"Run...Keep running...."
Fiery flames sprouted out of the treetops, its contours mingled with the fiery red of the setting sun. Giant torches were bundled together and set afire.
"I can't move..."
Pillars of thick black smoke tunneled into the clouds. Sizzling sparks spurred through the air. Smothering heat took over the crimson sky.
"Hold me. Keep going...We made it out..."
She barely looked up. She itched forward with all her might as he desperately waited. She stumbled and dropped to her knees. He speeded to her side and took her arm, wrapping it around his shoulders.
"We are so close. I can feel it..."
Somewhere in the distance a tree was lit in a brilliant glow. It crackled and grunted, and in a strainful holler it descended slowly into the sea of grey familiar figures - a landfill of lifeless charcoal, a graveyard of silenced cries. And by its side remained a few slender trees, their twigs and branches dangling out, their heads drooping from their trunks, their roots slipping from the ashes as they tottered on the thin line between life and death.
They scrambled on and on, rocking to and fro as they moved, intruded incessantly by the scorching scent of burnt carbon, deafened by the piercing shrieks of crackling wood.
Bursting out of the surging fire came a few recognizable figures. The moose, screeching at the top of his lungs, tramping over the incinerated cadavers of ferns and ramps, galloping frantically into the open fields. A bison tripped and fell headlong into a dry riverbed, lying at the spot lifelessly with patches of raw skin exposing on his torso. Squirrels and stoats sprinted at all directions, letting out intermittent shrieks as they waddled their way through the smoky fog. A drove of hares circled around the muddy meadows, their faces stricken with shock and terror, their ears shivering uncontrollably while their younglings cried for comfort. Voles of all size and shape sprang out of underground tunnels that led deep into the heart of the conflagration; some of them limping and barely alive, while others stopped by the exit to drag the carcasses of their hardly identifiable loved ones, clinging to them as they wept over their icy bodies.
"It ends...the world falls before our eyes."
She mumbled feebly. He could feel the warmth drifting away from her veins, her heartbeat enervating.
"We're almost there...stay...stay with me." He insisted. His throat was dry and his legs were weak. A loud bang was heard from the distance. A weasel hurried past them, followed by a faint roar and an explosion. The moon reared its head in the dimming sky. The sun buried its face deeper into the mountains. The last of its rays shone onto their new frontier, an urban setting, an image stranger to most wildlife. The grumpy, stoic caricatures of edifices stood half a mile in front of them, behind wired fences and metal gates. They could hear the whispers of the city.
It lingered in their ears, a word of welcome. Destination is nigh.
"Just a few more steps..." He sputtered.
"No... not near enough..."
He looked at her. Her face was pale, the color of her fur draining away. Her eyes were shut and her head looked like it was about to fall in any given second.
"Don't do this...Don't let go..." He could barely think straight, for all he would imagine is her dying in his hands.
"The trees..."
He turned to her instantly.
"What? What did you say?"
"The trees," she muttered, "trees are all...dead."
She opened her eyes, locking into his confused face.
"It is so sad, the perishing of these lovely giants. For a while it was scintillating in beauty, and now it's just skinny and naked, its flourishing leaves detaching from its extensions and deserting it. It loses everything..."
"Good sake enough of that, please Tulip. You're driving me insane."
She pointed at a pine wood a few feet to her side, swaying tiredly in the middle of the tundra.
"It died..."
"It lives forever, Tulip. It lives."
"But it is still so sad, isn't it Cirgale?"
"Get in! Get in! For the love of God. Can you not hear me?"
He spun around. A weasel was yelling right at his face. A dozen forest dwellers creatures gathered in front of a huge pipe opening, shouting at all direction, as the others scrambled in. All sorts of noise could be heard echoing inside the massive tunnel.
"Do you two want to live?" The weasel bellowed.
"Forgive me but allow me to stay out of the crowd, please," he pleaded. "She is very weak right now. She needs some fresh air."
The weasel gave him a questioning look and turned away with a scorn. Slowly and carefully, he dragged her fragile body away from the throng, the commotion. He settled her down on a flat ground next to a precipitous slope, where individual survivors could be seen walking around in heavy breathing, sighing and panting as they began to process what they had been through.
She felt the soil on her back, the soft texture of moist earth, and she opened her eyes for a few seconds and closed them. He waited urgently for a response, a signal for relief, but all he could see is her emotionless pallid face. He didn't know how much is left in her. Someone came with water and he poured it all into her snout. She forced a cough, and after a long while turned around to faced him, her eyes barely opening, and she smiled.
"Hold my hand, Cirgale. Hold me close..."
He held her hand, shaking his head as he looked into her blue eyes.
"No...no...this can't happen..."
"Myrtle," she whispered, "so that is what it feels like, Mrytle. Tell him...that I know now..."
"I remember, Tulip. I'll tell him that we both know." He choked, tears swelling. "He saw it coming. He sure did."
"Yes," she smiled, "he said it all, and he was so right about us. It is like I both remember and don't remember. All that happened today subsides. My dear, you don't need to remember anything. It all ends...now..."
He took a deep sigh, his voice shaking.
"Tulip. I swore I would tell you this. That...that...rose I had, that I insisted I killed. It never was a victim of my malice. It was lying on the ground, and fate brought me to it. "
She gave a hearty chuckle.
"Silly... I knew. She died in peace, and you played no part in her passing. All along I was bullshitting you, and you even said it yourself."
He eked out a smile. He listened and digested every word she said. It felt so surreal. The conflicted emotions in his head overwhelmed him and almost topping him over. Her impression, the pristine beauty, was blurring out. The setting sun projected her shadow far across the vast land, a fiery glow shone on her ebbing body.
"You hideous monster..." she whispered.
"And aren't you a rude meddler yourself..."
"I love you..."
Her voice faltered away. He arms slid down his neck and landed on her furry chest. Her eyes were shut and her labor breathing could be heard no more.
And so he laid next to her and cried while others watched as they went by. The air grew cold and the gust was strong. The melancholy land of withering pines and larch submerged into darkness, and the clouds gathered to shower the vicinity with chilling raindrops.
"No..."
He was still, wet and undone, and as he gently shook her it was as though all hope was lost, and he would double down and curl up at a corner for eternal. There was nothing, like a barren wasteland.
Thunder and rain. Lightning flashed. It was all implied. It was all connected. And this is where we get off.

A step into the mist. A glimpse into paradise. The mackle of early spring fog. The looming shape of a trunk, shaded by the canopy, appeared and disappeared into the vacancy, a lulling whisper trailed across the forest.
The red fox made sturdy steps across a familiar and unfamiliar place. The distant banter and laughter of otters and chimps, his much beloved friends, sank beneath the incessant chanting of aviary and baboons. He felt a tinge in his nose as the indulging scent of sedges and bluebells touched him, and the warm embrace of moisture covered every growth of hair on his skin. He took a deep breath, caressing his lungs with nature's delight, and he looked up to the sky and fazed into the half-occluded sun and the lambent gleam of its morning rays. His whiskers drooped and he laid his skull on his shoulders, in a slanted posture, as he rested and dreamed.
He had no idea how long he had stopped by. He was mesmerized by the warmth of his surroundings and he adored it, refusing to wake up. But as he detached further away from reality he edged towards the dark side of his mind. A gaping hole inside his soul, a missing part of him dearth of vigor and hope, begging to be filled. The cravings intensified and in a disturbing jolt he sprang back to life. He was lonesome and dreary. The fog had cleared the path in front of him and he got up to his feet and set off.
As he moved along he noticed something on the ground. A dainty rose, cut at its stem, lying next to a couple of thorn bushes and birch wood. Its exquisite red pedals struck incongruence with the bland surface it was set on. Amused, he picked it up and held it in his jaws, its blossom dangling at the side of his cheeks.
Minutes later he found himself in the midst of a spruce forest, where lush leaves painted the world before him in green, and the mossy forest bed was soft and cushy as ever. His brownish red coat glistened with glamour and gloss. Suddenly, there was a shuttling in the bushes, as of another person lurking close by. He looked around startled. His ears raised, his body on full alert.
"You hideous monster." A voice came from the proximity.
Out of the bushes came a slender figure. A red creature striding on all four, with a fluffy tail and a pointy snout.
It was someone he had never met. A fox, of his very kind, but slightly different. It is of lesser height and size, and in lieu of thick muscles and mass there was the elegance of a curvy torso and thin legs. Its beady eyes scintillated under the morning sun and its ears and whiskers were delicate, handmade by the essence of nature. Its brush wavered in the breeze, and as it went it swept the fallen leaves off the floor and over its body as they swirled around in a dazzling display.
"And aren't you a rude meddler yourself?" He snapped back.
As she opened her mouth, her voice was feminine and soothing, with a soft rasp in it.
"That is no way to talk to a lady, don't you think?"
"So what is your problem, girl?"
The lady fox circled around him, lifting her paws high upon each step, a wry simper stretched across her face.
"You murdered her." She answered. "You took the life of the most wonderful being."
"Why does it matter to you that she is dead or alive? I just think it was cute. That's why I took it. I severed its stalk and watched it gasped for breath. The leaves crippled and its blossom writhed, and just like that she was terminated from living. It was enjoyable for me to say the very least."

"Well, well ain't you a badass? You think you have a say in her matter? You aren't even close to realizing the weight of your actions, and now you continue to smother and torture this beautiful young rose with your disgusting teeth? Do you know how much her life is worth?"
He looked at her grimly.
"Girl, I hate to be rude and hurt your precious feelings, but had she been alive she would also have considered your bantering ridiculous, for she had told me the exact opposite of what you said. She never truly lived. Her existence was fleeting and hapless. Her beauty was futile and wasted. Animals come by and went away everyday unaware of her presence, for she was covered by the leaves and bushes of her humble surroundings. The thing is, she was just as ordinary as everything else, in contrary to your belief, because she was so hidden beneath the shadows that no one saw her magnificent bloom. She looked back and regretted her whole life, moaning in tearful eyes, of her ephemeral beauty and wretched fortune."
"I bet you must have pissed her to death with your foul breath. Either that or she had suicided to free herself from your bullshit."
"How about me straight up murdering her ass."
"Oh that must be fun, while also making you unforgiving," she said in an alluring tone, swinging her brush. "You may live by no laws, but you shall live by my contempt. Her life, in the height of its powers, were miles beyond what you could possibly conjure, or anything you dared to be and pitifully failed. The subordinate had usurped the superior. Such exasperating. You shall live in shame."
"Nothing is more superior than others." He snapped. "She was just as useless as you. Now go away, or shall I necessarily face your punishment? Shall I dig a hole and jump in it so I can cover up my face and cry until the moment of my death? Would that be enough of a compensation?"
"Death? To die is what you are saying? Even as a virgin?"
He startled. She beamed cunningly, her sharp eyes looking straight into his conscience.
"What do you know about me, you idiot?"
She giggled and crawled around him coyly.
"Oh maybe I am the special one. Maybe I know everything about you, or maybe that was just a wild hunch. Can you possibly tell? Would you believe me if I told you the witchcraft that I practice, the power that smolders and seethes underneath my skin?" She giggled frantically. "That moment you build up your brittle pathetic defense, I have scrutinized every detail of your mind. Your salacious desires and your tumultuous thoughts, bundling up inside a troubled and powerless individual. There is a gaping hole inside you, an absence of something rudimentary to your well-being, and you tried your darnedest in order to fill it up, but you don't even know how and what to do in order to assuage the pain you experienced. You are falling deeper and deeper into the void without even knowing it yourself, or you do now?"
"You are just f***ing with me ma'am, aren't you? What if I told you I've f***ed a girl before? What if you are plainly bullshitting all along, and that all your claims are outright specious and untrue, your pretentiousness pestering and pathetic? It is so petty. You are so petty, a cradle of f***ing nonsense from the moment you walk in. Why, just why, lady?"
Their eyes locked with each other's for a long while. He was truculent. She was entertained. She beamed again, her sweet lips extended across her cheeks. It almost felt like she was unmolested by his words, that they barely left a scratch on her dignity. She waited and waited, and when he started to feel awkward from the lasting eye contact, she spun around and skipped into the bushes without any hesitation. Haha she laughed, a mocking laugh almost taunting his outrage, then she was gone.
He didn't know what was happening. An impulse traveled through his nerves. It almost like he wanted to follow her, and the more he thought about his unlikely acquaintance he felt like he should, and he would be bound to do so.
He was a fly in the web, ineluctably devoured by this mystical force that popped out of nowhere into his world. Her scent caught his nose and his legs shifted and shuffled automatically towards it. He dipped his head close to the ground, his sweaty nose sniffling ravenously for any remnants of his target. Down the rocky slopes and through the sandy pits he went, and it didn't take long for him to come to the realization that the scent was toning down as he proceeded, meaning that she had broken into a sprint, toying with him.
"The bastard," he muttered, and with a playful sneer on his face he started running, flexing his powerful muscles as his legs stretched and bent at full speed. He was riding the wind.
The two foxes tunneled through the vegetation, panting and perspiring as they played a game of chase.
It soon reached a point when she stopped, just five minutes into the action, and she stood at the spot expended of energy. She found herself right beside a fairly wide stream. The water was slow and fish leaped and danced in the shallows. Jogging along the shore, a beaver arrived at the scene and caught a glimpse of the haggard voyager.
"Tulip hey," he gestured at the lady fox.
She looked at the rusty old mammal and smiled. She was panting hard and sweat were dripping down her head.
"Ah Myrtle. I've f***ed myself up again. Every damn time."
"So what are you up to this time? Chasing wasps? Climbing bears?"
"I'm changed," she sputtered, "I'm messing with a bigger piece of s*** now."
"You are a true wonder my dear. Just a word of advice though. Always mind yourself, because you know what you are born of, and you know your conditions. It is like you are ignoring the signs of your body. Just saying 'cause you're a rebellious fellow. You ran again and stirred up the concerns."
"I know what I'm doin' sweetheart." There were tiny leaves and soil all over her face. She tried to wipe them with her paws but ended up daubing the dirt all over herself.
A split second later the other fox burst out of the trees. He didn't show any signs of fatigue, and his glanced around the river bank with a determined look in his eyes.
The beaver gasped in excitement.
"Well, well," he said, raising his eyebrows, "I'd be damned."
"Yeah," she panted, "just appreciate the looks of this thing. Ain't this one big guy to f*** with?"
"Tell me you have more to say," the fox snarled. "You don't just appear in front of me with a mouth full of crap and leave without a hiss."
"Unfortunately for you that is exactly what she does every time," said the otter. "She's probably done with you."
The fox turned to him.
"Who the f*** are you?"
The otter raised his paws in defense.
"I play no role in this tale. Everything happens between you two only. Is there any stuff you would like to sort out, my dear Tulip?"
Tulip. Tulip. What a name, he mused. He looked at her dirty face, upon which she turned bashfully to avoid his view. Tulip, a flower fox. An inhabitant of nature. A child of nature. Tulip, oh Tulip. How sweet is the sound, lingering between his lips as he spoke, so fondly pleasing and oddly sensual.
She remained at the spot, still recovering from the exhaustion. Embarrassed yet still reticent and confident, she glanced over to the slow moving stream, staring longingly into the foams of water splashing against the rocky sides. After a while, she turned to him.
"Grab me a fish from the river." She shouted.
At first he was perplexed by her seemingly random request. He thought for a while, and sensing the vantage of his position he lunged at the opportunity.
"Wait, so are you asking me to bring you food, a fresh living fish, just so you can satisfy your own appetite, to curb your hunger?"
"Who said I was going to eat it? I just wanted you to fetch one for me."
"And here you implied its imminent death," he debated, closing upon her, "because if not, what else could you possibly do to its poor soul?"
She gave a hearty chuckle.
"Silly silly fox," she said, "you seem a little bit confused by my humble request, or should I say, confused by what just came out of your very own mouth. Not that I must admit that you were wrong about that. I have no other intentions except to crush its skull with all my might and shove its flesh into my jaws. But, my friend. Your mind is in the wrong place. You are accusing me, you wanted to, for I would be a despoiler of life had I done that, which happens to mirror the treachery that you have perpetuated moments ago. You have imposed before me a question, whether the weight of my sins is as hefty as the weight of yours, and that shall I fall victim to my own words, according to my standards, my philosophy? Is that what you meant by your advance?
"Such silliness in you... The fallacy in your claim is your assumption towards the victims in both cases. Life is not all equal. Don't you see how disparate these objects are, the flower and the fish? There's this being who had never been of any use to this world and anything around it. It lived among so many of its kind, in this small cold stream where it spent its whole life doing the banal chores of life, having no qualities of great significance. It is a disposable animal. It has a mundane appearance which does not strike me as a work of substantial value. Its death barely leaves any ponderous ramifications, except probably a lost friend for the other fish in the river, a fact that they are likely to forget a couple seconds later."
"From my perspective, they are no different at all." He argued. "Despite of the stark difference in beauty and prestige, they both have to come to terms with the same fate - death, and the acceptance of their insignificance. You may say the rose lived to see a few swift days of blossom and beauty, while the fish never had these moments. At the end of the day, still, both of them were buried in the shadows and would never be discovered by anyone special even in their unceremonious death, and so said they are never anything of worth in the first place. Fate has drawn them apart from the glory and success they wanted so badly.
"This is where you are wrong. Life is worth living once you seize your moment. You never knew when it will come, or in what form it will take, but once it presents itself you will know. There may or may not be a choice. Once you get there and you see yourself shine with all glamour and pride in the universe you will have your place in time. You cannot consider the rose unworthy. Not because she told you so. Not because no one saw her when she is living her fullest. The morning she woke up to see her bud open with an explosion of color, the stars would align and her name would be written in the skies, as she stood out of all the lackluster trees and grass that environ her and the world stopped in her honor. It might have been short-lived, but it was salient. All that said, the life I take is lowly, the life you take is lofty. There is no comparison."
"What is this distorted philosophy of yours?" The fox jeered in disdain. "The moment you referred to could be anything, in any given time. I can take a s*** which could go down to be the s*** of my life. There can be billions of life-defining moments which I dream of but will never be able to realize them. If it is really that arbitrary, why wouldn't every life be as meaningful, or as meaningless as each other's?"
"Everyone has the chance, but it doesn't mean they would be smart enough to find it. The fish is a metaphor, and in some ways it is you. You have never seen the power of the moment, you have never seen your own potential, and you may never will. I don't see you making any headway on that front, because you probably don't know what you want to become. You believe your current goals can lead you to the right path of salvation, but I bet much of them are merely misguided truth. You believe in fate? Fate can be brutal, but to other people, fate can also reward. Sadly, you aren't chosen for a fairy tale character, and you will be the fish for the rest of your days, ranting about how the rose is just the same as you. Now give me the fish."
The fox remained calm and silent, frowning.
The beaver was also still, and she, deflated by the physical exertion, could barely stand as she spoke. Deep inside her, he could see some of the most bizarre thoughts he could ever imagine coming from a sentient being. Not even the wisest of men, nor the wildest of brutes, could conceive of such atrocity of a theory.
He heaved a sigh, and turned languidly to the river, succumbing to her persistence. Standing at the edge, his eyes shot through the water surface, scanning over each and every unwitting carp and pike swimming gleefully within his reach. He waited and waited, calm and ready for any opportunity. Then the school of fish culled a few feet away from him. He seized the moment and struck. In a blink of an eye his razor sharp claws had sunk deep into the river in a raging blow. Water and mud splashed around and fish darted aimlessly across the river bed, helpless under his manifestation of power. He caught something in his paws, a trout struggling under his grasp, blood streaming profusely out of its mouth and gills as the fox's claws protruded from his scales. He lifted it up and walked toward the her, who hastily took it from his paws and snatch it with her snout. She leaned closer to his face, their whiskers almost contagious as she whispered softly.
"Good boy."
He did not say a word. She leaned back and hopped towards a short shaggy willow next to the river bank. She laid against its trunk and started chewing into the bloody chum that was the fish.
And so he sat down, his arms and legs crossed, his brush swung over to the side his face, gently caressing it with his fur. Peering over, he saw the beaver walking to his side, and he buried his head into the warmth of his own embrace.
"Hey fella," in came his voice, "If you don't mind me asking, I wonder why you would chase that crazy gal all the way here."
He reared his head and sighed.
"I don't know. I really don't, but from the moment I first saw her it seemed like I was hooked. I couldn't move for half a second. There is this feeling that kept urging myself to pursue her, and she possesses something that entices me."
The beaver listened eagerly.
"You are a virgin boy? You are young..."
The fox returned at him grumpily.
"Why would anyone be interested in this part? What is your problem sir?"
"Oh I'm not the one interested," laughed the beaver, "I'm sure someone else would be."
The fox gulped and stared at him, with a weary look in his eyes.
"I've seen things my lad," continued the beaver, "I can pretend to know everything happening in this world but, you see, there's always uncertainties in this chaos that I couldn't grasp, or fate that eluded my reach. I say you have the youth to know what to do, the wit to follow up. I'll leave you at that"
"I don't understand you."
"Again I'm not the one you need to understand. There's someone else in the forest scurrying around begging for approval and attention, to assert her place in this universe. I've known her for years, and she has never come so close to finding someone who could match her intelligence and understand her ludicrous speeches. She has a glassy exterior but a soft and tender heart, and like you sometimes she doesn't know what she was talking about. I would recommend you to obey your instincts and, let say 'indulge' her."
The beaver pointed at the person under the tree.
"You see that tree over there? Your heart is guiding you to that direction. You may not know why are you doing this, but do mark my words, for your distaste towards fate would be proven wrong as it turns to your favor. I have belief in that."
"What do you want me to do?" said the fox.
The beaver turned to him.
"Look at you. Go look at yourself in the water. Such a pitiful sight to behold, someone as handsome as you. There is a gaping hole inside of you, a void you desperate to be filled. You wander out of your abode and traversed this terrain in search for your true self."
"Why..." stuttered the fox. "Why do you all pretend as though you know me?"
"Oh my child," smiled the beaver, "maybe she is not really as special as you think she is. Then again she is very special to you. I'd advise you to seek it out.
"And once again mark the words of old Myrtle, my final gift for you, stranger. I know the end of your journey. I know the end of your story. I know how it will end, and you'll know. You'll see, and you'll know I knew, for it was all built into the present, the past, the very inception. Tell me when you know, and on that note, go fetch that poor girl some water. This is where I get off."
The beaver left without another word. He stood up and saw him heading toward the lady fox, as he exchanged a few words with her, and after a while he vanished into the forest without a trace.
He didn't feel obliged to follow his instructions, but then again he wasn't obliged to follow that girl at the first place, so what's the matter with doing what he told. He didn't know what to expect as he dipped his snout into the stream and gathered a mouthful of water. He raised his head and at that very instant knew what was to come, and he felt all kinds of senses raiding his head, inexplicably so. There was a thrill in his heart, a torrent of excitement surging through his spine and striking his brain numb. It was a something he had never felt before, and had never once thought of feeling.
He carried the water all the way to the sleeping willow, his legs shaking against his will. Then he stopped a meter away from her as he waited for her to rise to her feet. She has shaken off the dirt on her face, and unveiling before him was the pretty face that hooked him from the very start. His ears twitched and his whiskers trembled. His eye opened wide, like a beggar at the face of gold.
"Why are you still here?" She said in a hostile voice. "Fine you don't my ridicule. You think I'm assuming you? Well hell yeah I did. Now ain't you mad? What are you gonna do..."
She stopped when she was met with his silence. His face looked different and she was perplexed. It didn't take long for her to sense his penchants and her cheeks started to redden. He walked closer and closer, and he blushed as well.
"Hey, what are you doing f***er?" She growled at him, as he drew in the distance.
"You...you thirsty?" He could barely open his mouth.
"What? I...I'm not...thirsty?"
She tried to back away, but her back hit the bark of the trunk. He was unhesitating, pushing forward with steady will and great curiosity. Their eyes met, their faces under each other's heavy scrutiny. Her guard was down, and the wicked smile gave way to a timid irresolute stare. It was as if the thirst came to her, goading her an inch closer and closer, until their nose were once again at the point of almost touching, and then they did.
He could feel her now. He was in contact with her, and in an instant all the cells in his organs danced in unison. His mind was cheering him on, and so his head protruded, stretching his neck, her whiskers tickling his. His mouth gaped and water roamed down his jaw. She did the same, and their lips touched. He closed his eyes, and stars appeared in front of him. He couldn't help but hold her tighter to his chest, pressing onto her as hard as he could. She receded to his grip and closed her eyes as well, her mind drifted out of her body while they shared this intimate moment.
He pulled away. Their eyes were transfixed upon each other. She moved to one side, he moved to the other side; she moved backward, and he moved to where she was standing. She waltzed into a bush, he followed her lead, tiptoeing into the forest. Her body slipped between fern leaves and slid under spruce logs. Once again he was bound by her spell, a mystery he was curious for an answer. His thoughts had abandoned him, and natural instinct had taken over. There is only one thing in his mind - there is no turning back.
And as the two lovebirds ventured deeper and deeper into the bushes, there was no turning back, and it was all destined to be. They are closing to the end.

Space of no boundaries.
Oh how you have deceived me
With your endless opportunities
And my cheerful optimism
Lunging to hug my destiny
The greater unknown is what I dreamed of
The misguided truth is what I lived by
I can drift away without a sound
I can shape myself into any form
Or, I can be nothing at all
Sometimes I wake up and find myself in the body of a fox. I cry to the sky. I taste my skin. I feel my breath. I say to myself what a damn good way to live, then again what a damn waste it is. What a sad way to put it. Those stars, far beyond my reach, nowhere near to be found, and maybe I never even knew what they are to start with. How else shall I make my life special, when all hope is gone? It has been a headache, a burden, an excuse for anger and defiance. The light in my soul shines on no one, my desires never to be fulfilled. All these moments are gone to waste. I exist for nothing.
And so now my ranting is done. I am exhaust of breath. I lie down deflated and defeated. I waited for my life to drain, and all these meaningless seconds to transpire before my eyes. Secretly in my groin, I waited for fate to dawn upon me and infuse me with new energy, or a new life. It never came. I never stopped waiting.
Is there an answer at all? What is hiding behind the stars? What is the secret you have kept from me for so long? Is it something I can see, I can reach and touch, I can fathom? My body of blood and flesh at the face of the prodigious planetary, shape the universe before me with my every move. Is it power, or was this planned? Am I misled, or am I the one who understands? Will the question be solved, or will it live on forever?
He opened his eyes.
A sparrow glided through the treetops and perched on top of a branch. It sneaked its beaks behind its wings and pecked unmannerly. It grimaced as a scatter of particulates blew towards him, and specks of grey resembling burnt leaves settled all over the forest flow. An uncanny sight to behold, almost like an omen, of disaster brewing in the core of the woods. A squirrel crawled up the oak tree on three limbs, one hand carrying a stack of blueberries and acorns. He took notice of the surprise visitor, who bent down and was watching over something enthusiastically.
"What ye lookin' at?" He grumbled and peered through the dense oak leaves. Two small furry creatures were prancing across the forest, one trailing behind the other by a tail's length, and every ten seconds they would look at each other fondly and passionately before they broke into another segment of their gleeful waltz.
"Won't you look at that?" said the sparrow. "It be that ol' imbecile again."
"That sly fox? Are you sure is him lad?"
"I swear upon the highness of the sun. That filthy animal it is him, his obnoxious red coat catchy as f***."
"What is he doing here, even?"
"He be up to no good. A useless piece of trash. Hypocritical brat. I spit on thee."
The squirrel climbed on top of an adjacent branch and tossed a berry to the bird.
"I thought he was still trying," said the squirrel. "They say he got really deep into that city business, climbing up the hierarchy, and he would start getting chunks of good food in a matter of months. Gotta do better than that though, cuz he be f***ed a lot still. Betcha he didn't get more than a scrap of meat from them dogs."
"Ay he wish," the sparrow shook his head dismally. "Motherf*er doesn't know his limits. Motherf*er thinks he be Jesus. Look at the frown on his face, like f***ing over us kind. Pathetic piece of s***, I reckon him retire on his own accord."
The squirrel watched him go, further and further from his sights. His tail dragging along the mud. The earth left a trail of his footprints. He was no longer to be seen. Ferns bowed over and examined the bits and remnants that he left behind. There was a delightful quality in all that he associated with. His paws left traces on the crusty soil that glitters in gold, the leaves and grass that laid fingers on his fur awakened with alacrity. The wind that brushed his hair sings a euphoric tune. The land on which he trod, and everything surrounding him, turned to his presence and rose from their slumber, ruminating as he passed by, for the beast they once knew seemed a little different today. It was as if there was a change in the way he looked that afternoon, puzzling and as enigmatic as life itself. Fuddled by his aura and bewitched by the power contained in his bowels, the world stopped moving. Those who knew him watched and waited, fondly and keenly, for him and the girl that preceded him.
It went on for as long as he could remember. She stopped at one point. She looked anxious. There was something holding her back, a looming concern. She turned to see her eager companion tailing closely with a cheeky smile, and her heart suddenly ached as her blood simmered beneath her skin. It was this brewing uncomfort inside her telling her to give in, to relinquish her idea and flee the scene. She closed her eyes, and the memories of their encounter rose to the surface. She remembered the praise and appreciation his otter friend had given him, and him urging her to meet and to know him - to probe him. How slim are the chances of such serendipity dawning upon her, for no other person in this world can re-enact the enthusiasm and passion he has for her. She was steadfast in her decision. She knew fate is guiding her every action thus far, and there is no other way out of this chain of events. She got back to her feet and dove through the gigantic hedge wall.
The sun rose to its peak, and its dazzling rays showered earth with a myriad of golden arrows. Down below the forest leaves filtered every beam of sunlight with a hue of green, and the world below the trees was like the interiors of a kaleidoscope. The forest hedges formed a circle and hemmed a large open area, where the sky was brimmed with a million dazzling patterns and the air was warm and fragrant. The tree stood at the very center, taller and prouder than the rest. It extended its arms, each of them intertwined with a million pink leaves and petals, embracing the forest floor in all its breadth. Tardily the fox strolled, stopped, and examined the land before him. Carefully he placed a soft paw into its demesne. A circumsphere of pink, where pinkness flurried down in a cascade, circled around his shoulders in a gaudy display of stunning beauty. He took another step, then another, as the cherry blossom petals landed on his back and neck, caressing him. She was standing gracefully at the trunk, masquerading behind the floral curtain, her head slightly slanting and dipping, her feet gathering at a single spot, and her tail, ever so soft and pretty, was swaying side to side with much grandeur and swag.
Without a word spoken, she summoned him closer and closer. He answered with every curious step, and the nearer he got and more he blushed, and backdrop seemed to fade from his sight, and the world shone on him and her only. She blinked flirtatiously, and he flew his arms around her and kissed her. She held on to his muscular torso, and they grew more and more intimate. A sudden loss of balance and they stumbled together. With a thud, she laid on her back, her soft white belly facing up, and her paws crouched on top of it submissively. He arched over her, eyes grazing over her bewildered face, as all sorts of crazed thoughts flew through his head. She blushed intensely, her beady eyes watery with desire. His limbs wrapped around her. Their tails touched and crossed. They kissed again, and he placed his chest against hers and felt her fervid warmth, which diffused through his veins and nerves and made his hair stood to their ends.
 After the unbridled fervor undertaken he was in one with her, never to be separated, never to be drawn apart. Soon they would recuperate from their wear and quietly nuzzle each other under the cherry blossom, forever so. Time was frozen ever since, and it no longer toiled, tampered, tormented the youthful living things on this planet.
The power of the moment never subsided. Two unassuming creatures of the forest had joined together and outshone the brightest star of the universe, towering over the biggest nova in the whole cosmos. Things that would never happen, and whatever the misfortunes they may lead, were effaced from existence as they all bowed and knelt before the new order, the order the two has decreed upon earth and all its living things...
Had this been true, would it change anything?
Would it give them any meaning in their lives?
Or perhaps time never does play a role in it after all?
Is it the answer...
The end is built into the beginning.