Page 20 of Broken Vow

I passed the middle, reaching three-quarters of the way across. The far rock face was close enough that I could see the individual roots clutching the stone at the lip of the gorge. For a single breath, I allowed myself to believe I would make it, that solid ground was only paces away.

In that instant, the rotted wood splintered with a sharp crack near the far bank. The trunk gave way entirely where it had borne too much weight for too long, and the world dropped beneath me. The far cliff lurched upward as the span folded. I scrambled for purchase, but the wood disintegrated, leaving nothing beneath my paws.

The ravine pulled me down into the dark toward the roar of the water. I hit the river, narrowly missing a massive boulder, and the freezing current claimed me instantly. It hauled me downstream faster than a horse’s gallop, spinning me through the dark rapids.

I fought toward the surface, the water slamming me against stone. Through the impact, I clamped my jaws tighter around the silver disc, refusing to yield it.

The current thrashed the dangling chain until it whipped loose, looping over my lower teeth and binding my jaw shut. When I broke the surface to gasp for air, my mouth would not open. I swallowed a mixture of air and freezing water before being pulled under once more. The chain had cinched tight across my jaw, the silver disc wedged hard against my teeth, locking my mouth closed in the churning dark.

The realization was clear, cold, and immediate. The pendant was drowning me.

If I opened my mouth, worked the chain loose, and let the river take the silver, the broken catch, and the last relic of my mother, I could breathe. I could reach the far bank alive, empty-handed, and go to Drystan without the one token that could prove my identity.

I refused.

Fate had stripped away my home, my voice, and my human form, but I would not yield the final piece of who I was. I chose to fight. Driving my teeth deeper into the chain and the silver disc, I held fast, anchoring my mother, my line, and my proof against the violent river.

The icy water closed over my head, sweeping me down into the dark, but my jaws remained locked around the silver as the current carried me away.

Chapter 9

The smell of mud, grass, and rotting fish crept into my nose, forcing my eyes open. The light struck too high and bright for the hour I remembered. When the rotted trunk had splintered, night had already swallowed the gorge, but now a high midday sun beat down on my damp fur. The river had taken a half-day of my life while I lay unconscious in the current. I woke at the river’s edge beside an old, broken fish trap containing the remains of a trapped river creature. The foul odour hit me like the harsh smelling salts used by wandering surgeons, causing me to scramble up from the massive fallen branch that had caught my drift.

My fur was damp, but the thick base near my skin remained dry. Lifting my head in wonder at the unfamiliar surroundings, clarity returned in a sudden, sharp wave. I had survived.

By all measures, I should have perished. The fall from the rotten tree was dozens of paces, and the river ran with terrifying speed. I had been reckless, risking total oblivion in the depths of the gorge without Drystan ever knowing the fate of the woman who had promised to return to him.

As I moved my head, the silver chain tangled around my jaw caught against my fur. The thick pelt of the silver fox had saved my life, trapping air to keep me afloat when I lost consciousness in the current.

The realization settled deep within me, and a bitter resentment surfaced. I resisted feeling gratitude toward this altered form, yet it was the very thing keeping me alive. The grief and anger that had consumed me since waking in the cottage now shared space with the quiet acknowledgment that my changed body was the sole reason I was still breathing.

I lay in the grass, allowing the sun to warm my fur as I drew in the air, grateful for a second chance at life. The ruined fish trap meant human presence, and humans meant danger. I pushed myself up, but a yawn was cut short by the chain binding my jaw. The metal had cut into the soft skin inside my mouth, flaring with heat whenever I shifted. The chain itself was warped where the current had wrenched it, the open clasp bent out of shape. The pendant remained attached, but the entire piece was damaged, requiring careful handling until I could find a way to repair it.

Working the chain loose proved slow and painful. My paws were awkward against the delicate links, but I eventually freed my jaw and set the silver disc on the grass. Resting my head on my paws, I stared at the bent chain and the silver disc before carefully gathering it back into my teeth, proud that I had not allowed the river to claim the last piece of my past.

* * *

I attempted to orient myself as the river rushed past. The midday sun offered no clear shadows to mark direction, and the gorge where I had fallen was nowhere in sight.

Climbing a small rise, I looked for the mountains framing the river and the toll bridge, but saw only open country. Meadows and low woodlands stretched in all directions with no villages or landmarks to guide me. The empire lay vast and unmarked around me, leaving me completely disoriented.

Standing still accomplished nothing, so I chose a direction based on the sun’s position and began to walk. My altered body was sore from the fall and exhausted from the current. The initial revulsion I had felt toward hunting back in the grove faded as hunger began to grow.

I trotted forward as the sun began its gradual descent, stretching long shadows across the grass. The wind shifted, signalling the turn of the afternoon, yet no roads appeared, only faint, meandering animal paths. Nothing was familiar. The meadows yielded to more fields, the woods opened into clearings, and a small stream crossed my path where I paused to drink. I saw no farmers, carts, or travellers. The river had carried me far beyond any land I knew, leaving me lost in an unfamiliar province.

Panic flickered at the edges of my mind. Every passing hour was time the magic settled deeper into my physical form, taking permanent root. A subtle warmth pulsed deep in my core, though I could not tell if it was the gnawing hunger or the magic completing its hold. Worse still, every minute brought more delay for Drystan, who waited at gates I had failed to reach.

* * *

Just as the sun dipped toward the horizon, a village appeared ahead.

It sat along a low ridge, a cluster of stone structures visible in the dimming light. Crouching low in the long grass, I observed it carefully.

The architecture differed entirely from my home region. Low, solid blocks of riverbed clay formed the houses, featuring small, sunken windows and high, triangular tile roofs. At the centre, a village temple rose as a tiered pagoda with three stacked roofs and upturned eaves typical of southern traditions. This was a regional culture I had only heard described, confirming that the river had swept me into an unfamiliar territory.

I could not predict how the villagers would react to a silver fox. I did not know whether they hunted such creatures for their pelts or left offerings according to old regional customs.

Though I had resolved to avoid human settlements, necessity forced my hand. Without a landmark, signpost, or overheard direction, I would wander the open country endlessly until capture or starvation overtook me. The village offered my only chance for information, despite the risk.