Winter had unofficially arrived in Brickhedge, bringing with two feet of snow that had, as the old timers said, would be refreshed just when it seemed to be melting off. Like clockwork, the snowplows would come rolling down the road every other week, salting the sidewalks and seldom-used roadways through town, ensuring it was safe for all forms of travel. Huge drifts were accumulating at the intersections and at both ends of Main.
As Advrik slowly rolled his Camry up Corn Street, watching for children as they played in the snow, he felt a pang of jealousy. Marveling at the easily fifteen-foot-tall pile of dirty snow, he imagined tunneling through it and creating a fortress out of the stained ice. His imagination had never been something he thought to stifle as he aged, so the sight of such magnificent things still flooded the wolf’s mind with wonder.
‘Driving Home for Christmas’ was playing on the local radio station, a smooth, jazzy piece about the “joys” of holiday travel, wanting to make it home to spend time with one’s family.
Pulling up to his modest two-story, one-bedroom townhouse on Main Street, the wolf’s interest was piqued by the illumination of his living room. Dim as it was, the television was on and flashing a cornucopia of technicolor auras. “Did I turn everything off this morning?” he asked himself. Whipping out his phone, he shot Brigid a quick text, to which she replied almost instantaneously, followed by her appearance at the front window.
BRIGID: Fuck! Yes, I let myself in. Hope that’s okay?
The wolf breathed a sigh of relief that coalesced in the cab of his aging Sedan in the form of a vapor cloud. He never used the heater, never felt a need to between his own coat of thick fur and the various jackets he wore. Today, he wore his usual yellow plaid winter coat over a dark grey long-sleeved shirt.
Stepping out into the biting sub-freezing temperatures, the steam rising up off the warm bag of fast food, creating greasy-smelling clouds as they drifted off into nothingness.
He looked around himself in the dimming late afternoon light. Lighted wreaths hung from street lamps. What few yards were on Main were full of Christmas decorations. Smoke was rising out of chimneys across the land, showing the age of most houses in Brickhedge.
Stepping inside, Brigid had already warmed the house to a nice, relaxing 69 degrees. The purple fox sat in the rocking chair, a pink throw across her legs. Dressed in all black, including a top that hugged her upper torso most enticingly. A Christmas movie was playing on the television screen.
“Thanks for warming the place, Brigs. How long have you been here?” He asked, taking the food into the kitchen. Ever thankful that he had bought an extra Junior Bacon Cheeseburger on his way home.
Brigid rose from the chair and silently padded her way over to the wolf, inspecting the white and red bag of goodies. Her thick black braided hair swung limp at her back. “A few hours now. Eligh was able to get another date, so I just came on over here around three. Hope that’s okay?”
“Are you kidding? Sheesh, coming home to see you standing in the window like that was—“
“You thought someone broke into your fuckin’ house, didn’t you?”
“I did, yes.” The wolf said without hesitation and smiled, removing a large order of fries, two burgers, and a cup of chili from the Wendy’s bag. The little red-haired Terrier on the front smiling back despite the artery-clogging grease that soaked into the cheap paper on which the image had been printed.
“It’s a good thing I was here, honestly,” said the fox, pulling out a chair and sitting down. Her breasts swayed slightly within the loose-fitting bra she currently wore. “Otherwise, you’d had to have eaten all of this awful fast food on your own, and you’ve already got weight issues.”
He paused, apple cider jug tilted slightly as he prepared to pour him and her a cup. “Callista?”
She nodded.
“Whatever happened to doctor/patient confidentiality?” He shook his head as he poured the two glasses while she popped a french fry into her mouth.
“Well shit, you’re not Desmond-level fat, but anybeast can see you got a bit of a belly on you, Vrik.” She smiled, watching the wolf undress to his pants and a simple tee. She mumbled something else quickly under her breath.
“Hm, what was that?” He asked, unwrapping his burger.
“Not. A. Thing.” She smiled seductively, leaning forward as she popped another fried potato into her mouth.
Outside, the snow began to fall once again.
Dinner came and went, and with the foul odor of the greasy fast food wrappers threatening to mingle with the apple pie-scented wax melt, Brigid opted to toss the trash out while the bag was half full. Then, after retrieving two more glasses of ice-cold apple cider, she returned to the living room with Advrik, who had taken up a spot on the couch. He was covered up in a thick blanket of black and red plaid that one might associate with the Brawny paper towel dude.
She slid onto the couch opposite him, pulling some of the blanket towards her as the next movie began to play.
Advrik had, on numerous occasions, been up close with Brigid. They’d hugged, kissed, and even held each other close for long periods of time, but these instances had always been in public places, during dates. What was occurring in the here and now felt different.
It felt real.
Two beasts with mutual feelings for one another, casually lounging about on a cold, snowy December night watching—
“Scrooged! Christ, I forgot that fast.” She barked, shifting in her seat.
“It’s all right, that comes with age, Brigs.” His remark was met with a swift kick to the thigh, followed by several sharp objects pressing against his flesh. “I’m kidding, I’m sorry— Ow, hey! Come on, you’re going to rip my pants!”
She smiled, withdrawing her leg, “Pussy.”
If nothing else, the pain from his partner’s claws threatening to puncture his flesh was an obvious reminder that his life had taken a healthy upswing, one he’d do anything to protect.
As the fox’s attention returned to the television as Bill Murray’s character trounced about acting like the asshole he was, Advrik’s own eyes settled on the beautiful fox that sat opposite him on the couch. Beautiful, strong, smart. He could describe her dozens, no, a hundred of different ways, none of which she’d be willing to accept, instead firing back with a dismissive, swear-laden retort. It was an aspect of Brigid that the wolf loved. A crunchy, slightly bitter exterior with a velvety smooth center was how anyone who knew the fox well enough would immediately describe her.
And she could fight. Held her own against that rampaging giant Turken this last month. He took great comfort in knowing she was somebeast that didn’t need protection..
Now, if only he could think of what to get her for a—
“—Christmas present?” She said softly, her voice snapping him out of his reverie.
“Sorry, what?”
She groaned. “You weren’t even fucking listening to me, were you? Christ, wolf, how do survive at your job?”
“Well, monster hunting isn’t exactly my ‘job’, it’s just what most of the contracts are for, and—“
“Oh fuck, don’t explain. I know already. I’m just screwing with you.”
“Sorry.”
“And don’t apologize!”
“…Sorry.” He smiled mischievously.
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