FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Chapter 40: Ripples in the Pond

They day had gone and a new one had arrived. The fox woke up at the same time as he normally did and he was grateful for it. He did not like to lose precious hours of sleep. He attributed it to the anxiety he felt in finally introducing himself to Mary, and now that event had passed.

Perhaps it was something else, though. He thought about it, and did not deny that he had slept comfortably that night, having been able to lie next to his friend for a small portion of it. Indeed his sheets still smelled of Hunter, and it made him oppose his own efforts to move out of the bed. He did so anyway, willpower intact.

The wolf had left that night, and he had seen him out. It was a normal day as far as the morning was concerned, though it felt strange having the wolf's scent around. It was faint, but it was there, and he did not really mind it. It was pacifying in a way.

He performed his morning rituals, keeping up with the constant of life, cleaning himself, eliminating all that need be eliminated, and made himself head to school. He remembered to grab his lunch on the way out of the house, still prepared as it normally was by his mother, of which had her absence.

The walk to school seemed shorter. It was possible that he felt it was shorter from how he now felt about it: it was a location in which he would see Hunter again, and he looked forward to it, yet it was also a center for boredom and anxiety, as he was still very nervous around Mary. He wondered if he would see her this day, but figured he would not. He was out of her way as far as classes went, and during lunch, she seemed busy.

Maybe the wolf would speak to her about him. He would mention his name is Roger, he would say such wonderful things, such bolstering phrases that made him seem righteous and saintly, or perhaps he would tell the truth, which seemed much more mundane. Though, he might give mention of the things they had done, and maybe Mary might think it was odd, as Roger already felt it was.

But no, he had mentioned to the wolf to keep such things betwixt themselves. No undue rumors were to spread for something so undeserving of contemplation, certainly if their connotation happened to be negative. No, the fire would not spread when there was no spark.

It was still a school day and he would see the wolf regardless, whether it be during class or after. It was the deal that had been struck, a binding contract between the educational establishment and them, upheld only by their integrity and desire for learning. At least that's what Roger would have said when questioned, but he knew it was for other reasons that he continued; he could not let the wolf take the fall when it was so unnecessary, and for such an angelic being to plummet would be a tragedy.

He laughed to himself at such a thing. It was ridiculous, of course. The worst that would happen if he did not help was that wolf would do poorly, but he seemed to have the study habits of late to help create an environment of success. No, they enjoyed each other's company, that was the truth behind it. How far did that enjoyment go, though? He knew his own desires were to be questioned, but what of the wolf?

Roger had never had trouble reading a book or another, yet when it came to the wolf, it may as well have been in an alien language. He had not encountered such a thing prior, and surely he assured himself that he would never again encounter such a being. He was unsure of whether or not it was a blessing or curse.

There was the school, vacant as per usual at this time of the morning. There was the classroom, just as barren, though the teacher had arrived already. He took his seat. He was the first one.

The skunk had managed to speak to him a moment before the class started about events that had unfolded and were to unfold, mostly academic. They went over the future material and it turned out that Roger already knew all of the material that would have been covered. It seemed the skunk was unsurprised, though.

He gave him extra materials from a class he would take in the future. He began to find things he had little knowledge of, and it interested him. He began to study it until the class started. He stopped, but the skunk urged him to continue his studies. What use is his class, he had told him, if he did not learn in it? He warned the fox, though, to avoid leaving the wolf behind. The pursuit of knowledge was invaluable, but worthless when the suffering of others was the result. Roger nodded in agreement.

Hunter had been there and greeted him. It was the usual, cheerful wolf that he began to grow accustomed to. Indeed, he seemed to be shy and downtrodden at first, but now he seemed to be happy. Roger hoped that he had contributed in such glee that the wolf felt, but he knew it could have been any number of things; it was in the wolf's nature.

Just as quickly as class started had it ended. Roger felt himself floating through the day, not really quite in his classes as he was merely physically. His mind kept wandering, thinking of the future, attempting to ordain what may come but it was elusive and foggy. It was the eel in the darkness; he grasped and felt, but it evaded and escaped at every attempt.

Another class and it felt just as useless. Nothing came of the time he spent in them aside from wasting another hour of his life. Still, it gave him the chance to meditate on what had yet to come and the guidance of his teacher's words. What had the skunk said?

It was straightforward and yet not so. Cryptic, but was it meant to be? Perhaps that was merely the way he spoke normally, but it was odd. Did he know? He was a learned individual, surely, but learned of what?

He could not possibly know and Roger shook off any thoughts of any clairvoyance the skunk magically had. It was clear, as was a pearl.

He did not see Hunter at lunch. He did not think he would; he rarely ever did. He also did not see Mary, which was odd. He usually at least saw her pass by, but perhaps she was busy that day. Similarly, she could have been avoiding him, and he made sure to consider it as a possibility, as in this game everything could have been possible.

He spoke to his friends in few words, abstract and concise. They did not really pay much heed to his mental anguish, nor should they have.

It was there, the answer in front of him, and he pursued it.

What was he following? What was he searching for? He began to doubt. He began to forget what he even sought, but there it was. It began less of an idea, less of an ideal, less of a thought. It was a feeling. It gripped him and adhered, it stuck and twisted and wringed him, it forced his thoughts and his hand, it tore his walls and busted his bunker of security he hid in, but to what he was exposed was a force unbeknownst to him. Verily was the intrinsic search a stranger in the crowd, yet it was this stranger that he sought to know.

His heart was a flutter, the butterflies in his stomach creating a hurricane.