PA 3.5: End of a Tail

Chapter I Part I

His heart was pounding in his ears, drumming with the footfalls, barely etching out the sound of confused pursuers yelling behind him.

"I d-don't know why you're doing this,"

He hadn't quit running, not since he got away from the school, and didn't have plans on stopping anytime soon, or really, any plans at all.

"But we can talk. I promise I'll listen f-fur as long as it takes!"

His pace slowed as the adrenaline ceased its pumping. He wasn't sure how long he had been on the move for or where he was going. The trees became barren, and the soil turned to dust as he ran.

"Did you do this?!"

He told his legs to move to the left just a second too late; crashing against a tree he couldn't summon up the strength to dodge.

"I guess not every dog is a good d-dog."

'Idiot,' he thought to himself, unable to register his legs limpening and the back of his head smacking against the coarse dirt. When his eyes opened, they were staring up at the black sky of the woods' dusk.

Patches' head hurt; he could feel warmth beginning to radiate from his forehead, then his right leg.

The tickle of blood was almost refreshing for his tired, numb body. The fluid stained his uniform pants and mottled white and black fur, running down slowly as it matted anything it touched.

Patches shut his eyes, taking deep and uneasy breaths as his body slowly came back under his control. After a few minutes, he felt his old thoughts returning to him and prayed he would fall unconscious; anything was better than the humiliation of his current solitude.

The dalmatian's grey eyes fluttered for a moment as he let them open again. The bright sun was staring down at him, being the needle-like sensation urging him to get up. Patches put a wavering paw on the floor, slowly righting himself.

His mind spun as he raised himself up from the dirt. Blood began to drip from his brow and onto his right eyelid, so he squeezed it shut.

"They turned their back on me," he muttered to himself, "I should've known. I should've known they w-would... I-" he stumbled on the constrictions of his throat, bitter ramblings unable to leave the pit of his stomach.

He stood there, facing the tree for a moment before his nose scrunched up against the bark. His mewling noises were pathetic; the claws on a chalkboard he silently swore never to hear again.

Patches tried to speak spite-laden insults, but could hardly let loose a gasp of breath before his throat contracted, and his face tightened once more. His legs quivered, then gave out as he sunk low to the roots of the tree.

The day's events flooded into a contemplative fugue; he had made it through the first period without managing to kill that annoying corgi, but then Coco disenchanted the collar. She knew what was going to happen, she wanted it!

When it came to second period, he was already brewing his awful plan; he just needed something to get rid of them all, to start the apocalypse and end what Angel had started.

However, being forced to sleep at Olive's house gave Patches a calm, warm feeling he couldn't stand. Every emotion they inflicted onto him burnt like a fresh scar now; in a moment of weakness, he allowed himself to be swept up with the sensations; ignoring the truth. 

He wrinkled his jowls in effort, tying his tear ducts up with muscle and skin. "Why? Why would you-" is all he managed to croak between sobs.

It was divine anointment that Angel so happened to be in the same class as Olive. Patches couldn't stop staring at the body-swapped cat and quickly turning away. He wanted to do... something, just anything at all.