FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

1

Night brought relief - both from the heat and from the anxiety of the prior day's discovery. But, with dawn fast approaching, the gryphon ducked out his lair and picked his way down to the forest floor. With a throaty rumble, he stretched, working the kinks out of his back. And with unfurled wings, he shook off from head to tail.

A strange scent filtered into his nares as he stepped down from his lair and moved into the woods - woodsmoke and some strange odor he couldn't identify. Alarm hadn't set in, but he scanned the surrounding trees for the source of the smells. He didn't like new.

There was a stillness in the woods that was only offset by the dull chorus of birdsong and buzzing insects. Not a breeze stirred the canopy, and a look up didn't spot a single wisp of cloud. There would be no relief from the heat today.

His steps slowed as the stream came into view, ears swiveling along his head as he scanned his surroundings. The creek bed was drier this morning, with puddles collecting in the deeper furrows along the ground. There was enough water to quench his thirst, but he would have to find another spot soon unless it rained.

He followed the creek bed to a clearing where trees had fallen many seasons ago. New trees sprouted around the decaying trunks, promising to replace those that had fallen - though it would be many years more before they reached the heights that the fallen trees had reached. And on the far side, deer grazed on the dew covered mosses. A few young bucks milled around with the does, offspring from the prior season.

With the utmost care he stalked around the clearing, hopping onto another half-rotten log to get a better look at the small herd. The gryphon leaned over the edge of the log and made ready to leap down when something caught his eyes. A small form stepped around a tree a few yards away, arm holding a curved wooden bow with a single arrow slotted in place.

He froze - talons gripping the trunk to keep himself steady. The bowstring snapped. And the only warning the herd had was the soft whistle from the feathers lining the arrow shaft. Within a moment a deer tumbled over, arrow jutting out just behind the shoulder. It flailed its legs as the death-throes kicked in while the rest of the herd fled into the woods. There was an audible, but hushed exclamation from the strange creature nearby as they rushed into the clearing toward their quarry.

Scrambling backward, the gryphon lowered his ears and watched the scene warily. Two more hunters joined the first. The gryphon watched, tail flitting nervously. They were the source of the strange scene he smelled. He didn't like it.

He turned and stalked back into the cover of the woods, leaving the glade behind. Hunting would have to take place in another part of the woods.

Dead in the middle of summer, there was little else for the gryphon to eat besides deer. They were unphased by the drought, though pickings were slimmer. Many of the fruiting bushes had already shed their first ripe berries, and it was still too soon before more would ripen enough for them to eat. They were his main prey, though rodents worked in a pinch.

The gryphon moved swiftly, but quietly through the trees until he came upon the softer loam of older forest floors. The entrances to various rat burrows appeared beneath old knotted roots from trees long since departed. Small sprouts from young trees littered the floor here, finally able to grow. There were more ferns and broad-leafed plants here than elsewhere, competition for light creating a different kind of battleground between the vegetation. It also made it the ideal environment for the gryphon's favorite snack.

The softer soil was dotted with the entrances to underground burrows. He climbed atop a log to watch the forest floor, ears at full attention for the quiet sounds of scurrying paws and gnawing teeth. It wasn't long before rats scurried home. Burrow after burrow, the gryphon plucked up what rodents he could catch in his talons, gulping them down. They weren't terribly filling, but would make do.

His return to his den brought the anxiety back, the smell of woodsmoke had grown and there was a heavier smoky haze drifting through the woods. The gryphon stuck to the higher and thicker branches to make sure he could see as much of the forest floor as possible. He didn't know where they were, but the smell of blood from the morning's kill was moving in with the smoke. His stomach rumbled.

He was far too wary of them to be lured in by it. The gryphon hopped from the branch to a rock below and froze. Ahead, he saw one of the hunters eying the path up to his den. His hackles roused as he lowered and stalked toward them. The sound of another one further ahead made him back off. He turned and slipped away, putting space between them before he climbed up into the bough of a tree.

He watched the forest floor, eyes scanning for the location of the second hunter. The first turned to look around, pulling their hood away. The hunter had long dark hair pulled up tight against the back of their head. When they spoke up, it was with a lighter lilt than the other one walking down from his lair. It was a close call.

As they returned to their campsite, the gryphon watched closely. But once they disappeared through the trees, the gryphon hopped to the forest floor again. He glanced around to make sure he wasn't in danger and then crawled up to the lip of his lair before crawling inside to check the damage.

In his lair, he spotted signs that one of them had been inside his den. And the smell of the hunter was all over the interior. The gryphon rubbed himself against everything that bore the hunter's scent. Even the hollow where he lay in had a boot print. He snorted and turned to face the entrance, looking out into the forest beyond. His home - his forest - was compromised.