Demik sat nearby, cross-legged, waiting with a knife in his hands and a slightly revolted look on his face.
The other three had the fire going. Komu was back in skin and also wore Dawson City trousers with suspenders on his bare shoulders, brushing at mosquitos and leaning into the growing smoke to drive them away. Summit was laughing with Mej, entertained by something he’d said. A prickle of resentment made Ondrog turn away.
He lay with his back to them, right at the river’s edge, and chewed the bloody bone and sharp hoof until he forgot about this disagreeable sight over the pure meditation of a long chew and a full stomach.
Demik cut away portions of the meat and organs to cook.
The happy foxes settled around the fire while flies settled on the remaining bloody bones and Ondrog chewed and lost himself in the memory of how it had felt when she’d said he was brave, when she’d touched him, even kissed him. A far cry from a hair-chewer when she was in skin. If they’d both been in skin… No, he was sure she would have kissed him even then. She was like that. Hence, she already had her suitors. Not him. Not the wolf in a fox’s clan.
All the same, if he was so wrong for her, if she had only caught him in a weak moment alone, but they were worlds apart, why was he not immune to her innocent charms? Rather than only being able to pretend he was?
Chapter 7
This night, the foxes were not dainty eaters. As any decent fox or wolf would, they presented Summit with the heart and liver—always reserved for females of pup-bearing age. But she eagerly shared them around.
Soon, huddled close in the mosquito-repelling smoke, the four foxes were devouring half-cooked venison with nearly the enthusiasm of wolves. They ate while Ondrog, stomach so full he felt ready for a twelve-hour nap, grew more and more restless about the mess.
Usually fastidious, none of the foxes paid the least attention to the remaining bloody carcass. Instead, their focus remained glued to the vixen: offering her choice bits, moving closer to her at the fire. One asked how she remembered to dance like a dream. Another about the camp, hadn’t it triggered any memories? Another suggested she would be more comfortable on the other side of the stray’s den once they returned to the settlement.
All well and good. It was not as if Ondrog were jealous of the attentions of a vixen. Not as if he minded her delight by every word they said, or how he had brought the deer in but they had the privilege of hand-feeding her while she licked their fingers. None of that was important. What mattered was the smells of the cooking meat from their fire and the reek of the bloody remains here on the bank. He’d have thought at least Demik would notice. That fox seemed paranoid about nearly everything. All at once, he couldn’t be bothered to see clearly?
He had his nose right on Summit’s ear, murmuring to her, having digressed into kisses. She laughed at his tickling lips and leaned into him. Mej fed her while Komu, Mej’s pet, sliced more strips for them.
When Demik finally did return to the bloody mess, Ondrog wagged his tail to see some positive action.
Instead of sending the rest down the river and cleaning up, Demik only carved off what little in the way of more meat he could find. He washed his hands and blade neatly in the river, then returned to the fire.
Ondrog stared. It crossed his mind to take his leave. Had he been in company of only a bunch of asinine dog-foxes, he would have. But he wasn’t.
He heaved himself to his paws, took a long drink, and waded in the river, dunking and swiping at his muzzle until his nose was numb and his fur clean.
On the bank, he shook himself, then rolled in the dry, hot brush. He came to rest, drowsing, nearly drifting off from the impact of his own meal, with eyes and ears and nose again tuned to Summit. Chin on his wet paws, he watched her with blinking eyes, but ears and nose ever alert.
While Mej was nibbling her throat, Demik now fed her. Ondrog admired how the little creature could eat. She’d clearly been starving before her tumble into the river on that fateful day. Now, even since he had met her after her arrival at the settlement, her cheeks were not so hollow, and the color in her face had a new glow and depth.
All the foxes were lean and wiry. They cached huge quantities of food all summer and autumn, but they ate sparingly. Aside from tonight. When they ate and ate and ignored the aromatic commotion they made.
They again cleaned out what they were cooking from the fire. This time, Demik did not return for more. He was occupied—lying full-length with Summit, part on top of and part beside her, biting her ear and feeling down her body. Mej monopolized her mouth and the other side of her. His bare feet and trousers were very near to catching fire and he pulled them over hers, drawing her closer. Komu kissed her face upside down, took her head in both hands, and found her lips with his when she turned up to him from Mej. Nose at her chin, he held the kiss, his tongue tracing her lips, until Mej shoved him aside and Summit kissed him instead.
Moon, these foxes were a peculiar bunch. Didn’t it bother them? He’d have wanted to get his teeth in another male’s scruff and shake him like a hare for butting into his space with a female like that. The dog-foxes did not actually seem pleased by one another, trying to edge the others out—but they didn’t punch each other either.
And Summit, clearly, was perfectly tickled by the whole thing. He could understand some of her Vulpen speech; telling them she loved them, thanking them for being on this quest with her—again as if Ondrog had done nothing.
It didn’t matter. Still a vixen. A frightfully odd one at that. She followed Earth Mother. He followed Moon. She hunted alone or with her mate. He hunted with his pack. She danced and considered a carrot and a handful of wild blueberries a satisfying lunch. He sang and needed red meat.
Anyway, she didn’t need him. A single sniff made that plain.
The merry little creature needed all the looking after she could get out here. He was glad she had invited him along. He was more gratified than he could ever admit to them to have felt almost like part of a pack again for these last few days. But it would soon be over. They’d learned nothing conclusive, nor did the vixen seem to mind that she was missing most of who she was. She was making a new self. She would return to the settlement happy, dig a den with one—or more?—of her new mates, then curl up. He would return to his own den and his own preparations for winter. All year was about being ready for winter. Unless it was winter. Than it was simply about survival.
Demik had his hand under her skirt, rolling more on top of her, shoving Mej away, while Summit wrapped her arms around him, her mouth open—her legs as well.
Ondrog looked away, yawned, shut his eyes with his chin off to the side of his paws, then heard the bears.
An instant later, he smelled them.
He stood slowly and froze, waiting.
A female brown bear, two cubs following close behind, emerged along the bank upriver. She paused, her nose in the air, scenting the carcass, the fire, and the foxes.
Demik was opening his belt. Mej was talking to the vixen, voice soft.
Ondrog tried to catch Komu’s eye.
The bear certainly caught the sounds and movement. She gazed nearsightedly that way, then snuffled for the carcass.
Komu, the only one sitting up, got the motion from the corner of his eye and looked around. He blinked. He looked at Ondrog, who stared back. He poked Mej on the shoulder. Then again, very sharply, before the latter pried himself from endearments in Summit’s ear to look up. Mej stared, then tapped Demik’s shoulder.
Demik growled. Mej grabbed the top of his head and turned it to face the bears.
All four foxes froze.
Ondrog had mixed feelings. To one side, intense gratification to know three erections were falling like shot ducks. On the other, he didn’t want Summit anywhere near a mother bear with cubs and he had no hands or thumbs to defend her with a firearm, only his teeth.
Ondrog cut a look to the foxes. Demik was whispering to them, Mej easing back, reaching for a rifle.
Slowly, carefully, they all moved to their knees.
The next bear was a male. He’d followed the female following the meat. A grizzly. Not only the foxes, but the entire company, particularly the female brown bear, were especially displeased to see him.
Oblivious to his chilly reception, the old bear strode in among them, focused on the female with the remains of the carcass. The cubs scuttled away. The mother rumbled, puffing herself up.
The male came right into her face before he even seemed to notice she might pose a threat. Then she clobbered him across the nose with her massive claws and he hopped back, snorting, flinging up his head and shouting at her.
The foxes got dressed in silence, kicked out the fire with earth, sprinkled water from a canteen over it, sending out tails of steam, grabbed up sacks and rifles, and slunk away like shadows.
Ondrog followed just as the mother bear bolted with most of the skeleton and the grizzly pounded after—bellowing, apparently shocked to find opposition.
The fact that the foxes and wolf ran straight into the cubs might still have been disastrous. The cubs let out their bleating, nasal alarm cries and bolted off in different directions. The mother came flying for them. Demik let off a shot from his rifle and both adult bears stopped and reared back to see over the brush.
The foxes ran into the spruce forest, Demik covering to make sure they weren’t followed, and even Ondrog found he had the strength to move his awfully full self at a good clip.
The only one not appropriately afraid of the whole situation was the vixen, who fairly skipped among spruces as if coming from a perfect night’s picnic. She was, of course, irrational—the blow to her head having made her lose all common sense along with memory. This knowing did nothing to explain her magnetism when it should have been a repellant.
The company climbed a hill above the river while midnight Sun brushed the horizon, putting a safe distance between themselves and bears. Finally in shelter and high ground, the meal and fatigue catching up, they stripped and put on their fur for comfortable sleep. Stomachs bulging, exhausted, they curled into a pile of orange and mahogany and black fur. No gallivanting or screaming tonight. Ondrog could have his own prayer-song to Moon later in peace.
Before the Sun set, however, the black fox extracted herself from the tangle and joined Ondrog in his own curl, tail over nose to protect from mosquitoes.
With fuzzy forepaws, she tunneled into his ruff, making a hollow behind his cheek and in front of his shoulder.
When Ondrog lifted his head, which was the size of her whole body in a curl, she found extra room and crammed herself in against his chest and folded forelegs.
She yawned in his face, smiled at him with her ears down and her tiny pink tongue showing, and licked his muzzle before curling up in her wolf nest. How could she not be roasting like that? The dog-foxes slept on top of their brushes in the summer, not below them.
Ondrog hesitated, trying to look at her, feeling soothed and protective and somehow needing her. Feeling almost a little bit of joy to have her against him, though he had not known joy in three winters.
No, he could not be feeling such things. Not over a little black scrap of a fox.
He rested his head around her. She sighed and nestled her sharp nose down tighter, breathing through his fur.
In a moment, the three other foxes were settling themselves in neat, rusty balls against him, as near to Summit as they could get. Then they slept while Ondrog, despite his feast and fatigue, lay awake, thinking of packs and mates, and even joy.
Chapter 8
Day 7
Wait, listen, I opened my mouth. Still, I could smell nothing but the forest of fir, pine, and black spruce. I kept forgetting I would not be able to smell any better no matter what I did in skin. Yet … skin had rewards.
Komu stepped into the shadow of a fir and paused. His huge, black and white ears pricked on his tiny face. He sniffed, hesitated, then turned so his fine little nose faced into the wind.
His ears pivoted. He looked to the right, where Ondrog and Demik were walking along in near silence. Gradually, he shifted his back to me, turning a circle, his very long, thin brush curving smoothly after him.
I jumped out from behind the tree that concealed me, reaching at the same time.
Komu’s ears flashed back. Even as he was starting to spin, I had already grabbed his brush in a quick squeeze.
Not having time to see or smell seized had him, only hearing my landing and feeling the hold of the unknown, Komu screamed and shot away like a hare. The red rocket tore through the forest and out of sight in the time it takes for two blinks.
Elated, laughing with my own triumph since I’d promised I could sneak up on him—and Komu had not believed—I straightened up. It had taken all morning but I’d done it. I knew Komu would forgive me. After our impending nap, once we traveled by night, I could be in fur and see if Komu could get the best of me. I hoped he could. I hoped he could feel this thrill of how much fun it could be.
Komu hadn’t wanted to be in fur at all, insisting it was Mej’s turn. Komu didn’t seem to do much of what he wanted, though. More a lot of what Mej wanted.
Still giggling, I stepped back. Something grabbed me. I screamed.
I jumped, spun and kicked out, my moccasined foot cracking into something hard and sharp and making me yell again.
Mej shouted an oath and staggered backward, clutching his leg. I hopped, grabbing my broken foot, and fell into the fir tree.
“Summit!” Demik ran to me, scared, rifle in his hands.
“Hells and mosquitoes … oh … Earth Mother…” Mej sank to a sitting position on the forest floor.
“Mej?” I gasped. “I’m sorry…” I blinked against my watering eyes, deciding my foot was not actually broken.
“Summit?” Demik’s black eyes flashed from me against the branches to Mej on the ground. “What did you do?”
“Do?” Mej shouted back. “I didn’t do a thing!”
I released my foot to grab Demik’s arm. He still had the rifle in hand as he faced Mej.
“No, Demik—” I tugged him to me. “It was an accident.”
“Broke my damn knee—gods,” Mej gasped. “Right in the kneecap…”
“Why would Summit do that?” Demik snapped, apparently certain I’d been defending my life from Mej.
“I didn’t mean to, Mej.” I left Demik for him, bending to hug his head, knocking off his wide-brimmed hat and kissing his sweaty brow. “You startled me. Sorry.”
“That was the general idea,” Mej panted. “Sneaking up on foxes? Only I didn’t notice Komu rip your hand off when you did him.”
“Sorry.” Another kiss, inhaling the tobacco smoke and leather and personal foxiness of him. “I won’t do it again. Next time I’ll know—”
“You think there’s going to be a next time?” He snorted at that, shaking his head.
“Should you change?” I asked. “Is it very bad? Is it broken?”
“No, no…” He flapped a hand, then let out a slow breath as he gingerly extended his leg. “Only need a minute… It’s … damn… Maybe I will change…”
I sat down with him. “We’ll have our nap for the afternoon. What about that? Then you might not need to. I’m going to change while we walk tonight.”
Mej nodded, carefully prodding and moving his knee.
Demik still glared at us. Behind and off to Demik’s left, Ondrog also stood watching. His face, as always, remained impassive. Carved from stone, solid and strong, with his headband on and that beautiful hair falling down his shoulders. He was ever so nice—feeding us and looking after us and letting us be his pack—but he didn’t seem to want anyone to notice it.
“Nothing here for you to laugh at,” Mej snapped.
I stared at him, then looked around.
Komu had returned, peering at us from behind the trees. It was true: Mej’s suffering seemed to amuse him. Komu’s mouth was open, his tongue showing and his black whiskers bristl
ing over his white jaw while he made little panting huffs at Mej.
“I saw you running like there were shotguns aimed for your ass.” Mej threw a stick at him and Komu bounced lightly away, swinging his brush.
We wiled away the afternoon nested in the forest, sleeping, covering faces and hands against mosquitoes. Mej rolling a dozen fresh cigarettes while smoking the whole time helped a bit against the pests.
Demik talked to Ondrog about the logging camp. I didn’t mind. Ondrog had already told us he had nothing—could not even pick up my trail, much less family. So it was all right: we could go home. No one out here we needed to find. All the same, Demik seemed to think this was deeply interesting—also that it should interest me.
I put on fur and sprawled in Demik’s lap. He had a strong, thoughtful voice. I loved his voice as much as Ondrog’s hair. I was glad to listen to him asking Ondrog for theories, wondering at my memories, then arguing with Mej about where I’d come from. Demik seemed to think if my trail had simply appeared, not leading in from anywhere, it might prove I had also appeared. I liked the idea. It meant I didn’t have to work to remember anymore. Still … there had been those foxes saying my name. And my mate… So how could I have been born, truly born, of the river? Even if that was how it often felt, I also knew there was more.
Mej was upset by Demik’s ideas, sneering, snapping, until Demik’s heart rate quickened and he hunched closer around me to keep me safe.
“It is not for us to know the reason for every snowflake or the way Earth Mother creates every mountain,” Demik said stiffly, cutting Mej off. “I’m only saying, if there’s no reasonable explanation, that leaves certain other sides to consider.”
“There’s always a reasonable explanation,” Mej said. “Because we’re ignorant you want to say a goddess materialized her for us? Listen to yourself. If I didn’t know you so well I’d think you were jesting.”
“Moon offers blessings each day,” Ondrog said. “Your Earth Mother touches your hunts and guides your instincts. Allow yourselves to consider that you are both correct. For everything a reason. For every blessing, Moon’s light leading the way. A thing can be both perfectly logical and yet a perfect gift at one time.”
Fox's Quest: A Foxy Reverse Harem Shifter Romance (Foxes of the Midnight Sun Book 2) Page 4
