murder mystery

Acacius' day started like any other, a gentle light flooding into his borrowed den and the scent of fresh carcass wafting in. His porcupines must have acquired him a meal - how generous! He peeled open his eyes to take in the sights, his blurry gaze focusing upon the corpse upon him on the floor and every muscle in his body growing still as he saw it to be a porcupine. His porcupine? The creature was so mangled it was near unidentified. Acacius stood up so quickly his head cracked against the den's shallow ceiling, a snarl tearing from his maw.

He did not linger to examine the corpse, tearing from the den and surveying the area outside it for any hints or clues. It was only one dead porcupine and he had two, where was the other, if that one was Prick or Poke? "Quiet, Pocus." He hissed to his side, lifting a paw to silence the imaginary friend. Ears twitched to catch any sound, his gaze intently focused as it swept the surroundings, but his nose caught the clue first. Nostrils twitching, his muzzle aimed downward toward the ground. There before him was a small trail of still fresh blood along with a few quills, broken and discarded.

Acacius threw himself into the trail, nose low to the ground and sniffing as he gave chase. Whatever had killed the first porcupine was surely onto the next and Acacius would save them before he lost two friends today. The trail went over hill and down into the valley, squiggling this way and that, behind trees and over large boulders. Still, Acacius pressed on.

As he neared where the blood began to come out in larger spurts, Acacius saw his enemy. A coyote with three quills still embedded in his muzzle, proof of his crimes. The boy threw himself forward toward it, giving no warning and out for blood. He snapped and barked his anger and hatred, chasing the predator for many lengths until it ducked into a nearby blood-scented den. Acacius followed hot on it's heels, corning the bastard at a dead end and beginning the real fight at last.

The coyote struck then, desperate to escape and finally prepared to fight the direwolf head on with no other option. Acacius felt it's fangs upon his shoulder briefly, though to bite must have caused the creature pain as it released him as quickly as it found hold. The quills still lodged into his flesh moved with each movement of the facial muscle - even in death, his porcupines had found a way to assist him. Acacius took the opportunity as it came, bringing his own sabered jaws to the coyote's scruff and not releasing as the coyote did. He tasted blood but held on tighter, squeezing the loose flesh and tugging it taut. His forepaws came up too, pressing against the smaller coyote's shoulderblade and pushing hard as he pulled with his teeth - aiming to rip and tear, to punish the predator for the assault he'd dare began on Acacius' family.

His teeth came free and with them, chunks of flesh and blood flew. The coyote screamed, too pained to care about the pain in it's face and snapping it's jaws again and again in an agonized rage toward Acacius. The skeletal marked boy stood strong, meeting the jaws with a bite of his own from above. He was careful to avoid the quills that still poked from the coyote's face, enclosing his jaws instead around the eye region and feeling as one punctured straight through the skull. The coyote began it's death throes and Acacius held firm, snarling louder the more the thing shook and flailed, until it's body grew still and Acacius grew silent.

He spat the corpse back onto the floor and kicked it hard with a paw, his anger not yet satiated. A noise from the outside of the den drew his attention and he wasted no time in redirecting his wrath that way, too. No sooner did he poke his head from the coyote's fouled den did his anger begin to fade, first into confusion and then into joy. There, before him, were his porcupines! "What the fuck??" Acacius exclaimed. The companions had the intelligence to look sheepish, apologetic even. "You've grown past what we can teach you in the art of healing." Prick began, speaking for his wife. "So we figured we'd start on your second chosen skill - fighting. Things began to make sense as they explained, telling Acacius how they had crafted the morning specifically to see what he was capable of. They had made him a trail to follow, given him an enemy to kill, and given him the confidence of his first real kill to understand that this was something he was capable of. Acacius knew he ought to be angry, but all the boy felt was the sheer relief that his companions were alive and well. "Please don't ever do that to me again." He told them both.

Word count: 836 words