Unnatural Selection - Ch 8: The Final Four by Dikran_O

Unnatural Selection - Ch 8: The Final Four

Dikran_O, Action, Bat, Canine, Cat-Bat, Cowgirl, Foreplay, Hermaphrodite, M/F, Oral, Wolf

#8 of FOX Academy 6 - Unnatural Selection

FOX Academy VI - Unnatural Selection

Chapter 8 - The Final Four

The group gathered in the rocky clearing where they had gathered to assault the fleeing student. The five that had participated in the attack regarded the broken and bloody body of the husky. It had been fun to stalk it and even more fun to lure it into a trap, but the real fun had come afterwards, for most of them. The sixth member, the infiltrator, had mot taken part in the physical activities that followed the capture. Typical, the five agreed through their mental connection, she had always been the timid one.

They thought of themselves as 'The Collective' now, a name that they had snatched from the thoughts of the silver fox before they dropped him in the river. They liked the term, because it suited their view of themselves, and their view of the new order that was coming.

The five of them had taken their time killing the Husky. There was no need for him to live; he was useless to them as a breeder. Not because of his sexual orientation, such barriers can be over come with the right stimulus, but because he was too ordinary. They looked to add or enhance certain attributes through the breeding program and the dog just did not have any of the traits they sought. But a couple of the remaining students did.

"We need to find the others." One of the five expressed.

"We need more rest." Another pointed out. "The few hours we got while they set up camp were not enough after hanging from the side of an airplane and then following that maniac fox across the prairie. And this," he indicated the body of Sanmer Soon, "has taken a lot out of us. I vote we rest until dawn and then go after the others. They will not have gone far in the dark."

The other four gathered by the body agreed. The sixth member, sitting apart from the rest, was silent.

"Nothing to add, sister?"

Without looking around the infiltrator sent the mental image of two of the students to the rest.

"You promised that I could keep a couple of my choosing. You said that we needed these two."

"We need ones like them, and by surviving thus far they have proved their worthiness, but it does not have to be them."

"You promised. You all promised." After spending so much time away from the rest of the collective she sometimes she felt like she was not part of the group anymore, that she was drifting away. She was careful to hide those thoughts from the others. They needed her, but they did not need to be free to move about for what they had in mind. In a way, she thought, they were as cruel to her as their former keepers.

The rest conferred among themselves, keeping their thoughts hidden from her while they deliberated.

"Alright. You shall have you chance." The thought came to her with the force of five minds behind it. "You may attempt to recruit them to our cause. But if they refuse ... death."

Death, she thought, according to their beliefs, death without fulfillment was supposed to be the ultimate sorrow. The afterlife would be denied to one that had failed to fulfill their mission in this existence. But she wondered now if death would not be better than the life she was doomed to even if they succeeded.

"Alright." She agreed. "Let's rest." She got up and joined the others and the six huddled together in the chilly prairie night.

* * * * * * * *

Ansin burst out of the tall grass so suddenly that he fell over. Feeling around with his paws he discovered that the reason the vegetation had ceased growing was because there was a large rocky outcropping here. He risked a few squeaks and discovered that he was alone. Exploring some more he determined that from the summit, if you could call something less than two metres high a summit, he could get a good view over the grass at the surrounding terrain. While it was not exactly the kind of high ground one attempted to take for a strategic advantage, it would give him advanced warning of the enemy's approach.

He had run for at least an hour, through grass as tall as himself, across plains where the vegetation was no taller than the tops of his shoes, and across hard-packed dirt. He had no idea which direction he was running in, or where the others were, and the only sounds other than his own passage had been that of the wildlife he disturbed. Now he stood on the top of the low hill, panting for breath, wondering what to do next.

He looked at the opening in the grass that marked his entrance into the clearing. He looked up to see where the moon was. It would be to the east, or maybe south-east, he supposed. He wished that he had spent more time outdoors and learned to navigate by the stars, or at least find the North Star. But as near as he could tell he had run due west. Given his reduced pace and what Silver had said about the park he should only have another sixty-five kilometres or so to go before coming to the road that marked the western boundary. With luck, someone would come by within the next week and give him a ride back to what passed for civilization out here.

The small birds and insects that he had disturbed had gone back to doing whatever they did at night, and all was quiet again. Ansin thought that he caught the sound of a cry far to the east, but the sound was absorbed and distorted by the masses of gently waving grass between him and whatever it was. Had it been an animal crying out in pain, a bird calling its mate, or one of his fellow students shouting for help? He could not tell. The sound, if there was one, did not repeat itself. And he stood there, his head and ears sticking out above the level of the grass, feeling very much alone.

Ansin wished that he had his banjo with him. Not to play, because that would attract attention, but just to hold. He had always found that running his paws over the polished wood of the neck or the chromed fittings of the head almost as soothing as meditating in his Zen garden. And he badly needed to get his head straight and think this thing through.

Although he did not have his garden, he could still control his breathing and begin the calming exercises. He soon found that the sea of rippling grass with the wind whispering through the stalks served almost as well as his private retreat. In ten minutes he was back in control, and after twenty his mind was free to analyze the current predicament.

He was alone, but he was not defenceless. He had several knives secreted about his body when he showed up for physical training that morning, before Silver whisked them away to this empty land. He had put some in his pack when no one was watching but he still had one on him, a short handled Gerber fighting knife.

He was in a poor position for defence and observation. He could barely see over the grass and neither his poor eyesight nor his sonar could penetrate the ocean of vegetation. A group of enemies, and he knew now that it was a group after them, could approach under cover and surround him before bursting out to overwhelm him. They would, however, have to find him first, but he suspected that they did not share his fear of flying or his nearsightedness. With a full moon and a cloudless sky the clearing he was in would be easy to spot.

He had three options as far as he could tell: Hide in the grass and try to escape, make a last stand on this little hill, or take the fight to them. His natural instinct was to use the cover of the tall grass and work his way west until he found a paved road. But his tendency to be a follower rather than a leader usually led to indecisiveness. Indecision made staying where he was and waiting to see what happened next a distinct possibility. Recent events, however, had changed Ansin. Seeing others die while he lived had something to do with it. Being able to keep up with, and in some circumstances surpass, larger and stronger creatures did too. But the recent discovery that he could use his calming techniques to improve his sexual performance, and probably his fighting skills, had increased his self-esteem. For the first time in his live he felt that he could live up to the Nine Noble Virtues of Asatru. Running, hiding and waiting to be slaughtered were not among them.

Had that been a cry for help, he wondered, or a ruse to lure him into a trap? Even if one of his fellow students had been taken down by the group that had killed Silver there would be two others left out there somewhere. One of them could be Anabel. If he could find her first they might stand a chance. If he arrived while she was being attacked he might lend his help at a strategic moment. If the group had already found her he could track them down and exact vengeance on them, even if he died trying.

Ansin looked deep in his heart, re-evaluated his beliefs. Safety and survival battled courage and honour. What was the wise thing to do? What was the right thing to do? Were they the same?

He scanned the terrain and re-assessed the situation. The vast expanse of grass was truly like an ocean. And had not his mother's ancestors ventured out on the unknown expanse of the seas for no more than the adventure of it? He recalled the tale of Beowulf and how the great white wolf had saved the village of bats from the monster Grendel and its mother.

He pulled the knife from its sheath on his forearm and examined it before slotting it firmly in place. Why should wolves have all the fun, he thought as he stepped down from his rocky perch and waded into the sea of waving stalks, headed east.

* * * * * * * *

Back in Ottawa it was now well after midnight and the staff had been frantically trying to re-establish communications for several hours. Every component in the system, the terminal in the headquarters, the lines and transceiver, even the router in the satellite, was verified and found to be working. The only possibility was that the problem was on Silver's end. Unfortunately, there was no other means of communicating, since there was no cell phone coverage within a hundred kilometres of where they had been dropped off.

The next step was to use satellites to search for them. But since the end of the cold war satellite coverage was not what it used to be, and it never was as good as Hollywood portrayed it. Finding half a dozen creatures in the dark among vegetation taller than they were was worse than looking for a needle in a haystack. More delicate sensors were required, the kind the Air Force used.

Trying to call in the air reconnaissance posed two problems, that of distance and availability. The best equipment was still in Afghanistan, providing cover for the Army as their mission there wound down. The equipment that was available in Canada required maintenance, would have to be shipped to the nearest base for mounting, and then could only cover a small portion of the ground at a time. It could be days before they located Silver and the students, if they were still alive by then.

"Should we send in the Special Forces?" Bill Hanlan asked the Director as the sun rose over Ottawa.

"Not yet." Williams directed. "It could be a simple technical problem. If he is alive Silver will figure out a way to contact us. If we don't hear from him in twenty-four hours we'll send in a team to look for them. In the meantime get satellite imagery every time they go over, and keep on the Air force to get their sensors out there. But put a team of JTF-2 on thirty minutes notice to move, just in case." The big golden fox added with a worried frown.

* * * * * * * *

Frenchman's Creek, still swollen by the unseasonable flooding, traverses the western section of Grasslands National Park before passing through the village of Val Marie, another namesake of the original French explorers. But before it gets there it passes under one of the few dirt roads that enters the park. That road was barricaded by a bright orange structure and a sign advising of a possible Anthrax outbreak just before the bridge over the normally docile creek. It was on the village side because the bridge itself was under a few centimetres of water. It was there that a body had come to rest in the middle of the night.

A crow that had been perched atop the barrier saw the body approaching. The body had been floating on its back with its almost-white snout sticking up in the moonlight. At first the crow thought that it would be carried away by the force of the water. But it fetched up in the shallows where the road disappeared below the surface and stayed there. The crow had happily left its perch and flown down to see if there was a succulent eyeball or two to be had before Mother Nature took the unexpected feast away again.

It landed on the broad chest of the creature that it now identified as a silver fox and checked for signs of life. It was omnivorous, and would east carrion in a pinch, but preferred fresh kill. Feral field mice and maybe a sick rabbit were more its speed though. The only time it had feasted on a fully grown sentient creature was a few years ago, after a single vehicle accident that was not discovered by the police for several days. But it still remembered that feast to this day.

The chest of the fox was still. Not a sound or a wisp of breath escaped his lips. Its eyes, a ghostly blue-grey, stared straight up into heaven. The crow had leaned forward to pluck one of the tasty orbs out.

That is when Silver's paw shot out and seized it by the neck. He sat up and at the same time extended his arm to keep the snapping beak and shredding talons away from his face. With hardly a change of expression he had tightened his grip until he heard the bones in the crow's neck crack. The bird went limp a moment later. Silver had tossed it to the base of the barrier where the ground was dry.

Since then he had been busy taking care of himself.

Once, many years ago in the Balkans, Silver had been wounded on a mission for NATO and unable to escape. The Americans had sent in a Navy SEAL, a cloud leopard who was a personal friend of Silver's, to bring him out. But the final phase of the escape required a lengthy trip underwater and there had only been enough oxygen in left in the submersible sled for one. His friend had put the regulator to the full tank in Silver's mouth and trusted to his underwater endurance to see him through. His friend did not survive.

Since then Silver had worked on increasing his own ability to hold his breath under water. Almost every day he visited the pool in the apartment building where he and Vikki lived and did as many laps as he could before coming up for air. Then when he was warmed up he would sit in the shallow end with his head under water for up to ten minutes at a time. He had to keep his paws moving, even thought that ate up oxygen, because otherwise well-meaning neighbours would pull him from the pool. The first time they did so, after they regained consciousness, he explained that he was a practitioner of the sport of Dynamic Apnea, and advised that they Google it.

After twenty years of practice he was still nowhere near the world record of nineteen minutes, but he did not hyperventilate pure oxygen for ten minutes before going under either.

Silver knew how to dive too, and had managed to enter the water without breaking anything. He had gulped air just before impact and been able to hold on to it as he was swept away by the flood. He knew that to come up right away would mean another attack, but to stay down in the murky water was dangerous too. Nevertheless, he had stayed under as long as his lungs could bear, and used the moon to guide him back to the surface. Still slightly stunned, he was carried several more kilometres downstream while he caught his breath. By then he was in a section where the banks were steep, narrow and muddy, and it was impossible to climb out against the force of the water. Instead of fighting it he tried to concentrate on avoiding rocks and whirlpools. After an hour of that the river had widened, but he had been almost exhausted, so he had floated on his back until the surrounding banks levelled out. He had finally come to rest by the barrier, where the crow met its fate.

A quick inventory showed that he had some scrapes and bruises but no broken bones. He had no weapons either, just a penknife with a five centimetre blade he used for trimming his claws. He had also lost his glasses, but he wasn't planning on settling down with a good novel tonight anyway. Although, he thought, their loss may become problematic later.

His priority now was to get dry before he caught pneumonia in the chilly prairie air. The wooden parts of the barricade would make a nice fire. He took the structure apart and broke the longer pieces into shorter lengths. Grass from the verge and splinters made for kindling. He started the fire by shaving a piece of wood into curly layers and packed them with a bit of dry moss. Then he began rubbing the blade of his little knife hard against it until the friction heated the moss and shavings enough to ignite.

Once the fire was going well he used the metal warning sign as a reflector and stripped off his clothes. He hung them on the plastic supports to dry and stood by the fire until the fur on his belly was dried too. Then he feed the fire and turned to do his backside, not worrying about his tail too much, it could wait for later. While he dried he gutted and plucked the crow. He would need the energy for what he had to do next.

One of the stiff wires that kept the barrier steady in the wind served as a skewer. Silver hoped that this particular crow did not carry the West Nile Virus.

After eating he cleaned up by wiping his paws and face with crow feathers. He checked his clothes and found that except for the seams they were mostly dry. He pulled them on, slipped his penknife into his pocket and hung the stiff wire down the back of his shirt. He estimated that he was fifteen kilometres or so due south of Val Marie, and the nearest phone. Therefore the camp and the students, if they were still alive, must be at least twenty-five kilometres to the south east, as the crow flies, he thought, looking down at the scattered feathers.

Silver took a few deep breaths to fill his blood with oxygen, and then he turned southeast and started running just as the first light softened the eastern sky.

* * * * * * * *

Zac was slightly ashamed of himself. First for running away in a panic without checking on his fellow students, and secondly for getting lost.

He could forgive himself for the first act. After all, he had no idea which of the others was friend or foe; he still didn't. All that he had seen of the attackers was the silhouettes of a few paws and feet just before they had dumped the Chief of Staff in the river, and they could have come from any species, he supposed, although Ansin's skinny digits had come to mind from the quick glance he had gotten. He found it hard to believe that the nearsighted, awkward bat could be part of a conspiracy, but who else could it be? Sanmer, the obsessed and somewhat irreverent husky? Saira, the effeminate little hybrid? It could not be Anabel, whose moods swung from subservient to headstrong faster than the Ottawa weather could change, and that was damn fast, could it? Or was he letting lust cloud his judgment of her? Could she have seduced the others to their deaths? Damn, why was it so hard to decide?

He blamed the uncertainty for his second embarrassment, that of getting lost. In his initial panic, and subsequent confusion, he had forgotten to note which direction he was going in, or even if he was keeping on a single bearing. He could not even remember if their camp had been North, South, East or West of the creek with the weird name. Now here he was, literally in the middle of nowhere with only the stars and the moon to guide him and no idea of which way to go. He had wandered for hours before flopping down on the ground in disgust with himself.

Well, he thought glumly as the sun peaked above the horizon, at least there was no one else around to see how stupid he was.

Or was there?

Zac was had been sitting in a dry gully, idly tossing pebbles against the far bank, when he heard something thrashing through the tall grass nearby. It could have been some wild creature, he supposed, but his hunting experience told him that it was moving to erratically to be one of the local beasts. It also sounded like a single creature, not a group, but Zac was leery of standing up and announcing himself in case it was a decoy thrashing about for just that purpose. He sat and wondered what he should do, the calm, decisive attitude he had displayed in recent days having fled him for now.

He did not have long to dither. Less than a minute went by before the sounds grew suddenly louder as the creature turned toward him. Anabel stumbled into the gully twenty feet away from him before he could get up and hide.

"Zac!" She cried, seeing the wolf squatting there. "Oh, Zac. Thank God it's you!"

Careful, a little voice whispered in the back of his head, what do you really know about her? Nothing, he answered, except that stumbling through the prairie grass all night has not made her look any less sexy. She looked, in fact, like the heroine from one of those old black and white movies, all dishevelled and undone, with a significant amount of thigh and cleavage showing. Even the button at the waist of her khaki shorts had come undone, exposing a tantalizing triangle of tan fur.

She ran toward him, but he did not rise to meet her. Seemingly oblivious to his reservations, she dropped to her knees before him and threw her arms around him. He could not help but hold her as she hugged him tight.

"Oh Zac, I was so scared I would never find you." She sobbed against his shoulder. "First they took Silver and then the shooting started. I saw you run and I tried to follow but they seemed to be all around me! I had to crawl through the grass to get away and by the time I felt safe enough to stand you were gone. Everybody was gone. I wanted to call out for you but I couldn't ... I couldn't risk them ... finding me." She stopped and pulled back to look at him. "Did you hear the screams?" She asked, her deep brown eyes gazing into his.

"No." He answered honestly. "I didn't hear a thing."

"They were horrible." She buried her head in the hollow of his shoulder again. "Like a pig being skinned alive."

And how, he wondered, do you know what a pig being skinned alive sounds like? Zac felt that he should say something at this point, reassure her or accuse her or something, but he could not think of anything that would sound natural. Before he could, he felt a new sensation. That of a paw on his tail, stroking it, near the base where it was sensitive. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up in a combination of excitement and suspicion.

"Oh Zac, I'm scared." She whispered in his ear as her digits made a circle and pulled along his bushy tail. "Hold me, please?"

Despite his misgivings his arms tightened around her, and his paws spread across her back. He rested his chin on her head and breathed in the scent of her. It was the smell of sweet grass mixed with pungent sweat. Innocence mixed with desire. Lust with love ... and need.

Without wanting to, he was responding to her closeness, her smell and her caresses. He could feel the desire growing inside him, and so could she, the physical manifestation of it at least.

Kneeling face-to-face, the groin of the taller wolf was against her belly. Pressed tightly together as they were the stiffening rod in his trousers had to force its way up. Anabel pulled her hips back so she could slip a paw between them. She rubbed his cock through the thick material to encourage it. Behind his back she undid the button on the waistband above his tail.

His trousers loosened, she slid one paw down inside his shorts to squeeze one of his buttocks. In front, the other paw sought the buttons and zipper that held the fly closed. She found them, and in another moment there was one less layer between his cock and her paw. His trousers fell into a pool at his knees.

Somehow their muzzles had become locked together while she worked on his trousers. His paws had also left the safe territory of her back and circled around to the front, where they too fumbled with buttons and snaps. Tongues entwined, he worked by feel, pulling her long-sleeved denim shirt out from her khaki hiking shorts, releasing the buttons one by one. Once the shirt was undone her breasts were exposed as she had not bothered to don a bra after her towel bath. Zac put one of his big paws over a breast, the already-erect nipple tickling the pad of his palm. With his other paw he caressed her whip-like tail.

Anabel had grown tired of rubbing his cock through a layer of soft cotton. She pulled her paws away from him and gripped the waistband of his shorts at his hips and tugged. They caught for an instant on the tip of his stiff cock but soon surrendered and joined his trousers around his knees. Now she had both paws wrapped around his erection and was stroking it slowly. She broke off their kiss and looked down at the reddish pole. Her mouth was full of saliva and she let a dollop drop down onto his prick and then she massaged the slippery fluid into it.

While their bodies were apart he undid the Velcro strap at the rear of her khakis that kept them up around her waist. He pushed them, and the cotton panties beneath them, down over her round hips and smooth thighs until they could go no farther. Returning one paw to her tail area he teased the tender flesh between her buttocks with the tips of his digits. The other paw cupped her mons and, finding it wet and ready, rubbed a digit between the swelling and exposed lips.

Anabel let him caress her twat for a bit as she stroked his cock to full hardness. Then she released the slippery pole, slick with more spit, and moved back against him. He was forced to withdraw his paw and shifted it to her rear instead, where, by pulling her cheeks apart, he could still stoke the widening slit with his digits.

She kissed the corner of his muzzle and nipped him on the neck. She trailed kisses down his chest as she gently forced him onto his back. His trousers and shorts were still balled around his knees, but she kicked her khaki shorts off and straddled his legs. She nuzzled his navel and licked the short hairs at the base of his cock. Then, taking his balls in one paw, she took him in her warm, moist, mouth.

Zac stared up at a sky gone baby blue now that the sun was above the horizon while Anabel slurped and sucked on his aching cock. He had been thinking about her and him like this for a few days, but he could hardly have imagined that they would be doing this while on the run from a pack of vicious ... vicious .... vicious whats?

The distraction almost cost him his erection, but a squeeze on his balls brought him back to earth.

"Am I boring you?" Anabel asked, licking his shaft while she waited for a response.

"No ... I ... it's just ..." He fumbled for words.

"Shhh." She dipped her head over his cock once more before speaking again. "I know. But you are safe with me." She swallowed his prick again and stared into his eyes as she slowly released it. "I would never hurt you." She crawled forward as she continued to speak. "You want me, don't you Zac? You want to feel my hot, hard body against yours. You want to taste my lips, to sample my flesh." Her breasts were above him now, and she brushed one hard nipple and then the other across his open mouth. "You want to probe the depths of my steamy cunt, don't you Zac? Don't you?"

Anabel did not wait for an answer. She reached back and took his throbbing meat stick in her paw and guided it to her gaping twat. Placing the tip between the wet lips, she sat down on it slowly and steadily. Zac felt every millimetre of it as it engulfed his swollen prick with warm, wet delight.

Before she began to move upon it, Anabel leaned forward and locked her mouth on his again. She pressed her small breasts against his chest, and he slid his paws under the shirt she still wore to caress her back. She tickled his ears for a moment before stretching her arms out beyond his head. While in this position she undid the button at one cuff and felt around inside the sleeve. She pulled out a makeshift device.

It consisted of a steel tent spike, a spare that she has absently slipped into her back pocket while setting up camp and a wooden handle. The wood looked like it was from the shaft of a broken shovel, left behind by some former camper. The spike was tied to it with some twine that she had intended to use to make a proper clothes line later, maybe stringing it between two tents since there were no trees in this park whatsoever. It made a crude but effective thrusting weapon. Anabel stuck it in the ground behind Zac's head, where he could not see it but she could reach it in an instant.

She broke off the kiss. Paws on his chest, she raised herself to rest on her extended arms. Then she began to move her hips against him, swirling his cock around inside her.

"We're all alone now Zac." She crooned as she stared down into his eyes. "All alone."

Of course, that was not true.

* * * * * * * *

While Saskatchewan is fairly flat, there are still river gorges, hills and outcroppings marring its perfection. Ansin had found a trail and followed it until he had come to one such high point. The ancient bank of a long dried up river perhaps. The only remnant of which was a dry gully some metres ahead. Head and shoulders above the surrounding vegetation, he scanned the horizon for signs of his fellow students of the pack that was after them.

He immediately caught an image of two figures moving toward each other, and recognized the forms of Anabel and Zac. Previously he might have called out or rushed to join them at this point, but the calm and aware state of mind he had put himself into preferred caution. He stood, silent except for the ultrasonic squeaks that the two canines could not hear, and observed.

He was not surprised when they embraced, they were friends, after all. But his heart sank when she began to caress him. His new-found clarity of mind knew where this was going, and he turned so as not to intrude on their intimacies with only a slight tug of regret. He would sit and wait for them to finish before announcing his presence.

But when he turned Ansin almost cried out in surprise. Squatting only a few metres away from him was the strange little feline-bat cross, Saira. The hybrid was ignoring him and scratching something into the hard packed dirt of the trail. Ansin walked over to see what it was.

The cat-bat had scrawled some symbols in the dirt. There was one that looked like the peace symbol from the sixties, Ansin had seen it on old album covers, but this one was upside down in comparison. Another was made from three spirals that connected to form a triangle. The last, and largest, was three dots in an arc, and three lines that spread out above them. Saira had drawn it by using the claws on the tips of two digits on one paw and one from the other paw. When he was done he looked up at Ansin.

"Do you recognize these?" He asked the taller bat.

"They are similar to some of the Asatru symbols, but different." Ansin replied.

"This one symbolizes the harmony in unity." Saira explained, pointing to the reversed peace symbol. Then he pointed to the spirals. "This one shows that from chaos comes order. The one with three rays and three dots is called Awen, the symbol for wisdom and truth." She help up her paw, palm toward him. The three spread digits with their pads at the base of each resembled the drawing somewhat. "They are Druid symbols, passed down from prehistoric times, much older than your relatively new Asatru. They come from the time of Man."

"Yes, you were mentioning them last night, before Silver was killed." Ansin tried to change the subject. "Have you seen Sanmer?"

"I ran into him last night, but he did not trust me." Saira said as he stood up to face Ansin. He was uncomfortably close, and Ansin folded his arms in an unconscious 'keep away' gesture. The pose also allowed him to put a paw on the hilt of his knife.

"Do you trust me Ansin?" Saira asked. His paws came up and undid the buttons on his shirt. He shrugged it off to reveal a flat, thin chest, covered in white fur with the occasional black marking, and stunted wings that stretched from the smallest digit on his paw to halfway down his side. "Have the others told you about me? Anabel knows, and so did Sanmer." Saira continued as he undid his belt and trousers. Ansin noted the use of the past tense in describing the Asian husky.

"Thomas knew. And that's why he followed me to pond." Saira continued as he stepped out of his pants and shorts. "But it wasn't Thomas that I was dressed like that for. It was you, Ansin." Saira dropped his paws to his groin. Ansin tried not to look at the flaccid little penis hanging down there, but he was getting uncomfortable, and confused again.

"Look, Saira, you're a nice guy and friend and all, but I'm just not into guys ..." Ansin began, about to explain how he felt about Anabel before remembering that she was currently yiffing Zac about a hundred metres away from them. His voice trailed off.

"Ansin, look at me."

Ansin knew instinctively where Saira wanted him to look, and Ansin looked down. He couldn't help it. What he saw made his eyes grow wide despite the fact that it was his sonar that provided the details.

Saira had a paw covering the penis that Ansin had glimpsed before, holding it up against his belly. Below it, where he would have expected a pair of testicles to be dangling, was the unmistakable slit of a vagina. With one leg cocked in front of the other and a paw across his ... her ... chest, Saira looked like Botticelli's Venus, sort of. Ansin's breath caught in his throat and he dropped his arms to his sides in surprise.

"You're a ...."

"What I am is yours. Take me Ansin." Saira stepped against him and wrapped her arms around the stiff bat. But Ansin's back was the only thing that was getting stiff, and he pushed her away. He tried to do it gently, but her grip was surprisingly hard to break, and he ended up being rougher than he intended. When her grip broke she stumbled backwards, falling to the ground at his feet.

"I disgust you, don't I?" Saira snarled up at him. "I should have known. So many of you so-called sentient creatures regard us with revulsion. It is a defensive reaction, I think, because deep down inside you recognize our superiority." While the small hermaphrodite spoke several larger figures silently emerged from the tall grass behind her. They all resembled Saira except that their fur was mostly black, and they had large breasts. They were dressed in skin-tight black outfits with various bladed weapons strapped to them. It made them look like Amazons, Ansin thought; warrior females that were said to kill any male useless for breeding, and hobble those that did so they could not escape. But he was fairly certain that the bulges in their tight pants were not a feature of true Amazons.

"My Brothers." Saira explained. "They look like females but they function as males. They are all but sterile though." She frowned. "The process that had brought us closer to perfection is not yet complete. That is why we need you."

"Need me?" Ansin gulped.

"We were manufactured. The result of sixty years of trail and error." Saira related. "We never met out parents, or rather the creatures that donated DNA to the brew that produced us. The only parents we knew were the scientists and the guards at the installations we lived in. It was not a good life."

Saira went on to describe how they grew up being examined so often that they thought it was normal social behaviour to be asked to strip when you met a stranger. The scientists had been disappointed at first to see that the siblings were all hermaphrodites, but that changed to interest as they matured and showed signs of sexuality. Sperm was taken from her brother's and eggs from her developing womb for examination. The sperm was weak, genetically damaged, and not likely to be viable. But her eggs were fine, as near as they could tell. They managed to fertilize one of them but did not have the equipment to re-implant it inside her, and it died. But it indicated that there was the possibility of a breeding program.

The only problem the scientists faced was lack of funding. The cold war had ended, and the need for a race of super soldiers had diminished. The government was also reluctant to fund genetic experiments on sentient creatures, so the secret project that had begun with the capture of a Nazi fox in nineteen forty-five had to rely on whatever money the American military could spare it. So things were done rather crudely.

Life for the small clan became hellish. Beaten and drugged into cooperation the scientists had tried to breed Saira with her brothers, in hope that her eggs would be receptive to their sperm. It did not work. Next they brought in a series of 'volunteer breeders', vicious and brutal soldiers convicted of rape that had no qualms about poking the little feline with the leathery wings and strange paws. None of those encounters, and there were many, resulted in pregnancy either. Saira believed that it was because she had willed it not to be.

Before the experiments in breeding began the group had received tutoring, and could go about fairly freely. So they had learned to read and write, and enjoyed watching movies in the small theatres typically found in such isolated installations. There was only a small stock of films to choose from, but they had found the series about the dinosaur park particularly fascinating, given the similarities to their own origins. At first they favoured the wallaby, Sam Neil, and the lion, Jeff Goldblum, but later, after the experiments got brutal, they cheered for the raptors and other predators.

They had also learned to use computers, and while they were not allowed to use them to contact the outside world, they could browse the Internet freely. That was how one of her brothers found out about the Humanist sect of the Druids. A sect that believed that all the sentient species were descendants of Man, and that they would eventually meld and re-form into Man again.

Shortly after forming a secret coven of their own based on these beliefs the government ceased funding the project altogether and they were dispersed. But by their telepathic powers, something that had developed after puberty, and wisely hidden from their torturers, they were able to keep in contact. It was another trait that set them apart from the rest of the animal kingdom they believed, never having heard of any other creatures with the ability as developed as theirs.

"That's when we knew why were born." Saira went on. "We were the next step in evolution, the march toward perfection. Fuchs had told us so often enough, but he credited his own people with coming up with the idea, when it was really the Druids, you see?" She gazed at him with the intense glare of fanaticism.

"Didn't the scientists ever explain to you guys that you can't believe everything you read on the internet?" Ansin asked her incredulously. "The web is full of sites that make all sorts of weird and improbable claims." What's next, he wondered, lusty, leggy orcas?

"No, it's true!" She insisted. "How else can you explain the diversity? Man could fly ... bats can fly. Man could breathe underwater ... newts can breathe underwater. Man could see in the dark like a cat. Man could smell subtle odours like a dog. Man could sense objects at great distances ..."

"That is all myth." Ansin insisted. "Myth and legend. There is no proof that Man ever existed, or if he did that he had those powers. You have been sucked in by some unscrupulous fanatics into believing ...." His voice trailed off as he saw the looks on her brother's faces. There is no better fanatic than a convert, he reminded himself, and fanatical beliefs are self-reinforcing beliefs. No matter what he said, it would only strengthen their faith. He would have probably felt the same way if they questioned his faith. "What does your religion say about unbelievers?" He asked Saira.

"As ones so far from perfection, they are to be expected." She recited. "They will need to be cleansed in the course of time. But you do not need to commit yourself wholly to our cause to be spared." She added eagerly. "As I said, we are on the road to perfection, but we are not yet there. We have certain traits that match Man's. We can see in the dark and can breathe in low oxygen environments, that's how they were able to hatch a ride on the airplane that brought us here. And we are telepathic, that is how they were able to follow me and hide on the hanger roof. And we can fly ... a bit. But we need to improve the next generation if we are to fulfill our quest in this life. And we need more information if we were going to take over the breeding program ourselves."

Saira explained how they had broken into the project's files before they were sent away. About the months spent researching on the Internet, trying to recreate the process that Fuchs only had only remembered portions of.

"We came to FOX initially to find the secret behind the process that made us the way we are. Fuchs told us that is where it was kept, by a big walrus with a British accent. But the walrus was already dead and his secrets not so easy to locate. Then I found you, and others, that may be useful to our program." She smiled. "Every student admitted to FOX had some desirable attributes, and strong sexual drives. Your specie's closeness makes the chances of conception good, and we need to improve our flying ability and our sonar."

"What about Matty and Roark?" Ansin asked. "Didn't they have desirable attributes?"

"I was lonely and Charlie was kind." Saira cast her eyes down. "But my brothers were afraid that he would tell about me before we were ready. And he did, to Thomas." Saira looked up, the fire back in her eyes. "Thomas drank too much and he hurt me. He might have been spared, he was very tall and that is desirable because our scripture states that 'man stood above all the other creatures'... '

"Even giraffes?" Ansin interrupted.

"Perfect interpretation of the mysteries in this life comes only when one reaches perfection." Saira said smugly. "If there were no difficult questions faith would be easy, and there would be nothing left for the afterlife." Saira stood and approached Ansin again. She spread her arms as if to embrace him. "Enough talk Ansin. What is your answer? Will you join us and be spared?"

"I'm afraid not." Ansin folded his arms across the small of his back and put his paw on the hilt of the short fighting knife. He struggled to regain the mental calm that Saira's appearance had shattered. He would need a clear head in battle if he was to defend himself.

Not surprisingly, Saira looked disappointed. But she also looked distressed. She glanced back over her shoulder to where her brothers stood waiting. "I did not want to this." She hissed. "I wanted to find a mate and have a few children and if they were more advanced than us, fine. If not ... well at least I would have tried. But this ... this quest. It was their idea. But I was the only one that had a chance to get in, they are too aggressive, too quick to interpret everything as a threat to their beliefs." Saira had stepped closer as she spoke and was now near enough to touch the skinny bat. "I could still get us out of here. We could go somewhere. You could protect me, take care of me." She looked up at Ansin with longing in her eyes.

"No." Anger rose in him and he pushed her away again. Her clan had killed Charlie, Sam, Aglaia and Thomas, and probably Sanmer he added. They probably would have killed Anabel if she had not been delayed by his phone call. Anabel! He thought suddenly, and turned to see if she and Zac were still there.

They were, and he could see her riding the big wolf's cock like a cowgirl clearly with his sonar.

"Oh, yes. Your little bed toy." Saira snarled from behind. Hardness had come into her voice. He turned to face her again. "You like the canines do you? I don't blame you. I prefer a little wolf myself, or a not-so-little wolf." She mused as she studied the couple from afar. "What has she got that I don't have?"

The word 'tits' came to Ansin's mind before he remembered about Saira's telepathic abilities. Her face clouded as she picked the image out of his mind.

"That's the way it is, is it?" She waved a thin arm and her brothers sank out of sight into the tall grass. "Maybe you won't cooperate for your own sake, but I bet you will feel differently when it's your little yiff-bitch that is threatened."

Ansin whirled, in time to see the five harpies break from cover and converge on the fornicating duo.

"No." He shouted. "No!" He started forward, but Saira grabbed him by the arm and held him back.

"Join us and you can keep her as a pet. Mate with me and father the next step in evolution and you can have her." Ansin shook her off. She stepped back, disappointed and resigned.

"Then watch her die."

* * * * * * * *

Silver make his way back toward the camp at a steady pace. He hated running, finding it a pointless boring and painful form of exercise. He would much rather go hiking or work in his garden or throw Rusty around the dojo. But he needed to cover ground fast and this was the only option he had at the moment.

With the river in flood he kept to the top of the bank, but he also kept an eye on the slopes for signs of artificial changes. He did not know what he was looking for, but he would know it when he saw it.

About an hour into his jog he spotted an unnatural-looking hill beside a copse of bushes that had no business growing there. The ground leading up to both was relatively bare compared to the rest of the riverbank. If Silver was right the bushes hid the entrance to an old mine. And Mines often held tools, sometimes held weapons, and occasionally explosives. Without his glasses he would need an area weapon and a few sticks of dynamite, or better yet, a shotgun and a pawfull of shells, would do just nicely.

If it wasn't already too late, he thought.

Silver slid down the bank and looked at the site. Sure enough, the hill was a pile of tailings, rock that contained no ore. The bushes had been planted by the former miners to block the wind from whistling through the tunnels. The bare ground was due to the earth being packed down hard by countless boots pushing wheelbarrow loads of ore. Silver parted the branches that had overgrown the entrance and waited for his eyes to adjust.

The tunnel was surprisingly clean and free of clutter. He soon discovered why. Someone was using the old mine as a storeroom and had been visiting regularly. He found an oil lamp and a box of matches near the entrance and lit the lamp before proceeding.

The mine shaft had been fitted with shelves and racks. One wall was lined with firefighting gear. Oxygen tanks, masks, fire coats and boots. The opposite wall held axes, hooks, shovels and Indian pumps. With all the grass fires the summer lightning started it paid to preposition a certain amount of equipment, he supposed, and the nearby river would supply the water for filling the pumps. Silver gazed at the inventory and wondered which items would be worth carrying the rest of the way back to where he hoped to find the students, and The Collective.

Something farther back in the shadows caught his eye. Silver picked up the lamp and moved further in. The first thing he saw was a danger sign. It was a recognizable symbol, that of a red circle with a diagonal slash across it. In centre of the icon there was a stylized flame.

Then the light reflected of something metal, and Silver raised the lamp to cast more light on the objects stored at the back of the mine. What he saw made him step back quickly, and pull the lamp back even faster. But it made him smile also.

Oh, yes, he chuckled to himself, this will do nicely.

* * * * * * * *

Anabel was moving on Zac faster and faster as her orgasm, and his, approached. Not having brought any condoms along on the last-minute camping trip he tried to warn her of the impending danger of impregnation.

"It's coming, Anabel. Pull off, it's coming. Here ... she ... comes!" But she kept on riding his cock and he felt the delicious warmth that coming deep inside brings. She kept pumping it with her tight pussy, and he could tell that she was coming too.

"Ah - ah - ah." She moaned, trying to catch her breath. "I'm ... I'm ... I'm ..." Zac could feel the hot fluids release and expected her to say "I'm coming" any second now, so he was surprised when she screamed "They're coming!" That`s a new one, he thought.

What she did next was even stranger. She reached out for something behind his head and then sat straight up, still straddling him. She had something in her paws. Thoughts flew through his mind with the speed of lightning. A weapon! Had he been mistaken about her? Was she the Infiltrator? He struggled to get up as she brought the spiked pole down on him.

Her improvised spear intercepted the blade of a fighting knife that was aimed at her throat. He saw that it was gripped in a furry three-digit paw before Anabel knocked it aside and rolled off of him. It was similar to Saira's paw he realized, except for the colour and size. He jumped to his feet, or tried to, having forgotten about the trousers and shorts around his knees.

He fought with his pants while Anabel fought off the attackers. She was under attack by a group that looked to be Saira's big sisters. Not yet privy to the Cat-Bat's secret, Zac still thought of him as male, and assumed that these were female because they had prominent breasts. They were larger, heavier, and their markings were the reverse of Saira`s; black where he was white, white where he was black. There were five of them, he counted, and they seemed intent on killing Anabel first. As quickly as he could he did up his pants and ran to help.

On seeing him approach two of the group ... what had the Chief of Staff called them? Two of The Collective turned to face him. They were armed with short bladed weapons, and he had nothing, not even a stick to defend himself with. But he had to try, he could not let them gang up on Anabel. He ducked the first thrust and scooped up a paw-full of dirt. He flung it at the eyes of the nearest attacker and saw her fall back to rub the dust from her eyes. Continuing the movement, as he had learned to do with his Poi spinning, he came around and landed a solid punch on the other hybrid.

Zac continued to fight like that, spinning and whirling, keeping on the move and letting each move flow into another. The added momentum lent his strikes more force, and he was able to handle the two well enough. He caught occasional glimpses of Anabel, who was also holding her own against three attackers. Her martial arts skills combined with her gymnastic agility made her a hard target to hit. Her weapon extended her reach and legality as well as helping to block attacks.

She was an amazing sight, mostly naked except for the shirt that hung open from her shoulders. Her fur was matted and damp from the sex and the dust but it looked like war paint on the lithe form. And it highlighted every muscles and tendon as she moved about the gully, blocking here, thrusting there, diving and rolling to avoid attack. Zac was almost distracted by her graceful display.

The Collective was not so impressed. Despite their superior weaponry they were not experts in paw-to-paw combat. One of the group stepped back and pulled out Silver's gun. The two fighting Zac withdrew to a safe distance. Zac stood there. There was nowhere to run, nowhere to hide.

The creature was having difficulty holding the silver fox's big Glock, he saw. With only one digit and a thumb to grip the pistol with it was having problems keeping the gun steady. It tried to use both paws but its unfamiliarity with such weapons was evident. When the gun went off two things happened, a bullet buried itself in the dirt a metre away from Zac's feet, and the pistol went flying from the Cat-Bat's paws.

Zac saw his opportunity and ran toward the gun. The others took to the air, moving quickly with short powerful beats of their stunted wings. They did not overtake him, but rather knocked him past the spot where the Glock lay. The third one recovered it before launching itself into the air as well. Zac moved closer to Anabel and stood with his back to hers.

All five were in the air now, whirling and swooping around them. Blades flashed. Zac ducked. Anabel blocked. The hybrids were struggling to stay aloft as they had to work their tiny wings extra hard to carry their bulk. Zac could tell that they could not keep this up for long, but neither could he or Anabel. The question was who would strike home first?

He was concentrating on the one with gun as it tried to hover with one wing and aim with the other. He did not see another dive for his back. But Anabel did. She stuck her short spear out and scored a hit on the creature's upper arm. It turned away with a cry of pain, almost wrenching the weapon from her paws. It would have been better if it had, because while she was overextended, fighting to keep her grip, another dove in. Anabel yelped in shock and pain as blood spurted from her side.

Zac struck out in a series of frantic blows that drove the clan back. He turned and clamped a paw over the source of the bleed and tried to make Anabel lie down. She pushed him away, holding the spear out at the same time.

"I'll be okay. Take this. You have to stop them."

Zac did not want to release her, but a scream of anger and agony rent the sky above them. He grabbed the spiked pole and spun around, just in time to see a black missile drop out of the sun and rocket toward them.

* * * * * * * *

Ansin stood in shock as The Collective attacked Zac and Anabel. Twice he went to pull away from Saira and twice the little feline-bat cross showed unusual strength by holding him back. His mind was whirling and floating, and he struggled to regain control of it.

He saw the attempt to shot Zac go awry. He saw the clan take to the air and begin a coordinated aerial attack. He could tell that it was only a matter of time before one side or the other scored a hit. He almost cheered when it was Anabel that drew first blood.

His joy dissolved however when he heard her cry out. His sonar caught the spurt of warm fluid and his sensitive nose caught the unmistakable scent of fresh blood. Blood. A substance he was obsessed with. In a fight he would not stop until he or his foe had lost some, and that instability had cost him a career in the US marines and the CIA. Blood was something to bring forth, until now.

Ansin turned and struck in one motion, catching Saira by surprise on the side of the head. As he looked down on the naked hybrid a sudden calmness came over him. The enemy was helpless at his feet. He could kill her with his knife in less than a minute. But a minute would be too long.

Ansin bent his knees, spread his arms and let his wings fill with air. With one mighty leap he took off, jamming air as fast as he could to gain height and distance. In seconds he was high above the scene of the battle.

For once he felt no fear, no nausea, as he flapped into the blue. His mind and his stomach were calm. He knew what he had to do. Having gone higher than he ever had before, he turned and hovered while he assessed the situation. From here he could use his sonar to see Saira just getting up. He could see her five female-pattern hermaphrodite brothers taking formation for one last attack. He could see Anabel pushing Zac away and urging him to take her weapon. He could see the blood as it slowly soaked into the prairie dirt. Her blood.

Ansin screamed, an inarticulate battle scream that carried all the pent up frustration, fear and anger that he had been carrying since he was old enough to think. He put his head down, folded his wings by his side, and dove straight into the pack of attackers.

The cry distracted them. They looked about but they could not see him coming out of the sun. By the time they must have received a mental cry from Saira it was too late, Ansin was among them. His knife bit, his fists struck, his larger wings knocked the heavy hybrids from the sky.

But they fought hard, and they were soon joined by Saira, who bit and scratched like a demon. Six to one was not good odds, but with Zac poking at them from below and Ansin out-flying them up above the students were holding them off. Now it was only a matter of outlasting them.

"Go for the wings." Anabel cried from below. "Once we get them on the ground we can finish them. Go for the wings!"

Ansin and Zac complied. Soon drops of blood were flying everywhere as they poked holes in the delicate leather of their opponents sails. It would not be long now.

Ansin felt a blow, and almost fell from the sky as the air was knocked from him. One of the group had managed to get above him and was now fluttering madly on his back. He looked over his shoulder, straight into the barrel of Silver's Glock. He jerked his head, spun in mid air and grabbed the paw that held it.

A mid-air struggle ensued. Each flapping one wing to stay aloft, straining with the other arm to point the gun at their opponent. They climbed higher and higher thanks to Ansin's efforts. Ansin was better able to keep in the air, but the powerful Cat-Bat had the advantage on controlling the gun. It wavered between to two, pointing now at Ansin's face, now at the cross-breed's, now at the ground. Each fought to get a digit on the trigger.

* * * * * * * *

Zac watched the battle helplessly from the ground.

A shot rang out. The gun dropped from between the struggling figures to disappear in the tall grass. The two antagonists separated. One hovered in place. The other plummeted to earth a hundred metres away.

Zac shaded his eyes against the burning light of the sun and tried to see who had won. From behind and below him came a soft sigh.

Anabel! His mind screamed. He turned and looked down to where she was lying on her back, muzzle pointing up to the sky. Up to where a dark figure was diving toward them. The she closed her eyes and her head rolled back.

"Anabel!"

* * * * * * * *

To be continued ....

The FOX Academy series:

Book I - The New Breed

Book II - The Werewolf of Odessa

Book II.5 - The Love who Spied Me

Book III - The Curse of the Yellow Monkey

Book IV - Wait for No One

Book V - Dawn of Vengeance

Geno © Coyotek

New Characters Appearing in this Book:

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