FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

"NO, NO YE PROMISED... YE PROMISED YE RAT FOOKIN' BASTARD YE PROMISED ME!"

The girl's screams rang out from a throat so hoarse blood flecked her lips, screaming herself nearly mute with rage, loss, agony as she watched Bart's form crumple beneath Parias' blade, gushing blood... so, so much blood. She was nearly over the wall in spite of the clash and roar of battle around her, scrambling in a mad, wild-eyed frenzy towards where her Big Brother laid at the mercy of a monster, both slowly disappearing further and further into the trees. She very nearly made it as a pair of strong hands grabbed her about the middle, and another arrested her movement with a handful of her cloak and garb, pulling her back from the brink.

"NO! NO, BART!" She shrieked, mad and unhinged she began to lash about at those whom held her with fists, nails, and even teeth. Working her way free to a fusillade of curses from those struck, clawed or bitten, she lunged for the wall again, raw, unfettered murder on her mind before another pair of strong hands grasped her at the very last moment, snatching her back mid-leap from the parapet, one arm around her middle, the other crossed firmly over her chest. She screamed something inarticulate, pure fury and the rage of loss driving her, she snapped her teeth down into the bare, calloused hand across her chest, biting down true and deep with her sidheborn fangs and too-sharp teeth. She felt the flesh cut, the taste and sickly texture of blood flooded her mouth as she drove them deeper in rage, directing all of it at this man so foolish as to stop her, to handle her bare-handed. A hiss of pain was what she got back, and the voice above her did no so much bellow as raise his voice above the din like a trumpet.

"Get them back from the walls! Defensive positions! Into the breech! Seal it up by God or we'll lose the entire citadel!" The voice was crisp, commanding, and clear -- it put the steel back into the spines of the surrounding men even as he wrestled her back from the edge of the parapet, her inhuman canines digging all the deeper as she thrashed uselessly against the soldier's iron-like grasp. She bit harder, snarling through tears as she was dragged back and a voice came to her -- close to her ear, quiet and tense with pain.

"I need that hand, if you're quite finished worrying at me like a little Redcap stumbled out of the wood."

She froze, there was pain in that voice, obviously -- but it was calm, assertive and... understanding. She sobbed a bit, and the taste of blood suddenly was overwhelming, gagging her and she pulled her teeth from his hand, spitting and retching a bit as her ire petered out into agonized despair.

"He... he..." she sobbed, her voice coming in sucking gasps as tears poured down her cheeks and blood down her mouth; "He... promised... he promised he'd take care o' me... an'... an'..." she cut off in another wail as she doubled over. The feeling of loss fresh in her mind, cutting open new and old wounds all at once. Around them was chaos, the fighting persisted and the men-at-arms made to shore up their cracked defenses, the army outside was rushing the walls now and the din of battle was a growing roar in her ears as she stared off towards that opening in the trees, towards the still-visible, too-long smear of blood...

"He... he... promised..." she moaned piteously, chest hiccuping with desperate sobs as she sank down to her knees, teeth gnashing as she screwed her eyes shut, burying her face in her hands as a new wave of terror and loathing washed over her. He couldn't leave her alone again...

"Knight-Brothers of the order do not die easily," the man said as he laid his hands on her again -- gently this time, in spite of the bleeding gash where she'd bitten him. He squeezed her shoulders and she felt more than saw him kneel, his voice close to her ear again so to be heard over the renewed crash of combat; "Take heart, he would not be the first of The Radiant Order to seem slain only to rise again in spite of injury," he continued and his tone was comforting in it's pragmatism and certainty, "They are a sturdy lot, the Lady makes them so."

Lidia sobbed and turned her face up to the man, tears and blood smearing her along with the remains of the muck and grime they'd concealed themselves with. He was handsome, she thought at once, his face visible behind a raised visor. Strong Darrowmite features looked down at her, a straight, hawkish nose, sharp cheekbones and a sturdy chin complete with a cleft complimented his drooping mustaches well. Bright blue eyes gleamed under heavy, dark brows -- eyes that widened noticeably as they met her own, their too-large, almond-shaped depths slit up the middle like a cat painting her as always as the other.

"It seems Little Redcap was a prophetic appellation," he said after a moment, and she couldn't help but laugh a little, chest heaving with silent sobs as her grief boiled up out of her in a constant pouring of tears.

"A-aye... nae th' first time I been called that..." she said, memories of her little gang, the Tanner Street Redcaps, readily coming to mind... along with the grief of their loss as well. She may be the very last of them left.

"Very well, then it suits you, Little Redcap," he said, eyes looking up and flicking about wildly; "My name is Gram, titles and rank are all a bit much for this moment," he added, extending his hand, the bloodied one -- the four deep punctures where her sidheborne fangs had sliced into his flesh oozing even as he smiled, "It's dangerous here, let me take you somewhere safer,"

She stared at that hand, realizing he'd taken his gauntlets off so as not to hurt her, spying them tucked into his belt, quite a risk to avoid harming her -- one he'd paid for. That shook her well enough out of the despairing malaise that had settled over her mind, and with a wet sniffle, she nodded, taking his hand and letting him pull her away from the din of battle and the screams of the damned and dying...

~ ~ ~

Sunlight warmed her face, stirring her from slumber, the dreamy memories fading with a familiar ache, a pang of despair remembered washing through her as she slowly came back. Pain lanced through her head and she winced -- and a familiar hand laid across her cheek, now with four, neat little scars in the back of it. A tremble of pleasure ran through her as that now-beloved hand slid down her cheek and along her jawline, parting the mess of red hair away from her face.

Gram. Sweet, dependable Gram.

"Hey there, loverboy..." she whispered weakly, smiling up at him. The cart rocked beneath them, the two riding in the back of it alone, Martin and the Sisters sitting near the reins or walking ahead. They were mostly clear of the wood, and far afield of Baba Yaga's domain, as the summer sun poured through the rare gaps in the tall canopy.

"Hey there, Little Redcap," he said, stroking her cheek again. Her hand caught his, and drew the scarred limb back to her lips, where she kissed them fondly, looking up at him around his half-curled fingers with luminous green eyes.

"This lil' tangle seems a mite familiar," she teased softly, the dreamy atmosphere cracking as she saw the strange egg swaying at his breast, reality crystallizing around her with inexorable weight. Gram was not having it, and with a single smile -- he pushed the pressures of the world back just a bit longer.

"A thousand similar moments in a scant few months, all of them precious," he agreed, caressing her face with both hands now, cupping her cheeks as she looked up from where her head rested in his lap, a shudder ran through her and she let her eyes flutter back closed -- and she simply allowed him to touch her. It was as intimate as anything if not as much as she'd like, his gentle, calloused fingers cupped her cheeks, stroked down her cheekbones and throat. Simply feeling her, touching her with a simplicity that made her heart ache.

She'd done it. She'd saved him, even if only for a while. Her reward was this: his hands upon her flesh again, safe from whatever curses nested in her misbegotten flesh. Flesh he loved, flesh he treasured.

She lay there with him like that for a long while, and the sunbeams became more common as they reached the further edges of the primeval forest. She saw none of it but bits between slitted eyes, her senses focused on the man who held her, but reality would intrude as she shifted slowly around to rest against him, cheek on his chest, fingers laced with his. She glanced down and noticed her trousers were gone, replaced with an ill-fitting pair from the extra garments brought for Gram.

"Ah there was... an accident, when Baba Yaga worked her magic upon you. Brenan and the Sisters dressed you while Martin helped me put things in order," Gram explained, and she blushed brightly with embarrassment, groaning and burying her face in his neck.

"Oh ye gods I pissed meself in front o' the man I love an' a fookin' fairy queen."

"To be fair, she had just pulled part of your immortal soul out of your mouth."

Lidia only groaned louder at that, kicking her feet in a little childish fit of frustration as she peered up at him from around the shielding cloth of his collar, hideously embarrassed. Still, he smiled at her and only gave her a wink.

"Once, when I was a boy, all fresh and bright-eyed, I went out for a ride before lunch. It was a hot summer day on the steppes, so I brought a whole skin of water, drank the entire thing while I bounced and jounced in a saddle for what felt like hours across our lands," he began, threading his free hand around her, stroking it through her hair as they pulled themselves into a closer, intimate clutch.

"I returned home expecting a meal and some news from my father -- and instead was greeted by total bedlam, there was an Imperial Envoy out before our estate, apparently a surprise inspection of the border territories and their facilities for tax and records," he said, and Lidia's eyes widened a bit, "So I was shuttled off, bladder full to dress and then stand at attention like a good nobleman's son for the entire ordeal as we were weighed and measured as a Barony in the eyes of the Imperial Treasury."

"Oh no," The little changeling gasped, and Gram grinned at her ruefully.

"Three hours I stood in attendance with a whole skin of water trying to make its way out of me, heavy formal wear and tight hose making it five times worse. By then I couldn't manage it, and my will gave out."

"... ye pissed yerself in front of an Imperial Envoy..."

"And my father, mother, brothers, the Captain of the House Guard, and at least a dozen servants, all got to watch me darken my hose with a completely straight face, and then quietly ask to be excused."

"Dinnae ye think tae ask before?" she queried, and he laughed.

"Oh Darrowmite court affairs are not to be put off, and the Imperial Treasury is a den of small men whom think themselves terribly important, we were to all stand at attention in his presence as he and his agents made a record of our resources and affairs, so we did not engage in any skullduggery in our father's name," he explained with a snort.

"An' ye want tae make me part o' this lovely system?" she asked with mock offense in her tone, the tall Nobleman smiling back at her.

"Well, it cannot be that much worse than having your soul yanked out your mouth."

She laughed, the first genuine laughter she'd managed since he collapsed. Silvery, joyous, and true.