The alley stank of old rot and smoke.
Kaelen pressed himself against the cold stone wall as Mari stood between him and the older boys, her shoulders squared, her chin lifted. She was taller than Kaelen by a head, but even she looked small compared to the four boys hemming them in.
Four boys leaned against a crumbling wall up ahead. Teenagers. Dirty clothes. Lean faces. One of them spun a dull knife lazily between his fingers.
"Well, well," said the one with a jagged scar across his chin, stepping forward with a grin that didn't reach his eyes. "What do we have here? Little street mice out past curfew?"
Mari's hand snapped out, catching Kaelen's arm. "Back up," she said, voice tight.
The boys spread out, cutting off the way they came.
"Aw, come-on don't run away now," said the greasy-haired one. "We just want a word."
"We don't have anything," Mari said. Her voice was calm. Clear. But Kaelen could hear the steel in it.
The boys chuckled. The scarred one tilted his head. "Don't lie. You've got shoes, don't you? And what's that in the little one's pocket?"
Kaelen flinched. His hand instinctively went to the wooden fox. He hadn't meant to show it.
"You'll want to step back," Mari said again. Her stance shifted. Feet shoulder-width apart. Hands loose at her sides.
They laughed harder this time.
Then one of them lunged.
Mari moved first.
She stepped forward instead of retreating, catching the boy off guard. Her hand snapped out and struck him square in the nose. There was a crunch, followed by a howl of pain as he stumbled backward, clutching his face. She didn't wait. She pivoted and swept the legs from under the second boy before he could even react. He hit the ground hard, groaning.
Kaelen had never seen her like this. He knew she was bold—fearless, even—but now she moved with a kind of precision he didn't expect. She wasn't just scrappy. She was trained.
The third boy caught her arm as she twisted, trying to grab her around the waist. Mari spun with the motion and drove her elbow into his ribs. He cursed and let go—but the fourth boy tackled her from behind.
They fell hard. Mari grunted as she hit the cobblestones. The impact knocked the wind from her, and her hands scrambled for leverage.
Kaelen took a step forward, panic burning through his chest. He didn't think. He just moved.
"Let her go!" he shouted.
He tried to shove the boy off, but he was too small. Too light. A backhand sent him reeling, his head ringing.
Someone grabbed him from behind, twisting his arm and slamming him against the wall. His cheek scraped the cold stone.
Mari screamed and kicked upward. She caught her attacker in the jaw with the back of her heel, and he staggered off her, cursing.
But the others were regaining their nerve. Two of them moved in, one grabbing Mari's hair, the other pinning her shoulders. She bucked and squirmed, but there was no space left to move.
"Little rats got bite," Scar-Chin said, wiping blood from his split lip. "Shame it won't save you."
"Take what you can," said the one holding Kaelen.
Hands patted Kaelen down roughly. They tore his sling from his belt and yanked open his coat.
Then he felt it.
The fox.
His hand shot toward his pocket, accidentally knocking it loose. The wooden fox clattered to the cobblestones. Kaelen lunged for it, desperation fueling him, but a careless boot kicked it away. It skittered across the alley, disappearing beneath a pile of trash and debris.
Kaelen's breath caught. "No—wait—please—!"
A boot struck him in the ribs. He crumpled with a strangled sound. The older boy scoffed "Tch, just some wooden fox, how worthless."
Mari shrieked again and tried to break free. She bit someone. Hard. There was another cry of pain.
"Enough!" Scar-Chin barked. "Let's go."
They backed off quickly, laughing, limping, bleeding, a new, small coin pouch bouncing in their hands. The sound of their retreat echoed down the alley.
Mari lay sprawled against the wall, chest heaving. Kaelen curled into himself, one hand clutching his side, the other reaching toward the heap of trash where the fox had disappeared.
It was gone.
Gone.
He stared at the shadows beneath the crates, willing it to appear.
It didn't.
Mari sat up slowly, blood at the corner of her mouth. "Kaelen…?"
He didn't answer.
She crawled toward him. "Are you hurt?"
His jaw trembled. He nodded once. His voice came out low, cracked. "It's gone."
She followed his gaze.
The fox was gone.
"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I didn't think—"
Kaelen turned away from her.
"Let's just go."
They rose painfully, supporting each other as they limped from the alley. The twilight deepened around them, painting the city streets in shadows and muted amber light. Kaelen felt hollow, the loss of the wooden fox opening an emptiness inside him greater than the bruises or the humiliation.
Mari's face was pale beneath the dirt and bruises, and she didn't meet his eyes as they walked in silence. Her breathing was shallow, and Kaelen realized she was fighting back tears, not from pain but from guilt. He found he had no words of comfort. Instead, he withdrew further into himself, each step heavy with loss and confusion.
When they finally reached Mistress Harrow's shop, Selene rushed out, her face stricken with worry. Kaelen felt numb as she embraced him, her hands frantic as they assessed his injuries. Mari stood quietly to the side, her gaze fixed on the ground, shoulders slumped with shame.
That night Mari faced her mother's wrath, standing quietly as Mistress Harrow berated her fiercely. "You, Foolish girl! Do you have any idea how badly this could have ended? The two of you could have died for gods sake!"
Mari merely nodded, her gaze locked on the floorboards. She didn't argue or try to defend herself; the weight of her guilt silenced any protest she might have offered.
Over the next several days, Mari quietly slipped out each evening, searching tirelessly through the alleyways and corners of the city where their attack had occurred. She sifted through garbage, dug beneath discarded boxes, and scoured every shadowed nook she could find. Her fingers scraped raw and her clothes filthy, yet she pressed on, driven by determination and guilt.
Kaelen was unaware of her secret search. He simply remained withdrawn, the loss of the little wooden fox a constant ache that overshadowed everything else. He avoided Mari, not out of anger or spite, but from a lingering sadness he couldn't quite shake.
Each night Mari returned home late, her mother's anger building. "Where do you vanish every evening?" Mistress Harrow demanded, her patience wearing thin.
Mari kept her head lowered. "I'm fixing my mistake," she replied softly.
Mistress Harrow stared at her daughter, the anger fading slightly into worry and curiosity, but she asked no more questions, sensing something deeper was driving Mari.
After nearly a week of fruitless searching, Mari began to fear she might never find the fox. Each evening, when the sun dipped below Greystone's rooftops, she returned to the alleys, her eyes sharp despite exhaustion, combing every corner and crevice she might have missed before. Doubt lingered at the edge of her mind, whispering cruelly that it was gone forever—but still, she couldn't stop. Her stubborn heart refused to let go of the promise she'd silently made to herself and Kaelen.
Meanwhile, Kaelen found himself increasingly lost in thought, the world around him dulled by his lingering sadness. He'd often catch himself absently touching the spot in his pocket where the wooden fox used to sit, feeling a pang of emptiness every time his fingers brushed the empty fabric. Each morning he woke hoping it had all been a bad dream, only for reality to settle back in heavily upon him.
Mari noticed his withdrawn silence. It pressed on her heart each day as they sat in Mistress Harrow's shop, the distance between them feeling more painful than any bruise from the alley. She desperately wanted to talk to him, to explain herself fully, but every attempt died before it left her lips. Guilt tightened its grip on her, making her uncertain how to even approach him.
One afternoon, as they worked quietly, Mari found herself stealing glances at Kaelen. His dark hair fell messily across his forehead, and there were still faint bruises visible on his cheek. She bit her lip, considering a thousand things she might say to break through the barrier she'd unintentionally created. But as she opened her mouth, Mistress Harrow's voice snapped her attention back to her stitching.
"Less daydreaming, more working, Mari. Those dresses won't sew themselves."
"Yes, Mother," Mari replied softly, returning her focus to the needlework. But her mind continued racing, haunted by Kaelen's distant expression and the echoes of her own guilt.
Later that evening, as Mari prepared to slip out once more, she hesitated at the threshold of the back door. Her mother's voice caught her by surprise, softer this time, with an edge of genuine concern.
"Mari," Mistress Harrow said gently. "You can't keep punishing yourself. Whatever you're looking for...is it really worth it?"
Mari met her mother's gaze, her voice steadier than she felt. "It is. It's worth more than you realize."
Mistress Harrow watched her daughter closely, understanding flickering quietly behind her stern eyes. "Then be careful," she finally murmured, stepping aside to let Mari pass into the night. "I don't want to lose you to whatever guilt you're carrying."
Mari paused, looking back at her mother with gratitude and newfound resolve. "You won't, don't worry. I promise."
She hurried into the darkness, the city's shadows swallowing her as she resumed her search, determined now more than ever to reclaim what was lost.
Then, finally, her fingers brushed something familiar beneath a heap of damp straw in a neglected corner of the alley. Her heart surged as she pulled the wooden fox free, its familiar shape comforting despite being mud-stained and chipped.
Mari rushed back through the dark streets, heart pounding with anticipation. She found Kaelen sitting quietly in front of the shop, staring blankly at his feet.
Without a word, Mari walked up, sat beside him and placed the fox gently into his hand.
Kaelen's head turned immediately, his eyes widened with disbelief and wonder. His fingers trembled as they closed around the small carving. "How...?"
Mari smiled hesitantly; her eyes hopeful yet uncertain. "I kept looking until I found it. I had to after all, seemed important."
He gazed at her, the guarded sadness in his expression slowly melting into relief and gratitude. "It is, but you didn't have to."
"I did," she said softly, sitting down beside him. "It was my fault you lost it. I needed to make it right."
Kaelen ran his thumb gently over the fox's chipped ear. "Thank you, Mari. Really."
Mari's gaze softened. "Nothing's ever truly lost, she murmured. "Sometimes it just takes a while to find it. Or so my dad always says""
Kaelen smiled faintly, the weight lifting from his chest. "I believe you."
As the twilight deepened into night, Kaelen felt a renewed sense of peace. The fox was back in his pocket, and somehow, his friendship with Mari felt stronger, more real. Together, they had faced fear and loss, but now, sitting side by side beneath the city's stars, they had found something more valuable: trust, friendship, and the quiet courage to keep moving forward, no matter what came next.