FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

"Are you serious? You want me to go there, alone?" Tyver asked in dismay.

"Of course I'm serious, why do you ask? A big strong otter like you, scared of getting hurt?" Ganment retorted. He had only known the otter a short time, but he was already an expert at rubbing their fur the wrong way. He saw the annoyed flick of the otter's tail as they left without another word.

"Fuck him, fuck him!" Tyver was spitting his words onto the ground as he stared at his bare feet taking steps down the forest path. "Fuck him..."

It wasn't that he was scared of where he was going. He just didn't understand how the badger could be so casual about sending him out alone. It would be so easy to run away, he could disappear, like he had so many times before. Town to town, country to country, new name for each one. He had done it so many times he almost couldn't recall if Tyver was his original name, it was his favourite one though. How the badger had known the name before he had a chance to give a fake one caused the otter to shudder. Even if he did run away, somehow the badger would know.

A paw idly went up to his neck and fiddled with the dragon leather collar he was wearing, it was the first thing the badger had given him, to replace the standard slave collar he was forced to wear by the guards. His neck and wrist were still tender to the touch from where the stocks had rubbed them raw. He wondered if the marks would scar. His finger traced the soft ridges of scale until it came to rest on the softly glowing gem sitting just under his adam's apple. Probably some sort of tracking enchantment, Tyver figured that's the reason why the badger could be so comfortable letting him out unaccompanied.

A growl roused him from contemplation, on the path in front of him was some type of troll something, he never really cared much about learning from the bestiary. Most monsters were regional and he was always travelling. He sighed and pulled out his dagger, preparing for the worst.

Tyver was sitting on a tree stump cleaning blood from his knife. For such an intimidating thing, it really didn't put up much of a fight. He looked over at the body, it was disappointing really. He laid his bag on the ground and pulled out the bit of bread he had been given by his new owner. The word owner brought a sour taste to his mouth, but the bread brought a sweet taste. Some type of honey must have been baked into it, he found the small loaf was quickly devoured, leaving him wanting for more. He re-read the note the badger had given him about the materials required and how to collect them as he took small sips of water from his canteen. By the time he stood up, the troll was gone, its magical essence dissolving and dispersing into the surrounding area. He didn't understand why monster bodies did that, but it made clean up easier, so he never questioned it.

Tyver was getting closer to his destination, the hard dirt under his toes started getting to get softer, wetter, he felt his feet sink a little into the earth with each step and he slowed his pace slightly to avoid tripping on the now slippery mud. The mire was in view now. He groaned as the mud was now deep enough to rise up to his ankle with every step, he was going to need a bath after this trek, and he cursed Ganment under his breath for causing his fur to get this dirty. He hitched his robe up to his knees and made his way towards the nearest tree, experimentally tugging at a low branch to see if it was rotted. Satisfied by the result he undid his robe tie and slung it and his pack on the branch to prevent them from hitting the mud. It wasn't elegant, but the otter preferred his solutions simple. He kept pushing forward until the mud started to thin. He was up to his waist now, pushing aside reeds and shuddering at the wet squelching under his feet as he struggled to make headway deeper into the water.

Soon he hit the sweet spot, where the water was barely tickling his ribs and was barely clear enough to see the bottom. He jumped forward, causing a cloud of mud to slowly spread out in the water, but he was already long past that spot. His sleek body was already created for swimming, but he spent most of his childhood living on the coast, swimming deep out in the ocean and fighting against the harsh waves. The burning in his muscles and taste of salt on his tongue was all he craved, still water like this felt like he was swimming through air. He slowed down when he came to the middle of the pond puddle. He inhaled as much air into his lungs as he could and let his body rest on the surface of the water as he scanned the bottom, searching for the plants he was requested to collect. He was surprised by how deep the water was once he broke past all the reeds, needing to squint for a clear view.

He saw a glimmer of yellow among all the brown and slipped beneath the water's surface, making his way towards the blotch of yellow, the closer he got, the clearer the form became. A whole patch of flowers was growing through the mud, and one of the species he needed. He picked as much as he could, filling his paws before returning to the surface with a gasp of air. Swimming back, Tyver made his way to the edge and where he had left his bag, laying the flowers on a rock in the sun to dry. He stretched up towards the sky and cracked his neck. He rubbed at the collar on his neck, he hated the feeling of it when it was wet, but from what he could tell the collar couldn't be removed. It was a solid circle, no clasp or latch, it couldn't be cut, the material was too strong for his knife to saw through when he tried. He wagered it was something about the red gem, it seemed important, and worryingly powerful. Sometimes when he laid on his bedding, he could feel it pulsing with a strange energy. It felt of fire, burning his neck, crackling electricity, that caused every muscle in his body to tense, before it pulsed a gentle coolness into his body, like clear spring water flooding his veins. Then, nothing. He tried asking Ganment what it was, but they always deflected, shrugging it off telling Tyver it was probably just his imagination.

He kept making trips out into the mire, swimming further out each time, until he had a sizable pile of ingredient laying onto of his drying rock. He even managed to snag a few fish, who were skewered on sticks, jutting from the mud around the tree, waiting on him to finish up. Tyver was getting into it, taking long hard strokes, enjoying the water rippling around his unrestrained muscles, feeling the mud washing out of his fur, not caring anymore about the muddy trek back and forth from the water. He arrived well before the sun hit its peak in the sky, now the sun was sunk about halfway to the horizon. He took one final dive under, no longer looking for anything, just swimming circles in the water, doing spins, showing off to no one in particular. If he wasn't underwater, he might have given off a laugh. A long time had passed since he felt like there wasn't some sort of threat looming over his head, he was savouring it. Sure, he may have been a slave, but he figured he could find a way out. Asides, despite the badger being aggravating as hell, they had some sort of attractive aura, and in any case, it was an upgrade from the town center stocks.

The fire was warm, the fish was fresh, his fur was disgusting. He tripped in the mud when he bent down to retrieve the skewered fish. He was honestly too tired to care by that point, and he just stuffed his robe into his pack and continued down the path naked, everything slung over his shoulder. The sky was dark, he was almost back to the cabin the badger called home, but his growling stomach had put up a solid argument to take a brief respite. He finished the final fish, wiping his paws on the cleanest patch of fur on his thigh. He kicked dirt onto the dying fire until it was covered, the embers barely glowing, he was going to kick a bit more dirt on it, but felt a smirk creep across his face when he felt nature calling.

The fire now out he finished the walk home, and when he entered the door in his dirt caked fur, Ganment scarcely recognized him.

"The hell happened to you? I asked you to go to the mire, not bring the mire back here!" Ganment lamented at the dusty pawprints being trudged through his house.

"Well I don't know how else I'd collect all the shit you wanted. 'sides, I doubt you'll be too troubled to sweep for once. I'm going for a bath." Tyver called back, not looking as he made his way towards the bathroom.

The bath was already prepared when he entered, kept at a pleasant temperature, and lightly scented with some sort of mountain flower oil it seemed. He slid into another body of water and let a soft, satisfied moan escape his lips as he scrubbed his fur, slowly working out clumps of mud. Tyver was satisfied.

Ganment growled at the disrespect of his new servant, but the growl died in his throat as he watched the muscled otter, naked, swinging his tail and idly humming as he made his way by. His breath hitched when the otter opened the door, with a final flash of what sat under the base of their tail as they closed the door. He shook his head to clear it, catching a glimpse of the hastily discarded adventurer pack at the doorway. He took a little peak inside, everything he had asked for, more than he had asked for, was sorted, dried and bundled into separate piles, tied together with little reed-grass bows. Ganment was satisfied.

It was the begging of a fortuitous relationship.