Page 33 of Phoenix Rising

“Hey, he stole my costume,” Reese groused playfully.

“They really take this seriously,” she whispered back.

“No kidding,” Reese agreed. “Now I see why they cranked up the air conditioning in here. He must be roasting in that get-up.”

“Welcome, and thank you for joining us today.” The booming voice reverberated through the room. He barely needed a microphone. “I am Namean, the leader of this band of furries.” People clapped, and he waited for the applause to die down before continuing. “This is called a furmeet. You’ll interact with other people and learn about our movement. Every other week, we hold what is called a fur party. It’s an all-day event. Then, twice a year, we host a convention to bring all furries together. It’s a wildly popular extravaganza, and our next one is coming up in a week. Your fur leader will have more information. Let me introduce my pride to you.”

Bisclavret was a fur leader, as well as the skunk from the photo, whose name was Flower. The poodle was Fifi, and the zebra Marty, after the movieMadagascar, Audria guessed.

“Fifi is our newest addition,” Namean told them. “This will be her first furmeet as a fur leader, so be kind.”

Once the introductions were over, the leaders headed to their designated areas. Bisclavret took the chair in the front that looked more like a throne, and the others gathered around. Reese grabbed one of the bean bag chairs in the back. Audria was about to sit on the mat beside him but gasped when he pulled her into his lap. Oh, he felt so good. She could hardly concentrate on what Bisclavret was saying—something about getting to know each other.

“I’m Ross, and this is my wife, Amy,” Reese introduced.

The others followed suit, and since this was a preliminary class about furries, Bisclavret gave a history of the movement and what to expect if they decided to attend the fur party or the convention. Audria hoped they didn’t have to go that far.

“What happens at the convention?” a woman in front wanted to know. She wore a panda headband.

“It’s a great time,” Bisclavret enthused. “There are games, dance competitions, crafts, merchandise booths. Good food and movies. Namean does a great job of bringing in celebrities who have either portrayed animals on the big screen or television or might’ve voiced one.”

“Do you have to dress up?” a man wearing floppy dog ears asked.

“No, it’s not a requirement, but most people do. If you don’t have a costume, you can purchase one at the event. Several vendors will attend, with a selection of outfits and accessories available.”

“I thought furry conventions were basically sex parties,” a woman said, sounding haughty while wearing fuzzy pink deer antlers.

“Some are,” Bisclavret admitted. “Ours aren’t.”

“So, we can bring our children?” a rhino wondered.

“Well, you could. As I said, there is no group sex or anything untoward. But our conventions are for the eighteen or older crowd.”

“How many people attend?” panda questioned.

“Each one is bigger and better than the last, and our list of regulars has grown into the thousands. You’ll meet furry enthusiasts from around the world.”

“What about the weekend fur party?” Reese asked. “What’s that about?”

“It’s a scaled-down version of the convention,” Bisclavret informed them. “There are games, dance competitions, and movies. Food booths are available, and there are plenty of opportunities to purchase merchandise. It allows you to determine if this movement is something you are interested in pursuing.”

“What if it is?” Audria queried. “Every other week, you attend an all-day event and then the convention twice a year. Are there no gatherings in between?”

“Good question,” Bisclavret praised. “Hundreds of groups around the country have regular get-togethers, some weekly. We don’t facilitate them, but I would encourage anyone interested to find a local club near you.”

Namean ambled to their group. Prowled? Stalked? Sauntered? Audria wasn’t sure of the correct term for a lion’s gait.

“How is it going, Bisclavret?” Namean slapped the wolf on the back. “Have you convinced everyone to attend the next fur party?” His voice’s deep, rich baritone befitted the king of the jungle.

“I’m working on it.”

“I guarantee you will have the best time,” Namean proclaimed. “It is an enriching lifestyle that gladly accepts people from all walks of life, regardless of ethnicity, income, sexual orientation, or physical restrictions.”

“Where did you get your costume?” the deer antler lady wanted to know.

If a lion could preen, Namean indeed was. “I had this specially made by an Academy Award-winning costume designer in Hollywood. It’s one of a kind.”

“Isn’t it like two hundred degrees in there?” rhino speculated.

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