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“Shoot, shoot, shoot!”
The word seemed to repeat itself under Moxie's breath, spoken with nothing but panic as the fox dashed across the room—if it could even be called that, really. It wasn’t so much of a room as it was the entire house: a small igloo built from snow.
It wasn’t ideal. At least not for Moxie. Her girlfriends, Treat and Mochi, seemed happy in Vanilla, having at least one member of their family to keep them company, yet even when Moxie believed that Mount Sorbet was where Treat had spent most of her life, the woman with light brown hair was still a difficult being to satisfy, and had been for as long as she could remember.
Deep down, Moxie supposed that she was just raised like that. It was only natural that she picked up on her mother’s obsession with wealth and fortune, even if the lessons that the older fox taught her apparently weren't that common. Common or not, though, they stuck with her, just like everything else her mother said, and in an igloo lit by the light of a lantern with only storage baskets, carpets, and sleeping bags on the snowy ground, Moxie knew that her mother wouldn't be satisfied either.
The very thought made Moxie’s heart ache.
The fox knew that she needed to get the woman out of her head. Thinking of her mother for any longer than a few seconds never led to anything good, not when the brunette felt like she had to prove that she even deserved to exist, but it was hard not to think of her when they were so alike.
Sometimes that would make Moxie want to desperately tug at her hair and sob.
Sometimes she would.
It was something that Moxie would never admit, of course. She was Moxie, after all, the best—and hottest—fox to ever exist, but everyone had their weaknesses, and even if Moxie was special, the brunette wasn't excluded from that. Her weakness just happened to be someone with her face, and someone that sometimes talked just like her. Her weakness just happened to be the kind of fox that she herself was: a selfish being that failed everyone around them.
Moxie wanted a bed.
A dark pink gown was thrown over her left shoulder, its long sleeves gently brushing against her back.
She wanted blueberry tarts.
A gray-colored cloth was thrown over her right shoulder, its size barely bigger than that of her face.
She wanted to live somewhere that wasn't so empty and cold, because although Moxie was grateful to live anywhere at all, knowing what it felt like to be homeless, the temperature was obviously difficult to adjust to, even after a few days.
“I'm sorry,” Mochi mumbled, guilt dripping from the bunny's chapped lips, much like her own vomitus. It was light yellow and thick, and it had hurt to get out, but what hurt more was the large pit of worry that resided in the shorter woman's stomach. Mochi had watched as her girlfriend moved around the igloo, each action of hers taken so aggressively, and she watched her even now, as Moxie poured the water from a canteen into a small, stainless steel cup.
“Huh?” Moxie questioned, her brown, pointed ears perking up as she paused her movements.
So lost in thought, it had taken Moxie a moment to register Mochi’s words, but once she had, her gaze drifted in the bunny's direction, wide, green eyes meeting pink ones, though one of those eyes was far lighter than the other. For the longest time, it had been hidden underneath Mochi's hair, like the light pink locks were some kind of shield, but now the young woman seemed keen on showing it, clipping her hair back during the day with a clip of a darker color. Unfortunately, Mochi had a habit of forgetting to take it out before she went to bed, and last night was no exception.
Although it was probably dangerous, or could at least damage the bunny's short, soft hair, Moxie was happy to see her eyes. Even if they looked a bit different in the lantern light, they were still so pretty, and Moxie liked pretty things.
Maybe that was why the fox was so attached to Treat and Mochi. They had pretty faces, and pretty personalities, and a part of herself was always worried that neither of them could say the same about her.
“Stop that!” Moxie fussed, speaking to Mochi, not herself. She never voiced her own issues.
A small frown painted the fox's lips, concern in her eyes as she pushed the lid back on the canteen and stood up, taking the cup of water with her. Carefully, the brunette walked to her sick girlfriend's sleeping bag, trying to ignore the way that the bottom of her white socks dampened against the snow. It was gross and upsetting, but it was worth it.
Mochi—as well as Moxie’s beloved Treat—was worth it all.
“You can't help that you got sick,” the fox explained, leaning down.
She rested on her covered shins, internally grateful for the white and gray carpet below her. Moxie could handle wet socks, but wet pants were another thing entirely, even if she’d brace it if she needed to.
“Plus,” the taller woman practically purred, recalling how dizzy Mochi had looked after she threw up, “I'm the one who offered to help, cupcake.”
The long, white ears upon the bunny's head seemed to quirk, their black tips rising higher into the air.
“You're still using that?” Mochi inquired, her expression soft.
“Till the day I die, cutie.”
“I don't feel very cute right now.” A short, gentle sigh fell from Mochi's lips. Moxie leaned in a little bit closer, her green eyes focused on nothing but the bunny sitting across from her.
“Well, Moxie thinks you're cute, and Treat would still lose her mind if you were covered in garbage, or, like, a bunch of blood.”
“Blood…?” Mochi muttered, glancing at her girlfriend's grin. “Umm…”
“No, no, you're right,” Moxie said, shaking her head for a moment. That wild grin of hers disappeared, replaced with a slight smirk. “That’d be hot, and that's my thing.”
“Should I be worried?” the bunny teased, her voice cracking. Knowing that Mochi's throat was probably sore, Moxie graciously chose not to comment on it.
“Nope! If anything, you should be worried about Treat. Salt and Pepper wouldn't stop complaining about how strong she was.”
At the mention of Moxie's friends, Mochi tensed.
“Right,” the pink-haired woman whispered, her smile falling, just as her gaze did. Moxie didn't seem to like that.
“Can I take your gown off?”
“Huh?” Mochi locked their eyes once more, taken off guard by the sudden question.
“Your gown,” Moxie repeated, still smirking. “It's dirty. Can I take it off?”
“I can take it off myself,” Mochi answered after a short pause, watching as the smirk on her girlfriend's face quickly formed into a pout.
“But you know Moxie likes doing it!”
Mochi looked down at her stained nightgown, and then looked up.
“It's gross…” the bunny muttered, her eyebrows raising in some sort of apology. “I don’t want you to accidentally—”
“Please!” Moxie begged with flushed cheeks, interrupting her. The fox brought the back of her right hand to her forehead, feigning faintness. “Oh, if I don’t get to do it I might die! Then who will call you ‘cupcake,’ Mochi? Treat can hardly get the word out!”
“Hmm. It would be sad to see you go so early,” Mochi murmured playfully, her voice as soft as her tiny tail, although a little weak.
“Exactly! So may I?”
“You may. Just be careful…”
“Yay!”
Carefully setting the cup in her left hand down, Moxie leaned in even closer, taking one last glance at her girlfriend. Seeing no hint of hesitation in her pretty eyes, the enthusiastic woman grabbed at the sides of Mochi’s light pink gown and slowly lifted it upwards. Underneath laid a black-colored sleep bra.
If the situation were different, Moxie would have gawked. She would’ve admired Mochi's curves, or the cute belly rolls that formed every time she sat, and she would have blushed before she could even try to stop herself. Mochi was sick right now, though.
Mochi was sick, and it was Moxie’s job to take care of her, because she wanted to.
The dirty nightgown was tossed to the side without much thought, barely making it into an empty storage basket. Typically, the act would have been followed by a quiet cheer, but it just felt wrong to do now, so the fox looked away without a word, grabbing at the cloth on her right shoulder. Flattening it in her palm, Moxie grasped the cup at her side and turned her body away.
The cup was raised, the water dripped, and the gray cloth darkened, its color resembling Treat's hair in the heavy rain. The realization nearly made Moxie smile, but it was such a stupid realization that she thought better of it.
“Okay,” Moxie mumbled under her breath, her voice barely a whisper as she turned back around and put the silver-colored cup down. Glancing over Mochi's form, the fox took notice of the smaller amount of vomitus that had seeped through the bunny's gown and onto her stomach, and she leaned forward, running the wet cloth along Mochi's exposed skin.
The shorter woman pulled back immediately.
“Was it too cold?” Moxie asked, her eyebrows raising.
“N-No,” Mochi answered, acting as if she were going to shake her head, yet only moving it to one side. A short breath fell from her lips, but she was smiling all the same. “It tickled.”
“Oh,” Moxie crooned. “Moxie will just have to keep that in mind then. Now hold still!”
Tenderly placing one of her hands behind Mochi’s ear, the taller woman began to wipe up the mess on Mochi's chin, so focused that she hardly noticed her girlfriend’s loving gaze. That was, of course, until she was finished, and she returned the bunny's look with a cheeky grin, tossing the wet cloth into the same basket as Mochi's gown, where it once again made it in.
Secretly upset that she couldn't kiss Mochi's cute, little face, Moxie distracted herself by picking up the cup at her left side and handing it over.
“Here. This should make you feel a little better.”
“Ah. Alright, love,” the bunny spoke softly, weakly taking the small cup and slowly raising it to her lips. Silence fell upon the pair as Mochi sipped on the water, and Moxie waited patiently, looking away so that her girlfriend didn't feel rushed in any way. The fox’s head tilted downwards, and the young woman looked at the hands that rested on her teal-colored pants.
Sometimes those hands didn't feel like her own.
“Oh, are you done?” Moxie perked up, hearing the crinkling of Mochi’s shifting sleeping bag. The brunette raised her head just in time to watch her girlfriend set the cup down and nod.
“Mhm.”
“Do you want more?”
“Ah, no… I still have some left.”
“Gotcha.” Taking Mochi’s dark pink gown off of her left shoulder, the fox held it up with both of her hands, letting its edges lay upon her thighs. “Is this gown okay?”
“That one's fine,” Mochi answered after a few seconds of staring at the garment, yet she didn't really seem to think about her answer. “Thank you. I can put it on myself.”
“Aww,” Moxie murmured, recognizing the similarity of the bunny’s words, though she handed the loose nightgown over anyway, watching as Mochi turned it around and placed her head inside it. “Your beautiful body's going to be covered.”
Mochi hummed with a smile, slipping her hands through the appropriate spots.
“Your beautiful body is covered too, Moxie.”
A sharp breath left the brunette’s lips, and a sudden burn ran across her cheeks.
“Oh! Hah! L-Lie back down!” the fox insisted, turning her head away quickly. She anxiously clenched the hands that rested on her thighs, and Mochi giggled in response, tucking herself back into her sleeping bag, only to groan once her head was settled against the carpet.
Several seconds passed before Moxie spoke again, letting herself calm down.
“So that's why you didn't eat much last night.” The comment was filled with noticeable worry, and the pitied look in the fox’s eyes did nothing to hide it. Mochi could see it when the brunette gazed at her once more, and there was something about it that made her feel so guilty. “Are you hungry?”
That guilt intensified, but Mochi didn't like to lie.
“Just… Just a little bit,” the bunny answered, biting back an apology.
“Okay!”
Before Mochi could tell Moxie to wait, that she would wait, the fox had already stood up, determination nestled in those green-colored eyes of hers. Moxie herself was like a torch, easy to ignite and sometimes difficult to put out, and a sense of purpose was the very spark that she needed. Mochi couldn't playfully argue. She didn't even think she had the strength to after talking so much already, but that didn't help the uneasy feeling in her stomach as she watched the brunette walk over to Treat, undeniably going to wake their girlfriend from her slumber.
As if Treat could read her mind, the pink-haired woman closed her eyes, internally speaking one word: sorry.
Moxie was none the wiser. In fact, she was too busy climbing over Treat, trapping the wolf’s hidden legs between her knees and her head between her hands. It was meant to be funny. It was supposed to be funny.
Even so, Moxie couldn't stop staring.
There was just something so captivating about Treat's features, so soft and delicate, so perfect. Thick eyelashes brushed against the woman's skin, and light gray hair caressed her cheeks, but what Moxie liked the most was how relaxed Treat looked. There was nothing to worry about when she was fast asleep, no judging eyes or whispered insults. She was loved. She was safe, but for Treat to feel such a thing meant that she trusted the two people she slept beside.
Mochi deserved that trust. Moxie knew that the bunny did, and that she did not. She was stingy, manipulative, and distant, because that was all she ever knew, yet that didn't stop the very idea of Treat's trust from squeezing at her heart, like the organ was nothing but a cheap toy.
I love you. The sentence rested on the tip of the brunette’s tongue, but it was too vulnerable to be said so seriously. I’ll love you until you hate me.
“Treat,” Moxie cooed, admiration dripping from her lips, but even that didn't seem to earn the fox any response—and although that normally would have been okay, Mochi was ill. Eager for Treat to awaken, Moxie raised her right hand and poked at the woman's cheek for good measure. “Treat. Treat. Treat. Tr—”
“H-Hmm?” Treat whined, interrupting Moxie's nearly robotic repetition. Her face scrunched, eyes squinting and lips curling, and Moxie tried not to smile at the sight.
“Treat, get up.”
“Is something wrong?” the wolf mumbled, slowly opening her tired eyes, even if she had to blink for a second or two. There was something about her voice, slightly hoarse from hours of nonuse, that reminded Moxie of how much taller Treat was than her, and of how much stronger Treat was—yet even so, the gray-haired woman made no attempt to push the brunette off of her, nor did she seem surprised by the fox’s close presence at all. It would have been frustrating if Moxie didn't find it so momentarily endearing.
“Mochi got sick.” It was the simplest explanation that Moxie could possibly give, but it was quick, and Moxie needed it to be quick.
Watching Treat's face shift in both realization and concern, Moxie pulled her head away and slipped off of the gray-haired woman, letting her immediately shoot up from her sleeping bag. Sitting with her palms resting against the white and gray carpet below her, Treat glanced in Mochi’s direction, her dark eyes focusing on her sick girlfriend.
“Mochi? Are you okay?”
“I think so,” the bunny answered quietly, not opening her eyes.
“But she's hungry,” the fox interjected, because she knew that Mochi wouldn't be so quick to reveal such a thing, “and I was going to ask you to keep her company while I make something.”
A sudden silence filled the igloo, and Treat slowly turned her head in Moxie's direction, her expression flat.
“But you can't cook.”
Moxie's breath hitched.
“There’s no reason to be mean to me!” the fox whined, her eyebrows raised.
“I wasn’t trying to—”
“Nope, nope, nope!” Moxie quickly interrupted, but even though her words were followed by a short chuckle, the brunette's expression fell for a second. Just a second. “I just…”
I want to be useful.
“Moxie just won't be able to stay still seeing Mochi so flushed and sweaty!”
It was a lie, a complete and utter lie, yet although Mochi recognized it as such, seeing as Moxie had helped her change without any issues, the bunny decided to stay quiet. She didn't exactly know why Moxie would wish to paint herself in such a strange light, but everyone had their reasoning for everything, and deep down, she knew that Treat probably saw through the excuse. The young woman was good at things like that.
“So,” Moxie added when no other words were said, “I'm gonna go.” Standing up, the fox hoped that the silence came from surprise and not understanding. “Don't take advantage of the situation, Treat!”
With a blush forming on her face, the wolf quickly shook her head, showing that she harbored no intentions of such a thing. The teasing fox only laughed in response, and after slipping on her teal-colored sneakers, trying not to cringe at the sensation of her wet socks, she was out of the door—or lack of one.
The energy in the room seemed to leave alongside Moxie’s presence, and Treat sighed, looking back at Mochi.
Was this her own fault? Should they never have hiked up here? It was never her intention for anyone to get sick, yet even so, Treat couldn't deny that her presence always seemed to bring pain to everyone else.
She was a wolf, she was polyamorous, and she struggled to communicate her feelings properly. She was doomed from the start.
“Are you still all right?” the wolf asked, a frown tugging at the corners of her lips. She didn't like this. She didn't like seeing Mochi sick. If anyone had to get sick, she would have preferred it to be herself.
Wouldn't it have been deserved?
“I'm okay right now,” Mochi replied, and Treat realized that the bunny would never know the awful thoughts she had just pulled the wolf away from, and so easily at that. “Just really hot. It's almost a little funny.”
Treat knew what Mochi was talking about: how Mochi could remain so hot when there was snow on the ground below her, but she still didn't find it all that funny. No amount of suffering could ever be funny, but that answer was too serious, too cold, so Treat didn't voice it. Instead, she looked at Mochi as if the younger woman was a beautiful painting she would never see again, and one that she never wanted to forget.
“Your ponytail is loose,” the woman with light gray hair noted, her voice inexpressive, yet oddly drifting into something sweet when she added, “Do you want me to fix it for you?”
“Sure,” Mochi chirped with open eyes—or tried to, at least. Her voice lacked the energy that it really needed, and she coughed to clear the uncomfortable sensation that grew in her throat. Sick birds do not sing for a reason.
When Mochi sat up, she realized that she must've done so far too quickly. Her vision faded for a moment, storage baskets looking like nothing more than streaks of color. The sight only made the woman feel even more nauseous, and she shut her eyes tight, pressing a palm against her forehead. She didn't drop her hand and open her eyes until she was certain that her vision had returned, and by then, Treat had already planted herself behind her, noticing the way that Mochi's sleeves were already rolled up. She must've done it when she was laying down.
A gentle hand reached over and unclipped Mochi's dark pink hair clip. It held onto the item as it removed the woman's black-colored hair tie with ease, and once the tie was gone and on Treat's wrist, the freed hair fell, brushing against the bunny's upper back. After placing the hair clip in her lap, Treat reached out and caressed it. She could distinctively recall Mochi's hair typically smelling of fruit.
Soft, the wolf thought, running her fingers through the light pink strands. Soft.
“It was nice of Moxie to want to cook,” Mochi said, breaking the silence once Treat had started to collect her hair in her right hand, brushing down the sides of Mochi's hair with her left. “Especially since it's so early.”
“Mhm,” Treat hummed in agreement, pulling the hair tie off of her wrist and onto the low ponytail, where the hair went through. She twisted the tie and repeated the action twice, not adding anything else on the matter. She found herself to be more of a listener than a conversationalist, and it wasn't until she picked up the hair clip and put it back in Mochi's hair that she talked again. “I'm done.”
“Thanks, sweetie,” Mochi spoke with a smile, and after Treat scooted back a bit, she slowly laid back down. It wasn’t until Treat thought of offering to get Mochi water that she noticed the cup already beside her, and she formed a smile of her own.
She's really trying.
Silence quickly took over the igloo, but it was a comfortable sort of silence, one where you felt at ease and your thoughts did not rush. It was calming, and after worrying about her parents’ reactions to the real her for so long, Treat had needed the calm.
There was no telling how long it had lasted. Treat had been able to think of numerous things over the silent period, but the sound of crunching snow had swiftly pulled both Treat and Mochi from their unspoken thoughts, and they turned their heads, regarding the dejected-looking fox at the entrance of their shared igloo.
“Cooking isn't going the way Moxie thought it would,” the woman admitted, her green eyes focused on the snowy ground, and her light brown ears flattened against her head. In embarrassment, Moxie’s thick, brown tail only curled around her left leg, but that didn't stop her from clenching her fists and adding, “It's those stupid potatoes! They're so… Ugh! Moxie needs your help, Treat!”
“You really could stay with Mochi,” Treat softly stated, her dark eyes full of understanding—yet also a touch of concern. It made the fox feel exposed somehow. “I can cook instead.”
“No,” Moxie voiced, her eyes widening and her ears raising once she realized the word had slipped out, and far more serious than she had ever intended. She just wanted to help, but admitting that felt too pathetic, so Moxie did what she did best: put on an act with the hope that one day it wouldn't be an act, and that she would actually feel confident in her own skin. “Moxie can't stay here alone!” she whined. “I'll just want to kiss all over Mochi's little, red face, and then I'll get sick too! If Mochi says it's okay, can't we cook together? C'mon, Treat!”
Don't make me feel useless.
“I don't see a problem with that,” Mochi commented with a weak smile, letting out a small yawn as she scooted further into her dark gray sleeping bag. She was hot, but she was cold, and it was more frustrating than it needed to be. “I planned on trying to go back to sleep anyway. If Moxie stayed, she'd probably just get bored.”
“Are you sure?” Treat asked, her eyebrows raising.
“Mhm. You two have fun!”
“Yes!” Moxie cheered, pumping her fist. “You're the best, Mochi!”
“I'll see you soon, then,” Treat spoke, starting to get up, but the voice of her pink-haired girlfriend suddenly stopped her.
“Wait. Treat, come here.”
“Hmm?” the wolf mumbled, scooting a little closer as Mochi sat up—slowly this time—and turned, grabbing her arm and pulling her closer. It was enough to make Treat blush, her mind going blank as Mochi leaned in, whispering into her cupped ear.
“What are you talking about?” Moxie asked curiously, her head tilted to the side, but Mochi only giggled in response as she pulled away from Treat, and the wolf only nodded, taking one of Mochi’s hands in her own and squeezing it with a smile. “Guys? Treat?” Moxie called as the woman stood up, moving to put on her light gray boots.
Determining that she wouldn't get a clear answer, Moxie only frowned, dramatically sighing as she waited for the other woman to meet her at the entrance. Once Treat did, the two stepped outside together, Moxie taking the lead as their footprints marked the snow. The air that hit their faces was clean, crisp, and cold, and although Moxie couldn't quite explain the smell, it was better than any air she had smelt before.
“So you really aren't going to tell me what Mochi said?” the fox persisted, once she knew that Mochi was out of earshot. Moxie knew it wasn't anything bad—or she wanted to believe that, at least—but that didn't stop the sickening feeling that wiggled in her stomach like a tapeworm. She didn't like feeling left out, even if she completely understood why someone like her would be.
“You'll figure it out soon enough,” the wolf answered, her response as short as ever, but she smiled. Almost like she could read Moxie's thoughts, she comfortingly interlocked their fingers, moving to the shorter woman's left. Side by side, with the skin of their hands touching, Moxie quickly shut up, a fluttery sensation forming in her chest.
The two of them made it to the fire pit in no time, where a boiling pot of water awaited them above the small fire. Steam rose and curled into the air, but it was difficult to make out underneath the deep blue sky, where only four stars shined.
When Moxie was alone, boiling the water, she had found the sight a bit unsettling. The sky was so empty, and she really didn't like it, even if the thought only made her feel like a child afraid of the dark. Treat liked the sight, however. She liked the dark. It reminded her of the times she would enjoy alone or with a dark-haired friend, where she didn't have to say anything at all. That was, of course, until Treat had left everyone behind, and although it was a bitter memory, the wolf knew that she wouldn't have met her girlfriends otherwise.
“What did you plan on making?” Treat inquired, trying to pay little attention to the thoughts that swarmed her head, and instead focus on the task at hand. There was nothing she could change. She had to remember that.
“Potato soup,” the brunette replied, popping the last consonant. “It's not exactly going well, though…”
Letting go of Treat's hand—which embarrassingly pained her more than she thought it would—Moxie grabbed a nearby bucket, holding it out for her girlfriend to peek in. Inside of the large, black container was a small pocket knife, as well as three potatoes that Moxie had struggled to peel. They were jagged, not smooth, and a large chunk of their skin still remained, just spread out in different places.
A smile spread across Treat's face, the sight a bit amusing.
“You better not laugh!” Moxie cried, watching the wolf's expression shift. With her lower lip protruding into a pout, the fox jerked the bucket away immediately, her face flushing.
“I wasn’t going to,” the taller woman stated fondly, and with a tone like that, Moxie's expression couldn't help but soften, even if she could practically hear the chuckle that Treat undoubtedly wanted to let out. Anyone would have laughed at her. Then again, Treat wasn’t like anyone else.
She was amazing.
The wolf walked closer to the crackling fire, a smile still etched on her face, and like a memorized child, Moxie followed. She paused when Treat did, examining the snowy ground in a peculiar way, and she leaned down when Treat did too, both of the women resting on their covered shins, while the warmth of the fire caressed their bodies. Its touch was light, like a fleeting presence—or perhaps that was just what Moxie associated with any kind of comforting touch.
Watching the fire dance, even when it was all alone and forced to feed on the fuel around it in order to survive, Moxie looked down at the bucket in her arms and sighed. The sigh was quiet, she made sure it was, but Treat had good ears, and Moxie was too tired to deny that she had made the sound at all. That was why she turned her head to the left, her lips curling into a smile.
“Here,” the fox said, placing the black-colored bucket in front of the other. Treat's gaze flicked from the container to her. “I want to learn how to peel them, but I'll wait until Mochi feels better.”
“I'll teach you soon, then,” Treat promised, reaching into the bucket and flicking open the pocket knife with a click, “but I wouldn't say I'm the best at this.”
“At least your peeled potatoes are actually peeled.” Moxie laughed, and Treat's smile widened just a tad.
“I guess so.”
“It's a good thing my girlfriends can cook,” the fox added, once listening to the fire and the clunk the potato scraps made when they fell into the bucket with the others had made her antsy. Unlike Treat, Moxie didn't like the silence. If it lasted for too long, the brunette would be alone with her thoughts, and her thoughts were nothing but cruel. Putting her hands up and stretching, Moxie fought back a yawn, only grinning. “It's hot. Everyone wants a partner who can cook well.”
Except she couldn't cook well at all, so didn't that make her even less appealing?
Moxie put her arms down. She started to watch Treat far more intensely than she had been before, but no amount of staring could tell her what she was doing wrong. Sitting there, while the wolf peeled the starchy vegetables, all Moxie could feel was shame, and maybe, just possibly, a bit of jealousy too.
Treat's hands knew what to do. The entire process seemed to come far too easily and far too quickly when Moxie herself had struggled for the longest time, her failed attempts at peeling the potatoes being followed by frustrated, pitchy groans and wasted seconds of trying to breathe in and out in order to calm herself.
The worst part of all was that Moxie knew how stupid her thoughts were. Treat had experience out in the mountains, and she had experience peeling potatoes, but Moxie just wanted to be skilled at something for once in her life.
Sometimes it seemed like the only thing she was good at was putting on a persona, but if Treat could see through it, then maybe she was never good at that either. Chai, Moxie's friend, had always been a better actor anyway.
In a world with such talented people, there was no way Moxie could ever wish to catch up with them. She would be better off creating her own activity and not allowing anyone else to do it.
“Not really,” Treat said, and Moxie had nearly forgotten what she had said before, a pang of pure panic shooting through the young woman's body when she reached the irrational conclusion that Treat might have been able to read her mind. Moxie herself believed that certain gifts could be attractive, but mind reading was not one of them.
“H-Huh?”
“Not everyone wants a partner who can cook well… If someone can already cook pretty well, then they probably wouldn't question anyone else's skills.”
“Is that why you and Mochi like me?”
“I don't consider things like that at all,” Treat explained, flinging yet another potato scrap into the bucket. “I-I just want to give my love to the people that deserve it… I haven't really fantasized about future partners… or spouses.”
“But if you had to?” Moxie asked, a certain glint in her eyes.
“Right now?”
“Right now.”
“I guess… I'd see you and Mochi,” the wolf answered with a warm smile, flicking the pocket knife in her hand, and before Moxie could coo some kind of response, Treat put the potato she was holding back into the bucket with the other two and slid the black container in front of her girlfriend.
“Wha—? Why are you…?”
“I thought you'd want to put them in the water,” Treat elucidated, and the confusion on Moxie's face quickly morphed into cheerfulness.
“You know me so well.”
Straightening her back and leaning forward, the fox grabbed one of the potatoes, placing it into the pot. She liked the way the boiling water moved, adjusting to the additional presence. She liked the way the water rose.
Something so simple brought her so much interest as she added yet another potato, because Moxie had never been one to cook before, and she hardly ever thought that she would have to. Embarrassingly enough, her diet had mainly consisted of snacks, and if they were keeping her alive, then Moxie had believed she could continue to live off of them, no matter how dizzy she'd get or how tired she'd feel. She hadn't planned on growing old. Now she wasn't too certain how she felt—especially if Treat wanted to marry her.
Taking the third potato out of the bucket, Moxie raised her hand, and soft lips suddenly met the corner of her own. The young woman squealed in surprise, the last potato falling from her hand and thankfully into the boiling water below.
Pulling back and covering her lips to silence the noise that she had already made, as if it would stop anyone from waking up, Moxie stared at her girlfriend with blown eyes. Not even her hands were big enough to cover the blush that quickly stained her cheeks, and her heart pounded even faster as Treat leaned in closer, her breath fanning against Moxie's ear.
“Mochi wanted me to give you a kiss for her,” the wolf whispered. “To thank you.”
Moxie quickly shook her head. She didn't know why she did it, seeing as it wasn’t like she didn't believe Treat, but it just felt like the right thing to do. She was flustered and stupid, and it took all of the little strength she had to stop shaking her head before she could embarrass herself any further.
“I'm gonna get that… that critter!” Moxie exclaimed, speaking through her hands, and she dropped them after a moment of hesitation, gulping down the sensation in her mouth and taking a deep breath despite her face still being so red. “I could've used a warning! M-Moxie could've…”
Without finishing her sentence, the brunette instantly fell forward, embracing her gray-haired girlfriend in a tight hug.
“Thank you,” Moxie mumbled, burying her small, black nose against the crook of Treat's neck so that the wolf couldn't see the tears that sprang to her eyes.
She had been so angry at herself before. She had felt so useless and unneeded, just like she had always been, wondering how she planned to take care of anyone if she couldn't even take care of herself, but Treat had been the one to distract her, to calm her down.
Moxie wanted to say something about it. She really did. She wanted to explain how thankful she truly was, but that act would make her look vulnerable, and she knew the importance of looking strong more than anyone else. People were a little bit nicer when you looked stronger, even the people who were supposed to care about you.
A conniving laugh forcefully fell from the fox's lips. She was too tired to focus on anything else that happened to be negative.
“I'm gonna stay like this until the potatoes finish boiling,” Moxie stated with a smirk, “and you can't stop me.”
“Okay.”
Moxie frowned at the lackluster response, even if it brought her comfort that Treat didn't mind her touch.
“You're so boring sometimes, puppy.”
“I'm not a baby.”
“But you're my baby,” Moxie playfully teased, a grin spreading across her face. Bringing up her left hand, she poked at Treat's soft cheek.
“Okay,” the taller woman answered with a slight smile, and Moxie got the smallest suspicion that she had repeated the word on purpose.
“Boo!”
★ ★ ★
“Oh!” Mochi exclaimed, with her eyes wide and a silver spoon pressed against her chapped lips. Sitting cross-legged on her sleeping bag, with a dark gray bowl in her lap, the bunny added, “That's surprisingly good!”
Moxie, who was sitting in front of the shorter woman, turned her gaze to the wolf at the bunny's side, opened her mouth, and placed her right hand on her chest, mimicking an offended expression.
“N-No, I don't mean it like that!” Mochi explained, fighting a chuckle. “The soup's great. I like it. The potatoes are so soft…”
“Turns out I'm as good at smashing potatoes as I am at smashing something else,” the fox joked, smiling brightly. “Someone else. What do you think, Treat?”
Treat looked at the pink-haired woman beside her, giving no response, and the bunny only laughed at Treat’s usual reaction to Moxie’s typical comments, her giggles quickly turning into another coughing fit. They had been interrupting her rest.
With worry etched on their faces, Mochi’s two girlfriends immediately tensed up, Treat resting a hand on Mochi’s shoulder and Moxie grabbing the silver-colored cup at Mochi’s side, trying to hand it to her. Mochi slowly shook her head, turning it down.
“It’s fine,” the bunny said, starting to weakly smile after wiping her lips with her bare arm. “Besides, I have you two here. Your presence already makes me feel better.”
“Just drink the water, Mochi!”