The axolotl beastfolk were respectful and friendly towards me, providing me with a novel experience I was mostly unfamiliar with in my time with the beastkin. The other tribes I had visited immediately distanced themselves from me on account of being human, which I felt was eerily similar to how some human nobles did their best to stay away from commoners. I was always treated with respect, but it was the cool, polite, type of respect, offered only so that the tribe could maintain their claim of being gracious hosts, even to humans.

The axolotls were different, in that regard. They were mostly isolated, living on the southwest coast far from populated areas. There were only two tribes they traded with, one of whom was an aquatic race of penguin beastfolk, and the other was a desert fox tribe, who lived on the very edge of the inhospitable desert, despite what their name would suggest. The isolation of the axolotls gave them a worldview that was unpolluted by societal norms, in which they acted according to their conscience, a lifestyle I fully agreed with.

They were close and intimate without being disrespectful, which became borderline overbearing at times, but I knew they were well-intentioned, so I never declined their offers of eating, or accompanying them on patrols, or sitting around the night’s fire for dinner with the chief. I couldn’t offer them much, save for my healing abilities, which were rendered almost completely useless in the face of their natural regenerative capabilities. All beastfolk had bodies that could heal relatively quickly, but the axolotls could cut off a limb and have it regrown within a few hours. Their regeneration didn’t fully develop until they matured into adults, so I still healed any cuts or scrapes their children got, though it felt like they accepted my offer so I wouldn’t feel superfluous.

The general mood of the tribe was positive, as they lived simple lives and looked forward to what the next day would bring. My…feelings, on the incident, which I did my best to block out, flashed into my head at random times, and I did my best to ignore them, as there was little else I could do, something I felt was starting to become familiar to me.

That changed on the morning of the third day after I had met the axolotls.

I had woken up to the sound of an insistent low-pitched buzzing, which turned out to be two tribes whispering amongst themselves. The axolotls had been visited by the desert foxes, who were conducting their monthly trade of supplies, when the worldwide surveillance formation activated, showing a display of someone sprinting.

I had almost forgotten about the great formation, despite its importance to the world, but that was no longer possible. Seeing a frantic and wounded minotaur-looking beastfolk running for his life, only to be ambushed by a pack of voranders, taking the appearance of giant mongooses, made me ingrain the image into my memory. The ‘screen’ went back and forth repeatedly, showing his initial crime that drew the monsters to him: abandoning his comrades.

The minotaur guy was on a battlefield, and in the background, one could make out a large wall that stood at least three hundred feet tall. It must have been the Wall of the World, where the defenders from each race battled against the voranders that spawned between the Elven continent, where the Wall was established, and the Northern continent, the birthplace of voranders encircled by the greatest barrier the world had ever seen.

The minotaur guy was fighting against the monsters, but after taking a wound to his back, he started acting odd: crouching down and rocking back and forth in the fetal position, clutching his head, shaking involuntarily. Finally, he succumbed to whatever was affecting him and ran away, leaving his comrades who had just been shielding him while he had his episode.

It was depressing to watch, as they all died shortly after, their shock at the minotaur’s actions rendering them unable to react when a humanoid vorander came from nowhere and slashed at all of their bodies in seconds with its clawed hands. The minotaur was quickly swarmed by another pack, and he didn’t even make the slightest effort to resist, looking almost glad to be dying. The scene kept playing until his death, when it rewound and showed the initial crime again, playing the two in a loop until it winked out.

The axolotls and desert foxes were discussing the minotaur’s actions, and how it affected them. Everyone was whispering, so I only caught snippets of conversations. Phrases like, “shamed our entire race”, and “dishonor on his family” were common ones.

Somehow, his actions had brought shame not only to himself, but to his family, his tribe, and the entire beastfolk race. They all claimed responsibility for producing an individual that would abandon his “battle-brothers” in the midst of combat.

I personally had my own views on honor, and while I thought it was…distasteful, for him to do what he did, it was a rational action, from my point of view, to run away from something that stood a good chance of killing you. Then again, he had signed up to fight against them, knowing full well he could die. That added an entire layer of complexity to the argument, but it boiled down to the fact that…yeah, overall, it was a bad move.

Better to go down swinging.

After the axolotls and desert foxes finished their trade, I was introduced to the members of the fox tribe, who were glad to meet me, as I clasped forearms with each individual, a sign of respect that I appreciated them doing. Even for them, the desert was a danger zone void of any but the hardiest of lifeforms. The foxes weren’t the only tribe that bordered the desert, but of their neighbours, none dared to venture inside, especially in the spring and summertime. The heat alone would kill them, to say nothing of other dangers.

Therefore, when I proposed building them an ash house, they were stunned. First, at the fact that I had the capability and permission to build one, and secondly, at how nonchalant I was about it. I suppose I was a bit indifferent to it, especially considering I had never actually made one that was full-scale, but I knew what to do. I just had to do it for longer. They eventually agreed to my proposal, of course, as their environment was in dire need of the supposed kind of shelter an ash house could bring.

The axolotls were also stunned when they learned that I could build an ash house, though they declined when I offered to also create one for them. They had everything they needed, the chief said. Ash houses were meant to give shelter to those who needed them the most, not to act as decorations.

Logic and logistics both suggested that it would be simpler if I traveled with the desert fox tribesmen back to their home, instead of following after them at a later date, which led me to leave from the axolotl tribe shortly after, exchanging goodbyes and gifts and promises to return. The desert foxes I travelled with were a small group of twenty, small enough that they could move with speed, but large enough to have a sense of security while on the move.

Their mounts were not foxes but large bobcats, able to safely carry two people at a time. The bobcats were the fastest mounts I had been on yet, as it only took two days to reach the desert fox tribe.

Their tribe had made their home just outside the border of the desert, but was slightly inland and thus further removed from the dangers of the coast and sea. It was a familiar heat that draped around me, the relentless and unforgiving type of heat that only a sub-tropical sun in summer could provide. The land was surprisingly fertile, as it was essentially a strip of grassland sandwiched between the sands of the beach, and the sands of the desert. Somehow, the terrain had given rise to a completely arable land, as the foxes were harvesting fruits off trees, their orchard bearing much fruit, and a small legion of bobcats were being fed from the land’s bounty, feasting on some kind of bean, though there were plenty of slabs of meat mixed in.

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

The heat was unbearable to me, and I just wanted to do what I promised and get out, despite the hospitality the desert fox tribe displayed. I had never been a fan of hot temperatures or climates, and a different world hadn’t changed that.

I was escorted to the chief’s tent, scaled lizard skins draped atop them to keep off the heat, where the chief’s wife was present, nursing a child. She invited me in, explaining that her husband was off hunting in the desert, searching for monsters or other possible dangers, and exploring just a tiny bit more every time he went in.

“Have you made an ash house before, young human?” she asked politely, smiling at me.

I nodded to her, “Yes, chieftess. I was…foolish, when I was younger, and sought to create one without considering the implications such an act brought with it.”

She kept her smile on as she responded, “It seems humans and beastkin are much the same in that regard.”

I chuckled at her answer when the chief suddenly barged in, dried blood covering his snout and hands as he looked straight at his wife, not noticing that I sat in his blind spot.

“Len, where is the human? Rafta said he could make an ash house, and we might need one if the desert keeps – “

He was interrupted by a slender finger pointing behind him to his left, the smile still on her face clearly conveying her amusement. As the chief turned around and saw me, I stood and bowed to him, “I offer my greetings to you, chieftain of the desert fox tribe. This one is called Rhaaj, and humbly asks for food, water, and a tent for a few days.”

He looked between me and his wife a few times, before his wife burst into laughter, a high-pitched squeal between a purr and a cough, and exited the tent, leaving behind some words as she did so. “Forgive me love, but I just couldn’t resist at the thought of what your face would look like.”

The chief took her departure as the signal to initiate our conversation. “Sit, sit,” He waved me down, so I sat once more, this time across from where he sat on the floor, the tent bare of any furnishings.

“I understand you’ve offered to construct an ash house for us, young…Rhaaj, you said your name was?” I nodded. “I would appreciate such an act, as would my tribe, but I must ask, if only to assure my people later. Are you confident in building one?”

“You can rest easily, chieftain. You have my word that I know how to make it. I’ve constructed one before, and I’m far more familiar with the process now. I can proceed first thing in the morning, after I’ve had some time to rest from the journey. I’m sure you’re aware that us humans have much worse bodies than the beastkin do.”

He closed his eyes for a moment, clearly considering my words, before looking at me with a small smile on his face. “Then we shall have to return your generosity with a gift of our own. A feast, perhaps? Or would you prefer one of our mounts for yourself? They’re bred for the sands, but can adapt to the plains well enough.”

I interrupted him before he could propose any more possible options. “Forgive my bluntness, chieftain, but I cannot take anything from you save what I truly need.” Then I summarized what had happened so far with everything regarding the ash house and the beast council.

And all it did was cause him to laugh.

“After all that, the dragons just let you go? Oh, I don’t know whether to envy you or pity you, young human.”

“Pity me?” I frowned. “Are the dragons known for being indifferent to humans?”

The chief shook his head. “Not only humans, but to nearly everyone that isn’t their kin. Dragonkin, the name of descendants who carry the blood of dragons, are the only proof we have that the dragons are still around. If the council claims the dragons are aware of you….well, let’s just say I’m unsure whether or not it’s a good thing that you’ve drawn their eyes to you.”

“Fantastic,” I grumbled to myself.

“Well, all that dragon business can wait until later. You go and rest. From what I’ve heard about ash houses, you’ll need it.”

I nodded and bowed to him once more, before leaving the tent.

The next day, the chief had gathered all his tribesmen to watch as I began the process of creating an ash house. After all, being able to witness the creation of an ash house was a monumental event in any beastkin’s life, doubly so when it was a human doing it. I respectfully advised him to watch from a distance, as it would be somewhat dangerous in the area around me. He declined, as did the rest of the tribesmen, and I could only hope they would retreat if things got out of hand.

It had been a relatively long time since I made that mockery of an ash house in the capital, and I knew, in general terms, how to create one on a proper scale. Ash houses, at their core, were essentially giant domes that could shelter hundreds of people. The one I made was only meant to hold maybe two, or three? I don’t exactly remember my thought process nor the events of that day, only that it was an impulse I gave in to.

I would have to act much more thoughtfully today than I had in the past. And so I began meditating first, clearing my mind of superfluous and distracting thoughts. I went over the process, step by step, and made sure I hadn’t left anything out or misremembered anything important. Once I was sure I could move forward, I began creating the ash house. Essence was accumulated temporarily within my body until I felt I had reached my limit, and I shunted all of it into the planet’s crust, my fist encased in a rocky gauntlet for protection.

Cracks broke out across the ground, as gases and debris escaped their underground confines through the vents I had unwittingly created. A plume of lava erupted out of the ground, and I quickly took control of it, manipulating it with my nature magic into an even circular disk spinning high overhead. Luckily, there was a river nearby, so I introduced some of its waters to the lava, hardening the surface until the mixture formed something approaching obsidian, with the natural gases and my own essence adding structure to the formless blob of black stone. It took longer than expected, nearly two hours, but the finished product spoke for itself.

I decided not to change too much about it, as the addition of the water could already be seen as an unnecessary change, so the ash house looked about as accurate as the depictions of it in my books said. A nearly jet-black dome of stone, with a hardened base to prevent anything from burrowing from underneath or any natural pressure vents from building up too much and releasing everything inside. It was larger than I thought, at maybe a hundred feet tall and two hundred wide, able to comfortably house…..maybe fifty or sixty at most? It was underwhelming, for sure, when considering the population of the desert foxes was at least a hundred and fifty, but I couldn’t exactly tear it down and make an improved one.

By the looks on their faces, however, it was clear that ny misgivings I had about the ash house were solely in my head, as all of them displayed their reverence for what I had done in different ways. Some fell to their kness, crying. Some thanked the Mother for granting them this gift, and some came up to me personally and squeezed me tighter than any hug should have been.

Needless to say, I was drained from my efforts, and the chief, once he had recovered, thanked me profusely by offering his daughter’s hand in marriage, which I politely declined. A feast was non-negotiable, and would be held in the night as thanks, which I acquiesced to.

As the foxes entered the new structure, examining the bare stone dome and planning who would have the privilege of staying inside, I sat near its entrance, leaning against the ash house’s outer wall, eager to get out of the hot sun. Summer was almost here, which meant the Thundering tournament drew closer.

In the end, I had to postpone going till next year, or maybe even the year after that. I was more interested in seeing the desert, despite it being a natural death trap. Maybe I could ask the chief to accompany him on his next foray within? I doubted he would decline my request after what I had just done for him and his tribe. The structure would stand for at least three hundred years, as its materials and the environment would both keep it well preserved, unless an unlikely earthquake happened and brought it low.

“Maybe I’ll explore the desert first,” I said to myself aloud, believing no one else would take heed of my words, or give them any importance.

I was wrong.