Gorilla. Ben had never seen a creature like that, but this creature crouching on the ground just in front of him was definitely a gorilla.

Despite the small, rotund body, the gorilla’s arms were incredibly long, reaching three limes further than its body. Its legs, meanwhile, were quite small, to the point that the long arms would have dragged along the ground when it walked. And that was exactly the case. Before Ben encountered it, he had caught the creature and its friends sauntering through the decimated forest, and their arms had been dragging along behind them like grand capes.

Now, when they came face to face, their limbs shot up into defensive positions so quickly that Bennet and Benita nearly jumped out of their skin. But that was irrelevant to Ben.

What’s this? What’s this? Gorillas with green hair? What’s this? Their bodies round and square. What’s this? I can’t believe my eyes, I must be dreaming. Wake up Ben, this isn’t fair! What’s this?

Ben’s thoughts quickly morphed into a fun little tune, courtesy of Beck. Ben took that to mean that his team wasn’t in immediate danger, so he observed the green gorillas more closely.

Their most striking feature was definitely their fur. Ben was enthralled by how unique the gorillas looked compared to humans, but the mottled green hair was the thing that caught his eye. The luscious coats covered their entire bodies, leaving no trace of skin exposed, except for their bright yellow noses and ears. He wondered how they could even see, considering that thick strands of fur covered the place where their eyes might be. A detail that didn’t go over his head was that their arms, which were still held up in preparation for a fight, were completely spotless. Although they had been dragging their noodle arms through the ashy mud, not a speck of dirt marred their coats.

He also paid special attention to how the creatures differed from humans. There were the shapes of their bodies and the distinct fur, but there were also their hands and feet – they were tiny! He half-expected their limbs to end with massive, strong features designed to grab branches and trees, according to some ancient knowledge he somehow possessed, but instead, the gangly limbs ended in small, practically dainty digits more fitting for fine artistry. Of course, these were also covered in green hair. The only other features Ben could differentiate from humans were that each fernen was slightly larger than the average human, their noses were pretty big, and that their ears were also tiny. And much pointier than even the average human.

Other than the shapes of their bodies and their defining green hair, Ben immediately took note of the only other thing adorning the creatures: their accessories. They were freaking neat! There were four gorillas, and each had discrete lines of pouches strung across their bodies. All four also wore wooden circlets with unique designs, and the one in the front additionally held a huge wooden staff.

“They…forest…protect…thing.”

“Huh?” Ben let out. The gorillas had spoken, but he only understood every other word. What exactly were these creatures? They seemed intelligent, speaking to Ben as if they were humans, but he didn’t understand them very well. Their soft green fur made him think of something, something he - or rather, his Momma - had heard from an old friend. Something about… mossy creatures?

“Ben, stop! Don’t attack them! Whatever you do, let them move first,” Beryl’s voice rang in Ben’s head. He had vaguely heard her yelping and apologizing before, but now she sounded…cold.

Mamata finally decided to interject. “Ben, stay calm. Those are fernen, I’m pretty sure. Some of the mercenaries have a dubious understanding of their language, so you should be able to gather the gist of what they’re saying. I’m sending the humans to help you out, so just hang tight. Oh, I’ve also gotta find someone fluent in fernen language…. Hm? What’s this…?”

“Thing… know?”

Ben turned his attention back to the gorillas - fernen - as Mamamia’s presence left as quickly as it had descended. The leader fernen stiffened during Mooma’s warning, and was now on even greater guard. It wasn’t hard to tell that the leader was quite proficient with Mind, enough to know that a powerful being had just popped in for a chat. Did she make a mistake by alerting Ben, then? If they were going to try peaceful negotiations with the fernen, then spooking them probably wasn’t the best idea.

“…thing said… protecting them within…vulture.” the leader said, waving its staff in Ben’s general direction. He wasn’t sure exactly what the fernen wanted, but he decided that something had to be done. If peace was truly the goal, as his family seemed to be shooting for, then he would give his all to become friends!

Ben slowly lowered himself down, vaguely listening to the advice humming from Beck. Then he slowly began buzzing towards the fernen, stopping when the leader began to wave his stick with the air of a threat.

“Stop! …protect…I…don’t trust you…you…thing!”

Ben stopped moving several meters away from the fernen, not entirely sure on how to proceed. The six inhuman creatures, bee and fernen alike, waited in silence for a minute before Ben’s wings buzzed again.

“Don’t worry guys. I’ve got this,” he said, tossing Bennet and Benita a stoic smile and a thumbs up, somehow without any thumbs. He took a breath, signaling to the fernen that they should pay close attention to him.

Then Ben started dancing.

__________

“What the…” Grehn managed to say. He, Vlugh, and Yelah’s puppeteered body had rapidly arrived in the eastern forest thanks to the help of some warriors and their Minds, only to encounter something they didn’t comprehend. It was a sight that delighted the bee warriors, and simply confused the humans.

A dance party.

Ben was at the center, dancing like his life depended on it. Occasionally, Bennet and Benita buzzed in for support, bouncing for a beat before moving to the sidelines. A fernen holding a staff was sitting cross-legged on the ground, tapping the stick against its side to unheard music. Two other fernen who looked quite similar to each other clapped along with the dance of the bees, and a third skinnier one made intermittent whooping sounds. A true dance party.

Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

“Oh! You guys finally arrived! Meet my new friends. This is Feltan, that’s Follo, Elofan, and last but not least, Enfla! And you guys…”

Rather than introduce the new arrivals by name, Grehn watched as Ben danced around, jiggling his butt around like a bee possessed. He could only look on with bulging eyes as ‘Feltan’, a freaking fernen, simply nodded and gave Ben a series of whooping noises in response.

Grehn was no expert on fernen. Not by a long shot. He knew of them, of course; one couldn’t even live in Yiwi without at least hearing of their existence. They were near-mystical creatures that constantly interfered with expeditions and human activity in the Vultuous Forest, proving an even more bothersome - if less unreasonable - obstacle for humanity compared to the vultures. Even then, Grehn had only encountered the forest creatures a couple times during missions.

All mercenaries who operated out of Yiwi were given a crash course in the whoops and snarls the fernen used to communicate, but Grehn was a relatively new arrival in Yiwi. They usually decided that Yelah could handle any communication, since she had absorbed the creatures’ language for far longer than anyone else on the team. From what she told him, they typically asked the same questions any time they encountered people in the forest: what their goal was, how long they would stay in the forest, if they would be willing to let a fernen scout monitor them, what the result of the ‘Battle’ was, and whether they had encountered the elusive ‘Vulture King.’

That last one always made Grehn nervous. The previous questions all had either recited answers or were simple enough to describe. Their goal and the length of time, easy enough. The ‘request’ to be observed wasn’t really a request, Grehn knew. The only answer to that was yes. Similar case for the ‘Battle’ question. Grehn didn’t quite know the translation, or what the question was about, but the short answer to that one was ‘Highchief Fentan’. He was aware of the supposed Vulture King, of course, but the beast hadn’t been seen for ages at this point. He supposed he couldn’t blame the poor fellows. If a monster capable of holding humanity at bay, which controlled forces that could blot out the sun, was hiding somewhere in his house, he might be wary of it too.

But the fernen were no pushovers. There was a reason mercs were told to always cooperate with whatever the fernen requested, unless it violated certain agreements or boundaries. The mission always came first, obviously, but if a merc’s survival was at stake, they must choose the safe route. He knew the creatures were strong, fast, and intelligent. And they were powerful Mind users in their own right.

But he also knew why many were still so wary of the forest-dwellers: guns were completely ineffective.

He had heard of a collection of losers who entered the forest back in the day, guns blazing. When guns first spread across the land, many weaklings felt themselves invincible, and challenged those far above their station. Many, like the idiots who went into the forest that day, met untimely ends at the hands of the ones they challenged. In that case, they were killed by the forest creatures, notably the fernen. It was a famous cautionary tale he heard when he arrived in the city.

Famous, because the heads of the idiots were personally delivered back to Yiwi by the fernen Highchief, who warned the humans of their folly.

Suffice to say, Grehn only thought of the fernen in a wary sense, and had been relieved when there were none present last time he entered the forest. So seeing them dancing along with Ben and his pals was a bit disconcerting, to say the least.

“I must agree with you, human. Ben’s methods are… confusing. But I must say, as confusing as they are, they don’t feel wrong. On the contrary. And to his credit, it does seem to be working,” Grehn heard in his head. As nonchalantly as he could, he bowed his head towards the floating form of Beatrice, who had just arrived. As wary as he might feel towards the fernen, it was nothing compared to his feelings towards the bees. Specifically this one.

Many of the bees, including the Queen, seemed to possess a degree of morals, or even sympathy. There was no love lost for humans in the hive, but Grehn soon realized that the bees took their Queen’s weirdly… nice lessons to heart. Barring a few exceptions.

But Beatrice? She had no boundaries at all. He was sure she was listening to his thoughts even now, and in a rare moment of defiance, challenged her to do something about it. But the Aide didn’t respond at all. Was she no longer listening, or was she simply that hard-hearted, that she would casually resist his provocation?

He breathed a sigh of relief, shocked that he even dared think such things. It wasn’t that he wanted to antagonize the tyrant Aide, but it wasn’t so simple to control one’s thoughts, especially for someone like Grehn. He usually avoided saying unnecessary things simply by keeping them within, but such a strategy just couldn’t work with his captors. The unfortunate truth was that his silence wouldn’t help him avoid confrontation anymore, so he needed to find a new outlet.

Regardless. Now that Beatrice was here, he would let her handle things with the fernen. Why did they even bother calling him in the first place? Or his friends?

“Ahem. Ben, if you could, please communicate to the fernen that we are delighted by their visit, and eagerly await their subservience. I have brought a series of Linker bees to bring them into the hive.”

Grehn froze. What? Was Beatrice being serious!? Such a play was way too risky. Worst case, the bees could end up with a second human situation. Your highness, is this your will?

“Hm? Oh yeah yeah- hey, wait a second! Beatrice, we don’t need to do that yet,” the Queen’s voice rang. He sighed with relief as Beatrice sagged, and the Linker bees that had begun to rise off the ground lowered themselves again.

“In that case,” Grehn wondered aloud. “What exactly is the plan? Are you going to share the forest with the fernen? Maybe a similar situation to what the vultures had?”

“Absolutely not. We are nothing like those ghastly, bird-brained beasts, and will accept nothing less than absolute dominion over the forest. From my research based on Ben’s visualizations, the fernen and vultures lived in a tense coexistence. Although everything was turned to ash, we still managed to identify the remains of civilization in certain areas. Certain large areas. The fernen were widespread, and acted as a loose wall between the humans and vultures to the west, north, and south. Since the hive will continue to expand, such an unstable arrangement will probably not be tolerable for either party. Am I right Ben?”

“Er, I don’t think I can dance all that stuff, Trice…”

It baffled Grehn to see Beatrice snort in anger and verbally chastise Ben for his lack of decorum. She didn’t rise against his own frustrated thoughts, but a simple nickname bothered her like this? He decided he didn’t understand Beatrice at all.

“Very well. In that case, I will take on the questions from here. I can at least ask what their intentions are.”

Beatrice moved forward, drawing the attention of the fernen. Ben’s antics had lured them into a sense of comfort, but once the others had arrived, they were on guard again. The only one who still seemed calm was the one called Feltan, which reinforced Grehn’s confidence in his analysis. This Feltan was not just the leader of this group, but an influential… person amongst the fernen. While the others were visibly on guard, he appeared calm on the outside. But in truth, he was the most wary of the four. His eyes were trained on the humans, wondering what they were doing there, yet simultaneously judging the capabilities of the bees.

Beatrice stopped right in front of Feltan. For a moment, Grehn thought he saw a murderous glint in her eye, but it was soon replaced with serenity.

Hold on. How is she supposed to ask them anything? She can’t speak out loud.

As Grehn wondered, Beatrice beckoned him forward, and nearly involuntarily, he walked up to the increasingly tense gathering. Of course.

“Okay. Um. ‘What is your goal?’”

Feltan’s eyes narrowed, quickly shifting between Grehn and the bees. He hid it, but Grehn noticed the realization dawn in his eye, along with another emotion.

Fear.

“Protect the forest. From humans. And…threat,” he said the last while looking straight at Beatrice.

“How long?”

“Forever.”

Suddenly, Grehn’s head throbbed. He nearly reacted, his hand twitching towards his sword, but the echoing words of the Queen stopped him in his tracks.

“Alrighty! I haven’t managed to Link someone fluent in fernen yet, but the C- I mean, I’ve managed to piece together their language, mostly. So go ahead and make those fernen your friends, everyone.”

In the next moment, before Grehn even knew what was happening, Beatrice’s Mind pushed him to speak. “Feltan, I can tell you are an important figure among the fernen. Our great Mother, the Queen, has deemed it acceptable for you to accept us bees as the rulers of the Vultuous Forest. If you are one who can accept such an arrangement on behalf of the fernen, then please state your agreement as such. I would advise you not antagonize us, or the might of the hive will make itself known. Our Mother would like you to know that she prefers peace, so will you accept?”

Nothing moved, save for the running water of the river. Feltan’s stoic mask broke during the speech, his wide eyes staring unblinking at Beatrice. He knew she was the one in charge here. And also that she was stark-raving mad.

“Excuse me?” He finally snarled. “The forest belongs to no-one. Just a moment ago, this human only had a weak comprehension of our tongue, but now it speaks to us as if it knows our entire language. Is this your doing?”

“I would prefer for you to answer the question, Feltan.”

The fernen leader took a deep breath, seemingly steeling himself with resolve. “As the current Lowchief, I do possess the authority to temporarily make such an arrangement. With significant scrollwork… But the Highchief always has the final say for permanent arrangements, so anything I agree to would never be permanent. Even so, I cannot accept-“

“I, Beatrice, second-in-command of my Mother’s hive, challenge my counterpart, the Lowchief, to a Battle of Minds.”