Len Gilbert - The Furred Reich

“Hallo? Is anyone here?”

“Yes? Oh! It’s the human. From yesterday.”

A cat with an apron emerged from a back room kitchen.

“Yes, that’s me,” Hans replied.

“I’d like to buy some bread. Do you take Deltian Marks?”

“I suppose I could take those.”

Hans took a loaf of baked bread and paid for it with two of his coins.

“Say, um, do you know where I could get my clothes stitched together?”

The cat pointed Hans to one of the houses near the other edge of town.

Today the town was busy. As Hans made his way to the tailor, a few of the townspeople stopped what they were doing to stare at the human. A few giggled as he passed by.

“It’s the ripped-pants guy again!” One of the boys called out.

The seamstresses house was cluttered and messy, but she let him sit in the house out of sight while she put the uniform back together. Hans took a seat in the dark clutter of the side shop.

“Would you like another outfit?” She asked, “I could make one for you.”

The idea hit him hard. He realized then that he’d never even thought about wearing anything but his uniform. Even now it felt strange to wear anything else.

“Um. Well, I don’t really have the money for it. But let me think about it and when I do I’ll come back for that.”

Hans was grateful for the help. He took one more trip to the water pump before returning to camp. It was already well into the day. He asked two more villagers if they’d seen a black airplane or anyone else that looked like him, and once again there was no trace.

That afternoon he could hardly wait for sundown. His tunic was dried by the time the waning sun finally yielded to a moon-pale sky, and Hans was again pulled toward the steeple-crowned village at the bottom of the hill. He stood in an oat field and gave his owl call.

A reply echoed from the inside of the village, and his heart jumped. He stood waiting for Jan, no longer thinking of anything: Not of his quest to find ‘The Black Ship,’ or to reach the Cottonwine Lands, and not even of his comrades in the other world. In a moment her coat-clad figure emerged in the darkness.

“Come on!” she whispered, leading Hans in another direction through the field. They soon came upon another line of woods and disappeared together into it.

Hans let Jan lead him into the blueish-black forest. Her night eyes guided her, and helped her slink untouched through brambles and bushes. Hans was smacked in the face by them several times. After a moment the darkness was complete, then the moonlight poured in from between the sparse treetops, then it was pitch dark again.

Just as he’d gotten accustomed to the forest, they arrived in an open meadow between two oak trees and the fresh scent of hay welcomed them. Hans walked on into the open silence with one arm about her waist.

Jan stopped in front of a big haystack.

“We’ll stay here,” she said.

They both lay down on the hay and caught their breath, listening to the silence broken only by the occasional soft knocking of woodpeckers from the distant forest. He felt no sense of urgency this time. No need to grasp onto Jan or touch her. Maybe that was because he didn’t need to march on anymore, or maybe it was because Jan had taught him something last time.

This time he let himself be drawn to Jan, her pleasant, animal scent mingled with that of sweet hay and apple orchards. He kept his hand on her firm, young body, petting along the grain of her fur and down to her quivering tail. She turned, stared at him and they kissed.

He teased her with his hand: Rubbing the nape of her neck, middle back, her flank, and slowly up the underside of Jan’s tail until her body was hot with need. She came to him, thrusting her body against him.

Their sudden passion and curiosity for one another quivered all through the mowed meadow. Jan straddled atop him and licked desperately into his mouth. To her, Hans’ touch felt so different from anyone else’s. He wasn’t just touching, he was petting too; a strange feeling the cat had grown to enjoy with surprising quickness.

Jan began undressing him, undoing his shirt and biting down at his nipple. He winced through his dazed smile, and curved the palm of his hand up her thigh.

The orchards and meadows grew cool and the moon climbed higher into the sky. Jan and her human lay on their haystack bed, preoccupied with one another. After a cat nap she roused Hans and they embraced yet again. The two lay exhausted afterwards. Jan curled into the hay, her waistcoat draped over her. Hans lay silent on his back, staring up and watching the moon rise to its peak. A gut sensation told him this wouldn’t last, a nagging sadness which he could only escape in sleep.

He awoke to a rustle in the hay. Jan was up already, brushing straw off her coat as she put it on.

“You’re awake?” He said finally.

Jan flinched and turned around.

“I’ve got to go now,” she said, ears flattened. “I just wanted to let you sleep.”

“Oh…” Hans sat up. A strand of hay fell from his collar. “Where would you like to go?”

“We can’t be together,” she said, sulking.

“My husband is waiting for me. I’ll tell him that I got lost. I-I don’t know this was a big mistake.”

“Your husband? What?” Hans looked at her with his mouth agape.

“He… Never makes love to me, OK?!”

Hans got up and held her paw.

“Jan,” he said, “I can do this all the time. Wouldn’t you rather stay with me than be with a man who doesn’t care to please you?”

“N… N-No!” Jan shouted with a broken voice, pulling her paw away from Hans. He stood by as she covered her face and ran away, preferring, for whatever reason, the man that didn’t touch her. He felt bad for Jan, and sad because he knew for sure that he’d never see her again. He sat back down in the hay, shocked and dejected, but more drained than anything else.

Hans walked up the near by creek and splashed his face with water, feelings and memories of last night stirring in his mind. Images of Jan’s enraptured face; an expression that almost seemed like pain.

His memories pursued him through the forest as he retraced his steps back to the strawberry field and around the town. No, he’d never show his face there again. In fact, it really was time to move on, time to get back to his tent, collect his things and just go.

In ‘his’ woods the tent was waiting for him as if nothing had happened the night before. Hans felt lethargic all over, but there was time to be unhappy later.

“Emperor Jiroft!” It was Clement. Human servants rarely approached the emperor’s chamber, and so there had to be some urgency today. The yellow-beaked emperor slid apart the drapes of his bed chamber, his black eyes blinking up at Clement.

“What is it?”

“You have a guest! He’s come a long way to see you.”

“Is this another one of the agents from the Monster Khanate? If so you know what to—”

“No, no sir! He’s from a friendly land and I think he may have some answers for you.”

“Very well, I’ll see him in the reception.”

“Sir, he’s not a diplomat; he’s waiting in the throne hall for you,” the bald-headed Human humbly retorted.

“Ah, that changes things, doesn’t it.”

Emperor Jiroft put on his white, domed hat and made his way to the mosaic tiled throne hall. A familiar fox was waiting for him there.

“Is that you, Hex?” Jiroft’s voice echoed through the pillars of the throne hall. “No one at the ports informed me of your arrival.”

Yet there Hex was, looking dapper and rested as always.

“I came by land,” the Kitsune prince replied.