Young Writers Society

Chapter Ten

991

Lewis stared at his former home, not moving from where he stood.

The forest hadn’t changed for many countless years and was old and alive. Even if he had only half the blood of a fox, he could feel the immense power and the sense of existence those foxes emitted from their very beings. They were powerful and he was not. What if Mason didn’t even recognize him? What if he became angry? What if he found out sooner or later that he was a halfbreed?

“If anyone asks,” Abel whispered, shifting uncomfortably on his feet, “I was never here.” It somewhat seemed intentional, to ease him a little -to show him that he wasn’t the only one who was nervous. Lewis briefly wondered if the fox could read minds, not just talk into it, but dismissed it just as quickly. It was ridiculous.

“I never knew that you were shy.” Lewis muttered, attempting to glare but failing miserably. Nervousness was in his eyes, shrinking into itself.

Abel was practically strangling his hands, and even as the other watched, he clawed one of his bleeding wounds lightly and hissed in pain. I see why everybody say that you’re insane, again, Lewis thought while staring at what Abel was doing. Abel shot him a look.

“Physical pain distracts me from other things,” he explained coldly. “such as mental pain or a certain pain in the ass.”

“That’s not the correct way to introduce yourself.” Abel looked at him murderously. “That’s it.” he growled, and Lewis briefly wondered how he always managed to get him so mad. Abel was always passive or laughing sadistically almost every single time he saw him. “I’ll rip you pathetic head off.”

A small body jumped in between them, and tugged back Lewis with surprising force. Both of them blinked in surprise. The girl’s raven black hair whipped around her stony face and her eyes were glowing bright orange. They looked like the flames of hell in one’s eyes.

“No, you won’t.” The girl snarled, and let him go, although she was shrinking back in fear. “I have only one thing to ask you. Why did you kill Annabelle?” Abel ignored her comment as if it was not even worth thinking about and demanded his own thoughts. “Let the halfbreed go.” The girl stubbornly shook her head. “I will not let you touch Mason!”

“Woah, wait a minute. What are you talking about, woman?” Lewis interrupted her rudely, stepping forward. The girl only shoved him back hastily to ‘protect’ him from Abel. “Dominic will come, don’t worry.” She promised.

Abel rolled his eyes lightly. “I’ll kill him if he comes.”

A flash of red in the corner of his vision caught his eyes and Lewis turned swiftly, cursing his absence of former supernatural powers.

Dominic stood there, arms crossed and white eyes flashing dangerously. He stared at Lewis then back at Abel, then back and forth again.

“You,” he demanded, and Lewis noted that his eyes were bloodshot and exhausted if it was even possible for a nine-tailed fox. “Get out.”

“Me?” Lewis asked incredulously while Abel seemed like he was agreeing silently in the inside and didn’t want anything more than to do what Dominic had said. The crimson fox gave a tired jerk of his head. “Yes. Both of you.”

Abel gazed at him and made a rude hand gesture. “You’re making me want to stay.” Dominic’s eyes drifted down to his open wounds that were hastily wrapped up with dirty, torn clothes and his nose crinkled. “Your blood stinks.”

The receiving end of the insult snorted in disdain. “My blood’s pure. His would stink.”

The jerk of Abel’s chin he gave to Lewis’s direction without even looking at him made Lewis’s blood boil. He yet forced himself to take a deep breath and tightened his temper enough for it to not erupt but also snap at only a slight disturbance. “Shut up, and just let me see Mason.” He said as respectfully as he could manage. The girl blinked at him in incomprehension and Dominic seemed to notice her existence for the first time.

“Beverly, go back to the forest and don’t come here again.” He told her and she nodded obediently, shooting a last, lingering and hateful gaze at Abel before running into the forest in a fast sprint.

Dominic’s stance immediately tensed further and he crouched lightly, his tails appearing and glowing as bright as they could. His bare feet shifted and turned more like a fox’s as his claws became longer and sharper. Two elongated fangs poked through his scowling lips.

As if he had been dying for the moment to come, Abel took a similar stance, willing his own tails to appear. He grinned and it crept up to his ears quite literally, showing off all his fangs.

Lewis stood uncertainly right between them then backed off, raising wary hands to defend himself but the two didn’t seem to care.

“Been a long time since we pounded half the life out of each other,” Dominic hissed, getting ready to pounce. Abel merely grinned wider in response. The shadows creeped closer to him and in reaction, his wounds gushed another fresh round of blood that smelt strongly of iron.

“Wait!” Lewis intervened and both of them whipped their glares at him, a new target…

… but then Abel straightened up stiffly and flexed his fingers. “Make it fast.” Dominic shifted his attention to the obvious halfbreed, slightly surprised that Abel didn’t rip the youngling’s head off for his interruption.

Lewis took a deep breath. “I’m here to meet Mason.” Dominic snorted. “You request too much. Aren’t you supposed to be grateful that I didn’t kill you for wearing those clothes of a Hunter?” He seemed to give it a second thought. “Maybe I will.”

A growl rumbling from deep down his chest, Abel stepped in front of Lewis, surprising all. “You won’t touch him.”

Lewis couldn’t help but wonder if Abel was doing it because he really didn’t want him to die or if he just wanted to piss off Dominic. It was the latter, probably.

Dominic raised an eyebrow that soon returned to a flat line. “Then so be it. Go find Mason, talk and then get out.”

Lewis grinned, barely suppressing his giddiness. “Finally we’re talking.” Abel didn’t seem to share his joy and narrowed his eyes instead. He lifted his chin up in an obvious sign of challenge for battle and blood. “What happened? What did you do to him?”

Lewis looked at him, confusion blooming on his face, while Dominic’s face seemed to age another century. “A slip of tongue and he was storming off.”

Abel was standing in front of him in a blink.

“You told him?” He half screamed and half whispered. Dominic shook his head grimly. “No. I was about to say it but I managed to stop myself before the worst happened. But when Mason sees you… in front of him, so much angst in his mind…” Something deep inside Abel’s eyes seemed to crack. “… He’ll want an explanation. He’ll be driven by rage. And he’ll blame you.”

Lewis chuckled nervously, understanding what was going on or at least most of it. “If I’m there, I might be able to calm him down.” Abel shook his head in denial repeatedly, his hidden age finally taking its toll on his soul, wearing it down with burdens that were too heavy to bear. “No. You’ll just be a…” He trailed off, and Dominic gave him an unreadable look before improvising. “A trigger.”

Abel nodded in agreement dejectedly. “Yes. A trigger.”

The world spun around him and made Lewis feel sick. “I thought that I could see him.” Dominic shrugged. “You can. It’ll drop someone in a very… as the mortals say nowadays… a very deep shit. But you can see him. Nobody will stop you. You have my word.”

Beside him, now visibly deflated emotionally, Abel nodded, his tails drooping, depressed.

Lewis stared at him, suddenly wanting to see the slightly insane but normal side of the nine-tailed fox. “So, if I heard right, it was by your mistake that my brother came to know about the… accident?”

Dominic turned away. “Yes.”

Lewis growled at him, willing the sound, which he had forgotten over many years of living as a Hunter, to roll out of his throat and tongue. It sounded so natural that it was almost scary. “And you’re not guilty? It’s kinda your fault, you know.”

Shifting his gaze, Dominic lidded his eyes halfway lazily, ignoring the way Abel was staring into his palms beside him. “No. I do not regret my actions for it was bound to happen one day. Also, if he didn’t make such a rash decision in the past, he wouldn’t be haunted by the shadows of it in the present.”

Lewis’s hands clenched into a tight fist and his human fingernails cut tiny, white crescent moons into his palms. “You’re a sick fuck.”

Abel’s jaw looked unhinged and Lewis resisted the urge to say something about it. Dominic released a harsh bark of laughter. “Interesting. That’s what your brother said to me earlier.”

Abel quickly collected himself into his usual, maniacal calmness. “That sounds like him. Then I’ll be leaving.”

As Lewis glared at him but didn’t object, Dominic shook his head, closing his eyes. “Just as you said yourself, you must face Mason. It is, after all, best that you explain it.”

Lewis opened his mouth to protest. Just seconds before, he had come to the sudden realization that if Abel had to explain everything to his brother, then he would have to tell him why he was directly involved in his mother’s untimely death and that was because Lewis was a halfbreed. He didn’t want to see how Mason would react to the story.

Abel saw his barely noticeable change of expression.

“No.” He gritted out. “Lewis can do it.”

Dominic’s face crumpled lightly in response. “Coward,” he snarled, “no wonder I cannot bring myself against the decision I made.” Lewis stared at them, bewildered at the course the argument had taken on.

“You shall not speak of the past!” Abel yelled, his voice pitching an octave higher than usual.

“I can’t see anything in front of me other than a cowardly fool who runs away from his troubles, not a former friend of mine.” Dominic shot back, his nostrils flaring.

Lewis could see something snap in Abel’s eyes and he was instantly frozen in fear.

It was nothing like he’d ever encountered before while he was living with the Hunters, facing many dangers and occasional foxes. He truly understood why everyone feared the nine-tailed foxes, how they were the creatures closest to god. Abel’s eyes were molten silver and swirled with insanity and unconfined rage, even the whites of his eyes. Lewis shuddered on his feet as Abel released a guttural scream that promised death and torture.

I said, a deep voice that only sounded a little like Abel’s rumbled in Lewis’s mind, and he was sure by the way Dominic’s mouth set into a thin line that he had heard it too. To not bring it up.

Narrowing his eyes, Dominic roared a shout of his own, and Lewis heard his voice in his head also. You have no say in the matter, for you refuse to acknowledge what you’ve done, taking away your own rights! His voice was more in control but angry, booming and imperious.

It was too much for even a normal many-tailed fox to bear, and Lewis fell to his knees, protesting against it but crumpling nonetheless. He had just wanted to see his half-brother again…

We end this here. Abel whispered, sounding broken, yet have given up enough control of his mind to his anger. I can tolerate you in the world no longer, my friend.

Dominic shook his head and let his fingers dance along the shadows that the sun casted on the grassy ground. Nor do I wish to hear those disgusting words coming out of your vile mouth. Friend… what a pity. He hissed back.

Their muscles coiled, ready to cover meters of space in a single bound. When they finally did, it was with the decision that both of them had the winds backing them up, and the timing was just right.

Abel met Dominic midair and tackled him onto the ground, landing with his fist ready to smash in any face. Dominic didn’t allow it to happen and instead, head-butted him and reversed the position, kneeing him in the stomach. Both growled ferociously, like animals they truly were and not humans they looked.

Lewis could swear that he heard ribs crack.

Throwing Dominic off of him with his powerful legs, Abel landed on his feet in a crouch and sprang upon his opponent, who swiped him across his already wounded chest with four razor-like claws. Red dots splattered onto his face.

Lewis scrambled back wildly, barely dodging a kick that Abel intended to hit Dominic’s face with. The foot was caught before it hit the target and Dominic twisted it and threw him back, lowering his guard for a second.

It was a mistake; a mistake was not allowed in this type of fight, for it could mean death; mistake made one the defeated one, the weakling; and the weakling was doomed from the beginning.

Abel rolled into a ball when he was a meter away from the floor, fell down, touched it with his toes and jumped up with the shadows raging behind him. He grabbed Dominic’s left shoulder before he could react and tightened his grip, crushing every bone beneath his fingers into tiny pieces. His long claws dug into the flesh before Dominic swatted him back with force, using his uninjured hand. This time Abel hit the ground and skidded back hard, the impact jarring the ground and knocking the breath out of him.

He clutched his chest and breathed heavily while Dominic tended to his own injury in the split second. Lewis could only watch in daze -a grapple between two bodies that flashed between a fox and a human- on the floor.

In a blink, they were ready and charging like two mad bulls again.

Dominic threw the punch this time, and it connected squarely with Abel’s sternum. He smothered a pained yelp and fell, but as he did, took a shaky step forward and sank his fangs into Dominic’s forearm. And he tugged. It was a sharp snap of his jaw and he was stopped by two choking hands on his neck before he could cause a permanent injury. It had to be stopped sooner and it wasn’t.

Abel almost tore the arm off and the word almost did its job well, seeing that muscles and flesh tore and bones were nearly wrenched out of place. Blood spurted out of the tear and Abel would have pulled harder, would have pulled more if not for Dominic attempting to break his neck.

Weakly, Abel forced his teeth out of the forearm and licked his lips, tasting blood, and then dropped onto the ground, escaping the chokehold. He swept Dominic’s feet out from under him and the crimson-tailed male fell right on top of him face-first, but not before landing a good kick to Abel’s ribs and two broke.

Blood was all over them and still pouring out from wounds, both new and old -in Abel’s case-. They would have looked like two war corpses if not for the furious snapping of their jaws, saliva mixed with blood flying through the air as the result, and their tails -alive and swishing through the air angrily-. Or their limbs, entangling with one another with full intent to break and tear and kill for blood. Or, furthermore, the sounds - roaring, snapping, occasional gurgling of blood, breaking, cracking and sickening tearing of flesh and muscles and veins.

He meant what he said, Lewis thought, he’s willing to end it here for good. He almost forgot about what he was truly here for -to see Mason after centuries of being apart- but his feet were glued to the spot. He couldn’t move.

☪

Mason sat by himself beneath a dead, fallen log which was supported up by two rocks. His right hand rested on a knee, drawn up to his chest, and the other lay limply on the ground.

He was mad and he had every right to be so.

Dominic was hiding something from him - something about his dead parents and Abel. The nine-tailed fox knew that it was a sore spot for Mason, yet had stabbed it anyway, and it hurt - someplace near his heart was being squeezed tightly, not enough for him to cry out in pain but still tight. Mason lowered his head, closing his eyes, letting only a sharp gasp escape when the pain intensified.

He missed his father. Terribly. He also missed Lewis, his brother, and wished that he had seen more than the severed tails of him; such as a last look of his face.

Where he was resting at was where nobody would ever come except for himself. He grew up in the forest along with his father and brother, and he knew every single trees, could familiarize every single leaves and breezes. It was the Dead Area of the forest which had dead trees - piled up in a fine, black heap - dead animals, some white bones and some still rotting away, and a huge hole.

The hole was bottomless and had no reason for being there. It wasn’t a sinkhole and it couldn’t have been dug by men, because they had never come into the forest before. It wasn’t made by any many-tailed foxes. They would have been stopped by the others and would have been recorded in history if they truly had dug the hole.

There was a record of a young, naive fox who had fallen into the hole. He was never seen again.

In front of Mason was the hole, about a hundred feet wide and who-knows-how-much deep, a black, gaping mouth of a monster. He had the same, sudden urge again - to go to the edge of the endless hole and look down to see what he could. He once had done it, and when a new urge to jump came into his mind, he had moved away hastily and never again did he get close to the edge.

The Dead Area of the forest was deathly quiet and nothing moved. A lonely shiver passed through Mason’s body and he abruptly stood up. He had always found comfort in the Dead Area -and he still did- but right now, he needed actual company.

A bird cried out from far away, and the breathings of the numerous foxes gathered in the forest became more erratic and nervous. The Dead Area finally felt the force of what was happening and it started to move. Mason didn’t see what was moving, but he knew that something was. He didn’t wait to see why, but he shot forward without looking around to check because he felt it. The promises of death and a hate so great that it made a cold breeze start inside one’s body, even who was not subjected to it.

As Mason tore through the dead logs and leaped and sprinted, the feeling became more obvious. He had felt it before. He was just too afraid to let the fact into his brain. Instincts brought him closer to the outline of the forest and he passed many foxes along the way, including Beverly. But she looked shaken and she had Abel’s scent on her body, only faintly, but it was recognizable.

“Beverly?” He gasped, coming to a sudden halt. She looked up, startled.

“Yes?”

“What’s happening?” Mason inquired carefully, just to make sure that he was right, although he wished that he wasn’t.

Beverly looked vaguely curious. “Abel’s here, Mason, along with this guy who looks like you…”

He nodded, pondering over the “guy who looks like you” statement for only a split second. Another chill went down his spine, and Mason began to run again, this time faster.

He could hear the growls now, and even as he drew closer -partly with morbid curiosity-, a bone in a body snapped into many pieces. A furious snarl soon followed and a pair of feet dug into the ground.

Mason burst out of the forest, leaving the canopy of trees and the foxes behind, and stopped on the grassy field that surrounded miles around the forest. A wind tinged heavily with blood rushed into his lungs and he held back a gag. It seemed like he was the only one who had dared to look at the two nine-tailed foxes. Almost immediately, he could see the reason why.

Both Dominic and Abel had their tails out which glowed red and gold brightly -two colors that would have gone nicely together if not for the situation- and Abel had his long, sharp fox fangs sunk right into where Dominic’s left collarbone was, his teeth scraping the bones, for they were piercing so deep. His whole eyes were glowing molten silver.

Mason saw that Dominic’s left arm was nearly torn out of its socket.

Dominic was not letting Abel possibly end his life. His hands, with red fur on them, making them resemble paws more than human hands, were clawing at Abel’s exposed back. The sharp claws on his hands tore through skin again and again, and the sight of Abel’s ribs and torn muscles, nearly drowned out by blood, made Mason feel slightly nauseous.

They rolled around on the ground a several times, squishing each other beneath another’s heavy body each time. Just like what a predator would do, Abel moved his head left to right with his jaws still biting on Dominic’s collarbone and attempted to rip out a good amount of flesh, muscles and possibly a major bone. Dominic’s hands flew up, sensing what he was about to do, and punched him straight on the cheekbone. A sickening crack followed and Mason saw bones pierce the flesh on Abel’s face, indicating that the punch had broken the bone.

Dominic stood up hastily with a slight stumble, lay his hand on his raw shoulder and looked at the blood on it, the wild fire in his eyes flaring up even more.

Roaring in pain and rage -Mason briefly wondered how a fox, nine-tailed but still a fox, managed to roar more ferociously than a lion would- Abel flew back but leapt forward again like some sort of an uncoiling spring, resisting the force of the blow. Dominic didn’t dodge and stood with his feet firmly planted on the ground.

They met with a thunderous impact, both bodies smashing against each other, trying to knock the opponent onto the ground. Neither succeeded, and therefore they opened their mouths and rumbled a ferocious snarl -indicating that they weren’t going to hesitate in ending a life here- in an animalistic way. Both of their bloodied teeth glinted dully in the afternoon sun as their lips were bared, showing all their fangs to intimidate one another.

Mason thought that he would have fainted if he was the one who was looking into Abel’s deranged eyes.

His eyes never shifted from the skirmish, and therefore failed to notice a man who shared striking resemblances to himself, sitting himself up with shaky arms only a few feet from the two foxes. His white hair was falling into his eyes and they were wide, his mouth agape even wider.

Lewis watched Mason stare at Abel and Dominic in a stunned silence, his chest only slightly moving up and down, holding his breath. It was his brother, right there-only a two dozen meters away. It seemed like a mile.

Mason finally managed to tear his eyes away from Abel and Dominic and when he did, he saw Lewis on the ground, frozen in fear.

Lewis saw his brother’s eyes study him curiously then harden.

Mason saw a Hunter who, disgustingly, looked like his long-since-deceased brother.

Despite it, his eyes drifted over to the two nine-tailed foxes again- just in time to see two crimson and gold furred foxes abandon any defensive positions or plans, if they even had any, to spring for each other’s throats at the same time.

“NO!!” Mason screamed, his head clearing of the fear that had once clouded it thickly. He started to run forward but paused in mid-step. I would never make it in time, he realized quickly. The foxes were almost at each other’s throats. Think quick. No plan. Think quick.

With a single, muscle-straining bound, he covered the space that separated him from Dominic and Abel and at the same time, sank his fangs as deeply as he could into his wrist, making sure to pierce the artery. The knowledge that it would heal eventually, and hopefully quickly, didn’t help quench the pain that shot through his arm. He almost yelled out at the same time his own blood rushed into his mouth, choking his throat, but he held it back, squeezing his eyes shut to contain the trembling agony.

As he landed, his foot slipped and twisted sharply to the side. Sprained, Mason thought groggily. The worst landing in my whole entire life. He tightened his fangs around his wrist even more, determined to not let go.

No sound of throats tearing or bodies assailing each other reached his ears, and Mason exhaled with his nose in relief. He hung on to his own limb for a long while before realizing that Abel and Dominic didn’t seem to be trying to kill each other anymore.

In fact, everything was so silent and still that it was starting to grow uncomfortable.

A body collapsed onto the ground with a heavy thud and a pair of footsteps began toward him. Mason knew that he had to let go now, but his entire face seemed frozen. He couldn’t pry his own fangs out of his own wrist. He choked and coughed, trying to get the thick, boiling blood out of his throat in vain. His lungs felt hot and stuffy. The coughs were muffled and the liquid only flowed into his body even more.

“Next time,” a voice growled in his ears, but it was not harsh. It somehow sounded worried. “just tell me if you want to suicide.” A pair of gentle hands grasped his jaw and pulled the sharp teeth out of his flesh, which was immediately covered in blood, the thick, red liquid pouring onto the ground like a waterfall. Mason opened his eyes and looked up dizzily into a pair of all-so-familiar golden orbs that were mixed in with bright yellow.

He looked behind the eyes and the face to see five tails, dotted with silver - the silver that was just like his fur. They were glowing and curling in the air happily, and the golden eyes blazed fiercely.

A disbelieving smile found itself on his lips as he leant down to cough up any excess blood in his lungs and mouth violently, and allowed his eyes to tear up for the first time in centuries. A hand that did not belong to him wiped away the blood on his chin and face as best as it could. He gently pushed it away, for it was blocking his sight, and strained his senses to memorize every single details that the fox owned.

“Brother.” Mason whispered the only thing that came into his mind, and his legs crumbled underneath him.