FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

It isn't difficult to spot Joanne in the parking lot. Being eight feet tall has that effect.

The forest parking lot is full of extra-large, anthro-sized vehicles, but you recognize her Porsche among the other SUVs. The she-wolf is stretching in a vacant spot next to it. Her coat is a surprise with all the fur she has. The light green number looks fancy unbuttoned, so maybe it's just for fashion -- you wouldn't know. What you do know is a hug usually follows the bright smile of recognition that's now on her face. It's happened the past couple dates.

But it's certainly more tame than what happened on your first one in the movie theater.

"Long drive?" you ask, craning your neck back as she approaches.

"Oh, not too long! It's good to stretch before a hike, Anon," the she-wolf says, stopping short. She hesitates before pulling you into her soft form. It's more gentle than normal, and her hands are only on your head. You realize why when she lets you pull back; her expression is more excitement than embarrassment or arousal.

"So, did you bring it?" she asks, tugging at one of your backpack straps.

"Well, you see, the boss said he needed something quick for his daughter's first grade recital..."

Joanne laughs, but her ears flatten. "Really, did you?"

You nod. The wolf lets you go when you move to take off your pack, leaning down a little to see. You gently pull out the little leather bag and undo the clasp; inside sits an old Pentax 1000. Her bright smile as she takes it out and examines it is infectious.

The camera had been sitting on the store shelf for as long as you can remember. You didn't pay it much mind until one of Joanne's visits while you were at work. She gushed over the old film camera for a little bit, pointing out photography features you scarcely understand. The wolf ended up buying some film canisters for her own -- but she slyly implied it would be a good starter piece.

"Did you look at the manual?" Joanne asks, handing it back to you.

"Yeah. I think I have the mechanical stuff down," you reply as you put on the leather bag, "...but I don't think I know what it means."

The wolf's smile doesn't falter. She giggles and crouches down by her own small backpack leaning against her car.

"That's okay! It's a lot to get into all at once," she says, pulling out her own camera and holding it out to you. "Here, we can use my digital one to go over things!"

Joanne turns you around to look at the visitor's center across the lot and gets down on a knee behind you. Her muzzle pokes over your shoulder, barely in the corner of your eye.

"Analogue isn't all that different from digital photography when it comes to the basics," she says. "It's all about managing the light your camera gets. You adjust it with your shutter speed, aperture, and ISO -- but for film cameras you don't have to worry about that last one."

The great wolf pauses in a hum. She shifts slightly to your side enough to meet your eye.

"What kind of film did you get?" she asks.

"Whatever was in the box," you reply with a shrug; Joanne hums with concern this time. You pop open your Pentax bag and dig around in a side pocket for her. The brightly colored canisters are filled with numbers that don't mean a whole lot to you; they look tiny in the wolf's large paw.

"There's a few more, but I think they're also just random," you add. Joanne nods as she eyes the ones you've given her.

"That's alright, we can work with these," she says, handing them back, "but we'll need to be quick! We need a good amount of light for most of them."

A warm paw wraps around your hand, pinning it to the oversized camera. The wolf wastes no time in giving you a crash course in camera operation.

"You can adjust your shutter speed with this dial here, and your aperture size with this knob," she says, pointing to number-filled protrusions. "Your Pentax has the same dial for the shutter speed, but there's a ring around the lens to adjust the aperture instead. I'll help you with the rest."

Menus flash by on screen. You only really notice the preview image changing slightly; you're much more focused on how close Joanne is. The pseudo-hug isn't tight, but you can feel her warmth against your neck. Her focus on getting the intricacies of exposure across sets your worries at ease. Getting used to her size has taken time... and her initial overly-affectionate tendencies made it harder at first.

Joanne doesn't whisper any salacious things in your ear as she points to various subjects around the lot. Her words are soft and soothing, but they're all about guiding your experimentation with the settings on her camera. Pine trees shift in saturation and contrast against the deep blue sky as you twist and adjust, birds and swaying branches turned to streaks on the screen. You're a little disheartened to hear your camera doesn't have a zoom function, but playing with the manual focus on hers assuages your concern.

You take a lot of photos of the visitor's center and the entry area to the park around you, getting a feeling for the effects of the different settings. What eludes you most are the intangible things that separate the good ones from the bad. One picture of a tree will look wallpaper-worthy while the next looks like an accident; the one you took of a few cars on a whim is better on the eyes than the one you messed with the settings for.

"It's alright, Anon," she says, releasing you. "Film photography is all about learning from mistakes. You can try doing some more on our way out!"

The wolfess bounces back to her full height with a smile, tail flicking before she crouches down to pick up her bag. You give her a nod and follow beside her when she starts off towards the visitor's center. Her hips sway near your shoulders, but they don't bump into you like on earlier outings together -- even though she's distractedly fiddling with her camera.

There's a surprising amount of traffic as you near the visitor's center. The asphalt is a rich new black, and the building ahead looks recently renovated. You wonder if that's why the passes cost 25 bucks. Anthros and humans alike mill around plaques and info boards set around the small garden of local flora. After a some meandering, you and Joanne find a small news board with a box of park maps attached to it. A flier for the night's event catches your attention -- there's a warning about minimizing light pollution in big letters.

"Okay, so we're looking for a pond," the wolfess hums, taking one of the maps and unfolding it high above your head. She glances down after a second and lowers it for you with flattening ears. "Sorry about that, Anon."

"It's okay," you say; the trails meander and criss-cross in a large loop. Blue bodies of water dot the map all over the place. "Have you been here before?" You ask.

"Yes, but not often," she says. "It's a nice park, but it is a little out of the way."

"An hour or two out of the city isn't all that bad..."

Joanne's sigh ruffles the map. "When your free time is limited, it starts to be."

"All the more reason to enjoy it while you can, right?" you say after a moment. Her smile indicates you hid your frown well enough.

"Right," she says. She points to a spot on the map; "I think this is the one we talked about -- Wildwoods pond?"

"That sounds right," you reply. "'Quiet, tranquil, and out of the way, this pond is home to several species of native aquatic plants and small fish. No boating allowed.'"

"Right, I remember the 'no boating,'" she chuckles, taking one last look before folding up the map. "Lets start off then! You'll need the light."

You're glad to see the wolf has a pep in her step as she leads the way. The early fall weather has given the trail head a vibrant archway of warm-colored leaves, hardy saplings and other plants you don't recognize dotting the background with green. The colorful canopy overhead is dulled by the evening sun as the woods start to surround you. Odd hues break through the brown where hikers take the trails.

You look down at yourself -- 'hiker' might be a little ambitious.

"Stop me when you see something you want to take a picture of," Joanne says as she walks beside you, her own camera at a low ready. "We should be able to use some of your 400 film."

"Okay, sure."

You're not entirely sure what ‘400 film’ is. Probably best not to focus on it too much -- just do what the doctor says. Her ears stand tall while her head is slightly flattened; the wolfess' eyes dart and her nose twitches. The last time you saw her like this was when you went bowling together. She's wired and focused at the same time, but her voice hardly tremored. You wonder if it’s a skill she developed in her profession.

Maybe that's why you're having a hard time yourself.

You shake your head and try to focus. No breaths, small steps. Listen to the sound of crunching leaves and swishing polyester. Somehow, despite being twice your size, Joanne's footfalls are softer. You get her paws are bare, but --

"Hold on," you say. The wolfess freezes mid-stride and her eyes flick to you. She follows your gaze down to the sun-dappled forest floor; her paw prints were impressed into the soft trail bed, and one of the depressions from her last few steps was completely lined with leaves. And it even sits in a spot of sunlight.

"Do you think that would make a good picture?" you ask.

Joanne's tone is cheerful when she responds. "Sure! Lets find a good angle."

She guides you through loading the camera with film while a few other walkers pass by. Clicking the roll into place and spooling it up is satisfying, the analogue ratchet giving you a connection to the machine. The viewfinder is clear save for a needle on the right you think measures light. Joanne steps back to let you get the best angle, beaming as the shutter cycles with a soft click.

"Don't be afraid to take a few!" she says when you move to stand. "With film, it's better to have extras. Developing it can be tricky."

You don't argue and photo the footprint a few more times. There's plenty of spare rolls in the bag after all.

"How many pictures can I take before switching?" you ask.

Joanne's eyes narrow in concentration for a second. "I'd say twenty or thirty with that roll," she replies.

"Okay... so I think I took five or si--"

The wolfess taps the top of the camera with a giggle; there's an analogue counter next to the winding spool. You chuckle, and hurry to catch back up to her.

"I should've noticed that. It's been sitting on the shelf for long enough," you say.

"No, no," Joanne coos. She's searching for her next shot as she goes on. "There are a lot of things in that store. I don't know how you'd ever be able to check all of them."

"Ehh, you get used to it. All old bits and bobs have a lot of the same things on the inside," you say. "Parts are what move the most, we track them the most. Machines like this camera or an old laptop aren't very common."

"Hmm. Why do you have them, then?"

"'Cause Ron wants them," you sigh. "From what I can tell, the retro-parts market is just a big whirlpool of old collectors selling to other old collectors. The people and places he gets his stuff from sometimes give him a good deal."

You snap a picture of a lonely sapling sprouting from a stump; there's a gap in the canopy to light its leaves, struggling to stay green.

"That, or he had one of them in the past and just wants it there in the shop," you say, ratcheting for a few more exposures. "That's why there's a Selectric typewriter priced three times more expensive than it should be sitting on the front desk."

Joanne offers a gentle hum. "Does he ever use it?" she asks as she takes a few shots of her own.

"Sometimes. He wants second-hand stuff tested every now and then for upkeep -- that's one he usually does himself."

"Is that why he hired you?"

"Something like that," you say. You advance the film slowly. The resistance from the spool is gentle, but it's there. The frame counter ponderously clicks up. You give the wolf a look before beginning to walk again.

"Anon, I -- I-I didn't press to far, did I?"

You sigh. "N-no. No, you didn't. I'm sorry if I made it feel that way," you say. The wolfess has a good sad puppy expression. It's certainly becoming more effective on you.

"...Working at some used electronics store just isn't exactly where I thought I'd end up, you know?"

Her sadness quickly changes to a mixture of sympathy and concern. "You're still young, Anon," she says, slowing her pace. "There's still time. Things haven't 'ended' for you yet -- you could go back to school if you wanted."

You grunt. "I don't want to. I didn't finish for a reason." You stop for a small stand of yellow birch trees that catch your eye, and spend a few more inches of film on it. "However working at Ron's makes me feel, I know whatever I'd get after finishing my engineering degree would be worse."

"Why's that? And how do you know?"

"Because River Valley has a good program," you say, ratcheting for one last exposure. "They make you get to know the industry early on. Interviews, internships, shadowing." The crisp autumn air fills your lungs as you take a breath, letting the camera hang on its strap once more. "The work environment just sounds awful. If you want to get anywhere, you've got to be hyper-competitive and be a dedicated ass-kisser."

A chuckle bubbles through Joanne's heavy sigh. "I know the feeling." She gives you a smile when you look up, but stares off when she starts moving again. "Medical school certainly was competitive. The real world was a little more forgiving, but not by much."

You're not sure if the gentle hip-bump is purposeful when she adds "Not much brown-nosing, though." Rewinding your roll of film and changing it out gives you an excuse to avoid finding out -- Joanne makes a small, happy noise when she notices you doing it.

"Be sure to keep that one separate from the rest," she says. "Wouldn't want to lose it!"

"Yeah... uh, which type should I use next?"

"Hmm... How close are we?" the wolf asks, pulling out the map. It takes a few moments for the two of you to figure out where you are in the maze of winding dotted lines. Searching for good pictures kept you from paying close attention to the various signs and intersections.

"Okay. You should probably use a 750 roll," Joanne says after glancing between the paper and the sky. "I think we'll have lost some light by the time we get there."

You nod, following along as she starts out on the trail again. "Alright..." you say, rummaging around in your camera bag, "...750 means...?"

"The light magenta ones -- it should say '750' right on it."

"Oh. Right."

Joanne waits until you've secured the new roll before increasing her pace. She pulls ahead a bit, actually, her fluffy tail bobbing with each large stride. No sense in doing all the stretching if she wasn't going to stretch her legs. Tight, pale slacks accentuate them as she charges up a hill with camera in hand. She pauses up top and lines up a shot.

You think you've just found yours.

Steadying the Pentax takes a moment -- you're more out of breath than you'd like to admit -- but the wolfess looks great through the viewfinder. The slight rise illuminates her and makes her green coat stand out from the fall colors around her. You manage a couple pictures before she checks what all the clicking is about.

Joanne's tail stiffens with an audible "O-oh!" while her ears twitch. The blush spreading under her fur just barely shows up in the viewfinder. The wolf stays still for your last shot.

"I think those should turn out nice," you say, trudging the rest of the way up the hill, "the light looked really good!"

Joanne chuckles. "I hope so," she says, tapping at her camera's screen before turning it to you. "Otherwise these wouldn't have companion pieces!"

You're surprised to see yourself in her pictures. The feeling grows as she scrolls further through; the shots are all candid yet good-looking. And a good number you didn't even notice her taking. The high-quality camera probably contributes some, but there's clear skill at work.

"Y-yeah, I hope so," you manage, a little stunned. You keep pace with her as she starts off again. "Those are really good, Joanne. Way better than mine."

"Oh, don't worry, Anon. It's too early to say that about yours," she hums, turning her camera off and sparing a smile. "Half the process with film is developing it. There's a lot of cool effects you can produce that digital just can't."

Her paw stops halfway between you; her stutter of restraint doesn't interrupt her stride.

"W-we could do it together, if you like," she says, looking back ahead. "I have the supplies for it at home... I don't know what stores still develop film, actually."

"Sounds like a date," you say. The wolf's tail swishes happily in the relative silence of the forest. You let it go on for a bit before asking "Why did you switch to med school?"

Joanne stutters mid-stride again. This time her pace slows. "I... I decided I liked photography and directing more as a hobby," she says, keeping her eyes forward. "They told us the best way to progress at it was practicing on our own, so I-I did! But I was already in school, so..."

She takes a quick breath, the front of her jacket rising before quickly falling.

"We had a good medical program," she says, "so I stayed."

You're getting a sense of dejavu. It's what prevents you from asking further. The autumn air is thoroughly soaked with awkwardness; you're not sure where to go from here. The wolf doesn't glance down as you continue to keep pace, and you decide to stay silent. Let nature do the talking for now.

The sound of leaves underfoot has become monotonous by the time a clearing in the canopy becomes visible ahead. The pond is out of the way, so you're not surprised you and Joanne are the only ones around. You're able to get a good view of the sun for the first time since entering the trails -- maybe too good a view. It's shining right in your eyes as the path spills out into a clearing. The trees across the pond start filtering the light as you walk a bit further with how low the sun is.

The water is still as stained glass, streaks of warm sunlight covering its surface and melding with the shadowy reflections of the forest ahead. Straw-colored grass and reeds line the water's edge. A single picnic table overlooks the whole scene along with an abandoned charcoal grill.

You don't realize you're holding your breath until Joanne suddenly jumps on you. The wolf grabs you from behind, locking your back against her soft form in an instant.

"There," she whispers in your ear, her cheek-fur warm against your ear, "you could get a really good photo of those ducks."

Only then do you notice her one hand pointing across the water. Three or four of the birds sit floating on the pond, wreathed in reflected sunlight. Joanne quickly brushes her free hand over your lips when you try to speak.

"They'll spook," she says, so low you can barely hear it. "Get your camera out, slowly."

Her hand stays on your shoulder while you do so. Her whole body is tense against you and her nose twitches at the edge of your vision. The wolfess starts to move when you have the Pentax raised; you have little choice but to move with her.

"Here -- better angle," she hums. Her legs brush against yours while you experience the most gentle and slow manhandling ever. You feel her weight and softness in equal measure when she leans into you. "Good," she whispers as she goes still, giving your shoulder a squeeze.

Her chest is warm against your back while you line up the camera; the scene looks amazing in the viewfinder. The balance between light and shadow somehow keeps the ducks' colors visible. The water below and trees above are a mystifying mix of shades warm and dark, at once discernible and otherworldly.

The mechanical click of the shutter rings out like a gunshot.

The ducks turn your way by the time you ratchet the film along again. You click off another shot before they start to fly, no doubt spooked by you and Joanne. The wolf's presence leaves you all at once when she stands and brings her own camera to bear. The digital shutter sounds no less loud above you while the birds fly away. You take a few steps to give her space; Joanne lowers the camera with a soft sigh when she's finished.

A bright grin spreads across her face as she looks down at you.

"I heard you get two of them, Anon -- Nice work! Those will look really good!" she says; her tail is wagging so hard it's shifting her coat. "It's going to look even better with that film, too! I can't wait to --"

Her ears stand up straight before lowering slowly. A blush spreads across her face along with worry.

"...U-uh, to develop it," she finishes. She clasps one of her wrists a little awkwardly. "Sorry if I was a bit forceful. I-I just -- saw the ducks, and wanted you t-to have a chance."

You're not sure if it's the sun or your own blush that's making your face so warm. All you know is it gets hotter when you tentatively reach up and touch her paw. Watching her ice-blue eyes go wide makes you smile.

"I-it's alright, Joanne," you say. "I probably wouldn't have gotten the shot if you didn't. So, uh... thank you."

The wolfess puts a hand over yours. She smiles, though the blush doesn't go away. A few twitches across her muzzle tell you she's searching for the right words and struggling to find them -- just like you. She steps away after a few moments, still beaming.

"So... do you want to pull out your toys?" she asks.

"Y-yeah! Sure," you reply. "Just need a minute."

Joanne follows you to the picnic table, where you unsling your backpack and camera bag. The old wood bends when she sits next to you, but it holds. The small boxes you pull out don't stress it nearly as much.

"Since I thought it'd be getting dark, I picked ones with lots of lights," you say, opening the lids of the larger two containers. Internally, you sigh with relief; the RC boat and plane are still in one piece. They should be -- you paid out the ass for these cases -- but fitting them in your bag was awkward.

"Wow..." Joanne hums, leaning in for a better look. "And you made these yourself?"

"Kind of. These are what you'd call 'kitbashes'," you reply, taking out the boat and running your finger along a seam. "This one has elements from I think three different models in it. I took the hull from an OxiMarine model someone was selling, since they're really good but not cheap; the upper housing is from a Horizon PT-8 since they're practically model kits; and the internals are all from a ProBoat racer kit."

You flick the switch and watch the LED strips you added light up as the boat comes into standby mode with a chirp.

"The plane is kind of the same," you say, pulling it out. "I wanted a Synergy model, but no one makes them. So I used a Voltair EADS shell as a base and added a few things --" the plane chirps when you bring it to life, rows of lights turning on along the angular double-box tails -- "Including those."

Joanne hesitantly takes the boat into her huge paws, inspecting it carefully. "These are impressive, Anon," she says, "I think you could take some nice shots of them with a slightly slower film."

"Film has speeds?"

"Yes, it does," the wolf says. She sets down the vehicle while you get out the controllers. "Film speed is how much light it needs to get a proper image -- the ISO number on the box tells you that, which you use to set the light meter on your camera." She reaches over and taps one of the dials on your Pentax.

"After you've used the rest of this 700 roll, you could try switching to a lower speed," she says. "The photos won't be as detailed, but if you adjust the shutter speed you can get cool motion effects with all the light!"

"Sure. I'll try it," you say, holding the larger controller out to her. "But first, we've got to get them in motion."

Joanne's eyes widen for a moment as she's pulled from her hobby into yours. "O-oh, Anon, I -- I don't know if that's a good idea," she says, her ears lowering in embarrassment. "I... think I should just take pictures. These seem very important to you. I-I don't want to damage them."

"Yeah, they are," you admit, "but I made them to get used. It's alright -- I even dug up this extra big controller for you."

The pink beneath the wolf's fur only deepens. "O-okay," she says, and takes the boxy device. "I only want to do the boat, though."

You nod. Joanne follows closely when you gather your things and bring them to the water's edge, listening attentively while you explain the controls and pair the vehicles with the transmitters. The function tests all thankfully go without a hitch. You have to take off your gloves to put the boat in -- you'd rather not have the cold water soaking them.

"Alright, give it a little throttle," you say, watching the boat slowly glide forward.

Joanne gently squeezes the trigger; the little boat jumps forward with the sound of a submerged blender. The wolf makes a small noise of surprise as she lets off and watches it cut through the glassy water.

"That's quick!" she giggles.

"Yep. High-performance internals," you say; you don't tell her the transmitter is set on a low-power profile. You watch as the wolf gets used to navigating the waters, sending ripples across the pond. She manages to kick up a pretty good wake that sends the vehicle bouncing on cross-cuts.

Joanne is so entranced she hardly notices when you raise the Pentax. You take it and her smile as good signs. She glances over when the shutter clicks, and continues zipping around the pond with a giggle.

"I'll try to slow it down for you," she says, banking close by. "Remember to play with the shutter speed!"

You twist some knobs and dials. The results will show up in the developed photos, you suppose. You put the camera back in its bag when the roll is finished and switch over to the Synergy. Joanne's eyes dart over when you start it up, the electric motors coming on with a high pitched whine. You launch the little plane out over the water with a dart-throw; it catches itself like it always does and begins its slow ascent like a bumble bee.

You sit back on the grass while it climbs. The ground is cold, but you don't much care. The green and red lights you put along the tail shine bright in the darkening sky, flashing in turn when you throw it into a corkscrew. Swooping down low over the water draws a worried whine from the wolf, then a happy sigh when the plane evens out just above the surface.

At some point, Joanne sits down next to you. Her tail wraps partway around your back. You lose track of it just like the time. The two of you spend what feel like hours there together, zooming across the water and taking pictures. The words between you are short. Compliments, questions, comments; all are about the moment, the here and now. Nothing about the past, the future, or any awkwardness from before.

It's a pretty great date -- but it's not over yet.

As you fly the Synergy about the setting sun, and Joanne races around its reflection below, both of you realize it's time to go.

"We should probably head back to the visitor's center," she says, pulling away; the lack of her weight feels strange for a few moments.

"Y-yeah, right," you agree. "Lets put these away."

The boat pulls in much quicker than the Synergy. Joanne brings it right up onto shore with a quick burst of throttle, just like you showed her. As you set the plane up for one last glide, the silhouette of it against the sun catches your eye. The past few hours of impromptu photography lessons kick in.

"Joanne, here," you say; you keep your eyes locked on the incoming plane while holding the transmitter out to her. "Keep it steady -- I think I can get a really good shot of it coming in."

The wolf makes her worry audible. "Anon, are you sure?"

"Yes. Don't worry, she's slow and stable -- just keep the throttle even."

Her fur brushes against your bare hands during the transfer. The feeling lingers a little while you raise the Pentax and get the plane into frame. The unusual shape of the Synergy's double-box tail stands out against the deep orange of the setting sun, filtered by trees. The shadow of the plane is slightly illuminated by the port and starboard lights, making it a different kind of dark than the backdrop behind it. The glossy miniature cockpit catches their glow.

You take the pictures with steady hands, almost too many. The camera bounces against your jacket when you drop it to catch the miniature plane. It fights you for just a second before Joanne takes her finger off the trigger; then the engines go quiet, leaving only the quiet, high-pitched babbling of the receiver.

"Nice work, Joanne," you say, switching the plane off, "That was a good landing!"

"R-really? You looked like you almost fell over!"

"I might've been trying to take too many pictures..." you reply, walking towards the cases. You look up when the wolf doesn't respond and find a cheerful expression and a wagging tail.

You note with some concern that the tail is easier to make out than her face. Light's fading fast.

"Joanne, could you change my film for me?" you ask, unslinging your camera bag, "This will probably be the last roll no matter what."

"Of course!"

You pack up the RC stuff while the wolfess gingerly rewinds your film and picks out a new roll from the bag. The shadows around the two of you grown long; you pull out your map to memorize the route back.

"All set," Joanne says. She goes to hand you the camera, but pauses when she sees you squinting at the glossy paper. "Can you see, Anon?"

"Yeah, I'll be fine. Good to go?"

"Yes, but -- Anon, are you sure you don't need a light?" she asks, digging into a coat pocket. "I brought one, just in case."

"No, I'll be fine," you repeat. "Besides, they put up a warning about light pollution. If they catch us with a flashlight, I don't know if they'll let us in."

You can make out the look of surprised worry on her face, at least.

"I'll just be letting my eyes adjust early," you say. "Come on -- you don't want to miss it, right?"

Joanne gives you a nonverbal, noncommittal reply, but follows when you head back to the dirt path. Turning away from the sun reveals just how dark the sky has gotten. The scene above you is an inversion of the past hour or so; leaves and canopy turned a uniform orange from the setting sun hide a purple sky beyond, practically black.

You'd take a picture if you weren't in a hurry.

The sight doesn't last long, the woods descending into darkness when you go down a hill. Light doesn't reach down to the forest floor. The leaves' glow barely illuminates their trunks. The air's autumn chill makes itself known as you and Joanne descend further into the woods and further into the dark.

Looking up or catching a glance of the sun's dying rays overhead makes it difficult for your eyes to adjust. At the same time, the shrinking light makes the shadows grow deeper. The path ahead becomes indistinct, and nearby tree trunks look flat. The details of it all are lost.

But Joanne's presence is constant. Her beautiful light fur stands out in the gloom, her bobbing tail like a friendly will o' wisp. Her footfalls help you find her when she pulls ahead, though never too far. She checks with you for directions whenever there's a split. You've never been afraid of the dark -- or afraid of the woods -- but you can't deny her being here gives you comfort.

Especially as you start to work by feel.

The forest is hilly and the clearings are sparse. Hardly any sunlight is filtering through now, and even the canopy above isn't always lit. The hooks of cryptid stories and urban legends nibble at the back of your brainstem as your world shrinks. You can barely see your hands; your footsteps and Joanne's echo strangely through the air; the air smells of the cold and wet.

"Are you sure this is the way, Anon?" Joanne asks.

"It should be," you reply, "I know the route -- w-we should be coming up on a crossing with a few other lines soon."

"Which do we take?"

"The red."

There's a quiet whine of concern. "You need to be able to see it, Anon," the wolfess says.

"Don't worry, Joanne, I can see just --"

You splutter as you bump into something soft and get a facefull of wool.

"...Alright, maybe I can't," you sigh. The wolfess huffs in the dark and puts a hand on your shoulder.

"We're at the crossing, at least," she says; she keeps her hand tight on your shoulder, the thigh-brushes not incidental. You suppose you deserve it. "Which do we take," she asks: "red, yellow, or green?"

A shudder crawls down your spine.

"There shouldn't be a green line," you say, "are you sure it says that?"

"Y-yes, it's red, yellow, and green. We followed the yellow line to get here."

You swear under your breath. "Then we made a wrong turn," you sigh. It was probably a junction or two back. Shame and disappointment fill your heart.

"Sorry, Joanne. We've probably lost too much time, now," you say. "We may as well stop here, see if we can see it through the trees."

Joanne is very still next to you. You can't see her or hear her, but the tension radiating off her is palpable. You pray not all of it is your fault.

"Anon," she asks, her voice just as still, "do you know what way we need to go?"

"I-if we just follow the red south, it should bring us back around."

"Okay."

You're suddenly weightless for a brief moment, swept off your feet.

"Hang on," Joanne says; you can feel her voice rumble against your side, and the soft mass you're being pressed into becomes recognizable. You don't argue as the wolf starts to run with you in her arms. You're too stunned.

Air whips past your ears and the whole world bounces in time with her steps. The rhythm of her muscles against you gives her shape in the dark, giving your senses some reference point. Being bridal-carried down the winding paths should bring those uncomfortable feelings from before -- the ones that nearly ruined your first date.

But it doesn't.

Her hold instead brings exhilaration and security. Her arms are strong, holding you tight to her chest where a great warmth lays. The contrast between her jacket and the soft shirt beneath is clear even through your own clothes. It presses against you in time with her breaths, just starting to get heavy. You can feel her heartbeat somewhere beneath the softness of her chest. As your own heart slows its thudding, you realize how tightly you're clutching her shoulder. How much you appreciate the warmth.

You squeeze gently and sigh.

Getting bridal-carried through the woods all alone by the big, bad wolf is better than being carried like a sack of potatoes, you suppose.

You greet the open night sky with joy. Joanne's paws clack on asphalt when the forest canopy fades away, signaling your return to the parking lot.

"Almost there," she pants. Her pace slows for a moment before she lurches in a new direction. You slowly make out the outline of the visitor's center against the stars. Things on the ground are still shadows for you, but you can make out the dim constellations across the sky. You're glad the she-wolf doesn't have the same issue; you're jostled this way and that as she navigates the garden and makes her way around to the back.

The gentle murmuring of a crowd suggests you made it in time. Shadowy forms crowd the overlook behind the building, right where the poster said to meet. Joanne's chest heaves against your side when she finally comes to a stop. Heat radiates off her neck, and you're sure the panting she's struggling to control is putting off steam in the crisp night air.

Her face stands out in the gloom. Your eyes have adjusted enough to make out her furry features -- and it fills you with a strange warmth. You've always liked Joanne's appearance, no matter how much you've denied yourself to keep things slow, but you think it's just hit you now how attractive she is. Her muzzle is sleek, her fur orderly save a few spots where tufts have come undone. It reveals a different woman than the sweet, cautious doctor you first met. Someone focused, physical, and caring in a different way.

You think you see stars when she looks down at you, a word on her lips.

The dull gasp of the crowd draws her attention; the two of you look to the sky. Streaks of light race above the overlook to hushed oohs and aahs. It's the first meteor shower you've ever seen, and it doesn't disappoint. Yellows, whites, and blues glow high above you, one after the other. Joanne doesn't notice while you shift in her arms. Then you realize you're still in her grasp right in the middle of the crowd.

You stifle a sigh; everyone's attention is elsewhere anyway.

It all lasts maybe a minute or two before the streaks cease, petering out like the last kernels of popcorn. A member of the park staff thanks everyone for coming, but announces the park will be closed to visitors in another half-half hour. The murmurs of the crowd around you grow in volume as the lights slowly flicker back to life. Joanne lets out a happy sigh, her breath finally back as people disperse around you.

"That was very pretty! It's another experience seeing it in person," she says, looking down at you. "It's too bad I couldn't take pic --"

The she-wolf's eyes suddenly go wide and her face bright red. "Oh!" she chirps before letting you down, "Oh, s-sorry, A-Anon. I-I didn't realize I was still holding you. Sheesh, and I got all sweaty from the run..."

She tugs at her clothes self-consciously while you try not to blush.

"I didn't mind," you say; your eyes bug out the same time as hers when you realize what you just said. "I-I mean I didn't feel it! I didn't feel, uh, that."

Joanne manages a small chuckle. "Well, I-I do. I should probably be getting home."

"R-right."

The wolfess offers her arm to you with a pat of her thigh, and you obediently lean into her side. The ease of it strikes you as arm drapes across your shoulders -- but the gentle warmth of the wolf's side keeps any concerns you have at bay. The two of you make your way out into the parking lot.

"Do you want to hold onto the film?" you ask.

"I could if you like," Joanne replies. "It will be a good reminder to check my schedule."

You hum in agreement. Her shifting hips slow as the lights to her Porsche come on, your car somewhere else in the dark.

"Well, I guess that's it," the she-wolf sighs. She lets you go and sands with her hands clasped low. The sad smile on her face is all too familiar. "Thank you for the date, Anon. I liked the boat -- I hope you liked taking those pictures!"

"Yeah! I did," you say. You dig around in your camera bag for a moment before just taking the whole thing off and handing it to her. "...But you can use some of the film, if you like."

Joanne's smile gets a little less sad.

"I might," she says before taking a breath, her eyes darting from yours to the asphalt. "C-could I get a, uh, goodbye hug?"

"Of course," you say; you wrap your arms around her hips and bury your face in her upper stomach, your next words muffled by her shirt. "I don't think you need to ask anymore."

A small sound of contentment escapes Joanne. It's something between a sigh and a growl. You make one of your own as she presses her paws across your shoulders and neck; hopefully her stomach swallows it. Her gentle swaying reminds you of being in her arms. The feelings -- the warmth, the softness, the grip -- they're not as complete. But you savor it nonetheless.

Probably for a little too long. Joanne is actually the one to pull away first this time, though a hand trails gently through your hair. The cold air makes you realize your face is slightly damp; your blush deepens.

"I'll see you later, Anon," Joanne says with a small wave.

"Talk to you soon," you reply.

The wolfess smiles before turning away, getting into her SUV. You cross the lot to your own vehicle. The interior is cold. You sit there for a moment in the dark and let out a sigh, closing your eyes. The bouncing motion of your jog with Joanne rocks through you like phantom waves after a long day at the beach. You'll probably be feeling it the whole way home -- maybe even when you get home.

...You should've taken her up on driving together.