This was a collaborative work with  Megan Bryar She wrote the following story about the first meeting of two of our characters, while I made the art to go along with it. Please enjoy and let Megan know too if you enjoyed her writing.

Her upload: Here!

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The second horn for muster shrilled out over the ancient stones of the castle, and Emer quickened her pace, heading for the Queen's Square where the rest of the patrol were gathered. Her heart quickened when she saw them, a dozen foxes in scarlet maille, her mother at their head. In her glittering plate, white cloak fluttering in the breeze, Ciara looked every inch the queen. Emer had neither armor nor weapons, but she had eyes and a better turn of speed than anyone she knew, and what more did a scout need?
A third and final horn blast thundered out, making the stones under her feet tremble. She hurried to her mother's side. “Sorry I'm late. I got caught up—”
Ciara hardly glanced at her, before turning to survey her squad, counting heads under her breath. “What are you doing here?”
With an effort, Emer fought back the nervousness bubbling up inside her. “I'm here for the scouting expedition, remember?”
“Absolutely not,” Ciara said. “It's too dangerous.”
“But you said I could come. Last night, remember?”
“I said maybe you could join a patrol sometime, if it wasn't too dangerous. We've had reports of bandits preying on travelers near the ruins of Watcher's Tower, and there are rumors of North-hold soldiers lurking around as well.”
“So what? Give me a sword, and we'll see them off howling.” This earned her a grin from one of the closest soldiers and a burst of laughter from somewhere among the ranks. Tears pricked Emer's eyes, but she blinked them away. “I can do it.”
Ciara glared at her, hands on hips. “We don't have time to discuss this now. Go back to the castle and stay put. That's an order.”
“But—”
“Go. Now. Or I'll have Guard Captain Ivers drag you back and lock you in your room.”
A vixen in armor only slightly less impressive than Ciara's took a single step forward, apparently all too eager to obey her queen's command. To her shame, Emer felt her tail curl slightly around one leg and she stumbled back. Áine Ivers was a stern old fox who wasn't above giving her a swat on the leg now and then and the last thing Emer wanted was to have to spend a day with her.
“You never let me do anything,” Emer said. She whirled around and strode off without looking back.
Keeping her head down in hopes people wouldn't recognize her, Emer headed for the East Gate, the direct opposite direction from the one her mother would take. She chose an winding path, dodging through the empty city streets like an errant marble bouncing free of its chalked circle, until she arrived breathless at the gate. By luck, a horse coper and his entourage were passing through at the same moment, and she let herself get lost in the crush, to dodge the guards. No one noticed her, and a mile outside the city she quit the caravan, heading for a secret place she knew.
A grove of ancient rowans stood at the bottom of a steep hill, far enough from the road to be private but close enough to feel safe. The trees formed a wide ring around a shallow pool, which was home to tiny golden fish and always pleasantly warm. Purple flowers with broad, blade shaped petals grew here, each glimmering with a faint luminescence even in daylight. Emer sometimes came here when she wanted to be by herself.
Kicking off her sandals, she sat on the bank and dabbled her feet in the water. Tears stung her eyes again, and this time she let them fall. The soldiers' laughter still rang in her ears, and her mother had done nothing to stop them. It wasn't the first time they'd laughed, but usually Ciara stood up for her.
The bushes rustled to her left, and a little four-legged swift fox emerged. Her pelt was grey and blonde, similar to Emer's own, which intrigued the girl. Swift foxes of any sort were a rarity in Viridis.
The feral walked over to her with a confident swagger and sat down in a patch of sunlight, an arm's length away. She looked at Emer with one ear cocked to the side. “Why are you crying, girl?”
Emer swiped at her eyes, though it made little difference. “They laughed at me.”
The tip of the fox's tail twitched up and down, once, like an angry cat's. “Who did that?”
“The men. 'Cause I wanted to help. But Mom—”
“Mom.” The fox's mouth twisted in a scowl, as if she'd bitten into something sour. “Parents are the worst. One day, they swear blind you're the most important thing to them – 'Oh, Cyrene, we'd never let anyone hurt you.' The next, they want to marry you off to some rotbag you've never clapped eyes on before, with his filthy leer and double chins, and somehow you're the villain for saying no.”
“Is that what happened to you? I thought ferals didn't marry.”
Cyrene paused and looked furtive for a moment. Then she hunched her shoulders in sort of shrug. “You didn't think we spoke, either, I'm guessing. The world's full of mysteries, girl.”
Emer leaned against the bole of a nearby tree. “That's what everyone says. One day, I'm gonna go find out.”
“Why wait for one day. You've come this far, you can keep going.”
“Just like that?”
Cyrene inched forward a bit, to stretch out in a patch of sunlight. “It's not ideal, but better than going back to a family that wants to enslave you to some male, isn't it?”
“You don't understand. Mom wouldn't do that. Anyway, you were the one who brought it up. I just wanted to join the patrol, and Mom wouldn't let me 'cause she said it was too dangerous.”
The vixen cocked her head to one side in obvious confusion. “You're not running away from home?”
“No,” Emer said. “I just came here to have a little time to myself.”
“And your mother isn't cruel to you?”
“Of course not. I don't think she knows how to be mean. My step-mom always says she's too nice for her own good.”
“Nobody's making you get married to someone you hate?”
“Not a chance. The last time someone even asked about... that kind of thing, Mom had the royal guard chase them out of the city.”
“I see.” To Emer's surprise, Cyrene seemed to be embarrassed. The four-legged fox sat in her patch of sunlight and nibbled at a paw. Eventually, she gave another little shrug. “Well, good. That's good. You're too young anyway, aren't you? Just a wee kit, now I get a proper look at you. Did you say royal guard?”
“I'm eleven,” Emer said. “Mom was living on her own by the time she was twelve. She's the Queen of Cearnach, you know.”
“I don't know you from rocks. I'm not from here.”
A longer silence descended. Emer watched the shoals of tiny fish darting through the clear water on errands of their own. Cyrene sniffed at one of the glowing purple flowers and nibbled at one of the petals. This made Emer smile. She had eaten plenty, over the years. The flowers had a slight, sweet taste and always made her feel as warm and peaceful as the water they grew beside. She watched as Cyrene took another nibble, then devoured three of the flowers in quick succession.
Afterward, the little feral fox lay down again, much closer now. She stretched out and lay with her head on her paws. Her eyes drifted shut and she may have dozed a little, too, though her ears and the tip of her tail twitched and fluttered constantly. Wanting to comfort her new friend, Emer reached a hand out to stroke her.
Cyrene shot to her feet, fur bristling and ears flat, before Emer could touch her. “What do you think you're doing?”
Startled, Emer snatched her hand back. “I just... You looked like you were having a bad dream. I'm sorry. I only wanted to make sure you were okay.”
“By touching me? Sneaking up on me?”
“I was just going to pet you. I thought all ferals liked to be petted. Well, except Thirteen. That's Ciara's horse. She bites.”
Cyrene relaxed and her hackles settled back. “I've never had anyone who wanted to just pet me before. They always want... something else.”
“Don't you have any friends out here?” Emer said.
“Not a one. Never had any back home, either. Even when I can find someone who seems they'd be worth the effort, they don't wanna even try.”
Moving slowly, Emer lowered her hands until her fingers brushed Cyrene's fur. Her pelt was warm and soft, not at all like the matted fur of an animal used to living in the woods. Emer could feel the little vixen trembling slightly, but this faded as Emer stroked her neck and shoulders.
“Why are you being so nice to me?” Cyrene said.
“Because you cared enough to talk to me. You could have just ignored me, but you didn't.”
Cyrene nuzzled her wrist a bit. “I couldn't let you sit out here all sad like that. Nice kid like you. I only wish... Well, never mind. You should go on home soon, before your Mom gets worried.”
“You could come home with me. You'd have lots of friends there, and you could always come spend time with me any time you liked.”
“Do you really mean that?” Cyrene said. “You'd take me back with you to live in your big, fancy castle?”
“Sure, why not? It has a lot of rooms to explore, and a nice garden where you can go if you want some sun. And everyone's really nice. Well, almost everyone. Mom would really like you.”
The little vixen nuzzled her arm again. “What could it hurt? I'll come, but no parents. No one else, yet. If anyone asks, I'm just your... pet.”
Emer held a conspiratorial finger to her muzzle and giggled. “Nobody could ask for a better pet than a magic fox. I won't say a word to anyone, and we'll have a lot of fun, you'll see.”
“It's a deal,” Cyrene said. “And maybe I can teach you how to deal with those bullies who laugh at you.”
All caution forgotten in her excitement, Emer scooped her new friend up in her arms and headed for home. “We can have a proper lunch when we get there, too.”
Cyrene tensed again, for a moment, then relaxed and gave Emer a lick on the cheek. “Thanks, kid.”

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Apparently copy-pasting a text over messes up the formatting, so I did my best to restore it as faithfully as I could to what Megan had done. So if anything seems off about that, it's probably just me having missed something.

Emer belongs to  Megan Bryar
Cyrene belongs to myself.