Fear and Desire
 

Part 3: You Know Who Your Friends Are

Nick continued to stride back and forth across the front lawn, mumbling incoherently as he struggled to comprehend Sam's words. He kept on replaying the same thought over and over again within his mind. His best friend of fifteen years, the fox he'd grown up with, was gay.
Sam meanwhile remained sat upon the front step, still hiding himself away behind his paws. He didn't dare to look up, to react. Instead he stayed silent, hoping and praying that his friend could come to terms with and accept his sexuality.
It took a few minutes, but the tall wolf managed to calm himself and cease his aimless march around the garden, stopping a few feet away from the porch steps.
He turned and looked down into anxious vulpine's eyes, trying to find his words. “I... I didn't see this coming.” Nick's voice was barely a whisper, shock clear within it.
“L-look, I'm still the same person I was five minutes ago, the same person I've always been,” Sam whined. “Nothings changed.”
“Are you? Hasn't it? I... I don't know.”

The lupine slowly shuffled over to the stoop and sat back down, much further away from his friend this time and without eye contact. “I just can't believe it. You're... a gay.”
“Nick, come on!” the red fox groaned, “why do you think I never notice the girls you point out? Why you think I've never had a girlfriend, or even tried to make the first move on a girl!?”
“I dunno,” the wolf shrugged. “I never really thought much about it.”
“Really? Not at all?”
“Well, I've seen plenty girls come over to you, but you've never got their number. Just figured you were proper shite with the ladies.”
Sam smiled slightly. “No, it's 'cos I'd tell them I'm ain't interested, or do something to scare them off when you, or anyone else I knew wasn't about.”
“That makes sense, I guess. It's about the only thing that does though.” Nick sighed, running his paws through his headfur anxiously before continuing on. “I mean I've never met a gay who wasn't camper than a row of pink tents, y'know.”
“Don't be daft!” the fox chided.
“What!?”
“How do you know? How could you possibly know? I mean they... we don't wear big badges that say 'Hey there, I'm gay!' on them. There's plenty of us that you'd never know were that way, unless you asked.”
The large lupine finally turned his head, looking down into Sam's eyes with an uncertain expression. “I guess.”
“Well, I'm proof of that, surely!?”

The tension was almost tangible as the pair sat silently for a few moments. Neither knew what else to say or to do as they each fidgeted awkwardly next to each other.
“Remember that Tina, the grey Husky from 'J-Bar'?” the little vulpine spoke abruptly, trying to ease the situation.
“Tina?” Nick replied with a confused look, the question hitting him from left-field. “Oh Tina, yeah! From a couple months back right? Looked a bit like the front end of a bus.”
“Eh!? What you on about?”
“Naa, look, 'cos she smiled like this.” The wolf chuckled as he pulled his lips back with his paws, widening his grin comically before releasing. “'ad a mouth like a bloody radiator grill she did.”
“No she didn't! Did she?”
“Straight up! Christ, at one point she turned and the light hit her teeth. I couldn't see properly for days!”
“Harsh!” Sam answered with a laugh. “Well, you remember how she stormed off in a strop?”
Nick's eyes narrowed as he thought, trying hard to recall the evening in question. “I think... yeah, yeah I do! You managed to dump a drink all down her top.”
“Right, well. She was coming onto me hard, all touchy-feely, wasn't takin' no for an answer. Had to get her to back off in the end.”
The lupine sat with a blank expression on his face, not taking the cue to respond.
The fox motioned with a paw, as if to emphasise his point. “D'ya get what I'm saying?”
“So?” Nick looked around, puzzled, “She managed to spill it by coming onto you?”
Sam sighed, “No, no she...” A smirk emerged upon his muzzle, “I spilt it on her, on purpose, to get rid.”
“To scare her off, like you said.”
“Right yes! Becau--”
“Because you're gay,” the black wolf spoke bluntly, his cheery mood short lived as his focus returned to the present. “Why you telling me this?”
“W-well, I...” The vulpine searched for an answer, nervously rubbing away at the fur on the back of his neck. “I don't bloody know! I just... I'm just trying to chat, have a laugh. To show you that things are normal between us, y'know?”
Nick looked away with a grumble, shielding his eyes with a thumb and index finger. The tension between the pair returned once more.

“Nick?” Sam desperately tried to break this latest stretch of silence. “Nick, come on.”
“So tell me Sam, what do we do now?”
“What you mean? You, we, we don't have to do anything!”
The fox began to get agitated. His 'coming out' wasn't going as well as he might have hoped. The lupine's comments and general demeanour upon hearing the news were far from reassuring.
Sam began to fear that he was dangerously close to losing his oldest and dearest friend. “I just wanna know that we're still mates, that's all. Even if I'm... I'm gay.”

“What the fuck!?” A voice barked aggressively from behind the pair.
The little vulpine turned around quickly, surprised. Unknown to him, Jim had quietly exited the party and joined the pair out on the porch.
“Oh crap,” he muffled, anxiously looking up at the Doberman standing at the front doorway.
“Did you say what I think you did?” the canine called out with a sharp tone, his rage thinly veiled as his gesticulating splashed the contents of his lager bottle across the floor. “You're a dirty little poof!?”
Sam's heart raced as he attempted to think up a way to respond. It was painfully obvious to him that Jim was in no mood for talking or reasoning with. He quickly stood up from his seat and moved down onto the garden path, an attempt to get distance between himself and the irate dog.
“Nick, did you know this!? That this fucker was a queer!?” the Doberman growled, casting an accusing finger at the retreating vulpine.
“Mate, Sam's just told me. I...I.” The scruffy-furred wolf stopped midway through his sentence with a shake of his head.
Sam began to panic, taken aback by the sheer anger that had erupted from the canine. He worked up what little courage he could to put together some kind of defence for himself. “Jim, I--”
“Not a word you dirty bastard,” Jim yelled, throwing his drink to the floor with a loud smash. He started down the steps towards the fox, pushing past the large lupine frame of Nick. “I can't bloody stand your sort!”
“M-my sort!?”
“Dirty tail-lifters! You all disgust me, every last one of ya!”

The front door opened as the Doberman finished. “Hey Jim! That blonde sort in there looks a bit tidy, gonna go for her number?” Ryan grinned cheerfully as he walked out onto the porch. This expression, however, soon turned to one of concern as it dawned on him that all was not well. “W-what's up lads? What's happened?”
“Oh Ry, perfect timing mate, you'll never guess what I've just found out about this little bastard here!” the Doberman replied with a snarl.
The Shep marched away from the door and down towards the garden. “Sammy? What about him!?”
“Our little red friend here is a filthy fuckin' queer!”
“You what!?” Ryan's eyes narrowed as he turned to the fox. “This true?”
“Ryan, I--”
“Straight up, he's just said so himself,” Jim confirmed, cutting Sam off.
The vulpine slowly shook his head in disbelief at the situation he found himself in. His 'coming out' to his best friend was rapidly heading from bad to worse.
“What you shaking your head at then!?” the black and tan canine asked furiously. “Ain't that what you just said? What, you gonna bloody deny it now!?”
Sam felt sick to his stomach, wishing for the ground to open up and swallow him. He toyed with the possibility of running away, but couldn't be sure of his ability to outpace the two athletic canines standing before him. The distressed fox turned meekly towards Nick, hoping for some kind of support from his friend. “Nick?”
The wolf remained sat upon the stoop, silently looking off into the distance.
“Do you feel the same way?” Sam added, louder this time.
Nick turned his head to look back, but didn't respond, his expression still one of shock and confusion.
It was at that moment Sam knew he was alone. He looked back to the enraged Doberman, still aiming a cold, piercing stare towards him. There was only one thing to do now, short of fleeing. “That's right Jim, I'm gay.”

“Yeah, makes complete fuckin' sense now,” Jim replied with venom, starting to move towards the little vulpine. “No wonder I've never seen you try it on with the bitches. I should have known you were a bender!” He shoved Sam hard in the chest as he reached him. “Bet you fancy me, don't ya!”
“Fuck you,” Sam snapped back as he stumbled backwards across the small yard.
“Yeah, dream on you little nonce!” the canine scowled as he followed after the retreating red fox. “Go on admit it, the only reason you hang around us, come watch our games, is because you like eyeing us all up.” He shoved Sam once more, harder. “Wanna see if you can sneak into the showers or somethin' I bet.”
“What!?” the vulpine choked. “Don't talk bollocks.”
“You dirty little perv.” Ryan added in disgust as he listened in, still positioned at the base of the porch stairway.
“Ry, listen,” the fox pleaded. “That's complete crap he's talkin' and you know it!”
“Is it!?” Jim quizzed. “Come on Ry, who you gonna believe, your captain, your friend? Or some little fuckin' fairy that's been lying his arse off by actin' straight!?” He slammed his open paw into Sam's face as he finished, shoving his head back viciously.
The vulpine recoiled and took a step forward in response. “Stop pushing me you twat!” he barked angrily, barging himself forcefully into the dark-furred canine's midriff.

A year's worth of pain and repression bottled up within Sam were all unleashed upon the unsuspecting Doberman. While the fox's short, slight stature was a complete mismatch with Jim's much taller, well-toned physique, he was a long way from caring by this point.
“I've always thought you were a dick-head, but fuck me, you've gone far beyond even my estimations!”
Jim grabbed the fox's shirt collar and pulled him in close. “Ooh, growin' a spine now, are we!?”
“Hey, what's this then?” Sam jeered back. “Want me close? Gonna kiss me are ya? Bit homo yerself maybe!?”
“W-what you say!? Keep dreaming!”
The vulpine grinned slyly as he picked up on the hesitation in the reply. “Oh sorry, bit close to home there was I? Bit confused? That why you chase after anythin' in a dress, trying to convince yourse--”
“Yeah go on, keep going,” the canine snarled as he wrapped a paw around the small fox's throat, squeezing firmly. “Keep going and I'll smash yer little fuckin' face in!”
“Go on then, tough guy.” Sam choked his words as the dog's grip on his neck tightened. “Sort me out.”

The vulpine's growing confidence and running mouth masked the lingering sense of dread rising steadily within him. After all, he was being man-handled by someone that could probably break him in two if they wished. He looked across to Nick once again, still hoping desperately for some kind of salvation.
The lupine grabbed at his blonde-highlighted headfur with a single handpaw, a genuine look of desperation on his face as he watched on.
“What!?” Jim sneered, a cocky smirk present upon his muzzle. “You think Nicky's gonna help!? Dream the fuck on, you're all on your lonesome 'ere!”
Nick shook his head as he stood up abruptly from the step. “Jim, come on that's enough. Let him go!”
“Do what!?” The wolf's protestation seemed to be enough to push the black-furred canine to breaking point. Jim proceeded to shove Sam angrily across the modest-sized garden, sending him stumbling and falling backwards towards the wall that lined it.
The fox let out a loud, pained yelp as his head slammed hard against the brickwork. Heavily stunned, he collapsed down into a vermilion heap on the lawn below.
The Doberman turned his attention to Nick, “so you a shirt-lifter too!? Your lot stick together I guess!” he roared, stomping his way towards the porch where the lupine was still standing.
“No... but he's...”
Jim drove himself chest-first into the wolf with a low, rumbling growl, leaving his muzzle almost touching Nick's chin. He looked up into the tall lupine's uncertain, yellow eyes with an intimidating stare. “Keep outta this, or I'll sort you out when I'm done with your bender pal, alright!?”
“Nicky, I'd keep it shut if I was you bruv,” Ryan interjected sternly. “If you wanna stay in this team anyway.”
The wolf's large ears lowered as he backed silently away apprehensively from his team-mates.
“Yeah, that's what I thought,” Jim spat assertively, turning to move back towards the crumpled vulpine figure resting against the garden wall.
Nick was deeply torn as he stood alone, still trying to make sense of the whole situation. He wanted to stop the confrontation and help Sam, but feared incurring the wrath of his two team-mates himself. The threat to his place in the team was also a concern. While Jim didn't have the authority to kick him out of the squad directly, he knew the Doberman would have no trouble 'convincing' him to quit through other means.

Other party goers had been drawn outside by the commotion by this point. Most however were just curious spectators, none of whom had any interest in getting involved, be that to stop or join the fight.
'Why am I wet?' Sam thought to himself, muddled, gently patting at a warm, moist area at the back of his head. As he pulled his paw to his face, he was greeted by a dark, sticky smear coating his pads. 'Blood!?'
In his dazed state, it took the fox a moment to get his bearings and realise how he'd sustained his injury. He turned to look back at the house, his vision filled by the canine form of his attacker stamping his way towards him. The wicked, snarling face staring back at Sam was enough to make his blood run cold and his fur stand on end.
“Damn, I wish the world would stop spinning and let me up,” he mumbled as he pushed himself as quickly as he could up onto his knees, desperately trying to get himself into a defensive position.
“Where you goin', eh? You ain't leavin' yet,” Jim growled as he neared the helpless vulpine. “I ain't even fuckin' started with you!”
The little fox leant an arm against the wall he'd been rammed into, hoping to use it as leverage to heave himself up to his feet with. His distress grew by the second as the sound of the Doberman's angry paces on the dry grass underfoot moved ever closer.

Before he could get himself fully upright, Sam was grabbed from behind and pulled away from the wall acting as his support. He groaned and staggered as he was spun around to meet the face of his assailant.
“Tryin' to act like you're normal to us all this time,” Jim grumbled, pulling the defenceless red vulpine close to him. “Then you run your gay little mouth at me? Gonna teach you a lesson you ain't gonna forget!”
“Oof,” Sam wheezed and lurched forward as a vicious slug struck him in the gut, forcing the air from his lungs. Before he could react, he was thrown violently back towards the front porch.
Despite his best efforts to stay upright, the fox lost his balance and fell awkwardly upon the concrete pathway, grazing his handpaws and cheek as he slammed down hard on its rough surface. “Stop! For fuck's sake!”
“I ain't stoppin',” Jim laughed wickedly as he closed in on the vulpine. “Not yet anyways.”

Still disoriented, Sam crawled hurriedly along the path in a futile attempt at escape, looking behind at the pursuing canine as he went. He maintained his scurrying until he met something solid in his path. The fox turned his head swiftly to investigate the unexpected obstruction, finding a pair of jeans-clad legs blocking his way. Instinctively, he began to clamber up the stranger's appendages, using them as a means to help himself find his feet.
Sam looked up towards the head of the mystery fur, their features silhouetted by the shine of the two garden lamps attached to the nearby porch's support pillars.
“Nick?” he mumbled hopefully. The outline of the tall figure towering above certainly did resemble that of the shaggy-furred lupine.
For a brief moment, the small vulpine felt relieved. He was sure that it was his friend he was clinging on to, on his way to stop the fight and to rescue him. That was at least, until the shadowed stranger raised a leg and planted a firm kick into his chest.
Sam fell back onto his rear with a thump. 'Oh God no, please!' he thought to himself. 'Not Nick too!?' He started to well up, but not through pain. Even the idea that his closest friend could do this, could turn against him, was not one that he could bear to contemplate.

“You tryin' to make this fun for us or what?” Jim chuckled as he grabbed hold of Sam beneath his armpits, pulling him aggressively up to stand.
From this angle, the glare of the lighting no longer restricted the vulpine's vision, enabling him to make out the identity of his second attacker.
“Cop a good feel, did we? If you've got claret on me new trainers, I won't be too happy 'bout it.”
Sam felt a chill down his spine as Ryan strolled away from the porch with a cocky swagger. “Hey Jim, I guess you were right mate. I swear down he was goin' for a feel of my cock.” The Shep huffed with annoyance as he looked down at the fox with a look of disgust. “You pervy little sod.”
Sam didn't know what was coming next, but Jim's tight grip on him meant that he stood little chance of getting away.
The Doberman looked to the brown canine, holding Sam's arms so that his mid-section was exposed. “Go on, hit him!”
“Me!?”
“Yeah, you. Go on, you hate poofs as much as me, don't ya?”
“Well, y-yea.”
“Then fuckin' hit him!” Jim ordered. “Or are you all bark and no bite?”
Ryan looked to the little fox's face, a look of fear upon it as he struggled to get free. “Smash him Ry, or I smash you. Understand!?”
This ultimatum was enough to push the Shep into action. He puffed out his cheeks and clenched a fist, following up with a short, stiff jab into the vulpine's face.
A trickle of blood started from Sam's nose as his head jolted back hard from the impact.
“See, knew you had it in ya,” the Doberman called out approvingly.
A smirk on Ryan's face widened as he watched the crimson stream begin to drip off of the fox's muzzle and form the start of a puddle on the ground.
“But don't you fucking hesitate next time!” Jim scolded, “not on the field and not anywhere else either, d'you get me!?”
“Y-yeah, sorry mate.”
Upon hearing the Shep's submissive reply, the black-furred canine felt a warm, comforting sensation resonate from within him. He truly revelled in the power and influence he held over his team-mates, as well as over Sam. Any order he barked, they would follow. If not, he'd ensure they suffered the consequences.

The fox was filled with a sense of dread as he looked towards the ever increasing number of furs gathering on the porch, some spilling down to the garden itself. It appeared that the guests were now far more interested in the excitement unfolding outside than the party itself.
Sam searched the massing crowd for Nick, finding him amongst the sea of strangers at the base of the porch steps. The wolf looked anguished as he stood there, motionless, looking on as events unfolded before him.
“Nick, help me, please! Christ!” came the distressed vulpine's plea as he struggled against his captor's grasp.
The large lupine did little more than shake his head, lifting a single paw to cover his eyes.
“Oh Nick, oh!” Jim mimicked disparagingly. “Oh save me!”
“Cold bruv,” Ryan snorted, “that's proper cold!”

It appeared that help wasn't coming for Sam, not even from his supposed best friend. 'Some mate he is,' he thought to himself. 'Guess in shit like this, you know who your friends are.' He began to fight harder, determined to break free and escape.
“What you tryin'? You daft little twat.” Jim laughed as he let go of the fox's arms and grabbed the back of his shirt collar, proceeding to shake him back and forth like a rag-doll. “Look at ya. Soft little gayboy like you ain't go no chance!”
It was no use, the small red vulpine just wasn't strong enough to resist. His distress at his predicament, the anger at Nick's betrayal, they carried on building steadily stronger within him as the dog continued to toy with him.

Sam looked up to Jim's face as he was jolted to and fro. His smug, self-satisfied expression was enough to make the fox's blood boil. He knew by now that he was all out of options. There was no way that he'd be able to reason with the canine, nor could he force himself from his grasp. 'Fucking bully, this'll wipe the smirk of yer damn face,' he thought to himself, taking a deep breath.
The Doberman's decision to release Sam's arms and hold him by his collar meant that the vulpine's upper body was no longer restricted from movement. With a sharp exhale, he spun around, swinging an arching right hook up towards Jim's head.
Despite the power behind the punch, his lack of accuracy meant that he was only able to catch the dog with a glancing blow to the left side of his brown jaw.
“Ooh, tryin' to touch me up now are we?” Jim jeered mockingly, barely fazed by the strike. “Wanna have another go, sweetheart?”
He threw again, this time a flailing left-pawed shot. The Doberman was ready for it this time however, coolly bobbing his head back to dodge. “Nope, again?”
Sam was spurred on by Jim's cruel arrogance and continued to hurl his fist after erratic fist. The ease with which the black canine was able to evade the blows matched the increasing desperation behind them, eventually reaching the point where he was merely mocking the fox.
“He fights like a queer too!” Ryan chuckled, applauding his friend's cocky display. “Come on Jimmy, get it done with. Just spark him out.”

Even though most of the bystanders gathered in the garden knew not the reason behind the fighting, a good number of them cheered the combatants on regardless, baying for more. The members of the football team present amongst the crowd were especially vocal in their support, encouraging their captain to carry on his dominant display over this 'upstart outsider'.
'What the hell is going on!?' Nick wondered to himself, attempting to make sense of events unfolding around him. His 'friends', his team-mates, they'd changed into people he didn't recognise within the space of just a few minutes. This, coupled with Sam's revelation, had turned his world upside-down.
Regardless of his fear and confusion, the wolf couldn't stand to see his two squad-mates picking an old friend apart. He stood up confidently, with a slight scowl. “Fuck's sake stop Jim, stop or i'll--”
“You'll what Nick!?” Jim snapped back. “What you gonna fucking do about it, eh!?”
“So you do still want to be mates with a poof.” Ryan added as he approached Nick purposefully. “Bit of a soft spot for him? Something you want to tell us?” He angrily shoved the wolf backwards. “You a tail-lifter too!?”
Nick jarred backwards into one of the porch pillars, almost shaking the structure as he rebounded off of it heavily. “What the hell's wrong with you guys?”
“What's wrong with us!? Could say the same to you!” Jim answered, distracted by the lupine's protestations.

Sam knew this was his best chance yet to get away. He looked up to the arrogant grin still present upon the the pointed face of the black canine, the same one he'd been unsuccessful in vanquishing upon his first attempt.
The little fox angrily wiped the smattering of crimson red away from his nose and clenched his paws into solid fists. He gathered all of his rage, all of his might and powered a right-pawed haymaker towards the side of Jim's muzzle.
A hateful, ear-splitting wail left the vulpine's mouth as his shot travelled straight and true, towards its target. A sickening crunch followed soon after as it connected, resonating loudly around the garden for all to hear.
The Doberman released Sam from his clutches as he tumbled down to the ground, hitting it with a considerable thump.
The onlooking spectators gasped in unison, partly from the gruesome sound, but mostly from the shock of seeing the dog struck down by his much smaller opponent.
Nick couldn't help but let out the slightest of smirks as he watched his captain come to rest on the lawn below, barely moving as the slender vulpine stood above him dominantly.
“Oh shit!” Ryan called out, dumbfounded. “Y-you okay mate?”
Jim remained prone on the ground, blood gushing from both nostrils. He rolled himself over uneasily and sat up, holding the side of his face where the blow connected. “The fuck was that!?”
Sam cringed in pain as he held the fist he'd thrown with his other paw. His strike was so hard that he'd managed to hurt himself in the process. The fox quickly got past his injury and looked down upon his attacker's bloodied face. 'My days, did I do that!?' he considered to himself with a wry smile, watching the canine wobble and weave as he attempted to gather his bearings.

Jim shook his head vigorously, attempting to clear it. “Right, I ain't pissin' about now,” he rumbled, jumping back up to stand with a surprising degree of stability.
“Oh God,” Sam muttered, his victory short-lived. The power-punch had only succeeded in dazing the Doberman for a short moment, a moment that had now passed him by.
“Come here you queer little bitch!” Jim raged, his anger even greater now than when he'd first overheard Sam announce his sexuality. “I'm gonna rip your fuckin' throat out!”
The little vulpine instinctively turned and bolted down the garden path, his legs carrying him as fast as they could. He knew he didn't have anything left to throw at the furious canine and that if he didn't escape now, he'd suffer the consequences.
“Oi!” Jim called as he darted off to give chase. “Oh no you don't!”
Sam was moving at such a pace and with such intensity, that he slammed hard into the iron gate at the bottom of the yard upon reaching it. He paid little regard to any injury he may have sustained in the collision, instead focusing on the rusty lock that was preventing his escape.
“Come on!” the fox cried out loud, his paws shaking with fear as they worked at the latch.
“Really think you gonna clock me one and bolt, yeah!?” the Doberman bellowed as he zeroed in on his target.
The trembling vulpine looked over his shoulder as Jim bounded towards him, causing his handpaws to tremor with even greater intensity as they continued their battle against the metalwork.
After what felt like an eternity to Sam, the lock finally relented, releasing its hold on the gate with a rusted squeal. He threw the iron blockade open, preparing himself to sprint off into the night and away from danger.
“Bastard!” came the cry as Jim swung his leg furiously towards the fleeing fox. The vicious kick swept Sam's legs from beneath him, sending him down to the firm, unforgiving stone path yet again.
The Doberman roared as he pinned the little fox down to the ground with one paw, before unleashing a wave of crushing, downward punches with the other. One strike to the vulpine's white-furred muzzle, followed by a second, then a third before a fourth and final blow landed viciously, smashing Sam's head down against the concrete as it recoiled, further adding to the force of impact.

“Get up!” Jim grunted, violently pulling his victim up to his feet.
“Argh! Get the fuck off me!” the vulpine slurred, struggling and kicking against his captor from within the canine's hold. The barrage of heavy shots he'd suffered had left him badly stunned once again, but still conscious enough of his whereabouts to put up some semblance of a fight.
“Think you can clock me and get away with it!?” the Doberman boomed, his voice echoing around the garden. He grabbed the back of Sam's head and pulled it downwards, swinging his knee firmly to meet it. “Have this!”
A flash of white sparked in the fox's eyes as he shot backwards though the air, hitting the ground with a crashing thud.
“Fuck you! Not so mouthy now, are ya!” Jim barked, looking down at the sprawled out body flat out on the floor below.

The canine's cruel words were muffled heavily in Sam's ringing ears as he lied semi-conscious on the lawn. He could feel the warm sensation of blood as it flowed freely from both his nose and mouth, matting his vermilion fur into a crimson mess as it spilt down his face and to the grass below.
'Get up, get up now.' a voice demanded as the little red fox stared up into the star-filled sky above. His dazed state meant that Sam was unable to tell if the words had come from someone in the yard, or from within his own head. Regardless, he felt it was good advice.
The battered vulpine groaned as he tried to sit up. In his stupor, even the smallest movement was a struggle, almost as if he was fighting through quicksand. His surroundings appeared as a blurred, distant haze that he just couldn't bring into focus, no matter how hard he tried.
Sam continued with all his might to try and lift himself, but he was just too disorientated to do it. With a long drawn-out sigh, he finally submitted to his condition and then to gravity, allowing his head to drop to the ground before slumping over onto his side.

“Sod this, you're all sick!” a female voice called from the crowd. “I've had enough, I'm callin' the bloody police!”
The laughing and cheering so noticeable at the beginning of the fight had all but died down by this stage. The odd dissenting voice could be heard from amongst the gathering as more and more of the onlookers appeared to be taking pity on Sam.
“Hey! Enough's enough, come on!”
“You've won mate, just leave it.”
Even a few of the football team present amongst the crowd were starting to feel uneasy with their captain's conduct, joining in with the vocal disagreement.
“Come on boss, this is too far.”
“Jim, look at him! This ain't right.”

Despite their growing discord, none of the onlookers appeared to actually want to physically intervene and bring the fight to an end.
“Jim, Jim! Did you hear her!?” Ryan called out. “Come on, Let's get the fuck out of 'ere before the old bill turn up!”
“Not yet,” Jim rumbled as he stood over the helpless fox. “I ain't finished with him.”
“Jim, for Christ's sake, look at him! He's 'ad enough!”
“I'll fucking tell you when he's had enough!” the short-furred canine erupted.
“Damn bruv, you've lost it!”
Ignoring Ryan's disapproval, Jim bent down and grabbed Sam's bushy tail in both paws. He yanked hard, lifting the defenceless vulpine up off of the ground.
The red fox yelped with pain as he dangled from the Doberman's grasp. He kicked and punched at his attacker, doing all he could to resist, but to no avail.
“Say goodnight.” Jim growled, freeing one of his handpaws and wrapping it into a fist. He wound his arm back, preparing a vicious final strike aimed towards the back of the diminutive vulpine's skull.

Sam feared the worst as he felt the dog move a paw away. He began whimper and whine as he resisted with even greater desperation, every ounce of his strength and will going into his flailing limbs as he fought for freedom.
'How did it come to this?' the fox asked to himself despairingly, battling against a grim and seemingly inevitable finale.
'Things always work out for the best Sam.' The words of his father echoed around the vulpine's head as he gently rocked to and fro. 'Trust me.'
“Wrong,” he mumbled. The conversation about outing himself to his friends Sam had with his Dad seemed a lifetime ago. The safety and warmth of his home where it took place felt a million miles from the dim, lonely yard he found himself being brutalised within.
“Please God, somebody. Help me!” he whined, dreading the strike to come.
'Trust me.'