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The house was gone. The fire front was days past, but the heat and smoke remained above its trail of scorched earth. Smoke hung thick, tightening the lungs and tinting the early afternoon an acrid yellow-orange. A layer of ash paved the streets and carpeted blackened lawns. The houses in the area -- mostly weatherboard, and built right up against the bush -- had all but disappeared, leaving little more than foundations in outline, like chalk silhouettes at a crime scene. What pieces that remained were strewn about haphazardly. Sheets of roofing iron lay rent and twisted as if they were no more than tissue-paper. A few chunks of brick wall still stood, cracked into pieces from the heat. Everything was blasted to an even ashen grey colour.

The four of them stood without moving for another minute or so, taking in the destructive scene. It was hard to believe that the family home could be reduced to ashes quite so thoroughly, as though through the deliberate actions of some meticulous deity. The street was near unrecognisable, the whole scene so alien it felt like they'd taken a wrong turn into some hellish alternate reality.

His mother stood with her arms crossed and her mouth set into a hard line. It was an expression he recognised well, from her long arguments with his father -- while he was still around -- or from her reaction to his dropping out of university. Not that he blamed the collie, precisely; she has always had the best intentions, trying to make the most out of difficult situations.

His sister was leaning on her boyfriend's shoulder, a slight, sad smile grazing her black-and-white muzzle, and the hints of tears in her eyes.

Nick walked closer. He could still summon a clear mental picture of the house: Here was the verandah and front door, then the hallway, and off to either side the bedrooms. It simply didn't fit with the reality he was seeing before him.

Carefully stepping around the debris, he made his way over to the edge of his bedroom. If he shut his eyes he could picture the way it was. In the scene before him, though, there was barely anything recognisable left. That large blackened lump was probably what remained of his bed frame, the slightly smaller one his desk. He didn't know why he had been expected anything different.

He felt another pang of loss and regret. All that time he had spent interstate and overseas in the last few years, only rarely coming back home to visit, always with the unspoken assumption that he could come back if he wanted to. Now what had promised to be a family reunion before Christmas had turned into something else entirely. A eulogy for a house; for an entire street.

"They'll grow back, you know. Some of them." It took Nick a moment to realise his mother was referring to the surrounding trees. The bush had always been close to the houses here, a dense subtropical bush with gums and laurels growing above a thick undergrowth. Normally at this time it was filled with the raucous sounds of the local birdlife, as parrots and cockatoos searched out the flowering trees. Now, the blackened trunks stood on as silent sentinels. The ocean was peeking out from behind the bare trees, where it never used to be seen, made a muddy grey by the strangely filtered light. "Come spring, they'll be covered head to toe in leaves."

Their mother was right. Many of the trees would survive, and come spring would be covered head to toe in bushy green leaves, trunks included, already beginning to re-seed. Fire was a fact of life around here: the trees had to be resilient. The people, too, he supposed.

Eva spoke up, perhaps trying to lighten the mood a little. "Come spring, the houses might be re-growing too."

"Oh, it won't be the same." The older collie's tone was more pensive that dismissive. "They don't allow you to build this close to the bush anymore. Maybe for good reason. And not everyone wants to stay. I've already talked to some who want to take the insurance money and get out of here. Better work in Sydney or Melbourne, they say. Hell, even Canberra."

Nick wasn't sure what to say to that. He hadn't asked yet whether they would try to rebuild. Internally, he had kind of assumed that they would, but suddenly that seemed like a less sure thing. He had moved out, so had his sister. Who were they rebuilding for? In some ways it wasn't his decision anymore, since he no longer lived there. He hadn't asked whether his father knew, either, but he wasn't about to raise that particular topic.

Suddenly he just wanted to get away from it all, get away from the reality he was being faced with. There wasn't anything more to say, really, and even in this time of shared grief he felt strangely isolated from the rest of his family. He had only been away for two years, but it felt like far longer.

He murmured a comment about being back later, and found himself following the track that ran down the headland. It looked completely different of course, but it didn't matter. The contour of the hillside was the same, and he had been up and down this track enough that the shape, every rise and fall, was innately familiar.

The sea views had never been this good with all that bush in the way, he thought bitterly. If he closed his eyes, he could almost hear the susurrus of thousands of leaves shifting in the wind above the waves, and the high piercing calls of the whip-birds above the drone of cicadas.

He was getting closer to the water now. The sound of the swell, which had previously been a gentle background static, was becoming more noticeable with each step. Despite that, though, it was unusually quiet. There were no insects, no cicadas droning, no freshly woken wallabies bouncing away through the undergrowth. Nothing except the soft tread of his paws on the carpet of ash and singed leaves.

Just up ahead, the track descended steeply into a small gully, and then climbed up the other side. The stream at the base of the gully emptied out onto a tiny beach. When he got to the edge of the gully, he had to stop and take in the green.

It seemed that the fire had stopped dead in its tracks, sparing the stand of trees the flame, through some whim of fate or changing wind, or the wet greenery of this particular section. It was almost jarring to be back in a stand of trees again, however small. There was still no fauna visible, but there didn't need to be for it to feel alive.

Without really thinking, Nick dropped down into the gully and followed the stream to where it met the sea, stepping out onto the sand. The inlet was too small to have an official name, but Nick had always known it as little cove. Did it still count as an estuary if you could step across it?

The beach, if it could even be called that, was no more than a dozen metres of sand, bordered on one side by the steep rock face that made up one wall of the gully, and on the other by a lower outcropping of rocks that extended several metres into the water, where it sheltered a veritable forest of kelp.

The thought gave him a brief lift. He could clearly remember diving in the clear water, watching the fronds away back and forth with the swell, looking for scarlet crabs in the cracks between the rocks. They'd start at the beach all day, then come back at night at sit around a driftwood fire, talking and drinking booze someone brought from somewhere, watching the multicoloured flames pop and dance, the light flickering and playing across the sand. The dull roar of the ocean was ever-present, the soundtrack to his youth.

Simpler times. He knew it was a common feeling, to long for those younger summers, when the world was only as big as the town, and problems were even smaller. But he felt it now more than ever, now that the physical vestiges of his childhood had been so thoroughly razed. Before it had felt like he had left that history behind, but temporarily, that when he came back there would be pieces of it still there, waiting for him. Now there was nought but scorched earth and ancient history. Walking down that path had been like a funeral procession for his youth. Was this remembrance the elegy?

Of course, that wasn't true either. The fact was that people had grown up, moved out, changed. In a small town like this, change came slowly, but inexorably all the same. He could never get those days back, fire or no. No one could.

He'd been caught in a rip once, when he was still pretty young. All the water that the swell pounded into a beach had to go somewhere, flowing back out to sea in narrow but strong currents, laden with foam and disturbed sand. It was a harrowing experience, to feel the sandy bottom suddenly slightly out of reach, and the relentless pull into the ocean growing stronger. It was a total loss of control, an acquiescence to the raw power of nature. He almost fancied that it was a little like what he had felt when he gazed upon the ruin of his old house for the first time.

He suddenly noticed a figure in the water, swimming a brisk freestyle round the headland towards him. In fact, as the figure dress closer, he thought he recognised her. And as she waded in, and more and more tan-coloured fur emerged from the break, his suspicions were confirmed.

Jess was short for a lioness, but lithe, with a swimmer's body. Her eyes were a piercing gold, and she was wearing a two-piece swimsuit below her slight smile.

Before he could think of what to say, she spotted him and called out with a wide grin, "The fuck are you doing here?"

He got up and started to walk over to meet the lioness, tail wagging behind him. "Been a while, Jess."

"It fucking has, hasn't it. Two years, just about." She shook, then jogged up to him, still dripping and panting slightly. "I'd hug you, but..." She gestured vaguely at her own sopping fur.

"Pfff, you think I really care?" He closed the rest of the distance between them and pulled her close, surprising himself slightly with the strength of his embrace. Turns out he did really need a hug. She quickly returned the favour, resting her head on his shoulder and purring softly. Who cared about a wet shirt anyway. It was nice to just hold someone, and be close.

Her scent was pleasantly familiar, not quite obscured over that of the smoke and sea. There was a hint of something more, too, a subtle sweetness that tickled the back of his nostrils. Also familiar. Was she in season? Surely she was taking suppressants. Maybe some of the less intense drugs, or something -- Nick had heard plenty of complaints about how the stronger suppressants messed with hormones and led to all sorts of ill-effects. He was glad he'd never had to deal with that kind of thing.

After a long moment, they pulled back. Jess moved over to where Nick had been and sat down, smooth rock face at her back. "So. Back from overseas, huh? Finally found yourself, or whatever?" Her tone was teasing as usual. It was at once jarring and oddly refreshing to hear her banter.

Despite his mood he couldn't help but try to respond in kind. "Don't know if I found much over there besides new types of giardia."

Even as the words left his muzzle, he thought the joke fell a bit flat. Or maybe it was just him that was flat. Jess still chuckled, though. "Well, I've found you now."

"Mmm. I've only been in town three hours and you've sniffed me out already."

She punched him lightly, making a face. "Little cove is just a nice distance from the bay. And it's one of the only little pockets along the coast that hasn't been burned down. Sitting here, you can almost pretend that everything's still as it was. Didn't think I'd find you here. Small towns, huh." She looked over at him, expression becoming more serious. "I suppose you've been up at the house."

He chuckled bitterly, looking down at the sand. What house. "There's... not much left."

"Yeah. Shit, I know... Lot of people in the same boat. Shit." She leaned back.

He tried to find a positive angle. "Your old place should be fine, right? Up Northside way seemed to have escaped, mostly? And what about that new place you're moving into?" Last he texted her, she had plans to move into a subdivided house nearby.

"Oh, new place is fine. It's out of the firing line for now. Our house, on the other hand, was a bit close for comfort. The fire managed to pass us by, somehow. A change in the wind, whatever. Dad and I had the sprinklers going, and were ready with the the hose. But fuck, when it got pitch black and you could see the tops of the flames over on that little hill to the south, and hear the... roar, even from 3 kilometres away... Scared the shit out of me."

"Don't blame you. It's risky, trying to defend." He paused for a second. "I know you already know, but... just saying there's never any shame in leaving."

"Yeah. Had that lesson drilled home after, ah, you remember Danny Bateman? Few years above us?"

Barely. "Ah, maybe? Mutt, right? His younger sister works at the IGA?"

"Yeah, that's him. Pretty nice guy, actually. Used to give me a lift to track practice." She paused for a few seconds, considering her phrasing. "He tried to defend and ah, didn't make it."

"Shit." Nick wasn't quite sure what to say. He felt a little guilty that he could barely remember anything about the kid, and that he struggled to summon up more than a small pang of sadness at his passing. Why did it seem to have so little impact? Was he really that emotionally drained? A house was nothing compared to a life. And hell, he didn't even live there anymore, he hadn't for some years.

They said nothing for a while. After a while Jess started to lean against Nick's shoulder. Soon after that, he noticed her gently purring. It was all too easy to return the affection, to put an arm around her and stroke her side.

You always knew you got on with someone when you could just sit with them in companionable silence, without any awkwardness or discomfort. Sometimes, nothing more needed to be said. It was enough to simply co-exist, understanding each other's presence and enjoying it; tacitly.

They had known each other from a young age, and had an especially close and easy-going friendship. They'd met at surfing classes, paddling out on the massive foam boards about as long as both of them put together to the moderate swell at the local beach. She'd been precocious then as always, quickly getting into a rivalry with him over who could stand up first, then who could master the biggest waves.

A lot of his best memories had her playing a lead role, morphing between protagonist and antagonist. They did disagree, argue, even fight occasionally, especially during their hormone-filled teenage years. But those conflicts never lasted. They always ended up back together again, although the exact nature of relationship had been often hard to pin down.

They shared their first sexual experience, a somewhat confused but sweet addendum to a movie-night sleepover at his old house. He smiled at the memory. Neither of them had known what to do with the blankets, which had been contaminated with evidence of their illicit affair, so Nick had hidden them in his room and then snuck them into the washing machine after his mother had started it. In hindsight, their attempts at secrecy were probably hopelessly inadequate. Their parents weren't stupid.

That initial relationship lasted a few years -- quite an achievement, he supposed, given their age at the time. After a while though, things slowed down a little between them, and after one particular argument he still had a vivid memory of, they reached an agreement that they would start to see other people. Of course, after a little cooling down, they were still close friends. This was the arrangement through most of high-school, though they had some flings, including a few of questionable fidelity.

She could sometimes seem insensitive or flippant to those who didn't know her -- she certainly hadn't been too popular with the teaching staff at the local high school -- but Nick found her easy to get along with. In many ways, perhaps counter-intuitively, her bluntness and sarcasm made her more honest and genuine than most. She was smart, and almost too precocious. Which was why he had been so surprised when she stayed in their hometown after graduating school.

She said it was because she didn't get any decent scholarships, which may or may not have been true. Privately, Nick wondered if that was the whole story. She was studying entirely online, at one of those slightly less well-thought-of universities that offered that kind of course. Computer science, or something in that vein, he didn't really have much of a clue in that area. Actually, wasn't she finishing up about now?

He broke the companionable silence. "How's your course been going? Nearly done?"

"Mmm. Yeah, should graduate next semester. It's been good, actually. Already been sounding out a few companies for a junior dev position."

"That's sounding promising. You still enjoying it?"

"Yeah. For the most part."

"That's sweet." Of course, she couldn't easily ask the same of him. He'd seemingly got what he wanted: a good degree at a great university. Yet he couldn't bring himself to finish it. So that had gone by the wayside, and after saving for six months he'd headed out of the country again, partly for the experience, partly for something to do. It had certainly been enjoyable, and worthwhile, and all those words, but there was no getting around the fact that he was coming back without a job, and without a degree.

Jess, meanwhile, seemed to have everything working out. Nearly finished her degree, still staying at her parents place right now but moving out soon. She had held a steady job at the local pub, the Cart and Horse, since the tail-end of school. It was a name redolent of a classic continental establishment -- or a caricature of one, at least, replete with dark wood panelling and narrow windows split by zinc cames. It was perhaps -- definitely -- ill-fitting the long, low, 70s concrete and breeze-block building it represented. Still, who cared. Certainly not the locals; the same beer was on tap and the same regulars lounged around the bar regardless of what was printed on the sign.

Nick just couldn't shake the feeling that he had... failed somehow. Taken a wrong turn somewhere, in choosing his degree, in dropping out. And despite staying in this small town, the one they always used to joke about being a dead-end, Jess had found her way. Maybe there was something to be said for small towns, after all.

It was the heat that drew his attention back to the present. Even without direct sunlight, it was stifling. Temperatures were pushing forty Celsius once more, and the hot, dry wind made spending time outside somewhat like sitting an oven. As good a way as any to change the subject. "It's still so fucking hot, isn't it? So much for the forecast of a cool change."

She murmured agreement. Then, a moment later, "Why don't you have a swim?"

He was still wearing jeans from the flight over. "I'm not exactly dressed for it."

"Exactly. You're far too dressed, period. Strip, pup." She was getting that glint in her eye, one that he remembered only too well.

He looked at her levelly. "Really?"

"Why not? It's not like there's anyone around." Her smirk made a reappearance. "Besides, it's hardly your first time in a birthday suit."

"I mean pretty much every other... no, every other time I was drunk, and it was some ungodly hour of the night. Or I was a kid. Kind of loses the socially-acceptable cuteness after you hit double digits, you know?" He looked at her, slightly exasperated. "Besides, what if my sister decides she wants a swim too?"

"I'm sure she'd appreciate the view." When that failed to get a reaction, she continued. "Oh, come on. Where's your sense of adventure gone?" She tilted her head slightly, with a certain spark in her gaze, a kind of hunger that he began to feel mirrored in himself.

He wavered. She was right, younger him would probably be in the water already. Not that that was necessarily a strong recommendation. "Alright, fine. As long as you join me."

"Course. Besides, I'm already halfway there." She poked her tongue out at him. "You've got some catching up to do."

She was incorrigible. Ignoring the latter comment, he took off his shirt, then stood up and unzipped his jeans, shimmying them down and dropping them to the sand. His boxers quickly followed suit, and suddenly he was standing before her completely nude.

His merle colouring around the head and shoulders gave way to a white stomach. The inside of his thighs were lined with caramel fur, which extended up until it met the thicker white fur at his groin. His sheath, thickening slightly and with the hint of a bright red tip showing from the top, was the same bright white. The bottom of his fuzzy sac had a slightly lopsided patch of caramel on the bottom, as though it had been half-dipped in paint. Jess had always found this hilarious.

Speaking of, she hadn't looked away. Quite the opposite in fact, she had been watching the display with evident interest, eyes resting between his legs for a long moment. Never a shy one, and given their history she was apparently comfortable staring.

He tried to be casual about it, resisting the urge to cover himself up with his paws, but was aware that he was probably blushing slightly. It was certainly nothing she hadn't seen before, but somehow the public context and her particularly keen gaze made him a little uncomfortable. And his slight arousal wasn't helping things. He was aware the he was showing slightly. Again, though, nothing she hadn't seen before. If Ava picked that moment to come strolling down the track, on the other hand...

As Jess was looking him up and down, she commented. "Looks like you've filled out a bit." Upon seeing his expression she hastily amended herself. "No no, not in a bad way. Filling out with muscle." She reached over and poked at his exposed stomach with a single claw, slowly trailing her way down to his navel. "See? You always used to be a little scr--slim, but now you're..." She gestured vaguely, looking away slightly. "Bigger. Fitter." Despite her tripping over her own words slightly, Nick knew what she meant. Backpacking had probably been good for him, and getting into his mid twenties he was naturally gaining a little more mass.

A few years ago he might have jokingly struck a bodybuilding pose, or made a poor-taste joke about something else being bigger. As it was, he just stood there with a slight smile, meeting her gaze. "Well?"

In response, she turned around so her back was facing him, then looked over her shoulder at him. "Mind giving me a hand?"

"Sure." He reached out and fiddled with the upper swimsuit clasp. Why did all these mechanisms have to be slightly different? Her short tan fur was exceedingly soft despite its dampness, just as soft as he remembered. Eventually figuring out the clasp, he let the thin fabric drop to the sand, then let his hands follow her contours down to her hips. "Need any more help?"

"Mmm." She throatily murmured assent, and briefly pushed her hips back against him. He became acutely aware of how far his arousal had progressed as half his length rubbed against the lower half of her swimsuit. He jerked slightly in an involuntary response, drawing in a breath. The neoprene felt rough, unpleasantly ticklish against his sensitive shaft.

Well, judging from her reaction she certainly was in heat. She had tried avoiding suppressants altogether a few times while they were together. Being an interspecies couple had its perks -- innate biological birth control was one. This inevitably led to a very interesting couple of weeks. His endurance had certainly been tested, in more ways than one.

He recognised some of that same desperate energy in her now. Looked like they wouldn't be making it into the water anytime soon. Not that he was going to complain. As he slipped her final piece of clothing down her thighs she almost jumped out of it, such was her eagerness, then immediately returned and met him in a deep kiss. He barely had time to enjoy the view: smooth curves that hinted at the muscle beneath, modest breasts that suited her sleekness, and the hint of her sex between her legs.

He was quickly distracted, though. The feel of her shorter muzzle against his own, the ticklish prickle of her whiskers, the softness of her breasts pressing into his chest his tongue flicking past the slick enamel of her canines -- it was all so achingly familiar. He could feel her tail lashing in excitement. His hands found the back of her head and the soft fur behind her rounded ears, while hers wrapped around his lower back, just above the base of his tail.

She was purring loudly now, a deep thrumming that made its way through her body into his. It, too, was familiar -- comforting.

His mind briefly flicked back to worries about being discovered, about someone coming down into the beach and chancing upon them. But, he told himself, they were somewhat hidden behind the rock outcrop. And regardless, he increasingly couldn't bring himself to care.

Her hands were starting to wander down between his legs, rubbing his fur against the grain then smoothing it back the other way as she went. Reaching his sheath, still just about containing his increasingly swollen knot, she ran her achingly soft pawpads over it and up his shaft, swirling the pre-cum already gathering around his tip.

Continuing to exchange short kisses, he reached between them to return the favour. Parting her lower lips with a single digit, he tested her arousal, and was rewarding with soft, yielding slickness. Not surprising; the air around them was already saturated with her pheromones. Well, and his own. Finding her clit was almost second nature, and so was the gentle circular rubbing. She had always preferred counter-clockwise, for some reason.

He was fully out of his sheath now, the dark red skin exposed to the air and her touch. She was slowly stroking him off in careful motions, wrapping her fingers around his knot as she reached the bottom. Then, suddenly, she let go and stepped back. "Lie down, pup."

Ah, so she wanted to be on top. He certainly didn't mind relinquishing a little control, and besides, from past experience they both knew that this position was a good way to avoid getting sand in uncomfortable places.

He lay down flat against the sand, and she quickly straddled him, hot-dogging him for a second before reaching a hand down to rest his tip against her folds. Leaning back, she started to slip down his cock. The feel of that slick warmth was divine, and he couldn't help but buck underneath her, driving another inch into blissful softness.

She made a cute noise somewhere between a moan and a growl, and paused her descent for a second. "You're... an eager little pup, aren't you?"

Almost as if she was trying to outmatch him, she sat fully back, taking him down to his knot in one smooth movement. He let out his breath in a pleasured sigh as she started grinding against his mostly-engorged knot. She was still so tight, and her insides twitched with every breath, adding to the glorious sensation. She was already dripping, but he was still adding more jets of pre-cum to their combined fluids, which were starting to leak out over his lap.

"Are... are you trying to tie?" It was almost too late, given he was nearing full arousal, but still possible. Whether it was rational was another question, and one left completely by the wayside.

A throaty growl was his response. No arguing with that.

Matching her rhythm, he started to push back against her, meeting his hips to her own. It was a fast pace already, no holds barred. Neither of them felt any need to hold back. Lying back, he looked up at her, taking in the view. Her breasts were bouncing with every thrust, and her muzzle was tilted skywards, mouth open in an unvoiced moan. Seeing her body undulating over his, taking everything he had to give, was stirring something deep in his soul, a primal desire and satisfaction.

She started to pull up a few inches on each upstroke, before slamming down on his knot again on the way down, their hips meeting with a dull slap. He could feel her just starting to loosen up, her entrance stretching around the top of his knot, not quite able to make it past his thickness.

Their tempo kept increasing. On the next stroke he pulled her hips down with his hands as he bucked up savagely into her, finally hilting his entire length inside her glorious heat. She let out a long moan at that, matching his own deep growl. Thrusting as deep as he could, he marked her as his own. His knot was swelling further, locking them together, bringing them closer to the inevitable conclusion. He could barely pull out anymore, his thrusts more grinding his length within her than anything else, but that was more than enough.

He could feel his peak approaching fast, and judging by her frantic motions Jess wasn't far behind. Hammering home the final few thrusts, he barely suppressed a howl as he was overcome by orgasm. The world fell away, and he was left awashed in pure pleasure. He lost all control, jerking wildly beneath her, filling her with his warmth, toes clenching and unclenching.

He was starting to slow just as her grinding reached a crescendo and she shuddered, bracing herself against his chest, her cunt convulsing around him with a drawn out moan. He watched as she rode out her peak, eyes shut and muzzle scrunched. All the while he was still twitching, leaking more and more seed into her, trapped by the tie.

Eventually she collapsed against his chest, wrapping her arms around him and nestling her muzzle into his longer neck fur. He let his head roll back against the sand, staring up past her cute little ear into the orange, Armageddon sky, as they settled into the afterglow.

He might have lost some of his past, but there was still at least still one part -- one living, breathing, crucial part -- that he could yet embrace. And maybe together they could help create each other's future.

"You know, I was thinking."

"Mmm?"

"I might hang around here for a bit. A few months, at least. That new place of yours wouldn't happen to have space for two, would it?"

She put on a faux-reluctance. "Well, there's only one bedroom..." Pausing, she licked his muzzle and snuggled further into his chest. "But I think I might be able to squeeze you in."

---

Woo, first story published on SF! This was more of a challenge to write than I expected. I'm a slow writer, and prone to obsessively rewriting things. I had set myself the challenge of entering a story in the current competition partly as motivation to push through these things, and I made it, though it was down to the wire. As a result, this is a somewhat rough piece: it hasn't had much substantial revision done, just a relatively brief once-over.

I'm not entirely sure what's causing a random newline in the 5th paragraph, but whatever it is I can't seem to get rid of it.

Hopefully it was a fun read -- please do drop a fave or a comment if you enjoyed, or if you have any feedback!