FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

The bustle of nightlife echoes through Anteronia as many people enjoy the delights that come their way. Shorty, however, stands in the back alley of his little two-sided business, a pipe in his mouth and a bottle in his hand. Smoke curls up, embracing the street light before fluttering off into the darkness beyond, disappearing like all the random population that passes by on a day-in-and-day-out basis.

But not her.

He hears the click of those pumps on the cobblestone road and quirks his eyebrow, stroking his red-mane chin when the hobgoblin girl approaches. Her smile is bright as the moon and about as dangerous as the beasts who worship it.

"Outstanding work, mister," Robin says. "My feet don't feel tired at all."

"Shouldn't," he responds gruffly, pulling out his pipe and dashing out the ashes. "I made 'em, didn't I? What more do ye want from me?"

"Just coming to collect."

"And here I thought you were coming to liberate me from needless expenses."

"You know that change takes time."

"Aye, that it does."

"And the grandest schemes require multiple running parts."

"Seems about right to me."

"So, you just need to wait a bit more," she says, fluttering her eyes.

"Truth be told," Shorty responds, tapping out the ashes of his pipe. "I don't know what it is I'm waiting for. But this time, I don't think you're here for something as simple as a gold coin and a pair of shoes."

Robin reaches into her dress, pulls out a small sheet of paper from her cleavage, and hands it to Shorty, who, undeterred by the dim light, reads over it. "I'm no soldier."

"It's not soldiering; It's spying."

"Same fuckin' thing." He says, pocketing the note. "If you want me to do this, it'll cost ya two months instead of one."

Robin shrugs. "I suppose I can scrounge up the cash somewhere else, then. But it needs to look legit; My boss needs to know I'm getting the goods from the real place."

He grumbles. "You're blackmailing me, now?"

"Your words, Shorty, not mine."

"Fuck it all," he says, pulling out a pocket watch. "We got time. Follow me."

The hobgoblin gal follows her halfling friend back into the kitchen. Shorty breathes a sigh of relief before he turns toward the freezer.

That's when a gnome burst through the door, carrying a slab of bee in his hands. He peers over his hold to see the two whistling. "Nice catch, Shorty, ole' pal!"

Shorty grumbles.

Robin giggles.

The two step aside as the cook heads over to the stove and begins to prep the meal, chopping up some vegetables and humming to himself.

"So, is this where the magic happens?" Robin whispers.

"Not quite," Shorty admits, motioning to the freezer.

She rolls her eyes, grabbing his wrist. "Well, then, better just roll with it."

Shorty is about to protest when Robin pulls him into the freezer, slamming the door behind the two.

Two sets of breath rise up in the small enclosed space. Shorty shoots a glare of pure annoyance over at the hobgoblin while she snickers and hops on a box, crossing a leg over the other. "And how are you going to explain this little situation?"

"Wouldn't be nothing to explain if you just waited out there."

"Oh no, you don't. I know tricks, and you're not going to trick me."

Shorty snorted, marching past her. He rubs his hands together and presses his palm to the back wall. Golden light reveals intricate patterns that form a door hidden in the frost-laden wall. The ice cracks and shatters, falling as sheets on the ground.

"Subtle."

"Lobbley overlooks this stuff. Man's nearly blind."

"Your chef? Seemed to notice me."

"Lobbley's also a bit of a lecher," Shorty says, standing tall as the walls open up. "Now, I am no bank, and I'm not taking any notes from you. I need real wealth."

"No problem, no problem!" She hops off of the box and gracefully upon her pumps. "Now, let's see that vault."

"Sure thing," he says, spinning around and grabbing her wrist. "But first, we'll need to make a pact."

For the first time, Robin frowns, narrowing her eyes. "So, that's how it is, huh? Don't trust me to keep my word?"

"Not as far as I can throw you."

"How's your caber tossing skills?"

"You've got to be joking. Now, hold still." He places his thumb on her forehead, takes a deep breath, and slaps his palm upon her fuzzy flesh.

"Yow!"

"There. Now we all know that you shall keep your word not to tell the secrets I'm about to show ya."

"I didn't say anything," Robin whines, rubbing her head.

"You were thinking it, or else it wouldn't work." He responds, stepping into the doorway.

Robin smiles and is immediately blasted with the gentle warmth of a summer's day. The two are in a small field, with twittering birds and the gentle breeze of spring. In the center of this harmonious chamber is a tall and robust tree, and sitting at the bottom of that tree is a golden kettle.

And in that kettle flows many gold coins.

"I only trade in legal tender, lass," Shorty says. "Best pay up, or pay the price."