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When it came down to it, a lot of orphans were in no way lucky enough to be taken in by the loving, supportive families that they longed for. Some were taken in by a pair of abusive drunks. Some were forced to join highly strict, or overly religious families that expected to much of them. There were a lot of negative truths behind what could happen to an orphan once they were adopted. There were a lot of issues with joining a family at any age - though, the older ones always tended to hold the more difficult problems. The older the child, the more complex the issue would be. This would bring about complications in terms of developing emotional bonds, which led to high levels of conflict. Such tended to be the worst case scenarios, or at least they were considered as such. They were viewed as the least wanted circumstances simply because they were the ones that had met the eyes of the media. However, the was one well known, and highly common situation that nearly everyone had heard of.

A situation which resolved around greed, and deceit. There were couples that would adopt a child simply for the money that they could gain for doing so. In situations such as these, is was not uncommon for the adopted child to wind up undergoing some form of abuse. In some cases, it would be physical. The child would be struck over the slightest form of disobedience as an means of instilling fear into them. At times, the child would be forced into a lifestyle that could be compared to that of the tale of Cinderella. A great deal of verbal abuse, lack of any form of compassion, and a heavy list of chores which needed to be completed in a timely manner. Severe punishments would be handed out on a whim, depending on the mood or nature of the adoptive parents. In the case of a young brunette girl by the name of Amber, being compared to Cinderella was an understatement. In her case, there would be no fairy godmother that would appear in the nick of time so that her life could be improved.

There were no friendly mice, or affectionate birds in which she could call friends. At the most, there was a rat living somewhere in the house that seemed to have taken a fancy to her. Though, all it seemed capable of doing was chewing through the various electrical wires found in the house. How the little rodent managed to do so without shocking herself, she had no idea. Perhaps that was magic in its own right. If that were the case, then when exactly would her “Fairy Godmother” appear to make her life better? She dared not get her hopes up about such things. She knew that the world was in no way a fairy tale. There would be nothing akin to a magical being making its debut in her life. The odds of her remaining trapped in her nightmare of a life were exceptionally high, given the circumstances.

She had learned that quite some time ago, when she dared to try and bring the cruelty of her foster parents into light. Within the first six months of having being adopted, she had reached the conclusion that she would have been better off at the orphanage. The pair who had adopted her were prone to denying her food as means of punishment. At times, they would completely flip the circumstances of said disciplinary act, and take to feeding her until she began to gag. Such was just one of a handful of behaviors that were used to keep her in her place, and she had almost immediately began to despise them for it. When someone from the state had paid the three of them a visit to ensure that she was adjusting to her new home properly, she had made a move to make this clear to them. The end result being that a short instigation was performed, and there was no substantial truth of her mistreament found. As such, she ended up being left with her foster parents, who had made her life something even more akin to hell for nearly a month after her “Stunt”. That had been the one and only time that she had made a move to seek out help. After what had been done to her, it only took once for a permanent lessen to be learned.

That lessen was, don’t seek out help. Not unless you have a means of proving the injustice on the spot, to prevent any chance of people finding room for it to be a lie. As it were, she utterly lacked the capability of proving much of anything on the spot. As a result, the past seven years of her life had been far from pleasant. Her daily routine began by forcing her tired body out of bed at four o’clock in the morning. From there, she was to collect all of the trash throughout the house - save for her foster parents’ room - and dispose of it. If the can was full by the end of it, then she was to take the heavy bag out and throw it into the dumpster so that the Garbage men could retrieve it at a later date. Then, of course, she would need to place a new bag in the trash can. When all of that was done, then she was to do a second run throughout the house and gather all of the dirty laundry - while, again, avoiding her foster parents’ room. The soiled clothes were then taken to the hamper, and if it was full, then it was expected of her to put them through the wash.

At times she had made the bold decision to let the laundry alone until later in the day, but typically, she would do her job and then move onto her next chore. With the clothes taken care of - or ignored if she had chanced a punishment - she would proceed to the kitchen, where it was her task to clean the counters, sweep, and mop the floor. Whatever debris that had been collected from the tile surfaces was, naturally, deposited into the trash can. As soon as the kitchen surfaces were taken care of, she would feed her foster parents’ three dogs, and change their water. Two of the dogs were clear cut mutts, which seemed to hold the physical characteristics of Boxers and Mastiffs. The third - and most well behaved of the dogs - was an old Pitbull named Shila. The Pit happened the be the only of the canines that Amber was capable of getting along with. This was primarily due to her intelligence, and how well trained she was. Of the three dogs, Shila was the only one who seemed capable of understanding the importance of sitting and waiting for the food to be properly poured into her bowl. The Pit was also the only of the trio that was smart enough to not bark and every minor disturbance to the surrounding silence.

The mutts would, quite literally, be sent into a fit of crazed barking at the rustling of a fallen leaf. As such, it was rare for the night to be left quite for more than an hour at a time. Though, that may have been an over-estimation of the amount of time that would span between their fits of crazed barking. Once the canines had been tended to, Amber was free to prepare a simple breakfast for herself. Her usual morning meal consisted of one poached egg, a piece of buttered toast, and one slice of bacon. Sometimes she would only be allowed to pick one of the two protein sources, and at such times, she would always go with the egg. Based on the amount of time she spent taking account for their different weights, the egg always seemed to be heavier. Hence, an egg on toast would be more filling - and less salty - than bacon and toast. By the time her food was cooked and she was ready to eat, the time would usually be six o’clock AM. She would have ten minutes at most to eat her food, fifteen at most, depending on how misbehaved the dogs had been.

Then, she would leave the prison that was her home in order to reach the bus stop in time to board the bulky vehicle. The next seven and a half hours of school were, in a way, her time of sanctuary away from her duties under the heel of her foster parents’. At the ripe old age of thirteen, Amber was still attending her last season of Middle School. In her second semester, her classes consisted of a make up course for basic algebra - something difficult to pass, given how little free time she was allowed. Two different English classes took up the middle part of her morning, before her grade was dismissed for lunch. The day of the week would, of course, determine what meal she would be claiming for the climax of the day. Of the five different meals that were available throughout the week, she favored Thursday’s lunch above the rest. Given her food limitations at home, it was a blessing to be able to claim an entire baked chicken breast, a cup of milk, and a frozen fruit juice for a single meal. When lunch was over and done with, her following three classes were Health, Physical Education - which she hated - and Biology. The Health class seemed to be the most exciting required course, given her current progress in the year.

She rather enjoyed the ability to learn the differences between her body, and the anatomy of the various males that were in her class. What she had managed to learn thanks to said class made it clear that she was better off looking to books for any unanswered questions. If she were stupid enough to try and find the answers without the help of written information, then she would be likely to wind up with a disease, or a fetus that she would have no means of taking care of. Neither of those outlooks were anywhere in the grey zone that she could consider tolerable. When her time at school was over, Amber would partake in a twenty minute ride back to her home of a prison. From there, she would take all of her school necessities to her room, and leave them by the dresser. Afterwards, came her next set of chores. She would give the dogs fresh food - which usually resulted in one of the mutts tackling her in order to claim their dinner before she could put it in their bowl. When she finished feeding the dogs, Amber would then go inside to re-sweep and mop the kitchen. Then she would clean out the microwave, and disinfect the surface of the refrigerator.

Upon finishing with that, she would resume laundry duty by moving the clothes from the washing machine to the dryer. Once that was taken care of, she would vacuum the various carpets that were arranged throughout the house. After she finished vacuuming, she emptied out the debris that had collected within it. By the time she had concluded that task, the laundry would need her attention once again. Hence, she would proceed to remove the clothing from the dryer, then she would transport them to the couch to tend to it. From there, the clothes would be folded and arranged into piles according to who wore it. Pants on the bottom, then socks, then shirts, and last undergarments. The clothes were layered on top of each other in a way that would prevent them from falling all over the place once they were moved off of the couch. When she was done tending to the laundry, it was left on the couch so that she could get to work on prepping the nights meal. The cruel irony of living with her foster parents’ was that she was often around ideal quantities of food, but not allowed to eat it without permission.

As it were, her foster parents’ kept a close eye on everything in the fridge. Every slice of bacon, every egg, every piece of break. Her foster father would take account for every single scrap of food in order to ensure complete and total control over her. This even applied to anything and everything that she might cook. Every recipe that she knew only acted as another means of keeping control over her. Her foster father knew the exact quantities of every ingredient of every recipe that she knew. She lacked any possible means of sneaking food. The meal she would prepare herself come every morning only took place because the tyrant she was otherwise forced to call her father gave her verbal permission to do so. In the event that he changed his mind, she would be forced to go without breakfast on a daily basis until he told her otherwise. Such was the fearful way of life that she had been forced to endure for the past seven years.

The meal she would prepare was all dependent on what had been instructed of her. Prior to making any preparations or forming any ideas as to what might be suitable for the nights dinner, she would check her foster parents’ bedroom door. There would be a note attached to said door with a colored thumbtack. On a side note, should there be a red tack holding up the note, the implication would be different. Green, was the signal for go. A green tack meant that she would be allowed to eat dinner. Yellow meant caution. A yellow tack implied that she was allowed to eat, but if she wished to not be punished over nothing, she was to take her food and eat in privacy. As all who knew the basic rules of driving knew, red, meant to stop. Should a red tack be found in place of a green or a yellow, then she would not be permitted to eat any of the food she made for supper.

Hence, she naturally feared every trip down the hall to her foster parents’ bedroom. Relief would flood her system nearly every time she found the note being held in place by a green thumbtack. The meal she would prepare was entirely dependant on what she found written on the note. Naturally the food would be made in accordance to the recipe known to the family. Her foster parents’ would arrive long before the food could go cold. Typically one of them would set food through the door before the meal had even finished cooking. Her foster mother - Michelle - worked at a local fast food chain. One of the many places that sold cheap Hamburgers and soggy French-Fry’s round the clock. Her foster father - Conner - acted as a security guard of sorts.

She had yet to uncover the real name of the job, but he would stand outside a bar and monitor who did and did not go inside. In the event of a fight, it would be his job to go inside, break it up, and throw out those who had caused the disturbance. The man also seemed to suffer from a sever case of Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. She had little idea as to whether or not that might be true, though from her perspective, it would explain his innate ability to keep track of the food so well. Regardless, their meal would not begin until after both of Amber’s foster parents’ had arrived. Once they were there, the three of them would begin to eat. Her role as their private house slave would continue, naturally. After Conner performed his routine inspection of the meal in order to ensure that she had neither eaten any of it or used more than what was needed for the recipe. Only when he had deemed that the food was properly made, would he allow them to begin their meal. She was expected to serve them their food first, and then she would claim her share so that she could eat.

When supper was over and done with, she would be the one to clean all of the dishes, and put away any leftovers. More often than not, she would deposit all remaining leftovers into a pair of clear plastic containers. Her foster parents’ would take said containers home with them, and use them as their lunch while they were at work. When she finished taking care of the leftovers and the dishes, then she would go straight to her room. Partially because as far as her foster parents’ were concerned, as soon as dinner was over, it was bedtime for her. All that really indicated though, was that she had to hide in her room until morning. Michelle and Conner enjoyed spending their time outside of work by watching some not-so-age appropriate movies and enjoying adult beverages. There were a handful of nights where she wished that she had a means of blocking out all the noise they were capable of making. The hellions were blatantly incapable of properly caring for their adopted child. Perish the thought of their antics bringing another kid into their poor excuse for a family.

Upon entering her bedroom, Amber would remain awake until eleven o’clock at night. That time would be primarily spent tending to her homework and her various studies, while about half an hours worth of it would be directed at personal hygiene. When eleven o’clock rolled around, that was when she would put all of her things away, and lie down so that she could sleep.
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All she could feel, was panic. The eerie, yet desperate call that met her ears only proved to add to that fact. Fear; anxiety; distress. No matter the word that could be used to describe her emotional turmoil, it all meant the same. She was caught in an overwhelming state of panic. For reasons she could not explain, she was running. The trees and greenery of her surroundings were little more than blurs due to her speed. Initially, she had no understanding as to where she was going - it seemed as though she was not the one in control of her actions.When a second, louder version of that same desperate cry met her ears, that was when it became clear. Although she was doing so against her own will, it was painfully obvious that she was seeking out the source of that pained call.

Flashes of white began to meet her lane of vision as she darted through the landscape. Even through her state of confusion, she was able to recognize the cause of the pristine shade that met her sight. The chill that gradually became more noticeable in the air only proved to reinforce her knowledge. Before long, the surrounding greenery completely vanished, only to be replaced by thick sheets of snow and ice. Her limbs ached from the strain of her running, and her chest stung as result of the dramatic change in the air temperature. She wanted to stop - but her body was ever reluctant to pay her mind the time of day. The ice stung her hands and feet, making her feel as though they might have started to bleed at one point. She could feel her eyes watering as a result of the cold air that was meeting them, and her nose had long since started to drip a rather unpleasant fluid. In blunt terms, she felt terrible on a physical and emotional level. The impending fear of dread did little to convince her that she was not charging towards a less than agreeable fate.

The layers of frost abruptly became thick, towering walls of frozen stone. Her body paused on its own accord, and she spent a few seconds looking around. Yet another desperate call for help met her ears, and she darted towards it. An unusual heat took this as its cue to appear. She had no understanding as to where the sudden warmth came from, though she gladly welcomed it. She was the type to prefer hot weather over cold weather in the long run. The yellow glow of an unseen light began to cast its shine across the frozen city-scape that she trailed through. The blurred images of people began to meet her lane of vision as she darted through the streets. As she grew closer to them, another set of noises began to meet her ears. They were the shouts of dozens of angry men, and the clatter of the various metal items that they had collected in order to weaponize.

The miniature army of men charged at her, seeming to be furious at her very presence among them. She wanted to turn and run - to get as far away from the violent group of masculine figures. For all she was worth, she commanded her body to obey her mental desires. The exact opposite is what went on to happen. She charged towards the mob, winding her way through them in every which direction in order to avoid the bitter sting of their attacks. As she did this, she was given the chance to take the cause of the unknown light into consideration. Fire. There were nearly a dozen orbs of fire spread throughout the town, attached to buildings in order to melt the thick sheets of ice. She had no idea as to where the abnormal bundles of flame had emerged from. There had been no fire present when she passed between the various buildings and alleyways.

The fires had literally emerged without cause. In the long run, it was foolish of her to let her attention linger on spontaneous flames for even a moment. That handful of seconds where her focus was on the fire, rather than the hoard of rampaging men that seemed intent on harming her. That mistake earned her an agonizing wound at the hands of what seemed to be a pitch-fork. The voice that escaped her upon being struck was in no way recognizable as her own, though her mind was incapable of calling that to attention. For once, her body seemed to obey her mental will as she began to try and tear away from the weapon that had been thrust into her back. The blood which poured from her wound felt as though it burned her skin, but it cooled to the point of chilling her body within seconds of being exposed to the freezing air. By means of a miracle, she managed to pry her frame free from the piercing grip of the pitch-fork. Though, in the end, doing so would do nothing to remove the pain that coursed through her body. Another desperate cry met her ears, reawakening the free will of her body in the process.

Against her desire to leave it be, her body turned towards the source of the sound. Her eyes would have widened from surprise had they not began to steadily fall closed as result of the sense of weakness flowing through her body. Her limbs began to tremble, eventually losing the ability to support her weight. Though she could not comprehend the reason for doing so, she began to crawl towards the now known cause of the distressful calls for help. A fox. A beautiful, silver haired fox, with a tail that looked as though it were made of pure snow. The wonder of the beast shown intently, even dispite the bloody patches of fur that lined its image. Her body eventually lost the ability to move, and even yet, her frame behaved as if desperate to reach the heavily wounded and chained creature. In the end, she could do little more but fall still and accept her fate. When this happen, an unusual sense of regret mingled in with the unwanted calmness that overtook her as result of her impending doom.

Her vision began to betray her as the assaulting darkness overtook her sight. Her last image in life - not that she would remember it - would be that of the silver fox. As she faded out of existence entirely, she was able to see as the wounded creature attempted to fight its way out of its chains as it reached for her. Such a pity it was, that she seemed to be just beyond its farthest reach. Her mind vanished into nothingness before she could do so much as offer the poor beast anything akin to comfort.
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The young woman woke with a start to feel an ever familiar ache in her back. As soon as she woke, she forced herself out of bed in order to mindlessly roam the confined space of her room. She did so not because she was in search of something, but because the act alone was enough to calm her. She kept her arms wound tightly around her shoulders, seeking to provide herself with something akin to a comforting touch. This behavior has become an instinctive habit, given how long she had gone without anything akin to affection. Three years ago - likely at the halfway mark of her thirteenth year - Amber had began to experience lucid dreams. Although she could not remember the real details of these dreams, she could understand the basis of what she had experienced. With every dream - she was certain that there were more than one - it was as if she was in a body that was not her own. Her limbs would not obey her will. She was unable to make use of her voice.

Upon waking, there would always a throbbing pain coursing through her body. More often than not, the ache would resonate from her back alone. There would be three points of intense pain, which would gradually spread throughout her entire back. On a select number of nights, she would wake and feel as though she had been mauled. Random places on her body would throb uncomfortably. The days following those rare nights were often the most difficult for her to push through. Her limbs would be left so weak that she would wind up almost incapable of walking. Of course, this made it clear that doing so much as trying to lift her backpack would put her through hell and back. Over the years, she had come the the conclusion that it would be easier for her to cope with these sleep-induced pains if she could simply remember what her dreams had been about. She felt that if she could know and understand the details, then perhaps she would be better to better deal with the side effects.

Doing so much as thinking about her dreams would only further her agony. At times, she had managed to dig up a lone memory from her nocturnal mindset. One key recollection revolved around the overwhelming desire to escape. Another involved her being in a fight, although she had yet to dig deep enough into her memory to determine what exactly it was that she had gotten into a brawl with. The only other recollection from her dreams that she had, revolved around a fox. Sometimes her mental image of it was blurred, but no matter how many times she woke from a nightmare, she knew that she had seen it in her land of slumber. A large, silver fox with a pristine white tail and eyes that she was incapable of describing. The beautiful animal had appeared in every one of her nightmares for the past three years. That silver fox, was the only thing that she could wholeheartedly remember upon waking up. Without any need to delve into the innermost parts of her mind to try and piece the dream together, she would always remember the fox.

In the end, she would manage to calm down after around twenty minutes. By then, her morning alarm would ring, and it would be time to begin her daily routine. Trash collection and disposal, laundry, sweeping and mopping, the dogs. All were taken care of in a timely manner, although she would be due to suffer somewhat more when the easily excited mutts attempted to tackle her in order to get their food quicker. She had grown considerably in the past three years. As a result, she had managed to acquire extra leverage when the dogs made a move to knock her over. They could no longer push her onto her backside when they lunged. In the end, they would resort to wrapping their forelimbs around her legs in order to trip her, which did not work thanks to how carefully she would move. The issue came as a result of the pain that would linger after her nightmares. Whenever the dogs tried to push her over or trip her, they would put extra stain on her back.

This in turn would reawaken the dull throb that would remain with her throughout the day. When all morning chores were tended to, she was free to go about the task of making her breakfast. Although her dream world had become little more than a hell that would cause her lasting pain upon waking, her time in the world of consciousness had gone through a few somewhat pleasant changes. One of them being was that she was capable of having extra food when it came to her morning meal. This was not because her foster father had decided to be more lenient with her, but because she had found a means of earning money. Money which she would use to purchase a number of easily hidden food items. Cereal bars, canned soups, fruit snacks - anything that could be hidden in her closet or under her bed. Thanks to this simple but massive change in her food limitations, her immense fear of her foster parents’ had lessened somewhat. She still hated them for all that she was worth and viewed them as terrible people, but her fear had become less than overbearing regardless. All, in all, her change in breakfast choices were small - but extremely satisfying.

In addition to her poached egg, single slice of toast, and a piece of bacon, Amber was able to enjoy a bowl of instant oatmeal and a package of fruit snacks. The meal was filling and would provide her with all of the energy that she would need to make it through her day. She ate quickly to reduce the changes of either of her foster parents’ venturing down the stairs to catch her with food that they did not recognize. Afterwards, she carefully rinsed all of her dishes to ensure that none could recognize the oatmeal residue that had been left behind on her spoon. Her trash was taken with her after she collected her belongings and left the house. She deposited the unneeded rubbish in the small trash-can that rested at the entrance of the school bus once she stepped onto it. The ride wound up being somewhat longer than usual thanks to a minor accident that had blocked the usual route to school. The extra ten minutes of being jerked around at the hands of every minute bump that the vehicle happened across did little to ease the pain that coursed throughout her back. Hence, when she was able to get off of the crowded and otherwise smelly transport, she did so gladly. From there, she would travel straight to her first period class so that she could relax until the bell rang.

Now a Sophomore in High-school, her classes had taken a more sophisticated turn as result of the stricter, higher level education that she was expected to deal with. Her first subject of the day was Chemistry, and admittedly, she was not doing well in the class. The second and third classes were Geometry and an art class. Lunch took place at noon, and would last forty-five minutes. Unlike Middle-School, there were no real alternations when it came to the food that was served for the afternoon meal. There was a pizza station, a hamburger station, and a burrito station. Along with that was a small buffet that served all of the sides. There would always be salad, fruit, and a variety of drinks available. The desserts where what changed daily, though they typically alternated between chocolate pudding, Jell-O, and strawberry cupcakes. In the long run, she genuinely enjoyed the cupcakes.

Amber would change her lunch daily in order to keep herself from getting sick. She would also make sure to take her time while she ate, given that there was no reason to rush. Unlike at home, she was able to sit and savor every bite without fear of being reprimanded for doing so. By and by, she finished her meal just over ten minutes before the bell signaling the start of fourth period could ring. Just as with any other school day, she would take the opportunity to venture to the restroom so that she could take care of business. That would be when something far from normal went on to take place. While she was washing her hands, the young woman chanced a glance in the mirror to make sure that her face was clean. Upon doing so, her body became rigid with surprise at the sight of her reflection. No longer was she the young woman that she was so accustomed to seeing. While her face had remained the same, virtually every other aspect of her body had been altered.

Her typically brunette hair had grown light, causing it to appear blonde from her perspective. Brown eyes had shifted to blue, and her skin seemed somewhat lighter than it had ever been. Unintentionally, she began to squeeze the edge of the bathroom sink as she stared at her reflection, an expression of horror creeping onto her face as the seconds ticked by. Her ears were no longer her own. There were a pair of pointed, animalistic ears set in place of her original hearing organs. The fuzz covered appendages seemed to twitch with every beat of her panicked heart. Tears welled in her eyes and trailed down her cheeks as her body began to shake. The pain that had remained in her back throughout the day, using a mocking sense of compassion, took this as the opportunity to leave her presence. In Amber's mind, all the world around her seemed to have come to an abrupt halt. She was unable to emotionally comprehend the disturbing changes that had overtaken her body.

The otherwise calming chime of the school-bell did nothing to draw her attention. She stood rigid in the restroom even as all of the other teenagers in the school went about the business of returning to their classes. The symptoms of a panic attack began to work their way into her system shortly after the late bell rang. Her heart rate started to increase at a rapid pace. The ability to breathe became restricted, creating the illusion of suffocation. A completely different form of pain steadily took hold of her, threatening to overwhelm her mind and body to reduce her to nothing. Before her panic could reach a critical level and create a dangerous situation which she was incapable of avoiding, something managed to catch her eye. The flicker of a massive flame met her lane of vision, proving to be enough to force her attention away from the traumatic image that she had been staring at. She turned towards the glow on impulse to stare down at the unusual creature that had taken the opportunity to reveal itself to her. Unusual as it seemed to believe so, Amber felt as though she knew the "animal" that approached her.

Thick, yellow fur caught and reflected the dull light that cast down from the bathroom ceiling, causing it to take on a golden glow. Deep, ghostly blue eyes peered up at her intently, as though the being that housed them sought to ask something of her. Dull, reddish-brown splotches decorated the body and along the muzzle, creating the mock appearance of gore. None of this caught much, if any of her interest as she peered down at the creature. All of her focus was on the fiery, vibrantly illuminated appendage that seemed to act as the beings tail. The sight of this beast brought new meaning to the phrase "Fox-fire", given that this animal was clearly meant to be a fox. A large fox with a tail composed of nothing but a smooth, well kept flame. She kept her eyes locked on the beautiful, but painstakingly unnatural creature as it calmly stepped towards her. A dull throb began to sneak its way into the back of her mind, bringing about a sense of weakness that she had grown semi-accustomed to over the past few years. The eerie, but gentle whisper of a voice met her ears, though she was incapable of comprehending it.

Her mind began to fog at a rapid pace as the being drew closer to her. She felt the coarse texture of the fox's fur against her skin as it rubbed against her legs, guiding her a few steps away from the sink in the process. Her knees began to wobble as her strength quickly vacated her system, resulting in her collapsing onto the concrete floor. Consciousness left her at that time, her last image before her mind fell blank being that of the fire tailed fox.

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When it came down to it, a lot of orphans were in no way lucky enough to be taken in by the loving, supportive families that they longed for. Some were taken in by a pair of abusive drunks. Some were forced to join highly strict, or overly religious families that expected to much of them. There were a lot of negative truths behind what could happen to an orphan once they were adopted. There were a lot of issues with joining a family at any age - though, the older ones always tended to hold the more difficult problems. The older the child, the more complex the issue would be. This would bring about complications in terms of developing emotional bonds, which led to high levels of conflict. Such tended to be the worst case scenarios, or at least they were considered as such. They were viewed as the least wanted circumstances simply because they were the ones that had met the eyes of the media. However, the was one well known, and highly common situation that nearly everyone had heard of.

A situation which resolved around greed, and deceit. There were couples that would adopt a child simply for the money that they could gain for doing so. In situations such as these, is was not uncommon for the adopted child to wind up undergoing some form of abuse. In some cases, it would be physical. The child would be struck over the slightest form of disobedience as an means of instilling fear into them. At times, the child would be forced into a lifestyle that could be compared to that of the tale of Cinderella. A great deal of verbal abuse, lack of any form of compassion, and a heavy list of chores which needed to be completed in a timely manner. Severe punishments would be handed out on a whim, depending on the mood or nature of the adoptive parents. In the case of a young brunette girl by the name of Amber, being compared to Cinderella was an understatement. In her case, there would be no fairy godmother that would appear in the nick of time so that her life could be improved.

There were no friendly mice, or affectionate birds in which she could call friends. At the most, there was a rat living somewhere in the house that seemed to have taken a fancy to her. Though, all it seemed capable of doing was chewing through the various electrical wires found in the house. How the little rodent managed to do so without shocking herself, she had no idea. Perhaps that was magic in its own right. If that were the case, then when exactly would her “Fairy Godmother” appear to make her life better? She dared not get her hopes up about such things. She knew that the world was in no way a fairy tale. There would be nothing akin to a magical being making its debut in her life. The odds of her remaining trapped in her nightmare of a life were exceptionally high, given the circumstances.

She had learned that quite some time ago, when she dared to try and bring the cruelty of her foster parents into light. Within the first six months of having being adopted, she had reached the conclusion that she would have been better off at the orphanage. The pair who had adopted her were prone to denying her food as means of punishment. At times, they would completely flip the circumstances of said disciplinary act, and take to feeding her until she began to gag. Such was just one of a handful of behaviors that were used to keep her in her place, and she had almost immediately began to despise them for it. When someone from the state had paid the three of them a visit to ensure that she was adjusting to her new home properly, she had made a move to make this clear to them. The end result being that a short instigation was performed, and there was no substantial truth of her mistreament found. As such, she ended up being left with her foster parents, who had made her life something even more akin to hell for nearly a month after her “Stunt”. That had been the one and only time that she had made a move to seek out help. After what had been done to her, it only took once for a permanent lessen to be learned.

That lessen was, don’t seek out help. Not unless you have a means of proving the injustice on the spot, to prevent any chance of people finding room for it to be a lie. As it were, she utterly lacked the capability of proving much of anything on the spot. As a result, the past seven years of her life had been far from pleasant. Her daily routine began by forcing her tired body out of bed at four o’clock in the morning. From there, she was to collect all of the trash throughout the house - save for her foster parents’ room - and dispose of it. If the can was full by the end of it, then she was to take the heavy bag out and throw it into the dumpster so that the Garbage men could retrieve it at a later date. Then, of course, she would need to place a new bag in the trash can. When all of that was done, then she was to do a second run throughout the house and gather all of the dirty laundry - while, again, avoiding her foster parents’ room. The soiled clothes were then taken to the hamper, and if it was full, then it was expected of her to put them through the wash.

At times she had made the bold decision to let the laundry alone until later in the day, but typically, she would do her job and then move onto her next chore. With the clothes taken care of - or ignored if she had chanced a punishment - she would proceed to the kitchen, where it was her task to clean the counters, sweep, and mop the floor. Whatever debris that had been collected from the tile surfaces was, naturally, deposited into the trash can. As soon as the kitchen surfaces were taken care of, she would feed her foster parents’ three dogs, and change their water. Two of the dogs were clear cut mutts, which seemed to hold the physical characteristics of Boxers and Mastiffs. The third - and most well behaved of the dogs - was an old Pitbull named Shila. The Pit happened the be the only of the canines that Amber was capable of getting along with. This was primarily due to her intelligence, and how well trained she was. Of the three dogs, Shila was the only one who seemed capable of understanding the importance of sitting and waiting for the food to be properly poured into her bowl. The Pit was also the only of the trio that was smart enough to not bark and every minor disturbance to the surrounding silence.

The mutts would, quite literally, be sent into a fit of crazed barking at the rustling of a fallen leaf. As such, it was rare for the night to be left quite for more than an hour at a time. Though, that may have been an over-estimation of the amount of time that would span between their fits of crazed barking. Once the canines had been tended to, Amber was free to prepare a simple breakfast for herself. Her usual morning meal consisted of one poached egg, a piece of buttered toast, and one slice of bacon. Sometimes she would only be allowed to pick one of the two protein sources, and at such times, she would always go with the egg. Based on the amount of time she spent taking account for their different weights, the egg always seemed to be heavier. Hence, an egg on toast would be more filling - and less salty - than bacon and toast. By the time her food was cooked and she was ready to eat, the time would usually be six o’clock AM. She would have ten minutes at most to eat her food, fifteen at most, depending on how misbehaved the dogs had been.

Then, she would leave the prison that was her home in order to reach the bus stop in time to board the bulky vehicle. The next seven and a half hours of school were, in a way, her time of sanctuary away from her duties under the heel of her foster parents’. At the ripe old age of thirteen, Amber was still attending her last season of Middle School. In her second semester, her classes consisted of a make up course for basic algebra - something difficult to pass, given how little free time she was allowed. Two different English classes took up the middle part of her morning, before her grade was dismissed for lunch. The day of the week would, of course, determine what meal she would be claiming for the climax of the day. Of the five different meals that were available throughout the week, she favored Thursday’s lunch above the rest. Given her food limitations at home, it was a blessing to be able to claim an entire baked chicken breast, a cup of milk, and a frozen fruit juice for a single meal. When lunch was over and done with, her following three classes were Health, Physical Education - which she hated - and Biology. The Health class seemed to be the most exciting required course, given her current progress in the year.

She rather enjoyed the ability to learn the differences between her body, and the anatomy of the various males that were in her class. What she had managed to learn thanks to said class made it clear that she was better off looking to books for any unanswered questions. If she were stupid enough to try and find the answers without the help of written information, then she would be likely to wind up with a disease, or a fetus that she would have no means of taking care of. Neither of those outlooks were anywhere in the grey zone that she could consider tolerable. When her time at school was over, Amber would partake in a twenty minute ride back to her home of a prison. From there, she would take all of her school necessities to her room, and leave them by the dresser. Afterwards, came her next set of chores. She would give the dogs fresh food - which usually resulted in one of the mutts tackling her in order to claim their dinner before she could put it in their bowl. When she finished feeding the dogs, Amber would then go inside to re-sweep and mop the kitchen. Then she would clean out the microwave, and disinfect the surface of the refrigerator.

Upon finishing with that, she would resume laundry duty by moving the clothes from the washing machine to the dryer. Once that was taken care of, she would vacuum the various carpets that were arranged throughout the house. After she finished vacuuming, she emptied out the debris that had collected within it. By the time she had concluded that task, the laundry would need her attention once again. Hence, she would proceed to remove the clothing from the dryer, then she would transport them to the couch to tend to it. From there, the clothes would be folded and arranged into piles according to who wore it. Pants on the bottom, then socks, then shirts, and last undergarments. The clothes were layered on top of each other in a way that would prevent them from falling all over the place once they were moved off of the couch. When she was done tending to the laundry, it was left on the couch so that she could get to work on prepping the nights meal. The cruel irony of living with her foster parents’ was that she was often around ideal quantities of food, but not allowed to eat it without permission.

As it were, her foster parents’ kept a close eye on everything in the fridge. Every slice of bacon, every egg, every piece of break. Her foster father would take account for every single scrap of food in order to ensure complete and total control over her. This even applied to anything and everything that she might cook. Every recipe that she knew only acted as another means of keeping control over her. Her foster father knew the exact quantities of every ingredient of every recipe that she knew. She lacked any possible means of sneaking food. The meal she would prepare herself come every morning only took place because the tyrant she was otherwise forced to call her father gave her verbal permission to do so. In the event that he changed his mind, she would be forced to go without breakfast on a daily basis until he told her otherwise. Such was the fearful way of life that she had been forced to endure for the past seven years.

The meal she would prepare was all dependent on what had been instructed of her. Prior to making any preparations or forming any ideas as to what might be suitable for the nights dinner, she would check her foster parents’ bedroom door. There would be a note attached to said door with a colored thumbtack. On a side note, should there be a red tack holding up the note, the implication would be different. Green, was the signal for go. A green tack meant that she would be allowed to eat dinner. Yellow meant caution. A yellow tack implied that she was allowed to eat, but if she wished to not be punished over nothing, she was to take her food and eat in privacy. As all who knew the basic rules of driving knew, red, meant to stop. Should a red tack be found in place of a green or a yellow, then she would not be permitted to eat any of the food she made for supper.

Hence, she naturally feared every trip down the hall to her foster parents’ bedroom. Relief would flood her system nearly every time she found the note being held in place by a green thumbtack. The meal she would prepare was entirely dependant on what she found written on the note. Naturally the food would be made in accordance to the recipe known to the family. Her foster parents’ would arrive long before the food could go cold. Typically one of them would set food through the door before the meal had even finished cooking. Her foster mother - Michelle - worked at a local fast food chain. One of the many places that sold cheap Hamburgers and soggy French-Fry’s round the clock. Her foster father - Conner - acted as a security guard of sorts.

She had yet to uncover the real name of the job, but he would stand outside a bar and monitor who did and did not go inside. In the event of a fight, it would be his job to go inside, break it up, and throw out those who had caused the disturbance. The man also seemed to suffer from a sever case of Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. She had little idea as to whether or not that might be true, though from her perspective, it would explain his innate ability to keep track of the food so well. Regardless, their meal would not begin until after both of Amber’s foster parents’ had arrived. Once they were there, the three of them would begin to eat. Her role as their private house slave would continue, naturally. After Conner performed his routine inspection of the meal in order to ensure that she had neither eaten any of it or used more than what was needed for the recipe. Only when he had deemed that the food was properly made, would he allow them to begin their meal. She was expected to serve them their food first, and then she would claim her share so that she could eat.

When supper was over and done with, she would be the one to clean all of the dishes, and put away any leftovers. More often than not, she would deposit all remaining leftovers into a pair of clear plastic containers. Her foster parents’ would take said containers home with them, and use them as their lunch while they were at work. When she finished taking care of the leftovers and the dishes, then she would go straight to her room. Partially because as far as her foster parents’ were concerned, as soon as dinner was over, it was bedtime for her. All that really indicated though, was that she had to hide in her room until morning. Michelle and Conner enjoyed spending their time outside of work by watching some not-so-age appropriate movies and enjoying adult beverages. There were a handful of nights where she wished that she had a means of blocking out all the noise they were capable of making. The hellions were blatantly incapable of properly caring for their adopted child. Perish the thought of their antics bringing another kid into their poor excuse for a family.

Upon entering her bedroom, Amber would remain awake until eleven o’clock at night. That time would be primarily spent tending to her homework and her various studies, while about half an hours worth of it would be directed at personal hygiene. When eleven o’clock rolled around, that was when she would put all of her things away, and lie down so that she could sleep.
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All she could feel, was panic. The eerie, yet desperate call that met her ears only proved to add to that fact. Fear; anxiety; distress. No matter the word that could be used to describe her emotional turmoil, it all meant the same. She was caught in an overwhelming state of panic. For reasons she could not explain, she was running. The trees and greenery of her surroundings were little more than blurs due to her speed. Initially, she had no understanding as to where she was going - it seemed as though she was not the one in control of her actions.When a second, louder version of that same desperate cry met her ears, that was when it became clear. Although she was doing so against her own will, it was painfully obvious that she was seeking out the source of that pained call.

Flashes of white began to meet her lane of vision as she darted through the landscape. Even through her state of confusion, she was able to recognize the cause of the pristine shade that met her sight. The chill that gradually became more noticeable in the air only proved to reinforce her knowledge. Before long, the surrounding greenery completely vanished, only to be replaced by thick sheets of snow and ice. Her limbs ached from the strain of her running, and her chest stung as result of the dramatic change in the air temperature. She wanted to stop - but her body was ever reluctant to pay her mind the time of day. The ice stung her hands and feet, making her feel as though they might have started to bleed at one point. She could feel her eyes watering as a result of the cold air that was meeting them, and her nose had long since started to drip a rather unpleasant fluid. In blunt terms, she felt terrible on a physical and emotional level. The impending fear of dread did little to convince her that she was not charging towards a less than agreeable fate.

The layers of frost abruptly became thick, towering walls of frozen stone. Her body paused on its own accord, and she spent a few seconds looking around. Yet another desperate call for help met her ears, and she darted towards it. An unusual heat took this as its cue to appear. She had no understanding as to where the sudden warmth came from, though she gladly welcomed it. She was the type to prefer hot weather over cold weather in the long run. The yellow glow of an unseen light began to cast its shine across the frozen city-scape that she trailed through. The blurred images of people began to meet her lane of vision as she darted through the streets. As she grew closer to them, another set of noises began to meet her ears. They were the shouts of dozens of angry men, and the clatter of the various metal items that they had collected in order to weaponize.

The miniature army of men charged at her, seeming to be furious at her very presence among them. She wanted to turn and run - to get as far away from the violent group of masculine figures. For all she was worth, she commanded her body to obey her mental desires. The exact opposite is what went on to happen. She charged towards the mob, winding her way through them in every which direction in order to avoid the bitter sting of their attacks. As she did this, she was given the chance to take the cause of the unknown light into consideration. Fire. There were nearly a dozen orbs of fire spread throughout the town, attached to buildings in order to melt the thick sheets of ice. She had no idea as to where the abnormal bundles of flame had emerged from. There had been no fire present when she passed between the various buildings and alleyways.

The fires had literally emerged without cause. In the long run, it was foolish of her to let her attention linger on spontaneous flames for even a moment. That handful of seconds where her focus was on the fire, rather than the hoard of rampaging men that seemed intent on harming her. That mistake earned her an agonizing wound at the hands of what seemed to be a pitch-fork. The voice that escaped her upon being struck was in no way recognizable as her own, though her mind was incapable of calling that to attention. For once, her body seemed to obey her mental will as she began to try and tear away from the weapon that had been thrust into her back. The blood which poured from her wound felt as though it burned her skin, but it cooled to the point of chilling her body within seconds of being exposed to the freezing air. By means of a miracle, she managed to pry her frame free from the piercing grip of the pitch-fork. Though, in the end, doing so would do nothing to remove the pain that coursed through her body. Another desperate cry met her ears, reawakening the free will of her body in the process.

Against her desire to leave it be, her body turned towards the source of the sound. Her eyes would have widened from surprise had they not began to steadily fall closed as result of the sense of weakness flowing through her body. Her limbs began to tremble, eventually losing the ability to support her weight. Though she could not comprehend the reason for doing so, she began to crawl towards the now known cause of the distressful calls for help. A fox. A beautiful, silver haired fox, with a tail that looked as though it were made of pure snow. The wonder of the beast shown intently, even dispite the bloody patches of fur that lined its image. Her body eventually lost the ability to move, and even yet, her frame behaved as if desperate to reach the heavily wounded and chained creature. In the end, she could do little more but fall still and accept her fate. When this happen, an unusual sense of regret mingled in with the unwanted calmness that overtook her as result of her impending doom.

Her vision began to betray her as the assaulting darkness overtook her sight. Her last image in life - not that she would remember it - would be that of the silver fox. As she faded out of existence entirely, she was able to see as the wounded creature attempted to fight its way out of its chains as it reached for her. Such a pity it was, that she seemed to be just beyond its farthest reach. Her mind vanished into nothingness before she could do so much as offer the poor beast anything akin to comfort.
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The young woman woke with a start to feel an ever familiar ache in her back. As soon as she woke, she forced herself out of bed in order to mindlessly roam the confined space of her room. She did so not because she was in search of something, but because the act alone was enough to calm her. She kept her arms wound tightly around her shoulders, seeking to provide herself with something akin to a comforting touch. This behavior has become an instinctive habit, given how long she had gone without anything akin to affection. Three years ago - likely at the halfway mark of her thirteenth year - Amber had began to experience lucid dreams. Although she could not remember the real details of these dreams, she could understand the basis of what she had experienced. With every dream - she was certain that there were more than one - it was as if she was in a body that was not her own. Her limbs would not obey her will. She was unable to make use of her voice.

Upon waking, there would always a throbbing pain coursing through her body. More often than not, the ache would resonate from her back alone. There would be three points of intense pain, which would gradually spread throughout her entire back. On a select number of nights, she would wake and feel as though she had been mauled. Random places on her body would throb uncomfortably. The days following those rare nights were often the most difficult for her to push through. Her limbs would be left so weak that she would wind up almost incapable of walking. Of course, this made it clear that doing so much as trying to lift her backpack would put her through hell and back. Over the years, she had come the the conclusion that it would be easier for her to cope with these sleep-induced pains if she could simply remember what her dreams had been about. She felt that if she could know and understand the details, then perhaps she would be better to better deal with the side effects.

Doing so much as thinking about her dreams would only further her agony. At times, she had managed to dig up a lone memory from her nocturnal mindset. One key recollection revolved around the overwhelming desire to escape. Another involved her being in a fight, although she had yet to dig deep enough into her memory to determine what exactly it was that she had gotten into a brawl with. The only other recollection from her dreams that she had, revolved around a fox. Sometimes her mental image of it was blurred, but no matter how many times she woke from a nightmare, she knew that she had seen it in her land of slumber. A large, silver fox with a pristine white tail and eyes that she was incapable of describing. The beautiful animal had appeared in every one of her nightmares for the past three years. That silver fox, was the only thing that she could wholeheartedly remember upon waking up. Without any need to delve into the innermost parts of her mind to try and piece the dream together, she would always remember the fox.

In the end, she would manage to calm down after around twenty minutes. By then, her morning alarm would ring, and it would be time to begin her daily routine. Trash collection and disposal, laundry, sweeping and mopping, the dogs. All were taken care of in a timely manner, although she would be due to suffer somewhat more when the easily excited mutts attempted to tackle her in order to get their food quicker. She had grown considerably in the past three years. As a result, she had managed to acquire extra leverage when the dogs made a move to knock her over. They could no longer push her onto her backside when they lunged. In the end, they would resort to wrapping their forelimbs around her legs in order to trip her, which did not work thanks to how carefully she would move. The issue came as a result of the pain that would linger after her nightmares. Whenever the dogs tried to push her over or trip her, they would put extra stain on her back.

This in turn would reawaken the dull throb that would remain with her throughout the day. When all morning chores were tended to, she was free to go about the task of making her breakfast. Although her dream world had become little more than a hell that would cause her lasting pain upon waking, her time in the world of consciousness had gone through a few somewhat pleasant changes. One of them being was that she was capable of having extra food when it came to her morning meal. This was not because her foster father had decided to be more lenient with her, but because she had found a means of earning money. Money which she would use to purchase a number of easily hidden food items. Cereal bars, canned soups, fruit snacks - anything that could be hidden in her closet or under her bed. Thanks to this simple but massive change in her food limitations, her immense fear of her foster parents’ had lessened somewhat. She still hated them for all that she was worth and viewed them as terrible people, but her fear had become less than overbearing regardless. All, in all, her change in breakfast choices were small - but extremely satisfying.

In addition to her poached egg, single slice of toast, and a piece of bacon, Amber was able to enjoy a bowl of instant oatmeal and a package of fruit snacks. The meal was filling and would provide her with all of the energy that she would need to make it through her day. She ate quickly to reduce the changes of either of her foster parents’ venturing down the stairs to catch her with food that they did not recognize. Afterwards, she carefully rinsed all of her dishes to ensure that none could recognize the oatmeal residue that had been left behind on her spoon. Her trash was taken with her after she collected her belongings and left the house. She deposited the unneeded rubbish in the small trash-can that rested at the entrance of the school bus once she stepped onto it. The ride wound up being somewhat longer than usual thanks to a minor accident that had blocked the usual route to school. The extra ten minutes of being jerked around at the hands of every minute bump that the vehicle happened across did little to ease the pain that coursed throughout her back. Hence, when she was able to get off of the crowded and otherwise smelly transport, she did so gladly. From there, she would travel straight to her first period class so that she could relax until the bell rang.

Now a Sophomore in High-school, her classes had taken a more sophisticated turn as result of the stricter, higher level education that she was expected to deal with. Her first subject of the day was Chemistry, and admittedly, she was not doing well in the class. The second and third classes were Geometry and an art class. Lunch took place at noon, and would last forty-five minutes. Unlike Middle-School, there were no real alternations when it came to the food that was served for the afternoon meal. There was a pizza station, a hamburger station, and a burrito station. Along with that was a small buffet that served all of the sides. There would always be salad, fruit, and a variety of drinks available. The desserts where what changed daily, though they typically alternated between chocolate pudding, Jell-O, and strawberry cupcakes. In the long run, she genuinely enjoyed the cupcakes.

Amber would change her lunch daily in order to keep herself from getting sick. She would also make sure to take her time while she ate, given that there was no reason to rush. Unlike at home, she was able to sit and savor every bite without fear of being reprimanded for doing so. By and by, she finished her meal just over ten minutes before the bell signaling the start of fourth period could ring. Just as with any other school day, she would take the opportunity to venture to the restroom so that she could take care of business. That would be when something far from normal went on to take place. While she was washing her hands, the young woman chanced a glance in the mirror to make sure that her face was clean. Upon doing so, her body became rigid with surprise at the sight of her reflection. No longer was she the young woman that she was so accustomed to seeing. While her face had remained the same, virtually every other aspect of her body had been altered.

Her typically brunette hair had grown light, causing it to appear blonde from her perspective. Brown eyes had shifted to blue, and her skin seemed somewhat lighter than it had ever been. Unintentionally, she began to squeeze the edge of the bathroom sink as she stared at her reflection, an expression of horror creeping onto her face as the seconds ticked by. Her ears were no longer her own. There were a pair of pointed, animalistic ears set in place of her original hearing organs. The fuzz covered appendages seemed to twitch with every beat of her panicked heart. Tears welled in her eyes and trailed down her cheeks as her body began to shake. The pain that had remained in her back throughout the day, using a mocking sense of compassion, took this as the opportunity to leave her presence. In Amber's mind, all the world around her seemed to have come to an abrupt halt. She was unable to emotionally comprehend the disturbing changes that had overtaken her body.

The otherwise calming chime of the school-bell did nothing to draw her attention. She stood rigid in the restroom even as all of the other teenagers in the school went about the business of returning to their classes. The symptoms of a panic attack began to work their way into her system shortly after the late bell rang. Her heart rate started to increase at a rapid pace. The ability to breathe became restricted, creating the illusion of suffocation. A completely different form of pain steadily took hold of her, threatening to overwhelm her mind and body to reduce her to nothing. Before her panic could reach a critical level and create a dangerous situation which she was incapable of avoiding, something managed to catch her eye. The flicker of a massive flame met her lane of vision, proving to be enough to force her attention away from the traumatic image that she had been staring at. She turned towards the glow on impulse to stare down at the unusual creature that had taken the opportunity to reveal itself to her. Unusual as it seemed to believe so, Amber felt as though she knew the "animal" that approached her.

Thick, yellow fur caught and reflected the dull light that cast down from the bathroom ceiling, causing it to take on a golden glow. Deep, ghostly blue eyes peered up at her intently, as though the being that housed them sought to ask something of her. Dull, reddish-brown splotches decorated the body and along the muzzle, creating the mock appearance of gore. None of this caught much, if any of her interest as she peered down at the creature. All of her focus was on the fiery, vibrantly illuminated appendage that seemed to act as the beings tail. The sight of this beast brought new meaning to the phrase "Fox-fire", given that this animal was clearly meant to be a fox. A large fox with a tail composed of nothing but a smooth, well kept flame. She kept her eyes locked on the beautiful, but painstakingly unnatural creature as it calmly stepped towards her. A dull throb began to sneak its way into the back of her mind, bringing about a sense of weakness that she had grown semi-accustomed to over the past few years. The eerie, but gentle whisper of a voice met her ears, though she was incapable of comprehending it.

Her mind began to fog at a rapid pace as the being drew closer to her. She felt the coarse texture of the fox's fur against her skin as it rubbed against her legs, guiding her a few steps away from the sink in the process. Her knees began to wobble as her strength quickly vacated her system, resulting in her collapsing onto the concrete floor. Consciousness left her at that time, her last image before her mind fell blank being that of the fire tailed fox.

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