Ander - Part 2: Subchapter 25
25
It's been nearly a month... Sarah thought, a whole month since I last saw him...
She struck the soil with her hoe hard enough to bury the blade up to the hilt. The sun was already beating down on them all, even though it was still early morning. She didn't care. Maybe the heat will keep her from thinking of Kadai every five minutes.
Like she was doing right now.
"Stupid, stupid..." She raised the hoe high above her head and swung it down more like an axe than a farming tool, hacking away at the dirt like it was the one responsible for her misfortune.
"Um, Sarah? Are you feeling quite all right?"
"Yes, Michael."
"Really? Because you don't seem to be quite all right."
"Whatever gave you that idea?" Sarah said, ripping the hoe out of the earth.
"Oh, just a guess," Michael said, dodging the barrage of dirt clods flying his way.
"What do you want, Michael? This isn't your row."
"It's a crime, this is. You working out here with the rest of us lowly farmhands."
"Ha! You're no lowly farmhand. Your parents are even wealthier than mine. Only reason you're working here instead of on your father's farm is because you want to get into my father's good graces."
"Whatever gave you that idea?" Michael said with a wink.
Sarah stood up straight, the hoe gripped tightly in her hands, and Gave Michael a glare that could have struck an adder dead on the spot.
"Okay, okay!" Michael said, raising his hands. "I'll admit it, even though that's only half the reason."
"And what's the other half, pray tell?"
"You, Sarah. I genuinely like speaking with you."
"What you're doing is keeping me from my work. I need to finish these rows before noon or Father will be after my head."
"Let me help you."
"No, I can do it myself."
"He works you too hard. Here, hand me that hoe..."
"I said I can do it mys -" A wave of nausea suddenly erupted inside Sarah's stomach, so fierce and sudden it doubled her right over.
"Sarah?"
She could feel it bubble up inside her, travelling up her throat, shooting into her mouth...
"Are you sure you're feeling quite all r-"
Vomit exploded from Sarah's mouth and nose, horrifically bitter, burning her sinuses, splashing all over the tilled soil, fusing with it to make a disgusting kind of barfy mud.
"By the gods!" Michael screamed, jumping out of the way.
Sarah stood there, her hands planted on her shaking knees, breathing heavily, looking down at the mess she had made.
"Oh, gods! My boots! You got it all over my brand new work boots!" Michael said, but Sarah barely heard him. She's never felt so horrible, not physically, at least. The time she ate all those bad mushrooms didn't even come close to this. She felt like she was about to die. The nausea may have come on suddenly, but it didn't seem to be in any hurry to leave. She could still feel it throbbing inside of her, and she couldn't keep from imagining it like a big glob of pond scum. The slick layer of vomit coating her throat and the thick rope of drool hanging from her lips didn't help either. And the smell...
"Sarah, I really don't think you're quite all ri-"
"Huruuaalgh!" She did it again, she didn't know how she could possibly have done it again after apparently emptying all her vital organs onto her father's cornfield, but she did. The sounds the chunks made as they plopped into the pool of her last - Oh gods she could feel another one coming on...
"Okay, that is it!" Michael said. "You are most definitely not quite all right! Let's get you back to the house."
"Michael, I think I'm gonna..."
"Shsh, that's okay, just lean on me. That's it, I've got you." Michael took her arm and wrapped it over his shoulder. She felt so weak she wouldn't have been able to stop him even if she wanted to.
"Michael, I'm serious, I'm gonnaaaauurlgh!" Her stomach convulsed and pushed out yet another hot stream of vomit.
"Whoopsydaisy!" Michael said as most of it landed on his right pants leg. He sounded surprisingly jovial about it.
"I'm sorry, Michael," Sarah mumbled. She simply couldn't speak properly anymore. Doing that would mean moving her tongue around, and she couldn't handle that right now. The taste... she just wanted to wash her mouth out with some water. And maybe blow her nose...
"That's quite all right, Sarah. No problem at all."
"But... your..."
"It's just pants, girl. And a pair of boots. And I think you might have got some on my sleeve there, but really it's fine! We'll get you inside and have some tea, how's that sound? Whoa, don't step in it! Let's just skirt around here... and there we go! Not much farther..."
Sarah listened to him carry on in this vain for quite a while, her head resting against his shoulder, until his words eventually fused together into a confusing, but oddly soothing jumble. She thought she might be drooling on him a little bit, but if she was, he wasn't saying anything about it.
Despite his odd character, Michael really was a nice Fox, and Sarah was grateful to have him here with her now, when her body seemed intent on destroying itself for some inexplicable reason.
Oh gods, there might be another one coming...
*
Sarah was lying on her bed, back in her night clothes, her body drenched with sweat, staring at the wooden pale her father had fetched from the shed. She had one arm curled around it, ready to assume what she has already started to call the 'barf position' the moment she felt another attack coming on. She's gotten quite good at it over the past hour, during which the pale has had to be emptied twice. She was starting to feel a little bit better now, but it still felt like her insides had been trampled by a herd of wild stallions.
"Oh, guuhhh..." she moaned. The smell of her own breath was enough to make her feel queasy all over again, so she closed her eyes and tried to focus on something else.
If she listened very carefully, she could hear her parents talking downstairs. Yes, that would do nicely. Anything to distract her from the ghastly roilings of her own stomach.
"So she threw up? Just like that? No warning at all?" That was her father. A Fox of facts, he was.
"It came gushing out like a river, sir," Michael said. "Honestly, I never imagined so much bile could fit inside a vixen so slim."
Sarah didn't trust herself to laugh in her current condition, but she did allow a smile to spread across her face.
"How awful." That could only be Mother. "Thanks for helping out, Michael. Now you be sure to give that to your mother right away. I know how much she loves my apricot jam."
"As do we all, ma'am." Michael replied. "You'll let me know how Sarah's doing, won't you?"
"Of course we will. Now run along. We'll take good care of her, don't you worry about that."
"Thank you, ma'am. I'll bid you good day, and you too, sir."
Father grumbled something unintelligible, and then came the sound of their front door opening and closing. "Like a river, he said. Damn."
"Awful."
"I know. All that acidity can't be good for the soil."
"Markus! Your daughter is ill!"
"Then what are you doing standing around here for? Go check on her, woman!"
Sarah rolled her eyes, but even that minor movement felt like strenuous exercise in her current condition, tiring her out like the hoeing of a dozen acres. She breathed in... and out... and in... and out... listening as her mother climbed the steps.
"Sarah, sweetie?" This accompanied by a soft tapping at her door.
"Uh-huh?"
"How're you feeling?"
"Urugh..."
"I see. Can I come in?"
"Uh-huh."
She heard her door open somewhere behind her, but she just didn't have the strength or the motivation to turn over. And she'd rather not risk moving her head more than two inches away from her precious barf-bucket.
"My, my, my. You look an awful mess, deary."
"Uh."
"Have you been eating those awful toadstools again?"
"Urk, I haven't done that since I was six, Mother."
"Then what's brought all this about?"
"I dunno... please just let me rest a while..."
"Should I call for a healer?"
"Nuuh."
"Or how about some of my apricot jam, hmm? Mixed with some honey? That should fix you right up."
"Oh dear gods." Sarah lifted her head just enough for her muzzle to hover over the rim and dry heaved nothing but smelly ropes of spit into the bucket for what felt like forever, her muscles contracting to expel something that wasn't even there. After all this time, it would seem she's finally run out of vomit. "Hoooookay..." she said, taking long, slow breaths. "Hoooookay... hoooookay..."
"Is that a yes for my honey apricot jam, then?"
"No! I mean, um... no thank you. I er... think it best I don't eat anything for a while. I just want to go to sleep."
"All right, deary. If you need anything, just give us a shout."
"Uh-huh."
She heard the familiar creak of her bedroom door closing, but it stopped halfway.
"Um, Sarah?"
"Uh-huh?"
"There's no way you... um... I mean to say, is there a chance you could be...?"
"Wha?"
"Oh, never mind. It's probably just a bug you caught from one of the farmhands. You just get some sleep and focus on getting better, all right?"
"Uh-huh."
The door finished its creaky song and the click of the latch told her that Mother was finally gone. Sarah closed her eyes and tried to get some sleep, but there was a problem.
It was still morning!
Her body might be tired, but her mind was still awake, and she couldn't get it to turn off at such a weird hour, so it just randomly roamed about inside her skull, going over the conversation she just had.
What was up with that weird bit at the end? Mother wanted to ask her something, but then bailed.
... is there a chance you could be...?
Be what? Sick? That was painfully obvious. Could she have caught something from the farmhands? She doubted it. None of them were sick, and she would have noticed if any of them were absent or throwing up in the bushes. Besides, she very rarely went near them. Or, to be more precise, they very rarely went near her. Her father was the one who paid their wages, and they knew any moonlight romantics would be a sure-fire way to get fired. And by 'fired' she literally meant being set on fire, as was the memorable case of one brash young Fox who made the grave mistake of trying to chat her up while Father was within earshot. She didn't go into town very often, but if you believe the stories (and she has no reason to doubt this particular one), that Fox still has bald patches on his tail.
Plus, Father's greediness was so well-known throughout Grovenglen it was almost a joke. He would only have his daughter mated to a Fox whose family was capable of paying a substantial dowry, hence the suitors like Damian and Eric and William, none of whom she really liked. Michael wasn't so bad, but he can be a bit of an oddball. She just didn't feel anything for these Foxes. Nothing at all. To her, they were just a random group of acquaintances.
In fact, the only male she's ever been really close to was Kad -
Sarah's eyes flew open, the realization hitting her even faster than her bout of nausea, harder too.
"Oh no, oh no no no..." Why'd she have to go and think that!?
... is there a chance you could be...?
She cautiously reached underneath her nightshirt and felt all along the perfectly flat surface of her belly with a trembling hand, not feeling anything out of the ordinary.
Well of course you wouldn't! It's only been a month!
No, I'm not feeling anything because there is nothing there to feel! Kadai's a Wolf and I'm a Fox! It's impossible! I'm not even going to think about this anymore, so shut up!
How would you know whether it's impossible or not!?
Because it just is!
Sarah sat straight up in bed, ignoring the wave of dizziness that suddenly threatened to overwhelm her. She lifted her shirt up and tucked it underneath her chin to get a proper look at herself.
There was the familiar fur pattern of white and brown, soft and sleek, just as it had always been. Nothing different.
She prodded herself with her fingers, feeling absurdly like a housewife kneading a lump of dough to bake bread.
Oh, something's baking in there all right.
No it's not! Shut up!
When was your last cycle?
It was -
Wait, when was it, exactly? Sarah did some very hasty, very stressful counting in her head.
The last time was about a week before she and Kadai... um... were together, so...
That means you should have had another last week, but you didn't.
No! That doesn't mean anything! Maybe I'm just late!
You've never been late before. It's always been twenty-eight days with you, every time, like clockwork. Tick-tock tick-tock.
She raised her chin and let her shirt fall down, covering her traitorous body. "Oh dear gods up in heaven," she prayed, feeling like a pup talking to the ceiling. "Please oh please don't let this be true. I can't handle this right now, I just can't."
As if in answer, another wave of nausea washed over her, doubling her over with its force. She leaned forward and let her head hang between her knees, fighting the urge to dry heave yet again. She certainly didn't want Mother to come up here with a big heaping spoonful of apricot jam and honey.
It's probably just a bug you caught from one of the farmhands...
Oh, she caught a bug, all right, but it didn't come from one of the farmhands, oh no. It didn't come from a farmhand at all...
Special thanks go out to my mother for describing to me (in unnecessarily vivid detail) exactly how horrible it was to be pregnant with me. xD
Another thing worth mentioning is Sarah's *ahem* "cycle." (I'm going to speak bluntly, so sensitive fursons might want to skip over this next part.) I did a lot of research but I simply couldn't find out one way or another if foxes get periods. Some articles say they do while others say they don't (same thing with dogs), so I decided to take things into my own hands.
Sarah is an anthropomorphic fox, after all, and that, by definition, means that she has human characteristics. That's why I feel justified in giving her a human menstrual cycle. Makes it easier for me to write, and easier for my readers to understand what's going on.
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