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The Fox Woman of Ionia

Prologue

In The Snow

After a couple of days at sea, there was finally a landmass on the horizon.

"We're nearing the Ionian harbour," a burly middle-aged man stated. He was the captain and his ship - a Barquentine that had seen better days - was currently making its way through icy waters.

His passenger nodded at him but spoke no words, merely peering at her destination: Ionia, a spiritual nation that valued harmony and peace above everything else.

So why was she going there again? Hell if she knew. For closure? Possibly. She was wandering, after all; she went where the wind guided her. She had no attachments to any one place – not anymore.

Besides, anywhere was better than Noxus.

Perhaps coming to Ionia hadn't been the wisest of decisions, at least not now: winter had long since arrived, carrying snow and harsh winds that cut to the bone and made it near impossible to remain outside.

Near the woods, far from any Ionian settlements, a lone humanoid figure – a wanderer or a warrior, one might say – was marching on, with only a thick, brown hooded cloak to provide warmth and equipped with (what used to be) a greatsword strapped onto her back.

The frigid weather wasn't merciful and, while it didn't compare to the mighty winds of the Freljord – a onetime experience in her long, aimless journey – it would certainly wear you down if you were not properly dressed.

Tattered remains of armour and cloth did not function well as winter attire.

She certainly wasn't used to climates such as this. No, Noxus was entirely different, in fact, it was the complete opposite: you constantly fought or trained, and a cool breeze was a rare thing to occur in that harsh environment where compassion is weakness.

The strong eat the weak. Survival of the fittest. The perfect synopsis for her former homeland, where morals and benevolence was scoffed at – you fight, and you live.

Show mercy and you'll die.

In Noxus, only the hot winds of war blew.

However, the gale winds had ceased for the time being, making this ample opportunity to hunt for food.

Not having any money only gave the wanderer this much choice.

"There should be enough time," she said to herself, her voice soft but firm. "I'm getting hungry…"

As if on cue, there was a low grumbling sound from her stomach and she swore, increasing her pace through thick snow as she entered the woods: a serene gathering of trees covered with the winter's blanket.

There had to be game somewhere. Brown orbs were trained on the ground, watching vigilantly for something the snow would help her find – tracks.

She made her way deeper into the woods despite the chilling numbness that had begun to take hold of her feet due to lack of proper footwear. Nothing she couldn't handle though – she was a warrior at heart, after all.

Still, combined with a growing hunger, it was definitely not a good idea to idle too long out here.

How long had it been now? She had lost sense of time. All she knew was that no game had been found as of yet, and the winds were beginning to kick up.

This was starting to become vexing.

As she turned in a different direction, there was something that broke the silence: a high-pitched yowl.

Whipping her head in the direction of the sound, toned hand grabbing the hilt of the giant broken blade, she dashed forward. The yowling continued, growing louder as the warrior got closer. Once she knew it was just a stone-throw away she halted, crouching for a subtle approach through the vegetation. A loud screech came, and almost had the sword-wielder covering her ears.

´What's this now?´ she thought, moving closer to the source of the sound. Upon reaching the small hillside clearing, the warrior stopped mid-step, amazed by the sight before her: in a crude bear-trap with jagged iron teeth, a small, slender creature with pure, snow white fur thrashed about – a fox.

With its tail stuck in the trap, the fox could only yelp painfully as it desperately attempted to free itself to no avail.

Lost in the sight of such an awe-inspiring creature – that sleek white coat alone was captivating to behold and the whirling snow glimmered on its fur, making it more akin to a radiant beam of moonlight – she watched it, admiring it even as she did. Even its throes looked like a majestic dance.

Her stomach grumbled, louder this time due to prolonged lack of substance, which not only snapped the warrior back to her senses, but alarmed the fox of her presence, prompting it to growl menacingly.

The vulpine bristled as soon as the Exile took a step closer, but made no attempt to attack – its trapped tail prevented it from doing anything.

Pitiful.

She smiled apologetically at the animal. "Cruel, isn't it?" she said. "You can't even run away, much less defend yourself. So here you are, trapped, and I'm hungry."

Truly pitiful. It was a shame to end the life of such an alluring animal – which she didn't have a reason to kill otherwise – but hunger had her seeing only one thing: meat.

Was it worth it, though? What joy was there in killing something that was defenceless? Much like—

Brown eyes widened.

Memories of her past came back to her: screams, blood, and the smell of copper and smoke.

The broken greatsword was unsheathed from the strap on her back, held in her hand as if it weighed nothing, and she swung downwards.

The fox whimpered softly, quivering as it awaited the end… that didn't come.

It opened its eyes, looking to the human and her weapon, concern and confusion visible in its gaze.

The broken blade was just an inch or two away from striking its body and the warrior sighed. "…No. You're far too beautiful to be killed. How could I slay such a magnificent creature when it can't even defend itself?"

She stared at the fox, a pitiful look in her eyes and it stared back, dark brown meeting ochre, and for a moment the warrior was almost certain that the vulpine understood her. There was something in its eyes that she couldn't put her finger on…

She almost reached out to pat it, but her instincts suggested otherwise.

"Aren't you a lucky one…?" Her expression softened. "I suppose I'll have to find food elsewhere."

With a mighty swing she broke the trap and, with its grasp gone, the fox sprinted a good distance up the hill before halting and looking back at the warrior.

The warrior allowed a vague smile. "Go on. Live another day," she called out. "And don't get caught in another trap!"

Ochre eyes lingered on the human for a moment longer and, after some hesitation, the fox was quickly out of sight.

She sheathed the blade behind her back and brushed an ashen-blonde lock of hair behind her ear. Her stomach growled with hunger and she swore under her breath. "Shit…"

Riven continued into the forest, determined to find food before the winds really picked up. The sword-wielder was on the verge of giving up when she happened upon tracks – multiple ones – from some kind of hoofed animal. Whatever it was, it would be her meal and from the looks of it, the creature had passed through recently.

"Looks like I have some luck, too."

The warrior dashed forward, a hand on the hilt of her blade, following the tracks to the west; unaware of the ochre orbs watching her from afar.

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