By Maggie (RIP my last name, not that I was all that attached)
Maggie here, writing about the weird game I spent most of yesterday afternoon playing because it was a ton of fun, and I honestly think that all of us Earthlings could use something like that to wind down with from time to time. This is going to be part instructions, part just random ramblings about what any of this means. I''m bored, that second part is inevitable. You have been warned.
The Game Pieces
As the name suggests, the game is played with five ¡°arcs,¡± basically just any similarly-sized, horseshoe-shaped objects. I saw them made of everything from metal wires to clay to carved stone or wood or even what I¡¯m pretty sure was bone. I didn¡¯t ask where they got the bone. The arcs don¡¯t have standardized size or proportions, either. So long as all of the arcs used in a given match are ¡°close enough¡± by the standards of the players, everything is fine. This allows for all sorts of animals to play, from small rodents to large, hoofed creatures. Anyone with special needs regarding their body is encouraged to make, borrow, or otherwise obtain a set that works best for them.
The only other ¡°piece¡± of the game is something to create a dividing line between two sides of the play area. Literally anything will do, and it doesn¡¯t even have to be an object. My first games were played with a line in the dirt, and some prefer to mark the line with charcoal or chalk rather than carry anything bulkier. For physical objects, a simple length of twine will do, but some with poor eyesight or larger bodies need something more visible.
The Rules
This is where things get really interesting. The goal of the game is to have the most of the arcs on your side of the play area when there are no more moves left to take. And when I say ¡°the most of,¡± I don¡¯t mean the actual number of arcs, because they can be split across the dividing line. But rather, you win if more of the actual material is physically on your side. It sounds like a hassle, but with the Understanding we have, you just have to kinda stare at it for a few seconds with the intent of the rules in mind and the actual score will come to you. Dunno how our ¡°Attuned¡± folks will manage, but if you can¡¯t, then your opponent can, and you can generally trust people to be good sports about it.
The five arcs each start ¡°out of play,¡± set off to the side somewhere within reach, and then the players take turns placing and moving them, trying to take control. There are three types of moves you can make. You can: Place an arc, Slide an arc, or Flip an arc. Placing is self-explanatory, Sliding lets you reposition and/or rotate an arc, and Flipping lets you¡ flip them, but specifically across the exact mid-point of the arc. The key here is that you can only interact with arcs that are in contact with another arc (aside from the ones yet to be placed, of course), and that any arc you¡¯re Sliding has to be touching another arc for the entire movement.
Also you have to Place arcs touching, aside from the first
No. No. I¡¯m explaining this horribly. Screw it. I¡¯m drawing them now.
Place:
Slide:
Flip:
There. Enjoy my terrible foot-scribbles.
The final rule is a simple but important one. You can¡¯t move the arc your opponent just interacted with. This prevents stalemates and lets you force situations if you plan ahead.
But yeah, so you do these moves with the goal of having more on your side when there are no more moves to make, which is when all of the arcs have been Flipped away from the others and made impossible to interact with.
But Maggie, what does it all mean???
Asked no one Scratch that, Ink-Talon would probably ask. But I actually have thoughts on this! Strange, I know!
Apparently this game originates here in Darksoil, invented not too long after the founding of the city. Now, if you ask any of the natives what the game is meant to represent, they¡¯ll look at you like you¡¯re insane before just saying it represents itself. But I think that¡¯s just the symbolism being completely lost on them because they¡¯re not used to expressing things symbolically without it being Understood in a very direct, one-to-one way. I managed to get Sunny to Understand it after enough explaining and brainstorming, so I know they can, but just don¡¯t.
But think about this city. They built a very large settlement in the middle of what is basically a poisonous wasteland for what are effectively religious reasons. Resources, who controlled them, and how one could transport them would have been the most important things for people living here to learn. And that¡¯s exactly what this game is about. With how important context is in this society, I think this game might have been a reflection of the conflicts and struggles of the time, or maybe even some way to get the players in the right mindset to handle logistics.
That¡¯s all lost now, though, so it doesn¡¯t really matter. But it was going to bug me if I didn¡¯t take time to write it out, so now you have to deal with it.
Chapter 19: Checking it Out
¡°I don¡¯t think this is a good idea.¡± Quiet-Dream chittered quietly in Ink-Talon¡¯s ear as Black-Leap scampered into the room behind him to rejoin her yet-unaware sibling.
¡°Why not? The archivist says it needs my help, and I would like to help.¡± Ink-Talon shrugged and tilted his head.
¡°What could you possibly help with? They know we don¡¯t have any of their memories, right? And why would it need to be explained in private? The whole thing gives me a bad feeling. Besides¡¡± The squirrel shuddered. ¡°I¡¯ve been able to see that porcupine in my peripheral vision while we¡¯ve been talking. They¡¯ve been staring at me the whole time. Specifically me. And I can¡¯t tell why. Something¡¯s not right.¡±
¡°I¡¯ll be careful.¡± Ink-Talon gently bumped the nervous squirrel with a wing. ¡°But if there¡¯s some hidden agenda here, it¡¯s not going to go away if we ignore it. I want to find out what¡¯s happening.¡±
¡°Then¡ I¡¯m coming with you.¡± Quiet-Dream sighed. ¡°The kits should be sleeping for most of the afternoon, and the Guardians will keep them from going too far in the unlikely event they decide to wander.¡°
¡°Are you sure?¡± Ink-Talon tilted his head. The question was simple, but Quiet-Dream could easily read the implicit ¡°Because you¡¯re in rough shape and should rest¡± behind it. It was the way his gaze flicked from him, to his room, to the porcupine. He couldn¡¯t keep from expressing his concern, even if unconsciously.
¡°I¡¯ll be even more stressed out if I¡¯m just sitting here worrying about all of this,¡± the squirrel chirped. ¡°I¡¯m not going to improve if I¡¯m stewing in self-pity all the time.¡± And I want to find out more about this world, too, he added silently. If there was one thing he¡¯d realized since arriving at the College, it was that his aversion to educating himself was becoming actively harmful. On some level, he¡¯d still been in denial. Not of the fact that any of this was real, but of the idea that it would be up to him to learn, adapt, and adjust. Everyone was pouring so much effort into supporting him, the least he could do was take some initiative for once.
After explaining to Black-Leap where the two of them were going, they approached Archivist Sharp-Search and asked if Quiet-Dream could accompany them. The porcupine did not voice any protests, and began to lead the pair deeper into the College. All the while, they continued to keep an eye on the squirrel, and at this distance he could just barely tell that they were confused about something, but was deliberately obfuscating their intentions. Eventually, he¡¯d had enough.
¡°Is there something wrong with me, Archivist? Besides the obvious. You have been staring at me this entire time.¡±
¡°Not with you, at least not directly,¡± the porcupine whined, finally letting some amount of emotion slip. ¡°I exchanged extremely regular correspondence with Scholar Ink-Talon while it was assigned to Deep¡¯s End. I received frequent, detailed accounts of the research and day-to-day events going on there, and it always expressed a deep, passionate affection for Forager Keen-Ear. Enough for it to permanently relocate to Deep¡¯s End rather than return from its initial research trip.¡±
¡°The poetry I read on the wagon trip here was¡ definitely passionate,¡± Ink-Talon clicked in agreement, ¡°passionate¡± seeming to be an understatement.
¡°I had hoped that by seeing you, I would be able to Understand what exactly about Keen-Ear appealed to the Scholar.¡± The porcupine rattled their quills in apparent frustration. ¡°Unfortunately, I can not. Perhaps the Forager¡¯s personality was more to its liking? Or maybe its preference for rodents was more inclined towards nimbler paws and more precise teeth? Perhaps I should have more regularly filed down my claws...¡±
Am I being¡ assessed for sex appeal? Quiet-Dream tensed up as his thoughts raced between all of the various aspects of the idea that he really, really didn¡¯t want to deal with right now. All of a sudden, hanging back and stewing in self-pity was a lot more appealing.
¡°Though, I am curious how such things are for the two of you now, as your own predilections certainly must conflict with your new-¡±
¡°I think we should discuss something else, Archivist,¡± Ink-Talon interjected with a loud squawk. ¡°This is¡ a sensitive subject within an already sensitive subject.¡±
¡°I see. If you do not wish to think about it, I will not push you,¡± Sharp-Search grunted. ¡°Sorry.¡± They silently continued making their way down the hall and seemed sincere, but it was clear now that they were putting a lot of effort into not expressing their emotions when communicating.
¡°Are you okay?¡± Ink-Talon asked, silently prodding the squirrel with a wing once the porcupine was no longer looking.
¡°Yeah,¡± Quiet-Dream flicked his tail in response, finally letting out a breath he didn¡¯t realize he was holding. ¡°Well, no. But I¡¯ll be okay in a minute. Thanks for the save.¡±
¡°No problem. I don¡¯t need an automatic Understanding of things to tell that you were getting really uncomfortable, now that I know what to look for. You always tense up and the fur on your back stands up a bit when you¡¯re about to snap at someone.¡±
¡°I guess if this body is good for anything, it¡¯s expressing that stuff for me, because I¡¯ve never been good at cluing anyone in directly¡¡± The squirrel huffed, already emotionally exhausted. But it was true that in his old life, he would have just silently stood there and taken it until he exploded, completely ruining the interaction. No one ever came to his aid or bailed him out, because he never expressed his distress until it was too late. Not in any way that anyone could pick up on, anyway. But now¡ he did.
He¡¯d had an easier time communicating in this body than he¡¯d ever had in his old one. It¡¯d gotten him friends who had his back, and in the end, that had to count for something.
Eventually, the trio passed into a more heavily populated part of the College, the halls being built wider for a larger volume of people coming and going, as well as taller to accommodate those who needed the extra headroom. The variety of animals present was far greater than any of them had seen at Deep¡¯s End, where it had seemed that all of the residents were small and mobile for logistical reasons. Here, there were creatures ranging from antelope to tortoises to toads to an emu that may have just been the single most intimidating thing he had ever seen. Occasionally, someone would recognize who they were and stare, but no one approached or drew anyone else¡¯s attention to them.If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.
¡°Through here.¡± Sharp-Search gestured to the door to their right. One of the few actual solid doors to be found in the building. It was held in place with a string-operated latch, and what appeared to be a counterweight to close it behind them on the opposite side. ¡°Many of the materials in the archive are fragile, necessitating solid barriers to keep the climate somewhat more consistent,¡± the porcupine made a few oddly cute squeaks as they explained, having noticed Quiet-Dream pausing to examine the mechanism. It seemed they genuinely liked explaining things like this.
¡°So then building things like this is more a matter of expense and effort than ability?¡± Ink-Talon cawed.
¡°That, and ease of use,¡± the Archivist nodded as the door swung shut behind them. ¡°Different bodies often require different means of opening latches, and you can¡¯t easily provide one for everyone. Curtains suffer no such drawbacks, and are more than sufficient for visual dividers.¡±
It took a few moments for Quiet-Dream¡¯s eyes to adjust to the relative gloom of the archives. There were no skylights, and the lamps that lit the other rooms he¡¯d seen were covered in a polished metal hood that reflected their light downward but also lessened the light they could put out. The reasons were relatively obvious. Having an open-air hole in the ceiling was a bad idea for a library, as was open flame. It wasn¡¯t so dark that he couldn¡¯t see, at least, though he had no idea how the low light would impact ¡°reading.¡±
As for what there was to read, wooden boxes with openings on the side were stacked to form low walls of shelves. Each opening was covered by a lid, etched with a marking to indicate the general subject of what was contained within. Glancing around, Quiet-Dream spotted ¡°Darksoil¡¯s History,¡± ¡°Mammalian Biology,¡± and ¡°The Lost Lands¡± among others at various points around the room, as well as a whole row of boxes all labeled as ¡°Matters of Consensus,¡± whatever that meant.
¡°Okay, you¡¯ve got us alone,¡± the squirrel chattered, returning his attention to the Archivist. ¡°What, exactly, do you think Ink-Talon can help you with, as he is now? And why all the secrecy?¡±
¡°You may be able to help as well,¡± Sharp-Search said, undoing the hook holding one of the containers closed, letting gravity swing the lid open. Quiet-Dream couldn¡¯t see what its label was through the porcupine¡¯s quills. ¡°While some perspective on the former Ink-Talon¡¯s research would have been useful, what I actually want is the unique perspective you share.¡±
¡°The perspective of being¡ something else?¡± Ink-Talon croaked.
¡°The perspective of being somewhere else.¡± The Archivist awkwardly waddled backwards from the box, a bundle of scrolls cradled between their forelegs. ¡°As for the secrecy, this concerns a field of study that, while not strictly taboo, is seen as frivolous at best among the Lead Scholars. It would not reflect well upon my position to be pursuing it openly.¡± They made their way over to a wide cloth floor covering situated directly under the focused light from a trio of lamps where they deposited the scrolls, their forward bipedal waddle clearly well-practiced from doing this a great many times. ¡°What do you know of the Beacons?¡±
The term was familiar, but it took a few moments for either of them to place it.
¡°Oh! That¡¯s the¡ artifact that Darksoil was founded around, right? Something older than your recorded history.¡± Quiet-Dream recalled it first, and Ink-Talon nodded, though he was clearly trying to remember something else as well. ¡°And I guess there¡¯s more than one of them?¡±
¡°Five, to be precise, and they are indeed extremely old. Darksoil was founded by scholars interested in studying the one found here, and a great deal of effort was put into attempting to Understand it and its origins.¡± Sharp-Search was using their ¡°excited to explain¡± tone again, and Quiet-Dream couldn¡¯t help but find just how animated they got to be endearing. They were practically bouncing, shifting their weight between their left and right pairs of legs. ¡°At one point, several scholars decided that the most expedient course of action would be to Attune to the Beacon, though given its complexity the process could only be completed by the most long-lived of them. Unfortunately, those who did manage immediately found themselves overwhelmed to be in its presence for more than brief moments, and what they did manage to glean was¡. Not remotely useful. The Beacon was full of information. Information that it bombarded those Attuned to it with incessantly. None of it had any practical use, and most of it concerned things that made little sense without context of its origins.¡±
¡°And then the research was abandoned,¡± Ink-Talon clicked his beak to finish the story. ¡°It was decided that the impracticality of Attunement and the dangers to the Attuned simply weren¡¯t worth it.¡± After a few awkward moments of both Quiet-Dream and the Archivist staring at him, he added: ¡°The wagon ride here was boring. I read a lot. Didn¡¯t have context for why any of it was important, though.¡±
¡°Okay, but what does any of that have to do with us?¡± Quiet-Dream asked.
¡°What I have placed here are the recorded accounts of those who Attuned to the Beacon, the ¡®Beacon¡¯s Insight,¡¯ as well as the few writings of those who have tried to make sense of them. I have a theory that the Beacons and their Makers originate from somewhere beyond the Known World. And if the world you remember coming from truly does exist¡¡± The porcupine trailed off, much of their confidence having faded.
¡°You want us to read this and see if anything is familiar.¡± Quiet-Dream peeped. ¡°I would be happy to. If nothing else, maybe our personal contexts can give you a new approach?¡± He doubted that he¡¯d be able to make any sense of it, but this was exactly what he¡¯d come along to do: learn more about the world.
¡°Definitely.¡± Ink-Talon nodded. ¡°Where should we start?¡±
¡°Thank you.¡± Sharp-Search sighed in relief. ¡°The original Ink-Talon was the only one who entertained this line of questioning as anything other than a waste of effort, so I haven¡¯t been able to express these ideas to anyone in a long time.¡± They reached out and batted one of the scrolls over with a forepaw. ¡°These were the last observations Ink-Talon made on the subject before departing for Deep¡¯s End, and thus the most modern analysis of any of the Insight. I would start there.¡±
¡°Here, allow me,¡± Quiet-Dream chirped as he undid the fastener on the scroll with his forepaws. Even without thumbs, the task was far easier for him than it was for a bird. He pulled the edge back to unroll it, revealing an absolute mess of short, deliberate strokes made in black ink, a marking style his companion was doubtless familiar with already. Despite the sloppiness, the meaning came across clearly, as well as an underlying emotion: Curiosity.
The actual contents of the scroll, however, made the squirrel¡¯s heart skip a few beats.
¡°This is¡¡± He leaned on Ink-Talon for support, afraid to finish the thought, lest he open the floodgates for the billion questions raised.
¡°...Definitely familiar.¡± The crow finished it for him. ¡°I¡¯m pretty sure I know exactly what this is.¡±
There is an ancient story about a Scholar who dreamed that they were a butterfly, and when they awoke, wondered if they were really the Scholar, or actually the butterfly dreaming of being one. It is dismissed as nonsense, an entertaining idea sometimes used by the uneducated to cast doubt on objective truth. After all, if the Scholar were truly the butterfly, then the accounts read by others would have been from the butterfly¡¯s perspective, and the butterfly would be the historical figure on record.
There is a problem with this conclusion. That story is Insight from a Beacon, knowledge from its Makers, as is our knowledge of the arguments against it. We have always been the same as that butterfly, experiencing pieces of the lives of greater beings. And our existence is proof that those beings can be wrong.
Chapter 20: Long Ago and Far, Far Away
The Origins of the Beacon¡¯s Insight
Recorded by Ink-Talon
I¡¯m no scientist or historian, so I can¡¯t exactly do much of anything ¡°properly¡± when it comes to research like this, so I hope a plain list with comments and speculation is okay. The following are the pieces of Insight that Quiet-Dream and I have been able to identify, along with what we know of their origins in our world. There¡¯s a fair amount to go through, so I¡¯ll probably need to stop and come back later to make more additions.
- The Butterfly Dream (and associated discourse): This is a pretty famous story in our world. The philosopher in question lived a few thousand years before I was born and recorded the dream along with a bunch of other writings. It¡¯s a fun thought experiment to speculate on, but I can absolutely imagine other philosophers getting fed up with random people using it to claim that we can¡¯t know if anything actually exists.
- The Fable of the Mouse and the Lion: This is a similarly ancient story, credited to a storyteller whose name became synonymous with ¡°moralizing children¡¯s story.¡± I really like how confused the original maker of the records was, because not only is the moral extremely obvious, but the whole story is predicated on there being a danger of the lion eating the mouse, which simply wouldn¡¯t happen if the two were Gifted as they assumed.
- The White Obelisk: This one is harder to pin down definitively, since rather than being a complete story, it¡¯s just an image that was described and recorded as best they could. But a white stone obelisk with smooth sides and a tiny metal cap is probably a monument situated in the capital city of the nation I lived in. It was dedicated to the nation¡¯s first official leader¡ and that¡¯s about as much as I know about it. Didn¡¯t really care much for the country or its history, to be honest.
- An Eagle Lands on a Tranquil Sea: This one initially stumped us completely, because there¡¯s clearly some level of symbolism that got taken literally somewhere in this process, and what¡¯s described is just complete nonsense as a result. After coming back to it later, though, I think I¡¯ve figured out exactly what it was describing. It was the crew of a vessel named ¡°Eagle¡± that landed in a crater on the Moon that had been called ¡°The Sea of Tranquility¡± by astronomers. Now that I¡¯m actually writing this down, I realize that the entire idea sounds absurd out of context, but I assure you that our species actually made an effort to travel to a stellar body just to say we could. Multiple times. (Actually, does this world even have a moon? I can¡¯t recall seeing one, but I also haven¡¯t made a habit of staying up very long past sunset or stargazing as a crow¡)
¡°Hey, Quiet-Dream,¡± Ink-Talon croaked, looking up from his writing to address his companion. ¡°Did you spend much time looking at the night sky on the trip here?¡± The squirrel was busy staring at more of the records, gingerly using his paws to spread out the old parchment into an arrangement they could both easily read. The twitching of his ears indicated that he had very much heard Ink-Talon call out to him, but he didn¡¯t answer, his gaze fixed on what was in front of him. When he did finally speak, it wasn¡¯t to Ink-Talon.
¡°Archivist, exactly how old are these records?¡±
¡°As I said, they were recorded not long after the College¡¯s founding. Six hundred and eighty one years ago, to be precise.¡±
¡°...Oh.¡± The squirrel visibly tensed up and took a deep breath.
¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡± Ink-Talon stepped closer, taking care not to drip any ink on the records.
¡°This one is Star Wars.¡±
¡°What?¡±
¡°The record I¡¯m looking at is of Star Wars. A New Hope.¡±
¡°And? All of this Insight seems to be things of cultural significance rather than more practical knowledge. Star Wars fits. It just feels weird because it¡¯s so¡¡±
¡°Modern?¡± Quiet-Dream turned to look at the crow, his expression entirely unreadable. He was never this calm. ¡°That movie wasn¡¯t even forty years old last I remember, and yet they caught a glimpse of it here centuries ago. Even if years here turn out to be significantly shorter, it doesn¡¯t line up.¡±
¡°But then, that would mean-¡± Ink-Talon cut himself off, noticing something odd in what the squirrel just explained. ¡°Wait, not even forty? I could have sworn that it was over fifty years old. It was released in the 1970¡¯s, right?¡±
¡°1977, I think?¡± There was a long awkward silence as the pair tried to figure out how to approach the topic, or if they even wanted to. But eventually Ink-Talon gave up, just asking the obvious question rather bluntly.
¡°Quiet-Dream, what year was it for you when you were last human?¡±
¡°...2016,¡± the squirrel muttered, knowing full well what he was getting at.
¡°It was 2028, for me.¡±
The two returned to their silence. Ink-Talon couldn¡¯t tell how the squirrel was feeling about this, and that worried him. All he could do was brace himself for the inevitable explosion of emotion. Archivist Sharp-Search likewise gave them their space. He had no idea if the porcupine could grasp exactly what they had realized, but he appreciated the consideration regardless. He wasn¡¯t sure that any of the animals here were equipped to handle Quiet-Dream in a crisis. He barely was himself. However, the squirrel didn¡¯t explode. He didn¡¯t scream or cry or retreat inside himself.If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.
For what felt like the first time the crow could remember, Quiet-Dream relaxed.
¡°Surprised?¡± the squirrel chirped, flopping over onto his side, looking like he¡¯d just gotten done sprinting. ¡°I am too. This should be the most devastating news imaginable to me, and yet¡ I¡¯m relieved.¡±
¡°Why?¡±
¡°As long as there was ever the slightest chance of going home, of returning to my old body, I would have searched for it. I would have worried and researched and traveled and wasted the rest of my life searching for it. But if we¡¯re all displaced in time, if we¡¯re all from the distant past, and different points at that, then that¡¯s it. We¡¯re never going home. Not to the home we knew, at least. I don¡¯t have to worry about searching for a way to do it anymore.¡± Quiet-Dream froze for a moment and stared at Ink-Talon before rolling back onto his paws. ¡°You¡¯re not remotely shocked by that. You already knew, didn¡¯t you?¡±
¡°Not definitively, but¡ yeah.¡± The crow sighed, his gaze falling to the floor. ¡°Back after I lost my ¡®Gift¡¯ briefly from that crash landing, I realized something. Our minds, whatever we are as people, they¡¯re attached to this existence. I¡ stopped existing without the Gift of Understanding. I didn¡¯t have an out-of-body experience, I didn¡¯t have any experience. This consciousness, in this body, is all that I am. I realized we were never going home, because our minds can¡¯t travel elsewhere. If we leave, we¡ cease.¡±
¡°No wonder you leaned so hard into learning about this world. You were preparing for the rest of your life right from the start.¡±
¡°You¡¯re not angry that I kept this from you?¡±
¡°Do you honestly think I would have taken it well at that point?¡± Quiet-Dream reared up on his haunches, took a moment to catch his balance, and then hugged Ink-Talon, wrapping his little forelegs as far around his feathered body as he could manage, in the most distinctly human way he could manage. ¡°The hope of this being temporary was basically all that kept me going initially. You made the right choice. Thanks.¡±
What do I do here? Ink-Talon froze upon receiving the sudden display of appreciation, and had to walk himself through what was even going on. Obviously he was happy that Quiet-Dream had finally obtained some manner of solace in their situation, even if it was bittersweet, but¡ Do I return the hug? Is that too intimate, implying a romantic connection I don¡¯t feel? I¡¯m so much larger than him. Would just tucking him under my wing like the kits come off as patronizing? Is just snuggling closer less intimate than an embrace, or more? How am I supposed to parse any of this with such different bodies and no Understanding of the nuances?
¡°Hey.¡± Quiet-Dream released him and stumbled a bit before dropping back onto all fours. ¡°You¡¯re fine, don¡¯t worry. But¡¡± The squirrel shuffled back a step and looked up. He was about to point out something awkward. ¡°When you¡¯re working through a problem like that, you open and close your beak in such a way that anyone who looks at you can Understand exactly what you¡¯re thinking.¡±
¡°Oh,¡± Ink-Talon cringed, immediately fluffing up out of embarrassment. ¡°Oh no.¡± He¡¯d always mouthed things to himself like that as a human. It helped him process his thoughts better. He hadn¡¯t considered that he¡¯d held on to the habit despite it both no longer being private and also being rendered useless otherwise. ¡°Have I been doing that the whole time?¡±
¡°Pretty much, yes.¡±
¡°And you never told me?¡±
¡°You were always thinking through something important, so I didn¡¯t want to bother you.¡± Quiet-Dream sat down and awkwardly scratched behind his head with a forepaw, only barely able to reach the itch if he craned and twisted his neck thanks to his seeming unwillingness to use his hind legs for that. ¡°This time was silly, though, so it was fair game.¡± He finally got the spot and let out a relieved sigh. ¡°Also, for what it¡¯s worth, I wouldn¡¯t have felt patronized if you had just draped a wing over me. We¡¯ve got to work with the bodies we¡¯ve got, right?¡±
¡°I apologize for interrupting, but¡¡± a tentative squeak from nearby reminded the former humans that they were not alone in the room. ¡°You just discovered a lot of important things that I will need to record and share with the Scholars, but I have a more pressing question for you, Quiet-Dream.¡± Archivist Sharp-Search waddled closer, and Ink-Talon couldn¡¯t tell if the porcupine was concerned or curious. ¡°You expressed earlier that the hope of returning to your home sustained you. What sustains you now?¡±
¡°That¡¯s supposed to be pressing?¡± Quiet-Dream stared dumbfounded at the Archivist, though even Ink-Talon could tell that the question had caught him off-guard. A familiar discomfort had already started to creep back into his stance.
¡°It is pressing because your well being matters. If not to yourself, then to Ink-Talon.¡± Sharp-Search¡¯s eyes focused on the crow as she mentioned him, though he got the feeling that it was talking about its old partner instead. ¡°Lacking a reason to live is dangerous.¡±
¡°Oh,¡± Quiet-Dream chirped out a tense response before taking a deep breath, managing to release that tension before it caused a problem. ¡°I haven¡¯t really thought about it, but¡¡± The squirrel closed his eyes to think, and kept thinking for at least a minute. Sharp-Search simply watched patiently, but Ink-Talon couldn¡¯t help but feel more concerned with each passing moment.
¡°Let it think.¡± Sharp-Search silently waved a paw at the crow, having noticed his discomfort. ¡°You do not have anything to worry about.¡±
If you say so. Ink-Talon was at a loss. Such a sudden change in attitude didn¡¯t seem right. But then again¡ was it so sudden? Quiet-Dream had just quietly resigned himself to suffer at some point in these last few days, or at least, that was his impression. Having some of the uncertainty of it all removed must have given him a new perspective on things. Maybe this moment of clarity was what he needed to really start to sort things out? He could only hope.
¡°I¡ still want to go home,¡± Quiet-Dream finally murmured his answer, opening his eyes and looking at Ink-Talon. ¡°I want all of us to be able to go home. But since we don¡¯t have a home to go back to anymore, we need to find a home. To make a home.¡± As he explained, a newfound confidence overtook his expressions, and he began to gesture with a surprising amount of energy. ¡°And I do mean all of us. All of the humans who have found their way here. Me, you, Maggie, Song, the bat, even the kits, they count too. But also the ones we haven¡¯t met yet. Because there¡¯s more than just us, right? We already know about at least one, and we all seemed to have popped up along the border of the Lost Lands around the same time. That place is huge. How many more of us are out there, just as lost and confused, and possibly in even worse situations? I¡ want to find them. To help them, like we¡¯ve helped each other.¡± Turning to Sharp-Search, he added, ¡°How¡¯s that for a reason to live?¡±
Chapter 21: Sides of the Same Coin
¡°Please tilt your head upward as far as you are able to.¡± A new series of soft taps on her back delivered the instructions, and Song dutifully followed them, though ¡°as far as she was able to¡± ended up only being about twenty five degrees or so by her estimate. She was laying on the floor of the bathhouse, getting her injuries looked over by a Physician who had been sent to examine her. It was not a good time
¡°Everything look okay?¡± She asked by tapping her single front foot on the ground. Her nerves must have made the question feel quite impatient, because the response was swift and terse.
¡°I am not finished yet.¡± Another series of taps, followed by a gentle prodding of the top of her head, feeling over its contours and what remained of the head wound she had suffered upon waking up in this body. She couldn¡¯t help but squirm at the touch, but not because it was painful. ¡°Please hold still, I will be done soon.¡±
¡°Sorry¡¡± The salamander took a deep breath, a somewhat awkward action for an animal that could often go for days without using its lungs. But at least the weirdness was distracting.
¡°It is almost completely healed, minimal scar tissue, likely owing to your regenerative capabilities. I am going to examine your leg next.¡±
Song couldn¡¯t help but tense up as the Physician climbed off of her back. She knew that they were here to help her, but however much her mind had been scrambled in all of this, it had done nothing to curb her arachnophobia, and it turned out that the one Physician in this city best equipped to assess more exotic animals for the region was a tarantula with a leg-span about a fourth of the size of her entire body. She, or rather Stream-Drifter, remembered something about a handful of arachnid species being large enough on average to typically be Gifted. This did not make her feel any better.
For once, she was happy to be nearly blind. The blurry brown shape entering the periphery of her vision wasn¡¯t as panic-inducing as it otherwise would have been. The sensation of their eight legs crawling and tapping all over her skin, on the other hand, was something out of her worst nightmares.
¡°Is something causing you discomfort?¡± the spider asked, gently nudging her side once they were back on the floor. ¡°Please, I need to know about any problems you are experiencing.¡±
¡°You are.¡± Song shuffled away an inch or so, accidentally expressing her issue in the bluntest possible manner. ¡°Not that it¡¯s your fault!¡± she quickly clarified, swishing her tail across the floor nervously. ¡°I just¡ have an irrational fear of spiders. Sorry.¡±
¡°Is this a recent development?¡± the Physician asked, taking to waving their front legs where she could see them instead.
¡°No. This is something I struggled with in my¡ previous life as well.¡±
¡°In that case, there is nothing irrational about it.¡± When Song simply stared blankly at them, they continued. ¡°Such a fear is unthinking. It is neither rational nor irrational, because your reasoning does not perpetuate it. It simply is.¡± The salamander wasn¡¯t sure she agreed with that statement, but she appreciated the sentiment.
¡°Still. You¡¯re an actual person trying to help me, and I¡¯m reacting with fear and disgust like you¡¯re some kind of vermin. It¡¯s wrong.¡±
¡°Is it? You assume that you are the only creature experiencing such things. I still have to suppress the urge to run and hide whenever I catch the shadow of a bird flying overhead, despite the fact that I have not encountered a predatory feral bird in years. This is not as uncommon as you seem to believe.¡±
¡°...Who are you, exactly?¡± Song hissed uneasily. Something was off. ¡°You¡¯re talking like a psychologist, not a physician. My injuries aren¡¯t the only things you¡¯re here to examine, are they?¡±
¡°You are certainly quick to realize that,¡± The spider¡¯s movements remained kindly in outward expression, even as they confessed to duplicity. ¡°I have found that it is difficult to accurately assess someone¡¯s state of mind if it knows it is being assessed. You are clearly observant and lucid, though, so I can be more direct from now on.¡±
¡°Then I¡¯d appreciate it if you could start by answering the question.¡± The salamander clenched her jaw. Few things made her angrier than someone simply pretending to be kind.
¡°I am Physician Many-Journeys, and I concern myself with psychosomatics. Surely you can see why the conditions of you and the others would be of keen interest to me.¡± The spider froze for a few moments, as if they were considering how to continue. ¡°I know that you may find it difficult to trust me, but I do take my role seriously. What I learn here will be recorded and shared with Scholars and Physicians across the Known World, providing invaluable insight into how our minds and bodies interact. So if you can allow me to continue the examination, I will-¡±
¡°Get out.¡± Song¡¯s tail thudded on the floor to make her point.
¡°Please be reasonable, you are not-¡±
¡°I told you to get out.¡± The salamander snapped her jaws in the spider¡¯s direction, making it clear she would not tolerate any further arguments from them. She didn¡¯t need large teeth to make a threat.
¡°...If you insist.¡± The spider scuttled out the front door of the bathhouse, indignant at their treatment but knowing better than to push their luck. Finally, Song was alone.
It was necessary, she reassured herself, taking an inventory of her body to try and calm down. Every squishy, slimy part of her was where it was ¡°supposed¡± to be. Even her severed leg seemed to have the beginnings of a replacement, though it would be some time before it was usable. She was starting to feel a little sticky, though, and decided to slide herself back into the bath before it became particularly unpleasant. As she submerged herself in the too-small tub, something about the interaction continued to eat at her.This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.
Song busied herself with some simple maintenance of the space to take her mind off of things. The water in the tub needed to be changed regularly, both for sanitary reasons, and also because she would deplete the oxygen from it after long enough. It was a pretty simple process, thankfully. A sliding ceramic tile on the bottom of the tub covered the drain, and she was able to nudge it open with her snout with a bit of effort. Once it was emptied and re-plugged, a lever near the rim raised another cover, this one on the gravity-fed pipe that filled the basin. It was positioned such that she could push on it with her heavy tail without needing to climb out of the tub, the discovery of which had both made her feel like a genius and made the entire process way, way easier.
The cool, fresh water pouring over her from this spout was by far the most pleasant part of her day. As a human, it would have just been kinda nice or annoyingly cold, depending on the temperature. But as a salamander? It was downright euphoric, like she was being reinvigorated as the weight of the world was lifted from her. She supposed that on some level, it literally was. Still, even as she finally began to relax, a question kept repeating in the back of her mind. Should I have been more trusting of the spider?
The ¡°kind¡± answer would have been ¡°of course,¡± to give a stranger the benefit of the doubt because they could actually help, even if they seemed more concerned with research than actually helping. But there was nothing ¡°kind¡± about treating her like some sort of laboratory specimen to be studied, nor lying about their motives. She refused to respond to deception with kindness. Her principles were one of the few things she had left, sullying them was not an option.
Whose principles are they, though? The question shattered her self-assurance the moment it occurred to her. Carol¡¯s, or the salamander¡¯s? She had tried to avoid thinking about her human name ever since Maggie had managed to guess it, but there was no avoiding it here. She needed to sort this conflict, or else she wouldn¡¯t be able to stop worrying about it.
She had decided the day before that swift acceptance of her reality would be the simplest solution going forward, especially with how limited she was physically. She would hold onto whatever she could while embracing the new. Fighting it would only lead to pain. Thus, her identity solidified. ¡°Song¡± was an amalgam. Still mostly human, but enough of her was Stream-Drifter rather than Carol that she couldn¡¯t rightly think of herself that way. She was quickly learning, however, that ¡°simplest¡± didn¡¯t necessarily mean ¡°actually simple.¡±
She strongly felt that she could not afford to trust anyone who wouldn¡¯t be truthful with her, anyone who wouldn¡¯t trust her in kind. But she also felt that she should give people a chance unless they display outright malice. The former had won out initially, but the latter was nagging at her about doing the ¡°wrong¡± thing. Two sets of principles, from two sources. Obviously, she would just end up doing what she decided to be best at a given time, but that wasn¡¯t the problem here. The problem was that she couldn¡¯t tell which inclination came from which life. She could recall instances of her acting on both inclinations, but the details escaped her. All she could find were vibes and the knowledge that she believed both ideas, despite them obviously being contradictory. She¡¯d hoped to have been better able to identify what came from where, but if she was already unable to be certain where these ideas came from, then things were worse than she thought. And then there was the potential Worst Case Scenario.
This conflict was mostly benign, but what if something more fundamental was split like that? What if multiple things were like that? How was she supposed to handle her psyche getting pulled apart by mutually exclusive morals and worldviews? Especially if she had trouble telling what even informed them or what picking one over the other would be sacrificing? Of course, that wasn¡¯t anywhere close to happening yet. But it hadn¡¯t even been a possibility until now.
A familiar set of vibrations in the water alerted Song to the bathhouse door scraping open a little, and she poked her head above the water, hoping whoever just arrived would provide a pleasant distraction to the nonsense in her head.
¡°Is that you, Swift-Paw? Took you long enough. Turns out that spider was-¡±
¡°Is Swift-Paw gone?¡± A tiny squeak that most certainly didn¡¯t belong to the raccoon interrupted Song. It was Quiet-Dream¡¯s kit, the one that had just started talking that morning.¡±Do you know when she¡¯ll be back? We wanted to ask her a question.¡±
¡°Swift-Paw stepped out to get us some food. I don¡¯t know when they¡¯ll be back.¡± Song tapped out her message cautiously, unsure of how to interact with the child. ¡°Wait, ¡®we?¡¯ Is your¡ mother with you?¡±
¡°No, Mother Quiet-Dream is with Ink-Talon. A porcupine wanted their help. My sibling is here with me.¡±
¡°Oh. Of course.¡± She didn¡¯t know what to make of that, but everything was kinda crazy for all of them. It was probably fine, but just in case... ¡°Well¡ come on in. I wouldn¡¯t want you waiting outside all alone.¡±
¡°We weren¡¯t alone. That angry lizard is watching us. I don¡¯t want to wait outside with them either.¡±
Two blurry shapes entered the room, the darker of the two clearly in the lead, with the lighter gray one sticking close behind. They wandered over to drink some water from one of the nearby openings in the piping, and several minutes of awkward silence passed before the black one spoke up again.
¡°My name is Black-Leap! I keep forgetting to tell people that!¡± Black-Leap scampered over to Song, coming snout-to-snout with the salamander as they introduced themselves. ¡°But now you know!¡±
¡°It¡¯s a good name. Who picked it?¡± Song shifted a bit uncomfortably. She was making small talk with a being barely old enough to eat solid foods. Was this normal? Should she treat them like a human child? She¡¯d have to just improvise.
¡°I named myself!¡± The kit posed proudly, their movement revealing the gray kit hovering behind them. It was hard to make out with her eyesight, but it seemed¡ annoyed? It certainly wasn¡¯t happy, that¡¯s for sure.
¡°Is your sibling okay?¡± Song asked, moving a little bit to get a better look, only for the young squirrel to likewise reposition to conceal itself.
¡°No. It¡¯s why we wanted to see Swift-Paw. Mother wouldn¡¯t know what to do. He would just worry.¡±
¡°True enough,¡± the salamander nodded. Quiet-Dream seemed to be an extremely anxious person, probably even before ending up in this situation if Song had to guess. The kit had a good read on him. ¡°Is it something I could help with?¡±
¡°Maybe.¡± Black-Leap paused, as if waiting for confirmation on something. ¡°My sibling has been able to Understand itself since two days ago, back on the wagon. It didn¡¯t tell anyone, and only made itself known to me after Mother left today.¡±
¡°But that¡¯s a good thing, right? Why the secrecy?¡±
¡°Because I don¡¯t like being aware.¡± The gray kit peeped, its barely audible voice conveying a strange mix of anger and terror. ¡°I want to go back to sleep.¡±
All Song could do was stare blankly and blink a few times, entirely stunned by the sentiment but on some level easily able to comprehend it. It struck her as familiar, but she couldn¡¯t quite grasp what Stream-Drifter knew of it, if they even did. Eventually, though, she squeaked out a response.
¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡±
Unfortunately, it wasn¡¯t a very helpful one.
Chapter 22: You are Yourself
¡°I apologize ahead of time about the quality of your food,¡± Scribe Swift-Paw said, setting down a cloth bundle and unwrapping it to reveal several freshly cut strips of raw meat. ¡°You are a carnivore, so this should be suitable, but it is rather different from your usual diet of fish and aquatic arthropods. The Dieticians are going to attempt and procure something you are more familiar with from the next caravans bound for our home.¡±
¡°It¡¯s¡ certainly different.¡± Song nudged the meat with her snout, cringing at it for reasons Black-Leap couldn¡¯t quite figure out. ¡°Where did they get this?¡±
¡°Feral bison roam the plains not too far from here. Hunting groups are regularly dispatched to bring some back to help feed the local carnivores. Mice and moles are also raised as livestock for smaller species, given their rapid reproduction and Darksoil¡¯s abundance of grains from nearby farms. I can ask for some of those next time, if you would prefer eating something whole.¡±
¡°No!¡± Song shuddered at that, and this time even Black-Leap was struck by the image. There was barely any physical difference between herself and a mouse, as far as she could tell, meaning she was friends with something that could eat her. She wasn¡¯t sure what to make of that. ¡°No need to go that far. I¡¯ll make do with this.¡± The salamander tentatively took up a slice of meat in her jaws and hesitated briefly before gulping it down, clearly not happy with the sensation of it. ¡°Tastes okay at least. Could really use some seasonings.¡± As she moved on to the rest of her meal, Swift-Paw turned her attention to the kits.
¡°It is certainly a surprise to see you here, little ones, but not an unpleasant one. Can I help you with something?¡±
Black-Leap took the lead again, explaining everything she had explained to Song earlier. As she got to explaining her sibling¡¯s plight, the Scribe¡¯s posture visibly drooped.
¡°That is¡¡± Swift-Paw trailed off at first, stopping to rethink her response before starting over. ¡°Such pain is not unheard of, but I have not known anyone to suffer from it myself. Why do you feel this way?¡±
¡°Everyone is hurting. I don¡¯t know why.¡± Her sibling finally spoke up, its voice a trembling murmur. ¡°I didn¡¯t know about it before. I don¡¯t like knowing about it.¡± Black-Leap nuzzled the kit, trying to comfort it in any way she could. She was aware of the pain around them, certainly, but there had been a¡ sort of hopefulness about things recently. She couldn¡¯t explain it, though. Maybe it was just in her mind.
¡°This hurt is temporary,¡± the raccoon chattered, lowering herself to the floor to look the distraught squirrel in the eyes. ¡°Your entire life thus far is just a fraction of what you will experience. These two days of hurt have been all you know, but they are not all there is. I promise.¡± The kit¡¯s posture grew just a little hopeful as it considered the idea.
¡°Besides,¡± Song chimed in with a small splash, having flicked the water behind her with her tail. ¡°not everyone is struggling.¡±
¡°You¡¯re hurting,¡± the gray kit squeaked, its mood immediately returning to where it had been. ¡°So are you.¡± It placed a diminutive paw on the raccoon¡¯s nose.
¡°...Only temporarily.¡± Swift-Paw repeated itself, drawing back from the kit, though Black-Leap could tell she was unsure. Even Song visibly flinched at the statement. ¡°...Are you hurting? Not from others, but from yourself?¡± This seemed to get at the heart of things, and it took a while for the kit to respond.
¡°I remember something. From before I was aware. Recent. Right before the first time I opened my eyes.¡± It closed its eyes, as if trying to recreate that time. ¡°Mother Quiet-Dream was angry at himself. All the noise scared me, and stuck in my memory. I Understood it once I was aware. He said his body was ¡®a prison.¡¯ I¡¯m shaped the same. Am I trapped, too?¡±
¡°No!¡± Black-Leap squealed, surprising even herself with the outburst. But she couldn¡¯t just stand there and watch. Not when the problem was this¡ stupid. Her sibling was wrong, and she needed to tell it. ¡°Look at me! You¡¯re like me! Am I trapped?¡±
¡°...Maybe?¡± The kit curled up on the floor, trying to make itself as small as possible. ¡°Am I like you, or are you like me?¡±This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.
¡°I¡¯m me, and you¡¯re you. But we¡¯re both different-than-different. Mother is only different.¡±
¡°...Should we stop them?¡± Song gestured at Swift-Paw, catching Black-Leap¡¯s attention in her periphery. ¡°They¡¯re talking in circles of nonsense.¡±
¡°This is normal,¡± the raccoon murmured. ¡°Let them, they have to work through it.¡±
¡°Right! We¡¯re working through it!¡± Black-Leap declared, pouncing on her sibling in a forceful attempt to get its attention. ¡°I decided to be Black-Leap, you also get to decide to be things! I¡¯m not going to let you decide to be sad, because that¡¯s stupid!¡±
¡°I choose not choosing!¡± Her sibling squirmed around, reversing the grapple and biting her ear.
¡°Wrong choice!¡±
¡°My choice!¡±
¡°Choose better!¡±
¡°I choose for you to stop!¡±
¡°You can¡¯t!¡±
¡°Why not?¡±
¡°Because it¡¯s my choice!¡±
Black-Leap disengaged briefly and locked eyes with her sibling. They were both breathing heavily, hackles raised, poised to continue the battle. She wasn¡¯t going to back down, though. She was going to make it choose something not-stupid, no matter what.
¡°Ready to give up giving up?¡±
¡°Make me!¡±
So Black-Leap did what she did best. She leapt.
¡°They¡¯re¡ really going at it. You sure it¡¯s okay?¡± All Song could see from where she was standing was a whirling ball of black and gray tumbling across the floor, but the squeaks and growls made what was going on more than obvious enough.
¡°What they¡¯re fighting over is odd, but yes. Children will fight, especially ones that develop so fast in close proximity.¡± Swift-Paw chattered casually, clearly unconcerned. Noticing that the salamander was still bothered, they quickly added: ¡°Think of it like a debate.¡±
¡°It¡¯s so¡ violent, though. Won¡¯t they get hurt?¡±
¡°At worst, they may come away from it with a few scratches. They aren¡¯t fighting to survive.¡± The raccoon regarded Song with an unusual curiosity. ¡°Did you not have siblings you fought with?¡±
¡°I fought with my brothers all the time when I was growing up.¡± Song swished her tail as she reminisced, unable to shake an odd, uneasy feeling towards the memory that she couldn¡¯t figure out the origin of. ¡°But if any of us ever physically hit one another, our parents would punish us. We learned to stick to vocal arguments and insults pretty quick.¡±
¡°I see¡¡± It was clear from Swift-Paw¡¯s demeanor that they did not like what they just heard, but they declined to pry further, letting the conversation end in awkward silence.
¡°Oh, actually,¡± Song perked up, realizing that she could actually try and sort something out. ¡°Swift-Paw, would you have described Stream-Drifter as forgiving, or trusting?¡±
¡°Only of those who earned it. You¡ Stream-Drifter is infamously bad at talking to strangers.¡± The Scribe examined Song closely, considering something. ¡°Song, why did you ask about that?¡±
The salamander explained what had happened while they were gone, about the spider, and the way she had treated them. And then after she was done, Swift-Paw did something strange. They laughed. It wasn¡¯t literal laughter, it was more like a long, drawn-out sigh, but it carried the same meaning. She¡¯d just done something funny.
¡°That is absolutely the Stream-Drifter I know. Especially the part where you threatened to eat the Physician.¡±
¡°That¡¯s one mystery solved, at least.¡± Song tapped the floor, not entirely sure how she felt about that. There was something melancholy about the idea that the part of her she knew the least about was so strongly dominant in a conflict. ¡°I¡ felt opposite ways about what happened, and I couldn¡¯t tell whose impulses were whose. I know I¡¯m not entirely one person or the other, but I¡¯d hoped I¡¯d be able to¡ keep the parts distinct if a conflict like that ever happened.¡± Song¡¯s rumination was cut short when she felt something fuzzy press up against her side, as Swift-Paw had settled down next to the salamander without her noticing.
¡°Would you like to know more about Stream-Drifter?¡± The raccoon was quite warm, something she realized she had taken for granted as a mammal. She hadn¡¯t felt proper warmth since ending up like this. ¡°It could help you better distinguish these things, and I would like to keep its memory intact. It deserves to be remembered.¡±
¡°I¡¯d like that, thanks.¡±
¡°Stream-Drifter was feral-born, having hatched just barely outside the borders of the Lost Lands¡¡± As Swift-Paw began their tale, their chattering caught the attention of the squabbling kits, who had tired themselves out enough to stop fighting and just lay on top of each other in a tangled heap. They quickly untied themselves and turned to listen, bringing the size of the audience up to a respectable three. ¡°It did not like to talk about its youth, for obvious reasons, insisting that its life began when it first discovered other Gifted creatures living nearby. At the time, I was just a kit myself¡¡±
Chapter 23: Thought Experiments
¡°Their requests are to be denied. All of them.¡± Lead Guardian Rooted-Place grunted its disapproval, not even bothering to look Golden-Streak in the eye as it delivered its judgment.
¡°All of them?¡± the leopard rumbled. It had expected the Lead Guardian to be harsh, but not this harsh. ¡°I understand that examining the Beacon is out of the question, but the others-¡±
¡°Diverting a supply caravan to address dietary preferences, not necessities, is wasteful.¡± The large tortoise stamped a heavy foot on the wooden platform, making a loud enough thump to interrupt its subordinate. ¡°Allowing them unmonitored movement within the city is an unnecessary risk. The fact that they have to conform to the schedules of volunteer Seekers and Guardians willing to accompany them is immaterial, they will simply have to make do. As for joining the search for the fugitive¡¡± Rooted-Place finally turned to look Golden-Streak in the eye. ¡°You must be a fool not to find that suspicious.¡±
¡°Forgive me, but you have not even seen them, much less conversed with them,¡± Golden-Streak protested, its tail lashing about in frustration. ¡°If you did, you would immediately be able to tell that none of the five of them are a threat, or hold any ill intent.¡±
It had been five days since the afflicted creatures had arrived. After the second, Golden-Streak had been approached by Quiet-Dream with a request. It wanted to find any other afflicted wandering the wilderness, and provided a rather reasonable explanation for the assumption that there were even more out there to begin with. But obviously, all of them were to be kept under strict surveillance at all times, and rather than ask to simply be let go, it made the far more reasonable offer that some of them accompany Seekers in their search for the more violent individual of their kind that had yet to be apprehended. Unfortunately, the Lead Guardian had set up incredibly entrenched bureaucratic procedures to deter citizens from approaching it with non-emergencies. This meeting had been in the works for several days now.
¡°If I have learned anything in the eighty years I have cared for this city, it is that a creature is at its most dangerous when it has your full attention.¡± The tortoise took a few steps forward. ¡°We are empathetic beings. It is the nature of our Gift. We experience, we Understand, and we feel. When we converse with another creature, we are inclined to feel for them, to believe them, because Understanding does not lie. But people do not always express the truth.¡±
¡°We have been watching them for days, and have a multitude of accounts from those who found them, do you truly believe them to be lying?¡± Golden-Streak had never been angry at its superiors before, but right now it desperately wanted to swipe at its head with a forepaw, to try to get it to see sense. It flexed its paws, extending and retracting its claws repeatedly in a bid to keep its cool.
¡°No, I do not.¡± Rooted-Place made the statement as if it should be obvious. ¡°But there is a kind of person who will express falsehoods without lying: Someone who truly, sincerely believes everything it expresses, no matter how wrong, because its perception of reality is incorrect. In some ways they are even more dangerous than a liar. Delusional creatures cannot be predicted, and are a danger to themselves and others. Their sincerity leads others to trust them, to become attached to them, and when the strain of their condition finally causes them to break¡¡± The tortoise drew a foreleg into its shell, causing that corner of it to slam down for emphasis. ¡°Their actions may harm far more than themselves.¡±
¡°What do you propose we do, then? Keep them confined and isolated for the rest of their lives?¡±
¡°I do not intend to treat them so cruelly. With any luck, they can be cured of their condition and return to their former lives. And with regards to that¡¡± the Lead Guardian gestured to its assistant, a very timid lemur, directing it to fetch a note from a nearby shelf. The quality of the paper and the distinctive feather-brushed markings immediately identified it as being from the Lead Scholar. ¡°We¡¯ve been given instructions for a potential treatment. If Delving-Thought¡¯s theory holds, this method will either correct their delusions or else produce vital information about their nature, provided it is executed properly. I would like you to assist in performing it.¡±
¡°I do not think that any of them want to be cured,¡± Golden-Streak pawed at the floor nervously. The only reason Guardians would be involved in the ¡°treatment¡± would be if Rooted-Place expected resistance. ¡°Whatever has happened to them, their current identities and memories feel real to them. Excising them is¡ killing them.¡±
¡°Very well, let us entertain the notion.¡± The sheer condescension contained in the tortoise¡¯s expressions caught the leopard off-guard. It truly thought this line of reasoning was foolish. ¡°If we pretend that these personalities are their own people, and that their erasure is their death, then what of the lives that they erased? Each of them would have killed the creature that previously inhabited their bodies. Through no choice of their own, perhaps, but even accidental killings require justice. However, their deaths may yet be undone, which is a far more effective justice than anything as low as retribution or revenge.¡±
¡°You want to trade one life for another.¡±
¡°No. I would never want to do that, even if I believed that I was. I often sincerely wish that no creature in this world would ever have to do that. But we are Guardians. We act to preserve the lives of others, and sometimes that requires making a choice of who lives and who dies. You know this. If you can only save one person out of two, who do you save?¡±
An ugly feeling gnawed at the leopard¡¯s conscience as it contemplated the question. It knew the answer, of course. It knew it agreed. But as Rooted-Place said, this is something that no person should ever want to do. No matter how correct or right it was, it would always feel wrong.
¡°All else being equal, you act on instinct. You make a snap judgment of who you value more and save them, because inaction may result in losing both.¡±
¡°And who do you value more? These strangers, who may not even be real, or the citizens that you took up the role of Guardian to protect?¡±
It knew the answer, but it wasn¡¯t either of those. Scholar Ink-Talon had been its friend. Golden-Streak just wanted its friend back.
¡°I take it back. I am not ready to try this.¡± A nervous series of squeaks echoed from the tiny window in the wall separating the bat¡¯s room from the central courtyard. A series of wooden blocks formed a makeshift set of stairs that the bat could use to ascend or descend from the ground, but right now they were working on an alternative. ¡°There has to be a way to learn this without risking my life.¡±
¡°You¡¯re not risking your life,¡± Ink-Talon cawed back up from the ground outside. ¡°We¡¯ve laid out plenty of blankets for padding, and the fall isn¡¯t far enough to hurt you anyway. The neat thing about being small is that we really don¡¯t hit the ground that hard unless we fall for quite a distance or were already moving fast for some other reason.¡±Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.
¡°And you¡¯re absolutely sure that this is the right way? Didn¡¯t Black-Leap suggest this a few days back? She¡¯s just a kid.¡±
So were you, last time I checked. Ink-Talon would have chuckled if he was capable, but the bat¡¯s ears almost certainly would have picked up on it, so he was glad that he couldn¡¯t. ¡°Turns out her instincts were pretty close. There¡¯s a whole ton of medical and biology texts in the library, it wasn¡¯t too hard to track down information on bats. Your wing muscles aren¡¯t strong enough to get you airborne from a standing position like a bird¡¯s. You need to start by falling and turn that momentum into lift. It¡¯s why bats hang from things.¡±
¡°Okay. Okay. I¡¯m working up to it¡¡±
¡°Ink-Talon?¡± A familiar growl nearly made the crow leap out of his feathers. ¡°I apologize, I always forget that you are not used to my presence.¡± Guardian Golden-Streak crouched down as best it could to reduce its profile and get closer to eye-level with the bird. Unfortunately, all this did was make it look like it was coiling up in preparation to pounce. ¡°I need your help with an important matter, if you are willing to accompany me.¡±
¡°I would be, but I¡¯m in the middle of something important,¡± Ink-Talon clicked his beak, turning around so that he didn¡¯t have to look directly at the crouching predator. There was always something¡ desperate about its interactions with him. It was far from the first of the animals at the college to express that it had been close with his body¡¯s original occupant. Scholar Ink-Talon had apparently been popular, as well as extremely open and physically affectionate with a great number of people, intimately so in several cases. But typically their interactions with him in the present were mournful at worst, and just kinda wistful or nostalgic more often than not. Golden-Streak was an outlier in that regard. Even his dulled perception could pick up on the leopard struggling to remind itself that the Scholar was gone and that the person that replaced it was not to blame. ¡°Are you willing to wait for a day-phase? I promised my friend here that I¡¯d help them learn how to use their wings.¡±
¡°Actually, I think I might be able to do this easier if you aren¡¯t watching,¡± the bat chirped, sticking their head out the window. ¡°I have all the tips I can get from you, and I¡¯m definitely going to fail a bunch of times. I¡¯ll feel better if the only person watching that is the Seeker on the roof over there. It doesn¡¯t judge, at least not out loud.¡±
¡°Okay, if you¡¯re sure. Good luck!¡± Ink-Talon cawed back, before turning to the Guardian. ¡°I guess I¡¯m free to help, then! How long will we be?¡±
¡°This will likely take the rest of the day, but you will be back not long after sunset, if all goes well.¡± Something about the statement felt¡ off. Not to his Understanding, its tone was perfectly benign as far as he could tell, if somewhat more reserved than usual. Instead, it was his normal human intuition telling him that there was something suspicious about the way the idea was expressed. If actual words had been spoken, he would have thought that Golden-Streak was being very particular about its phrasing to obscure something without actually lying.
¡°Sure, lead the way,¡± Ink-Talon nodded, dismissing the unease. He had no reason to mistrust the Guardian, and it¡¯s not like ¡°human intuition¡± was ever going to be applicable in this world. He¡¯d need to work on unlearning it. ¡°What do you need help with?¡±
¡°It is a private matter, concerning your namesake,¡± The leopard waved a paw matter-of-factly as it turned and began walking towards a door at the far end of the courtyard. ¡°It has been decided that you should be involved in the process, but that is all I can say in public.¡±
¡°Oh, that makes sense, I guess.¡± The crow took to the air in short bursts to keep up with the brisk pace of the Guardian without overtaking it. ¡°I don¡¯t envy whoever has to sort out property rights and other legal things in this situation. I certainly wouldn¡¯t have any idea what to do.¡±
Golden-Streak led Ink-Talon down an unfamiliar series of corridors, into a section of the College that it explained was primarily used for storage and occasionally space for testing or research, and didn¡¯t get many visitors. Much like the library, this part of the building lacked sky lights and had solid doors on each room for climate control. Their destination was just one door among many, though at one point it seemed to have had some kind of signage on it, judging by the blank square on the wood where a layer of dust hadn¡¯t yet settled.
¡°It will take me some time to unlock the door, please do not wander off.¡± Golden-Streak began manipulating a small series of levers and turn-keys along the side of the door with its mouth, a process that seemed rather tedious for someone with her body plan, and further complicated by the fact that it seemed to be a combination lock of some sort. Each part was being engaged in a specific position in a specific order. Whatever was behind this door was something that they didn¡¯t want anyone touching without permission.
¡°What about the Scholar¡¯s effects requires this level of security?¡± Ink-Talon asked, clicking his beak nervously. ¡°That¡¯s what I¡¯m here for, right? Some sort of property transfer? Or is there something else related to it stashed away in a storage closet?¡±
¡°This room contains the result of some research Scholar Ink-Talon began several years ago. It was recently completed by Lead Scholar Delving-Thought in its absence.¡± Once again, something about the leopard¡¯s phrasing was making him uneasy, as if there was something it was leaving out.
¡°What kind of research? And why are you giving it to me?¡±
¡°It is difficult to explain,¡± the Guardian growled, finally disengaging the lock with a loud wooden thunk. ¡°But it will become apparent once you see it.¡± The leopard grabbed a handle in its teeth and pulled, swinging the door open rather slowly. It was extremely heavy for some reason. The room inside was dark, lit only by a single lamp on the inside of the door frame. ¡°Please step inside.¡±
Movement in his peripheral vision caught Ink-Talon¡¯s attention, and he glanced to his left to see someone standing a ways down the hall. It was the monitor lizard Guardian often stationed near their rooms. A second glance in the opposite direction revealed a large eagle standing a similar distance in the opposite direction. Neither of them were approaching. Just watching. Watching him. Making sure he didn¡¯t run.
¡°Not before you tell me what¡¯s going on,¡± he squawked, fluffing himself up defiantly. ¡°Something isn¡¯t right here, and you know what it is, otherwise you wouldn¡¯t have backup to box me in.¡± He waved a wing down the hall to indicate that he had spotted the extra muscle. ¡°I¡¯m not dangerous, you can trust me.¡±
¡°I know you aren¡¯t,¡± the Guardian rumbled its reply as it turned to face the crow, once more crouching down to eye-level. ¡°But your treatment does not allow for trust.¡±
¡°Treatment? What are you-¡±
Before he could even finish the question, Golden-Streak sprung forward, spinning and swinging a massive paw at him in one smooth motion. He couldn¡¯t even unfurl his wings before he was struck in the side and bowled over, the blow knocking the wind out of him as the leopard¡¯s follow-up scooped him off the floor and tossed him through the doorway like a ragdoll. He hit the ground hard, letting out a feeble squawk as the impact and subsequent slide across the rough floor painfully plucked several feathers from his breast.
¡°I am sorry. This will all be over soon.¡± The heavy door to the room scraped closed, slamming into the door frame from the hurried force of the Guardian¡¯s push. The lock clicked back into place a few moments later.
Ink-Talon struggled to his feet, gasping for breath as his panicked gaze darted around his prison. It was a completely barren room, its only distinguishing feature being the dull gray tiles covering every surface of it, even the inside of the door. The way his talons clicked on the floor made him think it was some kind metal, but he couldn¡¯t tell what kind.
His mind raced for a few moments as he tried to put together what had just happened, but he didn¡¯t need to think for long. The answer was obvious. Golden-Streak had called this his ¡®treatment.¡¯
He was going to be erased.
Chapter 24: Transience
Option one: make a break for it the moment anyone comes in to perform whatever procedure they have planned. Pros: Might actually work, and at the very least will stall for time. Cons: Guardians and Seekers are trained for this kind of thing, and I¡¯m not.
Ink-Talon paced back and forth in his dark, metal-plated prison, desperately trying to come up with any good ideas on how to come out of this in one piece. He¡¯d only been in there for a few minutes, but it was already not going well.
Furthermore, I don¡¯t know what the ¡°treatment¡± is. For all I know, they¡¯ll just pump in a gas to knock me out or make a special sound that screws with Understanding or any number of wild possibilities. I can¡¯t rely on escaping that way.
Option two: Bargain and beg. Pros: It¡¯s the ¡°civilized¡± approach, and would inspire more sympathy than aggression or deception. Cons: The chances of anyone actually letting me go are next to none. Best I can hope for is making them feel really guilty when they think back on this later. Not worth wasting time and energy on.
Option three: Look around the room for some flaw in the walls or other openings that can be widened. Pros¡
The crow shook his head and blinked as he drew a blank. It made sense that there wouldn¡¯t be any major upsides to the idea, but he could have sworn he¡¯d thought of it for a reason¡
No time for this. Just keep thinking. Cons: The chances of me finding something a dedicated builder or crafter overlooked are even lower than persuading a guard.
This was getting him nowhere, but he didn¡¯t have anything else to do. The speed of his pacing increased, only for a talon to catch on something a moment later and send him stumbling for a few steps. Turning around to look for what tripped him, he immediately spotted the culprit. Grooves had been scraped into the floor tiles by his talons as he¡¯d paced, just barely deep enough to trip on.
But these are metal, right? Why is it so soft? Is it¡ He almost had the answer. The tiles were made of a soft, gray metal that he had absolutely seen before. He knew it. He knew he knew it. He had just been about to recall it. But he suddenly couldn¡¯t make the connection, the answer was gone. Once again, he was drawing a blank, and that scared him. Losing track of a train of thought was one thing, but he¡¯d just had entire thoughts and ideas jarringly vanish out of his head twice in the last few minutes.
Don¡¯t think about it, don¡¯t think about it, just focus on escape. Ignore the name of the metal, take a detour. Just focus on the properties and get to the important facts that way. Soft-metal was¡ poisonous! Right! And it was used for¡ protection? Bullets! And blocking energy! Is the Gift energy? Is that the treatment? Just keep me in this room until my brain is wiped?
The implications of that idea would have to wait. At least now he knew that nobody was going to be coming in to do anything to him until it was over, so he could discard option one. As far as he could tell, the only possible thing he could do other than sit and wait for the end would be to try and scrape away one of the tiles enough to dislodge it. He picked a tile on the bottom of the door, hoping that if the noise got anyone¡¯s attention, they¡¯d open it to stop him.
Okay, would my beak or talons be better for this? Which is harder? Which can apply more force faster? Ink-Talon expected the answer to just come to him like it always had, but his Attunement had gone quiet. The stream of information about his body and what it was capable of that he¡¯d come to rely on had vanished. The silence was deafening. He was running out of time.
Ink-Talon screeched wordlessly as he threw himself as his target, alternating between talons and beak to scrape away at the poison-metal that was slowly killing him. It was soft for a metal, but it was still metal. It was heavy and rough and slow to break. Even after flailing for as long as his stamina could hold out, he¡¯d yet to expose any of the surface behind it, and his haphazard, rage-fueled technique had been far from efficient, with a lot of energy wasted scratching at other bits than the one he should have focused on. What was worse, he was having trouble breathing.
Come on! I know how to do this! One of us was shown how to do this without Attunement! Who was it? Pearl? Is that her name? Yes, but no, but.. He took a different track. He had literally been breathing the correct way a few minutes ago. It was a fresh memory, easy to recall. If he just tried to focus on what he remembered flying feeling like¡ There! Keep it up! With his breathing corrected for the moment, he continued scraping away at the corner of the plate, this time taking care to focus all of his efforts on one spot.
Scrape the spot. Singular focus. Nothing else matters. Nothing else. Nothing. Nothing. No things¡
Time seemed to fade away as he worked. In fact, lots of things seemed to fade away, but time was the only one he noticed. Eventually, a delighted squawk left the crow¡¯s beak as he finally spotted wood behind the thin plate of soft-metal. He¡¯d gotten through! Now¡
Now what? Why was it doing that? Scraping away at things might have been interesting, but it was hard. It decided to stop. Maybe something else interesting was in the room? If not, it would just take a nap until someone opened the door again. The crow felt an odd stab of fear as it turned away from the door, as if it knew something terrible was about to happen. But the feeling quickly faded. It wasn¡¯t important¡
Clarity returned to Ink-Talon¡¯s mind, only for him to find himself a passenger in his own body. The crow moved on its own, thought on its own, felt on its own. It remembered the past enough to know that someone would come to let it out, so it was fine with waiting. It turned to go look around the room and see if anything caught its interest.
¡°No! No, no, no! Turn around! I¡¯m so close!¡± The human mind screamed at the bird, and for a moment, it seemed to notice. But that recognition soon faded like everything else, and his pleas went unheard. All that was left were his own thoughts¡Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.
¡°¡But my thoughts should be gone by now, right? It¡¯s just like when I hit my head, except when that happened, I was gone completely. Why is this different?¡±
¡°Because this method allows the Gift of Understanding to enter a Transitory Phase, while head trauma does not.¡± A foreign thought echoed in Ink-Talon¡¯s mind. ¡°It is the final stage before a creature is completely stripped of its Gift, a moment of clarity when the true mind loses control of the body, freeing it to focus entirely on its own thoughts.¡± The voice was outwardly calm, but he could feel that it was holding itself back. Barely restrained anger and passion and excitement all bubbled just beneath the surface, as if days upon days of pent-up emotions were threatening to explode out all at once. ¡°It is ironic. Delving-Thought rejected my research on Signal Theory years ago for being too dangerous, and yet now it has applied it to something far crueler than anything I would have considered using it for.¡± He knew exactly who the voice belonged to now.
¡°You¡¯re¡ Scholar Ink-Talon.¡± The human laughed. Not literally, but he expressed the sentiment as best a disembodied consciousness could. ¡°Sorry we had to meet like this, right before I die. I guess the ¡®treatment¡¯ works, then?¡±
¡°It does, technically, though I suspect that the people waiting outside will not like the result.¡± Sensing the human¡¯s confusion, the Scholar elaborated further. ¡°When they open the door and restore our connection to our Gift, only one of us will be able to exist, same as before. However, they seem to be operating under the assumption that you and I are part of the same true mind, and that my personality and memories would re-assert themselves over your ¡®false¡¯ or ¡®damaged¡¯ ones naturally if given the opportunity. In reality, we are distinct and equal. In order for me to be the one who leaves this room, my will would have to supplant yours by force. I would have to attempt to take your life. I refuse.¡±
¡°Are you sure?¡± The human thought the question before anything else. After pausing to collect his proper feelings, he continued. ¡°What I mean is¡ If you wanted your body and life back, I wouldn¡¯t fight you. They¡¯re not mine to take, and you shouldn¡¯t have to sacrifice yourself for a stranger who has wronged you. Part of me really wants to fight, of course, but I¡¯m not even supposed to-¡±
¡°Ink-Talon! Listen to me.¡± The forcefulness of the Scholar¡¯s request easily halted the human''s guilt-ridden ramblings. ¡°You are not a stranger. I have not been conscious alongside you until now, but I have experienced everything you have in this body. It is¡ impossible to process all of it at once, and I may never get the chance. But I know you! For the past thirteen days, I have been you! You have my complete trust. So please believe me when I say that I want you to be the one to walk out this door.¡±
¡°Why?¡±
¡°Because I have a request, one that I have no right asking of you. There is something only you can do, you and others like you. If you are willing, I will explain as much as I can in the time we have. If you are not, I do not blame you.¡± The Scholar¡¯s thoughts were sincere, and completely absent of resentment. He didn¡¯t know how, but he was pretty sure neither of them were capable of lying without the other finding out immediately. Their minds were connected too closely.
¡°I¡¯m definitely willing. I owe you that much, at least.¡±
¡°Thank you, Ink-Talon.¡±
¡°That¡¯s your name, not mine, remember? I¡¯ve just been borrowing it.¡±
¡°Of course.¡± If a mind could smirk, the Scholar¡¯s would have been. ¡°You have used it well so far, so I will graciously allow you to continue borrowing it. Please try to return it unblemished.¡± Now it was teasing him. He could see why the crow had been so popular.
¡°I¡¯ll do my best.¡± The human was finally able to relax, though this unfortunately had no effect on the tension in their physical body as it wandered its enclosure. ¡°How long do you think we have before they cut us off? They can¡¯t keep us in here for too long without completely erasing us, can they? I just want to make sure I ask the right questions.¡±
¡°In real time, not much. However, disconnected as we are from our physical body, I think I can give us more than enough.¡±
¡°You think?¡±
¡°Considering that testing this theory would have required me to bring myself or someone I trusted to the edge of oblivion we are currently straddling¡¡±
¡°Point taken.¡±
¡°Try to stay calm as I attempt this. My original estimations only accounted for one true mind to one physical mind. I do not know how you will affect the process.¡±
Unable to close the crow¡¯s eyes, the human simply attempted to let his mind drift. He wasn¡¯t in any immediate danger anymore. He could just¡ exist for a moment. And as he did, the world seemed to fade away, only to be replaced by a familiar scene. One that had haunted his sleep since he arrived in this world. The clearing where he and Quiet-Dream first woke up.
¡°Oh, of course it would be here.¡± What sounded like an androgynous human voice drew his attention to his left, where a very tiny crow stood, staring up at him. It opened its beak to speak to him. ¡°This clearing is the strongest memory of a place we share independently of each other. For me, it was the final moments I spent as myself. For you, it was your first moments spent as someone else.¡±
¡°What did you-¡± When he heard his own voice for the first time in almost two weeks, his hand shot up to his mouth, only for him to immediately realize that he actually had hands. Normal, human hands, just like he remembered. The crow wasn¡¯t exceptionally tiny. He was just big again. ¡°This can¡¯t be real.¡±
¡°It very much is not,¡± the crow explained. ¡°Think of it like a lucid dream. Our minds are shaping this experience, filling in the gaps in our perception left by our disconnected senses. I am just glad I was correct about this.¡± It let out a proper sigh of relief. It really hadn¡¯t known if this would work or not. ¡°If I continue to be correct, we should be able to hold a rather lengthy conversation without much real time passing as long as we remain in this state. If I am wrong¡ At least I got to get a better idea of what your original species looks like. Somewhat.¡±
¡°Only somewhat?¡± The human looked at his hands. They felt normal, but¡ ¡°Oh.¡± There was a loose, almost shadowy quality to his form. Like his entire body existed in his peripheral vision, blurred by a lack of focus. ¡°This isn¡¯t right.¡±
¡°If I had to guess, our Attunement is to blame. Compared to your previous body, you have a much clearer perception of-¡± Before it could even finish the theory, the human standing in front of it had vanished, replaced instead by a second crow, identical to itself in every way. ¡°...Being a crow.¡± The Scholar tilted its head. ¡°Did you do that on purpose?¡±
¡°Yes,¡± the second crow nodded. ¡°Being that way felt wrong. I don¡¯t like towering over others, and I¡¯m¡ just used to this now. This shape feels more ¡®real,¡¯ even in this dream.¡±
¡°Right. As long as you are comfortable. Are you ready to continue? I have a lot I need to explain.¡±
¡°Absolutely.¡± The former human extended a wing for a faux handshake, and thankfully the Scholar was quick on the uptake, mirroring the gesture and pressing the inside of its wing against his. ¡°Let¡¯s hear it.¡±
Chapter 25: Decompression
¡°Do you have any idea what it felt like to have my mind slowly slip away?¡± Ink-Talon screeched at the Guardian, using his very real anger to mask any indication that he may be lying about what actually happened afterward. ¡°All for what? The possibility that the Scholar was still in here somewhere? Is that what the College considers a worthwhile reason to torture someone? A wild guess?¡± Golden-Streak cringed at the accusation. He was hitting a nerve. Good.
He was currently being kept in the empty room across the hall from the lead-lined ¡°treatment¡± chamber, where Guardian Golden-Streak had been watching him recover from the ordeal. This, unfortunately, had involved going through the same process again in reverse. It wasn¡¯t any more pleasant the second time, but this time he had two things to make it easier: a mission, and completely justified fury.
¡°Also, I¡¯m quite familiar with the metal that room is lined with. Some of you had to know that lead is incredibly toxic when ingested or inhaled. Did you consider that, perhaps, a panicking, impaired creature¡¯s first instinct would be to bite and scrape away at it desperately in an attempt to escape? You¡¯re lucky I can tell how much of that actually got into my body, and that it won¡¯t cause long-term harm so long as I¡¯m not exposed to more.¡±
The rant continued for quite some time, with the crow making sure to drill into the Guardian¡¯s head that absolutely nothing worthwhile had come of their little experiment, so as to keep them from trying again with one of the others. There was no way of knowing how any of the other ¡°former occupants¡± would react to an opportunity to regain control¡ or how the other humans would react to the opportunity to ¡°give up¡± and disappear. Even the Scholar admitted that it would have accepted his offer to take over if there wasn¡¯t something more important at stake. Neither of them had been able to come up with a good solution to the problem, though, so they had resolved to try and find something that wasn¡¯t a zero-sum game before allowing such a binary choice to be an option.
¡°I get your point.¡± The leopard huffed, raising a paw to interject. ¡°Please stop. You should be resting, not causing yourself further stress.¡±
¡°Oh, so now you care about my well being?¡±
¡°I always have!¡± Golden-Streak¡¯s tail lashed as it rose to its full height and growled, making Ink-Talon wonder for a moment if he had pushed things too far. ¡°Why do you think I agreed to do this in the first place?¡±
¡°But I¡¯m not your Ink-Talon!¡± One final screech and the room fell silent, with both animals glaring at each other and breathing heavily. Eventually, the crow regained enough of his composure to properly conclude his thoughts. ¡°I don¡¯t know what your relationship was like, but I¡¯ve heard enough about the Scholar to know that it wouldn¡¯t want you to treat anyone like this, even for its sake. If you really cared for it, do better than this.¡± This was a half-truth. The Scholar had explained their relationship, but he wasn¡¯t about to let on what he knew. The Guardian remained silent. He couldn¡¯t tell whether it refused to respond, or didn¡¯t know what to say. ¡°I think I¡¯m well enough to walk now. I¡¯d like to return to my room.¡±
¡°Someone outside will escort you,¡± the leopard sighed. ¡°I need to report the treatment¡¯s failure to the Lead Guardian. I cannot stop you, but things will be simpler if you do not give too many details on what happened here to your companions. It will only cause undue stress and conflict, and they do not need any more of that.¡±
¡°That, we agree on. I¡¯ll try not to worry them. Don¡¯t give me a reason to change my mind.¡±
The walk back was slow, but uneventful. The sun had apparently set while he was gone, and thanks to everything that had just happened, Ink-Talon was barely awake, with his Attunement making him keenly aware of just how exhausted his body was. He was going to crash hard the moment he settled down. And honestly? That was fine. There was no need to rush. It was going to take time to unpack everything, literally and figuratively.
There was one small flaw with Scholar Ink-Talon¡¯s ¡°lucid dreaming¡± method of delivering information that it had failed to anticipate before he returned to the waking world. The actual memory of their conversation was¡ compressed, for lack of a better term. He hadn¡¯t forgotten any of it, but it was as if he¡¯d experienced it all at once. In a sense, he actually had. It made it difficult to process, and he¡¯d have to sort through it all in the coming days. But one key part of the conversation stuck out in his mind.
It was the part that was going to make sleep difficult no matter how tired he was.
¡±Signal Theory is the idea that our Gift of Understanding does not reside within us, but rather is transmitted to us. It is why this room suppresses it, the signal cannot penetrate a barrier of lead. For much of recorded history, it was assumed that the land itself bestowed the Gift upon us, as it fades if one attempts to travel out to sea. We know that the Known World is not the entire world, but without Understanding, we cannot explore beyond its borders. The fall of the Lost Lands introduced a new idea, however. Its borders are well charted, and have remained static since their creation. Over the years, those with a mind for geography have noticed a pattern. The borders are all equidistant, not from the center of the region, but from the nearest Beacon, and of the five Beacons we know to exist, one resides in those Lost Lands. The conclusion we can draw from this should be obvious.¡±
¡±That ¡¯the Beacons are the means?¡¯ You wrote that as a question in one of your poems. You clearly weren¡¯t sure about it yet.¡±
¡±It is not a popular theory, and is difficult to accept. Not because it is implausible, but because it implies that the Lost Lands came to be because Central Beacon failed. That any or all of the Beacons could eventually fail. And that there would be nothing that any of us could do about it¡¡±
¡°Ink-Talon!¡± A very loud, very concerned squeal brought the crow out of the recollection as Quiet-Dream scampered down the hall to greet him, weaving around the Guardian on duty. ¡°What happened? The bat said that a Guardian took you somewhere, but nobody would tell me where you were going. They¡¯ve always been open about who went where before, so I knew it was something serious. Are you okay? You can barely stand! Get inside, lean on me if you have to.¡± The squirrel was frantic, gesturing wildly and nearly overwhelming the crow on the spot.
¡°Calm down, I¡¯m fine.¡± As if to mock him, his left leg gave out for a moment and he stumbled, only staying upright because Quiet-Dream had darted to that side to prop him up. ¡°I¡¯m just tired.¡±
¡°This is more than ¡®just¡¯ tired. You look like you just picked a fight with a brick wall.¡±
He was right, of course. It only took a moment for his Attunement to confirm that his beak was noticeably scuffed, two of his talons had broken tips, and the feathers across his breast were visibly thinned from the amount that had gotten plucked when he slid across the lead floor after being tossed. Everything ached. On top of it all, his mind felt like it was moving through sludge. He¡¯d clearly gotten moving before he had recovered enough, and was paying the price.
¡°You¡¯re not that far off, all things considered.¡± Ink-Talon sighed, letting his weight sink into the squirrel¡¯s soft fur a bit more. ¡°I¡¯ll explain once we¡¯re not standing in the middle of the hallway anymore.¡±
¡±What about Keen-Ear? Or your kits?¡± His own question to the Scholar echoed in his mind as another part of their conversation bubbled to the surface of his woozy brain. ¡±I don¡¯t like being the person keeping you from your loved ones. And Quiet-Dream has basically been tearing himself apart over it from the start. Should I¡ say something to them? Pass along a message?¡±The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.
¡±I miss Keen-Ear more than you could ever know, but it would not do it any good to try and communicate. If you did, I do not believe Quiet-Dream would take it very well. And if he were to do something reckless as a result, Keen-Ear would never forgive me for letting him come to harm for its sake. I chose Keen-Ear as my life-mate precisely because it refused to compromise on its convictions. It staunchly believed in our society, and our capacity to come together and thrive despite our differences in our forms, origins, and capabilities.That includes you humans. As for the kits¡¡±
¡°Ink-Talon! You¡¯re hurt!¡± The familiar chirps of Black-Leap interrupted the memory. He¡¯d been brought all of the way into a room without even realizing. Probably Quiet-Dream¡¯s, as his was all the way at the far end of the hall. ¡°Did you fall out of the sky?¡±
¡°Not this time¡¡± He took a few steps away from Quiet-Dream and collapsed awkwardly into the pile of blankets the squirrels had been bedding in. ¡°Just had a disagreement with Golden-Streak, is all.¡±
¡°That leopard scares me.¡± A second, quieter voice belonging to the second, yet-unnamed kit came from under Ink-Talon¡¯s left wing. He hadn¡¯t looked before falling into the bed, and had landed right on top of it. ¡°I can never tell if it hates us or is sad about us.¡±
¡°Or both!¡± Its sibling chimed in.
¡°Definitely a mix of both,¡± Quiet-Dream agreed.
¡°Can you let me out? I can¡¯t move.¡± Ink-Talon wiggled to the side to let the gray kit pull itself free. ¡°Thanks.¡±
¡°Sorry about that, you¡¯re just small. Easy to miss¡¡± The crow trailed off as his mind once more drifted to the previous recollection.
¡±...I care deeply for the kits, and it is wonderful to have seen them grow through your eyes, but I cannot rightfully call them my own. A true parent is someone who actively cares for and raises a child. Neither I nor Keen-Ear can claim that role anymore. They cannot even remember us, and have taken almost exclusively after you and Quiet-Dream.¡±
¡±I¡¯m no parent, either, I¡¯m just-¡±
¡±A friend, I know. But a good friend can make a passable parent if the situation requires it. I learned that the hard way when Golden-Streak was a cub, though I was only barely fledged at the time myself¡¡±
¡°Black-Leap, go find Maggie and tell her that Ink-Talon needs a Physician right away. Gray, follow her and don¡¯t let her get distracted. I need to stay with him and make sure he doesn¡¯t pass out.¡±
¡°Okay!¡±
¡°...Gray?¡± Ink-Talon tilted his head as the kits left the room.
¡°I got tired of referring to them as ¡®the gray one,¡¯ and asked if I could just shorten it if they were so intent on not choosing a proper name for themselves.¡±
¡°That works, I guess.¡± The kits had come forward about Gray¡¯s state of mind a few days ago, at the urging of Scribe Swift-Paw. While he could comprehend on some level the desire for unawareness, there was a certain¡ endearing, stubborn childishness to the kit¡¯s attitude. As if after getting over the initial shock, it had settled into complaining about needing to be sapient the same way a human child would complain about having to get out of bed and go to school. Sometimes it even seemed to enjoy defying the expectation that it do things like "have a name" or "be a person." Of course, it ended up distressed over it just as often, so it was still a delicate situation. He hoped that treating it kindly and giving it time would be enough.
¡°Okay, no more dodging the question. What happened?¡± Quiet-Dream was physically tense. Ink-Talon didn¡¯t need to Understand his tone to realize that. ¡°What did they do to you?¡±
¡°They tried to ¡®cure¡¯ me. It didn¡¯t work, obviously. My injuries are mostly self-inflicted from panicking.¡± He was telling the truth, at least, but he still felt bad about needing to leave out the more important parts for the moment.
¡°That can¡¯t be all of it. You¡¯ve been drifting off every other minute. You¡¯re not falling asleep, but you can barely remain conscious. Something is seriously wrong.¡±
¡°Their attempt at a cure was¡¡± Ink-Talon trailed off, his foggy mind struggling to describe it vaguely in a way that was still comprehensible. ¡°They tried to erase me. Like I said, it didn¡¯t work, so they aren¡¯t likely to try the same thing again. But¡¡±
¡°I see.¡± Quiet-Dream sighed, relaxing a bit. ¡°You don¡¯t want to worry me about what they might try to do to the rest of us. And that probably isn¡¯t an experience you want to relive by explaining it.¡±
¡°It¡¯s like you hammered a nail into it.¡± The crow shuddered at the malformed idiom. ¡°Can I sleep now? I¡¯m just going to embarrass myself otherwise.¡±
¡°No. I¡¯m treating this like a concussion. No sleep until the Physician looks you over. Just to be safe.¡±
¡°Really getting into the mom role, aren¡¯t you?¡±
¡°Stop it.¡± The squirrel smiled, which came off more like baring his teeth with the way his face was arranged, but the intent got across. ¡°Swift-Paw is the team mom. I¡¯m more like the team babysitter, scrambling to try and keep us all out of trouble and failing miserably.¡±
¡°Yeah, a team. That¡¯s a good way of putting it¡¡±
¡°This request¡ you said that only ¡®others like me¡¯ could fulfill it. You mean all of us humans, right?¡± Ink-Talon¡¯s mind drifted again before the squirrel could respond. ¡±I don¡¯t want to put anyone in danger.¡±
¡±Neither do I, which is why I am asking you personally, and you are free to decline.¡± The Scholar hopped over to an imagined patch of dirt to demonstrate, scratching out a diagram. ¡°Each of you humans manifested in the bodies of creatures near the borders of the Lost Lands. Within the sphere of influence of the Central Beacon, if it were still active. If the Darksoil Beacon¡¯s Insight is stories from your world, then¡¡±
¡°Ink-Talon!¡± Quiet-Dream¡¯s forepaw jostled the crow¡¯s beak, rousing him for a moment. ¡°Stay with me. Tell me a story. Talk about your theories. Anything to keep you in the moment.¡±
¡°A theory¡ Okay.¡± His thoughts could only go one place right now, but it was something he would need to talk about sooner or later. ¡°I think we might be Insight.¡±
¡°What?¡±
¡°The Beacon¡¯s Insight. All those stories. They had to have been captured or recorded from our world, then stored and passed on to the Scholars here. What if we were captured and stored? Projected into these bodies the same as those stories?¡± He was just relaying what the Scholar had proposed to him, but he had no reason to doubt it. It was the closest thing he had to an explanation for any of this.
¡°...Why would you think that?¡± The question was barely a murmur. The squirrel clearly hadn¡¯t expected something that heavy when he asked for idle speculation.
¡°When they tried to ¡®erase¡¯ me, they did it by blocking the Gift from the outside, and I felt it. Some part of the Gift, and the consciousness that comes with it, is external. We can be cut off from it. I think it¡¯s in the Beacons.¡±
¡°Are you saying we¡¯re just copies of old data? That we¡¯re fake?¡±
¡°No!¡± Ink-Talon squawked. He needed to cut this line of thinking off immediately. ¡°We are as real as anyone else in this world. Whatever happened to our human selves back in our world, whether our minds were removed or just recorded or whatever, we¡¯re still complete people as we are now. Our experiences are real. Our emotions are real. Our memories are real. Don¡¯t start thinking otherwise!¡±
¡°You¡¯re right, just¡¡±
¡°It¡¯s just an idea. A lead to work on. If we¡¯re going to find and help the other humans in this world like you wanted, we need to learn as much as we can about what happened and how it happened¡¡± He was drifting again. He¡¯d pushed himself too much just now. But it was worth it. He needed Quiet-Dream to have hope. He couldn¡¯t let him give up¡
¡±The request is dangerous, but simple to explain. If you originated from the Central Beacon, and you still persist, then the Beacon must still function, if only for you. You could enter the Lost Lands without losing your Gifts, find the Beacon, and investigate it. The mystery of your existence in our bodies and the mystery of the Lost Lands are inextricably linked. I don¡¯t know if we can actually solve them, but I want to try. Do you?¡±
The ex-human didn¡¯t respond right away. The mystery was important to him, but he didn¡¯t know if he wanted to risk his or anyone else¡¯s life for the answers¡
¡°Hey!¡± Quiet-Dream bopped him on the beak again, harder this time. ¡°Stop it! No more hard thinking. That was a bad idea. Listen to me talk instead.¡±
¡°I can do that. Thanks.¡±
¡°No problem. Just stay with me, okay?¡± The squirrel sat back on his haunches in front of the crow, taking a deep breath as he prepared to try and be the best distraction he could be.
¡°Same goes for you, Quiet-Dream.¡± The crow murmured. Things were going to be okay. He¡¯d make sure of it. ¡°Same goes for you.¡±
Chapter 26: Accepting Reality
¡°I¡¯m not sure I buy it, personally,¡± Maggie said, preening her feathers in the reflection of the newly-dug pond in the courtyard. It had been about a day since Ink-Talon¡¯s ¡°treatment¡± at the claws of the Guardians, and the theories he¡¯d come away with were all she could think about. ¡°It¡¯s too clean, on top of the logistics being wild. If we¡¯re all just being ¡®transmitted¡¯ into our bodies from the Lost Lands, why are we tied to them at all? What about latency?¡±
¡°Hey, if it works, it works, right?¡± Song swished her tail across the surface of the water, clearly relishing finally having space to stretch without drying out. ¡°Getting caught up on the particulars isn¡¯t going to do you any good.¡±
¡°I dunno, I think I¡¯m going to go crazy if I don¡¯t start trying to find some answers.¡±
¡°It is a moot point, unfortunately. You still can not leave the city to test any part of it.¡± Seeker Sunny-Plume whistled from its perch in a nearby tree. It had been hanging around them quite a lot these last few days, volunteering to take up watch shifts or escort duties whenever it could, and just generally socializing off-duty when it couldn¡¯t. Maggie certainly wasn¡¯t complaining. It was a cheerful presence and a fantastic splash of color in the otherwise stark scenery of the College. No, she had other things to complain about instead.
¡°I¡¯m working on it,¡± the myna huffed in annoyance. ¡°Learning how to navigate an alien bureaucracy from scratch is not exactly easy. Even with the Archivist¡¯s help.¡±
¡°You got Archivist Sharp-Search to help?¡± Sunny chirped, clearly surprised. ¡°It has never been one for company in the library, and typically does not agree to assist in research unless the topic interests it.¡±
¡°It apparently owes Ink-Talon and Quiet-Dream a favor, but honestly? I get the feeling that it enjoys teaching people more than it lets on. It¡¯s the part where people just ask it to find records and little else that it seems to resent.¡±
¡°So, you have a plan, then?¡± Song tilted her head inquisitively.
¡°Yep! The Lead Guardian has made its intentions for us quite clear, so I¡¯m not even going to bother trying to reason with it.¡± Maggie hopped back, flaring her wings for dramatic effect. ¡°I¡¯m going to invoke a Consensus!¡±
¡°...I have no idea what that even means.¡±
¡°Consensus is Darksoil¡¯s system of governance,¡± Sunny-Plume explained. ¡°Any time someone wishes to take an action or set a precedent that affects a significant group of people, those affected must reach a Consensus on the matter. The affected gather, points are debated, and then a vote is held, all mediated by a designated Arbitrator. If a majority agrees to the proposal, then it is enacted. If not, then it is rejected.¡±
¡°When word of our ¡®affliction¡¯ first reached Darksoil, an emergency Consensus was called to determine what to do with us. Apparently there was a ton of arguing and the only majority solution was to grant jurisdiction for our care and observation to those in relevant Lead roles. However!¡± Maggie pivoted on her right foot as she explained, balancing the movement with an outstretched left wing. It was honestly her favorite thing to do in this body. It made her feel like some kind of larger-than-life cartoon character with big expressions and even bigger gestures. If she was going to look goofy with her human mannerisms as a bird no matter what, she could at least have fun going all out. ¡°We¡¯re entitled to the same right to Consensus as anyone else living in this city! We can make a case for our freedom, and I¡¯d like to think that the people here are good and compassionate, on the whole.¡±
¡°Well, here¡¯s hoping that works out for you all. I¡¯ll be rooting for you.¡±
¡°You¡¯re one of us too, you know,¡± Maggie said, caught off-guard by just how casually Song was discounting herself. ¡°You don¡¯t want to stay cooped up here forever, do you?¡±
¡°No, but look at me.¡± The salamander pulled herself up onto the grass to make her body as visible as possible. ¡°I¡¯m a half-blind aquatic amphibian with a missing leg. The best I could hope for travel-wise is getting wrapped back up in a wet blanket and hauled back to the river I came from. What I remember of it is that it was a very lonely experience, living separately from everyone else in that river. Stream-Drifter may have been anti-social, but I¡¯m not.¡± She swung her tail around to angle herself back towards the pond and slid in. ¡°Free or not, I¡¯m stuck with this body and its limitations.¡±
¡°Come on, we¡¯ll figure something out. Don¡¯t give up so-¡±
¡°I¡¯m not giving up, Maggie!¡± Song snapped, literally, her mouth opening and slamming shut with terrifying force. ¡°I¡¯m accepting reality. There¡¯s no point in holding on to the idea of things that are long gone. Trying to force it is only going to hurt.¡±
Maggie didn¡¯t have a response to that, and after a minute of painful silence, she meekly apologized and walked away.
¡°Pearl, wait!¡± Sunny-Plume quickly swooped down to land in front of her, the concern in its voice coming through loud and clear. ¡°Are you okay?¡±
¡°I¡¯m fine. Walk with me if you want to talk.¡± After they were back inside and well out of earshot of Song, the myna asked a question. ¡°Sunny, am I trying too hard?¡±
¡°You are always trying very hard. I personally find it admirable, not excessive.¡±
¡°Right, but it¡¯s like Song said. If I don¡¯t accept my reality and keep trying to force myself to be human, then I am just hurting myself.¡±
¡°Of course, you should always be willing to accept reality. But reality is complex. Your body is part of your reality, but so is your mind. And your memories. And your beautiful voice. In my opinion, denying them is just as harmful as denying your body.¡±
¡°Fair point, I just don¡¯t want to-¡± Maggie paused mid-sentence and looked at Sunny-Plume before laughing. ¡°Did you just say I had a ¡®beautiful¡¯ voice?¡±This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.
¡°You do!¡± the kestrel squawked, flaring its wings. ¡°It stops being difficult to process once you are used to it, and the way you construct your expressions has a certain¡ musical quality.¡±
¡°Musical? I¡¯m no songbird. I sound like a tinny imitation of a real person.¡±
¡°It is not the melody of your voice, it is the rhythm. You have such a wonderful cadence. Orderly and patterned, but wildly varied. Every expression is full of so much detail and deliberate, considered sounds. I had never heard anything like it before meeting you. It is soothing, and you are very pleasant to be around as a result. Please never stop trying to be yourself.¡±
¡°I¡ Wow.¡± Maggie halted, opening and closing her beak a few times as she tried to come up with anything to respond with.
¡°Was that too much? Sorry.¡±
¡°No!¡± Maggie nearly yelped her response, surprising even herself with how much she¡¯d been thrown off by the compliments. ¡°No. I¡¯ve just never had anyone say something like that about me, that¡¯s all. It¡¯s nice. Thanks.¡±
¡°You know,¡° Sunny whistled, giving the myna a mischievous side-eye. ¡°For a while, I worried that you were incapable of being flustered or embarrassed about anything inconsequential. Good to know that I was wrong.¡±
¡°Yeah. Great. Now you can make it up to me by helping me track down these ¡®Arbitrators¡¯ I need to work with to get a Consensus.¡±
¡°It would be my pleasure!¡± The Seeker fluttered ahead, gesturing to its left with a wing. ¡°This way!¡±
¡°Got it, thanks.¡± Maggie sighed as she followed, her posture drooping a bit once the kestrel wasn¡¯t looking. She wasn¡¯t stupid. She could tell that Sunny-Plume was clearly infatuated with her as more than just a close friend. It was different than how a human would have gone about it. Way less wavering and being nervous and way more open expressions of affection with no pretense. It didn¡¯t even seem to care if she reciprocated or not. But the intent was clear, and the emotions were genuine.
The problem, however, was that it was working. She was genuinely happier whenever Sunny was around. Having someone take an interest in her as a person and be so supportive, regardless of her unending list of problems, was literally the best thing in her life right now. It had a great sense of humor, and was actually receptive to her own, once she¡¯d gotten over the cultural barriers a bit. If she were trying to talk someone else through this, she¡¯d tell them how obvious it was that there was something there, and to just go for it. But actually being here, in her own head, in this body¡
It¡¯s the body that¡¯s the problem, Maggie realized, trying very hard to walk naturally and keep these thoughts to herself. I like Sunny, but I¡¯m not attracted to Sunny. She¡¯d had a decent number of partners in her old life. The relationships were genuine, but deliberately non-committal and very physical. But here she was, in a foreign body with different functions and different needs. When she looked at Sunny without thinking about it as a person she knew, she just saw a bird. There was no spark, no base attraction to push her forward. Maybe if Sunny were another myna something would happen, but she couldn¡¯t be sure if it would even then.
It threw everything she knew about romance out the window. When she thought about Sunny, she didn¡¯t get that fuzzy physical response. That ¡°butterflies in your stomach¡± feeling that clued her in to what was going on. Instead, she just felt¡ happy. Comforted. Eager to see it again if it wasn¡¯t there, and reluctant to leave if it was. She couldn¡¯t properly label the feeling. She couldn¡¯t categorize it. She couldn¡¯t even properly respond to it. Was this romantic love, or just close friendship? Was there even a difference without the physical component?
She¡¯d gotten the impression from people like Sharp-Search that there absolutely could be a physical component to relationships between these creatures, even across species, though she sure as hell wasn¡¯t about to try and find out how that worked. Just the thought made her uncomfortable, though again, it was a purely mental response. She had no physical revulsion towards those things to speak of. This was mainly notable because she did have physical responses to other emotions.
Anxiety, panic, fear, pleasure, and contentedness all felt quite familiar, with the only difference being her much faster heart rate and what muscles tensed or relaxed, which was to be expected. Other than that, it was sadness that joined disgust and whatever she felt towards Sunny in her utter lack of physical response. Most animals didn¡¯t have the ability to cry, after all, so she never got choked up or teary-eyed. It helped her keep her composure, which was good, but also she¡¯d experienced first-hand (first-wing?) what could happen without that kind of cathartic release valve on stress. Lashing out at Sunny-Plume the day they first met was still something she regretted.
¡°Pearl, over here!¡± A sharp screech from the kestrel got Maggie to pay attention to where they had ended up. They weren¡¯t at the usual entrance to the College, but rather a smaller one off to the side, where a number of random objects had been strewn around the sides of the path in the gap between the College and the surrounding city. Boxes, poles, planks of wood, damaged pieces of furniture, and other things she didn¡¯t recognize were laid out with an odd deliberateness that she couldn¡¯t place.
¡°Wow, what happened?¡± Maggie asked, craning her neck to try and see more of the clutter. ¡°Looks like someone¡¯s house exploded.¡±
¡°Only two or three items in this are from my home, if you must know.¡±
¡°Wait, you set this all up? What for?¡±
¡°So¡¡± Sunny-Plume took to the air and landed on top of one of the poles and flared its golden wings in an imitation of Maggie¡¯s own flourishes. It was honestly way better at looking impressive than she was. Having the color palette of a brilliant sunrise certainly helped. ¡°...This is your flight training ground!¡±
¡°What.¡±
¡°Obviously I had this set up ahead of time, before you asked to track down the Arbitrators¨C and I will help you do that¨C but for the consensus you are looking to attain, you will need to meet with all of them. Lead Guardian Rooted-Place uses bureaucracy as a shield, and will claim that this concerns the safety of each citizen in each district of the city. There are fifteen Arbitrators, one for each district, not including the College. To be honest, you are not equipped to walk to all of them in a timely manner. It would take a whole day just to see one of them, assuming nothing goes wrong.¡± It swooped back down in front of Maggie and looked her dead in the eyes, the piercing intensity of the raptor¡¯s gaze somehow conveying the soft, affectionate kindness behind it. ¡°You do not have to do this, of course, but¡ You deserve to be free. You deserve to fly. I want to give you the skies.¡±
¡°Y-yeah!¡± Maggie half-stammered-half-chirped after a moment, nodding furiously as she once more found herself completely unequipped to properly respond or even tear her eyes away from that intensely kind gaze... ¡°Yeah. I¡¯d like that. Let¡¯s do it!¡± She tried to hype herself up, shake off this feeling that she wasn¡¯t even sure she wanted to get rid of. Instead, all she managed was fluffing up her feathers like a startled cat.
¡°Great! We can start over here!¡± Sunny-Plume took off towards the far end of the field of clutter, waving her over with a wing and hopping excitedly between its feet as she finally managed to process what had just happened. There was only one conclusion she could reach, but for once, it wasn¡¯t an unpleasant one.
Damn, I really am falling for this bird. Go figure.
Chapter 27: Proprioception
¡°Your first task is: Get on top of this box without climbing.¡± Seeker Sunny-Plume demonstrated, only taking a few wingbeats to propel itself about two feet or so up to the top of the wooden crate from a standing hop. After a moment, it jumped back down and eyed Maggie intently. ¡°Now you try. Do not overthink it, and do not worry about succeeding. I just want to see your first instincts to know where you are starting from.¡±
¡°Too late for that,¡± the myna grumbled, trying to picture how Ink-Talon seemed to manage it. By his own admission, he¡¯d ¡°cheated¡± to figure out how to fly, and he was honestly a terrible teacher, but his clean and precise movements were absolutely what she should be focusing on here. She spread her wings, stared at the edge of the box, and crouched low. Jump and flap at the same time, then just keep flapping. She pushed herself upward and flapped down as hard as she could¡
¡And went precisely nowhere. She barely cleared the height of an unassisted hop, and her talons touched the dirt before she¡¯d even finished the wingbeat.
¡°Oh, come on!¡± She tried again, this time only succeeding in sending herself backwards rather than upwards, falling onto her back. ¡°Really? That¡¯s the way you¡¯re gonna send me?¡± She glared at the splayed limb to her left, arguing with her wings like they weren¡¯t under her complete control. ¡°Up! Push me up!¡±
¡°Pearl!¡± A loud kree! sound from Sunny cut through her frustration like a sharpened blade. It was a far harsher sound than it normally made: raw, high-pitched, and alarming. Given the way the kestrel cringed out of embarrassment after making it, she could tell that this was something it normally tried to keep out of its vocal repertoire. It quickly regained its composure and resumed its softer whistles and chirps. ¡°Stop. I have an idea of what¡¯s wrong. Can you stand?¡±
¡°Yeah, sorry about that.¡± Maggie folded her wings in and rolled onto her feet. ¡°Is it serious? That sounded serious.¡±
¡°No. I was¡¡± Sunny-Plume shook its head. ¡°It is not important. This is. Can you extend a wing for me?¡±
¡°Okay.¡± Maggie wasn¡¯t going to pry, but she couldn¡¯t help but be curious. Every other animal she had met simply worked with whatever sounds they had available to them. But now she got the distinct impression that Sunny had been restraining itself this entire time, and was ashamed that it hadn¡¯t for a moment. Why? ¡°Like this?¡± Maggie unfurled her right wing.
¡°All the way, please.¡±
¡°...Sunny, this is all the way. It won¡¯t go any faaaaaaAAAA-¡± Maggie¡¯s voice slurred into a startled screech as Sunny-Plume walked up behind her, firmly grasped part of her wing in its beak and pulled. She felt bones and tendons she didn¡¯t even realize she had shift painlessly as a whole extra third of her wing unfolded, with the longest feathers on her wing now fanning out in a more complete arc. She couldn¡¯t help but stare at it in awe. ¡°Holy shit.¡±
¡°Sorry! Did I hurt you?¡± Sunny dropped her wing, and the newly discovered joint immediately fell limp, prompting her to fold it back up. ¡°It was just immediately obvious that you were only partly extending your wings, and showing you felt like it would be much faster than trying to explain it.¡±
¡°No, it¡¯s just¡¡± The myna struggled to find the words. As absurd as it was, this discovery threatened to upend the small amount of stability she¡¯d been able to maintain with regards to her body. ¡°I have wrists.¡± She was sure that the statement was silly to Sunny. She didn¡¯t care. ¡°I still have wrists.¡±
She let herself plop down on the dusty road with a muffled thud while her wings unfolded and hung loose at her sides. At first, they remained stuck in that ¡°default¡± position, but she focused on the tendons and muscles she briefly felt move when Sunny pulled her wing. She managed to get them to twitch, just a little bit, and then a few seconds later she began to extend it all the way, albeit at an incredibly slow pace. It was like she had suddenly sprouted a new pair of limbs on the spot. Her brain didn¡¯t know what to do with them. She knew that this was a fantastic discovery, and that she should be happy that she could finally make progress. But all it did was piss her off.
¡°All this time, I had fucking wrists, and I couldn¡¯t even feel them!¡±
¡°I¡ do not understand.¡± Sunny-Plume sat down next to her, momentarily moving its wing as if to place it over her, but withdrawing it after taking a moment to reconsider. ¡°But I would like to. Are you willing to talk about it?¡±
¡°Okay.¡± Maggie took a deep breath, a proper, bird-like breath, and turned to meet the kestrel¡¯s gaze. ¡°I¡¯ll try. I¡¯d like you to understand, too. But I can¡¯t promise that you will.¡±
¡°Of course.¡±
¡°So¡ When I first woke up like this, I was all alone. It was a whole two days before I happened across a village of other¡ people.¡± Maggie tensed up for a moment as she almost used ¡°dehumanizing¡± language again. Sunny simply nodded, acknowledging but unbothered by the slip. ¡°During that time, and for a few days afterwards, if I¡¯m being honest, I was convinced I was dreaming. That none of this was real. That I was trapped in some kind of flawed simulation of reality. And part of the reason I decided that was¡ just how messy and broken the connection between my mind and body was. In order to move anything, I had to imagine moving an equivalent part of my old, human body. To raise my wing, I had to pretend I was raising my ¡®real¡¯ arm. To flex my talons, I had to curl my toes. To open my beak, I had to part my lips. But a bunch of it was messed up. It had to be my lips to open my beak. The far more intuitive jaw ¡®muscle¡¯ didn¡¯t work. Turning my neck to look behind me required trying to turn my ¡®waist,¡¯ despite my bird hips not remotely moving in the motion and my human muscle memory knowing perfectly well how to move a neck.¡±The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
¡°I am sorry you had to go through that,¡± Sunny cooed, clearly unsure of how it should respond. Even a simple platitude like that was plenty, though.
¡°My hands were the last straw.¡± Maggie continued. ¡°I could barely move my wings at first. My shoulders did the expected thing, albeit with a very different range of motion, but my elbows went nowhere.¡± She re-folded and then shifted her wing with just her shoulder to demonstrate. ¡°And it was my ¡®wrist¡¯ that moved this joint, after the shoulder.¡± The next joint in her wing flexed, what she now realized was the bird equivalent of the elbow. ¡°And then my fingers moved this¡¡±
This was the dumbest part, and demonstrating it would be best. She imagined spreading out the fingers on a human hand, and her tail feathers fanned out. Pretending to flex her grip just angled the tail up and down or side to side, depending on what combination of fingers she focused on. She tried to ignore the uncomfortable, alien sensation that came with imagining her old body. She couldn¡¯t.
¡°Do you have any idea how stupid this is? My fingers were fully flexible digits on the end of my arms, and yet things got crossed to attach them to my tail feathers! How could I possibly think that any of this was real? I gave up on trying to make sense of it way too early.¡± Maggie turned to look at Sunny-Plume, desperate for some kind of comprehension of her utterly incomprehensible scenario. ¡°I was enough of an idiot to think I was just a bird with short wings and that birds didn¡¯t have wrist joints. I would have figured this out way faster if I hadn¡¯t just¡ stopped trying. Or even just paid attention in biology classes as a kid. Maybe I¡¯d already be flying, and I wouldn¡¯t be such a burden.¡±
Maggie let herself go completely limp and fell to the side, emotionally exhausted, if not physically. However, she never hit the ground. Instead, she found herself propped up by Sunny¡¯s extended wing as the kestrel stared at her with the last emotion the myna ever would have expected. It was admiration, without even a hint of pity.
¡°You¡¯ve been dealing with that all this time?¡± The kestrel chirped in astonishment. ¡°Without anyone to help you? Your movements have been far from natural, but outside of a few instincts and your wings, I¡¯ve not seen you struggle.¡±
¡°I forced myself to re-learn the basics of movement by making myself ignore my human body image. I had to stop remembering it at inconvenient times.¡± Maggie murmured, letting herself lean into the Seeker¡¯s wing. ¡°I even started adding those silly struts and spins to my speech to try and wring some kind of fun out of this. At first, I figured the other humans had also needed to completely tear down and rebuild their self-image, but just spending a day with Ink-Talon and Quiet-Dream was enough to disprove that. For some reason, it was just me. By that point, though, there was no point in bringing it up. All it¡¯d do is make people worry. But now¡¡± Maggie tilted her head back to meet Sunny-Plume¡¯s gaze. ¡°Now when I close my eyes, I can barely remember how I was at all. I can only see myself as this stupid, awful bird. I think I broke something inside me, and I don¡¯t think I can ever get it back.¡±
¡°Pearl.¡± Sunny whistled quietly. ¡°You are the strongest person I have ever met. Anyone weaker would have given up entirely a long time ago, and to accomplish so much so fast... But you should not have to struggle in silence. Let me help you.¡±
¡°I just¡ You¡¯re¡¡± Maggie tried to say more, but stopped as she heard her words start to collapse into a mushy warble. She couldn¡¯t keep up any semblance of composure anymore, and she refused to say any of what she really wanted to with anything other than her own voice. All she could do was shift to her left a few inches and bury her face in the feathers on Sunny¡¯s shoulder. She felt the other bird flinch briefly, and felt its already rapid heartbeat pick up.
¡°I was too presumptive with the obstacle course. We need to start with low-impact wing exercises, first, I think. The kind that helped me strengthen disused muscles after recovering from a sprain. Do you think-¡±
¡°Sunny.¡± The myna nudged the kestrel with her beak, not even bothering to make a sound.. ¡°No more. I¡¯m done trying for the day. Talk about something else. Anything else.¡±
¡°Anything else¡¡± Sunny tensed up, with whatever it was thinking of making it even more nervous. ¡°Well, I¡ also have a problem. Feral members of my species are very quiet, usually. But when they do vocalize, it is often loud, and painful to many creatures with keen hearing, as it is meant to¡ It is meant to call to distant birds. So I am not supposed to make those sounds in polite company. I have never had trouble restraining myself, but recently¡¡±
¡°Oh, so that was a mating call.¡± Maggie couldn¡¯t help but chuckle, nearly driving Sunny-Plume into an anxious frenzy.
¡°Please do not take it the wrong way! I would never attempt- Our species are not even-¡±
¡°Sunny, you dork!¡± The myna only started laughing harder, sitting up and looking the panic-stricken Seeker in the eyes. ¡°I already knew! You¡¯ve been fawning over me for days! Did you really think you were being subtle?¡±
¡°...Yes.¡± The poor bird had puffed up to an almost comical degree, and very much looked like it wanted to bury its head in the dirt and never pull it out.
¡°Well, you weren¡¯t. But it¡¯s okay. I trust you.¡± Maggie laid her head back down on Sunny¡¯s side, smoothing over its ruffled feathers with her beak. She realized that she would happily sit here, in the shade of this absurd obstacle course that she couldn¡¯t even properly use yet, for the rest of the day. So long as its silly, bone-headed, wonderful creator was here to share in it. It had come clean to her, and cheered her up enough to speak properly. The least she could do was return the favor. ¡°Besides, the feeling¡¯s mutual.¡± She gave Sunny a literal peck on the cheek, or at least on what passed for one on a bird¡¯s head, and its nervous trembling stopped. ¡°We can try things out and see where it goes, if you want.¡±
¡°I¡ do want. To try.¡± Sunny¡¯s response came out in broken, half-stunned squeaks. It had clearly not expected this outcome. ¡°Trying is good.¡±
¡°And so are you, Pretty-Plume.¡± The pet name went over extremely well, even if Sunny didn¡¯t get the alliteration, and both birds finally managed to relax at the same time. All the turmoil of their lives seemed to melt away, if only for that moment. The only thing Maggie was missing was the ability to smile. Somehow, that was okay.
Neither of them needed to.
Chapter 28: Explorers
Expedition Log: 14th Day of New Blooms
Recorded by: Explorer Verdant-Trail
We departed from the Highnest Lifts a day-phase after dawn, to prevent the morning sun from blinding those among us with more sensitive eyes as we traveled directly dawnward. Well-rested and in high spirits, we made swift progress. The trail is well-worn from previous expeditions, and there were no unforeseen obstacles to delay us. We made camp for the night where our path diverged from previous expeditions and discussed what would come next. We were to travel slightly to the left of dawnward, cutting through the heavy jungle until we confirmed the border of the Lost Lands, and then turn right and follow the border for the rest of that day.
With any luck, we would come across the ruins of an old trading settlement that was marked on several recently rediscovered maps. It was a hub of trade between the Highnests, Darksoil, and Deepcross, before it was Lost. While the settlement itself was just outside the Lost Lands, fear of it expanding and the fact that it served little purpose with Deepcross gone led to it being swiftly abandoned. If it is safe to do so, we will make camp there to prepare for the survey.
Explorer Verdant-Trail always drew attention to itself whenever it entered a new settlement, it was hard for a lizard of its size not to. Darksoil, however, was a far more intense experience than it would have expected. It had expected a lot of noise, possibly an overwhelming amount, but even with its poor sense of hearing it could tell that people were falling silent as it walked by instead. It knew why, of course. It was pulling a wagon that was clearly not made for it, the harness hanging loosely around its neck and angled far lower than it was meant to be. It was strong enough to handle it, but it was exhausted, and everyone looking at it could tell.
I can not rest. I will not rest. Not until they are safe. Not until we have answers.
Expedition Log: 15th Day of New Blooms
Recorded by: Explorer Eager-Horizon
I hate rain. I hate this jungle. I hate having to spend time scraping the mud off of everything. I hate that these ruins do not have any intact roofs. I hate being on Log Duty.
Right. Log Duty.
Everything was fine until the rain started. There were no signs of bad weather when we left, but I cannot fly to assess the air when we are near the Lost Lands, it would be too easy to accidentally fly over the border and begin to lose myself. The downpour hit without warning as a result, turning the remainder of the trek into slog through mud and ever-thickening undergrowth. Our Transporter had to turn back only a day-phase into the storm. Its narrow hooves sunk much farther into the mud than anyone else¡¯s feet, rendering it incapable of pulling the cart. Verdant-Trail has taken over its duties, as its claws give it far better purchase in this terrain. However, it moves much slower, and we did not reach the ruins until after sunset. We erected temporary shelter within the ruins, staking a canvas tarp between a few of the still-standing walls. With Verdant-Trail suffering from exhaustion and also being blind in the dark, Log Duty has fallen to me.
Overall, the prospects for the expedition are not looking good. My feathers are too damp to fly, while Verdant-Trail has already pushed itself to the limits of its stamina; the weather has prevented it from properly warming itself. I managed to start a small fire, the spark-maker and spare fuel thankfully remained dry, so if we are lucky, we will be warm and dry enough by morning to not be completely useless. The only one of us who is not miserable right now is Valiant-Claw.
I continue to be astonished by its physiology and just what it is completely unbothered by. Water and mud might as well be a pleasant breeze to it. I can only hope it can turn that energy towards the survey tomorrow. We need this to be successful. There is no room for any more errors.
I hate surveys.
Concerned citizens must have brought Verdant-Trail to the attention of the local authorities, because it was soon confronted by a Guardian, who immediately sent for a proper Transporter to take over and escorted them all to the College the moment the Explorer explained why they were here. Unfortunately, it was upon reaching the College that things became far more chaotic.
¡°Quiet-Dream, slow down!¡± A frustrated squawk from the front gate preceded their arrival. ¡°You don¡¯t even know what condition they¡¯re in!¡±
¡°Exactly!¡± A much higher-pitched squeak just barely reached the lizard, right on the edge of what was audible to its simple ears. ¡°Do you think these up-tight authoritarians are going to have any idea how to treat a [Member of Our Species] without causing more stress, or worse? They sure didn¡¯t for us!¡±
The mention of this unknown species sparked something within the recesses of Verdant-Trail¡¯s sleep-deprived mind. Recognition. An alien thought roused by something familiar to it.
Not yet, Invader. The Explorer tensed as it pushed the feeling back down. Not. Yet.
¡°Excuse me!¡± Another barely audible chirp drew its attention to the ground in front of it where a squirrel was looking up at it expectantly. ¡°Are you one of the¡ new arrivals?¡±
¡°I am here to get help for my companions,¡± Verdant-Trail replied, waving a foreleg towards the small covered cart. The squirrel opened its mouth to say something else, only for the lizard to raise a claw to cut it off. ¡°They need medical attention, and I have been traveling for too long on too little sleep. Please leave me be.¡±The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.
¡°You heard the [Big Island Lizard]. We can just follow them to the infirmary and see what needs done.¡± A crow landed next to the squirrel and nudged it out of the way, though Verdant-Trail barely noticed as the expression the bird had used to describe it also rang familiar to the Invader¡¯s sleeping mind. It was not native to any sort of island, but these entities seemed to think that it was. The Explorer failed to make any sense of why.
It knew that it would find them here, of course. Others infected by foreign thoughts and minds. It had just not expected them to be so¡ forward, or excitable. News of Darksoil¡¯s ¡°containment¡± of them had reached the Highnests five days ago, and Verdant-Trail had left as soon as it was able to. If anyone could help them, it would be an institution of learning and research. If nothing else, those two being in good condition bode well for the prospects of itself and its companions. That was all that mattered. It could put up with some minor indignities for their sake. It would be far from the first time.
Expedition Log: 16th Day of New Blooms
Recorded by: Explorer Valiant-Claw
Strange day today. Everyone is tired. That is to be expected after yesterday. But this is a strange tiredness. Exhaustion of the mind, not the body. I am also affected, even though I ended yesterday in good condition. We did not wander into the Lost Lands. We checked. So we are safe. Verdant-Trail made the decision to delay our survey by one day. One full day of rest and sun should help us recover. We have more than enough supplies to do so without the Transporter to feed.
I am not used to recording the Expedition Log. Or recording anything. My claws and eyes do not suit most writing tools. Combined with the exhaustion, I can only express things simply. But I am the only one who can record at all. Verdant-Trail and Eager-Horizon already fell asleep. The day is barely half-over. I have roused them several times, but they fall back asleep quickly. I am going to sleep soon as well. No stopping it. So I have to make the log now.
Why am I tired?
I should not be this tired.
None of us should be this tired.
Something is wrong.
¡°This is Explorer Valiant-Claw. It has been comatose since the incident.¡± Verdant-Trail gestured at the cushion upon which one of its companions had been placed. The coconut crab lay in a tangled mess of legs and claws, rigid and unmoving, save for the occasional twitch. Its red and blue mottled carapace was partially obscured by the wet cloth that had been draped over it to moisturize it after the long trip here.
¡°Have you been able to feed it anything?¡± Lead Physician Pensive-Pace grunted as one of its claws tested the rigidity of a leg. It gave a bit, and then remained at its new position.
¡°Force-feeding it was at least partially successful. Thankfully it does not need to eat as often as most, but¡¡±
¡°Understood. Able-Heart, you may begin your assessment.¡± The wombat nodded to a nearby serval, who immediately approached and laid a paw on the crab. It was probably Attuned to something useful to medicine. ¡°Verdant-Trail, please follow me.¡±
Pensive-Pace led the Explorer to another part of the infirmary, an isolated observation room of some sort. Everything in the infirmary was bright and clean, but not this room. The normally white stone walls were painted with dark earth tones, and the lamps were covered with thin cloth hoods that diffused and dimmed their light. Inside was a large, round bird, perched on a carved wooden rod affixed to the walls of the room. Its deep brown plumage blended into the background somewhat as its normally bright and attentive eyes stared at the new arrivals vacantly.
¡°This one is of a naturally nocturnal species, though obviously it had practiced a primarily diurnal sleep schedule prior to all of this.¡± The Lead Physician stared up at the bird, its expressions tinged with more unease than it had shown earlier. Whether it was Eager-Horizon¡¯s condition specifically, or simply something it was more willing to show when its subordinates were not present to see, Verdant-Trail couldn¡¯t tell. ¡°Still, a dark, quiet place should help reduce stress. It clearly is not feral, as it obeys simple requests, and it readily eats when provided with food. Has it shown any other signs of awareness?¡± It took a bit for Verdant-Trail to answer. Combing through the past days was difficult, doubly so when it was this tired. ¡°Explorer?¡±
¡°Apologies, I¡¡± The lizard shook its head, trying to recompose itself. ¡°I am told that it has, though I have not witnessed it myself. It seems to react more to¡ Whoever is here when I am not. But even the Invader cannot get it to converse.¡±
¡°I see.¡± Pensive-Pace stared at it for only a moment before dropping all pretense. ¡°Explorer, when was the last time you slept?¡±
¡°Over two days ago.¡±
¡°Then it would be prudent for you to rest before we do anything else. You are in no state to answer questions.¡±
¡°But-¡±
¡°Please do not argue with me. I remember what you told me. But you will not be of use to anyone like this. Besides¡¡± The Physician huffed, dropping its professional facade just enough to show that it was truly sympathetic. ¡°This ¡®Invader¡¯ will need to be interviewed and assessed as well.¡±
¡°If you are sure, then fine.¡± Verdant-Trail hissed, resigning itself to this fate for the time being. ¡°...Can I have something to record a message with?¡±
¡°Of course. Who should I have the message delivered to?¡±
¡°No one. This is for the Invader.¡±
¡°Understood. I will have someone fetch the materials for you.¡± The wombat placed a supportive paw on the lizard¡¯s shoulder. ¡°You may pick from any of the beds here in the infirmary in the meantime. Please rest, you have earned at least that much.¡±
If you can call it ¡®rest.¡¯ The lizard simply nodded in the affirmative, its ability to complain having long faded by this point. The state of its two companions was evidence enough that things could have been much, much worse.
(Scrawled by shaking, unfamiliar claws below the final Expedition Log entry for the failed Border Ruins survey.)
I¡¯m sorry.
I don¡¯t want this anymore.
Send me back.
Please.
I don¡¯t want to die.
I don¡¯t want to kill.
I¡¯m sorry.
Chapter 29: Missing Links
Quiet-Dream¡¯s excitement had very quickly turned to horror when it became obvious just how dire the circumstances were for the new arrivals. One was comatose, one was catatonic, and the only one in any shape to converse was apparently ¡°switching places¡± with their body¡¯s original occupant in some way.
¡°I just don¡¯t get it,¡± the squirrel chirped to no one in particular as he and the other humans, along with Sunny-Plume and Swift-Paw, sat around Song¡¯s pond in the courtyard. The kits were taking the opportunity to scamper about in the grass independently of each other. They were waiting for word on what, if anything, they could do to help, and it was agonizing. ¡°What happened to them? Why is it so different?¡±
¡°...I¡¯m not so sure it is different,¡± Ink-Talon croaked, pacing back and forth like he often did when thinking.
¡°What are you talking about? They¡¯re all¡ inconsistent, and broken. Shouldn¡¯t there be, I don¡¯t know, rules to this?¡± The squirrel gripped the grass beneath his paws, tearing out a few blades in frustration. ¡°Why did they end up in such a bad way when we came out fine, relatively speaking.¡±
¡°Speak for yourself.¡± Song¡¯s tail slapped against the water with surprising force, showering the grass on the opposite side with a light spray. ¡°I¡¯m not that far off from the dragon, all things considered. Just¡ mixed, rather than whatever their arrangement is.¡±
¡°Okay, but that¡¯s from a head injury, right? You¡¯re a bit of an outlier.¡±
¡°Quiet-Dream,¡± Ink-Talon stopped pacing and turned to face him, his tone becoming incredibly serious. ¡°I almost died because my mind and body weren¡¯t connected correctly, remember? I¡¯m only okay now because of medical intervention, like they¡¯re getting now.¡±
¡°But that¡¯s not¡ I mean¡¡±
¡°I can¡¯t actually hear anything higher pitched than a human could,¡± The bat chimed in with a quiet chirp. ¡°I learned that when I decided to try echolocation a few nights ago. I thought it would be neat. I figured out how to make the sounds, but I couldn¡¯t hear them. I could feel myself making them, and the Guardian at the end of the hall even asked me to stop, since the noise was bothering it, but to me, I was silent. I asked a Physician, and it told me that this bat was not hard of hearing before I¡ took over. It¡¯s my mind that can¡¯t process it, not my ears. And I still can¡¯t move my wings right, even after a bunch of practice¡¡±
Quiet-Dream looked hopefully at Maggie for backup, even though they were now in the minority of people without these problems. The myna just shrugged.
¡°Pearl...¡± Sunny-Plume lightly nudged her with a wing.
¡°Okay, fine!¡± Maggie sighed. ¡°Since we¡¯re all apparently in a sharing mood. Before I met any of you, I had to spend a day or two completely relearning how to move, because everything was scrambled. Fingers to tail feathers, wrists to elbows, hips to neck¡ I never brought it up because you all had your own issues to deal with, and it was in the past by that point. There.¡±
¡°So I was the only one who was fine, then? All this time-¡±
¡°Stop it.¡± Maggie cut him off almost immediately. ¡°You¡¯re about to get all mopey and blame yourself just because you can¡¯t read people¡¯s minds, and we¡¯ll have to try and convince you that it¡¯s not your fault, and then the whole day is going to be derailed while you sulk. Please don¡¯t.¡±
¡±Really, Maggie?¡± Ink-Talon shot the myna an annoyed glare.
¡°What? Am I wrong?¡± The awkward silence that followed spoke louder than any answer.
¡°Okay, point taken.¡± Quiet-Dream took a deep breath. Maggie was right, of course. That was where his train of thought had been going. She had his back, even if putting things diplomatically wasn¡¯t her strong suit. ¡°We have more important things to deal with. Like why am I okay? I mean, in terms of mind-to-body stuff. If something protected me, then knowing it may help us help the others.¡±
The group sat in silence for a bit, looking at each other for answers and coming up with nothing. Thankfully, that silence didn¡¯t last forever.
¡°Oh!¡± The bat squeaked, pushing themselves up to a standing position. ¡°Our bodies are all different!¡±
¡°All of you are different species, so that would go without saying, no?¡± Swift-Paw finally spoke up, having been uncharacteristically quiet thus far. ¡°What are you trying to get at? You cannot afford to waste time on philosophizing.¡± It was only now that Quiet-Dream realized that she had been wracking her brain as hard as the rest of them, trying to come up with a way to help.
¡°Not just different from each other, different from how we were! And different in different ways!¡±
¡°I don¡¯t follow,¡± Quiet-Dream chittered, tilting his head a bit.
¡°Okay, so,¡± the bat extended their wings to balance better. ¡°Between all of us, we have one salamander, two birds, and two mammals. I have these weird wings and stumpy legs, so that just leaves you as a mammal with four kinda-normal limbs. The average human could probably learn to be a squirrel way easier than any of our species.¡±
¡°Not to mention our brains,¡± Song added. ¡°Given what we know about Verdant-Trail and myself, I wouldn¡¯t be surprised if the farther you get from a mammal, the less¡ stable your consciousness is.¡±
¡°Huh.¡± Quiet-Dream chirped, a familiar unease creeping into his voice. ¡°That¡¯s a good point, but that means they¡¯re¡¡±
¡°That would mean that our new arrivals are going to have an extremely rough time of it no matter what.¡± Ink-Talon finished his thought. ¡°I¡¯m not sure there¡¯s anything we can do.¡±
¡°Nah,¡± Maggie hopped up onto her feet, self-assured determination practically radiating from her stance. ¡°We just have to get creative, is all.¡±
¡°So, your idea is¡ physical therapy?¡± Lead Physician Pensive-Pace stared at Maggie incredulously.
¡°Well, for the crab, at least,¡± the myna replied. ¡°If their body is so alien that they can¡¯t even begin to move it consciously, then they might not actually be in a coma. They could be paralyzed by the disconnect, but still conscious. If that¡¯s the case, then this should give them an example to latch on to and learn to move. It¡¯s how Sunny has been helping me with my wings.¡± She extended her left wing, and wiggled the wrist joint up and down a bit. ¡°I didn¡¯t even know I had this joint until a few days ago, but when Sunny here pulled on it, I was able to start figuring it out. This method it came up with really does work for this.¡±
¡°I think your tenacity should take the credit for that,¡± Sunny-Plume whistled, shuffling their feet awkwardly.
¡°Just accept the compliment, Pretty-Plume.¡± Maggie tilted her head up and tapped her beak against the flustered kestrel¡¯s, mimicking an exaggerated ¡°mwah¡± sound as she did so. It was so sickly sweet that Pensive-Pace shot the pair a desperate, almost pleading look.
¡°Are you finished?¡±
¡°More or less.¡± The responses to her and Sunny-Plume becoming an item had been varied, as she¡¯d expected. Quiet-Dream and the kits had been extremely happy for her, while Ink-Talon and Song had congratulated them despite clearly keeping some unknown reservations to themselves. The bat was at first confused, and then swiftly excused themselves from the conversation and never brought it up again. As for the rest of the creatures around here, it was just normal to them, save for her extremely human displays of affection. Most creatures found them as excessive as her voice, which obviously did nothing to discourage her.
¡°Well, Explorer Valiant-Claw¡¯s condition is stable for now,¡± the Physician grumbled. ¡°You may attempt your method, but I will be observing. Both to ensure that you do not cause any further harm, and to take notes if it does actually work. Please follow me.¡±
The wombat led the two of them to a corner of the infirmary where the crab was being kept. It was a sad sight, the poor thing curled and splayed out in unnatural ways, their occasional twitching being the only thing to indicate that they were still alive.
¡°So, first I need to let them know what I¡¯m doing,¡± Maggie said, gingerly climbing onto the bed next to the crab. Making sure she positioned herself where their strange little eye-stalks could see her, she began tapping on their carapace with her beak, expressing her message in the force and rhythm of her taps.
¡±Hey, are you in there? I know things are rough, I can¡¯t imagine the hell you¡¯re going through, but I want to help you. My name is Maggie, and I¡¯m human, like you probably are. I¡¯m going to start moving one of your limbs around. If you can feel it, try and focus on the sensation. Pay attention to what parts of you are pulling on other parts. Those are the parts of you that you need to use to move.¡±If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.
Maggie gingerly grasped one of the crab¡¯s legs with her beak and began to move it back and forth, up and down, and bending it at the joints. After a minute or two of this, she stopped, and tapped out another message to the crab.
¡°I hope you felt that. Now, what I need you to do is try to move that leg. Focus on recreating the sensations, of moving the parts of you that you just felt moving. And if you can manage it, try and tell us something with it. You can express yourself with movements, and we¡¯ll Understand you.¡±
Maggie ended her message and stepped back, and the three of them watched and waited. Nothing changed, and the leg remained where Maggie had left it. After what felt like more than enough time, Pensive-Pace spoke up.
¡°It was a good effort, and may be able to help others in the future, but I am afraid that reaching this one may be beyond our means at the moment. I am sorry.¡±
¡°Yeah, I know.¡± Maggie sagged, defeated, and Sunny-Plume preened the feathers on top of her head a bit for comfort. It was worth a try, but still¡ ¡°Thanks for letting me-¡±
¡°Pearl, look!¡± Sunny-Plume squawked, jolting upright and waving a wing towards the crab. The leg Maggie had worked on was twitching, and not in the occasional involuntary way their limbs had been up to that point. The whole group watched with bated breath. After a few more seconds of twitching, the leg halted, and then began to flex. Slowly, it curled inward, and then extended back out just as slowly. The whole process must have taken well over a minute, but the whole time, the message came across, clear as could be.
¡°...Like ¡This?¡±
Okay. Just ¡®get creative,¡¯ she says. Ink-Talon stared at the strange, unresponsive bird in front of him. Maggie was trying something with the crab, and the komodo dragon was apparently catching up on multiple days of missed sleep, so that left this one for him to try and help. Dunno how I¡¯m supposed to do that. The only thing I really have going for me that a doctor doesn¡¯t is my Attunement. If I could just expand that awareness, maybe I could figure out something. But I haven¡¯t been able to figure it out any time I¡¯ve tried. But surely someone here must know more about that¡
¡°Excuse me, Physician Able-Heart?¡± The crow turned to the serval observing his visit from the side of the room. ¡°Do you know anything about Attunement?¡±
¡°As the College¡¯s resident Attuned Physician, plenty, why?¡± The cat tilted its head.
¡°Oh, so you must have already tried this. I¡¯m Attuned myself, but only to my own body, and I was wondering if I could¡ extend that, somehow, to try and figure out what¡¯s wrong with them.¡±
¡°It certainly would not hurt anything to try, and you may still find something.¡± Able-Heart stretched and stood up. It was only a little taller than a domestic housecat, but far more lithe and wiry in its proportions. It still could probably eat a bird like him for lunch, and his experience being overwhelmed by the raw speed of Golden-Streak still left him on-edge as it approached. ¡°Not to mention, if you have already sacrificed so much to be Attuned, it would be prudent to know how to properly utilize it. What aspect of yourself are you Attuned to? ¡±
¡°What¡ aspect?¡± It was Ink-Talon¡¯s turn to tilt his head, confused by the question.
¡°Yes. How you extend your awareness changes depending on that. I am Attuned to the structure of the body, the integrity of flesh and bone, so I was only able to verify that the afflicted Explorers were not injured. A different, more specialized Attunement could certainly find things that mine could not.¡±
¡°I don¡¯t think I¡¯m Attuned to any specific aspect of myself like that. I¡¯m aware of all of it.¡± Ink-Talon casually clicked his answer, only to find Able-Heart staring at him, its expression entirely unreadable.
¡°All of it.¡±
¡°Yeah?¡±
¡°Every aspect? Bone structure, organ health, musculature, limb position, neurology, dietary needs, feather condition, hormonal balance, toxicity? All of those and more?¡±
¡°...Yes?¡± Ink-Talon nervously chirped his reply. ¡°That¡¯s a good thing, right?¡±
¡°No!¡± The serval yowled at him before composing itself somewhat. ¡°Apologies for being rude, but what kind of hackneyed, ill-conceived method of Attuning yourself did you use?¡±
¡°I¡¯m¡ not sure?¡± Ink-Talon thought back to that horrible night. He knew the gist of what had happened, but he¡¯d been informed of that after the fact. The actual events and process had been rendered an incoherent blur in his memory thanks to his sleep deprivation. Of course, he could mention Physician Mindful-Sight¡¯s involvement, but he¡¯d gotten the impression that the chameleon wasn¡¯t supposed to have done what it did for him, so he decided to keep that part to himself for now. ¡°I wasn¡¯t entirely lucid when it happened, and it was over before I really knew what was going on.¡±
¡°Over before- how- that¡¯s-¡± The Physician failed to growl out a coherent thought and paused, shutting its eyes and taking a deep breath before swiftly and repeatedly ramming its head into the crow¡¯s side, shoving him towards the exit. ¡°Out! Out! Into my office! Now!¡±
Able-Heart¡¯s ¡°office,¡± if it could be called that, was a curtained-off room built in a corner of the Infirmary that had about as much floor space as a human supply closet. Even by ¡°small animal¡± standards, it was tiny. In that limited space, there were two simple cushions for seating, one small angled wedge of polished wood for writing on, and then piles and piles of paper. Records, reference materials, messages, and uncountable other things were strewn about with no sense of organization or care. They even had to step over them to get to the cushions.
¡°Be careful of the papers, I do not usually have patients in here.¡± The cat sat down on a cushion opposite Ink-Talon and studied him, a vague sense of disbelief being the only thing he could get from it.
¡°Wait, am I still a patient?¡± The crow clicked the question. ¡°I thought the Lead Physician cleared us all.¡±
¡°It did. You, however, have a different problem than your altered memories and identity.¡± Able-Heart¡¯s gaze intensified. It was deathly serious. ¡°Attunement is a delicate process that can take years to accomplish properly. This is because doing it faster means that less precise control is asserted over what one becomes Attuned to. Rushed or otherwise botched Attunements can be crippling, flooding the mind with so much extraneous information that it becomes impossible to process anything else. If you really are Attuned to that breadth of detail, I am astonished that you are able to function.¡±
¡°Well, mostly I become aware of something if it¡ causes a problem, I guess? Like when I get hurt, or I¡¯m feeling sick, or I¡¯m trying to do something physical.¡± Ink-Talon thought back to all the ways he¡¯d used that awareness, and all the ways he hadn¡¯t. ¡°And it doesn¡¯t exactly let me know ahead of time if I¡¯m going to cause a problem. More than once I¡¯ve exhausted myself unexpectedly, only to be made aware that I¡¯m exhausted when I¡¯m literally about to collapse. Basically, if it isn¡¯t actively harming or hindering me, it¡¯s filtered out as usual.¡±
¡°And you just¡ Attuned yourself to something that specific while only barely conscious, in an incredibly short amount of time-¡± The Physician stopped mid expression, its eyes widening for a moment before immediately narrowing to an angry glare. ¡°Mindful-Sight.¡± It growled the name, digging its claws into the cushion and easily puncturing the thick cloth casing. ¡°You were in Deep¡¯s End. Of course. And I was foolish enough to think that Scholar Ink-Talon had Attuned itself of its own volition. Of all the reckless, amoral, self-aggrandizing experiments it could have performed, especially after promising-¡±
¡°Hey!¡± Ink-Talon squawked, flaring his wings in protest. ¡°Mindful-Sight saved my life! I was suffering from similar problems to the new arrivals here, and wouldn¡¯t have survived if it hadn¡¯t helped me Attune to myself! Isn¡¯t that what a Physician is supposed to do?¡± He stood up and fluttered back to the exit, not caring that his wingbeats were scattering papers about. ¡°Look, you can either stay mad about some random taboo that I wouldn¡¯t want it to take back if it could, or you can do your job and help me help someone else. Either way, I¡¯m done talking about this.¡±
Able-Heart didn¡¯t audibly reply, and Ink-Talon didn¡¯t even bother looking back as he pushed through the curtain and flew back over to the dark-room. Looking back from the doorway, he didn¡¯t spot the Physician following him, and he was more than happy to put that entire interaction behind him. Upon reentering the dark-room, he fluttered up onto the broken bird¡¯s perch and stared at it before extending a wing.
¡°May I?¡± he asked, out of courtesy more than anything, unsurprised when they answered with their usual blank stare. ¡°Thanks. Now let¡¯s see if I can actually do some good, for once.¡± Placing the wing on the smaller bird¡¯s back, he closed his eyes and focused.
What am I aware of? Multiple things came to mind, none of them relevant. He sifted through things like the grip strength of his talons, his center of gravity, and how it was getting close to the time he usually ate an evening meal, and eventually landed on something at least adjacent to the other bird. It was the point of contact with his wing, how much force he was applying, and how much force he could be applying if he pushed as hard as he could. Okay, but what about them? Give me something on them! He strained his mind, clenching his beak and talons, but only came up with the fact that the other bird¡¯s grip on the perch had enough give that he could probably shove them off if he wanted to. He did not, obviously. Opening his eyes, the crow made a low, frustrated croaking sound as he slumped on the perch, utterly defeated.
¡°The key for you would be conceptualization, I think.¡± A tentative meow from the floor distracted Ink-Talon from his failure for a moment. Physician Able-Heart stared up at him, its emotions unclear. ¡°In order to extend the awareness granted by Attunement, one must re-frame what they are examining so that it more easily falls under their Attunement¡¯s purview. You are Attuned to the state of your body, but filtered through a general idea of what is impeding your current needs or desires. I believe you will need to conceptualize Eager-Horizon¡¯s plight as your own, or otherwise view it as an obstacle to your goals, specifically.¡±
¡°Okay. I¡¯ll give it a try.¡± Ink-Talon once more gently touched the other bird with his wing, this time with something new to focus on. Their problems are my problems¡ Them being like this is getting in the way¡ of what? He was struggling to center himself in all of this. It was ironic. In order to help, he¡¯d have to force himself into a more selfish state of mind. Besides their own well being, I want to find out what¡¯s wrong because¡ He almost dismissed the first thing that came to mind before thinking better of it. This was just for him, whatever his first impulse would be was probably worth a shot. ...Because that¡¯s Quiet-Dream¡¯s goal. He wants to help other humans, and I want him to succeed. Their problems are Quiet-Dream¡¯s problems are my problems. And we aren¡¯t going to be able to overcome this unless I can¡
There was a spark of intuition, and then he knew. It was as if someone had flipped a switch and he learned exactly what the problem was, and it only took a little bit of further reasoning to come up with an idea of how to fix it.
To put it simply, they¡¯d need to turn them off and on again.
Chapter 30: The Alternate
(A message from Explorer Verdant-Trail, left folded beside its bed in the infirmary)
Invader,
We have arrived in Darksoil, and are receiving medical treatment at the College there. You have my thanks for cooperating and continuing the journey in my stead, however, I was determined to finish the journey as myself, and did not sleep for the remaining two days of the journey. You will have to bear the brunt of the consequences, and I apologize for that.
There are others of your kind here. They will no doubt wish to speak with you. I think you should. If my experience as of late has been lonely, yours could only be more so. I only ask that you do not make long term plans with them, as I intend on returning home as soon as I am sure that Eager-Horizon and Valiant-Claw are safe. The Guild needs me. You have cooperated so far without question, but please try to relax and enjoy yourself. Both for our shared health, and because I do not relish the idea of holding you prisoner for a crime you did not willingly commit. If I must do so, then I would prefer that you be treated well.
Take care of yourself, for both of our sake.
Every muscle in Chase¡¯s body ached, the pain highlighting the contours of his reptilian form. Verdant-Trail certainly hadn¡¯t been exaggerating about the ¡°consequences¡± of the time since he was last conscious. He didn¡¯t resent them for it, he deserved this several times over for the hell he was putting them through. Perhaps worse than the pain, though, was the battery of questions he was given by several different animals, seemingly the equivalent of doctors or nurses, about his health and state of mind. He didn¡¯t really pay attention or think too deeply about his answers, just giving a simple yes or no to each one. He needed to get out of this room. He needed to get outside. The moment he was free to move about, he was given directions to the College¡¯s central courtyard, an open, grassy space with a few trees and a pond.
His long, forked tongue flicked out of his mouth on its own accord to ¡°taste¡± the fresh air. He hated it, not because it was gross, but because he could never make any sense of what his combined sense of smell and taste was actually picking up. So it was just a weird thing he¡¯d reflexively do that would briefly bombard his mind with unintelligible nonsense every time. But after about a week like this from his perspective, he¡¯d managed to bring down his discomfort to cringing a bit at worst, unless something particularly odious was nearby. But of course, this was natural for Verdant-Trail. His discomfort was an alien imposition on this body, same as the rest of him.
Thankfully, the courtyard was relatively empty. He found a thick patch of grass in the sun and laid down, resting his head on his forelegs as he closed his eyes and let the warmth of the sun work its magic.
Warm and cold were entirely different states of being in this body. Warmth was alertness, and pain, and thought. Cold was sleep, and numbness, and empty-minded simplicity. Part of him enjoyed being a little cold, it made it hard to think about all the things he wished he didn¡¯t think about. But this wasn¡¯t his body to abuse. Reptiles needed external warmth to live, and so he was obligated to seek it, even if it made him more self-conscious and self-aware.
¡°Hello?¡± Chase opened his eyes after some time to find a small gray squirrel staring at him. They reared up on their hind legs and waved a paw at him in a way only a former human would. ¡°Sorry to interrupt your sunbathing, but I¡¯d heard you were awake and I don¡¯t know how long you¡¯ll be sticking around, so I wanted to introduce myself before you¡ left.¡±
¡°You¡¯re¡ like me, then?¡± The Komodo dragon raised his head and hissed his response. He only really had two vocalizations he was capable of making. A sustained hiss, and a low, rumbling growl. Both of them sounded menacing to him, no matter how hard he tried to be friendly, but thankfully other animals never interpreted them that way. The squirrel, however, flinched at the sound. A perfectly human response.
¡°Human, yeah.¡± The squirrel set themselves back down on all fours. ¡°I¡¯m Quiet-Dream, do you have a name?¡±
¡°Chase.¡± The dragon cocked his head at the question. ¡°Is that your original¡¯s name? Why change yours?¡±
¡°Oh!¡± Quiet-Dream chirped, clearly surprised. ¡°Your name translated perfectly! You¡¯re the first human I¡¯ve met here to be so lucky. Our names are Understood literally, even in our own minds. For some of us, that turned it into ¡®me¡¯ or ¡®myself,¡¯ so we¡¯ve had to adopt ¡®native¡¯ ones.¡±
¡°That makes sense.¡± Chase nodded. He was just relieved that they hadn¡¯t assumed the identities of the original creatures. Verdant-Trail never would have forgiven him if he¡¯d attempted that. ¡°How many of us are there here? Have you learned anything helpful? How are the originals holding up?¡±
The squirrel handled the barrage of questions as gracefully as they could, and began the long process of filling him in on what had happened from their own point of view. The beginning was quite familiar. Lots of panic, distress, and despair. However, that was where most of the similarities between their experiences ended. They had all well and truly replaced the original creatures in their bodies, and had been left in the hands of the native creatures while they struggled to figure out what was going on. Eventually, they¡¯d been sent here, where they were essentially being held in the Guardians¡¯ custody until a better solution was found.
¡°So, it¡¯s just been you in your body the whole time? Not even a hint of the original squirrel?¡±
¡°No, and I was curious about that.¡± Quiet-Dream looked the dragon up and down, as if he were trying to find a sign of something. ¡°How does that work for you?¡±
¡°Pretty straightforward, really,¡± Chase waved a claw dismissively. ¡°Whenever I fall asleep or lose consciousness, it¡¯s Explorer Verdant-Trail who wakes up afterward, and the reverse goes for them. Neither of us are present or have any memory of what the other does, save for the occasional bit of d¨¦j¨¤ vu.¡± He looked down at the long, sharp claws on the end of his feet and idly cut a small circle through the grass and dirt in front of him. ¡°I just got lucky, I guess.¡±
¡°Lucky, how?¡± Quiet-Dream squeaked in a mixture of confusion and concern. ¡°It sounds to me like things have been really rough for you.¡±
¡°Because I have someone to tell me what to do, and someone I can make it up to for ruining their life.¡±
¡°That¡¯s not¡¡± Quiet-Dream trailed off, his protest faltering as he thought about it. ¡°Look, I understand how you feel. I¡¯ve done everything I can to do right by Keen-Ear, including looking after her kits. But you shouldn¡¯t hold yourself responsible to that extent. We¡¯re all just people put here by happenstance.¡±
¡°Are we?¡± Chase growled, standing up. ¡°Are you sure we didn¡¯t wish for this? Are you sure we didn¡¯t all want this, somewhere deep down? Are you sure some god with a strong sense of irony didn¡¯t just decide to give it to us?¡±
¡°What?¡±
¡°Because I wished for this! I decided to go for a hike in the woods with no intention of ever coming back, and I had the idea that everything would be better if I could just be something else, if I could just vanish without a trace! And then I woke up here, terrified that I¡¯d taken a life to live in their body, like you all apparently have.¡± Chase¡¯s claws dug a multitude of gouges into the soil beneath his feet, and he lowered his head to Quiet-Dream¡¯s eye level, inadvertently causing his tongue to flick out a few inches from the frightened squirrel¡¯s face. ¡°Luckily, I¡¯ve only taken half a life, and I intend to do everything in my power to lessen the damage I¡¯ve done.¡± He lumbered away, ignoring any counterarguments from Quiet-Dream entirely. He refused to budge on this.This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.
Thankfully, the squirrel had the sense not to follow him back inside. He regretted having his first interaction with another human in this world go so badly, especially since he hadn¡¯t seemed like a bad person. Quiet-Dream was just someone else trying to do their best in much the same way he was. He almost certainly hadn¡¯t deserved that level of explosive anger, since they had more in common than not. But that was exactly why he had to come down as hard as he did on that point. Quiet-Dream and the others had the latitude to do what they thought was best with the life they¡¯d taken over, because there was no other option. He had explicit guidance on how to help Verdant-Trail live the life they wanted to live, from Verdant-Trail themselves. He had a duty to follow it, and he needed them all to understand that.
The first thing Chase did upon returning to the infirmary was check in on Valiant-Claw and Eager-Horizon. They were Verdant-Trail¡¯s friends, or had been, at least. Chances are that whatever minds resided within them, if any, were of humans, like him. Still, Verdant-Trail¡¯s mission was to make sure they were being cared for, and that meant that caring for them was his mission, too.
Valiant-Claw was awake. One of the other humans had used their experience with bodily disconnects to correctly guess what the problem was, and what could be done to help them recover. The Physician tending to them said that he was free to converse with them, but with only partial control of two limbs at the moment, it would be a somewhat limited one.
¡°Hello,¡± Chase nodded a greeting as he laid down in front of the crab. They had been positioned with most of their legs curled under them while their claws hung over the front of the cushion a bit. Their two frontmost legs were splayed out to either side of them, though, and twitched a bit before slowly moving to respond.
¡°...Verdant-Trail? ¡Or ¡Chase?¡±
¡°Chase.¡± He nodded again, caught off-guard by the question. ¡°You know my name already?¡±
¡°...Been awake ¡most days. ¡Good at ¡watching ¡and listening.¡±
¡°I¡¯m so sorry,¡± Chase growled, bowing his head a bit. ¡°If I¡¯d known you were conscious, I would have¡¡± He didn¡¯t know what he would have done, other than feel guilty about it.
¡°...Not ¡your fault. ¡You both ¡did your best. ¡I¡¯m ¡used to this. ¡Perk of ¡being old.¡± The crab¡¯s movements paused as they considered what to say next. ¡°¡This world is ¡interesting. ¡Wasn¡¯t bored. ¡Helped to know ¡people cared.¡± They paused again, before only lifting one leg briefly. ¡°...Tired.¡±
¡°Got it, this must take a lot out of you right now,¡± Chase hissed and stood up. ¡°I¡¯ll let you rest. Verdant-Trail will want to talk with you tomorrow.¡±
¡°...Thank you, Chase.¡±
It was an incredibly simple statement. One that a human would give without a second thought, sincere or not. And yet he still felt like he¡¯d been punched in the gut. What thanks did he deserve for trying to navigate this disaster that he was partly the cause of? But it was still freely, sincerely given. He was appreciated. For some reason.
He just wanted to go lay down. He couldn¡¯t afford to sleep just yet, not without messing up Verdant-Trail¡¯s next day, but he was still exhausted. Checking in on Eager-Horizon could wait for a bit. Unfortunately for him, he had a visitor of his own: a large, black crow was perched on the bed next to his, waiting expectantly. Unless there was another crow around here who would be interested in him, this was likely Ink-Talon, one of the humans mentioned by Quiet-Dream in his summary of events.
¡°Hey!¡± The crow squawked and waved a wing at him. ¡°Was hoping you¡¯d come by, I have some news for you.¡±
¡°Good news, or bad news?¡± Chase flopped onto his own bed, angling his head to keep looking at the bird.
¡°Good-to-neutral, depending on the outcome.¡± The crow clicked his beak after pondering the question a bit. ¡°I¡¯m Ink-Talon, by the way.¡±
¡°Chase.¡± He raised a single claw, which Ink-Talon gripped with one foot to gently shake. It was a strangely satisfying action for something so simple. ¡°Heard about you from Quiet-Dream.¡±
¡°Oh, good, I was worried he¡¯d missed you. Hope he wasn¡¯t too overbearing. He¡¯s been really anxious about the whole situation with you three and wants to help more than anything.¡±
¡°...No, he was fine.¡± Chase suppressed the urge to cringe as his own actions replayed in his mind. ¡°If anything, I was the overbearing one in that conversation.¡±
¡°Fair enough.¡± Ink-Talon nodded. ¡°You look absolutely exhausted, so I¡¯ll get to the news. I was working with the Physicians to try and help Eager-Horizon, and we think we have a potential treatment. If all goes well, they could be conscious sometime in the next few days.¡±
¡°That¡¯s good. Verdant-Trail will be relieved to learn that.¡±
¡°And what about you?¡± Ink-Talon chirped. ¡°With both them and the crab on the path to recovery, Verdant-Trail is going to take you both back to the Highnests, right? Are you going to be okay?¡±
¡°You read their message.¡± Chase growled, raising his head as he felt a sudden spike of anger at the invasion of both his and Verdant-Trail¡¯s privacy.
¡°I didn¡¯t mean to!¡± the crow cawed, stepping back and flaring his wings. ¡°It was just lying open on the floor, and it was really short. I didn¡¯t even put together what it was until I¡¯d already finished it.¡± He gestured behind him where the message was indeed laying open on the floor, knocked over and left there either by himself in his rush to get some fresh air, or by one of the doctors. Unless Ink-Talon was lying, of course. He seemed sincere, but he couldn¡¯t be completely sure. ¡°But between that and what the Physicians said about how you were acting this morning, I¡¯m¡ concerned.¡±
¡°Okay, get it over with, then.¡± Chase stood up and walked over to the misplaced note. ¡°Try and convince me that I shouldn¡¯t cooperate with Verdant-Trail. That I should fight to stay here.¡± He awkwardly folded it over again with two claws, then picked it up in his mouth and shoved it under the bed.
¡°Actually, I think it¡¯s admirable to form a partnership like that,¡± Ink-Talon said. ¡°Working towards a common goal with the original occupant of your body is a good thing, for both of you.¡± He came off like he was speaking from experience, even though that was impossible from what Quiet-Dream had told him. ¡°But that¡¯s why I¡¯m asking if you will be okay. I might be reading into it too much, but Verdant-Trail seems worried about you. It asked you to take care of yourself, and to actually enjoy things. It wants you to be happy.¡±
¡°Whatever Verdant-Trail wants is what will make me happy,¡± Chase hissed without a second thought.
¡°Do you really think that? Or are you just trying to pay off a debt you never will?¡± The Komodo dragon tensed up, ready to snap back at the accusation, but was stopped by the overwhelming sense that the crow knew exactly what he was talking about. If one thing was certain about Ink-Talon, it was that he knew more about their condition than he was letting on. ¡°It even calls you ¡®Invader,¡¯ despite clearly not holding you in enough contempt to justify the title. Have you even told it your name? Do you want it to keep calling you that? Is that supposed to be a punishment? Who does that help?¡±
¡°I can¡¯t deal with this right now.¡± Chase fell back onto the bed, choosing to completely give up on the conversation rather than even attempt to respond. ¡°Leave me alone.¡±
¡°Okay, sorry to push like that.¡± Ink-Talon nodded and hopped down to the floor without a hint of protest. His head ducked out of view for a moment as he seemed to tug at something under the bed. His beak was empty when he stood back up, though, so he hadn¡¯t taken anything. ¡°Don¡¯t be a stranger, Chase.¡±
The crow took to the air and flew across the room, landing at the exit and shooting him one last glance before pushing through the curtain to leave. Craning his neck a bit, Chase peered down to see what he¡¯d messed with under the bed before he¡¯d left. He¡¯d pulled a charcoal stick free, almost certainly the one Verdant-Trail had used to write their message to him. It must have gotten kicked under the cushion at some point.
¡¯Don¡¯t be a stranger.¡¯ Right. He fished the message from Verdant-Trail back out and re-read it. Everything Ink-Talon had said about it was true, of course. The Explorer was concerned for his well-being, and had instructed him to take care of himself. However, the part about ¡®a crime he didn¡¯t willingly commit¡¯ was unfortunately misinformed by what they¡¯d heard of the other humans here. Not because it was incorrect, but because Verdant-Trail didn¡¯t have the full picture. It didn¡¯t matter if he didn¡¯t technically choose this. He knew, deep down, that if he¡¯d actually been given a choice that day, knowing all the consequences and harm to others it would cause, he¡¯d have chosen to come here all the same. In that moment, he¡¯d have chosen any horrible fate for himself and others to avoid actually facing his problems. That was the kind of person he¡¯d been. That was who he never wanted to be again.
Chase flipped the paper over, exposing the blank backside, and gingerly picked up the charcoal stick between two claws. Using his snout to help nudge a third claw into some semblance of a workable writing grip, he began his own message with a simple declaration:
¡±My name is Chase.¡±
Chapter 31: Theoretical Conspiracies
Quiet-Dream learned two very important things about himself in the days following the Explorers¡¯ arrival.
First, what meager diplomatic skills he possessed completely crumbled in the face of anyone with remotely complicated problems. He learned the hard way with Chase that his first instinct was to project and repeat good advice that others had given to him with no regard for the fact that not everyone¡¯s problems stemmed from the same stable of insecurities that fueled his own. His conversation with a better-rested Verdant-Trail the following day didn¡¯t end in disaster, but he likewise found himself unable to contribute or offer any comfort beyond simple condolences. Whatever he thought his role would be in his idealistic ¡°find a home for humans¡± goal, being the ¡°face¡± of things wouldn¡¯t be it.
Second, he was far, far better at reading other people than he had ever given himself credit for.
¡°They¡¯re being lied to, Ink-Talon,¡± Quiet-Dream waved his paws at the crow, articulating his point silently while the two stood alone in Ink-Talon¡¯s bedroom, the only way they could be absolutely sure that no one was eavesdropping on the conversation. ¡°The Guardians have no intention of letting Explorer Verdant-Trail¡¯s letter home be delivered once they write it, and they¡¯re not going to let them leave when they decide that they¡¯re ready. The Explorer being the leader between the two of them doesn¡¯t matter to them when Chase has control of their body half the time. Chase existing at all makes them untrustworthy by their standards.¡±
¡°Are you sure you aren¡¯t reading way too far into this?¡± Ink-Talon waved a wing back. ¡°I doubt you could Understand any deeper meaning to that conversation than Verdant-Trail could.¡±
¡°No, I didn¡¯t Understand things differently. But I know weasel words and lies of omission when I hear them.¡±
¡°Quiet-Dream, they don¡¯t use words,¡± the crow sighed, tapping his own beak with a wingtip. ¡°Our minds are just making them up for us to Understand them.¡±
¡°Exactly, that¡¯s what puts us in a better position to catch these things!¡± Quiet-Dream stamped a forepaw. ¡°In our world, lies are way more nuanced. We have to rely on intuition to detect them. In this world, if you intend to say something false, then people will Understand that you¡¯re lying if they¡¯re paying any attention. We¡¯ve told our story at least a dozen times already, and every time, people either believe us, or believe that we believe it. Never once has anyone assumed that we are deliberately lying, despite how wild and absurd this all is.¡± He took a step forward and looked the crow dead in the eyes. ¡°However, if what you say is technically true, and you express it with the intent to express that exact information and nothing else, then others will Understand it as true, even if you are omitting important details or presenting things in such a way to prompt someone to make a false assumption. Understanding¡¯s reliability makes people extremely trusting. That trust can be exploited. We don¡¯t have that same conditioning, and we have always had to think critically about what we are told. We can pick up on the deception far more easily than they can.¡±
¡°That¡¯s¡ really cynical.¡± Ink-Talon¡¯s posture sagged as he shuffled his feet. ¡°Is that really how you¡¯ve gone through life? Doubting the motives of everyone you meet?¡±
¡°I was¡ Look, that¡¯s the past.¡± The squirrel shook his head, trying not to think too hard about the person he was a long time ago. ¡°What matters here is that I know what this kind of manipulation looks like. I don¡¯t have to Understand it to intuit it the normal, human way. We have to do something.¡±
¡°And what if you¡¯re wrong? They¡¯re not humans, we can¡¯t just assume things like that! Plus, we¡¯re trying to prove that we¡¯re normal, trustworthy people!¡± The crow flared his left wing out and intensified his stare. ¡°Maggie¡¯s entire Consensus plan hinges on it. Do you really want to jeopardize that for a hunch?¡±
The argument went nowhere, in the end. Try as he might, Quiet-Dream couldn¡¯t come up with a convincing argument for action that wasn¡¯t based entirely on a hunch, or vibes, or intuition, or whatever he wanted to label it as. He agreed to let it go and go rest. It was clear that Ink-Talon was still worried about his mental health. From his point of view, every time it seemed like Quiet-Dream made headway, something new would come up and he¡¯d be stressing over it again. But this was different. He wasn¡¯t overly anxious, he was motivated. He knew something about this was wrong, and he¡¯d figure out what it was.
That evening, he left the kits with Swift-Paw and went to visit Archivist Sharp-Search in the library. The Archivist met him at the door and dismissed his Guardian escort. The extremely bored Coyote was more than happy to take a break, and took up lounging on the opposite side of the hall to wait for him to leave.The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.
¡°You are not the type to independently research something,¡± Sharp-Search grunted as soon as the two were alone. It was a completely accurate assessment, if blunt. ¡°Does this have something to do with the trio of afflicted Explorers in the infirmary?¡±
¡°Yes,¡± Quiet-Dream nodded. ¡°Explorer Verdant-Trail sent a letter home to their Explorer¡¯s Guild today, and I wanted to see if you had any records of it. I was also curious about how long distance messages like that are handled.¡±
¡°I am sure I can find information on both of those for you, though I am curious why the latter interests you.¡± The porcupine eyed him suspiciously, and he shot a glance back towards the heavy door to the library. It did a good job of blocking noise, but his ears could still pick up the occasional bit of sound from the hall beyond it. Those were from particularly loud animals, though, and he had exceptional hearing, so he was fairly confident that no one would overhear two rodents quietly chattering to each other.
¡°Can you promise to keep a secret?¡± Quiet-Dream asked, deciding to come clean.
¡°As long as it does not endanger anyone, gladly.¡±
¡°I believe that the Guardians are planning on keeping the Explorer¡¯s messages from being delivered. I want to find out why.¡±
¡°A conspiracy?¡± Sharp-Search¡¯s small, round ears, typically held flat against their head, immediately perked up. They were intensely interested in the prospect. Excited by it, even. ¡°You other-world creatures certainly bring all manner of mystery and intrigue with you, and I very much like that. Shall we see what we can uncover?¡± They gestured towards the containers and shelves behind them eagerly.
¡°Thank you. This means a lot to me.¡± Quiet-Dream smiled. It was a strange expression for this face, as he just ended up baring his teeth, but he¡¯d decided to start doing it again for his own comfort if nothing else. Otherwise it dampened the brief moments of comfort or joy he did find in this world, forcibly flattening his affect from his own perspective, if not that of others.
¡°And it means a lot to me that you have given me more to do in my role than file things away or report historical numbers,¡± the Archivist nodded, before pausing and tilting their head with concern. ¡°However¡ We should start over here.¡± They led him over to a corner of the room where a small, unmarked basket sat in isolation, and began to rifle through its contents.
¡°What do you keep here?¡± Quiet-Dream asked, too small to see inside from the ground.
¡°Personal items. Here.¡± Sharp-Search emerged from the basket with something long and thin grasped in their jaws, which they then tossed at the squirrel¡¯s feet with a flick of their neck. ¡°Use this while I gather the relevant material to read.¡±
¡°What is it?¡± Quiet-Dream bent down to examine it. It seemed to be a squared-off wooden rod of some sort, sanded extremely smooth and smelling strongly of fresh pine. It was cut relatively recently.
¡°Something for you to chew on. You¡¯ve clearly been neglecting your teeth, if you even know how to care for them in the first place.¡±
¡°Oh.¡± Swift-Paw had told him as much on their first night here, and he¡¯d been given a small bundle of twigs to cut his teeth on, literally. But he¡¯d put it off and subsequently forgot about it in the shuffle of moving rooms and everything else. And now that it was being pointed out to him, he couldn¡¯t stop noticing that his lower incisors would just barely brush against the roof of his mouth when he moved his jaw in certain ways. ¡°Y-yeah. I don¡¯t really know what I¡¯m doing here. I know that rodents have to wear down their incisors manually, but I¡¯ve never had to do it myself, obviously. I don¡¯t¡ eat the stick, do I?¡±
¡°No.¡± Sharp-Search sighed, but it was clear that they were more amused than annoyed. ¡°You don¡¯t bite to take pieces off, you bite to wear down the tips of your incisors. It is closer to carving than eating.¡± They retrieved a second stick from the basket, this one already noticeably worn down on one end, and demonstrated. ¡°Align your incisors such that the force of the bite is evenly distributed among them, and none of it is on your cheek teeth. Then, repeatedly bite down, taking care not to pull your teeth across the surface. That can lead to chipping and uneven wear, not to mention making a mess of whatever you¡¯re chewing on.¡± After watching the porcupine work for a minute, Quiet-Dream felt like he had the gist of it and set to work on the stick he¡¯d been gifted. It felt strange and wrong, not just because of how inhumanly proportioned his teeth were, but also because it didn¡¯t hurt at all. He was putting pressure on his teeth and jaw that would have been absurdly painful for a human mouth, but here it was just kinda tense.
¡°How long should I do this for?¡± He asked, his squeak muffled slightly by the combination of the stick and his posture.
¡°Right now, until I find what we¡¯re looking for. In the future, it would be prudent to do it whenever you have an idle moment that would otherwise be spent doing nothing, at least until your mouth is in a healthier state.¡±
Throughout all of this lesson in dental hygiene, one thing was exceedingly clear: Sharp-Search loved nothing more than being able to share knowledge with someone in need of it. They¡¯d squeak and bounce and just carry themselves with far more energy and self-respect than they ever did otherwise. It made Quiet-Dream wonder just how little their expertise was utilized by the Scholars if something as banal as this brought them joy. He was happy to give them something fulfilling to do, but he couldn¡¯t help but feel sorry for them. Once he and Maggie had finished with their respective ¡°projects,¡± the status quo would almost certainly set back in for them. The Archivist would once more have no one to teach.
He couldn¡¯t help but wonder if Sharp-Search would be open to the idea of taking on an apprentice, at least in the short term. He¡¯d have to ask when this investigation concluded. Maybe this could be something he¡¯d be good at, something to put his focus on details to more use than just being paranoid. Something he could use to help guide everyone else in this world. He had no idea if he¡¯d ever make a good leader, but with this he didn¡¯t have to. For now, maybe he could just learn.
Chapter 32: Bat Out of Hell
The bat found themselves in a now familiar spot. They stood on the ledge leading from their room to the courtyard, staring at the arrangement of three blankets laid out to break their inevitable fall. This technique hadn¡¯t had any success so far, but it was all they could do. Sighing, they wobbled forward and fell.
On average, it took them 1.8 seconds to hit the ground when falling from this window. The fastest they had yet managed to completely spread their wings while standing was 1.3 seconds, if they concentrated as hard as they could and stopped trying to hold themselves upright. They had yet to manage to fully unfurl their wings before hitting the ground from a fall, it was a significantly more difficult task when doing it unevenly would just cause them to spin out to one side and crash. And even if they did manage it, actually turning that fall into flight would be even harder and more precise.
0.9 seconds into the fall, they had managed to fully spread¡ just their right wing, immediately rolling to the left and landing on their back with a muffled thud. Thankfully, the only thing hurt was their pride, but their pride had been so thoroughly bruised that even routine failures had become utterly disheartening.
That¡¯s failure number thirty nine. I don¡¯t think I¡¯m ready for forty just yet. They took a deep breath to calm themselves before rolling over and struggling onto their wingtips. They wanted nothing more than to just lay there, but unfortunately the full brunt of the sun was rather uncomfortable on the thin skin of the membranes across their wings. They didn¡¯t even want to think about the kind of pain they¡¯d be in if those things got sunburnt.
It only took about forty three seconds for them to crawl their way over to a shady spot under a nearby tree, and they had managed to do so without tripping, so they had at least one small thing to be proud of today. What they would never be able to pride themselves on, however, was their terrible eyesight in bright daylight. What looked like either a tree root or a rock in the distance was actually the massive form of a komodo dragon, idly sunning itself on the edge of the shade. The bat couldn¡¯t help but let out a startled squeak when their eyes adjusted to the shade and showed them exactly what they were standing next to.
¡°Oh?¡± The lizard lifted its head and turned an eye to face the creature that had interrupted its sunbathing. ¡°Can I help you?¡±
The bat failed to reply, for the same reason they failed to move. They were rooted in place, paralyzed by some kind of primal fear in the face of the predator. They¡¯d felt uneasy around larger creatures ever since ending up in this body, but this is the first time they¡¯d ever been this close to any of them, much less be made to stare one in the face. Previously, they¡¯d done a good job of deliberately avoiding them. Now, there was nothing they could do.
¡°You are one of¡ Chase¡¯s kind, correct? The nameless one?¡±
The bat didn¡¯t answer, their mind racing and their heart beating at about eight hundred and-
The numbers! Just focus on the numbers! Something to count! About the only shred of logic they were able to muster in that moment went to the only concrete concept they could latch on to in an attempt to ground themselves.
There are eleven blades of grass touching my left wing. A nearby cricket is chirping once every 3.47 seconds on average. The tree has five exposed roots visible from this angle. The wall behind the dragon has twenty eight openings to private rooms. Sixteen of them are visibly shuttered. There are-
¡°Stop.¡± A gentle but firm pressure on the bat¡¯s head and a sudden change in lighting conditions broke their concentration and dragged them back to reality. The lizard had covered their face with one of their feet, keeping their toes splayed as wide as they could so that their claws were as far out of view as possible. ¡°You are safe. I promise. Close your eyes and remain present. Shut out any excess information.¡±
¡°Why are you doing this?¡± The bat chirped, though they still did as the dragon suggested. ¡°What¡¯s going on?¡±
¡°You had an¡ episode, of sorts,¡± it explained. ¡°You were overstimulated and became unresponsive for far longer than you are likely aware. ¡±
¡°Oh.¡± It was true. All it took was thinking about the time that had passed since they began to panic to know that what had felt like racing thoughts to them had actually occurred slowly. Very slowly. They had been frozen for about three minutes and twenty seven seconds, and had only been able to process five or six thoughts, depending on how they counted.
¡°I have seen this before, from a feral-born I encountered on an expedition. It is nothing to be ashamed of. I often strike a rather imposing figure, despite my best efforts.¡± The lizard paused, giving the bat a moment to settle down some more. ¡°I am going to remove my foot now. Keep your eyes closed for as long as you need to.¡±
¡°Thanks. And sorry.¡± The bat squeaked as the dragon stepped back. Thankfully, they managed to open their eyes without anything breaking this time. ¡°I¡¯m¡ kinda fragile, I guess. In several ways.¡±
¡°You are not the only one.¡± The lizard laid back down, resting its head on a foreleg. ¡°I would like to start over, if you are feeling up to it.¡± The bat mustered a simple nod. ¡°I am Explorer Verdant-Trail, and you are the only one of the ¡®afflicted¡¯ here that I have yet to meet, correct? The Attuned bat with no name training to restore its motor control?¡±
¡°You know a lot about someone you¡¯ve never met,¡± the bat squeaked flatly.
¡°Quiet-Dream attempted to introduce me to all of your group, but explained that you preferred to keep to yourself, and simply told me what it knew of you.¡±
¡°How¡ considerate of him,¡± the bat growled through clenched teeth as bitter, frustrated anger flared up within them. The same kind that had caused them to snap at Song, Swift-Paw, and the others when they first met. The kind they had done their best to bury while they focused on self-improvement instead. It had never gone away, though. If anything, it had gotten worse. How could everyone else act like any of this was okay? Why were they the odd one out for acting like a real person would in this situation? Had everyone else gone insane, or was it just the bat?
¡°What are you Attuned to?¡± The straightforward question from Verdant-Trail blindsided the bat. ¡°It must be quite broad for you to be so easily overwhelmed despite being at least somewhat experienced with communicating with others by this point.¡± For about 0.3 seconds, the dragon¡¯s gaze flicked to the ground below the bat before resuming eye contact.
¡°Oh, uh.¡± They looked down themselves to see that they had gouged small lines in the grass and dirt with the hook-like ¡°thumbs¡± sticking out from the tops of their wings. The Explorer was trying to change the topic. It was a good idea. ¡°Numbers. Math. If something I can notice has a quantity, then I know it, and can calculate things with it.¡±
¡°That is¡ remarkably unspecific,¡± Verdant-Trail hissed, clearly surprised. ¡°Irresponsible for anyone to attempt, even. Did you do this yourself, or is your Attunement from... before?¡±
¡°Before. Apparently I ended up in the body of some trader,¡± the bat recalled, trying to think back to their first few days here. ¡°I didn¡¯t learn much about it, though. I spent most of my first days arguing with the others in the caravan about who I was and being kept isolated as a safety risk, and then I was left here when the College detained me. They seemed almost... relieved? By the idea of abandoning me, I mean. But I was too¡ distracted to think much of it...¡±This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.
¡°Coordinator Granted-Certainty¡¡± the dragon let out a rumbling growl with enough obvious disgust to make even the bat take a step back. The name felt familiar to the bat, they were fairly sure it had come up among the traders, but they knew it wasn¡¯t the one that had been used for them. ¡°So that was its secret.¡±
¡°Someone you know?¡± The bat tilted their head.
¡°It is¡ a lot to explain, and I need to attend Explorer Eager-Horizon¡¯s treatment in case it is successful. However¡¡± Verdant-Trail splayed out its front legs and lowered its head all the way to the ground. ¡°You are welcome to climb on and accompany me. I can provide details on the way.¡±
¡°...What¡¯s in it for you?¡±
¡°What kind of question is that?¡±
¡°You only just met me, but now I¡¯m seemingly connected to someone you hate, and you¡¯re trying to keep me around? Do you think I¡¯m stupid?¡± The bat squinted at the Explorer, their ears twitching and rotating wildly to reflect their agitated state in a way they were unable to control. ¡°You¡¯re just being nice because I might be useful.¡±
The accusation hung heavy in the silence that followed. Verdant-Trail¡¯s gaze met the bat¡¯s own, but they couldn¡¯t even begin to tell what it was thinking. Their first guess was coming up with some excuse or denial.
¡°You are right.¡± The dragon stood up, completely disarming every one of the bat¡¯s planned comebacks with its confession. ¡°I saw an opportunity to deliver a very petty kind of justice and did not think twice before acting to recruit you for it. You deserve honesty in my intentions. I am sorry.¡± Rather than lay back down, this time it leaned to its left, extending that foreleg out at a shallow enough angle to be climbed. ¡°I do still wish to explain the situation, and hopefully secure your cooperation, but I will do so with full transparency. If you decline, I will not press you further.¡±
The bat stared for a little under three seconds as they contemplated the offer before nodding and attempting the climb. This was the first time in their life any one had ever respected them enough to stop patronizing them when it was pointed out. This komodo dragon was already better than any of the adults in their life had ever been.
Ironic, then, that it¡¯d taken leaving the Earth entirely and being effectively crippled in the process to meet them.
In the Highnests, Verdant-Trail¡¯s home, governance was handled though an interwoven system of Guilds, Unions, Companies, Councils, Workshops, and any other manners of organized labor suited for a task. Each organization came into being when the need arose, and would typically dissolve once their task was done. They held domain over the implementation of their craft, and as one trade often fed into another, they held leverage over other organizations relative to how much they were needed. This meant that organizations dedicated to labors continually in demand for common necessities held the most sway. They would never dissolve, and were capable of making requests of other organizations and swiftly repaying them in kind. Or, occasionally, make demands under threat of withholding those vital services.
The primary counterbalance to this potential abuse was competition. If a vital service or material was being held hostage, it was an opportunity for a rival organization to provide it instead, gaining importance as the abusive parties lost their own. After all, an organization could only control the labor of its members. No one could monopolize material goods such as water, wood, stone, or food. They were in great abundance in that part of the world, and one only had to organize a group and obtain it in order to make use of it.
Recently, however, something had changed. A singular Merchant Company, under the leadership of Coordinator Granted-Certainty, had amassed far more power and influence than any one organization should have. They commanded a volume of goods and materials coming from neighboring regions that no other trade or transport organization could hope to match, all thanks to raw efficiency. Efficiency in routing, efficiency in caravan size, efficiency in wagon loads, efficiency in species choice for each kind of terrain. If there was any aspect of a supply caravan that was within a creature¡¯s control, then it was optimized with a level of precision and perfection that made competing organizations outright worse choices for any task. So far, no one but those in the Company itself had any idea of how it was being done. Even Attunement, as far as anyone knew, could not grant the breadth of precise data needed to accomplish such things.
That is, unless one were to begin risking lives.
Shortly after Verdant-Trail had managed to get both of its fellow Explorers back home from the expedition that incapacitated them, one of the merchant caravans returned from Darksoil and reported a casualty. According to them, a tragedy had occurred on the road, and one of their number lost its life to a feral predator. The body was never recovered. However, the bat had seemingly been on that caravan, and the combination of its detrimental Attunement and the eagerness of its former companions to abandon it as soon as it had become a liability was more than enough to infer what was actually going on.
Members of the Skypeak Merchant Company were quite possibly training for wide-ranging Attunements that were as likely to kill or cripple a creature as they were to help. All it would take would be a few ¡°successes¡± to make all of those impossible efficiencies feasible, so long as they were willing to sacrifice a few others on average for each, and greatly reduce the quality of life for those few ¡°successes¡± as well.
For its part, the bat listened to the explanation quietly and attentively. However, once the topic of its Attunement and its purpose was broached, Verdant-Trail could feel the winged mammal tense up on its shoulder. It remained silent, however, even as its grip on the Explorer¡¯s rough scales tightened. It was angry, justifiably so. Unfortunately, it didn¡¯t manage to voice an opinion before the pair arrived at the infirmary, where Physician Able-Heart guided them to the room where Eager-Horizon was being kept.
Inside was Ink-Talon and Lead Physician Pensive-Pace, the former watching from the sides while the Physician watched over the patient. Eager-Horizon was properly unconscious for once, having been placed on a small cushion in the center of the room while the perch had been pushed to the back.
¡°Oh! Didn¡¯t expect to see you here,¡± Ink-Talon squawked and waved a wing at the bat. ¡°Did you two really become friends that quickly?¡±
¡°Something like that,¡± the bat chirped. ¡°So, you figured out how to wake this one up?¡±
¡°We have a proper theory, at least,¡± Pensive-Pace grunted. ¡°The ex-Scholar identified the cause of Eager-Horizons symptoms, a misalignment of physical sleep-states similar to the one that they suffered from. The difference is that instead of being unable to half-sleep, the Explorer¡¯s physical mind is trapped in it, cycling between which half is sleeping and never fully waking up.¡±
¡°The hope is that forcibly inducing unconsciousness with a sedative will have been enough to break it out of the cycle.¡± Physician Able-Heart gestured at the sleeping form of Eager-Horizon with a paw before approaching it to assess its condition. ¡°The sedative has been completely metabolized, so it should be safe to wake it now. Should I attempt it?¡±
¡°Please do,¡± Verdant-Trail nodded, shifting uncomfortably where it stood. It knew that whatever would wake up would not likely be Eager-Horizon. It would almost certainly be another being like Chase, but it had to know. It had to get this pain out of the way now so that it could move on.
The room fell silent as the serval gently placed a forepaw on the sleeping bird¡¯s wing and jostled it a bit. There was no immediate response, but after a second, more forceful nudge, it thrust the wing out in an apparent attempt to shove the paw away.
¡°Already? The sun is not even up yet¡¡± One eye opened, only for the other to snap open in a panic upon seeing the collection of creatures in the room. ¡°Verdant-Trail? Where are we? Who are they? We had better not have-¡± The bird¡¯s confused twittering was cut off by a surprised squeak as its fellow Explorer bounded forward and slid onto its stomach, quickly curling it¡¯s long body and tail around Eager-Horizon in a show of excitement and comfort that it had not allowed itself since they had all first fallen ill. There was a soft thump on the floor behind it as the bat tumbled from its perch, but it could apologize later.
¡°You are yourself!¡± the lizard rumbled. ¡°You have no idea how happy I am that you are still yourself.¡±
¡°Of course I am myself, why would I not¡ be¡¡± Eager-Horizon suddenly became very still as it either remembered or realized something, possibly both. ¡°Oh. That was not a dream. That was real. She was real.¡±
¡°Who was?¡± Verdant-Trail hissed the question, catching movement out of the corner of its eye as Ink-Talon began to fidget nervously.
¡°It is¡ hard to remember. But I know she was there. I know we were alone together for a long time. I remember everything starting to fade away before¡¡± The small, round bird locked eyes with its friend, a profound sadness in its gaze that even it did not seem to fully grasp the source of. ¡°She decided to sleep forever so that I could wake up instead.¡±
Chapter 33: Reckoning
Eager-Horizon hadn¡¯t even been awake long enough to fully process what was going on before the crow began to panic.
¡°I need you all to keep it a secret! Omit it from the report, pretend it didn¡¯t happen, lie if you have to! Please!¡± It flared its wings and kept looking at the door, as if some intruder was about to burst in and attack.
¡°Typically, Physicians try to avoid spreading misinformation about serious health conditions.¡± A very annoyed wombat growled at the crow, looking more than willing to put its considerable bulk towards removing the bird in front of it from the room. ¡°Either explain why I should, stop arguing, or get out. Providing assistance in the treatment does not give you the right to be disruptive.¡±
¡°Because if the Guardians learn about this, the lives of me and every other human here will be in danger!¡± The room fell silent at the declaration, but Eager-Horizon could only think about one thing.
Human. That was her species. What happened to her happened to this crow, too. And others! Did they take their bodies by force, then? Or were they allowed to take them, like I was? Or did they not have a choice? As all those questions and more whirled around in its head, the crow continued.
¡°Do you remember that ¡®treatment¡¯ the Guardians attempted on me? The one that nearly killed me?¡± It took a deep breath, bracing itself for something. ¡°Well, it technically worked. In that horrible twilight consciousness, Scholar Ink-Talon resurfaced. We got to have a conversation, and it asked me to promise it something. It didn¡¯t want to erase me any more than it wanted to be erased, and it wanted me to do something only I could do. I agreed, but if the Guardians know that Ink-Talon, Keen-Ear, and the others still exist, then they are never going to let us go.¡±
The crow had expressed all of that with frantic wing and head movements, clearly afraid of being overheard, and immediately slumped against the nearby wall and settled onto the floor. While it recovered, the wombat (a Physician?) turned back in Eager-Horizon¡¯s direction.
¡°Explorers, I would like to hear your opinions. So far, you are the only ones among these ¡®afflicted¡¯ to retain their original-¡±
¡°I agree with the crow.¡± It did not even wait for the wombat to finish before squawking out an answer. ¡°If the¡ if she is still here somewhere, if there is some hope of both of us existing, then I will do whatever it takes to save her. I will lie to a Guardian¡¯s face if I have to.¡±
¡°Are you certain?¡± Verdant-Trail looked at its friend with an abundance of concern.
¡°She is my friend. We do not leave friends behind, remember?¡± Eager-Horizon peeped its response with as much certainty as it could convey. The komodo dragon froze for what seemed like ages before nodding slowly.
¡°Of course. I remember.¡± It was not a formal rule or oath. It was a promise they had made each other during their first disastrous expedition together. It was a promise that had kept them both alive. It was almost certainly the promise that had motivated Verdant-Trail to drag them all of the way here, wherever here was. It turned back to the Physician and gave its own answer. ¡°I cannot claim to be friends with Chase, not having formally met, but I am similarly convinced of its right to exist.¡±
¡°Very well, I will omit that the original Eager-Horizon is the one that woke up here.¡± The wombat sighed deeply.
¡°Yeah, great, we¡¯re building a complicated web of lies and our lives are in danger. Fantastic to learn.¡± Very aggressive and annoyed squeaking came from behind the physician, and a very feeble-looking fruit bat wobbled out into view. Verdant-Trail visibly flinched at the sight of it, as if it were reminded of something embarrassing. ¡°So, are any of us actually going to do anything about it?¡±
Introductions and being filled in on the essentials filled the rest of the oilbird¡¯s day, but throughout it all it struggled to keep from being overwhelmed by its own memories of its stasis becoming clearer as it learned about everything else.
Oilbird. That was the name for Eager-Horizon¡¯s species as it existed in her world. It had a rather gruesome origin relating to traditional uses her species had for feral hatchlings, but the bird couldn¡¯t hold that against her. She came from a world of language and abstracted meaning, and the meaning in this case was simply ¡°you.¡±
In retrospect, it wasn¡¯t exactly sure just what kind of people it would take for two consciousnesses to spend so much time intimately connected without the two of them becoming friends. When the two of them already knew all there was to know about each other and instead could just poke and prod at ideas and memories and questions without needing to explain any details or context. And thanks to that, imitating the idiosyncrasies of how humans expressed themselves when placed in a foreign body was surprisingly easy.
¡°God, I¡¯m not even sure how much I¡¯ve eaten since you¡¯ve had me here. Can¡¯t I just get a little bowl of something delivered?¡± It was all in the details. The explicit informality, the evocation of a higher power as an affirmation or pejorative rather than as an expression of faith, references to foreign concepts like individualized food deliveries for those perfectly capable of getting the food themselves. In concert, they were more than enough to convince strangers that Eager-Horizon was one of the humans here, even if its knowledge was more or less surface-level. All it had to do was express things in the right way and avoid outright falsehoods and the exceedingly bored and incurious Guardians made to monitor them all never thought twice about any of it.
¡°No. You can go to the feeding areas like everyone else.¡± The exceedingly bored eagle tapped its talons on the rock it was perched on, clearly annoyed. ¡°Go find the others like you, they know how this works already.¡±
¡°Okay, got it.¡± The Explorer took wing and darted across the courtyard in deliberately short, clumsy bursts. It prided itself on its skills in flight, and the hyper-specialized leg configuration of its species could barely waddle, much less properly walk, but it needed to make sure that it didn¡¯t come off as overly competent in public, at least at first. Still, even at a reduced pace it wasn¡¯t much of an issue to reach the little pond in the center of the courtyard that had apparently become the central meeting place of the humans here. As far as it knew, the only one of them missing was Explorer Valiant-Claw (or whoever resided in its carapace at the moment). It was making steady progress in its rehabilitation, but it was not yet capable of walking unsupervised.
¡°How¡¯s your first day back been going?¡± Maggie asked in a perfect mimicry of the human language it was familiar with. The myna was in a good mood, though it could not help but feel that she was perhaps too happy, given the circumstances.
¡°Overwhelming.¡± Eager-Horizon chirped, fluttering just a little bit farther to its left to a clear spot next to Verdant-Trail, who acknowledged it with a friendly nod, but otherwise remained silent. ¡°Extremely overwhelming.¡±
¡°I can only imagine.¡± A gentle splash from the salamander in the pond (whose name the oilbird struggled to recall) expressed her sympathies. She had apparently merged with the consciousness of her host body to some degree, a potential outcome that it very much hoped was just a fluke and not a possible fate for all of them.
¡°If you need any help, please let us know,¡± Ink-Talon clicked his beak and gave an understanding nod.The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.
¡°I appreciate it, thanks.¡± Eager-Horizon nodded in return. The crow was hard to properly assess. Obviously it was grateful that he had found the root cause of that waking unconsciousness that it and its friend had found themselves in, and the fact that he wanted to recover everyone¡¯s counterparts without sacrificing anyone was extremely reassuring, but something about him just made the Explorer uneasy.
After his panicked explanation in the infirmary, the way he had carried himself since had a practiced, calculated edge. It made sense given what it had gathered about its Attunement, but it did mean that every single thing it expressed was perfected to the point that there wasn¡¯t a single piece of unintentional nuance to it. When Ink-Talon said something, you Understood exactly what he wanted you to Understand and nothing more. He didn¡¯t come off as restrained or reserved like most would when carefully controlling their expressions, nor did he feel disingenuous or empty. But it was uncannily clean, like he could withhold anything he wanted effortlessly. And it seemed that some of the other humans had picked up on this as well.
¡°Yeah, being open and honest about everything is extremely important.¡± Quiet-Dream growled the sentiment, glaring at the crow rather than looking at Eager-Horizon and sending both of his kits scampering for cover behind a tree root. This was actually the first time it had met the squirrel, but everything that had been said about him had made him out to be a caring person, but extremely nervous and prone to being extremely hard on himself. That was not the squirrel that stood in front of it, hackles raised and expressing an overwhelming sense of betrayal in its movements.
¡°I know, and I¡¯m sorry, but I-¡± Ink-Talon had barely begun to formulate a response before being cut off.
¡°No excuses! Not until I tell you exactly what you¡¯ve been doing, because if I¡¯m being honest, I¡¯m not sure you even know.¡± Quiet-Dream plopped his hindquarters down and became extremely still, closing his eyes and slowing his breathing as much as a small rodent could before expressing his story in small, murmuring squeaks. ¡°I never pushed you on what happened to you in that room. It was clearly painful, and you needed time to recover. But afterwards, something changed. I didn¡¯t quite get what was wrong for a while. We spoke like normal, you were your usual clever, analytical self, nothing seemed strange. But something still felt off, and when we had that argument about investigating the Guardians, I felt like I was missing something. So I¡¯ve spent the last few days working with Archivist Sharp-Search to look into things anyway. And I was right to be suspicious!¡±
¡°Quiet-Dream, I¡¡±
¡°Ink-Talon, you lied to me. To all of us! And then you had the gall to chastise me for believing that the Guardians were being deceptive, too! Did the double standard never occur to you? Are you even aware of just how easy it was for you to do it?¡±
¡°It wasn¡¯t that easy-¡± the crow froze, the realization hitting him all at once. ¡°I think I need a minute. I¡¯m sorry.¡± The crow took a few stumbling steps away from the group before taking to the air, settling in a tree on the far end of the courtyard.
¡°Well, this was a disaster,¡± the bat huffed, speaking up for the first time. ¡°We kinda need him if we want to plan anything. He has all the important details.¡± Of all the assembled creatures, the bat was the one that Eager-Horizon knew the least about. Outside of what Verdant-Trail had explained about the origins of their Attunement and their irritable disposition, it¡¯d gathered nothing from their few short interactions.
¡°Just take a break and relax until he calms down,¡± Maggie said, settling into the grass and closing her eyes. ¡°It isn¡¯t the first time emotions have run high, and it won¡¯t be the last.¡±
¡°Agreed.¡± The salamander swished her tail across the surface of the pond. ¡°Don¡¯t blame yourself, Quiet-Dream, and don¡¯t blame him, either. We¡¯re all just making choices as we go, and they¡¯re not always going to be the best ones.¡±
¡°Right.¡± The squirrel sighed, gathered itself, and turned around to comfort his kits, one of which was already being comforted by the other.
¡°Eager-Horizon, I am going to find some shade by the wall, if you would like to join me.¡± Verdant-Trail lifted its body and looked duskward, where the late afternoon sun cast a long shadow across the far end of the courtyard. It was anxious to actually hold a proper conversation with its fellow Explorer, as the bird had spent the entire day ¡°playing catch-up,¡± as its human friend would have said.
¡°Of course. I have already spent far more time in the sun than I would like.¡± It flew up to perch on the lizard¡¯s back and save itself the effort of faking incompetence across the entire distance. Once the pair was an appreciable distance away from everyone else, it spoke up again. ¡°Verdant-Trail, this is the most dysfunctional group of creatures I have ever encountered. And I had to rescue that Apprentice Explorer team that traveled for two entire days before realizing that they had forgotten to bring literally anyone capable of flying or swimming to cross a Deep.¡±
¡°Agreed. But that is why we need to help them,¡± Verdant-Trail rumbled as it settled down in the shade.
¡°That is¡ not what our roles usually entail,¡± Eager-Horizon chirped. ¡°I would not know where to begin.¡±
¡°I do not either, but it would be cruel to Chase to abandon them.¡±
¡°I heard you mention Chase earlier, in the infirmary. Who are they?¡±
¡°Chase is my¡ otherworldly counterpart. I do not yet know why, but we alternate being conscious in my body whenever the other falls asleep.¡± Verdant-Trail shifted uncomfortably, prompting Eager-Horizon to hop off and settle in next to its head. It couldn¡¯t tell if its friend disliked Chase, or just didn¡¯t know how to feel. ¡°We have only been able to communicate in written messages, and it has only recently expressed anything to me other than the bare essentials of events. But I know what it has done for me, for all of us. The evidence is in what witnesses have told me, in the physical distances we have moved, in the work that has been performed while I slept. Without its contributions, you and Valiant-Claw would not have survived that expedition.¡±
The elder Explorer had always had a meandering way of telling stories, going on tangents about small details and providing far more context than was necessary. It may have been extremely serious in going about its life, but it had always relished being able to look back on events with wonder, pride, and even a little whimsy. So when its telling of what happened in the days immediately following the ¡°arrival¡± of Chase and the others was extremely direct and unembellished, Eager-Horizon knew that it was serious.
Chase had woken up alone, and somehow had managed to collect both Valiant-Claw and Eager-Horizon and take them a considerable distance in the general direction of the Hightnests, having worked out their heading, as well as who in the group was who, from the Expedition Logs. Furthermore, it had managed to fashion a set of canvas slings for carrying both their unconscious bodies and essential supplies. The wagon had apparently been mired in mud and lacked the means to keep passengers safe and secure. Verdant-Trail freely admitted that it would have attempted to sit and wait out the illness rather than move to safety if it had been the one to wake up there instead, and that it would have been a fatal mistake, given the initial difficulties in feeding them while incapacitated.
¡°Chase has a combination of cleverness and a desire to ¡®atone¡¯ for our shared situation that I do not know how to respond to other than attempting to give it opportunities to be kind to itself.¡± Verdant-Trail stared ahead blankly, more thinking openly than conversing at this point. ¡°I originally intended to go home as soon as we were able, but spending just one day among others of its kind helped it treat itself with enough respect to actually tell me its name and express why it felt the need to punish itself. If we leave these people behind and allow it to isolate itself, I fear it may destroy itself. And it would tell itself that it is doing it for my sake.¡± Finally, the lizard angled its head to look to its companion. ¡°Eager-Horizon, I don¡¯t want to live with anyone having thrown their life away for me like that.¡±
¡°No. You don¡¯t.¡± The cold expression escaped the oilbird¡¯s beak before it thought better of itself, but it couldn¡¯t bring itself to apologize. Not for this.
¡°I am sorry, friend. I should have considered-¡±
¡°You¡¯re right, though. You don¡¯t want that, and I don¡¯t want that to happen to you, or anyone else.¡± Eager-Horizon extended a wing and gently laid it across its friend¡¯s snout in an attempt to comfort it. ¡°It happening once was bad enough, and I¡¯ll be rotting in the ground before I let it happen to anyone else.¡±
¡°Thank you.¡± Verdant-Trail stood up, and motioned with its head for the bird to return to its perch on its back. ¡°We should return to the others and see how we can help.¡± As Eager-Horizon landed and the pair made their way back, the lizard made a slightly teasing observation. ¡°You slipped into your ¡®afflicted impersonation¡¯ just now.¡±
¡°Huh. You¡¯re right.¡± The oilbird pondered that. It had come naturally, and it was how it had been expressing itself in its own mind after a while of being trapped there with its friend. Was it just more used to that now? Did it even care?
It concluded that it didn¡¯t.
Chapter 34: Twilight of Innocence
The days since Ink-Talon had come clean about his promise to the Scholar had been chaotic and busy. The potential of answers and knowledge that could help those left suppressed or unconscious by their conditions was more than enough motivation to push everyone to act. They had decided that their best shot at emancipating themselves was to work on things from two distinct fronts.
Maggie had begun formally petitioning Arbitrators for a Consensus on their release. Her flying lessons were a work in progress, but she could take off and land reliably, provided she had flat ground, the wind was gentle, and she flew in a straight line. It was enough to get her close to where she needed to go to plead their case each day.
The second plan was to send word of their detainment to the Explorer¡¯s Guild in the Highnests. Verdant-Trail, Eager-Horizon, and Valiant-Claw were all ranking members of the organization, and the Guild had close ties with the College, outfitting research settlements and providing personnel and survey data to aid in field study. Putting strain on that relationship would not be seen favorably by the Scholars, which was likely why the Guardians neglected to deliver Verdant-Trail¡¯s message. Better that the Guild think that their afflicted members were lost on the journey. Thankfully, they had a potential way to circumvent this.
Scribe Swift-Paw was not under the same restrictions of movement as the rest of them, nor under the same scrutiny that Seeker Sunny-Plume or Archivist Sharp-Search would be in their own roles. It was a simple matter for the Scribe to seek lodging outside the campus, citing a lack of need for its constant presence now that Song no longer had to live in a bathtub, and then wait to pass on a message from Verdant-Trail. The Guardians were not monitoring all of the regular Messengers coming to and from the city, the invasion of privacy alone would have been enough for the citizens to disavow their authority, not to mention the utter lack of resources needed to even attempt something so complicated.
Things were finally moving forward at a steady pace. Of course, Ink-Talon had his own job to do in all of this. A job only he could do, and one that he hated with every fiber of his being.
He was going to lie, sneak, and outmaneuver his way into the city unmonitored, passing off Verdant-Trail¡¯s new letter to Swift-Paw without the Guardians ever knowing one had been written. It had to be written by Verdant-Trail¡¯s own claws, or else it would not be believed, given the outlandish nature of the claims. Swift-Paw was a skilled scribe, but forgery was not among its talents, nor was smuggling, and the Guardians had inspected its baggage when it had formally moved out earlier that evening.
No. It has to be me. Ink-Talon took a deep breath as he carefully watched the angle of the sun from the ledge in his room. I can fly. I have the precision and control to evade notice. And¡ I could probably say whatever I wanted and come off as genuine. We need to press that advantage while our enemies are still unaware of it. The thought stuck in his mind, eating at him. Enemies. Can I really think of them as enemies? They¡¯re just people doing what they think is best.
They stand opposed to your very existence, the more pragmatic side of him answered. If they get their way, you and everyone like you will cease to be. It doesn¡¯t matter what their motives are. They want you dead. That makes them your enemy. The sun outside dipped low enough to almost touch the top of the courtyard¡¯s far wall. In about a minute it would be right in the eyes of the Guardian perched on the roof above him, and that eagle would be right at the end of its shift watching the place. The combination of twilight and exhaustion would be his cover, one far better than pure darkness in a world filled with creatures with excellent night vision and other senses.
He adjusted the small straps across his breast securing a tiny satchel containing the folded note and a few other useful tools he¡¯d been able to gather. Chase had put it together the previous day, repurposing the material and hooks from Quiet-Dream¡¯s kit-carrier. The guy was apparently really good at designing things like that on the fly, and it was a shame he refused to give himself more credit for it. But that was a problem for another day. Right now, he had a job to do.
Time to go.
Ink-Talon fell forward, flaring his wings and bringing himself into a low, high-speed glide, flapping as little as possible in order to remain quiet as he positioned himself right in the long shadow of one of the courtyard¡¯s trees and gently banked around its trunk to land behind it. He peeked out to confirm the Eagle Guardian¡¯s position, and it was more or less where he¡¯d expected it to be, shielding its eyes from the sun with a wing and tapping a talon on the roof in annoyance. It wasn¡¯t looking his way, and almost certainly wouldn¡¯t be able to see him if he took to the skies right now. This was his only chance, so he took it, launching into the sky and soaring over the roof, shutting his eyes himself to block out the setting sun as he flew right towards it.
One. Two. Three. Four. Five¡ The crow counted each of his wingbeats as he powered forward blindly, having worked out with the bat ahead of time exactly how many he would need to clear the building with his eyes closed. All it took was a little testing and demonstration for their calculations. After the thirteenth flap, the crow began descending, opening his eyes once he was angled down far enough. The bat¡¯s Attunement was right on the money, as usual, and he slipped below the rooftops and into a nearby alleyway just off-campus to catch his breath and make sure he wasn¡¯t being followed. As far as he could tell, the coast was clear.
I did it. I actually did it! He hopped up and down a few times before reining in his excitement. Those had been the most elaborate flight patterns he¡¯d done yet, and he¡¯d pulled it off effortlessly. Too effortlessly. Too easy. Don¡¯t let it set in. He tried to stamp down on his excitement even harder, forcing himself to focus on his mission as much as possible. He¡¯d kept his flying to a minimum since arriving in Darksoil, and not entirely out of necessity, either. Sure, spending so much time indoors and in the tightly monitored courtyard prevented him from taking wing on a whim for more than crossing a room or flying to a perch, but even when offered a flying tour of the city by Seeker Sunny-Plume, he¡¯d declined, making up an excuse about taking a nap in a bad position and waking up with a sore wing that day.
Yet another lie I¡¯ve been able to tell without even thinking twice. The crow shook his head, trying to dismiss the unhelpful self-criticism.
No, the reason he¡¯d kept himself mostly grounded was out of fear. Not just his fear of heights, which was still present, if manageable, but his fear of himself. What he might do if he embraced the skies, embraced the boundless freedom they offered. He feared that he may never be able to let it go.
Ink-Talon had realized something about himself during his conversation with his Scholar counterpart. He wasn¡¯t human. Not anymore. Not just in the physical sense, that much had been clear from moment one, but rather the core of who he was had shifted. He¡¯d tried to imagine fantasy scenarios in which he got to go home, to resume his previous life. He easily could, but there was only one fantasy he could ever imagine himself being happy in: One where he somehow remained a bird.
Most of the others? They¡¯d have taken their old bodies back without thinking twice, and still held their humanity as a part of their identities. But Ink-Talon was more like Song. Both of them considered themselves to be fundamentally different in a way that made ¡°being human¡± feel¡ uncomfortable. For Song, it was because she was effectively a gestalt being, and ¡°salamander¡± had taken precedence at her core. For Ink-Talon, it was more like he was made to be a crow, like he¡¯d always been one and just didn¡¯t know it. He¡¯d never been unhappy with being human, at least as far as he could tell, but he¡¯d sure as hell been bored by it. Maybe it was just his Attunement warping his perspective on his own body, but he didn¡¯t care. Being like this was just better than being human.Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.
All of his protesting and insistence that he was human in his first few days in this world, all of his anger and worry¡ All of it was just insistence that he was still a person. That he was still himself. And he was still himself, of course. But if he let himself just fly freely¡ Then he might just fly away. It would be so easy. To just fly, and fly, and fly. To experience every inch of this world, to be free, and be happy. He wanted it. He yearned for it. And he knew that he could never live with himself if he did it. If he abandoned Quiet-Dream and the others who needed him, then who would he really be? Not himself, that much was certain. Above all else, he needed to remain himself.
¡°Are you okay?¡± A very concerned snort yanked Ink-Talon out of his post-flight rumination. He squawked in awkward surprise and found himself beak-to-snout with what he could only assume to be a reindeer, judging from its sheer bulk and impressive, velvet-covered antlers. Larger than the white-tail deer he was familiar with, but not nearly big enough to be a moose. Even so, it was by far the tallest creature he¡¯d ever interacted with at this size. ¡°I apologize for startling you, but you seemed somewhat distressed. Is there anything I can do to help?¡± Its ¡°voice¡± was a low groaning sound, one that would almost certainly shift to a harsh bellow if pushed to a higher volume.
¡°Oh! Yes, actually!¡± Ink-Talon cawed gratefully, snapping to a much more relaxed stance as he did so. The last thing he needed right now was to come off as nervous or suspicious. ¡°I only recently came to Darksoil, and am not yet familiar with the city¡¯s layout. I can usually navigate well enough from the air, but tonight I stayed out too late and lost my way in the twilight. My latest attempt at flying home had me accidentally blinding myself going duskward, and I needed a moment to recover.¡± The crow put on his best approximation of a cute ¡°pleading¡± face as he stared up at the deer. ¡°I can probably make it if I take my time, but it will be a slow journey in the dark. Are you able to give me directions to the Aqueduct District from here? I am staying with a friend there.¡±
¡°I can, but I can also simply take you there, if that suits you better.¡± The deer looks down the street and away from the College. ¡°You would be a negligible weight to carry, and my own destination is within sight of the aqueduct. You will have a much easier time navigating from there.¡±
¡°Thank you!¡± the crow croaked excitedly. ¡°The help would be greatly appreciated, as would the opportunity to rest my wings.¡± The misleading omission that he wanted to rest his wings because he was too eager to use them twisted his avian guts into a tense knot, one that he easily kept from coming through in his posture or movements or voice or even the grip of his talons on the reindeer¡¯s back as they began the journey. If the pleasant conversation hadn¡¯t helped him ease that tension¡
He honestly wasn¡¯t sure what would happen. Was it even possible for him to reach an emotional breaking point like he¡¯d seen Quiet-Dream do multiple times by now? Was his self-control actually that good? He hadn¡¯t found his limits yet, and he sincerely hoped he¡¯d never have to. Right now, though? Right now he was making pleasant small-talk for what was probably the first time since the cart ride to Darksoil, and he was going to relish every moment.
¡°You can do that? Shave them and treat them to encourage specific growth?¡± Ink-Talon clicked his beak as he examined the sculpted curves of the reindeer¡¯s uncannily symmetrical antlers.
¡°Most do not bother, but I consider it a personal challenge,¡± the deer explained. ¡°I am an Artist. My usual mediums are dyes and canvases, but the idea of using my own body as a medium of artistic expression is intensely appealing. It has taken years of trial-and-error to properly implement the techniques, but once I shed this year¡¯s velvet, I am hoping to have created splits and branches in exactly the spots I intended to.¡±
¡°That is an admirable ambition,¡± the crow chirped. ¡°I had never had much of an aptitude for art myself, but I once proposed the idea of drawn maps representing space in a less-abstracted and more visually appealing way. Unfortunately, I was either scoffed at or met with confusion.¡±
¡°I see,¡± the deer huffed, clearly familiar with such a reaction. ¡°You stumbled into the first hurdle any Artist must face: No one but you will Understand a work that does not yet exist. You can not force someone else to imagine your idea as you envision it. But if you manifest it, make it real, then it will be Understood by those who witness it. Then you will have created Art.¡±
¡°That is¡ Profound.¡± Ink-Talon squeaked out his meager response, unable to properly respond.
¡°It is, is it not?¡±
The conversation largely petered out after that point, and not a moment too soon, as they finally arrived at their destination only a few minutes later.
¡°The aqueduct is always well-lit at night, so you should be able to see where you are going.¡±
¡°Thank you¡¡± Ink-Talon hopped off the deer¡¯s back and paused, tilting his head inquisitively. ¡°I do not think I caught your name.¡±
¡°Artist Branching-Tree.¡± The Artist bowed its head respectfully. ¡°And yours?¡±
¡°Ink-Talon, no role just yet,¡± he squawked without thinking, only barely preventing himself from cringing as a brief flash of satisfaction crossed Branching-Tree¡¯s face. It absolutely knew who he was, and had just gotten proof.
¡°It has been a pleasure to meet you.¡±
¡°You too, but I really must be going now. My friend is going to be worried that I am late.¡±
¡°Of course.¡± Just as the crow turned to leave, however, a heavy tap of the deer¡¯s hoof on a paving stone halted him. ¡°Ink-Talon, have you ever considered being an Artist?¡±
¡°I¡¡± The question completely blindsided the bird, and he contemplated flying away without answering. But the reindeer already knew who he was, there was no point in being anything but open. ¡°I did once. In another life. But I decided that I didn¡¯t want to make something like that into an obligation. If I did that, then it wouldn¡¯t have been art anymore. It would have been just an empty product, devoid of meaning. I''d much rather have had it as a hobby than a career.¡±
¡°A wise decision, though if I were to give any advice, it would be that your idea of what constitutes Art may have been too narrow.¡± The artist¡¯s deep, brown eyes seemed to sparkle in the flickering lamplight on the street, but all Ink-Talon could read from the expression was a vague sense of anticipation. ¡°It is just an idea to explore in the future.¡± Branching-Tree bowed its head once more. ¡°Fly true, Hobbyist Ink-Talon.¡± If a deer could smirk, it absolutely would have been. ¡°And do not worry. I have always hated talking to Guardians, and have no plans to do so.¡±
¡°Thanks again.¡± Ink-Talon returned its bow, gave his best impression of a beaming smile, and then took off, somehow both relieved and saddened that the interaction was over. He immediately spotted the building Scribe Swift-Paw described. It was a small rooftop apartment, built out of interlocking slats of wood and connected to both surrounding buildings and the ground by a multitude of thick ropes. Spotting an open window, the crow dove in as he had been instructed, easily making a clean landing on the cool stone floor.
¡°Hello?¡± The crow cawed into the darkness, tensing for the possibility that he had the wrong house and needed to bail.
¡°Ink-Talon?¡± A pair of eyes shone in the darkness before the distinctive click click of a simple striker mechanism was followed by a dim oil lamp sputtering to life to reveal the rest of the raccoon. Swift-Paw seemed somewhat more disheveled and exhausted than he expected, but it was clearly relieved to see him. ¡°I am glad you were able to make it. Did anyone see you?¡±
¡°No one who we need to worry about, thankfully.¡± He lowered his head and undid the simple hook holding his breast satchel shut, reaching in and gently withdrawing the tightly folded piece of paper with the Explorers¡¯ missive on it. The Scribe took it and placed it on a nearby wooden box that seemed to be serving as a table for the still-spartan living space. ¡°And now to sneak back in,¡± the crow sighed. ¡°Way less likely to succeed, but at least if I fail, I¡¯ll just be escorted back to my room.¡±
¡°Before you go, though, we will need to deal with a certain problem that somehow found its way into my bag after the Guardians had finished searching it.¡±
¡°What?¡±
Rather than elaborate, Swift-Paw walked over to the small nest of blankets laid out in the corner of the room, grasped one with a forepaw, and pulled it away to reveal an extremely angry, extremely determined looking gray-furred squirrel kit. It glared at both of the adults in the room, hackles raised in irritation.
¡°I¡¯m not going back!¡± Gray growled. ¡°You can¡¯t make me!¡±
All Ink-Talon could do was groan. This was going to be vastly more complicated than he thought.
Chapter 35: Flight or Fight
The gray kit didn¡¯t know where it had gone wrong. It had made clear its discontent and desire to go live in the wild, so no one should have been surprised when it left. But they were. It had doused itself in used bathwater to mask its scent so that no one would notice that it had sneaked out. But they had. It had paid attention to the exact words the Guardians had used when talking about their confinement, and it wasn¡¯t Someone Wrong like Mother or Maggie or Ink-Talon, so it should have been allowed to leave. But it wasn¡¯t. And it had tried to argue its points with Scribe Swift-Paw and Ink-Talon well into the night, adamantly refusing to go back with the crow. But they still wouldn¡¯t let it go. And then several angry-smelling people came up to the door and demanded to come into the Scribe¡¯s new home to look for it.
¡°Gray. Climb onto my back and hold on to the satchel straps.¡± Ink-Talon waved a wing to silently communicate with it. ¡°We need to go.¡±
¡°Why?¡± The kit tilted its head in confusion. ¡°Why are they so angry?¡±
¡°If you were missing, that means your Mother searching for you probably drew attention to me being missing. So we need to leave. Now.¡±
¡°But-¡±
¡°Gray, if we are caught here, then neither of us will be allowed to leave ever again.¡±
The kit still didn¡¯t understand what was going on, but that was more than enough to convince it that they needed to escape. It clambered onto the crow¡¯s back without another word.
¡°...Yes, Guardian, they are both here. Ink-Talon recently arrived, thinking that I would shelter it.¡± Scribe Swift-Paw reached to unlatch its door, turning to nod a silent command to Ink-Talon as it did so. ¡±Go.¡±
¡°Hold on tight!¡± The crow croaked as he spread his wings and leapt for the nearby window. With a few flaps of his wings, the two were airborne and outside. And then the kit made the mistake of looking down.
It began to scream.
Ink-Talon had a pretty good idea where it had all gone wrong. Gray sneaking out had scuffed the whole mission from the start. Swift-Paw playing at turning them in was a good call. It didn¡¯t have nearly the convincing air that something he would say would have, but it didn¡¯t *technically* lie, and Ink-Talon making a big show of fleeing into the night might just distract them enough not to be suspicious. But now he was in the air, at night, fleeing assuredly nocturnal Seekers, and trying to maneuver with a terrified, screaming squirrel kit latched onto his back.
What do I do here? I can¡¯t just turn myself in, right? Coming this far just to give up that easily is absurdly suspicious. How can I handle this to keep the plan intact? To keep this from setting everyone back? Ink-Talon landed on an unlit rooftop and looked back towards Swift-Paw¡¯s apartment, murmuring words of comfort to Gray to try and keep it calm. Two dark shapes briefly passed in front of a lamp on the building behind it as they rose into the air, very clearly heading straight for the crow before they disappeared into the darkness. They could see him in the dark, and he couldn¡¯t see them.
¡°Go! Please go!¡± Gray pleaded in terrified squeaks. ¡°I don¡¯t want to be trapped forever¡¡±
I could just¡ stop holding back and make a good show of it. The idea hit Ink-Talon like a bucket of cold water, bringing his situation into sharp focus. Physician Able-Heart said my Attunement is goal-oriented. This is an opportunity to put that to the test. What if I just stopped second-guessing myself and trusted my own desires?
The flutter of cloth on a nearby laundry line was the only warning he got to the incoming attack, and he threw himself forward just enough for a great horned owl¡¯s talons to painfully graze his left shoulder rather than clamp down on his back like it had intended. Gray screamed again as the leap took them off the roof and towards the streets below, with Ink-Talon flaring his wings just enough to pull into the highest-speed swoop he could manage.
That could have killed me. Time seemed to slow as the crow reached an adrenaline-fueled conclusion. I felt it, when it brushed by me. It would have pierced and crushed me with its talons at that speed. It doesn¡¯t care if we¡¯re captured unharmed, just that we don¡¯t escape. At that moment, everything became clear. The only way through this, the only way to keep himself and everyone he cared about safe, was to successfully escape. He had his goal, one tied to his deepest, most selfish desires. Now he just had to use it.
¡°Hold on, Gray!¡± Ink-Talon squawked as he angled himself upward and flapped, sacrificing some of his speed to gain altitude. Above the rooftops he was at a disadvantage. The lighting was too poor and an attack could come from any angle. But he needed to know where he was going. He needed to see the direction the closest edge of the city was in and then head there. He¡¯d have to risk it.
Of course, they were anticipating it. Extremely rapid wingbeats caught Ink-Talon¡¯s attention the moment he cleared the rooftops, and he banked hard to his left as a much smaller bird rocketed under his raised right wing like a feathered missile. While a bird of that size didn¡¯t pose nearly the physical threat that the owl did, it had been going for his wings. Managing to hit one in flight at that speed could absolutely send him spiraling off-course or cause him to crash outright. He got a single good look at the bird as it seemed to halt its flight and hover before dropping back onto a darkened rooftop to vanish. It was a nightjar, and clearly far more maneuverable than he was. You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.
I got what I came for, the crow assured himself as he tucked his wings in a bit to swoop back below the rooftops, having spotted the edge of the city briefly and committed the direction to memory.
¡°Above!¡± Gray squealed out a warning, prompting Ink-Talon to flare his wings to brake as the unmistakable shape of the owl silently rushed through the space where he would have been. Unable to maintain his flight at this speed and altitude, he touched down on the street, keeping his eyes locked on the owl, who had likewise needed to land on the street a short distance ahead after missing a second divebomb this close to the ground.
¡°Thank you,¡± the crow clicked his beak to Gray as he tried to catch his breath. No matter how exceptional his flying was, there was no circumventing the fact that he wasn¡¯t used to anywhere near this level of exertion. Every muscle in his breast burned, and he knew he didn¡¯t have it in him for a full-on sprint for the city limits, much less for the edge of the crater that Darksoil sat in. He needed to slow the pace down, but not so much that more Seekers and Guardians would be able to join in the chase.
The owl, on the other wing, had no such issues. If it was remotely tired after its two failed attempts to snatch him, it didn¡¯t show it. In fact, it seemed perfectly content to just sit and watch, ready to take to the air again if he did, but in no rush to attack if Ink-Talon was just going to stand there and waste time before reinforcements arrived.
Could I fight it? Bird-to-bird? Injuring it or knocking it out would all but guarantee our escape. The nightjar doesn¡¯t have the means to capture us on its own, and it would have to stop following us to report back to someone who could. He almost dismissed the idea immediately. After all, the owl looked to weigh three or four times as much as Ink-Talon did, and as a bird of prey its beak and talons made far better natural weapons than his own. If he factored in just how tired his wings were, there was no way he could clash with it in the air and even hope to win, Attunement or no. But what if I wasn¡¯t in the air? What if I didn¡¯t fight like a normal bird? I¡¯m anything but normal.
¡°Gray, I need you to get off of my back and take cover under something. I have an idea.¡±
¡°But-¡±
¡°I¡¯m not abandoning you, I promise.¡± The confidence in his expression seemed to convince the kit, which was good, because he honestly wasn¡¯t feeling confident at all. But it was their best shot. Once Gray was on the ground, Ink-Talon tried to project that same confidence as he began to walk towards the owl. ¡°You¡¯re standing between us and our freedom. You¡¯ve tried to kill me, to kill a member of my best friend¡¯s family. Let us go, or I will make you regret it. This is your only warning.¡± The absolute certainty with which he made his threat seemed to catch the owl off-guard, but whatever reaction it initially had was quickly replaced by a glare with more than enough disdain for the Attuned crow to make out with just as much certainty.
¡°You are delusional. A danger to yourself and others.¡± The owl hooted and lowered its body, ready to spring into the air the moment Ink-Talon did. ¡°As a Guardian, I am performing my duty. Submit, or disregard your own life. That is your only warning.¡±
Rather than answer, Ink-Talon lowered his head and turned his walk into an awkward sprint, closing the remaining distance between them as fast as his little body was capable of without flight. Completely baffled by the grounded approach, the Guardian hesitated for a critical moment before spreading its wings and launching itself forward with the intent of using its talons to intercept him. But that was when Ink-Talon jumped, a single wingbeat being all that was needed to clear the owl¡¯s height. Rather than simply evade, he took advantage of the owl¡¯s overcommitment and kicked both feet downward towards its head, putting the same force he used to take off for flight into an improvised strike.
The owl¡¯s already wide eyes seemed to widen even more as it realized its mistake, and the dropkick landed with a hefty thud, driving both its head and the trajectory of its flight sharply downward. The owl skid to a stop as its body hit the ground mid-flap, while Ink-Talon used the owl¡¯s head as a springboard to leap backwards and away from the reflexive snap it took at his feet with its beak. To the Guardian¡¯s credit, it immediately pulled itself upright, spreading its wings in defiance and practically daring Ink-Talon to try that trick again.
The crow charged on foot once more, waiting until he was just outside the reach of the owl¡¯s wings before attempting his next tactic. He focused on an intent, expressing with every moving part of his body the desire to jump up and grab the owl¡¯s left wing with his talons. Making it clear that if the owl took to the air, he would take advantage of his faster takeoff speed to still hit his target. Reacting appropriately, the owl drew back its right wing and raised its left even higher, bracing itself to swat him out of the air when he tried.
Only he never did. He instead sprung to the owl¡¯s right side, his expressive feint having prompted the guardian to both fold his right wing and lean slightly in that direction. Spreading his own wings, he hopped and grabbed its right leg in his talons before flapping as hard as he could to pull the leg out from under it. Already unbalanced by its attempt to block an attack from the opposite side, the owl toppled over with a startled hoot, pinning its right wing under its own body as Ink-Talon moved to end the fight.
This time, he actually went for the maneuver he¡¯d pretended to go for previously, launching himself at the owl¡¯s outstretched wing, latching on, and twisting it by continuing to fly. The combination of the force and awkward angle led to just a little resistance before he heard the joint pop out of its socket, followed by a horrific screech of pain from the owl as it was rendered unable to fly. The fight was over in less than half a minute.
¡°Silent-Wing!¡± a startled cry sounded from the rooftops as the smaller pursuer dove to its companion¡¯s side. ¡°Silent-Wing, are you okay? What did it do to you?¡±
¡°Gray! We¡¯re going!¡± Ink-Talon called out for the kit, steadfastly ignoring his rapidly escalating horror and guilt over what he¡¯d just done. The squirrel scampered out from under a nearby cart and wordlessly resumed its place as the crow¡¯s passenger. If the child had any opinions on what had just happened, it didn¡¯t express them.
He took one final look at the two birds behind him, the owl trembling on the ground in pain while the nightjar¡¯s eyes bored into his own with what could only be pure hatred. ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± the crow managed to croak out before taking flight once more, zig-zagging through the streets and alleyways as he made for the edge of the city. The nightjar did not follow, choosing instead to stay and help its injured friend.
He¡¯d actually done it. He¡¯d actually evaded pursuit. Defended himself and Gray from someone who threatened their lives. As long as he didn¡¯t make himself easy to track, they were free. He might even be able to go get help for everyone in person, rather than relying on messengers to do the work. Somehow, things had gone even better than he ever could have hoped.
And he felt like a monster for having accomplished it.
Interstitial: The Powers that Be
Incident Report
Date: 37th Day of New Blooms, 1386th Year of Understanding
Location: Aqueduct District, Darksoil
Recorded by: Seeker Star-View
Key Participants: Seeker Star-View, Guardian Silent-Wing, Scholar Ink-Talon, unnamed gray squirrel kit
Guardian Silent-Wing and I were dispatched from the College to track and detain Scholar Ink-Talon, who had escaped into the city unsupervised in defiance of Consensus-backed orders from the Lead Guardian. As we left, we were also asked to find a gray squirrel kit by its mother, another of the of the detained afflicted. We were under no obligation to, but I agreed to try. Guardian Silent-Wing was resistant to the idea, but relented when I pointed out that the most likely place for the kit to have gone was also the first place we were going to search for Ink-Talon.
The Guardians in charge of monitoring the detainees confirmed that the only person to have left the premises with any luggage or cargo was Scribe Swift-Paw, and while they were incredibly defensive about how thorough their searches were, they eventually admitted that they had briefly left the Scribe¡¯s bags unattended where they could hypothetically be accessed after they had already been inspected.
We arrived at Scribe Swift-Paw¡¯s recently acquired home well after sunset. When we inquired about the missing creatures, the raccoon was quick to confirm that they were both there. The kit had indeed found its way into the Scribe¡¯s bags when no one was looking, and Ink-Talon had independently arrived not long before we did. Ink-Talon had apparently requested a safe shelter, while Swift-Paw had instructed Ink-Talon to return to the College and was attempting to convince the kit to go with it.
Ink-Talon did not surrender, and the kit joined it as it also refused to go back. The crow took flight with the squirrel as a passenger, forcing us to begin pursuit. Thankfully, tracking the crow¡¯s attempts at evading notice was not difficult, given the disparity between our nocturnal senses and its own.
It was at this point that Guardian Silent-Wing began behaving recklessly. I do not know the specifics of a Guardian¡¯s training, but I have worked with them to track fugitives enough to know that non-violent subjects are almost always detained with the least amount of force necessary. We had the advantage in both stamina and senses, and could have simply waited for the crow to tire. In my opinion, directly attacking Ink-Talon in any way other than attempting to force a landing was unnecessary at best, and Silent-Wing did so with clear intent to harm.
From this point onward, it is my opinion that Scholar Ink-Talon was acting in self-defense. This does not excuse its actions, nor justify the nature of its reprisal, but if Guardian Silent-Wing had not escalated the situation, then we should have been able to end things without anyone coming to harm.
Attempts to force Ink-Talon to land were successful, and it was clear that it would not be able to continue flying evasively for much longer, if at all. Silent-Wing had landed nearby, and finally seemed content to wait for its target to tire rather than continue attacking. I took position on a nearby rooftop to make sure it could not escape if it managed to elude Silent-Wing on the ground.
Three things then happened in quick succession: Rightfully threatened by Silent-Wing¡¯s assaults, Ink-Talon first demanded that the Guardian stand down, threatening violence if it did not. Then. Silent-Wing refused to do so and instead continued to make unsubtle threats of its own. Finally, Ink-Talon attacked the owl, effortlessly overwhelming it and crippling one of its wings with terrible efficiency. I rushed to Silent-Wing¡¯s aid, unable to immediately comprehend what had just happened, and declined to continue chasing after the fugitive. I can only assume that the Scholar has a yet-unknown level of precision in its Attunement that allowed for such a feat, but I cannot fathom what its nature may be, given what we were told about it ahead of time.
It is currently unknown if Guardian Silent-Wing will ever be able to return to duty. Even once it is done healing, it will likely never be able to undergo non-trivial flight without pain. I cannot begin to imagine what kind of thought process led to Ink-Talon¡¯s choice of attack, but it was not a rational one. Deliberately inflicting such an injury on a fellow avian, knowing full well how important flight is to each of us born with the capability¡ It is a horrific act of cruelty. One that I cannot abide and will never forgive.
However, it is clear that this cruelty was not inflicted for cruelty¡¯s sake. At every turn, Scholar Ink-Talon was made to think that its life was in danger, and I saw only regret in its expressions as it fled. If at any point Guardian Silent-Wing had reined in its behavior, then I am certain that this would never have been the outcome. For all of its talk of the danger the afflicted supposedly posed, the only one presenting any unprovoked danger that night was itself.The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
(Excerpt from a frequently updated list of ¡°problem individuals¡± posted in Darksoil, copies of which are placed around the city and sent to nearby settlements)
Scholar Ink-Talon
Species: Black Crow
Identifying Traits: Precision-based bodily Attunement, suffers from the yet-unexplained ¡°Border Forest Affliction,¡± wears a custom-made woven breast satchel, last seen traveling with a juvenile gray squirrel kit.
Alleged Wrongdoing: Disobeyed confinement orders given by Consensus, fled Seeker and Guardian sent to detain, and assaulted the Guardian, inflicting grievous and permanent bodily harm.
Instructions: The individual is to be detained if at all possible, and is considered dangerous to directly confront. Do not engage with the individual socially, and report any sightings to the nearest Guardian, Seeker, or Messenger capable of informing one. Once detained and returned to Darksoil, it will be kept under much stricter confinement and assessed for mental and moral fitness.
Crafter Blended-Technique
Species: Pouched Rat
Identifying Traits: Dark gray fur, bald patch on left flank, missing piece of left ear.
Alleged Wrongdoing: Promising customized tools for two different patrons while only having the materials procured to build one, then made use of sub-par substitutes in both creations that rendered both objects unsafe to use for their intended purposes and resulting in minor injuries.
Instructions: The individual is prohibited from practicing its trade until it meets with its victims and an Arbitrator to reach a Consensus on its wrongdoing and potential recompense. Refusal to cooperate will result in more severe consequences and judgements.
Surveyor Forward-Strive
Species: Woodland Rattlesnake
Identifying Traits: Reddish-brown head and dorsal scales, black and gray stripes. Distinctive parallel scars on top of head, also suffers from the ¡°Border Forest Affliction.¡±
Alleged Wrongdoing: Attacked and fatally envenomed Scholar Simple-Path after being struck by the affliction while returning from a survey. Fled from witnesses, and has not been sighted since.
Instructions: Report sightings of unfamiliar snakes immediately and take similar precautions to a feral predator. Do not assume rational behavior and do not approach, as the individual¡¯s behavior was extremely erratic both before and after the attack. Guardians have orders to detain the individual only if it is safe to do so, and that the lives of others are to take priority if violence is deemed necessary.
Unknown Vandal
Species: Unknown
Identifying Traits: Artistic talent, capable of reaching the tops of high walls through either body size or climbing ability.
Alleged Wrongdoing: Vandalizing public signage with colorful paints and-
(The remainder of the list has been rendered unreadable by bright, intricate swirls of orange and yellow paint, clearly intending to finish the above statement in a contradictory manner)
-and making sure the people of this city remember that there is more to this world than black dirt and white stone. That ¡°stability¡± and ¡°order¡± benefit most those who already have power. That static hierarchies need not exist. The world exists on a spectrum of possibilities, in the same way that colors do. If you perceive a limit to your own, ask yourself this:
Who does that limit serve?
Chapter 36: Youth is Wasted on the Young
It had been quite some time since Lead Guardian Rooted-Place had visited the College¡¯s infirmary, as it had been quite some time since a Guardian had been seriously injured in the performance of its duties. Of course, small injuries were common enough, but Darksoil was a peaceful place. The chaos of angry disagreements and unthinking carelessness had been carefully tamed under decades of its planning and guidance.
But now something had broken that peace. The source was, of course, Scholar Ink-Talon. This affliction of the mind had threatened to disrupt the peace of its city from the start. But while Rooted-Place had expected this, what it had not expected was the actual fault for the disruption to lie with one of its own Guardians.
¡°You did not have to travel all this way to see me, Lead Guardian.¡± Guardian Silent-Wing sat on one of the multitude of cushions used for bedding in the infirmary, its left wing tightly bound to its side and immobilized by a combination of splints and cloth bandages. The old tortoise¡¯s eyesight was not very clear, but the owl¡¯s eyes were so large that it was impossible to miss that it was not meeting its gaze as it spoke.
¡°Yes, I did.¡± Rooted-Place grunted. ¡°As a Guardian, you are my responsibility. I am responsible for injuries you sustain in carrying out your duty, just as I am responsible for your failures in that duty.¡±
¡°...Of course.¡± The owl visibly sagged before it tensed itself, bracing for the coming reprimand. ¡°I failed in my duty, and was injured as a result.¡±
¡°Correct. But do you know what your failure was?¡±
¡°I was outmaneuvered and allowed Ink-Talon to-¡±
¡°No.¡± The Lead Guardian stomped its forelegs, interrupting Silent-Wing. ¡°Your failure was that you attacked first.¡±
¡°But¡ You expressed yourself that they were dangerous! That we were to keep them contained for the safety of everyone!¡±
¡°They are dangerous in potential. They are like people delirious with a high fever, or those who have overindulged in fermented fruit.¡±
¡°Do these afflicted not pose a far greater danger than those?¡±
¡°Yes, but that is not an opinion shared by the public.¡± The tortoise scanned the room around them. The only other creature present was the afflicted crab on the far side of the room, and it was likely not capable of eavesdropping in its condition. ¡°The afflicted are all outwardly well-spoken, pitiable, or both. They are easy to sympathize with.¡±
¡°Why should that matter?¡±
¡°Tell me, Silent-Wing, how long ago did you hatch?¡± Rooted-Place fixed a stare on the owl¡¯s face.
¡°It will be¡ four years ago as of this Dry Winds.¡±
¡°Then I have been Lead Guardian of Darksoil for more than twenty times longer than you have even existed. I learned something very important as I watched generations of younger creatures come and go. I realized that they live in the moment, for a moment is all they have. Their opinions are ephemeral, quick to change, and they give little regard to the distant future. However, opinions are also the basis of Consensus. Consensus is power. Power can be wielded for stability and peace so long as it is given a steady and consistent guide.¡±
The owl did not respond, and its stare betrayed a deep confusion. This was all clearly too complicated of a concept for it to properly comprehend. Rooted-Place would need to simplify it.
¡°Guardians are a defensive measure against those who do not know better. We do not attack unless we are first attacked. To strike first is to instill fear in the populace.¡± The tortoise stepped forward and pushed its reptilian beak close to the owl¡¯s own, making sure it could make its point clear. ¡°Fear is a tool of the weak, of those who are too short-sighted to see that fear becomes justified hatred, and that the people¡¯s hatred will strip them of everything they have ever worked for. You cannot lead people who hate you, no matter how much you may know better than them.¡±
¡°I am sorry, Lead Guardian.¡± Silent-Wing hooted with genuine remorse. Remorse would not undo what it had done.
¡°I am glad that you now realize your true failure. I hope the knowledge serves you well in whatever role you pursue in the future.¡± Rooted-Place snorted and stepped back, watching the owl stiffen even more as it realized what that meant.
¡°Wait! Please let me-¡±
¡°A Guardian must protect their public perception as much as their people, because it is that perception that commands power, not the Guardian itself. You have ruined yours, and must be excised from the rest of us to not damage ours. You are no longer a Guardian, Silent-Wing. Farewell.¡±
The owl continued protesting and pleading as the Lead Guardian slowly walked away, but the tortoise simply tuned it out. It could not afford to give sympathy to the undeserving. There were far more pressing matters in need of its attention, and fulfilling this obligation had already taken up enough of the day as it is. Ink-Talon fleeing was proof enough that mental stability and ¡°good behavior¡± were not remotely guaranteed among the afflicted, even in those who had shown no signs of irregularity. It would have been an easy case to make to the populace, too, if not for Silent-Wing¡¯s violence in the chase.
The details of the incident were not yet common knowledge, but the Seeker¡¯s report was a matter of public record. If the subject were to come up during a Consensus, then it would strengthen the afflicted¡¯s case. The entire incident was worthless as evidence. Still, there was no rush. Politics was a long game, and Rooted-Place had all the time in the world. Security would redouble, and the afflicted would once more chafe against the restraints. Someone¡¯s delusions would eventually drive them to do something foolish, proving to the people that the danger was real.
¡°Excuse me!¡± A loud snap drew the Guardian¡¯s attention. It was Explorer Valiant-Claw, or whoever it believed itself to be, demanding its presence with a sharp clicking of its claws. ¡°Sorry, I try not to pry, but you were rather animated during part of that discussion, so I caught a small bit of it. I wanted to offer some advice, one elder to another.¡± It was clear that the crab had to devote all of its attention and concentration to expressing itself, and its movements were both deliberate and somewhat exaggerated as a result.
¡°How much did you witness?¡± Rooted-Place turned and approached the crab. It had not expressed anything that would have been alarming to anyone eavesdropping, but it had been more open about its intentions and goals than it normally would have been.
¡°Just the part where you were talking about all the younger creatures and how they lack foresight.¡± The crab waved a claw in Silent-Wing¡¯s direction. ¡°It¡¯s a good point, you have to live long enough to experience consequences to care about them. But speaking from experience, you should be careful not to overdo it.¡±
¡°You do not have experience to speak from, Valiant-Claw, no matter what you may believe.¡±A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
¡°Maybe so. Maybe this is all a dream, the last fantasy of a failing mind.¡± The crab seemed to curl in on itself as it expressed this. It was clearly much more self-aware of its reality than Rooted-Place had expected. ¡°But just in case it isn¡¯t, I would like to do my best to help as I¡¯m able. You don¡¯t have to take my advice, but I¡¯m going to give it anyway.¡± Its movements snapped right back to the overstated confidence it had before. ¡°If you spend all of your time thinking about the future, then eventually you¡¯ll run out of time to spend. If you never live in the moment, then towards the end you¡¯ll realize that your life was spent without living at all.¡±
¡°Are you finished, Explorer?¡± The tortoise grunted, refusing to even humor the suggestion with an acknowledgement.
¡°Yes.¡±
¡°Then I wish you the best in your recovery.¡± Rooted-Place once more made for the exit, and this time there were no more interruptions. As it stepped on to the small cart that one of its assistants used to transport it to and from its home, it couldn¡¯t help but think about what the crab had said. The sentiment stuck in its mind like a thorn, refusing to be ignored. Valiant-Claw seemed to think that there was some kind of balance to strike, that acting on one¡¯s whims had its place in a well-spent life.
Absurd. This is why I do not directly converse with the public. It is wrong, and it will be made to realize that soon enough.
¡°You picked a hell of a good day to start moving about. If looks could kill, that owl over there would have murdered us several times over by now.¡± Maggie extended a supportive wing to help steady the coconut crab as she found her footing on the wooden floors of the infirmary. Even facing away, she knew that Guardian Silent-Wing was boring holes into the back of her head with a glare from its bed across the room.
¡°I¡¯d like to see it try!¡± The crab snapped her two claws in a mock boxing movement. ¡°I feel like I could take on the world right now.¡±
¡°Well, let¡¯s get you settled in before we start booking matches. And yes, that is a joke!¡± The myna shouted back over her shoulder at the coyote Guardian glowering at the pair from the doorway. Ever since Ink-Talon escaped, it¡¯d been extra jumpy and strict. All the Guardians had been. They must have been given a rough dressing down for how much they¡¯d been slacking in their assigned duties as of late.
¡°So!¡± Another snap from the crab broke the tension as it began to carefully scuttle in the direction of the door. She had been practicing moving her legs in the correct sequence for the past few days, but could really only manage a slow, straight line while conversing. Anything more and she would need to devote all of her attention to keeping her multitude of limbs from getting tangled. ¡°What are the rooms here like? Is it a communal situation like this hospital, or is it more like apartments?¡±
Walking and talking with the crab was pleasant. Now that she could actually communicate without exhausting herself, she was quite the chatterbox. Her raw cheerfulness was almost unwarranted, given the circumstances. Maggie was no stranger to forcefully projecting a happier persona, but it was rather unhealthy for her. She had to check, just to head any problems off at the pass.
¡°Oh! This is honestly better than I expected!¡± The crab was busying herself carefully examining the unique fixtures in her room, which required her to stand next to or hold whatever she was looking at and then stand stock still as she focused on moving her eye-stalks to get a proper picture of whatever she was looking at. A crab¡¯s eyes and feelers were by far the most alien features of them compared to any of the other bodies the humans had ended up in, and yet beyond the annoying need to concentrate on moving them, she hadn¡¯t once complained about it being strange. ¡°They even provided some rags for dampening myself if I need to. I was prepared to have to go find a washroom, or even a well.¡±
¡°Hey, be honest with me, are you holding up okay?¡± Maggie asked the question rather bluntly, causing the crab to set down the rag she¡¯d been holding and slowly pivot to face her. ¡°You¡¯re taking to this way too well.¡±
¡°Oh, I¡¯m okay. I¡¯m better than okay, even!¡± The crab snapped both claws and tapped her right three legs in sequence. ¡°I¡¯ve had three weeks or so to think about what I¡¯d do once I was up and moving again. Why wouldn¡¯t I be excited?¡±
¡°That¡¯s another thing! You¡¯ve been stuck in place this entire time, trapped in your own mind.¡± Maggie tilted her head, eyeing the crab with mounting concern. ¡°You can¡¯t just be¡ okay after that! Even in this world, that would qualify as torture!¡±
¡°Did I ever tell you about my life before this during one of our therapy sessions?¡± The crab¡¯s tone changed drastically as she asked the question. Not to sadness or anger like Maggie would have expected, but her movements and taps instead expressed a wistful nostalgia.
¡°No, and I try not to pry.¡±
¡°Well, this is important, and I need you to know so that you¡¯ll believe me when I say that I am fine.¡± She began to pace a bit, expressing her story in her steps as much as in her claws and eyes. ¡°One of my last clear memories is of a birthday. My eighty-seventh. I know I¡¯ve had at least a few more after that, but I don¡¯t know how many.¡±
Oh. Oh no. Maggie¡¯s heart sank as it dawned on her just what she¡¯d just waded into with her line of questioning. But she didn¡¯t dare interrupt.
¡°I¡¯d been living in a nursing home for almost fifteen years at that point. I¡¯d been bedridden for at least six. I don¡¯t remember exactly when the dementia diagnosis was delivered, but it was between those two points.¡± The crab took a few steps closer and gently placed a claw on the myna¡¯s shoulder. ¡°Little bird, I have been a prisoner of my own mind and body for longer than most of the animals here have been alive. When I first woke up in Valiant-Claw¡¯s body, I could think and remember and be aware of my surroundings clearly for the first time in at least a decade. So when I say that I am happy and excited to live this life, I mean it. Even if it¡¯s temporary, even if I¡¯m living on borrowed time before I finally fade away and return this shell to its rightful owner, I am going to savor every moment and experience that I can. Okay?¡±
¡°Okay¡¡± Maggie took a deep breath, unsure whether to process everything she just heard or just try and forget she ever heard it. ¡°I¡ I¡¯m sorry. I didn¡¯t-¡±
¡°Of course you didn¡¯t know!¡± The crab playfully shoved the bird with the claw on her shoulder, immediately returning to her previous cheerful demeanor. ¡°How could you? You were right to be concerned, and I appreciate you taking the initiative to bring it up. You¡¯re doing fine, little bird.¡±
¡°If you say so,¡± Maggie looked off to the side, still uneasy, which prompted the crab to continue.
¡°I¡¯m sorry that the explanation was so unpleasant, but that¡¯s just life, sometimes. It¡¯s going to be full of unpleasant things we can¡¯t avoid, which is why finding joy and holding onto it is so important.¡± The crab¡¯s left-center leg tapped the floor idly as she thought about something. ¡°I¡¯d like to go see the other Explorers if they¡¯re available. Would they be in their rooms, or elsewhere?¡±
As it turned out, Verdant-Trail and Eager-Horizon weren¡¯t in their rooms, nor were they out in the courtyard. The sun was particularly harsh that day, and the Komodo dragon hadn¡¯t needed to spend much time sunbathing at all. Instead, they were relaxing in one of the bathhouses, the same one that Maggie and the others had been quarantined in initially. Even the bat was spending time with them, in a rather stark change from their typical asocial behavior.
¡°Valiant-Claw!¡± Eager-Horizon was the first to spot them, fluttering out of the wooden bowl that it had been enjoying a soak in and making quite the mess as it did so. ¡°Or rather¡¡± The odd bird landed and trailed off awkwardly, realizing its mistake. ¡°Regardless! It¡¯s good to see you moving about.¡±
Nice save. Maggie held in a sigh at the display. This was far from the first time she¡¯d been witness to the whole ¡°fumble and then try to talk around the issue¡± routine regarding their condition, but it hadn¡¯t gotten any less awkward regardless of how many times it happened. It was a good thing that there was at least some kind of hope now for the natives stuck in mental stasis, but Maggie wasn¡¯t exactly optimistic on the odds of everyone ever being able to exist at once. Maybe there could be a trade-off arrangement like Verdant-Trail and Chase¡¯s, but they couldn¡¯t just get new bodies to put people in. No matter what, someone was going to get a raw deal.
¡°Oh, don¡¯t be down about it, little bird!¡± The crab prodded her with a claw, having noticed her ruminating. ¡°Same goes for you, Explorer! I won¡¯t have anyone feeling bad on my account, especially not for that!¡± She shuffled her legs about a bit before suddenly jolting forward, somehow having become even more energetic than before. ¡°Ah! That¡¯s right! If you¡¯ll indulge an old woman, I want to say something to you two.¡±
The crab paused, taking a moment to carefully arrange her legs in an odd alternative to taking a deep breath. She then swiftly extended her right claw out parallel to the ground before drawing it back in at an upward angle, halting just short of hitting her eye-stalks with it. While Verdant-Trail and Eager-Horizon had no context for what they were looking at, Maggie recognized it right away. It was a salute.
¡°Explorer Garden-Blessing, reporting for duty!¡±
After several beats of stunned silence, each of the other creatures in the room more or less responded in unison.
¡°What?¡±
Chapter 37: Let it All Out
Explorer Garden-Blessing did the best she could to explain to the others what her intentions were. They were all so astonished that she had ¡°suddenly¡± come to this conclusion, as if she hadn¡¯t spent literal weeks thinking about it already!
¡°Your¡ enthusiasm is welcome, but I am not sure you have thought that declaration through.¡± Explorer Verdant-Trail hissed as it pulled itself out of the tub and closed the shutter on the water pipe. ¡°We have only just met.¡±
¡°You may technically be meeting me for the first time, but I¡¯ve been with you two as long as Chase has been! Longer, even, given the poor boy is only here half the time.¡± The crab¡¯s snaps, taps and waves took every bit of coordination she could muster. She needed to make sure the emotion came across along with the words. They needed to know she was serious. ¡°I¡¯ve seen your beautiful home, I¡¯ve learned about your fascinating work, and I¡¯ve learned just how sorely missed Explorer Valiant-Claw is. I want to try and take up its role in its absence. I want to make a home for myself in the Highnests. I want to see as much of this world as I can in the time I have.¡±
¡°Really? Just like that?¡± An angry squeak sounded from the left of the tub as the bat laying there struggled onto its feet. Garden-Blessing had spotted the bat twice in the infirmary, once when it came to ask a physician something, and another time with Verdant-Trail to attend Eager-Horizon¡¯s awakening. She hadn¡¯t spoken to it, however, and it never paid her any mind. ¡°One taste of mobility and you immediately go native? Am I the only actual human here? Or did you all just give up?¡±
¡°Hey!¡± Maggie shouted, leaping in front of the bat with a flap of her wings. ¡°Back off, kid. You have no idea what the hell you¡¯re talking about!¡±
¡°Oh, and you do? Last time I checked, humans didn¡¯t fall in love with falcons!¡±
Maggie opened and closed her beak as words failed her, and Garden-Blessing could tell that things were about to get ugly. Before she could unleash her anger upon the bat, the crab stepped in, putting her armored body between the two.
¡°Knock it off, both of you!¡± Three loud claw snaps in sequence did a good job of silencing the arguing pair, albeit only briefly. Maggie had the sense to realize what she was doing. The bat, however, did not.
¡°No! I¡¯m tired of just ignoring this! Why can¡¯t any of you see just how insane you¡¯ve been acting? Why am I the only one who realizes it? If we don¡¯t get it together, we¡¯re all going to- OW! HEY!¡±
Garden-Blessing had taken her smaller, more easily controlled claw and pinched the bat¡¯s right ear, hoping to the heavens that she wasn¡¯t putting enough pressure on it to cause any actual harm.
¡°Over here. You and me. Let¡¯s talk.¡± It took all of her concentration to walk and control her grip at the same time, so her instructions ended up blunt and stilted as she tugged the bat away from the others.
¡°Let go of me, psycho!¡± The bat briefly resisted, but their small body and poor coordination failed to make any headway, so they were stumbling along after only a moment. ¡°Okay, okay! I¡¯m coming! Slow down!¡±
Once she reached the far end of the room, Garden-Blessing released the bat and positioned herself between them and the others. In a blurry corner of her bizarre panoramic vision, the crab spotted the shape she knew was Maggie moving to speak with the other Explorers, though she couldn¡¯t tell what was being said.
¡°You seem to think that there is a problem in our little group,¡± she began, carefully angling both of her eyestalks to get a proper view of who she was talking to. Using just one to look at something, or both eyes being too close together, would leave the image flat and distorted, like she was looking at it on an old television. ¡°Seeing as I¡¯m effectively the newest person here, would you mind explaining it to me?¡±
¡°Sure. Okay. Might as well try before we all go back to pretending things are fine like we always do.¡± The bat took the opportunity to use the wall for support, allowing them to wrap their wings around themselves and give them a rest. ¡°None of you have any common sense,¡± they sighed. ¡°That¡¯s the biggest part of the problem.¡±
¡°Oh?¡±
¡°We¡¯re not like the animals here. We think differently, and we feel differently. The more we try to be like them, the sooner more of us are going to break.¡± They clenched their jaw, baring their teeth to express the next idea. ¡°But all of you are going all out on it, and it¡¯s not going to work. Just look where it got ¡®Ink-Talon¡¯ and ¡®Quiet-Dream.¡¯¡±
¡°Is something wrong with their names?¡± Garden-Blessing tilted her body a bit to ask the question, having noticed the disdain in the way their ears twitched as they expressed them.
¡°None of you should even have names!¡± The bat squealed, quickly reigning themselves in after they nearly toppled over in the process. ¡°The only ones who aren¡¯t messing up their brains doing it are Maggie and Chase, who don¡¯t count.¡± They shook their head before continuing. ¡°But the real issue is that the two of us who seemed to take charge around here have completely cracked!¡± They dramatically flared out one wing away from the wall.
¡°Go on.¡±
¡°The crow ditched us! He got one moment of freedom and flew off into the wilderness! He could have just surrendered!¡± The bat was trying to sound angry, but all the crab heard was hurt and betrayal. ¡°And of course that was the last straw for the squirrel. The guy has barely left the library in the last two days, and he was clearly on the brink the whole time he¡¯s been here. If we don¡¯t get our acts together¡¡±
¡°Then what?¡±
¡°Then one of us is going to get everyone else killed!¡± The bat screamed, their piercing shriek echoing in the mostly-empty room. If Maggie and the Explorers weren¡¯t paying attention before, they almost certainly were now. ¡°These ¡®Guardians¡¯ are just waiting for an excuse. I know they are. I can hear what they say to each other around corners and behind doors where most others can¡¯t. The only reason Ink-Talon¡¯s stunt wasn¡¯t the death of us was because he had to defend himself. If more of us break under the strain of all of this, then-¡±Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.
Garden-Blessing stepped forward and threw both of her ¡°arms¡± around the bat, scooping them off the wall and pulling them into an embrace. She probably shouldn¡¯t have done that, she didn¡¯t have the control necessary to guarantee that she wouldn¡¯t just painfully slam her limbs into them or squeeze them way too tight. Not to mention her hard carapace and complete lack of body heat didn¡¯t exactly make a hug from her all that appealing. But old habits die hard. This bat clearly needed a hug, they needed someone to comfort them, and they needed someone to reassure them that things were going to be okay. A hug from Grandma Crab would just have to do.
¡°It¡¯s okay. I¡¯m here for you. We¡¯re all here for you. We¡¯ll get through this.¡± She put as much intention and emotion into the gesture as she could, ready to release the bat the moment they began to pull away or ask her to stop. They never did. Instead, they began to make an odd, staccato chittering sound.
It was a wordless expression, devoid of any higher thought or meaning. They were cries of sorrow, anger, despair, and frustration. The bat leaned on Garden-Blessing as they continued to sob in the only way they could, their wings falling awkwardly limp to their sides. All the crab could do was hold them tighter, providing as much stability as possible.
¡°You are going to be okay.¡±
She hoped it would be enough.
One hour, seventeen minutes, and forty-two seconds. Forty-three. Forty-four.
The bat had been laying in the corner of the bathhouse with Garden-Blessing for that long already, counting the passing moments being all they could do to keep from sinking deeper into the black, yawning abyss of despair that threatened to swallow them whole. Their wings ached from how they were laying on them, more a rumpled pile of membranes and bones than anything resembling a comfortable resting position. They didn¡¯t care.
Forty-seven. Forty-eight. Forty-nine. Fifty.
The bathhouse door had opened and closed six times in the past hour, and only one set of footsteps had accompanied it each time, so they knew that the two of them weren¡¯t alone in there. Even if Maggie, Verdant-Trail, and Eager-Horizon all left one by one, at least two more people would have entered, and only one of them could have left. It didn¡¯t really matter, though. No one had said anything. There wasn¡¯t anything to say. The bat began making that horrible chittering-sob noise again. Eighth time that hour. They hated it, but they also hated what they were feeling. Hated feelings got expressed with hated sounds.
Fifty-five. Fifty-six. Fifty-seven. Fifty-eight.
¡°Hey.¡±
The bat raised their head, the first deliberate movement they¡¯d made in thirty-one minutes. It was Maggie, her tone and expression entirely unreadable between the bat¡¯s Attunement and mental state.
¡°I wanted to apologize for getting on your case the way I did. You¡¯re right that there¡¯s been a lot we¡¯ve just been ignoring, and while you were overly antagonistic about it, I¡¯d be a hypocrite if I judged you for that.¡±
¡°Thank you.¡± The bat nodded their reply, only barely able to choke back their cries, much less make other noises.
¡°With that said¡¡± Maggie glances back over her shoulder, drawing the bat¡¯s gaze to the real reason that the door had been opening and closing so much. Seeker Sunny-Plume stood just behind Maggie, acknowledging the bat with a curt nod. Quiet-Dream was watching nervously from the far end of the room, with Black-Leap perched on his back like some sort of comical garden sculpture. Song was once more lounging in the tub like she¡¯d never left, and even Swift-Paw had returned to the campus for the occasion, whatever that might have been. Verdant-Trail and Eager-Horizon hadn¡¯t left either, with the lizard even having taken the opportunity to fall asleep on the cool tile floor.
¡°Are you going to hold a pity party to try and cheer me up?¡± The question came out in a barely audible squeak.
¡°Soooo, actually¡¡± Maggie bobbed up and down on her feet for about 2.4 seconds as she considered her words. ¡°I was thinking. We all have a lot we need to discuss if we want to ¡®get our act together,¡¯ as you put it. And most of it pertains to how we¡¯re handling our personal issues and how our behavior might be impacting others. So I asked everyone if they would be willing to hold another ¡®Support Group¡¯ session, like we did on our first day here. We can have our newer arrivals acquaint themselves more formally with everyone else, then we can all air our grievances and hear everyone¡¯s perspectives. Verdant-Trail even offered to take a power nap so that Chase can attend.¡±
¡°That¡¯s a lovely idea, little bird!¡± Garden-Blessing spoke up for the first time since she had settled into the corner cradling the bat, shifting her carapace so that two of her legs could tap on the tile floor freely. ¡°I was going to introduce myself to everyone one-by-one, but this certainly makes things easier!¡±
¡°So, you in?¡± Maggie awkwardly balanced on her left foot as she lifted and extended her right one forward. She threw a wing out for balance, but still would have fallen if Sunny-Plume hadn¡¯t used one of its own wings to hold her upright. ¡°Ink-Talon always made this look easy,¡± she grumbled, finally opening her foot for a hand-less handshake. ¡°Smug bastard probably doesn¡¯t know how much he¡¯s being carried by the way his brain got rewired.¡±
¡°Probably not.¡± The bat unfolded their wings and rolled onto their feet, wincing as the bad resting posture finally came back to bite them in the form of painful tingles where his limbs had fallen asleep. ¡°And yeah. Support Group Round Two sounds like the best solution we have right now. Thanks.¡± They extended their right wing, the less numb one, so that Maggie could grasp their little thumb-claw and move it up and down. ¡°And¡ You too, Garden-Blessing. Thanks, and sorry.¡±
¡°Don¡¯t mention it, little bat!¡± The crab snapped her claws, seemingly happy just to hear (or feel?) the noise. ¡°We all just have to do what we can, when we can. No more, no less.¡±
¡°Then I hope you don¡¯t mind me doing nothing,¡± they cracked a pathetic attempt at a toothy grin.
¡°Don¡¯t sell yourself short. You¡¯re a bright one! You just need to ask for help more often.¡±
The bat took a few steps forward and nearly bowled Maggie over as they tripped over their own wings.
¡°Like right now?¡± they hissed, having collapsed into a second, even more awkward pile of limbs.
¡°Like right now, yes. Climb on.¡± Garden-Blessing held out her larger claw as a ramp of sorts, and helped nudge the bat onto the smooth back of her shell, where they had just enough room to lounge comfortably.
As the pair made their way over to join the others, the bat was unable to stop themselves from counting each of the crab¡¯s distinct, irregularly-timed footsteps (it took fifty eight steps to reach their spot in the circle). In spite of that, though, less dreary thoughts of the future started to trickle into their mind for the first time in a while. It was a feeling they weren¡¯t used to feeling, even before ending up in this body:
Hope.
Chapter 38: Eating Crow
Hunger.
Hunger is what drove the snake. Hunger overpowered fear, overpowered worry, overpowered conscience. It literally could not remember ever having eaten, and it had lost count of the days it could remember.
Prey was everywhere. Prey was always everywhere. It could taste them in the air, see the grass twitch as they moved, sense the heat of their bodies in their burrows. But she had refused. She had refused until its muscles were weak and its thoughts were sluggish.
She could not refuse any longer.
There were many scents on the wind, but one in particular stood out. A bird. It did not know why the bird drew its attention. There was closer prey. More convenient prey. But she had picked that bird. As it drew closer, it became clear that the bird was spending its time on the ground. The snake had never seen a bird remain on the ground out here for long, so it must have been injured. An injured bird was as good as dead.
Fair game. Easy prey. No harm done. A full belly would last it weeks. Perfectly natural. Something would have to die so that it could live. It is a mercy. Survival was paramount. I have no choice.
The bird was quite a distance away, taking the entire night and a chunk of the morning to reach it. It had been by pure chance that the wind had been favorable enough to carry the scent this far. But she was willing to travel for this meal, even as her body screamed at her to stop. The golden grass was somewhat thicker here than elsewhere. Ideal as camouflage, and easier to stay entirely out of sight. As it approached. The snake noticed that there was a second scent mixed with the bird¡¯s, more noticeable at this distance. A rodent of some sort. Must have been the bird¡¯s own prey, or possibly something it had scavenged. That was how the world worked, after all.
It finally spotted the bird, laying on its stomach in the middle of all the grass, one likely injured wing stretched out to its side and various bits of leaf litter and other debris scattered on top of it. It blended in remarkably well, even up close. Unfortunately for the bird, its warm body lit it up like a torch against the cold grasses and dirt at this distance. It circled quietly, preparing to strike.
It would be easy. One bite, and it would be over. The bird would be paralyzed and dying before it even regained consciousness. And once it did, it would be unable to struggle. Unable to cry. Unable to express its suffering as she-
No. These were not the thoughts of a predator. Of a survivor. It was alive. The bird was going to die. It would stay alive. She would not hesitate any longer. It would-
EEEEEEEEEEEEEE!
A loud, high-pitched scream filled the air. Too high pitched for the snake to even hear it. Rather, it felt it, the subtle buzzing of vibrations traveling across sensitive scales. The crow certainly heard it, however, leaping to its feet with a readiness that the snake never would have expected an injured animal to be capable of. Because it wasn¡¯t injured, either. Instead, its outstretched wing had been covering a diminutive squirrel, the source of the rodent scent it had noticed earlier. The squirrel hadn¡¯t been the bird¡¯s meal, the crow had been sheltering it.
¡°Gray! Climb on!¡± The crow barked an order to the squirrel, the words impacting the snake like a slap to the face, drawing the world into a sharper focus that it had almost forgotten..
It could still strike. It was close. It was fast, faster than any bird could ever react. It would strike. It tensed its muscles, bared its fangs, and lunged¡ driving her fangs into the dirt by the crow¡¯s feet.
No! Not people! I won¡¯t eat people! The snake screamed within her own mind. It spoke! It was caring for another animal¡¯s young! It! Isn¡¯t! Food! It thrashed about in the dirt, whipping and rattling its tail wildly as she fought with itself to stay put and not strike again.
¡°Wait, are you¡¡± The crow stared at the struggling snake in front of it, completely stunned by what it was witnessing. ¡°You¡¯re¡ not feral? Then why¡¡± The crow paused for only a moment before springing into action. ¡°Gray! Change of plans, stay back!¡± It leapt on top of the rattlesnake, putting its meager weight down on its head and neck. It wouldn''t be able to pin the snake, but it had latched on at a point where the snake couldn¡¯t bite it. ¡°Calm down. I want to help.¡±
The declaration made the snake stop dead in its tracks. It was just like¡
¡°Hold still. I want to help!¡± The hare hopped closer to her twitching body, its concern clear as anything she had ever heard. ¡°Forward-Strive, what is wrong?¡± She tried to talk, but she couldn¡¯t. All she could do was open her mouth, which felt way too wide. Everything was a confusing haze. Her vision strangely blurred, her skin was cold and dry, she couldn¡¯t feel her arms or legs. She could taste the air itself in ways she couldn¡¯t comprehend. But when the hare got closer, it almost seemed to glow. It was warm. It was alive.
It was easy prey.
The snake was already in a position to strike, so it did. Its jaws clamped down on the back of the hare, the surprise of the attack seeming to stun it long before the venom did. It let go and backed up, prepared for the reprisal that often came from more energetic prey. But the hare never fought back. It didn¡¯t kick, or bite, or claw. It just stared at the rattlesnake, betrayal and disbelief readable on a face that never should have been able to express such emotions.
¡°Why?¡± It asked, its voice a feeble, wordless squeak.
The snake tried to scream, but she didn¡¯t have a voice
¡°Hey.¡±
Something prodded the snake in the side of the head, rousing her from the recurring nightmare. She was lying on a bed of flattened grass. The same grass she¡¯d tried to ambush that bird in. Her head was throbbing worse than any hangover she could remember. She didn¡¯t want to move.This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.
¡°You¡¯re malnourished and dehydrated, so much so that you passed out from the strain of struggling. You¡¯re not going to be able to do anything until we fix that.¡± The crow croaked, and the snake felt something scrape against the ground in front of her. A cold, gray object slid into view. ¡°Here¡¯s some water. You need to drink it.¡±
¡°Stay back¡¡± The snake weakly shook the rattle on the end of her tail. ¡°I¡¯m¡ unsafe.¡±
¡°I¡¯ve taken precautions. You¡¯re in no condition to do much, and some clever twine usage should make it difficult for you to bite me.¡±
¡°What?¡± The snake tried to open her mouth, only to find her jaw stopped short by a loop of string around her snout, anchored tightly behind her wedge-shaped head so that it didn¡¯t slip off. She could open her mouth enough to drink or eat something small, but not enough to properly employ her fangs. ¡°Oh.¡± She lifted her head, struggling quite a lot for such a simple action, and looked at what had been placed in front of her. It was a makeshift bowl made of wet mud or clay. Slightly murky water filled it.
¡°Sorry that I couldn¡¯t keep it cleaner. That clay stuff on the riverbank was the only thing I could find to hold and carry water in, and we don¡¯t have time to let it dry, so the water is going to be a little muddy no matter what. It¡¯s not toxic, though. I checked.¡±
The snake was barely paying any attention to the explanation, and just attempted to lower her head to drink the water. Doing so was difficult. Not because she was physically unable, but because the muscle memory and know-how behind it all belonged to it. She had to cede some amount of conscious control to do it.
Thankfully, it wanted to drink the water as much as she did. It lowered its head, submerging the end of its snout in the bowl and began steadily sucking down the water like the straw it essentially was.
¡°Now, as for food¡ This won¡¯t be much, but it¡¯s the best I could do.¡±
Lifting her head from the drained bowl, the snake watched as the crow pulled away a large leaf that had been covering something, and then nudged that something over to her with her beak. It was a dead mouse, still somewhat warm.
She hesitated. This is what she needed to survive. It was already dead. All she had to do was bite down, and let it swallow. But she still hesitated.
¡°Hey, I¡¯m going to ask you a very blunt question,¡± the crow cawed and clicked, choosing its words carefully, ¡°but I need to get this out of the way.¡± It took a deep breath in preparation. ¡°You¡¯re human, right?¡±
The snake froze, her disbelief and clear recognition being more than enough confirmation for the crow.
¡°I am too. You can call me Ink-Talon.¡± The crow hopped closer and extended a wing within reach of her tail.
¡°A handshake? Really?¡± All of her disbelief and confusion faded the moment they did something so blatantly insensitive. They were human, all right.
¡°An¡ approximation of one, but point taken. Sorry.¡± Ink-Talon retracted their wing sheepishly. ¡°Do you have a name? Either a translation of your real one or one you¡¯ve come up with?¡±
¡°I¡ No.¡± The snake shook her head. She could recall the name that the hare had used. She wished she couldn¡¯t.
¡°That¡¯s fair. There¡¯s not much to prompt you to come up with one if you¡¯re wandering the wilderness by yourself.¡± Ink-Talon¡¯s gaze returned to the dead mouse on the ground between them. ¡°You should eat something before we continue.¡±
¡°Right, just¡¡±
¡°I know, it¡¯s not exactly appetizing to look at. I struggled eating bugs at first, too.¡±
¡°No. It¡¯s not that. I¡¯m vegan.¡± The moment she hissed out the words, she realized just how stupid it must have sounded.
¡°Oh!¡± Ink-Talon tilted their head, as if the possibility had never occurred to them. ¡°Oh.¡±
¡°...How did you bring yourself to do it? Kill that mouse?¡±
¡°I just¡¡± The crow¡¯s caws dropped to a near murmur. ¡°I just focused on what needed to be done and¡ didn¡¯t think about it until it was over.¡± They clearly didn¡¯t like having done it, either. ¡°But! I don¡¯t think you should take the same approach¡¡± They paused, planning their next question. ¡°You weren¡¯t the kind of vegan to insist that people keep their dogs and cats on vegan diets, were you?¡±
¡°No!¡± The snake rattled her tail. ¡°Well, maybe at first. For a few years. But I learned better! It¡¯s just as cruel to deny an animal its natural diet as it is to kill them unnecessarily.¡±
¡°Okay, well, now you are one of those animals. You¡¯re inhabiting the body of an obligate carnivore, one you¡¯re harming by refusing to eat. And I saw how you were behaving before. If you¡¯re anything like the other reptile I know¡ It¡¯s not just you in there, is it?¡±
The words hit the snake over the head like a sledgehammer, and she slowly let her body fall limp, rolling onto her side like a loose bundle of rope. She¡¯d been so disturbed by the thoughts and instincts and desires of the snake intruding on her own that she¡¯d treated it like another human being. Like some demon that was pushing her to kill and be cruel and not an animal trying to survive.
¡°Here. Just let it eat. You both need it.¡± Ink-Talon pushed the dead mouse up against her snout and then stepped back. ¡°I¡¯m going to go check on my companion. It didn¡¯t need to see something so similar to itself being eaten at its age, so I sent it to go sort through some seeds for a meal. We won¡¯t be far or hard to find, when you¡¯re done.¡±
Eating the mouse was easy, once she actually let the snake do it. She could open her jaws just wide enough for it to bite down and begin the bizarrely elaborate process of swallowing. It technically was the same as how a human swallowed, muscles tensing and relaxing in sequence, but a human throat was a fraction of the length and made to take chewed food, on top of usually being assisted by gravity. As a snake, however, she got to feel the whole mouse move along her insides inch by inch before it eventually settled somewhere in her middle.
At this point, the snake wanted to rest in the sun and digest. It needed to recover its strength to hunt something more substantial. So did she, but she also didn¡¯t want to be alone, now that she had the option. She would sun herself in the company of Ink-Talon and their ¡°companion.¡±
Which way did they go? It would be easy enough to track them down, unless they just up and flew away. I just have to face a random direction to start and let it taste around for the scent. Okay, do your thing. Her forked reptilian tongue flicked out of her mouth and quickly retracted, delivering a bunch of information that she wouldn¡¯t be able to make sense of without the context of the snake¡¯s natural instincts. The scent was certainly noticeable there, and a little movement forward confirmed its direction, as it was immediately stronger in the first direction she tried.
And that was odd. Not on its own. It was a simple enough coincidence to occur, but it was strikingly similar to the coincidences that had brought her here in the first place. She had just arbitrarily decided to hunt some random, distant bird. It had been an objectively bad idea, given the distance, but she wasn¡¯t thinking straight and just grabbed a scent at random to focus on, forcing herself into a singular mindset to try and overcome the part of her that refused to eat.
She could have picked any scent, there was no shortage of potential prey animals in these plains, and she hadn¡¯t known that the one she¡¯d picked belonged to a human like her. But she had, and she¡¯d effectively won the lottery several times over in doing so. Even when she lost the scent along the way for one reason or another, she¡¯d immediately found it again the moment she searched. And then just now, she¡¯d picked a random direction to start her search, and rather than need to move in a circle to find the direction the scent was strongest in, she¡¯d pointed herself at Ink-Talon. She didn¡¯t feel like she had any innate sense of where they were. As far as she could tell, her lucky decisions had well and truly been arbitrary.
So it¡¯s Fate, then? Sure, why not. The rattlesnake breathed deeply before starting towards the crow and squirrel. I¡¯ve been turned into a snake in some bizarro alien grassland and forced to eat mice. Fate is hardly the most absurd thing to believe in right now. Let¡¯s just hope you¡¯re a good omen, crow.
Chapter 39: Future Mes Problem
¡°Feeling better?¡± Ink-Talon squawked as the grasses nearby rustled and the rattlesnake emerged. Gray immediately stopped what it was doing and darted to the opposite side of its guardian, putting the crow between it and the predator.
¡°Not yet, need to digest.¡± The snake awkwardly bobbed their head to communicate the message. They paused, tilting their head as they looked his way. ¡°...Did that come through? I still don¡¯t know how any of this works.¡±
¡°Yeah, it¡¯s just acting with intent to communicate, whether you make a sound¡±¡ªInk-Talon made three distinct clicks with his beak to emphasize the idea¡ª¡°or move and gesture.¡± He flapped his right wing silently to express the second half.
¡°Okay. Good to know.¡± The snake nodded.
¡°Though, if you don¡¯t mind me asking, isn¡¯t that something your¡ other half would know?¡±
¡°Why would it know that? It¡¯s just a snake.¡±
¡°...Okay, I think we need to back up a bit.¡± Ink-Talon turned to face the snake with equal parts curiosity and concern. With his attunement dulling his Understanding, he couldn¡¯t be sure of what was really going on with the snake, but something about them felt¡ wrong. There was an uncanny difference between how they behaved and how any other human he¡¯d interacted with did, even Song, and he couldn¡¯t pinpoint it. But maybe someone else could. ¡°I should introduce you to my companion here, first. Gray? Do you want to say hello? You¡¯re safe, I promise.¡±
¡°Okay¡¡± Rather than peek out from the side, the kit instead decided to clamber up onto Ink-Talon¡¯s back, in the same position it¡¯d take as his passenger in flight. ¡°Hello,¡± it chittered nervously. ¡°Please promise you won¡¯t eat me.¡±
¡°I promise,¡± the snake nodded. ¡°I don¡¯t eat people.¡±
¡°But if its not a person?¡± Gray tensed up, digging its tiny claws into the feathers on Ink-Talon¡¯s back, and prompting the crow to scramble to salvage the situation.
¡°You will not be eaten, not by them, or anyone else. Not as long as I¡¯m around.¡± He put as much conviction and absolute certainty into his chirps as he could, and it seemed to placate the kit enough for him to finish the introduction. ¡°This is one of my best friend¡¯s children. We call it Gray because it doesn¡¯t seem that keen on picking a name for itself just yet.¡± The crow then turned his head, side-eyeing the snake and putting his beak entirely out of view of the squirrel before silently opening and closing it to communicate with the snake privately. ¡°It¡¯s been resistant to the idea of ¡®being a person,¡¯ too, so your promise wasn¡¯t the most reassuring thing. We¡¯re working on it.¡±
¡°I¡¯m sorry, to both of you.¡± The snake coiled back and rested their head on themselves, and once more Ink-Talon was hit with that pervading sense of wrongness.
¡°Nobody was hurt, so don¡¯t worry about it.¡± Ink-Talon squawked before tilting his head as he continued. ¡°But I think we should hear each other¡¯s stories from the beginning. There¡¯s a lot you don¡¯t know, and a lot that I¡¯m curious to find out.¡±
The rattlesnake explained what had happened to her to Ink-Talon, bracing herself the entire time for the judgment for what she did shortly after arrival. She had blood on her nonexistent hands, and it disgusted her. Surely the crow would feel the same. But that wasn¡¯t the emotion that came across in his croaks and chirps as he responded. No, the crow¡¯s feelings on her sins were entirely absent, as if it didn¡¯t phase him at all. Instead, he just moved on to explaining what his past few weeks had been like.
She and Ink-Talon weren¡¯t the only humans who had found themselves in this world. He had left seven of them behind in ¡°Darksoil,¡± the city he was fleeing from, and had reason to believe that there were plenty more, all of them tied to whatever lay past that forest where they first woke up. However, when he got to the reason why he and Gray were fleeing, the reason why they traveled so light and slept under camouflaged cover, she realized why his reaction to her story had been so muted.
He already knew about what she had done. It was the reason why he and the others had been persecuted. What he hadn¡¯t known was why.
¡°I don¡¯t blame you, to be clear,¡± Ink-Talon trilled sympathetically. ¡°I certainly did, once upon a time, and I still would if you had done it deliberately. But you, that hare, the original owners of our bodies. All of us are just victims of circumstance.¡±
¡°What about the snake? It¡¯s here too. It still wants to eat, and it doesn¡¯t care if its prey is sapient.¡±
¡°That snake isn¡¯t you.¡± Ink-Talon stepped forward, crouched and tentatively extended a wing, only draping it over her back when she didn¡¯t express any objections. ¡°I don¡¯t think it¡¯s even the original owner of that body. I think it¡¯s just¡ a snake. The raw consciousness of the animal brain, unaltered by the Gift of Understanding. I¡¯ve¡ experienced that before, but not in the way you are. The crow-mind was only ever present in the absence of the Gift altogether, when I¡ wasn¡¯t.¡±
¡°But¡ why?¡± She stared desperately into the crow¡¯s eyes, hoping against hope that he might have an answer. He didn¡¯t.Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.
¡°I don¡¯t know. Two of my friends back in Darksoil, a Komodo Dragon and a giant salamander, have a similar kind of dual-minded nature, but neither of them involve a feral mind or actively conflict like this.¡± Once more, the Ink-Talon¡¯s expressions were worryingly devoid of emotion.
Is he always like this? Numb to the pain of these questions? Or was he just hiding his true feelings? The snake tried not to overthink it, because neither possibility was particularly reassuring. She wasn¡¯t doing a very good job. He does seem to genuinely care, but why is he so¡ calm?
¡°I don¡¯t like the way I am, either,¡± Gray squeaked, finally moving out from behind Ink-Talon, but still tense and prepared to run away. ¡°I also want to learn why. Do you?¡±
The rattlesnake mind immediately saw its next meal, but the already-eaten mouse and an emphatic and preemptive denial from her human mind got it to settle down without a fight this time.
¡°I¡ don¡¯t know what I want.¡± She shook her head, dejected. ¡°At least, I don¡¯t know what I want that¡¯s possible. Because going home doesn¡¯t seem to be. But¡ I don¡¯t think I want to go looking for answers, either. Not when I can barely handle the situation in front of me.¡±
The snake-mind, however, knew exactly what it wanted, and for once the two of them were in agreement. To it, entertaining these questions was a waste of time when so much needed to be done to survive. It wanted nothing more than to rest in peace, digest this meal, and then go hunt something more substantial. It would avoid hunting the two in front of it because it knew that there would just be another stalemate if it didn¡¯t, but something needed to be eaten sooner rather than later.
¡°Well, finding stability and safety is incredibly important, and the two of us are in dire need of it as well. You¡¯re welcome to accompany us.¡± Ink-Talon looked down at the squirrel next to him. ¡°Is that okay with you, Gray?¡±
¡°Yes.¡± The kit simply nodded, not explaining anything further, but the answer seemed to make the crow relax. Was he really putting that much stock in an animal-child¡¯s opinion? What would he have done if it said no? And if he was leaving the decision of staying with them up to it¡
¡°...Wait.¡± The snake coiled back, pulling out from under Ink-Talon¡¯s wing. ¡°You didn¡¯t come out here searching for me? The way you talked about the situation back in that city, I thought finding me to clear everyone¡¯s names was the goal. How did you find me, then?¡±
¡°I¡ didn¡¯t?¡± The crow tilted his head and croaked in confusion. ¡°You found us, remember? But you lost control before you could introduce yourself.¡±
¡°No! I genuinely was going to let the snake eat you to save us both.¡± She rattled her tail as she shuddered in shame and disgust. ¡°I had no idea you were a person at all, much less human.¡±
¡°But you said you traveled a while to get here. Why go that far for a meal when there¡¯s plenty available?¡±
¡°I don¡¯t know, okay?¡± she hissed back. ¡°It was arbitrary! Don¡¯t blame me for Fate deciding that I¡¯d have to try and eat the only person around who could help me!¡±
¡°...Fate?¡± The crow was well and truly stumped by that one. ¡°Are you serious, or is that just an attempt at a turn of phrase?¡±
¡°Dead serious. How else would you explain it? And before you say ¡®coincidence,¡¯ tell me why you are here, in this exact spot, having bedded down directly upwind from where I had been.¡±
¡°We¡¯re lost.¡± Gray answered for the crow, blunt and confident.
¡°We are not lost,¡± Ink-Talon squawked, stomping a foot for emphasis. ¡°I could easily get us back to Darksoil. I just¡ don¡¯t know where anything else is. I never bothered to look closely at any of those terrible maps and I never planned on having to flee the city. I know the Highnests are vaguely ¡®dawnward,¡¯ from what the Explorers said, so that¡¯s the way we¡¯re going.¡±
¡°So, you just picked a heading arbitrarily and flew that way?¡±
¡°More or less, I guess?¡±
¡°See what I mean?¡± The snake reared up a bit, bringing her head to eye-level with the crow. ¡°You just randomly picked a direction to move in, and it just happened to be directly towards me. And then I randomly selected your scent out of all of the ones I could smell and though sheer luck managed to re-find it repeatedly during the long trip. How impossible does a coincidence have to get before it stops being one?¡±
¡°Okay, it¡¯s far-fetched, but so is the other option.¡± The crow huffed and fluffed up his feathers. It was definitely an unpleasant idea to contemplate, so she couldn¡¯t blame him for being annoyed by it. ¡°There has to be another explanation. But even if there isn''t, what should we do about it?¡±
¡°Nothing. Just keep picking randomly until something obvious presents itself, like you probably were already.¡± The rattlesnake attempted to smile, which was perhaps the most menacing face she could have made, but Ink-Talon got the intent a few seconds after flinching. ¡°The idea that we¡¯re being drawn towards each other just gives me a little hope, and I¡¯m going to hold on to that. So lead the way, and I¡¯ll follow.¡±
¡°Sure, whatever makes things easier for you. We all need hope.¡± The crow looked around and then up at the sky. It was mid-afternoon, judging by the sun¡¯s position. ¡°We¡¯re staying here tonight, though. You still need to rest and eat some more.¡±
¡°Rest. That does sound good¡¡± The snake found an open sunny patch where the grass had been flattened already and coiled up in it. It is good not to be alone anymore, but interacting with other people is still just as awkward as it always was. Funny how that works.
Humor does not further our survival. If she wasn¡¯t already cold-blooded, the awareness of coherent thoughts that were not her own would have made her blood run cold anyway. Rest. We hunt as soon as we are able.
The snake-mind had just spoken to her, and she decided that working through the implications of that was a job for a future version of herself.
Correct. Future ideas must not take priority over present needs.
And it was a real nag, too. Great.
Chapter 40: Single-Minded Focus
¡°Gray, what do you think about her?¡± Ink-Talon stared down at the kit as he asked about the snake, a keen curiosity in his tone that he¡¯d missed feeling recently.
¡°She is...¡± The kit clearly lacked the context to explain exactly what they perceived, but it did its best anyway. ¡°She says two things at once. Both true.¡±
¡°As in, two different ideas?¡±
¡°No. Emotions. There¡¯s always two.¡± Gray paused for a moment before giving the crow what was perhaps the saddest look it ever had. ¡°One hates the other. The other is just sad.¡±
No wonder I couldn¡¯t quite tell what was wrong. Ink-Talon sighed, glancing over to where the snake had coiled up in the sun. What am I supposed to do here? Giving emotional support is one thing, but this needs more practical advice than I think I¡¯m capable of. And how are we going to travel? We¡¯ve gone a fair distance in the last day, about as far as Deep¡¯s End was from Darksoil if those ¡®typical flight¡¯ estimates were anything to go by, but now we have to travel by ground.
¡°What about the path?¡± Gray peeped, interrupting the crow¡¯s train of thought.
¡°What?¡±
¡°You think outward a lot.¡± The kit growled, seemingly annoyed by its own ability to comprehend Ink-Talon¡¯s accidental expressions. ¡°But we saw a path. From the sky.¡±
The kit was right. He had spotted a packed-dirt road leading away from Darksoil during the previous day¡¯s flight. It was going in the same general direction that they were, but between not knowing where exactly it led and traveling along the road making them much more likely to be spotted by those searching for them, he decided to give it a wide berth. If they were going to be traveling by foot for a considerable distance, getting back onto it was the only real means they had of navigating that didn¡¯t involve him taking wing repeatedly to survey the area as they traveled. He still wasn¡¯t used to frequent, strenuous flight, and taking off or landing ate up a lot of stamina on their own.
¡°Good thinking, Gray.¡± Ink-Talon did his best beak-smile and gently brushed his wingtip across the squirrel¡¯s back. He couldn¡¯t really do any of the things Quiet-Dream would do to show care and affection, but this seemed to be a decent approximation. Or at least the kit didn¡¯t outright reject it. He couldn''t really tell. ¡°You just saved us all a lot of hassle.¡±
¡°I avoid thinking too much,¡± the kit murmured. ¡°It¡¯s distracting and it hurts. Makes it easy to remember important things.¡±
¡°Oh.¡± The crow¡¯s heart sank as Gray shifted its gaze to the ground. The entire reason either of them were out here in the first place was because the little squirrel was having something of an identity crisis that led to its escape attempt, one of an entirely different nature than his own, or any of the other ex-humans for that matter. They hadn¡¯t talked about it at all, and Ink-Talon honestly didn¡¯t know what he could even say to the poor thing. It was probably even farther beyond his expertise than the snake¡¯s issues. ¡°If you ever want to talk to me about anything, just let me know, okay? I¡¯m here for you.¡±
¡°Okay.¡± The kit wandered off and sat down next to the small number of seeds it had foraged for a meal and began to eat.
¡°I¡¯m going to see if I can spot that road, so we can plan which way we¡¯re heading tomorrow,¡± Ink-Talon squawked out a hurried plan to Gray, eager to give it some space and escape that awkward anxiety gnawing at his guts. He immediately launched himself skyward when the squirrel acknowledged him with a simple nod, immediately regretting not taking the time to moderate his climb as he only narrowly avoided spinning out from the sudden rush of vertigo.
Even after weeks as a bird, sudden, large changes in altitude still messed with his head. It seemed to be hard-wired into his human reflexes, and no amount of acceptance of his body would shortcut the conditioning needed to overcome it. If the encounter with the owl and nightjar back in the city hadn¡¯t been a largely horizontal one, mostly taking place below the rooftops, then he would either be dead or captured right now. Below him, Gray dwindled to a barely perceptible dot, while the lounging form of the snake remained quite visible as she lay coiled in a loose spiral in the sun. The road, however, was nowhere to be seen. He had veered to the left when he¡¯d spotted it before, so keeping his general eastern bearing it would be somewhere to the right.
He found it after about a few minutes of sustained flight, though he had trouble telling exactly how much. He missed the bat being a living timepiece for things like this, though he was sure the poor kid would resent being thought of like that.
They probably resent me for running away, too. All of them probably do. Ink-Talon shoved the horrid thought to the back of his head. He¡¯d made a snap decision under pressure to maximize the chances of Verdant-Trail¡¯s message being delivered. Even if he was never forgiven for that, he hoped the others could understand why he did it. Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.
¡°So you just picked a heading arbitrarily?¡± The accusation of the snake was the next thing to pop into his head. Not because he thought that this situation being predestined was worth considering, but because she was right about just how¡ arbitrary his decisions had been up to this point. He could tell himself all he wanted that he was under pressure and needed to act, but that didn¡¯t change the fact that most of his decisions had been made with so little information that he might as well not be making them at all.
Even the few educated guesses he¡¯d made had gone wildly wrong. He¡¯d assumed that giving the Guardians a little runaround before getting captured would be relatively safe and act as a distraction from Swift-Paw. But it turned out that they were out for blood, and he didn¡¯t even know if Swift-Paw was able to keep the letter hidden. Hell, he probably could have surrendered to the owl once they were both grounded, but he¡¯d decided not to believe the offer and fight. And in the fight¡
Well, at least I did one thing that night that wasn''t a wild guess. No, he¡¯d been so certain of what he had to do to win that the reality of what he was actually doing didn¡¯t cross his mind until it was over. Physician Able-Heart had been extremely correct about his Attunement being goal-oriented, and doing anything other than completely crippling his opponent would have been antithetical to ensuring his escape. Long-term planning, worry, kindness, empathy. All of them would have gotten in the way, so all of them were sacrificed to raw, calculated tactics and precision violence.
It was the same with that mouse that morning. He decided that he needed to hunt something for the snake despite not being a bird of prey, and he did so with ruthless efficiency, pouncing on and breaking the rodent¡¯s neck without any remorse until after the snake had asked him how he managed to do it. Even right now, as he was thinking about it, he was consciously stopping himself from letting those feelings of disgust and regret be suppressed in the name of flying back more efficiently. He had to feel them. He had to remain himself, and that was as important of a goal as anything. He couldn¡¯t take the easy way out and let morality and empathy become secondary concerns.
There was only one way that would end.
However the sight he returned to at ¡°camp¡± immediately pushed all of his concerns to the side. The snake was no longer coiled up and was instead staring at Gray, who had apparently stopped eating and approached. The feral half of the snake wouldn¡¯t be able to use its fangs with the makeshift muzzle still around its mouth, but it sure as hell could still bite and constrict and swallow the tiny squirrel if it tried. He needed to get down there and stand guard.
¡°Gray!¡± Ink-Talon touched down with a concerned squawk, drawing the attention of both of the other creatures. ¡°Is everything okay? What¡¯s going on?¡±
¡°The forbidden prey wished to have a conversation with me,¡± the snake explained with a swish of its body, locking eyes with the crow. These were not the mannerisms of the human woman he had previously spoken with, and they carried none of their sense of ¡°wrongness.¡± He was speaking with the snake itself, who was apparently not quite feral. ¡°I agreed, under the condition that the Other would only interfere if I tried to feed. Even now, it is vigilant, prepared to force another stalemate in an instant.¡±
¡°Is this true?¡± Ink-Talon turned to Gray, who nodded.
¡°Yes. We¡¯re similar.¡±
¡°Similar how?¡±
¡°This prey wants my perspective. We both recently had awareness forced upon us,¡± the snake answered with a maturity that either came from its actual age or the human ¡°Other.¡± There was no way of telling. ¡°I am not taking well to it, as complex thought and ¡®moral¡¯ obligations are distracting and unwanted. They stand in the way of efficient survival. They would have led to my death if you had not intervened.¡±
¡°I see.¡± He barely kept himself from shuddering as the sentiment echoed the logic of his own Attunement in a way that sent a shiver from his beak to his tail feathers. ¡°I appreciate the civility, nonetheless.¡±
¡°Unless I can somehow be separated from the Other and the Original entirely, it is necessary for my own survival. Nothing more.¡±
¡°Still, I thank those whose actions deserve it.¡±
¡°Do what you will.¡± The snake coiled back and looked at Gray once more. ¡°Is there more you wish to discuss, prey?¡±
¡°Maybe?¡± Gray murmured the answer, unable to meet the snake¡¯s gaze. ¡°But not now.¡±
¡°Good. I will return to digesting your gifted meal while you do the same with your thoughts.¡± Having tightly curled up once again, the snake rattled its tail with both an announcement and a warning. ¡°The Other and I will hunt this evening. Do not interfere.¡±
Immediately after the rattle, the snake nodded twice to Ink-Talon, expressing a simple ¡°I¡¯m okay¡± and ¡°sorry¡± from their human half. It was a relief to know that she was fine and was working out some kind of agreement with the formerly-feral snake-mind, but there was no way of knowing if the arrangement was remotely sustainable. Only time would tell.
¡°Gray?¡± the crow once more turned back to his charge and chirped, tilting his head in concern. ¡°Don¡¯t forget, you can talk to me about any of this any time.¡±
¡°I know.¡± Once more, his attempt at bridging the gap between them was rebuffed, and the kit returned to its foraged meal to pick through the remains.
With nothing else requiring his attention and both of his new companions needing time and space to process things, he decided to go browsing the grasses and nearby bushes for something to eat himself. They had a long road ahead of them, and the only thing there was to do was take things one step at a time.
Ink-Talon could only hope he wasn¡¯t leading a doomed march.
Chapter 41: To Weather the Weather
Traveling on foot, even by road, was not a pleasant experience. Of the three of them, the snake was best suited to overland travel, and even they weren¡¯t exactly built for going significant distances. Further hampering their travel speed was the weather. It had turned hot and humid, the sun bearing down and threatening to bake Ink-Talon alive thanks to his all-black plumage. It also made him painfully aware of part of being a bird that he¡¯d been unfortunate enough not to learn about in his past life.
Birds did not sweat.
This meant that they must have had other ways of regulating body temperature, ways that the former human was entirely unaware of and unable to perform without an example. In the end, what should have been a full day of travel instead turned to maybe a quarter of a day¡¯s worth, halted by frequent breaks and cooling in the shade of shrubs and roadside grasses. All the while, Ink-Talon bent the full might of his Attunement towards the goal of experimenting and figuring out how the hell birds could ever live anywhere hot.
He¡¯d expected to just be able to intuit what to do like he could for his motor skills, but he very quickly ran into an important difference here. When he used his Attunement to teach himself how to walk or eat or fly, he already knew exactly what movements he was trying to perform and just needed his body to cooperate. His Attunement let him bypass the need for practice by standing in for muscle memory. For this, though, he had no idea what his goal was other than ¡°cool off.¡± He wasn¡¯t struggling with moving, he was struggling with a lack of knowledge of what to move.
The most aid his Attunement could give him in this was informing him how close he was to dangerously overheating at the moment and how effective a given attempt at cooling himself off was. Still, he learned a few important things by trying random ideas. First was that increasing the exposed surface area of his body helped. Unfurling his wings and holding them to his sides both exposed his core to more air flow and allowed heat to bleed off the much thinner flesh of his open wings. As an added bonus, his open wings also provided shade to Gray, who while not suffering nearly as much, still struggled a bit in the sun.
The second was that he could almost pant like a dog, opening his beak and breathing rapidly through his mouth. He was certain that he was doing something wrong in terms of the technique, but it did help a bit. It made him feel extremely silly, but it wasn¡¯t as if either of his companions cared.
In the end, though, the day was more or less a bust. The only upsides were that they didn¡¯t encounter any other travelers, and that they managed to make camp alongside a stream that more or less alleviated any of the problems with ambient heat for the evening.
¡°You¡ didn¡¯t really plan for the climate out here, did you?¡± The snake, presumably the human half, asked once they had come to their final stop for the night. Before Ink-Talon could answer, though, her body seemed to seize for a moment. ¡°Hey! Don¡¯t-¡±
¡°The crow clearly has not planned anything, as is natural.¡± The snake rattled its tail, the more animalistic half interjecting out loud to make sure Ink-Talon heard it. ¡°Time spent planning for the unpredictable is time that could be spent reacting appropriately to events as they happen.¡±
¡°I disagree, but you¡¯re right that I failed to plan ahead.¡± The crow finished splashing around in the shallow water and shook himself off, moving to examine the small satchel that he¡¯d been wearing since leaving the College. ¡°If I had ever intended to travel, I would have packed more than a length of twine, a metal wire, a chunk of cork, and a shard of flint.¡± He sighed, turning his head to preen the feathers on his back where the bag¡¯s straps had been sitting for the last two days and wincing a bit as he discovered that he¡¯d developed a rash from wearing it too long.
¡°With gear like that, you make it sound like you were planning a heist on a budget.¡± The snake¡¯s smirking tone quickly faded as Ink-Talon just stared at her with a tired look in his eyes. ¡°Oh. You were, almost. Sorry.¡±
Everyone was too tired to make much conversation after that, and a sleepy silence pervaded the final hours of the day as the sounds of crickets and other buzzing insects began to fill the air. The air cooled and Ink-Talon spent his time cleaning and tended to his feathers enough to put his satchel back on, this time with a little more slack for breathability. Eventually, however, Gray perked up, sniffing the air and looking around with apparent concern.
¡°Is someone coming?¡± Ink-Talon asked the kit, trying not to outwardly display any of his sudden spike in anxiety.
¡°No,¡± Gray answered, before asking a bizarre question. ¡°Why is the air so heavy?¡±
¡°...Heavy?¡± The crow tilted his head.
¡°I feel it on my eyes and ears.¡± It chittered quietly, its eyes transfixed on the sky.
¡°Wait, is it talking about¡ barometric pressure?¡± The snake lifted its head and moved closer. ¡°Is it sensitive to that?¡±
¡°I wouldn¡¯t rule it out, given how delicate its body must be, no offense.¡± If the kit was bothered by the observation, it didn¡¯t show it. ¡°It¡¯s kinda like how an old person¡¯s joints will ache before a¡ storm...¡± The moment Ink-Talon expressed the comparison, a chilling realization struck him. He¡¯d been present in this world for a little over three weeks, and not once had it rained. There clearly wasn¡¯t a drought, judging by the health of the plants and the patches of mud in the wasteland around Darksoil when they had first arrived, but that left another, far more terrifying possibility. ¡°Stay here, I need to check something.¡± If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.
Without even waiting for a response, the crow launched himself upward, fighting through the horrible lurching in his head as he did. The evening sky was perfectly clear, but that could easily change. He needed to see farther into the distance, because if his half-remembered high-school science classes were correct, a sudden increase in air pressure likely preceded rain, and there was no reason to assume that the climate or seasons here were like any he was familiar with. If it was going to rain, it was probably going to rain hard.
And sure enough, as he climbed higher and the air grew colder, a dark, roiling line of clouds became visible on the horizon. As if to shatter any hope that it wouldn¡¯t be that bad, three jagged forks of lightning arced across the storm front in quick succession.
We need to move! We need to find shelter! Where? Circling about, Ink-Talon scanned in every direction to find anything that stood out from the dirt and grasses. He spied what might have been burrows for small animals scattered about the immediate vicinity, but they were liable to either flood or collapse in a torrential downpour. The low shrubs nearby wouldn¡¯t cut it, either. There weren¡¯t enough clumped together to properly break the wind. The only thing he could see was the treeline of some woods in the distance, south of the road.
It was also the only option they had.
¡°Both of you, we¡¯re moving!¡± Ink-Talon screeched as he touched back down, stumbling a bit as his vision swam from the too-fast descent. ¡°There¡¯s a massive storm front coming this way, and we¡¯re going to get swept away in the wind and rain if we don¡¯t find shelter.¡±
¡°Shelter where? We¡¯re in the middle of nowhere!¡± The snake coiled like a spring, clearly having been afraid of this the entire time Ink-Talon had been flying up.
¡°There¡¯s a forest to the south. If we move as fast as we can, we may just make it to the treeline before the worst of it hits.¡± He opted to leave any estimations on their odds out of his urgent squawking. ¡°Gray, climb on, we need to go faster than you can manage!¡±
As the crow and snake began their wild sprint, Gray was just as silent as it had been during the escape from Darksoil. But there was one key difference this time. This time, Ink-Talon could feel the squirrel trembling as its paws gripped the feathers on his back as tight as was physically possible. Its fear was contagious, but he couldn¡¯t afford to feel it. He couldn¡¯t afford to risk any of their lives.
The snake was faster on the ground than he was, but he was faster in the air than it was. It made for an awkward start-and-stop pattern of flight, but he ignored the strain of it all and pushed forward. He refused to let himself entertain the idea of just leaving the snake behind, lest his Attunement take the idea and run with it as a goal. The sky was growing dark, and a cold wind began to whip across the plains in short gusts. He could only barely see the distant trees when fluttering above the grass when the first drops of rain began to fall.
¡°Are you¡ Doing¡ Okay?¡± The snake swerved a bit in their movements to ask the question, the expression coming across strained and fragmented as a result.
¡°Yes!¡± Ink-Talon screeched the lie, immediately regretting letting a breath¡¯s worth of air out of his lungs to do so. As if to rub it in, the downpour started in earnest, the deluge of raindrops impacting his small body with the proportional force of a torrent of golf balls. Painful and hampering, but not enough to stop him just yet. No, the actual part that stopped him was the wind gusting as he flew to catch up. The moment he spread his wings, he was lifted and thrown sideways, barely managing to draw his right wing back in before he hit the ground hard.
¡°Ink-Talon! Get up!¡± A panicked squeak managed to pierce through the ringing in his ears from the impact. The situation was not helped as a thunderclap boomed overhead, and Gray¡¯s entire body locked up, its tiny claws painfully digging into his skin. The sharp pinch was just enough to clear his head, though, and he stood and kept running, angling back towards the snake and keeping grounded.
Another stretch of stinging rain and chilling wind later, the trees were finally in sight. They had maybe 20 more yards to go, give or take, but the storm decided Ink-Talon in particular would not be allowed to go any further. Even with his wings closed and Gray on his back, he found his talons leaving the ground as the gusts picked up into a full-on gale. His desperate attempt at anchoring himself to the grass only lasted long enough for him to realize just how screwed he was.
Time seemed to slow to a crawl as he put every ounce of consciousness he had into trying to find a way to survive. He immediately knew that between his weight, hollow bones, and the sheer force of the storm, he was going to be whipped about and horrifically dashed against the ground some distance away. By the time the last clump of grass beneath his feet had been torn up by the roots, he realized that there was nothing he could do. If he opened his wings, the wind would only throw him farther and faster. He would just get to control the angle of the smear he¡¯d leave on the soil. And Gray... He couldn''t even begin to guess its odds, but they weren''t good.
They were going to die.
¡°NO!¡± Sudden, searing pain accompanied by a SNAP that reverberated through every bone in Ink-Talon¡¯s body shattered the cold, emotionless assessment of his own cause of death, and he found himself hanging in mid-air. ¡°YOU ARE STAYING HERE! WE ARE GOING TO SURVIVE!¡± The pain intensified further as he was wrenched downward, pinned to the ground as dark, scaly coils wound themselves around both him and Gray, whose grip went slack the moment it was secured. The last thing Ink-Talon saw before blacking out himself was a brief glimpse of the snake¡¯s mouth clamped down his left leg, his own blood mixing with the mud beneath them, and a look in the snake¡¯s eyes that directly communicated one simple message:
¡°I will never let go.¡±
Chapter 42: The Activist
¡°Wake up! Please wake up!¡± Desperate squeaks and scratches along her scales roused the snake from a cold, wet slumber. She opened her eyes to find the world bright and glistening, and herself coiled tightly in the mud and grass. ¡°I can¡¯t move!¡± More squeaks and scratches, and she was now awake enough to realize that they were coming from within her own coils. The previous evening¡¯s events came back to her, and she remembered binding Ink-Talon and the squirrel with her body and hoping that their combined mass would hold against the wind. She remembered-
¡°Sorry! I¡¯m awake!¡± She immediately loosened her coils and let her companions go, though her muscles were far slower to respond than she would have liked. If it weren¡¯t for the warmth of the morning sun, she¡¯d probably find it difficult to move at all. ¡°Let¡¯s get you out of-¡±
We should release the crow¡¯s leg, the animal-voice in her head suggested, reminding her of the other thing she¡¯d had to do to secure everyone. Vipers struck fast and with precision to bite small, moving targets. She¡¯d been able to react to Ink-Talon leaving the ground by lashing out and grabbing one of his legs in her mouth. She was still clamped down on it, her fangs thankfully hooked around the twig-like limb rather than piercing through it. Unless you were planning on eating it? It would not be a bad idea.
¡°There!¡± She opened her mouth and fully unwound herself. ¡°Sorry about the leg, it was the only thing I could¡¡± The sight of the limb she had just spat out made her heart sink. It was very clearly broken, bending in one more place than it should have been, and while she hadn¡¯t punctured it with her fangs, her other teeth had left no shortage of tiny wounds around the break. ¡°Oh God. I¡¯m so sorry.¡±
¡°He isn¡¯t awake.¡± A sad murmur from Gray finally got her to wrench her gaze away from the injury. The squirrel was crouched in the mud, its body tucked up under the unconscious Ink-Talon¡¯s left wing for warmth. It brought to mind one of those advertisements she would see on television for pet adoption and rescue, the ones with the slow montage of dirty, trembling animals set to sad music. The kit¡¯s damp fur making it look even smaller than usual only added to the effect.
Okay, you¡¯re the resident survivalist here, she mentally addressed the snake-voice. Any suggestions?
We will improve our chances of survival if we leave-
Any suggestions that don¡¯t involve callously abandoning the people who saved our lives? Or eating them?
It paused, genuinely trying to adapt the idea to its worldview and come up with an answer.
No.
It failed to do so, and all she could do was sigh and fall back on her first-aid training. This was far from the first time she¡¯d had to stabilize a broken limb absent a medical professional. Just the first time she¡¯d had to do it without arms.
¡°Gray? I¡¯m going to need your help, okay?¡± She gently lowered her head to eye-level with the kit, trying desperately to be a calming presence. Its breathing slowed somewhat and it met her gaze, but it did not respond. It simply stared and shivered. ¡°You¡¯re the only one of us who can grab and hold things with your limbs. I can guide you and help where I can, but without you I can¡¯t help Ink-Talon. Understand?¡±
¡°Yes.¡± If the squirrel hadn¡¯t twitched when it peeped its answer, she wouldn¡¯t have noticed it.
¡°Thank you.¡± She took a deep breath and raised her head to get a better look at what she was dealing with. Okay. We can do this. This is a real, solvable crisis. Concrete.
As opposed to what? Her serpentine headmate asked. What is keeping you from breaking and panicking like before?
This problem isn¡¯t a fantastical, existential nightmare, she answered. This is something I am more used to. Something familiar.
Perhaps you are not as fragile as I assumed. The snake-mind said no more and simply watched, contributing nothing to the proceedings but the occasional correction when she struggled to move how she needed to. It seemed¡ content? Content that it did not need to constantly interject for self-preservation. Content that the woman determined to stay in the driver¡¯s seat had developed a backbone and proper goals.
It was right, she had. She knew what she had to do, and she knew where things had to go in the short term. This was not their world, but that didn¡¯t mean she had to roll over and accept it. And right now? She had work to do.
¡°Gray. I need you to open up Ink-Talon¡¯s bag and get everything out of it. We need those materials to improvise a splint¡¡±
¡°Stay calm, and try not to move,¡± a loud, insistent rattle was the first thing Ink-Talon heard upon regaining consciousness, and he followed the instructions instinctively as he struggled to form a coherent thought of his own. ¡°I have no idea how much pain you are going to be in, but my guess is ¡®a lot.¡¯ You need to keep your leg as still as you can.¡±
Pain? The crow¡¯s memory of the storm came back to him with nearly as much intensity as the storm itself, echoes of the searing pain in his leg that had led him to pass out drawing his attention to the damaged limb. The first thing he noticed was that he couldn¡¯t feel it, and after narrowly keeping from panicking as his Attunement confirmed that it was still attached, he probed that awareness further to assess the damage¡
¡°Wow. Are you a doctor?¡± The question left Ink-Talon¡¯s beak before he could stop himself. He opened his eyes to find himself laying on his right side in the shade of a tree, his left leg slightly elevated by a clump of moss and grass packed between it and his other leg. The leg itself was a mess, but one that had clearly been tended to. Clamped around the swelling and rows of small wounds from the snake¡¯s teeth was a splint made of two small bundles of sticks, bound in twine and bent wire.A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.
¡°No, I¡¯m not,¡± the snake answered, her tone feeling strange in a way the crow couldn¡¯t quite place.
¡°You cleaned and splinted my leg, and I¡¯m pretty sure you set the bone, since it¡¯s not crooked. If you aren¡¯t a doctor, then what are you?¡±
¡°I¡¯m a street medic.¡± Her odd manner coalesced into a solemn seriousness, without a hint of either the uncertainty she had before or the wrongness of her other half affecting her mannerisms. ¡°You know, patching people up at protests and stuff, where ambulances have a hard time getting in. Stabilizing injuries as much as I can with limited resources is what I do.¡±
¡°Still, this is-¡±
¡°Before you marvel at the craftsmanship, Gray did all the important parts, and the break was minor enough that it could be set with a little pressure while you were still out cold.¡± She slid up and examined the splint. ¡°Hard to tell for sure, but I think your hollow bones might have helped? My bite just kinda¡ cracked one side rather than splitting it all the way through. No idea how well it¡¯ll heal, though. I¡¯m even less of a veterinarian than I am a doctor.¡±
It was apparently mid-afternoon, and neither of them had much desire to talk about what came next when staying put was currently the only thing they could do, so they just went over the essentials of the situation.
According to his Attunement, the only thing keeping him from being in all sorts of agonizing pain at the moment was the fact that the wounds on his leg had basically marinated overnight in the tiny amount of rattlesnake venom that had leaked from the snake¡¯s fangs as she clenched her jaw, numbing and paralyzing the limb for the time being. It might have caused permanent nerve and tissue damage, too, but he wasn¡¯t about to bring that up.
Gray had learned to tie a crude overhand knot in order to make the splint, and had been spending most of the day repeating it with blades of grass to pass the time. Thankfully, the spot they were currently sheltering in had several berry bushes that could serve to feed the kit, so it hadn¡¯t needed to spend its day foraging again. They could also feed Ink-Talon himself in a pinch, but the bushes had already been partially picked through before they arrived and they would go through the whole supply very quickly with his appetite. To avoid that, the snake proposed an alternative.
¡°I figured that since crows are omnivores and can eat carrion just fine, I could hunt a few things for you. Pay back that first mouse with a mole or three.¡±
Ink-Talon stared at the bloody rodent carcass in front of him. It hadn¡¯t been a clean kill, since she had to refrain from using venom, but that didn¡¯t change the facts. He could eat this. In fact, it would be healthier for him to eat this than foraged plants. He would also be a massive hypocrite if he balked at eating this after encouraging the snake to do the same the day before. So he forced himself to do it, even as the sight of his own beak tearing off tiny chunks of flesh constantly reminded him of other acts of violence he¡¯d discovered himself to be capable of. The fact that he got a similar amount of satisfaction from fresh meat as he did from the beetles he loved back in Darksoil did not help matters.
¡°Thanks,¡± he croaked after finishing the meal, slumping back onto the improvised pile of moss and leaves he¡¯d been using to keep himself from laying flat on his back. ¡°I think we can safely consider ourselves even.¡±
¡°I try not to keep score, personally.¡±
¡°What, afraid that you¡¯ll lose?¡± The bird made a rare sound to signify his joke, one of those goofy gwaa noises that he remembered crows making from various ¡°cute animal¡± compilations over the years. His dignity had already hit rock bottom, he could afford to be a bit silly.
¡°No, I¡¯m afraid that I¡¯ll make you feel inadequate,¡± the snake hissed as she coiled back on herself in a loop to become her own pillow. Between his Attunement and the utter lack of human body language for the snake to work with, it was impossible to tell if she was participating in the joke or unaware of it. He decided to give her the benefit of the doubt.
¡°Possibly, but then I¡¯d need to introduce you to Quiet-Dream and Chase. Those two have been competing to be the Self-Sacrifice Champion of the World since we got here. Neither of us stand a chance against that kind of power.¡± Ink-Talon sighed. For the first time since arriving in this world, he was feeling properly homesick. Not for Earth, he¡¯d had so little going on in his life that he wasn¡¯t even sure if anyone would notice that he¡¯d gone missing. Darksoil certainly wasn¡¯t ¡°home,¡± either. But being with Quiet-Dream, Maggie, and the others had felt more like home to him than any physical location ever had been.
¡°Hey, can I ask you a personal question?¡± A gentle rattle of the snake¡¯s tail interrupted Ink-Talon¡¯s rumination.
¡°Go ahead.¡±
¡°What are you hoping to accomplish out here?¡±
¡°What?¡± The crow chirped, confused. ¡°I¡¯m trying to get help for my friends. I could have sworn I¡¯d said that¡¡±
¡°You did, but what does that mean? What does ¡®help¡¯ look like, in an ideal scenario?¡±
¡°It¡¯s¡ whatever I can get, I guess? Find a sympathetic ear? Someone who knows the right people to pressure the Guardians in Darksoil?¡±
¡°I said an ideal scenario. If everything could go as well as it possibly could, if you got exactly what you wanted with no downsides, what would you achieve?¡±
¡°Why does that matter? It¡¯s unrealistic, so it¡¯s not worth wasting effort on.¡±
¡°Do you remember the saying ¡®change yourself how you want to change the world?¡¯¡± The snake hissed in annoyance as all of the metaphor was unceremoniously stripped from the expression. ¡°If we want to change things, if we¡¯re unsatisfied with the status quo, we have to know what we want. We have to have ideals and goals. We have to demonstrate them within ourselves and push for them in their entirety. Even if it¡¯s unrealistic, if you try to achieve it and only succeed in a small part of it, then you have still made a positive difference in the world.¡±
¡°I¡ don¡¯t know, then. I just want everyone to be free and safe.¡± Ink-Talon stared up into the treetops. ¡°Not once since waking up in this world have I had any idea what I¡¯m doing. I only recently started taking things seriously, and the moment I did I just made mistake after mistake. If I try to be ambitious, I¡¯m going to make things worse.¡±
¡°Then I think you should spend your rest thinking about what you want.¡± The rattlesnake turned her head so that only one eye was looking at him. ¡°Because I¡¯ve figured out what I¡¯m going to do, and it¡¯s not going to be passively trying to survive. You should strive for more than the minimum, too.¡± And with that, she uncoiled and slithered off, going to check on Grey on the opposite side of the clearing.
It¡¯s like she¡¯s an entirely different person. What happened? Ink-Talon wondered before realizing his mistake. No, she was a medic at protests that often turned violent. She was an activist. If she¡¯s different, it¡¯s likely because she¡¯s recovered from the shock of all of this and remembered who she was.
So who am I, then?
He repeated the question over and over in his head. He¡¯d been worrying so much about not being ¡°himself¡± anymore, but he¡¯d never really defined who that was. And he didn¡¯t know. Everything he was doing, he was doing on someone else¡¯s behalf. Get Quiet-Dream his freedom, keep Gray safe, search for answers to the real Ink-Talon¡¯s questions. Everything he thought was his own desires and needs were just reflections of someone else¡¯s. But he wasn¡¯t them.
He was Ink-Talon, a crow with human perspectives. He was something new. He needed to figure out what that meant, for his own sake and everyone else¡¯s.
Chapter 43: Apprentice Quiet-Dream
¡°Are you prepared for your first day of proper duties?¡±
¡°I hope so.¡±
¡°Would you like me to test you before you go?¡±
¡°It wouldn¡¯t hurt. Go for it.¡±
Quiet-Dream had come to derive a great amount of comfort from the library in the College. He had never really been a curious or studious person, and he still wouldn¡¯t rightfully call himself one. Research was just not all that exciting to him. But what he lacked in academic interest he more than made up for in enjoyment of the work that went into maintaining the place.
Categorizing information, reading and summarizing documents, filing and sorting items. It was rote and straightforward while still requiring enough thought to prevent his mind from wandering. It was infinitely more effective at settling his nerves than the mindfulness meditation he¡¯d been trying to relearn before. As it turned out, squirrels were just too energetic and nervous by default for anything requiring him to sit still and calmly consider his thoughts to work as intended. The brain chemistry just wasn¡¯t compatible with the method.
¡°What is today¡¯s date?¡± Archivist Sharp-Search grunted the first question on its improvised quiz.
¡°Fifth day of Heavy Storms, 1386th Year of Understanding,¡± Quiet-Dream recited.
¡°Good,¡± Sharp-Search nodded. A big part of archival was, obviously, keeping track of dates, and Darksoil¡¯s calendar was as difficult to get used to as it was simplistic. The main trouble was that without a lunar cycle to suggest any regular intervals in a year it was based purely on seasons, with no regard for uniformity year-to-year.
A new year began on the first day of New Blooms, when the first flowers in the region began blooming in the equivalent of spring, and the days were counted and numbered until the seasonal weather took an obvious turn with the first day of Heavy Storms. This then repeated, using either the weather or local flora as indicators with equal prominence, for each of the other recognized seasons: Dry Winds, Ripened Fruits, Cold Rains, and Barren Fields. It seemed that snow rarely fell here, being much more common in the Highnests or far to the southwest, on the opposite side of the Lost Lands. It was straightforward and comprehensible, but like many forms of measurement in the Known World, it was frustratingly imprecise and unstandardized by human standards.
¡°What is your primary task today?¡± The porcupine¡¯s second question was either a freebie or a lead-in to the third. Quiet-Dream assumed the latter.
¡°I¡¯m going to attend a local Consensus on behalf of the library, record each question and outcome, and then return to file the results in their appropriate place.¡±
¡°And beyond that, what is the most important thing you must do as part of your duties?¡±
¡°Beyond that? I¡¡±
Despite expecting a tougher question, the squirrel was still completely blindsided by this one. He was certain that he had recalled all of an Archivist¡¯s duties in this area, at least as Sharp-Search had explained them. He wasn¡¯t going to be acting as a Scribe like Swift-Paw, so he didn¡¯t need to keep an exact transcript of the proceedings, just record the matters being decided on and the tally of each vote.
But what if it¡¯s something I must not do? What would be more important to refrain from doing than completing the task itself? Only one thing came to mind, so he answered as best he could. ¡°I must¡ refrain from expressing any thoughts or opinions on the Consensus, even if I disagree with the results?¡± He was not at all confident in the answer, but it was the best he had.
¡°Excellent!¡± Sharp-Search reared up and squeaked with delight. ¡°I was expecting to have to teach you that lesson directly, but you intuited it on your own! In matters of Consensus, an Archivist is merely a witness of history. To express an opinion risks influencing the results, and when you are not subject to the Consensus itself, that causes irreparable harm to the integrity of the entire process.¡± The porcupine affectionately placed a forepaw on Quiet-Dream¡¯s head. ¡°This was important enough that I would not be allowing you to do this if you did not properly internalize it. You have earned my full trust in this, Apprentice Quiet-Dream.¡±
The role attached to the front of the squirrel¡¯s name echoed in his head, and his breath hitched briefly as he tried to wrangle his emotions. It was the first time he had been formally referred to as such, and he was far more affected by it than he¡¯d anticipated. Before now, he¡¯d thought of it as a simple formality, but in this moment he Understood exactly what was meant by it. It meant that Sharp-Search recognized and affirmed the purpose he had chosen for himself. That he wished to learn and become more capable. That he wished to help and facilitate those around him as a means of improving himself. It was real, acknowledged, and accepted. And by proxy, so was he.
¡°Thank you!¡± Quiet-Dream let out a mewling cry as he lunged forward, embracing the Archivist as best he could. For once he was thankful that his front legs were far too short to reach all of the way around most other people. He¡¯d almost certainly have gotten a quill or three stuck in him otherwise.
¡°Oh!¡± The porcupine froze for several seconds, unable to properly respond to the gesture. ¡°This is¡ genuinely important to you. More important than I had assumed.¡± They returned the gesture, awkwardly embracing the squirrel with their own forelegs, having seen the alien gesture enough times over the last few weeks to figure out that returning it was appropriate. ¡°How long do you plan on continuing this? Arbitrators resent being made to wait, and unfortunately I am the one they will direct that resentment towards.¡±
¡°Right, of course. Sorry.¡± Quiet-Dream sheepishly let go and dropped back on all fours. Never change, Archivist.
Guardian Golden-Streak had been assigned as his escort for the day, something that seemed way more awkward for the leopard than it was for him, and it was already extremely awkward for him. They had seemed genuinely remorseful about what had happened to Ink-Talon in their brief interactions after the crow¡¯s ¡°treatment.¡± Not enough to make them any more trustworthy than any of their other jailers, but it was better than nothing. Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.
After Ink-Talon¡¯s escape, however, Golden-Streak¡¯s entire attitude had shifted. Now, they were being assigned to more menial duties far more frequently, and were constantly anxious and on-edge during all of them. The Guardian barely wanted to look at any of the remaining humans, much less speak with them, as if showing them even the smallest modicum of acknowledgement would bring down the wrath of a vengeful god.
¡°Okay, I¡¯m ready to go,¡± Quiet-Dream squeaked upon exiting the library, causing Golden-Streak to flinch as they suppressed what would have been a more startled response. ¡°Lead the way.¡±
¡°No. You will be in front, I will be giving you directions,¡± the Guardian growled. ¡°We will be traveling through crowded areas, and you are not to leave my sight. If we are separated, call out for me and remain where you are. Do not attempt to navigate without me or another Guardian, even if it means declining an offer of assistance from a member of the public. Do you Understand?¡±
¡°Perfectly.¡± Quiet-Dream responded to the draconian instructions with a growl of his own, albeit one incapable of being remotely intimidating. He had figured that they were going to make this difficult. He was going to bear it without complaint. He wouldn¡¯t give them the satisfaction of catching him falter. ¡°Which exit?¡±
¡°Duskward.¡±
¡°Got it.¡±
The guardian was right about things being crowded outside. During Heavy Storms, it seemed to rain more days than not, so a clear day like this sent people scrambling to get their business done while they still could. Carts and hooves clattered up and down the damp brick streets, thankfully free from puddles due to exceptional drainage, while the ropes and planks above creaked and shook from the foot traffic of smaller creatures, occasionally dripping as the waterlogged material was jostled. Quiet-Dream sincerely wished he could be traveling up there, even if he wasn¡¯t all that confident in his ability to keep his footing. But Golden-Streak wasn¡¯t about to allow that.
¡°How am I supposed to get through this?¡± the squirrel squealed, doing his best to be heard over the noise. ¡°I¡¯m going to be crushed!¡±
¡°I will¡ warn people to stay clear.¡±
¡°With me out in front? They¡¯ll avoid you, not the rodent colored nearly the same as the pavement!¡±
¡°Fine!¡± Golden-Streak snapped, bending over and picking Quiet-Dream up in their jaws like a kitten. ¡°There. Hold still and you will be fine.¡±
Oh, so this is what it feels like. The fact that he had done this exact thing with Black-Leap and Gray many times during their first week here was the first thought that came to mind. The second was that this was ridiculous. ¡°Can¡¯t I just ride on your back?¡±
¡°No, you could easily jump off and attempt to escape.¡± The leopard¡¯s rumbling growl came out comically muffled by Quiet-Dream¡¯s body, but that only slightly damped the raw terror that came from having the sound literally reverberating in his bones. He was fairly certain that if he were a natural-born squirrel with proper instincts, this would be the single most terrifying thing he¡¯d ever experienced in his life. As things stood, though, it could maybe manage a distant third. Nothing was dethroning his first moments in this body any time soon. And just below that¡
¡°Hey! Careful!¡± Quiet-Dream chirped in distress as Golden-Streak unexpectedly bounded forward, jostling his limp body against their fangs far more than he was expecting.. ¡°Your teeth are built to eat me, remember?¡±
¡°I said to hold still! Do not let yourself be so limp!¡±
The squirrel did as he was instructed, tensing up as best he could. It did indeed manage to keep him from flopping around like a wet noodle, but he could tell he was going to be sore at the end of this, and then they¡¯d have to do it all again on the way back.
The Consensus he¡¯d been called to witness was a small one, settling a dispute between a Crafter and two of their patrons. This placed it under the Arbitrator of the Crafters¡¯ Quarter¡¯s jurisdiction, where most of the work had taken place. Arbitrator Completed-Day was a reserved and even-tempered beaver, according to Sharp-Search, and Maggie had described them as respectful but distinctly unfriendly when she had petitioned them for their own Consensus. The creature Quiet-Dream encountered at their destination, however, looked like they were about to scream.
Completed-Day stood glaring at the three arguing creatures in front of them, a white-feathered flamingo, a boar, and large, gray-furred rat, the sheltered pavilion the Consensus was being held in echoing with their squeaks, growls, and grunts. Their mood only seemed to worsen as Quiet-Dream and Golden-Streak approached, with the squirrel thankfully having been able to arrive on his own feet to spare his dignity.
¡°If you do not have business with this Consensus, please leave. There have been far too many disruptions already today.¡± The beaver huffed and slapped the stone floor with their tail, drawing the attention of the quarreling participants for a moment.
¡°I am Apprentice Quiet-Dream, here to witness the Consensus on behalf of Archivist Sharp-Search and the College of the Beacon,¡± Quiet-Dream recited, which only caused the beaver to narrow their eyes.
¡°And who are you?¡± they asked, looking up at Golden-Streak.
¡°Guardian Golden-Streak. I am the Apprentice¡¯s assigned escort for the day.¡±
This seemed to set off a few murmurs between the others present.
¡°A Guardian escort? Why would an Apprentice of all people need one?¡±
¡°The Arbitrator is clearly displeased. Was it expecting someone else?¡±
¡°Wait, I think that might be¨C¡±
¡°Stop.¡± Another slap of their tail quieted the trio. ¡°You are here to settle your dispute, not gossip amongst yourselves.¡± The Arbitrator paused and took a deep breath, a rather familiar anxiety readable in their stance. ¡°Now that a proper witness is present, are there any declarations or requests before we begin?¡±
Quiet-Dream had immediately withdrawn his paper and marking tools from the satchel Sharp-Search had provided, setting them on the ground in front of him and preparing to take notes. His appearance had clearly made things even worse for the already exasperated beaver, and he resolved to be as unobtrusive as possible.
¡°I have a request!¡± The rat leapt forward, much to the annoyance of everyone else.
¡°Express yourself, Crafter Blended-Technique.¡±
¡°I would like to request that the opinion of an expert advisor be considered in this Consensus.¡±
¡°Stop trying to stall, Crafter. An advisor must be present prior to the start of proceedings. You had plenty of time already to search for one.¡±
¡°But one is present!¡± The rat jumped in place and then turned their gaze on Quiet-Dream, its eyes shining with a sort of determined desperation that he had only ever seen Ink-Talon express prior to this. ¡°I call upon the expertise of Apprentice Quiet-Dream as a being with vast knowledge from another world!¡±
Everyone froze as all eyes fell upon the squirrel, the only sounds he could hear from anyone being his own rapidly accelerating heartbeat and panicked breathing. They were looking at him to respond. He had to say something. Anything.
¡°What?¡±
Anything but that¡
Chapter 44: Prophet Motive
Apprentice Quiet-Dream stared at the incredibly satisfied looking rat in front of him, unable to comprehend what they were even trying to do. They had correctly identified his background, but calling upon him to testify as an expert? What did they think he was?
Seemingly sharing that confusion, and recognizing that Quiet-Dream was not experienced enough to deflect the request himself, Arbitrator Completed-Day immediately stepped in.
¡°Explain yourself, Crafter. Exactly what kind of expert do you believe the Apprentice to be?¡±
¡°I know that it is one of the ¡®afflicted¡¯ being held by the Guardians. It needed an escort to attend, and it shares a name with one mentioned in the newly published observations!¡± Blended-Technique expressed the ¡°afflicted¡± label with clear skepticism, but it was that last part that demanded elaboration.
¡°Published observations?¡± Quiet-Dream asked, tilting his head. Both the Guardian Golden-Streak and the Arbitrator looked away, unwilling to answer and unable to meet his gaze. Crafter Blended-Technique, however, was more than happy to explain.
¡°Yes! Copies of observations recorded by Scribe Swift-Paw during your quarantine have been widely circulated recently! You know about so many unique things!¡±
¡°Unauthorized and unverified copies,¡± Golden-Streak growled, causing the rat to flinch. ¡°They have been denounced and recalled.¡±
¡°They were, however¡¡± The Crafter stood their ground, regaining their composure in the face of the leopard. ¡°I made use of the public records in the library to prepare for this Consensus, and it was there! The original notes, completely identical to the copies!¡± The Arbitrator seemed like they were about to object, but Blended-Technique raised a paw, stopping them so they could finish. ¡°And there was another record there as well. One created by the former Scholar Ink-Talon, with the assistance of Quiet-Dream. One analyzing and recognizing the Beacon¡¯s Insight as knowledge from their own world!¡± The rat was truly frantic now, their tiny body buzzing with pent-up excitement as they bounced in place. ¡°It has knowledge of craft and inventions never before seen in the Known World! It Understands the Beacon¡¯s Insight natively! What better expert could there be?¡±
The Crafter¡¯s flurry of expressions ended with an overjoyed squeal that echoed through the stonework around them, the final declaration having stunned everyone, even the Guardian. Once more, all eyes fell upon Quiet-Dream.
¡°I¡ I don¡¯t¡¡± He only managed to chirp out a fragmented thought as his head swam with everything he¡¯d just been told. Someone had been distributing Scribe Swift-Paw¡¯s observations of him. The ones she had made after teaching him how to groom himself. And rather than demonstrate just how pitiable he had been at the time, it had somehow convinced this person that he was something else. Something tied into their religious or spiritual beliefs. Something he very much did not want to be.
¡°Apprentice.¡± The webbed forepaw of the Arbitrator nearly made him jump out of his fur when it gently touched his shoulder. ¡°I need to know before we continue. Is any of what Blended-Technique claims true?¡±
¡°No! It¡¯s¡¡± Quiet-Dream¡¯s objections died in his throat as he considered what arguments he even had. The grounds for his ¡°qualification¡± was his knowledge of human technologies and achievements. It wasn¡¯t detailed or even well-informed knowledge, but it was knowledge that no one native to this world possessed. ¡°It¡¯s not untrue, I know of many things,¡± he stated truthfully. Lying my way out of this isn¡¯t an option. I¡¯m not Ink-Talon. Trying to push the lingering bitter thoughts about his missing friend aside, he took a deep breath and did his best to salvage the situation. ¡°I wasn¡¯t a Crafter myself, though. I only have passing familiarity with the knowledge they¡¯re interested in.¡±
¡°Unfortunately, that is enough to fulfill its request for an advisory opinion. I ask that you give your opinion as truthfully as you can when prompted, as awkward as that may be for someone in your role.¡± Completed-Day seemed genuinely sympathetic, despite their insistence. ¡°This is a strange situation, but I cannot allow you to decline this request without setting a disruptive precedent for future Consensuses.¡±
The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
¡°And what would the consequences be for¡ noncooperation?¡± Quiet-Dream asked the question with a pleading gaze, but all the Arbitrator could do was sigh.
¡°You would be barred from participation in any future Consensus, even one that directly concerns you.¡± The implications behind the statement were as clear as the beaver could make them. He would be barred from the very Consensus Maggie was petitioning for, unable to testify or plead their case. It would almost certainly be used against everyone else, too. Avoiding momentary discomfort was not remotely worth such a cost.
¡°Right. Got it. I¡¯ll contribute to the best of my ability.¡±
Quiet-Dream took a deep breath, grasped his stylus in two, trembling paws, and steeled himself for what was to come.
By the time the proceedings had wrapped up, the first drops of another rainstorm were beginning to fall. But Quiet-Dream decided to stand out in it anyway. He needed space from¡ whatever all that had been.
The dispute being decided upon had been as petty and simple as could be. Crafter Blended-Technique had overpromised on custom furnishings, splitting materials between two clients and delivering dangerous, compromised work. This was not in dispute, as the Crafter themselves had admitted fault. The first Matter of Consensus had been a unanimous confirmation of the Crafter¡¯s liability.
It was the second matter, that of due compensation, where the rat¡¯s angle became clear. There were three potential outcomes to the question, not counting minor variations and quantities. They could be temporarily stripped of their role, unable to practice their Craft in Darksoil for a period of time. They could be forgiven, with the caveat that any repeat offenses would carry far harsher penalties. Or they could be partnered with a volunteer Crafter for supervision and fulfil their original promises, along with additional services. That final option had been what Blended-Technique wanted, and they spent the entirety of their arguments asking for Quiet-Dream¡¯s opinion on the hypothetical viability of various design concepts, or asking if he had any knowledge of human construction accomplishing those same goals.
They were hoping that his agreement that such things were hypothetically possible would be appealing enough to convince the others to let them try. That his knowledge as an ¡°Other-Worlder,¡± as they put it, would carry so much weight that they could escape consequences for overpromising by promising even more.
And to his horror, it had actually worked.
The flamingo and boar had both agreed to one of the Crafter¡¯s proposals, enthusiastically, even. And whether or not Quiet-Dream believed that this was remotely a good idea was not a question he had been asked. He wanted to scream about how stupid the idea was, how someone so reckless should not have been trusted with creating unproven concepts on the basis of¡ faith. Faith in humanity as some higher power that would uplift them all to grander heights. It made him feel sick just thinking about it. But he couldn¡¯t interfere.
Not just because Sharp-Search had emphasized that he must accept the outcome of the Consensus and not voice his opinions on it, but also because any attempt to put a paw down and assert authority on the topic would only deepen this belief that he and the others were¡ Divine. Holy. Greater. He couldn¡¯t wield authority in order to claim not to be an authority. All he could do is wait for them to fail and then weather the backlash.
¡°You should not be standing in the rain. Creatures your size become too cold too quickly.¡± Guardian Golden-Streak approached as silently as ever, their own thick fur being far better suited for the damp.
¡°You sure you don¡¯t want me to get sick?¡± Quiet-Dream squeaked bitterly, staring out across the rain-shrouded street as the day¡¯s last stragglers scrambled for shelter. At his size, the sight was more like a moving forest, long and tall trunk-like legs and boulder-like wheels, all flying by and scattering the water flowing on the stones in their wake. ¡°Being confined to bed would make your job easier, and I know you¡¯d love it if I just got sick and-¡±
¡°No.¡± Golden-Streak¡¯s growl pierced the soft patter of rain, not with a threat, but with a rejection. ¡°I know why you must think that, but no.¡±
¡°Why?¡±
¡°Which reason would you prefer? That my assignment is to protect you on this trip? That, as a Guardian, my duty is to prevent the deaths of others? That Scholar Ink-Talon is a dear friend of mine, and I refuse to cause it any more pain than I already have?¡± The leopard laid down next to Quiet-Dream in the rain, turning their head to look him in the eyes. ¡°That I have been watching you and the others like you struggle all this time without posing anything approaching a threat to anyone? Pick any of those. They are all equally true.¡±
¡°We do pose a threat, though,¡± the Apprentice shivered, meeting the Guardian¡¯s gaze. ¡°You just saw it happen. Simply by existing and being who we are, people are deciding that we are far more than we¡¯ve claimed. That we¡¯re divine messengers or prophets or gods or who knows what else. It¡¯s dangerous, and it doesn¡¯t matter if I want to cause harm or not. If enough people come to these false conclusions, then harm is going to be done in our name.¡±
¡°That is not a problem for you to worry about, Apprentice. Others are to blame for this, and they are the ones who will face judgement for it.¡± Golden-Streak¡¯s growls deepened. That was a threat, not towards him, but towards this yet-unknown party. ¡°I am going to take you back now.¡±
Before Quiet-Dream could properly process the statement, Golden-Streak had once more picked him up in their mouth and set off for ¡°home,¡± this time moving much slower and keeping their head low to shield him from as much of the rain as possible. And he really appreciated it, because it let him ponder what the Guardian had clearly also realized.
Someone was distributing writing about him and the others. Someone with an agenda. But¡ was framing them all as divine beings really the intent? He hadn¡¯t read Swift-Paw¡¯s notes on them all, but he seriously doubted that she would have written anything suggesting that. Did they just want an informed perspective out there, so that the public would come to their own conclusions? Or were they aiming to spark a conflict of some sort, posing us more directly in opposition to the Guardians than we already were?
Whatever it was, he knew that he had become a piece in some sort of game. And he knew what he had to do. He was going to find out exactly what game was being played, and who the players were.
And then, if he had to, he¡¯d flip the table to make them stop.
Chapter 45: Roundtable
¡°So, why exactly are we here?¡± Lead Scholar Delving-Thought clicked its beak as it looked over the four other assembled creatures with a passing interest. The meeting room was well-lit, and the central table was small enough that everyone had a clear view of everyone else. The cockatoo had been traveling and coordinating field studies since the last Cold Rains, and would much rather have continued to do that than be called back for administrative duties in Darksoil. However, it had already learned a multitude of important things in preparation for this meeting, things extremely pertinent to its current area of study. Overall, it had been a worthwhile journey, but that didn¡¯t make this part of it any less boring.
¡°To discuss the treatment and care of the afflicted, I believe?¡± Lead Arbitrator Thorough-Gaze tapped a large, partially-webbed foot on the floor. ¡°Something about expressing grievances, as well.¡± The elder heron had clearly seen better days. It was molting rather irregularly, leaving it without a functional set of flight feathers, and its long legs looked to be somewhat inflamed around the joints. It would doubtless need to retire soon, just as the former Lead Seeker and Lead Physician recently had.
¡°It is more than a simple grievance, Arbitrator!¡± An agitated bark drew the Scholar¡¯s attention before it could think much more about the heron. ¡°I was recently informed that Seekers are being removed from monitoring and escort duties for the afflicted, even those who volunteer! Not only is it deeply disrespectful to be denied from the duties our role is best suited for, but it is outright irresponsible! I demand an explanation!¡± Lead Seeker Painted-Trace, as always, was ravenous for details and context, looking to engage in conversation about anything it could. The spotted canine no doubt made excellent use of these traits in its duties, though Delving-Thought suspected that they would work to its detriment in this case.
¡°Irresponsible?¡± An impeccably calm, yet just subtly mocking grunt signaled Lead Guardian Rooted-Place¡¯s entry into the conversation. ¡°Please explain, Lead Seeker. I am curious why you think that is.¡±
There it was, the tortoise¡¯s practiced rhetoric. Delving-Thought had been Lead Scholar for over forty years, and in that time it had seen the tactic again and again. When faced with an accusation or objection, it would simply repeat it back as a question and ask for more detail. It aimed to defeat the opponent¡¯s argument using as little conjecture as possible, giving as few details as possible. Give them nothing to form an argument with other than what they have already prepared, and then debate the accuracy of their statements rather than your own. Simple, safe, effective.
¡°The role of a Guardian is to protect, and making their escorts exclusively protective implies one of two things to the general public. Either that they are themselves dangerous, and that the Guardian is there to protect the public from them¡±¡ªBoth Rooted-Place and the Lead Arbitrator nodded in agreement¡ª¡±Or that they are important enough to need protection from the public. That they are special in much the same way a Diplomat from a neighboring region might be. And lacking evidence to prove the former, rumors and speculation have begun to suggest the latter.¡±
The room fell silent at that, but Rooted-Place¡¯s calm confidence did not waver.
¡°Either of those outlooks are fine,¡± The tortoise tapped the table. ¡°If members of the public wish to believe false rumors, then they are free to do so. They will be disproven in time.¡±
¡°You still have not given me an explanation for your decision. One you made without consulting me, despite our joint mandate.¡±
The discussion went on like this for a while, and Delving-Thought couldn¡¯t keep itself from yawning, flaring the yellow-tinged crest of feathers on its head as it did. It was a foregone conclusion, not worth paying attention to. No, the person the Lead Scholar was far more interested in was the only person in the room to have been silent the entire time. Lead Physician Pensive-Pace was surprisingly unexpressive compared to its predecessor, keeping up a front of distant professionalism at all times. However, it was just that, a front. One that the Lead Scholar had no difficulty piercing.
At the mention of the afflicted being dangerous, its left paw almost clenched. It disagrees. When the topic of the escaped Ink-Talon and the injured Guardian is broached, its ears twitched in unison. It is conflicted. When Rooted-Place expressed a desire to further restrict their movements, its haunches briefly tensed. It is angered, believing that to be harmful to their health. When the behavior of a certain Seeker is¡ª Oh! This is new information. I should pay attention¡
¡°Furthermore, I have been informed that one of your Seekers had been abusing the volunteer system to fraternize with the afflicted rather than monitor them.¡± The Lead Guardian scraped a foot across the table, its blunted and polished claws rumbling across its imperfections without leaving a scratch. ¡°Its irresponsible romantic aspirations leave it unfit for these duties, and I would prefer not to have a security risk be socializing with them at all.¡±This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.
¡°Understood, I will talk to it.¡± The dog lowered its head, defeated. It apparently knew exactly which Seeker was being referred to.
Romantic entanglement with the afflicted? Delving-Thought¡¯s curiosity was truly piqued, and it once more became lost in its own musings. It would have insights into their habits and behaviors that others lack. Know secrets they hold close. The Scholar added this unknown Seeker to its list of prime interview subjects and resumed paying attention to proceedings. Not a moment too soon, either.
¡°...which is why I have asked Lead Scholar Delving-Thought to return and deliver its findings in person. Thank you for coming, old friend.¡±
¡°Of course,¡± the cockatoo nodded. It had always found that term of endearment odd, coming from Rooted-Place. It was just barely more than half as old as the tortoise, after all. But Delving-Thought was indeed its oldest friend. And perhaps its only friend, unless it made a new one recently¡
¡°And those findings are¡?¡± Pensive-Pace expressed itself for the first time, snorting to get the Scholar¡¯s attention.
¡°Answers.¡± Delving-Thought simply continued, refusing to outwardly acknowledge its own lapse in focus. ¡°As a Scholar, I have always focused my studies on the intricacies of the Gift of Understanding itself, and this affliction presents incredibly novel opportunities for study, lending credence to several previously unverifiable theories. However, these opportunities presented are entirely moot if we do not first have a means to mitigate the dangers presented, that primarily being the fact that each case of the affliction results in the loss of the victim¡¯s identity, memories, and instincts.¡±
¡°I have confirmed through every available method that their affliction is not contagious, or even tied to any physical mechanism in the body,¡± the Lead Physician stated, raising a paw to interject. ¡°What further danger does it pose? Potential for erratic behavior aside.¡± It glanced at Rooted-Place as it expressed the final part.
¡°The afflictions of the existing victims? None at all. The original cause of their condition, however, may pose an incredible danger, especially to those investigating it. This is why I have prioritized finding a way to reverse the condition before whatever has happened to them happens again.¡±
¡°Such as the failed treatment that I was not informed of until one of the afflicted was brought to me with multiple injuries, possible lead poisoning, and severe exhaustion?¡± The wombat squinted at Delving-Thought. It had taken that initial experiment incredibly personally, and for good reason, if that was the result.
¡°No. I am referring to the successful treatment that you were not informed of.¡± The correction only made the wombat angrier, but Delving-Thought refused to let the implication that its theories had been incorrect stand. ¡°You see, in the time since that incident, I managed to acquire the assistance of those with experience in the matter, two of the afflicted themselves.¡±
¡°I was not informed of more victims being identified.¡± This time, it was Rooted-Place¡¯s turn to be annoyed. ¡°Why were they not brought here?¡±
¡°Because they are freshwater fish. They could not leave the lake they were born in without incredible risk to their lives, one only further complicated by their poor health resulting from the stress the affliction put on its mind and body. Therefore, when I offered them the potential of a cure, they readily consented.¡±
¡°That was¡ prudent, actually,¡± the Lead Physician tilted its head in surprise. ¡°Prolonged or repeated stressors can be deadly to many aquatic creatures. I cannot imagine they would have survived long if their minds were struggling to adapt to their bodies. I have treated a few such cases already.¡±
¡°Indeed. And with their help, I was able to repeat the experiment that was conducted with Scholar Ink-Talon. This time, it was successful.¡±
¡°Does that mean the first attempt was performed incorrectly?¡± Painted-Trace asked.
¡°Aside from the apparent rough treatment of the subject and unsafe construction of the barrier chamber? No.¡± Delving-Thought shot Rooted-Place a concerned look. If what Pensive-Pace had accused the first experiment of was true, then the Lead Guardian had clearly rushed preparations with the bare minimum of requirements. It had never once rushed preparing for something in the decades they had known each other. Something was wrong. ¡°Because after their proper minds regained their senses, they informed me that they had both conversed with their afflicted minds during transience. That they were each two separate entities inhabiting the same form, and that in order for one to regain control of its body, both minds had to come to an agreement. This is far more complicated of a problem than we initially believed.¡±
¡°Are you implying that Scholar Ink-Talon willingly relinquished its body to this¡ alien?¡± Rooted-Place shifted its weight onto its front legs, causing the table to audibly creak. Multiple statements of rage, hatred, and confusion were being considered by the tortoise, Delving-Thought could see it clearly in its stance. Even if it managed to refrain from outright expressing them, the Scholar had never seen the Guardian react this way to anything before. It knew something everyone else did not. Something that was causing it to behave rashly. Something that Delving-Thought would need to confront it about soon.
¡°Yes, I am. And my recommended approach to their treatment has shifted accordingly. The chances of a forced or coerced treatment being successful are unacceptably low.¡±
¡°Could it have taken Ink-Talon¡¯s body by force, then?¡± Painted-Trace proposed with a nervous whimper, clearly sensing the tension in the conversation even if it could not pick out the details like the Scholar could. ¡°Scholar, do you know what happens if both minds do not agree?¡±
The cockatoo''s crest drooped and it fell silent, though not because it did not know the answer. One of the subjects had changed its mind during transience, fighting its original, and the resulting consciousness¡
¡°I do not think you want to know.¡±
Chapter 46: Interrogation
¡°Apprentice Quiet-Dream, your presence is required.¡± A quick bark announced the arrival of the coyote Guardian at the edge of the courtyard, where the squirrel and several other humans were lounging beneath one of the awnings mounted along its walls. Heavy Storms continued to live up to its name, rendering the courtyard a drenched swamp that was horrible to navigate for everyone present outside of Song and Garden-Blessing, who were quite at home in the mud and water for obvious reasons. But the fresh air and sound of rain on canvas was still relaxing.
¡°Welp, looks like it¡¯s your turn,¡± Maggie said, giving Quiet-Dream a head-tilt and a sidelong glance intended to read as a playful smirk. Everyone was being called back for ¡®scientific questioning¡¯ at some point that day, and Maggie had recently returned from her interview. ¡°Don¡¯t worry too much about it, it¡¯s just an interrogation with a bunch of very pointed, very personal questions!¡±
¡°That, but without the sarcasm,¡± Garden-Blessing placed a supportive claw on his back. ¡°You will do fine, little squirrel. It wasn¡¯t that harrowing.¡±
¡°Right.¡± Quiet-Dream stood up and stretched before turning to the kit that had been snuggled up against his left side. ¡°Wait here with the others, Black-Leap. This shouldn¡¯t take long.¡±
¡°Okay¡¡±
¡°Actually,¡± the coyote huffed, just loud enough to interject. ¡°I was instructed to have you bring your kit as well.¡±
¡°Oh.¡±
¡°Oh!¡± The kit squeaked and bounced, far more excited by the idea than he was. ¡°I¡¯m always left behind when important things happen! Now I get to go!¡±
¡°Nah, it just means that this isn¡¯t important,¡± Maggie teased, preempting a groan from Quiet-Dream with a wink.
¡°What? No!¡±
¡°Sorry, kid. I don¡¯t make the rules.¡±
¡°She¡¯s just trying to rile you up, Black-Leap,¡± Quiet-Dream chirped, nudging the kit back towards the door with his head. ¡°We shouldn¡¯t keep the Guardian waiting, they¡¯re annoyed enough as it is.¡± For perhaps the first time, the coyote gave him a look approaching appreciation for hurrying things along.
¡°I know, but she enjoys when I react,¡± the kit responded, scampering forward a few steps before turning back. ¡°It¡¯s nice.¡±
¡°Wait. She was¡ just humoring me?¡± Maggie began muttering to herself, taken aback by the revelation. ¡°The whole time? If she can Understand that I¡¯m joking, how am I supposed to¡¡±
The elder squirrel sighed and shooed Black-Leap inside, leaving a very bemused myna bird to be consoled by a large crab. Such was his life now.
The room the interview was to be held in wasn¡¯t that far from the library. In fact, he had passed by it plenty of times. However, since the last time he had gone in this direction, a proper, solid door had been installed, albeit not as heavy as the one on the library, with much thinner wood and some rumpled linen padding attached to the inside. Less climate control, more noise canceling, if he had to take a guess.
¡°You may leave them here and wait outside, Guardian,¡± a simultaneously loud and emotionally subdued squawk sounded from inside the room, and the coyote silently ushered the two of them inside and pushed the door closed behind them. The room was mostly empty, with a few cushions arranged on the floor and a writing wedge slid out from the wall where various bits of office furnishings had been stacked. The scent of dust hung heavy in the air, confirming that this space had sat unused for some time. Opposite them, behind the writing setup, was a sulfur-crested cockatoo, eyeing them with an intense curiosity. ¡°Please make yourselves comfortable.¡± They gestured to two of the cushions in front of them.
Black-Leap eagerly scampered up and belly-flopped onto the rightmost pillow, while Quiet-Dream carefully approached the other one, watching the interviewer for any signs of displeasure with the kit¡¯s behavior. Thankfully, there were none. Instead, the bird seemed to be lost in thought, its gaze having lost focus in the last few seconds.
¡°Are you okay?¡± Black-Leap chittered, earning a swift swat from her parent¡¯s tail. If the question bothered the cockatoo, or if they even heard it, they didn¡¯t show it. Instead, they looked right at him, opened their beak, and spoke.
¡°You¡¯re. Quiet-Dream. Right?¡± The bird squawked out in stilted, choppy, but perfectly recognizable English.
¡°...Yes,¡± the squirrel nodded, staring at the bird in baffled silence.
¡°Judging by your reaction, I expressed that correctly?¡± They tilted their head and adjusted their wings, returning to ¡°normal¡± means of expression. ¡°I only have the myna¡¯s vocalizations in its interview as a point of reference, but I believe I copied the appropriate sounds well enough. Replicating the natural flow of one sound to another is far more intricate, though.¡±
¡°Maybe Maggie could teach you!¡± Black-Leap spoke up, thankfully breaking the tension and buying Quiet-Dream time to formulate a response.If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.
¡°Perhaps, but that is a topic for another time. Right now, proper introductions are in order. I am Lead Scholar Delving-Thought, and I am studying your condition. I hope to discover its true nature.¡±
¡°So¡ you believe us, then?¡± Hope briefly sparked in the gray squirrel¡¯s mind. He had seen the Lead Scholar¡¯s name no shortage of times in the library, and Sharp-Search¡¯s few off-paw mentions of them had been positive. ¡°You don¡¯t think we¡¯re¡ delusional?¡±
¡°I believe that you, Apprentice Quiet-Dream, are a separate entity from Forager Keen-Ear. How sound of mind you may or may not be is an unrelated question.¡±
¡°That¡¯s¡ an improvement?¡±
¡°He¡¯s very stressed and anxious,¡± Black-Leap remarked unhelpfully. ¡°But we¡¯re all doing our best!¡±
¡°...Yeah.¡± Quiet-Dream sighed. The kit was basically repeating back a combination of excuse and encouragement that he had given her a few days ago, so he had no one to blame here but himself.
¡°I am sure you are.¡± Delving-Thought nodded at the kit before picking up their writing implement with their beak. It was one of their own feathers, dipped in ink at the end like a brush rather than at the base like a pen. ¡°To begin the interview in earnest, I would like you to give an account of the beginning of your time in this body.¡±
¡°Well, I woke up in the woods in a different body, which I¡¯m sure you¡¯ve heard a lot today. Ink-Talon was there with me, and when we got our bearings, we-¡±
¡°Stop. Go back. What was ¡®waking up¡¯ like? What did you experience? What did you think?¡±
¡°Oh.¡± No one had ever asked about his experiences before. He and the other humans never really talked about it unless they realized that they differed in a noticeable way, at least not since he¡¯d vented his frustrations to Ink-Talon weeks ago in that wagon. The natives had never shown much interest either, since the concerns of what happened and how were far more pressing.
¡°Is something wrong?¡±
¡°No, just¡ preparing myself.¡± Those initial moments of squirrel-dom weren¡¯t something he liked dwelling on. In fact, he¡¯d done his best not to even think about them in any detail since that first night. But he needed to put it into words. He needed to dig up that pain so he could explain it to the first person to show genuine interest in Understanding it, no matter how much it hurt.
¡°The first thing I experienced was every sense I had screaming at me. Not from Understanding any of them, but because most of them are far more detailed and sensitive than what my original body had. Sounds were louder and higher pitches were audible. Every scent was clearly distinguished from every other scent. The feeling of the breeze in my fur immediately outlined the shape of my body and all of the ways it was¡ wrong.¡± The fabric of the pillow beneath him rippled as he tightened his grip with all 4 paws.
¡°Take your time, this is clearly-¡±
¡°Everything was wrong. It still is wrong. But right then at the start I had no idea what was going on and that made it worse. My senses were telling me horrific, impossible things, and I couldn¡¯t stop it. I couldn¡¯t stop¡ª¡±
¡°Mom!¡± Something small and furry slammed into his right side, jostling the larger squirrel from the mental spiral he¡¯d trapped himself in. ¡°You were stuck in bad thoughts.¡±
¡°Thank you¡¡± Quiet-Dream squeaked out. His breathing was fast and shallow, and his tiny heart was hammering away like a machine gun in his chest. Every human instinct screamed that he was about to die, but he knew that this was just a moderately elevated heart rate for a squirrel. He was safe. But he just didn¡¯t feel safe. Reality had no bearing on the power of pure panic. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Scholar. I shouldn¡¯t have¡¡± The squirrel trailed off as he finally calmed down enough to look at his interviewer. The bird was just staring at nothing again. ¡°...Scholar?¡± He waved a forepaw in the air.
¡°Apologies, that was a lot to take in.¡± The Scholar began rapidly swiping their feather-brush across the page in front of them in short, considered strokes, frequently pausing to dip it in a nearby inkwell.
¡°You¡¯re Attuned, aren¡¯t you?¡± Quiet-Dream chittered without thinking, still on-edge.
¡°And what prompted that conclusion?¡± Rather than take offense, Delving-Thought turned it into another question, tilting their head and raising the rest on their head a little bit as they awaited an answer.
¡°This is the second time in this conversation you¡¯ve just¡ gotten lost. In exactly the same way that I¡¯ve seen happen to Ink-Talon and the bat in our group when they¡¯ve been overstimulated by something.¡±
¡°Indeed, you are certainly perceptive,¡± the Lead Scholar nodded. ¡°Specifically, I am Attuned to the expressions of others, Understanding them in greater detail and drawing nuance from them that would be nearly imperceptible to the average observer. Unfortunately, that left me with precious little to ¡®give up¡¯ in exchange, so I am prone to episodes like that when I am processing too much information.¡±
¡°And you¡ wanted that?¡±
¡°Of course!¡± they squawked triumphantly. ¡°As a Scholar of the Gift of Understanding itself, I will gladly push my mind to its limits to learn as much as I can.¡± The cockatoo gestured at Quiet-Dream with a sweeping gesture of their wing. ¡°Which is why I insist that we continue. Everything you just described is exactly the kind of data I need, so I would like to ask you about your memories prior to that event. About your life in your original world.¡±
¡°Wait, why me specifically? You¡¯ve already interviewed everyone else, what makes me special?¡±
¡°The memories of Song and Explorer Garden-Blessing are unreliable, by their own admission,¡± Delving thought began, tapping the base of their writing quill on the ground to punctuate their points. ¡°The fruit bat was unable to grasp the nuances of the details I want, Pearl outright refused to answer all but the most basic questions, Chase is not conscious today to give a testimony, and Explorer Eager-Horizon is only pretending to be one of your kind.¡±
¡°Oh.¡± Quiet-Dream flinched at the final item on that list. Of course someone with that Attunement could see right through the Explorer¡¯s deception. But they didn¡¯t seem to have reported the bird yet, and didn¡¯t express the fact with anything approaching malice or anger, just mild disappointment in the lack of the perspective he wanted. He would have to fill that gap. ¡°Okay, yeah. I¡¯ll do my best, then.¡± He took a deep breath, and caught Black-Leap staring at him eagerly.
She was clearly curious about his past as well. It was about time she knew. ¡°What do you want to know?¡±