FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Aaron was awakened by the sound of an engine, backed by tyres sliding on dirt.

He opened his eyes to see that it was morning, and he was alone in a double-bed. The surroundings were unfamiliar, and it took a few moments before he remembered where he was; in Illinois, in one of Sandra's spare bedrooms. Sunlight was streaming through the window, beating down from a cloudless blue sky; the storm had passed, and his clothes were folded up on the back of a nearby chair.

He sat up in the bed as he heard the sound of a bunch of car doors opening and closing, but a quick look out of the window showed that whatever it was, it was on the other side of the house. However, what was on this side of the house surprised him; his Mustang. It was cleaned and polished up, and he could see from up here that the keys were hanging in the ignition. There were only one set of tracks near it, so she must've somehow fixed the engine herself.

The sound of an angry voice interrupted his train of thought; Sandra's. He couldn't hear what she was saying, but she was yelling at someone.

He grabbed his clothes, and with a few hops, stepped into his jeans, then pulled on his shirt before creeping along the landing to a bedroom on the other side of the house.

A red pickup truck, with a shiny, new paintjob, had pulled up outside, and standing around it were three equines; to his surprise, they were all Clydesdales, like himself.

"C'mon Sandra, you know yer Paw didn't plan for you to live out on all this land by yerself."

The speaker was the closest one to the truck. He was overweight, and his tan-and-cream fur and hair were tinged with grey at the temples. Certainly he was much older than the other two, who were foals to Aaron, though he supposed they were technically adult.

"I've told you before, O'Rourke! Paw left the farm to me, and I'll hold onto it as long as I fucking please!"

Aaron looked down towards the kitchen window, and could see both barrels of Sandra's shotgun sticking out of it. She wasn't kidding around.

The older equine, evidently called O'Rourke, took another drag on his cigarette, blowing a cloud of smoke before he spoke again.

"Sandra, how many times are we gonna do this? The boys and I come, you hold up that 12-gauge, we have to break something to teach you a lesson, you cry, we leave, and we don't see each other for about a week."

"You don't have to come back," she yelled.

He put his hands on his hips, and ground his right hoof in the dirt.

"Girl, you're runnin' outta stuff for us to break. Sooner or later I worry it'll be something you'll miss."

He looked around, before his eyes settled on the barn. He reached into his pocket and produced his lighter, flicking it a few times.

"Be a hell of a tinder-box in this heat, Sandra," he said.

"You wouldn't dare!" she yelled back.

Aaron crept out of the room and back along the landing until he reached the room in which he had slept. He was paralysed by indecision. On the one hand, he had told himself that he wasn't going to get involved in his host's affairs; on the other, he knew that she had taken him in when she could've just sent him away. He was used to being a problem everywhere he went. It started long before his time in the army, and had persisted through his service, culminating in that single moment to which every gunshot dragged him straight back; a penance, perhaps, for his mistakes, for poking his nose where it didn't belong.

He looked around for anything he'd left, then lowered himself out the window until he was hanging off the sill, and let go. He fell to the ground with a thud but stayed on his hooves. Then, he opened the door of the Mustang, got into the driver's seat, and grasped the keys.

~~~

"I don't want to do this, Sandra, but I will!"

"You touch that barn, I'll, I'll..."

"You'll do what?"

"She won't do anything," Aaron shouted, as he strode out from around the house. "I, on the other hand, will fuck you up beyond repair."

All three of the equines turned to face him as he approached. One of the younger ones, the closer, started to laugh.

"Listen to Sherlock freakin' Holmes, here. Oh aye guv'nor, cup-o-tea-uh, hey, w-wait!"

Aaron had no time for posturing. He walked straight up to the jeering horse and punched him clean across the face. The strike was good, pushing his head to the right from the force of the blow. The equine staggered back, then fell to the ground like a sack of potatoes.

"Wanker," he seethed.

Aaron spit on his motionless body, then looked up at the other two, who were stunned at the sudden assault. The younger one regained his composure first, yelling,

"You limey piece o' shit! Don't you know who you're dealing with?"

With that, he ran headlong to try and tackle Aaron to the ground, but it was no use. Aaron met his charge head on, slipping under his shoulder and winding him around with little flair, but perfect form. The movement ended with the equine bent over in front of him, his arm held up in a lock.

"Let go o' me! Let go!" he screamed.

"Stop struggling," Aaron said. "I'll break your arm if you don't."

"You can't-" he started, but Aaron levered the man's wrist another few degrees in response. It brought out a howl from his throat, and in moments, he was still. As soon as he stopped moving, Aaron brought up a foot and placed it on his rear, then, with a swift kick, he shoved him into the side of his red pickup truck.

The equine's skull pinged off the bodywork with a thud, and from the way he writhed in pain afterward, it was clear that the fight had gone out of him.

O'Rourke chuckled at the sight, and tossed his cigarette to the ground, then stubbed it out with his hoof. Aaron glared at him, but he didn't seem fazed.

"So Sandra got herself some muscle, huh?"

Aaron shook his head.

"That woman doesn't need anyone to help her."

O'Rourke burst out laughing at his words.

"True enough, true enough. She's a firebrand and no mistake." He addressed his two charges. "Keith, Billy, get back in the truck. We're done for today."

At his words, the two younger equines got up, and limped to the back of the truck. Aaron moved so as to give them a wide berth; he had only wanted to scare them off, after all.

"You," O'Rourke said, "I could use someone like you."

"No you couldn't," Aaron said.

Aaron's reply prompted a snarl on the older equine's face; nevertheless, he climbed into the driver's side of the truck, and hit the ignition before speeding off, kicking up a cloud of smoke from the tyres.

"Aaron!" Sandra shouted, as she came running out of the house so fast she nearly tripped over her paws. "What the hell were you doing?"

He held up his hands in a 'whoa' gesture.

"Well there's no need to shower me with thanks," he said.

"I had everything under control!"

"They were about to burn the barn down!"

"They're always about to burn the barn down! Don't you get it?"

Aaron snorted. What was he meant to do; just leave? She'd been in an armed confrontation, after all.

Her ears lowered, and she looked to the ground, while stirring the dirt with a footpaw.

"Paw, he, I mean, he had debts. Debts to the sort of people who don't give up just because someone's six feet under. They want this farm to pay them off, but it's my home. Always has been."

She looked up at him.

"Aaron, you're not safe here. You have to go."

"Sandra, I'm sorry, I..."

"Go. Now, please."

She didn't even look at him as she said the words, but still, there was little room for misinterpretation. Aaron turned and headed back to his car.

Once in the driver's seat, he grabbed the key and turned the ignition, hearing the engine purr much smoother than it had before. He put his hoof to the floor, and drove around the house and towards the highway, trying not to think too much.

It wasn't far, and in moments, he was about to pull onto the road, when in his rear-view mirror, he caught sight of the barn, the house, and watched as Sandra walked back inside.

He slumped over the wheel to think.

He should leave. He knew that. She'd asked him to leave, after he wasn't meant to be here in the first place. She'd been pretty clear about it, too. He should move on, just like he did from the army, from England...

Because it's worked so well up until now, he thought.

He looked back at the house, at the mailbox standing right outside.

Maybe... He thought.

"To hell with this," he muttered, and floored the pedal, before spinning the wheel and jerking the car around in a u-turn, tyres squealing until he had the house in view. The car launched off back in the direction he'd came, rattling and banging over the uneven dirt, until he had the mailbox square in his sights.

He drove straight into it, ramming it with the front bumper. It came down with a crash on the hood, and he hit the brakes until the car came to a stop.

Sandra came running out of the house as he switched off the ignition and got out the car. By now, steam was rising from the damage caused by the smashed mailbox.

"What the..." she started, but Aaron interrupted her.

"Yeah, I had a bit of an accident. Looks like it'll be a pain to fix, I might need to stay for -oof!"

Aaron didn't finish; instead, Sandra ran from the porch and almost tackled him to the ground. Tears streamed from her face as she pressed it into his shirt.

"You jerk! You complete and utter..."

"Same to you," he said, placing his strong arms around her shoulders.

The end, at least for now - but Aaron and Sandra can return in future stories if people like!