Delirious narrowed his blue eyes, skepticism horribly taking over his system. He opened, then closed, his mouth about fifteen separate times, mouthed obscenities, then insults, then blasphemies, before finally settling on a very, very simple,

"What."

The Buffalo in front of him looked his way with a slight turn of his massive head. The multi-feathered headdress bobbed to and fro with his movement, aided by the dust-covered ceiling fan spinning slowly above the two. Chief Thunderhooves hummed, a low note emanating much louder thanks to the confinement of the small building—actually, now that Delirious thought of it, more a little station than anything considered concrete—that was Sheriff Silverstar's office. The blinding sunlight peeking in from the open shutters placed horizontal lines across the wooden floor marred by scratches, scuffs, and oh shit was that whiskey?

"You have Barkhide, Aych-Two-Oh," the Chief finally replied, diverting Delirious' gaze from the floor to his black eyes.

"You keep saying that, but I don't know what the hell that means," Delirious replied, leaning forward in his chair with a glare drawing on his brow.

Thunderhooves about-faced without warning, stomping over to Delirious and snatching hold of his foreleg with the might and fury of the train outside that had just pulled into the town not ten minutes ago. The Buffalo turned his leg around in his grasp and showed him the leaf still poking out of the skin.

"This leaf. It does not move, and it will not come off." He let go and shook his head, an effort that made it look like he was waggling off water like a soaked canine. "You were bit by a Timberwolf, and have contracted their Barkhide." Delirious opened his mouth to, again, question what it was, but was halted by Thunderhooves' obvious noticing and explanation, "In the span of the next few moons, your body will harden and become like bark, mirroring the beasts that attacked you."

Author's Notes:

Fuck you FIMf, this counts as a chapter. There's barely story there, but it's there.

Anyway you guys, more of you read the story than my blogs simply because you're smarter than that. I dunno about this story anymore. It's become nothing more than stress to me, and something that I have to slog through to actually finish whenever I sit down to write it. I know that's entirely my fault, putting storyline where you guys only want explosions, cursing, and action, and I've only made it worse by, well, making it worse.

I know it's horribly ungrateful, and just downright fucking rude to do so because I wouldn't be here without you all, but I think I might have to pull the plug.

I can't go and balance two main things with a job and all that, and I find much more fun writing other things than I do this. Maybe I'll decide otherwise, because killing it is really last resort and is something I SERIOUSLY don't wanna do, and I really love you guys and constantly thank you for the continued support of my dumb bullshittery.

I'm so sorry, all. Maybe. Maybe maybe maybe. I guess we'll have to see.