Young Writers Society

Chapter Nine

991

Mason slammed into the ground, managing to avoid the sharp pebbles like a miracle. He rolled his shoulders and groaned in pain, squeezing his eyes shut. Dominic watched from above, sitting on a tree and getting a good laugh out of his plight. With the setting sun as an impressive background, Jia watched him impassively, her arms crossed.

“Stop attacking from the front. And stop trying to shield your forearms.” she ordered, and Mason reflexively rubbed his formerly broken limbs. “Don’t be so hard on Mason. Abel did a number on him.” Dominic drawled lazily, and shifted on the thick branch. Mason resisted the urge to scowl at him and stood up with a wince. Jia yawned and watched him through half-shut eyelids. Why are you so weak? they seemed to ask and made Mason grit his teeth.

“Thank you for the advice,” Mason replied, “do you mind if I have another go at it?” His trainer shrugged and leant down to help him up. “Why not?”

Mason shook out his sore legs and arms and leapt to conceal himself behind one of the old trees in a blink. Jia didn’t even turn to his direction, making him more aggressive. He silently flexed his claws and rushed to Jia, slashing when he was close enough. A second passed and then Jia wasn’t there but behind him, slamming him into the dirt for the eleventh time in the day. She locked his arms behind him and stepped on them.

“Done yet?” she asked, bored. “That’s enough for today, I guess,” Mason retorted, his mouth full of dirt and muffled with it. Jia picked up her foot and backed up a few steps.

“So, what lesson did you learn?” Dominic inquired, sauntering over and kissing Jia on her lips briefly. Mason made a face at him, peeling himself off the forest ground. “I don’t know, don’t challenge her into a duel because you’ll be sore all over?” Dominic chuckled, and slapped his back good-naturedly, making him stumble forward from the force of it. When he leant forward, although, obscuring both their faces from Jia, his facial expression darkened.

“If you know that, don’t go near Abel ever again.” He hissed threateningly, pushing his hands into his pockets. Mason blinked at him, silently studying the calm sea of aged knowledge in his eyes. He’s still angry about that? Then, he snarled back lowly.

Jia walked away from the small clearing in the corner of his eye as if she didn’t want to have any part in the possibly upcoming argument.

His gaze drifted back to Dominic, who was showing his fangs. Even if foxes were independent creatures from the start, they had changed. The many-tailed foxes lived alone but when troubles arose, they clumped together for they, even if all hated to admit it, were becoming more human-like. Dominic wasn’t a leader, and therefore his leadership wasn’t being challenged like those wolves because he didn’t have any. But he wouldn’t take being rose up against by a youngling so well.

Dominic gestured at Mason’s forearms in an agitated way.

“He attacked you with full intent to maim. He’s dangerous.” He declared, squaring his shoulders. His snowy eyes were narrowed and warned the other to come no closer.

“You attacked me too.” Mason retorted, feeling a sudden, sourceless bust of anger and annoyance. Dominic didn’t even blink as he said, “It was necessary.” and silently dared Mason to say anything against it. Mason resisted the urge to snort disbelievingly.

“Sure, necessary for your flashy entrance.” He snapped. Shit, way more emotion than I needed. Dominic took a deep breath and leveled an impressively calm gaze on Mason, and the eight-tailed fox realized that Dominic was taller than him by a few inches if they stood with their body straight, facing each other.

“Do you not deny that Abel attacked you with will to injure?” he rumbled, and his fangs grew a few millimeters. Mason absently noted the fact that Dominic’s teeth were longer than his. Much longer.

“I-“ Mason started but paused. In his mind, flashed memories after memories of Abel gritting his fangs and snapping at him, his silver eyes brash with rage and his hands tightening with the sickening snaps of bones breaking and the feeling of being threatened. Danger. Torment. Run.

“I…” he mumbled again and his head dropped in acceptance of defeat. Dominic’s glare softened just the tiniest bit that it was nearly unnoticeable. “Abel is dangerous.” he drilled in, not letting go of the chance. “He kills for joy and the taste of blood.” Mason’s head snapped up. He knew for a fact that his own rash actions had gotten Abel to fight even if he hated the fact, not ‘killing-just-for-the-heck-of-it’. He didn’t want Abel to get shunned because of what somebody else did.

“What do you know about him? He protected me!” Mason barked with newfound fire burning in his eyes. Dominic’s eyes narrowed farther and his face crumpled up.

“I know everything about him! Your parents-“ He began to roar but shut his mouth in an instant. Mason froze in place - his mouth, ready to form a comeback, his clenching fist, his narrowing eyes.

“My parents? What about my parents? How is Abel…?” Mason said, his voice just above a whisper. He started to get a whole new feeling - being excluded from something that he obviously was supposed to be a part of. Dominic was looking extremely uncomfortable and tried to evade the other’s gaze.

Mason released a loud scream - unlike the sounds made by human throats but something that he was dulled in, something that was truly wild. Something that was primordial. Dominic flinched, and he let out a series of warning yaps in return, never backing away half a step.

“WHAT ABOUT MY PARENTS?!!” Mason howled in a fit of rage, his voice breaking along the way. Dominic sensed the eight-tailed fox’s rage and animosity spreading around the forest, and knew that he had to put a stop to it. His tails appeared and fanned out behind his back, glowing crimson brightly.

Something about his action made Mason snap, a reason that he couldn’t quite place his hands on. His vision tinged with red and he whipped out his own set of eight tails.

“Tell me, TELL ME!! TELL ME, YOU SICK FUCK!” he screeched wildly and flung his fists at Dominic, no logic remaining in his brain. If there had been, he would have stopped; he would have thought about what he was going to do and the aftermath; he would also have thought about how he was going to get out from the situation alive. Yet, Mason barely felt it as his conscience tried, and failed, to tug him back. Dominic dodged the punches, drew back his own fist, but hesitated.

With an angry sigh, he let his hand unclench from a fist and tackled Mason onto the ground in a heartbeat. He pressed him down and growled ear-shatteringly at him, hoping to intimidate the younger fox. It didn’t work, and Mason snapped his set of sharp fangs right in front of Dominic’s face, barely missing his nose.

“Stop it!” Dominic growled. Mason didn’t seem like he could hear anything except for the growls, snaps and threats. “Let me go!” Mason screamed again, and started to flail around wildly, his claws making the action deadly. “Not unless you agree to stop this.” Dominic replied, mentally calming himself down. If both of them went wild, the result would be unpleasant to state the least.

Mason had frustrated tears burning in his eyes and he roared in fury viciously.

“Mason, listen.” Dominic tried again. “I’ll let you go and I’ll tell you everything once the Hunters settle down again and everything is in peace. This is just not the time. I promise.” He cooed as if he was speaking to a spoiled child. Mason wasn’t one, but he was much more dangerous.

When he started to consider if maybe his quickly made-up plan wouldn’t work and he would have to deal with the situation more brutally, Mason took a deep breath and closed his eyes, shuddering, his fully extended fangs digging small, bleeding holes into his lower lips. Dominic let out a breath he didn’t realize holding but didn’t make any move to let him up or free him. Instead, he smiled reassuringly. “Good, that’s it. Calm down, just take a deep breath. Good.”

After a long time, Mason opened his eyes again and showed Dominic that the orbs were now their original color -the color of the youngest leaves on the trees around them-, not the harsh, candescent gold they had been minutes before. Dominic smiled at him tiredly and warily moved away from him, never taking his gaze off of Mason as he rolled his body up on his back and with the momentum of it, snapped himself up into a standing position.

Mason wordlessly glared at Dominic, his hair bedraggled and muddy and the sharp stones on the forest floor having torn up his clothes. His own blood from his lips dripped down his chin in a melancholy rhythm. Like a slithering snake, his ruffled, grimy tails disappeared as if they were being sucked into his body.

Before Dominic could say anything, Mason gave him yet another icy stare and hissed out, “You’d better,” before storming away in rage-fueled hurry into the trees.

Jia leapt out from above a tall tree that had formerly obscured her from vision safely and jogged up to her mate, nuzzling his neck to see if he was safe. When she was sure of it, she pulled away with worry clear in her eyes.

“He didn’t take it very well,” she whispered grimly and Dominic nodded in reply. He sighed deeply. “It was only two words and he almost went wild. What should I do when I do have to tell him?” Jia shifted uncomfortably as Dominic fixed her with a worried and frustrated gaze. She didn’t dare to look away. She had to be there for Dominic when he needed her, which was a very rare occasion.

“Then don’t tell him. Don’t make his life harder than it already is.” She finally replied stiffly. Dominic looked away. “It’s his parents, his bloodline, he has a right to know.” He looked up to the heavens and glared at it fiercely, openly blaming whatever lay above the clouds for all he had to quarrel with.

“I need to think.” he finally announced, releasing an air of authority around him. Jia nodded wordlessly and watched him dash away in a way that might have made one think that he was a prey.

☪

Abel looked at the blood smudged on his hands, his breathing erratic. The blood mixed with raindrops but wasn’t washed off. He knew that the reason for his head getting lighter was blood loss. The Hunters had also used cow blood, the worst poison in the world for a special breed they hunted down. The many-tailed foxes never laid a hand on cows. Never, even if they were starving to death. If they consumed any of it, the best chance was dying after only a short hour of agony. Why, nobody ever knew but Abel personally thought that it was a curse. The foxes were almost invulnerable, powerful and superior to humans when it came to it and a desperate mortal must have cursed them into reacting violently against cow blood.

The hideout, he thought drowsily, forcing a foot in front of another, again and again. His feet were wet. I can rest at the hideout. The thought was what a strong, last-minute desperation brought to him.

I might be kicked out. Dominic would never let go of this chance, he would sneer and mock and probably make my wounds worse somehow. His hands trembled as they plucked out the Hunter’s -Griffin, he thought it was- arrow, deeply embedded in his side. It hurt-he would never say it out loud but it hurt.

The pulled-out arrow brought along a chunk of flesh that seemed like only blood and nothing else. The arrow tip had been coated with cow blood. The deadly blood of the weak animal could be felt rushing through his veins.

His formerly pent-up power faded, and Abel struggled in vain to keep it inside him. It soon vanished completely and he dropped onto all four paws, his gold fur bristling in pain and desperation. Blood slowly seeped through the soggy strands and dripped onto the ground.

He wouldn’t make it, he deduced. He would never make it. Was he going to join those pathetic corpses of the Hunters? Was this his demise after thousands of years of fighting to become immortal?

After a brief second of hesitation, Abel closed his eyes and let out a long, shrill scream for help.

The cry echoed away into sounds of wind and rain that was more like whips of water - only then did Abel collapse onto his relatively uninjured side and start to pant shakily. His head was burning and the flame was creeping up his legs slowly.

Several times he was unfortunate enough to witness many-tailed foxes writhing and screaming and coughing up boiling organs with cow blood in their veins, and it felt numb and otherworldly to realize that it was happening to him in the moment.

The best chortle a fox’s tongue could produce was released, and it slid into a sardonic chuckle as time flew by.

The inferno was in his stomach, every single one of his nine tails, even in his eyes and paws. As the internal torture embraced his heart, he yowled in pain and for once, the falling, cool raindrops felt like heaven. His paws clawed the air and his ears twitched in distress as he gritted his fangs. Blood rushed into his mouth from his gums and he gagged wildly, letting out a pitiful bark.

Didn’t I call for help? He wondered briefly, but found it hard to blame anything for it. They would be far away, away from the threat, grouped together, powerful and ready to take on the Hunters.

Why didn’t anyone know that sometimes even he needed protection?

Why didn’t anyone see the silent tears?

Abel kept on slipping in and out of consciousness. His body seemed to be in flames, burning up, making him almost afraid to open his eyes in case he saw his limbs going up in a column of smoke. He never thought about dying for it had seemed impossible. He had thought that he wouldn’t die - he was powerful and everything feared him, avoided him.

The regrets and guilt that came back to haunt him in his very last moment made him feel indescribably empty.

He shouldn’t have been so arrogant when he got hit, and he should have noticed the desperation and determination on the Hunter’s face as he notched a red-tipped arrow to his bow. Thousands of years of experience that he thought he had - the instincts and knowledge that he thought he earned when he lived through the Last Bloodshed - all were lies that he fed himself. What was his fault and what was not? Weren’t everything?

A pair of soft footsteps rang in his foggy state of mind and he barely managed to lift his head up. In front of him, he saw an older version of human Mason, clad in a Hunter’s outfit and smiling at the gold fox. Yet, he could note some differences in his features - the snowy white hair that looked like it was faintly glowing in a certain angle, the yellow eyes with only a slight tinge of gold and the absence of his tails. Abel couldn’t feel any tails on him.

Mason? He still whispered into the doppelgänger’s mind uncertainly, watching as the mysterious man’s eyes curved in hidden laughter. He stepped closer to him and inspected the dying fox curiously. Abel barely managed a threatening snarl.

“I remember you.” ‘Mason’ said, plopping himself down next to Abel casually, not caring if his clothes immediately turned sopping wet. Abel lay his head down onto the ground again, just wanting the pain to stop. “You were the one who tried to tear out my heart the moment I was born.”Abel’s head shot up from its previous position on the ground -breathing heavily in agony- and he stared.

“Isn’t it funny? How it is you who is about to die right now?” The Mason-look-alike asked coolly. The endless supply of raindrops attempted to drown him out. He’s not Mason, Abel realized fleetingly and closed his eyes with a pained sigh. No. He’s —

“I hope that you still remember me. The halfbreed brother.”

Another raspy breath escaped through Abel’s clenched fangs, each one seeming to bind the old soul to living forcefully, and his face contorted. You died, I remember that, he told the younger man without hesitation. Lewis laughed bitterly. “Long story short, I didn’t.”

If possible, Abel’s pain intensified into another whole new level and he squeezed his eyes shut, his muscles tightening in protest. Explain. He managed. Lewis blinked at him in mock surprise. “Are you sure?” he smirked, staring the nine-tailed fox down. “You’re dying and you want to know?”

Abel’s lips lifted an inch and he snapped with his fangs weakly.

“Okay, then. Since you’re so curious.” There was a bit that Lewis didn’t say and didn’t need to say for they both knew what it was. Your time is running out. “Well, you know how it started out. After you came to kill me to erase the stain, the fatal injury you gave my mother was permanent and she couldn’t heal fast enough from those nasty wounds. She soon died in the Last Bloodshed, unable to survive, because of you.”

Lewis gave Abel a quick glance to catch his almost guilty reaction before it was wiped away cleanly.

“Then Mason’s father took me in, protected me and Mason from the Hunters and other prodding foxes as the years went on. About eight years later I started to realize that I never belonged. I left. I had more blood on my hands the next day than any other foxes around the world, I assume.

A week later, the Hunters appeared. They knew what I was but didn’t blame me for existing. They blamed my mother. They said that they would accept me only if I got rid of every single traces on my body that indicated ‘a many-tailed fox’ and I did. It wasn’t hard, hacking off the tails. I had left Mason and his father four-tailed and by the time I met the Hunters, I was a five-tailed fox. They left one uncut. When I became just a normal fox, my fox slowly disappeared along with what little powers I had,”

Abel noted that Lewis sounded slightly wistful, and his own tails twitched in distress.

“and because I was just a halfbreed, not pure, I slowly lost the foxlike features I had left. But they’re still in me, you see—“ with a heavy-hearted grin, Lewis willed his tail to appear, a long white tail that only so faintly glowed, and studied his fingernails that were dull and useless. After a moment, even the tail flickered and disappeared while Abel watched on with dull senses. “Only a tail and a set of fangs.” Lewis bared his now-sharp teeth to prove his statement. “They’ll disappear soon enough.”

Abel’s tongue rolled out of his mouth, and he let out a series of hacking coughs, covering half of his snout in blood.

Lewis ran a hand through Abel’s bloody fur, examining the blood that still trickled freely from the open and untreated wounds with psychotic fascination. “How’s Mason doing?” He finally asked. Abel’s ears twitched at the question.

He’s quite a leader, he answered after a long while. But he is stubborn, has anger management issues, is ill-tempered, and misses you… quite a lot. Abel absently let his mind wander to the necklace Mason always wore around his neck. He even has a strand of your fur in a small bottle and wears it around his neck. He’s young and he’s going through many catastrophes. It would be helpful if you were at his side, helping out.

Lewis chuckled quietly. “As if. He wouldn’t want a disgrace to hang around.”

Abel gazed up at him from the floor, a hint of emotion flickering through his defeated eyes - surprise. You two have a misunderstanding there. Mason doesn’t know. He thinks that you are his full-blooded brother and since his father died shortly after you ‘died’, nobody told him the truth.

Lewis almost lost his balance and fell over but steadied himself at the last moment. “You serious?!” He hissed excitedly and grabbed Abel’s front paw, making him yelp in pain. “Oh, sorry. But… wow. He doesn’t know?” For the last time, yes. “Man, this is so… wow…”

Staring at the excited halfbreed, Abel fought a pang in his chest. Only if I have someone to care for like that.

Lewis jumped up to his feet, looking as if Christmas had come early. “Great! Then I’ll go visit him!” What? No, you can’t just die on him and then appear out of nowhere. “Damn you I can. He’s my brother.” Lewis snarled back at him. His eyes then skimmed over Abel’s shuddering, large frame, blood-soaked fur, dazed eyes and blood drizzling out of his lowered ears.

Abel noticed him staring and sucked in a deep, probably one of his last breath. End this, he whispered, and go find Mason. Be subtle on him or I’ll kill you. Lewis frowned, effectively crumpling up his whole face. “No. You aren’t dying tonight.” I am! Abel hissed back angrily. His brain wanted it to end, and he couldn’t feel his legs and tails. He wanted it to end.

Lewis smirked at him. “You have a truckload of things to repay me. You aren’t dying until you clean up your mess.” Abel blinked owlishly, but couldn’t form any more words to communicate with the halfbreed.

Satisfied of the silence, Lewis extended his fangs, pricked a finger on it and watched a droplet of blood roll down when the fang pierced the skin immediately and with ease.

“When a cow blood enters a fox’s body,” he said, almost to himself, “it collects right-here.” He laid his bleeding finger on a point a couple centimeters below Abel’s skull, on the backside of his neck.

“If you get it out…let’s see what happens.” Lewis mumbled. Abel could only watch, horrified, as he lowered his mouth to his body, grimaced at the bloody fur and parted his jaws wide. He hesitated then snapped the two parts of his jaw together.

☪

“If I don’t kill you later, remind me so I can.” Abel muttered groggily as he pressed his hands on the deep bite mark and fell on his side, groaning in dizziness. “My blood.”

Right across from him, the rising sun casting an exactly apricot-colored shade over his face, Lewis snorted and pushed him upright again.

“It wasn’t my fault, remind you. It’s your fault that your skill absolutely lacks in battle.”

“Why you little pi-“ A hiccup, made by none other than himself, interrupted him. He raised a hand in front of him as if to shut out any snide comments before he could even hear it, and let out another loud hiccup. Lewis tried to hold in his laughter and partly succeeded. Abel glared at him. “Shut up.” Lewis shook his head and smirked.

Abel scowled and stared at the sky, deep, rich orange spreading from the horizon. Studying it, almost immediately, his face relaxed. “You are strange,” he finally retorted, still looking away from the unwanted company. “You look so much like Mason, yet you speak so differently…” He could almost hear Lewis rolling his eyes. “You’ll see the real one soon enough.”

Shaking his head, Abel made a shoo gesture with his hand. “Get away from me and run to your brother. I’ll take care of myself from here. Or are you going to return to the Hunters?” Lewis’s face hardened as his grin slipped off of his face. “No. Not yet.” “Whatever.”

The silence made Abel uncomfortable. It wasn’t like he was feeling any better - the wounds were still open and possibly getting infected with the hole in his side as a bonus. At least the cow blood was gone.

“Why did you save me?” He asked at last, looking down. Lewis scratched the base of his neck uncertainly. “Well, seeing the way that you talked about Mason, I guessed that he would care about you too.”

Abel snorted, a small part of him still disbelieving in the fact that he was actually talking with a halfbreed. A stain. No. The stain saved my life. “He might have, but it is unlikely in the moment. Even more since I threw-“ The said fox’s big brother narrowed his eyes. “Threw-?” Why am I so nervous? I’m the elder, for God’s sake. Thousands of years older. “Never mind. I forgot.”

Lewis’s gaze burned a hole into his face as he closed his eyes and welcomed the fresh wind after the storm. The storm had been enormous, yes, but they had managed to get through it. It probably hadn’t been a good idea to sit out a storm, wounded, with nothing that could be used as a barricade.

“You look fine now. Let’s go.” Lewis blurted out, twirling a strand of his hair in front of his face. Abel shook his head stubbornly, his eyes still closed. “No. And that’s final.” Lewis sent a glare in his direction. “Spoiled kid.” Abel’s eyes snapped open in an instant in disbelief. Spoiled kid. He’s the one to say that I am a spoiled kid? He just called me a…?

“Well,” Abel gritted out, “you and Mason are going to be a fantastic duo. I can’t wait to see it.” When Lewis smiled softly, it was so genuine that Abel didn’t mock him about it. “Yeah. Can’t wait to see him.”

Abel stood up with a pained grunt and pulled off the dirty fabric he had once called shirt. Lewis watched him with narrowed eyes, instantly on the defense again. Abel snorted. “Relax. I don’t have any tricks in pulling my shirt off.”

Under the halfbreed’s watchful gaze, Abel tore the shirt into thin strips and bound it tightly around his wounds. Blood immediately seeped through the formerly white fabric, now brown.

“That’s gonna get infected. Mud and wounds don’t mix well.” Lewis warned him. Finishing tying the last knot, Abel shrugged carelessly and stretched, his joints cracking. “You don’t tell me what to do.” He heard a frustrated grunt behind him and when he whirled around, Lewis was gone.

I’m guessing that it is time to see you again. Abel mused silently and bounded off behind him.