FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Fox Cunt

Chapter 47

Jonathan halted to see Etienne, as beside him, the Afghan Shepherd looked on in confusion. He passed his rifle off to the flustered Afghan, ignoring his scramble to catch it as he came to Etienne, his eyes round. "What . . . the bloody hell are you doing here?"

"I was about to ask you the same thing," Etienne returned angrily and indicated the limp vixen in his arms with a nod.

Jonathan's face slowly creased in a scowl and he shook his head. "Somehow someway . . . you're always spoiling things."

"And you're always spoilt," Etienne returned.

Jonathan adjusted his gloves and nodded at the vixen as he pulled a skinning knife from his boot. "Alright, give her to me."

Etienne stared at him. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

Jonathan looked at him in amazement. "I'm going to skin it, you fool. That's what you do with a fox --"

"Go fuck yourself, Jonathan," Etienne said flatly. "You incredibly foul --"

"Give her to me, Etienne!" Jonathan repeated. "Have you completely lost your senses? As if his majesty the prince never participated in the Hunt! The damn things have their heads mounted in your father's trophy room."

Etienne tensed. "Shut up about my father, or so help me --"

"Give her to me!" Jonathan burst.

"No!"

Jonathan's chest heaved. Behind him, the Afghan looked on the argument with his mouth hanging open, his eyes going back and forth between the marquis and the prince. Something finally clicked in his mind, and he ran to Etienne, fell to his knees, and touched his forehead to the stone dais, crying in wonder, "My prince! Your majesty, forgive me! I didn't realize!"

Jonathan stuck his paw on his hip and rolled his eyes. "For god's sake . . ." His lip curled and he nudged the Afghan in disgust with his boot. "Get up, Ben. You can grovel later."

The apparent Ben got sheepishly to his feet.

Jonathan's fiery eyes snapped to the prince, and a lick of his red mane escaped his ponytail to fall across his biting gaze. "Give her to me, Etienne. She's my game!"

Etienne's jaw stood out hard. "You can have her when you pry her from my cold, dead paws. Who's this idiot with you?" He looked at Ben and barked, "Bring me your horse!"

"Yes, your highness!" Ben scrambled to obey, sheepishly avoiding Jonathan's eye.

Jonathan's mouth fell open. "You dare! You dare order my servant about! I don't care if you're prince of the bloody universe -- Don't listen to him, Ben!"

Ben halted on the spot and looked back and forth between the prince and the marquis, clearly torn.

"He will damn well listen to his prince!" Etienne snarled. He looked at Ben again, "I said move!"

Ben moved.

Jonathan watched angrily as Ben brought Etienne his horse. Etienne carefully sat the vixen's limp body upright in the saddle, then he climbed up behind her and took the reins.

Jonathan finally huffed and mounted his own horse.

"Wh-What about me, m'lord?" Ben said to Jonathan. He stood looking up at him, his master's rifle on his back.

Jonathan sneered down at him from the saddle. "Walk."

Etienne and Jonathan set off through the forest, walking their horses at an even pace as Ben staggered behind on foot. They were silent for a long time, and Etienne stared straight ahead as the little vixen sagged between his arms, ignoring Jonathan's flabbergasted stare. He suddenly felt very tired and realized he hadn't slept all night -- he had spent the night in the forest with Taiga and Asres, walking miles to the shrine. And once they got to the shrine --

"You smell like pussy," Jonathan said in disgust. "Like fox pussy. It's all over you. Bloody hell." He jerked his head at the forest. "Don't tell me you've been out here living with the things. And what in god's name are you wearing? It looks like a dead cat."

Etienne glanced at him irritably. "Is it possible you could just . . . shut the hell up?"

Jonathan made an indignant noise. "I'm not the one who stinks like fox. Why are you protecting her? The moment she wakes up, she'll scratch your eyes out."

"How is it possible she's even here? I thought Crinnington was empty. Didn't the foxes die in a fire or something?"

Jonathan snorted. "Yes, they did. Thanks to your bloody father --"

"Shut up about my father," Etienne said through his fangs.

Jonathan blinked at him apologetically. He looked away. "The foxes have been getting bold. They come right into town now. Take whatever they want, kill whoever they please. Then they saunter back into the forest, la dee dah. They think their gods are coming back or some rubbish. And they aren't afraid of us anymore. The queen's gone mad. The bitch actually outlawed the Hunt -- can you believe that?"

Etienne blinked. No. He couldn't believe it.

"So we aren't allowed to kill the bloody things," Jonathan went on. "We aren't allowed to defend ourselves. Well, I say bollocks."

Etienne glanced at Jonathan derisively. "And what did this one do to you exactly? She pick your favorite flower from the garden?"

Jonathan glared at him. "She stole milk."

"Oooo. Naughty."

Jonathan's face darkened. "Laugh all you want. The foxes are getting out of control, I tell you." He shook his head. "A whole flock of them moved into Crinnington. Something is going on over at Wychowl. Maybe Donica's finally gone round the bend."

Or maybe she's not Donica, Etienne thought.

"We have peasants coming to court every day," Jonathan went on, "complaining that a fox has stolen such and such, a fox killed their cow, a fox fucked their chicken. Father is helpless to stop the damn things because of the queen's decree. And he doesn't have the balls to go against the law. Or maybe he just doesn't care." Jonathan gazed off sadly a moment, and Etienne watched him anxiously, but the marquis blinked the sadness away as quickly as it'd come and shook his head again. "Someone has to do something to help the peasants. Someone has to care. So when a farmer came to court complaining that some creature kept stealing the milk he needed to feed his pups, well . . . I decided to do something." He glared at the vixen, who muttered in her sleep.

Etienne said nothing. Listening to Jonathan go on about court and politics made his head hurt, and he wasn't looking forward to returning to that life. At all. Maybe he'd just rescue Azrian, then run away with her. Far, far away. But he knew the thought was a stupid one: there was no running from the gods.

"And I thought," went on Jonathan, "if I skinned her and gave him the pelt, he could sell it and feed his family. Would make up for all she stole from him."

"You aren't skinning her," Etienne said flatly.

Jonathan scowled. "Of course, you'd say that. You got a little tail while living down in the mud with the savages and now you think you're one of them. Now you care nothing about your own subjects --"

"That's not true."

"Isn't it? Where've you been all this bloody time then? You know everyone's been looking for you? They say you went all the way back to Wychowl with Corene, then the two of you ran away together. Just disappeared. I thought you'd eloped or something." Jonathan shook his head as he gazed straight ahead. "I didn't think you were stupid enough to go running all the way back to Crinnington."

Etienne slowly smiled. "Since when are you on a first name basis with her highness the princess? I didn't realize the two of you were so intimately familiar."

"I-I . . . that is . . ." Jonathan stammered himself silent.

Etienne was still smiling when he grabbed Jonathan's reins, and both their horses pranced to an awkward stop. A little ways behind, Ben stopped to watch them. Jonathan tried to snatch the reins back, but Etienne held on, peering with much amusement into his face. Jonathan finally looked him in the eye, defiantly ignoring it when his white cheeks began to brighten.

"Why, Jonathan!" Etienne teased.

"Shut up!" Jonathan growled, blushing even harder. He snatched the reins back and spurred his horse ahead.

Etienne easily caught up, juggling the vixen's limp body between his arms. Her head fell back against his shoulder as he pulled his horse up beside Jonathan's.

They were almost out of the forest. The trees were breaking, and Etienne could see the distant shapes of buildings, smoke chugging across the blue sky, and a windmill on a distant hill. They were almost in town. Etienne silently wondered how Duke Charles and Duke Richard were. They were likely angry that he'd run away.

"Where is she?" Jonathan asked after a while. "If she's not with you . . ."

"I don't know where Corene is, Jonathan. I haven't spoken to her in . . . months."

Jonathan stared at him. "What?"

"That wasn't me they took to Wychowl."

Jonathan slowly shook his head. "For the love of --! Not you too. First Corene taking her clothes off in the middle of the ballroom and now this." He tossed a paw.

"Taking her clothes off . . .? Never mind. I don't want to know. I'm not mad," Etienne said, rolling his eyes. "It really wasn't me."

Jonathan scowled. "I saw you. I saw them load you in the carriage kicking and screaming!"

Etienne glanced at him. "How could you have seen . . .?"

"I followed Corene when she left the manor that night. I was going to convince her to run away with me. Then I saw she'd found you. And before that she seemed determined that the two of you should marry, so I . . . went home." Jonathan shrugged unhappily. "I thought of going to Wychowl, trying to convince her . . ." He sighed. "I know. It's stupid."

"No," Etienne said quietly. "It's love."

Jonathan glanced at him, surprised by the wistfulness of his words. He looked away again and frowned. "So . . . if that wasn't you they loaded in the carriage . . ."

"I was on the ground. Getting shot."

"I remember hearing a gunshot. But I didn't see anything."

"I was behind a bush."

"Too convenient. You're lying."

"Ugh. I'm not lying, you incredible . . . boob."

Jonathan laughed. "Boob? Really?"

"I'm tired. I'll think of a better insult when I've had some rest."

"I'll say," agreed Jonathan, his eyes dancing over Etienne's face. "You've got bags under your eyes. What did those creatures_do_ to you?"

Held me captive for about six weeks, Etienne thought. "Nothing!" he snapped.

It was midday by the time they entered the town, and their horses slowed to a lazy pace, as if thankful for the familiarity of houses and fences. Ben followed along on foot, looking hot and weary after his long trek, while dogs everywhere stopped to gawk at the procession. Some recognized Jonathan on sight and bowed to him. No one recognized Etienne, and he was glad. He kept his hood pulled up and one paw on his reins. His other arm was around the vixen's slender midriff. She smelled like the milk she had stolen, and the sweet scent of her straight flowing mane filled his nostrils. She was wearing a sleeveless deerskin dress, and the neckline was so low-cut, her cleavage was pressing out of it. Her breasts jiggled with each step of the horse's hooves, and if she leaned forward, the neckline sagged open to reveal her hard pink nipples. Etienne tried to ignore the sight as he kept her balanced between his arms.

"You really don't know where Corene is?" Jonathan wondered as they rode through Howlester Manor's gates.

Etienne sighed. "Really."

"Welcome back, m'lord!" shouted the gatekeeper and bowed to them as they rode past.

Servants were waiting for them at the manor doors when they dismounted. A stable boy took their horses, and three maids came down the stairs to take their cloaks. One maid took Jonathan's cloak with a bowed head as he casually tossed it across her waiting arms. The other maids came to Etienne and stopped uncertainly: he was wearing a bear skin coat with a hood, and they didn't know how to go about taking it from him. They were also confused by his possession of a vixen: they couldn't decide if the vixen was dead or alive, or if they should take her from him. The vixen cleared up their confusion by suddenly gasping and coming awake, her large blue eyes darting frantically, and the maids gasped in return.

A very young maid squealed and took a staggering step back. "Eee! It's alive!"

"Yes," said Etienne, amused. "It's alive." He looked down at the vixen, who had gone still and was staring up at him. She blinked slowly, then looked around again, solemnly and sadly. Etienne was surprised that she wasn't struggling. He quickly realized she was far too clever to.

"You should have let me kill the thing," Jonathan muttered. "She's going to be nothing but trouble --"

"Jonny?"

Jonathan looked toward the door with pricked ears, and Etienne followed his gaze. Duke Charles was standing there, immaculate in a waistcoat and spectacles. A maid stood quietly behind him, and Etienne recognized her at once as Hadly. Hadly caught his eye and smiled politely. He smiled politely back.

"Where have you been, my boy?" Charles demanded in the soft, scolding voice Etienne had come to love. The duke took a step from the door, his eyes fixed on Jonathan. "You can't just go gallivanting off because your father won't let you go to Wychowl. I told you we would discuss . . ." The duke's voice trailed off. He had noticed Etienne.

Etienne smiled. "Hello again, Uncle."

Duke Charles smiled sadly. "So you've come back, have you? I should have known you would. Your mother always came back too. Well, what are my boys waiting for? Both of you get in here. Hadly --"

"My lord?" Hadly said calmly.

"Prepare the prince's room, would you?"

Hadly smiled. "Yes, my lord." She turned away, and Etienne found his eyes following the switch of her chocolate tail and round hips. Hadly had always walked so seductively. And the scent of her . . . she smelled exactly the same.

Charles cleared his throat, and Etienne came back to earth, embarrassed to find both the duke and the marquis watching him disapprovingly. The duke turned away, and Etienne and Jonathan followed him inside. A servant tried to take the vixen from Etienne, but he politely refused to give her up.

"Now what is going on here?" Charles said as he led them up the hall. "Don't tell me you went to the forest, Jonathan. After I specifically asked you not to?"

"Someone had to do something, Uncle Charlie," Jonathan said irritably. "Or did you fancy just letting the foxes take over the duchy? Because that's what they're aiming to do."

Charles waved a paw. "Don't be absurd."

"I wouldn't underestimate them, Uncle," Jonathan insisted. "They're angry, they have magic, and they've gone mad. They think their gods mean for them to take over. If we don't nip this in the bud, pretty soon they'll be burning entire villages to the ground."

Charles shook his head as they entered a sitting room. Tea was waiting for them at a round table near the floor-length windows, the fat pot steaming, the teacups glinting on the white tablecloth. Etienne thought it looked picturesque in the streaming beams of sunlight. Charles took a seat, and Etienne and Jonathan followed suit.

Etienne let the vixen sit between his legs at the table. She watched them quietly and solemnly, her small paws in her lap. She was so pretty and small. Etienne had to resist the urge to stroke her long white mane.

"Just stop, Jonathan," Charles said, peering into his teacup. He gestured at the maid hovering behind him, and the young female leapt forward with a jar of sugar to drop in a lump for him. "You sound paranoid, my boy. Are you sleeping?" He looked across the table at Jonathan, and Etienne thought his gentle eyes behind his spectacles were tired.

Jonathan shook his head darkly. "You won't believe me until it's too late. You're worse than him," he said bitterly and indicated Etienne with a jerk of his head. He glanced in disgust at the vixen. "It's bad enough you had to bring the thing here. Must she sit at the table too?"

Etienne saw the vixen's narrow back tighten with sudden anger, but the solemn expression on her face didn't change.

"Jonny," Charles scolded softly.

"What?" Jonathan demanded. "You and Father wouldn't even let me have a _bunny_rabbit at the table. But, of course, the prince can do as he pleases." He sneered, waving away the little maid with the sugar when she offered him a lump.

Charles frowned at Etienne and took a sip of his tea. "Why did you bring her here, my boy?"

"Yes," Jonathan said, before Etienne could tattle on him. "Why? You could have released her back into the wild. You didn't need to bring her all the way here." He looked at Charles. "She was caught in a hunter's trap and the big hero over here saved her."

Charles measured Jonathan with a quiet stare a long moment, and Etienne could tell his uncle knew the marquis was lying. But he dropped his eyes to his tea and merely said, "Ah."

Etienne held back a smile as he took a sip from his own tea. But he glanced down at the vixen and had to ask himself why he didn't just leave her. Of course, she'd been unconscious and defenseless at the time, but she probably would have been just fine if he'd left her hidden in the bushes.

"I don't know why I brought her, Uncle," Etienne said with a shrug. "I suppose I just . . . pitied her." He noticed the vixen's lashes fluttering out of the corner of his eye and knew his words had surprised her. She had probably expected to be skinned, but here he was, defending her.

"M'lord Charlie?" said a voice.

Etienne looked over to see a young female in the doorway, standing proud in a silver breastplate and a jacket bearing the arms of House Kingsley. Her paw rested on the sword at her hip, her eyes were bright and cheerful, and a crooked grin was slapped on her short muzzle. She was very pretty, in an almost adolescent way. If Etienne didn't know any better, he would have placed her at sixteen, but she was clearly dressed in a guard's attire and was, therefore, an adult. A female guard? Etienne couldn't remember seeing her at the manor before. Her fur was pale gold and covered in black blotches, some of which were splotched across her left eye. And everything about her was short, from her short little body to her shortly cropped mane.

"What is it, Porter?" Charles returned without looking up from his tea.

" 'ceived ah message from Duke Richard," replied the apparent Porter. "He won't be back from town for another day. Becky put the letter up on your desk in the study, but I thought you'd want to know right off."

"Very good, Porter. Thank you," Charles said with a sigh.

Etienne thought Porter looked a little disappointed, as if she had been hoping for praise. She was turning from the room when she noticed the vixen sitting between Etienne's legs. She stared at her a moment. The vixen stared back, and Etienne thought the fox was suddenly breathless. Porter shook her head as if to shake off a spell, then went flustered out the door. Etienne noticed how the vixen stared at the door long after Porter had gone.

Jonathan shook his head. "Marvene. Still kissing tail because she and Shackley screwed up. Literally."

Charles frowned. "Now is not the time, Jonathan." He looked at Etienne. "While I'm pleased to have you here, my boy, I have to ask . . . when do you plan on returning to the capital? You realize you must, of course?"

Jonathan snorted. "I'd be surprised if he realized he was male. The whole kingdom's gone to hell, and where is he? Out in the boondocks eating fox cunt."

"Jonathan!" Charles said sharply.

Jonathan scowled. "It's true. Coddling him won't --"

"Jonathan."

"But, Uncle --"

"Go to your room, my boy."

"But --"

"Now."

Jonathan glared at Charles and Etienne a moment, and Etienne could see the jealousy flashing in his eyes. He was jealous of the duke's affection for Etienne. Jealous that the duke was giving Etienne attention. Jealous that Etienne was allowed to speak and he was told multiple times to remain silent. His lips tightened, his throat flexed. Then he threw down his spoon, lurched from his seat, and marched out.

Charles sighed when Jonathan had gone.

"Has he always been such a brat?" Etienne wondered with a laugh.

Charles smiled. "Always. But alas, he's my brat."

Etienne laughed again.

"Now first things first," Charles said and wearily stirred his tea. "I'll have a bath run for you. And we've still some clothes of your father's you can wear. I will write a letter to Wychowl, informing Donica of your return. And first thing tomorrow morning, we'll put you in a carriage."

"Sounds good," Etienne said with a shrug.

Charles stared at him. And it was clear he had expected some amount of protesting, however small.

Etienne shrugged again. "I've had about enough of running away. I never thought I'd say this but . . . Jonathan is right. You were right. Running away isn't going to solve anything. And it's clear now more than ever that my kingdom needs me."

Charles smiled. "I'm glad to hear you say that, my boy." He placed his paw over Etienne's and peered over his spectacles at him. "And for what it's worth, I think you're going to be a wonderful king."

Etienne smiled.

"Now . . ." Charles returned to his tea. "What's to be done with her?" His eyes alighted on the vixen, whose back tightened again ever so slightly.

"She could come with me."

Charles shook his head. "With so many dogs angry over the Hunt being outlawed? The court at Wychowl is no place for her. Let her stay here with me."

"Really?" Etienne said, surprised.

"Mhm. Believe it or not, my boy, we once had a fox who served our family for many decades. This young vixen would be most welcome here. And should she find that Howlester does not agree with her, I would have her escorted back to the forest."

"Let's ask her."

Charles laughed lightly. "I doubt she even understands --"

"I want to stay!" burst the vixen.

Charles blinked and set down his teacup. "Well . . . that settles that."