FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

"Hello?" I mewed timidly, taking apprehensive steps down the hall.

I stared around anticipating Cooper to leap out and scare the shit out of me again, but I saw no one. And this hall went on forever--door after door after door. This building had to be enormous. Either way, I was seriously regretting descending those stairs. I mean me--a host? The thought of it was completely out of this world, and the further along I went and the more I thought, the more I felt like Alice tumbling down the rabbit hole. I was in an entirely foreign place where I felt I didn't belong, one which made me wonder to myself "curiouser and curiouser."

But curious didn't begin to cover this place. There were enormous oil paintings in gaudy, gold-leaf frames along the walls; the wall paper itself was a deep maroon with interlaced diamond patterns that hurt my eyes if I stared too long; crystal chandeliers swayed and clinked listlessly over my head; a few oaken, clawfooted end tables, lounge sofas and chairs were spaced along the hall, each one plush, polished and glistening as if it had just been pulled new from the cargo of an English trade ship.

The Victorian style was a bit overwhelming in itself, but then there were the clocks--an incessant multitude of clocks.

There were grandfather clocks, cuckoo clocks, clocks the size of my chest, and clocks that could fit in the palm of my hand. The ticking of them was nearly coma-inducing--the metronomic rhythm echoed in my skull like a hypnotic song--and I began to wonder if I was indeed falling into Wonderland. The leopard had pressured me not to be late after all, and as I passed by an ornate mirror of woven brass and glanced at myself in it, I thought that I'd even sprouted white rabbit ears...

I chuckled, but then I paused. I backtracked and did a double-take of my reflection. That couldn't be right. Was I losing my mind after all? Falling through the looking glass? I leaned forward and squinted hard at myself. I did have rabbit ears. Or...

"Hi!"

I squealed and jumped, my hand clamping down on the rose I held. I hissed as I felt the sting of barbs piercing my flesh, and I reeled to find that I'd had a shadow--a white shadow...with a cotton tail. "What the hell, kid," I spat as I opened my palm and plucked out the thorns that had broken off in my pad. Blood began to pool in the cuts, and a drop tumbled off and dotted the white carpet before I could do anything to stop it. "Damn."

The rabbit just eyed the red blotch between my feet, frowning. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you." He looked up with the most innocent, cherub-like eyes. "Please don't be angry."

Ugh. Kids. "I'm not mad. You just surprised me." I clamped my paw closed to keep the blood from flowing freely.

"You want a hanky? Here..." He plucked a handkerchief from the breast pocket of his red coat and offered it to me. I took it with a grin of thanks and gripped it tightly in my bloody paw.

"I appreciate it."

"Mmhmm," he uttered.

The rabbit cocked his head to the side, and his enormous ears--which were all I'd been able to see of him before--flopped over to the side as well and lay limp against his cheek. He'd been hidden behind my back because, minus the impressive pinna, he was less than five feet tall.

He watched me wide-eyed, bobbing on his toes and not saying a word more. It was totally creepy. I returned the gesture with a pinch of disbelief. He looked to be about thirteen years old. Why was he here? He couldn't be a host could he? I looked over him inquisitively, and, based on his clothes, he had to be a host. The job required lots of roleplaying, and his outfit was way too...costumey. C_ute, but more suited for...well..._Alice in Wonderland. He was the White rabbit.

"Proper intro now," he chirped. His puffball tail gave an enthusiastic wiggle. "I'm Micah." He reached out a paw and smiled wide revealing his buckteeth.

I daintily shook it, careful not to drip anymore blood. "Hello."

"It's nice to finally meet you," he said, pocketing his hands in his red waistcoat. "Charming's been talking about you for aaaaaages."

My head bobbed in confusion. "What? Charming?"

His eyes widened briefly, but then he just shrugged and smiled again. "Oh. I thought he'd already told you about our host names."

My tail flicked. Stage names, huh? What the leopard said before made more sense now, though: "You may leave here tonight with a new name and a new method to passing the time." More surprises--fantastic.

"No; no one's really told me anything." I cleared my throat and thumbed a thorn of the rose in my unhurt hand. "So, what's your stage name?"

"Host name," he corrected. "And it's Peter."

I couldn't hold back the chuff that slipped through my teeth. "Cute. Like Peter Rabbit?"

The little guy blushed, and his ears turned a rosy-pink. "Yeah; it's childish, but that's my gimmick."

I cocked an eyebrow. "Gimmick?"

"Don't worry," Micah said with a grin. "You're about to get the lowdown on how things work around here, and we get to see if you have what it takes to be one of us."

"Uh." I stared blankly at him. "I never said I wanted to be one of you. I was..."

"Dragged here unknowingly," he interrupted. "I know. That's usually how it works. It's how I was inducted."

"Kidnapped, you mean," I said bristling.

He hopped giddily in place. "Precisely! But members only choose you to join if they think you're worthy of a name..."

"Micah," someone said from behind the rabbit. I peered between the kid's enormous ears to see we were standing in front of a door. It was cracked open, and someone was speaking through the slit. All I could see of them was a bright, hazel eye and long, long, long, silky sandy-blonde fur. "Quit bugging him and let him go. You know how peeved Rosa gets if someone's late for their first evaluation."

Micah whimpered a little and made puppy dog eyes to the...well, to the eye. "But, Hoyte..."

"No buts," Hoyte said sternly through the crack, his hazel iris popping as his pupil shrank. "He'll get into trouble, Rosa won't like him, and then what will we do?"

"Fiiiiiiiiine," Micah groaned, turning back to me. "You'd better go."

"Okay."

I waved sheepishly and turned to continue on my way.

Freaking crazy, I thought to myself. Get me out of this place.

"Good luck!" Micah called after me. I tossed a reflexive smile over my shoulder, and then I heard the door close to a murmur of voices. I opened my stuck hand to check if the wounds were still bleeding, and they weren't--the handkerchief was gone though. I paused and turned back while scanning the floor thinking I had dropped it, but no. I then eyed the door that Micah had entered. Did he...did he take it back? "Huh," I said shrugging. It was his hanky after all. Whatever. I turned back and kept walking.

The hallway finally ended, and with it the mind-numbing ticking of those clocks. I wriggled a finger in my ear as if to empty it of the residual sound, and then I peered around the vast sitting room which I'd entered.

It was an expanse of white. I thought I'd wandered into a temple of alabaster. The walls and ceiling and floor were white, the sofas were white, the dining tables were white, the lamps were white, and there was even a white Grand piano atop a white stage far across the room. Everything was so pristine, like newly fallen snow glittering in the sunlight of an early morning. It hurt my eyes to look. I'd have a migraine before the night was done, whether from the room or from whatever else may happen.

"H...hello?"

"Mr. Curtis," a sultry, female voice beckoned from a high-back lounge chair in the center of the room. She was turned away from me, looking toward the stage, but I could make out a pair of bare feet dangling to the floor and curled atop of one another from where I stood. A black furred hand rose above the top of the chair's back and curled a finger at me. "Over here, dear."

I took a step and froze. Was I going to do this? Was I going to go through with this...evaluation? I shook my head and then hustled across the room while doing my best to seem like I wasn't rushing. I just wanted to get this whole debacle over with. I was going to meet this woman eye to eye, tell her that I did not want to be a host--that it was an honor to be considered I guess--apologize, and leave. I might even be able to catch my Doctor Who episode. So, relatively confident, I weaved my way around the enormous chair and opened my mouth...

"Sit," the woman commanded, not even looking up from a folder she had as she pointed toward a twin of her chair before her.

I would not be moved. "Mam..."

A black cat herself, Rosa's pupils retracted into sharp diamonds as she looked up and glared. "Sit."

So I sat.

She looked down at her folder again and then held out a paw and wriggled her fingers. I stared at her upturned palm stupidly for a moment before realizing she wanted the envelope I'd been given. This evaluation process must be a routine for her. She didn't seem too enthused about it. Nervously, my arm shaking, I went to put the envelope in her hand and dropped it instead. My throat clenched as she growled faintly. Out of the corner of my eye I saw her tail twitching, and I quickly snatched the thing off of the floor and stuck it between her fingers.

"Thank you," she sighed.

I peered at her both curiously and fearfully. I could tell right away that this woman didn't take crap from anybody. She was gorgeous--frighteningly seductive looking--and her appearance was only enhanced by her clothes and how they popped out of the white of the room. Her ebony black fur and red, shoulder length hair were flawlessly trimmed, and her dress--layers of crimson silk and lace. She was a queen, a Rose, and I bet her thorns were lethal. She only confirmed that suspicion by unsheathing a manicured claw and slicing open the envelope with one fluid swipe.

I gulped. She pulled out the Salem card, grinned at the black cat on the front, and then flipped it over and read whatever the leopard had written on it. A smile swept across her muzzle but vanished just as quickly, and she glanced suspiciously at me before placing the card in the folder she had.

"Very good," was all she said.

Then she grew eerily silent as she continued to look through the folder, flipping through pages of things. I couldn't help but feel like a suspect in for questioning or interrogation. Surely, though, she wouldn't take things that seriously. But apparently this wasn't the first time Rosa had heard of me. Whoever this Charming fellow was--and I had a hunch--he'd wanted me here for some reason, and I didn't think it was as simple as me becoming a host. So this situation was a bit serious. Things were being hidden. I continued to watch Rosa flip through the pages of the folder, and my anxiousness grew with each page turned. It's not like I had anything to hide, but this was just a club--was a backg...

Something clicked in my overwhelmed brain. I groaned. "Background evaluation," I thought out loud, finally putting two and two together. Yeah, something was definitely up with this place if they went that far when finding hosts. But I guess you can't trust just anyone to interact on such a sensual level with customers. Wouldn't want an ex-con serving you tea or running their fingers through your hair would you?

Rosa coughed and closed the folder with a pop. She then stuck it in between the cushion and crossed her legs. "Everything checks out for you, Mr. Curtis. Now..." She stared intently at me. I shuddered a bit and shimmied in my chair. "Tell me some things."

I cleared my throat. "Um, okay."

"How long have you lived here in Charleston?"

I counted off on my fingers; it was sad really that I couldn't remember. "Four years? Give or take."

"You're major at the college?"

"English and Education."

She smiled. "Very good. And do you have a job?"

"No."

"Friends?"

"N...no."

"What about your family then? I bet your parents call every day, huh?"

Was she baiting me? Shouldn't she have known this from the evaluation? I sank into myself. It had to come to that--me forcing the words from my mouth. "I've never met my parents," I said flatly. "They gave me up for adoption the very day I was born. I lived in foster houses until I was old enough to get out on my own."

"Oh, sweetie," she mewed. "I'm...I'm so sorry."

I shook my head. "It's fine." I just hoped she wouldn't ask anything else like that. I felt bad enough as it was already. Bringing up my disgruntled past wouldn't help matters in the slightest.

She watched me softly for a minute or two before clearing her throat. "One last thing." She pulled a small remote out of a fold of her dress, and then she aimed it toward the ceiling, smiling coyly. "Is this you?" She pressed a button and music began to spill out of the walls. I peered around expecting to see speakers, but they must have been hidden...or painted white too, blending in with everything else.

I listened intently at the music. I knew the song: "Where the Story Ends" by The Fray. Why was she... Then the lyrics began. The singer wasn't who I anticipated, though. I blushed red hot as my voice carried silky-soft about the room. Then I remembered--this was from a talent show I'd entered two years ago at school. How had she gotten the recording?

She smiled softly at my distress. I hated listening to my own voice. "Is it you, Mr. Curtis?"

Moaning I hid my face in my hands and nodded.

"Now, now," she clucked. "Don't be ashamed. You're quite talented...ahhh, yes, indeed." The higher point of the song had begun, and she closed her eyes and seemed to savor the sound. It was both flattering and a little creepy.

She cut the track with the click of another button and pulled her elegant legs up into her chair.

"How did you get that recording?" I asked before she could begin with questions again. My tail flicked about in the floor between my feet. Rosa peered at it briefly before she looked to me. "And, if you don't mind," I continued. "Will you tell me why I'm here exactly?"

"Because," she said reclining her head in the chair. Her red hair wound like ribbon around her neck, and she twiddled with a particularly curly strand, wrapping it round a finger. "We need you."

I frowned. "Is that..."

"I'm not done," she snapped. I clamped my mouth shut. "It's also because we need who you are..." She tapped her chest. "On the inside." My brow furrowed. This was beginning to sound like a cliché inspirational movie on Lifetime. "We need your outside too, of course." Okay, superficial cliché inspirational Lifetime movie. "I mean--goodness--when Charming said the resemblance was uncanny I had my doubts, but..." She shook her head in disbelief and my skin tingled for some reason. "You are Salem; inside and out."

"Mam," I said. "Who is Salem? I've heard the name a few times, and I'm guessing he's the guy on the wall outside and on the card, but...what does he have to do with me, with this place? Who is he?"

She chuckled warmly. "Salem was the founder of this little club back in the day. He was an astounding performer and entertainer, a romantic like no lover ever was, and someone who took pride in making everyone around him as happy as they could be." She stared off into space; her eyes clouded as she let past memories play out in her mind. "Those days when he'd sing, when he'd pour out his soul on stage, not a fur went away without tears in their eyes and a fire in their hearts." I sat motionless as she began humming and smiling dreamily, but then she pulled herself back into reality and peered longingly at me. "We need that again; we need Salem. We need you."

"But," I mumbled.

"I know," she interrupted again. "It's a lot to take in, but after listening to you and hearing about you I'm convinced..."

I held up a paw. "Whoa; who exactly have you heard about me from? This Charming, guy?"

She purred a soft laugh. "Not quite." She reclined and tossed her legs over the arm of her chair. "Although, they do know you incredibly well--I'll tell you that. Everything they've said has been true to their word so far."

Why was she avoiding telling me who she was talking about? "Who's this "they?"

"A friend."

"A host?"

She shrugged and smiled. "On occasion. Not so much anymore."

"Do they have a name?"

"Oh yes," she sighed. "King."

Well, I didn't know anyone named King, but I did know about names around here. Therefore, King could be a real name or a host name. I had nothing to go on there, but whatever; I wasn't here to play twenty questions about the fur who sold me out.

"Anyway," Rosa continued. "I'm convinced you have what it takes to fill a most prestigious role. Or at least..." She looked me over. "You have the potential. I can work with what you have. I can make you into Salem, and then you can bring the life back into this place. We can all make it as it used to be."

"Um," I muttered, staring wide-eyed. "No offense, but..." I shrugged. "You're crazy."

No reaction from her. She just gazed at me, waiting for me to elaborate.

"I mean, I'm not like your Salem at all. You've no idea how shy I am, how socially awkward. I'd just ruin the reputation of this place by pretending to be someone I'm not." I shrugged halfheartedly. "I mean, why not just get the real Salem to perform? I'm sure..."

"He's dead."

I choked on the words I was about to say--literally. Rosa watched me passively as I coughed. My eyes began to water and I wiped them quickly with the back of my paw. I felt ashamed. "I'm so sorry," I said. "I had no idea."

She grinned weakly. "How could you have, dear? And it's alright. I say he's dead, but he's still alive in some respects."

"Oh. I understand. He's still here in spirit, right?"

"Yes," she agreed. "And, I'm convinced; he's alive in you too."

I groaned. "Miss Rosa, please..."

What was with this woman? She didn't know me; she just didn't understand that I wasn't a performer. The only things that I astound are the furs around me who can't comprehend that I like being alone. I couldn't be Salem--ever.

"You heard me," she said. "You can do this, and you're going to prove it." She then rose from her seat and glided to me with her paw extended. "Come."

I just stared at her, frowning. "I can't; it's not who I am. I'll never be who Salem was--who you want me to be."

"Never say never, Mr. Curtis," she said. She wiggled her paw. "Now come. I know potential when I both see and hear it, and..." She winked. "I love proving furs wrong. I'll make you take back your words and get you to see what you cannot."

Lord. I guess I had no choice. I rolled my eyes and begrudgingly took her paw. I'd try to let her down easy...maybe.

The ruffles of her dress fell over her feet, and she seemed to glide as she led me across the room to the piano on the stage I'd seen before. She hopped nimbly up, letting my paw go, and went to sit at the Grand and pluck a few harmonious notes. The music stopped as she saw me standing offstage. I couldn't hide the fact that I was shaking.

"Come on, dear," she beckoned. "There's no need to be nervous."

I bristled. "I have every right to be nervous."

"Daniel--may I call you Daniel?"

"Danny."

"Oh, Daniel," she said.

Did she even hear me? I rolled my eyes and cocked a hip. If she was any more persistent and stubborn I'd think she was half Ass...err...donkey.

"I've already heard you sing, but I want someone to sing with you so I can be sure of your abilities."

Sighing, I reluctantly stepped onto the stage. "Were you and Salem a duet?"

She grinned warmly and patted the spot on the bench next to her when I came around. "We were. There was a connection between us like no other. We just clicked as partners in everything we did. Singing was just his biggest passion."

I sat. "It's really unlikely that we'll have the same thing."

"You never know," she said softly, peering sideways at me. "But I'm not quite ready to find that out just yet."

"Huh? I thought that..."

"Rosa?"

The fire-haired feline smiled over my shoulder. "Over here, Hoyte."

The bench squeaked beneath my jeans as I swiveled around to see the mysterious eye from before--you know, plus a body.

"Daniel, this is Hoyte Walters; he'll be singing with you. Hoyte, this is..."

"We've met," Hoyte chuckled. "Well, kind of. Still..." He waved bashfully. "Hello there."

"Uh, y...yeah. Hi." I mumbled.

My first thoughts upon fully seeing Hoyte were "What the hell kind of species is he?" and "Why is he so damn pretty!?" He stepped onto the stage with his straight jeans stretching tight over solid, muscular, legs; he wore a Union Jack tee shirt that hugged his toned upper body like plastic-wrap; and draping, elegant arms swayed by his sides as he sauntered over. I just stared; he had beautiful proportions. And his sandy-blonde fur--good God--it was glistening, silky, and long. From his head, his hair (which was blonde too) was brushed to one side and flowed across the right side of his face, concealing one eye and tapering to the top of his chest; off the back, it tumbled down and around his neck into a thick, glossy mane; it spilled down his arms, tufting at his elbows, and it almost weaved into a sheet on his forearms. I bet if he held his arms to the sides the fur would curtain to hip height. And his tail--it was lengthy and tapering like a fox's, but the fur was so feathery that it dangled down instead of pointing in the direction of the appendage. In many ways he looked like a fox, but in just as many ways he looked like a dog. I gazed and gazed, trying to figure him out, but...

He chuckled. "You can ask me. It'll save you from guessing."

I gave a start and blushed. I guess I was looking too hard. He must have gotten that same reaction from others often. "I'm sorry," I said.

"No, no," he clucked, sweeping his bangs to the right with a paw. "You're fine."

"He's a Zerda Afghan," Rosa said. "A foxhound."

"Literally," Hoyte said. "Half Afghan half Fennec; the fur and the ears usually give me away."

I peered up at his big, bat-like pinna, saw how his nose buttoned a tad and muzzle tapered ever so slightly. "I see it now." Then I lost control of my tongue...and my gayness. "You're gorgeous," I drooled.

Rosa chirped a laugh. Hoyte stood rigid for a moment, but then he grinned wide and snickered as I turned red. "Thanks," he said. "You're sweet." His immaculate tail wagged. "And you're not too bad yourself."

My face was aflame.

"Okay, boys, turn down the heat," Rosa said. "Let's make some music."

I just turned and stared at the piano keys while Hoyte came over to stand behind Rosa. She rifled through some sheet music while Hoyte looked on, and I leaned over to look myself. The songs were all show tunes from, like, the forties.

"Hmm," Rosa mumbled. "These are rather old-hat. You probably don't know them, Daniel."

No kidding.

Then all three of us jumped as the hidden speakers popped.

"Then maybe we..."

"Can be of assistance."

Rosa looked about and Hoyte shook his head grinning.

"Boys," Rosa said, speaking to nothing but thin air. "How many times do I have to tell you to stay out of the music control room?"

The two voices laughed and blended together perfectly.

"But we have to practice..."

"If we're going to be DJ's for the club."

"So give us a song you want to sing, Danny-cat..."

"And we'll get you started."

I looked to Hoyte and he rolled his eyes. "Those are the twins: Kalen and Luka. The sauciest lions you'll ever meet--ever; especially when they're together.

"Which is always," Rosa said.

""And forever,"" the twins said at the same time.

Help me, I begged the universe.

"So what's it going to be, Daniel?" Rosa asked.

"I'm good with anything," Hoyte said smiling.

I absentmindedly plucked another key of the piano. The pressure I was feeling--of wanting to leave, of wanting to stay, of wanting to prove to myself that this was the stupidest idea, of wanting to prove that it was the best thing to happen to me in ages--it was all so overwhelming. I knew I could do it; singing was something I was actually okay at. But taking the steps out into the spotlight and feeling the heat of them, feeling the heat of the crowd's stares, was my issue. I loathed the idea of opening myself up to furs I didn't know. My raw feelings and emotions weren't for anyone else and they should stay inside of me. I couldn't offer my heart and soul out to the world. I couldn't get hurt...again. Pain is all I've known, but I wouldn't take on any more if I didn't have to. I...

Then Cooper's voice poured out through the speakers. "Danny."

I froze. My skin tingled. I looked up and about.

"You can do this," he said. "And I have the perfect song: "I Won't Give Up." I know you know it too. Now get ready, okay? You'll be fine. Hoyte's got your back."

Hoyte winked when I looked to him. "You know it. We all have one another's backs."

"Yep," an excitable voice agreed. I looked to find Micah propped against the stage. Where had he come from? "That's what families do," he said.

Family--I'd never truly had one of those. I swiveled my head around to take in the faces around me: Rosa, Hoyte, Micah. Cooper and the twins included, everyone was so...supportive, so encouraging. The only other person to ever treat me so kindly was Lincoln. Maybe...maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all.

I stood, filled suddenly with excitement and energy. "Okay, let's do it."

"Over here," Hoyte beckoned. I padded over to him, ignoring the sickening slosh of my stomach, as he grabbed two microphones. He handed me one and nudged me playfully as I stood stock-still and stared out at the empty room. "Relax," he said. "You like to sing, right?"

"Y...yeah," I said.

"You do it in front of people often?"

I shook my head. "No. I'm nervous right now and there are only you guys here."

He chuckled and brushed his bangs to the side again. "You're fine. Just do what I do."

"What's that?"

He tapped his noggin. "Think of someone you love, someone you hate--whatever the music calls for--and sing to them. Not to the crowd, but to that person in your heart. You're the performer, a vessel of raw emotion, and singing to random people has never done it for me." He grinned, and his feathery tail wagged. "It's fun, but when I want to make others feel something I have to sing for the right reason, to the right person." He cocked his head to the side and his brow arched. "Am I making sense?"

"Yeah," I said. "I understand." I'd never thought of singing that way, but--as I pondered--I realized I did that all of the time: Sang to one person in particular. I closed my eyes and thought a moment. A face--if it was real or not--flashed before my clenched eyes. It was the image of someone I'd never seen; they were a figment of both my imagination and my reality. "I'll try it your way. Thanks."

"No problem," he said. "We can just go back and forth on the verses. I'll nod at you when I want you to take over, okay?"

I gulped. "Okay."

He smiled, and then he nodded and tossed up a paw.

Immediately the music began to play. The soft, breezy guitar chords filled the room, and Hoyte winked at me before taking the first verse. His voice made my skin tingle:

When I look into your eyes It's like watching the night sky Or a beautiful sunrise There's so much they hold And just like them old stars I see that you've come so far To be right where you are How old is your soul?

He winked at me and smiled, and something in his eyes made a knot rise in my throat.

I won't give up on us Even if the skies get rough I'm giving you all my love I'm still looking up

He nodded to me, and I once again called up the image in my head. My voice seemed to come of its own accord then. I lost myself in the song right off the bat. My heart had something to say.

And when you're needing your space To do some navigating I'll be here patiently waiting To see what you find

I guess Hoyte--and everyone--hadn't expected that I could go so high when the fourth verse came. I surprised myself, but a fire had been lit in me. I was singing to her, to him...

'Cause even the stars they burn Some even fall to the earth We've got a lot to learn God knows we're worth it No: I won't give up

I looked to Hoyte, who was watching me in awe, and we shared the next three verses in perfect harmony almost. My heart was beating furiously, and I felt tears welling up but I blinked them away. I blinked and saw them. Why? Why did they abandon me?

I don't wanna be someone who walks away so easily I'm here to stay and make the difference that I can make Our differences they do a lot to teach us how to use The tools and gifts we got, yeah, we got a lot at stake And in the end, you're still my friend at least we did intend For us to work we didn't break, we didn't burn We had to learn how to bend without the world caving in I had to learn what I've got, and what I'm not, and who I am

I won't give up on us Even if the skies get rough I'm giving you all my love I'm still looking up, still looking up.

I won't give up on us (no I'm not giving up) God knows I'm tough enough (I am tough, I am loved) We've got a lot to learn (we're alive, we are loved) God knows we're worth it (and we're worth it)

Here Hoyte stopped. I saw him step back from his microphone out of the corner of my damp eyes. My throat burned as though my words were fire leaving my lips. The last verse wasn't just part of the song anymore. It was a declaration from the very light of my soul.

I won't give up on us Even if the skies get rough I'm giving you all my love I'm still looking up

The music ended. I stood motionless with my paws clamped onto the mic-stand before me. Then it bowled over--my sadness. My head drooped, and tears poured freely to dribble onto the stage. My chest ached from my ragged sobs. I wanted to topple over. The pain I'd repressed for so long had come back with a vengeance. I couldn't take it anymore, couldn't handle it by myself any longer.

"Hey, hey," Hoyte cooed. Then I felt his warm arms envelop me and pull me into his chest. "It's alright, Danny. It's alright."

I just leaned against him and cried. I heard sobs echoing my own from off stage, and then there were pops of rapid footsteps against the floor. A door slammed. Hoyte winced. Then there was another set of arms embracing me. I peered down and saw white-furred hands clasped around my stomach.

"Don't cry, brother," Micah sniffed.

Steeling myself a bit, I leaned away from Hoyte who smiled so warm and sweet. My heart still burned, but it...it was from happiness. Happiness? I thought I'd never ever feel such a thing, but there it was all around and within me. I'd unburdened a mighty weight from my shoulders, and I was embraced because of it. I expected to fall and crumple without anyone to help me back up again, but there were arms keeping me from plummeting--keeping me together and standing.

I patted Micah's hands, and he poked his head through the crook of my arm and smiled. "Thank you," I said to both him and Hoyte. Then I looked to the little rabbit and wiped my eyes. "Why'd you call me brother?"

"Because," he said. "You are now. Well, if you want to be."

My ears perked. "You mean..." I jerked my head toward where Rosa had been, but..."Where'd she go?" I looked around, but then I recalled the other sobs and the sound of someone running. My stomach twisted. "Oh no, did I..."

"No, no, no," He said, looking toward the closed door of the sitting room. "She just gets really emotional sometimes. And, well..." He shrugged and nodded toward me. "You not only look like Salem, but you...you sing like him too. It's...really amazing."

"I hurt her," I mumbled.

"No!" Micah squealed. "You didn't. You made her really happy! The happiest I've ever seen her since..."

"Since Salem died," I finished for him.

Micah nodded. "You have to stay, Danny." He squeezed me tight around the middle again. "You have to."

I looked to Hoyte for advice, and he reached out and patted me atop the head. I didn't have brothers, obviously, but...if I had, I'd want them to be just like Hoyte and Micah.

"It's up to you, Danny," Hoyte said. He then strode to the piano, plucked something from the bench, and came back. It was a scrap of paper, and he held it out to me after looking at it. "But Rosa was blown away."

I took the scrap and read it:

"Beautiful. Salem would be proud. You'd honor him by sharing his name.""

"So," I said. "This means..."

"Yes." Swiveling, I found Cooper surveying me next to the stage with his tail wagging. "You're more than welcome to join us here, Danny. What do you say?"

"Do consider it," a familiar voice said. It was the handsome leopard from earlier. He was leaning against the piano while two lions--who could only be Kalen and Luka--tapped out chopsticks together.

The twins looked rather young. Not as young as Micah, but maybe eighteen or nineteen; they didn't even have manes, nor did they show any signs of growing one. Their reddish-brown hair was spiked, tan fur smooth, and the only difference between them was the color of their clothing. They were both dressed in an urban, skater fashion--V-neck tees, striped hoodies partially unzipped, straight jeans with holes here and there, studded belts, and big-belled headphones around their necks--but one favored purple and black while the other chose white and blue.

The twin in purple held up a paw and grinned. "I'm Luka."

The twin in blue likewise held up a paw, smiling. "And that makes me Kalen."

They were adorable. "Nice to put a face to the voices," I said.

Luka cocked an eyebrow. "'A' face?"

"Hah," Kalen chuckled.

Glad one of them got it.

"Anyway," Kalen said. "You've got a great voice, bro."

"Better than great," Luka agreed.

"You should totally stay,"" they said simultaneously with a mirrored smirk.

"Well," I mumbled. Then movement out of the corner of my eye made me turn to look. There was someone standing at a door off to the side of the sitting room, and they were--he was--devilishly handsome. He looked like a black panther, because he was much too stocky to be a cat like me or Rosa. He caught me staring, sneered, and disappeared through the door. I turned to Cooper who was peering toward where the panther had been. He was frowning. "Who was that?" I asked.

"Decker," he said. "He's a...uh..."

""A dick,"" the twins said together.

"Guys," Hoyte scolded. "Don't be so..." He rolled his eyes. "Okay, yeah, he's kind of a dick."

"Don't worry about him," Cooper told me. He then stepped onto the stage, thumbed up his glasses, and crossed his arms while smiling toothily. "So, are you in, Danny Curtis? Or should I call you Salem?"

I chewed on the inside of my cheek and twiddled my thumbs. "Well..." I knew what I wanted; it was an easy decision now. Besides, what more did I have to lose? I'd apparently already gained a family--five brothers--and a love interest. I'd made Rosa happy. I guess I'd make the rest of them happy too. I smiled up at Cooper. "Okay. I'm in, Cooper Hughes. Or should I call you Charming?"

He laughed heartily, composed himself, and then he bowed elegantly with a flourish of arms and tail. "Either one will do, as I am both," he said proper-like.

There was a chorus of groans from the others.

"Give us a break," the twins said.

Cooper crossed his arms again and sulked. "Thanks guys. I love you all too."

I couldn't help but laugh. Micah chuckled along with me, his arms still around my waist.

* * *

"Why?" Rosa pleaded. She wiped tears from her eyes as she gazed into the shadows. She knew he was there. She knew he was smiling, leaning against the shelf where all of her most prized possessions were kept. "Why have you done this to me? Why now?"

"Rosa," he said calmly. "You know I'm not trying to hurt you."

"Yes!" she cried, stepping toward him bathed in darkness. "I know that, but you knew that it would hurt me--_kill me--_especially after everything that has happened!"

"You're not happy to see him?"

She stumbled over her words. "N...yes, of...of course I am, but..."

"I mean, after Salem died he was all you could talk about. I heard you countless times in your office wishing you could have him back, wishing you hadn't done it."

"I...I know."

"So, here he is." Rosa jumped as the folder she'd had earlier was tossed onto her desk next to where he stood. The papers inside spilled forth and spread across the surface. "All of the records indicate that he was given up for adoption upon his birth on October 31st, 1990 at Gaston Medical in North Carolina. He was four weeks premature; weighed four pounds and seven ounces."

"Stop," Rosa groaned, wrapping her arms around her stomach.

"He had to be kept on a ventilator for three weeks. Nearly died."

"Stop it..."

"Lived with one family until he was five, and then he was shipped from one to the next each consecutive year until he was eighteen. He never felt at home. He never felt loved. He always waited for you--thought you'd come back."

"Goddamnit, King!" Rosa squalled, collapsing to her knees and sobbing into her paws. "Stop this! Why are you torturing me!? Why!?"

Footsteps came toward her, and a thick paw lifted her chin. She stared and wept into his hard face, kindness and sympathy glittering in his eyes. "I didn't do it to torture you. I did it for him--for the both of you. You've no idea how alone he feels, how secluded he makes himself. He's terrified of getting hurt; mortified of letting anyone close out of the fear of them leaving him...abandoning him...like you did." Rosa's shoulders bobbed from a deep sob. He knelt down with her and wrapped his sinewy arms around her slight frame. She gave and cried into his shoulder. "You took me in, Rosa; you set me straight, loved me when everyone else had all but left me to die in the streets. You gave me a chance, gave me a family, and it changed my life. I just wanted to do the same for you--for Danny. You both need one another, especially since you lost Salem and Danny's gotten more reserved."

"How do I know for sure, though?" Rosa asked. "That he's..."

He held out a paw, and in it was a handkerchief--it was stained rusty-red with blood. "We'll use this--get a DNA test taken on it."

"It's his? How did...isn't that Micah's hanky?"

He chuckled. "Yeah."

For the first time since she sprinted into the office, she smiled. "You two always did have a conniving wit."

"We learned from the best," he said warmly. "Salem was a great man."

Rosa sighed. "Danny...he's just like him." She took the hanky from his paw and held it reverently. "I know he's...*sigh*...I really don't need this, but for legalities sake I'll have the test run. I won't say anything until then."

"Good," he said.

Rosa swept back her hair and rose with him. "Did you hear him sing?"

"I've heard him sing many times. I taped him performing the song you played after all."

"Indeed," she said. "He's amazing."

"Like father like son, huh?"

She smiled as she passed a framed portrait of her husband, kissing two fingers and pressing them against his still lips. "Like father like son."