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The Fox Returns

So the Fox? The Fox, went out and he got a job for himself, he did; working for a local book shop -- one that might be near enough to the house for comfortable walking. And them as owned it-- they liked his working. He were trusty, the Fox, he was. Oh, and he were smart, too, that one -- yes. I could hold that he were near as smart as he were handsome without fear of contrary evidence bein' supplied. And for all he was that smart, he was a good friend to me as well. He were working at the bookshop, and taking care of the books, and telling' furrsons where the books were that they wanted, and what other books they wanted to read if the one they wanted wasn't there, or nothing. Should they want more of a subject, but didn't know what book to get, he'd tell 'em what books were speculation, and which ones had real research behind them, see? He were that smart!

And so with 'im workin' and me workin' and us both spending a outsized portion of time at the house together -- of course we would start to either grate the nerve of the other or else we would pull tighter together. And that was a happier solution, as Tim called it; doing more together, laughing together as brothers, without what rancor one might find normally, as with close-kin who fight so often about money and the like. There were so many things that Tim felt to show me, plays and singing, and sometimes him reading to me before parting for the night. And to counter, I felt to take him to movies that we might both like, or for a picnic, or boating: punting or poling about the creeks or Harmsmuth harbour. And naturally, the parts of our personalities that sparked or caught or rubbed into harsh words, you know -- frictions that occur in close living ,seemed to fall away and vanish as I came more and more to treasure his company, and he to trust me not to hurt him. Sitting at a Cafe, or dressing up fine for dining out, I would learn new jokes just to see him smile at me. I was so happy, and so he seemed, too.

An' it was all goin' very fine, an'nen one afternoon about time for us heading for work up he comes up to me. Him standing close like, all worried and acting like he were nervous. See? He pauses for looking me right in the eyes and then says, "I'm closing the store tonight. If you wouldn't mind, could you come by the store when you come in from the docks? You needn't come into the store, as we lock up, that's not allowed but if you'd wait for me somewhere where I could see you when I locked the door, we could go home together, ... It's important to me, if you can." I thought that was funny -- nie-on suspicious, him closing so often and it being no trouble for him. So, even if I thought it peculiar I didn't say nothing about it, but gave him a, "Sure, Tim. I'll do that for you." And he flashed me that beautiful smile of his what always made me feel so odd, inside. Not that it made me feel bad, nor good, -- just unsettled. Why, if he smiled like that, I would smile even if I didn't feel like it. Agreeing to do that and wait for him -- I smiled -- he looked relieved, and he relaxed then. Him what were always so happy!

So off to work I go, and and had an evening working hard, then later, me shift done -- as we had finished the boat early -- I got to the bookshop with enough time left as to not have hurried at all. And Tim seeing I'm there sticks his maul out the door and says, "Oh, great! We'll be closing in twenty, if you could wait across the street, ... is that alright?" I said, "Sure, Tim, any way you have it arranged." And I sat on the bench in front of the store reading a paper. Well, when the store calls time for the patrons and Tim has everyone herded out and the door latched, he waves to me and I to him, and I move across the street to the other side to wait till the doors bolts are thrown and the alarms are set, see? Well, I had nowt to do but read the paper, I had a copy of the Daily Mirror tucked under me arm what he'd bought me, and in reading it the time kinda got away from me. I was deep into it, reading the news when I hear a shout and a cry of pain. And Dear Spirits of Vengeance, there -- across the street -- there is me Fox, Tim, kneeling on the sidewalk, getting beat down by a fancy tiger! Fists, claws, boots, I mean this tiger is just whaling-on him without let up! I thought my heart would stop in me chest!! I was never so scared! Tim's not a big fellow, maybe eight stone heavy, maybe nine stone with his clothes wet an' holding a change of shoes. And the tiger, a big fellow of maybe sixteen stone -- maybe eighteen stone, was just hammering on him! I jumped across the street, and I shouted something and he picks up Tim in one paw, and backhands him across the muzzle with his other, and he had the nerve to say to me, "Stay out this, you! You have no truck in this!" And he grinned as he shoved Tim, hard against the wall then let him drop onto the sidewalk. And I remember giving voice to my panic in the way a cornered bull does: roaring from despair and from fear.

And the next I remember from it, is me looking at the tiger; me standing at his feet - and him lying face down on the sidewalk but decked out cold. He's just layin' there, onto the cold sidewalk not moving, not nothing, nor moaning, even. And I remember hearin' Tim, crying -- calling my name, and Tim - brave lad that he is - gets to his hands and knees and he was crying and coughing and dripping blood at once. He was tore-up pretty good, clawed and battered, bruised and all, and he was calling my name. I shouted, "Tim, I'm here, I'm here, I'm here," and I picked him up -- careful as might be, and he just kept sobbing and coughing, telling me over and over, saying, "That is him! That is him!" And I asked, "Who?" He said, "The tiger. The one who beat me up, before." Well I weren't no more good. If wroth were a good word for how angry I was last time for carrying Tim to the clinic to patch his ribs, this were far beyond wroth or mad, this -- this was Bull Rage. I heard a moan from the tiger, and I set down Tim to sit on the sidewalk, and I bent and dragged the tiger up by one arm. And he were coming 'round towards awake by this time. I grabbed his shirt front in me hoof, and I slammed the tiger against the wall, hard enough to rattle his brain cell. Enough to hear the air whuofff out of him, I did. And when finally he opened his eyes, big and round and afraid, -- I asked him, "Can you hear me?" And he only nodded, and when he nodded, I nodded back and said, "Don't you ever, ever, ever, be seen by this fox, ever, again. Never, ever be seen by me, again. Or each day you will be so very full of sorrow, ... if the hospital can put together enough from what is left of you, for you to regret it." And I picked him up all the way high over me head, and I just dropped him onto the sidewalk, ... and voiced my general opinion of him with a kick into his ribs using me hoof. I bent over to see to Tim, and he reached out to put his arms about me neck, reaching as far he could reach, and I saw him shaking and he seemed in no small distress. Oh, so carefully, I picked him up and cradled him into me arms. Sobbing, he was, and wrapped one paw around me neck and twisted one paw into me shirt, and held on to me so tight, -- burying his muzzle into my neck. He just mumbled, "Thank you, Kevin" like it was the end of a sentence, or something. I asked, "Casualty?" He shook his head no, no doctors, no police. The anger 'aving left me, I felt somewhat let down. So I looked about for a place to settle, for if we weren't going to the clinic I'd not hold him while standing for all the night. So maybe to a chair or bench nearby... By then the Peelers had come up, and wanted to have a minute of small talk with Tim and me.

And Tim? Tim, 'e weren't nothing but a wounded mass: with a shiner for one eye and the other eye swollt shut, cuts or bruises everywhere, and a tooth loosened. The peelers bid us do our justice by them, and done, then they did their justice by us, and saw us to the house. I gave Tim some ice packs and carried him up the stairs to the bath. And he were still shaking and crying, my Tim, as I helped him out of his clothes -- OWwww, he weren't going to work for a day or two, for what I saw. And him still crying as I bathed him. And the sound of it tearing at me heart, for his pain. But I patched him best I could. And I tried a small brandy to him for steadying his nerves, and it calmed him a little bit. For he had stopped his crying by the bell's two o'clock sounding. I had him bundled into his bed, but he were still a mess, shaking or trembling yet.

Nor would he be let alone for the night, every time I would up to leave, he'd just mumble and hold on, clinging to me shirt tighter still. By half-three I was resigned to stuffing his pillows behind my back, and sitting atop the bed to let Tim curl up, sitting in my lap -- his head on my chest, to sleep, ... It being my only method by which I calmed his shivering. And truth be told, I might have had a bit of a rough time, keeping him asleep, for I was suddenly taken with a small bit of trouble with me eyes leaking, just a bit, and a runny nose every time I thought about him. With me arms wrapped about his shoulders -- him curled in me lap --we stayed so til dawn's light. But I made the breakfast for him and brought it to bed for him that day, so uncertain of his footing was he.

He had some compensation time coming to him for his working hours and his closing duties and all that. And to take advantage of that, and after talking about it we thought perhaps we would vacation to the seaside, with an eye toward getting out of Harmsmuth for a while.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

So we went off to the seaside, to Southbourne, and he were of a different mein, then. He'd changed, did my Fox. With what ever happened of him that night with the tiger, he were now a different fox. We'd opted to share one room to save our sovereigns, our being so much at ease with each other. I had especially been more at ease than usual with Tim, he not seeming so awkward around me, since the last bath I gave him. It had not been long, we'd been there at the seaside a pair of days, maybe three, most, when after lunch, we were laying there on the sand in the sun, at our leisure. With me baking and basking with the hot afternoon sunshine, loving being warm, and Tim alternating between dampening and then drying his fur. Both of us enjoying the lack of excitement, and the quiet.

And while I was flat on the warm sand, near sacked out and happy, basking with me eyes closed -- my Fox comes up out of the water by me, and having dried himself in the MOST annoying way possible, settles onto his beach-blanket, and arranges himself as if for a nap. And after some moments of companionable silence, of a sudden he asks me a question! "Kevin?" "Yeah?" "Er, ... um, -- How come you haven't a wife?"

I had to stop on that, it was a question complicated to answer. Laying there, with me eyes closed, taking a deep breath, I made as good start as I thought I could, to answer him. "Well, you know how it was; on account of me sister Crossing the Bridge, see? And then on top of that me Mum Crossing, and then me Da' and all that went with that. There was never a time my family wasn't very close, we were very close-knit - all of us, while growing up. And we took very good care of each other; if one were sick or hurt, or hungry, we cared for the other and were looked after, in our turn. Well, there was all of us to take care of -- when the sickness came -- and after it there was no one left here with me, I won't lie to you -- it was hard. They each died so close on the next -- all three of them inside two and a half years. I was all alone then, so sudden, like. "I ended up making all the arrangements, and then started taking care of the house, and after all the Crossing Ceremonies, and then later the First Year Honoring Ceremonies, I never got around to finding someone - anyone, to step out with, none that I fancied. Still less, anyone to be my mate, and, -- well, see? "It never seemed to get to the top of me list of stuff needed doing. And then if truth be told to you, I didn't find any cows I fancied. The odd kine are pretty to look at and all that, ... you know how it is, -- and how they dress is really nice. But they didn't do anything for me, you know? To make me need to be with one, ..." And here, me voice got more than a bit tight: "Aaand, ... And, er, ... well, Tim, -- me, being a bull -well -- Tim, telling the truth! Who would want to have me? Tim! ...Really!" It hurt to say it. Without moving, I turned me head in the sand just enough and opened one eye, a crack, to look at him. And the Fox, he had his eyes closed, and his head back down onto the sand, and all he said about it was, "Hunh!" I didn't think anymore about his question, after that, you know? I mean, it put me very far out of my ease to say that out loud, though it was mostly the truth, just as I told it.

About a half hour later about, I suppose -- I weren't keeping track of the time, he starts in again. He says to me, "Kevin, do you like me?"

"Hunh!" It was my turn to grunt. Stupid question! -- I didn't know how to say to him what I was feeling; to Tim I wouldn't speak a lie -- not to him for whom I felt so much so strongly. But could I say to him what might be even more the truth? I thought about it, it seemed so odd a thing for him to ask me. In a panic at being out of my depth, I was thinking to me self, "Dear Forest Master - Though I feel near drowning of me own thoughts and feelings, keep me from being lost here!" So, I sat up leaning back on my arms, to look over to him on his blanket -- his fur so bright in the warm sunlight, his eyes deeper greener than the sea, a smile brighter than the sky. What might he be playing at? What a question to be asked! -- And although plenty I might say came into mind, I confess I bit me lip -- and bit down hard, to stop from saying something that might be careless or thoughtless while I worked at what I might offer him for an answer . He seemed in earnest asking it, though. So after considering about me options, and figuring the best option might be only the plain truth -- but polite-like; giving a sigh - I answered him. -- Though it made me face hot and a hitch in me voice to say it: "Oh, Tim! What a question to ask! I ... Yes! I do -- I like you right fine, I do. You're practically the only friend I've got, what's not from work and ... And you mean so much to me. And, I ..."

Not knowing what more to venture to say nor how, I ventured to say no more; I just sat there lookin' at him, biting me lip and feeling my heart hammering so hard in me chest. And after waiting for me, then he nods to me. He lays back then, not looking at me, but laying on his back in the sand, so handsome, with his eyes closed, like I had been, before, see? Then, a moment later softly he says to me, "I like you as well, Kevin. I like you very well, indeed."

And not knowing what to say to that, I didn't say nothing. But I was not comfortable enough to lay back down. I was unsettled a bit, afraid. This silence began to wearing on my nerves a bit, it was like having one slice of bread, you know? -- One slice is only half a sandwich, and not barely that without more for it. So I thought about asking him somethin', but since I could not think of a thing to ask, I just said, "Good, that's to the good. I think you and I could be right fine mates for each other." And upon hearing that, of a sudden he rolls up onto his side, startled like, and opens his soft green eyes, and he looks right at me and in a flat voice states plainly, "You mean 'Mates' in the way one says 'blokes', don't you?" And he just keeps looking into my eyes, and looking, -- like he could see inside me - into my brain. And I started to fear maybe he could. And my breath caught in my throat -- Not like I was scared, 'cause I wasn't, -- only -- only, I could just not think what to say, so I nodded, and he just kept looking at me, just staring into me eyes, and I felt me face got all hot, and again me breath got short. Finally, it stopped with me landing hard onto the idea that maybe he meant it could mean something else! Cause I wasn't Queer! Was I? And I blushed to think of it and my breath caught again, in my throat and I let it out. Trying to calm me self. I never looked at another male, but the Fox, and only on him being so handsome to me.

He stopped staring at me and with quiet voice, he looked down toward his feet as if uncertain, and then asked plain, "Have you thought perhaps we might become closer than just friends?"

I thought maybe me heart had stopped! I noticed that I was not breathing, I was holding me breath in. So I let it out and took another breath-- although it wasn't easy breathing. I opened me mouth to speak to him, and I couldn't get anything to come out! Nothin'! Me mouth was moving, like I had cud in it, but I weren't saying nothing, -- at all. So to forestall my frustration I quit then, and just nodded to him. That might have summed me thoughts.

Yet I tried again, "Yeah," was all I managed to squeak out.

"Kevin," and he looked back at me, and said, "Having thought that perhaps we -- ahh? ... Would? -- ... Kevin, would your feelings be hurt if I told you I loved you?" And now my mouth suddenly so dry as would not talk; and my stomach dropped out, and me heart felt squeezed and it about popped. And I took another breath, and I must confess ... for being the truth, it wasn't a smooth one, it caught ragged in me throat, too. Me stomach felt as tight as a wet knot, and it hurt so, and it was so hard to find air to breath, and I didn't dare hoping to know what he was meaning. And me tongue so dry as would not speak; and I chewed on it to wet it to say, but only managed to squeak out, "I'd be O.K. with' at." He put his paw over top me hoof, and said, "You know how sometimes one feels something, and there's none to share that with, except for someone you love? Or one has certain urges, and there's none else you care to share them with, except with someone you truly love? I want you to understand; except for you, there is no one for me, there are none I love like that." I nodded, again. My heart was confused but I managed, "Oh, Tim! Tim! What are you saying? Tim, to be clear: are you asking to be my mate?" And he squeezed his eyes tight shut, and suddenly he opened his eyes, and his muzzle, and then he nodded and said just, "Yes". I smiled, and he took my hoof in his paws, and squeezed and looked up at me.

I managed to sound a, "Oh! Tim. Wouldn't that be fine?" Before me throat got so tight as would not speak.

And his eyes, if sparkling before, now looked like he was fighting something, and he opened his muzzle, and then he shut it, and just nodded once - a short sharp nod.

I was no more good, I could hear that sound, you know the one? -- My blood pumping in my ears so hard, the roaring.. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to think what to say, what to do. A shadow crossed me, as the sun was blocked, and I felt a hand on the side of my head, stroking my cheek. I looked up to see the sun behind him -with each tip of each hair- of his back-lit bright by the sun. Tim. My Fox! Oh, he was so handsome!

My heart was starting to find a new footing then, looking up at him, I saw such beauty, such gentleness, and I felt such a heat in my face, that it must have been the sun baking him. I knew what must happen then. And as desperately as I wished to run away from all that I was feeling -- I got up on my feet. And standing my ground to be with him -- to him I offered my troth, pledging it with all my soul and will. My full heart, so full and lacking nothing, wanting nothing, -- only missing his to be complete, I asked of him his troth and he pledged it me.

And so we set a date, and were hand-fasted and married.

And so you see us, here, as we are, Tim and Kevin. To this day, our joy together is so great as may not be compassed by the mortal mind. And when asked, he's only a little shy to tell you so, ... -- "Isn't that right, Tim?"