The early morning sun filtered through the forest canopy, the low angle creating a display of spotty shadows that danced in the breeze with the leaves that cast them. Aside from the creaking of the branches, the eerie silence of the forest was only broken by the occasional growls and chirps of two travelers: a black-furred fox and the small brown bird perched on its back. The fox kept its nose to the ground, following the lingering scents of two others who had gone missing the day before, while the bird trained its sharp vision on the distance, looking for anything out of place.

Few people ventured into the Border Forest. Despite its relative safety, the simple proximity to the Lost Lands was more than enough to dissuade casual travel. A simple error in navigation could lead to that safety ceasing rather unexpectedly. It was for this reason that settlements near the Border employed Seekers like Silver-Tail. If someone did not return on time, or else signaled for rescue, then it was the job of a Seeker to retrieve it.

“Metal-glint, forward-right!” the feathered passenger peeped, its gaze snapping towards the sparkle as it zeroed in on signs of activity in the distance. “Possibly from Ink-Talon's observation tools?”

“Good eye, cling tightly!” Silver-Tail picked up the pace, following the bird’s directions. It wasn’t long before far more recent scent trails confirmed that this was where the missing creatures had recently been. At the base of an old tree lay the pair’s gear: observation stakes to confirm proximity to the Lost Lands, a few rolls of parchment and a charcoal stylus for record keeping, and a rodent-fit satchel, clearly sized for one of the missing people, a squirrel named Forager Keen-Ear. The stakes had apparently been used, but had been left unattended, falling over sometime the previous day. “Darting-Flight, can you gather up the records? If they were taken properly, we mustn’t leave them behind.”

“Right.” The swift nodded and fluttered off the fox, moving to pick up the bits of loose parchment and carefully place it in the satchel strapped across its breast. “Looks like the Scholar’s markings,” it noted, turning its head sideways to examine one more closely. “Something definitely went wrong, Ink-Talon is never this careless.” It was at this point that a nearby glint at the base of the tree caught its eye. Not of metal, but of eyes, peering out of a dark hole beneath the roots. Eyes that didn’t look on it with familiarity, but with fear, anger, and confusion. Darting-Flight froze, flicking its tail feathers several times in quick succession, a silent signal that Silver-Tail Understood immediately: “Possible Feral. Small. To my left.”

The fox pounced, baring its teeth and putting itself between its smaller comrade and whatever was watching them, only to be caught off-guard by the dark shape rushing at it. Not because it was fast or dangerous, but because it was one of the people it was looking for. Scholar Ink-Talon awkwardly stumbled out of the darkness, squawking a command to someone behind it as it flapped its wings and threw itself at the fox with all the effectiveness of a kit hunting crickets on its first trip outside the den.

“Go! I’ll distract it!” Ink-Talon cawed, only to be immediately knocked over and pinned by the fox’s forepaw in one swift motion.

“Scholar! Control yourself!” The fox barked. “We are not Feral, and you are not in danger!”

“You’re… like us?” Forager Keen-Ear chittered as it emerged from the hollow, its gait betraying uncharacteristic clumsiness in much the same way Ink-Talon’s frantic movements did, not to mention a fair bit of physical discomfort.

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“Something is wrong,” Darting-Flight peeped quietly. “Are they mentally sound?”

“Get off!” Ink-Talon pinched Silver-Tail’s leg with its beak, causing the fox to leap back with a surprised yelp.

“Friend! Stop!” Keen-Ear squeaked, placing a forepaw on the crow’s wing to placate it. “They don’t mean us any harm.” Ink-Talon slumped over, collapsing from apparent exhaustion.

“At least one of you is lucid,” the Seeker whined as it licked its wound. Ink-Talon’s bite had actually drawn blood.

“I’m not entirely sure I am,” Keen-Ear said, staring at its own paws. “Do you know what happened to us?” It didn’t just mean the two of them, seeming to include Silver-Tail and Darting-Flight in this happening as well. “We were [Another Species], from [Our Home]. But now we’re… like this? I hoped it was just a bad dream, that I’d go to sleep and wake up back in my bed, but-”

“Not ‘were!’ We still are [Our Species]!” Ink-Talon cawed angrily, finally managing to stand back up. “Don’t you dare give in to this!”

“I’m not giving in to anything! You’re getting caught up in semantics!”

The two began to argue, much of what they were talking about shrouded without proper context. Whatever small amount of sense the squirrel was speaking was instantly rebuffed by the far more delirious bird. Silver-Tail tuned them out and motioned to its nearby companion.

“Messenger Darting-Flight, you have a role to fulfill.”

“Will you be okay alone with them?” Darting-Flight nervously glanced between Silver-Tail and the other pair. “I think the Scholar is sleep-deprived, and neither of them are behaving rationally.” It hopped around to the fox’s front, concernedly gesturing at the visible blood on its leg with a wing. “You’ve already been injured.”

“I will be fine. They are far more of a danger to themselves than me in this state.” The fox’s ears drooped as it eyed the pair with a mix of pity and concern. The possibility of whatever had happened to them being contagious or caused by a nearby danger could not be discounted, and the small wound on its foreleg throbbed as the thought crossed its mind. But they themselves were not a threat. Just unwell. “Informing the Coordinator is more important than avoiding small risks.”

“Understood, I will make sure the Physician is prepared for them as well.” Darting-Flight spread its wings and prepared for takeoff before pausing and looking back. “Be safe, Seeker.”

“Fly true, Messenger.” As the swift zoomed off above the trees, Silver-Tail turned back to the arguing pair, only to find the fight having already ended and the two sorrowfully commiserating instead. Keen-Ear sat beside a crestfallen Ink-Talon, awkwardly wrapping a foreleg around the crow. The fox clearly Understood it to be an expression of comfort and consolation, but it was an unusual one for these two. A poor fit for either of their body shapes. “Are you ready to converse now?” the Seeker asked, carefully approaching the pair.

“I am,” the squirrel answered, “but my friend is not. Too tired.”

“Understood. We can let it rest for a while, and then I can carry it back.” Silver-Tail sat down in front of them, wracking its brain as it tried to figure out how best to approach this. In the end, it just had to sigh and hope that the Forager wouldn’t react poorly to having its mental state questioned. “Before anything else, I need to know. What happened to the two of you? How much do you remember?”

Keen-Ear stared blankly for a moment, as if confused by the question.

“Do you not know? You are like us, right? [My Former Species]?”

“No.” The Seeker was caught off-guard by the question, just as much as Keen-Ear was caught off-guard by the answer. This was far more severe than it had initially assumed, and it immediately regretted sending Darting-Flight back so soon. It did its best to hide its fear and confusion, expressing its next question with a calm tilt of the head and an inquisitive grunt. “Just who, and what, do you believe yourself to be?”