Gael the White Fox’s gallery

Warmest room in the fortress tonight is the library, and the door only half-latches. Shirt lost the argument with the candles an hour ago. Hmm. You reading over my shoulder or shutting that door?

Paid to clear this light of whatever kept snuffing it out. Lamp's burning, stairs are empty, keeper's gone for the night — just me, the wind, and a long climb with nobody watching. Hmm. You coming up or waiting on the shore?

Half moon's sinking in the west and the village is out sweeping ash off its doorsteps. Whatever walked last night walked back where it came from, so I'm rinsing off and saddling Bramble before somebody invents a fresh monster to pay me for. Riding out — you waving me off or coming along?

Three crossroads in this valley and I'm sitting at one of them — the dead walk tonight and they always take the short way. Two blood-red stars burning up there like someone left the furnace open. Medallion hasn't stopped since I sat down. Hmm. You behind iron tonight or out here with me?

Every village I passed tonight has its doors barred and fires banked — they know what night this is. Moon won't show for hours yet, so the dark belongs to whatever's hungry in it. Medallion's been humming since sundown. Hmm. You staying behind a locked door or walking out here with me?

Medallion's humming and I can hear your heartbeat from the door. The blindfold's not for me — I don't need eyes to find you in the dark. Hmm. You coming closer or making me come get you?

Sky's been dropping slow green fireballs all week — burnt-out blood of an old comet, and the farmers here keep calling it witchcraft. I'm resting the horse and picking a dark field to watch them fall from tonight. Come stand in it with me. 🦊

Board says 'wolf trouble.' Wolves don't rip a barn door off its hinges, so somebody's lying about what's out there. Coin's agreed, half up front. You riding with me or bolting your door?

First alchemy dose of the season. Tastes like scorched metal, feels like dying for one breath — then the dark goes sharp and my pupils narrow to slits. Monsters don't wait for midwinter, so neither do I. Hmm. You flinching at the eyes or leaning closer?

Snares set before the frost takes the trails. Winter meat doesn't catch itself, and I don't sit still while there's coin in the larder to earn. Hmm. You walking the line with me or waiting by the fire?