The Furry Way of Life
“You’ve got to be kidding me, right?” Vela walked alongside Fian. “You didn’t actually do that, did you?” Fian glanced at her sideways. “I don’t follow, what exactly did I do? The nice badger lady just wanted to say thanks… I certainly didn’t plan for us to run into her right now.” Vela snorted in … Read more
The autumn morning passed in a relaxed fashion. Fian and Vela spent most of it getting the garden back in order and stacking all the shattered wood. Standing in front of the woodpile by his hut, Fian whistled softly through his teeth. “What is it?” Vela asked, stepping up beside him. “Well…” Fian began, “I’ve … Read more
The first light of the sun woke Fian. He stretched out comfortably in his bed, savoring for a moment the warm light streaming in through the window. Yes, the last few weeks had been strange, in a way. Or had it been months? He couldn’t quite recall… In the end, he decided it must have … Read more
Dear chroniclers, There are stories that seem, at first glance, like casual chatter over a garden fence. Only when you lay the sacred texts of the wolves beside them does the shattering depth of what transpired reveal itself. Consider the arrival of Fresco. Who is this old grey wolf, truly? His voice sounds like grinding … Read more
Dear travelers, There is a curious thing about stories … Sometimes they do not change because a new chapter adds an answer. Sometimes they change because a new chapter asks the same question a second time. And yes, you may focus on the collar. Or you may be more interested in the tavern … Some … Read more
Dusk was falling. Fian stepped through the door of his small hut and undid the straps of his basket. Holding it before him, he caught the scent of the fresh herbs once more. He loved that earthy aroma—hints of forest floor, wild chervil, sorrel, woodland mushrooms, and fresh herbs. Yes, he knew he was late—far … Read more
In the taproom of “The Old Paw,” the warm glow of the hearth cuts through a thick haze of pipe-weed, roasted venison, and spilled mead. Near the crackling fire, three bards sit huddled together. Patrons accompany their songs, thumping their tankards against the wooden tables in time to the rhythm, or simply listening to the … Read more
The bucket of spring water sloshed softly as Fian set it down on the wooden decking in front of the hut. His lower lip was split, his left eye was a swollen mass of blue and violet, and every rib burned with each breath. He crept slowly through the doorway to clean up his worst … Read more
Worthy travelers—have you come this far just to find out what happened after the forest lake? Well, who am I to deny such a desire to learn more of this tale? Take a mug of hot tea or meat and sit down; stay a while and listen… There is so much to tell, and my … Read more
He sat by the forest lake … and self-consciously plucked softly at his lute, while she, paws clasped behind her head, lay comfortably on her back with her eyes closed, visibly enjoying the early autumn sunbeams. He looked at her as she lay there, stretched out. After a while, she spoke softly: “I can hear … Read more