Paws Chase Murder Case ✓| bxb, police drama, urban fantasy

1: "Just like Papa"

Little Scotch was running, full throttle, down on all fours like his fox counterpart. He gripped the soil with his front claws and propelled himself forward. Twigs from bushes caught on his fur and his khaki shorts. Wind whipped across his face. Huffing, his eyes dilated as he became like a wild beast sprinting through the forest.

"Woo!" he shouted, letting his still-squeaky voice carry on the wind, startling wild game. He laughed at the scared fowl and swiveled at a corner, kicking a tree on his way. Crashing through undergrowth, upsetting mice, squirrels, and other animals, he pretended he was the wind. And he was like the wind. Scotch was the fastest Sarvai in his villagetown. The Chief even admitted no one else was as fast as little Scotch.

No, he never let his height bother him. He was the wind, and no one could beat the wind. Pride swelling in his chest, he imagined the one thing that made him become faster—catching a criminal like his policeman father. You had to be fast and you had to be quick in your head, too. Scotch knew he had both of those things down. One day he was going to be the fastest, quickest-thinking, best policeman ever!

"Scotchie!" his friend Mason called, running on his two hind legs that carried his chonky body and being as slow as ever. "Ya too fast for me, Scotchie. Slow down!"

"Wait up, Scotchie!" Dex called. He was even further behind.

"Ain't nothing's gonna slow me down!" Scotch hollered over his shoulder and pelted off again.

"Scotch!" his mother called. "Where in the name of Twigdrunken Forest did ya run off to now!"

His ears flattened against his head at the sound of his mother's screeching voice, bothering him again in his moment of seeing himself as a hero. He tried to ignore her, but she screeched his name out again, and this time with a threat.

"Scotchie boy! If ya don't come home right now, I swear imma gonna put nulberries in your soup!"

"Nulberries!" Scotch cried out in horror. They were the 'most bitterest' of all berries that grew in Marmaglaid and the taste would stay on your tongue for two whole days.

"See ya later, Mason, Dex." Scotch pelted back to the open field.

"Yeah! Later!" Mason called behind him.

"Can't wait to see your Captain Pa t'night!" Dex called.

Scotch's chest swelled with pride. Last week they had gotten news that his father, a police officer, was being promoted to captain and this evening was the villagetown's ceremony for him. The full title was 'Captain Bran Borrecki of Cataloogy Police' and to Scotch, it had the nicest ring anything could ever have. It was going to be a big celebration but the best part of it all was his father was coming home after being away for two whole months.

When Scotch burst out of the forest, large orange arms were already poised to grab him. "Mama!" He complained and struggled against his mother who carried him to back of the house and plunked him into the tub. Yanking off his khaki shorts, she doused him in cold water before he could think of escaping.

"Ah-choo!" He sneezed. "Mama! I'm fine!"

"Ain't nobody's fine, little Scotchie." His mother brandished the hard-bristle brush he hated. "Ya remember today's your papa's promotion ceremony? He's gonna be back not to his boy who looks like he'd been wild game in the forest."

Scotch flicked his head and let water spray everywhere. "I wasn't wild game in the forest, Mama. I was the wind and I was the fastest! And ya know what else, Mama? I'm gonna tell Papa that when I get big like him, I will catch a crim—"

His mother stuffed her big red-orange fluffy, dusty tail into his face. "Close your mouth or eat soap for supper," she ordered, and he closed his mouth shut tight and squeezed his eyes closed while she lathered him up roughly. "Ain't no one's going to the Turnaround. They gonna beat ya up down there. Your Papa's an exception because he's lived there and knows where things're at."