FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

The white tigress's heart skipped a beat as she saw the street sign: Raspberry Line and Almond Field Road.

She looked down at the little sketch of the map she drew on a piece of notebook paper the night before. From here she turned right, and put it into her pocket as she made her way down the street--Ket's street.

The houses were very tightly packed together, and only a few had driveways. She passed by a little parking-cove where a few spots were taken. Mailboxes were obstructing the sidewalk, and once she had to actually step onto the street to get around a big hulky stone one. How were kids supposed to ride bikes in this neighborhood with all the clutter?

She stalled in her step, spotting a mailbox that read 428. The next one read 430. Shoot! She missed it, and she was on the wrong side of the street. She quickly turned back around and jogged down the sidewalk, narrowly embracing a pencil-thin mailbox, expertly camouflaged for optimum collision potential.

After a few moments of jogging, she read the numbers from across the street: 407...405 What was the exact number again? It rhymed if you said it right. Four-one-nine Raspberry Line.

Daggum, she missed it again!

She crossed the street, barely glancing both ways. Safely on the other side, she counted the mailboxes one-by-one, gingerly approaching the correct house, and realized why she'd overlooked it so easily.

It was very different from the picture on the computer. Its cream paint had turned into more of an amber, and the beautiful purple bush was just a heap of dead branches. It looked like petrified hair, keeled over to one side. She felt a little bad for the thought, but it was like looking at the real-deal compared to the catalog.

Then a worse thought occurred: What if Ket is the same way? But then...that's why she was here, to find out more about him. To find out if she really liked him--maybe even if he liked her.

She took in a breath, double-checked the number, and then looked at the time. She would need to call in about thirty-five minutes, or else everything would crumble.

She shifted her backpack and loosened the straps a little, but then paused before she tightened them again. What looked better? One shoulder, two; hanging down really far, or tight on her back like a baby koala? She gave up; too much to think about. She primped her hair, looked herself over, and then walked up to the door by way of landscape stones.

The front door was dark brown and had a big chip in one of the relieved squares. The brick pillar to her right as she passed into the vestibule had a gigantic scar about two feet long, with ants or some kind of bug crawling in it. There was a broken statuette of an owl laid on its side against the wall. A bright line in the stone walkway signified where rainfall was blocked by the cutters above.

Ignoring the little flaws, she sucked in another breath and knocked.

A moment passed. She knocked again.

Then, without warning, the door opened. A thin lady-tigress stood at the threshold, very tall and a little unkempt. She wore jeans and a light-blue shirt with a small red jacket on top.

As prepared as Emeral tried to be, she had no idea just how badly this would go if she had the wrong house.

"Hi there!" The woman said sweetly, after an awkward pause. "Can I help you?" She smiled.

"I uh...are you Mrs. Rachaun?"

"Yes I am," she replied, leaning against the side of the door frame. "Who might you be?"

Thank goodness...

Emeral did not hide the relieved sigh. "I'm...my name is Emeral. I go to school.--With Ket, I mean; I go to school with Ket. I'm in his class."

The woman's eyes seemed to light up a little. "Oh! I'm sorry," she opened the door wide, "please come in," her arm ushered dramatically; "I don't get to see many of Ket's friends from school."

"Thank you," Emeral said, stepping over the aluminum threshold onto dirty white tile.

The front door led a small kitchen. It was longer than it was wide; probably took up the whole front of the house. There was barely enough width for two adults to side-by-side comfortably. Upon the stove and counter-tops were piles of papers, junk and ...more junk.

"Oh please, don't mind the mess, make yourself comfortable. Would you like something to drink?"

"No thank you," Ket's classmate replied, "I just came to tell Ket something on my way home."

The mother gave a sort of gritted-teeth look. "He's uhm... He's a little upset at the moment. See, he--" The phone cut her off. Mrs. Rachaun slumped forward and groaned; "Please don't be work..." She turned back to Emeral, hand on the phone, "Um, listen, go ahead and go upstairs, he should be right up there; but at your own risk, okay? He may be a bit...snappy."

"I understand, thank you!" She bowed, a habit she had picked up from Ju-Jitsu classes, and then headed around the corner where his mom pointed to.

The stairs were to her right.

Past them, a room opened up that she honestly could not see very far into. It was completely dominated by boxes, clutter and the pure sense of the word: stuff.

Ignoring the room, she took the stairs. They went up a short ways, then double-backed. She took a few steps up, the wood beneath the carpeting grumbled homely, like someone muttering during a nap. At the turn, there was a little square window that just looked out to the next house, but it was nicely placed to allow light into the otherwise darkened area.

A series of thumps from the top of the stairs turned her head.

"I know I had it..." A growl. "I checked there...check my backpack again..." More thuds and rustles.

Suddenly the cunning little devil felt kind of stupid. No doubt he was looking for his missing treasure. What should she do? Waltz on up with it in her hand? Sure, if she wanted to give him a heart-attack and get on his sour-side. Go back down and wait for his mom to be an ice-breaker? Maybe that would be best--but it was too late.

He came to the top of the stairs, and she could see the exclamation marks in the slitted pupils of is eyes.

She smiled meekly. "Hi Ket," she said, wiggling her fingers in a nervous wave. She looked to the left, and in the corner of the platform was his backpack. She picked it up, "Is this what you need?" She climbed the stairs until she was just a couple steps between them. She proffered the backpack, and he took it reflexively. "May I come up?"

For another three heartbeats he stared, as if he couldn't decide whether she was really there, and then shrugged and turned.

So here she was, about to step into an angry tiger's den. She wanted the first step to feel magical; it felt more intimidating. "Your mom says you're upset?" She asked, letting one shoulder strap of her backpack go to start digging in as he was distracted.

"Why are you here, Emeral?" He questioned, digging through his own backpack, his voice full of malt.

Just be natural. She pulled out the silk bag. "You lose something?"

"Yes, okay," he said with an annoyed huff, straightening up; "I lost my--" He turned to face her, and saw her hand outstretched a little.

The change in him was like a time-lapse of the sky. He melded from quick realization, to skepticism, to a bit of caution, to reluctant belief.

She nodded, and stepped closer to him. Take it.

His backpack hit the ground with a fwump. "Where did you get it?" He asked, his malty tone sweetened with relief.

She closed her eyes. "I'm not gonna lie. I stole it out of your backpack during recess." She slitted her lids, wary of his gaze.

His eyes were fixed on her, like he was deciding whether or not to be angry.

"I mean...I stole it but..." She took a breath. "Lyza, my friend, overheard Ritzer say he was going to steal it, so I took it to keep him from taking it, and..." Wow, that sounded a lot more rational in her head.

The tiger's eyes were cool and sharp, and he was close enough to reach and take it. But he stepped closer still, causing the nervous tigress to retract her arm a bit to keep the object level. At last he stopped, and looked down at the silk bag as if he just noticed it.

Her hand began to tremble. This wasn't going at all how she imagined. Worse, she couldn't tell what he was thinking--was he skeptical, tired, furious; or, heck, even brain-dead from the whole thing?

Heartbeats passed.

At this point she didn't care, she just wanted those eyes off of her. Her hand shook feverishly. "Take it!" She finally said, stepping back and holding it out as if she planned to turn and run as soon as he did.

His fingers rose up and closed around her hand and, like a magician, slipped the bag off her palm so carefully she barely felt it leave. The only sign of its absence was a gentle tug, and a change in weight.

He cupped it in his hands, his thumb methodically rubbing over the silk. Then, focused back on her. "Did you open the bag?"

She shook her head emphatically, "No. Not at all. Never!" She swiped her hands with each statement. "I didn't mess with it at all. I just took it from your backpack into mine and brought it out just now, I swear," she met his eyes; "I swear."

He looked at the bag and then back to her. "Did you get to see it okay when I walked it around?" He asked.

The question caught her off guard. She realized that his eyes had softened; the slitted pupils were wider, much more relaxed. She held one arm with the other, letting the tension of the past few moments settle behind her.

"Not... Not really..." She admitted.

"You... want a better look?" As he asked, he opened the bag up and coaxed the block of wood out. Before she even responded, he placed the naked block back into her palm. "Here," and he held her wrist, ushering her, "come to the window."

He led her to the couch and, with his free hand, he tugged at the cord of the blinds, allowing a shaft of light to break into the room.

Instantly the Eye of Horus came to life. She had seen gold before, on jewelry and on TV, but never like this. It looked like liquid sun, drizzled into dark chocolate. It was so bright that it made sun-spots on her eyes and reflected off the strands of fur upon her cheeks. She could see clearly every line of the golden eye, hypnotized by its allure, subtly mottled from being pressed into the grooves.

"Ket, honey," a voice came from the stairs, "I just got a call--oh! You found it!" His mom spoke with relief, "I was so worried about it."

"Emeral found it at school," he explained.

"Thank you for bringing it to him, Emeral."

"I didn't...uh...you're welcome," the little white tigress handed the artifact back to Ket and he bundled it up.

"Well, now that that scare is over...oh kid," she growled in an admonishing tone, "How many times do I have to tell you to clean your room?" She bent over and picked up a white pair of briefs off the floor.

"Mom!" He shouted, leaping up from the couch, dashing over with incredible speed, and snatching it from display and concealing it in his armpit.

"Well, that's your own fault little mister," the lady-tigress scolded playfully.

He grumbled and walked to a far door, throwing the underwear inside and also kicking some other clothes with his foot before shutting it.

"Anyway," his mom tried again. "There's a problem at work; Jenn and Paula called in 'sick'," she mimed quotation marks, "so now I'm stuck pulling a double...but it's good pay. The downside is you'll have to fend for yourself for dinner."

"Do I need to leave right now?" The girl asked.

"Oh no, Emeral, you're welcome to stay as long as you like," she said with a smile. "I don't normally leave Ket all by himself, so I'm sure he'd like the company; just make sure your mom knows."

"I'm fine by myself, mom," he protested.

Emeral nodded with a smile, "I guess I can stay a little."

"Sounds good," Ket's mom clapped with a satisfied sigh, before bidding farewell. They listened as her feet clomped down the stairs. A few moments later, the door shut.

The room was silent for a moment longer, until the tigress decided to break it; "If it makes you feel any better," she said, "I have underwear lying on my floor too."

The blushing boy said something under his breath, and then more loudly, "I'll be right back." He disappeared into another room beside the couch.

She waited, taking her shoes off and placing them bottom-up on the carpet, even though she had already tracked them across the floor.As he disappeared for a little bit, she gazed around the now-not-so-angry-tiger's den.

The floor had lots of clothes on it, but no more underwear. It also had lots of pieces of paper. She reached out to pick one up and see what was on it, and then gave up right away. It had a bunch of box-shaped symbols, some with dots. Maybe he was a secret agent from an alien planet...

But he did have stuff a not-alien boy might have. She swept the walls from the door to his supposed bedroom. There were magnet-toys, Legos, and a Hot-Wheel's box stacked beside a bulky CRT TV, which sat on a short, wobbly looking TV stand. On top of the set was a gray box that looked like a game-system, but she couldn't recognize it if her life depended on it. Beside the TV was another door that was closed tightly.

On the half-wall opposite the couch, which ultimately fell away to the stair banister, there was a desk. The desk was simple enough and had a lamp on a long, skinny neck like from Toy Story. On the wall to her left was a poster of outer space. That seemed alien-like. She moved on. Aside from a large cabinet at the other end of the couch, like a kind of armoire, there was the door Ket had shoved his underwear into.

In the few seconds' glance, she heard a few noises: a squeak like an old spring mattress, a wooden cluk, and an extended grating noise like he was slowly closing a pocket-door. The air stirred as his paws padded the carpet in his approach back into the room.

Silence.

"So...your mom's nice. Where does she work?" She asked, patting her hands upon her lap.

He slowly walked over, sitting down at the other end of the couch. "She has two jobs, but she's working on being a bank-teller." He reached up above and slid the blinds back down without having to look at his actions. "She's a waitress," he answered directly, "and a checker at the grocery store on weekends."

"She has to work two jobs? Doesn't your dad work?" Instantly she regretted the question when she saw him sort of darken. It was as if he knew the question was coming but still hadn't prepared. "I didn't mean to..."

"Dad's not around anymore." He said calmly, his expression relaxing.

"Oh," She scooted closer to him, and reached to put a hand on his shoulder, "I'm sorry for your loss, then."

His eyes blinked and he shook his head. "No, no, he didn't die," he shrugged his shoulder so her hand fell away, "He just...my parents broke up."

"What?" She asked with disbelief, "Parents can't do that! They're married till death do 'em part."

He shook his head again, "No, even if you're married you can break up. It's called a divorce. It's..." He stopped, fingers fidgeting, "Complicated."

She tried scooting a little closer, just enough so he wouldn't notice, even though he probably did. "You don't need to explain. I didn't mean to make you feel--"

"They had to go to court," he began, and paused after realizing he cut her off. After a moment of silence he continued, "It took a long time...dad left the house...lots of yelling when he ever came to get something of his." He leaned back and placed his hands on his stomach, relaxing in the couch. "They broke up cuz mom said dad cheated and that was the last straw."

"Cheated? Were they taking a test?"

He paused, as if thinking how to answer. "I dunno what she meant." He shrugged. "I guess it was some kind of test; they kept talking about another person, and I think dad was getting answers from her."

Emeral tried to pick her next sentence carefully, and after a moment of rejections she decided not to botch it up by saying the classic. "I'm sorry, Arkethius."

He glared, and got up with a huff. "Don't." He growled, pacing.

"Don't what?"

"Don't feel sorry." He said, frustrated. "It's not a big deal."

Her face flushed. She got to her feet, and looked at him from just under her eyebrows. "I'll feel how I wanna." She said, crossing her arms.

"How do you even know my name?" He asked, still pacing, his voice raising, "How did you find me? No one else ever comes to my house."

"Well I wouldn't think so." She said placing her hands on her hips, "You seemed to keep yourself hidden from everybody. I had to look you up in the Directory, and it wasn't like 'Bing! There he is.' If I hadn't heard Mr. Erst say your last name I would have never even known where to start. And I woulda called but you," she pointed, "didn't have your number in there." She folded her arms, as if to say 'so there!'

"Cuz no one ever wants to call."

"Well I do! But I couldn't, so I had to find your house on the map."

He sighed. "Why didn't you just give it to me after school, or wait till Monday?"

Her anger fell away, "Huh?"

"The Eye of Horus. You didn't have to go so out of your way to return it."

She blinked, her flush of anger morphed into a blush of nervousness. "I...I did all that before your presentation," she admitted, clasping her hands together and sitting back on the couch.

"...So you didn't come here just to give it back." It was a statement, not a question; like he was confirming an assertion he'd thought of already.

She looked up to see him standing bent over, picking up some of the other objects on the floor to clear them out of the way. "No... Well, yes, but that was...improvised..."

"Then," He tossed the clothes aside, "Why'd you do all that? Seems a little ridiculous."

"Because I..." She stood, and, looking down at the floor with a finger in her mouth, walked toward him. "I...wanted to tell you something...something important." She was only a couple inches from him, which seemed to make him a little agitated but he didn't move. Experimentally, she reached out and put her hand on his shoulder.

Their eyes met for a moment, hers nervous and unfocused; his sharp and keen.

At last she took in a breath, but no words came out. She slipped into panic, acting without really thinking.

His vision whirred as he was spun around, and his left arm was pulled behind his back. He staggered back, a bit of pain striking his left shoulder from the sharp angle his arm was pulled into.

Her right hand hooked under his armpit and pinned it up while pulling in on his neck so that he could feel his pulsing arteries. He grunted, spittle falling from his muzzle as he tried to force her arm away. But no matter how hard he tried he couldn't move it.

He was trapped in one of the worst headlocks he'd ever experienced.