His last silver string thrummed on the carved wooden beams supporting the old thatch roof of the Bramblethorn Inn, a single, sorrowful note which played about the heart like a lover’s caress. The meager crowd, mostly farmers dressed in rude wool tunics or a merchant having the occasion to have come to this inn on his travels, clapped for the performer sitting on a simple wooden stool in the corner before returning to their ale. His song finished for the evening, Maple lowered the mandolin, a fine rosewood instrument, easily worth a king’s ransom and then some. Placing the instrument beside his seat, the fox wrapped an old blue shawl, almost grey with age, around his slender shoulders and frowned. Below the swell of his gravid belly, resting between his black paws, was a dingy old hat. From the flickering orange light of a nearby lantern, the scant gold coins glittered up from the felt lining. 

Maple tucked a hand beneath his belly and stooped down with a grunt to retrieve his reward. “Not much tonight,” he muttered, fingering the precious few coins. 

The fox stood and moved towards the bar. The rough, unpolished boards creaked beneath his weight as he shuffled awkwardly, his ripe buttocks and motherly hips bumping into the occasional table. The fox would stop, offering a brief, red faced apology to a patron and then just as quickly move on. His small hand gripped the folds of his shawl tight as he glided silently up to the broad, heavy block of solid oak where a grinning wolf leaned over with both palms. 

“Evening Maple,” the wolf boomed. His muzzle was split open in a wide, flashing grin. Despite the grey around his snout, the old wolf still had the twinkle of boyish mischief in his blue eyes. “How’s life been?”

“Not great, Bertram,” the fox said. He opened his fist to dump the small pile of coins onto the bar. “The crowd seems to not be very generous this evening.”

The old wolf chuckled and whipped a cloth, which he had been using to polish the bar, over one shoulder. Resting on his elbows, he looked to the coins and then up at Maple. “Bah, don’t be giving it any concern. This is the harvesting season and most of the folks around here are too preoccupied. Give it about a week or so and they’ll be tossing gold around like ale.”

“If only it were that easy,” the fox replied, his hands on his belly. 

“Say,” Bertram said. “How far along are you?”

“Long enough,” came the reply. Maple whirled about suddenly, his yellow eyes wide as the door opened. “Sa--” He froze when another wolf steeped through the opening. Falling into a slump, the fox turned back to the bar and sighed. 

Seeing the forlorn expression coming over Maple’s face, Bertram’s bushy, grey brows began to knit. “Maple,” he said. “I’ve known you for some time. Hell, you been around Sweetwater almost as long as I can remember.” He leaned in close, his muzzle almost touching Maple’s wet, black nose. “But one thing I never recall seeing is a frown on your pretty face. Now I’ve been watching you all night. You’ve never once flirted with any of the youngsters in here nor moved from that stool. That ain’t like you, not a bit.” He shoved his heavy frame up from the counter and crossed his arms. “So out with it. Who are you waiting on?”

Maple gave a start as if the wolf had slapped him across the face. “I-I… I mean, I’m not waiting on anyone.”

“No, no.” Bertram shook his shaggy head. “Don’t be giving me none ‘o that. You keep staring at that door like someone is meant to come through it. So tell me. You finally find that right one?”

The fox’s heart flew up into his mouth. By reflex, his hand fell upon his wrist where not too long ago a silver fox charm was once clasped. Maple bit his black lip and turned his nose to the counter. “I’m not certain,” he whispered. “But, I’m hopeful.” 

Hope, such a funny word, he thought. His mind drifted back to a few nights before. A brief stop at an out of the way inn, a night of unbridled passion with a young fox. His cheeks grew hot as he remembered Samuel. His strength, his warm scent. Maple fingered the folds of his shawl, recalling that evening. 

“Well, if anyone wants to spurn you,” said Bertram. He gave a quick tilt of his head, motioning towards an old blunderbuss hanging on the wall behind him. “You just let me know. Ol’ Bessie will show that fool what he’s missing.”

This brought a smile to the fox’s glooming face. Maple turned his eyes up at the grinning wolf and chuckled briefly. “Thank you, Bertram.”

“Well, look at this,” came a brazen shout. 

Maple turned, one hand still braced on the counter, to spy a male fox sauntering towards him. He was flanked by a scrawny ferret clad in a rough, red tunic and a badger dressed in a wool shirt and breaches that were mostly patches. The fox’s eyes gleamed with a barely contained menace as he approached. Maple’s skin crawled beneath his orange fur to see this creature coming for him. 

“Hello Gunder,” he said, not bothering to look the fox in the eye. Perhaps, it was more that he did not dare.

Gunder came to an abrupt halt before Maple and thrust his thumbs into his belt. “Good to see you, Maple. Been a while, hasn’t it?” 

His lecherous gaze wandered down the fox’s ample frame, drinking in the swell of his full bust, sliding down the curve of Maple’s round belly. Maple cringed, feeling the fox’s gaze on him like greasy fingers. It was as if he were standing naked before the loathsome wretch and clasped his belly with both hands, his yellow eyes narrowing into slits. 

“Not long enough, I am afraid,” Maple said at last. 

Gunder’s mouth curled into a grin that was more of a sneer. “I was going to ask you how business was going, but I think I have my answer.” His gaze was riveted to the fox’s belly. “So the village watering trough finally got more than she bargained for, eh?”

This brought a laugh from the ferret and badger. Maple gnawed his lower lip and fought back the urge to lash out at the grinning lout. His fingers dug into his green robe until the knuckles became white. “What do you want, Gunder?”

The fox answered by slapping a gold coin down on the bar. He leaned in, pressing his reeking body against Maple. “You know what I want.”

How Maple knew, indeed. The fox’s cock was straining against his leather trousers, thrusting against his hip with a quivering desire. Maple’s stomach churned to feel such a grotesque instrument against his fur, his mind recalling the hot, firm strength of Samuel’s manhood. Oh Samuel, he thought, his heart sinking. Where was the young fox? 

“I…” Maple stammered. “I don’t know what you mean.”

Gunder’s ears swiveled around. “Oh? Is that so?” He spoke to the two beside him, his voice laughing, but his eyes were cold and expressionless. “You hear that? Ol’ Maple Spreadlegs here doesn’t know what I mean.” His laughter was like a dagger twisting into the fox’s heart. “Since when did you play hard to get?” He tapped a clawed finger on the coin. “I remember one gold for one night. That was your rate, wasn’t it?”

“That was,” Maple said. He turned his face from the other fox, not wishing to look at him. “But, things have changed. I don’t want to do that anymore.”

A rough paw grabbed his chin, wrenching his head around with such violence that Maple cried out. Hot, angry eyes the color of jaundice stared into his with an uncontained rage.

“What the hell you mean by that?” Gunder snarled. “You think you’re too good for me? Is that it? You’re nothing but a whore, Maple.” 

Seizing the fox by the wrist, he yanked Maple savagely from the bar and flung him into a nearby table. The pregnant fox threw out both hands in a desperate attempt to prevent his gravid belly from striking the hard, wooden edge. Stumbling, he crashed his hip into the table, cold pain lancing up his side as he rolled to his back, bracing himself up with both hands as Gunder came storming for him. 

“You’re just a dirty old whore,” the fox roared. “Now act like one.”

“Hey,” boomed Bertram. “You leave her alone, Gunder.”

“Shut up, old man,” shouted Gunder. “This ain’t your concern and we all know that old gun of yours ain’t loaded. Hell, the thing rusted out years ago. Probably can’t even shoot.” He turned and a wicked smirk spread over his lips. “But I know something that still shoots good.” The fox clutched at the bulge in his trousers. His pink tongue slither from between cracked lips like a fat worm, sliding along his jowls as his fingers played along the folds of Maple’s shawl. With a pitiless rip, he pulled the woolen garment from the fox’s shoulders, casting it to the floor before his filthy claws touched the ripe swell of Maple’s breast. 

“Is anyone going to do something,” Maple wailed. But, the other patrons hung their heads and pretended not to notice. 

“No cares about a worn out thing like you,” Gunder’s voice was like a dry whisper. He pressed against Maple, his hand sliding along the fox’s belly, sinking lower until his fingers found the fold in the fox’s robe. “Not like me, right? I can love you for a night.” His fingers slithered under Maple’s robe. The fox cringed as he felt those claws tracing up his inner thigh. 

Maple’s lip quivered and he looked to the door. 

“Who are you looking for?” Gunder asked. 

“N-No one,” the fox stammered. 

“Damn right,” the other fox whispered. His breath reeked of stale alcohol and tobacco. He grabbed the sash around Maple’s waist and pulled the knot free. “You don’t need this, right? Not an old, spent thing like you.” 

Maple’s robe fell open to reveal his gravid body. His belly fur was white as fresh cream. Two black nipples glistened in the flickering light of the inn. His slender, black hand quickly slipped to his groin, covering his manhood as the leering Gunder grinned. 

“What are you hiding for?” the fox chuckled. His paw clasped Maple’s wrist. The pregnant fox’s heart skipped a beat as he felt Gunder pulling. 

“N-No,” he cried. “Don’t do that.”

“Why not?” Gunder laughed. “I paid for it, I should get to see--What in the hell!”

Below the full, white orb of Maple’s belly, a pair of pearls dangled beneath a furry sheath. A small, black tip peeked out from the white folds, its ebon flesh smooth and damp. 

“You! You’re a man!” The hoarse cry came like a slap in the face. Maple pushed up from the table, his arms flying to wrap themselves around his round body. 

“He’s a man,” Gunder cackled. “This entire time, Maple was a male.” The fox’s laughter rose up into a raucous din alongside the badger and ferret. “Can you believe this? And he’s knocked up too.”

Hot tears stung at Maple’s eyes as he struggled to close his robe against the tide of laughter. “W-Well, you’re the one who wanted to sleep with me, Gunder.” This brought an immediate halt to the fox’s laughter. Drawing himself up, Maple set his jaw firmly, his yellow eyes still wet. His voice warbled as he fought back the angry sobs which threatened to rack his gravid body. “You’re the one paying to sleep with this knocked up man. So what’s that make you?” He spat the words with an acidic venom. 

Seeing the fox’s face purple with rage, Maple instantly regretted the jab. Gunder’s lip curled up in a snarl. Beside him, the ferret giggled. 

“The hell you laughing at?” the fox growled and the ferret stopped laughing instantly. 

Maple’s mouth became a thin, bloodless line as he stared back at the other fox. His chin tilting up, he stood rigidly and said, “Yes, Gunder, I am a man. A pregnant man at that. So what kind of man are you?” 

Striding up to Maple in two quick steps, Gunder growled, “The kind that’s going to knock those teeth out of your pretty head.”

Maple’s heart fluttered, but he would not budge an inch. Gunder’s hands flashed out, grabbing him by his thick, black hair. 

“Ah! Let me go,” Maple screamed as another paw shot for his throat. 

“You got a real big mouth, Maple,” Gunder hissed. “Maybe I need to remind you how to use it.”

He gave the fox a rough shove, sending Maple careening into the table. Before he could move, Gunder was on him, pinning him to the table. 

“What is this?” the fox bellowed, grabbing the silver pin from Maple’s hair. “This is too pretty for someone like you.” With a yank, he pulled the pin free and tossed to the floor. 

A curtain of black descended over Maple’s eyes as his hair fell over his face. Through the hot tears clouding his vision, he saw the leering visage of Gunder. 

“Maybe that will teach you to learn your place,” the fox roared. He gave the pregnant fox another hard shove. The table groaned under the weight of the impact, squeaking on its four stubby legs as it slid back. 

“S-Samuel,” Maple whimpered. “Samuel, where are you?”

The other patrons lowered their heads. Wishing to stay out of the situation, they buried their faces into their ale.

“Just who is Samuel?” snarled Gunder. “There ain’t no Samuel here. Just me. So what, Maple? My coin ain’t good enough for you no more?”

“S-Stop it!” Maple shrieked as Gunder seized him in his wiry arms. “You’re hurting me.”

Gunder tore the fox’s robe with a gnarled fist. “Ain’t no man too good for you I heard.”

His hand raised, his fingers rigid. Maple’s lip quivered as the fox prepared to bring a heavy slap to his cheek. 

“Samuel,” Maple whispered and the hand fell. 

He squeezed his eyes shut, ready for the sting of that dreadful five braided whip, but when none came, he slowly opened his eyes to see an expression of utter terror fall over Gunder’s face. Maple’s eyes widened, all of his pain forgotten as he beheld a thick, powerful wrist, the tendons like steel bands. A strong, knobby hand clamped hard around Gunder’s wrist, squeezing down until the bones creaked. The fox let out a pained cry, his knees buckling. 

Over the yelping of Gunder a clear, high voice rang like a bronze bell. “Your ma didn’t raise you too well, did she?”

“Samuel!” Maple practically shouted the name. His heart leapt into his throat, while his hands flew to his black lips. 

Gunder shot a wild eyed glance at the interloper. “Who the hell are you?”

The young fox, clad in a leather jerkin, a bycocket hat clapped on his head and carrying a pack over his broad shoulders, tightened his grip. His hands, worked hard from life on his father’s farm, were big, heavy and powerful. 

“My name’s Samuel, if you haven’t heard,” the young fox replied. “And I don’t care for how you’re treating Maple.”

A crooked grin spread across Gunder’s lips. “Is that so,” he said with a sneer. “You hear that, fellas? He says he don’t care for how we’re treating this, this man-vixen over here.” He thrust his chin towards Maple. “Just who is he to you?”

Samuel’s eyes narrowed, staring down the other fox. He was bigger around the chest than Gunder, but the other fox looked faster, rangier. “I love him, that’s what.”

Gunder’s sickly yellow gaze widened. “You son of a--”

“Samuel, look out,” cried Maple. 

A chair careened into the back of the fox’s head. Samuel’s grip loosened on Gunder’s wrist as the fox hit the floor. Behind him, the badger stood, still holding the splintered remains of the chair. Maple’s hands flew to his mouth, his eyes growing to the size of saucers. But, Samuel was on his feet, shaking his head with a groan. 

“That was a dirty trick.” The young fox slipped the pack from his back, letting the heavy knapsack tumble to the floor. “Maybe you need a fair fight.” 

A heavy right shot from Samuel to collide with the badger’s jaw. The badger fell, hitting the floor with a thud. Samuel spun, his fists held ready as Gunder made a move. The fox advanced, leading with a wide, left hook. Sinking his weight into the strike, he whipped his black fist around like a bullwhip. But, Samuel ducked, letting the air whoosh over him. His ears flattened to the back of his skull as he came in low, his fist sank into Gunder’s stomach, forcing the other fox to double over with a sickening retch. His face down, Samuel then swung up with a left uppercut into the fox’s jaw. Bone crunched on bone in a spray of crimson and teeth as Gunder’s head whipped back. The fox stumbled and Samuel came in with a right that sent him tumbling over a table, flipping over and crashing to the floor. The room was on its feet in an instant, the other patrons rushing for the sides of the inn as the fight exploded. The ferret leapt in, wrapping his arms around Samuel, pinning the fox’s hands. 

“I got him,” his voice high and reedy.

“That’s good, Jube,” Gunder hissed. He rose up from the floor, blood trickling down his chin from a split lip. His eyes were glittering fever bright with madness. His mouth split open in a wide grin that revealed two broken fangs. “Gonna teach you a lesson, boy.”

Gunder charged in. With Samuel’s arms pinned, there was little he could do to stop the fox from belting him hard across the face. Gunder’s bony fist rocked him as it crashed into his chin, sending stars to burst in his eyes. 

“Samuel, no,” he heard Maple shout. 

“You’re lover can’t help now,” Gunder cackled. His fist slammed into Samuel’s gut, blasting the air from his lungs. 

“Hee hee,” keened the ferret. “Can’t do anything.”

Another punch careened into Samuel’s face and the young fox began to feel his knees grow weak. 

Through the bleary fog that washed over his brain, he heard Gunder whisper, “Gonna have my way with Maple when I’m done, boy. You hear me? You like that, boy?”

A solid fist sank below his sternum. Samuel sagged in the ferret’s arms. Seeing his only love pinned, Maple shoved himself from the table and rushed for Gunder. 

“Leave him alone,” the fox shouted, pounding at Gunder’s back with his slender fists. 

Gunder wheeled, leveling the pregnant male with a backhanded swipe that sent Maple to the floor. “Get off of me, whore.”

Maple lay curled up on the rough boards, a hand to his throbbing cheek. Hot tears streamed down his cheeks as his yellow eyes glared at the other fox. “You’re a coward, Gunder. A coward and bully.”

Gunder stomped over to stand above Maple. His fingers shot out, tangling into Maple’s black hair. Giving a hard pull, he dragged the fox to his knees. “I’ve had about enough of your mouth. Maybe I should skip the pleasantries and just dump your boy out in the woods. Then I’ll take my time with you.” He licked his bloody lips. “Maybe Jube and Furro can take a turn when I’m finished.” He craned his head to call over his shoulder to the ferret. “Hey Jube! You want a piece of this?” He shook the whimpering Maple by the hair. The ferret giggled in reply. 

Meanwhile, Samuel’s blood boiled. Veins swelled in his arms, his muscles growing hard as iron beneath is jerkin. 

“Still want to fight?” Gunder said, letting Maple tumble from his fingers. “Sounds good to me.”

As the fox charged in, Samuel’s feet flew up to slam into his chest. Kicking out with all of his strength, he hurled the fox across the room. Gunder hit the floor and slid, slamming into the back wall to make the beams shake. A growl escaped from Samuel’s lips and he slammed his head back, crashing his skull into the muzzle of the ferret, Jube. His eyes blinded with tears, the ferret let go and fell back, clutching his bloodied nose. Samuel whipped around like a rattlesnake and swung. His fist found its mark in the ferret’s jaw and the hateful creature slumped to the floor like a sack of potatoes. Samuel swallowed the lump in his throat and slowly turned around, his gaze falling on Maple. 

“Maple,” he cried. “I-I got here as fast as I could. I never knew this was going to happen.”

“Oh Samuel,” Mapled replied. “I… I… Oh, Samuel look out!” 

But the young fox needed no warning. The dry rasp of leather was more than enough. Samuel whirled about to find Gunder on his feet. A dagger gleamed in his fist, the rusted point glinting in the flickering light. The fox stepped in, his stance wide. 

“I’m going to kill you, boy,” he snarled.

The blade licked out, just missing Samuel’s arm. Gunder paced in a circle, scuttling like a crab across the creaking boards. He lunged, swiping for Samuel. The blade slid over the fox’s jerkin cutting a fine slash through the worn leather. The color drained from Samuel’s face to see that dreadful weapon. He had to do something. Suddenly, he sprang for his pack. Gunder roared and thrust with his dagger, his arm overextending to plunge the blade into Samuel’s heart. But, the young fox had seized the strap of his pack and with one clean swing, brought the heavy bag around to strike Gunder’s arm. The dagger spun from his fingers to embed itself into the floorboards. Gunder growled  and raised his fists to leap at Samuel when a bright orange tongue of flame belched out. The inn shook with a deafening roar as a hole the size of a dinner plate opened up in the wall. 

“I’ve had just about enough,” roared Bertram. In his hands, the old blunderbuss still smoked. A blue ribbon of burnt powder wafted up from the fluted barrel. “Gunder, I’ve had enough of you. Get your lousy friends out of my inn and never come back. Else you’ll find out that Ol’ Bessie can still shoot.” He lowered his gun and turned towards the other patrons. “And that goes for all of you lot too. Out, now!” 

The room cleared as the patrons fled into the night. Gunder limped into the dark, carrying Jube over one shoulder with help of the badger, Furro who still staggered from the blow he received at Samuel’s hands. The crowd dispersed, Samuel let his bag fall to the floor and stumbled for Maple. His hands took the fox by the wrists, pulling him to his feet. 

“Maple,” he said. “I found you.”

“Yes,” sniffled the other fox. “I suppose you did.”

“So, this is the one Maple has been waiting on,” Bertram said. “I’d say you picked a good one.”

Maple’s cheeks, begrimed as they were, grew crimson. 

“I-I’m sorry about tonight,” Samuel muttered. 

“Gunder is an ass,” the wolf replied, placing the blunderbuss down. “I’d say he got what was coming to him.” 

Samuel wrapped his arms around Maple, holding the pregnant fox tight. He felt the slender body tremble in his arms as Maple sniffled quietly. “I suppose I should get going too.”

“Going?” Bertram said. “What do you mean? You didn’t come all this way just to leave again. I still have a room in the back.” He grinned. “Why don’t you two take it. I’ll clean up the mess.”

Samuel’s face brightened. “Oh that would be perfect. You hear that, Maple?” 

The other fox looked to the floor, his arms wrapped around his belly to clasp the folds of his robe together. His long black hair hung tattered strands over his face. Maple nodded softly, keeping his muzzle lowered as Samuel took him by the arm.