The cold wind bites at my nose as it blows across the field. Aside from the whispers of the breeze, all is quiet. No words, no movement, not even the birds crow. They all know what is about to transpire. Opposite from me stands Major Hunt. A blonde haired burly man of twenty-five, clothed in the blue wool uniform of a hussar. He had distinguished himself in the killing whilst fighting for Wellington in Portugal. If I were to die here today, I would just be one body among the many he's left in his wake.

Still, I must fight. To turn and run, to go on living after what he did, doing nothing in reprise. That would worse than a thousand deaths.

I still recall the inciting offense as though it had occurred not five minutes ago. Mr. Summers, Mr. Williams, Major Hunt, and I were playing a game of cards at The Black Colt, the same as we had every prior Saturday since that unfortunate incident at the gentleman's club. The Major was the newest addition to our group. Although he was a complete stranger to me, Mr. Summers and he were deep friends, having fought together in Portugal. He was rapidly becoming friends with Williams and Myself as well, though I did find his crass demeanor somewhat bothersome.

We discussed a great many things, and somehow the topic of the declining quality of service at pubs came up.

“If you think the service here is bad, you should see the servers in London. Half the time I wonder whether they're drunk or simply don't know English,” Major Hunt said, lifting his glass and taking a drink, “then, of course, the other half of the time I realize its both.” He continued, prompting a hearty chuckle from Summers.

“You said it, Danton old boy.” Summers responded, “It seems to me that the bringing in of foreigners and the elevating of the commoners has dragged society down to the gutter.”

There was a brief pause.

“What do you think, Walter?” he said to me.

I had been so caught up in the cards, I hadn't spoken for most of the conversation. It caught me off slightly guard, but I was able to maintain my composure and keep my poker face. I considered the subject for a moment, then replied.

“The part about commoners I'll certainly agree with. If you try to make a peasant a king, all you'll accomplish is to make the king a peasant.”

“But what about the foreigners? You can't possibly claim them to be right and proper gentlemen.” Hunt said, pushing through my deflection.

“I have met many foreigners just as ladylike and gentlemanly as any Englishwoman or Englishman. Some even more so than some of their English counterparts.” I replied firmly.

“Then you must not have met any of the proper English gents I have known, no Frog or Spaniard could hold a candle to them.”

“Perhaps not, there's not much opportunity for one to meet the pinnacle of English society when he's sailing around the West Indies.” I say, trying to change the subject

Hunt stops and his widen, “You were a sailor?”

“I was. Three years aboard a 6th rate patrolling the Mediterranean, and three more aboard 4th rate in the Americas.” I said, hoping to draw his interest towards stories of the war, and away from our previous conversation.

“Well then, I don't blame you for having such a high view of foreigners. Compared to the savages of the dark continent, even vagabonds and highwaymen are nobility. And God only knows what debauchery those subhuman Woodlanders in the Americas get up to. Compared to them, the Frogs are practically angels.”

His words struck me like a slap to the face. Subhumans? I didn't care what he said of those dark skinned savages or their Arabic neighbors, but I could not abide him insulting Woodlanders like that.

Summers, perhaps sensing the anger his words stirred in me, attempted to salvage the situation. “You do know that not all Woodlanders are savages, old boy? There is a small population that's dwelled in England since long before even the Roman conquest, and they're just as English as you or I.”

“English or not, they're still animals. Does a dog being English make it any less a dog?” He said confidently. His confidence shifted to perturbed shock as his eyes fixed on something behind me. “By God, there's one now.”

The rest of the table's eyes widened in horror as they realized just who Danton was referring to. I, briefly drawn from my ire by their expressions, turned to see what they were staring at.

A slender red vixen stood at the entrance. Her scarlet face was a triangle which came to a point at her narrow snout. It was accented on either side by streaks of black, with a chin white as snow. The snow white fur traveled down her neck, expanding into a plumage of fluff which was covered by her dress. Her slanted green eyes flicked across the room attentively, briefly locking with mine and giving a seductive stare. Her head was partially shielded by a wide indigo hat, the front of which was decorated by white roses and a single silky black ear which poked out from its side. Her body was covered by a long blue dress which matched her hat. It closely hugged her figure, accentuating her tasteful bust and hips. Underneath she wore a white chemise that was exposed at the sleeves, neck, and feet. Her scarlet fur faintly showed through, leaving a pink outline on the fabric. Her hands were gloved in a coat of natural black fur. Gracefully, she walked to the counter and spoke to the bar man.

I was so entranced by her beauty that I had completely forgotten the insults spoken by Danton just moments prior. That was, until he opened his mouth again.

“Gah! Do they really intend to serve that filthy animal?” said Danton.

At once I spun around in my chair and glared directly at him. The murderous rage welling inside me so apparent, even that fool could see it.

“Ah, good to see you've at least some sense of disgust left. I say we all go together and tell the management that we will not tolerate flee ridden beasts being served alongside us.”

At that point I could not abide it a moment longer. I took my glass and threw its contents in his face, soaking his tunic with wine. He was frozen with shock for what felt like an eternity. As was the rest of the pub. He sat there, his eyes wide and his mouth agape. Eventually, he found his words.

“Damn you, sir! That uniform was brand new!” He shouted whilst climbing from his chair.

“Damn YOU, sir! That is my wife!” I shout, pointing to November.

The Major was again taken aback, but he quickly regained his previous fury, “I don't care what creatures you practice bestiality with, you ruined my brand new uniform! It cost me twenty pounds!”

Bestiality? No, that couldn't go unpunished.

“I'll have you for for that.” I said plainly.

“What?”

“I'll have you for that.” I affirmed, “Name a time and a place.”

Allen leapt between us, “Come on now, Walter. He didn't really mean that. He was just upset over cards was all.”

“No, I meant every word I said.” Hunt interrupted, “And I want my twenty pounds, or I'll have HIM for THAT.”

“I won't give you a damned thing.”

At this point Summers jumped in, “Come now, old chaps. Think of what you're saying. Twenty pounds isn't worth dying over.”

“My wife's honor is.” I proclaimed.

“If this loony tart wants to die over some flea ridden bitch then, by God, I'll help him to it.” Hunt replied, “Tuesday, two o'clock in the afternoon, the field behind the church.”

“Wednesday.” I said.

“Alright, Wednesday.”

And just like that it was settled. I would fight a man to death in three days.

Now here I stand, in the field behind the church, looking down the man I wish to kill, knowing he intends to do the same. Our seconds approach. Mr. Summers had agreed to be the Major's while Mr. Williams had agreed to be mine. Sir Mosley followed closely behind them. Being the owner of the land, and a friend to neither I nor the Major would act as referee.

Williams breaks off from the group, turning towards me, while Summers turns towards the Major.

“Are you still sure about this?” He asks, a grave look upon his face.

“Yes.”

“I see.” His expression deepens. “Pistols or swords?”

I think for a moment, I'm confident in my abilities with a pistol, but I don't know his. Then there's the chance of a misfire and the simple inaccuracy of the weapon. Finally, I feel that pistols aren't personal enough for what he said about November. I want to feel his flesh part as I cut him down.

“Swords.”

Williams turns and shouts to Summers. “Swords!”

Summers converses with the Major for a moment, then replies “Swords it is.” He Turns back to the Major and converses some more.

“To the death?” He shouts to us.

“Death is fine.”

“Death.” Williams shouts.

Another pause for them to converse.

“Death it is!”

Sir Mosley clears his throat and speaks in a stately voice. “Then its decided, fighting with swords until death. Does anyone object to these terms?”

“Wait! Wait!” I hear a voice shouting from behind me.

“Stop!” Says the woman, her voice sounds familiar.

I turn to see November, in a full sprint, shouting at us.

“Don't do it!”

She reaches us and throws herself around me. Her claws dig into my back and I feel her warm fur against my neck. Its damp. I feel her chest heave as she pants. She pulls her head from my breast and looks me in the eyes. Hers are overflowing with tears.

“Please.” She sniffs, “Please don't do it!” she sniffs again, “Please Walter, my love, I don't want to lose you.” Her eyes stab into my very soul, cutting me deeper than any hussar's saber could.

I put my arms around her waist, grip her hips tightly, and pull her into an embrace. I hold her for what feels like an eternity then pull back to look her in the eyes once more.

“Please don't do it. You'll die.” Her eyes dig even deeper into me.

“I have to. You heard what he said about you. He called you a dirty animal. I can't let that go unpunished.”

“Please don't! You don't need to. I don't want you to.” Her hands climb to my shoulders.

“You remember the vow I made to you on our wedding day? I told you I would never allow anyone to treat you like an animal ever again.”

She pulls my head down to hers, putting us nose to nose. I feel her nose's cold moisture against my skin, and her warm quavering breaths against my lips.

“My honor isn't as important to me as your life.” She cries.

“But it is to me. November, you're not an animal. You're my wife, I made a vow to you, a vow I must keep.” Her heart sank at those words, I can see it in her face.

“No, no. I-I won't let you”

She wraps her arms around my waist tightly and pulls herself into me.

“November, please. I must.”

“No!” She shouted, her voice muffled by my clothes, “I won't let you kill yourself for me!” She sobs. “I won't let you!”

“November.”

“I can- I can't” she gasps

“November!”

“I can't live without you!”

The world froze. Those words rang around in my head. She can't live without me. She's right, she can't What if I did die here? What would she do? What could she do? She can't go home, and people like that bastard Hunt would ensure she'd never be treated like a person here. They'd probably take the house and give it to my cousins, along with my company, and they'd throw her out the first chance they got. She'd be forced out onto the streets to live off scraps like... Like a dog.

“My God, I can't do this.” I thought to myself

I must've said it out loud as well, since she had stopped crying and was now looking me dead in the eyes again. I could see that glimmer of hope in them, peaking out from behind the sorrow, worry, and tears. Like the sun peering through the clouds after a vicious thunderstorm.

I slide my left hand down her back and grip her hip tightly, the other slid up her neck and to the back of her head. With both hands, I pull her body into mine, plant my lips against her muzzle, and gave her the deepest and most heartfelt kiss I have ever given. We stand still, holding each other close, for what feels like an forever. Then carefully, I pull away and give her a warm, loving look.

“My wife and I have discussed the matter of the duel, and come to an agreement.” I said loudly, making sure everyone could hear. “If the Major will apologize to my wife for his words at The Black Colt then I will buy him a new uniform.”

There is a long silence. I stare at the Major wordlessly.

Sir Mosley at last broke the silence. “Does the other party find these conditions acceptable?”

All eyes turn to Major Hunt, a thoughtful look covers his face as he considers it. Then he says something to Summers. They nod at each other.

“Major Hunt accepts the offer from Mr. Collins.” Summers says.

“Then it is settled.” Mosley says plainly. “Mr. Collins, you will pay the cost of the uniform to Major Hunt, and Major, you will apologize to Mrs. Collins.”

Relief washes over me. I hadn't realized previously just how nervous I was, but now, it feels like an anchor had been chained to my waist and it was just cut loose. I look to November to see that she too has been freed from this anchor's pull. Her eyes are beaming with joy, though still noticeable damp, like a bright orange sunset shining in the red sky over the sea. I can't help but smile seeing her like this.

The sound of footsteps pulls me from love induced trance. I turn to see Summers and Hunt standing in front of me apprehensively. Hunt looks at me for a moment, then speaks up.

“I'm sorry for our altercation at the pub, and for letting it get this far. You're a good man, Collins. It would've been a shame to lose you over something as trivial as a uniform. And, from what Summers has told me about your adventures at sea, I probably should've been more concerned about my own life.” he chuckles and holds out his hand.

I shake it firmly.

Then his expression softens and he turns to November, “Madam, I apologize for those terrible words I spoke about you. My mind was clouded by frustration at cards and strong drink. Its clear to me now that you are a lady of the highest repute. For no one less could be married to a gentleman such as this.”

If it weren't for her thick red fur, it'd be plainly apparent that November was blushing.

“Thank you, sir.” She said meekly, still not fully recovered from the emotional tempest that she had just escaped.

“Now, Major, I believe it was twenty pounds I owed you. I only have eight pounds on me, but if you follow me to the bank I can withdraw the rest for you.”

“No need.” He said.

“Excuse me?”

“No need.” He reiterated. “Most of the uniform is still intact. You only stained the tunic. Eight pounds should be more than enough to cover that.”

“Very well then, eight pounds it is.” I say, drawing the notes from purse and handing them over to him.

“Well, I believe that's everything. I must be going now, I'm going to need to get this to my tailor as fast as possible if I want my tunic replaced before I'm called back to the front. Apologies for causing you so much trouble.” He says, walking off and waving goodbye.

One by one, all of the others leave. Until eventually its just November and I.

“Walter.” She says to me.

“Yes, love.” I say, turning to her.

She gives me a forceful slap, just as my eyes meet hers.

“Never do that again!” Her face is now twisted into that scowl which I adore so much.

As mad as she may be, that face never ceases to amuse me. I feel my cheek sting, along with the slow trickle of blood onto my chin. She dug her claws in on that one, and she almost certainly did it on purpose. Even knowing this, I can't help but feel giddy. I choke down these feelings. I can't let them show, lest I incite her to strike me again.

“You would've died had I not stopped you!”

“Wait a minute, my death wasn't so sure. I'm a skilled fencer myself you know. I might've be-” she swings her hand for another slap, but I catch it with my right hand.

My tone softens, “I might've been able to beat him, I might not. Either way, it was wrong to risk dying like that.”

“Hmph,” she huffs. “Well its good to see you've at least some sense.”

“November,” My grip loosens, my hand slides down her arm and round her shoulder. “I'm sorry. Today, I make a new vow. I vow to never leave your side again. Not for as long as you live.”

Her scowls shatters. Her eyes begin to water as she stares into me lovingly.

“You're a hopelessly chivalrous fool.” She quavers.

“I know.”