FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Kirtok steeled himself as he stepped into the Peaceful Pegasus. It had been a long week and he was comforted to hear the overhead bell jingle as the door opened. The room was empty save for one person who instantly received his ire. Doren sat lazily on the stool, picking between his teeth with his fork. He stopped and looked at the minotaur for a second before going back to the task at hand. It took a few seconds longer for him to realize who Kirtok was, and he snapped to his feet.

"Look who's back, and about five pounds lighter," Doren sneered. "Didn't think you'd have the guts to run from the Wolves, an' I didn't think ya were stupid enough to come back." He stroked his chin thoughtfully. "Just how did ya manage to escape? Seems dad went ahead an' took ya horns. Surprised he didn't take ya skin off. Ya'd make a find set of armor, cow."

Kirtok glared, but held his tongue. He didn't want to get baited into a pointless argument with Doren. He wanted the man gone as quickly as possible. He cleared the rage boiling up from within him and spoke.

"Your father and I came to... an agreement," Kirtok said with a disatisfied snort. It was hardly an agreement, but if it meant that he would leave him and the rest of Mullead alone, all the better. Kirtok could handle losing his horns if it meant the safety of the people here. "I'm not returning to the Ebonwolves."

"I ain't falling for that, friend," Doren replied, his face splitting with a self-satisfied grin. "Guessing ya didn't value the old lady's life after all."

Kirtok stiffened briefly at the thinly veiled threat, but allowed himself to relax. With a huff, the minotaur stepped aside and allowed Cale to step forward. The man looked far more confident to be stepping up to Doren compared to the last time Kirtok saw the two together, but that might have been because he was there to pull him out of the fire this time if anything happened. Funny how some muscle backing a person could change a man's disposition.

"It's time to go home, Doren," Cale said, handing a sealed missive over to the man. Doren glared at the parchment, and seemed ready to slap it out of Cale's hand until he saw the wax seal over the edge. "We've been in Mullead long enough."

Kirtok wasn't worried about what was actually written on the paper. He watched with satisfaction as Doren broke the seal and read the letter from his father. His eyes scanned the paper, and his brow furrowed as he read on.

Cale had made sure that Conor hadn't written anything scrupulous, and the minotaur appreciated that the man had gone that far to insure his freedom. He may have been afraid to stand up to Conor before, but this was perhaps a change for the better for the Ebonwolves. There was little benefit to be gained by mindlessly following someone like Conor, and the fact that things could have been a hundred times worse than they turned out proved that.

"Is this some kinda trick?" Doren sneered as he crumpled up the paper. "Dad would never write something like this."

"It's his writing, isn't it?" Kirtok asked. Doren grumbled something in response, and that was enough of a confirmation for him. "Then get going. If you don't believe me, go talk to your damn master back in Swifthaven."

"The ride home's on me," Cale said to Doren, as if to try and sway him more.

Doren hesitated only a few seconds more before he ambled off the stool and stomped off. He'd come in with little to no equipment when he and his goons had attacked the inn, and he didn't seem to be leaving with much, either. As he brushed past Kirtok, he mumbled an insult in knorian that

he only half understood before he left the Pegasus.

"I won't forget this, cow," Doren said.

"Please do," Kirtok said, not turning to address him. "Otherwise I'll be grinding my axe on your skull."

When the door was shut, Kirtok nodded to Cale. "Thanks for your help these last few days."

"No problem. Hopefully this isn't the last time we meet," Cale said.

"It probably is. It's for the best. For everyone involved."

"Aye, you're probably right." Cale moved to leave, and uttered a final goodbye as he left.

Kirtok was left alone in an empty inn. It was the first time in a long time that he had seen the Pegasus without any customers. It was rare, but perhaps Doren's presence had something to do with it. Only Elsa would know, and Kirtok called out to her, knowing that she was likely hiding in the back and listening to the conversation with Doren.

She looked the same as when Kirtok left, and he was grateful for that. Her body was unmarred by scarring or any signs that Doren had done anything besides keep her up and run her ragged. Her hair was frizzy and disheveled, and though there were bags under her eyes, her face lit up when she looked at me. There was only a brief moment of surprise when she saw the minotaur's horns, but she didn't ask about them as she crossed the room and wrapped her arms around his midsection.

There wasn't any exchange of words. Kirtok felt her body relax in my arms. His hands stroked and smoothed out her hair, and though he wasn't sure what compelled me to do that, Elsa uttered no complaints. She was just happy that he was back.

When Elsa finally pulled away, she gave one more sad look at the top of Kirtok's head. He could feel his face flush, waiting to hear what she had to say. The trip back to Mullead had been embarrassing enough with all the stares from other minotaur that he encountered, but those had been nameless individuals that he would likely never see again. Elsa's eyes, though holding no judgment, felt as though they were examining Kirtok for some meaning to my mutilation.

He opened his mouth to speak, but she cut him off when she said, "We'll have to talk to a smithy about having some replacement horns crafted."

That was all she said. There was no question, nor a suggestion about what Kirtok should do. Rather, Elsa expected him to get fake horns grafted onto the stubs that were there. He initially thought that such a thing would anger him, but he was instead touched by her kindness and concern for his own well being. A gifted smith could make a prosthetic look like horn caps instead, and no one would have to know that they were fake.

Kirtok nodded his head in agreement, and she patted him on the arm. "Welcome home, Kirtok."

"It's good to be home," he replied, setting his pack behind the counter. The tavern was left in disarray since Kirtok had left, and it was about time he got to cleaning up Doren's mess. Once that was done, he would finally be able to put all the ugliness behind him.

This is a better alternative to buying my old farm back, he thought. The Peaceful Pegasus is my home now, and I won't trade it for anything in the world.