FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Adam slowly pushed the squeaky cart, laden with books, between the towering metal bookcases, periodically depositing a returned book to its rightful place on a shelf. It was a quiet Wednesday evening early in the fall semester, so the study areas situated periodically between the bookcases were mostly unoccupied, bearing only trace amounts of empty coffee cups and chip bags, which he dutifully collected and deposited in the nearest trash cans. Trace amounts of fading sunlight entered from the high-set, cobwebbed windows, shining through the dancing dust motes. Stark white lights placed at intervals in the ceiling tiles gave the university library a hospital-like glow, harsh and too-bright. Adam was a graduate student pursuing a Master’s degree in Library & Information Science, a topic of conversation that was almost always followed with “but that’s not [i]real[/i] science” from classmates heads-down in STEM studies. Was it a competitive field to enter? Yes. Would the pay be low? Absolutely. Regardless, he couldn’t imagine pursuing anything else. Walking amongst the stacks upon stacks containing tens of thousands of books, the accumulation of knowledge passed down through the centuries, he couldn’t help but feel romantic. For every topic, from art to literature to engineering to mathematics, someone had taken the time and effort to record their thoughts and expertise, which anyone could check out at anytime, captured words living once again whenever the book was opened. And with the threats of censorship and AI looming, he felt even stronger about the need for the physical written word. He was a raccoon dressed in a red striped sweater vest, brown penny loafers, and trim corduroy pants that offered space for his fluffy tail to pass through. Coworkers and classmates often joked that he dressed like an old man, but he figured that an older style fit just fine in a library containing books that were hundreds of years old. He stopped the cart, pausing to wipe his brow and catch his breath. He was thin as a rake, and often overheard jokes that a stiff wind could knock him over, or a falling bookshelf could knock him flat. Carrying a stack of heavier books did wind him, true, but he wasn’t about to admit to that. The library was more than a century old, the various wings expanded in parts throughout the decades, brought slowly but surely into the modern age through grants and alumni donations. The stained, ruffled carpeting was from the 70s, the bathrooms hardly updated since the 50s, the lighting replaced in the 90s, and the ceilings had recently been updated, removing all remaining asbestos in the building, probably. After graduation, he dreamed of working at an Ivy League library, one much older and more prestigious, at the ready to support the thinkers of tomorrow. Or, perhaps a small-town library could be just as nice, a celebration of the arts and a resource to anyone with a library card, a shining beacon in the community. The cart was nearly empty as he resumed his way down the library’s west wing. As soon as he returned the last book, he was free to check in with his manager then clock out for the day. If he really focused and finished the essay he had been putting off, there might be time to catch up on some reading for fun before turning in for the night, a rare treat these days. As he knelt to return a dusty memoir about a 17th century mathematician at the end of a shelf, he glanced at the nearby wall and frowned, puzzled at a detail he hadn’t noticed before. The wall bore traces of the accumulation of painting, repainting, and wallpaper over the decades and looked much like any other stretch of wall not covered by bookcases. However, there was what appeared to be a keyhole at chest height in the wall. The surrounding area showed no signs of a door, and the other side of the wall was the library’s exterior, with no more than a few feet in between. Adam knelt and looked through the keyhole but saw only darkness. He ran a finger along the opening and felt the tiniest hint of airflow coming from within. The wallpaper surrounding the opening was torn, as though someone had punctured it to insert a key. But that didn’t make any sense. He looked up and down along the wallpaper on the wall’s surface area and found no other hint of a doorway; if a door were truly there, wouldn’t the wallpaper be torn in more places? Just as he was about to shrug and give up, the mystery less interesting than the thought of finishing his shift for the day, a glint from the corner of his eye caught his attention. Wedged in between the wall and the nearest bookshelf, close to the floor, was the edge of a ring. He tried to move the bookshelf back, but the weight of fifty doorstopper textbooks was too much to budge. He tried to leverage a finger into the ring, but there was hardly enough room for a fingernail to gain any space. Searching in his pockets, he took out his key fob containing his dorm room key, mailroom key, and car key, and slid a key into the brief space between the ring and the bookshelf. He gripped and pried, barely able to use any leverage, but the ring began to move with his effort in time. More of the ring became visible, as well as the brass key it was attached to. Once he had enough space, Adam looped a finger into the ring and tugged, prying the ring and key loose. It clattered on the floor. The key looked like something out of an old ghost story, long and thin with two large teeth. He picked it up and looked at the hole, then glanced back and forth between the bookshelves. He was alone. Slowly, he inserted the key, which fit perfectly. He twisted, and a simple clicking sound emerged from the wall, followed by increasingly loud clicks, whirs, and metallic grinding. The wallpaper ripped in seams in a rectangular shape, bending inward, as hinges squeaked. The section of wall slowly opened inward, revealing a brick wall a few feet within. Adam tentatively leaned inside. The brick wall and the outside wall ran in parallel, a dark, dusty passageway running in between. He swallowed hard and stepped back into the library, face growing red. With a large section of the wallpaper clearly torn, he was sure to be on the hook for the damage, and for what? A shadowy length of tunnel in the walls that surely must have been some maintenance tunnel a hundred years ago? To top it all off, the dust was probably asbestos, too. Maybe if he hurried and finished restocking the books, no one would know he had done it. A more adventurous side of Adam shrugged and stepped back inside the passageway. If he was going to get in trouble for tearing up wallpaper in the library, he could at least find out what was in the secret tunnel. He took out his phone, turned on the flashlight, and slowly crept down the passageway, breathing into his shirt sleeve. A thin layer of dust sat on the concrete floor, becoming airborne with his footsteps. The passageway was barely wide enough for his shoulders to squeeze through. Various pipes and cables ran along the ceiling. He couldn’t remember exactly how long the outside wall ran, but it felt as though he was walking longer than it should have allowed. At some point, he looked back over his shoulder to find the entrance and its resulting light long gone, his phone providing the only illumination. A set of concrete steps descended into pitch black darkness, so thick his flashlight couldn’t reach the bottom. Against his better judgment, he continued, taking care with each step not to fall and hurt himself where no one could hear him. The silence was so pervasive it made his ears ring, the sound of his footsteps the only thing audible. Shadows danced against the walls. His pulse started to quicken, and it took everything within him not to turn and run back into the safety of the library, his curiosity perhaps overpowering his common sense. If something emerged from the darkness, sprinting and snarling with sharp teeth, was there enough space to turn and run? At some point, the steps arrived at flat ground once again, stretching into the unknown. Concrete floor gave way to hard packed earth, the walls turning to natural stone. The ceiling was low and rocky, forcing him to duck as he progressed. Patches of lichen grew in intervals on each surface, intermixed with flower stems and dried petals. As he walked, grasses appeared, yellow and dry, crunching underfoot. Vines crisscrossed along each surface. He frowned, confused. Botany was far outside his wheelhouse; did plants like that grow below the surface, outside the sunlight? At the very least, it was proving an interesting diversion and not a waste of time. The passageway opened up into a cavern, spanning fifty feet across and twenty feet high. Vines hung from the ceiling, intermixed with stalactites, while thicker grasses cushioned his footsteps. A flowerbed stood to his right, fenced in by flat, smooth stones, full of dead plants. Trees of different species were situated evenly around the cavern, their branches bare and their bark dull and flaky. Two passageways stood at the far end of the cavern, partially covered in vines. The air was stagnant, but still bore traces of a soft, floral scent. A dead body lay on a pedestal in the center of the cavern. Adam screamed, the sound reverberating through the enclosed space, the jolt sending his phone clattering on the grassy floor. He accidentally kicked it as it fell, mid-flail, sending the spinning light some distance away. Unfortunately, it landed face-up, hiding the flashlight and casting the location in pitch-black darkness. He breathed hard, body heart pounding, dropping to his knees and sweeping his hands along the ground. He tried not to think of what might happen if he couldn’t find his phone or if it broke when it hit the floor, or what a corpse in a secret tunnel below the library meant. His fingers grazed the hard plastic shell of his phone case a few feet away. Fumbling in the dark, he picked it up and swung it around, illuminating the cavern once more. He was alone, aside from the dead body. No serial killer or mole men present. He slowly stood up, heart resuming its normal rhythm, and walked to the middle of the cavern. The corpse lay in a supine position, hands folded across the chest, in the center of a tree stump, one which bore hundreds of tree rings. The body, that of a woman, was so old it was more bone than flesh, what remained of its skin leathery and stretched taut. Thick green hair, intermixed with dried flowers, cascaded down to the thighs, almost acting as a bed. The body was clad in a long, flowing dress of white which fell to the ankles, the material rich but moth-eaten. It seemed to swallow her up within its swathes of fabric; either she had been placed there in a dress several sizes too big, or her body had shrunk post-mortem. Whoever she was, her facial features were still visible, her lined face bearing a soft expression and the hint of a smile. Adam was at a loss for words. He hadn’t known what to expect when first entering the passageway, but a corpse was not on the list of possibilities. No, scratch that, a body was well within what might be expected. Whatever happened next was far outside his list of responsibilities as a student worker and far above his pay grade. He opened his camera app, snapped a few pictures, then turned to return to the surface, where the discovery would become someone else’s problem. He might at least become the talk of campus, maybe even get on the local news. Not like the university town had much excitement going on anyway. But before he could leave, his eyes fell on a book lying in the grass on the other side of the pedestal. Giving the tree stump a wide berth, he walked over and knelt beside it. The book was bound in aged black leather, heavy as hell, and as big as the periodical journals kept in the library stacks. The cover held no title or image. He checked along the spine for library identification, but found nothing, so it hadn’t come from the surface. It looked old, as old as the limited selection of works from the 1800s he came across from time to time in the library, but couldn’t place its exact age. Slowly, carefully, he opened the cover, the spine creaking from the motion as though it hadn’t been opened in ages. Inside the front cover was handwriting he could hardly decipher, his grasp of cursive limited. It seemed to read the following: [i]I didn’t know goddesses could die. I’m sorry. To my successor, know that these pages contain all the wisdom I gleaned along the way. I hope you find it useful. Make this world a brighter, lusher place.[/i] Lines of handwritten text followed on the opposite page, presumably continuing for the length of the book. But what drew Adam’s gaze most of all was the pressed rose taped by its stem below the note. It glowed softly red, providing the only illumination besides his phone that he had seen in hours. The note, the body, the growth within the cavern that shouldn’t be possible, it all melded into a discovery that raised a host of questions which, again, shouldn’t be his problem. Glowing flowers couldn’t mean anything good, and yet, he couldn’t look away. The soft light was as calming as a sunrise, radiating warmth like a campfire. The petals looked so soft, finer than the most luxuriant fabric. It lacked any thorns, beautiful and inviting. Adam reached out and touched it. A jolt of red light arced from the rose to his finger, like a demonstration in electricity he had seen in elementary school science class. He felt a twinge of pain as though he had touched a thorn, yanking his arm back and cradling his hand. Grimacing, he rubbed his finger, which throbbed and pulsed red. The red light glowed through his fur, highlighting veins and arteries as it spread to other fingers and moved down to his palm. He gasped, swiping at the hand with his other as though he could wipe away the light like a spot of dirt. But the light expanded, unimpeded, moving up his arm from elbow to shoulder until his entire arm glowed red, casting harsh light into the cavern. He felt warmth wherever the light touched, and his body twitched as though new, nervous energy coursed through him. The light spread, cascading across his torso and down his legs until he was soon entirely coated in red, glowing brighter than the flashlight on his phone. The energy coursed through him, and he realized with a start that he could intimately feel the inner workings of his body: the passage of each blood vessel, the pumping of his heart, his lungs expanding and contracting, the mechanical motion of his digestive system, his very cells multiplying and dying. Just as he became aware of the boundaries of his body, as well as he knew each wing of the library and each shelf of books, his body started to shift. After becoming saturated within his body, the red light, with seemingly nowhere else to go, expanded and contracted in equal measure, shaping his body as though he were nothing but crafting clay. He grew taller, his arms and legs stretching beyond the limits of his long-sleeved shirt and pants. In a matter of moments, his clothes became two sizes too small, growing tight against his expanding body. He looked down, heart racing, to see twin lumps growing from his chest, starting from no larger than cherry pits to balloon into veritable melons that strained against the fabric of his sweater vest, nipples the size of his thumbs protruding outward. Grimacing, he fell to his knees, clutching his back at the weight from the hearty breasts, which felt like two sandbags nearly the size of his head melded to his chest. Letting out a groan, he grabbed at his hips, the bones creaking as they broadened, his pants tearing from the straining fabric. His formerly angular physique gave way to plush curves, soft and billowing, like sinking his fingers into fluffy pillows. His thighs followed, pants ripping at the seams on either side of his legs, expanding into veritable tree trunks. His bottom rounded as well, taking on the appearance of two basketballs stuffed into his pants. His belt, sitting low against his waist, remarkably remained in place, his generous growing curves growing around the leather and digging into his plump flesh. Grimacing and gritting his teeth, he fumbled with the belt clasp, the strain feeling nearly strong enough to bisect him, nearly disappearing within his growing bulk. With a sigh of relief deeper than any he had felt before, he managed to undo his belt and pull it free, his curves undulating from the freed strain. He attempted to pull his pants free as well, but there was no need; with a final rip, the thrifted corduroys fell into pieces on the grassy ground below, leaving only a pair of boxers, elastic waistband somehow holding on. Heat and energy radiated within his underwear, his glowing body turning the material into a ghastly red. Something was happening inside, shifting along with the rest of his body. Striking up his courage, he pulled the waistband free with a finger and peered inside, past the pendulous lumps on his chest. His penis, flaccid from fear, glowed red, the veins standing out in a stark blue. It withdrew within itself to the size of his thumb, reminiscent of stepping out from the comfort of his bed into his freezing apartment on a winter’s morning prior to hopping into the shower. However, as he looked on with encroaching horror, it continued to shrink until it met his groin, the head molting into a yonic opening. His balls shrank as well until they were more like raisins before sinking into his new hole. The hole morphed into vulval folds, the remnants of his penis settling at the top of the opening, no larger than a bean surrounded by flesh. He could feel more changes happening inside of him, organs rearranging and new anatomy taking shape. His billowing lower body tore away the last remnants of his underwear, exposing his new genitalia. His feet slipped out of the confines of his shoes, socks tearing apart. He attempted to look behind himself at his burgeoning rear, but a newfound addition obscured it like a curtain. His brown hair, formerly short and trim, now cascaded over his shoulders and down to his bottom in a thick, lush wall of dense green, as though it was made of vines. The bulk of his hair obscured his peripheral vision, and flung about as his gaze shot from side to side as he panicked taking in his morphing body. What was happening to him? And, god, when would it finally stop? Not soon enough, it seemed, as the bone and muscle and flesh of his face burned hot and intense as though a clamp were being pressed. His forehead ached, his cheeks, nose, and chin morphing into something he could not see. At his extremities, his arms and legs thickened into soft rolls of fat, seemingly catching up to match what had been done to his chest, thighs, and rear. His gut groaned, ballooning outward into a paunch as though he had binged an entire buffet, large enough to touch his thighs and nearly cover his genitalia. His sweater vest and the button-up dress shirt beneath it finally gave up, buttons popping off one by one, the stitches of his sweater vest unraveling before his eyes. He slowly rose to his feet, breathing hard, not used to the weight now blanketing his frame. He looked down at his supple, voluminous breasts, at his soft, pillowy belly, at the sturdy, hearty thighs supporting the weight above. Through it all, he was dumbfounded, his mind not registering what his eyes beheld. He was no longer the rail-thin, diminutive raccoon. He was not even male. Why did that not sound so bad? The thought should have sent him into hysterics, but as he took in his new, morphed body, new feelings crept in. Comfort? He rubbed his hands against his soft, pillowy flesh, finer than any bed or blanket, the warmth within soft and inviting. Satisfaction? The way his new curves glided and cascaded around his body, it was like it was always meant to be, the missing key to the lock in his life. Wholeness? He- No, that word hardly applied anymore, as useful as the tatters of clothing shredded around her feet. [i]Her[/i]. Now that sounded better. And, alongside that, her old name was just as useless. A new name sprang to mind: [i]Ava[/i]. Ava approached the remains on the pedestal, taking pleasure in the movements of her body, as fine as any dancer. “Were you… like me?” she asked, grinning at the higher pitch of her voice, now closer to a songbird. Her thoughts returned to the book, to the words inside the cover. “[i]I didn’t know goddesses could die.[/i] Were you- Am I…?” She looked down at her hands, at her frame, at her generous proportions, at the perfectly sculpted contours that now made up her body. Images sprang to mind from her gen-ed art history class her freshman year, of clay and stone figures thousands of years old and the subdued laughter dotting the auditorium. Figures with the same exaggerated proportions she now called her own. “Am I… a fertility goddess?” To a mind used to the banality of academia, to the grind of living life in the world above, the question was absurd, as equally valid as asking if the moon was made of cheese. And yet, below the surface, surrounded by dead foliage far from any source of light, in a body molded by a magical rose, the question could not be dismissed. As if reacting to her question, the cavern sprung to life. Dead branches grew vibrant green leaves. Flowers bloomed in every color of the rainbow. Grass became thick and verdant. Vines grew heavy and hearty, producing bushels of fruit. Bright lights dotted the ceiling, illuminating the cavern like a summer’s day. And as intimately as she felt the inner workings of her body, she felt the flow of energy through the greenery, the sustenance allowing everything to thrive. She was surrounded by life, as joyous and as special as her own. If a cavern just fifty feet across held such diversity of life, how much greater would it feel to be back on the surface? A fluttering grew within her being, causing her to titter as though she was being tickled from the inside. Her changes were not totally complete, it seemed. Her belly, sizeable already, expanded outward, growing taut and ever tighter until her belly button became an outie. An uncomfortable pressure followed in her swelling breasts, trickles of milk relieving that pressure like air being slowly released from a balloon. The liquid collected in her fur, falling in rivulets onto the swell of her belly. She could still see the inner workings of her body, and realized with a start that the space within her womb was empty, the apparent pregnancy a phantom sensation. As a fertility goddess, was the appearance all that was needed? No matter. She slowly rubbed her hands along the tight swell of her belly, taking pleasure in a comfort and sense of protectiveness she didn’t know was possible. Her body was its own ecosystem, operating within the mass of growth dotting the cavern. “My dear, my dear, just look at you,” a low, booming voice called out, rousing Ava from her reverie. A coyote stood at the opposite entrance, dressed sharply in a three-piece designer suit. His grin was wide and toothy. “I always knew this day would come, that someone else would take over the mantle.” Ava did not recognize him as anyone from the library. A wealthy donor, perhaps? Who would know about these tunnels? “Wh-who are you?” she asked, shrinking back. His casual demeanor and sudden appearance set her ill at ease. “I am your master, same as my great-grandfather was to her,” he replied, gesturing toward the corpse. “Stand still. Let me get a good look at you.” He breathed deeply of the cavern’s aroma. “God, it’s even better than he said it was. A shame Father and Grandfather died before anyone found that key of his. Apparently, someone has to touch that rose of their own free will for the transformation to take place. I doubt you noticed the sensors located behind the entrance, which alerted me to your presence. I’ve been watching you on my cameras the whole way down. Mmm, you look so good. I love a woman with meat on her bones.” “…Thank you?” was all she could think to say. She turned her gaze toward the exit back to the library. The tunnel had been barely wide enough on the way down; there was no way she could return the same route in her new body. “You already know ‘thank you.’ That’s good. You’ll become intimately familiar with ‘please’ as well before long. Like I said, I am now your master, body and soul. Call me Sedgwick. These walls? Better get used to seeing them, as you will never see anything else for the remainder of your days. And, considering your divinity, that will extend well into my future son’s life, and his son’s life, at our pleasure. And, oh, what pleasure we will receive.” Ava’s stomach had slowly dropped as Sedgwick spoke and ambled toward her, her skin breaking out into a sheen of sweat. The feeling of the life growing around her was a greater, more special feeling than anything she had ever experienced. But compared to what grew on the surface, it was hardly a droplet of water in an empty cup. She could not let this new body, these new sensations, be stuck down there. Sedgwick eyed the greenery, nodding with appreciation. “Already honing your powers, I see. Very good. You’ll grow much more at my command.” Bending down, he picked up the book on the other side of the pedestal and started leafing through its contents. “She considered herself a writer, bless her heart. I suppose it took her mind from these confines. Apparently this was written for you, but,” he slammed the book shut, tucking it under his arm. “Let’s keep that secret, shall we? I assume you are a reader, if you were in the library. Not that it matters who you used to be.” Ava eyed the exit behind the coyote. She had hardly been in this body more than a few minutes and had barely moved. Was she fast enough or strong enough to get behind her would-be captor? Even then, she had no idea what lay beyond it. An even tighter tunnel? A platoon of bodyguards? Sedgwick seemed to notice her apprehension, glaring at her. “I won’t touch you, if that’s a concern of yours. Violence does not hasten creation, my great-grandfather said. The herbs, produce, and medicine produced from your powers of growth seem to sense stress and are worthless when contaminated with it. But,” he said, his teeth set, “I won’t hesitate to make that sweet body a canvas for my fists if you don’t do what you are told, understand? I tell you what to grow, and you make it.” A captive life was no life at all, especially when she had just begun to taste what this new reality had to offer. Was she consigned to be some worker drone, using powers she didn’t yet understand to create at this man’s beck and call? There had to be a way out. She still felt the inner workings of the greenery around her, which had begun to wilt as if in response to her stress. It had grown with her joy, but how? Was there a way to manually control the life around her? Sedgwick seemed to think so, purely for his own benefit. Ava concentrated on a vine hanging from the ceiling, on its inner workings and microscopic makeup, the names of parts long forgotten from high school science class that she now knew intimately. [i]Could you move along that rock, please?[/i] she asked. In response, new branches grew outward, tendrils shooting out to anchor its new weight to the rock face. Seasons of growth happened in mere moments, the branches thickening into hearty extensions. [i]Would you mind swinging back and forth?[/i] As obedient as a trained dog, the tendrils let go, the vines dropping a few inches to sway back and forth as though dancing in the wind. “Wh-what do you want me to make?” Ava asked, her voice thin and wavering. She eyed Sedgwick, but her connection to the vines was so deep that she could continue to communicate without looking at them. She couldn’t afford to let him see what she was doing. Sedgwick grinned, nodding. “That’s a good girl. Obedience comes with its perks, I assure you. Maybe in time you can have a few of your favorite books down here if you do well enough. Hmm, let’s start with something simple, as new as you are. I’m in the mood for a good orange. Grow me one.” With a deep breath, Ava closed her eyes and split her attention, urging the vines to continue growing ever bigger on the ceiling, and coaxing an orange tree to life. She formed a seed in the soil, helping it along with a smile and somehow finding the mental energy to give it the joy it needed to sprout and grow. Roots took anchor, sensitive sapling shooting up. The tiny stem thickened, branches spreading and forming diminutive leaves. Years of growth occurred in moments until a hearty orange tree towered in the cavern, yielding bright white flowers and vibrant oranges large enough to fill Ava’s palm. Sedgwick twisted and pulled an orange from a low-hanging branch, using a claw to cut the skin. He tossed the book on the pedestal, then popped a slice in his mouth and chewed, his face alight. “Lovely work, dear,” he said, swallowing a bite. “As fine as any I’ve ever tasted. You and I will work wonders. My family’s wealth will continue, and you will find a comfortable life down here, if you stay good.” Ava nodded and smiled, hands clasped in front of her, trying to look as demure and compliant as possible. Behind Sedgwick, vines twisted down from the ceiling, thick as arms, nearly touching the ground. Ava spared a quick look at them, her smile growing wider. [i]Get him[/i], she thought. Sedgwick furrowed his brows, catching Ava’s line of sight. He turned around, too slowly, in time to see a horde of vines pounce on him, entwining around his limbs, covering his torso in an avalanche of greenery. He swore and struggled back against it, strong enough to snap a few vines but, like a hydra, each snapped vine grew ever more tendrils that served to wrap him ever tighter. Within moments, he looked like a mummy covered in living, writhing wraps, every inch of his body covered, save his snarling face. “What do you think you’re doing, you bitch?” he spat, eyes bulging. “I own you! My family owns you! You, her, and anyone who comes next! Your fat ass can’t even leave this place. Tell these things to let me go, and I’ll only punish you a little. I might even forget about this if you just do what you’re told.” The vines pulled tighter and Sedgwick grimaced, whimpering. “Okay, okay. You like books? I’ll give you books, as many as you want! Internet, luxuries, a fucking hot tub if you want one. Just let me go!” Ava stepped lightly across the grassy earth until she was face to face with her captor. Her divine senses took in the entirety of Sedgwick’s being, and she came away unimpressed. The stench of his fear played at odds with the finery of his clothes, the musk of his expensive cologne. “You’re giving me exactly what I want,” she muttered. “My freedom.” She gave a mental suggestion, and the vines around Sedgwick’s neck did the rest. A quick, audible crack, and the coyote was no more. The vines pulled away, dumping his limp body to the ground. She didn’t give him another thought, returning to the pedestal and collecting the book, holding it securely against her chest. She clasped her predecessor’s hand, giving it a light squeeze. “I’m sorry you suffered under that family. I… know what this body can feel, and I can’t imagine being forced to reside here, away from the world above. Thank you for this book and the wisdom it no doubt contains. I will do my best to make the surface a greener, nicer place. It deserves that kind of goddess.” She walked away, returning to the entrance back to the library. It was too narrow to pass through, but she had an idea. “If you wouldn’t mind, my dears,” she said to the vines. The plants in turn snaked across the cavern, too numerous to count, and filled the passageway. A loud, grinding noise echoed and, inch by inch, the passage walls widened at the force of the vines. They twisted ahead, making short work of the rock walls further along. It would take time, but Ava would be back on the surface soon, in a new body with new powers beyond anything she had ever known. A meek, scrawny raccoon had departed; a fertile goddess would emerge, ready to change the world.