It hadn’t been easy, and it had taken weeks of careful negotiations.
Hyfryd had been travelling back and forth between the royal palace and the fringes of the realm so often that he went through two pairs of boots, just in that comparably short time.


It was after it had become clear that he was working not for, but with the great polar bears, known everywhere as “The Vikings”, that Maximus, the king of the foxes, had reached out to him. Granted, the hand that had reached out had been the one of one of the royal guards’ tigers, a massive beast, strong enough to subdue even the stocky hyena, and the talking-to he had gotten while being held up against the wall of a building, paws hovering above the ground, hadn’t been what he had expected… 
The gist had been that the king would require his services. To serve as a go-between for him and Gunnarr, the king of the vikings. To negotiate, of all things, a meeting between the two royals.


Hyfryd simply refused to believe that this was not a ploy to trap the great bear, who had been ravaging the villages and towns along the coast of the realm for a while now, leaving a trail of devastation and despair behind, each village reduced to a crumpled mess - not unlike the corpses the vikings left behind, more often than not just a red smear in the center of a bear paws footprint. 
The hyena had expected Maximus to be foaming with anger, demanding blood and death in retaliation to the horrors committed by the vikings under Gunnars command, and it had taken a little show in the dungeons of the royal palace to convince Hyfryd that the king had, indeed, other ideas for the meeting. 
During that show, two prisoners had been killed - all condemned criminals, as was made clear - in a manner and way that nearly made Hyfryd wet his pants… in lust, not in fear. What kept the garment from being soiled was that, after the first prisoner, a weasel, had been broken underneath the flat feet of an elephant, his pants actually had been removed, by noone other than Maximus himself.
And during the second execution - some wolf being slowly fucked to death by a magnificent equine, who quite obviously enjoyed nothing more than to draw out his victim’s pain and torture as long as possible, Hyfryd had been most expertly sucked off by the very same tiger who had “invited” him only a couple of days before.


It still had been hard to convince Gunnarr, though, especially to convince him to provide adequate “insurance” for the King’s life. 
The bear had almost broken Hyfryd’s nose when he had explained that, Yes, the foxes wanted to talk, and No, they would not trust the viking further than they could throw him - and that in his, Hyfryd´s, opinion, they were absolutely right in their decision, considering the number of broken promises and deals that were on Gunnarr’s account.


But here they were. 
Standing in a dark forest, at a crossroads, where a small delegation of bears was meeting with a much larger one from the foxes, both parties armed to the teeth, and both quite capable of destroying each other. This was not the screaming multitude of smaller furres the bears usually simply caught and slaughtered, these were trained soldiers, many of them of the larger species, all of them stoic, calm and utterly prepared to maim and kill. With them, clad in hunter’s green and leather, was Maximus himself, looking regal and well-brushed in his outfit. And on the bear’s side… there was Leif, Gunnarr’s son. The bear was maybe half the size of the massive figures surrounding him, his paws and hand almost comically large compared to the rest of his body - giving him an almost unbearably cute demeanor, but hinting at a body that would most likely dwarf his father’s bulk once it was fully grown.


Without too many words, but a lot of wary looks and nervous glances, the fox and the adolescent bear met in the free space between the two war parties, nodded at each other - and then proceeded to cross the gap. Only when Maximus was surrounded by vikings, and Leif surrounded by the royal guards, everyone seemed to relax.
“Hrm…. So, we meet again just before sunrise, here,” Hyfryd spoke after clearing his throat.
On both sides heads nodded. 
“If you touch one single hair on Leif….”, the captain of the war band of bears, a grizzled and scarred veteran growled, and was answered by an equally aggressive hiss from the tiger, who had command over the royal guards. “If you even think about harming our king…”


“PLEASE!”, Hyfryd shouted, and stepped between the two aggressive males, “Please stay calm, we’ve been over this…. Oh, I don’t know HOW many times exactly. No One will harm anyone, because they would only harm themselves - right? Right. Now, let’s get going.”




 About half an hour later, the small group entered a clearing. Hyfryd leading the way, followed by the bears, and in their midst, Maximus. Tents cluttered the wide circle of grass, several fires gave light and warmth, and more bears were trotting around, apparently busy with housekeeping - some were carrying large buckets of water, while others took care of firewood. Over the largest fire in the middle of the camp, the bodies of two wild boar were rotating on a spit, sizzling and roasting in the heat, filling the air with the delicious smell of meat. 
It was there Maximus was lead, towards this fire, and towards the tent that dominated the center of the camp - bigger than the others, and certainly more luxurious. 
Eyes followed the fox and his escort, many of them curious, but several pairs were filled with unconcealed hatred. Murmurs rose along the path the small group took, vikings stretching their necks to catch a glimpse of the green-clad fox, tiny and fragile compared to the bulk of the bears, and then lowered again to whisper into ears. Here and there, even a giggle came up, only to be shushed immediately.


The inside of the tent was well-lit. Several oil lamps provided a warm and friendly glow, illuminating the carpeted floor as well as the table and chairs that sat in the center of the tent. One of the chairs, massive and broad, was filled with an equally built bear, the other one, higher and lighter in construction, was empty. 
“Maximus, I presume?”, the bear growled, pushing himself up from his seat, the wood of the floor creaking in protest as the massive male planted his feet. He was clothed in a thick fur cloak, held together with a bronze clasp just beneath his neck, and, as far as maximus could see, nothing else but a loincloth underneath.
“Gunnarr,” the fox said pleasantly, took a couple of quick steps forward, and inclined his head just enough to acknowledge the rank of the bear as a fellow king.
“So you really came.” The nod from the bear was the same as the one the fox had performed, and was followed by a gentle shake in wonderment.
“I must say I didn’t believe what the hyena was telling me… or that you would have the actual balls to show up.”
“Nonsense,” replied Maximus with a toothy grin. “My men have something of yours, don’t forget that. And of course… should I not return… it would mean outright war between our peoples.” 
Gunnarr blinked. 
“Are we not at war yet?”, the viking grinned, “I would think that you should at least think so. Because …..” He made a gesture that could mean all or nothing. 
“But. Let’s sit. Hyfryd! Get me something to drink. And get the fox something as well, hear me?”
While the hyena went to get goblets and meade, both leaders sat down at the table, the chairs just different enough to bring them almost to the same level.
“So. Now tell me why you wanted this meeting. Hyfryd said you wanted to talk - so talk. I am listening.” Gunnar took a sip of the sweet, rich liquid, his wide tongue slipping over black lips, catching an errant drop.


“Well….” Maximus began, and took a mouthful of meade as well.
“It has come to my attention that you and your band of bears are raiding my realm,” Maximus said lightly, as if talking about the weather. “Reports of destroyed towns and villages… looted barns and stables… hundreds of killed citizens.”


“Yes.” Gunnarr nodded.


“I’ve also heard that you’re exceptionally cruel and sadistic when it comes to dealing with prisoners.”


“Yes,” Gunnarr nodded again. “What can I say. It’s fun.” There was a twinkle in his eyes, and he yawned, demonstrating how little he cared.


“I want to see that.”


“You are not… What?”  The bear stopped mid-yawn, hand half off the table, eyes blinking.


“I want to see what you do with my people. I heard you crush them underfoot, I heard you impale them on your shafts, I’ve heard stories….”
Maximus took another drink, then leaned back in the chair, grinning at Gunnarr. “I want to watch. Every time I read the reports, I can’t help but to think, Damn! What a picture that must be, those bears just walking over a weasel, or a fox, breaking every bone in their bodies.”
Maximus leaned forward again, over the table this time, his stage-whisper loud and clear. “It makes me horny.”


Again, Gunnarr blinked. Long seconds, he looked at the grinning fox, and to bridge the silence, he emptied his goblet, wiping his muzzle with the back of his paw. 
Maybe, he thought, this fox isn’t half bad… maybe, we’re up to something here.
“Soo…. you want to watch. What do we get for that?”


“Easy.” The fox was grinning far enough to expose his back teeth now. “You just go on. Go down the coast. I’m going to give you a list of towns and villages you can do with whatever you want. No army. No retaliation. Go there, raid, rape, kill, don’t leave anyone alive. Just have fun as much as you want.”




A paw rose to scratch through white fur, the claws making a deep and rough noise on the tough skin underneath.
“You want us to kill your people? And you want to watch us doing it? Just so I get this right, you’re not here to beg us to stop and leave, but to encourage us to go on? Why??”


“Yep, that’s right. You and your folk are a godsend. These towns along the coast are notoriously bad in paying taxes. The smuggling that’s going on there is outrageous. At the same time, none of the ships go up the rivers to the bigger cities, they all stop at the first convenient place… and so these coastal cities have cost me thousands and thousands in fees and missed taxes. I want them gone, all of them, but I can’t do it myself - If I send my army against my own people, I’d have a riot on my hands. This way, however….”
Again, the fox leaned back, held up a hand, and began counting down on his claws as he kept talking.
“First, I get rid of the idiots who think they can betray me. Second, I can raise more taxes to build up the army, to repel the invading vikings. Third, no one will lean up against my rule in the face of the viking threat. And fourth, I get to watch something I have been dreaming about for quite some time now…..”


Gunnarr stared at the fox, shaking his head once more. A slow smile was spreading on his lips, everything the fox said made sense… and it wasn’t like the viking was actually keen on fighting an army. Peasants and city guards were easy prey to him and his warriors, but an army, several thousand strong, was certainly enough to cause him grief. And no one actually wants to lose half of his troops if he can avoid it.
“I can see how all of this makes sense to you,” grumbled Gunnarr, “But what happens when we’re done with the list? Do you really think you can stop us if we want to go on?”


“Yes,” Maximus nodded. “I think I can, but I really, really do not want to. I’d lose fighters, lots of them, and I can use them much better on my borders… maybe move them a bit, you see? You get to keep everything you loot from those cities I give to you. Your ships will be sitting so deep in the water your bears will be busy pumping water the whole way back.”


Gunnarr - laughed. 
“You are one sly fox, you know that?” He slammed his fist onto the table, making the goblets jump up and fall over. “Hyfryd! More Mead!!”, he shouted, then steepled his meaty paws onto each other, and bent forward, his muzzle suddenly very close to the foxes.
“I don’t care about your politics,” growled the bear, “I’m not interested in what stories you twist and whom you tell them to. We will do what we want, and you won’t stop us. But if you DO keep your army where it is… and if we’re done with your coast… we will leave. Maybe we will come back, later. But… we will leave when we’re done. And… you said you want to watch? You, little foxy, want to see what happens when a real male has some fun? Are you sure you can stomach that, little king?”
He leant back, allowing hyfryd to refill the goblets, and then nodded at the hyena. “Go and get me a weasel. A small one. And… that fox. What was its name… marc? Marcus? Thomas? You know - the one that was left over… “


There was a glint in Gunnarr´s eyes, and a certain smirk on his lips as he watched the fox in silence, occasionally taking a sip of mead, his free hand resting on the table. It took no more than a minute until three figures entered the tent. Hyfryd was carrying a ferret over his shoulder, the small, sleek fur bound tightly around wrists and ankles, his short muzzle wrapped shut with a strip of cloth. He was also accompanied by a naked fox, the red fur matted with dark stains and clotted liquids, his tail dragging behind him like a wet piece of rope..
“Ah….” gunnarr roared, “There you are.” 
At the sound of the bear's voice, the dirty fox lifted his nose slightly, his eyes staring at the bear, the expression behind them empty like a great, big void. No muscle on his face moved as the fox dropped to his knees and began crawling forward as if controlled by a set of strings in the hands of a puppet master. 
Gunnarr, on the other hand, had pushed his chair back a good distance, now sitting in the middle of the free room besides the table, and had, with a quick movement of his hand, unclasped his cloak, throwing the luxurious fur carelessly to the floor. Legs spread, he smiled at the crawling fox, his loincloth beginning to twitch and bulge.
“Such a good little slave, hmmmrr? Knows exactly what to do… that's right… Hold it! Don’t forget it…”


Thomas had crawled towards the sitting bear on all fours, with slow, halting motions, and was just about to enter the V of the spread thighs when the the command hit him like a whip. A tiny shudder seemed to run through the lanky body, then, with an unheard sigh, he lowered his muzzle. A pink tongue slipped out, wrapped around the bear’s claws, deftly diving deeply into the space between, caressing and cleaning each claw and toe with practiced, almost elegant movments.
“Thaaat’s right…..” Gunnarr almost purred, rocking his paws back on his heels to expose the broad, rough pads underneath.
“Thaaaat’s right…. You do know who your master is….” 
While the enslaved fox was busy running his tongue over the expanse of Gunnarr’s feet, Hyfryd had begun unwrapping the ferret, unleashing hands and feet, but was stopped with a gesture from Gunnarr before he could untie the small furred muzzle. Holding the twisting and twitching ferret by the neck, Hyfryd patiently watched the worship going on before his eyes, his free hand occasionally diving down into his pants, unashamedly adjusting his own, swelling malehood.
Gunnarr, on the other hand, needed to do no such thing. His loincloth was not substantial enough to hide anything, and was just pushed aside  by the pillar of flesh that grew between the bear’s thighs, swelling larger and harder until it rose up like a tree trunk, glistening black in the soft light of the oil lamps, massive like the foxes lower leg, and longer than his forearm.
The foreskin was peeling back to reveal a rounded, fleshy knob, the slit gaping open just a bit, just enough to release a small stream of clear, oily liquid that ran down the veiny underside and collected in the small groove between the shaft and the massive, orange-sized balls.
“Good foxy,” Gunnarr purred, and gave Thomas what must count as a gentle kick for the bear, almost causing the fox to fall onto his side. Yet, there was no sound of pain from the slave, just a gasp for air, and the scuffling of paws on carpet as Thomas tried to regain his balance. 
“Get here, and lick.” 
The command was clear, and the fox didn’t hesitate one second. With a quick shuffle forward, he entered between the bear’s thighs, and jammed his muzzle underneath Gunnarr’s balls.
Again, that narrow tongue slipped out, and this time, it began to remove the drops of lust that had rolled down from further above, cleaning and massaging those massive balls with deft and decisive licks. 


Maximus just sat and watched. Despite his self-assured manner, he hadn’t been completely sure he would actually be able to convince the bear to see the logic behind his offer. But now… ? It looked like he would get the first payment right away, and with a nervous lick across his lips, he sat upright, his ears erect and pointed towards the little show that was beginning to unfold in front of his eyes. 
When Gunnarr’s shaft began to appear, the king swallowed. It wasn’t the biggest one he had seen so far, but the contrast of the pitch black skin against the white fur made it stand out, an exclamation mark of maleness - now being serviced by a fox - a totally broken and subservient fox, no less. Maybe it was the blatant display of what Gunnarr could do to a member of his own species, maybe it was the ferret, that now was watching the shaft as well with a horror-filled fixation, but Maximus’ pants were getting tight. Very, very tight.


“Hyfryd,” mureed the bear, and extended an arm. The ferret was quickly passed on from hyena to viking, and the small male almost vanished completely as Gunnarr brought him close to his chest, both arms holding the ferret close. The only parts that remained visible were the head and the lower legs, kicking ineffectively at the thick fur of the polar bear, too small claws unable to penetrate to the skin beneath. Slowly, Gunnarr’s hands encircled the tube-like body of the mustelid, slipping down to hold him just above the hips, the bear’s thumbs hooking between and under the ferret’s thighs, spreading them, opening them like a book, and holding them in a position that must be painful, even for a species which is as flexible as ferrets are. Yet, no sound escaped the tightly bound muzzle. The only things that could be heard were the constant, wet sound of the fox's tongue playing on Gunnarr’s balls and the very root of his shaft, and the high-pitched breath of the ferret, whistling through tiny, almost closed nostrils.
Gunnarr turned his head slightly to look at Maximus, and the grin on his muzzle had nothing to do with friendliness. He kept his eyes locked with those of the fox king, and then slowly, almost gently lowered the ferret onto his cock. It took a few seconds for the viking to position his victim just right, the fat tip lodged between the ferret’s legs, but the very moment Gunnarr sensed naked skin touching his malehood instead of fur, he knew he had hit his target at last. 
Slowly, oh so slowly, he began to push down. This was the moment he liked most, entering a totally unused backside, stretching a ring to its maximum… and then beyond. 
The ferret also knew what was coming the moment he felt he hard and unyielding pole of a bearcock under his tail, and redoubled his efforts to claw and scratch at his captor, but just like before, it had no effect at all… and it all came to a stop when the pressure around his hips grew… and a second later, the pressure under his tail became unbearable.


Maximus’ eyes went wide as he watched. It looked…. Effortless, easy even, the bear pulling the ferret down, and made the head of his shaft… disappear. In the almost absolute silence of the tent, maximus even could hear the flesh ripping as the ferret tore, the strength of the bear’s arms combined with size and hardness of his shaft leaving no chance for the ferret’s flesh.
A stream of red immediately began to run down Gunnar’s shaft, replacing the trickle of pre. Thomas didn’t even twitch an ear when the taste on his tongue switched from lusty bear to torn ferret, his tongue getting even quicker, catching each drop before it had the chance to fall onto the floor and soil the carpet. 


“Hurrrr…. Yeeah….” rumbled the bear, planted his feet closer to his chair, and bucked his hips, pulling the ferret down at the same time. With that one, sharp thrust, half of his length vanished into the body of the mustelid, straightening the writhing, bendy shape into a straight line.
A shudder went through the victim's body, his muscles tightening in a cramp that seemed to originate between his legs, but spread out to his limbs, making his toes and fingers spread and curl at the same time, the bear’s cock having filled a virgin tunnel to the brim. 
 “Yeeeah… That’s just what I needed now,” growled Gunnar, his eyes still on Maximus. “He’s still alive, you know… just opened him a little. Flexible little fuckers, ferrets… stretchy… A bit like fucking a sock, you know?”
He casually began to lift and lower his toy, his shaft entering the body above with squelching, wet noises, and withdrawing with an almost fart-like sucking.
“If I let him go now…. He’ll live, but.. He’s ruined… wrecked…. It’s a pity, really. When I fuck a fox, though…..” 
Gunnar’s grin went wider, and he licked over his fangs. “I’ve had foxes… they came back for more, after a few days only… wanted me to take them again… and again…. Horny creatures, foxes, right?”
He winked. “Go on. Take it out. You said this stuff made you horny. Show me… “


Maximus couldn’t wrench his eyes from the spot where the now blood-slick spire of the bear moved in and out of the ferret’s body like a well-oiled machine. His own shaft was painfully hard, pulsing and knocking against the prison of his pants, the green fabric hard and ungiving. Gunnarr’s words hit his ears, and didn’t even make it to his conscious mind, they went straight to his hands, and forced them to undo his belt, then the buttons, and then…
Maximus moaned as his cock sprang free, and slapped against his belly, hard like iron, and hot like lava. He was wet, the fur of his sheath drenched to the point of flatness, and his knot was already fully grown, bulging to the sides of his shaft. Without thinking, he began rubbing himself, his hand moving in perfect sync with the bear’s lazy movements.


“Oh yeah, really horny…,” Gunnar chuckled. The fox hadn’t lied, he really was … interested. Hell no, he was… just into the same things, but unfortunately… too small to do anything about it by himself.
“Watch.” The word was rough and commanding, and Gunnar didn’t need to repeat himself. Maximus was watching with rapt attention anyway, but now he was fixated. 
Gunnar pushed the ferret down one last time, then let go of the mustelid, leaving him twisting and turning atop his shaft, like a worm just pushed onto the fishing hook as bait. He moved his hands up to the ferrets shoulders, and with a firm grip, turned the whole body around, now presenting the face, but more importantly, the belly of the mustelid to the watching king. A bulge was already visible, stretching from the ferrets insignificant sheath to just above his bellybutton, but now, as Gunnarr began to push down on the ferret’s shoulders, it began to travel. Millimeter by millimeter the bulge lengthened, stretching upwards, creeping towards the narrow ribcage with the slowness of a slug on a dry road. Immediately, the ferret began to flail. Gunnarr was now going deeper than it should be possible, and inside of the poor guy, tissue and membranes were stretching and straightening in ways that never meant to be, causing unbearable, mind-breaking pain. But it was nothing compared to what happened when the bulge finally reached the ribcage… and simply didn’t stop. Gunnar simply kept pushing, and his shaft simply kept disappearing… and that meant, now, the ferret started dying. 
The sounds of tearing flesh and ripping organs was loud enough to be heard all the way to the tent’s flap, where Hyfryd stood, now also pantless, and masturbating with a wide grin on his lips. 
It was almost deafening for Maximus. His focus totally on what Gunnarr was doing, he heard every tear, every small rip, and every single creak and groan of muscle and bone. It almost sounded like a cooling oven to him, the tink-tink-tink of stressed materials moving, when the ferret came further down and down, the broad base of Gunnarr’s cock wide enough to force the mustelids pelvis apart, the bone breaking in increments, bit by bit by bit, until nothing was left to break. The wetness of the impact was like a wave of relief crashing over Maximus, and with it came his own release, his shaft twitching and bouncing, the first shot of his cum arcing wide through the air, splattering into the fur of the fox who was still kneeling between Gunnarr’s legs, still licking up the ferret’s juices as fast as they ran down.


“He’s broken now,” stated Gunnarr, again slowly moving the ferret’s body, remainders of life making it twitch and spasm. “Just a cocksock now… warm, nice, and wet. And you…. Wouldn’t you like to change places with your friend down there, worshipping my balls… licking at what my cock squeezed from this piece of shit?”


Maximus felt himself nod, his legs twitching as if to get up.


“Careful what you wish for,” growled Gunnar, and began to close his legs.
Thomas noticed it too late. He only blinked when the massive white thighs touched his shoulders, and then his head - but then, it was too late. Within half a second, he was stuck, held in place by the bulging muscles of the bear’s thighs, unyielding like rocks under a fur carpet.
“He ….” murred the bear, “Is worthless, too…” 
Harder and faster the ferret moved, now driven by both of the bears hands, exposing and swallowing the lower half of the ursine length. 
At the same time, Gunnarr’s paws found Thomas’ feet, gently stepping onto them, pinning them to the ground. Thomas, on the other hand, was now trying to actually escape, his hands pushing against the bear, his body pulling back, trying to wrestle his head from the press of the white-furred legs.
“Hrrrrrr….” Gunnarr moaned, muscles working under his fur. He was getting close, very close, and… 
He looked at Maximus again, who was staring back, muzzle agape, hand still wrapped around his pulsing shaft. The fox was still hard, still cumming, in short, weak bursts, the milky liquid dripping from his balls into his lowered pants and onto the fine leather of his boots. 
The picture was what finally got him. With a loud moan, he slammed the ferret down one last time and held him there. He tensed his muscles, one by one, first his arms, his fingers digging deep into flesh and bone, crushing the ferret’s pelvis around the base of his shaft, then… his legs. He felt Thomas’ feet pop under his own paws like crackers, first the left, then the right, and wetness began to spread between his toes. Then… 
Thomas felt the pressure on his head grow suddenly, the bear’s fur no longer soft, and the muscles… became hard like wood. And they were closing in on him. All he could do was shriek, yip like a kit before his world imploded in a red haze.


Maximus could see it happening, massive muscles bulging under the bear’s fur as he closed his thighs, the movement stopping for barely the blink of an eye.. And then, the explosion of red and grey between them, where just before had been the head of a fellow fox, and now was nothing, nothing but paste, little shards of bone, and blood, so much blood. He barely noticed the body of Thomas falling to the floor, reflexes making it move where life could not anymore, and the pink foam spurting from the ferret's nose - he came again, this time so hard his vision faded, gold and red clouds drawing over his field of vision.




Calmness descended onto the tent, the only sound remaining was the slow dripping of gore and liquid from the mustelids spent body, and the formerly white fur of the bears thighs. A rather large puddle had formed on the carpet, the expensive looking floor covering ruined for sure, a fact that didn’t seem to phase Gunnarr the slightest.
The bear just sat there, grinning and basking in the afterglow of his climax, watching the panting and nearly fainting fox with a mixture of fondness and … triumph? Maybe it was that, Maximus was unable to even guess what the bear was thinking right now.
“So…. how did you like the first taste of what we can show you, fox?”, Gunnarr rumbled, opening his legs to finally let the remains of Thomas fall to the ground.




“I…. I…. I don’t know what to say,” stammered the king, desperately trying to catch his breath, and to regain his composure. 
“This was… a most impressive display for sure,” he finally got out, sitting back up and belatedly remembering that his pants were pooled around his ankles, soaking up the juices that Gunnarr’s decadence had produced.
“Impressive…?” Gunnarr looked at the fox, then began to laugh. A chuckle at first, growing to a full, roaring belly-laugh, loud enough to shake the fabric walls of the tent.
“I’ll show you something impressive, foxy-king, next time. Twenty of my warriors, one hundred of your kin, half an hour of time… We’re going to paint the town red, red with their own blood, foxy…”


Maximus swallowed hard. He now could imagine much, much better what a bear could do, the though of twenty of them going on a rampage…. He shivered.
“I… see what you mean,” he said, licking his lips. “So… We do have a deal? When do you think…. You will be ready to … put on the next show?”


“Yeah….” 
For a moment, the viking looked wistful, but it was over in just the blink of an eye. “Yeah, we got a deal. Take Hyfee with you, when you go. He’s doing good as a messenger… doesn’t stand out too much among you red pelts. But keep him happy. He’s gonna be your guest, so fucking make sure he’s got enough fun.”


“Of course…. “ 
Maximus had a pretty good idea what kind of fun the viking was talking about, the hyena was an imposing figure in his own right… and Maximus had speculated if Hyfryd might enjoy doing some service to the crown, down in the dungeon, where many a criminal had screamed out his last breath  


“So then. Get going. I want my son back, and I don’t want your tiger to get nervous… and think you maybe went under my paws.” 
The viking grinned, and roared for his guards. A few words were exchanged, and Maximus found himself more carried than escorted, out of the tent, and through the camp.
He barely had time to pull up and close his trousers when he found himself under the dark sky, the fires have burned down to embers, basking the camp in an eerie, dark glow. Sounds came from behind other tents, muffled moans and cries, and maximus could barely make out the silhouette of two bears, their legs pumping in rhythmic motions, each step down followed by a wet, sticky crunch. 
As fast as the moment came, as fast it was gone again, the forest having swallowed the image and the sounds. 
“Soooo….”, Hyfryd drawled, strolling alongside the gruff pack of six bears that were centered around Maximus, “Did you get what you came here for? Gunnarr said you were to take me with you… and be your guest for a while?”


“Yes…..” murmured Maximus, “I got what I came here for. And yes… you will come with me, and live as my guest, as long as it is needed. You will be welcome at my court… and you will be entertained.” 
At that, the hyenas ears perked up, and he looked hard at the fox , searching his face for signs that he understood what he believed to understand. His gaze met bright, sparkling eyes and a grin that showed the barest hint of teeth, coming from the fox.
“Yes,” Maximus said simply, which in turn caused a similar grin to appear on the hyena’s muzzle, the much larger fangs stark white in the dim moonlight.


Swapping the two hostages back against each other was a much more relaxed affair than the first exchange. Something… had changed in the behaviour of the guards, on both sides. The bears, while still gruff and suspicious, had seen Maximus walk into the tent of their leader, and come back out, entirely unharmed. And the guards that Maximus had tasked with taking care of Leif? They all looked a bit… sticky. Here and there, fur was matted to spiky patches, small, dark stains stuck to muzzles and fingers… and all of them were, if not grinning, then at least smiling broadly.
But it was the youngling bear himself who was the worst for the wear. He was positively covered - and on his white fur, it was obvious what the offending substances were. Chocolate, honey, icing and sugar was sticking to the bear like he positively had rolled in it, and Maximus even thought to detect a slight waddle in Leif’s steps. They couldn’t have thought of anything else  but food when they planned on how to take care of the bear, and to demonstrate their friendliness and non-aggression towards their hostage. Apparently, it had worked, because after a short exchange of words with the guards, they waved in an almost friendly manner before vanishing into the forest.


“That… went well,” mued Hyfryd well during the trip back towards the inn where the party had set up for the night under disguise, “Here…. This one’s for you.” 
Taking the small bundle, Maximus looked quizzically at Hyfryd, but the hyena just shrugged. Contained within the wrapping was a ring - not made from delicately spun gold, as the foxes would typically make them, but made from wrought iron, massive and heavy.. And yet, worn smooth and silken with use. Almost reflexively, Maximus slid it over his hand, to find it fit comfortably around his wrist and lower arm.
“What … is this?”, he wondered, more to himself than to his companion.
“It’s a ring, fox,”, Hyfryd grinned. “It’s one of Gunnarr’s. You’re to wear it to make sure one of his warriors doesn’t accidently mistake you for a cocksock, or a paw cleaner.” Again, teeth shimmered in moonlight.
“One of Gunnarr’s rings…? But it fits me - and large as he is, he couldn’t wear this on his fingers…..”
More teeth showed as the hyena broke out in a full, open-muzzled grin now. “It’s one of his cockrings, stupid fox,” Hyfryd laughed, “He reckons that if you wear that, no one will dare to touch you… since you’re now his.”
And with that, the bulky male strode off, sidling up to Darwin, one of the guard’s stallions, striking up a conversation that soon seemed to become rather friendly, both furs laughing and slapping each other’s backs.
Which left behind a wondering and quiet Maximus, who couldn’t help but to touch that ring again and again, as it slid over his fur, massive and solid, and a physical reminder on how large the bear really was.






The End