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One might say that I was a fool who fell from grace. I was a war hero, had land, status and a title. Yet I lost all of it due to an act of lust. I was Viscount Maugham, now I'm merely known as Hugh Maugham, if other Furs can bare to speak to me. However, I no longer care. I was trapped in a world where I had lost the one individual I had cared for. The remaining members of my family were distant to me, and I quickly came to the conclusion that I was living in a ruin. I do not feel that I fell from grace. On the contrary, I feel I have been liberated.

The events began during the summer of 1905. I had travelled across Africa, working as a colonial officer while returning from fighting a strenuous war against the Boers in Transvaal. I collected my medals at a ceremony in London and moved back to my ancestral home, Bramfold Hall in Norfolk. The estate had been looked after by my cousin Samuel during my absence. My kit George and my mother in-law, Arabella Beaufort, also lived on the estate. I had married Arabella's beautiful daughter, a vixen by the name of Mary Beaufort, ten years ago. However, consumption had cruelly taken her from me during my time abroad. After her death, Arabella and Samuel had moved into Bramfold Hall. I found Samuel an affable fox, whereas Arabella was both fearsome and interfering. She had a personality that was most unlike her daughter, who was always kind, compassionate and not one to obey all the rules. I guess that was how we fell in love, we were both young and rebellious. A memory that still amuses me is one of the second year of our marriage, she secretly took a train to Manchester and participated in one of those early "Votes for Female Furs" marches. She was terrified when I found out, but I secretly admired her spirit and said nothing of it. Arabella would surely have been appalled if she had found out, she came from a lineage of noble foxes, and was glad that I married Mary. I had inherited the title of Viscount from my father, came from a noted line of foxes and owned a large amount of land with my family estate. In the eyes of most Furs, I was a respectable gentleman. However, since Mary's death, Arabella had been keen to impart her influence on George. George rather fell under her spell while I was away in Africa. Although he is my flesh and blood, I felt that with my time spent travelling and his terms at boarding school, I had become a stranger to him. Bramfold Hall was also in need of repair and Samuel contacted me during my travels to say that he had found an architect who could do all the necessary work for us.

I remember being chauffeured up the driveway in the Panhard Levassor, the stones crunching under the tires. The familiar sight of the Hall came into view. I had remembered it as a beautiful yet imposing house. When I had left, it had stood regally among its surroundings. But now it looked old and tired, not even the July sunshine could liven the sight up. The West Wing was covered in sheets and scaffolds. I was dropped off by the front door and my footman, a dutiful Basset Hound by the name of Frederick, came to help me out "They've started work on the Wing, sir" he explained, although it was pretty obvious, "the architect, Mr. Earnshaw, wanted to speak with you" "Of course, please introduce me to him" I instructed. Frederick led me over to a lone Fur who was engrossed in a sheet of paper, holding it with his left paw while his right arm hung by his side. Frederick gave a polite cough and the figure lowered his paper. The Fur was a tall, broad and rugged looking wolf. His fur was a silvery-grey colour, but by far his most striking feature were his eyes. They were a deep and rich shade of amber. They lit up as they caught the sun peering out from behind a cloud, like a coal fire being lit as the flames shoot up. His clothing was a strange combination of gentleman and manual labourer. He wore canvas trousers dusted with chalk, with a white shirt and tweed waistcoat. A silver watch chain hung from his pocket. He extended his left paw "Viscount Maugham I presume" he said in a deep, melodic voice. His grim was firm, but not too hard "Pleased to meet you, Mr..." I prompted "Earnshaw, Ted Earnshaw" he introduced himself, bowing his muzzle slightly. Arabella would surely have snorted in disapproval at Ted's manner of introduction, but such formalities never bothered me too much "Excuse me Viscount" Ted said. He turned to shout instructions at his work-furs who were clambering up the scaffold. I realised at that moment that my class of Fur, the country gentlemen in manor houses, would soon be on the way out. Ted represented the future, an educated Fur with a skilled trade, employed others to work for him and would surely generate a good income. Yet, I did not feel at all concerned "You can call me Hugh" I said as Ted turned back to face me. The words had slipped out of my mouth before I had a chance to consider them. Ted's eyes widened a fraction and he cocked his ears in curiosity "I'm not sure I could, Viscount" he said eventually. Not wanting to make a bigger fool of myself, I nodded and allowed him to explain his plans to me. His amber eyes shone as he spoke. I confess that I did not play attention to much of what he said, but found myself mesmerized by his eyes. I bade him good luck on his work and turned to walk back to the front door. I was cursing under my breath, what had possessed me to say such a thing and why was I gazing at him like that?

I spent the remainder of the afternoon sitting in the drawing room with Arabella and Samuel. George was still at school and was due to come home tomorrow. Arabella spent the afternoon complaining about her various ailments and at how the staff had grown idle in my absence "You need to do something about it Hugh!" she snapped, sipping tea from her Wedgewood cup. I sighed and gazed out the window. Outside, I could see Ted standing on the driveway, observing the work being done. He must have sensed me looking as his amber eyes turned in my direction. Ted was too far away for me to see him clearly, but to this day I am convinced that the wolf smiled back in my direction before turning away. It was at that moment that I felt a peculiar sensation in the pit of my stomach, one that I had not felt since I had met dear Mary for the first time. It was also the similar to the feeling I had got on the eve of a skirmish in Transvaal. Both fear and excitement. Part of my mind knew what it was, but the other half told me that it was impossible. Male furs did not love other male furs, at least not in a romantic sense. I averted my gaze and looked back into my teacup. I was only vaguely aware that Arabella had stopped talking and was waiting for me to answer her "I'm sorry Arabella?" I said. She let out a deep sigh and wrinkled her muzzle "I was talking about Mr. Earnshaw, that wolf looks like a ruffian. They way in which he dresses! I think he's on the drink too" "Charles Pomeroy said that Mr. Earnshaw did a most commendable job on his property" Samuel cut in "Well I, for one, don't trust Mr. Pomeroy's judgement" Arabella snorted, before launching into another rant. I made an excuse and left the room. The weather outside was still fine, so I made my way to the grounds and through a copse of trees. Beyond it lay the family plot. It was peaceful and quiet place to be buried, away from the bustle of the house. My wife's headstone lay under the shade of a yew tree. I stood above it and suddenly felt very alone. Although I owned the estate and the land, Mary had been the only aspect of my life I had truly cherished. Now that she was gone, I felt an awful, hollow sensation inside my heart "Sleep well my dear" I said, kissing my paw and placing it on the headstone. I closed my eyes, trying not to let the tears form.

Later that night I was in the library. During my time in Africa, I had missed sitting down to read a good book before bed. As the evening drew in, dark clouds had filled the sky. Soon, rain was lashing against the windows. I held a glass of brandy in my paw and gazed out the window, unable to concentrate on my book. Above the noise of the rain, I thought I heard the sound of a cry. Intrigued, I stood and made my way to the window. It came again, it wasn't a cry, but a howl. Outside, I could see the unmistakable figure of Ted stumbling about on the driveway, growling and moaning to himself. I knew Samuel and Arabella had retired to bed, but I did not want Ted to wake them up. Without putting on my coat, I made my way down the hallway and out of the front door "Mr. Earnshaw!" I called to him. Ted turned to face me. His fur was matted and his clothes were sodden. There was a bottle clasped in his paw. I rushed out into the rain "Ted, what are you doing?" I asked. Ted eyes gazed back at me through the rain. He was panting heavily "I'm, I'm sorry" he moaned. I could smell the alcohol on his breath "Let's get you indoors or you'll catch your death" I said, leading him back towards the door. I led him to the library, took the bottle from his paw and made my way to the kitchen to make a cup of tea. I arrived back to find him slumped in a chair, his clothes dripping water on the floor "T.. thank you" he stammered, as he took the cup in his paws "Whatever was that all about?" I asked. Ted looked at the floor, not sure of what to say. We sat in silence for a moment as I allowed him to sober up. The rain had turned the white material of his shirt transparent. I could see his strong and firm looking chest, but also what looked like scar on his right arm. It was an ugly, red line, cutting through a bald patch in his fur. It stood out against the other handsome and perfectly sculpted features of his body. Ted caught me looking and instinctively covered up his arm, looking ashamed. Despite his broad stature, he suddenly seemed vulnerable "You went to war too?" I asked. Ted nodded "I was at Talana Hill" he explained "shot right in the arm, you should have seen the other guy" he forced a smile "but what I saw was ghastly. My friends, we all left England together, but they were all killed in front of my eyes. I tried to save them, but there was nothing I could do. When I work during the day, I can forget about it, but when I sleep at night, I still see it" he gestured to my glass of brandy "that's the only way I can get it to stop". I immediately felt a rush of sympathy for the Wolf. The war had indeed been brutal and arduous. "I was in Transvaal, my wife caught the consumption while I was away..." I began, but I could not finish "I never married" Ted said quietly "I feel so..." "Alone" I finished for him "as do I. I may have Bramfold Hall, but I no longer have someone I genuinely love to share it with". Ted suddenly shivered and sneezed "We need to get you warm" I said.

I led him to the bathroom, turned the taps to fill the bathtub up with hot water and retrieved two freshly pressed nightshirts from my bedroom. Ted reached to unbutton his shirt but his paws were shaking "Here, allow me" I said, reaching over. Ted did not show any sign of protest, so I undid the buttons and slipped his wet shirt off "I'll have these dried and pressed for you" I assured him. Ted then removed the rest of his clothes and climbed in the bath. He lay still, allowing the warm water to run over his fur. I reached over, took some of the water in my paw and let it fall onto his chest. Some of it splashed onto my sleeve. The steam from the water rose to the ceiling, and I began to feel hot in my clothes. I stood and unbuttoned my shirt. Ted watched as I undressed, his amber eyes gazed intensely at me. The expression in them was passionate, yet curiously soft. They conveyed to me that I should get closer to him, but not to hurry if I felt any sense of discomfort. I finished undressing and knelt beside the bathtub. I continued to scoop the water onto Ted, not caring if any got onto my fur. I reached under the water and began to explore his fine chest. Ted reclined, allowing me to feel him, before he took hold of my paw "Thank you Hugh" he whispered to me. I smiled down at him "Don't fret, I won't tell a soul" I replied. I had not been in such an intimate situation since Mary had died, and the familiar feelings of pleasure and contentment coursed through my body. The thought that I was sitting naked beside another male fur was longer any concern to me. The scar that ran down his left arm was more pronounced. I gently stroked it with my paw. I could feel Ted's body trembling slightly "We fight, do one's duty, then there is no one to take care of us. No one understands" I mused. I reached over and stroked my paw down his muzzle, trying to comfort him. I could see Ted's eyes grow wet, whether it was bath water or tears, I did not know. I kept stroking his face with my paw as the feeling of excitement rushed through me.

Eventually, Ted climbed out and I handed him a towel. He shook himself dry and slipped on the nightshirt "My room is on the other side of the house" he said apprehensively "Everyone else should be asleep" I assured him. Part of me wanted him to spend the night in my room, but the other half of my mind was telling me the idea was preposterous. After all, Mary had been the only other fur to occupy my bed. It did not feel right to share it with anyone else, just yet. Ted nodded, showing that he understood "I'll begin my work again at six" he said, his tone was suddenly more formal, as if the intimacy in the bathroom had never happened. I watched as he turned and made his way down the gloomy hallway. I returned to my room and climbed into bed. Although it was a summer night, it felt unusually cool. The rain continued to lash hard against the window. I sighed, I should have asked Ted to spend the night with me. I wondered whether Mary would have understood. She may have been shocked at the idea at first, but like me, she was always unconventional in her habits. I liked to think that she would have wanted me to be happy, no matter who I was with. I rolled over and began to drift off. I felt glad that no one had heard the ruckus Ted had made outside, at least that is what I believed at the time...