FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Mindy

I couldn't look Trace in the eye, even though I knew his great silver head was turned towards me as I drove.

"Mindy," he sighed. "Why didn't you tell him?"

After we'd left Perks--_having delivering our news to Sasha--we retreated to the warmth of my car to head back to town. Trace, the poor thing, was not the size for a Volkswagen. The hunky weimaraner looked about as comfortable as a sardine stuffed into a tin can. His hunched, bulging form was not happy, nor was it meant to be so confined. He was also upset with me. I'd forgotten to mention one thing to Sasha--it (or _he I should say) was the reason Trace and I were late to meet the fox in the first place.

I bit my lip, my ears falling back, and tightened my grip around the steering wheel. I couldn't believe I'd managed to hold myself together through the talk with Sash. My mind was so scattered and overwhelmed and disoriented by everything that was going on that it shouldn't have been surprising that I'd forgotten to tell him...But, no, I knew I hadn't forgotten. I just couldn't bring myself to ruin the happy moment we'd shared after he accepted my offer to be track captain--and risk playing football for Trace.

I swatted my turn signal and merged into the lane to my right. Trace grunted as my quick, jerky driving jostled him about. His floppy ears slapped the side of his frowning face.

From the corner of my eye, I watched him shake his head. He ran a meaty paw through his cropped, brown hair. "Mindy, you can avoid the subject all you want, but the truth of the matter is..."

I huffed. The leather of my steering wheel popped as I clenched my paws. I felt my face flush a bit. "I know, Trace!" I turned to face him for the first time since we'd gotten in the car, and his emerald eyes were wide as he watched me wearily. I took a breath and calmed myself. "I know--I should have told him, but I..." My tongue went limp as I realized I didn't really have a valid excuse for keeping the secret. Sasha would learn about it soon enough, not doubt, but...

Trace bobbed his eyebrows. "What?"

"I didn't want to scare him, alright!?"

He grunted and braced his enormous body against the little passenger seat as I whipped the car into another lane without even bothering to signal. I felt a spike of adrenaline--or anger--as I accelerated down the interstate, my flesh and fur burning hotter.

"Mindy!" Trace uttered through clenched teeth. "Slow down!"

I rolled my eyes. "I always drive like this. Relax."

"Well, unlike Sasha, you're scaring the hell out of me!" A tractor trailer blurred past and my car's peppy little engine gave a metallic roar as I stomped the gas and aimed the beetle toward our exit. Trace squealed as I shot across three lanes without so much as batting an eye. He just didn't appreciate my aggressive driving skills. "Please, for the love of God," he moaned.

"Alright, alright..." I slowed as I took the turn onto the off-ramp, but Trace didn't relax until I'd come to a full stop at a red light. As serious as our situation was, I couldn't help but smirk at the big "weimer-wiener," his meaty chest huffing nervous breaths and his muzzle taut from a grimace. "You can drive next time," I said.

He just turned and gawked at me, and then he settled back as I turned right onto the highway and headed for town--much slower too, I might add.

Silence followed. There was only the thrum of my car's tires on the worn highway.

I shifted uncomfortably in my seat, and not just from the awkward quiet. I was wishing I'd taken off my big-ass parka before I'd gotten in and buckled up. Apparently my sweaty distress was evident on my face, because Trace's paw went to turn down the heater just as mine did. His monstrous extremity popped against my dainty paw, and he bounced as he chuckled, the both of us pulling back.

"I'm burning up, too," he admitted, taking the reins and switching off the heat. "Crack the windows a bit and we should be set."

I nodded and thumbed the levers on my side, lowering his window and mine a smidge. Frigid air sliced through the cabin immediately and chilled my wet nose. It felt amazing. I relished in the cold as it tossed my hair and fur and stung my eyes, but then Trace coughed to clear his throat, and I knew he was going to press the previous issue (which I'd hoped he'd forgotten about) a little further.

"I don't think it would've scared him," he sighed. His ears flapped in the breeze stirring through the car.

My throat clenched as I chuffed. "Are you kidding me?"

He shook his head. "No. Coming from you, I think he would've been fine."

A mightier gust barreled into the side of my car as we left the tree-covered road to hit the highway that cut through a massive acreage of freshly harvested wheat fields. The grisly remains of the crop jutted sharp and pale-gold all around, and the sweet, musty scent of it was swept into the car through the open windows. Trace sneezed as dust was carried in as well, and I yanked a Kleenex from my arm rest and handed it to him. He thanked me and honked out some mucus, wadding up the tissue and stuffing it into his pocket.

"Sweety," I said. His face brightened for a moment before he looked at me. "It isn't going to matter who the news comes from. No matter what, he's going to get scared." I looked quickly and placidly at him. "Wouldn't you be?"

His jowls tugged down into a frown, and he nodded stiffly. "I guess," he mumbled. "I mean--yeah--I would. After everything, he's essentially going to be told that all of the efforts to catch his attacker were pointless."

My gut panged. As true as that was, it wasn't all meaningless. "Well, yeah..." I bit my tongue. This was going to sound incredibly selfish. "But at least I don't have to worry anymore."

He smiled warmly at me, his green eyes sparkling. "I know, and you've no idea how happy I am that you're safe now." His smile became sheepish, and he turned to peer out of the window. "I'm just glad he didn't get too out of control and go too far."

I swallowed hard. I didn't want to think about that anymore--think about that possibility. It didn't matter. I was safe. I was safe. I was safe. Nothing could happen. Nothing could go wrong. I was alright. He couldn't hurt me anymore.

Corbin wasn't an issue.

"Hey."

"AH!"

Trace recoiled as I squealed. He'd put his paw on my leg. My heart began to race, and I hated myself for it. My reaction was just a reflex--a program for self-preservation. God, I couldn't believe what I'd become. The worried look in Traces eyes was evidence enough.

I'd been reduced to a jumpy, terrified, powerless fur. I didn't feel like a wolf--I was a sheep. No, a lamb.

"Easy," he said, his paw still outstretched toward me. "You alright?"

I lay my head back, straining my eyes to still watch the road, and tried to relax.

Trace's voice was rumbling and low when he spoke.

"Damn, him. If I had known he was..."

"Trace, don't," I sighed, braking at a stop sign. I peered left than right, and then I smiled as warmly as I could at him. He didn't return the gesture, but his eyes didn't leave mine. "I appreciate the concern, but everything's fine now."

I'm safe. I'm safe. I'm safe. I'm safe.

_ _ He didn't seem convinced. "If you say so." He then rolled up his window. "Just promise me something, alright?"

I shivered a bit, but I left my window down. The chill air still felt wonderful. I turned left toward town.

"What?" I asked.

A soft smiled tugged upward on his lips and his floppy ears bobbed. He took a deep breath, and his chest expanded so much that I thought his bulging pecs were about to tear through the cloth of his shirt and jacket for me to ogle at. My cheeks flushed a little.

He let his lungful of air out with a huff. "Promise that you'll call me," he said.

My ears flicked at his words. "Wh...what?"

His brow creased and he smiled like a goof, crooking his paw into a telephone shape and waggling it near an ear. "You know--call me?" He chuckled. "I will start to sing me some Blondie up in here."

"Oh, God," I groaned, giving an overly stretched frown that tugged my eyelids. "Please don't."

"I won't...if you'll..."

"Call you?"

He snickered. "Any, any time."

Jesus, he was adorable for a macho-fur. Why couldn't I have found him instead of...

I'm safe. I'm safe. I'm safe. I'm safe. I'm safe.

"Well?" he persisted.

I groaned. My heart gave a hard, knocking thud against my breast. I daintily rubbed the mammary--getting a surprised cock of an eyebrow from Trace--and shrugged.

"Any particular reason?"

He shrugged himself, his melon-sized shoulders nearly jutting to the roof of my teeny vehicle. "We could do something fun--I dunno--outside of school. You could probably use some R&R, get things off of your mind."

I snuffed a bit too brashly and his ears flicked at me. "Unlikely," I sighed. He frowned at me, and I realized he'd taken my words the wrong way. "Not me calling you! That's not what's unlikely...that's not what I meant."

His goofy smile returned. "Oh? So you will then?"

I eyed him softly. "Why the sudden interest in me?"

He bounced as he barked a little laugh. "What do you mean 'sudden?' We've been friends for a couple of years now."

"And I'm suddenly single," I couldn't help but point out.

"Hey," he said, throwing up his thick paws defensively. "I just asked you to call me--that's all. Maybe go out for a drink, or dinner, or falafel or something. I didn't say anything about going steady."

"True," I said, smiling even though I knew I shouldn't have been. "But--you understand--it's just kind of...sudden, right?"

He cocked his head to the side, ears swaying. "It's been almost a month and a half, Mindy."

I nodded, my eyes wide. "Yeah--sudden."

"Lord," he chuckled, wiping a paw across his face.

He grew quiet and stared out of his window, leaning close to it, his breaths shooting spouts of fog across the glass.

I watched him out of the corner of my eye for a while. Ever since I'd...I'd become available again...I had been a bit down. No, I'd been really down. I wasn't used to being alone. I didn't like it at all. I put up a brave face, but I was so used to having Corbin around that I feel...incomplete now that he's out of the picture. I mean, I'm glad we're not together anymore. He was abusive and cruel, but...but, still, I...

"Dammit, no!" I squealed, shaking my head. I would not let my confused and battered heart lead me astray. That part of my life--the fights, the malice--was over, and I was better for it, too. No. "I didn't love him," I told myself.

"Uh," Trace mumbled, his eyes darting around nervously at my outburst. "Okay? That's...that's good--progress and what not."

I smacked him sharply on his rock-hard arm and he flinched, smiling. "Shut up, I know it's progress."

One step at a time. Take a breath. I'm safe.

_ _ "Well," he said cheekily. "Progress a little further." He bobbed his eyebrows and smiled, growling seductively.

He looked hurt as I busted a lung laughing.

"Awh, come on," he sulked.

My body still bouncing from chuckles, I wiped tears from my eyes and then patted his thick leg. "I'm sorry, hon," I said. "That was just..."

"Too much?" he asked, ears falling back abashedly.

"Yeah, but you made me feel better. Thanks."

I let a few minutes of silence go by. Trace swiveled his head around when I cleared my throat.

"And, sure, I'd love to go out for a drink sometime."

The goofy smile graced his muzzle once again. I thought I even heard his stumpy tail thwacking away at my car's leather upholstery. "No foolin'?"

He was so eager and excited! "No foolin', chief."

"Alright!" he exclaimed, giving a hearty fist-pump.

My eyes seemed to roll of their own accord.

Men.

Still, as excited as I was at the prospect of going out and having some fun for once, I still had some things to deal with first: namely picking up some things from Corbin's.

I wasn't looking forward to that.

* * * * * *

I brought my car to a stop outside of Corbin's place. The cabin-esque little home--wooded shutters, brick accents and chimney, dark and weathered boards for siding--looked ominous to me now. The sight of it used to bring me a little bit of joy, but that was before Corbin...changed. I lingered in my buckled seat, staring much too frighteningly at the place I'm sure.

"I'll go with you," Trace said resolutely, already unbuckling his seatbelt.

I bit my lip as I saw a curtain sway in a window.

"No," I sighed. "I'll be fine."

"Mindy..."

Trace put a lid on it as I glared at him. "I'll be fine."

I'm safe. I'm safe. I'm safe. I'm safe.

The weimaraner crossed his burly arms and scowled, flashing a stern glance toward the house. "He might not be charged with attempted murder, or assault and battery, but..." His green eyes were frigid when he looked at me fumbling with my own seatbelt. "He is charged with abuse."

"He's been going to therapy and anger management," I said robotically.

"He can't take a step outside that house without having cops swarm all over him!" He pointed down the street and--to make his point clear--indicated the squad car assigned to keep watch over Corbin's house until he was deemed "reformed" enough to be trusted not to attempt to escape or some shit. "He's a criminal, Mindy! Maybe not for hurting Sasha, Kendrick, and Hawthorne, but he did hurt you!"

I opened my door. The pop of the handle made me flinch. "I'll be fine, Trace. He won't try anything. He's not that stupid."

All I got was a hearty harrumph from the beefy dog as I slipped out of the car. When I rounded it, though, I tapped on Trace's glass and he rolled it down. My heart was already hammering at my ribcage.

"But, you know," I said. "Keep your door open. Maybe stand out here..."

"Just in case?"

I nodded stiffly.

He did as I asked, and I kept checking over my shoulder for every few strides I made toward the house. My sneakers scraped against the sidewalk, clopped upon the steps, and I found that I was practically shuffling toward the front door. I couldn't stop shaking.

I'm safe. I'm safe. I'm safe. I'm safe. I'm safe.

The wooded steps creaked beneath my gentle feet as I started up to the porch, and I squeaked--my heart skipping a beat--as the lock on the front door grated loudly and the wooden barrier between me and my greatest fear was hinged open.

I froze. Of course I froze, one foot on the porch and the other still in midair. My ears and arms and almost everything else went limp as I stared at Corbin there in the doorway. He didn't smile, but he didn't frown; he didn't seem happy, but he didn't seem angry either. He just looked...tired.

"Hey," he said weakly, his russet paw resting on the knob of the door. His eyes weren't aimed at me, but they were sure getting a good look of the planks between my feet.

The banister jiggled a little as I clutched it for balance. "Hey."

I cringed at his appearance--and not because he was the last fur on the planet that I wanted to see right then. No, he looked terrible. I hated to think it, but I...I felt bad for him. Clearly his experience at the Haunt--of being arrested, charged, tried, convicted, sentenced, imprisoned--had really torn him apart. Everyone was surprised when he was proven innocent of Sasha's attack and the fiasco at Greenwood--a mixture of a polygraph test, a lack of military experience (which apparently the true culprit possessed according to the detective on the case), and--most importantly--an alibi for the night of Sasha's assault proved he wasn't the culprit...of those charges. Sure, he may have been with me when the attack on the arctic fox took place, but...

My paw stroked gingerly across the side of my face, down my chest. The evidence of the beating was gone now, but they had been a ripe purple once. When I was taken in for questioning I was surprised when I spilled my guts to the police about Corbin hitting me. I just saw an opportunity for escape--for freedom--and I took it.

The irony was too much. I'd once been trapped in the prison of a destructive relationship, and now I wasn't. My eyes fell to the black monitor strapped to Corbin's ankle. He was in my shoes now--sort of. Still, I didn't like seeing him as he was.

His pompous, confident attitude was gone. If anything, he wasn't who he used to be. I hadn't been able to decide if that was good or bad yet. In just the short span of time since his arrest, he'd seemed to sink into himself. His muscle tone was less, and I'd even go so far as to say he looked malnourished; his once shiny, black fur was ratty looking and faded; his once strong back was bowed, shoulders limp; his sharp ears sagged; his once fiery eyes were now languid and glassy. The Doberman leaning against the doorframe before me wasn't Corbin Wells.

This was a broken dog--beaten.

His voice was rough and gritty when he spoke, like maybe he had a sore throat or he'd taken up smoking. He was so quiet that I could barely hear him; I had to fully perk my ears and step toward him, much to my fright. He didn't do anything though, but simply shift his weight a little and tug nervously on his baggy tank top that I knew once fit him perfectly.

"You, uh, here for your stuff?" he asked, eyes focusing on me then the porch and back again over and over.

"Yeah," I simply said.

He cleared his throat, wincing as he did it. "Okay. I'll get it for you," he said, his voice on par with a whisper.

"Alright. Thank you."

A wounded smile crossed his stubbly muzzle, and then he shuffled back into the house without even bothering to close the door. I leaned to the side and peered after him. Was he limping?

I just shook my head, covered my mouth, and turned to look out over the yard. I felt tears attempting to break free, but I wasn't here to get emotional. Trace was leaning against my car and watching intently. He mouthed "You okay?" and I nodded. Then I turned back as I heard Corbin's pathetic shuffling returning. He reappeared at the door with two big luggage bags in his paws.

"I got everything I could find," he said, waggling the heavy looking totes. "If something's missing than tell Rutger or Ridge and I'll scrounge around some more and give it to them to give to you." His glassy eyes swam as he looked at me--actually looked at me--for the first time since I arrived.

All of the other times I'd come to get my things he'd been at therapy or anger management or parole, so I wasn't used to seeing him like this. My initial shock at his ragged form was testament enough for that.

He chuffed weakly. "I know you'd rather be anywhere but near me. I don't blame you either." He coughed and rubbed his chest, a frown tugging down on his muzzle as his paw brushed against the spot where he'd been so savagely cut.

"Corbin..." I took a step toward him, but he flinched and shook his head. My heart ached.

"Here," he said, holding out the bags for me to take, his eyes once again surveying the porch boards.

I took the things, gasping at the weight of them, and we both backed away from one another. "Thank you," I said. And, to be somewhat civil to his situation, I cleared my throat and asked him how he was doing.

"Uh...alright, I guess," he said remotely. "I get my roaming area expanded out next week, so that's nice." He snuffed, a fragment of hopefulness creeping into his decrepit voice. "I won't get to go far, but it's better than sitting on my ass all day when I'm not being escorted around by my parole officers."

I smiled for his benefit, my tail even wagging a little. "That's...that's great."

"Yeah. Well," he sighed. "I won't keep you."

"Oh, uh...alright."

He slowly closed the door. Pain was etched starkly onto his face and in his eyes. "Goodbye, Mindy."

"Bye, Corbin. And..."

The door closed. The heavy bolt was locked.

A weight I thought I'd ridden myself of pressed firmly onto my shoulders again. "And good luck," I whispered to no one.

I padded back to my car and Trace popped the trunk so I could put my things away. He didn't say a word the whole time, which surprised me. But, more surprisingly, was his shift in demeanor. Maybe it was because of Corbin being so very near, but the weimaraner had...darkened. His once bubbly aura had become cold, and the frown he sported was downright eerie.

"You alright?" I asked upon the two of us climbing back into the car.

"Yeah," he simply said. "I'm fine."

But I didn't think he was.