Ren's expression soured instantly, like she had just bitten into a lemon that had gone bad three weeks ago.
"The Fox," she repeated, her voice laced with desperate hope. "You mean... a different fox? Maybe a wise, elderly fox elder? A librarian fox? A super kind and humble fox?"
Syris looked at her like she was speaking a foreign language. "There is only one Fox Shaman of importance. Vex. The Trickster."
Ren's face darkened with pure despair. She buried her face in her hands.
'Of course. Of course it's him. Why would the universe give me an easy quest NPC when it can give me the guy who probably charges an admission fee to breathe his air?'
She remembered Vex clearly. The orange ears, the three tails, the roguish grin that hid a mind sharper than an obsidian blade. He was the one who had sold her the information about Vara. And the price? Her last bar of rose-scented soap.
The man was a menace. A capitalist in a fox fur.
