1The Escape

    Pad, pad, drip. Pad, pad, drip. The blood splashed crimson on the leaves and under brush as he moved silently along. His ragged breathing the only sound to betray his stealth. The majority of his wounds ceased bleeding, caked with dried blood save his midsection, the worst, still bleeding wound. .

    Pain racking his body from a dozen small and one major wound, fatigue threatening to bring him low, he knows he can’t stop yet. He know that to stop and rest would certainly bathe him in the numbing, peaceful blanket of sleep and probably death, that great equalizer of men and kings. His muscles screamed at him, well past their limit, begging for respite, only obeying his demand to move because to stop would mean certain death!

    ‘I can’t stop!’ He thinks, to keep his mind clear. ‘I must run… I… wonder which part of me feels that.’ His mind wanders a little, taking his concentration from the pain. An odd, wry smile forms on his strange maw, showing one of his sharp canines.

    ‘Is it my human common sense, logic and rationality?’ he begins to wax philosophically ‘I am being hunted after all… I think… or is it my vulpine instincts. So used to the chase… the hunt… but so is my other side. I was made,  genes up, as pray... but also as a hunter. I’m always going to feel like I'm being chased, hunted and in danger…. But this time I KNOW it’s real’ at that moment his gut wound stung him, reassuring that he is indeed in danger, and hunted.

    His ears pick up a noise. A distinct unnatural sound. Rustling in the bushes that wasn’t him. He stops cold… The long blue long ears shooting straight up, listening for the slightest sound of a butterfly’s wings. Then he hears it… ‘breathing!’ He realizes ‘Hard labored breathing of a healthy man, who was simply winded… not wounded… a hunter!’

    ‘Damn’ he thought, ‘I didn’t think there were any this far out from the lab. Yet…’ silently inhaling deep, he smells the hunter…’new… he smells new!’ A feral grin formed on his stubbed vulpine muzzle. ‘He must be a hired mercenary, not one of the usual hunters the lab uses… they must be desperate! I wonder what cover story they told him.’ He ponders, ‘These thugs for hire are never told anything resembling the truth. I must be much farther out than I thought if they’re sending his kind out after me. I must be completely quiet, his kind are usually more trigger happy than the trained hunters'. He concludes, knowing that they are also less adept at spotting stealth as well, ‘Finally, and advantage’

    He waits two heartbeats, and then decides this one will become HIS prey. Before he can act he hears “Base? This is Zed Zed Zero niner. I don’t see any sign of this guy! How far can some four-eyed nerd get in this forest anyway? Can I come back now?” the hunter asks into his radio. “besides, it’s late, my feet hurt, and I’m sure there’s no way some poindexter could have made it out to where I am!”

    ‘So that’s the cover story’ He thinks “I’m some rogue scientist. Heh it’s almost enough to laugh at.’ His grin widening, his fangs glinting momentarily in the cloudy moonlight. ‘However, I’ll take all the luck I can get. He’ll never expect me to be able to out maneuver him.’ A plan begins to form in his mind. 'I smell.... FEAR on him. So he’s obviously not ex-military or police. That means he’s just some weekend warrior who shoots cans with an uzi …. Perfect! Easy prey!’ His vulpine side beginning to assert itself. He no longer sees a hunter… he sees prey. Someone he can take down and get needed supplies from. Medical supplies, food, ammunition…

    The adrenaline builds in his system. The anticipation of the hunt causing his body to pump the miracle substance into his system, giving him strength, speed, pinpoint focus. The pain and the rest of the world, falling away into a blurry, unrecognizable haze for the moment. His entire universe has become this one chump, and it’s take down.

    He waits another heartbeat. Standing no more than 2 meters away, covered in darkness by the cloudy night. ’Thank the goddess for that’ he thinks randomly. ‘The moon has been not only my companion, but my ally tonight’ he muses. Then the radio squawks in the ear of the hunter…”OK Zed Zed Zero Niner, you are clear to go home. Have a nice weekend and PLEASE... try not to get lost THIS time? Last time it took us nearly a week to find you!” ‘So… he has a history… this is too perfect. Thank the moon goddess!’ He revels, preparing for the kill.

    “Well YEE HAW!” the Hunter returns into the radio, alerting all the wildlife within a 3 miles. ‘Great… a redneck… I love these guys’ He thinks sardonically. “thank you sir, Ah promise not tah be a problem fer yew! Ah promise to git yew some of dah deer ah katch!” he adds.

    ‘So… you’re looking for a hunt are you? Perfect! Because so am I!’ he thinks… a very feral look crossing his face in the moonlight for just a moment before it’s gone, hidden by shadows, as the moon hides behind the clouds. ’Tonight… you’re the prey…MY prey.’ His teeth bear at this thought ‘you’re logged out… you have a history… no one is going to miss you.’ he readies himself to strike, ‘Don’t worry’ he thinks, feral in his demeanor ‘I won’t kill you… Much. But I NEED those supplies you have’

    He moves quickly, noiselessly. Before the time the prey realizes what’s going on it’s all over. The hunter's first move is to press the safety on the gun, rendering it useless, while his other paw unplugs the headset for the radio, at the belt. Finally he spins around, behind the prey, bringing the back of his fist to the back of his prey’s head, rendering him unconscious before he even knows what’s going on. In the space of one second, it’s over. Quick, neat, clean… just as he was taught… and programmed. He'd executed this same maneuver hundreds of times... he hardly even had to think about executing it before it was done.

Then his paw then grips the hair on the back of the human’s head and pulls viciously, presenting the unconscious man’s throat. The hunter goes in for the kill, the adrenaline giving his feral side control over ration for a moment, his jaws open, fangs ready to rip apart this man’s esophagus and eat his flesh when he stops, the human’s throat half surrounded by the eager jaws. “no…” he says quietly after pulling his mouth away. “No… I won’t kill you… i’m no animal, the Human, Fox, rabbit hybrid says without irony on his face.

    His mind began to wander, remembering his past. He was created for assassin’s work. He was “turned on” initially for a few days to look at his personality profile… but his “father’ had taken a liking to him. He took him on as his pet… no… it WAS more than that. The scientist saw him as his son. He knew this human loved him. The others saw him as a curiosity, so they trained him, taught him, kept him alive beyond what should have been. He WAS technically a failure, but 'father' had protected him…. He should have been terminated long ago… that line of thinking was pushed back into the small metal box in his mind…. He didn’t have time to think about that. The ramifications… any of it. He had to SURVIVE! Not only was that programmed into him…. Taught to him, but every piece of DNA in his body SCREAMED for him to survive! They had done, perhaps, too good a job in creating him. Too much of his DNA was prey that knew how to run and survive.

    Shaking his head from the reverie, he moves quickly, stripping the hunter of his weapons and survival vest. The survival vest and belt of a hunter was a small drug store in it’s own right. It contained medicines, food, and other supplies needed to survive for a month, if stretched. It also contained ammunition and batteries. First things first, he tied up the hunter to a tree. He placed the hunting knife deep into the ground. He knew that it would be fine for a few hours, after that the dirt would start to eat away at the blade, dulling it, weakening the metal. If somehow this “hunter” didn’t manage to get out in a day, the knife would be useless for hunting. in two it wouldn't even cut the rope.

    He dismantles the gun, leaving all the pieces and 5 bullets on the ground, again point down. If this ‘hunter’ is too slow it will all be made worthless by mother Gaia. The vest contained the tie wraps needed to secure the feet and wrists of the prey - which is how he thinks of this human. HIS prey, his to kill, eat, or set free.

    He understood how foolish it was to be giving an opponent a chance to follow up and kill him…. But he would take that chance. He wasn’t like HIM… he would give this one the fair, fighting chance that was denied him. He wasn’t an animal to be ruled over by instinct.. HE WASN’T! He considered denying even the parts of the gun to this imbecile… but he’s not going to leave a man to die without a fighting chance… that’s something HE would do! Besides… guns are nothing but heavy clubs without bullets. And 5 is few enough that the hunter will have to use them sparingly, in case a bear gets hungry for human flesh… ‘a delicacy, the local animal say.’ he recalls.

    After collecting the vest and gear he needed he turns and looks to the helpless human, the prey, and scoffs speaking again. His voice is deep and rumbling, “I’m leaving you with a better chance of survival than I was given. If you are even half capable as a hunter, which I doubt you are, you will be free 10 minutes after you regain consciousness, as it’s looking to rain, that should be no more than an hour. If you are wise you will go home and forget you were defeated by me. No one will ever know. If you aren’t any good at escaping your bonds however…” He raises his paws, palm up and shrugs, as he walks away disappearing into the brush “who am I to question mother Gaia?” he adds fatally.

    About half an hour later, he stopped to apply basic first aid to his wounds. He didn't hear or see any more signs of pursuit. Regardless he had to treat the pain, and eat.

    As he had hoped, in the vest was a razor for shaving. He first applied antiseptic to his largest wound, inhaling sharply trying not to scream as the peroxide worked it’s magic, destroying the bacteria that were trying to enter the wound. Next he shaved off the fur around the wound. After that, despite the pain of the maneuver, he leans down and licks at his wound, dozens of tiny medical nanites rush into the wound to attempt to repair the damage. Finally, he sprayed the wound closed with liquid skin before applying wrapping a bandage around his waist to keep debris away from the wound.

Next priority was for him to triage his other wounds. Normally he could ignore the small cuts, but they weren’t closing up. However they weren’t currently bleeding either. He licked the wounds he could reach and prayed the ones he couldn’t could be ignored. He then cleansed and wrapped up the wounds that insisted on bleeding, rationing his precious sterile bandaging until it and the spray skin were gone, but he was patched up. He could heal given time and a safe place.

    However he wasn’t safe and decided that he had to keep moving. He wasn’t hungry, he was tired. He could feed hunger, he could only feed exhaustion with sleep, and that was a commodity he did not have to spare right now.

    Ninety minutes later he was well and truly lost, deep in the woods. His exhaustion rapidly approaching the point the could no longer will himself awake. His adrenaline spent, his reserves long since gone, the caffeine pills from the vest ineffective. He has no choice but to stop at a small pond, it’s still waters reflecting the beautiful full moon perfectly.

Looking into the refection of the moon he recalls what the local animals told him in his travels, about a moon princess who is responsible for the night. Her older sister is responsible for the day. Well he certainly could not doubt the moon had worked with him tonight. It hid behind clouds when he needed darkness, and shown brightly to light his way safely to this pond.

    He then looked into the reflection of the moon, and recited a prayer the animals told him. They said it was best to look at the reflection and not directly at the moon, if he wanted the princess of the moon to hear him… “O goddess of the moon. I thank you for looking over me, and I pray for your continued benevolence. Please protect me,” tears began to form in his eyes from the desperation of survival. He was at his absolute limit. “hide me away from the humans who chase me so they may never lay harm upon me again…” and with that, the last of his reserves leaves him. Before Morpheus, the keeper of dreams, brother to death claimed him, the blue one gasped one last utterance... the end of his prayer, “help me O Luna to escape” He falls, face first onto the soft grassy ground. His paw, still drenched in his own blood falls, his finger tip just disturbing the water where the moon was reflected. His blood coloring the water, and this the moon, red. Luna looked upon him... the toll had been paid.

    Unlike so many other times, for so many other creatures, this time the prayer was heard. She had in fact been following him this night, and for many many nights before. She found him a curiosity. An animal no doubt, and thus it was within her right to interfere. However he was also intelligent like a human. She knew her sister might protest what she was about to do…. But so what? Equestria could use some chaos now and then, and THIS ONE would certainly do that. Too much peace, perfection, and prosperity was boring and caused stagnation.

    She did not see any danger in his heart. He needed a home, and that longing pulled at her heart. His prayer... his honest and heartfelt prayer to her, the loophole he had just given her, and this one night where the walls of reality were weakest... she could grant his wish. She would not be strong enough to return to her home for some moons yet… but she could bring this one home. Just this once, she would think of another, and help that other for one of the few times in her existence. Princess Luna felt a bond with this poor creature she did not understand.

    She knew she was doing this for the right reasons. Besides... the toll had been paid, the words spoken, and the heart... what was left of it... was true and pure. It was not unheard of for an outsider... a two legs... to be brought across. At least… that’s what she’d tell her sister if the topic ever came up.