Into The Wild

Chapter 1

Deer, much like man, have defined social structure. Complex rules are laid over every new head the moment he or she is born. While in the wild deer are not monogamous creatures, the same cannot always be said of the more "domestic" variety. Newplains was a small city that hosted a wide breed of citizens but the vast population of the small town was made up of whitetails. Sure, there was a tiny trendy bar owned by a sleek otter, a squirrel librarian, and a large family of rabbits that seemed to run all of the gas stations for miles… but mostly, there were deer. Oscar, a young buck that had just come of age, was related to roughly 65% of the town; a crippling statistic when it came to the dating-verse. His mother, however, wasn’t as picky as her solitary son. Her dating life was the talk of the town and once her young buck moved out, it was a sure fact that she would be knocked up and looking for a third job again. It didn’t leave Oscar with a high opinion of the town.

            “Hey Mom?” Oscar began, dragging his spoon through his brightly colored cereal.

            “Yeah?” replied Burcinda as she poured herself a second cup of coffee.

            “Why don’t you come away with me when I start college next month?” asked Oscar.

            “This isn’t about co-signing, is it? I can’t afford to sign any college loans, Oscar. You know that,” she replied flatly, making a face at the strength of the coffee.

            “No, it’s not that… It’s just that… well there’s better jobs up at Monopolis and different sorts of people and you know… You wouldn’t have to settle for Buck the guy that shoots while standing in the back of a pick-up truck or Ralf who changed his name because he couldn’t pronounce it….”

            For a moment, Oscar’s mom gawked at him before she sat her coffee cup down and began slathering her lashes with more mascara. “There is nothing wrong with Buck, Oscar. He’s got a job, for starters.”

            “He’s also got three other kids from three different women,” groaned Oscar.

            “And?”

            “He didn’t even hang around for the last pregnancy to make sure Dee had the baby alright…” Oscar shoved a spoonful of fruity oh’s into his mouth and gave them a spiteful chew.

            “Can you blame him? That woman. Ugh. Talk talk talk. That’s all she does.” Burcinda glanced down at Oscar who had returned to stirring his mushy breakfast rainbow. “…Stop abusing your cheerios and get dressed. The aforementioned ditch daddy is coming over. He’s going to take you with some of the boys from town to do some hunting. You really should get to know some of the guys here. You’ve started growing your prongs and you’ll never be able to get a girl if you can’t get along with the head boys of town. People talk, you know,” she lectured, making sure her tank top sat low enough and her jeans high enough.

            “People like Dee?” asked Oscar with a roll of his eyes. Dee was a nice gal. She didn’t talk about anyone, really. She kept to herself. The whole town was surprised when Buck had gone and knocked her up rather than going after a more popular, younger woman.

            Oscar didn’t usually pay attention to what he looked like. He was growing into a handsome young buck, but he wasn’t as rough and clean cut as most of the other boys in town. He had a long, unruly plume of bangs that were a little too dark to match the rest of his fur. They refused to lay down and when he cut them, they tended to stick straight up rather than behave themselves. At the back of his nape, the hair that matched his fur was pulled back into a short braid. Most of the men about town had military buzz-cuts though few were involved in the service.

            Today, he pulled on a pair of black jeans and rolled them up to mid-calf. He always hated having slacks dangling around his hooves—it made him fall face-first into concrete nine times out of ten. He might have been a good looking buck, but he was far from graceful. Even his mother was a little klutzy. It’s probably what kept her from being top doe in town. A white thermal shirt was selected for the upper half, an orange button-down sleeveless shirt layered on top. He didn’t want to seem paranoid… but he didn’t want the drunk idiots to shoot him either. Hunting wasn’t a past-time he enjoyed. Once he’d trapped his pants on his hips with a belt, Oscar returned to the kitchen and dumped out his fruity mush.

            By the time Oscar’d finished scrubbing the fruity bits out of his bowl, Buck had let himself in and slipped his hand in Burcinda’s back pocket. It was obvious what the man wanted. The bull-excuse of getting to know “the son,” as Oscar was called, was clearly an excuse. Ralf was standing in the entry of the tiny house, gawking up at the hall clock. “Clock’s a whole hour off, y’know,” commented Ralf.

            “Oh, I know. I been after Oscar to get up and fix it from Daylight savings, but,” trailed Burcinda, pinching her brows toward Oscar.

            Oscar grinned and scratched the back of his head. “Eh… Sorry, mom. I forgot.”

            Ricos, a lean deer who never seemed to keep his muzzle trimmed, was jawing on a toothpick, glaring between Oscar and Burcinda. “You still call Burcinda Mom? Don’t you worry what the guys will think?” Ricos was clearly disgusted. “How old are you again?”

            Oscar frowned but didn’t say much in reply. Scuffing his hoof on the ground, he mumbled. “Eighteen.”

            “Ah, lay off, Ricos,” Buck began, flashing an amorous grin to Burcinda. “Birdy doesn’t like it when you pick on the kid.”

            “He ain’t a kid no more,” Ricos countered before turning to leave. “I got the cold ones in the back of the truck. Let’s geddahell out.”

            “Alright. Alright,” Buck groaned, inappropriately sucking the lips off of Oscar’s mom before he gave his large rack of antlers a dull shake.

Ralf was still winding the clock all the while flipping his tail in time with his twisting. Ralf had a lot of odd nervous ticks. Oscar often wondered if the man was all there. Hanging the clock up, Ralf clicked his teeth, saluted Burcinda, and slung an arm around Oscar before dragging him out. “Bo’, I tell you…we gonna shoot us some wolves today! Fawny said she heard ‘em bayin’ last night.”

“Uh…wolves?” Oscar grunted, swallowing hard.

“Yip,” Ralf replied.

“He’s scared,” Rico teased, seating himself in the driver’s seat of the car. Crudely, he cracked open a beer caring little for the no open can law.

“I’m not scared,” protested Oscar. “…I just don’t understand why we’re hunting to begin with. I mean… we’re deer.”

“You ain’t never tasted no meat?” asked Ralf, sounding more surprised than mocking.

“Of course he hasn’t. He’s a pussy.” Rico jibed.

“Not all of us are manly enough to eat meat, Rico,” Buck replied, clearly intending to insult Oscar more than reassure him.

“Manly,” Oscar mumbled, seating himself in the bed of the truck.

“I don’t like no meats neither,” Ralf replied. “Tried it once—‘n’ it tasted like chewin’ on a round a shot.”

“…ew,” Oscar grimaced.

“’The hell you know what shot tastes like for, Ralf? You been drinkin’ too much?” asked Ricos.

“Naw,” replied Ralf. “One time I was re-loadin’ and I held the canister of shot pellets in my mouth like so? But I fergot I left the plug out ‘n’ all the little shots rolled into mah mouth.”

The truck rolled into a large patch of woods. All of the men of town knew the front quarter of the reserve well. There were places you weren’t supposed to go beyond for fear of wild animals and a complete lack of trails. Buck, on the way down, had decided they were going to over-step the trail just a few meters to try and get close to the place where the wild wolves ran.

“Can you believe the wolves adapted into normal folk like us too? I mean… You’d KNOW deer woulda done it… but wolves. Ugh. Is there a more disgusting creature? Outside of cougars,” Buck spat.

“I dunno,” Oscar replied, rolling his shoulders. “I don’t imagine civil wolves are anything like the wild ones of the forest.”

“Figures pussy-prat would say that,” Ricos complained, loading up his shotgun.

“Well, for starters they can talk. Wild wolves don’t talk… or wear clothes… or go to school or anything like we do,” Oscar argued. Ricos narrowed his eyes and tossed Oscar the spare rifle.

“Safety on when you’re walkin’, Prat-boy,” Ricos warned. “You ass-shoot anyone and I’ll put a hole in your head.”

“Calm down, Ricos. You put a hole in his head and –“

“Birdy won’t ride your birdy. Yeah, yeah,” Ricos growled. “Why don’t you let us have a go when you’ve had your turn.” Ricos snarled while lifting his rifle. With a loud crack, he pointlessly shot down a hawk overhead.

“GUH!!!” Oscar shouted, covering his ears.

“Maybe we should let him use some plugs fer his ears since it’s his first time ‘n’ stuff?” Ralf asked.

“Who uses plugs?!” Buck laughed, watching the hawk fall into the brush. None of them went after it—the left the poor bird to waste. Oscar winced at the falling bird, but kept his mouth shut. Wandering after the crew, he fell last in line, Ricos being first, Buck wandering close beside the rough talking Ricos. Ralf got stuck carrying the beer, his gun slung over his shoulder. Oscar was a little uncomfortable with that given that the barrel was almost always pointed straight at him.

“Do you ever get used to the noise?” Oscar asked, stepping over a large gopher hole.

“Yah. ‘n’ the blood ‘n’ guts too,” Ralf replied.

“…Guts?” Oscar replied, paling three shades whiter.

“Well sure. You gotta gut ‘em before ya take ‘em home.” Ralf clarified.

Oscar swallowed hard, feeling his stomach roll over a few times in his fuzzy tummy. The quad walked for a while in relative silence, save for Ralf’s now-and-then commentary on the weather, a mangled ‘coon corpse, or any other mundane detail he thought the crowd had missed.

Ricos remained sour as ever, glaring straight ahead as he stalked for something to aim his gun at. “So this were we gonna camp or what?” Ricos remarked after a few hours of hiking.

“Looks good enough to me,” Buck shrugged.

            “Wait… We’re camping? –Why so far out?” whined Oscar.

            “Whassamadder? Wanna go back ‘n’ sleep with your mama?” Ricos mocked.

            “Hmm. That doesn’t sound like a bad idea,” Buck cooed, a drunken grin spreading across his muzzle.

            “Oh shut up,” Oscar spat only to yelp a moment later as Ricos lifted him by the scruff of his vest.

            “Watch your yap, ya little shit,” Ricos snorted, drawing his hand back to backhand the poor runt.

            “Here now. Here!” Ralf growled, pinching the meat of Ricos’s ribs.

            “AUGH—The **** do you think you’re doing?!” Ricos screeched, dropping Oscar. He gave chase to Ralf, who skittered away from him, laughing drunkenly the whole while. Oscar, on the other hand was not so amused. His heart was hammering in his tiny rib-cage. What was Ricos’s problem!? Why did Buck let him do the things he did? –and why was Ralf the only decent one of the lot?

            Grumbling, Oscar leaned back against a tree a few paces away from Ricos, watching with half-hearted interest as Buck kindled a small fire in a circle of stones. The trio had obviously camped out here before. He was tired as they’d hiked all day to come to the point, but he wasn’t sure he was tired enough to fall asleep amid a forest full of potential predators.

            For dinner, the boys managed to bake a can of baked beans and weenies over the fire. Somehow they all thought it tasted great with beer—even Ralf who had earlier proclaimed his dislike of the meat. Apparently he was a few too many cans in to realize what he was eating. Oscar, content to leave the mystery meat alone, was content with the ‘Toasty Timothy’ bar he’d shoved into his jeans pocket earlier. Sure, it was junk food and hardly a meal, but he didn’t want to go out of his comfort zone to try any beans and weenies.

            Buck wound up slouched beside the tree nearest the fire. Ricos had fallen asleep slumped on the tree to the right of Buck; his gun clutched tightly in his sleep. Ralf had fallen asleep a little too close to the fire—face down, no less. Ricos had squashed a beer can on his rump sometime after he’d fallen asleep, but Ralph didn’t seem to notice; flicking his tail now and then. Oscar was half tempted to nudge the big oaf away from the fire, but didn’t have the heart to wake him. He vowed instead to stomp the fire off of him if he did manage to roll into the fire. Sleep wasn’t exactly possible that night for little Oscar. Owls hooted, mystery creatures shuffled in the grass, and the wind was chilly that night. He’d only fallen asleep when the early hours of the morning rolled around and by the time he’d just gotten comfortable, he was awoken rudely by a jeer.

            “Ugh. Oscar, you pansy! Get up—you pissed yourself!”

            “N- Nn?” Oscar moaned groggily. His head felt fuzzy; his limbs were heavy. He wanted to roll over and go back to sleep and yet, he suddenly felt the wet heat at his groin. Gasping awkwardly, he glanced down and closed his legs. “A- Agh!! ---Noo, it’s not what you think!” Oscar had half-expected to see Ricos’s jeering face but instead, it was Buck. Somehow he was grateful that Ricos seemed to be missing from the team at present, but it hardly made up for his embarassment!

            Buck and Ralf laughed in unison for a while before waving the runt off. “Shit boy—you musta fell asleep with yer hand in somethin’ wet and warm— you smell awful!” Ralf snorted. Somehow Oscar was a little more hurt by Ralf’s decision to make fun of him as well.

            “Shut up—I’ve just never had beer before,” Oscar growled, quickly untucking his shirt to hide the glaring stain. It didn’t do a very good job.

            “Whendidjyu have a beer?” Ralph asked dumbly, lifting a brow. Truth be told, Oscar hadn’t had any beer, but he wasn’t about to fess up to that.

            “Last night. You guys got pretty drunk… so I decided to try one…” Oscar lied.

            Buck lifted a brow but burst out laughing, slapping the kid on the back. “I knew you had it in you, ya little shit!” he guffawed, offering the kid’s head a playful noogie before he released him. “Ah, but let’s get back to hiking. Ricos is already a good mile ahead of us. He didn’t want to wait. He said he was going to wait for us while he had a smoke a little ways up the path,” Buck grunted, thumbing at the trees. He must have seen some kind of trail or land-mark… but Oscar saw nothing that indicated which direction they should have all been headed.

            “Uh…right… I’ll just stay down-wind for your sakes for now,” Oscar mumbled. Oh he wanted so DESPERATELY to go home and crawl into bed. Why oh why had his mother insisted that he socialize with the town ‘guys’? The trio gathered up their rifles and shuffled between the trees, avoiding gopher holes and stumps.

            “Suit yourself,” Buck shrugged, though even he thought it was a good idea. Boy-wee wasn’t the most pleasant of smells. So the morning began again—and without breakfast this time ‘round! Oscar’s tummy was aching by the time they reached a small thicket of berry bushes. Ricos finally came into view and he was crouched down beside the bushes. Oscar was relieved that by this time, the embarrassing stain on his groin had since dried out leaving his delicate flesh beneath the fur rashed and irritated. Walking was becoming something of a pain now.

            “Can we eat those?” Oscar cooed quite suddenly, his mouth watering.

“Shaddap,” Ricos snapped, nudging a few bushes aside. In the clearing, a few coyote were digging up some bones that had been half buried by the winter erosion. So much for taking time out for a few berries! “On my mark… and don’t fall behind us, Oscar—or you get left.” Ricos warned, leveling his gun.

“Wait—you aren’t going to shoot those, are you? They’re so little –“ Oscar whimpered.

“Okay go!” Ricos shouted. The thunder of gunfire surrounded Oscar. It was all he could do to shut his eyes and cover his ears. He had been waiting to hear the agonized yipping of the coyote, but apparently Ricos had missed. A few profanities ripped out and then, the thunder of hooves sounded. They were on the move, and Oscar was gawking after them.

“What? Wait!!” Oscar called, scrambling to his feet. Sprinting after the trio of older deer, he panted and shivered. The gunshots had really frightened him. He felt as though he were running in slow motion. What he’d neglected to notice was that he’d dropped his rifle in the clearing. Even without the rifle, he felt weighed down. Maybe it was the idea that he knew they were possibly killing a pair of animals that looked harmless as puppies to him. “Guys!!” he called out, yelping as his slender hoof fell into a gopher hole. A sickening SNAP! sounded as he fell forward.

“U-Uhn! Ooh!” he cried out loudly, yanking his little hoof from the hole to hold it against him. “…Buck? Ralf?” he cried out. There was no reply. He couldn’t even hear the men stomping through the bush anymore. Every now and then he heard a few stray cracks of gunfire, but they were long gone by now and his ankle was throbbing!

Oscar wasn’t sure how long he lay in the pile of wet leaves, holding his ankle tightly. He only allowed his attention to re-focus on his surroundings when he heard a rustling in the bushes beside him. The hair on his neck stood up on end as a low growl ripped through the air. Oscar couldn’t even force a scream—his breath was trapped at the back of his throat. From the breast of the green foliage, a scarred nose immerged. Two eyes, bewitching as sparkling honey bore down upon the young buck. The twin moons were driven by molten anger and as the massive shoulders and torso of the snow furred beast came into view, Oscar felt his hot, wet fear escape across the groin of his shorts for the second time that day. Nose to nose with terror, the whites of little Oscar’s eyes shown just as brightly as the row of gleaming pearls the wolf revealed as it pulled back its upper lip. The boy’s breath soon escaped him, though it was in juvenile whimpers. Hot tears matted the caramel fur of the little buck as his ribs heaved with terrorized breaths. Every fiber of his body was screaming: “Run, you idiot!” and yet his body would not comply. Even the ache in his ankle had given way to fear; all that remained was a pinhead dull, dead, nothingness atop which a mountain of instinctive fear balanced precariously.

The wolf, who had since crouched over the boy sniffed the air. Smelling the boy’s fear, the beast grimaced and took a pair of steps back. Snorting in disgust, the wolf leaned back and sat on his haunches. It was then little Oscar noticed a glint of gleaming gold hooked into the wolf’s left ear. A series of earrings hung from his ear as well as a small plume of black and white feathers. Once the wolf had sat upright, Oscar realized that the wolf was indeed a man, though perhaps not as “civilized” as he considered himself to be.

“W- Why—Who?” Oscar began. He shifted to stand up on his ankle, but immediately howled in pain.

The wolf glanced down to the little deer’s twisted ankle and canted his head to the side. Reaching forward, he gave the tissue a squeeze and snorted again.

“UGH—Ow! Let GO of me—that HURTS!” he wailed. The wolf snapped its jaws at him, forcing the poor boy to yelp. “Don’t! Please don’t! Don’t eat me, I’m not a wild deer!” Hysterical, the boy began to sob, clawing at the moist leaves to try and wrench himself away.

Snorting one last time, the wolf spoke. His voice was low and beautiful, melodic and lonesome. “I am bound only to eat the winged ones.” The boy was hardly comforted and choked out an odd noise as he continued to claw at the leaves. “Stop that,” the wolf commanded quietly. “You will attract animals that prey… and I will not stop them.” The boy cried out once more. He was clearly too terrified to come back to himself. Growling, the wolf curled his clawed paws around the back of the boy’s shirt and stood upright. Dragging the shrieking child along beside him for a while, he headed deeper into the woods. “Your scent is strong. Stop making noise,” the wolf chided.

Oscar was relentless with his fearful cries, though his attempts to wrench away from the wolf was more cumbersome given that his ankle was too injured to stand on. The wolf gave the boy an abrupt toss and with an icy splash, the young buck found himself up to his ribs in cold stream water. “AUU---UUH—“ he shouted in chilled agony.

“The smell,” the wolf explained callously; “I wish it gone. If you are smelled, they will come for you. I will not stop them.”

Wet, tired, and cold, the little buck finally lifted his eyes to the wolf. Enraged, he squirmed in the water, shivering violently as he shouted. “You already TOLD me that! What do you want from me?!”

“I wanted to remove the smell,” the wolf grunted.

The little buck’s chin quivered as he glared the wolf down. “I don’t care how I smell right now! I just want to go home!”

“I wanted to move you… He had smelled you,” the wolf continued, canting his head to the side as the little one threw his tantrum in the water.

“I don’t care! I don’t care! I don’t care! –Ugh—I just want to go home,” he repeated, tears welling down his cheeks as he struggled to crawl on his hands and knees to the bank of the shallow creek.

The wolf stepped forward and grabbed the scruff of the boy’s clothes and yanked him free of the water. “The shore is muddy.”

“Then don’t throw me in the damn water!” Buck shouted, taking a swing at the feral-looking man.

The wolf bore his teeth at the boy; his long silky white fur swaying as he snarled.

Oscar winced but tried his best to remain strong. He wasn’t going to let some mentally unbalanced hermit tell him what to do, toss him into creeks, and push him around. He’d gotten his fill of that from the three stooges that left him for dead on the trail. “Knock it off you stupid mutt and put me down!”

The wolf glared the boy down but obliged. Crudely, he set the boy down on his feet, only to watch detached as the little buck grabbed his ankle and fell backwards onto his wet seat. “UHN—IT HURTS!” he shrieked.

A faint rustle sounded in the bushes behind them once again. Suddenly, a pair of great golden eyes were upon them. It was a small deer mouse, though his half-lidded gaze suggested boredom with the scene, as though he’d been expecting to see a soggy boy and a half-naked wolf. “He has smelled it,” the mouse murmured with his eyes fixed on the wolf. The wolf snorted and waited for more information. “By and by, he comes,” the mouse added.

“Who comes? What are you mumbling about?” Oscar demanded.

“Rigel?” The wolf replied.

“Who is Rigel?” Oscar inquired.

“He leads him on with the flute and foot,” the mouse replied.

“He is a good man,” The wolf concluded.

“WHO?!!?” Oscar shouted childishly, flapping his arms like a stranded buzzard. Both the mouse and the wolf looked at Oscar, but refused to answer such a tantrum. It seemed that when the ‘adults’ were talking, the children were meant to be silent.

“We must move him quickly,” the mouse added, scurrying back toward the thicket from where they had come.

“Move? Wait—I’m not a dresser! You can’t just take me somewhere without my say-so!” Oscar was beyond furious now. Who were these fruitcakes and why had they suddenly taken charge of his life?

The wolf, once again, refused to answer the boy and lifted the boy into his arms. Oscar grunted both in fear and from a small twinge of pain that radiated from his ankle. He was relieved not to be scuffed for a change. The wolf held him bridal-style for the time being. “Now hold on—I demand to know where we’re going!”

The mouse did not stop to entertain the boy’s squealing. Instead, he pressed on, leading the way through the thicket on all fours, much the way a wild rodent might have. Unlike the wolf, the mouse was wearing a great deal of clothes. An open-sided tunic had been stitched and dyed intricately with triangle patterns of brown and indigo. The coarse weave of the fabric suggested that, perhaps, the mouse had made the clothing himself. None of the party had shoes to cover the pads of their feet. They must have been terribly callused! Oscar always had been thankful to have hooves instead of pads. He had no need for shoes. Over the mouse’s head was a sack-cloth hood. His scraggly brown locks hung out from the front of it, long and uncut. Much of his hair was tied back with an old brown rag. Though they looked questionable, neither the mouse nor the wolf had a foul odor. Oscar seemed to be the only one that boasted that. The brief dip in the river hadn’t exactly gotten rid of all of the smell he’d troubled himself with.

As the wolf fell into smooth gate after the mouse, Oscar glared up at the wolf and squirmed. “I’ll scream right into those ears if you don’t start talking, dog!”

The wolf snarled at the word dog, but quickly calmed and replied: “Raise your voice little buck, and you will have reason for the noise.” Before Oscar could process the threat, a firm “POP!” rang out across the woods. A firey pain raced across the seat of his trousers. It didn’t take Oscar long to realize what the wolf meant.

“OUTCH!!!” he shouted before sucking in a breath to hush himself. He did not want a second helping of the wolf’s palm. The deer’s lower lip pooched out in pout for a moment. “I still think I deserve to know where I am going…”

“We would do you no harm—now be silent. The wood has ears,” the mouse murmured gently. The pair broke into a sprint; greenery spinning passed little Oscar like ream of green crushed velvet. By the time they stopped, his empty belly ached. Standing before them was a moss-green enterance to a cave. From the mouth, a small stream flowed, the shallow, gentle bubbling boasting a few pan fish that darted about like silver treasures amid the polished rocks. While the entry, overgrown with vine and moss was beautiful, Oscar’s mind raced with fear. They wouldn’t take him in to kill him, would they?
            “Please! I don’t want to go in—I want to go home!” Oscar fussed, his eyes brimming with terrified tears.

The wolf said nothing but proceeded into the cave before the mouse; his massive paws sloshing through the water wetly. Though there was enough walk-room to walk out of the creek inside the cave, the wolf remained in the water to hide his scent. The cave was chilly and dark. The further in they went, the more alarmed Oscar became. Whimpering, he seized up fistfuls of the wolf’s shoulder hair and pulled himself closer. “No—Please, take me out! It’s dark!” he choked.

Rather than reprimand the boy, the wolf allowed one of his paws to slip behind the boy’s head, pulling the boy’s face into his shoulder as though to hush him. A dim light soon washed over them after they had walked a good way into the cavern. Barely visible was an ancient stone face inside of which a tiny wood door rested. The wolf crouched down and shoved the door open. The door was appropriately sized for the mouse, but not so much the wolf. Once they were inside, a dim light radiated down from small holes drilled up through the cavern. Presumably it was daylight filtering down through the holes, like starlight. The holes had been drilled to mirror constellations. Someone had gone through an awful lot of work to make a house in the middle of a forlorn cave! The cave itself was nothing grand or modern. There was a carved basin for a sink; an old wooden pump resting beside it which pumped the water up into it. There was a counter beside the carved sink and a small pit for coal embers. A small kettle was warming over the embers, tiny promises of steam rising from the cast iron spout. Furs and thatch covered the floor and walls, likely to keep the damp chill at minimum. The whole place had a spiced scent to it like warm cinnamon and nutmeg.

The wolf relaxed his grip on the little buck in his arms. It took a while for Oscar to realize he was whimpering out loud. Once he did realize, a dark blush stained his features and he pulled back from the wolf’s shoulders. “Nnh… Why did you bring me here? Why couldn’t you just tell me where we were going? Why did you hit me?!”

The wolf paced over to the pile of rabbit furs on the ground and laid the little buck in them. All of the furs were slightly silvered, but delicately soft. “Mhn!” the boy grunted, whimpering at the pain in his ankle. Little Oscar wiggled his leg uselessly, realizing he would not be walking anywhere for a while. “How is my ankle going to get fixed here?”

The wolf wasted no time in piling a few throw pillows beneath the boy’s foot, elevating his ankle. Next he wrapped a slim bit of hide around the boy’s ankle and tied it tightly. “It will keep the swelling down… try not to move it. Tomorrow we will move it,” the wolf concluded.

The mouse, restless as ever, began pacing by the exit. “Rigel comes,” the mouse murmured.

“Who are you people?” sniveled Oscar.

The wolf refused to answer, but the mouse turned to look upon the little buck. “…I am called Karna. The white wolf is called Kaneonuskatew. The rabbit, Rigel, will join us soon. He comes quickly,” the mouse murmured in a distant  voice, allowing his eyes to drift toward the enterance.

“…I can’t say half of those names. Why can’t you people pick normal names?! You’re all…” Oscar complained.

“Kaneonuskatew is what every adult male is called in my tribe. Would you have my people change their way to suit your preference?” the wolf grumbled.

“Yes,” Oscar mumbled sourly. “It seems kind of mean to name everyone the same thing…”

The wolf canted his head to the side curiously. “…mean?” He repeated the word as though he almost didn’t understand the meaning.

“…You’re for real? You guys aren’t just messing around? You’re really all…. Savage?”

“…Savage?” The wolf repeated again, confused again. Narrowing his eyes, the wolf replied. “Was it not your people chasing the young coyote with their guns for the thrill of killing?”

“…well, I don’t know if—“

“Were you not to partake in such a game as well?” the white wolf added mercilessly.

“Shooting at Coyote was not my idea… and Buck has this stupid idea that you can’t be a man until you kill your wild counter-part…and eat it,” he groaned, shivering slightly.

A wild splashing interrupted the little meeting. In an instant, a thick furred brown rabbit was standing in the doorway. Unlike the other two, his hands were on his hips and he was standing proudly. His chest was heaving from his grand gallop down the waterway. “I can hear you three arguing for miles. What’re you going on about? I believe you should all be applauding my return!” The rabbits easy-going grin let the little buck know the rabbit was kidding. “It isn’t every day the graceful Rigel outruns the bloodthirsty Tau!”

The rabbit was every bit as dashing as he acted. He might have been a bit more likable had he not been dressed in a loincloth! “Don’t you people wear CLOTHES?!” Oscar shouted, covering his eyes with a blush.

“Would you prefer I didn’t?” Rigel countered, giving his loin cloth a mocking tease. “Or did you want me to sully mine the way yours look to be—White-Wolf! Why haven’t you tended to our guest?”

The wolf snorted at the mild scold and grumbled through his teeth. “The child cries much. It is difficult.”

“Is it an infant?” The rabbit asked. Oscar blushed furiously.

“I AM NOT AN INFANT!!!” he shouted angrily.

“Oooh! But he throws tantrums like one,” Rigel squealed in delight, clapping his paws together with a grin. Oscar’s jaw tensed as he submitted to the name calling and the rabbit, in turn, saw that Oscar was all too used to such cruel teasing. Clearing his throat, the rabbit shook his head. “Right then—not an infant. But he is hungry… I can hear his empty stomach twisting in agony a mile—maybe even two from here. Do we have any ginko nuts left? Lilly bulbs?”

“Both,” the mouse murmured, gathering a carved wooden bowl. Filling it up with an odd bit of green paste, some dried herbs pressed together, and the aforementioned bulbs, the mouse returned to oscar’s side and set the dish down beside him. “Please,” the mouse murmured before turning toward the exit.

Oscar stared at the strange food and then gawked back up to the wolf and the rabbit. “…but I want to go home,” he whined.

“Mmm, that’s impossible for the time being,” Rigel replied, pacing to the embers and tea kettle. “Tau smelled you and your friends in the woods. He’s going to have his fill tonight, I’m afraid. He’ll probably make a fine meal of those three idiots… the skinny stupid one first… then the strong athletic one… The surly one though—he may get away,” he grunted.

“What?! Who’s going to eat them?! We have to call the police!” Oscar cried, struggling to stand. The boy’s hand clumsily tipped over the bowl of food and sent a lily bulb flying onto the white wolf’s snout. How fortunate that the wolf remained calm and began cleaning up the mess. Tugging the boy to sit flat on his bottom, poor Oscar felt another stinging slap to his bum from the wolf. “Sit and stop upsetting yourself. Your ankle will break if you keep stressing it,” he reprimanded in a surprisingly gentle tone.

“OWWIE!” Oscar squealed. Pity the wolf’s solitary spank hadn’t been so gentle. The boy was tried and frustrated—and now thoroughly terrified. His eyes filled with tears and soon hysteria washed over him again. “No! I don’t want anything to happen to them! I don’t want them to die!” Tears matted the boy’s cheek fur and a sticky bit of dribble slid from his muzzle. Heaving and hiccupping, the boy squirmed to move, forcing the wolf to seat himself behind the child to keep him still. “They – My mom—And Buck…” hiccupping, the boy soon found his muzzle trapped against the wolf’s shoulder. The stiff hug did not serve to calm the boy for emotional reasons, rather, the wolf was rather disapproving of any loud noise. Holding the boy sturdily against his shoulder, he waited patiently.

“Well, they left you for dead earlier,” Rigel countered, lifting a furry brow; one of his bunny ears cocked with his lifted brow.

“Bu-ut I wouldn’t leave them! It’s not decent!” Oscar cried roughly, pushing back against the wolf.

Rigel poured himself a cup of murky brown tea from the kettle. It made the room smell strongly of nutmeg for a moment. “Mmm, he is really cute when he’s upset,” Rigel purred as he took a sip from the cup. The wolf snorted and ignored Rigel’s teasing. “Very well!” The rabbit quickly pronounced. “I will chaise your friends away from the wood… It’s been a while since I’ve had a good prank to pull… I’ll scare them so bad they’ll never—“

“No!” Oscar fussed. “Just tell them! –They’ll turn you into the police… or shoot you!”

“He is a cranky little fawn, he is,” Rigel chuckled. “If I tell them, they’ll come for you. They need be scared from returning to the forest if this be done properly… otherwise, Tau will have them… and what will the point be in sending me to shoo them?”

Oscar groaned in frustration, to which the white wolf pulled the boy against his shoulder once again as though he believed the boy to be an infant. The boy twisted against the soft fur, finding he liked the feel of it against his face. “Mmh—I’m not a baby!” he protested.

“Mm. But you make noise,” the wolf returned quietly, releasing the boy in a detached fashion.

Rigel grinned and half pranced out the door, grinding his teeth loudly. It produced a very frightening noise! Oscar had been cringing into the wolf when the white wolf lifted a lily bulb to the boy’s mouth and pushed it in. “Eat,” the white wolf murmured insistently.

“Mmh—Don’t feed me! I told you—“ Oscar began furiously through a mouthful of food.

“Do not talk with your mouth full,” the wolf grunted, snorting at Rigel’s abandoned cup of brew. He did not approve of the rabbit’s nutmeg habit. Oscar grumbled but chewed up the bulb compliantly. It was… surprisingly good. Well prepared and light in taste. It certainly won out over baked beans and weenies. Having swallowed the boy whimpered. “…Do you think he’ll be able to save them? –and who is Tau? Why can’t we just turn him into the police?”

The wolf lifted another bulb to the boy’s mouth and pushed it in, debating on whether or not to answer the little one’s questions. “Do not worry about your friends now. It does no good to doubt Rigel. He has no reason to do this for you and does this simply of the good in his heart,” the wolf replied.

“I didn’t mean…” the boy whimpered with his mouth full. The wolf reached up and wiped a bit of ginko from the boy’s chin as he spoke with his mouth full.

“They will be spared from Tau tonight. Tau is a hunter—it is all you need know for tonight. He is a lion… lost in a world foreign to him…”

“…Like from Africa?” Oscar replied, lifting his brows.

“…No. His spirit craves despair, blood, and destruction. He has lost that which separates him from the demons.” The white wolf replied.

“…What does that have to do with me?” Oscar whimpered.

“His kind love to prey upon deer most.”

“I’m not a deer! I’m a man!” Oscar grumbled. To this, the white wolf shoved a bit of dried herbs into the runt’s mouth. “eeh—bitter!” he whined half-heartedly chewing the greens.

“Tau does not care.” The white wolf pushed a little more of the greens into the boy’s mouth.

“Mhn! –I don’t like the green stuff!” he whined, chewing just the same. The wolf ignored his protests. “…Why are you helping me?” Once again, the wolf did not answer the boy. Instead, the wolf stared wistfully into the embers heating the kettle. Frowning Oscar turned away from the wolf, full already.

“Is it all you will eat?” questioned the white wolf.

“…I don’t eat a lot,” Oscar replied.

“You will tire easily if you do not eat appropriately,” the wolf cautioned. Oscar was the one to say nothing this time. The wolf snorted and returned the uneaten bulbs to their storage canisters. Glancing over his shoulder, the wolf called: “Undress.”

“W- What?!” Oscar choked, pulling his legs together awkwardly.

“Undress,” the wolf repeated. “Your clothes are filthy. I wish to wash them for tomorrow.”

“I don’t wish it—so get that idea out of your pointed little head!” Oscar shouted.

The wolf groaned and padded back to the boy, pushing the runt to lay back atop the furs with ease. Though the little buck meddled with the wolf’s massive paws, it didn’t take long for the wolf to peel down the boy’s soiled trousers and underpants. Without a glance paid to the little buck, he proceeded to yank the boy’s shirts off, leaving the boy to his fur. Carrying the shirts to the sink, he dropped them in and filled the bucket with water and a small bit of oil. The wolf had to pump vigorously to get the water out of the wooden spout. It must have been an old pump. Oscar hardly had time to watch the wolf wash his clothes. He had since rolled over onto his side and had begun to cry. It was cold in the cave… and he had never been so humiliated in all his life!

“Be still, child. There is no reason to cry.” The wolf murmured quietly as he wrung the clothes through the water to clean them. Shaking them clean, he hung them to dry on a line just outside the tiny door. It was a miracle they didn’t all smell like mold!

Returning to the boy, he tugged a few sheets free of the hides and covered the shivering boy. “You are tired,” he cooed softly, reclining beside the boy. “Sleep.”

Through a dense fog, the boy’s hooves thundered. His ankle throbbed and his breath came out in frosty gasps. A terrifying swish of grass came from behind him, but there was no sound of footfalls or sight of the source of the sound. “Stop! Leave me alone!” the young buck called frantically, but to no avail. Faster and faster he ran until the throbbing in his ankle became so great that he toppled over. It was a horrid blur, but in an instant, the sound made itself known. Crouched over him in a splendor of golden fur and demon eyes was a ferocious mountain lion. The beast’s jaws were soon clamped about the boy’s throat. Wet blood pooled down his chest and just as he felt he couldn’t breathe, a hollow thump sounded between his shoulder blades.

“Child,” a calm voice called to him. The white wolf’s massive paw gently patted the boy between his shoulders once again to rouse the sleeping boy.

“Noo—Uaah!!” the boy heard himself sob aloud. The wolf sat upright with the little fawn and only when he felt a large paw supporting the back of his head did he realize that he had been crying out loud in his sleep. His cheeks were wet and more than his cheeks… the sheets wrapped around him were sadly stained and still warm from his terror. The sensation of choking had come from his sobbing tears flooding his throat and nose. The wet rush of blood? It had been no more than the call of nature answering itself once again. When would little Oscar stop wetting the bed?

“Child, you are unharmed… Hush  now,” the wolf called softly, blowing a doggy snort of breath out against the fawn.

Oscar rubbed his eyes and sucked in a quivering breath. Looking around in a disoriented fashion, he quickly realized what he had done. Blushing brightly, his jaw gapped. Fishing for words, he could offer no intelligent reason as to why the dead had practically been woken with his bawling. “I—I, um…”

“A dream,” the wolf eased, pacing over to the sink to gather a rag up and wet it down.

Rigel was presently seated at the far side of the cave. It was very late now. Karna was now without his cloak and hood. He was sitting in the lap of the rabbit, his large mousey ears dropping wearily. Rigel was licking the little mouse’s palms clean. Apparently the strange people still groomed each other the way animals would have. The only unusual thing was that it was a rabbit grooming a mouse! Karna looked much younger without his hood. He had a very childish appearance in spite of his age.

“I’m… so sorry,” Oscar cried, tears quickly streaming down his cheeks again. “I didn’t mean to wake you up… but I saw…”

Rigel smiled a brotherly grin and chuckled. “Mmm? You didn’t’ wake us up. I woke Karna up a few minutes ago. He fell asleep on watch outside so I’m afraid I’ll just have to put him to bed.”

Karna blushed awkwardly and squirmed, pushing the rabbit’s muzzle away from his palm.

“He’s such a tired little mouse, he is~ A sleepy mouse,” Rigel purred down to the little mouse. Karna whined into Rigel’s shoulder and nuzzled down as though he intended to sleep as he was. Rigel humored the boy and stroked a few of the boy’s long brown locks, rocking the little mouse gently. Oscar blushed. Karna certainly wasn’t a baby! Karna was older than HE was, he was sure of that.

The wolf soon returned to the boy’s side, a very obvious bulky bundle of fabric draped over his arm. Kneeling down beside the fawn, he pulled away the soiled sheets in a smooth gesture, ignoring the fawn’s squirming.

“NO!” Oscar cried, shaking his head wildly.

“Be still,” the wolf murmured, shaking open the folded diaper only to refold it once again so it would fit the little one properly. The little one kicked and wiggled as best he could as the wolf lifted his skinny legs upward. It wasn’t until the young buck planted one of his hooves into the wolf’s snout that Oscar wound up face down over the wolf’s bare knees. It was unfortunate that Oscar knew exactly what that meant.

“NO!! Noo!!!” the boy howled only to feel the firm sting of the white wolf’s massive paw slap down across his bare behind. His composure was gone in an instant. Noisily and without any mannish reigning, the boy began bawling at the top of his lungs. The second smack stung hellishly, and the third distressed him more. Though the flesh beneath his fur was only a soft pink shade, the boy was not a fan of the bee hive that had been turned loose on his hind. It didn’t take but five spanks for the boy to hang limp over the wolf’s knees, sobbing for all he was worth.

“Shame child. You will wake Karna,” the wolf murmured softly. His discretion was greatly unneeded. The little mouse was fussing quietly into Rigel’s shoulder, forcing the rabbit to rock the little mouse a bit quicker. Oscar did not hush. Instead, the boy continued to sob, heartbroken even as the wolf gently lowered him to lay atop the thick cloth. The actual procedure did not take long at all. The wolf nudged the boy’s thighs apart and tugged up the fabric snugly. The fabric was then folded snugly after which, a thin cloth belt was wound around the boy’s waist and tied just above the little buck’s tail. Leaving the boy to lay on his tummy for a moment, the wolf sighed and stroked his hand between the buck’s shoulder blades. “…hush now. What’s done is done.” Oscar beat his fist into the hides angrily smearing tears into the furs amid angry hiccups and frantic gasps.

“Little fawn, if you could hear yourself now,” Rigel scolded in tease.

“My-y name is O-Oscar!” the boy sobbed.

“Oscar,” the white wolf called calmly, lifting the tantrum filled boy from the furs. Seating the boy in his lap, he cupped his hand behind the boy’s head and gently urged the boy to lean into his shoulder, if for no other reason than to hush the runt’s bawling.

The muffled sound of the little buck died slowly, leaving only the light wheeze of little Karna’s slumber-breathing. Hiccupping now and then, Buck wiped his eyes at last. “I’m not a baby… you don’t have any right…” The wolf did not answer. Instead, he nuzzled the boy’s head softly.

“This isn’t your house is it?” Rigel teased. “It’s mine—and those are my furs. If white wolf hadn’t done it, I certainly would have! I won’t’ have little ones marking their territory in my house! It is my territory!” Rigel chuckled.

To this, the mouse stirred and fussed. “It is my house, not yours,” groaned Karna. Apparently he hadn’t been sleeping yet after all!

“Fair is fair… Karna did make the house,” Rigel admitted before offering the little mouse a kindly nuzzle. “But you’re too little to be the head of this house.”

“I’m not little,” Karna protested quietly.

“Little and adorable,” purred Rigel, bouncing his knee lightly. Karna whimpered but hushed, clearly too tired to argue.

“I don’t want to wear this,” Oscar continued quite suddenly, his eyes fixed on the large white wolf that held him. The wolf replied only in holding the boy closer to his shoulder. It was a fight he wouldn’t win… and the stained sheets, now cast away from the furs, weren’t about to forgive little Oscar either. What had he gotten himself into? He’d left to go camping to become a man and now, he’d done the exact opposite. It was just Oscar’s luck.

The rabbit pursed his lips and blew out the burning bit of wax beside him. “Now, all little ones are to be still and rest… tomorrow we will worry about what is to come… not tonight though… not tonight,” Rigel soothed. The cave went black once more save for the tiny glints of starlight carved into the cave ceiling.

(to be continued!)