The high afternoon sun slipped behind a passing cloud, cloaking the field in sudden shadow. Samuel stood up from the row of cabbages and wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of a grimy hand. His claws were caked in dried soil and he stopped to pat them on his leather jerkin before returning to the fat, leafy vegetables. Beneath the wide brimmed hat he now wore, the fox’s ears swiveled back, for he knew that he was being watched. The short hairs on the back of his neck prickled as he stooped down. His claws seized up a fat, green cabbage and pulled. Muscles straining like steel cables, he tore the emerald leaves from the black, loamy soil. 

“Ha,” he cried, giving the vegetable a little shake. “Now that’s a fine one, there.” 

Placing the cabbage into a wicker basket by his side, he stopped and turned. Wafting faintly on the warm breeze, his pursuer’s scent came to tickle his nose. Samuel turned back, his fingers tense by his sides. His tail flicked suddenly, his ears pricking up beneath his hat. The fox whirled, but found nothing. 

“Come out,” he shouted. “I know you’re there.”

From behind him now, a soft pattering of padded feet. His heart leapt into his throat. Samuel turned, but there was no one. His breath hung in his chest, he had to run. His feet pounded the spongy earth, dark mud packed between his toes as he charged over the field. A flicker, nothing more than an ember of hot orange, darted in his side vision. No, he thought. He was too late. His foot caught in the soft dirt and the fox toppled. From the bushes, a speeding fireball emerged. With nary a pause, the creature leapt for him with a mad giggle. 

“Got you,” cried Samuel. His massive arms hugged the chortling kit to his broad, powerful chest.

The pair fell into a roll, tumbling over the tilled soil until Samuel at last came to lie on his back, the tiny fox clutched in his arms. 

“Ah, Pa,” the kit said. “I can never catch you.”

Samuel laughed, a deep hearty roar from within his chest. “Son, you almost had me that time.”

The boy’s ears drooped. “But that was on account of you tripping.”

Samuel gave the boy a squeeze. “Sometimes a trip is all it takes. Now, what did you bring your old man today?” 

At the mention, the boy held up a tiny wooden box in his little fists. Samuel’s black paw dwarfed the boy’s hands as he slowly lifted the lid. His yellow eyes narrowed through the darkness to spy the shimmering carapace of blue, shining with green highlights from the thin ray of sunlight that penetrated its wooden prison. 

“Why, it’s a dragonfly,” the fox said. “And a right pretty one at that.”

“Isn’t it, Pa?” the boy. “I caught him down by the creek. There’s a whole mess of them down there right now. And big, fat frogs too.”

“Is that so?” replied Samuel. Giving the boy’s head a pat, his black lips curled softly. “Tell you what Josiah, I need to finish harvesting the cabbage.” He stood up with a groan and sat the boy back on the ground. “How’s about you give your pa a hand?”

“You mean it?” the boy chirped. 

With the boundless energy of youth, the kit leapt for a large, green head and tugged. Samuel shook his head and chuckled. So much like his ma, the fox thought. The boy tore the cabbage up from the earth, releasing a spray of black soil into the air as he stumbled backwards. Has it really been eight years since that day? The fox thought back to that time so long ago now, when he first came to meet Maple in a lonely inn on a forest road. His attention turned back to the kit. He had never learned from Maple who the boy’s real father was. The fox had been pregnant the day they met. Perhaps he did not know, himself, Samuel wondered. An awful life to live. He was glad Maple gave up that world, even more so that he chose to give it up for Samuel. Josiah came bounding up, the cabbage held awkwardly in his paws, his yellow eyes sparkling. The boy may not have been his by blood, Samuel thought, taking the cabbage from the little kit. Plopping it into the basket, he then took his hat from his head and ran his grimy fingers through his shaggy hair. No, the boy was not his by blood, but as far as he was concerned, Josiah was his son. As much his child as the twins which kicked in Maple’s belly now. 

The thought of Maple made the fox’s ears twitch. He could see his love now. His belly, ripe as pumpkin, swollen massively. His breasts, heavy and pendulous, swaying gently beneath his blouse as he smiled at his husband. Samuel’s throat constricted and he swallowed back the lump in his throat as his mind wandered down Maple’s wide, round hips towards his fat, jiggling ass. His cock responded, coming alive to strain against his woolen trousers. 

Tugging the collar of his jerkin, Samuel cleared his throat and said, “Son, perhaps you should run along to the creek now. Thinkin’ I might need to pay your ma a visit.”

Josiah dropped another cabbage into the basket and leapt up, grabbing the little wooden box. “I saw a salamander too, pa. Big, fat thing. Big as ma is now.” The boy giggled. 

“Your ma is pretty big,” Samuel muttered, licking his lips. “Just be back before sundown. Your ma is baking pies and you don’t want to be late.” He watched the boy scamper off through the field, a wicked grin spreading over his lean jowls. “As for me, I think I’ll go and sample the fresh dough.” 

He scooped up the basket with a low chuckle and stomped off towards the house. Their home squatted at the edge of the fields, surrounded by a small copse of maple trees. They could be nothing less than maples. Constructed of grey blocks of stone, the house was capped with a roof of golden thatch. Green vines of ivy snaked up the wide stones, weaving themselves into the thatching, their broad leaves shimmering in the sun as Samuel placed the basket down beside the rough, wooden beams of the doorway. Wiping his paws on the grass before stepping over the threshold, he entered the house. The warm smells of apples and fresh cinnamon came to assault his nostrils with their sweet fragrance. He was glad the trader had come by early this season. Cinnamon was hard to come by in these parts. His padded feet tiptoed silently across the wooden floor, creeping up on the humming figure bent over a heavy, wooden table. Maple’s tail swished back and forth as the fox continued to hum a tuneless ditty. His paws were white with flour and Samuel could see the smear of white across his wife’s cheek when he turned slightly. His raven black hair was tied up and secured, not with a silver pin, but a simple green ribbon. From his wrist, the silver fox charm still glinted, the symbol of their love. 

Samuel paused, his fingers curling into tight balls and then opening again as the fox hungrily watched his lover. Maple had grown well into his role as wife and mother. His wide hips were now enormous. Concealed beneath a thin, green skirt, his fat cheeks wobbled, tempting Samuel as he bent over the table to roll out the dough for the pie crust. He wore a white blouse that barely contained his swollen, milk heavy breasts, the sagging teats hanging fat and pendulous to his waist if not for the ripe barrel of his pregnant belly. His belly, Samuel thought with some satisfaction. Maple’s belly was a massive, round globe that distended from his middle. Within him, two lives slumbered. Samuel could still remember the squeal of joy which rocked the house when Maple learned of the good news. Twins! It was almost hard to believe. 

Placing a rolling pin aside, Maple stood and blew a sigh. His hand went to his lower back as the fox groaned. 

“Oh, you two are not getting any lighter,” he moaned, patting his swollen belly. 

“Perhaps, they take after their pa,” came a deep rumble. 

A pair of thick, calloused hands wrapped around his belly as a broad, hard chest pressed into his back. Maple’s full black lips could not resist turning up as he felt the warmth of Samuel’s fur. The fox’s lips found his neck, peppering his throat until he grazed Maple’s ear, sending delightful little ripples down his aching back. 

“Husband,” Maple reprimanded. “You know I’m not finished baking yet.”

“I just came to lick the bowl is all,” Samuel replied. 

His tongue slithered along Maple’s furry lobe, plunging down his ear. The fox shuddered as an electric thrill raced down his spine. 

“O-Oh, Samuel,” he moaned. “Not now. What if Josiah should come through the door?”

“The boy is down by the creek,” Samuel purred. His strong fingers gripped his wife’s belly hard, digging into the soft, taut flesh until the tiny flutterings of the twins protested, kicking against his hands. “He’ll be down there for some time.”

His lips met Maple’s in a deep, aching kiss that threatened to steal very air from the pregnant fox’s lungs. Taking Maple’s blouse, he tugged it up, spilling the fox’s ripe breasts over the swollen expanse of his pregnant belly. His fur was the color of fresh cream, the bumpy areolas a shimmering, firm black. Like two hard coals cast in a field of newly fallen snow. His hands, hard, rough hands, the fingers strengthened by work and toil, took that heavy mound firmly. Maple let out a deep moan, his snout tilting upwards as Samuel grasped his soft breast. 

“Ngh, Samuel,” his voice was a breathless whisper, a mere gasp. “Please, not now. I haven’t finished the baking.”

“But I have this fresh, warm dough in my hand,” the fox replied, playing with Maple’s heavy, wobbling teat. His fingers flicked the black nipple, finding it erect. “I thought perhaps, you needed my help in kneading?”

His other hand shot up to clutch Maple’s other breast. Fingers sought black flesh and he squeezed both nipples, twisting the firm buds as Maple’s eyes fell closed. His mouth opened, falling slack as he groaned under the sensuous tortures of his husband’s powerful hands. 

“O-Oh, Samuel, I… I….” He could not form the words. 

His body protested, rebelling against his mind as desire steeped hot within his pregnant belly. The twins shifted gently, rocking against his bloated womb, compelling him to submit to his lover’s advances. Sweat pooled beneath his blouse as his fur grew hot and damp. At last, he fell forward, his palms bracing his gravid frame against the table. Samuel’s hand came around to trace the curve of his spine, the sharp claws questing lower and lower. Curving around the base of his tail, Maple’s ears shot up as Samuel’s hand slipped beneath the waistband of his skirt. Meanwhile, his husband’s free hand came to rest on the ripe curve of his pregnant belly. 

“I heard a little massage is good for the mother,” Samuel chuckled. His fingers dipped between Maple’s fat cheeks, middle and ring fingers plunging into his hot, gaping hole. 

Maple’s eyes snapped wide and the fox let out a sharp cry as Samuel’s fingers slid up the smooth walls of his rectum to strike his core. 

“A-Ah, what kind of massage is this?” shrieked the fox. 

“The kind that’s going to light your fire,” Samuel growled, his voice thick and husky. 

The wind was blasted from Maple’s lungs as Samuel slid back, his fingers trembling against the firm muscles of Maple’s ring. He plunged back, slamming hard into the fox’s prostate, making his male wife holler to the rafters. Maple’s belly shook as he sobbed for breath. His heart thundered against his ribs as he gripped the edge of the table until his claws dug shallow gouges into the wood. 

“Oh, you're a wicked man,” he gasped. He licked the salty sweat from his lips. “A cruel, wicked, handsome man.” His body felt like a hot coal, his blood boiling. His black lips slid back from his white fangs as his mouth twisted into a leering smirk. “You make momma so hungry.” 

With a speed belying his heavily pregnant form, Maple whirled on Samuel. A slender, flour coated fist shot out like a serpent, clasping the fox’s jerkin, dragging him in close with a frightening strength. Maple’s eyes shone, bright and venomous, like two yellow embers glowing with a feverish lust. His pink tongue slithered over his dripping white fangs as he stared, eyes wide with barely contained madness. 

“Momma’s hungry,” he said again, untying the ribbon from his hair. Long, black locks fell like spilled ink down his back as he leaned in. His breath was hot and moist against Samuel’s bull neck. “You’re going to have to satisfy me, husband. You know that.”

Samuel’s powerful hands clasped his buttocks, squeezing hard until Maple let out a sharp, “Ha!” 

His cock straining against his pants, eager to be free, Samuel lifted Maple to the table, slamming his gravid body onto the dusty top. “Maybe we shouldn’t do this with the pies so near by.” He chuckled, his ears drooping. 

But, Maple’s desire had been too greatly aroused. The pregnant fox brought his knees to his chin and cried. “Forget the pies! Come and devour me, husband!”

Samuel pulled up the green skirt, tucking it past Maple’s wide hips. Next came the undergarments, the white cloth thrown casually over his shoulder. There before him, a small, black shaft dared to peer out from a snow white sheath. Two round, firm orbs dangled below, a pair of ripened cherries begging to be plucked. Propped up on his elbows, Maple smiled softly, his yellow eyes flickering. 

“Come to me, husband,” he sighed. 

Samuel slid between his wife’s legs, savoring the softness of their fur. Maple had grown, his sleek thighs now fat with motherhood. His clawed fingers sank deep into warm thigh flesh as he parted his lover wide. Maple laid back with a moan, his hands now stretching above his head. His black hair spilled across the table, glinting with the first hints of silver. He had grown older, more mature. Samuel’s cock swelled against his trousers, the desire overwhelming. Hands shaking, he touched Maple’s bare belly. The pregnant fox gasped, his swollen mound trembling as Samuel’s fingers raked through the bristling fur. Fingertips rasping through the soft pelt, Samuel let his hands caress Maple’s inner thigh. Slowly, he wrapped an arm around his leg, muscles bulging from the short sleeve of his jerkin. 

How Samuel too, had grown, Maple now thought. Over the hump of his heavy, gravid belly, he could see his love, his husband. Husband! He mulled the word over his tongue, tasting it. After eight years, it was still just as sweet. Samuel’s muzzle was flecked with grey, transforming his boyish good looks into the tempered steel of manhood. Life on the farm had built his stout muscles. He had grown large. His arms like barrels, swelling with hard, powerful strength. Maple licked his black lips as his gaze wandered over the jerkin. Stained with sweat, the worn leather fought to contain the male’s girth. His broad chest strained against the garment, tugging at the thin laces which held it closed. 

Samuel’s shaggy head bent, his fangs glinting in the thin sunlight which permeated through the window of the kitchen. His jaws, dripping with a raw, primal hunger, sank deep into the meaty flesh of Maple’s thigh. The pregnant fox cried out as pain and pleasure tore through his brain, rattling his every nerve. His claws dug into the table as he cried out. 

“Husband, why do you tease me so?” he wailed. His belly wobbled, trembling with his sobbing breaths. 

But Samuel ignored his wife’s pleas, his jaws, his tongue, working their way down Maple’s thigh, questing ever closer to the fox’s treasure. Maple’s cock sprang up, a tiny pillar of black on a field of white. A shimmering bead of dew glistened from the tip as Samuel’s lips met the quivering flesh. 

“After so many years,” he said. “I can still make you hard.”

Maple could not help but chuckle. “I think, dear husband,” he said, his lips curling. “That I should be the one saying that.”

“And you will say it proudly,” Samuel called. 

The fox peeled down his trousers and the breath stole from Maple’s throat to see that great ebon pillar rise. The muscles of Samuel’s legs framed his erect manhood like a furred Adonis. His cock rose, shimmering precum flowing down the swollen tip, commanding Maple’s utter obedience. The pregnant male’s pulse quickened to see this powerful, dominant creature standing over him, demanding his submission. His body fell limp upon the table as Samuel leaned in, his hands grasping for his wife’s hips. 

“A-Aaah,” Maple groaned. 

“I haven’t even touched you,” laughed his husband. 

Maple’s head slumped back, his eyes falling closed. “Your very presence is enough to drive me to madness, husband.”

Samuel wrapped an arm around Maple’s leg, rolling him to his side, allowing the fox to lean in against his wife. His lips nuzzled Maple’s ear as he whispered softly. 

“Does that mean you no longer need my fat, hard cock?”

Maple’s ears twitched, his tail flicking behind him. “Mmm, I think it means you will be sleeping outside from now on.”

Samuel’s laugh was throaty and deep. His teeth found Maple’s ear and bit, causing the other fox to yelp. His claws sought the fat, soft folds of his round ass, sinking to the knuckles as he pulled apart Maple’s cheeks. Maple’s fingers swirled through the dusting of flour still on the table, cutting lazy circles in the blanket of white powder as his ring, slack and wet, was laid open. The warm, wet air of late summer tickled his anus, making the fox shiver as Samuel’s velvet tip touched his dark button. 

“Mmm,” Maple groaned through his nose. “Husband, do not tarry so. Your poor wife hungers for your touch.” His mouth split into a wide, leering grin. 

Samuel’s deep, baritone voice was a purr, pouring into Maple’s ear like a dark, heady wine. “Then allow your doting husband to satisfy you.”

Slick and shiny, his throbbing shaft speared Maple to the very core. The pregnant fox let loose a cry as Samuel’s hard cock filled his rectum. His bloated belly swelled, distending with painfully, delicious expansion as his husband pushed further. Maple’s claws dug into the table, the air blasted from his aching lungs as Samuel pulled back, stirring his hips, drawing the excitement into boiling ecstasy before plunging once more. 

“A-Ah, yes,” Maple growled. “N-Nah… S-Samuel…”

Samuel’s face was crimson, his fur damp with sweat as he rocked against the plump, ripe meat of Maple’s fat ass. The slap of raw flesh was like a bullwhip cracking through the house. Gasping, his hips pumping faster, he reached with trembling fingers to take up his wife’s breast. Maple’s hand flew to his wrist, clutching numbly, clinging to his husband with a tenacious strength as Samuel gave his milky tit a squeeze. 

“A-Ah,” the fox moaned. 

“You’ve gotten heavy,” Samuel groaned. His fingers played about the swollen flesh. “So big, and full.”

“My cruel husband does not give me enough of his attention,” whimpered Maple. “He’s off in the fields all day, leaving me alone.” His lower lip quivered. 

“Such a brute,” growled Samuel. “I’ll have to thrash him but good if I get my hands on him.”

Maple gripped his jerkin, tugging him down so that their muzzles met. “I want your hands on me,” he hissed. “Give me a good thrashing.” 

His full, dark lips crashed into Samuel’s slackened maw, locking the pair together in a bruising kiss. Maple’s fingers slid along the smooth hide of Samuel’s jerkin, finding the hem. Like a serpent, he slithered up under the thin leather, his fingers dancing along the ripples of his husband’s muscled belly. His ring contracted, closing hard around Samuel as he felt the powerful abdominals shiver beneath his touch. Samuel let out a grunt and pushed, his cock swelling proudly against Maple’s quivering anus. 

“Spare me not your rod,” the fox whispered, his muzzle nestling into Samuel’s collarbone. “Give me your strength.”

Samuel pulled back, wrapping his arm over Maple’s thigh. Taking up his other leg, he flipped the pregnant fox onto his back and lifted his hips. The muscles in his arms bulged, the veins swelling against his orange fur as he arched his back and drove himself with all of his might. His black member surged deep, slamming hard into Maple’s trembling core. The fox howled, his cries of love rising into a high shriek that shook the straw from the thatch roof above. 

“Yes. Oh yes!” he wailed. 

Samuel rocked back, pushing once more into that hot, wet breach. His balls churned with fresh seed, his desire to release bubbling over. His balls retracted against his pelvis as he slammed his pubic bone into Maple’s ass, locking the pair together. His jaws fell open and the fox let out a deep growl as his manhood erupted. Hot, bubbling seed burst, spraying into Maple’s ass, flooding his already bloated womb. His belly growing hot, Maple’s hands flew to his swollen middle, his tongue rubbing the roof of his mouth as he savored the wonderful ache of his husband’s virile essence. 

“H-Husband,” he stammered. His black hair was matted to his sweaty brow, yet his eyes still glimmered sharp and alert. “You were so wonderful.” His belly gurgled softly, wobbling with a deep satisfaction that seeped into his very bones. His eyes drooped and he let the bone-weariness overtake him, allowing him to drift into the hazy dreamland that only Samuel’s powerful love could give him. 

Samuel placed his hand on Maple’s cheek, stroking the damp, orange fur. With a finger, he traced the border of the white around the fox’s muzzle. “Was that to your satisfaction, my love?”

“And then some,” came the dreamy reply. Suddenly, Maple’s eyes snapped open. The fox staggered up to a sitting position, bracing himself with his palms. “Oh my, Josiah!”

“What about Josiah?” Samuel asked. “The boy is off by the creek, like I said.”

“No dear,” Maple snapped. “It’s nearly sundown. The boy should have come back.” 

At once, the warm blanket of their love had been so cruelly torn away. A cold chill fell over the couple and Samuel quickly tugged on his trousers. 

“I’ll go find him,” he cried, dashing from the house.

Maple flng his gravid body for the door. His blouse still clung about his heavy breasts while his skirt fell in tangle disarray around his wide hips. “Hurry,” he cried after the retreating form of his husband. “Oh, Samuel, do find him.” His hair hung about his narrow face, his black, flour coated hand to his lips. His yellow eyes flashed with stark fear. “Please Samuel,” his voice fading to a dry whisper. “Do bring him back.”

[center]***[/center]

His black feet clawed the spongy turf, churning the loamy soil into muck. Clods of clay flew into the darkening sky as Samuel sped through the fields. Behind him, the sun was fast lowering behind the hills, a great orange fireball staining the sky a bloody crimson. Above, the first hints of purple and blue would begin to usher in the coming night. 

“Josiah,” Samuel’s cry broke the still air. “Son, where are you?” 

His barrel chest heaved as he gulped great lungfuls of air. His muddy paws quickened their pace as he ran towards the creek. 

“Please be okay,” he whispered. “Please be okay.” 

Shadows spread over the land, their long, inky fingers extending to swallow him into the gloom. Samuel lowered his head, his lungs pumping as he put all of his strength into his legs. His ears swiveled forward, just catching the faint babble of running water. Coming to a sudden stop at the edge of the tall grass, he peered into the churning waters, now black with the fading light. There by the bank, a tiny wooden box lay on its side, the lid having fallen open. Samuel’s heart turned to water as he scooped up the little box in a numb fist.

“Josiah,” he called, but was answered only by the insects. A bullfrog thrummed a low, mournful note, but that was all. “Josiah!”

Samuel’s ears lowered, his clawed  feet digging into the dirt. Where was the boy? His heart leapt into his throat, making his pulse pound in his ears, driving out all other sounds. 

“Pa,” a faint voice echoed. 

Samuel’s ears pricked up, he whirled in the direction of that pitiful cry. 

“Pa,” came a second shout. 

“Son,” Samuel called. He raced along the bank, heedless of the sharp brambles that pricked his feet. “Son, where are you?”

“I’m here,” the boy cried. 

Samuel stopped, his face the color of clay. There was the boy, alive, thank heavens, but he was holding on for dear life. His tiny, shivering paws were wrapped around a slippery river rock that jutted up from the churning surf. 

“Pa, help,” Josiah whimpered. “I-I fell in and I can’t hold on forever.”

Tossing the box aside, Samuel tore the jerkin from his chest and dove head first into the black waters. “I’m coming, son,” he cried out, his great arms cutting through the frigid waters. 

The rushing surf battered at his face, threatening to send him under. A wave came up, striking him solidly in the face. Samuel sputtered, inhaling a lungful of water. Icy daggers stabbed his chest as he rose up, coughing and gasping. Another frightful wave surged up, threatening to plunge his back under the churning waters, when Samuel’s knee struck the smooth rocks on the creek bottom. The fox’s ears pricked up as the realization dawned on him. 

“Pa, I can’t hold on anymore.” Josiah squeezed his eyes shut and whimpered. “M-My hands are slipping.”

“Son,” Samuel said.

“Pa,” the boy screamed. “Pa, I’m… I’m…”

“Son,” Samuel said. “Just stand up.”

Josiah’s eyes fluttered open. Framed in the dim light of the setting sun, his father stood above him, the creek waters rising to his knees. The male fox grinned, his hands on his hips. 

“Son, it’s only knee deep,” he chuckled.

With the sniffling boy on his shoulders, Samuel stepped from the cold creek water. 

“I-I saw a salamander, Pa,” the boy said with a sniff. “It was a right pretty one too. I slipped and fell in the water. The current carried me to that rock. I thought I was a goner for sure.” The boy wiped his nose with a dripping sleeve and shivered. “That was scary, Pa.”

“Not as scary as when your ma finds out about this,” Samuel replied. “Oh boy, your ma won’t like this one bit.”

Josiah’s face blanched. “What’s Ma going to do?”

“Probably tan both our hides, but good,” the male fox said. “Best let me do the talking, right son?”

“You better believe I’ll tan your hide,” snarled Maple. He stood in the doorway, the glow of the fire behind him, setting his orange fur to shine. “Just what were you thinking, young man?”

“M-Ma,” the boy whimpered. His tunic sagged on this scrawny frame, soaking wet and dripping onto the packed dirt in front of the house. “I saw a salamander.”

“He saw a salamander,” said Samuel. “It’s nothing to get excited about.”

“Excited?” Maple’s voice dropped an octave, turning into a masculine growl. “Don’t give me this excited nonsense, husband. Just look at you both, dripping wet. You’re going to catch your death out there.”

“Then let us inside,” Samuel pleaded. 

Maple placed his hands on his plump hips. “Not until you learn a lesson, both of you. Honestly, Samuel, I told you not to let the boy play down by the creek.” His bushy tail swished in irritation behind him. 

“Ah, dear,” Samuel said with a wave of his hand. “The boy ain’t hurt. Besides, a little adventure does him some good.”

“If you call nearly drowning an adventure.” Maple crossed his arms over his ample breasts and huffed. 

Samuel’s expression knitted into a scowl. “Just when did you become such an old hen?”

“Old hen?” screeched the pregnant fox. His face bleached bone white, his ears pricking straight up. “I-I’m not an old hen.” Maple seemed to deflate, his shoulders slumping. “I just, well, I care about my family is all.”

Samuel’s lips curled into a grin and he took his wife into his arms. Despite his cold, dripping fur, Maple nestled his muzzle into Samuel’s chest. 

“You smell like a wet dog,” he mumbled. 

Samuel’s great body rumbled with a laugh. “I thought you liked it?”

“You’ll never grow up, will you,” Maple said, turning his face up. 

Samuel’s lips met his in a gentle kiss. “Never.”

Maple pushed himself from his husband and smoothed out his skirt, now darkened and wet. “Enough of this fun,” he said. “Time for supper.”

Seeing the pregnant fox waddle back into the house, Samuel turned and flashed a wink to his son. “Told you,” he snickered. “Just let me do the talking.”

“You saved us both, Pa,” the boy replied. 

“Well son,” said Samuel. “It’s time we got inside. I’d say to wash up for supper, but looking at you, I’d say you already have.” He let out a gusty laugh and slapped his thigh. 

Josiah could not help but join his father. While the two foxes continued to chuckle, the warm scents of fresh roast and the spicy sweetness of cinnamon wafted from the doorway. 

“Your ma’s pies should be ready for after supper,” Samuel said. “Can’t wait for those.”

“Not if I get to them first,” the boy cried and leapt through the doorway.”