The Furry Way of Life
The Rustic Breakfast A rustic flatbread made without yeast, baked in a glowing cast-iron skillet. Badgers are impatient fellows with surly dispositions. They have neither the patience nor the leisure to wait for yeast dough to rise in the warmth. They want their bread quick, nutritious, and dense—spread with a cool, sharp herb quark that … Read more
It was morning. Fian woke up in his bed, and somehow, it was the first time he had truly slept. He had only a hazy recollection of the previous afternoon’s events—sitting beside her as the world around him slowly darkened in the rain. Now, as his mind began to stir, he started to wonder. Why … Read more
Hello, travelers on the roads all around the Mistwood Forest … You came so far, and finally, you found this message. I have never expected that someone would read the story up do this moment; therefore, I will now give you a very interesting hint: If you now start reading backwards one after another, until … Read more
Worthy travelers, you have surely wondered when I would finally tell you something about the wolves. Well then, I think your curiosity deserves to be rewarded a little. The wolves dwell at the foot of—and high within—the mountains beyond the Mist Forests. This is their land. Anyone wandering those ancient paths should do so with … Read more
It was late afternoon when a dull, rumbling sound shook the ground beneath Fian’s paws. Moments later, the panicked cries of forest creatures pierced the thicket—a landslide. One of the old slate caves at the edge of the moor—its entrance held together by wet roots and rotting wood—had collapsed under the weight of rain and … Read more
Fian sat on the weathered tree stump not far from the tavern, staring at the intricate, winding carvings of his old willow-wood lute. The chill of the moor mists crept slowly but inexorably through his clothes, yet he barely felt it. His head felt like an overcrowded beehive. There were exactly two weeks left until … Read more
It was a beautiful morning when he stepped out of the tavern. Fian closed his eyes and took a deep breath through his nose. The mist of the moor filled his senses—fresh moss, dew on the leaves, and… He looked up and glanced around. “Not again… she really needs a hobby!” he thought, looking about … Read more
She left him behind with the bleeding wound on his leg and didn’t look back. How could anyone be so stubborn? All he had to do was strum three bored chords to proove that he belonged to me. Just something—but no, he answered with the stoic calm of prey, accepting his role and the fact … Read more
It was dark when I reached my hut deep in the forest. Well, not quite, actually, because the moon was shining through the window I was looking out of. Past, future, the moon can tell you everything as it brightly traces its path across the firmament. But today was different. Yes, the bard’s evening was lovely, … Read more
Fian finished his final chord and announced a break. He bowed respectfully to his audience and walked over to the bar counter. His throat was parched from the long ballad about the “Echo of the Night,” so he ordered a mug of pine mead. As the mug sat before him, he looked into it thoughtfully … Read more