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The Chains of the Blood­­­­­

By: Thorne­­­

Collaborators:

Hoshiginiro http://www.furaffinity.net/user/hoshiginiro/

Dorian Longstreet http://www.furaffinity.net/user/dorianlongstreet/

Chapter 1: Wandering

What was I doing here, was the question I began asking myself as I wondered about the dense woods of Penn's forest. My mind was very troubled, perhaps unreasonably so. The tall pines provided a dark and musky shelter. Breaks in the forest canopy allowed beams of light to reach the forest floor. The air was heavy with humidity and my mind was heavy with self defeating thought. I shouldn't be so troubled, today was meant to be a joyous day; for today was to be my wedding day. Was I troubled because my bride was a homely woman? quite the contrary! She stands a bit taller than most vixens, only about three inches shorter than me, and I myself stand at five feet and eight inches. Her lavender fur is as smooth as silk and as warm to the touch as the noon day sun. She had a lovely tail, full of volume, and her hair reached to her mid back when it lay flat. OH and her eyes, gosh those magenta eyes just command the attention of any man she encounters. Her gaze, could paralyze a liar's tongue. A skilled liar could only produce small fibs in her presence.

God never created a kinder soul, is another thing that can be said about her. Her family is well off, affording her to be an upmost giving person. The father of my bride to be, Mr. Vandersmith, was the town's clock smith, a skill he had become well known for. Brewing a mighty fine ale was yet another thing that brought fame to his name and currency to his pocket. As for his daughter, there's a good multitude of people she has helped out, mostly bratty young orphans and the occasional bum. We had grown up real close to each other, both of us being taught to read in write in a Quaker school. She has always been my dearest friend, standing up for me when others strayed to make a foul comment of my character. It was no surprise that we would have thoughts of love and marriage for each other. Mr. Vandersmith did hold some contempt for this; a reason I was unable to see at the age I began courting his daughter, Loraine, my sweet and gentle Loraine.

So why was I wondering about these woods, instead of preparing myself for the wedding? Anyone who didn't know me would be quite puzzled by my uneasiness, but I've always been known to be quite a worrisome creature. I worry about things that most people deal with every day. An unhealthy flaw of my character, but I can't seem to keep myself from worrying. So what had me so worried at this time to keep me from marrying the mistress of my heart? Finances my good friend, my overall ability to provide for my love and any children we might bear has been in serious doubt. Yet this is the first time I became concerned with this matter.

My father-in-law to be, Alexander Vandersmith could see this problem since before my young mind could comprehend the concepts of love and wealth. All of this is due to the fact that I have not been raised in a trade. My father himself had no trade of his own, he came to the new world, as a member of the colony's government; Mr. Vandersmith was also a member. An inheritance from a rich uncle is what afforded my father to buy stock in the colony and finance his voyage to America. Though he was only a minor member of the government, he didn't have to lift a finger for any amount of labor; his finances paid for the construction of our American home. Alexander Vandersmith on the other hand put his clock smith hands at risk to construct his own home. And a grand home it was, mortared stone walls two feet thick, it kept his home cool in the summer and prevented the cold from coming in the winter. A heavy wooden door at the entrance of his home was also quite capable of keeping the cold out. His cellar where he conducted all of his brewing, had a level stone floor. His home truly was an American castle, it took him two years to complete it and he managed to build it himself without injury.

My father was good friends with Mr. Vandersmith, and my father allowed him to stay in our home until Mr. Vandersmith had his finished. There was friendship between them, but Mr. Vandersmith showed concern that my father was ill prepared for the future, and my father was. During the colony's humble beginning my father found it difficult to live after financing the construction of our home. He attempted to do some minor work, but nothing held his interest long enough for him to become successful at it. Fortunately, his stock in the colony did pay off, after the colonies fourth summer; due to his investments in the colony, my father received a percentage of the colony's profit from its timber exports. By that time, I had come into the world; and my father was able to support his family through what he received from the timber exports. Yet in a way this denied me a valuable thing, a trade; for it is customary for a father to raise his son in his trade. My father had no trade to teach me and he lacked the sense to have me apprentice a craftsman.

This is the source of my current grief; my lack of a trade has fills me with doubt. I had had a desire to work for a press, but such a job is frivolous; I'd be unable to support a family properly by that means. I'm scared of failing my love, I worry that I am not worthy of her, and perhaps I am not deserving of her love. Though Alexander Vandersmith did not approve of our wedding, he was the one that financed it, yet another reason I'm ashamed to show up to my own wedding. The issues involved are tearing me apart; my mind forced me to stroll into the woods, where I continued to let the issues mull around in my head. My walk was peaceful outside the walls of my skull, but my feelings of doubt, despair, and inadequacy fed upon my soul like wild beasts feeding upon fallen prey.

As I mindlessly marched through the trees, dragonflies and moths flew through the dense air. Large white mushrooms were gathered in congregations amongst the trunks of the pine trees. A pond was nearby, this being the only thing of my surroundings that I perceived through my mind numbing thoughts. The musky smell of rotted vegetation could be smelt and the occasional bite of a mosquito could be felt. I had no idea how far away I was from town, and I had no care to figure it out. Before long I walked into a large clearing, the pines were absent here, not even stumps existed here. I smelt the smoke of a fire and in the corner of my eye I spotted a structure.

I awoke from my self defeating trance, I turned my attention towards a cottage. At that moment my entire being was focused upon this lone cottage. Its white walls stood out from the evergreen of the surrounding woods.

The cottage itself was round in shape, no square edges; the roof was overgrown with the same tall grass that covered the clearing, smoke rose from its stone chimney. The rear of the cottage was built into a grass covered mound, whether it was a natural mound or not, I had no idea. A porch extended from the cottage's front, supported by a stone foundation. A table and chairs lay atop its wooden deck and I believe I saw a person sitting in one of the chairs. The pond that I had perceived earlier lay a good distance in front of the cottage, the distance between would make for a nice after dinner walk. I was entranced by this mysterious cottage and the person sitting upon its porch. Though a bit of distance from it at the edge of the clearing, I began to ponder "What is this place?" and "Who is living here?".

Curiosity compelled my body forward towards the cottage, the tall grasses brushed against my pants, with each step my shoes sunk into the moist earth. My gaze upon the cottage was maintained as I walked through the grassy clearing, before I knew it I was close enough to clearly see the person sitting upon the porch. It was a woman sipping on a noon tea. She was a lovely young maiden; her long dark locks of hair blew in the slight breeze. The white gloves of an eloquent lady covered her delicate hands; a goldenrod colored dress covered her lovely body. She had an uncommon beauty about her, my lovely Loraine being perhaps her only equal. Her attention was elsewhere, and I was not perceived. I continued my approach, her lovely features had increased in detail; I was now a short distance from the porch, the scent of her freshly brewed tea filled my nostrils. Something finally brought her attention towards me, my feet stopped their advancement and my heart skipped a beat.

"Oh my, a visitor!" she said in an overly joyful voice, the bit of surprise in her voice was hidden by the joy in her voice. "Good day young sir, what brings you all the way out here?" she asked her voice chiming in a most pleasant manner.