Fox’s Night: A Foxy Reverse Harem Shifter Romance (Foxes of the Midnight Sun Book 3)

by K. R. Alexander

  He softly pressed my fingers. “Her name was Coona. I see no trace of her in you, aside from two things.” A pause. “She was always looking after me. Even when she had other work to attend to. Even when I was well on my own and wanted for nothing. And, second, she was deeply devoted to her family. When she agreed to be my mate…” He looked off through the flap to the horizon. “The happiest moment of my life. I’d never been so proud of anything I’d ever accomplished. No successful hunt or skill or achievement in anything could compare to Moon’s blessing me with her favor—which she did not give casually. I was wrong to fault you for gregarious love. I see now it does not mean you are less devoted to those you love simply because you share. Moon gifts us each with our own strengths. This is one of yours. Never a weakness.”

  “I’m sorry for what happened to you, Ondrog. I lost my mate and it undid me, stole my own being. You lost your whole family and remained strong…”

  “I did not. I succumbed to fear and inaction when I should have pushed to seek out more wolves and follow Moon’s light. It took a physical manifestation of that light to get me moving. You contrived to come straight to the people who most needed you from your journey down the river. Now you say I should go on and find a new pack? I am still discovering you, Summit. Still unraveling myself from my own knotted spirit.”

  “I didn’t mean I wanted you to go. I could never want that. I only want you to be happy. To have what you need.”

  He kissed my brow again. “Happiness is a relative concept. I am the happiest now I have been in many a season. You have no need to worry for me.”

  So I did not. It seemed worry was not a natural part of my being. When Ondrog freed me of the burden, it was that simple to stop. If, and when, he met a pack out here, he would know what to do. And what he did was not my responsibility—or decision.

  After that evening with Ondrog, I manifested the only worry I had left into prayer and loving energy and envisioning a safe return for Demik and Mej and their families.

  Chapter 28

  Ondrog, Komu, and I spent increasing time together as three now. This closeness, our harmony with one another, filled me with a new joy that was beginning to warm through the gray and grief which still haunted my soul. Being with them was pure light, pure love, and, after I’d had the chance to talk with each that spring, pure peace.

  We fished and worked together. When chores were done, we rambled and studied letters and entertained kits.

  While some of their parents remained standoffish, Ondrog was soon a great favorite of little kits too young to change. They rode on his back in fur, helped us teach Ondrog more Vulpen, and soon all wanted headbands in the wolf style. Ondrog would sit for hours with them, or gamble about and explore. With them, he smiled so often I forgot my last vestiges of fear for him. With them, I even heard Ondrog laugh.

  Summers in our land are too short, yet this one seemed ever-changing, growing and becoming more, until it was a summer of lifetimes, a season without limits. All of us who had made the long journey basked in it—growing, falling in love with our new family and home. I found it as new in many ways as the rest.

  By August, when the days were already shortening and the midnight sun became a memory, I thought more of Black Ice. It was not with grief or even longing for him. It was of our kit who would never be, of the fading summer, and how it was time I had a kit of my own. It was a feeling almost as if I could give that first kit a second chance—as if either would have the same soul once born, and he or she had simply been delayed.

  It was hot enough to swim that August. I waded in the lake in the evening sun, talking to Black Ice, asking him to bless Demik and Mej, and how did he feel about a kit now? It always felt good, always an affirmation. I never doubted Black Ice brought them to me, wanted me in the biggest embrace possible since he could no longer be here. Yet … two still missing…

  Then Komu would come out to the shore, waiting, never venturing near until I caught his eye and smiled, inviting him.

  I could have stopped changing with him. Yet … it didn’t seem right. We had to be together. If this kit was to have four sires, let that be as true as possible. If Demik and Mej were not back by the time the leaves were flame-colored and the nights were noticeably longer, there would be no kit next spring.

  So we waited, while I mentioned none of this to Komu.

  It was different with Ondrog only because he and I were not compatible. Even with him, I talked little of any plans for the future, though sometimes of fears for the present as we went on waiting for Demik and Mej. Ondrog was always reassuring, not anxious the way Komu was. This, in turn, gave me comfort for another prayer, another day’s vigil with confidence instead of dread. What, after all, is a pack if not a source of strength?

  While I kept changing after lying with Komu, there were other new relationships in the clan that we celebrated, then watched as they kept on their skin. Two Aaqann River vixens had chosen two Bowl Lake dog-foxes, and the spring could not come quickly enough for them.

  This brought about much talk of kits and families as summer slipped away. Much talk that I could hardly join in.

  Later than expected, the clan of Black Ice also joined us for a time on the riverbank, coming up from the south on their annual roaming.

  It was another bereavement to see them. Of course they knew what had happened to Black Ice by then. For me, though, it was the first time I had seen his worn and surprisingly aged parents since our original union. It was another strain, while the embrace of his dam and relief of his kin to see I was home and well brought both a surcease of pain and even more of it at once.

  His clan showed a good deal of interest in the idea that additional red foxes, some mere kits or already seeking mates, were also making the journey. This carried the first night’s celebratory events and conversation. They would wait with us, they said, offer the travelers a festive welcome on their return.

  I ventured the next night to ask if they had encountered any wolf packs lately, to which I received an affirmative. Would they be passing by the lake this season? The foxes could not say.

  The waiting continued.

  Until the trees flamed, until they should have been back by now, and I was not the only one who often woke early or stayed up late, gazing to the east.

  While the days shortened and cooled noticeably, and another vixen quit changing, no eastern procession ever appeared on the horizon. What if it never did? What if they never knew? As Komu had lost faith in me, had Demik and Mej lost my love on the trail, believing that my past had dragged me away from them? Would I never be able to show them the truth?

  The nights were bitter, the first northern lights of the season being watched with wistful enjoyment for another display of Earth Mother’s dance, before I decided to start east and find them.

  Chapter 29

  Day 468

  I said nothing aloud, only asking Earth Mother and Black Ice—should I go?

  The first snow would be upon us anytime. Now it was rain, wet fogs, cold oppression in autumn’s heart. If anyone was going out hunting east, it must be in fur, and it must be soon. Still, I delayed, hesitated, struggling to keep my trust in Earth Mother’s blessings and Demik and Mej’s skills and perseverance to reach us.

  One night, with the three of us supposed to be going to bed, I sat as always in the flap, listening, silently praying. The other two, now accustomed to sleeping one to each side of me, also remained up.

  After a long hush, Komu said, “It won’t help to go after them.”

  I looked quickly around.

  Ondrog was frowning. “You suppose we don’t comprehend what you are thinking? There is nothing to be done. One must wait—have faith.”

  “I was thinking,” Komu said—uncertain while Ondrog was only stern. “Perhaps keep a large fire at all hours? At least on dry days. They would see the smoke in the day, the light by night. If they are near and trying to find the exact camp, it could help.”

  I crept back
to them, embraced each, and curled down with them—gladdened by Komu’s idea if otherwise unrelieved.

  In the morning we reinforced the sides of one of the open fires and built it up. All day Ondrog, Komu, and others chopped extra wood while I could hardly work at all, watching east.

  The day was interminable, dragging like a season, the air expectant with building storm clouds from the north. It should be far too cold for thunder storms. Yet hairs on the back of my neck prickled and snatches of conversation from the elders told me they sensed the same.

  Supper was early, the sun still up, many eyes now keeping watch on those clouds.

  Would they be caught in the same storm? Or were they still hundreds of miles away—out of reach?

  Something must have gone wrong. I could change and go. I could even tell Ondrog and Komu, no matter that they disagreed, and they would come with me. Perhaps the group was close but lost. Perhaps Ondrog could sing for them. Perhaps they had never left Dawson City because of trouble with humans. Or, perhaps, they had never even reached it? Humans, bears, sickness, rockslides, rivers, and more in the wilderness might have gotten the better of them.

  There was no pink sunset, only intense gray. Komu came up behind me, kissed my neck, said we should have an early bed like the rest before the rain.

  Still, I could not settle. With light remaining in the sky, I walked to the lake. Most unusually, both Komu and Ondrog followed.

  They made me smile—a relief that I could feel lighten my chest—and assure them I intended nothing rash.

  I held their hands, prayed, and they joined me, remaining close until the first distant rumbles of thunder reached us and we turned back.

  I watched the sky while Ondrog froze, staring ahead.

  I gripped his hand, waiting for his signal as I could detect nothing.

  Komu glanced at us, then followed Ondrog’s gaze. He caught his breath.

  I was the last to see it. Something moving along the river’s edge. Something … fluffy. Something mahogany in the gloomy gray light. Coming fast along the shore into camp, running like a flame through dry grass.

  I tore away from Komu and Ondrog, racing through reeds, brush, and onto the rocky river’s edge.

  “Demik!” I screamed as he reached the first den and slowed.

  The big, dark red fox’s ears sprang forward; his head snapped up. He froze at the edge of camp where he’d been ready to sniff me out. Still, he could not see me. Distance vision was dreadful in fur.

  I ran even faster, waved both arms, tripping, shouting his name again.

  Thunder echoed through the valley, almost drowning my voice.

  Demik started to lope, still looking around. Foxes in skin emerged from dens, also looking in all directions. Some called out.

  “Summit?”

  “What’s the matter?”

  “Did she say something?”

  I only ran, called his name, and finally Demik spotted me.

  His lope exploded into a sprint. He flew along the bank with the grace of red lightning. Faster and faster I raced, tears streaming from the corners of my eyes, hardly able to breathe, then crashed to my knees on the shifting stones as Demik hurled himself into my arms. I caught him, clutched his whole body to my chest while Demik gasped with tiny, speeding pants, whimpering, squeaking, thrashing against me as he wagged and pawed and licked my skin. At the same time, the first big raindrops began to strike us, merging with my tears.

  Now foxes were rushing out, calling. There were a few in fur and they clicked or trilled, questing, listening.

  Thunder boomed.

  “Where are they?” I gasped in his big, white and black ears. “Demik? They’re with you, right?”

  Demik sprang from my arms. He dashed back along the bank. I followed, knees sore, raindrops splashing into my face.

  Lightning flashed.

  Then, from the gloom, came foxes. Only a few in fur, running toward us, yapping or barking with a quick, “Wuk-wuk-wuk!”

  Then, at a jog, clearly exhausted but pushing themselves, Skeen and Mej came into view in skin. Then Qualin, Tem, the kits. Laughing, crying, calling out, they rushed upon us like the storm.

  Demik paused as I ran past him, waiting while Mej and I met. He spun me around, crushing me to him until I again could not breathe, then he held on while the rain really began to fall and others hurried past us, inviting, embracing, sobbing. For once, Mej had nothing to say. Nor could I think of any words that could mean more than simply holding on.

  They were here, safe, even the youngest. They’d gone a little south to follow the river and make sure they did not miss us, pace slow with young and old, but they’d made it.

  There was much fast talking, exclaiming, rushing into shelter as the current den-holders of the former Aaqann River Clan invited all the new arrivals to come in and stay and pull the packs from their backs before everything was soaked. They’d brought dogs packing as well. The Bowl Lake Clan had none—our own sentries and hunting companions in fur, and using the waterways without sleds to travel—so no fights erupted.

  Then Komu was there, embracing Mej, laughing, and Ondrog pointed the way for Demik. At the same time he guided me for the den with one arm around my shoulders since I was doing nothing useful. The clouds had opened. Rain dumped in sheets and thunder crashed while Ondrog led the five of us into shelter.

  My hair and dress were already drenched. Demik shook himself. We stumbled around in tight space of the den in the dark, Mej trying to get his pack off, Ondrog trying to dry my hair with a blanket, Komu fumbling to light a candle that rested on a bone hook below one of the support poles.

  He was telling Mej how we’d worried with winter closing in, Mej saying they were well. I couldn’t really hear, shaking, holding onto Mej, then Demik. So grateful, so many thanks filling me, it was as if here, at last, came the end of the running, the searching, the seeking through endless nights. Here was the joy, the love, the reason for laughter and hope and delight in the smallest things.

  As long as they understood that also it made that longest of all nights worth it.

  I tumbled back on my sleeping skins while Mej and Komu were struggling to hang up their wet tunics and get the pack and gear out of the way. Ondrog remained concerned over my own damp state. Demik scrambled to find the space to change.

  What of those concerns? Of them stepping back from me? Did they still have any hesitations? Would it be enough to show them how I felt now?

  At last, Demik embraced me. “You’re freezing.”

  “What did I just tell her?” Ondrog snapped.

  Had he? It was once more a time of year that it was dangerous to be wet.

  As the rain hammered on the den walls and the temperature dropped with both nightfall and the storm, they helped me undress and wrap up in sleeping skins. I didn’t want to be wrapped in the cold furs. I longed to be wrapped in them.

  Komu and Mej dropped to one side of me, also drying and talking of the storm and their timing in arriving here. Demik was on the other, pulling a woven blanket around himself now. Ondrog sat at the den flap, tying it down before undressing—still glaring at me in the tallow candle’s glow. For my thoughtlessness, I assumed. But how could he expect me to think at a time like this?

  Shirtless, shivering, and not wrapped up, Mej climbed over Komu to hug me while Demik was momentarily busy with his own blanket. Finally, I could grab them both, pulling them to me with an arm for each.

  Mej’s face was ducked into my shoulder. Demik’s in on my damp hair. Still, neither had actually kissed me, despite the other intimacies. Waiting for me. I’d hardly said anything since Demik sprang into my arms. Or had I uttered a single word? I couldn’t remember. Shaking from shock more than cold, struggling even to remember what I had to tell them, wishing they simply knew without discussion.

  “You need to know…” I gulped, fighting. “I … I didn’t want you to think we… When…” I hung on tighter, turning my face to one, then the other.

  Komu
leaned against Mej to kiss my cheek. “Summit didn’t mean for anything to change with us,” he said softly through the drumming rain. “What she remembered about her own past was a long time ago. She’s afraid you two went off thinking everything was over, but she never meant that to happen.”

  Demik pulled back and looked at me below the single candle reflecting off the pale hide walls. Mej also sat up.

  I swallowed. “I found you when I needed you most. And when you needed me. I love you both—all of you. That will never change. But … things have changed. You could each have your own family now. That part’s up to you. For me … I never stopped wanting you to be with me. Never.”

  Demik finally kissed me. “You’re right,” he said softly after a pause. “We did wonder. We didn’t know if you would be ready for a mate again. Then … we…” He glanced to Mej.

  “We missed you,” Mej said—as if summing up. “More than I’ve ever missed anyone or anything in my life. Getting back to you … that’s been our lives lately.” He kissed me very gently on the lips, then looked into my eyes, smiling. “If that answers your question?”

  “I want kits,” I said, still breathless, yet immeasurably lighter, warmer.

  “Of course.” Mej scrambled onto his knees to finish undressing. “At once. How many?”

  I laughed, bursting from me in a new shock. “I meant to talk about a family—”

  But they were all laughing, even a smile from Ondrog.

  “It’s too late in the season.” Demik shoved Mej, but he was grinning.

  “It’s not,” Mej scoffed.

  “It is late…” I ducked my head against Mej’s chest. “And we haven’t had a ceremony… But … not too late, is it?” Looking from one to the next, almost begging them to agree.

  “No one would ever object to us,” Mej said. “Don’t bother about that. And it’s only October. Just in time, I’d say.”

  “You could still change later, Summit.” Demik kissed my neck. “You don’t have to know for sure this moment.”