The dreams persisted ever since that day, never would they return to the peaceful stroll in the fields beyond that Levy was used to. She stayed strong through it all, they truly unnerved her, but the inn came first and ramblings of odd dreams, or maybe prophecies, wouldn't be good for business.

And the poor Travis', the foxes were even more persistent than they were a week before! Brutin was going to the coop every dawn to find empty traps. Levy had been strolling down to the Travis' every morning to deliver food to the hard-working Brutin and to the poor family who hired him.

Anna Travis was the provider of the family and worked in her garden so that her husband - Tim - could pursue his life of endless research into his strange medicines and potions. Their son had turned five a week prior and would help carry his mother's gardening supplies when she worked. Such a happy few, but the misfortune of their slaughtered chickens had put a dent in their pocket and a void in their stomachs. Anna had to quit selling her produce and use it herself to feed her family. Levy just hoped that Brutin would get rid of those pests before they continued to destroy their family's finances.

She had arrived at the Travis house after a two-minute stroll from the inn. She carried a basket filled with buns still warm from her oven and smelt of garlic and butter. Levy stepped up to the small porch and began to knock on the door when she stopped to listen to the commotion going on in the garden.

"What in the nine hells?" came a voice resembling Brutin's.

Levy stepped off the porch and rushed around the house to the back garden. The house had bordered the village and sat by a grouping of trees and bushes which were easy for foxes to hide in while the angry and usually starving dwarf came looking for them. This provoked Brutin to start placing traps there, covering them with leaves and other foliage in hopes that he'd get one when it tried to flee from its crime.

Now Brutin crouched next to one of these hidden traps, Anna hovering over him in a sickly pale color. When Levy got closer she dropped the basket on the ground and nearly lost her stomach. Brutin finally did it, he had caught one. The fox was colored a greenish-gray with patches of fur and skin missing. The smell of the decaying carcass had stabbed the three's noses, it seemed to have been there for a long time.

"Why haven't you gotten rid of that thing yet?" Anna asked sourly.

Brutin wiped a confused sweat from his brow. "I checked the thing yesterday and the bait hadn't even been taken." He picked up a stick and began poking at it.

"You think it still alive?"

"Unless someone put it 'er, yes."

"Who would do such a thing!?" Levy asked holding a handkerchief to her mouth.

Brutin didn't respond, he instead lifted the stick, revealing a mesh of a stringy substance covering the fox. It was too thick to be a web but was no question organic.

A door shut behind the three, Tim had been looking from a distance but was sickened by the strange sight and darted away.

Brutin pulled the stick away and let the string fall back down on the fox. He placed the stick inside of the fox's mouth and began to push it against the roof of its mouth. It moved slightly and the stick made a sick sound as it cut through the rotting flesh like a knife. For only a moment, Levy saw the inside of the fox's jaws. Teeth had fallen out and the tongue was stiff and plump.

Brutin jumped and quickly backed away in terror, they all did. Anna didn't want to believe what Brutin had said but there was no denying it now. The fox had lashed out at Brutin yapping and snapping at him. The anger of the creature was frightening, if it weren't trapped it would rush up Brutin and continue its attack until he was dead.

Levy and Anna froze in stunned silence. The only thing keeping them there was the comfort of the trap and their curiosity about the bizarre subject. Brutin came back calmly approaching the frenzied fox. He had taken his spear which was leaning against the house as he worked. He used its point to force the fox's head down. Though he used minimum force, the point malformed its skull. Without further hesitation, Brutin slipped the spear point into the creature's throat and met no resistance doing so.

The creature was still, never to move again.

***

Levy sat on the inn's porch that evening, the gentle sound of the moving stream beside her helped her think when her mind was scrambled, she did the same when her dreams had begun. She had more trouble than usual sleeping that particular night, a war raging in her mind about whether she wanted to return to that strange dream of the angel and the demon making that unholy pact or to continue existing in her waking life and have the image of the amber syrup that pooled out of the fox's mouth when Brutin stabbed it appear whenever she closed her eyes.

The night was chill with a soft breeze weaving through the large tuffs of grass, making a gentle whistle throughout the village. Several villagers who were still awake began to whistle along to nature's song, and Levy couldn't help but join in. She had finally been able to wipe away the disturbing images from that morning, focusing on the soothing song calmed her soul more than the neighboring stream ever could.

The calm washed away as swift as it had come, as a tavern-goer blasted out of the inn and let the uncontrollable mirth of its patrons bleed into the song, disturbing its melody and breaking the villager's harmony. Levy, now a little annoyed knowing she wouldn't hear the soothing music for the rest of the night turned to look inside her establishment. For the past few weeks, it's been busier than ever before, it seemed like half the village had been living in the southeastern deserts and had finally found an oasis to drink from. Levy went inside to see how Tom - her apprentice - had been holding up, and to her dismay, he was falling behind the constant drunken orders barked at him by the rowdy bunch sitting at the bar.

Her eyes began to dart around the room searching for the friendly militia man that would sit in her bar every day and night waiting for something just like this to arrive.

But Brutin was nowhere to be found.

He had a rough day, Levy thought, justifying his unusual behavior. But the excuse didn't help Tom with the crowd in front of him.

Levy jumped behind the bar and together got the bunch their drinks until they were knocked out cold. Levy's form of justice when dealing with rude patrons as such was to drag them into empty inn rooms and force them to pay for their stay in the morning, which they would simply obey due to being too hungover to argue with the stubborn innkeeper.

She had tucked them in and quietly left the room. She returned downstairs, telling the small number of patrons left drinking to either get a room or leave, nearly taking out her broom and swatting at them like rats until they left. Her patience was thin and the desperation of returning to the stream was getting the best of her, but they all did as they were told, though sluggishly. Levy had instead used the broom to clean up what they had left behind, exiting the inn when she was done.

She had leaned the broom against the inn's door frame and returned to her spot by the stream, now noticing a friend had joined her. The dog's head was tilted down, drinking from the cold water. He had come every so often to give Levy company on late nights, and to get whatever scraps Levy found under the tables that day. Levy complied with their tradition and went back inside to gather her findings, returning a couple of minutes later with a bowl filled with half-eaten stakes and bread crumbs.

She nealed down and placed the bowl next to her friend. The dog didn't notice and continued drinking from the steam. Levy placed her hand on the dog's back and gently moved it down his back, a cringe soon found on her face. She took her hand away, finding all the fur in its path to have fallen off and a web of thick string sprawled across her friend's back.

Levy fell on her behind and scrawled backward, away from the nasty discovery. The dog had finally finished drinking and looked toward Levy. Half the dog's face was protruding a white plate, the jaw hanging off a single hinge, and his eyes shriveled and dead.

The innkeeper had ran faster than she had ever before, shouting out for Brutin all the way to his house. The dog only stared at the woman, breaking the look when he discovered the food bowl.