FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Miles and miles of temperate forest land rushed past Ben’s peripheral as he pushed forward just that little bit more. He’d estimated he’d been running for about 20 minutes, but in reality it was about 45, and even his well-trained body was showing signs of extreme fatigue; his muscles stung and his entire body shook with what little adrenaline reserves were left. He was starving, and not only that, he hadn’t packed a bite to eat. His body soon forced him to stop. He spluttered and coughed, keeling over somewhat, resisting the urge to throw up.

After taking a little two minute break in a little gully to what might’ve been an old stream, he was still panting, his body trembling in exhaustion. His ears jutted out like satellite dishes for any single sign of sound that he was being followed.

Ben counted out the minutes; first two, then five, then ten, by which point Ben’s body had calmed down somewhat, the trembling simmering into a small shake. He gingerly rose his body up inside the gully, his nose angled upwards as he tried to sniff out any potential wild fruit that may be growing in the forest - he’d passed an apple tree or two during his sprint that threatened to distract his escape, so he knew there must be one around here somewhere!

Eastwards. Ironically, the direction he knew he needed to go. He’d managed to make it this far, and like he’d predicted, the forest floor was dry meaning he left no footprints - although the guard wolves might be able to track his scent. He had to think of a solution for that. But first: nourishment.

Ben’s footpaws ached with every step that he took eastwards. Taking a much more casual pace now, he was thoroughly exhausted and his body refused to move quickly without reason. Whilst walking, he let himself take in the serene nature of the forest surrounding him. Pine and oak trees filled his peripheral vision, the natural scent not too dissimilar to Lucy.

Lucy… thought Ben. He’d really started to like her, and felt awful about what he did still, guilt panging in his already sore stomach. “Bah, she was in it for the kingdom, not for me,” he told himself - though he couldn’t quite shake the feeling that he’d betrayed someone who could’ve at least been a very close friend, if not a lover.

Finally, Ben thought, quickly closing the distance between himself and the apple tree; Crabapples, and they were more the size of cherries, par for the Spring season. Ben grimaced as he chomped into what could’ve been the tiniest apple ever eaten, and cringed. He forced himself to chew the prematurely bitter fruit and swallow - urgh.

“I’m not eating another one of those,” mumbled the wild dog mid-chew, who’s nose picked up something a bit nicer: wild salmon. His ears angled around until he could just about hear the faint sound of running water. Salivating at the lips, the teenager beelined north, taking a quicker pace, enamoured with the idea of fresh fish.

Another half an hour passed before Ben finally reached the destination his ears and nose had taken him. A fairly slow running river, only about a third full, judging by the banks that Ben could see would usually be holding a lot more water. Still, his nose didn’t deceive him: there were fish in this river.

“A net would’ve been a great item right about now,” sarcastically muttered the painted dog. His nose detected that the water was pathogen free, and his right ear could hear the distant upstream roar of a waterfall. He kept his eyes sharply on the surface water, waiting to pounce. A salmon fish the size of Ben’s paw swam innocently upstream.

Ben inhaled deeply. In for 4, out for 6. He assumed a squatted pouncing position, making small, incremental movements as he watched the salmon struggle upstream. In one fell swoop, Ben leapt into the half-a-metre deep water, clasping the salmon with his claws as he nearly skewered it to pieces there in the river.

“YES!” Cheered Ben, who’d soaked the dress he was wearing in the process. Driven by hunger, he swallowed the bleeding fish whole as it squirmed momentarily between his teeth. The succulent salmon savoured sweetly in his maw as he licked his muzzle clean, the boy bowing down somewhat to take a long glug of water to drink. Might as well - who knows when the next water stop will be. He drank, drank, and drank until he started to feel full, his stomach hanging heavily with the combination of his impromptu meal and water.

Suddenly, Ben heard a twig snap nearby. The sound of it was unmistakable to him, having snapped twigs with his own footpaws, though he couldn’t smell anything amiss. Still, he gingerly stepped out of the water, dress dripping, fists curled. “Come out! I’m not afraid of you,” growled Ben, who felt fire build up within him. He peered around, now stood in a naturally flat clearing in the woodland, trying to discern where the sound had come from.

There were five large trees within a 5m radius of him - three oak towards the front, left and right, and two skinnier pines behind him, in a crude star shape, with Ben slap bang in the middle. He bared his sharp, well-kept teeth, his claws exposed, body tensed, tail raised high. He was ready to strike.

That’s when he noticed the very, very slight exposure of an ear poking out from one of the oak trees ahead of him. Stiffening himself further and shivering in mixture of anticipation and from the breeze that wafted through his sodden lower half, his nose still picked up nothing, which made him frown. He started to retreat backward ever so slowly. If what he could see was an ear, then the wielder was at least a foot taller.

A flock of scurried noises behind him flashed by too quickly for Ben to react, and soon he found himself in a powerful stranglehold of his own - a thick, long-furred arm choking against his neck, the other clasped tight around his torso, pressing on his full stomach.

Again, to his rear the head of what looked like a giant cat glared down at him with piercing amber eyes. Ben didn’t struggle - he knew better, and in one fell swoop jammed his elbow right into the stranger’s testicles. A guttural growl filled both ears that wilted quickly, and he twisted his entire body, slamming both of his strong legs to sweep the stranger off of their feet. Ben didn’t bother waiting to see who or what had attacked him, swiping the incapacitated stranger with all of his might, taking several swipes at his face, the pungent stench of blood filling his nostrils.

“AAAARGH! STOP!!!” growled the creature. Ben did so, his ears rotated behind him as he heard the second stranger approaching. Seeing them still a decent distance away, he punched the stranger’s balls once more, leaving them reeling and rocking like a little baby.

He turned his full attention to who seemed like the first person’s doppelganger: a huge, black, triangle of muscle that wore shaggy fur, and a chunky rectangular nose, with small eyes and ears that represented a black panther. Ben let out a guttural, savage growl that tingled through the dense air, baring his bloody teeth.

“One more step, and your partner becomes null,” threatened Ben, powerfully kicking the downed cat yet again, the whimpering mess recoiling in response. The other panther winced and froze, watching as the other squirmed and cried out in pain. He gingerly raised his huge paws up in the air. “You leave my partner, and we’ll leave you,” bartered the panther, who spoke softly and calmly, his eyes wide, digging daggers into Ben’s consciousness.

Ben barked in disgust. “And why wouldn’t I eat your little buddy for dinner? If you’re as bad at combat as him, I could eat both of you,” he growled, anger-fuelled adrenaline rushing through his body. Ben was thirsty for a fight, with all of the frustration of the years gone by bubbling to the surface. “Besides - I know you’ll keep following me. This is the king’s private forestry. I don’t know how you got here, but I know you must be a hell of a determined pair.”

The panther tilted his head slowly. “You’re a smart one, if not bizarrely dressed. Why don’t you come with us? We come from a close-knit clan that hunts bounty in private lands, and we could use someone as well-trained as you.” He proudly extended his chunky paw, as if to offer it to the wild dog.

Ben looked down at himself. Shit. All of the black has washed away… they know exactly who I am! Cursed to always be a wild dog…

“A tempting offer, but I wasn’t born yesterday. You’re hunting me for a price. I don’t know how you knew I’d be here, but I’m impressed,” he spat, growling lowly. “But if you take one step closer to your partner, I’ll swipe his testicles off in one fell swoop. Hell, maybe I’ll eat them. You see, I have nothing to lose, and that makes me dangerous,” he explained, his voice low and savage.

The panther gingerly raised his paws above his head once more. “You’re right. Sorry partner - you’re on your own.” And with that, the panther retreated. Ben had slalomed back so that both of them were in view, including the one still crippled below. Said panther took one last desperate swipe at Ben’s feet, only for Ben to leap out of the way.

“Nice try, bozo.” In one swoop, Ben sliced all down one of the panther’s legs, the man now bleeding heavily. He cried and whimpered, clutching his leg. Surprisingly, he stumbled to his two feet and struggled away, seething through his muzzle as he did so, a thick trail of blood following him.

“Perfect,” mumbled Ben. If these twats are after me, I’d better make sure I know where they came from, and one of them has left me a convenient scent trail to the other.

Ben feasted on a couple more unripened apples nearby, looking at the bank of water nearby. Miraculously, he’d escaped without a scratch. I guess Torna’s training came in handy after all. He moved over to the mud of the bank on the river side, and a lightbulb lit up in his brain. He stripped his body completely, shivering a little in the cool, Spring breeze, dumping the clothes in the river as they slowly washed down. Then, he manoeuvred himself onto the side of the bank, right where the mud met the river, and rolled around, covering his entire body in the muck. Once coated, he shivered; the mud was freezing cold, but it wasn’t long before the sticky substance started to dry somewhat, clinging onto Ben’s fur.

Ben sniffed himself. Satisfied, and looking like a tramp that had crawled out of a ditch, he followed the half-dried pitter patters of blood trailing through the forest, his nose leading him forward. He could make out that the panther that had attacked him was well-fed, with iron-rich blood, which was unlike how most people on the island lived. So, they’re well-fed. His nose also started to pick up a very, very faint scent of the other panther, of whom he only caught a whiff because he focused hard. Why are these guys’ scents so hard to pick up?

Well over a mile had passed north-eastward. At least I’m sort of going in the right direction, thought the painted dog, and this mud is starting to get itchy. Here’s hoping it’s masking my scent enough…

He paused as he heard voices from up ahead, shimmying up to one of the thick oak trees, back turned to it. He made sure to stay completely concealed as he listened in. He could hear the distant flickering of a wood-powered fire. That, and the stench of smoke that they were clearly trying to conceal with a homemade chimney catch, which admittedly had worked up until the 20 metres away that Ben now hid.

“...and you left yourself bleeding?! You idiot! You do realise what danger you’ve put us in with your stupid injury?” spat the voice that Ben immediately recognised as the panther he’d reasoned with. ‘Smarty’ helping ‘Dummy’, he thought to himself.

“Well what was I supposed to do?! You fucking left me there! He could’ve killed me…” reasoned the other. Ben heard a thwump straight after. “Well, if you’d ACTUALLY done your job properly, we wouldn’t be in this mess! Now stay still, whilst I disinfect your wound. This is gonna fucking hurt.”

Now that the panthers were away from Ben, they spoke in a much more relaxed manner. Ben couldn’t quite pin their accents; he’d never heard anything like it. Where on Earth are they from? He pondered to himself, but realised he might not have much time before one of them picked up on his scent. Think. What’s the best move to make? If I could just take a peek at what I’m up against… It would risk losing my element of surprise, and I don’t have a weapon. It’s still a good distance to close in on them.

Ben’s ears were on full alert as he heard various noises: a box opening, bandages being unwrapped. Ben used this moment to take the quickest peek he’d ever taken. Just as he imagined, both of them were in a vulnerable position, sitting on a felled log in a little clearing with a moderate fire. ‘Smarty’ seemed to be administering some kind of medicinal liquid on ‘Dummy’s leg. Ben snickered internally. Cunt deserved it. Waiting for his time, he quietly picked up a chunky stick nearby, and sneakily worked on sharpening the end of it with a claw, waiting for the right moment.

“YAAAAAAOOOOOUUUUCH!!!!” Dummy’s voice echoed through the imminent area, several birds flocking out in a flurry of chaos and noise. That was Ben’s call. He sprinted full force from the tree, and caught them both completely off-guard, Dummy falling backwards. He jousted forward directly at Smarty’s torso. The panther noticed him just in time and slapped the stick away, growling loudly and swiping at Ben.

Ben was too quick for a simple move like that; he’d read Smarty like a book and administered a sharp kick to the panther’s exposed shin. A guttural growl filled Ben’s satellite-like ears and a satisfied smirk spread sassily across the wild dog’s muzzle. He used the moment wisely, retrieving his sharpened weapon and danced it around in his paws; the stick spinning like a sideways beyblade as he beckoned Smarty forward.

“If you want me, why don’t you come get me?” he sneered, peering right at Smarty’s eyes. He kept one eye on Dummy, who simply watched over, clearly too injured to do a whole lot. Smarty just growled and narrowed his eyes at Ben.

“I wish you knew the bounty over your head, Benjamin,” snickered the panther, who didn’t seem at all threatened by the wild dog. Said panther was triple Ben’s size, and most large guys in a match-up like this wouldn’t even feel challenged, though Ben noticed a twitch in Smarty’s eyes. He’s afraid, and desperate, and hopes this information will shock me. Newsflash, meathead. I’m not surprised at all.

Ben launched the stick like a javelin powerfully into Dummy. It pierced powerfully into his exposed left arm. “YAAAAAOOOOOOUUUUUUUUUCHHHHH!!” came the second guttural cry that echoed through the forest. Using the element of surprise, Ben cleared the space between them and launched a powerful punch at Smarty’s jaw, only to find his fist caught mid-swipe, held there still seemingly effortlessly by Smarty, who administered a debilitating punch to Ben’s chest.

The sheer force of the punch reply sent Ben soaring backwards like a superhero meeting their Kryptonite. He flew back some before collapsing onto his back, skidding along the forest floor. Coughing and clutching his chest, he narrowly dodged what could’ve been the final kick of the fight from Smarty. Scrambling on the low-ground, still reeling from the winded blow, he rugby-esque launched himself at the panther’s legs, toppling him over with his top-heavy figure.

Fuck. Don’t get too cocky here, Ben. Remember what’s at stake here. The painted dog found himself upright in moments, adrenaline making his body shake. Every single fiber of his body, every strand of fur clinging underneath the mud on his skin pointed forward as he launched a kick of his own at Smarty, kicking him right on his coccyx.

It was Smarty’s time to scream, except nothing legible came out but a roar; he lay there, temporarily paralysed by the shooting pain running through his back. Ben snarled in feral fashion, combining his fists together and pummelling his powerful paws right against the midsection of Smarty’s huge back, pushing him into the forest floor.

Ben wasted no time with what little time and energy he had left. He rushed back over to Dummy, who quickly raised his paws; in doing so he cried in pain, bleeding incessantly from the puncture injury from his bicep. Ben grumbled, yanking out the javelin-like stick, causing Dummy to cry out in pain yet again.

Quickly rushing over to the semi-paralysed Smarty, who had managed to turn around and face the Prince, tears in his eyes. “Please, please save me. Lord knows I wouldn’t do this if I had a choice. PLEASE!!” Both paws crumpled together in a pleading fashion.

Ben considered his plea for a moment. If I let them go now, there’s no way they’re going to let me out of here alive… but, can I do this? Knocking someone out is one thing, but permanently disabling someone? Is that the kind of person I want to be?

Ben leapt up, spear in both hands, and slammed the spear down into Smarty’s right thigh. Ben yelled out, with enough force he smashed the spear clean through his leg, all the way into the forest’s semi-arid surface.

Ben spat on Smarty’s face, ignoring his painful cries. “Just stay the fuck away from me, or next time I’ll finish the job. Here’s hoping the royal guards don’t find you, or you’ll wish I’d killed you,” he threatened, tail lashing about. Okay, job done, now simmer down. Focus on the task at hand.

–

Ben hadn’t ran faster in his life if he’d tried. His muddy camouflage was now soaked in foreign blood, and so was his conscience. He’d never been into any fight, yet he performed with such vicious accuracy, it almost frightened him, scared of his own temper. I can’t believe what I’ve done today, he thought to himself, his mind the only piece of him running faster than his capable legs. Maybe I took things too far. If they’re working by themselves, they’ll die of disease quickly. Who am I kidding? Those two are just meatheads. They’d have no idea I’d have left the palace today. No, whoever is orchestrating this is much, much smarter than those two, and it was important for me to leave whoever it was a message. Still, my blood is still bubbling with anger and hate, he thought to himself, as trees and foliage rushed past his body. By now, most of the mud had faded from his exhausted, spent body.

The savannah sun simmered solemnly over the horizon as it basked the tops of the trees in a muted, golden light. Sundown, mused Ben, who’d slowed himself right down. He had found the stream again, but further downstream, and had rolled around in some fresh mud. With the sun disappearing, he felt his body colden and harden with every passing minute of the absence of sunlight. Not good… lord knows I could still be only halfway towards the train tracks. He sniffed around as he trudged; all he could smell was the dense, dank stench of the evening filling his lungs. Nothing metal for miles around.

Ben realised he couldn’t stop. He knew that his father would have found out by now, and probably had sent every single royal guard out to find him. His stomach growled hungrily, but Ben had no choice but to pick up the pace. He settled on a light jog.

Twenty minutes passed, and his ears picked up the sound of hooves rushing in the distance. SHIT!! They’re here. What to do, where to go!! Ben growled to himself, finding himself stuck in paralysis for a moment. Sunrise had happened ten minutes ago, the moon now shining brightly in the sky. He looked up to the moon, just about visible through the tree line. Then it hit him. That’s it! These trees STINK. They’ll never find me in a canopy. I still have time.

He positioned himself in front of a large oak tree, its stature stably sitting there, with Ben feeling like the tree was watching him. Baring his claws, he started to ascend the tree, trying to leave as little claw tracks as possible. He was thankful for the practice earlier, not just with the fence but with Torna as he managed to pull himself to the top of the beautiful oak. He crouched and hid amongst the leaves as best as he could.

Realising he’d left claw tracks, he leapt to the next tree, clutching on desperately, panting, looking down. Why the hell did you do that?! He felt his heart pound in his muzzle, ears ringing. Shaking his head desperately, his whole body shaking in fright, he leapt to the next tree, and clung on for dear life, slowly scraping down to a suitable height.

Just in time. Not forty seconds later, the entire fleet of the royal guard rushed past with torches and horses, galloping eastward in a wide line. Ben thought he could spot his huge father weighing down one of the horses. That poor, poor Horse, thought the wild dog as he watched them gallop in the direction he was due.

Sighing a bated sigh of relief, he’d managed to wriggle himself inside the crotch where the tree splitted, his legs resting up high with his back resting up on an opposing large branch. He found security in the structural integrity of the large tree, thanking it quietly. Sighing in relief, he relaxed his head sideways at the bark, and found himself feeling more tired than he’d ever felt in his entire life.