The vista was clearly a hotspot full of joy and excitement, anyone could surmise as much after hearing such exhilarated screams and joyous music. But behind this colorful spectacle sat trailers and wheeled iron cages just behind them. The place behind the circus was incredibly narrow and dark, not a single ray of light piercing their space beside the slivers of moonlight that crept over buildings. It smelled of pipe water and mud, and while the trailers looked supremely well-kept and brilliant, the old rusty cages creaked at every movement. Inside the cages were various exotic beasts: an old, resting tiger, two scrawny white dogs, and various other animals that one wouldn't normally see. But in one cage, at the very end of the link of cages, sat a fox with golden fur and brilliant emerald eyes, yet its figure was scrawny and his gaze staring fixedly at the puddles of water he could see in the moonlight. Decorative cuffs locked around his wrists, the magical creature now nothing but a pretty beast staring longingly at the pavement.
At the front of this dark, gloomy alleyway stood a rather stocky, brown man with a clean, shaved head and small, wide eyes. He leaned against the brick building with a bottle of ale in hand and smelled of urine. He was whistling an awful tune, but none of the animals stirred and rested indifferently to the familiar tune. No one would look to see these skinny, talented animals as they ran by to look at the other perform. No soul would bestow them a sympathizing glance or step foot in the dirt alleyway. It was the wistful fox and the grim, dumb beasts that rested next to him.