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Dream was gripped harshly and no amount of struggling could release him from the tight hold the hunter had on him. His high, pulsing screech was only cut off when he was forcibly thrown into the cage, his ribs screaming in protest as they slammed into the unforgiving iron. He barely got another cry out before the cage was dropped unceremoniously into the cart.
“What about the bear, sir,” one of the hunters asked. Dream looked towards the barely white mountain of fur, stained with deep red and brown. He could see the stutter in the way its chest rose and fell, the twitch of the paw as it tried to move but failed under its own weight. He felt another cry build up in his throat along with the moisture in his eyes.
“Leave the bear,” the leader commanded, already turning his back, “he won’t make it till morning, anyways.”
As the group started moving, the cry Dream let out was one that sounded distinctly like a woman being murdered, tittering off in choking waves. The answering cry was a low, desperate thing, short in its birth. The second one ended high, betraying nervousness. The bear was only able to push out three before he fell silent. Dream’s shrieks grew more frantic, more choked. To anyone else it was the cry of a captured animal. For him, it was a call for his bear.
Mate- mate- mate- don’t die- don’t leave me- mate-
The cry sounded long after the bear was lost from view, and continued no matter how many times his cage was hit or he was yelled at. It only stopped when they approached a large, dark grey building, where he was taken inside and thrown into an empty space, tucked between two other cages, in a large room lined door to door with them. It was only then that he quieted, allowing himself to curl into a ball and cry, surrounded by the wails and shouts of various other creatures.
~
Dream awoke to a gentle call and the feeling of fingers curling through his fur. After vaguely registering that he was pressed against the side of the cage and wondering how he got there, he lifted his head up. The action left him dizzy and now that he was awake, his sore body made itself known. His instincts forced the pain to the back of his mind to focus on the more imperative task at hand: finding out who was touching him. The boy that stared back had green scales covering his face and earth-coloured eyes, downcast as they met his. The boy was leaning against the bars closest to Dream, legs curled on the bottom of the cage, and head lowered a horrible degree to fit inside the confined space.
“Welcome little guy,” his voice is strong, but quiet. It is then that Dream realized the volume in the room had decreased significantly from when he arrived, remembering the wall of sound that hurt his sensitive ears. Now all he heard was snoring, the faint sound of whimpering, and the low murmurs of conversation. Dream gave a short, low noise in return, trying to match the level of quietness. The boy did not say anything for a while, but when he did, he did not seem to fully be talking to Dream.
“You must be a long way from home, Snow Fox. Unfortunate you find yourself here,” his fingers never stopped, but the boy shifted, just barely. “Were you alone, little guy?” Dream had been quiet up to this point, but he could not stop the whine that left his throat at the words. The boy seemed to understand and his fingers pressed into his side harder, though there was only so much he could touch or do through the bars.
“Was it your parents?” Dream shook his head.
“A sibling?” Another head shake.
“A friend?” Another shake. The boy continued to stare at and observe the small fox, and after a bit a thought came to and he spoke up,
“Your mate?” A soft cry emanated from Dream in confirmation and the boy gave a sad sigh. Upon looking, Dream could see that the boy's eyes shone with empathy. A sorry went unspoken, its syllables hung in the air. Dream answered by tucking himself back into a ball, laying his tail across his appendages and using it as a pillow. Letting the pull of exhaustion pull him to sleep, he closed his eyes. The last thing he heard before darkness enveloped him was the gruff echo of the hunter saying his mate was as good as dead, and the soft whisper of a voice beside him saying you’re too small to make it here, Fox. None ever have. I wish your death to be quick…they never are.
~
Dream woke to the sound of yelling and heavy footfalls, something he has learned to associate with life here as well as bad news. For the last few days, he has watched the various cages around him be opened, with the shifters and hybrids dragged out by forced-on collars. For the smaller ones, like him, their cages were simply carried. Many of them did not come back, and those that did were bloody - some half-crazed, still pumped with adrenaline, some half-dead, hanging onto life by a thread. He tried not to think too long about the ones who did not come back. It seemed today his luck ran out, for a man stopped in front of his cage and inspected him before turning to his buddy further down.
“Ya know, I thought they were kiddin’ when they said they caught an arctic fox,” he laughed, and Dream flinched back. It was a horribly dreadful thing that graded his ears. “Not sure it’s even a shifter though,” the man levelled his eyes with the cage, but still stayed far enough back so he couldn’t get attacked, “it may be bigger than the average fox, but it's got none of the normal…abnormal features. Besides maybe the green eyes.” Dream bared his teeth. You mean I don’t look human, he thought, internally scoffing and spitting at the man.
“Must be one of the unlucky ones, born a monstrosity,” the other man cuts himself off with a chuckle as he joins his friend in inspecting Dream, “must be why it was in the area. Got shunned and kicked from its own family.” The bastard turns away, calling to the first one over his shoulder. “Don’t keep too attached, now. Don’t forget you’re taking him to the Pit.” The first man rolls his eyes, easily picking up Dream’s cage with a gloved hand and walking towards the door. He already feels the adrenaline start to enter his veins as his heartbeat picks up. He watches behind him as his friend, the boy, watches as he is taken away. His eyes are sad as his hands lie limp in his lap. Dream barely sees him mouth the words goodbye before he is out of the room, and the boy out of sight.
~
The room he is taken into is obviously a back room of some sort. There are bigger cages here, holding an assortment of large hybrids. He passes by a lion hybrid, his entire body appearing as though he got stuck halfway through a shift - not quite human, not quite lion. A few cages down he passes a female brown bear, mostly human in figure at first glance - though her great size immediately gives her away as a hybrid. She has a soft, motherly quality to her, and Dream can’t help but think of his mate, left to bleed out on the forest floor. He can’t stop the desperate and pained squeak that tears itself from his throat. She perks to attention at the sound, and he knows that he accidently activated her protective instincts. With all his attention on her, he barely registers the male rhinoceros who huffs at the hunter before he is taken into a larger cage and set down harshly in front of a small door. His cage is opened and so is the door. He is immediately bombarded with a cacophony of cheering and loud banging, and he can barely get used to it before he is being prodded into the open space. The door shuts the moment he passes through, and he jumps away from the door with a surprised chirp in fear of any limbs getting caught.
The gate across from him opens and a young dog hybrid gets thrown in - a pup. Dread sets in Dream as he realizes he will have to fight a young child who looks to be no older than ten. He sees the boy’s spotted ear twitch, clawed hands and feet scratch the concrete floor as he shifts. Dream can already see the ring leader getting mad, but when he looks away briefly to investigate a noise, the boy lunges at him.
The pup grips the fur of his left shoulder roughly, picking him up and uses his weight to throw Dream onto the hard ground. His yowl of pain is quickly overtaken by short bursts of warning barks and yips as Dream twists to bite the boy’s wrist. Blood quickly fills his mouth and he knows he’s burst the vein there. The boy cries out and tries again to get a better hold on Dream. Though now that he is more aware, Dream is able to use his agile body to wiggle out of each grab. In the boy’s scramble to get a hold, he ends up knocking himself off balance, falling backwards. Dream uses this moment to go for the throat, clamping down on the windpipe, trying to hit the artery there as well. He is pushed away after a bit, and allows the boy his space, now watching from a few paces back as the now sobbing boy chokes on his own blood as he slowly bleeds out.
Tears fill Dream’s own eyes as he wishes his mate were here. He wishes he were big enough, strong enough, to put the kid out of his misery sooner. He wishes to wake up in his den, snuggled between his mate’s arms, tucked deep between his folds of fur. He wishes for a hug - a comfort.
Before he can watch the kid take his final breath, he is pulled out of the ring by a wire around his throat and dumped back into his cage. The same man picks him up with a jolt and Dream half-heartedly glares at him. The man looks at him, almost proud, almost impressed, before starting to walk back to the room, glazing down periodically.
“You’re a spunky little thing, aren’t you, Fox,” the man laughed and Dream looked away, shifting his gaze to the larger hybrids from before, flinching as he noticed their gazes already on him, “I’ll be the first to admit I was expecting to take back an empty cage.” Dream tried to ignore the man’s words, and instead on the look of sorrow from the bear, the interest and pity of the lion. Too soon, or perhaps not soon enough, Dream was placed back (thankfully) where he was taken, beside the kind boy. The hybrids in the room seemed to be just as shocked as the hunter that he made it, if the open stares and whispers were any indication.
Fingers run through his fur as soon as the hunter leaves, and he looks up to see a small smile on the boy’s face. It’s a mix of pride, sorrow, and almost hopefulness - relief.
“You made it another day, little guy.” Dream can’t help the small swell of pride that warms his chest at the words. The feeling is ruined, however, by the image of the child in the Pit, the taste of blood still thick on his tongue. The adrenaline from the fight is receding and he can feel his joints groan in pain where he had been thrown against the hard floor. The boy seems to understand and shifts in his cage, angling down a bit more to bring his face closer to Dream.
“Sleep, little guy. You deserve it.” Dream tucks the soft smile away in a precious corner of his heart, and allows himself to fall into slumber, imagining for a few brief seconds the fingers kneading his side were his mate’s.
~
Soft whispering is what pulls Dream gently from the darkness of his sleep. He lifts his head and turns to see the soft smile of a hunter just outside his cage. He can barely make out any features, other than strong features set in a kind manner. The hunter speaks up now that he knows Dream’s awake. He lifts up a small bag, and the smell of meat whaffs to Dream’s nose.
“Hey there little guy,” he whispers, and Dream finds his voice pleasant, “I bet you didn’t get food after the fight, so I thought I’d stop by to see the little champion.” The man unlocks Dream’s cage and empties the food pouch. Dream stayed curled up at the back of the cage, still apprehensive, unsure of the motive. Though he had always been a pretty good judge of character, and he was only getting good signals from the man in front of him.
“Go on,” the man prodded, turning his head slightly, angled towards the food, “it’s good, I promise.” The low growl of Dream’s stomach encouraged him to take a tentative step forwards, and soon he was hungrily scarfing down the chunks of meat. He vaguely registered a cooing noise being made. He had just finished the few pieces, and was licking the remnants of juice when he heard the man speak up again.
“Can I pet you?” Dream narrowed his eyes, but couldn’t help the desire for positive human contact from rising. He gives a tentative nod, and the man slowly brings up his hand, and carefully places it on Dream’s head, gently starting to scratch the top of it and running down the back. Dream closes his eyes at the warm feeling that runs down his spine. The warm hand moves down his scruff, aided by Dream himself pushing his head up to encourage the motion, and across his back in repeated strokes. Throwing abandonment to the wind in bliss, Dream plops onto his side, giving access to his belly. He is rewarded for this action with firm scratches along his sides and chest. The man gives a huffy chuckle at Dream’s antics, and for a few minutes the two are in their own bubble.
Too soon, the man has to leave, and reluctantly removes his hand from where it was spread on the fox’s side. Dream opens his eyes in question, and the man just gives his head another firm rub and scratch with a remorseful smile, before retreating, closing the door with care.
“I’m sorry, little warrior. I wish I could stay longer, but I can’t risk getting caught,” Dream makes a low, short noise of protest, and the man’s lips twitch upwards. The man continues, nodding his head into a bow, “thank you for the break and the company.”
As he walks away, the light atmosphere stays and Dream feels calmer than he has in days. No, thank you, he thinks, and keeps the memory tucked within him as he curls back into a ball, allowing sleep to take him into its gentle hold once again.
~
A few more days pass, and Dream is finding it increasingly hard to keep positive. He’s been, thankfully, spared from any more fights, but the atmosphere is so suffocating, he feels like his energy is being leached from his body. By the second day he had already started spiralling into his thoughts, the kind memory of the man he was using to try and keep the bad memories at bay turning sour as he remembered his mate’s strong hands that could cup nearly his entire side. His mate who would spend hours petting Dream as he read a book out loud, the rumble of a deep baritone filling their cave, easily heard under the crackling emanating from the fire pit. His mate who would curl himself around Dream - not much of a feat, all things considered - and tuck the fox into his chest and let out a low rumble. The same mate that tore apart a small pack of wolves who dared injure his mate.
He didn’t mean to, nor did he really notice, but he somehow spent the entire day thinking about his mate, and mourning the loss of his presence, and, in extension, of his death.
By the third, he has gone quiet, a heavy weight of loss having settled on him at some point during the night. It’s presence a heavy blanket with no air flow, choking him with its existence. A tentative but persisted poking on his back gets his attention through the fog and he lifts his head to look at the green-scaled boy.
~
He was going to be honest, he did not expect the fox to make it through that first trip to the Pit. Not to say he wasn’t sad to watch the poor creature be carried away, because it felt like a piece of his heart was being ripped out. It was genuinely the first time he’s cried in a long time, and the cranky wolf hybrid who’s been here as long as he has criticized him for getting attached so quickly. And not to say he wasn’t glad the fox made it. However, he will admit he felt a bit dirty at the relief he felt when he saw the small white coat pass through the doorway and the fox’s cage returned to its spot next to his. Not because he didn’t want his new companion to live, but because he knew that the poor fox would not be so lucky next time, and that this win only prolonged his inevitable suffering.
The day right after the Pit trip, the fox had been in relatively high spirits, which meant that Sapnap had most definitely visited during the night, something he was grateful for. That kind soul was the only beacon of light in this god-forsaken place. Yet, he watched in despair as the fox’s mood eventually waned in the dark atmosphere, and watched as he stayed curled in a ball all throughout that second day, letting out the occasional whimper, and sighed in understanding as the third day took a turn for the worst, seeing as the small fox had gone still. It was then that he knew there needed to be an intervention. The only thing he could think of for a distraction was the aforementioned mate. So, with that in mind, he gently prodded the fox awake, and once he knew he had his attention, he let the invitation of conversation lay in the air,
“What’s your mate like?” He’s only ever seen a mated pair once before, and most of his memories from Before are fuzzy at best, so he will say he was a little taken aback when the somber fox perked up with visible stars in his eyes. Suddenly he went from having no energy to seemingly infinite, bouncing from paw to paw. It took a couple seconds before the fox realized that he could not communicate through sheer energy or speaking, so he sat on his haunches and started trying to mime. He couldn’t try to wipe the fond grin off his face if he tried.
“They’re big,” is what he gathers from the fox spreading his paws as far apart as possible while leaning up a bit. An eager nod tells him he hit the nail on the head, and unconsciously he starts to envision the mate in his head.
“Bigger than you,” he questions, curious. The fox gives an over exaggerated nod, trying to spread his paws even further. Much, much bigger, then. In his head, however, he envisions a slightly larger snow fox (cause if nothing else, he knows that those in love tend to exaggerate everything about their significant other).
He’s able to make out that the fox is a proud little spoon, and that his mate does most, if not all, of the hunting for the two. Both make total sense in retrospect, but it also weaves sorrow into his chest as the scenario for how his fox got here dawns on him (especially without his mate), and as he thinks about how drastic the shift must be for the well-cared-for fox.
The fox’s next mimed description is cut off by the rude yelling of none other than the previously mentioned cranky wolf.
“No one cares about yer stupid mate,” the last word being spit with such malice, he can’t help but think there is more to that story than meets the eye. He feels no pity for the cranky wolf, however, as he sees from the corner of his eye how much the fox deflates, and how much smaller he looks afterwards.
“Oh shut up, man,” another hybrid yells out from further down, out of his vision, “let the poor creature be happy for two seconds!” Cranky growls back,
“I did, and now it’s gotten annoying-”
“Oh poor you-” The two go back and forth, spitting insults, but he’s already tuned them out and focusing on his little fox who's laid back down. At least he’s not curled up again, he thinks absently.
It isn’t until later during feeding that there’s any more excitement.
As usual, there are two hunters who come in and drop in some of those strange nutrient cubes - he’s never heard them be called anything different, and he overheard one of the hunters explain once that they needed an efficient way to feed individual creatures enough nutrients to live without being messy, and so some enthusiast came up with these cubes that made up most meals in this place.
His cage is located closer to the door, but still near the middle of the room, with the fox on his left. He can’t help but watch hungrily as his captors move closer, but he is stopped from scarfing down his food by the confusion of his fox buddy not getting anything. It’s not like them to not give each hybrid their food, and he hopes for a moment that they just missed the small guy. Apparently the second hunter thinks the same thing, because he turns to the first (the one who had skipped over the fox) and speaks up.
“What about the fox? You missed him,” there is a small, barely noticeable frown on his face, and he looks at the expectant bundle of fur with a bit of pity. The first barely spares a glance, before continuing his tasks with a dismissive wave of his hand.
“Leave ‘im. One of the sponsor's wives is looking for white furs for a trip up north. He’s being picked up in the morning.”
The second captor’s look of pity deepens, and he gives the now teary-eyed fox a final look and walks away to finish his tasks. Something in his heart pulls taunt at the final sentence, and he wants nothing more than to pull the poor fox into his arms. It seems the other hybrids in the room that heard also caught onto the implication and it is a quiet distribution of food.
It is only when the captors leave that a pained sob leaves the foxes throat. It is understandable, and no one here will judge him for it. It is one thing for an animal to be caught and killed for furs, but it is another for a shifter or hybrid to be. It is inhumane, and a shifter’s worst nightmare to be slaughtered like an animal. The fact that the little fox has not shifted since he arrived tells that he was born looking like a fox, like he does now, and that almost makes it worse.
It is near silent for a long while before a familiar voice speaks up, full of contempt,
“You couldn’t have just let him be happy for two seconds now could you,” the demand is aimed at Cranky, who, for what it’s worth, looks apologetic. His ears are pinned back and dark eyes shiny. He leans up against the front of his cage, and opens his muzzle a couple times, before he finally speaks up, voice more gentle than he’s ever heard it,
“You can-,” he takes a breath, “you said your mate was strong, right? Tell us more about them.” The hybrid from before scoffs, and he imagines they’re rolling their eyes. His fox just lets out a choked whine and shakes his head, curling into a tight ball, away from his grasp.
The room is near silent for the rest of the evening, silently mourning the loss of humanity. Mourning their lost hybrid. This death will linger the hardest, he can tell, and will stain the most.
At least it will be quick, he thinks, and he hates himself for it.
~
I’m going to be skinned, another sob rips from his throat at the thought. Shame and anger blaze through him, but they come in waves and every emotion is flickering and he feels off kilter in every way. He doesn’t want to die, but he doesn’t want to stay here, and he almost wishes he didn’t know up until the moment he was being taken because knowing hurts.
He’s always loved being a snow fox, loved how his small size allowed for better cuddles with his mate and less room required for sleeping. However, for once, he is feeling too small in his own skin, and wishes for little more than to be able to shift, now more than ever.
At least I’ll be reunited with Techno, he thinks, and it helps to soothe something inside him.
~
Later that night, but earlier than normal, Sapnap visits. He’s out of breath and looks frantic, walking with purpose up to the fox. The man looks to be near tears, and he understands, because he’ll admit, he is, too.
The fox does not stir, even as Sapnap opens the cage, nor when he sets down a bag obviously filled with meat. The man give a teary smile and says,
“I heard you didn’t get to eat, little buddy,” he takes a shaky breath, pushing forward, “so I, uh, I brought you some food.”
The fox’s head shifts just barely with a shake - with a no to food. His heart feels like it’s being ripped apart, and he can tell Sapnap feels the same.
“Come on, little guy,” the man nearly pleads.
A few more moments of silence go by, before the man speaks up again, asking permission to give the fox the last bit of comfort he’ll be allowed.
“Can I pet you?” The whispered question gets a small nod, and Sapnap nearly deflates in relief. The man easily reaches in and tugs the fox towards him, pressing his forehead into the fox’s plush side.
The fox seems to relax in Sapnap’s presence, with every pet and scratch. There is contentment and acceptance in his eyes as he presses his forehead against Sapnap’s cheek. The man gives the fox a final squeeze, a kiss on the head, and backs away. He sees the mental separation the man is doing right now as he steps away from the cage, at last finally turning and walking away.
He watches as the fox re-curls himself into a ball, though noticeably less tight, and allows himself to relax in the calmer atmosphere.
~
He isn’t quite sure what woke him, but he knows that it’s the middle of the night, if the lack of light is anything to go off of. The only source is a faint beam sneaking in through the windows above him. That, however, allows him to see the large white figure lumbering its way into the room.
Why is there a polar bear here, is his first thought, before the thick scent of a predator mixed with shifter makes its way into his senses. That does not offer a lot of answers, though, but a sense of panic does rise in him. He hears a fellow hybrid already trying to warn the bear, faint whispers of turn back turn back, get out, leave making their way to his ears. The bear gives the warning hybrid a look and continues walking through the room, inspecting the cages.
Not taking his eyes off the bear, he pokes his fingers through the bar to wake up the fox. Might as well not miss the entertainment in his final hours. The bear across the small walkway from him, and still a few cages down on his right. The fox is up now though, and he takes his eyes off the bear to turn to the fox and point out the visitor. There is instantly a change and the fox is perked up. He opens his mouth, and before he can shush the fox, he gives a low call. He hears the bear’s huff of interest and looks right at where the fox’s cage is, quickly lumbering over. Now that he looks closer, he can see the fox watching the bear with rapt attention, and if he didn’t know any better, he would say the fox is smiling. The two make eye contact through the bars for a few moments before the bear sits up and rips the door clean off oh my god-.
The bear sticks his muzzle into the open space and immediately the little fox starts rubbing against it, eliciting a deep purr from the bear, who is obviously trying to stop it in the name of stealth. Soon the bear pulls back, instead raising his paws to gently grasp the eager fox and pull him into his chest. The little guy is barely visible under all the fur.
It is here that he realizes who this bear is, and it seems the other awake hybrids do too. Cranky harshly whispers “you’re mate’s a fucking polar bear,” and he can’t help but agree with the exasperation as he stares wide eyed at the couple. Everything is starting to make sense though. Obvious little spoon - dude is barely bigger than the bear’s paw, - not needing to hunt- again, the dude’s a polar bear, literal top of the food chain. Little fox could eat a tenth of his mate’s catch and never go hungry again. Much bigger? Yeah, okay, guess that description was fair.
The bear soon places the fox back in the cage, nuzzling him again before huffing, telling him to stay put. He’ll admit and say he’s curious. He watches the bear lumber over the other side of the room, situated just inside the doorway. He figures out why just a few minutes later when a hunter comes running through and the bear easily clamps down on the man’s throat and rips it out. He’s dead before he hits the ground with a soft thud, and suddenly he knows what’s about to go down. The speck of hope blossoming in his chest at the growing pile of gored captors is hard to clamp down, but he tries.
Soon enough, an actual alarm sounds, at which point the bear lets himself go of stealth and goes for less clean routes. Tearing at their sides and ripping limbs off, crushing their bones under his paws. He is mostly numb to the gore, but he can not help the animal instinct in him that wants to run and hide from such a predator. He sees Sapnap through the doorway before the bear does, and shouts before the bear can turn on the friendly man. A sharp fox cry sounds beside him and the bear gets to message, pointing his snout at Sapnap in question, at which he responds,
“He’s a good one, please leave him.” The fox gives a nod of confirmation and the bear turns to Sapnap and gives a small nod, immediately turning to maul another captor.
When there seems to be no more, the bear turns to the fox, but the fox is a step ahead and has already leaped out of the cage and sprints over, jumping at the bear. To his, and everyone's’ - that should be a given, almost nothing here is personal, even emotions - utter surprise, the bear shifts into a full human, pulling the snow fox tightly to his chest, beginning to mutter in his ear, pressing his face into the fur.
That means he’s a- holy shit, this is getting too crazy. Maybe all these emotions are finally getting to him and he’s having really freaky nightmares. The mate’s a full shifter, but- does that mean-
His thoughts are interrupted by a blond winged hybrid entering the room, inspecting the floor covered in violence before smiling as his gaze rests on the once-bear and his fox mate.
“Here you go, m-,” the man says, obviously stopping himself on the last word, passing a bottle of liquid to the bear shifter. The shifter thanks the man and lifts the fox up, urging him to drink the liquid, saying something he can’t quite hear. The fox drinks it without question and once it’s finished, jumps out of the shifter’s arms and himself shifts into a man. He can feel his own eyes widen in disbelief, and he can practically feel the shock pulse in the air. The man standing where his fox once did is a tall blond, lean with muscle, and adorning a blinding smile. The bear shifter pulls the fox-shifter into a bone-crushing hug and they stay there for a few moments.
Soon, his fox - man, he really needs a name or something - pulls away and turns to him, walking forward and unlocking his cage. Lending him a hand to help him out, the man is quick to pull him into a gentle but firm hug.
“Thank you,” the fox-shifter sighs out, and it sounds like they are words he’s been holding in for a while. When the man takes a step back, he then offers him a hand for a shake.
“Dream,” the man offers. Something locks in place at finally having a name for the little fox.
He tentatively takes the fox’s - Dream’s - hand in his own. The feeling is foreign, the faint memory of doing this in the Before flickered across his mind, gone like the wind. Now standing, his legs tingle with blood flow and he tries to stretch out his back, only able to get it so far. He watches as Dream’s mate, the blond-haired man, and Sapnap go around to unlock all the cages. More people join them later on with the bigger hybrids, and soon everyone is being led out of the building.
Chilled air nips at his skin and fills his lungs, but the warm sun soothes the ache. Around him, the other hybrids are smiling, some laughing, many crying, and some are just standing with their eyes closed and breathing. He looks over at Dream and his mate, foreheads pressed against each other, bathing in the sun. He never thought he would get out, but now that he has, he thinks, yeah, I think I want that.
~
Dream burrows deeper into his mate’s hold, his nose sticking out just far enough to get proper air flow. He and Techno had spent the last few days with the rescued hybrids, helping them recover. This was their first night back in their den, and Techno had spent only a few minutes in his human form to light the fire before they curled up, basking in each others’ presence. His mate hadn’t let Dream out of his sight for the last few days (not that he wanted to leave his mate’s side either. He was still getting over the fact that he was alive) and practically sprinted to their den when they had grown too restless in the group.
Something in Dream that had been dislodged since his capture slipped into place as he felt the deep rumble of his mate’s contentment surround him.
Eventually they’d have to move; they’d have to deal with that witch, and the wolves, and their new friends.
For now, however, Dream let himself relax, tucked into the folds of his mate’s fur, and slip into a blissed sleep.