FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Adela finished her plate with ease. There were only venison bones and cracked eggshells, the former having been picked clean and the later suspiciously leathery. The queen thought nothing of it, and subconsciously groped about the table for a means of wiping her face of sauce. There was none. "Thank you for the compliment, as well as the meal."

Geoffrey gave a slight lap at his own lips, and shrugged. "No problem. A gentleman like myself couldn't possibly refuse help. Right?"

Adela gave a forced nod. She looked about the cozy cottage. It was a small, rectangular room. On one end were two beds. The other, a wooded door. And in the center, of course this table. Among the walls were various mounted heads. They were all of animals. Of course. Deer, rabbit, raccoon, moose, everything she could list and then some. Their expressions were all frozen in terror. The trophies were grim and ominous, but as a whole they reflected a lifetime of excellent huntsmanship. Even her own father's display of trophies could not compete. There was also a pathetic little fireplace, a couple of logs burning. Adela noticed a lack of silverware, though it failed to surprise her. This man was poor. If only in wealth. Bored, Adela bothered to ask a question she already knew the answer to. "What do you suppose you do for recreation?"

"Hunt, of course! I live off the breast of the land, mi'lady. Though I am also a gardener. My roses are gorgeous."

Adela's eyes widened, her interest caught by his last statement. "Really, a gardener? How unexpected."

Geoffrey burst into an unwarranted fit of laughter. "Yea, and I have a few acres of violets. Right next to my castle."

Adela rolled her eyes. What a brute. "I take it that I was right about you, then?"

"Oh, don't get all upset now, dear. How about I give you a tour of my territory?"

Adela nonverbally agreed, lifting herself from the seat. She stood before the door, and the man grabbed his crossbow before swinging open the entrance for her. Together, they walked out into the great unknown, it less intimidating in the daylight. There were still trees occasionally the size of castle towers, the expanses of green vegetation endless. The walk was, in all respects, dull. It consisted mostly of his stories of great triumph over wild beasts, as well as his survival in the harshest conditions, which while moderately impressive, were highly implausible. Maybe that's the reason he's a recluse. "His" land mostly consisted of uneventful hills and valleys. Much to Adela's relief, they finally arrived at the measly cabin yet again. It hadn't grown much.

It was nightfall, and the walking and talking already tired her, perhaps moreso than yesterday. Hopefully, tomorrow she would be able to convince him to guide her home. Adela laid down on the bed, without motion but not without conscious. Geoffrey provided her with a loose robe to wrap around herself, definitely better than her still battered clothes. The girl stared out the window, and felt something stare back. The feeling was extremely uncomfortable. The fear was... Primal. The queen rubbed her cheeks circularly. She could not sleep. The air was much too chilly. The bite on her shoulder throbbed. And most immense of all were the pains radiating from her teeth. Never before had she felt such a toothache. Her canines felt as sharp as blades, the ivory daggers severely overlapping her lower lip. The taste of blood tainted her tongue, the source hopefully her gums. Adela tried to tuck the teeth under her lip. Perhaps no one would notice?

Adela awoke to a firm nudge. More accurately, a series of them. The huge man held the crossbow against her, just above her clothed breast. She mentally screamed. He had found out! Then she realized the warm smile on his face. He spoke as if to a child. "Wake up. It's time for breakfast!"

The female sighed in relief. She rose from her seat, and looked famishedly to the table. There was no food. "Excuse me... But what exactly do you intend for us to eat?" The woman quickly covered her mouth, and feigned a cough. She could not let him see her fangs.

Geoffrey tilted a brow, to her question and behavior. "Whatever you can catch, of course." He then handed her the crossbow, and walked off with his own quiver and longbow. Adela followed. This was ridiculous, but nutrition would help her think. The two ventured even further into the forsaken woods. The fresh scent of the outdoors felt more inviting this time; she enjoyed the exotic scents of wildflowers from a distance. They were red, white, yellow... Purple. Adela hated purple. She stepped on one of the wretched violet plants as they travelled. Not too long after, the man spotted a chipmunk. The fuzzy creature dined gratefully on it's bounty: a wild nut. It then became unnaturally stiff, and fell over with a twitch. Suddenly, there was an arrow lodged in it's head. The little queen gasped.

The woodsman walked casually over to the prey, and yanked an arrow out with a stream of blood. No use in wasting an arrow, he said. He grabbed the miniscule snack. She swore he could have crunched into the small rodent on the spot. What cruelty. Adela wanted to vomit upon seeing the specks of brain. But there was nothing to spew. Instead, the woman itched a bony lump on her lower back. She hid her claws. They, too, had grown.

Moments passed by quickly. It was dusk. Geoffrey lugged along with him a crude sack which held his kills, whilst Adela's greatest catch was a rotted tree stump she accidentally shot. Perhaps it was luck, intention, or a lack of skill. The man had tried to teach her how to wield the crossbow, but to little avail. The frame was too heavy for her to steady, the string too strong for her to pull back, and the recoil too fierce for her to aim. She was simply inept. Hours after this, they were now travelling towards the cottage. Geoffrey sighed. It was late. "Sorry I got a bit carried away with my hunting..." The girl shrugged. He caused them to miss breakfast and luncheon.

Covering her mouth, she pestered him with the same request she had for the past couple of days. "May you please guide me to Halenzia Castle, now?"

Geoffrey shook his head. "Too dark, and I'm unfamiliar with the path. I have errands for the night, either way. Maybe tomorrow?"

Adela moped, and rubbed her face. The peasant replied. "Cheer up. I have something exciting to show you tomorrow."

Half an hour later, Adela laid down on her bed. There was no one else; Geoffrey had left to retrieve lumber for his fireplace. She stared at her hands. They had ebony nails, fairly long and sharp. They had grown during the hunt. Fingers were curved slightly forward, like claws, her palms having thicker flesh; padding. Then her itching flared up. She scratched and scratched to no avail. The sensations had migrated to all parts of her body. Arms, legs, chest, shoulder, all affected the same. She had lost all patience. Blindly, she tore apart her dress, splitting it rather cleanly down her front. She began to scrape at the newly exposed skin.

The unrelenting agony subsided. The girl barely felt anything now. Adela gazed down at her nude front, and gasped. She was covered in patches of short white fuzz. She tugged at one of the clumps, but it did not give. Adela had fur. There were now only small exposures of her reddened skin, scattered about herself. Maybe she scratched far too hard, for blood stained her furry white handpaws. The girl was frozen in terror. She had changed. It was so bizarre, so very surreal. Then, by instinct, she stood. She no longer belonged here. The man could return at any second. She must leave now, or become one of the heads on the wall. Her bloodied hands grabbed the olive drab robe she wore last night. The thief also snatched a razor, and a gold coin from atop his table.

She could barely walk. Her slippers, crafted of even finer material than her entire, ripped dress, have become too tight. Discarding them, she fled barefoot. Her padded feet stampeded across verdant forest floor. She covered far more ground than last time. It was easy, effortless. For this time, it was a werewolf who fled from a human, and not a human who fled from a werewolf. She leaped deftly over large rocks, roots, and ditches; ducked underneath low branches and partially felled trees; squuezed past brush and bush, thorns and all. Neither pacing nor planning. Neither direction nor detour. Just the occasional thought, perhaps of freedom, normalcy, home, but equally unsatisfiable. Adela could only hope to find a way home, find a cure. But this was already home.