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He stares.

I stare back.

His silver eyes gaze deeply into my own sky blues, a challenge of dominance is silently being played out, here in the frozen forest. A thick footing of snow covers the ground, chilly against my foot paws and knees, even though my smoky grey fur keeps the rest of my body warm. The leopards own fur, a slightly darker shade than mine, is slowly disappearing as snow settles on his back, neck, and head. The forest is silent, only the sound of the trees slowly creaking in the wind and my own breathing reaches my ears, the same wind gently ruffling my fur. I catch the scent of the feral leopard, a hint of male musk reaching my nose. 'Must be a female in heat nearby.' I think to myself, guessing that he's either just seen her, or is looking for her. I ready my compound bow, nocking an arrow in case he attacks me, as he probably sees me as a competitor for this female. Suddenly, a roar echoes through the trees, and the feral leopard looks away, in the direction the sound comes from. His challenge with me lost, the leopard passes me one last glance, his eyes flickering to mine for a fleeting moment, before he departs, running through the snow, muscles coiling and unleashing as he leaps a fallen log, before disappearing from my sight with a flick of his black tail tip. Sighing, I relax and stand up. Seeing such a powerful, positively regal creature is why I do this. Why I come out into the forests surrounding my home, and just walk. The bow is the only thing I bring with me; that, and a small quiver of hand-made arrows. My clothes are back at my truck, as I prefer to go without, my fur more than enough even in this climate, and it just feels more right. It helps me feel closer to the nature surrounding me, and my snowy white underside helps me blend into the snow, with dark rosette markings covering my back, leading into spots on my long tail. I am a Snow Leopard Anthro, and I'm quite proud to not have any unusual markings - no neon green stripes or bright pink rosettes, like I'd seen on some others. I quickly bend over, stretching out a cramp in my right leg, while also slinging the bow over my back, using the bowstring like a strap across my chest. One paw in front of the other, I begin walking back to where I'd parked my truck, the snow crunching underneath me, leaving a trail of deep paw prints in the snow behind me. There's no marked path through this forest, but I remember the way exactly. A turn to the south at a fallen tree has me pointed in the right direction. Eventually, I step out of the treeline, and into a large, snow-covered clearing. At the top end of the clearing, a large house stands, shrouded in temporary coverings against the recent snows. It's been somewhat of a pet project for me. I and a friend had started building this place on my father's land nearly two years ago today. I can still picture it, clad in local wood, with massive eaves and a shingled roof covered in snow. Progress was slow at the start, when I had to take a coach every weekend for three hours from my tiny flat and office job further south. My thoughts are interrupted by the sound of a truck's engine growling through the forest. I can hear the contents of the flatbed crashing around as it bounces along my driveway, and the familiar red pickup emerges from the treeline as I reach the construction site. Running a paw along the framework for the large veranda, I smile wide and call out to the driver of the red pickup, a white lump of fur by the name of Saveliy Boris Alkaev, as he parks up next to my own truck. "Hey, Boris!" I greet the big polar bear, while placing my bow and quiver in the flatbed of my truck. The bear chuckles and gets out of his vehicle, the body rocking on its well-worn suspension. "Nude Nolan." He says, grinning and gesturing to my still nude form. I know the bear well enough by now that being nude around him isn't an issue any more. In fact, on days like today, when the grey skies opted to hang onto the snow, he'd take off his egg-stained wife-beater and join me, albeit partly. I never pushed him. "You ready to get roofing?" I ask, walking over and leaning on the side of the truck as he fishes through his tools, loose in the bed of the pickup. "Yep. All the tiles still here?" he asks, and I wave a hand towards the roof, where the tiles are visible as bumps under the snow-covered tarpaulins over the unfinished area. "They sure are. I guess I'll get started?" I suggest. "I'll join you once I find my tool." He says, winking at me. Smirking, I turn and walk away, snatching up my own tools. If you were dumb enough to not figure it out from his name, Boris is a proud Russian, and he drinks vodka like water; and his 'tool' is a hip flask of that fiery liquid. I quickly scale the walls, using the unfinished frameworks as a ladder, and go to where I'd been working a few days ago. I brush some snow aside first, with a flick of my tail, and then untie the rope holding the tarpaulin to the roof. With the weight of the snow bearing down on it, the massive expanses of plastic slides off the roof, followed with a loud 'thump' as the snow lands on the ground. "Oi, watch where you're dropping that shit, oyobuk!" Comes a shout in Russian from below. I chuckle, reach for a shingle, and start working. "Don't stand in the way, then!" I call back. I hear as the lid of the polar bears hip flask is opened, and then him taking a swig of the contents before recapping it, before he climbs the scaffolding to the roof, the wooden platform groaning under his bulk. A muted grumble passes his lips, but he goes to work without saying anything more...

Hours go by in a blur of activity, Boris and I just working constantly. At some point, the exertion has the polar bear warmed enough that he sheds his own shirt, and he tosses it to the ground.

With a sigh of relief, I hammer the last nail home. "And that, my friend, is that." I announce loudly, setting the hammer aside and leaning back. "Want to call it a day, then? You probably want to go, anyway, you know?" the bear calls out from ground level. Chuckling at the bear's laziness, I take a deep breath before replying "Yeah. It's probably about time I get back." I start climbing down, and I'm partway to the ground when I hear another vehicle approaching. I'd recognise the local police officers cruiser anywhere -with that tell-tale misfire that needs to be fixed but still hasn't been - but I'm curious as to why he'd be so far out in the woods...

"Afternoon, gentlemen." The Doberman says, getting out of the cruiser and straightening the glistening badge on his uniformed chest. Smirking at the way his eyes scan my nude form, I lean against the doorframe. "Afternoon, Officer McAndrews. What brings you to my little piece of paradise?" "Your large friend here. The guys at the shop need you again." The canine says, pointing to Boris. The bear nods. "Sure. I'll get right over." The officer and I both watch as the slightly intoxicated polar bear gets in his truck and heads off, a big paw reaching out the window to wave a goodbye before he disappears from view. "Must you be nude?" The officer asks me with an exasperated sigh. I smirk and turn to him. "It's my house. I can be nude if I want." Regardless, I head to my truck, open the passenger side door and start dressing in my clothes. Just a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, nothing more is needed. "Fair. Just don't go flashing the town, okay?" I manage to give him a 'thumbs up' gesture as I pull my t-shirt over my head. He gets back in his cruiser, door slamming loud enough that I jump slightly, and starts the engine. Wrenching the neck of the t-shirt past my muzzle, I watch as the vehicle heads into the forest, and then walk around to the driver's side of my truck once he's vanished and hop in, starting the engine. I back the truck up and turn the nose towards the track through the forest, and pause. I hunch over the steering wheel and look out at the house - my house - and smile. It's going to be a great home when it's finished. Turning to the path ahead, I start driving, thinking about how I got to this point. Back when I first designed the house, it was just a little cabin. One storey, one big open space with a separate bathroom. And then things changed. I wanted to make it bigger. I wanted space to be able to entertain guests. So, the house got bigger and the big veranda came into existence, so I could have guests out there to watch the sunsets - as the beautiful nature of the sunsets is what made me want to build here in the first place. The kitchen got bigger as well, I remember the original plan had only a small workspace, but I changed it to be much bigger, with a new island counter. In that revision, the bedroom was also made to be separated by a wall and door, but still keep the view. But, then I decided to add a guest room. And then, I decided that I wanted to build a house that I could raise a family in. So, I added another floor, and brought the bedroom count up to four. Luckily, the slow pace of construction early on gave me the chance to expand and change plans. My tires spin a bit as I reach the end of my driveway, throwing up some loose gravel as the pitted dirt track rolls onto an old, tarmac road. The road markings have long since worn away, so I just drive straight down the middle - I'll pull to the right if I come across traffic, not that I expect any. Mine, Boris' and the officer's vehicles are probably the only ones to ply this particular stretch of tarmac. Things really changed when I moved out here full time, though. I quit my shitty office job in the city, and rented a run-down old trailer. I got a job working at the local building supply store, and started building whenever I got the chance. The manager of the shop - a female wolf everyone calls Tess - even gives me a discount on building materials, which I'm especially glad for. I'm also glad that this town is small - just a couple hundred permanent citizens, with another hundred or so during the winter season that work in nearby ski resorts, so a lot of the people here are friendly and willing to help out a neighbour in need. As I'm driving, I see a few familiar faces around town, and I wave back to the few who wave first. I round a corner, and the somewhat run-down houses give way to the trailer park where I've lived for nearly two years. The area looks so clean, with snow covering the lawns and patios, and thick blankets of white on all the roofs. Finally, I reach my trailer. It's a double-wide, with a red paint job on the aluminium siding that I had only recently re-done in an attempt to keep it looking tidy. I park next to the second-hand Audi S4 Avant in the driveway, and kill the trucks engine. Hopping out, it's just a few steps in the snow to the front door of the trailer, and I open it just enough to slip inside, not wanting to let any of the warm air inside escape outside. "Hey, sweetie." I say, seeing my partner sitting on the sofa, his laptop in his lap and his fingers dancing across the keyboard. Ryan is a beautiful Red Fox, his fur a lovely shade of burnt orange, with a white underbelly, and two cute little stripes on his muzzle. His black nose is extremely 'boop'-able, and I often do just that, much to his chagrin. His fluffy tail is laid next to him on the sofa, the end lazily waving from side-to-side like a pendulum off the edge. "Hey. How was your walk this morning?" he asks, smiling up at me. "It was lovely. And I got to see a feral Snow Leopard today." I tell him, sitting down on the sofa next to him and kissing his lips. "Ooh, I wish I could see it." He says after the kiss ends, smiling and nuzzling into my neck. The fox was always the 'cuddly' type, and I loved him even more for it. Nothing beats a hard days working followed by warm cuddles with the fur I love. "He might come back. We might see him from the house, even." I say, reaching a paw up to gently stroke his headfur. The fox chuckles. "That'd be nice." We sit there for a few minutes, me just holding him close. "We finished the roof today." I say, breaking the silence. "Really? Can we go have a look? I'd like to see it." This time I have a chuckle. "Aw, are you feeling all cooped up, here at home?" I ask, knowing full well the answer. "Yes!" he whines. Ryan's as much a free spirit as me, he loves joining me for my walks whenever he can. Admittedly, it took him a while to get used to my nudist streak, but as soon as he was comfortable, he wanted to come every time. In fact, it was how we met. He was out walking in the same forest as me, and we ran into each other. Needless to say, we hit it off so well we started dating, and then moved in together. I still claim he's the reason I moved here, and, although he seems embarrassed by the idea, I think he's flattered by the sentiment. Sighing and chuckling again, I help him to his feet. "Okay. Let's go." I say, setting his laptop computer on the coffee table. I was first surprised when I found out about Ryan, but 'everything happens for a reason', and now the c-boy fox is pregnant, nearly seven months so, and I have been very protective of him and our unborn child. Way back when, when we got engaged, we gave it plenty of thought, and both of us wanted a family. Two seasons after we got married, we finally got what we wanted. Now, with a cub on the way, I've been trying fervently to finish the house, getting Boris in to help when I can, and I've even been asking a few of my other friends if they'll help in exchange for a beer or two. I lead the smiling fox out into the cool air, although not before making sure he has his jacket on, and to the truck.We get in, and do up our safety belts. Starting the engine, I back out onto the street, then turn and head back towards the forest. I take one paw from the wheel and find Ryan's, holding it tightly. He squeezes happily, and we make the drive in silence. I drive carefully, not wanting to cause the fox any discomfort, but it pains me to see him grimace as the truck rock and bump along once we reach the driveway. His expression changes once the framework house comes into view, though. "Wow." He says, once we hop out and are standing ankle-deep in the snow. I walk around the hood of the truck and wrap my arms around his midriff. "I've been working hard, for you, sweet." I tell him, leaning in for a kiss. The fox happily kisses me back. He finishes the kiss and pulls back, looking towards the house again. "It looks so amazing. I can't wait until we're moved in, it's going to be such a great place to raise Beau and Brianna." "I think the kids will love it." I say. We were surprised initially to find that Ryan was carrying twins. One girl, one boy. It certainly ended any disagreements about what gender our baby is going to be. We walk over to the house and I help him up onto the snow-covered entry porch. "Just imagine, opening the front door - our front door." I describe, making the movements and inviting the fox inside. He smiles and steps inside. "The hardwood floor under-paw, the warm lighting..." I add, following him inside. Together, we step over to the large bay window. We're going to have a nice bench seat here, with lots of big, plush cushions, so we can sit and enjoy the view. "This view..." he murmurs, one paw reaching back, searching for mine. I grin and step up behind him, gently pushing his tail aside and pressing my chest to his back. He lifts my right paw to his muzzle and kisses the top of my paw. I rest my chin on his shoulder and breathe deeply of his scent. His scent is always welcoming and calming for me. The sweet smell of vanilla, intertwined with a spicy, tangy smell like paprika, as well as the slightly artificial scent of our strawberry scented shampoo. Also present is the smell of the wintery forest around us; the unique smell of winter - of snow and the cold - as well as the tang of pine and the slight musk of all the animals that live around us. For minutes the two of us just stand there, enjoying each other's presence, my paws roaming over Ryan's pregnant dome of a belly, his paws on top of mine, his tail intertwined with mine. "Look." The fox suddenly says, breaking me from my trance. I follow his pointing finger to the middle of the glade. A familiar pair of silver eyes is watching us, the white and grey furred body hunched down against the snow. "It's him." I say. The fox hums, and we both look at the feral Snow Leopard.

He stares.

We stare back...