FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Jannick waited behind the wheel of their shuttle. It hovered at the open window of the hotel room, the passenger door propped open and ready for Roland's return. The dog shivered and rubbed his hands together as a cold breeze crept in. The seaside city was normally cold enough, but nights were especially frigid. Seasons were hardly distinguishable anymore. There once existed four recognizable seasons, which slowly became a binary of summer and winter, which in turn, became the one singular nuclear winter. One would hardly know of the others if it weren't for the continued keeping of time. Typically, only migratory birds seemed to know for certain, by some strange force in which aspects such as date and location were innately natural to their perception. It was nothing a canine like Jannick could manage to understand. He simply trusted the calendars.

Roland dragged the girl he had taken from the governor's room by the wrist as he rushed to the shuttle. He threw the door to the back seat open, and shoved her inside. She landed with a thud, looking wildly around as she desperately tried to prepare herself for whatever might come. The soiled cloth was clenched tightly between her digits-- it was her only possession, and she would hold onto it to cling to whatever comfort she could find. A piece of cloth could never protect her from the horrors of her world, but she could hope at very least.

"Mind telling me what the hell you think you're doing?" Jannick growled as the wolf slid into the passenger seat and shut the door.

"Get that engine running."

"Hell no. Roland, you're going to get us killed!" Jannick exclaimed, his hands tightening around the wheel. "You need to put that back where you found it."

"Just do it," Roland barked.

"You're out of your goddamn mind," the dog sighed, shaking his head.

"Aren't we all?" Roland said, much more like a statement than a question.

The shuttle roared to life as it accelerated forward. Air traffic was busy around these parts, and while the pair usually enjoyed flying, the current circumstances made the sensation of lunging and pressure more nauseating than thrilling. They ascended to a point beyond all the smog and the clouds that blanketed the city's highest towers.

Looking down at the city below was like peering into the heart of a cave. Bioluminescent life forms lived between the cracks and crevices, deceptively beautiful with their vibrant mystique in a world of black. The cave creatures were ravenous beings, living superfluous, indulgent, and often short lives. In their nests of silk, they ensnared all that remained untouched, binding threads about these victims tighter and tighter until they would never again escape the confines of the cave. It assumes the form of an all-consuming pit, inhabitants even forgetting there was ever such a thing beyond it. A world outside may become unimaginable, for many were born into these nests-- some being the carnivore weaving them, and others being the prey woven in.

The city towers, with their sprawling fluorescent billboards and their glowing neon lights, were the dominant luminance in the landscape. Even above the thickest layers of the smoky haze, the stars were so difficult to make out. The night sky was only truly known through the clarity of astrophotography, and the occasional off-world images transmitted digitally.

It was this swath of pollution and debris left over from the Burgundy War that weeded out the weak in the early days-- the impoverished weak, that is. If one could afford to tend to their health, they could afford to live in the post-war world. Still, it was never a good idea to spend too much time outside, breathing it all in. Doing so could significantly impact one's lifespan. Thus, most buildings and vehicles were equipped with air filtration systems-- though the best technology was reserved for the higher members of society.

Roland, like many, was born too late to witness the events of the Burgundy War. It was named for the blazing red summer sky in the north, and the blood that stained the fresh snow in the south. This was all when insurgents used to fight back, and they still did after the war for a little while. It was a different time. The details were hazy and difficult to recall accurately for most people, in spite of the war having indisputably affected every living being after its conclusion. The here and now mattered more than what was commonly considered past strife.

"Goddamnit, Roland. It's getting blood all over my seats!" The dog groaned.

"My seats, Jan." Technically, the shuttle belonged to Roland, but Jannick fawned over it so frequently, one would think it was his.

"It might as well be mine! Who's always driving it? Always cleaning it? Fixing it up?"

Roland fell silent. He would clean it up later. This was his mess now.

The shuttle decelerated as the pair neared their residence near the sea wall. It was a townhouse Roland had inherited from his father, mostly remote and quite charming in its older style of architecture. At one point, the Everetts were considered nobility. However, when his father took his last breath, so did their family's affluence. The manor in which Roland had spent his childhood was demolished to make room for more dwelling units.

They descended into the landing pad, and the shuttle whisked to a halt. Jannick scowled, flinging the door open and strutting out as soon as it powered down. He left towards the house, not waiting a second for Roland to catch up.

Once Jannick was inside, the wolf took a look towards the back seat. He was met with wide eyes that shot downwards as soon as they met his. She had been silent the whole flight, and if it weren't for Jannick's complaints, he could have almost forgotten she was there.

In truth, Roland wasn't sure why he did it. He shouldn't feel anything for the girl. Like Jannick said, she was only a whore, serving one of the several roles her kind was born to fulfill-- and one of the easier roles at that. The wolf was not one to act on impulse. Jannick took that on enough for the both of them. He tried to grasp at what exactly compelled him to cut the chains away and drag their captive to his shuttle. It wasn't lust or hunger that he felt-- rather, something else he figured would be dangerous to contemplate for too long.

"Come on now", Roland said, awkwardly. He spoke slowly, unsure if the cow even spoke his language. He was not completely sure how to address her, either. Of course, there were the common, derogatory ways, but they somehow didn't feel quite right to use.

She didn't move. Roland hopped out of the shuttle, closing his door and opening hers. He stepped aside for her to pass, holding out an arm in encouragement.

The cow hesitated. She looked around frantically, from him, to the house ahead of her, down to her lap, and then forward again. She hesitated, pulse quickening as she scooted forward. Her cloven toes clicked against the asphalt. As soon as she steadied herself to her feet, the girl took off running.

"No," Roland snapped, lunging forward and grabbing her by the arm. She struggled, writhing about, pushing helplessly against him, and whining when she twisted a limb too far in the wrong way. His claws tightened into her flesh in an effort to steady her, and she jerked backward, nearly falling over.

"Enough."

Roland raised a hand and slapped her across the face. She took a sharp gasp, and froze. His grip loosened and his hands returned to his sides.

"Get inside," the wolf sighed. "Quickly. It's cold out. I don't suppose you'd like to wander the streets and freeze to death-- if nobody gets to you first, that is. Now, go on."

The girl nodded, walking ahead of him as the two approached the house. It was warm inside the house, and the air was easier to breathe. She hadn't been outside much of her life, so the air pollution was even harder for her to stand than anybody who had lived an average life. The factories were always horrible, smelling of blood, piss, shit, vomit, infection, and other unpleasant things depending on where you went, but the air outside felt like inhaling a cocktail of the burning industrial byproducts. The stench was something of a mixture of singed rubber, tar, sulfur, smoke, and the exhaust of thousands of shuttles. It brought a deep, suffocating burn in her lungs-- heavy and thick. She was glad to be inside, no matter what might await her there.

As she passed through the halls, the girl took note of her surroundings. On one wall hung a painting that caught her attention. It looked like a scene from a fairy tale, with rolling green hills and trees that sprouted colorful fruit. She had never actually seen anything like it-- the scenery she knew was only imagined from whatever she could gather when stories were shared among her kin. It was mainly her mother who would tell her about the times of the past and the beautiful world that once was. She could hardly recall her mother's face, but she still knew her stories by heart. She knew, too, of the fabled place beyond the stars, green and bountiful just like this earth once was, and how it awaited them all.

Roland walked to the kitchen, the cow following closely behind him. There, he found Jannick, who was busy fixing himself a sandwich. He looked up at the wolf and scoffed.

"I don't understand you sometimes."

"We could use a maid to keep the house sharp while we're out," Roland proposed, gesturing to the girl.

"Whatever," Jannick grumbled. "It's not like we'll even need this place in a couple of months."

Roland was silent, but not without plenty of thoughts of negotiation. It was a better choice to leave his annoyances unvoiced. The dog would accept his choice now, and likely forget that he was ever angry in a week or so from then.

"I'm going out," Jannick said. "Straight to Boss Cotton so we can collect our pay."

"Alright."

"You're not coming?"

Roland looked at him for a long while, then shook his head with his eyes set on the floor.

Jannick scoffed and ran a hand through his hair, exasperated. He disappeared around the corner and started on his way back out.