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Sandy pushed a branch out of his way, it lodged in place and with a muttered curse the pangolin pushed harder. The bark cracked, the living flesh of the plant beneath split apart into long, fibrous strings, then the whole thing snapped. Grunting in satisfaction that the obstruction was out of his way, Sandy tossed the branch and then started whipping it from side to side like a sword.

The sturdy wood smashed through the bushes, crushing shrubs, bending shoots and forcing leaves out of his way. This kept the creepers and vines away from his designer jeans and baggy hoodie, but there wasn't much he could do about the mud coating the edges of his new trainers. The pangolin cleared a gap through a hefty bush with the branch and clambered through into a small clearing. Looking around, the pangolin grunted in dissatisfaction at the sight before him. A vine draped circle of trees, dimly lit moss draped ground sloping down to a line of rocks that hemmed in a wandering stream.

"Uuuuugh, more woods. Manny, this sucks," Sandy called back to his companion, "There isn't anything aroundhere but trees, trees, and more fucking trees."

His friend slid through the hole in the bush, his long, slender body weaving through to stand upright. His bare paws were mostly covered by the baggy overlapping hems of his trousers, t-shirt hanging down almost to his knees, artfully ripped around the bottom but otherwise covering the weasel's long torso. His lop ears just about reached his shoulders, peeking out from beneath the cheaply-dyed maroon hair and clashing with the natural light brown fur that covered the rest of his body. Looking around, Manny shook his head and shrugged his shoulders disinterestedly at Sandy's whining and dropped the bag he was carrying which clinked.

"Of course there's just fuckin' trees here, man, that's why we came here, this place is perfect." He moved to sit on a rock then paused, crinkling up his muzzle at the moss covering it before grabbing a smaller rock nearby to scrape off the majority, sitting down when he was satisfied. The weasel-bun hybrid reached over and pulled the bag to lay between his feet and Sandy moved closer, lured in by the clinking noises.

"I got us some good stuff, Sands," he pulled out a pair of bottles of very expensive looking ale and grinned, "Proper booze, just like I promised."

"Scooooooore," Sandy grabbed a bottle, then used one of his triangular scales as a bottle opener to pop the lid off, aiming the bottle cap into the stream with a grin. "How did you get your paws on these, anyway?"

"I stopped by that little off licence down the bottom of Clerk Way. No cameras, and it was easy enough to toss a bunch of stuff in my bag while "browsing" the shelves," the bunzel grinned as he twisted the cap open on his bottle. "Key is just make sure to actually buy something, y'know, then they don't suspect a thing."

"Nice," Sandy took a swig of his bottle, and then sprawled on the ground and tilted the bottle back to gulp down several mouthfuls. Chugging the rest of the bottle, the pangolin smirked up at his friend. "I brought the good stuff too."

Sandy pulled out a packet from inside his hoodie and started unpacking his kit, a pungent odor filling the air. Manny grinned in delight and watched eagerly as Sandy rolled up a pair of thick spliffs, the pangolin's paws deftly working the paper. The weasel bun pulled two more bottles from the bag and leaned over, using the thick triangular scales on Sandy's long, spiked tail to pop the tops off.

"You are such a useful bottle opener," Manny laughed and then hefted his empty bottle, "Bet a BJ I can throw this further then you can."

"Deal!" Sandy tucked a spliff into the corner of his mouth and grabbed his own bottle. He emptied out the dregs and hefted it, pointing at a clump of rocks on the other side of the clearing with his other paw. "There... whoever hits highest."

"Go!" Manny shouted and the pair of them hurled their bottles as hard as they could. Sandy cheered as his smashed into the top of the rocks and shattered into a shower of glass shards, while Manny's thumped into the grass just short of them.

"First blow job is mine," Sandy crowed, fumbling with the lighter to get the spliff going.

"Fuck that," Manny growled as he snatched up the other spliff and held it out to the flame, "Best of three, winner gets to fuck the loser."

"You're on, hope you don't mind leaking pangolin cum out your ass on the hike back," Sandy laughed and took a big drag on his spliff before gesturing with his bottle. "Better empty these then, shouldn't we?"

"Yeah," Manny took a long toke of his joint, then holding his spliff off to one side started to his bottle of ale. The weasel bun just tilted his head back and relaxed his throat, the ale glugging and gurgling down his throat as he poured it straight into his gullet.

"Haaaah yeah," Sandy laughed and took a long pull from his bottle before following in Manny's wake, not wishing to be outdone.

"That branch!" Manny shouted and hurled his bottle overhead, it sailed through the autumn leaves and crashed into the trunk, another shower of glass in all directions.

"Hah, lame." Sandy stood up and grabbed the branch he'd torn off a tree earlier. Spliff glowing softly as he took a long drag on it, the pangolin hefted the bottle then tossed it in the air and brought the branch around. The bottle went clack and sailed through the air crashing through the treetops to shatter against a branch... two trees over from the one he was aiming at.

"Well, fuck," Sandy grumped and Manny laughed loudly and blew out a stream of smoke with a smirk.

"Smooth move, Babe Ruth. That's one each, " the weasel-bun stood up and held out two more bottles, "We probably shouldn't chug these though..."

Sandy looked at the bottles on offer and his grin widened as he took one. "Fuck me, how did you steal these?"

"Didn't you hear me earlier? Your best friend is a fuckin' genius, you tosser," he used one claw to yank the cork out of the deep, dark brown bottle and took a long whiff of the alcohol inside.

"Dark ale, this stuff is," Sandy licked his lips and took a pull, then sighed as the bitter brew washed over his taste buds. He flopped down on the grass again and stared up at the canopy. "Ah, fuck, this is the good life... we should do this more often."

"Fuck yeah, mate," the weasel-bun grinned. "This place is a beaut. No adults or shitheels to interrupt our fun, and lots of the good stuff to help 'commune with nature,' if you catch my drift." The weasel took a long toke of his spliff and then blew the smoke out of both nostrils, "Fuuuuck, man... this is the good shit. Where did you get it from?"

"Dealer down on the docks," Sandy rolled onto one side and smirked up at his friend, "He sells this stuff, costs a bundle but I did a few jobs for him so he gave me packet instead of cash."

"Oh?" Manny's lop ears twitched and he leant forward, "What sort of jobs..."

"Just... stuff," Sandy waved a hand, "Standing watch, keeping an eye out on his usual hangout where he does business."

"Ah," Manny took another pull, "Think he needs extra hands? I could do with some extra work."

"Dunno, ask him. Maybe you could let him borrow that sweet little ass of yours," Sandy teased, then rolled onto his back and tucked the bottle between his lips, starting to gulp down the thick rich beer. Some of it leaked down on either side of his smooth, brown muzzle, but most of it vanished down his throat. Pulling the empty bottle out of his muzzle, Sandy let out a crass belch and grinned, the mix of alcohol and weed starting to hit him in full force. Stretching his flexible body, the pangolin rolled up into a sitting position and grinned.

"So this one is for the victory," he glanced at Manny who was looking mostly zoned out, his green eyes glazed over, his dark ale hardly touched, "Y... Your arsh is mine."

"Cool, man," Manny breathed and watched, his eyes following Sandy's hand as he hefted the bottle by the neck and looked around the clearing. "The stream," the pangolin declared as he rolled onto his knees and took aim. "See who can get it the furthest."

With a grunt the bottle flew, spinning through the air and then suddenly snapped to a halt as a hand darted out and caught it. Sandy blinked in surprise and stared dumbly at the hare standing just upstream. Manny went woah but this hare looked pissed as anything and the pangolin wasn't entirely sure how to react. He also looked really weird, his body was coloured in a variety of orange shades and his dreadlocks matched. The tangle of waist length hair was twisted into gorgeous locks that faded through all the shades of the autumn forest.

"I trust you boys have been having fun?" the hare hissed as he started to approach, dressed in just a pair of shorts Sandy nodded in appreciation at the lovely sight of their body.

"Sure have been, man," he held out his spliff, "You looked pissed, bro. Want a puff? This'll calm you the fuck down, guaranteed."

Shaking his head the hare stopped about five metres away and looked around the clearing. His eyes seemed to touch on every piece of damage they had done. The moss scraped off the rocks, shards of glass everywhere, and the branch still lying at the base of the bush he had hacked his way through.

"I will not have a puff, nor will I calm down, you... you cretin," the hare hissed between clenched teeth. "Just what the fuck do you think you are doing?"

"We're enjoying ourselves, man, the fuck does it look like?" Manny huffed from his seat, "It's not a fucking crime to have a drink and a smoke in the woods, don't be a fuckin' buzzkill."

"It is in these woods," the hare seethed, his fur standing on end and his entire body shaking with rage.. "You two clearly need a sharp lesson in the consequences of trespassing."

"Hey now," Sandy growled and leant down to pick up the branch, "Fuck you, mate. There's two of us and one of you, so jog on or we might just decide to get rough with you."

"Oh, really, now?" the hare looked from one of them to the other, clearly unimpressed. "Going to gang up on me, are we?"

"Yeah!" Manny clambered unsteadily up to his feet, pointedly tossing the roach from his joint into the grass. "I think we just solved the problem of who gets whose arse Sandy, I think this bunny but just volunteered."

The hare threw his head back and laughed derisively, dreadlocks swaying back and forth for a moment he lost himself in the mirth of the moment. Sandy started to feel a bit of nervousness piercing the alcohol-and-THC fog clouding his brain, but Manny was clearly too far gone to realize that this was not how an outnumbered opponent should be acting. The weasel bun moved forward, hefting his bottle by the neck like a club, and started to approach the orange hare.

Suddenly the lapine's head snapped back down and his jaw snapped shut, his deep green eyes staring daggers at the rabbit hybrid. He sneered in contempt, and Manny started to realize that he may have made a mistake. "What exactly makes you think I came alone, you little shit?"

The bushes to Sandy's right rustled, and something shot out of them. The pangolin turned in time to see a streak of tawny, spotted fur leaping at Manny. His friend cried out as the hyena slammed into him in a shoulder tackle, and with a splash the weasel-bun was on his back in the stream, pinned underneath the hyena.

"What the fu-- Sandy, help!" Manny cried out, and then screamed as the beast dug its claws into his arms and raked his legs with its back legs. Sandy grabbed the branch and tried to charge, but in his drunken haze it was more of a stagger, and the hare darted towards him like lightning and kicked him in the side of the knees, sending him sprawling onto the grass. A heavy foot shoved down on the back of his neck, and the pangolin let out a pained wheeze as his windpipe was half crushed against a rock.

"Watch," he hissed, and Sandy glanced at the river and stopped struggling as he saw what was happening to Manny.

The bunsel was struggling in the low water of the stream, screaming in terror as the hulking form of the oddly smooth hyena clawed at him. The gashes opening up in his friend's fur weren't oozing blood, but a strange brown liquid that matched the colour of Manny's fur. Turning his head, one of his lop ears a shredded stump, the hybrid stared at Sandy, eyes pleading and full of terror, the happy haze of the a stoned and drunk delinquent snuffed out by the agony of the hyena's savagery.

"Sandy... h-hel--"

Manny's desperate plea was cut off by a scream that trailed off into a wet, gurgling noise, as the hyena beast casually closed its jaws around his friend's throat, clamped down, and pulled. There was a sickening squelch, and brown liquid splattered everywhere as Manny's body flopped bonelessly. Sandy was sobbing in terror and grief,, struggling fruitlessly beneath the booted foot of his captor, reduced to a squeaking, sobbing mess as he watched his friend's murder.

In the back of his mind Sandy knew something was wrong, but in his current state he was too scared to do more than babble and sob, much less register what was happening. Manny's corpse was flopping around as if his skeleton was missing, the hyena thrashing its head back and forth and worrying Manny's neck like a dog with a new chew toy. His limbs and torso twisted and quivered like a weasel-bun sack filled with Jell-O, the gashes along his body splitting open further. Fur washing away as the thickly oozing not-blood bubbled up out of his body. It should have been washed away by the stream, but instead it gathered and oozed around the Hyena's feet as he lifted his head, his jaws tinged with Manny-colored ooze. Amber eyes stared into Sandy's and bared teeth snarled at him, and he whimpered, unable to look away.

A gurgling, bubbling glop of sticky brown liquid bubbled up out of Manny's corpse, the main tear along the length of his torso splitting open wider. The thick, oily liquid gushed out in a bubbling rush that buried the tattered scraps that were the remnants of his hide. The gaping hole where his throat should have been burst open, and the bunsel made one final gurgling noise. Sandy couldn't tell if it was a scream, a death rattle, or just liquid moving, but he was in no state to ponder the question. He just stared dumbly as liquid gushed out of his friend's ears and nose, the pangolin's eyes wide as dinner plates and his face streaked with silent tears. Manny's eyes swelled, filling like balloons before bursting open like an overfilled garbage bag, more sludge pouring out and burying the tattered remains of his head.

The gurgling, glooping liquid continued to ooze and circle around the hyena beast's paws. The puddle of goop rose up into a gelatinous, oozing mass that reached up to the creature's barrel-like torso. Staring in grim satisfaction, the hare pulled his foot away from Sandy's neck, finally allowing the traumatized teenager a chance to suck down a desperately needed breath. The pangolin scrambled sideways on all fours, pushed himself up off the ground and bolted for the trees, screaming and gibbering in panic.

He got all of three steps before his feet seemed to stick to the floor, and the pangolin pitched forwards. Still dazed and slowed by the inebriating effects of the drugs he'd been enjoying what seemed like an eternity ago, he barely managed to catch himself before he smacked his long snout into the ground. Pushing himself up, Sandy tugged at his feet and glanced back as they refused to move. They pulled an inch, maybe two off the ground but then something yanked them back forcefully.

Whimpering slightly, Sandy saw that a long, thick tendril of the weird beige gunk that Manny had melted into was now pooled about his feet. It was thick, sticky, and anchored him in place, leaving him utterly at the mercy of the hare. Struggling to his feet, Sandy wobbled back and forth as he continued to try and pull his feet free. The tacky gunk holding him down grew thicker and thicker as more of the liquid oozed over from the stream and pooled around him.

Twisting his body so he could look behind him, Sandy's vision was filled by the hare's a wicked smirk. Still struggling to turn, Sandy reached out to them imploringly, "Please... s-stop--let--let me go... I swear I won't do this again. I swear to fuckin' God, mate, I'm so fuckin' sorry, I've learned my lesson, I swear..."

The hare said nothing, just smiled wider and raised one hand and waved farewell. As if on command, the thick gelatinous goop surged up Sandy's legs, clinging to his skin and scales and climbing higher, a wave of cold racing up his feet. Screaming in terror, Sandy tried to twist back around but the liquid gripped his body so tightly he couldn't even breath, much less turn around. The ooze surged up his stomach, sliding over and under his clothes, gumming up the gaps between the large armour plates down his back. Sandy babbled in terror as he clawed and thrashed about, desperately trying to find something he could grab on to, something that could help him pull himself out of the weird, encapsulating gunk that had once been his best friend.

The liquid surged up the back of his neck, twisting across his shoulders. It clamped around his torso, squeezed his muscles and crept inexorably up his neck. Tilting his head back Sandy tried to let out one final scream, but the pressure around his torso and throat stole away his breath, the only noise escaping his mouth a pathetic wheeze. The gunk smothered Sandy's muzzle, and he closed his eyes as it oozed up across his smooth pangolin skull. It felt thick and sticky, pressing down on his body and invading his open mouth as he reached desperately into the air, fingers twitching, clawing at the empty sky. The gunk slithered up his arms, entombing him to the wrists then casually oozed over his hand and between his fingers, a tendril of ooze surging down his throat and forcing it wide open as it filled his stomach and intestines. Very soon every inch of him--both inside and out--was coated with ooze, and with a muffled scream the pangolin felt the goop starting to really squeeze him.

Sandy wanted to shriek, to scream, to flail, to run, to curl up and die. It hurt, oh God it hurt so much as the pressure increased, the ooze squashing his body from all sides, the tendril filling his insides expanding outward and adding to the pressure. The gunk covering him and invading him robbed him of the ability to even whimper much less scream, the ooze holding him tight, restricting him in every way possible. As the agony reached higher and higher and Sandy was ready to pass out from the pain and the lack of oxygen, the pressure suddenly passed a point. Sandy felt something inside him give in, and then with a sickening squelch his body was liquified by the pressure and sloshed out across the cavity left where his body had been moments before.

Suddenly, the pain vanished. Where there had been cold, Sandy now only felt delightful warmth. Where there had been cloying stickiness and pressure, there was now only a pleasant, silky-smooth embrace like a fine silk robe. His thoughts seemed to expand out as the liquid he had become rushed to fill the stretching, twisting column. He could feel his arms, feel each finger starting to branch and twist and flex as his body turned and twisted and stretched higher. After the agony of the past few seconds, Sandy felt a strange sort of bliss. Dancing on the edge of his awareness was another presence, terrified, confused thoughts sliding around and merging with his own.

Sandy tried to reach out and comfort the other presence, but his mental probe caused the other presence to recoil, and the pair of them tried to separate. The gunk they were existing in twisted and spread, trying to pull apart, but some other force forced them back together. Another pair of arms that were not his own reached out of the goo, stretching up parallel to his own, fingers spreading, stretching, groping for freedom. Suddenly something felt wrong. Sandy could feel their body changing, those hands splitting like his into hundreds of different branches. As the bliss gave way to horror as he realized what was happening to him, the gooey, thick brown liquid momentarily pressed out, forming the pangolin's face, his expression frozen into an endless scream.

Before he could escape the other force pulled him back down. For a second he was dimly aware of Manny's head next to his, struggling to break free of the slime they had become. But the slime kept its hold on them, claiming them and pulling their faces back down as it started to harden. Their toes were questing through the earth, burying deep as wriggling, squirming, teasing, sliding roots, questing for water and nutrients. Their legs merged into a slender, twisted trunk, their torsos forming into the same smooth bark, covering them in thick, overlapping chips that resembled a pangolin's scales. Sandy would have whimpered if he could, but still he had no means to make sound, the face that had half pressed out of the putty like liquid he had been crushed into was frozen in place.

Manny was there, alongside him. It was now impossible to escape his thoughts, and their memories, desires, needs mingled, mixed, their consciousness merging into one another until it was hard to tell where Manny stopped and Sandy began. Thinking was harder, their combined thoughts slowing. Their bodies continued to solidify, until there was just wood, and water and the tough outer layer of bark. Beyond Manny's and Sandy's fading thoughts laid another presence, a melange of whispering words, mingling sleepy, quiet voices already slithering out to embrace and twine about them. Hands frozen in the air above them, fingers as twigs, four stiff, bark coated branches. It was so, so hard to stay aware, in a way Sandy... Manny... Mandy... Sanmy... they could feel the clearing. They could feel the grass and the stream and the hare standing before their stiffening form, but couldn't directly see.

It was growing so hard to think, to stay awake. The ground was chilly, the air had a tang to it, their thoughts were being pulled down to sleep. All the while those soft, whispering thoughts were reaching out to them, promising to take away their worries, their fears, starting to draw them in. As Sandy fell towards slumber, he realized that he would not be able to resist joining those whispering chorus of the forest. They were stuck, tall and young, rooted deep and twisted branches touched by the wind, just another part of the forest.

-0-

Perched on his rock, Quinten watched the new sapling cease twisting and turning. Now the only movement was the faint shifting and rustling of the twigs on its upper branches. Of the pangolin and weasel-bun, there was no trace... though if Quin looked at the tree at just the right angle, and the sunlight hit the right spot, Quin could barely make out a pair of faces in the knobbly, gnarled and twisted knots just below where four branches emerged from the trunk, locked in an eternal shriek of horror... but that was the only hint. To anyone else, it was all bark and tree waiting for the spring.

Standing up, Quin stroked a hand along Shy's head as the living paint hyena stepped up next to him. It always felt nice to add a new life to his forest, and these two boys had centuries ahead of them to grow and learn to appreciate nature. Patting the tree gently in farewell, the hare turned to look at the underbrush and shook his head.

"Kyy, I told you to go home." Shaking his head, he pointed at the ground in front of him. "Come over here, chee."

The shrubs rustled, and the cheetah stumbled out of his hiding place, eyes wide and a finger pointing at the new sapling, "You... you... they were... you killed them!"

Shaking his head the hare placed a hand fondly on the tree, "Oh, pish. They're not dead, you silly cat. They are both right here... growing, getting ready to sleep for the winter."

"But..." Kyy shook his head and backed up a step as if about to flee, "You... I mean... how!"

"What, you think it's all sunshine and rainbows being the Guardian of the Forest? You think it's all about nature walks and running about in your skivvies?" Quinten snapped at the cheetah, staring at him with those rich green eyes, "You think I give intruders a stern telling off and send them on their way?"

"I... no, but to see that... I mean that was two young lads, and now they are a tree! " Kyy wailed, shaking his head in despair.

"Yes, that's right. They are now a tree, and will return to nature that which they took, and help heal that which they harmed." he gestured, "Nature is not kind, it never has been. At least when I turn some idiot campers hacking down branches into stoats, or add a pair of louts like these to the woods, I give them a chance to become part of the forest and give them a new purpose while I protect it."

Kyy stumbled back from Quin and tripped, sprawling out on the grass. He tried to scramble away as the hare walked toward him. Shaking his head the cheetah backed up into a rock and curled into a fetal position as the hare crouched down next to him.

Reaching out cautiously, he stroked Kyy's ears, "I told you to go home for a reason, Kyy... my life is not all glamour and looking pretty." He gestured toward the forest, "Nature is a cruel mistress... and the forest is not kind to those who trespass and disrespect it."

Kyy shuddered and retreated into himself further, his paw slapping away the hare's soothing touch. He stared towards the smooth new tree and shook his head again.

"But... that.. It... it was... horrific Quin... what you did to them!"

Quinten shook his head, "It's a lot kinder than what the forest would do to them on it's own. The forest would have been content to simply kill them and let their bodies feed the earth. I turned them into ink, organic matter and gave them purpose, crafted them a new life... one that will last for centuries to come."

"I... I guess..." Kyy looked up at the tree, chest heaving as he sucked down panicky lungfuls of air. He looked up into Quin's eyes and paused as the hares softly glowing gaze held his, the bunny's hand resting on his shoulder comfortingly. "I mean... you could say they're only getting what they deserve, aren't they?"

"For violating the forest," Quin murmured, "Yes, you could say that..." He settled down next to Kyy on the grass and smiled at the cheetah. "This is my life, Kyy. It isn't always nice, but the forest and I are linked. It doesn't leave me many options, sometimes."

"They were... being really disrespectful, weren't they...?" Kyy looked around at the clearing sadly, the glass shards, plastic, and broken branch stark reminders of just how disrespectful the pair had been of the natural environment. "They..." Kyy sighed. "They were proper shitbags, weren't they?" he conceded, leaning his head on the Hare's shoulder. Quin gently put his arm around the shaken feline, who slowly relaxed into the touch.

"Aye, that they were. Look at it this way... This is probably a far better fate for them than they would have found otherwise. " Quin glanced around and sighed, suddenly seeming to deflate as he took in the damage left by the hooligans."I should tidy this up, but first, let's get you out of here. I... think you have seen enough of the darker mysteries of the forest."

"Yeah..." Kyy glanced up at the tree and shuddered. Quin stood and smiled, offering a hand out to the seated cat. Kyy hesitated for a moment, before accepting the gesture and standing, helped to his shaky feet by the hare. Quin took the cheetah by the arm, and guided him toward the tree line, leaving the pair of former drunkards and delinquents as just another tree in the forest.