FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

There is a space between waking and sleeping where dreams become vivid and surreal. They cross the barriers of the mind until it is fooled into smelling the strange dream world, feeling it beneath the fingers and hearing the sounds of voices that came across canyons. Mark had never really dreamed that strongly nor remembered the dreams afterwards. They were things made of cobwebs that blew apart the moment he turned his focus on them, except, the dreams that met him in the darkness weren't shades and apparitions. They flung away his former beliefs on how dreams appeared in his mind and cast away any safety nets that came with the realization that one was sleeping. He tumbled in a vivid darkness that threw him into memories without any idea as to what was happening.

He didn't relive his memories, in the dreams he watched from outside of them. He was forced to see his choices as if he was living in the midst of a movie, but they weren't entirely accurate. He saw himself sitting in school, alone and sitting in the corner of the room with the rest of the class forming up into groups. He could see himself looking around in confusion and embarrassment as no group returned his gaze. He recalled that day and his own bitter realization that he was ostracized by his peers because of his age, intelligence and lack of social skills. It was a bitter memory. The dream didn't concentrate on his emotions but swam through to focus on parts of the class room.

The world stopped and started a dozen times almost as if someone were riffling through his memories and pulling out the parts that confused them. He could almost feel phantom fingers sifting through his mind as he was forced to relive countless days in his life. The dream world didn't give him an offer of waking up. No matter how many times he tried to surge towards consciousness, he was dragged back down. He relived his entire life, but he had no way of knowing how long this strange event had been going on. He wasn't in control. He was only a passenger in the midst of the strange world. They sifted through his mind and tumbled out his knowledge of how he had gotten there, where he had come from, where he wished to go.

The world continued to roll around those thoughts as if trying to find a hole in his memories. He cried out and struggled when he was dragged back to the last moments he had experienced in his own world. He tried to haul himself away from it, but he was pulled back. Over and over it replayed, and each time the visuals sharpened as he was focused on the devices he used, his coworkers, the men in their military gear. He was left gasping, panting, trembling as they pulled him through the memory of being hauled through the field, and the horrible pressure and pain that he had encountered there. His mind had protected him from that memory. It had kept him safe from the fire that had torn through his veins as he was unmade and remade once more.

As the fiery pain rolled over him he heard the beat of a drum hammering in time with his heart. The darkness swelled around him, but he still remained huddled in his own dream, crying out under the pain. The drum hammered faster and faster as he stared into the pitch black, only to see large forms writhing and dragging themselves free of the velvety darkness. They glimmered and glowed like moon fire as they resolved into strange beasts that had never walked the natural world. There were great birds with massive toothed beaks that spread fiery wings open wide so they could launch into the air. Things like reptiles, but no snake or lizard had ever roamed the earth with fringes of hair and great bat like wings. Small furred beasts frolicked and danced through the dark like sparks of stars in the black. They were everywhere as they tore themselves free. All he felt was terror.

"Taste him... take him..." A voice rolled through the darkness and the strange beasts turned their midnight eyes towards him. "Let us see what lies beneath the surface... Let us see what you are..."

Mark couldn't move, couldn't breathe. He was aware of his body, but it refused to answer him no matter how desperate he became. The glittering animals leapt towards him with liquid grace that left trails of light in the darkness. They were cheerful looking with ears held up and their mouths parted in almost smiles. As they came closer, he knew that they wouldn't remain that benign. Some part of him screamed in fear as the great birds reached him first. The tooth filled beaks dropped down and he let out a wordless scream as he felt them tearing into his flesh. Their teeth sawed and pulled away before swallowing the offering. And then the rest were upon him.

It was pain, but not nearly enough to warrant what they were doing. It was fiery as they tore away his flesh bite by bite. Great bites, small bites, dainty nibbles and great tears. He screamed inside of his own mind as they took and cleaned the flesh from the bone. He knew he should have been dead as he watched his leg bones and arm bones appear. He knew he should have died from blood loss long ago, and that steadied him. It was only a dream. A vivid dream, but a dream none the less. He took shelter in that, but it was a weak shelter. It cracked as he felt the beasts cleaning him and his body crumbled without his spirit. He stared at the pile of bones and felt nothing but terror as they were scattered across the dark world.

"Bones, bones and flesh... Let us see what they tell us about who he is..." A voice sighed through the darkness before a white paw scattered the bones across the black.

Mark trembled slightly as the aged squirrel appeared with the strange beasts, but the beast wasn't aged here. He was strong and powerful, with a thick coat. The only thing that marked him was the clothing was the same. He was a creature in his prime as he scattered the bones apart and rolled them together again. His eyes were intent as he searched through them. He was looking for something, but Mark had no idea what he would be seeing. After several moments the squirrel plucked up a small bone and held it up with laughter. The bone was barely the size of a dime and flashed like the strange animals. It seemed to glow and brighten with the beating of the drums.

"Here we have it, my friends. I've found it." The shaman turned his head with a grin that flashed his large buck teeth. "You hid it well Marrck, but you can't hide the truth that is written in your bones."

Mark wanted to ask what truth, but he had no mouth, no body. It was only his spirit that floated and watched as the bone grew brighter. The shaman threw it through the darkness and towards his spirit. Mark tried to jerk back, but he couldn't. He was stuck in place as the shining light flared so bright it was almost painful. A ghostly outline flared around the bone. He only saw a hint of ears and a flashing tail before the ghostly creature crashed against him. The world erupted in light and fire that made him scream out soundlessly. The light twined through and around him. It embraced him or he embraced it. He felt as if something had come home to him, something important, something that he had been missing all his life. It wrapped him in the light so that the pain and fire were joined with a sense of welcome and love.

He felt tears rolling hotly down his face and streaming along the edge of his jaw. That was what sent him surging towards wakefulness. He came awake with a cry that made his throat ache and his breath catch. He could feel his vocal cords, sore and abused, and he knew that he had been crying out before this. He gasped for air, one great lungful after another before a hand pushed against his chest. He twisted his head and tried to struggle against the hold. He pushed at the hand that held him and shoved roughly at it to try and sit up. He didn't want to sleep anymore. He didn't want to be sucked back into that pain. He twisted and writhed until two hands firmly gripped his shoulders and he found himself staring up into Kitch's anxious face. The squirrel's ears were flicked back flat against his head.

"Be calm, be calm. It is over, sleep. No one will harm you, sleep. Please, Marrck." The squirrel spoke softly and the hands squeezed his shoulders firmly. "Please, just sleep... sleep..."

Mark tried to struggle back into sitting up, but Kitch's soft words wrapped around him and dragged him back down again. He was so exhausted. He had been asleep, but it felt as if he had come through a hundred days without sleep or food or water. His body was so tired, so horribly tired. Sleep rolled over him and this time it didn't drag him through his memories. The dreams that came were formless and soothing as they lapped along his consciousness. He allowed himself to relax with a shuddering sigh and went still on whatever soft furniture he was laying on.

~ ~ * ~ ~

The sound of raindrops came to Mark as if from a distance. The patter of them hitting against something hard above him mingled with the louder sound of millions of them hitting the ground outside of the building. They were falling steadily and disturbed the half-formed and strangely soothing dreams. He let them draw him back into his body as he slowly stirred; trying to ignore the faint ache that centered on his joints and lower back. The ache wasn't terrible. It was just a dull sensation; as if he had been working out for too long and had stiffened up. It made him take in a deep breath before shifting to his side. That one movement let him know that he was better off remaining on his stomach. The world spun and the darkness behind his closed lids showed flashes of light.

He remained on his stomach and chest and drew in deep slow breaths while he tried to stop the dizziness that was making him somewhat nauseous. He really didn't want to open his eyes. He was almost positive that the moment he did he would bring up everything in his stomach. It was bad enough that he could almost feel the world tilting beneath his prone body, he didn't need any visuals. Instead, he concentrated on what he could feel beneath him. He could feel something soft cupping under his jaw and his arms were folded beneath his chin so it was propped up[I3] . It felt like a pillow, but fur tickled his nose so that he was forced to twitch it rapidly to keep it from bothering him.

Something rested over his lower body, it felt thick and warm. It draped over his legs and all the way to his feet. It felt like fur, but it had long hairs that made him wonder what sort of fur they'd managed to find. His upper body was warm and felt clothed, but in something softer than his shirt. He'd obviously had his clothing changed as well. He wasn't sure when that had happened. The time he had spent asleep was a blur and he wasn't quite sure that he could believe anything he had seen or experienced in that time. He had slept like he had a fever. The dreams had been so vivid and strange that he shivered at their memory. Whatever he had been given to drink must have poisoned him. That could be the only explanation.

Eventually the world steadied, but he didn't try rolling onto his side again; instead, he slowly stirred and peeled open one eye. The moment he did he squinted it shut at the light coming in from the window. If it had been direct sunlight it would have been painful, but it was only the overcast light from outside. Even so, he had to squint to see past the light before he hesitantly opened his other eye . He hissed a bit at the brightness of the room, but at least it didn't start spinning again. It was just oddly focused and blurred around the edges. The colors seemed off to him and he let out a muted whimper when he moved his eyes about too fast.

"Marrck? Are you awake?" A soft voice came to him from one side of the bed and he turned his head slowly to find himself nearly nose to nose with Kitch.

"I'm awake." His voice sounded strange, forming the words was hard and his mouth felt dry and uncomfortable. "I've been sick?" He made it a question as Kitch pushed himself up from the side of the bed.

"No, you've been traveling in the spirit world. It has left you weak, but now you are back within your body and all is as it should be." Kitch spoke softly and leaned to one side to pick up a hollowed gourd that splashed with liquid. Mark pricked his ears up hopefully at the sight of it.

He pricked his ears up. He couldn't prick his ears up. The movement twitched the sides of his head and the moment he felt them move he became aware of a thousand things that didn't match up to what he'd known his entire life. His eyes snapped open wide and he moved a hand up to touch his nose, but it wasn't his nose. He brushed over a furred muzzle with the palm of his hand and stroked right along a pair of long whiskers that bobbed on either side of his cheeks. It wasn't just the muzzle, he stared down to find a pair of hands that didn't look like his at all. The fingers were slender and more delicate than they had been before, not to mention them being covered in dark, smooth grey fur. Where his nails had been before were now claws that curled to sharp points. The world swam and tilted wildly as he stared down at the inhuman appendages.

"Marrck!" Kitch's voice was sharp and he heard something fall to the ground near the bed. Suddenly Kitch was there, a paw on either side of Mark's face. "Do not panic! Please, please, do not panic."

The words came from a distance. Mark wasn't listening; he was too busy struggling to sit up on the bed so he could see what had changed. What else had gone wrong? What had they changed? Kitch gripped his shoulders, but he pushed upwards until he felt the blanket fall off his legs. The thick spill of fur rushed along his legs and a twitch jerked it back upright again. It was like being in a horror movie. He turned his head and stared along the line of his naked body to see the thick tail that had been covering his legs. His body was covered in fur! It coated along the curve of his hips, all the way to his lower legs. More panic rushed up as the hands on his shoulders tried to stroke his ears and neck. From a distance he could hear Kitch speaking softly in a soothing tone, but it didn't matter. He had to see it all.

The hands didn't try to pin or hold him down. They slipped away from him reluctantly as he battled to sit up. Nausea and dizziness hit him in waves, but he struggled through it so he could brace one hand against the bed and swing his legs down to the ground. His legs weren't shaped right anymore. They were bent in the wrong direction and more muscled then they had been, but they were also softer around his hips. He stared down the paler fur of his stomach and chest and the world swam. He swayed in place, not from the dizziness that he had gotten from sitting up, but from the shock. He wasn't staring at a bare furred chest, but one that had the soft rise of breasts. They appeared soft and were tipped with pale pink nipples, but it was when he looked lower that he lost his hold on himself. His entire gender had been changed. There was nothing left of what had been there.

Mark felt as if he were going to be sick. His stomach rebelled and twisted to the point that he leaned forward to cough roughly. Kitch's voice came with more panic to it as the hands wrapped around his waist and pulled him close. He struggled against the grip around his waist, he didn't want Kitch to touch him! He couldn't get away, not with his body starting to shake and tremble. He felt teeth larger then any he had ever known chattering together as cold enveloped him. A blanket was drawn around him and Kitch's body pressed close, but it wasn't a cold that had anything to do with the temperature around him. It came with the panic of seeing his body changed beyond recognition. It came with the terror of seeing everything he had accepted gone.

He? God, she... I'm not a man anymore... Not even human... She choked back tears at that realization, trying to stop them, but ultimately failing.

She broke down with Kitch's arms around her, too lost in her own fear to push him away. She cried in soft broken sounds as she drew the covers around her. Why had they done this? She had trusted the squirrel, she had trusted that he wouldn't see her harmed. She crumbled around the edges until the tears wet her furred face and her throat was sore. Through it all she heard Kitch talking, but his voice was meaningless. It was all meaningless! She cried until there were no tears left and her body was exhausted. She trembled against him, shaking so hard that her large teeth chattered and the only warmth came from the blanket and Kitch.

"Why would you do this to me?" She spoke and winced at her own rasping voice. Her throat was so sore.

"Please, please, do not be angry." Kitch's voice sounded strangely rough. She blinked a little and found his fur darkened with the path of his own tears. "I would not do anything to harm you. I would not break your heart or spirit. Not if the Lupar tribe had held me at spear point and promised me my life, would I do so. You must believe me, Marrck."

"Then why did you do this?" Mark lifted her head and the world swayed a bit, but not as much as it had been. It was a small improvement.

"I had no choice." Kitch stroked her back again as if trying to sooth her. "The Shaman had no choice. We only wished to give you our language, to give you the chance to know us. You would have been given a choice after knowing of my people if you wished..." The squirrel shook his head roughly. "We would not do this without your agreement, but we could not let you die."

"Die? You poisoned me." Mark sat up a bit and felt the world steadying around me. "I drank that... stuff and it poisoned me."

"No, no it was no poison!" The squirrel's head jerked up as if shocked. "It was made to help you understand me. That is all. It is something any shaman can make for any people. There are just too many languages, too many species' to know all of what they say. It allows you to understand us. If you made the potion yourself and I drank it, I would be able to understand you. That is all. Nothing more. I swear upon my honor that is all it is meant to do. That has nothing to do with why you have changed."

"Then why? Why do this to me? Why take away e-everything...?" Mark swallowed roughly and she felt Kitch slouching down slightly.

"Because you would have died. I do not know why, but you were sleeping well. It is a sleep that allows the mind to recover from the knowledge it is given." Kitch drew in a breath. "You were peacefully asleep, but you began to fade. Your breathing became shallow and your heart started beating too quickly. The Shaman said that you were dying and there was no way to fix you as you were."

"And it wasn't the potion?" Mark couldn't keep the anger out of her voice. "What if I had a bad reaction to it? What if that is what happened?"

"The Shaman would have known, I promise you that. He is a healer and he would have known of a bad reaction and purged you. It was not that. You were being rejected from our world..." Kitch stumbled slightly and furrowed his brows. "I do not understand what was said, not all of it. I am not a shaman, and I am not... taught in everything they do. I know only that you were dying because you didn't belong here and the realms will not tolerate cross overs for long. They cannot exist in a place they are not born in. I think..."

Mark watched the squirrel's face falter and she pinned her ears back. She wanted to be angry, she wanted to scream and yell about what was done to her. She was still upset and it burned in her stomach, but Kitch looked confused and worried. His dark eyes watched her carefully while he leaned forward. She had been dying? Why would the world reject her? That one phrase made some of the anger relax. She was obviously not their species or any species they had here, but that was no reason to think they would assume she wasn't of this world. The fact they even used that phrasing meant it could be true.

"So why this? Why not wake me and ask me?" She swallowed and gave her head a rough shake. "Why am I female? Why not a male at least?!"

"You could not be woken up. I was there, the Shaman said your heart was stopping and he would bring you out of it. I guarded you and watched as his spirit sought yours out. He said he would judge you and your world and save you if possible." Kitch's ears twitched backwards and he swallowed. "He was in his trance for a long time, until nearly a day had passed, but you breathed again and made noises in your sleep. In the end he came out and you were changing. I would never have forced this on you, Marrck, you must believe me. It is a great..." The squirrel stopped and tried to think of the word, obviously having a hard time of it. "It is a great sin to do this to the unwilling. It is wrong."

"And you did it anyway." Mark couldn't keep the bitterness from her words as she turned her head away. A soft noise froze her mid motion. She turned around to see the squirrel's eyes glistening slightly.

"I would not blame you if you were to hate me." Kitch spoke thickly. "If another tribe had forced me into this, I would hate the one who did it too."

"I..." Mark froze as Kitch started to turn away. Her heart gave a pained lurch at the tear that rolled down his cheek. "Kitch, you saved me. From the wolves, you saved me. I don't hate you. I just don't know what to do now."

"I saved you because..." Kitch sighed out and gave his head a shake. "I am sorry, Marrck, you are not of my kind. You don't know my tribe's customs."

"Just tell me. Please." Mark watched him tense up and Kitch pulled away from her so that the blanket fell down around her without him beneath it.

"I was on my Hunt. I was on the same hunt that all of us go through." He gave a weak smile. "I am not an old warrior, but I am an adult and it was time for me to pass one of the great tests. I went with only weapons that I created. If I had come across another warrior I would have challenged him to do battle. If I had returned after winning such a battle I would be a warrior, one of our males who protect our home and lands. If I had received a vision, I would be greeted as an apprentice to the shaman. If I had found herbs in abundance, I would become one of our healers. I found you."

Kitch glanced down at his paws nervously. "I thought you were a warrior, a strange warrior, but I thought that we would do battle. But you didn't understand my challenge, that was when I saw that the Lupar were after you. I couldn't leave you there to be eaten by them. They are a harsh people and would have killed you. So I... I helped you." The squirrel looked up and his ears flicked back. "I did not think what it would mean. I needed to help you. You were so strange, but helpless in the trees. I only wanted to get you away."

"You did." Mark blinked a little and didn't understand the anguish in the squirrel's tone. "You got me away, we both got away."

"More you then me at the last." Kitch gave a brief smile and it faltered. "I didn't expect them to leave the woods, so I did what I had to. I took you to the river near the Hissain bridge; our sacred bridge. It marks the dividers between the worlds. The wolves will not cross it. To cross it would result in a fate worse than death for them. I knew... I knew then what it meant. That river is sacred. It is a place that we recognize as a passageway to the worlds. Those that travel over it come in contact with the spirits when they are alone. When they are together..."

Kitch stopped talking and jerked his head up to meet Mark's eyes. His brows furrowed and his tail dropped to lay over the bed. "When they are together they are bound together in that world. The spirits joined and touching for a brief moment so that nothing can sunder them again. Do you understand what that means?"

"No." Mark felt her stomach turn cold and Kitch gave his head another jerking shake back and forth. The movements made his ears sway slightly and he moved a paw out to touch Mark's.

"It means that you are as you are, because the spirits saw us there. You grabbed me and held me secure against the river. You pulled me back and they recognize that. If... if we had not crossed the river together, you would not be female." Kitch licked his whiskers with a brief flutter of his pink tongue. "But, they saw us and male joins to female. It is the way of it and has been since the beginning. The spirits pulled your body into our world again and made you this way." Kitch drew in a trembling breath as Mark stared at him. She couldn't think, she couldn't move.

"If this had not happened I would have explained slowly. I would have spoken of who we are and what we mean. I would have shown you everything here and told you of your choices. It should never have been this way. I do not wish you to be trapped here, nor anywhere you do not wish to be." Kitch dropped his head into his paws. "So you see Marrck, you can hate me now; because now you know. The spirits saw you as my mate, so they made you into my mate. It shouldn't have been like this. I do not blame you if you hate me."

Mark stared at the squirrel her head feeling dizzy and light. She couldn't think clearly. She could only hear what he was saying with growing disbelief. She dropped her hands, paws, down to either side of the bed she was sitting on and leaned forward to try and control her breathing. She started to shake, from her nose to her tail she started to tremble again. She couldn't stop it once it started. It rattled her teeth and her breathing started to come shallower. She didn't know what to think, only that she would have never imagined something like this happening to her; not in a hundred years.

Kitch let out a soft noise and she jerked her head up to see him standing beside her. His eyes were large, dark and haunted looking as he stared down at her. He didn't try to touch her, he only watched her and gave his head a shake.

"I am so sorry, Marrck. So very sorry." The words were barely a whisper, but the pain in them made her heart ache. It helped her focus and clear her thoughts and she frowned to herself.

"I will leave you. You need not see me, but you will need to speak with the Shaman. He... he will help you." As he spoke Kitch started to back away from her and turned his head to one side. The heart ache was almost palpable.

"Kitch..." She spoke without thinking. "I... I don't know you, I don't know what's going on, but I'd be dead without you. I can't hate you for that."

Mark spoke slowly and tried to speak the truth. She didn't know what to do or say right now, she only knew that she wanted to stop the pain that she felt emanating from the squirrel. He stopped and blinked up at her in surprise. He neither moved nor spoke. He let the silence stretch out between them as she struggled to find something to say to him. She couldn't profess undying love for him, she couldn't even say she understood what had been done to her. She couldn't lie to him either. She finally settled on the truth.

"I want you to help me. I don't know the Shaman. I don't know anyone here." She looked around the strange room and then focused back on him. "I trust you. You saved me, I saved you. Maybe not the way we wanted, but that is more then I can say for the Shaman."

"You don't... want me to go?" He perked up his tufted ears slightly and there was hope in his voice. "I thought you would hate me and tell me to leave you. That you would tell me I am a horrible creature and should have left you to the Lupar."

"I don't think that." Mark spoke quietly and held up one paw and drew her blankets over her nudity with the other. "I may need time to understand what's happening, but I know I don't hate you. You could have left me to die, but instead you risked your own life for me." She swallowed and let a smile form on her muzzle. "I don't know what happened past that, but that makes us friends."

"Friends?" Kitch tilted his head and looked at her hand and then back up at her face. The look made the heat rush to her cheeks. "I would be friends with you, Marrck. I would teach you everything I can."

His hand moved forward and slipped into her own. This time there wasn't a shock of feeling fur against her bare palm. She had fur too. He squeezed her fingers gently and stepped closer. His face was so earnest and without guile that it made her smile all the more. She didn't know how old he was, but his expression comforted her.

"Then let's be friends, Kitch." She shook his hand purposefully up and down. "And you can try and help me understand what this means."

"It would be my honor, Marrck." The words came with a chirr and she flushed a bit more. She didn't know what she'd gotten herself into, or why, but she had to make the best of the situation. But looking into Kitch's eyes, she wondered just what the best of the situation might be.