FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Far to the south of Malaketh, over the snowy mountains and dark forests, lay the village of Kalel. The village was of moderate size, almost a town really, and had a year round local population of about forty. Unlike Malaketh, Kalel had no walls. Most of the houses were simple farms with pastures were feral cows and horses grazed contently. The center of the town was packed more tightly, containing various shops, a florists, an inn, and the mayors house (which was, as it happened, generously sized).

One of the largest farms, located on the outskirts of the village nearest to the dark forest, belonged to the Darkfang family. The Darkfangs had owned the land for many generations, and they provided a large portion of the village's supplies through their live stock. Underneath the lush green angel leaves of a willow tree, on a hill that overlooked the farm, sat the a lone figure gazing out into the fields with a sense of longing.

The figure was that of the land owner's one and only son, Quinn Darkfang. Quinn, like his father and mother, was a anthromorphic wolf. His fur was a deep onyx that almost seemed to blend in with the shadows that surrounded the base of the tree. He was clad in a simply woven pair of blue pants, and a plain white cotton shirt. However his most intriguing feature, as well as his most horrific, were his eyes. Quinn's eyes were a deep scarlet, like the color of dried blood. Because of this he was picked upon quite often by the other children in the village, and regarded with unmasked suspicion from the adults. They thought he was a 'freak', something evil. That was the label he was forced to carry for sixteen long years, a burden which became heavier with each passing day.

One of Quinn's greatest wishes was to be able to work in the fields with his father, to have a sense of purpose in this world. This was one wish that would never come true though. When he was whelped his legs were horribly disfigured, having rotated unnaturally in his mother's womb. The village midwife, an old fox known as Gretel, had done the only thing she could for the pup. She broke both of his legs, from his hips to his feet, and reset the bones so that the bones would grow normally as he aged. However this left him with many disadvantages. One was that he could not travel even small distances without an aching pain coming from both of his legs. The only thing that seemed to help this was the use of a walking stick, which lay in the grass beside him. It was a beautifully crafted piece made by his father, Cana Darkfang. The stick itself was a good two and a half inches taller than he was, and at the tip his father had carved their family's crest; a wolf's paw with two swords crisscrossed behind it.

A long sigh escaped Quinn's muzzle as he took his gaze away from the fields were his father worked under the harsh sun to gather in the years crops. It would do no good to sit around moping to himself. That accomplished nothing. With that he stood up and brushed the dirt from his pants. Then, picking up his walking stick, he headed toward the center of the village. As he walked he noticed furs hanging up lanterns from housed and trees, and stringing colorful ribbons from every available surface in preparation for the nights festival.

Each year, near the end of summer when the red moon was fullest, the village of Kalel held a harvest festival to celebrate the end of the growing season, as well as to thank the Gods for the years bounty. The tradition dated back as far a Quinn could remember, and it was a time he looked forward to each year. There was games such as apple bobbing, ultimate limbo (which was far more serious than regular limbo seeing how the pole was on fire), ring tossing, arm wrestling, and so on. Some of the more talented furs were even selected to come up and perform feats, or sing. Most importantly there was dancing. Traditionally a male fur, who had interest in another female fur, would go to them in the day and beseech them to be their partner for the evening. However this simple request had a much deeper meaning than it appeared to. It was a chance for the male to show their feelings for the female, and a chance for the female to return them by accepting the invitation. To Quinn this was the event that meant the most to him. Each year he wanted to ask that one fur for whom his heart longed, and each year he had chickened out. This year was going to be different. This year he was going to ask Rose Swifttail to the festival.

Rose was a red tail squirrel, and the daughter of the towns most prosperous merchant. They had moved into town when Quinn was only a pup, but he could remember the day as clearly as if it had happened only moments before, rather than years. Quinn had been in the village square looking for something to do when a group of other furs his age came upon him. Without warning the leader of the group, a male Jackal, had knocked him to the ground. Within moments he was surrounded by the boys and they began yelling at him, calling him names like 'freak' , and 'demon boy' because of his eyes. Then, as if to add to his torment, they began to viciously kick him in his ribs and back without mercy. He had been about to pass out from the pain when the kicks suddenly stopped. What he saw when he opened his scarlet hues all but dumbfounded him. Standing up to this group of five boys was a lone beautiful squirrel girl. Her face was contorted with such scorn that rivaled that of the village elders. To this day Quinn was never quite sure what she said to them, but the whole group was left with their heads hung in shame. Then without even hesitating when she saw the color of his eyes, she gently took him in her arms and helped him stand. When she saw that he could barley stand form being kicked so many times she simply carried him, surprisingly strong for her size, all the way to his house. From that day on he knew he loved her, and the feeling had only strengthened with time.

Coming back to the real world he found that he was nearing the center of the village. Soon he began to pass by different shops that sold a variety of goods. Normally he would have stopped to browse, but instead he headed straight for the florists. Upon opening the plain wooden door, which ironically had a flower carved upon the brass handle, he was greeted by the sweet perfume of countless fauna. The shop owner, an old vixen named Vivian, was finishing up a transaction with a brown male field mouse. She briefly flashed Quinn a warm smile in greeting, before turning her attention back to the customer. For the time Quinn was more than content to browse the various rows of flowers while he waited. Before long though she came over to him, still smiling warmly. However when she reached him it was clear that she was blind, her eyes being covered over by a dull gray film. Despite this she moved effortlessly about the shop, sometimes with even more ease and precision than those who could see. After all she knew exactly were everything was, having placed them there herself.

"Ahh Quinn its good to see you again... in a manner of speaking." She laughed heartedly before continuing. "Are you here to pick up your order of a dozen lilies?" She asked him, all ready making her way to where she had stored them.

"Yes I am. I am still surprised that you could get them on such short notice Vivian, I know they do not grown around here naturally." Quinn said, clearly amazed at the vixen's ability to procure his order so quickly. He had only mustered the courage to asker two days prior. Within a few moments she came back with the flowers cradled tenderly in her paws as if they were a fragile child.

"Oh come now." She tutted, wagging a finger at him with an expression of mock hurt. "How could you ever doubt in my abilities, hmm? You should know I always come through for my customers." At that she laughed and shook her head. "But I see someone has a bit of a romantic interest for this evening's festivities, hardly anyone comes in here this time of year except for that. So lover boy... who is the pretty lass that has so entangled your heart?" She asked in sultry voice, a broad smile on her face.

Quinn blushed fiercely at the old Vixens words, embarrassed by her bluntness. If there was one thing he could say about Vivian, it was that she wasted no breath beating around the bush. He quickly looked down trying to hide the fact that he was blushing, and then realized the ridiculousness of his action. She was blind, though he believed she somehow knew he was blushing all the same. Never the less he answered after recomposing himself, his voice a mite smaller than before.

"I-I got them for Rose. I was going to go to her house later and ask her to be my partner for the festival... I doubt she will say yes though. I'm sure she has plenty of others interested in her." That and he doubted he could compete with them anyway. After all he was the village freak. Though he decided to not say that last part out loud.

The old fox only smiled warmly resting her paw on Quinn's shoulder gently. "Do not worry about them dearie. Most of the males in this town are a bunch of pig headed dolts, but you... you are quite different from them. Everyone looks at you and sees you only for your eyes-" She ran her right paw over his eyes before cupping his cheek, "-but I see you for who you really are Quinn. That is all that truly matters, and I'm sure she will see that as well. I swear just because I'm blind I can see better than everyone else in this place." Her voice sounded as though she was trying to make light of the situation, but she couldn't bring herself to laugh. It was far to sad to laugh about such a thing.

He looked up at the old fox with a deep admiration, for her words truly touched his heart. Words were not enough to express how thankful he was, so instead he hugged her tightly for a few moments. When he released her she only nodded her understanding before gently pushing him toward the door.

"Now go Romeo, before it is to late. You can't expect her to wait all day without making a decision." She said softly, shaking her head.

He nodded and thanked her once more for the flowers before taking his leave. Once out of the shop he headed toward the Swiftail's house, which was located not far from his own.

It took him about thirty minutes of walking to reach the beginning of the worn dirt path that lead to the Swiftail house. Along the right side of the path was a weather worn brown wooden fence. On the other side of the fence, in the lush green field, grazed five feral horses. The leader, a muscular looking roan stallion, lifted his angular head as Quinn passed; keeping a wary eye on the him. However Quinn's attention was more focused upon the house before him. With each step he drew closer to it he felt more self doubt fill his heart.

Once he reached the ornate wooden door, after climbing those cursed steps (he did not really like steps in general to be honest), he paused thinking. What was he doing? Here he was, flowers cradled in one arm, walking stick gripped in the other with his brow furrowed in pain as he tried to ignore the burning sensation in his hips. He looked ridiculous. There was no chance she would say yes anyway, he was a freak and that's just how it was. Sighing he turned around ready to give up and leave when the door opened behind him.

"Quinn? What are you doing here?" A soft, almost musical, voice called out behind him. A voice that he recognized immediately.

Turning around he smiled awkwardly as he looked upon the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. There before him was a female Squirrel whose fur was such an odd shade of brown that it almost seemed a light red. She wore a plain dark green dress that loosely fitted her body, only showing the light gray chest fur that rested above her cleavage. Her Jade eyes were wide with curiosity and surprise at seeing him, and her smile... yeah her smile.

His ears pulled back in embarrassment as he tried to put the question in his head into actual words... well words that would be coherent anyway.

"Well I umm... came to ask you to the festival tonight. That is if... you want to. Its ok if you don't." That was the biggest lie ever. Of course it would not be ok if she said no, it would be the equivalent of tearing his heart out. As he waited for her answer his heart hammered so hard and fast within his chest he was surprised that it wouldn't break through his ribcage on it's own accord.

"Wait... really?" She asked in a small disbelieving voice that he had to strain to hear. His first thought was that she was trying not to laugh at him.

"Yes really." He said flatly, trying to not betray the fear that threatened to creep into his voice.

However instead of laughter she did something unexpected. She... squeed? Honestly that is the best way to describe the noise that left her muzzle. Then without warning she threw herself at him, causing him to drop the flowers and walking stick just to catch her.

"Of course I would go to the festival with you Quinn! Do you know how long I have waited for you to ask me?! Every year I waited but you never did. How come?" She said to him, leaning her head back enough to look at him while still hugging him tightly.

He couldn't help but laugh before replying with a shocked expression on his muzzle. "Well to be honest I was terrified of asking all these years, I thought you would turn me down. Wait a second... you waited? Does that mean...?" He asked, letting the sentence trail off. The meaning was clear enough.

She simply nodded in response, letting her head rest on his chest. He would have been more than content to stay in that moment forever, but it was interrupted by a horrible scream from inside the house.

"Get the fuck off of her you fucking bastard!"

Then things happened all to fast. He let Rose go gently to look at who was screaming, though he had a fairly good idea who it was. At the same time there was the sound of running footsteps, and then.... And then he was flying through the air.

With a heavy thud his back hit the ground, and he let out a groan of pain. His face also starter to blaze with pain, and he held it with his right paw. When he pulled it back it was covered in blood. Someone must of punched him... hard. Looking back up at the porch he saw a male squirrel standing next to Rose glaring down at him with unmasked hatred, her father James Swiftail.

James was a fairly plump squirrel, but that did not mean he was weak in anyway. He was stronger than he looked, and he could pack one hell of a punch as Quinn just found out. He wore a ridiculous purple robe that did next to nothing to hide his plumpness, and wore a gaudy necklace that was almost sure to be fake. In fact James' whole personality was fake. He did not get to be a prosperous merchant by being fair, but rather by swindling people left and right. He would smile at you one day, and knife you back the next. After all it was nothing personal, just business. Right.

"You stay away from my daughter, do you hear me you little freak? She does not need to be corrupted by the likes of you." Turning to Rose he then shifter his anger to her. "And you! You ARE NOT going to the festival with him." He said, almost spitting the word 'him' in disgust. James went to open his mouth again but before he could say anything there was a loud THWACK! Rose had slapped him right across his cheek, hard enough to cause him to stumble backwards. Shocked and infuriated at his daughter's clear disobedience, he raised his paw as if to strike her, but stopped dead in his tracks when he noticed the dangerous glint in her eyes. She waited a moment, giving him the chance to hit her, before sticking her finger in his face as she spoke in a deadly tone.

"I am going to the festival with whoever I chose father." She said addressing his title as he had done to Quinn before, by spitting the word at him. "You are not going to tell me what to do anymore. Just because you ordered my mother around and hit her, do not make the mistake of thinking you can do the same to me. I will not just sit by and let you do as you please like she did. If you doubt me then please by all means..." She outstretched her arms, inviting him to strike her. After a few moments when he did not she spun on her heels and re-entered the house. For a while both males stood there absolutely dumbfounded by her sudden outburst of anger. When she returned to the porch she bent down, picking up the walking stick and flowers, and the proceeded to walk over to Quinn. Handing him his walking stick she shot her father a challenging look before gently kissing him in his cheek.

"Go home and get ready for later, ok? I will come to you with a carriage so you don't have to walk all the way back into town. Go on, I will pick you up when it gets dark." She said softly in that same musical voice, pushing him gently. Blushing deeply from the kiss he only nodded and headed down the path, his pain completely forgotten after the kiss.

She watched him leave sighing softly to herself. Looking down at the flowers in her arms she couldn't help but smile. Lilies... they were her favorite. When he was out of sight she walked back into the house, past her father who still stood there staring into space in utter shock. No one had ever stood up to him before.

________________________________________________________________________ (Later that night)

Quinn stood on the old wooden porch of his house, looking up at the sky. Tonight The Red moon, often called Lunitari, was full and shone brightly. The thousands of stars that surrounded it seem to shine like jewels, each one adding to it's awing beauty. There were few things that could compare to the moon's beauty, however the sound of horses approaching brought to mind one that managed to surpass it's magnificence.

Slowly the black carriage came, drawn by two heavily muscled feral black stallions. The driver wore a formal black suite with a plain white dress shirt underneath the coat, a black bow tie, a black top hat, and a pair of matching white gloves. He was a Possum who Quinn had never seen before, and for a while he just gawked at the sight of the carriage coming down the dirt path to his house. It was like a scene straight out of a fairly tale, though it would seem that fairly tales could come true with the proper amount of money and determination. Luckily Rose happened to lack neither, especially the later.

However the most impressive moment was when the carriage came to a stop at the end of the stairs. The door opened as Quinn began to descend the stairs, but before he could reach the bottom he stopped dead in his tracks. Out of the door stepped Rose, yet for a moment he did not even recognize her. She wore a gorgeous frilly scarlet ballroom gown that accented her fur, and it flowed so seamlessly with never a wrinkle as she moved. Her legs were clad in a pair of sheer black stockings, and her feet in black heels. What drew his attention though was the scarlet lace collar around her neck, and at its center was a one of the lilies he had given her earlier that day.

"So... how do I look?" She asked, twirling on her heel to give him a 360 degree view of her dress as well.

For what seemed like far to long words escaped him. If his Jaw could drop to the ground it would have, and it would have kept going. He just stood there staring in awe at her beauty. Somehow that look alone was all the answer she needed. A wide grin spread across he muzzle and she offered him her hand. Without hesitation he took it with one hand, grabbing his walking stick off the porch with the other as he descended. He helped her back into the carriage before climbing in himself to sit across form her. Throughout the whole ride to the center of the village he could do naught but stare at Rose's beauty in awe, much to her embarrassment and amusement.

All to soon the ride seemed to end, and they gingerly stepped out of the carriage into the world beyond. The night streets were draped in colorful ribbons, and hanging lanterns that stove off the darkness. All around others gathered. Most came on foot, and others arrived in carriages like Quinn and Rose. There were stalls set up wherever space allotted, each hosting it's own unique attraction. However the most popular sight was that of the stage in the village square. The stage was made of polished pine, and came apart in various sections to support hasty erection and empanelment. Here the most amazing performances were held. There were jugglers, plays, illusion tricks, and towards the end music.

For a while the two roamed the various stalls, stopping every so often to play some of the various games that were set up. Most they had lost at, but in an impressive feat Quinn managed to knock down three stacked bottles in one game, winning Rose a stuffed plushy of a bear.

Then, as the beginning cords of a harp could be heard across the square, Rose took Quinn's hand and led him nearer the stage. Once they were close enough to hear the music clearly she put the bear and his walking stick off to the side and took his hand once more. Leaning into him she rested her head upon his shoulder, her body pressing against his before whispering in his ear.

He blushed deeply beneath his dark fur at the sudden closeness, but he was far from protesting. Without a word he wrapped his arms around her, holding her close as they danced to the music around them. For so long he had waited for a moment like this, and now it happened. He was with her, and she him. For the first time fate seemed smile on him. They danced for the rest of the night, Rose resting her head upon his chest contentedly for the majority of the time. Yet in that entire time Quinn's legs did not ache once, in fact he did not feel any pain even though he only briefly noted this. He was far to distracted to pay it much attention, all he knew is that this night was perfect. Their bodies move in perfect harmony with the music, as if they were one with the music.

Again to soon the music ended, drawing a final close to the festival. Letting out a soft sigh of protest he stopped the entrancing movements, reluctantly pulling away from her. Rose only smiled sadly in agreement, collecting their belongings before heading toward the waiting carriage. The possum stood waiting patiently with the door open as they climber in. As the carriage pulled away Rose moved to sit next to him, resting her head on him again. Smiling, and blushing a little, he put his arm around her. The feel of the dresses' fabric like silk in his hands.

For a while they said nothing, neither wanting to break the purity of the moment. If he could Quinn would have stayed in that moment forever, with her in his arms. Then the carriage began to slow to a stop. Looking out side the window Quinn realized he was home. Or rather he was all ready home with her, and now... now he must leave it. The two stepped out of the carriage and walked slowly together to the door. Inside the lights were all out, Quinn's father having gone to bed long before. Cana rose with the sun, and was a grump when he did not get enough sleep. When they reached the door Rose spoke, shifting her weight form foot to foot nervously.

"Quinn may I ask you something? Something... serious?" She asked hesitantly, causing him to look at her curiously.

"Of course." He replied, his tone gentle.

"Well two actually." She laughed nervously before continuing. "The first is did you have a good time? I mean, well, with me?

He smiled and nodded, hugging her tightly before leaning back to look in her eyes while still holding her. " Of course I did. There is no one else I would have rather spent tonight, or any other night, with."

His words caused her to smile and blush fiercely, electing a small chuckle form Quinn. Though that was only one question, and he was curious now.

"And the second?" He asked.

"Well I was going to ask for you to kiss me, but I decided against it. Instead i'm going to kiss you." She smiled and quickly kissed him passionately before surprise could even begin to register on his muzzle.

Her lips locked with his, igniting a fire in both of their hearts that was fueled by the love they felt with each other. With each passing moment the flames soared higher. Each fraction of a second, a lifetime. It felt as though it lasted for decades, and yet when it ended it felt far to short.

Smiling she kissed him once more in farewell before descending the stairs. He watched as she got into the carriage and it drove her away, off into the cruel beautiful night. Only when the carriage was out of sight did he move, and it was not inside the house. Instead he crossed the fields and walked up the hill that lead to the weeping willow, choosing to sleep beneath the stars that night. The last thing he remembered was thinking of Rose as the crickets song lulled him to sleep.

________________________________________________________________________ (The next morning)

Something was wrong. Quinn stirred in the depths of his dreams, barley aware of the feeling of wrongness. With each passing second the feeling grew, and before long a horrible smell reached his nose. Smoke. How could there be smoke in his dreams... wait. He didn't smell things in his dreams. With a snap he bolted awake, looking around wildly. It took sometime before his conscious mind registered what his eyes saw. There was smoke all through the air, rising up into the pale blue sky of the morning. Slowly his disbelieving eyes followed the trail to the source... his house. His house, or rather the charred skeleton that remained, was smoking. The crops in the fields were all burned, wasted in the horrible fire. Without thinking he ran toward the house, adrenalin giving his legs the strength they needed to move.

He stopped at the bottom of the charred stairs, now crumbling in on themselves, and gazed in horror at the house. He could see through the walls that were no longer there, through the empty halls and into his fathers room. There amongst the blackened remains of his father's room was his blackened skeleton, the smell of burning flesh and fur slowly sifting through the air.

His father was dead...

Gone.

Tears flowed down his cheeks like rain as he wailed, agony striking his heart. How could this of happened? How? This was not natural... someone must have done this in the middle of the night.

Worry forced him to look towards the town, and Roses house. Yet the horrific truth was there as well. Black streams of smoke rose into the sky in the distance as if laughing at him, laughing at his pain.

Rose.

That one word caused him to run wildly towards her house. He ran as he had never ran in his life. His brain did not even register the pain his nerves screamed in, there was only one thought in his mind. Rose. He had to find her. He had to protect her.

In the end he did not have to run far. There at the fork between the road that led to the Swiftail house, and the one that lead to the center of the village, was the black carriage. It was not scorched by flame but it was tipped on its side, battered. One of the wheels was missing, and the two black feral stallions were no where to be seen. As he drew closer he noticed the one thing that caused his heard to shrivel within his chest. There laying face down in the side of the road was Rose. Her dress was ripped, and her face was bloody. The possum driver lay further ahead, but he did not see him. He only saw her. All he saw was her lifeless body laying face down, the bear doll still clutched in one hand.

When he reached her his legs gave out, and he fell to his knees weeping uncontrollably. His vision blurred but he could still see the horrific image of her corpse. Taking her in his arms he held her cold body close, weeping in agony. All he knew was pain.

Time seemed to have no meaning, so he could not say how long it was before he heard the sound. It was long enough that he had run out of tears, and his body just convulsed in sobs. It was the sound of a sword being drawn. There at the other side of the carriage stood three furs. The first, and leader of the group, was a male German Sheppard. He grinned at Quinn as he drew near, his sword drawn with lethal intent. Not far behind him was his lackeys. One a female poodle with tattered gray fur. She had a scar that ran down her cheek, but she grinned all the same. Lastly was a black rat whose red eyes who laughed madly at the devastation around him.

"Well well, what have we here lads?" The Sheppard asked, speaking in a thick Irish accent.

"Lookss like a ssurvivor boss." The rat replied, giggling as he spoke. His eyes darted all around, never focusing on any one object.

"Aye that it does, and a strange one no less. Eyes o' the demon he has. Well little fella, I'm terribly sorry to break this to you but she is dead lad. Gone. Kicked the preverbal bucket so to speak. I should know, I ran her through." He laughed mercilessly as he spoke, clearly not regretting the horrible murder he had committed. "Hell I even burned this bloody town to the ground, and yet... ye survived. Unfortunate, but I will tell you what. I will kill you quickly so you don't have to be in any more pain, how does that sound? Would be a shame to leave ye here in agony, now wouldn't it lads?" He asked the rest behind him who all laughed in agreement.

For a while Quinn said nothing, he just stared at the Sheppard blankly as if not understanding his words. But after a time he did speak, his words almost to soft to hear.

"You... you did this? You killed her? You killed... Rose?" He asked, his voice betraying the anger inside of him.

Raising his sword threateningly the Sheppard replied sharply. "Aye I did, and what of it? What is a wee little whelp like you going to do? Cry me to death?"

Quinn didn't reply. He didn't even think anymore. His mind, his body, every fiber of his being was consumed with rage. Slowly, without telling his body, he rose to his feet. His scarlet eyes glittered with rage as he rose his hand into the air.

"Sastili vila moth ana'h" Quinn spoke the words again without thinking or understanding. All he knew was what would happen next. Without warning a horrible popping sound filled the air as each of the Sheppard's limbs were twisted horribly by an unseen force. Bones broke, splintered, and stuck out of his flesh as he collapsed to the ground crying out in agony. Quinn didn't even flinch as the blood spattered his face.

Yelling alarm his companions all rushed toward Quinn, each rushing to kill him. Each befell the same fate as their leader. Moving slowly Quinn stood over the crying bodies, picking up the leader's sword. With slow movements he slid the blade slowly into the guts of each member, save for the leader, making sure they died slowly. When at last there was only the Sheppard left he paused, planting the sword in the ground.

"You killed Rose." Quinn said flatly, without emotion. It was a statement, a fact. Not an accusation.

"Please... I'm sorry." The Sheppard pleaded, coughing up blood. "Please in the name of the Gods, have mercy."

"Gods?" Quinn asked, a curious tinge to his voice. "No... no Gods. Just me." With that he took his foot and slammed it down on the Sheppard's broken leg, electing a horrible screech of pain from him. He proceeded to do this to each broken limb, and then repeated the. He did this until there were no more screams. When the screams ceased he looked at what he had done, and collapsed. It was a long time before he woke. ***

Shirra had been traveling on the road now for five straight days, only pausing to rest. There was an urgent sense to her mission, it felt like time was running out. Each day this feeling grew stronger within her, and each day she pushed herself harder. It was only on the fifth day, the day that she reached the village of Kalel, that her fears were realized.

Every where there was devastation. Bodies littered the main square, and buildings were either burned down or still burning. The stench of death was heavy in the air, causing her to gag. Walking amongst the dead corpses a dark realization struck her. She was to late. The foretold was dead. She had failed.

She was almost about to give up hope when she heard the terrible sound of screams in the distance. Screams so heavily laced with pain that she raced toward them without thinking.

Reaching the source she found not people in pain, but corpses. Everywhere the ground was coated with blood. There were four armed men laying in the dirt, their limbs horribly disfigured. What was most terrible was their leader, a dark brown German Shepard. His fur was heavily matted with his own blood, and his face was contorted in a horrible scream of pain. It was obvious why. His limbs, like the others were twister at painful angels, but also crushed. There were pieces of pone sticking out of his flesh from every angel, and his skin almost seemed to sag where the bones had been crushed. What could have done something so horrible?

It was then that she noted the placement of the bodies. They all faced one dark furred Wolf, whose arms and legs were coated in scarlet. Unlike the others his chest rose and fell with the steady movements of breathing. He was alive. Could he be the one she was searching for? Looking around her she dismissed the question. Of course he was. What else could have done this?

Only later that night did the male wake. By then Shirra had build a steady fire to keep the chill away. At first he stirred, slowly lifting himself into a sitting position. He looked around himself with a blank expression as if confused, but soon realization dawned upon his features. Moving quicker than she thought was possible, given his state, he picked up the Shepard's discarded sword and pointed it at her.

"Who are you?" He asked harshly, fear clearly making his anger flare up once more.

Shirra tried to hide her surprise at the other sudden burst of agility, raising her empty palms up in the air to show she meant no harm toward him. Only now, with a sword pointed at her face did she notice the creatures eyes. They were scarlet... she had found the one who saw blood both literally and metaphorically it would seem.

"My name is Shirra. I am not going to harm you, so please would you mind..." She gestured toward the sword.

Sighing the wolf apologized, lowering the blade to the ground before casting it away with a disgusted expression. When he seemed to calm down she spoke in a soft voice.

"What is your name?" She asked.

"It's Quinn... Quinn Darkfang." He said his last name as though it caused him pain, bringing back some distant memory that he would rather forget.

"Quinn what you did to these men... it was magic." She said, pausing a moment before continuing. "I come from a place where there are people who are like you, people with the gift of magic. It is a place where they are taught how to control their gift. I have come her to ask you to come to this place Quinn. If you do not learn how to wield the power you possess many could be hurt or even killed because of this."

She said this more somberly, folding the arms of her dull brown robe together as she spoke. Without Quinn noticing she slipped the hidden dagger within the robe into her hand, readying it. If he chose not to come with her then she would have to kill him. She could not risk letting him hurt anyone else in his ignorance, whether it was intentional or not.

For a while he was silent. He just sat there thinking, his scarlet hues staring into nothing. Just when she was about to repeat the question he replied, his voice emotionless.

"If I go with you, to this place you speak of... will I become more powerful?"

Shirra was taken aback by not just the question, bur the way he asked it. There was no emotion in his voice. Just... emptiness. It sent a chill down her spine.

"Yes you will become more powerful." She said, not sure if she would regret those words.

"Then I will go with you. But before we go we are going to bury Rose." With that he stood and limped over to the side of the road where yet another corpse lay. This one was of a beautiful squirrel female, her fur almost seemed red. Quinn picked her up tenderly in his arms before setting off, and without comment Shirra followed.

________________________________________________________________________

Quinn and Shirra stood on the hill that overlooked the place where his father's farm once stood. There beneath the willow tree was a mound a freshly dug dirt, under which rested Roses body. As the sun began it's ascent over the mountains Quinn sang. His voice was rich and clear, but it was laced with a deep sadness that seemed to carry across the land.

Oh raven where are you flying? Oh raven surly you must know, that inside I am dying For my heart is filled with such woe

Never again shall I hear her Softly call out my name. Never again shall my heart stir Nothing shall ever be the same

No more shall I hold her in my arms Her touch is one I shall miss No more shall her lips sing her charms Or share with me the sweetness of her kiss

Oh raven were are you flying? My heart hath but one request If you are a guide for the dying Then guide her safely to her final rest.