Lisa Brackman - Year of the Tiger

So where’s Cinderfox?

Finally, at the back, I see a male figure, hair and beard a dark, deep red, slanted green eyes. He does have a sort of foxy look about him. I approach.

‘Hail,’ I type.

Nothing.

I take a few steps closer.

‘Hail,’ I try again.

His name appears over his russet head: ‘Cinderfox, Son of the Boundless.’

‘Greetings, Little Mountain Tiger. Glad you accept my invitation.’

I sit.

‘Tea?’

‘Thank you.’

After a moment or two, an animated serving girl appears, bearing a tray with a teapot and two cups.

Obviously, Cinderfox has way more pull in this game than I do.

‘Jasmine? Dragon Well? Oolong?’

‘Dragon Well,’ I type.

Of course, the whole thing is ridiculous. I’m going to sit here and drink imaginary tea with a cartoon character?

The serving girl pours. We drink.

‘Dragon Well is good choice,’ Cinderfox types. ‘You gain wisdom and stamina from this.’

I check out my character inventory. My wisdom and stamina have increased by five points each.

‘Why did you invite me?’ I type.

‘I think we should keep our business private. Now that you found me.’

Just like that, a bamboo screen surrounds our little table.

The chat window has changed colors. The banner now reads ‘Private Chat.’

‘I make us anonymous,’ Cinderfox types.

‘Cool.’

‘Have more tea.’

If I had the ability, Little Mountain Tiger would be squirming in her seat about now. I really don’t feel like wasting more time drinking virtual tea, regardless of what it does to my wisdom score.

But I go along with it. This isn’t my game.

‘Okay, Cinderfox,’ I type. ‘What is this quest?’

‘Maybe this up to you.’

‘Don’t know what you mean.’

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