# Maybe Next Time

By: TheDragonBoy

## Content

*huff* *huff* *huff* “Ah!” *huff* *huff* “Ug-” *huff* *huff* *huff* *huff*

You dash as quickly as your little legs could possibly carry you, heart pounding as hard as your feet, breath rushing through your body as you rush through the underbrush of the forest floor. You zig past fallen branches, zag around shrubs and hop over roots, darting around in a blur.

But they’re still behind you. You can hear them. Somehow, even over your own ragged sounds you can hear them. They’re right on your tail, keeping up with every move, getting closer.

*huff* *huff* *huff* “Ugh! No-!” *squeak*

You curse your own body as it betrays you, but even in the moment you know it did no such thing. You ran as long as you could, until you were too tired to keep focus and strength, the kind you need to spot and dodge over stones as fast as they pop into your path. You feel one of your rear feet catch on the rough rock, and before you even hit the ground, you know it’s over.

Your light body plows a small divot into the dirt, as all the momentum you’d been keeping up for the last few seconds disappears. By the time you turn around, the only thing you really see is a flash of orange fur, and then the blood red of a hungry, carnivorous maw.

*chomp*!

*squeak*!

*nomf* *slorp* *glik* *glik* *squelch* *GLRK*

You feel the fox’s teeth pierce you, and a terror shoots through your body, clamping your eyes shut. And then hardly a moment later, you’re already inside.

*squelch* … *squelch*

…Swallowed

*squelch* … *splurt*

…Eaten.

… … *glurg*… *blorp*

You feel yourself settle into the vulpine belly, your breathing shallow and rapid. You can feel the bite injury clearly, but strangely not the pain, and in fact that’s not even what’s at the forefront of your mind.

It’s… over. Just like that. …It didn’t even take three seconds. One moment you were out there running for all your worth, and the next…

*glurp*

You can feel them walking now, jostling you with every step. You can hear them licking their maw and swallowing, clearing the taste- your taste- from their tongue. And you can hear them sniffing, air rushing in and out of their nearby lungs in quick bursts.

It… it actually is over.

*slosh*

There’s a sudden jerk as the predator takes off again, galloping paws pounding around you, tense muscles holding you tight.

*squeak*!

You hear a very familiar sound, but it’s not your own. The running stops. Then a few shifts, and then the hunter begins walking again, this time at a much more relaxed pace.

“…You caught another one,” you murmur, quiet and muffled.

The only response is the continued sound of your consumer’s breathing. You hear nothing from the other rabbit following that last cry, and it doesn’t take you much thought to understand what that means.

As your breathing continues to slow, the reality of the situation continues to set in. After all your years, you’ve finally reached the end of the path, the end of your life. You still can’t believe how quickly the line was crossed, even though you’ve seen it before. But slouched there against a hungry predator’s insides, with your own leaking out, you’re sure beyond all doubt that the line has been crossed.

You’ve been caught… and eaten… by a fox…

“Just like my mate went…” you mumble. You can still remember the moment, despite how long it’s been. “…Always thought it’d probably be a fox that got me…”

The walking stops and you hear a dull thump from outside. Your predator’s breathing takes on a new dimension. You can get a sense of the fact that they’ve dropped their second catch to pause and recover from their hunt. Their very successful hunt.

“…Was I filling?” You pose the question in the closest thing you can muster to a normal speaking voice. You’re not quite sure why you ask at all. Morbid curiosity? A longing for some continued purpose? Some strange sense of pride?

“…Best thing I’ve caught all moon.”

There’d been a long pause before the fox had replied, like they’d been considering whether to bother. You wonder what about your tone managed to coax a response out of them, but you’re not certain you’d be able to keep up a conversation of that depth, let alone hold their interest in it.

“…But… you caught another,” you point out, implying the question with your weak voice.

Apparently, you were right about not being able to hold their interest in a conversation, because rather than reply, you can feel them shift to pick up the other rabbit and then continue walking. There’s a light sloshing now with every step as liquids begin to rise, intent on taking you.

A time passes, buried in the gut of the hungry fox. And between gurgles and particularly forceful squelches your mind drifts back over the events of your life. Striking out on your own, meeting your mate, spending the last while alone… You’d had your share of pain, but such was the lot of a living thing, and all in all you think you’ve led a respectable life as a rabbit. You did as well and held out as long as anyone would have.

You’re somewhere near the point where you’re unsure of your own consciousness, when you hear a new sound that catches what’s left of your attention.

*squeeea* *row-row-row-row* *squeea* *yip* *yip*

Again, you feel the walking stop, and hear that dull thud once more as the other rabbit hits the ground. But you’re pretty sure there’s a shift in the soundscape now. The songs of the insects aren’t reaching you anymore, instead having been replaced by muffled sounds of a light scuffle, and more of those little yips and tiny, almost infantile screeches. You feel a strange, instinctive recognition at the noises.

“Your kits sound beautiful,” you mutter, loud enough that you hope you can be heard.

You feel the fox turn away from their young, tucked away as you’re sure they are in the safety of their burrow. The body which holds yours takes a few steps and then stops.

“That’s very kind of you to say.”

*squelch*

You feel a firm pressure beneath you as a gentle drop presses you firmly against what you can only assume is the ground. You can feel your weight jostle within the slick stomach walls, but can no longer glean any actual sensation from most of it. The harsh, living confines pressing in against you even tighter, what little feeling you do still have tells you the liquids are almost over you now.

*guuurgle*

“…Maybe next time… I’ll be a little fox kit too…” you breathe.

You feel the fox lay down their head, ready to sleep off their hearty meal.

“Maybe next time,” they whisper in agreement.

…*glorp*

Originally Published: 8-Mar-2024