Under the Moon of Taxoxcia
Chapter 1

“I hate this damn jungle!” Thomas Logan cursed as he hacked through another wall of green vines. “It never ends!”

“You’re not the only one, Tom,” Bethi groaned behind him, still fiddling with the GPS unit. It gave a warbling beep before sparks burst from the battery pack. Bethi yelped and dropped the tracking device to the soft jungle peat.

Thomas whirled on his wife, letting the machete fall to the ground. “What happened? You okay?”

“I’m just peachy!” she cried, angry tears in her eyes. “I’m lost in this godforsaken jungle, the GPS just zapped my hand and we’ve got maybe a few days rations left.”

She shook her hand, hissing at the angry red welts across her fingers, then kicked the GPS into the trunk of a huge crabwood tree. “It’s totally useless! The water fried the battery pack.”
Thomas muttered another curse and stared up into the leafy green sky above them. He could spot streams of sunlight filtering through the thick canopy, but it was impossible to figure out where the sun was. Unless they could find a clearing, they would just keep wandering through the endless foliage.

The downpour yesterday took the archeologists completely by surprise. Within ten seconds of the first boom of thunder, they lost sight of the rest of the party inside a wall of water. Thomas had grabbed Bethi’s hand and scurried to find some cover from the incessant rain. The only thing they found was liquid mud when they stumbled into a steep gully, filled with raging water. The impromptu river swept them away in the raging current, stripping the majority of their equipment away. The brief minutes in the water completely disoriented them inside the jungle, leaving the damaged GPS as their last hope. All that was left was what remained in their sodden expedition vests, and it wasn’t much.

“Listen, Bethi,” he said as angry tears filled his wife’s eyes. “We need to keep moving. Once we find a clearing, we’ll set up camp and use the last signal flare. I’m sure Marcus will have the chopper in the air searching for us.”

“And what happens when he doesn’t see the flare?”

“He’ll see it,” Thomas said, stooping to pick up the green-stained machete. “He’ll see it.”

Bethi didn’t look convinced, but the archeologist did his best to ignore the look and continued hacking through the underbrush. With every stroke, he mentally kicked himself for suggesting the new expedition to Bethi. The ancient journals from the Spanish trade vessel off the coastline were the first proof that the Chamber of Red existed.

Thomas had known how Bethi would react when he showed her the ancient notes, telling of a brief encounter with a small village on the coastline, purportedly the last remnants of the mythical town of Taxoxcia and the home of the fabled Chamber of Red. Bethi was utterly fascinated by the journals and resolved immediately to repurpose the expedition to discover Taxoxcia.

“It’s not your fault you know,” Bethi said as she attacked the underbrush beside him.

“I know,” Thomas said offhandedly.

“It’s really not,” she repeated. “I read the journals just the same as you. It would be a find of a lifetime. Actual evidence of the Foxfolk.”

He smiled as her eyes sparkled at the idea. Despite their dire straights, the idea of finding Taxoxcia was still intoxicating to her.

“Right now, I’d be satisfied with finding a place that wasn’t still wet,” he quipped.

“So would-ah!” Bethi stopped in mid-sentence as the final bits of vines gave way.

Behind the stubborn wall of plants lay an ancient cobblestone path, barely visible from the creeping growth of the jungle. Thomas leapt over the remains of the blockade, knelt and studied the stones intently. He gently brushed his hand against one, feeling the worn granite beneath his palm.

“Do you think this could be--,” Thomas breathed.

“--The Way of the Paw?” Bethi completed. She nodded, her stained glasses leaping on her nose. “It has to be! Look at the marking stone!”

She pointed at a waist-high rock. It was thick with creepers and algae, but in the center, they saw an orange pawprint. The two grinned at each other for a moment. Bethi brushed the plants off to reveal a series of scratches below the pawprint. With a swipe of her detailing brush, the arrow appeared, pointing the way along the path.

"We should try to find the camp and bring along the rest of the expedition," Thomas said, eyeing the rocky path disappearing into the trees.

"You know we won't find this again!" Bethi cried. "This is our only chance to actually see the Chamber of Red!”

Thomas stared at the woman. Her dirty blond hair flitted about as she practically bounced with excitement. Mud streaks stained her khaki shorts, just like the vest and thin t-shirt. Her red-rimmed glasses sparkled in the twilight of the jungle floor. Excitement burned the air around her, the blue eyes behind the lenses glowing with enthusiasm. Despite her state, there was simply no way he could refuse her.

“We’ll scout it out,” Thomas relented. “But we’ll need to find a clearing by sundown.”

She leapt into his arms, laughed wildly and smashed herself against the dark blue shirt he wore under his own expedition vest. Bethi spun them around for a few moments, the soles of his boots cracking against the stone path.

“It’ll be worth it, Tom!” Her laughter pealed through the jungle, silencing the constant calls of animals and birds. “This find will make our careers!”

“We need to find it first.” Still, Thomas couldn’t help but grin at her pleasure. She was just too cute when they discovered something. He dutifully followed the archeologist as she jogged down the path in the direction of the arrow.

---

Thomas glanced up at the trees and tried to determine how much sunlight was left from what little filtered through the canopy. He guessed three hours had passed since they first discovered the Way of the Paw. Every so often, they would come across another marker stone, showing them they were still on the right track as the pawprints shifted slowly from orange to vermillion.

As they passed the eight marker, Bethi scribbled something in her vest notebook.

“They’re getting redder the closer we get,” she commented, not looking up at him. “It must mean we’re getting close. From the shifts in the color, I’d say we have only about two or three more markers before we reach Taxoxcia.”

Thomas glanced behind him into the dense trees, his hand fingering the hilt of the machete. Bethi noticed his apprehension.

“What’s wrong?” Her low voice carried only a short distance among the noise of the jungle.

“I don’t know,” Thomas muttered. “Ever since we got on this road, I’ve felt like something was watching us. I don’t like it.”

Bethi smirked. “Maybe the Foxfolk are curious who the trespassers are.”

“Cut it out,” he growled. “I’m serious. There are panthers in this jungle.”

“Please.” Bethi waved it off. “Panthers wouldn’t come near humans. There’s still rampant poaching here.”

“Well, then, maybe it’s not a panther, but something is watching us.”

“Stop being paranoid, Tom!” Bethi smiled. “It’s just us out here, and out there is the Chamber of Red, just waiting for us to find it!”

“Okay, okay,” he said. “Let’s go, but just be careful.”

“I’m always careful!” She jumped forward into trot.

“Oh yeah? Like the dive off the coast of Crete?”

“How was I supposed to know the caves were unstable?”

“And the incident with the warlord in Peru?”

“He would have made trouble for us even if I didn’t stumble into his camp.”

“Sure he would have.” Thomas rolled his eyes, safely behind his wife.

“I saw that you know,” she commented.

---

The dusk of the jungle deepened as they walked, filling the air with a humid darkness. They used their flashlights to watch for the markers along the Way of the Paw. The flashlights were small handheld units, nothing like the powerful lanterns inside their lost packs. Small spots of light flickered across drooping vines and gnarled trees as they crept along the ancient trail.

Coming across the eleventh marker stone, Bethi knelt before it and once again brushed it clear of debris. She stared hard at the color of the pawprint etched into the stone.

“Tom!” she called. “Give me some more light.”

Thomas shined the light on the pawprint and squinted.

“My sister would say that’s cherry red.” She smiled, wiping her glasses on the dirty vest.

“An interior decorator would know,” Tom said with a smirk.

“Considering the color shifts on the marker stones, I think this is the last one.”

“Then Taxoxcia should be around here somewhere.”

“Right!” Bethi leapt to her feet and flicked her flashlight through the creepers hanging from the twisted branches. “Let’s move forward.”

Time had little meaning as they slipped slowly through the jungle. Their eyes darted back and forth, seeking any sign of the ancient home of the Foxfolk. The glow from their flashlights moved like fireflies among the thick growth. They strained their ears to hear over the din of the birds and creatures flittering around them, but there was nothing out of the ordinary.

“If I remember right,” Tom said as he peered into the gloom. “The journal said Taxoxcia was protected by an enormous wall, sealing the settlement from the rest of the jungle.”

“I still don’t see anything but the Path.”

A brief glimmer caught Tom’s attention.

“Get back!” he hissed and dragged Bethi off the path. She almost let out a shriek of alarm at his sudden action. He slammed her against the tree and knelt, peering around the mossy trunk.

“What the hell, Tom?” she grunted.

He shushed her with a sharp motion and peeked out again. Bethi joined him a moment later.

In the darkness before them, two yellow orbs glimmered.

“What is it?” Bethi whispered.

“They look like animal eyes. But there’s something odd about them.”

For several long minutes, the two humans watched the flickering spheres, waiting for the slightest hint of motion. Thomas fingered his machete once again, finding a sliver of comfort in its heavy weight on his belt.

“They can’t be animal eyes,” Bethi declared in an amused voice.

“And why not?” he hissed, startled by her sudden statement.

She glanced down at him with a smirk. “Because they aren’t blinking.”

Thomas winced. She was right. They hadn’t once blinked since he first spotted them down the Path.

The archeologists crept out from behind the protection of the crabwood tree and approached the orbs cautiously. At first, they could make out a dim shape in the darkness that appeared nearly human. Thomas gritted his teeth, forcing himself to continue moving toward the eerie lights.

He hesitantly swept his flashlight toward the thing in the darkness.

It was nothing more than a statue. But as they came closer, they could easily see that it was far from human.

“My God,” Bethi said in awe. “It’s one of the Foxfolk.”

The statue was a bit taller than Bethi, so Thomas estimated the creature to be a little shy of five foot ten inches in height. The glowing orbs were the eyes, but they were no more alive than the rocks beneath their feet. The statue gazed at them over her protruding muzzle, caught in a vulpine grin. Two triangular ears stood proudly on the creature’s head.

“It’s an amazing portrayal!” Bethi whispered as she ran a hand along the creature’s muzzle. “I’ve never seen stonework so fine that it actually looks like fur!”

“It is astounding,” Thomas admitted.

The rest of the body was mostly human in proportion and design, but entirely nude save for the strange fur-like stonework. A large bosom jutted out from the statue’s chest, sweeping downward to a narrow waist and flared hips. What Thomas found fascinating were the two digitigrade legs beneath the hips. While it was common for foxes, dogs, and the like to have legs in this manner, it was completely alien to him as a method of humanoid movement. The legs stood on two strong animal-like feet, poised upon the balls of the paws like a ballerina.

The arms of the Foxfolk were stretched out with palms up, as if asking the heavens themselves for some diving boon. And the final part of the statue was a thick, bushy tail which erupted from her heart-shaped backside and curved upward into the air.

Bethi giggled a little as she studied the statue’s proportions. “Wow, I wish I looked like that.”

Thomas stared at her.

“I meant the proportions, Tom.” She rolled her eyes. “I’ll pass on the fox bits. I’m sure you’d love it too.”

Thomas didn’t answer, which only made Bethi’s smirk wider.

“It’s amazing how well preserved this is,” she muttered as she walked around the statue. “According to the journals, the settlement was abandoned almost five hundred years ago. Yet this looks like it was crafted yesterday!”

He flashed the light over behind the Fox and gasped. Bethi turned to join him.

A thick wall nearly thirty feet high stood behind the Foxfolk statue, dimly illuminated by the red rays of sunlight streaming from the leaves above. Large boulders were stacked upon each other and mortared together with mud. Though it looked crude, Thomas guessed that the wall was heavily reinforced and quite strong.

A dark teardrop shaped entrance lay directly before them, beckoning them inside. In front of the hole itself, metal struts and pieces lay strewn about, the remnants of an ancient gateway.

“The Wall of the Beloved?” Bethi asked.

“It has to be. It fits the descriptions perfectly.”

“Then the Chamber of Red…”

“Is inside there.”

The husband and wife looked at each other, then as one, stepped away from the statue of the Fox and passed through the wall.

Neither noticed the eyes of the statue blink.