- Chapter 1 -

“Burton Winston Garrett Foxford, where the hell do you think you‘re going?” My father hissed as he followed me down the front steps onto the flagstone of our driveway.

“I’m going out!” I answered, holding the auto’s keys between my index and middle finger with my tail flicking contently as I trotted to the old teal volkswagen that was parked next to one of many utility sheds on my parent’s open farm property.

“With my auto? No you’re not!” He scoffed, staggering his old self up to me. “You know very well, young man, that you can’t drive those in towns,” My father reminded me sternly.

“Oh come on! I have to pick up Marquis, I said I would! I’m not ponying his lunatic of a horse all the way to Aldonadorf. I said I’d pick him up in the Volkswagen. Please?” I questioned, tilting my head as my paws shifted against the uneven flagstone to look down at my dad.

“No sir. What are you even wearing? What, are you trying to show off your chest hair? You look like a woman trying to show off her buzzums” My father scoffed, pointing to my baggy button down I was wearing. I pinned my ears back and my face went hot, my hands quickly going to grip the buttons of my shirt to conceal my bare chest from my dad.

“Uh- no,” I said, drawing up my shoulder with a dismissive chuckle.

“And what’s with the sunglasses? It’s dark out!” My father questioned, switching his starkly pointed finger from my chest to my face.

“They look cool!”

“You look like you’re a blind man.”

“Nuh-uh!” I scoffed, turning my shoulders away from him.

“All this get-up just to drive to Aldonadorf and pick up Marquis?” He questioned. I was quiet for a moment.

“...yes…?” I answered timidly, flashing him a grin. His brows lowered and he gave me a glare. “Please?” He raised an eyebrow at me. “Pretty please?” I attempted again, tilting my head further to the side.

“Burton, your lanky self doesn’t even fit in that auto. You get folded in there like a pretzel. Marquis will be even worse, he’s a big guy. You’re gonna look more ridiculous than you already do,” My father warned, crossing his arms.

“The drive isn’t too long, he’ll survive,” I brushed it off. My father groaned, pushing back the small amount of thin grey hair on the top of his head.

“Fine. However, only bring home Marquis. No one else,” My father huffed. I held back my own groaning.

“I can do that.”

“Also, take off those stupid sunglasses, you’re gonna crash. It's far too dark for those!” I promptly snatched the Persol glasses from my face, keeping a pleading smile. My father continued to give me “the look” before finally rolling his eyes. “Get out of here,” he scoffed, tossing his hand up to shoo me away.

“Thanks dad!” I bounced turning back to the auto and hunching over to swing the door open.

“Hey, kid,” He halted me. I looked. “Drive save,”

“Can do,” I said reaching a hand in the auto to start it, the auto started with a low growl.

“Good, love ya,” My dad said, taking his cigarettes from his pocket.

“Yeah, yeah, love you too,” I sighed, looking away and rolling my eyes. My dad gave me a small wave of his hand before making his back to the house to light the cigarette between his teeth. Once he was distracted I smirked and piled into the claustrophobic auto, bending my legs in uncomfortable ways to fit in. Autos weren’t exactly built to support Hirschelfen’s legs. Without anymore waiting I swerved the auto around and made my way down the old and crumbling flagstone, my dad watching from the front door. The light of his dimly lit cigarette shimmered on the lenses of his glasses, letting me watch his head turn with my direction.

I curled my fingers around the steering wheel and made my way to the front gate, passing paddocks of cattle, pigs, and free roaming chickens around the glinting and orangey metal light posts. I drove out, passing the tall hedge fence that surrounded the front of the property, driving passed the “Foxford farm” sign with its top covered in a coating of autumn leaves. The volkswagen jolted and bounced as it jostled onto the dusty gravel road. I flicked on the auto’s stereo, adjusting the station as I cruised down the bumpy road.

It was a good twenty-minute drive to Aldonadorf . I’d slowed down to weave through carriages, horses, and civilians wandering through the busy streets. The bright town lights shimmered and gleamed on my auto’s windshield as my eyes combed through buildings to find the Theater Hügellandschaft where my mate’s band, “Gasseschweiß” was having a gig. The name wasn’t my mate’s idea.

I turned a corner, still venturing through the busy streets till I came across a tall theatre. With massive lights reading out the theatre’s name in large font with plenty of carriages and horses parked at the entrance. I slowed my auto in my search for a parking spot- I found a tight spot between two large drafts hitched up to equine parking. With careful maneuvering I squeezed in the old teal auto against the sidewalk. I took a quick glance of the venue, being impressed by its unexpected extravagance- compared to what I anticipated my mate would be playing another gig. It was usually the usual small café or restaurant, but here they had their band named plastered on the marquee below another in bold print. I shook my head at the stupid band title as I climbed out of the volkswagen.

A rushing chill coarsed over me, sneaking its way into my lazily-buttoned shirt and awakening a shiver from me. I hugged myself and hurried through loiterers and meanderers into the darkened theatre. Another band was on, playing an upbeat tune through the venue. I went to the bar in search of my friend. When I couldn’t spot him I went and approached one of his band members whilst he was flirting up a girl.

“Hello Max, hate to interrupt you but where’s Mark?” I asked sliding over to his side. I caught him off guard, but once his bloodshot eyes focussed in on me he eased.

“Oh, Mark? Mark’s staying backstage!” He replied loudly. The drunken man took a brief moment to introduce me to the girl he was talking to as I glanced around the venue.

“How am I supposed to get back there?” I asked.

“Just pronounce his name right,” Max joked. “It works!” I nodded with a little snicker before heading back...

“Hey! There you are Marquis!” I exclaimed, wandering into the cluttered backstage area. My paws felt weird against the black rubber floor. His ear perked up and he looked over to me and smiled, he sat hunched over on a wooden stool with guitar in-tow with an amp plugged in next to him with a plate holding a half-eaten tart placed on it.

“Burty! Mate, good evening!” He beamed to me in English. I trotted my way over to him. Marquis was my best friend, and I was his best friend. Growing up I was never kept in one school for too long so I never managed to stick any friends but Marquis. I was lucky enough to meet him the rare time my family went to church years ago, because of him we found ourselves going more often to check in on him.

Mark was an awkwardly tall guy just like me, but he managed to grow a little taller than I. He was kind of on the bulky side too— but he had more muscle than I so I’m not the one to say anything about bodies. Mark was from the earliest strain, the rarest strain out of them all and looked different from most of us. One girl he dated described him as being “exotic” with his pale green eye and pitch black wavy hair, which was rare in hirschelfen. He had a unique face for sure, it was easy to pick out the guy in a crowded space. However, what really made Marquis stick out was the extensive burn scarring he had down the right side of his face and through the rest of his body and a gaping hole where his right eye would’ve been. He’d always been reluctant to tell me where he got it from as well as the rest of his history… but he was my closest friend nonetheless. Even if he was from Fenland.

“Are you the only one here? It’s a bit stupid you to just shout something in English,” I said quietly to him, speaking English with him since it made me feel cool. In Deautschria learning English was outlawed, but Mark taught it to me anyways. I’d picked up on the Londoner accent and some of the “lingo” because of him.

“Just Walt,” Mark answered, pointing over his shoulder to a small drum set that the tiny man was sitting at, tapping at one of the drums. The short guy’s oversized blueish-grey ears perked up and turned my way. I gave them a small wave. They gave me a little nod in replacement of a wave without lifting their eyes from what they were doing.

Walt was essentially Mark’s little brother, though they preferred not to be referred to as a man. Walt and Mark shared no resemblance whatsoever and probably didn’t have a single drop of blood in them that they shared. To Mark and I, they were minuscule when in actuality they were only slightly under the average Hirschelfen height. Though, as a heterosexual, non-curious male, I could admit Walt was a good looking guy.. or Elfen. They had a handsome face with these stern blue and brown eyes. They’d look better if it wasn’t for the fact their auburn and blond hair was always a mess, the scraggly and unkempt beard on their jaw that didn’t grow all that much on their cheeks and the various faint acne scars they had on the sides of their face. It was easy to look passed apparently as Walt had an easy time getting girls if they wanted too. However they were too busy trying to cause havoc. All that bundled with the fact little Walty lacked thier right arm, the limb stopping right above the elbow. We assumed they were just born like that.

“What if someone walks in?” I asked Mark, shoving my hands into my pockets.

“Doesn’t matter, they know I’m British. My bandmates boast about it,” Mark said with a little laugh. Whilst he spoke I pulled over another stool and sat myself next to him.

“Speaking of your bandmates, why aren’t you out with them?” I asked. Mark furrowed his brows and pushed a cluster of black curls from his scarred forehead.

“Eh’ they’re just out trying to get themselves pissed and take a girl home. It’s not really my thing. The girl part,” Mark explained, keeping his broad hand in his hair for a moment before letting it drop back down onto his guitar. “Good on them for doing their thing though.” I nodded and yawned.

“Well, in this side of Aldonadorf I’m sure you can go out there and find a guy just as easily,” I teased, nudging his shoulder with a smug snicker.

“Oh shut up!” He scoffed playfully and gave me a good punch in the arm. “You know what I meant!” The both of us laughed.

“I’m just saying!” I joked through laughs.

“God, you idiot,” Mark rolled his eye. I snickered and regathered myself. My ears flinched, listening over to what Walt was doing on the drums. Their ears were swiveling and flicking as they listened to their own work and the sound of the band outside traveling back stage. The pure focus on Walt’s face as they kept up with just their index finger was impressive. Mark interrupted my thought. “They brought me a beer though,” Mark said, pointing down to his paws. I took a quick glance.

“That’s nice of them. What’s Walt doing?” I asked, glancing to the tiny redhead.

“They’re playing along,” Mark answered with a shrug, picking up what was left of the tart he had and finishing it up. He got a couple crumbs in the shoddy mustache he had. My friend wasn’t lucky enough to grow a full beard, he typically had a light mustache and a pretty mean peachfuzz neckbeard to compensate. He wiped his mouth before I pointed it out. “They’re a music boy!” Mark said in a weird high-pitch voice. I snorted. His beer bottle was barely touched. Marquis was purely just a weirdo. In a good way.

“You’re a music boy too, Mark,” I snickered, patting his back.

“Aww, thanks,” he snickered.

“How’d the gig go?” I asked and adjusted my seat, glancing around the equipment about the dark room.

“Went pretty good!” Mark said and smiled, letting his head tilt over with a mess of wavy black hair falling back onto his forehead.

“Were you just guitar this time?” I asked. He shook his head.

“Nah’ I did some percussion and mandolin, hence why I brought my mandolin,” He said cheerfully. “I did uh, get a little nervous at some point and draw a blank. There was a lot of people and when I looked out at saw so many people with their eyes on me my brain kinda panicked and I forgot my part.”

“Oh ouch,” I said with a gritted-teeth hiss. “I would’ve been too scared to even go up there— you’re justified,” I chuckled and patted his back.

“Heh, thanks mate,” He sighed. “I’m sure I’ll be thinking about it for the next five years but that’s just the consequences of being a bit of an idiot,” He replied with a chuckle as well.

“I’m sure you did fantastic, I’m sorry I didn’t make it in time to see any of you guys’ set.”

“No hard feelings, I wasn’t anticipating anyone to come, I just had fun.”

“That’s good to hear,” I nodded. “Ehm. The having fun part, not the part about anticipating no one would come… So, when are you ready to load up and head back home?” I followed up.

“I can just wrap this up in a couple of minutes, I wanna run through one more song and we can go home. You already got a taxi?”

“Oh, nah’ I brought the volkswagen.”

“Sweet,” He nodded, going back to a riff he was playing, bobbing his head along. I sighed and listened, my brain disorganised by hearing the clashing songs yet the two of them seemed to be in their own world musically. It wasn’t easy for me to focus in on one thing, but I sat and waited anyways.

It was a good twenty minutes before Mark unplugged his guitar and put it in its case, then picked up his amp and finally continued to pick up the rest of his belongings. The drumset belonged to the venue so Walt wouldn’t be taking it home anytime soon unless they were going to get very ambitious with their thefting.

“Walty, do you all fit back there?” Mark asked both the tiny german and his guitar and amp.

“It’s all good,” Walt replied rather monotone, giving him a thumbs up. Mark gave them one in return before heading to the passenger side door. “I don’t see why we couldn’t get a carriage to go home, its kinda snug in here,” Walt complained to me as I got the auto started. They flinched when the old auto started growling.

“It’s not everyday you get to ride in an auto through town, Walty,” Mark said, squeezing himself in and pulling the door shut. “But yeah, it is crammed as hell in here— but the trip home will be quicker,” the black-haired elfen shrugged.

“Thank you!” I scoffed triumphantly. “Someone agrees, it's a more convenient mode of transportation.”

“Yeh’ but we don’t use them because they’re bad for the environment,” Mark said, sitting back so I could look past him for a free space to pull out.

“Yeah…. I know,” I said through a long sigh.

“Don’t wanna accidentally make ourselves extinct,” Mark laughed. I heard Walt giggle in the back whilst under the pile of Mark’s supplies.

“That’d be a bit inconvenient,” I replied and finally got a spot to move out, getting ourselves back to the familiar back roads in a span of ten uncomfortably slow minutes to weave through other street goings. Once we got onto the dark and bumpy dirt roads Mark turned on the radio. Before I knew it, Mark and Walt were absolutely jamming out; the two shouting the lyrics to whatever song that was on. It was if they had knowledge of every tune on the radio. I found it pretty humorous how words would merge into one another and they’d sometimes just mumble violently. More so on Marquis’s part as his German still wasn’t great after all this time. I was cracking up the whole ride home.

After an uplifting journey home, I pulled up to the converted farm-house that was Marquis’s house. It was a quaint little thing with a small garden that my mum and him kept up in the front. He had fairy lights strewn over the front with a small white wooden bench next to the barn doors that were all he had for an entrance besides a small glass door out the back. It was a cute little place that he made his own and I hung out there with him all the time. I was just dropping off Walt and him before continuing up the property to my parent’s house.

I waited in the auto, watching the two make it up to the house, Marquis, covered in his belongings. He had a couple farm cats sitting at the door to let in, along with giving Walt a nudge with his paw on Walt’s bum to get them inside. The barn cats that had been waiting outside hurried on in with Walt. I wasn’t sure what it was, but for whatever reason the countless “barn cats” (stray cats that decided to take residence on my parents’ property that we gave names and fed…) adored Marquis. They followed him around when they saw him and he always had a handful of cats spending the night. Once the cats had hustled in, he pulled the door, leaving just a sliver of yellow light out on his front garden. As he set himself up a cig he looked back to me and waved.

“Goodnight!” He shouted to me before putting the cigarette in his mouth and litting it.

“Night!” I shouted back, though my voice didn’t travel as loud as Mark’s. he gave me a nod and turned to look away, prompting me to continue on my drive up uneven paving. I turned off the stereo and sat back, glancing around at the wire and logged fences that kept our cattle and pigs in place on my family’s established homestead. The headlights of my auto shimmered off the wire in the few places where rust had yet to take over. As I went around the bend, the headlights spilled out onto the small pond that resided next to our house, behind our small stables which housed six horse boxes.

The auto jolted onto the well-kept flagstone that surrounded the front of our farm house. I parked by the utility shed in front of the patch of tall grass that we tried to cut down every summer but sprouted back up every year. I climbed out, glancing to the two-story tudor farm house with its blue shutters and red roof, flowers beds on practically every window- besides mine. There was some lights on downstairs to my dismay.. I sighed and headed in.

I attempted to hurry upstairs, trotting quickly passed the living room to the stairs. “Burton?” I was stopped. I cursed to myself under my breath. I slowly rotated on my paw back towards the living room, the fireplace going strong, the radio on the news as it always was when my dad was in the room.

“Yes sir?” I replied, hastily buttoning up my shirt, tossing my head like a bobble-toy to try and reorganise my hair as best as possible.

“Did you already drop Marquis off?”

“Yes sir,” I replied, remaining at the foot of the steps.

“Are you going to continue to hide yourself behind the wall?” My father asked with an annoyed sternness to his voice. I shoved my hands in my pockets and waddled over to the living room doorway.

“No sir,” I said, keeping my tail low. William Octavius Lowell Foxford, my dad. I knew his full name since he’d make me sign for him a considerable amount of times, even if he’d never confess to it. I was his spitting image, he’d make me pop on a flat cap and keep my head low to write his neat little signature on everything. William Octavius Lowell Foxford, William Octavius Lowell Foxford… every letter neat and perfect. He insisted I had better handwriting than him. I was pretty much a younger and lankier version of my dad (I also had more hair.). However the key feature differentiating us was my right ear, which grew crooked and bent. My dad was well into his sixties and still going strong which was absurd as typically us male hirschelfen rarely lived past our fifties…

“Did you get in trouble at all?” He questioned.

“No sir. I was in ‘that’ side of Aldonadorf,” I said with a light-hearted snicker.

“Ah’ the side of the town you and Marquis steal from,” My father said lowly and raised his eyebrows. I glanced away and opened my mouth to speak but decided against it.

“Erh.. anyways, I brought Walt home with Marquis as well. I know you said to only bring Marquis home but I uh, figured you wouldn’t mind Walt,” I explained, rocking on my paws.

“That’s fine. Walt counts as Marquis,” My father said, picking up his glass of white wine, bringing it up to his lips which were framed by a short white beard. “He’s a good kid.”

“Sure,” I shrugged.

“How’s Mark doing?”

“Good. He’s fine,” I replied.

“How’s he fairing with Fenland and Deautschria going back to war? He’s been quiet about it these last couple of months. He usually is very outspoken when it comes to these things,” My dad asked, crossing his hock over his knee. The coming war had completely slipped my mind.

“Oh- I haven’t thought of asking him about it.”

“No, no, don’t ask him about it. You don’t know a single aspect of how war is,” My dad scoffed, though the way he kept his ears up told me he wasn’t angry.

“Mark and I are the same age, dad.”

“Burton… think it out for a minute,” He instructed me, furrowing his brows. I took his advice yet came up with nothing. He gave me a long sigh. “Don’t bring it up to him, it’d be rude. I was just wondering if he’s brought it up at all.”

“Yes sir,” I replied with a solid nod.

“So everyone’s doing good?” He asked, taking a sip.

“As far as I know.”

“Good to hear.” I nodded to him. He took in a long breath and adjusted his seat. The newsman’s voice through the radio hummed low through the room. “Well, your mother’s already gone to bed. It’s a quarter till midnight, you should head to bed as well, Burton,” My father suggested to me.

“Erh, yes sir,” I replied.

“Alright, good night Burt,” He said. I nodded and showed him an open palm before I began my ascend up the creaky, wooden stairs.

Next Chapter ⇢