FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

The company rode swiftly through the dead of night, already on the verge of frost. James had hardly noticed how cold it had gotten in all of the excitement, but the icy air increased its effects while they remained in motion.

Even on their final approach, the village was barely visible through the forest gloom, save for the dotting of torches at key intervals. As though they had crashed through some invisible wall, the forest opened up to a vast clearing where trees had either been cleaved from life or had refused to grow. From what little he could see, the entire village seemed to take a semi-circle shape around a central fire pit easily a stone's throw wide.

Simple, solid buildings of mud and grass and sticks made up the bulk of the grounded structures large enough to accommodate perhaps two people each. In the occasional, dim torch light he saw that they staggered each other in curved lines as if to form a maze for anyone wishing to view the great fire pit. Further along the edges, however, a few larger buildings were scattered; they appeared to be constructed of wood, perhaps making up more communal buildings.

Further still, an auditorium of wooden structures took to the trees. He could barely discern the cords wrapped and secured along the trunks providing crude ladders to their tops. Outlines of vast decks spanned around each of the buildings with suspended cord and wood bridges linking them together. James couldn't even begin to guess their purpose; they were multi-floored, akin to modern cabin constructions. Without any discernable tools or construction equipment, he couldn't help but marvel at their existence.

But he had no time to study them; Austrus brought the company to a halt at the great, unlit pit. After dismounting herself, she offered her paw once again to assist James from his perch. Harman and Dart dismounted themselves while the remaining riders were dismissed. With a rigid salute, a waiting hand took the reins from Austrus.

"Well come, indeed! Take rest, my new friends!"

From the dim background another figure approached holding a steady amber glimmer in his paw. He was a more stout mouse than the others had been; standing as high as James' shoulder, he was marginally shorter as well. But he was shaped as though he were carved from granite and carefully detailed. His long robes were as pure as his fur, perhaps in homage to snow that threatened to fall. As he approached, he extended a paw as if he wished to shake hands; James took it and shook back in mild surprise.

"My treasured guests," the newcomer continued, "be welcome among us! I am Hargrove, chieftain of Goldenbloom!" He turned to face the rest of the party as well. "Your straits have been made known to us. In haste we have made ready accommodations. Bedding and clean garments have been provided, as well as space for bathing should you desire. Once you have settled, water and viands also shall be provided. I do hope such provision pleases you."

James absently nodded his approval, but said nothing.

"It is well, then; we shall provide what we can to aid you in exchange for your grace." Gesturing to Dart, he continued, "It has also been made known among us you have sustained injuries in your travels. For your wounds, the elder shall provide his knowledge and herb to ease your recovery."

Hargrove then turned to face the rest of the resting village to address the darkness with a shout. "Tonight, we shall rest; but tomorrow, we shall celebrate the arrival of our savior!" He ended his announcement with a clap and excused himself from the party to talk to Austrus on the side.

To James' surprise, dozens of cheers and hollers resounded throughout the open space, betraying the emptiness the darkness sought to impose. But he gave up counting shouts to address his more immediate concerns with Harman. Leaning in, he questioned the now exhausted Lapin, "What did he mean by 'the arrival of our savior'? What did you promise them?"

Harman gave him a dismissive gesture and whispered, "Nothing we shan't be able to handle. In exchange for a simple favor, they are to provide us food and shelter until our departure. It is only fair we exchange favors." James struck his shoulder to pry more specifics from him, but he only recoiled and scolded, "It was a better arrangement than waiting to die in the woods!"

Though James was unsatisfied with the answer he was given, he did at least agree that help should be repaid; he only wish he knew the cost. He sighed and approached Dart to ask if he would be alright, but the Avis was too busy studying the dirt under his feet to heed him. He shrugged and indicated to Harman which of the illuminated huts he would occupy; knowing they were out of immediate danger - and that proper care was allotted for Dart - he disregarded lesser concerns. He was still unfamiliar with the land, but those mysteries would not be solved before sunrise.

As he entered his indicated hovel, he found it more accommodating than it had initially suggested from the outside. A heavy, patterned curtain hung from the doorway in lieu of a door; he guessed the villagers had little need for defense or privacy in such a remote community. But it held the warmth of the room effectively; he could not complain. The ceiling was dotted with a handful of familiar, light-emitting Bijou that gently provided their benison. Their cheerful amber glow filled every crevice of the room.

To the far right of the room were furniture for perhaps two occupants, though only a single bed was present. It had a sturdy wooden frame that seemed larger than the openings of the doorways, as though the building had been built around it. It boasted a plush mattress of heavy, woolen fabric that was stuffed with hays or grasses to provide cushion. Three wooden-and-wicker chairs circled around a short, wooden table that came up to his knees.

An open doorway in the middle of the back wall opened up into a bathing room with the same casual glow. A short, wooden stool sat inside a heavy-looking tub. Though it appeared to be made of clay, it had been worked and hardened to emulate stone. No plumbing of any kind was evident - or expected - he figured water would be heated and brought in to bathe.

Not a moment after he finished examining his room, a somewhat younger mouse entered bearing a platter of various dried meats, fruits, and hard cheeses arranged around a large pitcher and flagon. From her initial appearance, he gauged she was perhaps only somewhat younger than the riders that had rescued them, but it did not take long for James to grasp the implication of her attire. She was dressed in a long, silken robe of purest white that matched her sleek fur, sharing the luxury of Hargrove or Austrus.

Unlike the others' robes, the material was exceptionally thin. Though it provided a measure of concealment, her features were still evident. She was more slender than Austrus had been, but subtle muscle tones created implied lines in her fur. She lingered in the doorway for a moment to study James as though she may descry some hidden intention, but quickly gave up her search. "I am Mileena, daughter of Austrus. I bid you welcome."

James blushed slightly and turned his gaze instead to the side. "If it would please you, I bear food and drink," she stated as she approached the short table near the bed. Her voice was practically a song, joyful to provide service, if not for subtle harmonies suggesting scorn.

He could barely make eye contact, but he replied nonetheless, "Thanks. I, uh, appreciate it." It was all he could choke out in the moment - some hidden trait or silent beauty seemed to command his attention, but his awkward shyness won out. Quickly, she worked to arrange the food in a more presentable fashion before pouring a hearty, brown liquid into the large mug. With both paws, she offered it to James.

Wandering over to the table, he sat himself down and accepted the cup from her. Staring into it, the dark, syrupy liquid bubbled and frothed gently; it's appearance reminded him of muddy water or a thickened cola. Its scent was deep and earthy, hinting of chocolate and must.

While he studied his offering, Mileena offered its history, "This is Amberwort. It is our famous specialty, brewed of nuts and berries local only to this region. It is our life-blood, providing trade where we unable to suffice. Though our soil is rich, the trees crowd the sun and the perpetual chill forbids sprouting. Please enjoy our prideful craft." Her mien exuded courtesy and care, but still her voice betrayed the frayed edge of contempt.

James had never liked beer, but he also imagined a fantasy world may have better liquor than he was accustomed to. Starting with a shallow sip, he allowed its flavor to mingle on his palate and down his throat. A few gulps quickly followed suit, then steadily he finished the contents of the mug. The flavor was hard to describe - it still tasted of the bitter hops and malts he thoroughly disliked, but true to its scent it also tasted of chocolate and nuts with a hint of citrus bleeding through. When he had swallowed his last, he was quickly overtaken by a profound refreshment.

"This," he began between swallows, "is actually pretty good! I've never had anything quite like it before!"

Mileena smiled knowingly and nodded a silent thanks as she extended her paw to retrieve the empty glass. James complied. While she poured him another serving, he began to sample at the various fares he had been provided. Within a few bites, however, he realized his rudeness. After swallowing what he was already chewing, he offered to share with her.

With a smile and a shake of her head, she declined. "I am contented. Please, eat your fill. More shall be provided should you so desire." Shrugging a reply, James returned to his meal - god, he was hungry! But while he ate, he became increasingly uneasy with her company; she had done little else than sit motionless and watch him consume the platter's offering. Clearing his throat, he sought an end to the difficult silence.

"So, tell me about yourself, or about your village." He took another sip of Amberwort between sentences. "We're lucky we stumbled across you; how is it you came to be this far out in the wilderness?"

Surprise filled Mileena's features before she looked away in embarrassment or shame. "Surely the gods of old know well our ancestry, more intimately than even I. Do you seek to test the limits of my knowledge?"

In shock, James stopped eating; he had clearly struck a nerve by accident. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to offend you," he apologized. "I'm not sure what a 'god' even is in this world. I was summoned here, taken from my home without my consent. I don't really know anything about this world or what people are expecting from me."

His answer seemed to perplex her, but she quickly returned to her expert poise. "Very well. If it would please you, I would demonstrate what separates a god from the rest of us." James nodded eagerly in approval; he needed any explanation he could get. Knowledge was the only way he was getting back to his home and his life. "Hold out your paws," she began; he submitted his hands to her. "Good. Now, close your eyes and concentrate on your palms."

Sensing the direction she was taking him, he turned up his palms and swiftly produced for her his personal flame; the warmth came more quickly than he had been able to produce in the past. Bewilderment briefly held Mileena's features, but she quickly returned to her task.

"It would appear this much is at least known to you," she remarked. "Now observe."

From a hidden pocket within her sleeve, she produced a crude, marble-sized gem. Through its coarse features, it cast a soft, blue light. Holding it in her palm, it continued to glow a dull azure before a flame grew from it like a delicate flower. She matched the timbre his flame like a dancing partner, gently pitching and wavering in harmony. She held her paw next to his and proceeded to grow her flame until it threatened to lap at the ceiling, but it produced no discernable heat. While its intensity continued to expand, its size began to shrink and form a more spherical shape. Lines on her face creased slightly, hinting the effort required as it became a perfect sphere of light without heat. James had become so enthralled he let his efforts slip to stare at the brilliant globe in wonder.

But Mileena's strain became more plain; without transition, the ball of light winked from existence, leaving behind an otherwise mundane gem. Fighting to hide her loss of breath, she continued her explanation, "Where you may summon power from the earth directly, all others require aid of more refined materials from the earth. The earth offers a bounty of precious stones and metals that may be used to direct its power, but even the most studied and knowledgeable have no power to summon their magicks without the catalyst of a Bijou."

James nodded slowly, taking in the information. He could think of no reason why he would possibly possess such an ability, but he let the contemplation slip from his mind as he probed further. "So, I'm the only one that can do this without one of those...Bijou, you called them?" She nodded softly with a 'yes' while he put his next question to words. "So how did you end up with such a perfect ball? I didn't even feel any heat from it, where mine felt like actual fire."

"Therein lies a difference of restraint. You call upon your flame as if to force it from the earth, but I merely ask it to provide for me." James could not understand her meaning, but she continued anyway, "In addition, I provide instructions for its shape. I desired a perfect sphere, and it answered my desire."

Taking his non-response as an opportunity, she snatched up his hand and placed the gem in his palm. "Try once more; but instead of forcing fire into it, ask it for assistance. Provide the spark and allow it to grow as you desire."

James gave a silent affirmation. Holding the gem in front of his face, he concentrated on its crude features; asking, pleading for fire in his mind. He could feel its presence in his mind, but it baffled his senses like a foreign language. After a few moments had passed, however, he found his way through the maze. A gentle blue flame danced in his palm, but did not share the same characteristic heat he had grown accustomed to. Without much effort, it continued to grow until it nearly claimed the ceiling, but he remembered restraint; in his mind, he pictured it reducing itself, and in kind the flame in his palm obeyed.

In an attempt to mimic Mileena's efforts, he unconsciously closed his hand around the gem and began thinking 'round thoughts'. At first he could feel no change in the light, but slowly a gentle understanding began to creep into him. Closing his eyes, he focused on producing a sphere with all of his effort. But as he pushed, he felt an astonishing fatigue growing in him. As he opened his eyes to abandon his efforts, Mileena spoke.

"Already I am surpassed."

Her voice startled him; in his hand, he had indeed produced a brilliant orb of pure, blue light like Mileena had demonstrated. But he could maintain it no longer. As with Mileena, it disappeared between instants. Exhaustion ran over him in waves as though he may faint, but he was quick to recover. Opening his hand, he silently offered her gem in return; but she did not accept it.

"Do you indeed seek my humiliation?" she scolded, "Surely one without knowledge could not produce such results!"

Confusion and surprise bloomed in him as he sought to identify his fault. Spotting the gem in his hand, it had been transformed to a perfect sphere - its polished features shined as brilliantly as any other Bijou he had encountered. He blushed deeply in embarrassment and held the marble further away, as if it were the source of his shame. "I'm sorry! I didn't mean to offend you; I had no idea that was going to happen!" He could not stop apologizing. "I don't know anything about Bijou or gods or this world! I don't know your customs and culture and I'm sorry if I hurt your feelings. Yesterday, I had a normal life with normal problems and now I'm in this fantasy world where everyone keeps telling me I'm a god. I don't even know what that means!

"Now magic is real, animals talk and stand on two legs, and for some reason I'm the solution to everyone's problems." For the first time, James had been able to put his fears into words. 'I don't know anything. They expect too much of me. I just want to go home.'

For a moment, Mileena regarded him without a word. Internally she debated his plea and considered his sincerity. But the moment passed and she snatched the gem from his palm to examine it for herself. While she studied the pristine orb, she continued her thoughts.

"You compare us to the low ones, lacking any name other than 'animals'." Her tone had become indifferent, shedding all courtesy. "Do such beings as myself have no place in your world?"

James stared at her, struggling to find the right words. "No," he began cautiously, "not in the way you live here. It's, ah, well my world is a little different. Animals take various shapes and sizes, but they cannot talk or directly communicate, and they walk on all fours. They also don't have," he searched for the right word, "self-awareness."

She seemed to accept the answer without a word, leaving James with a little more relief. Already the tang of Amberwort was fading from taste, but warmth it had provided continued to linger. Lacking direction, he took another sip from his mug and waited for the conversation to continue.

She bowed to him curtly and returned the gem to her hidden pocket. "My apologies, James Yooman, God of Old; I was regretfully quick to judge. Do you not then share the beliefs of my people?"

James shook his head, "I don't even know what your beliefs are; I'm having trouble with my own beliefs anymore. When I return to my own world, I'm definitely going to have to re-evaluate a few things." He shifted from his stool and onto the edge of the bed where he could remove his shoes. "But that's all in the future. Right now, I think I should get to bed. A lot has happened recently - too much - and I think I could really use a good night's rest." He tossed his freed shoes to the foot of the bed and scooted more to the center. "Thanks for stopping by and explaining this to me, though. I really appreciate it."

But when he looked up to give a final goodnight, he was bereft of words. While he had directed his attention to removing his shoes, she had unfastened the tie of her robe and let it fall to her feet, revealing herself to him. Her slender form supported supple curves suggesting fertility, full breasts virtually demanding his attention. For one stunned moment, she held his every attention.

"Oh, uh.." he stammered awkwardly, "what are you doing?"

Mileena strolled towards him smoothly, "I am to bed with you," she replied in a matter-of-fact tone.

Her bare form commanded his observation a moment longer, but James could not shake the wrongness of the sudden situation. Blushing profusely, he turned his gaze to the side and attempted his refusal. "I'm...sorry. I don't know if this is a cultural thing, but I'm not really comfortable with this." A sudden torrent of thoughts poured through his mind, many urging him to take the offer, but he could not accept. In a deep corner of his mind, he knew something was wrong.

Laying a hand on his shoulder, she leaned in to whisper in his ear, "Does my form not please you?"

"No, you're fine." He was grasping for words. "You're beautiful! I just..." his voice trailed off; he could not complete the sentence. Her paw began to wander playfully down his chest while the tumult of urgings boomed in his head. But before the uproar overwhelmed him completely a sudden pulse of fire burst through his head, searing the wailing opinions to ash. Released from his riotous gaol, he bolted to his feet and stepped away. "I'm sorry. I just...can't," he pleaded.

A few breaths came and went; Mileena pulled her paw back. Leaning down, she collected her gown and began to don it once more. "Very well. This I will respect." Her tone had become ice, her words frozen daggers. As she approached the doorway, she paused to fasten the ties and leave him with parting advice.

"For your sake, and that of your companions, I hope you are quick to leave." Lifting the curtain to exit, she murmured a cruel farewell. "You should never have come here."

With that she was gone; but she had left in him a lingering dread. 'You should never have come here.' He repeated silently, as though it would answer his confusion. Tugging at his hair in exasperation, he groaned. 'What the hell was that about?'

He reached and stuffed another chunk of cured meat in his mouth and chewed his frustrations while removing his shirt. He downed the entire flagon of Amberwort in hopes he could scrub the interaction from his memories. By the time he finished his drink he no longer cared of offense or wrongness, he merely needed slumber. As he laid in his bed, his wish was swiftly granted.

~~~~~~~~~~

The new morning brought with it a chill, but the mud hut shrugged it off easily. Streaks of dawn slid under the doorway, competing with the soft hum of bewildering amber. James greeted the new day like a funeral, but was pleased enough to at least have breakfast waiting for him. A new platter had been laid out on the table for him, boasting a bounty of various cheeses and a small loaf of bread to compliment a pitcher of fresh water.

While he mulled over his light meal, he contemplated the events of the prior evening. He was loathe to remember the apparent disgust of Mileena's cold departure, but the memory had embedded itself too permanently. Washing down the remainder of his meal, he resolved to discern her intents - and what promises Harman had made on his behalf.

He also wanted to check on Dart; in the relief of rescue, he had all but forgotten their immediate plight. Wiping the crumbs from his face he pulled on his shirt and tied on his shoes, disregarding the robe that hung in wait by the door.

The day was still young, only the most eager of birds chattering away in greeting to the new sun. Long shadows confused the terrain as they caught its gentle rays. A few mice had begun their routines about the village, carrying bundles of wood or containers wrapped in makeshift linens to unknown destinations. As one passed in front of him, he realized that they all shared the distinct pure white fur and pale pink flesh; while their facial features and body shapes were varied, he mused they could easily be confused for each other. In the confusion of night, he had had no reference. But unlike the excitement of his arrival, none of the villagers seemed to notice him - or they were too busy to care.

Sighing to himself, he wandered over to the hut next to his, calling out to his companions. "Harman? Dart? Are you awake?" He lingered at the doorway for a moment, but no reply came. He shrugged and pushed past the heavy curtain, calling out their names once again. Inside was a similar arrangement to his own shelter, save for the Lapin draped across the table in the center of the room. A wooden flagon lay just outside of his paw laying soft brown stains into the wood where a missed swallow had left discarded brew. 'Looks like someone enjoys their liquor a little too much,' he thought to himself with a smirk.

But he did not dwell on him; a former roommate had taught him Harman would be beyond response until he woke naturally. Leaving the humble dwelling, he set about the next further hovel. Here he hesitated. He had no profound wisdom or advice to impart on his new friend, but he resolved he should at least make the attempt.

Calling Dart's name, he entered warily. "Dart, are you alright?" Turning the entry corner, he saw Dart sitting upright on the end of his bed. A similar breakfast had been laid out for him, but only a small piece had been removed from the fresh loaf. His face was cemented with depression, his gaze beyond the simple walls of the dwelling. He wore only his canvas trousers, exposing flesh and tattered feathers where his injury was plain. The crude bandage James had fashioned had been removed, replaced with more suiting linens.

His heart sank at the sight; Dart's misery was as plain as the new dawn. Searching for some possible sympathy, he slowly approached the Avis. Pulling up a stool beside him, he dug for the right words, but they eluded him. He had been there before, and he knew well mere words would provide no comfort, no anodyne. Though he sighed in empathy, Dart betrayed no notice of his entry.

He was also aware that festering in the wounds of loss was a vicious downward spiral; had it not been for close friends, he may have shared his father's fate.

Without thinking, he placed his hand atop his wing. He could not hope to quell his anguish, but he could at least perhaps provide some minor relief. "I'm sorry for what happened," he began in barely a mumble, "that's what everyone says, right? That's the obligation: to express sympathy. It makes them feel better about the situation without actually contributing." He lifted his hand and rested his head his palms. "Truth be told, I hated hearing it when my father died. There was even an article about it in the newspaper; I had strangers on the street telling me how sorry they were for my loss, as if they cared."

He paused for a breath, unsure if he should continue. "But, well, what I guess I'm trying to say is I'm a stranger on the street who does care. I don't know how your relationship with him was, and I'm not claiming to have been in the same boat, but I know the depression. I know how it gnaws at your heart and turns the world gray. I've felt the guillotine hanging over my head, just begging me to pull the cord."

Dart had not shifted at all; he appeared to be trying to stare a hole in the wall opposite him.

After another brief pause, James sighed to himself and stood. As he started towards the doorway, a feathered hand grabbed at his wrist. When he turned to confront Dart, he was staring at him with tears starting to fill his eyes. "Please stay a moment longer," he squeaked out.

James immediately returned to his seat.

Dart began to sob softly; James drew him into a delicate hug, wary of his wounded shoulder. Patting his back, he sought to sooth what little he could. It only lasted a few seconds, but it was enough for him to draw back and face James.

"I owed Darris my life," he tried to say through tears and whimpering. "If it weren't for him, I would have died in an alley." He looked as though he wanted to say more, to summarize his entire history to give his memories the justice they deserved, but he choked on the words.

Silently James nodded.

He waited with him for another few minutes until his sobbing became mere sniffles. Holding Dart's shoulder, he left him with an offer, "Please, if you need anything, I'll be around. And don't wait until the pain becomes unbearable, either; I'll help however I can."

Dart replied with a nod and a sigh. He reached silently at the platter of food and picked off another piece of bread.

James decided he had done enough for the time being and gave him a brief goodbye. As he stood, he was reminded that he still carried his dagger. Breathing a thanks, he set the ornate blade on the table next to the tray.

As James walked towards the doorway, he mentioned Harman had passed out in his room, but was otherwise well. "I'm going for a run to clear my head as well, but I won't be long."

But before he could reach the doorway, another figure had entered. "That won't be necessary," a stately voice rang out. He recognized the cold delivery. As he turned to address her, she added, "James Yooman, your presence is requested."

James regarded Mileena with a mixture of dread and relief, "Just James is fine."

Her appearance was drastically different from the last evening. Instead of a flowing, silken gown, she now wore a stiff, white jacket with golden embroideries and long, flowing sleeves that contrasted the rigid torso. Various emblems and sigils adorned the face of the jacket, as though they represented royal houses or proud clans. Fine stitching and patterns were woven along the seams to hide their stitching. Her outfit was reminiscent of the garb Austrus had worn, a fine pearl that nearly faded into the color of her fur. It clung to her form, desperate to embellish her sensual curves, to display the weight of her breasts. Equally revealing were the pearlescent slacks that hung delicately from her waist. Unlike the rest of her outfit, these seemed to be formed for function, flexible and flowing. As the others, she wore no foot covering.

"Very well then, James," she corrected herself. "Please come with me."

"Alright. I wanted to talk to you about last night anyway," he replied, frustration creeping into his voice.

As she left the entryway, he turned and waved a goodbye to Dart. Mileena was impatiently waiting for him just outside the entrance. Without delay, she grabbed him by the wrist and jerked him roughly along with her. Pulling him in tow, she marched toward the ending arch of huts and into the edge of the forest. All the while, he questioned their destination, but he received no reply. Frustrated with her silence, he instead began to apologize for the prior evening's events.

Abruptly, she spun around on her heel and cupped her paw over his mouth. "I will have silence, now." She whispered angrily. "Trust or distrust, it is imperative you follow me now!"

He could only nod sheepishly as she trod on ahead without reclaiming his arm. Standing a moment further, he decided to jog on ahead to catch up with her.

The forest seemed to have no distinct features; the smattering of cedars and shrubs blended together, leaving James wondering how anyone could find their way. But once they had reached more private depths of the woods, their pace slowed to a casual walk. For several minutes they strolled in silence while dread slowly built within him. He had not forgotten the impulse she had pushed against him, the clamor of unfamiliar voices that goaded him. But if she were able to again put such pressure on his freedom, she refrained now. Ultimately it had not taken long for them to reach an area she deemed appropriate. With a command to 'stay put' she jumped onto the trunk of a tree and scaled it near its peak; James stood in cautious wonder while she exerted no effort to scale what he would have thought an impossibility.

Lingering a moment longer, Mileena completed her apparent scouting and slid back along the intimidating trunk. Content in their privacy, she immediately addressed him. "Do not trouble your conscience over your refusal last evening; you have borne me no offense. Instead, please accept my humble apologies." She bowed slightly and awaited his reply.

"Your apologies?" he began, "Let's start with whatever the hell that was! What did you do to me?"

With a sigh, she produced the very gem James had accidentally refined. "Bijou are good for more than just producing flames. The right gem in the right paws can produce effects apparently beyond your knowledge." She offered the information without any apparent sympathy. "My attempt was to lure you in a geas to fulfill my commanded purpose. Though I am chagrined to admit my failure in this, there are more important matters we must attend."

James crossed his arms and frowned. "So that's it? We're not even going to discuss why that happened?" Silently he fumed to himself. "How about the promises Harman made for me? What did he tell you I would do?"

Immediately her face furrowed in disgust. "Therein lies the trouble. Your Lapin friend has had words with my father. I know not what lies he has spun to gain favor, but a ceremony has been arranged on your behalf to offer you a more permanent form; a transformation of body to imitate our form."

James nodded thoughtfully. "That...actually doesn't sound so bad. That could be pretty useful, in fact."

"Useful in sooth," she replied scornfully, throwing her arms to her sides. "As you are, your form is unsuitable for such tasks as he has contrived. In desperation or folly, your friend promised a 'faithful wonder' in exchange for your rescue. My people worship your arrival as a boon to their livelihoods. Even now, amidst their unknowing committal to my father, preparations are underway for a Blood Rite."

His heart skipped a beat and fell to his gut. "Blood...rite?" he stammered. "What happens in a blood rite?"

Mileena sighed deeply and began pacing nervously along the forest floor. "Each year, the five healthiest males and the five healthiest females are selected." With each word, she gestured more frantically. "The males are then given herbal enhancements to boost their physique while they fight to the death. The victor of each duel then beheads his defeated rival and drinks of his blood so he may gain further strength and fertility. It is my people's belief this will further invigorate the champion's offspring."

James stood dumbfounded, trying to process everything he had just heard. He had too many questions, but he did not interrupt her.

"Once the final male is declared the champion, he is given a week to breed the selected females. Often times, the shaman and elder will provide additional supplement to the females to ensure the next generation is born strong. So it has been for the history of our people, as governed by the ancient texts. For millennia, it has been our custom of worship to perpetuate the perfection the gods had charged us with."

His knees buckled under him. Sure, he had taken a few karate lessons when he was a kid, but he couldn't fight; not really. The thought of having to behead the defeated foe curdled his blood and clenched his stomach. "How does that even work?" he asked in a mild panic. "And why? There doesn't have to be bloodshed." Dread encompassed his features.

"As barbaric as the practice is, the atrocities have multiplied with your presence. Not 2 moons ago we held the yearly rite. My father plans to ignore customs entirely given the opportunity your arrival has given him." She stood over him like a towering statue. "You are not to sully your hands in combat with lesser beings; he is to arrange their execution by your hand so you may freely pluck the life from their beating hearts and claim the title as champion as a child would reft a flower of its home in the earth. He then expects you shall take leisure in providing a new generation of offspring."

"That's - that's absolutely insane!" he wheezed. It was straight-up murder! "There's no way in hell I'm going through with that!"

Mileena placed her paw on his shoulder and smiled weakly. "It gladdens my heart to hear you say this," she confessed, "but he will not readily let you leave. You must escape tonight under the cover of darkness should you wish to evade his wrath."

As strength slowly returned to his limbs he stood and met her gaze. "I'm guessing you're going to try to make that happen for us. But why? Won't you be punished?"

With a sigh, she shook her head. "I hold no fault to you for what has come, but I cannot bear to see such bloodshed. No matter the cost, my father cannot be allowed his purpose. You will not escape unnoticed without help navigating the patrols."

James scratched the back of his head nervously. "And I don't suppose there's any way to talk him out of it?"

"My father is a very stubborn man. Once he divines a purpose he sees fit to satisfy the legacy of our heritage, he cannot be swayed."

Sensing an end to options, he agreed with her. "Alright, so we leave tonight when its dark. How will I know it's the right time?"

Visibly relieved, she gave her instructions. "When the time is right, I will visit your abode and rouse you. In the meantime, you must continue to play along to my father's whim - if he senses anything suspicious, there will be no mercy from him. Go to sleep when the night is young; you will need your rest."

James hissed through his teeth and kicked at the ground nervously. "Alright, I guess we'll do that then."

With a nod, she invited him to follow her back. "Come, we must return. Doubtless even now he craves time to garner favor with you."

Sighing, he shrugged and walked after her. But questions continued to burn in him until he could contain it no longer. "So this transformation deal - how does it work? Will he turn me into whatever I want, or does it just kinda happen on its own?"

She continued to walk with him, but her pace slowed slightly while she contemplated the answer. "It has been a great deal of time since it has last been performed, before I was born. I understand the technique is exceptionally complicated and rare, but its secrets have solely been passed from shaman to shaman. In a time passed it was a means to assimilate intruders into our community, but my mother deemed the practice impure and put an end to it. That is all knowledge I possess of its workings, however. I know not how the form is chosen, nor of its function."

The answer would have to do for now; eventually he would find out one way or another. Instead, he shifted the conversation to the previous evening. "So that Bijou from last night...how did that happen? The shaping, I mean. What does that mean?"

Abruptly Mileena stopped and plucked the gem from some hidden pocket. Requesting his hand, she placed the gem in his palm and closed his hand around it. "A gem's shape helps determine its power. In dire simplification, it is said that the individual cuts change the way energy flows through them and how it is reflected within; multiplied. A master of gems can make a beautiful gem of extraordinary power, but even a single chip can leave it as useless as its raw form."

In some weird way that made sense to him, but before he could ask another question she continued, "The shape you have wrought is a perfect sphere with no defining edges; such a shape I have never encountered before. Its use eludes me. I can draw no power from it without aid."

"What kind of aid?" he blurted out. "You mentioned something last night about precious metals as well. Does that have anything to do with it?"

Gently she shrugged, "Of this I have no knowledge. Its shape baffles my perceptions; I cannot descry its use. Likewise with metals, I have no knowledge; only that I have read certain metals can be used as Bijou."

Nodding to himself he offered its return, but Mileena refused it. "Keep it, I have no use of it. Perhaps you may find its purpose." He shrugged lightly and stuck it into the thin pocket of his shorts. There were so many other questions he wanted to ask, but already the village had begun to peek through the gaps of the trees. There was too much to learn; too much peril. He could not hope to live up to the expectations of a god; worse still, he had no idea how he would convince Harman and Dart to leave a seemingly perfect arrangement - he would just have to try.

~~~~~~~~~~

As they approached the edge of the village, Mileena took up his hand and lead him through the clearing. Calmly, she lead him through the maze of thick buildings until he could hear the familiar voice of a certain Lapin. When Harman came into view he was attempting to cheer Dart up in his own, frustrated way. When Mileena was sure she was in speaking range of the duo, she pulled him in front of her and gave him a peck on the cheek. Dart's distracted notice lead Harman to watch has she pushed him gently towards them with a wink.

"A pleasure as always," she taunted suggestively, but James was too busy trying to figure out how he would convince Harman to leave the village tonight. Harman scowled at the implication, but said nothing.

When he was sure she was far enough away, James quietly began his plea to Harman; but a deep, bellowing laugh interrupted him before he could release a handful of words. "I should name you brave indeed, James Yooman!" The interloper clasped James' shoulders firmly, swaying him to and fro. "To think someone as foreign as yourself could so quickly win my daughter's favor is a testament to your grand esteem!"

All heads turned to regard the stout Skurren standing behind James, dressed in the same manner of gold and white opulence shared by the heiress and her daughter. As all others in the village, his fur boasted the color of pure, fallen snow.

"But I have forgotten my manners, dear boy. I am Hargrove, chieftain of Goldenbloom. Though we live simple lives, you and your friends are welcome to sate your desires while in our company. As my esteemed guests, you need only ask of me what you wish."

Directing his attention first to Harman, he began to guess at their needs. "The stresses of your journey have indeed begun to weigh heavily upon you; allow me to provide a measure of comfort. I shall have fresh Amberwort brought to your chambers immediately, with friendly company to serve it."

Harman nodded with a sigh, "That is well in sooth, though your drink will provide company enough. I am grateful to accept your offer."

James grated his teeth together; it was obvious to him Hargrove was trying to keep them separated.

"Think nothing of it; it shall be done." Whistling two workers to attention, he directed them to attend Harman's needs. Bowing curtly they left at once to complete their task. Satisfied in his offering, he cast a somber glance to Dart. Without need to ask, he simply offered further care for his wounds.

Addressing James last, he posed the same question as before. James thought about it for a moment, hoping to avoid any serious regrets. "Knowledge. I'm a stranger in a strange land. I can't possibly hope to repay your kindness or provide for anyone if I'm ignorant to the needs around me."

Hargrove belted out laughter as though he would burst. But before he ran himself out of breath, he replied between chuckles, "Wisdom in all sooth!" He patted James' back heartily, "My boy, knowledge you shall have! Humble facts and experiences are the keystones that separate the Skurren - nay, all intelligent life - from the beasts of the forest. Truly your great aspirations are what have earned my daughter's keen interest!"

Inwardly James groaned, but he kept a smile on his face regardless. The least he could do with the day is to learn as much about this world as could with the free time he would be given.

"But before you are wrapped up in your studies," Hargrove continued, "we have much else to discuss. Please follow me." James looked to Harman for help, but he had already entered his hovel with Dart close behind. James was alone. With the enthusiasm of the first day of school, James nodded his compliance and followed where Hargrove lead him.

As they walked, Hargrove spoke briefly of the importance of some buildings or the history behind them, but James didn't hear most of it through his plotting. Mentally he tried to memorize the layout of the town, looking for quick escape routes, but any path he found was plainly visible; anyone could surely distinguish as well. Mileena's help would be a blessing.

Stopping at the base of one of the mighty cedars, James caught the tail-end of Hargrove's ranting description of their destination. "The laboratory above will host the shaping of your form, as I'm sure your companions have discussed with you. Our good shaman Vyson will take care of you from here. Once the ritual is complete, we shall begin discussion of the aid we would be most happy to receive from you; truly, a small favor."

James stared at the giant tree in front of him, Hargrove's voice tickling at only the faintest of his perceptions. His eyes followed the trunk to its pinnacle where a wooden building was perched; it had to be twenty, no thirty, meters above the forest floor. A vast deck surrounded the lab, connecting itself to other trees sustaining other decks by way of suspended rope-and-wood bridges straight out of an adventure movie. He swallowed hard, but was not daunted from his necessary task. The ladder built into the side of the tree looked stable enough; heavy braided cords were wrapped around the trunk, nailed in place. Each cord fit almost perfectly in his hands and jutted out far enough to allow a good foothold. 'Good thing I'm not afraid of heights.'

"Vyson will direct you to me once you are finished, but please feel free to enjoy the comforts of food and drink before speaking with me again." Hargrove did not wait for a reply. Turning on a heel, he waved behind him as he walked back towards the heart of the village.

'Real charmer,' James muttered under his breath. He began his climb up the tree; at first it was easy enough - plenty of handholds and secure footing. But the climb was arduous and quickly began to take its toll on his muscles; he was a runner, not a climber. Secretly, he hoped he could find another way down, but he could see no convenient walkways.

When he had made it to the top, he stopped to catch his breath and take in the new surroundings. The shaman's lab was undecorated; extraordinarily plain. Its construction was reminiscent of a small house, though it lacked the characteristic features of a friendly abode. Missing gutters and windows and siding, it looked more like an inflated, rudimentary treehouse. The deck surrounding it was made of uneven and twisted boards, haphazardly laid across boughs and branches; he felt as though each step would be his demise, but each board held as though some arcane force had commanded their stillness. Walking carefully across what could easily be called wreckage, he knocked on the door; but the answer was slow to come. After a few anxious moments, the door slowly creaked open to a very short Skurren who shared the characteristic flawless fur as the rest of the village. Greeting him silently, he waved for James to enter.

The cabin was much larger inside than it had appeared from the outside, no doubt a trick of its height compared to the great trees. A knurled, spiral staircase connected the three flows in the far-right corner. Various tables and desks covered in papers and parchment and books littered the room without any apparent order, all happily lit with a familiar amber glow. Silently, the Skurren he assumed was Vyson wordlessly made his way to the staircase at the back of the room and began his ascent without direction. James could only assume he was meant to follow and started up the stairs himself.

As they passed the second floor, several vials and bottles decorated the far wall. Further tables and desks scattered across the mostly empty space, presumably with more notes or books arranged in some archaic pattern. The wall closest to his left was a giant bookcase lined with hundreds - perhaps thousands - of books, but he could not see their titles. Other shelves contained strange instruments and various gems - he recognized at least a microscope in the mix.

But Vyson kept climbing stairs, marking their destination the top floor. When James had at last finished his climb, he was vaguely surprised to find it nearly empty. It was more dimly lit than the other floors, but the gabled roof made it feel more spacious. Several small tools and surgical instruments hung in predetermined slots on walls, but a large table in the center was already prepared to host his transformation. Seven differently-colored Bijou were laid single-file along one edge, a set of what looked like electrodes along the other. As James drew closer to the table, however, he realized they were instead silver wands as long as his forearms with a Bijou embedded in one end, clear as fresh spring water. Another smaller table sat next to the layout, playing host to two small bowls; one contained some unidentifiable herbal salve, the other held what could be white fur.

For the first time since James had met him, the squat Skurren spoke; a single command: "Disrobe."

Astonished, James stood as if he had misinterpreted the command. "What do you mean 'disrobe'? What do my clothes have to do with this?" But the contemptuous figure would not budge. Repeating his command, Vyson crossed his arms and stared him down. With an exasperated sigh he unlaced his shoes; neatly tucked his socks within; carefully folded his shorts to keep the magical marble tucked safely within; rigidly folded his shirt and laid it on top to cover the remains. He hesitated to remove his boxers, but Vyson's nearly hateful stare lead him to believe it would be necessary. Removing the final garment, he set it folded on top of the neat pile.

With an indignant snort, Vyson issued his next command to 'lay down'.

Though he was curious about the process he said nothing, electing instead to follow directions and avoid further possible conflict. Though the wooden table appeared older than recollection, it held him without so much as a squeak. Without time to ponder anything other than his task, a wooden bowl was disdainfully thrust into his face.

"Drink," came the command,

With a sigh, he took the bowl and stared at the pulverized verdure as though it may answer his silent questions. Its scent was subtle, of grasses and gentle herbs and flowers; equally subtle was its flavor - he had expected a terrible concoction of bitter herbs. When he had consumed the contents of the bowl, he set it beside himself and laid down flat on the table. He thought about asking for water to wash down the paste, but he guessed his plea would be ignored.

Vyson immediately began his curious work, issuing only a command to remain still. In what James could predict was some necessary, precise pattern, the mouse began laying gem after gem across his head and body. When Vyson had finished his placement, he turned his attention again down the line and meticulously arranged each gem as though their angles could have catastrophic consequences if misaligned. Clearly, he demanded perfection.

But it was not long before he seemed satisfied in the locations of the arcane crystals. Grabbing a pinch of snow-white fur, his sickly finger poked past James' lips, pushed the fur against his gums. He barked a quick set of commands for James to open his mouth and hold the fur within.

James could only wonder who the fur might have come from, but his thoughts began to swirl in warmth and comfort. Whatever Vyson had given him earlier was beginning to work its hidden purpose, dragging him slowly to the depths of his consciousness. A warmth grew from his gut like a fine liquor, but its warm tendrils crept more quickly through his thoughts.

Without missing a beat, Vyson continued his arcane purpose. Grabbing the two silver wands he placed one in each of James' hands, gem-side down. When James attempted to correct his grip, assuming the gems should be pointed upwards, Vyson slapped at his hands and snatched the wands from him. Issuing an irritated command to simply "hold," he posed James' arms and hands until he was sure they were in perfect alignment to his design. The metal was unnaturally cool, as were the gems; without warming themselves, they seemed to rob his hands of their essential warmth. As his drugged warmth declined into a stupor, he did not realize the mouse had secured his limbs to the table with robust leather straps.

Making his final movements, Vyson retrieved for himself a golden scepter with an enormous ruby perched on its end. Several golden designs were carved into the rod as though its history were engraved along its length; dozens of small gems served as punctuation against the imponderable scripts. But as Vyson approached, he murmured to himself in some unknown language. Waving the wand in dramatic gestures the giant Bijou burst to life, spilling crimson beams throughout the attic like a monotone prism. In turn, the smaller gems lit themselves as well, creating a dazzling rod of spectacular lights. With a smooth motion, he set the largest gem against the top of James' head. With one final breath, he uttered, "It begins."

Before James could even comprehend the words, his entire world became conflagration. There was no contrast to the world around him, only silver fire and burning. James struggled against his bindings, but he could not free himself from the argent heat. Discreet nodes of scoria melted into his flesh as the Bijou Vyson had lined atop his body began to slump and dissolve, vanishing without a trace.

It was as if every nerve in his body had been seared by white fire, purified by indifferent embers and transformed to ash. But his torment did not last long; as he slipped from consciousness, sympathetic darkness enrobed his broken body. Little by little, the world around him disappeared into the dark recesses of his mind.

And then there was nothing.