Young Writers Society

Chapter Eleven

991

Dominic and Abel were not at each other’s throats for once.

In fact, they sat in the only clearing in the forest, sitting across from each other and avoiding meeting eyes quite impressively. Neither spoke and only wiped blood away from their wounds with formerly white clothes that were now red.

Abel had his face set into an emotionless mask while Dominic did the same, not even grimacing as he set his broken arm back into place. He stared at his collarbone and at the grotesque tear that Abel had caused with his fangs and glanced at the gold fox’s mouth, the fangs hidden behind the torn and bloody lips, before looking away slowly. Abel did the same with his back, reaching with his his hands and coming away with a handful of torn muscles and blood. A glance let him know that Dominic’s claws that had caused the wounds were still out.

“Those days,” Dominic said quietly, “are gone now. Have no false hopes.” Abel slumped against a tree, ignoring the painful scratches the tree bark left in his raw back. The tree was instantly wet with blood.

“I never said anything about it. And I know.” He replied.

The fight had ended quickly when Mason had jumped in-between the two nine-tailed foxes. Abel had smelled blood, and a new prey, and had tried to go for Mason’s throat instead; Dominic and Lewis -who had been sitting on the ground for the entire fight- had interfered and separated the two. Abel, wounded, was quickly subdued by the strength of his opponent and the half-fox. From there, a process to stop the bleeding and a temporary, bloodstained peace had reigned.

There had been no casualties, the fact which, either for good or bad, no one could decide upon.

Abel lifted his head to look at Dominic hollowly after only a dozen minutes. “I am gravelly injured and I know for a fact that both of us will not heal from this so fast.” He began. “The cow blood, it is still in my veins - weak but still there. Already-“ Abel briefly showed Dominic his tails, and he witnessed a single tail that had a black tip with no hint of gold fur to be found, seemingly rotting away. “It is happening.”

Dominic let out a heavy breath and tore his eyes away as Abel concealed his tails again.

“It’s tiring.” Abel announced, the age in his voice withering away only for the occasion. “Mason was injured because of me. I do not know if I regret killing his mother because of the halfbreed, but I do know that he’s the only one who even thought about accepting me.”

Dominic looked at him. “What are you getting to?”

Abel smiled at him with no real happiness behind it. “I mean that so many people hates me now. It will be better if I just disappeared. It is what you wanted, after all.”

Dominic blinked slowly, successfully hiding his shock that Abel didn’t see any hint of it. “…Yes. It is what I want. But, the Law forbids me.”

Scowling, Abel toyed with a string of his vein that was laying on the ground, bloody. “Just ignore it like you used to in the past.” Dominic didn’t react but dabbed away at the wound that Abel had given him by trying to rip off his whole left arm.

“That was with other things.”

“It’s just another law.” Abel protested. Dominic snarled at him lightly with his face down.

“Fine, the Law aside, why do you think that I would truly want to tear your soul away from you?”

Abel blinked at him uncomprehendingly. “Because you do.”

“Of course I do.”

“I don’t see the point in this conversation.” Abel muttered and stood up with a wince that Dominic noticed but ignored. “I’m leaving. Those looks that the foxes are giving me are irritating.”

Dominic waited until the very last moment. “The Dead Area is where no one ever goes to. You won’t be found out. Do not fall into the hole for you will never get out alive.” Abel rolled his eyes at him, looking tired.

“I know where that is. And do not be so idiotic to think that I’ll go there.”

He walked away with his shoulders set back and his bones showing through the tears in his back, not giving the other fox a second look.

Dominic smirked and contained a laugh as Abel headed to the Dead Area.

☪

“I don’t understand.”

“You don’t have to.”

“But… why.”

“Because we just met.”

Mason wasn’t looking at Lewis, much to his discomfort. He had finally met his brother -half brother, a bitter piece of himself reminded him- and he wasn’t even giving him a glance. The ground, apparently, was much more interesting than a halfbreed.

Lewis wanted Mason to look at him. He wanted that completely destroyed, shattered and utterly confused look out of Mason’s eyes. He needed that look out of his face. Why can’t he understand? Because he himself was afraid of Mason leaving. Selfishness.

Can you look at me? Lewis couldn’t bring himself to say, please let me look at you. Mason dragged his claws along the ground and turned his face away from Lewis’s sight.

“What are you not telling me?” Mason finally asked desperately, still not looking up.

Lewis instantly slammed up a wall around his mind. “Nothing.”

The look that Mason finally gave him was more devastating than not being looked at. “Why is everyone hiding something from me? Even Dominic. No, he can hide things from me. But you. You’re my brother. You’re not supposed to lie to me.”

Lewis knew that it was true, and didn’t have the strength to deny it. “Can you just let it go by thinking that I’m alive and that’s the only thing that matters?”

If Mason didn’t have a bleeding and slowly healing wrist, and if Lewis was not his brother, he might have punched him in the face. “I hope you know the answer to that.”

With a sigh, Lewis took the bridge of his nose between his fingers. “We’re getting nowhere.”

“Then just…” At a loss for words, Mason dragged himself closer to Lewis with his hands, growling in frustration. “It’s so simple. Just tell me why you seem like a different person so you don’t feel like one.”

Clearly, he hadn’t meant to drive a stake into Lewis’s heart but he did.

“Mason, I don’t know what you’re saying.” Lewis tried, causing Mason to release a light, angry snarl.

Sighing, Lewis shook his head lightly at his own stupidity, and Mason stood up, kicking up soil as he did. “Why don’t you understand?” He asked in a crumbling voice but managed to sound enraged at the same time. Why don’t you understand? Lewis thought bitterly.

“I thought that you were dead. I knew that you were dead. I was just beginning to accept it — and then you appear out of nowhere.” Mason seethed.

Standing up, Lewis glowered down at Mason -taller by an inch or so-, beginning to tire. “You were beginning to accept it? Then what’s this?” He inquired, taking in his hands the small bottle that hung around Mason’s neck by a long leather string. A strand of his own fur glowed softly inside the glass. “Do you call this letting go?”

Mason looked as if he was afraid that Lewis was going to pull the bottle, rip the necklace off of his neck and stomp it under his foot until it was a fine powder. It sent a pang through Lewis’s heart. “I just wanted to keep a piece of you on me.” Mason insisted fiercely. “I did accept your death.”

Lewis narrowed his eyes back. “Stop talking about me as if I’m nothing but a dead ghost.”

Mason seemed stricken with partly anger, partly shock. “I did not.”

Lewis snorted dryly. “You kinda just did. Should our first conversation in nearly a thousand years be remembered as an argument?”

Mentally, he decided that he liked Mason better when he was speechless with shock.

“We’re getting nowhere because you’re telling me nothing.” Mason snarled.

“I assure you that you’ll hate me if I tell you anything.” Lewis replied and Mason shook his head determinedly.

“I’ll never hate you.”

For a moment, Lewis looked at Mason. Not stared or studied but really looked.

Mason’s eyes were dim and old, not bright and young as they should have been. Narrowed in determination, they looked stubborn but had something behind them - grief. Deep sadness and hope and anger that were all unsure of where to be directed at. Even worse, Mason looked like he was going to start crying.

“Mason,” Lewis said gently. He would hate to wound his brother’s emotion but what had to be done would have to be done. “I trust myself. I can explain everything to you. But I don’t trust you.” Once out of his mouth, it sounded and weighed much more worse than he had thought.

He couldn’t take it back, so he would have to barge on.

“I don’t trust that you’ll still see me as the same person after I tell you what happened. I don’t trust you to make the right decisions because you are easily ruled by your emotions. I don’t trust you to understand everything without hating me for it.”

Mason stumbled back a step, his eyes now wide with shock. He’s hurt… I’m so sorry.

“Mason, this is needed for everyone.” Lewis finished and waited for the punch. It never came. Mason was staring at him and he wasn’t looking away this time. His face was blank with shock, and all emotions quickly drained out of his eyes.

Mason finally opened his mouth. “Can I at least get a chance? To understand? Can you trust me just this once?”

Lewis hesitated but shook his head. “No. When the time comes.”

“I’m starting to think that those times will never come. Everyone says “when the time comes” but they never tell me when or why.” Mason sniffed angrily. “For a thousand years I thought you dead and you’re alive. An explanation is obviously overdue but…” he stole a bitter glance at Lewis’s eyes. “You won’t give me any. Just because I can’t be trusted. People change over time. I changed over time.”

Mason sighed heavily and turned around to leave, Lewis wordlessly facing his back. “Apparently, you did too. An impostor in a Hunter’s clothes.” This time it was not a stake but a thousand, white-hot swords shoved mercilessly through Lewis’s heart.

He could smell salty water and immediately regretted everything.

For a while, Mason stood, perhaps waiting for Lewis to take back what he said, or perhaps composing himself to be presentable in front of the other foxes. Just by himself… Lewis mused sadly.

Nevertheless, Mason soon left and Lewis was alone.

Lewis felt out of place in the forest and started to play with his newly regained tails. He didn’t know what exactly had happened either — he was supposed to have one tail and his powers were supposed to be fading, slowly but surely. When Abel had lunged at Mason, seeing nothing, both Dominic -who had more sanity than Abel- and Lewis had leaped onto him and knocked him down onto the ground. Then he felt the power of a fox coursing through him, making four more tails sprout, filling his veins with raw energy and bloodlust to kill.

It had been hard to control it in front of Mason, so helpless with his wrist bleeding profusely and eyes shut, a perfect prey. He had to remind himself again and again that even if injured, Mason was a eight-tailed fox and he was a five-tailed fox. He would never have stood a chance.

Besides, Mason was his brother.

Perhaps, Mason was also holding back just minutes before?

The forest knew Lewis and he knew the forest. He knew the winds ruffling the leaves on the trees like two old friends, the very tree that he was standing beneath - an old, old tree that had a huge hole in the side. He also knew that owl who had lived in that hole until- well, it must have died years before. A small stream was to his north, about 200 jumps away, and it was where he used to swim and catch big fishes with Mason, the fishes that had gold dots on the side and had gold fins.

He didn’t know the pair of weary footsteps that headed toward him.

A second later, Abel dropped down next to him, his eyes half lidded, partly concealing two curious orbs beneath them. “So.” He began carefully, licking off dried blood from his hands absently. “You fought?”

Lewis glared at him. “None of your business. Go away.” Abel didn’t, and instead, plopped himself down carefully, wincing as he did so.

“Don’t get so antsy. I mean, you get some time to reunite with family and all that fluffy shit, and the first thing you do is fight?” He snorted to himself in disbelief. “What’s wrong with you two?”

Groaning, Lewis clenched his fists. “Nothing. It’s complicated.” Abel shook his head, his eyes flashing away from him for a second.

Lewis saw pain in them. Crushing loneliness.

Just for a second it was there, then it was gone. “If it’s nothing, why did Mason…” Abel cast Lewis a sideways glance. “Never mind.”

“You don’t have to tell me.” Lewis knew that his half-brother was sobbing, and didn’t need to be reminded of it. The breeze carried the muffled sound to him, anyway.

Lewis took the silence that followed as an affirmative.

“Two, young idiots.” Abel finally sighed. Lewis shifted uncomfortably and looked down. “Why don’t you realize that it’s lucky to even have a family?” Lewis stared at him. “You… miss your own family…?” He spoke hesitantly, scratching the base of his neck.

Abel shook his head, his eyes becoming distanced and unfocused. “No. I don’t miss mother. I don’t… miss…” His shaking claws dug into his own leg and drew blood.

“No.” He then said simply and smiled at Lewis widely. His eyes didn’t. “No. I don’t.” He repeated, sounding as if he was trying to convince himself, then stood up.

“You are going to find Mason.” Abel commanded, staring down at Lewis imperiously. “And you two are going to talk it out.”

Lewis shook his head stubbornly. “No. When it is time.”

Abel scowled at him. “You’ve got no idea what you’re doing to Mason.” It crossed the line.

“Why don’t anybody think about me? I’m having a hard time too! I’m not the only one who wants an explanation and I’m not the only one who has to explain!” Lewis narrowed his eyes at Abel. “You.” He hissed lowly. “You explain what happened. You explain why you tried to kill me and succeeded in killing my mother and stepfather. You explain everything.”

“That doesn’t matter.” Abel retorted angrily.

“No it does. Of course it does.” Lewis chuckled, shaking his head in slight disbelief. Abel clenched his fists and his knuckles turned white. “Why are you trying to throw your own problems at me? No. You take care of it.”

Abel glared at him and snarled angrily. “As if your existence is perfectly normal.”

“Such selfishness.” Lewis shot back. Abel looked like he was trying his hardest to not rip his throat out, yet because his eyes were still a calm silver, Lewis deduced that he was safe. For now.

“Leave if you cannot handle being here.” Abel snapped. If in a regular state of mind, Lewis would have felt a sharp wrench in his chest, but he didn’t feel it when Abel said the words and he felt like he could kiss whatever did it.

Lewis said, “It is you who should be leaving.” and shoved Abel away.

The gold fox stumbled back an inch, caught off-guard, then shoved Lewis back. With his strength of a nine-tailed fox, even when injured, he succeeded in sending Lewis flying back a couple meters before he hit a tree and came to a painful stop.

“Let’s see who leaves first, halfbreed.” Abel snapped and jumped onto a thick branch of a tree, then was gone. Lewis sat up on the ground, rubbing his aching chest where Abel had targeted to push him, and snarled at Abel’s general direction.

“Fine. Let’s see, then.”

☪

The camp was long since set up and its occupants were getting tired, fast. The sun was going down over the horizon and as the shadows of various shapes and sizes crept along the campground, a campfire, relatively gigantic in size, was set up. The flames soon flickered into the sky, high and wild, the yellow and orange tendrils warding off the shadows, dissipating them.

The Lead Hunter sat on the floor around the fire, sharpening his dagger in concentration. He was a man of experience and age, with wrinkled face and fierce eyes, his limbs bulging with muscles hidden beneath the black, long-sleeved shirt. A thick, leather belt went around his waist and from it, dangled eleven fox tails, all in different colors and sizes, but every single one of them reflecting the fire’s restless light and glowing.

He was the Lead Hunter because he was the only one who had managed to hunt down eleven many-tailed foxes, and who could proudly say that he had faced two nine-tailed foxes and survived - hunted them down and had a tail from each of them, even. Beautiful creatures they were yet ruthless and cruel without any heart left in them.

The dagger, once sharpened into a razor-like point, was examined in front of the Lead Hunter’s eyes carefully. Once he was sure that it was sharp enough to be driven into a neck and could kill the creature, he set it down.

“Kim,” he called, and a young girl, only about fifteen, raced to his side immediately. Her black hair was falling into her black eyes that were too determined and hard for her age. She wore a black shirt and a dark grey jacket, with black jeans that allowed kicks and other rough movements. She’s too young, the Lead Hunter thought again.

“After this night,” he said, “will be the only chance for you to step out of this.” Kim stared at him in his eyes unwaveringly.

“I will not.” She told him.

“You will most certainly die.” He replied sadly, but knew that the girl would never back out of the Hunt.

“If I die, I will be happy with the people I love.” She mumbled. The Lead Hunter sighed.

“Your parents and your brother died a very noble death and they would never want you dying because of them.”

Kim looked at him and didn’t say anything.

“Fine. Fine. I called you to explain what will happen after the sun rises on the morrow.” He muttered and it caught Kim’s attention. She leant forward, eyes gleaming. “The foxes are in a forest.” The Lead Hunter explained. “We will set it on fire. With our numbers, we should be able to meet them when they run out of the woods. We’ll kill as many as we can. And you, are…” Trailing off, he looked at Kim, amused, as her face took on a more nervous shade and gulped. He picked up the dagger he had been sharpening so carefully, detached its sheath from his belt and slid the dagger into it. “…going to use this tomorrow.” Kim accepted the dagger like it was a fragile, yet very precious jewel and stared at it, wide-eyed.

The Lead Hunter smiled at her and watched as she carefully strapped it onto her own belt. “Thank you.” She whispered. He nodded, and then his face became serious.

“I have to warn you about a few things before you go to sleep. First, do not engage a fox by yourself. You are inexperienced and you have not faced any foxes before. Second, if you encounter a nine-tailed fox… run.” Kim gulped in fear but gave him a shaky nod of her head. “Third, do not be fooled by their appearance.” The Lead Hunter thought about it deeply then nodded. “That’s it.”

Kim frowned uncertainly. “But… can you tell me how they look like?” The Lead Hunter’s eyes glazed over and seemed to travel a hundred miles.

“Beautiful.” He whispered. “Mesmerizing in any forms they take if they wish so, but in their original forms…” Kim blinked at him. “They are like angels. With black, rotting hearts.” He finished, his lips tightening into a white line. “Demons, Kim.” He whispered. “They are truly demons.”

As the girl stood up and left in haste, her own mind obviously in a tangle, the Lead Hunter leant closer to the roaring fire. His face was warm from the flames.

Other Hunters walked over to the campfire and settled themselves down. They would normally be talking and laughing amongst themselves, but not tonight. They were nervous and tense, and most were typing away on a device they brought or writing a letter to their loved ones because the shadow of Death blended with their own.

“Kace and their group didn’t return.” A Hunter informed the Lead Hunter and he grimaced in sorrow.

“Nobody survived?”

“Yeah. It seems like that the gold fox was their target.” Some Hunters blanched and shivered. The gold fox.

The Lead Hunter didn’t even blink as he said, “Do not tell Kim about Amaia.”, stood up and left. Behind him, hushed conversations rose up, the sounds of the flames cackling and hissing brought dull warmth into his heart, and the tents had never seemed so lonely and dark.

Kace, his brother, was dead. So why wasn’t he grieving and in tears? Yet, instead of grief, he felt so empty and hollow, and as invisible barriers pressed down upon him, his aged knees shook.

He raised the flaps to his tent, kicked off his shoes and slumped inside, dragging his weary old self onto the blanket and a camping pillow. He rolled onto his back and stared at the dark ceiling of the tent. As the leader, he had to be strong tomorrow. He had to survive. In order to do that, he first had to get a good night’s slumber so that he would not be sleepy and dozy in the next day’s hunt.

Yet, he couldn’t sleep. He fished in his backpack for the familiar plastic bottle, wrenched it open and popped a flat, round blue pill into his mouth and swallowed with difficulty. He laid back down and waited for sleep to claim him. The gold fox. He could still hear Jason, the Hunter, saying. The gold fox. The gold fox. Kace and his group… And blood. There was blood.

His head rolled to one side and his mind faded into the darkness of a dreamless sleep.

When the Lead Hunter awoke, the tent was still dark and cold. He checked his wristwatch, peeled himself off the semi-comfortable blankets and the pillow and unzipped the tent’s flaps. Outside, the Hunters were testing their weapons, each strapping on a small leather pouch of cow blood, tightening their bowstrings and twirling their daggers around their fingers nervously. Kim was also in the crowd, gripping her dagger tightly, her breath able to be seen in the air as a plume of whiteness as the cold air revealed it.

Nobody talked or laughed. The Hunters were at least a mile away from the forest they were targeting, and as arranged, they let their dark clothing camouflage themselves in the light darkness of dawn and stretched out their muscles for running. A couple dozen Hunters carried torches and lighters, to be used to set the forest afire.

The Lead Hunter had two katanas strapped onto his back, forming a tilted cross, too long to be strapped onto his belt. The blade was coated with cow blood that was dry yet created a fine layer over the silver weapon. He moved to the front of the Hunters and zipped up his black jacket with thick fur inside to keep him warm from the approaching winter.

He gave a nod, started off into hard, silent sprint, and never sped up nor slowed down. The Hunters followed his lead and it was all he could do to not look back at Kim and shoo her away to safety, for he saw Death perched like a great raven right upon her shoulders, darker than anybody else’s shadows.