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A crisp, repeating melody jarred Astrid awake. Dreams dissolving, she groaned into her downy pillow. What ... Sky-blue eyes peeked open. The bedroom was still dark, indicating it was sometime 'before sunrise.' The sound persisted. That couldn't have been her alarm? In a sudden, groggy panic, the lop rabbit fumbled for her phone (which was on the bedside stand). It was inactive. Right. Putting the phone back, Astrid sighed. With a shimmy, she rolled the other way, blankets billowing around her bare, furry body. She had a short, curvy build, her soft pelt a splotchy, piebald mix of caramel and cream. "Ky ... " No response. "Kyler," she said again, nudging the slumbering, athletic male beside her. Her lover, a river otter. The ringing (it had been a call, not an alarm) must've gone to voice mail, because his phone vibrated and buzzed with a 'new message.' She used her big, hoppy foot-paws to give Kyler a harmless kick. "Mmmf!" he went. "Noen ringer deg," the Norwegian stated in her native tongue. Kyler yawned widely, one brown eye peeking open. He wasn't multi-lingual. "Huhh?" Astrid took a deep breath, clearing her head. English came back to her, and her accented voice translated, "Someone is calling? You should check." She yawned, too. (Maybe it was contagious.) "Or put it on silent?" "What time is it?" Kyler asked distractedly, looking to the window. Their room was three stories up (in one of the 'Olympic Village' residencies), and the curtains were drawn to reveal a shadowed, snowy townscape with mountains in the moon-splashed background. "I was also wondering. It is either early," the tired lop decided, turning away from him and burrowing back under the covers with a naked shimmy. "Or late." She closed her eyes. "I do not wish to know." Kyler reached for his phone (to both check the time and see who called). "Guhhh." Eyes reopening, the Astrid's head peeked back into view, nose sniffing. "Who was it?" she asked curiously. "Mom," he said. "I told her not to call me! I said I'd call her." Kyler's family was back in the States, in Eastern Washington. Which was, oh, a good ten time zones away? It was still yesterday there. "Maybe it was important." "Nah. She just likes to gab." Kyler checked the 'text translation' of the call. "Yup." The otter put the phone away and got back under the covers, eagerly spooning against Astrid and murmuring against her neck, "It's almost 3:30, for the record." "Oh-three-thirty," Astrid mumbled. "Hmm?" "Twenty-four-hour clock." "Why do I always forget about that?" "Cause you're American." The otter chuckled. It was February, and the globe-trotting couple was in Italy for the latest Winter Olympics. The Games, which had begun yesterday, were being split between Milan (indoor) and Cortina (outdoor). By good fortune, Kyler and Astrid were both in the latter, which meant they had two weeks together. They'd first met in China at the Beijing Games four years ago, where Kyler had won an unexpected gold medal (which he'd since parlayed into other opportunities). The charismatic, chocolate-brown mustelid, now thirty-two, was a sledder (skeleton sled; the daredevil 'belly-first' kind) and, when not competing, a color commentator for American TV, reality show host, and general Olympic ambassador. Astrid, meanwhile, was a reporter for a Norwegian sports network (TV 2 Sportskanalen). He 'regular' job was following the sole Norwegian driver (Leif, an Arctic fox) on the Formula One auto racing circuit, but as they didn't race in winter it left her open to cover Olympics, hockey, and other 'cold weather' events. Since Norway always dominated winter sports (the Games had just started, and they already were atop the medal count!), Astrid didn't lack for stories and interviews. She had a busy slate on her paws, including today, when she was scheduled to be at the Predazzo Ski Jump Stadium as part of her network's multi- view coverage. Kyler wasn't competing today. Officially. But the Cortina Sliding Center was going to be open for training runs after the completion of 'luge,' and he needed to familiarize himself with the track. He'd memorized the virtual layout, but that couldn't prepare you for the real thing. The otter wasn't favored to repeat his gold (no one had ever won multiple golds in male Olympic skeleton; and since he'd never even won gold at Worlds, many considered his 2022 success to be a fluke), but no matter. He liked the edge of being the 'underdog' and hoped, at least, to get back on the podium! Regardless of how he did, he had no plans on giving up anytime soon. His goal was to make it to the 2034 Games in Salt Lake City. He'd be forty and could retire at a 'home' Games in front of his family. Kyler kissed Astrid's soft, bare shoulder, hugging her from behind as he whispered, "She asks about you." "Who?" "Mom." "You've told her of me?" the bunny asked with surprise, twisting about to face him. He gently cupped her breasts with a webbed paw. He loved touching with them, playing with them. "Of course." There was a moment of silence. Then Astrid wondered, "What, uh ... what do you say? I mean, what do they know?" He rubbed the 'webs' of his paws over her nipples. "That you're my hot, Nordic fuck-bunny." "No, you did not!" Kyler laughed, paws pulling back. "Alright, so I don't put it like that ... but she knows our 'situation'." The otter and rabbit were in love. Their chemistry had been evident the moment they'd met! (After he'd wiped out on a training run, Astrid interviewed him on his way to the medical check. His swagger and bravado in that moment, brushing off danger and consequence? And then making a pass at her? She'd been left weak at the knees. That night, she'd ended up in his bed.) But being from different countries and constantly traveling for work? It wasn't feasible to be devoted mates. They only managed to see each other (in person, at least; they video- chatted often) once a year. (They'd been together in Beijing, Lillehammer, Miami, Quebec ... now, Cortina.) Rather than lose each other, they'd agreed to an 'open relationship.' Built on honesty and trust, it had worked for them so far. Astrid was also involved with an Australian wallaby, an F1 driver named Wick. He was Leif's teammate. (She had a thing for athletes. Fortunately, they also had a thing for her.) Currently, the marsupial was splitting the offseason between Melbourne and Toowoomba (where his family was). She'd be with him again in a month, when racing season began. Kyler, meanwhile, didn't have a singular 'other.' When not with Astrid, the otter was very much a playboy. One of his favorite recurring partners was Zora, a giant Indian squirrel. A fellow reality star (most famously of the home improvement show 'Squirrel Your Stuff') and Olympic medalist, she was in Cortina, too! Working for American TV. She'd been part of the 'Opening Ceremonies' broadcast and was now shuffling between events. Kyler had told Astrid that the squirrel was here in the mountains (Zora had excitedly texted him the news) and he would probably 'catch up' with her sometime. "Ky ... " The rabbit wriggled beneath the sheets. "Yeah, babe?" "With Zora." A pause. "By 'catch up,' do you mean ... ?" "Should I avoid her?" he asked gently, indirectly answering the question. "That's ... that's sweet." Astrid was genuinely touched by Kyler's offer. "But no." She paused before adding, "Tell her I said hello." "I will." Astrid knew they'd only gotten this far by leaving jealousy at the door. If either of them became possessive? This whole 'open' arrangement would fall apart. They had to go at this 'headfirst' or not at all. Kyler, in fact, got along swimmingly with Wick (they had surprisingly become 'bros,' to the point of them having an impromptu threesome with Astrid), so it was only fair the rabbit accepted his other partners in return. It would be wildly hypocritical not to. Right? "She wants to meet you, too," Kyler told Astrid, of Zora. "You're very popular!" Astrid bit on her lip, head rustling on her pillow. "What's wrong?" "I'm not popular." A pause. "And I'm not jealous about it, if that's what you're thinking ... " "I wasn't." Her nose twitched. "I guess it's just ... you are- so is Zora-I can't compete?" "So, you're not jealous?" the otter said with confusion. "No, it's not ... I don't know the English words for it." Her nose twitched. "Um ... how do you say ... " She sighed on his chest. The lop had always been a little 'insecure.' Being with Kyler and Wick, such hot, confident guys, had upped her confidence greatly. But, sometimes, she reverted to her old ways and couldn't help but feel, "Inadequate?" "Mm. That is a word," Kyler confirmed. After a moment, he continued, "You know what I think?" Astrid remained quiet, waiting for it. "I think no one compares to you. You're one-of-a-kind." He lowered his voice, indicating he was speaking with genuine emotion. "You know if I could mate you permanently, I would. You're more than enough for me. More than 'adequate'." His breaths were audible. "But ... we can't, and this compromise? I feel like we've made it work." "We have ... " She couldn't deny that. And when they weren't together, it was fine! But when she was with him again? Astrid clung to his perfect, thick-pelted body, hiding her face on his shoulder. Kyler rubbed her back, soothing her. "I'm sorry," she mumbled. "I just ... it's been so long ... " They'd last been together twelve months ago in Montreal, for a single night. "And I'm getting ... all my emotions, you know?" She sniffed. "It's a lot." "I know, bun ... " Astrid breathed of him. She sometimes wondered: If they were actually able to be together permanently and saw each other all the time, every day ... would this longing diminish? Would their passion become normal? Would they lose their spark? Did it matter? As Americans say: 'It is what it is.' Astrid, being honest, whispered, "She ... intimidates me?" "Who? Zora?" A dainty nod. "Why? I'm not intimidated by Wick." "It's different." "How?" "Just ... I don't know ... " She wished, in this moment, that Kyler could speak her language. She was so tired. It was the middle of the night and trying to explain herself in fluent English was a gargantuan task. "You're both athletes. Extroverts. Bold, unafraid ... " "Heh, so we're the same? Even in bed? Could you tell us apart blindfolded?" "Stop it," she murmured at his teasing. "I still don't see what this has to do with Zora." "She is an athlete, a model, a star. Also an extrovert, yes?" Astrid listed. "Mmhmm. Aaand ... she also really wants to meet you," he reiterated. "But why?" "In an open relationship, everyone needs to be on the same page. All partners are connected. She gets that. She doesn't want to meet you to 'size you up.' She wants to be close to you because I am." He paused before emphasizing, "She's not scary at all, bun. She's fun to be around. You'll love her. She'll love you." The otter couldn't resist adding, "Heh. Well. Maybe not exactly like me ... unless you're open to that?" Hmm. A threesome with two favorite girls? That'd be hot. "She's definitely bi." At Astrid's silence, he reminded, "You made me have a threesome with you and Wick!" "Made you?" Astrid echoed. "You're very persuasive. A regular penis charmer." The otter considered himself straight. Wick was the only other guy he'd gotten 'intimate' with. With Astrid between them as referee and observer, it had somehow felt okay to explore ... just a little tiny bit. He hadn't followed up on it, though. The rabbit retorted lightly, "Is that an Olympic event? Penis charming?" "One of the 'after dark' ones, probably. You own all the records." "I do?" "Mmhmm." Astrid smiled, snuggling good and close and promising, feeling better, "I'll meet her ... Zora ... just that I'm so busy these Games? Since Norway is kicking everyone's ass." Kyler laughed at her 'smack talk.' "Surely, that'd give you more time. If everything is a foregone conclusion?" "Mm, maaaaybe," was Astrid's lazy, yawn-interrupted reply. Her heavy eyes finally shut, a vortex of fatigue pulling her back toward the dreamy void. Kyler kissed her head. "Sweet dreams." Soon, they were both back to sleep. Three, two, one ... "We're on air," the producer said in their ears. Splashy graphics gave way to a snowy, on-location drone shot, with 'Summon the Heroes' playing over it. "Hello and g'day to those back in the States," a male kangaroo (with an Australian accent) said from a nondescript broadcast booth. He smiled at the camera. "I'm Leigh. And, folks, you are about to experience sixteen curves of beauty and precision." "But enough about me!" said the tall, rainbow-colored squirrel beside him. An 'Indian giant squirrel.' Female, clearly American. Bright and bubbly with a 'Valley Girl' vibe. "Ha, ha! No, we're talking about the mountain, of course. We're up in the Dolomites here in Cortina, Italy, with luge legend status on the line." She turned to Leigh and flashed a bucktoothed smile after saying this. "That's right, Zora." The music faded out as the roo explained, "The males are first up. Twenty-five athletes from fifteen nations remain after yesterday's qualifying cut. Four runs for the podium, but the field will be whittled further down after the second run. So! Who's the favorite? Well, the Germans own this discipline. They swept the luge podium in Beijing 2022. And they've advanced three into this round ... represented by a marmot, a mountain hare, and a stag. So, they could do it again!" "Totally! Of the fifty-two golds handed out in luge all-time, combining singles, doubles, and relay, Germany has won thirty- nine of them!" Zora recited, as a chyron popped up below her that said: Summer Olympic Medalist - Silver, Beach Volleyball, 2024. She continued, "But luge isn't for us 'big tails,' cause you gotta lay very snug and streamlined on your back, right? So, you'll see a lot of rabbits, rats, deer ... marmots and hedgehogs. Those with 'nubs' or thin, ropy tails. Folks with super long, thick, or fluffy rudders? Typically race bobsled, where they can tuck their tail wholly inside the sled, orrrr ... skeleton! Which is the belly- down, face-first sledding, where they can use their tail for steering instead of dead weight." "Would we ever see you on a sled, Zora?" the roo teased. "Ha, ha, nah, I'd rather ride a sledder." Before her innuendo (almost delivered with a wink) could be registered, she quickly added, "Luge is actually faster than skeleton, but I think skeleton is crazier. I mean ... it's called skeleton!" "And bobsled?" "I'd get claustrophobic!" The roo chuckled. "And, rest assured, we'll get to both skeleton and bobsled as the Games progress. But for now? Luge," Leigh reiterated. "And first up: Niko, an Austrian bull." The camera view switched to the 'international track feed,' which the kangaroo and squirrel then commented over. "He is built, Leigh." Zora practically huffed (unable to conceal her admiration; the squirrel's bushy tail whooshed so hard it was picked up by her microphone). The bovine, a Jersey (light tan coloring with white patches and a deer-like face), welcomed the world's attention, preening as he waited for the go signal. "Normally, sledders are on the trimmer side," Zora said, from 'experience.' It was a cold, wintry day in the Alps, but Niko wasn't affected. He ran hot-blooded. Wearing a hide-tight outfit (red and white, like his country's flag) that didn't hide his physique (bulges included), he stomped a sharp, jet-black hoof on the ice, nostrils flaring, vapor rushing out of them like a double steam whistle. His ropy, brush-tip tail gave a single whip. "He might just melt the track when he takes to it," Zora added. Niko, putting on a helmet with circular gaps in the top for his horns, lowered himself onto his sled, sitting upright, grabbing the launch handles. He flexed, moving the sled (and himself) back and forth, priming for the start of his run. He wore gloves with spikes on the fingers. Leigh confirmed, "He does have a lot of attitude and power, as you'd expect ... one of the best launches from the sport ... leaves the starthouse like a bullet. Wow, look at him go!" Pushing off the start bars, the bull's hands slapped the ice, spikes digging in to help propel him further down the starting slope. Once he was far enough down, he laid back and quickly got into position. The sound of the sled scraping the ice was distinctly audible as a 'drone cam' followed the bull from behind, giving a dizzying view of the speed. "So aerodynamic. Those hooves practically slice through the air in front of him." The camera switched to a stationary view. Niko zipped past. Again, the angle changed. Zip! Back to drone cam. "But his weight has a tendency to slide him up the walllll ... yup, right there," Leigh warned. "Ooh! Little high in the entrance to four, too. He had the same problem in quals. That's gonna scrub some speed." "Big 'Welcome to the Olympics' moment. You train for years for this opportunity and there's a mistake right at the start? Luge takes no prisoners!" Zora declared. "The good thing is he has three more runs." "Yes, but there's a cut line after two! You can't start in too deep a hole." "Can he salvage this one? This track is a mile long, after all." "Top-tier athletes, which is everyone on this stage, have to compartmentalize," Zora said. "Ultra focus. Block everything out. Yes. He can do it." "Ooh!" "I take it back! Little bit high at the end of nine! Wow, almost fell out of it! See him pinballing as he saves it." "Approaching the line. Let's watch for the time ... fifty-five seconds. Obviously, he's the leader being first out, but that time won't stand. It's three seconds off the top training runs. He'll need to have a perfect second attempt to advance." "Yeahhhh ... I'd already rule him out of gold contention, honestly. The competition is just too good. He's gotta aim for the bottom of the podium." Spectators rang cowbells as Niko sat up and skidded to a stop. "You can see him shaking his horned head," Leigh said. "He wishes he could have that one back." "Oh, he's seeing red, for sure." When the first half of male 'singles luge' was done (the second half, when medals were given, would be tomorrow, followed by 'luge doubles' and 'team relay,' then skeleton; bobsled would be the last days of the Games), the track was opened for training. Each sledder was allowed up to six training runs. Kyler was first in line. Deep breath. No, even deeper. Hold it. Exhale. Another breath. Go! The otter sprinted across the start line. He leapt, soaring horizontally and landing perfectly on his sled on his belly with an 'oomph!', immediately tucking himself into a streamlined shape, his long, tapered rudder tail (fitted with a tight, aerodynamic sock) nestled just above his legs. As he approached each turn, his tail shifted his weight one way or another, effectively 'steering' the sled and keeping him from sliding up the walls. He watched, hardly blinking behind the visor of his helmet, head mere inches from the hard, cold ice. At eighty miles an hour, the world was a biting, wintry blur. Zip! Whooosh! ZIP! Turn, straight, turn. A crash at this speed, head-first? He'd taken some spills (including right before he'd met Astrid). Gotten concussed and worse. But you just couldn't think about it. High-speed sledding, like most sports, was all instinct. Muscle memory. It was almost feral. If you relied on your conscious intellect? You were cooked. Kyler felt good about this attempt. As he crossed the line, he raised his tail and spread his legs and arms to slow his speed before he reached the buffers. He heard more cowbells as his sled came to a stop. He hopped up, picking up the sled and raising his visor, squinting at the timing board. The otter was panting, completely out of breath. As much from the adrenaline that lingered in his system as the exertion itself (it took more effort than it looked not to fall off the sled on the trip down). One minute, sixty tenths of a second. Hmm. He calculated in his head. If he did that four times, it would amount to, what ... four minutes, two seconds? He needed to shave a quarter to a third of a second off each run to be in medal contention. Which didn't seem like a lot to a casual observer, but when you were in the sled? It was a tall task. The difference between 'nobody' and 'pantheon' was often razor thin. Still heaving, his breath visibly seeping from his helmet, he shuffled away from the track as the lights indicated another sled was about to launch. He had to do better. He couldn't go into the competition knowing he was already at a deficit. Yeah, he was four years older than Beijing, and this was a different course, different ice. And no one had achieved multiple golds in male skeleton. But- "You're an otter, Kyler. Just slide," he muttered aloud, trying to pump himself up. "You got this! Let's go!" "Yeahhh, you do," a light, familiar voice affirmed. Taking off his helmet and tucking it under his shoulder, the otter turned. His eyes lit up. "Zora?" "The one and only!" The tropical squirrel, comically decked out in a puffy parka and ostentatious scarf (among other things; she did not take well to the cold), approached the river otter. "Hey, Ky." "Hey, yourself," he breathed back, dropping his helmet to the ice and hugging the unique rodent before he could stop himself. Zora hugged back, pressing her nose against his neck. Gosh! Otters had the best fur. He felt like a heater after that run of his. "So, um ... you got a sec?" she asked hopefully. "How long's it been? Six months?" Zora wondered, bent over, orange paws planted on the wall. They were in the American broadcast booth, which was cramped but heated. (And conveniently empty for the rest of the day.) The squirrel looked over her shoulder with warm, golden eyes, her pants around her ankles. "Five. LA, last September," Kyler answered with a distracted huff, ogling and then groping the rodent's furry, bushy-tailed ass. Such a bold swirl of fruity colors. Grape, pomegranate, raspberry. "Oh! Right!" They'd both attended the Emmy Awards representing their ensemble shows, which were nominated or 'Best Reality Series.' Him for 'Sledding With the Stars' and her for 'Squirrel Your Stuff.' 'Mouse Your House' took home the trophy (for the fourth time; it had yet to lose when nominated). They'd met up afterward, where they'd wined, dined, and fucked each other silly. "Sooo ... did you miss me?" Zora asked with a grin, swishing her long, banner-like tail. Kyler, his 'Stars and Stripes' uniform still on (and sled propped up against the announcers' desk), made a show of inching his pelt-tight Spandex pants down to his thighs, below his soft, furry balls. His cock was standing to attention. Six-and-a-quarter inches. Upright and drooling from the blunt, pink head, a big vein visibly bulging on the side of the shaft. "This answer your question?" the otter asked. "Like an exclamation point!" Kyler chuckled. He was supposed to be training. He had a gold medal to defend! But the sight of that tail (arcing like a rainbow) and her pouty, dewy sex? (Oh, she clearly wanted it. Wanted him! Badly enough to pounce on him and drag him here.) His erection throbbed at the memory of how she felt. The urge to feel it-to feel her- again? "Have at it, champ," Zora teased, widening her stance as far as she could. "Before I start begging." She still had her shirt on (with the network's logo on it), and her press credential swung from a lanyard around her neck. The otter gripped his cock and guided it to her sex. Wedging the tip inside her and letting go, he gripped her hips and plunged in. He shivered hotly, eyes scrunching shut. "Ah ... " He pulled back and delivered a full-contact thrust. "Ahh ... you feel great." "Y-you don't feel bad, yourself," Zora groaned, sex clenching around his. Her buckteeth comically jutted as she reached down and rubbed her clit, tail furling around his shoulders. Kyler didn't dawdle, settling into a full-rhythm rutting, occasionally reigning himself in, slowing, grinding to a teasing stop, only to speed up once more. Zora chittered! Eventually, he reached around with a webbed, dark-clawed paw, nudging her orange paw out of the way and rubbing her sensitive, engorged clit himself. While he fucked her. Growling in her ear as he covered her backside. "Ohhh!" The squirrel was beside herself, barking, slumping against the wall, body rocking with each of Kyler's thrusts. The otter started to tingle in all the best ways. He was close! Oh, he was so- "Ah! Ah!" he gasped, breath hitching. Body tensing as he lost it. Burying balls-deep, his eyes squeezed shut as he shuddered in ecstasy. Zora chittered. She wasn't far behind! Muscles soon clenching, milking him. Her limbs trembled from full-body bliss, tail flagging. They stood there, dazed, panting, Kyler still buried in her wet, fluttering vagina, his semen dripping like white molasses to the floor. He rested his paws on her rump, gently scratching. "Ky," she breathed happily, in a haze from her orgasm. "Zee," he murred back. "I'm now realizing ... ah, this ... hah, would've been much easier cleanup if we'd waited to get back to our rooms," she said. Not just the floor but herself. She'd need to find a bathroom to tidy up before taking transit back to the Olympic Village. Some species' noses were just too good. "But ... no regrets." A huff. "Gold medal performance, ott." "Thanks," he went, finally pulling out of her. His cock bobbled and more of their mess splattered to the floor. He waited for his erection to droop before covering it back up with his tight bottoms. Zora, as she pulled her own pants back up, smiled and said, "Hope I didn't drain you of your athletic powers?" "I always knew you were a succubus," he joked, grabbing some paper towels to help her tidy up. Zora giggled. "Only part-time." "Just realized," Kyler said, wiping up the 'evidence.' "You're calling sledding, so you'll be covering my event?" "Hopefully half as well as you covered me," she replied. "Heh." A pause. "I have a favor to ask, Zee ... " She crossed her arms. "Want me to tell America how much of a stud you are?" "Well, I think that's already evident." "Confidence. I like it." "No, I want you to talk to Astrid?" "Wow, really?" The squirrel's arms uncrossed, tail flickering excitedly. "I've been dying to meet her! Did she ask to see me?" "Not exactly." Kyler rubbed his neck, tossing the paper towels away and looking out the booth window. He opened the door to let some air in (to clear out their scents) and saw a new time flash up on a scoreboard, indicating another run had taken place. It was faster than the run he'd turned! The otter frowned. "Ky?" "Mm?" "Astrid?" "Oh. She's, um, a little scared of you." "Ha, what? Me?" Zora made a face. "Why?" The otter met the squirrel's gaze. "She thinks you're prettier than her. More confident, more 'together.' She says she's not jealous, but ... she's comparing herself to you, regardless. She feels inadequate." "Aw." "Since we're in an open relationship, I personally feel it's important we're comfortable with each other's major partners, you know? It just makes it easier. I really want her to like you." "I'm a 'major partner'? How much do you like me?" Zora asked, beaming. Kyler answered by shuffling in to give her a kiss. Their whiskers tangled, and he murmured as he pulled back, "I thought I just showed you?" "I'm a Valley Girl, remember? Have the memory of a goldfish." She strummed his whiskers. "I need constant reminding." "Do you, now? Heh." He glanced out the window. Another run. This one just below his time ... but not by much. "Mm. I can't go again, Zee. I have to train. Track's only gonna get busier." And that would limit the attempts he'd be able to make before it closed for use. "I know, I know. Just winding you up." She swished her tail across his face as she pivoted. "Yeah, I'll talk to our Nordic hopper." "Thanks," he said, giving her paw a warm squeeze. "No prob." Zora winked, zipping her parka back up and wrapping her overlong scarf around her neck. She gestured to the door. "After you, champ!" Astrid was camped out at the base of the ski jump, for the male 'normal hill' training session. (There were several medal events for ski jump: normal hill, long hill, and single-gender team and mixed team for both.) None of the runs today counted toward competition (which officially began tomorrow), but it gave her a chance to interview the Norwegian jumpers without the crowds of loud, cheering people (and their inevitable noisemakers). Given this was a big medal opportunity for Norway, her network was covering even the practices like a normal event. She had a bud in her ear and could hear the sportscasters (who were 'live' on air) talking in Norwegian. Occasionally, they'd 'throw it' to her for an interview or she'd chime in with additional observations or commentary. Astrid looked to the jumbo viewing monitor in the 'stadium.' One of the four Norwegian jumpers in the field was preparing to make his jump: Magn s. A handsome snow rabbit known for his candid demeanor. The buck's tall, stiff ears were sooty black, and his cottony-y bobtail was similarly 'dipped' in darkness. But most of him was pure snowy white. He would've blended in with the wintry, Alpine surroundings if his fit, trim body hadn't been covered by a colorfully smooth, form-fitting uniform (designed to cut down on aerodynamic drag). The entrant number he wore was '32.' This particular competition had 50 qualifiers, which would narrow to 30 after the first cut. Then those 30 would jump for the medals. Magnus adjusted his curved goggles, fitting his skis (attached to big, booted foot-paws and long, loping legs) into the 'slots' atop the hill. They would keep him locked in the center of the ramp until he launched into the air. Assuming he kept his balance on the way down. Which he would. The twenty-four-year-old, new to the scene, had won bronze at the last World Championships and was hungry for more. Paws behind him, Magnus pushed off the bar and slid down the slotted track. He tucked himself down, ears folding as close to his head as he could get them (which wasn't completely, being 'stiff eared'). He crouched down, keeping his arms behind. Down, down, gaining speed. Zzzooooom. Faster and faster! His tail flickered with anticipation. And, just like that, he launched into the air off the slope. It was an elegant, impressive sight. There was the briefest moment of silence before the sound of his body and skis piercing the air (at over sixty miles an hour) could be heard throughout the venue. Magnus leaned forward at a steep angle, spreading his legs, widening his stance for the landing. Zzzzzzziiiiiiip! The snow rabbit flew. Soared. As far as any rabbit had ever hopped! Crunch! His skis smacked into the hard snow, and Magnus wheeled his arms to keep his balance. Maintaining it, he slid 'til the surface evened and did a hard turn, skis skidding and kicking up snow and bringing him to a halt. The whole thing had only lasted a few seconds, but it had seemed longer. Heaving for air, Magnus lifted his goggles and shuffled for the side exit. He planned on taking the lift back up for another run. Immediately. He wasn't one to dawdle. "What a great jump from Magnus!" the play-by-play guy crowed. "Oh, he is happy with that." "Ha, how can you tell?" the commentator joked. "His body language is ice. One cool customer. Certainly lives up to his species' name." "How would you judge his jump?" "Wellll ... on replay," the calmer commentator observed, "you can see him gaining a lot of speed in the air ... spot-on at the takeoff. That's his strength. The launch. One hundred percent power. But you see there? You see him correcting a little bit in the air, with the arm. Just focused on distance, but he'll need to correct that. Because it carries over into the landing, where you see him wheel his arms. You can't do that. They do give style point for competition, and he'd get docked for a bobble. During the medal round, athletes will be pushing, taking risks. This opens the door to mistakes. Whoever makes the least? Wins gold." The hard numbers of the jump flashed onto the monitors. "He reached one hundred four meters!" the announcer said, 'hometown' enthusiasm undeterred. "Ninety kilometers per hour. A truly amazing flier." "But distance is only part of it," the other guy restated. "I know people think 'oh, ski jump, if you jump longest you win.' It's not so simple. Do you look good in flight? Do you stick the landing? There is practically no wind right now. If it is in any way breezy tomorrow? It introduces some chaos." "Magnus seems built for chaos, don't you think? For a prey species, he has what you might call 'killer instinct'." "It's a bit strange, yes, but snow rabbits tend to have a certain resolve about them. It's those harsh winters that do it!" "Very Norwegian." "Ha, you could say. Magnus should easily contend on 'long hill,' but 'normal hill' ... it can just be so fickle! It happens much faster and the margins between are much tighter." "Yes, much drama here at Predazzo! And we have it all covered for you on TV 2 Sporskanalen's multi-stream. Now, let's talk to Magnus himself!" Astrid, down below, was approaching Magnus, who was unstrapping the skis from his boots. The lop intercepted the 'tall ears' before he could escape. Not all athletes enjoyed talking to the media seconds after they left the field of competition (when their bodies had yet to calm down). "Astrid?" the booth called. "You have Magnus with you, correct?" "Yes, yes, I do! Magnus? A moment?" she called, her breath billowing around her microphone. Her longtime camera guy, a hulking badger named Noah (her friend and unofficial bodyguard; her cameraman in Pyeongchang and Beijing as well as traveling with her for Formula One coverage), followed her closely. Magnus, still panting, stopped and looked Astrid's way. He blinked a few times, eyes scanning up and down. "That was an excellent run," Astrid complimented. "Assuming conditions tomorrow are somewhat similar, do you think you have enough to make the podium?" "Ja, don't you think so?" the snow rabbit replied, raising a brow. He had bright blue eyes. Even brighter than hers. Astrid faltered for a second before following up with, "Well, 'longhill' is more your discipline, is it not?" "A jump is a jump. Long. Normal." He shrugged. "I'm a rabbit." He seemed to puff his chest out at emphasizing this, leaning ever- so-slightly forward. "Hopping's in my blood." "Do you talk to the other Norwegians? Do you compare notes and work as a team or is it everyone for themselves?" She moved the microphone from her muzzle to his. "I want to win," the rabbit said with a shrug, showing the faintest of smirks. "Teamwork is for mixed events. This, they must beat me on their own." "Finally, Magnus, you're currently ranked fourth in the world. Some would see it as a disappointment if you left Cortina empty pawed. Do you feel any pressure at this?" "Nei," he said simply. "None at all?" He flicked an ear as he answered, "Pressure makes diamonds." "I, uh ... I suppose it does? Well! Thank you for your time and good luck tomorrow." "Takk," he said, bowing his head and shuffling off, clumsily holding his skis in front of him as he went. "Back to you in the booth," Astrid said, lowering her mic. She blew out a deep breath, which clouded the air around her. Tilting his camera down (as the feed shifted to the top of the hill for the next skier, a Ukrainian deer), Noah confided, "He likes you, girl." "Really?" Astrid asked with a blush. Maybe it's because she had a 'thing' for athletes and was involved with more than one (something about guys like that: their energy, their aura, let alone their bodies), but ... the lop cleared her throat and wondered, "How could you tell? Just because he looked at me?" A hearty chuckle from her bulky, gay friend. "Why do you think he was carrying his skis in front of him instead of at his sides?" The badger leaned in and whispered, "Come on. Think about it." Astrid did so and followed the badger back behind the media barricade. When she finally got it, her eyes widened and face got hot. She almost tripped. Noah caught her. "Thanks," she said distractedly. The Ukrainian deer completed his jump, skis kicking up snowy powder as he skidded past the landing zone. And already going back up the slope, secured on the lift: Magnus. The snow rabbit caught Astrid's look from the growing distance and subtly flicked his ears her way. "Astrid?" the booth called in her ear, snapping her back to attention. "Mm? Yes. Go ahead." "We're on break but coming back we would like an interview with the jumper two spots ahead. The Japanese flying squirrel. He podiumed in both normal and longhill last Olympics. He is a threat for the gold. You'll have to use English." "Understood, booth." When training ended and Magnus sent word (using Noah as an intermediary) that he was offering Astrid a 'one-on-one' interview, the lop knew what it meant. She wasn't na ve. She was a rabbit, after all. And so was Magnus. All rabbit. And she hadn't been with another or kind in ... well, since before she'd met Kyler, at least. And if Kyler could have fun with everyone he met, why couldn't she? There were no rules against it. Nothing stopping her. He'd be happy for her when he found out! Nonetheless, Astrid's stomach was all butterflies when she, in a horny, hypnotic trance, showed up at the 'locker room' atop the hill. The male locker room. Her heart hammered. She was about to lose her nerve and turn away- When the door opened from the inside. Astrid took a step back. "Hei, vakre," Magnus greeted, voice low and rich. The snow rabbit wasn't going to bother with anything as clumsy as English, sticking to their native tongue. Astrid blushed at the compliment (and also at his shirtless chest; gosh, it took all her self-control not to touch it, to pet him, to feel those muscles beneath). "Hei ... " Magnus extended a fluffy, white paw. Astrid hesitated but took it. He pulled her into the locker room and shut (and locked) the door behind them. "Er du I brunst?" he murmured bluntly as he shimmied out of his Spandex uniform bottoms (revealing equally tight underwear that left little to the imagination). "Nei," she beathed, standing in place, wringing her paws together. No. She wasn't in heat. The buff male nodded, sounding pleased as he admitted, "Bra. Jeg har nok sett!" That got her attention. He had enough kits? At his age? He was almost ten years younger than her! How many did he have? With who? Was he mated? Sensing her anxiety, the masculine rabbit kissed her lips before purring, "Slapp av ... slapp av ... jeg trenger deg. Kle av." Relax. Relax. 'I need you.' Undress. Each was issued as a command, a statement of fact. Astrid, who possessed a strong submissive streak, responded to Magnus' smooth, masculine authority, unzipping her winter coat and shrugging it to the floor. Then raising her arms and pulling her shirt over and off her head. She was wearing a bra beneath it. Her breasts were too big to get away without one in public (honestly, she wished they were smaller). The snow rabbit approved of their size, though. After removing Astrid's bra, he admired her curves, cupping them, caressing them. Leaning in to kiss each one. Licking her tits. Astrid panted heavily, head tilting back. The skier nibbled her neck, taking it like he took to the slopes, sliding down her neck, her shoulder. Dropping to his knees and unfastening her pants, pulling them down. Astrid wobbled and huffed, paws fumbling for his head, fingers curling in his head-fur and lifting her foot-paws one by one as he removed her pants and panties. Magnus then nuzzled her thighs, kissing, sucking on them, pushing her legs further apart as he went for a long, luscious lick of her vulva. After a good minute of teasing and smothering her clit with his lips, the buck stood and directed the doe to the rectangular, flat changing bench that ran through the middle of the room. Astrid sat on it and laid back, lifting and spreading her legs. Magnus nodded, standing, finally removed his underwear, his erection spearing the air. He looked bigger than both Kyler and Wick. Magnus smiled, scratching Astrid's belly with one paw while gripping his dick with the other, leaning over her. Covering her. Guiding his length into her wet, snug passage. Astrid gasped, paws gripping his back. This is happening, correct? Magnus grunted with satisfaction, starting to thrust. Astrid moaned, hanging on for dear life as he went into 'rutting rabbit' mode. Oh, yes, it's happening! Oh, yes! Ohhh- An hour later, after freshening up (the locker room had a shower stall, which she'd shared with Magnus), Astrid was on her way back into town in a shuttle bus. The caramel-cream lop sat in the very back, silently looking out the window at the mountainous, sunset-splashed view. In some ways, this place reminded her of home. The towering, wintry vistas, the quaint towns nestled at their feet. But the dwellings in Norway 'popped' more. Reds, blues, yellows, greens. Wooden and cozy. Maybe to contrast the drab, harsher climate. It was much 'earthier' here. Also, more stone for some reason? The bus (now half-full) stopped a few times, including at the sledding venue. Astrid had yet to visit it. She could see the lights had been turned on, illuminating the outline in the encroaching dark, but she couldn't see the actual track from here. She hoped Kyler's training was going well. He'd told her he'd be out late. A minute after the last stop, a colorful head looked her way from about three seats up. It stared at her. Astrid blinked. A tall, slender squirrel (comically over-dressed for the cold) got up and walked to the back, clutching seats to keep her balance as the bus rounded a sharp turn. "Hey, like ... I have to ask," she said in a distinctly American accent (which Astrid often perceived as 'nasally'). "Yes?" Astrid replied. "Are you ... Norwegian?" "Yes ... " "Astrid?!" "Zora," the lop guessed. Of course. How many tropical squirrels, let alone American ones, were at the Games? "Ha, yes! May I?" Zora asked, sitting directly beside the rabbit before she could answer (despite the fact there was an empty seat across the aisle). "Um ... sure," the lop said on delay, squeezed toward the window. She brushed her ears behind her shoulders. "How'd you know it was me?" "Ky's shown me pics!" Astrid clarified, knowingly, "I send Kyler many pictures ... " "Pfft! Ha, ha, don't worry, you had clothes on." The squirrel giggled. "Ohmygosh, I can't believe we're on the same bus! What a coincidence!" "Isn't it," Astrid said evenly. Though perhaps it was bound to happen. With half the Olympics being held in Milan (three hours away), a smaller-than-normal contingent was around for the mountain events. "How are you?!" Zora asked, as if this wasn't the first time they'd talked. "I am ... well." "Yeah?" Astrid nodded. "Great! I'm good, too. I met up with our man, today!" "You did? At the sledding venue?" "Yeah, yeah. I'm part of the sledding broadcast team. For NBC, y'know? That's an American network," she quickly added. "Ha! I know what you're thinking. Yeah, I came here not knowing a thing about sledding ... or, really, any winter sports? But, like, the network liked the job I did for them in Paris so much ... they decided to send me here! I mean, I probably wouldn't have gotten have been asked back if I didn't medal in Paris, though. I got a silver, you know!" "I am aware." "Medals open doors, I tell you what." "Being attractive certainly helps," Astrid pointed out, meaning it as a compliment (even if it came out dryly). "Heh, you think I'm hot?" A hesitation before, "It is hard to deny." "That's the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me!" Astrid seriously doubted this ... but was quickly realizing that Zora was someone who embellished everything. Chronic over- enthusiasm. She folded her paws in her lap and steered the squirrel back on track. "So ... you saw Kyler?" "Oh, yeah. I saw him," Zora said with a heavy wink (and an elbow-nudge), all but admitting they'd had sex. "Heh heh. He's the best, isn't he?" "Yes, I think so," Astrid said quietly. "I mean, I don't luuuurrve him like you do," she assured. "I'm not gonna steal him or anything! We're just awesome buds." Astrid nodded. "Hmm." The squirrel, pausing, grooming her own tail before saying, "Ky was right, though." "About what?" "You are intimidated by me ... aren't you?" The squirrel smiled (though a weaker one than she'd been wearing for the past few minutes; she hated the idea that she was making anyone seriously uncomfortable). "Do I ... do I come on too strong? I'm sorry. It's just how I am. I mean, with colors like mine?" she professed, "I can't hide. Can't blend in." A head-tilt. "I live out loud, y'know?" "That makes sense," Astrid said, not answering Zora's original question. "Not that I'm complaining! It's worked out for me. Got me a spot on a hit TV show and a silver medal! And that was after I tore my ACL at worlds in '22, right?! Ohmygosh, that hurt. Over a year of rehab, and I'm, like, 'I can't compete in Paris. I can't do it. I'm done.' And then I was, like, 'psh, Zora, whaaat... girl, you can do anything.' And I did! Well. Almost. I would've preferred to win gold-who wouldn't?-but those jaguar twins? Mia and Mya? From Brazil? Damn." The squirrel fanned herself with her tail-tip. "They were beasts on the sand. Literally." "I don't believe I have ever met a jaguar." "Oh, you'd remember. They're pretty aggressive. And ripped." A huff. "Like, they're the apex of apex-y." Another nod. "You gonna be at the Summer Games in '28? They're in America! I'm gonna be there, for sure," Zora insisted. "Going for the gold! You gotta cheer me on!" "It depends. If Formula One takes their 'summer break' to coincide, I will be free to provide coverage for the network." She hadn't been able to make it to the Paris Games. "Well, let me know!" Astrid's nose twitched. The bus stopped at a stop sign before making another turn. Zora took a deep breath. "Sooo ... you were at the 'ski jump,' yeah? Today?" Astrid realized Kyler must've told Zora this and admitted, "Yes, for nearly five hours." "Wow. That's a lot of jumping! But the luge stuff lasted just as long, I guess." A pause, draping her banner-like tail over the back of their seat. "What'd you do there?" "Reported." "Yeah?" Zora prodded. "And interviewed athletes." "Yeahhh? Like who? What kind of species jump off snow cliffs?" "Those with strong legs," was Astrid's evasive reply. "Ohhhh, so ... rabbits, maybe? Like those Arctic dudes?" "Snow rabbits." A pause. "There are some in the event." Figuring Zora was going to drag it out of her eventually (or maybe she just wanted to confess, even though it wasn't a secret?), the lop took a deep breath and began, "One of the jumpers ... one of the snow rabbits-" "Oh, fuck!" the squirrel exclaimed. "He made a move on you, didn't he?" Astrid tilted her head. "How did you guess?" "I mean ... you're a fucking cutie patootie! Who wouldn't?" Astrid blushed. "So, he 'moved.' Did you indulge him?" The lop folded her paws on her lap. "I think it would be more accurate to say: he indulged me." "Ha, ha! It was good, huh?" Astrid just smiled. "Niiiiiice! Congrats!" Zora said with a grin, wrapping an arm around the rabbit and giving her a squeeze. Astrid tensed at the impromptu hug. "Sorry, I should've asked," Zora said, withdrawing her arm. "It's okay." "Have you told Ky yet?" "About Magnus? No, it only just happened." "His name is Magnus?! Ohmygosh. That sounds like a big dick name," the squirrel decreed. Astrid didn't confirm or deny this. Just stifled a giggle. "We live in the information age, girl, and you're carrying a hot potato! If it were me, Ky would've known already." "I don't wish to distract him while he's working." Sledding was his job, after all. "Heh, well ... you're more considerate than me," Zora said with a guilty grin. "But for real. We gotta up your texting game. Ha, wait, am I the first person you've told?" "Yes?" "Girls club!" the squirrel decreed, putting up her orange paw for a high five. Astrid blinked, then raised her cream-colored one and cautiously moved it toward Zora's. The squirrel slapped them together and giggled. "That's a high- five!" she explained. "I know. Americans do not own the gesture." "Ha, you're hysterical," Zora said with a giggle. "Why didn't Ky tell me that?" The lop shrugged. A brief silence fell between them. The bus made its final mountain stop and was pulling onto the road that led directly into town. "What a pretty sunset," Zora said, smiling as she looked out the window. The colors were at their boldest peak, twilight mere minutes away. "Yes," Astrid agreed, seeing the almost 'innocent' look on the squirrel's face. Zora was pretty and successful and a bunch of other things that Astrid felt she, herself, wasn't. (Or never would be.) But, no ... she wasn't intimidating after all. Overwhelming? A little? But that's just how squirrels seemed to be. Manic pixie acrobats. Astrid could see why Kyler liked her (aside from looks, which were dynamite). She was a burst of positive, inspirational energy and knew how to have fun. "I'd like to be friends, y'know? Like, if you want," Zora insisted, her 'Valley Girl' inflection really coming through. "If we are, we can gab about Ky! Share the deets and stuff. Heh. Or, y'know, get closer ourselves ... you're not straight, are you?" "No." "Good! Heh, that's a relief. Cause, like, you're sooooo cute I can barely stand it. I could see myself getting down with you. Hard." This left the lop tongue-tied. "Oh, it looks like we're almost home," Zora said, looking ahead. Referring to the Olympic Village. The city lights were getting stronger and more omnipresent. "You and Ky staying together?" "Yes." "Lucky! I'm rooming with a stoat this time." Her roommate in Paris ha been a tanuki table tennis player. "She's a cross- country skier, and she's been fucking a snowboarder. A wolverine. Like, he's from Canada or Scotland or something? Holy heck, he's loud. I mean ... the screaming." Zora took a quick breath, blurting, "Hey, since Ky's still training, do you wanna grab a bite to eat? I'm starving! And we can talk more, too. About anything you want! I don't mean to be a conversation hog." She quickly insisted, "No offense to pigs or pig-adjacent species!" Hours later. Kyler did, indeed, get back late. "Are you limping?" Astrid realized, looking up from her laptop. She was typing up a 'daily report' to post on her network's blog. The lop saved her progress, closed the computer, and stood up. "You crashed, didn't you?" "Sorta?" The river otter flashed a boyish, fanged grin. "Last run. Got a bit loose and just ... no, I didn't technically crash. This time," he said, referring to his wreck in 2022. "I just pinballed from wall to wall." "Oh, is that all?" she said sarcastically. "Back and forth. Left to right. Bam-bam-bam!" the otter described, almost bragging about it. "At eighty miles an hour! Bruised my hip a little on one of the hits. Or maybe I strained it trying to say on the sled?" "You should have your team doctors take a look." "They did," he assured. That's why he was in 'civilian' attire rather than his uniform. He'd showered at the med center. "They gave me legal painkillers. Don't want to get disqualified. After they released me, I went to the food court for supper." Kyler put a duffel bag (containing his uniform and helmet) down on the floor. "But the sled is okay! No dents. Those things are mega expensive, so ... I'd rather break a bone than break the sled." He was only half-joking. The sleds, helmets, uniforms, gloves? It all added up to five to ten thousand bucks depending on brands and models. He'd left the sled at the Team USA compound. Astrid's nose twitched. More seriously, the otter confessed, "My times weren't great, bun." He clenched his jaw. "I was eighth, ninth, maybe tenth most of the day? Never got higher than that." "It's your first day on the ice. You'll find the speed." "My event starts in three days," he reminded. "You'll find the speed," Astrid repeated. He smiled at her, grateful for her belief and support. He opened his arms wide. She hopped forward and slotted between them. Kyler hugged the rabbit tight, nuzzling her head-fur, breathing of her. "I heard you had fun today?" Astrid mentioned, looking up at him. Blue eyes to brown. "Ah, heh. You met Zora," Kyler acknowledged. "She texted me about it. Said you two were 'besties' now." A pleased grin. "I knew you'd hit it off!" "Besties?" The rabbit definitely wouldn't say that. What she would say was, "We are acquainted." Kyler chuckled. "But you like her?" "She is colorful." "Heh heh." Astrid skipped a beat before saying, "Did she mention that, uh ... I had some fun, too?" "Ooooh," the otter drawled, touching Astrid's chin with a webbed paw. "No. You did?" "Mmhmm." They swam in each other's gazes, aglow with tenderness, lacking any judgment. "With another athlete?" he guessed. "Mm. I am a big sports fan," she admitted flirtatiously. "They have a certain power over me." "We do?" Kyler purred, holding to her hips. Head tilting. Astrid stood on her tiptoes, touching their noses together. Their whiskers brushed. "Some ... ah, some more than others ... " Kyler tilted his head. "You'll have to tell me all about it ... later." He initiated a kiss. Slow, simmering. Passionate. Astrid's arms went around his shoulders, head tilting upward as she leaned her weight into him, lips meeting, smacking together. Again and again, providing a soundtrack as they shuffled to bed. Lights on, clothes off. Astrid wound up on top (with the otter's bruised hip, he didn't need to be thrusting), straddling his trim, athletic hips, bobtail flickering above her curvy, furry rump as she pushed off his strong, thick-furred chest. The otter's stiff, pink erection glistened with her juices as she rode it. "Ah! Ah... " Kyler licked his lips. "Ahhh ... " "Mmm!" the rabbit went, gyrating. Grinding. Steering him clockwise. Kyler, eyes hooded, reached up and palmed the rabbit's big, jiggling breasts as she bounced. Astrid tossed her head, flipping her ears behind her shoulders. "Oh, yesss," Kyler breathed, eyes hooding. This was much better than the medicine the team doctors had given him! He then released her tits, holding to her hips instead. Steering her, guiding her. Astrid, slowing her roll, reached down to furiously rub her clit. Her buckteeth jutted, making faces as she stopped entirely, taking a few deep breaths before moving again. Kyler gaped, feeling a sudden rush. An electric jolt. "Oh, oh ... ohh, bunny ... fuck!" He gasped, ejaculating inside her. Chest heaving, face flushed. He chirped! Astrid stopped bouncing, frantically rubbing herself. She hadn't finished yet! He, shaking from his orgasm, reached up and rubbed her nipples, encouraging her, "Come on, babe ... y-you're so close. So hot. Do it for me. Cum for me." "K-kyler ... " "Ah, Astrid! Cum. Be a good girl ... " His words did it. "Ah!" the rabbit went, slumping on his chest. Her buckteeth jutted as she gaped. "Ahh, haaa ... hah!" "Mmmm, that's it ... that's it ... " The otter's webbed paws covered her back, arms surrounding her in a warm, firm hug. "There's my bun," he breathed between her ears. Astrid panted, throat dry, nosing Kyler's neck. His paws slid down, and he goosed her rump before his webbed fingers combed through her tail-fluff. "I love you ... Ky ... " "I love you, too, Astrid," he replied with warm, whispered emotion. She started shaking. They only had two weeks, and then they probably wouldn't see each other for, what, a year? Longer? She wanted to bottle every moment. "Shhh, it's okay ..." She nodded, lifting her head. Eyes raw. She wiped at them. His smile was wide and whiskery. "I got you," he promised. Astrid smiled back, sniffling. "We, uh, should shower? Yes? I have to ... I'm supposed to update the networks' blog. And you need to rest up." She paused and said, "You'll be really sore tomorrow," he said, of his bruise. "I hope I haven't made it worse." "Believe me, bun. Crashing into you is much more forgiving than crashing into a wall of ice. You're also a heck of a lot warmer." Smiling at this, she leaned in for another kiss. He returned it. They made out for a moment. Until Astrid finally pulled away and dismounted. Halfway to the shower (she'd take hers first), she looked back and blew him another kiss. Sprawled atop the sheets, he pretended to catch it in his paws and then rubbed it into his cheeks before blowing one back. Giggling, the lop hopped out of the room. Four days later. "Welcome back to the Cortina Sliding Center, and if you've not been with us: we've had a stunning development!" "I'll say!" Zora echoed, beside Leigh in the broadcast booth. "As a reminder, each sledder that advances past the cut-off stage gets four runs for the medals. The fastest time when combining all four? Wins gold. But," the kangaroo emphasized, "all four runs aren't completed on the same day. We did runs 'one' and 'two' yesterday. 'Three' and 'four' today. So, why the excitement? Well! While the temperatures have remained at just below freezing, the humidity level in the air has gone up. Now, what does this mean, Zora?" "Humidity makes things wet! The track is 'sweating' today, Leigh, which means it's getting extra shiny, extra slippery. 'Wet' ice is 'soft' ice. Blades dig in and jostle your slide. We've had sledders slip, bobble, and pinball on almost every run today. We weren't seeing that before!" The camera switched from the booth to the international feed, showing the athletes priming for competition. "We've already completed the third runs, and the leaderboard has really been shaken up compared to where it was after two," Leigh stated, a graphic showing the 'Top 10' popping on the screen. "As we enter the final stretch, we have a very familiar face in the mix." "Leigh, who takes to wet, slippery surfaces better than otters? No one! Kyler, the American and defending gold medalist in this event, was in eighth place when the ice was 'dry' yesterday. But now that it's literally losing grip ... he's somehow clawed his way into podium position. He jumped five places to third after that last run!" "Can he get even higher?" "I know he has it in him," Zora said. "But if you're thinking Kyler is getting lucky ... the conditions are the same for everyone!" "And who else is comfortable on wet surfaces? Muskrats. Bogdan, a Romanian muskrat, also shot up the leaderboard between yesterday and today. He is currently in fourth, one spot behind Kyler, and if both continue to advance ... medals might be in their future." "I can't even sit down, I'm so excited!" the Indian giant squirrel insisted. "Now, reminder," the roo said, "we go in reverse order of previous round's standings. Slowest first, fastest last. So, Bogdon and Kyler will be the fourth and third to last runs to go. They have a lot of time to think about this. Maybe too much time?" "These are all professionals," Zora insisted. "I can tell you, as an athlete myself, when it comes time to perform? You shift into 'The Zone.' But, yes, pressure does lurk. It looks for the smallest cracks in your resolve to get in and mess you up. You have to tune it out." The camera showed Kyler in the background, stretching in place, a steely look on his whiskered face. "The entire field was caught off guard by the changing track conditions, but now that they know? Now that they've been acclimated? They'll make adjustments accordingly. This is hardly a gimme for the 'webbed paw' guys." "Well, the time for talk is over! Here we go!" Leigh announced. "The medal runs for male skeleton begin now." The first sledder, a Chinese red panda, sprinted from the start line and had a slow start. "The Chinese sledders aren't known for their fast starts," Zora said. "But they almost always make up time driving." Sure enough, the red panda made back time during the run, but not enough to hold off nineteen other challengers. Next up, a French red squirrel, tail in a sock to reduce drag. "Team Squirrel!" Zora declared. "Ha, ha, look at the little guy go." One after another, runs were turned. About a minute-and-a-half between each. Eventually, they came to the Top 5 with all the podium positions still in play. "In fifth place headed into the final," Leigh said, "it's Desmond. From Canada, this is the beaver's first Olympics." The rodent took to the starting gate. Silence fell over the venue. "Beavers are also semi-aquatic," Zora pointed out obviously. "And the 'wet' ice seems to have played to his strengths, as well. He was eleventh after the second run. Climbed five spots after the third. But, unlike Kyler and Bogdon, who are in their thirties, he is a rookie. Barely twenty, one of the youngest competitors in this field. I think lack of experience may hurt him." The beaver, buckteeth jutting, flipped down the clear visor of his helmet and gripped his sled. Took three deep breaths. And sprinted off the starting block. Demond leapt onto his sled, and when he landed, the blades fluttered on the ice and jutted out of the launch groove, slicing a few inches to the side. The beaver corrected the over- adjustment with his paddle-tail, which laid flat but steered him with subtle movements. But it was already too late. "Ooh," Zora went. "He lost three tenths of a second because of that slip! Now, that doesn't sound like a lot. It's just three blinks! But this is a race, and margins are so tight that even the smallest gap can be hard to overcome. You never want to start behind the eight ball." "What exactly happened there, Zora? He didn't slip on the run ... " "No, but he may have been so focused on not slipping, he over- compensated on his launch. Landed on the sled with too much of a thud rather than a gradual arc. And when you start off losing time, it's hard to make it back. That's why these launches have been so crucial today." The beaver crossed the line in third place with four runners to go. "Mm. I don't think that'll hold. All four remaining sledders would need to go slower to avoid getting bumped off the podium." "But for a young Olympic rookie, a fantastic showing! Something to build on for France 2030." Brogdon was next up. The muskrat's launch was good. A little too good. He went into the first turn so hot that he slid up the wall, scrubbing time by the next chute. A lost tenth became another by the final chicane. The muskrat showed no fear or hesitation, though, holding on as he shot toward the finish line like a bullet. "Provisional gold!" Leigh declared. "With only three runners left, he's in good position to stay in the medals. He'll be happy with that!" And, now, it was Kyler's turn. Zora felt nervous for her guy as she said, "He wants this really bad. I've talked to him about it, Leigh. Many say his gold in Beijing was a fluke. He'd never even podiumed in worlds before that. Since then? He's gotten a bronze and silver in worlds but hasn't ever returned to the top step. But back-to-back Olympic golds, four years apart? You can't call that a fluke. Some people are just clutch in big moments. I think Kyler is one of them." The otter stared down the crest past the start line, which was a blind dive into a turn into a chute into a head-first mile-long slide. He flipped down his visor. His rudder-tail was fitted in his familiar snug Spandex sock, made of the same material as his red-white-and-blue uniform. Kyler put his slide on the ice and bent over, grabbing the handles. Easing it back and forth, back and forth. Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in! Someone yelled 'go, go, go!' (a team coach), and Kyler, shot up with painkillers, pushed off the block, sprinting across the cold, smooth ground while pushing his sled. His foot-paws kept perfect grip on the softening ice. No slipping as he jumped into the air before the crest, soaring, undulating into perfect position on the sled. Quickly tucking into streamlined position. "Look at that soft landing! Mmf. What a delicate touch by the mustelid," Zora said, practically panting. "He loaded at max speed, too. Twenty-five miles an hour. Otters can move!" A drone cam followed him through the first few turns and then had to bail at the tunnel turn for the stationary cameras. Zip! Zoooooom! ZIP! Leigh, who had wisely been letting the run play out (knowing how dramatic it would be for the target audience), finally said, "Halfway through. In the green." "Kyler bruised a hip in training a few days ago, Leigh. Holding this position takes total relaxation. You can't tense up. If you do, you can't feel the sled. But when you've got inflamed, painful muscles? It is so hard to relax. This is a crazy impressive run." "And he's nearing the end of it ... to the finiiiishh, and ... yes! It's fast enough for provisional gold!" The crowd cheered, sounding their bells and whistles. "Ha, ha! Go Ky! USA!" "And he's guaranteed himself at least a bronze. He will finish on the podium with only two runners left." The press at the bottom crowded the otter as Kyler slid to a stop. He flipped up his visor, stood up (slowly, with a slight wince) and pumped a fist, high fiving his teammates before climbing out of the chute and shuffling toward the podium area. The 'kiss and cry' stage, where the provisional winner lingered (the cameras trained on them) until the outcome was decided. He stood there, chest heaving, and looked off-camera to see- Astrid, in her network jacket, handing him a bottle of water. Knowing they were both 'at work,' he resisted an intimate touch (or a kiss, which he badly wanted to give her) and took the water with a respectful nod. The lop nodded back before going back to Noah. The badger cameraman said something to her in Norwegian, and she answered, pointing at a time chart. Kyler took a big swig of water and held his breath as the second- to-last runner went. A British red fox. He had a decent start, a great middle, but was scrubbing too much speed by the end. Kyler closed his eyes, then peeked one open. The fox's run put him in third place. The otter exhaled deeply. Nineteen down, one to go. Ralf, a German chipmunk, the leader coming into the final run, looked to cement the position in the history books as the first chipmunk to win a sledding gold. Kyler watched on the nearest viewscreen as, tail whipping straight out and drifting side to side like a counterbalance, the chipmunk scampered off the starting block. Leap! Squeak! Landing in a snug tuck, the German zoomed through the first turn. The otter clenched his jaw. Damn. That looked good. But watching someone else always did. Your own point-of-view on the sled was so different than seeing it from the outside. Halfway through, Ralf was up on Kyler's time. By a tenth. Kyler downed the rest of his water as he watched, heart hammering. He hated watching his fate be decided rather than deciding it himself! Ralf was racing on the edge, his socked tail whipping this way and that to shift his weight to maximize each turn. Almost to the end. Turn 14. His exit was ever-so-slightly off-line. Turn 15. The loose exit line from the previous turn visibly reared its head in this one, as the chipmunk's sled overshot his entry by half-a- width, riding high toward the wall. The rodent corrected it to avoid a spill, but the skid scrubbed his advantage. It was barrelling toward a dead heat. Turn 16. Now the finish line ... Kyler stood up. The crowd roared. But for who? The time flashed on the scoreboard. The announcers, in three different languages (Italian, French, and English), announced the results: "The Romanian, Brogdon, has earned bronze. Ralf's time earns him the silver medal. Gold goes to the American entrant, Kyler!" Kyler laughed victoriously, putting his paws on his head and turning in a slow circle before pumping his fists and making every otter-sound he could muster, fangs flashing as he yelped. His teammates crowded him, patting him on the back, and American TV came forward for an instant interview. Astrid patiently waited to the side, catching Kyler when they were done with him (and before he could step on the podium). Noah, camera aimed at the otter's face, loomed behind the rabbit. The red light winked on. "Kyler, congratulations on your second gold medal," Astrid said in accented English, holding her microphone. "What was going through your mind on that final run?" "Heh, honestly? Nothing. I wasn't even thinking about the pain I was in. I just fully committed to the slide." "Do you think today's 'softer ice' benefited you?" "I mean, I guess? But I don't control the weather." "Finally, how are you going to celebrate this historic achievement?" she asked. He gave her with a smoldering, testosterone-fueled look and said, "Well, now that I'm done competing, I have ten days to fill ... and I've been known to get carried away." The rabbit, knowing she was the subtext of this, felt her cheeks and ears getting hot as said, "Thank you." The otter grinned before pivoting toward the podium to receive his medal. Astrid threw the feed back to the booth, who then threw it back to the studio for 'biathlon' coverage. The rabbit finally allowed herself to smile. Yes, going into things 'headfirst' could be daunting, and sometimes it meant you missed the scenery. But she couldn't deny: it was a hell of a rush.