FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

I don't mind the weather

I've got scarves and caps and sweaters

The hardest part is yet to come

When you will cross the country alone

(Death Cab for Cutie)

---

I must have dozed off, because when I looked up, the sun slanting though the skylights was the hazy deep amber of late afternoon. Shit. How had the time gotten away from me?

Reacting instinctively in response to the pressure on my fingertips that had awoken me, I pressed myself into the corner, trying to make myself as small as a nine-story giantess possibly could. I whimpered softly. They couldn't take this away from me. I'd done everything they wanted. They couldn't take the room away from me. They couldn't put me back in that black, cold hole.

"Ssh, ssh... It's me, Tabitha. It's me. Mark,"

It was the lynx, standing a half dozen or so paces from my knee. He shifted nervously from foot to foot, glancing over his shoulder every few moments.

So that's his name.

I relaxed, shifting so that I was sitting cross-legged with my back against the sloping steel wall. Folding my hands primly in my lap, I looked down at Mark.

"We need to talk," the lynx hissed. "Now,"

Reaching my arm out, I made to pick Mark up. He flinched slightly, so I altered the course of my hand, setting it flat on the ground in front of him, palm up. He hesitated momentarily before stepping onto the flat of my palm.

"Might want to hang on," I muttered softly, managing to muster the words. "I haven't held anyone in a little while now,"

"Anyone you didn't eat, you mean," Mark replied, his tone a mix of apprehension and disgust.

I tried to avoid eye contact. "I had no choice,"

"You_always_ have a choice,"

"That's easy for you to say. You aren't the one trapped here,"

Mark steadied himself my uplifted thumb and forefinger as I lifted him off the ground. He was so fragile there in my hand. If I closed my fingers around him, I could squeeze the life out of him, easy as breathing. He shouldn't have trusted me like that. If I had learned one thing during my time here, it was how powerful I really was.

No. I couldn't do that. Maybe all of Mark's incessant reminders of 'who I was' had some sort of purpose, a reason. I'd hear him out at least.

"That's what we're going to do something about, Tab--get you out of here," the lynx insisted.

My jaw went a little slack. Mark grabbed onto my thumb even more tightly as my hand shook slightly.

"Wha--what?" I gasped. "What do you mean?"

"I mean you're going to escape tonight. And I'm going to help you,"

"We can't. No way. If we try, they'll catch us and they'll kill us. You know that. We can't run that risk,"

Though I might have been able to crush, devour, and destroy with ease, I wasn't invincible. If I crossed my captors, they could take away everything they had given me recently in an instant. I would be locked away forever.

"We_need_ to run that risk," Mark pleaded. "You think these bastards are going to let you exist here forever, working as their... garbage disposal? No. Something terrible is going to happen to you. And me, too. I think they're starting to catch on to me. Please. If not for you, then help me out,"

I chewed nervously on my lip, staring at Mark. His ears were limp and his eyes panicked. Shaking my head a little, I relented.

"Go on," I murmured reluctantly.

"Don't worry. This isn't just some last-minute crazy decision. I've been giving this a lot of thought. Promise," Mark said.

"I believe you,"

The lynx struck me as the careful type.

"So, I've been keeping an eye on things around the facility--movements of patrols, that sort of thing. It's been pretty tough to do that without attracting unwanted attention, but I've been able to piece together a pretty complete picture. There's a pretty solid security setup around the facility, but it ain't exactly Fort Knox.

"There's a patrol that walks the perimeter of your, ah, hangar once every half an hour or so. But at one o'clock in the morning, there's a changing of the guards. We aren't talking the Buckingham Changing of the Guard or anything like that, but it takes a solid forty minutes. Guess everyone's got to have their coffee break.

"Anyway, that buys us a solid block of time to bust out of this hangar. From there, it should be reasonably quick. I'm not going to say easy. None of this is easy. But it should be fast.

"There are only two patrols monitoring the perimeter of the facility, and they tend to stick to the north and south ends. Fortunately for us, that should be the most straightforward bit.

"They've got a chain-link fence with razor wire on the top. Electrified, too. Fortunately for us, it can't be more than knee-high to you, tops. This place is meant to keep people out, not giantesses in,"

"Just a fucking walk in the park," I muttered.

"A walk in the park we have to take," Mark urged.

I pursed my lips but nodded slowly. He had a point.

"Good. Alright. Get some rest, or whatever you need. I need to go now, but I'll be back just before it's time to... to go,"

I watched Mark disappear through the door on the far end of my living space. I think I might have felt the flicker of hope.

*****

My father had taken Warren and I out camping once when we were in high school. We never went again. To this day, I count it amongst the most hellish experiences of my life, easily right up there with my first day on the job and sitting the GRE for a grad progam I never finished.

Great outdoors, Schmeat schmoutschmoors. If I wanted to go outside, I could just take a leisurely stroll through the park a few blocks away from my apartment. I didn't need torrential rain or threadbare sleeping bags or Dad's soggy hot dogs to have a good time. I, for one, fancied myself an urban fox, and happened to be _quite_contented with that, thank you very much.

So was I thrilled to find myself on a tiny, rocky, godsforsaken island in the middle of the ocean, in the dead of winter and with sunset fast approaching? In a word, no. Motherfucking godsdamn tit-balls fuckity fucking no, in about seven.

Huddled up against a rock with my coat bundled around me, staring out at the ocean and trying to think of everything but how cold it was. And the chill would only get worse as night drew on.

"Hot chocolate?"

I looked up to see Morgan walking down the beach toward me, arms folded across her chest and her shoulders hunched against the chill.

"I don't see any cocoa," I muttered.

"Of course there isn't any fucking cocoa," Morgan replied bitterly. "This isn't a fucking camping trip. This is hell on earth,"

"If it were a camping trip, there would be more misery, and more Warren telling me I'm being a fucking pussy about basically everything,"

"Eesh. _Someone's_got some serious repressed memory shit going on,"

Morgan sat down next to me.

"What's going on? What are you up to?" she asked.

"Keeping an eye out to see if any ships pass by. I figure we could signal them or something. Get the fuck off this bloody rock," I hurled a pebble spitefully into the grey water.

"And how do you intend to signal them, Captain Survival?" Morgan replied.

"I dunno, signal fire or something? I bet someone here knows how to start a fire,"

Morgan's slim brow arched and the corner of her mouth started to pinch into that weird little half-smile she made every time someone said something stupid.

"Start a fire? Do you think any of the people on this island have any life skills whatsoever?

"Let's take an inventory, why don't we? We have a stallion whose main skills involve getting naked and being sexy. We have a koala whose only abilities are filming the aforementioned stallion's assorted nakedness and sexiness. And we have a raccoon whose only marketable talents are starring and shitty action flicks and looking sexy in said shitty action flicks. Plus assorted film crew. Oh, and you,"

"And you!" I retorted hotly. "What makes you think I have no life skills?"

That half-smile again.

"I saw you trying to boil pasta in the break room microwave,"

"Not my most shining moment," I mumbled ashamedly. "But really. There's gotta be someone around here who can light a fire,"

"In my loins, maybe," Morgan commented, biting her lip as she stared over at Gabe, who was standing a short distance away, a blanket wrapped around his shoulders.

"I don't need to hear about you and your libido," I said sourly.

We didn't need to discuss fires, sexual or otherwise, as the crackling of flames caused my ears to perk up. In concert, the marten and I jumped to our feet, spinning around.

"Well, shit," I gawped.

"Guess we can add a third item to his list of skills," Morgan shrugged.

A veritable bonfire had been ignited on the beach. And standing with his powerful frame silhouetted by the blaze, hands on hips, was Cliff.

"He really does look good in that scarf of yours," Morgan said.

"It'd look better if it was around his neck and not his hips," I replied. My turn to bite my lip.

"And_now_ we're on the same page,"

I was too busy hurrying up the slope of the beach toward the warmth of the fire and my favorite scantily-clad film star.

"Damn, I didn't know you were good with your hands," I commented to Cliff, clapping a hand on his broad shoulder.

Shit. That came out weird.

"Learned in Cub Scouts," the coon grunted.

"I never was all that into that sort of thing," I shrugged. "More of a soccer kind of kid,"

"Soccer's gay,"

"Well, I guess I picked the right sport, then,"

"Oh, sorry about that," the raccoon mumbled. "Just sorta a... thing. Slipped out,"

"Don't sweat it. I have a thick pelt,"

"So, uh, how long do you think it's going to take for someone to find us and get us off this island?" Cliff replied, eager to shift the subject.

"Well, if you've got a mobile or something, that might speed things along,"

"In case you didn't notice, I was your fucking boat_on the way here," the raccoon snapped. "All I happen to have at the moment is _your fucking scarf,"

"Well, I'll take it back if you don't want it all that much," I replied shortly.

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" Cliff's face wrinkled into a sour expression.

Winking over my shoulder at the perplexed raccoon, I rounded the bonfire and plopped myself down on a hunk of driftwood.

"You're pretty fucking shameless," Morgan commented. She'd managed to procure an energy bar from somewhere.

"Where'd you manage to find that?" I griped.

"Well, while you were trying to get into Cliff's, ah, scarf, I was looking out for my health and well-being," the marten replied smugly, biting into the bar.

"I bet Cliff knows how to fish or hunt or something, too. And now that I've seduced him, he'll totally share that shit with me,"

As if on cue, Cliff walked past, carrying a hefty-looking stick as if it were a spear, a grim expression etched onto his face.

"That is the face of someone just raring to jump into the sack with you, if I've ever seen it," Morgan giggled, punching me on the shoulder.

The buzzing of my mobile cut short my doubtlessly witty and snappy retort.

"Wait, you get service here?" the marten asked, incredulous.

"Apparently so," I shrugged, getting to my feet.

"Smith-White," I said, putting the mobile to my ear as I walked a short distance away.

"How's the camping expedition going?"

I recognized Andy's silvery baritone in an instant.

"Fuck you," I growled.

"Splendidly. Good,"

"How about you get us the fuck off this island?"

"Oh, that seems a bit inconvenient, doesn't it? I've only just got the one small boat,"

"This is your mess, Andy. Time for you to clean it up,"

"You've already pulled the housemaid card on me once. And that's the only time you get to use it," Andy's impassive tone began to take on notes of irritation.

"How about you rent a bigger vessel then?" I pressed, refusing to give way. "Or, if that doesn't float your boat, why don't you, I dunno, enlarge yourself to ridiculous proportions, wade on over, and pick the lot of us up? Gods know how fucking much you love that sort of shit,"

Silence on the other end of the line.

"Tempting," the jackal-god replied at length. "But I'll pass,"

"Fuck you!"

"Why aren't you just taking the chance to enjoy some time in the great outdoors? You're a fucking fox. You ought to love this shit. Why aren't you digging a burrow or whatever already?"

"Talk to Cliff if you want any of that. He's randomly gone full-on survivor guy,"

"Sexy_and_ rugged? Damn,"

"Yeah, whatever,"

"Alright, Whiney Baby. Tell you what: maybe I'll tip off Coast Guard to your presence tomorrow morning. But not right now. I've got a few Z's to catch up on. Been a few shy of the nightly forty winks of late,"

The line went dead before I had a chance to protest. Stuffing the mobile back into the pocket of my jeans, I groaned audibly.

My ears perked up as I heard a rustling of branches at the fringes of the forest. It was Cliff. He stepped onto the beach, planting his spear-stick into the sand with pride. Impaled on the pole were the carcasses of two or three various vermin ferals. The raccoon's fur was matted with pine tar in a few places, but that didn't seem to have any effect on his mood.

"Got some dinner," he announced.

*****

I knew that I should probably get some rest, but I could barely sleep. All I wanted was for Mark to show up so that we could get the fuck out of here. As day turned to evening turned to night, I began to grow worried that I'd imagined the whole thing. Maybe it was all an illusion.

The door at the far end of the hangar swung open a crack and Mark slipped in, dressed all in black. He hurried towards me.

"Bring me a matching outfit?" I asked, unable to hide the grin of joy as it spread across my face.

"They only had size medium in the department store," the lynx apologized. His voice was strong enough, but he was shifting nervously from foot to foot.

"So, what's the game plan, Mister Mastermind?" I asked, shifting into a kneeling position.

"Well, we're--you're--going to have to go out through the roof,"

I arched a brow. "And how do you propose we do that?"

"You're strong. You can bust out. It's just corrugated steel. Pretty thin,"

"Just corrugated steel," I snorted. "Alright, fine. I'll give it a shot,"

"Just be discrete about it. We don't want to attract attention," Mark warned.

Trying to resolve the inherently oxymoronic concept of discretely tearing through a roof in my mind, I shifted into a stooping position, pressing against the curved ceiling of the hangar with my shoulders and uplifted hands.

It was a challenge, but after some exertion, I managed to warp one of the panels that formed the roof. I could hear a number of rivets pop out, pinging and skittering down the sloping structure.

"Good!" Mark encouraged, noticing my progress. "You're doing great. Just keep going. We don't have all that much time,"

"Easy for you to say," I grunted softly as I strained. "Why don't you lend a hand?"

With one last great heave, I managed to separate the panel from the rest of the roof. Mark and I winced in concert as I lost my grip on it. A series of deafening clangs and bangs shattered the silence as the panel scraped along the wall and clattered to the ground.

"Shit," I muttered through gritted teeth.

"Someone will have heard that," Mark breathed. "We need to get out of here before they come and check it out,"

Dropping to one knee, I offered the lynx my hand. Too worried to dither about with the usual reluctance, he clambered hurriedly onto the surface of my palm. Cupping my fingers around him, I got unsteadily to my feet.

It must have been the first time I'd been on my feet in--well, forever. Since the beginning of my incarceration. Standing presently in the hip-high structure of the hangar, I looked upwards toward the night sky.

It was almost unspeakably beautiful, the pitch dark pierced only by clear pinpoints of crystalline starlight. It brought tears to my eyes. I had almost forgotten what the sky looked like.

But there was no time for that sort of thing--we needed to move, and we needed to move quickly. As in right now.

Gingerly lifting first one leg then the other over the lip of the de facto trap door I had fashioned for myself, I stepped out into the grounds of the compound. It had rained earlier (and quite heavily at that, judging from the persistent hammering of water against the roof I had heard while sitting in the hangar that afternoon), rendering the ground soft and muddy.

"I'm going to leave footprints when I move," I whispered nervously to Mark, clutching him a bit closer to my chest. "They'll be able to follow them,"

"No time to worry about that," the lynx replied, though his tone betrayed his own worry--clearly, he hadn't factored that into the equation. "We just need to get out of here as quickly and quietly as possible,"

Nodding grimly, I surveyed my surroundings fleetingly, trying to find the barricade Mark had mentioned earlier and plan my route accordingly.

We were in a compound of some sort. It was more expansive than I had initially imagined it to be, yet not so large as to attract too much attention or notice. A number of squat grey buildings were scattered about the area, constructed alternately from poured concrete and corrugated steel similar to my own hangar. Again, they were fairly simple and nondescript, and not too large--none of them seemed to reach much past the level of my hip.

Hemming in the compound was the pair of fences Mark had mentioned earlier. I suppose it could probably have looked somewhat intimidating to someone much shorter than myself, but decided that it wouldn't pose too much of a problem.

Not waiting for Mark to prompt me to get a move on again, I began to make my hushed, hurried way towards the fence and freedom beyond. Aside from a few floodlights at the perimeter, the compound was fairly poorly lit. I had to hope that the dark of the night would conceal me passably enough, as that was about the only thing that would keep an individual as large as myself from being noticed.

The going was admittedly easier than I had dreaded. I padded my way quietly between buildings. The fence was possibly the least of my worries. Hardly even a high-step. Definitely could have been worse.

Except it definitely was worse. The second I crossed over to the outside, every alarm in the compound went off (and there seemed to be quite a number of them) and the sky was ablaze with floodlights.

"What the fuck is going on?" I breathed.

"I--I don't know," Mark shouted. "But we need to get out of here. Now. Go, go, go!"

I didn't need to be told twice. My bare feet slipping and sliding on the muddy ground, I took off running.

A dense forest blanketed the mountains that surrounded the compound. That meant we could probably be anywhere in the area that surrounded Saaduuts. Great. I still hadn't a clue as to where I was. But worrying about that could wait until I threw off the chase party. Cutting frantically through the trees, all I could do was hope that they would slow down my pursuers.

"Try not to damage so many trees!" Mark called, clinging frantically onto my thumb. "We don't want to leave a breadcrumb trail for them!"

Mark was right. I needed to be more careful. Taking care to place my feet more cautiously and precisely, I hurried deeper into the wilderness. I had no idea which direction I was heading, or even where I was supposed to be going. All I could do was head away from the compound.

Scrambling up a steep slope, I drew up short as I encountered a sheer granite face.

"Shit," I whispered.

"We need to get going," Mark repeated, looking around nervously.

I glanced over my shoulder. People carrying flashlights were hurrying through the forest in my direction. We had a fairly good lead on them at the moment, but that wouldn't last forever.

"Well, shit," I said again.

There was only one way to go: up.

*****

"Mm. Bushmeat," Morgan smacked her lips.

"What's your favorite part, the gristle or the gristle?" I asked.

"You're welcome to go out and find something better if you can," Cliff grunted, tearing into his own hunk of meat.

The raccoon pulled the blanket I'd found him tighter around his shoulders, wiping the corner of his mouth on the back of his hand. Hey, much as I'd enjoyed ogling him, as the night wore on and the thermostat dropped, I figured that a frozen Cliffcicle wouldn't be good in anyone's book.

I pulled out my mobile yet again. Still no bars, and the battery was about to die. Glorious. No doubt Andy had called for some help from one of his stupid quasi-deity friends and associates who had the power to briefly extend cell service for the purposes of assorted douchebaggery or something like that. Fucking cocky asshole. I certainly didn't care to meet any more of his lot, that was for godsdamn certain.

"Well, guess we're here for the night," I muttered bitterly.

Morgan laughed softly. "I was supposed to go out with Tal tonight. Movie theatre or something. Guess that he'll have to take a rain-check on that,"

I arched my brow. "Really? You and Tal?"

The tips of Morgan's ears flushed pink. "It isn't anything serious. Just... I feel kinda bad for him. He's been trying so hard, but it just hasn't been paying off. Seems pretty lonely,"

"Oh, so it's a pity date? Gonna count that as your charity for the month?" I retorted, my temper flaring.

"What the fuck, Roger?" Morgan shot me a look. "Tal's a good guy. I want to spend some time with him,"

"Well... just don't lead him down the garden path or anything," I muttered under my breath, slumping over.

"I know how to handle relationships. Don't need fucking pointers," the marten sniffed. "What's gotten into you all of a sudden? Is this more of your fucking mopey bullshit about Reynard? Look. Don't get me wrong. I feel for you. That's not something that you should have to cope with. But you've been fucking unbearable lately. You need to start trying to actually address and deal with your problems rather than just shutting yourself away 24/7. Do something social. Go and talk with people or something.

Join a group and do something you enjoy,"

I suddenly became very interested in my meager hunk of meat.

"Okay, whatever. I'm going to try to get some sleep," Morgan said coolly.

The marten got up, dusting herself off, and stalked off away from the bonfire.

"Gonna be fucking freezing out there," I called after her, my voice laced with venom.

"Give it a rest," Cliff said, gently but firmly. "What's up with you?"

"Nothing," I muttered, hugging my knees to my chest and staring into the fire.

"Bullshit,"

"It's just... stuff that's going on. I've been in a bad place lately, I guess,"

"Mm,"

"It's my husband. He's... he's in a coma," I blurted. "I don't know if he's going to make it. They say the longer it lasts, the lower the chance of him..."

I trailed off. Cliff remained silent, looking a little uncomfortable.

"You're married?" he asked eventually.

"Yeah," I replied, flashing my wedding band for him to see. "Unfortunately for you, I'm taken,"

"Yeah, unfortunately," Cliff said back flatly.

We sat there in an uncomfortable silence for a few minutes.

"I'm gonna try and sleep," I decided at length.

"Cool,"

As I made to walk away around to a softer patch of sand (funny joke), Cliff leaned back.

"Hey, it sounds pretty rough, what you're going through," he said. "And I'm probably not the best person to talk about it, but... things have a way of working out, sooner or later,"

I paused before turning away.

"Maybe,"

*****

"You aren't going to climb that, are you?" Mark asked nervously.

I stared up at the vertical granite face.

"What else can I do? I'm not ready go back there," I said.

"But... but it's a cliff," Mark pointed out helpfully.

"I took a bouldering class once in high school," I shrugged. "Oh, er, sorry about this. I... I need both hands for climbing," I added, flushing.

Mark made a confused noise as I stuffed him down the front of my shift as gently as I could.

"Er, hang on," I mumbled. "Not that I have all that much for you to hang onto,"

Fortunately, the cliff face afforded me plenty of grips for my hands and feet. The rough surface cut into my fingertips and toes, but I gritted my teeth, pushing onward and upward.

Fifteen exhausting minutes later, I pulled myself up on top of the cliff. Rolling onto my back, I stretched out on the soft mossy ground.

I pulled the bedraggled Mark out of my shift, setting him down on the ground beside me.

"Sorry about that," I muttered bashfully.

"It's... it's... well, we're okay now," the lynx murmured in reply.

Mark got to his feet, hurrying toward the edge of the plateau of sorts onto which I'd clambered. He peered over the edge.

"I think we should be safe here for the time being," the lynx smiled, walking back towards me. "No way they'll be able to get up here. Not without hardcore climbing gear, that's for damn sure,"

"Good. Because I don't want to move for the next... ever," I groaned dramatically, exhaling through pursed lips.

"We should be good to spend the rest of the night here, I think," Mark sat down heavily. "Tomorrow morning, we can make plans on where to go,"

I nodded, smiling blissfully as I stared up at the stars.

"You're a good person, Mark," I said, craning my neck to look over at the lynx.

"Th--thanks," the lynx replied. He seemed a little confused at the prospect of receiving a compliment.

"Try not to blow your mind, little guy," I chuckled.

Mark nodded once or twice, shifting from foot to foot. "I haven't felt like a good person since I became involved with... that group. They deceived me, roped me into this whole thing. And now, well, there was no way for me to back out. They wouldn't allow that sort of thing. In too deep. Not that I've really, well, done anything. But association with them is bad enough,"

I sat up a little, legs curling together. "I suppose this escape will be a fresh start for both of us, then,"

"I suppose so," Mark agreed faintly.

My eyelids were starting to grow heavy. Keeping my eyes open for any length of time proved a real challenge. "I'm gonna catch a couple of Z's. Going to need to rest up before tomorrow. Busy day,"

*****

I wanted to die. Every joint in my body was stiffer than the one before. Assuming you could count joints in chronological order.

Sitting up, I rubbed my eyes with the backs of my hands. Apparently, nobody else was as damaged by the night on the cold, hard ground as I. Morgan was standing in front of the smoldering remains of the bonfire, and the pair of blanket-draped stars were conversing a short distance away down the beach.

"Well,they've come a long way from brandishing trees at one another," I commented, hobbling my way up next to Morgan. "Is there anything to report on the rescue front? Surely a ship is going to pass by soon,"

"Not soon enough," the marten grumbled, arms folded across her chest.

"Really? I'd been promised a Coast Guard rescue," I sighed, massaging the kinks out of my tail. Seriously. I had kinks. In my tail. I wasn't meant for the wilderness. I needed a mattress.

My mobile rang. Confused, I pulled it out.

"Speak of the devil," I muttered.

"Seriously, how the fuck do you even get service here?" Morgan arched a brow.

Shrugging, I took the call.

"Where the fuck is the Coast Guard rescue you were promising?" I demanded shortly.

"Good morning to you, too," Andy replied.

"Where's the damn boat? I have stitches in places stitches ought not be," I snapped.

"Well, in my defense, I never actually promised you I'd call the Coast Guard," the jackal pointed out. "Maybe you ought to listen more carefully when folks are talking,"

"How hard would it be to call someone--anyone with a boat, really--and tip them off that we're here on this bloody island?"

"But way too boring,"

"Who gives two fucks about boring? I want to get off this motherfucking island right motherfucking now! I couldn't bear to spend another second here,"

Andy sighed heavily on the other end of the line.

"A little time out enjoying nature never killed anyone," he said. "But fine. If you're going to make such a to-do about it, I'll arrange your transport home,"

My confusion didn't last long. A violent tremor nearly knocked me flat on my tail.

Whipping around, I saw Cliff standing crouched over the rest of the group, a couple hundred feet taller than he had been only moments before, a vaguely sheepish grin on his face.

"Guess who got his second wind?" he said.

"The--the fuck?" I gaped.

"Tossed on a dozen or so extra feet this time," the jackal-god commented. "Is it overkill? I hope it isn't overkill. I really hate overkill,"

Choosing to ignore Andy's ravings, I pressed onward.

"What'd you do that for? Why didn't you just send a boat?"

"That would be boring," Andy said as if he were pointing out something incredibly obvious.

"Oh, right. Totally blanked on that little detail," I sighed.

"Gotta admit, I had a bit of a hard time deciding who to supersize. Came down to a coin-flip. Bit of a shame, I guess. This town doesn't get enough giant stallions, if you ask me. Ah, well... always time for later," Andy sighed regretfully.

"This town has too many godsdamn giants, period, if you ask me," I replied gruffly.

"Whatever. Enjoy your ride," I could practically hear the smirk as Andy hung up.

Returning my attention toward the giant raccoon, I saw that he was dangling Gabe in front of his face between thumb and forefinger.

"My, you're a little fellow," Cliff snorted.

"Oh, shut the fuck up," the stallion snapped in reply. "Put me down,"

"No, pick us all up!" I corrected loudly, hurrying towards the group clustered near the bonfire.

Cliff's brow arched as his gaze fell on me. "What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about getting us all of this godsforsaken island!" I gestured about, swinging my arms wildly. "Get us the fuck out of here!"

Cliff's face shifted through a series of expressions before deciding to settle on sardonic. He sat down heavily, letting Gabe slip through his fingers to the ground. The giant raccoon sat cross-legged, resting his cheek on his palm as he stared down at me.

"Nah," he shrugged simply.

"That's all you have to say? 'Nah'?" I snapped. "No, you're going to take us all back to the mainland,"

"No, I don't think I want to," Cliff replied curtly. "I'm a giant. I do what I want. And what I want is to go back to Saaduuts and... do whatever giants are supposed to do. Stomp around. Smash things. Maybe even swing the old dick around a little. Bet I could do it better than pony boy here," he added, poking Gabe in the chest with the tip of his pinkie.

"That's exactly what you aren't supposed to be doing," I snapped. "That's exactly why MACRO as an organization exists: to make sure idiots don't do stupid things like... swinging their dicks around,"

"Have fun trying to do that from this island," Cliff grinned, starting to get back to his feet. "Oh, don't worry. I'll send a boat your way soon enough. Once I've had some fun,"

"What is with you?" I scratched my head. "I really don't understand you at all. One moment, you're all charismatic and shit, the next you're this crazy survivalist. And now you're a fucking douchy wannabe rampaging Cliffzilla or someth--"

Morgan stepped between Cliff and I, holding up a hand to shut me up. She shot a look at me before turning to face Cliff. He narrowed his eyes, stooping down slowly until he was resting on his haunches.

"What is it?" he asked, his voice low.

"I know all that... stuff... sounds fun, or whatever," the marten started slowly, choosing her words. "But it really isn't all that great, all things considered. I mean, think about it. Twenty minutes of 'fun' for you is weeks of construction and hundreds of thousands of dollars of repair for us afterward,"

"Not my city, not my problem,"

"Well, sure. On the surface. But think about it. You're a _huge_celebrity. In both senses of the phrase. We can do some good here,"

Morgan hesitated, but took Cliff's silence as a signal to press on.

"See, one we all get back to mainland Saaduuts, why don't we get together a bit of a film crew? We make a quick PSA--proper etiquette for, you know, gigantified people. I know our public outreach department has been dying to get that sort of thing together for ages. _ You're just the kind of face we'd need to really make an impact. Besides, you can always get a write-off for the service or whatever come tax season," the marten concluded with a matter-of-fact shrug. "Good PR for you _and us. Win-win,"

"I already have several successful charities making a real difference out there," Cliff didn't seem sold on Morgan's proposition.

The marten floundered for a few moments, racking her brains. "And I'll throw in the business tower on Fifth and Marion. Knock yourself out,"

Cliff pursed his lips, mulling over Morgan's offer.

"Business tower?" I hissed, leaning over.

"It's scheduled for demolition in a few weeks anyway. I pass it every day on my way to and from work. Ugly as fuck," Morgan replied in a hushed tone.

We both glanced up nervously as Cliff smiled. "All right, little lady. You drive a hard bargain. But you've got yourself a deal,"

Morgan flashed me a nervous grin. I nodded my head reassuringly.

"Way to think on your feet. Point Maddox," I said. "I mean, Karl's gonna hate us for way overstepping our bounds in the whole deal, but good on you,"

"I count any day I piss Karl off as a day well spent," Morgan replied sweetly.

"Alright, folks," Cliff grunted, leaning over and resting his hands flat on the ground. "Hop on. The SS _Cliffzilla_is leaving port on a one-way trip from Shitty Island to the Port of Saaduuts,"

*****

For the first in seemingly ages, I awoke gently. The sun filtered through the pine trees as I blinked my eyes open. Stretching my arms over my head, I slowly sat up, rubbing my eyes.

"Okay, Mark," I smacked my lips. "What's the game plan? How do we get to Saaduuts from here? We are going there, right?"

"Tab--Tab... don't move," came Mark's quavering voice.

My attention snapped towards the ground. I was surrounded by over a dozen black-clad thugs. I gasped as I saw that one of them had a gun to Mark's temple.

Acting instinctively, I snatched up one of the thugs, gripping him in my fist with my thumbnail pressed up under his chin.

"You let Mark go," I growled as menacingly as I could manage. "Or I'll pop this asshole's head off like a cork,"

The wolf holding the gun chuckled as he tightened his chokehold on Mark.

"Go right ahead. See if I give a shit," he snorted.

Mark made a strangled noise, trying to shake his head fervently. I frowned, but relented, loosening my grip on the thug.

Suddenly, I became aware of a jabbing pain in my thigh. Looking down, I saw a thug backing away from me, a rifle (or something that looked like one at least) tucked under his arm.

"Oh shit," I slurred, starting to feel very, _very_fuzzy.

I started to slump over as everything started to go black. All I could do with the remaining consciousness I had was try not to crush Mark under my bulk.

*****

We must have been a hell of a sight to see: a twenty-story-tall raccoon film star, wading through the chest-deep waters off the coast, carrying a motley crew of cast and crew for a porn film and government officials in his cupped palm and on his broad shoulders. Gabe and I rode perched on Cliff's shoulder. I presumed that was because he'd taken a liking to me, but it seemed in large part to be just so he could give the stallion shit whenever possible.

"Gotta admit, I feel like a bit of an idiot for actually swimming out to that island when I could've just walked along the ocean floor like this," Cliff commented wryly, craning his neck slightly to look at me.

"Well, I'm pretty sure you're a little bigger than you were earlier, so that's probably a factor in the matter. Just a guess," I shrugged.

"Bigger is always better," the raccoon replied.

"With the exception of when said bigger person was already an at-up-with-himself film star and colossal douche to boot," Gabe grumbled sourly.

Cliff pursed his lips as if he were thinking up a response, but became distracted by a boat cutting through the water off his left side. Was he big enough to be considered to have a port bow?

Based on its red-and-white color scheme, I recognized the ship as a part of the Coast Guard's fleet. It was one of their smaller searcher-class vehicles. Probably one of their X-30s. Don't ask me why I know so much random shit about boats. It was something of an obsession of my dad's when he was growing up.

Reaching out with his free hand, Cliff lifted the vessel out of the water. It was about the size of a shoe in comparison to the giant. There was only a handful (quite literally, in Cliff's case) of crew on board, maybe two or three.

"We could have really used you guys last night," the raccoon commented flatly. "Now I had to go and grow to gigantic size and carry everyone back. Pretty fucking inconvenient,"

"Wait, aren't you Cliff MacKay?" asked one of the crew, leaning over the rail.

"In the fur," Cliff replied flatly.

"Well, that's nice," a weasel who looked like he was in command replied. "We have tasks to attend to. Please put us down,"

"Probably a good idea," I agreed softly, patting Cliff's shoulder.

The raccoon pursed his lips, shaking his head.

"Nah, I don't think so," he said. "We've got somewhere to go. Figure you might as well join the party,"

And that was the end of that. Cliff's mind was made up. Turning back towards Saaduuts, the raccoon strode purposefully towards the mainland.

He made landfall at the docks, rising from the water, still clutching the Coast Guard vessel like some kind of postmodern Poseidon. Water streaming off his body, Cliff made his way down the street leading away from the waterfront.

"Er, Cliff?" I prompted.

"Huh? Oh, right," the raccoon glanced at the boat in his hand. "Sorry 'bout that,"

Cliff set the vessel down on a nearby rooftop before offloading the passengers in his other palm.

"Boats are supposed to be in water," I pointed out as Cliff plucked me and Gabe off his shoulder.

"Whatever," Cliff shrugged. "Alright, let's knock out this PSA. I wanna rampage,"

"If by rampage, you mean do us a favor and smash one stupid building, sure," Morgan muttered. "I'm calling MACRO now. They'll have everything we need for that over here soon enough,"

I made my way over to Morgan.

"Hey, would you mind taking it from here?" I asked. "I'm kinda--it's been a long day. Couple of days,"

"Of course," Morgan replied. "Go home and get some shut-eye,"

"Forget home. I'm going somewhere fucking tropical," I grumbled.

I rounded the boat on my way to the stairs, nodding apologetically at the disgruntled crew. I needed to purge any and all memories of the prior evening. Well, except for naked Cliff MacKay. Could definitely hang onto those ones.

My mobile went off as I hurried down the seemingly endless staircase towards the ground floor.

"Smith-White,"

"I see you're back in Saaduuts. Enjoy your peaceful wilderness retreat?"

"Andy," I grumbled. "How did you know I'm back in Saaduuts?"

"Oh, twenty-story raccoons are pretty tough to miss," the jackal-god replied. "And I just assumed that you guys were in tow. Or in hand,"

"Okay, good point, I suppose," I conceded. "So why don't you shrink him back down now, thanks,"

"So soon? Oh, come on. That wouldn't be any fun, now, would it?"

"It probably would. But who cares about fun. Look, I'm really tired. Do whatever. He better be normal after this stupid PSA thing wraps up,"

"Mm, fine,"

I took the mobile away from my ear, making to hang up. I hesitated, pursing my lips.

"Oh, Andy?"

"Still here,"

"Want to get coffee sometime soon?"

"Just can't get enough of this, can you?"

"Oh, shut up. It's just coffee. You want to go with me or not?"

"If you put it so nicely, then sure. I know a place in the Bell District,"

"This is Saaduuts. There are probably a thousand coffee places in the Bell District alone,"

"I'll pick you up at noon tomorrow, okay?"

"Sure. But you'd better not mean that literally. If you show up all gigantic, I swear to the fucking gods I will murder you,"

Andy chuckled. "That's really cute of you. But all right. You're the boss,"

I shook my head as I hung up. There, Morgan. Now she couldn't accuse me of not at least trying to be sociable.