On a Windy Night
A Promptoberfest story
© 2024 by Walter Reimer

Thumbnail art by  tegerio

Prompt: snap


Engery, Kingdom of Shuga:

The dark-furred fox froze, his ears laying back as a twig broke under the light slippers he wore, and he strained to hear above the seaward breeze. He heard nothing but the wind in the branches above him. That scarcely reassured him, so he waited.

And waited.

There was no sign of anyone coming to investigate, so he went into a crouch and eased out of the forest and through the gardens to the low wall that separated the flowers and shrubs from the house. It was a dark night, with no moonlight making its way through the clouds.

He had chosen his time after days of tracking his quarry. He had learned her habits and movements and discovered that her home was an isolated place outside the seaport’s walls. The building was only one story high, and it was a warm night. The shutters would be open to catch the breeze.

The assassin had been promised a lot of gold for this job, and he was an expert at his craft. His fur was smudged in random patches to break up his outline, and the knife he carried had been treated to make the steel blade black.

Quickly in, do the deed, get a token to show he had accomplished his mission, and quickly out.

He slithered around the end of the low wall, low-crawled to the windowsill, and slowly peered into the darkened room.

There she was. Raccoon, almost thirty, lying on her side in bed with her back to him. He gazed at her until he was certain that her chest was rising and falling in a normal sleeping rhythm.

The fox studied the windowsill carefully with fingertips as well as eyes before he gingerly crawled through the window. He got to his feet, still looking at his target. She was pretty, judging by the sheet pulled tight around her.

He drew his knife.

And froze.

The assassin experienced a moment of panic. He could still hear, still see, but he couldn’t move a muscle apart from breathing.

“I was wondering when you’d try,” and the raccoon rolled over in bed to face him. Her fur showed the gray of a far older femme, and her headfur was the white of bleached bone. Her left eye was missing, and her right eye glowed with a soft silvery light. Despite being unable to speak, the fox cursed.

He hadn’t been told his target was a magic-user, let alone an Adept of the Surveillant Eye.

The raccoon sow sat up, the sheet falling away to expose her unclothed breasts. “I sensed your approach,” she said in a flat, emotionless voice, “and I truly do not want to kill you. Still, if I allow you to leave, you might be tempted to try again.”

The fox would have swallowed but couldn’t. His saliva oozed from his open mouth.

Halvrika Hringurhali got out of bed and moved to face the fox, looking up at his paralyzed eyes. “By the Writ and the Eternal Balance, I consign you to the judgement of the Pantheon,” and she raised her left paw, thumb pressed against the pad of her middle finger.

He couldn’t scream, couldn’t cry, couldn’t beg.

She snapped her fingers.

And the fox couldn’t do anything anymore.

The raccoon stepped back as the corpse slumped bonelessly to the floor. “I will have to drag you somewhere, and tell the City Guard in the morning,” she said in the same emotionless voice before bending to grab his ankles.

Her unpleasant task done, Halvrika renewed the wards she’d placed around her house and property. She got back into bed and dissociated, her self remaining vigilant while her body slept.



end