Fox’s Quest
Foxes of the Midnight Sun
Book Two
by
K.R. Alexander
Copyright © 2019 by K.R. Alexander.
All rights reserved.
Cover art by Angela Fristoe, Covered Creatively.
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Complete Foxes of the Midnight Sun trilogy:
Fox’s Dawn
Fox’s Quest
Fox’s Night
Additional titles by the same author available on Amazon.
Chapter 1
Night 5
Toes on cool stones, slip, slide, splash, and hop back. Water roared in my ears. Could I make the jump? A fine boulder jutted just enough from the river to tempt my leap. Yes … I could make it.
I focused, whiskers out, eyes narrowed, ears pricked, taking in every flicker of star, moon, and shimmer of reflections off the rushing river’s surface to guide me. I flexed muscles in my haunches, quivering, swinging my brush left and right, bunching down for strength and balance…
Or should I take a run at it? No … the landing was too precise. Six inches to one side, too far, too short, and I would plunge into the river. That meant a fast trip west to the waterfall where I’d played only a few hours before with Demik, Mej, and Komu. It meant cold, dark, ruined pelt, water down my sharp nose, and a long hike back up the slope. This would have to be a mousing leap: forepaws together, pinpoint accuracy.
I crouched, fixed, ready, then sprang just as a yip sounded from up the bank to my right. Mej was calling to me.
Up across the rolling, boiling water that sped for the falls. Out, out, out, cold air through my nose, river spray in my whiskers, paws ready. Then hit, slide—scrabbling with four sets of claws, brush swinging as a counterbalance, stone unyielding and slick with water.
The top of my brush met the river, followed by one right paw, then … stable. I found my grip with hard claws and soft, furry paws. What a leap! With the spray and summer night breeze fluttering over my face, I turned back, heart soaring, triumphant, thrilled to share this rush with Mej, who dashed along the bank.
Like a dance, leaping across the river. A furred dance: rhythm and beat of the water, the night, my own heart and breaths. Mej would join me. We would dance our way across to the human camp on the other side.
He showed up clearly, with my sharp eyes picking out every motion by moonlight as well as my skin eyes saw in daylight. Mej darted to the edge that I had just left, shrieking, calling to me with his jaws wide.
It turned from a “Look here” yip to a real alarm bark.
I crouched, tense, and sniffed quickly around, up and down the stony bank. I smelled nothing of concern. Nothing moved besides the river, Mej, and Komu—also coming from up the river, cocking his head.
I looked the way I’d been heading, on across the river. Still, nothing amiss to smell or see. The water’s roar all but deadened my hearing as I stood among it. It did strike me, as I gazed that way, that there wasn’t anywhere to go next. Here was a stepping stone, the one I was on. There … river, river, river, then bank. Could I make a leap of … forty brush-lengths?
I considered, shifting paws with the wonderful dance.
Yet … no… Probably…
Mej yapped and huffed. It was a rude sound, like a vixen reprimanding kits, and I again looked all around. Still nothing.
Komu was now beside him, head tipped, massive ears turned into the pale horizon. We had twenty or thirty minutes of semi-darkness left. The men would go on sleeping long after that, the Yukon night being only a few hours in high summer. Still, Demik had been adamant that none of us be seen by the loggers in fur, and darkness was the only way to visit like this. Demik had also been adamant that I should not change again so soon. He’d said we must wait for the next day to approach them in skin—and mentioned several other points that hindered the dance.
I’d had to slip away from him after a couple hours’ sleep, waking Ondrog in fur but not Demik in skin. Mej and Komu had already been changed since our climb up from the waterfall. I only needed to change and get across to the logging camp. Then I could discover what I remembered about the place in darkness before the men were up. I knew … something. Something important about the camp, something I had to figure out.
The trouble was getting over to it. I had to make the return leap to Mej on the bank, in spite of his nasty language. Sharp, jerking sounds now, and apparently addressing his gekkering toward me.
I knocked into him as I landed, not even wetting my paws this time. Mej snapped and squawked, but under his breath, ears back and fangs showing in a gape. If we wakened Demik he would stop us getting to the camp at all—even if there had been a way. He could stop me while I was in fur. He could simply pick me up. Maybe I would struggle, but I could never bite Demik. Probably couldn’t even bring myself to struggle…
I pawed Mej’s neck, lips parted, smiling at him. What ailed him?
Komu, so leggy and skinny he looked like a new aspen sapling, dashed back up the bank, glancing over his shoulder at me. His thin, delightfully long brush flashed with the white tip to follow.
Unable to humor Mej, I accepted the invitation to dart after Komu. Mej, jaws stiffly shut, joined me.
Both ran ahead, up a slight slope, close against the bank, and … ah.
Running from the south bank to the north one stretched a huge timber bridge, large enough for two horses to walk abreast—indeed smelling of horses, men, leather, rust, steel, tree sap, tobacco, and two male dogs who tasted young and reckless as I opened my mouth to inhale.
Komu trotted onto the bridge and turned, sweeping his brush around with a flourish. Mej stopped at the end to give me another grumble.
I rubbed my body across his fluffy white chest as I passed. He was ever so clever for knowing about the bridge instead of hunting for stepping stones. But he didn’t need to be snappy about it. While he’d been being clever I’d made that delightful leap.
To remind him, I pounced onto Komu, who was still flirting his brush and many long strides distant. We tumbled over the boards with soft chirps and gurgles that were lost to the river noise, then dashed off the other side, making a race of it. Komu beat me, but I tripped him with a smart bite to the hock, sending us both tumbling again.
He rolled, reared, shrieked, and fell.
A dog barked.
We froze.
Chapter 2
Mej drove us apart, his larger size—along with immaculate, plush orange coat—setting a barrier between us.
Bark, bark, bark in the night over the river’s roar.
Mej stood motionless, head up, ears pricked to the camp. Komu had tumbled on his side and lay still, panting slightly, also listening. I crouched low at Mej’s hind legs, heart thumping with the sound of the dog’s fast warning.
Bark, bark, bark—another joined in. The second called in agreement rather than actual alarm. Only one had heard the fur tussle.
The sounds made me shiver: something beating down, trapping me there. Bark and can’t get away, only cringe and hide—nowhere to hide, nowhere to go, no way out. The taint of the dogs’ odor added another layer of fear. Bark, bark, bark…
A man yelled. Something in English. I knew the sound of the language. I still didn’t quite catch the words even when it seemed to me I should remember English. We spoke Vulpen together in our skin, or Na-Dene tongues around Ondrog. English, though … it should be there … waiting fo
r me to remember…
Another man shouted, “Hush up!” Words slow to translate in my head.
The barking faded. One more, then quiet. Only the river sang.
Komu flattened his ears at Mej and flashed his brush, offering an apology.
My paws shook under me. That bark still vibrated through me. Yet I could get away. This time … away.
I slunk back to the bridge. A bridge smelling of men and dogs and horses… A second ago, it made me think of Dawson City, of dancing and strawberry bonbons and three stories. Now…
My teeth clattered, brush dragging the ground, belly low, trembling as I veered off from touching the stinking planks and slunk up this side of the riverbank—away from that camp of canvas tents and log buildings, of men and dogs and horses. Also away from Demik and Ondrog, waiting for us back on the other side in our camp, well away and hidden from the loggers in the forest. I paused.
Mej was right there, sniffing me over, tasting my fear.
I heard his own heart beating steadily, his irritation gone. He smelled smooth, slow, like snow melting in the sun. Not scared. A safe smell.
I leaned against his dark umber forelimbs.
Komu trotted after, regarding me curiously, head cocked once more. He wasn’t afraid either, only alert to the location of the dog and everything else.
Then … I shouldn’t be afraid … right?
Of course not. There was no dog here now. Besides, there was every way out—every direction open for flight. Across the bridge were Demik and Ondrog, strong, safe, armed with a wolf’s strength and teeth and a human’s hunting rifle that Demik had beside him while he slept in skin.
I shouldn’t have left Demik. What if he woke and was scared?
Then … the dog… Demik would be awake now after all. He and Ondrog wide awake and alert, knowing we were gone. Ondrog had watched us go. He knew while Demik did not. Nor could he tell Demik in his fur.
We would have to go back—tell Demik ourselves.
After all Demik had done for me, I felt a rush of hot shame as I leaned into Mej. He rested his muzzle across my neck in an embrace.
I should never have snuck away from Demik. Sometimes Demik had ideas that didn’t seem right. Like the idea that I should not visit Dawson City. So I had to do what I needed, no matter about Demik. But those times were rare, important. Sneaking from Demik at night, walking into barking dogs, into traps, wasn’t the same as face-to-face choices.
It hadn’t hurt me to change again. He’d worried about that, yet I felt fine. There was even this bridge so we could get where we wanted to go. But the dogs…
I caught my breath, then returned to the bridge. Strong man and dog smells on it stopped me. These men, this place, all right there in my nose, my eyes… Only I wasn’t sure what eyes and nose were telling me.
I hesitated at the timber planks.
Komu lay down with his chin between his paws. Mej also sat beside me, waiting.
Waiting for what? For the dogs to … go back to sleep?
What about Demik? What about sunrise?
We waited. I listened, nose to the bridge, but didn’t hear Demik’s step beyond the river, much less any calling voice. Of course, if Demik woke, he would know what we were up to. I’d said I wanted to go in fur. Perhaps he wouldn’t worry then? Yet … he certainly hadn’t wanted me to go. Demik seemed terrified of the men. Not these logging camp humans, but all humans in general.
Why? They hadn’t done anything to us. For an instant it had seemed to me they might be dangerous with their dogs and their traps. Because of Demik’s warnings? Or because of my own hidden memories?
At last, with the horizon pale from dawn, Mej moved forward. Komu and I followed, stealthy, silent, padding on softly furred paws, heads low, taking in ground and air scents at once.
Mej slowed even more, glancing to me.
I’d almost forgotten why we were here as I’d thought of dogs and Demik.
Whole body tense, from the tip of my quivering nose to the end of my luxurious brush, I crept around the camp. By scenting, pausing, and testing the wind with my whiskers, I could pinpoint almost exactly the locations of the two camp dogs—one at the entrance to a bunk tent and one in the crude stable with two draft horses.
Avoiding these, I slunk, sniffing, through camp. Mej and Komu followed, strung out behind, also checking around.
I had smelled this camp before, I was sure of it. But I’d already been sure even by the sight that I’d been here. What about the rest of it? Why had I been here? With whom? Family must have been with me, or near, so where were they now? At least my mate must be nearby. I couldn’t quite remember him, yet if I caught his scent I could know him. Just as hearing my own name had made that memory return, smelling my mate or mother or siblings would bring them back. They must be out there … somewhere… Somewhere near?
We would have been traveling, seeking a new range. A long journey, a quest for something better than what we’d had. Yes, very long, and so tired. Stumbling to the logging camp, perhaps we could have traded…?
Skins for canned goods? It was summer. We shouldn’t have needed trade with humans. Perhaps, though, a rifle? Or cartridges? Perhaps we’d wanted only news, information about the river, where this led, or which it was. The Yukon was a place of millions of lakes and rivers, all of which were unrecognizable in their summer forms versus winter forms. Perhaps we’d only needed a little guidance. The men would be sending their timber harvest down the river, which meant to a town.
Yes … so many reasons we might have stopped for a word. So many reasons I might have come through the camp. Only … then I’d been in the river in my fur. Alone.
Where was my family now?
I caught only a whiff of a fox, familiar, but I couldn’t quite line my whiskers up to it.
Puzzled, I tried trailing. It was split, disjointed, old.
I carried on, circling the camp, finding no more.
Sunbeams were touching treetops far overhead before we stumbled across a spot of interest in the ground to Komu.
We returned to him as he snuffled around a circle, scratched at the earth, then rubbed the scented patch under his chin thoughtfully on the spot.
I sniffed around as well. Yes, that same fox. Not a total fox, but a shifter. Still…
I opened my mouth to inhale where Komu had rubbed his chin. He smelled bright and active and pretty as a sunset. I rubbed my face idly on the dirt as well, which felt so good I flopped to my side for a roll on my back. It was that smell of his—making me feel ticklish all over, thinking of how he’d learned so well to wait for my signal a couple of nights ago.
The taste of the earth was familiar, tingling my tongue like Komu’s stimulating scent. Only … this one wasn’t pleasant. There was something bitter, sharp in the earth and I got up, quickly shaking my coat down to my brush.
Mej also studied the area with his nose and tongue. He cut me a look.
Light was coming. The ground was bitter. I started past, then spared a final sniff for what had them so interested. There, mingling in the spot I’d rolled, was that same fox scent. Faint yet, yet… Me.
That lingering fox aroma around camp was me.
What about the others? If we followed my trail would we find them? Could we follow my trail? The scent was stale, almost reabsorbing. There was one particular spot where it came through strong, with saliva and a sharp, harsh tang. It made me think of … falling. The hurt at the end of the fall. Fall and crash and pain. Blood? Yes, old blood spots here.
I slunk away. Mej moved to leave, checking the sky and keeping an eye on bunk tents.
Komu found the trail out, my own scent, yet that scent vanished almost at once, never leading away from camp. Anyway, I wasn’t trying very hard. Nor, it seemed, were Mej and Komu. Anxious now with light, listening for voices of men or dogs, I loped back to the bridge.
But someone was already there.
Chapter 3
My heart sped. My fur stood on end. The fear rus
h with the sight of man on that bridge was as strong and quick as the bark of the dog.
I froze, ready to spin, flee—gone. Demik had been right. There was something dangerous about the human beings. Something frightening that some part of me remembered, even if I couldn’t think what.
Yet … there stood one on the other side of the bridge. He wore deerskins, not wool trousers or cotton shirt or fitted vest. Then his odor arrived and I read in a sniff that he wasn’t a man at all. He was a dog-fox. There, lurking in the gloom and trees some distance back from the bridge and river, stood Ondrog in his fur.
Mej had only given a start at the figure, then gone on across the bridge. Komu was coming up behind me and did not pause.
I sniffed, flattened my ears, swung my brush, and scampered across the bridge to him.
“Summit—” Demik took only a step onto the bridge, his own voice tight and scared as if he’d mistaken me as well—or only misplaced me.
I sprang at him, as big a leap as for my one stepping stone, and Demik caught me in his arms. I burrowed against him, feeling perfect in his arms, love in his aromas, joy in the sound of his heartbeat, ecstasy in his hold around me. I squealed, but soft now, hardly knowing my brush lashed about as he embraced me. Nudging, nibbling, licking around his face, his neck, his hands.
Demik said, “Why would you do that? Summit, I told you these people are never to be trusted.” And other things I didn’t hear. His tone changed and he kissed my head in return, held me tighter.
It had been at least an hour since I’d been curled up with him in skin. A long time to miss him, to need him beside me. Now, here he was, the joy of the embrace leaving me breathless and deaf to his words—all besides my name.
“Summit, Summit…” His tone scared, angry, then all soft and melted like my own. I knew he hadn’t meant it. Demik understood. He’d brought me out here to search for anything familiar to help get my memory back. He knew I had to explore to find it.
Now, though, it was the next day, a few hours of sunlit night left around us. Now was the day Demik had said we could go home. Not to my home. I had no idea where that might be. But to my new home with him and Mej and Komu. They should ask Ondrog to be a part of the strays den—he was so painfully lonely he hurt my heart. The dog-foxes kept their own stray’s quarters and Ondrog lived in his own tepee separate from the settlement—the only wolf in a clan of foxes. We had the whole walk back home, days, to show off what a good friend Ondrog could be.
Fox's Quest: A Foxy Reverse Harem Shifter Romance (Foxes of the Midnight Sun Book 2) Page 1
