FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Author's Notes: This is a work-in-progress of one of my current projects, which will be updated as and when I write new material, rather than only when I finish a chapter. It's something of an experiment, with hopes of ensuring more frequent new material for you the readers, and more impetus to write for me. Feedback, comments and thoughts are very gratefully received, since this is very much a growing, evolving story, and your input would help the process of growth immensely. This will not feature any explicit sexual content, but there is (naturally) copious nudity, sensitive themes are addressed and, well, this is me writing, so an adult rating seems best. It's almost exclusively the obligatory scene-setting and character-introducing stuff so far, but hopefully not too dull for it. Onward to story...

Chapter One

Meet the Robertsons

Max barely knew his Grandfather.

Over the course of his twelve-and-a-bit years he'd seen him just twice, once at the staid, stuffy funeral of a great-uncle whose name he couldn't begin to remember, and once at the wedding of a far too perky and bubbly cousin twice removed who thought him unutterably cute and kept on tweaking his ears no matter how much he pleaded for them not to. Both times Grandpa had been a distant and reserved presence glimpsed only occasionally on the fringe of things, tall and quiet and still, immaculate in his curiously old-fashioned suit, his face barely visible beneath the tilted brow of his charcoal grey fedora. Any attempts from anyone to engage him in any kind of conversation were silently and impassively, if politely, ignored, and on both occasions he'd melted from the scene the moment the service was over.

His aversion to company of any variety seemed both absolute and unshakeable, so it came as no small surprise to Max when he invited the whole Robertson family to stay with him for not just a couple of days but almost the entirety, give or take a day or two, of the summer holidays - just over five weeks. Gerald, Max's father, who'd taken the call making the offer, had reacted at first with wide-eyed, slack-jawed incredulity, then beaming delight, and hadn't stopped grinning from outsize ear to outsize ear since, much to his children's bemusement.

Whenever he was asked why the idea of a holiday with his father was so exciting a prospect he'd responded with vivid tales of the many and varied wonders to be found within and around the expansive and very old manor house Grandpa called home, his golden eyes sparkling, his hands gesturing with great energy.

Though Max and his twin sister weren't willing to outright believe everything their dad said - after all, how many houses, even big and expensive and old ones, had things like those in the grounds? - they couldn't help but be caught up by his enthusiasm, and readily agreed to accept the offer. The remaining two weeks of school felt impossibly long after that, but finally summer and the day of departure came.

Since Gerry had a few work-related loose ends to tie up they'd not left home until mid-afternoon, an interminable wait for the impatient siblings, Max in particular eager to get the trip over and done with. He hated being cooped up, in any way, in any thing or for any length of time, to the point of phobia, so spending seven hours shut inside a less than spacious car didn't particularly appeal to him, especially on a day as warm and close as this one was rapidly becoming. Throw in a sister not being nearly as friendly or companionable or even talkative as normal, for no reason he could see, and the result was one terminally bored, agitated and irritable young vulpine with his nose pressed tight against his window, staring hard into the endless gloom of a moonless, overcast night, willing the house to be around the next bend.

Of course, it wasn't. Or the next. Or the one after that. Groaning softly and tugging at the collar of his scarlet football shirt Max pulled away from the glass, intending to ask the same question he'd asked at least a half-dozen times in the last thirty minutes, only for his mother to cut him off before he'd fully opened his mouth.

"Nearly there, sweetie," Hannah assured him, just a little weariness creeping into her smile. "It's just past this next village."

"You said that two villages ago." It came out more sullen and irritable than he'd wanted, but neither of his parents seemed to notice.

"My mistake, Max," Gerry responded, smoothly, not looking nearly as fatigued as he should have done after so long at the wheel. "I forgot how alike the villages round here are; they all seem to have a Green Mile Inn. Pretty sure the one coming up on the left there is Dad's old local, though."

Max twisted round, looking past the slumbering bundle in the child seat and his sporadically fidgeting sister just in time to watch a small, lopsided jumble of a building, half-visible in the cool orange glow of a street lamp and half-buried under masses of thick and dark ivy, slide by. It looked like it'd been gently drowsing there for an eon or more.

"Heh - not changed a bit." His father's voice was thick with warm nostalgia. "If I didn't know better I'd almost think old Pat and his wife were still running it."

"Ted's doing them proud," Hannah chimed in, flashing a soft smile. "We'll have to drop in for a bit tomorrow; catch up."

"Definitely." Gerry nodded enthusiastically. "That'll give you two a chance to meet his children; I think you'd get on a treat."

"Maybe," Max responded, in a non-committal murmur, his focus on the girl across from him more than the innkeeper's offspring - one of her delicate paws furrowing the fur between her limp ears, the other rubbing circles on the area of her belly left bare between her halter top and skirt, Tamsin looked on the verge of bursting into tears. He reached over the sleeping infant to gingerly lay a paw on her shoulder, wanting to try and comfort her, but not knowing what if anything she'd accept; most likely she'd simply shrug off the contact and glare at him before turning away, as she had the last few times he'd tried.

This time, though, she turned to smile weakly and somewhat wryly at him, the hand on her head shifting to lightly grasp his. "Talk about bad timing...and when Han said menses can be painful, I'd no idea it would be this painful."

Max's eyes widened, but before he could respond Hannah's voice broke in.

"Menses?" She'd craned round in her seat, gazing at her daughter as best she could in a mixture of concern, sympathy and pride. "Why on earth didn't you say anything?"

"Didn't want to cause a fuss," Tamsin murmured, looking awkwardly down at her lap.

"And why ever not?" Gerald asked. "It's a real milestone, Tams."

"More importantly," Hannah chimed back in, "we could have helped you deal with it, dear - it's really not something to suffer in silence with, especially the first time. Believe me, I know."

"I know, I know..." Her ears were drooping now, and her voice was barely audible. "I just didn't want to make the trip any longer than it already was."

Gerry chuckled softly, shaking his head. "No-one would've minded that, love - not for this."

"Definitely not," Max piped up, earning a slightly broader smile from his sister.

"Still, we know now." Hannah reached over the backrest to pat the young vixen's knee. "We'll take a look and see what we can sort out when we reach the house, okay?"

"Okay," Tamsin agreed, stifling a small yawn. "If I can stay awake."

"It'll only take us a few minutes," her mother promised, turning back round. "And I think we've finally made it."

"We have," Gerald confirmed. "Coming up on your right, folks."

"Behind that wall?" Max asked, staring through his window again, his sister craning as close as her belt and the chair between them would allow, both taking in the tall and broad rust-red dry stone wall that ran close enough to the lane they were rolling along to feel more than a little overbearing, especially in the deepening murk of the night. Right behind it a dense screen of trees was just visible, massed branches shifting restlessly. "But that's a wood...land..."

He trailed off, amber eyes widening and jaws slackening as the full implications of this discovery sank in. He turned to see his sister's face set almost identically.

"But, then..." She swallowed. "I-if the woodland's real, then th-that means..."

"The-the..."

"And the..."

"Ev-everything..."

They spoke in incredulous unison. "Is real too..."

"Oh, ye of little faith," Gerry chortled, grinning hugely. "You should learn to trust your father."

"I hereby swear on my tail never to disbelieve a single solitary word you say ever again," Maxwell averred, with hand on heart and eyes still bugging at the thought of what lay in wait.

"Well, I wouldn't go that far," Hannah laughed. "He's not above the odd porky now and then."

"True, but only when absolutely necessary," Gerald insisted, a touch pugnaciously, even as his grin widened further. "And here comes our way in - pretty impressive, hmm?"

Impressive, thought Max, his bottom jaw now hanging so low it was practically brushing his chest, was a wholly inadequate description. He'd expected a gate and twin stone posts, large and solid and just a little pretentious, as all those outside big houses tended to be; what actually came looming into view was a full-blown, two-storey, heavily crenellated and deeply forbidding edifice of a gate_house_, built from the same ruddy-hued stone as the walls, a sight he had a great deal of trouble taking in. A drawn-out gasp from close by strongly suggested he wasn't alone.

As Gerry pulled up to the simple yet imposing wrought iron gates that straddled the wide passage through the gatehouse Max thought for an instant he saw a face framed in one of the windows high above, a near-subliminal glimpse of something alive and watchful gazing out of the faintly-lit guardroom before it vanished in a blink. He shook his head, trying to convince himself it was just his imagination, over-active at the best of times, playing tricks on him in league with his fatigue, and almost succeeded.

Shifting in his seat and rubbing his eyes his gaze meandered around the building's forbidding façade, eventually settling on the long row of sharp iron points protruding from a slot in the ceiling of the passage, betraying the presence of a broad portcullis - not a sight that did a great deal for his growing unease. He fervently hoped the house itself was a little bit more welcoming.

"New 'cullis," Gerald noted, eye ridges lifting briefly. "Interesting." He leaned out of his window to activate an intercom panel affixed to the wall of the passage. "Gerald and family, checking in."

"Gerry! Finally! We were starting to worry you'd had a change of heart!" The cheerful voice was not unlike Hannah's, being soft, silken and clear, but with a deeper, richer undercurrent and more than a trace of huskiness.

"Roadworks on the motorway; snarled traffic up for miles on end," Gerry responded, his grin now threatening to break his face in two. "If you could open the gates, please - we'd all very much like to collapse and pass out 'til morning, if it's all the same to you."

"Don't blame you - sounds like a long trip." As she spoke the gates began swinging open, silent, swift and smooth. "Drive straight up to the entrance and park by the car there. We'll see you inside."

"Yes, ma'am." Gerald settled back into his seat and eased the car forwards, under the gatehouse.

Max couldn't resist twisting around to look up at the guardroom windows as they came into view behind him, but was greeted with nothing but darkness so deep he couldn't make out anything beyond the thick glass. Sighing softly, now almost completely convinced he'd imagined the face, he subsided back against his window, scratching his side under his shirt and watching as walls of red stone rose quickly either side of the car. Ahead the smoothly arched mouth of a tunnel loomed, a pinprick of light clinging to the very apex of the roof, more dotted regularly along what little of its length he could discern. In the middle of an ornately bordered keystone that jutted out from the rest lined around the passage mouth a sinuous, heavily stylised leaf (a willow leaf, he thought) and the date 1639 were expertly etched.

"Is that the age of the house?" he asked his father.

"No, just the tunnel," Gerald answered, slowing down momentarily to let the second set of gates, straddling the entrance of the passage, open fully. "The house is mostly 1400s, with a smattering of 1600s, a dash of 1800s, and even a fair old chunk of...well, you'll see."

"I hate it when he gets all mysterious," Tamsin muttered, one paw under her halter top, scratching between the modest bumps of her breasts, her tongue lolling from her open muzzle in gentle pants. "And is it me or is it really muggy all of a sudden?"

Gerald nodded. "It's not just you, Tam. Quite likely there'll be a thunder-storm tonight, if the clouds and the pressure keep building like this. By the way, feel free to get more comfortable - nothing but privacy and friends from here on. Keep your sandals on, though; the gravel's pretty sharp."

Max punched the air and whooped while Tam simply sighed in relief, then almost as one the twins unlatched their seatbelts and peeled off their tops, folding them up and placing them in a small bag resting in the foot-well before them. Max added his shorts to the collection, leaving him wearing just his sandals, rusty orange fur and an intricate little silver cross on a long loop of string around his neck, but Tamsin kept her thin knee-length skirt on, tucking it tightly down between her thighs in an uncharacteristically self-conscious manner. Max squeezed her shoulder, really not enjoying the sight of her so uncomfortable, and got a warm kiss on the side of the muzzle for his troubles.

"I'll live," she assured him, genuine affection tinting her smile. "It's not so bad, now."

"Which means you've probably started bleeding," Hannah reasoned. "The build-up's usually the worst part of menses; that's why they call it _pre-_menstrual tension."

"Oh, great - that's ruined my undies," Tam groused, half-humorously. "Of all the rotten times..."

"They'll live," Hannah chuckled. "And believe me, you're getting off lightly when it comes to bad timing. Very lightly."

"I'll say," Gerry agreed. "Remember PE class?"

"PE class?" Tamsin asked, befuddled. "But girls and boys don't do PE together..."

"They do when its rained so hard the whole sports field's turned into a marsh," Hannah answered, with a grin. "We ended up sharing the gymnasium. Barely ten minutes in and I start bleeding enough for it to go right through my knickers and stain my shorts - sometimes you don't get any warning." Her smile softened, the vixen leaning over to lightly nuzzle-kiss her husband's ruffed cheek. "Fortunately there was a knight in shining rust-orange fur there to save all my blushes - he accompanied me while I got a pad and gave me his shorts, too."

Gerald's ears dipped slightly, a sure sign he was embarrassed. "Well, I wasn't about to leave you like that, now was I? That must have been mortifying, Han..."

"Must have been," Tamsin agreed, eyes round with horror at the thought.

"Just a little, but doing the rest of the lesson in your underpants can't have been much better."

"I lived." Gerry was chuckling richly at the memory. "Although, I could have done with a little less giggling from certain parties..."

"Well, if you would wear pink pants," Hannah snickered.

"Pink?!" Tam and Max squeaked, spluttering with laughter.

"Not my fault they got put in with a colour wash," Gerald responded, a little defensively, albeit with a twinkle in his eye.

"You still wore them, Gerry! To school!"

"It was either them or a pair that looked like they'd been really badly tie-dyed; not much of a choice. Besides, I really wasn't expecting to be putting them on parade like that..."

Max and Tam were now weeping and gasping with mirth, slumped against one another around the child seat, foreheads touching and sides shaking. Hannah shook her head gently, chuckling softly as she reached over to squeeze her mate's paw as it rested on the gear lever.

"I'm very sorry I offended your delicate sensibilities, dear. I promise never to laugh at your pink pants again."

Two sets of eyes almost popped out of their respective heads.

"You still wear them?!" Max squawked, incredulously.

"Nonononono!" Gerry shook his head vehemently, then loosed a lazy grin. "I prefer orange nowadays, on the rare occasions I actually wear any. Now..." He paused, waiting patiently for the laughter to die down again. "Eyes front, please, and take in your home for the summer."

"Ooh!" Both twins shifted smartly forward, pressing as close together as they comfortably could without disturbing the child seat's occupant and looping an arm around each other as they eagerly leaned between the front seats.

The tunnel was long gone and the trees had thinned out shortly after, the drive now running arrow-straight through gently rolling grassland dotted with the occasional stately oak or ash. More of those pinpoint lights hung like raindrops from staves that curved sharply over at the top, spaced evenly along the sides of the track in neat pairs, leading the eye slowly but surely toward the looming mass of the house.

Most of it they could barely make out so thick and pervasive was the darkness by now, aided and abetted by a drifting, steadily deepening drizzle; all they could make out was a vague impression of many tall gables, at least three rows of windows, maybe four, a steep roof, and a frontage almost as long as their entire terrace. The single clearly visible bit was the entrance, a classical portico almost half as tall as the house itself, the pillars smooth and tapering, the pediment elegantly arched with a teardrop light the size of a head clinging to the front, angled down towards the flagstones below. The door in the middle of all this, a tall, broad, inches thick slab of glistening wood, stood open, two figures framed inside it.

They padded swiftly forward, side by side, as Gerald drew to a gentle halt alongside another car, a gleaming classic from at least sixty years ago, as grand and elegant a vehicle as Max had ever set eyes on.

"Good to see old Bessie's still in fine fettle," Gerry remarked, with a smile, unlatching his belt and opening his door to spring out. "Wonder if she still drives?"

"Yes, like a dream!" That was the husky voice again, this time coming from the foremost of the fast approaching figures, both their mustelid faces wreathed in smiles. "Now hurry up and get inside before you get soaked through!"

"Aye-aye, Captain Ma'am!" Gerald responded, lunging from his seat and hustling round to the rear of the car, herding a slightly nonplussed Max, the bag of clothes clutched to his chest, before him. "Grab as many bags as you can, love."

The cub nodded, managing to collect three of the smaller pieces of luggage, one over his shoulder, the others dangling from a paw apiece, then stepped back to let his father haul out the two largest cases. An equally bemused Tamsin came to stand alongside him, her gait just a little stiff, cradling the still sleeping form of the youngest Robertson in her arms. Max hastily shuffled the luggage he held, trying to free a paw to loop around his sister, but failed pretty miserably.

Just as he was beginning to whimper in frustration gentle hands relieved him of one and a maternal voice murmured into his ear. "I've got this - you get them into the house, all right?"

He nodded again, earning a soft ruffle of one ear from his mother, then curled a supporting arm about Tam's waist, getting a tired smile and an affectionate nuzzle-kiss on the cheek in response. Her small paw resting on his shoulder the twins began hustling at a half-jog toward the entrance of the house just as the mustelid ladies reached the cars. The taller of the two called out to them.

"Amelia's waiting with towels - take as many as you need."

"Thanks," both cubs responded, dipping their heads politely.

It didn't take long to reach the house, but the rain swelled rapidly, so the siblings were pretty thoroughly drenched by the time they hurried through the doorway, whereupon large, heavy, extremely fluffy towels were draped over their shoulders and smaller ones pressed into their paws courtesy of a sleek and graceful little weasel girl.

"Hi!" she chirped, bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet, her paws linked demurely behind her back and her large dark orbs of eyes turned shyly downward. "I'm Amelia."

"Nice to meet you," Max responded, vigorously applying the hand towel to the side of his head. "I'm..."

"Max, I know," she interrupted. "And Tam and Erin. Sam and Sal talk a lot about you and your Mum and Dad."

"They do?" One eye ridge lifted.

"Oh, yes!" Amelia nodded so energetically her compact head was all but a blur, the dark feather tucked behind her right ear almost coming free. "They really wanted to meet you." Her eyes dipped and a little colour tinged her cheeks, one paw settling the feather neatly back into place. "Me too."

Max, now rubbing his chest in rhythmic circles, exchanged confused glances with Tam, who was peeling young Erin's dress and panties off so gently the three year old remained blissfully asleep.

"Why so surprised?"

Both twins jumped, though more at the thump from several weighty bags falling onto the floor than the husky voice, and spun round. Erin started in Tam's arms, eyes fluttering open and a quiet cry escaping her small muzzle.

"Whoops," Gerry and both the mustelids mumbled, while Hannah just shook her head lightly, a subtle smile curving her muzzle.

"Hey, Erry," Tamsin murmured, stroking the fur between her sister's neat little ears, doing her best to still the tremor running through the child. "Nothing to fuss about."

Erin's muzzle furrowed through the fur of her elder sibling's chest, tracing up the shallow curve of the left breast to close around the petite nipple peeking from the pelt there, holding it lightly; a mere few moments later she was considerably calmer. "We there?" she asked, her high, slightly lisping voice muffled.

"Yep," Max confirmed, stroking a towel over Tam's lower back. "Safe and sound."

"Where's Han-Han?" One small paw reached out.

A larger one clasped and stroked the back of it gently. "Right here, dear. How are you?"

"Mthirsty," Erin proclaimed, loudly, with a lopsided grin around her sister's teat. "Wanna drink."

"In a little while, Erry," Hannah assured her, unbuttoning her blouse. "Once we've settled in."

"Everything's ready," one of the mustelids, from her dark tail tip a stoat, chimed in. "You've got the Herald Room, the cubs have a choice of three."

"Like we've never been away," Gerry chuckled, sloughing his shirt and trousers with visible relief, and stuffing them into the same bag that held the twin's garments.

Hannah's blouse and shorts were quick to follow, then both adult foxes took a towel from Amelia and set about rubbing the rain from their fur. At the same time Tamsin lowered Erin gently to the floor, dropping her clothes into the bulging bag then kneeling down and liberally applying a fresh, extra-soft towel to the child's rich brown pelt. The youngest Robertson giggled and wriggled a little under the tender attention, her trim tail swaying and twitching, but put up no resistance. Max, meanwhile, finally feeling more or less dry, took the chance to get his bearings after the rush, take a good long look at their surroundings.

Tall oak panels etched with intricate patterns lined all the walls; the floor was a gleaming sweep of broad oaken slats, a tall white marble statue of a vixen pride of place in the very centre; numerous vulpine oil portraits of rich, lush colour and detail gazed benignly down from all directions; to the left a broad wooden staircase climbed to a lofty mezzanine; and high above it all a ghostly white vaulted ceiling hung, almost ethereal in its delicacy. All in all, he only had one response.

"Whoa..."

"Quite something, isn't it?" a mellow, contralto voice concurred, as compact paws alighted on his shoulders and a shapely, plush-furred form pressed against his back.

"Yes," he concurred, shaking off a tingle of self-consciousness, and tilting his head back and to one side to regard the weasel smiling warmly at him, her chin nestling against the right side of his scalp...and his breath caught in his throat for an instant as he noticed the finger and a half missing from her left paw. He reached up to grasp the hand lightly, his own digits stroking the surprisingly smooth stumps. "How?"

"Childhood impulsiveness," she answered, cryptically, her full smile briefly turning wry. "Not looking before I leapt."

"Oh, OK." Max, sensing he was highly unlikely to learn any more on the subject, instead gestured toward the lofty statue. "She's beautiful. Looks like Gerald, a little."

"That's because it's his mother," the weasel answered, almost in a murmur. "He got a lot of his looks from her. And his height."

"She's life-size?" Maxwell couldn't resist padding over to the statue, realising as he did so it loomed a full two feet over him, his nose only a little higher than her navel. His eyes roamed over the figure, taking in the broad hips, the single, if full and pert main breast, the thin scar where the right one should have been, the small but well-formed pair of secondary breasts, the sweeping ears as large as Gerald's, the softly smiling face. "She was really this tall?"

The weasel strolled over to stand close alongside him, looping a paw around him to rest on his hip. "Oh yes. A veritable giantess, she was. Gentle as you like with it, though. And tough - shrugged off the cancer three times before it finally got her, and even then was smiling as she went." Her voice had grown more than a little throaty as she'd spoken. "Amazing lady; sorely missed."

"That you are and were, Sam," Gerry's voice responded from right behind them. "You and Sal."

The weasel turned on the spot, her smile widening into a beaming grin, and enfolded the fox in a deep and fulsome embrace, pressing her lips to his. "That goes both ways."

Gerald returned the embrace and lip-presses just as affectionately. "Sorry it's been so long."

"Doesn't matter, you've obviously been busy." Here her eyes, dark and sparkling, came to rest on Max as the hug loosened. "This handsome young dog looks a handful enough on his own, never mind the two girls."

"Oh, you have no idea." Gerry ruffled the ears of a son managing to pout and blush to his ear tips at the same time. "Not that I'd have him any other way. Besides" - his gaze followed Amelia as she scurried industriously off with the towels and laundry bag, disappearing through a door off to the right hand side of the room - "looks like you've got a lot on your paws, too."

"Who, Ammy?" Sam chuckled, shaking her head. "Not a bit of it - she's good as gold. Mostly."

Gerald cocked his head. "She's still...?"

Sam nodded, sighing almost inaudibly. "To the point we have to lock the doors and shut all the windows every night. Speaking of which..." She hustled away, calling over her shoulder. "Ammy will show you your rooms."

"Ok-" The stoat chose that moment to hug the breath out of him and plant a kiss on his muzzle, then hurry off after the weasel. "-ay." He grinned hugely. "Oh, it's good to be back! Now, where's..."

"This way, please," Amelia piped up, politely, rocking on her heels alongside Max.

"Efficient staff around here!" Gerry laughed, heading over to collect the two largest cases. Max's attempt to follow suit was thwarted by Hannah and Amelia, leaving him to focus on a still lightly limping Tamsin, curling a supporting arm around her waist, and Erin, who latched onto his other paw with both of hers.

"One of these days I'll figure out why she does that," he sighed, dipping his head to exchange soft nuzzles of the muzzle with the youngest Robertson.

"A mystery for the ages." Gerry chuckled, unable to pat his son, so settling for a quick kiss on the forehead instead. "Now follow the bouncing weasel."

"Aye, Sir." Max led his charges at an unhurried pace after Amelia, the youngster skipping up the stairs, the cases she held swinging around her legs, humming a shapeless but very cheerful little ditty to herself. Gerry and Hannah brought up the rear of the pack, falling into relaxed, quiet, upbeat conversation as they walked, looking more at ease than they'd been in quite some time.

At the top their energetic guide led them to the left, into a wide corridor with panelled walls, a plush carpet of pastel tan underfoot, and a surfeit of doors, all bathed in gentle yellow-white light from more of the dewdrop illuminations, hanging at regular intervals from the ceiling. It looked and felt reassuringly warm and homely, a lived-in space rather than an austere showcase like the hall; the last of the doubts lingering at the back of Max's mind faded away.

"This is more like a home," he murmured, appreciatively.

"You wait 'till you see all the rooms!" Amelia trilled from up front, flashing a grin as she vanished round a corner.

"A comfy bed and a decent view would do me fine," Tamsin put in, barely limping at all now, but making no move to separate from Max.

"No worries, there, then," Hannah assured her. "But we have to deal with your little issue, first, don't forget."

Tamsin's ears coloured. "Believe me, I haven't."

"Issue?" Amelia asked, having turned round to walk backwards, head cocked to one side. Then her eyes widened. "Oh! Oh. I wondered why you hadn't taken the skirt off. Bathroom's two more doors on the right. I'll drop these off in the Herald Room."

"Remind me to give you a tip," Gerald told her.

Amelia span back round, not quite hiding the rouging of her cheeks. "No need. Just doing my job."

"Brilliantly, thus the tip." Gerald wasn't about to be put off.

"And if Gerry doesn't manage it, I will," Hannah warned the weasel, pushing open the door of the bathroom with a shoulder. "Now, do either of you need to relieve yourself?"

Both Max and Tam nodded - it had been a long journey.

"Then hurry up while I dig out the pads. They should be in one of these cases..."

While Hannah rummaged Maxwell, after much prodding from his sister, answered nature's call, just a little frustrated at his bladder for holding far more than it really should have been able to. At the same time he watched with silent concern as Tamsin stepped out of her skirt, then wriggled out of powder blue panties visibly stained red at the lower front. Even as she followed their mother's gestures and dropped the garments into a wicker basket near the door more scarlet spotted the tiles between her feet. She clamped a hand over her nether lips, the other rubbing behind one drooping ear in a painfully self-conscious fashion.

Max cursed his bladder even more vociferously, and with his free hand balled up a generous amount of toilet paper, passing it to his sister. "This should work better than fingers."

"Much," she agreed, smiling with gratitude as she pressed the paper to her vulva. "And I swear you're starting to shrink."

"Wouldn't surprise me; this is getting ridicul-ah, finally!" With a sigh so deep he practically deflated he concluded his business in a flurry of hurried movement, then ushered Tamsin over for her turn. While she settled down he looked to their mother, and his ears sagged.

Hannah was still searching the bags, but now with more than a hint of desperation. "I could have sworn I put them in one of these," she muttered, "but all I've got are my tampons..."

"If that's all we have, I'll use one," Tamsin told her, only a trace of uncertainty in her voice. "Better that than bleeding everywhere."

"That's a last resort." Hannah wasn't giving up her search. "I'm not hurting you if I can avoid it. You do realise it'll break your hymen?"

Tam hesitated only briefly before nodding. "Yeah. I'll cope."

"Maybe they're in one of the other cases?" Max suggested, not at all keen on the tampon idea himself.

"Doubt it...but best to be sure. Would you...?"

He was out of the room before she could finish, hustling down the passage to the end of it and the only other open door. Beyond he found Gerald unfurling clothes from one of the large cases and passing them either Amelia or Erin, who tucked them into a broad and solid chest of drawers, or hung them inside a cavernous wardrobe. All three froze mid-movement to stare in bewilderment at him.

"Can't find the pads for Tam," he explained, gabbling the words just a little. "Hoping they're in one of those cases." His ears twitched as the least welcome flush he'd ever heard sounded in the background.

"Haven't seen any, but that doesn't mean they're not here." Even as he spoke, Gerry was pawing rapidly through the contents of the case closest to him, Erin hurrying to assist. "You and Ams check the other."

Max nodded, dropping to his knees in front of the second case, Amelia opposite him. Almost as one they tore through its contents, but turned up nothing. Gerald came up just as empty-handed.

"Crappit!" Max wrung his ears in frustration. "Where the crap are they?"

"Less of the language, Maxwell." His father rapped his muzzle with an admonishing finger. "And try your cases; they're on the bed."

The cub darted over, tail dragging behind him and ears drooping, and unlocked the one belonging to his sister. Right at the top sat the box of pads.

"Yes!" He snatched it up and without a word hurtled from the room, along the corridor, and back into the bathroom. Inside, Hannah was down on one knee in front of Tamsin, her right hand resting on her daughter's hip, her left holding a tampon against the girl's petite lips, obviously on the verge of easing it between them.

Max panicked, rushing forward in an attempt to stop his mother, but in the process falling over his own flailing tail and clattering heavily into her. He still managed to fling out the paw not clasping the box of pads to push Hannah's down and away from his sister's lips, only for the middle finger of that paw to press in between them just as the tampon was intended to.

"Oh, no," he whimpered, as something impossibly thin and delicate flexed under pressure from his wayward digit. It didn't give, but that was scant consolation.

Before either vixen could react he was scrambling to his feet and out the door, only to collide heavily with a soft and shapely form swathed in velvet fur barely two steps into the corridor. That treacherous paw, apparently not content with almost breaking the irreplaceable, now contrived, in its attempt to stop him falling to the carpeted floor, to not just land squarely on a plump breast but clutch it quite strongly. Oh, this was turning into a very bad night indeed...

Sally, though, made no attempt to detach his hand, instead catching hold of his hip and elbow to stabilise him, then drawing him up into an easy, cradling embrace, her dark eyes regarding him with confusion and concern.

"Now what's gotten you in such a state?" she asked, lightly stroking his back.

"He slipped," Tamsin answered, before he could, hugging him from behind, her muzzle nestling up against his. "Pressed a finger between my lips. Didn't break anything, though, and I don't care anyway."

"Really?" There was real incredulity in Max's voice. "You don't...?"

Two fingers muffled him. "Nope. Trust you too much."

"I'll say," he chuckled softly, feeling a little more comfortable. His sister's phrasing made him curious, but he stored the questions away for later use. "You and everyone else."

The warm laugh of their mother rang out behind them, and her paw ruffled the fur between his ears. "Well, if you will make it so easy."

"I do?"

"You do." Tamsin replied, squeezing him, and nudging his nose with hers. "Something to do with not being able to harm a fly, I think."

"Not sure about that," Max contested, letting slip a wry smile. "What about the snail I stepped on last week?"

"What, the one you apologised to afterwards?" she teased, eyes not leaving him for a moment.

"And tried to piece the shell of back together," Gerald added, now standing close by, Erin held to his left hip, Amelia his right.

Sam guffawed, releasing Max and stepping away, paws linked behind her back as she regarded him with her sharp head tilted to the right. "Really? And I thought Sal was a softie."

"Silly, huh?" Max mumbled, as he looked at his toes, not entirely comfortable with being at the centre of so much attention.

"No," Tamsin answered, with iron conviction, squeezing him again.

"You're just saying that 'cause you're my sister," Max protested, weakly, one part of him insisting he should be wriggling free of her grip, another, markedly larger part ensuring he pressed closer to her instead. "You don't mean it..."

"Yes I do," Tam insisted, cheerily, kissing the side of his muzzle. "Now can you stop being silly and help me pick a room before I doze off in the corridor?"

Max laughed, nodded, and eased out of her embrace, turning to face her. He paused just long enough to take in the small, thin pad clinging to the fur between her hips, then held a paw out to her. She ignored it, much preferring to lean lightly against his side and curl an arm around his waist. Max sighed, shook his head lightly, and looked over his shoulder to Sam. Or, rather, the empty corridor where Sam had formerly been.

"Where'd she...?" both cubs began, eyes widening.

"Come on, you two," Gerry beckoned, already heading further down the passage. "Before we all doze off in the corridor."

Max and Tam shared a glance, bemused by his complete disinterest in the magical disappearing weasel, then with matching shrugs set off after their father. Hannah followed close behind them, a small smile flowing across her lips.

At the door to the Herald Room - identified by a small, brass plaque in the shape of a powerful, nude male fox blowing a long horn from which a banner hung, Max now noticed - Gerald stopped, and looked to Amelia.

"The one opposite and the two at the end, right?"

The weasel nodded, her eyelids drooping, her head lolling against his, but still smiling. "Gonna be a hard choice."

"Take a look - quickly - then come and tell us which one you want," Hannah suggested, patting both cubs lightly on the shoulder.

"Okay," the children chorused, nodding, then moved off in different directions.

Tamsin simply ambled across the passage, easing open the nearest door and peering inside, while Max headed at a jog right to the end, oscillating briefly between the two choices before going for the room to his left. This door's plaque depicted a sleek, nude (there's a theme here, he thought) vixen with a sheaf of foolscap paper in one paw and a quill in the other - Poet Room, perhaps?

He pushed his way inside, to find himself awash in a sea of palest lavender - the thick carpet (his feet sank almost an inch into it) the light, almost translucent curtains, the gossamer canopies draped around the top of the lean four-poster bed, the subtly swirl-patterned wallpaper, all the same soft, pastel shade of purple. Combined with the light blond tone of the minimal furniture - the bed, a chest of drawers, a wardrobe and a dresser, all tall and thin and possessed of far more swooping curves than seemed entirely necessary - it all looked lovely indeed, but delicate as bone china. Not a room he'd be comfortable living in, that was for sure.

Turning to exit, he found Tamsin peering in through the doorway. She looked about as taken with the chamber as he did.

"What's the one opposite Gerry and Han's room like?" he asked.

"Dark. Heavy. Brown." She shook her head. "Oppressive, especially with such big furniture and the brawny statue in the corner. I'd have trouble sleeping in there." She loosed a small sigh. "And in here. Not looking very good."

"Maybe the last one's better," Max suggested, ushering her out.

Tam looked far from convinced (to be fair, so was he) but let him guide her to the last door. They didn't open it right away, though, taken somewhat aback by the plaque, which took the form of not one but two foxes, a boy cub and a girl cub, slightly younger than them, and standing with arms tightly linked. The girl held a key, the boy a book. The twins exchanged bemused glances, then twisted round to aim long, searching gazes at their parents. Innocent, if faintly amused, smiles were all they got in return.

Sighing, Max pushed the door open and led Tam in by the paw, only to halt abruptly after two steps, eyes widening. Tamsin walked into his back with an audible thump, but her exclamation died on her lips as she took in the room. The golden ochre carpet beneath their feet was the thickest yet, and soft as belly fur, the wallpaper was a slightly lighter hue and the texture of clouds and the ceiling a gleaming white. The furniture - a three-drawer chest, a broad-shouldered wardrobe, a square table with matching chairs, and a truly immense four-poster bed, its thick drapes the same colour as the carpet - was as spartan as the Poet Room, but of a solidly built, pleasantly careworn variety, the golden oak buffed to a shine in places by many paws over many years.

"Oh, now this is more like it!" Tamsin beamed, bouncing over to the bed to gaze enraptured at its centrepiece - a back board entirely taken up by a life-size, relief depiction of the same two cubs as the door plaque, carved in immaculate detail, even down to the ebb and flow of their fur. "This is just gorgeous..."

"Can we assume you've come to a decision?" enquired a voice that patently already knew the answer.

Max and Tam turned as one to reply to their father. "Yes!"

"Good choice," Hannah grinned, setting their cases down to one side of the door.

"Easy choice," Max responded, hopping up onto the bed and settling down on his stomach, legs kicking up over his bottom, arms tucked under his chin, gazing up at the backboard carving, finding it quite easy to imagine himself and Tam in the place of the cubs.

Tamsin, meanwhile, padded over to the window to the side of the bed, parting the curtains just enough to peer outside. Beyond the heavily rain-slicked glass, though, all she saw was a world of murky black. A flash of sheet lightning gave her an almost subliminal glimpse of a colossal, brooding mass of dark stone and set her stumbling back, muzzle gaping and ears flattening. Trembling perceptibly, her thick fur fluffing up a little, she hastily slid onto the bed, curling up against an equally unsettled Max.

"I wouldn't worry so much," Hannah soothed, moving over to sit at the rear of the bed, back against the board, paws loosely folded in her lap. "The walls and windows are so thick you'll barely hear it even when its right overhead."

Neither twin looked even close to convinced and a muted, drawn-out rumble from somewhere not nearly distant enough did nothing at all to help matters.

"Besides, an earthquake couldn't shift this old pile," Gerald chimed in, setting himself down alongside his wife. "And don't you want your tip, young lady?"

This last was addressed to Amelia, the weasel cub currently failing to sneak out of the room. At Gerry's words and gentle beckoning with one paw she somewhat sheepishly padded back over to him, standing alongside the bed in the familiar demure, hands-behind-back pose.

Gerry leaned forward, planting a firm kiss between her bashful eyes. "Thank you very much for your help."

Hannah leaned over her husband to do the same then, not wanting to be left out, little Erin bounded up onto the bed, caught a startled Amelia's head in both her paws, and pressed her lips hard against the weasel's for several long seconds. Amelia blushed for an instant, then burst out in giggles. With an elegant curtsey she spun on the spot and jogged outside, easing the door closed behind her.

"Charming girl," Hannah remarked, with a soft smile. "Really takes after her mothers." Her gaze shifted to settle on the chocolate brown vixen now sitting astride her legs, staring beseechingly up at her, the smile turning wry. "I'm guessing I can't tempt you with apple juice or a glass of water?"

Erin shook her head, firmly enough to set her ears waggling gently.

"Going for Max's record, I swear." She sighed, let slip a warm chuckle. "All right - come here."

The youngest Robertson shuffled eagerly forward until her belly was pressing tight against her mother's, then her small paws very gently took hold of Hannah's left breast and her neat muzzle closed over the pale pink nipple at the summit.

Hannah smiled lovingly down at her, cradling her daughter close as she softly suckled. "Gentle as can be. By the way" - her eyes flicked up to look at her other two children - "there's plenty to go round, if anyone else is thirsty."

Tamsin gave a firm shake of the head, but a dry-throated Max found himself sorely tempted; it took no small amount of willpower to shake his head too, ears dipping. "I'd better not."

His twin nestled her nose up against his. "Started again?"

"No, but with my rotten luck..." He rolled onto his back, attempting to best the urge by simply not looking at Hannah or Erin, but it wasn't long at all before his head was tilting back and his eyes were fixed on them both. "Ah, flibbertigibit..."

He all but scrambled over, nestling between his father (who ruffled an affectionate paw over his ears) and his mother. While he cupped her free breast in one paw to angle it toward him she curled an arm around him, the hand coming to rest on his hip, fingers twining into the fur. Max eased the gleaming golden ring from her nipple then carefully took the latter into his mouth, intending only to have a sip or two. The instant the first pulse of warm milk slipped down his throat, though, somehow conspiring to be even more delicious than the last time he'd tasted it, all thought of moderation rapidly vanished and he set to drinking in earnest.

Hannah chuckled, nuzzle-kissing his forehead, while Tamsin rolled her eyes even as she moved to settle in Gerald's lap, her back against his chest, her legs atop his.

Gerry embraced her lightly, linked hands resting on her belly, smiling muzzle between her ears. "I really must thank Nick when he gets back. I've not enjoyed nearly enough of this of late."

"None of us have," Hannah responded, licking a trace of milk from the side of Erin's short snout, the thoroughly sated cub now drowsing against her stomach, head pillowed on one of her secondary breasts. "We're all too busy running to stand still; even the twins, with all the homework."

"Far too much, I know." Gerald concurred, a little ire flashing in his eyes. "Believe me, it's not fun to set it, either." He exhaled, expression softening. "So, now we have a gilt-edged chance to be a proper family for a while, I'm going to make the most of it."

Hannah directed a coyly hopeful gaze his way. "I hope that includes a little 'us' time."

Gerry's muzzle split in a roguish grin. "Oh, I guarantee that, fair lady."

Hannah murred softly, her pale eyes briefly glazing over as her smile turned dreamy and distant. "My hero..."

Tamsin giggled behind a paw. "Fairy Tales, now?"

Gerry playfully bopped her between the ears with the underside of his muzzle. "No making fun of your sappy parents, Tam, on pain of tickle torture; besides, it's more rakish outlaw and feisty maid at the moment."

Tamsin giggled harder. "You'd look good in a feathered cap."

"Really?" Gerald beamed, kissing her ear. "You think I'd cut it as a dashing rogue?"

"Definitely," Max put in, a little drowsily, kissing Hannah's breast and cheek by way of thanks, carefully working the ring back through her nipple, then rolling over to lean against his father.

Gerry dipped his head to lick a trickle of milk from the corner of his son's muzzle. "I may have to try and find one while we're here, then."

"Definitely!" Hannah enthused, eyes shining. "I think there's a place you can get one in town."

"Right - Harmisons." Gerry nodded. "If it's still there, of course. Even if it is, I doubt it's the same place it was. Probably gone all corporate and cold, now."

"Town?" Tamsin asked.

"Fenmouth. Lovely place. Least, it was." Gerald's paws began softly kneading and stroking the fur of his daughter's stomach. "Big, active harbour; nice range of big shops; nicer range of smaller, quirky shops tucked away in hidden corners; best chippy in the whole county. Now, though, I fear it'll all be chain stores and coffee shops. Still, you don't know 'till you look, so that we'll do some time this week, I think. Now, talking of things t...hello, what have we here...?" His paws had frozen over two spots a little below the small bumps of her breasts. "Well, whaddaya know - I think you're growing a second set of mammaries, my girl! That's wonderful!"

"I am?" Tamsin's eyes widened violently, and her hands pushed aside those of her father to feel for herself - beneath both of her secondary nipples there were indeed mounds starting to bud. "I am! I don't believe it! I-I didn't think I would..."

"Well, you are," Hannah responded, positively beaming. "Fairly sure you get that from me. Don't expect them to work, though - they never lactate. Never grow very big, either." Here she patted her own apple-sized examples.

"Still pretty cool," Max put in, stroking a digit over his sister's nearest bump, while her fingers explored her tertiary teats, either side of and slightly higher than her navel.

"No third row, though," she noted, just a touch of disappointment creeping in.

Gerry chuckled, kissing her forehead. "Doesn't surprise me - no-one's ever had one. Now, back on subject - tomorrow. In the morning we'll show you around the house and a little of the estate; in the afternoon we'll head to the village - Cotteford, before you ask - and introduce you to Ted, Rosalyn and Rupert. If there's enough time there's a little something I'd like to show you nearby, as well. Any questions?"

Both twins shook their heads.

"Good." He yawned deeply, eyelids beginning to droop. "Not sure I can stay awake long enough to repeat it." With paws at her hips he gently slid Tamsin from his lap, then himself from the bed, yawning deeply as he stood up. "I'll just ask a goodnight kiss from you both..."

His son and daughter pressed their lips to either side of his muzzle, hugging him fulsomely at the same time.

"And then I'll call it a night. Coming, dear?"

Hannah nodded, gathering the now fast asleep Erin into her arms, exchanging soft nuzzle-kisses with the twins then getting to her feet and retrieving a small butterfly night light from Max's case, plugging it into a socket near the bed. "We'll see you bright and early in the morning, loves. Goodnight."

"Goodnight!" Max and Tam responded as their parents made their way outside, Gerald turning the lights off and easing the door closed.

With the illumination reduced to a pale blue wash over the bed, and the grumbles and rumbles of the thunder a frequent presence in the background, the two cubs were quick to duck under the sheets and huddle close together, muzzles nestled into each other's necks.

"So who do you think it was, then?" Tamsin asked her sibling, after a moment. "In the guardhouse, I mean."

Max started, pulling back enough to stare at her in bug-eyed shock. "You saw something too?"

"Yeah. A face. Looked like a fox, or maybe a wolf."

Max nodded as best as he could. "Yeah, that was it. Just...staring over the road, into the fields." He settled back into the crook of his sister's neck. "It was there and gone so fast I wasn't sure I'd seen it, let alone anyone else. Nice to know I'm not going crazy..."

"You're not. Not unless we both are."

An especially loud and long burst of thunder set both the twins to shivering, and clutching each other just that fraction tighter.

"Stupid storm," Tam muttered, darkly. "I'll never get to sleep now..."

"I think it was a ghost."

If it was a distraction tactic, it worked. "A ghost?"

"Well, what else could it have been? A person couldn't have just winked out like that."

"So we're spending the whole summer in a haunted house? Lovely. Remind me never to walk around here at night..."

"Think we should ask Han and Gerry about it?"

"Might as well - worst they'll do is tease us."

"All right - we'll ask before we head off to look around the place, if we can. Speaking of - hope we get to see the lake. Maybe even go for a swim."

Tamsin laughed almost inaudibly. "You and your swimming. If I didn't know any better I'd swear you were part otter. You're certainly good enough to be."

"No, I'm not," Max protested, cheeks warming a little. "Not really."

"Yes, really!" Tam insisted. "Proper furry little porpoise, you are. You swim rings around everyone."

"Not everyone. You're no slouch, either. I bet you could outpace me if you really tried."

"No chance, furpedo."

"Good chance. Tell you what - if we do get to swim tomorrow, we'll race, and I bet you'll win."

"All right - you're on. But no holding back."

"Wouldn't dream of it."

"Good." Her ear flattened against her skull as yet another long and voluble surge of thunder sounded overhead. "Guess the storm's here to stay."

Max's followed suit, accompanied by a strong tremor of his own. "Sounds like it." He let out a quiet groan. "It's gonna keep us up all night, I just know it..."

Tamsin settled a paw in the small of her brother's back, just above the base of his tail, the fingers ruffling through the fur to very lightly rub the skin beneath. The effect was instantaneous, almost all of the tension draining right out of his muscles, his body settling limp and loose against hers. Not to be outdone, Max set one of his paws to kneading the nape of her neck, where her lush fur was at its thickest, and she in turn relaxed dramatically.

"Hey, Tam," Max ventured.

"Yeah?"

"About earlier..."

"Your little accident?" He could practically hear her grin. "I told you I don't care. Even if you had broken my hymen I wouldn't care. Much."

"What?!" Max pulled back, gaping at his sister. "B-but...you said you didn't want it broken until you were twenty or more..."

"Yeah, but I always knew it might get broken before then, one way or another, and I'd rather if it did it was by Han, or Gerry, or Erin, or you than the other ways." She kissed him tenderly on the nose, causing his whiskers to twitch. "With any of you, especially you, it would only hurt a little. Actually, you know what?" She chuckled, gathering Max closer to her to nuzzle his snout and cheek. "I'd kinda expected Erin to be the one to break my hymen - she's so inquisitive and she can be so clumsy when she looks at me down there. You were a close second."

"My blundering stupidity, huh?" Max half-muttered, half-laughed, his tension fading slowly but surely.

"No, pretty much what you did tonight - well-meaning mistake. You didn't break it, though, so all's good."

"You sure?" Max asked. "You're sure I didn't...scratch or scape you or something inside?"

"Pretty sure - feels fine," Tamsin reassured him, kissing his eyebrow and running her fingers along his spine. "Feel free to check if you don't believe me. There's a torch in my bag."

It didn't take long at all for Max to decide. "Best to be sure, especially with my lifeline." He pressed a warm kiss to her lips. "Back before you can say psuedoantidisestablismentarianism." He'd wriggled out of her arms and the bed before he'd finished uttering the monster word.

Tam laughed. "As if. Psuedoantidisestablishmentariani-" She was cut off by Max kissing her again, a torch clutched in his paw. "Darnit."

Once her twin had settled cross-legged on the sheets she lay on her back, her bottom resting on his lap, tilting her haunches up enough to give him comfortable access to her modest vulva; at the same time he passed her a pillow to place under her head, angling it so she had a good view of proceedings.

Max peeled away her pad with the greatest of care, set it beneath her to catch any blood that might well out, then flicked the small, red torch on and focused it's fine beam on her lower lips, regarding them in thoughtful silence for a few moments, a single finger stroking the short, dense, mossy fur that coated both her outer labia. It finally came to rest where they met, over a whisker thin streak of pale pink.

"You know, I think your vulva's nicer looking than Han's," he told her. "It's lovely. Neat and tidy and lovely. You don't seem to be bleeding right now, either; maybe it comes and goes."

"Oh, imagine if Mr Gregory could see us now," Tamsin giggled, colour coming to her ears. "He'd lose his mind!"

Max laughed as well. "Yeah, if me kissing you as we pass in the hall is enough to get him ranting about incest I hate to think how he'd react to this. Scream himself into a coma, probably. Anyway..."

Carefully he eased his sister's neat outer and delicate inner lips quite widely apart, focussing his light and his scrutinising eyes on the small entrance to her vagina and the gossamer-thin membrane that covered all of it bar a tiny hole in the middle, looking for any sign of damage.

A completely relaxed Tam watched on, smiling gently, quite enjoying being doted over. "So, are the inside bits as nice looking as the outside ones?" she asked, conversationally. "Or are they the dull, damp mess I think they are?"

Max looked up briefly, looking at her askance. "Dull, damp mess?" He shook his head. "No, they're every bit as lovely as the outside. More so, even. Like a...a flower lightly glistening with dew."

Tamsin yipped a laugh. "Been reading Gerry's poetry books again?"

"Just saying what I see," Max insisted, a little embarrassed. "Can't see any damage, by the way."

"Told you!" Tam grinned. "Even when you're clumsy you're gentle."

"Or just lucky." Relief swathed his face. "Really lucky." He stroked her folds closed with the greatest of care then rested his paw over their shallow swell in a manner both cosseting and protective, fingers and thumb dimpling the plush fur, a wry grin growing. "I'm actually kinda jealous of your genitals, Tam. You get a beautiful pastel flower, I get a dead midget chicken. Not fair."

His twin shook with mirth, biting her lip to stop herself laughing out loud. "Yeah, it's not a looker," she agreed, "but at least your chicken doesn't hurt and bleed every month."

Max's ears dipped, and his voice grew quieter. "No, just when Cor's feeling really vicious."

All the amusement deserted Tam at this, the vixen propping herself up more to stare in horror at her brother. "When was this?"

"About a week ago. He cornered me in an empty classroom, held me against a wall with one paw, pulled my trousers and pants down and slammed his knee into my groin. His girlfriend had just dumped him, I think, so he needed someone to take his anger out on and I was in the wrong place at the wrong time."

"So that's why you were late coming out...and why you were walking strangely. You hadn't banged your hip at all... Oh, Max..." She tried to sit up but a firm paw pressed on her chest, between her breasts, and held her in place. "I wanna look - make sure you're okay!"

"In a minute. Just let me put your pad back first."

"All right, all right. Yeesh - you're worse than Han."

"Well pardon me for caring." He stuck his tongue out, smoothing the pad back over her vulva. "There. Now..."

He passed her the torch then simply sat back, arms at his sides, while his twin pushed herself up and over onto her belly and shuffled close, flicking the beam on and focusing all of her attention on his compact penis and testicles. She quickly picked out half a dozen small, thin cuts furrowing the trim fur of both; that they were scabbed over was scant comfort to her.

"Did he have barbed wire around his knee?" she asked, horrified.

"No, a scuffed up old skateboard pad. Lots of ragged edges."

"Why didn't you tell anyone?"

"No proof. No-one saw it happen. And he...he..."

"He what?" Tamsin prompted, both her hands now cupping his penis and testicles, all but enclosing them in protective warmth.

"He..." Max swallowed, not looking at her, his ears fully limp, his eyes watering. "Threatened you...if I told anyone...and not with a beating. I couldn't...couldn't..."

Tamsin physically recoiled at the implication, a chill running down her back, revulsion curdling in her gut. Unconsciously she curled right into herself, tail wrapping around as much of her now badly shivering form as it could. "You mean...? He really...?"

"Yeah. Why do you think I've been so clingy lately? I...just...couldn't bear to think... I love you too much..." Max was openly crying now. "I love you much too much to let him even get near..." He buried his face in his paws, sobbing silently. "I ca-can't protect you, but...maybe I can take your place..."

"What...?" Tamsin's head jerked up, shock flooding her eyes as she focused them on him. "Take my p...? Oh, Max..."

"I love you too much," her twin repeated, almost inaudibly.

Tam, tears of her own now flowing forth, though for quite different reasons, uncoiled and literally flung herself at her brother in one rapid movement. Incapable of any speech for the moment she settled for hugging her twin tightly and kissing and nuzzling his face, gestures he unhesitatingly returned.

"We have to tell Gerry, you know," she murmured, eventually. "Even if we don't have proof."

"I know." He nodded. "Should have done when it happened. Will do tomorrow. Now I'm gonna sleep like a furry log." He slipped from his sister's arms and under the sheets. "Join me?"

Tamsin did, quickly and fluidly, this time nestling in with her back to his chest. His arms curled around her torso, one paw settling over her vulva, and his muzzle settled into her neck.

"Goodnight," she murmured, kissing him softly on the lips.

"Goodnight," he responded, kissing her just as tenderly back.

Contrary to their shared worries they were both deeply asleep with a matter of minutes.

Max barely woke in time. A fraction before he let loose he jerked awake, gasping and shivering, an ache so acute it almost burned throbbing in his bladder. One paw fumbled around his hips, the sheets and his sister's hips; relief crashed over him on finding all three dry and unsoiled.

"Too close," he husked. "Crapping toilet dreams..."

Very carefully he eased himself away from his sister and sat up, to find the room bathed in almost total darkness; he could barely see his fingers in front of his face. The cub trailed a paw out to the night light, but no amount of tapping it and flicking the switch alongside brought it back to life.

"Oh, great," Max moaned, under his breath. "This could be painful..."

Pulling his legs out from under the sheets he swung them over the side of the bed and lowered them tentatively, until wriggling toes sank into thick carpet. Standing up, he began inching his way, both arms outstretched, in the direction he hoped the door lay. Three shuffling steps later a soft light bloomed into being behind him, revealing the wall he was a pace away from smacking into.

Max twisted round where he stood, a hundred different possibilities running through his head, but none came even close to the reality. In front of the window, at about the height of his father's head, and thus about a foot over his, hung a tiny, luminous, gently pulsing ball of palest yellow. It wasn't so bright it was uncomfortable to look at - nowhere near - but bright enough to illuminate most of the room.

"I'm dreaming," he decided, rubbing his eyes. "I haven't woken up."

The light ball drifted silently over to him, dipping just enough so that when it came to a halt it was hovering directly over his nose, sending an electric tingle through it and the fur around it.

"Okay, you're real." He was only just managing to repress the urge to reach up and touch it. "So what do you want...?"

The orb floated to the door, and that was when Max remembered his bladder was about to explode.

"You want to help me...?"

The light bobbed once. He took it as a yes.

"All right - if you insist." He glanced at the bed, reassured to find his sister still sleeping soundly, then hustled over to the door, easing it open and slipping outside.

In the corridor he broke into a messy half-jog, half run along to the bathroom, the ball of light pacing him effortlessly, always a fraction ahead. Shouldering the door open he scrambled to the toilet and blessed release.

"Oh, that's better!" He was physically sagging with relief. "No more drinks before bed for me."

It took a fair while for his bladder to drain completely, but the light remained patiently waiting above and slightly behind him until he was done. Paws washed and flush pulled, he ambled back out to the passage, closing the bathroom door behind him. At the same time, as if the soft click of the catch were a signal, his tiny companion suddenly streaked away from him, back towards the entrance hall.

"Hey!" Max yelped, panicked, then clamped a paw over the end of his muzzle. Several agonising moments of silence ticked by as he strained to hear any movement, any sign that he'd disturbed anyone, his ears tautly erect. Thankfully, nothing stirred.

"Stupid," he muttered, smacking his forehead. He looked at the light, now hovering quite a distance from him. "What are you doing?"

It darted back over to him, hovering right in front of his eyes for a split second, then zipped away again. Max just blinked in confusion, completely unable to understand what it wanted. It had to repeat the performance three more times before things began to click into place for the young fox.

"You want me to follow...?"

Several, rapid dips.

Max ran the fingers of one paw through his scalp fur. "Ahhhh... I'll probably regret this, but... I'll follow you. Lead on."

The light bobbed in a manner that looked distinctly eager, then set off at a brisk pace. Max kept close to it, his pulse quickening just a touch, his mind abuzz with possibilities, some positive, some anything but. He tried to focus on the former, but with little luck. It didn't help that asking his guide wasn't an option, at least as far as he knew.

Fortunately for his nerves, the orb didn't lead him all that far, just to a room right at the beginning of the passage, the door's plaque bearing the image of a thin, lithe, almost androgynous fox standing with head bowed and paws behind back in front of a broad, heavily stylised oak tree.

"In here, huh?"

The light dipped in affirmation.

"All right." Max squared his shoulders and gripped the handle. "Hope it's worth it."

He pushed the door open firmly and stepped inside, the sphere zipping ahead again. It settled in the middle of the chamber, directly over a white marble statue almost as large as the one in the hall, depicting in equally rich detail the same near-sexless (if it wasn't for the penis, Max wouldn't have known it was male) fox of the door plaque. At life size his rake-thin physique was even more pronounced, as was the gentle melancholia of his posture, head low, eyes closed, ears dipped and compact tail flat against the back of his legs. He looked, to Max, like a younger, more wiry, and much more feminine version of Gerald.

"Wonder what he's got to be so depressed about?" Max murmured, his fascination for the figure almost completely overriding nerves and caution.

The light left it's perch above the statue, flying swiftly to the left-hand wall and the small, plain book stand up against it, the only furniture in the room. A single sheet of paper rested on it, a little faded, a little worn, but perfectly legible. As Max craned over it the orb descended, ensuring the neat, flowing, curlicue-laden writing was clear and easy to read.

I wish I'd never done it. I wish I'd let her be. No matter how well-intentioned I was, I was wrong. I've damaged her irreversibly, tainted her for life, and to what end? She's not free; she never will be; and it's all because of me and my misguided charity. I've poisoned this most delicate and pure of flowers before she's fully bloomed, and I will never forgive myself for it.

But...

But what if I had left well enough alone? Wouldn't she be worse off still? I dread to think what might have become of her had her family accepted his proposal rather than mine. However much damage I've caused, he surely would have caused tenfold more. Maybe I can find some small grain of comfort in that...

But I doubt it. However carefree and gay she may seem - she's dancing amid the flowers and grass even now, even as I gaze out of this window - I know it's just a façade. It has to be.

She's seen me. She's smiling. Laughing. Waving. Beckoning.

I shouldn't go. I've done enough damage already. Too much. And yet, I can't resist that smile. It seems so genuine...so heartfelt. So beautiful.

I shouldn't go...but I will...

Max turned to gaze at the statue, knowing the words were his; he couldn't begin to fathom what the lean fox could possibly have done to trigger them, though. He shook his head, forcing himself not to dwell - bed beckoned.

"Something else to ask Gerry tomorrow," he decided, heading for the door. "Now unless you've got anything else to show me, I have a warm sister to get back to."

The light simply kept pace with him, remaining slightly ahead of him the whole way back to his room. It hovered patiently in place as he slid back under the sheets and cuddled closely up to the still soundly sleeping Tamsin. Cocooned by the snug warmth of the bed linen and his twin's plush fur he drifted off in mere moments, in spite of his wildly spinning mind.

The orb lingered for several minutes afterwards, then bobbed once, and winked out of existence.