The afternoon sun filtered through the small windows of the cottage, casting a warm glow inside. Raphael sat quietly on a wooden stool, staring at the floor. Elara, standing across from him, studied him with growing curiosity. Why didn't he ever talk? Why did he always seem so guarded? Just as she was about to say something, the door creaked open.
"Elara!"
The overly cheerful voice made Elara sigh before she even looked up. Stubby stood at the doorway, grinning like a fool. His rough, stocky build, scarred cheek, and scruffy clothes made him look like every other thug in the area, but it was that ridiculous smile that made Elara want to hit him the most.
"Oh no," she muttered under her breath.
Stubby strolled inside like he owned the place, hands on his hips. "I came all this way just to see you, and that's the welcome I get? Cold, Elara, real cold."
Elara rolled her eyes. "Stubby, I told you before—I don't date thugs."
Stubby clutched his chest like she had stabbed him. "Ouch. Thug? You wound me, woman. I'm a businessman."
Elara crossed her arms. "Smuggling stolen goods is not a business."
Stubby scoffed. "That's offensive. I don't steal—"
"Oh, really?"
"I just… relocate items that were already stolen. See? It's different." He flashed a grin like he had just said something genius.
Elara groaned. "Stubby, why are you even here?"
"Love," Stubby declared dramatically. "I can't stop thinking about you, Elara. Every time I close my eyes, there you are."
"Maybe stop closing your eyes," Elara deadpanned.
Stubby wagged his finger. "Now, now, don't be like that. I'm serious! You and me—we'd make a great team. I'm strong, handsome, a respected businessman—"
"You're short," Elara interrupted.
Stubby gasped. "Rude! I'm not short, I'm compact. Efficient. Built for speed and agility."
"Built for scurrying under tables," Elara muttered.
Stubby pointed at her. "See, that's why I love you. Sharp tongue, sharper mind. You'd keep me on my toes."
"I'd rather keep you far away."
"You're breaking my heart here, Elara."
"Good."
Raphael, still seated, watched the exchange like a spectator at a circus. His blank expression barely hid his confusion at whatever this ridiculous man was trying to do.
Stubby finally seemed to notice Raphael properly and blinked. "Oh? Who's this little guy?" He stepped forward, grinning. "You got a kid now, Elara? Didn't take you for the motherly type."
Elara stepped in front of Raphael instantly. "Back up, Stubby."
Stubby ignored her, crouching slightly to look at Raphael. "Hey, kid, I ain't gonna hurt you. Hope we can be friends."
The second Stubby got too close, Raphael's fingers twitched—his claws extending just slightly, ready to strike.
Elara noticed immediately. "Stubby, stop right there!"
Stubby, sensing nothing, just grinned. "Relax, I'm just—"
Raphael moved. It was quick, a small shift forward, a barely noticeable tension in his muscles—
Elara grabbed him by the back of his tunic and yanked him down before he could lunge. "Enough," she said firmly, holding him in place. Raphael, caught off guard, huffed and crossed his arms, clearly irritated.
Stubby, completely unaware of how close he came to getting his face clawed, just chuckled. "Fiery little guy, huh? I like him."
Elara let go of Raphael and shot Stubby a glare. "You almost lost a chunk of your face just now."
Stubby blinked. "What?"
Elara sighed and lightly knocked on Raphael's head. "Manners."
Raphael touched his head, looking at her in mild confusion.
Stubby laughed, oblivious to the danger. "You two are cute. Almost looks like a little family—"
The glare Elara shot him could've burned down the entire cottage.
Before Stubby could keep running his mouth, the door suddenly burst open, and another man rushed in, looking pale and out of breath. His clothes were even more dirt-stained than Stubby's, proof that he had been running through rough terrain.
"Stubby! The boss needs you!"
Stubby turned, his usual grin disappearing. "What happened?"
The man swallowed hard. "The Balmount knights are here."
Stubby's entire expression darkened. He muttered under his breath, "What the hell do those thieving knights want now?"
Elara felt something shift in the air, a heaviness settling over the room. She whispered, "Something doesn't feel right."
Outside the cottage
The leader knight stepped forward, his smug expression unwavering. "We've received... troubling reports," he began, his tone slow and deliberate, as if savoring every word. "Robberies. Bandit attacks. People disappearing in the woods. And every witness, every survivor, points a trembling finger in your direction."
The boss met his gaze without flinching. "Then maybe you should stop believing every coward who pisses himself the moment a shadow moves."
A few of the knights shifted, their hands resting on their weapons, but their leader chuckled. "Bold words. But here's the problem—you lot have been a thorn in the king's side for a while now. He's grown tired of your... existence. So, he's given a simple order: clear out by the end of the week."
The boss's men erupted.
"That's bullshit!" one barked.
"We've done nothing wrong!" another shouted.
"Why don't you cowards come clean and admit you just want us gone?"
The leader knight sighed, shaking his head. "You're awfully loud for a bunch of accused criminals."
The boss raised a hand, silencing his men before speaking, his voice calm but firm. "We're not leaving."
The knight grinned, as if amused by a child's defiance. "Oh, you will. One way or another."
"Give us a week," the boss said, his tone unyielding. "We'll bring you the real culprits."
One of the younger knights scoffed, stepping forward. "Who do you think you are to negotiate?" he sneered. "You're filth. Begging for mercy would be more fitting."
The boss didn't even glance at him. He kept his eyes on the leader knight. "It's not a negotiation. It's an offer. One you'd be smart to take."
The young knight growled, hand flying to his sword. "You dare—"
"Are you seriously pulling your sword right now?" the leader snapped, his voice laced with irritation. The younger knight stiffened before reluctantly sheathing his weapon, though his glare remained.
The leader knight exhaled through his nose, his smirk returning. "Fine," he said at last. "A week. But if you fail…" He stepped closer, voice lowering to a taunting whisper. "If you don't want trouble for the girl you consider a daughter, I suggest you stop looking at me with that disgusting face of yours."
Then, with a sudden, brutal motion, he slammed his fist into the boss's face.
The boss stumbled back slightly, but before his men could react, his hand shot up—a silent order to stand down.
The leader knight chuckled, stepping back. "See you in a week," he said mockingly before turning to leave. His gaze flickered to Elara, standing by the cottage with Raphael and Stubby. He smirked at her, eyes lingering a second too long. Raphael, standing rigid, bared his fangs ever so slightly, his sharp eyes locked on the knight.
The other knights followed their leader, one of them spitting on the ground as they passed the boss.
The moment they were gone, the camp erupted in fury.
"Why the hell do we have to listen to those bastards?"
"Let's just kill them now and be done with it!"
"They treat us like criminals—we might as well act like it!"
The tension thickened, voices rising, rage spilling over.
And then, Stubby stepped forward. "ENOUGH!"
The force of his voice silenced the camp. All eyes turned to him.
"Think for once!" Stubby said, his voice edged with frustration. "The boss has been trying his damn hardest to keep us safe, and what do you all want to do? Throw it away for some reckless fight? You think we can win against them? Even if we kill them here, more will come. And then what?!"
Some of the men looked away, fists clenched. Others exhaled sharply, acknowledging the truth in his words.
"The boss just took a punch for us," Stubby continued, his voice steady but strong. "He kept his cool when any of us would've lost it. He gave us a chance. A real chance. So instead of whining, how about we do what he says and prove them wrong?"
Silence.
Then, one by one, the men began nodding, their anger cooling into something more focused. Determination.
The boss met Stubby's gaze and gave him a small nod of gratitude.
"We're not leaving," the boss said again, this time with even more certainty. "This is our home. And no one is taking it from us."
A slow cheer built up, then grew louder. The men shouted in agreement, rallying around their leader.
Stubby smirked, clapping the boss on the back. "Glad you're still smarter than you look."
The boss let out a small chuckle. "You're not as dumb as I thought either."
Elara, watching from the side, smiled softly. Raphael, still rigid, kept his gaze locked on the path where the knights had disappeared. His instincts screamed that this wasn't the end.
Deep in the Forest
As the knights trudged through the thick forest, their boots crunching against fallen leaves and damp earth, frustration boiled over among them.
"This is a damn joke," one knight growled, his voice dripping with disdain. "Giving those filthy lowlives a chance? Why the hell are we playing games with them?"
Another knight, walking just beside him, scoffed. "A week? We're actually giving them a whole damn week to prove their innocence? Since when do we give scum the benefit of the doubt?"
The leader, walking ahead, remained calm, his hands clasped behind his back as he navigated the narrow path. He didn't look back as he spoke, his voice smooth, almost amused. "Because they think they have a chance."
The knight furrowed his brows. "What?"
The leader let out a slow chuckle. "That's what makes it interesting. We're not just throwing them to the wolves—we're making them believe they can escape first. Let them scramble, let them fight for their so-called justice. It makes the fall that much sweeter."
One of the knights, older and more seasoned, frowned. "Isn't it a waste of time? We should've just cut them down today and been done with it."
The leader finally stopped, turning slightly to glance over his shoulder. "And if we did that, what would we gain?" He let the question hang in the air before answering it himself. "A pile of corpses, sure. But no entertainment. No satisfaction. No lesson."
The knight who had spoken earlier gritted his teeth. "I don't care about entertainment. They should be dead."
The leader smirked. "And they will be. But imagine it—their desperation growing each day, their hope turning into panic. They'll start doubting each other, tearing themselves apart. By the time we come back, they'll be so broken that taking them out will be nothing more than a formality."
Another knight chuckled darkly. "It's always better when they lose everything before they die."
The frustrated knight exhaled sharply, still unconvinced. "I just don't like seeing their kind acting like they're on the same level as us."
The leader turned fully now, his gray eyes gleaming with cruel amusement. "And that's why we let them play their little game. They'll think they have control, think they can change their fate. And when we take it all away, they'll finally understand their place."
The first knight grumbled but said nothing more, though his fists remained clenched. Another knight, who had been silent the entire time, finally spoke, his tone casual. "What about the girl?"
The leader's smirk deepened. "What about her?"
"That old man—he clearly cares about her."
"That's the best part," the leader mused. "He'll fight harder, struggle more, all for something he can't protect. And when the time comes…" He trailed off, his smirk widening.
The silent knight nodded. "Should we take her when we return?"
"Perhaps," the leader said, feigning indifference. "But not before we make him watch everything fall apart."
The knights exchanged glances, dark amusement flickering in their expressions.
The angry knight let out a short breath, finally smirking. "Alright. I see your point now."
The leader turned back toward the path and continued walking. "Good. Now be patient. Their week starts now, but it won't be a pleasant one."
As they disappeared deeper into the forest, the only sounds left were the distant chirps of birds and the fading crunch of their boots against the earth.
Meanwhile
The hideout was alive with noise, men shouting, laughing, and throwing jabs at each other as the boss stood in front of them, arms crossed. Behind him, Elara and Stubby stood on either side of Raphael, who, as usual, remained silent.
"This kid here will be staying with us for a while," the boss announced, nodding toward Raphael. "He's the quiet type, so don't expect much conversation."
There was a brief pause before the men started murmuring among themselves. A few of them stared at Raphael's fox-like ears, twitching at the slightest sound, and his fluffy tail that, oddly enough, wasn't moving.
"Hey, boss," one of the men called out, grinning. "Where'd you find a beastboy? Ain't he a little too cute to be hanging around with us?"
"He looks more like a pet than a fighter," another joked. "Should we start calling him Little Fox?"
Laughter rippled through the crowd, but Raphael's expression didn't change. His tail remained still, his gaze distant.
"Alright, alright, don't start treating him like some mascot," the boss said, shaking his head.
The men, ignoring the warning, closed in, their curiosity too strong to resist.
"So, kid, where you from?"
"You like meat or fish?"
"How old are you? Can you even fight?"
"Can I touch your tail?"
Raphael's ears twitched at the overwhelming number of questions. His fingers curled slightly, but before anything could happen, Elara sighed and grabbed his wrist, pulling him back.
"Enough," she scolded. "You're acting like you've never seen another person before."
"But he ain't a person—he's a fox boy!" someone called out, and another round of laughter erupted.
The boss let them have their fun for a moment before finally speaking again. "Alright, enough messing around. Give him some space. He'll warm up eventually."
The men nodded, though a few still sneaked glances at Raphael, who stood stiffly beside Elara.
Then, as if sensing the tension in the air, the boss clapped his hands together. "We're wasting daylight. Why don't we head down to the waterfall and enjoy ourselves?"
A loud cheer erupted from the group.
"Yeah! Let's go before those bastard knights ruin our mood again!"
As the men started preparing, Stubby casually leaned toward Elara with a smirk. "Can't wait to see you in the bath."
Elara froze. The playful gleam in Stubby's eyes told her he knew exactly what he was doing.
A second later, a loud thud echoed through the hideout as Stubby crumpled to the ground, clutching his stomach.
"Get those thoughts out of your head," Elara warned, cracking her knuckles. "Or I'll show you a view of the stars instead."
The men howled with laughter, clapping and jeering at Stubby, who groaned. "Damn… worth it, though…"
"Was it?" Elara asked, raising a fist again. Stubby flinched and scrambled to his feet. "Never mind, I take it back!"
Even Raphael, watching quietly, felt the corner of his mouth twitch upward.
By the time they reached the waterfall, the sound of rushing water filled the air. The men wasted no time stripping down and jumping in, splashing, shouting, and throwing each other into the water.
A group attempted to catch fish with their bare hands. Their failure rate was impressive.
"Hold still, damn it!"
"Stop slapping the water, you're scaring them!"
"Why does the fish look like it's laughing at me?"
Meanwhile, another group took turns diving off the rocks, each trying to outdo the last with ridiculous poses mid-air.
The boss, usually composed and commanding, had finally relaxed, floating lazily in the water. That peace lasted about five seconds before one of the men was pushed into him.
A loud splash followed.
The boss surfaced, spitting out water. He wiped his face, slowly turning toward the guilty parties—who, realizing their mistake, were already climbing out of the water as fast as they could.
"Oh, you little—"
Before he could finish, the boss lunged after them, roaring curses as the men scattered, laughing like madmen as they ran for their lives.
Elara, having found a quiet spot in the water, sighed, relieved to be away from the chaos. But her peace was short-lived as Stubby swam up beside her, leaning against a rock like he owned the place.
"You know, Elara," he said smoothly, "the moonlight would look great reflecting off your eyes in the water."
Elara slowly turned her head to look at him. "Stubby."
"Yes, my love?"
"Get. Out."
She promptly shoved him underwater. Bubbles rose violently to the surface before Stubby resurfaced, coughing. "That's no way to treat the future love of your life—"
Splash!
Elara shoved him under again.
Nearby, Raphael stood at the edge of the water, watching everything unfold with his usual blank expression. He had no intention of joining in—until he heard footsteps creeping up behind him.
He tensed.
Two of the men were trying to sneak up on him, grinning mischievously. Just as they lunged to push him in—
Raphael sidestepped.
The two men flailed as they tumbled forward, falling straight into the water with a loud splash!
Unfortunately for Raphael, one of them grabbed his tail at the last second. Before he could react, he was yanked into the water.
For a brief moment, everything was silent.
The men who had pulled him in surfaced first, looking at each other in fear. The entire group stopped playing around, watching and waiting for Raphael to react.
Was he going to get angry? Attack them? Walk out of the water and disappear forever?
Then—
Raphael started laughing.
It wasn't loud, but it was real. A genuine, light chuckle that surprised everyone.
The men blinked at him before bursting into laughter as well, relieved. Even Elara, who had been busy drowning Stubby, turned to look, her lips curling into a small smile.
For the first time in a long while, Raphael didn't feel like an outsider.
He felt like he belonged.
Night settled over the hideout, the campfire crackling as it illuminated the faces of the men gathered around it. Laughter filled the air as they roasted meat and exchanged stories, the tension from earlier in the day seemingly forgotten. But inside one of the cottages, the conversation was far more serious.
The boss sat at a wooden table, arms crossed, deep in thought. Across from him, Stubby leaned forward, scratching his head. "Boss," he started, his voice low, "how the hell are we gonna find these so-called robbers in a week? We're the only ones who live in this damn forest."
The boss let out a long sigh. "That's the problem. We're being set up."
Stubby's brows furrowed. "I figured as much. Those knights didn't come here with a request—they came with a warning."
The boss nodded, his fingers tapping the table. "They want us gone. This isn't about some robbers."
Stubby huffed. "So what do we do? We got no proof that it ain't us, and even if we did, those bastards wouldn't care."
The boss smirked. "That's why we don't give them proof. We give them a bigger problem."
Stubby blinked. "…I'm afraid to ask what you mean by that."
The boss leaned forward, his voice calm but firm. "We find the real robbers before they do. If the knights think they've already lost control of the situation, they'll be forced to deal with it themselves. They won't have time to come after us."
Stubby whistled. "That's risky. What if there ain't any real robbers?"
"Then we make one," the boss said simply.
Stubby stared at him. "Boss, that is both the smartest and dumbest thing I've ever heard."
The boss chuckled. "Welcome to leadership."
Stubby groaned, rubbing his face. "Fine. Fine. I'll trust you on this. But if this backfires, I'm throwing you in front of Elara and telling her it was your idea."
The boss narrowed his eyes. "You really do have a death wish, don't you?"
Stubby grinned. "Nah, just a survival instinct. If anyone can scare the knights off, it's her."
The boss chuckled, shaking his head. "Get out of here and enjoy the fire before I change my mind and actually throw you to Elara."
Stubby quickly stood, heading toward the door. "I was already going. Enjoy your deep, brooding thoughts."
The boss waved him off, leaning back in his chair with a sigh. He knew their time was running out, but for tonight, he'd let his men have their peace.
The Campfire Night
The night was alive with the crackling of the fire and the loud voices of the men. Plates were passed around, filled with roasted meat and whatever scraps they could find worth eating. A few of the men argued about who got the biggest piece, others boasted about past fights they clearly didn't win, and a group in the corner was deep in a very serious, very intense debate about whether it was possible to wrestle an ogre and survive.
At the center of it all sat Raphael, quiet as ever, taking it all in.
Elara sat beside him, absently chewing on a piece of bread while keeping an eye on the chaos around them. Stubby, who hadn't fully arrived yet, was naturally at the center of most of it.
"Listen, listen," Stubby said, waving a drumstick like it was a sword. "All I'm saying is—if I had been born a noble, I'd be running a kingdom by now."
That earned a chorus of groans.
"Stubby, you can't even run a bath without flooding the place!" one man called out.
Another pointed at him. "Remember when he tried to lead us through the mountains and got us lost for two days?!"
"Two days?!" another man scoffed. "Try four! And we ran out of food, you idiot!"
Stubby slammed his fist on the log he was sitting on. "Okay, in my defense, that mountain looked exactly like the one on the map!"
"BECAUSE IT WAS THE ONE ON THE MAP! YOU JUST READ IT UPSIDE DOWN!"
The group roared with laughter, men slapping their knees, some nearly falling over from laughing too hard. Even Elara shook her head, smirking.
Stubby huffed. "Whatever. At least I don't snore like a dying boar—"
"THAT'S YOU, YOU IDIOT!" someone interrupted, setting off another wave of laughter.
Elara turned to Raphael, who had been sitting quietly the whole time, his ears twitching slightly at all the noise. "I told you," she muttered with a knowing smirk. "They argue about everything."
Raphael didn't say anything at first. He had been watching them all, observing their interactions, their ease with each other. The way they could insult one another but still laugh like brothers.
It was strange.
It was…warm.
Without really thinking about it, he softly muttered, "Raphael."
Elara barely caught it over the noise, her ears perking up. She turned her head toward him. "What?"
He hesitated, his gaze lowering slightly. Then, a little clearer, he repeated, "Raphael."
Elara blinked. Then a slow, warm smile spread across her lips.
Before she could say anything, someone in the group suddenly called out, "Hey! What do we even call the kid, anyway?!"
That was all it took.
The group exploded into chaos.
"Foxy!"
"Nah, that's boring. How about Big Ears?"
"Big Ears?! His ears aren't even that big!"
"Fine! Little Tail!"
"Why are all your names terrible? Let's call him Silent!"
"What if we name him after an animal? Like Wolf?"
"He's not a wolf, you dumbass—"
"Okay, okay! What about something intimidating? Like…Shadow!"
The entire group groaned. "Ugh, Shadow? That's what a twelve-year-old names himself when he thinks he's mysterious!"
Elara, who had been watching the disaster unfold with increasing amusement, finally stood up and raised her hands. "Enough! His name is Raphael."
The group fell silent.
Then one of the men nodded. "Raphael, huh? Not bad."
Another grinned. "Sounds fancy. You a noble or somethin'?"
Raphael just blinked at them.
"Yeah, right," another snorted. "A noble would've either run away screaming from us or tried to get us arrested by now."
One of the men, still bitter about his failed name suggestion, grumbled, "I still think Little Tail had a nice ring to it…"
Before they could start arguing again, someone was suddenly smacked in the face with a fish.
Silence.
Then chaos.
"WHO THE HELL JUST THREW A FISH?!"
The man who had been hit wiped fish guts from his face, looking around murderously. Another man was already halfway out of his seat, trying to escape.
"IT WAS HIM!" someone pointed, throwing another fish for good measure.
The victim lunged at the accused, sending them both crashing into the dirt, wrestling like madmen. Others immediately started egging them on, placing bets, or laughing too hard to breathe.
Elara sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Idiots," she muttered.
Raphael just watched it all, unsure whether this was normal behavior.
Then, something caught his eye.
A shadow.
Just for a split second.
A flicker of movement at the edge of the firelight.
His ears twitched, his entire body stilling as his sharp eyes locked onto the treeline. He could hear laughter, shouting, the crackling of the fire—
But beyond that, in the silence of the forest, something had shifted.
He stood up instinctively, his gaze locked on the darkness.
Elara noticed and frowned. "Raphael?"
He didn't answer right away. He stared for a moment longer, waiting…
But the shadow was gone.
Nothing but trees.
His ears twitched again.
Was it just his imagination?
Or was something watching them?
Slowly, he sat back down, but his body remained tense.
Elara gave him a look, but when he didn't explain, she let it drop.
The laughter around them continued, the warmth of the fire flickering against their faces.
But Raphael didn't laugh.
He kept his eyes on the darkness.