# The Northern Path

Author: Jubatian
Tags: Adventure, Fantasy, Snow, Vore (soft), Winter, north

(2016)
This was a gift story for someone on FurAffinity, a quite fun experience.
Well, hope it turned out okay, the concept was a bit difficult to cope with! :)
So I got about these:
- The creature: a pouched land-dweller with white-grey coloring.
- The story: (S)he should gulp down someone, and someone else should coax him/her to release.
Well, it is up for judgement what I could get out from it.
The Snowrunner is depicted here: https://www.sofurry.com/view/1548379
For a twist, I also threw in a Cheetaan Universe race, the Shiriats. If interested, there are a few images and details on them in my gallery.

The northern path  
  
  
  
A small tent in the middle of the wilderness against the frozen lumbering mass  
of winter. Only a slight haze of purple lingered on the southern edge of the  
horizon even though it wasn't long past noon. Martin rested on his back  
wrapped up in his sleeping bag, looking up on the canvas, weak and lost in his  
thoughts.  
  
They made it through the north, but delayed. Winter arrived upon them,  
pressing even as they steadily progressed southwest. Snow, snow, and even more  
snow was all they saw since months. They ran out of supplies. They could hunt,  
but they were past their greens with no chance to replenish. Deprivation, the  
hints of scurvy was already upon them. Terry endured it better, or it seemed  
so. He asked him to go hunting this time despite his uneasiness. He needed  
rest.  
  
Why were they going?  
  
Where were they heading?  
  
He pondered, but sometimes he felt he couldn't answer anymore. Fleeing from a  
certain demise towards a less certain one. Delaying the inevitable.  
  
There was no future there. Shortages were only growing the more common. His  
old friend he knew since settling in the town, Terry, was an engineer at the  
woodcutters. He was meant to maintain their gear and vehicles. But it seemed  
like a few years and there wasn't any reason anymore to maintain them for  
there was no fuel to run them.  
  

  And him? He was already a rogue, a poacher by then. He lost his job, ending up  
with her. Tayga, with whom they saved each other.  
  
She wasn't his wife even though it probably passed Terry's mind if they were  
indeed in such a relation. Martin never married as he never quite found his  
place. Except for one thing. He was a zookeeper. And Tayga was a huge  
snowrunner.  
  
\* \* \*  
  
These beasts were large, their shoulder rising higher than a man's head, and  
they only appeared even larger for their long but robust neck and tail. They  
were the fearsome, gruesome white shadows of the cold north with countless  
horrid stories of men caught and buried alive in their neck-pouch, to be  
consumed days later at their convenience. They were known to be very  
intelligent and even capable to show compassion, but were also regarded  
uncontrollable, unpredictable with many accidents, frequently fatal.  
  
Yet she accepted him. Maybe for they were about the same age, and she was  
alone. They were known to be solitary, but exhibited immense boredom and  
other apparent mental problems in captivity, impossible to remedy.  
  

  Direct handling of these gargantuan carnivores was generally prohibited, the  
few zoos holding them were equipped with proper locking systems to completely  
eliminate the need for it, however the town was already falling apart when  
Martin arrived. Nobody cared, and he could meticulously establish contact  
with her without being mauled.  
  
He wasn't afraid of locking himself in with her at nights. There were a few  
accidents, a few serious wounds, but he understood, and she learned to be  
gentle with him, very much seeking out for his companionship. He grew attached  
to her, not heeding when later due to the shortages her rations were cut. She  
was clearly hungry, yet managed to restrain herself. Martin could see it, he  
could see how she fights with her urge to hunt to prevent hurting him. Her  
intelligence was astounding. She was aware of herself. She deliberately drove  
Martin out of her exhibit before feeding after an accident when she mauled him  
in a frenzy. She learned to wait herself to calm down before calling him in  
again.  
  

  That was also about when Martin started poaching with Terry's consent in the  
less trodden regions of the forest. It baffled him, but he accepted, seeing he  
wasn't seeking for opportunities for himself.  
  
It didn't last for long. A few years, and the complete dismantling of the zoo  
was announced. Martin collapsed, Terry scooped him up from a pub. He spent his  
nights with Tayga who became outright dangerous. Her clock was ticking away.  
The butchery, for the carnivores, a bullet in the skull. She couldn't know,  
but she sensed Martin's turmoil.  
  
One morning they found a huge segment of the old, unmaintained exhibit  
destroyed, with neither Tayga, nor Martin anywhere near town. The latter was a  
mystery for only Tayga's traces could be observed, leading far away, past the  
northern boundary of the forest. It only made it more mysterious that two days  
later Martin's small apartment was broken in, the traces of the burglar again  
leading far north where nobody dared to follow them. These just didn't piece  
together in any sane manner.  
  

  It could have ended here, an unsolved mystery, but for Terry the thread  
continued. A month later he received a letter from Martin whom he thought  
deceased, asking for a meet by a spring on the edge of the forestry. He  
thought it a bad joke until checking for footprints around his small hut  
revealed a fresh trace heading north.  
  
Martin, in flesh and blood, was indeed there, alone, quite worn, but seemingly  
in adequate health. He refused to uncover how he ended up there, only  
admitting he was living with Tayga. After Terry got past his initial shock,  
they discussed some, agreeing in some trade of supplies, ending up mentioning  
the Shiriats, a lunacy as far as Terry was concerned, to pass north of the  
Burani Sea to reach their supposed established nation.  
  
A lunacy, maybe. But that was also a small lunacy what was going on in town,  
with the woodcutting as far as he was concerned. There was no fuel. There were  
no alternatives. If they had oxen, they wouldn't have had hay for them. And so  
they saw the most severe firewood shortage they ever had, coupled with major  
shortages of anything else fitting to fire the stoves and furnaces. Many died  
that winter due to the cold. The warmongery on the south took its toll on the  
hinterland.  
  

  Martin however lived, worn by the harshness of winter, but was still there in  
Spring, along with Tayga who was seemingly still attached to him.  
  
Terry had it enough then. There was no sanity in governance, there was nothing  
to rely upon, and he knew he could end up enrolled if he took any other path  
than the lunacy of the north towards those lands taken by the aliens he barely  
knew.  
  
They waited only until they could acquire adequate supplies and then they set  
out for it, leaving all behind.  
  
\* \* \*  
  
Terry didn't get along well with her.  
  
Hours passed. Martin laid on his back, contemplating under the canvas. He was  
weak. But he should have gone hunting. If anything happened, Tayga would have  
been there with him. But he already missed that train.  
  
He could only hope for the best.  
  
It was very late when he heard the familiar faint but heavy crunches of snow  
under the snowrunner's webbed feet as she approached the camp. He started to  
scoop himself up to welcome her, expecting to meet Terry first in the tent.  
The outside however remained silent apart from the faint breaths. Where was  
him?  
  

  For a brief moment it passed his mind whether it was a wild beast making him  
preparing his gun, but he dropped that possibility. He knew her footsteps and  
that any other of her kin wouldn't lay idle near his tent. With a bit of  
caution he stepped outside.  
  
Drops of blood along her tracks. He noticed them even before he looked up her,  
resting by the side of the tent, alone. Traces of red stained her jowls,  
running down her neck onto a very much filled pouch. Martin gazed at his  
companion bewildered for moments before realizing she at least needed medical  
attention.  
  
Seeing the task at hand, as usual, he prepared for cleaning and attending the  
wound proper. She simply wasn't like an animal even seeking for care herself,  
something very unusual and very convenient in this harsh world where she  
received injuries occasionally. It didn't appear severe so he swiftly  
rekindled their fire to boil water to somewhat sterilize some piece of cloth  
he intended to use, until then he approached her to examine.  
  
He gently stroked her which she returned with small touches of her tongue,  
then felt for her hanging jowl, the red stains to locate their source. A  
small, circular hole still oozing. A bullet.  
  

  Tayga was shot. Terry wasn't anywhere. An absolutely no mans land many dozen  
miles north of that rumored to be taken by the Shirirat. What the hell  
happened?!  
  
Her filled pouch. It dawned upon him. He immediately toned down his shock.  
Keep calm and clear. Could be the first rule of handling dangerous animals.  
"Terry, are you in there?" Movements, a muffled reply choked by a tight  
contraction. He gently stroked Tayga's neck hoping to coax her to loosen. He  
couldn't know what happened, but it was serious and Tayga was too intelligent  
to be ignored. Martin was perfectly sure she remembered and was completely  
aware of Terry being there. He had to comfort her first.  
  
First, he had to treat her wound like normal. He quickly assessed the  
immediate situation realizing the hunt succeed, her distended belly resting  
before her lazily stretched out hind legs. She was full. Her body was content,  
waiting for him to relieve her from the nuisance of her injury. There was  
time.  
  
He managed to get her loosen a bit. He urged Terry to stay idle no matter  
what, not heeding his protests which Tayga choked in him anyway by her  
agitated contractions. He continued examining her wound, realizing the bullet  
only damaged fat and some minor veins as it entered from a flat angle,  
dampened out by the soft tissue of her thick dewlap. He heated forceps  
deciding on removal. Tayga jolted but endured without any movement to harm  
him. It was out, a bullet from the small handguns they both carried. He left  
the wound open, the slight bleeding cleaning it, nothing for the gargantuan  
beast. He comforted her gently massaging, rubbing away blood stains. She  
rested her muzzle on his shoulder making him feel her pleasant warm exhales.  
  

  One long, one slightly shorter. A small fraction of every second exhale  
diverted into her filled pouch, keeping the prey alive and fresh for later,  
which unfortunate prey was his friend.  
  
\* \* \*  
  
"Stay idle, remain calm. Don't move." He commanded Terry as he managed to  
slowly coax Tayga into loosening. She was agitated but her body was pleased  
which helped, comforting her from the inside wishing to just rest, to laze, to  
slacken every muscle. He kept working on her caressing, seeing how it calmed  
her, her pouch settling limp in the snow, and he could discern its upper end  
slightly expanding and collapsing, a cycle repeating for every second breath.  
  
Terry tried to talk. He could make out the first word, but what followed died  
out by a sudden contraction. "Tayga, no. Rest, just rest. Calm. It's okay."  
He laid in the snow allowing her to lay her muzzle on his torso.  
  
He was unsure of what to do. Tayga trusted him. He probably could sneak on  
her to deliver a swift fatal shot in her skull to save Terry for the moment.  
But he loathed even the thought of that. They would die without her. She cared  
for them. She even saved them from a pack of hungry howlers, and she didn't do  
that merely by instinct. She was intelligent, a true companion, understanding  
many things better than he anticipated. She was his friend just as much as  
Terry, probably even more. He couldn't bear the though of doing such an  
insidious deed to her.  
  

  If only he was there on that hunt! But he couldn't change that.  
  
She had her own mind on the thing. He could only coax her to slacken, to laze,  
to buy some time. He had to play his role in her game if he wanted to keep  
Terry alive.  
  
It was late, she was full, and despite her uneasiness she was sleepy, her  
body, every sense of her called for a pleasant rest. She was in control and  
Martin knew she was aware of it. He remained by her side until she seemingly  
dozed off, then returned into the solitude of the tent to try to think, to  
devise something.  
  
All he could put his hopes in was her intelligence. She was aware of Terry.  
She knew well they were friends. Whatever happened, for her to return in this  
manner to him was cruel if she really intended to devour him. He hoped she  
didn't really want to do that. At least he knew she could release. But he  
really wasn't sure how they worked, whether she might forget whatever she had  
in her mind and devour him. He had to coax her to release as soon as possible.  
  
Weakness. He laid on his back staring the canvas. Death which they could evade  
until now. It could still be many hundred miles until the nearest settlement  
if there was even any.  
  

  A rustle. He forgot to zip up the tent's door. The large white head. She came  
to rest by his side, her exhales soon building up tangible warmth in the  
enclosed place despite the sizable gaps by her neck. He stroked her. He  
realized they could hardly have some peace together since the start of their  
journey, maybe except on the hunts. He dropped off the heaviest of his clothes  
as she tickled him with the tips of her tongue in a pleasant, playful manner.  
  
They gently teased each other. Her wound broke open spilling some blood, but  
Martin ceased to care apart from trying to soak it up in a single cloth,  
preventing it staining the interior. He groomed her, massaged her soft spots  
which she enjoyed in delight, almost as if she just gulped down Terry to  
safely put him aside, an obstacle between her and Martin. Occasionally she  
raised her head slightly and lashed out her tongue on the side onto the blood  
stained cloth, the taste seemingly blissful to her, oblivious of its source.  
  
She slowly dozed off laying on her side, occasionally still flicking tongue  
even in her dream, still swallowing little bits like if she had something to  
eat. Martin kept softly stroking her until reaching down to the pouch, resting  
completely slackened mostly outside of the tent.  
  

  \* \* \*  
  
"Calm. She is asleep. Are you okay? What happened?"  
  
Terry responded weakly.  
  
"Hell no! Martin! Why don't you do anything! I am dying here!"  
  
"Are you injured? Did she maul you? Pain?"  
  
"Martin, you idiot, I am inside her! She is gonna digest me!"  
  
"Damn Terry, calm down! Seriously, is there any immediate problem?"  
  
"Apart from these being my last hours if you aren't going to put her down,  
sure, no."  
  
"Terry, they don't digest in their pouch. I am here. Rest, stay calm, and she  
won't choke you either. Be patient. I will try to get you released next day."  
  
"Martin, you can't do this to me! Can you imagine what it is like to be  
here?!"  
  
"I can. I was in her before."  
  
He briefly explained, finally revealing the mystery of his disappearance from  
town. He was with Tayga that night, he wanted to be with her, but couldn't  
bear her gentle teasing trying to cheer him up. It was only days until she was  
to be killed. He pushed her muzzle aside, repeatedly. He lost control,  
something he shouldn't have done in the proximity of her, he cried out, stood  
up to yell, to curse the world.  
  

  It confused her ending up causing her to attack. She pinned him down, tore  
off some of his clothes before gulping him down. He almost panicked, but what  
followed appalled him even more.  
  
"Terry, it is one thing to be down there. I knew I was in the zoo. She wasn't  
fed since a while. I expected her to rest and devour me. But she didn't remain  
idle! I felt her immense strength as she repeatedly pranced and rammed against  
something. I knew she was attempting to demolish her exhibit! Can you imagine  
what it is like to see a disaster happening and you can't do anything to avert  
it?! Seriously, if I had any weapon, we wouldn't be here now! I felt when the  
fence gave way and I prepared for the worst. But she didn't go rampaging in  
town! A long steady march, her motions cradled me. It was peace. I didn't care  
about myself. She broke out and fled without bloodshed."  
  
Terry remained silent for a while. Then, slowly, he started.  
  
"Damn Martin... I... Just please do whatever you can without harming her. I  
didn't follow your directions. I tried to take a thigh of that elk. Hell, no,  
I mean it. I fired a warning shot... I couldn't imagine she was so swift and  
direct. She disarmed me, I was pinned before I could realize what happened. I  
drew my handgun but missed, she immediately snapped on my wrist, the coat  
dampened it, but I dropped the gun. She pulled and threw me, ripping off my  
clothes. I tried to escape using my knives, but failed. I have bruises. I had  
only my lighter when she ate me. I could light it, burning her gullet. I fell.  
She squeezed the air out of me. She constricted me until you came. Hell..."  
  

  "Shit. She still kept you alive. Your shot didn't miss... It isn't anything  
serious, but it didn't miss either. Do you have anything serious?"  
  
"I don't think so. Thirst. I am nearly pissing myself. Can I do anything to  
help my case here?"  
  
"Drink her saliva. Piss yourself. Seriously, she wouldn't notice. The pouch is  
for keeping prey fresh, it works this way, her fluids would wash things away.  
Don't stress. But she feels you inside. She knows you are there. Try to  
comfort her once she awakens."  
  
"Martin... You can't say..."  
  
"That's what you can do. I was in her for almost two days before she released  
me, and I wasn't always sure whether she remembered I was filling her. And  
then she was hungry. Now she isn't. And I am also here. But she may not  
release you solely for my sake. You have to tell her you are sorry."  
  
\* \* \*  
  
Martin laid on his back watching the canvas above. On his left rested Tayga on  
her side, her soft and warm underside facing him tempting to cuddle against in  
the cold, yet he didn't for her still unstable wound, only pushing his hand  
under her dense fur. He hoped Terry could also have some rest.  
  

  Warmth. He shivered. He realized part of him very much wanted to switch places  
with him. He was utterly scared back then. But for the body it was pleasant.  
If Tayga slackened herself, he could so much be there, enjoying that blissful  
warmth. Without the constraints of half of his mass in clothes. Without any  
clothes at all. Just to groom her on the inside, to be with her, to be almost  
part of her.  
  
Sleep conquered him floating in these thoughts. He couldn't help it. She was  
unique. Their relationship was unique. He loved Tayga, not like a human being,  
but for what she was.  
  
\* \* \*  
  
After the night at least by the clock, she was still laying there. Martin  
raised on his elbows realizing the interior of the tent was still rather  
pleasant for her warmth. He checked her jowl, feeling the area of the wound,  
seeing the blood congealed sufficiently clogging it. She was awake, just  
resting, appreciating the gentle strokes.  
  
She then pulled herself out for a huge yawning stretch outside, which Martin  
used to prepare himself for the chill. He had to devise something to get Terry  
out, then they would continue their march helped with Tayga's new energy. They  
had to. Nutritional deprivation was taking its toll on them except for her.  
  

  He started rekindling their fire out of habit, to make some tea which  
thankfully they still had before realizing he had a blocking problem to solve.  
Even Tayga herself showed the impression of being in quite a trouble.  
  
She laid upright by the tent, her filled slackened pouch resting between her  
forelegs, looking at Martin confused. The usual routine wasn't there, there  
was nobody packing up equipment preparing her harness. She however also  
appeared somewhat pleased. Martin then realized mild motions inside her,  
apparently teasing her! Terry was doing his part!  
  
That was his chance. And he got a wicked idea which he believed would do the  
trick.  
  
He approached her starting to gently work on her neck which she appreciated.  
Slowly he progressed upwards to the head, rubbing the back of her skull behind  
her ears, returning to her jaws. Lost in her sensations, she closed her eyes,  
submitting to the bliss. For minutes he didn't stress anything, just caressing  
her as usual, allowing her to drift forgetting about reality. Terry gently  
contributed from the inside still playing his role without asking. He couldn't  
know what he thought, how long he would keep up, so he concentrated on her to  
see when he could begin with his idea.  
  

  Then he started slowly moving onto the line of her mouth with occasional,  
seemingly accidental but intentional gentle strokes, teasing. She flicked  
tongue. He made sure his clothes weren't too tight so she could reach his face  
and chest. He kept on his work, when she slightly opened, even briefly  
thrusting his hand in. He directed her snout towards his face to lean against  
its tip, pushing his fingers in the soft underside as he softly grabbed on her  
lower jaws.  
  
If he didn't know her, he would have thought it sheer lunacy. Yet he did it.  
He tried to coax her into eating him, however it would work out. He slowly  
slid his face lower on her nose, feeling her tongue touching his chest and  
chin. Then it happened. The mouth opened to gently lock on his upper torso  
and a moment later his head was in her throat. He let himself lean against  
her, his fingers still digging in her furry folds on the underside, still  
massaging her. But she stopped.  
  
All of sudden she raised almost leaving Martin tipping over. He could see her  
utter confusion, occasionally sharing a glance with him, an occasional flick  
of the tongue, totally clueless. Then, just as sudden, she turned away, stood  
up and retched.  
  

  \* \* \*  
  
They packed up in silence.  
  
Even Tayga remained silent accepting strokes but without showing much emotion.  
  
Tricked? Betrayed? Martin couldn't know, he couldn't decide. For now he could  
save them. He resolved to never let Terry go hunting with her no matter how  
sick he was.  
  
They ambled through the dead forest without a word. The few deciduous trees  
they could spot were good signs. They were leaving the worst of the north, but  
it was winter and they couldn't know how far they would have to go until they  
reached any inhabited place. They didn't even see footprints of men since many  
months. Despite the screwed up hunt, they still had some meat from an earlier  
one which they decided to ration until Tayga made another hunt necessary.  
  
The routine returned. Late, judged rather by their mental clock than the  
nonexistent daylight they set up camp, made their roast, conversed a bit  
mostly avoiding what happened on the hunt, then put themselves aside for the  
night. The morning the fire was rekindled for some tea while they packed up,  
and they were on the go again.  
  

  Terry, apart from avoiding Tayga even more than before remained normal, at  
least normal for a tired weary traveler of the north. Martin showed faint  
symptoms of scurvy, weakness, yet he trudged on. He tried to dismiss the  
slight changes in Tayga's attitude.  
  
On the surface she didn't appear much different to what they knew before. She  
even seemed to show more compassion towards Martin than usual but that rather  
began with his worsening weakness. On occasions however she passed a glance,  
an eerie spark, a slight tongue flick towards him, so subtle he wasn't even  
sure whether he was only hallucinating them.  
  
He wished to have some time with her alone, just to comfort her, still  
worrying whether the events upset her in some manner, but he could neither  
just leave Terry. At least not until the next hunt.  
  
\* \* \*  
  
He could barely stand straight after the day's march by then.  
  
Hunt. He had to go. Terry could spend all the time resting in the tent, and he  
had to be on the move so they progressed.  
  
Tayga was gentle. At least she was gentle and allowed him to lay on her back.  
He left it to her just holding onto her fur. She didn't yet make her own kill,  
but could certainly find prey fitting her, and the more often, it was her who  
signaled the presence of something worthy.  
  

  Hours passed with her steadily trotting through the wilderness. They were  
snowrunners for a reason. When hunting for large game, they could just keep  
their modest pace, their repeated assaults until their prey collapsed. Before  
noon she was clearly on the trail of something and it wasn't long until she  
could approach it. A tundra elk, a good fill for her stomach, probably enough  
so she would share. As soon as she was sufficiently near, Martin halted her,  
armed his gun and shot.  
  
She knew it well, not even jolting for the thunder despite the accidents with  
Terry. It was Martin with her and it was just part of their hunt.  
  
Martin was cautious to let her approach, staying back as she fed lest he  
should remind her anything from before. It was indeed a good fill and he was  
delighted to see her leaving a thigh untouched, not even gulping it down into  
her pouch like she occasionally did with food she shared just like if they  
were her cubs.  
  
She rested by the remnants, licking her chops for a while, swallowing, letting  
her pouch notably slacken and contract a few times. It started to become  
unusual. Then again that eerie glance. She turned towards Martin.  
  

  He understood.  
  
She remembered and expected him. He could only hope she didn't mean it by its  
full weight. But she still was his friend, and he, probably unintentionally,  
made a promise to her.  
  
He put down his weapons, then his coat as well. He would bear the cold, it  
wouldn't be long anyway. He approached and set his palm on her jaw stroking  
it. She didn't start right away. She rested her muzzle on her shoulder,  
allowing him to groom her, the soft furry underside of her neck, the thick  
folds. He felt her exhales, her pleasant warmth which was about to engulf him.  
  
Slowly she pulled back, offering him her jaws, the thick jowls. Martin kept  
massaging her, digging his fingers in her features. He knew his part. Little  
by little he approached the line of her mouth, his caressing returned by  
gentle flicks of her tongue. He removed his shirts to let her access him, and  
very soon she covered his back from the cold by the warm confines of her  
mouth. He let his trousers drop off, keeping on grooming her dewlap until she  
started her swallows.  
  

  He felt himself rising from the ground, his bare shin and feet still outside,  
exposed to the bitter cold, but her gently massaging muscles pulled him in  
soon, as if even she was aware of his weakness against the chill. It was a  
bliss when he could finally pull his legs in and she closed her mouth.  
  
Warmth. The ripple of her muscles, the gullet. He remembered from before. Now  
he wasn't scared. He wasn't sure if she would ever let him out, but trusted  
her and dismissed those thoughts. He didn't want to think about those.  
  
It was a welcoming surprise as he slid to rest in her pouch. She didn't  
contract at all. He could feel himself settling to sit between her forelegs as  
the confines gently curled him up, his feet against her clavicles, the knees  
pressing on her neck, and there was an ample pocket of warm air in front of  
him. The monotonous thuds of her heart were the only sound he heard. He  
reached out to rub the walls, to feel her flesh beyond, to continue caressing  
her from the inside.  
  
She moved to lay on her side, gently rocking Martin. It was a blissful  
position. He stretched his limbs, pushing against her features before coming  
to rest on his side, facing her, small motions, rubbing her with his feet and  
hands which he believed she enjoyed.  
  

  If he could just stay there! The harsh outside, the chill winter felt so  
distant! Soft thuds, warmth, silence, serenity, peace. Her saliva like a sea  
of origins engulfing him. She was so calm! He knew she fell asleep, her  
entire being slackened in the soft pillow of snow, he could so envy her to be  
able to live in this world! But he was part of her. He felt she protected her.  
He felt safe.  
  
He drifted away to the land of dreams along with her.  
  
\* \* \*  
  
Sudden crass motions shook him awake. She contracted over him. He scared  
before realizing she stood, retching, pushing him out. But why so soon and so  
abruptly?!  
  
He plopped off onto the unwelcoming cold snow, all soggy. She immediately  
curled around him protectively, pushing him against the loose folds covering  
her pouch which contained him mere moments before. Having nothing better, he  
wriggled and rubbed himself against her fur.  
  
Then he noticed.  
  
An odd pair of creatures were approaching, a rider and his steed, a slender  
red furred being on the back of his yellow, black striped companion, both  
sharing a doglike visage with characteristic large pointed ears. Shiriats,  
or at least the rider was one of them.  
  

  Embarrassment. He tried to fish out his clothes from under the massive bulk of  
the snowrunner. To meet the alien race they wanted to flee to in a single  
soggy garment, his underpants in the middle of this snow covered wilderness  
was something he wouldn't ever expect to happen. The mental image formed in  
his head as he stood there, shivering, covering himself with nothing but his  
vast companion's folds as he tried to explain! Utter ridicule! Yet he was up  
to his ears in it!  
  
"Er, Hello. E'erything okay?"  
  
The Shiriat spoke as he descended, an unusual accent, but understandable.  
Martin was still in shock, unable to answer.  
  
"Sorry, guess ee interrutted you here in sonthing. Ee 'atched and thought  
you 'ere in danger."  
  
Martin was fighting with his clothes and his shivering to be able to come off  
from his companion's cover. He noticed the yellow beast's interest in Tayga,  
clearly looking and making slight movements towards her until she recoiled. It  
was much smaller than her, but unusual and certainly more agile than her in  
need.  
  

  "Eh, no, totally no! We are companions!... We are seeking refuge."  
  
The Shiriat studied them intently for a few moments while his steed  
continued its attempts in approaching Tayga. It was merely a few dozen yards  
away, and she started to show interest on her own as it sat on its haunches,  
leaving its long tail spreading away towards her, limp except for its tip, a  
fluffy tuft gently waving back and forth. The Shiriat emitted a seemingly  
unintelligible chirp which it promptly retorted with a similar sound and a  
frown.  
  
"Er, 'orgiee her interest. You're 'elcone is you can earn your stay. She's a  
good haul."  
  
He clearly referred to the snowrunner who crawled a bit forth towards the  
yellow beast, just flicking out her tongue towards her teasing tuft. Martin,  
finally standing firm, sternly responded.  
  
"No. She is free and she stays so."  
  
"Nay, I say it's sor 'oth o' you together is she is 'illing to do. Ee need  
strenght at the logging, and she has 'tlenty to earn 'oth o' your 'tlaces."  
  
"You mean it's a job offer?"  
  
"Sort o'. You join a connune led ay shiriat, cyat, hunan, you choose, all  
'elcone her strength. Er, I 'ay suggest us, hunan sreak out o' this quirk o'  
yours. Ee knou, it 'tasses at us okay."  
  

  Suddenly he emitted that chirp again, just as Tayga and the yellow beast  
nuzzled over her tuft. She turned briefly aside for a retort, and ceased to  
care about him as they continued. Martin stepped by her side to stroke her  
for which she broke contact to settle by him, ignoring the playful Shiriat  
steed's last tickle with her tail as she stood up to return to her companion,  
gently nipping on his ear among with a faint chirp.  
  
"Er, guess it already 'tasses all too 'ell at her. She'd enjoy getting to  
knou her."  
  
Martin felt confused, the sleep within Tayga still not clearing up entirely  
from his mind, still shocked by the sudden impulse of meeting the Shiriat. He  
however knew he didn't have many options as they fled especially to their  
land.  
  
"Okay, we will go with you. I have a human friend in our camp whom we must  
pick up. How far we are? We are dieing for some proper food."  
  
The Shiriat shortly asked him to stay hopping on his yellow steed, poking a  
bit around in a bag on her harness for a small box of which he pulled off a  
long antenna. He stood on her back, and she slowly started pacing around,  
sharing chirps until apparently they found sufficient reception on a nearby  
mound. He chirped into the box, oddly similar to that he used to communicate  
with his steed, making Martin wonder whether even she actually spoke some  
variant of their apparent language.  
  

  "I got it arranged. Ee 'tick your sriend ut today and head south till late.  
Next noon a train 'ill 'ait us at the end o' our northern logging line."  
  
So it was. Seeing the Shiriat on the back of his companion, Tayga naturally  
followed, allowing Martin on herself just like she did earlier that day.  
They started a swift but pleasant place following the snowrunner's earlier  
track towards Terry, keeping side by side, the two large girls.  
  
The Shiriat's unusually accented words faded over the snow covered wilderness  
as they passed away.  
  
"Just thirty niles, good dinner in the e'ening, rest in 'tleasant 'eds... Er,  
I guess you 'ont need any 'eds..."

Source: https://sofurry.com/s/Rm00YkRm