A mate. I smiled back into his eyes. That was it. Those arms, the love and familiarity.
I reached to touch Demik’s face.
He moved on, walking fast, back to talking about the settlement.
Disappointed, I kept close him, almost jogging, not minding as I found my legs and enjoyed my moccasins. What did a certain amount of time we’d known each other have to do with anything?
I watched him while we ate berries and shared with kits who ran over. There were only six between the ages of newborn and pre-transition—when they would learn to change to fur—in the settlement. Demik explained they were fading, the clan almost gone.
“We’re the only foxes left in this region,” he said. “Or so we thought.” He gave me a sad smile. “That’s why you’re so interesting, so important, to us. I would love to find your people. For your sake and for ours.”
I wished I could hear and smell him properly, yet also wanted to be in a form that mirrored his. Demik was strong, body sinewy. His movements were deft with grace of the furred fox, which I envied as I regained walking by holding onto him. Even without pricked ears or whiskers or a real nose, he missed nothing. His black eyes found every detail, from beads moving on my moccasins to the way a fishing eagle’s wing caught sunlight. A leaf stirred and he looked. A dog barked and he stiffened.
I followed, watching him all evening with a joy that only grew.
Last night, after so much time together, Demik had taken me to Skeen’s den, where I was to curl up with Tem—who had gladly showed off her pallet of furs.
I wouldn’t release his hand.
Demik used his other to pry me off. The idea that he wanted to be rid of me, that he didn’t share this connection, confounded me.
He told me to stay and have a pleasant sleep. He’d see me in the morning.
Skeen had wrapped her arm around my shoulders, talking.
I couldn’t hear, eyes locked on Demik’s. When he looked back I saw so much more than he said. Mostly, I saw his agreement that I should be with him. Then why did he walk away?
Tem showed me my spot.
I followed Demik. I could just spot him and ran as he reached a peaked den.
He turned at the sound of my steps.
I hugged him.
He took me back to Skeen. He left.
Qualin visited, bade me good hunting. I smiled when he kissed my hand and called me silver lady. I hugged him, kissed his cheek, and he returned the embrace.
The family had settled in: Skeen, her mate, Vicos, with their younger, toddling kit, Coom, and Tem nesting with me. I sat on the caribou hide, watching cracks of sunlight through windows curtained in painted canvas. Lower and lower until the sun dangled by the horizon.
I had crept from the den silently that time. I pulled the wrap from Skeen over the shift, slipped on my moccasins at the door, then ran like a hare to Demik’s den.
He sat on a timber platform at the front, petting a big puppy and talking with another dog-fox about canoes. Demik and the puppy looked around, then the other male. Demik’s eyes widened.
The other grinned. He gave Demik a wink, then nodded at me as he walked away. He snapped his fingers. The puppy bounded after him, tripping over its own paws.
Demik scrambled to stand. He crossed his arms. “What are you doing? This is a stray den. I told you. It’s me and three other dog-fox strays. Not you.”
I knew what he meant, yet it still confused me. Strays were foxes who had come of age but had yet to find a mate. How did that keep them from having a visitor? The way Demik said it, it seemed like he thought he was saying they were deathly ill and I’d best flee.
“My sister will look after you,” Demik continued. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
I held his crossed arm at the elbow and leaned my face into his shoulder. Steady and warm, wood smoke and huckleberries, solid as the birch grove. I sighed, breathed him in. How could my own heart both skip and slow with soothing nearness of him?
He leaned in too. His breath warming my ear with the forever setting sun at my back. He took my hand. His pulse quick, the beat in his thumb clear on my skin.
“You can’t… You … have your own people.” His voice was very soft. “You can’t just throw yourself at any dog-fox you come across. You’ll get hurt. I care about you too, but let’s figure out who you are before rushing into anything that… We don’t even know what’s going on.”
I smiled. I’d had to struggle to remember the name of a fork, but I knew exactly what was going on—what to call falling in love.
This time he would kiss me. I looked up, smiling into his eyes.
Demik took a quick step back, breathing fast. He still held my hand, but as if to push me away rather than to keep us connected.
“Go home to Skeen. I’ll take you back. And you have to stay. There are mother bears out at night this season. I’ll come to get you in the morning—”
Running feet, a thump, a crash. We looked around.
One dog-fox had staggered and just kept himself upright. The other was sprawled on dirt. His companion helped him up.
They came to meet us. Demik’s denmates. They didn’t mind my being there, were pleased to see me. They wore funny clothes: human vests over shirts, with blue or black bandanas around their necks.
Mej was taller, with short hair. His brown eyes blazed with interest and stardust. I longed to have my nose on him, sure he smelled of snowy days and bonfires both at once. With my skin nose and distance, all I smelled was tobacco, something sharp, alcoholic, and a bit of his own personal scent like ashes at the bottom of the fire.
I loved how he stood, shoulders back, arms open, inviting the world, challenge or embrace.
When he held out his hand and I touched it, feeling his heat and strength in the pads of his fingers, a hidden gentleness in the way he didn’t close his hand on mine but allowed the simple touch, I shivered.
The younger one, Mej’s student, didn’t speak with us. He nodded, smiled, but Mej took all the sun. Komu appeared used to this, though it also seemed to me that it hurt him. With an enchanting face and watchful eyes that he kept on me from behind Mej, he started to move forward but never actually came up to me. He may also have held back because his trousers were covered in reeking mud.
More important than any touch or appearance, they were part of this den with Demik. For that, I longed to hold onto Mej and Komu as I held onto Demik.
I wasn’t surprised when Mej asked if I’d be his mate. He must have felt instinctively how we fit in one skulk. I tried to tell him yes—including Demik as well. If both could think of me as their mate Demik would have no more unrest over my being here. Or … I hoped so.
I tried to ask, yet Demik was upset about Mej.
Mej and Komu walked away to their own back entrance to the den before Demik led me “home” to Skeen’s den.
I’d gone with him because he wanted me to. I should have been willing to do anything for him. Maybe I would have, too, only Mej had said I was welcome to stay.
Had I been wrong about Demik? If Demik really had a good reason for me to stay away, Mej would have known and understood.
Demik talked to me softly by log walls. He opened the door to show me in.
I could hardly breathe through constriction in my chest, fire in my eyes. I couldn’t go in there now and sit with Tem and cry. She was just a kit.
Last edges of sun still warmed treetops as I walked away. I didn’t want Demik to see. I should be respectful of him and his space.
Maybe he was right? Maybe these things had an order, had to take a certain amount of time, only I couldn’t remember? Like the migrating birds, people meet, they do … certain things: a talk, a walk, a touch, and over a moon phase, or many winters, they decide they feel a certain way about the other person. It could be that how I felt for him was no more than a manifestation of all this confusion and forgetting.
Demik knew who he was and where he came from. Demik was the one who was right.
>
I hurried from the den, past rows of others, tents or logs, some being built. The settlement was quiet. I could walk to the river as twilight settled; think. Then curl down with Tem and sleep. First, remember the proper order to things by his example.
Demik’s steps followed.
I ran, so embarrassed by this misunderstanding that I hoped I was wrong about the sound. I hadn’t tried running yet. I tripped and Demik grabbed my arm, keeping me on my feet.
“Stop, please—” He was whispering. “Are you all right? You’re really that upset by staying with Skeen?”
I shook my head, wiping my eyes with my wrists and turning away.
“I’m sorry.” His voice was painful.
Knowing I hurt him made me see those were the words I wanted: I’m sorry. I moved my lips.
“What?” He cupped my jaw with his palm. “What are you trying to say?”
I worked to build the shape of words on my tongue. It felt like trying to build a bridge with blades of grass. I shook my head violently.
“It’s all right. You’ll get speech back.” He smiled weakly. “Mej will help. You liked him? He can talk as fast as the hawk flies. Do you know English? Mine’s not perfect, but his is. We’ll both help in whatever languages you know. Obviously you know Vulpen. Probably a couple of Na-Dene tongues, right? You’ll get your speech, memory, then find your people and your name. I promise. Please … I can’t imagine how frightening this is for you…” He wiped moisture from my cheeks with his thumbs.
I finally met his eyes, still trying to say I was sorry.
“You can come home with me,” he murmured.
I shook my head again.
“Yes, you can. If that’s where you want to be. Mej is right. There’s even the extra pallet. I have a fresh blanket. Tweal isn’t very … clean. But we have space.”
I watched him, bit my lip.
“It’s fine. It’s up to you.” He kissed my forehead.
While I’d held his arm, Demik had led me to the den. I was so tired and confused I couldn’t think, overwhelmed and uncertain. Filled with joy for being with him, yet fear that I was doing this all wrong and wasn’t supposed to love him.
The den was so dark by the time we reached it, Demik lit a tallow candle.
I sniffed for which pallet was his, washed my face in the cold basin he offered, hearing soft voices from Mej and Komu curling up beyond the canvas wall, and settled down on his bed while Demik was pulling off his tunic and washing his face.
I slipped from my wrap, into the blanket and soft caribou hide. I snuggled over to the far side, against the wall of the den, so Demik would have room.
“Here’s a blanket for—”
Thanking him and Earth Mother in my mind, I breathed in his smell as if he were already there.
I’d heard Demik sit on the other pallet, then, gradually, he’d climbed into the bed with me and let me curl myself around him, head on his chest, feet twined with his.
There could be more. More than an embrace, more passion, more contact, sharing our bodies. Sometime… If … it might be possible Demik felt the same…
I’d fallen asleep thinking of what he’d said about June and the midnight sun.
Now the den was warm with late morning light. Demik’s arm was around my back. His heart beat near my ear. When I finally felt him stir, waking, I kissed him—chin, lips—then snuggled down into the hollow of his throat once more.
Voices. Mej and Komu up. I smiled.
Demik shifted, looking or reaching for something, then turned in and kissed each of my eyelids, his lips soft as wings of a butterfly.
I hugged him, moved my lips to tell him… Yet finding my throat soundless.
Some of the joy melted. I pulled back to meet his eyes, then touched my own throat, moving my mouth as if for words.
“I know. You need to find your voice. We’ll make it our priority today. You did talk once, right? You only need to get the shapes and sounds of words back after having a fur muzzle and throat for … however long?”
Demik turned his face away, stifling a yawn before he went on. “I was just thinking of someone else. Ondrog, our outsider, has been a nomad in his lifetime. My people settled here many years ago. That’s why the settlement grows more and more permanent, log dens now…” His tone took on that dark quality and he stopped. “Anyway, it’s not in our nature to remain in one spot year-round and build log homes like humans. But we are now. One person around here who’s been a traveler recently enough to know something about a silver fox clan might be Ondrog. Let’s talk to him. Then find you breakfast and see what we can do about getting your words back.”
I nodded and snuggled into him once more.
“Tried your ABCs yet?” Mej’s voice through canvas.
Demik stiffened, making a stifled growling sound in the back of his throat.
“Like teaching a kit,” Mej continued. “The sounds, the basics. It’ll come right back.”
I propped up slightly, smiling down at Demik, filled with greater delight to have both of them on my side, sure I’d be speaking clearly in a matter of hours.
Demik’s expression softened. “She says yes, that sounds … excellent.”
“Should we teach her in Vulpen?” Komu’s voice. “What else does she understand?”
“We?” Demik’s tone tightened again at the extra interruption.
Of course we. Even Demik had said Mej could help last night. Why not all?
I kissed him but Demik sat up on the pallet. It was a foot off the ground and he swung out his legs to stand. He wore only long underpants. I longed to wrap my arm around his chest, lick his bare back.
I let him go.
Chapter 12
Ondrog lived in the settlement’s only tepee on the northwest corner, not far from the river where Tem had netted me from the bridge. He was so far removed he seemed not a part of the settlement at all.
There were no dogs at his den. No mate or kits. Only a solitary raven flapped away from a jutting pole of the den as we walked up. Demik held my left hand. Mej walked on my other side. Komu trailed.
Ondrog sat before his den on a woven mat in the sun. He was stitching seams on a new tunic. When the raven flew, he looked up to spot us approaching. There was something familiar about him that matched the image of his den, even the raven. Familiarity in the bulk and obvious power of him. Then I remembered Demik saying Ondrog wasn’t a fox at all. Yes, I knew him from knowing others like him. But … when? Who?
Demik said something and it took me a second to understand what: “Morning.”
Ondrog gave a nod. I was surprised at how young he looked. A long wolf at his age? His long hair was loose but he wore a headband set with fangs, talons, and black feathers that matched his hair and seemed a part of it. Though he sat cross-legged, I could tell if he stood he would loom over me. Even his wrists were thick with muscle. Like the foxes, he had no stubble on his face. Unlike them, that face was broad, square—still enchanting, especially in this setting of a million songbirds and summer warmth and midday sun so early in the morning.
I smiled at him—would have gone up to sit with him if not for Demik and the others stopping. I glanced to Demik, my hand tugging his before I also paused.
This time, when they spoke, I was following. They’d changed languages. We’d been using Vulpen together. Demik addressed the wolf in something new, yet … not new. I understood just as well. I only couldn’t think what this language might be.
“I suppose you’ve heard we met a new friend yesterday,” Demik said. “We’re not sure what her name is. It’s been a while since she’s worn skin.”
Ondrog nodded again. It made me smile more, comfortable to know he didn’t find anything peculiar in the idea of me.
“We need to find her clan,” Demik continued, voice laced in sunlight. “She’s a silver fox.”
The wolf’s eyebrows twitched.
“You wouldn’t happen to have come across silvers on your travels?”
“Good to know.” Demik glanced at me. “And … you haven’t smelled newcomers lately? Haven’t heard anything while you’ve been out?”
Ondrog shook his head.
“Thanks,” Demik said.
Another nod.
“Always nice talking with you,” Mej said.
They turned away.
Ondrog resumed work.
Demik tugged my hand, realized I wasn’t moving, and looked around.
I slid my fingers from his and walked to Ondrog’s woven mats, which made a sitting space around a small, empty cooking fire before his den. Three long mats. Plenty for visitors. Yet he had none. I knew a tight feeling in my belly that said he never did.
Like walking, the idea of opening my mouth to speak was already feeling normal, coming back. Almost as natural as using my brush for balance as I ran, or twisting my ears to a new sound. Almost.
A sound came, but it was a sort of hum. I shut my lips, shaking my head regretfully. Touching my chest below a deerskin tunic of Skeen’s, I pointed to the mat by Ondrog.
He gave a hint of a shrug. “At your discretion.” He spoke in that new language, voice a rumble, octaves deeper than even Demik’s. It warmed my chest, left me eager to soak it in. A voice like the soft beat of a drum, which made me wonder where I knew drums. I could picture one, imagine the sound. Who had played? Who had danced? Surely there’d been dancing. Which made me think I loved to dance.
I considered what he said in this new language while Demik gently took my arm, trying to lead me away. Ondrog meant, “Do whatever you want,” so I sat beside him.
I didn’t worry about crowding. Wolves are close. Bunching up, touching, the whole family curling up together. Who had told me? Where had I seen a pack together? I had no idea. But I knew that wolves needed packs. Whereas we foxes drifted in our clans, forming up bonds or families, but acting independently as much as we could. Total foxes had no clans at all. Only a mate, sometimes kits. Wolves were different. Ondrog hadn’t put out three mats to sit alone.
Fox’s Dawn: A Foxy Reverse Harem Shifter Romance (Foxes of the Midnight Sun Book 1) Page 5