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Note: There is a special character that cannot appear in SoFurry's publisher, so the O (space) Riain is the best I can do.

Shadows in the Gully

by Mog Moogle

The mink adjusted the strap of his knapsack while he stood on the rock overhang. Below him stretched the frontier with brooks in the hollows and broad leaf forests on the foothills. He closed his eyes as the breeze rustled exposed fur outside of his hunting frock and under his felt hat. His arm cradled a fishtail musket with a flintlock, the jaws wrapped in a cloth to keep the sharp stone dry. As he was drawing a deep breath through his nostrils, the air was suddenly forced out of him with a sharp clap on his back.

"O Riain!" the voice called behind him as he scrambled to keep his footing.

"Jesus, Mary..." The mink turned on the voice. "For the love, Cokker. Ya damn near had me tumblin' in the gully." The mink spoke with an ingrained Irish accent dulled by the colonial frontier.

Behind him was an albino otter, dressed in a cravat and waistcoat clashing sharply with a rough linen overcoat and breeches. He had a surveyors compass over his right shoulder as he leaned forward and looked off the overhang. "Quite a tumble it would have been." His accent was smooth, but it betrayed his early life around the English aristocracy. His pink eyes looked back at the mink. "So how are we crossing this...gully, fellow?"

"Down this side and up the other," O Riain said as he traced down and then back up with his paw.

"With this on my back?" Cokker hefted the compass off his shoulder and shook his head. "I hired you to scout a trail on this tract that didn't involve climbing up and down mountains."

"Sure," O Riain said and laughed. "And as soon as I call the Almighty and have him brought the gully together, we'll be on our way."

"I sure in blazes didn't hire you for your charming wit." Cokker looked around and then across the expanse. "I can set up on the other side, use this rock for my reference point. But we have to get there."

"The descent'll be less steep down the left here." The mink shuffled down a slope on the rock to the loose earth, holding a sapling with his free paw as he stepped off the rock.

"You really expect me to do that with one paw while I carry this thing in the other?"

"Why not?" O Riain said as he looked up at the otter. "I'm doin' the same." The mink bounced his cradled hold of his musket.

"You weasels are a lot better at climbing than otters."

"Here now!" O Riain's tone was indignant. "I don't go 'round insulting your ma, so don't go 'round insulting me and mine."

Cokker laughed then shook his head. "No offense lad, but you really expect me to lug this compass down and up such steep inclines?"

"Well pass it to me, then." The mink rolled his eyes. "After all, I've only got me musket, powder horn, two water skins, and me knapsack with bedrolls and vittles for two. Can't have ya weighted by more than a little sack with a chain in it, can we?" O Riain wrapped a free paw around a sapling to steady himself while he turned away from the otter and started his descent.

"Careful my good fellow," Cokker said as he eased off the rock. "Your charming wit is showing again."

The incline was not as steep as the otter's bellyaching implied, but the mink was more sure of foot. Near the bottom where the slope began to level, the otter lost his footing when a branch he'd grasped for stability gave way. As he started to fall forward, one of his legs slid out from under him and he landed on his rear.

He slid on the seat of his breeches dragging his tail for three yards, quickly catching up to the mink who had turned around just in time for the otter to barrel into him. O Riain toppled on top of the otter, causing his musket to pirouette in the air for a few seconds before the lock slammed down on a mossy stone.

They came to rest two yards later, the mink sprawled on the otter. Cokker's left leg tucked up under him at an uncomfortable angle. Through it all, the otter had kept his compass off the ground.

"Blood of the Saints," O Riain said, and all he got in response from Cokker was a groan. "Ya've all the grace of an Englishman, sure." The mink saw the otter open his eyes and blink several times. They were muzzle-to-muzzle and he could feel Cokker's broad whiskers brush his own. His pink nose and broad white muzzle touched his for the briefest of moments. His heart started beating faster and he felt his ears heat.

The otter cleared his throat then leaned his head away from the mink. "You mind getting off me, fellow?"

O Riain blinked and quickly put his paws on the ground beside Cokker and lifted himself off. "Sorry," he said as he was coming to his feet. "Ya took a hard fall. Y'all right?"

Cokker moved his leg from under him but winced when he straightened it. He looked up at the mink. "Scrapes and bruises, I think." He extended his paw toward the mink. "Help me up?"

O Riain grasped the otter's paw and hefted him. When Cokker was mostly up on the unlevel ground, he gingerly put weight on his left foot. The otter cried out and O Riain wrapped his arms around the otter to keep him from collapsing. The mink leaned him against the trunk of a maple. Before he eased back from the otter, he caught himself inhaling the scent of his chest while his muzzle brushed his cravat.

The otter's scent filled his nostrils. When he felt the heat return to his ears, he hastened his release.

"Is it bad, fellow?" the otter asked, and it pulled the mink's attention to his eyes. "The ankle," he qualified. "I know what poor Achilles must have felt."

"Can't say for sure," the mink explained as he looked down at the otter's foot. "Ya got no bones sticking out, so it's like as not. I have to feel to be sure." O Riain looked back up at the otter.

Cokker drew in a deep breath, closed his eyes, then nodded his head. "Do try and be delicate, if you would."

The mink gave him a nod then knelt to his foot. He wrapped his paws around the stocking below his garter and slowly kneaded his leg. His muscles were thick and the mink could feel his course soft fur under the stocking. When he got to the bend of the stocking at the hock of the otter's leg, he heard Cokker gasp. "Sorry," he said as he paused a moment. "Have to keep going."

When he heard a mumbled agreement, he continued as gingerly as he could. The soft squeezes elicited a few more wincing gasps and some flinching, but everything in the otter's ankle felt in place. When he was past the hock, his finger pads brushed past the stocking strap below the bend and were pressing against his fur.

O Riain felt his heart racing again. He was relieved that Cokker seemingly stopped hurting as he went down. He continued on to his feet, felt along his outside toes and gave the otter's webbing a quick brush with his thumbs. When he did, the otter jerked his foot. "Ya hurt, there?"

"A wee ticklish, I should say." Cokker exhaled in a shudder. "I do have to ask you be careful there. The sudden movement from your ministration did me no good, I'm afraid."

O Riain stood and looked at Cokker. Their eyes locked and his heart pounded in his chest so hard he could hear his own pulse. The otter wasn't overly tall, but he was still a head taller. It wasn't until the otter's expression shifted and he looked away that O Riain realized he was staring again. Blazes and damnation, get a hold on it, he told himself. "I, uh, I think ya got a twist. No broken bones."

Cokker cleared his throat and glanced back at the mink. "That's good, at the least."

"Going to retrieve the fowler. We'll settle in near the brook."

"I'm due back in York city before the week's end."

"We're thirty miles from Providence," O Riain said as he gestured in a generally southeasterly direction. "Be best if we lose a day than lose several pushing on with a lame foot." O Riain noticed the otter frown. "Coin's not going to be as good?"

Cokker stood for a moment before he sighed and shook his head. "No, it's nothing." The otter's tone betrayed his disappointment.

"Aye? Well stand here and I'll help ya down when I get back." O Riain walked up the hill the few paces while readjusting his gear that had become disheveled in the fall. His musket was barrel down while the lock rested in a crook in the stone. The mink bent over and picked it up and turned it over in his paws. The stock had no discernible damage, so he unwrapped the cloth around the flint and examined the lock.

The flint itself was jarred out of the jaws. The cock was askew and didn't look as if it would drop the flint directly on primer pan. O Riain sighed as he loosened the jaw screw and removed the flint. The rest of the musket didn't appear to have damage, so O Riain turned to head back down to the otter. Before he took a step, he heard a branch behind him snap.

O Riain looked back and saw a flash of dark jump between trees. It didn't move like any animal he had ever seen, and it was so fast that it looked more like a tattered black sail than anything alive. He stood and watched the tree it disappeared behind, genuine fear pumping through his body the likes of which he hadn't experienced in years. It wasn't until he heard the otter's voice that he finally realized he was transfixed on the tree.

"Fellow? Is all well?" Cokker said with an elevated tone, despite only being about ten feet away.

O Riain turned toward him as his fear enhanced pulse started to settle. "Did ya hear that?"

"Hear what? I've not heard anything but the woods around us. Are you all right?" Cokker shifted against the tree. "I hate to bother, but my compass is getting rather heavy with me only being able to stand on one leg and all."

"Right," The mink said as he moved back down the hill. "Sorry. I heard a branch break and would swear I saw what did it."

"Oh?"

The mink shifted on his feet and his tail lashed. "No, it's nothing. Probably been out in the wood too long."

"You should enjoy York city for a day or two when we get to the Brooklyn fairy." Cokker eased his arm over the link's shoulder as O Riain supported him.

"Too many people," O Riain said as he pressed his body closer and tightened his grip. The warm feeling starting to fill him again. "I don't even like going into small frontier towns to barter, let alone a city proper." The more level ground made their going easier as they approached the edge of the stream. The mink helped Cokker sit on a large fallen tree near a rocky patch where not many plants were growing from the forest floor. "Never been one to take in amenities of a city, neither."

"I should think a proper bed after weeks in the wilderness would be a welcome change."

"Got me a proper bed," O Riain explained as he shrugged the knapsack off his shoulders then lifted it to show the otter. He lingered on his eyes again, looking into the pinks and reds so uncommon he'd only ever seen one other like them. He leaned the rucksack against the log, his gaze always returning to the otter. This time, Cokker didn't avert his eyes.

"Uh, I..." Cokker swallowed and shook his head. "I never got your Christian name, good fellow."

"Oh, it's Sil," the mink replied and smiled. "Sil O Riain." He took the compass from the otter and leaned it against the knapsack with his musket.

"Sil," He let it roll off his tongue. "You can call me Lucas." The otter said and matched the mink's smile.

Sil's heart was still racing until Lucas finally looked away with a small frown. "Ya all right?"

"Oh, just thinking about being behind schedule." His tone was false. "Hard to imagine we got thirty miles in one day. You, uh, you're good at this."

"Just doing me job," Sil said with a boastful manner woven in. "Been out here since I got off the boat."

"Well, being used to surveying the southern colonies, flat tobacco fields are a lot easier than these rugged New England territories, I dare say."

"Aye. Haven't been to Carolina in many a year." Sil finished offloading his gear save for a hatchet tucked in his sash. "I'll get a fire going. We'll stay here and let ya mend for the day. On the morrow, we can see how ya walk."

"It's midday," Lucas said as he looked up at the sun through the veil of the tree canopies. "Will it take a full day?"

"Can't rush mending," Sil said as he headed back to the thicker woods to gather tinder and fuel.

#

The sun was setting behind the hills as Sil stoked the fire. He stirred the coals as he moved a burning log up to reveal white hot surrounded by the fiery oranges. On the end of a long knife, he rested the cock with the jaw screw removed and pushed it into the white coals. With his muzzle close enough to breathe life into the heat but far enough to not burn his whiskers, he blew on the white and the glow flared.

After a few minutes, he pulled the knife out of the fire with the tip orange from the heat, and the smaller cock a brighter shade of orange. He put it down on a flat stone by the fire, letting it slide from the knife. From a leather bundle, he pulled a smooth rounded stone that had a divot worn where his thumb sat. He taped on the bent piece of metal with the stone until the shaft was reasonably flat. Sil took his water skin and quenched the metal. It was discolored and looked worse for wear, but appeared more as it should.

"You're pretty handy, fellow," Lucas said as he watched the mink working.

"Aye, ya have to be." He sat the cock against the lock plate and threaded the tumbler screw in. "Like as not, it'll break instead of bend now. But then, I can replace it when we get to York city."

The otter inclined his head and looked at the smoke curling skyward and into the trees. "It's rather peaceful here," he said and looked back at the mink. "The running brook, the birds, the wind in the trees."

Sil paused as he remembered the branch snapping and the tattered black darting between trees. "Aye, most times. Ya have to be careful. Sure as you think you can take it easy is when something goes sideways."

"Like the surveyor who hired you falling down a gully, eh fellow?" Lucas paused as the mink dry chuckled. "You're from Ireland, are you not?"

The flattened-tipped metal rod in Sil's paw slipped out of the screw notch. He sighed as he shook his head. "Aye, born in Ulster. Don't recollect it; I was maybe five. Ma and Da left after we were put off a farm near Coleraine. Was an extension of the troubles old King James started back afore me time."

"Oh, I see." Lucas shifted on the log uncomfortably. "I take it you're no fan of King William, then."

"I don't concern me self with it," Sil replied as he looked up at Lucas. "Ma and Da did, and they died on the crossing for it."

"You're an orphan?"

"Only if ya don't count everything around." Sil motioned to the woods. "They sent me to an orphanage off the boat. I absconded as soon as I was able. Wound up with a lot of French trappers. They brought me up and I learned me trade."

"French trappers?"

"Oui," Sil said with a nod. "Parles-tu Français?"

"Uh, afraid not, fellow."

"Aye, well, ya pick up a thing or two when a full two thirds your camp don't speak a word of English." Sil tilted his head at the otter. "Begging pardon, but Cokker isn't one of the noble family names I ever heard, though ya have an aristocratic air."

Lucas' small ears dipped as much as the could and he looked down at the fire. He drew a breath and let it out in a deliberately slow exhale.

"Sorry," Sil said as he picked up a shard of flint and started napping it with an antler tip.

"No," Lucas said and waited until the mink looked back at him before he drew another breath to steady himself. "It's quite all right. You have indulged my every question. It's only fair I return the favor."

Sil saw the look in his eyes, like a distant fond memory, but the forlorn expression on his muzzle told a deeper story. "Ya don't have to."

"Cokker isn't, or rather it wasn't, my family name." Lucas' muzzle curled up as he forced a smile. "Being born without pigment sets you apart. When you're already under scrutiny, the most mild of transgressions will get you disowned."

Sil furrowed his brow as he cocked his head to the other side. "How do ya mean?"

"I was caught with a servant."

"Sounds normal enough."

"Ah, yes. Well, you're familiar with Leviticus?"

Sil nodded, then lifted his eyebrows. "Ah, ya mean like a sodomite?"

Lucas coughed then nodded.

"And that's a problem, I take it?"

"It's..." The otter's glance darted around as if he was trying to figure out the answer. "Of course it is! It's a sin, is it not?"

"Ya don't find much worry about that sort of thing on the frontier, friend. We got too much other to be worrying over than who warms your bedroll." Sil chipped a small piece of the flint with the antler tip before he blew the sharp fragment free of dust and wrapped the thick end in a leather patch. "I have a feeling it's more than a passing fancy."

"I beg your pardon?" Lucas asked indignantly.

Sil tightened the jaw screw down and secured the flint in the cock. "Ya've trouble lookin' me in the eye." The mink sat the musket down and stood up. He walked around the fire and stopped in front of the otter. He refused to look away, even when Lucas squirmed and leaned back. His heart was pounding and the heat in his blood was more intense than the fire at his back. "Ya've tried to look away every time I look you in the eye. And I know why, sure."

"You know?"

"I know ya feel what I feel when I look at you. I didn't know what it was, but now..." Sil leaned close and brushed his small button nose against the otter's broad pink nose.

"Now?"

Sil pressed his muzzle against Lucas' and kissed him roughly. His tongue pushed into the otter's mouth and Lucas returned it in kind. Musk filled his nostrils and coursed through his veins, permeating him to the core. He had never smelled desire so close and personal before. He put his paws on Lucas' chest and slid them under his overcoat. When the otter grunted, Sil opened his eyes and pulled back.

"Sorry," the mink said as he raised a paw and shielded his face while looking away. "Blazes, I don't know what came over me."

"I do," Lucas said as he reached up and grabbed Sil's frock. He pulled the mink back to his muzzle and kissed him just as hard. Pushing his paws up, he forced the frock open and down over Sil's shoulders.

The mink pulled his arms out of his sleeves and frantically loosened his sash. His frock crumpled behind him and he stepped in, straddling the otter. The mustelids shared stubby legs, but the mink was more agile. It took little effort to slide into the otter's lap while avoiding his injured ankle. As Lucas wrapped his arms around him, Sil put his paws on the otter's chest and pushed his overcoat open.

Their kissing continued as their paws wandered each other's bodies. They gripped and tugged at the linens covering the soft fur underneath. The concealed arousal beneath their clothes strained against the fabric and pressed against one another.

Sil broke away from the kiss and started to unbutton Lucas' waistcoat. While he worked on the button row, the otter pulled his cravat free and dropped it to the ground. When Sil got the last button free, Lucas moved his arms pack as the mink's paws pushed the fabric of the otter's coats up and they fell behind him.

Their movements were becoming more frantic. Each new motion more frenzied than the last. Lucas picked Sil's hat off the mink's head, and then they both hurried to remove their undershirts. They crumpled on the forest floor in the growing pile of protective fabric.

With their chests exposed, they looked each other up and down. Lucas was pure white, and where his fur brushed against Sil's the chestnut brown mingling with it stood in contrast.

Sil pressed his muzzle against Lucas' neck. His scent was strong and every inhale made the mink's head spin. Planting kisses up his neck to the side of his muzzle, their whiskers brushed together. Lucas' whiskers were firm and bristled against the mink's own. He was about to kiss him again when realization flashed back into his mind and he pulled away.

"Wait," he said, and paused while Lucas caught his breath and slowly opened his eyes. "I never felt this before. It's like I'm possessed. Never have I desired anyone this way."

"Mmn," Lucas murmured in agreement and moved his muzzle toward Sil's again.

"No, I mean, can it really happen like that?"

Lucas blinked a few times and drew his muzzle back. "Well, obviously." The otter squeezed the mink's back, letting his fur tumble between his webbed fingers. "I couldn't stop now if all the hells stood between us."

"And ya don't find that unsettling?"

"O Riain, the only thing unsettling me is this chatter when we should be in the throes." The otter bucked his hips upward and ground against the mink for emphasis.

Sil moaned and bared down in Lucas' lap. "Aye, but--" he was cut off as the otter leaned in and bit his shoulder. His teeth didn't break the flesh, but Lucas let out a lustful growl and the mink's whole body shuddered. "By Christ, that's good." Sil clawed the otter's back as he held his body tightly. "Harder."

Lucas growled as he obliged. His sharp teeth sank into the skin below Sil's fur and pinpricks surged tingles of electric pleasure through them both.

"Harder..." Sil's voice was weakening as his eyes rolled back.

The otter bit down and the dampness of the opening wounds mixed with the hot wet breath in Lucas' growls. The grinding against his rear became more rough. The fire crackled near them as their own fire built, quickly working into a raging inferno.

Sil felt the otter's claws rake down his back and pry around his waist under the fabric of his breeches. He came to his senses enough to bring his own paws down to the button fly of Lucas' breeches and unfasten them. Neither had gotten far before an awkward shuffle began. The otter had released Sil's shoulder, and the mink eased down to the leafy floor. He kicked off his breeches and then gingerly pulled off the breeches and stocking over Lucas' injured foot.

When they were both nude, Sil looked up at the pink flesh standing up from the otter's lap like a ship's mast. Every bit of Lucas' fur was white from tail tip to the top of his head. The pink flesh on his body stood out, and his maleness was no exception. It glistened as clear liquid seemed to push out with every throb. Sil pressed his muzzle against the otter's sheath and inhaled.

The musk that hit him was tenfold stronger than the musk on Lucas' neck. The mink shivered and moaned as his own arousal shot a stream of its own clear liquid. Sil knew he couldn't resist, he had to know what it tasted like. He lifted his head and then swallowed Lucas to his root in one swift motion. The otter gasped above him and paws wrapped around his head and held him firmly. Every beat of the otter's heart Sil felt against his tongue.

He swallowed around the simultaneously hard and soft flesh. Lucas' scent radiated from his loins and boiled the mink's blood. Heat pumped through his body, and the heat off the otter into his muzzle indicated it was a very mutual feeling. The pungent taste of the pre fluids hit his tongue and he moaned like it was the sweetest nectar he'd ever taste.

Lucas started to buck against the mink's muzzle but stopped suddenly. "No," he said as he lifted Sil's muzzle off him by his cheeks. The mink whimpered as the tip slid free of his lips, but Lucas continued until he was looking Sil in the eyes. "I'm finishing where it belongs. Get back on top of me."

Sil nodded and stood up, shuffling into a straddle. He lowered himself until he felt the tip brush between his legs, then up the cleft of his backside. When it brushed against his opening, he let out a long moan. "God above." His voice quivered and he gasped. "I've never wanted anything more in all me days."

"You're getting it," Lucas said as he moved his paws to Sil's shoulders and pushed him down. The head of his erection slipped inside the warm confines with ease and the mink cried out. "Does it hurt?" he asked as he resisted every instinct in his body to keep pushing Sil down.

"Like as your teeth did," Sil explained. "Best hurt I've ever had."

"Good." Lucas pushed the mink down, but Sil needed no encouragement. The mink slid all the way down and settled in his lap as he cooed.

"By the Almighty. If heaven is half as good, I'd best get to confession as soon as I can."

Lucas didn't respond except to move his paws to the mink's lithe hips and lift. Sil was eager to assist and lifted off him until he was half way, and wasted no time in lowering back down.

"Fuck," Sil hissed through clenched teeth. He gasped and panted as he wrapped his arms under the otter's. "Fuck, that's amazing. Had no idea--" The mink was silenced when the otter pressed his muzzle against his and pushed his tongue into his mouth.

Sil didn't need any more encouragement. He lifted to the same height with he was the first time and lowered back down. When he did, Lucas bucked up against his rear. The otter's paws moved from his waist to the cheeks beneath his tail and he spread them apart. Their movements became a chaotic rhythm. As they build toward their crescendo, Sil's cheeks clapped against Lucas' thighs.

They panted, grunted, and moaned in each other's mouths as their tongues danced along with their coupling bodies. Claws dug into flesh, fists balled with fur, and the bouncing mink's rear slurped with the slick otter's pre as he bucked.

Sil felt like there were two sets of paws on him. The one kneading and gripping his rear, while the other lovingly caressed his upper back. It was faint and distant, and it barely registered in his perception. Most of all, he didn't care. His first sexual encounter was full of new feelings, new scents, new need. All that mattered was getting the otter's seed inside his body.

His wait was shot lived as Lucas broke away from the kiss and nipped at his cheek. He snapped his teeth down the mink's neck, never biting hard enough to break skin again, until he got back to the shoulder. Lucas' long fangs sunk in.

Sil cried out as his lover grunted and growled. The otter's paws held him fast tightly against his lap as the pulses in his manhood swelled it against his tailring. He felt the warmth pour into him a torrent of the virulent sin came wave after wave.

For what felt like minutes, the otter held him tight and seemingly the orgasm never abated. When Lucas finally pulled his teeth from the mink's shoulder, he rolled his head back and let out a long and contented moan.

Sil panted atop him, looking at the pink nose, the twitching whiskers, his rising and falling chest, with warmth radiating in his chest the same as it did in his rear. He cooed and leaned forward to nuzzle against Lucas' neck, but the movement rubbed his erect penis against the otter belly fur, and he gripped the otter's back tight as his own orgasm sprayed against the soft fur.

It wasn't near as strong or as drawn out as Lucas' own, but it was far more intense than he had ever experienced from his own handy work. "Jesus, Mary," he moaned as he all but collapsed in the otter's arms. It was then that he felt the warmth in his chest fade. It was slow, like a kettle off the fire cooling in the breeze, but he noticed it fading.

Sil lifted his head and saw Lucas looking as uncomfortable as he felt. The sexual desire for the otter wasn't gone--it felt more intense than ever--but that emotional need for him had bled away in the afterglow. The mink sighed and shook his head. "Sorry."

Lucas eased him up and Sil lifted off the otter's arousal. When it slipped free of its ensconced envelopment, they shared a collective gasp. He held the mink until Sil was standing on the ground. "Something came over me." Lucas shied away from the mink. "Something came over us, I think."

Sil shifted his weight back and forth on his feet. His legs felt a weak, but it wasn't bad enough that he couldn't stand. He attempted to rub the fatigue out of his eyes with the back of his paw. "I'm all aweary." The mink looked down at Lucas. "Is it supposed to wear ya down like so?"

"Was that your first?" Lucas asked as he looked back at the mink. When Sil nodded, he winced. "Ah, I'm sorry, fellow. I didn't mean to..." Lucas shook his head. "No, I don't recall it draining stamina the way we did just now. The whole affair was," Lucas paused and looked away again, "odd."

"It was incredible, but I feel so empty now. It's quite queer."

"Empty in two senses, I imagine."

"Aye." Sil nodded as he looked up at the light beginning to fade beyond the hills. "Same?"

"Quite," Lucas replied.

"Well, nothing for it. Come on, I'll help ya to the stream and we can clean up and get some rest."

Lucas looked up at Sil with a stern expression. "No."

"No?" Sil asked as he locked eyes with the otter, and the dourness made his stomach sink and his heart flutter.

"You'll help me to the stream, clean me up, and any time I want to mount you tonight, I will. My seed stays inside you."

Sil felt the heat return to his cheeks and ears. He swallowed as he felt his arousal slide from his sheath. "Aye."

#

Sil heard the trees all around him crack and snap. The sky was a hellish glow wreathed in blackness. Every breath caught in his throat and choked him. White hot lighting danced in veins through the charcoal colored vortex around the firestorm above him.

His heart raced as he ran through the forest. Trunks jutted from the ground like jagged and gnarled teeth as the canopies of the blackened leaves were ripped asunder. Sil's stubby legs carried him as fast as they could along the crackling of burnt twigs and leaves, and he climbed over the fallen trunks with the desperation of a salmon in an eagle's talons.

Screaming for help so loud that he felt his throat tear, but his ears head only the burning of the world around him. He screamed again, but it was another mute scream. Lighting flashed to the ground in front of him and splintered a mighty oak. Its ashen bark became cinders and sparks flew out from every direction. His eyes snapped closed, but he could still see it as the burning splinters peppered his face and body.

From the stump, tattered wings sprouted. Claws dug up from the earth below the roots, and they grasped at his breeches and feet. Out of desperation, he stomped and kicked at the clawed fingers. All he accomplished was to allow the thing better purchase on his leg. The claws pushed through the fabric and fur like they were nothing and sunk into his flesh.

Sil jerked around and tried to run back away from the beast, but it held fast and he fell hard. It pulled him toward the stump hole that Sil could see widening. The ground around it was falling into a deep pit that cloaked the creature. Sil could see its eyes looking at him. They glowed and the color bled from them and dripped into the darkness.

The mink grasped at the dirt, desperately trying to grab anything that would slow the pull into the abyss. His fingers and claws cut troughs in the dirt as he was dragged down. Despite the terror he felt, his mind went to the white otter. He dug his claws into the dirt as firm as he could and yelled, "Lucas!"

A sharp crack of thunder boomed above his head and his eyes snapped open. "Lucas," he called out, but it was barely a screamed whisper. There was darkness all around him, but the sound of the storm still raged. It was then he caught the scent of the otter.

Lucas was lying beside him, still sleeping. He couldn't hear his breathing over the cacophony of rustling leaves and knocking of branches. It coupled with the impact of heavy rain drops on the hide covering him.

The total darkness meant complete cloud cover and what was left of his fire had already been quenched. Lightning flashed and outlined the trees in an eerie silhouette, followed almost immediately by its deafening thunderous boom. Sil reached his paw over and put it on Lucas' chest. The otter stirred under his paw but didn't wake. He shifted closer to the otter as his small ears tried to focus on the sounds and filter out the howling wind and rainfall.

"Won't be sleeping in this, sure," he said to himself. "Never had a storm catch me unawares afore. Damned if I don't wish we had taken it easy."

As he said that, his chest felt empty. He shuddered under the fur as the rain beat down on them. Over the deafening sounds, Sil heard branches snapping like twigs. The sound of the stream was covered by the sheets of rain impacting it. Through it all, he didn't feel Lucas move.

Keeping his ears open as the water running down the gully soaked his bedding thoroughly, he listened for any trouble in the trees above. Gentle wet weather streams down the sides began to overflow, and the small amount of water on the ground beneath them became soaked. Not far from them, the brook overcame its banks and the slow moving water picked up speed as the shed rain looked for somewhere to settle.

When his hearing picked up the splashing of water against the far side of his fire ring, he pushed back the fur cover and looked toward the brook. The water was less than three feet from him, and creeping closer by the second. He rolled back to the otter and put his paws on Lucas' shoulders. "Cokker. Cokker, for the love, wake up," he cried over the storm, shaking the otter's shoulders.

The otter's eyelids finally began to flutter, but they were snapped closed as the rain falling on his face impacted him without the protection of the cover that Sil had removed. "O Riain?"

"Aye," the mink said with relief. "We have to move. Can you walk?" Sil lifted him to a sitting position.

"Clothes?" Lucas asked, barely above a whisper.

"Soaked through, and we've little time." Sil looked at the water lapping at the bedding during surges. "I'll get the coats but we have to move."

Sil moved the short distance from the bedding where their clothes had been discarded, but the darkness and intense rain made seeing them impossible among the forest debris. He dropped to his knees and felt with his paws until the grasped the fabric. Feeling over the clumps, he separated out his frock and Lucas' overcoat. By the time he got back to the otter against the wind, the water was at Lucas' thighs.

"Christ, Cokker." Sil took the overcoat and put it over his shoulders. The otter still wasn't moving, so Sil had to thread his arms through the sleeves. The soaking fabric made the task difficult as the snagged. When he finally got the coat on Lucas, he quickly threw on his frock and put his paws under the otter's arms.

When he lifted, Luca grunted in pain. He tugged again but the otter stayed limp and grunted more. "Cokker, we've got to move. Help me." When the otter gave him a weak nod, Sil lifted again. Despite the vocal objection from Lucas growing into a scream, he managed to get the otter up and eased under his arm. He braced Lucas against his side, wrapping his arm around his back and pulling his other paw down over his own shoulder.

"We have to get higher," Sil said, but Lucas didn't respond. "I've got ya on your bad side. Walk with your good leg."

"Survey," Lucas said. "Compass." His speech was disjointed.

"For the love, it'll be miles downstream. And so will we if we don't move. Come on."

Sil took a step and held the otter up as he made his own hobbled step to match. He fought the wind, driving rain, and weight of the otter with every inch. The slick incline washing away beneath their feet slowed them even further. In half-an-hour, they had only managed twenty feet up from the bank, and the stream was now a raging river only teen feet behind them. What had been their campsite and all of their gear was long gone.

Large branches snapped like twigs and fell around them. Some of the might trunks even broke and splintered. Sil said a silent prayer, asking not to be struck by the maples and pines being ripped apart. Near one of the large trunks that had broken half way up and bent the tree over, the soil under them gave way and they fell into the muck. Sil scrambled to get the otter's muzzle out of the mud so he wouldn't drown and pulled him up to the tree.

He sat Lucas up with his back against the tree, under the fallen trunk and away from the shedding water rolling down the hill. Sil looked the otter over, and saw his breathing come in irregular gasps. Lucas' eyes were closed and his bottom jaw hung slack.

"Cokker!" he called. He jostled the otter's shoulders and watched his eyelids flutter open then close again. "Ya have to stay awake. I..." Sil felt dread overtake him. "I don't think ya will wake up again if ya fall asleep."

"York?"

"Christ, no," Sil said before he looked toward the east. "We couldn't even make it to the bay or to Providence. Nevermind York City."

"Help..."

Sil bit his lip and then nodded. "Aye. I have to get help. Can ya stay awake for me?"

"Try."

The mink put his paws on Lucas' shoulders and squeezed them. "That's all I ask. I'll be back before ya know." O Riain leaned down and nuzzled against the side of his muzzle. He gave Lucas a quick kiss on the cheek and then moved away and up the hill. He looked back several times, the otter out of sight in only a few feet, but he hadn't felt like he had truly left him until he was standing atop the ridge. His heart sank as he looked east and saw the jagged clouds breaking apart as the dawn painted the sky behind them.

#

O Riain moved as swiftly as his feet would carry him on the sodden ground. The rain had calmed to a sprinkle, but the streams of water still poured off the canopies. Trees all around were broken or uprooted. Every wet weather creek rushed like a raging rapid. He had never seen such destruction from a storm, and a storm had never caught him completely unaware as the previous night.

By mid morning, the clouds had broken and sky was blue with gentle white clouds scattered about. The birds were singing as if it was just another day in the mountains. That coupled with the destroyed trees unsettled him. His exhaustion was building as he moved at a frantic pace, made worse by hunger. O Riain did his best to abate it by picking some dandelion blossoms and primrose leaves as he came across them, but much of the edibles he would forage were covered in the muck and debris from the wild storm.

"Damn it all," he cursed before popping a dandelion in his mouth. He swallowed it without much chewing. "Wish I could have saved the vittles in me pack."

His thoughts turned to Lucas, and how the otter would be hungry and in need of nourishment as well. He didn't even have his old musket to bag any small game or fowl, but he thought about how not even his sealed powder horn would have done much good to keep his powder dry in the hellish storm.

By noon, every step took conscious effort and smaller hills were feeling insurmountable. The mink pulled himself up over a rocky overhang along a less steep side and stood looking down at another valley. The muscles in his short legs burned and ached, and the brambles had taken their toll on his body that was naked from his frock down. Dropping to his knees, he hung his head and sobbed. His tears felt hot against his face as the spring breeze cooled them.

"Christ help me," he plead to the rock beneath him. "I can't..."

His despair was interrupted as he heard a rustling in front of him. He looked up but didn't see anything. He crawled on all fours toward the side of the hill and looked down into the valley. There was a cabin with wooden tile shingles, patches of moss growing atop them. The stone chimney was still and no smoke rose from it, but it was the first time since he started that he felt some of his hope and his energy return.

Climbing down while bracing on trees and saplings, most of his descent was still uncontrolled sliding on his backside. As he got closer to the small building in the valley, he noticed the sag of the roof and the vines creeping up the sides of the log walls. His hopes were fading as it looked more and more abandoned.

When he came to the more level ground, he brushed the caked dirt and mud from his fur as best he could. On the chance there was someone in there, he was worried enough that being half-naked would frighten the occupant. The wall closest to him had a window with one missing shutter and the other hanging by a thread. Looking into the cabin, he could only see a dark room with and old collapsed table, a bare wooden bed frame, and chest of drawers.

Around the side was the entrance, but the door was off the hinges and lying on the ground. He stepped over it and looked into the single room cabin. "Hello?" he called from the doorway. "Anyone there? My...friend. He's injured and needs help."

A cold breeze brushed his neck and chilled him to his core. Sil shook it off and peered his head beyond the threshold. The darkness of the room was stark compared to the sunny day. Despite the storm the previous night, there wasn't so much as a drip of water from the sagging roof. Sil sniffed the air for any signs of an occupant or remnants of one now gone. There was nothing but the smell of old wood and stale air.

He shook his head as he stepped inside. The fireplace had been cold for so long that the ashes had weathered down to faint remnants. The only thing he could see in the mostly empty cabin that might have anything of use was the ragged chest of drawers. "Like as not, I'm clinging to false hope again," he said as he walked toward the far all where it sat. Though his eyes should have adjusted to see better, the cabin was still eerily dark.

As he passed on of the glassless windows and stepped through the stream of light it cast, the view beyond it cleared. He made out fine details of the chest of drawers. Sitting atop it was a ring of candles burned all the way down, and in the middle was a book bound in dark leather. It seemed darker than the room around him.

Sil's fur stood on end at the sight. The cold breeze he had felt became a lingering miasma all around him. It made him painfully aware of how exposed he was as the scrapes and scratches he gathered on his journey burned and itched.

"Blazes, what is this?" he asked the book before realizing how silly of a notion that was. "Calm down, O Riain. Naught but a queer book in a queer abandoned cabin after a queer storm from hell itself." Saying it all aloud only unsettled him further. "Dammit!"

He stomped over to chest of drawers and swept his arm across the top of it, sending the candles and the book flying into the wall and bouncing across the floor. He pulled top drawer out and saw it empty. Then ripped it out and tossed it away. He repeated the process with the drawers all the down with the same result.

On the last drawer he stopped. In the middle was a gold coin. It sat perfectly centered in the drawer despite Sil's rough pulling and jostling of the chest of drawers. On its face was a winged goat.

Sil looked it over for a long time. His mouth was dry and he swallowed hard as a creeping feeling came over him, starting in his tired and sore legs and climbing all the way up his back. He jumped when he felt someone touch his shoulder.

"Jesus, Mary!" he yelled as he turned about in his startled hop. "Who's here? Who in blazes is here?"

He received no answer, but his heart raced and the feeling that he couldn't identify at first he came to know as terror. Spinning back around, he grasped the drawer and was about to rip it out and throw it aside, but his eyes fixed on the coin and stopped him. His paw reached down and his fingerpads brushed the edges.

The odd feelings bled away and his body was filled with warmth. The darkness of the cabin was gone, and the cabin itself. He stood up and looked around. No signs of the forest; no trees, no hills, just a vast field of grasses and wildflowers. The scents in the air were sweet and the sun on his fur was warm and welcoming.

He looked himself over and saw his frock was gone, but so was the mud and dirt. No cuts or scratches on his legs stung him, and the sheen of his fur was brighter than he had ever seen it.

"What? What is this?"

"Name," he heard a whisper. The tone was icy and had a rasp.

"Name? Ya want to know me name?" Sil looked around for the source of the voice but saw only the field with its grass swaying like waves on the ocean.

"Name," it repeated.

It should have unsettled him. It was unnatural and he had never heard anything like it. "Sil O Riain," he said. "Who-or what-are you?"

"Sylryn..." It dragged the pronunciation out into a sibilance.

"No," Sil said as he folded his arms. "Sil O Riain. Now who in blazes are ya? Where am I?"

"We are Sylryn," it said. "You need help."

Sil looked around again. He heard the voice from all directions at once. "Like as not from you, I'll wager."

"You want to save your lover."

Sil's ears flattened and he felt unsettled for the first time since he saw the fields. "How can ya know that?"

"You said. We watched. We listened."

"What in blazes are ya on about?" Sil looked around frantically. "Are ya hiding in the weeds? Show yourself."

"Name," it hissed.

"I told ya twice already. Sil O Riain."

"Our name."

"That bastardized one of mine? Sylryn, ya said?"

The mink felt a blast of hot air sweep over him like fire. The sound around him was a thunderclap and he fell to the ground clapping his paws over his ears. His eyes burned from the heat and they snapped shut. As suddenly as it came on, it was gone.

#

The scents of the field were replaced with the wood of the cabin. He opened his eyes and blinked out the tears until he could see without their blurry obstruction. Sil smelled a wood fire and looked over to the fireplace. There was a chair in front of it and the white otter sat in its warm glow. "Cokker?" he said as lifted himself from the ground.

"Oh," the otter said as he looked back at him. He was smartly dressed with a fine cravat, waistcoat, and overcoat. "Hello, Sil. I thought you would be out hunting for most the day. Didn't hear you come in, I'm afraid."

"What?" Sil looked around as he tried to make sense of what he saw. He was in casual attire with no coat or hat. He looked at his shirt sleeves, then around the room. The cabin looked cozy and comfortable. Every stick of furniture looked as if it had been crafted the day before. The walls had fresh chinking and the rafters were newly hewn with had no age staining. "Cokker, where are we?"

"Come now, Sil," he said and chuckled. "We're home. Massachusetts Bay colony? Our steading?"

"I know we're in bloody Massachusetts," Sil said. "What do ya mean, our home? Our steading?"

"The cabin we built in the valley? Are you quite all right?"

"No," Sil said. "Something happened. You were hurt, and I went for help. I left you in the woods. God, I thought ya would be dead afore I found anyone."

"Sil? Are you well?" Cokker stood from his chair and moved to the mink with urgency. He wrapped his arms around Sil and pressed his paw against his forehead, then felt the mink's nose. "You don't feel feverish."

"I..." Sil leaned into the otter's arms and hugged him. "I thought I'd never see ya again."

"I've been right here, Sil. You had a nightmare or the like."

"Must have," Sil said and squeezed the otter. Lucas' scent filled his nostrils and he breathed his musk. It was the masculine aroma that compelled him to feel comfort in the otter's care, but something was different. There was a slight feminine scent mixed with it. "Cokker, is this real?"

"Why do you keep addressing me by our surname, dear?"

"What? What do ya mean?"

"You took my name when we married." Lucas eased back and looked Sil over. "I think we should go to Boston and have you looked at,"

"No," Sil replied and shook his head. "No, I, uh..." He looked around the cabin again and then back at his husband. "I just feel a bit off. Like as something..."

Lucas pulled Sil close and kissed him deeply. The mink cooed as his tongue met the otter's and they pressed their bodies against one another. Lucas wrapped his paw around Sil's wrist, put the other on his waist, and guided him back to the bed. He pushed Sil onto his back and climbed atop him, still holding the kiss.

When Lucas finally pulled away, Sil laid underneath him panting. "Lucas..."

"Do you remember our wedding?"

Sil thought back and saw Lucas standing beside him in a shady grove. The preacher married them in secret away from prying eyes where their association wouldn't be looked on fondly. The details of the day were vivid, the sounds of cicadas in the trees, the autumn colors in the leaves, the sun casting rays down on them. Sil looked up at Lucas and nodded.

"Do you remember our wedding night?"

Sil closed his eyes and saw the dark room at a small inn near Cambridge. A candle was the only light in the room as Sil sat atop Lucas and bounced up and down. He rolled his head back as the otter climaxed inside of him. Collapsing atop the otter, he felt a sharp bite on the side of his face and he moaned deeply as his husband growled.

"God, like yesterday," Sil replied as the memories came back to him.

"Our first night in our new home?"

The heat between Sil's legs made his arousal throb against his trousers. "We was as two kids in a hay loft. I never knew you could go until ya ran dry."

Lucas smiled and grabbed the collar of Sil's shirt. He pulled the fabric apart and it ripped open. His paws went to the mink's chest as and he ran them through his fur down to the waist of his trousers. Slipping his fingers under the fabric, he jerked them down and snapped the button on Sil's tailflap. The otter smiled at the sight of the tented breechclout.

Sil gasped as the otter gripped his maleness through the fabric and stroked it. "Lucas," he cried as the pressed fabric tugged on his sensitive flesh. "Ya have to be so rough?"

The otter gave his mink a mischievous smirk as he tightened his grip and stoked harder. "You know this is only a toy for me to play with, love." He watched as the mink squirmed, moaned, and winced with his movements. "Just like the rest of you. Yes?"

"God..." Sil panted and forced his eyes open. "Yes."

"Good," Lucas said then released the mink's penis. He moved his paws under the breechclout and pulled the looped fabric loose. He moved himself behind Sil and lifted up his legs. Lucas pulled down his trousers and breeches just enough to free his erection and he lifted Sil up by the thighs.

The mink yipped as he felt Lucas' tip press against his tailhole. "Love, ya got no--ah!" the mink cried as he felt the dry tip start to spread him open. "God, don't stop."

"As if I would." Lucas pushed his hips forward and his length slid inside, tugging the sensitive walls of the mink as it sank rapidly. He pulled back and thrust in with force and speed. He leaned down and bit the mink's neck again and growled dominantly.

Sil gasped and licked at the side of Lucas' muzzle. The rough pull against his insides and push back in made his body quake and took his breath away. It was beyond anything he had ever experienced. The pleasure around him pulsed with every throb of his cock and radiated out to his whole body.

Lucas released his neck; his sharp fang tips smeared red. "You want this?"

"God, as I want the very air I breathe."

"You will be mine for this life and all to follow?"

"I will." Sil panted as his member twitched.

"So, the agreement is binding," Lucas said as he pushed into the mink and held them firmly against his cheeks. He sprayed his come in Sil's backside as the mink's own orgasm exploded from the stimulation.

#

Sil furiously stroked his erection as he panted. The coin in his paw rubbed against his tender flesh as he held it tight, rubbing the face of the coin against the sweat and pre that sheened on the unmentionable flesh. The mink's eyes were still tightly closed as he moaned, his cum spraying out as he laid on the floor half curled up.

It slicked the golden coin as the unconscious masturbating mink came all over it. It fell from his paw and clattered on the floor of the cabin, rolling away covered in his seed. Sil panted softly as the world in his mind was perfection, despite the crumbling building around him.

A red light flashed from the coin and a red arc of energy hit the mink's chest. The whole of his body started to glow as his clothes melted away, crackling in the mysterious power and flaking off, disintegrating into dust.

The energy wrapped around his legs, and then up past his groin, and torso. It manifested in a new outfit that stood in sharp contrast to the frock and ragged cloth that he was wearing. The floor charred under his body and smoke pulled from the heating wood.

Sylryn opened his eyes and blinked. He rubbed his face as he felt paw pads against a physical form. He laughed as he moved his paws away and flexed his fingers, looking at the digits moving about with his physical eyes. He smiled as he slid his paws back to the blackened floor and pushed himself up.

After he was on his feet, he looked down at his red overcoat with gold trim. Shining gold buttons in a row down its side with gold thread reinforced buttonholes on the opposite. His crevette was fine silk, and black as charcoal. His breeches were a sharp contrasting white to the overcoat, but the sash around his waist was the same crimson red.

"Oh," he said as he looked over his outfit. "I like this. And..." He slid his paw down over the fabric of his coat, then in toward the sash, and over his crotch. "Oh. Oh my. Male? Very interesting."

Sylryn giggled as he moved his right paw around and lifted his coat tail. He worked his fingers under his sash breeches and around his tailbase. He took his time, savoring the feel of his fingerpads against his fur. He slipped his other paw down the front.

When he reached his tailhole with his fingers, he rubbed around the textured pucker and let out a lewd moan. At the same time, he rubbed his sheath opening, and then tweaked his arousal as it slid from its housing.

"Oh," he said as he started to pant. "It's so focused." He cooed as his thumb and index finger rubbed around his glans. "And back here?" He pushed a finger in his tailhole and down against his prostate. "Oh yeah," he said in a long drawn out moan.

He pulled his paws from his pants and chuckled. "Male will do fine, I think. Now, Boston, is it? Strange name for a city. Hope it's half as fun as Prague." He held out his hand and the red flickers formed into a black tricorn with red velvet around the brim. The distinct gold thread stitches matched those in his coat.

He put his hat on his head and fluffed the silk ruffles that hung out from the sleeves of his overcoat. After a brief check to make sure his dandy outfit was just perfect for attracting a discerning eye looking for some biblical sin, he bent down and scooped up the coin. With a long and broad lick, he cleaned it of Sil's seed, then flipped it up and leaned back, tucking his thumb in a lower pocket on his overcoat and catching it.

"All that trouble those Salem folks went through, and a bumpkin from the backwoods gets it right." He laughed as he strolled out of the cabin into the woods and headed toward Boston.

* * *