Unsung

Chapter Seventy-Five

All three heads turned in my direction at once, and I noticed for the first time that the men were wearing masks.

Fox masks.

For a few moments I just stood and stared, trying to reconcile what I was seeing. The top half of the disguises burned a fiery red-orange color, while the bottoms were pure white, as if they'd been dipped in snow. The animal's snout displayed a ghoulish grin that curved up toward glowing yellow eyes.

Eyes that were now trained on me.

Garrick began to struggle and managed to jerk his head free. "Kida, run!" he yelled before the white glove clamped back over his face.

I took a staggering step backward, my adrenaline kicking in without me even noticing it. But then I stopped short.

No. I wasn't going to leave him.

I took a step toward them then. And then another. And before I knew it, I'd begun to run. Full force at the guys who were attacking my friend.

"Let him go!" I screamed as loudly as I could, hoping that somebody nearby would hear us and come to help. The idea wasn't too outlandish considering we were right outside a campus full of students trained in self-defense. But in case we were on our own, I braced myself for the impending fight.

Only one of the masked foxes saw me before I reached them, allowing for me to blindside the closest one, landing a crushing blow to the side of his head. I'd aimed for the space just below the masks pointy ears and felt my closed fist connect with the person's temple underneath. The guy let out a groan and released his grip on Garrick in order to cradle his own head. As he bent over in agony, I reached forward and gripped his shoulders, bringing his face down into my knee as hard as I could. There was a loud cracking sound and then blood began to pour out the bottom of the mask, tinting the neck of the mask red as if the animal's throat had been cut.

With the guy effectively incapacitated, I turned to the two that were still left and saw that Garrick seemed to have gained a handle on things already. Sidestepping a punch from fox number one, he threw his own jab, nearly knocking the guy's mask clean off. Momentarily blinded, the fox tripped over his own feet and slammed hard into the wall behind him.

I waited to see if he'd get back up.

He didn't.

The last fox standing paused, seeming to weigh his options. Just when I thought he was going to go after Garrick again, he changed directions and ran over to his fallen comrades, pulling them to their feet clumsily. Then the three took off down the street, looking back once to make sure we weren't following.

I closed the gap between Garrick and me, rushing into his arms and hugging him tightly.

"Are you okay?" I asked, anxiously, looking him over for wounds like he'd done to me earlier.

His hair was disheveled and there was blood dripping from a cut above his left eyebrow, but other than that, he appeared mostly intact. I tugged at the hem of my sleeve and lifted it to his face to wipe away the blood. The gash underneath brimmed red almost immediately, so I pulled my long-sleeve shirt over my head and balled it up. Pressing it against the wound firmly, I searched his face for a sign that he was actually more injured than I thought.

"What was that?" he asked, looking over my head in the direction of where the attackers had fled.

"I don't know," I answered distractedly, too concerned to give it much thought at the moment. "This cut is pretty bad, Garrick. We need to get you to a hospital."

"I'll be fine," he said, taking a step away from me. "I just need a band-aid."

As soon as my shirt left his head, the blood began to drip down his face until he had to close his eye to keep the liquid from falling into it. With a sigh he accepted the shirt that I was still holding out to him and pressed it against his brow unhappily.

"We don't have insurance and my dad will be pissed if I run up any more bills," he admitted. "It'll cut into his beer money."

"Comeon," I said, taking a hold of his hand and gently leading him in the directionof my car. "I know where we can go."