Pheasant Hunt 01 - Captured
#1 of Hunting
My first try at uploading a story here. Written in english (not my native tongue so it may be a bit.. bad) Its about Pepe, a whitetail deer boy from the favelas of San Ferro... getting abducted.
Somewhere at the outskirts of San Ferro. High Noon. The sun was burning on the rusty, ribbed roofs of the favela making the air wobbling above them. An odour of rotting trash and feces filled the air, sticking between the tiny, old and rubbled huts. Only a few inhabitants were visible. Most sat at home, avoiding the intense heat or were working in one of the cheap factories in the industrial quarter.
Somewhere between these rubbled, rusty houses there was movement. A fast, agitated movement.
A young, firm looking body leaped over rusty fences, trash dumps and slid through colorful oily puddles, drying remains of the last rain. He pushed his limits, avoiding the few pedestrians he encountered.
A young whitetail anthro ran for his life. He was firm, fragile looking, almost a bit skinny. He had small antlers on his head. White spots decorated his backside and his outer thighs. He wore a greasy, former white shirt and blue, tight boxers. He had a cute face with big hazelnut brown eyes, now desperately looking for a place to hide. His fur looked damp, sweaty and his hair was dirty and rubbled.
He was not alone. About thirty meters behind him, two dark looking wolves followed, running as fast as he did, grim looking. The fur of the first was rather light, cut short, he wore some orange t-shirt and army pants and the second one some leather coat and blue jeans. Both had huge, knives in their paws as the followed the deer.
Pepe, that was the whitetails name ran for his life. His heart pumped to the max. His side was aching and he had his right foot hitten bloody on one of that metal fences two streets behind him. It burned like hell. But he had to escape.
Tightly in his grip, he did hold the cause for his troubles. An innocent looking envelope with two small plastic bags, Tiny crystals inside.
And he was at the wrong side of the Blue Creek. The creek that parted his brothers gangs quarter with the Bastards ones. The Bastards.. that was the name of that gang. Just a hundred meters away now, the shabby way he was running along parted and ended at that creek. The creek is a dirty, rubbish, oily and stinky ditch with almost no water left.
He had to cross it. As fast as possible and just before the two guys behind him got him.
The ground was sandy and soft. He just tried to avoid the sherds that were hidden down there. His hooves hit the ground hard with each leap he made as he fled.
Almost breathless he reached a crossing. Two wrecked and plundered cars were at the side of the road. Left of his, a small, dirty bar in one of that shacks with very loud TV entertaining the empty road and two older looking horses sitting in shabby chairs, drinking beer and smoking.
"He is over there!" he suddenly heard the two wolves barking behind him, way closer as he expectes. He looked back, while still running and didnt see that sherd just in front of his right hoof.
It buried itself painfully deep in his flesh just where the horn ended. He stumbled, then got up again, bot lost valuable time. Blood colored his hoofprints now red.
"Now we got em..." one of the hunters shouted. "That son of a bitch.." the other answered.
Pepe turned left lumping on one side, in a small alley. The shacks got smaller and then they opened to the creek.
"I got it!" he thought to hisself, getting ready for jumping over. Then, suddenly a hit and a sharp pain at backhead. His sight darkened.
"Gotcha!" the orange-shirted shouted as Pepes moves froze. Then the boy fell slowly over and hit the muddy ditch with his frontside.
The two wolves were quickly at his height. The first gave him a hart hit in the side with his right foot. Pepe didnt move. Just the push made his body jump a bit. Then the second one grabbed him at his hair and pulled his greased head out of the mud.
"He is done.." the light haired one said heavy breathing. Pepes maw was open and his eyes closed. His face soiled. "Is he dead?" his companion asked. The first grabbed the deerboys right arm and pulled him out of the trench. Then he laid him down, checking for his pulse. "No.. still alive." he shook his head.
"That son of a bitch.." the darker one cursed exhausted. "Through half of the favela." he panted. "Lets get him over to Moses.." The lighter, orange shirted one took the envelope first and gave it his companion. "Take care of it.." he said "Thats the evidence." Then he took his huge knife and put it at the boys belly. He quickly pulled it upwards, cutting the fabric of the shirt and ripped it off, exposing his white fured belly. "W.. why that?" his collegue asked. "Clean him a bit.. i wont carry such a dirty, smelly thing around.." his friend said as he startet to cut off the boys pants too, exposing his sheathed cock and balls. "Now he is naked.. you gonna carry him like that?" "No.." He takes the clothes and rubs the not so dirty sides along the muddy parts of the boys body. Pepe didnt move at all. "How pathetic.." the second one murmurs. "Pedro will make a short work of him." said the lighthaired one while he rubbed with the fabric along the boys belly down to his cock. The small thing got pushed aside. "Drugs.. dealing.. ya know.. he as to make a statement..." he put the fabric away and looked around. Not far from them was a clothes line with grayish dishcloth. He went over and got a rag. "We could finish him here" his friend said. "We would not need to carry him around.. and we could say he.. uhm.. died." The former one put the rag on the hip of the aswoon. Then he grabbed his hips and turned the limp one on his belly, knotting the fabric above his tail. His buttcheeks were gray of the dusty ground. "Pedro sais.. no kill without hearing.. if its possible.." Then he pulled him up his shoulders. The three made their way back with the unconscious one, the fabric unable to cover his naughty bits "Lets go..."