Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 80829 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 404(@200wpm)___ 323(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80829 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 404(@200wpm)___ 323(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
A low snarl rumbled in Bear’s mouth.
“Shh,” I told her.
Was this a pet? A guard dog equivalent? If so, what was it guarding? There was nothing in the room.
The creature’s ears had ragged edges as if something was violently torn out of them. Dried blood caked on the rims. Whatever it was, it hadn’t been treated well.
I flexed. The beast was alive and breathing, but my talent didn’t tell me anything more and the gem stayed silent, too.
I took a careful step forward. Another.
The animal lay still. That wasn’t normal. It had to have heard me. Those ears weren’t just for show. It was deliberately choosing to ignore my approach.
Another step.
One more.
The fox-thing lunged at me. It was lightning fast, but I expected it and shied away. Dark claws raked the air an inch in front of me, so close they fanned my face. The collar jerked the fox back.
Bear shot forward.
“Stop!”
Bear halted.
“Back!”
Bear snarled, clicking her teeth, but didn’t move forward.
The fox bared sharp fangs, the chain on its collar taut.
“Back, Bear.”
The shepherd backpedaled until she was one step behind me.
“Good girl. Sit.”
Bear sat, but she really didn’t want to.
The fox creature retreated to the wall and crouched. It walked on two feet and when it lowered itself, it didn’t sit on its haunches. It crouched like a person, like someone used to bipedal locomotion.
A caravan of raccoon-foxes, donkeys, some alien being wrapped in rags, bemoaning its fate… I’d seen its kind before in a vision. Their fur was of a different color, and they wore clothes, but the resemblance was unmistakable. Same species. The leave-you-in-financial-ruin guys.
The fox-thing watched me with big golden eyes. It would be adorably cute, if it wasn’t in such a terrible state. Blood had dried into crust on its chest. Long scars covered its arms. Something or more likely someone had either beaten or tortured it.
The room was empty except for the dying light and the prisoner. No water. No food. No containers indicating that any of that was ever delivered. The fox was chained here and left to die.
And it could see the way out. The light illuminated the passageway behind me. There was no door on the cell. It looked like the exit out was right there, just a few yards away. The fox would watch the light on the wall as it wavered and grew dimmer and dimmer and realize it was a metaphor for its life. Soon the light would die, leaving the cell in the dark, and the fox would die with it, fading from hunger and thirst.
If the fox-creature did somehow break the cord and rush out, thinking it was free, it would run straight into a barrier which would leave it in agony. Once the pain subsided, it would realize that an invisible wall blocked its escape, a wall that could only be opened from the outside. It would see the dial, but it could never touch it.
This was a human level of cruelty. Killing it would have been more humane.
“Can you understand me?”
The fox stared at me, its eyes hot with menace.
For all I knew, it was some kind of criminal sentenced to die in this cell for a horrific killing spree.
I flexed. The fox didn’t glow. It wasn’t toxic, it wasn’t an immediate source of pain or danger the way the barrier was. It didn’t glow red like the hunter I had glimpsed. It simply was.
I took an empty canteen from my waist, pulled the full one off as well, and poured about a third of our total water supply into the first canteen. The fox watched me with an almost feverish focus. I screwed the lids back on, reattached the fuller bottle to my belt, and held the other one in front of me.
“Water.”
I tossed the canteen to the fox. It snatched it out of the air. Its long fingers twisted the lid with practiced dexterity, and the fox drank in long greedy gulps. It emptied the canteen and stared at me.
Whatever it had done, I couldn’t leave it here to die.
I pointed at the metal cord and shaped my sword into a short thick cleaver.
The fox bared its sharp fangs again.
I waited.
Two burning eyes glaring at me with fierce intensity.
“I don’t want to kill you.”
I pointed at the cord again, made a chopping motion with my cleaver, and took a step back with my hands up.
The fox rose and padded to the opposite wall, stretching the metal cord as far as it would go. Okay. The ball was in my court.
I walked to the bracket securing the cord to the wall. It didn’t seem particularly sturdy, as if whoever put it in place wanted the prisoner to break free. Otherwise, why even bother with the barrier? The cord itself seemed light and felt like a meld of plastic and metal.