Chapter Two

His place to hunt prey, his place to rule all, until the day the Feral King falls.

It had been his place to rule these lands.

He didn't remember how he'd gotten here. The lands had lain unclaimed, and he'd roamed free in this territory, killing when hungry. Not even the neighboring wolves could contest his will here. As far back as he could remember, he was larger than others of his kind. Red foxes were normally small, barely under two-thirds the size of a wolf. Not him, though: on all fours, he was barely smaller than a fully adult wolf on theirs as well. Standing two-legged, he was only a half-head shorter than any wolf he'd met previously.

Either way, it made no difference how others looked at it. His size had allowed him more territory, letting him hunt freely. The wolves however, liked to flex their pack leader's will from time to time in other nearby territories. Not his though, because in him they found something they dared not touch.

A threat.

The last time they'd tried to enter his domain, he'd warned off the pack beta. Purposefully out of sight in a downwind mint bush on all four legs and primed for an ambush, he was curious what their reaction would be. The wolf didn't disappoint and strode further inwards with the confidence befitting only an apex predator. That'd been his cue. Built for stealth rather than force, he'd managed to catch the pack beta unawares. That was far more than enough.

He'd come from the right, making it to within two paces before the beta wolf had noticed. By then it was too late to stop him...though it was more than enough. The fox had made his mark, tearing the muscle and sinew of a shoulder and foreleg before quickly darting away. The wound was deep enough that it would serve as an apt warning for the rest of his pack, as well as a permanent reminder to this wolf. In a couple of moments, it was over, and he was in front of them, just outside of their striking range.

With the taste of iron on his tongue and a drop of blood falling from his muzzle, the fox spoke. "That was your warning, wolf. I may be solitary, but I will defend my hunting grounds until death." The expressions were expected; the beta had never seen a fox his size. Add that to cunning, stealth, and being omnivorous, and these wolves faced a true contender to defend his lands.

"Where do you hail from, fox? I smelled your arrival, though you haven't marked your paces. By all accounts, this is free land. Any can hunt here if they wish, but my pack are its overseers. Besides, you're a fox. You don't need the full inland territory." The beta wolf spat the last sentence, his muzzle twitching as he ignored the urge to lick open wounds and show weakness — something the fox knew much about.

"I only just arrived three moons ago. You caught me while I was still measuring my paces. You'd understand that a fox my size requires far more territory. I chose this place because it has the small piece of riverside to the east and dense woods to the north."

"While that is fair, red one, our pack can't just let you claim the entire territory. Smaller prey's paths run through here towards the lake at the mouth of that river you desire to claim. We cannot allow you to stop the prey from reaching our lands. You'd be wise to agree with us before the alpha gets involved." The wolf looked stern but worried, just as the fox planned. If the beta alerted the alpha, then it would mean he was showing cowardice and would most likely be replaced. But if this wolf believed that it was necessary to threaten a mere fox, then the alpha must be well respected.

"I never said that I'd hunt for the pleasure. I will obviously only hunt for my meals, and everything else would be free to pass to other territories as they see fit. Do you think me so low as to steal prey from other's mouths? At most you'll only see a slight drop in smaller prey and a few larger. I am but a single fox, after all." Smirking, he looked dead-on at the beta, goading him to challenge the sound logic.

"We will see, fox. I accept your terms, but fail to defend and it'll be your fur for your land." The decree was made. "I, Howlford, second to Alpha Wolford of the Barkmane Pack, issue a command of the pack. The free territory between the dense woods and the river-turn is now hunting grounds for the fox. Whose name is?"

"I have no current name. You may refer to me how you will." He smirked again. "King would do nicely, though." He knew they wouldn't dare call him that, but the opportunity to taunt the now-named Howlford was too easy.

A low growl of contempt and the wolf continued. "Red, and he shall mark his territory within the next moon or it will remain free of his hunts." Looking to the fox again, Howlford's eyes burned like embers on coal. He turned away and continued into the brush silently. The four followed, and several gusts of wind later, they were gone, the only reminder of the meeting being several spots of blood on the grass.

That had been their introduction to his lands.

And he would stay true to his word. Prey could enter it — and his stomach — freely, but no other predators would encroach. He didn't doubt that he was lucky. Red was large, but that fact alone should not have earned him such a commensurately large domain. Any sign of laziness and they wouldn't hesitate to claim his land as their own. He intended to keep all of his territory, and he would kill to protect it.

Speaking of killing.

The squirrel beneath Red was a fat one. It squirmed and writhed in foolhardy attempts to escape. His paw was firmly pinning it down, crushing both its body and its will. It tried to play dead and other tricks to have him leave—. None of this mattered. He needed to eat, and this squirrel was meat.

A quick snap of his maw and the squirrel's neck was broken. It was still fresh as he ate, but only part of his meal was done. He still needed to drink, and the river was a ways off. The sun was still eight paws from the horizon; he still had time. Taking an average pace, he began his trip, the blood on his muzzle beginning to coagulate.

Something on my right. His head snapped to the movement and saw nothing. He drew a long sniff, and again, nothing. The sounds of running water brought him out of his stare into the shrubbery. He'd arrived at the river. He drank freely and washed himself, lest other predators smell him from their own claimed lands. Still, Red wondered, what'd been in those bushes that wouldn't leave a scent?

Soon, he'd find out.

He woke up during the storm, the boulder above his den providing ample cover as a roof. The entrance location —slightly above ground in the side of a hill— was perfect for keeping any water out. His dreams were perturbed by the whispers of some otherworldly creatures. Red didn't fear the storms; rather, he respected them. He would do whatever it took to avoid being awake during the downpours, lest he hear the whispers. They would speak of unknown things that he didn't understand.

"Careful with him, Cynthia, we're not even halfway done with him yet. How are his vitals?"

"Good, Doctor. His breathing is steady and his pulse is strong. The decontamination of the pod should be done by now, just need to check on his progress."

"Before you do that, read me his height and weight."

Red searched around his position in the back of the den, slitted eyes searching to no avail, already knowing his efforts would be fruitless. Sounds around him muted again as the storm spoke louder.

"Weight, one hundred and seven pounds. Height, four feet, ten inches. Dimensions for his species are still normal in proportion for him. For any fox though, he's massive already. If this pattern of growth keeps up, we should see up to one hundred fifty percent increase in his overall capability and mass.

"Good, let's get him back into the pod. Set the next decontamination and check-up for this day next month."

He opened his eyes and could see everything as it was only minutes before. Sound returned to him as the mutterings fled. The storm was still raging outside, which always brought the voices. He could understand the words but never their meaning.

Looking around, he felt that something was off. It was not the sharp fear that would come with an intruder: With the hollowed log serving as an entrance, no creature — neither predator nor prey — would find its way into his well-constructed den. However, like any successful predator, the need to check for intruders was strong. He listened to his instincts and went to the entryway.

He saw it, or rather her, standing there. An amethyst rabbit with eyes of light. Somehow, he knew it was a she, another instinct shouting it out from his gut. She stood there unafraid of him, despite his size and the fact the he was her natural predator. "I could catch you and kill you right now if I felt so inclined. So you'd best tell me why you're here," he demanded.

She looked at him with those glowing eyes then suddenly turned and leapt out into the storm. He darted forward, more out of curiosity than hunger. Why would the rabbit contend with Mother Nature? She existed only for an instant more. A flash of lightning, the roll of thunder, and she was gone.

Red had tried to sleep that night, but foxes were curious by nature. He pondered who — or what — this new creature was. Made of amethyst crystal, and those glowing white eyes... when he fell asleep, she ran in his dreams, too.

After that night, he began to see something always at the edges of his vision. He told himself that it was nothing, but he knew better. It was that rabbit; she was there and knew when he would almost see her. How she knew, Red didn't know. She would only appear during his hunts. Just before he would ambush the prey, he'd notice her on the fringe of his sight. It almost looked like she was… studying his hunts.

Still, after several weeks of this, he stopped paying attention to the shadow that came during his hunting time. He began to think she wouldn't go beyond having him always almost see her. Even though he never actually saw her, he still knew. His instincts were screaming that it was her. Several times, Red felt the need to sniff her out, but he could never find her. With that, he put thoughts of the rabbit into the back of his mind and eventually forgot about her...though she would still be there, watching him.

The cool mornings turned to more humid, heat-filled ones as the air warmed and the season changed. His hunts now ran closer to his piece of the river, since prey had to drink more with the heat of the glaring sun. This time it was a mouse, fat from the generous bounty of the past season.

He'd gotten to within several paces when he noticed. From his position underneath a dead tree, he saw the rabbit, no longer on the edges of his vision but now behind and to the right of his prey. With all of his hunts and escapades, she'd fallen to the back of his mind. Yet, here she was again, watching him with those eyes of light.

Figuring it'd be like all those other times he prepared to take down his prey, who —still focused on its drink— was entirely unaware of its fate. Motion caught his attention from where the rabbit was, and his eyes narrowed. This rabbit was nearing his prey! Once she'd gotten around ten paces away, she stopped.

The prey noticed her and for a moment he thought it might run, but the prey didn't think anything of another prey creature being there. She looked directly at Red, almost as if asking him, "Are you sure you want to do this?"

Red answered by pouncing forward and snapping up the mouse in his jaws, its death instant. Hunger overtook him and he began to eat. After a few seconds, he looked up to find that the rabbit was actually watching him curiously. Unconsciously —but only for a second— he knew that eating this prey was wrong. But when the taste hit his tongue, her look did not matter anymore. The rabbit was still watching him when he left the scene of his meal, and he felt her...disappointment. He scoffed at the thought, as if that thing could feel anything. It wasn't even alive!

The next hunts of his were filled with the rabbit, much closer though still at a visible distance like before. Days began to grow ever-so-slightly longer as the season changed, though not before the season-ending storm arrived.

The morning was a brutal one, as Red had sniffed out the coming rain the night before and prepared to what he figured was adequate. The previous day, he'd been busy with three extra hunts, curious rabbit and all. The prizes were two mice and a small snake, which were now lying in the darkest corner of his den in the storeroom.

The rain was ceaseless and buffeted anything that dared venture outside. This time he was ready, waking up just as the rains began to intensify. His eyes were focused on the ten-pace tunnel to his sleeping hollow, watching for an expected intruder. She would come with the storm to his den, and then the voices would stop all his thoughts. He couldn't end them, but he could brace for it.

A telltale flash from the crack of lightning and she was there at the entryway, already looking at him. She couldn't see him, at least Red hoped she couldn't. The rabbit was prey for as much as a creature not of this world could be. She hopped along the tunnel over several moments and merely waited for Red as soon as she reached the mouth of his sleeping area. They stared at each other until the roll of thunder caused him to act first.

Against his better judgement he spoke, "What do you want, rabbit?"

Immediately, she turned to him, and he felt the whispers of voices coming into his mind. He braced for the sudden impact and the storm delivered. The world and storm became muted as the voices spoke in earnest now.

"You knew that it'd come to this, Doc...you knew because it was written in the contract I offered you! Don't go off on some moral high ground just because of the circumstances! Ferre Hartel didn't have any qualms about offering others the chance to make a breakthrough in modern medical science. Neither should you."

"Even if I wanted to from the beginning, I won't risk his life for some experiment on top of what I'm already doing! I can do everything else, but this is off the table. It's just too dangerous."

"You know as well as I do that there are too many benefits to this procedure. It cannot be left behind. You either complete it in full or the contract is terminated, regardless of your progress."

"You wouldn't—that'd kill him!"

"I won't have to, I know you'll accept. You have too much to lose here, but he has even more to gain from what you can do. Do you really want to just leave him to die in whatever hell you've left him in? "

There was a pause for another thunderclap before the voice made its choice.

"Damnit! Fine!"

"I was hoping you'd say that."

"But, we go one step further: I don't want him relying on any external machines. If I do this, he gets to live normally, look normal, and feel as normal as possible with everything we're about to do. We also use the prototypes -— the stable ones."

Red felt odd, as if the voices were closer, and he suddenly felt cold. He was laying down on something hard. He must've fallen asleep, and the voices had invaded his dreams. It was strange though...he could swear that his body was waking up.

"Ha! What makes you think I'll let you load him up with that much tech? Half of those are barely out of the beta phase. Sure, it's guaranteed safe, but the costs are exponentially higher. C'mon, be realistic here."

"I'm being perfectly realistic here. You know damn well he's the best chance you've got at any success with these experiments of yours. It's been a year since we've gotten him, and all the others before him died long before this point. You don't want to get rid of him. No, you want to know that it'll work so you can use it for this petty war of yours."

"And who are you to say what I do or don't want? I hired you for this, and I can fire you just the same. Are we clear?"

"No, we're not. I sent him to this place -—I brought him here myself. Without my assistance, this project of yours would've never left the planning stages. I choose which prototypes or I walk with him and you're left with less than you started. Are we clear?"

"Fine, have it your way. But you start within the week, whether he's stable or not."

"Not possible. I need to get him back under his meds again. He's already been out here too long. If I start too soon, his odds are five to one against at best. No."

"If you don't do it, he won't fare much better."

"What do you mean?"

"You have the capability to save his life, and yet you're choosing for him to die."

"That's different—you're forcing my hand! You think I want to do this?! If I agree, he'll most likely die! If I don't, he will die!"

"Then do something about it. The circumstances are bad, but I'm still giving you the option, so choose. Do it quickly as well."

"Dammit. Damn you! I accept, but do not think I agree with this. You'll pay for this; it always comes around."

"I look forward to it. Now make sure he's ready in a week and get on with it."

Red didn't know what kind of sick dream this was. He couldn't open his eyes or move his arms and legs. With his body less numb now, though, he began to struggle against some unseen restraints. There was a startled cry.

"I told you! It's not possible, and we need to get him back under NOW!"

Red heard metal clatter against the ground, and a few moments later, something sharp was inserted into the right side of Red's neck. Red's eyes widened slightly at the pain, and he saw shining white walls and glistening bright lights. On his right was another red fox —smaller than him— removing the thing that must've caused him pain. Behind the fox was a white tiger.

Said fox looked panicked, but spoke anyways. "It's alright! Relax! We're not here to hurt you."

"Then why did you cause me pain? Seems odd that you state one thing yet do another."

The fox walked over to the end of the room and dropped whatever the thing was into a hazardous waste bin. "It's to help you relax. Just give it a few more seconds."

He was wary now. What did this fox mean? Before he could voice his opinion, however, the drowsiness him like a full-speed boar. "What? What have you done to me, fox?" I need to wake up!

"You'll be back to what you know shortly...it'll be over soon, don't worry." The fox was trying to reassure, but it only made the final moments worse.

"I'll find both of you, mark my words." And white walls gave way to black.

He woke up sweating, panting, and his throat hurt, as if he had been yelling back against the great storm. Though the clouds were dark and the sky was gray, his instincts told him it was daytime. He had been right to hunt extra. The surplus of food would come in handy, as the storm had been raging all night while he faced the voices in that hellish nightmare. Red didn't think the downpour would end anytime soon.

Red spent the rest of the day holed up in his den mulling over the meaning of the nightmare while waiting out the rains. Did that nightmare have a meaning? Who were those mammals? Do I know them? How did I know that was a hazardous waste bin? What even is a 'hazardous waste bin'?

Eventually, it came time to eat and rest, and the storm continuing during his meal.

The storm ended as the moon rose the next day. His food supply had been finished that morning, so once the rains had ended, he'd been out and about looking for prey. Something felt off though, more than the last time. Red's body was now changed in some way, but he didn't know how. The weather was getting colder, a telltale sign of the coming fall and winter. He'd a feeling the season would be interesting. No sign of that rabbit.

The first half of the season passed uneventfully, and the storms lessened. But each rain brought more sayings and voices. Red thought that was the end of the rabbit.

He was wrong.

He was in another shrub, set to ambush another prey creature, when the rabbit interrupted his hunt. She came in and threw her small body at him. Though she didn't weigh much, it was enough to startle and tip him over. This scared off his prey, and he was livid.

Instinctual rage had him turning on the rabbit. She evaded, and the chase was on. They wound through his territory and whipped between the trees, blurs of purple and red against the greens and browns of the forest. He chased her down, closing in as the sun reached its peak in the sky, and he realized they were nearing his den. He'd come within a head's length of her when she clipped a tree root while jumping over. He heard her land harshly on the other side. This was it! He leapt over quickly but ungracefully crashed into the dirt, his snout kicking up dust.

When he tried getting up, however, he couldn't control his limbs except for his right forearm.

No longer concerned with the rabbit, he tried to lift himself up, but to no avail. Again and again, no matter how hard he willed it, his other limbs were cold and dead. Forced to lay helplessly, Red made his choice and began to drag himself to his den.

Slowly he made his way over fallen trees and roots and around brush and foliage. The sun was setting, but he was so close now! The scent of his den was faint, but he also smelled… blood?

He'd paused to examine himself when the nausea hit him. Red's eyes picked up the red on the ground behind him and followed it to his right hind leg. He forced himself to look and realize the danger now present. The top half of his thigh was split open, and his artery was cut through. Bleeding out was a guarantee if nothing was done.

How Red hadn't noticed earlier didn't matter now; he needed to move.

With a new sense of urgency, he dragged himself onwards, the pain subdued by adrenaline.

He needed to get home and fix himself up or die. He needed fire.

The moon was rising now, and he was feeling faint but kept on. He could see his den now and dragged his weak body up the hill and into his space. Once inside, he didn't let himself rest, or the walls of his den would be the last thing he ever saw. Instead, Red made his way to the meager pile of wood against the wall. With a sluggish movement, he assembled the sticks and began the process of lighting them.

Red didn't know how long had passed, but he didn't have fire and he didn't have time. "Please, sticks, I need you to work." Over and over he would get smoke, but never flames. He was too weak. With one last valiant effort, Red tried again.

He failed.

There was no fire and he would surely die. He slumped against the wall, not defeated, but tired. He no longer had the strength to continue. The last thing he felt was the stick falling out of his paw and sliding down against the wall. He needed to rest.

"Nick. Nick, you need need to wake up. You need to get better. Please."

Red woke up to heat and light. He expected pain, but there was none. Opening his eyes, Red scanned the room and saw fire and the Amethyst rabbit behind it, watching him. He checked his leg, but no wound was visible. It was as if he was never injured in the first place.

He tested his limbs and they responded just fine. Furthermore, they felt odd. He couldn't quite place it, but it was like he couldn't feel things properly anymore...more like something was telling him how they should feel.

The most important thing was his dream. He remembered his name. He stood up and looked at the rabbit, finally having some understanding of it. "Nick. My name is Nick."

The rabbit looked at him blankly.

"You have a purpose for me, rabbit. What is it? What is your name?" Nick's eyes narrowed.

The rabbit kept staring.

Nick sighed to himself and muttered, "This is going to be a long winter."