Fox-n-Hound

An assortment of the scout unit members, Gurkhas and off duty personnel clustered at the end of a paved lot. Most sat on the hoods of trucks but some had brought chairs, coolers and beer. Four of the Gurkhas were suited up to go out, facing Aranwen. Medina closed her eyes while Scott settled the twigs in her hand, and then she knelt to bring them down to Fox height. Tytler stepped forward to represent his team and they drew.

Aranwen would hide. From the vehicles parked, there were hoots, cheers and shouts, good-natured trash talk as the outcome was wagered. In the background, mingled with the human sounds, was something new, and Aranwen turned to listen, but then the others were talking, discussing the rules for this 'engagement'. She was hiding, they had to find her, but they each had a flag. She could win by hiding too well to be found, or by stealing the flags. If a flag was stolen, that player was out. She chuckled and went to her starting point, waiting for the signal to go for her head start before they came looking.

"Stupidest damn thing." McAdam spat to the side, watching. "That ain't how you hunt fox." He and his shared a grin and when the shout went up and Aranwen took off, he released the dog. Freed from a kennel where most of its pack had starved to death, the hound had recovered well with a little care and now took off at full voice, long legs eating ground. At the baying, Aranwen spun, ears pinned back, then instinct overwhelmed reason and she took off at a sprint. She could hear Medina and Scott yelling, but their words were lost beneath the cries of the hound. Tytler and his team took off after the hound, several considered shooting the dogs, but froze with guns drawn. With it directly behind Aranwen, there was no clear shot and a miss would too easily hit her.

While Medina flew at the men responsible, shouting for someone else to put the bike they were sitting on to use, while Scott grabbed the radio, shouting frantically for his commanding officer.

"This is 2nd Battalion, 10th GRR, Scott for Wolfe actual, urgent. Over;" Scott all but shouted into the radio microphone.

Within seconds. Tamas replied; "Wolfe actual. Go 2-10 Scott. Over"

"Wolfe;" Scott began angrily. "Some as... Someone has set a hound lose on the Fox and she's bolted. Over." There was a brief pause before Tamas replied. "Confine said someone till Wolfe actual arrives. Further; said someone's entire chain of command had better be on scene before Wolfe actual arrives;" and there was cold fury in his voice. "Additional orders 2-10 Scott; send elements to track the Fox; Gurkhas if possible with instructions to call for her. Capture the hound if possible. Question: location of SSG Medina? If Medina available; send her out as well."

Scott replied; "Orders understood. Medina has secured the culprits. Will advise her of higher orders. 2-10 out." "Wolfe actual. Out" Tamas tossed down the radio microphone down and headed out.

Scott turned to his people and began shouting orders as Tamas had instructed. "Pogo! Jumpto!;" he shouted pointing at a pair of his best Gurkhas; "Take your teams and track the Fox. Call for her at regular intervals." Pogo and Jumpto were not their actual names of course, but as those names were close to unpronounceable by any but another Gurkha, the nicknames stuck. They seemed to like the names.

Scott then headed for Medina.

When Tamas arrived there was a semi-circle of personnel wearing their off duty clothes and grim expressions. They were standing over three men who were kneeling in the dirt and cuffed. They looked like they'd been in a fight, two of them were bloody. One might need medical attention; there was a small boot print still visible across half his face, possible proof that being a foot shorter wouldn't stop Medina from kicking a man in the teeth.

There was another group with several of the Gurkhas, Rivera and some of the 8th going over a map. Rivera and one of the Gurkhas were on radios, they were hunched, debating and didn't immediately see Tamas arrive.

Scott jogged over quickly, talking fast while they walked. "The first four Gurkha who were going to game with her are out. They were camo'd and ready to play, I'm still not sure who they were. Guy from the 8th is out on a bike. Pogo and Jumpto are out, with radios, and Medina is out on a bike with a radio. Some of the terrain is making it difficult and Fox has done at least two circles." Scott glanced at the group with the map and then glanced at the men in the dirt. "Medina tore a piece out of them before I sent her off, their CO's are there," he pointed, started to say something else, but hesitated.

Tamas nodded. "Medina did that? Please tell me they resisted being detained;" he asked carefully.

"I don't think so, unfortunately, sir;" Scott replied. "Oh sure they resisted, but I'm pretty sure she struck first, sir."

"Damnit;" Tamas replied hotly. "Have they made a complaint yet?"

"No; the one is barely conscious;" Scott said with something resembling satisfaction. "The other lost teeth and possibly broke his jaw. The third hasn't done much more than moan in pain yet."

"Get the medics over here and have them seen to;" Tamas replied. "And then have them thrown in the brig." He nodded at the soldier's officers. "Let them know I'm here;" he said coldly.

"Yes, sir;" Scott replied then did a smartly done about face. "Attention!" He all but bellowed. "Field Marshall Wolfe on site!"

Everyone stopped, faced Tamas and stood at attention.

To those conducting the search for Aranwen, Tamas said; "Carry on!" They got back to work.

Tamas strode over to the officers and men and stopped less than two feet from the most senior officer.

"Gentlemen;" he said in a low, cold tone. "And I use that term with reluctance." The officers didn't quite gulp, but braced themselves for shitstorm they were about to receive.

"Am I correct in that you were briefed on the Dragoon's unit history, customs, personnel, organization to include the unit mascot?" His voice started out low but was building in both fury and volume. "And that said mascot was not to be threatened, harmed or mistreated in any way shape or fashion? And that your orders were to convey said briefings onto your subordinates on down to the lowest fucking private?"

He went on for a good ten minutes and when he wound down everyone in hearing distance had gone pale in fear of his wrath. "There will be permanent reprimands places in your files. Forget about working your way up the ranks; I may yet bust you down. And before you even think to object; I am the senior field grade officer in this theater of war and we are in a war. I damn well can do it and more.""

"Now, you will aid in the search for the Fox and may the gods have mercy on your souls if she isn't found because I won't. Then you will REtrain your troops on what it means to be in my unit. There will be an inspection, a full inspection of your units after the Fox is found. You had best hope no one fails a single item or question. Am I clear?!" He didn't wait for answer but turned and joined the group going over the maps. He motioned for the scouts and Gurkhas to join him.

In a more normal tone, he addressed them. "You've all worked with her, you know the terrain just as, or almost as well as her. Where would she go to ground?"

The group glanced at Rivera, who had a radio in each hand and a harried expression as she was thrust into the middle of something she didn't feel confident about. Scott stepped into get her going. "There's been some debate on that. She won't tree, like their fox," he nodded toward the Gurkha, and Rivera found her voice.

"Michio says that unless she has a den to go to ground in, fox run. We've got someone else who agrees and says fox will run circles and make a convoluted trail to try and shake the hounds, and that seems to be what she's doing. We're trying to get everyone in the way of where she's been, so they might see them if she passes back through, but that damn dog is so big they're moving fast."

"The wind is coming across here," Scott added, nodding toward his Gurkha counterparts as he pointed to the map, "she's been here, and here, and here," he traced parts of lines on the map, "and they're taking positions along here. Medina's in the middle. Even in a panic, we hope if she smells her, she'll steer toward her." "We've got the bike here," Rivera pointed, "he's got a pretty good view and can get to most of the others or back to here fast."

There was a sudden crackling in Rivera's handset, "Oh shit, something was just fighting." The unfamiliar voice gave a description of the terrain he thought it came from, distance and general direction, then the radio cut out, coming back a moment later. "Aw fuck, something down there is screaming like nothin' I've ever heard, but it sounds pissed." The other radios crackled to life as Medina and the others chimed in briefly, terse breathless replies as they ran.

For several minutes the team at the table held still, waiting. There were short exchanges from those in the field and long moments of silence.

When the radio cackled to life again it was Pogo. "We have her trail. She is hurt, but she is close, and she is calling to us." There was some garbled conversation in the background, and something that sounded like a shout, or cheer. "She has her! Fox is found, maybe the first time, though she had to help us." He laughed with obvious relief. Scott jumped with a shout, Rivera collapsed into her seat, the relief of having Fox found expressing itself in a hundred ways as the news rippled out.

Tamas reached for a radio. "Medina? This is Wolfe actual. You have her? I need a sitrep."

As soon as she could get her hands free, Medina replied, “I have her.” She sounded out of breath and there was gekkering behind her, an irritated fox sounding like intense static over the field radio. The radio cut out as Medina let it go and gave Aranwen a look. She was back quickly. “The hound must have caught her by the back leg, she has at least two puncture wounds, hard with the fur, but I don’t see anything else. I think it caught her and then had more Fox than it could handle.” She sounded proud. “She got herself into a nook to stay safe until we got to her.”

"Tell her to take it easy;" he replied.

"Consider it done, Sir." She paused and looked around. “Unless someone else has something, there’s no sign of the dog. Over.”

One by one the others took a look around from their vantage and reported the same thing. Medina came back on, “On our way to you, sir.”

Tamas looked back at the 8th Infantry Division’s officers. "Good news it seems; the Fox has been located." The steel came back into voice. "0600 the day after tomorrow the 8th ID will turn out for full inspection." That gave them a little less than two days to prepare. It also meant very little if any sleep for the whole unit. "Following the inspection, there will be a full kit twelve mile road march to a site out on the training area where the unit will conduct a 48 hour field exercise and readiness evaluation. Questions? Comments?" The last was said in a manner suggesting there had better not be any. Putting the entire unit through hell for the next few days would be extreme and rough punishment. Short of relieving the entire chain of command which might cause a mutiny, it was about all he could do.

Colonel David Stevens, the 8th ID commander - he had been on track to become a general, saluted Tamas. "Sir! We won't fail!" Stevens was pissed at the verbal beating he'd suffered because of some of his men's colossal screw up. It wouldn't happen again.

"See that it doesn't;" Tamas replied coldly. "Or I will find someone else to run the division." He paused and then added. "Colonel, those three;" he pointed at the cuffed men. "Since they love to hunt for fun and sport; if they're released and recovered enough to serve during the exercise, they are on point for every patrol their unit goes on."

Stevens winced internally. Taking point on patrols was the shit job in the combat units. You usually didn't last long doing that. The 8th ID officers hurried off.

Tamas turned back to Scott. "Have someone locate Lt. Col. Donner and Col Gurung and ask them to join me here at their earliest convenience." In military terms, that meant right now. "They have an Opfor training mission to prepare for and little time to do it."

Scott grinned. "Yes, sir!"

The sound of motor bikes heralded Medina's return. The team in the field had used a pair of shirts to make a sling to attach Aranwen securely to Medina, and she had one hand on the bike to steer, the other held Aranwen steady. The new recruit had one of the Gurkha with him, and Pogo jumped off to grab Medina's bike when she stopped. Having taken off in a t-shirt, Medina was scratched up, scraped and dirty. She was also sporting a bruise along her left eye that probably came from the fight, not the search, but her injuries appeared superficial as she slid off the bike cradling Aranwen and headed for Tamas.

The team had used part of one shirt to wrap and hold Aranwen's leg, Medina pointed that out as she handed the Fox over and stepped back out of the way.

Tamas nodded his thanks as he took Aranwen into his arms. He hesitated and then nodded at the bruise on her face. "I appreciate everything you did;" he said. "If there are repercussions, there will also be a commendation in it."

Medina nodded, looking mildly confused or surprised at the end. But when she answered, she was all business. "Yes, Sir."

He shook his head. "At least you won't be on point for the foreseeable future." She made no comment, just a grim nod and a worried look at Aranwen.

He sighed and carried the fox over to the vet. "Patient for you, Doc;" he said, "Anything but the leg, Aranwen?" "Mooww." Aranwen hung her head, looking oddly sheepish and only glancing at the medic.

He set her down on the table and stepped back to vet do her work. "At least you didn't get bit in the ass;" he told Aranwen. He smiled gently at her. "I'm glad you're back."

She warbled at him, resting her injured leg lightly on the table as she glanced around. She didn't protest when the vet examined her, but at the sound of the buzzers the vet intended to use to get the fur out of her way, Aranwen decided she was leaving, even if she had to do it on three legs.

The vet moved the buzzer away, trying to hold her without using force, and Aranwen tried to climb over the woman's shoulder, with a sharp alarm cry as emphasis.

"Aranwen;" he said while he moved forward to assist. "Stop. We need to make sure the wounds are clean. Your fur will grow back."

He pulled her off the vet and held her in his arms. He stroked her head until she calmed down. "Now let the doc do her job, will you?" He asked gently.

She whined and huffed, but held still. The vet was forced to use local pain killers and topical antibiotics, because she had no idea how a fox would tolerate meds used for dogs, or the best way to cut the dose small enough. Military dogs were significantly larger and, in the end, fox aren't really dogs. Cleaned up with a couple of stitches, the vet wrapped her leg, handed him more topical and they were free to go.

Aranwen moped, occasionally whining.

"They'll be a nice set of scars;" he said to her, "once they heal. Everybody loves scars."

The inspection and exercise will be a grueling process not only for the 8th ID but for the rest of the Dragoons as well. They'll have to perform the inspections, and assist with the exercise set up and running as well. And the 8th ID will pass, barely, the inspections and the field exercise. And, no, they won't be getting any sleep during the exercise as the scouts and Gurkhas will be giving them too much hell to allow for it.

Aranwen stalks the 8th, her strange voice and the way her eyes glow in the low light making many people uncomfortable. Tent ties are loose and partly blow down in light breezes, things go missing and they're left frantically searching for helmets, boots, and other essentials. She's never seen touching anything, never seen going in or out of tents, most of the misfortunes happen during the day, but the Dragoons at least have no doubts they have the Fox's ire.

Whether the Dragoons take pity on their new cohorts and tell them their problem is likely not resolved until after inspection.

Through the unofficial NCO back channel; the 8th ID sergeants ask their counterparts in the Dragoons what the hell is going on. Michio, with Williams and Scott, explains to the division sergeant major that the division has angered the fox and they must appease her. Michio passes on the proper forms of offerings. The DSM is dubious at first but he'll try anything at this point.

At the end of the Op Aranwen briefly vanishes, and is soon heard demanding attention. When people get close enough she dashes out to them and brings them to the missing hound; who has not fared well on his own. She insists on it being brought back and adopts it. Having lost one vicious fight, and still sporting the injuries to prove it, the dog has no interest in another and by the time it recovers the two are seen cavorting around, playing chase and wrestling, with Aranwen clearly the boss of the situation.

Tamas shook his head in amusement. Only she would track down her attacker and make him pack.