Len Gilbert - The Furred Reich

“We are in clear danger,” the conductor called out into the otherwise peaceful tropical morning. “To escape to safety behind the mountains, speed is the key. I intend to stop only once a day, for one hour. You’ll have to eat, buy supplies, and even bathe during that time. If we can do this, I believe we can reach Preena Pass in just two weeks. Our journey won’t be a comfortable one, but it is one way I can guarantee your safety. Does anyone have any objections?”

Aside from crying babies the crowd was silent. All of them were going to the same place for the same reason. All of them understood the urgency. And that was that, it seemed.

The next few days gave Asril some sense of inner peace. There wasn’t much food available, but it was enough to get by. Within the group, everyone soon knew what everyone else was doing. What was the use in stealing when everyone is looking out for one another? Or maybe it was that she’d be caught so easily if she tried to steal.

“What will you do when we get through?”

Tanjung’s voice woke Asril up as she was curled up on the floor. She stirred and sat up, knees hugging her chest.

“I don’t know. Whatever there is…” She yawned out. “What about you?”

“I’m sick of running. I wanted to fight but my family sent me out against my will. Once we get behind the mountains I’m gonna help keep the monsters on the other side.”

Tanjung sighed as he looked at the ground. “It’s kinda embarrassing. I wanted to fight but my parents said I was too young. I understand how a girl like you would be sent away, but—”

“My… family didn’t send me out when the monsters came. I got disowned a year ago.”

Her secret blurted itself out with surprising ease.

“What? Why?”

“Because I steal stuff.” She looked away from him.

“…Oh.”

“Well, I don’t believe in pity. Things happen and you have to play that hand you’ve got.”

“I’m glad. I hate getting furres’ pity,” she managed a smile.

“Just don’t tell Clara, alright?”

Tanjung nodded. “I won’t.”

Days rolled by and the altitude grew. The underbrush and canopy thinned away and the air once again lost its mugginess. A wall of pointed rock greeted them in the distance. It was their destination. Even the green beasts would have a tough time getting over those rocks, much less passing through the sweltering jungles. After almost a month of running, Asril was finally safe.

According the the drivers, Preena was the first town on the other side and it was there that everyone’s new life would start. Asril decided that she would stay with Tanjung and, hopefully stay in one of the groups for awhile. The convoy rolled on to its last stop, a fort planted on a narrow, winding dirt intersection in a gauntlet of mountains.

“The lord of this land has closed the border to all but natives of this land and to our own kind.”

Two staunch, orange-and-black tigers said to the convoy’s conductors, both of the latter were tigers of the wrong stripe to enter.

“No, no, no. We have a passport here, and permission for this convoy to enter. The passengers are refugees.” The driver furnished the edict.

“We’ve done this a few times in the past weeks, you know…”

“The pass is now closed. Turn around or else.”

The patchwork throng of fleers stood around bewildered. It took only minutes for the news to spread. Asril and the group then stepped out into the thin air. She didn’t see much before it happened, and only knew that the conductors refused to turn back and demanded the complication be sorted out. Babies were wailing all around.

Asril didn’t see how the violence started, but the angry shouts and sharp screams of adult males drowned out the children’s crying. Many in the desperate crowd were now charging the front and getting mercilessly cut down by whoever was guarding it.

Asril had developed a kind of sixth sense for the outcome of violent fights. The street-smart thief grabbed hold of Tanjung’s arm and pulled.

“Come on! We gotta run if we wanna live!”

“Hey. Human. Get up.”

Hans’ head was still pounding. How did he get here? He remembered being placed in a cart by the meerkats the other day while he was hung over, but remembered little else.

Crumpled up over a sack of grain, Hans looked up at the source of the voice; a sleek, black, canine-looking “furry.” In his own world, Hans knew only of dogs and wolves. This one was neither. The wagon had come to a stop, and the faint smell of silty dry soil was the only hint of a location.

Hans rolled onto his feet, trying to ignore his upset stomach as the canine looked him over.

“Your master has a strange sense of fashion…” He mused at Hans, then stepped out onto burnt orange sand.

“Excuse me. Uh. Have you… seen a black airship in the sky?”

The black canine turned around to face the sleepy German. “No. But I heard that it flew low over Deltia.”

“Is this place Deltia?”

The canine looked at Hans as if he had been dropped out of the sky.

“…No, human. This is Urkan. Deltia is to the north of here along the river.” The furre then turned around and walked off without another word, leaving Hans to fend for himself, gear and all. Hans groaned and picked up his items, then stepped out onto the sand.

“Engh.”

The sun hit his eyes like a searchlight. He winced and covered his brow as he shuffled slowly into the crowd, able to take only baby steps.

Urkan felt like a bazaar. Stone-lain streets criss-crossed into the distance and bustled with carts both horse drawn and hand pushed. Chatter and whinnying of horses surrounded him on every side. Hans scanned the inhabitants. They too were canine, but didn’t much look like the man from the wagon. Instead, the natives of Urkan looked more like a mix between the canine’s species and a type of hyena. The women were not very attractive; nothing like Amalija, that was for sure.

The sudden heat and light made his head swim and his stomach want throw up again. Still hungover, he dawdled over to the nearest Bazaar, and turned down a narrow alleyway where brick and sand apartments faced off. Hans dropped his gear by a door and sat down, head leaning against the wall. Just as he closed his eyes a young canine opened the door and looked at Hans. He turned to the animal with eyes half shut and raised a hand, waving to him, then turned away. Once the boy went back inside Hans closed his eyes.

His growling stomach woke him up. He looked out of that narrow alley. The scorching daylight was fast approaching. He reached for his mess tin, which he found had no food, but it did jingle. Inside were some shiny, minted coins stacked from bottom to top. He smiled. The meerkats of Oasis must have really liked him. Hans got up to his feet, feeling a little better, and followed his nose to a nearby alley to buy some skewered meat from a stand. If he had to guess, it was lamb. Not too bad.

“Hey um, have you seen a black airship fly by lately?”

“Black airship?” the vendor scowled. “What you talkin’ about?”

The furry indeed had no idea what Hans was talking about. He returned to where the convoy had dropped him off, in search of another one that continued northward, but after thirty minutes of waiting he noticed the only caravans here were coming from and going to the place he had come from. Confused and with no idea where to start, Hans made his way to the nearby river. A medley of boats streamed along the river as the soldier stood watching them. Perhaps flotillas were the preferred method of travel here.

With a little help, Hans finally found the dockyards. He asked around and found a northbound raft manned by another of the black canine species. The same race as the man Hans had talked to earlier. In exchange for free transport, Hans offered to help row the craft northward. They agreed and soon took off. It was a strange relief to be on the move again.