Fox and Fire~Fictional Story

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7 Years
Sep 22, 2012
I'm starting to get a little bored now, so I decided to post some of the story I'm writing:

The fox bounded through the snowy wood, followed by her fading tracks and the thunderclap of gunshot. They day was drowsy and gray. The world was blurry as the future. The sun had taken a day off. This all worked to Valora's advantage, for she was the criminal being chased today. Her coat was like a streak of fire. Flashing through the trees. This worked to the farmer's advantage, who she had stolen from.
BANG! Bark flew off the ash tree to her left a, foot from her ragged pelt. Valora's sides heaved, the gray-white tugged at the corners of her vision. A flash of gold caught her eye.
Another bang, like the thunder that follows lighting. And Valora was the eye of that tempest. She lept over a fallen log, the crunching of snow under a boot came from behind her. Her tracks were already gone. The snow had begun to fall.
It grew heavier, the downpour of sudden white, as if an eagle had pierced the clouds with its wings. Valora thought she was free.
The last shot rang out.
She yelped as something struck her leg. Tumbling, she slammed softly into the trunk of the willow, its long curved branches forming a protective hood above her. No more shots rang out. The day, or night perhaps, for Valora had lost track of time, was quiet. At least, as quiet as you can get in the forest.
She inspected her leg, it didn't look bad. The bullet had merely grazed her leg. If it didn't get infected she might not even have a scar.
Then the rest of the world set in. It was snowing, and cold, and bitter. The wind pierced Valora's fur like needles falling with the white. Valora was hungry, hungry enough to steal from man, which she had never done before.
She sighed. The snow had not cleared, Valora decided to wait under the willow for it to lift. For the clouds to be sewn and the sky to again be a sapphire blue.
She did not recall having sleep claim her, but her body was worn and weary, so it found her like it found all other eventually.
She dreamed of a bird like no other. It was the size of an eagle, but unlike one in many ways. It's feathers were golden-orange, its long extravagant tail ending in sunset red. Valora felt as if she were staring into a hearth. Its head was adorned with a crest of fiery shades, orange, yellow, red, and gold. She looked like the sun had become nestled in the feathers of a bird.
Valora felt weary, but not because of the bird, but her own day.
"Kitsune," the bird said, her voice was desperate, her emerald eyes were sad. Like she was missing something important.
"Who are you?" Valora asked. The words poured from her throat in a different language.
"I am Lystra, the phoenix," Lystra replied, her voice tight, "Find me or I am the last of my kind."
Valora awoke, cold and tired. The snow had cleared and a very odd sight awaited her.
Surrounded by pale, cool snow, was a patch of grass. Green as a spring day. Alive.
Valora's blood ran cold.
"Fox," came the voice of the bird, melodic and sad, yet entrancing.
Valora looked around, but saw nothing. She sniffed at the grass and the snow and the brittle air. Nothing but the scent of herself and winter.
Valora's eyes darted everywhere.
It had to be an Omen.
"Find me or I an the last of my kind."

If anyone likes it I'll type up more.
Valora had chosen her name. Foxes didn't care much for such things. But Valora sometimes even doubted she was a fox. She was a thinker, she'd contemplate the situation quickly and efficiently. She sometimes even doubted her instincts, which was unheard of among other animals. It was as if she'd acquired part of another animal's thoughts, yet she didn't have the capability to do these things.
Her name struck her by surprise. She wheeled around, then back, then up. It was the bird who had called herself Lystra the phoenix. Lystra looked at Valora's leg.
"I could heal you, kitsune," she said, "But you must help me find my egg."
"What egg?" Valora asked, "And my name isn't Kit."
"Kitsune" the bird corrected, "I know a fox spirit when I see one."
"A what spirit?"
"Valora," Lystra said, "You are a were-fox. I have followed your magic, you must help me find my egg."
"Or what?" Valora said indignantly.
"Or the legacy of the phoenix is doomed," she said, "I am the last grown phoenix on earth."
Valora's stomach twisted into a knot. A were-fox? A phoenix?
"Who stole your egg?" she asked at last. Lystra looked relieved she had considered it.
"The Gryphon Letum," she answered dryly, "He is obsessed with his gold, and there is no finer gold than a phoenix egg. He may not even know it is my egg, just a gold nugget of peculiar shape to him."
"Uh...Okay," Valora said, she'd seen stranger today.
"I think I can find him," Lystra said wearily, "I'm drawn to it, of course, but I don't know exactly--"
"Where it is." Valora finished, "Do you know where his lair or cave or whatever is?"
"Dysissia," Lystra said, "Land of the setting sun. It's an in between world, separating magic and people."
She looked sort of sad, "Very few people can enter now, but most magical animals like you or me can."
"Wait, wait," Valora barked, "I'm...I'm not magic."
The phoenix huffed, "Of course you are! How old are you? Two hundred? Three hundred?"
"Four," Valora said.
"Well, it should still work. Most were-creatures are people, but it's a bit different for your kind."
"I haven't used magic in my life!" Valora protested.
"Have you Valora? Aren't you different? Don't you have a name? A plan?" Lystra asked.
"That's--That's just me!" she replied.
"Close your eyes," Lystra said.
"Just do it!"
Valora closed her eyes. "Think," said the bird, "Think of magic--think of naming yourself. Think of...think of a person."
"A what?" Valora asked in surprise, but she did as Lystra said. She thought of something, anything that could possibly make her fit in. For a second, nothing happened. Then Valora could feel herself changing. She felt colder, even though it had not begun to snow again. Her paws also began to change, more sensitive, easier to grip stuff with. Her clawed toes became long fingers on her front paws. She could feel her posture changing too, like she was growing taller in fast motion.
Valora opened her eyes. She felt different, yet somewhat right.
She was in a crouching postion, which was odd since she hadn't moved. She got up, much taller than before. Looking down, she saw a gray winter coat, blue jeans, and furry boots. Her leg was healed.
She let her mouth hang open for a while. "I'm a...a..."
"Women," Lystra agreed. Valora couldn't have been more than twenty, she gazed into a pond. Her hair was the color of dark chocolate, she looked like any other person her age, exept for her eyes, which were still gold.
"Now," Lystra said, "Are we going to find my egg?"
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Thanks, OwlLover.

The sun was beginning to dim as the hills shielded its light. Valora looked at her hands, her clothes, and her face in the water.
"How did you--" she started.
Lystra smiled, "I didn't do anything, Valora, it was in you."
"Can I turn back?" she asked, "To a fox?"
"It should be easy," she said, "Considering the fact you've been a vixen so long."
Valora glanced at her leg again, she didn't know if Lystra had fixed it or the magic had, but she was able and ready to help.
"I'll help you," she said, "How far is this Die-is or whatever it's called?"
"Only a few days journey by wing," the phoenix said, than it dawned on both of them.
"Can I sprout wings too?" Valora asked hopefully.
"No," Lystra said, "But I-I think I might know a ride. Just stay here." she didn't sound too thrilled about it, but Valora did. Lystra soared over the treetops, she muttered something like a spell, then burst into a song.
Lystra's song was one hundred times as enchanting as her voice, probably more. The soft notes wafted through the air in another language, one more ancient then any tongue of man. Its words were soft and beautiful and long, each one flowing into another. The song itself was warm as a fire and gentle as a zepher. Valora stood, letting the chords warm her down to her feet. Finally it faded, and Lystra's golden shape disappeared into the blue cloudless sky.
Valora didn't know how long she had waited, she didn't keep track of time, she listened to the last of Lystra's song which was only in her memory now.
Finally, the glowing shape of her friend, brightly contrasted on the newly darkened sky came over the forest. Valora stumbled back, now acustemed to two legs, to avoid getting smashed by a dark shape diving out of the sky.
Lystra caught her breath, she stood beside a handsome strawberry roan stallion. His beautiful coat stood out in the moonlight, most startling of all, though, were the matching wings folded across his back, their feathers as red-brown as the rest of him. He had proud brown eyes and a white muzzle, silver in the ghostly rays of the moon.
"Valora," Lystra said, "Meet Epsilon. He's your ride."
The roan stallion looked at Lystra, "Yeah, I guess I owe you one," he said.
Lystra looked a bit mad, "He- He was guarding my nest when the egg fell. That's how Letum found it."
"You're a horse," Valora said, "With wings!"
"I prefer the term pegasus," Epsilon said, "But yeah, I can fly." He puffed out his chest, "Anyone and anything!"
"Can you give me a ride?" she asked.
Epsilon nodded, "Where to?"
"Dysissia," she said, "We're looking for the gryphon who stole her egg." She pointed to Lystra.
"What?" he exlaimed, then looked at her again, "Oh, a were-fox, yep, I can take you."
Lystra nodded, "Ready?"
Valora climbed onto Epsilon like she was born to ride, "Let's go."
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