Life's little miseries: prologue
It was a great moment of devastation; living within the confines of the law and obedience to the authority divested from the people, he assumed nothing could go wrong as long as he kept to himself and obeyed what was said.
Supposedly, this is the mark of citizen responsibility. However, for whatever reason, they came for him now like dogs in the night. He fretted, fell into insomnia, and could not stir up appetite long enough to be joyous and optimistic as his usual.
What was on his being was a mark; a mark left behind four years ago by a mistake he had no intention of defiling the citizenry with. It was not something he respected or liked, but because it was there, it could not be denied.
The authority was without mercy or compassion and did not give such frivolity to human error. Instead, it was hard on all and like others before, sought only a head to appease the masses and sanctify its own existence and love for power.
Now he lays still at night; wondering how to avoid all of this mess--to protect his family from the dictatorship and at the same time allow him to live the rest of his life in peace without having to worry. Trust in such power was a fools' errand, as their agenda was not aligned with justice but significant sadistic glee to hang all of those trapped in its web whether mistake or not.
The hunt had already ruined so many and the net cast out now shrunk down until the least accidental cause could give them reason to seek another victim regardless of the reason. What could he do, when awaiting the guillotine that would violate his non-purjuring neck? And indeed, what length of rope did his unintended blunder now allow them?
In the waking twilight of the night, sleep left him and his naked red fur to the questions imposed on any wrongly targeted. The stress on his heart would eventually kill him if he wasn't found first within the next ten years. But no, they would be far too eager to fling him to the absent mercy of the people and their perverted idea of justice.
All he could think to do, if there wasn't anyone up to hear his words and feel concern by his loss of spirit, was call someone up who deserved to know; to know what was on his mind and all the demented phantoms lurking in his head.
When Kal finally got to it, the voice on the other end was far from pleased to get his call so late in the night. "Yeah?" But the truth is, there was a point when Kal felt violated and betrayed; angered that the person on the phone was so irritated when it was HIS fault to begin with!
Still, he deserved to know. The wolf deserved to know that the fox's own intent of trying to deny what had happened was all a useless waste of time, and that because of the republic soon approaching, there wouldn't be an excuse--the perversion of justice would treat him the same regardless of his innocent ignorance of opening up that tomb with the strange letters that he assumed meant something else; that were put there by someone intending to do others harm like a bastard trickster.
The situation and waiting breathy presence on the other line softened his anger and hurt for a bit. Long enough for him to say what was on his mind, "The hunt of hell comes next for thee." And then he hung up, in the knowledge of a possible future betrayal, that was all he could do.