Fox's eyes watered and tears leaked down his furred cheeks, hoping this was all some sort of horrible nightmare. His entire body ached, outside and inside, and the odd, uncomfortable, and unnatural feeling of a spear running through his whole body caused him to make 'erk' sounds each time he was bounced by the two carrying him. His aching body felt more heat arriving the closer he got to the fire, then he was placed between the two holders, his eyes watching the spear's tip rest between the Y shaped logs. Musclefoot then tied a rope around the spear's tip, making Fox a little curious, despite everything that had been going on.

He got his answer soon enough. The chief had the other end of the ropes tied to both ends of the spear and used them to lower Fox onto the grill placed over the fire. Fox's underside sizzled as he touched the heated bars, the vulpine letting out an agonizing cry as the grill burned into his skin, leaving an imprint of the bars. The Lightfoot tribe cheered, celebrating the 'criminal's' pain. The chief would then lift Fox off the grill and allow Musclefoot to slowly rotate Fox over the fire. The chief would then lower Fox back onto the grill at certain points, making sure he was being grilled evenly while roasting over the open fire. The smell of roasting vulpine soon began to flood the village, and those not in attendance made their way to the dining area set up to house Fox once he was finished. Fox's cries of pain fell on deaf ears, the only reaction being the enjoyment of the crowd that he was in pain. The tip of the spear glowed red, and Fox began to drip succulent juices into the fire, sizzling and crackling as it licked at his body, ensuring he would be roasted to perfection.

He was lowered onto the grill again, but instead of being lifted out in a second, the chief kept him there, and Musclefoot continued to rotate Fox while resting on the grill. Fox screamed as loud as his lungs could scream, and now more Lightfoot began to strike him again with their clubs and stones, the torture of the meat ensuring its flavor for the royal feast. It seemed hopeless for Fox, he had seen now what the Lightfoot did with thieves, in the back of his mind, he wondered what treatment perpetrators of more serious crimes had received.

Fox's body grew red, and the scent began to attract the odd Sharpclaw at the village's gate. Many were drooling, a few had even begun to masturbate to Fox's torture, while everyone eagerly awaited the moment their meal was cooked.