Joseph and Maurice

It started as a marriage of convenience, really.  Maurice was the best nutter in the colony, and Joseph always remembered where he'd put his stash.  They figured that their teamwork would net them not only more nuts personally, but also the opportunity to start a small business storing and locating nuts for the elders.  The King allowed them the union reluctantly.  There was no law against it in the Kingdom, but he detested that type of marriage, personally.  
The ceremony was held atop the gazebo in Pioneer Park.  Maurice and Joseph perched on the spire while the rest of the colony lined the railings and the rooftop.  The King read from the colony's charter, then from its constitution.  He tucked both documents back into their acorn-top binders and gestured to the couple.  Tails intertwined, they fed each other seeds from the white maple tree and rubbed noses.  Paw in paw, they scampered down the gazebo and away across the grass, through the bright flashes of the tourists' cameras.
They spent that night inside the College clock tower, staring out through the lit-up clock face and up at the stars, trying to imagine a life together.

Joseph had met Maurice on a fall day before his first winter.  He'd been watching ducks bottom-up in the creek, trying furiously to fathom how the flat things on the ends of their noses worked.  He'd tried earlier that day to imitate them-straining to keep a hold on the muddy bank, he'd stretched his head out over the water until he could, with an effort, bury it underwater.  Water flooded into his eyes and mouth; he'd choked and scrabbled backwards, leaving claw tracks in the bank.  Algae clogged his nose, thick and sopping wet.  He clawed at it, gasping, not quite balanced.  With a wave of his tail, he tipped forward, falling headfirst into the creek.  After a moment of panic, he'd gathered what was left of his wits and clawed his way back onto the shore.
Now, fur still drying in the weak autumn sun, he twitched the last few dregs of algae from his whiskers and wondered.  Teeth, he figured.  They must be really long teeth.
There was a chattering behind him, the dry crack of snapping branches.  Joseph looked up: high above him, a squirrel scampered across the thin sticks at the edge of the tree, cheeks bulging with nuts.  A crow hopped along behind him, squawking at the top of its lungs.  Its inky black feathers fanned out like dark sunrays as it tried to keep balance.  As Joseph watched, the crow lunged, beak darting forward to grab the squirrel's tail.  The squirrel squeaked and leapt aside, sailing to the branches of an adjoining tree.  Nuts dropped from his mouth and bounced down the tree, heading for Joseph.  He darted out of the way as they hit the ground, watching as the crow, feathers ruffled, cawed one last caw at the other squirrel's waving tail and flapped away.
When it was gone, Joseph picked up the nuts and stuffed them in his cheeks.  They were still warm from the other squirrel.  He scampered up the tree, working the nuts around until he had enough room in his mouth to talk.  "Hey, wait up!" he called, "You dropped some nuts!"
The other squirrel appeared not to hear him but continued to scamper away, gaining height as he scrabbled up the trunk of the adjoining tree.  Joseph followed, several branches behind.  "Hey!" he called again.  "Hold on!"  
The chase took him higher than he'd ever dared climb.  Up and up and up the other squirrel went, chattering all the way.  At first Joseph thought he was talking to himself, but when Joseph stopped to figure an especially large jump, the other squirrel stopped and shouted back at him, "Just get a running start!  It's not as far as it looks."
That was when Joseph figured he was being led on.  Once he cleared the space, he stopped dead while the other squirrel scampered on ahead.  Joseph spat out the nuts and twitched his tail in irritation.
"Stop running," he demanded, "I've climbed all over trying to give you your stupid nuts back, but if you don't want them I'll just take them and go home."  The other squirrel stopped.
"You're carrying my nuts?"
"Yes," Joseph cried, "That's why I've been chasing you.  I've been trying to give them back.  You dropped them when the crow almost got you."
"Oh."  The other squirrel spat out his own load of nuts and counted.  "So you are.  I thought you were just chasing me to run."  He loaded his cheeks again.  "Well, my nest's just a little more this way, so if you wouldn't mind carrying them for me?  I have kind of a full load."
Joseph shrugged.  Though his legs and claws hurt from so much climbing, he had to admit the race was fairly fun.  And his fur had mostly dried since he'd been moving so much.  "Why not.  Just as long as I'm back by dark."
But the other squirrel had already started climbing again, so Joseph stuffed the nuts back in his cheeks and leapt after him.  
Finally, after crossing three more trees and climbing some more, the other squirrel stopped.  Panting, Joseph dropped his nuts at his feet and gazed around.  They perched at the very top of the tallest tree in the Park, an ancient whitewood with enormous bowed branches.  Joseph could see the entire park from this height: the rolling grass between the trees, the splashes of autumn color on the ground, the narrow creek that snaked its way between gazebo, statues, and aviary; and several blocks besides.  Joseph had known that the huge square structures around the park were people houses, but he'd never climbed high enough to see how they stretched out in straight lines off towards the horizon.
The other squirrel, done stashing his nuts in a hollow, edged over to Joseph.  Gingerly, he scooped up the nuts Joseph had carried and stashed them too, tail ghosting across Joseph's nose as he swayed it for balance.  Joseph jumped, startled, and grabbed the branch.  The ground suddenly seemed an incredible distance away, a thought that was at least as thrilling as it was frightening.  It seemed like maybe, if he just stepped sideways off the branch, he could stand on the air with nothing under him.  Then he'd be able to see everything in the world.
"Did you know that some squirrels can fly?" the other squirrel asked him.
"No way," Joseph scoffed, trying to pretend he hadn't just been imagining the same thing.  "Our arms aren't the right shape."
"Well, not flying really," the other squirrel admitted, "But they can glide anyway."
"I bet they can't.  Cause you know what?  Squirrels can't swim either."
"Oh?" the other squirrel cocked his head dubiously.  "And how do you know that?"
Joseph shuffled awkwardly on his branch, suddenly wishing he hadn't said anything.  For all he knew, squirrels that would climb to the top of the tallest whitewood just to store nuts might be able to swim.  Maybe he just hadn't been doing it right.
"No reason," he said casually, "It's just, you know, we don't have the right sort of lungs for it."  He glanced quickly at the horizon, which was stained red and orange and pink by the encroaching sunset.  "I've got to get back.  It's really lovely up here.  Thanks for showing it to me."
"No problem," replied the other squirrel, offering him a claw to shake, "Thanks for bringing me my nuts.  My name's Maurice."
"Joseph," said Joseph as he shook.

That first winter, Joseph and Maurice began to build their business.  They chattered about their service all through the Park, up and down the telephone lines as far as they could see from Maurice's hollow.  When the acorns began to drop in spring, they checked the usual mother lodes-by the statue next to the park's main entrance, overhanging the pond in the aviary, and in the big oak tree on the college campus, where students would hold out nuts in an open palm for those brave enough to take them.  The colony trusted them completely, and they began to take on clients: first Joseph's ageing grandmother and grampa who couldn't scamper quite like they used to, then the Belladine couple down by the duck pond whose door had caved in over the winter and needed a temporary hiding place.  
In time, even the King began to use their service.  He ordered them to the palace, resplendent in his ceremonial robes made of shed peacock and goose feathers, and proclaimed them the Royal Stashers, in charge of not only his personal nuts, but also the community backstocks.  Joseph and Maurice bowed low, honored, and raced off upon dismissal to celebrate with a family of finches down at the aviary who had imported birdseed.
"You know," drawled the eldest son finch as he cracked a seed in his beak, "I'd give anything to have what you guys have."  Joseph and Maurice had arrived in the aviary several minutes before, and, after the initial round of greetings and congratulations, the finches and squirrels had spread out across birdfeeders and perches to chat and to eat.
"I'm sure you'll find a job one day," responded Joseph earnestly, "You just need to find what you're good at."
"Not that," said the finch as he flicked the seed's shell away, "Someone else.  You know, a Maurice."
"Oh."  Joseph shrugged as he nibbled a peanut.  Why a finch would want to work with someone like Maurice, he couldn't fathom.  After all, Maurice couldn't fly, which would make him useless for most jobs a bird would do.
The finch finished his pile of seed and fluffed his feathers.  "I just watch you two coming, so happy together, and I don't know.  I just feel alone.  There's that net above me so I can't get away, and there just isn't anyone in this enclosure I can care about the way you care for Maurice and he cares for you."  He jumped onto a perch below Joseph and glanced up at him.  "Maybe that's why the caged bird sings.  He wants somebody to love."
Joseph lay down the empty peanut shell and twitched his tail to work out the kinks.  "I'm sure you'll figure out something," he said because he felt some sort of consolation was in order.  The finch was babbling today, like he often did when the weather began to warm up.  Most times Joseph talked to him he was nigh incomprehensible, using words like "destiny" and "soul mates," words Joseph didn't know the meaning of at all.  Joseph put it down to spring fever; when the days got warmer and the sun brighter, all the birds started longing for freedom.

"Hey Maurice?" Joseph asked as they nestled into a tree at the College to watch the sunset, "What's love?"  
Maurice tossed a loose seed pod off the branch and swept away some dry leaves with his tail.  Patting the branch beside him, he gazed out over the campus.  Joseph scurried over to join him, hunkering beside him on the branch.  Their tails intertwined.
"Maurice," Joseph began again after a moment, thinking his husband hadn't heard him, "What's-?"
Maurice twitched his tail against Joseph's and Joseph fell into a grudging silence.  Maurice pointed at the painted sky and leaned back, gazing up through the branches at the first pinpricks of stars.  Following his husband's lead, Joseph gazed up too, following the moon as it flowed out from behind a small springtime cloud.  Maurice wouldn't answer him until the sunset was over; Joseph sat on his question and took a deep breath, tasting the coolness of the night, the hint of snow wafting in from the mountains, and the chemical stink of the mill a few hills down the highway.  Below them, students crackled over the last of winter's fallen leaves and chattered in low tones on their way back from class.  
The tree shuddered in a momentary breeze and Maurice's tail tightened around his.  Dark was complete now, save for a campus streetlight that flickered to life, bathing the two squirrels in yellowy halogen light.  Joseph squinted his eyes, momentarily distracted.  Though they'd sat in this tree countless times over the years, he still couldn't figure out how the people could capture the sun and turn it on once it was gone from the sky.
"You asked about love?"
Joseph started, a little guilty.  "Yes, Maurice.  What is it?"
"Love is a people word.  They use it to describe lots of things.  It can be the bond between a parent and their children or the extreme enjoyment of a particular flavor or substance."
"Like Old Mrs. Cushell and her sesame seeds."
Maurice chuckled, shaking the branch, still staring out at the sky.  
"Yes, like that.  Or it's the bond between two people of about the same age who can barely stand to be apart from each other.  It's the happiness when they see that person again, the completeness and peace they feel when they're together.  It's the often seamless teamwork such people can take part in, the perfect understanding of each other.  
"That type of love can also be wild, though.  Fierce.  Like they need to carve themselves open and stick their innards in each other to prove they're the same person.  Like every minute is on fire, every touch or smile as bright as the sun.
"I've heard it can make a life whole."
Joseph pondered this for a minute as he watched two students-a boy and a girl-stop walking and press their faces together beneath the streetlight.  "Do they have it?" he asked, searching for an example.
Maurice looked down.  "Maybe.  I can't tell from here.  I'd have to see their faces.  There's something about love that lights up a face.  It's unmistakable."  
Joseph switched his tail against Maurice's.  That wasn't helpful.  
"Lots of people in love get married," Maurice added, sensing his irritation.
Aha! A clue.  "Do Grandmother and Grampa have it?"
"I'd say so."
A pause as a crow swooped low overhead, a blot over the pinpricks of stars.  Joseph tried to fit his image of Grandmother and Grampa against all the criteria Maurice had given him.  Most of them worked, but not every one.  He needed more data.
Happiness was a requirement.  Peace.  Completeness.  Fire-Joseph thought that Maurice probably didn't mean the kind that took away Mr. Johnsberg's tree last year-light.  Need.  Passion, maybe?
"Hey Maurice," Joseph began, a little quietly, "Do we have it?"
Maurice stopped looking at the stars.  He turned to Joseph and squeezed his tail.  "I certainly do, for you," he said softly, nuzzling Joseph's whiskers with his nose.  Joseph laughed and batted Maurice away, surprised.
"I think I love you too," he replied, nodding as he said it.  Then he nuzzled Maurice, curling his tail tight around Maurice's.  
"That's good, right?" he asked as an afterthought.
"Perfect," replied Maurice.

The spring passed, and with it, the mating season.  Joseph and Maurice attended every birthing ceremony they could, bringing a necklace of braided reeds for the new babies.  Their business expanded to include the newborns: they took groups of two to three nests-worth down to the closest mother lode and showed them how to burrow, how to stash, and how to carry nuts in their cheeks.  The little ones practiced on seeds Joseph and Maurice brought them from the aviary.  Three of them showed exceptional promise, so Joseph began to teach them how to find landmarks to remember where the seeds were stored and Maurice drilled them on the likely locations of mother lodes.
That summer, three more marriages took place: one between Eselda and Peter, which everyone had been expecting since last winter, one between a travelling couple from the southern end of the people city, and one between a pair of females called Jessie and Wilka.
"You two are such an inspiration," Wilka told Joseph after the ceremony, "We never would have gone this far if you and Maurice hadn't paved the way."
"What are you going to do with yourselves now?" Joseph wanted to know.  Wilka beamed at him.
"Well, we both want kids, so we were thinking of starting a type of daycare for the young ones."
"You can take them," Joseph told her, "They're getting bored with always digging burrows.  It's like they don't think it's very fun."  Wilka laughed and patted his shoulder.
"You're a pal Joseph.  And really, thanks for going first."

For the most part, Joseph and Maurice spent their evenings together at the college, sitting in either the clock tower or their favorite tree and watching the sun set.  According to him, Maurice liked the beauty of the night and the magic of life that swirled around the school grounds.  Joseph liked the sunsets all right-there was a certain majesty about them-but he also enjoyed watching the people below.  He noticed what fur they wore, how they moved, how they spoke.  He watched the contraptions they used sometimes instead of feet: great twiggy things with circles that rolled over the ground.  And day after day he stared at the streetlight, trying to figure how it attracted the sun.
The students thinned out during the longest days of summer, but when the trees began to lose their green, they returned.  Around the first week or two of autumn, Joseph began to notice one male person who sat across from their tree every night, gazing up at the stars.  He had fairly short head-fur, for a human-Joseph marveled on the head-fur on some of the females, almost down to where their tails should be-and wore pieces of glass over his eyes.  Sometimes other people sat with him: a group of females with longer head-fur and one of those twiggy contraptions apiece, but mostly another male with light head-fur and a skinny frame.  The other male, the regular one, had darker fur that went shaggy behind his ears.
Joseph watched him every night while Maurice gazed at the stars, and soon learned that the other people called him "Dayv".  Joseph stumbled his way through the name a few times before giving up.  The "ay" sound was more than he could handle.  
The light-furred male was known as "Spenser"; the females "Kayt" and "Rebeka" and "Clayr".  Joseph had a pretty good database of people facial expressions, and he saw that Dayv smiled most often when he was alone with Spenser.  Spenser smiled more at Dayv too, and Joseph noticed that they often sat closer to one another than to the females.
One night, when Dayv and Spenser sat together, laughing at something Spenser had said, heads inclined towards each other so that their fur almost touched, Joseph brought his hypothesis to Maurice.
"They're in love, aren't they."
Maurice turned to watch the people, ears pricked.  "It looks that way," he said, and sighed.  "What a night for romance, huh?" And he wrapped his tail tightly around Joseph's.

Joseph kept watching Dayv as summer crisped into fall and fall froze over into winter.  Every night, Dayv got to the tree right before sunset and sat down, tugging his fur tight around him.  Most night Spenser joined him, along with the females.  Dayv would laugh and smile at the females, but his gaze was trained mostly on Spenser, though he glanced away whenever Spenser caught him looking.  For Spenser's part, Joseph saw that he generally managed to sit next to Dayv, even if the females reached Dayv first.  Joseph wondered if Dayv realized this, if he could feel Spenser's presence like Joseph could feel Maurice's.
Some nights, though, Dayv came alone.  He was quietest then, and saddest.  He rarely smiled when he was there by himself, or when the females came without Spenser.  Joseph wondered what could make Dayv so sad if he was as in love with Spenser as he appeared to be.  Joseph knew his own unhappiness was always softened by the knowledge that Maurice was near.
It was then that Joseph started to notice that, though Dayv and Spenser would nearly always be close together, they very rarely touched.  They never twined their paws together the way Joseph twined his tail with Maurice.  They certainly never nuzzled each other's faces or wrapped their arms around each other the way many people did.
When Joseph pointed this out to Maurice, Maurice shook his head sadly.  "The people aren't as accepting about two of the same sex being in love.  Remember how much the King opposed our marriage?"
"Yes," Joseph replied, indignant that the usually sappy Maurice was being so coldhearted, "But he came around eventually.  Everyone should get to be as happy as we are."
"Silly Joseph," Maurice chastised gently, "Don't meddle with the people.  Their love is their own to figure out."  He nuzzled Joseph's cheek affectionately.  "Let's go home, huh?  I'm getting cold."

The next night, Joseph persuaded Maurice to come to the tree early.  
"You shouldn't interfere," Maurice told him as they raced along telephone wires on the way to the campus.  "It's not your business."
"He's lonely," Joseph called over his shoulder as he bounded over a transformer, "I just want to see him be happy."
And again, once they'd reached the tree and Dayv had taken his place across from them:
"I know you want to help, Joseph, but I really think you should let them figure it out themselves."
Joseph, ears twitching angrily, balled his paws into fists.  "You know what Wilka told me when she married Jessie?"
"What?"  Maurice remained infuriatingly calm.
"That we were their inspiration.  She told me we paved the way for them.  She thanked me!"  He pointed down at Dayv.  "I want to inspire him too.  What's wrong with that?"
Maurice smiled.  "Nothing, Joseph.  Help him if you must.  I'm sure he'll thank you too."
Jubilant, Joseph nuzzled Maurice's face before scampering down the tree.
Dayv stared at his feet, shoulders slumped.  One of his paws traced invisible designs on the brick pathway with a stick.  Cautiously, Joseph approached, freezing after every few steps to see if Dayv would look up.  He didn't, not until Joseph stepped lightly onto his faded lace-up shoes.  The material felt slick and cool under Joseph's paws, but not as cold as the brick.  He could feel Dayv's foot twitch as he put weight on it.
"Dayv?" he tried.
Dayv jumped, almost tipping Joseph back onto the ground.  From the tree, Maurice called out, but Joseph twitched his tail to hush him.  He didn't want Dayv getting scared away.  Gingerly, Dayv reached down and held out a paw, which Joseph sniffed curiously.  "Hei, litul gui," said Dayv.  Joseph shook his head; he couldn't understand.  "Wut's up?"
Frustrated, Joseph jumped onto Dayv's outstretched paw and stood on his hind legs like people did.  He needed to get Dayv to understand before the females came.  He'd seen how they squealed over his kind, how their eyes widened like a hawk's.  He wasn't afraid of Dayv, but he feared the females.
"I've been watching you," he said, making sure to speak slowly and clearly, "From that tree."  He looked back up at Maurice, who had edged to the end of a branch to watch him.
Dayv followed his gaze.  "Is vat yoor mayt?" he asked.
"That's my husband," Joseph explained.  "He doesn't want me down here.  He's worried.  But I wanted to tell you that I've seen you and Spenser together.  He loves you, and you love him."
"Tawlkahtiv, arnt yoo," Dayv said, smiling wanly.  "I'v seen yoo in th tree wiv yoor mayt.  Yoo mayk a cyoot cupl."
"Shut up and listen!" Joseph shouted.  The sun was getting ready to set; any minute Spenser or the females would be here, and by then it'd be too late.  Well, maybe not if Spenser came alone, but that was far from guaranteed.
Joseph scampered up Dayv's arm, close to his ear.  Dayv laughed as Joseph's whiskers tickled his cheek, but made no move to swat him away.  
"Dayv," Joseph said again, "I know how you feel about Spenser.  You need to go to him.  Let him know.  I know you're lonely without each other, but you can fix that!"
"Yoo shur hav ay loht too say.  I shud show yoo to evryun."
"Spenser," Joseph told him.  But Dayv made no sign that he'd heard.  
Time to get desperate.  Scuttling down Dayv's arm to the sidewalk, Joseph shouted for Dayv to follow him.
"Leeving awlredie?"
Dayv didn't get up.  Frustrated, Joseph grabbed a shoestring and tugged, then ran off a few steps in the direction Spenser generally came from.
"Yoo want mee too fohlohw yoo?"
Joseph repeated the process, shouting as he did.  "Come on you idiot!  I'm trying to help you here!"
With a rustle of fur and a groan, Dayv was upright.  Joseph jumped in the air, jubilant.  He heard Maurice cheering from the tree.  Dayv took a big step forward and Joseph scampered off again.  He had no idea if this would work, if Spenser was really on his way, but at least he'd be able to hold the females off for awhile.
Dayv stepped again, and Joseph spurted farther forward.  He led Dayv all along the building by the tree and rounded the corner.  The streetlight didn't cast much glow here, but the sun was still high enough to light up Spenser's light-furred head like a flame.
Fire, Joseph thought, one of the requirements!
He ran straight up Spenser's leg and arm until he reached his shoulder.  Spenser jumped and almost smacked Joseph away.
"Noh!" Dayv shouted.  Spenser froze.
"Dood, wut tuh fuk!" he hissed.  "This skwurl ahtakt mee!"
"Ssh, ssh," Dayv crooned, stepping closer, "Hee wohn't hurt yoo."
"Wul geht iht awf."  Spenser squirmed awkwardly and Joseph dug in his claws to stay balanced.
"Stay stihl," Dayv ordered.  Placing one hand on Spenser's empty shoulder, he held out the other for Joseph to climb onto.  Reluctantly, Joseph did.  Spenser was too nervous for him to stay on his shoulder.  Gently, Dayv knelt, depositing Joseph onto the path.  Joseph scampered away a few steps, then stopped to watch in case he needed to intervene again.
"Wut wuz with thaht skwurl?" Spenser was asking as Dave stood, "Hahw did yoo knohw hee wuzn't raybid ohr sumthing?"
"Hee wahnted mee too fohlohw him," Dayv said slowly.  "Iht wahs thee crayzeest thing."  He had turned towards Spenser now.  In the dying light of sunset, side-lit by the flickering captured sun in the streetlight, Dayv opened his arms and pulled Spenser in.  Startled, Spenser stiffened for a moment before a smile split his face and he squeezed Dayv tight.  
Joseph sat down on the brickwork.  Finally.  Happiness uncoiled in his insides, warm and fluid.  He'd inspired again.  
Claws skittered against the brickwork as Maurice scampered up behind him.  Joseph bounded over and rubbed noses furiously.
"Good work," Maurice told him, all softness and glowing pride.  Joseph nodded.
Tails intertwined, they bounded back to their tree while the two people walked off, holding each other's paws.

Autumn set in in earnest a few weeks later, and with it came a rush demand for Maurice and Joseph's services.  They ran each day from dawn to dusk, checking every store for the umpteenth time, stuffing in that last seed or that final bit of mossy insulation.  The three younguns who'd shown promise in the spring were something of a help with the more menial tasks.  Joseph was glad of their tireless energy running nutloads from Maurice and the motherloads to the latest cache location.  
With all the hustle, it was several weeks before the two were able to sit in their tree again to watch the sunset.  Most of the leaves were gone, and only the hardiest of dried seed pods remained on the branches.  Some of the students had strung colored lights in the bare branches that burned hot when Joseph accidentally stepped on one.  
The squirrels settled down for the evening in the crook of their favorite branch, tails twined and dangling below them.  Maurice cast his eyes immediately heavenward, and Joseph watched for Dayv.  The sun sank lower over the treetops and building corners, draining light and color from the sky.  But Dayv never came.  Even when it was completely dark and the captured sun flared to life in the streetlight, the wall across the sidewalk remained empty.  Perturbed, Joseph returned home with Maurice, thinking that maybe Dayv just couldn't make it that night.
But nobody came the next night, or the night after that.  The fourth night brought the group of females, bundled in thicker fur for the winter and without the twiggy contraptions.  Neither Dayv nor Spenser was with them.  The night after, they returned with dark sticks that shone with more captured sunlight.  They called out Dayv's and Spenser's  names, but nobody answered.  Eventually, they melted away into the night, still shouting.

The next day, Maurice was called away by a squirrel from a few blocks down who claimed to have found a tree still bearing nuts.  He nuzzled Joseph as he left, promising to be back in time for the sunset.  Joseph left on his own rounds, a quick visit to update the clients about the status of their stores.
"Have you seen the pond recently?" Grandmother asked him when he came to her hollow, "They say there're people in it."
"There're always people in the pond, Grandmother," Joseph told her, and went on to say that her store was all battened down until she needed it.
The story was repeated at the next hollow he visited.
"Joseph, have you heard?  There's two people in the pond!"
These must be some people, Joseph thought as he left, Maybe they're really intent fishermen.  Those came along sometimes, in the park.  They'd set down on a stretch of bank and cast out their line, hoping to catch one of the small trout who lurked beneath the tree roots.  But the fish knew better, and the fishermen always gave up after a few hours, smacking their head-fur coverings on their legs and mumbling.
Wilka ran out to meet him as he scampered towards her doorstep.  "Joseph, oh Joseph, have you been to the pond?"
"You too?" Joseph said incredulously, "What's so special about the people in the pond?"
Wilka just stared at him for a moment as if trying to gather her wits.  "I think you should come see."

The pond was still in the quiet morning light, glassy water reflecting the endless blue of the sky, the dapple of tree branches.  No fishermen dotted its shores, though a parade of geese floated gracefully at the far end.  Wilka pointed to the near side of the pond and fell behind Joseph, who scampered up to look.  
There were people in the water all right, two young males.  They floated near the surface, faces down, bobbing this way and that as the ripples from the geese reached them.
"Spenser?" Joseph asked, "Dayv?"  They didn't respond.  "Dayv!" Joseph shouted, scrambling for a stick.  This wasn't right, this wasn't how to swim.  They looked like he had the day he met Maurice, trying to stick his head in the water like the ducks.  That was impossible! there wasn't any air down there!
"Wilka!" Joseph shouted desperately, "You have to help me move them!  They're not swimming right; they're in danger!"
He found a stick and grabbed it, wedging it under Dayv's arm.  He leaned as hard as he could on the dry end of the stick, but Dayv wouldn't budge.  Spenser floated even farther out than Dayv did, so Joseph couldn't even try to reach him.  Desperately, Joseph tried again to shift Dayv, but Dayv's arm just wobbled aside, all resistance gone.  Joseph fell back, panting and hopeless.  Wilka stood behind him; she brushed against his tail comfortingly.
"I'm so sorry."
When he could stomach it, Joseph leaned forward to look again.  Dark bruises bloomed on Dayv's neck and arms like algae; similar ones dotted what was exposed of Spenser's skin.  Scratches ran like claw marks across Dayv's wrists and the tips of his fingers faded to an ugly blue color.  
The geese swam back to this end of the pond, orange paddled feet kicking at the people's fur and backs.  When they circled away again, Dayv bobbed the other way, facing up.  His lips shone as blue as his fingertips; more cuts and bruises marred his face.  One eye sagged and oozed black pond water.
FAG read the burns on his forehead.