Chapter Text
It was just a routine night hunt.
So routine that Wei Ying’s parents allowed him to join.
Just a low-level spirit, it couldn’t even hurt Wei Ying now that he’d recently begun stoking the embers of his golden core at the age of six.
Wei Ying had been so excited, eagerly scampering after his parents, delighted at the opportunity to see them in action.
Then, his mother had frozen, fox ears twitching. His father, with his human ears, didn’t seem to hear but knew to be alert when his wife showed caution.
The color slowly drained from Cangse Sanren’s face. “Wolves,” she whispered, terror in her voice.
Wei Changze paled as well, shoulders tensing. “Run,” he hissed.
Wei Ying’s mother grabbed him, hitching him onto her hip before taking off. As they dove into the forest, Wei Ying heard the growls, the scrape of his father unsheathing his sword.
The last he saw was his father standing firm, back straight and unflinching, as the wolves descended.
He screamed, voice raw with fear “Diedie!”
Then, he could no longer see him, could only hear the wind whistling as his mother bounded through the forest, tails streaming behind her.
He cried, tears streaming as he called out for his father.
“Shh, A-Ying!” Cangse Sanren said sternly. “We don’t want them to hear us.”
Wei Ying pressed his lips together, tears continuing unabated.
They ran for several more minutes before the sound of barking came again. He felt his mother tense further as she looked around wildly.
She screeched to a halt in front of a knot of trees, setting Wei Ying down. “Hide there,” she said urgently, pointing to a narrow gap between two twisted trees. She pushed him forward and he obeyed, crawling into the narrow space. He had to curl his legs tightly to his chest to fit but, once he did, he was effectively hidden.
Through the narrow gap, he saw his mother turn her back to him, raising her hands and drawing a red sigil in the air. An opaque wall of energy appeared in front of her and expanded to surround her and Wei Ying in a circle.
Wei Ying understood why she did so within a few moments.
The barks and growls came closer and, suddenly, a dark form slammed into the shield. It bounced off, but another soon followed. And another. And another.
The wolves kept coming at the shield, slamming into it, raking at it with their claws. Cangse Sanren was sweating, looking strained as she fought to keep the shield up. But, it was only a matter of time.
A rip appeared in the shield. Then, another. And another.
“No, no, no,” Cangse Sanren muttered under her breath. Then, she saw the sword gripped in the jaws of one of the wolves. She knew that sword.
“No!” She screamed, a sound wrenched from her chest as she realized what had happened.
In the moment of distraction, the shield faltered.
“No!”
Cangse Sanren threw her arms up but, this time, the shield flickered, too weak to protect them. She tried again, but didn’t have the energy to keep the shield up.
She glanced at Wei Ying, who still watched her through the narrow gap.
Then, she put her arms up one last time. But, the shield didn’t come up in front of her. Instead, it formed in a small circle behind her, around Wei Ying, obscuring his view.
He didn’t see what happened.
He heard it, though.
Heard the triumphant barks. His mother’s scream that was quickly cut off.
The silence was deafening in what it indicated. He held a hand tightly to his mouth, holding the whimpers inside, trying to avoid detection. He couldn’t stop the streaming tears.
He heard the slight static of energy that he associated with his mother changing forms, though he knew it couldn’t be her.
Then, he heard a deep voice. “Was there another fox?”
Another shift, then another voice. “I thought I heard a child. She must have hidden him.”
“Did you see the child? Was it another fox?”
“Didn’t see the kid. Doesn’t matter, though.”
“But our orders were to kill any of those infernal foxes. We can’t just let one go.”
“The child couldn’t have been too old. With both parents dead, it won’t survive anyway. I say we’re done.”
“But-”
“We’re done.”
“...Yes, sir.”
Wei Ying heard rustling, then the sound of retreating footsteps. When they were gone, he peeked out again, looking through the blur of tears with an ember of hope.
But, it was quickly snuffed out.
His mother was gone.
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Hours passed. The sun rose, stabbing into Wei Ying’s sore eyes.
He curled up tighter and refused to move.
More time passed. The sky darkened. By the time it lightened again, he could no longer ignore the rumble in his stomach that demanded his attention. He didn’t understand what happened. Just that his parents were gone. And he was hungry. So, he’d have to find food himself.
He slowly crawled out of the hiding place, muscles tight and stiff. He stood up jerkily and looked around. He was surrounded by forest. He had no idea where the nearest town could be. He tried to shift into his fox form, hoping he could sniff his way to civilization, but he was too weak to manage a full shift.
Instead, he gathered what energy he had to shift into his hybrid form, ears and tail out. His ears twitched as he strained his hearing until he heard the faintest rattle of a wagon. Then, he set off towards the sound.
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By the time the sun was high in the sky, he found himself at the edge of a town. But, he wasn’t sure what to do. How did his parents get food?
Ah! He spied a food stand. They got it from a nice person at a food stand .
He scurried up to the food stand, reaching up on his tip-toes to grab a small bun.
“Hey!” A shout made him flinch, drawing his hand back. “Get away, street urchin!”
The man behind the stand glared down at him.
“But,” his voice wavered. “I’m hungry.”
The man scoffed. “If I gave food away to every hungry urchin, I’d be out of business. You have money?”
Wei Ying shook his head.
“Then, scram!”
Wei Ying flinched, then scuttled off, running away from the frightening man. He went down an alley behind the market, where he found a pile of discarded food. He dove into it, finding a dusty, half-eaten bun.
Normally he would recoil, but his stomach was rumbling too loudly. He bit into it, not registering the taste, just the easing of the cramps in his stomach.
Then, he heard a snarl. He froze. Looked up. And saw the scrawny, starving dog at the other end of the alley.
The creature was small, ragged, but seeing its sharp teeth and fierce eyes made Wei Ying remember.
He dropped the bun and ran.
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A day passed in this manner. Then, two. Then, three, four, five. Before he knew it, he was on the streets for months, scrounging up food, giving it up to dogs half the time. On lucky days, a kind passerby would give him food.
Most days weren’t lucky.
On one of those days, he had given up his food to a pack of dogs and hid in an empty alley. He sat with his legs drawn to his chest. He buried his face in his knees, feeling his throat constrict.
He missed his parents. He was so hungry. He was so tired. Why did A-Niang even save me?
A light footstep drew his attention.
He looked up and saw a boy.
A boy so pristine that he almost thought he was dreaming.
The boy was dressed in white robes, hair pitch black and smooth, eyes sharp and golden. A ribbon was tied around his forehead. In his hand, he held a small pouch.
He blinked at the boy, who said nothing, simply stared at him. “Hello,” he said with a tentative smile.
The boy didn’t say anything for a moment. Then, “Are you hungry?”
The boy’s voice was quiet and even. Wei Ying nodded in response to his question. “I don’t remember the last time I wasn’t hungry.”
The boy lifted his pouch, opening it and pulling out a warm bun. He offered it to Wei Ying.
Wei Ying stared. “For me?”
“Mn.” The boy looked back placidly.
Wei Ying held out his hand and the boy handed the bun over. Wei Ying dug into it, forgetting about the other in his frenzied drive to sate his hunger. It was gone before he knew it and, immediately, another bun was offered.
Wei Ying ate this one without hesitation and a third one was handed over swiftly. As he ate this one, he finally slowed down, his stomach aching from having what felt like so much food.
He looked up to see the other boy watching him as he ate. He beamed and the boy’s eyes widened slightly. “Thank you! But, I don’t have anything to give you in return.”
The boy shook his head. “No need.”
“Yes, there is!” Wei Ying refused to yield on this. “You gave me your food. I should give you something, too. Maybe…” He thought for a moment. “Oh!”
He lifted a hand to his hair, tugging at the worn red ribbon that he’d managed to keep in his hair. It was the one his mother had tied his hair with right before…
Well, it was the only thing he had to give, other than the ragged clothes he wore. And his mother had said the ribbon was special, would keep him safe.
He held the ribbon out to the other boy. “Here. You can have this. It’s an extra special ribbon.”
The boy hesitated but reached out a hand. Wei Ying handed it over with a small pinch of regret.
“Now, we’re even,” he said, continuing to smile at the other boy.
The boy frowned slightly. “Where are your parents?”
Wei Ying’s smile faltered. “They’re...gone.”
The other boy inhaled a sharp breath. “Stay here. I’ll be back.”
The boy hurried away in a flash of white.
Wei Ying looked after him, not really expecting him to return. Then, the sound of heavier footsteps stole his attention. He saw a purple robe and looked up to see a kind face.
The man looked at him with blatant shock. “Wei Ying?”
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Lan Zhan returned to the alley with his uncle but found it empty.
He looked around with a slight frown. “He was here.”
His uncle glanced around as well. “He appears to have gone. Perhaps his parents found him.”
Lan Zhan shook his head. “He said they were gone.”
“Perhaps he simply meant that they had left to go somewhere else and they returned to pick him up. I’m sorry, A-Zhan, we can’t stay any longer to look for him.”
Lan Zhan felt his heart clench. He didn’t know what it was about the boy with the black fox ears, just that, when he had seen his smile, he felt something settle within him. And, now that the other boy was gone, he felt an aching loss.
He didn’t move, even as his uncle turned away. He had told the boy to stay there. Where could he have gone?
“A-Zhan!” His uncle called him sternly.
He waited for another moment but saw no trace of the boy. He turned and followed his uncle, fingers caressing the red ribbon in his hand as he went, leaving the alley behind.