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Twice Lost

Chapter 53

Athley Duchy was a day's journey from Howlester Duchy on horseback, so it naturally took twice as long to walk there. After having seen Azrian in the mural with another lover, Etienne had become morose and withdrawn, and the thought was constantly at the back of his mind: was Azrian destined to be with someone else?

If not, why the mural? Etienne had read Fassil's journal and knew his visions were not the same as the visions that Asres experienced. Asres had received his visions from Yfel, but according to Fassil's diary, Fassil had received his visions directly from Ti'uu: visions of the future, of things that not only could come to pass but would come to pass. The gods read the water and its reflection on the sky to the see the future, and Ti'uu was the god of the waters: seeing the future was allegedly his forte. Fassil's journal also depicted Ti'uu as a god of preparation and thought. So if Azrian was to be with someone else, Ti'uu would have known all along. He had probably promised Etienne godhood just to get Azrian to Wychowl.

And if Azrian was meant to be with someone else, what did that mean for Etienne? Was he just Ti'uu's tool? The thing that allowed Azrian to work her way onto the throne? Perhaps his place in Azrian's life was simply that he would disappear, allowing her to take his shape and conquer the world. The thought . . . was disturbing. And he hated it. Because he loved her so much.

The others could sense that Etienne was troubled and gave him space, allowing him to stew apart from them whenever they stopped to eat or rest. Charles always allowed them at least an hour's sleep, and then they were walking again. Ever walking in the eternal darkness.

"But what will we do?" Brooke wondered miserably. "Once we leave this . . . tunnel? We'll probably have to trek through the woods or something. Or down a road. We'll be sitting ducks for foxes and bandits --"

"Foxes and bandits and bears! Oh my!" shrilled Myles from the back of the group.

Hadly shook her head at him reproachfully, but Etienne could tell she was holding back a smile.

Brooke scowled. "It's not funny, Myles. We don't even have weapons . . ."

"I have magic," said the vixen, sly and silky. Etienne could hear the taunt in her voice. She was trying to frighten Brooke, and it was working.

Brooke's eyes fluttered wide. "So does Etienne! And he wouldn't let you harm us!"

The vixen laughed softly. "The dog god? He doesn't even begin to understand his power. I have nothing to fear from him. Or any of you."

Etienne took the vixen tight by the elbow. "Think again," he said in her ear. He saw her jaw flex angrily as he dragged her to the back of the procession, passing Myles as the cook said, "Stop worrying, Brookie. Magic is about who's faster. If we stab the fox before she can cast, we'll be gold."

"Brooke, my dear," Charles added, "Myles is right. Stop worrying, will you? That's my job. And as I've more experience . . . it's best to leave it up to me."

Brooke laughed softly. "Yes, your grace."

"How dare," the vixen hissed when she and Etienne had fallen behind, "you drag me about like some child --!"

"Then stop acting like a child," Etienne warned her.

The vixen snatched herself free and tightened the cloak around her throat. Etienne had been seriously thinking of taking it back from her for days. As they traveled, she had been silent and thoughtful as ever, but the rare moments she did speak, she was rude to the others, jabbing them for her own amusement, taking stabs at their insecurities. She mocked Myles that he was a drunk, poked fun of Hadly about her feelings for both Etienne and Myles, and taunted Judith that her "water god' was - for all his knowledge of the future -- ineffectual and weak. Charles was the only one she didn't verbally attack, and Etienne believed the vixen secretly feared Charles. Though he couldn't understand why.

The vixen tried to move ahead, but Etienne caught her by the tail. She made an indignant noise as he yanked her back.

"So you like scaring little girls, do you?" he said to her in a low voice.

"As much as you like fucking them," she returned quietly.

Etienne's lips tightened. "Ha. You and Hadly. So concerned about who I'm fucking. I'm flattered. Truly, I am."

"I am as concerned for you as your winged lover is concerned for you, dog god," the vixen said softly. "Meaning I am not concerned at all."

"Shut up about Azrian."

"I know what you saw on the wall. I saw it too. Do you know who that was she made love to so sensuously? Did you see how she looked into his eyes? She was thinking of him. Not of you."

". . . stop."

"What am I saying? Made? She is probably making love to him right n --" The vixen's words choked in her mouth when Etienne grabbed her by the arm and squeezed.

"I said stop," he whispered.

The vixen swallowed hard. And he couldn't believe it: she was trembling. It suddenly occurred to him that she feared him as much as she feared Charles. But why?

"You're a priestess of Yfel," Etienne said. "That's what Jonathan told me."

"The brat with the mane of fire? Yes! It is true! I have confessed my sins: I do not worship your Creator!" she cried derisively. "Now . . . let me go?"

Etienne didn't let go. Instead, he lifted his other paw, and the vixen stiffened angrily as it began to glow. He pulled her to a stop, and as they stood in the darkness, he reached around, pressing her with the hard muscles of his arm as he held his glowing paw under her nose. "I've been reading that book Uncle Charles gave me. I know how to heal properly now. I also know how reverse what I did. You don't answer my questions . . . I'll take it back. And you'll die. And all the magic in the world won't save you. Because I am god-touched now. I have been to Skkye. I am the Second. Fucking. Coming. Understand?"

The vixen swallowed hard and slowly nodded.

Etienne heard Charles call his name, could see the distant blaze of his torch as he turned, looking for the prince. The others also stopped and called to Etienne.

"The fox is gone too!" Hadly cried.

"Etienne?" Charles called again.

Etienne ignored their distant shouts. He placed a careful paw on the vixen's throat, just under her chin, and still holding the magic energy before her face, he whispered in her ear, "Tell me everything. Who was the fox in the mural? Did Yfel send him?"

"No," the vixen whispered.

"Wrong answer . . ." Etienne's paw blazed brighter.

"But . . . it's the truth!" the fox said desperately, and she sounded sincere.

"Go on," Etienne hissed in her ear.

"He is the child of Zihma," the vixen whispered - quickly and breathlessly, her eyes fluttering wide in fear. "He is god-touched, a child of power, sent by Zihma to stop Azrian from taking the throne of Varimore --"

"Why? Why does Zihma care?"

"She works with Ayni to stop the foxes from taking back Aonre . . . they want the dogs to rule . . . they believe we belong in the forests . . . kingdomless . . . free of the _evil_of money and power . . ."

"I take it you feel the same."

"Of course," the vixen said with a curl of her lip. "We were like you once, dog god. We lived in kingdoms, we stabbed each other in the back for power and riches. We kept our own as slaves or else left them to suffer in ghettos and gutters . . . In the forest, we are the equal of each other . . . We are free. Gone are the chains of society's upper class and lower class . . . We are free . . ."

"Etienne!" Brooke called. She was sobbing. "Oh god! The savage has killed him! Etienne!"

"Now who's frightening little girls?" the vixen said softly.

Etienne shook her a little to silence her. "This black fox . . . why was Azrian . . .?" He saw the vixen's white cheek bulge in a smirk. "Why are you smiling?"

"You are afraid that your lover has forgotten you," the vixen whispered. "But how many lovers have you taken since last you looked in her golden eyes?"

Etienne gritted his fangs. "You know damn well I hadn't a choice - all four times, in fact. And stay out of my head."

The vixen only laughed.

"I was a prisoner. And he . . . c-came on to me! Look, just _tell_me --"

"Put your fears aside, dog god. If Azrian loves you, she will come back to you. If that is her choice. There is no such thing as being meant for someone. Even for the gods and their demigods."

Etienne swallowed hard. He was about to speak when he heard Judith cry, "There he is! There's magic glowing - that way!"

Footsteps as the others approached through the darkness.

"One more thing," Etienne whispered. "What is your name? And why do you fear me? Me and Uncle Charles?"

"That's two more things."

"Answer me."

"I am Mogethis, a priestess of Yfel!" the vixen said indignantly. "I do not know fear --!"

"The hell you don't."

Mogethis swallowed, and Etienne saw her jerk her chin, almost sulkily. "You and the soft-eyed dog . . . there is power in Skkye. A power that . . . protects you." She lowered her voice as the others drew near, "I do not wish to anger that power."

"Etienne!" Hadly cried, jogging up with the others. She stopped and stuck her paw on her hip, Brooke came to her side, and as the suspicion passed through their eyes, Etienne felt a thrill of irritation.

"There you are, my boy," Charles said breathlessly. "You gave us quite the scare. What seems to be the matter?" His eyes glanced over the vixen, who clutched her cloak tight to her throat and didn't look at anyone.

"Her wound was hurting her," Etienne lied. "I took a look at it. We'd better keep moving." So saying, he moved past the others, ignoring Hadly's glinting stare.

They rested again an hour later. Brooke fell asleep with her head in Hadly's lap, and Hadly fell asleep with her head on Myles' shoulder. The Dalmatian smiled with soft eyes at Hadly and put his arm around her. She snuggled closer to him in her sleep, and he smiled as he too drifted off, sitting up against the wall.

The vixen slept as well, sitting against the wall some ways apart from the others and wrapping herself in her cloak. Etienne watched her as he reclined against the wall, and he thought she looked small and sad, like a lost little cub in the dirt.

Judith didn't sleep. In fact, she seldom slept. She sat beside Etienne, pouring with open-mouthed fascination through the journal Charles had given the prince. Every now and then, she muttered to herself as she translated a word written not in common tongue but in the language of the foxes. She was studying so hard, Etienne could almost feel her thinking.

Charles sat across from Etienne and beside Hadly. Looking over at him, Etienne thought his uncle looked so tired and sad. He probably thought of Duke Richard and Jonathan constantly, and Etienne silently cursed Jonathan for putting Corene of all beasts before his own family. Jonathan should have been there, guiding Charles to Athley and protecting him and supporting him. Or better yet, he could have remained at Howlester and defended the manor. But he put Corene and his love for her above all else. And Etienne thought it was incredibly selfish. Corene was in danger and deserved to be rescued, but not above the hundreds and thousands who had died in the duchy.

"What's on your mind, my boy?" Charles said, his voice rising over the soft snores and breaths that filled the dark corridor. His head was back against the wall and his spectacles were perched on his nose. Etienne looked at him and was almost reminded of Dr. Ellert. Charles was a lot like the little professor, only without the brogue. If the duke had not been born to a dukedom, Etienne could easily imagine he would teach at university. Probably something like poetry or philosophy. Charles was the quiet thinking kind, while Duke Richard and Jonathan were the exact opposite: the redheads were more action, less thought.

"I could ask you the same thing," Etienne said to his uncle. He frowned anxiously. "I hope you aren't still worrying about Jonathan. Somehow, he always lucks out. I wouldn't be surprised if we didn't hear from him the moment we arrived at the duke's manor."

Duke Percival Shorten was the duke of Athley Duchy and a cousin of the Owens of Rorchester. He was widely considered to be a mutt, as the Owens were well known to often forsake all attempts to remain purely bred for the sake of love, and thus, their bloodline was considered weak and impure. No one wanted to breed with them. And finding a mate to join their clan as they slowly fell to pariah status became more challenging with each passing decade. But Duke Percival's lands were so insignificant that no one ever challenged his claim to the duchy. His armed forces had probably been sent to help Howlester alongside the Owens' forces. It was a comforting thought, at least.

Charles only smiled, not to be distracted. "You're changing the subject. Which means whatever has been eating away at you is none of my business."

Etienne thought of his father, who Donica had loved desperately, who had thought she was meant to be with him, only to watch him fall in love with someone else. Etienne did not pity the female who had probably murdered his father, but he couldn't stop comparing the downward spiral of their marriage to what was happening with Azrian. He had listened all his life to stories of Bastian and Donica's once great love. Father Ederic in Wychowl had talked about it nonstop, having married the once happy couple himself.

"What was my father like?" Etienne asked eventually. "He was so withdrawn and depressed all my life, I feel like I didn't even know him."

Charles smiled sadly. "Your father," he said happily, softly, almost wistfully. "He was calm, soft-spoken . . . but when he did speak, beasts listened. He had a good heart but was afraid to use it. And I don't blame him for that fear. Those Emeralds who expressed sympathy for the foxes usually wound up dead. I believe his brother was murdered because he discovered some evidence that foxes were once kings and queens. The holy doctrine claims Nadheertia wasn't a queen until she married King Antony, and that her vast kingdom - upon which Krodor and part of Idria were built - belonged to that of ancient dogs --" Charles stopped when Etienne laughed softly. "What?"

You sound like my old professor,_Etienne thought. "Nothing, it's just . . ." He squinted one eye, "You aren't exactly _warming me to the idea of returning. I keep thinking I'm just a tool in the gods' petty games . . . that nothing I do will matter . . . that I'll just end up dead."

"Or without Azrian," Charles said wisely. "Which basically amounts to the same thing."

Etienne laughed tonelessly. "Yes. How did you guess?" He dropped his eyes to the earthen floor. "Am I that transparent?"

Charles smiled. "I know love." He blinked sadly, and Etienne knew he was thinking of Duke Richard. At least he could assure Charles without the guilt of lying that Duke Richard was probably fine, and he did.

"I know, my boy," Charles said heavily. "But I won't rest easy until I'm in his arms again."

"That's how I feel about Azrian . . . only she's in my arms. But being in her arms could work too. . . . I miss being in her arms." Etienne realized he was babbling and bit his lip.

Charles smiled sadly. "Your father loved your mother . . . so_deeply_. He thought of her all the time, the way I see you thinking of Azrian. Bastian would have done anything for Evelyn. He would have died for her. . . . and I do believe that's what he did."

As I died once for Azrian, Etienne thought sadly. He felt the anger tighten his chest and tried to push it down. "I refuse to believe my father killed himself."

Charles only blinked sadly.

"I refuse," Etienne repeated in a low voice. "Donica killed him because he loved my mother. I know it."

"Do you?" Charles said quietly. "Donica poisoned your mother. I can attest to that," he said and his face darkened. "But she would never have harmed Bastian. She loved him - yes," he said when Etienne opened his mouth to retort, "she loved him." Charles looked away, his eyes bitter. "Even that bloody munter could love."

"Did my mother love him back?" Etienne asked, hating the sudden anger in his voice. But it was all too familiar. It resembled what was happening to him and Azrian too strongly. What if Azrian fell in love with that black fox? What if she didn't come back to him? Charles was right: it was eating away at him.

Charles swallowed hard, and Etienne tensed. Why was it suddenly so difficult to answer his questions?

"It's a simple enough question, Uncle," Etienne said angrily. "Did she love him?" He stared at Charles, waiting.

Finally, the duke's lips parted, and he said sadly, ". . . I don't know."

Etienne's throat tightened. He wanted to push for more answers, but he could see the tears rising in his uncle's eyes, and with pang of guilt, he swallowed his questions.

It was rare that Charles spoke of Evelyn, simply because it was too painful for him to do so. In fact, they hadn't spoken of her since Etienne's first visit to Howlester. Though Etienne had wanted to so many times. He couldn't escape the feeling that Evelyn was watching over him, helping him, guiding him. Sometimes he closed his eyes and could still see her reaching down from Skkye, smiling as she pulled him from the river.

"I'm sorry, Uncle," Etienne said, hating himself as Charles dabbed his tears away with a kerchief. "I . . . I didn't mean . . ."

"It's alright, my boy."

"I'm just so . . . afraid."

Charles smiled and adjusted his spectacles. "I like a king who can admit he's afraid. I like a king who's not afraid to ask for help. I like that even more in a god." He nodded at Etienne's paws, which were dangling between his legs as his elbows rested on his knees.

Etienne looked at his paws. "I still can't believe it. I went to Skkye and now I've got . . . magical sparkly paws."

Charles laughed softly. "Come, my boy. Let's get the others up. It's been an hour."

When they finally emerged from the tunnel, it was day, and the bright sun and sky was painful after the long darkness they had endured. They emerged one after the other into the pressing trees of a cheerful green forest, shielding their eyes and groaning as they stepped into the light.

The mouth of the tunnel had been covered by a boulder that only magic could move, and not trusting Mogethis as far as he could throw her, Etienne used his gifts to move the boulder himself. Once everyone was out, he raised his paw to replace it. A swirling symbol on the great rock glowed, and as it moved of its own accord back into place, Etienne was reminded of the symbols he had seen at the portal with Asres. The symbols when scratched on an object enabled a fox to manipulate said object. He silently wondered if scratching a fire symbol on a sword would make it blaze with fire. Or if such a symbol were scratched on a gun . . . he couldn't even begin to imagine the chaos. And he realized that once he had returned to Wychowl, he should keep his magical abilities a strict secret. If dogs ever discovered the magical technology that was now at Etienne's fingertips, they would want him to use it in their wars. Perhaps they would even find a way to force him. For surely the gods had a weakness, even the demigods. He thought of Azrian and realized the whole world would probably know his weakness soon enough. All he had to do . . . was look in her eyes.

Etienne had to wonder what they would have done if no one in the group had magic. When he voiced his concerns, Charles explained that the boulder "door" had a "key." The key was a small stone with a symbol on it identical to the one on the boulder. When the key was lifted to the boulder, both symbols would have activated, and the boulder would have moved. Charles even had the key and showed it to Etienne.

"So . . ." Etienne laughed weakly. "I didn't even have to move it."

"No," Charles admitted with a smile. "I just wanted to see if you could."

They made camp, and Myles set to work, cooking something over the fire that made their stomachs growl. Etienne couldn't remember the last time he'd had something hot to eat and devoured what the cook turned out with such abandon that the others laughed and Hadly slapped his paw.

With the meal finished, Etienne tied the vixen's paws behind her back and even tied her feet. Mogethis sneered but did not fight him as she sat poised on the rock, her white mane tumbling in her slanted eyes.

Hadly had spotted a stream while gathering firewood with Brooke and suggested they gather water before nightfall. With their meal finished, they now had an empty pot with which to gather it. But Brooke was too afraid to venture back into the forest, so Myles volunteered to go with Hadly. They took up the cooking pot and disappeared in to the trees.

"Don't take too long!" Charles called, and Etienne thought he sounded more and more like everyone's fretting father as the days passed.

"What are you going to do now?" Brooke said fearfully to Etienne, her large eyes sad. She sat beside him, perched on a fallen log, and the way she peered into his face, he thought she might grab his clothes.

"He's coming with us to Athley, of course," Charles said at once.

Etienne shook his head. "No, Uncle. I'm taking a portal to the nearest shrine in Thalsin." Thalsin was the capital of Varimore, where WychowlCastle was situated. "There's a shrine in this forest . . . I can feel it." He had learned to be still, to listen for the soft hum of magic that his god-touched ears could now hear. If only he listened.

"A portal?" Charles repeated. He frowned. And it was clear he didn't want Etienne going anywhere alone.

"He's right," Judith said. "There's one around here somewhere." She shrugged when the others looked at her. "Read about it in my father's notes."

"Your father?" Etienne prompted.

Judith sniffed, her black mane still falling heavy over her face and obscuring her eyes. Her black nose protruded from her cloaking mane, long and glistening in the sun. "My father was Dr. Morton Bell. He was an archeologist. Studied fox myth and lore, their culture both past and present . . . Eventually, he dug up an old temple to Ti'uu. He messed around with the shrine there, and Ti'uu . . . he answered."

Etienne saw Mogethis roll her eyes.

"Go on, my girl," said Charles with interest. "What happened? You never told me your father spoke to Ti'uu."

"Yes. . . what happened?" said Mogethis, amused.

Judith ignored the vixen. "Ti'uu answered because he heard my father's voice through the water. Said he thought one of his worshippers was calling to him and answered because he needed someone to help move his plans forward. He looked at my father and decided he would do. My father pledged himself to Great Ti'uu's service. He pledged his blood if it meant making the world a better place. And so did I."

"But what is a better world?" Mogethis said softly. "The idea of a better world varies greatly from beast to beast. For instance, some believe the world would be better if all the dogs were to drown in their own blood."

"You lot want me to gag her too?" Etienne said dispassionately.

"And _some_believe," said Brooke hotly, "the world would be a better place without foxes!"

Mogethis smiled slowly at Brooke's breathless anger. "Be calm, child. When the foxes take over, soft creatures like you will be spared. My brothers will use you for their amusement. Pass your soft body from cock to cock, force you to lick and suck and take it in every tight crevice, all the while knowing you could never become with cub --"

"Stop!" Charles snapped. "Stop now." His eyes glinted behind his spectacles as he poked the fire with a stick.

Mogethis bit her lip and dropped her eyes. But she was holding back a smile.

Brooke looked on the verge of tears. No doubt many dogs she knew and loved had died back at Howlester. Etienne wanted to put his arm around her but didn't think it would be appropriate, so he glared at the vixen instead.

"Etienne," Charles said with a shuddering breath, and it was clear the vixen's words had upset him as well. "Hadly and Myles are taking quite some time . . . would you?"

"Of course, Uncle," Etienne said and rose from his seat. He gave the vixen a warning glare before he disappeared into the trees. But as he searched for the steam, it suddenly hit him that Mogethis had probably lost just as many loved ones to dogs. Her anger, her need to torment and tease, stemmed from the violence she had known all her life. She was taking her frustrations out on the dogs who had captured her, who were probably going to kill her as far as she was concerned. Etienne was well aware that Jonathan had ordered her cleaned and skinned after his interrogation. Mogethis was supposed to die back at Howlester, before her clan could rescue her. And she had always expected to be rescued. No wonder she hadn't cared about staying or going.

Etienne's thoughts of Mogethis shattered when he heard the rhythmic cries echoing through the trees. His pace slowed as the grunts and sighs grew louder, and he stopped, half-hidden behind a tree, to see Hadly and Myles beside the stream.

Myles had Hadly against a tree. Her skirts were lifted, her feet were rocking against the air, and the Dalmatian's pants were around his ankles as he rocked against her, slamming his erection until his hard spotted backside was flexing and his sack flapping. His shuddering breaths were muffled in her neck when he kissed her. Her head fell back in a daze, and his tender kisses traveled up to her cheek. He stopped to look at her with soft eyes, and it was clear that he was in love with her. But she didn't even see. She reached blindly for his face and kissed him wildly, nibbling his lip in a sudden frenzy. "Fuck me! Fuck me!" she hissed, and he obeyed, humping her so hard, her feet rocked faster.

"Oh! Oh, Myles!"

"H-Hadly! Shit . . . oh god . . ." Myles cupped the back of her head and buried kisses in her heaving breasts.

Her paws clutched at his backside. "Fuck me! Fuck me!"

Etienne slowly backed away and returned to the camp. When the others looked at him, he shrugged and said he hadn't found Hadly and Myles. Charles frowned anxiously, but Mogethis seemed to know Etienne was lying. She smirked at him. But she was silent.

Hadly and Myles returned when the sun was going down and everyone was rolling out their bedrolls. Myles didn't have a bedroll, as he had joined their group at the last minute. He shared a bedroll with Hadly, and though Brooke's brows went up in surprise, and though Charles smiled, and though Judith coughed, no one said a word.

Mogethis didn't have a bedroll either and sat in the dirt with her paws tied behind her back and her tied ankles before her, her back against a rock as she stared at the stars. Eventually, sleep took her, and she nodded off where she sat.

Charles and Judith also settled into their bedrolls, and Brooke followed suit, laying her bedroll out near Etienne's. Etienne was surprised but he didn't protest and instead returned her smile when she paused to look at him. She climbed under her sheets but didn't go to sleep.

Etienne had first watch, so he didn't go to sleep either. He sat on his bedroll, peering out at the forest.

"I thought for sure we'd die," Brooke whispered sadly. She lay on her back under the sheets, staring at the sky with wide eyes. "I thought the foxes would find us in the tunnel . . . they c-could still find us now . . ."

"It's alright," he said to her. Because he didn't know what else to say.

"Are you _really_going to leave us?" she asked, almost accusing. Her voice was choked with fear. "We can't travel to town without you --"

"You'll be fine," Etienne assured her soothingly.

"But what about you?" She sat up, her gold mane tumbling, and rested back on her paws, staring at him. "I d-don't want you to go alone . . . I'm afraid for you, your majesty."

Etienne glanced over to see her eyes were wet with tears. "Brooke, it's alright. I've got magic powers now. Or something. I can sneeze fire."

Brooke laughed sadly. "But can you sneeze it on purpose, my prince?"

Etienne looked off. That was true. He didn't have a clue how to control elemental magic, and he'd been bluffing back in the tunnel when he scared Mogethis. He blinked when Brooke crawled to him and touched his knee.

"Brooke --"

"I may never s-see you again . . . my prince . . . I . . ."

Without warning, she kissed him. Etienne had been toying with a stick, but it fumbled from his paws when Brooke slipped into his arms. She took his paws and guided them up her skirt and against her thighs, peering into his eyes with sad hunger. She was afraid. And she wanted him. And before he could speak, she was kissing him again. He felt her knickers and they were warm and wet. His large, gentle fingers massaged her clit through the fabric and her lips parted in a sigh.

"Oh . . . my prince . . ."

"Brooke . . . you should . . . rest . . ." Etienne protested feebly, even as she guided his paws to pull her knickers down. She lifted her tail and knelt, legs spread, over his lap.

"Hadly wants Myles now," Brooke whispered breathlessly. "She won't mind. Put your paws on my body . . ." she whispered between frantic kisses. "Make love to me . . ."

Etienne swallowed hard as she started undoing his pants. Brooke didn't know about Azrian any more than Hadly did. She thought his heart was free, but it wasn't. His heart was caged. He thought of Azrian wrapped in the bugling arms of that black fox, and something in him crumbled. He kissed Brooke back, carefully tasting her as he yanked her knickers down. He reached under her skirts again, grabbed her naked hips, and jerked them toward his penis. He could feel himself slowly swelling upright as he looked into her eyes. Her little breasts were trembling behind her apron with her every breath, her golden mane was tumbling across her eye.

"Make love to me," she whispered again, hugging his thick neck in her slender arms. Her mouth was near his ear and the hot breath tickled him.

Etienne smoothed his paws over her soft backside and thought of Taiga, somewhere pregnant with his child. He pried her soft buttocks apart, and her lashes fluttered when he gently nudged the head of his erection against her anus.

She looked in his eyes but there was no protest there. So he looked her in the eye . . . as he brought her anus down over his shaft, taking her other virginity as carefully as he had taken the first. But the head of his thick penis could barely get in and he paused when her eyes widened, thinking he should have let her suck him first. But her sex was moist. He could feel it staining his lap. He pulled from her anus . . . and sank slowly through the hot sheath of her lips. Her head fell back as he filled her, pulling her down until he was in to the base. But he lifted her again, pulling her off with a soft suck. She held his shoulders and braced herself as he tried again to enter under her tail, his erection now glistening in the sheath of her juices.

"Oh!" Brooke whispered, trembling as his erection plunged. Her backside clenched against him and her tail was flashing. He brought her down on his shaft, slowly, carefully, watching her tremble and sigh as he filled her. She probably hadn't expected it to feel good. She was shaking all over, melting in his arms. He wanted to pull her dress off and lick her breasts. He pulled her apron down over her shoulders and sucked her breasts through the fabric of her dress, bringing her up and down on his shaft, until she was bouncing, until she was rocking, until her rhythmic cries rose soft to the stars.

"Ahh . . . ahh . . . a-ahh . . ."

"Mmph . . . I'm going to . . ." Etienne winced. He could feel it happening and tried to pry her off. He was surprised when she got on her knees, and dipping her head between his legs, she devoured him wetly and deeply. He could feel himself prodding the back of her throat and tried to pull out before he choked her with his cum. But her lips held on to the head of his penis, forbidding him to escape as he came with a choked cry. She sputtered as his seed dripped from her mouth, struggling to swallow. He stroked her mane and couldn't understand why she had insisted on swallowing. He'd been prepared to simply run off into the trees. . . . But at least he was soft now. He watched his penis flop soft against his open pants and was about to button them when Brooke leaned down with hungry eyes . . . and devoured him until he was hard again.

"B-Brooke . . . shit . . ."

"Mm . . . mmm . . . oh my prince," she whispered as she dragged her tongue along.

Brooke kept sucking and slurping, and looking down at her on paws and knees between his thighs, Etienne imagined her naked, her little breasts swinging down, her shapely thighs spread and her backside in the air. He reached under and squeezed her breasts through her dress as she sucked him. Encouraged, she gulped his shaft until it prodded the back of her throat again. Etienne saw her throat flex and sighed as her spit gushed over him, his shaft swelling against her already-strained lips. He was going to come again, and this time, he was going to come right down her throat. He grimaced as it was about to happen - and then the boulder blocking the tunnel rolled aside.

Etienne looked up and gasped as several figures stepped from the tunnel and into the moonlight. The rest of the camp came awake as Brooke screamed and scrambled back, fumbling to pull up the knickers that had become entangled around her foot. Etienne fell over as he struggled to button his pants, and he could see Charles sitting up with his spectacles askew after having hastily put them on.

Charles got to his feet as the strangers approached, and Etienne was surprised when he laughed and said in disbelief, "Porter?"

Etienne got to his feet and followed his uncle's gaze. It was indeed Porter. She stood with a group of dogs at her back, clutching a bloody bandage on her side. The usual lopsided grin was on her muzzle and her gold mane was tumbling in a mess in her eyes. Beside her stood a tall black beauty with a white chin, her dark mane loose and wild and her slanted eyes fierce.

"Estica!" cried Charles, addressing the black beauty. He went to the strangers, relief washing over his face. "And Milly! You live, thank god!"

"Yep, still alive," said Porter with a weak laugh. She nodded at Etienne, whose erection had not gone down and was poking through his pants. "And glad to see so's the prince."