West Side Island
His dirty fingers trembled as they picked up the pieces of metal and plastic off the forest floor. The scenery around him was quiet, a familiar lack of sound that the child realized would soon be followed by stormy weather. The feral animals of the woodlands always knew when to take shelter, the tiny fox had quickly learned.
A few minutes ago it had been much more boisterous, however. Children older than him—true islanders—had found him working and had quickly made a mockery of his newest invention.
They loved to hate him and the little fox had stopped asking himself why a long time ago. He avoided them as best he could, as well as most the adults in the village; he'd only venture into their territory to scavenge for food or spare parts.
Unfortunately, the younger ones had found the harassment entertaining enough to seek the small kit out when they were bored.
This had been one of those times.
His fingers were so shaky that a couple of the pieces he picked up were instantly dropped again. A combination of hunger, adrenaline, and injury made his body a vibrating mess of nerves, and he realized that it would soon be time to head back to the village for sustenance.
The past winter had been harsh on the island and, while it was springtime, a lot of the berries were late to bloom and thrive. He needed to find food and fast.
Once the remains of his invention had been properly gathered in his arms, the child quietly began the mile trek back to his home, keenly aware of the darkening clouds up above.
A faint sonic boom echoed throughout the forest, causing the child's large ears to twitch curiously. He glanced around as he felt the wind shift, but after a few moments of silence he mentally shrugged and continued on his way.
An approaching sound, almost like a chainsaw, caused the fox's fur to stand on end. He quickly jumped behind a bush and burrowed into himself, hugging the parts of his machine tightly to his body.
As soon as he'd made himself scarce, a billow of wind, dirt, and leaves shot up from the forest floor, a blur of blue pushing it in every direction. The kit's eyes widened in fascination as the scene quickly returned to normal, the leaves gliding in the air as the only indication that something had ever gone amiss.
He jumped out of his bush, inquisitiveness making him momentarily courageous. But a rumbling sound in the sky quickly quelled his bravery and the fox's ears instantly went flat against his head. The speeding blur had been heading towards the beach, but the child's home was toward the cliffside. He took one last—almost longing—breath as his gaze trailed the pathway to the ocean, before quickly jogging in the other direction.
The rest of the trip home was uneventful, aside from the drizzle of rain and constant roar of thunder becoming louder and louder. The small fox whimpered involuntarily as he entered his home, a small cave hidden behind thorny shrubbery. It was situated relatively high on the mountainside and its hard-to-spot entrance made it a safe haven from unwanted passersby.
It was not deep, but it served as a retreat and sheltered him from weather well enough. Scavenging for over three seasons had proved fruitful, too: multiple trinkets and gadgets were scattered about, as well as a makeshift bed and a multitude of books on mechanics, engineering, physics, and fantasy.
The books had been the luckiest find: most didn't throw away books unless they had been damaged beyond legibility. Thankfully, many considered a book with water damage unreadable. While the hardcovers and pages were warped—and a few pages harder to read from smeared ink—the books were as beautiful to the kit as a sparkling jewel.
The local library in the next village over, however, didn't feel the same way when they had flooded last year.
The drizzle outside became louder and a flash of light caused the fox to jump in fear. His cave had been dark when he had first found it last summer, but it hadn't taken the kit long to build a solar-powered lantern. He had made a habit of setting it outside when he left and bringing it in with him when he returned. Currently, he took his small lamp and made a beeline for his mess of ratty blankets that served as a bed. He had rigged a mattress out of some old cardboard, foam, and egg crates, and—despite its rather pathetic appearance—it was quite comfortable.
He set the lamp down and turned it on, keeping it close as he wrapped himself in his blankets protectively. The storms on the island were fierce during the spring, but they were thankfully short-lived. His body still shook in fear, though, and he kept his gaze dutifully on the lantern and tried to tune out the barrage of flashes that would light up the walls of his home.
Eventually the fear gave way to exhaustion and the small fox felt the tenderness around his eye pulsate with his heartbeat. A blackeye was the least of his concerns, but the swelling always worried him. He had only had an infection once before, but the memory of the pain and fever were fresh in his mind.
It was one of the few times he had had to steal, as the local pharmacy would have never given him the antibiotics he needed. Most of the islanders thought he was a curse, or some kind of bad omen, and usually preferred to ignore his existence more than anything.
The fox's eyelids became heavy and eventually his body fell into a fitful rest, his thoughts occasionally going back to the speeding blur and the beach.
Hours later the kit had awoken from his impromptu nap and was thankful to see sunlight rays scattering across the cave's floor. He sat up and turned off his lamp, bringing it outside to recharge it for the evening.
He had already planned to visit the beach, just to see if he could catch another glimpse of whatever it was that had passed him in a blink of an eye. His hope was that it was some sort of machine, or invention of someone's that he could observe and study for his own projects.
After all, something with that kind of speed would surely be sellable and could be exactly what he needed to get himself out of his situation.
Half an hour later the small fox carefully walked towards the edge of the tree line, the ocean's constant hum signaling the end of the forest. His search for the fast blur stopped quickly, however, upon seeing the small biplane in the sand. His eyes widened in awe and the vulpine cautiously stepped towards the plane, watching his surroundings in his peripheral vision.
The plane had been parked a little haphazardously upon the beach and further inspection concluded that the pilot had crash-landed in the remote area. A small campsite had been set up next to the plane, so it was likely the pilot was not far away, or would be back shortly.
His fascination won over his fear, however, and the fox quickly popped open a side panel to see the mechanics of the biplane. While flying had always been a fascination of his, he had never really had the opportunity to see something of this magnitude up close. To say he was excited was an understatement.
His inspection of the plane allowed him to easily see what was wrong, but he had no tools or spare parts to repair it. Quietly closing the panel, the fox wasted no time in returning to the safety of the trees. Rather than heading home, the fox opted to stay close to the border and eventually found his way up into a tree to provide himself a better vantage point of the campsite. There were not many travelers to this side of the island and the kit was interested to see if they might be the inventor of the speedy contraption that had made its presence known a few hours ago.
His patience was not in vain: after an hour of waiting, a distant sonic boom erupted, and the fox tensed in anticipation as it saw the blur approach from the north side of the beach. An eruption of sand provided the trail to follow and the child held his breath as the speeding blur practically teleported to the campsite.
When it stopped, the kit's eyes widened in realization. The speeding blur was not a thing, but an actual Mobian.
A hedgehog, to be more precise.
At his campsite, the hedgehog had brought with him a rather sizeable paper bag. He set it down and began to kindle a fire, unaware of the pair of eyes watching him intently.
Once the fire was started, the hedgehog returned to the paper bag and sat down with his back to a log. He pulled out some of the bag's contents—a hot dog!—and began eating with vigor.
The fox couldn't help but drool a bit at seeing the hedgehog eat. The smell eventually wafted to his location and he inhaled deeply to take in every bit of its aroma. When his eyes opened the hedgehog had already pulled out a second hot dog and the vulpine quickly realized what the entire contents of the paper bag consisted of.
As much as he was curious of the hedgehog, his stomach could not handle the smell of food without actually partaking. He quietly returned to the forest floor and made his way back to the village for some scavenging.
After a rather uneventful venture into town, with an even less than successful scavenge for remnants of edible food, a barely-satiated fox had returned home and slept restlessly for the remainder of the night.
He was excited about his plans for the next day, though, and hoped more than anything that he'd be able to accomplish them without being seen.
The sun's rays had barely reached the beach by the time the little fox had returned to his viewpoint in a tree by the hedgehog's campsite. As predicted, the hedgehog in question was still snoozing away in a sleeping bag next to an extinguished campfire.
With a small tool bag in tow, the kit had situated himself comfortably within the confines of the tree and simply waited for a prime opportunity.
Unfortunately, he began to realize after a couple of hours that the hedgehog must've been a night owl. The sun was blazing high in the sky by the time he stirred and the fox was quietly panting from sitting in the heavy foliage as the sunrays baked the landscape.
Once awake, the hedgehog went over to his plane and popped a panel, inspecting the inside of the flying contraption. The kit held his breath, fervently wishing that the speedy blue Mobian would not be able to complete the repairs. He wanted a chance to tinker with the mechanics at least once before the traveler left!
There was an eventual growl, followed by the hedgehog angrily kicking the side of the biplane. The fox watched curiously as the hedgehog jumped a little from his foot making contact with the hard metal. He cursed and closed the panel back up with a lot more force than necessary.
"I would of course crash in a town with no mechanic," the hedgehog grumbled. He stretched, pushing his hands against his lower sides to bend back slightly. "Ah well, at least they got some awesome chili dogs."
The fox blinked and with a boom the hedgehog was gone. The small kit waited a few seconds before lowering himself to the ground, the wind from the blue blur's quick departure still kicking up a bit of sand in the immediate area.
He took a hesitant step forward, out of the protection of the trees, and once the silence seemed to linger, he quickly darted over to the plane, tool bag gripped tightly in his hands.
Hours had passed and the sun was already making its way back down under the horizon when a distant sonic boom alerted the fox of the traveler's return home. He quickly closed the panel and pulled himself away, grabbing his bag and a few tools that were still scattered on the ground before darting back to the trees.
He barely made it into the foliage before the sand kicked up and a blue hedgehog stood in the center of the campsite. His speed and agility told the kit to stay perfectly still, rather than try to hide further within the blanket of forest.
The vulpine's instincts were accurate, as the hedgehog remained standing tensely after his arrival, looking around carefully to inspect the area. He had felt something was amiss.
His eyes wandered over to the forest wall nearby and the fox swore they made eye contact as he searched the perimeter. However, the dark shade—combined with the setting sun—made the hedgehog glaze over the child's position.
Without moving, the fox was well hidden within the vegetation.
Eventually, the hedgehog nonchalantly shrugged and sat back against a log, similar to his position the previous night, before the fox had left. And, once again, the speedy Mobian pulled out a brown paper bag of what the kit now more accurately realized were chili dogs.
With the hedgehog's obvious loss of interest to his surroundings, the fox was able to pull himself back up into a tree, carefully keeping an eye on the traveler in case he took notice of the odd rustling of leaves.
The smell was painful to the kit's empty stomach, but he did not want to leave tonight. He had made substantial progress in mending the plane, and—if the hedgehog left for the same amount of time tomorrow—he could complete the repairs and give the hedgehog a way off the island.
He had no idea why he wanted to help him. The fox had at first thought it was self-motivated; after all, he had never had a chance to work with such complex machinery. But he could just very well had played around with the mechanics of the biplane, rather than repairing the damages and optimizing its engineering capabilities.
The hedgehog had no idea the fox existed, but the fox's highly imaginative mind had already decided the speedy blue blur was his friend. When you lived in a world where no one wanted you to be there, it was almost cathartic to create imaginary friendships with those who didn't even know you existed.
And to have a friend with a unique ability like the hedgehog's made his own gifts seem less ostracized and more accepting. After all, if someone that can run at the speed of sound can be considered likeable, surely he could be likeable, too?
The reality was far too harsh for the fox to consider and he opted to focus on the simple idea of helping this stranger. They would never meet, and the hedgehog would never know how his plane got fixed, but it would give the fox happy thoughts to think about during his lonely nights.
Exhaustion crept up fast on the fox, as it usually did when he could not eat regularly, and he closed his eyes, one of his arms hugging the branch tightly and the other holding his tool bag to his chest.
When the hedgehog left the next day, the little fox was quick to approach the plane and begin his work. About ten minutes into it, though, a faint smell wafted to his nose and he glanced over to the campsite nearby.
The brown paper bag was still there.
His nose twitched and, glancing around, the kit walked up to the bag to see if he could see inside without touching it. Sure enough, inside were two uneaten chili dogs, the heat from them long gone but still plenty edible, at least to the fox's eyes.
He hesitated. He was trying to help this hedgehog and now he was about to steal his food. The vulpine glanced up nervously, afraid that this was a trick; that the hedgehog was waiting to catch him in the act, to punish him as the bullies had done before.
But the beach was quiet, with only the sound of waves calmly crashing against the shoreline.
Hunger won out. The kit quickly reached into the bag and pulled out a chili dog, inhaling the treat so fast he barely had time to register the spiciness of it.
He reached into the bag for the other hot dog but stopped himself. The food he had just eaten was more than enough to get him through the day. He didn't need to be greedy.
It took sheer willpower to pull his hand away, and after a few more hesitant moments the fox returned back to the task at hand, his stomach growling in protest even while digesting the first taste of protein he'd had in weeks.
When the hedgehog returned, the fox had already made his way back up a nearby tree. The repairs had been easy enough and the extra work he put into the engine would hopefully prevent the same issue from occurring again.
Working on the plane had brought so many ideas to the fox's mind. Maybe, in time, he could even build his own plane and get off this wretched island once and for all. He could find someplace far away, rural and beautiful and peaceful.
No one could hate him there.
The hedgehog did not stop and observe his surroundings like he did the night before. However, he seemed almost perplexed at the uneaten chili dog in the brown paper bag.
He didn't look around, nor did he say anything. Perhaps he had forgotten he had leftovers from the night before.
Either way, he had brought with him a fresh bag of the tasty treats, and the fox could handle the smell a lot better now that he had been able to satiate some of his hunger.
A part of him did wonder what the food tasted like when it was actually warm, though.
As the traveler and the fox settled down for the evening, the fox was nearly giddy with excitement at the thought of the hedgehog realizing his plane was fixed. He wondered briefly if he should retreat back to his home before the morning, in case the speedy blue blur decided to search the forest for his secret helper.
But the child wanted to see the expression on the hedgehog's face and he wanted to watch the traveler take off in the plane and disappear beyond the horizon. He wanted to know that he had made someone else's life better.
When the fox awoke the next morning, the hedgehog was gone. He startled slightly and nearly lost his balance on the branch. Steadying himself, he breathed out a sigh when he saw that the biplane was still there, gleaming red in the morning rays.
His body was feeling cramped from sitting atop the branch so long, so he slowly brought himself back down to the forest floor. Peering out towards the campsite, the fox's ears twitched in anticipation as they listened for any signs of the hedgehog. After all, he wasn't usually quiet when he left.
But he was gone and, once again, a brown paper bag had been left near the fire. Cautiously, the kit walked up to the bag to peer inside.
Six chili dogs!
He looked back up quickly and took a few steps back in fear. Why would there be so much leftover food? Where had he gone?
And why hadn't he checked the plane?
The fox bit his lip as he stared at the bag. With six uneaten chili dogs there, he could probably take two and not get noticed….
You could mistakenly think six were in a bag when there were really only four. That seemed completely logical to the starving fox and remained that way as he happily ate two of the dogs.
They were not hot, but they seemed to have kept their warmth a bit better being closer to the campfire. His stomach growled and urged him to take another, but the fox knew better. Everything had to be done cautiously; carefully.
If he was brazen, he would most likely get caught and punished. He did not want any more injuries from the islanders and there was no telling how vicious the hedgehog would be.
The food here had not been thrown away as it had been in the village. He was stealing and he hated himself for it, but he hoped that his repairs of the plane would be a worthy appeasement to his thievery.
Now he just needed to get the hedgehog to realize it had been fixed.
Two days later had proven unfruitful and the fox was actually becoming frustrated at the hedgehog. How had he not noticed all his repairs? How can you not check on your plane, run schematics, or simply try and turn on the engine?
He needed to get the hedgehog's attention. The speedy Mobian was still disappearing during most of the day, which gave the kit plenty of time to try something slightly more drastic.
With an idea in mind, at the end of the second day the fox returned to his home and retrieved some supplies, bringing them back with him and keeping them hidden behind some bushes near the perimeter of the forest.
He had collected a lot of aged paint from the islanders, as the heat easily ate away at the color and dulled it into something that was unusable to them.
However, the island was full of natural pigments that allowed the kit to revitalize the paint into whatever color he chose. He would usually transfer small portions of paint to containers, add the pigment, and use the recolored paint to add style to his many inventions.
For this task, however, he had to use up all of his remaining paint that he possessed. And to create the color he wanted, he had to pick three dozen of the most vibrant ocean lilies that the island had to offer.
His trip and preparations had taken most of the night and by the time he returned to the beach he'd been exhausted. The hedgehog was still passed out when he returned, so the fox opted to sleep himself, as he had a busy day ahead of him.
The fox had awoken late in the morning, much later than usual. He frantically checked to ensure the hedgehog was gone, then pulled his supplies out from behind the bushes to begin his day.
As he had for four days now, the fox happily took two of the six leftover chili dogs within the brown paper bag and munched on his meal of the day, stirring the paint as he did so to make sure it had the right consistency and color.
Then, with a homemade brush from wood and finely threaded pine needles, the fox began the plane's paint job.
It was late afternoon and close to the time that the hedgehog would return. The fox was nearly done with painting; he had a few touch-ups on the panel, where he had to be extra careful to not paint over the white trim.
His ears were vigilant, however, as he waited for the telltale sonic boom he had grown accustomed to.
"What are you doing?"
The sudden voice thundered in the kit's ears and his painting hand stuttered on the hull of the plane. Thankfully, the blue pigment missed the white trim.
The fox did not turn around. A million thoughts of what was going to happen next flashed through the kit's mind and he bolted under the plane and back towards the forest.
He did not get far: a quick breeze and a plume of sand later, the fox found himself standing face-to-face with the blue hedgehog, effectively blocking him from his escape route.
The traveler's foot tapped impatiently and his arms were crossed over himself.
The sudden stop in his escape attempt caused the vulpine to fall backwards on his butt and he stared at the hedgehog with wide, terror-stricken eyes.
All of those happy thoughts the fox had, with the friendly hedgehog that he had managed to help in exchange for a few chili dogs, were gone. This was reality, one which the fox had tried fiercely to prevent happening. He had let his guard down and now he would pay the price.
His eyes clenched shut tightly and he hunched over himself, afraid to try and run again. He knew all too well that the speedy Mobian would catch him in the blink of an eye.
"Kid, you all right?"
A hand came across his shoulder and the fox yelped involuntarily. He jumped, batted the hand away before it could take a hold of him, and somehow found the adrenaline to get up and run like he never had before.
He made it to the forest and well beyond. His breathing was rapid and shallow from fear and he paid no mind to the bushes and shrubbery that he skidded by.
His lack of cautiousness, however, left him vulnerable to the other threats of the island.
With a sudden jolt, the fox felt something hit his neck hard. He fell back onto the ground with an, "Oomph!" and could not make any more sounds because his vocal chords had been hit in the process. A pair of rough hands grabbed him and yanked him back up into a standing position, far before he was ready.
"You're not supposed to be on the beach," a familiar voice growled.
The fox had trouble swallowing, his neck still reeling from the crash. He looked up fearfully and met eyes with a large jackal cub. In the kit's haste and recklessness he had run straight into the arms of the bullies.
SLAP!
The fox felt tears flood his eyes from the hit across his cheek.
"Don't make eye contact!"
The fox quickly returned his gaze to the floor, the sting in his face still sharp and his neck screaming in pain from the bending he was doing to it. His arms were still being held by two other islander children and, from staring at the ground, the vulpine could see two additional sets of feet besides the jackal.
"We saw you out on the beach, graffitiing that plane. Do you even know whose plane that is?"
The fox did not respond, though he wasn't sure if he could at this point. His neck was tight and felt swollen from the abrupt crash.
"Of course he wouldn't," another voice drawled.
"Sonic saw you, you know," the jackal said, poking the fox in the shoulder aggressively. "If he knew this village is cursed he would probably never come back!"
"Well, you got about half of that right."
The fox recognized the new voice and found the courage to look up with the rest of the children at the hedgehog that had entered the clearing. His stance was different than when he'd caught the vulpine escaping: his hands were balled in tight fists by his sides and a fierce frown was etched in his brow.
"Let the kid go," the hedgehog growled.
"Sonic!" the jackal exclaimed, nervous excitement lining his voice. "I'm really sorry about your plane! We were just trying to help catch the—"
Sonic, as he was called, took a step forward and interrupted: "Enough. Let him go, now."
The jackal looked back to the two children holding the kit—another fox and a raccoon—and nodded to them. They released their grip on the tiny fox's arms, allowing the child to stand on his own. Instinct had him bring his hands to his throat to inspect it, but a quick glance at the jackal's glare towards him made him stop immediately, returning his arms and gaze to the floor.
The jackal fully turned to the blue hedgehog. "You do realize what he did to your plane, right? He's an outcast on this island and does nothing but cause trouble around here."
"Funny, seems like you're the one causing trouble."
The other fox crossed his arms defiantly. "Are you kidding me? He's a mutant! My dad says that his tails bring bad luck to our village and attract demons."
The fox in question swallowed hard and kept his stare on the grass floor. His hands trembled at his sides and his notorious tails were pressed together tightly, dragging along the ground.
A scoff escaped the hedgehog's lips. "The only demon you guys have to worry about is Robotnik, and don't expect me to come save your hides when he finds you."
The islanders were silenced at that remark and looked at each other before turning their attention back to the hedgehog. "But I thought you defeated Robotnik…?"
The traveler only scowled at them. "I guess only time will tell. Now scram."
The islanders nor the tiny fox moved, the former clique still stupefied by the hedgehog's obvious disdain of them and the latter too afraid to move and catch an unwanted reaction from the bullies.
The hedgehog didn't seem to care. "I said scram before I make you scram!"
His hostile shout was enough to get the entire group to scramble. The islanders bolted back towards the beach and the tiny fox wasted no time escaping in the opposite direction.
There was a chainsaw sound again and the fox finally realized that it was caused by the hedgehog gaining speed on the leafy ground. His breathing was erratic from his neck, so when he found himself face-to-face with the hedgehog again he could not cry out in surprise. He bumped into the blue Mobian at full speed—which wasn't very fast at the moment—and fell backwards with another quiet, albeit raspy "Oomph!"
"Kid, I meant for those bullies to scram, not you."
The fox did not reply. He was breathing heavily, his fear still strong but waning slightly from the hedgehog's actions a few minutes ago. He was still seated on the forest floor, one arm propping himself up and the other instinctively massaging his neck. He peeked up at the hedgehog watching him, unsure of what to do.
"Is your neck okay?" the blue Mobian finally asked, kneeling down to the kit. "Why are you rubbing it?"
The fox took a deep breath and coughed, feeling the muscles spasm but eventually ease up. He stopped rubbing it and warily watched the hedgehog as he scooted back a few inches. "I'm okay," he finally said. His voice was rough, but seemed to be clearing up quickly enough.
The hedgehog frowned. "Did they do something to your neck?"
The fox shook his head vigorously, then regretted the decision when he felt the soreness in his muscles. He swallowed heavily and tucked his legs under himself, his tails automatically coming to rest over his feet.
The traveler watched the fox's reaction, still kneeling in front of him. He opted to not press the kit for more information and said instead, "Those are some pretty cool tails."
The vulpine could not stop a flinch from escaping at the last word and turned his head away.
Silence reigned for a few moments before the hedgehog added, "I don't care what those stupid kids told you. You're not a curse and your tails are not bad luck. That's the dumbest thing I've ever heard and, trust me—when you fight Robotnik you hear some pretty dumb stuff."
There was still no response and eventually the hedgehog sighed. "My name's Sonic. What's yours?"
The fox's arms wrapped around himself as he stared listlessly at the forest floor. He could feel the aggravation in the hedgehog's demeanor and he still couldn't find the courage to say anything.
"Are you hungry?"
Sudden thoughts of chili dogs and the memory of their taste for the past few days finally brought the kit's gaze back to the hedgehog—or Sonic, as he'd been formally introduced.
Sonic smiled at that small reaction. "I have some more chili dogs at my campsite, if you're interested."
The fox's eyes inadvertently darted around, still hesitant of an unforeseen trap. But it was just Sonic and him in the clearing; no bullies, no islanders, no tricks.
"They're hot this time, too."
His eyes darted back to Sonic in surprise, followed by fear. "You … knew?" he finally squeaked, his voice still not quite at a hundred percent.
Sonic shrugged as he stood back up, offering his hand to the fox. "I knew someone was eating them and I found it peculiar that they'd only eat some of them." He emphasized his hand gesture to prompt the fox. "Come on kid, let's go eat some dinner."
Hunger, as it usually did, won out and the fox carefully placed his hand in Sonic's, allowing the hedgehog to pull the vulpine to his feet.
The fox pulled his hand away immediately, but not angrily. Touch was a foreign feeling to him and his instincts told him to avoid it at all costs.
Sonic didn't seem to take offense, but a concerned expression seemed to shadow his features. He walked a few steps forward and turned, making sure the kit would follow.
With only a brief delay of uncertainty, the child trailed after him.
"Eat until you're full."
The fox had already eaten two of the chili dogs and could not believe how much better they were when the chili was steaming. He hesitated after his second dog, however, causing the hedgehog to speak up and nudge him when he noticed.
He pulled out a third chili dog for the fox and offered it to him. "You need more than two. Eat."
The fox didn't understand what that meant, but he wasn't about to turn down a third helping. He grabbed the dog gently, mumbled a, "Thank you," and quickly began devouring the savory morsel.
Sonic chuckled a little and continued eating his own sizeable portion of chili dogs.
The fire was glowing brightly, with the sun nearly at the horizon. The paint job of the plane was a pristine ocean blue and nearly matched the hedgehog's memorable fur color. The kit couldn't help but smile to himself at how much newer the plane looked.
"I like the color," Sonic mumbled, seemingly reading the fox's thoughts. He looked up at the hedgehog and back at the plane, smiling even more.
"I have to ask though, why'd you want to paint it?"
The vulpine finished up his third dog and, before he could even swallow, the hedgehog had handed him a fourth. He took it and swallowed the last of his previous bite. "So you'd know your plane was fixed," he answered simply, munching into the fourth dog a little more slowly this time.
Sonic's mid-bite had stopped abruptly at the fox's words. He pulled the chili dog away from his mouth and arched an eyebrow. "What?"
The little fox's mouth was full again, however, and he used his head to nod towards the plane. "You ca' f'y," he tried to mutter out.
The hedgehog stared at the plane, then at the fox, and back at the plane. He carefully set his half-eaten chili dog on its wrapper and walked up to the biplane, circling it. On the other side, he opened the panel and inspected it briefly before jumping up into the cockpit. He glanced down at the fox, who was staring at him while he chewed.
The hedgehog paused, then turned the engine on. It purred to life without a hitch.
He laughed shortly as he turned off the engine, then laughed again almost hysterically, but at a lower volume. He jumped out of the plane and ran up to the fox, startling him and causing him to involuntarily back up.
"You fixed my plane!" Sonic yelled excitedly.
The fox was taken aback by the sudden shift in attitude and wasn't quite sure if it was safe or not. He held on to the last quarter of his fourth chili dog tightly, but stayed tense and ready to bolt if needed.
Sonic seemed to recognize his uncertainty, however, because he calmed down and kneeled in front of the kit. "Keed, you fixed my plane. Thank you."
He nodded at the blue Mobian timidly.
Sonic shook his head disbelievingly, but smiled nonetheless as he sat back down and resumed eating. "I can't believe a little kid fixed my plane." He looked at his dog and back at the fox. "You're fast too, you know."
The kit cocked his head at him and replied, "Huh?"
Sonic nodded and took a bite of his food, swallowing quickly. "Yeah, when you ran off from the plane you were makin' wind. Your tails were spinning like crazy."
The fox's ears folded back at the mention of his appendages. He only used his tails like that when he was running away from things and hadn't realized that the hedgehog had seen that.
"Why do you get so sad at the mention of your tails? You shouldn't hate them."
The fox looked up at Sonic quickly, then looked back down at his tails. "I don't hate them," he answered quietly.
"Then what is it?"
"When others talk about them, I usually get hurt." He looked up at the hedgehog, eyes slightly glassy. "You're the only one that's said something nice about them."
When the fox met the hedgehog's eyes, he saw the concerned expression that he had seen earlier.
"They give you that black eye?" Sonic finally found his voice.
The kit turned away and did not answer.
"Stop protecting them, keed."
The fox was still, then finally nodded.
"And the neck? You got some bruises showing up under the fur."
He nodded again, once.
"They said you were an outcast. Does that mean you're alone out here?"
The fox could not muster the strength to meet the hedgehog's eyes. He simply nodded again.
"No parents?"
A shake of the head this time.
"How long have you been out here, keed? You look like you haven't had a decent meal since last summer."
"Th—three and a half seasons."
Sonic paused, thinking. "So about a year?"
The fox shrugged. "I think so. I don't like keeping track of the days," he added softly.
"Where were you before?"
The fox looked back up the hedgehog. "An orphanage, I think. Not in this village."
"How'd you wind up here?"
Another shrug. He looked away, back at the last bite of his fourth dog. "All I remember is needing to get away. I … I think bad things were happening to the town, but I just ran."
The hedgehog frowned at him. "Keed, do you know how old you are?"
"Five."
The hedgehog's eyes widened. "Five? You're only five?"
The fox watched the hedgehog apprehensively. "I think I might be six soon, I've been five since I left the orphanage."
Sonic took a shaky breath. "Jeez, keed. You talk like an adult, you fixed my plane with who knows what, and you got two tails that let you run faster than most of the idiots on this island. What the hell made 'em think you were a curse?"
"Bad things followed me."
The hedgehog turned his head abruptly. "Bad things? You mean—"
"Robots," the fox finished. "They were chasing me, I think. And we still get some, occasionally."
"Robotnik," Sonic growled to himself. "I can't escape that man no matter where I go."
The fox watched the hedgehog's change in demeanor, but recognized the name from earlier. "He's the one you defeated?" he asked.
Sonic smiled sardonically. "I put an end to his plans, but he wasn't defeated. He got away."
"They're his machines?"
Sonic nodded. "Yeah, he makes droves of them and takes over villages." The hedgehog paused, then looked at the fox sadly. "That's most likely what made you run away from the orphanage."
"His machines have good parts, but their designs are very flawed."
"How do you know that?" Sonic asked incredulously.
"Some I took apart and some the villagers did. They'd throw the remains away in the salvage yard."
"I guess that's how you got to learn about machines so early?"
The kit shrugged. "I've always liked seeing how things work." He popped the last bite of his chili dog in his mouth, chewed, and swallowed heavily. "I think I'm full now."
Sonic smiled as he finished up the last of his own hot dog. "Good, you needed a filling meal." He stood up and walked over to the plane, opening up a storage compartment. "I don't have an extra sleeping bag, but I got a blanket in here. You're pretty small, so you can probably stretch out in the cockpit pretty comfortably. What do you say?" He pulled out the blanket in question and held it out for the fox.
The kit looked at it and back at the hedgehog. "I … I have a home, it's okay. You don't have to do that."
Sonic watched the fox for a few moments, contemplating. He took the blanket and walked back to the fox, sitting down next to him. "You said you've been out here three seasons now?"
The fox nodded. "Three and a half."
"How was the winter?"
The kit was silent as he looked to the ground. "Cold," he lamely answered.
"How'd you get food? Not much growing at that time, I imagine."
The fox flinched and his hands rubbed together nervously. "I didn't steal, if that's what you're asking."
Sonic was quiet. "Keed, I didn't mean it like that. But, however you got your food, it wasn't easy I imagine. Or safe, since so many of those bullies are around here."
Memories of the winter began plaguing the fox's mind. Cold, shivering nights … a bad infection from a punch that had broken skin … and scavenging through icy trash cans for anything edible.
Not all of the villagers hated him as bad as the bullies. Most were indifferent to his existence, but a few of them knew about his ingenuity, and once or twice they'd seek him out at the salvage yard to repair some of their gadgets in exchange for food.
It had saved his life each time it had happened, but it did not happen often enough. When things got especially bad last winter, he had taken note of the homes with plenty of food to spare. He had watched them carefully and—since his access to their homes was limited to the backyard or an open garage—he had taken opportune moments to "break" something of theirs.
His victims were friends of the ones that had sought help from him and he desperately hoped word of mouth would bring those victims to him with the machines he had broken.
It worked every time.
He had only done it three times throughout the course of the winter, but he had nearly gotten caught at the last break-in. When you were already weakened from the cold weather and lack of food, sneaking around became a much harder feat to accomplish.
Tears welled up in the fox's eyes. The thought of another winter terrified him.
"Hey," Sonic whispered to him, scooting next to the fox. "I'm sorry, buddy. I didn't mean to … I just was trying to make a point," he tried to explain.
The kit sniffled and wiped at the tears that threatened to fall from his eyes. "What point?" he finally asked, glancing at the hedgehog.
Sonic's eyes were sympathetic as he watched the fox. "I was trying to offer you a ride off this island."
Teary eyes widened into surprise. "You'll take me with you?" he asked, his voice rising in disbelief.
The hedgehog seemed to reach out as if to place a hand on his shoulder, but stopped. Instead, he opted to hand the kit the blanket still in his arms. "I have a pretty big place in the Mystic Ruins. Big garage too, for the plane. I figure you can hang out there for a while, get some meat back on your bones, and decide what you want to do from there."
He stared up at the hedgehog, then turned his attention to the blanket, contemplating. Taking a moment to find the courage, he finally asked, "You're … you're not trying to trick me?" With the question he looked back up and began searching the hedgehog's reaction for signs of deceit.
An unknown expression crossed the hedgehog's features, something the fox wasn't familiar with. This time the hedgehog did reach an arm out and wrap it around the kit's shoulders. The fox startled at the touch, but resisted the urge to pull away.
Once his instincts subsided, the fox realized that the touch was comforting; warm. It was so foreign to him and yet he cherished it more than the chili dogs he'd eaten.
"Two Tails, I promise you I'm not tricking you. I want you to come with me and—frankly—I don't want you to ever have to see this island again."
The fox leaned into the hedgehog's outstretched arm and in turn Sonic hugged the kit to his side. "I mean it, keed. What do you say?"
His tails twitched behind him and he simply nodded into the hedgehog's side. "Okay," he finally said.
Sonic squeezed his hand on the kit's shoulder and grinned.
"Why'd you call me 'Two Tails'?" the kit finally asked, looking up at the hedgehog.
He shrugged in response. "Well, you haven't given me your name yet, so I figured I'd call you by your best feature instead."
The fox smiled shyly. "I like it," he answered.
Sonic laughed lightly. "Well then, Two Tails it is." He paused, then hummed. "Well, honestly, Tails might be easier. Two Tails might be a bit redundant." The hedgehog snapped out of his mini diversion and looked down at the fox. "Is Tails acceptable?"
The fox's grin grew. "Tails is even better."
"Awesome! Well, Tails, I don't know about you, but I'm ready to hit the sack." He offered the blanket to the fox, who took it from him. Sonic then offered his hand and the kit tucked the blanket under one of his arms before accepting it.
Helping the fox up, Sonic guided him over to the plane's wing and turned to him. "Need a lift?"
The fox—going by Tails now—smiled nervously at Sonic. He had one more trick up his sleeve and for once in his life he didn't feel afraid to show it to his new friend. "No thanks," he said simply.
His tails twisted together, then began spinning rapidly. With a light whir, Tails' namesakes had lifted him off the ground as if they were helicopter blades. With a quiet ascent, Tails went over the biplane's wing and landed squarely inside the cockpit.
Sonic's mouth was agape and he stood dumbfounded as he watched the fox.
"You—you—"
Tails, hoping for a positive response, was beginning to worry at Sonic's expression. His smile faltered and he started to hug the blanket tighter instinctively.
"You flew! You can fly!" Sonic finally found his voice and excitedly jumped on the biplane's wing. "Seriously, keed, that's like—that's gotta be the coolest thing I've ever seen!"
"R-really?" the fox asked, relief flooding through his body. He shakily put the blanket down on the pilot's seat before turning back to Sonic. "It's very useful," he timidly added when the hedgehog just stood there smiling at him with his arms crossed.
"I bet," Sonic responded good-naturedly. "You're a pretty impressive kid, you know that?"
Tails shook his head at the statement, even as he felt embarrassment for not simply accepting the compliment. "Thanks for letting me sleep here," he quickly changed the subject, turning to unfold the blanket he had been given.
It was soft and well woven and made his ratty blankets back home look like pieces of parchment. When Sonic did not respond, he nervously looked back at the wing of the plane, afraid he had offended the hedgehog.
That same, odd expression was on Sonic's face as he watched Tails, one of his hands on his waist and the other dangling at his side. The expression was hard to describe, both because Tails had never seen it on anyone's face before, and because he wasn't sure of the appropriate word for it.
"Did I … say something wrong?" Tails weakly asked, worried that he had already messed up this amazing opportunity.
"Nah, Tails, it's okay," he finally answered, shaking his head at something—himself?—before jumping off the wing of the plane and returning to his sleeping bag. "I just realized that it's going to take a lot of work."
"What's going to take a lot of work?" the fox curiously asked, settling onto the pilot's seat and wrapping the ends of the blanket around him so he was cocooned in its warm embrace.
"To make you a happy kid again."