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Darwin's Legacy

Chapter 4 - The Power of Attraction

Snowdrop's nerves began to falter as she neared the encampment. How could she ever explain how she came to be in possession of one of the canine's sheep? She debated releasing it in the forest before she got too close but one look into its big dark eyes and she relented. The poor little thing would probably be killed by a badger or a weasel before the night was out, and she could not bear having that on her conscious. In fact, even the thought of turning it over to the cooks made her stomach turn. But her main concern just then was what to tell the rest when they questioned her about the lamb.

It turned out, however, that she need not have worried. The tribe was just sitting down to the evening meal when she arrived, still cradling the little sheep against her chest. When they saw her they jumped up as group and surrounded her, expressing their concern over her being out in such a wild storm. And although many of them gave puzzled looks toward the lamb in her arms not a single one dared to ask about it. It seems that the extraordinary is considered routine for a priestess, she thought.

"Could you lend me a thin rope for my lamb?" She asked one of the young warriors.

"Certainly." He replied after just the barest hesitation. "Are you going to eat it soon or wait until autumn when it has reached full size?"

"Neither. I intend to keep him as a pet." She suddenly decided.

Several of the tribe nodded sagely at her news. The priestess of the tribe of long hairs to the north kept a raven, and that of the orange-striped tribe beyond them had goat that could count to ten. If their priestess designate wanted a sheep as a companion, then why not? Of all the group, only Dawn's eyes were narrowed in suspicion.

"What do you intend to name your pet?" She asked, her voice not entirely free of skepticism.

"Darwin." Snowdrop blurted out, and immediately regretted it, but it was too late now; the whole tribe had heard. "Yes, Darwin." She affirmed. Dawn shook her head and shrugged before replying.

"Strange name."

* * * * * * * *

Two days later Snowdrop left the lamb Darwin in the care of one of the elders who watched over the pigs and set out for her rendezvous with the canine Darwin.

Evading Dawn was not a problem, even though she had moved in with her. It was traditional for the new priestess to inherit the former's hut and goods; save for personal items that would be buried with her. But Snowdrop had picked this date for the meeting because she knew that Dawn was going on an overnight visit to one of her old friends in another tribe, one of her few friends that was not a priestess. Since the visit had nothing to do with her tutoring Snowdrop was able to beg off accompanying her by claiming that she felt ill. She would collect bark and herbs around the encampment instead, she claimed.

When she left, early enough to be at the clearing long before the appointed time, she carried a pouch so that she could collect a few samples on the way out and back, just so that she would have something to show Dawn the next day. But she wore her best robe and all of her jewelry, including a lodestone pendant that was to have been part of her dowry before being chosen as the new priestess. She also applied a little scent to the fur behind her ears and under her arms, just in case it was hot on the long walk she told herself, so as not to offend.

On the way she was lucky enough to find a grove of rare mushrooms, and picked enough to half-fill her bag. She was careful only to cull them, and to leave enough to reseed the grove. She had been hoping to arrive at the clearing first, and picking the mushrooms only delayed her a bit, but when she arrived she found that Darwin was already there. From the way the grass was trampled it looked like he had been there pacing around the small open area for at least an hour.

"Hello, Tracker Darwin Beagle." She said, greeting him formally as was the tribe's custom for a meeting between acquaintances.

Darwin yelled and jumped because she had come into the clearing behind him quietly, and from downwind. He quickly regained his composure and turned to face her.

"Uh, greetings ... uh, Snowdrop, uh .... Gee," he shrugged, "I do not know if you have a title or a last name or what. How should I greet you?" His brows went up inquisitively.

"You should say 'Hello, Priestess Snowdrop' because we have only recently met. We do not add our breed name or other appellation, just our title, if we have one; very few females do. Warrior serves for most adult males." She paused in thought. "It is a little formal I suppose. How do canines greet one another?"

Darwin looked down and she saw that his skin had turned red under the thin fur of his face. Why do so many questions seem to embarrass him, she wondered?

"We, ah, sniff." He said, still looking at his feet. "Specifically, we uh, sniff the air ... behind them."

"Ahhh, because your noses are so sensitive you can tell where they have been and what they have been doing by the trail of odours behind them!" Snowdrop declared with newfound enlightenment.

"Something like that." He looked up and smiled. "Let me show you the formal version." Darwin stepped toward her and raised his paws. Before she could object he placed them on her shoulders. Snowdrop stiffened in a moment of involuntary revulsion at the uninvited touch but he did not notice. Moving her with his paws he first leaned to the right and down, until his snout was slightly behind her and just above hip level. There he paused and drew in a great draught of air through his nostrils. Then he repeated the process over her other hip.

How bizarre, she thought. _Any lower and we would be sniffing each other's anus. What would be the point in that? _ She took a tentative whiff but could not smell anything in particular.

When the maneuver was finished Darwin stood arm's length in front of her with his paws still on her shoulders, drawing short snorts in through his nose and looking puzzled.

"What is it?" She asked.

"You smell ... nice. Like flowers." Darwin dropped his arms and stepped back suddenly. "Flowers! That reminds me." He turned and trotted to the edge of the clearing where he stooped to retrieve a colourful bundle. He rushed back and passed it to her. Snowdrop was surprised to see that it was a bunch of flowers. There were several varieties of many different hues but they were all in full bloom. Snowdrop could not recall ever seeing any of them growing in the forest. She held them at arm's length as she examined them, wondering if they had any medicinal use.

"They are flowers from the gardens in our village square." Darwin explained when he saw her reaction. "The canine females like to get them because they are pretty and smell nice. So I thought you might ... I mean, you are a female and ... not that I'm inferring anything by them, but ... well, you smell nice, like them, today." Darwin had flushed and was looking at his feet again.

Snowdrop had to admit that the flowers were pretty. The dogs were known for their agricultural skills but she had no idea that it extended to purely esoteric pastimes like growing flowers for their looks. She brought them to her face and took a tentative sniff. She noted the similarity to the scented water she had splashed on before leaving. Some of these flowers must be highly cultivated versions of the wild roses that they crushed to make the scent with.

"Yes, they do smell nice." She admitted, and tried to add a compliment for him. "And you smell much less sweaty today." She was surprised to see him blush once again. Darwin struggled to switch the subject away from his excuse for sudden incontinence at their previous meeting by talking about the flowers.

"Our females put the flowers in a vase with water to make the house smell nice. How did you get the smell in your fur?"

"We crush the petals and mix them with oils from other plants or with the scent glands of certain animals before diluting them with water." She explained. "You comb it through your fur to smell nice for ... for almost the whole day." She had been about to say 'to smell nice for someone special'. Now it was her turn to blush, but it did not show so much under her dark coat.

"That's interesting." Darwin said. "With your short noses I did not think that scents would matter to you. Not that I have anything against short noses." He hastily added.

"We do not have your keen sense of smell," She admitted, "but scents are important for us. When we greet friends or family members we rub cheeks to exchange scent." Seeing Darwin's look of skepticism she stepped up to him and held out her arms. "Now let me show you."

Snowdrop stepped into his open arms and took his head between her paws. Pressing herself against him, because it was the only way to get close enough to demonstrate it properly, she tilted his head left and right as she closed her eyes and rubbed the side of her head against his. Two quick rubs on each side would have been enough, but when she felt his arms circle her waist she repeated the process, slower this time. When she was done she rested her forehead on his shoulder and tried to control her breathing, which for some unknown reason had suddenly become ragged.

Darwin did not dare move. The cheek rubbing had felt like nothing he had ever experienced before. It was certainly more exciting than when his mother scratched him behind the ears, and she felt warm and comfortable in his arms. He was also acutely aware of the fact that he could feel her small firm breasts pressing against his chest through the thin layers of their clothing. But although he would have liked to hold her like that undisturbed for a very long time, he finally felt compelled to speak.

"This is nicer than flowers."

Snowdrop pushed away then, as he was afraid she would, but she did it slowly enough to indicate that she had not found the experience unpleasant either. As they separated the pendant that she wore around her neck became momentarily tangled on the top button of his shirt, and he reached to unwind it. That is when he saw that it was not one, but two stones stuck together. All at once they separated, and he was afraid that he had broken it, but just as suddenly they leapt from his digits to rejoin with a sharp "click".

"Magnets!" He exclaimed. "They must be worth a fortune!"

"We call them lode stones." Snowdrop explained as she pulled them apart and released them to click together again in mid air. Each half of her pendant was a disc of dull black material with a grove around the edge. Either end of a thin cord was knotted firmly in the groove so that the disc would not slip out. When the discs were sealed against each other it looked like it was hanging from a loop, but by separating them she could remove the pendant without having to pull it over her head.

"I have heard that they have magic properties." Darwin said, a little amazed that she would have two of them for decoration. The foxes paid more for magnets than any other metal, even the weaker, rubbery ones they sometimes found stuck on larger sheets of metal.

"They do behave oddly." She admitted. "See these markings?" She separated them again and showed Darwin that each one had a dash stamped into the surface of one side and a cross on the other. "If you try to stick the sides with the same symbol together they just push themselves apart." She demonstrated, forcing the discs toward each other with trembling fingers until they shot from her grasp. She took them where they hung at the ends of the cord. "But when you turn the opposite sides to one another they attract." She reversed one, and they leapt together before dropping to hang from the loop their joining created.

"My mother gave them to me as part of my dowry, so that I could attract a suitable mate." Her voice had gone wistful. Darwin could sense some sadness and regret in her tone.

"Tell me how this 'dowry' works." He said, sitting down on the soft grass and inclining a paw to invite her to sit beside him. Snowdrop joined him on the turf, and without referring to her personal situation, began to explain the feline mating rituals to Darwin.

* * * * * * * *

They talked all afternoon and into the evening about marriage customs, social norms and habits. They argued about bows versus crossbows, hunting versus farming, and whether long hair or short hair breeds had the most advantage given the variable weather in these parts. They compared footwear and clothing, Snowdrop admiring the thick leather shoes that would protect those like her who had delicate feet, and Darwin complimented the feline moccasins, which would be more comfortable for tracking in the forest where the ground was soft.

As the evening approached Darwin produced a pack he had cached under one of the sweeping pines and from it drew a set of pots, some root vegetables, a small packet of meat wrapped in waxed paper and a box of crushed tea leaves. Trackers were often out all day and night and it was normal for one to carry extra food and clothing. He started to build a large fire but Snowdrop showed him how their warriors made one that required less wood and produced less smoke.

She dug a small pit and filled it with birch bark and small bits of dried wood. Then she arranged sticks in a circle around it so their tips met in the middle above the kindling. After it was lit the ends burnt quickly and the embers fell into the pit. She pushed each stick in as they did so that the small burning portion was always above the coals. After enough red-hot coals were accumulated she hung Darwin's stew pot on a stout green branch that would not catch fire easily. When the stew was done she changed the pot for his kettle and they brewed tea while the stew cooled enough to eat. She complimented him on the stew and on the quality of his tea.

"The meat comes from our herd," he explained, "and the vegetables from our fields, but we buy the tea from the foxes. They get it from canines that live further north, where the hills are exposed to the sun all day. But I am going to have to remember that fire trick. That will come in very useful when we are patrolling in .... the forest."

"You can say 'feline territory' Darwin, I understand." Snowdrop put one of her small delicate paws on his larger one to reassure him. "I might have been offended two days ago but now ... now I feel like I can talk to you about everything and anything. It is not like talking to the males in my tribe. Even before being named the next priestess they only wanted to brag about themselves. Only females really talk when they are together, but mostly about males. You know much more about the world."

"It's the same for me." Darwin smiled. "Life is strict in the village and there is a hierarchy enforced. Junior members hardly ever get to speak their mind and when they do no one listens. But you respond to my ideas and even when you disagree your criticism leads me to newer, better conclusions. I'm glad that I met you."

"Me too." Now it was her turn to smile. If either noticed that they were still holding paws they failed to mention it. "I am happy to have made a friend."

Darwin's ears pricked up at that.

"Your friend. Does that mean that we can rub cheeks every time we meet?"

"Yes," she giggled, slightly embarrassed with her eagerness, "If you like."

"Oh, I like. It's much nicer than sniffing bu... sniffing about. But it is getting late." He said with regret as he looked to the darkening sky. "We should be saying our goodbyes."

"Do you have a routine patrol; will you be coming by this way again soon?" She inquired.

"Unless we are on duty trackers are free to do other work or search for metal. I could come by three days from now, earlier than noon if you like. We could spend the whole day together. But speaking of day, I really have to go. If I am not back before dark they may send a search party after me, in case, you know .... felines." He shrugged.

"I will try to be here in three days." She said, wondering how she would get away from Dawn. Maybe if she told her that a relative from the next tribe was leaving and she had to go say goodbye. The thought reminded her that Darwin had to leave soon. "How do you say goodbye in your village?"

"We have two ways. If someone is leaving the village and may not come back we clasp paws and say: 'Goodbye and stay faithful'. But fiends parting for the evening usually slap each other on the back and say: 'Until next time'."

"I do not want to be slapped on the back." Or have my backside sniffed again, she added to herself. "Our goodbye for friends is the same as our greeting; we rub cheeks to carry the scent of our loved ones with us." She stood and opened her arms invitingly.

Darwin grinned and wiped pine needles from his clothes as he stood. Loved ones? He wondered if that had been just a slip of the tongue.

This time they placed their paws on each other's shoulders. They rubbed cheeks twice on each side, not too slowly but not so fast as to seem rushed either. When they were done Snowdrop took a step back.

"Goodbye, Darwin."

"Until next time, Snowdrop."

* * * * * * * *

Snowdrop carried Darwin's flowers almost as far as the village, inhaling their fragrant aroma all the way. Reluctant as she was to part with them, she could think of no excuse that would explain where they came from, so she threw then in the river before crossing over to the encampment. It was quiet tonight as most of the tribe was already at the evening meal. She decided to go to the hut she shared with Dawn to change before joining then.

To her shock she found Dawn sitting in front of the entrance to the shelter, looking worried at first and then suspicious as she spotted Snowdrop in her best robe.

"Dawn, you have returned early." Snowdrop said, a little flustered.

"My friend was sick, but not too sick, so after making sure that the local priestess was taking care of her properly I came back ... to find you gone." Dawn's eyes narrowed as she finished her statement.

"Yes ... well, like I said, I went to the forest to pick herbs and bark. But I found a grove of those mushrooms that are good for inducing spirit dreams." She added hastily, remembering what was in her sack. "They were growing by the old oak on the other side of the ridge where the black creek is." She knew that she was talking too much, so she shut her mouth and held out the sack for inspection.

Dawn spared just a glance for the sack but spent more time examining Snowdrop. She fingered the valuable lodestone pendant and harrumphed over her apprentice's choice of robe for herb gathering. When she got close she wrinkled her nose and sniffed, almost like Darwin had done earlier.

"You put on scent to go picking mushrooms?" She asked, puzzled. "And a lot of it. You smell like a rose bush!"

"I find that it keeps the small flies away." Snowdrop said lamely.

Dawn stood back and bit her lip, deep in thought. The old cat ran her eyes up and down the figure before her, that of a young feline just entering the prime of her sexuality. She shook her head sadly.

"You know, you do not have to become the priestess." Dawn said softly. "You can step down if you would prefer another kind of life. If you have found someone special then now is the time to tell me. Do not wait until I am too sick to train another before you decide whether you would prefer to be someone's mate."

"No. It is not like that. We ... I ... I will never be someone's mate." She tried to say it firmly, but a single tear escaped when she realized the ironic truth of her statement.

"Do you need me to mix some of the contraceptive potion?"

"No. There is no need for that." Snowdrop laughed harshly at the thought. "Never a need for that." She added regretfully.

"Then what do you need?" Dawn had never seen her student so tense and depressed.

"I don't need anything! Can't you just leave me alone? I just need to be alone sometimes, that's all." On that note Snowdrop pushed past Dawn and entered the hut, drawing the door closed in such a manner to indicate that she did not want to be followed.

"Don't", "Can't", "That's"? She is so stressed that she is talking just like a dog, Dawn thought. Snowdrop, what are you up to?

* * * * * * * *

Darwin made it back to the village just before the gates were closed for the night. He had hurried so much that he was dehydrated and close to fainting, so he stopped by the tavern for a beer before going home. As usual, most of the single young males, and a few older mated ones, were gathered at the bar, with an empty pitcher already in front of them.

"Darwin, little buddy! Come buy a round!" Called a large doberman, aptly named Crusher, who had never claimed to be Darwin's buddy before this. Darwin would have liked to leave, but felt that departing now may look suspicious, and he really was very thirsty. He signalled the landlord to fill the pitcher back up as he approached the group.

"Thatta boy, Darwin." The big dog put a friendly arm around the smaller beagle's neck, but he grabbed the pitcher before Darwin could pour himself one. "Don't hog that beer! Share!" Before Darwin could object the dobermann passed the jug around to his friends. It came back empty. Dejected, Darwin signaled for a pint for himself. While he waited for his beer the doberman, sniffed him over, as they were wont to do when someone new joined the group of habitual drinkers.

"Hey," he said as the landlord put a glass in front of the beagle, "have you been rolling in flowers and cat grass? You smell like a cross between Granny Dachshund's garden and that last cat we treed." The rest of the group roared at the memory of the warrior stuck up a basswood tree, surrounded by snarling guard dogs with crossbows. You could smell the fear coming off of him in waves, they claimed. He had stayed up there for three days before the dogs got bored and left.

"Naw, he's been rolling in the dirt to cover up the scent of female." Another declared after taking a good whiff. "Darwin's got a bitch!"

"Lucky dog." One called "Who is it?" Demanded another.

"Let's see." Crusher said as he slid over and sniffed Darwin from head to foot. His nose was not as sensitive as the tracker's, but he was not bad when it came to identifying substances. "Doeskin, pine, something ... musky ... one of those exotic breeds from up north? Oh, I can't tell. Susie Retriever maybe. Doesn't she help curing hides and polish all her daddy's furniture with pine oil?"

"Susie, ugh. She's got a face like a basset hound."

"Hey! What do you mean by that?" An angry basset hound pushed his way to the front of the crowd.

"Oh, calm down Charlie." Crusher pushed the hound back into the mob before turning back to the tracker. "Who is she Darwin?"

"We didn't actually ....."

"Greedy bastard, but you're right to keep your yap shut. Any bitch that would lay with you would take any one of the rest of us in a minute, and I'm so horny that's about how long it would take, the first time."

"Yeah, there's been no foxes through here for months." One of the other single dogs whined.

Most of the bar's regulars sighed in unison. The fox caravans were not only anticipated for the trade goods they bought and sold, but also for the forms of entertainment they presented. During the day one could have their fortune told by a seer or watch a magician manipulate scarves, cards and balls in entertaining ways. After dark there were games of chance that no one ever seemed to win at, exotic dancers, and in the shadows behind the stage, female companionship or another sort.

The vixens, whether they were dancing in their skimpy outfits or entertaining out back, were stunning and erotic. Many of the males in the village had sampled their company at least once in their lives, and more than a few made a night time visit to the fox camp an annual ritual. The females tended to ignore their indiscretions, because the scarlet hussies would be gone the next day and there was no fear of them returning with a half-breed child seeking support. While foxes were considered canines, they could not breed with dogs, coyotes or wolves. So the foxes came and went in peace, and the mates of offending males took their revenge in other ways.

The conversation shifted away from Darwin's possible female friend to the subject of sex in general, and with vixens in particular. Darwin had never visited the vixens. They scared him, with their sharp snouts and piercing eyes. They seemed to be able to size one up with a single glance, and judging by their expressions, always found one lacking. While the others were distracted by their memories of good times past and visions of future romps he finished his beer and backed through the crowd toward the door. When he was close to the exit he simply put his empty glass down on the nearest table, turned and stepped out the door.

He did not notice Crusher's sly eyes on him as he slipped out.

* * * * * * * *

Darwin and Snowdrop continued to meet every three of four days as the late spring gave way to early summer. Doing so required more elaborate excuses, and generated more suspicion.

Dawn, certain that whatever Snowdrop was up to would end badly, begged her apprentice to tell her what was going on, but Snowdrop maintained that she just needed time alone. The old cat could not keep up with her much younger charge and was reluctant to get others involved, so she could only guess. But she could make a fairly good guess from the way Snowdrop hummed as she preened before 'going out alone', by the trinkets she took but did not return with and the new ones she brought back. And most especially by the way she hugged and caressed the lamb and called its name when she thought that no one was watching. Still, despite the obvious origin of the lamb and the canine nature of the trinkets Snowdrop had hidden under her sleeping pad, Dawn's mind refused to make the final connection. She chose to continue to believe that Snowdrop was in love with a young male from a nearby tribe, and she wandered the woods in search of their trysting place so she could put an end to it before anyone else in the tribe found out. Others were beginning to notice the strange behaviour of the priestess and her replacement.

Darwin did not escape suspicion either, although he was under surveillance for an entirely different reason. The doberman Crusher was curious to discover who it was Darwin could be seeing, simply so they he could steal her away from the hapless beagle. It was not that the bigger dog was jealous, it was just his way. He would seduce whoever it was and dump her as soon as another came along. Maybe she would marry Darwin on the rebound, he thought. If she did he would go after her again for old times' sake. But first he had to find her, and that was proving difficult. Although he was faster than the little tracker he was nowhere near as good at following someone that did not want to be followed. Darwin knew all the tricks that the feline warriors used to throw experienced trackers of the trail, and he used them to lose Crusher every time. This just made the competitive guard dog more determined to catch him.

Despite the growing risk neither of the young creatures could bear to break it off. They still thought of themselves as just friends, both suppressing feelings too deep and confusing to confess to the other. But their greetings and goodbyes grew longer, and more intimate.

One warm, windy summer day they met outside the circle of pines and conducted their routine greeting ritual there. They still restricted themselves to two rubs per cheek, but they were slow and sensuous gestures now. And their contact was not limited to their faces; their paws had taken the habit of roaming up and down each others' flanks and backs while the greeting lasted. During the ritual they were oblivious to the world around them. A dangerous thing for illicit lovers.

"We should go inside, out of the wind." Snowdrop muttered into his ear after they had stood silently holding each other for over a minute.

"Yes." He agreed, pretending that they had not a care in the world. "Out of the wind." He reluctantly released her and turned to lead her by the paw through the sweeping pine boughs.

He realized his mistake as soon as he stepped though the living curtain and saw who was occupying their clearing. He had approached the copse from upwind, so any scent or sound warning of intruders had been carried in the opposite direction. It was the kind of mistake an amateur tracker would make, and had he not been so surprised by the sight before them he would have felt ashamed.

The two of them stood frozen, paw in paw, watching a sixteen-point buck and a doe as they rutted wildly in the centre of the clearing.

Tongue out and hips flying, the buck did not notice them at first. When it did it jumped back and reared, leaving the confused doe semi-prone on the ground. The buck stood there for an instant, until Snowdrop raised her arm across her face in alarm, then with a twisting bound it leapt through the branches to freedom. The doe, on wobbly legs, followed after him. Darwin and Snowdrop were alone one more, and too stunned to react.

Darwin finally broke the silence.

"Did you see the size of the pri... prongs, the prongs on him?" He said in amazement. "It ... they, they were huge."

"Sixteen points at least." She confirmed. "And his penis was equally impressive."

Darwin almost swallowed his tongue before he could reply.

"We see this sort of thing in the forest all the time." She confided. "Although the rutting time is usually in the autumn the occasional doe goes into heat off season. The bucks use their antlers to intimidate the other males and to attract females. The larger the better in either case. But when it comes to keeping a harem we say that it is the size of their male parts that matters." She turned to look at his stricken face. "Did you not tell me that you sometimes assist when they breed cattle and sheep? Our warriors have watched from the woods as this is done and returned with stories of the predacious size of the bulls' pen..."

"Snowdrop!" Darwin interrupted forcefully. He was sweating and trembling so much that he dropped her paw.

"What is wrong? Are you ill?"

"No, it's just ... well ... we don't talk like that ... comparing co... penises, and such. Not in mixed company at least?"

"Mixed company? You mean dogs and cats?"

"No, no! I mean males and females. That kind of talk is .... not proper."

"We talk like this amongst the tribe all the time." She shrugged. "The mated females compare their mates and tease the single young warriors. The Warriors brag about their own and belittle those of their rivals. In winter we have peeing contests. We give prizes for distance, longest flow and best picture in the snow. Now what is wrong?"

Darwin had collapsed on the grass in a fit of laughter.

"Peeing contests?" He managed between chuckles. "Best picture in the snow?" Another wave of laughter threatened to asphyxiate him. "Our males do the same thing, but we don't let the females see, probably because they are afraid of being heckled."

"Your males do it? I was describing a female contest." Darwin stared at her open mouthed but she could not hide a grin for long, and then when he realized she was joking he fell back and laughed even harder than before. This time Snowdrop joined him.

When they recovered their wits they talked about what subjects were taboo in each community. Snowdrop explained the restriction she was under as priestess in waiting, and apologised for not telling him about her role in the tribe earlier. Darwin in turn told her about the vixen prostitutes that everyone knew about but pretended not to most of the year and he confessed that the smell on him when they first met was actually urine.

"I knew already." Snowdrop admitted. "I recognized it when you went out of the grove to relieve yourself during our second meeting." She stopped and dropped her head. Darwin detected a reddening of the skin around her eyes and nose where the fur was sparse. "I ... I have to tell you. I snuck up and took a peek while you peed. I was curious to see if what the warriors said was true."

Now it was Darwin's turn to blush, but he could not help asking: "What do the warriors say?"

"That dogs have no penises, just a hole in their belly where one might be." She covered her head, afraid that he might take it as an insult. "But none of them can ever claim direct observation." She added hastily. "So it is probably just an old matron's tale."

"No." He replied. "It's true. At least, it used to be. We have medical books and old drawings in the library that show males with a sheath. The, uh, penis ... was not supposed to come out except in response to a female in heat. But now females don't go into heat, or have six breasts or give birth to ten puppies at once. Things are changing." He said thoughtfully, holding his paws up for examination. "Breeds are growing more similar. Smaller breeds are getting taller. We can manipulate more complex tools than dogs could just a few generations ago."

"It is the same with us. Felines are changing rapidly. And although the differences between our breeds was never as great as yours, when I look at you I see similarities in our changes. The way our paws are developing, the way we walk, the shape our bodies are taking."

"The way our penises dangle?" Darwin grinned and was rewarded with a smile and a laugh.

"Yours is very similar to that of our warriors," she giggled, "and nothing to be ashamed of."

"I bow to your greater experience in this matter." Darwin said while he flourished the arm he was not leaning on grandly and bowed his head. But when he looked back to her the smile faded from his face. Not because she was not smiling at him, but because of the way she was smiling at him, with her mouth slightly open to reveal her fangs and a faraway look in her eyes. That and he way she was absently plucking at the material of her robe over one breast where her nipple stood out. Darwin gulped and sat up.

She was laying just a few feet away, just out of reach, and she rolled onto on her back as he continued to observe her. She raised her paws and reached behind her to undo the cord that kept the robe closed around her shoulders. Wiggling slightly, she peeled the doeskin down to her waist like she was stripping bark from a bitch tree. With a lift of her hips, a pull and a kick, the robe was gone. As was the habit of her people, she had worn nothing underneath.

Darwin just sat there with his jaw hanging open, unable to do more than stare at her perfect body until she wrinkled her pretty black nose at him and crooked one digit twice. She continued to smile that mysterious little smile as Darwin crawled over to her side. There he loomed above her, wondering whether he should lie beside her, or on top of her, or touch her or ... then he felt a paw at his belt.

"Darwin," Snowdrop said his name in a tone that almost made his heart stop, "how do you work this buckle?"

* * * * * * * *

Crusher stumbled from the bed he was occupying, his head aching from the beer he had consumed the night before. He went to the window and peeked out from between the curtains. The street outside was a scene of pandemonium. The village bell was ringing insistently and dogs were running back and forth with spears, crossbows and pitchforks. He gathered from the shouting that the felines had made a daylight raid on the outlaying farms; a daring act previously unheard of. A posse was being formed to track them down and teach them a lesson they would not forget.

Normally Crusher would join in the fun, but he had drank quite a lot before calling on one of his regular sleeping partners and there would be other felines to chase. He was just about to rejoin the silky-furred collie in the warm bed behind him when he spied her mate, who should have been out with the flocks in the far fields, running back toward the village. Crusher decided to join the posse after all. It would make a good excuse for showing up in this part of the village half dressed. We all must answer the call, he thought wryly.

By the time he was down on the street and tucking his shirt into his pants he had a better idea of what was going on. The feline warriors had snatched several sheep just on the other side of the river as the herders lead them to the meadows. While they had a head start the livestock would slow them down and make them easy to track. The head tracker was mustering his group to start the chase while the larger canines assembled to follow. Once the felines were cornered they would move in and ... well, that would be decided when the time came.

"Darwin! Darwin Beagle!" The head tracker, another beagle and Darwin's uncle, called.

"He was not at home." One of the other trackers answered. "It looks like he left around dawn."

Crusher smiled. The beagle certainly had left at dawn; Crusher had seen him pass as he waited in the shadows for the collie's mate to leave. If he had been more sober and less horny he might have tried to follow him again. But he had a fairly good idea of where Darwin was headed. Despite the tracker's skill in covering his tracks he took the same route each time he disappeared into the forest for his mysterious meetings, and little by little Crusher had discovered the first few miles of the route. But I am still far from discovering Darwin's final destination, he mused. One would have to be an expert tracker to find it at this point.

The thought gave him an idea.

"Yo, Mordicai!" He called to Darwin's uncle. "I saw Darwin heading into the forest earlier today, probably looking for metal. But it was the same direction those damned cats went in. I'm afraid that they may run into the poor little guy when he is all alone and take him captive ... or worse."

Mordicai Beagle bit his lip in frustration. Tracking down the raiders was a priority, but he had promised his sister to keep an eye on her only son once he became a tracker like his uncle. He looked around at his assembled group and made a decision.

"Daniel, you are in charge." He pointed to a young bloodhound that had shown leadership skills. "You follow the cat's trail and lead the posse to them. I will follow Darwin's trail and warn him of the danger. If they already have him I will rejoin you. If not, the two of us will try to flank the felines and drive them back into you. Got that? Good." With that the older beagle turned away and prepared to run off after his nephew.

"Wait!" Crusher called, and the head tracker stopped and looked back, irritation evident in his expression. "Let me go with you. Darwin is my friend and I have seen where he has been going to look for metal lately. I can take you most of the way quickly and you can you can pick up the trail from there. Besides," he added, flexing his shoulders for emphasis, "You will need some muscle if the cats are closing in on him."

"You're right." The head tracker conceded. "Show me where he's gone."

Crusher led the smaller dog across the bridge and over the meadows to the spot where Darwin always entered the forest. Mordicai noted the multiple tracks leading to the entry, and the way the trail doubled back and had several false branches before it disappeared in a stony creek bed.

"He did not want anyone following him." Darwin's uncle noted. "He must have found a good cache of metal"

"He's probably ripping off a piece right now." Crusher mumbled, trying to catch his breath. "This is where he, uh, parted company with me." The big dog added in a clearer voice.

"Follow me then." The older beagle trotted first upstream then down, sniffing the rocks and examining the banks for signs of Darwin. After a few minutes he found some. "This way!"

The beagle ran through the woods sniffing, looking about and plucking bits of fur and material off of protruding branches as he went. He traveled much faster than Crusher had anticipated, and the doberman was sweating beer by the time they had covered another mile. Mordicai was able to make even better time because, having taught Darwin, he could anticipate the tricks he would use to cover his tracks. Soon the mixed softwoods gave way to ancient hard woods, and as they moved further uphill to small stands of fir and pine.

All at once they came to a meadow with a circle of sweeping pines in its centre. Mordicai paused and frowned at the multitude of diverse tracks, some old, some new, and tried to figure out what story they told.

"Deer come here often." He said as he stooped to examine the tracks and spoor that lay about. "A buck and a doe in heat earlier today. And Darwin has been here several times in the past weeks. But there are also imprints of feline moccasins, small ones, from a child maybe."

"Or a female." Crusher said with a malicious grin. This was turning out to be more fun than chasing juvenile would-be warriors

"Yes, I suppose they could be ...." Mordicai began, but before he could conclude he was interrupted by a canine voice howling in what sounded like agony. "That sounded like Darwin! What did he say?"

"I think he cried 'No! Stop!'." Crusher offered.

Suddenly the air was rent by wail that could only be a feline war cry. It definitely came from inside the circle of pines before them. Without hesitation, the two canines ran to the grove and dove through the branches

* * * * * * * *

Dawn was boiling water to make medicine and fretting over Snowdrop's latest disappearance when a young feline dashed into the encampment, panting from exertion. The tribe members present gathered around him as he tried to catch his breath. They could tell from his expression that he had important news.

"We raided their flocks." He gasped finally. "Five of us. The other four are leading the animals back. Two ewes, a fine ram and three lambs. We can start our own herd. But the dogs saw us. They are following the trail of the stolen animals. Soon they will catch up to my friends. They carry many weapons, and they are very angry."

"Go back and tell your friends to leave the animals behind." One old matron advised. "Then they can outrun the dogs. They will still be honoured for the audacity of their raid"

"They would rather die than abandon their spoils." The young cat said proudly.

"I am afraid that may indeed be their fate." The eldest son of the chief, a tall, muscular and hairy warrior named Bear Cat said. "The dogs have been looking for an excuse to attack us, and you fools have given it to them."

"My cousin, Wind Walker, one of the five, he believes that they can get the animals past the ravine before the dogs catch up." The young feline dropped to his knees in front of Bear Cat in supplication. "He suggested that with but a few warriors we could mount an ambush there." The cat fell silent, waiting.

Bear Cat considered the distances and the terrain involved and counted the warriors available.

"Run back and tell your cousin to hurry." He ordered. "We will be waiting at the edge of the ravine. Whether they catch you fools or not we will teach those dogs who really owns this forest. Off with you!" Not waiting to see if the youth obeyed, the chief's son began issuing orders to the warriors present.

"Bear Cat." Dawn interjected when he paused to consider what other preparations were needed. "Snowdrop is out in that part of the woods picking mushrooms. I know roughly where she is but I cannot get there in time alone. Can you send someone to warn her and bring her back safely?"

"I can do better than that." Bear Cat replied after she described the old oak where the mushrooms grew. "I intended to head that way to spy on their progress and intercept any that tried to flee the ambush by going down the ravine. Willow Tail and I will run ahead and find her. You follow to escort her back while we hold off any dogs that try to follow." Before Dawn could object he signaled to his companion and the two set off at a quick trot. Dawn could do nothing else but follow after as fast as her old legs would take her.

The warriors soon outpaced her. They moved through the forest with a familiar ease. They found the oak and the mushroom patch easily, but there was no sign of Snowdrop there. After looking around a bit they spied a trail with fresh moccasin tracks on it, small ones like hers. They hurried down it, afraid that the dogs must be getting near.

As the ground rose up from the ravine the soil changed from loam to sandy clay, and the vegetation gave way to grasses, firs and pines. They stopped on the edge of a meadow to examine the ground more closely but before they could read the tracks a shout filled the air.

"That sounded like a dog." Willow Tail snarled. "An angry dog."

"On the other side of those pines, you think?" Bear Cat crouched to make a smaller target in case the canine had a crossbow aimed at them. "Or inside them?"

A feline cry of pain answered his question. One of the curs must have circled around and come upon Snowdrop while she was searching for herbs. There was no telling what form of torture he was subjecting their priestess designate to. Without hesitation the two warriors leapt to their feet and charged through the canopy of needles.

* * * * * * * *

"Snowdrop!" The cry was ripped from his throat as wave after wave of pleasure so intense it was unthinkable surged through him. He had never imagined, could never imagine, that he could ever feel like this. It was so overwhelming that he froze with his hips against hers, his back arched like a bow, and just let the sensation take him.

Below him Snowdrop encouraged him to continue and so he did. In moments new warmth spread around him and she screamed "Yessss" with a wail that would rival a banshee. That was when his strength gave out and collapsed on top of her.

"Snowdrop." He whispered as his cheek came to rest against hers.

"Darwin." She moaned as she caressed his back.

"Darwin!" A familiar voice shouted from the left as someone stumbled through the pines.

"Rapist!" Someone yelled from the right as they charged out of the foliage straight for the stunned couple.

Darwin could not look around fast enough to see all of the creatures that had invaded their sanctuary. Confused, and believing that they were under attack he tried to protect Snowdrop by covering her as much as possible. But the invaders were soon on him and they dragged him off of her, pulling him in two directions.

"Give him over, evil feline!" Darwin's uncle roared, keeping a firm grip on his nephew's arm.

"He has raped our priestess, he must die!" Yelled Bear Cat as he tugged on the young beagle's legs.

A scream made Darwin look around wildly. Nearby, he saw Crusher wrestling with with a feline warrior, fighting for possession of Snowdrop's limp body. He cried out in alarm and tried to crawl toward her but with only one arm free he could get no purchase. To his relief he saw her eyes flutter. She was not dead; she had just had the wind knocked out of her.

The two struggles continued. No one was able to drop the limb they held in order to reach for a weapon for fear that they would hit one of their own in such close quarters. Frustrations rising, the elders continued their shouting match as they struggled over possession of Darwin.

"Run away with your tail between your legs cur." Bear Cat advised at full volume. "Soon my father's warriors will be here and we will take the rapist back for a proper execution."

"My nephew is not a rapist." Mordecai hurled back. "And your tribe of mangy fish eaters will soon feel the wrath of our steel."

"He is a defiler of females!"

"Your sorceress seduced him!"

"She is hardly more than a child, he is a monster"

"She's a slut!"

"He is a ..."

"STOP!" Snowdrop had managed to break free from Crusher and Willow Tail and she threw herself at the feet of the chief's son. "Stop this madness I say. Let the dog go, Bear Cat."

"But priestess, Snowdrop .... I don't understand."

"He did not rape me. He is my friend, and my lover. For my sake, let him go."

While the big cat looked down on her in astonishment and horror Mordicai seized the opportunity to jerk his nephew free. Motioning Crusher to join him they dragged Darwin kicking and screaming from the clearing. Turning toward the river as they emerged from the circle of pines they each hooked an arm through one of Darwin's and began to run, half carrying, half dragging the protesting beagle between them.

"No! We can't leave her!" Darwin protested.

"Hey, I don't blame you for wanting to bring her." Crusher said with a toothy grin. "She was one sweet piece of tail. But we have to go before her big brother or whoever that was decides to put a few arrows in our asses."

"Uncle?"

"We're as good as dead if we go back, lad."

"But ... what will they do to her?"

"I don't know." His uncle said with genuine sorrow for his nephew's loss. "But you have more important things to worry about, like getting home alive and what the village council will do with you when they find out that you may have started a war."

"War?" The thought descended on him like a black cloud. With one last glance toward the pines that hid his love from him he turned and ran into the forest with his uncle and Crusher.

* * * * * * * *

Back within the circle of trees Snowdrop lay curled in a ball at the feet of Bear Cat, crying. The chief's son stared into the distance, thinking hard about what had happened, and tried to decide what he should do now. All thoughts of the ambush had fled from his head.

"Bear Cat," Willow Tail asked in a low voice, "What shall become of her?"

The big cat sighed and looked down on the pitiful creature that, a moment ago, had been destined to hold a position of honour and great influence in the tribe.

"The law of our fathers is clear. There is only punishment for betraying the trust of the tribe: banishment."

* * * * * * * *

"Silver Tip, come out and face me."

"The old caravan leader heard the challenge from inside his wagon where he was comforting his mate, Aster. She was entering the latter stages of pregnancy and it was not going well. Star Gazer had recommended that she remain in bed as much as possible, since this was a unique case. Although Silver Tip already had many sons and daughters from three previous wives he had a special affinity for the exotic Aster and the child she bore, so he asked that she comply.

But his devotion to the young female and this late-in-life recurrence of fatherhood had become a bone of contention among some in the caravan. They were saying that he was not fit to lead anymore, and that the string of bad luck this year was proof of it. Mask was one of those, and it was he who had called Silver Tip out.

Aster looked at him fearfully but he patted her paw to reassure her and shook his head to indicate that she should not worry. Then her tucked her in, rubbed her swollen belly for good luck, and exited the wagon.

The wagons were arranged in a defensive circle, and Mask was waiting on the far side for him. The younger fox, a full generation younger than Silver Tip, stood tall and straight compared to the elderly leader's weary stoop. In one paw he held a whip. The other was resting on the hilt of his dagger. His face, always hard to read because of a band of long dark fur that obscured the upper half, was even harder to read today because he had positioned himself with the rising sun at his back.

But from the younger fox's stance and the casual way in which he held the whip Silver Tip could discern two things: that the arguing and posing stage of Mask's campaign for leadership was over, and that he already believed that he would win the ensuing duel.

Silver Tip descended the steps of his wagon wearily. He wore a loose shirt that was fastened at the wrists and a pair of tight trousers that fastened in the back, above his tail. He too carried a dagger in a sheath at his hip, but he did not bother to go back for any other weapon. Instead, he crouched at the base of his steps, gathered some of the dry sandy soil and rubbed his palms together. When he straightened up he pulled a scarf from his back pocket to wipe the sweat from his brow, wrapping the cloth several times around his left paw to do so.

"So, it has come to this?" Silver Tip call out across the open area. Between the wagons the foxes of the caravan were gathering. Amongst them was his first son, and second in command, Bright Eyes, but Silver Tip knew that his son dared not interfere.

"Yes." Mask replied. "Your lack of foresight and leadership has brought this expedition to the brink of disaster. Already we have lost several of our brethren and most of our profit. I call upon you to cede your position as leader to me, so that I can recoup those loses and bring what remains of our clan home to the winter campground."

Clever, thought Silver Tip, he knows that the most dangerous part of the journey has passed now that we have reached the foothills, and that the wolves will be anxious to buy the extra weapons I stocked this year because of the rumours of war. Their emissaries have already confirmed it. Things were bound to improve, and whether Mask was given the title of leader or won it through challenge he would reap the benefits.

If he wins the challenge. Silver Tip added to himself. The upstart was in the prime of his youth but did not have half of Silver Tip's experience in fighting, and none at all in facing a challenge. He was probably counting on me stepping down, or trying to nominate one of my loyal sons to take my place in the challenge. But Silver Tip had no intention of giving in, and none of his older sons had any more experience than Mask did. He would rather risk his life than theirs. Still, he had to make one last attempt to avoid a fight.

"I ask you to withdraw your challenge Mask. Put aside your disappointment and let us work together to profit from this trip."

"You spend too much time with that slut of a wife who won you through seduction." Mask said with real contempt. "And yet are blind to the fact that you are a cuckold, doting on a child that will prove to be of another father."

The insult brought a soft "ohhh" from the assembled foxes, who knew that the taunt would sting because of the grains of truth in it. But Silver Tip had anticipated these tactics, and he replied in kind in a voice as cold as the winter wind.

"Your mother should have drowned before you were born."

Mask screamed in anger and raised the whip as he charged across the clearing. His mother had indeed drowned when Mask was but a kit, and her loss had haunted him. He had been there by the river that day, but had been unable to save her because he had not learned to swim. His mixed feelings of love and guilt were, Silver Tip knew, his greatest weakness.

Enraged to the point where the world around him was just a red-tinged blur, Mask reared back to crack the whip where Silver Tip had been standing. If the old fox ran he would chase him down and lay into his hoary hide when he caught him. But to his surprise the caravan leader stepped into his attack and grabbed the whip high up near the handle, using the cloth wrapped around his paw to protect it and maintain his grip.

Mask soon discovered that the wily old fox was much stronger than he looked, and not as bent and frail as he had appeared in recent weeks. With one arm each locked in a struggle to control the whip he was forced to make an awkward draw of his knife with his left paw while Silver Tip drew his with his right. But Mask had practiced fighting with either arm and he managed to knock Silver Tip's dagger out of his grip and send it spinning across the clearing on the third parry. The leader was forced to grab Mask's other wrist to keep from being filleted on the next stroke.

Back and forth they swayed in the middle of the circled wagons. At one moment Silver Tip would have twisted the dagger back toward Mask, and the next it would be inching toward the old fox's throat. They traded head butts and kicks, turning away and blocking where they could, but for the most part just bearing the blows. When this was over the winner would be in almost as bad shape as the loser, but they would still be alive at least. There was no yielding now; it would be a fight to the death. The stalemate could not go on forever. Eventually one would make a mistake or their strength would give out.

Little by little it seemed that Silver Tip was tiring faster than the challenger. His breath was becoming laboured and shallow, his feet were slipping back against Mask's relentless pressure, and he was bending backwards under his opponent's height and weight advantage.

The crowd saw the old fox gather his strength for one last push, but Mask anticipated it, absorbed the blow and hit back as hard as he could, swiping his blade from side to side viciously as soon as he broke Silver Tip's hold on him. Silver Tip collapsed, which sent Mask tumbling over him, only to recover with a twisting bound that brought him back to feet face the leader. Silver Tip was on his knees, his arms wrapped around his abdomen, his eyes on his fallen dagger where it lay fifteen feet away.

The crowd held its breath. The old fox's eyes flicked from Mask to the knife and back again. A few seconds that stretched to an eternity passed, and then Sliver Tip tensed and went for the knife.

Mask had the advantage of height and a standing start. He took three steps and launched himself in an arc calculated to bring his outstretched dagger down through his rival's spine before Silver Tip could get halfway to his fallen weapon. But when his blade met nothing but solid ground the shock of the impact traveled up his arm and was reflected on his face. His body hit the ground hard, knocking the wind out of him. While he was momentarily stunned Silver Tip landed a blow to his kidney.

Mask scrambled up and looked around. Silver Tip had feinted toward the dagger, but had pulled back and away as soon as Mask had left the ground. When Mask struck the dirt the leader had been close enough to strike with his right paw, the one he had been clutching his abdomen with earlier. Mask saw bright red drops falling from the blood soaked fur of that paw and looked for the corresponding stain on Silver Tip's shirt, but there was none.

Mask looked at the leader's paw again and confirmed that there was blood there, however now he could also see a shaft of silver metal sticking up from the clenched fist. There was red on the shaft too. Absently, he put a paw to his kidney and then brought it up in front of his face. The palm was soaked red. Glancing down he saw the spreading stain above his hip.

The dagger dropped from Mask's trembling paw to lie on the ground, and a moment later he joined it there.

Silver Tip stood up and wiped the blade of a long thin stiletto on Mask's trouser leg before sliding it back into the sheath strapped to his left forearm. He examined the wound. It was a lucky blow, deep and damaging. The flow of blood had already slowed considerably, indicating that Mask's heart had stopped beating. He was beyond saving now.

He signaled wearily to his eldest son, who came running with several others to pick up the body. Bright Eyes gave his father a questioning look but Silver Tip waved him off, he did not need any assistance. Standing straighter than he had for weeks now that the most immediate threat had been removed, he brushed his fur back from his brow and walked steadily to his wagon and up the stairs. Pausing at the platform with the door half open he turned to survey the circle of foxes whose eyes were riveted on their victorious leader. There was no sign of further challenge there. Silver Tip turned with a flick of his tail and stepped into the wagon, pulling the door closed behind him.

As soon as he was out of view the old fox gasped for air and dropped to his knees. The fake and feint that allowed him to draw the stiletto unseen and use it on Mask had taken all of his remaining energy. Maintaining a facade of strength to spare until he was back safe in his wagon had almost been too much for him. Thank the gods the wagon was not farther away than it was. As it was he had to grit his teeth to keep from screaming in agony as he was stricken with cramps from shoulder to shin.

And right behind the strains of the physical exertion came the symptoms of his emotional stress. Mask had been correct about one thing; Silver Tip did dote on his wife and unborn child. He no longer had the cold clear killer instincts that had made him the most successful caravan leader of all the fox clans. He could still kill, but now he felt a pain in his heart afterwards as if it was he who was dying. Tears streamed down his face as he recalled the sight of Mask laid out and bleeding in the dirt.

"Husband." Aster called softly from the bed. "Come to me."

Aster was the only one that Silver Tip had confided his recent feelings to. Only she knew how much it hurt him to have to make decisions that resulted in lives lost, whether those of his clan or his enemies. Only she could comfort him when the stress overwhelmed him. Silver Tip shuffled up beside the bed and rested his head on the mound of her belly, encircling it protectively as she rubbed his ears and stroked his neck.

"It was bad out there." She said as she ran her claws carefully through his fur, combing his ruff and massaging the tension from his neck at the same time.

"Yes, it was bad."

"It was the same one that had argued with you after the battle with the guards and the ambush?"

"Yes, Mask."

"I have seen him looking at me with anger and contempt. Something about our betrothal bothered him deeply. His insult revealed as much. But husband, did you have to insult his mother so?"

"I needed to make him angry enough to lose control and stop thinking. It was the only way to defeat him, and that was the only sure way of doing it. Believe me, if there was any other way I would have tried it, because saying it hurt me as much as it did him."

"Why is that, husband?"

"His mother was my second wife. He is my third son by her. I loved her almost as much as I love you Aster, but she was taken from me so soon. Just like my other two wives, the first killed by coyotes before I became leader and the third taken in the flu epidemic ten years ago. I thought that I would never love again, and I am so terribly afraid that you and the baby will be taken from me too."

Silver Tip buried his head against her hip as he was wracked with silent sobs. Aster pulled him back up and laid his head between her breasts and her belly.

"We are never going to leave you." She assured him.

"Promise?"

"I promise, and so does our little miss or mister." Just at that moment the bay kicked, hard enough to make Silver Tip's snout bounce in its fleshy cradle, as if to emphasise the pledge.

"It will be a boy." Silver Tip mumbled as fatigue replaced stress. "Only a son of mine would dare to kick me in the face."