“We get them a lot,” Amber said as she stuffed another cookie into her mouth.

For such a small and thin woman, she sure did eat a lot. We had just got done with dinner. And she had eaten almost as much as me. And I've always eaten more than others.

“They're called pagans. The church does not like them, nor do they want us to associate with them, which is why they request things in such odd ways,” Lughes explained.

“So... he's not a danger to us?” I asked.

“Most likely not. He probably just wants a painting of his god, this giant mouse thing,” Amber said as she eyed the plate of cookies that sat in the center of the table. Was she going to eat all of them? I was tempted to not have any, just to see if she could or not.

“Are there many paintings like that? Here? Can I see them?” I asked Lughes.

“Oh... there are. I'll show you later,” he said, excited.

Amber rolled her eyes, but said nothing. And not just because she had grabbed another cookie.

“Are there... lots of these pagans?” I asked another question, interested. It was a little odd, to find out that there were humans who worshiped people like us, or large animals... I mean... really?

Gods? Us?

“Oh indeed! Most used to be, until the churches grew so powerful. The church has slowly been proselytizing this world, and probably will get us all someday,” Lughes said.

The bearded goat chuckled, as if he himself had nothing to do with any of it. Not even the world, which he so obviously lived within.

“Most the wars lately have been over religion,” Amber said.

“Ah, they have been. In fact right now is some kind of siege, down south. Over a kidnapped saint,” Lughes said, as if remembering something he had just talked about with someone. Probably had.

“Saint?” I asked.

“My mother was a saint,” Amber said, with a cookie in hand.

Frowning, I wondered what that meant.

Lughes nodded, getting my attention. “A holy woman. The church uses them to display their power, or grant wealth,” he explained.

“For her it was a curse,” Amber though said.

I wanted to ask far more, but could tell by the way Amber bit into the next cookie that I shouldn't. She hadn't even chewed that one.

“So... how many of our kind are there? Or how many do you know?” I asked Lughes.

The goat scratched his beard, and I heard the odd sound as he did so. It really was more wool than anything else.

“Hm...” he pondered something for a moment, but before he could decide on what to say Amber grumbled something.

“Wait... you haven't explained the society to her yet?” Amber then asked, nearly dropping her newly grabbed cookie.

“Oh! Oh... no, I'm so sorry,” Lughes startled, and I wondered why he was so odd. I hadn't thought goats, or sheep, to be so... air headed.

“He's been busy,” I said for him. I admit I was growing impatient and wanted to know all about it... but I also knew I had time. We all did.

Or well, those like us did.

“She's been here for a month already,” Amber spoke with a harsh tone, which told me she was annoyed not just for my sake but because this happened often.

Lughes was bad. He seemed to not only be scatterbrained but also forgot the urgency of stuff, sometimes. For a human, it was probably worse and far more annoying when he did so.

“Yes, well... We belong to the Non-Human Society,” Lughes then said.

“We do?” I asked.

“Well, you should. I don't know if you belong just yet,” Lughes said with a sigh.

“Do I need to pay or something?” I asked, smiling. I knew that wasn't the case, but it was a funny thought.

Amber snickered as she chewed another cookie. There were only a few left.

“No! Nothing of the sort... we just need to get you written into the ledgers. The tomes,” he said happily.

“What are those?” I asked.

“Just books. That have the names of those like you,” Amber said.

“Names...”

Lughes coughed, and went to grab a cookie. Before he could, Amber grabbed another. Lughes hesitated before he picked up his first cookie, and I smiled as he wearily took a bite of it. As if unsure if she'd snatch it from his hand or not.

Maybe she would, when taking into account that glare she had.

“It sounds fancy, but all it is are a bunch of your kind keeping in touch with each other. Writing letters, and stuff,” Amber then said.

“Are you part of it too?” I asked her.

“I am, but I'm a human,” she said plainly.

A human, in a supposed non-human group. Quaint.

“Most live alone. Families who live out in the middle of no-where. Others live like us, blending in. Some also live in whole villages. Not too far from here is a large village of foxes, one of my friends lives there. Kathrene,” Lughes said.

“Whole villages?” I asked, and was shocked to hear it. I hadn't thought it possible.

“There are a few villages with predators, but I'll be honest I don't know of any cats. You'd think there'd be quite a few of you, but in the end you are still predators,” Lughes said with a sigh.

Frowning, I wondered why he would say it that way. “What do you mean?”

“Predators die early, I guess. Something to do with the way you guys don't hide,” Amber said.

“Predators fight back,” Crane entered the room, carrying a plate. She placed it on the table, near Amber.

Another stack of cookies made Amber smile. It was a rare sight on her face, and I planned to eventually buy her similar snacks later. She'd probably give me such a smile if I brought them when she least expected it.

“You mean to the humans, don't you?” I asked.

“Well, yeah? What else will you fight with?” Amber asked.

“There used to be other things to fight,” Crane said as she took a seat at the table.

Amber's look told me she didn't know anything about it, and it didn't seem Crane or Lughes were in any mood to tell her.

“Those like us have an easier time blending in, and also living with the humans. Predators find it difficult, especially if they have to be subservient,” Crane explained.

“Ah... That does make sense,” I agreed. My parents had hated humans to the point that they had chosen death over asking them for help.

Those like me had a tendency to either live in solitude, or ended up with their backs to the wall.

We didn't run and hide when that happened. We stood and fought. We held our ground.

And obviously, like my parents...

We always lost.

“Which is why it's rare to see you. It's a sad thought, but you may be one of the last of your kind Renn,” Lughes said.

“Probably,” I said. It was a sad thought, but nothing that I wasn't used to thinking.

Amber groaned, sitting back to stretch. Did her stomach hurt? “Vim should be here soon. Just ask him. These two are too air headed to be of any use,” Amber then said.

“Oh! He will be won't he?” Lughes grew excited as he nodded, remembering.

“Him?” I asked.

“Vim,” Crane corrected. “The society's protector. He travels around checking in on everyone, and it's about time he comes here... in fact, he might even be a little late,” she said.

“He's not. He usually shows up as the snow begins to pile,” Lughes said.

“It has been. For a month,” Amber complained.

Lughes waved her comment away, which told me he hadn't actually noticed the snow yet.

Was he that old?

“How old are you?” I asked him.

“Hm? Hm...” His eyes went dull, as Crane snickered.

Sitting patiently, I wondered if he was older than me. He looked like it, but looks really didn't mean a whole lot when it came to our kind. Sometimes we looked young forever, other times we aged quickly...

“He's nearly four hundred years old,” Crane answered finally, when we all realized he wasn't going to remember.

Lughes tilted his head, as if he was wondering if she was correct or not.

“Is he really?” Amber groaned, staring at the old man sitting next to her.

“I must be. Shelldon is older. Probably why he sleeps so much,” Lughes said after a moment. I could tell by the way he smiled that he had abandoned all effort in remembering his actual age.

“Is he sleeping now?” I asked. Maybe that was why I hadn't met him yet.

“No,” was all Crane said.

Great. That meant he's been talking to them. He was just hiding from me.

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

Was I that scary?

“It's not really you, Renn. I've only met him once, and I'll be twenty in a few months,” Amber said.

“Twenty! So old!” Lughes said happily.

Amber smiled, but shook her head.

“I do remember her when she was a baby. That wasn't that long ago,” Crane said, nodding.

“Right! Vim brought her and her mother. All bundled up, wasn't she?” Lughes nodded, closing his eyes as if to relive the memory.

The one being talked about was silent, ignoring them both. She was more focused on the plate of cookies near her.

She couldn't possibly be...

She was able. It only took her a few bites to eat another.

Were they that delicious?

“So... Vim brought you here?” I asked her.

“He brought my mother. I was just a baby, not like I had a say in the matter,” Amber said, as if annoyed over it.

Annoyed, yet still lived here. Still stayed here, with them.

Smiling at her, I watched her grab another cookie... but this time she didn't go straight to eating it. “He's okay. At least he's a little more normal than these two,” she said as she pointed her cookie at Crane.

“Okay, she says. Don't let her lie to you, she absolutely hates Vim,” Crane said.

I sat up a little, since the way Amber's face contorted told me that Crane was telling the truth.

“You hate him?” I asked, and wondered why. Amber was a little... prickly sometimes, but she seemed like such a good-hearted girl. If she hated someone, there was probably a good reason.

“I don't! Not really... he's just...” she sighed, and I realized this was something that was talked about before. Maybe even in length.

“She doesn't like how dangerous he is,” Lughes said plainly.

“No! It's not that!” Amber tried to argue, and I wondered if she was blushing. It was hard to tell, with her skin tone.

“It's okay, Amber. He scares me sometimes too,” Crane said, nodding in agreement.

“I said it's not that!” Amber's voice became a little higher, as she tried to defend herself.

“He's dangerous?” I asked, and wondered why Crane was scared of him. Granted she had been a little scared of me when we had first met too, but that had been for obvious reasons. She was worried I was here to hurt her, or her family.

“Vim's a predator. Like you. It scares us sometimes,” Lughes said gently.

“Ah...” I understood, and wondered if that meant Crane and Lughes felt a small sense of discomfort around me.

That hurt more than Lughes saying I was the last of my kind.

“There's nothing to actually be afraid of though, he's our protector,” Crane said.

Lughes nodded, as Amber sulkily lowered her head, as if she hoped she'd be forgotten amidst the conversation and left alone for a while.

“What... what do you mean by protector? I get the meaning of the word but...” I didn't know exactly what I wanted to ask, but I felt like I needed to know.

“He protects us. When we need help, he gives it. He's stronger than we are, so he's able to fight for us if needed,” Crane said.

“If we needed a new home, he helps us find one. Or if someone needs protection, like if the church is trying to find them, he helps keep them safe and hidden,” Lughes added. As he spoke, I noticed the way he smiled. It was a genuinely warm smile, full of happy memories. He wasn't speaking about people or scenarios long forgotten, but something he himself remembered. Maybe his own past.

The smile looked a little weird on him, since his beard was so woolly, but... he was obviously prideful. And happy to be so.

It was... odd to see, but it made sense.

Only a sheep could take so much pride in being protected.

“Do you have a painting of him?” I asked.

The three went silent, and then looked at one another. Even Amber, who gently put down the cookie she had been about to eat had gone quiet.

“Hm?” I wondered if I had asked something bad. Were they not painting me, the same way they painted others they met? For the same reasons? So that all throughout the years, we'd not be forgotten, not truly?

“Well... actually...” Lughes perpetually aloof demeanor became rife with worry.

“He destroys them,” Amber said flatly.

She nodded as I looked at her. “If he sees any drawings or paintings of him, he burns or rips them up. He's very rude,” she confirmed.

Rude, I noted. She spoke from experience. Maybe this was why she hated him. Or at least, why others thought she did.

“I see,” I said, and decided to let it be.

Amber sighed, and then glanced at the two others at the table. “But... if you promise to keep it a secret,” she then said.

“Oh?” I grew excited. She had a new smile on her face. One I'd never seen before.

That was the face of a mischievous child. The kind that did exactly what they were told not to.

Amber nodded, and stood. “I'll be right back,” she said hurriedly.

The young woman hurried out of the room, and I heard her light footsteps as she climbed the stairs.

“So she has one, does she?” I asked, amused.

“Seems so. He really is adamant about not painting him, but I should have figured she'd have a few of him... if anything just to spite him,” Crane said with a small laugh.

The three of us smiled at each other, and the moment filled my heart with joy.

How I loved this. How I longed for this.

Maybe a few more moments like this, and I'd forget the many horrible moments that have recently plagued my dreams.

“Still, I am sorry Renn. For not telling you earlier,” Lughes apologized after a moment.

“It's fine. We have a lot of time, after all,” I said.

“We do. Amber does not though, and you should stop forgetting that Lughes,” Crane said with a warning.

The beard bobbed a little as he nodded gently.

“Is this society large? Are there enough of us... to last the years?” I asked.

“Almost enough. There are a little under a thousand, as far as I'm aware. Vim knows more. There are many who refuse to formally join the society so although they're a part of it, they're not known by others,” Lughes said.

“Ah... that's why you asked if I was sent here, for a painting,” I said.

He nodded. “Many of our older brethren come here, before their end, so that they can be remembered... one way or another,” Lughes said gently.

It was a little sad to hear, but I had expected it. After all... what other point was there to such paintings?

Yet... I wonder if that meant that I had looked like that to him. When we met.

Had I looked like someone about to die? Or at least, someone who had accepted that fact?

“And it is not easy. The paints are hard to make. The paper even harder. So we need to make money to be able to afford it. Then we also need to keep trained artists nearby, in case we need them... It's always so hectic,” Crane said with a huff, as if she hated how much effort it took.

“Thus the store,” I said, understanding.

Lughes nodded. “Still, it is fun is it not? There's always something to do. Always another scene to paint. Always another brushstroke,” Lughes said happily.

I agreed, but wondered if that was all it was. It was... a great purpose. A phenomenal lifestyle... but...

“Thank you. Both of you. For letting me in,” I said to them gently.

The two silently smiled at me, but said nothing. After all, nothing else needed to be said.

“Remember, don't tell Vim I have these!” Amber came back, carrying several large papers.

“I won't,” I promised, and watched with interest as she laid them upon the table. Crane had to move the few plates of cookies as she did, since she had practically dropped them.

Amber turned around the top sheet, which was a rather large drawing. It was done with a single color, and rather... rough. As if done hastily.

Studying the art, I watched as Lughes and Crane both grabbed other drawings, to study them themselves.

Most looked to be simple, but there were a few that were actually very detailed. Very well done. She was obviously a great artist, and it showed... even the most basic scene was...

Painted in dull colors, was the scene of a man sitting at what looked to be a windowsill. He was relaxed, and staring out the window at something. Only parts of the window, and the wall around it, were drawn... but the scene was obvious. He looked calm, and for all the world looked half asleep.

Another drawing, which was a little smaller, was similar. He was reading a book, lazily reading on a chair.

From sitting, to eating, to even shaving... her drawings all seemed to have a similar theme. The kind of theme that made it a little too obvious.

Was she infatuated with him? Maybe their earlier antics had been just that, simple teasing.

“Your tastes are obvious, Amber,” Lughes said with a chuckle.

“I don't like painting him doing bad things! He looks ugly when he fights,” Amber though didn't seem that embarrassed. If anything she seemed a little too calm.

Oh? Maybe she wasn't infatuated. Maybe this was just her method. Her taste in drawing rather than men.

Amber dug through some of the papers, and found what she was looking for. Pulling it out and placing it on top for all to see, I found the first heavily detailed scene I've seen of him.

It was a rather dark picture. Most of the drawing had been done in black paint, amidst darker grays and browns... and the bottom half of the painting was almost a solid color. Not because it was just a foundation, or border for another painting, but because of the things painted.

Corpses.

Carcasses. Of humans and beasts alike. They were mangled, and there were oddly graphic parts to the painting. They type that told me that she had most likely seen this scene herself. Most likely as it had happened. And it had left a lasting impression.

Standing on top of the pile of mangled bodies, was a smiling man. He bore a wicked smile, that somehow made my stomach churn.

It was the same man from all the other paintings, but there was something different about him. He wasn't drawn better, or worse, but...

“I remember this. Is that how he looked to you then? Fascinating,” Lughes though didn't seem bothered at all about the scene, as we all studied it.

Going off this painting alone, I would have not questioned their earlier assessment of her feelings for him.

This looked like a haunting nightmare. This scene had bothered the painter, to the point they had to draw it... at least, that's what I felt upon looking at it.

However... as cruel and wicked his smile were... as graphic and detailed as the mangled mess that piled beneath him, I didn't really see a man that was terrifying.

He didn't look nice, at least not in this painting, but he didn't look as scary as some of the monsters he stood upon.

“So... his name is Vim?” I asked.

“Some just call him the protector. But that's kind of silly,” Crane said.

“He... looks normal? Unless you chose to not draw his non-human characteristics,” I said, but found that a little silly. After all, she had also painted the very beasts beneath him.

“He does. As far as I'm aware he looks perfectly human,” Crane said.

Human indeed. He looked average. The kind of average that if I had passed him on the road, I'd never have noticed him. He could be just one of many.

“Then what is he?” I asked. Although some of us could look very human, I knew there was always something somewhere that was different. Like my ears and tail. Lughes' eyes and beard. Crane's odd neck, and the feathers beneath her clothes.

“No one knows,” Lughes said plainly.

“What?” I asked, and wondered if they had forgotten, or maybe they had simply not ever cared to find out.

“They don't, Renn. Or at least, if they do it's the only secret in the whole world they can keep from me. They genuinely don't know, no one does,” Amber said, sitting down. As she sat she rummaged through her paintings to look at them. To study them with a judgmental eye. As if they weren't even hers.

I frowned at them, and wondered how that was possible.

“Really. We don't. As far as I'm aware no one does. He's never told anyone, and no one's ever found out,” Lughes said with a sigh.

“There are a lot of assumptions. Even bets, between some of us. But we really don't know,” Crane said, adding her testimony.

“Huh... doesn't that seem a little odd?” I asked.

“Is it?” Crane asked.

“It is! But they don't think it's weird. All they know is he's a predator and they're happy enough knowing that,” Amber complained.

Well... I wasn't.

Staring at one of the drawings... one where he was smiling at something, in the distance. Staring at something which he must have found precious. Maybe even a friend. He looked like how Nory had on occasion, when she looked at me.

I could tell they were telling the truth, if anything thanks to Amber's annoyance... but it bothered me.

They seemed to trust him. Called him their protector.

Yet didn't know what he was.

Did that mean he didn't trust them?

How was that possible?

“Can I keep this one, Amber?” Lughes asked.

“No! He'll find out, because you can't keep secrets, then he'll come find these ones,” Amber stood, grabbing the thin paper from Lughes hand.

Lughes frowned, hurt a little, but said nothing. I could tell though, what he was actually thinking.

He'd get it later, once she was gone. Even if it took many years.

Running my fingers along one of the paintings, I smiled at the man.

She might hate him. She might love him. She might be scared of him...

But he was still someone she could paint so carefully. Draw so preciously.

Which told me more than enough that he was worth meeting.

“I look forward to meeting him,” I said.

“Hm. Me too. He owes me a coat,” Amber said with a nod.

“Oh? Tell more,” I said, enjoying the constant happy surprises.

A happy home. Full of friends, if not family in their own way.

A neat society. Of my own people.

And a protector?

What more could I ask for?