FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

The sound of bird song trilled through the windows that had been opened at the first glimpse of dawn. Their songs were strange and exotic to Mark's ears. She'd never heard anything like it and it made her lean her head back and sift through to noises for one that might be familiar. The call of a robin or the trill of a sparrow or even the lonely cry of a mourning dove. She didn't hear anything that would give her any hope of recognizing the species, but that shouldn't have been a surprise. It still was. It was another loss that went along with her humanity, her masculinity, the person she had perceived herself to be and what she was now. She flattened her ears back and stared down at her changed hands and the curled claws at the tip of each digit.

"You cannot stay here all day again, Marrck." Kitch's voice was soft and came from across the room. She frowned and jerked her head up to look at him. "Please, this is not healthy. You are well. The healers and Shaman both have agreed that your body is well. Won't you at least see my village?"

"I'm scared to." Mark winced at her soft voice and the tremor on it. She drew in a breath and steadied herself. "I don't know how to act. This goes beyond everything I've ever known."

"Then let me help you." Kitch pushed away from the wall he had been leaning on and spread his arms as if trying to make himself look harmless. "Today, let me take you a walk. I will show you the lower levels of my village. I can better answer your questions there if you allow me that."

"But.." She shifted and pulled the blanket a bit more firmly around her body. She wore it like an oversized towel to cover her nudity. "I don't have any clothes."

Kitch stopped and tucked his head down, his ears splayed. "That you had to point that out, proves at my own failing. I will bring you clothing to wear. And then you will walk with me?" He lifted his head back up with a hopeful lilt to his voice.

"I suppose..." Mark glanced towards the window and the slice of blue sky that was peppered with the edge of branches that came from the tree above. "I'm not doing anything else."

"Then I will find you clothing that will be suitable to you and then I will take you to see my village. You will be able to understand my people better that way." The male squirrel smiled and bobbed his head again before bolting out the door. He barely stirred the flap.

She'd remained within the walls of the hut for two days and refused to leave. She didn't want to see the creatures looking at her changed body. She still wasn't okay with it herself. It made her rub a hand along her arm so that she could feel the smooth fur that brushed along her fingers. Mark couldn't make peace with what she was. The Shaman had come and tried to speak with her, but he disturbed her with the way he spoke. The healers had been able to reassure her that she hadn't taken any harm. She was perfectly healthy in every way. They had peered at her and poked her, touched her tail, pulled her ears to look inside of them. She had felt violated and upset by the treatment. It helped build the resentment that smoldered in her belly.

And I only feel like this when Kitch isn't here... She licked her lips and glanced towards the door.

Kitch had remained with her. He was a firm rock against the changes that twisted her world until she couldn't even recognize it. When he was around she couldn't feel the anger building, because when she did she saw the haunted look in his eyes. Part of her wanted to blame him and rage at him. She wanted to hate and make him feel the pain she was feeling at the loss of what she was, but every time she felt that anger building, it faded away. He would say something to her or offer her a show of kindness or simply stare at his paws with a distant look in his eyes. He despaired as much as she did about the situation she was in. He hated himself for doing it to her and would have accepted her hate, even if it had broken something in him.

_I can't hurt him like that. He saved me. _ She moved her paws up and smoothed her ears back with them in a nervous gesture.

That was an inescapable fact. He had saved her. He never made a move to force her to recognize the fact he'd helped her, instead he shrugged it off as being a small thing compared to what the magic had done to her. Instead, he took his time to speak of himself. Sometimes she would ask questions, sometimes she just listened to his voice as he spoke of his own village. He hadn't been born here, he had come with a small group of young males when his own village had too many boys and not enough girls born that year. He had been raised in a group, but often wondered at what his parents had been like. The pact between their villages had ensured that he would never know them. They could be proud warriors or lowly wood cutters, he had no idea. She had felt a pang of sympathy for him as he spent last night speaking of all the things he wished he had known.

Yet, he also spoke of the freedom he felt in that he was not forced into a role that his parents were in. His life was his own to mold and shape, and that liberated him. Mark had stirred then and spoken of her own troubles breaking away from her parents. It had been hesitant t first, but then she spoke of her problems relating to others. They had ended up sharing their own difficulties and another barrier stood in the way of giving her someone to blame. He was too much a person to her. She could have hated him if he was smug or happy she was changed, she could have hated him if he'd done it purposefully, but all he'd told her of himself indicated that he was horrified. His past spoke of someone who had rigorously hated the fact that others had dictated where he would be raised and taken him from his parents.

"I've found this, it should fit you, Marrck." Kitch slipped in and held up a beaded loincloth made with enough material that it was nearly a split skirt.

"What about a top." She took the covering and glanced up to see Kitch frowning at her in puzzlement.

"A top?" He twitched his ears up. He looked confused and she blew out a soft sigh as she recalled the topless females she'd seen coming into the village.

"Can you get me some cloth and firm string, like this?" She tugged the fastenings of the loincloth. "I'll make something for myself."

"Okay.." Kitch blinked his eyes slowly, obviously not understanding, but he made no attempt to deny her. Instead he backed out and she sighed. She hoped she could figure out how to sew.

~ ~ * ~ ~

The amusement that Kitch had at her roughly made top was only compounded with the strange looks she got the moment she stepped out of the small hut. She'd nearly bolted right back into the safety of the room, but Kitch had coaxed her forward confidently. She could have bolted back if she'd pulled her arm free of him, but his face was bright with excitement at a chance to have her out of the shelter that she had been calling her home. In the end, she tucked her tail up close so that it rested against her back and followed slightly behind him as she was pulled ever further away from the safety of her retreat. And all she could do was ignore the fact that many curious eyes were peering at her from various places, both from the ground and all the way up in the trees.

"What would you like to see first?" Kitch smiled at her and gestured. "I can show you the forge, it is going right now so that we can make warming pots for the winter. I can show you where we create our art. Or I can take you to see the herbalist and healers. I can take you anywhere you wish to go."

"Why don't we just walk around?" She tried a smile towards him and then swallowed. "People are staring at me."

"You are new. We don't get new adults almost at all. The children from other villages are sent here, like I was, when the kits are born mostly male or mostly female and they must cull them." Kitch twitched his tail roughly. "That is why all of our tribes are represented here."

"Tribes? You mean fur colors?" She looked down at her own dove grey fur. In the light she could see flecks of light and dark on her pelt.

"Yes. Exactly so." Kitch smiled confidently as he led her along a path that was made up of colored stones. "I am Rurrfus. Red. My people are mostly valley dwellers and enjoy fields. You are Toron. One of the grey people. They are found many places, but the villages are located mostly in the mountains. That one.." He paused and gestured to one of the sleek dark hunters. "They are Oskit, they are found in the deepest forests. There are many of us, but there are only two villages that I know of that are cull villages."

"Cull? That's a horrible word for it." Mark bristled slightly. "It's like saying a baby isn't good enough."

Kitch shrugged slightly. "It is not judged on a kit's appearance or strength, but a toss of the bones from the Shaman. He chooses who will stay and go. And we do not suffer for it. Our village is strong because we have many different members. We have fighters and scholars and artists and gatherers. Many villages are more limited."

"So you're a cull village. Does your village have a name?" Mark glanced around and picked out some of the squirrels that were tearing along the upper trees.

"Luparaniala. The Gate of the Lupar." Kitch flashed her a grin. "It's because we stand right against the Lupar territory."

"The Lupar are the wolves." Mark stopped as Kitch pointed out a small forge that was tucked away against a stone encased tree trunk. A burly grey male was working the bellows. "I've wondered.. why didn't you shoot the wolves? You had your bow and arrow, you could have gotten rid of them easily enough from a distance."

Kitch stopped and let his hand drop from hers before fixing her with a long look. The sunlight illuminated his dark eyes so that she could see that they were really a rich deep brown color. His face drew into a frown.

"I could have, yes. Some would have. But I am not a Lupar. If I killed them, what would that serve? They would have died and rotted. I could not use their meat. I could use their hide, but that is an abomination. We don't kill for fur or leather, we let the creatures live their lives first. We aren't predators. The world is balanced delicately and we must survive upon our wits. That is our treaty with the Lupar as well as our world." Kitch ran a paw behind his ears, a nervous gesture that she had learned well. "If we cross past our lands we survive by our wits alone. They can hunt us, but they cannot use arrows either or spears. They can chase us down and kill us for food, but they can't hunt from a distance. They cannot cut down a tree to bring us to the ground. So we cannot use our arrows to kill them from a distance."

Mark was startled into a short laugh. "You have an agreement on how they can kill you? And the rules say you can't shoot them back?"

"It's an old treaty. If I broke it, if any of us broke it, they would hunt us down without mercy. The Lupar are strong in their own way and only our pacts and agreement keep us safe. As long as we abide by them and they abide by them, we live in relative peace. And we are not so helpless without a bow and arrow as you might think." Kitch licked his lips and then let out a short laugh. "In truth, we do not go there often. The younger males such as I do, but it's because we want to be tried. Their young males hunt us to impress their bitches, and we dance with danger to prove our bravery to our tribe."

"It sounds a lot like the human race." Mark murmured thoughtfully as Kitch started to walk again. "Granted, nothing hunted us, but we still did stupid things."

"And so do we." Kitch tilted his head to one side and flashed a smile. "So you were like the Lupar? You were the hunters?"

"Mostly, I guess.." Mark paused and swallowed. "We don't really hunt much anymore, most of things are farmed."

"Tell me about it?" The squirrel led her down a winding path and Mark hesitated. How much could she tell a creature as foreign as her world.

"I'd rather not.." She gave an apologetic smile. "It's just.. complicated. Where I come from, things are a big damn mess and it rarely looks like it's going to get any better. I wouldn't even know where to start there."

"Ah.." Kitch gave her a strange look. "Then I will continue to show you the lower levels and then perhaps you will try the upper levels, Marrck. You will enjoy them!"

Mark had her doubts, but she nodded anyway. It was something to distract her mind, and that needed distracted badly. There were too many thoughts in her mind and she just wanted to think of something, anything else.

Kitch proved to be quite adept at being a tour guide. The squirrel was cheerful and took her around to the various tent like huts that surrounded the base of the massive trees. She found out that they were communal buildings that housed everything from artisans to infirmaries. She was impressed with the display of knowledge and ingenuity that came with the buildings. Despite the fact they used fire, the trees were protected by a layer of rocks that were pushed against the base. It was a cunning design that allowed for them to heat the trees even in the winter. The walls were made from bark of downed trees and treated with a form of varnish to ensure that they wouldn't gather mold or rot.

The village was a strange and alien place, but the more Kitch talked, the more Mark felt herself relaxing into the ebb and flow of his words. The society wasn't a perfect one, but it worked for them. The mingling of so many different types of squirrels seemed to enhance the stance of the village and make it into something stronger. Kitch hadn't been able to talk about the other villages and how they were set up. The young male just rolled a shoulder before admitting she'd never been there. It made her curious about societies that weren't so intermingled. This one seemed almost like a paradise to her. It was surreal.

It wasn't until she thought to ask about the leaders that she found out just how strange their system was and how it differed from anything humans had created.

"So who leads here? I mean, do you have a chief or a king or what?" She tripped over the word chief and king, they came out harsh sounding and foreign.

"What?" Kitch blinked at her while he pulled her up along a narrow walk way that led towards the upper parts of the tree branches.

"A leader?" Mark ventured finally and took her hand away from his so that she could balance against the trunk of the tree. "Someone who's in charge."

"Ah!! We have four." Kitch dropped down onto a small bridge that swayed under his foot paws. "We have one for each season, because each season is different."

"Doesn't that get... confusing." She frowned and followed behind him a bit unsteadily. The bridge swayed back and forth beneath her foot paws. "I mean, they have to disagree with each other and how do you get things done?"

"They each rule during their season." Kitch leapt over to catch a thick branch and perched comfortably on it. "The Lupar only have one leader and it doesn't work well for them. We have a leader for each one of the major seasons because each season has its own hardships. The Spring, Summer, Autumn and Winter all have hardships that we must face and our leaders are prepared for it. It also allows for them to be very good at what they do. They are... experts? We call them our Sabon. Iy-Sabon is the Spring, Il-Sabon is the Summer, Pa-Sabon is the Autumn and Se-Sabon is the Winter."

Mark blinked and didn't question. Instead she let Kitch draw her up into the trees as she spoke about the leaders with a fondness that was a bit startling. Each kit that was born in the village was placed under a leader for that season. Each Sabon was able to control the people born under his or her season, but could only affect the rest of the village when it was their time of year. Then they had absolute control and what baffled Mark, was that they had never tried to strike a coup and become a king of sorts. It worked for them and it was such a strange idea that she pestered Kitch to ask about the particulars on why the seasons were so important. Her friend had grinned and drawn her to series of branches that overlapped each other a dozen feet above the ground before setting her down to explain. He seemed excited to do so.

"Because the world changes and so do situations. The Iy-Sabon, the spring leader, is in charge of planting and plowing. He knows every bit of the forest and where we can plant things that we can't gather. He is also in charge of bringing in the new greens and food that start to creep out and making sure that we are all fed well after a long winter." Kitch swung his legs back and forth. "The Summer, Il-Sabon, is in charge of gathering the food and expanding our village. She is very good at knowing how to tell if a tree is ready to be built upon and she is excellent in making sure that we set aside a share of what we gather."

"So.. the Il-Sabon is the one in charge now?" Mark hazarded and was rewarded with a large smile from Kitch as he bobbed his head.

"Yes, and then we will have the Pa-Sabon, and she knows all there is to know about the fall. She knows the hollows and places where we can store food. She knows how to dig far and deep at the base of the trees so that we can huddle there on the coldest storms. She also knows how to tell when it is time for the frost and when to gather our harvest." Kitch gave a larger grin. "I follow Se-Sabon, the winter... Do you know what we do?"

"Keep everyone warm? Start fires?" Mark guessed as she lowered herself to sit next to Kitch. She was surprised to find her tail shifting against her back as it balanced her.

"Oh yes, we do that too, but we are story tellers! In the winter we gather wood and keep the fires going bright. We find food when there is none or when the winter has lasted too long and exhausted our supplies. But most of all we tell stories. The world is so dark and cold. The young ones forget that there ever as a summer or fall, so we remind them with stories. We gather at every fire so that we can give them heart." The male tucked his head as if embarrassed. "I'm still learning, but one day I'll be quite good. Or so I'm told.."

"You're doing alright taking me around." Mark leaned back a little and glanced out over the intermingled branches.

"Do.. do you like it here, Marrck?" Kitch's voice was wistful and Mark gave him a long look.

She didn't know how to answer that. She felt strangely humiliated to be in the body of a female and she wasn't even human. Those two emotions rolled beneath the surface of any good she might feel at being in this world. She couldn't go home, she couldn't live a normal life, she couldn't even be around the technology that she had always enjoyed. With a sigh she drew up one knee and rested her chin on it so she could rub against the fur.

"I don't know, Kitch. I don't belong here." She gave him a look and found the red squirrel staring out at a few bounding youngsters before they stopped and gaped at her.

Mark frowned slightly and tried to stop the rush of heat from rising to her cheeks. She couldn't stop herself from blushing as the young squirrels chattered to each other and she saw a few gesturing at their chests. Was it so odd that she wished to be covered? It just added to the strangeness of the world she found herself in and she hugged her knee a bit more forcefully as she tried to follow the people that darted about back and forth. People. They were people. She couldn't forget that fact despite the fact they looked like they belonged in a park somewhere in the city chattering at people for treats. She only had to see their expressions to realize that they were thinking and clever creatures. Kitch was proof of that.

"You could belong here, Marrck." Kitch turned his head and looked at her. "You don't have to go anywhere else."

"I had a job, a home, I had... well not family, but I had a life where I was." Mark tried not to hug her knee tight enough to dig her claws into the skin beneath her fur. "I had a place that I belonged and that I did important work. I can't do that here, there's nothing close to technology here." She stumbled over the word technology as her lips twisted it into English.

"You have a home here. I know that they look at you as new and strange, but in time you could make this your home." Kitch leaned down and picked a bit at the bark of the tree. "I know we don't have what you are used to, I don't know what that is. But you could learn here. You could have a job again if you wished it, I would see you trained in whatever you wished. I want to.. make things right with you. I just don't know how."

The last words sounded slightly lost and Mark lifted her head to give a slight smile. "You're helping, Kitch. It's just going to be an adjustment. I look down at my hands and I don't see my hands, I see someone else's paws. I look at myself and I don't see me anymore."

"I don't." Kitch glanced away to look at an aged female who was making his slow way up a tree across from them. "I see you. You aren't different, not really. You're still the one that pulled me from the river. You're still the one with a heart large enough not to hate me for what has happened. Maybe you have changed from what you were, but that doesn't mean you have changed what you are at the core."

"Changed? CHANGED?!" A female voice came from barely a foot behind Mark and so loud that she let out a yelping cry.

She twisted her body and caught herself before falling from the tree at the shock of hearing someone yell behind her. She scrambled and awkwardly moved her tail around to try and keep herself from losing her grip and falling down. Kitch offered a paw and pulled her back onto the branch to face a joyful faced red squirrel that stood on all fours with her lips pulled back in a buck toothed smile. A dark blue trail of paint ran from behind her ears all the way to the end of her nose, while softer white colors curled in wild designs along her ears. She was big, no, not big as in fat, but muscular and sleek as a newly minted penny. Her eyes were just as dark as Kitch's and they twinkled as if she were trying not to laugh at him.

"I am sorry, m'girl, I saw you perched up here and wanted to give you a look over. I heard the conversation and had to butt in." The female grinned. "I am Hatcha. Il-Sabon."

"M-mark.." She gasped out as she flopped back against Kitch and Hatcha stood up to dust her cream colored belly off. "That's alright, I guess."

"You're in my season." The female sat down beside them and peered over Mark's head. "Kitch here should have been in mine. The lad has a good sense of where the best gather spots are, but he had the bad taste to be born in winter."

"And you would be upset and pleading to my Sabon to take me back once you heard me mumbling stories under my breath, Il-Sabon." Kitch replied easily and gave Mark's shoulder a squeeze. "You were.. born in summer. Born to us in summer. Hatcha will be your Sabon, so eventually you might learn duties from her if you stay here. She will teach you everything she knows until you are able to help lead the rest of us when summer comes."

"If?" The genial Hatcha tilted her head to regard Mark. It made her want to squirm under the intense regard. "I heard you speaking. You've changed, but that is the way of things, m'girl. That's what we believe in. The world changes, seasons change, day changes to night, change all around. Why are you so worried that your outside has changed?"

"I.." Mark swallowed and tried to sort her thoughts out. "I don't know if this is who I really am. I'm Mark Munis. I'm not a squirrel. I'm not a girl. I'm a boy and a human."

"Ah." Hatcha nodded her head and Mark felt Kitch go very still beside her. "I see. Then you must stop being Marrck Munis. That is what you were, and you have spent days trying to stuff yourself back into that person. But, that won't fit. Why not try a new skin on and see if you can still be what you thought you were in this one."

"Because.. I don't know how." Mark licked her lips. "This is newer to me then you can imagine. Everything that I knew doesn't make sense here. Nothing is the same.."

Hatcha let out a soft laugh and pushed herself back up onto all fours. The large red female towered over him as she tilted her head to one side. The Shaman had never said more than a few words, the healers were quiet, Kitch was.. Kitch. This female had a personality that shown through her and made Mark feel inadequate.

"Everything is knew to a kit freshly born, but I think that you won't believe me just saying that." Hatcha lifted a paw and cupped Mark's chin lightly. "But it is true, you are freshly born to us. So, I will celebrate you coming to join my sabon. Come, your fellows are gathering and we will enjoy good sweet summer wine and fresh food while you figure out where you fit."

"A celebration? I wanted to go back to the room.." Mark tried to protest, but Kitch was helping her up. She glanced back to see her friend grinning slightly.

"Il-Sabon Hatcha has a reputation for enjoying a good festival, and you've given her a reason. I promise, you'll enjoy it." Kitch glanced over towards the grinning female. "May I come?"

"Of course. Come along, Marrck, it's time I introduce you to yourself!" Hatcha flashed him a grin and she turned with a graceful twist to bound along the tree branch. Her laughter spilled behind her leaving Mark feeling slightly overwhelmed.

"What sort of feast do they have?" She glanced to Kitch. "I've never really enjoyed parties and I'm not always comfortable in social situations."

"Hatcha's parties are legendary. Come on, we don't want to miss it." Kitch wrapped his paw firmly around Mark's own. "You've never heard our music. I'd very much like you to hear it."

Her friend grinned hugely, the excitement dancing on his face as he turned towards the tree that Hatcha had bolted up. Mark wanted to hang back and go back to the room that she trusted to keep her safe, but Kitch's smile was bright. The lines of stress that had been present along his brow had smoothed away as the red male led her to the trunk of the tree. Her ability to say no seemed to fade away at the relaxed and eager expression on Kitch's face. She wanted him to be happy, as much as she hated what she was becoming, she still trusted him. And how bad could a party with squirrels be? At the very worst, it would be an awkward party and she wouldn't have to try it again.

"Come along, both of you!" Hatcha cried out from above them. "The sun's going to set and we shall have contests to see how Marrck fairs with others of his sabon in the leaping games!"

_Leaping? Like jumping? Okay, so maybe it can be bad. _ Mark winced, but followed in Kitch's wake as the male darted up the tree.