As I walk back to the small clearing where the children were kept, I feel what little exhaustion I had been feeling lift. Ah, that ratman must have died, and I must have gotten a level for it. The children had all climbed down from their ladders and were standing around the ring of light.

“Thank you, uh...” One of the Ir children says, “I’m sorry, I’ve never seen something like you.”

“I’m a human. From Earth.”

“Hue-man? Erf?”

“Good enough.”

Each of the children have a variety of injuries on them; the worst of which was the child that had fallen out of the tree. Its arms were torn up in small red streaks, and a few twigs and thorns had embedded themselves in its arms and torso.

“Let’s get those out of you, alright?”

The small creature nods as I delicately work to remove the foreign objects from its body. It winces at every pull and tug as fresh blood stains its white-gray fur. Once all of the thorns are out of its body, I tap its forehead with my wand. It winces as if expecting a wave of pain. Its squeezed eyes open up as soon as the healing mana flows through it.

“Thank you Hue-man.” The creature says with a broad smile on its catlike face.

In turn, I make sure to heal each and every one of the children there. They pepper me with questions that I don’t know how to answer. Where was, ‘erf,’ how am I supposed to tell them it is a different world? I learn their names; the Ir that had fallen off the tree was named Ik, and the one who called out their name was named Bal. The four deermen, (the ‘Mit,’ as they referred to themselves), were named Li (pronounced Lie), Mi (pronounced Me), Torus, and Mof, (pronounced almost like moth).

“Do one of you know how to row the boats?”

“I do! I do!” The largest of the children; Torus, who had spotted brown fur, and whose antlers were just starting to come in, said.

“Can you lead them to the first island over there?” I point down the river toward the island where all the rest were gathered, “There are others like you and other humans there.”

“Where the waterfalls are?”

“Yes.”

“I can do that!” The young deer boy puffs out his chest.

Before they depart I gather the weapons and what armor I could scavenge from the dead and put it in their skiff.

“Give these to the people there,” I tell the kids.

“Yes, uh...sir or ma’am!” The boy makes a mock salute by slamming his fist into his chest and bucking the air with his budding horns.

“You’re not coming with us?”

“No, I’m going to free the other people held on the islands first,” I tell the young Ir that I had caught.

You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

“You’re going over there?” Her large blue eyes dart to the silhouette of the next island looming in the darkness.

“I am.”

“No one comes back from there, though!”

“I will.” I assure her, “Now go with the others and stay safe, okay?”

I pat the top of the kid’s head and push it toward the boat.

“Okay...bye.” The Ir child boards the skiff, and it sets off.

I stay to watch, just in case the kid was bluffing. Once I see the boat set off on a straight course, I go on my way with the remaining boat. I push off in the direction of the fourth island. This one, much like the first one, has a mountain jutting out of its edge, encircling it like a bowl. The only entrance, and the only exit, is through the channel carved by this river. A watchtower, much like all the others, watches over this section of the river. I give one strong, push, hide, and wait for the arrow.

Thunk.

There we go.

As the boat is pulled to shore, a dank miasma floats into the cradle of the boat. Breathing it in burns my lungs. Smoke? Poison? Whatever it was I had to get it away from me. I hold my breath until the boat bumps against the shore.

“Stupid kids probably bumped it again.” Came the annoyed grumble of the guard, “Now I have to take it back. Again. Going to scour the one that did it. Probably that damned brute of a Mok. Tear off his antlers...”

The annoyed dogman climbs into the boat and picks up the oar. A piece of cloth is wrapped around its face; probably so it doesn’t breathe in the poisonous air. I step out of the shadow cast by the bow of the ship and shift into my human form.

The boat shifts at the added weight, and the creature turns around. I grab hold of it by the temples with one hand, rip off the cloth from around its mouth, and shove it into my pocket.

“Who —”

It immediately begins to hack and cough as it takes in a lungful of the poisonous air. To answer its question I toss it from the boat and into the airborne river. It continues to cough as it tries to swim through the viscous waters. Poison and water fill its lungs as it sinks below the surface. I catch a glimpse of its still body tumbling out of the bottom of the river as I tied its mask around my own face. I was ready to kill it if it made any noise, but the fact that it died in the river? All the better. I put my wand back in my pocket, and step off the boat.

The grass here is brittle; breaking off into clouds of indigo dust with every step. As it brushes against the soles of my feet, it burns a little as if I were stepping over patches of stinging nettle. If it hurt me just being on this island, what about others? “No one ever comes back,” eh? I could see why. Eventually, the burning stops. Was I becoming accustomed to the poison, or maybe I got a new, ‘poison resistance,’ skill? That would be neat.

Despite the atmosphere, there was plenty of activity on this island; though it was at a distance, and I could only pick up fragments of it on the wind; the sound of pained groans, and the sounds of bubbling liquids. It wasn’t long before I come across the first group of people, and it was a horrific site.

In this small encampment was a table, on the table was one of those poisonous flying squirrel creatures that the dog and ratmen brought into the hunting lodge by the door out; its quills had been pulled out, and dipped in its own poison. These quills were then mixed with a powder, I assume, which was made from the grass that grew here.

These quills were then inserted into the skin of the people strung up on small posts, with leather straps around their wrists, keeping their arms extended, and keeping their feet barely brushing against the ground.

Both humans and Efrans hang side by side. About three each. On the humans, where these quills were inserted; into the veins of the arms, and the neck right above the artery there, purple lines spread out, and gathered together in a large, purple blot in the middle of their chest, where the heart would be. All of the hair of both the humans and the hanging Efrans were light gray; like someone who had been put under enormous stress. I hurry over to the first human I see and feel his cheeks with my hand. Cold. Clammy. Still. The young girl hanging next to him is the same; her hair, however, still held a little bit of the gold that would no doubt still be shining on Earth if I had just been a little bit quicker.

My fists tremble as I clench and unclench them. I hurry further inland. Perhaps, just perhaps, I could still save someone.