned forward again, the fox raised both paws with surprise. He slammed into a barrel that only made it up to his waist and gasped as the air was knocked out of him with his impact. Oswell swept it aside with both arms as he stumbled past it and started for the next street. He brushed past a tall, middle-aged wolf with a quick apology as he started to run again.

"Take a left, boy."

Oswell froze in place for a moment as he turned back to the source of the voice. It was the wolf he'd just pushed past who'd spoken, and his muzzle held the ghost of a smile as he looked over the younger fox. He paused for a second to drink in the stranger's appearance; had they met before? The wolf seemed sort of familiar... or was it out-of-place?

There was no time to consider it for very long, though. The guards that had chased Oswell around the corner soon emerged, and he was faced with the choice. To go left would take him on a street back toward the festival, and no doubt toward not just the town guard's forces but also a slew of well-trained justicars. To go right would lead into another alley. Where that alley led Oswell didn't know, but away from trouble was what he needed.

The fox hesitated a second longer to look over the wolf again, but that was all he could spare. Behind the wolf, one of the archers nocked another arrow and aimed it at Oswell. There was no time to decide, and the wolf was just some stranger. Oswell needed to escape. He turned right and ran.

It was barely in time to avoid the loosed arrow; even the wolf had needed to duck to avoid the bolt. It clattered uselessly further down the street as Oswell darted into the alley. He wasn't quite ready for the sharp turn to the right again a short ways in, and the fox grunted as he slammed into the wall. He pushed off as pain lanced up his side, but Oswell put it out of his head as he turned his eyes forward-

-and to the dead end before him.

Those eyes went wide with fear as he shot forward. His gloved paws reached out to the tall wall before him. If he had time he knew he could scale it and make it over, but the fox knew he didn't have that sort of time. He didn't have the arcane strength, training or refinement to use his magic to vault it, or destroy it and pass through. Equally, he knew he couldn't safely subdue seven guards before he would be killed.

Oswell was trapped.

Fear took hold, and the young fox whirled and started back the way he'd come. But it was well and truly too late; no sooner had he made it to the corner again than he almost ran face-first into the nocked arrow of one of the guards. The rest joined that armored figure as Oswell scrabbled backward and away from them until he was pressed right up against the wall that had him trapped. "Wait, please," he tried to say. He was surprised that it came out at all, even so close to an unintelligible squeak as it was.

"Thanks for giving us a reason, Oswell," growled one of the guards behind the archers. At the words, Oswell squeezed his eyes shut and cringed back from the inevitable arrows. His ears flattened as he squeaked once more.

Then came the twang of released bowstrings.