In a world of fantasy a weary warrior must find the courage to make the most difficult decision of all…

You’re listening to The Voice of Dog.  I’m Khaki, your faithful fireside companion, and Today’s story is “If Only for a Night…” by Bering, who can usually be found with a book in her hand, she can be found at FurAffinity under the same username, showing both stories and commissioned artwork in her gallery. A long time Science-Fiction fan this is her first foray into Fantasy, but will most likely not be the last.

You’re listening to The Voice of Dog.

I’m Khaki, your faithful fireside companion,

and Today’s story is

“If Only for a Night…”

by Bering, who can usually be found with a book in her hand,

she can be found at FurAffinity under the same username,

showing both stories and commissioned artwork in her gallery.

A long time Science-Fiction fan

this is her first foray into Fantasy, but will

most likely not be the last.

Please enjoy “If Only for a Night…”

by Bering It was dusk after a long autumn day,

in the forest clearing Corrigan sat relaxed with his back against a tree,

a campfire burning before him.

His friend Alana lay with her head resting against his thigh,

absently he ran his fingers through her soft fur.

“That feels nice…”, she murmured drowsily.

He smiled fondly at her,

they had been travelling companions for almost a year,

an odd pair, Human and Kitsune.

Humans were almost everywhere in this land,

the dominant race, and Kitsunes, while not exactly rare,

were far from a common sight.

They received some curious looks,

but people were generally too polite to comment.

They had grown close,

at ease in each other’s company.

She muttered something as he shifted slightly,

trying to find a more comfortable position from his accumulated aches and pains.

He was a sell-sword,

a mercenary. Once he had fought in the army of his King,

but that time was long ago

and very far away.

He had lost count of his injuries

and as he had gotten older

he knew he was slowing,

reactions not as sharp as they had been,

his body less quick to recover.

In truth he had lost the taste for it and wished to put his sword away, but it was all he had known.

He was far from an old man, yet sometimes he felt it.

At the thought his attention returned to her,

he was uncertain how old she was but she was certainly younger than he.

In appearance she looked like nothing so much as an everyday fox,

though markedly larger,

when standing her shoulders came up to his knee,

and he was not a small man.

She had pale blue vulpine eyes

and fur of the purest white,

apart from a patch of black on her rear left leg.

He had once told her

that was where the gods had gripped as she was dipped into the vat of whitened snow during her creation.

She had not been amused,

which in itself he found amusing.

The only real difference from an ordinary fox

was an untidy mane

of human-like hair and the small thumbs on her front paws.

She was awkward using them,

being not nearly as dextrous as human hands,

and didn’t like it when he watched.

She had an unusual accent and her voice was high and sweet,

she spoke with a feminine growl though due to her muzzle had trouble pronouncing certain words.

He liked to tease her about it.

Well he couldn’t speak Kitsune could he?

It was a fair point, though it made him wonder,

did the name of her people or that of their language come first?

He had once asked her

why she had only a single tail,

she had batted him playfully and laughed,

explained that the multiple tails thing was a myth, or at least symbolic.

She had enough trouble keeping a single tail clean,

never mind many of them.

He had never seen her without her cloak and other adornments;

she seemed somewhat self conscious about her body

and always changed clothing away from his sight.

But he had once caught her watching as he washed in an open rock pool.

She had darted away as he turned

and neither had mentioned it to the other,

pretending they were not aware.

She seemed reluctant to talk about her past

but was curious about his.

Once early in their friendship

he had noticed her looking at his sword as he sat oiling it.

Had he used it? Yes, he had used it.

He knew she would have liked to ask more but had sensed she should not press the issue.

Yes he had used it,

more times than he liked to recall.

She was young, trying to appear more mature and worldly than she actually was.

He suspected it was her first journey away from home

and sensed she was a little overwhelmed and uncertain,

which was perhaps

why she had attached herself to him.

Not that he minded,

it was nice to have a travelling companion.

And one so fascinated by the world.

She displayed an open curiosity,

such that he wished

he could see through her eyes,

experience life afresh.

Sometimes she asked the strangest questions.

Last winter on a hard frozen night

they had huddled together in a camp

much like this one.

She had been watching the skies in wonder,

asked why the stars twinkled so.

He had not liked to appear ignorant

and so had made up a reason,

one she had seemed to accept.

But it had bothered him that he had lied to her

and he had sought out a learned man for the correct explanation.

He had told her the truth

and she had seemed pleased.

He was glad, yet wondered

why that was so important to him.

In recent days though

she had seemed quiet and thoughtful,

he was not sure he understood why.

They had been walking along a country lane

when she had suddenly turned to him;

Was he married? No,

he was not married.

Had he ever lain with a woman?

Not for a long time.

He had been surprised by her questions,

had answered before he intended.

It seemed she was going to ask something further,

but she had lapsed back into silence.

She had not brought the matter up again.

He noticed that the fire was nearly out,

burned down to glowing cinders.

He made to rise but she stopped him, a strange look in her eyes.

“Corr…are we friends?”

“Of course we’re friends”,

he answered with a laugh

and went to rise again,

she held him, more firmly this time.

“I mean, are we friends?”

He lay back, unsure where this was going,

“Well certainly we are…”

She rose to her feet,

held his gaze with a strange intensity,

then moved towards him,

stepped carefully onto his body.

Slowly she unhooked his shirt,

spread it wide, stood with small paws on his bare chest.

He made to speak but she shook her head,

then removed her cloak,

dropped it aside.

She shivered as she looked into his eyes, with an uncertain smile.

He had never seen her naked before,

was shocked at how

animal-like she truly was.

“Alana…”, again she stopped him,

nuzzled him gently,

whiskers brushing his new day growth of beard.

She reached lower,

fumbling for his trousers,

he felt himself growing tumescent.

“Alana, don’t…don’t Alana!”,

he pushed her off and she fell heavily.

She raised herself as she lay awkwardly on her side,

face twisted with anguish.

“Alana, I’m sorry…”,

he got to his knees and reached for her,

but she backed away, shaking her head.

He gathered her up,

pulled her towards him, held her tightly

and leaned back again against the tree.

Her small form shook as she wept,

“It’s not fair! It’s not fair!

Why can’t we be together?”

Her sobs had slowly subsided

as she had fallen into an exhausted sleep,

he lay awake for a long time after…

Things were not same in the following days,

she was quiet and subdued,

speaking only in monosyllables,

dull and listless,

walking with her head down.

A distance had grown between them

that had never been there before.

He told her that he had a task to do in a local town,

this was not their planned destination, but she acknowledged the change with a resigned acceptance.

He rented an overnight room in a tavern,

one he had used before and knew the proprietor to be trustworthy.

She had been unhappy to be left alone,

silently wondered what he was hiding from her,

but had accepted when he asked her to trust him.

He kissed her chastely before he left,

leaving her to stare in wonder

at the closing door.

He had been gone a long time,

she had paced the room,

examining every inch of it and its contents,

dozed on the bed, something she had never experienced before,

but never truly slept.

By the early hours of the morning

she had grown worried,

begun to fret…she jumped in surprise as the door swung open, with the creak of unoiled hinges.

“Corrigan?”, she asked, suddenly afraid.

There was someone in the room,

someone not human.

To her eyes her surroundings were clear,

sharply outlined in silver moonlight.

A person was standing there,

yet it seemed he could not quite bring himself to speak.

And somehow she knew…

She leapt lightly off the bed,

approached, a Kitsune…a

male…he was larger and more powerfully built than her,

dark where she was light.

She knew him by scent, and yet it was the eyes that were confirmation,

somehow they always remained unchanged.

“Corrigan?”, she asked again.

“Alana…”, he answered, the word

awkward in his unfamiliar mouth.

“It is truly you…”, she paced around him in awed fascination.

For his part he shivered,

overwhelmed by the strange sensations from his new form,

from her scent, her nearness.

“Is it like this for you always?”,

he asked. She stopped in front of him and smiled,

“Let me show you…”. She rubbed against him,

silken fur on silken fur.

Time no longer held any meaning,

unhurriedly they examined and explored each others naked forms, before they made love,

slowly, gently, passionately…

Afterwards they lay together,

belly against back;

his foreleg lay protectively over her

with their pawed hands entwined.

He whispered in her ear,

“I cannot stay like this…” She didn’t answer,

though he knew that she was listening, “….

“….but here and now…we

are together…” He squeezed her hand and felt a gentle pressure in return.

They slept, two hearts beating as one…

Morning light was streaming through the curtained windows as she jerked awake,

her heart fell as he walked in from the adjoining room,

“Good morning Alana”

Somehow she had hoped…

“Good morning Corr…”

She attempted to smile

but it failed to reach her eyes,

watched as he sat on a nearby chair and began pulling on his boots.

She jumped off the bed,

attempted to ask lightly,

“So…did you like being a Kitsune?”

“It was strange, but nice”, he smiled, warm and genuine,

“I certainly understand you a lot better”.

He noticed her watching his gloved hands,

something he very rarely wore,

and pulled off the leftmost,

showing her a paw-like hand,

fur reaching almost to his elbow.

He turned and lifted his shirt,

a further patch of silky darkness on his hip and side.

She suspected from the awkward way he sat that

he had also retained a nub of a tail.

“I’m sorry…” “Its fine,”

he answered with a smile,

“really I don’t mind.”

Truly he didn’t, his aches seemed to have faded away

and he felt strong and youthful.

Yet his old scars remained;

mementos of remembered pain.

“Besides the Sorceress told me something like this may happen”,

he continued. The chill of fear gripped her heart,

“What price did you pay?”

“Nothing”, he answered,

“She said a pure desire was payment enough.”

He trembled as he stood before the Powers,

yet his answer was firm and

clear, for he spoke the truth,

“I do it for love…”

“Thank you Corrigan…”

His smile grew wider,

“It is I who should thank you Alana”

“For what?”, she asked,

no longer able to hide the tears in her eyes.

He knelt in front of her,

drew her towards him,

held her tightly.

“For being you…” She relaxed and returned his embrace,

resting her head against his chest,

felt the beat of his gentle heart.

Together again, once and for always. ----------------------

Slowly he approached,

laid his sword upon the altar,

stepped back. He raised his eyes,

defiance through his fear.

“Now and forevermore...” ----------------------

This was “If Only for a Night…”

by Bering, read for you by Khaki,

your faithful fireside companion.

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.