This is a cracky cracky fic based on a lovely ottery picture (below) and is a present for my dear flatmate (though, I fear, not a particularly good one) :-P
There were perhaps one or two… bizarre… aspects to their current situation. One moment they had been in a car, pulling out at a cross-roads, then there had been a lorry, and then…
The second before impact had felt eternal, the whole world distilled into one moment of inexorable panic as his body prepared for the pain that was sure to follow but that, somehow, didn’t.
Instead, here he was. Here they both were: Henry Knight and Martin Crieff. Both inexplicably alive and both, even more inexplicably, otters.
Their astonishment at finding themselves in this predicament was quickly replaced by horror on Martin’s part and, on Henry’s, a wry appreciation for the fact he hadn’t been changed into a dog.
Looking down at his paws in interest, for perhaps the first time in twenty years, Henry found that he actually felt calm. With the weight of humanity lifted from his shoulders he felt somehow free.
No one had any expectations of Henry the otter; there was no boss could disappoint, no deadlines he had to meet. Just him and Martin. Ah, yes, Martin.
Padding across to his quivering, newly otterfied partner, Henry offered his nose out to him, giving him a few gentle nuzzles before wrapping him in his surprisingly strong paws.
He couldn’t talk but he had no need to, everything that needed to be said was communicated in gesture. I’m here; you’re safe; we’re together; we always will be.
(There are now two chapters to this… good lord- here’s the next part)