FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

The inevitable finally happened: the power went out. A few hours after you prepped Michael the best you could for the cold, the lights dimmed before shutting off, likely forever. Unfortunately, you didn't find any keys for the other apartments and couldn't scrounge up enough food to warrant you both staying, so you told Michael and ultimately decided to move out, guiding your blind companion by hand out into the snow. You gave him several shirts and pants to layer up with, though they're in no way suited for this weather. His feet sunk into the snow up to his shins, and you aren't faring any better. With your newly formed canine feet and the accumulated snow, your shoes no longer fit, constantly leaking in snow through the open gaps.

Though you are likely no more than a five-minute drive away from the apartments, you need to find a place for yourself and Michael to rest and try to warm up. The wind and snow are more potent than before, bringing an ill omen if things get any worse. You grip Michael's cold, bare hand tighter and hasten your pace, silently urging him to match yours. Eventually, you come across a shopping center, the lot marked by a sign with words already beginning to disappear under the snow. On the buildings, you can make out the logos of a law insurance firm, an ice cream parlor, a barbershop, and a department store, the latter dominating the most space in the center and looking the most promising for shelter. You approach the glass doors, elation washing over you as you push against them and find them unlocked.

"Where are we?" Michael asks as you usher him inside.

"A Sherry's," you answer, letting out a foggy sigh of relief from getting out of the wind. The inside of the store is dark, though the dim light peeking in through the doors helps you see well enough without needing to whip out the flashlight. It's still cold, but it's an improvement over being outside. Still holding Michael's hand, you direct him deeper into the store, eventually stopping at a dressing room in the center to let him rest on a bench. "Alright... Guess I might as well make the best use of our time here. See if I can't get us anything else to help with the cold like clothes and-"

"And strips of cloth?" he interjects.

"What?" you ask.

"Strips of cloth for bandages and stuff."

Huh. Shit, you didn't think about that at all. "Yeah, uh, good idea. I'll shred some, too. They might also have a medical kit somewhere, so I'll get it if I find it. Ah, uh, I should probably get ourselves warmed up first with something other than just clothing."

"What do you mean?" he asks, his eyebrows furrowing.

"I'm gonna set a fire. Don't think the alarm will go off, and I don't think the sprinklers will-"

"What about the smoke?" he interrupts.

"I mean, it won't activate the... Oh... Shit, it has nowhere to go and... Huh."

Well, double shit. One more thing you didn't think about.

"I, uh... don't think I'm as well-prepared for all of this as I thought," you sheepishly admit. "Well... I guess I'll, uh, see what kinda clothes I can get for you."

He gives a quiet grunt of approval as you leave to browse the store. While you don't think you'll be hurting for bandage material, the current season's catalog before the sudden snowstorm has thrown a wrench into your plan to scavenge for anything good to protect against the elements. Countless aisles of shorts, summer T-shirts, and dresses look perfect for a hot June day; completely worthless for what's likely to reach the single digits, if not even lower. Not even their clearance aisle has anything worthwhile beyond some sweatpants. At the very least, you found plenty of hoodies and sweaters, which will at least help further layer Michael up. Meanwhile, you've been eying up anything that looks like it could fit you on a second trip back.

You bring the clothes to Michael, who looks in your general direction as you approach, likely from the sound of your shoes tapping against the tile. Speaking of shoes, you can feel the snow has started to melt, prompting you to take them off after you place the clothes onto Michael's lap. "All right, there you go. Couldn't get much else, but I figured the extra layers would be good," you say as you start shaking out the snow.

"Thanks," he responds, setting the clothes beside him. "I know you said our food supplies aren't too well-off before we left, but what about water?"

"Got that covered, actually," you explain with a smile, flashing your fangs at your unaware companion. "Got a few milk jugs in my backpack, and I know a way to get good water without needing the pipes."

"It doesn't involve melting the snow, does it?" he asks as he tries to feel out what the first clothes on top of the pile are.

"Nope! Thankfully already know that's dirty water," you answer, retrieving a water jug and holding it out to Michael. You stand there expectantly for a split second before realizing your mistake, making him aware by tapping his hand with the jug and then taking off the cap.

He carefully grabs the jug and feels for the lip before raising it to drink. He takes several swigs before lowering it to let out a sigh.

"I'd, uh, make a joke about if you knew about toilet wine then you'll want to hear about toilet water, but I took it from the tank. It should be clean," you explain.

"Yeah, I don't taste anything in it. That kind of water should be good," he says, holding out the jug for you to take back.

You smile and give a silent, mental cheer as you accept it back, happy that you at least got one thing right from playing The Long Dark. After taking a drink yourself, you place it back inside your backpack and make a mental note to stock up in the restroom later.

"I'm going to look for something for myself to wear real quick. Let me know if any of those don't fit or if you need anything else," you say, leaving to check out the spots you previously saw.

As it stands, your current clothes are loose-fitting and far too large for your new body. Your shirt's sleeves need to be rolled up to free your hands, though it restricts your arms and snags against your fur. Your pants, meanwhile, are twice as bad. While you can mix them with a belt somewhat, their ends reach past your feet and need to be partially stuffed into your shoes to cramp up what little space was left. On top of that, you have a long, fluffy tail sticking out of your backside, forcing you to keep your pants lower to give the appendage room. Maybe you could rip a hole through your pants to stick it through, though the last thing you want to do is risk absolutely ruining your pants by fucking up the hole.

It's all an uncomfortable, awkward mess of an outfit. Although considering everything that's happened to you, you doubt you would feel any better even if you brave the elements completely naked. Sitting down feels awkward, moving your arms feels awkward, and even walking feels awkward. You want to sort something out, even if it means taking a sewing needle and stitching something together. Also, one other goal on the bucket list is to grab a new bra and underwear; the former is now too large, the latter too small, and you've been commando since the first day.

The first day was also awkward, especially among... other things. Waking up and falling out of bed with you now almost half your old size. No clothes fitting and the awkwardness of just trying to reach and grab things. The nonstop itching across your entire body. The lingering pain inside your bones. How hard it was to stand.

No one answered your calls. All the neighbors dead. You couldn't reach your parents. It hurt to breathe. You think that was the last day you saw the sun; the sky has been covered by the clouds ever since.

You saw something that would have been better dead.

You blink and return to reality, realizing you've been standing still, staring at the clothes in your hands. You've collected a few sizes of shirts and pants to try out, hoping to single out the best to put on first before layering more on top. For now, the only other things to grab are new undergarments. With your previous point of reference on what size fits you out of date, you opt to feel out which best fits. You lay the clothes on the ground beside you and start to strip, shivering as you expose your furred body to the chilled air. Reaching for the closest bra, you begin testing for the best fit in front of a small mirror.

You quickly test out how it fits before taking it off to throw to the ground, wincing as a few stray hairs get pinched by the fabric. Even though this makes the second time you've looked at yourself in the mirror, it's just as hard to come to terms with as it was the first. White fur covers nearly every part of your body, leaving only the canine pads on your hands and feet and the tip of your snout nose bare. Your head of human hair has changed from brown to white, mirroring the fur color. You run a clawed finger along the side of your skull, subconsciously expecting to feel the texture of where your ear once was, though you only find more fur as you trail your hand to the back of your head.

The newly changed and repositioned organs have moved to the top of your head, where two sharp pointed dog ears now rest. You can see them twitch and flick slightly in the mirror, though you don't know how to control them. Even in the dark, you can still see the bright, amber hue in your eyes, one of the few things that haven't changed about you. You open your mouth to look at your new canine- well, canines; a dozen sharp fangs decorate your mouth in replacement of several human teeth. Though the feeling has passed, you still remember the searing hot pain in your gums from when you woke up and how you were choking on a loosened tooth that you nearly swallowed in your sleep. The rest you found scattered along your bed and the floor, stained in dried blood- Or hell, you hope they were the rest.

You push your glasses up your snout, feeling the string you crudely glued to your now worthless earpieces go slack. While nowhere near a perfect fix, having the string loop around your wolf ears at least prevents it from completely sliding off. Trailing your eyes down to your body, you still lament how the mutation has taken away what feels like half of your height. Michael is practically a giant to you now, when before your change you think you might've been able to meet him eye to eye if you had ever met him before this all started. Now you're almost at eyesight with his chest, though only if you force yourself to try to stand up taller.

Continuing your examination, you still aren't sure if your breasts grew bigger or if they only feel that way on your shorter frame. You poke at the plush fur along your chest, wondering if that might have created additional padding. At the very least, your nipples still look like human ones, and not however a wolf's tits might've looked. On the thought of padding, it's almost impossible for you to ignore your belly past everything else that's changed. While you weren't a paragon of health before this, your old body was slimmer than it is now.

You don't think your new diet of "fuck it, eat everything" could've done that this quickly, though you don't have the right to doubt anything anymore with you now being a furry, human-animal homunculus and the things moving around outside. Maybe whatever caused this gathered all the fat in your torso and left you with a bit of chub after it crunched you down to a smaller size? Is that even possible- No, you already know that's not something to ask. You rub and prod at the fur on your body, wondering if perhaps it padded that out too. As you move your fingers around, you loudly gasp as it feels like a thousand nerves are stimulated at once. You take a moment to breathe and feel around the area again, fighting back the urge to gasp as you find a small bump buried under the fur.

You part aside the hair and look in the mirror, feeling the now all-too-familiar sensation of utter confusion as you discover what it is: another nipple. It's smaller in size than the two above it and is darker in color; just the act of exposing it to the air is almost unbearable, most likely from what could be new nerves wired into your system. Without wasting another second, you continue to feel along your body, fueled by a need to discover the missing twin and whether your body has received any more. Biting back your flinches, you eventually find a few other spots. With bated breath, you start to count them out in the mirror as you part aside the fur.

One.

Two.

Three?

Four. Four extra nipples. Each aligned symmetrically along your belly, all sensitive to the touch. Your hands shake as you brush the fur back over the new additions to your body, knowing full well that your frayed nerves are from unease. Just when you thought you at least retained something that wasn't like a dog, you found those. At the absolute very least, you know your genitals weren't changed, parting aside the thick tufts of fur covering your femininity.

Capping off your examination, you look at your legs, feet, and the tail lowered between them. Your legs have abandoned plantigrade design and are now entirely like a wolf's, even down to your clawed feet. While they're larger than any typical dog or wolf's feet, they still don't fit in your old shoes, and you doubt they ever will in any other. Your long, fluffy tail shifts and moves subconsciously, much like your ears, and you're similarly unsure of how to control it yourself. When you were able to get your bearings on the first day, it provided a different sense of balance as you were stumbling through your home, with you only able to get used to it after a week.

"Ava?"

"SHIT!" you hiss in surprise as you whirl around, now realizing you've looped back around to where you left Michael. Your hands reflexively move to cover your breasts and groin, though you quickly realize the futility of covering up in front of him. You almost can't help but laugh, though you restrain yourself and respond, "Sorry, you... Well, you spooked me a bit there."

"Are you okay? Was hearing you breathe weird for a while there."

Looking back at your reflection in the mirror, you answer, "Yeah, just, uh- I didn't expect the wires to be so cold. Was, eh, swapping out some clothes." Seemingly satisfied with your answer, Michael nods, still looking in your direction. Despite knowing he can't see you, you still feel uncomfortable standing in front of him naked, so you hurry your testing of bras and quickly redress. The cloth is cold, but hopefully, it will all become warmer with enough time. You rejoin Michael and stand beside him, his head following the sound of your feet and claws.

"Well, I got myself situated. Figured I'd check out the other stuff here and see if there's anything worthwhile," you say as you check your shoes to see if they're dry.

"Hmm. You should try to find a sewing kit if they have one here. It'll help out a lot with any tears or wounds."

"Good idea. Anything else?"

"I don't know, I don't think I've been to a Sherry's before. Just grab whatever you think will help," he answers, shrugging his shoulders.

Agreeing with his idea, you explore the opposite side of the store, walking by many aisles of random products separated from the clothes up the front. More than half of the aisles have plug-in electronics, all worthless in what's likely to be a permanent blackout, though you do grab several packs of batteries for the flashlight you brought with you from home. From what you could tell at a cursory glance, there are no sewing kits anywhere, just a dozen sewing machines. However, you do find several backpacks, likely intended for a back-to-school sale. None of them look any better than your current one, though it does give Michael something to help lug around anything extra that you can't carry. On top of that, you find comforters and pillows, making sure to grab two of each for you and Michael.

Something you hadn't considered as you fled from the neighborhood was the idea of sleeping on the ground. For a while, you expected that crashing on a couch or bed would be your go-to as you scavenged house to house. However, with Michael, the creatures outside, and the high likelihood of you both camping out in a random building, it seems likely that you'll both end up sleeping on cold, hard ground. You would grab more comforters either for warmth or to give yourself and Michael some privacy while sleeping, though you don't want to bear yourself or Michael down any more than you should. After checking out the other aisles, you conclude that there doesn't appear to be anything else worthwhile, so you return to Michael once again with your spoils in hand. "Hey, catch," you say, tossing the unrolled comforter over Michael's back.

You can see him flinch from the sudden touch and weight, though he quickly relaxes as he recognizes what you found. "You got a cover?" he asks.

"Yeah, got two and two pillows. We can use one to layer on the ground and sleep under the other. Or, uh, I guess use both to layer on the ground and just sleep in our clothes if it's warm enough," you respond. "Oh, I also found a backpack. I already got one, but it'll help us both out if you have one too."

"Great," he replies as he wraps the comforter closer to his body.

You unzip his backpack and place the comforter and two pillows inside as you take a seat across from him. The space isn't great, though you reckon you could fit the other comforter inside and maybe a few other things if you squish it all down enough. The side pouches can hold some stuff too, though they're nowhere near as accommodating as the main pouch. With that said and done, you let out a sigh and lean back to pop the bones in your neck. "All right, I don't think there's anything else to check out here. I couldn't find any sewing stuff. I guess if we're gonna stick here for a while I can hand you some food or try setting up a shit excuse for a bed, not unless you think I should go and check out the other stores next door."

"What's nearby?" he asks.

"Uh... I think it's an ice cream store, a hair-cutting place, and some insurance company. We're doing okay-ish on food and there might be some snack stuff near the cash registers, though I don't think we wanna eat ice cream in these kinda freezing temperatures."

"Well, calories are calories. It'd be better than nothing," he responds.

"Oh, uh... that's fair, I guess I'll head over there and grab a shitton of quarts then. How about the barber or insurance place?"

"Uh... some scissors would be good to have. Not sure about the other."

You sit and quietly mull on what you could find in a place like that. Probably regular office supplies, like paperclips, paper, staplers, maybe some- "Wait," you say, an idea coming to you as you start to grin. "They probably have staplers. We can use that to, like, staple cloth together!"

"Yeah, that'll work fine. Better than not having it, anyway."

You nod, once again realizing your mistake before vocally approving. "Awesome. I'll go and check them all out real quick," you say as you stand up. "Want me to do anything before I head out?"

"No, I should be fine. I'll probably just lie down on this seat and wait."

"All right, be back in a bit," you respond as you prep to leave, but before you slip your paws into the grossly non-fitting shoes, you realize that your feet are not cold. Confused, you reach down to touch the tile with your hands. You can feel the cold texture against your pads, though your feet simply aren't. Motivated further by confusion, you quickly leave Michael and exit outside, stopping just before the snow-covered sidewalk. You take an experimental step forward, pressing your foot deeply into the soft snow. Once again, you can feel the texture of the snow and the cold, but your foot feels fine; not even the furred flesh around your leg is chilled.

"How the fuck?" you mutter, wiggling your toes deeper into the snow with no effect. Before you can continue stuttering out of confusion, you recall your appearance in the mirror. Many nights of researching animals for your drawings flash through your mind, remembering one animal that appears the closest in resemblance to you: an arctic wolf. While you were hunting for pictures to use as a reference for a new character, you remember reading about how they survive in the arctic, particularly how they were able to regulate their body temperature despite their paws constantly being in the snow. Bewilderment washes over you as thousands of questions fly through your mind, all asking to what extent are you more like an animal and no longer a human, but...

You can't help but start laughing.

You toss your shoes aside and place your other foot into the snow, eagerly stomping your feet into the cold, soft mass like a child. Puffs of scattered flakes are kicked into the air as you excitedly test out the resistance of your legs, a part of you overjoyed that there is some benefit to your new body. With spirits high, you turn your attention to the barbershop, eagerly wading through the parking lot to the door. However, your happiness quickly sours to anxiety as you notice the damaged door, its glass window cracked and hinges damaged as it is left ajar opening inward into the store. The rampant thoughts in your mind go silent as you cautiously approach the door, carefully listening as you peer inside through the window. Various hair products are spread and trashed on the floor, though you see no sign of who or what might've caused it still being inside.

You want to avoid any confrontations, though you have no safe manner of telling if the area is clear or not. While perhaps the ground would tell if anything came or left by tracks, the nonstop snow would only help if it happened recently. You swallow the lump in your throat and slowly open the door to let yourself inside, continuing to scan the room for any hidden assailants. Thankfully, no such surprise came to pass as you approached the center, though the closed doors in the back left the question still up in the air. The only sound is from the wind blowing against the building outside, and if your nose is anything like a wolf's, you wouldn't know what to even smell for. Maybe whatever broke the door isn't in here if the ones in the back are closed, though you don't want to avoid testing that theory and be caught off-guard.

You lean down and pick up a bottle of shampoo from the ground, a loose plan coming to you. While making sure to back up to the exit just in case, you toss it to the back of the room, creating a loud clattering noise as it bangs against the door. You listen out for any response or movement, and your muscles tense up in anticipation. After a minute of silence, you let out a sigh of relief, content with the thought that you're truly alone. With that worry removed, you return your focus to the task at hand and begin pulling out drawers. You quickly find scissors after a few pulls, though you forgot that there's more than one kind.

Opting for what looks to be the most regular looking of the bunch, you stuff it into your pocket and take a quick look around the store for anything else worthwhile. You don't think you'll need more than one pair of scissors and hair products don't look to be useful at all, at least not until you and Michael can figure out some way to bathe, though that's an issue that's way down the bucket list. Hell, you aren't sure if this stuff can even work on you. Would you need to raid a pet store for dog shampoo? What if this stuff does something to your skin under the fur or something weird you wouldn't expect? You shake your head and leave the store, deciding to leave the questions for later.

Next door is the law insurance firm, a small room housing a front desk counter, a few chairs, and a wall separating the front from the small office in the back. The front door is unlocked, thankfully allowing you entry without much hassle. The stapler was also a quick find, quickly pocketing it along with the box of staples though a few pens and printer paper catch your attention. You could use it for journal keeping, though you don't think it'll matter much if there will be no one to see your writing; maybe for keeping your sanity, though you hope it won't come to that point as you're with Michael. Instead, you think about how you could draw to pass the time, even if it's been a long while since you've drawn traditionally despite doing it for a living online. You decide to take the pens and paper, concluding your search.

There's still the office proper to look through, but you can smell something beyond the door. A rotten meat scent past the cold air, pungent and sickening that makes it hard for you to not immediately gag. Your stomach churns at the thought of entering the same room with a corpse, especially if the smell is stronger inside. You know that survival matters above all else, but you decide against exploring further. You internally reason that there's no other purpose to scrounge around and waste time with Michael left by himself. Besides, you doubt you'll find anything worthwhile besides more worthless papers and pens.

With a stapler and scissors retrieved, the final stop is the ice cream store, and on the walk there you take a look around the parking lot as you wade through the snow. The cars around you are close to becoming nothing but featureless mounds of snow, each parked in random spots across the lot. You wonder if it's at all possible to rig one of the cars to work, having no luck getting inside several on the first week after the snow froze the doors shut and warm water was no longer an option. Although, you don't think you'll have much luck driving, not unless you get some form of stilts to press the pedals while still being able to look out the windshield. Michael isn't any better of an option, though you doubt it'll matter anyway with how awful the roads are now. Fuck, you aren't sure if a car will still be able to function if you drove straight into one of those things wandering around.

Your thoughts stop as you near the shop, your attention shifting to the large, broken window. The glass is shattered, allowing snow to blow inside, and pressed against the counter is a car. A thin layer of snow coats it, most likely from less exposure to the weather. A part of you wonders if the car crashed through here right when what you assume is some kind of disease struck, or if someone else piloted the car through the window to get inside. You step inside to investigate the driver's seat, only to freeze as a piercing pain flares through your foot.

You bite back the urge to yell out as you freeze in place, carefully leaning against the car to examine your foot. Stuck inside one of your paw pads is a glass shard, the jagged end just barely visible as a trickle of blood starts to leak out from the wound. It was then that you realized, 'Oh, yeah. I'm walking around barefoot, now.' You feel stupid for somehow not realizing the possibility of hurting yourself, all just because you could ignore the snow. Using the claws of your hand, you groan as you pluck at the glass shard from your foot, failing a few times before finally removing it. With blood trickling out of the fresh and painful wound, you look around the floor for a safe passage out, though the snow prevents you from being able to find a clear path.

Instead, you decide to back out, carefully tracing your footsteps back outside. Blood stains the snow as you hobble back to Sherry's, pain making you flinch with each step as you get back inside. You grab your discarded shoes and return to Michael in the center, true to his word and laying down while rolled up in the comforter. He looks up at the sound of your return and asks, "Did you find the stuff?"

"Hnf, yeah. Got scissors and a stapler, though I ste- Uh, cut myself on some glass trying to enter the ice cream place. Going to make myself a bandage," you explain as you grab a nearby shirt, using your scissors to cut a strip of cloth.

"Shit, hope it's not a bad cut," he responds. "Hmm... We should probably get disinfectant as soon as we can if that kind of thing happens again. Probably any kind of medicine we can find, too."

You wince as you tightly wrap the cloth around your foot, finishing the makeshift bandage with some staples to hold it together. It takes a few slams of the stapler to get it to punch through, but you manage to succeed.

"Yeah, though it's not something we can really carry around with us all the time if it's more specific kinda stuff. Probably only good to stockpile if we hunker down someplace for good." As you look down at the cloth bandage, an idea strikes you as you think about some form of socks that could keep you from fucking up your feet like before. "Uh, gimme a sec. Gotta patch up a cut in my clothes," you lie as you leave for the pants section.

You walk past several rows of khakis and shorts, stopping in front of the jeans display. You blindly pick a pair and start inserting your feet down the end of the pants legs. Dissatisfied with its looseness, you toss the jeans aside and move to a smaller size, testing each one by one until you find a pair that snugly fit around your feet. Finally, you cut into the legs, turning the pants into half-assed jeans and leaving yourself two makeshift, denim socks. You walk around and test them, happy that they stay in place and look like they can prevent any further incidents with glass, and return to Michael. "All right, got that sorted out. But yeah, medicine is going to be a bitch to deal with, isn't it? Probably other general things, too."

"I mean, what's stopping us, or I guess you, from staying here? Making this place a shelter?" he asks, sitting up in an attempt to better face you.

You try to think of an answer, though you struggle to think of something appropriate. "What about keeping ourselves warm?" you ask.

"I don't know, but we can probably make something work if we get some insulation. Maybe line up the walls with it."

Huh, something else you hadn't thought about. Definitely something to keep in mind when the time comes. "Well, food and water will be something to worry about, too. The supermarket is a long walk away from here and it doesn't seem right to situate ourselves away from there."

"That's... actually something I've been meaning to ask about. Why did we leave the apartment complex? I got a bit swept up in everything to forget asking, but couldn't you have started breaking down doors or windows to get the stuff other people have?"

Fuck.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

You never told him about the things outside. You haven't even come up with a convincing lie about it either. No other option than to rip the bandaid off, then. "I- Well, the reason for that is because of... these... things wandering around outside, and-" You're cut off as Michael brings his hands up to his mouth, blowing his hot breath into his palms. "Ah, shit, your hands are cold?" you ask.

"Y-Yeah, but, what 'things' are you talking about?" he responds, worry evident in his tone.

Sensing an opportunity to stall, you offer, "I should go find you some gloves. There, uh, might be some in the back. Might at least be something to cover your skin. I'll... get back to you about what I saw outside." Before he can insist you continue, you leave for the back of the store, giving yourself some time to think things through. Okay, talking about yourself is a no-go, but the freaks outside? Absolutely not. You don't think you can even really describe what they look like to him just by word; their disgusting, horrible looks can really only be witnessed with his own eyes. That is if he could see them, anyway.

You near the back doors leading to the stockroom, freezing in place as you start to smell something. The rotting scent from before, this time even more potent, and a buzzing sound where there is normally silence. You open the door, audibly gagging at the sight as the unasked question of where the employees are is answered. Five corpses lay on the ground, their chests and stomachs ripped open in nauseating brutality as flies feed at the meat inside. The floor is stained with blood and gore, though most frightening of all is a smeared trail of red leading to a shutter gate battered open from the outside. Even if you were clear of mind and not at risk of vomiting, you doubt you'd be able to tell just how recently the bodies were torn into; all you can think about is leaving as soon as you can.

Ignoring the sore pain in your foot, you run back to Michael. "We need to go, now," you command, grabbing his comforter to stuff into his backpack.

"Wh-What? Why?" he asks, his body pushed and shoved as you strip the cover from him.

"Something was in the back, I- I don't know when. We have to get out if it comes back, right fucking now!" you answer, failing to hide the panic in your voice. You quickly shove the comforter into the backpack and help Michael put it on. As soon as he's ready, you tightly grip his hand and hurry to the exit. You push open the glass doors and drudge through the snow with Michael nearly stumbling behind you at your hastened speed. You need to get away from the store as soon as possible, and seemingly on cue to reaffirm your decision, you hear the sound of broken glass behind you. Past the fog and nonstop snow, you can see it; one of the things that were prowling around outside the neighborhood.

It's something you can undeniably recognize as human, but can't ever truly call such. Its form defied all reason, yet each is unique in its own manner of disgusting mutilation. This one's body is round and lumpy with an elongated torso, the various swellings each the size of volleyballs, all decorate it haphazardly and stretching out what used to be a loose flowing dress. Bright blue veins furnish the skin surface of the tumor-like parts, visible even from a far distance. The limbs are gangly and misshapen, one arm uselessly curled in on itself against the side as the other stretches out six feet with pulsating, twisted muscles. The legs, meanwhile, are seemingly spared the disgusting mutations, both normal in appearance and somehow capable of transporting the beast despite its weighted form.

What disturbs you the most is its face. You can make out its long, blonde hair and its feminine features, informing you it used to be a woman with what used to be a pretty dress tightly clinging to her body. Her face almost looks normal, but the skin is taut and stretched back, revealing her blood-stained teeth in a permanent smile. The pink insides around her eyes are visible, glistening in the dim light as her eyes scan her surroundings. She breathes in greedy gulps through her mouth, almost appearing to struggle to even stay alive. All of your being wishes she would collapse, her body no longer capable of sustaining itself and dying on the spot, though the once-human still breathes despite your high hopes.

Her eyes look into the law firm, its window shattered by her bloodied hand. After she slowly stumbles inside, a minute of silence passes before being broken by the sound of a wooden door being smashed to pieces. Then, you hear a loud, nearly inhuman cry. Howling echoes through the quiet street, shrill and long before finally ending. You shudder violently at the thought that she could tell there was a body there, hoping that it's all just unfortunate happenstance. Before your worries can escalate further, you hear Michael whisper, "What was that?"

You grip Michael's hand tighter and look to the ground. Snowflakes pepper your body as your mind draws a blank, uncertain about breaking the news to your blind companion. You swallow dryly and decide on the only answer you can come up with. "Th-That's an animal. It... It doesn't look like one anymore, but... those things are why I left the neighborhood. And the apartments," you whisper back. You can feel his hand grip yours in return, his expression twisting into worry as he mulls things over in his head. "W-We should keep moving. Find someplace else," you quietly urge, guiding Michael down the street and away from what used to be human.