FSE

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Vincent flicked the tendril in a whip-like motion, spraying red amongst the snow the formed a rough semi-circle around the wounded fox.

He lowered himself to the ground, feeling something new inside of him. That warm glow of something unused in nearly a decade. "Hm." He smirked, "This feels... nostalgic." He closed his eyes, feeling all that red in his eye-lids swirl around into the back of him. "This feels..." He wasn't even noticing that he was raising his head to the sky.

The fox tried feeling the wound on its head, assessing for damage. It was bad enough that he could've even touch the areas around it, and it gushed a dark blood that flooded either side of his muzzle. He whimpered. A quiet, animal whimper.

Vincent could feel the animals pain. Deep behind his eyes, there was this red, like a blotch of blood, stuck in his lungs. He could feel it in his breath; no, he was _breathing _it. He shuddered. "Good..."

The fox's eyes widened when he noticed the blood creeping towards him, like a possessed, crimson rope. Growing in length from the red stains in the snow that surrounded him. They were stretching, slithering along the snow.

"good..."

One tapped the fox's ankle and he shrieked. A wet, wrapping sensation. He tried to back away but stumbled into the other bloody ropes behind him, which slowly coiled around his wrists. He gave a pull... and although his right arm snapped away from the blood, his left was being held tightly in place. It seemed to reduce its slack with each of his desperate attempts to struggle.

In a few slow seconds of shrieking, the fox was completely pinned, limb by limb against the snowy flatness of the park ground. His back felt numb with this cold. His head felt like a big, throbbing drum. A cracked drum, splintered in its wood. And the blood gushing from his head... well, it had a life of its own now... and in that life it pinned Rev's head into the ground just the same as the rest of him.

The wolf, black as night in the midst of the blizzard, gave an aroused shudder. "Ah," He chuckled, and opened his eyes. "Haven't done that in ages... oh. Heh," He wheezed a laugh, a real wheeze, a classic smoker's howl. "silly me. Almost forgot something..."

The fox watched - from the very bottom of its eyes - in horror as Vincent's eyes rolled back into his skull, and glowing red blood began to drip from them like the tear's of glow sticks. But the didn't drip down; in fact, they refused to acknowledge gravity at all. For the tear's, the fox was their gravity. They ran a crimson course along the wolf's muzzle, a raceway of pure evil, a trek of pure demonic fun.

It was when the blood pulled away from the muzzle that the fox realised just how fucked he was. It branched away and held an otherwise solid shape, like a Timelapse of red tree-branches that grew away from the devil's face, instead of leaves they sprouted terror. And the wolf opened his mouth: a mouthful of blood that poured out into the thickest branches of them all... and just like that there was a sudden, ominous structure that was growing its way towards him.

The fox struggled, but the drumming pain was holding him down more than the bloody ropes were. _Da-dum... da-dum... _each heartbeat was a beat on that drum of pain, and every member of the marching band was banging it with their sticks.

But even that didn't seem to be the height of his problems: Vincent was making such a guttural, low-pitched snarl that the fox was sure he wasn't even aware of it. No living thing could consciously crack its jaw open to such a horrific angle and let out that noise (most furs would've stopped a conversation at a voice crack), let alone spew a face-full of blood that now stood only inches away from Rev's face.

Rev closed his eyes, feeling the blood caress the side's of fur, almost playing with his burnt fur. Pulling themselves along the length of his face... sliding their cold, leathery forms against his eyelids. He gritted his teeth, trying not to squirm... trying not to panic. But then, in a jolt of synchronised movement, they dug into his skin like fishhooks.

He screamed, realising that they were beginning to pull, to lift him off the ground. Pulling him face-first towards the demon's mouth, the wolf's anticipation showing in the saliva that dripped from his teeth like the ice of icicles.

And god it was all so cold... and the fox knew he was completely paralysed, being reeled into the harpoon that was the demon's throat, his limbs bound by blood. His own blood, and now he was suspended in the air in his final trapize act. Get your tickets now! Furs, and gentle-furs, I present to you, the one, the only, the greatest of the all: the fox o' many burns! Will we beat this fleshy vice? Your cheers will decide, and make sure you clap loud, kids! His life hangs on the line!

All he could do was open his eyes, and he saw Vincent's throat down that tunnel of red horror, rippling from the vibrations of that horrible, horrible snarling.

Vincent felt saliva stain the collar of his jacket. He was about to eat a monster, starting with a big juicy bite to the head. Already cracked like a readied coconut. But what would Kevin say to this? Nothing. That's what he'd say. Absolutely fucking nothing. He's not here, and now he never will be. How's that Kevin? I'm free without you. I'm back to my primal ways, and I'm never holding back again! How's that feel Kevin? How does it fucking feel?

And then the fox said a very unique thing, made even more unique sheerly because it actually _said _something. "Please..."

For a second, the pulling halted. Vincent's ears twitched.

The fox struggled with words, an animal learning speech in lungs that would've allow for it. "Please Vince... please," it choked on the 'st' noice, and rehearsed a few times before it was legible. "please st... stop..."

All of the blood fell down to the snow in splash of liquid - exactly as it should act - and the fox fell down with it. Not landing with a 'thud' so much as a wetter, sloshier noise. The blood and the snow were a real cocktail of freeing slush.

"Stop." The fox begged with a face full of ground.

Vincent was suddenly back to normal, his back full of sweaty fur and not tendrils, his eyes that normal, semi-believable red as opposed to pure balls of liquid flame.

But what the furs close to him would find irregular was the compassion on his face. The pure look of concern that could hold a muzzle ajar. "Rust! Holy shit!" And recognition, that was there too, "Buddy, hey, talk to me."

The fox was dozing, eyes drooping. Vincent dropped down to his knees and scooped his head into his arms, cradling it with a paw's worth of pressure on the gushing wound.

"Stay awake, man. Hey!" He clicked his paw in front of the fox's eyes. The eyelids barely twitched. "Don't fucking die on me man. Oh, fuck..." Then there was this guilt that hit Vincent like a hammer to the chest. "Oh fuck, I didn't know... oh Jesus I didn't know..."

The fox's moist breath was delicate on Vincent's wrists. "well..." The fox croaked, "the black fur doesn't help."

A smile shot through Vincent's face and he put more pressure on the wound, "no, no it doesn't." He chuckled, and Rust gave a weak attempt of his own.

"I..." Rust was trying to say, but his tongue lolled uselessly around his mouth.

"Save your breath, Rusty," Vincent lay the top of Rust's torso against his lap, fighting the cold with his own sheer body-warmth.

The fox coughed. "I..."

Vincent realised that he was actually beginning to tear up. Empathy? Ha! doesn't sound like me... but there was a thought that was touching Vincent's mind. "Holy shit is Fetch going to be happy that you're back. He mourned you, man..." He stroked the side of Rust's shoulder to comfort him, amazed from how charred the fur felt. Almost a different texture, bristly like a dish-scrubber. "We all did..."

"Vin..." Another cough, and Rust's breathing picked up in pace. "V-Vince... I... I'm so..." The fox's green eyes looked up into Vincent's. It was heartbreaking.

"What, man?" Vincent's eyebrows furrowed.

"I'm so sorry." Said the fox.

And before Vincent could ask, what Rust could _possibly _be sorry about; the fox gave him that answer:

His face twisted, and he jerked his head back in a sudden flurry of pain. He buckled his burnt legs against the snow, kicking frantic piles as if he were forming a spastic snow'angel.

And his eyes darted around, looking at the world. Seeing things a different way. Changing in the worst possible ways... and as sudden as a second of change, he was Rev again. He snarled, flinging open his jaw's worth of black teeth and snapping his fangs into the flesh of Vincent's arm.

The wolf cried out in pain, and it was a confused, saddened pain. The fox snarled like it was rabid, shaking its head and cutting deeper into flesh, making Vince nearly scream. But the wolf was scared to hurt hurt his old friend, so Vincent started lightly batting the fox on the neck, trying to discourage him.

But the blood was squirting onto the snow, and the fox's full teeth were submerged amongst the veins and meat on the wolf's wrist. And Vincent knew that he had to get this thing off. So his battering turned into punches, and with each blow he felt the fox's iron jaw weaken, getting tired. Getting... well, rusty.

The fox finally lifted its fangs out of its own 'good will'. And it was grinning, too, when each pearly-black slid out from their meat-craters, glistening in all colours of blood.

It scrambled off of Vincent, kicking him away like a launchpad.

And Rust... a fox, a skimmer, a friend... bounded away on all fours back into the blizzard, soon coated in all of its snowy white wrath.

Vince looked down at his forearm, the paw attached to it shaking uncontrollably. It was a horrific wound, so scary to look at he felt lightheaded. He could'n't fix this. No, it was too far gone. even with two hands and a medical kit, he would've know the slightest bit about what to do.

"Fuck..." He noticed a strange outline of black ooze deep in each of the bite marks, slowly soaking into his bloodstream. And there was nothing he could do.

His thoughts went to Kevin, and - sobbing silently to himself - he stared at the ground between his legs. As if the pain from the wound wasn't bad enough, his chest felt tight. Tightened by how much he was missing his coyote right now...

Dusk gave Fetch a playful punch on the shoulder, "You should talk to him."

Kevin had been dangling at the back of the Skimmer's since they had left the park. They had left at midday, and now the sun was fully down and that bitter night breeze searched for victim in the streets. So, given the cold, it made sense for all of Fetch, Dusk and Kevin to highjack onto Twig and Grace's plans to see a movie that night. "Can't really be 'third-wheeling', if it's the whole vehicle with extra tires." Dusk had famously said at the time.

And the coyote had been quiet in all that time. Loitering outside of anything sociable. Noticeably quiet, like that loud silence a saddened person shares when they're in need of a pep talk. But Kevin trying to be noticed in that way: If there was something funny being said, he'd offer just enough of his own input to be part of it. But not a word over. Just that amount for the Skimmer's not to think: 'oh, Kevin's been quiet for a while now, how is he?'.

And Dusk had shaken through this first. And if Dusk had, then you can bet your bottom dollar that Fetch would be too.

"Why me?" The German shepherd had begged in response to Dusk bringing up the whole 'lack of Vincent' situation. "I thought you two were best buddies. Two sardines in a pod."

"Two peas in a pod, hot-stuff. Come on." The dark-grey wolf was cut off by another one of Grace's laughing fits. Twig had been pulling off some real punchlines with her over at the Slushie machine, the current one being that he stuck his scaly mouth right over the dispenser and now had rainbows pouring out of his nostrils. The savannah can was laughing so hard she was almost in the range of some real, unladylike snorts.

Dusk chuckled "How cute are they... And no, I can't be the one to do it." He crossed his arms, then recrossed them because it made his chest look more puffed out; making Fetch scoff. "If you just broke up with a guy, would you really want to talk to their brother about it? What kinda closure is that shit?"

Fetch scratched his head, side-glancing at the coyote. The plan had been to go grocery shopping to pre-game on snacks for the movie (the movie of the which was a real banger, about some raccoon who gets into the real bad end of a drug business, crazy shit, hopefully there's sequels), at the moment Kevin was holding a bottle of hot sauce. Not even considering it. Just looking at it, as if it were sentimental.

"Fair enough." He said. "But what makes you figure they broke up? Could've just been a messy chat. Like the one back at the campfire."

Dusk opened his mouth for a second, then shut it, trying to find the right way to word his response. "Breakups are like a cologne to me, Fetch." Was what he settled with. "And if we've got a new 'missing Vincent' bottle, trust me, Kevin just bought the whole stock."

Fetch laughed. "Okay, fine, if you're such a wuss." He said, sticking his tongue out.

He expected a laugh out of the wolf, but Dusk just looked down, slightly red in the face.

Fetch lovingly lifted his head with a paw, 'What's up?" He cocked his head to one side.

"Nothing." Dusk mumbled, then smiled at how concerned Fetch's expression was. "Heh, you're very cute."

Fetch squinted, his attention on the elephant in the room (and no, not the one buying peanuts by the cashier). "Its the eyes, isn't it?"

Dusk's eyes, which had turned a brilliant blue since Fetch had asked him to be his boyfriend at the park, widened out of his own politeness. "No! They're really, really cool..."

Fetch stirred in the silence, "... but?"

Dusk made at first as if he wasn't going to say anything. It took a minute for him to finally give in: "They're very..." He squinted. "... blue."

Fetch's ears pricked up, "you don't like them."

"No, no," When he could've get Fetch's attention, he leant over and kissed the German Shepard - and trust me, that got Fetch's attention, and in more ways than one. "I like them, they're just very permanent."

"Permanent?"

"Totally. I mean, if you love a guy, it's tradition to just buy an engagement ring or something. Not... you know... spiritually bond onto them."

Fetch raised a brow, "You want to get engaged?"

"No!" Dusk shook his head, "Uh, I mean y-yes!" He stammered. "Well... when the time is right." was his final answer.

Fetch chuckled. "Don't worry. I'm sure they'll get back to normal sooner than you think."

"Well, what if they don't?"

The German Shepard laughed, "Then I guess you're not the amber-eyed hero anymore. You're... just a blue-eyed one." He winked. "Like me."

Dusk smirked, rolling his eyes. "Gross."

They coyote wiped something wet away from his eye, and turned away slightly so that nobody would see. But Fetch saw, and he looked back at Dusk with an expression that said: welp, I'm off to work.

"Thanks, Fetch." Dusk said quietly.

Fetch kissed him, still hooked onto that warm feeling from their previous kiss before.

Dusk nodded, "You know, you're getting really good at that."

"I learn from best." Fetch said, and he took his first steps in the direction of the despaired coyote.