Two young creatures find themselves unexpectedly working together to try and end a drought that threatens both their villages.

Today’s story is the first of two parts of “Come the Storm” by Tony Greyfox, a long-time author in the furry fandom whose work has appeared in anthologies such as The Furry Future and Inhuman Acts, as well as in the newly released A Swordmaster’s Tale from Armoured Fox Press, available on Amazon. This story was a runner-up in the 2014 Rainfurrest writing competition and appeared in the next year’s charity anthology. 

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You're listening to The Voice of Dog.

I'm Kaki, your faithful fireside companion.

And today's story is the first of two parts of Come the Storm

by Tony Greyfox,

who has been writing furry fiction for longer than he likes to admit.

This story was a runner-up in the Rain First yearly writing contest 2014

and appeared in the next year's charity anthology.

Tony's work has also been featured in anthologies

like Inhuman Acts

and the Furry Future,

Heat Magazine and others.

You can find more of his stories on SoFurry.

Please enjoy. Come the Storm

by Tony Greyfox.

Crunch, crunch, crunch.

The sound was incessant,

inescapable. With each footfall it came.

Sometimes it was accompanied by a puff of dust

that rose and spread and drifted to the earth like a dirty brown flower

blooming and falling back to seed.

Crunch, crunch, crunch.

It sounded to Talia's mind

like bones. Bones broken,

shattered, chewed.

Intellectually she knew it was nothing more than dry grass crunching under her hooves,

and it clawed and bit at her imagination like,

well, like a predator.

She sighed, shifting her burden in its sling across her slim back,

and continued on.

Ahead, the sea of dry grass

spread into the distance across undulating hills,

eventually lapping up against a shoreline of

dull green, the oak-bent forest

that sprawled across foothills

and up the slopes of the mountain range marking the southern border

of Oak Valley. Talia had been walking for a day,

and that forest still seemed as far away

as when she had left the village.

And with each step,

each crunch of bone-dry grass, each puff of dust

settling into her fur,

the weight of her pack grew.

The deer paused as a wisp of cloud provided momentary respite

from the high summer sun above.

She considered a sip of water,

but decided against it.

The streams between the village

and oak-bent were likely dry.

Like everything else,

she scuffed a hoof through the dust

and carried on. It had been many years since the grass had gone this dry, but the elders remembered what had happened before.

Stories passed down from generation to generation

about the long summers

and the suffering that had followed,

famine and death

through the cold winters that invariably came on the heels of the heat.

According to the ancient doe who led the village,

this was the first long summer in many years

and the worst in memory.

Without the rains,

there would be no harvest,

no food for the winter.

And there was only one way

to bring the rains.

Talia's parents had been thrilled at her selection

from the youth of the village.

Tall, lye-the, strong, a powerful runner.

She was an ideal choice, the elder had said.

What had been packed?

Oats, bread, herbs, spices, and wrapped carefully into the bundle Talia carried on her back.

The entire village had seen her off.

The elder had walked her out the gate

in the old stone wall.

Go south, south to the oak

-bent forest, she had been told.

And when I get there, she had asked,

I do not know, the histories do not say,

but you will find out,

and we will be saved.

How the ancestors have said.

And so Talia walked

amid the crunch of dry grass and the scent of dry dirt

and the heat of the blazing sun above.

A breeze riffled through the grass,

a whisper amid the crackling.

Talia lifted her muzzle and sniffed.

Her ears perked, and she turned aside,

breaking into a ground-eating trot,

nose-raised. In a fold of ground partly hidden from the sun's heat,

she found a small patch of light green.

It smelled of spring

and moisture and slicked her thirst as she bit off mouthfuls,

chewing slowly to savor the taste.

Something thumps nearby. Talia's

ears shot upright,

and she leaped out of the hollow in one powerful bound.

Her head swivelled,

eyes scanning the grass,

coming to rest on a dark mass,

huddled some twenty strides away.

It stood slowly, dusting off,

scowling at a rock previously hidden in the grass but now visible amid the broken stalks.

"'Stupid rocks!' the bulbcat muttered,

adjusting his light tunic.

A short sword dangling from his belt caught in his feet for a moment,

and he nearly tripped again

before recovering his composure.

His head swiveled,

feline eyes locked with servine eyes,

and both creatures froze.

Talia broke the silence first,

every muscle tented to bolt.

"'Who are you?' she called warily.

"'Um, my name is Christon.

I'm from Shortcliff over there,'

the young cat pointed back toward the barely visible bluffs far in the distance.

Talia had heard the name before,

but the villagers were far enough apart to prevent much direct contact.

"'Who are you?' Talia

of Green Downs. She edged closer to the feline,

still ready to bolt,

and with one hoof ready near the short, sharp knife

belted under waist.

"'Do you follow the Pact?'

"'Of course,' his reply was indignant.

"'We were a civilized village,

Shortcliff razes and trades pigs and sheep.

Our elders agreed to the Pact-4 generation to go.'

The dear relaxed,

straightening. "'I apologize for causing a fence,

but being here so far from others,

caution is paramount.

"'Dear are always curious in my experience,'

Christon stepped forward, sniffing at the air.

"'I cented water. Why, I come closer.'

"'It's not much water,

and you'll have to chew grass to get it,

but you're welcome to share.'

"'Uros,' his face crinkled at her description,

but he still made his way into the hollow.

"'Well, I do what I must.

The only running water I'm aware of is still days away.'

They all watched in interest

as the feline neatly clipped off stalks of grass near the ground

with sharp claws.

"'Where are you bound, if I may ask?' she inquired,

squatting on her eyes and smoothing her short skirt.

"'Outbend forest.'

"'Her surprise was obvious.

Christon looked up,

head tilted. "'Is something wrong?'

"'Oh, no, just... "'I'm going to outbend as well.' Christon

stepped carefully back into the hollow

and took another mouthful of grass.

"'It just seems odd that we would cross paths and be going to the same place.'

Christon shrugged.

"'Our elders believe that we can be saved from the hot summer by

sending a tribute to Urosbend.

I was chosen as our representative.'

He turned slightly

to display the pack slung over his back.

Now that was too much of a coincidence, Talia thought.

"'Our elders have the same legend.

I am making the same journey.'

"'Really?' he blinked.

"'That is odd.' "'Indeed.'

The two young creatures stared at each other for a long moment.

"'Perhaps we could

travel together?' Christon suggested,

cautiously. After all,

two can travel more safely.

safely." Talia deliberated a moment.

Christon was not exactly the protective type.

He was some inches shorter than she,

but he was a feline.

His claws would be beneficial should anything threaten them, that she could not outrun at least.

And if he lived by the pack,

well, she would likely be safe with him.

She nodded. "'Two together can pick out water and safe routes better than one.

I agree.' "'Good,' he smiled,

a lopsided grin that Talia realized was shaped to keep sharp teeth hidden.

To be honest, I was feeling rather alone out here.'

"'I know your meaning.'

Talia took one last bite of grass and stood.

"'I'm used to being around the rest of our youth around much of the time,'

she grimaced. Some noisy.

The quiet has been almost

peaceful, except this constant crunching.

crunching." Christon followed the doe out of the hollow.

The two pointed their noses south,

towards the green of the forest once again.

"'You are lucky, Talia.

My cousins and our other youth are all much younger than I.'

"'You look strong and fast, though,'

she grinned. "'Shall we see whether you can keep up with a deer?'

"'Is that a challenge?

I think I would be capable enough.'

"'Then come, Christon of Shortcliff.

See if you are up to my pace.'

With that, Talia leaped into the grass

in a quick trot that drove her forward amid the swish and crunch.

She threw herself into the run,

enjoying the sensation of the wind

blowing across her perked ears,

the feel of the ground passing by.

Another crunching caught her attention,

and she looked to one side.

Christon grinned, the bobcat loping easily on all fours,

tufted ears raising

and ruffling in the wind.

"'Perhaps deer should ask if they are up to a cat's pace.'

"'Hey,' she shouted as the feline moved ahead.

With a wide grin

she set off in pursuit.

Trading the lead back and forth,

the two young creatures

covered plenty of ground before twilight settled

across the rolling grasslands.

A surprising amount, in fact.

Talia looked ahead at the forests,

which had grown significantly closer in the few hours

they had trotted along with one another. "'I think

if we can travel at that kind of speed

we may reach the forests in two more days,'

the doe said, settling the pack containing her tribute carefully down.

"'What do you think?'

Christon grunted in response.

Talia looked at the bobcat,

who had collapsed on his back to pant.

"'I think deer have far more endurance than we cats.'

"'Perhaps three days, then,'

she giggled, as Christon rolled over to sprawl on his stomach in the grass.

She opened her food

-pack and drew some items out.

"'Can I offer you some trail-bread?

It has little flavour, but it's very nourishing.

nourishing.' "'Ah, thank you,

but no,' he eyed the bread warily.

"'I have my own trail-food.

It's dried--well,' she caught the scent and shuddered.

"'Meat.' "'Only had raised sheep,'

the cat clarified quickly,

"'and some fish the last of our stock from last spring's fishing.'

"'I understand,' she said suitably.

"'But, well, I will sit over here.'

"'Christon watched as she moved around to settle upwind of him

and nodded. "'Of course.'

Talia took a bite of the hard bread

and kept her eyes averted while Christon ate his own meat.

"'I admit to having little dealings with meat-eaters.

Our village is quite isolated that way.'

"'We see more of the grasslanders, I suppose,'

the bobcat mused.

"'Our village trades regularly with the larger towns and cities across the mountains.

"'Our farmers raise both food animals and grains for trade to all.'

"'I would like to go to the cities one day.'

Talia leaned back

and sighed, staring at the sprinkling of stars becoming visible

as night spread across the plains.

"'They must be very pleasant,

and everyone respects the pack.'

"'Christon wrapped his supplies carefully

and set them back in his pack.

"'Everyone respects the pack here, too, Talia.

"'Perhaps from your village

we hear stories sometimes from villages to the east.

Packs of hunters still on the prowl.'

"'And those villages are breaking the laws set out by our leaders

and by the priests of the hunt.'

"'Christon spat harshly.

"'Priests? "'You have no priests?

Who conducts the ceremonies and celebrations for your people?'

The cat sat back up,

looking over curiously.

"'Well, the elders, I suppose.

Are the priests elders?'

"'Sometimes. Sometimes they're young people who have

given their time to the lord of the hunt.'

"'Christon shrugged. "'I have

always had a priest of the hunt in my village.

"'Today they tell us that the lords, those that have gone before us

and watch over our hunting from above,

give us prosperity

through large, healthy herds

rather than successful hunts.'

"'Talia shuddered again.

"'And before these priests celebrated the hunt for my people

and the other grass-eaters?'

"'Not any more,' Christon said emphatically,

and with a tone that suggested the conversation was over.

"'Talia stared at the stars,

silently, for long moments.

"'We should sleep. The forest has still many hours of travel away.'

"'Yes. Good night, Talia.

"'Good night, Christon.'

The two creatures

settled into the grass,

alone with their thoughts,

watching the heavens spread above them,

finally bringing sleep.

It was odd travelling with someone who was not a deer,

but Talia found it more relaxing

than crossing the plains on her own.

Christon proved to be pleasant company.

Quiet and retiring much of the time,

he had his share of stories to tell as the two warped,

and often loped, towards the growing forest ahead.

"'You say traders have made their way to your village from the cities,'

she asked curiously. "'We see

city folk very infrequently.

One came through two years ago,

a squirrel. He dressed in fine clothes

and rode an ox with chest-strapped to it.

The elders gave him a portion of our harvest for the year

and said it was to pay a tax to the Prince of Avondale.

We barely knew we were part of that country.'

"'We had a similar thing happen,'

Christon said. "'Now, our visitor was a cougar,

and he had three coyotes pulling a cart.

If I recall, the mayor gave him a barrel of fish that had been

poorly smoked to get rid of it.'

Talia giggled. "'I'm sure the Prince appreciated that gift.'

"'I'm sure,' Christon flashed the grin at the dole.

"'But yes, traders do come.

We get fine fabrics like these,'

he gestured to his tunic.

"'For our goods. My mother is a seamstress and makes

excellent clothing.'

Talia looked down at her own clothing,

a simple shirt and skirt belted at the waist.

"'We trade for wool and other products and

make our own cloth back home,'

she sighed quietly.

"'I'd like to see more of the world.'

"'Why don't you?' the bobcat inquired.

"'What keeps you in green-downs?'

"'Well, my parents, of course,

my family. I can't leave them behind.

They need me to help with planting and harvesting,

gathering food and herbs.'

She shrugged. "'Maybe one day,

but first I need to finish this task

and help the village.'

"'That I understand.

I have my task as well.'

Christon paused a moment,

sniffing at the air,

then continued. "'But I know that I likely go to a shrine to the Lord of the Hunt, or so the priest told me.

"'What do you go to?'

Talia frowned at the question.

The elder could not tell me that.

I assume it would be,

well, something similar, I suppose.

Something or somebody who could

tell me the secret, teach me some way to help the village.

"'But who would that be?

Do your kind look to any creatures like the lords?'

"'Oh, not in the way you describe.'

"'We look to the sun for life,

at least the eldest tells that,'

Talia gestured to the cloudless sky,

waves of heat rising in ripples from the grasslands all around.

"'And sometimes the sun expresses displeasure with us for her own reasons.

None have explained why she would cast such a harsh gaze on her chosen.'

"'The lords of the Hunt never give an explanation for good or bad years either.

It is, perhaps, not for us to know.'

The bobcat raised his face

as a breeze curled across the plain.

"'Do you smell that?'

Talia lifted her nose

and forced her senses

to ignore the predators sent from close by.

Dry grass, a hint of water in the distance, perhaps

a slight spicy tinge that might be the forests.

She shook her head.

Nothing unexpected.

High your Hunt spirits following us, perhaps."

"'Perhaps they are.

Perhaps I'm being tested.'

He chuckled lightly.

"'Of course they would be very upset with me, running alongside a grass-eater as friends, not foes.'

They ran again, jogging easily across the rolling grasslands.

Talia watched the feline as they went,

his ears perked, their tufts streaming almost comically

and considered his words.

She had heard the stories that creatures could live together in peace,

that predator and prey lived together in the cities,

albeit mostly those along the borders,

where it made more sense that the residents of Avondale and Southmore blended more closely.

In the back hills of Avondale,

where villages of deer, squirrels, and others had been established for safety amid the greater population of meat-eaters,

such blending was still far from the norm.

But why should it be, she asked herself.

Here she was, running with a feline,

both of them seeking help for their people.

How different were they, truly?"

Talia smiled to herself

and put on a burst of speed,

passing her new friend,

for that was what he was.

Kristen squawked

when the dole pulled ahead of him with a laugh

and a mocking tail-flesh,

and the chase was on.

Their laughter drowned out the crunch of dry grass

as the two young creatures

raced across the plains.

This was the first of two parts of

Come the Storm by Tony Greyfox,

read for you by Kaki,

your faithful fireside companion. Tune in next time to find out how Talia and Kristen's journey together continues,

and how they face the dangers and mysteries that arise

under the heat of the summer sun,

as they seek a solution to their shared troubles.

You can find more stories on the web at TheVoice.

TheVoice.dog or find a show wherever you get your podcasts.

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