This is a bitter-sweet story about friendship and the - largely misunderstood - unconditional side to love.

Hey hey, I'm pretty proud of this. For anyone who has +watched me in the past ... YEAR, here's something current to sink your teeth into. Let me know what ya'll think.
Note: I love it when you write something, and the random things you toss in actually end up being strangely symbolic. ^^






Autumn

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"I hate Autumn."

Hannah's ears perked backward, the rake in her paws briefly distracted from the colorful leaves on the ground.

"Sorry," she answered, turning around and, self-consciously, blowing some of the mahogany hair out of her face. "What'd you say?"

Martin had sat down on the cement porch of the house; his mottled white-and-tan arms were folded over the rake laid across his lap. Even after her response, his attention remained focused on the ground. Maybe he was talking to himself?

With a hesitant sigh, the arctic fox drifted back across the yard, her rake plowing behind her in a lazy path through the myriad mulberry leaves. Martin sat unresponsive as she approached, and with a huff, she seated herself next to the gloomy stoat. The vulpine imitated him, leaning over her rake and planting her snowy-white arms on her knees, her tail playfully batting against his back to get his attention.

"What's wrong?"

The stoat's gaze drifted upward, staring glassy-eyed at the golden-red and brown floor of his backyard. "I just ...hate ... Autumn," he mumbled. His masked face wheeled around to finally to look at her. "Everything dies..."

Something was definitely wrong.

Inwardly, Hannah gave a long sigh. She knew this would take a bit of prying. Martin never came to her with his problems - if he truly hated anything, he hated worrying her. She decided to play along.

"You invite me over to help with the yard work and now you're trying to get out of it?"

"No," he said, in a distant tone, settling his eyes once more on the yellowish blades below, "I didn't mean that. I just need to-" He shook his head, "It just depresses me."

The fox leaned back and pretended to look at something else. Martin never liked talking about himself.

"You were born in Autumn, you know."

Martin straightened and gave her the most incredulous face he could muster. "I was born in Winter. That's why I love it so much."

Hannah rolled her blue eyes at him in mock annoyance. "Your half of December is still Autumn! Winter starts way later than you think."

The stoat scoffed, sweeping a paw across the yard for emphasis: "But in Winter, everything's already dead and quiet. The clouds cry, and I feel like I can participate in reassuring them by standing outside and catching their tears! And all the leaves are gone and you can see everything for what it is." He glanced at his arm then, and brushed it harshly before returning his paw to the porch on which they sat. Some tan fur descended to join the leaves on the ground. "Everything gets blanketed in white. It's wonderful."

A sad smile ghosted across Hannah's lips then; the stoat could be so inspiring when he was moody. She extended her paw, admiring her own snowy coat, before settling her eyes back on him. Already, his sun-bleached brown fur was molting, as all stoats' did. Soon it would be as light as hers.

“Fall is wonderful, too,” she pressed. “As well as the other seasons!”

Martin chuckled. “So says the girl born in Spring-”

“Spring-fox!!” Hannah barked suddenly, leaping at him and encircling her arms around his middle.

“He-hey!” exclaimed the stoat as both rakes clattered to the side. A slight grin appeared on his face.

Hannah crooked her chin over his shoulder, their muzzles almost touching. “You know, that's how we met.”

The eyebrows above his masked, tawny eyes strained together quizzically.

She shifted her weight and nosed him briefly. He let out an embarrassed pant, but he quickly realized she had faced them toward the lone tree in the yard.

“You were climbing that tree and you saw across to the other yard.”

“Well,” said Martin, pointing past the tree to into the opposite yard, “It's more like you saw me.” His claw pointed beyond the fence where a second tree used to be. It had long since been cut down, and his own mulberry trimmed back so that no branches overhung onto his neighbors' property.

“Yeah,” agreed the fox, squeezing him in a chaste hug, “I was so excited to see another kid with white fur...”

“And then you tried to jump over to my side,” continued the stoat.

Hannah groaned at the memory – that hadn't been a smart move at the time – but she giggled and her tone turned playful. “Like I always say, that's when I totally fell for you!”

“Please don't say that.”

Martin pushed her arms from him and lurched up. He stalked a few paces away through the crunchy leaves.
So, that's what this was about. The fox stood, then. “Martin,” she called, standing and planting her paws on her hips, “You drop off the radar for two months, and when you finally want to do something with me, you get upset.

“Talk to me,” she pressed, softening the edges around her voice and closing the distance between them.

The stoat sighed and idly plucked one of the red flowers from an overhanging myrtle tree. Hannah did the same; it had always been a game when they were younger, to try and reach the vibrant bottlebrush flowers.

“It's Russ,” he said simply.

She knew it: boyfriend trouble.

“I wanted to talk with you, I always do, but I-” he began.

“But,” the fox interjected, brushing the sanguine needles of her flower against his cheek, “you always talk to me anyway, every time.” Despite the words, there wasn't a hint of exasperation in her voice.

Martin grasped the flower from her paw and let both drop to the ground. He gave her a guilty look. “I understand if-”

“Forget the leaves,” Hannah cut in, affecting what she hoped was a reassuring smile. “Lets walk and talk.”

Together, the duo left the cover of the myrtle tree and trudged off through the leaves. They dug their paws in and kicked layers of foliage around, making two meandering trails through his backyard.

The fox hoped she could cheer him up. He always seemed so happy whenever there was someone in his life, but it never seemed to endure. To her memory, the last time he actually seemed happy was when he was with...

“So,” Hannah chimed in, kicking leaves in his direction, “you and Russel have a fight?”

He laughed mirthlessly. “No … you know me, I never have fights.”

“I do know you,” she agreed. “you can't stand arguments even when you're clearly right.”

Martin's path angled towards hers. “I've just been trying to spend as much time with him as I can, that's all. Everything's becoming so black-and-white lately – he makes everything so fun! And …” he stopped in front of her, “everything else just pales by comparison?”

Her lips formed into a half-smile. “Love's one hell of a drug,” she said with tangible sarcasm. She caught up and reached her arm out to him, but the stoat pulled away and plodded along at another angle.

“I'm sorry,” he said, apropos of nothing.

But Hannah knew where this was going and trudged on ahead of him, approaching the fence. He followed in her tracks. When she reached the tall fence, soggy and saturated by recent rain, she pulled two boards aside. As children, the two decided that there were safer ways to see each other than leaping from branches.

She put one foot through the opening and glanced back. “Martin, you don't need to feel sorry.” She swiveled one of the boards on it's nail. “I see your problems and … all I want to do is fix them. C'mon.”

After she made it to the other side, Martin followed suit. Before he could look around, though, the fox swiftly embraced him, her blue gaze pinning down his soft, amber eyes in a way that was all-too canine.

“Your problem isn't with Russ at all, is it?” she breathed, her tone heated but gentle. “It's with you.”

Martin indecisively moved his paws against the vulpine, unsure of whether to return the hug or shove her away. But as she held his gaze, it went from defiant, to yielding, and then fell to rapid blinking along with halted breathing. He broke eye contact.

“Yeah, what else is new,” he mumbled, finally grasping the fur of her back. “I feel like a cheater.”

“Hugging your ex isn't cheating,” she responded, nuzzling him with a chuckle.

“No,” he choked, “not that kind! I mean, I feel like I'm playing a game for the hundredth time and I just wanna skip everything and get to the ending.”

“You're in that much a hurry?”

“Yes!” exclaimed the stoat, muffled by her fur. “I know what I want, and with every person I meet, I have to jump through hoops all over again with each one. I'm still warming up to Russ, and it's not warm enough yet.”

“But Russ is warming up to you?” Hannah asked.

“Pretty much,” he answered. The stoat paused then and his ears drooped slightly. “Although my coat's changing and I'm not sure if he likes it.”

“What!” A jolt of possessiveness struck through the fox. She halted her nuzzling and held him at arm's length. “I love it when your coat changes. It-”

“You're biased. Of course you like it, you like everything about me,” spit Martin, his frustration bleeding into annoyance. “You still lo-”

The stoat halted in mid-sentence. Hannah released him and after an injured glare, spun around and stormed away. She stopped in the middle of the yard, wrapping her pallid tail around her protectively.

Martin cursed to himself and marched after her. There were no leaves on this side of the fence; her tree had been cut down, leaving his to grow alone. Her parents had never done anything else to aid in landscaping, and the place was rather bare. She was standing in a plot of newly-worked soil, and now it was his turn to get her attention. Her ears flicked idly at his approach.

“That … that came out wrong,” he offered, apologetically.

“I know,” she whispered, her back to him.

He rubbed the back of his head and laughed disparagingly. “I guess, I really don't know what I want. Boys, girls, Maddie, Isaac, Russ, otters, wolves...”

“Foxes?” she added, looking over her shoulder.

A boyish smile curled up the stoat's face as he stepped up and took her paw in both of his. “Surprisingly, even foxes.” The smile saddened and withered though, and his eyes grew hazy. “I just want to be with someone.”

Hannah withdrew her paw and encircled them once more around him, a gesture he was thankful for so that he could hide his face.

“It sounds to me,” she began, “like you're in love with love.”

“What's the difference?” quivered his voice.

“It means you should try loving the actual person, instead of the feeling they give you. I can tell you from personal experience, it makes things much simpler.”

“Are you still with that guy, er ...” Martin paused to remember the name. “Jesse?”

The fox sighed and shook her head. “No … my heart wasn't in it. I guess I don't know what I want either.”

Martin sniffed and looked into her wintry eyes. “Looks like we're in the same boat then, aren't we? We've always had an insane amount in common.”

Hannah laughed and produced a coy smile. “I can think of one thing that we don't,” she taunted.

“What's that?”

“I love Autumn,” she said simply.

The stoat raised his eyebrows. “Why?”

But the fox untangled herself from his grasp and instead, took him by the arm to a spot in the tilled dirt. “Look,” she urged him, pointing at the tree. “See that branch there? The one halfway up that looks like a vertical 'Y'?”

He nodded.

“Twelve years ago, I saw a white ball of fluff on that branch, with big almond eyes staring back at me. We played together and, after Easter, all his pretty white fur disappeared. All the kids at school would make fun of him for that, every year, but not me. I would always want to be around him, especially when all the leaves fell and we could just climb our trees and wave at each other. Every winter we could practically be twins!

“He became my first and best friend, and no matter how popular I got, I never met anyone half as special as him. I decided a long time ago that I couldn't be happy until he was.”

The stoat had since dropped his gaze from the tree and, paw covering his muzzle, now looked intently at Hannah. Fresh tears were brimming in his eyes.

“We met in Autumn. I love it. I love you. And it doesn't matter who you're with, as long you let me know you're happy.”

“Hannah …” he whispered past the tears.

“Look,” she implored again, and moved to his side.

Where she stood was a sprig of green sticking out of the ground.

Martin looked askance of her for a moment, then to the plant. “What is it?”

Hannah wrapped a paw around his back and took the other in his. “It's an evergreen: it will always be there, whether you're in the fullest of blooms or stripped down to the barest of branches. Winter, Spring, Autumn, Summer. ”

“ … Why?” he asked, his voice breaking slightly.

“Because,” she said quietly, giving his muzzle a lick, “the mulberry looks lonely. Looks like it could use a friend. Right?”

With a quivering breath, the stoat couldn't help but laugh as the hot tears flowed down his face. “Yeah ...” Taking his friend's paw, he buried his muzzle onto her and, through the soft fur, replied:

“A friend.”