FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

My first attempt at a story I wish to publish. Being homeless at the moment, chapters will be slow in coming.

"Father! Help me!" I could do nothing but lie in the mud and blood, the town burning around me. I could faintly hear the screams of the other villagers, but they were not registering properly. All I could see was my son and daughter, nine and twelve, as the monsters dragged them away. The details were burned into my memory. A werewolf, with dirty gray fur and two mismatched eyes; one green and one red, had ahold of my daughter. I could see the muscles flex under his pelt as he walked, no, glided across the ground. My son was in the grasp of what looked to be a fish being, a sahuagin. Its skin glistened with an oily sheen, its back orange with red splotches and its front side a pure white, though turned orange in the light of the fires. Its mouth gaped in what I assume was a hideous mockery of a smile as its catch, revealing rows of needle-sharp teeth. All I could think is that my son was lucky; they would probably kill him fast. My daughter..well, new monsters have to come from somewhere. I felt my head hit the ground as my vision misted red. I could see a bloody hand reach out, was that really mine? I could not feel it. Then darkness.

My next memory is waking up in the Witches hut. No one knew the ladies name, though everyone knew to avoid her. She lived on the edge of the forest the monsters lived in, and where they came from. Everyone knew she used black magic to keep the monsters away from her home. She was not welcome in town, and never tried to come in in the memory of any living villager. The old stories all stated she was an ugly crone, with gray, scraggly hair, two different sized eyes, yellowed, broken teeth, and a lump on her back. All decay from dealing with dark magics eating her from within. How wrong they were..

I woke to see a lovely lady, perhaps twenty two, and quite comely. She had long, golden-wheat hair that came down to her rump and wore a white linen tunic and a soft gray skirt that muted her feminine features, but not enough. She was bent over a pot on the fire and stirring, as I looked around. The wood hut had garlic hanging in strings, along side a few dead chickens, and jars of herbs I could not identify on the shelves. The scent of rabbit stew hit my nose and my stomach announced my waking with a loud snarl. The woman straightened up and looked at me with her piercing, green eyes. A soft smile played around her red lips, but never touched those eyes. I felt like they were not looking me, but straight into my soul. Then she spoke, and her voice was like the whisper of wind though a grassy field, "You wake! I almost thought the effort of pulling you from the blood and muck four days ago was wasted!" She ladled out some stew as I sat up, "Come! Eat and get your strength back." I took the stew and took a bite. It was spiced wonderfully; pepper, salt, garlic, and some other spices I could not place. There were bits of brown bread floating alongside the chunks of rabbit, and I dug in even as I spoke, "Where am I? What happened to the town? Is anyone else alive?" She laughed, the sound musical. How could I enjoy it so, when so much had happened, "You are in my hut, just outside the forest. I-" She stopped as my wooden spoon clattered in the bowl, "The witches' hut!?" That pretty face screwed up into a soft pout, "If you wish to insult me, I can toss you back out into the dirt, and wait for the monsters to come back?" Those green eyes found mine again, and I felt like a child getting scolded, and squirmed as I dropped my gaze, "I am sorry, but the stories-" "The stories say this, the stories say that!" The Witch gives a cackle, and mimics the tone of a villager, "The witch of the woods will sic the monsters on you if you stray at night!" She sits down on the foot of the bed, and imitates a stern mother, "Go to sleep, or the Witch will take you away and gobble you up!" The woman smiled again, though it never touched her eyes, "I have been around four hundred years, and heard all the tales."

"Then..you are a witch?" I ventured, nervously. She nodded, "I am, yes. Though everyone thinks I am a crone. Makes it easy to walk around your town and hear all the stories as I browse the market. Does it really bother you?" I squirmed again, "Dark magic-" "Not all magic is dark!" She flared at me, "I have made no deal with devils or imps. Nor do I lay with werewolves and hellhounds, as some believe. Also," She added, "My magics saved your life. Your body was ready to stop, though I could sense your soul wished to stay." I nodded, taking another spoonful of stew, "I would not want to leave my children in the claws of..those things.." She gave me a small, sad smile, "They are already dead, if they are lucky, and you know it. Though I can help you get revenge, if you are willing. I am Salandra." She held out a hand. After a moment, I shook it, "Brendan."

It's funny, the memories that flash through your mind, in your last moments. And that is how I died; at the claws of nameless things, in the bowel of some demonic lords castle. Trying to avenge my children and village.