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Sanctuary Secrets

Part Two

Chapter Seven

© Cederwyn Whitefurr

10th March, 2024

All Rights Reserved.

Patron reward story for Vincent Van Horne

Hours turned into a timeless haze within Misty's secured room. The eucalyptus-scented air, once a comforting presence, now bore witness to Misty's internal turmoil. The sanctuary, still reeling from recent events, seemed suspended in a fragile moment of uncertainty.

Misty's consciousness flickered like a candle in the wind. The sedative, administered with good intentions, continued to hold her in a tenuous grip. Her struggles against the dark forces within were a silent symphony, unheard by those outside her sanctuary. The subtle shifts in her demeanour, invisible to the casual observer, spoke volumes about the ongoing battle for her soul.

Outside, the atmosphere remained charged with a palpable tension. Liam, Jackson, and Rachel, burdened by the weight of their choices, sought a delicate balance between hope and remorse. At last, they called a meeting of the Therian Council – Dr. Owen sitting in for the incapacitated Dr. Mercer.

Stacy sniffled, her eyes clouded with fear as tears welled in the corner of her eyes. “She's turned – you saw what she did to Dr. Mercer! I can't shake the feeling she's a threat to him, our healer and protector! What risk is she to the rest of us in this sanctuary? She's not one of us! We can't allow one who turned to the darkness to live... Ever since... since she was brought into the secure holding room – I've seen what happened in Dr Mercer's cabin. The... the blood... I've heard whispers and rumours... The look in Misty's eyes, her eyes filled with a darkness I can not comprehend! Nightmares, terrible nightmares have haunted me! What if she has succumbed? Will she come after one of us? After my joey who is innocent and defenceless? We can not risk having someone like that amongst us! It's not just about protecting ourselves; it's about safeguarding the sanctuary from a danger we're not equipped to deal with...”

“Stacy!” Dr. Owen snapped sharply. “I know you're young, you're scared – we all are, but such accusations are uncalled for and unwarranted! Misty has been a part of our family for how long now? Has she ever shown any aggression or hostility towards any of us? Well?”

Stacy began to weep, her fear overcoming her. Liam placed a gentle paw on his young mate's shoulder. Gently, he wrapped her in a warm, comforting hug, holding her tight and resting his chin on top of her head.

“We don't know she's turned - “ Rachel protested. “I saw what Liam and Jackson saw! She was straddling him – they were – making love, obviously. Misty was crouched over him, holding her paw against his throat. We didn't have a great deal of time to analyse the situation! We acted impulsively – thinking she was about to do the unthinkable. Jackson grabbed her by the nape, Liam grabbed her tail and they pulled her away and then pinned her to the floor. I filled a syringe and injected her with enough tranquilliser to put her under...”

“We don't know the truth,” Dr. Owen's voice was calm but strained. “Yes, Misty and Dr Mercer were – sexually involved, but from what you, Rachel, told me – Misty had pressed her wrist against his throat - right where she'd bitten him. I examined the wound on her wrist! It's self-inflicted! What dark therian, would dare to injure itself like that and willingly do what she did? Well? Would any of you, if you were truly taken – do that? Be honest and truthful!”

The gathered Therians all looked at each other, then one by one, hung their heads in guilt and shame, knowing he spoke the truth.

“Misty was trying to save him – her bite on his throat, whilst serious, wasn't fatal! I can only imagine what one like you would be capable of – if your darker natures gained ascendancy. Even you, Jackson – you who did succumb, if only for a moment...” Dr. Owen spoke loudly and forcefully, making his point clear.

“I know...” Jackson shuddered. “The blood... the taste of it...”

“If it hadn't been for your younger sibling, you'd be dead!” Dr. Owen snapped. “It was his love for you, that stayed our hand! You were taken by your dark side – he brought you back! What makes any of you think you would have done better? You do not know what happened – when he made love with her! Was he careless? Did he hurt her, being a maiden doe – I can only surmise...”

Stacy twisted about in Liam's grasp, burying her head against his chest, as he gently hugged her and stroked her back, his tearful gaze looking at Dr. Owen.

“I'm...sorry,” Dr. Owen shuddered, as he sat down. “We're all scared, and on edge. Our beloved refuge is awash with rumours and fear! None of this is beneficial for your kind, we need to know the truth – not succumb to gossip, rumour and false conclusions!”

As Dr Owen finished his impassioned defence of Misty, the council members, still burdened by guilt and shame, looked at each other once more. The weight of uncertainty lingered in the air, each therian grappling with his or her fears and suspicions.

Just as a tentative calm began to settle over the room, a frantic hammering on the door shattered the fragile atmosphere. Dr. Owen, propelled by urgency, leapt from his chair and swung the door open. A tearful, frightened young therian stood on the threshold, her white face and panting breath revealing the urgency of her message.

“Dr... need...” she stammered, her words barely legible.

“Woah, easy young one – what do you need?” Dr. Owen asked, attempting to calm her trembling down.

The urgency injected a fresh wave of tension into the room, and the gathered Therians, now on high alert, bounded out of the room, leaving Dr. Owen bewildered and grappling with the rapidly unfolding events as he ran after them.

*

As Dr. Owen approached the operating room, Jackson blocked him and shook his head.

“No, you don't want to go in there, please Doctor, it is for your well-being...” Jackson spoke quietly, his body language nervous and yet defensive.

“Jackson, my colleague, my friend is in there, step aside...” Dr. Owen growled at him.

Jackson stood resolute before he shuddered and dropped to all fours, as he crawled to the side and gestured with one paw.

*

In the dimly lit operating theatre, the others had gathered, staring down at the bed and blocking Dr. Owen's view. Their quiet guttural grunts and clucks meant nothing to him before Rachel's ears slashed backwards and she turned her head to look over her shoulder, her mouth falling open at his unexpected appearance.

“Dr. Owen - “ Rachel stammered.

He restrained himself, as he moved to where he could see his colleague, then his face went white and he stared open-mouthed, his words stolen from him along with his breath...

It was subtle, as Dr Mercer, bound by the throat, wrists and ankles, began to transform from human into – something that was neither human nor animal... He shuddered, as his unconscious human body trembled. His limbs shortened and transformed into powerful fore paws, his fingers evolving into the structure and shape of a kangaroo's paw.

A luxurious tapestry of russet and mahogany fur burst forth over his body, sheathing him. Distinct markings adorned his face – as facial bones seemed to melt and reshape into the distinctive muzzle of a red kangaroo – replete with large, expressive ears.

His tail grew and lengthened, the tip hanging off the end of the bed, pale and covered in a sand-coloured fur. His thighs altered, the ankles reshaping and his human-like feet growing long and slender – the sharp, powerful talons emerging from the tips of his three toes.

With a deep, convulsive gurgle, Dr Mercer's fur-clad chest drew a deep breath and Rachel gripped his muzzle between her paws, stifling the agonising cries as best she could.

“Breathe, brother,” Rachel's voice was quiet and soothing. “I know it hurts. Breathe; it's alright.”

Dr. Owen stared in disbelief, almost rendered speechless by what he had witnessed. His mind grappled with the truth his eyes had seen, yet his human consciousness struggled to comprehend. “He's a...”

Dr Mercer cried out in agony, his back arching off the operating table, the final, agonising transition ravaging him before he collapsed onto the bed. His body was slick with sweat, trembling helplessly.

“Careful,” Rachel whispered nervously. “He's going to be extremely hypersensitive to touch and sound. Our first transition is always the worst for us.”

Shuddering, Dr. Owen double-gloved himself. With utmost care, he gently pulled the transformed kangaroo's eyelids up, feeling Dr. Mercer flinch before releasing him.

“Are they...” came Liam's nervous whimper. “Is he alright?”

“His eyes are brown,” Dr. Owen sighed in relief. “he's passed his trials – he's one of you now. I knew he had the strength of will and courage to pull through...”

*

Dr. Owen's trembling hands reached for the door, his heart pounding with a mix of anxiety and anticipation. As he stepped out of the operating theatre, the dimly lit corridor seemed to stretch into infinity before him. The echoes of his footsteps reverberated in the hushed atmosphere, overshadowed by the weight of the recent revelation about Dr Mercer's therian transformation.

The air held tension, mirroring the emotional turmoil that gripped the sanctuary itself. Dr. Owen hesitated for a moment, his hand lightly resting on the door lock to the secure holding rooms.

What will I find? Dr. Owen pondered. A confused, drugged and scared young doe, wracked with guilt and fear? Or a violent, black-eyed monster who'd rather tear my heart out and eat it raw?

He startled as a leather paw touched his shoulder and Jackson flinched visibly. “Sorry, I should have said something, rather than touched you... You're... going to go in there? You do know that - “

Dr. Owen nodded and shuddered. “Yes, I know about the sedative effects on your kind. With how much she was given, I'd be surprised if she's not in a coma... I found another vial, almost empty, in Dr. Mercer's hut. I can only surmise he gave it to her before – well – before he made love to her, but I won't know until I can ask her – or him.”

“I can't let you go in there alone, Dr. Owen – you know that, don't you?” Jackson whispered.

“I understand, and thank you, Jackson. I know your reflexes are faster than my own – so...”

Jackson trembled, as he began panting quickly, oxygenating his muscles, in case he was needed to restrain what could very well be an aggressive and violent therian. His ears flicked as the lock disengaged, and Dr. Owen pushed open the door.

As he entered, the subdued lighting revealed Misty lying on the bed, her eyes closed and her furred chest rising and falling in a rhythmic pattern. The sedative overdose had kept her under, probably way longer than was safe. It had served a dual purpose, keeping her calm and masking the inner struggles that waged within her. Dr. Owen couldn't help but wonder what he'd find, as he left the room and returned shortly after with a reversal agent.

“Hold her please,” Dr. Owen whispered. “This will counter the sedatives she's been given – thankfully, she'll be quite groggy when she wakens.”

Jackson firmly held Misty down, then he winced as Dr. Owen slid the needle into her nape and depressed the plunger.

“Should have... cleaned her - “ Jackson gurgled, the sight and scent of the blood on her muzzle and throat almost overwhelming him. “I'm... alright Doctor, please – hurry.”

Dr. Owen shivered, recapping the needle, as his eyes traced the contours of Misty's face, searching for any signs of the darkness that'd threatened to consume her. The room was silent, save for the rapid panting of Jackson. Dr. Owen, despite his experience, felt a knot of apprehension tightening in his chest.

Tenderly, he placed a hand on Misty's forehead. The warmth of her fur beneath his touch reassured him, and he closed his eyes, focusing on her breathing and feeling the subtle twitches as the reversal drug began to permeate through her body.

In the stillness, he felt a connection with Misty, a bond that transcended the boundaries of human understanding. Images flashed in his mind – memories, fears and hopes intertwined. Dr. Owen sought the truth, attempting to discern the echoes of Misty's internal struggle.

As he withdrew his hand, he opened his eyes, searching Misty's face for any sign of awakening. The room remained tranquil, and a sense of relief washed over him. Misty, despite the challenges she faced, seemed to be holding on to her true self.

Her eyelids fluttered and barely opened, before she gave a weak, choking cough, before they slammed down again and she once more went limp and still.

“Damn it,” Dr. Owen muttered. “Jackson, please, go tell Rachel I need three reversals...”

He twitched, as Misty's weak, feather-like paw touched his hand, the claws ever so lightly contracting.

“Wait - “ Dr. Owen's voice stopped Jackson. “She's waking up... Misty? Misty? Can you hear me? It's Dr Owen... come on, good girl! Wake up...”

Misty coughed and trembled, her eyelids feeling like lead weights had been tied to them, as she fought the residual effects of the sedatives that tried to drag her back into the unremitting darkness of unconsciousness.

“Careful, Doctor - “ Jackson grunted, as he stepped closer and looked down at her, then cautiously sniffed her scent. “We don't know...”

Dr. Owen nodded, then gently shook Misty until her eyelids fluttered upwards and she gazed up at him. Taking his penlight, he held it close to her head, using only the outermost edge of the light to look into her eyes, watching as Misty winced and looked away.

“It's alright, she's herself – she's not dark!” Dr. Owen breathed out in relief. “Come on Misty, wake up sweetheart.”

Misty struggled, then with help, managed to roll over onto her side before she lapsed back into a deep slumber.

“Good girl, rest now, it's alright – we'll get to the bottom of what happened when you're more awake.” Dr. Owen whispered, as he gently stroked her ears.

Jackson crept from the room, then Dr. Owen followed, quietly closing and re-locking the door, just to be safe.

“Thank you, Jackson,” Dr. Owen sighed. “I'm grateful you weren't needed.”

Jackson gave a weak smile, then shuddered and crawled off outside, wanting to be as far from Misty and the scent of blood as he could get.

*

That afternoon, the Therian Council – with Dr. Owen in Dr. Mercer's place, gathered their entire sanctuary and quietly addressed the assemblage. Fear and nervousness had enfolded the sanctuary, rumours and wild accusations had abounded. As the raucous grew louder, Jackson slammed a long foot down on the timber stage and shouted with all his voice – startling and frightening both humans and Therian's alike.

“ENOUGH!” Jackson screamed, almost instantly silencing the frightened crowd. “We are here to tell you the truth, the whole truth – about what happened. No more rumours, lies and half-imagined, delusional theories!”

Both humans and Therian were fraught with unease, and the once-unbreakable bonds of community strained under the weight of doubt. In the absence of Dr. Mercer, the sanctuary grappled with a void that seemed to widen with each passing moment. The healer's fate lingered as an unanswered question, casting a long shadow over the collective consciousness of the Therians. Fearful glances exchanged in hushed conversations revealed the undercurrent of anxiety that pulsed through the community.

“I'm Dr. Owen – you know who I am, and what I am - “ Dr. Owen spoke up, ensuring his voice would be heard. “Yes, there was an incident – we do not know the whole facts, but we will tell you what we know. Dr Mercer and Misty were two consenting adults... engaged in a private moment – and that's all it was – private! However, we do not know how, but there was an accident, and that's what it was! Misty did not attack Dr. Mercer, contrary to whatever rumours and theories you've heard! He was injured, and he's been turned...”

Cries and moans swept through the crowd before Dr. Owen held his hand up and silenced them.

“He's passed his trials – he is in recovery, and he's a handsome red kangaroo therian! He's understandably very weak, sick and hurting. He'll be treated just like any of you would be! Given around-the-clock care and protection. You who have recently been turned – can attest to how we care for our own!”

“What about the doe? Why hasn't she been killed? She's turned to the darkness...” Come the cries and shouts of the fearful crowd.

“No, she has not!” Dr. Owen yelled. “I've inspected her personally! She has no signs of aggression ...”

“How can we trust you?” Someone yelled, eliciting angry calls from the frightened Therians.

“If you can't trust our caregiver, then trust me!” Jackson roared, his voice overpowering and dominant. “I witnessed him examine her! Would you doubt my word as well? One who sits on the council and protects each one of you, as if you were my blood and flesh? Well, would you? What happened, will be discussed, and when we have the truth of it – so shall you!”

“Now, no more mistruth and rumours! Dr. Mercer is recovering, he'll need a few days, as the first transformation is traumatic and painful! We ask you to go about your lives and please, put this moment behind you - behind us – as we come together to welcome a new brother into your mob! There will be no recriminations or punishments, what happened was an accident, and any of you could have done the same!” Dr. Owen spoke from the heart, truthful and honest.

*

Within the drug-induced borderline coma, a clandestine war raged – a fierce confrontation between her kind, gentle and loving self and the malevolent, violent force that sought dominance over her body and mind. The sedative, initially given to calm and relax her – then the overdose – had an inadvertent effect on her. It gave her mind a shield against the darkness, one Misty clung to as she mentally struggled. Her consciousness grappled against the darkness, all within the quiet confines of her young mind.

As the hours slipped away, her true essence engaged in a relentless struggle against the dark and cruel facets that'd sunk its claws and fangs into her true self. Misty struggled to awaken from what felt like a living nightmare, her will vs that of the dark therian, battling for supremacy and domination within her tormented psyche.

You enjoyed it, didn't you? The feeling of power, of dominance and control? I can offer you so much more little one, more than your pitiful little mind can conceive of. Yes, it – was – pleasurable, feeling that pathetic, weak-willed human beneath you, - and – inside you! If those others had not interfered, I could have taken him... we could have shared the moment of pleasure, then turned him...

“NO!” Misty shrieked at the darkness, her voice loud and powerful, yet filled with fear and pain. “He is kind and gentle, he's helped me, guided me... he loves me and was to be my mate!”

“Oh, he mated you alright – admit it, you – loved – the feel of him inside you, didn't you? Alas, your pathetic self-control interrupted us, didn't it? I could have had him for hours, little doe – think on that – hours of mating pleasure... before I would have taken his gift he'd give us, before I took his life. He's a human, weak, pathetic and fragile. What sort of mate would – that – make? Oh, turn him, but he'd never be like us, would he? He'd never be pure-blood like we are, he'd be a bastard hybrid, just like those others! Now, think about it – what I can offer you, all you have to do is submit to me. We'll take the Grey's, they're... pah. They're an insult to what we are! Sociable, friendly, gregarious – separate them – hunt them – feast on their entrails and blood, grow strong sister – even better... that young doe, her... oh... her joey, so pure, so sickeningly sweet and innocent...”

“I'll never... no!”

In her drugged sleep, Misty's paws contracted and gripped at the mattress, her sharp claws slicing through the sheet on which she lay and the vinyl beneath it, her lips curling back as a snarl was torn from her throat.

“You'll never turn me! I'd rather die than turn on those who have helped me, loved me, comforted me!” Misty screamed at it. “I'd never, ever, harm the young one! Or any of them...”

It smiled at her, a ghostly, silhouette of herself – a true dark reflection – as it stood in her mind, then laughed with maliciousness and cruel, mocking malice.

You'll slip up young one, and when you do, I'll be sure to strike – swift and incredibly painfully... remember that...

Without warning, it leapt at her, its fangs bared and claws curled as if it sought to tear Misty's body apart and feast on her flesh and blood...

With a strangled scream, Misty fell out of the bed and slammed onto the floor, where she lay shaking, her claws scratching at the floor as she fought to regain her awareness and muscle control. Sweat soaked her body, and tears sluiced down her furred cheeks, as she sobbed and shuddered, unable to rise – helpless and powerless...

TO BE CONTINUED...