Spirit of the West
...two…hours…
it's been a whole two hours now and she's still taking notes on that stupid patch of flowers
you could only wonder what she finds so fascinating about every plant she comes along that she can fixate on each one for so long
the process has been repeated so many times at this point that you've got the mannerisms of her analysis worked down to a pattern
a quick fidget of some kind, be it shifting one of the blossoms a smidge, perhaps plucking a leaf and holding it up to the light
then once she's satisfied for the moment, her palm turns upward, the pencil it produces her proclamation of a successful deduction
her hand lifts, hesitates… her gaze shifting to and fro, her subject and its encyclopedia in progress
...before her thought completes, bringing it down to the pad, jotting down her findings once more
the sight has grown borderline nauseating
the crew has been behind schedule for quite some time now, intended to set up camp at Redonda Mesa three days ago
and while time isn't exactly of the essence, you would certainly like a dedicated place to set up a proper camp for once
sleeping on the prairie grass all this time, cushioned only by some strewn out fabrics, has done a number on your back
you want to preserve your youth, damn it, and fucking up your posture like this is setting you back
yet now that you're so close after all this time, she insists on all these interruptions to catalogue the entirety of the flora she encounters
this time, it's some little bell-curved beauties, musty purple flecked with stray yellows, hanging yet blooming like burst pinecones
they’re admittedly a pretty sight, and you certainly enjoyed their presence for the first few moments of their discovery
but your patience wears thin of her meticulous process
first it had to be a detailed sketch, taking special care to denote each of the plant’s features with scientific accuracy
then a sample extraction of one, an exact measurement of the petals, the stem, the stamen, before plucking another out of the ground to do the same
Christ, it's only a matter of time before she’s boiling the pulverized petals in an attempt to extract a dye
but she’s the survey leader, so… guess there's nothing too it but to keep on waiting
the other two are counting on you to keep her safe while they scout ahead, so you suppose you weren't just dumped here like an unwanted toddler
...or were you?
as you sit on a stray boulder, your focus shifting to picking foxtails off your socks, you think back on how you started this journey a couple weeks ago
officially, you're on a minor geographic expedition sponsored by the city of Anaheim
primarily viticultural (a fancy word for wine-producing you suppose), the surrounding valley has grown quite the industry for it
but a plague swept through the vineyards back in 1885, essentially wiping out the entirety of the fields
for many, that was the end of their riches, and even their livelihoods
it's still not an uncommon sight now, a couple years afterwards, to see a prairie schooner trailing by, loaded with the last of a formerly stubborn old man’s casks, decanters, and sullen grandeurs
you and your folks never got involved in all that, so ultimately you're still doing fine, but the city's been hurting for some time now
a sudden switch to growing citrus and vegetables kept them afloat, but proved to be far less lucrative
so you and your team have been tasked with a detailed survey, primarily within the Santa Ana coastal mountains, in hopes of claiming additional farmland to recover their agricultural endeavours
they already know there's going to be plenty of fertile soil, of course
the near year-round waterways that trickle in from the northwest areas of the range practically guarantee that
but your job is to scope out the best areas in particular, taking into account the land’s geography and, er… native population
you were given strict orders to keep things hush-hush, but apparently, much of the efforts here are being made in an attempt to make a bid for secession from Los Angeles
local government was ready years ago until the aforementioned plague ruined their plans, and they don't want any more hiccups to get in the way
so if you were to spot any tribeland that could pose a threat to a viable farmstead, well… just put a little red dot on the map where they’re set up
a band of the city's finest will give ‘em a visit and explain real thoroughly how they might have to take their business elsewhere
no need for any state officials to get involved, if you catch my meaning?
...you hope your party makes no such encounters
you’re only a total of 4 strong, but each of you has quite the resume
first was Esther, the spindly feline lady that is so currently vexing you
an accomplished botanist who seems to be hesitantly studying the related fields of nature
a well-kept tortoiseshell coat gives her an almost watercolor aesthetic, sunbeams cascading upon bottle shards, fragmenting hickory and honey
her thick lensed glasses seem significantly magnifying, the crystal beading her eyes into, even for an anthro, a particularly inhuman gaze
the fact that she could afford the advanced craftsmanship to produce them is an interesting consideration
she’s awful cute, to be fair, but unfortunately not your type
a woman married to her work, no time for romance
funny how well that seems to work for her, actually
for most, heading an expedition with a woman would be something unthinkable
their constitution would be too dainty, the exercise too strenuous… they'd surely just slow the group down
but as grumpy as you are, you have to concede that she must undoubtedly produce results, if the mayor holding her in such high regard was anything to go by
next was David, a stout human man who’s rather knowledgeable in the ways of hunting and country life
his old man was an accomplished lieutenant during the war and taught him everything he knows
a little gruff in appearance typical of a rugged lifestyle, yet he never seems to drop his practiced chipper attitude
never one to shy away from hard work, and performs down to the very last detail
he even claims that he once stripped an entire hillside of its wildlife with nothing more than a yew bow, 16 arrows, a summer afternoon, and a dream
psh, yeah… keep dreaming
he's a fine shot, that much is for sure, but there's no way he got all those little varmints once they started hiding in their holes
and then there was Alonzo, the vulpine mule-packer
he's well experienced in mountain trekking, cargo packing, camp setting, astronavigation, remedy concocting, foraging…
shit, what couldn't he do with the wilderness at his beck and call?
and Alonzo, eheheh, well… he’s really something
picture this:
a grey fox at least two heads taller than yourself, sporting uniform trim muscle indicative of his active, vigorous occupation
a stone resolve with steel eyes to match, his demeanor kept cool yet never icy
and a voice that rumbles when he speaks, deep and rich like an aged dark rum
if you put him on paper, he’d seem the very definition of what a man would strive to display
a gunslinger’s macho, through and through
but in truth, well, the first thing you’d notice about him wouldn't be anything related to his macho
no… your mind would first be drawn to how his gorgeous physique could out-lady a saloon harlot!
you wouldn't dare speak a word of it to anyone, but sweet Jesus, the way that slim, toned waist of his so smoothly rounds into a sizable hip ratio
how his considerably voluptuous, meaty thighs look like they could crush a man’s skull into splinters should he utilize them so
his rear, while only glimpsed in glances behind a bushy ashen tail, so delightfully firm yet round
you could only imagine how those healthy cheeks would feel to the touch, just the slightest amount of give when squeezed but uniformly bouncy when jiggled
and his back! my God, how wonderful it would be to trace your fingers down the sleek, womanly anatomy, to feel along each of the subtle curvatures of its athletic form, to pour wine down his shoulder blades and watch the baby waterfall trickle down the dip of his spine, gently pooling into the small of his back for you to lap up as if he was the most deviant of column kraters
h-holy… you get a little too into it sometimes…
thank goodness Ether is too preoccupied to notice your heavier breathing and flushed face
but anyways, uh, there's no mistaking that he's still a man, even appearance wise
his upper half shows off a fair bit of broadness in his arms and chest, and his face, while characteristically foxy, has some notably masculine chiseling
...you can't help but wonder, though, where else he may show off some manhood
waaaaah… what miserable luck that he had to go off and get married before you ever had the chance to meet him!
you heard it back in town when the group was still getting loaded up, small talk between him and one of the wagoners he must've grown familiar with
his nasally voice proved quite the contrast to Alonzo’s
”Only here for a few days, then back to the frontier again, eh, Al? You sure Cassidy won't get too lonely?”
”Nah, she’s not like that. Built of tougher stuff. Hell, I'd take her with me if I could.”
the wagoner snorts, shooting him a humorously doubtful look
”Heheh, no kidding? Must be quite the woman you got yourself, friend. Shit, my old nag would probably spit and holler the moment she hit a bramble.”
...pah
this Mrs. Cassidy, if you had heard her name correctly, must be quite the woman indeed to bag a man like that
...so, since you can probably make a quick guess as to who the fourth member is, you might be wondering what you’re bringing to the table
well, you can cook!
...
yep, that's it.
apparently, this little band of fools couldn't fry up a squirrel to save their lives
lest they risk undercooking it and meeting their end to summer complaint, of all things
you can’t even say you’re much of an expert chef
you simply apprenticed at a bakery where you spent most of your time avoiding your household
your father was taken by the drink, your brother took on a fiery woman he couldn’t quell, and your mother couldn’t handle the turmoil of it all
as a child, it was easy enough to sneak away from all that, meet up with the other city boys to chuck rocks at the trains rolling by or some other nonsense
but growing up meant that the mischief you indulged in with your clutch of fellow miscreants wasn't an option anymore
had to provide an income now or you'd get the boot
there was peace in rolling up dough at least, and while it didn't exactly hold the adventure you yearned for in life, you enjoyed it well enough
but it still wasn’t enough to grant you any freedom from going back to a crumbling family
sure, maybe you could find some respite from courier work or something of the like, but that was drudgery, paid peanuts, and always carried the risk of highwaymen
if you ever became desperate enough, sure, fuck it…
but fortunately, a golden opportunity turned up, and you only learned of it through a pure stroke of luck
one of the statesmen who was organizing funding for the expedition stepped in to get some sweets
you hadn’t even recognized him beyond a dandy of some sort
but he was kind enough to inform you that the state was looking for a young, able-bodied man with experience in travel and preparing foodstuffs
a five week voyage, supplies entirely paid for
you just had to keep up with the crew and keep ‘em well fed, and you’ll garnish a fine early reputation
perhaps move into something a little more stable on the federal payroll
you couldn’t stop grinning from ear to ear once he left
but when you inquired the next day, the organizers weren’t so convinced that you were the ideal final crew member
how were they to know that you wouldn’t just be some lily-liver, red with rash and stricken with fever if the trip were to ever go a little less peachy than a pleasant hike through the hills?
you had to spin some yarn about how you spent your earlier days trapping with your old man, once accompanying him midwinter to hunt down a grizzly he’d spotted near the coop
...in reality, you were trying to drag him away from another one of his drunken stupors, attempting to fill some poor Newfoundland dog that kept him up at night with leadshot
but that seemed to do the trick, and now, over 60 miles of trudging through the coastal chaparral later, here you are
...uh, wait a minute, where the fuck did she head off to?
your daydreaming had distracted yo-
”Say, Anon! Some of these bitty ones are still budding! Help me slide down this little crag here, will ya?”
you see a pair of tricolor ears, tricorne hat between them, peeking above the cliff she apparently already started descending
god almighty, please let them get here soon
Part 2
of course they had to show up while the both of you were still grimy and disheveled
boosting someone up and over an unsteady crag, even if it’s a skinny little lady, is far from an easy feat
especially when she barely has the strength herself to lift you up once she’s settled
your dungarees still have an emerald gash from when they skid over a patch of wet grass
David can’t help but let out a chuckle at the sight
”Damn! You two really got into those things, huh?”
a crooked smile sets midway his words
”...Didn’t so happen to be doing anything else while we were away?”
”Field research is dirty work.” Esther adjusts the satchel strap over her shoulder. “...not that you’d know anything about that.”
”Research? Is that what we’re calling it these days?”
Alonzo irritably huffs
”Path is clear. There’s a gradient a couple miles east we can follow the rest of the way up.”
”You think the visibility up there will be as good as they said it was?” Esther inquires
Alonzo shrugs
”Just about.”
”Brilliant.” She clasps her hands together and grins
“Gentlemen! Keep those eyes of yours wide open. Soon as we reach the top, we’re gonna pick out a nice little enclave to set up shop, then we celebrate!”
...if she was expecting cheers after her exclamation, she received none
just the clinks of steel clasps on leather-bound equipment and the silent acknowledgements of another day’s dedication to the trek
she lets her spirited expression linger for a moment longer…
and against your better judgement, you cave and honor it with a few belated claps and a whistle
it's certainly embarrassing, especially as a greenhorn, to shows unmerited over-enthusiasm, at least in your eyes
but she seems to appreciate the gesture, a warm glance sent your way as thanks for not leaving her hanging
she should really learn to stop setting herself up for landing on her face
a little ways into the day’s travel, David pipes up
”Fine time of season for mountain quail, I reckon. Lot of bugs they’re gonna want to get up here.”
he clears his throat before giving you a firm pat on the back
“Tomorrow morning, I’ll see if I can bag you a couple or so. Roast ‘em up with something nice.”
”Uh, y-yeah, you got it.”
it was unfortunately a bit difficult to reply, slightly out of breath as you are
even with the terrain being as easy as it was going to get, the incline was still working plenty against you
you couldn’t let them hear you struggle, though, even if it wasn’t that strenuous
you’d be hard pressed to get ”a fine early reputation” if the crew told anyone back home about your huffing and puffing
”Can I ask, though…” you add, “...what do they taste like?”
”Oh, they’re some fine little table fare. Better than any chicken I've ever had… uh, lemme think… you know, can’t say I’ve had duck too often, but from what I remember, they’re not so far apart.”
hmmm… you aren’t much experienced with duck either, but you know that they’re a fair bit gamier and fattier than chicken
the closest you’ve worked with is turkey, the pot pies that you and the baker made when the meat quality was good enough enjoying particular popularity
”Should go well with thyme, then. Stocked up on a decent amount.”
”...What's that? ’Stacking time' on it?” David side-eyes you. “Suppose that’s cooking talk for slow roasting?”
”No, no, I’m stocked on thyme. I’d use some of it for the roasting.”
...surely he knows what thyme is, right?
”Wait, you said that you're stocked on…”
He doesn’t quite get it at first, but after a moment, you can see something light within his head
maybe one of those newfangled “lightbulbs” people are talking about these days
”Ohhh! So you- you got something called ‘time’, or something like that, and you’re gonna- Ehecheche!”
dear God, these people really do need you
he laughs a belching, spitfire cackle at the misunderstanding
”Oh, that is good! Hah… ‘stacking time’... that’s- Hey, Esther! Get this! I was just telling Anon ‘bout the quail, right, and…”
yeah, you’ve already zoned out of this conversation
there’s more interesting things going on at the moment
for example, since our lovely vulpine companion has the most scouting experience out of all of us, he typically takes the lead on these hikes
usually the landscape is too dicey to keep your eyes off the ground for too long, what with the danger of pitfalls and rattlesnakes about
but being on easier terrain, you can afford to shift your focus forward, directly upon the object of your repressed affections
oh lord… the slightly reclined angle you’re viewing him from is really just mesmerizing
anthros, from what you've seen, don't wear much in terms of clothing, what with their fur fulfilling most goals of modern garb
city critters are known to dabble in fashion here and there, if just to prevent getting ran out of town, but out in free country, there's no governance for all that
and Alonzo most certainly takes advantage of this by sporting nothing more than a deerskin loincloth
...well, you’d like to say loincloth, but in truth, it's more like a two-piece apron, the back section slightly longer than the front
a bit like a tribal skirt, they're apparently worn by the Indians up north aways, some of whom are willing to trade them over to interested parties, a.k.a. furred folk
you suppose it makes sense… if you had a big ol’ tail, you'd be willing to fork over some whiskey or the like for a roomier option than trousers
but what relevance does it hold, may you ask? perhaps you’re getting a fine view of what's beneath?
heh... nah… and believe it or not, you couldn't even care about that in this moment
the sight of him, the entirety of him, raw and weaved within nature, is of far more solace to the soul
how shall you describe it? let’s see…
sepia feathered brushstrokes define the edges of his form, and the sun above cascades its shine to inner leaden gradients, the brilliance behind the overcast
grizzled silver slips into salt and pepper, dusted in some areas, drenched in others, a midnight snowstorm on a balmy day
a serpentine bottlebrush tail gently adorned with a denticulated stripe, a charcoal swoosh with an inky tip, the signature to a masterpiece
he’s artwork in every sense, his purpose manifest with every footfall, the wisdom of a thousand years in every flick of the eyes
even his very gait is a marvel to witness
his nimble paws coming down to find the earth below him, never amiss in their traction
his solid calves as marble columns, sculpted in respect to a deity, flexing with seasoned exertion
the motion of each muscle near effortless, kinetic energy flowing upward like water through the rooted trunks of lofty redwoods
these thicketed hillsides are no obstacle to him; he must've simply decided against stepping further into the air and floating with the wind
he was made for these sweet scrublands, a marriage of gentler souls, an affinity unconcealable yet incomprehensible
...
haha, you’re becoming so hopelessly obsessed with him, it’s grating even to you
oh, damn it! why does he have to be such a paragon of everything to be found beautiful in this world?
it's as if God Almighty took the highest points of man, with their vigor and their zeal, and of woman, with their charm and their grace, and of animal, with their cunning and their vigilance, and with each of the latent aesthetics and perfections of His creation, unified them into the very ascendancy of being to exist amongst us simpler creatures under the name of Alonzo
but how could a being such as this be of holy origin when his very presence demands for you to dive into hell’s black river of lust and drown yourself within its oily depravities?
when you see him, all that becomes of your mind is to lay with him and love him, despite the connatural evils of homosexuality
to steal him away from his wife, despite a direct contravention to the ten commandments
even to take his hand in marriage instead, despite no chance of producing offspring, thus defeating the purpose of marriage itself
if nothing else, your parents have always taken pride in you as a good Christian lad, never forgetting to say grace before dinner, to pray before bed
you’d listened to the sermons of your local pastor, same as the rest of the neighborhood boys
learned of the ways to reach salvation, and more importantly, to avoid damnation
and from what you’ve been taught, this is certainly damning
it goes against not only God’s design, but the natural order of life itself
...is he a succubus in disguise, then, sent by the devil himself to lead you astray?
it’s a possibility, you suppose
you’ve never seen an earthly man, human nor anthro, even close to his levels of exuberant charisma before
but could your existence truly be so threatening to Satan that it would merit the use of such a potent, irresistible turpitude to sway you to Lucifer’s path?
it's not like you dedicated yourself to fighting the wicked and giving alms to the church
you barely had the means nor money for any of that
as a matter of fact, your future, for once, is finally looking up
a life of riveting adventure, fine pay, and even acclaim with the people are all fully possible with the successful completion of this maiden voyage
and you want to send it all tumbling away by pursuing a man? a man who has direct ties to your instrumental expedition because he’s fucking ON IT?
the more you think about it, the sillier it becomes
oh, how could you let yourself fall so deeply into infatuation?
this… y-your feelings for him are not real, they can’t be
born from a wicked temptation that you simply can’t understand right now, it’s just a fault within yourself that you’ll have to suppress and overcome
but to reach that, you need to at least put some work in to keep yourself sinking further into the gushy quicksands of desire
just… take your eyes off of him, already, for fuck’s sake
Part 3
the journey was rather exhausting, yet your body was barely strained during
the two halves of your mind at constant war with one another made a fine substitute for more traditional fatigue
nevertheless, you finally find some respite once you’re able to set up camp, take your mind off things
it was a boon that it didn't take long to find a good spot
the land further softening out at the peak to pleasant, rolling slopes gave the crew plenty of leeway for suitable locations
Esther picked out a grassy cragside prominence where the visibility was near flawless at all angles
here, you hardly needed to fiddle with the maps anymore
just scan your eyes across the surrounding landscape and pick out a promising area to scrutinize
and what a landscape it is, sun-drenched sod uniformed in verdant satin, bewitching as a bar maiden
she catches you staring and blows a kiss with a ray of sunshine, the midsummer breeze upon your face a lover’s caress
your expedition leader notices the moment and joins your side
”Some fine golden country, huh?”
you nod your head
”I'm glad to see it in earnest. The frontier really is something amazing.”
she hides a giggle with a sigh
”...you know, I wish I was half as lucky as you. You really got the silver spoon. You know where I had to go my first time?”
you try to take an earnest guess
”...Death Valley?”
”Sweet Jesus, no, but what a story that would be. No, I was sent to Kingston Peak for the spring.”
”Can't say I'm familiar with it” you admit
”Fair bit east into the Mojave. The worst six hours of my life were spent scrambling up the north ridge. The rocks gnaw you to pieces and the shrubs shred what's left.”
”But!” she assures upon seeing your soured face, “it was all worth it, because through it all, I got to meet the love of my life.”
”And who might that be?”
she beams
”The great outdoors, of course! Now that I've been through the worst, all I have left to see is its beauty!”
you nod, though you doubt that some scraggly rocks are the worst stuff nature can throw at you
you and her take a bit longer to admire the view, then she speaks
”I’d like to share a drink with her. Could you get me a sip of gin over by my tent?”
”Sure thing.”
”Thank you, darling… oh, and help yourself if you'd like.”
you've never been given on booze, as you've seen firsthand and far too often what it could do to a man
so you simply fetch her oilskin, surprised to feel a rather discernable weight as you lift it
certainly a notable bit of liquor for a couple months or so
”I’ll leave you to it. Anything particular you had in mind for supper?” you inquire as you hand off the goods
”Ah, you won't find me a picky eater, but thank you kindly, Mr. Anon. You might wanna check with the others, though.”
and so you do, meandering your way over to the campfire
David’s got his hands on a harmonica, perhaps fiddling within his mind for a tune to play, while Alonzo stares into the flames, pensive, contemplative
”You fellas had anything in mind for supper?”
”Oh, whatever we have will do us, so long as it's warm and ready.” David puts a hint of thought to it. “Ooh, maybe something hearty, actually.”
he brings an overdrawn hand to Alonzo’s shoulder
”Big boy over here’s gotta eat, after all. He must be famished. Maybe double the portions?”
Alonzo growls under his breath, loud enough to the point where he's clearly exaggerating
David, seemingly unstartled but choosing not to push his luck, relinquishes his grasp
heh… seeing a joke get under his skin like that is actually a little comforting
reminds you that he's still human-adjacent
”Hmm, maybe he’s right, Al” you gather the courage to add. “I can hear your stomach growling from here.”
”Pffh.” David’s lip curls upon hearing the fox's attempt at intimidation now being used against him
frustrated, Alonzo huffs
”Don't indulge his games. He’ll never shut up otherwise.”
David guffaws in mock offence
”What do you mean? I'm just trying to help you out, friend. You've been the head of the trip for some time. You might need the extra recovery.”
”Your help is misplaced, then. I’m not gonna-”
his words are halfway interrupted by a muted burble, the sound of which angles Alonzo’s pointed ears to the sides of his head in embarrassment
oh my… his stomach really is growling, isn't it?
you hear David try to choke out a word before he's overtaken by a wheezing fit of hilarity, nearly falling off the log he’s sitting on
the commotion even drew Esther’s attention, her head whirring away from her scenery
the poor fox looks mortified, grimacing such a glaring moue you'd think he was plotting your deaths at that very moment
”I'll get something in the pot right away” was all you could muster without revealing a grin of your own
you flee the scene over to the kitchen canopy, and under the discordant melody of field crickets and lingering clamor, you consider
...maybe this can be your silly little way of coping
you know you can't have him, that much is obvious
but instead of sulking about it, accepting that your intimacy is one-sided and pointless to fantasize on, you can tease him
its childish, yes, but how else can you express your interest without opening yourself to the dull, encompassing ache of vulnerability
like this, you can still show him how much you pay attention, what you see in him, what a figure he is in your life
and with that barrier between your affection, perhaps it won't hurt so much when he ends up leaving
...if just a little bit
WIP