Rather than stopping for rest that night, Muleater convinced the caravan master to harness the meohr back up, to affix lanterns on the wagons, and to keep everyone pushing forward. The drivers complained, the meohrs were whipped, and even some of the knights complained.

Now, while this would not ordinarily concern me, especially as I was riding rather than walking, there was a tiny, small, and hopefully insignificant issue. Muleater was basing this entirely unpopular decision upon what she heard from me.

And what a foolish decision that was, for several reasons:

One, Muleater had made clear that she placed no trust with me, but she was still deciding to make a drastic decision from solely my word. This was compounded from my point of view, as she made no secret of where her intelligence had come from.

Two, the so-called parasitic plant people, the wyrkwik, had yet to show themselves to the caravan; if it even was the wyrkwik, then these clearly were not malicious as they had let me through without harm; besides, last I saw the possibly-but-probably-not-wyrkwik, it had been at least a single day’s worth of travel between us and it already.

Though I supposed it could not be assumed that since they wyrkwik failed to attack the night previous that they would never do so.

Three, they could not determine that the creature I may or may not have hallucinated was or was not a wyrkwik.

And finally, four, they were taking a risk by traveling through the night, for the darkness was deep, and the route through the craggy wasteland treacherous.

But who was I to critique them? I had all the moral right to both critique and judge. Especially when I was getting nasty glares from the humans. To dispel the unease, I snorted, almost chortled.

At the sound, Larissen’s ears twitched. “Something amusing?” he asked.

He and his siblings had been watching what they could of the landscape, but even my eyes struggled to pierce far into the gloom. The lanterns actually hindered our night-eye, somewhat.

“Just wondering why the humans are driving through the night.”

Larissen’s ears twitched, and he gave me a glance that insulted my intelligence. “Was the report of mikuya not from your lips?”

Another word I failed to recognize, though I quickly made an assumption. “Mikuya, that is the Kaivan term for the wyrkwik?” I asked.

Larissen scoffed and shook his head, turning back to watching the gloom roll by. It was his brother Issen who deigned to answer.

“What would humans know?” he said in a raspy and faint voice, one that took all my focus just to hear and parse, almost a whisper. “What should be trusted, a close neighbor or a distant spy?”

I had to break down what he was saying, because as with moth Kaivan, their intent was not immediately clear. But if I understood what he was saying, it was that the Kaivan that deserved the privilege of naming the creatures, and not the humans, based solely upon proximity. And in a way, it made sense. The Kaivan should be more knowledgeable on the creatures, that was, if they shared a demesne.

“The mikuya then,” I said, quickly conceding the point to them and using their term. “What are the mikuya, and…”

“And why do the humans flee when none chase?” Kissen said from behind me, her breath tickling my ears.

“That.”

“The mikuya are the walking jungle,” Kissen answered plainly. “And if wise, then all flee when the mikuya come.”

“Why’s that?” I asked, somewhat surprised at the admission of pseudo-cowardice.

“The creatures are corruptive, spreading and infecting those venturing onto their lands.”

I was going to need more knowledge than that; I strongly regretted the language barrier between us, because this was difficult to parse, and I was certain I had misunderstood.

“Infecting?” I asked. “The plant creatures?” I asked, just to make sure we were still speaking of the same thing.

“If it is what was seen,” Issen said.

“But… how would they infect anyone, given that they’re… plants? Spores, maybe?”

“The creature the kitten saw–” Kissen referred to me, rejoining the conversation “-was the creature shaped as an animal, but covered in roots?”

I thought back to the memories and spoke as I tried to recall through the fever dreams. “Vines, or maybe roots? It’s foggy, but I thought it might have been a plant shaped like a meohr,” I said.

The meohr pulling the wagons looked the same, like almost pacified minotaurs.

“Likely this was a meohr, before becoming infested,” Kissen added.

I thought about that for a bit.

If I recalled correctly, the meohr, the bull person, had been covered by green pigment and white tendrils that grew in and out of its discolored flesh, and those tendrils flexed and drove each movement. That there was a species that could so radically alter or consume an otherwise benign humanoid draft animal… It left me with a growing gnawing pit of concern. So of course, I had to ask the next most relevant question.

“How?” I asked, my mouth and throat having gone dry, thinking the rest of my question should be obvious.

“Hm?” Kissen prompted, almost humming.

“How does it spread?” I asked once more, already taking an inventory of my flesh. For the first time, I was thankful that I had been stripped bare of clothing, as it made the inspection quicker, and I could rely on the fact that obvious discolorations would have already been sighted.

“These ones are unsure,” Issen confessed.

“None of those who enter their lands have discovered this–”

“-of those that have returned, anyway,” Larissen added, chuffing at a joke that I missed.

“Is it by disease?” I asked, after struggling for a way to ask of the details regarding viral and bacterial infection.

“Perhaps,” Issen said with a shrug. “But those infected seldom leave the mikuya lands. These creatures are territorial. And if sapient, then the mikuya are isolationist in the extreme.”

“Are they only found in the jungles?” I asked. Wondering what they were doing up north, hoping that I had not been in close proximity to a contagious vector.

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

“South is what was so thought,” Issen answered. “But perhaps those thoughts are wrong.”

“Why would they even be up here?” I asked, still not figuring it out, and attempting to cling to a false hope that it was somehow not the mikuya I had encountered. “And why would they let me leave?”

I just barely refrained from mentioning again how the possible-mikuya provided me aid, as I did not wish to draw attention to possible sympathies between a perceived antagonistic force and myself.

“Why here?” Kissen mused. “It is hard to imagine that anyone would choose to live in the wastes like this when lush vegetation exists to the south.”

Larissen spat. “Any lands the Qari touch are like this. Perhaps the creatures wish to reclaim the life of the land. This one doubts the mikuya could worsen these lands.”

A distracting thought was most welcome.

It seemed the Kaiva blamed the humans for the ecological disaster that surrounded us. Without a way to verify that claim one way or another, I could only say that there was a correlation between humans and the wastes, at least so far as the Kaiva were concerned. This would be information for later. Currently, it meant there were racial tensions between the Kaiva and humans, which was corroborated by the fact that they were in a prison wagon and collared like animals.

Though still, If the humans shattered the land, then I could believe it, because it would hardly be the first ruining.

There was another question I wished to ask, one that would help me decide where to travel once I stole back my freedom. The issue with asking it, however, was that it could destroy some of the sympathies I had been developing between the Kaiva and myself. But the temptation was growing to ask, my curiosity increasing, and if I asked carefully, I would likely avoid hurting my relationships with them overly much.

So I decided to risk asking.

“Are the Kaivan so different from the humans?” I asked.

“What?” Larissen spat. “Why?”

“Kitten?”

A pained chuckle was all Issen added.

“In regards to the land. Kaiva has trees? Do they not harvest them? Do they not have factories of their own?”

“They, Kitten?” Kissen scolded. “It was not simple industry that caused this disaster called the shattering. It was the humans and their greed for power, to steal from the spirits to sate their maw.”

This would then tie back into their religion, I was sure. Similar to a ‘great flood’ or a ‘heavenly war’ then. Perhaps the humans were not at fault after all.

But another point occurred to me, once again. It had been subtle, but Kissen scolded me for two things. One, for using a human pronoun in an otherwise Kaivan sentence. And another, for separating myself from the Kaivan, in using ‘they.’

The fact that Kissen was willing to argue the opposite, that I was of Kaiva, was too good of an opportunity to let pass. I needed to take advantage of it.

Letting doubt leak into my voice, “I’m still not sure I’m a Kaiva,” I said. “How could I be, if I know nothing of the people?” I tried to mimic their inflections when they themselves referred to the Kaiva people. I was only partially successful, but I think I hit it close enough.

“No kitten is born knowing,” Issen scoffed.

Perfect.

“I look so different, though,” I protested falsely. “And I mangle the tongue,” I added on.

“But what else would Kitten be?” Kissen asked, amused. “Your ears are sharp, tail is long, claws and maws,” she almost sang. Perhaps a verse from a Kaiva nursery, I theorized.

But even if she was being humorous, the fact she was arguing was good. It was excellent.

This cemented the empathy they felt towards me. But other than my manipulations, and the opportunity that fell into my lap, I really did take a chance to examine what they were saying.

While I had no chance to really examine myself in a mirror, she had some points, but she also missed some things. The Kaiva were definitely feline in nature, with shorter muzzles and long agile tails. They were far away from the color lilac, and my tail was far bushier at the end than theirs. I thought I might be more of a canine than them, or fox like. But in the end, these little differences hardly mattered in comparison of us to a human.

And… and I needed to come to terms with my appearances. To do otherwise would be a weakness. Even if it pained me.

I was covered in fur. I had a tail that was absurdly long and fluffy. My fingers ended in claws, and so did my toes, but I only had four toes on the front, and a fifth toe on the back. I had a strange ankle and foot joint, my hips were shaped differently. My ears were on top of my head and long. The muzzle was strange, with sharp teeth and a narrow tongue, and my nose in the wrong spot, just like a dog’s. Fortunately I still had hair, but it was far shorter, and silkier than it should have been, and it was a deeper purple. But the worst difference was my chest. I no longer had breasts. My chest was flat, and my nipples lined my stomach, with six of them, three on each side. Just thinking of that left me feeling ill, but I needed to come to terms with my new reality, otherwise I would never have a chance at changing it.

The silence grew heavy after that, all of us lost in thought, except Issen who snored.

While we traveled, an orange glow lit one hillside to the west. It was not the sun, nor any heavenly body, but one of the many oil fires that pervaded the land. Against that glow though, I saw what might have been a silhouette.

A familiar one.

A meohr, with branches growing from its shoulders. It was the same, or similar, to the one from my fever dreams. A possible-wyrkwik, or mikuya, depending on the language.

And it was seemingly waving at me.

The caravan continued moving, and within fifteen seconds we passed the point where it was hidden behind another stone.

I expected one of the knights to have seen. I expected an alarm.

But when no alarm was sounded, I began to doubt the vigilance of the humans. My eventual escape might be even easier to carry out–assuming we even reached our destination. With the incompetence of the guards on full display, I began to have my doubts that we ever would arrive.

As I thought, I noted that there was still no alarm from the knights.

Nobody else had seen the creature then.

But it had waved. Had it been for me? But if so, then what was the message?

I considered alerting the caravan, but quickly decided against it. They were fearful of the mikuya, and they might think I had some form of collusion with the mikuya. Besides, would they even believe me?

I nudged Kissen. She lazily swatted at the air and rumbled, though her eyes remained shut. I nudged her again, just a little harder.

“Mwhaa?” she asked, sitting up and looking at me expectantly.

I might not have thought this through. But then again, I was beginning to build a profile for Kissen, and I thought this would work.

“A few minutes ago I saw the same mikuya from before, I think,” I said in a low voice.

Her eyes widened and she hissed. “For certain?”

“Looked like a meohr made from plants. It was in the distance though, and only a silhouette. Hard to be sure.”

“What was it doing?”

“Just watching,” I said. I left off the part where it waved.

“Scouting, but being obvious with it. Why… ?”

Her eyes landed on my arms, where my Marks rested. Her ears perked up, along with her eyebrows.

I could roughly follow her train of thought. If a species was acting abnormally, then look for abnormal causes.

My ‘Marks’ counted as abnormal. It seemed both she and I were thinking the same, for she asked, “Who marred Kitten’s flesh?” referring to the tattoos on my forearms. “This one knows you have not answered, but tell this one true, was it the mikuya?”

Finding it no longer made a difference, at least not if we were attacked. Besides, Kissen was adamant I answered, and she could likely smell deceit. I had nothing to gain by lying currently, and I doubted she would rat me out to the humans. So I took a slight risk, and I gave a limited and truthful answer.

“I don’t know who,” I answered. “But who are you calling marred?” I was perhaps not arrogant or narcissistic, but nobody enjoyed hearing their appearances were marred, even if they happened to be a freak.

“Among the Kaiva, the Spirits are held in esteem, not the fallen gods.” She hissed when she mentioned the gods, the distaste evident upon her face. “Marks such as these are only received from these fallen gods, or from the mutilations the furless so adore.” She paused, then just to make it abundantly clear, in case I missed it. “Not of Kaiva.”

“So truth… Kitten does not know?” Kissen asked once more.

I hummed a bit with trepidation, before once more, repeating my answer, but perhaps giving away just a slight bit more.

“I’m not sure how I got these,” I said. “But it might have been mikuya, I guess. I know they saw me, and saw my marks. But does that sound like them? I don’t know the creatures well, but from what you and your siblings told me, I find it difficult to believe that they would empower outsiders.”

“This makes sense,” she said. “Perhaps, even if not the source, there is still interest in your abilities…”

“Regarding the possible mikuya, what should we do?” I asked.

After a moment's pause, she chuffed. “Nothing. Let the Furless taste the fury of the jungle if it comes. Slavers deserve nothing less.”

Just then, Issen growled, “Quiet please. This one’s rest is disturbed.”