Murcie needs to step away from the world and find a moment of calm in his hectic life. The forest offers him that, and he is quick to run to it. However, rather than the solitude he hopes for, Murcie meets a tall and beguiling stranger that seems intent to hold his attention.

Today’s story is “A Stranger in the Woods” by Writer_A, who is a hobbyist writer and novice furry slowly dabbling in the fandom. Their story is a Halloween gift for a dear friend.

Read for you by Khaki, your faithful fireside companion.

thevoice.dog | Apple podcasts | Spotify | Google Podcasts

If you have a story you think would be a good fit, you can check out the requirements, fill out the submission template and get in touch with Khaki on Twitter or Telegram!

You’re listening to The Voice of Dog. I’m Khaki, your faithful fireside companion,

and Today’s story is

“A Stranger in the Woods”

by Writer_A, who is a hobbyist writer and novice furry slowly dabbling in the fandom.

Their story is a Halloween gift for a dear friend.

Please enjoy “A Stranger in the Woods” by Writer_A Copy and paste your story here: Razor-edged leaves rasped against Murcie's clothes while crooked twigs snagged on his brown fur,

but he paid them little mind other than making sure no harm came to his wings.

The path he took was rarely used,

wild and unwelcoming to outsiders.

Many wouldn't have bothered with the trip,

wary of poisonous plants and biting critters,

but the bat found that to be a boon.

The presence of other people brought with them reminders of his hectic life.

Of noise and crowds,

the ceaseless current of production.

Crunching numbers, cataloguing assets,

dealing with clients and their financial confusions.

A laundry list of tasks that never seemed to shorten.

The gears in his mind were always turning,

his brain always in thought.

Working hard to adapt

and react to an environment forever in flux.

Off the beaten path, however,

were pockets of stasis

where time held its breath

and the world slumbered.

In there he could let his mind still

and empty itself of its troubles. A welcome reprieve

in the hush. It was why his feet always drew him back to his path

day after day, to his little secret in the woods where the overgrown foliage concealed it from prying eyes.

No one else but him knew of it,

an untold knowledge only he was privy to.

The thought tickled his emotions, making him giddy like a child who managed to outsmart their parent.

This was his cherished sanctuary,

a home away from home.

The sun hung low in the sky by the time he reached a spot where the brush

suddenly opened to a glade.

Tall trees encircled the clearing,

their sweeping canopy obscuring the sky

save for a small opening at the center.

Their leaves stubbornly clung on despite it being late into the autumn,

but a good amount of them had carpeted the ground with an ankle-deep layer.

Murcie walked to the center and laid down spread-eagle,

brushing a tuft of yellow hair away from his eyes as he gazed skyward to behold the autumn canopy.

It was like a dome of gold flecked with red and stubborn greens.

A passing breeze

shook the leaves above,

making them shimmer in the fading twilight.

Memories of the day faded away,

the sylvan ambience of rustling leaves and the gentle groan of swaying trees

lulled his thoughts into a calm inertia.

Murcie was content to do nothing

but send his mind adrift

on an empty sea. The wind suddenly died;

the trees went still.

An unnerving quiet fell upon the glade, violently wrenching Murcie from his repose.

An ancient and primal emotion quaked in his heart,

awakening his senses.

His eyes snapped open,

and his ears perked up for any disturbance.

A deep instinct seemed to speak,

warning him to be alert and watchful.

Something was amiss.

Heart hammering in his chest, he scrambled to his feet.

Dread coursed through his veins,

making his skin prickle.

He looked around slowly so that nothing was missed,

but there was a hesitation in his movement.

A part of him feared what he might see.

Things that were beyond his vision,

watching him while his back was turned.

Formless though they were to his mind’s eye,

the thought of them bestowed a stifling terror.

He would not know of them until they moved into his sights,

making them real

and horrifying. An irrational thought slithered into his mind.

Maybe if he kept his head down and walked away all would be well.

If he didn't see it then

it simply didn't exist.

Yet he kept watching and turning until he spotted a pair of eyes staring at him.

They were unlike any he had seen before,

black as ink with slit irises of gold-color.

The eyes were nestled in a gloomy cluster of leaves.

The forest canopy and setting sun

made the shadows spread,

growing thicker with every second,

the deepness of the forest yawning wider.

Yet the eyes shone clear in defiance to the pitch.

By some miracle, Murcie neither screamed nor jumped. “U

-uh… hello?” Murcie said.

There was no answer,

only the pair of unblinking eyes and the tense silence that continued

to stretch on. The beating of his heart seemed to grow louder

until he could hear it pulsing in his ears,

a sonorous rhythm that knocked at his resolve

and brought a cold sweat to his brow.

Murcie started to think it was a prank,

someone hanging a mask in the woods to give him a scare.

It was that month after all.

Just as his cheeks were about to flush with embarrassment,

the eyes blinked.

A jolt of panic sent his heart convulsing,

his breath caught in his throat

as he tried to scream

only to croak out feebly. “L

-look, you’re starting to freak me out, say something!”

Murcie said, his voice becoming shriller

as panic rose.

The eyes slipped behind the leaves

and out walked a tall stranger.

They came silent and radiant, like a shaft of sunlight slipping through the trees.

Their body seemed to gleam in the sunset,

with fur so white and fine

that it resembled

polished marble. They approached,

their movements graceful and ghostly.

The undergrowth barely quivered, and neither rasping grass nor crunching leaves could be heard.

Even as the tip of their ears nearly brushed against the canopy, they appeared unhindered and almost untouchable.

The stranger wore clothes that were strange

and exquisite, but inappropriate for the woods.

A long robe that was dyed in a deep maroon color,

rich and dark like garnets,

with a skirt that stretched all the way down to the floor.

From their shoulders were lengths of cloth that served as open sleeves

and had the color of cognac.

They fluttered in the air as the stranger walked,

the earthly tone shimmering with a diaphanous quality

when it caught the light,

reminding Murcie of gossamer wings.

Though Murcie was beyond terrified,

he found himself rooted to the spot and transfixed by the stranger's appearance.

Try as he might to look elsewhere, his gaze would always find itself focused on their

eyes. It was as if he had been caught in an eddy,

the current guiding him towards the vortex.

The stranger was a step away from the clearing when they stopped short of it,

their strange eyes still staring at Murcie.

It could have been a trick of the light, but Murcie swore he saw those eyes glow like embers with amber colors

slowly swirling in those golden irises.

Up close, their face resembled

an Arctic fox. The fur around their neck was quite thick,

billowing out like a fluffy mane.

What was most strange was the pair of antlers on the top of their head.

It grew from above the stranger's brow and twined around the head into a shape that resembled a circlet

with smaller branches reaching upwards.

It was black in color, except for the curling tips that faded into an ashy white,

and it gleamed as if it had been burnished. “How strange it is to meet a mortal,”

the stranger spoke.

"What is your name?"

Murcie understood them perfectly, but the accent was odd and their voice peculiar.

He could pick up the slightest warble at the edge of their words, like an echo lingering at the fringes of his senses.

It was as if he wasn’t hearing the stranger’s actual voice,

but a delay in time and space.

A foreign tongue

that was rendered comprehensible.

Nonetheless, it was charming to his ears,

like soothing chimes where the sound flowed smoothly without a note jutting awkwardly.

But something tenebrous resided in the reverberation.

The pleasant tone masking a persuasion that slipped inside and hooked itself on Murcie’s mind

like burdock burrs.

An unexpected calm came over him,

quelling his anxiety and slowing his heartbeat.

What was it about the stranger that made him so cautious?

He couldn’t recall nor find a reason,

it all seemed so silly.

The stranger was quite pleasing to the eye with their fine fur and alluring eyes.

Maybe they were here to help?

A compulsion grew in Murcie,

a desire to freely give his name to the stranger.

With tongue loosened and lips parted,

he was ready to let his name slip out.

Then, a sudden fulmination shocked him back to reality,

aghast he could be so friendly with someone he hardly knew.

"You tell me yours first,

I'm not about to give mine to someone I don't know," Murcie

said. The fox-creature regarded him silently,

their face smooth like porcelain and just as inanimate.

Not a single crease or twitch betrayed their emotions.

Their intent, whatever it was,

remained unknown.

Murcie could feel a shiver crawl up his spine at the sight,

to see someone so in control of their expression was beyond natural.

"Look, man, if you're trying to sell something, I'm not interested," Murcie continued.

"And how the hell did you find this place? I've walked here a ton of times, and never seen anyone else."

At that, mirth fractured their pristine face.

The fox-creature chuckled with a lush and pleasant sound,

like water bubbling forth from deep within the earth.

"It is we who should be asking you that question, mortal,"

they said. "For we have walked under the shade of these trees for countless of your generations,

seen the sway of the stars, and witnessed the land before your coming.

Rarely have your people graced these woods."

Visions shimmered at the edge of Murcie's sight,

glimpses of a time when the forest was wilder than now.

A canopy so thick it blotted out the sky and turned day into night.

What little sunlight found its way through looked more like stars in the heavens.

Freewheeling between those vast sylvan halls were colorful phantoms

frolicking underneath the vaulted canopy

in blithe merriment. Murcie shut his eyes tight to try and drive away the visions,

but they only grew more intense,

and their vibrancy seared themselves into his memory.

The phantoms surrounded him and danced,

forming a ring of colorful fire.

They giggled and whooped with voices so thunderous that

he could feel it vibrating in his bones.

Murcie could only whimper,

collapsing to his knees

as he clutched his ears.

The visions faded as quickly as they came,

but the sounds of revelry still rang.

He slowly gathered his wits,

hands cautiously slipping down to rest at his side.

He stared dumbstruck at the stranger,

jaw slack and eyes wide with awe.

He had been ready to write the person as insane,

possibly some hermit high off the local flora,

but the things he saw

were beyond imagination.

Murcie made a mad scramble to get back on his feet,

kicking up leaves and dirt in his hurry.

He was eager to bolt

and put as much distance as he could from the stranger.

"I ask you again, mortal," they said, unbothered by Murcie's panic.

"What is your name?"

A strange glimmer came from their eyes,

like the oily iridescence of a beetle's carapace,

and Murcie felt that strange attraction again.

His mind softened and he felt his limbs go slack,

tension fleeing from his body.

The energy he had built up for his escape was now wasted,

spilling out into the cold night.

The stranger made their move

and walked into the clearing.

It was enough to startle Murcie, and he tried to make a hasty retreat,

but his legs were disinclined to move.

Rooted where they were and content to let him tip,

Murcie’s heel dragged against an unevenness in the ground.

He was sent falling back

and his heart plummeted.

His arms windmilled,

frantic to regain some balance that was far gone.

He shut his eyes tight;

prepared to feel his head slam against the unmoving earth.

But the impact never came.

The stranger was upon him,

cradling Murcie in their arms.

The feel of their fur was like lying in a bed of silks,

delicate and cozy.

He could see nothing as the fall had disturbed his hair,

a tuft of it falling over his eyes and obscuring his vision.

Remaining still, fearful of making a move,

he listened to the drumming of his heart

as he trembled in the stranger's arms.

"You needn't be so afraid, dear mortal,"

they said. His hair was swept back with a white-furred paw before it stroked his cheek with a single finger,

making his face prickle with heat

and his breath quiver.

The stranger's face was all he could see;

his eyes could go nowhere else.

"Tell me again, mortal,

what is your name?"

That panic-stricken voice in Murcie's head had fallen silent when the stranger touched him.

He found the contact akin to the dawn on his face,

gentle and kind. It beckoned him to trust the stranger while it placed

a graceful hand over his inner voice

and smothered it.

He could no longer heed the warnings, too enraptured by the beauty before him. "Murcie,"

he finally uttered his name.

A grin grew on the stranger's face,

lips pulled back to reveal needle

-like teeth. "Murcie,

such a wonderful name for a mortal."

The effect came explosively,

a joy so intense

that it made his heart race and body shake.

Euphoria drowning his mind in a flood of emotions.

Nothing else mattered but to hear his name

uttered by one so magnificent.

The world seemed to turn grey,

its colors diminishing with the dwindling sunlight and growing gloom. Yet,

the stranger remained ever brilliant.

A lone star in the void.

They brought Murcie back on his feet and took a few steps away,

letting their paw run along the length of Murcie's arm as they moved.

The touch left his arm tingling, like static nipping at his fur.

A familiar warmth bloomed on his cheeks.

The luminescence around the stranger seemed to swell,

and Murcie noticed something else

glowing behind them.

He peered around to see two rowan trees that had grown towards each other,

their intertwining canopies forming an archway.

Between the two trees

was a sight of scintillating colors.

Like peering through a window into a resplendent world;

vibrant and ever youthful,

shining bright despite the night.

It delighted Murcie’s eyes as he stood transfixed by the scene.

"Would you like to come with me, mortal?"

the stranger asked.

"To my realm?" They raised an open paw and extended it for Murcie,

who raised a hand and was eager to take the offer. But his hand trembled

and his eyes blinked several times.

The enchantment started to wane. "N

-no… I sh-shouldn't…" he spoke,

voice ringing hollow.

The yearning in his heart tugging him down either path,

their reasons wholly different.

He felt so lost, unsure, and uncertain.

"I promise you there is a better life beyond,"

the stranger said.

"You will not want

nor worry for anything,

for you will be under my care

and become my charge.

I will shower you with gifts and blessings beyond measure.

You will know naught but bliss."

The stranger slipped a paw under his chin to caress it

before they gently brought up his face so that their eyes could meet.

"Please, Murcie." His name

was evoked once more with that heavenly voice.

Its deepness exerting a power that coiled deep into his spirit,

binding it to the stranger’s lustrous soul.

His breath quickened

and his thoughts became mute.

He reached out to hold the other’s paw.

The stranger grinned,

their fangs gleaming in the dark.

"Forget your worries for a spell,

let your old life vanish into the fog.

You may come to like staying with us...

forever." They walked towards the trees,

and Murcie followed with a smile on his face.

He passed beyond the edge;

his footfalls never gracing the glade

ever again. This was

“A Stranger in the Woods” by Writer_A,

read for you by Khaki,

your faithful fireside companion.

You can find more stories on the web at thevoice.dog,

or find the show wherever you get your podcasts.

Thank you for listening

to The Voice of Dog.