FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

With each new step, the stone walls grew taller, peeking father and farther over the fields of wheat and barley. Alden, the capital of the western province, was just a little farther. Randall could already smell warmth of the wolf clustered streets. He could see the pups playing in the dirt, no doubt making their mothers furious. Merchants rambling on about their wares, hoping to sell their stock for more than it was worth. Everyday wolves talking and enjoying the day with a bit of gossip on the side. Compared to his home town, the city seemed like a dream. Sometimes he wondered what it was like, living there each day. So full of bustle and energy. It must have been better than a creaky wooden excuse for a house, the kind he knew well, but wished he didn't. It had to be better than being alone. Everything smelled amazing, perfect, and endless, like the hazy scent that lingered after a warm bath in the springs; the smell of fresh fur. But there was another scent. It was so subtle and brief in his muzzle that he almost missed it. Windflowers.

That's strange. They didn't grow here in the fall. But there was no mistaking that aroma, it smelled just like... Lana. No, he must have been imagining it, after all, he only had a few hours of sleep. And the days walk to the capital only added to his fatigue. It couldn't be real. Maybe he needed a bit of rest. That would set his mind straight.

An invisible force of wind brushed against Randall's fur as it passed. His two sheathed blades danced at his side with off beat clatters and clangs. The sound was so weak against the gust, like a cry for help never to be heard. A plea that would go unanswered. A promise left unkept. It was mocking him.

All it took was a single, large stomp to freeze Randall in the middle of the dirt path, a mere eyesight away from his goal, the city, emerging over the horizon with thick walls of stone. It had a brick pattern, painted a shining grey a few calendars ago, but now the finish was cracked and chipped. Ivy conquered the wall's side with splotches of green here and there, only adding to its broken-down appearance.

Randall wrinkled his snout, forced his eyes closed, and let a unsatisfying breath escape his muzzle. He wouldn't let Lana down, it wasn't an option. His paw clung to his waist: hard. He wouldn't let this happen again, let another loved one die for no good reason. It did more than make him upset, it pissed him off.

Something warm drooled down his waist, hiding behind his leather greaves. Great, more blood. He hadn't realized his grasp had been so tight. This sort of thing happened so often, at this point, it was a stale act. He knew that hurting himself didn't help anything, but it was the only relief he could find. It was just more unneeded pain, pain that always followed him like a guardian angel gone sour. And he hated the taste.

With a slight shake of the head, sending his fur into a silent frenzy of brown, Randall continued his pace towards the capital.

"It does not do justice to blame yourself." A familiar voice murmured from his waist. The words were calm.

For a second time, Randall froze, only now, his attention focused on the sheathed, black blade saddled against his left hip. He did nothing but give the sword a harsh stare for a few seconds, before he looked back up and walked away from nothing, continuing on the path. His gaze stayed fixed on the city ahead. It was hard to make out, but Randall squinted to see the broad entrance, an abrupt opening in the wall's side with two watch towers on each side. It seemed out of place, so far away, yet so close. Finally, he decided to respond.

"I know well it is not my fault, and I know the enemy."

Randall said to the blade without looking down. His grey eyes still scoped the city, trying to stay distracted.

"Yet you only further pain yourself because of the past, and now the present?"

The sword asked, even though he already knew the answer.

Randall cracked his knuckles."It is my burden to bear, and mine alone. I don't need sympathy, Salvos."

The black blade felt cold against his waist now; it was a bitter frost that managed to eat through his leather padded greaves and leave the skin beneath his fur numb.

"Your loneliness is a choice, a pain you have become an addict of..."

Salvos trailed off. Maybe he could feel the tension in the air. Or maybe he noticed Randall clenching his paw again. Even in weapon form, most of his senses remained. Or at least, that's what Randall thought. He continued.

"I'm not sure what is going on here, but you must feel it too. Something about this scheme has me confused."

Randall lowered his chin to face the blade. His muzzle still flared in anger.

"You are right, Salvos, if those scumbags wanted money so badly, they could have easily gone after a noble that had strayed too far from the east."

"There must be more to this tournament than we were informed." The sword replied, "Perhaps there is a second prize, something they want more than money."

Randall slowed his pace while he thought. There was only one thing stronger than money: power. But power was too vague for comfort.

"What if," The blade began, "the prize was an artifact, or a weapon? Something with magic properties?"

It felt like a boulder rolled over his mind and left it flat. Of course! He knew what the prize must be. But if that was true, it meant hell. Randall didn't know what would happen if that kind of power ended up in the wrong wolf's paws.

"It's one of the spirit blades, it must be."

Salvos was silent for a while as Randall approached the gates of Alden, the fertile city, the capital of the Western province.

"I hope you are wrong." Was all the blade said before falling back into his usual silence, taking a long awaited rest after the day's journey. Randall took this time to burst from his thoughts and take in his surrounding.

The sun was a gentle semi-circle of orange light, sinking lower behind the horizon. It sank slowly, and if you watched it set, you wouldn't even notice it moving. It's progress was slow, but inevitable. To his left, a small attempt at a cabin sat in the field of crop, just a hundred or so strides shy of the city walls. A poor farmer's home by the look of it. Directly in front of Randall was the end of the day's long journey. The entrance to the city. Two large wolves stood at attention in front of the opening. Both had black fur, suited in some of the finest silver armor Randall had seen. Nobles. On their chests, their breastplates bore the insignia of the Southern tribe: the sun. The wicked and fiery kind. Much different from the modest ball of light that glowed overhead.

Randall glanced back and forth between the two guards as he neared the entrance. There were no guards his last visit to the capital, but that was calendars ago. The policy must have changed. The guards must be for extra protection. Monster sightings were more common these days, they must not want anything bad creeping into the city.

He took a final step forward, only a paw's reach from his goal, from entering the city. One step closer to Lana. He could already feel the warmth radiating from the tavern's fireplace in his mind, making a place so far from home feel comfy. And the allure of the soft beds nearly had him drooling. He couldn't wait to have a well deserved rest.

As if it was planned in silence, the two guards both side stepped in unison, landing right in Randall's path. Their blades had left their sheaths, ready for confrontation. The guard to the left shifted his torso to face him. His expression was stern, eyes unblinking. The wolf spoke.

"I'm sorry, the capital is under high alert, no foreigners are permitted to enter."

Randall let out a low breath, holding his anger to the side for the moment. Getting pissed at guards wouldn't do him any good. He knew that from experience, and had the scars to prove it. Still, the brown wolf stood his ground. Randall was taller than both of them by a few finger widths. Ever since he was a pup, he had been taller than most other wolves. Sometimes it was a gift, other times it was a curse.

"I'm here for the competition."

He said with his fangs held tightly together, trying to sound polite, but leaving a hint of violence in his words.

The armor plated duo shared a brief glance before turning back to him. The guard on the right spoke out this time, louder than before.

"All competitors have been checked in. I suggest you leave now while we are still on proper terms."

A fire rose inside of Randall, but not the warm kind. It was the raging hot kind, the kind that consumed all the air and life around it. A fire hungry for a fight. Randall peeked down towards his waist and at Salvos. The blade had gone cold for the second time. He gripped its hilt tight enough to end the life of a newborn with ease. All he had to do was unsheath it, then they would pay for their stupidity. But the hilt turned into ice, leaving his paw empty and without feeling.

Damn that blade! Randall knew he could beat those cocky sacks of fur. Fine, he would do things the old way. Even without magic, he was one hell of a fighter. Thirty years of monster hunting wasn't just for fun. His paw shifted to his other blade, made of ordinary steel. A sick smirk formed in the corner of his muzzle, baring a few fangs in his excitement.

"If you do this, you won't be able to save her." Salvos said from his waist, still bitterly cold against his leg.

Randall paused, his eyes grew wide, and his smirk faded into nothing. He tore his claws away from the steel blade like it was poison. No, he couldn't mess this up. She was more important than winning a fight. A fight he only wanted to win so he could make himself feel better. In one smooth motion, Randall planted his heel into the dirt path, whirled around, and walked away. Leaving behind the two guards and their self-righteously smiling faces.

The sun had already set. It disappeared so fast that Randall didn't notice. Now, it was just gone. Just like Lana. One moment she was there, lively as ever, cooking whatever came of the days hunt, and cracking a few jokes. And before he knew it, she was gone. Just gone.

Randall walked farther into the night. The guards were watching each of his movements, sharing a laugh or two. He could feel it. Not that he cared. They weren't important. Nobody really was. All that mattered was getting into that city before time ran out.