The young thieves decided that three escaped captives were quite enough, so they tied up the two remaining ones with the rope they set out for the five they planned to have. Being excessively cautious was worth it if it meant they would have something to show the others.

The captive with the hat said calmly, "Forty-seven."

One of the thieves, who was quite scratched up from being thrown into a bramble bush, shot him a heated glare. "What?"

"Knots. Forty-seven of them. That's quite enough, isn't it?"

"D'you want another? Right in the maw, hmm?"

"I'll be cooperative if you'd only give me your name."

The thief started to tie loops around the bindings to make it easier to carry. "Chief calls me Chase. It's a strong name, stronger than you deserve to say."

The thieves covered the eyes of their captives and carried them up a cliff to where their companions lived. After asking around, they discovered that their leader was absent, so they sent for the two eldest and roughest amongst them instead. They were scruffy young men, not long after their adolescence, but still several heads taller than most of the other boys. One of them was a stouter fellow wearing scraps of many different garments, using many of them as sashes to carry even more knives and daggers. The other was long and reedy, dressed in an ordinary farmer's outfit, carrying a large sack on his shoulder.

"Good job, kits," said the scrappier one, reaching over them and patting their pelts. Some of them laughed, batting his hand away. He examined the captives, especially their bonds, and then acknowledged Chase with a curt nod. "Your work?"

"Right that is, Esten."

"You're comin' along. What's the loot like?"

Most of the little thief band crowded behind Chase and waited for him to say something. He pushed forward a sack of the captives' belongings and money bags. "Weren't carrying much. But the one in the hat had some shinies."

The taller young man put on a pair of jeweler's glasses and began to look through the sack. His companion hovered over his shoulder, picking up a few objects to look at them himself, then dropping them back in. Chase sat down to watch this appraisal.

"This should be worth something, right Jareth?" the short Alpha nudged a gem-like piece of glass towards the other.

"Dog's tongue and a bucket of piss," Chase mumbled under his breath.

"Not how much you'd pay for it! I mean someone with actual money!"

"No, that's about right," said Jareth. "This is a surgeon's looking glass, meant to slip on the nose and not have to be adjusted after that. They have to be custom-made and fit only a single person, so other people won't be willing to buy it. There's some gold we could file off though."

"What, and have someone sneeze and have it all fly away? Don't even bother! Just pitch it," Esten took the looking glass from Jareth's hand and tossed it back into the sack. Chase put his head down and pulled his pelt over his eyes. Jareth continued to go through the sack and pulled out a cloth band. He stood, blinking at it. Esten stood as well, his expression wary.

"This is a celestial's Seeing Blind," Jareth said slowly. "Why is this here?"

"'Cause one of the captures is one," Chase said. The two young men nearly leaped in surprise.

"What, you crazy? Are you seriously out of your god-damn mind?" Esten spat.

"A celestial could curse every one of us!"

"He didn't look too high and mighty," Chase rubbed the nose of his pelt and gestured over to the captive angel. Even after the bandana around his eyes was removed, he was quiet, kept his eyes shut, and did not move. "And, and I thought that maybe we could hold him for ransom with the rest of his party. There're a couple of others that are still out there..."

The two young men stared at the angel, waiting for him to say something. "How come he hasn't cursed us yet?" Jareth asked in a low voice.

"Would you like me to?" the angel lifted his head. The gathered thieves recoiled. "...I'd prefer to save my one curse for something quite exceptional, and you simply are not worth using it on. I'm rather confident in my escort being able to take care of this."

"Sounds like you want to be a hostage. That's fine with us," Jareth growled. "Come on, let's put 'em on display."

----

"See that?" Sonja pointed towards some cliffs in the distance. "It looks pretty deserted, but if you're watching for it, there's smoke. They know how to hide themselves, but they can't help but leave some signs to people really paying attention."

Claire shielded her eyes from the setting sun. "...It's getting thicker...do they want us to find them?"

The smoke was indeed intensifying and turning from a near-invisible trail to distinct puffs. Ceallach took a deep breath and let it out. "That's starting to look like an invitation."

The sun had just about gone down the horizon by the time the three of them reached the hill overlooking the bandit's camp. It was an area of forest cleared of trees and surrounded on three sides by cliffs. There were no signs of people or tracks anywhere, but a few fire pits were still warm or smoldering. The camp seemed recently deserted. On opposite cliffs were Rowan and Ark, bound to logs and in plain sight. It clearly looked like some kind of trap.

Sonja counted under her breath and growled faintly in frustration. "Look at the fires...there must be more of them than we thought. We can't possibly fight them all off."

Claire fidgeted. "Maybe we should just ask them what they want? They haven't hurt Rowan or Ark, so they might be reasonable..."

"I'll talk to them. You two stay back and hide if things don't go well," Ceallach said. Neither of the others seemed very pleased with this idea. "They'll recognize you as the ones that got away, so they might not be willing to listen to you. I might have a chance."

"Fine, but we're not going to hide," Sonja said after a moment. "We'll come to help you if you need us."

Ceallach felt relieved hearing that, which surprised him a little. He got up and walked down the hill into the bandit's camp. As he stepped into the clearing, he could feel the weight of many eyes on him and heard a bird whistle crawl up the cliffs and away from him. From hiding places on clifftops and shrubs stirred many thieves, most of them aiming weapons at him. There was silence save for a tiny wind and the faint stretching of bows.

One of the bandits, dressed in a multitude of mismatched rags, stepped forward. "Hullo and welcome, firehead. Is there...something we can help you with?"

Ceallach swallowed and gathered his words before speaking. "I'm here to discuss the release of the two captives you captured today."

The ragged bandit arched his eyebrows in amusement and held his hands up in a theatrical shrug. Howls of laughter bubbled up from the other bandits.

"Listen to him!"

"'Discuss the release!' Haw!"

"Now look here!" the ragged bandit shouted over the din and over his own laughter. The noise died down. "Here, there's no discussing. Not with words, at least. We like...tangible objects."

"What do you mean by that?" Ceallach called out in a voice loud enough the entire camp could hear him.

"Do I really have to explain it to you? We're simple foxes here. Coin. Shinies. You gots?" The thief made a rubbing motion with his fingers.

Ceallach didn't have an answer to that. The idea that people would hold others hostage for the sake of money made him deeply angry, and that made it impossible to speak up. He looked at where Rowan and Ark were tied up instead, but they were too high up for him to see them very clearly.

A bandit from one of the cliffs shouted, "He doesn't have any shinies!"

Some of the thieves started to laugh again. "Maybe," another bandit howled from the other cliff, "maybe he oughta make some shinies!" He waited for the others to look at him before making a slicing motion at his neck, pretending to pour the result of the cut into his cupped hands. At that, the camp's laughter became a roar.

The ragged bandit took a few loping steps up to Ceallach, tilting his head at him. "Y'know...you got a pretty head for a boy. I know a guy who'd pay outta the nose for some of that hair...maybe we can...have an arrangement." He pulled out a dagger and ran his thumb over the edge of it.

Ceallach grabbed a handful of hair from where it was wrapped around his shoulder and whipped it out, slashing the tail-knife through the air. The bandit jumped away just in time and nearly lost his balance. Surprised shouts came from all over the camp. Ceallach felt emboldened by this reaction and began to swing the knife in protective arcs in front of him. The bandit was clearly confused by this weapon.

An arrow shot by Ceallach's shoulder and missed by a nail's width. The ragged bandit whirled around and shouted, "Hold your fire! I can handle this guy!"

Ceallach glanced up the hill and saw Claire and Sonja about to come down, but he shook his head at them. The two girls hesitated, then retreated when the thieves looked their way.

The ragged bandit threw his dagger, which bounced off the tail-knife with a shrieking ping. Then he pulled out a handful of throwing knives and threw them in quick succession. For a quick, cold moment Ceallach thought that one of them was going to land a mortal blow and he flinched. But when he opened his eyes again, he was safe. Some of the knives had been deflected and lay about him, while the others were caught up in his hair.

No one spoke for a moment. Finally, the ragged bandit said, "Buh!?"

Ceallach had an idea and snapped his hair towards his opponent. The buried knives flew out all at once. The ragged bandit broke away with a cry and landed on his back, though he had managed to dodge all of the incoming knives. A steady, concerned murmur came from the other thieves.

"What the!" the ragged bandit scrambled up to a sitting position. "How can you even do that! With your hair!"

"Because he's god-chosen!" called a voice from above, the sound echoing around the cliffs like a roar.

Instantly the entire camp was quiet and all eyes turned towards the top of the center cliff, where a hunched person approached the edge. After a short moment, the person jumped down from there towards the clearing below. Ceallach nearly dashed forward to do something about the fall, but the ground rippled like water under the person's feet and softened the landing.

The newcomer had a thick white beard, and what little of his face not covered in beard was dominated by scars. He had a bit of a stoop, even though it was clear he was standing as tall as he could. Regardless of his age and his stature, he carried himself with a tangible air of strength and authority. His broad chest was exposed and he wore the skin of a fox on his back, with the front paws tied at his shoulders and the head covering his own. It almost seemed the fox's snarling mouth was a part of him until he pushed the creature's head back and stared levelly at the intruder.

"Chief," said the young ragged bandit quietly, shuffling out of the way.

The leader of the thieves stepped forward, turning back to the cliffs and the thieves gathered there. "This one is stronger than all of you," he called out. "Perhaps even combined."

Murmurs began to bubble up from the cliffs. Ceallach readied his knife for another swing, unsure if he should try to come off as more threatening or not.

The leader turned and flicked his head over at Ceallach. "You there. Don't be a stranger, now. What's your name?"

Ceallach noticed the other carried no weapons, so he relaxed a bit. "I'm Ceallach. These people have some friends of mine as captives. Let them go."

"Mmm...why so? I am not quite so inclined to let go of a catch. Perhaps you would like to make it worth my while," the old man's hand disappeared into his beard as he stroked his chin. "You see, I am Ranulf, the Renard of the Eastern Range. I have a reputation, understand? If I simply gave up what was caught in my territory, it would reflect poorly on me and my young shedlings. So, if you'd like to meet with them again, you'd have to challenge me to a duel." He reached towards his side, and as he drew his hand back in front of him, a handle of wood appeared in his grasp. He twirled the handle in his hand a bit before snapping into a battle stance, making a large curved blade grow out of the handle. "Show me your resolve!"

Ceallach took a step back and dug his fingers into the hair he was holding. He was too shocked to be frightened or think clearly, but everything in his body wanted nothing to do with that machete-like weapon the other held. He had already done a few impressive tricks with the tail-knife and had the advantage of reach, but he knew he did not know it well enough to take full advantage of its capabilities. And...he had no idea what to expect out of Ranulf. Compared with the tail-knife, the other blade seemed gigantic. Ranulf certainly looked confident enough with it...and what if he threw it? Then the knife's range would make little difference.

Ceallach shifted his grip. Strength...am I strong enough?

I don't have a choice. I have to be strong!

Ranulf chuckled and lunged, swiping in long, quick arcs. Ceallach jumped back every time, trying to find some space to work up a good swing. On one leap he nearly lost his footing. "Aha!" Ranulf shouted, slicing down on a length of Ceallach's hair. Ceallach anticipated this attack and pulled this length taut. The hair held.

Ranulf's expression became genuinely confused. Ceallach took this opportunity to attempt a kick, but Ranulf jumped out of the way. The old man grinned and swung his blade in the air a few times. "Interesting. But does your skin work the same way, I wonder?" He charged again, closing the space between them. Ceallach was forced to grip the the tail-knife in his hand to parry and deflect the other's attacks. Ranulf's attacks were constant, barely allowing Ceallach any time to do anything other than react. Ceallach's body ached with tension powerful enough to make his head hurt, and his arm was beginning to go numb with the shocks going down it. Finally he was able to shove the other away - or perhaps Ranulf decided to back off, Ceallach couldn't tell. He panted with exertion, while Ranulf hardly seemed winded.

Ranulf twirled his blade around and caught it in his other hand. "Tell me, Ceallach. How long have you had that weapon?"

Ceallach gritted his teeth for a moment. "...A few hours."

Ranulf laughed, but not in a malicious way. "You did well for being newly-blessed, young one. Why don't we make a deal? Your friends go free, but when you are stronger, you will find me again and we'll continue where we left off. Sound fine?"

Ceallach straightened and didn't answer for a moment out of surprise. "...You'll do that?"

"There is no challenge in beating you now, but I would like to see how you grow in time. Perhaps I could teach you a thing or two...or you could teach me. Your potential is a point of curiosity for me...a fascinating shiny," Ranulf's eyes glinted with a fierce joy. "Indulge an old fox, if you will?"

Ceallach paused to consider this. "Alright. I'll become stronger, for next time."

Ranulf let go of his weapon. Instead of falling to the ground, it vanished into the air. With his hand free, he stepped forward to shake Ceallach's hand. The other thieves cheered at this event.

"Chief's found another god-chosen!"

"We'll see him go all out!"

"...Hey! Someone's makin' off with the captives!"

Ceallach looked up towards the cliffs, where the bandits were pointing. Sonja and Claire were already untying Rowan and Ark. The short battle had apparently distracted the entire camp long enough for them to scale the cliffs. The two girls put their hands up, but no one moved to stop them.

"That's fine! Clever ladies nearly out-foxed the fox himself! That, friend, I hope will not go around. Reputation, you know." Ranulf turned towards Ceallach, chuckling. Ceallach nodded in response. Ranulf turned back towards the other thieves. "Now, little'uns, you all stay clear of this group, alright? Ceallach here is a friend. Let him and his friends pass and give them their things back. They've got somewhere to go."

The bandits helped them down the cliffs and drove them away politely.

"I was hoping you would be getting us out of there," Ark said after they had reached a respectable distance from the bandits' camp, "but to think you would be doing it with a divine weapon! That is quite glorious."

Ceallach was still stiff with tension from the short spar, and it took him a moment to answer. His breath seemed hard to catch still, even though they were safe. "You mean this?" He held up the tail-knife. "I...just got it...I met a wyrm god, I think. He said something about more. If I'm not mistaken."

"A wyrm? Here? That seems unlikely," Rowan said, though he seemed to appreciate the make of the tail-knife. "Draconic gods are usually more towards the South. This would be pretty far for them."

"Well, when we were running, I fell, and there was a tunnel and a statue of a wyrm, and I spoke with him. He said he would give me the strength of a god...or a wyrm. I'm not too sure what happened," Ceallach admitted. "I might have dreamed some of it."

"God-artifacts are mysterious and powerful," Rowan said. "I would not be surprised if you had a vision when you received it. You are quite fortunate - divine weapons are very rare of late, and it seems to be a very effective one."

"The things you did with your hair was amazing!" Sonja said, swinging her fist around in imitation of Ceallach's fighting style. "And it resisted being cut, even by another divine weapon? Are you sure your hair's not the blessed thing around here?"

"It's always resisted being cut," Ceallach said idly, turning the knife in his hands a few times. It was such a small thing, but apparently a thing of great wonder? He had done some tricks with it, but compared to what he saw Ranulf use, it seemed a little...childish. Almost as if to punish him for that thought, it faded away until it disappeared. He tensed and made a short frustrated noise, while Sonja made a similar squawk.

"Don't worry," Ark patted his arm. "Divine weapons materialize depending on need. It's safer that way, and takes less energy. You have not lost it."

Ceallach clenched and unclenched his hands, feeling slightly lacking without his one blessing in his possession. But after a moment he relaxed with a sigh, especially after Sonja patted him on the back.

Rowan turned to face the trail, stretching at length. "Well! Now that we have no more distractions, we can finally get back to our walking! We had a little adventure to have a new appreciation for the dullness of the everyday. Don't you think?" He crossed his arms and sighed.

"I'll say," Claire said over her folded hands. "I was so scared the whole time! My body is still shaking a little."

"Should we really keep traveling tonight? How do you feel, Claire? Ceallach?" Sonja asked.

"Ah, I'm fine now. Especially that everyone else is fine," Claire dusted her dress meekly.

"I'm alright...I can walk. Not much else though," Ceallach said.

Rowan nodded and dusted his hands. "Well, the night looks to be clear. I think we can afford to walk a little further. We should be out of the mountains by tomorrow night."

The group began their journey again, following the trail and leaving behind the howls of the fox-thieves.