The sun began to rise and split the sky anew with light and color. The vast and empty fields waved in the breeze that leapt up the vixen's body and ruffled her fur. The woman stifled a shiver, but she couldn't for the life of her, get warm. Ever since touching that man's arm, the cold metal sapped every ounce of warmth from the tips of her ears to the bottom of her padded toes. Krystal hugged herself, trying to savor the beauty of today's sunrise a little longer, but memories even colder than her body forbade such pleasantries.

In last night's attack, four more of their own had perished, with another two who had died from wounds in the following morning hours. All her life Krystal had known those six people, grown up with them, and with their influence, became the person she was today. It takes a village to raise a child, and her village and family was shrinking every day.

Then there was that man, if he could even be called that anymore what with his limbs of metal instead of flesh. On his own, he slew those barbarians with such ease and finesse receiving only a few burns and cuts on his chest and back. And then there was Annie's premonition, denoting him as a veritable harbinger of doom for them all. What little hope the man may have had receiving a trial for his crimes was quickly evaporating.

Krystal shivered again at the thought of the man strung up to the nearest tree, his metallic limbs swaying with the rest of his body as he-

"Krystal?"

The vixen gasped, feeding the lungs she'd unknowingly beheld air from. She turned to her father, and tried to smile but to no avail. The man walked up to her and embraced her the same way he always did, ever since she was a little kit. Onyx's familiar scent finally brought a smile to her muzzle, as did the warmth from her father's black and silver fur. Somehow he always knew how to raise her spirits, even if it was only an inch off the ground.

"Father… who else did we lose?" asked the young woman even though her heart could scarce take the next wave of a very long string of misery and bad news.

Onyx hesitated and let out a sigh. "Little Lancel. The fever took him in his sleep. His mother… his mother isn't taking it very well."

Lancel's face came flashing back in front of Krystal's eyes. Though she had nothing to do with his death, she still felt an agonizing sense of guilt. The last thing she thought of the boy was how silly he was and how little she thought of him. She didn't hate him, rather she always thought he was very sweet and a fine young man. A young man that, in fleeting fancies, she wouldn't have minded settling down with once he had grown up more and matured a little. Yet he'd never get that chance with her now or anyone, it seemed.

"Oh, Father," whimpered Krystal, the tears she'd been holding back now unleashed upon her father's dirty tunic.

"There, there," Onyx cooed gently, rubbing his daughter's back as she wept. "He's with his father now."

"He didn't have to die," whimpered the vixen, her body trembling like a leaf on the final day of autumn. "He shouldn't have died! No one should have died! It's all their fault, father! I hate them! I hate them, I hate them, I hate-" Krystal cried over and over again, her grief giving way to rage.

"I know, sweetheart. I know," consoled Onyx, enveloping her mind with a comforting aura to calm her. "I hate them, too… but we can't give in to the hate. You know as well as I do what happens when one accepts wickedness and hatred into their hearts."

"But it hurts so much. I want them to hurt, too!" Krystal sobbed, rubbing her eyes on Onyx's dark green tunic.

Onyx nodded his head. "And they will, Krystal. When they stand before the gods for judgment, Arall will smite them down to the foulest pits the hells ever birthed."

'But what if they kill us all first? What if we can't stop them? They're bigger than us, stronger than us, and they have weapons far greater than ours… and their black fire,' thought Krystal in the deepest recesses of her mind so that her father wouldn't pick up on her growing sense of doom.

For a long while Krystal needed to be held and reassured by her father. By the time she had recuperated enough to finally stand on her own, the sun had leapt into the sky over the long and flat horizon. It was still not enough, however. She'd lost six more people of her tribe. Six people she'd known all her life; people who were as much family as her own father was. A mere hour or two of grieving wouldn't be enough, but that was all the time she could spare. The rest of the tribe needed her, from those still coping with loss, to those suffering from injury.

With a brave smile, Krystal and her father returned to the bulk of the tribe who were nestled under the few trees adventurous enough to leave the nourishing realm of the mountain's valley. Even as Krystal and Onyx neared the tribe however, she could feel the air had thickened into a stiff and choking miasma of pain, loss, and anger. Everyone felt at a loss, not sure what to do, save for the one man who always knew what to do.

Krystal saw Brenner moving through the village issuing orders to those of able body and mind to help the others or set out for a scavenge or a hunt. It was a very desperate situation, and tensions were running high. Often, Brenner had to assert his role as authority over a man or woman who thought of questioning him or back talking. And though it was what was needed of them, Brenner's orders were only further fanning the flames of unrest.

Yet for all the loss, pain, and fear everyone felt, there was one thing on most everyone's mind; the red fox.

It seemed that for many, in an effort to escape their own problems and strife, their minds had turned to the closest scapegoat. Even as people worked to assist the wounded, set up camp, or venture out into the open valley in search of food or game, they chose to speak of the red fox. It offered a small reprieve discussing the red fox and what was best to do with him. None could deny his role in their escape from the barbaric horde, but neither could they forget Annie's premonition.

"We should just kill him and be done with it," Krystal heard a man say to his wife as they worked tirelessly to start a small fire and cook a pathetically small bird.

"But Thiren, he saved our lives!"

"And he'll surely take them at his leisure the moment he wakes! You heard Annie's prophecy; body sewn into metal, unquenchable bloodlust! For all we know, he's dreaming of murdering us all right now!"

Krystal and Onyx began to help around the village by collecting firewood and tending to the injured where they could, yet for the young woman, she kept an ear on a swivel for any piece of gossip. It seemed that hardly anyone didn't in some way agree with Thiren's views. Though Krystal couldn't even hope to deny that the red man was indeed a great danger to everyone, she could no longer fully condemn him after all he had done for them. Surely, without his aid, everyone would have perished in the inevitable route that would have followed once the line crumbled. Perhaps a few would have survived, only to have starved later or have gone mad from such loss.

"Careful, Krystal!" Onyx gasped when the blue vixen nearly dropped a small rucksack carrying the last of their medical supplies.

"I'm sorry," apologized the young woman meekly.

Onyx frowned and imposed himself upon Krystal's outer mental walls like a hopeful guest would at outside their friend's domicile. Only ever having been rejected an audience once before, Onyx knew he would be allowed to speak with his daughter.

"Yes, Father?" asked the vixen, opening a small alcove for her father to step through.

Her father's presence within her mind was a very welcome one. It was like a mighty and familiar tree meandering into her own private garden. It brought with it comfort and unflinching love that only a father could produce for his daughter.

"Krystal… what seems to be troubling you?" asked the black and silver fox, taking a seat in their old home.

Krystal hesitated as her father's projection of their home within her own mind startled her. This was supposed to be her domain, a realm that existed only to please and serve her. Yet, her father was powerful enough to project his own desires and intentions within it.

"Father… what do you think will become of the red man?" asked the vixen, sitting down at the small wooden table with her father.

Onyx cocked an eyebrow and reached for his old mug. Though it was pointless to be drinking tea in the mental realm, it still eased the old fox and gave him a sense of nostalgia.

"We'll probably wind up killing him one way or another," Onyx admitted, putting his cup down. "We're afraid of him. Annie was always a wise woman, and her prophecies were always astute. If we don't tie a rope around his neck and hoist him up a tree, he'll die to his wounds when they fester and bring about a fever."

Krystal shivered and the world outside their old home began to freeze over. Onyx glanced out the window and saw their village begin to be brutally bashed by a winter storm. His hand reached out for Krystal's and he gently stroked his daughter's soft paw.

"Father… we can't kill him," said Krystal finally, the roaring winds starting to gain strength and rattle their small, quaint home.

"Then what do you propose we do, Krystal?" asked Onyx, his tone neither condemning nor supporting her. "He's abnormal; a threat to everyone in this village. Annie herself predicted he would lead us to ruin and that he cares not for us. In fact, he's already crossed you once before, don't you remember?"

Again Krystal shivered as her father's words wracked her mind. Though she could find no fault in Onyx's words, something still nagged her to not allow the man to perish. Truly, it was a tumultuous feeling, going against everyone in the tribe, even her own father, just for the sake of trusting and following her own instincts.

"He did… but never did he get a chance to. So he has done no wrong as of yet! He saved us, father! He saved all of us!"

"One good deed doesn't absolve a man's soul of all evil and wrongdoing," Onyx sighed.

"But… but he hasn't done anything wrong yet! Nothing we know of at least!" argued Krystal, catching a look from her father because of it.

"Krystal…" grunted the man, shifting in his chair as he thought of what he was about to say. "Why so suddenly the change of heart?"

Krystal blinked and found herself without an answer. The cold storm outside intensified, blowing on the house and making it bend to its formidable strength. Try as she might to find the reason hiding within herself, every time Krystal opened her mouth to speak, that answer faltered and became little more than mist in the cold air.

Onyx stood up from his chair before kneeling down at Krystal's feet. He took her hand and looked her right up in the eyes. When he spoke his voice was firm but comforting, almost like a purr.

"Krystal… that man, if he had been given the chance, would have raped you. He would have defiled and hurt you just because he could, and if he didn't kill you after, what would you do if you were cursed to carry his child?" asked the old man, stroking his daughter's paw reassuringly while the winter winds beat into the house and lashed the two of them. "Though he didn't necessarily hurt you, I will never forgive that man for almost hurting the most wonderful thing in my life. Krystal… if it were up to me, I'd slit his throat with an honest to gods smile on my face and watch the blood leak from his neck and the life from his eyes."

"Though I am proud of you for showing him mercy, it's only because I would never find the courage within myself to do such a thing. I want him dead more than anything. And if he did hurt you… there is nothing on this beautiful earth of ours that would have stopped me from hunting him down and destroying him from the inside out."

The blue vixen almost balked at her father's sudden dark shift. Onyx had always been a bright and cheerful soul. Rather oblivious at times even, but still loving and caring for his one and only daughter. To hear him talk of such violence and reconciliation was like touching water and finding it had the same qualities of dessert sand. Not even once in her life could she recall a time where he even raised his voice at her, even when she was misbehaving and acting like the world's most ornery little brat.

"Father," whimpered Krystal, her voice shaking from the cold and her father's dark words.

"I love you so much, Krystal," said Onyx whispered, the warmth from his aura starting to seep from his being and wrap around the vixen.

Such love her father felt made the young woman feel like she was five again, when Onyx could still lift her over his head and sit her atop her shoulders. Without another second's delay, Krystal threw herself at the man and embraced him with all her love in return. Onyx held his daughter close and smiled when the storm finally started to wane and break.

"I'll always love you, Krystal. I can still sense you're very troubled with this whole nasty affair. Just know that no matter what, I'll support you and your decisions," Onyx said making the bawling vixen smile with joy. "Now come along, there's much work to be done. The tribe needs us both to be strong."

Krystal pulled away and wiped the tears from her eyes. "Okay, father. I… I love you."

~X~X~X~X~X~X~

Reality began to fade in with every passing heartbeat. The red fox hadn't the strength to move, let alone open his eyes. In the distance he could hear shouting and screaming of a desperate crowd. Another heartbeat silenced the furor and his hearing seemed unable to once again locate anyone. Something in his mouth made him want to throw up, but then he realized it was his own tongue covered in a disgusting, foul bile accumulated by lack of proper dental hygiene over the past few weeks.

'Where… where am I- oh god damn it!' thought Fox, the same horrendous migraine from when he awoke in the lake, returned with a vengeance.

Even the very blood pumping from his heart, up through his neck, and all throughout his brain brought him untold misery. Never, not even after one of his legendary drinking and drug binges had Fox ever felt something so painful. To make it all worse, it was amplified by his severe thirst that he could feel at the back of his throat. The urge to pant came as he was boiling under what he hoped was the sun and not a fire those savages had made to either burn him alive or cook him for dinner with.

'Fuck… fuck… fuck!' the man thought every time he tried to will his body to move.

Everything, he finally realized, was agony. Though he had no control over it, it seemed every part of his body that wasn't synthetic, was aching with its own unique and rather incessant pains. His head was splitting in two from a horrific headache, his throat dying of thirst, and his torso lamented of burns, cuts, and bruises from his fight. Or should he call it a battle considering how many of those things he'd slain?

'Trapped in my own body, unable to move, see, or feel anything but pain…' he thought grimly, wondering if this time he had finally kicked the bucket or if he was to continue eking alongside the rest of the living.

In a desperate bid to escape the agonizing state of existence, Fox turned his mind to memory with zealous concentration. Though he'd been taught that pain was all in the mind and if the mind chose to refuse the pain's existence, it could help some of the pain go away, he'd always thought of this as utter bullshit. Even now, as he thought of his happiest memories, the pain was with him. Almost like a phantom limb.

Regardless, Fox clung to the small hope that his happy memories would deliver him from this torment, and he redoubled his efforts….

"I love you, Fox McCloud."

Fox smiled as the girl of his dreams whispered into his ear while he stroked the nape of her neck. Neither of them wore clothes, nor the pretense of modesty. And why would they? They'd been dating for almost two years now! Though the war still raged and burned the corpse that was once the majestic society of the Lylat system, the two foxes lay together in a now broken silence.

"I'm sorry, I think I had something cute and adorable in my ear," said Fox, flicking his ears as if they'd been hit by water. "Could you say that again?"

Fara growled playfully and sat up on her elbow, her wondrous breasts becoming visible to the eager tod.

"I said," Fara began but had to push the vulpine's sniffing snout away from her chest, "I love you, Fox McCloud."

The red fox smiled. "That was sudden… even if it's a little late."

Fara rolled her eyes and crawled atop the larger fox. Her lips pressed against his for a second before she allowed herself to lower her head and merely rest on the greatest mattress she'd ever had. One that no amount of money spent would be able to replicate or even come close to.

"I know… and I'm sorry, love," said the fennec, shivering slightly at how good it felt to say that beautiful and yet frightening word.

Fox grinned ear to ear and ran his hands all over the sandy brown back of the vixen. "I love you, too, Fara Phoenix. Though I kinda always knew."

Fara merely hummed a response and nuzzled up into the tuft of downy white chest fur right on Fox's collar bone.

"Not every girl would fly through half a star system's worth of warzone just for some good fucking," Fox went on. "You've been crazy about me for a while now."

Fara opened her lime green eyes.

"I… I had to see you, Fox," admitted the fennec. "It'd been so long without you. I needed to not just hear your voice, but to feel it on my fur, in my ear, and on my… well…"

"I'd almost forgotten how good you taste," said Fox, licking his chops. "Almost."

Despite the murr coming from within the fennec, her mood became serious and dark like a storm cloud. She looked at the man she'd come to love and held his face in her hands.

"Stay with me. Don't ever leave me again," she begged and kissed him harder than she ever had before.

Fox cringed and the pain resounded throughout his body. The memory faded and was replaced with a cold aching sense of remorse. Knowing what he knew now and having wised up to such foolishness, Fox would have given anything to have obliged her back then. Yet no matter how much she begged, cried, or screamed, he left her the next day to resume the routing of Andross' forces. Corneria, Sector Y, Katina, Aquas and Fortuna had all been liberated after months of brutal and bitter fighting. Now the Venomian forces were on the run and any delay or hiccup in hounding their heels would be just enough time for them to dig in somewhere, regroup, and resume the bloody battles and planetary sieges.

'I had so many chances… so many possibilities. We'd all but won at that point. I wasn't really needed. It was my own ego and bloodlust that made me leave… leave her,' Fox thought, his pain starting to ebb but at the cost for a new and more painful reality; one of anguish. 'Fara… you loved me so much to risk your life at every turn. The next time I saw you, you had stayed so beautiful and wonderful and I… I had changed.'

Tears began to well up in the man's opulent green eyes. Though he still had no control or even feel for his body, the man could feel himself shedding tear after tear. How his heart ached for the woman he loved. How it screamed whenever he wished for her back. This was not on her, not in the slightest. He'd left her that very day when he led the charge against the battered Venomian forces. He'd chosen his own primal emotions of hate, anger, vengeance, lust, and pleasure over the one thing in this universe that cared for him more than himself.

Millions died because of it, as did the last trace of Fox McCloud.

~X~X~X~X~X~X~

"Thank you, Miss Krystal," sang the sweet voice of a rather dirty kit.

"Any time, sweet soul," Krystal replied happily as she took the now empty bowl of water from the child.

It had been a long and grueling morning and afternoon, but it seemed that the tribe was given a moment of respite to recover and recuperate from last night's bloody encounter. Brenner had sent forward scouts both back to the mountain valley and ahead to ascertain their next move. The mountain scouts reported back with good news, saying that though the valley was a charred, ashen ruin, there were no more of those foul creatures bearing down on them. Soon after, the forward scouts reported that they couldn't see any end to the valley, though there were no signs of danger ahead. After making a quick water run to the mountain valley lake, the tribe was ready to set off once more.

With a short but loving hug, one of the village children left Krystal to be with her loving parents. Krystal's heart fluttered watching the kit pump its little legs. Her blue and white tipped tail whipping back and forth behind her with every step. Something about the gentle innocence of the child made the young woman's heart melt and yet yearn as well. Would she ever come to know the joys of having her own kits? To sire them with a man of irrefutable worth, courage, and honor?

'Such sweet things they are,' thought Krystal as the kit reached her mother's awaiting arms and embraced her lovingly.

Before Krystal could linger any longer on the heartwarming sight, a wave of movement caught her attention. Many a man and woman moved in a pack together, their eyes all carrying the same fierce fire. Krystal's breath caught in her throat when she realized some of them were carrying weapons, and one of them was carrying a noose.

"On your feet everyone! The sun is high and we must put the mountains far behind us before the sun rises next!" Brenner declared, walking through the camp and rousing the lollygaggers from the ground. "Come, people! Only a few more days of marching and we'll arrive at… Thiren! What do you think you're doing?"

The dark blue and black fox stopped and his followers stopped as well. His grip tightened on the cord of rope he carried. Though Krystal could sense reservations of opposing Brenner in Thiren's mind, his resolve would not fail nor falter.

"We are putting an end to that filth, Brenner. It has drawn breath in this world long enough!" Thiren growled, his supporters echoing similar concurrences.

Brenner opened his muzzle to reprimand Thiren and anyone who stood by him, but with one quick glance around the tribe, he knew that was a bad idea. Thiren had garnered much support in the past few hours. To deny him and most everyone in the tribe would be a precarious thing for him to do as the leader. Even Brenner himself didn't want the red fox amongst them, though something still nagged at him that their very survival depended on him.

"We need him, Thiren. If there is a bounty on his head, we'll need every scrap of gold we can get from it! If we turn him in alive, our reward is doubled! What little we have now is all we have left!" Brenner argued, trying to keep from spurring the crowd by appealing to their flared emotions.

Thiren spat on the ground. "You've seen what that thing can do! The moment it wakes up, it'll do to us what it did to those butchers! We stand no chance against such a ferocious animal! I'm putting it down before it kills us all!"

The dark fox glared at Brenner but paid him no mind. He took one step towards the tied and bound up red fox but was intercepted by the chief. Though Brenner gave the man he'd known all his life the coldest stare, Thiren was not about to falter.

"Damn it, Thiren," grunted Brenner so quietly that only the two of them could hear. "I want him dead as much as anyone, but I'm letting him live so we might also! Please, my friend. Our only hope is turning him in! Else our tribe will be left to the mercy of the city."

Thiren's ears flared back and his sapphire blue eyes softened but did not lose their fire.

"I am sorry, Bren. But I cannot let that thing endanger my family with its very existence! I don't want to undermine you, but neither will I let you stop me from killing it!" Thiren whispered back, his conviction absolute.

"Thiren," Brenner spoke, his voice about to crack with remorse for what he must do, "I order you to stand down!"

The very air began to permeate with electricity and hostility. No one dared to make a sudden movement, and only small shuffles were visible as everyone willing to take up arms to kill the red fox moved towards their weapons. In comparison to most of the tribe, only a small handful came to Brenner's side though they were Brenner's most trusted lieutenants and were armed far better than most everyone else in the village.

A whole host of the villagers flocked to Thiren's side, far outnumbering the small band backing Brenner. Thiren noticed this and his face became condescending and smug. Thiren ran the rope through his fingers until it stopped at the noose.

"It seems the people have spoken," said the hangman with a bemused chuckle.