The sun had started to set over the mountains, the trees softly swaying, songbirds growing silent as the evening threatened its arrival. Somewhere beneath the forest canopy, a foreign presence made itself known.

Shuffle shuffle, shuffle shuffle—Andy’s steps came in clumsily as he dashed through the thick of the wood. Rattled breaths echoed from tree to tree, branches snapping in rhythm, the boy doing his best to outrun his pursuers.

His soft head of ginger hair was matted from days on the run, the beating of his bangs against his eyes a constant reminder of the passing days without rest. Bags beneath amber-hued irises made the boy appear aged and weathered, and though he yearned, he could not tire yet—not when he had a cult hot on his trail.

Like a hunted animal, he spent his time looking over his shoulder, scanning behind him for the distant shouting zealots. Andy wondered what he had done to provoke such ire—though perhaps he already knew the answer, deep down—he was a monster, or at the very least, was in the process of becoming one.

For three long weeks a gradual change had overtaken the boy, his deep wounds healing, his eyes growing discolored. His hands had grown calloused, his fingers having sharpened into insidious claws. Soon enough, he figured, he would be sauntering about the woods, not as himself, but as some mindless beast, a cruel reflection of the thing which attacked him.

As he trudged along, the forest canopy above Andy began to divide the sky, obscuring the stars that had once been his intermittent companions. The earthy scent of pine and damp soil was rich. His vision had never been the greatest, though as of late, it did not matter what lens the child viewed the world in—it was all obscured, dizzying, seeming to grow dull and mute. Andy’s senses, though sharp, were all but drowned out by the buzz of the woods, let alone his own labored breathing. Every little sound was overstimulating, overwhelming.

Crr-SNIK!

The sharp crackle of underbrush sent Andy wheeling around, his ears twitching as they honed in on the sound.

BOUF!

Before he could comprehend the rushing blur, he was forced to the ground, the damp earth pressing against his cheek. The offending figure loomed, not one of the zealots—rather, a girl with tough, marred skin and coiled purple hair had pressed her knee against his spine. Her emerald eyes demanded submission.

The tip of the girl’s silver knife burned like a hot skillet, drawing blood from the back of Andy’s neck—he responded with little more than short gasps and yelps, his will to fight rapidly ebbing away. No words, no protests, only a quiet concession of defeat as his arms went limp. The girl needn’t words to convey her intent—her iron grip on his wrists and the snug vines she’d tied him with both spoke loud and clear.

With a firm hand, she hoisted Andy back onto his knees, onto his feet, and with one shove after the other, the two proceeded to march further into the unknown of the woods. Uncertain thoughts plagued the boy’s mind. Had he done something to upset the local? Had he been trespassing?

“I’m s-sorry, I was only tryin’ to pass through,” Andy sputtered, “I’ll be out of your hair if you just let me go, I promise!” Of course, his continued objection only led the girl to tighten her arm bar. Pointing to a nearby clearing with her knife, Andy following the upturned edge, the two could spot a small treehouse just ahead. The structure was semi-organic in appearance, bits of the house jutting directly out from various points of the oak, as if the building had been created from the trunk itself. Twisting vines accompanied pink blossoms on the walls, creating rungs with their intersecting patterns of growth.

The captor grabbed Andy's wrists and bound them tightly with rough vines, securing them to a sturdy wooden post. She then climbed up the base of the towering tree, leaving Andy to struggle against his restraints. Reaching the deck, one of the girl’s hands twisted, two fingers pressing toward the sky. Before he could protest his placement, Andy found the post he’d been tied to shooting up from the ground, carrying him to the treetops along with it.

The ride jerked to a stop, Andy’s arms throbbing from the pull, feeling as though they’d nearly been yanked out of their sockets. The girl, expressionless, yanked him off the post and onto the platform without a word. He stumbled forward, trying to catch his breath and regain his balance. Not allowed even a moment, Andy found himself being shoved right into the wooded building.

The interior reminded Andy of home, one framed painting hung from the oak walls, a number of wonderfully sweet-smelling flowers adorning the windowsills. In the main room sat three colorful bean bag chairs and a large stump for a table. A rustic looking radio played familiar show-tunes dubbed in an unfamiliar tongue. Above it, a large cabinet filled with wooden dishes and cutlery cast a shadow over the northern side of the home.

Dwelling at the edge of the shadow was a giant of a man, round specs glaring off the setting sun, a smoldering pipe hung from his lips. His silhouette against the waning light was unmistakably monstrous. This was someone—or something—else entirely.

Though he appeared to be a man, well dressed and draped in a high-collared coat, his lower half, which he’d been using as a seat, was entirely that of a large serpent, its dull yellow scales glistening as the tail gently flexed and coiled. His pointy ears stuck out far past the bounds of his head of chestnut hair. His skin, an olive tinge of green, was strangely soft. As the man stroked his goatee and knelt before the boy, Andy whiffed cherry-scented tobacco masking the underlying reptilian scent.

"Steady, boy," the man's voice was smooth and low, yet carried a tremendous amount of weight and authority as the outside noise seemed to grow ever still. The dusk paused, the wood holding its breath outside as the giant man removed his specs and folded them away. His golden, slitted eyes glistened with intensity as they took in Andy’s features—the boy himself felt rather compelled to be still for the time being.

"Were you followed ‘ere?" The man asked.

“I don’t know,” Andy responded. “I think. Earlier. I think I lost them.”

The man’s intense eyes squint. “Lost them? Lost who?”

“Uh-” Andy paused and swallowed. “I reckon…I dunno, sir? They was real strange folk, all dressed in shinin’ armor.”

The man’s posture eased. He signaled to the girl.

"Alright, you had your fun. Why dontcha let him go, now?”

Andy could feel the grip on his wrists stiffen, though without a word of protest beyond an annoyed glare, she waved her hand and loosened the bindings.

“You can call me Mr. Hudson, boy, Solomon J. Hudson,” Andy flinched the moment Hudson offered him a welcome hand, though he politely returned the gesture as he’d been raised. He found Hudson’s grip incredibly firm, as he did his best to squeeze back—a nervous, fang-filled grin spread on his face.

“Ah—Andy, sir. Andy Kessler.”

Hudson looked up to the girl and nodded. “That there’s Ms. Tanya O’Mally—she don’t talk much.”

“Pleased to meet ya.” Andy said. Tanya sneered in response. The boy further frowned.

“Say Mr. Kessler, I reckon we got off on the wrong foot, as it were. I’d say I owe you quite the apology.” Fixing his glasses back on his face, Hudson looked back down. “Why don’t you take a seat? We can have a nice little chat, you an’ me – get you settled.”

“Sir?” Andy muttered.

“Mm?”

“I mean no offense or nothin’,” Andy mumbled while his eyes studied Hudson’s serpentine features. “I’m just not too sure that’s a good idea, with all that’s happenin’ to me. Or whatever’s happenin’ to you for that matter.”

Hudson stared, scoffed, and then laughed at the boy’s out-of-pocket observation. Hands now resting firmly on his hips, the man shook his head and asked, “Mr. Kessler, are you at all familiar with your condition?”

“No, sir.” The boy answered with an unsure wave of his hairy hand. One ear bent toward Andy, Hudson uttered another guess.

“You ever hear of Werewolves, Mr. Kessler?”

His eyes went wide—Andy had his suspicions already, this only served to further strengthen them. Hudson responded with a gentle sigh. The man slithered back and forth, hands folding behind his back, words slow and soft. Andy watched him closely the whole time, still anticipating a strike should his guard falter in the slightest.

“You know, Mr. Kessler, I’m sure whatever changes you’re going through at the moment are plenty frightening,”

“You don’t know the half of it,” Andy replied shortly. Hudson circled the boy, softly hissing.

“Enlighten me.”

“It’s not a good idea,” Andy repeated. “I mean, we ain’t even the same kinda—”

“Let me tell you something, Mr. Kessler,” Hudson interrupts, hands waving energetically in explanation. “Thirty-four of my years, I’ve spent ‘ere, meetin’ and greetin’ all kinds of fine, fascinatin’ folk like yourself. I’ve seen my fair share of strange things, boy, and let me tell you, your little condition is the least among them.”

Slowing to a halt, Hudson turned his head slightly toward Andy. “You a runaway, Mr. Kessler?”

Andy swallowed, nodding his head.

“So what’s the plan, then? You gonna…hike in the woods til’ the end of your days?”

“...S’pose so,” Again, he gave little more than an uncertain grunt and a nod. Hudson nodded back, smiling, though his expression oozed cynicism. The giant was plenty amused, if not a little sorry, for the child’s naivety. Tanya once again rolled her eyes.

“Mmm. I’ll tell you what, why don’t we start with something small. There’s a city, not too far from ‘ere. We can head there, I get you some food, a glass of water, and we talk for a little bit. You still feel uncomfortable with my help, why I’ll say you’re free to go on your merry way.”

The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

Hudson patiently awaited an answer. Quietly, and with a tinge of imminent regret, Andy slowly nodded his head—he figured wherever they were going with this, whether it led to his benefit or untimely demise, it would be over soon.

“Alright,” he said. “Show me this town of yer’s.”

…

The group plodded along a mildly-beaten path, quickly, quietly, as Hudson attempted to make small talk all the while. Andy was hardly receptive; Tanya would not care either way, if it meant longer periods of unbroken silence.

Straying a few paces from the cabin, the group came across a dead end, a long stretch of cave tunneling through the mountain. It was filled to the brim with thick, thorny bramble, as tough as the stone surrounding it.

“Could you do the honors?” Hudson gestured toward the vines, and Tanya planted her calloused palms onto the thorns.

Immediately, the branches shrieked and retreated into the mountain. Andy couldn’t help but shiver as he witnessed the tunnel being exhumed of bramble, light pouring in through the other side and casting eerie shadows across its cratered surface. He wondered if he was dreaming—but reality continued to give him firm reinforcement.

“Quickly now, boy,” said Hudson as he gave Andy a pat on the back. “The spell only lasts a few minutes. Would hate for you to be plant-food.”

Tanya would remain behind—she shot Andy a look of crude affirmation. Go on ahead, wolf boy.

Surely, he could not be in safer hands.

With haste, Andy trotted alongside his giant guide, carefully watching his every step as to not get snagged by one of the still-retreating roots or the cavities left in their wake. Further and further along as they went, the two found themselves cloaked more in darkness, the only light being cast pooling in from the other side. Andy noticed that even now, the vines behind them had begun to once more close in—he could not help but come along even faster after that.

The lengthy path eventually gave way to another opening, on the other side of the mountain pass, one that fed into a great and colorful valley untouched by the outside world. Surrounding the vast valley on all sides were tall, tall mountaintops, capped in frost and snow. Obscured by these peaks to the outside world, Andy saw the outline of many strange shapes flying above the treetops. Colorful and otherworldly—kites, he’d initially thought, until one of the scaly beasts swooped in overhead. It ignored Andy’s cry of terror, rolling its fiery eyes as it continued into the valley.

From the soaring, scaly beasts to the heart of the valley below, Andy’s gaze would effortlessly drift. Nestled among the verdant embrace of nature lay an odd building or two, or three, or…goodness, about a few hundred—there was a whole city down there.

“Well c’mon, then,” Hudson beckoned. “Ya wanna see it up close or not?”

Did he? It was all so overwhelming already—could that bumpkin brain of his really handle any more? Ah, heck, he thought. Maybe I’d get to see one of them dragons up close.

Begrudgingly trudging along, the sounds of the valley grew clearer—the babble of a river, the distant chatter of the locals, and the occasional blood-curdling screech just beyond the treeline. Reaching the riverbank, Andy spotted an enormous, worm-like beast resting idle in the water. Its mouth, large enough to swallow a small sailboat, remained passively open. Its beady, black eyes were lifeless, motionless, yet hungry.

Atop the creature was a large saddle or carriage, which boasted some rather comfortable looking leather seats—cup holders, too, should one be inclined to have a drink. Once aboard himself, Hudson offered Andy a hand up.

“I…ain’t never seen one of those before. What is it?” the boy asked before attempting to board.

"This is Merryweather, swiftest bolter in the valley,” Hudson said. “She's a gentle giant, now, don’t you worry. She’ll get us downtown in no time at all.”

A bolter? He’d have to write that one down later.

With a mixture of trepidation and excitement, Andy accepted the man's hand and clambered onto Merryweather's back. The creature’s skin was uncomfortably smooth to the touch, despite its rugged, earthy appearance.

The bolter shifted slightly in response to the boy’s scrambling, a deep, rumbling purr resonating from its massive body. Andy quaked about as much in response, be it out of fear, wonder, or a volatile mixture of both.

The two settled in their soft leather seats as Hudson cracked the great reins of the saddle. Merryweather groaned with annoyance, and began to coast itself along the shore, eventually pushing off into the deeper waters.

The stream sharply dipped, the bolter plummeting down the tongue of the crashing white rapids. Andy, between his flinching and iron grip on the seats, could see dozens of fish being swept from their upstream journeys and into Merryweather’s gullet. What a scary thought, getting swept up in that thing’s mouth. The boy figured it best to look on ahead, for now, at the rapidly encroaching take-out.

Sploouusssh!

The waters crashed all around them, the wide river bed giving way to Merryweather’s girth. Hudson happily slapped his sides with an entertained hoot, whereas Andy found himself hurling over the edge of the carriage—hopefully not into some poor sod’s hair.

Sirens who were stationed at the riverbanks leapt into the waters around the worm, sporting bright orange vests and singing their sweet lullabies. Merryweather’s hook-like tail fins eagerly smashed into the waters as she redirected herself toward the sounds.

The bolter and its passengers were ushered along, down a now brick-laden stream, the surroundings growing more urban by the second. Andy glanced at the metallic street lamps, which dazzled brilliantly with the glow of many tiny, bored looking Fae. He wondered if they were there by choice.

Harpies dressed in wooly vests would swoop overhead, paper bags of groceries held in their beaks. Winged folk were not the only ones with the privilege of the skies—many who found themselves without the natural advantage would be seen riding atop mighty chimera, boasting massive wings as muscular as their bear-like limbs.

It seemed the river would come to a halt here. The bank transitioned into a sidewalk, and with the sidewalk came storefronts. A tall, unfenestrated complex stood immediately to the right, another building stirring up a smokey smell to the left.

Nothing but granola bars for three days—Andy was hungry for some real food.

“Mr. Hudson?” Andy asked.

“Mr. Kessler?”

“...You think we could stop and get somethin’ to eat, too?”

The man laughed.

“Sure, m’boy. Follow me.”

After passing beneath a cobblestone bridge, Andy beheld a charming farmers market bustling with all manners of folk. A mummified Grim sampled spiced meats at an energetic Imp’s food stand. An insectoid Xita, with their bulging, cyclopean eye, gazed hungrily at the sizable fruits and veggies on display.

Andy’s eyes were set on one thing—the stand boasting three hot pots of fresh stew. Both him and Hudson approached, Andy getting a ladle of chicken wild rice soup for the road. Hudson handed some coin over to the Bunyip running the joint, and the two were on their way.

“Alright, up and ‘attem.” Hudson said with an enthusiastic wave of the hand. “We’ve still got a ways to go.”

As they hobbled along, Andy noted the few folk that looked like him—hairy, homeless, hungry and hopeless, covered in scruffy and scrappy features alike. A scant few others bore similarities to Hudson, their massive Gorgon tails lugging tens of feet behind themselves, their forked tongues lashing at the air with hearty laughter.

A palish-blue teenager would casually float by, raising a brow at his disheveled peer. A small smirk crossed his fang-lined lips, as he raised a camera which had been strung around his neck.

K-Chk! FLASH—!

Like a grenade of light, the camera went off into Andy’s already-sensitive eyes, sending him into a blind tizzy for but a moment.

Oof.

He’d run into something firm, spilling soup all over this…tree trunk covered in bristly hair. When Andy’s vision came to, he found himself looking up at a twenty-foot man—a Sasquatch. As Andy found himself breaking into a sweat, the bigfoot simply regarded him with a bemused smile.

“O-oh,” Andy stuttered. “‘Scuse me, sir!”

The giant laughed. “No worries, little man.”

As the boy regained his bearings, Hudson clicked his tongue a couple times. Hmm? Andy stood at attention and turned, following his guide’s pointer finger to the visual just ahead; a grand brutalist structure with stained glass windows looming up above. Its centerpiece was like an all-seeing eye peering into the city. The boy could feel its judgemental gaze pouring down on him, piercing his soul.

“This’s city hall, my boy,” Hudson declared. “Quite a sight, if I do say so myself—that's where we’re gonna be conductin’ our little investigation,”

Suddenly, Andy could feel the giant’s scarily strong hand atop his shoulder, squeezing tight. Hudson leaned down, forked tongue flicking from betwixt his lips, a grin spread wide on his square face.

“...And where you, my friend, are gonna be startin’ your new life.”

…What?

Yeah—Andy supposed it made sense. Couldn’t go home in the state he was in, but—surely, surely in a place as magical as this,

Surely there was a way out of it.

“Sir?”

“Mhm?”

“Again, I really don’t plan on stayin’ too long,”

Hudson would raise a brow.

“Oh, I know you didn’t,” He replied. “But life’s full of curveballs, ain’t it?”

“No, no, you ain’t listenin’. I don’t want to stay here. I want to figure out what’s wrong with me, I wanna figure out how to fix it and I wanna go home.”

Hudson’s laid-back expression grew somewhat tight as he took a long drag from his pipe.

“It ain’t so simple, son.”

“Please, Mr. Hudson. You wouldn’t happen to know nothin’ ‘bout a cure, would you?”

The man just about choked on his smoke.

“Look ‘ere, Mr. Kessler. You best get that notion out of your head. There ain’t no cure for what you’ve got, and you ain’t goin’ back home. End of story.”

“End of story?” Andy stepped in front of Hudson as his hand reached for the doorknob. “I can’t stay here, sir, I’ve—I’ve got a whole life ahead of me, I’ve got family waitin’ for me back home–!”

“And yet, you ran away.”

The boy went stiff as a board—Hudson steepled his fingers as he leaned in.

“You ran away ‘cause you thought you was dangerous, am I right boy?”

Andy nodded slowly.

“See, boy, that world you come from, the Human world, it ain’t built for folks like us. You’ve seen what happens for yourself, yeah? When our worlds clash? What you are, what you’ve become, it ain’t changing, trust me. There ain’t always an answer, son. Sometimes the only way out is through. When opportunity knocks, you gotta open that door.”

“An’ what kind of opportunity is this? Gettin’ torn from my folks, havin’ to live in some—some kinda nightmare town?!” Andy’s heart fluttered as he raised his voice. Hudson, indifferent, gave little more than a tired scoff.

“The way I see it, you’ve got two choices—you can either stay, learn a thing or two about your condition, learn how to control it and become a productive member of our little ‘nightmare,’” Hudson leaned down, face to face with the boy. “Or, you could go back out there, into them woods, hunted for sport by them knights. You could try to blend back in, you could try and hide what you is, but someday that mask is gonna slip. You really want to risk the same thing happenin’ to someone else—risk hurtin’ your family? You don’t wanna be a monster now, do you, boy?”

Head lowering, Andy could feel a familiar sting welling up beneath his eyes. Despite his best efforts, an overwhelming sense of defeat washed over him. There really was no good option here, was there?

Andy felt as though he struck a particular nerve—what it may have been had him now deathly curious—but there hadn’t been a beat to linger on the thought. The two did not spend long dawdling on unbroken silence, as Hudson would open the front door, standing off to the side.

“After you, Mr. Kessler.”