The Fox and the Crow

“Drive them by the sword of the Zealot. Drive them by the torch of the Lighbringer. Drive that which cannot fly to flee.” – Book of Wrath, chapter nine, verse fifty-five

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The Fox and the Crow

Did you know Enclave — home to the whole goddamn of humanity — has a small population of heretics counted in its census each year? According to Church records, out of the one million humans counted, there are ninety-six heretics within the walls right now.

Can you believe it? The enemy of our kind is so close and yet so obscured from the public that they might as well not exist to the average civilian. And yet there they are, as true as tithing, their existence declared in red ink. Ninety-six souls.

The history of Foxing is indeed storied, but one fact rings true throughout it all: light cannot exist without the dark. By that same hand, Foxers cannot exist without these ninety-six heretics, for it was the crows who served as the blueprint for our Foxing programs. And the crows still serve the Church today. Often against their will, captured crows are used to help huamnity fine-tune and evaluate each new generation of Church foxes for skills matching that of the crow.

How? How can such a noble profession — Foxing — have its roots in the talons of our great foe? It would seem a plot by the heretics themselves on first glance.

Unlike their raven counterparts, the crow does not possess raw, berserker-like strength. The crow’s bones are hollow, and they seldom reach their maximum height of five-and-a-half feet.

They are quite nimble and stealthy, but their most coveted trait is their refined extrasensory abilities — perhaps the same abilities talented foxes have. Conscripting prisoners to help identify talented foxes began humanity’s first Foxing program, and the rest is best left to fox hairs in the wind.

I am no wall sitter; no heretic. I know whose bayonet is at the small of my back and whose coins fill my purse. I know that the Corvid represent the great evil of our time; an affront to all things good and holy.

And yet… when you speak to some of the captured heretics — at least to the Corvidae who have some grasp of English — they often speak of dreams; dreams of verdant forests and fauna; of flight with their ‘ancestors.’ They speak of their families and children, like  weary soldiers returning from the front. They speak of their homes behind the safety of their walled cities, their words heavy with a longing for a life spent in pursuit of joy, only to be punctuated by the monstrous tragedy of our centuries-old conflict. They speak of love. They speak of sorrow.

They dream, raven and crow, dreams as rich as our own. They have nightmares, too. Just like us.

I’d even go as far to say that they are more human than some humans I know.

– C.

Oliver Hart

Author of Foxing, Leaves of Fall, Liquid Courage, Beating the Heat, A Red Winter, Weber’s Gambit, and many other stories. He primarily writes hmofa, but dabbles in most genres. Interests include, writing, reading, technology, and music.

Stories: Foxing, The Leaves of Fall