FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Like almost any other cat at almost any other time, you land on your feet, at least - you maintain that dignity. Your meager belongings are tossed out after in a jumble. It's surprising how much elephants can throw.

You repeat your objection, "That lathe was about to fall apart anyway." But your heart isn't in it - you have seriously fucked up. Kicked out just short of journeyman woodworker. You dodge the malformed table-leg you just created, sweep the loose things onto your blanket, roll it up, and wander.

As it happens, you wander to the pub. It is a quiet afternoon. You claim a long table in the corner and tale stock - a blanket (now very dusty), a backpack, two more sets of work clothing and a pair of sandals, the boots and clothes you are wearing, a week's wages (40 pence, mixed coins) in a leather purse, a pocketknife, a ball of twine, that stupid half-made table leg that snapped and took the lathe with it (that you took away just to keep it from being how you were remembered there), a tootbrush, and a towel.

But enough of that. As you pack the bag, a grizzled grizzly walks in. He eyes your situation, then instead of taking a seat at the bar, approaches. "Hey, jag."

"I'm a puma, not a jaguar. Name's Sandin. You?"

"Cog. You good in hills?"

Your whiskers twitch as you sense an opportunity. Playing it cool, you say, "Fair enough. You got work?"

"Yeah."

He lets it set at that, so you ask, "What kind?"

"This 'n' that. Settin' ropes, carryin', guardin'. 2 pence a day'n'... "

Urk. Not much of an opportunity.

"... a tenth of the haul." Ah. That 'n' was a word. You begin to get used to his accent.

"Prospecting?"

"Yup."

"I thought the boom was over."

"Yup. Don't mean there ar'n't a good hunk a change lying round up there, if you know what you're doing, and I do." This statement took roughly half a minute.

You're nodding an equally slow acknowledgement when you hear a dainty pissed-off tromping of boots storming behind the bar. You turn and identify the source as Aurelia - a poodle's poodle, carefully coiffed and decorated, her frills and bows bouncing and jiggling as if a substitute in the face of the resolute refusal of her breasts to do so (their being modest in magnitude, if not presentation).

She siezes a bottle of something a good bit stronger than most of the pub's customers get, and pours it in a shot-glass.

"Hey, Ellie. Isn't it a bit early to be drinking?"

"Darlin', if it's early enough for me to be working, it's early enough for me to be drinking. At least, when it's him." She downs the shot and looks at you through the empty glass. "Least now I'm clean. Say, boss man finally went nuts and you head out on your own?"

"Something like that. But... who's this 'him'?"

"Now, darlin'. You know a girl's got to maintain her..."

Squawk. An ibis in a black suit and a broad-brimmed black hat dashes in. He drops two 10 pence on the bar and squawks "Here you go, I'll get you the rest later!". Then he hops up on one foot, adds, "Gotta run. Found a fresh kill out in the range.", and dashes out.

Aurelia snags the coins and finishes, "... pretenses."

You choke for a moment. "I was expecting something like 'discretion' or 'professional ethics'."

"Don'cha know? Our perfessional ethics ARE our pretenses." The bear rumbles in apparent amusement.

"So wait. You let him go on credit?"

"I know he's good for it, see? Curse-man always finds work, just like me. Anyway, it's not his fault. Well, it is, but I shouldn't complain. Takin' on a curse like that for money. So, darlin'... What are you up to?"

You consider for a moment, and say...

~~~~

Your turn. It's a free-form choose your own adventure - answer in the comments. Each time I update, I write up whichever option, in any of the updates, has the most thumbs-ups (ties broken by age of comment). So, your choices are not final - you can go back and explore other branches and choices.