Beasts Like Us

Chapter 1-3

Mateo chatted with the other artists in line. Of the six in their conversation, only one was new to artistry and to conventions. Everyone else had samples of their work to pass around in hopes of making connections. The others were impressed with Mateo’s work and the style he had created. He inhaled to start telling them about his comic, and among the usual smells of the convention he picked up an unusual scent. He thought he had smelled it before, but then chalked it up to a figment of his imagination. There was no way he could have smelled something like that here. It wasn’t entirely human, but neither was it significantly animalistic. What stumped him was that he could detect different animal scents all close together. In all his years at the NNC, he had never smelled anything like it. The closest thing he could compare it to was his family’s scent, except he also smelled traces of dog and some prey animal.

Not wanting to draw attention to his suspicion, Mateo turned his focus back to talking about his web comic. “It’s called Mayathology,” he told his new companions. “All the characters are inspired by figures in Mezo-American folklore.”

“Especially jaguars, am I right?” asked a dragon with a knowing smile, indicating the sample art in Mateo’s hand that showed his Water Lily Jaguar character.

Mateo smiled back. “Well, the jaguars do have…significance for me.”

“It’s really well done,” commented the newbie raccoon. She sighed and fiddled with her tail. “Makes my stuff look like it was drawn by a drunk second-grader.”

“Hey, we’ve all got to start somewhere, and even I’m still learning.” Mateo gestured to the doors that were set to open any minute now so the panel attendees could take their seats. “That’s why I go to every art panel I can. I’m always finding new things to incorporate into my comic. Hell, I’m thinking of attending some animation panels while I’m here so I can put short videos on my website.”

“I would watch them,” the dragon said. “And if you ever need voice actors, especially for any flying serpents…” He waggled his eyebrows, which had been painted to look scaled.

“I’ll need your demo reel and a resume first,” Mateo replied with a cheeky grin.

“Better yet, you can check out some of my previous work.” Mateo and the dragon exchanged web info, including a list of animated shorts by other artists the dragon had done voice work for. The whole time, Mateo’s nose twitched as he tried to pinpoint the scent, which had only grown stronger. Whatever the source, it was close and staying close.

Over the chatter and general shuffle of costumes, the unlocking of the door was still audible. Most of the people in line turned their heads towards the sound, like a pack of pets perking up at the sound of food pouring into their dish. Members of the convention’s staff propped the doors open and instructed everyone to enter in an orderly manner. The panel attendees did so, although there was some pushing as people tried to take their preferred seats. To his relief, Mateo found a spot with a decent view in the second row.

The doors were closed once the room was full. The slight breeze the motion generated brought with it all the scents in the room. The hair on the back of Mateo’s neck stood on end when he noticed the unknown scents mixed in with the usual aroma of sweat stewing in fursuits. The only way it could be this strong among everything else was if the source was in the room with him.

Mateo turned around nonchalantly for two seconds, hoping to see something that would stand out, something that could give him an explanation. However, the problem with furry conventions was that how people presented themselves and how they smelled could be completely different. For all he knew, whoever—or whatever—this was could be behind any of the fursuit faces in the crowd. The only way he could know for sure would be to sniff each furson individually, and that would be rude without an invitation.

Not wanting to draw attention to himself, Mateo faced back to the front of the room. His curiosity nagged at him, but he often had to remind himself about the adage concerning cats and their curiosity. Instead, he hoped whatever he was smelling would keep to itself. The last thing he wanted was a stalker at the one place he felt safe.