The first frost of the season had come quickly to the town of Brickhedge as a cold front swept through the mountain town the day prior, ushering in cold, dry air from the far north, sending the temperatures plummeting into the lower thirties.
Farmers still holding out for the Harvest Moon to bring in the final crops of the season were in a frantic rush the whole day, trying to get in as much as they could. All the while flower shops and local gardeners attempted to get their plants covered ahead of the impending frost.
The wind that came with the front had come on strong as well, blowing upwards of fifty miles per hour at times. What had started as a relatively normal beginning to the autumn season had quickly jumped ahead into weather that the locals had described as the ‘post-Thanksgiving chills!’.
Tucked away in the Dawning Sunrise Boarding House, not within his usual basement dwellings, but upstairs in the building’s sitting area was Desmond, the Star-Nosed Mole and the newest member of his extremely exclusive ‘Friends List’: Mossia Amberts, the Colugo.
It was an odd pair if there ever was one. The mole with the tentacled face and the winged lemur-like beast sat across from each other beside the fire, which Toh had started before turning in for the night.
He’d been as confused as anybeast to see Desmond hanging about with old Mossia, wondering just how the two had made acquaintances when they operated on totally different schedules; nevertheless, he’d been happy for the mole not being such a hermit and finally meeting the other boarders for once.
“You’re a mean little shit, you know that?”
Desmond took a long swig of his warmed milk and coffee creamer, his lower tentacles flicking away the milky mustache. “ ’Guilty as charged’, I think they say.”
“I’m going to be blunt with you since you seem to be more than capable of dishing it out: How in the hell did a beast such as yourself wind up here alone?” The colugo took a sip of her tea, replacing the cup with a little clink sound against the small dish it sat upon.
Desmond noticed her fingers contract in a slight show of pain. “That is… not something I’m ready to talk about yet; it puts me in a pissy mood, you see.”
“Well, from the few interactions I’ve had with you, you’re always in a pissy mood, so you’ll have to try a better excuse than that, young one.”
“Mood? Bitch please, this ain’t no ‘mood’, it’s who I am.” Des barked back, his bitchiness coming out. “And what about yourself, you old bat—“
“Colugo. I’m not a bat, dumbass.”
“It was a turn of phrase, you fossil. You’d think a supposed award-winning journalist would know that.”
“Nor am I fossil, you little shit stain. Show some respect for your elders. I’m starting to understand why you don’t have any friends.”
Desmond plopped his fatass back down onto the cushioned chair, having poked at the dimming fire with a metal rod in hopes of reigniting the flames, but to no avail.
“That’s not true at all; I have friends, three in fact. Not including you.” His tone sounded defensive, surprising the mole. That wasn’t something he’d usually take offense to.
The colugo raised an eyebrow, “ ’not including you,’? So you consider me a friend now, is it?”
“…more or less.” Desmond, in his attempts to pull the two parting ships back to the harbor, had found himself in a bigger quandary the more he put his tentacled nose out there.
Befriending Advrik of his own volition was one thing, setting him on a path that had led him to interact with a specific fox and her big queer bear buddy, the ladder of which eventually led to him getting a side gig as an IT guy for Town Hall. The three of them accepted him, as he did them, as a friend.
Mossia “Moss” Amberts here was another story. She was nearly three times his age but a beast totally unique like himself. Not only that, she was a world traveler and had connections to beasts and places that could aid him in his own endeavors should he choose to go down the new path he’d been influenced by.
An award-winning wartime journalist known for her efforts on and off the battlefield. Even now, in her early eighties, the old beast had plenty of spunk left in her and a mind not totally riddled with senility, making for one hell of an interesting beast to converse with should she afford you the time.
The old Colugo had a seemingly endless supply of stories to tell about her travels around the world. Including the many beasts, both living and dead, that she had interviewed in her prime. The sights, both exciting and horrific, that she’d documented.
“Yeah, sure, why the fuck not. Use weirdos should stick together, I think.”
“Excuse me?” She replied, “Who are you calling a ‘weirdo’, exactly? You’re the one with the eldritch horror writhing about on your face.” Moss smiled a toothless grin, having removed her dentures for the evening.
“You look like you have sheets of old discarded foreskins attached to your arms. You’re weird.”
“And you’re a nasty little pissant, but I can understand. I suppose I’m just surprised that a young’un such as yourself would even want to be friends with an ‘old bat’ such as myself.” That toothless grin appeared again as she slowly rose from her chair and walked into the kitchen, grabbing another bottle of water from the fridge as well as a few windmill almond cookies from the jar.
Desmond needed to fluff up his proclamation. A tactic that he still wasn’t entirely comfortable applying as his attempts at forging friendships until now had been wholly based on letting the other party talk, and he just injected his own experiences into the conversation as it developed…
“I just want to hear more about your exploits. The adventures you had been on off in foreign lands… the more gruesome details, too.”
The colugo returned from the kitchen, returning to her cushioned recliner before the fire in a way that was less than graceful, complaining about her back the whole way down.
“So you just want me for stories I offer, eh?”
“Naturally. The way you tell them is particularly interesting and fun as well. I can tell just by the way you speak that you’ve never written a single pansy-ass fluff piece.” He downed the last of his creamed milk and sat the mug on the floor, no doubt having zero intention of taking it to the kitchen.
“Sonny, there are not enough sunsets left in my life for me to recount even one-eighth of the stories I’ve covered, but I can certainly give you a few highlights. Name a major event in the last thirty years, and I’ll tell you if I was involved or not.”
Desmond tapped his chin with his claw, clearly thinking. Discounting the rest of the world, the happenings here in America provided a stack of breaking news stories that could make Mt. Everest look pitiful in comparison.
“All right, how about…”
As the heavy winds continued on through the night, so did the discussions between the young mole and the old colugo.
Despite the turbulence that was to visit the world in the coming months, peaceful nights like this spent by the fire served as important reminders that it’s crucial to slow down and unwind, to remind one’s self of the good times that are worth perserving.
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