Where Foxes Hunt with Wolves (Folk Lore 2)

“Did… did someone curse you? Was it the witch?”

Silence. Then a huff.

Not a yes, not a no. How old was this guy? What if the fox was still a child? Questions crowded Yev’s head. He was only relieved that he hadn’t shifted in front of the fox, afraid of scaring him. Now he was glad for so many other reasons.

“Do you know there’s a witch around?”

No.

“Are you over eighteen?”

Yes. Yes. Yes. And several little spins. Yes.

“That was… enthusiastic. But you’re still a little fox, so I’m not sharing my mulled wine,” Yev said in an attempt at joking.

Ember let out a cackle and rubbed his muzzle with the stump. He was probably relieved to be understood at last, even though there would be a lot of probably and maybe in Yev’s future if he was to interpret the fox’s body language. He couldn’t help getting hot under his clothes when he remembered cuddling the fox in bed last night. Not because he’d done something inappropriate with a fox, which he hadn’t, but because he now knew Ember wasn’t an animal in the first place.

“Are you from around here?”

Ember opened his jaws but then shut them. What kind of non-answer was that?

“You don’t know? Have you lost your memory?” Yev asked, slowly sitting on the wooden bench in front of the house.

Ember followed him there and jumped up to sit alongside him. He stared up at Yev with those big golden eyes but wouldn’t answer. It was now hard to comprehend that they’d almost made the decision to put him down at the vets. The poor thing had understood everything. No wonder he’d licked Yev’s hands like he had, too weak to fight, and begging for mercy.

“Yes or no? Do you know who you are?” Yev asked, lifting his hand to pet the soft little head, but he remembered halfway that Ember wasn’t really a fox and froze.

Ember crossed the distance himself and rubbed against Yev’s palm anyway.

Yes.

“Is this okay?” Yev asked, suddenly hot all over despite the frosty weather. “I don’t want to… you know, treat you like a pet.”

The fox sighed but then barked and rubbed against Yev’s hand again, seeking affection, so who was Yev to deny it? If this was a cursed man, then he was frightened, especially after losing a limb in snares and escaping death a second time that same night. Then again, if a grown man, like say, Yev’s brother, got changed into a fox, he wouldn’t have rubbed himself against another man for comfort. Ember was not a woman, not a child, and yet, here they were, with the fox climbing into Yev’s lap.

“Are you gay?” he asked, since he’d already disclosed that much about himself when he’d babbled to the animal far too much in the past few days. It had felt good to say it after many years of silence. An animal wouldn’t judge him, since it didn’t follow any explicit rules and did whatever its own instincts told him. People, especially werewolves, did not have that luxury. But Ember had understood him that whole time.

Yev peeked at the little ginger thing, only to hear a loud bark of confirmation.

Ember rose in Yev’s lap and licked his cheek, which felt nice. It meant someone who had found out about Yev’s sexuality hadn’t rejected him. Also, a fox had a crush on him. Great.

He should talk to the witch about this. If Ember had been cursed, she surely knew some magical remedies.

With a soft sigh, Yev moved his hand from Ember’s nape to his tailbone, and his heart picked up its pace when the beautiful eyes shut in pleasure.

It was fitting that when he for once got to share a home with another gay man, said man was stuck in the form of an animal.

A branch cracked nearby, and he looked up in time to pick up a familiar scent. He stiffened, ready to protect Ember if need be. The fox curled up to him, as if sensing the tension, but Yev relaxed when he realized Burian’s scent was faint, and the one approaching was Olek, his younger brother.

Thankfully, he was in his human form, too, because they didn’t need Ember witnessing any of the werewolves shifting, even if he was a kind of shifter himself. Olek was twenty-seven, but seemed younger. His big green eyes and pouty mouth gave him a permanently confused expression, and the reddish brown hair falling on his face didn't help.

He didn’t look like a big bad werewolf at all, didn’t posture like one either, and Yev appreciated him for it.

“Hey! It’s getting so cold,” Olek said, approaching in fast strides and already taking off the large backpack no doubt containing a fresh transport of drugs. This was yet another thing Ember shouldn’t witness if he was human.