FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Chapter 7: Blood on the Ice, Pt. 2

"Give me a minute." I hopefully said that before we made it a few yards down the frozen pathway. Normally you can hear yourself talk, even if you are wearing earplugs. The total lack of sound made it harder than I would have thought to function. Even the muffled speech you would receive with shooting protection clamped around your ears just wasn't there.

Krystal was ahead of me by a couple of yards. She came to a halt in the hardpacked snow, giving me a chance to more fully survey the area. As was typical of the game, the frozen wasteland was strewn with remnants of fallen trees jutting out of the ground like monuments to ancient fallen warriors; bizarre alien plantlife particular to this tundra was also in abundance. I was going off of how things would work on Earth, but timberline was typically around 11,000 feet; we were significantly below that for trees to actually survive. The ones which had tried to survive here were huge, although the fact that we were simply running down an ancient riverbed was something I needed to take into account.

My vulpine ally's actions stopped my survey and thoughts about the local geography. During that time she had turned towards me and reached out, her hand falling upon my arm. At the present time it was the only line of communication we had; I forced back thoughts of awkwardness. As if I were thinking of it directly, her speech entered my mind. It was disjointing at first, yet telepathic communication was surprisingly easy to grasp. 'What is it? Are you okay?'

I spoke back verbally; it was a bit easier to get a hang of. I was new to all of this; considering twenty-four hours ago I had been playing games on my laptop, not even realizing I would be traipsing through a frozen wasteland with a video game character in a mere day's time. "I need a few minutes. I need to reload my magazines and catch my breath." As I spoke I started to do just that; my hands pulled one of the empty M1911 mags out of my utility belt. Ammunition was about to become a rare commodity as much as I was flying through it.

Krystal closed her eyes and lowered her head; I wasn't sure if she was also exhausted or expressing her disapproval. It turned out to be the latter. _'I understand your need for rest, but the Prince is in danger. We can't stop now. If the Sharpclaw catch him, he's dead!'_She had a point, but a stray thought had also entered my mind; one which needed to be voiced.

"You heard him. There's something out there killing the Sharpclaw besides us. They're not the only potential threat." I pointed down the steep wash for emphasis. "They've not only beefed up their numbers, but we don't know what that threat is. It could be Lylatian pirates, Venomians... Hell, for all we know we could be walking into a bunch of pissed off Columbian drug cartel soldiers!" Considering the fact I was in an already ridiculous situation and there were likely more of those orbs floating around Earth, what was stopping other people from being here as well? And just because there might be other humans here didn't somehow mark them as friendly.

She stood there for a moment, hopefully digesting my words. I think the mental image that had popped up of an enraged, coked-up enforcer wielding an AKM made her understand my wish to be ready for a big scrape. We were already being pushed to our limits by Sharpclaw; if we started facing blasters or modern firearms we'd be in a mess of trouble. 'Alright, but I'm scouting ahead.' She pointed down the path, mirroring my action. 'If I find anything strange I'll come back.'

As she stalked down the draw I found a nearby tree stump to sit on and started to reload my exhausted firearms. The rounds felt like blocks of ice in my hands; by the time I put my gloves back on my fingers were completely numb. I had just about exhausted all the rounds I had brought with me, and I wasn't sure if they would be enough. I topped up my firearms and grasped my Enfield with as much strength as my rebelling digits could muster. I was as ready as I would ever be.

I started forward; suddenly completely aware of my complete lack of hearing and the fact I was alone. If Krystal got jumped I wouldn't hear her. Likewise, I wouldn't be able to hear anything on my end, and that made it all the more dangerous. Frankly, I was miserable. Blame it on my naiveté, but I had figured that I could have stood a chance to clean house. I may have been using a nearly century-old rifle, but it was a firearm up against Sharpclaws' combined clubs, axes, swords, and halberds. They may have had the odd cannon or two, but I figured this would have been far easier than it had been.

We were surviving. That was about it. Our enemies were giving as much as they got. I was in pain, cold, numb, and nursing one of the biggest headaches I've ever had. I would have permanent hearing damage, on top of the fact it was already damaged from some stupid choices when I was sixteen. The headache and lack of hearing made it very hard to concentrate.

It almost killed me. I felt a slight shudder underneath my feet, but that was all the warning I got. As if it were conjured out of thin air, a long, snake-like beast simply erupted from the snow right next to me. I didn't have a chance to react before it struck. The only thing I could think of at the time was that it was inhumanly fast.

A white-hot, stabbing pain ripped across my left side, causing me to fall backwards. My rifle fell out of my grasp, landing in the snow; the firearm subsequently tumbling in the loosely packed powder well out of my reach. I couldn't hear anything, but I could tell I was letting loose the loudest scream that my vocal cords ever deigned to produce. The snake-beast was staring at me, its beady eyes regarding me as if I were some sort of new prey. Blood was spattered all over its maw; its beak holding a long strip of flesh and cloth. My flesh, cloth, and blood. It took all I had to not puke as it snapped its beak up and swallowed the chunk whole. It just ate a piece of me.

Everything happened in slow motion. My side was already awash with the sticky sensation of blood. It felt like someone had taken a red-hot poker and shoved it into my abdomen, dousing everything with a bottle of vodka for good measure. My subconscious mind was screaming only one thing at me: if I didn't stop this fucker, I was going to die. I was going to become its Happy Meal. I wasn't going to accept that.

My right hand flew to my 1911 out of its own volition. As the snake beast arched back for a strike at my throat, my pistol was already up in the air. I still heard nothing, only feeling the cold block of steel snap against my hand as I pulled the trigger. The snake reacted as if I had hit it with a baseball bat, but I continued to fire. By the time it hit the ground four or five hollowpoint rounds had nearly torn it in half.

The stabbing pain, numbing cold, and exhaustion had all contributed to drowsiness. It wouldn't be too bad if I could just sleep a little bit. Regain strength. I had enough sense to lower my pistol to the snowy ground before closing my eyes. I must have blacked out. Was it blood loss? Pain? Exhaustion? I wasn't sure. I didn't much care, either.

Something 'exploded' in my mind, like some internal burst of light. The only thing I could liken it to was an ER visit several years ago. I had a massive allergic reaction to some medication I was prescribed, and in order to combat the severe pain I was given morphine. I could feel it travel up my arm, and once it reached my head it just 'burst' and all the pain I had felt had been turned off like it was a light switch. What had just happened was comparable, except the pain was still present and it was the sapping drowsiness that simply disappeared. I snapped my eyes open, biting back another scream of pain.

Krystal was hovering over me, a worried expression upon her features. Her mental monologue came to me once more. 'Thank the Maker you're awake. You're bleeding badly, but we don't have time! Sharpclaw are coming because they heard your weapon!'

"Fuck!" I groaned, struggling to sit up. That didn't go anywhere, partially due to the blinding pain and partially because my vulpine friend was holding me down. "What are we going to do?"

'We need to stop your bleeding and hold them off. I know you're in great pain, but if we don't do this we're not going to survive.' She glanced up, her lips curled up into a determined snarl. 'I'm not going to let either you or Tricky die by their hands.'

"First aid kit." I muttered. "Utility belt. Rearmost pocket. You're gonna have to help me." Krystal's response was a curt nod as she reached behind me to unzip the large storage pocket on the belt. It was something I picked up for hiking trips that never really happened, but in this case it carried ammo, water, and the aforementioned first aid kit. After a momentary struggle she extracted it; it was an old Army one I had bought years ago and restocked.

I didn't know what I was doing. I had the kit mainly for minor cuts and burns; I worked on cars and electronics so those injuries were somewhat common. I didn't think I'd be using it to patch up major lacerations, especially not my own. She was too busy pawing through the contents to lay a hand on me and communicate. I was half-expecting her to tell me that she hadn't a clue how to use what was likely a very primitive kit by Lylatian standards.

She didn't, however. She gathered what looked to me like a softball-sized wad of gauze and held it to my wound; I did the best I could to keep pressure on things. At least that's what I was told to do in health class in high school. Clumsily, I helped her wrap a bandage tightly around my midsection to help stop the bleeding. It wasn't ideal, but it would have to do. There was so much blood; my gloves were soaked through with it. So were hers. We didn't have time to deal with the mess. Krystal hastily scooped my rifle up, placing it in my hands. 'We make our stand here. I can hear them, get ready!'

She readied her staff as I tried to steady the Enfield. The pain made it difficult to concentrate. I had to hold the rifle at an angle as I couldn't get up. My blood-slickened gloves didn't allow much purchase on my weapon, but I would have to make do. I uttered a silent prayer as the first group of Sharpclaw ran towards us, brandishing weapons which promised far more grievous wounds than what that snake had accomplished.

Krystal fired first, the tip of her staff giving off a brilliant yellow glow before emitting a glob of flame which impacted the nearest Sharpclaw with great force. It was sent to the ground as if a giant had kicked it. I then regained enough of my senses to bracket one in my sights and pull the trigger. Between the angle I was firing from and the tenuous grip I had on the Enfield, the recoil battered me. My Cerinian ally fired again as I struggled to work the bolt, a practice which we somehow kept up.

I lost track of how many rounds I had fired. The pain was almost unbearable; the Enfield's snapping into my shoulder making me feel like my arm was the target for a professional boxer's rage. Even the Sharpclaw closing in were starting to become blurry, a side effect from my wounds and all I had been through? I wasn't built for this. I wasn't used to this. My body was betraying me, and for once in my life I didn't blame it. Still, I had to fight with every last bit of strength that I had left. I worked the Enfield's bolt and jerked the trigger. The recoil didn't come. Empty chamber. I dropped the spent rifle and snatched my pistol out of the snow. Darkness wavered on the edge of my vision as I fired, the .45 bucking in my blood-slickened gloves. The slide locked back as my vision finally gave up on me, welcoming me into the embrace of total darkness.

The pain had returned. The reprieve of unconsciousness felt like it had only lasted mere moments before the stabbing agony in my side came back to haunt me. The pounding headache, miraculously, was gone. Another marked difference was that instead of the nearly inaudible buzzing noise in my head, my ears were picking up that annoying, high-pitched ringing as if you were subjected to one of those elementary school hearing tests. Maybe my eardrums weren't completely FUBAR just yet.

Another revelation slowly came to my senses. I was wet. Completely soaked through. I wasn't as mind-numbingly frozen as I had been before, but my clothes clung to me in that stiff, barely yielding way that only soaked jeans and sweatshirts really would. I can't begin to express that the exact sensation I was enduring was one which that small neurotic part of my brain just couldn't stand. If it meant stripping down to my boxers and a T-shirt until I could get my ass home, I was going to do it.

I sat bolt upright or at least tried to; my frame was instantly pinned to the ground by hands gripping my shoulders. My eyes snapped open, my hand instinctively reaching for the pistol strapped to my thigh until I realized the bright green eyes staring back at me belonged to a certain vixen I knew. Her expression was of instant relief, something which caused me to balk as I took a quick glance down. I was completely soaked through except for what looked like a recently reapplied bandage across my midsection. The gauze was still spotting through with blood in areas. Her voice once more carried into my mind. 'You're awake! I was afraid we had lost you. Please, don't struggle; you've lost much of your blood.' I was beginning to tire of all the telepathic communication. Damn my ringing ears.

I glanced around for a split instant, trying to get my bearings. Judging by the cold stone I was laying on, the mossy bricks replacing blue sky above our heads, and the wooden supports holding the entire works together we were in the mineshaft which led back to Thorntail Hollow. I was soaked through and so was Krystal; to be frank about it she looked like a drowned rat with clothes on. That meant she dragged my ass off of that mountain. She saved my life, literally. "How long was I out?" I asked tentatively; I was afraid to find out.

'A few hours. You blacked out while the Sharpclaw were attacking us. I managed to hold them off until they decided to retreat. I couldn't wake you, so I had to bring you down myself. I was afraid you weren't going to survive.' She turned away just then, glancing down the mineshaft. 'I couldn't bring your rifle; I couldn't fight with the combined weight.'

Scratch my most effective weapon. Christ. The loss of my Enfield stung, but unless I wanted to trudge back up to pluck it out of the snow it was going to stay there. "Damn it." I huffed a sigh at her. "I know you did your best, but it's a pretty bad drawback." I brushed my hand against my waist, reassuring myself that my utility belt was still attached. Most of my pistol ammunition was there. The rifle afforded a longer reach and better stopping power, but if all we had were my pistols and shotgun they would have to do.

'We need to get you back to my ship.'_The Cerinian gave a worried frown, wrapping an arm around my shoulders and gently easing me into a sitting position. _'You're in bad shape and I'm going to need some attention as well.' As she mentioned this she helped me to my feet, making sure to keep my wound as steady as possible. 'I can get the Warpstone to teleport us there. You won't have far to walk.'

"How did you get me past all that?" I inquired as we started down the rough-hewn path back to Thorntail Hollow. "I mean, you had to lift me up ledges, fight off Sharpclaw, and somehow swim back here. I was dead weight." The fact she would do that for someone she just met was astounding. She was more effective in a scrap than I was, and...

Her mental rebuke cut me off. 'You are too hard on yourself. We are watching each other's tails.' I was reminded that she could read my thoughts when we were like this.'I could have easily died back in that lava pit, but you dragged me up. It wasn't easy, but I wasn't going to leave you to bleed to death up there. I had to rely on all of our resources to do it.'

"All of our resources?" I glanced down to find that my 1911 was tucked in her waistband; along with the Taurus I was letting her use. The image of her standing over my unconscious form, driving off Sharpclaw troops with my pistols after she had ran out of energy for her staff flashed into my mind. Did she send that one, or was that a figment of my imagination?

'It was real.' Her response was to the point. We emerged into the warm, sunlit air of Thorntail Hollow. My chilled, soaked, pain-wracked body was instantly grateful for it. The all too recent exposure to the frozen wasteland we fought through wasn't something I wanted to relive anytime soon. Unfortunately, we were going to have to go through there again.

'You mean the voice calling out to me as we went into the tunnels? We have to free him, yes. But, his life isn't in danger. We need to attend to ourselves or we may be killed.' Krystal helped me to the ladder which led back down to the temperate valley. As she did so she guided me behind her, my arms wrapping around her shoulders. It was about the only way we could get down, unless I wanted to split my wound open or jump down and risk breaking my legs.

We made it down without incident, her original plan of getting us to her ship beginning with one quick march towards the Warpstone. Even though I had lost one of my most effective weapons, the chance to get my wounds healed and some rest was what propelled me forward. Maybe something would go my way for once. However, the bad day was inevitably turned even worse.

Tricky came bounding up to us as if he were being chased by more Sharpclaw. He looked like he was shouting something, though with the ringing in my ears I couldn't tell what it could have been even without the language barrier. Krystal was too busy responding to him to provide a translation, and without any ceremony I was yanked along as she moved forward as fast as she could carry me. As we reached the creek she swept me up into her arms and forded it as if I were merely a piece of equipment. In response to my unanswered question, her only words were 'There's no time to explain!'

Afterwards we rushed into the small crevice which held the Earthwalker Queen. Tricky had made it there before us, and I got my first glimpse at the massive triceratops. She was as long as my car and about twice as tall; she was probably far heavier than my land yacht as well. As I gazed upon her majestic form slumped against the wall of the crevice, I was once again reminded of a little factoid I had forgotten: she gets extremely sick and has to be fed those white mushrooms in order to regain her strength.

'This happens in your entertainment program?' Krystal asked, a scowl appearing on her muzzle. 'She might die before we can get our own treatment. I'm sorry, but we're going to have to help her before I can attend to your wounds. Will you stay here and watch over them?'

I shook my head. I may have been badly hurt but I knew what lurked beneath that well. There weren't other Sharpclaw, per se, but it was still pretty dangerous. It was teeming with those red mushrooms I had wisely avoided. If the spore clouds they emitted were enough to cause damage to Fox in the game, they might be almost lethal in reality. "I'm going with you. You saved my ass, and I'm not letting you go alone."

The vixen cast an incredulous look at me, her emerald eyes full of surprise and concern. 'You're wounded and can't hear anything. You're in no shape to fight and we don't have time to heal you!'

I glanced right back at her. "I have an idea. You're just going to have to trust me."