FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Part 1

The vast carpet of trees spread on for as far as the eye could see and the hybrid's eyes could see very far indeed. Some yellowed leaves mottled with red still clung to broad branches, but this was a battle they would soon lose as winter slowly descended. This land had gentle rolling hills, strong rivers and streams and valleys that held plentiful prey. Yogoloth felt both comforted and slightly overwhelmed here.

This was a wild and untamed land that lay far from the civilised places to the south, no humans or otherwise had ever ventured this far. Even by wing it had taken a little over two weeks to reach, by foot it would have been impossible. It was even quite distant from the main dragon territories to the west. Yogoloth's mother had spent decades seeking somewhere to settle down, live her life and raise her young.

Dragons felt no burning need to rush things like the civilised races did. They lived for hundreds of years and even then, no dragon had ever been known to actually die of old age. But after maybe 800 years or so, they became tired and an already solitary species became even more so. Until one day their lair is found abandoned and they are never seen again. Yogoloth's own mother had been only 550 years old when her young hybrid son had decided to fly the nest. That had only been thirty years or so ago and he still remembered her fondly, even if her lair held bad memories.

Winter had been threatening its first snow for days now and the hybrid felt that the time had come. The air had turned still and chilled further, the thick white sky, that had been looming over the land for days, seemed ready and Yogoloth could smell something on the air. He had arrived in his mother's territory a few days earlier and had avoided her lair initially. He had seen no other dragons in that time and the young hybrid had spent those days hunting, sleeping and not thinking about where he was. But now, as the first tiny flakes of snow began to fall, he took to the air and headed to the cave system where he had been hatched.

He suddenly felt very lonely as he closed his eye membranes against the wind and snow. This place, even in winter, had seemed so alive when he was younger. There had been a comforting familiarity here, the little streams he would drink from, the rocky perches he used to bask on, the migration routes he often stalked when hungry. But now he did not feel welcome here. As though the land had taken offense to the dragon who left, and who now dared to return... again.

His journey here had not been entirely unpleasant though. He had decided to keep his magical disguise intact, his hide brown like his mane, horns shrunken and fore legs and snout coloured yellow like a gryphons talons and beak. He had met two gryphons on his travels, one had seen him in the distance and had changed course to meet him. Yogoloth looked just like a pure gryphon from a distance and only once the other young male got closer had he recognised the hybrid as something else. As expected, he turned to fly away without saying a word.

'You flew over here for a reason!', Yogoloth had called out in the common gryphon tongue he knew. 'I'm not some infectious animal! Spit it out!'

Keeping his distance, the young gryphon had asked about nearby colonies. He had left his own weeks ago to seek out a new home and hopefully a mate. Yogoloth had seen one such colony from a distance days before and knew of another from his youth. The youngster had been both surprised and grateful before flying off in the direction of one of the colonies. It was always possible that he would in future tell the story of the hybrid who had pointed him in the direction of his beloved life mate. Maybe a tiny seed of tolerance had been sewn that day.

The other had been hunting in the forest below only a couple of days before he had reached his mother's territory. She had stared up from a rocky cliff in confusion and even a little fear at the strange hybrid as he flew nearby. Yogoloth had tipped a wing in her direction as winged creatures often did as a friendly acknowledgement of each other. She hadn't reacted nor reciprocated. It had annoyed him slightly as he continued on his way. Perhaps his imperfect disguise was a little too close for comfort for some.

He had even met a large dragoness recently too. She had been very quick to point out the edges of her territory and gave a very detailed account of what happened to the last visitor who hadn't kept to them. It had been a close enough call without having so much of his magic tied up in his disguise. If she had decided to blast him out of the sky with fire, there wouldn't have been anything he could have done. He may or may not have been still alive as his charred body was crushed by the ground. Thankfully, dragons really didn't enjoy the feeling of using their fire breath and she let him leave peacefully.

She had been younger than his mother, probably about 350 years old or so. With rounder scales, shorter horns and a slightly dark mottled pattern to her wing membranes. Although very different in age and looks, her appearance along the route between the civilised lands and his mother's lair had forced him to think about her disappearance. It had been fifteen years or so since he returned to find her lair abandoned. Fifteen years since his dragonic instincts had nearly consumed him.

Part 2

A particularly rocky set of hills slowly grew closer with each steady beat of Yogoloth's feathery wings. He knew those cliffs and grassy slopes very well and his heart beat a little quicker in his chest. Partly from nerves, wondering if this plan was going to work at all, but also partly from all the memories this place held for him. Most were good memories, those from his early childhood, but the most recent were not so fond at all.

He circled above one particularly rocky hill and gave out a gentle roar. It was not an aggressive noise nor was it loud enough to carry on the air for miles like a true roar. This was a friendly 'I'm here', that would be heard by anyone in the caves below. It probably wouldn't penetrate to the lowest chamber, but it was enough for now. After a minute of circling, there was no reply nor any signs of movement. The young hybrid pulled in his wings a little and began to descend.

His hind legs touched down on the mossy cliff first then his fore legs followed. A small cloud of dust and dirt surrounded his paws for a moment as he peered into the darkness of the nearby cave. He kept his wings outstretched, ready to leap into the air if needed. But for a few moments, all that moved were a few flakes of snow that began to settle on his feathers and his body panting slightly from his flight. Stretching out his magical senses Yogoloth could feel nothing beyond the darkness, but this was a mineral rich hill which limited the range of such things. His mother had chosen it partly for that exact reason.

Yogoloth suddenly shook the snow gathering in his mane and also on his wings and folded them against his flanks. The snow was getting heavier, so he had plenty of time before it was likely to stop. The young hybrid considered the cave for a moment. He shook his slightly scaly head, bared his teeth and forced himself to enter the silent depths of his mother's old lair.

"Hello!", the young hybrid called out in High Wurm. The darkness claimed the greeting like a dragon might claim an elk. There was nothing returned as the hybrid's eyes adjusted to the lower light levels in the first cavern.

This was the uppermost cavern of the lair, there were four main chambers and a couple of smaller areas not suitable for a dragon to do anything but crawl in. This one had two exits to the outside world, the larger one that Yogoloth had entered through and another smaller one that had a shear drop. It took a bit of skill and practice to enter through that way and the young dragon hadn't wanted to startle or anger any inhabitant more than he already might be. There were no signs of recent activity so he moved down a half hidden slope to the next chamber.

This cavern was much smaller, enough for a dragon to turn around in, but little else. Here were a small collection of stalagmites and stalactites, Yogoloth had never found out if they had formed naturally or his mother had encouraged them. She had carved a run off nearby that allowed any water entering the upper chamber to drain away underground instead of flooding down into the lower half of her lair. Yogoloth had no idea where the water ended up, but in the nearly forty years he'd lived here, he never once remembered any flooding below this chamber. He slowly stepped over the lichen coated rocks and descended further into the lair.

This was the lowest chamber and also the largest, the final was slightly higher and also very well hidden. This was the first chamber where Yogoloth's keen sight was reduced to monotone greys. There was so little light here that it took a moment for him to confirm what he'd already sensed, there was no one here and no signs of recent activity. His heart felt a little heavy as he padded slowly over to a shallow, circular pit near the back of the room. This was where he and his brothers' and sisters' eggs had been brooded over. This was where he alone had hatched.

Yogoloth gently ran his paw pad over the smooth stone of the abandoned nest before turning away towards the back of the room. He reached out his magical senses towards an area of wall and sensed nothing. The young dragon smiled, even after all these years, he still couldn't sense the magic there and even more remarkably, it was clearly still intact.

Without being reinforced periodically by its creator, or another entrusted with the right shapes, magic left behind would slowly fail and unravel after a few years at best. But even though it had been decades since Yogoloth had last reinforced these shapes, they were still strong and undetectable. The hybrid didn't even know how to make undetectable magic, let alone make it so efficient to last so long. What could have happened to such a powerful dragoness?

Yogoloth turned away from the wall to a pile of rocks nearby and grasped one tightly in his fore paws. He rolled it out of a hollow that had held it in place and rested it against another. In the darkness he couldn't see it, but his left paw felt inside the shallow pit that the rock had covered, and snuggly fit into a subtle paw shaped set of grooves. The hybrid formed the required shape in his head and released it through his paw into the cold rock.

The shape itself had no magical effect, it was just a made up shape that triggered the magic that was hidden in the wall, very much like a key in a lock. Silently the wall shifted and warped, the magic that sealed the secret chamber becoming temporarily inert and soon there was a narrow tunnel leading slightly up. Yogoloth quickly replaced the rock that hid the paw shaped grooves and entered the slightly blue tinted tunnel.

The subtle glow came from a kind of rare lichen that his mother had encouraged to grow in this final chamber. She had wanted to have this chamber fully illuminated at all times without magic. The cavern was large enough for a dragon to spread his wings but only barely. It was small, secure and well hidden. Yogoloth always wondered how long it would take another dragon to find this chamber after his mother's lair was claimed. This was where his mother had kept her centuries old hoard.

Part 3

Apart from the glow of the lichen on the walls and ceiling, there was nothing in this chamber anymore. Yogoloth had divided his mother's hoard up and moved it many years ago, once he'd realised she wasn't coming back. Every now and then, the young hybrid would be reminded of his strong gryphon instincts or his strong dragon instincts. Roughly fifteen years ago he had learned of two more such instincts.

There came a time in every dragon and gryphon's life that they felt the urge to fly the nest and set out on their own. The majority give in to this urge and leave to seek out their place in the world. For dragons, the reason is to grow strong, gain more skills and finally find some territory to live out your days. Dragons generally accept that they will probably never see the parent that raised them ever again.

For gryphons, it is to seek out another colony and find a mate to settle down with. If they cannot find a suitable colony, eventually gryphons feel the urge to return to the colony where they were born and settle there. More often than not, another gryphon will visit that colony and they will settle down together. Colonies therefore get fresh blood, foreign news and interesting customs with each new settler, some gryphons have been known to travel for months if not longer until they either find a colony or feel the pull back home.

Yogoloth flew the nest early and never had any hope of settling down in a colony. Gryphons would never allow a hybrid to join them. So he kept travelling until years later he suddenly felt the burning need to return home. At first he ignored it, it was not the way of dragons to visit their parent again. Not that they would not be sociable, but a dragon's territory was his or her own. It was a respectful thing not overstay your welcome or intrude on any dragon's territory, even your parent's.

But even the strongest of dragons cannot fight something they do not understand, so Yogoloth had set off to return to his mother's territory. But the once comforting lair had been cold and empty. His mother was gone with no signs of what happened to her. At first he thought she might have moved on, after his father left and then he had done too, perhaps the lair did not feel the same. It was not unheard of for a dragon to move lairs, but it was unheard of for a dragon to abandon their hoard. His mother was too young to vanish the way the most ancient of dragons did, so what had happened to her?

The young hybrid had settled on his mother's hoard and brooded. He had no home to go to and now no home to return to. Yogoloth felt lost and alone with nothing and no one to comfort him except the ever so shiny precious metals, jewels and beautiful objects around him. At first he convinced himself that he was guarding the hoard until his mother's return. But his mood had gradually darkened until he only left the lair to hunt, and soon, he started hunting less than he needed to. He even lost interest in flying.

He had grown thin and even more feral, until one morning he found an injured bird. It had accidentally flown into the upper cavern of the lair and had injured itself against the rocky walls. It had probably been trying to evade a hawk or some other bird of prey and fled in a panic into the dragon's lair. Yogoloth stared down at the bird and realised how foolish he was being. Unlike the bird, he could leave and take to the air when ever he liked, and he quite liked the idea of that right now. He had broken free of the powerful hoarding instinct that some dragons fall prey to when they are young and instead he took to the air.

Yogoloth had spent the next few months hunting and rebuilding his strength. He also gradually divided up the hoard and created hidden caches in the wilderness. He even brought a number of gems and jewellery back to the civilised areas. Marrus had been able to turn them to a large amount of coin that had become another cache of its own. He would never again put himself in that situation again, hoards were a danger he was not willing to face a second time.

Now the chamber held only bad memories, and soon Yogoloth would either have more bad memories to add to them or he could banish them for good. The young hybrid looked down at his broad chest and the pack that was held there. He had all but forgotten about the harness he was wearing, it was an excellent fit and the last few weeks had allowed him to become very familiar with the way it felt against his hide and mane. Having to remove it every night and then climb back into it every morning was a bit of a pain though.

Although the pack's buckles were quite tricky for his paws to open, the harness itself had larger buckles that he could open and close with ease. So the young hybrid detached the pack from his harness, popped open one of the buckles with a claw and simply tipped the pack out onto the rocky floor. Yogoloth put the pack to one side and then checked that he had everything, yet again. A short but sharp knife, a piece of flint, a small wooden box and a large slightly broken feather.

Yogoloth took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. It was time.

Part 4

In the quiet blue glow of his mother's secret hoard chamber, Yogoloth tried to keep his nerves under control. He carefully took up the large brown feather in his paws and turned it over a couple of times. Reaching out his magical senses he found the intricate shape resting in the feather. The magic here had been close to unravelling when he had found it amongst the other treasures in the hoard. It kept the feather free from dirt, parasites and decay. His mother had put great value on this to keep it so safe and secure. It was one of his father's feathers then.

Yogoloth had worried initially that it could be from his mother's little-big brother. The gryphon that his mother had grown up with and had been raised as part of the same brood. But the hybrid had found a number of such feathers in the hoard all together, one of them had been black. She had never described her adopted gryphon brother as having any black feathers. The young dragon carefully unravelled the magic in the feather and slowly broke it up into small pieces with his paws. The remains of the feather fell into a pile on the rocky floor.

"Of the body, that is lasting.", he spoke aloud. He had been told the words were not necessary, but he spoke them anyway.

Next he took the short knife and held it awkwardly between the claws on one paw. Without an opposable thumb like the civilised races had, nor dexterous talons like a true gryphon, Yogoloth couldn't exactly wield the knife. But he could hold it tight enough for the purpose in mind. He would have rather used his claws or teeth for this task, but he was wary of contaminating the ritual and a knife wound would be cleaner anyway. He dug the knife into the flesh of his other fore leg and hissed at the pain as blood began to fall upon the feather.

"Life's blood, fresh and flowing.", he said between his teeth.

He slowly licked at the wound as he watched his blood soak into the pieces of feather, the deep crimson blending in with the brown in a pleasing combination. Yogoloth's mind was suddenly taken back to when the remains of his own feathers were caked in his blood, the memory was distracting and unwelcome so he quickly pushed it away.

The young dragon stopped cleaning the thin cut and opened the box. It was full of tinder and he quickly picked up the flint. He could easily use magic to create fire, but he had been told that the less magic you use for the ritual, the better the chances of success. He'd had little practice creating fire this way before, so he was no expert. So Yogoloth just decided to set light to the whole box of tinder and started striking the flint against the knife edge. It did not take long before the light wood fibres caught a spark and began to burn hungrily.

Carefully picking up a piece of blood splattered feather he placed it above the flames and it too soon caught light. He quickly put it back with the others and spent a few moments making sure that the whole pile of loose bits of feather caught. The flames produced a strange smelling smoke, burnt feathers were never going to be a pleasant smell for the feathery winged hybrid. Yogoloth's heart had been strangely calm up to this point, now it picked up pace once more as he took a short breath, moved his head toward the smoke and whispered.

"Farasuun."

The smoke parted as the dragon's breath mixed in and the effect was almost immediate. Although the smoke itself did not react as such, shapes began to appear in the swirling cloud of burnt feather and blood. Lined in silver, they turned and flowed like oil in water until they began to join together in ever more complex patterns. It was strange for Yogoloth to see such shapes with his eyes rather than in his mind through his magical senses. But there was something familiar about them, something that made him wonder how purely magical shapes could even be seen without magic. He instinctively reached out his magical senses and as expected, found nothing. What ever this was, it was not magic.

The silvery shapes slowly came together and finally a single pattern appeared. A signature that every living creature had, whether they knew it or not. Yogoloth quickly committed it to memory, a skill that had been heavily practiced throughout his life. They were unique, and could only be shared by the one who owned it. The first thing a hatching dragon learns in magic is how to share their signature with their parent. But being able to find someone's signature like this? How did the reptilian tribe even know how to do this? How had his mother not even known?

The smoke cleared, the flames began to die out and the young hybrid smiled. He now knew his father's unique signature. His father might not have been blessed with magic of his own, but it mattered not. Yogoloth picked up the satchel he'd discarded earlier in his jaws and padded out of the chamber. He quickly made his way to the uppermost chamber of his mother's old lair and blinked as the light from outside became brighter.

The snow was still lightly falling and the cliff outside was coated with a soft blanket of white. The young dragon's paw pads barely felt the chill of the snow as he came out into the daylight and dropped the leather satchel down on the ground. Yogoloth reached inside himself and found the shapes that formed his disguise, unravelled them and gave his body a few seconds to return to its natural form. He took all the magic he had at his disposal, his own reverses, the magic recovered from the disguise and the small fire opal in one of the pockets of the satchel. He carefully formed two shapes of magic, one wrapped around the other.

The magic would travel thousands upon thousands of miles to seek the owner of the signature he had only just discovered. If he was still alive, the trace would tell Yogoloth where is father was.

Part 5

The magical trace sat in the air for the briefest of moments. To Yogoloth it was like an eternity, waiting for it to either unravel or vanish. If the magical trace unravelled, then it would mean that the signature no longer existed, it would mean that his father was dead. If it vanished, then he was alive, and the magic was seeking him out. But what if it just sat there in the air, like traces on his mother did? He had no idea what that even meant.

In a sudden moment, the shape vanished.

The young hybrid let out a huge breath and felt his snout form a grin. His father was alive somewhere in the world. The shape he had formed would find him, unravel and then release the second inner shape which would in turn return to him, revealing his father's rough distance and direction. He would take to the air, seek him out and as he became less certain of where to go, he would release another trace to get a better fix. Natanii had done the same to him, it worked well. Not being a dragon meant his father probably wouldn't even notice the trace at all.

The trace could take minutes if his father was nearby, or hours if he was many thousands of miles away. So Yogoloth backed up into the mouth of the cave and settled on his belly with his head resting on his paws. It wasn't easy, it seemed to him as though every fibre of his body wanted him to leap into the air and fly and roar until he ached all over. Sitting here doing nothing was the last thing he wanted.

Although the trace would return to him where ever he went, Yogoloth had to remind himself that he was in a potentially dangerous area. Dragons take decades to mature and it could be decades more before a young dragon happens upon his mother's old territory and decides to claim it for themselves. Or there could be a dragon out there now, scouting for a home, all tooth and claw, ready to fight for these fine hunting grounds. The young hybrid didn't want to take any chances, he doubted Natanii had the power to trace him over this distance, let alone get here in time to save him... again.

The time passed quickly, as it did for dragons and the snow fall began to thin. This first snow fall had not been heavy, but it was cold and the trees and rocky cliffs were left coated in a light frosting. Winters were very cold this far north, Yogoloth remembered them from his childhood with mixed feelings. His mother had always been able to hunt enough prey for the two of them if need be. But there were times when neither of them could fly for days. He knew this snow fall was merely the first wave of much more severe weather to come.

The young hybrid would rather not be stuck here, unable to fly large distances, until spring thawed out the land and released him from its icy grip. He could handle the cold, fly great distances, dodge hostile dragons and hunt well enough in unknown territory. But to do all four, every day, for weeks? He wasn't stupid. He'd rather be done with it and get back to warmer, familiar grounds.

Yogoloth suddenly stood up on all fours and padded outside. The cloud cover was still quite thick, but he could just about tell where the sun was. The young hybrid frowned, it had been five or six hours since he released the trace, time had already begun to darken the sky and rebuild his magical reserves and still no response. He'd never had a trace take this long before, his father must be very far away indeed. He slowly furrowed his brows. What was the maximum range of his trace? He'd never even considered it before.

He knew if he wanted to, he could trace Natanii from here, he wouldn't even need to be at full strength. But she was only a couple of weeks flight away at most. If his father had travelled vast distances, many thousands of miles, months of flight time, the trace might not make it. The shape would unravel before it even reached its target and he'd never get a response. Suddenly Yogoloth desperately wanted to know the maximum range of his trace, to know how much area he had just covered. But there was no way of knowing for sure. Surely it would cover all the places he'd ever visited?

A couple more hours passed, the air began to chill and the sky darkened even further. The approaching night seemed to perfectly reflect the feeling in the young hybrid's heart and his mood respectively. The trace wasn't coming back. He'd done everything right and everything he could do, he had done. But he failed anyway.

Yogoloth had always wanted more magic, to be like his mother. She had been so skilled and powerful, but deep down he knew he would never be even remotely her equal. The average dragon at Yogoloth's age would already have two or three times as much power and his mother had been well above average for a dragon of her age. He would never find his father now.

He turned away from the approaching night and entered the even darker cave. He knew the way without needing to looking up, so many times he'd travelled this path when he was younger. In many ways, being here in this cave brought back a kind of distant comfort. Shielded by the hard stone, wrapped up tight in darkness, not even the strongest storm could reach him. He entered the sleeping chamber and settled in the shallow, roughly circular dip that was the nest he had been hatched in. He curled up, resting his tail on his paws and his chin on top on that. This place was probably the closest he would ever get to his parents ever again.

Part 6

It was early morning and the sun had slowly risen above the horizon. The sky was still thick with white cloud and the only clue to the sun's position was that one half of the sky was brighter than the other. The air was cold and still, those creatures of the forest who hadn't either hibernated or migrated had yet to rouse themselves from their slumber. Snow hung heavily on tree branches and any other surface it could reach.

In the eternal dark of a deep cavern a large shape began to stir in its sleep. Consciousness slowly returned to Yogoloth's mind as he gradually stretched his limbs out across the cold stone floor. He lay partially on his side and his four paws met along the ground as he flexed his claws. Grudgingly, his limbs obeyed his command and the dragon hybrid climbed to his feet and slowly spread his wings. A yawn quickly spread his jaws too, his purple tongue curling up in his maw as his many sharp teeth exposed themselves.

He opened his eyes and frowned for a moment before remembering where he was. Yogoloth didn't often sleep in caves, there was something comforting about sleeping under the stars, or at least in sight of them. So waking up in such thick darkness was a little disorientating. Not being able to see if it was even day forced him to judge the time by feel alone. It felt like he'd had a good night's sleep and it had been getting dark as he'd settled down, so it must be early morning or so. He suddenly remembered a dream. He chuckled to himself.

With everything going on in his life right now, his unconscious mind decided to have a dream about a tree. Well, lots of trees actually, but one of them was important in some way. Yogoloth struggled briefly to recall the details as they faded from his mind. Why did dreams do that? Tempt you with some minor details and then snatch the rest away just as you reach out to grasp them. Had he been the tree? He laughed, the sound echoing in the dark of the cavern. He'd dreamt that he was a tree. Well, he was green and brown.

His laughter died down as quickly as it had come and the young dragon licked his snout a couple of times. He remembered why he was here and slowly shook his head. Nothing was ever simple, but he was closer than ever before. He stepped out of the shallow dip that formed the old nest and his paws felt the cold of the rock for the first time that morning. It was not as cold in his mother's lair as it was outside. The rock had always retained at least a little of the previous day's meager warmth.

He shook his ears and padded out of the cavern. As he made his way towards the surface, the light became stronger and the temperature dropped noticeably. The feral hybrid had slept outside in colder, more miserable weather than this, so it didn't bother him too much. Although he certainly enjoyed the warmer summer months far more. Yogoloth reached the well lit upper chamber and a cool wind blew in from one entrance and then out through the other. It ruffled his feathers briefly and he suddenly felt the urge to preen.

The wind wasn't too strong once he got outside and stopped on the cliff outside the lair. Yogoloth wondered if it could still be called a lair if no one lived there anymore and soon decided it didn't really matter. It would always be his mother's lair to him. As the hybrid spread his wings and his eyes began to study the feathers, he wondered what his next step would be. By reflex he formed the magical shapes that allowed him to oil his feathers and began to work on them with his teeth and tongue.

He could try again from the area around Stone Haven. If for some reason his father was far to the south, he might be in range from there. He tugged at a particularly stubborn feather and it fell into line with the rest. Natanii would probably help boost the range if he asked her. Yogoloth was sure she would, she did say she'd help any way she could. The young hybrid moved over to his other wing and smiled at the thought. He suddenly really wanted to see Natanii again. It was an unusual feeling for a dragon, but he really missed talking to people. Of course, he was half gryphon, and he went through phases of one extreme then the other then back again.

Yogoloth finished his very quick preening session and looked out across the snowy vista. It was time to leave, the sooner he was back in warmer lands, the sooner he could see Natanii and continue searching for his father. The hybrid spread his wings wide and gave them an experimental pump before launching himself into the air. The cold wind made him shiver slightly as he tucked his legs up under himself and smiled. Natanii's furry body was also very warm to snuggle up against.