Freelance Christmas Cheer Dealer (Donkey, Cuddling, Undescribed Sex) --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Summary: It is Christmas, 1800. A chasseur in northern Italy is tasked with guarding an important Caravan. His opposition? A donkey girl with a knack for firearms. Wordcount: 3,493. There were flurries whipping past as the storm roared overhead. Daniel rushed to grab the reins of the horse as it bucked. He was on the ground as Francis shoved him out of the way. There were crunching bones and screams. More screams as the wagon crashed sideways, its horses unable to turn on the icy road. Daniel reached the crashed wagon the same time the crimson-cloaked lady did. Her head was a horse’s winter hood, and she escaped aboard a one horse sleigh. He chased after, mounting one of the recently crashed wagon’s drafts. Then bandits, Bravii, friends of the Austrians and thus enemies of the emperor. They emerged from the trees with their eyes on the sleigh. With lances they prodded and poked Daniel’s thighs as he hopped onto the thieving horse lady’s sleigh. Instead of killing her, he fought off the bandits with her strange four barreled firearm. A mustached man’s neck exploded into a bloody geyser of blood and flesh. Daniel cheered but the horse hood came soaring by and underneath was not a mare’s snout but an ass’s muzzle. She screamed “HOLD ON” in perfect French as they went over a cliff. Then Daniel’s vision blurred, until the rheum cleared away and he could make out the hood of the donkey woman. It was hanging over a fireplace, waving with the hot hair which wafted over the smell of pine needles. A cold, tingling sensation permeated in all Daniels limbs. He wiggled his toes and fingers, then wrists and ankles. When he moved his legs he saw the folds of the bear skin move. With the skin's brown fur he blocked the hood and the fireplace. Finally he moved his arm to scratch his nose, and noticed peering under the skins that he wore nothing. ‘Where am I?’ he thought, drowsy and barely able to keep his eyes open. His neck no longer bound by the stiff collar of his uniform, it cricked as he turned right. The light of the fireplace cast amber light across the wide hall. Under the ceiling’s dancing shadows was a table covered in vague shapes. Though it was dark he could make out streaks of reds and greens. It reminded the Frenchman of his hometown's local reliquary. A window over the center of the table was dark, and from outside he could hear the howling of a blizzard. A series of pops greeted Daniel’s ears as he turned left. The warmth of friction between his craning head and the felt pillow was a welcome comfort. This feeling passed as he turned and the donkey woman became center of his vision. She was sitting in a chair facing him, head slumped over in sleep. A red blanket draped across her rose and fell with every quiet breath. 'Strange dream,' the young man contemplated. He shifted to face her, using his left hand to better prop up his pillow and head. Behind the sleeping anthro-ass another table, larger dark shapes across it. Metal glintedthrough the shadows and Daniel remembered the firearm. It had four separate barrels, each one with its own flash pan, attached to a rotating pipe on a stock. A pull of the trigger caused the lock to ignite and fire the top barrel. Rotating the muzzle automatically primed the lock, no time wasted reloading. Why she didn’t use it on him filled Daniel’s mind. It was under her seat, bundled in a woolen blanket. She handed it to him s soon as Daniel was crawling over the back. Couldn’t she have blasted him and any other fool who got on her side? Did he have weapons so great in their ability to kill this was but a mote in gods eye? “Merde,” he whispered. The donkey woman’s ears flickered and her eyes opened to reveal pools of green. She smiled a grin that Daniel thought was beyond the capabilities of a mule’s facial muscles and spoke. “Hello!” The female voice started Daniel, but not so much to disturb his current comfort. “Hello,” he croaked, and realized that he was rather parched. “Water?” “Okay!” She rose, her blanket falling to reveal a bare chest that made Daniel's back ache. She walked over to a clay pot next to the fireplace, the large ass of the ass bending over the jar. Water swished before she stood straight and turned to face the bedridden Frenchman. She held with both hands an earthenware cup in front of those heavy breasts. Nothing covered her crotch or belly, which to her credit seemed toned like a soldier's. She handed him the cup, to which he drank with his head against the pillow, and she chuckled. “Is it part of your culture to not sit up when you eat in bed?” the donkey woman asked as she picked the blanket off the wooden floor. Daniel sat up in his bed before finishing his drink. Cup empty, he scooted towards his host. He watched her as he placed the cup beside the bed. Then with a cough shifted back to his previous position. “Sorry. I’m new to French.” Her ears went down but the smile got wider. “That was a genuine question.” “No. Thank you.” He looked around the room some more. “Where am I?” “This is my log cabin!” “Who are you?” “I’m Dorothea!” Her red blanket shuffled."What’s your name?” Daniel’s back straightened. He contemplated getting out of the bed to stand at attention. The warmth made him decide against it. “I am Soldat Daniel Lavigne of his Emperor’s 31st Regiment, 2nd Battalion, 1st Chasseur’s.” He spoke with no infliction. “What is your rank and to whom do you owe your allegiance to?” The ass lass played with her lip and looked off into the distance. Then she jumped from the chair triumphantly. “I am Dorothea Georgiakakis, ex-smithee of the Corcyra branch of Nock-Jover Co. Now, freelance holiday cheer dealer.” This unexpected answer filled Daniel’s mind with more pain as questions flooded it. ‘How does a donkey from a Greek Island gain opposable thumbs? Stand on two legs? learn Greek, English and French? And gunsmithing? Then, how does she turn up in Northern Italy to steal rewards from the occupying French army? Et Cetera Et Cetera tits vagina.’ He thought. Instead of saying any of this, he closed his eyes and fell back into the pillow. “Oh my! Are you alright?” Daniel felt something soft and cold against his forehead. “You have a little fever. I’m going to remove your covers, is that okay?” The Frenchmen opened his eyes to see Dorothea’s nose in his face. He scrambled to bundle the furs around him. “I’ll take that as a no.” The mule lady went back to sitting, covering only her knees. “How are you able to talk?” He asked, his mouth chattering after speaking. “Same as you, silly! There’s a muscle in the back of the throat named the larynx.” She opened her mouth wide and pointed at it. “Think of it like a... church organ. Larynx is the foot thingy that controls pitch. My mouth and tongue are keys that control the actual noise.” ‘What the fuck is a larynx? How does she know what it is?’ echoed Daniel’s aching consciousness. “Why are you in Italy?” “Oh, it was an accident. I was delivering a letter on horseback to some correspondent on Mount Pantokrator. Horse reared, hit my head on said correspondent's house, and then woke up in Italy.” She tapped- or rather, clopped- her hooved foot against the wooden ground twice. “The house followed me. Isn’t that cool?” “How the hell does that work?!” Daniel yelled. “I don’t know!” Dorothea whooped back, smiling to show she accepted the was impossible. “But if it weren’t for it, I wouldn’t have my current job!” The idea of mules riding horses preoccupied the Frenchman’s mind. After five minutes, he convinced himself that it was possible. At least it was somewhere in the world. Then he realized there was a much, much more important question that he had forgotten to ask. “What were you doing robbing one of his emperor’s gift caravans?” He spat out the question, the pain of his headache increasing. The Donkey woman's ears dropped as she began wiping tears from her eyes. Daniel felt his heart aching, and he stuttered to say something. But then the donkey woman raised her hand. “I....” she starts, pausing to wipe her face and blow her nose into the red blanket. “I was going to give your gifts to the needy.” Before Daniel could respond, the donkey woman got out of her seat and walked over to the table behind her. A candle in hand, she took it to the fireplace and lit it, then returned to the table. Now illuminated, what covered the table weren’t falconets or nock guns. Instead were pots, kettles, ice skating blades and disassembled flutes. She walked to the table on the other side of the fireplace. The reds and greens Daniel noted before were enamel-painted wooden horses, dolls. Even brightly colored toy muskets lay against the table's legs. Finally, the donkey woman walked over to Daniel’s right bedside and set the candle down. She squatted, then stood straight with a familiar lacquer box. Across its side in red letters was the word “réveillon”. “I... I know Saint Nick redeemed thieves rather than encouraged them. But God knows I’m trying to do the right thing.” She set the box down next to Daniel, tears welling up in her eyes. “I’m sorry. You can have your presents back.” Daniel’s headache dissipated, replaced by a severe case of depression. As he watched her slump back into her chair, he reflected on how she had treated him so far. “Miss....” he began, his mind strained as he tried to remember exactly how she pronounced her surname. “Georgiakakis. I am sorry for my rude manners...” “Hmm?” she sniffled, looking up at him with teary eyes. “I have been treating you as the enemy when you have done the opposite of any Rus or Tyrolean...” Daniel looked around the cabin as he grasped for words. “For instance, if it weren’t for your amazing smithing skills I would’ve been dead.” “Oh?” Dorothea’s eyes widened. “Yes! Your four-shot musket killed men who could’ve killed me.” The Frenchman’s mind began to draw blanks. He tugged at the mattress underneath before finally the words reappeared. “And they say a second chance at life is the greatest gift you can give a man.” A grin appeared on the donkey woman’s face so large she had to close her eyes. “Mr. Lavigne, you don’t know what your saying...” she teased, waving a hand at him. “Maybe. Could be the fever talking. Or the death throes of a mind succumbing to the cold… But even so, you are the nicest apparition I’ve met. Why you even warned me when we were going over the cliff. If you were truly bad spirited you... you wouldn’t have give a damn!” Daniel’s mind felt completely empty, not even a feeling of happiness present. His eyes got heavier, and as he closed them slowly he heard Dorothea ask “Mr Lavigne? Daniel?” He heard the clatter of something hollow against wood. Goosebumps rose as the of the bearskins disappeared. Demons played with his limbs, and he knew that he was dead. Then, more warmth. Something touched the side of Daniel’s head, as soft as velvet but as sturdy as leather. A warm breeze traveled down his neck as he felt two pillows press against his back. The demons disappeared as Hairy arms embraced his person with warmth. Hours passed. Bird's chirping and heavy breathing replaced the storm's howls. A ray of light from a window blinded Daniel as he opened his eyes. He tried to shift away from tit but found that he was stuck. Wrapped around him looked like the legs of a horse and the arms of a man. Both covered in the same shade of Grey fur. The warm wetness of Dorothea’s nose pressed against the back of Daniel’s neck. With her every breath she tickled him awake. He struggled to free his right arm from her embrace, then ruffled the hair between her ears. The donkey woman yawned, then tightened her hug . “Five more minutes.” “Madame G- Dorothea?” Daniel uttered as her cuddle strangled him. “Hmmm?” “Please let me go.” “Okay.” Free at last, Daniel turned around to face his host. Frizzled hair covered half of her face while she pressed the rest into the pillow. Daniel brushed it aside, and greeted by those beautiful viridescent ponds. “Excuse my...” She yawned as she stretched, arm popping like roman candles. “Lack of manners. Your fever got worse, So I tried an old home remedy.” “Cuddling?” “Mhmmm” Dorotheas hand brushed his cheek. “There are more...rigorous methods of burning out a fever. But they would’ve required you to be awake.” The Frenchman smiled as he pieced together what she said. Disturbed at first by her body, now he was curious. Grabbing her butt, Daniel pulled her in close and pecked the top of her nose. “Thank you madame.” “You’re welcome” she giggled. As awkward as it was, she moved her muzzle in front of his lips to return the favor. It was quick, but Daniel grabbed her head and pulled her in for a longer, more passionate kiss. An hour later they looked no different, though they breathed in the same erratic way. Daniel’s hair was in as much of a crimped state as Dorothea’s. But they looked at one another as if they had been lovers forever. Then Daniel walked out of his bed to Dorothea’s side, and bent over. “What is it?” She asked. Daniel stood up again with, reveillon box in hand. He threw it against the ground and the box’s lid broke off. Inside were four balls of gold that he picked up and carried with him into the bed. He offered one to Dorothea.. “They’re champagne chocolates.” She took the candy, stripped its cover and bit into it. “Delicious!” Exclaimed the donkey woman after swallowing. She finished it in two more bites, then licked her fingers. “Thank you so much!” “Though I don’t think you could’ve divided these between all the peasants in the valley...” The Frenchman looked down at the three remaining chocolates. “You do seem to be a miracle maker.” “Stop it.” Her fist hit the side of Daniel’s arm in a playful manner. “I have to ask though.” He handed her another chocolate. “Why do you feel the need to do all this?” “All what?” “Spread Christmas cheer?” Dorothea finished another chocolate, and then wiped her mouth. She brought the bear skins up and laid against the pillow. A minute passed, and then she began to speak. “This cabin was not built to be inhabited during the winter. Its main purpose was to house a bookkeeper from Nock-Jover every July. When I found myself here I had to adapt the cabin.” She pointed at the rafters overhead. “Before the incident the roof collapsed twice. Corfu carpenters repaired it then, while my father focused on teaching me smithing.” Dorothea took a deep breath, and under the covers she touched Daniel’s thigh. He held her hand in a tight grip, and noticed that she didn’t have nails or fingertips. Keratin tipped each digit so that her grip was like sticking your hand in a box of rocks. He rubbed her thumb, and she continued her story. “At first I wanted to leave for Corfu or sleep in someone else’s home. But that was easier said then done. I discovered your world was inhabited by...well...your people.” “You don’t have humans where you come from?” “We did, but they were servants. Every royal had a few humans. It was a sign of immense wealth.” She looked at the window over the wooden toy table. Snow had been piled against it except for the very top, where a sliver of light covered the toys underneath. “I guess how I got here is the same way they got to my world.” Daniel thought about a fire that ripped through his hometown when he was twelve. There were ten missing afterwards but only six charred remains found. None of the missing four bodies were found. He shivered but found Dorothea tightening her grip on his hand. “Do you know of others like me?” “There were rumors.” He thought for a second. “Versailles was said to be staffed by people dressed as Fauns and Satyrs. But they were all killed when the revolution came.” Dorothea kept her eyes on the window, flinching when the Frenchman rubbed her cheek. “So I had two options. Find a carpenter, or learn.” She turned to him and smiled. “Guess what I chose?” Daniel was unable to guess before she talked again. “I observed a family of loggers two miles from here. The males worked on things while the women kept the house in shape.” “Is that strange where you come from?” “What? Nah. Back home I’m the outlier. My smithing skills were because of my father’s choice.” She stuck her tongue out and held back a chuckle. “A family-run business means employees with life-long experience, you know?” The Frenchmen nodded, though he had no experience with such matters. His mother was a maid and he a pewter-man’s apprentice before conscription. “Anyways. I observed the family as they worked on projects inside their barn. Three boys and a father, all working together to get things done. Replacing a day sailors keel, fixing a neighbor’s broken wagon. Even a farmer’s plow from the next town over.” With her free hand the donkey woman held the last chocolate. She looked it over and studied the crinkled tin covering its surface. “Then one day my big break game. Huddled in my usual spot, I watched the inside of the barn from a crack in the back. The doors bursted open and the family scrambled to grab their equipment. Even the mother and daughter were tasked with helping.” Without removing the foil Dorothea ate the sweet meat. “All piled into their big sled and headed to the town.” She gagged, and pulled the foil out from her mouth with a chuckle. “It was difficult following them. Had to use back routes and several forests as through ways. But I reached the town as the family started their work.” “Mayor’s roof collapsed. With help from the rest of the townsfolk wood was cut and debris removed. Then I saw the entire process for assembling a new one.” She pointed a hoof-tipped finger at the hood over the fireplace. “If you look on the inside you can see my notes.” “Alright. What does this all have to do with your....” Daniel waved his free hand about, looking for the right words. “Current preoccupation?” “I’m getting to that Monsieur feisty.” Dorothea elbowed him playfully in the ribs. “So the family sleeps under one of the townsfolk’s roof through the night. Then come mourn they leave, never stopping to wake the mayor for payment.” “What?” “I know right! And that’s when I realized what day it was...” “Christmas?” “Exactly!” The Donkey woman slapped him on the shoulder. “Ever since then I’ve been trying to repay the family and the townsfolk for their kindness...” A warmth touched Daniel’s heart and filled his soul. He smiled such a wide grin that his bedmate started to laugh uncontrollably. He grabbed her with one arm and brought her in for a tight embrace, kissing her cheek over and over. “Stop it, Stop it.” she playfully cried out. Then he delayed pulling back from one kiss, as he came to a realization. “Dorothea... I was escorting the caravan Christmas Eve...” The Frenchman looked down at their intertwined hands. “What’s today’s date...?” Daniel’s heart ached as his lover frowned while she spoke. “I think its the day after Christmas...” He looked away from her, at the chair where she slept the first time they talked. Thoughts of the chase came flooding. ‘Would she have gotten away from the bandits had he not got on board? I’m sure my weight must have contributed sled not turning. Perhaps if I had let her go with the box then...’ His thoughts froze as Dorothea pulled him in for a deep kiss. “I know what you’re thinking, Daniel. Stop it.” She whispered in his ear before pulling back. Her expression was somewhere between flustered and disappointed. “What?” “If I hadn’t trusted you with that gun, I’d be dead. At least now I have a future chance to spread cheer. Thank you, Daniel.” With that she kissed him again, and the two embraced before tumbling over the side of the bed. From the outside their hearty laughs carried over the forest. Then silence. Though if one where to put their ear to the cabin’s walls, they would hear murmurs and moans.