FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

The peppery scent of breakfast sausage wafted into Henry's nostrils as he stared pensively at his platter in front of him. All around the room, other lumberjacks ate their meals, but the mess was sparsely filled this morning as most had left for their various job zones.

He had slept well last night, blessed by vague dreams of success and adulations for his work. When he woke, he found himself alone in the cabin. Sam had risen earlier than him and had already eaten breakfast and headed south to their job site. His harsh words for him breaking the rules would have to wait until after he finished his meal. Only Alfred had joined him this morning to share mealtime in the longhouse.

Finishing his article and then folding yesterday's newspaper, Alfred asked, “How did it go with the foreman last night?"

“Not well," Henry said as Alfred began scooping forkfuls of scrambled eggs and hashbrowns into his mouth. “Between the allergies and his lack of organization in the office, I'm lucky he even let me in to talk."

“Mmhmm," Alfred said through a full mouth. After chewing and swallowing, he added, “I always know when he's coming to check on us. You can hear him sneezing a half-mile away."

Henry smirked, knowing that Alfred had been saved a couple times from a reprimand by the foreman's allergies for taking an unscheduled break.

“He's got his eye on us now," Henry commented, raising a forkful of eggs to his mouth. “I don't think he'll accept safety as an excuse to rest up in the middle of a shift." Retrieving a wad of eggs that had fallen between his overalls and his red plaid shirt, he added, “He's the reason I let you guys claim safety while under my watch."

Sipping his coffee, Alfred nodded. “You going to keep going easy on Sam, then?"

“Sam is on my shitlist today," Henry said cooly before taking a bite of his sausage. “He saw fit to bring some food to the cabin for a late snack."

Grimacing, Alfred nodded again, knowing all-to-well the repeat infestations the cabins had. If it wasn't the ants, it was the gnats, fleas, mosquitos, or any other variety of biting insect that would show up with the slightest excuse.

“It takes time, even with the best of us," Alfred said. “For kids like Sam, it's either work with us, or deal with the draft. I think I know which I'd prefer."

“All the more reason for him to follow the rules," said Henry, flatly.

Nodding once more, he tossed back his coffee mug and dropped it back to the table. Standing up, Alfred asked, “See you out there?"

“Yup! I'll grab my gear and follow you in a few," Henry said between bites of his eggs.

After Alfred walked out the double doors of the longhouse, Henry began to hastily shovel the rest of his meal into his mouth. Dropping his dirty platter off with the kitchen staff, he made his way to the back rooms where the equipment was stored. Selecting a logging belt kit and filling it with the wedges he would need, he wrapped it around his waist and over his shoulders. It took him some time to find a splitting axe he wanted to carry with him today, as most looked damaged in some significant way, and after the stories like what happened with Team Six, he wasn't interested in bringing a chainsaw. Lastly, he grabbed a set of keys for a supervisor Jeep and made his way outside.

The vehicle depot was a couple hundred feet east from the longhouse. It was a small pen with a handful of personnel 4-wheelers intended for the distant job sites like Henry's. Without one, the whole crew would have to walk back to the longhouse once the shift was over. Henry unhooked the clipboard nailed to the chain fence and started to fill out his receipt for the Jeep he was about to take out. Once done with the paperwork, he grabbed the metal gas can from the supply tank and began to top off the fuel in his car. Refilling the tank was the job of the last person to use the vehicle, but everyone was lax in their duties, so it usually fell upon him to do it for them. Listening to the rhythmic glug-glug-glug of the can emptying, Henry began to space out, lost in thought.

“Hi Hen!" boomed an excited voice from behind Henry.

Henry was so startled that he almost dropped the gas can, but caught it with his fumbling grasp before it could do anything more than slosh around in his arms.

“Jesus, Redford!" Henry shouted out. “Don't sneak up on me like that!

“Sorry!" Redford profusely apologized. “I just wanted to know how it went with the foreman last night!"

“He practically threatened to fire me the moment I said anything on your behalf!" Henry answered angrily. “Next time, ask him yourself!"

“I would, but Ol' Sneezy barely tolerates me being around him as it is," Redford said, casting his gaze downward, forlorn. “He's not very receptive to anything I have to say."

“Maybe you should try not being so obnoxious all the time," Henry offered. “Your survey work is solid enough." Truth be told, Redford's work was always spot-on, and without his accuracy, Henry wouldn't have bothered visiting the foreman for alternate routes last night.

“Why thank you, Hen," Redford said, lifting his eyes from the ground and beaming at the praise. “But why bother Ol' Sneezy when I can get you to do it for me?"

Henry gave Redford a deadpan stare as his gas can finished emptying into the Jeep's tank.

“Are you headed down to the new road today?" asked Redford, changing the subject quickly.

Henry continued his stare, but stated flatly, “Yes, that's why I'm here." He wondered if he could get away with accidentally backing over Redford's foot once he drove out of the depot.

Seemingly unaware of the aggravation he was causing, Redford cheerfully said, “Good, good, good! I'm sure things will go a lot smoother for everyone once you're down there to help!"

“How about you go find someone else to bug for a while, Redford," Henry suggested diplomatically. “Preferably someone that doesn't let you con them into doing your job for you."

Redford gave a cheeky wink. “Why, that sounds like a fantastic idea, Hen. See you out there!" Turning around, he skipped like a child out the gate of the depot and back toward the longhouse.

Henry buried his bearded face into his palm, embarrassed for Redford. Desperately, he hoped no one was paying attention to what he just did. Pulling his hand down, he looked around and saw no one within line-of-sight of the depot. Sighing a breath of relief, he jumped into the Jeep and turned the key.

The unfinished road was bumpy, so Henry had to drive slow over the sharp gravel. Turning onto the southern road, he began fuming to himself again. Redford knew what he was doing; they had been friends for so long, how could he not? Still, despite their history, he had been taking it upon himself to become more and more aggravating to be around. It's like he had given up on taking anything seriously, especially his job. He had never been a serious person, but Henry needed him to behave better than this if he was going to keep calling him a friend. This job site didn't have much margin for error, and his antics could only get someone hurt before it helped anyone's morale.

Swinging the wheel to the left, Henry narrowly swerved around a large pothole that had formed in the road. Up ahead, he could see Alfred walking down the path, his axe slung over his shoulder. Slowing up the Jeep next to him, Henry called out over the rumble of the engine, “Need a lift?"

Accepting his offer, Alfred loaded his gear into the back of the Jeep and climbed into the passenger seat. “Thanks, it would be nice to be rested once we get there," he commented as he was situated.

He looked over to Henry driving and saw the stern face he was wearing. “Uh oh, did they not fill the tanks again?"

Henry nodded. He wasn't about to tell Alfred about Redford's embarrassing behavior at the depot. “That, and a couple other things," he finished.

Alfred knew better than the pry, so they sat in silence as the Jeep rolled down the bumpy road, only breaking their silence when finding they had to brace in their seats while driving across a particularly bad pothole.

Bill, Lou, and Sam were already at the end of the road, selecting the trees they were going to chop down today. Each one was marked with a set of three gashes in the shape of an upward arrow, exposing the lightly colored wood underneath the dark brown bark.

Turning to greet them, Bill embedded his axe into the side of the tree he was working on. “Morning, boss. Did you guys bring any rope or cables?"

Henry twisted his face into a thoughtful expression. “There may be some in the Jeep's supply kit. What do you need it for?"

“See, Lou and I were thinking about using the Jeep and a pully system to pull down the trees faster. My tree is about ready if we're going to try it."

Henry looked at the set of trees the three of them had been working on. Sure enough, Bill's tree was already half chopped with a few wedges hammered in, and it was only a few feet away from Sam's, which was far too large for him to be tackling all on his own.

“The idea is we weave the rope around that tree there," Bill gestured to Sam's tree, which barely had more than a few chips out of it. “Then we tie it to the Jeep's winch and give it a good tug. It should come down away from the Jeep and the rest of us if we pull it just right!"

Seemingly unaware of the plan, Sam limply took a swing at his tree, landing a glancing blow that only managed to take off another small chunk of bark. “Sam, knock it off for a minute!" yelled Lou, who had taken a position next to Bill and Henry.

Sam looked up from what he was doing and let his axe head hit the dirt with a heavy metallic thud. From what Henry could tell, Sam had picked up an axe that was too heavy for him to carry or swing properly.

“I like where you're going with this," said Henry to Bill. “Let's see what we've got in the Jeep."

Together, Bill and Lou started rooting around the back of the Jeep for any sort of rope or tow cables. Alfred stayed out of the way by walking up to Sam and offering to swap axes with him.

Aside from a short tow cable and some litter from a previous crew, the search of the storage compartments came up empty.

“Damn, I thought we had something going here," Bill dismayed, resigning himself to doing his work the normal way.

In Henry's mind, he could hear the foreman's frustrations at their lack of progress at the end of the day. “No, we're going to make this work," he said aloud. “I'll go back to the longhouse and see what I can scrounge up. We'll probably need more fuel if we're going to use the Jeep this way."

Both Bill and Lou lit up, excited at the possibility of getting some genuine progress done today. Behind them, Alfred was directing Sam to go deeper into the tree line to start marking trees for removal.

“Are you guys going to keep working while I'm gone?" asked Henry. It wasn't a question, but a request to affirm their responsibility to the team.

Both nodded eagerly and Lou retrieved his axe from the side of the road to help Alfred and Sam. Next to the axe, Lou's chainsaw sat dormant.

“And you guys be careful with that chainsaw," Henry called after them. “I don't want to come back to one of you needing medical!"

Lou waved back, now twenty feet ahead of the end of the road. “I'll save it for when you get back," he confirmed.

Satisfied his team was not about to fall victim to the hazards of this forest in his absence, Henry cranked the key in the ignition and threw the Jeep into gear. Swinging the wheel around, he pulled a U-turn and headed back toward the longhouse.

Bumping along, the Jeep's engine hummed with each press of the accelerator. Henry knew he couldn't fully open the throttle on an unfinished gravel road like this, but he wanted to get back to the supply room as soon as possible. Daylight limited how long they were able to work each day, and every minute he wasn't helping his crew was less progress they were making on their project. He could picture the foreman screaming at him from over the table in his office for his botched job handling this nightmare of a road project.

Distracted by his fatalistic thoughts, Henry didn't completely notice the large pothole in front of him and hit it at far too high of a speed. There was a loud BANG and the Jeep bucked as the rear wheels lifted off the ground, throwing Henry against the steering wheel. His sudden forward shift in weight slammed the accelerator pedal to the floor, making the engine roar and the wheels spin freely in the air. Lurching forward once the wheels landed, the Jeep hit a second pothole, shunting the front wheels sideways and turning the vehicle off the road before Henry could move his foot to the brakes. With all his might, he slammed the pedal down, unable to do anything more as he slid across the loose gravel and toward the tree line past the shoulder. Slowly, the car skidded to a stop, its bumper only inches away from the brown bark of the fir tree that loomed over him.

White knuckles wrapped around the top of the steering wheel, Henry let out a sigh of relief and released his death grip. That was too close. Turning off the ignition, he unbuckled himself and climbed out of the vehicle. If that bump from the pothole damaged an axle, he and the crew would have to abandon the idea of using the Jeep. It was unlikely he would get a second one loaned to him today, if ever.

Laying down on the ground behind the Jeep, he quickly inspected the rear axle and the tires, expecting to find something catastrophic to have happened. Even with his thick denim overalls he was wearing, the jagged edges of the gravel he was laying on poked and stabbed his back mercilessly. Only after a bit of wriggling he was able to settle the sharp edges away from his skin.

To his relief, there wasn't any damage to the car. As far as he could see, there were no shorn metal edges where a weld broke, or loose dangling rods or a damaged frame. Even if he had found something, he was only a couple thousand feet away from the rest of his crew, and Alfred knew a lot more about cars than he did. It would be a quick walk back to them in a pinch.

Sliding out from underneath the rear bumper and standing up, he looked around to gather his bearings. Across the road, there was a shallow drop-off, followed by a field of tall grass and a smattering of bushes and trees. Had the wheels turned that direction after hitting the pothole, he likely would have been injured, or needed a tow vehicle to pull the Jeep back onto the road. Turning around to face the trees his car almost crashed into, a prickling of recognition entered his mind.

This was it! The void he had seen on the map last night was right here!

It was a fantastic coincidence that he had stopped. Henry glanced back down the road where his crew was working. They were far out of sight, but he knew they would be waiting for him to come back with the ropes and cables. Still, he realized, if his hunch was right about this section of the forest, he could take the pressure off of them so they didn't need their road project completed with such urgency. This was his chance to investigate, and he wouldn't get the opportunity to excuse himself once he returned to his men with the ropes.

Hands shaking with hope and excitement, Henry pulled his axe from the back of the Jeep and marched up to the nearest tree. Quickly, as was customary with his crew, he gripped the axe close to the head and chopped three gashes into the side of the tree. Brown bark fell away, leaving the white wood exposed beneath, and the shape of an arrow was left on the trunk to mark it for impending removal and his passing into the forest.

Somewhere in the back of Henry's mind, he knew he shouldn't be breaking protocol. Leaving his crew without a lead while he went into the forest alone was a risky venture, but he also knew a half-hour spent scouting the void and preparing a path for his crew to clear could save the whole company weeks, even months if it paid off. As long as he didn't leave his crew too long and he kept marking the trees, he should be in the clear from scrutiny. Also, if he came upon bad terrain or some other roadblock earlier than finding the void, then there would be no reason to keep pushing inward.

The musty scent of mulch filled his nostrils as he traveled further past the tree line. It was as if the forest was eating all light and sound the deeper he traveled. There were no sounds of birds or other wildlife, and the only disturbance reaching his ears was the periodic thwack, thwack, thwack of his axe against each tree he passed.

Fifty feet in, Henry wiped his brow with the back of his glove before setting upon the next tree in front of him. Just as he finished his three sharp strikes, he heard a distant call deeper in the forest. It was a high-pitched trill of some animal, sounding almost like a whistling owl. In many ways, it reminded him of the sound the steam whistle at the mill would make at the beginning of each day.

“Shift's starting," he mused to himself under his breath with a smirk. The nostalgic memory of his origins with the company felt like a good omen. After all, it was his enthusiasm and initiative that got him promoted out into the field, much like the initiative he was demonstrating now. Maybe, if this panned out, he could be promoted to foreman at the next site. If it didn't, well, what the foreman didn't know about his absence wouldn't hurt him.

Deeper and deeper, Henry trudged onward. Every tree he passed by in a twelve-foot-wide path was marked with one of his arrows, prepping them for removal once he returned to his crew. Filled with anticipation, he could feel he was losing track of time, but he had passed nearly a thousand feet into the forest, and not one problem with the trees or the path he was setting would stop the machinery from accessing this corner of the woods. In fact, the sparce spacing of the trees would make clearing this road a quick job, a day or two at most. In his haste, Henry began to carve less and less legible markings in the trees, but he knew it would be alright. He would come back and fix them later as needed, and his path was still clear if he got lost.

Two hundred more feet, and the tree line broke. The void opened up before him, and he breathed a sigh of relief. He had made it, completely unimpeded by dangerous landscapes. Looking around at the clearing, it was small, roughly thirty feet in diameter and only big enough for a single vehicle to park or turn around. A rich, packed dirt made up the ground without much forest debris covering it; soil more than capable of holding a heavy truck without turning into a mire of mud. Henry could barely contain himself with excitement. He may have single-handedly saved the operation with this discovery!

In the center of the small void stood a single cedar. It was nearly two feet in diameter, and its branches reached up to the canopy, bridging much of the gap between the surrounding trees and creating the illusion that this section of the forest was as unbroken as the rest of it from the arial photos. Henry approached the tree, looking up at its high branches, and then looked around the rest of the void. Without this tree in the way, the company could pull a truck in and start collecting the lumber at the edges, working their way toward the middle of the forest, and outwards until the whole plot was cleared!

He had to celebrate his discovery. In commencement, he hefted his axe and struck the trunk of the singular tree, feeling its blade sink softly into the wood. This was no moss-covered rock like Team Six had discovered, for sure. Raising his axe a second time, he struck it again, and again, feeling relief and the weight of his stress leaving him with each swing.

It had been so long since he had felt so right. Everything about this job site had been working against him for months now. Finally, he could get a chance to do what he was here for, and nothing was going to get in his way. Not even the foreman could complain about his productivity, and even as a matter of safety, it was better that the tree was gone before the trucks made their way here in case it fell in the wrong direction.

Strike after strike, he cut away at the base of the tree; its sound singing through the clearing around him, until it became a muffled ring in the dense woods. Getting nearly halfway through the trunk, he paused to take a short break. A few feet away, the edge of a small boulder protruded from the earth, offering a good place to sit and catch his breath without soiling his overalls.

Plopping down on the stoney surface, Henry wiped the sweat from his brow. Quietly, he wished he had brought his canteen with him instead of the spare logging wedges. When he had left the longhouse supply room, he figured his focus was going to be on managing and supplying his crew today, not working up a sweat from chopping down a large tree all by himself. He had no regrets on how the day had progressed, regardless. All the physical exertion was just the sort of stress relief he needed on top of his wonderous find. Once he was rested, all he needed to do was finish off the tree, head back to base to report his findings, and then get his orders officially reassigned to this section. It would take longer than expected, but Bill would have his ropes too!

Rested and standing back up, Henry raised his axe once more and began striking the tree, hoping it would fall over soon under its own weight. Thwack, thwack, thwack, sang his axe once more, the sounds barely leaving the small clearing, deadened by the lush forest beyond. Just as he lifted his axe for another chop, a voice bellowed out from behind him.

“Henry! What are you doing?"

Henry jumped in his boots, and his swing bashed into the splintered trunk of the tree at a glancing angle, bouncing the axe head off uselessly as if Sam had swung it.

Whirling around in surprise, Henry found Redford standing fifteen feet away at the edge of the void, next to the final trees he had marked for removal. There was no mirth or merriment on his face, but a scowl of frustration.

“You're not supposed to be here," he growled to Henry. “Do you have any idea what you are doing?"

Redford's irritation made no sense to Henry. He was talking like he was about to run to the foreman and tattle on him for leaving his job site; a practice he never quite grew out of from when they were kids. Knowing there was little chance of getting in trouble with the foreman, Henry responded with the enthusiasm he had been feeling since he entered the void.

“I did it, Redford! I found a safe way into the forest! This land will be cleared in a few weeks, and you can go home and rest like you wanted!"

Redford looked too mad to care. All the survey work he had done for Henry's crew had just gone up in smoke from this discovery. Suddenly, a bright flash of lightning filled the void. Surprised, Henry raised his head to the sky, but he couldn't see a single cloud hovering above him through the forest canopy.

“That was weird," he said aloud, wondering if an unexpected rainstorm was about to start. The thought of getting back to the Jeep to cover the interior was only beginning to enter his mind when next to him, he heard a loud CRACK as the tree's trunk started to splinter and topple over in his direction.

Henry caught Redford's angered expression melting into horror as he watched from the edge of the clearing.

“Get away from it, Hen!" screamed Redford, who was standing too far away to be of help.

Everything happened so fast, he wasn't sure what happened first. One moment he was backpedaling away from the falling trunk, the next he was stumbling over a corner of the boulder he had been sitting on. The tree fell down and struck the earth with a heavy thud, but the vibrations shuddered through the trunk and it reared up, rolling toward him and bowling into Henry's chest like a truck. He was on the ground before he knew what had happened, followed by a burning, searing pain and a sharp snapping sensation in his abdomen as the tree smashed his body like it was paper. That was all he knew before he blacked out.

“Hen...? Hen?"

Henry's eyes fluttered open as he began to regain consciousness, but he quickly wished he hadn't. Redford was standing over him, prodding him and trying to shake him awake. He reflexively inhaled and stopped immediately as a sharp stabbing pain in his chest prevented him from finishing inflating his lungs.

“Hen, I'm so sorry," Redford whimpered compassionately.

The look in his eyes told Henry everything he needed to know. It wasn't good. Shifting his neck around, he looked down his chest, finding the thick trunk of the tree lying over his pelvis. Strangely, he couldn't feel its weight on him, but that's when he realized he couldn't feel his legs either.

“Redford, you... have to... get help," Henry rasped. The effort of talking caused him to cough, stabbing his lungs with every convulsion and filling his mouth with the coppery taste of blood.

Redford looked confused, like he didn't want to leave Henry alone, but slowly he rose up and looked around the clearing for the way he had come in. “Yeah... Get help," he said, his voice filled with hesitation.

Henry wanted to shout at him for delaying even a second, but he decided he only had the strength to assuage his fears. “I'll be... fine. Go before... it's too late," he panted between shallow breaths.

That was all the encouragement Redford needed. “Ok, Hen, I'll go get help. Hang on and don't die on me!" With that said, Redford disappeared from view and Henry could hear his footfalls leaving the clearing.

As soon as Redford was gone, Henry started to wish he hadn't left. The forest was deathly quiet, and any sounds he made, be it coughs or ragged breathing, seemed to get eaten before they left the void. He also had no idea how far away medical assistance was, or how quickly they could reach him.

In between each time he inhaled, he tried to guess how long he had before help could arrive. It could take Redford five minutes to walk back to the road, and if he took the Jeep, he could be back to the longhouse in another five. Double that for the return trip, and he was pushing twenty minutes before he could see anyone here again. Each breath he drew in felt like he was suffocating just a little more. He didn't think he had twenty minutes anymore. He was going to die alone.

Think positive thoughts, he stressed to himself. All he needed to do was keep breathing. He had been doing it since the day he was born. A little extra pain was nothing to give up over! As soon as the medical teams arrived, he could walk out of here. But he knew that wasn't really true. He was never going to walk again. His days as a lumberjack was over, and his survival depended entirely on Redford.

He stopped that line of thinking immediately. It wasn't improving his prognosis. Instead, he thought about his crew. Bill, Lou, Alfred were all waiting for him to come back with the ropes, and they had no idea the peril he was in. Sam was too new to care, and probably would enjoy the freedom to eat whatever he wanted in the cabin. In that regard, Henry realized he didn't get the chance to chastise him for bringing that roll back last night.

Henry tried to shift his weight to find an ounce of comfort, but it only made things worse as the broken bones rubbed and stabbed from inside. It had been only three minutes, and Redford probably hadn't reached the Jeep yet. With great effort, he pushed against the rough bark of the trunk laying over him with his leather-gloved hands. Maybe he could get himself free before help arrived! He gave up almost immediately; the tree was too heavy, and his body was too broken to move. At least, he found that the boulder he had been sitting on was holding much of the weight of the tree over him, rather than letting its bulk crush him fully in two.

Five minutes. Henry hoped that Redford had reached the Jeep by now and was speeding toward HQ. A horrifying thought suddenly crossed his mind: Redford may be flakey enough to forget to use the Jeep at all! Drawing another breath and fighting the stabbing pain inside, Henry let out another sigh. Optimism be damned. He really was a goner.

At the edge of the void, there was a rustle of a bush and a crunch of a leaf. Suddenly, a pair of foxes with brilliant orange fur coats leapt into view. Henry inhaled sharply at their sudden appearance and was rewarded with another jolt of pain from his ribs stabbing his lungs. Both of the foxes gamboled around the small clearing, taking turns inspecting the fallen tree and sniffing around the ground. It wasn't clear if they knew he was pinned under the tree because they were quite fearless.

Silently watching the foxes, Henry was surprised again when two more foxes emerged, this time on the opposite side of him. Both of them fixed their golden slitted eyes on him, and sauntered closer. An uneasy feeling came over Henry as they approached. Normally, foxes were virtually harmless to humans, but these two were looking at him with ravenous hunger in their brilliant golden eyes. If they decided he was vulnerable enough to eat, he wouldn't be able to fight any of them off.

The arrival of the second pair of foxes drew the attention of the first pair, and they ceased their playful leaping over and upon the fallen tree, both pricking their ears up, now alert. One dropped down to the earth and joined the two near Henry, while the other scampered across the log until it was sitting neatly over him. Angry, squeaky barks came from the other three foxes, and the fourth atop the tree dipped its ears back and leapt to the ground to join the quartet.

Encircled by the four, Henry was starting to find a new fear rising in his chest. If he wasn't going to die from being crushed, these foxes looked like they were planning to finish the job. “Shoo!" Henry rasped out, limply raising his hands above his head to swat at the animals. They were sitting out of reach and none of the four flinched in the slightest at his wounded motions, instead watching with curiosity and amusement. Swinging his hand again, Henry was surprised when one of the foxes lashed out, quickly nipping the glove he was wearing. Gently, the fox tugged on the glove until it came free, and with a jerk of its neck, tossed it spinning through the air behind it.

Each of the foxes began to chitter, whimper and squeak at each other, dipping their ears in response and flicking their fluffed tails behind them. Without warning, two of the foxes reared up on their hind paws and started screaming loudly at each other's faces, their mouths open wide and filled with razor-sharp teeth. Both placed their black paws on the other's white furred chest as they jousted with their fangs. The sound of their fight was deadened by the dense foliage of the forest, but that didn't help Henry who was laying two feet away from their squabble. His head started to hurt from their racket.

Seeming to seize on the distraction of the two other foxes, a third chose to hop onto Henry's chest. He groaned in agony and tried to push the animal's crushing weight off, but the fox wouldn't budge. It instead began to paw at his overalls where the tree pinned him to the ground, digging its claws in deep as if trying to pierce the thick denim.

Henry howled in pain and began to cough flecks of blood over his lips and onto his beard. This stopped the other two foxes from fighting, and both dashed over to chase off the fox on top of him. Wiping the blood and tears from his face, he gurgled as he tried to breathe again, but the weight of the fox had damaged his broken body even further. He looked up at the three foxes looming over him, their golden slitted eyes were studying him closely, waiting for him to die. It would be only moments now.

The void lit up with another flash of lightning, and all three foxes snapped their attention to the fourth fox who was stationed a few feet away. Naturally drawn by their attention, Henry turned his head too, seeing the fourth fox with its ears drawn back in guilt. Heaving for one more breath, he was shocked to find that his chest didn't hurt so much anymore. In fact, it almost felt uninjured again! Immediately, he took the deepest breath of air he could and coughed out a sigh of relief. By complete chance, his broken ribs were no longer stabbing him. He almost started laughing at how much better he felt!

The three foxes screeched at the lone fourth fox, but none of them bothered to get into another jousting match with their fangs. Despite their protests, the fourth fox did not cower away, and sat resolutely in its spot.

An anxious notion came over Henry: if the foxes weren't going to eat him right now, he needed to try to free himself before they changed their minds. He was still easy pickings while stuck under the tree. Bracing his elbows against the ground, he tried to sit up, but immediately regretted it. Firey pain shot throughout his torso and spine, trying to sap his breath from his lungs. Even though his ribs were no longer stabbing him with each breath, his body was too shattered to budge.

The three foxes heard his gasps and swung their attention to him. Quickly, they disregarded his feeble attempt at escape and redoubled their loud argument with the fourth. Sitting defiantly, the fourth casually dipped its ears back dismissively, closing its eyes and dipping its jaw open to make a tiny squeak. That was enough to silence the void once more as the other three finished their screeching. Whatever agreement they had appeared to reach, two of the foxes broke ranks from the third, leaving a clear path between Henry and the resolute fourth fox.

Rising to its paws, the fourth fox slowly strolled next to Henry. Its golden eyes were meeting his: a look of hunger filling them, but also something else. Something, perhaps... compassionate? Regardless, it was a disarming expression that didn't make him struggle or fear for his life.

The fox reached Henry's side and stood over him. Carefully, it bent down, touching its black nose to his, sniffing and snuffling the flecks of blood he had coughed over his bushy beard. Briefly, the fox's pink tongue flicked out, drinking in its coppery taste and forcing Henry to purse his lips as he would for an overly friendly dog. Hesitating for a moment, the fox eyes scanned its eyes up and down his broken form and settling back on his face. Snorting out a regretful sigh, it opened its maw wide, revealing dozens of jagged teeth hidden inside its blackened lips. Henry's heart leapt in shock, thinking he had finally reached the end and the fox was going to eat him, but instead, the fox gently clamped its jaws down across his mouth, fangs gripping either side of his face and held him still.

For a second, the fox held his face like that, its thick whiskers brushing under his nose and tickling it to the point where he wanted to sneeze, but then he could feel the fox pressing its warm moist tongue against his lips. Henry tried to struggle against the animal, but every muscle and bone in his body protested and was immobilized. Slowly, but surely, the fox worked its tongue between his lips, probing its way into his mouth to find more of that taste of blood it wanted so desperately. Suddenly, the fox stopped as soon as it touched Henry's tongue, and it simply held it there, still forming a perfect seal over his face while it locked them mouth-to-mouth.

With the fox covering half of his face, Henry found it difficult to breathe, having only his nose unblocked to keep himself from suffocating. As the fox's saliva slowly mixed with his, there was an odd numbing sensation in his mouth, making the whole experience more bizarre and terrifying. He wanted to push the fox off of him. He wanted to get up and leave. He wanted Redford to come back with the medical team. He wanted to not die!

The fox shifted its tongue deeper toward the back of his throat, and then jerked its head back, like it had just gobbled something up. Henry felt his lungs collapse, paralyzed by the same jolt the fox received. He tried to gasp for air again, but his breath had been sucked out, passing over his lips as if it were a semi-solid lump. Breaking its grip on his face, the fox stepped back and licked its muzzle while Henry tried to regain his ability to breathe again.

With a sudden surge, he drew his breath again as easily as ever, filling his lungs with air once more without obstruction. Turning his head toward the fox, he was about to shout at it to leave him, but his voice caught in his throat from shock and terror. The fox's eyes had changed! Its golden orbs were shimmering with a purple fire that sent a cold shiver down his spine and made him want to scream and flee. Even though Henry didn't believe in the supernatural, there was nothing natural about that flame. It scintillated with a brilliance that could only be called magical.

Finally, he found his voice. “What... was... that?" he gasped and panted, still trying to catch up after the fox broke from its ministrations on his face. The fox drooped its ears until they were flat at the side of its head, and then it yipped at the other three foxes. They turned around and darted into the forest, with the fourth trailing behind them, leaving Henry alone once more.

A weary, burning sensation started building in Henry's chest, as if he had finished sprinting a full mile. He coughed again, still free of the stabbing pain of his broken ribs, but now his heart was racing faster, and a fever was building under his skin. Feeling a faint tickle of fox drool dripping through his facial hair, he lifted his ungloved hand to wipe it away. To his horror, his beard came off in his hand as if it was merely a clump of shavings resting on his chin.

“What the hell?" he said aloud, holding the fistful of wiry black hair in the air in front of his gaze. Frantically, he tossed aside the wad of beard and began to tug at every corner of his face, trying to find any that stayed attached to his skin. All of it was already lying on his neck before he even brought his hand to his face. “What the hell!" he shouted, but this time his voice came out higher pitched, like something was caught in his throat.

That was no normal fox. It had done something to him, and now his hair was falling out! The cold light of its magical flame looked like a curse. Realization started to dawn on him: those foxes were why the entire jobsite had been impossible to work on. They were behind all of it! Magic was the only possible explanation! Not even Team six would be dumb enough to mistake a rock for a tree if magic wasn't involved. As soon as Redford got back, he would have to tell him! That is, supposing he would believe him that magical animals were running around these woods.

His face began to ache, and he rubbed his hand against it, trying to rub off a dirty spot on his nose. To his horror, his hand collided with his lips two inches too soon. They were sticking out as far as his nose, which was getting darker and rougher by the second. Within another moment, he could see he had the start of a muzzle, and it was sprouting orange fur and long black whiskers.

HEEEELP! He shouted in a panic, but his voice only came out as a high-pitched bark that was muffled past the edges of the clearing.

Oh God, what's happening to me?! He whimpered and squealed, feeling the fur start to overtake his face entirely. His teeth suddenly fell loose in his mouth, each one pushed out by growing fangs and sharp molars. He twisted where he lay, trying to spit out his teeth before they fell into the back of his throat. That's when he realized his ears were rubbing against the ground, now having become pointed and covered with a layer of black fur.

He needed to scream, but he held back this time, not wanting to hear the sounds of an animal coming out of his mouth. Clasping his muzzle with his hand, he tried to twist himself around, feeling the pressure of the tree slowly releasing. All the pain in his body was gone, replaced by a throbbing ache as he slowly transformed into something no longer human. His vision blurred and refocused, now sharper, yet none of the colors were quite right. That's when he noticed the long black hooked claws jutting from his nail beds, and the rough patches on his palm and fingertips.

Finally, he did scream. A long shriek left his wide-open maw, sounding more like the air being slowly left out of a party balloon than any sound he could have made only minutes ago. He watched as his hand started to grow black fur over every knuckle and in between his fingers, then crawling up his wrist and disappearing under his flannel shirt at the wrist cuff. Soon, his fingers began to shrink and curl back into stubby digits of a paw as his thumb dwindled to a hooked dewclaw at the back of his lengthening palms. Under his still-gloved hand, he could feel his other hand undergoing the same changes, its new claws snagging its lining and his fingers no longer fitting correctly inside.

A furious itching swarmed down his neck and over his body, like ten-thousand ants crawling over him, and he knew a coat of animal fur was pushing itself out of every inch of skin covered by his clothes. His head swam as he could feel his body shrinking, and a pop in his shoulders set his forearms dangling in the air over his chest. As soon as the sensations ended, he looked down his muzzle at the white furry chest under his chin, now housed entirely in a cavern of his overalls and his plaid flannel shirt.

He had been turned into a fox.

Too stunned to move, he laid there for a full minute before trying to untangle himself from his clothes. Flailing around, he quickly found he still couldn't feel below his waist, but he was at least no longer being crushed by the tree. The stone it rested on was just enough space for his fox body to slide free, if he could only pull himself out of his shirt.

Each. Take side. Pull.

A voice of another fox rang out, its vocalizations suddenly making sense to Henry's mind.

You talked? He called out, still not quite comprehending what was happening around him. Tilting his head up, he saw the four foxes had returned. Two of them were approaching him while the one that had spoken stood back. In the distant rear, the one that had tongued him was trying to not pay attention to the other three.

Yes, we talk all the time, said the fox on his left.

Did you think we were yelling at each other because we like the sounds? Stated the fox on his right, sarcastically.

Dumfounded, Henry didn't know how to reply, but he didn't need to say anything. Both foxes grabbed the dangling shoulder straps of his overalls in their jaws and tugged. His light body, no longer pinned by the tree, was a simple task for the two foxes to move, using his denim overalls as a makeshift travois. It was a brief ride, and as soon as he was clear from the tree, the foxes released their pull handles.

Use Flame. Make better, commanded the first fox.

Flame? Henry asked, feeling the fur on the back of his neck rise as the animalistic voice left his muzzle. He was still lying on his back with his paws dangling over his chest and was in no position to start a fire.

She's telling you to use your magic to heal yourself, moron, the fox to Henry's right said.

Henry must have done something to look like a confused fox, because the other fox said, You have to focus real hard on something you want. Try wanting to be in perfect health! You've been through a lot, you don't want your wish to fall short, do you?

Being told he could do magic was the least impractical thing that had happened to Henry in the last five minutes, but could he really do magic now? That seemed as unlikely as being turned into a fox! Impossible as that was, he had just watched himself turn into an animal, so maybe he could. Closing his eyes, he did as he was instructed. A singular desire to be healthy and fully healed filled his mind. Slowly, his desire built in his chest until it reached a crescendo, then it burst forth from his eyes in a blue light that swirled in his vision for a moment, leaving him with a feeling of eudemonia in its wake. The blue light streaked out like ethereal ropes, wrapping themselves around his furry body, and flowing under his furry skin. He watched as the cavern of clothing his crumpled body rested in started to glow faintly while the magic worked its way through him. Every broken bone started to mend, and every nerve repaired itself, popping his ribcage into the correct vulpine shape, and restoring the feeling to his legs. There was a warmth to the light, and as it worked through him, relief and relaxation settled over his mind. He wasn't going to die today after all.

There you go, that wasn't so bad, said the fox to his left.

Don't go using the Flame all willy-nilly, the other fox chided. Foxes will live or die by how much they use it here, he finished.

Henry was listening, but he didn't respond. Everything was quickly becoming overwhelming, as the gravity of what had just happened was starting to weigh on him. That, and he felt something at the end of his body that was new, and he wasn't quite sure he wanted to see it. His head started to swim, and his stomach started to churn. Before he realized it, he was scrabbling to his paws and pulling himself out of his overalls to vomit. A slurry of digested eggs and sausage landed on the forest floor as he heaved it out.

The two foxes on either side of Henry jumped away from him in surprise, but the one on his left spoke up first. That does happen, from time to time, he admitted.

Don't you dare do that near one of our dens, warned the other with an angry warble.

Henry was still feeling lightheaded, but his senses were quickly returning to him. Shock gripped him once more as he realized he was standing naturally and comfortably on all fours, his legs now shrunk to springy digitigrade hind paws and a pair of knees that rested alongside his ribcage. Behind that, he saw the unmistakable poofy brownish-orange tail of a fox swaying gently with every move he made, and it was attached to him!

His stomach lurched again, and he heaved out a second smaller puddle of breakfast next to his first. A sour, bitter taste clung to his lips, and try as he might, he couldn't figure out how to spit it out. Instead, his impossibly long tongue flapped around his fangs and out the side of his muzzle.

Ew! Cried the fox on his right. Hastily, he retreated to the fallen tree and jumped on top of the trunk. Stop doing that! he screeched, lowering his head to his paws and dipping his ears back as he sank to the other side as if needing cover from a demolitions crew.

Finally, the fox in front of Henry spoke. Farmer fox. Go scout for more human. No need you here.

The fox on the tree yipped a thankful affirmative and scampered into the forest, wasting no effort to stay silent as he crashed through the ferns and other groundcover.

Turning to Henry, the fox spoke, not quite fully hiding her anger. Why Lumberjack in forest? We try keep human out!

Henry found the fox's speech to be oddly primal and had a hard time parsing what she was asking. A lumberjack in the forest shouldn't need any explanation!

Catching the look of confusion, the fox on his left spoke. She wants to know why you aren't with your group.

He tried to come up with a simple explanation for his actions this morning for the foxes, but in the middle of describing the plan to tug the trees with the Jeep, he could tell he had lost the attention of the other two foxes.

Before he could continue to answer their question, he was interrupted. No work. We break rope if try. No human allowed in forest. Human trespass. We make fox.

The fox's decree sent a shiver down Henry's spine, and he could feel the fur on his neck rise in response. If that was the rules these foxes lived by, then his entire camp was at risk of being turned into animals.

To his left, the fox chimed in. Honestly, I wish we didn't have to hold back. His gold eyes flickered with a reddened tint. I wanted to pick off loaners, but Scout Leader says we need to keep a low profile. All of these lands were ours before you showed up!

Henry's stomach churned again, but this time, a hollow empty sensation prevented him from spewing. He was in the midst of some very dangerous company, and fox or not, he needed to get back to his crew to warn them. His mind started to race with ideas to get away from these animals.

The silent, forlorn fox snorted in disagreement with the one next to Henry, but he didn't elaborate further. It was enough to catch the attention of their leader, and she turned around and opened her mouth wide to warble something at him, but Henry couldn't quite make it out. He was quickly finding communicating in the Fox language required more eye contact than English.

Taking advantage of the distracted foxes, Henry blurted out, Some of my friends were looking for me. I have to stop them from coming.

Aw! Do you have to? Whined the fox next to Henry. I was looking forward to having more playthings arrive. He put on a devilish grin as he wagged his tail.

The leader fox twisted her head around and gave the fox a dark look. Peddler Fox invite trouble. You no leader. Go find Farmer Fox.

Peddler Fox's ears dipped obediently, and he rushed off into the woods in the direction his cohort had moments ago. Scout Leader Fox sauntered up to Henry. Hurry, she said. Go find friends. Scout foxes will obey when I near. Maybe no follow rules if I far.

Henry thought he understood, but the important part was that he was being released. Testing his new quadrupedal legs, he waddled to the edge of the void and found he could move quite naturally and comfortably on all fours. Trotting into the tree line, he quickened his pace, drumming his paws rapidly on the soft earth beneath him. He started moving so fast that the air itself started to whiz past him and roar loudly in his ears. He was about to slow down from their discomfort when he realized he could angle his ears back to silence the air rushing into them. Onward he galloped until he reached the road, far faster than his human legs could ever have carried him.

The open air of the road stretched before him, no longer offering the safe covering of the canopy. It was then that he realized he had no idea how long it had been since he entered the forest. Frustratingly, the Jeep was still on the side of the road where he had left it, showing Redford had indeed forgotten he could drive it back to base for help, which also meant he would still be running along the road to HQ, making stopping him from returning all the more difficult. A second later, Henry realized that things were even worse than he thought. Four men were gathered on the opposite side of the Jeep and inspecting the deserted vehicle. It was his crew, and they were gesturing toward the marks on the trees he had left.

An overwhelming sense of danger jumped through Henry's mind, knowing what would happen if they followed his guiding marks. Without thinking, he jumped out onto the road barking, Guys! You have to get out of here! They want to turn everyone into foxes! He shut his mouth and didn't say anything more. Every word that came out of his mouth was a yappy bark and completely unintelligible to the human ear.

“We're probably too close to its babies," Alfred suggested, also looking apprehensive. “Either that, or it has rabies."

Henry snorted at the preposterous suggestion he had rabies, but to his crew, it probably looked like he was obstinately defying them to make them leave. He stood between the Jeep and the forest, head lowered and making sure no one got any closer.

Near the front of the car, Sam was reaching into his pack. The odor of stale dinner rolls wafted to Henry's black nose, giving him a good idea of what Sam was about to pull out for the yipping wild fox.

For all his bluster, none of his men seemed deterred by him standing there. An idea popped into his mind, realizing if he can't speak, he can still write. Just as he started to trace his furry paw across the dirt and gravel, Lou lifted his chainsaw out of the back of the Jeep, pulled the ripcord, and started revving it loudly, walking closer to Henry while brandishing the tool.

What did I say about chainsaw safety?! Yipped Henry in frustration, but his own voice was drowned out by the loud motor of the saw. Dipping his ears back to try to silence the loud motor, he held his ground, making sure none of his men thought about crossing the tree line. Only when Lou got close enough to lunge at him with the blade did he leap back into the woods, both for his own safety and to get away from the deafening machine with his sensitive ears.

Lou carelessly waved the chainsaw around in Henry's direction while the other three men piled into the Jeep. Bill turned the ignition and Lou backed off and jumped into the rear of the vehicle. Henry watched his friends leave from the safety of the trees, feeling his heart sink. Don't let Redford come back, he whimpered softly to the dust cloud they had left behind.

The trip back to the void was a silent one, though the sound of the chainsaw still rang in Henry's ears. Watching his crew not recognize him and then try to scare him off like a common animal disturbed him on a whole new level he never dreamed of. Not even his fluffy fox tail that trailed behind him felt so alien as seeing his friends and crew flee from him. He wondered what they were going to do tonight when they found him missing. Would they come back to this spot searching for him? What about Redford? How far had he run back to the longhouse, and would his crew find him?

Wafting on the air, Henry noticed the scent of another fox as he entered the void again. The fallen tree dominated the center of the clearing, and comically positioned next to it was his work clothing, as if someone had failed to construct a scarecrow with his lumberjack attire. Adjacent to the clothing sat the silent fox, waiting for Henry's return. They exchanged a meaningful glance, and Henry somberly strolled up to him.

They didn't recognize me, Henry whimpered to the fox, completely despondent. But I'm sure you knew that would happen, didn't you? He stated, rhetorically.

The fox nodded, and then busied himself looking off in the distance, displaying his disinterest in Henry's experience. It probably was old hat to him.

Henry continued talking anyway. You know, I was certain you were trying to eat me when I was trapped under the tree, he gekkered out, finding the idea humorous in the face of what happened instead. He saw the corner of the fox's lips pull back in a brief smile, also humored by the suggestion.

Satisfied that Henry wasn't angry, the fox rose to his paws and trotted toward the edge of the clearing. He stopped once he reached the tree line and silently looked back to him.

You want me to follow you? Henry asked with a whimper and a flick of his tail.

The fox nodded and then opened his mouth to speak. A familiar squeaky voice, laden with regret reached Henry's ears. Welcome to our forest, Hen.