Young Writers Society

Randall must have been running slower than usual that day, because Braxton felt impatient for all of the five minutes they spent getting to the Royal Palace. He almost felt like the journey would have been faster on horse, especially when he could see the skyline of the city drifting lazily across the horizon.

“We’re here,” Randall announced, thumping his tail on the ground. His ears twitched restlessly with the whinnying of horses. “Your horses stink. Don’t you have stable boys to muck this place out?”

Though Braxton wanted to clock Randall on the head, that would require the effort to turn at least partway solid. “Of course we have stable boys. They’re just bad at their jobs.” He strolled down the aisle to make sure his horse at least had clean straw, thankful that his sense of smell had been dulled by the absence of a real body. He leaned over the gate of his mare and frowned. It could be cleaner.

“Randall,” he called, “Let’s go find my brother. This stable won’t get any cleaner unless he yells at the stable boys for me.”

“Thought you’d never suggest it,” the fox said, “Now let’s scram before someone catches me here. It won’t do for anyone other than a valiant and vengeful hero to skin me.”

They set off towards the palace, taking the stable boys’ path for privacy’s sake. Randall avoided every piece of straw strewn on the ground and kept quiet. Soon enough, they reached the servants’ quarters. This part of the palace looked perfectly fine on the outside, but the moment Braxton opened the door, the fox gasped.

“What in the world is this?” he hissed, running a paw through Braxton’s leg.

The second prince wasn’t entirely sure what he was looking at either. His shock was enough to make him ignore the feeling of Randall touching his soul. All around the room, wooden dolls dressed in palace uniforms were hung up on hooks. No wonder Braxton had never seen accounts regarding the payment of servants.

“This is madness,” the fox whispered, “What exactly are you paying for mannequin servants?”

Braxton didn’t know; he was mostly surprised that he’d never noticed this before. He swallowed hard, racking his brain for anything about servants, but all he could remember was the odd receipt for the golden apple fertilizer. “I think we pay in wood,” he said finally.

“No way. It takes a lot more than just wood to make those things.” The fox bared his canines and a deep, guttural sound escaped his throat. “You have to use souls to make mannequins that seem real.” Suddenly, Randall stuck his nose in Braxton’s leg and sniffed. He pulled away and sighed. “I am so glad I took you to the Trador gardens.”

Though that didn’t make much sense, Braxton ignored the fox and strolled across the room. He was glad that none of them seemed alive at the moment, however creepy it was. Poking his intangible head through the door, Braxton looked both ways to check for other people. There was no one at the moment. He opened the door for Randall and led the fox towards the stairwell at the end of the hallway.

The most trying thing about walking through the palace with a fox was not the amount of caution taken to make sure neither of them was seen. It was actually the part where Randall needed to sniff every single decoration in the hallway. Whether it be the edge of an Eastern rug or the base of a giant vase, the fox took his time to get a whiff of everything in sight.

“Can’t you be quicker?” Braxton asked after checking the hallway with the Princes’ bedrooms. Randall was prodding an antique set of armor with his nose.

“Your whole palace reeks of the grossest magic I have ever smelled,” the fox complained, “is the coast clear?”

“Yes. Now let’s go already.” Braxton crept along the edge of the hallway, keeping his steps light in case he accidentally turned hard. He felt Randall trotting behind him, and was glad for the fox’s ability to walk quietly even when casual.

Since Ferrell was the youngest prince, his room came up first along the hall. Braxton turned the handles of the double doors and cracked them open just enough for Randall to slip in. Then he closed them quietly and floated through. Immediately, he looked to his brother’s four poster bed and smirked.

“I feel like it would be fun to get revenge on him today,” Braxton whispered.

“No doubt you’d like to play a prank on your idiot brother, Prince, but we can’t have him alerting the palace to my presence, can we?” Randall’s tail swished in the air. “To be totally honest, I’d jump on him right now if it weren’t for that. Wake him up, will you?”

Before he did that, Braxton took a moment to glance around his brother’s room. He hadn’t felt the need to come in before, and was surprised by its simplicity. The furniture was mostly white, and the walls were still covered by a mural of ocean waves from Ferrell’s sailor obsession eight years ago.

Braxton bent over his brother’s bed and jabbed his cheek. Ferrell’s eyes shot open, and he sat up like someone had sprung a mousetrap on his face. “Who’s there?” he asked, looking around frantically.

“Hello,” Braxton said, “I’m right here.” He waved in front of Ferrell’s face, but didn’t get a reaction. Frustrated, he went semi-solid and pinched his brother’s nose. “In front of you, dumbo.”

Ferrell flinched and put a hand to his nose. His eyebrows furrowed and he glanced around the room. “Where are you? If this is a servant using the invisibility cloak I bought, I’ll have you fired right this second!” Throwing back the covers, he leapt from the bed and nearly landed on Randall’s tail. Braxton was surprised to see that his younger brother wore an actual nightshirt with lace around the collar.

“Watch it,” the fox snapped, “or I won’t give you a hint for the next thing.”

“The next thing?” Ferrell asked. If he was surprised to see Randall, he didn’t show it. Instead, the third prince’s eyes gleamed with anticipation.

“Yes, yes, whatever. Both your brothers sort of got caught in this weird inn, one because he was stupid and the other because he was also stupid, just nicer and kinder, and they’re stuck there and can’t get the golden bird back,” Randall explained. Braxton glared at the fox; calling him stupid had been unnecessary. “And you know, you’re kind of the last prince here, and I’d like it if you got this right. I’ll lead you to the bird, got it?”

Ferrell nodded dumbly as Braxton opened the doors for the fox.

“Meet me by the stables with your horse, and make sure your stable boys do a better job with their cleaning!” Randall said. He flounced through the open doors and marched left, leaving Braxton no time to think as he caught up.

Together, the second prince and the fox snuck back through the palace, taking a different exit. Neither one really wanted to see the hanging mannequins again.

It took a good thirty minutes for Ferrell to arrive at the stables. When he finally did, the he was dressed strangely plainly, wearing commoner’s trousers instead of his usual white hose and black boots. He stopped in front of Randall and crossed his arms. “Don’t look at me like that, fox. We can’t all just wear furs.” Then, he strode into the stables to ready his horse.

“Was I looking at him funny?” Randall wanted to know.

Braxton shrugged and changed the subject. “So, why is Ferrell going to ride his horse while I had to hold onto your tail like an undignified fool?”

“Because I didn’t find you until it was almost sunset, and also because I feel obliged to stay with you. It’s not like you can keep up with a horse.”

Though he didn’t like being told that, Braxton agreed that the fox had a point. They waited in silence a few more minutes until Ferrell rode back with his palomino saddled and ready to go. By then, it must have been almost noon, but Braxton couldn’t tell since he didn’t have a stomach as a ghost.

“What now, fox?” Ferrell asked. He shook his head to get a stray hair from his face and avoided looking at Randall.

“You know the road that leads north out of town, right?” the fox said, his tail flicking impatiently, “well you’re gonna take that one until you reach two inns, one of them is very nice and looks inviting, and the other one is practically invisible because it’s so run-down.”

Ferrell nodded, staring blankly into the trees near the stable.

“It’ll probably be dark when you get there, so you’ll have to stay the night, but don’t go into the nice inn. Stay at the decrepit one, and then meet me outside in the morning. You got that?”

“Yes.”

“Then get going already! There’s no time to lose!” If Randall hadn’t been a fox, Braxton bet he would have slapped the horse’s butt to get it moving. The second prince watched as his brother sped away, and listened to Randall hacking and coughing in the dust the palomino had kicked up.

When the fox seemed to have cleared his throat, Braxton asked what they would do next.

Randall crinkled his nose. “We’re going to the Avondale estate. That’s where the bird is, and I want to make sure everything is in place. That includes your brother. Got to make sure he’s with Lady Avondale and not stuck in some magic contract.” Whapping his tail on the ground, he signaled for Braxton to grab on.

“What do you mean, magic contract?” Braxton tried to ask, but he was too late. His fox friend had forgotten to count to three, and the landscape blurred beneath Braxton’s feet.