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"This'll be due by the 21st. Happy Sam Ha- Sorry, Harvest Feast!"

The doe's ears retreated at the indifferent gaze from the vixen, while her stout kit merrily snatched a pawful of the Fleece's Pieces from the plastic bowl.

A full hour in and Cindy was already starting to long for the alarm on her Carrot phone to go off, and she could retreat to the break room.

The persistent serenity of the lobby, however, was enough to keep her tolerant of this tedious job.

Throughout shifts like these, she often ignored her monotony by picturing the hell house her mate must experience at the Amazoo warehouse. The occasional complaints of a kit in this building seemed preferable over the grating noise of forklifts or the risk of even minor cuts while slicing tape.

"M'aam?"

"Wh-Oh! Sorry..." Cindy's ears shrunk again at the discriminating glare of a brunette buck.

Her blood started to mildly simmer from his condescending expression as she scanned his softcovers and CD.

"This'll be due by the 21st. Happy Harvest Feast." She stated in a lower tone than to her previous visitor.

Observing the buck simply take his things and leave, she wanted to apologize for her apathetic manners. He didn't do her any harm.

Still, Cindy slightly shuddered as her customer's glance persisted in her mind, changing into the lukewarm expression of Ronald Cervinal.

Great Prince above, Ronald Cervinal...

She grumbled at his stone-cold "OK"s whenever she declared her affinity for the works of Jules Fern or Roarbert Louis Stevenson.

She cringed at the moment he interrupted their first tour through the Savannah Public Library to polish his antlers.

She nearly failed to keep herself from weeping as she recalled the last time she saw his still-neutral face when he "promised" to make up for his supposedly booked agenda.

But then she thought of Stephan.

She remembered the first time she demonstrated the complex organizations of the books here, then giggled at the number of cheesy 90s action flicks he took from the dvd section.

Whether they were natural disaster thrillers (figurative and literal) that tended to take scientific liberties, dystopian sci-fi films that were a little too ambitious with future predictions (ie: one of them was released in 1995, yet took place in 2005), or pure copycats of "Die Herd", Cindy volunteered to sit through these dated films as long as she got to nuzzle against his fluffy chest (and see some intrinsically riveting fight scenes).

Right then and there, Cindy detected the familiar tune of "Star Trot: The Next Generation" from her pocket, then grinned once she turned it off and glanced at her custom phone screen portraying a luminous pale moon.

Finally, she could spend an hour away from these judgemental patrons, and with the many families that resided in her private inventory of wolf history encyclopedias or folk-tale compilations.

The doe still shed tears at the numerous tales of Alphas who risked their lives to proclaim their love for a lower-class mammal, to rescue an abducted pup, or to resign from any criminal behavior.

Whoever Stephan's father was, Cindy grew more anxious to meet him snout-to-snout, and hear him spin his yarn about preventing the burglary of a collar shop, or saving a mammal or two from drowning.

Her periods of silence shifted into instances of chuckling, when she envisioned Ronald again. That cocky buck at the front of a line with rumpled clothes, uneven antlers, and a pair of glossy eyes begging to "let him back in her herd".

She'd scoff and reply "Sorry, but I'm already part of a pack..."

As he fastened the parcel over the television screen, Stephan regarded the concrete ground, confirming that his tail was nowhere near the corner that he was raising.

While lugging the TV through the halls of mixed products, the wolf observed the countless heaps of amber cardboard, no doubt reserved for the impending demands of early Yule gifts.

Despite the days of bearing chairs, consoles, audio speakers, and dressers, he envisioned the smile on the snouts of each and every client the merch was being shipped to.

Stephan finally planted the box on the yellow conveyor belt, and watched it travel up to the opening where it was to be stored on one of many vans.

"OK, that's our quota gents!"

The canine lightly gasped at the volume of the announcement from a beaver in orange, and swabbed the sweat from his brow while reclining.

He traced back to the lines of packets, emulating the lions, elephants, buffalos, and bears hiking through the vast building to their respective offices.

The wolf inhaled the serene scent of his room, before setting his eyes on the desk with a miniature BLOCKO Z-Wing Fighter, and a Chewbarka bobblehead.

After seating himself, Stephan tugged out his Carrot phone, and opened the message that occupied the space-themed backdrop.

*"Told the boss about our trip. Said I can clock out early to prepare for next week! See you home, Fluff-Cake!"*

The gray canine beamed at the two fur-coated hearts next to the text.

Whenever he packed a DVD with a poster depicting the likes of Jack Savage, Harrison Furd, Kurt Roarssell, Jean-Claude Van-Hamme, or Sylvester Stallione, he'd reminisce on the nights he'd curl up with his redhead doe and watch one of these ambitious, yet often low-quality action flicks.

Even if she dozed off halfway through, he'd grip her hips, and slide her closer to his lavish tuft of fur, inciting a light sigh and a grin from her.

Stephan chuckled as he recalled the day she toured him around her workplace in its entirety.

The day he picked out "All Paws In The Cart", a random "Die Herd" knock-off for his weekly inventory, only to place it back once he considered the criticism surrounding the film's less-than-flattering portrayal of Bambians.

Despite Cindy's insistence that she wouldn't care how a "popcorn movie" portrayed her culture, the wolf's suspicions were confirmed that evening when she snout-palmed at Dustin Howlman's phony accent.

Stephan never bothered to join his associates whenever they brought a PlayBunny on break, or chat up the latest suggestive rumors surrounding Gazelle. He'd just anticipate returning home to hear Cindy's angelic voice, and see her humble freckled face.

His smile diminished, however, when he studied his mate's text again, contemplating the context of it.

While his own father was far from perfect, Stephan equally dreaded the cold, disapproving look that Cindy's father could give at having a savage for a son-in-law. A look he had accustomed to as far back as the original Night Howler Crisis, and that he still occasionally encountered to this day.

He even had rare nights where his dreams of loafing with his "dear deer" were halted by the grim tone of an older buck, regardless of whether they were watching a movie, bowling, having a picnic, or most embarrassingly, making love in the meadow.

What made it worse was that, unlike wolves, deer were unable to part from their family under such drastic circumstances.

The wolf cringed at his increasingly pessimistic prospects, and attempted to picture the rosier image of his radiant hoofed companion adorned in a pearly wedding gown.

He also tried to alleviate himself with the prospect of exploring Cervine County, the more secluded, forested corner of the Meadowlands where her family resided, with the intent of spotting potential homes to settle in.

Furthermore, he recalled the sparse dates where they discussed her family's diverse, yet equally paramount professions.

Her father's quest to help his client defend the validity of controlled cat nip in the Tundratown court, her mother's struggles to save countless incapacitated mammals in the Forest Prince Medical Center, her brother's heartfelt speech about achieving true enlightenment with the "Great Prince of The Forest" at the Cervine County Methodist Church, and even the one day he and Cindy refrained from frolicking to honor her late cousin's services in the Zootopian military.

In retrospect, Stephan was fairly intrigued by Cindy's current, less ambitious role as a librarian, and her similarly modest intentions to teach ballet in the future, once they've established a home other than an apartment. Whatever position she took, he was happy that she was Cindy Doeson.

The grey wolf's optimism persisted through the following week, often boosted by his "dear deer's" enthusiastic greetings when he returned from his shifts, and mellowed by their evening activities.

Monday, Wednesday and Friday, he arrived to find her on the couch with some form of comfort food on her lap and one of his DVDs in the player. Tuesday and Thursday, he helped her practice ballet in the spare bedroom with nothing but her slippers. Saturday, they visited the Sahara Shores to relish in the remaining warm days until winter, and on Sunday, he accompanied his dainty red-haired doe at the Rainforest District mall, where they scouted for a second game controller and a new pack of Bambian underwear for winter.

While they'd undergo the occasional argument, like whether to watch "Pirats Of The Caribbean" or binge "The Hound Wars" on the weekend, or whether it was appropriate to change at the exact line between the Sahara Shores and the Naturalist Beach, Stephan was secretly glad they were distracting themselves from the inevitable family meetings.

It wasn't until the 10th of November that the canine's anxiety returned, when he opened the door to 273 to find the white-tailed doe straightening the piles of clothes in her luggage while humming a soft tune.

While he was slightly calmed by the soothing tone in her voice as she helped him pack his own items, his heart continued to sink from the weight of his daunting expectations. Not even their 90s action pick managed to assuage him.

Cindy opened her eyes to witness the rays of the full moon still reflected on their sheets, eerily similar to the moonlight that immersed her in her latest dream.

She and Stephan had been granted their lunar tattoos, and they joined their canine audience in performing a final "group howl" in the serene nighttime under her family chapel.

With their marked paws united, and her eyes glimmering with a flood of tears, Cindy brought his other arm around her torso, then planted a kiss on the snout of her big grey ball of yarn. She was officially a part of his pack.

The ginger doe emitted a mellow sigh as her mind returned to reality.

Her poofy pearly gown was now the same slim baby-blue nightie, and her groom's snappy black attire was reduced to nothing but his white and blue striped boxers.

Cindy gave a mischievous giggle at the side view of Stephan's bare top form and each strand of his fur rising and receding with every silent breath he took.

She dragged the hem of the sheet back to her neck, and slithered closer to his spine.

The doe remembered how annoyed she used to be on their first few nights together, when she'd be woken by his colossal torso toppling onto her. Now with winter rapidly approaching, she spent every waking second of their nights awaiting this clumsy routine, awaiting him to trap her in his thicket of plushiness, and keep her there until it nearly felt like summer again.

But her mood dropped once she only heard a fragile whine from the canine, and noticed his fur shrink in succession.

She peeked over his shoulder to find his eyes still open and his snout formed into a frown.

"Is something wrong?"

The following silence instilled a hint of guilt into the doe, until Stephan finally took a deep breath.

"I'm fine... Just thinkin' 'bout the trip."

Cindy caressed the patch of fur that encased his neck in an attempt to console him.

"Same here." She scooted a couple inches as he reclined his back onto the sheets, then returned to his shoulder.

"Excited to see Cervine County? The sweet autumn breeze, the crisp golden leaves, the chirps of birds, the rows of strong trees, and the fresh water from the lakes?"

Her legs escaped from the stuffy sheets, and danced about in the air as her hooves twirled on his chest fur.

She pictured her canine companion waltzing with her in the spot of the forest that extended to her family home, accompanied only by the few raining leaves of fall and the wind tickling their fur.

The deer's imagination vanished as she watched his snout change from a frown to a soft smile, then a less discernible expression.

She eventually pulled back from his neck tuft once he emitted another sigh.

"I guess." The wolf twiddled his claws across his opposite palm.

"You guess?"

"I dunno. I'm just nervous about our family visits."

"Stephan, I swear, it'll be fun."

"What if your family doesn't like me? And what if my dad doesn't like you?"

"Why doesn't your dad like prey?"

Stephan lingered on his side of the mattress after Cindy's question.

"Because he was laid off from his old job during the whole 'night howler' thing."

The doe merely froze in her spot as if she were face-to-face with the headlights of a car.

"Oh."

She finally slid the silk cover back to her bosom after her lengthy pause.

"Well, Stephan, whatever happens, I want you to make a promise."

The wolf turned to face his mate's gleaming sapphire eyes, and her cinnamon braid that was displayed by the rays of the moonlight.

He sensed her hoof crawling up to his paw, both from the outline under the sheets and from the elegant texture that brushed him.

As Cindy inhaled the latest gust of their air conditioning, she detected her Fluff-Cake's digits shifting between hers.

".... Please promise me you won't split from your pack."

Stephan's ears receded at her request, and he tightened his hold on her palm.

"I know that it's only a last resort in many cases like this, but there's no reason to leave your family because of me."

The doe took another breath after her whisper, contemplating possible responses from her hairy sweetheart.

"OK. I promise."

Her heart soared at his plain answer, and the intense climate under the sheets were alleviated by her petite tail beginning to wag.

"Thanks Stephan." She gazed at his flaming auburn eyes, and his radiant canines growing into a smile, before finally returning her hooves to his bare chest.

The wolf's tail throbbed between his legs, helping his white-tailed mate in soothing the stuffy gap in their bed.

"No matter what your dad thinks, or what my family thinks, we'll soon be tied together for life."

As the cuddly canine let out a long, tender growl, Cindy smirked at the increasing radiance beneath his face.

She shifted her hoof digits closer to the fluffy forest around his neck, then back to his delicate belly that nearly matched her own form.

The freckled cervine repeated this pattern at a rising speed, gradually inducing him to stretch open his jaws, roll out his tongue, and begin to rapidly huff in happiness.

Stephan surrendered the hem of the sheets to idly paw at the air, as if he were still a pup playing with a new toy.

Cindy snickered at her lover's goofy demeanor, and the practically chilling temperature his tail-wagging was causing in bed. Even after she stopped her fervent rubbing, the wolf refused to change his cheerful pose, not that she wanted him to.

On top of her Fluff-Cake's reformed mood, the doe began to entertain the notion of interacting with her soon-to-be father-in-law.

Whatever seeds of doubt Stephan's description may have planted in her were replaced with potential scenarios that could play out for her to earn his dignity.

These ranged from excelling in a wolf-oriented sport like howling, bird-hunting or paw-wrestling to bonding over a favorite book or movie.

Amid her ambitions, Cindy overlooked her companion leisurely stretching his torso, arms and legs, then turning his front toward her side of the bed.

It wasn't until she was already trapped under his figure that she turned her attention back to Stephan's slumber.

This particular timberwolf may be lean, but the doe was still fruitless in her attempts, past and present, to free herself from his drowsy grip.

Yet despite her initial annoyance, Cindy lustfully grazed her top teeth on her bottom lip once Stephan's snout poked into her loose braid.

In contrast to the persisting breeze from her lover's tail swishing, the freckled cervine's body warmed up as she felt her hair band being tugged further and further away from her head.

A few more nudges later, her mane was freed from the elastic ring, with the canine's button nose in its place.

The dainty doe finally let out a string of giggles as Stephan took more fervent whiffs of her coconut-vanilla-scented hair while gradually unraveling the tail.

Cindy's light laughter was replaced with a deep satisfied moan, giving her Paw-Pie his own chance to chuckle. While doing so, he raised his lid an inch above his iris to peek at the vast wave of ginger he helped unleash, prompting a blush and a twitter from his mate.

Once he shut his eyes again and switched to merely nipping her neck, Cindy's feral instinct challenged her to have the playful pooch delve further into lewdness.

The young doe only neglected these notions, both for the sake of reserving enough energy to relish in their vacation, and for the sake of intensifying their eventual excitement on their wedding night.

She did, however, allow her mind to return to the glowing orange sanctuary that was her family's backyard, her loose blanket of hair now waving with the autumn breeze.

Her companion's paws caught her with every elegant dip she took to the ground, like this was no more than another night of ballet practice.

Cindy couldn't even feel the mattress of their bed. Only the coat of her partner against her muzzle, and the tips of his filed claws that brushed against her spine.

"I love you Stephan Doeson..." Was the only thing she could utter in her romantic trance.

He brought her face closer to his until their snouts touched.

"I love you, Cindy Lupito..."

To be continued...