The Stinky Life I've Accepted

Chapter 26: What is this?

Ryker 

The peace seems to last forever, but the longer it continues, the more cautiously alert I appeal to be. Something is wrong. 

This isn't normal... I can't remember myself or what has been going on recently, and yet, the nagging feeling of doom lingers within me. 

I feel like I have to fight, but I am in the woods, free and wild. No predators around, or other animals that would want their way with me... I have never felt this feather-like-lightness before, or this comfortable in my own skin. 

I energetically bound after a bunny in my fox form, skulk around for berries as a skunk, and even climb the croaking trees when human fingers are available. 

And yet, there is that little whisper in the laughing wind that won't rest, warning me of the wrongness of these experiences. The dread within my stomach won't stop building. 

Finally, it explodes, and as quickly as I can blink, everything is sucked away. I am slammed into a cold, hard ground, and I wince in pain. 

I barely have time to breathe before my body is lifted and knocked into another hard surface, this time right at my back. 

I am tossed around like a rag doll, almost suffocating due to the lasting torture. I groan as my chest erupts with fire, my body a puppet as it lies limp upon the surface. 

I hiss when I am lifted again, and desperately, I attempt at the task to prepare and to brace myself for the next impact. But it doesn't come. Something hesitates, and I hold my breath, hoping against hope that whatever interrupted... will stay. 

I don't think I can take any more. 

"He's coming around! Make sure he stays that way! I don't want him falling back asleep in this state!" A faint, familiar voice rushes out, and my weightless body shudders, the white edges of the scene cracking. 

"We got him, Doc. We got him." Another voice replies back, unwavering, and my body seems to float towards the ends of this prison. This somewhat endless prison that has been having its way with no end in sight. 

"There we go, sweetheart. Come back to us. You're okay." Everything freezes, and my breath comes out in cold, whisks of air. Like clouds assembling for the storm that is yet to come. The white is steadily replaced by darkness, and my chest constricts as it is grasped by consternation. 

I'm not anyone's sweetheart. I'm not. 

The darkness molds into reflective, breathing glass. It shimmers for a few seconds before it reveals a little boy on its structure, about only two or three years of age. His dirty black and white puffy tail drags across the floor, and his tiny ears barely visible as he does his best to hide them. 

I inhale sharply, turning my back on the image, but the glass now in front of me breaks away into another image of the same little boy, beaten bloody with two adult beings staring down at him... disgust and anger clearly written on their faces.