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Anna Katheryn Smith

"Rarest of the Wild - p.1-10" by Anna Katheryn Smith

SF&F Picture 22 out of 33 by Anna Katheryn Smith
 
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Pages 1 through 10 of a novella. This is my first attempt at putting romance within my more usual adventure elements from quite a few years back. This is also the first story where I have absolutely no human characters, (although humans are mentioned) which in itself is a departure from my 'normal style'. Maybe hanging around with the 'furry' role-playing crowd got to me a little here, because this story is definitely set in an anthro universe. The original idea was to put this story and its main character out as a kind of answer for all the 'dumb brute' and nearly universally male minotaur stories out there. I had planned to make this a short story, or perhaps a series of them, but it kind of grabbed me up and ran away with me. The minotaur's name is pronounced Ah-nee-ah-kak, with the 'a' in that last syllable being like the 'a' in cat.

At least it's finished, and that's more than can be said for most of my stories.

Update: I have been looking into publishing this work, and to that end, have gone back and done some more editing, more revision, and a little rewriting now that my vision of my universe's minotaurs has crystalized. It's made it a few pages longer, but I hope that it has also made it better. Please feel free to compare if you've read it before, and to criticize or comment on how it's changed or strikes you now, if this is the first time you've read it. Thank you.

Sequel! - Miguel Ettema has been working with me to pen a sequel for this story. It's already won two Mod's Choice awards, and he is an excellent writer. Go read Rarest's Child after taking a peek here.

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Rarest of the Wild
He ran through the dark forest, hindpaws pumping against the ground. Branches caught at his clothes, and he tore free with a snarl, muscles screaming. His ears flicked back, and he prayed for some clue that the pursuit was dropping off. Instead, the shouts rose, closer than ever. He cursed. He'd hoped the stories about this part of the woods would turn at least a few. Those hunting him yelped again, and he tried to sort through the noise of his own heartbeat and ragged breathing to get an idea of who was following.
Wolves, at least two, a Coyote, Dogs... Blast! That's a Hound for sure. No wonder they tracked me down so fast.
An eerie moaning joined the other howls, and a rapid fire yapping crescendoed.
A Hyena! And Foxes as well. He bared white fangs. My own kind, running with a hunt pack. Hatred of me must run deep, to band such a group together.
A branch slashed across his muzzle, drawing a pained yelp. Behind him, the tonguing of the pack faltered, and hope sparked. When the howls rose again, there were fewer voices, but still, too many. Ears flattened, he lowered his head and ran on, crashing through underbrush too thick to go to all fours. His only comfort was that it would slow down the others as well.
The dense trees thinned, and panting, he stumbled into a clearing. Strength almost gone, he looked about for some kind of shelter. The half moon threw pale light over the land, and the sight of a large outcropping of rock brought a grim smile to the face of the russet half-Fox. He plowed to a halt and whirled, setting his back to the rough stone. He rested and waited, breath fogging in the chill night air.
They burst from the treeline, barking triumphantly when they saw him. Hands pointed and fists were shaken.
"Rrraskter!"
"We have you now, freak!"
"There's the mongrel!"
"Monster!"
Rrraskter winced at the last. It seemed that word had dogged his life, the echo following on every step. The pack skidded to a stop and spread out in a half circle. The only Fox, Terrk, bared his teeth.
"What's the matter, were-spawn, don't like that?"
Rrraskter surveyed the group with grim amusement. All these, just to beat him down? He must have really managed to offend egos the other night in the tavern.
"What's this? A Fox, three Dogs, and a Hyena? Unless my ears have failed me, there should be more of you. Where are the Coyote and Wolves? The rest of the Foxes? Your pet Hound?"
A German Shepherd growled. "Watch your mouth, half-breed. We didn't need the Hound to catch your sort."
Rrraskter lifted a brow. "Meaning she and the rest were smart enough to go home."
A new voice sounded, calm and steady, in stark contrast to the others.
"Easy Ras. You're not helping your case."
The big half-Fox stiffened, ears swiveling to the side as the tall black Wolf stepped into the ring of animal Folk.
"Mic. What are you doing here? How..."
A tired hopelessness infused Rrraskter's voice. Mic had been the closest he'd ever had to a friend. The rangy Wolf was the only one who hadn't harassed and picked on him in his youth, or ignored his existence, even treating him with kindness. He was also, despite the Hyena's bulk, the most dangerous of those before him. Gurgen was strong, but slow and stupid.
The Wolf's blue eyes held understanding, and his reply was not without sympathy. "I ran silent, parallel to your trail. I was going to cut you off if you ran my way."
Rrraskter felt as if he'd been gut-punched. Mic shrugged, and Terrk moved to his side, sharply bringing into focus just how startling the half-Fox was. The size difference among the larger canines was nearly nonexistent, even Gurgen not much taller than the Wolf. But Terrk, like most Foxes, was small, the top of his head on a level with Mic's ribcage.
Thanks to his mixed heritage, however, Rrraskter was even taller than the Hyena, and his fur was more a burnished copper than red. His was the heavier and broader muzzle of a Wolf, the hidden strength of human-tainted lupine blood. In all other respects, he seemed a normal, if huge, red Fox. His white-tipped brush alone was large enough to completely hide Terrk, his black-nailed pawhand dwarfing the one the other Fox shook angrily at him.
"He comes to see justice done!"
Rrraskter sneered. "Justice? Ha! Your jealousy has brought you here, no more!"
The others started muttering.
"...stealer of females..."
"Despoiler."
"Thief."
"Big shot, thinks he can have any woman he wants..."
"Freak."
Rrraskter snorted. In his prime now, and too strong to tackle alone, he was unwillingly left alone by the males of his hometown. His abnormal size and fur color, thanks to his werewolf father, had made him exotic, and the same was not true of the town's female population. He wagered none of these sentiments had been voiced when females were running with the pack.
"We want vengeance! He took Sarn without her permission!"
"She lies!!" It was a wounded cry. Rrraskter's heart jolted. He'd only been running with the lovely Vixen for a little while, but he already cared for her more than he had for any other tryst. He had more often found himself hoping that she would stay with him, even though she'd never shown more than carnal interest. He couldn't imagine why she would say something so terrible… golden eyes narrowed as a thought struck him. "Or does she? Maybe it's just you spinning the tale. You wanted to win her favors as well, didn't you Terrk? Is that it? You just can't stand that she chose me over you!"
Terrk shook with fury and launched himself at Rrraskter. An almost nonchalant backhand sent the smaller Fox flying backwards. Snarling, Terrk picked himself up and drew his knife.
"Get him! Kill the were-spawn!"
"I thought as much," said Mic blandly, sliding into place at Rrraskter's side. He had time enough to flash Mic a grateful smile, and then they focused on those closing in around them. Fur bristled as weapons were thrown aside, disdained and outlawed in this type of combat. Jaws gaped as the pack split, two Dogs advancing on Rrraskter, the Hyena and other Dog closing in on Mic. Terrk shrieked encouragements. Growls and snarls reverberated as teeth clashed. Claws ripped, tearing through cloth, fur, and skin. Barks and howls clogged the air. In the frenzy, Mic and Rrraskter were separated.
Rrraskter punched the Shepherd roughly. Nails scored his pelt from behind, tearing his shirt as the other Dog jumped on his back. He jerked an elbow into the Dog's stomach, hearing a satisfying yelp as the claws loosened and fell away. The Shepherd went down and Rrraskter whirled, giving the other reeling Dog a hard slap. He yelped and jerked backwards, face a jagged tear of scratches. The half-Fox glanced behind him and gave the recovering Shepherd a kick that sent the tan canine to the ground again. Rrraskter chuckled. Only two against him? This wasn't a fight, this was an enjoyable distraction! He glanced over to where Mic was handling his opponents in much the same manner. Suddenly the Wolf straightened, expression twisting into an agonized grimace. He slowly toppled, and Terrk pulled his knife from Mic's back.
"Mic! No!"
But the Wolf was already dead. Terrk, eyes blazing with madness, grinned and advanced. The Hyena and other Dog joined him. Rrraskter, frozen, stared at his friend. No one was supposed to die in these things, only get beaten, defeated, so they knew their place!
"Murderer!"
Rrraskter leaped for Terrk, forgetting the others. They leaped on the half-Fox, who ignored their blows as he tried to strangle Terrk. Their punches and kicks went unregistered as Rrraskter used all his strength to throttle the squirming Fox. Terrk, eyes bulging, desperately used his knife to slash at Rrraskter's arm. Snarling, he was forced to let the smaller Fox go. As the pack rained punishment on him, Rrraskter was overwhelmed. His world faded to a haze of pain and blood.

* * * * * *

He lay on the ground, one eye already swelling shut. Kicks still thudded into his sides, and Rrraskter could only grunt in anguish as each blow landed. When the beating stopped, he almost sobbed in relief. Terrk pulled his rival's head around and fingered his knife.
"Ooh, we're not done yet," he purred, "Gurgen wants a pouch made of your fur, and what better place to cut then where a pouch is practically ready made?"
Terrk smashed the pommel of his knife into Rrraskter's crotch. The semi-conscious half-Fox howled at the excruciating pain, and did his best to curl up in spite of broken ribs. Ugly laughter sounded from his attackers as he tried to hitch away.
A savage bellow like nothing he'd ever heard made Rrraskter crack open his good eye. All he could make out through the blur was a large, dark shape thundering among the canines. Screams of terror became gurgles of death as whatever-it-was plowed through the vigilante pack. Too weary to care whether or not it would come for him, Rrraskter let his eye fall shut.
Silence, the soft thump of steps approaching, then a quiet snorting and the touch of a wide muzzle as the creature scented him. Hands of infinite gentleness turned his head, and his eye fluttered open. Moonlight silvered the outline of a horned figure made of shadow, too indistinct to focus on. Rrraskter's eye closed. Arms slid under and lifted his body, cradling it against a tunic-covered chest. His head flopped against a shoulder and furred neck, and he whimpered as his ribs shifted. A soothing hum by his ears quieted him. Unconsciousness hovered, and he let himself be swallowed by the dark, the faint scent of apples clinging to the soft fur his nose was pillowed against.

* * * * * *

The memory of Mic and the beating woke him, the fear and grief of the nightmare blending into the now. Rrraskter cried out and began struggling when he opened his eyes and could not see. Ignoring the pain that moving brought, his pawhands darted up and began yanking at whatever covered them. He had to see! How could he fight if he couldn't see?! Had they blinded him?
Strong arms eased around his shoulders, firmly pinning them down while a low crooning soothed him. Realizing he was no longer in danger, Rrraskter allowed himself to be lulled to sleep, assured of safety and the knowledge that someone was caring for him.

* * * * * *

Rrraskter wasn't aware of the passage of time, only the burning heat of his body. His sleep was repeatedly interrupted by someone forcing food and water into him, and the blessed relief of being patted down with a wet cloth when the illness made having even the lightest of blankets too much to bear. The infection raged, and he muttered and cried out in dreams populated by Foxes and Wolves made of fire.

* * * * * *

Light brightened against his eyelids, and Rrraskter stirred. He blinked and reached up to prod his injured eye. It was fully healed and no longer bandaged. How long have I been asleep? Where am I? The half-Fox sat up, groaning as his ribs let him know they were still mending. He ran a hand over the clean wrappings that bound his torso and glanced around.
He was propped up on a makeshift bed of hides, naked under a thin blanket. The walls, ceiling and floor were of stone, and he realized he was in a large cave's chamber. To his left and right, immense hide drops hung from the roof to the floor, screening what lay beyond from view. His bed was snugged up to a rock wall, and past the foot, at the far end, was a clay fireplace built over a cooking pit. Tallow lamps were arranged throughout the room, in addition to the fire. It was the flame's dancing light that had woken him. A woodpile rested in one corner, and shelves of pottery and cooking utensils in another. There were also a couple of wooden chairs and stools, and a large table. Sitting quietly at it, dark fur blending into the shadows, was his host.
Rrraskter's fur lifted as his golden eyes widened. Suddenly the half-Fox was pressing back against the pillow as far as he could, ignoring the pain in his ribs, jaw slack in astonishment and fear.
"It can't be, you're impossible! You're not here, you're not real! Oh gods, this isn't happening..."
The minotaur stood up slowly, making no threatening movement. Fear yammered at Rrraskter as he stared. The beast had to be at least eight feet tall, long pale horns thrusting skyward. Short, dark brown fur covered its entire body as far as he could see, and it wore a plain tunic and loincloth. Black hair cascaded about the broad shoulders, a generous forelock spilling around the horns and brow. Large, leaf-shaped ears moved forward as it took a few steps towards the gaping half-Fox. His eyes focused on the massive, bovid hind legs and mammoth black cloven hooves, which looked as if they could deliver a kick powerful enough to shatter bone. A long tail flicked about the bushy fetlocks, hair the same black as that on its head making up the lengthy tassle.
He tore his gaze back to the face, heart thudding in his chest as he recalled all the horror stories he'd ever heard about the unnatural being that stood before him. Was he a prisoner? A slave? A future meal? The weakened canine finally collapsed, his body shutting down as the fear became too great to sustain.
The minotaur grunted and turned away, a disappointed expression on its bovine face.

* * * * * *

Rrraskter sat up, gasping as he jarred his ribs, eyes darting everywhere. He was alone. After a moment, he sighed in relief. A minotaur! Surely just another dream, a nightmare, a hallucination. But the cave was real. So his surroundings had found their way into a dream, what did that matter? Still, he should probably leave, and not impose on whoever's home this was.
The half-Fox threw back the blanket and inspected his wounds. Like his eye, the smaller scratches and bites were fully healed. Only his ribs and the nasty gash on his arm were still bandaged. Satisfied, Rrraskter pulled the blanket up around his waist. A faint odor, getting stronger, made him pause and sniff. Sure enough, a kettle was set over the fire, steam wafting. His stomach growled, and he stood, legs wavering. He was so weak! How long had he lain here, that his legs refused to bear him? Even now, the effort of standing had tired him. His legs folded, dropping him back onto the bed with a yelp. It seemed he would be staying after all. He breathed in again, and caught the smell of carrots and tubers. Vegetable soup? Had he been rescued by a Deer or Horse then?
The hide drop on his right was pushed aside, and Rrraskter stilled as the minotaur came in carrying a load of wood. The beast spared him a reluctant glance and dumped the armful next to the fire. It straightened, and gave its pelt and long mane a shake, the loincloth and light, sleeveless tunic it wore moving with the motion. Rrraskter's jaw gaped as it turned towards him, struck again by just how imposing it was. Taller then the half-Fox, muscular almost beyond belief, well defined sinew and tendons rippled under the dark-pelted hide. The minotaur was built for strength, heavy boned and sturdy.
Waiting until Rrraskter had calmed, watching his as breathing eased and stiff posture relaxed, the half-Fox's… host? captor? slowly moved closer. He watched every step with renewed apprehension, shrinking back as far as he could go. The minotaur halted at the bedside and uttered a low, wordless croon. The half-Fox's pointed ears came forward. He knew that sound! The one who'd saved him had done that.
"You?"
Apparently taking that as permission, the minotaur leaned closer, hands checked the bandages around his ribcage and on his arm, touch light. This close, the nervous half-Fox couldn't help but catch the beast's scent. There was nothing he could recognize to it – if he'd come across it out in the woods he would have been unable to tell what sort of person or animal made it. Deep and warm, bearing a feral taste of the darker wilds, yet touched with a hint of apples, of all things, there was one more element which stunned Rrraskter completely. The minotaur was female! His mind raced, in that way that happens when one is close to panic, and thoughts seize on one thing to try stave off total hysteria. Why hadn't he noticed before? Build? In a way. As powerful as the minotaur was physically, there were other Folk whose women were strongly made and brawny. Yet… a blink. Realization. No breasts. Almost all the female Folk he knew had them, but the minotaur patently did not. Her chest beneath the tunic was flat and muscled, like any male. She still possessed proportionately flared hips, but that was a detail lost to all but a close inspection. As the minotaur bent over him, her long, thick neck swinging down until her muzzle hovered above his sternum, he tensed, unsure of her intentions.
Large, velvet-skinned nostrils flared as she took in his scent, leathery ears flicking with satisfaction as her nose told her the strange Fox was no longer seriously ill. No more did the stench of fever and blood cling to him. Surprise had flooded his scent for a moment, though, and the minotaur was trying to puzzle out what had caused that, in the middle of the cloud of fear he'd been engulfed in. Pondering, she turned and went towards the fire, where the stew that had been prepared simmered.
Rrraskter relaxed a bit as the minotaur moved off, and watched as she ladled some of the soup into a bowl and brought it to him, cloven hooves thumping softly. She held it out just inside his reach, not coming any closer then necessary. He shook his head. The brown eyes blinked, and she took another step, then proffered the bowl once again.
"No thanks."
The confused look on her face was almost comical. She inched closer, and even went so far as to bob her head at the dish and make slurping noises. Her insistence bemused Rrraskter. He was famished, but wary of eating anything his bizarre host would offer. A completely vegetarian diet didn't normally sit well with his stomach. Her behavior was curious. He shook his head again and pushed away the plate. The minotaur squared her jaw and set the bowl down. She repeated the odd motion of sniffing at him, then gave a snort and thrust out the retrieved soup.
"I'm not hungry."
She just stood there, unmoving and mute. Rrraskter's belly took the opportunity to grumble loudly. The triumphant, knowing expression that spread across her heavy features amused him amused him in a nervous way, and he smiled hesitantly, taking the bowl and trying ignore the way his tail wanted to creep between his legs.
"Okay, you were right. How did you know?"
One brown skinned finger tapped her nose.
"You smelled that I was hungry?"
The great head nodded.
Rrraskter raised a brow skeptically. But there was time for that later. He was so ravenous, even the scent of the broth made his mouth water, and he set to work on it. After a few bites, he knew this wasn't soup, but stew! Thick chunks of meat swam among the vegetables, which, seasoned and cooked to softness, went beyond palatable. They were delicious! Rrraskter suddenly couldn't seem to stuff himself fast enough. He looked up at the minotaur.
"This's ver good," he managed to say between mouthfuls. She dipped her horned head and smiled hesitantly. Rrraskter gulped as the grin revealed the reason there was plenty of meat in the stew – fangs more than equal to the task hid behind those bovine lips.
Seeing his discomfort, the minotaur's smile faded, and she turned away. She ladled out another plate of stew, then gathered an odd assortment of glass containers filled with different powders onto a wooden tray. Snatching a gourd of water, she retreated past the hide curtain.
After regaining his composure in the welcome solitude, Rrraskter's ears dipped in an unseen apology as he finished his food at a slower pace. Putting aside the empty bowl, he lay back on the bed which had been provided for him, and thought about all that had occurred. Rational. Think it through, Ras. You've been fed, healed, and given a comfortable place to recover. There has been… some sort of communication, at least. None of this points to being eaten in the future, or chained up as a slave. Benefit of the doubt, Ras. Everyone deserves it. You above all should know that. A deep breath out, and the half-Fox rubbed his nape with a black pawhand, muscles gradually having lost their shiver and simply sore now from the tension. Although he tried to wait, the minotaur still hadn't returned by the time he surrendered to sleep.

* * * * * *

He woke to find food and water resting beside his bed, as well as his clothes, neatly folded and clean. He fingered the blue material, now patched and mended, and slipped the trousers on gratefully, pulling the belt tight. Ribs still too sore, he left the gray shirt for later. He ate and drank, then tried his legs again. They bore his weight unsteadily, so he tried a short walk around the room on all fours. He was nosing around the pottery – all looked to be handmade – when the minotaur came in. She snorted in surprise to see him up and about, and he grinned, pleased to note that he hadn't felt the normal stab of alarm, only a vague uneasiness. See? Thinking circumstances through works wonders.
"I heal fast. Get it from my father."
The fur on one of the minotaur's shoulders rippled in a shrug. Most of his wounds had closed and mended without so much as a scar, and at a speed she hadn't believed possible. She busied herself with the morning's catch, two large fish already gutted and cleaned, spearing the flesh on thin sticks and setting them above the coals to dry. Ears flicking, the minotaur then swabbed everything down with soaproot and water to get rid of the smell, working a stiff bristled brush over the cutting board she'd laid on the table.
"Um, pardon me?"
She scrubbed harder. Waiting a few moments, the half-Fox's pointed ears flickered back and forth uneasily as the silence lengthened. Rrraskter began to approach slowly, noting that as he did, his uneasiness grew. Well… so I'll be in arm's reach. There's nothing at all which has said she'll attack or try and harm me.
There's still some comfort in being out of the range of those clawed fingers and large fangs.
…true.
"Please, won't you at least tell me what's going on? Who are you? Where are we? How long have I been here? What happened to Mic and the others?"
The minotaur sighed and paused in her cleaning. Heavy, bovine features looked down at Rrraskter, his furred brow pinched in worry and a bit of fear, regardless of the boldness of his voice. The half-Fox took a deep breath.
"Okay, let's start with names. I'm Rrraskter. Rrraskter." He pointed to his chest with a black pawhand, repeating his name. The minotaur nodded her understanding.
"Good. Now who are you? I know you're not a mute, you can make noises. Come on, say something." He moved his hand to point at her chest. Warm brown eyes regarded him for a moment, debating. She grunted her name out, voice rough.
"Aniakac."

* * * * * *

Rrraskter growled. He'd been able to get no more from the minotaur, and when he'd persisted in his questions she'd set him to work washing, peeling, and cutting roots. It had taken him all day, and worn his pale strength out. He fell into his bed after dinner, and endured her poking and prodding as she changed the bandage on his arm and tightened the rib-bindings. Aniakac had left him alone after that, apparently for the rest of the night, taking her little glass jars with her. But, weary as he was, his mind wouldn't let him rest, questions needling him. He stared at the dancing shadows the fire threw on the wall.
Sometime later, he became aware of the singing. Wordless, yet clear, the notes flowed through the air, neither loud or coarse. The tones rose and fell in a sweet, lonesome tune, and before he knew it, Rrraskter was nosing past the left drape and following the sound. He passed from the main chamber deeper into a network of tunnels. They were lit by evenly spaced glowing spheres the size of his hand, set into the stone walls. They radiated a pleasant white light, illuminating the corridors. Magic...
He followed the voice to a branching of tunnels, down a corridor then through another. He found the minotaur seated on a bench in the center of a very long, surprisingly straight cavern. She was singing as she worked, mixing the powder of various pollens, minerals, and ground plant matter with water. Using her fingers as well as a variety of brushes, she painted the smooth rock wall of the cavern. From the entrance where he stood, unnoticed, up to the place where she sat, working, the wall was covered in paintings. The entrance was bordered with designs and markings that he assumed were writing, and after that, were a series of paintings near-realistic in quality, but containing some heavily stylized elements. It depicted two minotaurs, one with silver hair and a crooked horn, facing and holding the hands of another minotaur, this one dark-hued and with horns just as long as the other. To his eye, neither seemed female. Yet, here was an answer to one of his questions, for the next scene showed the one with the crooked horn bearing a heavily rounded belly, and breasts, obviously pregnant, the dark minotaur, whom Rrraskter assumed was male, looking lovingly down on the first, his hands resting on her shoulders. The next few pictures coating the rock wall went in stages, with a detailed picture of a baby minotaur he assumed to be Aniakac from the coloring, then various scenes from early childhood, the initial few showing the pale-coated female, but with a feminine chest that grew less pronounced in each rendering. Only when nursing a child then, or about to have one? No wonder in all the stories and horrific tales about minotaurs, only males were talked about. No one would have known differently.
More of the strange lettering was present here and there, as much an added aesthetic as the paintings themselves, a visually beautiful language. The last portrait done in the style they'd begun with showed the female placing a brush in the leggy child's hand, and guiding the beginning of a painted line. The passing of the torch, as it were? It must have been, for the style and skill level altered radically after that. They started out crude and depicted things of juvenile importance, then seemed to slowly gain detail and definition the further in they went, neatly showing the development of Aniakac's skill even as the pictures depicted showed her maturation on a mental level, the events and things that had befallen and affected her no longer so trivial or vague. It was a record of Aniakac's life. A visual diary of sorts.
Rrraskter had to clamp his jaw shut on a whine. He shouldn't be here uninvited, and he had already seen too much. Though so far, the minotaur had been nothing but benevolent-seeming, who knew what she would do if she found him in what was obviously a very personal, private place. A shiver ran along his tail at the thought of those sharp fangs, the heavy jaw. As the minotaur wiped her fingers on a piece of old skin, completely engrossed in her task, the half-Fox crept unseen back to his bed.

* * * * * *

Rrraskter fidgeted. He'd never been good at staying put, and despite his weakened state and injuries, he was near insane with boredom. He stared at the minotaur, who was using a pestle to grind soft stones and roots for her paints.
"Look, I know you don't really understand me, but I'm going to talk anyway. I hope you don't mind."
Aniakac looked up, ears pricked. Rrraskter blinked, and fretted some more. "Well, I guess I'll tell you about where I live. You've seen the lights from town right? It's called Liir-Fen. It's big now, used to be a little village. My mother was from there. My place is outside the boundaries. Nice, quiet. Gets a bit lonely sometimes though."
Aniakac started crushing the minerals again, but her ears stayed forward to catch every word. She'd glance up and watch his face as he spoke. His eyes glazed and his tone changed, softened, grew wistful. "I don't think Sarn had anything to do with it. I mean, sure, she likes to play coy. She's a Vixen. She has to look out for herself. She's so pretty, red fur like you wouldn't believe."
He brushed a hand over his own copper pelt self-consciously. Aniakac cocked her head to the side and put down her tools.
"I'd seen her around all the time, since I was a kit, but we'd never really talked. I was actually surprised when she approached me. She's going to travel, see the world. It was just a bit of fun for both of us. She doesn't need the trouble companioning with a half-breed will bring on the road. A lot of the males didn't like that I was running with her. But they never do, no matter who it is I run trail with. I haven't had a pack come after me like that before though. I wonder what the story is back home. Probably think I'm dead. Soon as I'm better, I'll go surprise Sarn. She'll be glad to see me, at least."
Rrraskter rambled on, and wordless, Aniakac sat, just listening to his voice. The dark-furred minotaur sighed, barrel chest rising and falling with a gentle motion. It had been long and long since speech of any kind had sounded in her home. The minotaur's heavy head rested on a fist, leathery ears perked to absorb it all. After a while, Rrraskter noticed her attention. He chuckled softly. "Well, I'll give you this Aniakac. You'd make a good friend. You're a great listener, and you never interrupt. Guess I don't have to worry about what you'll think of me either. We're both monsters."
His jaw dropped when the minotaur flinched. "You understood that!"
Her brown eyes reproached him. The half-Fox's ears waved gently. "I suppose you would know that one. But it's just pelt deep."

* * * * * *

She'd finally allowed him to move about, even letting him help with meal preparation and try his paw at sculpting pottery. He'd made a hopeless mess and drawn a smile from the silent minotaur. Rrraskter really felt much stronger, and planned on going outside soon. He got a drink from the supply of gourds in which the minotaur kept water.
"Rrraskter."
His ears flicked in surprise. Aniakac repeated his name and motioned for him to follow her. She handed him a hunk of bread, which he tore into as he walked. Cloven hooves rasping softly against the stone, she led him to the cavern he'd seen her in over a week ago. Instinctively, he paused at the entrance, not going inside. The minotaur turned to look back at the half-Fox curiously, lifted a hand to beckon him further into the tunnel, and pointed at a section of wall.
"Rrraskter."
Her tone told him that there was something for him here. He went closer, able to see her work clearly. The story was there in pictures, scrolling down the wall until it reached a point just above his knee, then jumping up to Aniakac's eye level. There was the clearing, with him and the others. Two tiny, winged shapes hovered above, below the white half moon. Over each subsequent scene hovered a single winged form. Directly beneath it, the clearing was again rendered, the figures rearranged to show Mic beside the painted Rrraskter. Beneath that was a depiction of Terrk's killing of Mic, and of the beating. The next panel, up high, showed what was undoubtedly Aniakac's outline, eyes colored a fierce red, attacking the pack. Then one of her carrying him away, the shapes of the others done all in black.
"They're dead?" he husked, looking at her. She canted her head to the side uncomprehendingly. He pointed to the darkened figures. "Dead. Killed. Does this mean death?"
She tapped the black form and drew her hand down over her muzzle, briefly closing her eyes and shaking her head slowly.
He understood. They were gone, and it was likely she had killed them. He turned back to the wall with a shudder, pushing the thought away. It didn't fit with the gentle person he was getting to know.
The next one showed him in a bed, flames rising from his body, a dark grey shadow-fox shape hovering to the side. The Aniakac figure stood between the two. Seven yellow suns and six black lines hovered over the flame wracked half-Fox. Rrraskter muttered quietly, "Yes, I remember now. I was sick, with a fever. For a whole week?"

←- This Stranger, My Friend p. 81-85 | Rarest of the Wild - p.11-20 -→

DateNameComment 
1 Aug 2003:-)
Wow...now zat was an amazing, diggly story...O.O
13 Dec 200345 D Joelle Duran
Wow! I'm glad I found out about you through Miguel's sequel. (which I'm waiting to read until I finish this) This is wonderful! I love how you describe the minotaur and her home, art, and actions. I'll certainly be back for more!

:-) Anna Katheryn Smith replies: "Ah, another pilgrim come from Miguel's work. Welcome. *grins* I'm glad you've enjoyed your stay. Now get over there (like I know you already have) and read his sequel, which certainly merits the attention more. 12"
15 Dec 200345 Caitlin May Waggoner
Ooh... very good. I too came across this through the sequel, very glad that I did. Your characters are wonderful, very realized and well developed. I love the idea of the females only having breasts when they need them, very clever and logical.

:-) Anna Katheryn Smith replies: "The whole take on anthro feminine attributes is one of my pet peeves. *grins* I rather think my way is more logical and reasonable too, but thanks! It's always nice to have someone concur. 2 I'm glad you enjoyed the story."
12 Mar 200445 Frankie Ortiz
Hello, Anna! *joins the circle of "I found you through Miguel"* ^_~

I can see why he was so entranced by your writing, and I'm thoroughly impressed that he managed to catch your style so well. Make that, impressed at your style. Period. lol! I simply love how easily you slip into your "furries" and managed to make very non-human attribute seem as natural to me as everything that was. There was one line, ". . . taking the bowl and trying to ignore the way his tail wanted to creep between his legs." CRACKED me up! That was an awesome insight!

I am definitely interested and hooked - I will be back soon to read the next part! Wonderful story so far . . . and too, full of pain that I can relate to (on an extremely general level).

ja ne!
LoK

2 Anna Katheryn Smith replies: "~ Thank you very much! *grins* I'm very glad you enjoyed the story, and the meager skills of the teller. 12 Yes, Miguel has done an amazing job with the sequel. Better than the original, I think!"
27 May 200445 Jennifer L. Martin
Well, just to be different, I have to say that I found you from D Joelle Duran's page, and not Miguel's. ^_^ I love your description of the characters in this story - how the animal behaviour combines with more sentient mannerisms. I think this is probably the first 'anthro' work I've ever read - other than children's stories - and I found it interesting that all those predators live together in the same village. Also, why did Rrak's(?) 'pained yelp' at the beginning cause some of the pursuers to break off? Wouldn't that have encouraged them? Anyway, very well written - it just flowed straight from the screen into my brain.

:-) Anna Katheryn Smith replies: "Yeesh, I need to catch up on my replies. Sorry about how long it's taken me. *grins* However you got here, thanks for your very kind comments - if this is the first anthro work and you liked it, that's a high compliment indeed. 2 /as for the predators, well, that's because they don't compete like real predators would - what they can't hunt, they can always trade for, buy, or raise non-sentient animals as stock. Folk don't eat other Folk, so that explains the peaceable population of predator/prey species. As for your question about the pained yelp making the pack falter, it didn't. Rras just had the bad luck to get snapped in the face. The pack faltered because they'd reached the border at Trail's End, and a number of the members were not too keen on going into that 'forbidden' territory."
16 Sep 2004:-) Stephen Peter Thompson
I like the story, very full of life and action. I deffinately want to find out where this world goes, my curiosity is way piqued.

:-) Anna Katheryn Smith replies: "~ I'm glad it's an effective hook, and grabbed your interest. Read on then, don't let me stop you. 12"
28 Nov 2004:-) Tom Solomons
Ooh ooh ooh! Guess where I found this story from? Yep you guessed it, Miguel's new gallery, yep, he's back, with the prologue and part 1 already written, just minus the MCs, anyway, I really like this, it's good, very good, too god, get this published! And keep up the good work!

1 Anna Katheryn Smith replies: "~ Yes, I've since seen that Miguel's back, and I'm very happy about it. Now I have to go fix all my links and blurbs again, but ah well. When I get the chance, it'll be a happy chore. Thanks for commenting."
27 May 2005:-) Nicholas J. Blandford
This is a wonderful piece of work, Anna! Now that school is finally out for the year, I should be able to read the rest! You truly portray your minotaurs well, and I'm very impressed with the vivid imagery shown throughout this piece! There is a lot of depth here.... Well, I'm off to go try and read the next section!

2 Anna Katheryn Smith replies: "~ Thank you. *grins* I hope you enjoy the rest as much as you have this section."
29 May 200545 Grey_Mouse
Meant to say Pages 21 - 30.
29 May 200545 Grey_Mouse
I was going to read entire story, but noticed that 20 through 30 are missing. Were they lost during the recent downtimes that Elfwood had?

22 Anna Katheryn Smith replies: "~ Hmmm. I'm showing the pages you mention when I go through the site. Perhaps it was a glitch the day you tried to read them? They're there now, if you want to take a look."
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About 'Rarest of the Wild - p.1-10':
 • Status: OK
 • Created by: :-) Anna Katheryn Smith
 • Copyright: ©Anna Katheryn Smith. All rights reserved!

 • Keywords: Novella, Minotaur, Female, Warrior, Adventure, Romance, Battle, Unicorn, Hippogriff, Fox, Werewolf, Magic, Honor, Anthro, Anthropomorphic, Morph, Love, Furry
 • Categories: Magic and Sorcery, Spells, etc., Mythical Creatures & Assorted Monsters, Romance, Emotion, Love, Warrior, Fighter, Mercenary, Knights, Paladins
 • Views: 549


More by 'Anna Katheryn Smith':
 A Meeting of Minotaur and Dragon - short story.
Battle Chant at Dawn -- poem
Wake to Dreams - short story
This Stranger, My Friend p. 61-70
Rarest of the Wild - p.11-20
The Dryad's Song -- poem
This Stranger, My Friend p. 11-20
This Stranger, My Friend p. 71-80

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