{"sf1_id":503630,"sf2_id":null,"title":"Wanderings and Murder - Chapter 1","author":"Chorus the Coyote","words":4193,"posted_at":"2013-02-19T18:28:00.000Z","tags":["Fanfiction","Series","Sonic","Wanderings","murder"],"url":"https://fse.anthro.fr/stories/503630-wanderings-and-murder-chapter-1","original_url":"https://sofurry.com/view/503630","image_url":"https://www.sofurryfiles.com/std/thumb?page=503630\u0026ext=.jpg","description":"This is a Sonic the Hedgehog fanfiction, though it won't seem that way at first. It will take a few chapters before Sonic shows up, because I wanted the story to proceed logically and eliminate contrivance.\nIf you liked it, great. If you didn't, tell me why.\nEven though he's not in this one, I should mention that Sonic the Hedgehog is owned by SEGA.","content":"\nI felt\nhard dirt underneath me, pressing into the contours of my body so hard they\nmight bruise. The frozen ground was too hard to mould to my shape, and the\nworsening stiffness in my back and wings was making that obvious. There was a\ngust of wind. It was colder than my rocky bed, and it smelled like too many\nthings at once.\nA cold\ndrop of rain landed on my eyelid. I tried to raise my arm to protect my face,\nbut found that my arm was so heavy it felt dead. I was too tired to adjust my\nposition, but it was quickly becoming obvious that the discomfort of staying\nhere would soon outweigh the discomfort of waking up and moving. Another drop\nof rain fell, like a poking finger, hard onto my flat nose. I groaned as they\nincreased in frequency, drumming into my huge, numb ears. My pelt was\nplastering to my skin; even my thick fur had a saturation point, and I was\nfeeling the cold already. It was like my flesh was as soaked in ice as my fur.\nI felt\nlike a craggy monster god of old, awakening from some prehistoric coma. Specifically,\nlike one who needed a few more centuries asleep. I gave another closed-mouth\ngroan, and rolled over onto my left shoulder, and then onto my paws. My legs\ntrembled slightly at first, then hoisted my huge body, soaking wet pelt and\nall, into a slouching but upright position. My jaws cracked apart with a wet \u003ci\u003esquelch\u003c/i\u003e, and creaked as I\nstretched them to their limit in an exhausting yawn. I let my front paws slide\nforward in a stretch, trying to resist the urge to lie back down as I sank\nlower. I felt something tighten around my upper arms, limiting my movement and\npreventing the stretch from being satisfying. I finally got around to prying\nopen my eyes to see what the matter was.\nI had\nto blink a few times to get the fluid in my eyes flowing, and when they finally\nfocussed, I saw I had clothes on. I hesitated to really call them 'clothes' -\nthey were fraying everywhere they could, and the way they were loose and baggy\nin some places, while too tight in others, suggested they hadn't really been\nmade for me. They weren't dirty, though I'd been lying in dirt; I surmised it\nwas so tightly packed with frost, it didn't have any spare grains to lodge in\nmy clothes. I glanced up from my self-inspection to look at the torrents of icy\ndrops falling in sheets, and wondered if that would melt the frost in the dirt\nor just freeze it harder.\nI tried\nto fully extend my wings, but found the same impediment to my range of motion\nthere as well. I resolve to shred this damn coating of cloth as soon as I found\na dry place. I glanced around, eyes narrowed against the painful, pelting\ndarts, hoping to see shelter of some kind. I sniffed hopefully, but I should've\nknown better. In the rain, the air no longer smelled like too many things at\nonce; quite the contrary, it smelled like fresh water and nothing else. The\ninside of my nostrils stung with the cold air. I turned on the spot, seeing\nnothing but bare stretches of sodden misery for as far as I could see, until I\nfound I could make out a tall, darker shape against the black clouds. I forced\nmy tired body to move toward it, still irritated by the tight fabric binding\nme.\nAs I\ngot close enough to see it properly, I whimpered in relief: it was a large,\nshoddy sort of house, with the doors missing, but the roof intact. I worked my\nlegs up from a dejected walk to a lope, brightened by a stroke of luck. As soon\nas I crossed the threshold, the scents in the air came back in a rush, so many\nat once I had trouble placing them immediately. I let myself collapse onto my\nstomach, sending two scents more than any others up into my face; that of my\nown wet fur, and that of the hay I lay on. After a few breaths, I began to sort\nthrough the others: dried animal scat, rotten wood, and what might've been\nlettuce or celery.\nI\nmanaged to find a connection between all those smells, and this structure in my\nmuddled brain: it was a warehouse on a farm. Judging by the state of the place,\nno one had been here in a long time to repair it, or fill it. Perhaps the\nmiscellaneous vegetables I smelled were things they used to grow here. I raised\nmy head and looked out the wide doorway. Now that I could open my eyes and see\nit properly, the sky was quite frightening. It seemed to extend forever in\nevery direction, and all of it was boiling black clouds and stinging rain. It\nmade it hard to believe that it had ever been sunny anywhere in the world.\nRemembering\nthe clothes (which were becoming tighter with being wet), I tried to raise\nmyself onto my hind legs to free my hands for their destruction. With my tail\ntrapped in pants, leaving me unable to correct my balance, it took a few tries\nand unwieldy wobbling, but I managed to find a position that left me standing\nerect, though I couldn't have moved from it without tilting onto all fours\nagain. Trying to keep my center of balance, I curled my claws around the\ncollar, and wrenched it as hard as I could. The cloth, which had been pushed to\nits limits before, ripped easily with a satisfying shirrrrrk all the way down the\ncenter. A mane of chest fur burst through the rip. I ran my claws\nappreciatively through my lightly coloured underbelly fur, tousling it to get\nrid of the discomfort the shirt had caused. A quick snap of my jaws to grab the\nsleeve and a jerk of my head freed my left arm, and then my right. The remains\nof the shirt fell to the filthy hay. I kicked it away, and rolled my shoulders.\nI\nhooked my thumbs under the waistline of the pants, and yanked. I didn't need to\ncreate any new rips for this one; the seams burst rather easily. I sighed in\nrelief, swishing my tail and relaxing my stance; standing was not quite such a\nbalancing act now. Starting with a slow turn of my head to stretch my neck, I\nshook off my entire hide, ending with a whip of my tail. My wings, which were\nmostly hairless save for some sparse covering, didn't need a drying shake.\nNow\nreasonably comfortable, I settled down in the soft, if stinking, hay to go back\nto sleep, when I noticed something distinctly rectangular lying in the pile of\nfabric that had been the pants. Carefully, I slid it out of the pocket with the\npad of one finger. It was paper and stiff. With careful snuffling, I smelled\nink, and salty water through the fresh rainwater soaking it. Not wanting to\ndamage the note that was surely inside what I now recognized was an envelope, I\nresolved not to touch it until it dried, hoping the folded paper didn't stick\ntogether too badly by then.\nI\nhunkered down on the spot again, when it hit me that I had no idea how that\nletter had gotten into my pocket. I supposed someone could've stuck it in there\nwhile I was sleeping in the farm field - but now I thought about it, I didn't\nknow how I'd gotten into those clothes. Surely I would've woken up if someone\nhad forced those\non while I slept? But I couldn't remember putting them on myself. I tried to think\nback to before I'd fallen asleep in the field, and realized something truly\nupsetting.\nI\ndidn't know why I'd come here, or how. I couldn't remember doing it, or\ndeciding to do it. I couldn't remember yesterday. I couldn't remember anything\nat all past the moment the raindrop landed on my eye.\nI\ncouldn't remember my name.\nI\nbolted upright, hearing my heartbeat getting louder and faster. I could hear my\nbreathing as well, my panicked, fast breaths. My mouth opened, and I panted in\nfear, puppyish whines coming from my throat. The severity of the situation was\nbeginning to crush me, and I was starting to shake with an icy feeling that was\nnot the cold rain.\nI\ndashed across the barn on all fours, reached the wall, turned around, ran back\nthe other way. I was running up and down the barn, whining, half-crying,\ncompletely unable to stop myself, asking myself the same questions in my head\nover and over.\nWhat is your name?\nWhere did you come from?\nHow old are you?\nWhat do you like to do? What don't you like\nto do?\nWho are your parents?\nI\ncouldn't answer any of them, and they wouldn't stop, they just kept spinning\ninside my head the same way I was running in circles, tearing the barn apart.\nEven my body was all\nwrong! Why hadn't I noticed before? The front paws striking the ground in front\nof me were not normal paws: they were thick and strong and load-bearing, yes,\nbut they had thumbs, something that shouldn't be on a paw made for running. My\nwings were wrong; they shouldn't be on me, because I was too big and heavy. I\nmight be able to fly if I tried, but surely if I could run as fast and as long\nas I was right now, I couldn't be built for flying as well.\nThis\npanicked sprinting wasn't helping at all. I skidded to a halt, sat back on my\nhaunches. I shut my eyes, and tried my very hardest to calm down. I couldn't\neven manage to breathe slower, but at least I was staying still. I lifted one\npaw - or hand? - off the barn floor and ran my claws through my head fur. Maybe\nit was something I did to calm myself down; I had no idea. In running my claws\nover my ears, I whined to realize they were wrong on me, too. They were too\nbig. A normal, four-legged furry animal should have ears about a third the size\nof mine.\nI put\nboth hands on my head, over my ears and eyes so I wouldn't see or hear any new\nhorrifying surprises. I could hear my own breathing, sounding like a trapped\nanimal.\nThe letter, I reminded myself. You were given a letter. It must say\nsomething.\nThat\ncalmed me a little - but only a little. I let my hands fall from my face and\nsettle on the ground in front of my hind feet. In a sudden flicker of\nlightning, the dark shapes of my four paws were lit up in vivid colour; I saw\nfur the same dark gray as the rainclouds filling the entire sky outside,\ninterspersed with red and white, then all was flat black once more. The roll of\nthunder that came immediately after was so concussive and imposing, my fur\nstood on end with shock. I ducked my head, cowed by the very noise, feeling as\nthough the sky was falling toward the ground like a fist to crush me in this\ndesolate, abandoned place.\nI dug\ninto a pile of hay, covering my whole body to feel safer, or at least warmer. I\ndidn't manage either one; the cold stubbornly stayed in my body, refusing to\nfade. The smell of the hay and my own fear-sweat filled my nose as I took a\nshivery breath. I whispered aloud to myself:\n\"Who am\nI?\"\nSomehow,\nmaking noise made me more afraid, so I shut up and lay still. It took a long\ntime before I had control of myself again; what calmed me was thinking of the\nletter, and how all I had to do was wait for it to dry. Then, I could read it,\nand everything would make sense.\nI\ndidn't think I'd slept, but it was difficult to say; it was so dark under the\npile of plants, that it was possible I'd shut my eyes and dozed without\nnoticing my loss of consciousness. I shoved myself up from under the straw,\nstretching my wings and all four legs as tall as they could be. I felt blood\nflow to the very tips of my wings, and gave a satisfied grunt. I didn't feel\nquite so scared as I had before; I was strangely optimistic that reading the\nletter would clear everything up. As though it was just some mishap that I'd\nbeen mind-wiped and dropped in the middle of nowhere, and I'd have all the\nanswers as soon as it was cleared up.\nI shook\nmyself, combing my fur with my claws to get all the straw out. I smiled at how\nluxuriantly thick my fur was, layered with coarse, stiff hair on the surface,\nand soft, downy fur underneath. My body might seem wrong, parts of it all mixed\nand matched, wings with four legs and paws with thumbs, but if I said so\nmyself, my fur was beautiful.\nI\nretrieved the small rectangle of paper from the ground a few feet away, lying\nnext to the damp piles of torn fabric. I nudged it cautiously with one long\nclaw; it didn't tear under that tiny pressure as I'd feared it would. I picked\nit up as gently as I could; it felt so fragile and small in my huge paws. It\ntook a few minutes fussing to unfold it without running the risk of tearing it\nin half, working with the blunt instruments that were my clawed toes.\nWhen it\nwas finally open, I smoothed it out on the ground and stared at it for a long\nmoment. The runes scrawled across it weren't legible, or just didn't mean\nanything. Confused and with growing frustration, I stared for several minutes,\nturning it this way and that with one finger, but the characters written on it\nnever made any sense.\n\"It's\ngarbage.\" I muttered. My teeth clenched together, so hard that they shook, and\nthe shaking spread into my hands, my legs, my tail, like it was infectious. My\ngorge rose slightly, as though it really was sickness, but it wasn't. It was\ndeep fury.\n\"It's\nfucking garbage!\"\nI said, shuddering, deep growls pouring out of my mouth after my words. I\nwrenched my gaze away from that awful letter, mocking me with its nonsense\nrunes and its false promise. The shaking seemed to move along my arm with\nfierce attention in the split second it took me to drive my fist against the\nwooden barn wall next to me. The old wooden panel squealed and a crack opened\nin the middle beneath my knuckles. I pulled my arm back and punched again and\nagain, widening a hole in the rotten wood with every blow, but I didn't feel\nany better. A steady stream of angry rumbles coming up from my chest was the\nbackground noise to my thoughts. Why couldn't the letter have said anything?\nWhy did I have it at all if it was just scribbles? Was someone just toying with\nme, playing a cruel joke? It wasn't fair!\nThe\nsteady white noise of my own growling and the sound of splintering wood were\ninterrupted by a sudden, low creaking noise. I halted my assault on the wall in\nsurprise; it was \u003ci\u003eloud\u003c/i\u003e,\nand very close. A jolt of pain in my upper jaw drew my attention, and made me\nrealize the creaking, popping, grinding sound was inside my own mouth. The\nnoise grew louder and the pain grew worse. I pressed my hand to my mouth,\ngroaning, and I felt an eye-watering twist in my canine teeth. My low groan\nturned into a high-pitched whine. It felt like my teeth were trying to shove\nout of my skull. I pressed my hand against my mouth harder, hoping, wishing, I\ncould keep them still.\nWith a\nsickening crack and a jab of agony that made my guts shrivel, my lower jaw was\nforced to open several inches by huge things in my mouth that hadn't been there\na second ago. I felt them pushing against my hand, and cautiously peeled my\nlips back. I touched the smooth protrusions, and discovered that they were my teeth. Twin bone blades,\nshoving rudely out of my mouth where my obedient carnassials should've been.\nIt took\nreal strength, I think, not to get even further agitated. Despite being\ndisoriented, confused, with no memory, a body that makes no sense, a letter not\nwritten in writing, and teeth that turn into weapons at random ... I refused to\npanic. Holding myself still with all my might, I took quick, shallow breaths,\ntrembling with the effort. My tail was twitching in between my legs, my wings\nflicking slightly open and pulling back in rapidly; small symptoms of shock\nthat might worsen any second if I couldn't make myself just breathe ...\nI had\nto use the full strength of my diaphragm to halt its anxious contractions, and\nthen give one long pull, inhaling all the way. I held it, held it tightly in my\nchest until my nervous spasms ceased, until my tail relaxed and swung out into\nits natural place, swaying comfortably from my lower back, then let out a great\ngroan of air.\nThe\ntusks shifted uncertainly, giving little twists and twinges, before slipping\nupward back into the flesh of my mouth. It was much less painful for them to\nnestle in back where they belonged, and I sighed, relieved. Not just relieved\nthat I could comfortably close my mouth again, but also that I had done that. I'd taken control of\nmyself and made my teeth small again. It was the first time in my memory of one\nhour that strange things like shape-shifting fangs hadn't jerked me around,\nthat I'd refused to be moved by something. In this strangely proud mood, I\napproached the letter again, ready to take a level-headed crack at it.\nThe\nrunes on the page didn't look any different, but they somehow felt different. I\ncould imagine that they meant something, that someone had written them with\npurpose and ideas. I blinked, and turned my head a little, not looking at the\nwhole page this time, but rather running my gaze over each line, word by word.\nThat felt better, more like the correct thing to do. And as I reached the end\nof the page and returned to the top to look it over again, suddenly it clicked. The scribbles on the\npage now meant something; I recognized a few letters. If I concentrated, I\nfound I could just barely remember a few words: plan, meant scheme or schedule\nor a pre-determined set of actions in particular sequence meant to achieve a\ngoal; all, everything, everyone, every step - of the plan, perhaps.\nThere\nwas a sentence now, at the beginning of the letter: If all has gone according to plan, you are\nconfused.\nI\ngrunted, dismayed; this was not off to a good start. A few more minutes'\ncareful study yielded the next sentence. You hopefully do not remember anything at all; it is my understanding\nthat it should work this way.\nThere\nwas something about the wording that seemed wrong to me; imagining these words\nspoken aloud, they seemed stilted and unnatural. I could only imagine that the\nwriter hadn't been feeling himself. It became easier to read the longer I did,\nand I managed to figure out the rest of the letter from there relatively\nquickly.\nI'm uncertain if you will even be\nable to read this letter, to be honest with you. Unfortunately, that is what I\ncannot be: honest. You must not know what, or especially who, you are, and I\nwill not tell you. All I can say is that you should keep it this way, if you\nknow what's good for you, and never seek out clues of\nyour past, or anyone who might have known you. Even if you feel you have to\nknow or you will go mad, choose madness, I implore you, or all of what I have\ndone will be for naught.\nI have chosen this path, and for our sakes,\nI hope you do not undo my choice.\n- Your\npast self\n\"You ...\nselfish motherfucker.\" I said, the letter blurring as my hands shook. I\nclenched my fists and ripped the delicate paper fitfully, over and over until\nit was practically powder in the hay, and whirled back to the hole in the wall\ninstead. No matter how much energy I put into my attacks, rotten wood breaks\nand splinters apart too easily, not allowing any satisfaction in the act of\ndestruction. I couldn't believe what I'd read, or rather, what hadn't been in\nthe letter to read. Was I really meant to know nothing at all of who I was?\nThere'd been nothing but a vague warning. Surely it couldn't have hurt to tell\nme more than that; was my very name\nsome sort of taboo?\nFed up\nwith punching and clawing wood apart, I stood shuddering with frustration,\nsplinters pricking my palms and lodged in my fur, which was all messed up again\nsince my earlier brushing. I felt so disappointed, I was no closer now that\nbefore to understanding anything. I shambled out of the barn, under the deep,\ndark blue sky, crystal-clear and quite beautiful now that the storm had passed.\nThe\nchaos and confusion was over in the atmosphere, but there was no end in sight\nin my mind. Unsure of what I was doing, I dug in my stout front claws and began\nto haul myself up the outside wall of the barn, leaving deep furrows behind me\nfrom my equally strong hind paws. The wood creaked and shook to bear my weight;\ngiven my excessive venting against the barn, when it was barely standing to\nbegin with, I wouldn't have been surprised if the entire thing collapsed under\nmy weight alone.\nI kept\nclimbing despite that, until I was perched on the highest point of the roof,\nwith nowhere further to go. I lay down with my head on my forepaws, and shut my\neyes. The cloying cold was still there, stiffening my muscles despite my\nexertion. I didn't know who I'd been before, but he must've been a real\njackass, wiping my memory and leaving me in the middle nowhere with no\ndirection. He hadn't spared a single thought for how I'd feel: like all there\nwas in the world was this barn, this frozen, flat stretch of land, and a\npathetic freak with no place in it who had no home.\nI\nhighly doubted I would ever open my eyes now.\nBut\nthen, the wind shifted, and with my next breath, I smelled something that\nchanged my mind in a moment. I raised my head and gave a proper sniff. It was\nfaint, barely there, and it faded away completely if I turned my head the wrong\nway. I couldn't tell exactly what it might be, or even anything to compare it\nto (the only scents I knew were dirt and wood, and this was very different),\nbut I knew that I wanted it. In my mind's eye, the new scent glowed invitingly,\nand I knew it promised something delicious, something to seek out.\nIt gave\nme direction. It wasn't much, but in an empty field to a confused beast, it was\ndirection enough.\nThe\nwind slackened, and the scent vanished. Wherever it came from, the source must\nbe very far away to be so faint. I turned from one side to the other, wishing\nthe wind would pick up again; all I needed was a few seconds, and maybe I could\ntell which direction it was coming from.\nA\nsudden gust, and I whirled to face it. This was the right direction; even though it looked the\nexact same as every other view away from the farmhouse, the faint glow in my\nnostrils came stronger here than any other. This was my path.\nI\nextended my wings, hoping, pleading to myself, that my huge, muscular body\ncould be supported by these, and flung myself off the roof.\nThe\nfirst flex of my wings was painfully slow and difficult; I felt cumbersome, the\nleast aerodynamic thing on wings. Beating against the dead air and the constant\ndownward pull was work, and it had me panting within minutes. My wing muscles\nshivered constantly at the strain. This didn't feel like flying; it felt more\nlike dragging myself through the air.\nI\nforced myself to keep flapping. The glowing scent, though blown away now from\nthe motion of my wings, was worth the effort. With great, billowing sweeps, the\nwind from my strokes ruffling my fur, I pushed ever forward.\n\n \n"}