Soul's Decay : Chapter Seven

Chapter Seven

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Mason found himself being swatted into a hard, solid object by a nine-tailed fox for the second time in the day. Before he had been subjected to such a fate, he had been running on all four paws to the hideout - a large, green forest with a plenty of wildlife to feed on for a good amount of time. The night was abnormally bright, and the moon was slowly turning into its crescent shape. No stars were in sight, even when Mason left the painfully bright lights of the mortal cities.

His mind was tense, muscles ready to let him spring off the ground and attack at any moment. Therefore, the natural response to the strange presence that appeared out of nowhere and slammed him into the nearby tree, was to bark in pain and distress, and take a swipe with his paws. In response, the being slammed him into the tree again by his fur-covered throat, and gave him a menacing snarl right into his face.

“Do not move, youngling.”

The being whispered under his breath firmly, his iron-grip on Mason’s neck not loosening even a tiny bit. Mason tried to talk, but realized that he couldn’t -not in his original form- and shifted back to his usual human appearance. Soon, a man in his twenties with vivid, angry green eyes and long black hair scowled at where he assumed the being would be. A streak of moonlight revealed the being’s face for a moment, and Mason immediately reeled back in shock.

“Abmmmph.”

“I said to not speak!”

Abel -Ash- hissed at him, clamping a clawed hand over his mouth. Mason wasn’t quite sure what to address the nine-tailed fox with -Ash, Abel, or whatnot. What he had briefly seen, provided by the few seconds of light, let him decide the powerful creature’s identity, for Mason had seen the appearance only once in the past and never forgot it since. A teenager with blond hair, silver eyes and pale skin would be glaring at him in the dark.

The said teenager’s grip tightened. Mason frantically gestured with his hand at his throat, and Abel raised his eyebrows before he raised the hand over Mason’s mouth slightly.

“I thought that you said to not move.”

Mason blurted out almost immediately while gasping for oxygen, and Abel snarled lowly at him in warning, and placed his hand back over the seven-tailed fox’s mouth. Desperately, Mason tried not to react at the way Abel was squashing his throat with a vice-like, merciless grip.

His writhing came to an abrupt stop as Abel sent a look that hosted two emotions, as clear as day. Annoyance and terror.

“The Hunters are here, and you were running straight into their campsite.”

Abel explained curtly, and confusion bloomed in Mason’s eyes. But I didn’t see or hear anything. The nine-tailed fox seemed to know what he was thinking about, right from the bottom of it.

“Of course. Even I didn’t sense them. Almost.”

A grin split his face, and Abel took his hands off of Mason, letting him slide onto the ground. Well, Mason thought glumly, don’t everyone love being slammed into trees. Abel, just about to help him up, froze, resembling a statue.

A dozen flames danced in the darkness, far away to not be a threat just yet. Mason could smell fire, daggers, cow blood and -he hissed in terror- hunting dogs. Abel’s face crumpled, and he gritted his fangs angrily.

Mason could hear them sniffing the air and barking in delight. Furthermore, he imagined the Hunters smiling with their cursed daggers and animal-blood amulets in their hands. Enemies. Run. No, fight!

Abel cursed softly under his breath, and padded over to Mason’s slumped form with newfound urgency.

“Listen here. You’re going to run like hell and you won’t look back. You’re going to spend every single drops of your pathetic energy to get out of here.”

“W-what?”

Mason managed, his whole body now quaking in fear. He shouldn’t be so afraid. He wasn’t supposed to be so weak. But they’re hunters. And they have hunting dogs.

Abel scowled, but it seemed to be dimensions away.

“Listen, you weakling! Just run on my signal and don’t look back.”

“But, you.”

He stuttered, curling into himself, mentally and physically. Desperate tears formed in his eyes. All of a sudden, Abel’s features overlapped with Aaron’s, his long dead brother. He seemed to be screaming at him to run away. Because the Hunters are here with their amulets and daggers and hunting dogs.

Abel’s eyes softened, and he pulled Mason to his feet effortlessly. The seven-tailed fox’s legs felt like lead, and they trembled. Useless, pathetic and weak.

“I am simply repaying the debt.”

Abel told Mason, shoving him away from the Hunters and himself.

“Now go.”

Another firm shove.

“What debt?”

“For caring.”

Abel smiled, and it looked strange on his face. Mason shook the thought away, and tried to step toward him, but the fierce look in his eyes kept him rooted to the place. The nine-tailed fox was getting frustrated now, he could tell.

“GO!”

The Hunters heard the yell, and they started to advance upon them in an alarming speed. Clanks of weapons and soft thumps of human feet stripped the air free of its silence, making everything more louder, colorful, and deadly. Mason’s instincts screamed at him to run. To hide. The Hunters will kill you! Abel stood in front of him, nine tails sprouting and glowing gold in the darkness.

I understand.

Something spoke into his mind, and Mason jumped. I did not think that. He strained his imaginary ears for any more words, but his mind was his own once more. Badly shaken, he took a step back. Abel gave him an encouraging, but at the same time, slightly mad grin. The Hunters were now close.

They had daggers and sword that reflected the torches’ lights brightly, and amulets in their hands and belts. All were clad in black leather, various-colored fox tails hanging from their hips and worn like a scarf around their necks. Mason recognized one. White fur, the tail tipped and dotted silver. Brother?

Mason felt his form shift. His formerly black hair grew longer and fell into his face, now white, and his eyes shifted to molten gold. Seven tails, glowing just like Abel’s, only slightly dimmer, appeared behind him. His vision tinged with red.

Abel turned around to face him and roared something, but it never got to Mason’s ears. His inner beast took over, and for once, he welcomed it. After all, he was just a fox with powers and many tails. A beast from the core. He let out a high-pitched yowl and leapt forward, running past a shocked and clearly angry Abel to his death.

☪

It was not proving to be a good day for Abel. A day that was now bad enough. As Mason bounded forward without any hesitation showing in his long, powerful pounces, Abel growled in anger, and ran after him. Idiot, he raged, why was I trying to save him?

“Mason! Come back, you dimwit!”

Abel screamed, quickly losing the tight hold on his temper, and his voice boomed through the night. Some Hunters flinched, but most ran forward without pause. He roared in frustration, and sped up.

Mason -having previously ignored him, and obviously wasn’t planning to do otherwise- let out a guttural howl, deep from his heart, soaked with anger and sorrow. He lunged at a female Hunter, whose eyes widened with horror. She shrieked, slashing with her dagger wildly. Mason dodged her with ease, and snapped her neck with a hand like a thin twig. The scream stuck in her throat, never to be let out, as she tumbled onto the ground and did not move. The Hunters fell upon him, yelling in anger.

Just as a dagger was aimed perfectly and thrust at Mason’s eye, Abel intervened, finally having reached the plight. I will, he swore, kill that little piece of hunting dog shit when this is over.

The dagger, originally meant for Mason, was grabbed fearlessly and broken cleanly in half. Abel gripped the back of Mason’s shirt, and threw him back into a sturdy tree, fully intending to send him out of the action. Mason whistled through the air like a bullet, and hit the middle of the tree with a sickening crunch. Before he could let out any sounds of agony, the tree broke and the top half fell on top of him. Abel didn’t see it, but he could certainly hear it. Mason’s head dropped onto the floor, unconscious.

While Abel smashed and clawed through the battle, successfully keeping the Hunters away from Mason’s prone form, more reinforcements for the Hunters joined his enemies. Abel couldn’t believe that he had gotten himself in the situation. He was supposed to hide out somewhere deserted and wait for the yet-another-stupid-conflict between the Hunters and the rest of the many-tailed foxes to pass. He had, undoubtedly, welcomed death to hang out with him, a bit earlier than he would ever have intended. Too late now.

One of the gaps between his ribcages was invaded by a sharp blade, and Abel howled.

“Get away from it, Miranda!”

A masculine voice screamed, and Abel barely registered a tall form with dark hair dancing away from him gracefully, ripping out the dagger in the process. Abel crumpled onto the ground, the cow blood written on the dagger’s hilt taking its toll. Stupid, he chided himself numbly, so damn stupid. He was supposed to have sensed the mortal girl sneaking up on him, he was sure. But I didn’t.

He painfully dragged himself up and threw his whole body to the side, just in time to dodge an arrow. It was an old fashioned attack, but the tip was soaked with cow blood. A certain death, if it was a hit to the heart. The Hunters closed in on him, yet giving a wide, circular space around the fox. Abel saw a killing blow on their hands, on their daggers, on their swords, in their hardened eyes. Mason groaned in agony under the broken tree.

There was a thumping sound in Abel’s ears that drowned out everything else, and slowly, the sound and the vision of the Hunters disappeared. He was on a battlefield. A different battlefield.

A thin woman stood next to him, flexing her claws. Mother. She had long, golden-brown hair that tumbled down to the small of her back and pale, silver eyes. He had inherited them all, a little tweaks here and there. Golden fur. Brighter silver eyes.

Abel looked down to his hands and saw long claws that were caked with blood. He looked up slowly and cocked his head, asking for approval from his mother. She didn’t look at him. Instead, she snarled at the Hunters around them. Abel felt a pang of disappointment in his core.

“Fight!” She spoke abruptly. The Hunters were now forming a circle around them. One of them pulled out a long dagger from his leather belt. Abel blinked at her, confused, and she growled.

“Do not disappoint me, child. Fight them. Kill them. They are worth nothing, they’re your enemies! Fight!”

“Mother?”

Abel couldn’t remember the woman saying that. Ever.

His mother licked a claw on her hand, and spat the blood out. Without another word, she rushed into the crowd of armed Hunters, fangs growing in her mouth. “Mother!” He cried out. She can’t go! She’ll die again! “Abel!” A voice called back. It was not his mother’s voice. She was somewhere in the battle. He was alone, and the Hunters were closing in. The voice called out again, and he struggled to remember its owner. Mason?

His vision cleared, and his sensations rushed back to him. The deep wound on his torso was bleeding heavily. He blinked slowly. Where is- The dark-haired girl, Miranda, rushed forward, her dagger raised fiercely above her head. Her mouth was wide open in a battle cry, and her eyes shone with triumph. She was going to go for the kill.

Abel thought quickly and moved quicker. He let his instincts take over, the fox inside him. It was sneaky, cruel, filled with malice and fueled with blood. He let the jar that contained the misery and suffering from the past, break, and fully accepted it into his mind. Today’s deaths shall not be mine. He moved forward, extending his claws further, and slashed the girl’s wrist, leaving a gash behind. The stab wound on his abdomen burned.

Miranda exclaimed in shock, and jumped back, only to be snatched by her forearm. Her fellow Hunters ran forward, and Abel grinned at them drily. He moved his mouth onto her neck quicker than she could register, as if he was about to kiss it, but then parted his jaws wide and bit down on it. The girl’s scream died in her throat as her head was separated from the rest of her body.

Abel threw the warm corpse to the side, and tossed the head for a Hunter to catch. The human screamed, and dropped it onto the ground, where it rolled away. Abel laughed.

As the Hunters pounced on him in rage, he let out a quiet snicker, and called the shadows to him. The shadows always responded. He was young when he realized that they would do it for him anytime, and he was older when he finally found out that they were alive. True, they were merely caused by light and an object, but he could wake them up. He could make them look like how he wanted them to look and act like how he wanted them to act. The shadows were powerful, and they were everywhere in the bright night.

Nobody had any time to react as the shadows slithered into their souls and dragged it into nothingness.

☪

“-up before I kill you.”

Mason opened his eyes to the first thing he heard, a light groan escaping through his lips. As he looked up, blinking the last traces of unconsciousness out of his eyes, he noted how Abel was holding up a tree, or at least half of it. Mason blinked again, and stood up gingerly, feeling like every single bones in his body were broken, healed wrongly, and broken again.

The sun was rising, lighting up the dark sky and he squinted as the sunlight stabbed into his eyes. Last night’s events rushed into him with his last blink.

“You!”

He exclaimed, jumping away from Abel. The nine-tailed fox glared at him in response, silently daring him to question him about anything. Mason ignored the dark look.

“You threw me into a goddamned tree?”

“You went wild.”

Abel replied tensely, barely reigning in his anger. He kicked the tree away from him, and crossed his arms over his chest. Right under his left arm was a bloody smudge, the blood darker on the edges but still flowing from a hidden wound. Abel noticed Mason staring, and snorted coldly, waving his gaze away with a hand.

“That, you don’t need to give a shit about.”

Mason gulped, looking down shamefully. “I went wild?” He asked, earning an angry nod from Abel.

“Yes. And I should never have pulled you away from the campsite.”

Blinking owlishly, Mason tried his hardest to go over what had happened the night before, only to come up with nothing. He let out a sigh of frustration, and took a hesitant step toward Abel.

“Look, I get it. I was stupid. I-“

“Don’t.”

Abel cut him off harshly. Mason closed his eyes for a moment. His head was pounding painfully, he could hardly remember anything from the battle, and the nine-tailed fox acting like he was the victim didn’t help anything. Abel growled lightly under his breath.

“What in the name of God were you thinking? To run there like you don’t have a fucking brain and then getting me nearly killed? Did you, perhaps, think that you had my protection because of some reason I don’t give a hell about?”

“What?”

Mason narrowed his eyes, feeling a snarl building in his throat. Abel stomped closer to him, his eyes nearly glowing. Even without the nine, golden tails, he was considerably intimidating. Unconsciously, Mason took a step back.

Abel raised a hand, curling it into a fist, and for a second, looked like he wanted to punch Mason into the next century or so.

“Selfish brat! Didn’t I tell you to run? The hell were you doing, running straight to them? Did you want to prove yourself? Hmm? Did you want to prove to me that you are not a wimpy weakling you are?!”

“What the hell is your point?! It already happened, dammit!”

Rage boiling inside him, Mason screamed back, feeling as if a dozen nails were being driven into his skull. Instantly, he knew that it was not the right response. Abel’s fangs grew until it was piercing his lower lip, and he bared them menacingly, blood dripping down his chin. There was no hint of the oddly understanding, calm fox he saw yesterday.

Leaning forward threateningly, Abel snapped his jaws in anger, his face starting to resemble a golden fox more than human.

“I’ll tell you what! You couldn’t take the damn hint! You were weak and of no use in the situation! But no, you decide to go wild on me and get me and yourself in danger!”

“Shut up! You don’t understand!”

Mason snapped, his arms reaching up to shove Abel away from him. He, and his fangs, were way too close to his face for comfort. Abel didn’t allow himself to be pushed back, and instead, caught Mason’s forearms in a crushing grip. Instantly, his skin broke, Abel’s long claws digging into them painfully.

Abel’s silver eyes burned holes into him, and Mason saw anger, disappointment and pure rage in them. What the hell did I do wrong? He wondered silently, while starting to struggle to escape. Abel’s hands tightened.

“What do I not understand?” He inquired, his voice dangerously low and soft. Mason couldn’t help but feel like he was in a dangerous situation, in which a wrong move would cost him his life. Abel shook him by his arms, slamming him against the broken tree.

“What can I not understand, Agar?! The reason you went wild? Or something that a maniac like me would never get?”

“Yes! Something that you would never get!You’re insane! You kill your own kin!”

Mason blurted out, and immediately wished that he could take it back. Abel’s eyes clouded with anger, and a loud crack came from Mason’s arms as the fox’s hands put unbearable pressure on it. Mason gritted his teeth to hold in a pained scream.

When the thoughts about attacking Abel in any way possible began to creep into his mind, Abel let go of his arms, practically swatting it away. His eyes were painfully blank, his face emotionless and vulnerable.

Quickly, Mason’s mouth started to form an apology.

“Save it.” Abel muttered, turning away. He began to walk away from him, disappointment seeping from his defeated form. But was there a fight? Mason started after him, but froze when Abel let out an ear-piercing growl. The apology died at the edge of his lips.

Sensing no further intervention from the seven-tailed fox, Abel sprinted away, soon becoming a dot in the horizon. A cloud of dust and a lingering, warning growl were the only things that were left behind.

Mason slumped against the tree, stunned, his eyes still fixed on the spot where Abel had disappeared. His arms ached painfully, and he knew that they were probably broken. His eyes were just starting to take in the lifeless bodies of the Hunters a dozen meters away from him, the evidence of the fight Abel had gone through to protect him. His conscience screamed at him to do something.

“Or something that a maniac like me would never get?” The words bounced around in his brain, reminding him, again and again, of his wrongdoings.

There was nothing that he could do now.