A friends story Enjoy

[Ben]

Chapter 1
The young dog lay in the shade of the old oak tree he was tied to, stretched out in the cool grass. The past days had been unbearably hot, but fortunately the temperature had dropped down a bit that day. He snoozed contently, his snoring mingling with the buzzing of cicadas.
"Hey, Harley ol' boy," came a gruff voice. The dog raised his head, awake, and wagged his tail at his owner, a scruffy old man named Amos Slade.
"Someone's comin' by pretty soon to take a look at ya. One of his huntin' dogs died and he needs a replacement. All your siblings have found homes, and now it looks like it's your turn." Amos smiled, his huge grayish-brown mustache lifting upwards.
The dog, Harley, let out a happy bark and licked Amos's hand. He couldn't understand exactly what his master was saying, but he liked it when his master talked to him in a warm voice. It often meant something fun or exciting was going to happen, and this time it seemed like it was going to involve hunting. Being just under a year old, although fully-grown, Harley hadn't had too much experience hunting, but he'd accompanied Amos and his mother and father out on a few rabbit hunts. He was a slender but muscular hound mix, his mother a purebred black and tan coonhound, and his father a bloodhound mix. Both were skilled hunters still in their prime, and Harley couldn't wait to become a full-time hunter himself and impress Amos.
Of course, any day now a new master could come and claim Harley. Within the past month, other hunters had come and taken away his four siblings. Harley wasn't surprised that he was the last one left—he'd been the runt of the litter, and the other puppies had been much stronger, swifter, and had better senses of smell. But recently he'd begun to show some potential. Just the other day, Amos had Harley track down a badger that had been sneaking into his chicken coop and killing hens in the dead of night. Harley had managed to find the pesky animal, chase it down, and kill it. Amos had praised Harley like never before, and the hound had been very proud of himself.
Amos untied the rope from Harley's collar that bound him to the tree, letting him stretch his legs for a bit. Harley bounded over to his parents' kennels, which were overturned barrels lined with straw.
"Hey Mom! Dad! Guess what! I think the master's going to take me hunting today!" Harley barked.
His parents, who had also been napping, looked sleepily up at him.
"That's great. Not that I’m surprised, but you are finally starting to show some talent," said his mother with a smile. She stepped out of her kennel and stretched, her black and tan coat shining in the sunlight. Her name was Belle, and she was a prize-winning show and hunting dog. Amos had gotten her through a game of drunk gambling with her old master at the country fair, needing a replacement for his old dog Chief, who had passed away due to his age the year before, and a mate for his younger dog, Copper. Belle's owner hadn't wanted her to breed with a mutt, but a few pints of beer had made him less adamant about that, and Amos won her.
Copper also looked up and smiled at his son. He was a big dog, with the wrinkled face and deep chest of a bloodhound, but his coloring indicated he wasn't purebred. He was golden brown, with a dark brown patch on his back and ears, and white paws, muzzle, and underside. Harley looked almost exactly like him, only his ears were lighter and he had a black patch on his back.
"Hmm, I wonder who that is," said Copper, suddenly turning his head. Harley looked to see a truck pulling up next to the house. It was dull green with patches of rust, and the engine stuttered as it stopped. Tied down to the flatbed was a large dog kennel. A short, skinny man got out, wearing nothing but a white shirt and overalls. He had a long, scraggly red beard, and by the way he walked, he looked like he'd had a few beers on the way over.
"I wonder if that's someone coming to claim you." Copper turned to Harley.
Belle wrinkled her nose with disgust. "He better not be. I can smell the alcohol on him from here. I don't want some wasted idiot training my son." Belle was a very proud dog, and wanted nothing but the best for her and her family.
Amos went lumbering past the dogs, but stooped to untie Copper and Belle from their kennels. "You two can have some time to say goodbye while I talk to Travis," he said, then made his way towards the other man.
Harley suddenly felt nervous. He looked to his parents and said, "Mom, Dad, what if this man is going to take me away? I…I've never been away from you…"
"All dogs have to eventually leave their parents," said Copper gently, touching his nose to his sons'. "Be thankful you got to spend a whole year with us—I was so young when I was taken away from my mother that I don't remember her."
"But I'll miss you," Harley whined.
"We'll miss you too." Belle licked his ear. "But you're a hound, and you've got hunting to do. And I know you'll make your new master proud."
"Just think of all the critters you'll get to chase," Copper pointed out.
Harley wagged his tail. "You're right. Maybe I'll get to hunt raccoons! Or a fox! I've heard they're really fast and hard to catch, and a little dangerous too," he said with a smile.
"You might," said Copper. "You probably won't get to chase one if you stay here."
"Huh?" Harley tilted his head in confusion. “What do you mean?”
"Eh, well…" Copper seemed hesitant all of a sudden. "The master's getting quite old, and he can't hunt as well as he used to. Like you said, foxes are very quick, so he goes after easier game, like badgers and rabbits."
But Harley could tell Copper wasn't telling him everything. Sensing the young hound's curiosity, Copper turned to Belle and said, "Do you mind if Harley and I have a man-to-man talk for a moment? I want to tell him a little something before he goes off."
Belle opened her mouth, as if to protest, but Copper raised his eyebrows at her, and she looked at the ground and said, "I guess not. I need to stretch my legs anyways." With that, she got up and wandered towards the hill at the edge of the property.
Copper turned to Harley and said, "I didn't want your mother to hear this because…well, I haven't told anyone what I'm about to tell you."
Harley's ears perked up. "Huh? Why not?"
"Well…despite being old, there's another reason why Amos doesn't hunt foxes anymore," said Copper quietly. "I wasn't going to tell anyone, but I think you'd understand this better than your mother."
Harley was now deeply intrigued. "Come on, tell me!"
Copper looked in the direction Belle had gone, towards the hill. "You see that hill over there? It leads to a clearing where I met my first friend, when I was just a little puppy."
"Your first friend?" Harley cocked his head.
"Yes. His name was Tod, and he was a young fox, about my age at the time."
Harley gasped. "A…a fox? But Dad, we hunt foxes."
"Yes, I know." said Copper slowly. "But let me continue. Tod lost his mother to a hunter when he was just a newborn. You know the old lady who lives nearby, Widow Tweed? She found Tod and took him in, and raised him as her pet. We met up one day and started playing. He was actually pretty fun to play with, even though he was a lot faster and smarter than me." Copper gave a small chuckle.
"Anyways, we were too young to know we were supposed to be enemies. We were playmates for a long time. I'd sneak away from Amos almost every day to go play with Tod. But then hunting season came, and Amos took me and his old dog Chief away on a hunting trip. We were gone for several months. During that time, I learned how to hunt. We killed a lot of animals during that trip—rabbits, badgers, raccoons…and a few foxes."
"Didn't that bother you?" Harley asked.
Copper sighed. "Yes, at first, I was shocked that we were hunting foxes at first. But…they weren't like Tod. Tod was raised by a human instead of in the harsh wilderness, and that made him gentle and kind. But these were nasty, vicious foxes, the kind that prey on farmers' chickens and mock you as they run away from you. They'll even lead dogs into traps sometimes. One of them led me across a frozen lake, knowing the thin ice would break under my weight. I almost drowned, and Amos had to pull me out."
"Well, anyways, after that, I willingly killed foxes on Amos's command. But I still remembered Tod, and the fun times we'd had together. The first night we got back home, he snuck over to visit me. But I knew our friendship couldn't last, since I was now a hunting dog, and I told him he had to leave. But then Chief woke up, and he barked and woke up Amos. He set us after Tod. Thanks to my sense of smell, I knew exactly where Tod was, and led Amos away from him. But Chief found him, and chased him down that old railroad bridge behind the hills. A train came, and…" Copper took a deep breath, as if remembering this part was painful for him. "Tod was small enough to duck under it, but Chief…he had to jump. He landed on the rocks below and was pretty badly injured. He was so old, I'm surprised he survived. But it was still horrible…Chief was like a father to me. Amos had to carry him back to the house, and we thought we were going to lose him. Then…I did something that I regret, to this day. I swore vengeance on Tod."
Copper was quiet for a few moments, until Harley said, "And then?"
"I was shocked and hurt that my childhood friend would lead Chief into a trap like that, and I told myself the whole thing was my fault for trusting a fox. Later I learned that Tod hadn't meant to get Chief hurt, but I was blinded by rage and wanted nothing but revenge. Widow Tweed tried to protect Tod by taking him to live in a nature preserve, where hunting isn't allowed, but that didn't stop Amos and I. We snuck in and found Tod deep in the woods, with a female fox. We chased them both for a long while, until the noise we created disturbed a bear."
"A bear?!" Harley gasped. He had never seen a bear, but had heard stories of them—massive, vicious creatures who could kill a dog with a single swipe of its paw.
"Yes, a bear. It went after Amos first, and he stumbled backwards onto one of his own bear traps, and naturally I fought to protect him. That thing beat me to a pulp. I was on the ground, out of breath, and the bear was about to deliver a killing blow. But then…out of nowhere came Tod, who had been hiding with his mate. He could have easily made it to the safety of the opposite side of the river, but he came back… for me. He attacked the bear and led it away from me, across a log that stretched over a waterfall. The log broke under the bear's weight, and they both went tumbling into the river below. I guess the bear drowned, but Tod was just barely able to swim to the shore. He was too exhausted to move, so Amos tried to shoot him before he got away again, but I wouldn't let him. I stood in between Tod and the barrel of Amos’ gun, because Tod saved my life and I owed it to him to save his. Amos gave up, and we went our separate ways."
Harley stared at his father, too amazed by the story to know what to say. Finally he asked, "Did you ever see Tod again?"
Copper shook his head. "No, I didn't. I suppose he moved on just like I did. I went back to being a hunting dog, and I guess he settled down with his mate. But I'll never forget him. I'm still grateful to him, for saving my life even though I tried to kill him. And since then…Amos changed. He used to get a special kind of pleasure from hunting foxes, but I guess he's grateful to Tod as well, because we haven't hunted a fox since that day. I…I didn't want to tell your mother. She takes pride in her hunting skills, and I don't know how she'd react if I told her I was once friends with a fox. But you understand, don't you, why I couldn't kill Tod?"
"Of course," said Harley. "If it hadn't been for him, you'd be dead, and I wouldn't have ever been born, right?"
Copper smiled. "No, you wouldn't have."
"But Dad…" Harley stared into his father's eyes. "What should I do if my new master wants me to hunt foxes? Do I do it, or…"
"Harley, son, foxes and hounds were never meant to be friends." Copper sighed heavily. "They are our prey, and if our masters tell us to hunt them, it's our duty to do so. It might have been better if Tod and I had never met, but I don't know. I just don't want to hunt another fox, because I scared myself while hunting Tod. I was a raging killing machine, out for blood. That’s not who I am. I don't ever want to let that sort of darkness creep into my heart again."
Copper stepped closer, and murmured in his son's ear, "But Harley, I trust you to listen to your instincts. You've always had a good sense of justice. Hunt only out of respect for the prey and loyalty to your master, not out of anger or lust. You will, won't you?"
"Yes, Dad," said Harley solemnly.
At that moment, Amos and the other man made their way over to the dogs.
"Harley's a young, strong dog. He'll be good for ya, Travis," said Amos.
Travis, the man with the scraggly beard, knelt down and began examining Harley, looking him over and feeling him. He reeked of alcohol, and he had small, beady eyes that seemed to glare right into Harley's. He whimpered, not really liking this man.
"It's okay, son," Copper reassured him.
"Yes, yes he'll do," said Travis, standing back up. "I'll give ya forty bucks for this feller," he said, putting Harley back down.
Belle came trotting back as the men exchanged money.
"Well…I guess he's decided to take me," Harley sighed. He nuzzled both his parents.
"You’ll make a great hunter, Harley," whispered Belle.
"Just follow your instincts," said Copper.
Travis then looped the end of a rope around Harley’s collar, tying it rather tightly, and then gave it a sharp jerk. Harley was startled, but followed him to the truck, where he was ordered to jump up into the kennel. Travis latched the door shut, and then clambered into the front seat.
Amos waved to Harley. "Kill some varmints for me!" he called.
Copper and Belle gave barks of goodbye, and Harley let out a long bay as the truck started up and pulled away. He kept baying until his parents and Amos were out of sight. Suddenly, the truck swerved sharply, and he fell down on the floor of the kennel.
"Shut up, mutt!" Travis barked from the front. "You're my dog now, and you don't bark or howl unless I say so!"
Getting to his feet, Harley peered out of the wire door of the kennel, a feeling of unease overcoming him.
I guess this is my new life now…I hope no matter what happens, I can be as good of a hunter as Mom and Dad, he thought.

[Ben]

Chapter 2
"Daddy, I'm scared!"
Below the ground, two tiny fox kits were crouched in the rear chamber of a burrow, their fluffy fur spiked up and their eyes wide with terror. Their father was crouched beside them, panting with distress. From the main burrow, a thick, white mist was spreading. The fox coughed, wrapping his tail protectively around his two kits. The air felt acrid and unnatural, and his lungs burned.
"Daddy, I can't breathe!" one of the kits squeaked. They were both coughing now.
"It's okay, don't worry…" quickly, their father pushed them into the rear tunnel of the burrow, which served as sort of an emergency exit. “Go! Don't look back!" he called. The fox coughed again, a bit of blood dripping from his mouth onto the floor of the burrow.
“What is this stuff?” He knew the men outside the burrow were doing this—he and his mate had awoken to snuffling and whines of dogs. Hunting was supposed to be illegal where they lived, but these men either didn't know or didn’t care. The foxes hadn't had much time to react. One of them threw an object into the cave, and the mist had exploded from it. The foxes had panicked and ran around in confusion, unable to see through the thick mist. The father had managed to find two of his kits, and had taken them to the back of the burrow.
"VIXEY!" The fox screamed for his mate while coughing up more blood. Everyone had been screaming a minute ago…now there was just silence. He perked his ears forward, hoping to hear any sound from his mate or four other kits.
“I can't go find them…this fog will kill me…”  The fox had no choice but to turn around, and head into the rear tunnel. It was very narrow, for it had been hastily dug. The fox and his mate had thought they wouldn't have to use it. The kits, as small as they were, had already gone through, but the father had to claw through the earth to make his way through. The gas hadn't spread into the tunnel yet, but he was still coughing and hacking, barely able to breathe as he struggled his way to the surface. Finally, starlight struck his eyes, and he pulled himself upward and collapsed in the grass.
"Daddy! Daddy, are you okay?" His kits were at his side, pushing at him with their paws.
"Daddy's dead!" the female wailed.
"No he's not! Dad, get up!" the male cried. "Come on!"
The fox forced himself to get to his paws, swaying as he coughed more blood onto the grass.
"Daddy, look out!"
The fox turned to see a small terrier running at them, yapping with excitement. It lunged at the kits, spit flying from its jaws. In one swift movement, the fox put himself between the dog and his children, and swiped his claws across its eyes. The terrier screeched in pain, blood flying up from its face, while the father grabbed the kits in his mouth and ran, not stopping. Tears flew out of his eyes as he raced through the forest, knowing there was no use going back…his mate was dead, and so were his other kits. He'd failed his family…
"Dad, wake up!"
The fox jerked awake, leaping to his paws, his red fur bristling.
"Huh, what? What's going on!?" he cried.
"You were having another nightmare, Dad."
The fox shook his head, and blinked, seeing his now fully grown son standing in front of him.
"Oh…sorry, Cedar. I…I didn't mean to flip out on you like that," he apologized.
"Are you okay?" his son asked.
"Yeah, I'm fine…as fine as I can be." The fox flopped back down, and let out a pained sigh. For the past few nights, he'd been reliving the hell he'd gone through several months ago. Back then, everything had been perfect. He'd found the love of his life, and together they had six kits, exactly the number she'd wanted. But men had come, and gassed their burrow. The fox had been able to save two of his kits, but his mate and their four other children did not survive. A few weeks after their escape, he'd gone back to see if he could find them, but the burrow was empty and their scents were gone. The men had taken their bodies away.
“Oh, Vixey…” the fox held back tears. “I'm so sorry. I wasn't able to save you. But I saved two of our kits…if only you could see them right now. They've grown so much”.
He could almost hear her voice, warm and teasing.
You're a wonderful father, Tod. I know our kits will always love you, and I will too.
"Dad?" His son's voice brought him back to the present. "It's almost morning. Is it too early to go hunting?"
The fox, Tod, looked past his son and to the entrance of the burrow, where he could just see milky streaks of light beginning to appear in the indigo sky.
"I'd wait a while," Tod advised. "It'll be a while before all the animals wake up. Where's your sister?"
"She went to go get a drink from the stream." His son lay down and curled up next to his father so that their pelts were touching. "You've been having nightmares a lot lately. They're about that day, aren't they?"
Tod gave a tiny nod. He stared ahead.
"It wasn't your fault, Dad. I mean, I only remember bits of it, but you did all you could. You saved Clover and I."
Tod looked at his son and gave him a sad smile.
"I know, Cedar. You two are the reason I keep going. But I wish you two had more happy memories of your mother."
Cedar was almost a year old now. He'd grown into a handsome fox, appearing almost identical to Tod, except his coat was slightly darker. His personality was more like his mother's—optimistic and comforting.
Cedar touched his nose to his fathers'. "Don't worry, Dad. I know Mom is watching over us."
"Dad, Cedar! Look what I caught!" Tod and Cedar were interrupted by a third voice. They turned to the entrance of the cave, where Tod's daughter, Clover was standing. In her jaws was a large silver trout.
"Whoa! Great catch!" Cedar exclaimed.
"That will feed all three of us," said Tod, smiling proudly. Clover had her mother's light build and perky face. Sometimes Tod felt as if he was staring right at Vixey when he looked at her.
"Someday, I'm going to catch the biggest fish we've ever seen!" Cedar vowed.
Clover flicked her brother with her tail. "Says the fox who yelped when a minnow nibbled him," she teased.
"Hey, I was just startled, that's all!" Cedar protested.
"Are you okay, Dad?" Clover turned her attention to Tod. "You don't look so good."
"He had another nightmare," said Cedar.
"Again?" Clover touched her nose to Tod's ear. "Dad, what's been troubling you?"
"It's alright, Clover." Tod brushed his muzzle against his daughter's. "It's just a few bad memories of mine coming back, but I'll be alright."
Tod had never forgiven himself for not being able to save Vixey and his other kits, but he had always taken pride in the fact that he'd been able to raise Cedar and Clover on his own, though these days, it seemed like his kits had been taking care of him. They both had their mother's protectiveness in them.
“Heh. Where would I be without them?” Tod thought sheepishly. Unlike his children, he hadn't grown up in the wilderness. His mother had been shot by a hunter when he was a tiny kit, and an old widow had found him raised him. When he was a year old, she'd had to give him up due to certain circumstances, and had taken him to the game preserve where he lived now. He'd had no idea how to survive on his own, but thankfully he had run into Vixey, who took a liking to him and taught him how to fish, hunt for food, and dig burrows. Tod still wasn't the greatest at doing these things, but his children had inherited their mother's talents.
The foxes ate the trout Clover had caught, and then slept until the sun was all the way up in the sky. Cedar then said he wanted to try fishing, so all three of them went down to the stream near their den.
"Alright, be still as you can," Clover instructed her brother, who positioned himself on a rock, holding a paw ready above the water. "Try not to cast a shadow, so the fish won't know you're there. Then, as quickly as you can, scoop it out."
Cedar stood perfectly still, staring intently at the water's surface. After a few silent moments, a small fish glided by, its silvery scales glinting in the sunlight.
SPLASH! Tod and Clover jumped back to avoid the spray of water that flew up as Cedar plunged his paw into the stream. He did it rather forcefully, knocking his balance off, sending him sliding down the rock and into the water.
Clover threw back her head laughing, while Tod grinned and shook his head. Cedar scowled at them, water dripping from his soaked fur.
"I haven't had much practice, okay?" he defended himself.
Suddenly, Clover stopped laughing and flicked her ears. Something had caught her attention. Cedar and Tod followed her gaze towards a tall oak tree.
"What is it, Clover?" Cedar asked, climbing out of the stream and shaking the water out of his fur.
"There's something up there, looking at us," whispered Clover.
Tod squinted in the sunlight, and was able to make out a brown figure perched up in the branches. At first, he wasn't sure what it was, until he noticed its huge round eyes.
"Tod?" the thing spoke. "Tod, is that you?"
Tod froze. He'd know that voice anywhere. Warm, gentle, with a slight southern accent…
"Big…Big Mama!" Tod cried.
"Dad, who is that?" Cedar asked.
The thing jumped from the branches, spreading giant wings and gliding towards the ground. It was a great owl, with brown speckled feathers and bright yellow eyes.
"Oh, Tod! Thank goodness I've found you!" The owl wrapped her wings around Tod's neck in a hug.
"Big Mama…I haven't seen you in so long…" A lump formed in Tod's throat. "Where have you been?"
Big Mama pulled away and stared up at Tod. "I'm so sorry, honey," she said. "There's been crazy things happening all over the forest…so many animals have needed my help…I've been searching for you for a long time. Your old burrow was abandoned, and I was afraid something bad had happened to you…"
"Something bad did happen, Big Mama," said Tod quietly. He looked down at the ground. "Men came to the burrow. They filled it with a strange, deadly mist…I escaped with two of my kits, but Vixey and the four others...they didn't make it."
"Oh God, Tod…" Big Mama gasped her eyes wide with horror. She rested her wing on Tod's shoulder. "I'm so, so sorry. I should have been there for you…"
"It wasn't your fault," Tod murmured. "You couldn't have done anything to stop them."
"Dad, who is this?" Clover asked.
"Oh…I should introduce you," said Tod, noticing the very confused looks on Cedar and Clover's faces. "Cedar, Clover, this is Big Mama. You met her once, when you were very young, so I'm not surprised you don't remember her. She's an old friend of mine."
"So these are your kits," said Big Mama, looking up at Cedar and Clover and smiling warmly. "My, my, you two have grown so much since I last saw you."
Tod had known Big Mama since he was very small. She was a guardian to the animals of these woods and surrounding farms. She'd witnessed Tod's mother being shot, and had led the old widow to him. She'd always stayed near the farm where he lived, watching him as he grew up and giving him motherly advice. When Tod had been taken to the nature preserve, Big Mama found him and introduced him to Vixey. The last time Tod had seen her was when his kits had been born, and she'd come to see the new family. Since hunters seemed to be becoming active in this area, he was worried something bad had happened to her. But he'd been too occupied to look for her, while moving deeper into the preserve to hide from hunters while raising his kits on his own.
"Tod, I came to warn you about something," Big Mama's voice suddenly grew ominous. "There have been men all over the area these past months. I thought this place didn't allow hunting, but the rules seem to have changed. I've seen them cutting down the trees, too. It almost seems like they're trying to clear this place out."
Tod's fur rose along his spine.
"They've been setting traps for animals, too. Yesterday I saw something horrible." Big Mama shut her eyes, and sighed. "I saw a fox caught in a trap. I was about to go over to help him, but then a bunch of men came with guns and dogs, and…I couldn't do anything. They shot him." She was silent for a moment, and then said, "Do you remember what a fox trap looks like?"
Tod nodded, a dark memory suddenly coming back to him, of glinting metal teeth sticking up through the leaves of the forest floor, jumping to avoid them as they snapped shut, the firing of a hunter's rifle, and the angry baying of a hound…
"Tod?" The fox shook his head and looked at Big Mama. "Yes, I've seen them. I'll look out for them. Thank you."
"Dad?" Clover's eyes were wide with fear. "What are we going to do?"
"Big Mama, do you know of anywhere we can go?" Tod asked her.
Big Mama sighed. "I don't know," she admitted. "Honestly I haven't ever been beyond these woods, but I've heard of another forest east of here, near the mountains. From what I've been told, humans tend to avoid them, because there are more bears living there."
"Bears?" Cedar cocked his head. "Dad, didn't you fight one of those once?"
Tod shuddered. Another frightening memory came to his mind, of a massive black animal, with a horrible stench, long claws, and a deafening roar.
"Cedar…let's not talk about that right now," said Tod. He turned back to Big Mama. "Thank you for warning us. For now, we'll keep a low profile, and if the hunters come into our territory, we’ll head for the east."
"Honey, if I were you, I'd leave as soon as you can," said Big Mama solemnly, her wide yellow eyes filled with anxiety for her friend. "From the way things are going, it won't be long before you run into men."
Tod sighed. “Those hunters…” he thought. “They've already driven us out of our home, and now they're going to do it again? Why are humans so bent on killing us and the other forest animals?”
He looked to Cedar and Clover. "What do you two think?" he asked, feeling they were old enough to help him make this decision.
"I think Big Mama's right," said Cedar, sitting down and tucking his tail around his paws nervously. "We need to get out of here."
Clover nodded, her eyes wide with fear. "I don't remember much about the hunters that killed Mom and the others, except the dog that tried to attack me and Cedar. I don't want to go through that again." She shuddered.
"Then it’s settled. We'll leave early tomorrow morning," Tod decided. "That way we can travel a good distance before it gets dark. Our den is hidden well enough among some brambles, so we can probably risk one more night here."
"Alright," said Big Mama. "Meet me at this tree at dawn. I don't know exactly where the other forest is, but I can lead you in the general direction."
"Thank you so much, Big Mama." Tod affectionately nudged his old friend.
"Be careful, Tod," said Big Mama softly. She turned to Cedar and Clover. "You two as well." Then, she flapped her wings and soared away.
Tod watched her as she disappeared into the tops of the trees and then looked up to the sky. It was a bright, beautiful day, with fluffy white clouds hanging overhead. Nothing seemed ominous at all, but Tod's gut was twisting with anxiety. He sank his claws into the ground.
“Vixey, please…watch over us…” he prayed silently.

[aperson1]

I just want to say, this is an awesome story. I haven't really bothered reading any of the other stories others have made (sorry) but I figured I might as well check out one, and I started reading this one.  This story has rapid and structured plot development that bring you into the story, leaving you on the edge of your seat by the end of the first chapter. At first, I began to freak out at certain things not *ahem* related to the hunting of *ahem* a certain species of animal *hacking cough* that I happen to *wheeze* like. If you continue to write like this through the story, then I think this would be worthy of being published as an actual book. Because, truthfully, this story is amazing.

[Ben]

 
Chapter 3
As the truck came to a halt, Harley could hear the loud, harsh baying of other dogs, excited by their master's return. He heard Travis slam the door shut and then bellow, "Shut up, you mutts!" He came around and opened the cage door, then yanked on the rope around Harley's neck. The hound mix obediently jumped out of the flatbed and onto the dusty ground, and Travis led him around to the back of his house. His home was nothing but a tiny wooden shack, coated in peeling white paint. The tin roof was bent inwards, and rusty nails stuck out everywhere.
Travis was leading Harley to the gate of a chain link fence that surrounded the back of the house. The thunderous barking and howling grew louder, and Harley tucked his tail between his legs.
"Come on, mutt!" Travis jerked Harley's rope, unlatched the gate, and led him into the yard. It was a small area, about ten feet by fifteen, and choked with weeds. A wire kennel stood against the fence, and four dogs were chained to the back wall of the house. They howled and lunged at the ends of the chains, welcoming their master back.
"SHUT UP!" Travis screamed over the noise. He stepped forward and loomed over the dogs threateningly, and they fell silent. The biggest one, a massive black and brown dog, whined softly and wagged his tail.
"Hey, Bugler." Travis reached out and scratched his ears. "How's my boy today?"
Bugler, obviously Travis's favorite, licked his master's hand.
"Alright, we've got someone joinin' us today, and he’s going to take Bones’ place." Travis announced to his dogs. "This here's Harley. I know he's kind of sorry-looking, but he's the cheapest dog I could get around here. Bugler, I'll be expectin' you to show him who's boss!" He led Harley to a fifth chain hanging from the wall of the house, which he clipped to Harley's collar. Then, he stood up and disappeared inside through the back door.
Harley craned his neck to observe the other dogs. The one on his left next to him was a muscular Plott hound with a dark brindled coat. Then there was Bugler, who was even more muscular, and had a wrinkled face and huge jowls. To his right was a slim tan and white foxhound, and at the very opposite end of the wall was another tan and white dog, only much smaller. He had a skinny body and folded back, whippet-like ears. He hunkered down in the grass, seeming nervous.
"Hey! You!" came a bellowing, rough, deep voice. Harley looked back to Bugler, who was glowering right at him.
"Hey new dog! My name's Bugler, and I'm the lead dog of this pack! You better do what the master and I say, or you're in for it!"
The Plott hound and the foxhound burst into harsh laughter.
"You don't look very promising!" Bugler called to Harley. "Tell me, can you hunt at all!?"
Harley felt a growl rising in his throat, but contained himself. Bugler did not look like someone to mess with.
"I…I caught a badger once," he replied.
"That's it?" Bugler's eyes glittered with amusement, and he and his friends roared with laughter. "You've got a lot to learn, mutt! And trust me, I will make sure you become worthy to this pack, even if I have to beat it into you! Are we clear?"
"Y…yes sir, we're clear," said Harley.
"Good. Now let me introduce you to the rest of the gang." Bugler pointed his nose at the Plott hound. "This here's Hustler." He turned to the foxhound. "This is Jet, and that little wimp over there is Thistle."
Thistle looked at the ground as the others continued to laugh. Harley slumped down in the grass, suddenly wanting to go home.
The back door suddenly swung open, and Travis came out carrying a bag of dog food. Harley noticed that he and the other dogs had a metal bowl within reach of them. Travis walked along the line of dogs, tossing a handful of kernels into each bowl. The others began to wolf the food down while Harley cautiously sniffed it. It smelled greasy and stale.
"Stop that whinin'!" Harley turned to see Travis glaring at Thistle. "You don't get any food ‘cause you didn't catch that rabbit I set you after yesterday. If you want to eat, work harder!"
Thistle miserably lay down with his chin on his paws as Travis went back inside.
"Don't you be feeling sorry for him," Bugler growled at Harley. "Here, you have to earn your food. Ain't that right, small fry?"
Harley assumed Bugler was talking to Thistle, but the little dog didn't reply. Jet, the foxhound, cuffed the side of his head with a paw. "Answer him!" he barked. Thistle yelped. "Y—yes sir," he stammered.
Harley turned back to his food and reluctantly ate. He felt guilty for eating when Thistle had no food, and the food had the consistency and flavor of sawdust, but it seemed he'd have to keep his strength up in a place like this. Dusk had fast approached, and the sky was a blazing red with streaks of gold. Bugler licked crumbs of dog food off his jowls.
"Blood red sky tonight…I'd say that's a sign we're gonna have some good kills tomorrow." He grinned, baring huge yellow fangs.
"We're going hunting tomorrow?" Harley asked as politely as he could.
"That's right, mutt," Bugler growled "We're gettin' up bright and early to go kill us some varmints. Then you'll see that we're the best hunting pack around. We brought down a bear once. Try not to piss yourself if you see one!" He, Hustler, and Jet all burst out laughing again.
Harley lay down and curled up into a miserable ball. How could Amos have sold him to a man like Travis? He thought the master had liked him.
“Mom, Dad…I miss you.” Images of Copper and Belle's smiling, proud faces came into mind, and he ached to be with them.
“You two wouldn't put up with being treated like this, would you? But I'm not like you…these dogs will beat me to a pulp if I try to stand up for myself.”
Sighing, he closed his eyes and entered a shallow, disturbed sleep.

[saph the sergal]

I just want to say, this is an awesome story. I haven't really bothered reading any of the other stories others have made (sorry) but I figured I might as well check out one, and I started reading this one.  This story has rapid and structured plot development that bring you into the story, leaving you on the edge of your seat by the end of the first chapter. At first, I began to freak out at certain things not *ahem* related to the hunting of *ahem* a certain species of animal *hacking cough* that I happen to *wheeze* like. If you continue to write like this through the story, then I think this would be worthy of being published as an actual book. Because, truthfully, this story is amazing.

y u make dragon sad


ben great by what i have read so far

[aperson1]

I just want to say, this is an awesome story. I haven't really bothered reading any of the other stories others have made (sorry) but I figured I might as well check out one, and I started reading this one.  This story has rapid and structured plot development that bring you into the story, leaving you on the edge of your seat by the end of the first chapter. At first, I began to freak out at certain things not *ahem* related to the hunting of *ahem* a certain species of animal *hacking cough* that I happen to *wheeze* like. If you continue to write like this through the story, then I think this would be worthy of being published as an actual book. Because, truthfully, this story is amazing.

y u make dragon sad


ben great by what i have read so far

what do you mean?

[Ben]

It's not supposed to be happy

[aperson1]

It's not supposed to be happy

I never said it was happy, I said it was good. I might even venture to say that it's the best story I've ever read.

[saph the sergal]

what do you mean?



i have a book anypost i make its in my sig

[aperson1]

what do you mean?



i have a book anypost i make its in my sig

Well I'm not much one for reading. When you're at a library, there are thousands of books to read through, but you only ever read through a few of them. The same sort of thing applies here for me.

[Ben]

Chapter 4
"Wake up!" Harley woke to the smell of horrible breath and a large paw smacking him in the face. He looked up and saw Bugler glaring down at him.
"It's time to get going, mutt. Move—the master don’t like to be kept waiting."
Harley turned his head to see Travis kneeling down by Jet and undoing his chain. He then reached over and undid Hustler's. Harley obediently followed everyone into the front yard, where he saw that a large metal contraption had been attached to the back of Travis's truck. It was a huge dog kennel on wheels. As Harley approached it, he saw that the inside was divided up into several compartments.
"Alright! Get in!" Travis barked. Each dog jumped into a compartment, and Harley followed suit. Travis went around shutting the doors to each one, and when he shut Harley's, his heart began to pound. The compartment was very narrow, with only space to lie down, and pitch black, save for weak morning light coming through a few slats on the side.
"Don't panic," came a soft voice from the next compartment over. "We won't have to stay in here for long. I was scared the first time too, but it isn't so bad."
"Which one are you?" Harley murmured.
"Thistle," the voice replied. "Listen, um…try not to disappoint Bugler, or the master…if you do they'll starve you and beat you…you're a replacement for Travis's old coonhound, Bones. Travis hit the poor fragile thing too hard and accidentally killed him…"
"Are you serious?" Harley whispered, his fur rising along his spine.
"Yeah. And you know that dog kennel in the yard? You don't want to know what it's used for. Just try not to get put in it…" Thistle's voice shook, as if remembering a frightening memory.
Harley nodded, though Thistle couldn't see him. He asked a few more question, to try and make conversation and calm himself down.
"What breed are you?" he asked.
"I'm a whippet/beagle mix," Thistle replied shyly. "Um…you?"
"I'm a mix too," said Harley. "My mom was a black and tan coonhound and my dad was a bloodhound mix...mixed with what I don't know." He chuckled slightly.
"Bugler's also a mix…he's half bloodhound and half Rottweiler. He's very good at tracking…and killing." Thistle gulped.
"I can imagine," said Harley quietly.
The drive lasted about forty-five minutes. The truck bounced along the dirt roads, shaking the kennel and causing Harley to hit his head on the roof a few times. He pressed his nose to the slats leading to the outside, breathing in scents of pine and morning dew. Now and then, he could detect traces of rabbit and squirrel. Though very nervous, Harley couldn't help but wonder what sort of prey Travis would have them hunt.
Finally, the truck stopped. The excited barks of Bugler, Hustler, and Jet shook the walls of the kennel as Travis went around and let each dog out. Harley blinked in the sudden sunlight as his door was opened.
"Come on, mutt, get out!" Travis pulled on Harley's collar, making him jump out. The hound mix stumbled around, feeling dizzy from the ride. He shook his head and then surveyed his surroundings. They were in the middle of a field, right at the edge of a forest. The trees were close together, and further in it seemed quite dark. It was probably pretty easy to get lost in there…
"Don't you even think of runnin' off while we're huntin'!" Harley jumped as he felt hot breath in his ear, and turned to see Bugler growling in his face.
"I know you don't wanna be a part of this pack, coward. If you run off, I will bring you back and I will beat you lifeless. Got it?"
Harley winced at the pack leader's threat, but nodded. "I got it, sir."
"Good." He gave Harley once last glare, and then turned around to face Travis, who was getting something out of the truck.
"Alright dogs, have a good sniff at this!" he held out a silvery pelt, with a striped tail dangling from it.
"We're huntin' coons today! Their pelts sell real good this time of year!"
The dogs gathered around and thoroughly sniffed the pelt. Harley had been on enough hunts to know that raccoons were sneaky creatures, which climbed trees to escape dogs and picked good hiding places. But if a dog could track it down, a human could usually bring it down with a rifle.
"Alright! Move out!" Travis barked. The dogs ran straight into the woods, with Bugler at the lead, Hustler and Jet at his flanks, and Thistle and Harley at the back. Travis jogged after them, rifle in hand.
"Start sniffin', boys!" Bugler ordered. The dogs put their faces to the ground, their noses pumping as they worked to pick up the scent of raccoon. About ten minutes later, they came to a clearing, where the morning sun shone down and the grass sparkled with dew. Bugler suddenly lifted his head and let out a deafening bay, then veered onto a path leading deeper into the forest. As they ran, Harley could suddenly smell the reek of raccoon in the air, and howled as well. Suddenly, a flash of silver flashed in front of the pack, zigzagging along the path and then darting up a tree. Bugler leapt up, his jaws snapping just an inch from the ringed tail of the raccoon, which scurried up to the topmost branches and peered down, its little masked face petrified in terror as the dogs barked and put their front paws on the tree trunk.
"Whoa! Back off, back off!" Travis waved his gun around, shooing the dogs away.
"That coon ain't big enough! It won't make a decent pelt! Let's move on, boys!"
They went on through the forest, scenting the ground and the air. The sun continued to rise, and soon the summer heat was beating down on the dogs. Harley panted, hoping they'd come across a stream or a pond to drink from. Then, Jet raised his head and bayed, having picked up the scent of another raccoon. The dogs ran forward, barking and whining. Even Harley felt himself caught up in the excitement. It wasn't long before not one, but two huge raccoons came into sight, running for their lives. Hustler's teeth snapped inches from one of their tails, but they darted to the side and then scrambled up an oak tree. One of them disappeared into a knothole halfway up the tree, while the other one clung to the bark and spun around, snarling down at the dogs. Bugler let out a loud, ugly laugh. "Aww, ain't that cute, it's trying to defend itself!"
"Get back!" Travis whistled sharply.
"That means get back!" Bugler barked at Harley. The pack stepped away about five feet away from the tree, while Travis cocked his rifle. The raccoon, seeming to realize what was happening, turned to climb further up the tree, but didn't react fast enough.
BANG! The sound of the rifle split the air and echoed far off into the distance, and then everything seemed to happen in slow motion. Bright red blood exploded from the raccoon's back, but it still hung on the tree with its claws. Then, slowly, it slid down the tree an inch, and then lost its grip completely and fell heavily to the ground.
"Outta the way, outta the way!" Travis shooed his dogs as they gathered around to sniff the raccoon's corpse. Travis picked it up by the tail and strapped it to his belt, then cocked his gun again, aiming at the knothole where the other raccoon had disappeared.
"Did you see, Bugler? I smelled them!" Jet jumped up and down excitedly, barking at the knothole.
"Shut up!" Bugler snapped. "We gotta be quiet, so the other one will think we've left."
They stood around the tree in silence for about five minutes, stepping backwards into the shadows of the trees. The dogs' muscles quivering with anticipation as they waited. Thistle let out a thin whine, which earned him a hard shove from Hustler.
Then, finally, the other raccoon poked its snout out from the knothole. It slowly peeked up from the edge, peering down to see if it was safe. It crept out along the bark, looking left and right.
BANG! The second raccoon fell to the ground, and Travis went to collect the body.
"Great work, boys!" he praised his dogs. Then, all of a sudden, a small, squeaky cry came from the knothole. Travis looked up to it, and suddenly, a smirk crossed his face. He set his rifle down, then rummaged through a small sack tied to his belt and produced two gloves, which he put on. He then began to climb the tree, grabbing the lower branches and hoisting himself up until he reached the knothole.
"Oh no…" Harley heard Thistle murmur under his breath.
"What's happening?" he hissed.
Before Thistle could reply, Travis pulled something out from the knothole. A tiny bundle was clasped in his gloved hand, squirming and crying in terror.
"Oh God." Harley breathed. "They had babies. Travis wouldn't…"
"He would," Thistle whispered, trembling with his tail tucked between his legs.
"Hey guys! I have something for you all to snack on!" Travis sang out. He flung the baby raccoon to the ground. It squealed in terror as it hit a tree root and bounced off. Travis reached further into the hole and pulled out three more babies, and flung them to the ground as well.
Bugler, Hustler, and Jet flew to the tree, yipping and barking hysterically as they surrounded the babies. There came terrified squeals, and then horrible ripping noises, and then blood sprayed into the air.
"NO!" Harley yelled. It was like a feeding frenzy. The dogs snarled as they tore the small bodies, shaking their heads from side to side.
"STOP IT!" Tears stung Harley's eyes as he leaped forward, trying to shove his way through the crowd. Hustler kicked him backwards, and then furiously turned around, a tiny silver raccoon dangling from his jaws, its pelt torn to bloody shreds. Its little mouth hung open, indicating it had spent its last few moments screaming.
Harley couldn't take it anymore. He was a hound, yes, and he liked to hunt, but this…this he couldn't stand. As trigger-happy as Amos had been, he had never, ever hunted baby animals…the hound mix fled into the trees, panting with terror. He leapt over a fallen log and kept running straight ahead, not looking back.
BANG! The round exploded on the ground just a foot from Harley. He skidded to a halt, and whirled around, to see Travis standing a few yards away with his gun, and Bugler snarling and charging right at Harley like a mad bull. Harley screeched as the bigger dog knocked him to the ground and clamped his gigantic jaws around his throat.
"What did I say about runnin' away?" he growled menacingly through closed jaws. His fangs clamped down so tightly on Harley that the smaller dog couldn't breathe. He scrambled his paws in the dirt and gasped for air.
"Good boy, Bugler." Travis had caught up to them. "Now let me have at him." Bugler let go of Harley, who Travis grabbed by the collar, and then slammed the toe of his boot right in the center of his spine. Harley shrieked in pain as the man kicked him several more times, and then threw him down onto the ground.
"Don't you dare try runnin' away again, mutt!" Travis hissed. He grabbed Harley's collar again and hoisted him to his feet. "Alright boys, time to head home!"
Harley followed Travis and the other dogs through the woods back to the truck, staring at the ground as he walked. He couldn't bear to look at the others after seeing what they'd done to the baby raccoons…he could still hear the helpless shrieks and see blood flying everywhere. What made it worse was the fact that Bugler, Hustler, and Jet were actually laughing about it, bragging about how they'd torn the helpless little creatures to shreds.
You aren't hunting dogs! Harley wanted to scream at them. You're monsters! But after being punished by Bugler and Travis like he had, he didn't want to risk angering the pack again. Travis whistled happily, the two adult raccoons swinging from his belt. Besides Harley, the only quiet one was Thistle, who was also looking at the ground, until he shot the hound mix one quick sympathetic glance.
The words that his father had said to him before he'd left home suddenly echoed in Harley's head:
Hunt only out of loyalty, and not out of anger or lust.
That was what these dogs were doing—hunting just for the fun of torturing and killing animals. Harley knew it was wrong, but it seemed he would have to do it to avoid being beaten by Travis or mauled by Bugler.
“Oh Dad…what do I do?”