Humankind has long since perished.
But life goes on.
Nature is slowly reclaiming the planet. A fire forces a young red fox named Kip to flee her den for the first time. Now alone and left half-blind, Kip must struggle to find refuge for herself and...
Kip keened loud enough for the sound to be heard over the steady hiss of the rain. She lay, broken and miserable, in the street, and heaved her waterlogged sides. She let out another pained keen again, singing the song of a dying animal—entrancing music to any predator's ears.
She writhed some more, eyes shut tightly but ears always pivoting—always listening. She heard it then—a sound that at first she mistook for her own pulse pounding in her ears. But the closer the sound approached, the more unmistakable it became that it was the rapid beat of giant wings.
Kip yelped and hurried out of the way just as the eagle's daughter landed right where she had lain just a few short heartbeats ago. The eagle's talons ignited sparks as she skidded to a stop on the asphalt. She beat her wings again, altering her course to pursue the fox.
But the dogs that had lain in wait in the shadows were faster.
Kip groomed her drenched fur while the pack swarmed the screaming eagle. When the scuffle ended, they presented the furious young bird—the smallest and frailest of the trio of harpies—to the fox. They held her wings firm in their mouths.
Kip smiled at the bird. She wasn't going to harm her.
...So long as her mother returned Neer alive and well.
🦋🦋🦋
The wind and rain continued through the night, and Kip limped through the storm, bringing an army with her into the city. At her side lumbered the pack leader, Mountain. Together, they had a full pair of eyes between them.
She'd left her daughter to play with the pack's puppies in their den. The precocious young fox had even attempted to spark a conversation with the captured eagle, though, according to Vin, the sullen eagle wasn't much of a talker. Kip just gave her kit a loving lick goodbye and promised her she would be back. And she wholly intended to keep that promise. She hissed at a spasm of pain in her lamed leg. But hopefully after this, she wouldn't need to run anymore. She glowered at the collapsed cathedral the dogs led her to. It had been ancient even in the time of the predecessors. One of the gargoyles lining the spired stone rooftop raised her wings and screamed at the sight of her captured daughter. There was no need for a translator. Any mother could plainly see what was at stake.
A tongue of lightning struck a scraggly skeleton of a tree between the fox and the eagle, setting it ablaze. The dogs all whined and shifted their paws, braced to flee at a moment's notice. But neither the fox nor the eagle flinched.
The eagle took wing and swooped inside the church through the partially caved-in roof.
Kip growled and followed her inside. The interior of the cathedral was mostly dry, spared by the rain. Dry, dusty wooden debris—twigs and branches—littered the floor, as if the eagle had made the entire cathedral her nest. Spires capsized many years before, taking with them portions of the painted ceiling and sections of the stained glass windows that now littered the cracked tile floor like glitter. The glass saints in the windows that still remained watched the one-eyed fox limp down the aisle of the cathedral. Trickles of rain traveled down the glass outside, making the saints weep.
The pews the fox skulked past were thronged with skeletons, either huddled together in groups or laying alone. The fox just flicked her tail at them. Life would go on, as it always did.
"Monster!" Kip called into the church. Her bark echoed from every pulpit. A wail of wind joined her voice, creeping in through little cracks in the building and making the rusted organ pipes along the far wall hum.
And from high in the pulpit, a little silver face peeked out and called, "Mom?"
"Neer," Kip breathed.
A dark shape materialized from the shadows behind her kit. The eagle glared at Kip as she planted a clawed foot atop Neer, silencing him. Hatred glowed in those black eyes of hers like hellfire.
Kip's ears went back. She swept her tail across the floor. At her signal, Mountain hauled in the young eagle, holding her legs in his teeth while she dangled in an undignified manner.
"Let him go," Kip ordered the eagle who clutched her son.
Neer trembled as the beast stroked his fur with her claws, as if she was considering Kip's trade. Finally, her feathery head snapped to attention. She grabbed the kit tight and took off flying toward the dog and the fox. She dropped the kit at Kip's paws before alighting atop one of the partially opened doors of the cathedral and shrieked, waiting for her half of the trade.
"Neerling!" Kip gasped and snuggled into her baby who nuzzled back into her. "Oh, my child. Are you okay? Did she hurt you?"
"I'm okay," Neer said, sighing into her fur. Then he mumbled, "She took my twig, though."
Kip just laughed at that. Then she nodded at the one-eyed dog. The brute released the bird, who plopped on the floor with a squawk before making a break for the open doorway and escaping into the city. The eagle ruffled her feathers and spat at the canine and vulpine trio before pulling the door shut tight behind her and following her daughter outside into the clearing storm.
Kip had never felt lighter. All her aches and pains were miraculously alleviated as she pulled her son into a bone-crushing hug. Her son was here. And he was alive. She groomed Neer unceasingly, despite his complaints. Even the big brutish dog, Mountain, panted and wagged his tail in amusement at the pair.
"Wait!" a small voice cried.
Kip twisted around toward the doorway with a jolt. "Vin?" she exclaimed at the sight of a tiny fox trying to shove her way inside through the heavy door. Of course, the rambunctious kit had followed her. "I heard the eagles talking to each other as they flew away! You need to leave! It's a trap—!"
A scream cut through the air, making everyone duck to the floor. The eagle reappeared above them all in a hole in the ceiling. In her beak, the clever bird carried a flaming branch from the tree lightning struck. Cackling, she tossed the fiery branch down onto the floor of the cathedral.
And Kip recognized then what the litter of wood and twigs she and her family stood upon was.
Kindling.
A pyre.
An explosion of flames engulfed the church.
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