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Being outside was…strange. The new sounds and smells were overwhelming his senses, leaving him nearly frozen in panic as he tried to take it all in. He took a few deep breaths through his mouth, still tasting the air even as he tried to stop using his nose. The sounds of cars driving by on the neighborhood street make his shorn ears twitch and swivel with each new sound, and the smell of gasoline lingers long after they passed. The sound of neighbors moving around in the apartment next to them made his claws dig into the chair he was in, trying not to jump or make a sound despite his fear. Crying out was a sure way to earn more pain.
Boof knew he wasn’t in the ring anymore. Knew that Mum bought him and has given him more freedom than he’s had for most of his life. He knew she wasn’t like him, with the threatening aura that struck fear into the Souls of those who had the misfortune of getting close, with the cloying smell of expensive bourbon and saffron laced tobacco clouding the air wherever he went, and screams of pain mixed with chilling laughter following him like an unholy chorus.
He shook himself free from the memories and attempted to slow his rapid breathing. No, she’s nothing like him.
But Boof still doesn’t know her true intentions, and frankly, he doesn’t care. Any fight or will to live has been beaten out of him time and time again. Why should this be any different? Best not to even think about Hope where there is none.
Then again, he is outside sitting in a chair on a cute little balcony high enough up not to be seen by nosey passers below. Everything was so different from the last time he breathed air where he wasn’t choking on the smell of Dust and blood. Boof didn’t know what to make of the world he now found himself in. In the Ring, it was Fight or be Killed - or worse, tortured until you beg for death. The apartment was safe, Mum spoke kindly, gave him warm clothes and soft blankets to snuggle in, and he never went hungry. They would sit on the couch where she would read to him sometimes, or they would watch tv - which was so much thinner with a huge screen and endless channels on it, so much cooler than the last tv he’d seen. He was learning so much about the world that left him behind while he fought to survive. They had phones that didn’t need to connect to the wall anymore - they could take them anywhere! Boof didn’t really understand how any of it worked, but he was no less curious about it even though he didn’t get it. Mum promised she’d get him one when she could, he didn’t believe her, but he was content to mess with hers when she let him.
He jumped and twisted toward the door that just slid open, ears back, head down, with hands locked in place on the arms of the chair. His broken ribs screamed in agony, the large bite taken out of them irritated by the motion. Boof kept his face as impassive as possible, his pain and fear only given away by the slight downturn of his mouth while he waited for the hit that never came.
Mum spoke softly, “Sorry to scare you Boofy, I didn’t mean to. I was just checking to see if you wanted dinner and to watch a movie, your pick!” Her hands were up where he could see them and she didn’t come any closer to him. He started to relax as he realized there wasn’t a threat, and his tail gave a small wag when she said he could pick. Yeah, that sounded good to him, might as well soak up the good treatment while he can. He eyed her for a moment to make sure she didn’t take back the offer before standing to follow her inside. He hasn’t dared to speak to her, he knows bait doesn’t talk. So he meekly bows his head, pitiful tail tucked between his legs as he makes his way to curl up on the couch in his pile of blankets while Mum heads to the kitchen. He pulls his tail in his lap as he waits. He doesn’t remember what it used to look like, but he knows it wasn’t…this.
His vibrant red tail is cut roughly down to almost nothing, heavily uneven with some tufts longer than others, and some places shorn down to the bone where he’d been nicked for moving. What little fur he did have was matted and itched with each movement he made. His ears were in much of the same shape, as he raised a hand to idly pick at a particularly large patch that had been bothering him for a while now. His ears felt scratchy and rough on his claws, still not growing out much and making him look as dirty as he feels. His hand drops into his lap on his tail, and he’s glad he can’t see the despair he feels on his face.
His internal musings are broken by the gentle voice of Mum offering to get a brush so he can get the mats out of his fur while she sets a plate of food on the table in front of him. He was already drooling from the smell wafting from the kitchen, and it increased tenfold from the delicious warm food now in front of him, but carefully considers her offer before digging in. The mats have been annoying, and he will be able to clean his fur more thoroughly once they’re out. His ears twitch and pull as if to remind him of just how heavy and irritated they are. Boof decides he can ask Mum for this one thing since she already offered. He looks at her kind, smiling face, and braves looking into her beautiful blueish-gray eyes. The ones he saw so long ago when he was first forced into the Ring. The face that gave him the only kindness in that hellhole for fifteen years, and even then it was only his first day. But he’d never forget those eyes. He nods, miming brushing his tail, and begins to eat while she heads to the bathroom.
By the time she returns Boof is licking the plate clean, making sure to get every last crumb and morsel. He barely even tasted it in his rush to gobble it down, but it was still a thousand times better than the gray slop they fed bait in the ring. Every meal was prepared with care and the intent within it radiating comfort, healing, trust was enough to make his soul ache. It’s what made him eat like a starved man despite willing himself to slow down and enjoy the next meal each time he finished one. It was the closest thing to kindness he had felt in years.
The magic rested heavy in his bones. He was used to only having enough to keep his broken body held together through the meager matrixes of his mana lines the ringmasters hadn’t destroyed. It made him feel heavy, and sleep was calling his name but he resisted for the time being.
He reached for the brush Mum left on the table for him while she ate her meal. He held it in his hand, feeling the weight of it and turning it over, feeling the soft bristles against the bones of his hand. It wasn’t unpleasant and should be enough to start on the mats in his tail. He gently pulled his tail into his lap, deciding to start with the tip and work backward towards his body where it was more sensitive. The first few pulls through the tangled hair pulled uncomfortably against his bones, but it wasn’t unbearable. He worked slowly, pulling hair free a little at a time, letting clumps of loose hair that couldn’t shed because it was so matted collect on the brush. He watched as Dust that had been trapped within began to fall, whether it was his or someone else’s, he’d never know. His ears dipped low, almost pressing against his skull as he continued the methodical brushing of his tail. He was making progress, almost a third of the way to his body when everything became blurred and out of focus. He lifted a hand to clear his eye, only to realize he was crying. With the realization, he inhaled sharply, only for the breath to leave his chest just as quickly as it came. He couldn’t stop or slow his breathing as terrible choking sobs filled the air around him. With a jolt of clarity, he realized those awful sounds were coming from him, his voice so scratchy and deep from disuse it's no wonder he didn’t recognize his own voice. He quickly stifled the noise, hoping no one heard him. Ringmasters despised criers, and he felt like the small child who was first brought to the ring that was beaten until he didn’t have any magic left to cry. It had happened so many times, that Boof didn’t even know he still could cry, and the thought of being caught terrified him. He clamped down on the end of his tail and began brushing the mats out furiously. The pain of his fist around his bones and the savage pulling of his hair was something to ground him as he tried desperately to stop the flow of tears and keep himself quiet.
He had forgotten he wasn’t alone and was startled by the hand that reached out to him, stopping his furious motions with a gentle touch. His hands were shaking. Vision still blurred as he gasped quietly for air, but was too terrified to look up. He could hear a soothing voice talking to him but couldn’t understand it over his own panic. His ears twitched every so often in the direction of the voice, slowly starting to piece words together.
“You’re safe here”
“No one will hurt you”
“It’s okay Boofy”
“Deep breathes for me, let’s do it together”
His head was starting to clear, and his breathing began to slow as he listened to the voice guiding him. His eyes were shut tight and his hands rubbed at his sockets as he came back to the present. The gentle voice carried on, instructing him to lay back in the nest of blankets, get comfortable, and keep taking those deep breaths for me. The voice was kind, and he was exhausted. His bones were heavy and aching, his head foggy and clouded as he obeyed and curled up tightly in his nest. His scent surrounded him, and the scent of someone else…comforting and soothing to his senses. Mum. That’s right. He was with Mum, in her apartment. Not in the ring. He was safe.
With that realization he felt himself go limp, dropping all tension from his bones into the nest of blankets. He was so, so tired.
He felt a gentle touch on the top of his skull, a twitch of an ear was the only movement he had the energy to manage. The gentle voice of Mum spoke again, “it’s okay Boofy, we’ll get through this. Together. We’ll be okay”
And he believed her.
Sleep was approaching fast, the sweet relief of unconsciousness was calling his name. A spark of hope from the depths of his Soul - he used the last of his energy to open his eyes to meet hers, reached out his hand to gently hold hers, and said
“Together,”
in his rough, unused voice, before he succumbed to the darkness where for once, only peace awaited him.