| warning |
|cussing/swearing, minor suicidal thoughts|

          "WHAT?" was what escaped both the Dally and the man upon hearing his story.  Both could only look with widened eyes and scoff at the unreasonable spectacle that was caused earlier by the guy who decided to come unexpectedly.

          "Don't be too offended. I hadn't handled my mortgage for quite some time, and I think it's feasible for him to remind me of that responsibility." admits the confined man truthfully and guiltily. Although that may be the reason, Marshall and Jake couldn't still side with the 'supposed' justice. The aggression was unnecessary, and it was as if an additional insult to the wound. Perhaps they are subconsciously biased too.

          Left wordless, the duo could only look at each other, completely swarmed with many questions that have yet to be given an explication. Surprisingly, one of them had already resided in the fact of working on a mathematical equation rather than of something much more subjective.

          Plaintive looks were plastered upon everyone's faces, not until when the Dally's face suddenly lit up with a bright idea. He grabbed the duo's attention by expressing his spontaneous conjecture.

          "I can have a sideline by doing people household chores — as such: outdoor chores!" then another idea followed Jake and faced himself to Horatio and offered to work at some nearby pizzeria as a delivery guy, considering the snow lodge isn't in its peak season yet, and people have yet to book themselves there still.

          He was — Horatio Turbot — only left nonplussed with their propositions.

          "Before you can say no, please see this as a gift from us. You may not realize it, but you've done so much to us to give us a better life, dude" with wistful eyes, Jake squeezed the man's shoulders reassuringly. Horatio managed to catch a tear in his right and could only laugh ruefully at this.

          "You.. Both of you are ridiculous. I do not deserve this kindness," though contrary to that, he flung his arms wide open once more. How could anyone deny that? Once more, they were hugging each other again. Three pieces, both broken are now whole with substitutional fits; imperfect as it may be, it sure did patch up the void that all had.

»»——⍟——««

          Heavily had the lids attempted to make its wake, and every move was an invisible whiplash to his already trounced vessel for his soul. To his surprise, he was alive and well in his den, unfortunately.

          Jolting to look around, his back stung of pain and had collapsed immediately, paralyzing him in place as he helplessly tried to make his escape from this place.

          Previous events of who knows how many days it has been crossed his mind like a raging flash flood. They were in a heated argument, then came the great humiliation, and he fell into his demise. Supposed. He was baffled by how he even managed to survive that impact, considering the blow Valter delivered him.

          "Ah.. F*ck." He grumbles as he threw his head back in defeat, heaving aggressively despondent.

          A glint of silver had caught the corner of his eyes. Dangerously it winked at him and promised him a worth trade. He holds her close, and she fulfills his tranquil wish. With all his energy left, he crawled his way to that.

          So near, yet so far from his reach. Endeavoring to grasp the item, he pushed the limits and broke past his boundaries, and stretch his limbs as close to them snapping loose into pieces. The tip of his paw had now touched the guache item; it consisted of micro stalagmites rising from its bed, giving off an asphalt pavement-like texture.

          When he was about to fully grasp it, the shard was tossed mercilessly to the side and out -- never to be seen again, but perhaps be pricked. His eyes deliberately glared at the doer and clearly were not pleased with that kindness.

          Like a zombie that's revived from its slumber, he inefficiently maneuvered his body to face whoever that was.

          "What the h*ll's your problem," Gruffed Eirwen as he looked unforgivingly to "Ritter?"

          Ritter, a fellow fox who apparently toed the conceivable munition away from him, could only look at him with disappointment in his eyes. He hadn't said a single thing and rather, carefully rearranged Eirwen to a much better position. The other fox began to tend his wounds by replacing the leaf that's wrapped around his body.

          Eirwen could only look at him. A lot of questions swarmed his already troubled mind, and the sudden act of kindness from one of his team had dumfounded him. During his years of being this pack's potentate, not one of them respected him nor cared for him. They only 'follow' him so they could have their daily share of the promised meal.

          In this tundric weather, surviving alone is quite a dig for wheat in a desert. Trying to acquire dinner by oneself is nearly impossible, as a day of hunting may present you 0.1% chance of actually capturing something to devour as the prey has an abundant advantage to them most of the time, and that is the thick field of snow and occasional blizzard fogs.

          Being in a pack is a must, but the demand for meal is higher and must be shared, and that is often the issue among groups of foxes.

          "Don't listen to them. I think you're an amazing leader," Ritters tells him with a hopeful smile, as he began unwrapping the injured fox's old and used bandage.

          He remained skeptical though; he didn't breathe a single air out of him and treated his 'caretaker' as a mere suffocating atmosphere. The dagger glares remained to make a bullet through Ritter, but he seemed unfazed by this and had only persisted in his operation.

          A cool sensation suddenly came in contact with him as he winced in pain and groaned at this and faced away from Ritter, who clearly wasn't pleased with this.

          "It's just aloe vera." He tells him, like showing a child that monsters are just products of our fears, imagination and plainly paranoia. "Me and the others had to acquire this just to heal you."

          "By him and others, he means all himself. We were left here to scavenge a meal for our leader," another voice came and it was a female. She tossed a raw fish forward as it slid with its slimy scales. Her expression was nothing but soft and understanding, despite her fur being wrapped in frigid scales and rattling at the temperature that she felt.

          The female fox received a glare from the other male fox, but she simply shrugged and left the room on a good note "Get well soon, Eirwen."

          Facing back to the one she wished for fast recovery, he began to apply the aloe vera onto his injured forehead. Along the way through, the patient couldn't help but produce sounds of agony. It wasn't exactly painful, but because it gave off a menthol sensation that stung closely to dry ice.

          "Is it over yet?" He complains, to which the nurse nodded and concealed his forehead with a new set of organic bandages. After that, he set the equipment aside and sat beside him.

          Eirwen was truly expecting that he'd leave after that and assumed he had ulterior motives for keeping him alive so he's still able to provide him and the pack a meal. But now, he's just plainly baffled with now distorted answers he've answered himself.

          He took a glimpse of him, making sure he showed no interest in knowing more about him. The tod beside him had similar fur to him and is neatly arranged than his. He too had somewhat an icy eye color to him, but it was much calmer than his enraged ash irises. Ritter has sprightly blue eyes against the dim den they sat in and seemed full of positivity despite the hurdles that's been thrown at him.

          "I admire your persistence in running the pack. But I don't understand why linger longer regardless of the negations brought upon the members here."

          "..You have no right to say such a thing if you haven't gone through it yourself." Eirwen snaps back, although, had assumed too fast as the look on the fox had all the answers that prove his conclusions wrong.

          "That's what everyone usually perceives me as. It's the reason why I'm the jester of this pack. But of course, we all go through hardships. I, for once, thought that staying would be good. I.. Thought I could make things work, but I've realized I was the only one keeping the relationship afloat."

          This caught Eirwen's attention as his ears perked up in curiosity and asked what happened next.

          "He eventually left." He said with yet another smile. But through that sugarcoated universal emotion, it was nothing but pure lies and a cover-up. This sent the white fox to hush himself from uttering more offensive words that may potentially damage the tod that's beside himself. It was no use in arguing with him as he showed nothing but kindness towards him and had willingly poured his attention into his open wounds.

          Silence followed them after that as not one of them had anything to say. Eirwen weighed whether he was someone he could trust his background to; in the end, he gave in and told so. As he repositioned himself into a less stiff state, he took a deep breath and took a bit of hesitation before his lips actually parted to officially say something.

          "My family wanted to change the ways of how foxes hunt. Everyone travels and survives in solitary, and that would only change during mating season, and separate yet again." He looked to the side if Ritter was paying any attention, to his surprise, those same icy yet warm homely eyes were lending their ears to him.

          Flustered, he looked away as he attempted to pick up where they'd left. Eirwen began to make points about why his father thought it was a good idea to reunite as he shared his experiences of how difficult it was getting if his father continued to live by instinct. It was as if their only purpose was to populate, and if unlucky, be murdered by humans out of fear, fun, or commercially.

          He came to the point and mentioned that his father realized how the wolves work. Working so synchronously with effort and teamwork, that they got the job done within a day and managed to actually acquire a much decent amount for their pack to feast on.

          "I guess that's how the world goes," in dismay had Ritter sighed after hearing all this "Everyone grows and follows what they were first introduced with and thinks anything more or less from that is a sin." the fox then flung his head back and rested it against the cool and rough rampart that barely even is.

          Eirwen contemplated on this for a long while and looked onto the cave ceilings that hung dangerously with all its imperfections. It was nowhere near to being as reflective as mirrors, not even a diffuse one. Yet somehow, he sees an enactment of stalactite brick walls towering and caving him into one corner as Everest attempts to reach his paws. But he could only shudder and flee away to protect her from the beast that endears her greatly.

          If only he was a cursed beast that needed a true love's kiss to turn back time, then he could cradle her in his arms free of guilt. Unfortunately, he is cursed with such responsibility and title to uphold, but he for one, knows miracles are just something everyone convinces themselves to be true. If miracle truly was to prove of its existence, wouldn't have she seen him already and lent her hand?

          "You know what," he says, as his eyes shifted to look at Ritter who seemed to be lost in his own contemplation too "I'm going to need a pen, paper, and a stamp."

          Clearly baffled, Ritter could only ask why to this. He responded, "If you think that past those barriers are nothing but mere augurs that we aren't certain to, then I'd like to see it myself and fix something."

»»——⍟——««

          Many suns and moons have set, many stars have flickered luminously and extinguished themselves throughout the cycle, no matter how many times he've seen it, at the end of the day, he'll always conclude and desire the comfort of his home.

          Back from the dreaded visit, Marshall came home with a light chest. Heck, even hummed a catchy tune that went "..cut through the clouds" with a smile. Something he hasn't done for quite some timeboth the time and the past — hand in hand — decided to play a mature game of tag with him, and unfairly was he the only one panting.

          As he parked his vehicle that is able to convert into his home next to Rubble's, he noticed that the place was deserted. Nothing littered the area and was understandable as the casanova of a star had decided to tuck itself already. It rang so ever loud in his head as he immediately made a dash forth inside the lookout. But before he could, he recalled a figure crouched into one of the trees. At first, assumed it was nothing but mere bushes, though as he lingers his attention more, something about it is off.

           Scanning his irises, he began walking to wherever his subconscious lead him. It was a feeling of something so uncertain yet explicitly there. He was neither lost nor there and was more of a tug forth somewhere, and his irrational side got the best of two worlds.

          Realizing the faint mutters, he went forth a bush and parted the leafy walls, creating soft rustles as the greenery rubbed against each other. To his discovery, he saw nothing but the usual thing to expect behind — a big patch of grass sprawling furthermore, and a ledge that faced out onto the horizon.

          A scoff was the only thing that managed to escape himself, it was more of a way to ridicule himself and to lighten the load. "I'm going insane, aren't I?" he told himself and brushed the thought off, and officially walked back into the building.

          Entering quietly into the busy establishment-home, everyone seems to be surprisingly energetic even after that long and nauseating trip. Rubble was seen playing a tug of war with Zuma on one of the ropes they found, Everest was cheering for them, Rocky and Skye were conversing with each other as the male continued to busy himself by scribbling on his notebook.

          The ones who were not part of the narrative were Chase and Ryder — they were nowhere to be seen anywhere. Had he thought of finding them? Yes, and something in his mind itched of something real foul than of what Turbot would usually consume. But he was exhausted and wished nothing but to eat and sleep for the rest of the night.

          Now in bed after thirty minutes of preparing himself, he is now in his transformable home, waiting until the organic sounds lull him to bed. As that may seem, his mind still ran relentlessly despite knowing full well he wanted to shut these lids close.

           The thought of not doing anything for his friends and colleagues itched him like a parasite and kept him awake like a drug with many visions that are yet to be fulfilled. It fully bothered him and truly took its sweet time tormenting him.

          As he accepted his unfortunate fate, he began to wander and dig deeper into these thoughts more. The world began to cave in as he further situated himself more rooted into the woods, and these silhouettes that surround him were not trees, nor it was monsters as well, but rather, a tidal wave not his, but something he only could ride on.

          It completely baffled him. Why was he situated somewhere he isn't part of? But as the wave naturally came crashing down, a trickle of water gave him an equal blow like of those actual waves crashing down onto him. That's when it dawned upon him.

          "Huh?" unconsciously and instinctively did he utter these words. Rising upon his paws, he scanned his surroundings to search. Every door was shut but his', and too, was Everest's new vehicle closed too. But the sound he is foraging for won't allow him to slumber in peace. A tinge of himself thought that this might help him have his closure from unnecessary over-thinking.

          Following the faint sounds, he found himself in front of the Cockapoo's house. Inching closer, he knelt in front of her door and listened closely — delicately placing his ear on the surface. Behind that, he could clearly picture her forepaws covering her damp eyes as her chest rose and fell raggedly as she attempts to wrench out all the bitter emotions she've managed to collect herself for who knows how long.

          Luckily, he needn't to ask the one who was behind it, the one closer to her had arrived.

          "Chase!" The dally sighed out of relief, whisper-yelling his name amidst this chilly night. The German Shepherd that's being called, simply stood there baffled with lost eyes and with a mouth left agape.

          Walking towards him, he explained of where he was gone and reported of his inamorata's laments. Though what baffled Marshall was the look of pain and confusion simultaneously appearing on his face as if a large wave came crashing down on him.

          His friend's lips began to quiver and came his chest to brew of a storm within; instanly Marshall regretted telling this to him and perhaps should of kept his mouth shut and should let the couple handle this themselves.

          Stuttering a quick apology, Chase could only silently walk through him, enter his kennel, and shut the door. A gust of wind brushed him effortlessly and shivered his spine to remind him of his earlier and raw actions.

          Despite that, he couldn't help but feel offended by the fact Chase gave no context of their situation and instead, began to revert his old ways again. "Damn it. He's doing it again," he gruffs, threading his paws on his scalp with obvious frustration "I've told him numerous times it isn't—"

          And that's when it hit him. He saw himself in Chase's shoes and himself as Everest. To how he used to push her away when she's clearly trying to be friendly and help a fellow in need, but selfishly, had he only thought of himself and continuously hurt her with his rash decisions.

          He could only scoff at this once more "You're really f*cking hilarious Marshall, huh?" and with that, he half-heartedly returned to his bed, hoping that somewhat sates the itching in his thoughts and allow him to sleep.

          He barely had gotten any sleep.