Need help publishing a book
Hello! My name is Lucas, I’m 15, and I’m an aspiring writer. I am currently working on a book called “Foxlin”. Foxlin is the story of a fox who is elected Chosen One by the elder foxes of his village, and is even named after it. In this village male cubs are trained since birth to become what’s called a Gem Hunter. A Gem Hunter’s job is to be sent off for however long he can, to find the universe gems. Those Gem Hunters who have failed in the past, are now trainers for the next generation. What are these gems they are looking for? And why are they so important? Well, these foxes aren’t the only one with a village. Every single animal has a village, but is separated from the animals from the outside world, which is where the humans reside. Animals nor humans know anything about these villages, and how they hold the fate of existence in their paws. Each village has the same dynamic as the Foxlin village. Males are trained by Gem Hunters from birth and a Chosen one is elected. Yet this still doesn’t answer the part about the gems. Well, each village also has the Council of Elders, the oldest animals and the leaders of the villages. They are the ones which determine who is the Chosen One. Whenever a Chosen One is elected, he is given a tour of the halls of the council by the Chief Elder, where different objects and pictures symbolize the history of the village, as the elder tells him the history behind them. Eventually, the Chief Elder leads the Chosen One to a wall where 12 rock shaped holes are etched into it. The Elder tells him how there is 12 gems for each village, and that there is an ancient evil out to destroy the gems. If all the villages find the gems and put them in their rightful place, then universal peace will be attained. And whatever this ancient evil is, It doesn’t want that. This story focuses on one animal, one village, and one quest. And the reason is is because this fox’s story is the most unique above all the others. Here is some of what I’ve written so far:


By: Lucas Smith

He lay curled up in a ball beside a small bed of roses, the knapsack on his chest moving up and down with the rhythm of his breathing. It contained many things despite its small size. A map, food rations, a candle, several charms his mother had made for him when he was a cub, a claw glove (A weapon specifically made for gem hunters.), and a glowing emerald crystal. He had obtained it during a lengthy dispute with a mole who, while trying to get it from him, continuously shouted: “It's life or death for a prize like this fox!”

The dispute ended in a death, as he had anticipated.

Hours passed as Foxlin slept. He dreamt of his mother and his old friends, and especially the day he was sent off on this quest by the elder foxes, as they had called themselves, to seek out 12 gems, which they claimed were the key to universal peace, and that there is an ancient evil which seeks to destroy them, thus attaining universal control. Ever since he was a cub, the village looked at him as “The Chosen One”, the great warrior among all of the gem hunters. Male cubs start training at a young age, tasked with finding hidden rocks in what Foxlin and his friends called “The Scarlet Field.” Trainers which had been retired gem hunters, hid the rocks and made sure every task was at its most difficult. But, as the village and the elders had foreseen, Foxlin had proved worthy, and had found the rocks faster than any gem hunter had ever done.

Thus, his training became more and more challenging, and he continued to prove to the trainers and the elder foxes that he was indeed The Chosen One. After those days, his training had been complete, and he had been sent off to fulfill an ancient prophecy, and ultimately save the universe itself.

As the sun rose over the horizon, Foxlin awoke from his slumber. He had dreamt most of the night; dreams of his mother, friends, and the life he had lived back home. Those days were behind him now, buried beneath miles and miles of treacherous land, forgotten like tears in the rain, but remembered like the pain of a suffering man. “I’ll miss you sweetie. Please, stay safe.” Tears now, lots of them. “Oh Foxlin, why'd it have to be you? Why not one of the other boys, or one of those goddamned trainers? Why my boy? Why…?” 

The voice of his mother continued to taunt him as he awoke.

“I’ll be ok mama. Please, you're scaring the cubs.” He had said to her. But nothing could have reassured her. Even when Foxlin had been cast off, his mother stood there amongst the elders and some of the villagers with grave sorrow on her face. It was too much for Foxlin, so he had looked away. It wasn't long until his mother had fallen onto the ground weeping, a sound so unsettling to his ears, that he wanted so bad to just turn around and run to her, to tell her that everything alright. But he knew that was not true, that nothing was alright, that he didn't have a choice of whether to turn around or keep going. Pain struck him like a lightning bolt, and he found himself unable to get the distant cries of his mother out of his head. That had happened years ago. And now here he was, dreaming about and fighting those painful memories.

In a swift motion, he flung himself onto all fours, the knapsack hurtling over to his other side. Limping, he found his way out of the garden and back onto the path of which the map stated to go.

“Your skills are beyond anything I and the council have ever seen! Such courage and strength in someone so young; a rare thing among the village. Please, show us more, we’d be delighted.”

Foxlin shook his head when that voice ever came into his head. A voice of one of the elders, but of which one he did not know. Nor were their names of any significance to him. But that voice, that deep, hoarse voice haunted him as much as his mother’s did, and he didn't know why. There was something almost...Sinister about it. Or maybe it was just the voice of a fox whose days are numbered and whose body is basically a fragile vase on the edge of a table, its demise unpredictable and possible whenever.

 That's exactly what he was, just an old fox. Still, the voice continued on, speaking things which foxlin couldn't even recall, and that made the voice even more bothering.

‘That's all my mind is now, huh? Just voices and memories.’

Hearing him say that to himself caused pressure to build in his chest and throat. A feeling of hopelessness engulfed him, and for the first time in many years, tears ran down his face.