The Woods
More build-up than action, this still involves macrofur elements with some crushing and violence at the end. Otherwise, it's not really the standard macro story, I think.
A young girl runs away from an abusive father, to find a strange companion in the woods.
The night was hot and humid. There was a slight breeze, but it did little to alleviate the heat. She lay on her bed in the wagon, window open to let in what little air it could. She could hear the arguing outside. The booming loud, angry, drunk voice of her father, and the weak, timid voice of her mother. Kristine braced herself for the familiar sound of a loud slap against the face, hard enough to send someone to the ground. No slap came, though her mother was still on the verge of tears as she yelled. Christine slowly stood from the bed, reaching up to shut the window gently, not wanting to attract her father's wrath, and then returned to bed, trying to control herself from crying. The yelling eventually died down as the two moved away from the wagon, and Kristine could enter an uneasy slumber.
_ A voice in the woods, calling to her. It was hard to make out the words; it was like birdsong and animal cries all coming together at once. She stared into the woods, as leaves rustled against the wind -- and then, as they moved, a gap was made in the leaves that looked like a face, staring at her._
She woke, covered in sweat. A little sunlight trickled through the window, just enough to indicate it was sunrise, but still early enough her parents would be asleep -- indeed, the sound of her father's snoring was audible now that she listened for it. Kristine changed her dress into one that wasn't so damp, before leaving the wagon quietly to start her chores; it was a good way to get away from her parents, for however short a time, and the earlier she started, the earlier she could be finished. She did the chores that took her away from most on the caravan, to be alone with her imagination. As Kristine fed the chickens in the animal wagon, she imagined she saw fairies in the grass, dancing with each other in the green, lost in their own fairy music and uncaring of the concerns of mortals, but still putting on a show for those that were curious, and the bending of the tall grass in the wind was just a part of the performance.
It was then she realized there was a pair of ears in the grass, next to a tree at the edge of the woods -- they were fox ears, pointed towards her. The fox's head moved up, yellow eyes peering at the girl. The fox continued to meet her stare, as if curious about her. Kristine slowly put down the birdseed and walked slowly towards the fox, measuring every step to not scare it off. Even with such caution, it was a surprise the fox stood in its place, continuing to watch her slowly approach. When Kristine was just close enough to reach out and touch it, the fox turned and walked slowly into the woods. After several steps, the fox stopped and turned to look at Kristine, as if expecting her to follow -- and then follow it she did.
The leaves danced to the wind's beat, and in the clearing, a ray of sunlight penetrated through, lighting up the emerald grass, as flowers of blue, orange, yellow, and red all swayed, seeming alive. The fox stood to the side and watched Kristine, as if curious. Kristine sat on the floor and gathered flowers, using strands of grass to tie them together. As she looked up to the fox, she realized it was gone -- and that dreadful voice was shouting at her, the voice of the monster that called itself her father.
She rushed back to the caravan, and the bouquet had been ripped from her hands and thrown to the ground. Her father yelled at her, as she knew he would, about not going into the woods and doing her chores. She apologized, tearfully, and insisted she still had time for her chores -- and then a burst of pain as she fell to the ground, face stinging for a long time from the slap. She went back to work, sobbing.
She had the chance, one night. She took it. She ran and ran into the woods, not looking back. He wasn't her real father -- her real father was a good, kind person. This was the imposter that came in after he died, and her mother insisted that Kristine would learn to love him... but she never seemed to care if he would come to love her. There was nothing in the caravan for her but more pain and heartache. They wouldn't notice, not this late at night
She ran into the clearing where she had gathered the flowers. There, the fox was sitting in the middle, glowing with supernatural light, as if waiting for her. She held back her sobs as she walked up to it, collapsing to the ground before it -- the fox licked at her cheeks, and she embraced it about the neck, sobbing. They lay there like there for a long time, Kristine sobbing against the fox's neck. She finally felt she could sob no more, and pulled back -- what had been a normal fox no longer seemed as one; now the fox was a girl like her, with two arms, two legs, and wearing a white dress. She still had the muzzle, ears, fur, pads, and claws of a fox, but otherwise was human. Kristine shivered, wanting to ask questions, but at the same time not really wanting answers. Kristine lay down next to the girl, and the two huddled together as Kristine fell asleep.
She woke to the sounds of shouts. Yelling. Footsteps in the dark -- they were in the woods and they were coming for her. The fox-girl heard them too, and bolted up, ears perked and eyes peering through the woods. Her hand came down onto Kristine's -- it was a painful grip, belying the strength of the fox-girl, as she dragged Kristine with her deeper into the woods. She didn't know how long they ran, but the voices had grown quieter and quieter, and they were now deep into the woods. Kristine shouted for them to stop, her breath alternating sobs and panting from the exertion. The fox-girl looked back at Kristine, shaking her head as she continued to pull Kristine with her.
" I... I can't keep going," cried Kristine, but she couldn't bring herself to wrench herself away from the fox-girl. "What will I eat? What will I do? I shouldn't have left... I..."
The fox-girl stopped then, and whirled around, studying Kristine's face for a few minutes. Her yellow eyes glowed in the dark night, her expression hard to read. Then she stepped forward, wrapping her arms around Kristine and wordlessly hugging her. "Follow," she whispered into Kristine's ear, in a voice that seemed a cross between a young girl's voice and the sound of the wind. Kristine sobbed several times against the fur of her shoulder, and then she slowly nodded. The two held hands once more, and ran deep into the dark.
Sunlight poured over the trees as her eyes slowly opened. Her head was pounding painfully. Her body was covered in sweat again, but this time she didn't feel confined to an oven of a wagon. The young fox-girl's arms were around her, the fox muzzle buried against her neck, warm breath on skin. A rumbling sound caused the fox's ears to perk up, and Kristine realized it was the sound of her stomach, as a wave of hunger and thirst passed over her. She moved away from the fox-girl, whose eyes opened, bright yellow eyes staring into Kristine's own. "I'm hungry," Kristine said, her voice pleading as she reached down to rub her stomach.
The fox simply nodded and stood She reached down and took her hand, standing and leading her once more into the woods. As Kristine took a few steps forward, her legs yelled in pain -- the muscles taught as they were still recovering from last night's run. But they weren't stronger than her hunger, and she followed wordlessly.
Soon, they came to a small clearing, that seemed to be pierced by a bright ray of light that shined through the hole of the trees. The fox pointed at parts of the ground, where there were small bushes of wild strawberries growing in the field. Yelling in joy, Kristine fell to her knees, gathering the strawberries in her hands. She stuffed the first handfuls in her mouth; usually wild strawberries did not have a strong sweet taste, more like water with slight flavoring, but her hunger made these the sweetest strawberries she's ever had. After her first handfuls were devoured, she gathered more and turned to the fox, holding up her hands to offer her some. The fox shook her head, lips curling into a smile that exposed her canines. "I don't eat," she said simply. Kristine returned to eating, and when she had her fill, the fox took her hand and led her deeper into the forest.
Strawberries weren't the only things she ate. The fox-girl pointed out the good mushrooms from the bad, telling her not to eat them right away. A stream provided her with water she needed. Each time, the fox would watch Kristine, observing her curiously and quietly as she ate and drank, then would walk up to her, take her hand silently, and lead her to the next point. The fox brought her some killed mice once, but Kristine grimaced and recoiled, and the fox-girl looked confused for a moment, but didn't insist.
After she had her fill, the fox led her to something new. A wagon had been abandoned by the wayside, the wheels removed -- the axle had snapped in two, and the shock was enough to crack the flooring. Kristine looked inside the wagon, and it was mostly empty -- save for a single box. The fox-girl watched Kristine from the side, hands clasped behind her back, her tail slowly wagging. As Kristine opened the box, she pulled out a series of old clothes. Most were tattered beyond repair, or were so heavily patched they were more patches than the original material. One piece caught her eye, however -- a small red dress, slightly big for her, with its only flaw being a rip along the back, enough to expose the small of her back. She held it up, studied it, and then turned and ran to the fox-girl, hugging her tightly with tears in her eyes. The fox hugged back, before stepping back and licking her cheek. Then she took her hand and led her away.
The two made a small camp, and Kristine prepared a small fire-pit. It was the fox that made the fire itself, by concentrating on the kindling and setting it ablaze. They had managed to scrounge a small pot discarded from another caravan along the road, and in this they boiled herbs, roots, mushrooms, and the meat of a couple of rodents the fox caught, Kristine having lost her revulsion of them days ago. The stew lacked good seasoning and salt, but it was still warm and filling. As the two lay cuddled next to the fire, they were about to fall asleep when the fox's ears swiveled up, and she looked up, alert and the furs of her back rising. Soon even Kristine could hear it, the sounds of footsteps and shouting voices were once more heard. Voices were calling out -- they had been searching for her all this time. They were headed towards them. The fox grabbed Kristine's hand, and dragged her off, the grip painful against Kristine's wrist. The voices were coming closer. " There's the smoke! Look, I see her!"
' Kristine! Kristine, get back here!'
The fox-girl's running was frantic, harder than anything Kristine had been put through before. The two seemed to run forever, and she couldn't keep it up, heart pounding in her chest, lights appearing at the edge of her vision. Just as she was about to complain and try to stop, when her leg suddenly fell into a small rabbit hole, and pain shot up through her leg. She screamed as she fell onto the ground. The fox-girl whirled around and looked at Kristine, giving a very animal wail of distress. She looked up at the approaching humans, and back down at Kristine, before turning and bolting back into the woods. Rough hand picked Kristine up from the ground, raising her to her feet. Two men from the caravan carried her between them, and she looked up at them with tears streaming from her face.
" Look at her! You're filthy, young girl..."
" Ah, here comes her father..."
The heavy footfalls came towards her, and she recoiled by instinct. His angry face was back. He demanded they let her go, and he grabbed her by the hair, pulling her towards him. She lost her balance and fell against him -- his other hand raised up and slapped her face awkwardly, then more strongly. She screamed and yelled, struggling against his grip. "You little devil-child!" he yelled. "Do you not understand what you put us through?" He dragged her back to the caravan, lifting her by the hair and body, and she cried the way.
She lay curled on the bed, crying into her pillow, back in her old green dress that was forced to wear again. She was locked in the hot wagon, the window shutters closed and locked, and she lost track of time in the musty wagon. She perked up as she heard a small sound outside -- a fox's warble. She blinked away her tears and looked up -- there was a shadow against the window shutter as something stood outside.
She smiled and stood quickly from the bed, limping to the window on one leg. She tried to force open the shutters, but couldn't -- the wooden slabs refusing to budge. "I can't get out," she whispered against the window.
" Stand back," said the voice of the fox-girl. As Kristine did, the furred, padded fist of the fox-girl punched through the shutter, the wooden slabs flying back into the room. The fox-girl reached for Kristine, lifting her up with easy strength out of the window and lowering her down by the wagon. It was then Kristine looked down, noticing she was wearing the ripped red dress. Voices started shouting, footsteps running to the wagon -- they were seen. The fox-girl took her hand, but Kristine resisted, crying tearfully, "I can't!" She pointed down to her twisted ankle. The fox-girl whirled around, staring with bright yellow eyes at the men and women clustering around the two. One face in particular stood out -- the man who called himself her father. He strode up to Kristine, not even looking at the fox-girl.
" You little..." he yelled, reaching down to pull at her hair, his other hand raising to strike her.
It was then the fox-girl let out an angry cry, pushing him -- the force was enough to send him back several feet, and he tumbled to the ground. Cries sounded throughout the people of the caravan, as her yellow started to glow -- the fox-girl growing in size, lips curled to reveal her teeth, looking much like a vixen willing to fight to protect her newborn cubs. She continued to grow to three stories high, as several of those watching broke and ran. The fox-girl's attention was directly on the father, and as he struggled to his feet, her padded hand reached down, two fingers pinching his short hair. He screamed, hands pounding ineffectually at her thick fingers as she raised him by it slowly, getting him up no more than a foot off the ground before several of the strands ripped from his skull. He fell to the ground onto his back, looking up at the vision of the fox-girl rearing back her other hand, eyes full of anger. He yelled and brought his hands up, right before her hand smacked against his body. She raised her hand and smacked him again and again, each time the sound becoming wetter, occasionally carrying the sound of snapping twigs.
Kristine watched curiously as the fox-girl then stood up to her whole height, leaving the mangled body on the ground. She turned to Kristine and reached down with the hand that wasn't covered in blood. There was a yell from a man from the group, who turned to run, trying to grab Kristine before she was nabbed by the fox-creature. His efforts were immediately halted as a heavy, huge footpaw slammed into his side as he was kicked, his body flying into the side of the wagon with a thick wet sound, and then his body slumped. The fox-girl growled, baring her teeth as she whirled on the rest, and the few that had remained all turned and ran away. The fox then turned and reached down to Kristine, lifting her up in her hand, and carried her into the woods.
The day the strange fox girl had attacked the caravan and spirited away a young girl, was the day that trade along that route had stopped. No one would be willing to venture into the haunted forest, for fear of disturbing the ancient and powerful spirits. Some wanderers put less stock in the stories, however, and tell tales of things they saw when they travelled that way -- many of the stories involve a young woman in a red dress wandering the woods, sometimes following a strange red fox in the woods, sometimes being followed by. Almost all of these wanderers tell of the fox turning to look at them, its eyes flashing unnaturally in the light, before it scurried off and disappeared. The woman never seemed to notice them, and never answered any of their calls, always disappearing deeper into the woods.