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The ceiling was slowly beginning to reveal itself from the darkness of the night. Amber beams peaked in from the window in Samson's bedroom and played games with the motes of dust floating around the rafters. The warm summer air was filled with the smell of freshly split pine from the wood pile outside his window. It would be more pleasant to the fox if he hadn't spent the previous day splitting those logs. His shoulder was a bit stiff and he could swear that his hands still smelled like that damn axe handle. Or maybe it was just the wood pile. He cupped his hands around his nose just to reassure himself.

"Yep, still there."

Sam threw the single sheet, barely covering his nude form, off and rolled out of bed. It was hot last night and he opted to sleep like this rather than wake up in a pool of sweat. There was not much in his room, only a bed, wardrobe, and small bare desk. Everything in the room was made of wood and had been there for decades. The floorboards creaked beneath his paws as Sam padded to the small pile of clothes next to his wardrobe. It was not worth it to get fresh clothes for today; the day was already hot and not getting any cooler. There was nothing he could do to avoid smelling terrible by end of the day. He picked up a pair of boxers off the floor and looked at them, sneering at the clothing. He dropped them on the floor and picked up his denim overalls, surely he could get away with just wearing this today. Sam stepped into them, pulled his tail through the flap in the back, and snapped the straps over his shoulders.

Heavy hoof-steps clopped by his door. CRAP, that's right, thought Sam, Alex is giving me a ride out to the fields today. He grabbed his boots and hurried downstairs so he wouldn't be late. As he rounded the banister he saw Mrs. Hamilton cooking in the kitchen. He smiled and bid her good morning as he sat down at the table with Alex.

"Good morning Mrs. Hamilton" said Sam. The table was piled with eggs and bacon. Sam was hungry enough that this looked like a sea of breakfast to him. He tore into it as fast as he could so he wouldn't make Alex wait.

"Woah, slow down there partner," said Alex. The Clydesdale grew up in the city with Sam; the root of his occasional cowboyish drawl is unknown to everyone. "I am going to go load up the truck, so you have a few minutes. Just sit and enjoy your breakfast for once. My aunt does not cook like this for everyone."

Sam looked up at his hostess, blushing.

"Sorry Mrs. Hamilton," he said.

"Oh, don't fret dear," said Alex's aunt. "I am just glad to see you eat. You are just skin and bones."

This was not exactly fair. Alex's family was equine, so of course his frame would look small next to theirs. Plus, all of this summer work was finally starting to build up his muscles. Instead of object, he merely smiled a big sly, toothy grin and kept on eating.

Alexander finished his breakfast and stood up to bring his dishes to the sink. Sam could see the long hair on Alex's forearms had a few remnants of breakfast in them. Every inch of his friend's 7'3" body was huge, no wonder Sam looked scrawny. Alex put his dishes away and was out the door. Mrs. Hamilton busied herself in another room, leaving Sam alone at the table.

Sam went out to Alex's uncle's farm every summer since they were ten. At first it was just a place to stay, since his parents could not afford summer camp and didn't want to leave him at home while they went to work. Gradually Alex and Sam started helping out around the house, eventually moving on to working on the farm and getting paid. Now they were turning nineteen, getting ready to go off to college, so this would probably be his last year of farm work. The work sucked, but it was nice to be out in the country, and of course Sam and Alex got to hang out a lot, which was great. He would miss this place. He would miss spending all this time his friend.

By the time Sam got outside Alex had just finished loading some of those freshly cut logs into the back of a beat up old pickup truck. At one time the truck had possibly been green, maybe yellow. Regardless of what color it had been, it was now just rust, held together through the sheer will of Mr. Hamilton. Alex closed the tailgate and locked it with a chain that dangled through a rusty hole in the side. Sam had an idea; he put his boots down, crouched down on all fours, and slinked toward the unsuspecting equine.

Sam descended the stairs from the porch deftly; this was not the first time he had done this. He inched closer and closer to the distracted Clydesdale, padding his way carefully over the grass and gravel until he was just a few yards behind Alex, who was strapping a tarp over the wood in the truck. Sam tensed his thighs in anticipation, bringing his haunches against his butt and digging his toes into the dirt. Alex stopped and his ears perked up. Sam had to act now. He uncoiled his legs and launched himself through the air.

"PONY RIDES!!!!" screamed Sam. He landed awkwardly on Alex's back and scrambled quickly to grab hold. He managed to steady himself and wrap his arms around Alex's shoulders.

"I ain't your horse" complained Alex. He put down his gloves and pouted melodramatically. Sam tugged at his neck, beckoning him to comply.

"Aww, come on. You know you are" said Sam, "Humph, well I guess I can't persuade you. Unless..." Sam reached a hand under Alexander's arm and started tickling him.

"Nope, not gonna work," stated Alex, "nope, nope, na-nope." His resolve weakened as Sam persisted in his motivation.

"NMmmm, uh-uh," Alex braced himself against the side of the truck. "I aint... NTMMM, AHAHAH. FINE, FINE I GIVE UP, I GIVE UP."

"Well then, I want three laps," commanded Sam. He spurred his newly complacent ride with his bare heel, "he-yaw horsie."

Alex grunted and grabbed Sam's legs to steady his passenger. He was spurred again and took off around the truck, trotting a wide oval around the rust bucket.

"Wheeee! He-yaw, he-yaw!" Sam was making the most of his victory, spurring his ride lightly and waiving a hand in the air. He loved being carried around by Alex, things were just better up here. As they rounded the truck for the third time they were met by Mr. Hamilton in his truck.

"What the hell y'all doin'?" barked Mr. Hamilton. Alex stopped running, but didn't put Sam down, as if ignoring his presence would make this look normal.

"Alexander, you need to get going, Mr. Jones needs that wood at the bakery soon." Mr. Hamilton looked up at Sam. "And Samuel, you need to... well just try to fuck up a little less today, ok?" He looked at the pair again, winced, and drove off before they could respond. They stood there in stunned silence. Sam took that moment to enjoy embracing his friend from behind. His strong shoulders and warmth were just so... Sam realized that way too much time had passed.

"I think he saw us" whispered Sam. They both burst out in laughter and Sam dismounted.

Sam gazed out the window as they rolled down the gravel driveway; he let his mind wander as trees passed him by. He contemplated writing to his parents that night. He did not write to them very often, maybe three times each summer, and he had yet to this year. His mother always liked to send him gifts while out here. He eventually persuaded her that he had no need for nice shirts out here, so the last thing she sent him was...

"OH SHIT!" Sam remembered, "I left my boots on the porch."

Alex slammed on the brakes. The truck reluctantly screeched to a halt, skidding all too little on the loose gravel. He punched Sam in the shoulder and started to turn the truck around.

"Damn it Sam, I am already going to be late."

"Hey, it's not my fault you are such a late sleeper," joked Sam. Alex gave him a stare that could stop an avalanche. Alex's uncle worked him pretty hard and Alex took pride in everything he did.

"Maybe you should set your alarm back three minutes. You know my dumbass is going to slow you down somehow." Sam looked up at the agitated stallion and grinned. Alex pulled up in front of the house and gave Sam a peeved grin.

"Just hurry up."

Sam bounded out of the truck and ran to the porch to get his boots, trying to make up for his prodding by being as quick as possible. He grabbed the boots and leapt from the steps of the porch onto the gravel. His right leg buckled as he landed on a jutting stone. Sam stumbled and did not fall, but he was still hurt. He tried to run, but managed only a light limping jog. Gravel sucks.

"Are you alright?" Alex looked concerned as Sam pulled himself back up into the truck and shut the door. Sam crossed his legs and looked at his paw, he was not bleeding or bruised, but it still hurt. He rubbed it a little.

"I will be fine," said Sam, still looking down at his injury. Alex pushed his hands out of the way and rubbed his paw, his thumbs massaging into the arch of his foot. Sam looked up; his friend had a stern, yet worried, expression on his face, staring intently at his injury. Alex's grip loosened to an almost casual hand hold as he drifted off into thought. He let go and started the truck again, not meeting Sam's gaze.

"Just try to not hurt yourself anymore today."

They drove along in silence. Alex had his attention firmly affixed to the road. Sam was perplexed by his friend; he wiggled his toes to try and elicit a response, but no such luck. Alex was hidden behind a thousand yard stare. He put his feet up on the dash and flexed his paws against each other; still nothing. Sam stared at him for a while more, gave up, and put on his boots.

It took them twenty minutes to reach the fields. Mr. Hamilton owned a lot of land, he had a few other people working for him, but it was pretty rare that Sam ever saw them. He would spend today plowing 15 acres of stagnant fields. It was boring, but he would much rather be on a tractor for eight hours than chop wood again. Maybe he would get done early and sneak in a nap.

They stopped next to the tractor. It was a big red hulk of a machine with a tilling trailer attached. Sam peered out at the field; the long shadows of daybreak had slinked away into morning.

"Well, here you are sir," announced Alex, with a foolish tone of servitude. "Your carriage awaits."

"Why thank you Gieves," replied Sam, trying to sound as regal as possible. He gave a symbolic flourish of his hand miming idiotic formalities. Alex mimicked him and smiled, turning his extended hand into a fist. Sam obliged his request and bumped his fist. He got out and stretched his hands above his head, swishing his tail. He turned around and tried to shut the door, it jammed, mocking Sam a little. He kicked it shut.

"I will be back by in a bit, uncle has me running errands all day," said Alex. "Do you want anything from the baker's?"

"Well, if they are all out of cake, I will take a cruller" said Sam.

"All right, two whole cakes it is. Good thing I have the truck for the day" Alex smacked the side of his door.

"That truck is a piece of shit."

"Hey, be nice to Matilda. She may be old, but she has character," replied Alex.

"Ugh, you named it? And after all these years, you call it Matilda?" Sam sneered.

"Yeah, she is a bit of a bitch." They both laughed.

"Alright, gotta go. Have fun," said Alex.

Sam watched him pull away. Gravel dust formed a trail of impending solitude behind the truck. He walked over to the open top tractor and climbed up. The keys were in the ignition, which was pretty normal around here. No one other than the Hamiltons ever used this road, and it would really suck if the keys ever got lost. The tractor rumbled awake and Sam threw it into gear.

Sam leaned back and howled over the noise of the engine. "Eight hours of fun, here I come!"

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After an hour Sam was bored out of his mind. He watched the same damn tree and pond get another 12 feet closer. He hated that tree and that pond. It mocked him. He waved his fist at them menacingly. If Alex can name his truck Matilda, he can name his new enemies. He will call them Gertrude and Mr. Carter.

"Fuck you Mr. Carter; your leaves are not so great. " Sam yelled at them so they could hear. He hesitated looked around, and stood up on the seat. Sam undid the snaps on his overalls and hurriedly forced in down around his ankles. The naked fox bent over and spanked his ass at the tree.

"Eat my fucking ass you little bitch tree." He smiled at his witty humor and straightened up, bare to the world. It felt good to be so exposed, maybe he would just spend the rest of the day like this. Sam scratched his balls and flicked his tail, heart light with his new found freedom. Then saw the road and his stomach sank, reminding him that this was not so private after all. Sam quickly got his overalls back on and pulled his tail through as if nothing had happened. He plopped back into his seat, feeling the familiar numbing vibration, and the oddly new confines of his clothes.

The field took about five minutes to traverse. At the end of each pass he swung the tractor around and continued turning the next twelve feet of hard ground into soft dirt. The sun was now far above the trees, which was nice because it was no longer blinding him. It was, however, getting hot again.

Sam had set the friction lock on the accelerator a while ago, letting the tractor move at a constant clip. After doing this job for two summers, he knew this tractor like the back of his hand. He wouldn't have to touch the gas pedal until about three when it would run out of gas and the gas truck would come by. Sam put his feet up on the wheel and leaned back. It is going to be a long day.

Sam looked up, a few clouds drifted through as otherwise clear sky. He couldn't get Alex out of his mind. Sure they had known each other for ever, but now... well now Sam looked forward to every minute they could spend together.

"Maybe I just want to grab his ass" Sam said aloud. He suppressed himself, both with what he said and that he said it out loud. He felt like he had to continue that thought.

"Maybe I love him." Shocked again, Sam smiled and crossed his arms. "Maybe I don't, or....aww fuck, I wish I knew. I wish he knew, I..." Sam was jarringly, and literally thrown out of his trance.

The world turned around him and Sam was thrown out of his seat. He watched as the tractor drifted away from him and then felt an icy chill knock the breath from his body. Sam gasped and floundered a bit until he got his bearings enough to see that he was in water. The tractor lay upside down, half submerged, a few feet away from him.

"SHIT," it's all Sam could say. "SHIT SHIT SHIT."

He slapped the water it frustration. He had rolled the tractor right into the lake. What am I going to do? Sam waded toward the tractor, slowly. Water was still making its way into every nook and crevice of his body. He touched the side of the tractor just as the cold water finished making its way into his boots. He shuddered at the sensation; then gave the tractor a half hearted push to try and right it.

"I am so screwed." Sam felt his heart race. He leaned his back against the fallen beast and tried to catch his breath. Mr. Hamilton is going to kill me. He watched the sun glint off of the quiet lake, the wave from his accident now returning to slosh against him in the waist deep water. The tractor was silent, it was a deafening sound.

Sam didn't know what to do, so he stood still. The water was up to his arm pits, but steadily warming. Some geese flew by in a lazy formation. He watched them slowly pass by and drift off into the distance. As they disappeared over the horizon, Sam pondered what they were seeing. Maybe they didn't even notice this soaked fox and his hundred thousand dollar mistake. Mentally grappling with the shock, Sam didn't hear the truck until its parking break ratcheted into place.

"HEY! ANY ONE HERE?" Sam's ears perked up. The voice was coming from the other side of the tractor. He stumbled through the water and hurried around the machine.

"I am here. I am ok." Sam rounded the corner and saw Alex standing on the bank of the lake. "Oh, it's you."

"What the fuck did you do?" Alex looked down at the soaked fox. He was taller than Sam to begin with, but the added height of the shore, and the gravity of his situation, made Sam feel even smaller.

"You are the best god damned tractor driver ever," joked Alex. He looked around, trying to figure out what happened; his stance was almost heroic to Sam.

"Just help me out of here," Sam sighed. He held out his hand and the Clydesdale dragged the waterlogged fox out of the water.

Sam stumbled to shore, making a dramatic recovery on the grass, feigning panting as he grabbed the grass and willed the embarrassment to pass. He was shaking and couldn't figure out why. Sam looked at his unsteady hands. He felt a hand on his shoulder and turned to see Alex standing next to him. The Clydesdale kneeled down to look at Sam. This was something he never did; he never brought himself down to the height of others. It was not for lack of humility since Alex was certainly not full of himself, he just wasn't the kneeling type.

"Are you ok?" asked Alex, speaking calmly and clearly.

Alex looked at Sam. He must look terrible to deserve this much attention. Sam stared back into his hazel eyes. Oh that's right, they are hazel, how could I forget. Sam tried to say something, but couldn't think of anything. Alex saw this and drew him close with a big hug. Alex's big arms felt so welcoming, his own shelter, Sam's home away from home. If he was still enough, he could feel the Clydesdale's heard beat. Warm eternity enveloped him. Alex set go and stood up, bringing Sam back to Earth.

"Thanks," said Sam.

He looked around at the scene before him. Matilda was parked a few yards away. Alex had driven it straight across the field, the wheels dug into the field pretty badly. Sam turned around to look at how badly he screwed up. The tilled soil showed, quite clearly, that the tractor drifted steeply off course, right into the lake. There was no questioning it, Sam screwed this up.

"Your uncle is going to kill me."

Sam may actually cry. Why the fuck would I cry? That tractor probably cost less than their house....their house...oh god. He gasped.

Alex saw his expression drop and stepped forward, flexing his biceps. "Hey, didn't you know, we Hamiltons lift tractors for our warm-ups, this is nothing." Sam waited a beat and looked up, giving Alex the audience he wanted.

Alex flexed his chest and butt. Grunting louder and louder with each increasingly ridiculous pose. Front double biceps, side chest, beating his chest a-la King Kong; he managed to get a chuckle from Sam with a discus pose accompanied by a guttural scream. His ears perked up and he straightened his spine, smiling at his friend's laugh.

"Well, I don't know about you, but I could use a workout." Without hesitation, Alex jumped off the embankment, disappearing over the edge. Sam, not quite sure if Alex was serious, quickly scampered to the edge of the lake to find out.