“I, too, know such recollections. I realize what mine harken back to. I know my own past. Yet … flashes, the broken shards of the looking glass, come on at unexpected times. It is the horrors which sneak upon us while we travel a quiet trail, is it not? The good times we remember clearly by seeking them out. The kindly moments, the sweetest breaths and softest touches, the best meals and proudest songs, the finest hunts and noblest deeds, do not snap to our senses with a kick in the gut like the claw of the mountain lion. It is our hardships, our suffering, which bite when we turn our backs, which snarl and vanish as smoke in a breeze. Is it any wonder if visions of past suffering return to you when you can remember little else? They are but a claw’s blow—no narrative force of one’s disremembered self.”
He held me out again, only a little, so he could look into my eyes. “Do not despair and take one bite of fear, or one jolt of pain, as your past. Your own lightness of spirit speaks to a life of longer summers than winters.”
It was such a strange, long way to tell someone not to worry, that everything was probably all right. Also such a fascination to me that Ondrog somehow understood more than I did about what I was feeling. I simply stared at him.
Did he read my mind? Did the eyes of another tell a wolf what dwelt within? Or did Ondrog guess at my needs and experiences because of his own? Because he knew me? Then was my love for him nothing but selfish? Had I felt so devastated, so aware and knowing of Ondrog’s situation—his aloneness—because I saw myself in his place?
I stretched my neck to touch his chin with the point of my damp nose. I’m sorry, Ondrog. I won’t bring you berries again. You’re not an extension of my own pain needing healing. You have to show me what is best for you by your actions, while I can truly show my love only by honoring that. But, you see, I didn’t know I felt the same pain you do. I didn’t know I was seeing myself in you all along. I just found out. Thank you.
I curled up in his lap while Ondrog stroked my fur, saying no more.
Chapter 11
Night 8
We made delightful time returning—having roamed and meandered on our way out—reaching the Aaqann Clan’s settlement where our river joined the mighty Yukon River not long past suppertime.
All five of us in skin, we nevertheless smelled the constant smoking and drying of salmon half a mile away. Mouth watering, holding Ondrog’s hand, though I’d been talking with Mej and Komu about foods in Dawson City—many I could put no smell or taste to, such as apples and something called cheese—I longed to invite Ondrog to have supper with us in the settlement.
Instead, as we neared his den, still a slight distance from the fox families, I only pressed his hand and looked up at him.
Ondrog glanced at me and away. “I regret we were unable to locate your clan.”
“That’s all right. Earth Mother guides us. And Moon.” I smiled. “We went together. That will always make any journey worthwhile.”
Once more he looked at me—and once more away. “I admire your faith.” He did not sound in the least admiring, just dry and dull as his tone almost always was.
He’d sung on the trail only a few times, and only in fur. His songs were sad, but not one-noted. I wished I could hear him sing in skin. I wished he could sing while I danced. I wished he would have supper with us.
Ondrog’s den came into view.
“Thank you,” I said, weaving out of the birches with him toward the tepee, “for running with us, hunting with us, keeping us warm…”
He stopped, pulling his hand from mine, and faced me. The three dog-foxes walked on for the trail to the settlement, but paused there to wait for me.
“I was about to extend my gratitude to you,” Ondrog said, frowning again. “If I can be of further assistance… If you remember… If you know where you can hunt to find your clan…”
“You will join us?” I put in when his halting silence stretched out between us.
Ondrog nodded curtly. “I might be of some service to…” Again, he stopped. He reached to touch my shoulder, or tumbled strands of my hair from a new braid woven by Mej, then seemed to catch himself. He swallowed and took a step back.
“You might visit our den, the strays’ den, sometime.” I felt a new bubble of hope and happiness for the thought, but did not pounce. I only smiled. “If you have tasks to complete which you may do in company? If you would like to talk? Skin or fur.” Still gazing up into his eyes I followed just enough to take his hand again. “I’ll miss you, Ondrog.”
He glanced at my hand. The pulse in his thumb beat quickly. “You, if you wish, only if … it suits…” He hesitated, met my eyes. “If you cared to visit…”
“We could come here too? You wouldn’t mind if I sniffed to your mats?” Light with the pride, knowing that for whatever reason, no matter how desperate he might be for company, this was also painful for him—and he made the suggestion anyway.
“You are … welcome. Anytime you should wish to call.” His gaze flicked to the others waiting a little apart from us and back to me. He was all right with them as well, or only meant to acknowledge that he understood they may be a part of my presence.
I stepped up, hugged his neck, inhaling him. “Thank you, Ondrog,” I murmured as he allowed me to pull him down close.
He touched me in a light returned embrace, his hands on my shoulder and back, careful, as if he could not trust himself to do such a thing, feared I might object or feared he must not.
I pulled back my face to smile at him again—and he kissed me. I don’t think he’d meant to. I had not expected him to. Only a touch and retreat. Instead, his lips were hot and dry and startling on mine. Leaning in, newly delighted with the sensation tingling from my lips through my blood like fresh sunlight, buzzing to fingers and toes, seeming to travel to the tip of my brush, though I had none.
I was just standing on my toes, shutting my eyes, prepared to hold on another minute after all, when Ondrog tugged back as quickly as he’d leaned in.
He shook his head with a scowl, apparently confused, perhaps angry. As if I’d kissed him and he was thoroughly put out by it.
“I…” He mumbled something in his own language. “Min polaan—my regrets.” He held my forearms, pushing them back to me as if hoping to avoid catching some sickness from me. “It is not suitable. Moon teaches that wolf runs with wolf. You should be with your own kind. I should be with mine.”
“Of course we should.” I would not let him completely pull away, but caught one of his hands in both of mine. “Have you wolves to run with? Have I a silver fox clan to welcome me? Ondrog…”
His breaths were short as he pulled back, eyes downcast.
“We’ll be your pack as long as—”
“You say that.” Tone suddenly cutting, louder. He yanked his hand away as he looked up. “You are no one’s pack. You are foxes. You maintain scarcely enough social ties to work in a clan at all. Do not patronize by expecting me to pretend I sniff this make-believe which you invite me to accept as reality.” He turned away for his den, jerking the rifle strap off his shoulder to swing in his hand.
“Ondrog—I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that.” How quickly the joy could come, how quickly torn away. Heartsick, I would have followed had I not now known better. “Please don’t be angry. You’ve done nothing wrong.” But my voice got quieter, melting against his back as he untied the flap. “Ondrog? I love you…”
He crouched into the den and vanished.
I looked around, struggling against the pressure in my chest. Demik, glaring after Ondrog, seemed hazy so I had to blink my stinging eyes. Mej and Komu, however, had started farther down the trail and Komu returned.
“Demik? We need to go on.” Komu’s voice was quick, agitated. “Do you hear that? Sounds like humans in the settlement.”
Chapter 12
The settlement looked just the same, sunny and spread with dens, fires, several dogs, and many foxes—all in skin and all grown, with the few kits apparently indoors. It smelled t
he same to my nothing of a nose—with fish pervading. It did not sound the same.
Qualin, Skeen, and Vicos were there. Also others I had met in my few days here before. It was a small clan. Though it had seemed a world of foxes and commotion before, there were a mere handful of underage—pre-changing—kits in the whole place, a scattering of stray males and females, some mated pairs or triads, then several elders like Qualin—Demik and Skeen’s father—and that was all.
There were nearly as many dogs as there were foxes about. They had seemed so bright, so many, so prosperous only several days ago. Returning now, seeing through eyes that somehow understood more around me, I could take in that Demik had been correct: they did need another clan.
Agitated from the word “humans” Demik’s breaths shortened and he gripped the stock of the rifle that was hanging heavily from his shoulder with the canvas strap.
Mej and Komu, despite their almost daily games with men, were also tense, their steps slowing and their breaths speeding up.
Were humans not allowed? Would they be here for mischief? Why?
Out in the middle and west side of the settlement, near the hugely wide Yukon River and around the smoking fires, three men in wool trousers and cotton shirts with vests and jackets, mostly all black, with some blues and dingy whites, talked with Qualin and others.
They were not angry. No shouting, gesturing, leaning in. Two smiled while one looked serious behind a hugely bushy mustache which perhaps dragged down his lips so he had trouble with a smile. They had no rifles. Only one of the smiling talkers even wore a gun belt with a handgun. For the most part, they did not even seem agitated. One of the smilers shifted about, opening his hands, appeasing. The one with the belt seemed only open and confident—yet there remained something in the smile, the nods, even the hair oil and smart clothing, that made me feel he was lying.
As voices began to reach us I heard in shapes and patterns of the words that they were speaking English, including Qualin and foxes with him. Again, it seemed to me I should know what the words meant, that English was more than a set of sounds to my ears. Yet I could not follow anything they said, distracted by watching movements and pale faces of the three men.
Apprehension was so strong in me, not because of their being here, but because of the feelings beating on me from my companions, that I obeyed without hesitation when Demik told me to stay back. Mej told Komu to take me to the den. He and Demik walked on.
Komu gently took my elbow and we stopped by the side of the log den belonging to Vicos and Skeen. Mej and Demik went on. The others glanced around to their approach.
“What’s wrong?” Demik asked his father in Vulpen.
“They’re here about the mill,” Qualin said quietly, then returned his attention to the men.
Demik’s and Mej’s muscles tightened even more. Komu’s hand hardened against my arm as he sucked in a quick breath.
That was a lumber mill, I suspected. It made me think of the camp, but, no, that had been only the loggers, out in the old forests, far upriver, sending timber down to be collected by the men who milled the raw trunks into lumber at the mill by Dawson City.
How could these men know we had been at the logging camp? And why would it bring them out here talking about their mill? Did they see us as having trespassed on their territory? The loggers had given Demik, Mej, and Komu no trouble. Why would these mill men?
The pale humans’ attentions turned to us as Mej and Demik walked up, pausing in what they said. Only one in the three continued smiling. They took in Demik’s rifle, eyes lingering there while they ignored his face, nodded to Mej, one offering a greeting, all apparently knowing him, then they swept on past to spot us hanging back. Three sets of eyes fixed on me.
Meeting their eyes, which were not deep brown to black like foxes’ eyes in skin, but a range of shades from soft, greenish brown to sky blue, I felt a chill down my spine. They stared at me for far longer than needed since Mej was addressing them in English and he and Demik were right before them, while I was thirty paces away.
Komu tugged. I stepped away with him, wondering what it was about humans that Demik was correct about. The whites had wonderful things: pianos and strawberry bonbons and three stories with glass windows that opened. But they’d put out the trap that lynx had been in. There had been something frightful about that logging camp. Now … the men from the mill…
I winced, allowing Komu to lead me away.
Then Demik cut in while the men were answering Mej. Unlike theirs, Demik’s voice was fast and angry, raised and challenging. He also spoke English, though he’d told me he did not do so very well. Mej snapped at him, telling him to stop, or calm down.
I pulled Komu to a halt, looking around.
There, coming in after us, was Ondrog as well.
He’d heard Komu’s warning that there were humans and followed, his own rifle back on his shoulder, his expression grave, lips pressed together in a sharp line.
As we turned to him, Ondrog jerked his chin at Komu. “Take her back to my den.” His eyes took in every inch of the men, not glancing at us. The voices, the anger from Demik, the gun belt. He walked past us to join them. Komu, pulling my hand, retraced our steps.
I kept looking around as long as I could, before the birches and the dens hid them from sight. Demik shouted, throwing out his hand—Go. The men affronted, ignoring him, but speaking to Mej, who spoke fast and level. All the men’s eyes shifted to Ondrog as they had to me. At him, they widened. Ondrog did nothing, said nothing, only walked up to where Komu and I had been and stared at them like a grizzly bear on his hind legs. They moved back from Demik’s shouting. Tension bubbled around the settlement like the roar of a waterfall.
Komu hurried back to the tepee with me tugged along.
He released my hand at Ondrog’s empty fire to push his fingers through his hair, puffing out a long breath.
“Earth Mother,” he murmured. “I’d thought they’d moved on. Wait—” He sprang after me and grabbed my arm again. “What are you doing? Just wait here a minute. They’ll be on their way and Ondrog will come back.”
“They’re upset. Someone could get hurt.”
“Right… Which is why you’re here. Not there.” Komu frowned, still holding on tight to my arm. “Just wait. Not as if we haven’t had disagreements with men plenty of times before. They’ll be fine…” Moving in to touch my shoulder so I leaned back into him instead. Komu slid his arms around me and kissed my hair. Like Demik might do—only Komu didn’t feel the same. Demik felt safe. Komu felt uncertain. He made me more nervous. I pulled away.
“Don’t, please—” Hanging onto me. “Summit, wait five minutes and they’ll be gone.”
I stood still, listening, and again Komu wrapped an arm around me. One hand on my side, another hand in mine, he pressed in close but gentle, soft but all bones and angles. He was well-muscled, like the other dog-foxes, but hardly a grown fox at all, needing more winters to fill out his chest and introduce even a hint of lines to his sharp, beautiful face.
He kissed my ear, surprising me, and I finally turned into him to hug him—at once feeling better with his long arms around me and his own breaths steady. He was concerned, tense, but he wasn’t really scared. He believed what he’d told me.
“Come on…” He tried to lead me over to the den to sit down, but there were no mats out now and nothing in the fire. I could not sit anyway.
Komu wrinkled his nose, but I smiled. It was a wolf smell—sweet and musky at the same time, but mostly woodsy. Not the pungent, snappy odor of fox.
We stood and waited, holding hands, me leaning my head to his shoulder.
Angry voices, what seemed to be yells, exclamations, reached us only as distant sounds.
“I should know English,” I said quietly after a minute.
“We’re going to teach you.” Komu rubbed the back of my hand with his thumb while he held it.
“I mean … I think I already know English. Or little bits, at lea
st. I know the sounds. Sometimes I think I know the words. But I can’t exactly remember…”
“Same thing, right? It will all start to come back. You’ll be the quickest pupil ever.” Smiling, the sound of the smile filling his voice, his touch, his hand in mine.
“Thank you, Komu.” I hugged him again, taking a deep breath, feeling more security in him.
Komu tried to kiss me but I couldn’t think about that, had to turn away and keep watching for the others, so we only stood for several more minutes—until long after raised voices had gone.
No shots had been fired.
Ondrog appeared from the path with hardly a sound to mark his steps. Even with his size, he moved almost with the grace of a fox. My whole being warmed to see him.
Ondrog did not return my smile. His back remained tense and his expression grave.
“What did they say?” Komu asked quickly. “I thought they’d dropped it. Now they still want the site?”
Ondrog did not seem to hear him. “Summit … I’m sorry. I … had no right to be cross with you…”
I released Komu to hurry forward and hug him. Ondrog stopped, apparently so surprised he did not move for a second, then gently returned the hold. He kissed the top of my head.
“I wasn’t angry at you,” he whispered.
I didn’t understand what he meant. He had, after all, not been addressing anyone else when we’d said goodbye. It didn’t matter, though. I tucked my face into his chest, inhaling, loving the feel and smell of him, the way he held on tight, but for him probably nothing—handicapping his own strength to be gentle for me.
After a moment he would have let me go. I held on. He felt so solid and comfortable he nearly made me forget the tension of the men. Anyway, he was here with me, had come back, so everything must be all right for Demik and Mej and the others. Besides, I felt so tired it seemed I could drift off. I’d had scant sleep as we’d bounded to get home.
Fox's Quest: A Foxy Reverse Harem Shifter Romance (Foxes of the Midnight Sun Book 2) Page 6
