**Kex and Khari**
The first sign of their new neighbors was the sound of a heavily loaded cart struggling up the road on a crisp early fall morning. Jukrit looked up from harvesting the last of the summer squash to see an otter driving, with a civet walking alongside, both looking exhausted.
"Need any help?" Jukrit called out as they passed.
The otter pulled the cart to a grateful stop. "That would be wonderful, actually. We're moving into the property next to yours—the four acres that just sold. I'm Kex, and this is my partner, Khari."
"Jukrit. And that's my partner, Noraxia." He gestured to where Noraxia was emerging from the barn in her anthropomorphic form, having heard voices. "Let us help with the heavy items at least. That cart looks overloaded."
"You have no idea," Khari said, his spotted civet fur dusty from the road. "We've been traveling for three days. Everything we own is on this cart."
Noraxia assessed the situation with her usual practical eye. "I can carry the heaviest items. It's no trouble."
"That's very kind, but—" Kex started, then stopped as Noraxia lifted a trunk that clearly weighed several hundred pounds as if it were nothing. "Oh. Oh my."
"She's a dragon," Jukrit explained. "Shapeshifting dragon, to be precise. The strength comes in handy."
Over the next hour, they helped Kex and Khari unload their belongings into the small cottage on the neighboring property. It was similar to Jukrit and Noraxia's homestead—four wooded acres, a modest house, a barn that needed some work. The previous owner had let it fall into disrepair, but the bones were good.
"This is perfect for us," Khari said, looking around with satisfaction despite the obvious work ahead. "Space for Kex's fishing equipment, room for my woodworking shop in the barn. And neighbors who won't..." He paused delicately.
"Won't judge?" Noraxia supplied gently. "We're a squirrel and a dragon in love. Trust me, we understand being an unusual couple."
Kex's shoulders visibly relaxed. "That's actually why we moved out here. Riverside Market is supposed to be more accepting than the city, but we weren't sure about the rural areas."
"You'll be fine here," Jukrit assured them. "The community is good people. And if anyone gives you trouble, well..." He smiled. "My partner is a dragon."
"A dragon who finds you two absolutely adorable together, by the way," Noraxia added with a grin. "The way you were coordinating that cart, the little touches, checking in with each other—it's sweet."
Kex and Khari exchanged glances, both looking pleased and slightly embarrassed.
"Would you like to stay for lunch?" Jukrit offered. "You both look like you could use a proper meal and some rest."
They gratefully accepted. Over a simple meal of bread, cheese, and late-season vegetables, they learned more about their new neighbors. Kex was a fisherman by trade, specializing in river catches that he sold to local markets. Khari was a skilled woodworker who made furniture and decorative pieces. They'd been partners for five years, facing increasing hostility in the city before deciding to relocate.
"The final straw was when someone smashed Kex's market stall," Khari said quietly. "Called us... well, unpleasant things."
"I'm sorry," Noraxia said. "People can be cruel about what they don't understand."
"Or what threatens their narrow view of how the world should be," Jukrit added. He'd faced his share of comments about his relationship with Noraxia—the size difference alone drew stares, never mind that they were different species.
"Exactly," Kex said. "But out here, maybe we can just... be."
"You can," Noraxia assured them. "And you're welcome to visit anytime. We're building a community of our own—friends who accept each other as we are."
After lunch, they showed Kex and Khari around their property so the new neighbors could see what was possible with four acres. The vegetable garden impressed Khari, who had similar plans. The barn conversion caught Kex's attention.
"You keep ghevals?" Kex asked, spotting Kalina grazing in the meadow with tiny Chenar on her back.
"Two. Kalina, the large one, and Chenar, the tiny male you can barely see from here." Jukrit smiled. "Chenar is unique—he changes sex every year at the autumn equinox. Just transitioned from female to male a few weeks ago."
"That must be the shifting-sex condition I've heard about," Khari said with interest. "Incredibly rare."
"And challenging sometimes, but we manage. They're family."
As they walked, a thought occurred to Jukrit. "You mentioned Kex is a fisherman. Our stream connects to yours—it runs along the property line. Maybe we could work out an arrangement? You fish it, and in exchange, we get first pick of the catch?"
Kex's face lit up. "That would be perfect. I was hoping to ask about water access. This stream feeds into the main river?"
"It does. About a mile downstream. Excellent fishing, from what I understand, though I've never had the skill for it myself."
They spent the afternoon making plans. Kex would maintain both sections of the stream, keeping it clear and healthy. Khari offered to help repair Jukrit and Noraxia's fence line in exchange for Noraxia's help moving some particularly heavy logs he wanted for a project. By the time evening fell, the beginnings of a genuine friendship had formed.
"Thank you," Khari said as they prepared to head back to their cottage. "For the help, the food, the welcome. It means more than you know."
"We know exactly what it means," Noraxia said. "We've been there—looking for a place where we could just be ourselves."
After their neighbors left, Jukrit and Noraxia stood on their porch, watching the sunset.
"They're sweet together," Noraxia said. "Did you see how Khari kept making sure Kex drank enough water? And Kex was constantly checking if Khari needed to rest."
"Caregivers, both of them," Jukrit agreed. "Looking out for each other."
"Like us."
"Like us," he echoed with a smile.
The next morning, they were awakened by frantic knocking. Khari stood on their porch, looking panicked.
"It's Kex. He was exploring our barn early this morning and something fell on him—a old beam. His leg is badly hurt. I tried to move the beam but I can't, and he can't walk. Can you help?"
They were moving before Khari finished speaking, Jukrit grabbing his medical kit while Noraxia shifted to her four-legged form for maximum strength. Within minutes, they were at the neighboring cottage.
Kex was in the barn, conscious but in obvious pain, his left leg trapped under a heavy wooden beam that had rotted through and collapsed. The leg was bent at an unnatural angle.
"Don't move," Jukrit ordered, immediately examining the situation. "Noraxia, can you lift that beam?"
She positioned herself carefully and lifted the massive timber as if it were kindling. Kex cried out as the pressure released, and Jukrit quickly moved in to examine the leg.
"It's broken. Cleanly, thank the spirits, but it's definitely broken." He looked at Khari. "We need to get him back to our house. My healing room has everything I need. Noraxia, can you carry him?"
"Of course." She shifted back to her anthropomorphic form and gently lifted Kex, who was trying very hard to be brave but clearly terrified.
"You're going to be alright," she assured him in her gentlest voice. "Jukrit is the best healer in the region. You're in good paws."
Back at their house, Jukrit worked quickly. He set the leg, a painful process despite the herbal pain reliever he administered first; and splinted it properly. Kex would need to stay off it for at least six weeks, possibly longer.
"I can't work," Kex said, the reality sinking in. "We just moved here. We don't have savings built up yet. If I can't fish—"
"Then Khari will fish," Jukrit said firmly. "I'll teach him the basics. And Noraxia can help with the heavy work around your property while you recover. That's what neighbors do."
"We can't ask you to—"
"You're not asking. We're offering." Noraxia placed a gentle hand on Kex's shoulder. "Wouldn't you do the same for us?"
Over the next week, they established a new routine. Each morning, Jukrit would check on Kex's leg, changing bandages and ensuring proper healing. Khari learned basic fishing techniques from Jukrit's minimal knowledge, supplemented by Kex's shouted instructions from where he sat on the stream bank in a chair Noraxia had carried down for him.
"Left! Cast more to the left!" Kex would call. "There's a deep pool there where the big ones hide!"
Khari proved surprisingly adept once he got the hang of it. By the third day, he was bringing in respectable catches. Noraxia helped with the heavy tasks around their property—moving logs for Khari's workshop, securing the barn structure so nothing else would fall.
In the evenings, the four of them would often eat together, either at one cottage or the other. They learned about each other's lives—Kex's large religious family who'd rejected him when he came out, Khari's more accepting but distant relatives. The parallels to Jukrit and Noraxia's own experiences created deep understanding.
"My family wants me to mate with a male dragon," Noraxia shared one evening. "They think my relationship with Jukrit is a phase. They don't understand that love doesn't care about species or size or what's expected."
"Or gender," Kex added quietly. "My parents kept saying I'd find the right female eventually. As if who I loved was a choice I was making wrong."
"It's not a choice," Khari said, his hand finding Kex's. "It's just who we are."
On the sixth day, they had a surprise visitor. Old Cornelius, the squirrel from town, stopped by with a basket of preserved fish.
"Heard your new neighbor got hurt," he said to Jukrit. "Figured I'd bring some extra. Community takes care of its own."
"That's very kind," Jukrit said, surprised and touched.
Cornelius peered around at Kex, still immobilized. "Otter and civet, eh? Don't see that pairing often. You two married?"
There was a tense pause. Then Kex said carefully, "We're partners. Committed to each other."
"Good enough for me," Cornelius said with a shrug. "My grandson is with another male. Makes him happy, so I'm happy. Welcome to the area. We're simple folk here, but we're not small-minded." He looked at Jukrit and Noraxia. "Especially after these two showed everyone what love can look like. Hard to judge others when we've got a squirrel and a dragon running the most successful healing practice in three villages."
After Cornelius left, Kex looked like he might cry. "I wasn't expecting... acceptance. Just tolerance at best."
"You'll find more than acceptance here," Jukrit said. "You'll find friends."
By the end of the week, Kex's leg was healing well, though he'd still need several more weeks before putting weight on it. But more importantly, solid friendships had formed. Kex and Khari had become part of their small community—welcomed, accepted, and valued for exactly who they were.
On their final evening of that first week, the four of them sat together on Jukrit and Noraxia's porch, watching the autumn stars emerge.
"Thank you," Khari said. "For everything. The healing, the help, the friendship. We came here hoping to be left alone. Instead, we found something better."
"Family," Noraxia supplied. "Not the kind you're born into, but the kind you choose."
"The best kind," Kex agreed, his injured leg propped up, Khari's arm around his shoulders.
Jukrit looked at their two neighbors—the otter and civet who'd arrived exhausted and wary, now relaxed and smiling. He thought about their own journey, how he and Noraxia had fought to build a life where they could simply exist without judgment.
"You know what I love about our little corner of the world?" he said. "We're all impossible in our own ways. A squirrel and a dragon. An otter and a civet. Ghevals that change sex with the seasons. We're all things that shouldn't work but do anyway."
"To impossible things," Noraxia raised her cup.
"To impossible things," they echoed together.
And under the autumn stars, four souls who'd all fought to love freely sat together in comfortable silence, grateful for the impossible friendships that made life worth living.
The sound of Chenar chittering from the barn—his newly male voice still getting used to its deeper pitch—made them all laugh. Even the ghevals were celebrating.
Sometimes, the best neighbors were the ones who understood what it meant to be different. And sometimes, the best communities were built not on sameness, but on shared understanding that love, in all its forms, was worth fighting for.
