FSE

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Pete nervously poked his head out of his burrow, his senses on high alert. Sniffing and swiveling his ears, he slowly crawled out of the hole then raised up on his hind legs and peered in all directions. Seeing no predators, he breathed a small sigh of relief, but this did little to quell his anxiety. Rabbits were often anxious, and for good reason, but Pete might have been even more anxious than most. He never took any risks he didn't have to, but he had been warned that if he didn't do his shift at the community garden today, he would no longer be allowed to partake of the vegetables there. Pete had been tempted to stay home anyway and live on grass as rabbits could, but the thought of never being able to eat a carrot or radish again had ultimately spurred him into venturing outside.

Pete hurriedly made his way to the garden. He was glad to find he was not the only prey present as a number were carefully weeding the rows of plants. Several squirrels in a nearby trees were keeping watch, so Pete began weeding a row of green beans with no more than his usual amount of anxiety.

The wind was blowing toward Pete over the garden, and despite being alert, he was focused on his work. So he jumped when a voice chirped behind him.

"Hello! I haven't seen you here before!"

Pete turned his head, and his heart leapt into his throat as his eyes fell on a gray fox standing only a few feet behind him. With a squeal of terror, Pete bolted, ignoring the rows of vegetables as he tore through the garden toward the woods. The angry squeaks of the other prey didn't even register as he ran toward the trees in absolute panic.

"Wait!"

Pete heard the fox's call, but of course it didn't slow him. He wasn't going to wait to be killed and devoured!

Pete might have escaped and eventually found his way back to his burrow, but out of nowhere a root seemed to jump up and grab his foot. He felt a snap and then piercing pain as he tumbled into a small hallow, landing heavily on his chest. He tried to struggled to his feet but felt another stab of pain course through his body. He barely managed to hold back a squeal. If he let the fox know where he was, it was all over! He just hoped other prey would find him first! Pete's heart leapt in anxiety as he heard someone rapidly approaching. Would it be help or death?

"There you are!" the anxious vulpine chirp sounded.

With a sob, Pete tried to push himself up onto arms and one leg and crawl away as quickly as he could. He didn't make it far before a strong, clawed hand gripped his shoulder holding him in place.

"Stop! You might hurt yourself more!" the fox chirped in distress. "I didn't mean to scare you! I'm sorry you're hurt; let me help!"

Pete briefly struggled to break free from the fox's grasp but gave up. He knew he couldn't escape. This was the end. "J-just get it over with," he whimpered.

"Are you going to hold still?" the fox asked.

Pete nodded miserably. The fox let go of his shoulder, and their hand ran down his spine. Pete choked out another sob. What were they doing? Why didn't they just kill him and get it over with? The fox's hand ran down his leg, and Pete let out a yelp of pain as their fingers palpated his foot.

"Your foot is broken," the fox stated. "How is your other leg? If I support you, can you walk, or would you rather I carried you?"

"W-walk where?" Pete whined. "Why don't you just, just get it over with, just kill me here?"

The fox sighed wearily. "Because I'm not going to kill you. I would have thought you could have figured that out by now," they scolded.

The fox reached their arms underneath his chest and belly and rolled him onto his back as they lifted him across their arms. Pete stared up at their pointed muzzle full of sharp fangs fearfully.

"I'm Flora by the way," she chirped. "I'm sorry I scared you. I didn't mean for you to get hurt, but I won't let some predator get you because of what happened. I'll keep you safe until you're healed."

Pete stared up at the vixen cradling him in her arms in confusion. What did she mean she wouldn't let a predator get him? A predator had him! He didn't understand why she hadn't killed him yet. Foxes ate rabbits. Didn't she know what she was?

"But, but you are a predator," Pete protested. This had to be a cruel joke. She was just toying with him before she killed him. She wanted him to believe she was going to help him before she sank in her fangs.

"I may be a carnivore by birth and an omnivore by diet, but I don't kill prey," she returned hotly. "Other species get by on bugs, and I can too. I knew I hadn't seen you at the garden before, but it's hard to believe no one has even told you about me. I've been helping out there for over a month!"

"I, um, I don't go there very often," Pete admitted embarrassedly. Could this fox be telling the truth? That would explain why no one had warned him of her approach. Still, he couldn't be sure that if she carried him of to who-knew-where she wouldn't eat him.

"C-could you just take me home. I'll be fine once I'm there," he offered hopefully.

"Oh no, I'm the reason you're hurt, and I'm going to look after you until you're healed. Then you can go home," the vixen insisted.

"But I-"

"No argument!" the vixen cut him off sternly.

Pete winced at her bark then nodded miserably. He was caught, and that meant he was at this predator's mercy. If she was telling the truth, he might still survive, but if she planned to eat him, there was nothing he could do to stop her. He felt so helpless in her arms it made him nauseous. He'd always known he could end in a predator's jaws, but he'd thought it would at least be quick, not like this, not waiting for the inevitable. Even if this fox had good intentions now, could she really resist her instincts when she had him helpless and alone?

"Alright, let's get you back to my place where you can rest safely, and I'll get a doctor to come examine you. I assume you'll need a cast or something." She looked down at him with what may have been a reassuring smile, but there was no reassurance to be had in her sharp fangs. "By the way, I didn't get your name."

"P-Pete."

"It's nice to meet you, Pete," the vixen chirped cheerfully. "Don't worry; you're safe with me."

With that, the vixen marched off through the woods. A short while later, they arrived at what appeared to a leaf-covered mound with a metal pipe sticking out the top. The vixen moved a makeshift door, which consisted of a large piece of maple bark, then carried him into the dark recess. Inside was a pile of straw, a wooden trunk, and a pot-bellied wood stove. Pete could see that the mound had been constructed of interwoven branches, sticks and straw then covered with earth and leaves. The vixen laid Pete on the bed of straw then lit a kerosene lantern with a match she took from the trunk. She carefully set the lantern on top of the trunk by Pete's head.

"I know it's not much," she explained self-consciously. "But I'm making do."

Pete didn't know how to respond. He knew predators didn't usually live in such a primitive state, nor did prey. His own home might have been constructed underground, but it had proper walls and floors and was fully furnished. Prey even used geothermal energy to generate electricity. This vixen lived like an eccentric hermit. Maybe she is. It occurred to Pete that a predator who was really opposed to killing prey probably wouldn't be accepted in carnivore society.

"Are you comfortable?" the vixen asked worriedly. "If you're alright, I'll go find a doctor. Just be quiet, okay?"

Still unsure how to deal with this bizarre situation, Pete nodded. The vixen hurried out the door and replaced the bark. Lying on the prickly straw, Pete stared at the branches that formed the ceiling. Maybe this was all a dream. Maybe he'd hit his head when he'd fallen and was hallucinating this entire thing. Pete lost track of time following the criss-crossing branches of the ceiling. He jerked his head up as the light from outside brightened the room. He was momentarily relieved to see it was the vixen and not some other predator who'd found him, but his heart leapt into his throat when he saw the "doctor" who was with her. The jet black cat's eyes glowed green in the lantern light as the vixen closed the door.

"You didn't tell me he was a rabbit," the cat grumbled. "Seriously, Flora? I can just put him out of his misery for you if that's what you need. He wouldn't go to waste."

"That's not what I need, Tristan!" the vixen shot back. "I want you to treat him. It's my fault he's hurt, and I won't be responsible for him getting killed. If he gets eaten after he's better, there's nothing I can do to stop that, but I won't be responsible."

The cat sighed wearily, "Fine. It's a waste of supplies though." He looked around the room. "Do you have water? I'll need some for the plaster."

"I'll get it! You won't hurt him while I'm away, will you?" the vixen replied anxiously.

"I said I'd treat him. There's no sense in treating a corpse," the cat replied dryly. "Do you have a bucket?"

"I have a pot."

"That will do."

The vixen grabbed a pot from beside the stove and hurried back out the door.

The cat sighed again and turned back to Pete with an annoyed grimace, "What do you think of all this?" he grumbled. "Flora's lost her mind. Living like this," he looked around the hovel in disgust. "Eating bugs. All because she can't bear to kill prey like you. Nothing personal, of course, but that's what predators do with prey. It's called the food chain."

Pete stared at the cat in petrified silence. This predator wanted to kill him and was only restraining himself due to his relationship with the vixen.

"Don't tell me you can't even talk," the cat growled.

"I-I can talk," Pete stammered. "I, um, I don't know much about Flora, but I'm glad she didn't kill me. I don't want to die."

The cat sniffed dismissively, "It's the way things are." He sighed. "I guess you get a reprieve today though. Which foot is injured?"

"M-my left."

The cat stalked over to the pile of straw and set down his medical bag. He palpated Pete's foot, causing him to wince.

"Your second metatarsal is broken," he stated. "I'll need to put on a cast, and you'll need to stay off of it for at least six weeks. I can bring crutches in your size so that you can still walk, or," he paused. "I can kill you, and you won't have to worry about any of that. Do you really want Flora to have to look after you for two months? Say the word, and I'll end your suffering."

"I-I don't want to die," Pete whined.

The cat sighed. "Fine. It would have been nice to get a good piece of prey for my trouble though." He pinched Pete's thigh. "It's been a while since I had a plump rabbit."

Pete felt like might faint. He was a piece of meat to this cat. He could almost imagine the feline drooling over him. Prey weren't supposed to have to endure this! A quick end, that's what he'd always been promised. Predators killed prey, but they did it quickly. They didn't hold them captive and taunt them about what they were going to do.

Fortunately, the vixen returned with the water before the cat could change his mind and kill him anyway.

"Did you take a look?" she asked anxiously.

The cat nodded, "It's going to take a couple of months for it to heal. Do you really want to make that kind of commitment, Flora? He'll just get eaten eventually anyway. Whatever happened, I'm sure you don't need to nurse a rabbit for two months to make up for it."

"It's not your problem, Tristan," the vixen returned snippily.

"Fine," the cat snapped back. "You are going to pay me though, right? I don't work for free."

The vixen frowned worriedly, "Do I have to? I don't think that stuff's good for you, Tristan."

"That's not your problem," the cat rejoined. "It's either the catnip or the rabbit."

Reluctantly, the vixen dug a bag of the fragrant herb out of her trunk and gave it to the cat.

He sniffed the bag and grinned, "That's the good stuff. Alright, bunny, let's see about your foot."

The cat seemed in a better mood after getting the catnip. Pulling rolls from his bag, he wrapped Pete's foot before wetting and setting the plaster cast. He finished the cast with an adhesive wrap. Pete was glad when the feline stepped back from him.

"Alright, like I said, it'll be at least six weeks before that's healed," the cat concluded cheerfully.

The vixen smiled gratefully, "Thank you so much, Tristan. I don't know what I'd do without you!"

The cat's smile fell uncomfortably, and his green eyes glanced around the hovel once more. He sighed wearily then meowed sadly, "Please come home, Flora. I'm worried about you; everyone is. It's okay if you want to eat bugs; just come home. What are you going to do when winter comes? You can't live like this!"

"I'll be fine, Tristan," the vixen returned tersely.

"You don't know that! Come home to your friends and family! We miss you!" he pleaded.

"I can't come home until you stop murdering prey," the vixen returned stubbornly. "Besides, I've made new friends since I came here, friends who know killing is wrong."

"Prey friends, you mean. They don't care if you freeze to death, Flora. You're still a fox to them."

"You don't know any of them or what they think!" Flora returned angrily.

"I know you're living in this hovel; that's all I need to know," the cat returned. "If they cared, if they trusted you, they'd offer you a real home."

"They haven't known me that long. I don't expect them to invite me into their homes when we just met," Flora returned defensively.

"I won't let you kill yourself, Flora!" the cat shot back. "It's one thing while the weather is nice, but I don't care if we have to drag you home. You aren't staying here for the winter!"

The vixen turned away from the cat, "I think it's time for you to go," she replied angrily.

The cat stared at her pleadingly for a few more seconds then picked up his bag and left without another word. Sitting up in the straw, Pete looked up at the vixen curiously. She sniffed wetly and wiped her eyes with her hand before turning toward him with a tentative smile.

"Everything will be alright, Pete," she said. "I'll look after you until you're healed."

Pete thought she was trying to reassure herself more than him. It was a strange feeling, but he was no longer afraid of this vixen. He felt sorry for her. It couldn't be easy to give up everything for what you believed.

"Are you hungry?" the vixen queried. "I'll get you something if you are, just let me know."

"I, um, I am a bit," Pete admitted.

The vixen grinned, "I'll be right back!" She darted out the door.

Pete didn't have a watch, but he knew it had been longer than a few minutes when the light shining through the crack beside the door turned from gold to orange. At last the vixen returned with an armful of vegetables and a fresh-smelling bale of hay, but not alone. Pete recognized the rabbit with her from the garden, a cottontail named Cheryl.

"H-hi Cheryl," Pete greeted the rabbit uncomfortably.

"There you are!" Cheryl said exasperatedly. "You know, Pete, if you did your share of work, this wouldn't have happened." She gave the hovel a disturbed look over. "I think I'd better get you home. We don't want to bother Flora anymore."

"I told you it's no bother," the vixen pleaded. "I'll look after him."

"I'm sure one of his siblings can come stay with him for a few weeks," Cheryl dismissed coolly. "Besides, I'm not sure this is really appropriate. Were you planning to share your," she paused to look at the pile of straw in disgust. "'Bed?'"

"I can get another pile of straw," Flora protested embarrassedly.

Cheryl shook her head, "He'll be better off at home with his sister or brother to look after him."

Pete felt guilty for how Cheryl was treating the vixen. While he did want to go home, he didn't want to be ungrateful. He remembered the cat's words about Flora's living condition. What if the cat was right, and the prey Flora had "befriended" didn't care if she lived or died? This fox had helped him, and Pete believed she really wouldn't hurt him. She had proven she could be better than her nature.

"I want Flora to look after me," Pete interjected. "I, um, I would like to go home, but I want Flora to come with me."

Cheryl stared at him like he'd lost his marbles, "I don't think that's possible. She won't even fit inside your burrow, surely!"

"Sh-she'll fit in my house if someone digs out the tunnel though. It'll be hard for me to get in or out on crutches as it is."

"I'm sure your siblings can manage to get what you need."

"I want it to be Flora," Pete insisted, trying to sound determined. He was a little nervous about the prospect of letting the fox into his home, and he generally avoided arguments. Still, he had to repay the vixen for her kindness somehow.

"I suppose if you really want it," Cheryl replied uncertainly. She glanced at Flora, "Would you mind stepping out for a minute, Flora? There's something I need to say to Pete in private."

"Erm, okay," Flora returned awkwardly. Pete was sure she could guess what Cheryl wanted to ask him.

"Are you insane?!" Cheryl hissed under her breath when Flora had exited the mound. "Is she threatening you somehow?! I never thought you would be the rabbit foolish enough to let a fox into your home!"

"I-I think I can trust her," Pete replied. "Sh-she's helped me so far. She said she's been helping out at the garden for a month. I think she really believes killing prey is wrong."

"She's still a fox!" Cheryl hissed. "So what if she had a twinge of conscience? How many prey do you think she's eaten?"

Pete swallowed uncomfortably; he hadn't thought of that. "St-still, she doesn't want to hurt us now, and, um, she needs our help. You can see how she lives. What will she do when winter comes?"

"I assume she'll go home," Cheryl replied matter-of-factly. "This conviction of hers can only last so long. I just hope it's not me who finds out she's giving this up."

"Maybe she won't if we help her!" Pete protested.

Cheryl stared at him probingly, "You want to be the one to test that?"

"I-I owe her," Pete answered nervously. "If, um, if I die, well, if she didn't help me, I probably would have died anyway."

"Fine. I guess I should wish you luck. It's been kind of nice having a tame predator watching our backs. If you get eaten though, don't come crying to me."

Cheryl called Flora back in, and a groundhog and armadillo she'd brought with her followed with a stretcher. The 5 animals almost filled the hovel.

"Right, we'll carry Pete, and you can grab anything you need, Flora," Cheryl stated.

Flora glanced at the wooden chest, "I'd like to bring my chest, but I might need some help," she replied.

"I can walk if Cheryl helps me," Pete offered. "Then those two could help you, Flora."

"Whatever. Let's just get going," Cheryl grumbled.

Flora lifted Pete and helped Cheryl get him supported on his left. Then she lifted one end of the trunk and the groundhog and armadillo got the other end. The trip through the forest was slow, but finally, they reached Pete's burrow. Cheryl and the groundhog took turns digging out the tunnel until Flora would be able to fit through.

Flora offered Pete her trunk as a seat while they waited. He accepted but regretted it when the vixen sat close beside him. She was imposingly large and her sickly sweet musk was almost overpowering to his sensitive nose. Pete knew she could rip him apart at a moment's notice, but now, she would be sharing his home with him. Was he making a mistake? He'd felt bad for the vixen, especially when Cheryl was being cold to her, but did he really want a fox inside what was supposed to be his sanctuary. It seemed too late to change his mind now. He looked up at her nervously and saw she was gazing down at him with a soft smile.

"Don't worry, Pete. I'll look after you until you're healed. Thank you for taking the trouble to let me stay with you."

Pete nodded in acknowledgement, but he felt a bit ill with anxiety. At last the tunnel was wide enough. Flora helped Pete onto the stretcher, and the groundhog and armadillo carried him in and rolled him onto the couch in his living room. Then they helped Flora bring in her trunk. Setting the trunk down, Flora stood at her full height, her ears almost brushing the ceiling. She looked around in amazement before turning to Pete with a smile.

"Your home is beautiful, Pete! Thank you for letting me stay here!" she chirped excitedly.

Pete tried not to look uncomfortable and nodded, "M-make yourself at home."

"Are the two of you okay now?" Cheryl asked from the doorway.

Pete wanted to say no and ask her to have one of his siblings come stay with his as well, but he didn't have the courage.

"We're fine! I'll get the rest of my things tomorrow!" Flora replied cheerfully. "Thank you so much for your help!"

Cheryl nodded in acknowledgement, "No problem. If you need anything let me know." She left, closing the door behind her.

Flora glanced at the closed door then sauntered over and casually turned the lock, dead-bolting the door. She looked back at Pete with a sly smile, "It's just you and me now, Pete."

Pete's heart leapt into his throat. He'd made a terrible mistake! He'd let a fox into his home, and now they were locked in together. No one would be able to save him! Pete wanted to scream as the vixen sauntered toward the couch, but his throat was tight. Even if Cheryl had heard him, she wouldn't have been able to break down the door in time. The vixen bent down over him, and Pete clamped his eyes shut. He felt her hands grab him under his arms. Then he was lifted into the air before being lowered back down in a sitting position. Pete felt the vixen's warm body underneath and behind him with her arms wrapped across his belly, holding him firmly but not too tightly. Nervously, he opened his eyes: he was sitting in her lap. Her snout nuzzled his left ear.

"Don't be scared. I'm not going to hurt you, Cutie," the vixen murmured in his ear. She gave him a squeeze and another nuzzle.

Pete wanted to squirm away, but he wouldn't get far on his injured foot. Besides, where would he have gone? Still, he almost jumped out of her lap when sharp fangs delicately closed around his ear.

"Shh-shh," she chided at his jerk. "I wouldn't do anything to hurt you, bunny. Trust me. I'll take care of you. I'll take care of you forever."

"F-forever?" Pete whimpered. "But I tho-"

"I wouldn't have made you live in my crude home forever, but now, we can share your beautiful home. I won't ever let a predator get you, Pete. I'll stay with you and protect you forever."

Pete was far from comfortable with this change in plans, but on the other paw, would letting this fox live with him really mean he'd be protected? Would he be spared the ultimate fate of all prey? Still, the price for escaping death in a predator's jaws would be living in this predator's claws.

"D-do I get a say?" Pete asked nervously.

"No," the vixen replied with a hint of amusement in her voice. "You live with me now. You aren't going to try to make me leave, are you?"

Pete knew from her teasing tone that she knew there was no way he could make her leave, or do anything for that matter. He, on the other paw, was at her mercy.

"Well?" she pressed.

"N-no," Pete answered. "Y-you can live here as l-long as you want."

The vixen licked his ear. "Good bunny." She gave him another squeeze and sighed contentedly, "You're so adorable, Pete, and your home is lovely. I know we're going to have all kinds of fun together, just you and me."

Pete swallowed nervously. What had he gotten himself into? This vixen said she would protect him, but he didn't have a choice in the matter. Now, she said they'd have fun together. Pete wasn't sure what she meant, but he felt like he'd become her toy. Did he belong to this fox now?

"I should fix us dinner," the vixen stated. She lifted Pete and set him on the couch beside her before standing and starting toward the kitchen. However, she looked back at him with a sly smile, "Don't worry, Pete. This will be fun for both of us," she teased.

As she sauntered away, Pete couldn't help but notice the sway of her curvaceous hips and the swish of her bushy tail, and he felt his ears warm. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all.

Pete was obliged to wait on the sofa whilst the vixen cooked. When dinner was ready, she returned to the living room and scooped him up in her arms to transport him to the table. Pete didn't know if he'd ever get used to being carried by the fox, but the grilled root vegetables and salad she'd prepared did look tasty. She sat across from him at the table with her own plate. Pete noticed there weren't any bugs and remembered that the vixen hadn't been able to bring all of her things with her. He hoped she wouldn't get too hungry before she was able to sate her carnivorous appetite.

"How is everything?" the vixen inquired.

"G-good," Pete replied nervously.

"I hope so. I'm not used to cooking for prey."

She probably knows how to cook us though. Pete pushed the thought away. All he could do was hope she'd remain committed to her insectivore diet.

When they were done, Flora took the plates and cleaned up. Pete watched her from the table. He couldn't deny the vixen was pretty even if she was scary. A little part of him wouldn't mind belonging to her and being her toy, but a larger part wanted this to all be a dream. Surely, it was bizarre enough to be one. This morning, he'd been leading a normal life as a rabbit. Now, he might be living under this vixen's "protection" for the rest of his life. How could so much have gone awry in a single day?

"Do you need anything now, Pete?" the vixen asked when she was done.

"I, um, kind of need to use the bathroom," Pete admitted embarrassedly.

"Just tell me where, and I'll take you." The vixen scooped him up.

Awkwardly, Pete directed her downstairs. The vixen set him on the toilet but then left the bathroom and closed the door behind her. Pete was glad for a little privacy. After he took care of his business, he was able to stand, supporting himself on the sink, and wash his hands by himself. However, he hesitated before opening the door. He could lock himself in and be safe from the vixen for a while at least. I'd still never get away. Pete decided it would have been a pointless act that would have only risked angering the vixen. He opened the door.

"I, um, I'm finished," he murmured.

The vixen lifted him under the arms but then carefully sat him on the floor. "I need to use it too," she told him before stepping inside.

Pete sat on the wood floor embarrassedly trying not to listen to what was going on inside the bathroom. He self-consciously hoped he hadn't made it too smelly for Flora. However, Flora scooped him up without comment when she exited.

"Why don't you show me where the bedroom is?" she requested.

"There, uh, there's a guest bedroom at the end of the hall you can use," Pete told her.

"Which one is yours?"

Pete pointed to the room closest to the bathroom. "The other room is my study."

Flora carried him into his bedroom and flipped on the light. She looked around appraisingly before plopping down on his bed and lying him across her thighs. "I think this will be big enough for the two of us, don't you?"

Pete started up at her, his ears hot with blush, "Y-you want to, um."

Flora ran a hand from his chest to his belly to between his thighs. Her fingers curled around his testicles, and she squeezed them slightly. Pete sucked a sharp breath.

"You want to have fun with me, don't you, bunny?" she breathed.

"Y-yes," Pete answered anxiously. He couldn't believe this was really happening. Despite how frightening the vixen was, or perhaps because of that, Pete was more aroused than he'd ever been in his life.

"I want you to give yourself to me," the vixen breathed. "I'll take care of you and protect you. We'll have fun together, but you have to swear you'll only be mine, forever."

"I-I'll be yours," Pete whined. "Only yours forever."

Flora stroked his face, "Good bunny." She lifted him to sit on her lap and hugged him tightly.

Squeezed in her strong arms, Pete knew this really was forever. He would never escape her, and if the vixen ate him, he'd still undeniably belong to her. But he felt strangely at ease with this new arrangement. He'd always known a predator would get him in the end.