FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

"Shit..." The word kept running through Zanders' head over and over again as he sized up the massive beast before him. Zanders wasn't normally one to dread much, rising to a slightly higher than average six foot one, this anthropomorphic wolf didn't literally look up to most. He was leanly muscled, strong, but built mostly for speed and maneuverability. Wisps of indigo hair draped over deep golden eyes. Fur, black and short covered his entire body. His attire was simple enough, merely a pair of grey pants tucked into silver ankle bracers.

Most would have a similar reaction to his current predicament. Around him a den, dark and slightly musty was just large enough for this foe to be a threat. The cave was fairly barren, a pile of hay in one corner, a low burning fire nearby, and only one exit. Therein laid the problem, between Zanders and this exit stood a massive feral dragon. At least it appeared to be feral, the beast communicated with some intellect though, speaking basic as anthros did. The dragon had one aim, and that was the demise of the wolf he now stalked.

The two weren't alone in the cavern, two rival packs of wolves watched the standoff; these wolves where feral however, walking about on all fours and speaking in growls and grunts understood by few. They seemed to act as audience for this event, all intently watching the scene before them. The two packs had made a circle around the inside of the den. One pack looked to Zanders as their alpha male, the leader of the pack. The other, opposing group of feral wolves followed their own alpha, a wolf by the name of Core.

Zanders' golden eyes slowly scanned the area, possible angles of attack and defense racing through his mind and just as quickly their faults and weakness recognized. This dragon had many obvious strengths; its size, those scales, its strength. There had to be a way to defeat it, no enemy was unbeatable.

Attacking first would give him the element of surprise, and the choice of how the battle would start. If he let the dragon make the first move though, it would be much easier to use its attack against it. Zanders knew with most opponents the trick was to create a perceived weakness in his defense, baiting an attack where he was expecting it. This wouldn't work presently though; the dragon didn't attack with logic, truly more of a berserker. The many possibilities where mulled over again and again. Choices made quickly, for speed was key in battle. He would wait for the creature to attack.

Zanders wasn't kept waiting long, the massive lizard-like creature charged forward, a scaly, clawed paw lifted and swung at Zanders. The wolf shifted his center of gravity downwards, crouching slightly as the beast came at him. The powerful swing caught only air as Zanders pushed him self backwards. His back paw quickly planted into the dirt of the cave to kill his backwards momentum. With a brief skid of his feet the wolf's direction was reversed sending him towards the dragon just as the swipe whizzed before him. This maneuver put him on the outside of the creature's attack the dragon's own strength keeping moving away from the now advancing canine. As he advanced Zanders' paw fluidly withdrew a small dagger from a discrete sheath at his side. A swift jab followed, the dagger impacting with the creature's side, just below its arm.

Such an attack would have normally been flawless, sinking deep into most animal's chests, but fate would not have it. Upon impact the blade merely shattered against the dragon's scales. A development which certainly wasn't expected and the delay that surprise brought was regrettable. The creature's other paw came at the wolf and swatted him firmly. A rag doll of a wolf flew across the cave and slammed into the stone before crumpling to the ground.

Zanders quivered in pain as he forced himself to his feet, blood trickled from the side of his mouth, dripping to the dusty floor. The dragon wasn't done yet, however, it arched its back, large wings folding up as far as the cave would allow. An unworldly breeze stirred in the cavern, slowly picking up speed and swirling towards an invisible point in-between the dragon's wings. A glowing orb soon began to form in the vortex of the wind, growing and surging faster and faster.

"Magic..." Zanders muttered, an obvious tone of distaste dripping from his word. The wolf knew there had to be a reason why his blade shattered so easily on those scales. This beast didn't just out match Zanders in strength, but it bolstered magic as well. The convenience of this whole incident wasn't lost on Zanders. This beast had no business in these parts to begin with, and it came with the one weapon Zanders hated the most. It was too convenient indeed. It was doubtful to the wounded canine that this beast was here on its own accord. His mind instantly thought of Core and his pack of wolves, who had showed up just in time to watch this spectacle. The other alpha male certainly had reason to want him dead, but how could he have recruited a dragon to help him?

There wasn't anymore time for this line of thought now though, hesitation had lost him distance and time, time he needed to get back. Once again the wolf lowered himself towards the ground, retrieving two of the throwing knives he kept tucked in his ankle bracers. His muscular thigh pushed off the ground sending him at the creature with a burst of speed.

The dragon's spiked tail swung in defense, though it was easy enough to dodge. His weight shifted, movement following suit so that the extremity would narrowly miss. The wolf's off foot now planted, sending him back along his original trajectory. Zanders launched into the air, arms arching back and snapping forwards sending two the two blades flinging towards this beast. One blade caught the creature's attention, flying towards the orb of magic which it was trying to protect. It swiveled a wing to intercept the flying blade, which reflected off it with the ricochet sound of metal on metal. It had served its purpose, merely a diversion. The second, slightly delayed, knife sank into the creature's distracted eye, rupturing its sensory organ. The dragon roared, grabbing at its injured eye with its massive paws.

Zanders, still in flight, landed atop the beast's head and charged towards the orb it was creating. If he could just get close enough, maybe he could interrupt its creation. He scampered his way down the spiny back of the dragon and jumped towards the orb.

The wolf was seconds too late. Despite its injury, the dragon completed its orb, which flew at Zanders with a speed that only magic could imbue. The magic surrounded Zanders, fur burning, flesh searing. The corners of his mouth arched upwards in a growl as he was swept up off his feet. His arm stretched outwards and grabbed a hold of one of the dragon's horns. With all his strength he pulled, magic torn body slowly being pulled from the torrent of what would surely be a fatal spell.

Freed from the maelstrom Zanders fell to the spiny top of the dragon's head. Burns and lacerations competed for his attention all over his body, but he had bigger concerns. The wolf was in for a bull ride now. The creature bucked and lurched, desperately trying to fling the wolf from atop its head. Zanders gripped tightly to the edged of a scale, so as not to be thrown from the beast. In frustration the dragon swung the only appendage it had that could reach Zanders. Its powerful tail jabbed at the wolf impacting at the base of the scale he was gripping. The power of the blow shattered the scale, fracture pieces and the canine all flying, once again, into the air. Zanders and a few pieces of scale landed hard in the dirt. The pain of the fall hit him briefly, another footnote in the mounting injuries. He let out an agonizing groan, trying desperately to push the pain to the back of his mind.

Suddenly the world spun around him and he found himself pinned against the cave's wall. His breath failed him and each effort to draw in air brought only fire to his lungs. The dragon's mighty paw held him firmly, one of its large clawed digits had pierced through the wolf's chest, destroying his right lung and jutting out his back. Blood poured out from around his newest wound, bubbling out from in his mouth as well. Pained coughs were expressed more as gurgled wheezes than anything else. His vision shook, eyes rolling about on their own, randomly taking in bits of his surroundings.

The cave began to take a reddish tint and blackness seeped in from the edges of Zanders' vision. The commotion from the previously silent spectators seemed travel away, becoming more distant. The canine began to lose lucidity in his thoughts, mind wandering from the current predicament to his past. He wasn't ready for this; it was far too soon for his death. The argument made perfect sense to him. They say when faced with death, you often see your life flash before your eyes. This is exactly what happened as the life began to fade from Zanders, his last breath slowly wafting from his lips.

* * *

Years earlier life hadn't been much easier for Zanders, despite his constant struggles he never expected himself to die in any battle or scuffle. The wolf always expected that he'd live to be an old man, and only age would take him.

He was born in a less than appealing place to a less that appealing mother. The city of Furrabia, his hometown, was a cesspool of filth, fornication and broken dreams. This city and its surrounding lands where known far and wide and the red light district of Furcadia. Sex was the industry here; everyone knew it. A jaunt down any street could put you at the doors of bordellos and bars for any taste or fetish. That was the appeal to the many patrons. This was a place where you could come and have your wildest fantasies come true. Sometimes for free, sometimes for a price. Slave traders and prostitutes made their homes here, after all this is where they could have a shot at making them selves known or disappearing almost entirely.

This was the place Zanders' mother had chosen to make her home. She was, after all, a prostitute. The woman made her living pleasing who ever had the money. Growing up Zanders never knew exactly how much money that was, but judging from her usual customers, it probably didn't take too much.

His birth was by no means planned. From birth he was an inconvenience to his mother. No hooker in their right mind would want the baggage of a child. Sure one could be useful when they got older, but raising them was quite a hassle. Zanders never knew why she kept him. It wouldn't have been hard to toss him out, or even frowned upon in this city.

She did the bare minimum when it came to raising him, if that. As a boy the wolf was often left on his own for shelter, food or water. It was only when some medial task was needed of him that his mother would show any affection towards him, briefly winning him with hope until he had accomplished what was needed.

It's strange how the mind works. With the treatment he got, most would have just ran away and have been done with a mother as soon as possible. Zanders stayed though. It wasn't as though he loved her; he just had no where else to be, nothing else he knew. Though wandering the streets would soon lead him to a discovery that would change his life forever.

The young wolf was wandering the streets in search of scraps for a meal. His nose sniffed from refuse bin to garbage can for anything he could get a few bites out of. Walking by a dim alley his attention was caught by a crowd down the way. Despite his hunger curiosity led him towards the commotion.

Thirty or so people stood tightly packed in a circle, gripping tightly at bags of coin. The furries jeered and shouted at the spectacle they had all come for. Zanders pushed his way through crowd, peering into the center of the group. There a burly feline was squaring off with his match in bulk on a mutt of a canine. The boy had stumbled upon a backstreet fight. Coins were passed around, bets placed for which of the contenders would come out victorious.

Wide eyed Zanders took in every step of the brawl, each swing, and every bloody impact of fist upon face. These fights were grungy tussles of pure strength and brutal violence. Upon the conclusion he couldn't help but see himself there, standing in the middle of the circle, foot atop vanquished foe.

"I can do this..." Zanders thought to him self, pushing him self into the circle as an instigated called out for the next rival. A roar of laughter soon followed as the crowd saw the small wolf step up. Taunts and insults didn't deter him; however, he was determined to take on the massive feline.

Entertainment mattered most of the group and the referee called for the fight to begin just as soon as the previous loser had been cleared from the circle. The length of Zanders' first fight could have been measured in seconds. A crippling fist backed by massive muscles mercilessly met with his jaw line.

Hours later the wolf woke bloodied and swollen. He had been discarded along the side of the alley and the fights had long since been over. Pain met every miniscule movement of his face. The simple task of even looking out of his eyes was painful. Injured both in body and pride he continued foraging. Zanders was determined to find the strength to win in those fights.

The next few days and weeks he began to devote more and more time to his goal. The wolf focused only on training and finding food. He sought out street fights each and every day, watching from a far as the combatants bloodied each other. It wasn't the spectacle he was after. The young canine watched their strategies, watching each fighter's different styles and implementing them in his training. He mimicked those that he saw worked well, noting the ones that seemed to give a certain fighter an advantage over the others.

Zanders' confidence grew with each passing day. He memorized combination of moves, planning attacks and possible defense strategies in his head. For the time being his opponents remained inanimate; the wolf used whatever he could find. Garbage cans, discarded pieces of wood and cloth, even walls where necessary.

In order to better train himself he began to collect pieces of garbage that might be useful. An old broom handle here, a torn sack here, soon these items could be fashioned into a crude boxing dummy. More importantly he grew used to having the extra weight on his body. Muscles bulked up, making his load easier to carry. His speed and endurance increased as well adding to his physical abilities.

The usual spectators at the street fights had long grown used to seeing the kid hanging around taking mental notes of the combat. For the most part they ignored him, caring more for combat they had come for. One day that all changed.

It was a night like any other, the dimly lit alley bustling with all sorts of unsavory characters looking for a good show.

"Who's gunna be our first contender today?" The gruff voice of the referee challenged the crowd.

A few names were shouted out, all but drowned out by the excitement in the circle. One voice shouted above the others, catching both the referee and Zanders' ear.

"What about the kid? I wanna see him get his ass kicked again!" The anonymous spectator called out.

"Yeah, get him in here!" Another chimed in.

Soon a large portion of the group called for Zanders to enter the circle. He was shocked by this turn of events and could feel fear creeping into his mind. He wasn't ready for this, he needed more time to practice. These brutes where twice his height, how could he beat any of them? They didn't care one way or another, the group had decided they wanted to see something, and that's exactly what was going to happen.

Paws gripped at him, pulling him reluctantly into their center. Adults towered around him, taunting and laughing at the thought of the fight to come. Zanders was almost panicked, he drew in slow breaths trying to calm his self. Closing his eyes he tried to focus back on his practice and prepare of the inevitable event.

Zanders young golden eyes slowly opened back to reveal his appointed opponent. A somewhat squat and muscled rat stood before him. The mustiline swung his arms in the air, calling for the crowd to make more noise, the volume of they alley rising with his direction. The mass went wild; sure they were in for a great show.

The rodent soon turned his attention back to the young wolf. Zanders fists lifted, one hovering slight in front of the other. His paws cupped loosely in balls, ready to swing. A chuckle came from the rat, soon followed by a powerful, but clumsy, blow in Zanders' direction.

Time seemed to slow as the fist flew his direction. His mind wanted to freeze, to run, to avoid the situation somehow. He reeled it in though, focusing all his attention on the incoming attack. Body shifted backwards, abs tightening to hold his weight up and allow his torso to lean and avoid the fist. The rodent's paw continued on, missing its mark and carried through by the momentum driving it. Zanders let his wait pivot around in a full circle bringing him back to an upright position. Now he was quick to retort, his own fist flinging with his fury. The impacts of his blows weren't particularly powerful, but they had found the exposed side of the rat. He peppered the soft side with punch after punch, causing his opponent to cry out and stumble backwards.

Confidence over took the young wolf and he darted forwards aiming for the mustiline's midsection again. His fists never found their mark, however. A crushing blow smashed across his jaw, sending him reeling. Zanders fell to the stone floor, grimacing. The pain shot through his jaw, causing his whole head to ache. Cupping his cheek all he could think about was the pain, at least until a powerful foot stomped down upon his gut. More pain bolted through the wolf, snapping his focus back to his opponent.

Zanders rolled to the right, avoiding yet another stomp from the enraged rodent. The canine scrambled to his feet, regaining his balance and forcing pain out of his mind. He strafed to the side, pummeling his enemy's side once again with blow after blow. This time, however, as the rat retreated from his attack, Zanders stamped his foot down, pinning the closest retreating foot and preventing an immediate escape. This caused the rodent to stumble backwards; his arms flailing and leaving his midsection open for punishment.

Zanders was quick to deliver all the pain he could to the exposed weak point. Rapid successions of impacts knocked the wind out of his already hurting opponent. The rat buckled over, gripping at his stomach. With his head lowered, it was now easily within the smaller canine's reach. Gritting his teeth, Zanders' arm arched backwards flying at the mustiline's face with all his might. The impact created an audible crunch, resounding over the shouts of their spectators. Bone met bone and with the force of the collision both gave way. The targeted nose broke, blood spraying across the arena. In turn, the bones of the young wolf's fist gave way, adding the sick noise.

Gripping his paw in pain Zanders lifted a foot, delivering a final blow to his foe's head. The vanquished rat collapsed, blood dripping from his face. Consciousness had left him and the fight was over. A moment of silence fell over the horde before chaos erupted. This was not the outcome anyone had expected. The din of the crowd didn't matter to Zanders though. A grin spread across his face. He had done it, he had won the fight!

"What's your name, boy?" The referee asked, preparing to address the group.

"Z..Zanders..." He stuttered, still in shock from his victory.

"We got a winner here, ya bastards! The underdog, Zanders!" The referee yelled out, forcing Zanders' wounded paw in the air to cement his triumph.

The wolf took in the crowd, head spinning from exhilaration.

"Zanders! Zanders! Zanders!" The mob cheered over and over again. "Zanders! Zanders! Zanders...."

* * *

"Zanders... Zanders..." A voice faintly seemed to call to him as his last breath slowly exhaled from his tore lungs. Pain dulled into the distance, the whole world following suit and fading away.

Darkness ensued, a void of sound, sight and feeling. He was vaguely aware of the world. Time seemed to accelerate. He could tell events were happening, living things were around him. The warmth of the world was like a note so faint you were never quite sure you actually heard it.

Once again the darkness set in deep around him. That connection to the world severed, unresponsive. Time seemed to pass in ages, or was it mere seconds. It seemed impossible to tell that time even existed until that raspy, yet somehow comforting voice began to fill his head.

"Zanders... Zanders..." It volume grew with each repetition, "Zanders... ZANDERS!"

The wolf sat up with a start, as if waking the worse dream he had even had. Light blinded him, his paw rising to shield his eyes. Slowly his retinas adjusted and he took in the world around him.

Zanders found him self no longer in the den he had last remembered. It was clear he was no where near that place. Rolling hills of emerald grass swept across a lush valley. Trees accenting the landscape and tapering into a forest in the distance. Snow capped mountains framed what could only be described as a divine scene. Down below in the valley he could see the makings of a village surrounding a glimmering white castle. The fortress was epic, proud towers and regal gates all trimmed in gold that shimmered in the sunshine.

The wolf slowly pulled himself upright, examining his immediate surroundings for threats. The area seemed void of anything but serene wildlife and foliage. A path caught his eye. It winded its way downwards, leading toward the village below. He began to walk along it, following the dirt road down the hill.

"Where the hell am I?" He wondered aloud, recalling the dire situation he last remembered being in, he couldn't help but be confused at his current state.

"You're dead!" An uninvited and cheerful voice answered him.

Trained ears quickly found the source of the sound and he turned to face the being that produced its self from behind a large tree. Large white wings adorned an otherwise normal looking Doberman. His clothes were simple and elegant, giving him a royal appearance.

"The hell I am!" Zanders shot back, though in the back of his mind he wasn't so sure about it.

"Sure you are! I watched you die. I'd been waiting for it for quite some time. You see, it was my job to wait for you to arrive here."

"Then that would make this heaven?" Zanders said with a chuckle.

"Sure..." The being's response was less than convincing. "Regardless, that dragon did kill you and you are here now."

Zanders' mind shot back to the fight that seemed so distant now. That dragon's claw had pierced his chest. Could this furrie be telling the truth?

"How the hell do you know all that?"

"I told you, it was my job to watch you and wait for you. So now I've got to take you and see him." The angelic canine answered.

"'Him', who?"

"You'll just have to wait and see." Was all the Doberman replied, grinning at his little secret.

With that, he began to walk off down the trail, leaving Zanders to decide if to follow or not. After a moment of hesitation Zanders ran after the other canine, catching up and matching pace with him. The two walked onwards, making their way towards the ever looming castle in front of them.

"How can I be here if I'm dead, I seriously doubt this is heaven or hell!" He questioned the other.

"Well, I am an angel if that helps your thought process any. Though I only look the way I do to you. All you mortals have your own expectations of what the afterlife and those who inhabit it look like. This land that you see before you is something of a simplistic version of his ideal world." The winged dog replied, "To think any mortal would even have a chance of understanding or perceiving true perfection." A laughed was emitted.

"So why does 'he' have you brining me to where ever the hell we're going?" Zanders interrogated the other furrie.

"Simple enough... You, like many before you, could potentially serve his purpose in some manor." Angelic wings twitched as he responded, "He rewards well, you should know."

By this point in their conversation the two passed between massive gates outside the impressive castle. Every wall was even more amazing up close. Pure white was only interrupted by even more beautiful gold. A strange silence surrounded the place, however, the usual hustle and bustle of castle life was no where to be found.

The two canines continued inwards, pushing through large wooden doors and making their way deep in the centre of the castle. One last set of doors gave way to a massive throne room, a single towering throne highlighted at the end of the room.

Seated upon the chair was a large being, though his species seemed impossible to detect. Incredible lengths of wings extended out from behind him adding to his dominating presence in the room. Small imp like creatures hurried about him, doing medial tasks and grooming.

"Welcome." The creature's large booming voice echoing through the mighty halls. A large paw moved in a welcoming gesture, deep penetrating eyes focusing on Zanders.

The addressed canine stood firm despite the intimidating presence now taking an interest in him. "Who are you?"

Sitting up in his chair he was quick to answer, "I believe you know me as Lucifer."

Zanders couldn't help grin, stifling a laugh at the other's comment. He gave a sideways glance at his Doberman escort who seemed just as serious as the one seated in the throne. "Well you excuse my skepticism... This doesn't exactly look like hell, and you sure don't look a thing like the devil."

Lucifer didn't seem surprised by his lack of belief. "Mortals are poisoned by thoughts of an ultimate evil, a twisted antichrist who just wants your immortal soul." His eyes burned with a passion as he spoke. "I am no demon, I am an angel. Being removed from heaven, my home, doesn't change that."

Zanders listened intently, "So you don't want my immortal soul?"

It was the devil's turn to laugh, a booming chuckle, "Not exactly. In fact I want to give you your life back."

"Now why would you want to do that?"

"Well..." The angelic figure explained, "I didn't say it wouldn't have its costs. I don't want your immortal soul. What do you think separates me from every other angel that was kicked out of heaven with me?" He hesitated only a moment before answering his own question. "The difference is that I... have an army!" He waves a paw in a circular motion, effortlessly summoning a swirling vortex which formed on the floor in front of Zanders. The cloudy torrent soon began to materialize images of countless furries living out lives.

"All your life you've heard that hell was this horrible place where you'd burn for all eternity for sins." A grin spread over Lucifer's lips, revealing wicked teeth beneath. "If God had his way, it still would be. What use is that to me though? How am I to win the hearts of all his children if all I can promise is parlor tricks and eternal punishment? I can give so much more though. Look at my subjects, all happy either waiting in some paradise of their design, or returned to the mortal world to live as they see fit."

"So what's the catch then?" Zanders inquired.

"There is so little I ask for in return. An army isn't much use if it's not well trained and massive. So it's simple... In return for your life in the mortal world you will fight in my army when the time comes. You'll return immortal, free to roam the world until called upon. The only other thing I ask is that while enjoying this wondrous gift you keep your skills honed and maybe cause a little trouble for the other side. God's angels are always trying to keep order and I do love a little chaos."

The wolf raised a brow as Lucifer explained his proposal, asking, "So I just fight in your army and start a few bar fights?"

Lucifer's rumbling voice carried on, "I hope someone with your track record could be more creative then that, Zanders. If I recall correctly you have been responsible for quite a few deaths in your time. That is the basic idea, however."

"Alright, fuck it... and the dragon that killed me? Do I get a shot at him?"

"I knew I had you watched for a reason, keep that spirit alive." The angelic being grinned, "I think you'll find a great many things have changed when you return; both with the world and yourself. Seek your killer if you wish, but don't consume yourself with it."

A moment of hesitation brought Zanders next thought, "So how do I go back?"

Lucifer stood suddenly, towering over all the in room. His mighty paw clenched, wings spreading their length to either side. "Well, my newest soldier, you simply..."

* * *

"Wake up! Wake up Zanders!" The crowd shouted, stirring the adolescent canine from his unconscious state. The ache in his jaw reminded him of his situation. He was sprawled across the cobble stone alley. The last blow brought the familiar taste of blood to his mouth and a dizzying sensation to his head.

"C'mon kid! I've got my money on you!" Some unknown patron yelled franticly. "You better not lose me my money!"

Zanders reassessed his situation. Slowly advancing across the area towards him lumbers a massive equine. The anthropomorphic horse was rippling with strength, muscles bulging all over his body. His opponent towered over him, easily many head taller. So far all the wolf's attacks on the brute had been futile. He had simply shook them off and retorted with his own brand of punishment.

Scrambling to his feet he kept moving, strafing right and left. He had to keep moving, if the thug landed another hit like the last he might not make it out of this circle. There had to be some way he could take him down, some weakness he could exploit. So many combatants before this one had fallen before Zanders; surely he could find a way to take this one down as well.

That's when the idea him, his eyes noticing a patch of the animal's shirt which was torn, hanging loose. Just as quickly as the thought flashed through his mind he acted on it. Dashing forwards he met the equine mid ring. Swift ducts cleared him of two more vigorous swings. Reaching out he grabbed the lose piece of cloth and continued his trajectory past the horse. Once past the slowly turning creature he circled around behind, tearing a swath of his shirt off around the torso. The large furrie tried to spin and follow Zanders, but found that his bulk was a disadvantage in this situation. The wolf was far quicker and more maneuverable. As he rounded the opposite side of the brute Zanders gave a firm tug on the cloth, freeing it from the rest of the shirt and leaving him with a length of fabric.

Feet platted in against the ground and quickly pushed off, reversing the canine's direction. His opponent was already having hard enough time keeping track of the swift smaller animal. He spun slowly in confusion trying to face and pummel Zanders.

Still running he moved away from the horse, leaning down and snatching a small stick off the ground. He slowly let himself come to a stop, briefly focusing on tying the cloth to the stick. As he finished his task the brute had found his quarry and was once again charging.

Zanders held his ground, the enraged beast raise both paws high above his head, fingers entwined and came smashing down toward the wolf. An excited gasp rose up from the spectators, was he really just going to stand there and take the blow?

The fists smashed mightily against the cobble stones, kicking up a cloud of dust into the air. They had missed their intended target, who had jumped backwards at the last possible second. Through the settling dust everyone could see the young canine waste no time. He charged up the arms that now conveniently made a ramp right to the equine's head.

Enraged the creature reared back, but it was too late. Zanders dashed past his head, letting the stick side of his cloth fly by the opposite side. Swinging around and bracing himself against the muscled back Zanders let the two piece of cloth tangle, twisting the stick so that the cloth tightened around his enemy's throat. Large equine paws tried to grasp at the constricting fabric that was quickly cutting off his airflow. Again his size worked against him; trying desperately to grab at the cloth and Zanders he found himself unable to do either.

Taunts and jeers rose up from the mob, causing a grin to spread across Zanders' face. It was just a matter of waiting before the mighty horse would fall. His air supply dwindling, the animal dropped to his knees. Desperate gasps for oxygen gave way to weaker and weaker ones. Then, with a mighty thud the brute fell to the ground. The wolf held tightly to the cloth, watching as the equine's eyes began to bug out.

There was to be no mercy in this fight, and it wasn't until long after the life had left his opponents eyes did Zanders release his grip of the fabric, standing triumphantly over the fallen foe.

The horde erupted in noise once again. Those happy for the outcome and those distraught over it meshed their voices, arguing over amounts and who bet who, what. Hundreds of fights had come before this one, but the pure feeling of exhilaration never seemed to fade.

The fight's instigator held Zanders' paw high in the air, officially naming him and the victor. After the crowd had their fill of cheering his name, he was handed a small pouch and retreated away from the fight fans to count his coin.

In retrospect the amount of money he had made, perhaps wasn't worth the work he had put in. Still, this was the easiest way for him to make money. It certainly beat digging through trash cans.

The wolf retreated to the dark corner of a dead end alley. He glanced around the area quickly, making sure he was alone Feeling along the wall the grasped at the end of a loose brick and wiggled it free from the wall, revealing his stash. Similar other pouched from other victories where hidden within and he pushed his newest bounty inside with the rest. Replacing the brick he slumped down, leaning back against the brick façade.

Zanders paw lifted to tend to his bleeding nose and mouth, muttering under his breath, "That bitch better never find this stash..." referring to his mother. For years she had taken his earning from him. At first it wasn't so bad; she was finally paying attention to him after all. As time went on it became apparent that it wasn't him but his prize money she cared about.

The canine let his head droop as the adrenaline began to leave his system. Lids became heavy with sleep and he let himself succumb to it. Around him the sounds of bustling night life lulled him off into the sweet embrace of sleep. The city continuing to live, unaware of the young wolf alone in the alley.

* * *

Darkness surrounded Zanders, pressure pushing on all sides of his body. The taste of dirt was in his mouth. The last words of Lucifer echoed in his head.

"You simply... Wake up." The fallen angel had said. Had that been a second ago, or years?

The wolf's body felt impossible to move, he began to wiggle his digits back and forth, slowly and first. He could tell he was surrounded entirely by cool damn earth. Panic started to overtake him as he worried about breath. He tried to calm himself, noting his lungs weren't burning for air despite the lack of oxygen around him.

He began to work harder to free himself. Minute movement became broader and broader as she packed the dirt around him, allowing him more space to move. Upwards the burrowed for what had to have been hours, longing to be free of the constrictive space.

Just as he had about given up hope his fingers broke through a wall of earth and into open and fresh air. He burst from the ground, gasping wildly for the clean sharp taste of the evening air.

Zanders pulled him self from the hole, lying upon the soft grass which covered the area around his early grave. Stars were just beginning to glisten in the fading light of the sky. A refreshing breeze blew through his dusty hair, reminding him of the simple pleasures above ground.

He looked over his body, checking his chest for holes and his body for other scars or wounds. Not a scratch was to be found. He was in need of a bath, but other than that as far as he could tell, he was exactly the same.

The canine rose to his feet and looked around. The lands were vaguely familiar. He spotted a small pond and made his way over to the still waters. Kneeling at their edge he peered into its reflective surface.

Soft glowing orbs stared back at him from the pool. It took him a second to realize those were his own eyes reflected in the water. His golden opticals now emanated a soft glowing hue as if backlit by some unseen dim ember.

He stared at himself for awhile, memorized by the new luminosity that adorned his eyes. Was it all true? Had he died? What really happened? All these questions and more ran through his head, tormenting him for the answers.

Frustrated he pushed himself upright once again, swiftly walking in a predetermined direction. A short time later he found himself at the entrance to an all too familiar cave.

A moment's hesitation was complimented by the nighttime crickets before he barged into the den he had once known as his own. Inside the light was even dimmer, the glow from his eyes more apparent. As he moved deeper into the cave a threatening growl emanated from the rear of the den. Zanders' ears twitched, his mind understanding the feral language that followed.

"Who are you?" The growls and grunts wouldn't have been understood by most other furries, who spoke the refined language known as 'basic'. Zanders, however, had learned to communicate with the base beasts in his time among them.

"I've come to kill the dragon that took my den." Zanders replied in the same feral tongue.

"Dragon? There hasn't been a dragon in these parts for years, not since my old pack reclaimed this den." The feral wolf obscured by the dark explained.

"Bullshit. My pack and I own this den. I was just here!" was Zanders' reply.

"I speak the truth. Years ago our alpha made a deal with a powerful mage. He got him to summon a dragon to kill the alpha male of our rival pack. That alpha... He wasn't like most. He was a furrie like you... Spoke feral as well." The feral stepped from the darkness as he continued his story. "He had insulted my old alpha, they fought and our alpha lost He lost the fight and this den to that other pack. He couldn't take that and became consumed with rage, wanting nothing but to see that furrie die."

"This had to be a load of shit." Zanders slipped back into basic for a moment before questioning the feral in its native tongue. "So what happened then?"

"Their alpha lost the fight. They buried his body not far from here. After that our pack retook this den. It was far too costly of a fight and our alpha never went back to being him self. Most of our pack disbanded, following a younger upstart. They left these lands many moons ago. I'm the only one who remains in the den."

In the dim light filtering in from the den entrance Zanders could see the age of the feral wolf. It wasn't uncommon for elders to strike out on their own when they felt they were more of a burden than an asset to their pack. Zanders surmised that must be why this elder had stayed behind when his pack set out in search of new lands.

After a minute of silence between the two the feral grunted and growled once again, "I believe I recall what they called him, the furrie alpha that was killed back then, his name was..."

Zanders interrupted quickly, "Zanders T'thol..." A matter-of-fact tone colored his name as he spoke it.

The elder wolf's eyes lit up with surprise. It had been some time since he'd heard the name spoken and now for this stranger to know exactly what name he was about to say left his mind whirling. "How did you know?" Was the question he posed to the wolf.

"I am that wolf... This story you've just told me happened just yesterday for me!" His voice grew louder as he spoke. He hadn't been dreaming, he had died and now he was back. The idea might have seemed impossible to him had he not heard of others who had been revived from death by magic.

Interrupting his train of thought, the elder cried out, "It can't be! I was there when Zanders died. I saw them burry the body."

"I am he. I've returned to get my revenge on the ones that did this to me. Tell me where I can find your alpha male. Where is Core?!"

The feral growled lowly, the hair on the back of his neck standing on end. Despite no longer being with the pack, or his old alpha male, he still felt loyalty to him. "If you are Zanders, then there is no way I would tell you. He may no longer by my alpha, but despite his method for having you killed, rather than doing it himself, I feel he was right."

Zanders gave verbal response to the feral. His tolerance for an opposing pack member was zero, and now with a rage pulsing through his body he wasn't going to argue with the wolf. He would simple extract the information he needed.

Outside the cave the soothing noises of the night were interrupted by a brief scuffle inside the den, followed by a short but intense round of painful howls. Some time later Zanders emerged from the cave and returned to the nearby pond to clean the blood from his paws. The elder hadn't known much, but he knew that Core had gone to civilization shortly after losing most of his pack. Somewhere south of the feral lands was both where he had hired the mage to summon the dragon and where Core had subsequently retreated.

In the feral's last breaths he had also told Zanders that Core had called the wizard who had helped him by the name of Rosewilde. So it was to the south that Zanders now set off. He would have his revenge, even if he had to track Core to the end of the earth.