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I sat down opposite him, my paws resting in front of me on the table. I didn't know what to say. Harry had always been the strong one in our group. It was his support that had brought me through the trauma of my father's death and my mother's long and painful recovery after the car crash. I felt a touch against my left paw; Harry had reached out to me, instinctively I clasps his paw in mine.

'Thanks, Nerd.' He said.

We sat for a while, the kitchen growing darker around us. After ten minutes or so, Harry let go of my paw.

'I'm heading to bed.' He said. 'Thanks again.'

I nodded and watched as he left the room. I sat in darkness for a while. It had been a long and tiring day, but I was still determined to try to find out more about the Oxfold family. That and I had to try and help Harry. I stood up and felt the bones in my spine and tail crack as I shifted position. I headed upstairs to bed.

Overnight, the sunny weather had broken. I was woken by an almighty crash of thunder and the sound of rain lashing against the window. There was a blue-white flash of lightning and another crack of thunder, I huddled down under the covers. Ever since I had been a puppy, I had had a fear of thunder.

I cast my mind back to when my family had lived on my mother's farm in the Borders. The Borders seemed to be where the whole country's weather came together. As a consequence of this our farm was often underneath lightning storms that were of apocalyptic proportions. As a little puppy I was always terrified that our farmhouse would be torn to bits; that the thick, whitewashed stone walls and the heavy slate roof would be torn apart. I would cower and whimper in my bed until my mother would come to me and nestle me into her fur and curl her tail around me. She would always sing the folk songs she had learned in her youth.

My mother had grown up on that farm and learned the ancient ways and customs of her family; traditions from beyond the Borders. She sang me the songs of her youth; songs in her ancient ancestral tongue. She had never told me the meanings of her songs, but I had translated some of them at Anskar's. I remember worrying that she would be angry that I had translated them, but when I showed her, she smiled and thanked me.

Now, whenever there were storms I would repeat the verses my mother had sung twenty-five years before:

The wind blows down the valley,

The clouds grow in the sky,

The world is rocked around us,

We remain: you and I.

_ _

The gales shake the high treetops;

You cannot hear my word.

Though you are scared and fretful,

Rest safely in the Lord.

_ _

So, put your paw in mine, love;

We will live through this night.

Feel my love embrace your soul,

Heed not the weather's might.

_ _

I repeated the song quietly to myself until the storm passed. Thankfully, the storm blew itself out quickly, as summer storms often do. I slowly came out from the safety of the covers. I could feel my hackles coming down and my ears going back from flat against my head. I dressed quickly, I had a horrible feeling that I had a packed day ahead. Just as I was coming down the stairs, the doorbell rang. I all but jumped out of my fur. I took a moment to regain my composure before I answered the door. Anna was standing on the step, water streaming down her face and off her whiskers.

'Anna, you look half drowned!' I said. 'Come in out of the rain.'

She came into the vicarage, leaving a damp trail behind her. I ushered her into the kitchen and headed back upstairs to find her towel. When I came back down again, I found Anna deep in conversation with Harry. I just caught the tail end of the conversation:

'... Got himself locked in the chapel and the principal had to call the fire brigade!'

I coughed loudly from the doorway. Harry looked up and smirked. I passed the towel to Anna, and said:

'I see you've already met Reverend Cormack. Don't believe a word he says!'

A muffled noise came from under the towel as Anna dried her face and head and tried to reply at the same time. She reappeared looking drier, but distinctly fuzzy.

'I said: of course I trust Father Harry.'

I laughed at this, it was the first time I had heard anyone call Harry "Father" without him growling and swiping his claws playfully at his unfortunate victim.

'Well,' I said, 'Just take what the good Father says with a pinch of salt!'

This earned me a batting about the ears from Harry. I fended him off with both paws.

'Sorry, Anna,' I said, 'Don't mind us. Why have you come out in the pouring rain first thing in the morning?'

'I didn't realise that you had a guest. All the same, I would like to speak to you. Privately, please.'

This was not what I had expected: over the past few months, I had come to expect Anna to chat away quite happily in front of anyone and everyone.

'Of course,' I replied, 'Shall we go through to my study? Would you excuse us, Harry?'

Harry nodded and waved to us with his coffee mug. I led Anna to my study and pulled the door closed behind us. She settled herself into the big armchair by the fireplace and drew her foot paws up underneath her body, curling her tail into her lap. I turned my ancient office chair around to face her, as always it creaked alarmingly as it took my weight. I folded my paws together and looked at her over the top of them.

'So what's up?' I asked.

Anna shifted her weight nervously in the armchair. She groomed at her whiskers and eventually said:

'It's about the other day. When... Umm...' She trailed off into silence.

I didn't say anything. I had a feeling that there was more that Anna had to say, she appeared to be gathering her thoughts. I studied her features as she sat there. I hadn't realised how deep the golden colour of her eyes were. Now, I could also see that there was a fleck of rich hazel in her left eye. Her nose twitched slightly as she thought. After a short while she caught my gaze.

'I'm sorry about what happened. I don't want you to take it the wrong way.'

She lapsed into silence. I nodded.

'I've known you for a while now.' She continued. 'I think I'm the only parishioner who has seen you in that scruffy T-shirt you wear!'

I groaned and smiled at her. She smiled back and fiddled with the tip of her tail.

'Look,' She said, 'I just... No. I like you, Father, a lot.'

She fell silent again and looked into her lap. I looked at her, I thought I could see where Anna was headed.

'Anna,' I said, 'I don't want this to be weird between us. Umm... Do you want to, perhaps, go for a drink at pub this evening, maybe?'

Even as the words came out of my mouth, I was wishing that I could snatch them out of the air. I was being too forward. Or so I thought, Anna smiled and looked relieved.

'That would be lovely.' She said. 'I've been wanting to get to know you more since you moved here.'

'Great, shall I pick you up from yours after I've said evening prayer? About seven?'

In my head I sounded like an overexcited puppy, but this didn't seem to worry Anna.

'Brill!' She said. 'I'll see you later, then'

she sprang out of the armchair and grabbed me around the neck, she squeezed me into a hug and then bounded out of my study and, in fact, out of the vicarage. I could still feel the tickling sensation of her fur against my nose.

I walked slowly back to the kitchen stop Harry looked up.

'She was nice.' He said. 'Blimey, Nerd, you look like you need a coffee.'

I accepted the proffered mug, marvelling that he knew his way around my kitchen in a few days (a few hours, really), better than I did after six months.

'Seriously, though,' Said Harry, 'you look shell-shocked, what just happened to you?'

'I think I've just asked Anna out on a date.'

'What?' Harry's eyes were like saucers. 'You?'

I couldn't help but burst out laughing at my situation stop

'I know, I know.' I said, still laughing. 'I haven't been on a date in ten years. Yeah, it has to be ten years - my first year at Anskar's.'

'Come on, Nerd, you're acting like a puppy. Calm down. Anyway, don't you have to say morning prayer?'

That brought me back to reality. There was indeed a normal working day ahead, or so I hoped. I glanced at the clock radio.

'Blast!' I said. 'It's quarter past already! I've got to go. Do you want to come from morning prayer?'

'Of course.' Said Harry. 'You're not going to walk are you? It's still heaving it down.'

I glanced out the window? The rain had intensified and was pouring down the pane.

'I think I'll drive round.' I said with a smirk. 'I wouldn't want your fur to get all wet! And, you'll smell of wet dog!'

'Wet lynx, thank you very much!' Harry retorted.

We drove around to the church and arrived with moments to spare. Although no one ever came to the weekday services, I would never let myself be late or let services start late.

During morning prayer, I realised that for too long I had been saying the daily prayers alone. I had missed the blending of even one other voice in prayer. I had spent my time at seminary with Harry beside me in the chapel. I think that for both of us that morning our prayers were tinged with nostalgia.

Once we had finished, we both sat in silence. Above us the rain was still drumming on the church roof. I made a point of being available to anyone in the area by spending one morning each week in the church and around the village. I always had the same routine: I would sit in the church and work through my admin and, if the weather allowed, try to spend most of my time not doing admin, rather sitting on the churchyard wall and chatting with passers-by. The normal run of things was such that I would chat to the mums coming back from dropping their children off at the school and then see nobody until Anna brought me a cup of tea around mid-morning.

I settled down at the rickety folding table at the back of the church and picked up the topmost piece of paper from my admin pile. I could hear Harry moving around as he took the opportunity to poke about. I've yet to meet a fellow priest who wouldn't take even the smallest chance to have a nose around somebody else's church. I remember saying the exact same thing to Father Jorge Terrestris when he visited the parish from his jungle diocese. Sadly, he took offence (it turns out that tapirs are very sensitive about their noses!); and I spent a very awkward fifteen minutes trying to explain what I meant.

About half an hour passed and my stack of paperwork shrank agonisingly slowly. I was saved from the horrors of the diocesan missional statistics return (a form that is just as boring as it sounds) by the church door creaking open. I looked up and suppressed a sigh. Through the door walked Arthur Oxfold's young lackey, Gerald I was just wondering why Oxfold would feel the need to send one of his goons to me again, as Gerald sat down. I looked across the table at the young fox. He opened and closed his mouth a few times and clasped and unclasped his paws as he sought for the words he wanted. I realised that the swagger had gone from the fox; his puff and bravado had all but melted away.