The glint of steel crosses your vision, the sounds and distractions of the other warriors battling falls away. Only moments. You have to twist your arm just right to brace against her wild cleaving swing.
The shock as her blade smashes against you sends you both stumbling. Your arms feel the tingling ache of nerves screaming. A familar ache, but one you know will spell doom as your arms go slack for the barest of moments. 
The other warrior already managed to recover from her stumbling. The fury in her eyes was evident, a blind rage. This next movement was faster, as she kicks you square in the chest while your arms sing with uselessness. Now the sun beat down into your eyes as she used her entire weight behind the next swing. You wouldn't be blocking this.
Time slowed, showing you every moment as a frame in picture. Slow enough to admire. Her red fur looked like wildfire, burning in the sunlight. Her blade glinting against the blue sky, sharpened and clean, a weapon perfected for killing you. You could even see the heat wind around it as it slices the air. A hoarse whimper, pathetic and sad. Something you've found yourself saying a thousand times since you were a boy. "...Please No.." your throat burned dry. If she heard you, she did not react.
Then time released it's hold on you and everything happened so quickly you had to review what happened to you as your body sprawled across the ground, leaving a smear of yourself and dirt. Her blade grinding through your own armor with a crushing shriek.
Then the cold steel passed into your warm flesh like butter, severing and crushing ribs, sweat and blood flying as momentum carried you with the blade for a moment as it sunk deep. A rush of air as your lung was made useless and sucking blood and sweat.
Then you were on the ground, staring up at a beautiful sky, vision blurred with stinging sweat and burning tears as your body struggles to make sense of its agony. Your one lung tries to compensate for the loss of its brother but you were drinking your own blood, drowning in it as you suffered. Death came in the form of a great shadow over your soon to be corpse. A crushing pressure on your neck made you forget the pain of your body...then your body entirely fell away.
"FFUCK!!" You scream, flinging back soaking wet sheets in the dark, hands stroking your body, looking for holes, dirt or some grim souvenir from your battle. Just a dream, your mind chides as you find yourself whole and generally unblemished. Your sheets are so soaked, you might as well have pissed the bed.
The BLARING alarm on your phone almost made you fall out of your tiny bed, quickly scrambling to jab the dismissal function and swipe the sound away. Then you toss your phone into a chair with your work clothes on it.
You move to the edge of your bed where it was dry and rub your head slowly. "Fuck. FUCK. Fuck this.." you groan slowly, rubbing your eyes. Another visit to the doctor to try and supress these godawful dreams.
Your brain keeps drawing you back, as you close your eyes. It fills your vision, that stillframe of her. And her eyes, always peircing and blue. Always cutting through you worse than any blade she wielded. The slits of her iris as she poured all her hate into you. You try and shake it away slowly.
You had more concerns than simple horrible dreams. You had a job to do, as much as it drained you daily. You wince as your hot feet touched cold floor and your body finally pulled the last of itself away from the radiant heat of the bed and into the chill air of the apartment. "Shit!" You mumble, shivering as you take step by step away from the once comfortable bed and towards the bathroom to wash off some of your body before begrudgingly getting dressed in your work clothes. Now to commute and pray traffic wouldn't make you late.
The stale office air was colder than your apartment in the morning. As usual. You kept your suit jacket on as you usually do and sit at your desk. "ALRIGHTY EVERYONE!" The familar cheery beeping of the lovebird supervisor rang out over the cubicals. Most stood to attention like good soldiers and listened. You did not. "We have a new manager joining us in the office today after Joyce's resignation" you could hear the annoying smile in her voice. "Please, everyone, let's all welcome Cassandra!" And cue stupid applause. A few hellos. You just grimace at the thought of another animal breathing down your human neck for 'not working as fast as the others'.
Out of pure curiosity you raise your head just enough to peek beyond the cube wall. A lady in a fine suit. Well she'll be something to look at, at least.
Nice sturdy looking curves showing off in the suit, clearly single. The crowd finally moves in a way you could catch a glimpse of her. Firey red fur immediately blinds you.
Your blood goes cold as you go Elder scrolls oblivion on her. 'You are the one I've seen in my dreams'.
The warrior from your dreams, with gleaming sword. That makes twice in one day she's managed to take your breath from your chest, one in a less literal sense however. Her armor replaced with a tailored suit and her hair trimmed and brushed perfectly, but there was no mistaking her from the wild knight who almost cleaved you in two. Her eyes were exactly the same.
You slump back into your seat quickly to avoid getting seen, gripping the desk to calm your autistic shaking. You slid out a pillbottle and some water, just the act of swallowing something calming you slightly. Something normal. You have to remind yourself normal people don't come equipt with battle axes, you should be fine in the office.
Your ears vaguely pick up on mumbled greetings and shuffling of your coworkers. Of course she would be taken around to greet everyone like this was the first day at school. You take deep breaths and twiddle your fingers, counting, grounding yourself. Just like your work appointed therapist encouraged. You weren't sure if they were full of shit or not.
Your name floats around passed your counting in your head and lodges itself in your ear. You stand automatically and mentally punch yourself in the head for doing so. Slowly you had to turn and smile that stupid vapid grin when meeting a new 'superior'. Maybe you could auto-Zombie your way through this! Hand extended, palm open, good so far. "Hey there! Just Anon please, my actual name is...well embarrassing..heh good to meet you" your trademark greeting, hell you should put that on a business card to hand people. Your eyes finally lock onto her after a few seconds of no movement on her side.
The tail swishing stopped dead. Her massive eyes locked onto yours and unmoving. Like a vixen in the headlights, she's frozen. The look on her ears and face was...shock? No more, pure absolute horror. She recoils from your hand. 
All of her fur seems to fluff up as you can see the pure animalistic terror rise up in her. She looked like some Meow-zaki movie character.
You psychically beg with her to stop spilling so much spaghetti on the floor, your own autism making you violently aware of how many eyes were staring at you both. Like bores into your flesh. Finally she seems to realize she was in reality and smoothed her fur with a casual ease. "Anon then, right, a pleasure to meet you" her voice makes your heart squeeze in your chest. You had heard it before. Exactly like that. But you quickly remembered where you were and gently took her hand with a light swish of the wrist.
Her whole being recoils her hand as if you shocked her, but she manages a straight face as she smiles and turns away. Luna the Lovebird seems equally as perturbed but just as quickly perks up to leave the awkward situation behind to introduce the next coworker as you collapse into your chair.
You immediately decide to go fast and fate can suck ass. Focusing on work, you ignore curious snooping coworkers asking if you knew her. Blowing them off with one word answers "No, never". Classic. And you were going to keep it that way. She was just some fox, some vix you didnt know and didnt care to know.
You feel her eyes upon you as you shiver off the cold, you pretend it doesn't bother you but you just...ignore it. You had work, she had work. You didnt need to know her or anyone else for that matter.
Work passed by as normally as ever after that interruption. You could ignore her presence as long as you could work.
>A dull night too, besides your dreams.
Then you hurried home, eager to avoid the stares and curious glances of coworkers if you would meet her. Disappointing all of them no doubt, but you had your own life to deal with. Not some quasi-supernatural dream shit. Just a normal ordinary life to live through. Live. That was your priority.
Because your dreams always reminded you of how you would die. Tonight was no different.
Tonight, you looked over a dusty golden weat field. The sun bared down, your scarred body showing many battles. You marched forward slowly, a curved blade clutched carefully in your fist.
The enemy wore segmented armor, some type of bronze. You couldn't tell the age of when you were fighting, your dreaming body was never really concerned with that. You railed against hard sheilds and sliced at exposed flesh, but your forces were no match against superior tactics as the enemy shoved you and your men back, then lunged.
Time was always merciless as you died. Slowing to a crawl, showing you every moment in a frame by frame. This time it was a spear, thrust through you like a poker through a warm marshmellow. It struck true, straight through your chest. Your body carried its momentum as it slammed into the shield wall, but you were already dead. Your brain obviously hadn't caught up with that fact.
As you vomitted blood onto your killers arms, your dying vision tunneled...on her. The Fox. Your dreams were sometimes longer, sometimes shorter but no matter how 'good' your dreamself was at fighting, you always lost. To her. Your eternal Killer.
She was your better 10 times over. Faster, harder. Rarely you met off the battleground, you might be an officer or veteran, but she would find you. Either a malevolent murderess, cruelly slicing you to bloody gore on the streets, making sure you suffered before your last breath.
She could also be an impartial death-dealer. Meeting on the field of war, a soldier, a knight. Something impersonal she killed because it was her duty. Because you were simply her unfortunate Enemy.
However, there were other times. 
Singlular times in every blue moon.
There would be a spark, a flash of recognition. Then she would see you, recognize you.
Those were the true nightmares.
Hearing her cry for you always made your soul agonize in a way not even the pain of your body could replicate as you died.
Those were the days when you prayed you wouldnt wake from death, feeling the weight and agony of that nightmare through your waking days.
It was always a bad night when she would see you. And a bad day was sure to follow.

The work week chugged along, and with a mix of pills and exhaustion, you managed through it with no dreams. No death haunting you, no visions of fire-fur and icy blue eyes. Even your new manager seemed more preoccupied with learning the ins and outs of her new job than harrassing you with her stares. Not that she didnt try. Stops at your desk before you left, attempts to strike up conversation in the lunch room. You always managed to weasel your way out with one word answers and mumbling before rushing away to some imagined assignment or late event.
It was almost a game leaving you wonder what would break first, her patience or her spirit. Would she give up? Or give in? Order you into her nice cushy corner office and confront you with a shut door? To Force your hand.
Today however, she seemed just as content to ignore you as well.
No interruption at lunch, she didn't even come into the shared lunchroom.
No ambushes as you tried to sprint out the door with your bag to avoid conversation.
Today, you succeeded, a small petty victory against whatever force bound you to her.
But it was small and petty. A trifling. While fate had the weighted hand. Your dreams, while you slept.
While the medicine helped to keep you from remembering them into a dark dreamless void, it was a temporary measure at best. You weren't perfect. You forgot to take it some days. Others, well on other days, you just couldn't escape.
On the battlefields inside your head, big or small, you couldn't run from fate. Or her. You would see her face, burn it into your mind. Your body never listened no matter how you screamed and begged to wake or avoid your grim destiny.
You would act in the grisly play of your dreams. In full until you died.
A prisoner of some Shakespearean tragedy that goes on for far too long.
As you lay down and drift off into your mind something felt different. As you were shunted into your body for the night, you could feel it. This was going to be a terrible night.
Your body already ached with some unspeakable soreness, not in your muscles but in your blood and bones.
As you dressed for what would be your last battle, you studied your armor. Nothing stood out to you particularly, as far as when this was taking place.
That didn't mean however it wasn't worthy of note.
The armor glistened, even with the typical wear and gouges you might see on actual armor. It was worn, but cared for almost in reverence. You knew it wouldn't save you today.
A helm usually covered your head regardless, but today was special. Your body slides a snarling mask over your face and it clicks into the helm. Your breath sounds so much louder in your ears.
From the darkness, into the blinding light. Senses blur for a moment as you adjust. Sand shifts under your sandals, hot and clumped in parts with blood. The stone area around you was massive. The Coliseum perhaps? It wasn't important.
You feel yourself moving before you even think it. Your body wasn't under your command again. You roar and raise your arms, weapon at the ready. Then you bow to a huge statue of a man you didnt recognize. The audience was deafening.
No matter how long you dreamed of these moments, nothing felt so good than hearing a mass of people worship your name.
Anthros howling and people cheering. Your name becoming a chant on their lips.
You turn as a deafening thud announced your opponent's arrival. The crowd silences for only a moment in anticipation to learn of your foe. Then a figure in distinctive armor strolls out, with fist raised in victory already. Their armor coated them, but a half armored tail swished behind them and a swath of red fur caught your eye.
The audience had only fury and thunderous applause.
The bought had been anticipated, and you would not disappoint.
A deep rumble caused the sands to shift before horns blared over the audience, earning their silence. Both combatants bowed to the man below the large statue, then to each other.

Then it begun.
Your dream swirled around you as you lunged. You felt drunk, but soon realized it wasnt you but your dream speeding up. Like a demonic VHS that wanted to get to what it deemed "the Good Part". You still felt every blow and the weight of your armor.
Fate was a twisted monster.
Your vision barely cleared, time jerked to attention then you were very aware of your sword snapping like a twig, sending the tip skyward in an arch. A huge metal cetus came swinging up and with a great CRUNCH, your helm and the mask that held it were ripped away. The light was blinding, but the sky was beautiful. 
A dull thud tugged you back down to earth as you were hauled down into the sand with a short sword buried in your gut to the hilt. 
One of your favorite ways to be murdered, the kind of long suffering. Your muscles and gut already screamed louder than the crowd.
Your previous lunge completes as you lose control of your body and ragdoll onto your opponent, splattering her with hot blood.
Her shoulders shift and she tackles you off her sword and into the warm sand, spraying more blood. The sand itself mocked you, feeling like a warm bed under your stifling armor. The crowd was the ocean in a wild storm, deafening.
Her eyes never left you, caught in combat in case you somehow stood. But you both knew you wouldn't be getting up. You both had seen far too many sucking wounds like this to know better. Then her eyes saw your hair, your skin and not fur. Recognition passed a moment later.

"Anon? AANONYMOUS?!"

Her voice made your heart crumple like paper in a fire. Trapped inside your mind, you begged to wake, trying to remember what useless techniques your therapist taught you. But your therapist hadn't taught you those things yet, you mind cruely chided you. You were dying in the area.
You weren't sure how long you laid there. It wasnt more than a few breaths of a moment but it was an eternity. Then a skidding of sand and hot air announced her presence, and you could only open your mouth in agony as she lifted you into her arms, any movement took more air from your screaming. But then you were conscious enough to look up at her.
A steady drip of warm tears dripped down your face and neck. Each one felt like diamonds cutting into your bones. A deep yearning like some endless chasm more than the hole in your insides. Your arm manages to lift and grasp hers. You barely hear her voice over the crowd and the blood rushing in you ears.

"NONONOpleaseno! Lookatme, please whyyou whywhywhyno!"
She reached up in frustration and fury, twisting and ripping away her helmet and mask, hurling it away.
There she was.
Even with her face twisted in grief and messy tears and blood.
You railed against your mind prison, pleading and begging whatever cruel god kept you here to let you die before it really sunk in. So you didnt suffer. Wouldn't see her suffering. Because of you. That thought tore your heart to peices. She's crying because of you.
The feeling was indescribable, being crushed by ice and smeared across the rocks was close but didnt quite cover the deep longing it left you.
Your tunnel vision refocused with a distant scream. Hers of course. 
"HELP!! PLEASE!!"

"SOMEONEHELP!!"

But this was the theater of death. No one would come. You had to die. Still she screamed. She made the most hideous and terrifying noises as she screamed and cried, claws digging into your armor as she clutched you, rocking gently. It felt like your heart was being crushed under itself. You mentally wished you could do something, pull away to tell yourself you were dreaming and wake up.
Your hand shakes, moving against rough armor to find her face. Your finger tips sliding through her fur, across her whiskers and into her wild hair. 
Each movement felt like moving through glue as you felt life itself ebbing from your body onto the sands and her. But you managed to stroke her ears in just the right way. Managed to glide your hand over her head.

"...I..Love....You"

Your entire dreamstate flips as mental prisoner you are tried to make sense of what you just heard.
Wheezing, crying, vomitting, sobbing. Prayers to gods uncaring. All typical for your dreams. Maybe vague begging for your life. But speaking to her? Addressing her so directly? Especially an admission of love? Never. Not once. In years of agony and death.
She realized you spoke, her ears radaring into your words before her head turned and her entire body shook.
She screamed hoarsely and softly hit your armor, dragging her claws across it. As if blaming it for not protecting you.

"WHORESON...I will always love you" 

She buried her face into your neck, still sobbing between muffled confessions of love and PLEADING not to go with you or any gods that would listen. They never did.

 
[IMAGINE THE MOST ANNOYING ALARM YOU CAN, RIGHT IN YOUR EAR]
"YEARGH!" In a dull scramble, you roll and collapse onto the floor, phone spinning away with the alarm you set finally dismissing itself, having done it's job.
Your body was wracked with pain coated in sweat and your eyes hurt from the tears you shed in your sleep. 
>Time to go to the bathroom and sob until you heave up
You managed to shakingly untangle yourself from your sheets and crawl to your bathroom and vomit somewhere between agonized sobbing. 
>a wonderful start to a wonderful day
After a few phone calls to your therapist, leaving hoarse messages and trying to make sure she understood who you were, you called work and told them you would be late.
It was hard to walk when your muscles screamed and hard to see when your eyes were so tired and swollen. You probably looked like a horrid bum. But you had to be at work. Had to. Even the presence of other people was better than staying in your apartment. Not to mention, a paycheck would be nice.
Your coworkers and a very concerned supervisor assaulted you with questions and wary looks as you shuffled into the building. Just a bad allergy attack, nothing catching you assure them. Nothing They need to know about or concern themselves with. They buy it. Mostly.
The New Manager however
Is not here.
Out sick, your coworker informs you as you ask
Says she caught the Flu, sounded terrible over the phone.
You wager that "Flu" wont last the day.