Ondrog greeted them in his usual fashion—showing as much enthusiasm for life as a gutted plover. A nod, a second in which he stared at Komu, who rode blissfully in his beloved’s arms while his absurdly skinny brush dangled almost to her knees, then all set out east and north.
The day exploded with life, motion, light and color. Summers here were so short they had to cram a million new lives, buds, blooms, hatchlings and sucklings, sunlight and summer rain, into a matter of weeks. July, August, a flash of fire, a blaze of September, then cold and darkness would settle over this land once more.
One could not blink in summer or risk missing this part of life. Now they worked constantly to prepare for winter—fishing, gathering, preserving, building, bringing in wood. Soon, they would be surviving it. Then the cycle began again.
Until now. This summer everything had changed. Four days at the end of June and their lives would never be the same.
It was scary, confusing—those two terrible things. But it was also bliss and adventure, passion and rage, fulfillment and longing. For these reasons, he already never wanted this particular summer to end.
The vixen walked ahead with Ondrog, still carrying Komu, now draped around her shoulders like a dead pelt. Not that he would be worth skinning.
Summit. Such a peculiar name. So odd, in fact, Mej wondered if she was certain. Was her injured mind playing tricks on her? Not only unable to remember, but now sending false signals?
Could be his saying the word had triggered something that she’d only confused for a true memory of her name. Yet her passion, her delight at the discovery, was contagious. Besides, she was a silver fox. She wasn’t from here. Her accent in Vulpen wasn’t like theirs. Her clan must be from the east—to judge by her tumbling down the river to them. With luck, they could meet up with the silver clan, peculiar names and all.
With true nobility of spirit, or else simple obliviousness to signals he sent, she kept talking with the wolf. That was when she wasn’t laughing at Komu’s nose investigating her ear or his whiskers tickling her neck.
Ondrog answered her in monosyllables, or shook his head, sometimes glancing at her and away as if he couldn’t decide what to make of her.
Thanks to noise from the river, Mej could only hear a stray word, even with his sharp ears, but he gathered she was asking how he’d come to be living there and, naturally, Ondrog wasn’t casting his feelings at her feet. That wolf had been through hell. Perhaps he was socially deprived and lonely and all that, but it didn’t mean he craved a long talk with a stranger about it.
Frustration still building, Mej slowed even more. He noticed that Demik was also not closing the gap to be closer to the three.
“So…” Demik said quietly, watching Summit ahead. “She has a name. That’s … good news.”
“Certainly is.” Mej glared at the strip of rust red fur looped around her neck, gleaming in the sun.
Komu had never even bothered getting around to feigning an injury. Nor had Summit seemed to notice the kick she’d witnessed. Maybe she could tell Komu was fine, or that it wasn’t meant to hurt him, or she thought that was perfectly normal behavior between them. Or maybe she hadn’t registered the event in light of spotting Komu’s “beauty.”
With her, Mej couldn’t tell. It was part of the confusion with her. Part of the fear as well.
“A nice name,” Demik said. “It’s pretty.”
“It’s weird,” Mej said.
“Yes,” Demik said. “But that must be the way of her clan.”
“Yes,” Mej echoed.
Both looked only ahead. They walked in silence, their steps falling softly, Mej in boots and Demik in moccasins.
Far ahead, Summit laced her bony fingers through the thick, strong fingers of the wolf. He looked down, stared but did not pull his hand away.
Mej let out a slow breath through his mouth.
Demik’s jaw tightened. He looked quickly around at nesting songbirds, then fixed his gaze on the trail. He pulled the rifle strap from his shoulder and moved it from left to right to keep the weight shifting.
Summit giggled, reaching her free hand to rub Komu’s head.
Demik sighed. After another silence he said, just as quietly, “Everything all right last night?”
“She had a wonderful time.” Mej also watched the trail.
Demik cut him a sharp look, then turned his face forward again.
“A wonderful time in a good way,” Mej said, rolling his eyes. “She filled up on candy, danced, and learned her own name all in one night. We should all be so lucky.”
“Blessed,” Demik said through his teeth.
“What?”
“Not lucky,” Demik snapped. “Blessed.”
“That’s right.” Mej cracked his knuckles. “Blessed by the butterflies. That’s how wonderful her evening was.”
Demik stopped to face him. The drama was lost since Mej simply kept walking. Demik joined him again and they walked for another hundred yards before Demik spoke.
“She shouldn’t be in that city.”
“I agree.”
Demik looked at him.
Mej rubbed his hair back and forth as he walked, getting hot in the sun. He unbuttoned his vest. “She doesn’t understand about humans. About men. If she wants a visit now and then for a pair of boots or a bonbon, fine by me. Komu and I will look after her. But … I wouldn’t want her thinking she should make a habit of the place.”
“And … you would be willing to tell her that? She thinks since you go all the time it’s fine for anyone to go.”
“I’ll tell her.” Mej spoke even more softly. “I can cut back going also. Let her see there’s more to life here than fraternizing with humans. It’s the novelty she likes—”
“Everything is novel to her. That’s … why…” Demik swallowed. “I want to trust her. I want to follow her, see where she leads us and hope it brings us to her people and closer to … to whatever it is we need in this life. To Earth Mother’s plan. At the same time … I fear for her. If she is here to guide us … then we’re here to protect her on the path.”
Mej looked at him until Demik met his eyes. “What is it you think she is? A kindred? A divine messenger?”
Demik faced ahead.
Mej scratched the back of his neck. He drew a cigarette from the case in his trouser pocket. “She’s a vixen who hit her head and can’t remember how she got here. I don’t suppose that matters, though. You think whatever you like. As to your other point, that one I understand. The way she dashes into everything without any inhibitions is … trouble.” Mej lit his cigarette while Demik nodded. “Particularly around humans, and males, and male humans.”
“What did she do?” Fixing Mej with his black eyes.
Mej blew out smoke from the corner of his mouth, away from Demik. “Nothing. We were right there, weren’t we? Only she … well … she could have. And she hasn’t been shy about … you and I … for example.”
“That’s why you ripped her clothes off?”
“I did no such thing.” Mej coughed.
“She came in last night bubbling over—how she had her name back, how much she loved Dawson and hotels, dancing, music, humans, Frank, sweets, me, but mostly you. Your name came up quite a few times. Didn’t you hear? This all while she was stitching the buttons back on her … undergarments. Then she was curled up, sleeping like a newborn by the time I joined her.”
“Oh.” Mej pulled in the smoke for a long time. “I must have missed that. Komu and I fed the dogs last night when we got in. It was still early for us.”
“You’re quite sure nothing happened?”
“Of course I’m sure. Not with humans. I’m going to teach her English—did she tell you? Or remind her of it. I think she knows some. I thought Tem’s old—”
“If you can’t be gentle with her you’re part of the reason I’m afraid for her.” Demik’s angry words tumbled out, almost blurring together.
With the cigarette between two finger
s, Mej tossed up his hands. “What do you think I am? I never hurt her. I wouldn’t.” He swallowed, quashing the image of being with her on the third floor last night. Him pushing her into the window frame, bursting out of his trousers, not caring how she felt about it, ready to force her, so desperate it made issues like her own participation moot—much less gentleness. But he’d stopped himself, hadn’t he?
He’d stopped because of what he’d just said. He wouldn’t hurt her. He wouldn’t treat any female like that. He was no human. Also, most females of his own species would rip his balls off and shove them down his throat if he tried such a move. But that was the thing, the whole point, wasn’t it? She wouldn’t do that. She was sunlight and feather beds and soft river sand, pliant in his hands. If she hadn’t wanted him, what would she have done? Anything? She had wanted him. So it didn’t matter. They’d danced and mated and both felt the bliss of it—perfect unity. Still, the question remained: if she hadn’t?
That was the fear. It didn’t have to be exactly this thing, but this or a million other ways she could be hurt in the world. Around humans and beyond. Around total bears, raging rivers, thunder storms, territorial shifters. The world was a dangerous place. This particular part of it was a trial inside a challenge inside a three-legged race with death.
Mej had experienced thoughts, desires, that could, in theory, have led to hurting her. And he loved her. He was churned up inside wanting to keep her safe. If that was the best she had, there would be no mercy for her anywhere else.
Luckily for her, she did have better. Not only Demik, but the two ahead on the trail.
Ondrog’s fingers were still laced with hers. The wolf asked if anything smelled familiar to her and Summit paused to look around. She chuckled at leaf shadows, pointed out a nest in the black spruce trees, then shook her head.
Mej didn’t mind that hand in hers. He had no feelings one way or another for the wolf—hardly knew him. He knew wolves in general to be not only Moon-worshipping, socially demanding singing enthusiasts, but doting parents, devoted mates, and loyal to death to their packs. The wolf wouldn’t hurt her. She needed all the allies she could get—little did she know.
They walked on, Mej and Demik still trailing.
“She and I were in agreement last night. I would never hurt her,” Mej repeated. “I didn’t mean to tear those buttons. She didn’t mind so I don’t see why you should. And…” He let out a long breath. “And … she was right. That we need each other. She needs our protection.”
They stopped, as if prearranged, and faced one another on the invisible trail above the white river.
“Not from each other,” Mej clarified.
“No,” Demik said. “If she truly wishes to be with both of us that’s her choice.”
“But anyone who would harm her… The rest of the world…”
Demik nodded.
Mej hesitated, uncomfortable in saying nothing, yet knowing that they understood one another. They would protect her until she found her family, not in opposition, but in cooperation—no matter how they personally felt about each other.
Did Demik honestly think she was some fort of spiritual messenger? Wasn’t that carrying the Earth Mother creed a little far? Like other of their differences right now, it didn’t seem to matter.
What did matter between them was how they felt about preserving her light—mortal or immortal.
Mej swallowed. Someone had to say something.
Demik held out his hand.
Mej glanced at it, remembering Summit touching his that first night, how that contact had made him feel—still made him feel.
He grasped Demik’s work-callused hand and they shook, looking into each other’s eyes.
They nodded and walked on, finally catching up to the others.
Chapter 31
Night 4
It was a glorious day, perfect day, walking with the four of them up the long river.
Demik wanted me to capture something I’d known before: a remembered scent, a familiar sight, a memory of the point I’d entered the river.
Komu wanted me to carry him, play with my hair, tickle my ears with his whiskers, and share my lunch.
So much more rewarding to do what Komu wanted than Demik. I tried—looked, listened.
“What was the last thing you remember?” Demik asked. Or, “How was it you remembered your name? What was the trigger?”
I longed to do my part, remember everything, make them happy, find my family and know who they were…
I just couldn’t. I’d had to hear Summit to know Summit. So it made sense that I had to see the spot in the river where I’d first gone in to know it. Yet I walked and walked … and didn’t know anything besides them and sun and succulent salmonberries Komu found for me.
By the time the sun was gliding along the horizon, resisting setting for another hour or two, we stopped to make camp and undress to change. All day we’d nibbled venison and salmon so our meat was gone. It was dangerous. A bear could smell it for miles. Now we would catch our own food in fur for the rest of our time out.
Demik’s eyes were downcast when he sat to take his moccasins off. He rubbed the bridge of his nose, saying I should have noticed something familiar by now.
I sat to hug him. “I’m sorry—”
“No—” He stopped me and returned the embrace. “Don’t say that. You’re doing your best. I’m disappointed we haven’t made progress. I’m not disappointed in you. It’s a big difference.”
He kissed me. I leaned into him. I tucked my head down on his chest, ready to nap, noticing my sore legs and back and how tired I felt. When was the last time I’d walked a long way on two feet? I’d thought Dawson City was far. But all day? It didn’t matter. I’d been walking with them. That was what mattered.
Mej hadn’t said much, though he’d been watching me. I would look up to see his variegated brown eyes—fire eyes, spark and dance—locked on me and smile, yet he would only look away.
Ondrog had said even less. He’d walked with me. I’d held his hand and don’t think he minded. He wouldn’t say more than a few words, though. I’d tried asking about his family. He didn’t want to talk about it. We’d spent hours instead just walking, listening, scenting, pausing to drink from the river or watch an eagle or a doe and her fawns. It was good with him like that, soft and comfortable, like we fit—even though his hand swallowed mine.
Ondrog had been lonely for so long, maybe he didn’t remember how to talk right away. Like me, only … a different sort of not knowing. He would also learn.
Mej cleared his throat while I sat there against Demik. “Are we changing or not?” Sharpness in his voice, how he’d been speaking to Komu all day—when he’d spoken to him at all.
“Summit?” Demik pushed back my hair. “Do you want to change and curl up? It’s late.”
He’d already said we would go any way and any time we liked. Day was night and night was day out here. Our eyes in skin were not quick enough to safely travel through the gloomy hours, but those were few. Otherwise, we could move or rest whenever we liked.
“I want fur,” I said, surprised by the hush of my own voice. I’d been close to dozing against him. I smiled, yawned into his shoulder. “Not to curl up yet. I want to run in fur again.”
“Then you can check around the river. It might be a scent that helps you remember.”
I nodded. Demik was always so … attentive. Always working. I just wanted to pounce, dart, chase my brush. I wanted to smell again, hear, see through twilight. But I could try to sniff for … something… Something about me while I was furred.
Despite no more meat, we did have candy and our own things. Ondrog cached their bags in a tree for us. While he worked on these arrangements, helped by Komu, we stripped off, also rolling clothes into branches of spruce trees, then I stood, newly shivering in a breeze from the direction of the river, and waited to change.
Nothing happened.
Mej rolled up his clothes and changed. I hea
rd crackling of his bones, shrinking of his skin. Demik was very careful about folding everything just so, his dark buckskins making a neat bundle. Then he changed.
I nestled to my knees on forest mulch, part of my shivering skin in shade, part in light as the needles also shuddered. My shadow seemed to stretch for miles before the night sun.
I held out my hands. They were long, naked, smooth. I flexed my fingers. I thought about being a fox.
There was a furred fox. A beautiful, magnificent furred fox. Demik’s coat was dark as burnt honey, thick as January snow. He padded to me with a troubled look in his golden eyes with the slit pupils. Despite cosmetic changes to the eyes, emotion behind them remained the same.
I reached and he stepped in so I could stroke his head. “You’re so handsome, Demik. Your coat is the finest I’ve ever seen. I think…”
He tipped his head, his large ears focused to my voice. Still, he looked anxious.
“I only … I’m not sure…”
Mej pranced over. Trilling, he gazed up at me and flicked his brush in a quick wag.
“Hello, Mej.” I stroked his head also. He was long and handsomely coated as well. Paler and very orange beside Demik’s mahogany red.
What was wrong? I only needed…
Mej looked around at himself. He looked at me, then turned his other side to me.
I squinted. I couldn’t see any marking or anything amiss on his coat that he needed me to attend to. He was also a lovely fox. What could he need?
“What ails you now?” Ondrog had their bags stashed. Behind us, Komu’s little body crashed to the mulch after helping. He hadn’t changed all day.
“I don’t know,” I said, back to staring at my hands. “I … don’t think … I can remember how to change…”
“That’s all right,” Ondrog said, slow and calm as he walked over behind me. “You most assuredly will remember that one with a moment’s practice.”
Demik was agitated, pacing a tight circle, then turning away.
“Hold up,” Ondrog murmured. “No need for you to change back.”
Then I understood what Demik was thinking. “No, Demik. Stay in fur. You can’t go back and forth.” I looked helplessly over my shoulder and up to Ondrog.
Fox’s Dawn: A Foxy Reverse Harem Shifter Romance (Foxes of the Midnight Sun Book 1) Page 16