"Quiet Whispering" | mariteaux
Here at home
Last modified: 3/17/2020
January 20, 2020. One whole goddamn entire year of CabyCammy. A year spent dedicated to my Caby, the softest, sweetest, comfiest, most caring, most talented, and most fun to talk to girl I've ever met. We've been through a lot together, but we're too damn powerful to let anything get in our way.
As always, the especially gay stuff's under lock and key, but to publicly commemorate it, I wrote a little piece about exploring a stormy forest in the fall with her. Check the page source if you wanna know what photos I took inspiration from. Adore you, I do, man. Now, forever, until we ascend.
"Man, I really hope it doesn't rain while we're out here..."
Cammy scanned his eyes along the foggy treeline and gripped his Caby's left hand firmly in his right. The path in front of them grew misty, a far cry from the morning's gentle cloud cover over a warm sky. The leaves twitched and tapped from the droplets, and Cammy's pads were soon coated in moist soil. He'd been soaked out in the forests before, far from towels, far from home—he knew how unpleasant wet clothes could be.
Caby could sense his unease and ran her thumb across the palm of his hand. "All good, my love," she cooed. "We'll find shelter soon."
"I hope so," he sighed.
They continued down the dirt path in earnest, keeping an ear out for a sudden downpour to start. Even with the threat of a soaking, there was no denying the forest's beauty. The two made chatter about angular tree roots covered in soft, lush mosses that occasionally disrupted the path and the bright, colorful early fall leaves that'd come to visit them down on the ground.
Through the varying green and fiery foliage, Cammy could see the drifting current of a brook a ways underneath them and the ground dropping off to meet the water's edge. He kept a close eye on the surface for raindrops; even in the swirling, disrupted current, he could see the storm making its presence felt.
"Cammy! A bridge!"
Indeed, as the path gently inclined (and then steeply declined at the brook), a mossed-over cobblestone bridge took over for the rest of the path. Caby was the first to climb it, leaning over the stone wall and peering out at the waterway. Smooth rocks and stones distorted in the refraction of the stream, and the swishing of running water surrounded the bridge on both sides. It didn't look or sound particularly fast, all things considered. Frankly, she considered taking off her shoes and wading around in it.
Cammy followed her up a moment later, leaning over her shoulder and hugging her from behind as he too gazed outwards. For a moment, the rain stopped registering; the river was too wide, too shimmery to care. He imagined what might call the deeper regions home, how big the fish would get, the tadpoles jiggling around, and the algae making the riverbed slick to the touch.
The badger boy was startled back to reality when he felt a large raindrop splash his snoot. The storm looked much heavier now, and more and more of the bridge's flagstone was becoming wet.
He whimpered. "We're gonna get soaked."
Thinking quickly, Caby scanned around for cover, noticing the sizable area of dry soil directly underneath the bridge and pointing to it. "We can hide under it," she whispered to him, and to this, he nodded.
The path's drop-off was just as steep as it looked, and they went down one after another (Cammy taking the lead) to avoid a slip landing both of them in the drink. Using his toe claws to dig into the dirt a little and holding the side of the bridge with his better hand, the badger boy made it down to the bottom in one piece. Despite the dry dirt, the rocks were still shiny with splashes from the current, but Cammy didn't mind them nor the slick tree roots much.
Around the corner, he leaned against the base of the bridge, sighing in relief at the shelter. There was more than enough space for both of them. "All good, man," he called up to her, and down she went much the same.
Not a moment too soon did the storm grow heavy. The cacophony of the droplets almost matched the stream in volume, perhaps even overtaking it. Down here was where the fog was thickest, almost pure white further out.
Mostly dry and safely protected, Cammy was more than happy to enjoy the scenery again. He leaned out slightly over the brook and pointed upstream to a small waterfall. "It looks too small to feed the entire river, doesn't it?"
Caby only pulled him back with a grip on his chunky paw. "Looks fine to me," she said before kissing him where the rain had wet his snoot. The two locked hazy eyes, and Cammy now wore a flustered little blush from the sudden kiss.
"Mm, think you might be—distracted a bit..." Cammy whispered.