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The Valley Retreat was one of the highest-rated alternative spas in all of Zootopia. According to the website, it was a massive, sprawling establishment with both indoor and outdoor facilities, boasting twenty-six separate streams, fifteen pools of varying size and temperature, ‘round-the-clock massage and physical therapy, talented chefs and bartenders and whole list of additional features and diversions that was so expansive they had in-house advisors on-call to help you plan your visit.
For a certain young pine marten, it also held the promise of a reprieve. He craned his neck up from where it hung low, drooping, at the various entrances to the building, all catering to one of the different sizes of mammals that frequented the establishment so they didn’t crush each other going in and out. Spotting the Lower-Medium entrance for himself, he shuffled forward through the door, catching scraps of scent from dozens of different mammals; nervous, excited, afraid, big, small, coming and going. The simple act of passing over the threshold seemed to breathe some measure of new life into him, helping him to to raise his head and square his shoulders some.
“Hi there!” A bright voice caught his attention. He looked around for a moment, before his gaze landed on a cheery otter waiting behind a desk, smiling at him. He swallowed, a little heavier than he would have liked, but soldiered on up to the reception desk. To his surprise, her sleek brown fur was covered by a warm yellow blouse; her flowery perfume smelled particularly artificial. “Is this your first time with us at the Retreat?”
“Y-yeah,” he stuttered, his quiet voice croaking as it echoed throughout the large hall; he cleared it hastily, and spoke more forcefully. “I mean, yes. I’ve heard good things about it.”
“Wonderful!” The otter exclaimed. “Is this your first time visiting an establishment of this sort?”
“Um. No,” the marten replied, shifting a little uneasily as his voice faltered. His eyes shifted down to her clothes again, and he noted that she was wearing a nametag. Connie. “I’ve been to--places like this before. They weren’t what I was looking for.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Connie said with a sympathy that sounded fake to his ears. “All of us at the Retreat hope that we can meet your needs! May I see your I.D. please?”
“Oh, sure,” he mumbled as he fished around his pocket for his wallet. Connie brightened as she was handed the card, inspecting it closely before turning to her computer and typing something in rapid-fire.
“Excellent! Will you be wanting a 24-hour pass, Martin?”
“U-um--yes, please.”
There was some more speedy typing, and then her cheery voice. “Excellent! As a first-time customer, you will be receiving a discount; your total today will be forty dollars. Will that be cash or card?”
“Card,” he offered quietly as he handed it over. One close look, a couple of swipes, and a few presses of a button later, she was handing him back both of his cards and a receipt with a sunny smile.
“If I could have your paw for a moment, please?” Connie requested, holding her own out expectantly.
“Um,” Martin hesitated, before reaching out.
“Don’t worry!” She chirped as she took hold of his paw, soft and gentle. “It’s just so I can mark you as a 24-hour guest, and if you give it just a couple of minutes to dry it will survive any swimming you might do while relaxing here with us at the Retreat.”
“Excellent! It’ll be just a second,” the otter chittered, reaching lightning quick behind her desk and pulling out what a pair of markers and a combination lock. Heat rushed into Martin’s face as she took hold of his paw and ran the markers over the back of it, one swipe each, yellow and pink, then pressed the lock into his grip. “Alright! You’re good to go! Your combination is 12-23-8. Please remember, it’s very important.”
“Thank you,” the marten murmured, waving his paw to help the colors dry.
“If that’s everything, then if you’ll look to the hallway to my left,” she started, gesturing with her paw, “will lead to all the Medium changing rooms, starting with Lower-Medium. I hope you have a lovely day!”
“Thank you,” he offered, almost turning to leave before stopping himself. “Um. Hey, you’re an otter.”
Connie chuckled a bit at that. “Yes, sir, I am.”
He blinked a bit as he realized his fumble. “Sorry, uh, I mean--you guys are, like, big social swimmers, right?”
Connie’s eyebrows rose in surprise for a moment before she grinned. “Oh! Yes, sir, we are! It’s a very important past-time for most of us.”
“Right, cool, uh. Is there, like, a certain pool that would be best for that, or…?” Martin trailed off a bit, his nerves getting the better of him.
“Absolutely!” Connie answered energetically. The otter bent down out of his sight and, in a flash, was back up with a large map, laying it out on the desk so they could both get a good look at it; she pointed near one of the edges, and he followed her claw as she spoke. “Your exit should be right about here; the first stream you’ll come across will empty into the Sunning Pool, here, and from there it’s just a short walk over to the Drifting Streams, which empties into the Swirling Pool and back out again in a circuit. Have a look around here!”
“Awesome. Thank you.”
“Any time! If you have any questions once you’re inside, just look for a staff member--they’re all wearing an I.D. card, like this one, on a lanyard.” The otter held up her own card in emphasis.
“I’ll do that. Have a nice night.”
“Enjoy yourself!”
Martin stepped away from the desk, the tension from the conversation draining slowly out of his body as he walked. The swirling cocktail of scents thinned out as he moved down the hallway meant for mammals roughly his size. He passed just a few others as he shuffled along, following the soft lighting to a series of three doors, spaced generously apart. Mentally ticking off the doors too large for him, he shouldered into the first one.
There were rows of lockers, all with more than enough space for his belongings. With some amusement, he noted several places to change with privacy, and wondered for a moment why a naturalist would need a place to get naked, but supposed that someone might just have a problem with undressing in front of someone else. Shrugging, he picked one of the lockers at random, making sure it had no lock already in place before he began to strip.
His dark hoodie came first, unzipping it and shaking it off. Next was his shirt, a boring blue with no logos at all. Martin dropped it on top of his hoodie and worked at the button to his shorts. With every piece that came off, Martin felt freer and freer, like heavy iron weights around his neck were being unlocked and clattering to the floor. He shed his last piece of clothing and sat on the bench, eyes closed, breathing slowly, in and out. The smell of the outside, grass, water, wind, swirled in the enclosed area and mixed with the traces of a thousand and one mammals that had shared the space.
Martin heard another mammal enter the locker room, but for once, he didn’t care. He reveled for a few slow breaths in his freedom, before bringing himself back by squeezing the lock in his paw. Glancing down at it, he began to twist the dial to unlock it and test the combination. 12, 23, 8. It came free with a healthy click, and he snapped it shut again just as quickly. He tried it again three more times, just to make sure he didn’t lose it, pulling it open with no problems each time.
Running a paw through the fur on his head, Martin folded his clothes up and slid them into the locker before threading the lock through the hole and snapping it shut one final time. With a few tugs to test it, he let it fall, clattering against the door, and turned to leave.
The hallway out was dark, lit by only small, dim lights set into the floor. A small breeze swept through, bringing with it tantalizing hints of grass and water. He ran a paw along the cool stone wall as he walked, feeling the smooth surface slide against his pads as he walked. As the light at the end of the tunnel grew, so did the promising smells of nature, and he hastened his pace.
When he came out the other end, his feet went from hard concrete to the soft comfort of grass. He could hear, and smell, the steady burble of running water. He caught the sound of someone’s relaxed sigh nearby, he could smell bits and pieces of over a dozen stress-free mammals all around him, and best of all, he could feel the wind working its way through his fur. He slowed to a stop, exulting in the moment. The entire courtyard smelled fresh , felt unhurried, secluded, safe.
He shook himself out of the moment, and straightened his back to really take in his surroundings. What he found, he could only describe as magical. The moon hung high in the cloudless sky, casting everything in a silvery light. The grass was long and well-maintained, soft, and swayed in the wind with the trees. Streams and mammal-made waterfalls caught the light of the moon, and that of strategically-placed lights nearby, casting shimmering displays on nearby surfaces and rainbows through the spray in the air.
To the marten, it was a paradise. And best of all, nobody gave him a second glance. With a newfound spring in his step, he set off to explore the premises. There were numerous streams that spidered outward and contorted into all manner of curves and spirals and circuits. Set in the walls, he spied several stations offering different services. Food, drink, massage, and more. Scattered amongst the various pieces of painstakingly arranged terrain were cabanas of just about every size imaginable, small and mostly spartan, containing a single, large, very inviting cushion.
It felt different than the other places he’d been to. The worst of them had felt sleazy, and none of them felt right. But this place, it felt right. There was a calm, relaxed feel; rather than let loose, it seemed to say slow down. Relax. Let it out. It didn’t just make him calm, it made him feel peaceful. As crazy as it sounded, it felt almost like home.
The sense of nervous urgency he’d had before was almost entirely absent. He had no desire to get in and get out. In fact, given the option, he felt like he might just stay for his entire 24 hours, if he could. Maybe then he could finally loosen up the tight, sinking feeling that had made its home in his stomach recently.
Shaking his head to pull himself away from that depressing thought, he looked around and realized he’d wandered away from the path that the otter at the front had laid out for him. Nothing was really labeled like it was on the map, and everything looked a lot different when it wasn’t 2D. Well, it wasn’t so bad. Someone had to know where he was trying to get, right? What was it, again…? The Drifting Pool, or something?
He looked around and spotted a few mammals making their way across the gardens, and many more enjoying themselves and relaxing in one of the many pools and cabanas. He drew in a breath to steel himself for speaking to one of them, but deflated as he noticed that all of them had a mammal or two with them. He couldn’t help but feel self-conscious as he wandered deeper into the courtyard.
Martin had just begun to consider looking for one of those staff members with a lanyard when he caught a scent, just barely, that nevertheless felt like it nearly floored him. His ears perked up in interest and his nose twitched rapidly as he tried to catch and hold the trail. It wasn’t until a gentle breeze swept across him that he had a path.
It wasn’t the easiest thing. Pine martens were not exactly built for tracking, and not only did the water everywhere interfere, but so did the scents of other mammals. A jaguar and a giraffe here, a rabbit and a hyena there, even a huge tiger and a little deer. He passed them, even as he searched for the smell that fascinated him so. He didn’t spare them a second glance; the scent he was looking for was almost indescribable, hidden under hints of paper, coffee grounds, and some grease--or was it oil? He’d never been sure what the difference was.
His heart was pounding by the time he stumbled upon the source his mouth dried up a little when he laid eyes on the large wolf curled up on the cushion in one of the cabanas, set up in a little nook against the rock of one of the waterfalls. It was a cozy place, with the white noise of the waterfall ever-present nearby, offering a cooling spray to the area, with the cabana offering a shaded area mostly out of sight.
The wolf was loosely curled up in the middle of cushion (cutely, he wanted to say,) her black fur contrasting noticeably with the warmer colors of the pillow, making the splashes of white in her dark coat stand out even more. Martin crept forward; he felt like he’d hate being woken up, but something about the wolf and the spice in her scent ignited something all the way from his nose to the primitive parts of his brain.
“E-excuse me,” he said, though even as it came out he knew it was useless; his voice was soft, even almost cracking, before he took a long, deep, bolstering breath, cleared his throat, and tried again. “Excuse me? Miss?”
<--->
Katherine didn’t really care much for nudity. Not that she disliked it, or she wouldn’t frequent the establishments she did, but it wasn’t really part of the allure for her. It was the atmosphere she was after. When half the mammals you met expected you to be a big butch bitch because you’re a wolf, and the other half expected you to be a dainty flower because you’re a girl, finding a place that just expected you to be was a godsend and a half.
After a while, getting naked was kinda freeing, sure. Feeling the cool breeze ruffle your bare fur had a way of winning converts, but the greatest part about these naturalist joints was labels seemed to peel right off along with your clothes. That, and most everyone seemed to pick up on the just leave me alone vibes when she sent them out. Maybe clothes blocked body language, because rarely were mammals so conscientious on the outside.
So finding the Retreat was a, well, a treat, especially on really pretty nights like tonight, when she didn’t have anything going on the next day and could just come to zonk out under the stars. Not every night was a pressure valve night. It really was a nice place, and just about breathtaking when the moon and stars were out. She preferred reading her books while swimming in the smell of espresso and ground coffee beans, but reading with the wind in your fur, the smell of grass and water in your nose, and the sound of streams and waterfalls in your ears was a nice runner-up, and the cushions here were divine.
In fact, she’d been appreciating one right about then, when something pulled at her in her deep sleep, pulling her up closer to the surface and causing her nose to twitch. It was like a spark, trying to kick-start something in her head, but it was something else that pulled her back to full wakefulness.
“Excuse me? Miss?” Katherine took a deep breath--the kind that only came to you when you were stirring from sleep--and took a long, languid stretch, feeling her muscles tense and go slack as she relaxed and turned her eye on the newcomer, one of those little tube-shaped guys. Mustelid, or something. He was kind of a reddish-orange, with a bright patch of vivid orange going from his chin all the way down to his belly, giving way to a sort of burnt brown. He looked small, in a way that didn’t relate to his size. Vulnerable, even.
“Whatcha need?” Katherine answered in a voice still thick with sleep.
“I-I’m sorry to wake you,” the little guy said. His tone was nervous, though he didn’t seem completely alert. His eyes weren’t quite half-lidded--three quarters lidded, maybe. His tail was swishing slowly back and forth and it looked like he was about to strain his neck trying to angle his nose at her. “I’m new here, uh, and having a little trouble finding my way around. Do you come here often?”
Katherine craned her neck to the side until she was rewarded with a popping noise and a pleasant release of pressure. “I wouldn’t say often,” she started, as she crossed her paws, laying her head down to look at the much smaller mammal. “But enough, sure. What are you looking for?”
“U-um,” he stuttered. He was a little bundle of nerves. How cute. “The… drifting something? Swirling something?”
“The Drifting Streams and the Swirling Pool.”
“Yeah! That’s it!” He shuffled a little closer.
Katherine pinned the marten with a lazy stare. “Why’re you looking for ‘em?”
The small mammal looked a little taken aback. “The lady at the front desk said that’s where the otters go.”
“You don’t look like an otter to me.”
“Um. No. I was hoping to swim with them.”
“Why’s that?”
The marten’s ears fell and he began fiddling with his fingers a bit. He actually smelled like nerves. Nerves and something else. She couldn’t quite nail it down. “They’re supposed to be, ah, friendly.”
“Friendly, hmm?”
“Y-yeah, like, um, easy to be friends with.”
Katherine leaned back, taking her head off her paws. She instead propped her head up on one, and draped the other over a hip. He was small, the fur around his eyes dark, and so were his eyes themselves--so she couldn’t be positive, but she was pretty sure he was having difficulty keeping his gaze within the limits of propriety. The thought made her smile a bit. “Does it have to be otters?”
“What?”
“Your new friends. Do they have to be otters, specifically?”
“No? I mean, it’s not like I don’t want to be friends with other species. Otters are just supposed to be, you know…”
“Friendly?” The wolf supplied.
“Yeah. Plus, they’re supposed to be good at relaxing, a-and I could use some relaxation.”
“I’m pretty good at relaxing.”
The small mammal blinked several times before speaking. “Um?”
Katherine patted the cushion invitingly with her free paw. “You can relax with me. I don’t mind if you don’t.”
His nostrils flared and he stopped himself from bobbing forward, almost like he was a stubborn fish stuck on a line. “I wouldn’t want to intrude,” he argued. His voice was faint, almost as small as he was.
“You kind of already have,” the wolf pointed out; when the little mammal’s dark tail tried to wrap around him in embarrassment, she amended her statement. “But some company sounds nice right about now.”
He took a step forward, almost skittish, she encouraged him forward until he was at the edge of the cushion and climbing up. Quick as a flash, she scooped him up and pulled him in, settling a space for him in the thick fur of her neck, right under her chin. He was soft and light, like a little cloud, and there was something about his smell… it was the same kind of subtle deviousness as one of those scents that were tied to a childhood memory, if you could only scent enough of it to remember.
The marten himself practically seized up, frozen in the wolf’s hold, and Katherine spoke in a chuckling murmur. “You’re just a little ball of stress, aren’t you?”
<--->
Martin’s brain was on fire. It was like those old cartoons where a trail of gunpowder got lit and burned all the way over to a big pile of fireworks and they all went up at once. The scent he’d smelled was her; not any of the smells attached to her, the paper, the shampoo, but purely her underneath it all.
It, she, was indescribable. She tickled his nose like an exotic, spiced dessert fresh out of the oven. She wrapped around him like the feeling he got smelling the air after a heavy rain. Falling into her was like--like falling into his bed, warm and safe and freshly showered, at the end of a hard day. Or something. He didn’t know. He wasn’t a poet, even when his brain was firing on all cylinders.
Every breath he took was like nitrous being pumped into an engine, only he couldn’t quite take it, and every burst of activity was followed by a sputtering stall out that he had to catch up on with the next blast. He found himself digging deeper into the wolf’s fur, running his paws through it, trying to get his nose that much closer to her skin. Her lungs were like a pair of bellows. It was maddening, so why did his bones feel like jelly?
Some far-off part of his sparking brain conjured the memory of a lesson, or an internet article, or something--about the specificities of scent, in general, musk in particular. How most mammals had it in some form, how it could lead mammals to their mates with matched partners describing picking their eventual lover out of a crowd. Some of the big brains thought it was a shared trait gained from common evolution, some thought it was a placebo, none of them knew why it seemed to work across species. Well. Most intense fucking placebo Martin had ever tried. Good thing he wasn’t on his feet, or he might have trouble staying that way.
A voice cut through Martin’s mental road trip. “Enjoying yourself?”
“Whuh?” He answered intelligently. Not only was the wolf’s voice soothing, but every word she spoke cause pleasant vibrations that massaged almost his entire body.
“You’re basically bathing in my fur. Never been close to a wolf before?” She questioned.
“I don’t think I’ve ever been this close to anybody before.”
The black fur surrounding him shook as she laughed. The marten could feel it all the way to his core, like one of those fancy high-priced massage beds. “That’s fair. Can’t say I’ve ever rubbed all up on a guy whose name I don’t know. Speaking of, what is it?”
"...You’ll laugh,” Martin mumbled.
“It can’t be that bad.”
“My name is Martin.”
There was silence. “And you’re a--”
“A marten. Yeah,” he sighed. He could actually, physically hear her lips split into a grin. “You’re laughing.”
“I’m not!”
“You want to.”
“Okay, maybe a little, but I’ve heard worse. I mean, you haven’t even asked mine yet. I bet it’s worth a chuckle.”
“You’re not a pine marten named Martin.”
“It’d probably be weird if you were snuggling with you.”
Martin snorted in amusement. “Probably.”
“So?” The wolf prompted.
“Huh?”
Martin was jostled from his comfortable spot as the black wolf shifted and twisted to look down at him with one large piercingly blue eye. “Are you going to ask me my name?” She asked.
“Okay. What’s your name?”
“Katherine.”
Martin swore he could hear that old dial-up tone screeching in his head as he tried to figure out what was so funny about that. “You’re a wolf… “
“Uh-huh,” she grinned.
“Katherine. Kath-er-ine. Kath, Kat--Kat. No,” he breathed, “you’re a wolf named Kat?”
“Got it in one,” Katherine said with barely-restrained glee.
“How was school?”
“Not bad,” Katherine said airily. “I just slugged anyone who made jokes.”
The marten sighed. “That must be nice. You can’t really do that when you’re small.”
“Don’t you guys have really sharp claws?”
“You get in heaps more trouble for using claws than you do for punching,” Martin said as he laid his head back down into her fur.
“Mm. That’s true,” Katherine said, craning her neck down, bringing her nose closer to the smaller mammal, curling around him in the process. “Hey, Martin.”
“Hn?” Martin grunted.
“What brought you here? I mean, to the Retreat. No offense, but you seem kinda tightly wound, you’re not the kind of guy I expect to see here.”
“Well, it’s. Um.” He stopped, having difficulty finding the words. It did not help that every breath tried to scramble his thoughts. “It just kinda makes me feel free? I guess?”
“Free how?”
“I feel, uh…” Martin trailed off, and tried to focus. Really, he just wanted to dig back into her fur and… something. Take a nap, maybe. But part of him kept saying no, this is good, you want this. His head jerked as he shook himself back on track. “I feel heavy, sort of. And then when I, uh, take everything off, I don’t feel as heavy anymore. If that makes sense.”
“Yeah,” Katherine nodded slightly in the affirmative, “it does. What kind of weight are you dropping?”
A shock went up Martin’s spine when he felt a thumb stroking his back, and he let out a long, heavy breath. “Everything.”
“That’s a lot of weight.”
“I’m just--it’s hard. You know? There’s so much, and… I’m just me. It doesn’t feel great.” Martin’s voice dropped low. “I’ve been having kind of a rough time.”
“Everyone has rough times. Having someone around to vent to helps a ton. I usually spill it all to my mom, what about you?”
Martin tried to speak, but no sound came out. His ears burned in embarrassment, and he used one foot to push him away from Katherine, albeit poorly. He felt kind of wobbly, like the first time he tried a few beers. “U-um,” he spluttered, his voice almost breaking.
The implication was not lost on the wolf for a second. “ Oh, ” she said. “ Martin. Is that why you were looking for some otters?”
“They’re friendly,” he croaked. “And good at cuddling.”
“I’m friendly and good at cuddling,” she said in a near-whisper, pulling him as close as she could and filling her nostrils with his scent. “How long do you have?”
“I got the 24-hour pass.”
“Good. Feeling tired at all?”
“I’ve been feeling tired ever since you picked me up.”
“Good. Stay with me tonight.”
“All night?”
“Mm-hmm,” Katherine hummed. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”
Martin squirmed a bit, settling in. “You smell amazing,” he mumbled, his eyes already drooping.
He felt only distantly the affectionate lick she gave him, and the words “You too.”