Hunting the White Fox

Noren sidestepped, and a sharp slash split the wolf’s hide, cleaving it in two. Blood and gore sprayed from the severed body, but her bloodstone barrier blocked it in time—she didn’t want filthy wolf blood staining her expensive winter clothes.

“Beast!” A drawn-out roar came from beside her. Tolruk had been tackled by a wolf; he held its jaws apart with both hands, while several other wolves prepared to lunge in for the kill.

Wolves are cooperative hunters. A lion might rage at a third party interfering in its duel, but not a wolf—it only wants to feast.

“Tolruk’s in danger!” Noren’s heart tightened. She took a big step and delivered a powerful kick straight to the wolf’s midsection.

A pained yelp. The wolf soared into the night sky, swallowed by the darkness.

Noren grabbed Tolruk and yanked him up, simultaneously thrusting her sword into the belly of a wolf that tried to ambush them. She used the carcass to smash into another wolf sneaking from the other direction.

“Are you hurt?”

“Barely.” Tolruk flexed his hands. He wore leather gloves; when he had gripped the wolf’s jaws, the fangs hadn’t pierced through.

“Good. Stay sharp and focus on the situation.” Noren nodded. The hands were precious—a minor injury could affect their movement and drastically reduce combat effectiveness.

“Grrrrr…” The remaining dozen wolves encircled them, forelimbs low, powerful hind legs ready to spring. Their bared fangs and guttural growls sounded like revving motorcycle engines.

Before the pack could attack in unison, Noren vanished and burst forward: “Strike first!”

She targeted the pack leader—a massive wolf nearly four feet at the shoulder, the strongest of them all.

Capture the chieftain to vanquish the tribe. Kill the wolf king, and the pack would retreat!

“Ha!” She held her sword with both hands in a reverse grip and drove it straight at the wolf king’s head, determined to pin the cunning beast to the ground!

The wolf king’s instincts screamed danger. It launched itself aside, dodging the lethal blow.

“?” The sword tip stabbed into soil. Noren froze for a moment. “I missed?”

An uppercut shattered the teeth and tongue of a wolf that tried to ambush her. She glanced toward the wolf king, noticing the human-like fear and caution in its small eyes. She couldn’t help but sneer.

“Oh? The beast knows fear?”

She rose, hurling her sword at a wolf attempting to ambush Tolruk from behind—pinning it dead. Then she grabbed the hind leg of another wolf that leaped at her and used it like a baseball bat to knock away another attacker.

The wolves threw themselves at her to protect their leader, dying and wounded.

“Yip!” The wolf king let out a mournful howl, calling for retreat. It was afraid; it didn’t want to die.

Food was scarce in autumn and winter, but life was more precious.

The wolves turned to look at their leader, hesitated for a moment, then followed it in flight.

The wolf pack fled with their tails between their legs…

…

…

…

The girl gathered a pile of branches and fluffed up some tinder—shavings scraped from dry wood. She struck a firesteel, sending sparks onto the tinder, then pursed her lips and blew gently. White smoke curled up, thickening.

She wrapped the tinder in leaves to shield it from the cold night wind, took out a handful of dry straw, and placed it on top. Then she carefully arranged branches and sticks into a simple campfire.

Soon, light flickered from the bottom, the straw caught, and the wood ignited, casting a bright flame into the dark night.

“Tolruk?” Noren called softly.

“Huh?” The boy was wiping blood off his sword with snow. Noren’s sword lay at his feet; after every battle, he helped polish out the scratches and nicks.

“I tied the dead wolves into a string with rope. Drag them back to the village when dawn comes.” The girl scooped up some snow and rubbed it over her gloves to clean the blood. When the snow got dirty, she picked up fresh snow.

“What about you?” Tolruk asked.

“I’ll keep trying my luck in the forest. Maybe I’ll wait for that white fox to come out and hunt…” She warmed her hands over the flames; her stiff joints loosened up. Perhaps she had been too cold to kill the wolf king in one blow.

Silence fell after her words.

Time passed in the quiet.

In the winter wilderness, there were no insects or birds—only the mournful howl of the cold wind. A sense of loneliness hung over them.

Noren suddenly wanted to talk—anything to break the damn silence.

“I…” they both said at once.

A moment of surprise.

“You first…” “No, you go ahead…”

They offered way.

“Pfft!”

They shared a smile.

The girl cleared her throat. “You go first.”

Tolruk nodded and smiled. “Why must you hunt the white fox?”

Noren composed her thoughts. “Because foxes, wolves, dogs—some of these animals carry a deadly poison. If they bite through the skin and draw blood, you can get infected.

Only by killing the culprit and smearing its brain on the wound can you counteract the poison—like cures like.”

She sighed. “There’s another way: suck the poisoned blood out of the wound.”

Tolruk raised his hand, looking at the bandage. “But my wound has already healed.”

“Exactly. That’s the problem.” Noren shook her head. If the rabies virus was already inside, cutting open the wound now wouldn’t suck out the tainted blood. Only the antibodies in the canine brain could treat it.

“Will I definitely be poisoned?”

Noren pondered. “Not necessarily. If you don’t develop hydrophobia or spasms within twenty-one days… and by day one hundred, still nothing, then you’re clean.”

She comforted him. “I’ll catch it. Don’t worry.”

Tolruk stared blankly at his hand. *Am I poisoned? Why don’t I feel anything? Why does this poison take so long to act?*

Seeing him distracted, Noren changed the subject. “Remember our poaching trip last year?”

Tolruk lowered his hand, forgetting the fox bite, and looked at the girl. “I remember. Back then, Opava was still Count Conrad’s territory. We had hunted all the boars in the forests around Ostrava, so we had to poach boars in the forests south of Opava.”

She shrugged. “Yeah, and we ended up running into a sorcerer and some pursuers from Opava.

But now it’s better. Ostrava and several nearby villages, along with the forests, have been designated as a barony. Dad was appointed baron, and our forest territory has expanded many times over.”

Noren pointed to the ground. “Take this forest we’re in now. A few miles from Ostrava, next to the barony’s village of Ludgerovice. It’s rich in forest resources. I’ve always wanted to hunt here, but it was full of hunters, and back then Dad was just a knight. If we were caught…”

She smiled wryly.

“But now that Dad’s a baron, I can freely use the surrounding forest resources. I don’t have to worry about being discovered. Instead, the hunters, outlaws, and runaway serfs hiding in the forest have to worry about me.”

She poked the fire with a stick, making it burn brighter.

In the past, her huge appetite meant she could fill her stomach with just wheat, but that would lead to malnutrition. Adequate meat protein was essential. She also liked brewing soy sauce with meat and beans, so she had to go hunting.

She had calculated: an adult boar weighed 180 pounds. After removing blood, bones, hide, and innards, about 120 pounds of edible pork remained—including 90 pounds from trotters and 30 pounds from ribs and other cuts.

120 pounds of meat didn’t last a month between Svein, Frey, and herself.

Sometimes a whole boar was gone in half a month. Unthinkable in the 21st century.

But what could she do? She and Frey were growing, with fast metabolisms and big appetites. Svein was a 200-pound strongman. Medieval food lacked fat, so high-energy, high-cholesterol meat was the only way to get proper nutrition.

And following Norse tradition, she split the hunt evenly—half went to Tolruk’s family. Over time, they emptied the forests around Ostrava of boars.

As for rabbits and game birds, they weren’t enough for a proper meal. She only set small traps and checked them occasionally.

Wolves? Their meat was tough and stringy, unpalatable. As mentioned, Noren had already killed off all the wolves in Ostrava’s forest out of personal grudge.

But now things were different. The brewery was running; the Jew Ogmund and “Handsome Otto” had given her plenty of silver coins. Her treasury was well-stocked. She could buy meat from Hradec.

Thinking of this, she smiled. The orange firelight softened her cool features, erasing the aristocratic distance from her face. She looked like a cold princess transformed into a warm, older-sister figure.

The fire and her gentle beauty made the boy’s mind wander. He thought, *If only I could…*

“Does your family have enough meat? Need me to send over a couple of smoked pork hocks?”

Tolruk nodded instinctively, then seemed to realize what she said and shook his head.

“We have enough.” He looked down, silent. *After all, she’s not mine.*

Seeing the Norseman boy so dejected, Noren thought he was worrying about the rabies. She scolded herself for bringing it up and tried to cheer him up.

“I was just talking nonsense. The chance of poisoning is very low. Only rabid dogs, foxes, or wolves carry that toxin. Besides, we Norse are strong—a little poison is nothing. Just endure it and it’ll pass!”

She said it jokingly, hoping to ease his mind.

Tolruk grunted, as if figuring something out. His expression brightened, and he smiled again.

They chatted aimlessly, occasionally laughing. The quiet forest echoed with their joyful voices.

As they talked and laughed, time passed quickly until dawn. The pitch-black sky thinned and lightened, turning blue-white. A streak of crimson climbed from below the horizon…

Day broke.