1.

The young wizard sat before a dark cave, pondering over a large tome opened before him, puffing on a long-stemmed pipe.

Although he was no child, he was only recently of age – some older folk might have still called him boy, though his face was thoughtful. Tall, broad-shouldered and lean, he had a wild shock of brown hair, unkempt, that fell down to around his shoulders, inquisitive green eyes, and tanned skin somewhat dirtied by travel. He wore a cloak of black fur over his traveling leathers, and a bright red scarf, that he tugged tighter around him against the brisk autumn air, a chill settling in as the sun set in the sky.

The wizard fumbled with the pages of the book before him, his hands in stiff, thick gloves. The wind howled through the dark, bare trees surrounding him, and irritably he brushed leaves out of the words he was reading as the thick, red and brown carpet of an autumn forest moved in waves over his book. He had a sword on his belt, and by his side, a crossbow.

He sniffed, and looked up at the entrance to the cave before him. It was a meager cave, more of a hole in the ground ringed by rough, grey boulders; though it was large enough for him to enter standing up, he might have to watch his head as it sloped down sharply. He had no plans to enter the cave, though. He dug beneath his scarf, removing a glimmering black key attached to a leather thong around his neck, and held it out, dangling, towards the cave. It simply swung in the air for a few moments. And then it trembled, and shortly after whipped towards the cave, straining at the leather, pulling it taut, as if drawn towards the crack in the earth by some invisible force. The wizard held tight until the force relented, and the key dangled loosely once more. He tucked it back in beneath his scarf and shook his head. No, definitely not going in there.

He closed the book before him, a heavy thing of yellowed pages and a worn, unmarked cover of dark brown leather, and placed it in a pack that lay next to him. Then he got up, stretching, his joints popping. Lazily, he kicked at the leaves he had been sitting in, sweeping them aside until the bare dirt of the forest's floor was exposed.

Suddenly, a low, keening wail drifted from the entrance of the cave. The young wizard looked up sharply, his eyes widening, and immediately he began sweeping away the leaves much more quickly, even a bit frantically, until a circular patch of dirt large enough for him to lay down in was exposed. He grabbed a fallen branch and began tracing symbols in the dirt, going to his knees and furrowing his brow as he concentrated on tracing an intricate pattern into the forest floor. The wail from the cave slowly grew louder and louder. It did not sound like any animal. It sounded like a long, low whistle, echoed over and over upon itself, growing louder and louder and louder. The wizard breathed in deep, to calm himself, as he labored on drawing the sigils on the ground surrounding him.

Abruptly, the low wail stopped, its echoes trailing away. From the darkness of the cave came a cacophonous rattling sound, though still, nothing could be seen within. And then, a voice. A voice that seemed oddly lyrical, that faded in and out, as if the words themselves were an echo. “Brave little man. But foolish little man. Why did you not flee?”

The wizard stood, mopping the sweat from his brow, peering at the cave. The vague, blurry outline of….something, could be seen there, at the edge of the cave’s shadow, but the light of day had already sunk too far for it to be clear. The outline was man-sized, and might even have been mistaken for a man wearing a cloak from a distance. The wizard knew, though, that it was certainly not human. He reached into his pocket, and pulled out a sheathed dagger, freeing it to reveal a blade made from the same dark metal the key had been. “I come with an offering,” he said, waving the blade above his head, as he tossed the sheathe aside.

“An offering,” the voice scoffed. “An offering of what is mine by right. If I took your pretty little head, mageling, would you say it was an offering if I so kindly gave it back? The gall.” Suddenly, an invisible force pulled at the dagger in the wizard's hand, tearing it from his grasp, and it flew through the air, disappearing into the darkness of the cave. "And that is not all you have, is it? I will be taking the rest, as well.” And then, the key around the wizard's neck leapt forward, flying out from beneath his scarf, straining against the leather thong that held it until it snapped. The wizard watched ruefully, abashed, as the key shot through the air as well, and was swallowed by the cave.

Silence stretched for a long moment. Then the hilt of the dagger, the blade of dark metal neatly shorn from it, flew out from the darkness to strike the wizard in the head with its pommel, too fast for him to dodge. He cursed, rubbing the welt already rising on his forehead. “Consider that the price of trying to hide the key from me,” hissed the voice.

“Is the offering...sufficient?”

A long stretch of silence from the cave yet again. “Yes,” came the voice. And then the figure on the edge of the cave’s shadow stepped forward.

The creature that emerged wore a long, tattered robe that dragged in the leaves that covered the forest floor . It was broad, wide, swaying back and forth as it approached him, with a hunched back that rose high above its shoulders. Its head was something like a fox’s, with bright red fur, but its snout was broader, like a wolf’s. In place of its eyes, it had round, shiny black stones, of the same metal that the dagger and key had been made of. When it bared its teeth, they too were made of the same dark metal. It shuffled towards the wizard, surprisingly quick despite its awkwardness, and then stopped at the edge of the sigils he had scratched into the ground, snorting at them. It was nearly of the same height as the wizard was, though its hunched back meant that the fox’s head had to peer up at him. When it spoke, it seemed as if the voice was coming from somewhere within it, rather than from its mouth – its lips did not move. “You want a telling. I will need your blood for this.”

“Right,” replied the wizard, tugging off one of his thick gloves. Gingerly, he extended his bare palm across the edge of the sigils, towards the creature.

The creature was quiet for a moment. And then, a horrible rattling sound that the wizard eventually realized was its laughter emanated from it. “Little mageling. I am feeling generous, so I will tell you. Anything I could cut you with would mean a slow, wasting death for your kind. You will want to cut yourself and then offer your hand.”

The rattling laughter continued as the wizard blushed crimson and withdrew his hand hastily. He unsheathed his sword and drew the long steel blade delicately against his palm, careful to leave the cut shallow. He cupped his hand, until the blood pooled in it, and then once again extended it back across the circle of sigils.

The creature’s fox head dipped towards the blood flowing from his palm, sniffed it, then lapped at it gently. Its tongue felt rough enough to tear the skin from his hand if it had wanted. Then it raised its head, his blood dripping from its nose, sniffing at the air. “You will go south, a few day’s travel from here,” it said, nose twitching, as it continued to scent. “You will come upon a cursed lakeside village.”

The wizard waited as the creature kept its nose in the air, snuffling, wicked black teeth gleaming as its fox head grinned. Finally, it lowered its muzzle and simply stared at him with those unblinking, metal eyes. “Is that it…?” he asked.

The creature continued to stare at him in silence until he began to feel uncomfortable. “There is someone waiting for you back at your camp,” it added. Then, without ceremony, it turned around and began shuffling back towards its cave.

The wizard growled with frustration. He had wanted more than this. “Friend or foe?” he called after the creature, before it disappeared back into the darkness.

The creature paused, lifting its snout into the air to sniff once more. Then again, it gave its hideous, rattling laugh. “I can never tell with your kind.” And then, without another word, it shuffled back into the darkness of the cave, disappearing from view.

The wizard huffed, waiting for a few moments before scuffing the circle away with the side of his boot. He sucked at the wound on his palm, washing away the blood with a trickle of water from his waterskin, until the the bleeding had been reduced to a slow ooze. He glanced around the forest, which was quickly sinking into darkness, the trees now like black sentinels rising from the carpet of leaves. He quickly hoisted his pack onto his back and grabbed his crossbow, hurrying from the spot back towards camp, the only sounds that of his rustling through the forest and the gentle whisper of the wind.