FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

"Do tell more about these... Sightings." Said a handsome man to the pudgy barkeep.

Adela awoke. The light was golden, the sun barely above the hillsides. It was twilight. The girl lifted herself off of the dead leaves and grasses of autumn. It was still a bit chilly out. The 'queen' took a few moments to recollect. She walked calmly about the half dead trees. They were kin to her; dead outside but not quite within. They gave themselves to fate just as she, and despite all of their preparations for the winter, they still clung to the hope that it would never come. That the world would stop. The leaves crunched to her steps. They, too, surrendered. Adela stopped at a river.

"Well, sir... There are rumors of some sort of animal roaming around here. Stalking on our game reserves, plucking bushes clean of berries, and some other nonsense."

Adela stared at her watery reflection. She wore the same olive drab robe the past few days to her sleep. Her blonde hair had grown frizzy, and unruly. Her lips were stained by red; rose hips. Her fur had grown to cover her entire body in silky white. The fuzz even crept up to her neck. Reaching into one of the robe pockets, she removed the razor. Gently, she began to rid her tender neck of the invasive hair. Adela had become better at shaving these past days. Her condition hadn't worsened much. At least her face was intact.

"How would you describe her appearance, my good man?" Asked the inquisitive stranger.

Adela washed off her face. The water of the stream was still frigid. She grinned at her reflection. The girl had managed to only cut herself once this time. Next, she let the blade run over the rest of herself, with utmost zen and dedication as she great deals of her hair, using only a small blade. She then strided back over to her resting spot, taking a pair of moccasins from atop a tree stump. She had crafted them from part of her worn robe. Slipping them on, they now covered her tracks, as well as disguised her... Deformity. The girl walked east, close to a town. Time to enter civilization. The bartender gave a tilt of his brow.

"To be honest, no one's really seen 'her'. Just odd footprints. Some say it's white."

A young woman entered the bar. Weariness was on her oval face, a tightened robe of olive drab on her figure. The small bartender waved obliviously. The other man was not fooled. Though the handsome stranger wore a commoner's garb, loose shirt and trousers tightened by a belt, it was clear he was not of here. The male stood taller than any of the short and compact men of this woodstown, which was obvious despite the fact he sat. His body was slim, effeminate. Curls of blonde framed his 'pretty' face. He was only a couple years older than the girl, and showed it. Though she didn't. She walked to the owner's counter.

"Do you know of a route to Halenzia Castle?" Asked the beggar woman.

"The closest path takes about three days. In a hurry, miss?"

"You could not be more correct. May you please show me the way, or provide directions...?"

"Beats me. I do know that the trail is winding, and passes through the Bassetal mountain range."

The stranger raised a hand. "I could be of assistance as a guide. I am quite the traveller."

The woman's eyes lit up, for once. "Really? I wouldn't wish to be a burden... And I haven't much to compensate you with."

"I was already heading in the direction, of course. You needn't pay me a single grain."

The stranger stood from his seat, and gingerly clasped the woman's hand in his own. The lady had no objection, walking at his pace. He told her of a better route than the know-nothing bartender proposed. It would require less than two days. But they would still need to make haste to arrive on time. The pair walked briskly through the town. The village was unimpressive, mere huts in comparison to Halenzia. There were no steadfast walls, ever vigilant. Nor did noble guards prowl about. The houses were small and efficient, much like Geoffrey's. He resembled the townspeople to an extent, save his height. Perhaps he was a fluke. The locals were seldom seen, though friendly; despite her raggedy appearance, she still received the ocassional wave from a stocky farmer or two. Not that she found it surprising, as she certainly thought herself more attractive than the wives she saw tending to fields and such. Not to brag.

It took only a couple of minutes for them to escape the shoddy little locale. She of course purchased more presentable rags, courtesy of Geoffrey. The shop's inventory was limited. An hour passed, and they were still travelling the dirt road. Adela looked about. The tree growth was sparse, unlike what could be said for the ancient forest she traversed but a day or two ago. Wind had swept away deceased leaves, leaving branches bare, and the trees thus appeared just as dead as those in the older forest. There was sometimes a gust of strong air, stirring up whatever few leaves remained on the ground, spiriting them away, willing or otherwise. Interrupting the fields of green and specks of golden leaves were proud northern conifers, which were beginning to grow somewhat more common. Speaking up, Adela broke an hour of silence.

"If I may inquire... Exactly what compels you to travel around here?"

"I should ask that of you. The concept of a delicate damsel wandering about in rags... Complexes and offends me."

"You are mistaken. I am far from delicate, ser..."

"Zi- Simon. You may refer to me as Simon."

"Well then, Simon. I can't help but believe I've seen you before. Are you from here?"

"I doubt we have met. I am of the village we just left: Laventown."

Adela had definitely met him before. He reminded her of a childhood friend, exactly whom is a distant memory. But she couldn't ponder on these things. They both stopped. Simon said that they would have to leave the road to continue east. He led the way, forcing them to leave the dirt path and thus traverse through thick shrub. Adela was careful not to snag her clothing. She wore a skirt and blouse with sickeningly bland colors, dull gray and brown unappealing to the eye. The blouse itself loose and the shoulders uneven, the clothing made by either someone either blind or severely underpaid. A scarf tightly wrapped around her neck, and shoes fit uncomfortably on her footpaws. The excessive coverage was necessary not only to disguise her true form,, but also since she had felt quite cold in the absence of her fuzz.

It was another hour, and they joined another dirt road. The rest of the day was unremarkable. It was spent walking at a steady pace, with the few, rare moments of respite. They walked well past dusk, eventually stopped when it had grown far too dark to see. Adela hadn't had a single bite since the town. But she gave no complaint, for that would have been expected of a 'delicate damsel'. Instead, she endured the agony, much as Simon did. He hadn't ate either, though seemed unaffected. The two stopped, Simon deciding to finally rest for the night. The young woman was relieved, especially tired. Though she appreciated his efforts in guiding them, she felt lost, and he seemed ill prepared. Adela sat, looking towards Simon who was face up, laying on the ground. He had a dreamy expression as he stared at the stars. He called Adela over. She approached, laying next to him in a similar position. What looked to be a shooting star whizzed across a moonlit sky. He pointed towards it.

"...A shooting star is not a star. True stars have order, they are fixed in position and know their purpose. If not, the glory of a constellation could not exist."

His statement was interesting, but she disagreed. "Constellations are what we perceive, not the reality of it. Stars may be fixed, but they have no real 'order', no meaning. A shooting star is true to itself. It dares not to remain fixed, fixed just to fulfill an imaginary constellation."

"Maybe, but in doing so, they will never belong. Fleeing responsibility is not noble, but foolish. It can only lead to the downfall of order." Replied Simon, the last words emphasized.

"So be it."

Adela closed her eyes. Stars were everywhere.

Then she awoke. She had grown accustomed to the cold ground, thus awaking upon it yet again had no adverse effect. Simon stood a few feet away, again with that entranced, thinker's expression. He was staring off into the distance. It took a few moments for him to notice her, upon doing so giving a nod. "I hope you enjoyed your rest. We made decent time, thus I figured letting you sleep was acceptable."

Adela sat up, knees bent and near her chest. "Many thanks for your help during the past couple of days, Simon."

Simon shrugged it off. "Again, I am obliged to serve those in need. I would also like to mention, we need only trek a few more hours before arriving at Halenzia." He approached, and she reached out a hand to meet his. He carried her hand in his, and so they voyaged. Adela felt a tinge of excitement; it wouldn't be very long until she arrived home, sorted this mess, and possibly found some manner of cure. She wondered how well her kingdom was faring, whether her people were already searching for her. That was unlikely. The peace negotiations were scheduled to consume a week, yet it had been less than that. Here she was: estranged and alone. Her best course of action was to continue avoiding attention; the people of Halenzia needn't see her in her terrible state.

Adela rubbed her forehead. Her thirst gave her a headache. Still, her starvation was quelled by the dried rations they had traded with a vagrant merchant. The salted jerky parched her, but what little flavor wasn't masked by sodium was nonetheless exquisite. The man had little change, so all he had given back were a few coppers. She specified no silver coins. The rest of their quiet march felt endless, though near nightfall it came to a close. They had arrived at a strange town, one unlike any she had never seen before, though that was unsurprising as she rarely left the castle before. Never had she seen a place so gorgeous in the moon's light. Spires and towers of pure white marble loomed above polished stone floor. There were staircases everywhere, some of granite or marble and, towards the lower floors, wood. It was a city of climbs and towers, some reaching higher than any cathedrals she had ever seen. The lower homes were of brick, and towards the top were marble abodes which protruded from the larger spires, above the measly brick huts. She realized where she was, having seen portaits of this land before. This was Vesut, city of the north.

The young lady was dumbfounded. Vesut was several days north of Halenzia as well as Castrillia. The only way this could have been possible is if they had been travelling northwards all along. Not to mention, Vesut was even more westwards than Laventown. Adela remained, mouth agape, eyes wandering about the conifers that framed the northern city of traders. A large gate of ivory framed the entrance, open. Simon began to head inside.

"I will admit, I lost your trail as you bolted out of the woodsman's house. As fate would have it, I nonetheless found you at Laventown."

Taking the woman by the hand, he urged her along to the town. "I am impressed by the fact you lasted among the woods. Scavenging, hunting, you truly have the blood of our ancestors. Now, come with me. Our carriage to Castrillia will be here by midnight. We will arrive faster by horseback."

"W-what? I said we would travel to Halenzia. What is the meaning of all of this?"

"Simple. We wouldn't wish to be tardy for our ceremony, would we, Princess Adela?"

The female's eyes lit up. She backed away to his approaches. "How do you... Oh my... You're Prince Zivon!"

Zivon nodded. "Correct. Until now, I haven't seen you in over a decade, darling."

All of it made sense now. "Mirabel sent you... To capture me."

He nodded. "Not simply to capture, but to wed. No less than royalty such as yourself would be suitable for Mirabel's precious son. And my, what a fine decision she made."

"I will never betroth the son of a monster! You and your mother have manipulated me for long enough."

"In truth, you, too are a monster. We are all. Have you yet to realize this?"

Adela denied it. It was something she would never admit. "I am not at all like you. I have values, principles. You are simply liars!"

"Your entire life is a lie. You are not a human, nor were you ever."

His response confused her. Zivon continued to approach. Adela was forced against a cool, marble wall. He pet her hair. "There is still time until the carriages arrive to whisk us away to our new lives. Perhaps we should consumate early? I am certain you would enjoy."

Adela struggled. It cannot end like this. She would never be used as a tool, especially not in that way, not ever again. She kicked and clawed, it having minimal effect on him. His only reply was a taunt. "You are so very resistant. Would you prefer if I sat you in my lap, and bit your shoulder?" He gave a girlish, mocking giggle to his own proposition. His hands caressed her, hands snaking underneath her bra, his lips pressing to hers. She could not bear it. Anger, confusion, despair, and even lust coursed through her. He had an unnatural strength, not unlike his mother, managing to keep the young lady immobilized, the cupping at the tender flesh of her bosoms becoming more pronounced. He could barely repress his enthusiasm, choosing to roll Adela's blouse upwards. Her bare breasts were exposed to the mercy of the night's wind, fuzz having reappeared on her bust during the past couple of days.

Agonizing pain began to afflict her face. Zivon began to lap at each bud, alternating every few slurps. Her pink tips were hardened the instant they had felt the fall's air, which he took advantage of, beginning to nudge especially at one nipple while tweaking the other. Eventually tiring of this, he let go, sliding down her abdomen, dragging her skirt along with. Her emotions boiled within, trapped just as she was. It was not so much a mixture of right and wrong sensations; It felt completely wrong, yet, arousing. Then she felt a pleasant sensation she was so familiar with. It was so strong that it suppressed the aches of her nose and head. It easily bested Mirabel's fingers, and even her own, which she had been experimenting with as of late. Zivon was tonguing deep within her, the slippery tongue doing so with ease. Warm liquid began to splatter against her neck. Zivon worked faster, wiping across her heated inner walls. He placed his palms at her hips, gripping softly, one hand grasping at her tail and giving tough yanks.

Adela felt an increasing moisture, not just due to the man's tongue, but her own lubrication. The feelings were now truly irresistable. She could have escaped right there, likely have kicked Zivon's face in. But did not. There was a certain shame to it; a weakness of hers being exploited, one she never knew she had until recently. Yet, there was a feral side to her, one that craved this satisfaction far more than any bid for freedom. There was no thought process now. Just desire. He began to slow, allowing his tongue to delve more shallowly, wanting to prolong this. Adela felt the moist muscle lap across her labia at an agonizingly pleasant pace, from the tip of her clitoris, down the slit, and towards the base of her tail, only to return. More hot lava began to gush onto her neck. She was so close to her climax, so faint. Never had she felt so dizzy, so hot despite the frigid temperature of this late night of autumn. Adela cupped her mouth, trying to mask her newfound moaning, her hands becoming reddened. It felt as if she were dying, suddenly becoming cold now. Her vision became blurry, and suddenly she felt his perverted caresses cease. She felt her claws mindlessly tearing at flesh, and saw a flabberghasted man flee. The pain she felt won over. Her nose began to crackle as she collapsed, lying against frozen marble. She came.