FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

The glow of the laptop screen highlighted the light blonde hairs interspersed throughout the bat's black fur. He tapped a single nail on the rough, wooden table and stared at the blank word document, eyes narrowed in deep concentration. A small tap on his shoulder brought him back to reality.

A short, thin fox with a svelte body and kind, inviting eyes stood next to him, wiping her hands on her stained apron a bit nervously. "Um, sorry to bother you, sir," she said sounding somewhat apologetic. "Just curious if you would like another drink. Perhaps something a bit stronger than herbal tea? You look a bit tired."

The bat glanced down to his empty tea cup and nodded. "It appears I do need a refill, thank you. Yes, a large coffee sounds great. House blend works fine for me. I'm a bit jet lagged. Just flew in a few hours ago."

The fox smiled, looking relieved that her interjection resulted in a satisfied customer and not the the typical backlash of rude behavior and bad attitude she usually encountered with the irregular patrons of the coffee shop.

"One large coffee, coming right up," she said cheerfully and collected the empty tea cup from the table.

The bat stared blankly at the young fox's swinging tail as she walked away, but a deep, thundering voice from the doorway of the cafe interrupted his thoughts.

"Oh I see how it is. Bryn moves across the country and he ignores his old friends for some tail. Mhm, I see how this is going already!"

Bryn's ears wriggled in the direction of the voice and he spun around in his chair, grinning widely. "Ah! Ralaz, still operating within your own time zone I see. I wasn't expecting you to show up for another month!"

The tall black dragon ducked a bit as he entered the coffee shop. As he neared the table, he pushed the laptop lid closed with a claw and sat down in the chair. He smirked and stared defiantly at the bat. He held up two claws.

"Two words for you: Fuck. You." He curled his claw back into his fist as he enunciated each word.

Bryn laughed and held up two fingers and mimicked the dragon, "You. Wish."

Ralaz crossed his arms over his chest, the electric blue, bioluminescent lines on his arms glowing faintly through the sleeves of his dark green shirt. He shook his head, chuckling. "Oh how I've missed you."

"Likewise," Bryn replied and leaned back in the chair, rocking on the back legs for a brief moment.

The young fox returned with the coffee, setting it down gently on the table. Bryn nodded his thanks and she smiled in return then turned her attention to Ralaz. "Anything I can get for you, sir?"

The dragon smiled toothily. "Absolutely. I'll take an extra large vanilla latte, with three shots of espresso, whipped cream and a dash of cinnamon and coconut shavings on the top. Oh, and just a touch of a light caramel drizzle."

The fox's eyes widened and she quickly reached into her apron for a pen and paper, hastily scribbling down the dragon's order.

Ralaz glanced to Bryn's cup. "Please tell me your order has gotten a tad more interesting."

Bryn nodded. "Oh yeah. It's a large coffee now instead of a medium. I'm out of control."

The dragon rolled his eyes and the fox dashed away to begin prepping his order. "So, what's really brought you back into town? I know you don't miss me that much." He leaned forward a bit and put his elbows on the table, resting his chin in his open palms.

Bryn's eyes studied the scuffs on the wooden table briefly and cleared his throat. "My, uh, it's my dad."

Ralaz raised his left eyebrow curiously. "Your dad? You guys haven't spoken since..." he waved his hand as he tried to think of how much time had passed.

Bryn nodded and slumped forward, resting his elbows on the table. "Yeah, since I first started transitioning."

The fox returned with the frothy latte, whipped cream dripping down the side of the mug. The dragon locked eyes with the drink and ran his long, electric blue tongue across his lips and teeth.

"Oooh, yes! Splendid, thank you!" he exclaimed and immediately lifted the cup to his lips as soon as the fox placed it on the table. He turned his attention to Bryn and cleared his throat. "Yeah, that was like three years ago. Has he finally decided to come around?"

Bryn shook his head. "Not exactly. Turns out he was in a bad accident at work. Gonna have to retire and collect his pension earlier than he thought. My sister called a few days ago and I got a flight out here as soon as I could tie up some loose ends with my clients."

The black dragon flicked his eyes to each side of the coffee shop. "Then what the hell are you doing here chatting it up with me?"

Bryn shot the dragon a look of exasperation. "He's not exactly on his death bed, just pretty banged up. Probably won't be able to walk very well again. Plus, I doubt my family would even recognize me after all the changes I've gone through." Bryn ran his fingers through the tuft of blonde hair on his chin.

Ralaz closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, letting out his breath in a slow, steady stream. "Now I see why you wanted to meet up."

Bryn nodded. "You're the only person I know who isn't going to tell me what I want to hear. You're the only person who can help me choose what needs to happen logically. Plus...." he forced a small smile onto his face. "I'm in town and video chat only does so much."

Ralaz chuckled and took a big gulp from his latte, swallowing audibly. "Okay, so you're a new man now. Been cross country. New job. New face. More hair, less tits."

Bryn placed a hand on his flat chest, visualizing the thin scars underneath his clothing. "Yeah, he smiled and laughed weakly. "Definitely less tits."

"So here we are. A young man returns to his roots after spending the last few years creating a new life for himself. His old life has caught up with him. He realizes that he can't escape his past." Ralaz paused and took a small sip of his latte. His tongue flicked out and licked up the drop of liquid that had stuck to the end of his snout.

"And now the hero of our story has completed the first step of his quest, the return to his hometown. But now he's gotta take it a step further. He has to confront his demons head on." Ralaz tipped his head back and drained his cup, setting it down on the scuffed wooden table with an audible thunk.

Bryn remained silent, waiting for the dragon to continue, but Ralaz said nothing more.

The bat's wings fluttered irritably. "That's it? That's all you got for me? Face my demons? You've got to have more than that!"

Ralaz shook his head. "'Fraid not, my friend. You have two options here: go and talk to your family. Face your father or don't. I wish there was another side to this, another way to spin it. But this is what you have to do."

Bryn's ears drooped and his face fell. "But they... what if they... what if they don't...?" He fell silent as he struggled to find the courage to verbalize his fears.

Ralaz narrowed his eyes and squared his shoulders. "Listen, I'm not saying that you are the only person in this situation that has to make a choice. They will also have to make a choice: let you in or keep you out. But you have to make a choice of your own in order to present them with their options."

Bryn frowned and chewed his lip nervously as he contemplated the dragon's words. "You're right," he said softly after a long silence. "You're right. I have to make a choice but it will hurt if they choose not to see me. Not to let me see my dad. Not to let me back into the family."

Ralaz nodded. "Of course it will hurt if they choose that option but at least you will know that you chose to reach out to them. You chose to try again and that's all that matters in the end is that you have a clear conscience."

Bryn sighed and his ears twitched. "I know... I know you're right. I know what I have to do. I've known what I have to do before I even got on the plane. I guess I just needed to hear it from someone other than myself."

The dragon lifted his head and searched the room for the young fox, motioning for her to come to the table once he locked eyes on her position.

"What can I do for you gentlemen?" she inquired as she reached into her apron for her notepad.

Ralaz smiled and gestured to Bryn's cup of coffee. "Take this man's coffee and dump it. Bring him something with flavor and character. Something exciting and adventurous."

The fox smiled nervously and reached for Bryn's cup hesitantly. The bat closed his eyes and nodded in defeat, a hint of a smile appearing on his face briefly.

"Yes," he said and stretched his wings as the fox picked up the cup and walked away. "Exciting and adventurous...."

The black dragon beamed at his friend and the electric blue glowing stripe of skin seemed to brighten in intensity. "You're a new man, Bryn," he said. "It's time to start acting like it.

##

Bryn looked down at his cellphone and his wings fluttered nervously as if they had a mind of their own.

I'm here.

He stared at the screen for what seemed like an eternity as he waited for his sister's reply.

She probably changed her mind. Doesn't want me here. I should probably just book the next flight home.

Jenysn's ears drooped and he locked the phone screen, staring into the black void of the darkened glass.

Home. Where even is my home?

He jumped as the phone vibrated in his hand and the screen lit up.

Door's unlocked. Come in.

Bryn locked the phone screen again and tucked the phone into the right pocket of his shorts. He inhaled deeply, squared his shoulders and walked toward the door. The cold metal of the door handle sent a shock throughout his body and he began to sweat profusely.

I can't do this.

Man up. Open the door.

The door opened with a soft whine and creak, the same sound it had always made. Memories and images of his childhood flooded into his mind as the familiar scent filled his nostrils. The scent of home was always weird to describe: floor cleaner and scented candles mixed with the faint hint of tobacco and marijuana smoke. In the summer, the strong aroma of insect repellant masked all of that. He closed the door behind him and the glass rattled slightly in their panes.

It was dark in here, darker than he remembered. The hunter green felt more like an inky black and not the vibrant green he remembered. The hardwood floor underneath the scratchy wool throw rugs had faded to a light brown shade from all the years of the sun beaming in through the dining room windows. But now, those same windows were closed, the shades pulled down and the curtains drawn.

He's not even dead and it feels like a tomb in here.

Bryn continued toward the back of the house to the kitchen. The vinyl floor was still the same ugly green and white vinyl he rememered. He studied the designs on the squares. Was it a flower? A tree? After all these years, he still had no idea what the designs on the tile were. A mystery that would perplex him until the grave.

He looked out the window above the kitchen sink to the back yard. The grass was overgrown, probably up to his knees if he were to go out there. The above ground pool was green and teeming with mosquitoes. The surrouning wooden deck was worn and some of the planks were warpred from the years of wear and tear, scratches from long bat claws and the harsh storms of the summer and winter.

A small smile appeared on his face as he recalled the long, hot summers of running around the yard, the grass soft and cool on his feet. He would work up a sweat, chasing his sister around the yard and the two of them would jump up, flap their wings, then curl their wings around their bodies, tuck their knees to their chest and fall into the pool. His mother's aggravated screech echoed in his mind as the splash from their cannonballs soaked the deck and her entire body. He couldn't help but let out a soft chuckle at the memory.

A voice floated down to him from upstairs.

"We're up here!"

His ears twitched as he heard his sister's voice greet him and walked back toward the living room to the bottom of the stairs.

"Who's here?" his mother's muffled voice replied.

He froze, one foot on the bottom stair.

"It's just Bryn," his sister replied.

Bryn held his breath, waiting for his mother's reply in complete silence.

"Oh," his mother replied.

Bryn bit his lip in contemplation and released his breathe in a fast rush. How very typical of her. The noncommital, uncaring, "oh" she was so known for saying. She said so much and also so little in the way she said, "Oh." The goddamn world could be ending and she would reply with a simple, "Oh."

He shook his aggravation from his mind and climbed the stairs, making a quick left at the top landing and walked toward the master bedroom where he saw his mother and sister sitting in chairs at the foot of the sagging queen-sized bed. He crossed the threshold and entered the room.

His mother, a short, thick bat with light brown fur flecked with gray, did not rise or make a move to greet him. She raised her eyes to meet his and nodded. "Hey, kid."

His heart sank into his stomach and his stomach jumped to collide with his heart at the sound of his mother's voice. "Hey, mom," he said, his voice cracking slightly.

"Well, shit, let's be a bit more awkward everybody," his sister quipped as she stood up and wrapped her arms around Bryn, hugging him tightly. Her dirty blonde fur was soft against his coarse, black fur. She unfurled her wings and wrapped them around him.

"We've all missed you," she said softly and stepped back from him slowly, pulling her wings back toward her body. Her bright blue eyes glistened with repressed tears. "I know why you left, but... just know that I wasn't happy about it. We weren't happy about it."

Her eyes flicked toward the bed and the gray ears of the bat lying underneath the mound of blankets.

Bryn took a step back and turned toward the bed. His ears drooped as he watched his father sleep, his chest rising and falling in an even rhythm.

"So... just how bad is it?" Bryn asked, transfixed on watching the old bat sleep.

"Pretty bad, but he could bounce back," his sister replied.

"Layra, always the optimist," he said and smiled.

Layra laughed. "Well, someone has to be around here!"

"Bryn..." his mother spoke up softly. He turned to face her.

She stared at her husband for a moment and then turned to face her son.

"Bryn... I do like the name. I never got to even pick your old name. Your father did that while I was still knocked out from the C-section. So I guess it's fitting that I never got to pick your new name."

Bryn could hear his heart pounding in his ears. His stomach flipped and twisted. His breathing was labored and he could feel the lump forming in his throat. She used his name. She talked to him. She was looking at him and acknowledging him.

"Mom... I... you... I... I've missed you..."

Bryn crossed the room and dropped to his knees, throwing his arms and wings around his mother in a tight embrace. The tears flowed freely between both of them. For a few moments, there was nothing but the soft sound of sobbing and sniffling noses.

"What's all this noise?" rumbled the gruff voice from the bed. The old bat rustled underneath the blankets, but did not emerge from his cocoon of warmth.

Bryn froze and his body stiffened while he was still locked in the embrace of his mother. She offered him a reassuring squeeze and pulled back, giving him a slight nod. He slowly pulled away from her and turned around to face the bed as he rose to his feet.

"Uh... sorry... Dad...." he said softly, his voice shaking.

The old bat blinked blearily and reached his left arm out blindly toward his bedside table, where his glasses sat waiting for him. Bryn walked toward the table to assist, but the old bat barked and made him stop in his tracks.

"I got it! I don't need your goddamn help!" his voice, though softer and weaker with his age and condition, still was enough to make Bryn droop his ears and wings in submission. He walked back toward the foot of the bed.

After a few minutes of prolonged fumbling around for the glasses, the old bat finally got his fingers on the frame. He brought them to his face shakily and placed the arms firmly behind his ears. He blinked a few times, getting used to his improved vision and locked his eyes on Bryn.

He blinked a few more times, as if he thought his eyes were playing tricks on him.

"Hmph," he grunted.

Bryn said nothing, his heart pounding.

Childhood memories of he and his father flooded his mind.

##

His tenth birthday. Their first camping trip with just the two of them. Father and son. Well, father and daughter at the time. But was it really? A daughter that was more of a son.

His dad let him bring his bow and arrow toy. A cheap plastic thing he bought from a dollar store. The arrows were flimsy plastic and didn't fly far.

His father handed him a pocket knife.

"Find a good stick," he said. "I'll show you how to whittle an arrow for your bow."

Ten years old with a knife in his hands, carving a stick into an arrow. He took great care to make the best arrow he could and when he loosed it, it flew straight and struck true.

His father's face glowed with pride. "Atta girl," he said, raising his can of beer to his lips, tipped his head back and polished it off.

Twelve years old. A summer block party.

The boy had dirt smeared on his face and a piece of sticky blue cotton candy was stuck to the corner of his mouth. They had their scooters ready to race down the street.

"Are you a boy or a girl?" he asked.

"I'm a b-girl!" Bryn exclaimed and took off in the opposite direction of the kids. His foot slammed the asphalt repeatedly as he pushed the scooter to its max speed. He reached the front step and let the scooter fall to the ground with a loud clatter.

He left the oppressive late August heat and humidity behind him as he pulled open the front door and threw himself face down onto the couch, the couch cushions soaking up his tears and muffling his sobs.

"What's wrong, hun?" his father's voice inquired. "I saw you run in. What happened?"

"He asked if I was a boy or a girl. I like boy clothes is that so bad?"

His father frowned and sat on the couch next to the small, sobbing child.

"It's not bad, but maybe it's time you started to dress more like a girl. Act more like a girl. Give up this whole 'tomboy' thing. You're almost in high school."

Bryn raised his head from his arms, his face soaked with tears and sweat.

"I don't want... I don't want to be like a girl. I want... I want to be like me."

His father's frown deepened and he could see the concern on his face.

"I don't know, kid. Get some tighter jeans. Shorter shorts. Get a real bra. Your mother can help you. Your sister too. They can help you."

Bryn sat up and stared into his father's eyes.

"How can you say that? That's not me. Don't you like me?"

His father sighed and rose to his feet, walking toward the front door.

"Of course I like you, but I think it's time for you to grow up."

##

The old bat narrowed his eyes and studied Bryn.

"So, you're finally a boy now," he said.

Bryn's anxiety quickly turned to aggravation. "I, uh, yeah I am. I'm a boy."

His father nodded and motioned for him to come closer. Bryn approached the old bat.

"Help me up, boy," his father said and Bryn helped sit him up in the bed, propping the pillows behind his back. The old bat waved his hands in annoyance.

"Git, git. I'm good. Just needed a hand is all. Now, what the hell are you doing here, kid? You abandon your family for three years and now I get hurt and that brings you back? What you think I'm gonna croak and you get to come back and collect?"

Bryn's eyes widened at the harshness of his father's words.

"Dad!"

"Wym!"

His mother and his sister scolded the old bat for his tone.

Wym raised his hand, demanding silence. "I don't give a shit what any of you have to say."

Bryn's wings twitched in anger and he bared his fangs at the old man, a hissing sound in his voice as he spoke.

"Abandoned my family? Are you kidding me?!" he bellowed.

"You shut me out. Told me I wasn't a man. Told me I'd have to take myself somewhere and sort it out. And I did. I left and I sorted it out. And here I am, Dad. I'm back. And I'm your son and you're gonna have to get used to that!"

"Don't you dare come in MY house and raise your voi-"

"No! This is my house, too! I grew up here! This is my home, my first home and the only home I'll ever know.

"I came back here because I heard you were hurt and I wanted to see if there was anything I could do to help the family. Even though you and mom barely talked to me for the last three years, I still came back. Because isn't that what family does, Dad? They don't abandon each other. Or have you forgotten that when you decided to not talk to me for three years?!"

Saliva started to drip from the sides of Bryn's mouth and he wiped it away with his sleeve. He closed his eyes for a moment and inhaled deeply.

"It looks to me like you're not gonna croak anytime soon, so I guess I'll just head out and fly back to town for your funeral to help mom and Layra clean up the shitstorm you left for them."

Bryn moved toward the door.

"...Wait...."

His father's voice was soft, yet commanding.

"Just... wait."

Bryn paused and turned to face his father.

"What? How much more bullshit can you possibly have saved up to throw at me?" Bryn replied. "Oh, wait. I'm sure it's a lot since it's been three goddamn years since you've said a word to me. So, go ahead, lay it on me old man."

Wym closed his eyes and massaged his temples with his fingers.

Bryn's mother and sister stood and exited the room quietly, realizing that the two men needed the privacy.

"Are you a boy or a girl?" Wym asked.

Bryn's nostrils flared and he flapped his wings, his anger igniting once again, but his father's question hung in the air, echoing in Bryn's mind. He folded his wings and took a few deep, calming breaths.

The rapid transition between emotions stirred within Bryn and caused his eyes to well up with tears.

"I... Dad... I'm a boy, okay? And I'm not sorry that I'm not a girl. I'm not sorry I'm a boy. I'm the same bat I've been my whole life. My clothing hasn't changed. My interests haven't changed. I'm the same. Nothing has changed."

His father shook his head and Bryn swore that he saw the faint glisten of a tear in the corner of his eye.

"Everything has changed," Wym replied, still shaking his head.

"You're not a boy."

Bryn stared at his father, too exhausted to feel anger, his heart too heavy with anguish to feel anything at all. The tears in his eyes overflowed and ran down his cheek.

"And why am I not a boy?" Bryn asked, his tone sharp and sarcastic, voice cracking slightly from the tears he was failing to contain.

His father sighed and ran the tips of his claws through the gray hairs of his beard.

"Because you're crying," he replied. "Boys don't cry."

Bryn choked on his tears.

"Are you serious? Are you kidding me? Boys don't cry?!" Bryn shouted in exasperation.

His father nodded and wiped away the tear that escaped and threatened to run down his face.

"Boys don't cry, son," he said softly and reached out toward Bryn.

"Boys don't cry, Bryn, but men do."