The flimsy wood of the old chair creaked beneath my weight as I sat back from the desk. Averting my gaze from the open diary set before me, I would instead turn my bleak thoughts to the single window. Outside, the rain was coming down. Fat droplets spattered against the glass of the pane in a ceaseless cacophony as I would inevitably return to the blank page set before me. Again, I pick up my pen, the faint scratches of the nib a chorus to the rain outside. Alone, I sat in this miserable little room in a miserable little inn, in some equally miserable village. The chamber was composed of a floor of simple wooden boards, each warped by the damp and by age, while the bed, though sturdy and the linens surprisingly clean, offered scant in the way of comfort. I let out a sigh and placed my pen down on the desk. Perhaps, what I really felt was the sense of longing for Alistair. The thrill of my fingers running through his fur, the curious and enchanting swell of his gravid middle. My heart began to race and I once more felt the tingle upon my lips, the sweet taste of his warm, succulent mouth on my own, the tang of his sweat and the round, wide hips in my hands. 
I closed the diary before me and settled back into my chair, remembering that night. I had just arrived at the village of Mayferd. It was little more than a sleepy fishing hamlet. A few buildings overlooking a drab and cheerless coast. My footsteps plodded through the shimmering puddles, their gleam reflecting the glow of the lamps which burned from behind curtained windows. Night had long since fallen with the last rosy fingers of day slipping down below the horizon. The gloom of the evening surrounded me, enveloping me in utter darkness, save for the few pricks of light welcoming me towards the only inn within that tiny village. The inn itself was not much more than a large shack. It sat two stories, with four windows peaking back at me like great eyes. Its yawning mouth of a door was closed, though thankfully I discovered that it was unlocked. Turning the knob, I stepped forth into the inn, my shoes scuffing the worn floorboards. The common room was empty by this time of night. The tables were bare of all furnishings, the fire which was left to burn in a massive stone hearth had dwindled to but a few bright embers. I shifted the straps of my pack and crossed the room towards a single counter at which I discovered a sleeping ursine. The bear’s dropping muzzle was almost comical, slipping lower and lower towards the slanted countertop. He was clad in a simple shirt and trousers, a ledger was left open by his elbow. 
“Excuse me, sir,” I said, not wishing to frighten the fellow. 
The bear’s eyes opened, blinking into the shadows of the common room. Upon seeing me, he gave a great yawn and then in a gruff voice which was so common of his ilk, he grumbled. “Eh, what’s that?”
“Sir,” I said. “I wish to rent a room for the evening.”
The bear looked at me as if I were an apparition. Finally, he shoved the ledger towards me and mumbled, “Be one silver.”
“A silver!” I exclaimed. “For a room? Why for such a price, I should expect the beds to be adorned in silk.”
The innkeeper was apparently not amused and merely gave a huff. “One silver, take it or leave it. Beds are scarce. Now what will it be?”
I will say that I was not about to sleep in the bushes and so, though much chagrined, I agreed to the ursine thief’s demands and handed over one silver piece. I took up an offered pen and signed my name onto the yellowed page. 
“Cormac,” the bear grumbled. “An unusual name for a coyote.”
“My mother was part wolf,” I replied before standing back up. 
The bear uttered an audible scoff and handed me the key, indicating a set of rickety, uneven stairs with his thumb. I turned from the sour-face creature, thankful enough to be away from him. I did not even bother to ask if the kitchen was still open. I would imagine the unpleasant bear would have only given me grief for it. I trudged up the stairs, seeking my room and a place to bed down for the night. Peeling blue paint adorned the door, the knob of tarnished brass. I wrinkled my nose, expecting the worst when I thrust the key into the lock and twisted. The door opened inward with a squeal of rusted metal, revealing to me a simple, if tidy room. The floor was bare, but swept, the walls of a green paper, which though faded, was not poorly maintained. However, as I stepped into the room and closed the door behind me, I was struck by a most unusual sight. 
“Why, there are two beds in here,” I said aloud. 
Sure enough, one bed sat near the window. Silvery moonlight streaming through the glass, the motes dancing in the radiant beam like so many fairies in the twilight. The other bed was set not far, closer to the middle of the room and the linens had been untucked and pulled aside. As if…
“Someone was here,” I muttered. 
“I should say so,” came a high, musical voice. 
I gave a start and whirled, finding myself struck by a sight which would forever take my breath away. He was a fox, his fur white as the first snows of winter. His body gleamed in the low light of a single candle, orange flickering across the supple ripples of his back. His lithe, slender body swelled before my eyes as my gaze wandered down the curve of his spine to the base of his long, elegant tail. His hips, how they made my mouth water so. Round and wide, complete with two ripened buttocks as fat and smooth as albin pearls. His sleek thighs jiggled ever so slightly with a strangely alluring plumpness, tapering into a pair of slim, well formed calves. He turned back to look at me, his eyes as blue as sapphires. His lips were black as jet, glistening full and wet, shining orange from the candlelight. Slowly, upon seeing me, he smiled, those perfect lips stretching sensually across his muzzle to let bare his white, spotless fangs. The fox was standing in a large wooden tub, the steam still rising from the water. The scents of tallow soap and curiously, I would soon learn, of milk, wafted gently in the warm, damp air. His fur was wet, dripping, and he was clutching a soaking rag in one slim and agile hand. 
“Oh my,” he exclaimed and his voice was like the tingle of a harp in my ears. “Why, a visitor? At this hour?”
Far from horrified, my new roommate appeared to be thrilled. I, however, was in a black mood at this. 
“Why, that scoundrel,” I barked. “That bear! He must have sold me this room, knowing that it was already rented.”
I was about to make for the door and storm downstairs, when the white fox was lighting from the tub. The slap of his feet rang out in the stillness of the night air, his paw suddenly upon my arm. His fingers sent a thrill racing up my arm, my heart fluttering. I turned to look into a pair of intense blue eyes. Those scintillating sapphire orbs seemed to drink in my very soul, to hold me rigid to that spot. I gulped, unsure of what to do. The fox smiled, his lips hovering so deliciously close to my own. 
“Oh now,” he whispered. “No need to be so upset. Why, I for one love company.” He laughed again, that musical, lilting strum which set my heart to throb. “I am Alistair.”
“I am Cormac,” I replied softly. 
“Cormac? A lovely name,” Alistair yipped. “Well then, seeing as we are no longer strangers, perhaps you would care to set aside your pack and join me?”
“Join you?” I cried. “Join you where?”
He held up the dripping rag in his fist. “In the bath, of course. Surely, you would wish to rid yourself of the dirt and dust of the weary road?”
“I suppose,” said I. My grey ears drooped and I turned cautiously from the fox to place my pack down on the bed closest to the window. I then turned back to the fox and a great cry of alarm flew from my slackened lips. “Alistair!” I nearly shouted. “You’re… You’re pregnant!”
I had not seen when he was in the tub, for his back was fully to me. Now that the fox was standing in front of me, there was no concealing the expansive swell of his belly. Like an immense white orb, his gravid middle was thrust before me, the distended navel, like a small hump on that impressive sphere. His chest, two apricots of milk-heavy bliss. Nipples of ebon flesh dared to peek out through the soft, white fur, erect and firm, tiny specks of fresh milk crowning their black peaks like the snows atop the mountains. His sagging breasts laid themselves out upon his belly, a fitting dish to be served to me and my stomach roiled with a hunger which I had never before known. I shook my head, trying to turn away from such a sight, but the fox would not allow it. He came to me, his belly nuzzling into my stomach. The faint flutters of new life kicked out within his swollen womb, peppering me with the tiny protests of his unborn. 
“Oh now,” he said. “What is this?” His slim hand was on my chest, fingers sliding along the ridge of muscle which rose from my pectorals. “Are you so shocked at what you see?”
“I-I was not expecting such a sight,” I replied. I was suddenly ashamed of my actions. The heat bloomed on my cheeks and I averted my gaze from the smiling vulpine. Who was I to judge this fox?
But, Alistair would return a throaty laugh. His muzzle came so dangerously close to my ear. I felt his breath, warm and wet against my cheek and the illicit thrill did make my heart leap. 
“Are you ashamed of what you see?” His swollen belly pressed into my stomach, his hips tilting so that he began to swirl his gravid middle around and around, rubbing delectably against me. My cock stirred in my trousers, a hot desire growing rapidly within me. His fingers inched across my chest, finding the gap between the buttons of my shirt. His fingertips grazed the fur of my chest to steal an excited gasp from me. “Or is it that you saw something you liked?”
His voice poured into my ear like a heady wine. My face bloomed scarlet, my heart pounding. I turned to the fox, finding his lips hovering before my mouth. My muzzle came closer, just touching those perfect black cushions. How I wished to seize him then, to take him, wholly and utterly. To crush him into my arms and to… to… The thought made me step back. Alistair’s nimble fingers were undoing the buttons of my shirt, slipping the garment from my shoulders. Letting my shirt tumble to the floor, his fingers spread across my chest. The nails, hard, black and glinting like raw obsidian, raked through the scruff of my fur, seeking the waistband of my trousers. I groaned, unable to muster the strength to repel such a wondrous creature. 
“You cannot bathe in your clothes,” he chuckled and my trousers soon joined my discarded shirt. 
My cock leapt free, a throbbing rod of crimson flesh. Veins of bright azure speckled my rigid member like marble. A muscular knot swelled from my sheath like the cross guard of a broadsword and how I longed to pierce that fox with my quivering blade. I could think of nothing else as I was led to the steaming tub. The fresh scent of soap and the warmth of the water did my heart good. Alistair stepped lightly into the wooden tub, offering me a slender hand which took readily. The water splashed softly, lapping around our calves, for the tub was far too small for one of us, let alone two. He placed the rag in my hand and turned his back to me. 
“In my condition, I find it so hard to wash my back,” he lamented. “Could you scrub me?”
My hand was shaking, my fingers numb, but I managed to place that dripping rag to his elegant shoulder. Down, I plunged, slipping along the curve of his ribs, the swell of a hip. I circled his buttock and came back up his spine. My other hand fell to his hip, his ripe, soft flesh was so warm in my hand. I brought the rag back to his shoulder and Alistair let his head tilt to the side, exposing his supple throat to me. My lips suddenly became very dry and my throat contracted. My heart leapt, yet I resisted the temptation. With a shaking hand, I brought the wet rag to his swollen belly, exploring the curve of his round middle. The faint stirrings of new life struck me, thrilling me as I came to graze a breast. Dare I? I slid up his breast, circling a black, rigid nipple. 
“That is not my back,” the fox purred. “Mmm, but if you insist.”
His slender hand took mine, the white fingers strong and nimble. He led me down, sweeping his heaving belly, coming up under his gravid middle. His succulent thighs quivered, the muscles supple and firm beneath the soft layer of his wobbling maternal padding. The breath escaped my lungs, my heart verily leaping into my throat as he brought my hand to the plump fruits which dangled between his legs. His little balls were as two ripe plums, his cock a rapier of ebon steel. 
I must have let out an audible gasp, for Alistair then said, “Do you partake of the tender fruits of my vine, Cormac?”
The rag fell from my fingers, striking the lip of the tub with a wet slap. I took him, grasping him with both hands so that the fox let out a squeal. My fingers sank into the flesh of his belly, running through the wet, dripping fur. Endlessly, I swirled around his gravid middle, my breath hot on his neck. My lips met his throat, tracing the delicate curve of his chin to find those perfect lips. Our mouths met in a kiss which robbed me of breath. His lips, the taste of his tongue as it darted from between his jaws. My tongue swirled, twisting around his, slipping deep into his wanting mouth to caress the ridged palate, to play along the white teeth, like a string of pearls on stretched red silk. 
Alistair moaned softly through flared nostrils, his fat, round ass pressing into my throbbing groin. Those flabby cheeks enveloped my cock, my rod burying itself into his snowy mounds. The clever vulpine twisted his hips, circling, swaying, stirring my desires into a red hot inferno which boiled in my belly. Bitter tears wept from my tip to stain his flawless pelt with the opalescent droplets of my precum. My balls, fat with fresh seed, churned, demanding release. My legs quivered, urging me to buck like a mad horse, to crash myself into this creature’s gaping flower and to sup upon the honeyed nectar of his love. My hand raked the thick scruff of his lower belly, tangling into the weave of his pubic fur. I took his rigid pole in my hand, the flesh hot and throbbing in my fingers. I stroked, sliding up his shaft, stirring the fox to new heights of elation. Alistair wrapped an arm around my neck, clinging to me lest he fall from my grasp. The water splashed around us, jostled by our erratic movements to slosh upon the floor. I cupped a sagging breast, my finger playing with the hardened nub which thrust itself from that snowy expanse.
Slowly, laboriously, I would pull myself from his lips, leaving his mouth swollen with my love. My hot face sought the refuge of his shoulder, succoring myself in his soft fur, whimpering as I relinquished his quivering manhood. I traveled down his sleek inner thigh, the muscles squirming just below the flesh, his legs beginning to part themselves to my touch, as if in expectation of what was to come. Alistair’s hips circled my throbbing rod, making his intentions all too clear.
“O-Oh, Cormac,” he sighed. “Is bath time over then?” His smile was infectious. “Perhaps, it is quite late.” He turned and wrapped his arms around my neck. His belly was drawn into me, while his heaving breasts swung above his maternal girth. “We should be in bed, wouldn’t you agree?”
I could say nothing, for in that moment, I felt as if my tongue had grown two sizes too big for my jaws. I reached up, taking a breast in my hand. With my thumb, I swirled around the bumpy areola, flicking the seeping nipple with my finger, letting the fresh trickle of warm milk dribble into my palm. Alistair writhed in my claws, helpless, yet ecstatic. I leaned close, my lips nuzzling his ear. 
“My bed or yours?” I asked, my voice a husky purr which poured from deep in my chest. 
His scent was like nothing I had ever smelled before. The tang of sweat and the sweet freshness of milk mixed with the tallow smell of soap to play in my nostrils. He smelled of raw desire, of passionate nights and the sweetness of the following morning. I craved him then, like no other. I grasped his arms, pulling him from the tub. The fox let out a tinkling laugh and spun on his heels, guiding me to his bed. He fell onto the mattress, his belly thrust up to the ceiling, those sapphire eyes glinting like cut gemstones. I eagerly clambered after him, setting the springs to shriek beneath our weight. His belly rose to meet me and I gleefully met that swollen orb with a kiss. My tongue swirled around his wet, fur, lapping the distended navel, tracing down his underbelly, only to rise once more, seeking to claim a jiggling breast. I seized up such a prize, my hungry mouth closing around the black peak. My tongue did circle, licking, nudging the firm bud which dribbled its sweet elixir. Like a fine wine, I let it dance on my tongue. The taste thrilled me, stoking the fires of my lust. I bit and Alistair shivered, mewling in my grasp as milk did flow, fresh and sweet, from his bloated breast. 
Greedily, I would drink, imbibing the enchanting potion like a drunkard to his ale. My head swam, the intoxicating brew setting the room to spin before my eyes. I pulled my lips from his leaking tit, panting for breath. My cock had grown painfully erect and I could not hold back. I took a wide hip, my lips to his throat. Alistair shrieked in giddy elation, his slender paw curling around my member. He began to stroke, pumping slowly, but growing faster, harder with each rise and fall of his hand. I felt myself tumbling, the mattress rising up to meet me. I was lying on my back, looking up at the ceiling, the rafters a rough, dark wood. Alistair loomed over me, filling my vision. His fingers, cruel and wonderful, stroked me faster, closing around my tip. With thumb and forefinger, he worked that narrow point, while his other hand gripped my knot and twisted. I let out a warbling cry of such ecstasy, my cock spurting a shimmering stream of precum onto his white belly. 
But, the fox would lean closer, his muzzle now above my manhood. He sighed, his tongue, like a flat, pink worm, slithered from between his jaws to lap at my tender flesh. He curled around my shivering cock, his lips closing around the red flesh. He brought his muzzle down, plunging into the tangled grey and brown jungle of my pubic fur. Up, he would rise, his lips wrapping hard around my cock, milking my throbbing shaft. His tongue, never stopping, slithered up my plump undershaft. I clung to the bed, groaning, my fur dampened by more than just the water from the bath. My balls wept, crying out to give myself to the fox, but I could not. Still I hungered for so much more. 
Alistair plucked his lips from my weeping rod, leaving my manhood slick and shiny. “Mmm, that about does it.”
He rose, his thighs spreading to straddle my hips. He lowered himself, his belly pressing into the ripples of my muscled abdomen. My cock throbbed against his ample buttocks, made fat and dimpled by his maternal girth. My claws grasped his rump, fingers digging deep into yielding flesh. The fox gave a little whimper, thrusting his pregnant belly into me with a sensual glee. 
“Mmm, yes,” he moaned. “Harder, grip me harder.”
His slender hands curled over my shoulders and I parted his cheeks, the scent of his flower fluttered into my nose, the aroma enough to make my head swim. Alistair sat back, his gaping ring slack and wet, eager to press itself to my cock. His hips were above my pelvis, my tip just grazing the petals of his blossom. My heart was thudding in my chest, for the fox was already lowering himself. His anus bloomed, taking me deep so that my manhood crashed into his very core. He shuddered atop me, his hips swaying, circling, stroking my cock. I let out a moan, grasping his hips and bucking up to slam into his quivering prostate. Alistair wailed, coming down hard to grind himself into my pubic bone. My pelvis creaked beneath his weight, yet I could not back away. I came in harder, faster, not slowing, not stopping. I wished only to bury myself into his very essence. 
The fox collapsed into my arms and I spun, driving him into the bed. He let go of my hips and turned himself so that he now lay on his hands and knees. I took his hips, coming up on my knees and thrust, spearing him deep so that Alistair did howl like a beast in the throes of its death agony. I came in harder, circling, lifting him up. I let him fall, only to come in once more. My cock nudged his prostate, rubbing his weakening gland until he did release himself into the mattress. Shimmering white splattered across the crisp linens to become a widening stain upon the bed. The musky odor of his spent seed thrilled me, enticing me to crash yet harder. The fox pushed back, his ass pressing into my pelvis. He twisted his hips, churning so seductively against my crimson spear. His shuddering body closed around me, stroking me as I pulled back with a sensual tilt of my hips. 
My belly lurched and I fell atop his back. His soft fur, like down against the coarse fur of my chest, rustled softly. I wrapped an arm around his barrel of a body, hugging his heavy belly tight so that his unborn lashed out in protest against my fingers. Still, I would cling to him as if he alone would prevent me from slipping forth into that giddy sea, lost forever upon those turbulent waves of ecstasy. I groaned, pushing farther, deeper. My other arm came around his shoulder, my hand cupping his delicate chin. Cradled in my hand, his head did turn, those sapphire eyes glinting in the waning light of our guttering candle. I had to claim him, those lips, mischievously turned into a slight grin, those sparkling eyes. I brought his face to my muzzle, his lips meeting my own. Our kiss sent an electric spark down my spine. My throbbing shaft plunged, piercing him to the core, locking my knot to his quivering ring. The fox grunted through the wet popping of our mouths, the sweet melody of our love filling the room with a haunting orchestra of feverish moans and the feral pig-like grunting of our lust. 
All reasoning had fled from my senses, for I had become nothing more than a beast of lurid sensation and carnal wants. I tore myself from his mouth, his tongue following, twisting in the air. My own tongue did slither between my jaws, twining around his. Saliva trickled from our mouths, shimmering down our chins to ooze across his back. His body had come alive in my hands, a white hot flame of such blissful delight. I grasped his belly, falling with Alistair in my arms to the bed. My other arm was hooked around his neck and I crushed him into the squealing mattress with all of my weight. A deep and soulful growl rose from my chest, my mind turning to the bestial need to sate my lust, to breed this wanting creature. Alistair murmured, his lilting, musical voice rising into a thin, keening cry as I penetrated his trembling gland. The fox cried out beneath me, the flutters of his unborn striking out, pummeling us both. His ass, like two white pillows, did cushion the blows which I rained down upon my gorgeous foe. 
“Ungh,” I groaned. “Alistair,” I whispered his name, letting the sound of it roll off my tongue. “I love you.”
The fox, his white face scarlet, moaned in a pitiful whimper, “Do not say that, Cormac. Not now.”
His body was like springsteel, growing tense in my claws. My lips spread across a sculpted shoulder, white as marble, the taste of his sweat and the faint scent of milk enticed me. I glided along his supple throat, finding the oasis of his collarbone. There, I filled that holy cup, the wine of my love overflowing, pouring down his matted fur. Alistair caught my arm in a feeble grasp, his hands shaking. I allowed him to rise, but only slightly. Enough so that my eager, questing fingers could play along the curve of his pregnant belly. I bit my lower lip, savoring the swell of bloated flesh, my stomach knotting with the ache to see such a creature growing heavier and rounder with the seed of my love. Truly, did I love this fox. The scent of his fur, the glint of his eyes. My hand fell to his hip, soft with maternal padding. I loved him as I would love no other, could love no other. I craved him. My lust grew with every passing moment, my sole desire to see him fattened with my offspring. Alistair turned on his side, one leg rising up to drape over my shoulder. The cunning vulpine had not yet surrendered.
Our battle commenced in earnest, my pace quickening which each glorious thrust until the bed did quake so that I feared that the frame would give out beneath us. Bah! Let it shatter, I say, for such would be the monument of our love. The old springs shrieked in torment, yet I would refuse their pleas. My pace grew ever faster, the wet, hard slap of our bodies sang out in chorus to the muffled cries of jubilation which bubbled up from the sweet mouth of Alistair. I was insatiable, I lifted him, hooking my arm under his knee so that the fox now rested on my lap. My hips churned, bucked and circled, drawing him deeper down into that darksome well of agonizing bliss. Faster, harder, sweat fell in glimmer droplets from my snout, dribbling down the soft white fur of my lover. 
“A-Ah,” he cried, for no other words were shared. 
I could no more reply than with a strangled groan from my crimson face. My balls could hold back no more. Growing fat and heavy with their fertile promise, I at last released. Our climax was not as one would expect from the tawdry tales spun in penny dreadfuls. There was no shrieking of one’s name, nor the hot explosion of emotion. There was simply a sigh, a long, peaceful escape. My seed flowed, pumping deep into the ever hungry womb of the fox. Alistair licked his lips, falling into my arms, his back to my chest. His body was so small, so fragile in my arms, that a tear did glint at the corner of my eye. I shuddered, another ropy strand splattering his rectum. Slender threads of white leaked from his battered flower, seeping into the scruff of my pubic fur. I pulled my softening member from his weeping bloom, laying him down upon the bed. I laid down beside him, taking the fox into my arms. His slender fingers spread themselves across my chest, his snout nuzzling into the hollow of my collarbone. 
“That was exquisite,” I heard him whisper. 
I met the gaze of those sapphire orbs, the longing within them swirling endlessly, beckoning me, drawing me into their fathomless depths like the song the siren. Heedless the danger, I would dash myself upon the jagged rocks like the sailors of old. I pressed my lips to his and sighed. 
“It was,” I replied. My hand came to rest upon his swollen belly, made bigger by the gushing ecstasy of my recent love. The life within him stirred beneath my fingers. “I have to ask you, Alistair,” said I, “how did you become this way?”
“This way?” the fox said with a giggle. “Why, Cormac, I do believe that we just gave a rather intense demonstration.”
If the fox had seen the way I blushed, he did not show it. Alistair’s hearty laugh was infectious and I found that I could not remain embarrassed for long. 
“No, I mean, how did you, as a male, come to be carrying a child?”
The corners of his eyes crinkled in mirth. “Perhaps I merely spent one too many nights in old inn rooms with a handsome coyote? Truthfully, dear Cormac, does it so concern you?” 
I became ashamed at the rather rudeness of my question. What business was it of mine concerning how the fox came to be with child. 
Alistair stopped laughing then, but his smile was no less broad, no less enticing. “My dear Cormac,” he said, running a slim hand along my face.  “No need to look so downtrodden. It is simply the peculiar way among white foxes. Did you not know that?” 
I should certainly say that I did not. My expression must have revealed my confusion, for the fox merely placed his fingers to his lips and then to my own. 
“Hush now,” he said. “For the night is fleeting and the dawn comes always too soon.”
“And then what?” I asked, for I feared the answer.
The smile faded from the lips of Alistair. The fox’s gaze turned from me then and he said, “Then, I shall be on my way and you yours.”
I seized him in my arms, not able to bear such words. “Alistair, no! I cannot! I will… I will follow you, wherever you may roam.”
The ears of the fox drooped and a shadow stole across his fine, albin features. “No, Cormac,” he said, placing a hand against my cheek. “You must not. I could not bear the thought of you following me like a lost child, Always crying, always searching. No, I could not bear it. You must go your own path, find your own happiness.”
Such words were too much for me. Tears flowed down my furry cheeks. “Alistair, I cannot leave you. Not after tonight.”
“Fate is fickle,” said the fox. “But, she often finds a way to reward us.” He turned back to me, his smile one of melancholic sweetness. “But, the night is not yet over, my dear one. We shall have this time. Let us not waste what was given to us.”
***
The rain had not abated, running down the window before me in thin sheets. I had left that inn, bound for the small town of Braxton, the fox, I know not where. Here I sit, alone, in this little room. The ceiling dripped with the steady thrum of chill rainwater leaking through the old shingles of the roof. The faint drip, drip, drip, my only companion on this miserable evening. Once more, I would turn to the blank page of my diary, the pen clutched in my shaking claws. I would bring the nib close, so close, hovering just above the creamy white. White as the fur of the fox I fell hopelessly in love with. I shook my head and set the pen aside. Alas, that I could not even so much as bring myself to write his name. 
“Alistair,” I said and let the very sound of his name hang in the still air. “Alistair, I wonder what became of you? Did you find another? Did you show him the pleasures you had shown me?”
Such abhorrent thoughts assaulted my brain and I pushed myself from the desk. Standing upright, my ears suddenly swiveled. 
“What is that?” I asked. “I hear someone outside the door.”
The knob turned, squeaking softly and I heard the creak of the hinges. 
“Damn that innkeeper,” I cursed. “The sneaky opossum must have booked another to this room.”
I spun around to face my intruder, ready to let him know what's for, when I was struck by a pair of eyes as blue as sapphires. 
“You!” I exclaimed.  
Below those laughing eyes, a ripe and mobile mouth, the lips black as jet and glistening wet and full, did curl into the sweetest of smiles. 
“Fate is fickle,” they said. “But, she often finds a way to reward us.”