FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

It was late afternoon when Tom finally decided to begin his descent. He had spent a wonderful summer day trying a new mountaineering route and using the opportunity of the higher ground to have some conversations on his hand-held HAM radio set. He looked down on his watch again. 6:30pm, yes, definitely time to get going or he would not make it to his car before nightfall. So Tom clipped his radio to the side of his backpack and started his way back.

He was about 20 minutes away from his car when he suddenly heard another radio operator calling out to all listeners to watch to the south of the horizon, as there was something strange happening. Tom groaned. Every single time something extraordinary was going on he was out of reach. His vision was blocked by the thick forest around him. A few moments later the frequency was already full with hastened chatter. Some of the voices even sounded scared. Tom didn't know what to think as he heard the garbled descriptions from the others. They spoke of a strange black jet, flying much too low, that was burning, and losing height constantly, but barely had the realization formed in his mind, when he heard a low hissing somewhere behind him, getting rapidly louder.

As he looked up his jaw dropped. Something huge was zooming towards him, black and winged. It became bigger and bigger, the faint fizzing was slowly growing to a roar. Tom was rooted to the spot. Just as he was about to scream it passed him, right overhead. He heard splintering trees and an instant later an enormous shock-wave lifted him clean off his feet and knocked the air out of his lungs.

Then everything went black.

After a few minutes Tom's finger twitched. He was slowly coming round. Even before he could manage to open his eyes properly he felt his head pound violently, seeing stars and feeling a sharp pain in his chest. He had to muster every bit of concentration not to pass out again. A while later he forced himself to finally open his eyes. Tom was lying face down in the soft and damp forest earth. He tried to push himself up, but was only able to stumble a few paces before collapsing against the next tree trunk, his head swimming and a strong ringing in his ears.

After a while, when the aftereffects had cleared up a bit and the first shock was over, he noticed that he was bleeding on the back of his right hand. His gaze drifted slowly up his arm and onto his right shoulder and then down again on his now almost bare chest. His shirt was torn and he had small scratches all over his arm and shoulder, but he'd been lucky. A few deeper cuts were slowly oozing blood, but none of them were bad. Right next to him was the bush he had flown right through, strips of his shirt still hanging in its brambles.

Tom's eyes fell on his backpack next and he remembered that he had a first aid kit in it. His second attempt to get to his feet failed too, but a few minutes later he managed to stagger over to it and took out a bandage and his pocket knife, cutting the cloth in three pieces. Then, with trembling hands, he bound his wounds tightly.

Now that the immediate danger had passed Tom began to take in the scene around him. It was unbelievable, the jet-thing had crashed into the ground not even 50 meters away from him. A few broken trees lined its entry path and a small crater with some fragments of black metal marked the place where it hit the ground.

Tom began to look for survivors but realized in horror that the pilot probably had been blown to smithereens by the explosion. After a while Tom finally gave up inspecting all the scattered fragments for any remains of the pilot when he heard a faint rustling of leaves overhead.

*

Looking up, Tom gasped. He saw a red parachute, entangled in the crown of a massive tree. Beneath the chute, still about 15 meters in the air, hung a black seat. Tom considered for a few moments, deciding what to do. He would have really liked to just call the emergency line and wait for help, but the pilot might be injured and need help right away.

"Hello?" Tom shouted.

"Can you hear me?"

No response.

"Hello?"

Still nothing.

"Shit!"

Tom thought about the strange coincidence that he had with him his climbing gear. The tree proved easy to scale as it had many thick branches and once Tom was level with the pilot, he carefully slid out on the nearest branch. The pilot was wearing a dark green overall and an olive green helmet with a dark visor, covering his face. Tom already noticed how small and skinny the pilot seemed. Weren't jet pilots normally a bit bigger and more brawny?

Tom secured the rope on the branch above him and threw the rest downwards. Then with another short piece of rope and a few knots he attached the pilot's harness to himself. After everything was prepared, Tom pulled out his knife again and cut the pilot loose from the seat and began to rappel down the tree carefully, making sure they didn't get entangled into other branches or brambles. It was strenuous work, crashing and breaking through the thick crown of the tree.

Tom sighed in relief when his feet touched solid ground again and freed the pilot of his harness and lowered him gently to the ground. Only now Tom noticed that the pilots overall was ripped. But what struck him, was that under the slashed overall was not skin but something black and fuzzy. The next thing that drew Tom's attention was a large dent on the pilot's helmet. He was very worried. Such a strong blow to the head could have been fatal, even with a helmet.

He immediately reached for his neck and checked the pulse. The pilot was still alive having a faint but regular heartbeat. Strange, that fuzzy stuff was also on the pilots neck, it felt a bit fluffy. Tom began to remove the helmet to check if the bump on the helmet had done much damage.

"Arghh!" Tom screamed, and fell on his backside.

After he recovered a bit from the shock, Tom looked into the pilot's face again. It was covered in short dark gray ... fur ..., well, there was no other term for it. Now that he looked at the pilot more closely he also noticed that, in fact, the pilot was female. As if in trance, Tom continued and slowly took off her helmet all the way, exposing more of her dark fur.

When he finally could see the top of her head, he just stared dumbstruck at the sight of a pair of pointed and triangular cat-ears. Even though her face was something between human and cat, he couldn't deny that she was beautiful. He gingerly felt the part of her head corresponding to the bump on the helmet and sighed, "You've had incredible luck, who ... whatever you are."

She was still unconscious, breathing slowly.

But what now? She was alive and safe for the moment. Call the emergency line and leave her here to be found? Tom was still very frightened and confused by this situation. First he was almost hit by a crashing jet, and then he rescued this ... creature. And now he needed to decide what to do with her? Should he take her with him and care for her? Probably it would be better if she got to a hospital, but would she be accepted?

No. If she was found by officials she would surely be taken to some laboratory, and maybe be treated like some sort of lab rat. Or did the government or military already know about her? Did she want to escape them?

Tom pounded the ground in frustration.

"Aw, come on. Why me?" he muttered.

After pondering his dilemma for a while, he decided that he couldn't leave her here. He strapped on his backpack, wrapped his jacket around her shoulders, and lifted her into his arms. With her head resting against his shoulder and her tail swinging from his arms he began to walk back to his car.

*

He had to walk very carefully and constantly watched around to check that he really was alone and not being spotted by someone.

He was lucky, ... at first.

Five minutes later he started to hear the noise of helicopters in the distance, growing louder. He quickly got off the path and walked a bit into the forest, hiding under the thick trees. The helicopter passed exactly over him, but the pilot didn't seem to notice.

After that Tom wanted to return to the path, but no sooner that he stepped on it he had to dash off again. He heard voices behind him. People were approaching and he just barely made it before they came in sight.

"That was close," he thought to himself and decided to stay off the path altogether, even if it meant a slower and more strenuous walk.

After a bit more than 30 minutes and two short breaks so Tom could catch his breath, they finally arrived at the small parking lot where Tom had left his car. His very old Fiat Ritmo was the only car there, as most hikers had already gone home much earlier. Night had completely fallen now.

Tom lay her gently on the back-bench of the car and checked her vital signs again. To his relief, her pulse and breathing seemed a bit stronger now. He dumped his pack in the back of the car and sat behind the steering wheel.

"Ahhh," he moaned as he just noticed how much his feet and back really were hurting from the ordeal he had just been through. With another sigh he started the engine. He had over an hour of road to cover before he finally could rest. Normally he wouldn't dare to drive in such a tired state, but he couldn't stay here.

Just as the engine jumped into life, Tom heard a frightened squeal from behind. The mysterious cat-girl had woken with a start. Tom turned his head and looked into her big green eyes for a few moments. She stared back at him, her eyes fearful and full of terror. He extended his right arm towards her hands and said soothingly

"It's all right, I won't hurt you."

He touched her lightly on her paw, but she violently jerked away from him and pressed herself deeper into the back bench. Suddenly her eyes rolled upwards and she went limp again, her head slumped back on the seat.

The rest of the journey home went by without further incidents. Tom found out that he was still so pumped up with adrenaline that he was wide awake and far from dozing off behind the steering wheel. Every now and then he glanced in the back mirror and looking at her as she wavered in and out of consciousness, and later sleep.

Now that he had more time to think, Tom wondered where she came from. Could she be an extraterrestrial? All her features looked like a mix between human and cat, so the alien theory seemed very unlikely. After a while, Tom's mind settled on the idea that she had to be some sort of genetic experiment. It seemed impossible that she originated from a random mutation.

Almost one hour later they arrived at the town where Tom lived. He had inherited a small cottage from his parents at the edge of the village as they had moved to the city a year ago.

Tom stopped the car on his parking space beside the cottage and turned off the engine and headlights. He sat in complete darkness and silence. There was nothing but the uneasy breathing of that strange creature, resting on the back bench. He watched her silhouette for a few moments in the back mirror before he sighed and got out of the car.

First Tom picked up his rucksack, unlocked the front door and dumped it right behind it. Then, returning to the car, he glanced up and down the street, checking that it was deserted. Once Tom was satisfied, he opened the back door on the left side of the car, lifted her into his arms and carried her inside and over to his bed where he lay her down gently, covering her with a blanket.

A small smile played around Tom's lips as he saw her resting, cuddled in his bed. Then, a few moments later, a wave of tiredness overcame Tom. He staggered over to the small couch and fell on it still fully clothed.

Less than a minute later he was fast asleep.