The simple act of trying to eat breakfast is enough to alert me that something a bit more fundamental has changed than just my teeth. I eat cereal for breakfast every day, unless my mom decides to cook something on the weekend. I mean that. Every single day, I wake up, I shower, and I chow down on a bowl or two of sugary, oaty, wheaty goodness drenched in milk. I like cereal; it's simple and easy and tasty and quick. It's a great meal all around, yet the mere thought of eating it now makes my stomach churn. After a hesitant, confused back-and-forth of trying to complete my usual routine but being deeply repulsed by it, a cycle of opening the cupboard, shaking in place, closing the cupboard, then opening it again, I head to the fridge instead. This feels more natural, somehow. An urge takes me and before I know it I've swallowed four eggs whole.

…Huh.

I… really hope I don't get salmonella. What the heck, monster brain? At least let me cook them. I didn't even chew the darn things, just… gulp. Like a friggin' snake. I mean, I doubt raw egg would taste good anyway, but… uh, hmm. I glance at the egg carton. Hesitantly, I put another egg in my mouth. I'm not really able to chew things anymore, since I have no molar structures and my teeth just do cutting now. Eggs don't really need more than that, though, so I burst it open in my mouth and jolt at the explosion of flavor that rushes out of it. This is weird. Really weird. Eggs used to taste so bland to me, but now it's just like… mmm. Tasty unborn children juice. I swallow it all, the broken eggshell scratching uncomfortably but not painfully as it slides down my throat. I'll need to eat a few dozen more eggs each day to catch up with Gaston, but I'm starting to see the appeal of his routine all of a sudden.

Whatever. I'd better get out of the house before my brother comes downstairs. It's raining outside, which in some nebulously narcissistic way makes me feel somewhat cheated. Days upon days of constant panic and horror have finally left me somewhat numb to the idea that my humanity is slowly dripping away. Not… not totally numb, not by a longshot. The thought is horrifying. It's just that I'm so incredibly exhausted from being horrified all the time that the feeling is sort of sliding off of my brain a little. I feel like there's a subtle difference between coming to terms with something and just… lacking the mental bandwidth for additional panic attacks. But maybe not. Maybe this is what acceptance feels like. I guess I'll take it, either way.

I grab an umbrella from the stand by the door—it rains a lot here, so my family is prepared for it—and start my walk to the bus stop. Brendan arrives not long after, giving me a wide berth as he circles into my line of sight in an attempt to not surprise me. I smile at him, not that he can see it behind my mask.

"Hey," I greet him.

"Hey," he answers, relaxing noticeably. "Uh, how's things?"

"Not terrible," I admit.

"That's… good news, I suppose," he nods. "How was last night?"

"Pleasantly uneventful," I admit. "I was only awake for about two hour-ish fantasy time units. We were keeping a watch rotation."

"Ah. Yeah. Classic adventuring stuff."

"Exactly."

"Good that nothing happened," he comments awkwardly.

"Agreed," I say. "I think spider-Hannah is starting to grow eyes though, maybe?"

"Oh! Is that good?"

"Well if they let me see it will be, yeah."

He nods, and the silence that follows makes me restless instead of comfortable like it usually does. Absentmindedly, I open my mouth just a little bit and let my jaw snap shut. Clack. Brendan gives me a startled look.

"Teeth came in," I explain, pointing at my own mouth. "They're, uh, really big and sharp. Also I had a weird urge to eat like five raw eggs this morning, so if I start vomiting later that's probably why."

"You seem, uh, calmer about that than I would have expected," Brendan admits.

"I noticed that too, yeah," I agree. "I think I'm just too tired to panic, but it might be mental corruption, so… I'm trying not to think about it too much, honestly."

He relaxes a little.

"Well the corruption can't be too bad, you're still you enough to purposefully ignore it," he jokes, and I glare at him. This only seems to amuse him further, so I really don't know why I bothered. I clack my teeth at him again, and that seems to do a better job of getting my point across.

"...I really wanna see what you have going on under that mask," Brendan admits.

I glance around. We're the only two people at the bus stop and the bus is nowhere to be seen, so I shrug and lift the mask, opening my jaw up as wide as it'll go. I feel it drop down, down further, and nearly unhinge all the way down to touch my neck to my chin, even as I stare up at Brendan. His expression is… complicated, to say the least. I watch his eyes flicker around to various parts of my face, a mix of interest and mild horror and something I can't really identify all warring together in a messy mush of emotion.

"Close your mouth and smile," Brendan says.

Seeing no reason not to, I snap my teeth shut again (clack!) and give him a tight-lipped grin.

"Woah, that's creepy," Brendan mutters. "Your cheeks stretch just enough to put you in uncanny valley there, Hannah. Be careful with that if you're ever caught without your mask."

"Oh, good to know," I nod, putting said mask back on. "I guess that makes sense, considering how wide I can open my jaw now. Think of how big of a burger I could eat!"

Although, frankly, I'd prefer to just remove the patties and bacon from the burger and just eat that. Maybe the cheese, too.

"It's always food with you," Brendan snorts.

"Hey, mutating into a horror beyond human comprehension takes a lot of calories, okay?"

"I dunno, you seem pretty comprehensible right now."

"Just wait until I start phasing out of reality! I'll reach halfway through the fourth dimension and you'll get to see all my internal organs and stuff."

"Lucky me."

Unfortunately, our banter is cut short by the arrival of the bus. Once surrounded by humanity, the talk of my budding inhumanity has to end, so I prod Brendan for more information about the misadventures of his tabletop characters. The mermaid who summons battle mounts to get around on land hasn't even gotten another game since I first started mutating, so instead I'm learning about a clawed psychic woman who flies around everywhere completely naked because GURPS gives you a discount on defensive force fields if they prevent you from wearing anything while they're up for some reason. Consequently, she functionally has more hit points than the rest of the party put together, because hardened ablative psychic barriers are better than hit points anyway. I choose not to judge the fact that Brendan clearly decided not to convince his GM that the 'no wearing equipment under the force field' shouldn't apply to clothing that provides no mechanical advantage, even though he absolutely could have done that. I am in no position to complain about someone who fantasizes about flying naked ladies.

We soon get off the bus and the school day begins. Vaguely wondering what sort of horrible mutation will ruin my life today, I'm surprised to find lunchtime rolling around entirely without incident. Unfortunately, (or perhaps fortunately, given my teeth situation) I don't really get to eat today. I have a science test to make up.

I find Autumn already waiting outside the science classroom when I show up, scribbling something into her notebook. She quickly puts it away when she spots me, nodding a somewhat nervous greeting. She seems kind of uncomfortable in general, hunched over slightly with her arms tight against her body.

"Hello, um… Hannah?" she says. What, did she forget my name again?

"That's me, I'm Hannah," I confirm, stepping beside her to wait for the teacher to arrive. "Worried about the test?"

She shrugs awkwardly and declines to answer.

"What about you?" she says instead. "Are you doing okay?"

"The bleeding stopped, if that's what you mean," I respond carefully. It's simultaneously a more reassuring and more correct answer than just saying 'yes,' even if it's misleading because of that.

Autumn just gives me a funny look for a while before turning away.

"That's good," she says.

"Thanks again for all your help back then," I tell her before I can chicken out. "Really, it means a lot to me."

"Don't thank me for that," she answers firmly, which surprises me. That didn't sound like modesty, that sounded like a legitimate request. Self-esteem issue, maybe?

"Uh, I'm not sure I can stop myself from being thankful. Like, that was a lot of blood you helped out with, but… I'll go ahead and be thankful silently, I suppose," I manage.

She just nods, not even looking at me. Shoot, I handled that badly and I don't understand how. She seems really uncomfortable all of a sudden, so I take a subtle half-step away to give her some space and shut up. If she appreciates that, I can't tell, but it's still probably my smartest move so far. The science teacher arrives not long after, letting us into the classroom and giving us our tests back. He didn't bother to give us new tests, apparently not caring about the possibility that we looked up all the answers overnight. Which is fortunate for Autumn, because she blitzes through the test with a speed that implies she did exactly that.

I finish my test (even though it still has bloodstains on it, which I feel like should probably be a biohazard) and turn it in at around the same time, leaving Autumn and I free to go actually eat something before our next class. I glance into the cafeteria to see what they're serving and see some vegetarian pasta thing that smells absolutely revolting, so lacking any real way to get food I just end up turning to Autumn.

"You wouldn't happen to be going out to eat, would you?"

She shakes her head, causing her brown curls to bounce adorably.

"I have a car, but I don't normally go out. I packed lunch."

"Well darn," I sigh. Then, on a whim: "Mind if I come sit with you anyway?"

She gives me an odd (and cute) look before turning away.

"...I'm just going to the library to read," she mutters.

"I'm okay with that," I tell her. "I have some homework to do."

That's only half true; I would normally do the homework next period, but… y'know. Crush brain says proximity to girl is good. Follow. Befriend. Bask in presence. Other perfectly normal and not-creepy behavior. Like yeah, everything I thought yesterday about relationships being a bad idea when I'm mutating into a monster is true, and also it'd probably suck for Ida if I start pursuing someone else right after she admitted she wants to get in my pants (which is still kind of weird and confusing, what the heck), but I'm not really in a position where my logic brain is in charge here. But hey, if I want a logical reason to do this, here's one: Autumn is the kind of friend that's willing to help me clean up giant bloodstains, and I'll probably need more of that in the near future.

Though I guess she might change her tune if it ends up not being my blood. Hopefully we won't have to find out.

Thanks to the joy of rich-person taxes, my school library is actually pretty well stocked. I don't have time to read anymore, but I used to enjoy it quite a bit and I consumed a lot of the books on offer here during my freshman year. Autumn awkwardly plops down at a table, pulling a book and a lunch bag out of her backpack before lifting said backpack up on the table, as if to use it as a shield to prevent her from having to look at my face. Which, y'know, probably not the best sign. I have no idea what this girl thinks of me, but… I guess that's what I'm here to find out?

I hear a pencil scribbling as I get out my textbooks—probably Autumn taking notes again—and settle in to study. I don't want to come off as too weird (or too desperate) so I resign myself to stay quiet until lunch ends unless Autumn starts a conversation. She doesn't, but that's okay. Silence is pretty comfortable for me, a lot of the time. When the bell finally rings and we start getting up, I finally manage to catch a glimpse at the cover of her book, which just has a single, large word on it: Thud!

Oh nice, she has good taste!

"Are you reading Terry Pratchett?" I ask. "I love Terry Pratchett!"

Slowly, she peels her eyes away from the book, blinking owlishly for a moment as she slings her backpack over her shoulder.

"...What's your favorite thing he's written?" she asks, testingly.

Uh. Hmm. That's a good question. Pratchett has a lot of great books, but…

"Monstrous Regiment," I say, since I'm trying to hint at the fact that I am a lesbian. "But I also really love Going Postal. Only Terry Pratchett would have the gall to name the main character of a story 'Moist.' Like dang, that is an impossible amount of confidence on display. The dude really made me read the word 'moist' thousands of times in a row and like it, and I think that is all the evidence you need to prove he is the most powerful author to have ever lived."

She giggles a bit at that and my heart flutters, my face flushes and a feeling of unparalleled success washes over me, utterly unearned. All I did was speak a few sentences about how Terry Pratchett—whose books have sold over one hundred million copies worldwide, who is technically, in fact, Sir Terry Pratchett because he was knighted for being so good at words—is a pretty good author, actually. An utterly worthless, smooth-brain thing to point out.

And yet, it made a nerdy girl laugh. Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!

"My favorite is Carpe Jugulum," Autumn supplies. "The whole witches series was what hooked me. I'm rather disappointed the witches don't show up much in the other books. Most of the Ankh-Morpork characters do to some extent."

"Well, that's what happens when most of the books take place in Ankh-Morpork," I agree. "You're right though, it is a shame. With a series as huge as Discworld, though, it'd be impossible to have everyone showing up all the time. I always wished for more Susan, myself."

"Susan is neat," Autumn agrees. She agreed with me about a book! I can't help but grin, which probably makes it extra fortunate that I have a mask on. Look at me interact socially! Aww yeah! Unfortunately, it looks like we now have to part ways, because Autumn doesn't seem to be heading in the direction of my next class.

"So, uh, do you usually eat in the library like that?" I ask.

Autumn immediately tenses, her expression immediately becoming twenty times more anxious.

"...Um, yeah?" she answers after a long and conspicuous pause.

Woah. What was up with that? Ida said she was pretty sure Autumn wasn't getting bullied, but that was… not the face of someone expecting something good to happen as a result of asking where she eats. This is so weird, she's acting really funky compared to yesterday. I should make sure to give her an out.

"Well, um, I was wondering if you would be okay with me dropping by and eating with you sometimes, or if you'd prefer to eat alone," I say carefully.

She stares at me briefly, not seeming to know what to say.

"I'm not gonna stop you from going to the library," is all she settles on, and I decide it's best not to press. She turns and hurries off, the unexpected quickness of her movements making my muscles tense with an instinct to pounce. Thankfully, I ignore that instinct and do not chase down, tackle, and bite my crush. That's like, third or fourth date stuff.

…Uh, wait. Back up on that one. Really, brain? I shake my head and wander off to my next class. It's boring, uninteresting, and uneventful, as is the class after that. Things are going suspiciously well, and since I don't know how to feel about that I do my usual strategy of ignoring it. I have work today, too, which means I'm not expected to eat dinner with my family, which means I don't have to spend a whole meal trying not to show my teeth when I eat, and that's pretty nice too. Even work goes off without a hitch. It feels like my old routine is back, despite all the changes. It feels… weird. I'd expected it to be more comfortable after all the panic and insanity and madness. I suppose none of that is disappearing, though, it's just… delayed. I'm probably just stressed in anticipation.

Whatever. I head home after work, trudge up to my room, and quickly pass out. Then I immediately start flailing and hissing because it feels like somebody just peeled my eyelids back and forced me to look at the sun. I try to shriek in agony but nothing happens because I can't breathe. I flail around instead, screaming silently as I flail to get the agony out instead. I roll in pain, other parts of my mind dimly starting to wake and take stock of the situation. I'm in fantasyland, I'm a hyperspider, Kagiso is standing over me looking horrified and repeatedly calling my name. But none of that matters because pain, pain, pain, pain! It feels like something is boring itself into my skull from a dozen different directions, ripping me open and setting the holes on fire. I'm in pain. I'm under attack! I need safety! I jump into the closest barren zone, entirely on instinct.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

Darkness descends instantly. The pain vanishes like a popped bubble. I still wish I could scream, but the need is less instinctive and more… me.

"Makana!" Kagiso cries out, looking around desperately. "Hana makana! Makana! Makana makana!"

I don't know what that means, and I'm worried for her, but we don't seem to be under attack by anything so I don't have the mental bandwidth to focus on it. The pain is… kind of coming back. It's not really there, almost like the memory of pain rather than pain itself, but sometimes it throbs in a way that makes me immediately fear it's about to return. Teboho and Sindri wake up as a result of Kagiso's shouts, rushing out to speak with her in hushed tones. I get the expected mental contact shortly afterwards.

Hannah? Sindri asks, causing another spike of agony to ram into my brain.

Ow! I hiss back at him. I'm here. I'm alive. I'm in pain.

Kagiso is apologizing over and over, Sindri says, which hurts more so I hiss at him mentally. What happened?

I have no idea, I answer. I literally just woke up.

She says she hurt you.

Huh. That seems odd. I don't feel wounded or anything, I feel more… a stabbing ache. Like a migraine. I check my body over anyway, and… wait. There's some chitin missing between two of my legs. Oh. Oh! The light-sensing organs! The thinning chitin that had been covering them is falling off! A quick check next to where I was sleeping on the rock next to Kagiso does indeed show a chunk of chitin that fell off.

Not her fault, I tell him. I'm partially molting. It hurts. I think I'm growing eyes.

You're what?

Growing eyes, I repeat, looking deeper into my own body. Yeah, those nerve clusters are really bunching up and meshing with my brain. Kinda creepy. I think I just overloaded an undeveloped organ system. My nervous system is still adjusting to stuff. I should probably stay here for a while.

May I ask why?

Well, it's dark in the fourth dimension, and I don't have eyelids.

There's a pause.

Fair enough, Sindri eventually allows. I'll let the others know the situation while we get camp cleaned up, and then we'll figure out the best way to handle things.

I send back an affirmation and stretch my legs a bit, scuttling around the inside of the barren zone as I try to think. It does seem like I'm getting my wish, as least as long as I'm interpreting my new senses correctly. My guess for how things went down is as follows: I fall asleep next to Kagiso, my body still changing. Kagiso gives me pats and scratches as she is wont to do, but accidentally ends up removing part of my body covering up my still-developing eyes. It probably came off really easily since they're just… dead chitin at this point, entirely intended for being harmlessly removed. They were just removed too early, before the changes to my nervous system were ready for the sudden influx of light and information. So under this assumption, all I can really do is rest and wait for my body to finish changing. The main problem with that being that I am very, very hungry.

Sindri, I think as 'loudly' as I can, for lack of a better term. Sindri, can you hear me?

Of course, Sindri answers. How can I help, Hannah?

I think I need food, I admit. Meat. A lot of it.

Transmutation pangs? He asks.

Huh?

You need mass and fuel for your changes, Sindri explains. The speed of the change and the symptoms you're experiencing point to Transmutation magic, so I think this is pretty obvious evidence that you're triple-naturalborn. Which, again, is extremely uncommon, but certainly not unheard of. Most Transmutation magic focuses on the self, with shapeshifting spells and whatnot, and it's one of the more energy-intensive forms of magic. It tends to make the caster hungry. We call that hunger Transmutation pangs.

Oh, that… makes sense, I guess, I admit. Honestly, this is all really weird and strange to me, so it's really reassuring when you treat it like it's normal? If, um, that makes sense.

Of course that makes sense. And it is normal, Hannah. I would not consider your situation in general to be normal, I suppose, but the individual pieces? Of course. Humans categorize and record everything we can on magic, and it's part of my job to be up-to-date on our general well of knowledge. Mostly so I don't get killed by my own ignorance. You're fascinating and unique in many ways, but many people have magic that allows them to step through space, or that changes their body over time. I'm happy to help share what we've learned from their experiences.

In that moment, I am very, very tempted to tell him about Earth. Maybe he won't think that's crazy either. Maybe he can help me find people like me. Sindri is nice, Sindri is a friend, and he's proven that he's willing to put real effort into helping me when he doesn't have to. I don't, though. It's a conversation I don't want to have.

For some reason, I kind of like not having to talk about being human.

Curling up into a ball, I roll around a bit to get comfortable since I know I'm just going to be waiting around for a while. I am currently watching my own eyeballs grow, which is a bit of a surreal experience. They aren't growing or changing very fast, not by a longshot, but they are shifting at a visible rate, the ends of new nerves slowly snaking to their destinations, the membranes of the eyes themselves thickening and adjusting little by little. It's kind of fascinating.

Kagiso caught you some food, Hannah, Sindri reports. Where should she leave it?

Ah, right, actually getting the food into the barren zone will be a problem. I scuttle over to the edge of the area and stick one limb out, wiggling it around for Kagiso to notice. She drops the animal corpses nearby, deliciously raw and bloody. Resigning myself to a moment of pain, I scuttle out of my barren zone, keeping the budding eye she accidentally revealed at the back of my body as I quickly grab a bite and return to the dimensional pocket to swallow it. Repeating this a few more times, I actually start to feel full by the time I finish off her pile of unneeded apology presents. I tell Sindri to tell her thank-you.

Getting food in my system seems to speed the growth process for my eyes significantly, though I mean that as a very scientific kind of significance, not to in any way imply that things are now moving fast. There might be a way to speed it up, though. Let's try to tackle that problem in the least stupid way I have available, though.

Hey Sindri, I ask. I was thinking of trying to purposefully use my Transmutation magic. Right now it just kind of does its own thing, and I was hoping to get a bit more control over it. Any advice?

Not the first time you've woken up with new body parts, then? Sindri muses. Hmm. Your own magic generally isn't at risk of harming you, unless you go out of your way to be reckless and stupid with it. Even then, reckless and stupid people generally get magic they can't irreversibly injure themselves with, so generally speaking I'd say you're likely to be fine. The same can't be said for the rest of us, though, so make sure to direct whatever magical energies you conjure up away from Kagiso, Teboho, and I, okay?

Huh. That's weirdly nonchalant. "You'll probably be fine" is not an answer I expected from Sindri, he seems like an extremely cautious man.

Of course, I won't expose you guys to anything if I can help it, I confirm. But I have to admit, I was hoping for more concrete advice. I barely have any idea how magic even works, I've just kind of been flailing around and trying to do what feels right, and that's annoying. I like to know how something works, why something works, and only act once I have some solid idea of the expected outcome. But I'm just kind of doing everything blind! Er, no pun intended.

Sindri laughs.

Well, he muses, I must say, it's easy to believe that you were raised by humans.

What, just from that? I ask. I know lots of reckless humans.

Of course, of course, we can be just as thoughtless as anyone. But a dentron wouldn't have that philosophy towards magic at all. It's sacred to them. A deeply personal thing. Dentron are like that in general, very uninterested in looking towards the 'how' and 'why.' I have to admit, it's very refreshing to be traveling with someone who bothers to ask those kinds of questions. Unfortunately, much to the endless frustration of our scientists, magic continues to defy our understanding. The most common theory is that it's managed by some sort of greater intelligence, but I personally have my doubts.

You do? I ask, personally quite surprised. I felt… I mean, someone says the true names of spells, don't you think? When they're cast that way, I mean. The voice sounds like it's coming from a person.

An unfathomably alien person, but still a person, in the broad sense of the definition. Sindri just shrugs, though.

I am a Pneuma mage, he says simply. I am somewhat naturally suspicious of the veracity of unexplained, magically-induced certainty, even if it's a phenomenon shared by nearly all sapients to some extent. I do not claim there is no guiding intelligence, I only claim what I said: I have my doubts. Wrapping back to your initial concern, however, my point is that magic is frustratingly personalized. Attempts to standardize magical teaching ultimately amount to mindfulness exercises like meditation and personal therapy.

Oh no, they have therapists here. I shudder.

So I just kind of have to figure it out, I conclude.

You just kind of have to figure it out, Sindri confirms. But the flipside of that is this: you can 'just figure it out,' on your own, without help. Go ahead and let your instincts guide you. I merely ask, again, that you direct your tests away from our general direction.

I suppose if I must, I answer jokingly, and try to figure out some magic. Fortunately, I already did most of the groundwork for that last night. I know what lever of power I have to pull. I don't know its name, I don't really know what it does, but I know it's there. If I want to know more, I'll have to see what it does with my own ten eyes. So with a twist of a muscle that isn't real, I cast some magic, and I'm in two places at once.

Power flows into me, and power flows into me. I'm here, waiting in the darkness for my eyes to function, and I'm there, four-limbed, motionless, and dreaming, deep in REM yet somehow aware. My magic takes hold, thrumming in the space between universes. An impossibly long line of power connects each half of me, my magic reaching out to grasp it, full-fisted. Grip firmly established, my magic activates, and all it does is pull.

My changes accelerate in both bodies at once, and my familiar friend panic makes her triumphant return. Immediately, I clamp down on the spell hard, ending it before it can change too much. My awareness of my mostly-human self ends, but the damage is done. Something will be wrong when I wake up, that's for sure. At least here and now, in my small little spherical spider body, things have more or less gone to plan. Nerve clusters finish filling themselves out and attaching to my brain. Membranes protect the light-sensitive organs, while the rest of the dead chitin covering them falls off. I still can't see a darn thing, but I suspect that's just because light doesn't seem to enter the fourth dimension at all. Even once the changes stop, though, I'm a bit hesitant to go outside because I don't have any friggin' eyelids.

I get that spiders don't have eyelids, but… really, body? You're going with the spider theme rather than basic sense? I'm going to have to be looking in every direction simultaneously, all the time, because I have ten eyes and none of them can close. That's, uh, a little overkill, don't you think, goddess?

If she's listening she doesn't make herself known, which in retrospect I suppose I'm thankful for.

Hesitantly, I crawl partially out of my dimensional pocket and fail to squint at the bright, painful light I'm greeted with. I'm gonna have a constant headache, aren't I? It takes way too long for my eyes to adjust, stepping uncomfortably out into the open where my three friends have recently finished packing up camp. This hurts and I can't see crap but slowly, very slowly, my vision starts to clear and my new eyes start to be comprehensible. The worst part is how overwhelming it all is. I don't even know why it's overwhelming, I'm currently seeing everything in every direction including stuff that's inside other stuff, so why is three hundred and sixty degree vision a problem? I suspect that I'm just too used to monodirectional vision; I know what vision is supposed to be like, but this is around four times more than that. I take a few hesitant steps, slowly rotating my body and trying to keep my focus towards the ground, watching my own little spider feet tap around. My chitin, I notice, is bone-white. Funny, that.

Hannah? Sindri asks. Are you okay?

This is indescribably weird, I answer.

I suppose I can only imagine. Here, can I at least borrow a leg so I can get us all in the communication network?

I drum my feet in agreement and lift a leg in his general direction, which he, Teboho, and Kagiso all touch at once so Sindri can allow everyone to talk. The first voice is, of course, Kagiso.

Hannah! she chirps immediately. Sorry!

It's fine, Kagiso! Really, you didn't do anything. My body is just a bit cruel to me sometimes.

Y'know. Just a bit. Kagiso just responds by projecting a general feeling of anxiety in my direction, which like, mood.

Uncountable legs, and now uncountable eyes, Teboho comments. You are truly a uniquely beautiful creature, Hannah.

Thanks, I think? I manage. But it's ten legs, ten eyes. Neither is uncountable.

My legs do seem a bit hard to keep track of with my eyes, I suppose, but they look perfectly normal to my spatial sense.

I'll take your word for it, Teboho chuckles. But the fact that I have to do so is rather the point, isn't it?

I guess, I admit, trying to focus on the legs and feet of my comrades. Teboho's fuzzy legs are a somewhat woody reddish brown, matching what I can only assume is the giant, upscaled bark of the world tree in the distance. It looks like a giant wall that replaces the sky in a certain direction, but I can't really see much of it thanks to my low-to-the-ground position. Kagiso's fur, meanwhile, is stark white. I'm not sure if that's albinism or just a normal variation in her species, but I decide not to ask.

Tilting my tiny body, I start moving my gaze upwards (and also downwards, as the other half of me starts pointing towards dirt). The more of my friends I get to see with my eyes, the more I start to realize how insufficient my spatial sense is in terms of experiencing the world. Like sure, I already knew Teboho was smiling at me, but I knew that because I knew the muscles of his lips were tensed into an upturned position, not because I was looking at the guy and seeing him smile. There's a world of difference between knowing an expression and seeing it, letting every social instinct in my brain chug into reciprocation mode, feeling my mood noticeably improve due to the proof that another person is happy with me. I can see again. Holy crap, I missed this. Also, while I'm still seeing the inside of them all the time, which is kind of super gross, I now get to actually look at all four of Kagiso's fuzzy boobs which, uh, is certainly a very different experience now than it was before, and... that's really all I have to say about that! Also also: Sindri is black. I did not expect that at all and as a result I now feel vaguely racist. So. That's a thing.

Hello, everyone, I manage to think at them. It's really nice seeing you for the first time.

Not too ugly a view, I hope, Teboho jokes.

Not at all. I mean like, Sindri's a human man so he's not really all that interesting to look at, but the dentron are actually really neat! Their four long orangutan-esque arms seem kind of creepy to a human aesthetic sense at first, but now that I've been on the receiving end of many fuzzy pats I'm really growing to like them.

Kagiso is the cutest, I announce. But I suppose you two aren't terrible looking.

Kagiso grins smugly, grabbing me with her tail. Her tail then transfers me up to a hand, which ultimately transfers me up to her head. The whole process is dizzying, but I do my best to keep my bearings and ignore the overwhelming sensory data flooding into my head as my view gets moved around.

Good hat, she says happily.

I'm not a hat, I protest.

Then why on head? Kagiso counters, a foolproof response that no one could ever possibly argue against. I rub two legs together to make a hissing noise in lieu of an answer.

That earns a few chuckles from everyone, which I stoically ignore. I'm still busy looking at new things, after all. The problem with my spatial sense is seeing distance, after all, so I'm trying to get my brain to actually focus on and comprehend the absolutely vast amount of visual information I'm now getting thanks to my high vantage point. Around us, the ground just looks like pretty normal ground: dirt, shrubs, etcetera. It seems like it's pretty dry here, but other than that things seem normal. The further I look, however, the crazier things become. Out in the distance, it becomes clear that we're on a raised plateau of land, one that extends far, far out into the horizon, thinning and splitting off into branches of branches of branches until they finally end in what are undoubtedly leaves, even if they, too, are covered in dirt and foliage—a lot more foliage than where we are by the trunk. The closest leaf I see is at least a few miles away, but on it is an entire forest, countless normal-sized trees all growing on the leaf of the giant tree we're already standing on. A waterfall plummets from one of the leaf's edges, painting a rainbow in the air as the impossibly long drop separates the column of water into mist. Beyond it all, puffy white clouds intersperse with the edges of longer branches, the sky a mix of white and green without a hint of the clear blue I'm used to from home. I'm not sure if that's because the sky here is just white or if there's just too many clouds to see it. I look forward to discovering the answer.

That's just looking outwards, though. I'm on a world tree, so the real view is looking up. My family often goes to Dollywood for celebrations and the like, which is a theme park based on Dolly Parton which somehow exists and is actually real. This is relevant because Dollywood offers log cabins in the Smoky Mountains, and we'd rent them because my mom finds that kind of thing incredibly romantic. And really, it's a pretty cool vacation. The Great Smoky Mountains are absolutely gorgeous, and like most mountains they are also very, very tall. My experiences in hiking around the smokies defined a lot of what I find gorgeous in nature, even today. Majestic, powerful, and huge. I thought there was nothing else that could come close.

And then I went to the Rocky Mountains, and my mind was absolutely blown out of my ears. The topographic prominence of Mount Elbert is double that of the highest prominence in the smokies, and in terms of elevation it hits an absolutely ridiculous fourteen thousand feet. Sure, there are more impressive mountains in the world, but for little twelve-year-old Hannah? I thought I was climbing the gosh dang Tower of Babel and sneaking my way into heaven. There is nothing quite like the awe of yet-unforeseen scale, of having the idea of what you thought was big suddenly and impossibly dwarfed into nothingness by comparison. And that is what it's like to look up the trunk of the world tree.

The wall of wood has no apparent beginning or end. Simply looking forward gives me vertigo, because what I'm looking at is so vast, so all-encompassingly solid, that my brain insists it must be the ground. I shift my weight on Kagiso's head, however, and start looking up, up, up, further and further, higher and higher until finally I'm looking straight vertically and there's nothing but canopy, leaf, wood, and fire.

…Wait, fire? Oh shoot, that's definitely fire! There are countless branches and leaves between us and it, it has to be like, a hundred miles above us or something. It's hard to judge distance at this scale, but peeking between the gaps in the leaves is undoubtedly a roaring inferno on an impossible scale.

Uh, Sindri? I ask. Is the Tree of Souls supposed to be on fire?

No, absolutely not, he answers. But there's nothing we can do about that, so let's get moving, shall we? We have a Chaos mage to catch, after all.

Um. Okay? I manage, nervously clinging a little tighter to Kagiso's head, which prompts her to give me a pat. The four of us head out together, following whatever it is Sindri uses to determine where we're supposed to be going.

If you think that's bad, Teboho comments glumly, wait until we get a chance to look down.

I don't like the sound of that at all.