The dark skies set in, great, coal black clouds as dark as midnight slowly blotting out the sun like a great ebony sheet.

The rumble of thunder was loud and ominous… Like a far off bellow of an ancient, enraged monster while rapid wisps of bone white lightning lit up the pitch-black skies.

And below the ominous, baleful sky. Was the very faint, flickering orange light of a rather small village, deep within the heart of a gargantuan oak forest.

This village was made up of a large multitude of rather rustic, humble abodes constructed of wood, thatch and stone. Smoke billowing from the well constructed and well weathered cobbled chimneys while inside the small homes, families huddled together close to the warm hearth. Basking in the safety their love for each other brought.

But despite this…seemingly flawless and loving village's exterior which portrayed love, kindness, warmth and affection. The village held an incredibly dark and ominous secret.

On the outside, one would think this was but an average, community based and family tied village, was in reality at it's core an incredibly twisted place which allowed the most deplorable, horrific and despicable acts to occur. All the while these "perfect" villagers didn't bat an eye or take into account the severity and heartlessness of their actions.

It was incredibly silent in the small, dark alleyway; it was to the point where even the tiniest of pin drops could seem like an echoing crescendo. Nobody in their own free merit would even bother to come down here at all, unless it was to empty their bins or perhaps to find some lost belonging.

But the important thing was that hardly anyone came down here and that was what was made it exactly what it was, an excellent place to hide.

In the corner of the dark, ominous alley. Was an old, rusted skip bin, the once bright green paint had been faded and overtaken by rust, small patches of grime and fungus clinging to the metallic bulk of the old bin.

But ever so slightly, the previously sealed shut lid of the bin, slowly began to pry open. Two small, frightened, sapphire blue eyes peaked out from the darkness. Carefully analysing the empty, dark and rubbish littered alley, through the barely opened lid of the bin.

There was no one in plain sight, at least nobody he could see. So it was at least somewhat safe to emerge.

The heavy iron lid of the bin slowly opened and out form it crept an incredibly small fox, no older than 3 years old.

However, quite sadly unlike the other small children in the village, who were well fed, loved and adored by their fellow townsmen and women. This boy was an unfortunate exception, the little fox was small, even for his age and extremely thin, pale and gaunt, visibly malnourished and starving.

In fact if one were to look closely at the tiny boy, they would be able to see his ribcage and cheekbone. But aside from the clearly underfed state of the child there were numerous other severe problems.

The boy's fur was dirty, unkempt, unclean and covered in dirt, grime and an amalgamation of other foul substances. And underneath the full layers of filth, if the boy had actually been able to clean it. The fur would have been a beautiful golden yellow which would have covered nearly his entire body other than his muzzle, front torso and the tips of his two tails. Those would have been a snowy white.

But unfortunately the days, months, years of not being able to clean himself had led to it darkening in colour, the golden yellow and snowy white turning to a sickly dingy yellow and iron grey.

The little thing crawled out of the bin and anxiously gazed around, his ears pricked up for any sign of movement or voices nearby. Nothing…not yet, it seemed like he could be able to move.

He slinked slowly into the shadows, hoping to avoid anything seeing him. He was lucky, he made his way to the edge of the alleyway.

H e stared out, into one of the cobble lined streets and his little mind started working furiously, about his chances of making it from one end of the street to the other as quickly as possible and drawing as little attention as possible. It would certainly be a gamble after all, THEY were still out there and he knew what they would do if they saw him.

The toddler's little heart began to beat at a quickened rate as he readied himself to run as fast as his little legs could carry him, from one end of the street to the other.

His breathing quickened, this was it. A roll of the dice.

3…2…1

"Gotcha freak!"

The small boy's ear pricked up and his heart began to beat furiously, he then felt the unfortunately familiar feeling of one of his tails being furiously and violently yanked back sending intense pain searing through the appendage.

He cried out in anguish, but the hand that had grabbed him, it held a grip of iron and refused to let him go so easily.

The toddler wailed in anguish as he felt them being violently pulled, almost to their limit. He had been found by THEM again.

He then felt himself being violently slammed against the cold cobblestone wall of the alley, the small boy looked up to see the sneering face of one of his most notorious tormentors.

He was around 15 years old, a tall and rather brutish looking mongoose with dark black fur and extremely sharp looking teeth and his yellow eyes were lit up in excitement to see how he could put the small toddler in his place.

"What did I say about seeing you in the open whenever I'm around?" he snarled at the small boy, but the child was too frightened to speak, he knew what was coming next and he was terrified of it.

"Well…go on…TELL ME!" The teen yelled, but once again no response. Only the toddler looking up at him with frightened and distressed eyes which were slowly beginning to tear up.

The teenager scoffed and then violently raised his leg and collided it against the small boy's stomach. The little fox cried out again and fell backwards, hitting his head against the concrete, his ears pinned back against his head while he curled up into a shaking ball on the floor.

The pain is his stomach was throbbing and agonising and even from the very little he had eaten he felt physically sick. He slowly tried to crawl away but was met by the iron grip of the bully violently yank his tail causing him to cry in pain and then the true violence began.

The teen pulled the toddler back and stamped down on his back, pain exploding through the little fox who screamed in agony, but he was silenced by a short kick to his chest. Causing the little boy to curl up into a ball once again, all the while he tried his best to shut out the agony caused by the flurry of blows assaulting his back and he prayed, prayed in the back of his mind…that somebody would come.

But deep down he knew it was hopeless, the townspeople despised him for his genetic deformity and deliberately turned a blind eye to the torture the little boy was going through, the orphanage where he had stayed for a matter of days had thrown him out, disgusted at the state of the child they needed to take care of and his parents…they were nowhere to be found.

All he had now…was a life of misery and pain to look forward to, but maybe…just maybe, someone would come for him and love him, like any person would for their child…