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An elder, female lioness slowly mounts the small, elevated platform upon which stands a lectern. Her tawny fur is flecked with gray, but her speed of movement is not because of infirmity; respect for this solemn occasion dictates her pace. The makeshift stage is erected outdoors under a calm, sunny sky adjacent to a modest cemetery that is rapidly growing in size as work crews labor to dig enough graves to bury the abundant dead. A long black dress covers the she-cat's frame, her golden hair is tied up in tight bun at the back of her head, and her tail swishes nervously behind her.

Candice is the de facto leader of what is left of a city nearly destroyed by war. So much of the normal chain of command is gone that the task has fallen on her slender shoulders. None of the endeavors of her life have deliberately prepared her for this task. A series of tragic events have placed her here. A healer is what she has always been, trained by her order to provide comfort to those in need regardless of their furry heritage. Though reluctant to lead, her new role has given her the chance today to provide what she hopes will be some healing words before she becomes consumed with the reconstruction of the shattered lives of this land's people.

Placing the sheaf of notes she carries down on the lectern, she observes that someone thought to place there a polished red stone the size of her heart to hold her papers in place so they wouldn't blow away in the light breeze. The poignancy of that tiny, but considerate, gesture brings a tear to her eye. Looking out upon the small crowd of mourners, she knows the size of the gathering is not a true expression of the love and affection that is felt for the departed. Too many were lost in the battle, and many who survived were not able to make it today to show their gratitude. Those that did make it are enough. The word of what is said here today will spread to the other survivors and be recorded in this city's history and taught to all of their descendants. She will see to that.

Clearing her throat to capture their attention, she addresses the crowd. "Thank you for coming today. I know that most of you lost someone close or have suffered grievous injuries yourselves." There is a rustling and shuffling of bodies in the crowd as the wounded respond to this reminder of their hurts. An eclectic assortment of furs is present: felines, canines, bovines, equines, mustelids, rodents and many more, perhaps four score in total. Many still wear the armor and carry the swords and pikes they were forced to acquire and now are unsure how put down. The diversity of this assemblage reflects on the city and the surrounding land's cosmopolitan nature. It is an important crossroads for trade, and hence, a tempting target for invaders.

"The reason for this gathering is two fold. Firstly, we are here to mourn the loss of one of our greatest citizens, Samantha Star-Iko. I know that it may seem impossible that someone like hir who was such a powerful and vibrant part of our community, someone who seemed to possess eternal youth and vigorous health, someone who time seemed unable to slow or to harm, could die. Yet, here we are facing that reality together. Secondly, we have gathered to recognize and honor hir many accomplishments during the time shi was with us and hir single greatest sacrifice that saved us all from the deprivations of a ruthless enemy.

"Some of you were not present to witness that sacrifice. Let me recount hir remarkable deed for you now so that you can carry the knowledge with you to the end of your days." Candice pauses a moment to gather her thoughts before continuing with her tale. "Our defenses were in ruins, our army annihilated, and we were outnumbered ten to one. The main gate to the city was about to fall when Samantha revealed to us hir plan to..."

A short, trim, and dapperly dressed white fox named Hvitur sits in the back row. Though his clothes are neat and tidy, it is obvious that he has recently suffered grievous injuries. He has tried, with his wide brimmed hat, to cover the bandages that envelop half his head. His left arm is bound tightly to his chest, leaving the sleeve of his jacket to dangle empty at his side. Blood has recently oozed from a wound on his right thigh staining his otherwise immaculately pressed trousers.

He stops paying attention to the speech and begins to daydream instead. He was there when Sam saved them all. He knows what shi did and why shi did it. They both knew shi wasn't coming back. Their goodbyes were said at that pivotal moment of the battle. What could this eulogy provide to him that he didn't already know and hadn't already resolved in his psyche?

He had been intimately associated with Samantha for much of the twenty years that shi had lived among the people of this land. They had met in a tavern shortly after hir arrival. The appropriateness of that setting made him smile forlornly. Shi had been a wild and untamed vixen and remained one up until the day shi died. It was what he loved about hir. Hvitur had also been wilder then, long before he became the respected businessman he is today. Back then, he was just a clerk working as an apprentice to a merchant.

His drinking buddies pointed out the tall, red and white vixen to him, snickering about how shi was a hermaphrodite. That seemed to amuse them, but something about hir in addition to hir unusual sexuality intrigued Hvitur enough to cause him to abandon his friends, approach hir table where shi sat alone, and sit across from hir. He had never forgotten their initial words. Shi didn't even let him speak first. Instead, shi cut him off before he could say his carefully prepared introductory line.

Shi locked hir eyes defiantly with his as she spoke. "Don't even open your mouth unless you are tough enough to go the distance."

Hir words were what writers call foreshadowing. That single sentence and the white fox's response set the tone for the rest of their years together.

He replied with a reckless and cavalier rejoinder. "Maybe I could have asked the same of you."

It must have been what shi wanted to hear, because a wolfish grin spread across hir vulpine face, and shi ordered drinks for both of them indicating he was welcome to stay. When the first round was gone, the arctic fox returned the favor by ordering another. They repeated the exchange until closing time. Hvitur remembers being too drunk to walk and subsequently being carried slung over Sam's shoulder down towards the docks where shi lived. Shi must have had a source of money, because she owned a warehouse that shi rented to a merchant while keeping the two upstairs floors as hir quarters.

Strong enough to carry him up two flights of stairs, Samantha threw the inebriated Hvitur down onto hir bed. Despite hir rough and aggressive nature, shi snuggled with him and talked while he sobered up; the alcohol seemed to have little effect on hir. They tried to learn as much about each other as they could, but hir past was a topic that always remained vague and unspoken. Instead, shi wanted to learn everything about him. Hir reluctance to discuss hir personal history was a theme that permeated their relationship as they grew close over the years. That night, however, Hvitur was not interested in the past. The present and a possible future with hir obsessed him.

As the hours wore on, they progressed to gentle nuzzling and exploration of each other's bodies. The white fox had more Terra incognito to cover than the red fox. Hvitur was bisexual, so he was excited to run his paws over the intriguing terrain of this fur with both male and female genitalia. Sweet perfection was how he thought of hir; a complete package of sexual fun. He started up high in the white fur of hir chest, tracing the curves of hir young and firm breasts. Wandering down the flat expanse of hir white belly, he stroked hir long sheath and full, round balls with a single claw. Nearly hidden beneath hir ample maleness was hir pussy, moist and inviting. That single claw continued its travels across the fleshy folds of hir female sex causing hir to shudder from the contact of his finger with hir sensitive exposed flesh. Making its last traverse across the short expanse of hir taint, his claw reached the literal end at the puckered fleshy hole beneath hir red tail.

"Do you like what you see?" Hir tail swatted him playfully across his snout as he pondered the conclusion of his finger's journey.

"I do, my sweet little two-fer," he replied returning the favor with his own tail to hir snout as shi began to tease his cock out of its sheath with hir tongue. "Two-fer" became his pet name for hir. It was appropriate considering that shi made their twosome a ménage a trois.

"Little? I am taller and stronger than you, Hvitur."

"It is but a term of endearment, my love."

"You talk too much, Hvitur. Use your mouth for something else." After shi finished teasing his cock to a full erection, shi grasped his shaft just below the swollen bulb of his knot and closed hir mouth around the tip. She climbed on top of him with hir sheath dangling over his snout. He took the hint, pulled hir sheath back like the wrapper of a popsicle and covered the tasty treat with his lips. As shi rode her snout up and down the length of his shaft, occasionally stopping to lick his knot, Hvitur alternated between sucking hir pole and licking hir pussy. When his tongue was between hir folds his paw stroked hir shaft. When hir long shaft was poking down his throat with hir balls smashed against his forehead, he massaged her slit with his paws.

They gave each other a belly full of cum, but that was not the end of it. After resting and enjoying an hour of post coital lethargy, shi flipped the white fox onto his stomach as easily as though he were a child. There was no resisting the strength of hir body and the power of hir personality. Lifting his hindquarters back up in the air, shi spit on hir fingers and began to massage the rim of his tailhole. He buried his snout in the sheets knowing what shi was planning to do with his virgin ass. He had experimented with oral sex and mutual masturbation with other males, but never this.

Again, shi was surprisingly gentle, teasing him into relaxing before shi mounted him and worked hirself in until hir balls rested snug against his taint. "You have a nice, tight boy pussy. We are going to have a lot of fun with it." They did. Shi stroked his cock as hir hips moved back and forth against his butt until they came again together.

After that, the events were less clear in his mind. They made love so many ways and so many times that he was convinced magic was at work. Shi was insatiable, and so was he. He remembered mounting hir both anally and vaginally at least once. He knows he rode hir reverse cowgirl, and they repeated some acts just to experience them again.

Over the years, shi had taught him much about what was possible in bed, and he was content to relive all of those memories again, but he wondered if he should be ashamed for dwelling on such a lewd topic at this solemn ceremony. Was his vivid reminiscing of their sexual relations crass considering there was so much else to hir that was laudable and worthy of celebration? He was just a small part of hir life. Samantha had worked tirelessly to improve life in the city for everyone.

Let others discuss hir non-sexual merits openly, he decided. That was the lioness' task. He had his own sweet memories that were private, and that was how he would honor his Samantha. As Hvitur shifted uncomfortably in his seat to rearrange his growing erection, the distraction returned him to the present and the close of Candice's eulogy.

"...and so as I conclude, I urge you to think on the memory of Samantha Star-Iko with everlasting gratitude and affection as your lives improve again with the coming years. I promise you that they surely shall. Though we are doing the rebuilding, we owe that future happiness to hir. Thank you."

Candice looked down at her unread notes under the bright red stone. Tears trickled down from her eyes, ran along the sides of her snout and onto the pages to make the ink run. She raised her face to the sky and roared as loudly as she could. The other mourners followed her lead; her roar was echoed by other roars, howls, yips, braying and every other sound the mourners could make. It was a signal she had prepared in advance, and the church bells begin to ring in harmony with the mourners.

In feral form, Samantha watched the end of the ceremony from hir hiding place in the tall grass by the cemetary gate. The eulogy had touched hir. As shi moved through the centuries, she tried not to put roots down anywhere or become too emotionally attached to anyone. Someone here had altered the cautious pattern of her life, and he was sitting in the back row as neatly attired as ever. That was hir Hvitur, the fastidious arctic fox. Hir extended stay in this place had been dangerous, but it felt good to have made a difference in the lives of these people, especially hir lover.

Now it was time for hir once again to sever all of hir personal connections - a process that shi still found painful. It could not be helped. Being a kitsune meant shi would live for many more centuries. Everyone here would die around hir of old age, and shi would appear to have not aged a minute since the day shi arrived. If shi stayed here any longer, the people shi had come to love would become even more suspicious of hir "eternal youth and vigorous health" and inadvertently betray hir to hir enemies. There were those who thought of hir kind as demons to be destroyed. They would not rest until they found and killed hir. Shi was doomed to be hunted through the ages.

To be able to stay in one place and call it home was hir fondest dream. It was a pleasure shi would never know. The magical powers shi possessed that so inflamed hir enemies allowed hir to save this land from conquest and destruction. It had been risky to wade in among the enemy as shi did when shi could have simply walked away. The spell shi used to incinerate the last of the attacking horde nearly killed hir as well. It had been a near thing to both shield hirself and transform to hir feral form to hide so that the survivors would think hir killed in the explosion. The ruse was necessary, though, for hir to have a legitimate way to depart this place while simultaneously preserving it.

Shi had lingered too long. Why had shi done that? Had it been because shi was needed? Had it been because shi had been accepted here? Had it been because of Hvitur, hir arctic fox lover? Perhaps it was all of those; it was best not to dwell on these questions. This was now just another in a long series of past lives that shi would not forget, but also to which shi could never return. It was time to move on.

The dapper white fox's yips of morning threatened to morph into a wail of sorrow. He did not wish to spoil the celebration of his beloved's life with his grief, so he turned away from the podium with tears running down his cheeks and snout. Through the distortion of the salt laden moisture in his eyes, he noticed a red and white feral fox staring back at him from its place of concealment by the graveyard entrance. There was something hauntingly familiar about the beast, and it had an intense look of longing and regret in its eyes.

The contact he shared with this wild creature was profound but lasted only a moment. With a blink, the eye contact was lost, and the fox turned and ran away. His vision was still too blurry to be certain, but he swore the creature had three tails.

[END OF STORY]