I remember this sensation. Waking up in the dark. Lying in a bed that was not my own. My body—weightless, separate from sensation—also not my own.

"Dr. Quincy..."

My voice was weak, feeble, and no one answered it. That was where the similarities of this feeling ended. As I moved my body— slow to respond, slow to act— there was no grizzled doctor with a warm smile and checkered shirt waiting to greet me. No inviting smells of eggs and bacon on my lap. No dozen pairs of dark eyes watching me with a mixture of awe and fear.

Just me, alone.

I was in a small, unfamiliar, room where the walls and ceiling appeared to have been constructed from solid, warped wood. The dark wood stretched from the floor in one smooth form, creating a dome effect that made me feel very much trapped. The crinkling of debris echoed through the small dome as I moved around. Feeling around beneath me, I discovered I was lying on a bed of grass and leaves.

With a sigh, I fell back against the surprisingly comfortable 'bed'. I brought my hands up to the ceiling. They were my hands. Human hands. No holes. The arms were mine too— normal. The skin was darker then I remembered, but they weren't burnt or melting.

I was also naked. Strange I hadn't noticed right away. I reached down to feel the hole in my thigh, but found nothing but smooth skin and muscle. I sat up again to feel the rest of me. No scratches, no scars. It was like none of it ever happened.

"Damn magic," I muttered under my breath. Already my voice was gaining in strength— my throat clear of the burns and smoke.

"Do you still use such primitive terms?" a gravelly, chastising voice called down from somewhere behind me.

I cursed out loud and spun around on the spot. I caught the owl's piercing yellow eyes almost immediately. Wooden branches made up the framework of the 'bed' and he had perched himself on some of the taller branches that twisted enough to form the backboard of the plant bed.

            "Well, out with it, boy, what is the proper term?"

            "What the hell are you doing here?"

            The owl blinked once. "No, I am afraid that is incorrect. I shall give you one last chance to answer correctly."

            "Would you cut the bullshit?" I rubbed a hand through my far too long hair. Hornroot was the last person I wanted to have my first conversation with since waking up.

            Unless, I wasn't awake. I could be dead—maybe this was my punishment for my wrongdoings. Being stuck in a room with a talking owl would make anyone repentant.

Hornroot didn't respond right away. I started to feel very vulnerable in my nakedness when my eyes fell on his sharp claws and placed my hands over sensitive areas accordingly. "Look, if I tell you the answer is Knowledge would you mind explaining to me just what is going on?"

            Hornroot cocked his head at me. I wasn't sure why, but it was incredibly unnerving.

            "If you're going to keep this act up, could I at least have some clothes to wear? I'd be much more in the mood to play games with you if I wasn't butt freakin' naked."

            "Hm? Oh, did you say Knowledge? Yes, that is correct. It is good you at least have some sense in that feral brain of yours. As a reward, I shall bestow new information on to you in the form of an observation that a change of clothes can be found in a box beneath your bed."

            "What? Oh. Er, thanks."

            Had this bird gotten weirder since I last saw him?

I reached under a bed and found the box in question. It looked like just a cardboard box, a bit underwhelming after waking up in a bed made of branches and leaves. When I opened the flaps, all I could see was a mess of dark shapes. I forgot to breathe for a moment.

When I scanned the room again, I could hardly see a thing. My ability to see in the dark was gone, though I had it just a second ago.

            "Hey...talking owl, is there a light switch in here somewhere?"

            "That's Hornroot to you, boy. Mr. Hornroot sir, if you would be so kind."

            Was he mocking me?

            "Okay, Mr. Talking Owl, sir, where is the light switch in this room?"

            "Can you not see with your own eyes, boy?"

            "Uh, no, that's why I'm asking about the light switch. Are you following me so far?"

            I watched the owl close its large eyes and shake its head. Like it was freaking disappointed or something. "My, my, one disappointment after another. Our Lady will be most displeased."

            "Stuff it. If you're not going to help me I'll just find the damn thing myself."

            "There is no light switch in this room, boy, but if you answer another question of mine correctly I will reward you with the means to a light source."

            "Look, I really don't have time to be doing this with you," I muttered, digging through the piles of dark fabric in the box. "I just realized that I could be anywhere, in the hands of just about anyone, and if you're not here to be helpful then I'm just gonna assume you're my enemy."

            "What is the title of the one with Knowledge who is tasked with defending our home from the know-nothings and the others with Knowledge who intend to do us harm?"

I held up some sort of clothing. In this darkness, I could not even tell if it was a shirt or pants. They all felt the same.

I groaned."That's easy, it's Mr. Copper."

"Wrong, boy. That is his name, what is his title?"

"Oh for the love of—it's Stalwart. He likes to call himself a Stalwart."

"Very good. I shall admit, you impressed me with that one."

"Yeah, yeah and I'm so very humbled and honored and whatever. You wanna show me that light source now?"

"Hm? Oh, yes. It is simple, boy, you just ask for it."

"Ask for it?"

"Do you mistake me for a parrot, boy? I shall not repeat myself."

"No, I just—Oh, forget it. Um, can I get some light in here...please?"

Without even a seconds pause, little red glowing orbs began to trinkle down from the ceiling. They were light as air, floating and dancing around. Their glow was dull, but there were enough so that light could easily flood the small room. When some drifted closer to my face, I saw that they were little bugs. Fireflies? I had never heard seen ones with red light.     

Looking back down at the box, I could more clearly see the silky, long sleeved black shirt and matching pair of pants. Kat's beanie was on top. My hat. The little fox face was staring back up at me.

I smiled. "Hey, little guy. I almost forgot about you. Glad you didn't get burned up."

"Speak up, boy. I cannot hear you when you mutter."

"It's nothing. I wasn't talking to you."

"Well, hurry and dress yourself. The others are no doubt waiting on us due to your tardiness."

"You're the one whose—just...whatever, shut up."

I put on the clothes and hat with a grumble. When I pulled the shirt over my head, I nearly fell out of the bed when Hornroot landed on my shoulder. I felt the claws dig in when I jumped.

"Ow! What the hell are you doing?!"

"Roosting, boy. Our Lady has instructed me to be your guardian while you are here. And while I loathe the idea of you needing such a thing, I am obligated to do as she asks."

I had to fight the urge to smack the bird off of me.

"Well, you could give me a little bit of warning next time. And where is here anyways? I'd like to have some sort of idea of what I'm stepping into before I...step out into it."

"This is a Gathering."

"Which is...?"

"Where the Community of Wildwood meets, boy, have you learned nothing?"

"No," I hissed, glaring over to the bird's big yellow eyes. "I've been a little busy trying not to get eaten by dogs, killed by people who were...who I thought...who are my friends, and then getting attacked by witches, and—"

"Right, yes, of course."

The owl turned its head away from me. I followed where it looked and saw a door appear into the wooden wall where there once was no door.

"Apologies, boy. It has been rough for you, therefore rough for my Lady, and therefore rough for me. The ones with Knowledge are expecting you. I must remain silent— they believe me to be nothing more than another one of my Lady's owls—but you shall find the answers you seek beyond that door."

Hornroot kept his head turned away, his talons much more relaxed. I looked down at my hands. One was clenching the smooth fabric of the silk pants, the other rested peacefully. They both started to twitch as I watched them. I held my breath and looked back to the door.

"Alright."

I stood up and made my way to the door. The glowing bugs put themselves out one by one and flew back up towards the roof of the dome as I passed through them. There was a doorknob for the door. It was bronze, ornate, with complicated designs into its metal. It was so bizarre I had to take a moment and wonder why it also seemed so familiar. Then I remembered, it looked exactly like every other knob for a door that Mr. Copper made. I must have seen it every time he made a door around me, but only now did it all come together. Strange.

I was reaching for the doorknob when a voice called out to me from the other side of the door: "You may come out, familiar, do not be afraid."

I put my hand on the knob; I could feel the grooves welded into it. The hand was shaking. The knob rattled against the door.

"Do not fear them, boy," Hornroot whispered. "I am here to protect you."

I was clenching my free hand into a fist. I didn't feel any pain from it. They must have cut the nails.

"I'm not afraid."

I wasn't afraid.

What was wrong with me?

I opened the door and stepped out into a dark tunnel made of dirt. We had to be somewhere underground; I could see roots from things jutting out from the ceilings and walls. But, otherwise, the tunnel was smooth, man-made. Well, witch-made, more likely.

A boy, not much younger than me, stood just across from my door. He was small, thin, and dressed in a clean, fancy black suit with a red tie and shiny black shoes. Some of the twisted roots that grew out from the walls were holding torches which filled the tunnel with a dull light and covered the boy's face in shadows.

I opened my mouth, but he immediately held up a dark gloved hand. A smile spread across his face that was so forced it made me uncomfortable.

"Please, let me speak first."

He lowered his hand into a pocket of his jacket and pulled out something small and dark. "To start, I believe this is yours."

He extended the thing to me. I glanced to Hornroot whose large eyes were fixated on whatever it was. I stepped closer to it and held my breath when I saw the little rabbit, Lionel.

I snatched it out of the boy's hands, hardly noticing his surprised yelp, and inspected it. It was just as I last saw him, only now he had a long stitching going up and down his belly. The new white thread contrasted heavily with the black material that made up his body.

I traced a finger down the wound."What happened to him?"

"It was one of Minerva's traps," the boy answered.

He flinched when our eyes met, but cleared his throat and continued: "Minerva, the witch you encountered back in the cabin. From our understanding, she had laid a seed of her own design into each of the dolls she made for her children. It was just another step in her plan to..."

"Kill them?"

"That is...one hypothesis, yes."

"It's what happened—what she was going to do."

The boy opened his mouth to speak again, but stopped and glanced down the hallway to his right instead. I followed and saw only more dimly lit tunnel.

The dark-clad boy turned back to me and gestured down the expanse with his hand. "We should walk and talk."

"Fine."

I pocketed Lionel and felt Hornroot adjust his claws on my shoulders when I turned. The boy in black followed beside me. We walked in silence for a moment.

The tunnel continued in the same fashion. Shadows. Reaching roots. Torches with pale light. It grew dull pretty quickly. The boy was silent— I couldn't even hear his footsteps.

When I turned my focus to him, his head jerked away from me. "Why are you—?"

"My name is Edgar, I forgot to say," the boy interrupted, staring straight ahead. "Edgar Crooster. I am the Overseer of this Community."

"Overseer?"

"The, ah, head of the...ones with Knowledge, here in Wildwood. I'm in charge of most of the affairs that go on in this Community."

I stopped in my tracks and stared down at him incredulously. "You?"

"Yes, me."

He stopped as well, but seemed keen on looking at everything but me. "Why have we stopped? Is there a problem?"

I thought about that seriously as I looked him over. He was really small and thin. His skin was pale, almost white, with long black hair that covered parts of his face that the shadows missed. Not much to look at, even for his age. Yet Maple was about his size and still had the power to destroy anything in her path. If this kid had anything even close to her power, having him in charge would just be the natural course of things.

"I guess not," I answered before continuing to walk. "My name's—"

"Alex Foxy," Edgar answered, hurrying along after me. He cracked another forced smile. "I wouldn't be doing my job very well if I didn't already know your name."

"Yeah? Well, Alex is just fine if it's all the same to you."

I had to avoid seeing his smile. It was really unnerving.

I shifted my attention back to our path and noticed that new torches were lighting themselves down the darkened hallway as we continued to walk.

"So you control fire too or something?"

"Excuse me?"

"The torches. You're the one lighting them, aren't you?" 

I kept my hands shoved in my pockets, but they wouldn't stop shaking. I thought poor Leopold would burst again under the grip I had on him.

"Or did you guys somehow force Maple to put on this little light-show for you?"

Either Edgar didn't notice my change in attitude, or he chose to ignore it. He spared the torches the briefest of glances before answering: "No, she is still on the run. She's one of the big topics of discussion we will have once we meet with everyone else."

I had to close my eyes for a moment. My teeth felt like they were grinding themselves down. Why couldn't I stop shaking?

"What about her siblings?"

"They are fine, all things considered."

I stopped again. Edgar stopped as well. "Alex? Everyone is waiting for us as it—"

"Who's waiting? Are they going to be there?"

"Who?"

"You know who."

The boy in black folded his arms, straightened his back. He tried his best to look tough, firm, but his downcast eyes only told me he was afraid.

Afraid of what? How long was I out this time? What had I missed? What happened to them? Where were they?

Where were they? Where were they? Where were they?

Where were they.

I tore my hands out of my pockets and rushed the boy. I ignored Hornroot's flapping and another of Edgar's yelps. I gripped him on his shoulders and bore into his wide brown eyes.

"P-Please don't touch me," Edgar breathed. He tried to squirm free until I shoved him against the wall. "Alex—!"

"Tell me where they are," I demanded, forcing him to look at me.

He was somehow paler than before. This close, I could see the single bead of sweat trickle down the side of his face. It was a very thin face with high cheekbones. From what I could see through the thick tangles of dark hair, he appeared starved, near death.

He nodded wordlessly and I dropped him. I didn't realize I had him in the air until he fell into the dirt. I stood over him; he did not look at me or try to stand back up.

"Now."

Edgar shot a quick glance at me before lifting a shaking finger down the tunnel.

"They should be—"

I raced through the darkness. The torches were igniting themselves at a rapid pace as they struggled to keep up with me.

Leader of the witches, or not. Terrifying child capable of monstrous magic, or not. I had to see them again. Hear their voices—whether angry or overjoyed. Even if it was the last time, I had to find them.

...

*Author's Note*

Aaaaaaaand, we're back! Anyone surprised to see our titular Foxy back in action? It seems like he is back with no physical scar from his past encounters...but has he fully recovered? They say the deepest wounds are the ones that you can't see.

Nah, I'm sure he's fine. Good ol' Alex Foxy is going to have a happy reunion with his friends and the Quincy children and everything will get back to normal...

But what do YOU think? Are you happy to see Foxy alive and well, or does it only fill you with dread? Whatever your thoughts, I'd love to hear them!