Vulpine Summer

Fox was familiar with Clockton. He had been born here and his mother died in the hospital giving birth to him. He remembered running about the crooked streets, annoying Cuckoo but those were distant memories. He had been very young when his father had moved him into Lakeside as the Doe wanted him closer and Cuckoo had all the help he needed. So, as Fox moved about the town, warily keeping attention to the people passing him, he had the faint sense of remembered as old memories dusted themselves off and made themselves known. It was the more recent memories that were the most prominent ones however. The times he'd pass through here, the times he'd help out Cuckoo for the Doe, the times he'd have a job here.

He moved through the streets with ease and, while he liked how quiet Clockton was, how few people and cars roamed about, it also made him uneasy. One of the things he loved about Clockton was the quiet, lazy feeling to the place but, when he was on a job or trying to hide a murderess from angry Wizards, he felt too exposed. Too easy to spot. So he kept to the narrow streets and would veer around to go back on himself the moment he saw a Wizard dressed in white, checking the red haired men.

He managed to find a bus stop but without a nice blue bus. He frowned. He'd hoped he wouldn't have to stay put and wait but at least there was an overhanging shrub he could hide under. Maybe the Wizards wouldn't notice him.

Settled beneath the shade, Fox waited. He intended to ask the bus driver what the roads were like and where all the fuss was. Taxi drivers would be better, being far more gossipy, but Clockton had few of those and their routes didn't go nearly as far as buses.

As he sat with his hat pulled over his hair, elderly folk came to stand before the bus sign with the sun rising higher, making his back grow sticky with sweat. It made him want to be back at Cuckoo's. Cuckoo always had the best ice cream and had one of those modern fans that would cool a room down. But no, Fox was stuck out in the glaring sun and boiling heat while his blackmailer Dupont was settled in safety and being cooled in Cuckoo's house.

As Fox grumbled to himself and slowly disliking Dupont even more, the deep rumble of an engine and groaning of gears and steel drew close. Fox raised his head and watched as the blue rusty bus rattled along the narrow cobbled street before screaming to a stop.

The doors slowly opened, letting in the cluster of elderly and a mother with a child on board. Fox stood unhurriedly and dusted off his trousers before stepping forward and hopping onto the bus. It stank inside of hot metal and sweat and didn't have an ounce of respite from the heat, in fact it seemed worse in here.

As the mother took her screaming baby down the isles of mostly empty seats, Fox stepped up to the greying old driver.

'Got some questions.'

'Yeah? Prices are on that board.' The driver gestured to black and white printed paper stuck to the side of his chair.

'More curious if you know about the Wizards. The white ones.'

'What of them?' The driver asked impatiently.

'How far are they out? Seems weird they're so far outside of Lakeside. The murderer was still in the city I thought.'

The driver shrugged. 'Don't know why but they're along my route from Lakeside all the way down to Wilver. See them through every town I go through. Seems they think this murderer has got out of Lakeside.'

'They trackin' transport?'

'Yeah. Check my bus now and then.' The drive peered at Fox. 'Not good with magic?'

Fox laughed. 'No. Trying to keep out of its way. The white ones unnerve me.'

'Don't blame you. Hate them on board but they're looking for that woman who murdered our Grand Wizard. Has to be done. Can't have someone that powerful running about.' The driver said. 'Now are you paying or not?'

Fox shook his head. 'Not if the white ones are coming on.'

'Then get out. Slowing me down.'

Fox bobbed his head, placing a small coin down for wasting the driver's time, and hoped out into the hot but better smelling air. The bus hissed then pulled away, driving off down the lane.

Fox watched it go, feeling a little uncertain about what to do next. He had hoped the Ivory Tower's power would end out here but, while it was thinner, it was still there. He wasn't surprised Wilver was occupied. It, like many large cities, contained a College for Magic, small and less important places for Wizards to live and learn outside the Tower, and had it's own collection of Hunters. However White Wizards were out in every town in between Wilver and Lakeside. It was thirty miles to Wilver so there was no way he was going to walk it. He had hoped he could hop on a bus and hop off near Wilver, avoiding any real dangers. That wasn't going to be the case though. Public transports were going to be monitored.

Fox rubbed the back of his neck in thought. There were other roads to take, it just meant he was going to have to go the long way round to reach the border of the Golddales and the Hornfels. This was going to be tricky and, as much as he didn't want to stay in one place, he needed to wait for information from Elenore. She'll be able to clear a path for him and give him safe houses along the way.

Sighing heavily, Fox turned to head back to Cuckoo's, eager to get out of the sun, but cried out instead when a man was standing right behind him.

Fox took a step back and lowered himself a little in wariness. He hadn't heard the guy come up behind him so he had no idea how long he'd been there. The man himself was a little odd too. He was dressed in a full tweed suit, despite the heat, and his beard covered most of his face. A thick pair of sunglasses prevented his eyes from being seen. Fox didn't like that. Despite the man being right in front of him, the guy was hiding himself.

'Afternoon.' Fox said.

'Ever heard of a man named Absolon?' The man said with a deep voice.

Fox stiffened. Absolon. Dupont's Sprite. 'No, why?' Fox said smoothly.

'He was a great businessman from Emprise du Soliel in the north. Grew rich from nothing, all because he had the knack for fashion. Good man. Died fourteen years back.'

Fox stared at him, not understanding at all what this man was talking about or why, but every inch of him was bristling in warning. The stranger was feeling Fox out, testing him. He had to keep calm.

'Never heard of him. Was a kid when he died.'

'Shame. More people should recall Absolon Dupont.'

There it was again. A jibe. A test. Despite his hidden eyes, Fox knew the man was watching him. Observing him for any twitch in recognition. He couldn't let up he knew both names personally. Fox shrugged.

'I'll remember the name. Got to get goin' now.' Fox said and slipped away, walking away quickly.

He didn't look back, as tempting as it was. He could feel the stranger's eyes searing into his back. He was going to follow. Fox had to lose him.

The moment Fox turned the corner, he had a plan. Running was going to make it obvious the stranger had shaken him. If the stranger was a bounty-hunter, which Fox was now strongly suspecting, he'd have Fox's face. He could spread it if paid the right amount and that could be one of the worst things to happen so early on in his journey to the Hornfells. Fox had to make sure the stranger didn't suspect him. Losing him in a crowd was the first thing to do.

So Fox, feeling like this wasn't worth the risk, marched off towards the town square, where the White Wizards were roaming. It was going to be difficult. He not only had to shake the bounty-hunter but also avoid the Wizards from grabbing him and checking his memories.

'This is going to be tricky.' He thought to himself as he veered sharply down an avenue when a white pointed hat appeared at the top of the street.

Fox slowly made his way through Clockton, avoiding the Hunters that popped up here and there. He'd stop now and then to look at random shops littered amongst the houses,Whenever he stopped, he'd look about. Every time the stranger was there, further down the street, walking at his own languid pace. He wasn't letting up. It grated on Fox.

Finally Fox burst onto the busiest street in Clockton. The market avenue was alive with afternoon shoppers; elderly buying antiques, children playing with toys and parents picking out fresh groceries. Birds fluttered about and stray dogs bayed as they begged for meat. The noise, the clutter, the activity. It reminded him of Lakeside and it was here he felt safest.

Fox did a brief survey by quickly asking a random stall owner the price of the apples he had on display. The stranger was still there and there was a Hunter not far from the pub across the street. He need to move on somehow.

To throw off the impression Fox was running, he moved on from the stand and bought himself a newspaper from a paperboy and a fresh doughnut from a bakers. He took his time in normalising himself, trying not to raise suspicions in the bounty-hunter but also trying to remain hidden from the White Wizard not far from him.

Fox didn't feel safe going back to Cuckoo's, not with Dupont inside, the bounty-hunter was obviously after her by the Absolon and Dupont name drops, but neither did he feel safe wondering about the streets. Despite being out of Lakeside, there was too much danger here. He had to throw of the scent somehow. An idea came to him.

Fox moved on, reading his paper as he went. The media was in an uproar apparently after there still hadn't been any arrests on the Grand Wizard's killer and how even the entire Tower had failed to track the murderer down. The Denver woman made a statement, claiming justice would prevail. Fox hoped they wouldn't. He'd get hung or shot.

Feeling he had walked down enough streets, Fox tucked the newspaper under his arm and played eenie-meenie-miney-mo along the row of picturesque houses lining the lane. He picked the fifth one on the left hand side and sauntered up to it with purpose in every step. The stranger had to think he owned the place, the Fox was intending to go there.

He came to the door and knocked lightly. He waited a few minutes, busying his hands with a small lockpick he always kept on his person. He eyed the lock as he listened. It was a standard one, like all those in Clockton. When no one came to the door, Fox set to work.

It was awkward picking a lock as if he was simply unlocking the door with its usual key. It meant he had to stand up straight and couldn't pay too much attention to what he was doing. The stranger was watching though. Fox could feel him.

'Bloody door. Always jammin'.' Fox said loudly enough, he hoped, for the stranger to here. It gave him a few more seconds to jimmy it open. He just hoped the door wasn't alarmed.

He tried not to exhale in relief when the door clicked open and no alarm blared out in fright. He opened it and slipped inside, closing it and locking it behind himself swiftly.

Fox breathed. This would act well as a decoy. The stranger would watch the place for a while but he wouldn't get any sign of Dupont being here. Not even a hint.

Fox roamed the small but well furnished house, noting an elderly couple had to live here by how old the photographs, wallpaper and general taste was. The place was empty, as he hoped. He could hole up here for a few hours before slipping out at the owners return. He marked an upstairs window, which opened up onto a garden shed, as a decent escape route.

For the time being though, to strengthen he was home and not, Fox turned on the old TV in the lounge and settled down in the well worn chair, snapping open the newspaper to try get any more information of the Towers movements. Suddenly his day wasn't so bad. It had been a while since he'd watched TV.

So Fox settled down and briefly glanced out the window. The stranger was there, puffing at a cigar, waiting and watching. Something in Fox's gut turned. Something told him that man was bad news. Really bad news.

'It's fine.' He mumbled to himself.

He had his gloves that could electrocute and send to sleep anyone. And then there was Dupont with her powerful magic. She could fight off anything, he was certain of that. There was nothing to fear from the man across the road.

Little did Fox know that Esme had virtually no magic and not even his gloves stood a chance against the man outside; the man who currently inhaled the hot air, scenting the faint smell of Absolon the Sprite drifting off of Fox's skin.

No matter how good a job Fox did in shaking him, the stranger knew he was closing in on Esme Dupont.