Ferry of Fate: The Foxxfyrre Chronicles Episode Three

 

The Siren Song

The Foxxfyrre Chronicles Episode Three 

Ferry of Fate

Foxxfyrre and Rennie left The Splintered Timber behind, their boots echoing in tandem against the damp cobblestones. Both were deep in thought. Foxxfyrre cast a sidelong glance at the energetic wallaby pacing beside him in the foggy moonlight. There was something unexpectedly sound about Rennie’s presence. It was a chaotic energy, yes, but reliable. It felt… right.

Navigating the unfamiliar terrain of new camaraderie, Foxxfyrre felt a rare impulse. He was just preparing to breach his usual emotional caution to suggest a nightcap when Rennie broke the comfortable silence.
 

"What time do you want to head to the docks in the morning?"
 

Foxxfyrre paused. "Docks?"
 

"Yes, the docks. We're not going to let this mystery lie flat until those stoats gather the courage to track us down for that brass tube you're holding. Right?"

A genuine, quiet smile touched Foxxfyrre’s muzzle. He looked down at the cylinder in his paw. "I have a forty-year-old bottle of port back at my study that is quite eager to be opened. Would you care to join me for a nightcap?"

Rennie let out a booming, chest-deep laugh. "Port? Mate, that would entirely throw off my carefully refined bitter-to-blood ratio. Thanks for the offer, but two tankards on any given day is my strict limit." Rennie pointed a thumb over his shoulder. "My street is just up ahead. I'll call it a night for now, but I'll meet you at the docks at seven sharp."

"Very good, then. Another time," Foxxfyrre said smoothly, appreciating the wallaby's easy declination. "Rennie, if I may ask... why put yourself at possible risk for this?"

The wallaby paused, the bounce settling out of his step for a brief moment. "You noticed something terribly wrong with those stoats and what they were up to. Action needed to be taken. And when I start climbing a mountain, mate, I need to see the top of it."

Foxxfyrre nodded. "Alright then. Seven a.m. it is."

Morning arrived wrapped in the usual early autumn chill, the air thick with briny fog. Foxxfyrre, having packed his essentials with meticulous care, arrived at the docks early. Rennie was already there, leaning against a damp piling.

"Got us both passage on the only ferry heading to the island," Rennie said, handing over a stamped slip of thick parchment. "Leaves in forty minutes."

Foxxfyrre inspected the boarding ticket, his glowing blue eyes narrowing slightly. "Let us hope this isn't a bad omen... if you believe in such things."

"What do you mean, bad omen?"

Foxxfyrre pointed to the cursive script at the top of the ticket. "Did you notice the name of the vessel?"
"Yeah, but what about it?"

"Cantus Sirenum," Foxxfyrre read, the Latin rolling crisply off his tongue. "Literally translated: 'Song of the Sirens'."

"Those mermaid things?"

"No, that is the modern, romanticized telling. Classically, the sirens were half-female, half-bird. Their songs were deadly lures, and not just for men." Foxxfyrre looked out toward the dark silhouette of the ship bobbing in the mist. "They especially favoured innocent children."

Rennie crossed his arms, letting out a low whistle. "Right. So, we have a ship named after deadly bird-ladies, taking us to a haunted island called the Weeping Hollows, where a distraught ghost Lord drowns anyone with a pedigree while searching for his missing daughter. And further implying that these bird ladies may be the reason the daughter went missing in the first place." Rennie looked up at the fox. "No, definitely not a bad omen."

Foxxfyrre’s dry wit flared as he slipped the ticket into his vest pocket. "You are right. It's not an omen." He looked toward the foggy horizon. "It's a puzzle."

Thanks for reading! 

TTFN

Frank aka Foxxfyrre