The wasteland surrounding Darksoil was just as boring to cross as it appeared from a distance. Just an expanse of soft dirt with the occasional mud pit left over from the last rainfall. However, the city itself was absolutely fascinating to observe as new details became visible. It had no outer walls, with boxy, irregularly-sized buildings built from off-white stone, at least on the first layer. The most remarkable thing about the construction was that smaller buildings were built on the roofs of the various stone buildings, consisting of surprisingly variable wooden and brick structures, many of them supporting even smaller structures of their own, each obviously built with different techniques and occupants in mind. Between the many rooftops and upper buildings snaked numerous ropes and planks providing footpaths for smaller creatures out of the way of the traffic of much larger creatures and cargo below.

What really stuck out, however, was the sheer cleanliness of the construction. Maggie had noticed it in both of the smaller towns she'd been taken through, and even in the construction of the wagon. Bricks and stone were cut with machine-like precision, as were the planks of wood used in the upper buildings. It would have been incredibly impressive in a human settlement, much less one populated by those without the ability to easily use tools.

"There are very few roles out there that demand Attunement to be fulfilled, but Builder is absolutely one of them," Steady-Step explained after Maggie posed the question. "Each builder Attunes to the material they choose to work with. They Understand each piece, extending their awareness inside to determine the weak points and find the exact places to drill, hammer, and chisel. They break the right sized blocks out and carve the edges smooth with the least amount of necessary effort, because to do so blindly would take incalculably more time and effort."

"Extending awareness inside of something?" Ink-Talon clicked, obviously curious about something relevant to his own situation.

"I would not know how it is done. That would be a question for someone actually Attuned to something."

At first, the idea of any animal doing something like using a drill was patently absurd, but that was quickly dispelled the moment Maggie used a little imagination. Harnesses, cranks, ropes and pulleys, assistance from more creatures... Any number of solutions existed to get a tool to turn or strike, even if it was more elaborate than just gripping a handle in your hand would be. Like Stead-Step said, each bit of progress would be take a ton of time and effort, but if that effort were to be applied as efficiently and precisely as physically possible...

Unfortunately, there was no time to ponder this further, as the wagon crossed into the city, and it wasn't long before everything went to hell.

The city was noisy.

At first it was just uncomfortable, hearing the chatter from the multitude of critters going about their business, but not being able to tune out any to focus on any particular one. Like being in a house party where everyone's trying to talk over too-loud music. She had to duck back into the wagon to avoid catching any visual aspects of conversations, but the overstimulation just continued to escalate. She could Understand every conversation, she didn't know how not to Understand them, and they were all happening at once. Her every thought felt like it was delayed, having to push through the malaise of words upon words upon words upon words upon words...

a I there obviously it will heard did we lone a be Transporter? told heavy an it pair excellent rain of tomorrow. was that job we afflicted is getting were not fled interested. there the the the collection those an matts Seekers. basin Skypeaks out are of they my accident? clean? dangerous? fur! Merchants...

Out of the corner of her eye she caught Quiet-Dream having similar troubles, fruitlessly pressing his forepaws to his ears while the kits watched in confusion. Within all the endless words she heard Ink-Talon screech something, but his words simply joined the mushy soup of all the others and was lost before she could register it. She felt the wagon lurch beneath her as Stead-Step picked up the pace.

She let out a cry of her own as she fell on her side, a quiet, garbled noise with no meaning other than confusion. She didn't know how long she laid there. Her thoughts and perception of time had become fuzzy and indistinct, just as lost to the noise as much as any individual voice. She was eventually roused by a gentle tap on her wing from Quiet-Dream, apparently having fallen asleep at some point.

"Are you okay? I think we've made it through. We're waiting at the entrance to our destination right now."

"Just peachy," Maggie grumbled, unsteadily rolling onto her talons. "Sorry Dream, didn't mean to snap at you. That was just a bit... jarring."

"Yeah... I'm not entirely sure what happened. I'm just glad it's over."

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"I have a theory," Ink-Talon cawed. He was sitting over in the corner with the kits tucked under his wings. They both looked rather frightened, for understandable reasons. "I was unaffected, likely because of my Attunement limiting the amount of things I can Understand at once, so I had a bit of time to think on it. You both still think in English, right? Assuming you have an internal monologue, at least. I know some people don't."

"Yes."

"Yep, why?"

"So, the reason Maggie gets on the animals' nerves is because language is an extra layer that their Understanding has to process, right? I think it happens in reverse, too. It takes some amount of... mental bandwidth? For us to put their expressions into words we can Understand."

"So if we get too many at once our brains get all bogged down in processing them?" Maggie wondered, extrapolating a bit. "Like a computer running out of RAM."

"As always, I continue to have no idea what any of you mean," Steady-Step snorted, scraping the ground impatiently with one of its hooves. "But at least you seem to have the issue identified. That is more proactive than these Scholars seem to be right now."

"Have we been waiting that long?" Maggie chirped, giving the horse a break from her chatter for the moment.

"Longer than we should have been."

"So... Where did you take us, exactly? I figured we'd be going to a... house, or something. Maybe an inn." Maggie stares up at the structure towering over them. While this one was no less boxy and precisely built as the others, it had a rather imposing edge to it that the rest of the more vibrant and lively construction in the city lacked. It was a large complex, and very pointedly isolated from the other buildings behind them. It had none of the connective structures between rooftops that she'd seen earlier, and nothing was built on top, either. At least nothing visible from this angle. A multitude of windows dotted the exterior, each with a wooden shutter that could be raised and lowered. A few of them had flickering lamplight visible inside.

"This is the College of the Beacon," Steady-Step said. "It is a place of study, and is also responsible for administrating most of the research settlements in the region. Deep's End is one of them. The Scholars will have prepared lodging for you."

"And do they normally employ... lookouts?"

"What?"

"Up on top of the building." Maggie gestured upward with a wing, only realizing afterward that Ink-Talon would likely be the only one who could make out what she was seeing. Perched atop of the roof was a small bird of prey of some sort. "It's a falcon, maybe? I don't know how long it's been watching us, but it's pretty intent on it. Hello up there!" The myna waved awkwardly at the raptor, her shoulders incapable of flexing in the ways she wanted to for the gesture. It visibly flinched at the acknowledgement, but kept its gaze fixed on the group in the wagon. "I wonder why they feel the need to watch us like that." After a period of uneasy silence, Quiet-Dream seemed to realize something, tensing up.

"They're worried we might try to run away." The squirrel's chittering was quiet, like he was trying to whisper.

"Why would we run away?" Ink-Talon cawed in confusion. "We need their help, don't we?"

"They either think we're dangerous, or they know that they're about to make running look very appealing for us. Possibly both."

"That is a rather pessimistic assumption," Steady-Step nickered. "None of you are anything close to dangerous or a flight risk."

"Then things will go smoothly for them," a deep, rumbling growl announced the presence of someone to the left of the wagon. It had approached without making a sound, startling each of them. "Please exit the wagon one at a time. Avians, please remain grounded after exiting."

Maggie left first, giving Ink-Talon and Quiet-Dream time to gather and reassure the trembling kits. The speaker, as it turned out was a leopard. The massive, spotted cat sat back on its haunches and stared down at the myna, eyeing her like she was a disobedient child. She was briefly tempted to be troublesome out of spite, but knew well enough not to act on that impulse.

"You must be the feral-born. Do you have a name?"

"Maggie." She had heard the term "feral-born" used to refer to her a few times when she was first found, but didn't know what it entailed. Born to feral parents, perhaps? This myna bird didn't seem to have come from any of the settlements in the area she woke up in, and what Steady-Step had explained about feral creatures would explain that.

"Stand where you are, 'Pearl,' and do not move." There was an unmistakable mix of pity and disdain in the cat's expression of her name. This did not bode well for first impressions. "Next."

"One moment, please," Quiet-Dream grunted, likely having had to rush getting the hooks on the harness through their hoops. After half a minute or so, he climbed down with the kits safely contained in the loosely-woven baskets strapped to his midsection. He immediately froze upon seeing the very impatient carnivore sitting in front of them.

"Forager Keen-Ear, and kits," the leopard recited, likely recalling the name from the messages sent back and forth before the group's departure.

"I... Yes." Quiet-Dream couldn't muster the will to correct the cat, but Maggie couldn't tell if it was fear or resignation to whatever was about to be done with them.

The leopard nodded. It seemed to notice that something was off, it's tone more sympathetic than it was towards Maggie. "Scholar Ink-Talon?"

"Present." Ink-Talon fluttered over the side of the wagon, casual as ever. "The Scholar title might not be appropriate anymore, though."

"Perhaps," The leopard sighed. It seemed genuinely saddened by the sight of Ink-Talon, likely having been familiar with the body's previous owner. "I am Guardian Golden-Streak, and will be in charge of your safety and accommodations. Please follow my instructions, and you will find your stay to be far more pleasant."

"You make it seem like they are prisoners, Guardian," Steady-Step interjected. "Does that not seem excessive?"

"These afflicted seem very well-behaved, Transporter, but others are not, and we have no guarantee that they will continue to be. Quarantine is the safest option until it is discovered what is going on."

"Others?" Ink-Talon piped up. "There are others like us here?"

"Yes, you will meet them soon." The Guardian looked at the tree of them, its posture softening somewhat. "Please understand, this is a matter of your safety, as well as the safety of everyone around you. These are extraordinary, temporary circumstances, and I will be doing everything in my power to see to it that you are treated well."

"Something terrible has happened," Quiet-Dream squeaked. "Something to prompt this level of caution."

"I am afraid so." The leopard looked away, its tail lashing anxiously. "It is not my place to give details, but I can say this: The loss of your identities is not the only thing being mourned right now."