May I start by saying to my fans (if I actually have any) please, please, please don't hate me for this.
This is a historical Chapter with a cliff-hanger ending, which I promise will be resolved late, and from the title I assume you can extrapolate what it is about. I should probably warn you that this chapter runs over the issue of homosexuality, which is very controversial at the moment. So read on if you want to or wait for the next chapter, as this issue only really becomes particularly prominent in part 2 of this story, which I will begin once I finish part one.
R&R plz
Chapter 12
Crash and Casey
The late-morning sun shone down from the clear blue sky above, its light reflecting off the thick layer of snow which coated each and every one of the trees in the forest. The beautiful white glow of the pale snowflakes combined with the welcome warmth of such good weather filled the atmosphere with the kind of positive energy that had been so lacking in the years gone by.
Birds soared through the sky twittering and chirping songs of merriment and joy, as the animals below ran and rolled about in the snow between the trees, each in there own way enjoying the spectacular beauty of such a magnificent day.
Casey sat in one of the powder-coated trees completely ignorant of the exuberant celebrations taking place around him but unable to sleep like a normal possum would during the day, mainly because of all the noise around him; so had begun silently reflecting on the past few months.
Almost two weeks had passed since he and his brother's favourite cousin and father figure had died; killed by a hawk before their very eyes and carried off to be devoured. Unfortunately for Casey, it had happened because Wilton had broken cover and put himself in immense danger just to save his little cousin after only just having tormented him with one of his all time favourite pranks.
Wilton didn't really choose favourite victims, only really whoever was in a situation that was ripe for an ambush, and both Casey and Eddie had spent lot of time with him playing around and having fun. It was just that he had just chosen a bad moment to pull a prank on Casey, who had still been very miserable after being teased by some other kids the previous day, and it wasn't just kids, everyone and everything seemed to have some weird hatred of him, all because of his slight difference. This difference was not physical, but it was still something that he had no control over and for some reason everyone seemed to despise it.
It hadn't really bothered him until mid last year when he had noticed that his sense of attraction was not exactly orientated in the way which most animals considered normal.
After confirming it with Wilton, who had been surprisingly kind and understanding about the whole thing, Casey had been very confused and unsure about what he was supposed to do about it, often considering himself a freak and barely able to stand being around the other males. This was mostly because of his inherent hatred of the feelings that he was unable to fight when he was around them, especially some of the more attractive adults, it just made him shiver with self-disgust.
Although Wilton had tried his best to get Casey to accept it, the only thing he could really give the confused kid was reassurance that he was very much normal in every way, and that it wasn't his fault that females were not in his interest.
Everything had been as close as possible to normal for Casey, at least until three months ago when Eddie had decided to spy on one of the private conversations which his brother often appeared to be having with Wilton.
If he had been only the slightest bit less self-controlled he would have jumped out of his hiding place, probably laughing his head off, and maybe then Wilton and Casey may have had a chance to stop him, but he had instead remained hidden throughout the entire talk. Waiting patiently until both Wilton and Casey had left the scene before breaking cover and running off to spread Casey's secret amongst the other animals.
The news had spread like wildfire through all of the herds in the valley, although most of them didn't know who Casey was and even less seemed to care, enough of the other kids had heard and had snapped it up as fast as possible and it was less than a week before he became the object of almost every joke and the victim of almost every prank, with only his mother, his sister, Ellie, Wilton and his young niece Sarah as friends to fall back.
Sure Wilton had pulled a prank on Casey every once in a while, but it had almost always made him laugh, and in that very last, fateful, prank, the only exception had been the fact that Casey had been so miserable. But now, because of it, he was alone, Wilton was dead, Sarah had disappeared and his mother and Ellie were far too busy trying to look after Eddie.
"Eddie," Casey growled, just the name of his brother infuriated him so much that it was often as much as he could do, not to attempt to murder the stupid snitch.
Casey had always blamed Eddie for everything that had gone wrong; to him it was all his brothers fault. If he hadn't been such a nosey menace and blabbed everything, Wilton would probably still be alive and Sarah would still be here, and both of them would still able to comfort Casey who had sunk pretty low without them.
Still grumbling incoherently he made the choice to leave the tree in which he had spent the first few hours of the morning and try to get a calming walk; thinking that maybe the feeling of cold snow on his feet might help to cool his temper.
It took him a while to begin walking properly after his legs had gone to sleep from sitting in the tree branch for far too long, but after massaging them a little to get some sensation back, he was on the ground in next to no time and walking slowly through the pleasantly chilly snow.
He often had to doge to the side to avoid groups of running, screaming kids who seemed to be playing a game of tag, where the person who was 'it' appeared to be wielding a nasty looking stick and attempting to whack the others with it as a tag.
There was no reason to envy them, Casey was actually just happy that no one appeared to have noticed him yet, either because he made sure to keep his gaze set firmly set toward the ground to avoid any eye contact, or they were all too preoccupied with this particularly nice day to care about him, or maybe, just maybe, they may have at last gotten over the whole Casey gay thing which his idiot brother had started more than two and a half months ago.
Although he had no particular destination in mind as he wandered through the tree covered snow drift, he was just happy to finally be able to walk around without anyone laughing and pointing at him, whilst asking him, mockingly, about who his current boyfriend was, and he was thoroughly keen to take full advantage of the very welcome moment of peace.
Wandering casually through the lightly spread woodland which grew near the centre of the valley, Casey happened upon a small stream. It was barely two metres wide and appeared to have melted almost completely, with the water flowing freely as it wound its way through the snowy forest; its smooth, glittering surface occasionally occupied by small lumps of half-melted ice as they floated with the current as it carried them away and out of sight.
There didn't appear to be anyone else around, in fact, it was perfectly silent save the occasional twittering of small birds flying between the white, lumpy branches of the snow coated trees which surrounded Casey, who made up his mind to stay and lie in the snow for a while. Flopping down in a small patch of sunlight about two feet from the stream, he just spread himself out and let the soft trickling sound of the softly trickling water sooth his nerves.
It wasn't long until the flood of negativity within his mind began to ebb away and, in the absence of any particularly positive memories or thoughts, it was instantly replaced by a state of emotional emptiness, a kind of blank state of mind which he embraced entirely as he shut his eyes and finally fell into a deep peaceful slumber.
Casey opened his eyes once more with an accompanying yawn; he soon noticed that it was clearly much later than he had previously thought, in fact it was very late in the afternoon now, several hours after he had fallen asleep, and he was no longer in a warm patch of sunlight.
Pulling himself up from the snow, which appear to have melted quite significantly since he first lay down there about three hours ago, he sat in the beautifully warm air, only now realising what all of the other animals had been on about this morning and loving the continued peace of this quiet haven he had found for himself, although he was a little unhappy that the cold hadn't killed him like he would have preferred.
'It would have been better if Wilton were still here though; I could've gone back and told him about this place and Eddie never have know about anything, if only,' Casey thought, letting out a small sigh as he stared into the brightly shimmering water of the stream, 'Oh well, maybe I'll sleep here tomorrow as well. It's nice and quite, plus there's no one around to tease me. Come to think of it, why should I even leave, that stream looks nice and there's bound to be something to eat around here, it's perfect for me. In fact I now officially declare myself leaving home and living here."
He smiled happily, now deciding that he was never going back regardless of what his mother wanted, and feeling pretty thirsty after his six-hour doze, he got up and walked over to the stream and began to drink.
The water was fresh and cool, tasting just as clean as it looked as he lapped more and more into his mouth, it was so good it almost had a taste, and once his thirst had been sufficiently quenched, Casey stood up and began his search for something to eat.
Of course he had to be cautious now that he was on his own; remembering how Wilton had had screamed as the hawk tore into his body being eaten was definitely not a pleasant experience, and Casey had no intention of it ever happening to him.
It took him only a few minutes to find what he was looking for, which came in the form of a large, edible, spider that he found lurking amongst the leafless branches of a small sapling, growing just a few metres from the stream where he had been sleeping.
Although it was very crunchy and tough in some parts, the small creature was surprisingly juicy for something of its size and Casey finished it within seconds, making sure not to eat the head if only to avoid the off chance of poisoning himself, and, still very peckish after having not eaten in quite a while, he proceeded to search the surroundings for a few more snacks. Turning up one more spider and a couple of strange looking, but surprisingly tasty, insects; all of which he hastily devoured.
After his evening breakfast and with a full night ahead of him as the sun set behind the glacial walls of the valley in which he lived, Casey occupied himself by getting acclimated with what he now called his home.
Thankfully no other animals appeared to spend the night in his new area, so he assumed it was safe for now, and thanks to the many widely spaced trees and shrubs he had plenty of places to sleep during the day, well when the leaves grew back anyway. In terms of hiding places, should any predators come around in search of a quick meal, especially hawks, Casey discovered several small holes around the place, mostly within the roots of some of the larger trees, of which he chose about three as great spots for him to sleep in should his more arboreal sleeping preference prove too dangerous at any point in the future.
For food he took note of several small, usually dead or leafless shrubs and trees where large groups of insects and arachnids appeared to congregate at certain times during the night.
Although he was unhappy to find that there were no trees in the area which appeared to be bearing fruit; he blamed the Ice Age for that, he was very happy to find that the small stream wasn't just drinkable but shallow enough for him to swim in, should any of the following days prove hot enough to warrant such an activity and with the way things were going right now, it certainly seemed possible.
All in all, he deemed his new found home perfect for him, and best of all there was no one else around to tease or torment him, especially his brother, whom he sincerely hoped never to see again.
However he did someday hope that someone would appear and hopefully then he might actually be able to have a real friend, something which he had lost when both Wilton and Sarah were forever removed from his life, and maybe there might even be chance of something more, even though he knew that for someone in his position this would be especially difficult, he could still hope that there was someone out there for him.
He knew that for the transition from his old life to be complete, Casey needed to change the one give away which could completely ruin his new found peace should anyone recognise it and this was of course his name, which needed some adjustment immediately just on the off chance that any of the other kids, or worse, his family, started poking around his home, in search of him.
This wasn't as easy as he had thought, as most of the names which popped into his head were either already in use by some of the other kids, not different enough or just not right for him, but he did eventually come across something, a nickname which Wilton had used whenever Casey needed cheering up and it would always bring a smile to his face, just like it did now. Not just because it reminded him of happier times, but because it was everything that he needed; it was simple, it was unique and it was perfect for his new life because there was no way that anyone, family or foe would ever be able to recognise it.
Sitting below a small tree, chewing idly on a small insect, and listening to the crickets as they filled the night air with the sounds of their chirping, Casey smiled, he knew that this was, it just had to be, the start of something great.
In the months and eventually year that followed, Crash's new found freedom gave him a whole new lease on life, because at last he could truly be himself.
When night fell he would wake up, jump to his feet and set about doing whatever he pleased.
Normally his first activity would be running down to the stream for an evening drink, after which he would search the surrounding shrubs for anything that he could pig out on, and then, thoroughly stuffed with breakfast, he would laze on the ground next to stream letting his stomach settle as he brainstormed ideas for things to do throughout the night.
Most of the time he would bounce around the surrounding area, often stopping to pull pranks on any animals which he happened to find lying around, usually sleeping soundly until he woke them. He couldn't really help this habit of mayhem, it just seemed to be his way of getting back at the world which had been so damn cruel to him, as well a great way to vent his long held anger and frustration.
Tonight was particularly special because he now found himself hiding in a small, surprisingly leafy, bush and looking upon a small family of beavers who lived downstream of his own home, one of whom he actually recognised as one of the many children who had tormented the hell out of him during a time that he now tried very hard to forget. A mischievous smile had spread across Crash's face as he gazed upon the unsuspecting family, he just couldn't decide on any one way to prank them that would satisfy him.
He could try to roll them into the stream, but that seemed a little too risky even for him, or maybe he could try to scare them by whispering creepy things into their ears; that would probably give them nightmares, the thought of which filled him with malicious glee.
It took him several minutes to finally settle on something; simply sneaking up to the now adolescent beaver who had caused him so much misery and just head butting him as hard as he could, straight in the crotch. Admittedly it was a bit crude and probably a little bit sketchy morally, but he had been longing for a chance at revenge for so long now and this just seemed far too perfect an opportunity to waste, it wasn't even going to be difficult at all.
After quickly planning his attack, Crash slowly edged his way around the beavers, to a small shrub where he had a perfectly straight line toward his target, lined it up and dismissing any thought of sneaking, he charged out of the bushes with a loud rustling sound, thankfully not waking any of the other beavers, and headed straight toward his target, slamming head first into the unfortunate animal. After which he fled into the bushes again, before the beaver could even react to the sudden impact and, watching from the bushes, Crashed smiled wickedly as the young beaver woke up, grabbed his crotch and began to roll around on the ground screaming wildly out of intense pain and surprise; a very clear indication to Crash that his charge had landed right on the money.
Within seconds the beaver's parents and siblings were awake, his father trying to hold him still and ask him what had happened whilst the mother and the other children gazed around at their surroundings searching for any outside reason for this sudden, very unpleasant occurrence. None of them seemed to notice Crash who was still hiding in the bushes, lying face-down in on the ground, practically crying with tears of laughter, his own hands clamped tightly around his muzzle desperately trying to hold it shut and hold in the hysterical laughter that was trying to burst forth into the night air and reveal his position.
It wasn't easy to contain his delight over one of his most hated enemies rolling around on the ground was just so unbelievably entertaining, although it was a little sadistic on his part to be enjoying the beaver's pain so much, just the thought of what this guy and several other kids had put him through was more than enough to wash away any tiny shred of regret that even came close to surfacing within his mind.
Try as he might to hold it in, the constant surge of self-impeded laughter was just too much to contain no matter what he tried, and with a loud snort as the force of the air itself escaped his mouth and nose, forcing his jaw open despite the secure grip he had had been trying to hold and Crash was rolling around, himself, except, unlike the beaver who was actually in pain, he was in the grips of a fit of wildly uncontrollable laughter, which echoed from his hiding place into the still night air. Rising over the agonised shouts of the beaver and his surprised parents.
In an instant all eyes focused on the rustling bush in which Crash was hiding, only just now managing to gain control over himself, and as the father beaver started toward it, Crash knew that it was time to go; quickly breaking cover and shooting away into the night, still laughing joyously.
Still sporting a broad grin on his face, Crash dashed across the snow, between the trees and bushes, and at the same time gazing around for a good place to hide, making sure to keep low on all fours in an effort to limit his visibility to any predator that may also have been woken by the ruckus.
He couldn't help laughing out loud at every one of the angry calls and insults that were being shouted at him by the furious beaver who tore through the powder in hot pursuit of the wily possum which proving to be much faster than him and infuriatingly hard to keep track of.
About twenty seconds into the chase, Crash spotted a large, wide oak-like tree about thirty or forty metres ahead of him, which he immediately set off toward, already knowing exactly what to do when he reached it was simply run around to the other side, where the beaver couldn't see him, and climb up into the safety of the branches.
It was especially perfect as the beaver wouldn't be able to see him, even if the tree didn't have any leaves on it at the moment, because beavers were daylight animals and the angry father would have no chance of spotting a possum hiding amongst the branches at night without the night vision which Crash's species luckily possessed.
It was a stretch but Crash made it, panting desperately for the air which he had suddenly found very lacking with every breath giving very little, if any respite to his oxygen starved muscles.
As he reached the tree he hurriedly attempted to run around to the other side, turning a little to sharply and rolling a small distance in the freezing snow before turning over onto his feet and tearing off toward the tree again. Although he was still watching where he was going; in his panicked, oddly cheerful, oxygen starved state his focus became completely centered on the tree, ignoring any other obstacle or animal that might have been in the way, subsequently running headlong into something standing only about a foot from base of the trunk. The impact itself, slammed the soft furry animal into the tree trunk behind, and dazed Crash, who merely grabbed who or whatever it was and unceremoniously threw it into the snow next to him and out of his way before tearing upwards into the branches and escaping the infuriated beaver dad.
"Ouch, hey wh-" the animal began in a voice muffled by a face-full of snow, but Crash was in far too much of hurry to listen or even take one second to look at who or what it was that he had run into as he hastily disappeared amongst the snowy branches above.
Clinging to one of the inner most branches, attempting to remain as still as possible, Crash clamped a hand around his mouth to stifle the sound of his desperate panting for air and watched the ground to see what would happen now.
For the first few moments the small furry mammal on the ground remained very much alone, first pulling his face out of the snow and shaking his head to rid itself of the snowflakes which still clung to its fur before standing up and gazing around, most likely trying to see where Crash had gone.
It wasn't hard for him to see that, the animal was a young possum, not much older than himself, eleven or twelve at most, and judging from the tone of the voice it had used when Crash had knocked it into the tree just moments beforehand, the possum was definitely male.
"Grr, where did that damn overgrown rat go?" shouted the beaver as he too reached the tree, also pretty breathless, probably more so than Crash judging by how unfit he looked.
After taking a quick look around, the angry father began to wander around to the other side of the tree where Crash had chosen to run up into the branches and incidentally where the other young possum was still standing and puzzling over what had just happened. All the while staring up at the branches, carefully scrutinizing them for any sign of movement that might indicate where his fugitive had hid.
"You!" the beaver cried furiously, noticing the clearly confused young possum standing at on the other side of the tree and beginning to march toward him, all the while sporting a livid glare, "It was you wasn't it? Cowardly little rat!"
"What do you mean, what did I do?" asked the bewildered young possum, taking several steps backward, wide eyed and terrified as the enraged stranger drew closer.
Crash watched from his hiding place amongst the tree limbs and sniggered, perfectly happy with the fact that this kid was gonna take the rap for his prank. After all the only thing the beaver was gonna do was yell at him for a while, maybe shove him into the tree or something, but that was about all a herbivore of his size was ever likely to do. Plus this was especially great because meant that Crash's gag would catch two animals in one go, and that would be a new record for him.
"You know what you did to my son!" the beaver shouted, drawing nearer and nearer to the scared and confused kid.
"B-But I didn't do anything I was just-just hanging around here, then-" the little possum began, but was cut short as the beaver reached him and in one quick movement, shoved him against the tree and held him by his chest fur, glaring furiously into the innocent creature's terrified eyes.
"Don't lie, you're the one who kicked my son," the beaver growled quietly to the possum, as he struggled vainly to free himself.
Crash once again found himself using his hands to stifle an impending outburst of laughter, this time it wasn't just because of how hilarious this was and how glad he felt that it wasn't him down there, but also because of the fact that the beaver clearly didn't know that Crash had definitely head-butted his son a lot harder than any kick could strike him. In fact, with any luck the beaver's son was probably still rolling around moaning and wondering whether it would still be possible for him to have kids of his own anymore.
Although Crash was interested to see just how angry this father was over such a small joke, c'mon he was acting like Crash had just beat his son to within an inch of his life.
"It's night and he was asleep, and you sneak up and hit 'em, especially in that area, why'd you do that, eh? Thought it was funny?" the beaver brought his face so close to the whimpering kid's that their noses were almost touching, and Crash actually had to climb a little further down to hear what was being said "Or maybe cause ya liked it, eh, That's right I know who you are."
Crash froze, his smile beginning to fade as he began to realise exactly who this beaver was referring too, clearly not realising that he actually had someone completely different which was very weird considering some of the differences but then again that's daylight vision for you.
"We thought, no wait, we hoped a hawk had snatched you up for lunch," continued the beaver, twisting his handful of the poor kids fur, "But now you come back and you actually attack my son, well, that was a big mistake, you little FREAK!"
"Wait, I'm not Ca-" the possum began pleadingly, trying even more furiously to break free of the beavers grip, but he never had a chance to finish, as this full grown, adult male beaver threw a full fledged punch straight into the kids stomach and as he finally let go, the poor young possum slid down the tree and lay whimpering in the snow.
Crash was horrified, any trace of amusement he had had in the suddenly violent situation was completely erased by this one outrageous overreaction by the angry father, who actually proceeded to beat the kid a little more; throwing a few more punches in and always in hitting and this went on for several minutes until he stopped for a moment to rest, after which he gave the whimpering possum a powerful kick in the centre of his body and continue to beat him.
Without even taking a moment longer to think about what he was doing, Crash leapt from the branch to which he was clinging and landed with a soft thud as he hit the snow, causing the beaver to pause his monstrously over the top act of revenge and turn around to view the new arrival.
"What the heck," the surprised beaver cried, bringing his attention away from the innocent child and toward the other newcomer, who was incidentally another young possum, "Where did you come from?"
Crash didn't answer, but charged straight at the beaver with his teeth bared, growling furiously and, completely blinded by adrenalin and animal rage, he leapt straight at the surprised beaver the moment he was close enough, grabbing onto him and beginning to sink his teeth into everything that he could reach; if this guy thought it was fun to beat up an innocent possum, he had another thing coming.
Within seconds this fight became an all out death-brawl, Crash wasn't even thinking about anything that he was doing, with nothing in his mind consumed entirely by burning fury. He couldn't even feel the punches that the much larger beaver was constantly throwing into him, often knocking him away completely only to leap straight back into the fight again.
On and on it seemed to go, until finally a desperate punch was thrown, a sickening crack echoed into the night and Crash was sent flying.
Landing in the snow, breathless and bleeding profusely from a very badly broken nose, he could hear the beaver seizing his chance to escape and running away as fast as he could and Crash could only hope that the vicious bite marks he had left on the him would serve as a continuing reminder of what possums were really capable of, well if there was nothing else left to do.
As his senses began to return Crash was suddenly hit by a tremendous wave of intense agony from his surprisingly severe injury. Quickly rolling to his feet, he attempted to stifle the bleeding by pressing his hand onto his nose, crying out and falling to the ground, as another surge of pain erupted from his face. From what he had felt when his hands had pressed against his muzzle, it wasn't just his nose that was broken, but the entire top section of his jaw had felt jarred.
He knew that this was serious, in fact this was known among possums and almost any other animal with a muzzle of any kind as a mortal injury, and he also knew that his chances of survival were very slim at best unless he managed to get help.
Getting slowly to his feet, he attempted to stagger toward the tree as large droplets of blood fell in quick succession from his nose, but he only managed to take a few very weak steps before falling forward into the snow again, blood pouring out from both his nose and beginning to trickle ominously from his mouth as well.
He was far too weak to roll over onto his back let alone stand up again; that last effort to walk had completely drained him, and all he could do now was lie in the snow as the blood dribbled down his badly broken muzzle and into the icy powder, staining it crimson red, just waiting for the inevitable.