Waiting...
Waiting... By Primus Leonides
Okay, fellow furries, here is a sappy, somewhat romantic, not completely furry story that is very much not about yiff. I wanted to try something different, so I went for the letters between lovers angle during the war. I don't think it is my best work, but I think it came out well for what it is. Thanks all, comments, critiques, and whatnot are always appreciated.
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June 6, 1943
Dear Thomas,
The war has escalated. Things are bad. I know I said that I would be back to you again soon, but I've been drafted and sent to war. My regiment moves out in six short weeks, just long enough to fit us with our uniforms, give us guns, and send us off to die. I missed you before, but now, with a chance I may never see you again, five minutes in your arms is the dream that will keep me going. I remember the days we spent together in the summer, laying side by side in the grass, staring up at the sky and laughing, our paws gliding lightly over one another's arms. I could stare into your eyes forever, my love. The bus will be here in the morning early to take me to Basic Training. I will write to you as soon as I possibly can my dear.
All my love, Randall
June 12, 1943
Dear Randall,
It feels as if you have been torn from my arms, just the same as in my nightmares. I've read the news, and heard the reports from the radio. Furs are dying everyday, by the thousands. I have a feeling inside me telling me that I will never see you again. Your family tells me that you will be deployed as soon as your training is over. You won't even get a chance to come home again before then. I don't know how to say goodbye to you. I curl up every night thinking of you, missing your strong arms around me, your loving and tender licks and kisses all along my back, making my fur stand on end. I have to press pillows up against my back just in order to fall asleep at night. Train well, be safe, and come back to me soon. I miss you everyday.
Yours forever, Thomas
August 2, 1943
Dearest Thomas,
I know it has been several weeks since I have written you, and I'm sorry. We were forbidden to write during Basic Training. It was so intense, we trained hard every day. We barely had any rest. They worked us like the dogs we are. I'm in an all canine unit, which is both good and bad. Good that at least I don't have to get used to any strange smells, but bad in the way that every once in awhile some other furs' scents trigger something in me that reminds me of you, and I remember that day when I had to leave you. It was the last time I saw you, so it is burned into my memory. The sight of you, shirtless and beautiful on the front porch, your fur glowing in the sun as I pulled away. Oh how I wish to recapture that moment, to stop the car and run back into your arms, never to let go again. But alas, we have to ship out first thing next week. One last week to feel safe and secure. Our training will hopefully come to good use in the near future. My rifle is named Thomas, because Sergeant said that it was gonna be the one thing that would get us out alive, would protect us against anything. Of course that made me think of you. Our correspondence will still get through wherever I end up, the army has promised that. So keep writing to me, my love. I hear your voice in every word, and swear I can smell your scent of every page. Until next we meet.
Endlessly Yours, Randall
August 20, 1943
My Dear Randall,
I hate to admit that the day you were deployed, I cried for hours. The thought of you on a boat for several weeks on your way to the most bloody war yet made me whimper like a pup. The idea of you being in front of all that danger terrifies me. Your jovial nature the only tie that lifted me from my despair. I found it comical that you named your rifle after me. May it give you piece of mind and all the protection in the world, as I would. This letter will most likely arrive in Europe before you do. I pray that it will find you well. Happy and healthy and all that. I'm afraid I can't write anymore. The tears are threatening to smear the ink all across the page. Be well my love.
Faithfully, Thomas
September 7, 1943
Thomas,
My most darling and faithful Thomas, your letter indeed was awaiting me on my arrival to Europe. My regiment is stationed in a small town in liberated England. There are nightly bombings over the main parts of the city. The enemy is barbaric, and has killed many already, and we haven't even seen their faces yet. The training continues daily, our instructors doing their best to make sure that we all come home alive and well. I reread your letters every day, so much so that they are about ready to fall apart. Each time I read your words I feel your presence near me, and I hug them to myself each night as if it were you. My body aches for you, my dearest. In the deepest night, thoughts of you stir my blood to boil. Gods, to be with you again, even for only a moment, would be truest heaven on earth. Times will be hard in the near future, but I will write to you every time I have a pen in my paw. Until then, my most treasured love.
With Hope and Love, Randall
September 25, 1943
Oh Randall,
I race for the letterbox every day, my love, hoping for word from you that all is well and that you are coming home to me. I know that these correspondences take longer to travel all the way to England, but each one brings me hope and relief. It is always good to know that you are still alive, and fighting to bring peace. I wake every morning holding one of your pillows to my chest, usually a bit wet from the tears of a somber sleep. These months have been difficult to deal with, but I shall remain strong for you. To have you holding me tightly, your embrace full of love and desire, making my fur tingle. Your breath on my neck, your teeth on my skin, dragging me into such amazing ecstasy. I apologize for the uncivilized tone to this letter. I'm sure you understand at least as well as I do how much we miss each other. My darling Randall, return to me, make me yours again.
Gods' Speed, Thomas
October 17, 1943
Sweet and Tantalizing Thomas,
No apologies necessary my sweetest mate. Though your sentiments make me burn each and every time I read them, the delicious fantasy it conjured shall get me through many weeks. I find myself not alone in my yearnings for home. The male who bunks alongside me must have received a letter of similar nature to yours, for in the middle of the night I could hear him giving into his base urges created by the words of his own love. I must admit, the scent off him was hard to resist. I almost gave in to my own need to at least pretend that I had you with me. Now I must apologize for the content of my correspondence, these months have indeed been exceptionally difficult. Combat is coming for me my love. We will be moving to the front in just a few days, right before winter sets in. Our troop will be attempting to break into Northern Italy. I pity the soldiers that try to keep me from you, for the shan't stand for long. Your light is the only that drives me onward.
Sheepishly Yours, Randall
November 1, 1943
Delectable Randall,
The shivers up and down my spine at reading your latest letter left me panting and weak. The images in my head came unbade but not unwelcome. I'm glad you gave them to me before I read about your trip to the front. What news makes it to us here at home is mixed. I have heard about the push through Italy, and I can only assume that it is you and your regiment that have pushed all the way to the main lines of the enemy. I can only hope that your training and your desire to return to the warmth of my embrace are keeping you safe and warm. Be brave my love, the war will end, and you will be free to come home. I need you.
Dutifully Yours, Thomas
November 24, 1943
Happy Thanksgiving dearest Thomas,
I do hope that the holiday season is bearable for you. It is hard to believe that it is such a season here with all the terror, death, and destruction around. Our special dinner consisted of barely edible meat that they called turkey, and dried potatoes. Oh, to be back at home with your fantastic cooking. I can only imagine what feasting you and the family partook of. Makes my maw water just thinking about it. We are now at a forward encampment, having defeated much of the enemy force in Italy. We are closing on the enemy defensive line. Things will only get worse from here. Take comfort my lovely. If this campaign is successful, we will be able to keep the enemy on the run far more easily. Then it will only be a matter of time before I am home to you, taking as much time as I can to be held within you.
Wantonly Yours, Randall
December 21, 1943
Joyful Holidays my loveliest Randall,
The holidays here have been but a blur of time passing before my eyes. Each night still brings with it the fear of ill news of you. Your family has been wonderful, though I must confess that most of our gatherings consist mainly of commiserations about you. We all had our own good times. The stories I've heard about your puppy-hood. I couldn't imagine some of the trouble you got yourself into. It was good to laugh, it made the loneliness go away for a few moments at least. It seems I shall never get used to your absence. Merry Christmas my love. The greatest gift I could receive is you returning to my arms.
With Utmost Desire, Thomas
January 28, 1944
My Greatest Thomas,
The war goes well for us, finally. Most of the Italian land has been retaken, and we are closing in on Germany. This will be all over soon. The fighting is intense. Every moment I feel could be the end. I see you standing in front of me with your arms open, waiting to take me in them and make me warm and safe. And so I fight, pushing towards your awaiting arms. I've felt more alive in the past few weeks than I had in the last several months. But it compares not to how I will feel when I get to hold you again, to have you again, to love you again. My superiors have told us that a large campaign is in the works, one that could end this war once and for all. This war that claimed the entire world in its grip. And all I can think of is you.
Longingly, Randall
March 1, 1944
My Randall,
I'm sorry I have not written in many weeks, but the news has been terrible about the war. I have been frightened beyond belief. The loss of life has been catastrophic as the enemy is driven back and surrounded. I fear every minute that you have been harmed. No word has come from the military, so I assume that you are alive, and still pushing onward. I cry again at night like I did when you first left for the war. I feel so miserable right now. It takes all my strength just to get out of bed, and I await either a letter from you or news about you. Writing this letter is tearing me apart inside for fear that you will not ever receive it. I pray for word from you my dear. Please, allay my fears.
Frightfully, Thomas
April 12, 1944
Dearest Thomas,
I am alive, though I couldn't say well. I have been kept out of the fighting lately due to an illness. Now before you worry, I will be fine, it is just the flu. I am being well cared for, though I have been laid up for over six weeks in the hospital. They want me back as soon as possible, but I do not wish to leave. I have eaten better than I have in months, and I'm tended to night and day by the most amazing furs. Doctors and nurses who want nothing more than for me to get better, unlike the field medics who want to get one mobile and then back to the front. I wish I never had to leave, unless it was to go home. I would much rather have your tender caring compared to the even the best care the English have to offer. Even in the confines of a much nicer bed than I have had in awhile and the one thing missing in it is still you. Fret not my pet, I am fine, and will continue to be so. Until next we write, my dear.
Recuperatively Yours, Randall
May 19, 1944
My Beloved Randall,
I'm so relieved to hear that you are well.... enough. I know how you are when you are ill, so I'm sure you are giving those nurses a run for their money. I do hope that you recover quickly from your flu. I desperately wish that I could be by your side, tending to you, doting on you, just like when you are home. The war is dreadful. The stories the radio depict are terrible and make me tremble all over. All those boys fighting to their death for us. It brings tears to my eyes, almost as many as the thought of you over there, fighting for us to be free. I thank you, my lovely, from the bottom of my heart.
Relieved, Thomas
June 5, 1944
Thomas,
It's happening. Tomorrow we are heading in force to invade France. We are going to liberate the last of Europe and put the enemy down for good. It will be difficult, and painful. There will be more death in one day than in months. I am scared. I am afraid of losing you, afraid of leaving you alone in the world, afraid of you getting one of those damned telegrams telling you of my tragic loss in battle. Even though it is close, it still feels that I am forever away from you. Think of me, my dear, and beg the universe to bring me home, for I will be doing the same.
Terrified, but yours, Randall
July 10, 1944
Please Randall,
Since your last letter, I haven't heard anything from you or about you. It has been over a month since our last words. I do not know what has happened to you. The war is over, soldiers are returning home, and nothing, no word whatsoever. I would hope that the army would not keep word of you from me or your family. Here I go again, my tears staining the very paper I'm writing to you on, but this time I don't care. I need to know. What has happened to you my lover? I will check the mailbox again, hopefully I will hear something today. Everyday I look for word from or about you. It seems there are some people coming down the drive in a very official looking vehicle. Oh gods... this is it....