Predator and Trickster

The crisp autumn air of provincial Japan usually smelled of woodsmoke and dried leaves. Now, it just smelled like stale takeout and regret.

Inside a cramped apartment, a tangle of orange fur stirred beneath a heavy duvet. Vixy, the fox, lay curled in a ball. The floor was a graveyard of empty soda cans and discarded snack wrappers. Sunlight filtered through the blinds, mocking her.

How did I get here? she thought, her eyes stinging. Why can’t I just tell her?

In her head, the words were perfect. In reality, they were trapped behind a lifetime of bad jokes and sarcasm.

The Game of Tag

It had always been their "thing." Vixy would tease, poke, and prod; Freya, the wolf, would growl and give chase. It was a dance of predator and trickster, a high-stakes game of tag that kept Vixy’s heart racing.

But Vixy had forgotten the golden rule of the hunt: Even the most patient predator eventually stops chasing a ghost.

The breaking point happened on a Tuesday. Vixy saw Cat Girl sitting at a cafe and felt that familiar, toxic itch to stir the pot. She glanced at Freya, who was standing nearby, then leaned in close to the stranger.

"Hey, girl," Vixy purred, her tail swaying provocatively. "I just wanted to say... you are really cute."

Cat Girl blushed a deep crimson. "Oh! Um, thank you?"

"Meow, am I right?" Vixy let out a sharp, mocking laugh. Cat Girl giggled nervously.

Vixy turned her head, locking eyes with Freya. She flashed a sharp, triumphant fox-grin, waiting for the wolf to snap, to growl, to claim her.

But Freya didn’t snap. She stood perfectly still. Her voice was a low, terrifying whisper.

"You think it’s funny," Freya said, her eyes cold as a winter moon. "When I look at you like I want to kill you. You think my jealousy is just another toy for you to play with."

Vixy’s smile faltered. She walked toward Freya, reaching out. "Ha! Baby, come on. It was just a joke."

Freya stepped back, her expression hardening. "Don’t. I don't want to see you ever again. Don't call me. Don't text me. We’re done."

"Hey, what’s wrong?" Vixy’s voice went up an octave. "You never act like this!"

"Because of you, Vixy!" Freya’s voice broke, tears finally spilling over. "It’s always because of you!"

The wolf turned and ran. A long, mournful howl Awhoooo! echoed through the autumn trees, leaving the fox standing alone in the cold.

The Silence

Days bled into a gray blur.

Day 3: Vixy checked her phone at the store. No notifications. "Ugh, she still hasn't texted me. She’ll cave soon."

Day 7: Freya sat on the edge of her bed, staring at a blank chat screen. No messages. "I guess... I guess that’s really it then."

Depression settled over Vixy like a heavy fog. Wake up. Brush teeth. Shower. Stare at the wall. Repeat. For the first time, the fox realized the terrifying truth: Wolves don’t play chase forever. She wondered, staring at her messy room, who had really been the one doing the hunting.

The Confession

Desperation drove Vixy to a local bar. She drank until the room tilted, her grief turning into a messy, stinging courage.

A dog girl approached her, leaning against the bar. "Hey, foxy. Why you all alone?"

"Leave," Vixy hissed, her eyes welling up. "I have a girlfriend... I think." She burst into a messy sob right there on the table.

"What in the world... crazy freak," the dog girl muttered, walking away.

Vixy grabbed her phone. I have to tell her. She sent a text: I’m coming over. I have to say something.

She stumbled to Freya’s porch and rang the bell. Silence. She rang again. Nothing. Exhaustion took over; Vixy sat by the door, her head down, falling into a drunken sleep.

Inside, Freya woke to the buzz of her phone. She saw the message and her heart plummeted. "Dang it, no!" She raced to the door, worried sick.

She swung the door open, looking out into the night, then looked down. There was Vixy small, shivering, and smelling of whiskey.

"Vixy? Wake up! Come in. Are you drunk?"

Vixy’s eyes fluttered open. She saw the wolf and immediately lunged forward, throwing her arms around Freya’s neck. "Heyyy..."

"Okay, okay, go ahead," Freya sighed, though she didn't push her away. "What did you have to say?"

The words finally broke through the dam.

"I’m truly sorry," Vixy sobbed. "I miss you. I’ve been horrible to you. I just want to say... I-I... I love you! I don't know what I'd do without you. I’m in love with you, Freya. Please... be my girlfriend again."

Freya started crying heavily, the weight of the last few days finally lifting.

"Are you okay?" Vixy asked, her voice small.

Instead of answering, Freya leaned in and kissed her a hard, desperate kiss. When they pulled apart, Vixy whispered, "I guess this means yes?"

They kissed again, and Freya let out a watery laugh. "That was all I ever wanted to hear."

The trickster had finally run out of jokes, and the predator had finally stopped running.

The End!

By:Vaehsnarrative