The Old Man

Evrah's eyes fluttered as she woke from a hard sleep. The smell of damp grass in her nose. She moved and stretched, only to be nuzzled a bit tighter. She opened her eyes fully and gazed around. Bright red copper fur surrounded her, holding her close and keeping her safe.

She noticed her clothes were dry and the patches of mud and grime erased from her skin.

She placed her palm over her face and sighed, Oh, good grief, this thing didn't wash me like a puppy, did she?

Propping herself up on one elbow, she took in her surroundings, trying to figure out where she had been taken. It looked as though they were hidden deep in the underbrush of Widowwoods, just outside Forrest Keep. Next to one of Foxfire's boat-sized feet sat a wash bucket and a cloth, and Evrah sighed with relief.

There was no fire, or any other trace they were there. Other than the forest noise, and the old man snoring, she was confident they were indeed hidden away. She slid her gaze to the sleeping old man, wondering if he could be trusted. He was a stranger for sure and this mountainous beast curled around her, seemed non-lethal at the moment but could she trust it?

Her anxiety about it was kicking in and she needed to move. She slowly untangled herself free of fur and up on her feet. Once she was upright, she stretched her sore muscles and glanced around. The scene behind the sleeping beast was just as it was in front of her. Tangled brambles of brush and weeds. She began to wonder how they got in here. She and the old man were small enough to climb through the gauntlet of tangled vines, but Foxfire? How did they manage to get her in here and that there would be enough room for her? She was bigger than most standard war horses.

Evarh didn't get the chance to ponder this for too long as the old man announced his alertness and nearly scared the skin right off her bones.

“Good morning, Evrah. Did you sleep well?”

She jumped and crossed her hand over her racing heart, taking just a second to compose herself.

“Good lord, Old man, you nearly gave a heart attack.”

She watched the old man stumble onto his feet, his old age slowing him down. She could tell by watching his minor struggle that the ground was kinder to her than to him. She took a step forward intent on helping him and he waved her off.

“Thank you, Evrah, but I've got it. My muscles are just a bit stiff.”

Once he was on his feet and more stable, Evrah took a step back and gave him some room.

She gave him a moment to stretch and to get his full focus before she began her conversation.

“So, Old Man, we need to talk.”

“Yes, we do, Evrah...” he pointed sternly at her with his finger, “...First, my name is Albian Keystone, not Old Man. You may call me Albian, Mr. Keystone, or just Keystone if you like, but you will not call me Old Man. Understood?”

She glared at him a moment, ashamed at how disrespectful it had sounded, and shook her head yes,

“Albian, I apologize but I didn't remember your name and this has been quite unsettling, to put it mildly. I still don't even know if I can trust you.”