FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Escaping the Storm: Part 2

"Please, Please." The trembling, brown-furred ferret shuffled back, hazel eyes wide with fear as he slipped deeper into the narrow space. "I... some Velikan speak. I--"

"It's okay, I speak Polcian," Erik stated gently, knowing better than to try and approach him. "I saw you today, working here in the supermarket. Don't panic, please."

The little Polcian maintained a retreat right up until his foot connected with a stray pebble. He let out a shrill cry, tumbling with a considerable thump for someone his size to the soggy surface below.

"That looked to be quite the fall." Erik lowered himself to a crouch, but kept the distance between them. "Are you okay?"

"I..." The brown ferret sat upright, his clenched eyes turning the mask of fur around them into solid black. "...I think so."

"My name's Erik." He smiled wide, making a conscious effort not to expose his teeth in the process. "It's nice to meet you."

"It's... nice to meet you too." Calmness began to find a home in the Polcian's words, though his unsettled expression remained. "My name's Pieter." He grimaced sharply, sucking in air between set teeth.

"Are you sure you're okay?"

"I am..." Pieter rubbed the back of his skull, fur bristling in the cold wind. "The fall... I suppose was quite hard, actually."

Erik took a knee, unable to help noticing the minor differences in his accent compared with the small number of Polcians he'd met in the past. Unusually, Pieter rolled his r's much like a Velikan would, but also spoke in a way to make 'the' sound like 'de' and 'hard' closer to 'hart'.

"Here." Finally, Erik worked up the confidence to reach a tentative paw into the passage. "Let me help you."

"I... I said I'm fine."

"Perhaps... but still." He extended his index finger, holding it there invitingly. "I only wish to help you up."

Pieter looked to Erik's fingertip, then up to his face and back again. With a sigh of resignation, he reached out to wrap his paw around it, allowing himself to be tugged up onto his feet.

"There. That was not so bad, was it?"

He didn't react, other than to brush the dirt from his damp trousers. "-Dit is te gek.-"

Erik's brow furrowed at those unfamiliar, unintelligible words. "What was that?"

"Oh..." Pieter clasped a collar half-hidden beneath the fur of his neck. "I forget how good Normalisers are at helping our voices to be heard."

"I have never heard such a language before. Where are you from?"

"Polcia."

"I guessed this," Erik snickered, grinning wide enough to show his fangs. "Which country?"

"Right." Pieter smirked, apparently comfortable enough to be undisturbed by the displaying of teeth. "I'm from Meerland. What you heard was Meerlander; a language also spoken in my country."

"That's cool!" Spotting Pieter's fading agitation, he seized the chance to maintain this line of conversation. "I met a Polcian from Linvendia last year, when he came to visit a friend of mine."

"You did?"

"Yeah!" Erik rocked enthusiastically on his feet, catching his knee on the side of the plastic waste bin in the process. The resulting thump echoed through the alley, loud enough to force the tiny ferret into a cowered recoil. "Sorry!" he blurted, holding out his palms in front of him. "Didn't mean to startle."

"That's... okay." Pieter stopped after few backward strides. "It was just kinda... very loud." Slowly, he began to close the distance he'd just put between them. "But... Linvendia you say?"

"Yes. His accent was a little different, which is why I asked."

"This makes sense." He regained his smile, coming to a halt a shade closer to Erik than before his retreat. "Weidekerk, my hometown, is very close to the border we share."

Even with the enjoyment he'd gained from gradually winning this little Polcian's confidence, the wicked winter wind soon reminded Erik of their surroundings. The damp concrete had soaked through the knee of his jeans, derailing the conversation and forcing him to shift to readjust. He glanced back down to Pieter, noticing him visibly shaking in the cold. "What in the world are you doing out here anyway?"

"I..."

Erik waited for an answer that never came, growing concerned over what he'd stumbled upon. "It's February and it's freezing cold." Still, the only reaction to come was more silent shivering. "Don't you have a home to go to? In the Polcian district?"

"No... Not any more."

"No? What do you mean?"

"I mean I lost my job, so we lost our home there!" Pieter snarled, one that quickly petered out into a nervous whimper.

Erik remained undeterred. If anything, the emotion simply pushed his interest higher. "I... saw you working today? It _was_you stacking the shelving in the Polcian section, right?"

"Yes... I suppose that was me." The weary ferret rubbed his brow, grumbling loud enough to be heard. "But, I am not talking about this job. I'm talking about the job I did before, back in the district. The job that allowed me and my family to live there, allowed us to live where things are designed for people our size."

"What did you do?" That choice of words appeared to annoy him only further. "I mean... What was your job? How did you come to be working here, in the main city?"

Pieter looked away with folded arms; his obvious distaste for Erik's questioning seemingly outweighing any anxiety over their proximity to one another.

"Listen, I don't wish to push, and I can leave if you ask, but..." Both the wetness below and the guardedness greeting him finally forced Erik back onto his feet; a move that pushed the little Polcian into a sudden step back. "I was only concerned... for you and for your family, from what you say."

Another few seconds of silence passed, leading only to Erik losing the rest of his patience. "Fine... Suit yourself." He twisted on his heels, starting away from the darkness and towards the bright city lights.

"Wait."

Erik glanced back over his shoulder, spotting Pieter slowly emerge from his hideaway.

"Please, wait."

Those meek cries were almost lost to the whistling winds, but carried just enough to beckon him into stopping halfway to the busy street.

Pieter lingered there, another gust ruffling his matted fur as he peered down to the ground like a freshly-scolded child. Whatever problems he wanted to remain hidden, they clearly weighed heavily upon his small shoulders. "Please understand that... I don't feel comfortable discussing myself with a Vel-- a stranger."

"As I said..." Erik started back towards him. "I only wish to help if I can. To be alone, in the Velikan area of the city, this can't be good for you. It isn't safe." He stopped a few paces from the little ferret, giving him space to conclude a visibly tough bout of thinking. "Just why are you here?"

In the end, Pieter glanced up, slowly rubbing the side of his brown-furred face. "Come. Follow me."

Erik watched him shuffle out from behind the waste bin, pumping his legs at a half-jog on his way even further into the damp alley. "Would... you like me to help? Carry you maybe?"

"No," Pieter spat, right before gazing up almost apologetically. "Thank you, but... I prefer to walk."

Erik silently accepted, not wishing to disrespect that wish even if he couldn't fully comprehend it. Instead, he shuffled slowly behind the ankle-high ferret, taking care of his steps as they meandered past the puddles and old, rusted trolleys littering their path.

"What were you doing outside the Velikan staff entrance anyway? It's late. There's nothing there for you."

"I was looking for something warm."

"Something warm? What do you mean?"

Pieter didn't confirm, though Erik wouldn't have to wait long to understand what he'd meant by that.

They arrived at the opposite end of the alley roughly a minute later, the obstacle-strewn passage giving way to a small concrete clearing. Erik looked to the wall, finding the Polcian-sized staff entrance at its base. A protective, automated walkway led off from the doorway, fastened to the brickwork a short distance from the ground. This path, along with hundreds of others like it, formed a network that allowed those of a reduced stature free movement around the city centre.

"Pieter, what are we doing here? I..." Erik drifted off, realising he'd lost sight of his guide. He searched through the dark for him, scanning a nearby collection of broken stock carts, damp shipping pallets and discarded boxes. "Where have you gone?"

"Here."

Erik turned towards the call's origin; a shallow alcove in the supermarket's rear wall, illuminated by a dim light fitted to its ceiling. "Where is 'here'?" He padded over to investigate, slipping carefully past heaps of wood and metal in the process.

"Down here!" Pieter cried, emerging from beneath one of the cart's bases. Only then did Erik notice something that stood out from among the usual refuse.

"What is this?" A small structure sat hidden away in the storage alcove, nestled in the corner where the ground remained dryest.

"This... is my home, and has been for the last couple of weeks."

Erik came to a stop in the narrow space afforded undercover. "Really? Here... in this?" He shuffled closer to both Pieter and his construction. His 'home' proved to be little more than an old cardboard box. Thin strands of rust-riddled, corrugated iron rested atop it, serving as makeshift roofing. Erik looked back to him, soon noticing his downcast demeanour. "Sorry... I don't wish to be rude."

"No problem." Pieter merely shrugged, strolling over to a tiny opening in the side of his shelter. A slim shard of wood served as a makeshift door, leaving Erik unable to examine conditions inside. "It's not as if I live here by choice."

"So... why do you?"

Pieter sat down upon a castor wheel discarded nearby, likely broken from one of old stock trolleys surrounding them. "You see, I used to work in the Polcian district... until my company closed its facility here and I lost my job."

"I... am sorry to hear." Erik lowered himself to a crouch, placing his backpack on the ground beside him. "I know the feeling."

"Oh, do you!?"

He shirked back guiltily from the force in that response. "In a sense... yes. I also lost my job, last year... I don't know how... this feels."

Pieter took another glance at his modest shelter, sighing deeply.

"Why did your company close?"

"Cost cutting... This was the official reason at least, but I think it was more related to what's been happening lately. The rise in protests by Velikans against us Polcians. The tensions."

Erik's head dipped, guilt rising only higher. "How so?"

"My company was involved in logistics, transport. Along with our Velikan partners, we took responsibility for the movement of Polcian goods made here from factory to port. Because of this, it made our vehicles a good target for protests... an attack even." Pieter looked up again, seemingly able to read Erik's sorry expression. "Yes, an attack. No one was hurt, thankfully, but... when a person the size of a half-dozen-floor Polcian building wants to damage one of our freight units, they can do quite the job."

"I think I heard about that last year... They managed to sneak past station security and attack a train running to the Polcian district."

"Right... So, when things like that happen... I suppose it makes sense that our company would look to reduce Velikan operations. Focus more on those back home and elsewhere."

Erik fidgeted to get comfortable, the story being relayed to him making that an increasing difficult task. "You couldn't return home also?"

"I have... I had only limited savings, so that wasn't an option. Also, I had only been working there for a few months, so I received no redundancy payment." Pieter scrambled up to his feet, starting to pace around with the same frustration entering his words. "I couldn't find another job in the district, no matter how hard I tried! In the end I had to come to the main city... settle for a job stacking shelves here!" He snarled that last word, clearly no happier to find employment at the supermarket than the leopard gazing from above. "Return to Meerland? I couldn't even afford to pay the bills and keep my family in a home here in Velika."

Erik scratched under his jacket at the black-spotted, white fur of his forearm, no longer brave enough to make eye contact. "What will you do now?"

"Now?" Pieter stopped his aimless wandering. "Save up for that journey, and someday get home to where things won't be so tough what with the size difference. Plus, there is a welfare system in place there, unlike for Polcians that come here. Here, if you have a job, if you can help the Velikan economy, great, welcome. If not, and you lose your home, well sorry, that's just tough luck!"

"Really!? That's how it is for you here?"

He nodded forcefully. "These are the things you're not told before you leave Polcia. All you hear is how the pay is so much better here, in the districts... but lose out on that and you're... -genaaid!-"

Erik's eyes widened, both at Pieter's revelation and the confusing, accented outburst he'd concluded with. "Hen... Henied?"

"It's nothing pleasant."

He watched the distraught ferret wander back to the tatty cardboard box that comprised his home. "I'm sorry you have to go through this. I had no idea there were Polcians living here suffering the way you are."

Pieter huffed loudly, forcing an awkward smile. "It's not as bad as it might look... I suppose."

Erik said nothing, not knowing how that could possibly be true.

"It's amazing what gets thrown out from places like this. There's plenty of cloth for warm bedding. Packaged food and drinks are just tossed out when they approach the expiration date. The things we do need to buy like clothing, batteries for lighting, is real cheap. Also, it's open twenty-four hours, so we can sneak in to use the shower room late in the evening." Pieter gestured away from the alcove with his head, towards the Polcian-sized staff entrance around the corner. "What's more, we're right next to the automated walkway. It's easy to get around from here, get our children to their school back in the district."

Erik fought to keep the shock from his face, but Pieter's sheer positivity in the face of such hardship overpowered him. His brow furrowed and his muzzle contorted with a hesitant smile. It felt as if only he could see the dank, scruffy box in the corner for what it truly was. "Still... it's February. You're exposed out here, sleeping in a cold, wet alleyway."

Pieter shifted awkwardly on his feet. "I know... it's not ideal, but--"

"What if a Velikan worker comes to clean up what they think is trash?" Erik's voice reverberated off the brickwork, emboldened by such an unpleasant notion. "They could dispose of this home... of you."

"It's not as if we have a choice to be here or not! Besides, it has been... two, three weeks? No-one has come to clean _anything_here."

That he could believe, given the sheer age of the dirt and debris surrounding them. "What about a co-worker? Another Polcian? Is there no-one who could offer you help?"

"I spoke to couple of people, but that isn't something I feel comfortable asking just anyone."

"What do you mean?"

"I've only worked here for a short time, remember? How would you take it if a person you met only a few weeks ago asked you for money, or for a place to stay?" Pieter paused only briefly in his rhetorical questioning. "You'd feel uncomfortable. It's... not an acceptable thing to do, is it?"

As much as he hated it, Erik saw the logic in that. "So, nobody has offered you help? Not at all?"

"They haven't. After all, living in the districts isn't exactly what a person would consider affordable without a job to match. I suspect the people working here at the supermarket have enough problems supporting themselves, let alone my family, also."

A faint scraping sound caught Erik's ear, derailing his train of thought. Shuffling followed, right before the tiny panel of wood propped up against Pieter's shelter shifted a short distance. He watched on intently, leaning to study the side of the box as its opening became exposed. With obvious hesitation, a second ferret crept from cover, stepping a mere Polcian step or two into the open. Just like Pieter, she appeared far more dignified amid the gloom than Erik might have expected of someone sleeping rough; her clothes and brown fur appearing for the most part clean and presentable. She craned her neck slowly, blue eyes narrowing between a slim, black-furred mask in response to the alcove's lighting. "Pieter, what is...?" The nervousness etched across her face, along with her timid squeaking, said more than words could. "-...Wat is er aan de hand?-"

To top it of, the re-emergence of their strange, foreign tongue left Erik feeling even more unwelcome here.

"-Waarom is een Velikaanse hier!?-"

Pieter glanced over to her quickly, seeming just as stunned by her presence. "-Karin? Wat...-" He returned his focus upwards, jaw hanging for a second. "Erik... this is my wife, Karin."

"Hello--" Erik barely got a word out before the dull scraping started again. A third, teenaged ferret appeared at the opening to take a long look up at him. She wore a grey shirt, along with a red dress and frayed, black leggings that exposed the fur of her shins. Judging by her parents' clothing, Erik suspected the wear came intentionally rather than from their living conditions. Topped off with a long streak of head fur dyed to match the black of her mask, he struggled to know what to make of it all.

"A-And this is my daughter, Anika." Pieter forced a smile through his increasingly apparent unease.

"How many more of you are there?"

"...Just my son... He's inside, napping."

Erik offered Anika a short wave, but found himself fixed with that same steely, unreadable glare. The decision to concentrate his attention on the Polcian most receptive to him so far came not long after. "Please excuse me when I say that... while you all look to be surviving surprisingly well here..."

Pieter silently shifted his head, perking an ear up at Erik in anticipation.

"Surely, you cannot stay here, huddled up in a box in a back alley with your wife and children?"

"It--"

"No matter how it is presented, you need help, and I'm thinking that it's for this reason I am here at your... home."

Pieter slowly wrung his paws, half-peering over his shoulder to his wife and daughter. "I have to say... this much is true. I brought you back here hoping that you might help me." His admission drew from Erik a relaxed smile; one that vanished rapidly once he continued. "Perhaps you could help me to find more metal sheeting?"

"What?" Erik scoffed, giving a stunned shake of the head.

"No. See. It would help keep the rain out," Pieter retorted hurriedly. "It's hard to find pieces small enough for me to carry and push up onto the box's top... Sorry, I suppose this was forward of me to ask--"

"No, no!" Erik threw up his paws, shaking his head again but with a grin this time. "I'm saying this because if I were to help you... I would do so by taking you somewhere else."

"Like where?"

He sucked in a deep breath, exhaling before confirming his plan. "Like home with me. To stay there until you're back on your feet, and not having to live and to sleep like this."

The alcove fell quiet, save for the blustering wind and the rumble of traffic from beyond the alley. Tension rose by the second, right up until Erik began to wish he'd kept the suggestion to himself. He watched on in perfect silence at Pieter and Karin conversing discreetly in their native dialect. Their daughter, Anika, meanwhile waited by the opening, her icy glare still locked upon him.

Erik offered as bright a smile as he could muster in return, being sure to keep from exposing his teeth. He hoped this gesture, this extending of an olive branch, might earn relief from that increasingly unsettling expression. It didn't do the trick. In fact, all it achieved was to bring Anika away from the shelter and over to join her parents' private discussion.

Desperate to resolve the standoff, Erik rose to his full height. He took a small step forwards, instantly ending their conversation as he made footfall. "Please, I can understand that you may feel nervous, but you said that a Polcian working here would not be able to help you. You now have an offer from a Velikan that can."

Pieter shared a look between himself and his wife, turning in tandem to study their cardboard home soon after.

"As much as it might sound like some strange, sudden offer, I wouldn't be able to go home happy if I knew you would be sleeping here tonight. You can trust me."

After yet another long spell of silence, Erik considered defying his urge to assist, to slip away and leave them here where they appeared inexplicably settled. "Okay, I will go--"

"Alright." Pieter spun suddenly to face him. "If you are certain... we would like to accept your offer."

"You would? Great!" He couldn't stop himself grinning, crouching again to move closer to the ferret family's level. "While this home here may be... nice, I'm hoping you will find mine to be a little more comfortable."

They didn't respond straight off, with only Pieter allowing the crack of a smile to form. Erik meanwhile grabbed his backpack from the ground, standing it upright. Only at the last second did he realise the potential for upset in his next statement. "If you don't mind... I think the best, easiest way for me to carry you... is for you to ride in the pouch of my bag."

Pieter reacted with wide eyes and an investigative glance at his wife and daughter. They in turn fired him a look that contained no shortage of anxiety.

"No, don't worry. See?" With thumb and finger, Erik unzipped the thin section at the pack's front, revealing a compartment more than large enough to stow each of the paw-sized ferrets. "I won't have to close it up again completely either, so there will be plenty of light and air."

"I see." Pieter's sharp sigh all but confirmed his apprehension, though his brightening expression suggested it didn't come without gratitude. "Let's give it a shot."

"Let's!" Erik shifted his backpack, spreading the open pouch further so that its would-be passengers could simply walk inside. "Here, just climb in and settle down--" He looked up to find the three of them padding not towards him, but off to their ramshackle shelter instead.

"Give us a moment. We need to gather our belongings, along with some things that will help us to be less of a burden."

"Burden?" Erik chuckled lightly. "You won't be."

They continued on regardless, disappearing inside the cardboard home to leave their would-be host alone outside. After a good five minutes of waiting, and three positive replies to questions about their well-being, Pieter re-emerged with his family. Each of them held two small plastic bags in paw, with Pieter himself also carrying what appeared to be a tattered bundle of bedding.

"You don't need that," Erik started, scratching at his temple. "There are clean sheets and such at my home."

"Thank you," came the snapped reply, "but this will also give us protection inside your bag."

He felt a fast, dull pang of hurt at that idea, wondering to what degree it'd spawned from a sense of mistrust.

Keeping that sentiment to himself, he watched with hushed anticipation over the family cautiously loading their belongings into his bag. Karin, Pieter's wife, managed a hesitant, short-lived smile as she slipped inside. Her daughter, Anika, on the other hand could only offer Erik another stabbing, wary glare that set his ears dipping.

He continued to observe and wait patiently, going against his sense of decorum by leaving them to arrange the bedding without assistance. As he did so, Erik spied a rapid flicker of brown in his periphery. He looked up, scanning the area from where the movement came. At the exposed opening of the now abandoned former home, a small paw clung to its edge. Just above, barely visible through the shadows, another tiny, black-masked face peered outwards.

"Is that your son?" Erik asked quietly, prompting Pieter to divert his attention back towards the shelter.

"It is." He motioned to his wife and daughter to wait inside their pouch, padding hurriedly over to his youngest child.

"You don't need to be afraid," Erik called, cheerfully waving a paw. "You're all coming to stay with me, where it'll be warmer, safer."

The boy didn't budge, even as Pieter no doubt tried to offer the same reassurance with soft, whispered words.

"Come on, I have a space in here saved just for you." That only served to push the youngster even deeper into the darkness. Erik's heart sank, as did his shoulders.

He watched Pieter hurriedly follow his son out of sight, leaving him outside with the rest of the family. Peering downwards, he hoped to gauge the mood of mother and daughter further. They both stared back, settled with their belongings among the cushioning. Neither appeared particularly happy to be there, though they didn't seem to be approaching distress either. Erik accepted that as a positive, even if it unnerved him out of an attempt to talk to them.

For a moment, he pondered just why he'd decided to do this; to take this family away when more than a few signs pointed at their reluctance to do so.

'They might not survive out here. Sure, they look okay now... but all it takes is one anti-Polcian finding them...'

That thought, unsettling as it was, renewed his spirit. There was simply no two ways about it; he had to get this family home to safety.

Erik returned his focus to the shelter, finding Pieter strolling across the concrete with son in arms. He maintained the silence, not wishing to disturb the smallest of his soon-to-be guests any further.

"Don't be scared," Pieter cooed gently. "We can trust this Velikan."

Another wave of sadness crested, leaving Erik's muzzle to sink only further. The idea that mistrust, fear even, came as the default setting towards him cut deeply.

'It's understandable, really, what with everything that's happening lately. Anyway, it's not as if I'm completely innocent, is it?'

He shook his head with vigour, clearing it of distraction before glancing back down to his backpack. All four ferrets sat in wait amid soft heaps of white fabric, looking around as if searching for something to do with themselves.

"Okay, get ready." He reached for the zipper, preparing to pull it closed with as delicate a touch as he could. "I'll keep things as smooth as possible."

Pieter returned a nod, holding his family close as they all disappeared from view. Erik honoured his promise, leaving a small section of the pouch open to allow light and air to enter and circulate.

"Let's get you home." He stood upright, lifting his backpack as if it carried something priceless. Of course, in many ways, it did. "I promise, you will not regret this."