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My entry I did a while ago for some TT, raod trip.
Category Artwork (Digital) / Fanart
Species Fox (Other)
Size 1280 x 791px
File Size 311.2 kB
Listed in Folders
The car moved at a sedate pace along the dusty road. It had to of course, firstly there was the speed limit, not more than 50 miles an hour, and secondly the road was unsealed, any speed would send up stray rocks to shatter windows and dent paintwork. But Gabriel 'gabby' Grey liked to take things slowly and driving was no exception.
Beside him, in the passenger's seat, his son, Gideon, stared out at the passing farmland as if he'd heard it insult his mother. Just a few years ago he would have regarded the gently rolling landscape with the wide-eyed wonder of most pups, but now it seemed he had a different outlook on things and the elder Grey didn't like it one bit. It was part of a whole bunch of changes that worried him, and indeed the ride was ostensibly to relive some pressure after the events of the previous two weeks.
His son had attacked a schoolmate, a bunny, at the Carrot Day Fair. It hadn't been anything major, a slash on her cheek that had barely even bled, but it wasn't an isolated incident. First he'd denied it, then he'd let loose with all blatantly untrue excuses kids gave when they found they were suddenly in trouble. Stu Hopps, the girl's father and a man that the fox personally considered to be a smallminded idiot, had flipped his lid and run crying all over town. He'd even bought a can of fox repellent, on the chance that a vengeful canid might jump him while he walked down the street. It would serve him right if he managed to spray himself in the face with it. Cooler heads had eventually prevailed and it had generally been agreed that, though unfortunate and requiring discipline, the whole affair was little more than childish hijinks. 'Just boys being boys' as Principal Snowfleece had put it. But it had led to quite a few stressful days in the Grey household, with a son that wouldn't admit the slightest bit of guilt and a mother who couldn't believe what her child had done. Now it was mostly behind them, what little it had been to begin with.
Just boys being boys, of course. But he knew where that led.
He recalled Adrian 'Loopy' von Lupe, his friend since grade school. They'd grown up together as almost the only canine kids in the district at the time. They'd formed a sort of gang with the three Greenfield kids known as Them (As in 'Oh, it's Them again.') Before he'd been gifted his current nickname he'd been known as 'the sheepdog' for hanging around a bunch of rams. And that had been fine, more or less. As boys they'd all been involved in the low-stakes warfare of adolescence; name-calling, pranks, occasional fights and whatnot, all in reasonably good fun. Then Loopy had started to take it seriously.
To this day he wasn't sure where his friend had picked it up, all the wolf talk about packs and alphas and dominance. But by the time he was fifteen years old his friend had changed. His 'jokes' were tinged with malice and insults, he picked fights with everyone and didn't stop when someone started crying. He began to spout nonsense about finding a pack and not 'hanging with herbs'. It wasn't long before neither the fox nor sheep were talking to him, and that seemed to be the way he liked it.
He'd been stupid, and a braggart and a tough guy, and all the other little labels for someone with more strength than sense. Then one day he'd got into a fight with a bunch of bunnies over some dumb words he'd said and he'd sent one of them to the hospital. Properly. There had been charges and he'd been taken away and when he'd come back a year and a half later it was just a few weeks before he'd ended up scuffling with his own family and getting sent right back. That time for good, or at least he'd never come back to Bunnyburrows.
He didn't know where Adrian was now, he didn't want to know. But he could feel the cold shadow of the past hanging over the present.
"Nice day, dontcha think?"
"Mmm."
"Been quite sunny lately. They reckon the harvest'll be pretty good this season."
"Pfff. Dumb bunny stuff."
Gabriel winced. He could tell where things were going, he could see the signs. He'd watched himself for them for years, in case he'd started to drift towards the same sort of nonsense. Which was possible given the kind of people you could run into, fox or bunny. But he'd never thought to keep an eye on his own son. And suddenly there he was, angry all the time beneath the surface, picking fights and talking as if the world could be neatly divided up based on how people looked. He'd been the first to notice, but increasingly other folk were picking up on it too. And that made things so very much worse. Especially after the latest incident they talked behind his back, amongst themselves, never to him. He didn't need to hear the words to know what was being said though, he could tell from their tone, their behavior, their looks.
The looks. The looks were the worst. They said 'We know what you are.' They said 'You're a terrible person.' They said 'This is all your fault.'
Because everyone, everyone knew about foxes. About canines. About predators. Oh certainly the times when the Burrows had been for bunnies only were long gone, at least on paper. Nobody drove anyone else out of town or stopped them getting certain jobs or insisted they never be allowed in the presence of children. And nobody would dare besmirch an entire species, out loud at any rate. But whenever something went wrong, oh yes, then the old words rose in people's minds.
Because there had to be a reason, obviously was a reason for his son's behavior. Oh it wasn't the kid's fault, not like preds were naturally violent, oh no. But the father... well he had to be doing something. He could feel the rumors sprouting and spreading even now, like weeds in a strawberry patch. The fox was violent. The fox was evil. The fox probably beat his own family. Nasty. Vicious. Stupid. Dangerous. Yes of course they could be good, but when something went wrong, there was always a fox to blame.
Their gazes made his skin itch now, whenever he went out. The strange silences made his ears ring and made the bile rise in his stomach until he felt like his spit could etch steel. But what could he do? Explain it wasn't like that? Who'd believe mere talk? Deck someone? Violence on his part would instantly set everyone's opinions. And doing nothing was out of the question. He was trapped and there was no way out, no way to fix things.
He glanced over at Gideon, who had barely moved since they'd set out. He used to like car trips, a lot of canines did. A chance to get out in the fresh air, wind the windows down and feel the sensation of (moderate) speed. They'd stop somewhere nice, have a few sandwiches, make a day out of doing nothing much at all. But now... now he didn't know how to talk to his own son. To say the things that needed to be said and solve the problems that needed fixing. A core part of his family was drifting away before his eyes and there was nothing he could do about it.
Still...
He still had the crumpled piece of paper that Snowfleece had given him, as a sort of aside. It held a name and phone number, of some head-shrinker lady out in Northburrows. Gabriel Grey had a very low opinion of people who spent all their time around books and didn't get their paws dirty. They tended to waffle on about all sorts of nonsense about things that were no use at all to anyone who worked the land for a living. But he was all out of options, he knew that without even having to try anything. Maybe her nonsense could crowd out the more dangerous stuff that had got into the boy's head. He had to hope.
"Well, I think that's far enough. You wanna stop for lunch or somethin'?"
"Nah."
"Alright then, guess we'll head back then."
"Mm."
There were clouds on the horizon, white slowly turning to gray. It was possible that the end of summer harvest would be marked with a week of . Hard to tell really, this early on. Storm or shine the dusty red car turned, carrying its cargo of two foxes forward to meet the future.
Beside him, in the passenger's seat, his son, Gideon, stared out at the passing farmland as if he'd heard it insult his mother. Just a few years ago he would have regarded the gently rolling landscape with the wide-eyed wonder of most pups, but now it seemed he had a different outlook on things and the elder Grey didn't like it one bit. It was part of a whole bunch of changes that worried him, and indeed the ride was ostensibly to relive some pressure after the events of the previous two weeks.
His son had attacked a schoolmate, a bunny, at the Carrot Day Fair. It hadn't been anything major, a slash on her cheek that had barely even bled, but it wasn't an isolated incident. First he'd denied it, then he'd let loose with all blatantly untrue excuses kids gave when they found they were suddenly in trouble. Stu Hopps, the girl's father and a man that the fox personally considered to be a smallminded idiot, had flipped his lid and run crying all over town. He'd even bought a can of fox repellent, on the chance that a vengeful canid might jump him while he walked down the street. It would serve him right if he managed to spray himself in the face with it. Cooler heads had eventually prevailed and it had generally been agreed that, though unfortunate and requiring discipline, the whole affair was little more than childish hijinks. 'Just boys being boys' as Principal Snowfleece had put it. But it had led to quite a few stressful days in the Grey household, with a son that wouldn't admit the slightest bit of guilt and a mother who couldn't believe what her child had done. Now it was mostly behind them, what little it had been to begin with.
Just boys being boys, of course. But he knew where that led.
He recalled Adrian 'Loopy' von Lupe, his friend since grade school. They'd grown up together as almost the only canine kids in the district at the time. They'd formed a sort of gang with the three Greenfield kids known as Them (As in 'Oh, it's Them again.') Before he'd been gifted his current nickname he'd been known as 'the sheepdog' for hanging around a bunch of rams. And that had been fine, more or less. As boys they'd all been involved in the low-stakes warfare of adolescence; name-calling, pranks, occasional fights and whatnot, all in reasonably good fun. Then Loopy had started to take it seriously.
To this day he wasn't sure where his friend had picked it up, all the wolf talk about packs and alphas and dominance. But by the time he was fifteen years old his friend had changed. His 'jokes' were tinged with malice and insults, he picked fights with everyone and didn't stop when someone started crying. He began to spout nonsense about finding a pack and not 'hanging with herbs'. It wasn't long before neither the fox nor sheep were talking to him, and that seemed to be the way he liked it.
He'd been stupid, and a braggart and a tough guy, and all the other little labels for someone with more strength than sense. Then one day he'd got into a fight with a bunch of bunnies over some dumb words he'd said and he'd sent one of them to the hospital. Properly. There had been charges and he'd been taken away and when he'd come back a year and a half later it was just a few weeks before he'd ended up scuffling with his own family and getting sent right back. That time for good, or at least he'd never come back to Bunnyburrows.
He didn't know where Adrian was now, he didn't want to know. But he could feel the cold shadow of the past hanging over the present.
"Nice day, dontcha think?"
"Mmm."
"Been quite sunny lately. They reckon the harvest'll be pretty good this season."
"Pfff. Dumb bunny stuff."
Gabriel winced. He could tell where things were going, he could see the signs. He'd watched himself for them for years, in case he'd started to drift towards the same sort of nonsense. Which was possible given the kind of people you could run into, fox or bunny. But he'd never thought to keep an eye on his own son. And suddenly there he was, angry all the time beneath the surface, picking fights and talking as if the world could be neatly divided up based on how people looked. He'd been the first to notice, but increasingly other folk were picking up on it too. And that made things so very much worse. Especially after the latest incident they talked behind his back, amongst themselves, never to him. He didn't need to hear the words to know what was being said though, he could tell from their tone, their behavior, their looks.
The looks. The looks were the worst. They said 'We know what you are.' They said 'You're a terrible person.' They said 'This is all your fault.'
Because everyone, everyone knew about foxes. About canines. About predators. Oh certainly the times when the Burrows had been for bunnies only were long gone, at least on paper. Nobody drove anyone else out of town or stopped them getting certain jobs or insisted they never be allowed in the presence of children. And nobody would dare besmirch an entire species, out loud at any rate. But whenever something went wrong, oh yes, then the old words rose in people's minds.
Because there had to be a reason, obviously was a reason for his son's behavior. Oh it wasn't the kid's fault, not like preds were naturally violent, oh no. But the father... well he had to be doing something. He could feel the rumors sprouting and spreading even now, like weeds in a strawberry patch. The fox was violent. The fox was evil. The fox probably beat his own family. Nasty. Vicious. Stupid. Dangerous. Yes of course they could be good, but when something went wrong, there was always a fox to blame.
Their gazes made his skin itch now, whenever he went out. The strange silences made his ears ring and made the bile rise in his stomach until he felt like his spit could etch steel. But what could he do? Explain it wasn't like that? Who'd believe mere talk? Deck someone? Violence on his part would instantly set everyone's opinions. And doing nothing was out of the question. He was trapped and there was no way out, no way to fix things.
He glanced over at Gideon, who had barely moved since they'd set out. He used to like car trips, a lot of canines did. A chance to get out in the fresh air, wind the windows down and feel the sensation of (moderate) speed. They'd stop somewhere nice, have a few sandwiches, make a day out of doing nothing much at all. But now... now he didn't know how to talk to his own son. To say the things that needed to be said and solve the problems that needed fixing. A core part of his family was drifting away before his eyes and there was nothing he could do about it.
Still...
He still had the crumpled piece of paper that Snowfleece had given him, as a sort of aside. It held a name and phone number, of some head-shrinker lady out in Northburrows. Gabriel Grey had a very low opinion of people who spent all their time around books and didn't get their paws dirty. They tended to waffle on about all sorts of nonsense about things that were no use at all to anyone who worked the land for a living. But he was all out of options, he knew that without even having to try anything. Maybe her nonsense could crowd out the more dangerous stuff that had got into the boy's head. He had to hope.
"Well, I think that's far enough. You wanna stop for lunch or somethin'?"
"Nah."
"Alright then, guess we'll head back then."
"Mm."
There were clouds on the horizon, white slowly turning to gray. It was possible that the end of summer harvest would be marked with a week of . Hard to tell really, this early on. Storm or shine the dusty red car turned, carrying its cargo of two foxes forward to meet the future.
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