This is a short work of erotic fiction containing furry, or anthropomorphic, characters, which are animals that either demonstrate human intelligence or walk on two legs, for the purposes of these tales. It is a thriving and growing fandom in which creators are prevalent in art and writing especially.
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Gryphon Against the Grain
Great, gasping breaths tore through the young woman's chest as she ran, icy daggers spearing into her lungs as cold air flooded in at her bidding. Her feet were clad in a leather skins - primitive shoes - and she woman cursed the animal hide 'laces' that were coming undone, threatening to trip her. Fear drove her to greater speeds in her meandering mountain course and she darted down a narrow ravine, grey rock towering on both sides. Yet they would see her, they always saw her, noted every move and adjusted accordingly. The hunters saw everything. That was why no one had ever returned to her village to tell the tale of their hunting, if they were indeed hunted. The young woman's thoughts whirled, chasing one another through frenzied emotion.
She was too young to die.
Lips sore and chapped, she licked them with a dry tongue, mouth devoid of saliva. The terrain before her stretched ferocious and jagged, snow flurries gusting into her face. She had only ventured up the rugged mountainside in search of herbs and wild hares - tough, stringy meat but the best sustenance she could hope to lay her hands on. Humans took what they could get in her harsh world, living on the edge of the mountains. Crops had failed that year and sickness ran amok, stealing life after life like a falcon snatching up every meal it so desired. Behind, wings flapped, and she quickened her pace, fear driving her to higher ground.
A man of her village would have turned and fought the enemy and raised their heads high against the onslaught of terror: they would have faced their death boldly, she knew this. Yet terror nipped at her heels, dangling before her the promise of life. She would have fought if she had been at all able, if not bravely. Her wooden spear, tipped with metal, lay somewhere at her heels, far, far behind. The initial throw had been mistimed in panic and regretted a heartbeat later. Barren of weapons, all she could do was flee for her life.
Exhaustion thrummed through her like the hum of an unsheathed blade. Her muscles begged her to stop, pain wracking her form. She had to run. If she did not run, they would catch her. The hunters cackled, beaks clacking together in a hideous cacophony of sound tossed upon the mountain winds. Her hair blew into her face and she stumbled, crashing to her knees on the stone. Pebbles skittered wildly and a cry leapt unbidden from her lips, scraped knees bleeding into the animal skins that covered them. Her heart pounded against her ribcage with so much force that it actually hurt.
The hunters screeched, closer than ever, and she hauled herself upright, legs trembling, and pushed onwards.
It had all begun as such a normal day. Was that not always the way of it? Why had everything turned out so corrupt? Why had she not been able to avoid the air hunters? Tears blurred her vision and she faltered, energy failing at long last after her headlong, wild sprint. There was only so much the human body could do, even when thrust to the edge, desperate for the simple act of survival.
The rock came out of nowhere. Like a snake, it struck her foot hard and sent her tumbling to the ground in a mess of flailing limbs. Her head cracked against a boulder the world spun, nausea welling in the pit of her stomach. She rolled on to her back, elbows propping up her torso as she thrust herself backwards, legs kicking out against the ground. Blood trickled into her mouth, a metallic taste that brought her abruptly to inescapable reality.
A russet feathered gryphon landed in a clatter of claws and clicked the edges of its beak together as it walked forward. It did not hurry: its prey had no way to escape. Like a cat with a toy, it circled the human several times, blinking slowly as it observed and preened, proud of its 'catch'. The human girl whimpered and scrabbled through the pebbles, the instinctive need to survive injecting her with an extra dose of adrenaline. But it was no use. The gryphon swished its leonine tail and cocked its head, allowing her to peer into one amber eye. The size of a horse, it towered over her, birdlike forepaws curling to grip the rough stone. She cowered into the rock, shrinking down into nothing. She would be less than nothing soon, meat in the stomach of a monster.
Breath did not want to come and she shook her head. No escape, not now, not ever. She was already nothing more than a story her villagers would tell to scare children into staying close to their guardians. Did that mean she had some use after all? The thought was vaguely comforting.
What she presumed in her numb state of terror was the first gryphon's mate landed with a clatter at its side, wings mantled above its back as if it was prepared to pounce or take off at a moment's notice. Raising her hand, she pushed sweaty clumps of brown hair out of her eyes: she would see her doom. She would face it as bravely as any man ever would. The gryphon rumbled and swung its head towards the russet one, its white-grey feathers struck through with black in an intricate, beautiful pattern. If she had been at a comfortable distance, she could have admired the vicious creature, a seamless blend of avian and feline.
Strangely, watching the gryphons interact with growls and birdlike squawks settled her nerves, calm wrapping around her like a woven blanket on a cold winter night. The pain would be over soon. And it was not physical pain that she made reference to, what had driven her so far from home with no regard for her safety. It felt better to fall to the beak and claws of a powerful predator rather than illness, like the rest of her family had. The disease had ripped through village after village, destroying human and animal alike. She had nothing left. No one to care for. Those that had cared for her were long gone.
Yes, she would much prefer to die quickly and cleanly rather than in the sweats of disease.
With the arrogance only a predator could embody, the gryphon stalked up to her face, talons tap-tap-tapping on the stone. The stone grey fur covering the feline half of its body rippled with muscle and it lowered its head to her level, staring her down. She closed her eyes, fear rocking her stomach into flips of nausea, and awaited the end: it was time.
You are easy prey, human. Why did you venture into our territory?
She must have been hearing things. Opening her eyes one at a time as if afraid of what she would see, the young woman blinked and pushed herself up to her elbows. In such a position, she appeared as if she had merely chosen to recline upon the mountainside, curious as to how much of her sanity remained. Was she hearing voices or was the myth to become a reality?
"What did you say?" She said cautiously, rubbing her arm where blood seeped through a graze. "Or is this my final dose of insanity? I lost everything else and now I have to lose my mind too?"
The gryphon pulled its head back sharply, wings flaring out to either side. Expecting the beak to snap down over her head, she flinched and braced herself for the impact, the end that never came. The gryphon studied her, eyes shining with intelligence.
You are not the first to consider that possibility. This is very much real, allow me to assure you.
So it was real, or at least so in her final moments, she thought with a fair dose of wonder. Who would have known? Well, if she was to die anyway, she may as well ask a question of the legend and have it answer her questions. Reasoning at death's door was swiftly becoming a speciality of hers.
