Fox's Quest: A Foxy Reverse Harem Shifter Romance (Foxes of the Midnight Sun Book 2)

by K. R. Alexander

  He had made little progress, only tumbling downstream with no idea what had become of Summit, when something grabbed him.

  Huge jaws lined with rows of great teeth clamped over his bicep. Komu was jerked to a painful stop, shoulder wrenched, water surging down his nose and throat. He was dragged along by teeth that surely pierced his skin with the force of the hold and his own weight fighting it. His yells of pain mixed with his own coughing and retching. All merged with the roar of the river in his clogged ears.

  At last, he discovered less water, more rock. Komu pushed off, scrambled, and found himself on his hands and knees. The jaws released him as he grabbed through mud and rock into the steep, reedy bank. Vomiting water, struggling to look around for Summit, fear for her muting everything else, he saw through a blur that it was the huge gray wolf who had dragged him out. Ondrog shook himself, spraying Komu, and scrambled up the bank above him.

  “Summit!” Komu’s voice still came out no better than a squeak, turning, frantic, choking and gagging. “Summit?”

  “Komu!” That light, beautiful voice bubbled around him.

  Komu spun as Summit bounded down the bank past Ondrog. She dropped to her knees and hugged his head to her chest while he was still coughing, so bewildered he was sputtering even worse.

  “You were almost swept away.” If she wasn’t also soaked, he wouldn’t have believed she’d been in the river at all: breathless but otherwise completely normal.

  “What—? You—how? Summit—” He coughed and coughed, spitting up more water. He dragged himself up to face her on his knees. “Summit—” he repeated and embraced her. “You’re all right. What happened?”

  “Ondrog pulled me out.” Summit returned his hold, kissing below his ear. “He was right there. I was scared when you weren’t with me, Komu. I love you.”

  Komu coughed and gasped. “You do?” Pulling back to look in her eyes.

  “Of course I do.” She took his face in her hands. “You’re my family now. All of you.”

  Komu wished she hadn’t added that last. Still…

  “I love you too.” He hugged her again. “I couldn’t find you in the water. I didn’t know what happened. I’m so sorry I knocked you in. I knew that rail wasn’t strong.”

  “It was an accident.” She kissed his numb lips, a hand going to his hair, plastered down with water. She fluffed it up. “We’re all right. And Ondrog was here.”

  “Right…” Komu pulled away, coughed, looked up to the dripping gray wolf on the high bank.

  The wolf glared back, his golden eyes narrowed.

  Komu looked quickly away, still coughing. Yes, here he was. So Ondrog had just happened to be wandering past when they fell in the river? Not likely. Which left him having been there all along, out on one if his regular hunting or territorial patrols in fur—though this was a strange time of day for it.

  Still close against Summit, with her between him and the wolf, Komu scrambled to do up his fly buttons with shivering fingers while his face suddenly felt flaming.

  “Uh—” Komu cleared his throat. “You need … home. Fire, dry clothes.”

  “Your arm is bleeding.” Summit touched it tentatively with her fingertips.

  “It’s nothing. It’ll heal when I change. You’re cold.”

  Ondrog gave him one more stern look, waited until Komu had pushed Summit toward him and she caught the wolf’s eye, then turned loftily away from them. He took only a step and waited, watching Summit over his shoulder while she scrambled to him with Komu’s help from below. She didn’t need help. Shivering but apparently unhurt and tickled by her adventure, she was nimble as a spider and seemed almost to drift to the wolf.

  She hugged his neck through his dripping fur which diminished his nevertheless massive appearance. Her own tunic and skirt clung to her skin. Her hip-length hair was scattered in a dozen clusters. Below this, the outlines of her body showed clear and smooth as a doe. Her limbs very much like that of a doe, while her big, brown eyes also matched—except for the expression of merriment in them.

  How could she not be upset by what happened? Komu stared as he climbed after her and she briefly hung onto Ondrog’s big neck, kissing his muzzle, thanking him while she smiled.

  They could have died. The way Komu had fallen on top of her, and if her head hit a rock, or back or neck? It wouldn’t have taken much.

  Did she not realize? Komu was grateful she was all right—and the rest of it shouldn’t matter. Still, he also wished the wolf hadn’t been spying on him, and hadn’t been the one to save her.

  With an unnaturally stiff and deliberate gait, his tail to Komu while walking at Summit’s side, Ondrog took them back to the clan.

  Komu trailed, trying to get his breath back. Summit didn’t even limp—apparently amused by her own dripping hair.

  Dogs barked, then kept clear of the wolf. A couple of kits ran over, asking what happened—that they’d heard someone yelp, and why were they all wet? Komu longed to go to earth and stay in until tomorrow.

  But things didn’t get really bad until he got Summit over by a fire, assuring her he would fetch her change of clothes—for her to stay there and warm herself—and Demik also showed up to see what was amiss.

  Ondrog had already melted back into the forest. Mej was through with his meeting and he rushed over as well. Just as if Mej were the sort to worry and bother about a little thing like slipping into the river. Which wasn’t really a little thing out here. Could be life or death. Still, Mej had no call to overreact. And since when had Mej and Demik ever been on the same side about anything?

  They didn’t wait for an explanation, didn’t ask for one. Just rushed in, checking over Summit, quick to turn on Komu.

  “Fell in the damn river?” Mej snapped.

  “Stay away from her if you’re going to do idiotic things like that.” Demik was almost shouting at him, shocking Komu.

  “She could have been seriously hurt,” Mej snarled. “You halfwit. Let someone else fish if you can’t handle the river.”

  “Why would you go in the first place when we have lunch right here?” Demik demanded.

  “Show off your swimming prowess? Think that’s what fishing’s all about?”

  “Do whatever you want on your own time. Leave her alone.”

  “Stick to town, kit. You’ve gone senseless as a human.”

  It seemed to go on for years, the two dog-foxes ganging up on him as Komu had never seen them work together before—as if driving a rival from their den. While Komu, blood pounding in his ears with the shame and horror of Summit—who kept trying to cut in—witnessing this, only tried to get away.

  He attempted to stop it, backing down with things like, “I’ll bring her lunch. It was just an accident.”

  The two never heard, pummeling right over him. So he only inched away.

  “I’m sorry. Sorry, Summit. I didn’t—” But that was nothing either as they moved with him, between him and the vixen, snapping all the time. He had just decided he had to literally run from them and hide in fur, never mind fires and dry clothes, just go, when Summit grew tired of being ignored.

  She grabbed Demik’s arm, and the pair finally looked at her as she cut in.

  “Why are you doing this?” Summit’s smile was completely gone this time. “Komu didn’t hurt me. It could have happened to anyone. We leaned on the handrail and it split. If it’s so weak, it’s no use for a rail, is it? That’s not Komu’s fault. He did all he could trying to get me out, then Ondrog was there and we were fine. I wasn’t hurt. Komu’s the one with blood on his arm and you don’t even ask about that.”

  The two dog-foxes glanced at Komu’s arm for the first time while he stared at Summit, then away. He’d never heard her sound like that. Not exactly angry, but frustrated, disbelieving. Mostly, she sounded on his side.

  A lump hardened in his throat and he wasn’t sure why, couldn’t look at her as she went on.

  “Komu is part of us. You’re not shouting at me about falli
ng in, or losing the net, or being careless. Why not? I was there too. I also fell in. And you ignore me.”

  “No, Summit…” Demik’s voice had gone to a croon. Bending his knees to make himself smaller, pushing back her wet hair on both sides of her face. “Never ignoring you. We just want to look after you—”

  “Komu looked after me,” Summit spoke firmly, making Demik pause and Komu gulp.

  “By dropping you in the river?” Mej crossed his arms. “And letting a wolf scoop you out?”

  The look Summit turned on him was heartbreaking. Komu longed to go to her, to wrap his arms around her, as those beautiful, starry eyes filled with tears. She said only, “Why are you trying to hurt us?”

  “I…” For the first time, Mej shifted, at last dropping his gaze, he also uncrossed his arms. “It’s not… I know he didn’t really… I was just…”

  “It was an accident,” she said quietly. “We told you. We’re fine.”

  “I’m sorry.” Demik kissed her hand. “We didn’t mean—”

  “No!” Summit yanked away and all three of the others jumped. “Not to me.”

  Demik and Mej glanced unwillingly at Komu, who’s face again flamed. As much as when Ondrog had stared at him, Komu longed to vanish.

  “I’ll just…” he stammered, “change and … with … arm…” Looking down to the blood, the limb now throbbing. Not as if either of the two older dog-foxes were actually going to apologize to him, of all people, but Komu couldn’t run that risk. He was sure Demik, at least, would do anything for her. Maybe even this.

  Before embarrassing and shameful could turn to the most mortifying experience of his life, Komu fled. Or tried. Nothing was so easy with Summit. She was calling him, actually running after him, and Komu turned, still moving.

  “Tonight?” She clasped her hands together, watching him, anxious.

  “What?”

  “You’ll still go to town tonight? Dance?”

  “You … you want to?” Breathless, it was one more shock he couldn’t believe. “Of course, yes, we’ll go later.”

  She smiled at him, but the best Komu could return was a breathless nod before he took off, head spinning, arm painful, so bewildered and embarrassed he couldn’t remember what he was running to do.

  Chapter 18

  Night 9

  Going to dance. Going to dance, dance, dance! I skipped and twirled as we walked.

  Mej said he and Komu had to be friendly with the men tonight; they still had ruffled feathers to smooth.

  “Can we go to the third story?” I asked, whirling so sun flashed through my eyes. Round and round, dancing down the trail.

  “I’ll rent us a room if one’s open,” Mej said. “We’ll stay all night if you like.”

  “Dance all night.” I caught Komu’s hand and he smiled at me: sweet, glowing, beautiful, but shy since the afternoon. He’d put on fur to heal after the river and gone to lurk in the birch forest until recently. Now I was glad we were back together.

  “You can’t dance all night there,” Mej told me. “You’re not one of their employees, and that would be working for free. You can dance on stage again for one number. That’s doing the place plenty of favors. You’ll have to dance at home if you want to all night.”

  “We don’t have a piano.”

  “We have drums and rattles and the river.” Mej threw out his hand to the Yukon, taking in the river’s roar.

  I caught his instead. “Will they have cheese? Apples?”

  “We’ll get you a supper fit for a queen,” Mej promised, squeezing my hand.

  Komu glanced at our hands and away.

  When he’d met up with me in skin for the walk, Komu had stammered a few words about no one ever having stood up for him like that. Then Mej was there and Komu had gone quiet.

  “What’s a queen?” I went back to skipping.

  “A female leader,” Mej said. “You’re our queen.”

  “What’s an apple?”

  “A sort of fruit.”

  “Why do the men want our riverbank?”

  “Because Dawson City is still growing, despite fires. They want a new sawmill. It’s a nice location but we already happen to be living on it. Anyway, they’ve been rebuilding the existing mill. We can talk them into a different place if they want more. But if some of us go around punching them they’re likely to start barging in and taking what they want just because they can.”

  “They can?”

  “Oh, yes. They can do whatever they want. They’re human. To get along we have to make peace and negotiate. And we will.” He smiled at me. “Don’t think about it. We’ll worry about mills and river rights. You just worry about dancing and apple pie.”

  “That’s very condescending.” When he didn’t answer I glanced around, still holding his hand and skipping while they only walked very quickly.

  Mej was staring, apparently startled. “Sorry,” he said at last. “I didn’t mean it like that. It’s only … there’s nothing you can do. So … don’t worry about it.”

  How had I surprised him? Did he not know he was patronizing? Or thought I wouldn’t know?

  “No one owns the river or the bank,” I said.

  “No. We know that. But humans don’t. The Canadian government thinks they own it and we’re squatters.” Mej shook his head. “It’s a handful of men wanting to do this, trying to get Dawson stirred up about it. There are only three months of good weather left. We’ll talk them down, they’ll talk each other down, and it’ll come to nothing. Maybe at the next breaking of the ice they’ll start their new mill if they still want one. Not now with the summer mining and new arrivals into town in full flow. Everyone’s too busy.”

  I nodded, but found my steps had grown steady rather than springy as I listened. “Mej? We can’t stay the night in Dawson City. Demik would worry.”

  “Demik worries far too much. But not about this. I told him we might stay. We’ll do whatever you like.”

  “Dance.”

  “We’ll dance.” Mej grinned. “And how about a dance at home one night? Really dance all night?”

  “That too.” I skipped again, beaming to think of it.

  Still, I wondered. Would men really take away the riverbank? How? Earth Mother was universal. One might call a certain place home, but it was a sharing from the Mother. It was not owned any more than one owned one’s mate or the air one breathed.

  “Is this why Demik hates the humans?” I asked as we drew near the great city. “They think they own Earth Mother?”

  “Demik gets carried away. Our families have long histories of trading and gathering with the human tribes who go back dozens of generations in this area, like ourselves. Time was, we kept shy even of them for the most part. Foxes are our own people. We’re not Hän or Gwich’in or Tanana.”

  Komu tried some skips also. I left Mej to catch his hand.

  “Do humans dance?” I asked.

  “Not like us,” Komu said, smiling now. “As graceful as pack ice.”

  “Will Demik be all right once they stop planning a mill at the river?” I glanced back to Mej.

  “Sure he will. And they will. They’ve poked around before. It would be a lot of trouble to build a mill up there.”

  “Candy before your dance?” Komu asked.

  “Bonbons!” I broke into a trot as we started downhill for Dawson City, newly visible before us.

  I wondered if the humans might be angry about Demik punching one of them, but everything seemed just as wonderful in Dawson City as before.

  We had candy and supper, apple pie and cheese and chicken on toast. Komu and Mej had to talk to the men all evening. I didn’t even try to understand the English, absorbed in new textures and flavors and rich scents of the food that made me giddy—they were all so thrilling.

  We ate while Mej and Komu talked with the men. Mej bought drink after drink for everyone nearby. We had so many friends it was hard to imagine any white man staying mad at any fox. Then Mej and Komu broke up
their conversations for card games. Here, again, they had plenty of friends.

  I tugged Komu’s arm, but we had to wait. There were pale women with short skirts—practically short as their knees—and feathers in their hair in the dancehall. Wait and wait.

  The men laughed and pounded tables, roared and crashed about and yawned. I never smelled such a stink as those men from the mines all pressed together indoors. They had their own personal body stink mixed with the fumes of their drinks and cigarettes and the metal, earth, rust, and gunpowder smells of their work in the mines. Then they also smelled of dogs and leather, lard and sourdough.

  I tried pulling Mej’s elbow. He’d insisted I must not go off alone. What use was that when neither of them would come along?

  Mej grinned around his cigarette, speaking English with the men. More and more men. Not all white. Nor all English. These humans came in many shades and tongues. French was most common after English, but I caught murmurs of Na-Dene languages. These were spoken by humans who looked much like foxes—warmer skin, black hair, often long, no beards, and high cheekbones, smelling of fish.

  Komu, who told me about the French, said they were from the Hän village. They had been forced to live south of Dawson City on meager hunting after this land had been taken from them. Once the marshy site of Dawson City formed part of the caribous’ migration path. Tribes had gathered for an annual harvest where the herd crossed the river. Now the site was desecrated, the caribou came no more, and the past years had seen these tribes often starving or stricken with diseases brought by the pale ones.

  I watched them, forgetting about dancing while I shared an edge of Komu’s chair, studying foxlike humans as they mingled together at a couple of tables and ordered drinks and avoided the whites.

  The piano started up again. There was that one woman singing alone. The same one. Same man on the piano.

  I sprang up.

  “Komu!” I shoved him and dashed for the stage, flitting around tables and big men with their miners’ stink.

  In a flash I was there at the stage, heart pounding, mouth watering with the excitement of the stage and piano striking a lively cord that was nearly drowned in the noise of the men.