The smell of salt lingered heavy in the coastal breeze, mixing with the damp scent of moss-covered wood and seaweed-strewn sand. A solitary shack sat near the edge of the crumbling coast where England stretched its arms toward Wales — a place where the world seemed to forget its own rules.
Inside, Brendon Wolf lay on a coarse khatiya, its wooden frame creaking gently under his weight as the wind rattled loose shingles above. A tattered Indian quilt lay over him, though he wasn't asleep. He hadn't been for hours.
His anber-like yellow eyes stared into the faded ceiling, yet his thoughts dug into far more distant places — seven years back, into the dark alleyways of betrayal, the echoing clang of iron bars, the courtroom whispers, and the silent betrayal that still pulsed like phantom pain.
How did she know where I am?
Why now?
After everything…
Brendon clenched his jaw, ears twitching at every gust of wind that beat against the shack's shuttered windows. His tail hung limp over the edge of the cot, brushing sand that had crept indoors. Nearby, an oil lamp flickered with rhythmic breaths of the sea wind.
Then came footsteps. Measured. Familiar.
The door creaked open.
She stepped in — wrapped in an olive-green trench coat, boots crusted with dried mud, her posture part-defensive, part casual.
Her scales shimmered faintly, like oil in moonlight. Camelia Webbs — the chameleon anthro whose presence twisted his gut tighter than any weapon ever had.
Camelia:
"Still angry, man?"
Brendon didn't look at her. Just exhaled slowly through his nose, as if the very sound of her voice confirmed his nightmares.
Brendon (low):
"I have all the rights to be."
Camelia (brows furrowed):
"I can see that. Okay talk to me. Your silence is giving ne the creeps."
Brendon sat up slowly, fur tousled from sleep — or lack of it. He dragged his feet off the khatiya and onto the cold wooden floor, rubbing the back of his neck.
Brendon (he gives a frustrated sigh):
"You... show up, out of just nowhere, after seven years... ask me to get on a boat with you... then dump me in this rotting hut like it's some kind of f*cking reunion camp."
Camelia (deadpan):
"Better than prison, isn't it?"
Brendon (sharper):
"That's... not funny."
A heavy silence followed. The wind screamed outside — the kind that reminded you no one was coming.
Brendon (rising, voice trembling):
"You didn't even look at me in court. Not once. While they spat on me. Called me a mutt. A thief. A killer. You weren't even there, even though you knew the truth."
Camelia's eyes narrowed — not out of defiance, but defense. Her tongue flicked behind her lips, a nervous tic.
Camelia:
"Because if I had, I would've ended up next to you. Or worse — dead."
Brendon:
"So that's it? You just watched me to burn?"
Camelia:
"You told us to stop. To surrender. To 'turn ourselves in and live normal lives.'"
(Her voice rising)
"Do you even have any idea what that would've meant for someone like me, Brendon? An anthro chameleon, a hacker with a file thicker than a church bible? You think society forgives that? The same goes for them too."
Brendon (bitterly):
"We were a family, Camelia. I just wanted the benefit for us. Us being afraidfeared by others. (Sigh) No I wouldn't let that continue."
Camelia (snapping):
"No. You were the one who broke the family, Brendon! You wanted to abandon the only thing we were good at. That crew, that job — it was our survival!"
She turned away, back rigid, arms folded tightly.
Camelia (quieter now):
"I can understand you tried to save us... you wanted all of us having respect in society… but you didn't even ask if we wanted that."
The words struck harder than any punch. Brendon sat back down, elbows on knees, staring into the sand piling against the doorframe. For a long moment, neither spoke.
Brendon (muttering):
"I just… I thought we could be something better."
Camelia:
"We didn't know how to be anything else."
Another gust of wind rattled the walls. This time, it didn't seem so cold.
Camelia finally turned back around. She walked over to the wooden crate that served as a table and picked up a thermos, unscrewing the lid. Steam hissed out.
Camelia:
"Want some?"
Brendon (gruff):
"I don't drink seaweed tea."
Camelia (snorting):
"Still dramatic as always."
She poured anyway, handing him the steaming tin cup. He took it but didn't drink.
Brendon:
"So… what happened after I went down? After you all f*ckers walked out?"
Camelia paused, her expression darkening.
Camelia:
"Drew… went darker. Meaner. Started working for black arms groups. Stuff even I didn't touch. He never trusted anyone after that."
Brendon's ears twitched. Drew Torres. Another wolf. His so-called brother in the alleyways. The one who'd led the betrayal, the mastermind.
Camelia (continuing):
"Blake Maddison left the country. South America, I think. Haven't heard from him in four years."
Brendon:
"And Felix?"
A shadow crossed her face.
Camelia:
"Dead. Drug smuggling op gone wrong. Someone slit his throat in Lisbon and dumped him in the docks."
Brendon shut his eyes.
Another brother lost.
Camelia:
"I was the only one left. Everyone else vanished. And then…"
She hesitated.
Camelia (carefully):
"She found me."
Brendon opened one eye.
Brendon:
"Who?"
Camelia (softly):
"The Ninja Fox."
The name stirred him.
Brendon:
"That legendary criminal? Known for her swift and precise burglaries. Even the most soficticated security measures couldn't stop her from stealing the 'Koh-i-Noor' from the Tower of London. And the robinhood for those anthros who are just left behind by this society. Are you talking about that legend?"
Camelia nodded.
Camelia:
"Yeah. That fox. I didn't know her name at first either. I just knew she was fast, smart, and never left a trace."
Brendon (skeptical):
"And now she's what, your boss?"
Xamelia:
"She… protected me. Gave me a place when I had nothing. She's built something. Something you wouldn't understand until you meet her."
Brendon:
"Where is she?"
Camelia (avoiding eye contact):
"Occupied. You'll meet her tomorrow."
Brendon (brows lowering):
"Why all the secrecy?"
Camelia:
"Because that's how she stays alive. She has enemies. Lots. Powerful ones."
Brendon:
"Uh huh... I should've figured. But you still haven't told me why she wants me."
Camelia:
"She has a job for you."
Brendon scoffed.
Brendon:
"Is that so?"
Camelia:
"This isn't about money. Or redemption. It's about Ridgecliff."
He looked up sharply.
Brendon:
"…What about Ridgecliff?"
Camelia:
"That's her town now. She works from the shadows. Has for years. But something's shifted. Someone's making moves that threaten everything — the mayor, the council, the underground. She said she needs you. Because only one person knows Ridgecliff like she does."
Brendon's chest tightened. Ridgecliff. The town that hated him. That gave him the badge but never the trust.
Camelia (softening):
"You always talked about fixing things. Maybe this is your shot."
Brendon stood slowly. His tail swayed behind him, uncertain.
Brendon:
"One more day. If I don't like what I hear tomorrow… I'm out."
Camelia (nods):
"Fair enough."
She walked to the door, pausing with one hand on the frame.
Camelia (without looking):
"You weren't the only one who are hurt, Brendon. But you were the only one who believed in something better. I envied that."
Then she left.
---
Later That Night
The shack groaned again under the sea wind. Brendon lay on the khatiya, staring at the warped ceiling. In his mind a worn photograph materializing — a faded group shot from long ago: him, Camelia, Drew, Blake, Felix. Young. Reckless. Smiling.
All ghosts now.
She's occupied with some work now…
Brendon's mind turned over that name.
The Ninja Fox.
Ridgecliff.
Mayor Guerieo.
Something just doesn't feel very comforting about this.