He was ready to be done with this, and all signs pointed to the fox being ready to be done with it, too. It limped when it made its way back to him—probably from when that stubborn calabash had got its paw. Rory's eyebrows drew together in concern as he met its gaze. Then its ears perked forward and it slid in behind his legs again, and he found it in himself to chuckle. "You owe it to me to at least let me ruffle your fur after this," he told it wryly, the corner of his mouth curling up in a small smile.
But then he had a more immediate concern: the final gourd of this horde. Rory was too tired for dramatics, but something in him wanted to save what he could of the playful atmosphere. In the end, though, he ended up just hefting his impaled pumpkin high, and bringing it down in a hard blow: both gourds exploded in a spray of seed and flesh and rind, splattering his already soiled pants. They glistened wetly with fruit flesh.
The silence following the last swing was...bizarre. The incessant chattering and cackling was gone, replaced by the relatively mellow sounds of the forest. For a moment, Rory simply stood where he was, breathing rather heavily and hearing little but that and his own heartbeat roaring in his ears.
Then, to his own surprise, he laughed. It was brief and of the 'what the fuck just happened?' variety, and he shook his head. Around them was a crime scene, and gingerly Rory stepped away, towards a cleaner patch of ground. Once he found it he dropped both his pike andhis pants himself, folding down rather gracefully into a sitting position. He huffed out a sigh, then looked curiously towards the fox.
But then he had a more immediate concern: the final gourd of this horde. Rory was too tired for dramatics, but something in him wanted to save what he could of the playful atmosphere. In the end, though, he ended up just hefting his impaled pumpkin high, and bringing it down in a hard blow: both gourds exploded in a spray of seed and flesh and rind, splattering his already soiled pants. They glistened wetly with fruit flesh.
The silence following the last swing was...bizarre. The incessant chattering and cackling was gone, replaced by the relatively mellow sounds of the forest. For a moment, Rory simply stood where he was, breathing rather heavily and hearing little but that and his own heartbeat roaring in his ears.
Then, to his own surprise, he laughed. It was brief and of the 'what the fuck just happened?' variety, and he shook his head. Around them was a crime scene, and gingerly Rory stepped away, towards a cleaner patch of ground. Once he found it he dropped both his pike and
