OC oneshots

The Last One

Two dark forms streak through the castle halls, torchlight flickering off shadowy fur. Shouts edged with fury echo, bouncing off walls, distance undefinable. The pair of coyotes dash outside, the wind whipping at their pelts, telling them that they are nearly free. The taller of the two canines pauses slightly to inhale the cool air, a sigh of relief rushing out of them. They'd been in the castle for hours in their failed heist, and animals were meant to be outside, she knew it deep inside. It was common sense; instinct.

"Come on, Verge!" snaps the slightly shorter one, shocking reddish-brown eyes flashing. The blue gray coyote wrinkles her nose and leaps to catch up.

"Yeah, yeah." Verge grumbles. "I'm coming, Scorpius." She glances back towards the castle. From the outside, it's obvious the pursuers are very close. Verge turns to take a step.

And that's when the first arrow whistles past her ear.

The blue-gray coyote yelps and runs with urgency, heart pounding. This is supposed to be the last one. No more after this, please no more. She knew that Scorpius, who was not her brother but might as well be, lived for these thieving tricks. He was born for this, strong and bold and ambitious. But the years were catching up to Verge, who, while fast enough to run from her problems for ever, was not strong (physically or emotionally), or brave, or even ambitious. Thieving came with its own problem: while they wanted for next to nothing, there was a price, as there always is- she could never stop running. I just want this to end. No more stealing. No more terror. Another arrow cuts through the air next to her shoulder. Verge gasps and increases her pace, fear spiking through her again. She's almost on Scorpius's tail now, fear piercing her heart and fueling her energy. Verge passes Scorpius and looks over her shoulder. He's grinning at her, eyes full of elation; the thrill of the chase. He loved running and fighting and stealing; loved the adrenaline that shot through him. Blind to the danger, gaze sparkling.

That's why he doesn't see the crossbow aimed to fire at his head.

The bolt slices through the air after the muted twang of the shot, and Verge realizes that there is only one thing to do. 

The coyote growls and leaps for Scorpius. "Get down, Scorp!" She barks harshly, voice full of terror. Verge tackles him to the stone of the cobbled path before he can even reply, shoulders open to the air.

The bolt strikes true.

A burst of pain that exceeds any sense.

No more.

____________________________

Scorpius's breath rushes out of his body when he hits the ground. He'd realized a moment too late that a bolt would have hit him. Scorpius lets out a shaky little laugh and gets to his paws, shrugging Verge off of him. To his bewilderment, the soldiers are laughing too, but triumphantly. They're disappearing back into the castle. The brown coyote's brow furrows slightly.

The pieces click into place and he immediately denies the thought.

No. No matter what happened, she wouldn't leave me. No. She promised she wouldn't leave me.

But the horrible feeling is already dropping into him, stabbing him. He turns slowly, so slowly, to look at Verge. She hasn't gotten up.

Nonononononononononononono.

As if in a dream, Scorpius pads over to her. He doesn't want to know; he has to know. The coyote shakily grabs a bunch of her pelt and rolls her over. A tiny strangled whimper forces its way out of him muzzle. A crossbow bolt is sticking out from between Verge's shoulder blades. It would have killed her instantly, in a burst of pain that stabbed every cell in her body, agony in every inch of self. Scorpius's breath is coming in gasps.

Gotta get out of here. Gotta help her. Gotta run. Can't stay. Can't be dead. Not real. Not real.

It's becoming too for him.  He reaches down numbly and grabs her scruff. She's light, so light. Blood stains his muzzle as he staggers into the woods. Scorpius travels till dawn, moving robotically, on autopilot. Finally, he sets down the coyote he's known since he could open his eyes, the only friend that he's always had, the only thing he could count on in this world, his partner, his almost-sister. Blindly, he digs a grave. Shoves her in, piles on dirt, watches the earth swallow her up.

Gone.

Gone forever.

Once when they were pups, in the moments before the first robbery, Scorpius had had a twinge of doubt. He'd turned to Verge and asked, "You won't leave me?"

Scorpius had meant during the heist, of course; he was a young male, unsentimental and immature, but Verge had smiled, a bit sadly, and answered, "No. Not ever." She'd kept her word. Now, she'd gone for good. All his fault. Scorpius closes his eyes.

"Good-bye, Verge." He'd promised her that this would be the last one, and they would never have to run again.

It had indeed been the last time, and he thinks the irony will kill him as surely as the bolt would have.