REDEMPTION

— by Jeff Karamales

Chapter 34
The Fox and the Dragon
 

Winter had brought the first snow, but it was fairly mild compared to what Kurt Reichmann was used to in his beloved haunts in the Black Forest back in Germany, and he believed that the colonists would fare extremely well in the careful utilization of their supplies as well as salvaging what was available from the previous Felis settlers. The snow had been light with the only oddity the occurrence of thunder and lightning with the falling powder. Surely it was a rare enough event back on Earth, but in their little niche of Bastien it seemed to be a common phenomenon according to Etienne du Chevalier.

Kurt could trace his family line back to the heady days of European colonialism, and the brave princes of Prussian ancestry when exploration of the New World was the en vogue undertaking of established nations. As such he respected and admired the courage of the Felis that had come before him and the rest of the Abeona colony as much as he admired the courage of his fellow Vulps and had taken it upon himself to try and maintain the grounds and domes of the first group as a way of honoring them.

Today, however, was a day to contribute to the meals that his fellow Vulps enjoyed, the former grounds keeper stalking game with one of the modern bows that had been included in the armory module with a full quiver of broad head, graphite shaft arrows. Hunting was literally in his blood, his paternal Great, Great Grandfather being one of the Jaeger Meisters, the Hunt Masters, to Kaiser Wilhelm himself before the Great War, and had been a passion handed down from father to son for generations.

Tracks outside of the colony perimeter contained prints from an animal the previous Felis colonists had called a rab-zelle, a curious creature approximately a hundred and fifty pounds that looked like the odd pairing of a gazelle and, of all things, a rabbit. The fur on its hide was incredibly soft, and with its winter coat established, would make a fine blanket for him and Siobhan to cuddle under. The hooves had two larger toes facing forward and two smaller ones facing back giving the animal surprising stability. While the head was somewhat cervine in shape, the snout was a little wider with the fuzzy nose pad forming from the upper bifurcated lips, and the four long, spiraling horns that sat in front and behind the long, lop ears had been turned into excellent musical instruments or different tools by the South American grey fox, Ruiz.

The tracks approached the pens where the livestock was kept before meandering close to the fencing then angling sharply to the trees on the eastern ridge. Kurt smiled as he surmised the rab-zelle had discovered the wires were electrified when it tried to get in to share the fodder of their terrestrial animals and bolted. While great sprinters, the rab-zelle didn’t have much in the way of stamina, and it was likely the beastie was in the woods trying to figure out just what happened.

Kurt was most cautious when he approached the woods, ensuring that there wasn’t an errant breeze to carry his scent to his prey. If anything the air was almost dead calm and the platinum fox, his white and speckled coat actually aiding in his own winter camouflage, as did his sun bleached furman clothes that had gone from pale blue to light grey, slipped an arrow from the quiver on his right hip and knocked it to the string.

The Fur had to admit that he’d first had his doubts about volunteering for the Anthro Human Colonization Project. But after meeting those like Hector de la Vega and Richard Tavington, not to mention his relationship with the Irish vixen that had so efficiently snared his heart, life was a most enjoyable thing to Kurt. He was a better hunter now thanks to his heightened senses, new body and found that he was more at ease than ever before when it came to traipsing through the woods, even these strange lands of this new world.

Bastien was a challenge, and he reveled in learning about his new home, how it worked, the creatures that inhabited it, and how he could better fit into the grand scheme of things. That was one of his personal philosophies that had helped the most. Too many people saw the world around them and wished to shape it to their needs, where Kurt wished for a more symbiotic relationship, and relished learning how to adapt his own perspectives and skills to where he was.

To put it simply, he felt alive, and was finding his life more enjoyable, fun and fulfilling than ever before.

Crouching down to move more quietly and reduce his visibility, something that was far easier in his furmankind form than when he’d been a man, Kurt followed the tracks between the velvety trunks of the Bastien trees, his yellow eyes darting from the ground to left and right before jerking back down again, following the tracks, but also not wanting to inadvertently run into the rab-zelle.

Marks in the thin snow that had drifted down between the trunks of the dormant trees that were now colored a strange combination of red and purple without their curious tendrils being filled with chlorophyll, Kurt found where the animal had nibbled at the snow for either moisture or forage before wandering on.

Then as the fox stepped down with his left foot, he paused, the shadowy depths of the woods suddenly feeling different as a musty scent like wet dog mixed with fresh bay leaves caressed the Fur’s nostrils, the smell telling him that the animal he stalked was near. Kurt drew the string for the bow back, most of the motion being an extension of his left arm as he raised the bow, his right paw-like hand pulling arrow and string back so that his thumb was just behind his jaw and sighted down the shaft of the arrow.

The rab-zelle moved between two trunks, its head lifted as it nibbled from low branches with a little winter foliage, the bifurcated lips working almost like fingers as it deftly pulled the choicest tendrils from the Bastien plants to be nibbled upon. It hadn’t seen the anthrofox, and Kurt couldn’t ask for a better shot to ensure a clean kill.

Letting out his breath slowly through his partially opened mouth, the former German entered that moment where thought and action were one, his furred, clawed fingers releasing the bow string with a muffled thrump! that the animal only had a moment to notice before it crumpled where it stood.

Never one to let an animal he hunted suffer needlessly, Kurt leapt forward, his hunting trousse at the ready, the broad knife that had belonged to his grandfather of good, hand-forged high carbon Solingen steel ready to deliver a coup de grace if necessary. No sooner did the platinum fox kneel, blade poised, his palm pads on the rab-zelle’s neck when he let out a sigh of relief. The kill was clean, the arrow having found the beast’s heart. He smiled warmly at the creature, the curve of the back set of horns telling him this was a buck, the Fur petting the animal’s neck.

“Thank you for the gift of your life, little brother,” he said softly in his native German as the knife went back into the sheath at his back, just to the right side of his tail and he put both paws on the creature as if in benediction. “May your body sustain the lives of my family and friends as your spirit finds solace in the plains of the afterlife, and when we meet again, may I sustain you as you have me and thus continue the cycle of life as it should be.”

As he began to methodically dressing down the carcass, pausing a moment to partake of a few choice tidbits with all the reverence of a form of communion, Kurt thought about all of the places that he’d hunted, the different peoples that he’d accompanied back on Earth, and smiled at the similarities between the Aborigines of Australia, the bushmen of Africa, and the Native Peoples of the United States and Canada that had almost the same prayer of thanksgiving for the creatures they took down in their hunts. It always struck him as more than proper to thank the animals he killed. This creature deserved to be consumed by his new family, being more than worthy of aiding them in their new life, and it felt proper to honor his prey.

On a more mundane level, Kurt was rather proud of the rab-zelle buck being the largest he’d brought to ground so far. It would go quite far in filling up the colony’s food supplies, never mind that Siobhan loved to eat grilled cutlets of the beastie and Kurt enjoyed feeding them to her in the privacy of their dome.

Once the meat and various parts that the Fur discovered were quite the delicacy were rendered down into manageable cuts he wrapped everything in the hide and put together a travois to haul his bounty back to the colony. Humming softly to himself, a song that his grandfather had taught him long ago in the deep woods of the Black Forest, Kurt began the short trek back to Abeona, the path almost the same one he’d followed. It was a little more direct to angle towards the small pond that sat almost a mile from the eastern perimeter of the settlement, the glade that was formed a popular place for many of the Furs to enjoy picnics or use as a swimming hole and such when the weather was nicer. It had also been a place that Kurt himself had enjoyed several times with his Siobhan.

He idly noted the thin scum of ice that had formed on the shallow pond, seeing something slightly out of the ordinary for several seconds before realizing just what it was. Distortion from the angle that he looked at the curiosity from combined with the rather dim daylight made details hard to distinguish, finally aware of just what he saw due to the bright green clothing the Fur wore. Dropping the poles of the travois, the red fox leapt forward, going as fast as he could in the frigid water until it rose past his waist and trudged resolutely on.

Whichever of the colonists it was had been in the water long enough that rigor mortis had already come and gone and the eyes had already developed a milky white hue. It wasn’t until Kurt lifted the limp, waterlogged form from the pond that he realized it was one of the Adirondack Furs.

“Joel,” the German said in a shocked whisper, placing the name and vulpine face to its owner, having noted the American not by anything outstanding that he did, but by the simple reason Joel performed every task that had been asked of him without complaint and without stopping until it was complete and the manner that he devoted himself to the wisp of a vixen, Charity Hanover. He had been quiet and rather unassuming but also very polite.

When the head lolled back on limp neck it exposed a deep cut that started at one ear and followed the line of his jaw shape. Then Kurt noticed that the red fox was far lighter than he should have been and as he lifted the body up his robe-like top fell open revealing that most of the furred flesh approximately six inches below his throat was gone, exposing off-white bone.

Kurt had seen animal kills in his time, but he’d never seen someone he knew in such a state and couldn’t help it as he dropped the body back into the near freezing water and thrashed wildly on his way back to the shore, panting and fighting his rising gorge. It took several moments of deep, calming breaths to stop his head from spinning or his stomach from wanting to empty itself and when he felt a little more in control, the red fox got the small radio from his pack at the end of the travois.

“This… this is Kurt…” he panted heavily, squeezing his eyes closed as another wave of nausea struck.

“This is Operations, Tipper speaking. What’s up, Kurt?”

“I need… I need Sofiya… at the pond. I’ve found…. I think I’ve found Joel. He… he’s dead.”

***

Riva finished her examination, a grim expression on her face as Sofiya stood with Richard, Kurt and Hector. Elena and Mandy had remained back at the colony to comfort a distraught Charity. The German was looking resolutely at the body, the corners of his mouth taut in a frown. “This is a predator kill. I have seen them before. Whatever did this was able to take him and brought him here to feed.” He turned to the red fox vixen. “We…we need to find what did this. Too much of him is missing. It is not like a predator from Earth. I think it liked the… the way he tasted. I cannot allow something like that to threaten the others.”

“You won’t hear me arguing,” Richard agreed with a nod. “There were bears in Alaska that developed a taste for human flesh and once they began stalking humans there was only one way to solve the problem. Whatever did this might be seeing the rest of us as something new and palatable.”

Sofiya weighed what the two males were implying as she turned to the bat eared vixen. “Riva? Can you be giving an approximate time as to how long Joel has been out here?”

The former Israeli pulled the plastic body bag over the Vulps’ remains and peeled the thin rubber gloves from her hands as she stood. “Without the proper facilities to do a proper autopsy I can only guess, but I’d put it between ten and sixteen hours. Rigor mortis has come and gone in the intact extremities, and the eyes aren’t cloudy enough yet for it to have been much longer than that. Whatever animal did this killed her the same way the predators we’re used to would, biting down on the throat to suffocate, but it also caused deep lacerations. What’s really weird is that there should be two wounds like the one that’s on his throat, but I’ve only found one.”

“Then it is something that the previous colony hasn’t seen, nor have we,” Hector told the others.

Richard shook his head. “I’ve gone over every documented animal the Felis encountered and there was nothing in their archive that I saw that could make wounds like that. Some of the other predators, the rock devils, dire cats and things are sort of aggressive, but none of them are big enough to pull someone even as large as Joel all the way out here.” The silver fox sighed. “Kurt, you’re a better hunter than I am. Feel like helping me find tracks? Maybe we can get an idea of what did this and neutralize the threat it poses.”

The red fox male nodded solemnly. “I have a full field kit, plus the meat from the rab-zelle I took down. We’ll have provisions and the ability for a fire.”

“What of shelter? You will need a tent and other gear,” Riva said with a look of concern.

Richard smiled. “I don’t plan on doing a lot of sleeping and I don’t want to be weighted down with gear or have to bring a horse to carry everything. Hector can leave Kurt his rifle, plus we have my own, a pistol and his bow. I’ve been in worse places and situations with less. We’ll be alright.”

“When you leave, take the same path you made coming here,” Kurt instructed the others. “If there are tracks it will mean less chance of obscuring a trail. We have already made enough of a mess here.”

Hector passed over the rifle along with a pair of spare magazines for the semiautomatic weapons. “I am not sure that this is a wise decision…” the grey fox confessed. “We do not know what kind of animal this is. It might be more than the two of you can handle.”

“If it is more than Richard can be confronting, then it will be too much for anyone else,” Sofiya said, giving her mate a nod as she stepped up to the smoky furred fox. “I am confident in my liubyy.” She pulled her mate closer and ran her cheek alongside his. “Just come home safe,” Sofiya whispered, the look in her yellow-green eyes as she pulled back intense with a hint of worry.

“We’ll call in every two hours for progress reports,” Richard promised. He kissed his vixen while Kurt helped Riva with putting Joel’s remains in the body bag. “Tell Siobhan… tell her…”

“You’ve gone hunting,” Riva supplied after sealing the zipper and putting a paw on the male’s arm. “I liked Joel. He was a good person. Make sure that this doesn’t happen to another of our people.”

Kurt nodded silently and waited for the others to depart with Richard standing close, the silver fox scanning the snow covered ground. As soon as the others were out of sight, they split up to canvass the perimeter of the pond, the German calling for the other when he found substantial evidence of the event between two snow frosted hummocks along the edge of the water.

“It brought him from that direction,” Kurt pointed out. “It is no wonder we didn’t see it earlier. The ground is so irregular that even with the snow the drag marks are difficult to see.”

“He was still struggling,” the silver fox said as they examined the marks. “Not a lot, but he was still alive when whatever it was got her here.” Richard pointed at a clear impression in the snow. “Look here.”

Kurt knelt to examine the track more carefully. “These are long strides. Almost two meters… six feet from print to print.” His nose twitched as he sampled the air over the mark in the thin snow before his muzzle wrinkled in reaction. “It has a most unpleasant, pungent odor.”

Richard followed suit, his reaction similar. “Wow. That’s some powerful stink. I wonder if it rolls around in carrion?”

“There are many predators back on Earth that have strong scents to them. I am not of the mind that those here should be different.” The red fox continued to look at the print, examining the ground more closely before finding another print that seemed to be moving away from the site where the unknown animal had feasted on their fellow colonist. “The prints have not only pushed the snow down, but they have also pressed into the ground. I would put it at nearly one hundred fifty kilograms.”

“Three hundred and some odd pounds…I’d agree,” Richard said. “Especially considering the size of the prints.”

“These marks here, these are looking to be some very formidable claws.”

“I’m guessing it’s bipedal. If it went on all fours there would be one print right behind the other. Now I know it’s not something that’s been documented. These head off to the Vestibule, that small glen the Felis traced the river to at the foot of the mountains.” Richard narrowed his eyes as a small rip in the overcast sky passed over them, bathing both Vulps in white-orange sunlight before the scudding grey clouds closed up. “That would make sense. It’s only a few miles and has suitable caves for shelter and would be well within a hunting range for a large predator that moved into the area.”

Richard stood facing the direction the tracks led but was halted by Kurt’s hand on his arm. “I don’t like killing animals for no apparent reason. I don’t kill what I do not eat or use to feed the others. This creature, however, must be put down. It is a threat to all of us. That is something I cannot allow.”

The silver fox looked quizzically at his cohort. “I know, Kurt. I don’t like killing any more than you do, but I’m not going to let something jeopardize the others either. Not when I’ve got kids on the way.”

Kurt nodded. “I… I know this. It’s just that I am…unmanned by the thought of something that threatens Siobhan.”

“We’ll make sure that you two have a long time to make little Kurt and Siobhan Fuchs kinder,” Richard told his friend with a grin.

The smile was infectious and Kurt couldn’t help the return grin as he nodded and the two followed the tracks in the snow before the breeze filled them in any more than it already had with the loose powder.

***

The remains of several tree imps and a juvenile rab-zelle along with more tracks indicated that the two Vulps were indeed on the right path when they found a small area that was completely trampled outside of a cave that was partially sheltered by a fallen tree. Strange droppings and piles of scat were further evidence the two anthrofoxes were correct in assuming they’d found the predator’s den.

“We only have about an hour of light left,” Kurt whispered, his breath fogging before it was carried away on the turgid, cold air. “I do not think it would be advisable to go in there.”

“You aren’t kidding,” Richard agreed. “Personally I’d give a lot for a grenade or five right now. Or a white phosphorous. Willy-Pete would definitely be my choice for this. It’s too much like a horror movie.”

“Should we set a snare or try to lure it out?”

Richard shrugged, looking intently at the dark opening. “I’d rather get a look at this thing, first. We really don’t know what we’re dealing with. I think it might be bes-”

Before the silver fox could finish his statement a rain of snow and tree debris in the form of the normally fuzzy looking bark that had dried to a desiccated crust fell upon the foxes. Jerking their heads up, both Vulps felt a thrill of fear run through them as they spied the animal they’d been tracking, simultaneously intrigued and repulsed.

The creature let out a trilling screech from its open maw, a high pitched sound not unlike a discordant whistle; its throat bobbed up and down rapidly with the noise before it leapt from its perch on the side of the tree that had concealed it, taloned toes digging deep into the wood like a bird roosting on a vertical rod. The animal spun in midair, landing on its rear legs, facing the pair of anthrofoxes, and balanced on its rear legs, reminding Richard of the depiction of velociraptors from a decades old movie about cloned dinosaurs that escaped their island captivity.

That, however, was where the similarities ended.

The feet followed the standard seeming configuration for most of the creatures on Bastien with two, large forward facing toes and two rear facing, though there was a substantial black, curving claw at the ends and a strange webbed membrane that filled the gaps between the pairs of digits. The chest was deep and narrow, giving the animal a look that bespoke volumes about its speed, and even through the matted, mottled grey and dirty white coat of coarse, shaggy fur it was easy to see the rippling of muscles as it shifted weight from one leg to another. A long, serpentine tail helped counterbalance the creature’s lowered stance, and the end had a wicked looking spade-shaped flaring of serrated bone.

The head bobbed up and down, side to side on an ‘S’ shaped neck, but the rest of the animal was the stuff of nightmares.

The arms had a pair of rudimentary manipulative organs, like extra jointed fingers. Where a third finger might have once been, the animal had evolved a long, sickle-like claw, making it look like some strange cross of dinosaur and praying mantis. If the animal had grabbed Joel using those, it was easy to see why the wound to the fox’s throat had been so odd.

It was the head and the completely alien features that caused fear to grip the two Furs, though. The long, tapering skull ended with three triangular teeth that fit perfectly into the notches formed by two similar ones on the lower jaw, each on glistening white and sharp, much like a sharks. Behind those, instead of more teeth were long, serrated ridges that seemed more like shears.

The long, wide ears resembled those of a bat, and homed in, swiveling left and right, on the two Vulps. It was the absence of anything remotely resembling eyes that was the strangest feature, where ocular organs should have been was a series of membranes that a strange clicking noise emanated from that neither would have heard while they had been fully human.

When Kurt swore in whispered German, the animal turned to face him, its mouth opening as a snake like tongue flicked the air in the platinum fox’s direction, though instead of a bifurcated end, it had three tentacle-like tendrils and was colored an unwholesome purple.

“It uses echolocation!” Richard hissed, his words drawing the creature’s attention to him.

“Was is das? Sound?”

“Yeah,” Richard grunted as he clicked the safety off his rifle. “Sound.”

The report of the round being discharged from the rifle caused the creature to shriek in sudden pain, its large ears folding back as it shook its head vigorously, its whole body recoiling at the sudden painful noise. At the same time, the sickle shaped claws snapped up as the beast raised its arms and the fur along its back stood on end with a series of short spines as it adopted a clear threat posture.

Kurt had nearly screamed with the tension that filled him and then the sharp crack of the other fox’s rifle, but he had enough of his wits to realize that Richard had been right. Putting his whistle in his teeth and blowing with all of the breath he could muster, the platinum fox shouldered his rifle and took aim. As his second lungful of air blasted through the simple noisemaker his finger tightened on the trigger.

So enraged and frightened was the animal at the strange, painful noise that it seemed oblivious of the bullet that slammed into its chest, blood that that was black and thick looking spurting from the wound. It made as if it were going to lunge forward, unsure which of the two strange beasts it wanted to attack first, the sickle-claws raking the air in agitated, ineffectual swipes as its head whipped left and right.

Richard followed Kurt’s lead, his own whistle in his mouth, blowing every time he let the breath out of his lungs in short, shrill chirps. His own shot was a little to the left of what the silver fox automatically thought of as the keel bone of the animal’s deep chest, that wound also dripping the almost ichor that the creature used for blood. When the dark fluid began to foam, Richard knew that it he’d hit a lung, though it was Kurt’s next round that put the animal down, the seven millimeter round either striking the heart, or close enough so that hydrostatic shock of the bullet caused enough internal trauma as it passed from air into solid matter.

Both watched intently as the animal sagged, Kurt’s whistle falling from his mouth to dangle on the lanyard around his neck as he started to lower his rifle. Perhaps it was never taking for granted that an animal was down until the last shudder ran through it, or the enhanced reflexes of his hybrid body, but Kurt was able to raise his rifle across his body to catch the sickle shaped claws as the animal lunged forward bringing both of its natural weapons down in a lightning fast attack. The platinum fox was able to catch both, one on the heavy alloy barrel of the rifle, the other on the carbon composite stock as he was driven to the snow covered ground.

“RICHARD!”

The silver fox felt a moment of horror flood him as he wondered how he would tell Siobhan that he’d gotten her mate killed before years of instinct and training snapped a lid over his emotions, allowing him to slip into the mental place that had become all too familiar during his time in the Marines. Not even considering the danger to himself, the Fur leapt into action, his weapon leading the way and almost placed the muzzle of the rifle barrel in the oversized ear the strange creature had before pulling the trigger.

That last shot did what the ones to the chest hadn’t, separating the brain from the rest of the body, though the convulsions were bad enough as the predator that was unlike anything either anthrofox had seen before went through a series of death spasms for several long seconds.

It wasn’t until the beast fell over, the twitching and jerky flailing of its limbs and the final deflation of its chest that the silver fox moved to help his friend up. Once Kurt was on his feet, both panting heavily that Richard felt the strength of his body leave him. He sat down hard, barely registering the platinum fox’s startled exclamation, only aware that something was wrong when the German began to shred his own top, wadding up some of the cloth and pressing it to the silver fox’s side.

“The tail,” Kurt muttered. “I saw it hit your side.”

Richard looked down, his eyes widening as he saw the amount of damage, astounded that he hadn’t felt anything. “This isn’t good.”

Kurt worked furiously to tie strips of more cloth around the other male’s body to hold the impromptu bandage against the injury. “I need to get you back to the colony. I cannot treat this well enough.”

“Radio Abeona,” Richard said as he recognized his lassitude for shock and shook his head to clear it. “If I travel it will make the bleeding worse. Call for a wagon. You’ll have to meet them to guide them here. It’ll be dark soon.”

“I cannot leave you!” the platinum fox snarled. “It is cold and getting colder. It can kill you!”

Richard again shook his head. “It’ll help for the time being. I can’t run, and I really don’t think I can walk.” He placed his paw-like hand on the other’s arm. “Believe me, I don’t want to die, either.” He saw the indecision and chagrin in Kurt’s eyes. “It’s okay. I’ve had worse, and I’m a lot tougher now. Help me make a little fire then go. I’ll keep the rifle, I’ve got my pistol and a flare gun. I’ll be good for a couple of hours.”

Kurt did what was asked, pausing only to relay a quick message back to the operations dome, thankful that none of the silver fox’s vixens were on duty at the radio before checking on his friend one last time. He knew that Richard was correct in that he’d have to lead the rescue party to where Richard was, but it still tore at his sense of duty as he dropped to all fours and ran as fast as he could in the direction of the colony.

***

Richard did everything he could to stay awake and lucid, but the loss of blood was substantial and he lost that battle after less than half an hour. He doubted anything would approach the den of the animal that he and Kurt had dispatched, but scavengers were both bold and timid, constant opportunists that would be observant for any chance at a quick, easy meal, something he didn’t relish in the slightest.

As his thinking became more muddled, less clear and a little disconnected, the silver fox really didn’t think too much of it as he was treated to visions that were wholly outlandish or a parade of human faces of people that he’d once knew that had worn the same uniform as he had in a time way-back-when. In fact, Richard didn’t think this strange at all until he watched a figure materialize out of the gloom around the little grotto he and Kurt had found the creature. Even Joel only paused a moment before shaking his head with a small smile, swallowing hard as Sofiya’s father, Nikoli, came and sat down next to him.

“That is being a very bad wound, Richard,” the man said. The ghost made a show of holding his hands out to the fitful little fire the Fur had and smiled ruefully. “Ah. I have always been liking a good fire, but I am thinking that this isn’t really enough to keep you properly warmed.”

Richard blinked at the man, not trusting himself to speak, his heart fluttering in his chest.

“I am thinking that it was a very foolish thing, just two of you trying to face the unknown. Very foolish indeed, Richard. How are you to take care of my daughter and the children if you are dead?”

“I… I couldn’t risk… anyone else,” the fox stammered in his defense. “Too dangerous.”

Nikoli gave the Fur a withering look. “No. It is because you feel you have to be,” he smiled in amusement, “superman. Trust those that are with you. They are being very capable. If you would let them, that is.”

Richard wanted to reply, but Nikoli’s face began to change, almost like a sped up film of the process that he and the other Vulps had gone through at the different Furmankind Institutes.

“You need to pay attention,” the constantly shifting features of Nikoli said firmly.

“I…I’m trying…”

“Not hard enough. Richard! Look at me!”

Nikoli finished the shift from human, but he had taken on the features of Riva, becoming a bat eared fox who regarded him with intense, citrine eyes.

“Come on, Richard! Stay with me!” the vixen yelled, tapping his muzzle sharply with two fingers.

“Riva?” the silver fox asked, his eyes rolling behind lids that felt so heavy. “Where’s Nikoli?”

The Israeli vixen swore as she shined a light into the male’s eyes. “Hurry up with that IV feed, Valerie.”

Richard was only vaguely aware of the slight sting as a large needle was pushed into his arm and tried to look at the others that had materialized around him, most of them holding up rechargeable lanterns.

“Alright, we’ll give this a few more minutes to bring his blood pressure back up, and then we’ll get him in the wagon.” Riva directed the others, her orders crisp and clear as to what she wanted what seemed like half of the colony personnel to do, and made no exceptions. Once she felt that the silver fox was stabilized enough for travel, the group got the Fur into one of the wagons that had been brought, wrapping him in blankets and chemical warming packs before starting the trek back to Abeona, the second crew that had come gathering the animal that the two foxes had killed.

“Where did Nikoli go?” Richard asked again as his eyes opened once more just before they rescue party came into view of the lit domes.

“We don’t have a ‘Nikoli’ in the group, Richard,” Riva informed him as she checked the IV flow that carried plasma into the wounded silver fox.

“But Sofiya’s dad was there. I was talking to him…”

The bat eared vixen shook her head as Richard slipped into unconsciousness once more, this being far from the first time she’d had a patient that had become delusional from injury and blood loss. She was simply thankful that there wasn’t a dozen more patients lined up for her to treat after tending to Richard. “Okay. Let’s get him into the dome,” she ordered as they stopped next to the colony’s infirmary.

— NEXT CHAPTER —

Unless otherwise noted, all material © Ted R. Blasingame. All rights reserved.