Chapter Three
Felix
“Can you shift?” I asked the fox huddled on the ground. I knew Rob had said he suspected fur had been the injured one’s skin for a long time, but I had to try. It would certainly be easier to treat him as a human. I waited, my hand extended, but he didn’t respond. At least he didn’t try to bite me while I freed him. And it had to have been extremely painful. His mind was awash in it, though he held very still, save for his panting breaths.
After I removed the trap, I could see bone through the opening in his leg. The break was the least of this fox’s worries, though. There were other things—matted fur, fleas, and some ticks, plus, he was skinny as I’d ever seen an animal. Until I ran some tests, I wouldn’t have the whole picture, but I was surprised he was living at all.
His breathing was labored, but I couldn’t tell if that was from his frailty or from the pain.
A high-pitched yip from him told me that he couldn’t shift. It would be easy to communicate with him mentally, easier with another fox than any other, but I felt like maybe this fox would shut down if I tried it again.
My fox churned inside me, wanting to shift for some reason. But my human, more specifically the vet part of me, needed to take him to safety—get him fed, hydrated, and healed.
“Okay, let’s get you up. This is going to suck ass, so whine and whimper all you need to until we arrive at the clinic.”
I took the small flannel blanket I kept in the back of my truck for emergencies and wrapped him up. While I did, he looked up at me, if I wasn’t mistaken, in confusion. He had to know I was trying to help him.
“Rob,” I called behind me, feeling the male’s presence. “Can you grab my bags and load them into the back of the truck? I’m taking him in. Thanks for calling me so quickly. I’m not sure even Malinda could handle this.”
I was glad the witch wasn’t within hearing distance. She would rip me a new one for sure for downplaying her healing abilities.
“Sure. Anything else I can do? Want me to ride with you?” A low growl came from one of his mates, and he chuckled. “Never mind. I’ve been overruled.”
I would ordinarily rib him for being so whipped by his mates, but the only thing on my mind was getting this fox in. I focused on his breathing while I carried him. He relaxed in my arms, burying his muzzle against the side of my neck.
“I’ve got you. You’ll be well in no time.”
I usually wasn’t this intimate—this personal with a wounded animal. While I prided myself on a warm bedside manner, most cases had become more clinical, over the years, than close to the heart—a learned behavior for sure. My first years as a vet were plagued by nights of crying over my patients. Eventually, I got over it. Had to—otherwise I’d be broken and not able to do my job.
But, for some reason, the heartbreak over an animal in need was needling me on this one.
“All loaded,” Rob called out, and I thanked him while slowly placing the fox onto the passenger seat of my vehicle. I had taken the bottom of a dog kennel and fixed it there a long time ago. The seat belt fit around it and made sure the animal I was carrying was not only comfortable, but safe. And with it next to me, I could keep an eye on him for the ride. It would come out for a passenger…but I rarely had one. A busy vet had little time for socializing, even in the friendly town of Haven.
I sprinted to the driver’s side, turned on the engine, and put it in gear, but not before cranking up the heat to make sure my fox didn’t go into shock—the fox, not my fox.
In minutes we were at the clinic. Patty, my other assistant, waited, looking at her watch while I pulled up to the emergency entrance.
“Took you a while. Sasha called us as soon as you left so we could prep a room.”
I shrugged, not really caring about her opinion at the moment. My fox needed this male, and it seemed like he would claw me open any second if I didn’t comply.
She held the glass door open while I picked up the animal, now whining more than ever, and brought him into the clinic.
“I’ve got a saline IV set up, and I’ve prepped the table if we need to get him into surgery. X-ray is empty. Talk to me, Felix.”
I unwrapped the fox like one would unwrap their first babe. “Let’s get him a saline IV, and I need some painkiller, but not a lot—he’s pretty weak—in case I need to suture.”
She nodded and got to work wordlessly. Patty needed a raise. She was my friend when I needed her to be, and efficient when the time called for it. All around, I couldn’t have asked for a better assistant. When she finished her veterinary training, I hoped she’d stick around. She’d be an amazing doctor.
“Let’s call him Rogue,” she said after trying several times to get a line into his severely dehydrated veins. She’d finally found a viable vein in one of his thighs.
“Yep,” I agreed. When wild or stray animals came into the clinic, we always gave them names. It made the process more comforting somehow. And if I couldn’t say my name, I’d at least want someone to call me a name rather than Animal-446. Sounded too cold, like a morgue.
“All right, Rogue. This part is gonna suck hard. Not even gonna lie.”
The fox’s eyes were hooded and drooping already. No doubt with his low weight the pain meds would take effect in seconds. His metabolism must be shit at this point. I pulled on some gloves while Patty set up a rolling table next to me with gauze, antiseptic, and exam instruments.
I didn’t have to do an X-ray to recognize the severe break in his leg, although I would. I would have to do surgery to set it back and get him sewed up—no way I was doing this without sedation.
I looked at Patty. “I hate bear traps. I hate traps in general. I hate all the traps and hunting and awful people.” All the words came out in one exhale.
“No shit. Don’t we all.” Patty was a deer shifter and had to shift within the fenced-and-posted perimeters of her property for fear of being hunted for Bambi stew.
“Let’s knock him out.”
Again, Patty nodded and got right to work, switching out pain medication for sedation while I shaved around the area to be sutured. She put a mask on his muzzle to give him some oxygen. I cringed with every touch to the fox as I managed to set the bone and get the wound cleaned and closed. It took twenty minutes, tops, but felt like hours.
“We’ll get him into a flea bath and take care of these as soon as possible.” Her voice had become soft.
I nodded back to her as we cleaned up and wrapped him in a soft, warm blanket. We transferred him to an empty kennel. I brushed my hands through his fur as he lay there, almost lifeless but for the rise and fall of his chest with breathing.
Damn it, there was something about this creature.