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For Kagura

Bookie and Helena - The First Winter

Icy winds swept through the town of Tocantla, the full moon barely visible through the swirling clouds of snow. A sign on the town's southern approach road proudly proclaimed that Tocantla was the original final frontier, standing as it did a good twenty miles' trek north of the nearest city. North from here laid only the great whiteness. On any other night, the eight hundred or so residents of this timber-framed village would have been safely locked in their houses. However tonight, they had company. For tonight was the final night of the annual Tocantla Husky Sledding Championships, widely hailed as the premier time trial in all the northern provinces, and now the traditional opener to the seal-trapping season. From cities and towns they had arrived, both fellow arctic dwellers and folk from more temperate climes to the south, all here to share in the excitement, the thrill, and the challenge of the chase. Two days ago, the toughest teams of canines had departed on the rocky and treacherous snow-trail which looped far to the north. And today, the teams had made their return. The winners were declared, the prizes handed out, and now the revelry and celebrations could begin. Rooms at the town's three taverns were fully booked a year in advance, and every resident in the town offered a spare room or two to their compatriots... for a fair price, of course. This was not greed on the villagers' part. Money played a vital role in husky sledding, and always had. Many who came to cheer on the victors were eager for a flutter, the chance to win big with a gamble on the dogs. And for Bookie the Diamond Dog, a last-minute decision to set up a betting shop here had paid off handsomely.

"Bookie should have thought of this little scam years ago," the canine mused to himself over his third glass of the evening. The Reindeer Tavern was packed with villagers and their guests, all of them engaged in raucous chatter and song. Furs of all kind, canine and feline, predator and prey, stood shoulder to shoulder, united in their passion for these stunning race dogs. Some like Bookie were toasting their success, but even those whom Fortune had deserted this weekend found cause to be merry. As for Bookie, he couldn't help but chuckle at how lucrative this weekend had been. Elbowing his way to the front of house, he slid his glass along the bar, and amidst all the tumult and merriment in the tavern, he acknowledged his financial success today, quietly, but with just a little grin of pride.

"Easy money."

Suddenly the wooden door to the tavern creaked open, accompanied by a blast of icy wind and a few seconds later by cheers and shouts of congratulations. Only one group tonight could be greeted by such a welcome, and moments later the confirmation reached Bookie's ears: they had been joined by the Black Comet sled team, this year's victors in the Tocantla Sled Dog Championships and now officially the fastest huskies in all the northern lands. Bookie watched the hubbub and commotion from across the bar, furs jostling over in the distance, and a pair of black-tipped ears visible above even the antlers of reindeer in the bar... that would be Tonrar, the team's powerhouse and an absolute brute of a sled dog. Bookie watched the crowd making way for them, and soon he could see eight glossy-furred huskies taking their places further along the bar. The black-furred beast himself stood dead centre, his scarred muzzle turned up in a growling scowl as he placed his order first. To the left and the right, furs buzzed around the entourage, eager to catch the briefest of glimpses or words with the animals of the hour. There were no professionals in the championships: every single husky who competed was a proud working dog. And once the crowds had returned to their cities and central heating, and once life in Tocantla had returned to its usual icy pace, the Black Comets and all the other teams would hitch their sleighs and chart their courses for the frozen north, to spend their winters hunting over the tundra.

"You'd never guess they'd been running for three days straight," an arctic fox whispered over Bookie's shoulder. Bookie just nodded in polite agreement, and left the little white-furred creature to gawk. Bookie had never understood why these animals were given such adulation. So huskies could run a little faster than other dogs, so what? Place a bet on them by all means, if it livens up their little running races. But with all said and done, they were just dogs. Oh look, someone was bothering one of the younger huskies for an autograph. How ridiculous. Bookie growled to himself and started to turn away, only to freeze and glance back when he realised whom he had seen. Just a few feet along the bar from Bookie stood the lady of the hour. The lead dog, captain and alpha female of the Black Comet sled team, a bitch whose fur was a medley of wintry bronze and silver, and whose endurance and tenacity were renowned across the nation. Her name was Helena.

So that was Helena. Of course he knew the name. But this was the first time he had seen the animal herself at such close quarters. And regardless of his opinion of dog sledding per se, there was no denying how gorgeous a bitch she was. Bookie had always thought that 'love at first sight' was nonsense. But when the husky turned in his direction, he knew exactly what was happening. Most of her entourage had spread out to mingle with the other patrons, but nobody had yet approached Helena herself. This was Bookie's chance. He made his way towards her, but as he cleared his throat, an eager young dog, by all accounts the rookie of the team, was tapping Helena on the arm and drawing her attention back to the bar, behind which a caribou was now standing.

"Come on Helena, it's our turn next. What do you want?"

"Let Bookie buy the lady a drink."

Helena, her team-mate and the barman all looked at the brown-furred mongrel quizzically. Unfazed, Bookie flicked a claw towards a high shelf of bottles behind the bar. "The bottle of Kinguyaki Vintage Maple Liqueur for the both of us. Please."

Helena chuckled at this simple-minded canine. "Perhaps you don't realise, sir, but that bottle costs over five hundred..."

But Bookie dipped his paw into his inside waistcoat pocket, pulling out a clutch of bills and laying them on the bar. Six wide eyes stared at the dog who calmly counted out his money on the bar. He slid a small pile in the caribou's direction.

"Let us name a price. Two hundred for the bottle."

The bartender shook his head and tried his hardest to stifle an incredulous laugh. "I'm sorry sir, but the lady is right. You're offering me less than half the asking price for a drink like this."

Bookie straightened his waistcoat. "Alright then, let us talk about asking prices. You live in middle of nowhere, and apart from these few days, for rest of year, your only customers are penniless fur-trappers. So Bookie curious. How many offers have people made on that bottle? Ever?"

The caribou swallowed. "Well, none sir."

"Mhm." Bookie nodded in mock-thoughtfulness. "And how long have you tried to sell that bottle?"

"Th... three years."

"Okay. So this may be best offer you get."

Still the caribou was hesitating, scratching the base of his antler. Bookie, calm as ever, pulled out another twenty. A few seconds later, the caribou offered Bookie his hoof.

"Deal." The caribou took the small pile of bills, rang up the total, and then fetched the bottle along with two glasses. Bookie drew no attention to the look of defeat on the caribou's face as he poured out a measure in each glass. He had closed the deal, and nothing after that mattered.

The caribou left the bottle with Bookie. Bookie offered one glass to Helena, then swiped the second himself and raised it high.

"To the Black Comets."

Helena paused for a second, but then raised her glass all the same. "Cheers... Bookie, was it?"

The mongrel nodded. "And Helena needs no introduction. Not when she's talk of town."

She managed a wan smile. "Thank you for the drink." She spoke in polished tones, less typical of the backwater north, and more typical of the playing fields and leafy campuses of the nation's ancient colleges far to the south. So, an upper-class girl then? That should make things interesting.

"The pleasure is all Bookie's. Even Diamond Dogs have charitable side, yes. But... if anyone dare to steal Bookie's money..." With a snap of the claws, a blade appeared in the palm of his paw. He span it in one paw, balanced the edge on his clawtip, and then with dramatic flourish, flicked his paw and the blade was gone. He scowled at the husky at Helena's side, and five seconds later, the young dog had disappeared from view. Bookie half-expected the whelp to tuck his tail between his legs and whimper as he slunk back into the drunken crowd.

"So you're some kind of 'dog of illusion'?"

Bookie smiled at that epithet. "Some might choose to call Bookie that. But Bookie just doing what he can to make a living in this world."

"While buying hundreds of dollars' worth of liquor."

"Well, tonight is special occasion for both of us. Bookie is allowed a day or two of indulgence."

Helena nodded, and took a taste from her glass. And for her first taste of alcohol in many weeks, it was welcome. It was a sweet syrupy alcohol, which slipped over her tongue like dark ice. Bookie apparently had no intention of savouring his glass, and instead knocked back maybe forty dollars' worth of drink in seconds. Unbelievable.

Helena's bemused glance didn't escape Bookie's notice, even when she changed two seconds later to a polite smile.

"Well, thank you once again for the drink. I expect half the bar wants to meet with me."

"Oh? I was hoping Helena would share at least one more glass with Bookie."

She sighed and nodded. "I suppose one more wouldn't hurt."

Bookie smiled and gladly topped her up. This was her first taste of alcohol after weeks of training, and damn was she going to enjoy it. All around them faded to white noise, the heat from the liquor and the tavern's log fire now warming the sled dog.

"So, what are Helena's plans for this evening?

For just a second, the husky paused. "We're not entirely sure. A drink or two here to start, maybe another tavern, and then I suppose back to the Athletes' Camp." But Bookie shook his head and shot her a feral grin, his single gold tooth glinting in the gaslight.

"Helena knows what Bookie means. Dogs and bitches do not spend months or even days in each other's company without... certain unmentionable acts happening. Animals have urges, after all."

Helena shrugged. "No point pretending it won't happen."

"Let Bookie guess. The big guy gets first shot."

Helena glanced over her shoulder at Tonrar, who was now pressed up against the bar with a young ermine, his dark growls interrupted by giggles from the perky mustelid. Helena could smell the sled dog's excitement, and she tried her hardest to suppress an indignant growl. Good luck anyway, hun. Tonrar's probably as thick as your waist.

"Listen, I really don't think we should be talking about..."

But Bookie took her paw and pulled her close. He took a sharp sniff of breath. Helena noticed: Bookie wanted her to.

"Why should we not? For team loyalty, for team faithfulness? Do you think Tonrar cares for such things?"

She gave a dry laugh. "You're very forward."

"Put it down to experience. Bookie learned long ago that fortune favours the fearless. In game of skill, or out on snow trail, it's the dog that dares who wins."

The husky bitch took a moment to ponder his aphorism. "True. But you're playing with sled dogs now, animals born to compete. How does Bookie think he compares to Tonrar? Or to any sled dog?"

"Judge for yourself."

Helena blinked in confusion. "What does that mean?"

Don't try and play coy with Bookie, dear. Without warning, he took Helena's paw, holding it to his crotch. Bookie held the husky's wrist tight, half-expecting her to wrench it away. Yet Helena made no attempt to remove her paw. Whether shock or curiosity was the reason for her palsy, Bookie did not care. Instead he smirked and brought his broad muzzle down to the husky's level, breathing in her ear.

"Bookie may be street dog, but he's no less of canine where it matters."

Bookie made no attempt to conceal what lay underneath his suit. Indeed he did his best to flex what had already slipped from his sheath. Helena kept her paw motionless, gripping the dog through his suit. He murred in her ear, low and deep. His muzzle brushed right by Helena's face, his slavering dog breath ruffling her neck fur. He punctuated his low growls with sharp sniffs of breath.

"Grrr.... Helena wants," he rumbled under his breath. "Bookie can smell it."

All of Bookie's attention was focused on Helena. He knew that aroma, faint and fresh though it was: every male dog knew how it felt for a bitch's heat to white-out any and every sane thought in their mind. He also knew that the other huskies were watching them exchange words, but again, he simply did not care. Besides, that was all they could see. In the crowd, none of them saw Bookie's other paw slip down to the husky's crotch, nor did they see the mongrel cup her between the thighs. He gave her a second to lash with her claws... No? Too late then... before he ground in his paw, groping the husky through the tough fabric of her running shorts. She locked eyes with the bedraggled dog, watching him growl. Her poker-face was impressive, the sign of a true sportsdog with a mind as solid as the permafrost. But even the harshest of hoars will melt with enough heat. He flicked his paw upwards, just an inch or so, but more enough for the effect he sought. And sure enough it came: that whimper, that feeblest of cracks in the husky's facade. It was the gentlest of gasps, little more than a sigh in fact, but even that subtle breath could not slip past the keen-eared mongrel. In Bookie's game, sleight of paw was everything. Up he drove, enough to work out another tiny whimper before with a final teasing rub, Bookie removed his paw. He finished his second glass, giving Helena barely a second to catch her breath.

"Bookie staying here in Reindeer Tavern tonight. Room 1. Come and find him if you get the chance. Oh, and the rest of drink is all yours."

After fixing his bow tie, Bookie turned tail and parted company from the husky, pressing his way through the thinning crowds and heading for a side door. Helena watched him slink away.

"Dirty half-breeds," she muttered, so quiet she was sure that Bookie couldn't hear. But suddenly the mongrel stopped and spun on the spot, smiling and bowing for the lady.

"Beautiful bitch."

---

Bookie sat at the dressing table in his upstairs room, high in the rafters above the Reindeer Tavern, counting out his winnings for the weekend. Up this high, Bookie could hear the wind, howling just an inch or two on the other side of the wooden rafters. Yet with a log fire burning to his side, Bookie felt no cold tonight. His waistcoat hung in the closet, and he sat at the dresser in his pristine white shirt, poring over his earnings by the light of a whale-oil lamp. He picked up one pile of green bills and flicked through them. Some furs may have found cash old-fashioned, but Bookie for one loved paper money: the texture of it, the smell of it, and the weight of it all, physical power right there in his paws. His paws and nimble claws moved at a blur as he counted his takings. He could count faster than any animal he had ever met, even professional croupiers, thanks to his years of practice shuffling cards and bills. Once done, he set the pile back on the table and jotted the total in his hardback ledger. A handsome sum indeed. He turned to his reflection in the upright mirror in front of him, at the canine of no set breed staring back at him, brown-furred with hawk-yellow eyes, little perked ears, and a constant scowl on one side of his muzzle.

"One step closer to that casino of yours," he smirked. "With enough change to buy a lady a drink."

He picked up a second pile of money ready to count, when a sudden pounding on the timber door caused him to slit a claw through a twenty. However he did not grumble or curse, especially when he knew who had interrupted him. Sweeping all of his winnings into the desk drawer, he rose from the chair and crossed to the door. He unlatched it, and as expected, he was met with the sight of a copper-furred husky bitch. She wore a scarf and seal-fur coat for extra protection from the biting cold. Both the coat and her face were speckled with drops of melting snow. She walked bare-pawed, as did every husky: their paws were natural snow-shoes after all, able to handle snow, ice and jagged rock that could freeze or split the hooves of a horse. In her hand she clutched a half-bottle of Kinguyaki Maple Liqueur. Bookie could barely contain his gleeful smirk.

"Helena gave the big dog the slip?"

"You could say that," she muttered, in a neutral tone. Bookie nodded and opened his chamber door wider.

"Well then my dear, let us not linger in doorway. Please, come in: Helena must be frozen."

The husky nodded and trudged into Bookie's room. She took off her coat and scarf, which Bookie dutifully took while she shook her dewy tail. "Well you are right there. It's cold as hell out tonight. And when a husky can feel the cold, you know it's severe."

"Bookie understands." Beneath her coat, Helena had chosen to wear only a tight-fitting undershirt and pants. Therefore, every curve and accent of her athletic body was on full display. Bookie could surmise why Helena had chosen to wear garments which accentuated her figure this way. Yet he was prepared to bide his time and first enjoy some polite company with the husky femme. "Please, Helena, come sit by fire. Husky must savour her last night of warmth before long winter."

Gratefully she nodded, seating herself in front of the fire. The landlady of the Reindeer had kindled this fire half an hour ago, as per Bookie's instructions, meaning that the room was now filled with a pleasant warmth. The smoky heat washed over the husky's face, setting her copper fur aglow, and she rubbed her paws together, breathing over them as well to warm herself. The street dog meanwhile hung up her coat in the closet, next to his assortment of waistcoats. He then crossed the room, growling a little tune to himself, to latch the door shut and fasten the heavy deadbolt.

"I see Helena has brought rest of drink."

"Well you paid for it. I didn't think you'd be too happy if I shared it with those huskies of mine. You didn't exactly get on well with my team-mates."

Bookie shrugged. "Helena is welcome to share a glass with whomever she chooses. But, as she decides to share with Bookie, the pleasure is all his."

From a wall cabinet across the room, Bookie took down two crystal glasses. He took his place on the rug next to Helena, raised himself up on his haunches, and held one glass in each paw. The husky unstopped the bottle and poured some liquor into each. She sealed the bottle and set it on the wooden floor by the rug, before taking the glass in Bookie's left paw. The male dog smiled and raised a toast.

"To a safe and prosperous winter."

Helena joined him. "The same to you."

While they drank, any number of topics for small-talk crossed both of their minds. In the end, however, both male and female canine simply sat in silence. They could both hear the snowstorm outside even through the wooden shutters, whipping through the town and howling along the street of wooden houses. Inside however, the fire kept them perfectly warm. For untold minutes, they sat still, savouring their drinks. The bitch clutched her glass in both paws, watching the fire and listening to it crackle. Bookie's attention however was focused elsewhere. He watched the firelight, rippling over the husky's bronze pelt. It illuminated the white accents of her fur, highlighting every fine fibre, and it shone a corona around the sculpted form of her muzzle and ears. The street dog was transfixed, utterly unable to turn his gaze from the bitch now locked in his chamber. It was he who first broke the stillness.

"This is big honour for Bookie. Not every day that he gets to share company with beautiful sled dog. Bookie much rougher around edges, especially compared to pure bred husky like Helena." He gnawed the fur on his arm, only partly for emphasis. "But... there remains one question on his mind. What made Helena decide to come here?"

She tilted her head in his direction. "Really? Do I have to explain myself to you? I thought me being here was enough for you."

"But think. Other huskies will smell Bookie's scent on Helena. And still Helena does not mind?"

Her eyes narrowed to a glower, and she did not answer.

"It's just... okay, this old mongrel might be a couple kibbles short of a doggy bowl, but even he would think twice before going behind Tonrar's back."

Helena paused for breath. When she spoke, her voice dropped a register. "Tonrar can have me all winter if he wants. Or rather, whenever he wants."

"'Whenever he wants'? What does Helena mean?"

That was enough information for now. Bookie could infer whatever he wanted from that. He certainly didn't need to know about Tonrar's less negotiated advances.

"Don't say that Tonrar... oh Helena, that must be awful."

The husky shrugged. "He's a dog. Dogs fuck each other."

"But Tonrar is so powerful. And Helena must fight and struggle underneath big boss dog. Bite, sink in claws, anything to stop him mounting..." Suddenly Helena raised her paw.

"Please stop saying things like that."

"But this is serious. Tell Bookie what Tonrar does. Does he pin Helena? Threaten her? Hurt her if she resists?"

Helena glanced at the rug, dumb.

"Other huskies join in?"

Helena sighed and tried stumbling to her paws, swayed under the influence of the maple liqueur. But Bookie caught her paw and guided her back to the rug. He shook his head. "Bookie cannot let Helena leave just like that. If she's unhappy with what team mates do, it won't help to keep it inside all winter. Helena must tell someone. Remember, right now, team mates are far away, back in Athletes' Camp, and Bookie is here to listen to you."

"With respect. What difference can a shady alley dog like you make?"

Now it was the mongrel's turn to adopt the hang-dog stare. "Most likely very little. Bookie only knows bare basics of husky sledding, and still less of the politics of your sport. But Bookie will say one thing: Helena Husky deserves better than this. Helena is lead dog, champion pure bred husky. Bitches everywhere look up to Helena, not just huskies here in North, but dogs everywhere, male and female, adult and even pups. So why does Helena not make a stand? Run, leave, never come back?"

Straightaway she shook her head. "I can't. There are two of my pups on our team... well they're not pups any more, but they're rookies all the same, and they need their lead dog. We've got to stick together as a team... and a family."

"Make new team. Take pups with..."

"But they're OUR pups! Mine and Tonrar's."

Bookie held his tongue. The husky may have snapped a few seconds ago, but now she was completely silent.

"Oh, Helena..."

"Here's the deal. Sled teams work like an old-fashioned wolf pack. We have an alpha bitch - that's me - and an alpha male - Tonrar. And it's only this pair which mates. But even in that society, not every relationship is the same. With us... it started out fine. I was his second bitch, fresh in the role alongside a husky entering his seventh winter. Back then he was welcoming, friendly, warm even, would you believe? All that changed one night, the first time I came into heat. We were camped in a forest, half a day's run from the nearest settlement. We had broken away from the group, just him and me, out of sight of our camp. And that was where he pounced. Within seconds I was face-first on the forest floor, paw around my muzzle, and him on top of me. I never even got the chance to tell him 'no'. And yes, the end result... he sired my first litter. Two of them survived. Aurin and Kuiske are their names, the brightest and most tenacious wheel dogs you could imagine. He loves those pups - we both do. And the second I take his pups, Tonrar will track me down, and in all likelihood..." she swallowed hard. "I don't want to think about it. But also, if I abandon them to Tonrar, there's no telling what he would do. Who would stop him snapping their necks, just to prove a point?"

"Surely he would not?"

"We are huskies. Proud of our breed, loyal to our team. I will not abandon my pups, and I will not abandon my team. Look at me. We are one step away from wild wolves. Now you're a canine, so you know how it feels to have that wildness, that lingering instinct which you just cannot shake. Imagine how much more intense that is in an animal like Tonrar."

Oh, Bookie could certainly feel that animal instinct. Helena may not have been as physically imposing as some sled dogs, but there in that room, Bookie could feel that lupine heritage, that wildness, that untameable lust to run free, simmering underneath her wintry fur. It was there in her stance, strong, a single edgy paws plucking at the rug. And it was there too in her breath: the open-mawed pant, the rapid rise and fall of her massive lungs.

"But, if Helena does want to prove a point to Tonrar... other ways are possible."

"Oh yes? And what are those?"

But Bookie smiled. "Oh, Helena knows."

"Maybe she does. Or, maybe Bookie will be a gentleman and show a fem exactly what he means."

She scratched a clawed paw over the rug. She caught Bookie staring, and heard a huff slip from the mutt's muzzle. Helena lifted one of her ears as high as she could - each of them had a slight natural flop, which stopped her from fully perking them. She cocked her muzzle to the side, her eyes wide and curious.

"What's the matter, Bookie?" she whispered, her voice as clear as spring water. She untangled her other paw from the glass, planting it on the rug between them, beginning a low slow slink in the mongrel's direction, her gaze never leaving the street dog. Bookie stayed still, watching each moment of the husky's approach. Every part of the husky was ice cool. The soundless pad of her paw. The lilt of her polished voice. There she was again, the athlete, calm and composed, fast of mind, calculating. Bookie swallowed, as discreetly as he could.

"I know what's happening here. You've never handled a pedigree husky before, have you? Now tell me Bookie, what is it about us wild and pure animals that leaves you half-breeds so... enraptured? Maybe it's our glossy pelts?" She brushed up against him, making sure to catch his muzzle with her curled tail. "Maybe it's our strength and our poise, and that refined je ne sais quoi in our every movement?" From here, she walked in a tight circle, canine brushing against canine. Bookie raised his chin, keeping his breath steady, trying to block out her sweet and musky scent.

"Or maybe it's their teasing and tempting nature?"

Helena smiled. "Maybe so. After all, this is the ultimate prize for you, isn't it, big dog? It's the chance, for one moment in your life, to feel how it is to live as a pure-breed. But don't worry Bookie, there are no secret codes or anything. From Great Dane to Chihuahua, we are all Canis familiaris where it counts. So, you just do what comes so naturally to you."

Suddenly Bookie pounced and flipped the husky onto her back, pinning her down onto the rug. He held his arms tense, paws firmly on her sides. Startled, she broke into a slight pant and held up her paws to her chest, staring wide-eyed at her assailant.

"Whuff. Bookie..."

He growled softly at the husky, and she growled straight back. He ratcheted up his growl and she matched him, while also taking a firm hold of his wrists.

"Helena is playing very dangerous game here. She should know what happens when she teases male dogs. Now, beautiful husky is in Bookie's paws."

"Mmm. In the paws of the games master, no less."

Bookie chuckled and licked her nose. "Silly husky, trying to stroke Bookie's ego. She should know he can see through all Helena's clever tricks. Besides, tonight, being this close to Helena is the only honour which Bookie needs."

Helena scoffed. "Liar."

He dropped his muzzle to Helena's level, licking again over the bridge of her nose. "Only when it suits Bookie's game."

Holding both of the husky's wrists under one paw, Bookie unclipped his bow tie before unfastening his suit shirt, top to bottom. He tugged and growled and shrugged it off his shoulders, before tossing it to the side. This left him wearing only his suit trousers. Helena meanwhile had stopped resisting, and as soon as Bookie unhanded her, one paw fell to the hem of her shirt. However he took her paw and guided it away. He knelt up by her side and, resting his free paw on her waist, he guided her upwards to kneel in front of him. Bright brown husky eyes gazed up at the mongrel, watching while he took a grip of her shirt, lifting it high above her ears and up-stretched paws. Bookie afforded himself a growl at the sight now greeting him, for Helena wore no brassiere that night. One paw rested on the half-naked husky's chest, sliding teasingly towards one breast, before suddenly turning south and beginning a slow descent. Claws trailed through her ice-white underfur, and both canines felt their breaths quicken. He clutched her stomach, feeling it flutter, before lowering his paw to the waistband of her undershorts. He held the husky close, and from there, he only needed the slightest of tugs to lower her shorts to her knees, from where she rose to her feet and shrugged them away. Thus in an instant, every inch of the husky's copper-furred form was revealed to Bookie. From her deep chest to the tight line of her stomach, and beyond to her solid haunches and thighs, her powerful figure was built for hours of running, all mantled by a bronze-and-white pelt which was warm and almost silken to the touch. But Bookie was not through with his explorations just yet. Her standing had brought his muzzle within range of her breasts and, sliding his claws behind her back, he slipped a slow, upwards lick over her delicate nubs. The husky's shiver was capitulation enough for Bookie, and he rose back to his own hind paws, where he stood slightly above her maw. She stepped up to the mongrel, gave a soft breathy growl, and once again took her grip on the male before her. This time however, with no potential spectators, the grip of her paw was that much tighter. Bookie growled, part in surprise and part in encouragement, and he made no effort to suppress himself as he unsheathed under the husky's guidance. His immaculately pressed, tight trousers did nothing to conceal his fearsome arousal. Helena felt it, that wild hardness underneath her pawpads, and she failed completely at suppressing her whimper. Strength-wise, Bookie may have been no match for a brute like Tonrar, but the size of his endowment was more than a match for the sled dog.

"Helena is used to handling animals this size?"

She rolled her eyes and focused on freeing the dog from his cage. As soon as his trousers snapped open, Bookie's arousal spilled into the open, and Helena let loose a ruffling growl at the sight. No wonder the Diamond Dog was wearing such a prideful smirk. She pulled his trousers away and clutched the canine's thick, veined, dark purple meat, letting him drip precum onto her wrist.

"Mmm. Bookie stands here, before lead dog, ready for her orders."

Helena only needed a second to think of her response before she leant up, growling, and nipped the mongrel's ear.

"Fuck me, Bookie."

But rather than wrestle her to the rug as expected, he pulled away, looking quite hurt.

"Aw, no proper sled dog commands? Not going to tell Bookie to mush, even one time?"

Helena bit her bottom lip and uttered a long low growl.

"First, don't ever say 'mush' to a husky. It's condescending and it's wrong. Second... just don't push your luck, fleabag."

Bookie gave a smile, his demeanour light as a snowflake. "You already know Bookie's comeback to such comment. If Helena has such high standards, why does she want fleabag to - as she says - fuck her?"

"Oh come on, you're smarter than that. You know why."

"Yes, Bookie knows."

Her ears dropped. "And Bookie does not mind?"

"Not at all. Bookie would be honoured to raise Helena's pups."

But Bookie gave a deft sweep of his thick canine tongue, straight to her neck, which made the snow dog melt. He took her in his arms, crossing the room while gazing into her caramel-brown eyes. Next thing she knew, Bookie slammed her down front-first onto his bed, bending her over and making her yip. The dog was quick, covering the husky's back and hunkering over her with a down and dirty growl. Helena realised a few seconds later what position Bookie had manoeuvred himself into, and she shuddered under the mongrel's weight. She braced her great snowshoe paws on the edge, arching her back and pressing up against the male, all the while letting off little warning growls. But undeterred, Bookie grasped hold of Helena's midriff, with both paws, and began a slow and deliberate hump, gulping and murring in self-indulgence. Helena trembled underneath him, before suddenly barking out loud, snapping with sharp white teeth, trying to twist her whole body just enough to latch her teeth onto his neck. She bristled, bucking underneath the mongrel; but Bookie held firm, growling and grappling the mass of pure dog muscle underneath him.

"Helena is fighter," Bookie mocked, tongue between teeth and his paw now grabbing the bitch's breast.

"Yep!" she panted back, struggling under the surprisingly strong street dog. Soon all her twisting paid off, and she wrenched herself from the mongrel's grasp and leapt forwards onto the bed, wheeling around in an instant. Of course Bookie joined her straightaway, assuming a hunched, almost feral stance. Helena might have given him an opening with that tongue-lick, but if Bookie wanted to breed her tonight, he would have to fight for it. She never offered herself cheaply to anyone, especially to some junkyard cur. She fought the twitch of submission in her paw, and let the rush of adrenaline wash over her body, sharpening her vision and priming every muscle for action. She sounded a few warning growls, conscious not to bark too loudly, in case someone downstairs thought she was genuinely under attack. He crossed the bed and she backed away, keeping low the whole time. He corralled her into the corner, and when inevitably she made a leap for freedom, he pounced. She certainly put up a worthy struggle, Bookie admitted. But the male mongrel was by far the more tenacious dog. Within seconds he had pinned the husky on her front, and before she could squirm away he snapped his jaws to the nape of her neck, gripping her like a mother wolf holds its cubs. Helena fairly yelped at that bite, shivering as hot canine breath teased her neck, but crucially she held still. Her tail was already partly curled, but Bookie reached down and grasped it anyway, lifting it right up. While her claws continued to flail, he reached underneath his mate, grasping a good pawful of her supple breasts. Then, gripping the husky's side with his clawed paw, he rolled his hips nice and casually, grinning as he grunted, watching his entire length emerge and thrust underneath the sled dog's curl, rubbing alongside her thigh. That made her yelp, and whimper, and all but plead with the male for clemency.

"Ahhh yes! Bookie knows how to make bitches howl."

And in that instant, Bookie asserted himself as every canine male knows by instinct. He gave a mighty grunt, set down his left paw, set down his right paw, and then, he humped the husky. Helena gasped, and then uttered a low wavering howl, as her whole body rocked under his erratic and aggressive humps. Bookie smirked and growled, staring down with a prideful growl, watching while he teased Helena with his arousal. Now, he was right on the brink of claiming that husky snatch.

"Are... other huskies gentle with their leader?"

Helena said nothing.

"Of course they are not. Sled dogs are athletes. They work up such hunger, such frustration, when out on the trail. But... when the race is over, champion sled dogs deserve their prize."

Now that Bookie had mounted her, she could feel just how well endowed the mongrel was. Their encounter in the bar had given her some indication of the male's size. But now the animal was properly unleashed, grunting and snarling, asserting himself with all manner of ragged thrusts. Helena gasped, giving a sharp little howl with each of the mongrel's thrusts. If Bookie was half the horn-dog she expected, now he had the taste of husky-rump, he would be thrusting forwards within seconds to claim the whole smorgasbord.

Oh! But speaking of taste... Bookie had slid off her back, and seconds later, a thick dog tongue was wrapping around her folds. The scent was indescribable, sweeter than the taste of the kill after a long day's hunt. Bookie dug his snout right against her treasure, teasing her with tongue and breath. That got the husky panting, and she craned her neck, whimpering, almost pleading with the male. He clutched her with both paws, calmly moving back into position with a steady growl, and without warning he rolled her sideways, turning her paws into the air.

"There we are, my dear, on your back. Bookie wants to see Helena's face as he breaks her."

He took up station above the prone husky, his muzzle poised right above the female's nose, huffs of his hot canine breath teasing over her face. One set of foreclaws rested by her side, digging into the bed-covers, and the other toyed with her open and vulnerable sex. He hunched over his bitch, laying his thick erection over her uncurled tail, his tip just an inch away from the sled dog's treasure. He murred softly and stroked his bitch with a single claw, down her flesh and then up, pressing in his digit ever so slightly and feeling the Arctic dog shiver underneath him. He could feel her nectar, moistening his claw while he stroked, and his length responded in kind, covering her passage with a spray of clear canine fluid.

Now was certainly not the time for Helena to change her mind.

"Wait, Bookie, we really should think this through first..."

Instantly the sled dog fell silent, with only a quivering huff of husky breath. His dry paw slipped inwards to clutch at her breast, and Helena uttered a gentle cry of longing, part-whimper and part-howl, but far softer. In this time, the mongrel had brought his thick tapered length to the husky's treasure, grinding on her folds and jostling, searching for that blissful point of penetration, and the instant he found it, Bookie the Diamond Dog bucked his hips, slipping his first half-inch deep into the husky.

"Grr! Yes! Helena is so tight."

Helena shuddered and curled her muzzle into a hard snarl, baring her teeth out of instinct. She clutched onto the mongrel, claws latching onto his arm as he penetrated her. Undeterred, he thrust forwards and drew a yowl from his bitch, driving half of his length inside her with a single brutal jab, chuckling through his growls of arousal, and giving her no time to recover before he grasped her side and delivered some hasty bucks to hammer himself into the husky, inch by inch, ploughing depths of her flesh which only her alpha male had ever breached. Once every inch of Bookie's erection was buried, throbbing, deep within her sex, he spared a moment to glance at the husky's face, at her open-mawed pant and her half-closed eyes. She caught him staring, and snapped upwards at him with a barking growl. Again this only drew a chuckle of amusement from the male. He stroked her muzzle, wary of her carnivore-teeth, and scritched behind her ears to subdue her. And then, he began, mating Helena with growls and with rough erratic thrusts that shook the husky hard. And if those growls and barks were any indication, Helena had no intention of taking this steady either. Good dog. Good bitch. The sled dog snarled and yelped underneath him, raking her claws over the bedsheets by her sides as the mongrel buffeted her with a fearsome display of mating prowess. Leaning forward with a growl and taking the husky in a tight embrace, he rolled onto his back, licking the nose of the husky bitch now atop him, before he pounded her from underneath. Each of his upward thrusts caused a quiver in her quiet solemn howl, and she closed her eyes, rocking along with Bookie while his claws dug into her back. He was unlike any other dog she had mated. Sled dogs are well-drilled animals, and that dedication and discipline shines through in everything they do - including their rough and steady copulation. Bookie, by contrast, changed his pace continuously, sometimes taking the husky deep, and other times pistoning hard and fast. One constant, however, was the rawness of their encounter, marked as much by Bookie's slavering breath as by his rough assaults. Helena now had no doubt that Bookie would be more than a match for most of the male dogs on her team. On any other day, she would be more than a match even for Bookie. However three days of running had sapped the husky's legendary endurance and rendered her exhausted, while the liquor had worn down what remained of her resistance. And Bookie took full advantage, giving the husky everything he had to offer, growling on each of his rough and ragged thrusts, never letting Helena settle into a single rhythm. Neither dog suppressed their constant stream of wild huffs and growls, each of them surrendering to the burning heat now coursing through their bodies. Still louder those growls grew until Helena braced her paws on Bookie's chest and the mongrel paused, panting, watching the husky with curiosity. Helena rose straight up. Her hind paws sunk into the sheets, Bookie jolted, growling and biting his bottom lip. Helena raised herself almost completely off the male, only to sink straight back down and hilt the dog within her. This drew a savage snarl from both canines, and Bookie reached up to her breast, giving her purchase as she slid down the dog's bone, time and again, trembling every time. For the first time, Bookie could see their connection, slick with his precum and her own husky nectar. For a while he let Helena take charge, watching himself plunge upwards into the huffing husky, but soon enough he resumed control, claiming the husky from down below. She tried her hardest to cling on, to writhe against the mongrel and drive him to the same burning pleasure which she was now feeling. To her credit, she knew how to handle a dog, always dragging herself down Bookie's length at a different angle. But every inch of her body, from her shoulders down to her paws, ached under all the physical exertion of the past three days, not least that final hard sprint for the finish line when they realised that victory was theirs to snatch. Now Helena could do little more than howl. Suddenly the mongrel planted his forepaws by his side, arched his back and lifted Helena clean off the bed, growling at her from down below. Her hind paws dangled in mid-air, leaving her suspended, impaled on the mongrel's meat. Helena's eyes shot open, and she could only gasp, utterly taken aback by his show of strength. She expected Bookie to simply hold her there, but instantly the mongrel pounded upwards, with renewed urgency and vigour, rocking the husky who raised her muzzle and whined for mercy which she knew would not be granted. And at that point, all control which the sled-team captain retained over the situation was completely and instantly lost. Hot husky breath spiralled into the air with her every pant, visible here in this half-heated room, and she trembled atop her mate, her hind paws swiped in vain for purchase on the bed, and her treasure caressed the male for all she was worth.

"Ohhh... my gods! I had no idea you were this strong."

Down below, Bookie could not resist a gleeful smirk. "Well you know what they say. Always keep an ace up your sleeve."

One rough paw reached upwards and locked around the husky's breast, drawing a pleading yowl from the female. The sight of the ravaged husky drove the mongrel onwards. His gaze trailed to her ears, which twitched in the most unbearably cute way with every thrust, and his paw tightened around her supple breast. He had her in his clutches now. Already Bookie could feel his knot swell, and tonight he had every intention of tying with this fine husky. Helena knew all too well what Bookie's intentions were, and she ground down on the meaty knot, huffing for breath, shaking as she fought to engulf him. Yet with Helena's strength faltering, the big mongrel took control, wrapping his claws around the husky's hips and pulling her down, hard, while he drove his own hips upwards with all his strength, feeling the deliciously slow yield of her flesh to his bone, before a sudden slurp and an upwards jolt kindled a triumphant growl within the mongrel and drew a final, wild, incoherent howl from the husky. They clung to each other, paws on fur, as the blissful blizzard of a twin climax cut through their bodies. The sight of the husky impaled on his length, and the grip of her innermost walls around his knot... it was all too much for Bookie to bear. A steady trickle of canine precum spilled from his tip. Then, with a vicious and triumphant growl, Bookie the Diamond Dog claimed his jackpot, launching his canine seed deep into the husky. He felt every surge of his knotted cock and every lashing of his fertile fluid drawn from deep within his loins. He swallowed hard, granting himself this most exquisite of releases after days of self-starvation, and he grunted at each forceful spurt of his thick virile semen, grinning with pride and gnashing his jagged teeth together. They could feel it, both of them: each heavy throb and flex of the mongrel's embedded cock, dog cum rippling through his shaft to coat the husky's inner walls, spurt after spurt of his seed. This had been far too long coming: Bookie's paws were tough and nimble, but they were no comparison with the caress of a velvety husky snatch. With every drop of hot liquid which he spilled, Bookie lowered the odds of siring his first litter. The thought of pups, the thought of pressing his paw onto Helena's rounded stomach and feeling the kick of tiny paws, not to mention the sheer thrill of bedding his first pedigree pooch... all of these thoughts sent warmth washed over the male, his pride welling with every drop of canine semen which he spilled. A rumble built in Bookie's throat before he bucked, one final time, snorting through his teeth and waiting for the euphoria to clear.

Helena meanwhile was still calling with a plaintive, almost sorrowful howl. One of her paws clutched at the junction of bitch and untamed mongrel, gripping at his embedded knot, while her other hung by her side, limp and shaking. Soon Helena's howls had reduced to desperate whines and worries. With an elongated growl, Bookie lowered himself onto the bed, catching the husky and guiding her forwards to lay on his chest. Each of them winced as that engorged dog meat ground within the husky's sensitive flesh. Both dogs lay tangled, panting, and it was a good long while before either of them found the strength to even speak. There were any number of words, taunts, which the two dogs could have launched at each other. But in the end, both dogs simply relaxed in deep pleasure - two happy, messy, knotted canines.

"Helena is loud. My poor ears."

The sled dog whuffed and smiled. "Yeah. I'm a howler."

He snickered and rubbed the husky's paw. "It is music to Bookie's ears."

With a whine of resignation, she reached between their bodies and clutched her stomach. Of course, there was always a chance... it was still only the first night of her heat, after all. But still she could feel him, this scruffy mutt, knotted with her, filling her. Even many minutes after their wild mating, he was still throbbing deep within his mate, no doubt drawing every last drop of dog fluid from testes which quivered under Helena's tail. She thought back, remembering all those spurts of canine semen. She could not exactly hide her stomach from the world's attention, still less could she disguise that her pups (assuming there would be pups) would evidently not be one hundred percent husky. Even more immediately, Tonrar would smell the heady scent of another dog on his prized bitch. But supposing she did raise Bookie's litter? Sure, she would have to train harder on her return to regain her legendary fitness. Even then, pups did not mean the end of a career, by any means. Now though came the anxious wait, two weeks at least, before they knew for certain.

"What's the matter?" Bookie licked the husky's nose. "Maybe Helena is not that ruthless after all. But she does remember why she visited Bookie? Now that was devious. And if one asks Bookie what he thinks, Tonrar does not deserve lovely mate like Helena. Still, all this evening the question remains: will Helena be daring enough to leave camp, to make that leap? And then seeing gorgeous sled dog on doorstep..."

But Helena laid a claw cross his muzzle. "No more words. Let's just wait until you soften up, then I can get out of here."

"Helena..."

"Just... I don't want to hear about it. What's done is done."

Bookie paused at her abruptness, but nodded all the same. "Very well." He stretched open his arms, and the husky accepted his embrace.

And so the evening came to an end with the two canines, pedigree on mongrel, entwined in each other's arms. Occasionally one or both dogs would wince as their connection twinged, but they soon settled into regular panting breaths, neither daring to break the silence here in the fire-lit tavern, each lost in their own thoughts and listening only to the crackling fire inside and the whipping wind beyond the walls and in the town. Every now and again, Bookie would give an experimental tug, only to be met with resistance and a pained growl from the husky. However, one tug did succeed in dislodging Bookie's knot from its shelter. Helena gasped at the canine arousal slipping from her sex for the final time that evening.

"There we go..." the street dog growled under his breath, while lifting the husky's rump to draw the rest of his meat from within her. She huffed a little when Bookie was free from her confines. However she did not move straightaway, and instead, she stared over Bookie's snout, her gaze unfocused and her paws crossed. Down below, liquid dog ran from her treasure, right down the fur of her thighs. Despite her bulk, Bookie was in no hurry to move the sled dog from her resting place.

"Helena wants to stay the night?"

The sled dog shook her head. Bookie moved to embrace her again, but she pushed him away and lay by his side. Instead she stared across the room, paws crossed, watching the flicker from the little oil-filled lamp. Bookie let her stare, and dragged his claws through Helena's pelt, neatening her fur, and she shivered beside him. He decided not to harass the husky further, instead leaving her with her thoughts. However first, as his final gesture before they rose from bed and parted ways, he leant over, catching her nose with a little lick.

"Bookie is proud of you. My champion."

By Ziegenbock