The loggers dropped their chainsaws. Silas raised the sky-stone, and a beam of null-light shot out, turning ferns to gray dust. Kendra didn't dodge. She re-directed . With a twist of her lithe body, she kicked a fallen log into the beam's path. The wood didn't burn; it ceased to exist, but the distraction was enough.
As dawn bled over the pines, Kendra retreated to her hidden cabin. The pelt receded, leaving her skin smelling of rain and pine resin. She looked at her reflection: human again, but with a single, permanent streak of silver in her auburn hair—a scar from the sky-stone's cold. kendra sunderland vixen
The loggers left the next morning. They'd tell tales of a monster. But Kendra knew the truth. She wasn't a monster. She was the Vixen. And as long as the old trees stood, she would be their sharpest tooth, their cleverest lie, and their final, unforgiving answer to those who forgot that some forests bite back. The loggers dropped their chainsaws