The Fire Triangle -- Part II, Oxidizer

The Fire Triangle: Book II - Chapter 48

The wolf rolled his eyes for a second and then looked at him. He seemed almost disappointed.

But...where had his tunic gone? Now he was wearing a hooded cloak. And what was it made of, oilcloth?

"Ohhh, you think I'm THAT animal? Well, I suppose it's understandable, considering, but..."

He reached into his cloak and pulled out...not his hammer, but another sickle, at the same time drawing himself up to his full height. Holy foxtrot, this dude was HUGE.

"You know, boy," he was scratching at his cheek with the tip of one implement, "someone once said that 'with strange eons, even I may die.' Mmmmm, who knows? But, whatever, let me tell you something that isn't going to happen..." Without warning, he leaned swiftly across the bed, getting right in the terrified young silver-fox's face. At this distance, Conor could make out every single one of his teeth; pearly and translucent, with edges like daggers.

But why couldn't he feel the heat of the big wolf's breath-or even smell...?

"I am not, repeat, NOT going to die and leave you boss!" His snarl was like something from a deep, dark well.

"Wha...? " Conor gasped and tried to push away again. "Wh-What the heck are you talking about?"

With hard, unflinching eyes, his visitor stepped back from the bed, face suffused by a look of pure contempt.

"Ohhh, I think you know, boy." Tossing one of his sickles onto the floor, he gestured towards it with the other one. "Pick it up."

"What? No way!" Conor didn't even want to touch that thing...and anyway, they'd have to get him out of bed first, and.... Wait a second, he was already out of bed-crouched on the floor in a three-pointer; when the heck had that happened?

"I said...pick...it...UP!" The wolf showed his fangs as he spoke.

Conor looked at the sickle...and then at him.

"Nuh-uh, no wa-waaaaa, what the foxtrot?"

The wolf was gone; standing in his place was a young coyote...another animal easily recognized.

...Craig Guilford!

"Come on, boy. I thought you wanted to get some payback for your friend...don't you? Well, here I am; come and take it." It was Craig, but he was speaking in the wolf's voice. Perhaps that was why the fearful young silver fox was unable to make a move.

Or maybe it was something else.

"What's the matter, son?" the wolf-yote taunted, flashing a toothy smirk "Afraid you'll get a boo-boo? Here, let me make it easy for you," By way of explanation, he hurled his other sickle away. Conor watched as it sailed off into the void and was gone. "There, I'm unarmed." his adversary growled, flipping upturned fingers in the traditional martial arts challenge, "Now get over here and finish what you started."

Unable to resist, the young silver fox turned his eyes towards the object on the floor...oh, so sharp and gleaming.

"You do, and I'll never speak to you again!"

"Huh?"

Conor looked again and saw that Craig was gone. In his place was Erin Hopps.

She was there for only a second, before she dissolved into an ethereal cloud-a cloud that expanded and got bigger and bigger, at last coalescing into someone that the fugitive young silver fox knew only from a picture on his laptop. Her expression was tender-and also heartbroken.

When she spoke, it wasn't in the wolf's voice, but her own. "This isn't you, kid...because if it is, you're not my son!"

Before Conor could even begin to think, the figure changed again.