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Ch.14 (Movement. 2). Overture.

**

Chas had left that afternoon, with a promise for a visit tomorrow. Dal slept most of the day, and into the night. The next morning his phone woke him up with incessant ringing. Still sore, and sleepy, he lifted the phone to his ear.

"Hello?"

"Dal! Dal! What the hell!?"

Dal blinked his eyes. He was a little groggy from some of the medicine they had given him to help him sleep. He recognized the voice, but not from where.

"Huh? Who?"

He glanced over at Rick. Rick was being asked questions by a doctor and was moving slowly about in his bed. Their eyes locked. Rick smiled at him.

He's ok. He's going to be ok.

"DAL!"

Now annoyed Dal snapped into the phone. "Who is this!?"

"Dal, it's Frank, your publisher!? What did you think you were doing!?"

"What do you mean, what did I do?" The doctor glanced over at Dal with a frown. He turned his voice into a whisper. "What did I do Frank?"

"Oh, I Don't know, change the entire last movement, annoy half of the ministers, and start a political movement is all. Do you know how much fan mail I have? Do you know how many phone calls....hold on......NO, I don't walk to talk to them right now. Dal....we're a classical music publishing firm, not some pop culture icon FAN group. I can't handle this!!!"

Dal stared at his phone for a minute, slightly confused. He shrugged.

"Frank, I'm sure you'll be fine. Call me tomorrow."

"Wait!" Frank wailed as Dal hit end, and turned the phone off.

Dal sighed. He turned his head to see Rick staring at him while laying down.

"Hey." Rick said softly.

"Hey." Dal replied.

They reached for each others hands. Dal took Rick's paw gingerly and closed his eyes.

We'll be alright.

**

The day passed quickly. By evening, he was feeling pretty much his own self. The mark on his chest had faded to black again as had Rick's. They were going to be discharged that evening. Even the doctors were amazed at the recovery.

"I've seen fast healers, and then there is this!" Dr. Chin sighed, going over the charts. "No sign of injury at all in either of you. I can only attribute it to your, ah, markings. By all rights Rick should be dead, and you should be, well, comatose for at least a week based on the readings you came in with."

Dal shrugged. There wasn't anything he could say. Rick just grinned. "Well, put that one in your books then. Who knows what it was, I'm just thankful to be ok. I have no real memory of the incident, but I have learned from it. Don't wander strange streets alone."

Dr. Chin shrugged. He gave them orders to get dressed in the clean clothing he gave them, and the orderlies would be out in an hour or so.

Dal grinned as he donned the pants, and stopped at his shirt. Remembering his vow. He continued with his shoes, and a light open jacket.

"Um...Dal sweetheart, aren't you a little, uh, under-dressed?" Rick stared not hiding his lust at all.

"No, I made a vow Rick." Dall filled Rick in on the events of the concert. Rick's eyes grew wide. He asked to see the second mark. Dall showed him. Rick grew very quiet.

"What is it Rick?" Dal asked, looking concerned.

"Well it isn't the fact that you're going around shirtless if that's what you're wondering. I just wonder what this all means?"

The canine looked pensive. There was a knock on the door.

"Come in?" Dal looked puzzled they weren't expecting anyone.

"Ah! Mr. Taylor, and this is Rick yes?" The fur who entered wore a large set of some type of religious vestments of a deep cream and gold, with, a strange tri-corner hat, and spoke in a very thick Italian accent. He was a weasel through and through in appearance.

"Um, yes?"

"I'm glad I found you.... I'm Father Caledine."

**

The priest, for that is what he was, interrogated Rick, and Dal for an hour on the events of their marking, and on the second mark Dal had acquired, then he grew very quiet. Dal was a little apprehensive on giving out such personal information, but something made him trust the priest. Whenever he rubbed his mark, it tingled in a good way.

"We have not had a case, in a hundred years."

"A case of what?" Rick cocked his head to the side, in that cute canine fashion.

"You, Rick, you have two marks yes? Both appeared on the same night?"

Rick nodded showing the front and rear marks.

The priest turned his brown eyes on Dalten. "And you sported another, the night of the concert, and both of you exchanged energies yes?" Dalten shrugged,

"You could say that."

The weasel smiled. "Does this not prove it?"

He turned the video screen on. It was a continuous news loop. Dalten hated the networks. They distracted him too much. He'd been thrilled that Rick had felt the same.

The video was of the concert. The announcer spoke gravely, the third movement was about ending. There Dalton stood, the frame froze as Daletn put his hand on his mark, the green light shone through his hand.

"The commentator droned on: "We now believe, that Mr. Dalten Taylor, and his mate Rick Wells, have been Soul Marked. On this solemn occasion, one can only guess what this can really signify for us as a people...some are saying it brings hope, and others..."

The weasel rewound the feed until the beginning of the concert, and you could see the second mark form on Dalten's back.

"You see, you both have two marks. Not one, two. To be Soul Marked is to have one mark. To be Soul Touched is to have two."

Rick shook his head, clearly confused. "I don't understand."

"It has happened so rarely, and the last a hundred years ago, there is little in the public archive. There is much secrecy as to what it means. I was only sent by my order to tell you this, and nothing more. I wish I could tell you more, but that is not up to me. Just know that you aren't alone in this."

The weasel stood abruptly, smiled warmly, and left.

Rick and Dal stared at each other. Dal re-wound the video feed and they both watched it several times.

**

Rick sat in his wheelchair as his followed Rick's down the halls. Their orderlies had given them bags of their personal effects (mostly ruined clothes, wallets and ID's). They were going to just catch a cab, and leave. Dal sighed as they rounded the corner to the exit. Both orderlies froze.

"Shit!" One, a large Lion exclaimed, turning Rick in a 180 and heading back they way they came. The other nodded, a Rhino of some type. They both bolted causing Dal and Rick to clutch at the arm rests. To put it bluntly, there was a Mob outside, waiting for them.

The Two orderlies found an empty room, and locked them in, one went for the phone.

"Dal? What is it?" Rick's ears were plastered to his head.

Dal shrugged. "You saw the news feed. I think we have fans, and more than that, possible enemies."

"Right, no we weren't briefed. Ok, Plan Charlie 2. Got it."

The Rhino put the phone down.

"Ok, both of you up, each of you onto a bed, quick."

Dal leveraged himself up, and climbed into a bed. Rick did the same. They were covered with blankets. Two other nurses came in, and they wheeled the beds out and around another corner. The voices of the shouting crowd could be heard from here.......

"Where are you taking us?" Dal whispered as loudly as he dared.

"Out the other entrance. Stay quiet!"

The "driver" of his bed was the Rhino. Dal lay still. He closed his eyes.

Soon he felt cold air. He was leveraged up. A very large, and heavy, dark car stood awaiting the two, no crowd was in sight. They both got into the car. Dal was amazed. It was one of the few models that could fit someone his size.

The window between the passenger, and driver section rolled down.

Chas smiled at them, a driver, Charls the bear, if Dall recalled right, was sitting next to him in the driver's seat.

"I Figured this might happen. Dal, care to take me up on an offer for a two week vacation? All expense paid?"

Dal gulped and gripped Rick's hand.

"I think we'd better!" Rick nodded enthusiastically.

The car drove off. Chas chuckled.

**

Dal Sr. sighed. Ken was staying over at the farm with Jacob for the weekend. Dinner had been, well, strained to say the least. It wasn't that he disliked the bull, he just didn't know if his son was serious. That had been quite a speech he gave to Mr. Wells in the hospital, but how much had Ken changed really? True he wasn't staying for good, and it was only a few days until he and Jacob left for further training. Dal ran his head through his gray mane.

"One son, a national celebrity, and the other, well, going into the military with a gay bovine, but leaving behind a filly lover, and a pregnant mare. If this was any less serious than it was, I'd laugh."

Dal Sr. clopped down the stairs into the kitchen. The house was dead quiet. It was midnight. He'd gone to bed with Vi as usual, early, but could not sleep. He kept thinking, and worrying about his sons. And now, his new foal.

Here Dal Sr. was, nearing what used to be middle age, and is now called "early age." It wasn't uncommon for the larger furs to live a hundred years or more before burning out entirely in a decade or so. He just didn't know if he was ready for another foal.

Easy boy. One day at a time, like you told Dal numerous times.

Dal Sr.'s eyes softened. He pulled out the photograph of his family and stared. Vi looked so charming, Ken was so full of life, and Dal, he looked so confused at that age. Gangly, a bass, and no idea what he was going to do. Dal Sr. found himself chuckling finding he had more in common with his youngest son at the age he was in the picture than he did with anyone else. Alive anyway.

"Can't sleep?" Dal looked up, Vi had come down to join him. Dal sighed. He nodded. He could see, very faintly, the beginnings of the pregnancy Vi was carrying. It was foolish of them to not use any type of preventative, but, neither of them had given it a thought. It had been so long.

Dal Sr. nodded, pointing to Dal Jr. in the photograph.

Vi only nodded. She busied herself with making some tea at the old gas stove. Dal leaned back and closed his eyes, remembering a different time.

**

He'd been 16. He'd shirk his chores as much as he could, his dad William was always on him about taking care of the farm. But that wasn't what Dal wanted to do! He was a poet! His teachers all praised him on his simplistic beauty, his turn of phrase, and the dry whit he showed in his works. He had dreams of going to college, of making it big.

He'd been laying on his stomach, writing furiously in his book when the voice echoed across from the field. "Hey!"

Dal looked up, he scowled. It was his cousin Kendrick. "Dal! Hey! Your dad's looking for you!"

Dal snorted and went back to his writing. His cousin was big, good natured, and very dumb.

"Yes, I know, why do you think I'm out here?"

Kendrick came to a halt next to him, and belly-flopped in the grass. His paint coloring and slightly tubby build making him look like a big landed cow.

"Aw come on, Dal, you need to help out, harvest is coming." Dal scowled, but put his book back in his overalls, stood up, and walked back to the farm. He'd remember that evening forever.

**

"Great dinner dear, Dal's father William sighed putting his fork down. Dal was stolidly working his way through his greens. His mind was working slowly on how to talk about his dream to his dad.

"Dal? What is it dear?" Dal's mom, Bertha, a dappled grey like him, put her hand on his shoulder. Dal gulped. He could not lie to save his life. "Um, thinking ma."

"Oh? About what?" She began doing dishes.

Dal turned his head and mumbled.

"What was that son?" William leaned down, the old Black Stallion snorted. He'd heard well enough.

"iwaswonderinghowtoaskifIcouldgotouniversity...."

"University!?" Dal's dad William looked like he was about to explode.

"Bill?"

The ancient voice echoed from the parlor. Dal's dad calmed down.

"Yes dad?"

The querulous voice picked up in volume.

"Send the boy my way son, I'll talk to him."

Dal's dad did with a snort. He respected his dad.

Dal stood. Rarely did his grandfather, Forsythe, give a speech. It was very rare for the old stud to say much of anything. Dal stepped into the dark parlor, and regarded his ancient grandfather. Forsythe was the ancestor of some founder of this farm, and Dal took after him entirely. Both were big, both were strong, both were grey, but where Dal was young, Forsythe was withered. He'd lost his wife, Dal's grandmother years ago. He was an ancient 105 by changeling / fur standards.

Dal stood in front of the huge old leather-bound chair. It was close to the fireplace.

"What is it grandpa?"

The old stud snorted loudly.

"Don't give me guff boy, I heard you plain enough the first time. You want to go to university, is that right?"

Dal nodded.

"Why?"

Dal stood silently. "Because it's what I want."

"I see, and what is it you want?"

Dal though long and hard. He always thought long and hard. "I, want to do something I enjoy, grandpa....I-I like writing."

The old stud eyed him through rheumy eyes. "So why leave the farm then son? Can't you take classes local? Work the farm and write at the same time?"

That hadn't occurred to Dal.

"You see son, there is life, and then there is LIFE. It is all well and good to leave the nest, to leave hearth and home behind, but who says you can't join the two? Write to keep yourself happy, and work to keep those you love fed, and to stay near those who love you? Who says you can't get published from here?"

Dal stared. His grandfather hadn't so much spoken so much since he could remember. The words rang true to him though.

"I hadn't thought of that." Dal ducked his head.

Forsythe smiled. "It's ok son. Now, why don't you read me some of your works."

**

And so began a nightly ritual for the next ten years. Dal would write, and his grandfather would listen, nodding a time or two, or asking questions about a certain turn of phrase. The two would talk late into the night, becoming very close. The two shared a bond, the joy of the written word. Forsythe could no longer venture out into the fields, but he lived them through his grandson's writings on nature. He hadn't had a true love in years, but his heart was stirred by the young colts writings, especially about a young filly named Virginia. Dal found an eager listener in his grandfather. He'd recite and practice his intonation. His grandfather would tell him stories about practicing on the stage when he was in school and his own dreams of being an actor.

Dal grew to love to farm, and to love writing. When his grandfather had died suddenly, he was devastated. He kept writing, if only to keep his memory alive, but he never shared his writings. Sometimes he'd catch Vi reading them, and he'd embarrassingly take the papers away, locking them in his safe in his study.

**

Dal Sr. sighed. "I, I just want to do right by them Vi. They both deserve so much, and I hope, I hope they don't hate us, I know we pressured them, but well, I can't help it."

Vi nodded. "I didn't help either did I?" She chuckled warmly running her hand over her blaze, an imitation of Dal Jr's habit. Vi laid a hand on her husbands shoulder. He reached over and patted her swelling tummy.

"I promise to do right by this one, no matter what" Dalten Sr. swore on the memory of his grandfather.

**

Ken sighed. He laid next to Jacob in his old bed. He turned and draped his arm across the big bull's chest.

"What are you thinking of?" The bull rumbled. Ken smiled. "Of the future." The bull waved a hand. "Too much Ken. Think of now, enjoy what we have. You know, when we ship out, it will be months before we come back. Enjoy this, for what it is. It may never last."

Ken held the bull tightly against his chest. "Ooof! Not that hard you dumb horse!"

"Whoa who are you calling dumb grass muncher?"

They wrestled for a bit, Ken found himself lip locked with the bull in seconds, his own cock slipping down and out, a mottled gray and pink. He took a quick intake a breath as the bull took it deftly into his bovine mouth. Ken sighed and rubbed the edges of the bulls horns. Jacob sighed contentedly as he suckled on Ken's thick equine member.

Ken reached down and fondled the huge bovine tesicles bellow him, and ran his hand gently over the bright pink bull cock. The bull could put out more cum than Ken could dream of, it made his mouth water.

Soon Ken found himself lost in another thought....Jacob was driving him wild. He'd found that tender spot right behind his balls, and Jacob scratching it roughly as he milled Ken's cock. Soon Ken shoved his fist in his mouth, to keep the noise down.....he shuddered as he unloaded into Jacob.

**

Dal Sr. opened an eye. "Did you hear something?" Both he and Vi listened for a second, and heard male laughter.

"No dear, I didn't, and neither did you. Go to sleep" Vi sighed.

"Yes dear." Dal Sr. draped his arm over his smaller wife, rubbing her tummy.