(A message from Explorer Verdant-Trail, left folded beside its bed in the infirmary)
Invader,
We have arrived in Darksoil, and are receiving medical treatment at the College there. You have my thanks for cooperating and continuing the journey in my stead, however, I was determined to finish the journey as myself, and did not sleep for the remaining two days of the journey. You will have to bear the brunt of the consequences, and I apologize for that.
There are others of your kind here. They will no doubt wish to speak with you. I think you should. If my experience as of late has been lonely, yours could only be more so. I only ask that you do not make long term plans with them, as I intend on returning home as soon as I am sure that Eager-Horizon and Valiant-Claw are safe. The Guild needs me. You have cooperated so far without question, but please try to relax and enjoy yourself. Both for our shared health, and because I do not relish the idea of holding you prisoner for a crime you did not willingly commit. If I must do so, then I would prefer that you be treated well.
Take care of yourself, for both of our sake.
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Every muscle in Chase’s body ached, the pain highlighting the contours of his reptilian form. Verdant-Trail certainly hadn’t been exaggerating about the “consequences” of the time since he was last conscious. He didn’t resent them for it, he deserved this several times over for the hell he was putting them through. Perhaps worse than the pain, though, was the battery of questions he was given by several different animals, seemingly the equivalent of doctors or nurses, about his health and state of mind. He didn’t really pay attention or think too deeply about his answers, just giving a simple yes or no to each one. He needed to get out of this room. He needed to get outside. The moment he was free to move about, he was given directions to the College’s central courtyard, an open, grassy space with a few trees and a pond.
His long, forked tongue flicked out of his mouth on its own accord to “taste” the fresh air. He hated it, not because it was gross, but because he could never make any sense of what his combined sense of smell and taste was actually picking up. So it was just a weird thing he’d reflexively do that would briefly bombard his mind with unintelligible nonsense every time. But after about a week like this from his perspective, he’d managed to bring down his discomfort to cringing a bit at worst, unless something particularly odious was nearby. But of course, this was natural for Verdant-Trail. His discomfort was an alien imposition on this body, same as the rest of him.
Thankfully, the courtyard was relatively empty. He found a thick patch of grass in the sun and laid down, resting his head on his forelegs as he closed his eyes and let the warmth of the sun work its magic.
Warm and cold were entirely different states of being in this body. Warmth was alertness, and pain, and thought. Cold was sleep, and numbness, and empty-minded simplicity. Part of him enjoyed being a little cold, it made it hard to think about all the things he wished he didn’t think about. But this wasn’t his body to abuse. Reptiles needed external warmth to live, and so he was obligated to seek it, even if it made him more self-conscious and self-aware.
“Hello?” Chase opened his eyes after some time to find a small gray squirrel staring at him. They reared up on their hind legs and waved a paw at him in a way only a former human would. “Sorry to interrupt your sunbathing, but I’d heard you were awake and I don’t know how long you’ll be sticking around, so I wanted to introduce myself before you… left.”
“You’re… like me, then?” The Komodo dragon raised his head and hissed his response. He only really had two vocalizations he was capable of making. A sustained hiss, and a low, rumbling growl. Both of them sounded menacing to him, no matter how hard he tried to be friendly, but thankfully other animals never interpreted them that way. The squirrel, however, flinched at the sound. A perfectly human response.
“Human, yeah.” The squirrel set themselves back down on all fours. “I’m Quiet-Dream, do you have a name?”
“Chase.” The dragon cocked his head at the question. “Is that your original’s name? Why change yours?”
“Oh!” Quiet-Dream chirped, clearly surprised. “Your name translated perfectly! You’re the first human I’ve met here to be so lucky. Our names are Understood literally, even in our own minds. For some of us, that turned it into ‘me’ or ‘myself,’ so we’ve had to adopt ‘native’ ones.”
“That makes sense.” Chase nodded. He was just relieved that they hadn’t assumed the identities of the original creatures. Verdant-Trail never would have forgiven him if he’d attempted that. “How many of us are there here? Have you learned anything helpful? How are the originals holding up?”
The squirrel handled the barrage of questions as gracefully as they could, and began the long process of filling him in on what had happened from their own point of view. The beginning was quite familiar. Lots of panic, distress, and despair. However, that was where most of the similarities between their experiences ended. They had all well and truly replaced the original creatures in their bodies, and had been left in the hands of the native creatures while they struggled to figure out what was going on. Eventually, they’d been sent here, where they were essentially being held in the Guardians’ custody until a better solution was found.
“So, it’s just been you in your body the whole time? Not even a hint of the original squirrel?”
“No, and I was curious about that.” Quiet-Dream looked the dragon up and down, as if he were trying to find a sign of something. “How does that work for you?”
“Pretty straightforward, really,” Chase waved a claw dismissively. “Whenever I fall asleep or lose consciousness, it’s Explorer Verdant-Trail who wakes up afterward, and the reverse goes for them. Neither of us are present or have any memory of what the other does, save for the occasional bit of déjà vu.” He looked down at the long, sharp claws on the end of his feet and idly cut a small circle through the grass and dirt in front of him. “I just got lucky, I guess.”
“Lucky, how?” Quiet-Dream squeaked in a mixture of confusion and concern. “It sounds to me like things have been really rough for you.”
“Because I have someone to tell me what to do, and someone I can make it up to for ruining their life.”
“That’s not…” Quiet-Dream trailed off, his protest faltering as he thought about it. “Look, I understand how you feel. I’ve done everything I can to do right by Keen-Ear, including looking after her kits. But you shouldn’t hold yourself responsible to that extent. We’re all just people put here by happenstance.”
“Are we?” Chase growled, standing up. “Are you sure we didn’t wish for this? Are you sure we didn’t all want this, somewhere deep down? Are you sure some god with a strong sense of irony didn’t just decide to give it to us?”
“What?”
“Because I wished for this! I decided to go for a hike in the woods with no intention of ever coming back, and I had the idea that everything would be better if I could just be something else, if I could just vanish without a trace! And then I woke up here, terrified that I’d taken a life to live in their body, like you all apparently have.” Chase’s claws dug a multitude of gouges into the soil beneath his feet, and he lowered his head to Quiet-Dream’s eye level, inadvertently causing his tongue to flick out a few inches from the frightened squirrel’s face. “Luckily, I’ve only taken half a life, and I intend to do everything in my power to lessen the damage I’ve done.” He lumbered away, ignoring any counterarguments from Quiet-Dream entirely. He refused to budge on this.
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Thankfully, the squirrel had the sense not to follow him back inside. He regretted having his first interaction with another human in this world go so badly, especially since he hadn’t seemed like a bad person. Quiet-Dream was just someone else trying to do their best in much the same way he was. He almost certainly hadn’t deserved that level of explosive anger, since they had more in common than not. But that was exactly why he had to come down as hard as he did on that point. Quiet-Dream and the others had the latitude to do what they thought was best with the life they’d taken over, because there was no other option. He had explicit guidance on how to help Verdant-Trail live the life they wanted to live, from Verdant-Trail themselves. He had a duty to follow it, and he needed them all to understand that.
The first thing Chase did upon returning to the infirmary was check in on Valiant-Claw and Eager-Horizon. They were Verdant-Trail’s friends, or had been, at least. Chances are that whatever minds resided within them, if any, were of humans, like him. Still, Verdant-Trail’s mission was to make sure they were being cared for, and that meant that caring for them was his mission, too.
Valiant-Claw was awake. One of the other humans had used their experience with bodily disconnects to correctly guess what the problem was, and what could be done to help them recover. The Physician tending to them said that he was free to converse with them, but with only partial control of two limbs at the moment, it would be a somewhat limited one.
“Hello,” Chase nodded a greeting as he laid down in front of the crab. They had been positioned with most of their legs curled under them while their claws hung over the front of the cushion a bit. Their two frontmost legs were splayed out to either side of them, though, and twitched a bit before slowly moving to respond.
“...Verdant-Trail? …Or …Chase?”
“Chase.” He nodded again, caught off-guard by the question. “You know my name already?”
“...Been awake …most days. …Good at …watching …and listening.”
“I’m so sorry,” Chase growled, bowing his head a bit. “If I’d known you were conscious, I would have…” He didn’t know what he would have done, other than feel guilty about it.
“...Not …your fault. …You both …did your best. …I’m …used to this. …Perk of …being old.” The crab’s movements paused as they considered what to say next. “…This world is …interesting. …Wasn’t bored. …Helped to know …people cared.” They paused again, before only lifting one leg briefly. “...Tired.”
“Got it, this must take a lot out of you right now,” Chase hissed and stood up. “I’ll let you rest. Verdant-Trail will want to talk with you tomorrow.”
“...Thank you, Chase.”
It was an incredibly simple statement. One that a human would give without a second thought, sincere or not. And yet he still felt like he’d been punched in the gut. What thanks did he deserve for trying to navigate this disaster that he was partly the cause of? But it was still freely, sincerely given. He was appreciated. For some reason.
He just wanted to go lay down. He couldn’t afford to sleep just yet, not without messing up Verdant-Trail’s next day, but he was still exhausted. Checking in on Eager-Horizon could wait for a bit. Unfortunately for him, he had a visitor of his own: a large, black crow was perched on the bed next to his, waiting expectantly. Unless there was another crow around here who would be interested in him, this was likely Ink-Talon, one of the humans mentioned by Quiet-Dream in his summary of events.
“Hey!” The crow squawked and waved a wing at him. “Was hoping you’d come by, I have some news for you.”
“Good news, or bad news?” Chase flopped onto his own bed, angling his head to keep looking at the bird.
“Good-to-neutral, depending on the outcome.” The crow clicked his beak after pondering the question a bit. “I’m Ink-Talon, by the way.”
“Chase.” He raised a single claw, which Ink-Talon gripped with one foot to gently shake. It was a strangely satisfying action for something so simple. “Heard about you from Quiet-Dream.”
“Oh, good, I was worried he’d missed you. Hope he wasn’t too overbearing. He’s been really anxious about the whole situation with you three and wants to help more than anything.”
“...No, he was fine.” Chase suppressed the urge to cringe as his own actions replayed in his mind. “If anything, I was the overbearing one in that conversation.”
“Fair enough.” Ink-Talon nodded. “You look absolutely exhausted, so I’ll get to the news. I was working with the Physicians to try and help Eager-Horizon, and we think we have a potential treatment. If all goes well, they could be conscious sometime in the next few days.”
“That’s good. Verdant-Trail will be relieved to learn that.”
“And what about you?” Ink-Talon chirped. “With both them and the crab on the path to recovery, Verdant-Trail is going to take you both back to the Highnests, right? Are you going to be okay?”
“You read their message.” Chase growled, raising his head as he felt a sudden spike of anger at the invasion of both his and Verdant-Trail’s privacy.
“I didn’t mean to!” the crow cawed, stepping back and flaring his wings. “It was just lying open on the floor, and it was really short. I didn’t even put together what it was until I’d already finished it.” He gestured behind him where the message was indeed laying open on the floor, knocked over and left there either by himself in his rush to get some fresh air, or by one of the doctors. Unless Ink-Talon was lying, of course. He seemed sincere, but he couldn’t be completely sure. “But between that and what the Physicians said about how you were acting this morning, I’m… concerned.”
“Okay, get it over with, then.” Chase stood up and walked over to the misplaced note. “Try and convince me that I shouldn’t cooperate with Verdant-Trail. That I should fight to stay here.” He awkwardly folded it over again with two claws, then picked it up in his mouth and shoved it under the bed.
“Actually, I think it’s admirable to form a partnership like that,” Ink-Talon said. “Working towards a common goal with the original occupant of your body is a good thing, for both of you.” He came off like he was speaking from experience, even though that was impossible from what Quiet-Dream had told him. “But that’s why I’m asking if you will be okay. I might be reading into it too much, but Verdant-Trail seems worried about you. It asked you to take care of yourself, and to actually enjoy things. It wants you to be happy.”
“Whatever Verdant-Trail wants is what will make me happy,” Chase hissed without a second thought.
“Do you really think that? Or are you just trying to pay off a debt you never will?” The Komodo dragon tensed up, ready to snap back at the accusation, but was stopped by the overwhelming sense that the crow knew exactly what he was talking about. If one thing was certain about Ink-Talon, it was that he knew more about their condition than he was letting on. “It even calls you ‘Invader,’ despite clearly not holding you in enough contempt to justify the title. Have you even told it your name? Do you want it to keep calling you that? Is that supposed to be a punishment? Who does that help?”
“I can’t deal with this right now.” Chase fell back onto the bed, choosing to completely give up on the conversation rather than even attempt to respond. “Leave me alone.”
“Okay, sorry to push like that.” Ink-Talon nodded and hopped down to the floor without a hint of protest. His head ducked out of view for a moment as he seemed to tug at something under the bed. His beak was empty when he stood back up, though, so he hadn’t taken anything. “Don’t be a stranger, Chase.”
The crow took to the air and flew across the room, landing at the exit and shooting him one last glance before pushing through the curtain to leave. Craning his neck a bit, Chase peered down to see what he’d messed with under the bed before he’d left. He’d pulled a charcoal stick free, almost certainly the one Verdant-Trail had used to write their message to him. It must have gotten kicked under the cushion at some point.
’Don’t be a stranger.’ Right. He fished the message from Verdant-Trail back out and re-read it. Everything Ink-Talon had said about it was true, of course. The Explorer was concerned for his well-being, and had instructed him to take care of himself. However, the part about ‘a crime he didn’t willingly commit’ was unfortunately misinformed by what they’d heard of the other humans here. Not because it was incorrect, but because Verdant-Trail didn’t have the full picture. It didn’t matter if he didn’t technically choose this. He knew, deep down, that if he’d actually been given a choice that day, knowing all the consequences and harm to others it would cause, he’d have chosen to come here all the same. In that moment, he’d have chosen any horrible fate for himself and others to avoid actually facing his problems. That was the kind of person he’d been. That was who he never wanted to be again.
Chase flipped the paper over, exposing the blank backside, and gingerly picked up the charcoal stick between two claws. Using his snout to help nudge a third claw into some semblance of a workable writing grip, he began his own message with a simple declaration:
”My name is Chase.”