by R. J. Blain
Truly alone in the woods seemed far easier to bear than cut out and left alone in a crowded room, so I ran.
Eight
I had given my word, and I would hold true to it.
The days slipped into one another while I hunted for a forest remote enough it no longer stank of humans and the civilization I no longer desired. When I found it, it was on the slopes of a mountain. Ill-maintained roads warned me people sometimes visited, a warning I disregarded. When I breathed in deep, I couldn’t smell cars nor wolves, which was good enough for me.
I picked a place in the upper peaks to den, locating a crack in the stones so deep it touched the softer soil hidden in the mountain’s heart. I filled my days expanding my den and flattening and hardening the ground with my paws. During the nights, I hunted, safe from the prying eyes of humans.
Long after I had cleared away enough space for myself, I kept digging, expanding my den until it was large enough for many instead of just one.
There would be no puppies, kits, or cubs for me, no children of any sort. My chance for that had long passed. Pieces of paper, signed or unsigned, wouldn’t change that.
I had given my word, and I would hold true to it.
Whether human or wolf, Fenerec ate a lot, and I was keenly aware I wasn’t like them in how infrequently I needed to emerge from my den to hunt. A rabbit or two sustained me for several days, and when I did venture out to fill my stomach, I took the chase far enough away from my den so the prey on my mountain would remain plentiful.
When winter came, I wouldn’t leave many tracks around my territory.
On the fringe of what I called mine, a farm skirted the forests, and the putrid stench of sheep and other livestock deadened my nose. Something about the places attracted prey, so as often as not, I hunted near the fences, avoiding the humans’ animals while eating my fill.
Time flowed by, the weather chilled, and it was on the cusp of autumn that I spotted a human in the pasture, driving what I recognized to be a four wheeler. I watched him, and after a few minutes, I realized he watched me, too.
Turning my ears back, I left, flicking the tip of my tail in annoyance over having been spotted. I remembered being human, and the unwanted memories haunted me.
I was supposed to be a human, too—if I had been born a proper human, everything would have been different. My ma and my pa wouldn’t have needed to put me in kickboxing to control my wildness. I wouldn’t have been so driven to do anything, including join the FBI.
If only I had been a little more human and a little less fox.
I left the farm in search of a new place to hunt, one that wouldn’t have reminders of what I had been and could have been. I reminded myself being alone in the woods far surpassed solitude in a crowded room.
It didn’t help.
Without a mate or skulk, I had no reason to return to my den, yet I plodded my way up to the peak along the trails to where the boulders cracked and overlapped, leaving a gap large enough for me to squeeze through.
Only my scent, paw prints, and tufts of black and white fur marked the place as mine. I dug, not because I needed the space, but for something to do, something to offer the illusion of purpose while I waited.
For what, I wasn’t sure.
When the first snow fell in the late fall, the few humans who came to my mountain left, and I was the only one brave enough—or foolish enough—to live where the rocks turned white and icy. I picked my way down the path, and the wind stabbed through my fur.
Long after I should have called for my mate, I remained silent, although my throat tightened with the need to scream, to find some company, and to create a skulk despite knowing the wild foxes wanted nothing to do with me, a predator. They were scavengers.
The wild foxes avoided my territory, and they only came close when I killed prey too large for me to eat alone.
I’d be all right as soon as I could convince myself fur and paws and the freedom of hunting the mountain forests beat standing upright and living among humans. Being alone in the woods surpassed solitude in a crowd.
When I wasn’t hunting, I retreated to my den and curled on the frozen ground, staring at where the sunlight streamed through the cracks between the stones. I wasn’t a fox, I wasn’t a human, but I belonged to neither world.
Where did I belong?
Winter encroached on the fall, and the snow deepened. I was aware of how I should have been hunting for a mate, preparing to turn my den into a place to shelter kits—or puppies. Had Jake already begun pursuing a bitch of the appropriate species?
Had enough time passed for him to believe I was truly gone?
I wanted to forget, but I couldn’t.
I hated being alone in a den meant for a skulk, for the family I couldn’t have, so I left it, padding my way down the mountain over the snow and ice, listening to the hissing wind. When I breathed in deep, the sharp bite of gasoline warned me humans had come to my mountain.
I flicked an ear back in disgust. What use did I have for humans? None.
Not anymore.
Being alone in the woods surpassed solitude in a crowd. How many times would I have to repeat it before I finally believed it and crushed the desire to belong among those who didn’t want me?
I longed to voice my distress, but I choked the cries back, as there was no one to listen.
I found the humans on the edge of my territory, not far from the farm and its plentiful sheep, and they had come as a pack with a herd of vehicles, parking them where the road ended and the forest began. I watched them from the shadows of the forest, and something about their dark clothing bothered me.
If I remembered the details, I would want what I couldn’t have even more.
Hunkering between the trunk of an old tree and the bared branches of a bush waiting for spring, I sat, I watched, and I waited. The humans searched for something while the wind whipped and the snow fell. I breathed in deep, but nothing smelled amiss, nothing that would justify their presence in my territory.
They spent a long time near their vehicles, investigating the ground, watching the road, and waiting.
More vehicles joined them, and I flicked an ear back.
Alone in the woods did surpass solitude in a crowd. There were too many humans in my woods, stinking the place up with their gasoline and other putrid odors from their cars. I remembered when I had been like them, and I hated the persistent memories.
Why couldn’t I have been born a wolf instead of a fox? If I had been a wolf, the memories of ever having been human would have been gone beyond my reach. I remembered what I had been told about the wolves who masquerade as humans.
The wildness took them and killed everything that had made them human.
No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t forget. With a low chitter and a huff, I left the humans behind, disgusted at myself for having watched them for so long.
The humans persisted, returning to my mountain every day, polluting the air with the stench of their vehicles. They left at night, but their presence frightened away the prey, requiring me to venture farther and farther from the safety of my den in search of food.
I found little, and I voiced my distress in soft cries.
Because of the humans, I would have to leave the den I had dug with my own paws, shaped and packed down through the entirety of autumn and through the winter. In the early hours before the sun rose, I descended from the peaks.
The harsh fumes of gasoline warned me the humans had come to my mountain earlier than I expected, but it wasn’t a human I found on the trail.
I hated wolves, especially the unnaturally large ones. My nose confirmed the dark animal was a male, and he wasn’t that much larger than me. If he wanted a fight, I’d fight. I bared my teeth, twisted my ears back, and ducked my head to protect my throat.
I remembered how I hadn’t been good enough for the Fenerec, how I, a fox, would never be good enough for them.
I hated wolves.
Chittering a warn
ing, I side stepped, and the male followed my every move. If he wanted a fight, I’d give it to him. I lunged, snapped my teeth at his nose, and reared up so I could bring my claws into play, claws I’d sharpened on stones while digging my den. I yanked out a tuft of his fur, startling a yip out of him.
When he recoiled, the scent of his astonishment strong in the air, I turned tail and ran through the trees. The wolf behind me howled, and others answered.
A lucky fox could outrun a wolf, and I had the advantage of knowing the terrain. I weaved my way through the trees, hit my top speed, and charged down the mountain. The wolf behind me howled again, and in his voice, I heard his frustration.
I headed for the farm and its long fences, taking advantage of the human-made trails to add distance. I hated wolves, but if they wanted my den, they were welcome to it.
It wouldn’t take me long to find another mountain and another place to call my own. My plan to relocate would have worked if the wolves hadn’t caught my scent and trail and insisted on following me.
The sun rose, and I heard the pack call behind me, and when the wind blew behind me, it carried the strong scent of wolf and spice. By noon, I slowed to a staggering walk, panting in my effort to catch my breath.
Despite running as long and fast as I could, the wolves pursued. Far beyond my normal territory, I couldn’t rely on my knowledge of the area to guide my path. The woods thinned, and I heard the distant rumble of car engines and the honk of horns.
Civilization. I bared my fangs and searched for shelter, somewhere I could defend.
All I found was a wide river, and snow and ice encrusted its shore. I dipped my paw into the water and shuddered. It wouldn’t be long until it froze over, too. Wolves slipped through the trees and cornered me. The glassy surface of the water promised drowning depths.
With my routes to escape cut off, I could fight or attempt to swim.
The water would welcome me, but it wouldn’t let me go. Once I entered its domain, I wouldn’t be leaving again. The cold certainty of it settled over me.
Panting wolves surrounded me, and they watched me with bright golden eyes. Their unnatural coats, of all colors and patterns, promised they were Fenerec, which ensured I wanted nothing to do with any of them.
I hated wolves, but I hated the ones who pretended to be men the most.
I chose the water over them.
I could fight the water or I could fight the wolves. One battle I could handle, but both at the same time spelled my defeat, especially when I had to fend off several, each one determined to sink their teeth into my fur. The river clung to me, weighed me down, and made it easier for the wolves to secure a grip on my scruff and drag me to shore.
Every step of the way, I snapped my teeth, dug my claws into the rocky bank, and jerked my body in my efforts to free myself. They held on tighter, two of them biting the back of my neck to keep me from escaping.
The rest of the pack watched me struggle until the last of my strength ebbed, and I hung in the jaws of the two wolves restraining me. I panted, staggering in order to get my paws under me.
I recognized the brindled white and gold wolf, and I bared my fangs at her approach and flattened my ears. Chittering threats wouldn’t work, not on her. Nothing would.
With no skulk and Jake having chosen a proper wolf bitch over me, I had no one to help me, so I remained silent. They had made it clear I wasn’t welcome in their pack.
Why couldn’t she and her wretched wolves leave me in peace?
She approached, breathing in my scent. I waited until she came within reach to strike, snapping my fangs over her nose. She yelped, and her cry startled the wolves holding me enough I broke free, retreating into the water. Displaying my teeth, I went belly deep into the river.
When Jake joined his mother, his fur the rich chocolate brown and gold I remembered, my chest tightened, and the ache stabbed so deep the water couldn’t numb away the pain.
Did they want the divorce papers signed so badly they had to hunt me in force? Hadn’t the slow and steady shifting of the seasons been enough to teach them I didn’t want anything to do with them anymore?
They had won. Why did they have to bother me?
When I escaped and found a new den, I would remember being alone in the woods far surpassed solitude within a crowd, unwanted and unneeded.
Then I remembered what Mellisa had said. Fenerec mated for life, and the only way he could take the bitch better suiting him was to get rid of me first. I retreated deeper until the water flowed around my throat.
Foxes couldn’t cry, not like humans could, and the sounds I had denied myself stuck in my throat. I had no skulk, and Jake had chosen another to be his mate. I had asked too much of him. My misery choked me as though I drowned despite my head remaining over the surface of the water.
Jake turned his ears back, flattening them along his skull, and watched me from the shore. Another step back led me deeper into the water.
The cold seeped into my fur. With nowhere left to go, I sat and I waited, hoping they’d leave or finish me off and be done with it. As long as they didn’t stay, as long as I didn’t have to endure their presence much longer, I didn’t care.
Either I had grown or he had shrunk, but Jake wasn’t much larger than me. He waded out into the water, ignored my bared teeth, and breathed in my scent. I snapped my teeth at his nose, but he avoided my bite, huffing his annoyance.
I stood, and the cold cramped my muscles. Tripping on the rocks hidden by the water, I submerged. Jake snagged the scruff of my neck and lifted his head, and I chittered my agitation at his interference. I stood and yanked free, snapping my teeth at him and shuffling away, staying as deep in the river as I could without submerging.
Every step hurt.
Jake followed with a huff.
Maybe if I kept walking, he would eventually understand he needed to go back to his own species and leave me alone. I fixed my gaze to where the river curved out of sight through the trees and forced one paw in front of the other, not caring where the waters led.
I walked until I couldn’t anymore, the cold and my exhaustion wearing away at me in equal measure. Time and distance did nothing to deter Jake or his pack.
Staggering to a halt, I panted to catch my breath. Whenever I tried to angle for the other shore, Jake shunted me away, refusing to allow me to go any deeper than my chest, enforcing his edict with bared teeth, low growls, and strong shoves of his shoulder.
Maybe I wasn’t much shorter than him, but I was longer in the leg and far narrower in the body, despite being broad in the chest for a fox. He outweighed me by at least fifty to a hundred pounds, and he wasn’t shy about using his bulk against me. On the shore, the pack, consisting of at least thirty wolves, kept close enough to the river to ensure I wouldn’t make it far before they stopped me.
I hated wolves, especially the ones who masqueraded as humans. Without them, I would’ve forgotten I was a fox. Without them, I would’ve died long before my ma had turned her gun on me and my pa.
Without them, everything would have been different.
I hated them, because without them, I would’ve still believed I was just another human.
Sitting in the water, I flatted my ears and refused to budge. Jake pressed his shoulder against me, but instead of rising, I toppled. The water closed over my head, and if I had had my way, I would’ve let it flood into my mouth and nose.
Jake seized my scruff and dragged me through the water towards shore. Instead of fighting, I went limp, shivering as the winter-cold air iced my fur. Once he had me on dry, snowy land, he released me, and I thumped to the ground, staring at nothing in the distance. I waited.
Jake nudged my throat with his nose, and I flinched at his touch and closed my eyes.
Why wouldn’t he either leave or finish me off? He had wanted me to stop asking him for what he couldn’t—wouldn’t—give me, and had told me if I couldn’t give it up, we were as good as through.
There was no
we anymore.
At the insistent nudge to my neck, I cracked open an eye. Jake pawed at my shoulder, and the moment he caught me watching him, he dragged his tongue over my muzzle. I lifted my foreleg and batted his head away.
I should have chittered, but I remained silent.
Pushing his head with my paw didn’t keep him away for long. He annoyed me into staggering upright, shuddering from the cold. I snapped my teeth at him, clamped my tail between my legs, and ducked my head to cover my throat.
While the wolves surrounded me, they kept their distance. Jake twisted an ear back and stared at me. I wobbled to the shore and drank the bitter cold water, keeping still in an effort to muster enough strength to either return to the river or try to break through the pack.
Waiting didn’t change anything, so I curled in a tight ball and shivered.
Some of the wolves became human, all part of Jake’s pack, and they forced a muzzle over my head and buckled it in place. A sharp, metallic scent filled my nose. Too cold and tired to fight them, I stared at the distance, silent even when they wrapped a tight collar around my throat.
By the time they got around to clipping a leash to me, the humiliation of being captured and treated no differently from a wild animal smothered me. I thought about making one last effort to escape, but I abandoned the idea. One by one, the wolves left and returned as humans, and I flinched away whenever anyone came too close, pulling on the leash in my effort to keep a distance.
Jake and his parents were among the last wolves to return as humans, and I struggled against the leash, dragging the Fenerec holding me several feet before he dug his heels in and held me in place.
“Problems?” Sebastian Thomas asked.
“No, not as long as we stay back. She doesn’t want anyone getting close to her, not even Mason.”
