"You lazy, waste of space little furball," Ash growled, lip raised, though there was no true vehemence in the sentence. "You have your own legs; learn to use them." He shot a dirty look over his shoulder at the black hare stretched out like a sated tick on his back, but continued walking anyway.

Truth be told, Underfoot(he didn't know if it was a good thing that the hare didn't live up to his name or not) wasn't big enough to even be noticeable upon Ash's back, but he liked to give the little bugger a hard time.

"But your four legs are longer and stronger, and put to better use this way," the hare shot back, pawing idly at his ears.

"I'm not a pack horse," the wolf grumbled, tempted to buck the little miscreant off. This was a common occurance, one that neither would trade in the world for anything else. Though they bitched and moaned about each others company, they needed that companionship, desperately, each for their own reasons.

"I wouldn't dare call you that. Horse is too noble of a creature for the likes of you. You're more like a....a donkey. A stubborn, crotchity old donkey with big ears and bad teeth." The hare grinned widely, knowing his friend couldn't see him.

Ash sputtered, too a fronted to come up with an instant, haughty retort. "I 'on't 'ave 'ad 'eet," he shot back after a moment, mouth agape to show said pearly white fangs. The wolf even wiggled his average sized ears for good measure.
The hare swiped at his own ear, tilting his head to one side. "What was that? I don't speak donkey."

"a**," the wolf huffed, staring up through the trees to the fiery sky above. Sunset was upon them, and the sky was awash in shades of pink, orange, and purple, with the first twinkles of the brightest stars peaking through. He knew exactly where they were by those stars, and the by the smells that tantalized his keen nose.

"Now, now. You don't have to be calling yourself names. Donkey is fine."

Ash growled, but said nothing, no longer willing to rise to hare's bait.

It was only a short time later that they broke through the treeline at the edge of a small cliff, a river gurgling happily about fifty feet below. This was their place, the place he had first met the surly hare, and the place they always returned to every time the seasons changed. There was just something about the cliff, the little pocket of trees protecting it, and the way the world fell away below them.

Settling down on his belly at the edge of the cliff, Ash stretched in such a way that Underfoot tumbled from his back with a disgruntled snort. They sat in companionable silence for a while, simply enjoying each others company. The two often did this, falling into their own thoughts as they relaxed in the fading glow of the setting sun, the hare idly washing his face with a damp paw, Ash resting with his head on his paws.

After a while, when the sun blazed as a mere sliver above the horizon, Underfoot looked at Ash, watching the wolf for a few moments. The canine stared into the distance as if he could pierce right through the sun with his gaze. The hare pawed at the grass, a nervous gesture.

"Are you better?" It was the same question every time they came here, and usually the wolf gave the same negative answer, leaving the hare to sigh and go back to his own thoughts.

Ash didn't respond at first, but neither did he look away from the horizon. The sun turned his eyes a brilliant gold, washing his fur with light. He became an almost ethereal creature, and Underfoot held his breath.

The wolf simply said, "Yeah."

A pause. Then, with a small, imperceptible nod to himself, the old hare sidled closer to the wolf for warmth as the last rays disappeared in a blaze beneath the horizon. The world fell into increasing darkness, bringing with it the chill of night. But something was different tonight. The cold seemed less intense, the air a little warmer. Everything felt...better.

"Good."

They slept.

~~~~

Vermillion Ash woke with a start, a shiver rippling down his spine. His eyes darted around, ears on swivels. But nothing seemed out of place, and no scents nor sounds came to him that might have warned his sleeping body of danger. Had a nightmare woken him? Something made him doubt that; he usually remembered all of his nightmares. And yet . . .

Shaking his head to clear it, the big wolf glanced down at his side, finding the little black hare no longer nestled amongst his fur. The little furball had twisted away from him in his sleep, no doubt to keep from getting too warm. The night hadn't cooled as much as they'd both thought it might, and it felt rather . . . pleasant.

Climbing quietly to his feet, he padded away from the cliff, into the stand of trees behind the companions' perch to relieve himself. The world was quiet around him, and only then did he realize his mistake.

It was too quiet. There was something-

A shadow dashed from the underbrush to his right, and before he could bark a warning, a piercing scream ripped the night asunder and everything slowed down to a crawl. Sound bubbled from his throat, his heart knowing more than his brain had even processed yet. "NO!"

Ash burst through the trees, but he felt like tree sap coated his paws, held him back from the cliff. Maybe his brain truly did know what would happen if he saw; maybe it tried to protect him by forcing his legs into pieces of stiff, unyielding wood.

But as he stumbled back to where he had left his companion, a coppery, nauseating scent smashed into him hard enough to stagger him; all he saw was the dark, almost black blood. The blood, and the blazing yellow eyes of the cougar that had waited until he left Underfoot's side. The massive, yet near-starved feline let out a vicious hiss as it crouched over the ravaged body of his friend, and Ash stared numbly at the bits of fur and blood coating those ivory fangs.

A mist invaded his vision, bathing the world in the crimson of his rage and sorrow. "Nooooooo...." The sound was piteous, terrible to hear, but the cougar didn't care that it had killed Ash's only friend. The only creature that had been able to fix him . . .

Something in him broke, and he knew that it was his heart.

The world was a cruel, terrible place, and in that moment, Vermilion Ash wanted to bathe it in the blood of this terrible creature . . . A creature half-starved, her belly swollen with cubs, that had simply followed its instincts to survive.

The broken wolf turned tail and ran as fast as his paws could take him. He would run until they bled, and he would never go back there. A howl of agony and sorrow ripped from his throat, echoing away into an unforgiving darkness, and the image of a small, black hare, so patient, so gentle, so . . . kind . . . permeated his stormy thoughts until the blessed darkness of nothingness finally swallowed him whole.

Underfoot . . . I'm so sorry . . .