Brandon's Story...Uncut

[MrWolf12]

I thought i would take a hint from several others here who have done the same and repost all these bits and pieces of my writing and get them in order and together.

Also, like others, I must ask that no one post comments here. I just want this thread for the story. Those you can put on the older thread here:

http://forums.pleasurebonbon.com/forums/viewtopic.php?t=4748

Thank you. Enjoy.

[MrWolf12]

The crewman's head snapped violently to his right, spraying the inner hull with red and bits of teeth. The meaty fist that had done the damage continued its wide arc, connecting with yet another head foolish enough to be in the way. This time the force centered upon the victim's temple, instantly glazing the otter's eyes and sending him to the floor and into unconsciousness. The owner of the fist stepped back from the two prone forms at his feet, while around him the rest of the crew filled the space of the ship's hold with the howls and roars of dissatisfaction.

"How dare he?!", came the yells. "To think he's fit to be among us!"

Their anger centered upon the one still standing, his towering frame several heads above the ones around him. The long dark fur the covered the thickly corded muscles of his arms wavered slightly in the heated, musk scented air. Steaming breath bellowed from his barreled chest, to vent though the end of a short broad muzzle. The thin lips at its edges peeled back in a snarl, the light of the several flaming lanterns glinted off the curved pointed teeth that were exposed. Eyes the color of molten gold shined from beneath the tangled ropes of long dark hair that hung before his face, a face the color of damp earth, outlined in lighter tan. Curling around his eye, within the band of lighter fur, a white colored mark began right above his left eye and curved around, smaller claw shaped marks protruding from the outer edge before the marking ended at the jaw. The movement of his bare feet, as he turned to face those around him, cause the worn edges of the simple hide trousers he wore to flutter. It was his only clothing, save for the leather string of carved wooden beads that hung tightly around his neck, Otherwise, from the waist up, all was deep brown-black fur, with long strips of tan running from the pit of his arms down his sides. The typical coloring for a wolverine like him.

His thick muscles corded, short bushy tail bristled. They started for him then, a wave of angry faces with eyes filled with venom. His fisted tightened.....ready.

"STOP THIS!!!"

Heads turned to the steps leading into the hold. Holding a lantern, the captain glared at the gaggle before him. The scowl on his bill was enough to quiet them all. Despite it being the middle of the night, the old duck still wore his full uniform. Silks of blue and red, trimmed in sparkling gold, shined in the fire light. Medals clacked together upon his chest. As he strode into the hold, the crewman parted. He was short, barely reaching chest height of most of the men, but, as he looked at each with his one good eye, they showed tremendous respect by cowing. Yes, he only had one eye. Where the right one would have set, a rolled scarf of scarlet hue ran around his head at an angle. Featherless scars spidered from under the silk, hinting at an old grievous injury.

"Everyone back to your bunks!", he ordered, "NOW!!! Or I'll hang you from the mast myself!!!"

Faces scattered in all directions. "You two." called the captain, two beavers turned toward him, standing straighter. "Pick up your fellow crewmen." he motioned to the ones still attempting to lift themselves from the floor, blood still trickling from ones jaw, the other sporting a large blue-black lump at his temple. "Wake the doctor and get them treated."

"Yes, sir." both beavers called, before shouldering the two injured men, and helping them up the steps.

Now, the captains eyes turned to where the wolverine still stood, his body relaxed, even as the captain wobbled up to him. Having to crane his neck up to look at him, the old captain's face lost some of it's ferocity.

"I'm sorry, son." he sighed. "I'm afraid my crew are not as open minded as I."

The wolverine looked down at the duck. "It's alright, sir." he said in a deep yet smooth voice. "It's not the first time." Those gold eyes glancing sideways as memories flashed, memories filled with pain. He had faced such prejudice against his people before. At the same time, the captain took note of all the scars that marked the younger crewman's body.

After a moment of silence, the captain spoke. "We should make berth in three days. At that time you, may if you wish, take as much from the stores as your belly can carry. Also, you've done an excellent job these last few months, and you've earned a well deserved pay when we reach port. More then enough to give you a good head start on your journey. Ah, speaking of which." Reaching into his pocket, the duck pulled out a small piece of parchment. Handing it over, he added, "The name of a town. From what you've told me, i think it would be the most likely place. And even if it isn't, it would be the best place to start looking."

"Thank you, sir." the wolverine spoke, taking the bit of paper from the captain. Unfolding it, he read the name of the town. 'BonBon'. Looking back to the captain, "And the item I..."

"Safe," the captain cut in, grinning reassuringly, "In my quarters under lock and key."

Nodding, the larger male turned to make for the stairs leading out of the hold.

Watching for a moment, the captain asked, "She must mean a lot to you." The wolverine stopped. "To come all this way, from the New World to the Old."

There was silence, broken only by the soft gurgling of the water lapping at the ship outside.

"Yes." the younger one spoke, "She's all the family I have left." And with that, he moved up the steps, leaving the captain alone in the hold.

Until, finally, the captain also hobbled up those same stairs towards his personal quarters, eager to know the comfort of his bed.

[MrWolf12]

"My, this is most impressive!" Sibilla commented in a whispered voice. Brandon stood silently as her delicate fingers tried in vain to wrap around it's girth. She squeezed, her eyes again showing awe at it's firmness.

"This must be the best looking Valerian root I have ever seen!" she exclaimed, the airy melodic sound of her voice filling the shadowed room, as she examined the thick yellowish-brown tuber she held, the target of her excitement. Gently, she placed the plant part upon one side of the brass scales that stood upon the table between her and the taller form of Brandon. The room in which they stood was the one in which Sibilla stored the many herbs, oils, and tinctures she used for all her natural cures and medicines. Around them, the walls were lined with shelf upon shelf, each filled with jars, boxes, and bags. The air was thick with the scents of lavender, bay, and many other exotic specimens.

Still quiet, Brandon patiently watched as the gypsy carefully began placing the small weights onto the other side of the scales. Bit by bit, the two plates lifted and lowered, until they at last were equal. Again, the lovely skunk's eyes shined. "One hundred and sixty five grams! Amazing!" Looking up, her glistening violet eyes looking upon the wolverine, "How on earth did you grow this? I've only ever seen them perhaps as big as my finger." Looking down at the root once again, shaking her head. " It must be at least three times the size."

Brandon only shrugged. "I've just always had a talent for growing things big." the wolverine commented matter-of-factly.

As she heard him, Sibilla had to fight the grin that threatened to pull at the corners of her soft lips, while keeping her gaze upon the root. Despite the connotations of what he said, she knew he was actually being very frank. In the year since she had been doing business with him, she had come to know him as not being one to make lewd comments. Actually, as she thought about it, it was one of the few things she did know about him. As her eyes peered up at him again, she thought back to their first meeting. She remembered the imposing sight of him lumbering through her doors, shirtless and shoeless. His only clothing a pair of worn trousers, caked and stained with mud. She almost commanded him to leave, as he offered his freshly grown herbs in that deep yet soft voice; but then, she saw his eyes. Hidden behind the long wild hair that hung before his face, those rare eyes seemed to glow. As if someone had taken polished spheres of pure gold and placed them upon his face. Those eyes shined with such warmth, as if smiling for a face that did not seem able. Yet, there was also a fire, a touch of something untamed.

Sibilla started, awakening from her memory and finding herself staring at those golden eyes, eyes that were looking back in question. "Yes, well..." Straightening herself, she spoke, "This is an excellent Valerian root. I would be happy to take it off your hands, those I know suffering from insomnia will be most grateful." She then removed the root from the scales, wrapping it once more within the cloths it had been brought in. "I can only hope the rest you have brought me is as impressive."

Brandon nodded, then stooped to reach into the huge burlap sack where it sat at his feet. The open top bursting with flowers of every color and shape, bound for the flower sellers whose carts lined the streets of BonBon. As Sibilla looked on, he reached past the mass of blossoms, seeking something nearer the bottom. His bare back to her, Sibilla could watch the masses of thick muscle cord and ripple under the thick coarse fur. Yet, what truly caught her eye, as they always did, were the multitude of thin jagged hairless scars that slashed and criss-crossed over the whole of his back. Even though he wore other scars, some on his arms, a few cutting into his wide barrel chest, it was his back that seemed to be the most savaged by them. An unpleasant chill raced up her body. What could have made them? Just what has this man been through?

He stood then, breaking her from her thoughts as he straightened, placing a large bundle upon the table, made of yet more course burlap and tied about it's center with twine. He loosened the knot, unrolling the bundle and spreading it contents along the cloth. Sibilla ran her hands over the many different green leaves and bits of bark. A few bunches she lifted to her nose, breathing there strong heady scent. "Lovely." she whispered, bruising the leaf of another bunch and sniffing her fingers, "Mmmmm, beautiful." She doted over every sample, each time muttering a praise. At last looking up to Brandon, smiling, "Everything, perfect. As always." And, as she gathered the bundle up loosely, "So, what do I owe one bearing such wonderful gifts?"

Brandon paused, thinking for a moment before saying, "Twenty florins?"

"Ah, a very kind price. Agreed.", Sibilla answered, reaching for the small coin purse that sat upon a self nearby. From it she pulled several coppery coins, and placed them into the wolverine's outstretched hand. Again she smiled at the male, and though his lips did not move, those eyes shined with thanks. Letting her hands linger for just a moment longer upon his, she soon let it slip from her touch.

Gathering her new herbs, Sibilla turned to place them on one of the shelves behind her. And, as she twisted back to face Brandon, she made to ask him about staying for a....

He was gone, the front door latching just at that moment. And there, on the table before her.......a single purple rose.



Her smile grew as she lifted that gorgeous lavender hued bloom to her muzzle. And, as she breathed its sweet delicate scent, she found herself anxious for the next time her shelves needed refilling.

[MrWolf12]

The sun had just risen over the distant mountains, lighting their jagged, white capped peaks with streaks of red and orange. As the dawn crested the great rock cliffs, the valley below lost its dark blanket of shadow, revealing a sea of green grass waving in the gentle breeze, strewn with trees of oak and maple. Here and there, thin side winding streams bubbled and flowed from the very snow tops above, fueling that vast expanse of life with their cool clear waters. Upon the side of one such stream, a deer stood upon four springy legs, silent, majestic; it’s head down, sipping the trickling liquid. While, high above, a hawk glided, looking toward the ground with sharp eyes, while equally sharp talons twitched; anticipating. Suddenly, it dived, it’s wings tucked in close, a red tinged streak heading for the ground below! Faster, faster it dove. Then, those powerful wings stretched, catching the wind and slowing the raptor’s decent, while its hooked feet lowered and opened. With a quickening swoop, those claws skimmed the earth, catching and skewering the small vole before it had even a chance to squeak in alarm. Then up into the air the great bird flew, soaring into the distance, savoring the time before enjoying the meal clutched tightly in its feet.

These were the sights that filled the young wolverine's eyes as he walked the single dusty dirt path that scared this perfect picture of nature, running from the gap that cut the mountains in the east and slicing though the very center of the valley. His bare feet padded the dry earth, sending up clouds of tan dust. Were things different, he would have enjoyed this walk through the trees, their leaves dancing and singing in the wind, the same that even now kissed upon his cheek. However, as he slowed to take in the wondrous sights before him, there came a hard yank upon the rope noosed tightly around his neck!

“Keep moving, you little shit!” growled the heavily jawed bull dog from the saddle of his horse. Eyeing the young one behind him, the canine snarled, and tugged upon the end of the rope that he held in one hand, as the other flicked the reins of his horse, encouraging a faster pace. Metal shoed hooves clacked on the rock sprinkled path, the faded and tattered gray uniform he wore fluttered as the dog turned his dark brown eyes back onto the road. The young wolverine hurried to keep from being dragged, tossing his bound hands about to stay his balance, as his legs felt wobbly with fatigue. Burrs and other debris clung to his dark tangled fur. The tanned hide leggings he wore nearly as shredded as the pads on his feet. How long had we been walking?, he wondered. As he tried to remember, another voice shouted, this one higher pitched, tinged with a strange accent.

“You ‘eard ‘im!” the voice belonged to a skinny grayish fox riding just to the left and back of the bull dog, a long oil-skin coat covering him from shoulder to feet. “Come’on! You ‘ad be’er not slow ‘ma down, ya puke!” At that, the fox’s mount leapt up beside the dog’s, the latter turning to see the former pulling taut upon a line that ran from the rear horn of his saddle. The wolverine cub looked to see the loop of that rope as it coiled around the thin neck of a young coyote. The coyote stumbled, his small chest heaving as he took in every hard earned breath. His leather vest ripped in places, as were his trousers. The long braids that had once fell on either side of his face had been savagely sheared off, leaving tattered stubbles just below his pointed ears. More to insult then injure. His bound hands clasping the rope that lead from his neck, trying to keep it slack. He turned his eyes to the young wolverine, their usually vivid green color nearly unseen though the veil of weakness and torment. One eye nearly swollen closed, from what the wolverine knew had been a powerful blow from the bull dog when his pace hadn’t been quick enough. Yet, even as he looked at the wolverine through the mask of pain, the coyote managed a weak smile.

Looking upon the young coyote’s bruised face, the pain of the wolverine cub’s own wounds seemed to lessen. The cuts on his muzzle and cheeks, chest and arms, he no longer felt, for a greater pain began to throb. This one from within, the pain of guilt. Tearing his eyes away from his friend, he pointed them to the ground as the tears started to well. My fault, he cursed at himself, all my fault! He then pushed those thoughts, as well as the tears, back, not wanting to let them be seen, either by his friend, or by the two monsters riding before them. At that, the wolverine’s golden eyes looked up, glaring into the backs of the two on horses. Monsters they were, beating and tormenting the youths for nothing more then being in the wrong place at the wrong time. How many times had they made them taste their own blood?…feel those meaty fists pounding upon their heads? Slowly, the guilt that still tugged at the heart of the wolverine began to change. Instead of dull aching, it started to burn. Hotter and hotter. Guilt became anger. Anger became hate. And as they rounded a bend in the road, and the looming form of high wooden walls and patrolled battlements came into view, so did the first few flames of rage begin to flare.

********************

Pain! Searing white hot agony coursed through every limb as again the whip came cracking down, shearing a thin strip of fur and flesh from the wolverine cub’s back! He cried out as a fresh coat of crimson soaked his fur, a wail of almost impossible torment. Slumping against the wooden stake to which he was bound, he tried in vain to pull air into his aching lungs. His back was on fire! Lash upon lash, he’d lost count of how many. Legs wobbling, he fell to his knees, hanging by his hands from the wide post. His vision blurred through tear filled eyes. In his ears, his pounding heart thundered, yet he could still make out the taunting jeers from the surrounding group of men, as well as the shrill nerve grating laughter of the huge boar, whose whip had sliced so many times into the young boys flesh. Panting, his knees sunk into the red stained dirt, but then, the youth’s ears perked, as there came a new sound.

“My, My. Well done.” A smooth tone, yet, the voice carried a sinister edge beneath that brought a chill to the cub. Blinking to try and clear the fluid from his sight, the young wolverine weakly lifted his head, turning slowly towards the direction of the mock praise. As blurs became more defined, the world around him came into focus. Small buildings, some of wood, some of stone, were neatly arranged in two parallel lines. He himself placed between them, he could look from one end of the rows to the other. It also let him see the high wooden wall that enclosed it all. Made of cut timbers, it stretched tall, making a complete loop around the buildings. Looking around the post he leaned against, the wolverine could spy the single gate. Its huge heavy wood doors, through which he had passed so recently, were tightly shut. At even points, tall towers lifted from the wall, a soaring vantage point.

And it was from one of these towers that a figure now came. The air about his head seeming to shimmer. Only when he drew closer, could the wolverine see the shimmering was actually a halo of smoke curling around his head from the thick cigar he held tight in his teeth. Closer, and his gray colored uniform now became clear. Much like that worn by the bull dog, as well as the other men. Though while those were torn and faded, the one worn by this new face was pristine, neat and well kept. Medals of varied size and shape shined upon his chest from the early morning sun. A wide brimmed hat, corded with gold ropes, shaded the long face of a canine beneath. The glittering butt of a sword could be seem hanging from the belt at his waist. The fur covering what could be seen of his face was the yellow color of ripened wheat.

Approaching the still kneeling wolverine, the gold Labrador stood over him, puffing a few times on the cigar, then spoke. “Welcome to Fort Carlton. Ma name is Gen’ral Mathew Carlton the Third.” The wolverine did not look up, or give any acknowledgement to the canine hovering over him, letting his gaze stare at the dusty dirt at his feet. The General raised an eyebrow, before continuing.

“I must ad’mit. I am impressed you took as much as you did, son.” He then stooped down, closer to the cub, looking over his back with great interest. “Twenty-five lashes it took to drop ya to yer knees. Most impressive. I have heard your kind are made of sterner stuff. I see its true.“ The lab stood, and backed up a few steps, “Yet, I’m afraid that quality is not shared by yer friend.” The wolverine strained to pick his eyes from the ground, and look in the same direction as the canine. What he saw caused tears to fall anew down his face.

The young coyote’s body was limp from where it dangled from the post, almost lifeless save for the slight fluttering of his chest, his breaths shallow. On the ground a puddle of red glimmered, fed by the flow of blood dripping from his shredded back. The sight tore at the wolverine cub more so then even the whip had.

“I truly despise such punishments.” the General spoke, with a puff on his cigar, “But, as I’ve learned in ma years of service. Lessons that are learned through pain are rarely forgotten.” He then turned to the gathering of solders surrounding the spectacle, speaking louder so they all could hear, “ ‘Spare the rod, spoil the child’, is that not right?” In answer there came a loud mix of menacing laughter and shouts of agreement. He then approached the slight form of the coyote pup, grasping him by the scruff, pulling the limp body up to his eye level, as if the youth was nothing more then a curiosity the canine wished a closer look of. Holding him there for a moment, the General wrinkled his muzzle, before dropping him like a sack back to the ground. The pup yelped as his arms got yanked, stopped before his body by the rope binding his wrists.

That sound, the voice of his dear friend calling out in pain, rang loud in the wolverine’s head. The fire that had been burning in his stomach suddenly leapt higher, the flames reaching the base of his throat, fed by the growing rage inside the small youth. At that moment, he wanted nothing more then to repay every wound, every pain that they had suffered onto all those present, especially the canine that now turned towards him, his eye full of contempt.

“You two invade a official military camp,” a few steps closer to the wolverine, the canine loomed over him, “Try to steal food from the very mouths of my soldiers.” A sigh followed, the Labrador shaking his head. “Soldiers that try so hard to protect these lands, in turn, protect you.” Reaching down, the Labrador’s fingers pinched the skin just under the wolverine’s muzzle, pulling up the youth’s face, that had been lowered till then, so that their eyes met. Venom seemed to boil in the canine’s brown eyes. “You should be thankful. You should be respectful.” His voice lowered to a growl, “You should know your place!”

What happened next seemed a blur to the wolverine. All he could recall was the look in the eyes of the canine, such insult and disgust. The heat, the anger, suddenly flared in the cub, and, in the time it takes to blink an eye, he pulled free of the lab’s grip, and sank his teeth into, and through, the forefinger of his still outstretched hand! Even as young as he was, his powerful jaws cut his teeth through the flesh, and crushed the bone easily. Warm, salty blood flooded his mouth as he retched the body part from the hand that had threatened him.

The Labrador leapt back, screaming and cursing, cradling the now four-fingered hand to his chest, red arcing from the short jagged stump were the finger had been. From everywhere, booted feet hammered the ground as the surrounding men raced to the scene. From behind the wolverine, the wild boar charged forward, before taking the youth’s head in his huge hand and slamming it against the sturdy wooden post. The impact jarred the boy’s mouth, letting the severed digit fall to the ground, along with a gout of blood. The boar then drew a long heavy blade, pressing it to the wolverine’s throat.

“Hold!!” Faces turned as the General shoved helping hands from him, pushing past the mob of soldiers. His face was a mask of pain and seething hate. His hat had somehow fallen from its place, showing how his fur was now ruffled and mussed. A loose cloth had been wrapped around his injured hand, crimson soaking through as he strode up to where the wolverine was being held. Panting in fury, the canine yanked the blade from the boar, and held it under the youth’s throat himself. The cold metal shook as the hand that held it trembled in anger and pain.

They locked gazes, the blood stained face of the wolverine looking up at the fuming visage of the Labrador, seeing the foam drip from the corner of the canines snarling muzzle. This was it, the youth knew. Soon the metal will slide through the skin of his neck, and death will come swiftly. His only hope was that perhaps with his death, that their need to torment would be spent, and that his friend may live. He was no threat, could do no harm. So, the wolverine cub readied himself, thought of his family, his father and sister, hoping they would know and understand. He thought of his mother, speaking a silent prayer that his spirit would find her’s and be with her again in the open fields and clear skies of what waited after death.

But that never came. For the youth had neither the age or experience to fully know how depraved someone could become. He would soon learn. For as he prepared for death, so did the blade move from his neck. As he watched, the General stepped back, wobbling slightly, his eyes wild, almost crazed. With a embittered snarl still splitting his muzzle, he continued walking backward, the men behind him parting the way. At first puzzled, the wolverine cub felt cold fear run down his spine. And, as he saw were the crazed canine was moving toward, fear turned to horror. He struggled, but was no match for the sheer strength of the boar holding him. Terrified, he saw the Labrador pull the slightly struggling coyote up by the fur on his head. Before his eyes, in what felt like a lifetime, the shining blade of the knife was put to the pup’s throat, the lab turned to look at the wolverine, a sick twisted smile curling. The cubs eyes widened, and he screamed, as the blade slide across the coyote’s throat. At first, nothing seemed to happen, but then, a red line appeared, followed quickly by pulses of crimson flowing down the pup’s chest. The coyote eyes suddenly shot open, wiggling enough to free himself from the grip of the General. Falling to the earth, the coyote flailed, his weak body unable to do much more. He turned to look at his friend were he was screaming. His muzzle opened, but all that emerged were red bubbles that also spilled from the gash in this neck. His movements began to slow, as did the flow of blood. Slowly, the light left the coyote’s green eyes, his head slumping.

A moment later, he was gone.

Screams still poured from the wolverine, while tears streamed his face. He had watched the life drain from his friend, had seen the last gaze from those intense eyes. His struggling became more vigorous, his jaws gnashed, flinging foam in all directions. So overcome with grief and guilt, the cub didn’t notice the nod the General gave to the boar holding him. He barely felt the release from the huge soldiers grip. And he never saw the massive fist that came crashing down upon his head.

Then there was only darkness.



Dark…..quiet……nothing.

“Why did….”

A voice?

“Why did you let them kill me?”

I didn’t mean for it to happen…I’m sorry!

“You let them kill me.”

I’m sorry….forgive me

“YOU LET THEM KILL ME!!!”

Please, forgive me….I’m sorry….I’m sorry!!!

“ YOU KILLED ME!! YOU KILLED ME!!! YOU KILLED ME!!!!”

No! I didn’t!! No, please!!!

“YOUR FAULT!!! YOUR FAULT!!! YOUR FAULT!!! YOUR FAULT!!! YOUR FAULT!!!”

NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO!

****************

“Nooooooooooooo!”

Brandon awoke screaming, the voice of the coyote pup still ringing in his ear. He shot up from the mat on which he slept and jumped to his feet. Panting heavily, he slammed through the cabin’s door and ran outside, negligent of his bare body.

Rain was pouring down, the night sky was not but vicious clouds, filling the dark with flashes of lightening and cracks of thunder. This all went unnoticed by the wolverine who ran under it. Out into his garden, Brandon slowed, then finally stopped. His wide chest heaved, breath steaming from his muzzle. The rain soaked through the fur of his naked body, cooling the burning in the scars on his back, as he fell to his knees, sinking into the muddy earth. His arms limp at his sides, head bowed. The tears came then, pouring from his golden eyes, mixing with the rain water that streamed around his face.

He wept. And under the clamor of the pounding rain and claps of thunder, he whispered over and over.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

[MrWolf12]

One year earlier......

Soft sheets bunched as she stretch languidly, mouth opened in a wide yawn as sleep loosened its hold. Over sharp teeth a pink tongue swiped, wetting her sleep-dried lips. Golden colored eyes opened then, looking out the window just to her right at the blazing sunrise. Kicking back the sheets and swinging her feet, she sat for a moment upon the edge of the bed. Again she stretched, arms up and back behind her, as she looked about her room. Not as lavish as most here in BonBon, but it was comfortable. Large enough to contain the king size bed, as well as a large wardrobe and mirrored dresser, both the color of deep cherry. The window from which the morning sun shined dominated one end wall, while a plush lounge the color of cream rested just beneath it.

Running her hands through the thick mane of long dark red hair that crested her head, she itched behind her fine furred ears.

“Today‘s the day,” she spoke, her voice soft, still waking. She stood, the thick carpet beneath her feet feeling good as she flexed her toes. Bare as the day of her birth, she walking towards the wardrobe. Crossing in front of the full length mirror that stood in the space between the dresser and closet, she paused. Grinning as she allowed herself a moment of narcissism, admiring her reflection as she struck a pose or two. Under the covering of short slightly course fur, the color of dark crimson, she watched tone muscle flex. With her back to the reflection, she admired the lushness of her hips, where long, strong runner's legs connected. A full backside crowned by a long tail, draped in equally long, thick, dark hair. Above that, a gently curving waist lead to a back layered in muscle, hidden by the curtain of wavy hair pouring from between two pointed ears. Turning, she watched as the rest of her treasures came into view. A flat, hardened tummy showcased the four tight bundles of muscle covering it. With her arms lifted above her head, the full glory of her ripe breasts were gifted to her sight. From throat to groin, her fur had the color of ripe wheat, an orange tinted tan. While, along her arms and legs, the deep dark shade of reddish brown dominated. As it did around the periphery of her finely featured face. A short muzzle lay under two eyes that shown like polished gold. The same hue on her chest also colored the area of her face.

She smiled, pleased with what she saw. Still looking into the mirror, her fingers lifted to the top of her chest. There, they casually began to trace the thin black lines that crisscrossed just above the start of her bust. Memories flooded her then, memories of family, of a time when a girl found she was a woman, earning the mark that showed all that very fact. Studying the tattoo, she began tracing the lines as they went this way and that, some dipping into her cleavage. So enthralled in her thoughts, when the knock came to the door, she jumped....

"You decent?" came a familiar voice from the other side.

Reaching over to the wardrobe, she withdrew a soft robe and slipped it on. "I am now. Come on in."

The door to the room opened, and in stepped a rather large, imposing form. Her blue silken dress barely covered more then from mid thigh to mid bust, and what wasn't covered bristled with huge muscles. However, as the robed female walked over and embraced her dear friend, it showed that the largest muscle the bear had was her heart.

"I am so sorry, Loucille." the woman in the robe stated, letting the other loose from the hug, and seating herself upon the bed again. "I can't believe I let myself get so out of hand."

Loucille stepped inside the room, shutting the door behind her. "Out of hand..." she walked up to the seated female. "....nearly starting a bar brawl because some guy looked at you wrong.....yeah....maybe a little." There was no sarcasm in the bear's voice, only concern.

From her seat on the bed, the other woman looked up at the towering bear. "I am sorry. I guess from now on I'd better be careful with the spirits."

"A good idea." Loucille replied, remembering a very drunken version of the one before her the previous night. "If it had happened in the Delight Castle, you might have been thrown out of town."

"I know." the woman said, with a voice full of apology. The sudden feel of a gentle hand on her shoulder made her look back up into Loucille's smiling face.

"No need to mope about, Gabrielle." she said. "Besides, the guy was a jerk anyways." A wink followed.

Gabrielle smiled. With a deep breath, she stood. Loucille was making to put out her hands, as if expecting to steady her friend.

Gabrielle noticed, "Oh, don't worry, I'm fine. I've never had a problem with drink the next day." With that, she made her way to the wardrobe.

Loucille watched, amazed. "You're making me envious of your constitution, hun." Then, as Gabrielle cast her robe off and onto the bed, Loucille added.."...among other things."

Gabrielle turned as she opened the wardrobe. "Oh hun. You have nothing to be wanting."

"Don't get me wrong." Loucille said. "I'm very happy with the body I have. I went through alot to get it." the word 'alot' being emphasized.

As Gabrielle began dressing, she spoke, "What you need to do is stop giving in to those little stick figure looking men you are always with..." she paused to tie the cords that secured the skirt around her waist. Consisting of two lengths of supple woven leather, one in front and one behind, that reached almost to her feet. Either side totally open, reveling her legs up to the hips. Finishing the knot, she continued, ".....what you need is a real man. One that can satisfy a real woman." With that, she added her own wink toward Loucille.

The bear smiled big, giggling softly. "How true. Would be nice to be with one who could keep up!"

"In more ways then one!" Gabrielle added, getting them both laughing out loud.

Calming down from her laugh, Loucille saw that her friend had finished dressing. A bustier-type of garment, made of the same soft naturally colored leather as the skirt, was wrapped around her torso; though it wasn't tied nearly as tight as ordinary, and it covered everything up to her underarms. A pair of similar leather boots slipped up to mid calf. Loucille had to admit, though Gabrielle didn't show nearly as much as the other girls in town, with the clothes she wore and her strong muscled, yet feminine body, Loucille though she was very attractive, in an almost fierce, maybe even dangerous, way.

When the dark furred female pulled a large satchel from the closet, Loucille recalled the conversation from the other night. Her face saddened. "So, you still going, huh."

Gabrielle placed the last of her belongings from the closet into the bag, before turning and looking at the bear. Placing the satchel on the bed, she walked over to her dearest friend, taking the bear's large hand in her's, patting it softly. "You have been so kind to me these last few years. You and the other street girls. I had nothing when I got here, you took me in, and gave me a roof, food, and friendship." She looked up to see tears falling from Loucille's brown eyes. "Even tonight, you put me up in this room, and gave me a farewell party to send me off right." She squeezed Loucille's hand. "I could never repay such kindness."

Loucille sniffled, looking at her friend, "But you really need to do this."

Gabrielle nodded. "I do. Its the very reason I came to this country all those years ago. I need to finish what I started."

"And you still don't want to tell what that is." Loucille spoke, a playful smirk curling under her tear reddened eyes.

It was returned by Gabrielle, "Nope. I can't." Patting the bear's hand once more, she let it go, scooping up her bag and tossing it over her shoulder. "There is one thing though." She turned to see a curious look from her friend. "I was wondering if you could keep an eye out for someone after I leave."

"Oh? Who?" Loucille asked.

"Its a long shot, but, a male may come looking for me. My age and my height. Oh, and he'll have a mark above his left eye. If you should meet him, tell him I said to stay here. If he wants he can use my forest cabin. Above all, tell him to stay here. I plan on returning."

Loucille’s eyes brightened some at hearing that her friend would be coming back. However, she was still quite curious. “I will do what I can, of course. But, who is this person you think is coming?"

Gabrielle was making for the door when she stopped and turned around. "He....would be my brother."

"Your brother?" Loucille asked. Then, remembering where Gabrielle had said she was from, added, "You really think he'd come across the sea to find you?"

Gabrielle was reaching for the door, "Oh yes!" She then turned towards the bear, a grin showing her sharp teeth, "We wolverines are a tenacious bunch!"

At that, she stepped out into the hall. Followed soon by Loucille. Together, the friends made for the edge of town. At the gates, they said their goodbyes, and Loucille watched as one of her dearest friends walked towards whatever fate she had chosen for herself.

[MrWolf12]

Far from the rest of the world, at the end of long roads rarely followed, was a jewel. Set in a crown made of mountains and deep green valleys, this jewel shined as an oasis in a world where poverty and hardships abound. This place, were delights and pleasures are gifted to all, is the town of BonBon. Beauty and life lines every street, filling every building and every soul that lived there. The laughter of males and females of every nationality and species lifted from the cobble stone roads, high into the cool and clean mountain air.

Yet, not all enjoy such a place of hustle and bustle. To some, such crowded streets seem nothing more then an endless sea of noise and cramped faceless bodies. To some, the open air outside of town, among the trees, grasses and hills was much greater a draw. Apart from the sounds of civilization, like the clacking of horse hooves and thumping of carriage wheels, deep within the forests which surrounded the structures of brick and wood, and ran all the way up the roots of the mountains. It was quiet, save for the sounds of nature, of the various critters and creatures that scuttled, ran, and flew.

And that is were one could find him.

************************************************************

The sound of falling water echoed, as it tumbled from the cliff high above into a deep forest pool. The mists surrounding it caught the light of the rising sun as it poured through the open canopy of leaves, shattering into the many colors of the rainbow. The deep, blue pool below rippled and churned, as the waterfall beat upon the rocks at it‘s base. Opposite the curtain of water, the land sloped towards, and into, the glittering surface. Many stones, from tiny pebbles to mighty boulders covered in moss and lichen, spotted the small sandy shore. A gurgling stream also flowed out from the pool, sending the rich cool waters into the trees beyond.

Suddenly, from the center of the water there came a great upheaval, as a large furred form burst forth, sending a spray in all directions. A deep gasp of air, and the form sank back into the water, swimming with long strokes towards the bank. As the bottom rose to meet his feet, the wolverine stepped up onto drier earth. Sparkling in the sun, his wet brown fur lay plastered to his skin, allowing the corded, rippling musculature beneath to show through, a body hard earned by a life that knew little of rest. Pausing, he gave a great shake, sending a shower of water into the air from his coarse coat. Stepping up onto flat area of rock, he dropped the long sharpened stick he had been holding onto the ground, the three fat fish skewered upon it wiggling in vain. He then sat down upon the smoothed stone, looking out on the rippling waters and feeling the warm sun shine upon his body, drying his fur.

It was still early in the morning, and he had spent the better of it working, preparing the greenery and flowers he was to deliver to town. Burlap sacks filled with strong scented herbs, and thick bundles of brightly colored blooms, all were stacked neatly in the bed of Brandon’s rickety two-wheeled cart. Finished with his preparations, the wolverine had decided to take a break and treat himself with a trip to this secret place, relaxing in the cool waters of a forest pool. Refreshing himself for the day to come, as well as catching a few fish for breakfast.

Brandon sighed, knowing the trek into town was close at hand. His enjoyment of this peaceful setting would have to wait for another day.

Lifting himself from the seat of rock, brushing a bit of sand from his fur, the wolverine picked up his trousers from where they laid nearby, as well as the skewered fish, and turned towards the trees. Before he pasted into them, however, something caught his attention. Above the crown of the trees, far off into the distance, a grayish column of smoke rose in a swirl into the air. It seemed like someone was camping in the woods. Not an uncommon thing, yet, for some reason, Brandon made note of it before he began the long walk through the thick underbrush and closely growing trees, following the stream, toward the clearing that was his home.

******************************************************************

A few moments later saw him walking the forest road, padding its twists and turns, his stacked cart squeaking noisily behind him, on his way to BonBon.

******************************************************************

The wolverine breathed hard, as he carefully stepped his way through the maze of ovens, sidestepping stoves and massive mixing bowls, the two large sacks of flour slung over his shoulders making his muscles burn hotter then the air that filled Creamy Donut’s kitchen. At last, he reached the open door of the storage pantry, and within, he carefully lowered the heavy cloth bags to the floor, to sit next to the six others he had brought in earlier. Straightening his back, Brandon rubbed the still aching muscles of his shoulders.

Only having just arrived in town, he never would have guessed that he would find himself under the weight of sack upon sack of baking ingredients. Yet, the pleading look that was laid upon him by the fem rabbit, as he was wheeling his cart into the town limits, was difficult to deny. Oh, well, he thought, as he looked down at the settling white cloth bags, at least those were the last two. He then closed the slim wooden doors, latching shut the pantry. At that moment, through the only other door into the kitchen, bounced the source of Brandon’s most recent task. The white apron about her waist stood out against the caramel color of her fur. Bright strawberry pink hair swirled upon her head in a loose bun, as long droopy ears hung down on either side of her sweet, pretty face. Along with a garter and a pair of stockings, the apron was Creamy’s only clothing, letting her body fur be plainly seen. Minimal clothing was typical of the females in BonBon, and was something Brandon had grown accustomed to, to the point of rarely noticing.

Skipping over to the wolverine, she let shine a sugar sweet smile. “Your finished?” Creamy Donut asked, sounding more then just pleasantly surprised. Brandon nodded in answer. The rabbit let out a relieved sigh. “I can’t thank you enough.” she said. “It would have taken me all day to move those in here.” Then, her tone took on a frustrated edge. “I am gonna give that delivery man a piece of my mind! Leaving such perishables out on the road, not even bothering to help.” She sighed. “What a day for my assistants to take time off.” Turning back to the wolverine, her smile returned. “Thank you so much.”

“Your welcome.” Brandon replied, with a slight bow of his head. He then turned to leave.

“Oh, wait…wait!” Creamy exclaimed, reaching out to grab Brandon’s hand. He looked back at the rabbit girl, whose eyes had taken on a sparkle. “After all that work,” Miss Donut began, a grin spreading her soft lips, “you deserve a reward.” Letting the wolverine’s rough hand slip from her delicate fingers, she took a few steps back. With a mischievous glint in her slightly closed eyes, the bunny reached behind herself….and produced a small bundle wrapped in pink, flower speckled cloth. “Here,“ as she handed it to Brandon, “a sweet treat for a sweetheart. Your favorite.” adding a wink to the end.

Taking the neatly tied package, Brandon picked up the mouthwatering aroma of Creamy Donut’s infamous butter cookies. Indeed they were his favorite, seeing as how he had to control the drool that suddenly began to develop. He thanked the bunny baker, making that sugar frosted smile grow even bigger.

********************************************************************

The large wolverine chimed the bell above the entrance to Creamy Donut’s Bakery, as he stepped out onto the bustling sidewalks of BonBon. Munching on a cookie, he watched a richly decorated carriage, pulled by two white horses, rumble along the cobblestone road. It was joined by others, running this way and that, all as ornate as the last, carrying their well to do passengers to wherever. Trotting among them, were riders on horseback. All this traffic flowed between the tall rising buildings of shops, taverns, and inns of every kind. BonBon lived up to is reputation for catering to any and every need and pleasure. Book stores and cafes rose alongside brothels and casinos. At first arriving to this place, Brandon remembered how overwhelmed he felt. Like a river trout finding himself in the middle of the ocean, he felt drowned in a sea of sights and sounds.

And of People! So many, everywhere he turned their were faces upon faces. It was something he wasn’t used to, and didn’t care for. For many years he had traveled alone, and with only a few exceptions, had kept to himself. And his past had effected how he viewed people, and how he presented himself to others.

And, even now, as he walked over to where his cart stood, he was also aware of the wide berth he was given by those walking past as he stepped out into the streets. Dressed in a simple leather vest, and his usual mud and earth stained pants, he was far removed from the decadent clothing that was so prominent around him. He must have seemed quite the sight to some, by the way they stared and avoided him, as if he may attack them or were somehow diseased. He didn’t care. In a way, he preferred it that way. It gave him his privacy, which he valued more then anything.

But that didn’t mean he was without friends or enjoyed the company of a select few, and, as he placed his treats into the bed of his cart…

“Hey there, hun.” came a gruff but friendly voice. Brandon turned to see quite an imposing form walk up towards him along the sidewalk. A light blue dress fluttering about her thickly muscled legs, Loucille smiled at her dear friend as she approached. “And how are you doing today, cutey?” she asked, with a wink.

“Hurting.” Brandon replied, rolling his arm and shoulder. Loucille’s puzzled look begged him to explain. Afterward, Loucille just shook her head.

“You really need to learn to say no sometimes.” she said with a friendly laugh.

Brandon just nodded, as he rearranged a few of the parcels in his cart. “I just like to help.”

Loucille sighed, watching as the wolverine walked around, between the cart’s arms, lifting them up to his waist. “Mind a little company on your way?”

Brandon looked back, the happy sparkle in his eyes betraying his feelings to the bear before he answered. “If you wish.”

And so they went. The wolverine’s cart squeaking, as its wheels clomped upon the road. They talked about this and that. About the newest arrivals to town, which had been many. A new seller of tobacco caught Brandon’s interest. Another she mentioned was a rude, but cute, little cat that had arrived only a day or so ago. Asking for work, he ended up being carried from the Delight Castle’s casino after causing a ruckus.

“Sounds as if we share something in common.” Brandon commented.

“Well, you both are cute.” Loucille smirked. “But if your talking about that incident a few weeks back, from what I heard, you stopped something from getting out of hand.”

“Perhaps.” The memories of what happened all those weeks ago were still fresh in his mind. Of escorting that large egoed lion from the casino by his nostrils, and of the events that followed. Brandon could still remember the furious look from Dalila as he walked out the doors. “I didn’t think I’d ever be allowed there again.”

“To be honest, that was almost the case.” Loucille began, pulling the wolverines attention. “I spoke to Dalila the next day. She said Princess Betty was pretty angry, saying that she didn’t want someone thinking they had say on who could be there or not.” Brandon felt a wave of icy guilt wash through his gut. Loucille noticed her friend cringe, and was quick to continue. “But she doesn’t know you, hun. All she knows of you is what Dalila told her when they discussed having you supply flowers for the Ball. Dalila filled her in, about you and why you did what you did. It took some doing, but Betty calmed down. Even going as far as keeping your deal for the Ball. As you already know.”

“Yes,” Brandon said, “and I am very grateful for that.”

“So am I.” said the bear, “Just wouldn’t been the same without some of those beautiful roses of yours.” The wolverine turning to see the grin on his friends face.

“Its more then that.” he said, as they both arrived at a crossroads, coming to a halt to allow a carriage to trot past. “I was worried about losing a good friend. Of which I have few.”

Loucille looked at the wolverine, a touch of annoyance painting her face. “Few friends huh?” she asked, “ Then who’s that?” Indicating where she meant with a nod.

Following her gaze, Brandon turned to see, on the other side of the street, a figure standing outside a double floored building. Dressed in the same deep red as the hair upon her head, the female skunk was leading a well dressed gentleman through the open door. Her massage parlor had only been open for a short time, but Brandon knew it had become quite the popular destination. At that moment, the skunk masseur looked up, and, on seeing him, smiled and waved. Lifting his hand , he waved back, before watching her step back inside.

Then, as soon as the door closed, so did a couple walk past that very spot. A male and female feline, both dressed in finery. He in a crisp cut suit and jacket, dark in color to contrast sharply with the white of his fur, she with shocking white hair and black fur, bejeweled in gems of every color. Walking arm in arm, the siblings saw the wave from the wolverine, and returned it with smiles of recognition.

“So, you know those two troublemakers too?” Loucille said, a smug smile gracing her lips when Brandon turned back to her.

“In a way.” Brandon answered, waving back to the feline duo.

“I see you are so short on friends.” her playful sarcasm continuing as their path cleared, allowing them to continue on their way. Around another bend, and they found themselves within view of Brandon’s next stop. In front of The Outback Omnibus bookstore, a stand was set up. Upon it, were row upon row of flowers of every color and kind. Standing in front of that, waving at the two approaching friends, a feline girl. Dressed in green, with ribbons tying back her long auburn hair, the calico ran up to them, her equally green eyes sparkling.

“Good day, Brandon.” greeted Alice, as the two made their way up to where she had her stand, “and to you too, Loucille.” the cat added.

“Afternoon, deary.” Loucille said, as Brandon began lifting the several burlap wrapped bundles of freshly cut flowers from the bed of his cart, handing them to the feline girl, who began fawning over every bloom as they were uncovered. One by one, the flowers were set upon her stand. Daises and carnations, lilies and lupins. And roses, dozens of roses. And, as one particular bundle was unfurled. “Ah, I knew it.”

Brandon gave Loucille a puzzled look, as Alice was busy arranging.

“I knew those blue roses had to have come from your garden.” Loucille stated, pointing at the sapphire hued blooms now being placed by the flower girl. “The girls were just going on and on about the blue roses given to Alexia. They just had to have been grown by you, they were just as gorgeous as those.”

“I am glad they were enjoyed.” said Brandon, as he continued to unload his cart. Though he had no idea what or who she was talking about.

“Oh, they were…as was the giver.” giggled the fem bear.

With the last of the wrapped flowers now having found their place upon Alice’s stand, and a few coins placed in his hand, Brandon said his goodbyes to the feline girl, and with Loucille at his side, made his way back down the street, the friends continuing their conversation.

A few moments later….

“I should be getting back.” spoke Loucille as they both paused in front of the home of Sibilla La Noire, “I promised one of the girls I’d meet her at the café. It was good to catch up with you, hun. You should come to town more often.” She smiled.

“I enjoyed it too.” answered the wolverine, as he walked around his cart to where Loucille stood. Reaching into the bed, he removed a few bunches of herbs, destined for Ms. La Noire’s shelves. Underneath them, he lifted a lone bouquet of bright colored flowers.

“Oh, looks like we forgot one.” Loucille said.

“No, its not been forgotten.” said the wolverine, handing them to the bear.

“Oh sweety!” gasped Loucille, as she lifted the bouquet to her nose, breathing deep of their sweet scent. Suddenly, she reached out and engulfed Brandon in her powerful arms. “Thank you!” she repeated several times, as her bear hug crushed the wolverine. Just as the last of the air in his lungs was forced out, she let him loose, allowing him a deep filling gasp!

“Oops…sorry.” She blushed.

****************************************************************************

The sun had begun the last leg of its journey through the cloudless sky, by the time Brandon found himself once more traveling the forest road. Behind him, his cart jiggled as its wheels hit rock and pits in the road. Gone where the many bundles of greenery and flowers. In their place, a few small sacks containing flour and salt, a small wedge of cheese, a bottle of lamp oil, candles, and some assorted vegetables. A breeze had begun to cool the air, as it rippled though the leaves and boughs above him. A few shafts of the fading sun still dappled the path, highlighting the wisps of dust pulled up by the forest wind.

Yet, as he took each bend in the road, his mind was elsewhere. Since leaving town all that he could think about was the visit with Sibilla. For the last several days, her demeanor seemed…strange. From the moment he arrived until their business was finished, she would ask how he was. Over and over, she seemed obsessed with making sure he was alright. Though they had been friends for as long as the wolverine had been in BonBon, as they both shared a deep sense of the spiritual; never had she been this worried for his well being. Whenever he tried to ask why she seemed so on edge, the skunk would only change the subject, touching a stack of cards upon a nearby table.

Brandon shook his head. He would have to try to find out on his next visit. Right now, he needed to get his supplies and himself home. As if to support that decision, his stomach gave a growling gurgle. The package of cookies from Miss Donut was now half gone, and he was looking forward to making a nice stew when he got home.

Then, he stopped.

Something caught his eye.

Just up ahead, among the bushes along the side of the road, he saw something flutter, bright within the growing dark. Squeaking his cart closer, he dropped the arms carefully to the ground. A few steps took him off the path, into the bushes that grew beneath the tall trees. Reaching through the tangle of branches, he withdrew a strip of cloth. It was a light blue color, the material soft and fine. Most likely from a dress. Yet, who would be out here? Those that traveled to and from town most often go by carriage. Looking around, he saw a trail of broken twigs marking where someone pushed their way through the underbrush, into the woods beyond.

Something about this made his gut twist. Bringing the strip of cloth to his nose…female. A tang of sweat and…his eyes widened…blood!

At that he was off, racing through the brush! His nose keeping pace with his feet, as they pounded the dirt beneath them. The light around him was growing fainter, both from the waning day and the thickening of the canopy above him. Deeper he ran, dodging trees left and right, following the erratic trail. His face swiped, scratched by low reaching branches. A pair of squirrels scurried out of sight as he raced past. His nose twitched, the scent getting stronger. He turned, following the trail and the smell. Leaping over a mound of fallen leaves…

…and catching himself just before falling down a steep dropoff!

With sharp claws dug into the bark of a nearby tree, Brandon pulled himself back, away from a slide down a leaf slick slope. Finding his feet again, he gazed down, and saw something that put a lump in his throat. About half way down the incline, laying against the high side of a large stone, was a prone form, partially covered in leaf litter. What could be seen was the same light blue as the tatter he had found. Wasting little time, Brandon scanned around, looking for a path to take down. Then, letting go where his claws had him anchored, he pushed off, taking a few careful steps to where another tree gave his talons a place to purchase. And, with a pause once or twice to judge his next move, he made his way down the slope. Until, eventually, he was poised over the motionless form among the leaves. Kneeling, he careful slipped his hand around the small body.

Small?

Gently, he turned and lifted, and felt his throat choke at the face of a young little rabbit girl. He laid her gently back onto the soft earth. She couldn’t have been more the ten years old. Fur of dark gray covered her face, and the long ears that drooped to either side. Between them, the darker locks of hair were a tangle of twigs and burrs. Her face was criss crossed with thin shallow scratches. The dress she wore was torn and ratted, shredded by her hurried run through the thick undergrowth.

And why was she running?

Brandon chided himself. This was not the time to figure that out. Leaning down he put his ear to her tiny chest. He sighed in relief…a heartbeat.

That’s when a small hand touched his face.

He looked up, and saw two brown eyes creaking open.

“It…hurts.” came a soft whisper, as tears began to fall from those barely open eyes.

The wolverine placed his big hand upon her forehead, gently. “You’ll be alright.” his voice light. “Shhh.”

“…help…” was all she got out, before her eyes closed, slipping back into unconsciousness.

Petting her cheek once more, Brandon stood up, pulling off the leather vest her wore, and, ever so carefully wrapped it around the small bunny girl. It wasn’t much, but it would be enough to stave off the coming chill the signaled the setting of the sun. Then slowly, as if handling the most delicate of flower’s, he lifted her into the crook of his right arm, cradling her head into his neck. This left his other hand free, and he was going to need it, as he turned and looked up at the steep climb before him.

He felt her breath ruffle the fur of his chest as she gave a soft but pain soaked whimper.

That sound seemed to send a surge of strength into Brandon’s limbs, and, with a growl, he made quick the return climb, leaping from rock to tree, ledge to root, all the while keeping his precious bundle close and safe.

***********************************************

“Oww..” she squeaked, as she slowly awakened. She hurt, all over. Her face stung from many scratches, her body bruised, from her tumble down that hill…running through all those bushes…

…running….away from…

She gasped, sitting up from where she lay! Her eyes scanned about her, scared to see whether they had…but she wasn’t in the woods anymore.

Where was she?

Looking about, her attention was first drawn to the fire crackling in a large stone mantle that rose from the very center of what seemed to her to be a large open house. An iron pot steamed from where it hung from a metal arm just above the licking flames. Where she lay, upon what felt like a pile of straw covered by woolen blankets, was tucked into the corner where two of the outer walls met. One, the length of which she lay along, seemed to be the front, with a door set into it, and a shuttered window just to its side. The flaming mantle also faced this wall, its light dancing upon the massive logs that this house seemed built from. The light also showed the several items hanging near the door. What looked like a leather satchel, with a strap of braided leather cord, hung from a nail. Next to that was something that brought a shiver to the girls spine. A large glistening blade stuck out from where it had been driven into the wall itself. Its edge looked dinged and chipped, but still seemed very sharp.

Suddenly, something moved. The girl pulled the blanket up to her chin, as something big stepped from the dark, beyond the reach of the firelight.

“Stay away!” she yelled, trying to get up. “Owww!” she cried, as a sharp pain in her leg dropped her back onto the cushion of straw.

“Careful.” came a deep voice.

Looking up, the girl watched a tall male step before the fire. In her eyes, he was huge! She had never seen his kind before. His fur looked spiky, rough. All he wore were some dirty looking trousers and a stitched together leather vest. He knelt in front of the fire, and the shadows were chased from his face. He had tall fuzzy ears topping his head, with nicks taken out of their edges. His face was dark furred, and looked as rough and scruffy as the rest of him. She watched as he took the pot from the fire, tipping it to pour the steaming liquid from it into a small cup. He then stood again, before taking a few steps towards her.

She scooted back, fear still staining her eyes. “Who are you?!”

“My name is Brandon, I’m a friend.” he said, dropping to his knees next to her. “You took a nasty fall. You need to heal.“

Even kneeling as he was, she still had to crane her neck up to look at his face. That when she saw his eyes. In the flickering orange light, they looked like the golden spheres she once saw in the window of a jewelers. They seemed so warm…so…friendly. She felt her fear just melting away. So, when he lifted the cup to her, she had no hesitation in taking it.

“Drink.” came that deep voice again, but now she noticed how soft it also was, “It will help you feel better.”

She looked down at the dark fluid that filled the cup. She could see little bits of…something…floating just under the surface. Bringing it to her nose, she sniffed. It smelled…good. Like flowers. Looking up at those gentle eyes again, she saw him nod. She returned it, and, slowly, brought the cup to her lips. She tipped it, wincing as the drink touched her tongue, expecting it to taste awful. She perked up, as the flavor that filled her mouth was that of fruit and honey. It was delicious! And not as hot as she thought, it was pleasantly warm. She took a heartier gulp!

“Easy.” cautioned Brandon, putting one of his massive hands on hers to lower the cup. ”Just a little at a time.”

She nodded, letting the mouthful she had go down. She noticed how warm she was starting to feel, the pains that had been all over were fading. “Thank you.”

He didn’t respond, and his face stayed fixed in a neutral expression, but those friendly eyes helped the young girl relax, as did the drink she continued to sip.

When the cup was nearly empty, he asked, “What’s your name?”

The girl looked up from her cup, “Jeanni.” she answered with a smile.

“Now tell me, Jeanni” he said, “why were you out this far from town, and by yourself?”

The girl finished the last of the drink, “Oh I wasn’t alone, I was with…” A saddened realization, and horror, shot open the bunny girls eyes. “Oh No! Allie!!! They’re still after her!!” She dropped the empty cup, again trying to stand, but was held down gently by Brandon’s powerful hands.

“Calm down.” he said, “Calm down.” he repeated. Slowly, the girl relaxed, settling back done upon the mat. “Now tell me, what happened?”

Tears began to well in the young rabbit’s eyes, “We were walking through the forest, trying to make it to the next town before it got dark, when…when…” her voice was breaking, wiping tears from her cheek.

“Please, Jeanni,“ Brandon asked, his voice as soft as he could make it, “I need to know.”

The rabbit sniffled, before continuing, “These men came after us. I don’t know where they came from. They just started chasing us! We were…running…trying to get to the next town. Then, Allie stopped me, and pushed me off the road. She told me to run, and don’t stop. I didn’t want to leave her….” in between the sobs, Jeanni yawned, “…but she yelled at me, and…I was so scared! I…just…ran.” Brandon reached out to pet the young girl’s head. Instead, she latched onto his arm, hugging it tight as she looked up at him. Her eyes were rimmed red, the fur beneath them soaked in tears. “You have to find her! She’s my sister…please…” She yawned again, her grip loosening, and her eyes started to close. “Please…please…” her voice trailed off, as she gently fell into a calming sleep.

Brandon lowered her to the straw mat, glad to see the herbs he added to the tea were having their effect. She needed to rest, especially after what he learned she’d been through. The tea would also help her heal. Pulling the blanket up, he covered the girl to her chin, before stroking the fur of her forehead.

He then stood, and, quietly, let himself out the door, closing it behind him.

It was just past dusk, the only sun left was a reddish orange streak along the horizon, alighting the far mountain tops. And there, rising from the distant treetops, that same column of smoke curled into the sky.

The kind eyes seen by the young rabbit faded, replaced by ones filled with stern certainty. As well as a touch of anger.

The path before him seemed clear.

Anyone that would do something so cruel to ones so young…

As the wolverine took off into the trees, towards the base of that gray swirling pillar, the blade seen by those young eyes was gripped tightly in his hand.

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‘Where the hell did you bastards go?!’, the doe cursed!

It had been awhile since she’d last heard them tromping around her, the cat calls and vulgarities whispered into her ear with rank, alcohol soaked breath had also ceased. Actually, she realized, it had been awhile since she’d heard anything at all, save for the sound of the crackling fire, who’s light was blocked by the blindfold wrapped about her eyes. Its warmth, however, she could feel heating her one side, as she leaned back against the tree around which her arms were tied.

Were they gone?…asleep?…passed out drunk?

Again the doe tried the bindings at her wrists. No luck. The rope was much too tight. All she managed to do was force the rough bark of the tree into her back, pressing points of dull pain even through the leather of her jerkin. Giving up, she settled back onto the ground, a stream of curses pouring from between her grinding teeth.

They had gotten lucky. The two from the path had only chased her a few strides into the trees, when she had turned to face them, a large stick in her hands. If that third…sahte!… hadn’t snuck up and clubbed her from behind, she would have given them all a few scars to remember! As if to drive home the memory, the lump on the back of her head throbbed, making her wince.

The doe sighed, as her thoughts turned to worries….worries for a young little rabbit.

Jeanni, the doe whispered, praying that the precious girl was alright. Memories of seeing that blue dress disappearing into the dark underbrush returned. The doe’s plan of getting all their attention on her seemed to have worked, after screaming out every insult she knew at the approaching men, and making sure they saw her dive into the trees. They seemed to have forgotten about the little one, as they crashed through brush and limb in their chase of the doe. Still, she worried. What would one so young do, lost in these accursed woods? She wouldn’t know how to get back to the road, and with what the doe had heard of the nearby town, what would happen to such a young girl there?!

Tears wet the cloth covering her eyes….

…when a hand suddenly covered her mouth!

She struggled, shaking her head, yet couldn’t dislodge the big hand muffling her yells.

“Quiet.” came a whispered voice behind her. “I’m going to help you.”

She settled, panting. This voice was male, yet didn’t belong to any of those that had taken her. She knew them very well from their taunting.

He spoke again.

“They are not here, but may return soon.”

She nodded, understanding what was implied. And, as the hand lifted away from her face, she kept her own voice at a whisper. “Who are you?”

“A friend.” was his simple reply, as she felt the blindfold loosen, and finally fall away. She squinted in the firelight until her eyes adjusted from being in total darkness. Before her was a small camp. A fire crackled in the center, surrounded by lain out blankets. Pots and pans sat next to the flames, as an empty spit stretched over the coals.

“Go straight the way you are facing.” the voice spoke, as she flinched at the touch of cold metal against her wrists, “You will come out at the road. I will meet you there.” and with a flick, the cold metal blade slid easily through her bindings. The doe quickly stood, rubbing her sore wrists as she turned to see……no one.

Whoever had helped her was gone.

However, she didn’t stay around to figure things out. She was free, and planned to stay that way. Off she ran, her slim, powerful legs bounding her into the air with every pace. Following the direction given to her, she soon found herself upon the very same dirt road she and Jeanni had once been walking.

Jeanni…

The brush nearby rustled at that very moment. The doe turned, hoping to see a little gray furred face. Instead, her eyes widened at the tall, broad form that stepped upon the road. Dark fur made him almost a shadow in the night, all but for the glowing dots of his eyes, and the glint of a long knife at his waist.

“I take it I have you to thank for my freedom.” the doe stated, her words even, as trust from her was not something easily won.

Brandon nodded, then turned to point down the road behind him. “That way will take you to BonBon. There you can find help and anything else you need. In the morning I will bring….”

“I’m not going anywhere.” cut in the doe, worry sneaking into her voice. “I was with someone, a little girl, a rabbit.“ turning her head around, looking along the sides of the road, hoping to see…something…anything…“She’s out here somewhere, I have to…”

“Jeanni’s safe.”

The doe’s face whipped towards the wolverine, the long braided locks of her dark hair whirling. “What?!? You know where she is?!”

“Yes. I found her earlier. She is resting at my home. As I was going to say…I will bring her to town in the morning.”

“Well, I’ll save you the trip and you can take me to her now.” commanded the doe, now standing right before the towering male, hands on her hips, a defiant look on her face.

Brandon looked down at that face, one that said that any arguing at this point would be useless. It was a look he knew well. Many of ladies in BonBon wore it quite often.

With a sigh, the wolverine took several steps past the doe, towards the edge of the woods, before motioning for her to follow.

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