"They're called blinker-bugs."

Ross turned his head a bit. Raising his brow.

"Or ... so I'm told," Aria said quietly, padding to him. Silently. On the grass. And taking a seat next to him (on the fallen tree trunk ... out here in this forest). The snow rabbit let out a breath. And closed her eyes.

Ross bit his lip, looking at his paw. A six-legged bug was crawling from finger to finger. So light that he could barely feel it at all. And its abdomen glowed. "Back home," Ross said, as the bug crawled to one of his fingertips. "Back home, we call them lightning bugs. Or ... I mean, bugs like these. Lightning bugs."

"Poetic," the rabbit said simply, tilting her head.

Ross nodded.

"We do not have bugs on my world. Or, at least, none that you would be familiar with. We have things called ice bores. Worms that burrow into ice. They give off tremendous amounts of heat ... even touching one can burn your paw."

"Really?"

"Mm-hmm," she went gently, nodding. And taking a breath. And she looked around.

"I had a woods like these ... back home, I mean."

The snow rabbit looked to the vole.

"Where I was born. I spent a lot of time out there, but ... mm ... if I had my way, I'd live in nature. I mean, AROUND it. I ... really ... feel most comfortable there. It's almost like a blanket." A pause. "Or more like," he continued, "a second skin. And after a while," he admitted, "you hardly realize that it's ... most furs, they're astonished when they see it. They can't understand. They're from the city or the suburbs, or ... and it was never that I took the countryside for granted. It was simply my BIRTHRIGHT. It was THERE. You know?" A pause. "I never understood what it was like to live without it ... to be separate from it." A breath. "Now, I do," he whispered, and he looked to her. His mate. His love.

She swallowed, nodding lightly. "I feel the same way," she admitted, "about the ice ... I spent forever in the cold. And ... now, I'm light years and countless degrees," she said, "from it."

"We're from very different places."

"True. But that doesn't mean our mate-ship can't be as strong as any other. Our differences ... ensure discovery."

"Discovery?"

"We will always have new things to discover about each other. We will never ... be bored with each other."

A small smile. Looking to his foot-paws. Looking to the grass. And, by now, the blinker-bug had lifted its wings and sailed off ...

... to join the others. The hundreds of other blinker-bugs. All of them bobbing in the air.

"Like champagne bubbles," Ross whispered. "Mm ... or ... something like that. Like stars."

"They are bugs," Aria said simply. "Impressive ones, but ... "

"No, they're more than that," he whispered, whiskers twitching. Eyes watching them. Pupils heavily dilated and soaking their neon-green, flashing lights. "Darling, they're ... like, they're just ... beautiful. They're not bugs. They're gentle, living lanterns," he waxed, breathing poetry. "I ... they remind of God's grace. I mean, so much. So much life. Some of it ... wonderful. Some of it gross. None of it for the timid. Life's not ... for the timid," Ross whispered, looking down to the tree trunk they were sitting on. "And yet ... I AM so timid," he said. Swallowing. "I guess ... I was as a human, too, you know, but as a VOLE, a meadow mouse ... " He trailed. "And if life's not for the timid, then how did I get this far?"

"You answered it yourself, did you not?"

Ross blinked. In the evening-light. In the dimness. Beneath all the leaves and branches of all these trees in these woodlands. Solstice was up there, in orbit. They were taking their shore leave at this prey colony. Most of the crew taking to the temperate continent in the north-central portion of the western hemisphere. That was also where the bulk of the native population centers were. The cities and spaceports and such.

And, seeing the vole was still nonplussed, the snow rabbit replied, "By God's grace. That is how you got this far."

"By faith ... yeah ... I know, I just ... "

"And I think ‘life is not for the timid' ... is a bit misleading. Life is for all things. For the meek, especially. Shall not the meek inherit the earth? The sky? All that abounds? Humility and gentility ... and meekness," the rabbit said, "are the most desirable qualities. Maybe not among the wider spectrum of furry culture, but ... to anyone who has a soul, those things are desirable. Life IS for the timid."

The vole made a face. "Don't know that it ... makes much sense."

"Life? Or my response?"

A small smile. Eyes darting. "Your response." A pause. "Or both. I don't know. I just ... being out here," Ross said, looking around and sitting up straighter, "makes my mind wander."

"I see ... "

"On the ship, on Solstice, it ... doesn't wander so much. We're always on the move, and ... things are always happening. Sometimes, I ... can't stop my mind. But, you know, it's different. It's different out here. Out there, I don't THINK the same. Out here, I'm different."

"Different?"

"I'm a country boy ... well, a country mouse," he corrected quietly. "It's in my nature. It IS my nature. So ... I don't know. I just wonder if you'd still love me if we spent, like, a month down here. You know, if we settled down. If ... you'd still love me then. Or if I'd just be your awkward vole."

"You believe I would not understand your background? I am from the ICE," she emphasized. "It is ME who should be worried ... about such things. Would you understand the culture of snow?"

A whisker-twitch.

"You're not so different and not so unique and not so ... you are not beyond understanding."

"In the past, I've ... felt I ... you know, I didn't relate. You're the first one I've ever really loved," Ross admitted. "I mean, I just ... " He trailed again. Taking a breath. A bit frustrated. Eyes darting and following the paths of the blinker-bugs. Their paths crossing and converging and then parting.

"You worry about our differences?" she asked.

"I do," he said quietly.

"Why?"

"Why?" he echoed. And sucked in some warm, summery air. "I don't know. I just ... we were sort of THROWN together. Or, at least, I was thrown into you." A flush. "I latched to you. Like ... imprinted on you. And, for some reason, you ... "

"You make it seem like I mated you ... out of pity for you."

"No, I didn't say ... "

"I mated you because I WANTED to. Yes, we are different. But compared to the other furs on Solstice? We have a LOT more in common ... than you would think. We're both outsiders. Neither of us grew up on the furry home-world. We are both quiet, low-key individuals. You may have noticed ... whenever we have dinner with our fellow crew-furs, they always chatter and blab. We're always quiet."

"Yeah ... "

"But our love is no LESS than theirs. It is simply ... more modest."

A shy smile. "Modest," he whispered. "A modest love. Mm ... as opposed to a bragging love?"

"I suppose. But I love you, Ross."

The vole's eyes watered. He swallowed. Hearing her say that, and hearing her say his name, too ... when she said it ... he flushed. Closed his eyes. Sniffled. "Yeah," he whispered. "I ... thank you, Aria. I ... "

Her paw went to his forearm. Fingers to his fur.

" ... love you, too. I love you, too," he told her. "I just, sometimes, have a hard time saying it."

"You show it well enough. And I know it to be true, so ... you needn't worry. You spend far too much time worrying."

"I know ... I know, it's ... sorry."

"It is alright," she assured, nose on his cheek. Breathing in. Holding that breath. And then letting it out. "The blinker-bugs," she whispered, "are, indeed, very pretty."

"Mm ... I think one's trying to land on your ear."

"My ear?"

"Yeah," the mouse whispered, eyes angled upward. "Mm ... no, it skittered on by."

"Perhaps it realized there was already a light here."

"Mm?"

She put a paw over his heart.

The vole swallowed, eyes watering again. Don't cry, don't cry ... but ... some of the tears quietly slipped out, and ...

... she leaned her head against his.

And he leaned his head against hers. His dish-like ears bumping her slender, long ones.



"Well, towns make me nervous."

"Towns?"

"Well, any ... all these buildings," Herkimer said, looking around. "All these furs. Feels suffocating. I don't like the smell ... "

Opal smiled. Her cow ears flicker-flicking. "And you chose to serve on a star-ship? A tin can hurtling through space?"

"I'm ... I'm very conflicted," Herkimer supplied, smiling shyly.

"Aw ... "

"I'm scattershot, sometimes. I mean, I'm sure you've figured that out by now ... " He looked to her. The Jersey. His mate. "I mean ... my decision-making capabilities aren't exactly held in high esteem."

"That's not true," was her whisper.

They were sitting in an open-air café. In one of the towns outside one of the capitals. Some of the other crew-furs were in this town, too. Shopping. Walking around. Some of them (most of them, actually) at the clubs and bars. But neither the mouse nor the cow had felt very interested in bar-hopping. Too rowdy. Too ... too much noise. And too many lights.

They were content to sip at their drinks outside. Under an umbrella.

Herkimer took a deep breath. His grey fur ... warm. Soft. The night was, indeed, going to be a warm one, but a cool breeze was blowing. And stirring his fur. And it was comforting.

"Herkimer ... "

"Mm?" The mouse blinked.

"You okay?"

"Course," he whispered, a paw clutching at a spoon. "Mm." He let go of the spoon. "Of course," he repeated.

"You're all ... fidgeting."

"I'm a mouse," he whispered, staring at the umbrella pole.

"I know, baby. I just ... you make it seem like it's an AFFLICTION." A gentle smile. "It's not, you know."

The mouse said nothing.

"I mean, mice aren't the only species with ... vices," she supplied. "Each species has its strengths ... and weaknesses, too. It all balances out. You know that."

"I know. I love being a mouse. I'm proud ... to be a mouse. I just ... wish I weren't so stupid."

"Stupid?"

"I just ... "

The cow picked up her own spoon. And stirred her lemonade. "Mm ... you have to let it go, you know?"

A swallow. "I try. I mean, I AM trying ... she really hurt me," he said, barely audible. Eyes unblinking.

"I know she did," Opal replied. Talking about Advent, the jaguar. "And I know ... you know, it's just ... I'm here for you. I've always been. I mean, you know ... what I mean," she said, trailing. "We're mates."

He looked up. Smiling shyly. "I'm grateful. For that. For you. I really am ... "

"Then RELAX," she suggested with a warm, buttery smile. "We're on SHORE leave. Not WORRY leave."

A small smile.

"Mm ... almost got you to laugh," she said.

"I wasn't gonna laugh," he said.

"You were."

"I wasn't." He picked up his glass of raspberry iced tea. Sipped. The ice cubes were half-melted. "I love raspberry iced tea ... but I don't like any other tea. Just raspberry. And ... only with lots of ice."

"That's cute."

"Raspberry iced tea?"

"No, silly ... no, your ... how you just ramble like that. About the smallest things. About ... anything. That's what I love about you. ONE of the things," she corrected, "I love about you. About mice. You have the BEST conversations with mice. I mean, you've got SO much in your minds. From the gentle to the flighty to the ... dark ... to the romantic. I love talking with you," she told him.

His ears flushed. Turning a rosy-pink. He wasn't sure how to respond to that. Other than to whisper a delayed, "Thank you."

"And I'm glad you visit me every day."

"Mm?"

"You come down to stellar cartography on your lunch break. You eat your meals with me." Her lunch break was an hour later than his. "I look forward to it ... you know, and ... and that's another thing about you. About mice."

"What?"

"Your ears."

"My ears?" He blinked.

"I mean, you're a good listener. I can talk to a predator, and ... they only half-listen. If they listen at ALL. And other furs ... but I know, from your mannerisms, that you listen. Your ears hear me. And your heart ... understands me. You listen. That's ... mm ... I mean, that means a lot, you know?"

"Listening?" he whispered.

"It does," she assured. "It's ... comforting. And ... I don't know. You just show your love in the most special ways. I mean, special, little ways, and ... you just make my days better. I'm glad we're mates."

A flush. "So am I ... " A sip of his tea. A swallow. "Mm ... tea?"

"Never much cared for tea. Tea OR coffee. Can't really stand them."

"Mm ... do you like milk?"

A giggle. "Do I? Hmm ... let me think."

"Well, it's just ... I don't know."

"I like milk."

"We should've ordered alcohol, maybe," Herkimer suggested, looking around. Little torches were lit with flames of light.

"Do we NEED it?" Opal asked, her doe-like eyes sparkling.

He met her gaze. "I don't know," he confessed. "Just ... a lot of furs are having it. Thought it might relax us."

"Well, I'm relaxed. I don't know about you ... "

"Oh, I'm relaxed," the mouse insisted, sipping at his tea again. "I just ... don't know." A pause. "I've never had alcohol WITH someone. I've had it before, but it's always been by myself. Always alone. I just ... often wondered what it would be like to share a drink ... alcohol, I mean ... with someone I loved. I mean, if it would make the experience of drinking ... a lot better. Cause, to be honest? When I drink it by myself, I don't get what the fuss is about. It gives me a bit of a buzz, and I feel, you know, a bit tipsy. I giggle, and I feel light, but ... it's not so special ... I mean, I can't understand why any-fur would get DRUNK."

"I've never been drunk."

"Neither have I," he whispered. "I don't want to ... but I do wonder, you know, what it would be like ... to be a bit tipsy with someone I could trust."

"Would probably be ... " A grin. " ... best left for the imagination."

A smile.

"Mm?"

"The imagination. Or a future date."

"Or," she relented playfully, "a future date."

The mouse, both of his paws on his tea glass, the condensation wetting his paw-pads, smiled. And sipped again.

"You really like that tea, don't you?"

"I do. The, uh, food processor? On the ship? It doesn't do tea justice. This is REAL tea, I'm sure. With REAL raspberries."

"Mm ... well, this is REAL lemonade."

"Lemonade. I like lemonade," Herkimer assured.

"Then have some. Take a sip. It's good ... or are you too OCD to drink from my cup?" A smile.

"I kiss you every day!" A giggle. "I can drink from your cup."

"Ah, but a kiss isn't a drink ... "

"Whatever, give me it. Give it ... "

A giggle.

And the mouse reached across the table. For her lemonade glass. And drew it closer. And, eyes darting (to see if he was being watched), he ran his tongue all around the rim of the glass. And took several small sips of the beverage itself. And then returned her glass.

Opal giggled, ears flapping. Her ropy tail slapping through the air. "Mm ... heh ... you're cute. Mm ... "

"Well, you have to drink some of my tea, now," he told her.

"This is an odd game, you know that? Swapping drinks ... you make it seem so ... forbidden!"

"I didn't start this, darling. You did."

Her hoof-like hands reached for his tea glass. And she drew it towards her. And sipped. "Mm ... "

"Well?"

A sip. A swallow. And licking her lips and her nose. A hesitation. "Sweet."

"But?"

"But ... I just don't like tea, Herkimer!"

"That's a bias. A tea bias!" he squeaked, giggling.

"I don't know. I just ... milk, water, lemonade. The essentials."

"Tea's not an essential? More furs drink tea than lemonade."

"Not where I come from."

"Well, you must be from ... I don't know."

A giggle. "Good one, Herkimer. Good comeback."

A smile. "Mm ... " His whiskers twitched and his nose sniffed. "Mm ... I smell food."

"Maybe it's our supper."

They had ordered, like, fifteen minutes ago. Their meals should be coming soon.

"What did you order again?" she asked.

"You're not gonna pick from my plate! You always do that!"

"I'm always hungry! I'm a cow ... "

"Well ... I know. But I'm a nibbler. I take a long time to eat my food."

"Yeah, and sometimes, I just wanna help you to finish."

"Okay, okay ... paws and hooves, though, to ourselves. For ten minutes."

"And after that?" she asked.

"A free-for-all. You can take from my plate, and I can take from yours." A pause. "BUT ... you should've ordered what you wanted in the FIRST place, and then you wouldn't have to swipe morsels from my plate."

"Mm ... darling ... the only morsel I'm REALLY interested in at this table ... is YOU." Her eyes sparkled. "And I'll eat you later."

A flush!

" ... for dessert," she added.

"Opal!" he whispered, eyes darting.

"So what? So what if other furs hear?" A giggle. "I love Herkimer!" she said, raising her voice. Drawing a few confused ear-pricks and eye-squints.

"Opal ... quiet ... "

"Mm ... I forgot. Mouses enjoy quiet. They're bashful."

"We do," Herkimer insisted, still blushing. Sipping at his tea again.

"Well, I'll try to be restrain my enthusiasm," she said, grinning playfully. "Until we get back to our room and ... "

The mouse squeaked, trying to drown her out.

The cow giggled. Oh, she loved him ... he was SO cute!

Herkimer, taking a deep sniff of the air ... sniff, sniff ... said, "Our food!" Here it came!

Meal-time. Which meant a respite from conversation.

Which meant a chance to recharge.

Love took a lot of energy to maneuver!



The lights were bright. Were pink and purple and blue.

And some kind of music (music with an addictive beat) was playing ... from speakers. From somewhere.

"You know," Welly said above the music, sipping at his drink. Giggling. "You know, most femmes wouldn't ... wouldn't feel comfortable, I don't think, going with their mate to a bar like this."

"Cause they know their mates might get tipsy and start flirting with other femmes," Bell-Bell reasoned smartly, sipping at her own drink. Both of them having a bit of alcohol.

"So ... heh ... why are we here?"

"Cause you ARE a flirt. And I can't stop you from doing it, so ... might as well ... flirt WITH you."

"Co-flirters? Are we co-flirters?" he asked, his paw going into a basket of what looked to be ... an assortment of nuts and chips. A little snack bowl. He munched, munched ... munched. His silky-black fur and his white-stripe ... he was very bold and handsome. Skunks tended to be. Very lithe. Very outgoing. Which, sometimes, could lead to trouble, but ...

"Co," she agreed, "flirters. Meaning ... meaning ... " She tapped his shoulder.

His head spun. He looked to her, raising his brow. "Mm?"

"Meaning, we flirt with each OTHER ... and if we DO flirt with other furs, we make it a dual ... "

" ... dual flirting. But ... but ONLY flirting."

"Heh ... no, no ... no, NO groups, darling. Get that out of your head."

"It was never IN my head!" he assured.

"What ... whatever," she said laughing. She was wearing a skirt. Looked very feminine. "Mm ... no, I know how you think."

"Oh, you DO?"

"Uh-huh ... look, I thought it'd be fun, is all. Coming to a bar. We're both outgoing furs. We're both very social furs ... "

"That's true."

"I thought it would be more suitable," she said, eying the crowd. Seeing some of the furs dancing, swaying. Seeing some kissing in booths. "I ... just ... mm ... I like the colors. And the sounds. The scents of other furs. The ... pure, throbbing, electric life of places like this." She took a deeper sip (almost a swig) of her drink. And swallowed. Clearing her throat. "Mm."

"These nuts and crackers ... these are PRIME nuts and crackers."

"You can get nuts and crackers anywhere, Welly."

"Yeah, but these are AWESOME." He pushed the basket toward her. "Come on. Try."

"I don't want any." A giggle.

"Come on! They're goooood," he said, stretching out the word.

A giggle. "You ... whatever. Alright. Alright! Fine ... " She scooped some up, and then ... crunched them. Chew-chew. A head-tilt, and a swallow. "What, Welly? They're ... not that GOOD. They're okay, but ... "

"Oh, come on! These are the BEST crackers ... chips ... nuts ... the best whatever-they-are ... things, uh, I've ever had."

"You're already tipsy!" she accused, giggling. Come to think of it, so was she. "Skunk, we didn't even get to dance and ... bump and grind in front of everyone! Heh ... "

"Darn."

She giggled at his one-word response. The way he said it, maybe. Or maybe ... because, right now, she was liable to giggle at anything.

"Hey, sweetie ... "

Bell-Bell took another sip of her drink.

"Sweetie ... " The skunk was literally, now, off his seat, hanging on her shoulders.

"What?" she asked. "What?"

"Mm ... let's go. Mm ... " He was squirming.

"Go?"

A whisper into her ear.

"Heh ... heh, uh ... now? We just got here, like, twenty minutes ago or something. Or half an hour. Or ... something," she said, not exactly remembering.

"Sweetie ... come on, come on," he said, tugging her arm like an impatient child.

She giggled, raising her nose to the ceiling. Breathing in. And then putting her nose back down. Eyes sparking. "Oh ... oh, well, I, uh ... sure," she said. Oh, she loved him. Oh, he was bold. Oh, he was confident.

Oh, when the two of them got together, they were like ...

... furry firecrackers!

And it didn't matter that ... they were already gonna leave the party scene.

The best parties, after all, were parties for two.

A party for two ... mm ... and they were both invited!

And the skunk strode on out of the bar, holding his mate's hand, as if showing her off to everyone as he brought her by.

And they entered the open air.

It was night now.

"Ooh, the stars ... " The deer pointed. "Ooh, Welly ... they're so pretty," she breathed.

"Yeah," he agreed, head spinning a bit. "We, uh, WORK in the stars. We live there, darling."

"I know ... they're more romantic down here."

"Why?"

A small breath. A small smile. "I don't know," she whispered, "really. But they kind of are." And she closed her eyes and leaned on his shoulder. Snuggling up to him. Both of them still standing. "I really ... love you. I love you," she said, smiling. "Mm ... "

The skunk felt a very warm, fuzzy feeling. Maybe the alcohol. Maybe the summer's night. But, no ... most likely: her. And the love she was radiating into him. How she jumpstarted his heart. Every time.

Never failed.

"I love you, too ... mm ... sweetie," he said. "We, uh ... gotta get back to our hotel room."

"Do we?" A mischievous grin.

A giggle. "Yes! Yes ... yes, we do," he said.

"I suppose so. Pity ... we're ... I'm dizzy."

"Best lie you down, then. In a soft, soft bed."

"A soft, soft bed? A lie-down?"

"Mm-hmm," the skunk went, walking with her ...

"And, uh, then what?"

"Then we ‘be furs' ... silly," he whispered.

"Mm ... silly," she responded, breathing deep, loving being alive. "Silly ... but fun."

The skunk smiled and held to her.

And they went back to their room.