{"sf1_id":1817472,"sf2_id":"zeRzOJre","title":"group therapy Part 7","author":"nuzzleworthy","words":2106,"posted_at":"2022-02-08T09:10:00.000Z","tags":["Arctic Fox","Bear","Camp","Canine","Cat","Character Development","Coyote","Fox","Hyena","Plot Development","Romance"],"url":"https://fse.anthro.fr/stories/1817472-group-therapy-part-7","original_url":"https://sofurry.com/s/zeRzOJre","image_url":"https://cdn.sofurryfiles.com/submissions/thumbnails/49/e3/49e324dc-fa61-4f62-9298-b41014c1c806","description":"#7 of group therapy\n\nwe're all just how we're stained","content":"Ryan's first night of sleep had gone as bad as he had expected it. The bear's snores were so loud, that Ryan considered whether this was the trait that had earned the bear his nickname.\n\nIt was early on his next morning, when he was begrudged and his eyes were bagged, that he was asked to perform the first impossible task of many to come.\n\n\"Yo, wake up ye' bloody freeloader!\" Sneered a voice with all the demand of a morning bugle.\n\nEven Ryan in a sober state would've have pin able to pin that accent to Kyle. But Kyle was who it belonged to. And for whatever reason, the fox looked so angry is almost seemed personal.\n\n\"I'm not fuckin' tellin' ye again, mate.\" He snarled and flipped the poor coyote off of his mattress.\n\nFor once Ryan was thankful for the soft dirt floor on the tarp, otherwise he'd be starting this morning with a few bruises.\n\nThe fox left, and how he kept his fur its natural snowy white out in these conditions was a mystery. Ryan frowned, realising the bigger mystery to be why Kyle had been acting like such an asshole this past day. But before he was fully out the door, he stuck his head around, looked the coyote up and down, and spat on the floor. \"And wear somethin' ye don't mind ruinin'. If yer smart, that is.\" He said, and left.\n\nEven when Kyle's footsteps had faded well out of earshot, Ryan still lay on the ground, locked in thought. He cursed the fox under his breath, and he distinctively remembered how Kyle hadn't an ounce of that accent the first time he saw him in the basketball court.\u0026nbsp;_Almost a different fox_, he remembered the hyena saying.\n\nAfter a few grunts, and some flavored swearing about his new life, Ryan pushed himself off the ground and followed the fox's advice. Amazingly, as he slid on the more stretched of his two shirts, Mortar's snores still vibrated the tarp walls of the tent. The coyote smiled, thankful for that minute - brief as it were - where the thought of suffocating that bear hadn't been on his mind.\n\nBenji was getting tired of Bandit's face. Especially that flat, almost concerned expression that had plastered to it.\n\n\"I want to have a chat with Whiteout,\" The cat asked, although in how commanding his voice was it was more of a statement.\n\nThe fox snarled, bearing its teeth before spitting on the ground again. \"Fugoff, mate. Christ, how many times this las' week have ye asked me that?\"\n\nThe cats eyes twitched and he stared dead-ahead. It occurred to Benji the only time Bandit actually talked to\u0026nbsp;_him_\u0026nbsp;- as opposed to Kyle - was when the rest of the gang couldn't possibly be listening. Bandit was also the only one who actually knew that he existed. Clever cat, Kyle's supposed 'leader' was.\n\nRight now they were all enjoying breakfast. And enjoying was an understatement; Camp D had slipped them through some hash-browns in the last shipment.\n\nBandit rolled himself a cigarette, and he didn't seem very concerned that he was too young to smoke it. \"I'm gonna let that one slide, Benji.\"\n\n\"Aw, why's that? Ye scared to punish me?\" The fox cackled.\n\nThe cat hesitated, and his ears flicked back out of curiosity. \"Tell me, Benji, does Kyle feel pain when you do?\"\n\nThe fox held his tongue. Arrogant as he was, he knew better than to let the cat get him talking. Every word he'd say would be like handing Bandit pieces to the puzzle of how Kyle worked. Benji couldn't risk that. For him it was life or death.\n\nBandit smirked. \"Didn't think so.\"\n\nRyan walked as far as the community tent before he was stopped my a cup of coffee. The paw holding it belonged to a very, very happy hyena. The hyena had a newspaper hat perched on his head, pushing down his ears, the same kind kids would make out of boredom in primary school.\n\n\"Hey there, mate.\"\n\nBefore Ryan could give his own greeting, Flack had given him something and it wasn't coffee - he looked down in his hands to find that they were both grasping the wooden length of a splintering shovel.\n\n\"Ever read 'Holes'?\"\n\nRyan shook his head.\n\n\"Crazy book, 'bout all these boys that dug big holes every day. You'd love it.\"\n\nRyan peered down at his shovel and felt a sick feeling down in his stomach.\n\nFlack punched his shoulder with a chuckle. \"Don't you worry your pretty little face, mate. Only one hole for you. Ye' remember those big ones at the bag of camp?\"\n\nRyan recalled peering down into them, having felt amazed by their sheer depth and circumference. It was that kinda hole that you could break an ankle falling into.\n\n\"Christ, Flack, you're not being serious...\u0026nbsp;_are\u0026nbsp;_you?\"\n\nThe hyena squinted.\n\nThey walked to the back of the camp, where all the other boys were waiting with their breakfasts. It dawned on Ryan that he was going to have an audience while digging this whole. They hooted and hollered at their newest member as he walked out into the field, shovel clasped nervously in his paws.\n\n\"This spot, right here.\" The hyena tapped his foot at a very specific space of dirt, although to Ryan the spot seemed just as random as all of the other holes. \"Don't stop until you've hit water.\" He said, then added, \"seriously, don't stop. It's quite possibly the worst thing you could do for yourself.\" The hyena's eyes flicked over towards the other boys. Ryan understood what he meant.\n\nHe felt hopeful with the shovel in his hands, silently mouthing 'Okay, I can do this'... his first dig with the shovel bounced out from something hard on the ground. He'd barely made a crack in the soil.\n\nBandit's boys howled with laughter.\n\nHe got more luck on his next few strikes, as he was beginning to break through the sun-baked sun making up the grounds top-layer.\n\nAfter half an hour, he'd made a fairly good attempt of cracking through the hard stuff. The red clay descended into a muddy brown the deeper he went. Every now and then there'd be a rock that would send a jolt up Ryan's arm muscles, but that was nothing in comparison to the splinters.\n\nAfter three hours, his paws felt as though they were wooden than the shovel was. Most of the splinters stuck out from his flesh like a new addition to his fur. He'd eventually decided to stop picking at them and just leave them in, as he knew that he'd be getting many more before this job was done and this impossible hole was dug.\n\nThe midday sun beat down on his neck, his mouth dry and his fur soaked with a fresh layer of sweat. All of bandit's boys had stopped watching him and were off doing more important looking activities. Only one of them stayed to watch, a tired-looking bird with dark feathers and dark eyes, who was too concerned with coughing and sneezing to really be doing anything productive.\n\nRyan had once waved out to him. Despite staring back at the Ryan, the bird hadn't waved back.\n\nAfter four hours of pure digging, Ryan's motivation was hanging solely onto the hyena's advice on not to stop. It also became a looming frustration, that he had inflicted so much more work on himself than was actually necessary. Ryan had tried to dig the hole very deep whilst keeping it small to reduce the work for himself, but he hadn't planned on what he'd do what he was submerged\u0026nbsp;_in_\u0026nbsp;the hole. It was too tight to work efficiently, and he had to hoist himself out - thankful that he only had a small audience - and dig the hole thing to be wider. He felt as though he weren't making progress... and he swore to himself that as long as the bird was watching him, he'd keep slamming his shovel into that dirt.\n\nThe bird of course left five minute later. Probably to go treat the nasty cough he had.\n\nRyan's motivation was in tatters.\n\nAround the five hour mark, just when Ryan had been considering throwing his shovel down and begging the boys for water, a fox peered down into the hole.\n\n\"Hey.\" Said Kyle, cocking his head.\n\nRyan kept digging as if he hadn't heard him. The fox had come before earlier and tried to land spit on top of the coyote's head, cackling evilly each time a wad of spit had slapped on top of Ryan's shoulders.\n\n\"I brought some water, figured you'd be thirsty.\"\n\nThe fox could have been satan himself and Ryan still would have accepted that water. He caught the water bottle and nearly sculled the whole thing before he had to gasp for air.\n\nThe fox dropped down next to him and sat against the soil wall. The soil got softer the deeper Ryan had dug, but that had also been matched with the challenge of trying to fling each load up and out of the hole.\n\n\"Wow, this is the best one I've ever seen!\" Said the fox, sounding different. \"Most holes are crooked or slanted as they go down, but this is pretty much perfect circle.\" He patted Ryan on the pack, whose expression couldn't be more confused. \"Solid job, man. You should be proud.\"\n\nRyan opened his mouth, swallowed, changed his mind. \"Kyle.\" He said.\n\nThe fox's ears pricked up alongside its smile.\n\n\"Are you okay?\"\n\nKyle picked some dirt out of his fur before blowing a raspberry. \"What kind of question is that, man. Course I'm okay. Todays been one of the coldest days we've had in ages, man.\" He looked up at the stars and sighed. \"Nowhere as cold as how the arctic would be right now, but... you get what you get I guess.\"\n\n\"I don't give a shit about the arctic.\" Ryan said, very slowly. With hot and bothered he had been, he was surprised he hadn't\u0026nbsp;_punched\u0026nbsp;_the fox.\u0026nbsp;\"I mean mentally. Are you\u0026nbsp;_mentally_\u0026nbsp;okay?\"\n\nThe fox hesitated. \"Jeez, man. I hope so-\"\n\nIt had been sudden. Ryan had grabbed the fox by his shoulders and was shaking him so hard that his head bashed the dirt wall behind him.\n\n\"KYLE CUT THE SHIT RIGHT FUCKING NOW!\"\n\nThe fox was too shocked to speak.\n\n\"JUST TELL ME WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU!\"\n\n\"...\"\n\n\"TELL ME!\" Ryan howled.\u0026nbsp;\n\nThe fox struggled against his muscles.\n\n\"Or I'll FUCKING EAT YOU!\"\n\nThe fox was able to shove Ryan hard enough to slide out of his grip, and in the brief seconds where he was finally loose, he had already scampered up and out of the hole and was already gone.\n\nRyan was alone once again. And after his adrenalin had cooled down he began to quietly sob to himself. His his palms hard against the side of his head, filled with mental anguish, tears fulling into the dry ground under him.\n\nBut they splashed as there was a layer of water there...\n\nAnd as soon as he had seen it, he was feeling this wet, tingly feeling as the right side of his pants got wetter. He head a dripping noise, and when he turned to face it he saw where the water was coming from: the dirt wall, through thing cracks. A leaking crater, where he'd put the fox's head into.\n\nTears filled his eyes once more, as he realised that he could finally stop. That he could finally put the shovel down, finally crawl back into his dirty bed and soak more sleep. He wouldn't even care about Mortar's snores. In fact, fuck it, he'd\u0026nbsp;_like_\u0026nbsp;to those snores right now.\n\nHe should be feeling satisfaction. The serotonin completing such an impossible task... in short he should be feeling better than he did now...\n\nHe lay his head into the muddy water, feeling it's cool slickness soak into his fur. It washed over the blisters on his paws. It soothed the splinters.\n\nHolding his face down in the muddy water, he wondered if he should just keep it there. Whether he should just choke on it.\n\nUnbeknownst to him, the red mud stained into the fur on his face as he held it there. A stain that shaped like a mask around his fur, playfully colouring his ears and muzzle at random.\n\nWhen he finally turned himself over, sucking in breath, he had a stain quite similar to Bandit's. The difference being that Ryan's looked more brutal. More of blood.\n\nMore of bloodshed.\n\n  \n  \n\n","series":{"name":"group therapy","previous":"https://fse.anthro.fr/stories/1816814-group-therapy-part-6.json","next":"https://fse.anthro.fr/stories/1817523-group-therapy-part-8.json"}}