FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

The wolf raised his head as the all too familiar siren signalling the end of the days work droned. To some, the siren was a reason to rejoice. It meant finally, a time for rest. Runai wished he felt that way. Wished he had a reason to raise his head, other than to avoid an altercation with a furless who believed that he was too savage to understand the meaning of the noise and that a swift beating may help to ease that savagery.

Savagery? How could they not be viewed as savages when the furless treated them as they did. He didn't even bother to try and keep himself clean anymore, none of the 'old breed' did. Some even wore it as an emblem of pride, as if their filth was some kind of challenge to the so called 'perfection' of the furless race. It wasn't always this way of course, Runai remembered frequently while trudging in line back to the hovels the life he had before this. The life of Runai Darkmane. Born of the Alta clan of the Hensai Mountains. Freedom was a right of the wolves who inhabited it. The mountain was his mother, a mother whose harsh life had taught him to fight, hunt and live.

The same mother that the furless had ripped from him so many moons ago. The mother they now defiled in search of precious stones and weapon ore. As he walked, the black wolf thought of the mother once more, and sadly reflected upon the fact that by working in the weapon forge in which the camps imprisoned furs were forced to toil in, he may daily be burning pieces of his mother alive.

The wolf's thoughts ended abruptly as he reached the gates of the compound and submitted to the body search. Security was extra tight after the recent incident of the wolverine who used a forge spike to attack and kill furless guard. Runai removed his plain grey labour slacks without even a hint of embarrassment, furs had almost never worn clothes before the furless came, it was his daily moment of feeling some of the freedom that had been taken from his life, once more.

The hovels, or the 'hall' as the furless called it, was a saddening sight to behold. A huge den of rock bricks filled with cells in which the furs slept. Once the furs were locked in their sound proof room for the night, the furless ceased to care what happened, one of the reasons why Runai was glad the other furs were frightened by him. In the centre of the building was the meal place in which every fur nourished their pitiful existences at day meal and night meal.

Runai trudged in and took his usual sitting place, a place every fur knew was his, and feared even to tread on. There was something about him, the fact he never spoke except on the order of a furless guard at morning call, and even then, it was little more than a low grumble, a begrudged "present" that did nothing to characterise him at all. Also there were the rumours. Of the tauren who sought to claim him when he was first transfered to camp, but whose only prize was a broken neck. Runai didn't care what they thought, but enjoyed the solitude their fear bought him.

A loaf of week old bread was soon thrown at his feet, followed shortly by a kick for not raising his head to acknowledge the existence of his furless tormentor. Meal was a time of silence, broken only by the occasional hacking cough of a fur that no doubt had been assigned to the fire rock mine recently. After meal was leave time, a brief period in which the furs were allowed to converse amongst themselves before a nights rest. Runai, as usual, leant back against the wall that bordered his sitting place and began to block out the world.

His eyes opened shortly later, as the familiar sound of chains rasping on the stone floor signalled the coming of the camp's newly arrived members. Backs bent, the furs shuffled in single file to the middle of the room. As they moved in, Runai sighed to himself at how broken they looked. A dragon, with wings slashed and crudely bound by the furless to prevent him from flying to freedom. A one-eyed tiger, whose bound eye wound had obviously bled recently, staining the fur below his eye a dirty crimson. Each new arrival was more beaten and tamed than the last, except for the last fur to enter the room.

The small arctic fox caught Runai's eye, but not for the reason the other, crueler furs were. He was a particular creature, with a lithe frame, snowy white fur and a unfixed gaze, it would have been easy to overlook the filthy fur. But behind his hair Runai once again found the reason he had stopped to study the fox. His eyes. They were the bluest the wolf had ever seen. But no, that wasn't it. There was something else about those eyes that had caught Runai's attention, and he soon saw what it was.

When it came time for the fox to be unshackled he deftly snapped at the guard and in that moment his eyes showed a defiance that stirred something deep inside Runai. The moment was lost however when the fox received a stunning blow to the side of the head from the furless guard. Recoiling adequately enough for the furless to be satisfied with his punishment, the new prisoners were left with the warning that the torches would be doused soon signalling the time for cell locking and sleep.

The furs who had been eyeing the fox moved in almost immediately, a huge sneering boar and a sly faced cobra began introducing themselves and offering to keep the fox safe. It was all to familiar to Runai, the poor thing could haplessly thank the furs for showing him some kindness in such a foreboding place and follow them blindly to their bed cell to be taken in a way that no fur deserved. To be used, as little more than a means by which these horrible furs funnelled their anger, sadness and loneliness.

It was at this point that Runai realised he had risen and was now moving towards the fox and his so called 'friends'. Heads were already raising to stare at him. The black wolf never moved until the torches were doused, why was he now moving towards the group of new furs?

Runai felt the eyes upon him and this, along with a feeling he couldn't place, caused him to keep moving and push past the boar and the cobra. The two furs seemed surprised when they turned to see the silent wolf moving between them them. They seemed slightly startled and backed away accordingly. Runai used this opportunity to speak directly to the fox.

"Come with me" the wolf growled in a low voice, still not knowing why he was doing this. The boar looked for a minute as if he would object, but the sight of the black wolf that had supposedly killed a tauren with his bare paws caused him to hold his tongue and move aside. Runai turned to move back towards his cell but stopped when he realised the fox hadn't moved with him. He turned and said once more "Come with me" but the fox stayed silent. Runai was growing impatient now, this little fox had already caused him to be noticed by the other prisoners and now he refused when Runai was trying to keep him safe for reasons he himself could not quite comprehend.

In an act of desperation he grabbed the fox by the scruff, and half pulling, half dragging marched him towards his sleeping cell. The fox yelped slightly at the suddenly rough treatment, but Runai didn't notice, he was angry at the fox, but he was even angrier at himself for rising to help the foreign creature. But there was something else Runai felt, something he couldn't quite put his paw on, something that had made him save the fox, and the foxes eyes had caused it.

Runai knew one thing however, this little fox had changed him in some way, but in what way the wolf could not yet understand. Shaking his head Runai realeased his hold on the fur and continued towards his cell with the fox trailing obediantly behind him out of fear.