Group Therapy (gay furry camp story)

8 - mortar's teddy bear

"Fuck..."

Ryan grumbled with the effort of getting out of his own hole. He had needed to hook the blade of his shovel up onto the surface and try to pull himself up. This may sound like a simple task, but it took the coyote many, many attempts.

He pulled himself out in perfect timing, it seems. Hooking his leg up onto the cracked ground before he managed to pull his shaky legs up and over. Exhausted, he lay on the ground. Huffing in steam.

"Got fight in ye."

Ryan eyes widened in momentary surprise, as this wasn't a voice he'd heard before. It was the deepest of the lot, crackly - as though it were coming from sick lungs.

The dark bird then stepped out from the darkness, coughing into his wing.

What was more menacing, though, was this untreated silence that was growing between them, like a standoff. Ryan peered over at the horizon, taking in the orange rays of dusk. It'd be the perfect time for a standoff too.

"Er - thanks." Ryan finally said.

The bird stepped forward and Ryan shook his wing. His expression was rather flat, as though he'd seen too many things die throughout his lifetime. His eyes were friendly though, showing signs of sparks and life unlike the rest of him. A bird's age was usually difficult to decipher. They looked the same throughout their entire lifespans, usually. Ryan guessed from the others that this one would be around his age, maybe a bit older.

"I was tryna get that shovel," Said the bird, grinning. "But a handshake'l do I guess."

"Oh." Ryan said, "sorry" he quickly gave the bird his shovel. He'd been holding it for so long that it almost felt like he was giving away one of his limbs.

"No worries..."

The bird coughed hazily, not bothering to cover his beak with his wing, and walked off his own way.

Ryan wondered how long he had been waiting there with his shovel. Then, from the bird's curtness, as well as the other holes, he began to wonder how quickly the others had finished their holes on their first days at this camp. Back when they were the freshy. Back when it was they who had their ass laughed off by the other boys.

By the time he had gotten back to his tent, Ryan felt so stiff in the knees that he could hardly walk. On opening his tent, he was surprised to find Mortar sitting up in his bed, his paws busily working on something.

He noticed Ryan and quickly stuffed whatever it was under his pillow.

Ryan peered at him with curiosity, and it occurred to him that this was the first time he had made eye-contact with his roommate upon meeting him. He knew better than to ask. But he did anyways: "What you got there?"

The bear grumbled.

Ryan rolled his eyes, too tired to pry. He also didn't care enough to, and in seconds his eyes were closed, his arms were behind his head, and he was already dosing off.

After a while, he rolled onto his side. It was quite amazing, but what was keeping Ryan awake was the bear's lack of snoring. After a while, the coyote slowly opened one eye.

He saw the tiny silhouette of a teddy-bear suspended above Mortar, as the larger bear played with it, making somewhat of a puppet show against the tarp walls.

The coyote smiled, watching the scenes being silently acted out. He could see a sort story to it, as the Teddy bear took on different characters, frolicked over to different places. One time, he even saw Mortar attempt to create a shadowy shape with his massive paw, scrunching it up experimentally. He was trying to make a dog. Or a rabbit? It was very hard to tell.