Authors notes: Back to a flashback chapter. Last time we saw young Nick, it was at the harvest festival. Now, though, a long time has past and we've got a monster of a chapter to let us catch up with it. Some of my astute readers will have noticed that the A03 version of this Fic is rated as explicit... Well, this chapter is that reason. It won't harm your read-through to only read this version, but the A03 one is out there for those who want it.
Also, good news! This Fic is now officially over 100,000 words long!
.
Chapter 26:
.
May, 2002
.
"Nick…"
.
"Nick…"
.
"Nick…"
.
"Urghhhh…"
.
"Wake up Nick…"
.
Groaning, I slowly began to come to my senses. I felt my warm body shift and turn. My fleeting feelings returning to me, I recognised that I was nestled underneath the light blanket that covered me and above the soft warm pillow beneath me. Nothing out of usual there.
There was also the cutting of the wicker to my side, pushing through my fur and onto my skin as I was nudged into it again and again. That was unusual. Most unusual of all though was the kneading of little paws into my shoulder as they tried to shake me awake and the soft quiet voice that was gently trying to prise me from my slumber. My eyes began to flutter open, letting the bright light of the morning come in, completely unabated.
.
Evidently, she'd long since pulled my blanket off my face and taken off my sleeping mask.
.
"Nick, wake up…"
"YES Lynn," I groaned out as I finally put the effort in to get myself up. Uncoiling myself, though my Sister's best efforts had already done most of the job, I grabbed the sides of my basket with my paws and pushed up, letting my blanket slink off from the top of my shoulders and fold down into a slump of fabric covering my tail. The strain of the rise, along with the glare of the bright sunlight coming in the window certainly made me dizzy, and I shook about for a second or two before my muzzle strained open to let out a long, deafening yawn. It felt good, as if I was exhaling all the stale air I'd breathed in the night before and inhaling fresh stuff from this morning, the cool breeze chilling down the moist edges of my teeth as it passed them. The muscles and sinews at the base of my jaw were stretched to their limits, the aches coming out of them as they trembled not painful, but rather satisfying, invigorating, awakening. I was about to carry on with stretches like those, with my arms and legs and back, stretching the desire to crawl back into my basket out of me.
Sadly, Lynn was very good at catching things, as many ball games had shown. Her catching skills were very adaptable and, in this case, she caught my highly contagious yawn in an instant.
Before I could so much as place an arm behind my head and bend to the side, her eyes were closed and her tiny, stubby little muzzle peeled open in a quick, soft tribute to my own roar. Pausing, I looked on and smiled as she brought her tiny paws up to her closed eyes and rubbed her eyelids, telling me quite clearly that she wasn't as awake as she'd like me to think she was.
It was cute…
Finally bringing herself back down from her yawn, her eyes opened to reveal the honey like amber irises inside. She stood in her light pink nighty, loosely falling from her shoulders and billowing down her arms, ending up in a soft frilled hem that ended just above her ankles. I sighed, knowing that soon I'd be taking it apart and adding new bits of fabric. Lengthening it. Widening it. Making sure that it was always ahead of her in the race to grow. She'd asked if she could have a different coloured stripe this time, compared to the pink ones I'd added ever since I made it for her fourth birthday. It should have been easy, just she and I down in the shop, choosing a fabric. Of course, she changed her mind every time I asked her what colour she wanted, which complicated matters. Maybe I should just let it hang short? Regardless of its future, there was one unequivocal fact about her in that dress that overruled every other thought.
It's very cute…
Stretching my muscles up I reached my full height, towering over her to the point where I could see her little tail poking out of its hole at the back, swishing this way and that like there was no care in the world. She peeked to the side of my stomach, likely spotting my tail swishing back and forth too, before she looked up at me with her happy eyes and smiled.
Smiled big…
Smiled wide…
Smiled with a great big goofy lower fang snaggletooth sticking right out of her jaw. It wasn't a giant one that needed braces (or the closest equivalent we could make here). It wasn't a tiny little one like my old one on the top right of my mouth, which I grew out of as my muzzle got longer through my puberty. Instead it bumped up her gums, making her mouth go crooked in a silly way as it reached up to the second of her four rows of whiskers. In short, it was cute…
Indescribably cute…
"Lynn, your…" I quietly mentioned while pointing a claw at her. I didn't have to finish the sentence, my sister (dripping in Wilde sass as usual) rolling her eyes and pulling her snaggletooth back in quickly. Now it was time for me to roll me eyes, as I stepped out of my basket and knelt down so that our heads were level, noses almost touching. "You didn't have to fix that you know?"
"I know," she mumbled back, before I leaned in and gently bopped her nose with mine, before rubbing it gently against hers. She smiled and returned the favour, our noses booping and wiggling about against each others, all while I took some deep sniffs of her scent.
The scents meant a lot. When I was younger, Mum and Dad's scents had always been comforting, making me feel safe and protected from the world outside. As I'd grown up, something else in their scents had come up, an urge to protect them as well. Lynn's scent was almost all that latter urge. To protect, to shield, to keep safe and love. Even now, to fail to do so seemed like it would rip my heart asunder, though I knew that I could be completely nose blind and would still feel that way. I was pretty sure that sniffing my scent, she'd be feeling safe and secure and loved. No matter what flavour, these scents were all scents of love.
So, it came as no surprise when Lynn leaned forward, raising herself up on the tips of her toes, and kissed the end of my nose. Smiling out wide, I kissed her on the cheek in return and raised up my hand to pet her, using my claws and running them through her russet fur to massage her scalp, treating her to some more morning TLC. Her tail wagged faster, swishing back and forth audibly, before my doting grin went cunning as I brought my other paw into the side of her chest, claws all out in attack formation. Her muzzle went out wide into an open toothy grin while she chuckled and giggled and laughed at her tickling, before burrowing her head into my chest fur. I let go, moving my hand to pat her back while she turned her head and rubbed, letting her cheek smush into my musky warmth, all while I smiled back in happiness.
I loved my little sister, ten-and-a-half-year age gap regardless.
"We better get going soon for breakfast, shouldn't we Sis," I whispered into her ear, my voice making it flick and wiggle to and fro.
"Uh-hu," she mumbled back, before letting go. With a wave of my paw she was hopping and skipping out of my room, before turning towards her own as she entered the corridor. I watched as the last wisp of white on the end of her tail vanished, along with the last flutter of her pink nighty, before I stood up to close the door.
A quick yarn escaping me, I began my mourning routine in earnest as I stretched. First my arms and then my legs, I made sure to work them and pull them hard, the cold ache helping to push away the sleepiness still left inside me. Then came a dozen star jumps, a quick exercise to get the blood pumping.
A little spike of adrenaline…
A nice push against the lingering tiredness.
To top it off, I wandered over to a thick clay jug on a waiting table and poured some cool water into a bowl. My paws went in, my fur soaking down to the skin and pads chilling out, before I brought them up to my face. Splashing the area around my eyes with the cold liquid, I felt a tingle go down my spine as I finally became awake enough to reasonably function. It just about worked, though we made do and mend, as with all things in life. It was nothing compare to the few times we'd got coffee though, Dad brewing it up and sharing it with me on a freezing winters morning. Now that was a morning routine I could truly endorse!
Turning away, I grabbed a towel and furiously dried myself, rubbing the wet out of me until it became just a lingering damp that clinged on, before grabbing a brush and working on my fur. A brief tidy up here, some quick work down there and a few good runs everywhere else, from toe and tail-tip to my nape and crown. Checking over my work so far, I grabbed a finer comb and began with stage two, a more careful straightening down of my face and ear fur in front of a small mirror that was quickly finished, before it was finally time to get dressed. Off came my musty white linen boxers, before a fresh pair went on. Then came the trousers, made of more linen which had been woven as if making jeans. They had once been crisp like them too, but were now well worn in and soft, the knee pads thin and frayed. Red fur would be sticking out of them, if it weren't for the repeated shreds of spare fabric I'd sewn on the inside to take the wear and tear instead. Truth be told, given the blue dying of the warp thread (courtesy of some left-over blueberries that tragically went mouldy), it would take a good hard look to distinguish the fabric of them from real denim.
After that came a white collared shirt, completed with thick bronze buttons we'd cast ourselves years back, and a tough jacket made of the same faux denim as my trousers. A quick adjustment here and there, and then it was out and across to Lynn's room to see how she was doing. Waiting in the central corridor of the top floor, I rocked on my toes as I gave a quick knock on her door.
Silence.
Flicking my mouth around, I looked here and there at the pictures, artwork and embroidery that covered the otherwise austere grey wooden walls. There were pictures too, small polaroid snaps that were neatly framed and chronicled both our previous life in Zootopia and our one here. I preferred the latter ones far more, the small glossy pictures which showed all four of us, growing and playing and celebrating as the blissful years sailed past. My gaze lingered on one in particular, Lynn's first birthday. Dressed up in a pretty dandelion-yellow dress, she was crawling about on all four paws, a giant smile on her face as she chased a chew toy that I was dragging along the floor by a length of string. Even now, I remembered how I was coaxing her into pouncing on it, either flicking it away before she caught it or letting her bite and chew for a bit. Just after the picture was taken, she'd done a huge lunge and caught the toy firmly in her teeth, her grip so hard that I dragged both her and the rug she was on halfway across the room before the string finally broke. Relenting, and acting on advice from Mum and Dad, I let her savour her win. Back in the present I couldn't help but giggle at how she'd trotted off with the toy in her mouth before jumping straight into the wood basket lying by the fire, where she'd curled up and fell asleep.
I turned back to the door and knocked again, before pausing for a moment. Turning my ears to listen in and taking a tentative sniff, I couldn't help but sigh in annoyance as I realised what had happened. I turned and marched down the corridor, already hearing her purr's, before I went through the kitchen area and then down the stairs into the lounge, before setting my eyes on Lynn. As always in the mornings, she was cuddled up and receiving a deep tail preening from Mum, her muzzle currently buried deep in my sister's fur as it did its work.
"I see you two are occupied," I muttered as I went past, only for Lynn to hear me and look up.
"Jealous!" she called out, before giving an exaugurated scowl, her tongue sticking out and blowing a loud, wet raspberry. I knew not to react, but there was one mammal in the room who certainly would.
"Lynn!"
That stopped her.
"Really, a young lady shouldn't be doing that, should she?" Mum continued, as the seven-year-old kit looked away and fidgeted. As she let the guilt drip into her, my Mum turned to face me, shrugging as she did so while letting a faint, sly smile grow across her muzzle. "Nick, should I carry on preening her? Or should I just give her a brush, tell her to get on with it by herself and do you instead?"
I paused, tapping my foot and lifting my head high, acting out as if I had a big decision to make. Sure, I still enjoyed the occasional preening from Mum if I was tired or ill. It was like a deep, deep hug or cuddle (only better). But while I had nothing against a bit of TLC now, there was no way anyone could argue with Lynn's puppy dog eyes which were begging as hard as they could at the moment. I added a few 'hmmmm's' here and there, as if I was acting out a great debate in my mind. I let the deception go on for a little bit longer, milking it for all it was worth, before finally putting her out of her misery.
"Carry on Mum," I said with a wave, as Lynn spoke out.
"Thank you, Nick!"
Bowing, I raised my paw to doff in imaginary cap while putting on my poshest voice possible. "You're most welcome lil' Sis."
I lingered for a second or two, watching Mum bend back down with her tongue out as she set about the noisy work of preening Lynn's leg fur. Working hard and dutifully, using her teeth on the odd occasion, she worked up Lynn's right leg, not even pausing for a second as she moved her felt dress (made from shed tiger fur, hence the very fetching marbled orange, white and black pattern) out of the way. Smiling a bit as I watched two of the most important Vixens in my life enjoy themselves, I turned and walked into the front room.
.
"Morning Son."
"Morning Paps," I shot back as I turned to look at the heavy bolts of fabric hanging up on the wall. While we were limited on materials and dyes, we made the most of what we had and, by and large, did well. Certainly, none of our customers complained.
"I haven't heard you call me that name in a long time," I heard him say, chuckling at the end as he did so.
I shrugged, before turning around to face him with a smile. "You wound me father," I said, my voice laced with mock outrage as I placed my paw over my theatrically pained heart. "That you would ever think I would knowingly not call you by that name I know you love."
"I know," he replied, his dark maroon paws waving up in the air as he spoke. "It still remains the cutest mistake you ever made."
"Pardon?" I asked, my ears flicking at this sudden strange news. Dad, meanwhile, remained unfazed, letting out a soft chuckle before speaking.
"Back when you were a baby Kit, I thought it would be cute if would call me Pop's… It really took you years to get hang of your O's though, didn't it?"
My whole world rotated to the side as my head tilted sharply to the side, my mouth puckering with thought before I replied back. "Maybe I just misheard you the first time?"
"No," he said, the back of his head shaking as he did so. "I still remember your mother joking about how you'd confuse any nearby Bunnies if you tried to say Robot in public."
"Touché," I replied with a soft shrug, my head righting as it did so. "Though to be fair, Pap's sounds better than Pop's. The first is short for Papa, isn't it? That's where I always thought I got it from. Pop's though… that's the sound you get when making popcorn."
There was a soft chuckle as Dad turned to face me, his burly but loving face and warm amber eyes looking over at me. He smiled, before speaking on. "I'm not complaining, I think I loved Pap's far more than Pop's, given that it was your own cute invention… though I think your observations are quite astute. Anyway, I may need your help with the sail Son. Stay over there for now, though step in if I look like I'm struggling."
Across the tables, chests and racks that filled the room, I watched as my Dad bent down and picked up a huge bundle of cloth before hauling it towards one of his sewing machines, before I stepped forwards to handle it with him. Grabbing one end of the huge pile and taking some of the strain, we pushed up hard together to lift the thick sheet up onto one of the large tables, before I bent down to help him look through it.
"Ben said that there was a small rip," I mumbled, as we finally exposed the area where a sheet was peeling off, a triangle of loose fabric torn from the rest with tails of the binding thread still attached, trailing off like ribbons from a dress.
"That's right," Dad replied, nodding as he brought out a magnifying glass and dove in to look closer. "What do you think?"
I paused, tapping my foot on the floor before coming to a decision. "While we could resew it, it'll be weakened around that area and could tear again under high winds. I say we should resew, but also reinforce it by sandwiching it into two leftover sheets."
"Sounds about right," Dad muttered as he wandered over to a chest and brought out two shreds of tough fabric. "Does Ben care whether his sails look good or not?"
I paused, thinking about how the fit, lithe cheetah would respond to his boat getting a patchwork sail. Many who met him a few times might sit on the fence on this issue but me, being one of his long-term friends, knew differently. "To be honest, he quite likes cute things," I said, shrugging as I did so. "A bit of off-colour patchwork will certainly make his boat look that way."
"I suppose you're right," Dad said, before taking the scraps and placing them on his table. Like him, I knew how to make and mend sails, so as he prepared the sheets I brought out a big needle and a roll of thick, tough twine. With a sail, it was durability that mattered, not looks. Threading the needle with the twine and pulling it back far, I passed it over to Dad and he set to work, rapidly binding the thing back together again.
"Need any help with things today?" I asked, gently bouncing up and down on my toes as I waited for a reply. With all the work I'd done in past days around the store, I was expecting to get a free pass on this day in particular. I had something special planned, and already felt the excitement begin to tingle through me, although it could have just been the effects of me holding back for the last few weeks. As Dad paused and ran his claws along his muzzle, thinking everything over, I remembered all the effort put into planning a slew of hints and off handed remarks. I just hoped he'd caught on, almost as much as I'd hoped that he hadn't. While I was very confident in my ability to toe the fine line, this was my Dad I was thinking about, meaning the line might not even exist.
Finally he shrugged, looking over to me as he casually replied back. "No, have the day off Son." I couldn't help but give a little fist bump in celebration. In reality, it took a whole lot of effort to not jump up and shout from joy. But he seemed not to know, and I wanted to keep it that way.
"Though Mum has the usual delivery to the creamery today, so if you could…"
"Get Lynn breakfast and drop her off?" I asked, though I knew the answer that was coming.
"Of, course."
"Right on it, Paps!" With a mock salute and a big grin I was off, back into the lounge where Mum had finished with Lynn. My sister was already picking up her bags and books, as always crumpled in a pile under the stairs, left there after a frustrating night of stumbling through several homework assignments that had been left to the last minute in the vain hope that they'd just go away. Meanwhile, having finished preening Lynn, Mum was grabbing one of the metal cans kept in the corner of the room, ready to take it up to her bedroom and fill it in private. Ever since she'd weaned Lynn off five or so years ago, she'd carried on milking herself and selling her produce to the town dairy, just like many other new mothers around the town. If we wanted milk, we had to get it from somewhere, didn't we? Regardless, it paid well and certainly went most of the way to funding the cheeses and such that we enjoyed every now and again. As far as I cared, it was worth it just to get the buttermilk that made our margarine enjoyable for a change, the taste finally the same as the old Zootopian stuff rather than the tasteless spread we used to make. Then again, I wasn't the one milking myself was I? Though, as far as I could see, Mum sort of enjoyed the morning and evening routine, especially when it meant meeting up and chatting with the others in her milking group.
Speaking of which…
As she stood up I walked over to her and gave her a soft hug, patting her gently on the shoulder and letting our cheeks rub gently against each other as we silently embraced. I pulled back, quickly spotting the smile on her muzzle before I tipped my head down and gave the tip of her nose a gentle peck. Just as I pulled out, Lynn came in and gave Mum a great big hug around her waist. Mum hugged back and, after wishing her a good day at school, I grabbed her paw and led her out. We walked out through the front door, albeit after a quick detour so that Lynn could hug Dad and I could grab a bulky backpack I'd prepared last night, and both took in a deep breath of the clear summer morning air before together we made our way onwards. Both of us with a spring in our step.
.
Unbeknownst to me, as the door closed Mum leant into the front room to have a quick conversation with Dad. There were some gestures, some pointing at their noses, some laughs and some reminiscing of times long gone by. Over five minutes of discussion, which would certainly take the spring from my step had I overheard it, they fought to hold back both their tears, their giggles and their rolling eyes. I never learned the bulk of it, and they would soon forget most of it, but it ended when Mum left to start on her milking, agreeing with Dad that after dropping the stuff off at the dairy it would be a good idea to bring an Ice-pack back with her.
.
.
"Got any good lessons today?"
"Art!" Lynn almost shouted out, jumping and hopping as she held up her paws and stuck her tongue out of the side of her mouth in concentration, miming out her paw-pad painting. She loved doing it, even though it always ended up with her being marched off for a shower afterwards to get all the paint out of her fur.
"Got your painting clothes?" I asked, before she opened up her bag and pulled out the top of a thick apron, covered in multiple splodges of paint which would otherwise end up staining her clothes. "And any ideas on what you'll be painting today?"
She paused, stopping in the road as she began to think. I humoured her for a minute or so as she pondered whether to do another flower meadow, or a new type of mammal, or 'messy-messy jumble thing(TM)'.
"… The Sea!" she suddenly spurted out, before carrying on forwards with me.
"Anything else?"
"Maths and English," she said back, with a confident smile.
"Good for you Sis. What about your friends, looking forward to seeing them?"
"Danny and Alice will be there, but so will Amy…" she replied, the soft growl given as she spoke the last name evidence enough of the animosity between her and the young Coyote Pup.
"And what are you gonna do if you and Amy get into an argument."
"… I'm gonna scare her away!"
"Oh really?" I sassed, taking the time to pause and cross my arms against my chest, rapping my foot claws on the ground as I waited for her reply. "Because last time I looked Coyotes are bigger than Foxes."
"But I can scream!" she shouted out, her teeth baring as she prepared. I couldn't help but cock my head at the sight of her, the little bundle of fluff with all her hairs on end and a rumbling growl coming out of her mouth. So lovely at home, but she already had a mortal enemy out in the real world. I didn't want my ears to get assaulted by one of her piercing jagged screams, so it was evidently time to distract her.
"What about history?" I asked.
She paused for a moment, her hatred for her classmate dissolving as she thought for a moment, before shrugging. "Not too bad."
"Oh really," I asked back, my eyebrows raising at her statement. "When I was your age, I used to HATE history."
"I like the stories," she replied. "About Dad, though they do get a bit boring cuz' he already told me…"
"About the boat and leaving the city?"
"Yeah, about that," she replied, as she carried on hopping and skipping down the street in front of me.
"And you wouldn't be interested in talking to your big brother about it?" I called out, "your big brother who lived through it all and saw this town getting built?"
"No!" she shouted back, evidently not meaning to hurt me but never the less being mean in the kind of crude, blunt way that all kids can be. I planned to chide her for that, only for it to be a moot point as Lynn made her way to the bakery. Already the order of blueberry pie was being given and, by the time I got there, all that was needed was payment.
"Two dollars," the (normal/ non-Honey) Badger behind the desk asked, as I brought out the two coins required. Handing them over, the crocodiles on their upper surface showing briefly before a paw took them, I picked up the pies for my Sister and I before we set off again. Back out onto the original shopping arcade in front of the town hall, where fellow Preds were moving about and chatting in great numbers, we settled down on a small stone bench overlooking the busy park and began eating.
It was just over nine years since we'd moved here, my eighteenth having only just passed the month before and Lynn's eight a week ago, and boy our town had grown. At least seven thousand Preds now lived in the village, with at least ten dozen of them being born there, such as Lynn. The old ways of doing things, by talking and discussing and picking up your own share of work had long since become ineffective. To solve it my Dad, who had transferred from the position of unofficial mayor to official (with a landslide, might I add), had decided to bring in a currency to make things easier. At first I didn't understand why we used Reptoslavian currency rather than Zootopian notes. Years later, as I whittled away the hours of winter reading in front of a hot fire or up in the town library, I learned about the concepts of economics and finally understood. Basically, should someone come over with plenty of Zootopian money, they would be richer than the mammals over here. However, as nothing new would be being built or made, you would have more money chasing after less stuff. That meant the money would be worth less and thus everyone would get poorer. By using Reptoslav currency, however, we could control how much money we had and thus how much it was worth.
Of course, there were more complex things such as how you made sure everyone paid fair taxes, now needed since we'd started up schools and stuff, but those in charge had sorted something out, the mechanics of which was worth pondering about on another day. I couldn't help but worry on a few occasions that I'd get confused and miss a few important payments or something by mistake, though Dad assured me that he'd explain everything for me when the time was right and that I wouldn't be pulled over one day in the public and get charged with tax evasion or something.
Shaking my head, I cleared those thoughts because for now, in the soft warm sunlight and the cool breeze, it was time to sit down, relax and eat some hot blueberry pie with my sister. Slowly but surely chewing, tasting and swallowing the pie, I let the delicious tart sweetness of the filling or warm crumbly softness of the pastry fill my mouth, before I turned to check over at her. Sure as certain, she was busy gobbling out the filling in the middle, the pastry casing left empty to its sides. As I finished my own pie, she finished hers and handed me the pastry that was left, which I readily ate up myself.
Already, there was a murmur building up at the school, built across the river to the west of the town hall, as Kits and cubs arrived and began playing. Looking over at Lynn, I saw her stand up ready to go and had to lean in to stop her, my paw on her shoulder keeping her rooted to the ground.
"You got a little on your fur," I mentioned, before my tongue was out and I began furiously cleaning the soaking blue mass around her muzzle. As I loudly continued my work, sucking and licking, she gave a tiny giggle or chuckle at the affectionate preening. I didn't take long, although it seemed to take just a moment, but soon she was clean and I had a nice little extra taste of blueberry on my tongue. Taking my muzzle back from hers, I was able to look at her in the face, her red and white mask perfectly framed against the town hall behind us. Then she leaned forward and licked me, giggling as she did so.
"You too!"
I chuckled, before taking her little paw in my own and standing up, ready to lead her on. "Thank you, Sis. But you're still the messy one in the family."
"Says you!"
"Says me," I sighed, "along with everyone else in the town."
Lynn evidently missed that, instead taking the time to jump, hop and skip around me. I let go of her, letting her loose for a second, before lunging and grabbing hold of her again before she jumped straight into a puddle of mud.
'Most definitely the messy one', I thought to myself. Who knows though? Maybe it was all a clever ploy to get more cleanings from Mum?
It didn't take long, and soon we arrived at the gates of the school and Lynn ran off, giving a quick wave back to me as she did so in order to join a game of hopscotch with her friends. Moving to the side of the gate, I waited and watched her play, taking note of the other children going in. It had been five minutes, in which time I'd still not seen the expected confrontation between Lynn and Amy, before I was waked from my trance by a familiar voice.
"Nick Wilde!"
My ears pricking at the sound of my name, I turned to look up at Mrs Clawhauser who was on the other side of the wall.
"How's it doing Mrs C?" I warmly asked, as the cheetah settled herself down in front of me. When we got our first teacher over, Ben's mother had joined him in teaching the kids. The teaching roster had grown since then, and did the bulk of the important stuff you needed to know. I'd gotten a few years of intensive remedial classes back then, several from Mrs C herself, before being let loose. As it was with the older teens, as long as you were learning or doing something useful, people didn't mind if you weren't learning how to do calculus or stuff.
"Oh, so-so. And you?"
"Good," I answered back. "Learned all the tricks of my Dad's trade and such, still nothing as exciting as what your Ben's doing."
"Well," she said, shrugging as she did so. "I suppose it's good that he's out and about. Need someone to explore the islands, but I can't help but worry about his next planned outing…"
"Oh, it's just the west island, it's not as if dragons be there," I replied, remembering the time I'd spent talking to my spotted friend about all the work he'd been doing to map and explore the islands we called home. His work on the mountains to the north had already payed dividends for our energy supply, while his survey along the west coast had found outcroppings of limestone, letting us make our own cement rather than relying on secret imports from Zootopia. Most of all, there were different ore deposits peppered around the coast and river, many of which had had mining started on them to some degree or other. The whole exploring lark wasn't my cup of tea, but Ben loved it while Honey was a great help with all the gear and equipment she'd designed. What was most exciting was just how little of the islands were actually mapped or explored, something which the planned survey to the west island would help remedy. I glanced over, peering through a gap between the school buildings and spotting the smudge of the grey and green hills and mountains of the west island on the horizon, little more than thirty miles away. I couldn't help but imagine Ben and a few others landing there and exploring, testing for minerals and stuff using the tools Honey had made for him. Thinking about those two….
"What do you think of Honeyhauser?"
"Pardon?"
"You know," I said, shrugging as I did so. "Ben and Honey. I think they're rather cute together!"
Mrs Clawhauser paused, pondering a bit before shrugging back in return. "I suppose, but still… no Grandkittens… Anyway, what about you? There has to be something interesting that you've done?"
"Nothing really," I replied, before turning away as my nose caught a familiar scent, drifting towards us on the wind. Looking up, I spotted the familiar silver pelt of Mrs Vulpes coming closer. Turning to Mrs Clawhauser, I quickly fished into my pockets and retrieved a letter, before pressing to her.
"Can you give this to Mrs Vulpes please?"
She paused, before nodding, and then I set off. Turning away from the school gates, I passed Mrs Vulpes and flicked her a quick smile and a hint that Mrs Clawhauser wanted to talk to her, before I made my way towards the bridge over the river, coming just in time to see a train stop there.
.
While Finnick and I had followed our parents trade, and Clawhauser had become an explorer, Honey Badger had become Al the Wolf's apprentice. As he had overseen new homes and technology, along with a fully furnished workshop complete with forges, smelting equipment and lathes, Honey had picked up everything he knew; everything our resident mechanics, chemists or electricians knew and far, far more. She'd read up, tinkered and experimented. Borrowing from ancient techniques, she'd built a new fleet of wood fishing boats for us. She'd then designed and built her own steam engines, one of which would drive Ben's boat across the straits to the west island. While she hadn't managed generators and full scale water turbines yet, good chunks of manual work like grinding flour or cutting timber was done by the watermill she'd designed on the main river, built to work both when the flow was emptying out into the bay and when the tide reversed it. Her craziest creation so far, however, was actually brought in piece by piece from Zootopia as a special order. Like the remote controlled airplane old Mr Ibn-Zerdain had used years ago to survey the island for a landing spot, Elephant markets were excellent sources of tech. For instance, a large scale or ride-on model trainset for Elephants could easily carry any and all types of Predators. I still remembered what I'd said when I first heard of her plan.
.
.
.
"You're crazy!"
Undeterred by my opinions, Honey kept her head down, sparks flying off from a welding torch as she joined several sets of home-cast bars together to form the base of what would be a power saw. Not wanting the already painful bright lights anywhere near my sensitive eyes, I stayed firmly at the other end of the workshop, a huge square building built almost entirely made out of stone. Given all the sparks that flew around it, and the fact that we had some smelters next door, anything flammable was a no-go.
There was a brief pause as Honey's work ended, her face mask rising up as she surveyed her work. I kept on standing still, leaning against the open doorway with the soft sound of the river and the rhythmic rumbling of the watermill behind me, before the mask went down and the sparks began again in earnest. I scowled, and this time shouted. "I said you're crazy!"
…
"That's idiot speak for I'm unambitious, Slick," she called back after a short pause, never once away from her work.
"No Honeybun, it's sensible speak for, you want to build us a railway when we can't even make a glass window!"
The sparking stopped and Honey, grumbling as she did so, stood up and turned to face me, pulling her mask off to reveal the grumpiest face in mammalian history. "You just can't let that go, can you!" she huffed as she threw her tools down and began walking over. I walked over to meet her, ready to apologise for bringing up the debacle that had been our recent attempts to blow glass, only to be pushed back hard as Honey kept on moving forward.
"Honey!" I urged, only to be pushed back again as Honey continued marching forward.
"It wasn't my fault the furnace cracked, was it?"
"Honey…"
"Wasn't my fault some numb-nut thought it was a good idea to put it out by throwing water all over it, was it?"
"Honeybun…"
"Don't you Honeybun me, Slick!"
"But…"
"But, Nothing!" she practically shouted as she forced me out of the workshop and onto the covered decking that surrounded it. I kept on walking backwards, only noticing that I was under one of the arches that made up the veranda when I hit the wooden railing and my head flew back, my vision filling up with sky as my ears picked up the sound of water beneath me. Glancing to my side, I saw the fast chopping of the waterwheel and, not wanting even the slightest of chances of ending up in there, bit my pride by yelling out.
"I'm sorry, that explosion wasn't your fault! It was just some idiot! It was just some idiot! It was just some idiot….!"
…
After a few seconds of silence I tilted my head down back to the level and looked forwards, spotting the fuming Honey Badger in front of me. Her muzzle twitched a bit as if she were chewing, before she spat out. "And don't you forget it!"
"I won't!"
And with that, a giant smile returned to her face as she leant forward and grabbed me by my shirt, pulling me back into the workshop as she explained both her plan, and the reasoning behind it.
"As our town has grown," she began to say, taking a second to glance at me and check that I was still listening. "It's got harder and harder for smaller mammals to get around, hasn't it?"
"I guess so," I replied, admitting that some walks were a bit tiring.
"Well, we can solve that, can't we? I got some orders in from the mainland, and we got these big model trainsets for Elephants. Not the things you have in your loft, mind you. Big ones for out in the garden, that the Elephants can ride on. Heck, had I wanted it I could have brought some real-life steam trains with 'em too! Anyway, the way I see it is that if one of those can carry an elephant, a bit of jiggery pokery and some metalwork with the carriages and one of those can easily fit a bear or tiger into them!"
We came to a halt as Honey arrived at a large box that had just arrived on the latest boat and opened it with a knife from her tool belt. Tearing across the top, she grinned widely as she lifted out a section of metal and plastic track and let it drop hard on the floor. I couldn't help but whistle in appreciation as I stepped into it, before lying down. My feet rested on one of the tracks, but not even the tips of my ears reached the other one.
"Not so crazy now, Huh?" Honey asked as sassily as possible, her paws on her hips as she looked down on me, an infuriatingly smug grin on her muzzle.
"OK," I admitted, acknowledging that this wasn't so much of a pipe dream after all. "But where will we place them?"
"Well we built the town between the two streams, didn't we?"
"Most of it, yes. Though we have bits spilling out to the sides here and there."
"And are those steams straight and flat?"
"I guess."
"And what makes a good bit of land to put a railway on?"
I scowled, before admitting my defeat. "Well done, you put them over the streams."
"What's 'you're crazy', Slick?"
"… Idiot speak for I'm unambitious," I muttered, getting up as Honey descended into a rolling laugh. I had to admit though, it was a spark of genius. Glancing over to one of her drawing boards, I could see how she planned to cover over the culverts with wooden decking and, on top of that, built a double track line that followed one stream in from the outskirts, looped around the back of the town hall, and then followed the other one out. Sure, each branch was only about one kilometre long, which was a twenty-minute walk for me or a ten minute one for a polar bear. But it would take someone like Finnick the best part of an hour, or more than that for someone like a weasel. The train, however, would do the same trip in less than three if Honey's notes were right. Given that she had what looked like four locomotives, the wait for one wouldn't be anything more than five minutes or something.
Credit due where credit was due, if Honey pulled this off I would definitely be impressed.
.
.
.
Back in the present and putting in my own fair, I entered one of the carriages and held on to a hand rest as we set off towards the edge of town. In little more than ten seconds, we'd reached top speed (something that only Ben could beat) and after a short moment we were then slowing down again. Coming to a stop at the second of the five stations on this branch, I spotted a few otters waiting for the down train before we were off once more. For such a small vehicle, the acceleration was scary. While the locomotives had been built to run off a very small amount of power, carried in the rails themselves, Honey had considered them rather 'unambitious' and slow in their original incarnation, in which they took at least three times as long to get anywhere. Henceforth, after the rather unsuccessful first year of rail operation (which barely covered the drivers wage costs), each one had a pole installed that connected to an overhead wire. Having mastered the art of making transformers, Honey charged the unassuming bit of copper to three times the standard mains voltage. After a lot of sparks and screams from the workshop, accompanied by nights spent banging about with a hammer, Honey produced the upgraded locomotives. The end result, according to her, was that they could each produce more power than anything back on the Zootopian roads bar a semi-truck. She even boasted that it could beat some small trains that ran on the mainland.
I made the joke that she was talking about the Little Rodentia express.
Back in the present, I couldn't help but bend down and stroke my tail, reminiscing about my mistake.
Naturally, as with everything a bit OTT with that Honey badger's paw marks all over it, I was a bit concerned. Did we really need it to go that fast? Did we really need them to be able to beat an Elephant in a tug of war competition? When I asked her quite why they needed so much power she just looked at me with such confusion and incredulity, it was as if I was asking why we left Zootopia in the first place. The short end of the stick was that, for her, having anything less than the maximum power output possible was a ludicrously pointless waste of time and effort.
My concerns were vindicated somewhat when I talked to Al, who was now the official town planner (with a medal thing and everything). He stated that if they were using that much power (which fortunately they didn't, because out of utter concern he'd limited their acceleration, which meant they used a tenth at most) then one would use almost the whole of our original hydropower capacity, although over the years we'd vastly expanded how much we could generate, so it wasn't much of a problem. Regardless of his fears about the towns resident mad engineer, I couldn't help but notice how impressed he was about his little protégé. She'd already marked out the positions for extensions to the two lines, along with whole new ones that went east to west rather than north to south, some reaching across the river to take us to the fields and allotments. She'd asked for books on signalling technology to be brought over, while Al had planned out new housing plots, parks and streets around her new stations (with small mammal houses nice and close to them). She'd even been tinkering with some electronics from Zootopia, the idea being that you'd have a card with a credit balance on. That way, instead of fiddling about with change or paying a flat fair, you topped your card up and paid more the longer your journey was (or, what according to her was the more important factor, the less the shorter it was), all without labour and time that a manual ticket collection would need.
.
I offered to design a rail uniform for the train drivers…
.
Just putting it out there, I was not totally useless in this enterprise.
.
The fact that she said laughed, and then asked why on earth anyone would care about making them 'all smartypants like', doesn't mean that she won't come around. Just give her time… and then enter the tailor!
.
Which is totally as cool as being a mad engineer who designed a metro system when you were aged sixteen, while having an explorer boyfriend.
.
TOTALLY as cool…
I shook my head as I dismissed the thought, before hopping off as the train reached the end of the line. Turning, I looked north and set off with a spring in my step.
.
.
.
It was late in the morning by the time I'd reached my destination. The sun was blue, with thin wispy herringbone clouds high up in the sky, while the sun was coming out and getting warm. Very warm.
Soon after leaving the town, I'd followed the bare path that shot arrow straight up the mountain, cutting through the forests and boulder fields like a cleaver as it travelled on. Passing through them, the trees all resplendent with blossoms and new leaves, I'd come out onto the thin grass and heather moorland of the mountains themselves. From up here, bar the odd tree, it was bare all the way up. The path itself was on top of a rolling mammal-made ridge, grass and wildflowers having now colonised it, their sweet smells kicked up as I walked. They, just like the other meadows that surrounded it, rolled gently in waves from the tickling kiss of the wind. Insects chirped and hummed and sung, grasshoppers leaping out in front of me as they cleared out of the way, before settling down with one-another to eat, mate and sing.
Following the ridge, up and up and up, I finally reached its peak on a rough rock spur that separated the slope down to my village on the south to the small sheltered vale to the north. Looking back down at my home, I smiled at the sight. Our town, growing up towards me between the two streams, the town hall tiny yet still standing tall and dignified in the distance. There was a patch of green, the main park, placed in front of it. Even now I could see the stick figures of fellow Preds taking time out to enjoy it. The same could be said of the other parks, all smaller than the great one and spread about the town. Two in line with the first, circles that the towns central road travelled around on its way north, and two more out to the sides, perfect squares bordering the outer banks of the streams. All around them were the dark blue/grey roofs and walls of the houses, interspersed with the odd bit of wood from the occasional extension or log cabin. While the road surfaces were the same colour, hundreds of small fruit trees that had been planted along them turned each and every one green from up here. The whole place looked like a rubble wall, joined together with verdant green mortar.
Behind it all stood the bay, small enough from up here to block out with my two palms. The tide was out and the soft warm orange sand, riven with the neat lines of gnawed marker posts, was exposed for all to sea. Crawling in from the shoreline and into the great, seemingly never ending forests beyond were the fields of farmlands: brown, pale green or bright yellow with new spring growth that was slowly ripening.
And the air…
So fresh, so young and pure.
'Yes, life is good.'
Turning the other way, I followed the dike down a short distance till I reached its end, a small blue lake. Water, freezing cold from the river roaring down into it from the mountain above, lay there as still as it could be. Crystal blue as it reflected the azure sky above it, yet still clear enough to see the rocks and the few fish swimming beneath the surface, I knew that, though not snowmelt, it might as well have been. Even as I got closer, the wind sailing over it felt slightly colder and I knew that I didn't want to make myself suffer that, but it was still enticing none the less.
It wasn't a real lake, it had been made by damming a river. From it, a massive pipe had been laid to siphon off water, all smelted and cast from our own copper ore that we'd discovered years ago, before being reinforced in thick concrete and buried under rock, soil and stone. According to Al, we could take up to five times the water from here as went through our own streams. Given the height difference as well, we could generate one hundred times as much power as our first power station. We'd used about a tenth of that so far, but of course our town was always growing, and it needed its power. Unsurprisingly, Honey had overseen much of the work, including making gunpowder to blast through some really awkward chunks of rock.
.
'I know and can name all twenty-five core types of stitching…'
.
'Do you realise how pathetic that sounds? Just accept that your friends are doing cooler stuff than you!'
.
'They'd be NAKED without ME!'
.
'…OK self-confidence, you win with that one! Well done! [CLAP-CLAP-CLAP-CLAP-CLAP]'
.
'Thanks for the surrender nagging sense of lingering envy, now… let's go by this pool and fish…'
.
.
Setting up my rod, threading on some bait from my tackle-bag and casting off, I rested my head on the backpack and relaxed. My hindpaw on the rod, I let myself drift into some kind of half world dream state. Flicking ideas and fantasies passed through my mind, along with the whistling on the wind. I felt myself warm up as the sun moved through the sky, warming different parts of me as it past. There were errant twitches of my fur as something small and alive crawled up it, along with the odd tremble of my rod that brought me back to the world of the living.
Morning carried on ticking by.
.
Getting later,
.
And later,
.
And soon to be afternoon.
.
But then my nose caught a sniff in the wind, and I knew I wouldn't be going to sleep just yet. Smiling as I knew that my carefully planning had all come together perfectly, I stayed silent and still, my ears pricking as I heard the sounds of crunching feet on the ground approach.
.
Closer…
.
Closer…
.
Quieter…
.
I let myself open the edge of my eye and give myself a close peak. I was right. She was trying to sneak up on my.
.
Down on all fours.
Each one taking its turn to slowly move forwards. Lifting up, flicking out in front and then slowly settling down on the soft grass. Gently falling until its pads touched the soft earth, ever careful to not make a sound.
.
I let her humour herself as she carried on approaching, hungry…
I could smell just how hungry she was.
How it was clawing at her insides.
The scent was overpowering.
Exciting…
Making me hungry too…
.
She was close now. Very, very close.
.
Silent.
.
I heard the twigs snap as she pounced and I turned, leaping up to catch her. Her eyes were wide and predatory, her face a vicious snarl ready for the kill, but I was waiting for her. She hit me hard, knocking me back as her scent became overpowering. My paws were fast too, racing up to her chest and slamming it back. She grabbed by shoulders, as I gripped her and she gripped me in return. We were locked together as I braced myself, trying to push forwards against the assaulting force by digging my foot claws into the soft earth.
Her momentum was too strong…
I felt my feet begin to buckle and my spine bend back, threatening to collapse. I wouldn't allow that. I let one foot go loose while the second pushed hard in a new direction. I spun, gripping her hard, her clothes and skin in my paws as I twisted and we collapsed to the side. Me taking her with me.
.
We fell.
.
We hit the soft bed of grass and the springy ground and rolled, tearing up the mountain thyme and heather as we tumbled, sending their scents up into the air as if creating a great perfume.
.
My right paw out, I let it hit the ground hard and steady myself, so I was looking down at my Prey.
And she up at hers.
.
"Grrrr….!" I roared, my voice far more playful than furious as I bared my teeth and lazily batted a paw at Hester Vulpes, who lay beneath me, panting furiously in the aftermath of the thrill.
"GRRRR!" she roared back, louder but still mocking, her teeth bared.
I lowered myself down and gave her a soft kiss, and she raised up her head to do likewise.
"Enough of that, Killer. I was told you had some food?" she said, to which I smiled and shrugged.
"Oh, sure I do, but are you going to leave me alone while I get it?"
"I wouldn't be much of a lady if I killed the Todd who feeds me, would I?"
I got up from her and made my way up to the bag, where some sandwiches were waiting. For me. For her.
I'd been friends with her since I met her.
We'd had our first kiss with each other, though we soon decided it wasn't a real one.
Our first real one however, we had also shared...
And over the years, the cheeky little Vixen who I'd met had turned into the flirty Vixen who I'd grown to lust and love.
Who haunted my dreams…
Whose scent and image drove me mad…
Who was always framed in my fantasies, making me madly excited and…
SPLASH….
My ears pricked at the sudden sound and turning around I only caught the briefest glimpse of the water hurled towards me before it hit.
Like a stone…
Like a cold stone that shivered me to the bone and pierced down to my fur. The shock startled me, making me scurry up the hill while yelping out, all while Hester just stood there, ankle deep in the water with dripping hands and a stupendous grin on her face as she laughed and laughed and laughed.
.
I couldn't allow that.
.
I growled. For real this time, before my claws came out and I was down on all fours. Who cared if I messed up and went into the lake? My blood was hot. I needed cooling down.
My narrowing eyes met hers, we paused, and I charged.
Faster and faster and faster, blood pulsing through me as she realised her mistake, her eyes suddenly wide as she turned and fled, laughing as she did so.
"I'M GONNA GET YOU, HESS!" I screamed out, all while her foolish laughing carried on and on. She was out of the water now, though it still rippled from the splashes she had made while running through. She was on the land, getting faster and faster.
But I was faster still…
I came up to her, past her tail whose white tip was dripping wet with lake water.
Past her flowing lavender blouse, flickering in the wind.
I pounced, letting by back legs send me flying through the air, my hands out. I grabbed her paw, and pulled.
She leapt, and pulled back.
Once more I tumbled with her, hitting the ground and rolling. Our clothes and fur getting covered in the gorse and other undergrowth.
I growled.
She chuckled.
I raised my paw, claws out.
The blood drained from her face.
I attacked.
.
She screamed out.
.
I continued. Merciless.
.
Her screams kept on roaring out as her eyes slammed shut, her wide-open muzzle more than making up for it.
.
I carried on. Any cries of mercy ignored. She deserved none.
.
She laughed. Softly at first as she tried to resist, but then harder and harder and harder as I carried on my attack. My other paw dived in, hitting the soft part of her side beneath her ribcage. My two paws united in their efforts. She kicked… She screamed… She almost cried….
.
I let off…
.
She was defeated.
Panting…
Weak…
"I deserved that…" she muttered, chuckling as she did so.
"Did you deserve that?" I asked out loud, pondering the question. "Yes, yes you did…"
"Mind cleaning me?" she asked, feigning her innocence as she stuck one of her fingers into her mouth, hooking her lip with her claw, and looked cutely up into the sky. It was an innocence which I knew she didn't possess. Her jaws were now slightly apart, clawed paws now meekly holding themselves beneath it, all curled up, and her dark amber eyes now focussed squarely on mine. Her eyelids fluttered a few times.
Sly Vixen…
"Only," I teased, taking the time to move my paw forward and walk the claws up her arm. "If you clean me too." We both nodded, and we both leant in.
Our muzzle buried themselves in each other's fur, our tongues were out and tasting it. Our teeth were out, preening and pulling it straight. I felt her massage me, lovingly, as she pulled my fur back into position and I did the same to her. I could taste her. I could smell her. I could hear and feel her purring deeply. It made me want to love her. Kiss her. Protect her. It made me feel loved and safe and secure… It made me excited… I dug in closer and closer, preening and licking the dirt and grime off her, cleaning her to a deserving state as she did likewise.
I moved forward, ready to rub myself on her, to claim her as mine, only she made the first move. Her teeth, which had been rubbing and scratching me as they did their work, bit me.
She bit me.
It was tender.
It was soft.
It spiked all my extremities up, winding me like a coiled spring.
.
I paused.
.
I got up front her and looked down.
"You know Hess, I was sort of planning of holding back if you wi…"
I was cut off as she went up and rubbed her check against my own. Making the first move again…
.
I looked down. I smiled. I laughed. She laughed back…
.
Our muzzles were buried in each other's fur within a second, working more furiously that ever before over all parts of our faces. Our tongues out, their grating sound ringing out, while our teeth gently bit each other, softly nipping against the skin.
Her paws went forward, straight to my shirt…
It flew off and she was working at my chest, I could feel the soft wet lick of her tongue against my nipples, taking time and circling around the first. Teasing and pulling and rubbing and sucking. First one. Then a second. Then a third, and a fourth…
My head down, I rubbed my cheek against hers. Finally claiming her as my own. Finally rubbing my own scent against her as she had against me. Finally satisfied than even an almost nose-blind mammal wouldn't dare think of her as available anymore. Satisfied, I readied my teeth and tongue went in to work on the back of her head. Working down, my tongue lapping out and preening as it went. Biting and licking, even as I approached her nape…
"BITE ME THERE!"
.
I paused, looking down at the sensitive flab of skin, thinking about my own.
I gulped, my mind cooling down as it came back to the real world.
"Hess," I began to say, "I may not like you doin…"
"JUST BITE AND PULL NICK!" she screamed. Her growl, fierce, angry but full of passion tugged me.
I did as she asked. I went down and bit her nape deep with my fangs, anchoring them into the soft flesh. I pulled her up.
Her head stopped working on my chest while her arms, which had been working around near my tail, trying to unbutton my trousers, dropped down limp.
I paused, my ears straining till they heard her groans and whimpers…
Of pleasure… Of desire.
I pulled up, trembling as I took the weight of her torso in my jaws. She now purred… Louder and louder and louder.
My cramp in my muscles getting worse, I let go. She dropped, paws catching her as she fell. She shook her head and looked up at me, her eyes on fire and her teeth bared.
"I liked that," she said softly, but with a deadly hint of malice or seduction or something else. "I was yours, Slick…"
"Want to make me yours?" I asked, still feeling a bit nervous about the whole idea as she nodded. I turned over, closed my eyes, and felt her take my nape.
I felt myself lose control.
My limbs went loose, still there but almost hanging. I tried to scream at them to move, to even twitch, but they refused. Whatever I tried to command my body to do, it refused. I was a ragdoll, at her mercy.
My eyes opened, fluttering half shut as I just made out her twitching ears as I was pulled up the mountain.
It was painful…
A good pain…
A great pain…
She was right, I was now all hers in every way shape and form. I was at her mercy. She was my master. She was in control. I didn't want it any other way…
.
She let go…
.
I felt myself in charge of my shuddering, twitching limbs once more. My mouth too, my voice coming back. I was in control. Mastery of my own body came flooding back to me in an instant and I flipped over and I looked at her in the eye and our muzzles met. Cocking to each other's side, we let our mouths envelope each other's and lock together.
Teeth against teeth…
Tongue against tongue…
We began pulling… and sucking and exploring and licking. I felt her sharp points and warmth and moistness and the ridges on the top of her mouth. I could taste her, heck I could taste the food she'd eaten for breakfast! While I could detect the sweet tartness of berries and sickly honey in her, her warm tongue and the hot saliva of her mouth was like a flame in comparison. I could feel her tongue work its way through my mouth too, and in and around my teeth and on the top of my mouth or down my throat. I pulled back, a gap between us, though I pushed my tongue in further as she twitched and moved. We let go of each other, only to come back in again. I felt a cut, she cutting me. Sharp tooth against soft flesh. I tasted my blood. Hot blood. Tangy blood. Metal blood. Sweet blood.
We let go and looked at each other.
Panting, tongues out.
Our limbs twitching.
"First time?" I asked.
She nodded, and asked the same question back.
I nodded in return.
"Last time to back out Hess," I warned, her final time, I…
She went forward, her mouth open and enveloping my own. Sharp teeth pricking it, sealing my whole snout shut. Like a muzzle.
'OH,' I thought, purring in pleasure as I lowered myself down into submission. 'I like a girl who's in charge…'
I nodded as she let go, my paws racing to make their way to her blouse. I tore it off her, as she went for my trousers. Then her skirt. Then our underwear.
Our blood was boiling.
Our parts wet and quivering.
Our legs and arms twitching and aching.
.
We paused. As if on the edge of a precipice. Together we nodded, it was time. Time to become one.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
"I told you, that we'd both regret the sixth go…."
"AH shut up…." she called back weakly, before her paw gave a quick splash, flicking my face with the cold water.
The blissful, blissful cold water.
Cold water we'd been so far been kneeling in for the last half hour or so, dulling the screaming agony of our bruised and broken flesh as we recovered… recovered from… That….
I'd file it away as a dream or something, were it not for the evidence all around us.
And the memories… Those golden memories that were branded into my mind…
"I, I think it's OK now," she muttered as she lifted her tender form out of the lake, letting the water drip off her fur as she stumbled back to her clothes.
I just stood in the water.
Watching…
Waiting…
"Hess? Is it safe?" I called out.
"Yeh," she tried to shout back, only for it come out as weak whimper. I turned back to my own predicament. Sure, the cold water had dulled almost all of the screaming pain down there (and under such a guise, along with the reassuring fact that this wasn't drinking water, anything else that could further inflame it later had also been done) but once I was out I was out. Sure, my Vixen was safe, but she'd had a far higher tolerance (or appetite) than I had. Then again, she'd had eight to my six.
I looked down to my paw again and shoved it in the water, giving it a quick swill.
If it weren't for the odd fact that I enjoyed the lingering taste, I'd been swilling out my mouth with the next uncontaminated water that I could find…
I gulped, time to do and dare…
I stood, letting the water fall off me as I tidied myself away. I paused, then wandered up to her. It was only when I approached her that I realised she was sleeping. Wrapped up tight in a bundle, like a swirling cinnamon bun. Only this one was crimson and cream and with a glorious mane of silver. Made of warm fur and flesh, that slowly rose and fell, that called to me.
I cuddled down next to her, wrapping myself in her so that she was my basket. So that she enveloped me. And I drifted off to sleep.
.
I was dark and dreamless, but just what I needed. For when I woke up, I was back in a dream that no mind could come up with.
My Vixen was awake, with me.
Alone…
Naked…
Together…
We spent the time tidying each other, preening gently this time with our tongues and teeth, only the occasional love bite coming through. However many fewer they were, their tenderness made up for it, the sharp pricks tart sweet.
The perfect desert.
I felt loved once again, though a different love than that which I knew before. An exciting love. A new Vixen to preen me and keep me tidy.
A Vixen to keep tidy myself.
I preened and licked and huffed as I made my way all over her body and she all over mind.
Through the bits that tickled.
Through the bits covered in grime and dust.
The bits still covered in water, or us, or each other…
Through our tails, as we worked out the knots in the fur.
Preening did feel good. Sooooo gooood. To be loved, and to feel a loved one's body on yours, keeping you clean and healthy….
But by God, did preening someone else give it a run for its money.
Working away, feeling her fur with your tongue and tasting it… However tedious it may have seemed it lasted far too short a time.
And I'd do it all again and again, to keep my Vixen pretty…
"Slick…" I let my ears prick, catching her tired voice as she continued. "I know you're loving that… I am too… But you do know that I have four other nipples that need doing?"
"I know," I replied, through a face full of fur. I chuckled as I lifted up and moved down, gently licking around another of the small bumps buried deep in her coat, as she chuckled and hugged me tight…
We carried on, until the sun slowly began to sink back down, taking the day with it.
.
It was late afternoon by the time we managed to put our clothes on, making some semblance of an effort to make them look as presentable as we'd made each other. We made it up to the brim of the ridge, spotting our town below, before her legs buckled and I volunteered to carry her.
Another mistake…
Another mistake worthwhile.
I ached and huffed as I carried her down, feeling her body against my back. My tail wagging, it caught hers and they intertwined. While it had happened many times before, it had been involuntary.
Or forgotten against more pressing matters.
But here, it was a last bit of soft intimacy that kept us going...
I groaned and panted in the heat as I took her load, the odd bit petting she did on my head going a long way.
I remembered my bag, left at the top of the hill…
That could wait…
Maybe I could pay some kid to go up and bring it down?
I sighed…
I wanted to go home and cuddle with her. Sleep in my basket…
Did she know I slept in a basket…?
.
.
Would she care...?
.
She was asleep now… Maybe I could sneak her in, and she'd just have to accept it as part of the deal…
.
Maybe she'd like it?
.
I shook the thoughts from my head, though I did smile when I heard her snoring, as I carried on home…
Home…
If I tried that back in my old home, back in Zootopia, I'd be burnt to a crisp wouldn't I?
Those most certainly were primitive, savage instincts, weren't they?
I shook the bad thoughts of my old home from my mind but they came back. Truth be told, for better and for worse, there were many things we were missing here.
.
The hate.
.
The collars.
.
The TV.
.
The discrimination.
.
The nightlife and the excitement.
.
The collars again (because, let's face it, it's a really big point.)
.
The city sights and sounds.
.
Those speciesist mammals with their fox-away.
.
The lack of freedom.
.
All the different foods.
.
The lack of destiny.
.
The lack of hope.
.
All the different music, more made every day than you could ever listen to.
.
The abuse and name calling.
.
The thousands of prods and pokes, and the hoofs over wallets whenever you walked past.
.
The many, many prods and jabs…
.
.
.
AN: Funny fact, that is the reason (more or less) why I have Nick call his Dad Pap's. Doing the rewrite for ZTOP, I thought it would make their bond more heartfelt (and I was inspired by Zistopia). Rechecking Zistopia (specifically the vixen is a rabbit scene) I... suffice to say mistook the o in 'Pop's' for an a. The rest is history.
.
(And it is a perfectly valid pronunciation. If you don't believe me watch the sharks with laser beams scene from Austin powers 3.)