Vulpine Summer

Warbler’s car rattled through Alton merrily. The sun beat down, forcing most people out of the midday sun and leaving only workers and policeman milling about the roads. The heat made the car stink, churning Esme’s empty stomach badly, but Warbler warned her not to open the windows.

‘It’ll let out the incense. We need it inside.’ He said firmly.

She had obeyed but resented it. The incense just made it all worse and she didn’t think she could last much longer. She wasn’t sure what she would vomit though. She hadn’t eaten anything all day.

Warbler suddenly squealed the car to a stop, making the seatbelt pull around her chest uncomfortably. She peered up at Warbler as he wound down the window and instantly froze. A gruff looking policeman was just outside, pen and paper ready as he gazed at Warbler and Esme mercilessly. Her heart stopped. Warbler didn’t know who she was, that she was the convict these policemen were looking for. He saw no harm in talking to them and letting them get close to her.

‘Need to check the vehicle. No doubt heard we’re lookin’ for Esme Dupont being a Wizard of the Ivory Tower and all, Mr Townsend.’

Warbler bowed his head in understanding. ‘Yes. Check everywhere you need to.’ Warbler pushed the door open and nudged Esme to do the same. ‘Hop out. Let these kind men do their work.’

With shaking fingers, Esme clutched the door handle and opened the door. She slipped out into the stale midday air, still holding the incense close. A White Wizard stood nearby, holding out his Grimoire and summoning a spell slowly. While he didn’t seem to have any kind of urgency and only looked at her with vague interest, it still sent her heart flying to her mouth. She stared at the dusty road, not looking up once.

‘What’s the incense for?’ One policeman asked as the rest began to rummage inside, shining lights.

‘Car sickness. He gets quite ill.’ Warbler said with an easy smile.

The White Wizard didn’t question it. Esme imagined she looked sick enough with her slight frame and pale complexion. She clutched at the incense, hoping it would smother not only the Trapper’s nose but the White Wizards as well. She couldn’t be found now. Warbler would be arrested as an accomplice for ferrying her about and then no one would be left to save Fox. He’d die. Alone.

Thinking of Fox and how his life was in her hands helped calm her a bit. She stopped the increasing signs of hyperventilating and inhaled the scent of heat, dust and incense around her. The sense of panic eased off and she could finally look up to watch as Warbler’s car was searched.

They had checked the boot, finding only emergency care and blankets, and the back seats had revealed no one hiding. They didn’t question Warbler’s Grimoire but they questioned the one they found in Esme’s pack.

They pulled it out and handed it to the White Wizard. Esme watched, trying not to give away the utter terror she felt grasping at her chest. Would they realise that Grimoire belonged to Esme Dupont? No Grimoire was named but there was always a connection leading to the owner. Her Grimoire would point right at her.

But the White Wizard simply shrugged and glanced at her, his eyes flickering over her shabby clothes. ‘You’re new at the College?’

Esme hesitated. He’d asked her a question. She had to speak but that would give her away.

‘He is. I’m his sponsor.’ Warbler said smoothly. Esme glanced at him, noting how easy he found it to lie. It worried her a little.

The White Wizard held out Esme’s Grimoire for her to take. ‘It’s well bound.’ He said with an encouraging smile.

She pulled her Grimoire to her flat chest and smiled timidly.

‘Right.’ Said the gruff policeman. ‘You’re free to go. Nothing’s been found.’

Warbler thanked the policeman and pulled himself into this old car, urging Esme to do the same. She took a few seconds to get herself moving. Shock had hit her hard. They had found nothing. The hated seen through the magic changing her eyes and hair. They hadn’t noticed that the Grimoire was owned by Esme Dupont. Somehow, no one had noticed anything.

Esme slipped into the seat, strapped herself in and closed the door. Warbler was waved off by the police and his car trundled by the blockade and out of Alton.

They sat in silence. Esme didn’t ask why he covered for her so quickly and he didn’t ask why she had a Grimoire despite appearing poor. They kept their questions to themselves.

Soon the car was following the road that slithered between the fanning fields and farms and the wide, deep girth of River Willow. Esme watched the waters churn and how it slipped over smooth rock with ease. Fox was somewhere in there, slowly dying from fever and infections.

‘Where to?’ Warbler asked.

‘I can call Willow so long as I am next to his River.’

Warbler nodded and swerved the car sharply up narrow road. It was bumpy by the churned up mud that had hardened and surrounded by dense green trees. Eventually it led to a small car park. A couple of cars were parked, empty of their owners. Warbler parked swiftly and, the moment the car died, Esme was out.

The air was cooler here from the shade the trees provided and it didn’t stink of smog and human life. Instead there was a fresh summer breeze, bringing the scent of flowers, grass and earth. Esme’s stomach instantly settled, enjoying the lack of factory smoke and hot metal.

She found it difficult to hold the incense and trying to stuff her Grimoire back in her bag but she had managed by the time Warbler had his huge sack slung over his shoulder.

‘Follow me.’ He said.

Esme did. He guided her away from the forest car park and deeper into the trees. They followed no path, not like the three that slunk off with coloured markers, and Esme stumbled regularly from the roots and holes that infested the earth. Eventually Warbler guided her to an old, worn out shack.

‘Used to use it for bird watching back in the day. No one’s taken care of it since.’ Warbler said as he came to the back and yanked open the door.

A cloud of dust and musk hit Esme, making her nose wrinkle.

‘It’ll be dry enough for me to work.’ Warbler began to unload his pack, laying out a fresh blanket on the mossy surface and taking the incense from her to stab into the ground. ‘Now, bring me to Fox.’

Esme bobbed her head and headed back out. Warbler pointed her in the direction of the river and she hurried towards it, letting her long legs create some distance between her and the doctor. She ran as quickly as she could, stumbling and scraping her palms against the rough bark.

Please be okay, she thought desperately.

She came to an abrupt stop as she reached the river banks. It was damp here and cool with midges buzzing in thick clouds and dusting the water’s surface.

‘River Willow! I have returned!’ She called out clearly just as Warbler came lumbering up behind her, puffing heavily.

The river was quiet and didn’t respond instantly to her cry. She wrung her hands in worry and mouth thinned, fretting about whether Willow would respond or not. He would, she reminded herself. He doesn’t want a dead man in his river.

The current of the river was slowly disturbed by small River Sprite popping up. They broke the surface and wiggled their arms, laughing and giggling merrily; marking the arrival of River Willow. Esme smiled in relief as the vibrantly coloured Spirit surfaced. He slipped out of his domain, clutching the body of Fox to his chest, and stared down at Esme with glittering orange eyes.

‘This one did as the Bloxham Sprite asked.’ The Spirit said as he slunk forward to gently lay out Fox on the banks. She didn’t like how still he was. ‘But this one could not stop the fever.’

Esme touched Fox’s face as a swell of pain took her. He looked grey. Deathly grey. But there was life. Barely. She felt a tickle of breath along her fingers when she placed them beneath his bloodied nose and his chest rose and sunk in shaking motions. His eyes remained close though and he gave no indication he was conscious.

‘Fox?’ She called softly, touched his red hair and throat. She felt numb.

Warbler was suddenly beside her, making her flinch, and he was instantly peeling away the material. The wounds were revealed, showing their festering glory to him. Esme didn’t like how they had changed. They were now weeping puss and mucus from the holes and the skin had turned grey. They were a lot worse.

Warbler was frowning deeply. ‘This is bad.’ He hissed then abruptly bundled Fox into his arms. ‘This will take time, Vic. Come with me.’

Esme bobbed her head but didn’t follow instantly. Instead she focused on Willow.

‘Is Absolon well?’

‘The Sprite sleeps still. This one will nurture the Watchful until he is fully rested.’

Esme smiled. ‘Thank you.’ She made to leave but paused as a new thought came to mind. ‘Has a Witch-trapper been around your domain, River Willow?’

The Spirit tilted his head in thought. ‘This one has seen no Witches.’

Esme frowned in worry. She was glad Sodden hadn’t found them but she didn’t like that she had no clue as to his whereabouts. ‘Can you warn me if you sense one?’

‘This one will do so.’ He said then dove back into the water, vanishing rapidly.

Esme wasted no time in catching up to Warbler. By the time she had reached the small bird watching station, Warbler had Fox laid on the blanket. Seeing him splayed out just made his wounds that more obvious. The bloodied material, the gaping holes, the sweat. Esme hated seeing him like this.

‘I’ll need you to act as nurse.’ Warbler said as he focused on cutting away Fox’s bloodied shirt.

‘What does that mean?’ Esme asked and knelt beside Fox. If it wasn’t for the subtle signs of life, Fox appeared dead. Very dead. Her throat tightened.

‘Pass me anything I need, holding things in place.’ Warbler touched the bullet hole in Fox’s waist, making it weep ugly, yellow puss. ‘This is the worse one. Luckily it passed by any vital organs but the infection is killing him. He should be long dead.’

‘Willow promised me to keep him alive, to keep his blood and fluids moving.’ Esme explained.

Warbler’s expression clearly showed how much he wanted to query how on earth she managed to have such control over a Spirit that didn’t know her but he sighed instead and began to dress his hands in latex gloves.

‘First, I need to get the bullets out. Putting him under aesthetic will likely kill him right now so I’ll use a sleeping spell. I want you to watch him for me. The moment he starts stirring, you tell me.’

Esme bobbed her head nervously. She had never been involved in surgery before and it made her shake with self-doubt. She took his hand in hers, feeling the masculine features and roughness of it, and squeezed.

Warbler took his Grimoire and, very swiftly, summoned a basic sleeping spell. Esme was slightly jealous of the ease of use but that was quickly swept aside the moment Fox’s shifted from a pained, sickly expression to something gentle.

‘He’s asleep. Keep an eye on him.’ Warbler instructed. Esme obeyed. ‘I’m going to cut open along the wound, drain the puss and blood and get that bullet out. Then I’ll disinfect it with both magic and medicine.’

‘Why not just magic?’ Esme queried.

‘Partly because I like to make sure the body can survive without extensive magic, partly because it’s exhausting and I am going to be needing to be awake for a long time yet. This isn’t going to be easy.’

Esme felt a cold stab of panic as the thought that Warbler might fail. It hadn’t occurred to her that he would. ‘Can you save him?’

Warbler hesitated before he shrugged. ‘I don’t know. Magic and medicine can only do so much.’ He passed her several cloths. ‘I’m going to cut it open now. Mop up what blood and puss you can, keep the wound clear.’ He fixed her gaze. ‘Are you ready?’

Esme didn’t feel ready. She had never been involved with fore before and she wasn’t sure she would be able to stomach it. She hated it when she would badly graze her knee, let alone watching someone be cut open. But Fox needed help. Her help.

She nodded slowly as she gazed down at him. His features were so serene now, despite how sickly his pallor was. Her eyes traced his oddly attractive features and locked onto his eyes. She wanted them to open. He always had such expressionate eyes.

‘I’m ready.’ She murmured and tightened her grip on Fox.

‘Then I’ll begin.’ Warbler said and sliced open the wound, spilling out revolting puss and blood.

Esme wasn’t sure how much time passed and they only ever stopped to snack, drink or relieve themselves but by the end, the sun was setting, spilling gold and fire across the sky, and the blackbirds were screaming amongst the trees. Esme was exhausted and her stomach still hadn’t settled very well from the sight of Fox being cut open and the stink of the infection. She lay beside Fox, still holding his hand, as Warbler finished bandaging the wound. Two bullets sat in a small pot surrounded by gore, bloodied cloth and utensils. Fox was shivering, despite Warbler’s best efforts to cool him, but he was sewn up and free from bullets. Now he just had to fight the infection and fever.

‘The worst is yet to come. His body is still too warm and weak and the wounds may turn and fester again.’ Warbler said as he cleaned his hands and glanced at Esme’s red, exhausted face. ‘Sleep. I’ll keep an eye on him.’

Esme smiled thinly in thanks before she focused on Fox. He looked a little less grey now but he was pouring with sweat and his skin twitched endlessly. She touched his sleeping face, noting how hot he felt. He was still in the thick of it. He could still die.

Esme clutched at his hand, feeling the knuckles and warmth. Warbler had done all he could. It was all up to Fox now. She closed her eyes and lay beside him with her hand entangled with his, willing the morning to bring good news.

Esme would quickly find out it wouldn’t.