Trails to Tails (Mar 2020)

The Green Acres State Trail was beautiful! Scott was so glad Carlos had twisted everyone’s arms to bike down it with him. Even under the canopy, tops of the trees rising like distant towers, the warmth of the sun was true. The wind hummed in and out of song. Scott hoped his hair wasn’t blowing into Sherry’s face behind him.

Most relaxing of all wasn’t the lack of people, but the lack of signs of people. They hadn’t met a soul coming down the trail, though Tom occasionally threw his voice to invent someone in the trees. Without litter or trash peppering the grass, the greens and browns and grays of the trail looked deeper, healthier.

It was like they all had taken a turn down a road to a world slightly different from their own. No power lines; no shouting. It was easy to forget the road beneath his bike was there. It was–

Bump.

“Huh?”

Scott’s tire swerved.

He tried to correct, but his bike was tilting. Oh well. He took his gloved hands off the handlebars, smiled, and let himself fall. That smile broke when he landed hip-first, ends of his hair getting caught and tugged between it and the trail. He rolled before the handlebars could punch him.

The clang of the frame hitting the path mingled with the squeals of his friends’ bikes. Tom swore. “You alright, dude?”

Scott pushed himself up and swept his hair out of his eyes. “Yep!” His rolling water bottle bumped into his feet.

“How’d you even manage to wipe out from a pebble?”

Scott looked for the rock. It couldn’t be that small, right?

It really was that small.

“Maybe it liked me.” Scott righted his bike, put the water bottle back in its holder, and climbed into the seat.

The four of them started biking again, but the trail was rougher than before. And rougher it got. Scott couldn’t quite keep up with his friends; his pedals demanded more and more torque. Maybe the gears got misaligned? He leaned down.

That faint whistle in the wind was the hiss of his front tire giving up.

“Uhh, guys, I got a flat!”

Sherry, Tom, and Carlos slowed and turned back.

“Are you serious?” Tom’s arms exploded. “How?”

“Guess I like my tires a little too thin. Just keep going. I’ll catch up with you in a few minutes.”

“Are you sure?” asked Sherry. “What if your repair stuff sucks?”

“I’ll be good. I’ve got my phone on me.”

“Well, see you in a bit,” said Carlos.

Him and Tom biked away. Sherry stared at something in the woods before going. Was she looking at bringing another raccoon home? Her house was practically a zoo.

Scott dragged his bike over to the trees; kneeling on the path would be uncomfortable. His friends’ gears got quieter until their clicks merged with the wind.

About fifteen feet into the growth, Scott pulled his bag off his back and propped himself and the bike next to a tree. His helmet wasn’t a pillow, but it stopped the bark from imprinting the back of his head.

Something orange and white caught his eye. A fox! From behind the tree it came, then strutted in a circle around him and the bike.

Scott crouched. “Aww, what a cute little guy.”

“Gal.”

Scott’s heart leaped. Who was here? His eyes scanned but couldn’t find anyone. No footsteps either, except for the light patter of the fox.

“I’m not mad or anything.” The voice came from the ground, but all Scott saw was the fox looking up at him.

“Was that you?”

“Of course it was.”

The fox was talking. An animal. Talking.

Scott took his helmet off and rested his forehead. Sweat ran down his hair.

“How… how are you talking?”

“Never met a vixen before?”

“What? Yes, of course I have. You foxes are everywhere. I’ve had to deal with two or three of you tearing up my yard in the past month alone.” He was talking back to this animal. The high of biking had to be getting to him. Not enough oxygen getting to his brain.

“Did you ever try asking them to stop?”

“Well, no–”

The vixen looked him up and down. Her face was unchanging. What was she thinking?

“Hey, I’m sorry. I’ll be out of your hair in a minute. Once I get this tire fixed, I’ll be on my way.” Scott peeled his gloves off. He couldn’t tell if the sweat was warm or cool. Was he getting sick, and not just in the head?

The vixen took a look around his bike, then stuck her nose against the frame and gave it a sniff. And a lick. “What’s this?”

“My bike? It’s how I get around.”

The vixen gave the back wheel a long sniff. “Why not use your legs?”

“I can go faster on my bike, and it doesn’t kill my legs like running does.”

The vixen tilted her head. “How can the bike be better? It doesn’t have legs. How is anything supposed to move without legs?” She went back over to the wheel, sticking her nose between the spokes. “And these thin bones! Won’t they snap when you sit?”

“They don’t.”

“What are they made of?”

“I’m not sure.”

“You don’t even know what the bike is? Oh, you’re a silly human. Let me put some sense into you!” She walked toward him. Prowling. Did foxes prowl?

“Hey, hey, I’m sorry. As I said, I’ll leave in a minute–”

The vixen rubbed into Scott’s leg, like she was trying to knock it over.

“Hey! Stop that!” Scott pushed the vixen away, getting a huge clump of orange fur on his hand.

The vixen came back and continued rubbing, undaunted.

Scott wiped his hand on his shirt, but the fur stuck. The fur on his leg where he had been rubbed didn’t come off either. Oh well. He reached for his bag.

Rip. The strap tore where his finger touched it. Wait, why was his hand so dark? And blurry… He rubbed his eyes, doing nothing but spreading some of the fur on his face. But that fuzzy patch was growing. He stood up, which make the vixen dance on his shoes. His feet and leg tingled. Oh no, was he allergic to foxes? He needed to wash his face and hand off. He grabbed his water bottle, but emptying it over his head now would be a waste with the vixen here and ready to rub more fur on him right after.

He ran toward the trail – no, tripped toward it, bottle flying out of his hand to the side. His shoes were five sizes too big. His hands broke his fall, but the fuzzy one made a sickening snap. That darkness was fur… wasn’t it just orange? His fingernails were claws. Claws?

What was happening to him? He rubbed his other hand through his hair, and it came out in blonde clumps, with some orange mixed in. His heart pounded. His skull pounded. The fuzzy feeling had spread over his head and was even going down his neck.

“Please, help me…” Talking was tough. His tongue was too long for his mouth.

“I am!” The vixen jumped on his back and walked around. Her claws poked through his shirt, and soon, his skin was exposed to the breeze. If it even was skin anymore. “Roll over, please!”

He did, weakly. He stared up at the trees. Were they getting taller?

The vixen tore a hole through his shirt, then pressed her paw into his heart.

Scott’s breath left him, and he was… warm. Something hugged him, squeezing his panic out.

Room to think.

He propped himself up. The fuzzy hand squished a little against the ground, like his gloves were still on. Scott checked his hand, flipping to see the front and back, then at his leg. The splotch of fur there grew at the edges. Waves of dark fur rose from his ankles. He knew what the vixen was doing now; she was turning him into a fox!

“Feeling better?” she asked.

“Actually, yes!” The hug got tighter. His feet slipped out of his shoes and retreated toward his shorts.

“I always forget I need to start with the heart when changing humans.”

“Hold on. Before you change me further…” Scott tried to take the rest of his shirt off, realized his fuzzy hand no longer had a thumb, then pulled it off with his human hand. He kicked his shorts off and tore his underwear apart. Orange fuzz creeped up the sides of his chest from his back, and a fist-sized patch of white covered his heart. “Ready.”

The vixen licked Scott’s ears. Sound stopped as fur covered them, then came back as she licked the top of his head. He searched with his human hand and found his ears up there. The vixen took the opportunity to rub her face all over the arm, converting it to brown and orange. Some nibbling at the hand molded it into another paw.

“Hold your breath!” The vixen turned around and wiggled her tail over his nose and mouth. They stretched outwards, continually scrunching until settling. Scott explored his new muzzle with his paws, half-expecting the bone underneath to give way and fall inwards.

Finally, the vixen rolled like a tumbling log down his chest, replacing the remaining skin with white and orange. His arms and legs creaked and snapped, palms lengthening and forelimbs shrinking. There was no way he would be able to stand like a human anymore.

The vixen stood eye-to-eye with him. Scott looked down. Past his giant nose were the remains of his clothes, now the size of a tarp.

Scott took his time walking around the nearest tree. He had never felt odd walking as a human, but walking as a fox was… effortless? His weight was distributed across more legs, and the minor jitters and pains he was accustomed to never came. He did feel somewhat front-heavy, though. Something should be balancing his back…

“Aren’t I supposed to have a tail?” he asked.

“Oops! I seem to be forgetting everything today.”

The vixen rubbed against the base of Scott’s spine. There was a pulling, ticklish sensation. Scott turned to watch, amazed the rest of his body was behind him instead of below him. Like a long balloon, orange fur blew into being, stopping with a tuft of white.

Scott’s tail swished. His heart swelled. He continued his circle around the tree, tail sweeping through the grass. “This is amazing!” How could he have moved at all before without falling over or blowing out a knee or ankle? “How long does it last?”

“As long as you want.”

That would depend on if being a fox really could be a replacement for his bike. “Want to race?”

“‘Race’?”

“Chase each other and see who is faster.”

“That sounds fun! Let’s start!”

“Not yet.”

Scott and the vixen walked out. His pawpads were better than any glove or shoe; the bumps of the trail didn’t dig into his feet, yet he could make out their texture, and he sure wouldn’t be getting sweat trapped in his fur.

“Now we–”

The vixen darted down the trail.

“Hey! I didn’t say ‘start’! Oh, never mind.”

Scott started to sprint – except, he no longer knew how to. Did he swing his left legs and right legs as pairs? Front legs and back legs? Was each step actually a bounding leap?

After some getting his legs tangled, Scott figured out what to do, but the vixen was already smaller than his nose. Maybe he could catch up!

Scott ran. He wasn’t sure what to do with his tail, so he kept it straight out to be more aerodynamic.

There was feeling the of air ruffling your clothes, and then there was feeling of air blowing through your fur. Running was no longer just a skill; it was an act of defiance toward the breeze, saying, I’m going to make you go around me, and there’s nothing you can do about it.

The trees zipped by. Scott was short and low to the ground, but he could still eyeball how much distance there was between each tree. This was definitely faster than biking, and if he was right, on some roads, he would be breaking the speed limit.

And, somehow, the vixen was still faster!

Scott was getting warm, but he couldn’t sweat. All he could do was huff and pant. He wore out and stopped. “Hey!” He caught his breath. “You win!”

The vixen darted back. She was panting too, but not as much. “That was fun! We should do it again.”

“Maybe a bit later. That tired me out.”

“But you barely ran!”

“I know; I know. It feels like I’ve never ran a day in my life.”

“Why do you think that? You’ve only had this body for a few minutes, silly!”

But she was the one who… ah, forget it.

Scott made his way back to the spot where he had changed, the vixen following. Most of the shreds of his clothes had been blown away, so he picked a flat patch of grass to lie down on.

“Still feeling good?” asked the vixen.

“Yip. Er, yep. Being a fox is wonderful.” It sure beat biking. Oh, right… “Can you dig around in my pants for me? I was supposed to call my friends if anything happened.”

The vixen cocked her head.

“I have a phone. I can talk at it, and the person I’m calling hears me through their phone.”

The vixen pondered. “So you don’t need to yell?”

“Nope. It doesn’t matter how far apart we are; we can still talk to each other.”

“That sounds useful. I’m guessing you don’t know how it works, either, like your bike?”

“Kind of. Actually, no, not really.”

She didn’t seem upset about that this time.

The vixen pulled Scott’s phone out with her teeth. “This?”

“That’s it.”

The screen lit. The vixen dropped the phone. “Who’s it calling?”

“Nobody. You probably pressed the lock button with your teeth. It turns the screen on and off,” he added, seeing her confusion.

The vixen pushed it the rest of the way toward him.

“Thanks.” Scott pressed the button with his paw then swiped the screen. The text jiggled a bit, but it didn’t unlock. He tried again, making sure only one pawpad was touching the screen. “It doesn’t like my paws.”

“Your friends will come back here anyway, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Want to surprise them when they come?”

Maybe. “What are you thinking?”

“You’d think he’d have the sense in him to let us know where he was before the sun starts setting,” said Tom, biking.

“Maybe he started back the wrong way?” asked Carlos.

“Don’t be dumb.”

Sherry got off her bike and stared into the woods.

“See something?”

“I think so.”

“You either do, or you don’t.” My, was he ornery. They all were a little ornery, but him especially so.

Sherry pointed. “Is that his helmet?”

Tom and Carlos dismounted and parked their bikes. Sherry continued wheeling hers as they walked closer.

“What–Oof!” An orange ball of fuzz came out of nowhere and darted into Tom’s chest. “Get this thing off me!” It – a fox – tore into his shirt. “Get it…” He let himself fall over and smiled. Not that wicked smile he always had, but something… kind? From Tom? The fox danced over his body, orange and white hairs sprouting where it stepped.

Another fox leaped at Carlos, doing the same thing. He giggled and cuddled his fox. His hands blackened, and were those paws they were becoming?

If that thing was Scott’s helmet… “Scott?” guessed Sherry.

The fox transforming Tom looked up. “Hi! Sorry I couldn’t call you guys!”

Tom and Carlos were too lost in their own worlds to respond coherently.

Sherry cupped her hands together. She could finally have the chance… “How’d you do it? Who’s the other fox?”

“She’s the one who changed me. Anyone she or me rubs against turns into a fox. And them too, once they’re also foxes.”

Sherry jumped up and down. “Can I be a bear?”

“I think I might know one that can turn you into one,” the other fox said.

Exciting! She couldn’t wait. Tom and Carlos seemed to have calmed down; if they were anyone to go by, it looked like just being an animal was such a happy experience. Any more, and she might just implode.