[18+] Phillipe and his team are sled dogs from Canada participating in a culture demonstration in a northern land when he meets a stunning bagpiper from the northwest of Spain. Join them in warm tents and cold snow as they get to know each other.

Today’s story is the 1st of two parts of “Galician Sled” by Crimson Ruari, which will be read for you by the author himself.

Crimson writes software for a living and stories for fun. When not writing, he can often be found in the kitchen, the shop, or the dojo. He has short stories in Heat 14 and CLAW 1 and you can find more of his stories on his SoFurry page.

Read for you by the author himself.

This week's two-parter is an adult story for mature listeners.

If that's not your cup of tea,

or there are youngsters listening,

you can skip these and there'll be new stories for you next week.

week.You’re listening to The Voice of Dog.

I’m Khaki, your faithful fireside companion,

and Today’s story is the 1st of two parts of

“Galician Sled” by Crimson Ruari,

which will be read for you by the author himself.

Crimson writes software for a living

and stories for fun.

When not writing, he can often be found in the kitchen,

the shop, or the dojo.

He has short stories in Heat 14

and CLAW 1 and you can find more of his stories on his SoFurry page.

“Galician Sled”,

written and read for you

by Crimson Ruari.

The gathering tent was crowded.

Phillippe and the other eight dogs of his team didn't exactly have a lot of personal space between the other tables, and getting food and drink to the table was an adventure in itself.

They managed, though --

it was luxurious compared to wolfing down meat slop and frozen fish chunks out on the trail.

The group of huskies jostled their way past other tables to crowd in along one end of a long wooden bench with their drinks.

They'd been lucky:

the spot had a great view of the stage where a variety of acts were scheduled to perform late into the night.

A group of dogs on the stage were playing what looked like a couple of small taiko drums and some sort of box-bodied, long-necked instrument Phillippe didn't know the name of.

It sounded good. Different,

but good. Of course, that was the whole point of the gathering.

With the press of bodies, the tent was warm, and with his team's winter pelts grown in and their training underway, they'd opted for a minimalist look.

Really minimalist, in fact: they were all down to loin cloths.

The women on the team, all five of them,

wore light wraps over their breasts -- a concession to the aggressively mixed company,

much the same as their loin cloths were.

Left to their own devices, they all went around in the nude much of the time.

They were all northern dogs, and only in the coldest weather did they need more protection than their pelts provided.

Jane, one of their lead dogs, elbowed him in the ribs.

"Whatcha thinkin' about, Big D?"

She had a black patch of fur around one of her eyes and one ear had never perked, so she had a somewhat lopsided look that made everything she said

sound like trouble.

She was also a damned sharp leader:

intelligent, considered, and decisive.

He snorted. Phillippe was the driver, and as such, one the smallest dogs on the team, since

it was his job to keep the sled balanced as they ran, so he often wasn't contributing to moving the team forward.

He was also one of the most agile, though there wasn't a single dog on the team that wasn't light on their feat.

Even the wheel dogs, burly tanks that they were, could pretty much turn on a dime.

Had to, really, given that they were the ones who really pulled the sled through corners. Driving with novice wheels was a rough experience.

"Who says I'm thinking about anything?" He hid a grin behind a drink of his beer.

"'Cause you're always thinkin', D. It's your job.

job." She nudged him again, jostling him as he drank.

Jane was one of the more physical dogs on the team.

"I'm more than just my job, Jane," he replied with mock offense. He put a paw to his chest to emphasize the hurt.

"Sure, sure. But you don't stop thinkin' just 'cause you aren't on the clock." "Mmm,

I suppose not." He shrugged.

"Nothing much, really."

"Yeah? Looking for company?"

She patted his thigh under the table, making an offer of it.

Most teams he'd known had a sort of open family deal going, where anyone slept with anyone, sometimes all at once.

They were just so physical and so close and spent so much time in the nude, it just worked better to embrace it.

And each other. Phillippe had to admit there wasn't much like coming back from a drive and getting into a big, tangled pile with his team.

He shook his head, though. "Nah. Not tonight, I think.

think." She rubbed his thigh fondly, ruffling the fur.

It felt nice even if he wasn't in the mood.

"Well if you change your mind, a few of us are definitely planning to hook up back at the tent after a few more beers.

beers." He grinned and nosed at her cheek. "Thanks."

"So anything eating you?

You looked a little off at dinner.

dinner." He shrugged. "I don't think so?

Maybe just feeling a little restless.

restless." She waved a paw. "Here?

Isn't that sort of the point?"

Phillippe took another drink as he considered.

"I suppose it is. But it doesn't feel like that, you know?"

Jane shrugged, then squeezed his thigh again.

"Not really, D. But you ain' gotta talk about it if you don't want to, eh?" He grinned. "It's ok. I guess I'm still sorting it out. I'm feeling happy and content and agitated and in need of change all at once.

once." Jane gave a short bark of a laugh. "You sure do contain multitudes, Phillippe.

I think you got a few extra in there for the rest of us, too." She prodded him gently in the head, then rubbed one of his ears. Jane could needle you and let you know you were loved at the same time;

Phillippe thought it was one of the things that made her such a good leader -- you knew she was trying to help you get the best of yourself out there.

The musicians had stopped their music and packed up while he hadn't been paying attention, and he snorted in the silence.

"I'm not gonna argue there.

there." Another band came on stage:

a trio of cream-coated, pointy-eared dogs in colorful clothes, two carrying different sorts of drums and a slender-muzzled bitch

carrying a bagpipe that looked like it had too few drones.

Phillippe perked up. "Oh, what's this now?"

Jane chuckled. "The schedule said it was some Galician group.

group." She paused, thinking back.

Jane had that sort of memory, another factor that made her a great lead -- she could remember just about every trail report word for word on the spot. "Lessee, Corazón das montañas, Galicia, Spain,

gaita (bagpipes) and drums.

drums." She nodded at the end, a physical sort of end-of-recall marker.

The bitch on stage had inflated her pipes and let out a short,

sharp howl, and then the tent was filled with the high-pitched wail of pipes,

joined shortly by a snare drum and something deeper.

It filled the space and almost drowned out conversation, except for the most dedicated.

Phillippe found himself grinning, his tongue hanging out of his muzzle.

Jane patted his thigh sharply and chuckled.

"I think somebody's in love.

I see your paws tapping, champ, why don't you get up there and dance for her?"

Phillippe coughed. "What now?"

She snorted. "Oh come on. You love dancing, we've seen it. You're good!

Get up there." She leaned out past him and shouted down the table.

"Oi, Hella, think D here should get up and dance?"

Hella, the other lead dog, not infrequently or unfairly called "Hellbitch,"

leaned back and grinned widely, her eyes flashing. "Oh hell

yes. I wanna see our boy move!"

He sighed and stood, extracting himself from the bench.

"Ok, ok." He couldn't deny the music made him want to move. And it'd be good to dance. He hadn't

really needed much convincing.

Jane gave his rump a swat. "Good!

Go! Now me, I see some blacksmiths who look like they could use some company.

company." Phillippe grinned down at her.

"Think you can handle them?"

She snorted. "Hah! I'll be thrilled to find out I can't.

can't." Phillippe left her and slowly worked his way through the crowd toward the clear spot in front of the stage.

It had even been lifted off the floor a few inches and looked like it might be sprung.

That'd be a nice touch,

and easy on his knees later.

He could feel his team's eyes on him as he stepped out of the press onto the dance floor, and then he could feel everyone else's eyes find him, too.

He shrugged, it wasn't that much different than being with the team on a run, right?

The music was different, though. He caught the bagpiper eyeing him as she played, and he grinned at her, his tail giving a slow wag behind him. She grinned back around the mouthpiece. Phillippe found the beat with his paw, tapping it out on the floor, then sank his weight and let the music guide him. It ran hot and fast, pipes wailing an almost-frantic melody

with drums driving along beneath it.

Phillippe found himself spinning and stopping, unwinding, stomping out a staccato pattern to keep up.

The piece only lasted a handful of minutes, but it had him panting like he'd been sprinting.

The respite didn't last long, just a short, droning bridge between pieces, when the tempo picked up again.

This piece was more sedate,

and one of the drummers let his drum go silent and clapped his paws to accent the beat.

Phillippe joined in,

lifting his paws by his head and clapping his own paws as he danced, moving more slowly, swaying his hips and striking the floor on different beats.

The music had a latin flavor, but he'd never heard that mixed with bagpipes before.

It was compelling and it felt damned good to move to.

He found the piper grinning at him again, the mouthpiece caught lightly between her teeth, the dark wood contrasting with her white fur.

He grinned back and exaggerated the sway of his hips, countering the movement with his tail.

Her eyes flashed and she pushed the beat faster, daring him to keep up.

He did, and while the piece never made it to the pace of the first one,

she played with the rhythm and tempo to keep him on his toes, challenging him to follow her as though she was leading a dance.

The band played a few more pieces until their set was over, and Phillippe danced the whole time.

He kept pace, letting her lead him around the small dance floor, following her changes as she played,

meeting her challenges.

It was not so different from training with the team, reading their mood and when they decided to push him,

playing crack-the-whip around corners or taking him over a patch of jumble ice without warning.

They knew he could handle it, and, if pressed, he'd admit he enjoyed the jolt of adrenaline it supplied.

Dancing for the piper had let him play with that same ability to read someone else, and he'd loved it.

Phillippe figured he should say something.

She was just putting her pipes away, and she smiled at him. "Oh hey there! I saw you dancing;

I'm glad you enjoyed it.

it." He grinned back, and his tail swayed behind him. "I couldn't resist. Your playing was wonderful."

"And I quite enjoyed your dancing.

dancing." Her own tail gave a wag behind her, swishing over her wrap.

"I've never heard of Galicia before. Where in Spain is it?"

She grinned at him. "Hardly anyone has! We are the España's northwest corner ." The dog looked him over. "And you? Where do you come from that they wear so very little?"

Phillippe coughed. "Canada."

"I have seen Canadians, but rarely so much of them." "Weeellll, I'm a sled dog, and we run pretty hot, so the less clothing, the better.

better." She looked him over again.

"Just so." She stuck out a paw. "Call me Sabela.

It's a pleasure to meet you ...

..." He took her paw and squeezed.

Her grip was firm and controlled. "Phillippe."

"Phillippe. Lovely." She cocked her head and grinned.

"I'd love to hear more about scantily-clad Canadian Sled Dogs.

Care to take a walk?"

His tail wagged. No playing it cool for him.

Not that he wanted to.

"Very much so." "Bo." She turned, "Xoán, could you take my pipes back to the tent?"

The dog who must have been Xoán grinned at her, but nodded. "Sí, señora. You'll owe me."

"I certainly shall." She turned to Phillippe. "Shall we?"

They slipped out of the main tent before the next act got started, leaving the light and close warmth behind for the pitch blackness and crisp cold of the night.

The arch of the Milky Way stretched above them, and they stood for a moment, staring up at it.

"Fuck, I never get tired of seeing that," Phillippe remarked.

Sabela took advantage of his inattention to slip her paw into his, intertwining their fingers, and leaned against his arm.

Her fur was soft, and she was still warm from the tent. "Mm,

do you see it often?"

He stiffened briefly in surprise, then relaxed, leaning back into her just a little.

"Whenever we remember to look up.

Which, sometimes, you run a stretch, you make camp and eat and you pass out as quick as you can so you can get

as much sleep as you can on your break.

break." He grinned. "Once in a while, though, we can relax, or we'll just go out for a run and lay there and look up at the sky.

sky." Sabela nodded. "That sounds wonderful.

wonderful." He nodded at her. "It rivals this.

this." She snorted and nudged him in the hip with her free paw. "Flatterer.

But very smooth.

smooth." He grinned at her for a moment.

"Shall we take that walk?"

Sabela pulled her shawl higher up over her shoulders and then waved with her free paw.

"Yes, do lead on." They'd paused, and their conversation had fallen into a comfortable silence as they admired the night sky. Phillippe pointed out a constellation.

"See those stars?" Sabela followed his gesture.

"Ahhh, I see some stars, yes.

yes." He chuckled and gestured, tracing the shape of them.

"Those?" "Oh yes." She nodded.

He sighed. "They weren't out when we started, and they're about two hours into their night." Sabela

raised her eyebrows.

"That's quite a skill." Phillippe grinned at her. "Useful in our line of work;

we looked at the charts as part of training for this trip.

trip." He sighed. "It's getting late and I have to get some sleep before our demo tomorrow." Sabela stroked over his side, pulling her blunt claw tips through his fur.

"When is it?" "Eight.

If we go much later it'll be almost too warm.

warm." She shivered theatrically and pressed herself to his front.

"Too warm? How can that be?"

He chuckled and wrapped his arms around her. She felt entirely too good against his body.

"We are very warm dogs and we put out a lot of heat when we're working.

When it gets warmer than a few degrees below freezing, we're just dying if we try to keep anything like a decent pace.

pace." She shook her head and pressed herself close,

her paws roaming through the fur over his sides and back.

She felt very good against him, and he was sure she'd notice his body's reaction to that. "Ugh.

I'll be bundled up."

Phillippe rubbed a paw along her back, sneaking under one of her layers of wrap to brush her fur. "Doesn't this keep you warm?"

"Not that warm, no. And I'll just be standing around."

"Alas. You'll have to find some way to keep warm.

warm." He grinned and nipped lightly at the tip of her ear.

She snorted. "I have a coat. It'll have to do, since you'll be busy."

"A shame, I know, but duty calls.

calls." Sabela dragged her claws lightly over the small of his back, and Phillippe shuddered lightly in response.

"Hauling heavy things for an audience in the cold? Makes no sense at all to me!"

He grinned and nipped her ear again.

"Ah well. I suppose I can't be perfect.

perfect." She tipped her muzzle up to nip at his throat.

"And I suppose I can accept this flaw for now.

now." She huffed, blowing out her breath into his throat fur.

"I should probably sleep, too.

Walk me back?" He took a step back and gave a half-bow.

"But of course, m'lady.

m'lady." She jabbed his side. "You aren't wearing the right hat for that.

that." He snorted and offered his arm. "Well, actually..." He let it trail off. "I will leave you here!" She grumbled playfully, but took his arm and gestured with her free paw.

"This way." They walked together back through the tents, their light and warmth and noise spilling out through the flaps.

When they arrived at the one she indicated, Phillippe faced her again, resting his paws on her hips.

"When do you go on again?"

"Two nights from now, after dinner.

Tomorrow is for practice and seeing some of the event. Be a shame to miss it.

it." She grinned and brushed a paw through his belly fur.

"How long is your demo?"

"If the weather is kind, all day. We'll start at eight and run until five or so, then clean up and get dinner."

"And then you're free?"

He grinned. "Yeah. Care to get dinner? My treat.

treat." She snorted. "They're included you know.

know." The husky tipped his head up. "Hmph.

Here I'm trying to be nice and you shoot me down!"

Sabela snorted and slipped a paw up to the back of his head and pulled his muzzle down for a kiss.

It was warm, and long, and her tongue played gently at his lips.

He parted them and their tongues met. Eventually, far too soon in his mind, they parted.

"Dinner, be there." With that she patted his hip and then turned and disappeared into her tent. Phillippe

stood there, blinking and recovering his wits.

Once he'd found them, his ears perked up and his tail wagged. He grinned and stepped off to find his team's tent.

When he stepped through the flap, Hella greeted him with an observation that bright eyes and a wagging tail weren't the only signs he'd had a good time.

She patted the front of his loin cloth, and he realized he'd slipped quite a way out of his sheath.

He hadn't even noticed the cold.

"Had a good time,

eh?" She grinned and squeezed him through the cloth. "But not too good. This boy's still ready to go." He coughed. "Yeah, well. Y'know, sometimes you don't just jump in bed with someone.

someone." Hella nodded sagely.

"For one, no beds out there.

there." She grinned. "Did you want to do something about it, or just go to bed?"

Phillippe shrugged. "I think I'll just pass out. We have an early morning.

morning." She gave his rump a pat and waved him in.

"Fair enough. The rest of the team was just about winding down when I left.

Except for Jane, of course.

I'm not going to wait up for her."

Philippe grinned and shook his head.

"I don't know how she does it.

it." Hella shrugged. "Neither do I, but she's always fine in the morning.

morning." She ruffled his lower back.

"Well grab some shuteye, D, you're gonna be busy tomorrow."

This was the the first of two parts of “Galician Sled” by Crimson Ruari,,

read for you by the author himself. Tune

in next time for a sledding demonstration

and to find out how sled dogs keep warm in winter.

As always, you can find more stories on the web at thevoice.dog,

or find the show wherever you get your

podcasts. Thank you for listening

to The Voice of Dog.