Chapter 3 Civilization...

I look down at the human village below me, nose twitching at the unfamiliar smells, ears on a permanent swivel as the sounds of over five hundred people go about their daily life. It is more people than I have ever seen. Memories of my past lives don't really count, seeing as they feel like they happened to someone else and not me.

It has been almost three weeks since I left the tribe, three weeks up here in the mountains, hunting and traveling. I made sure not to leave any tracks behind, as it turns out my tail makes a perfect broom to sweep my soft pad marks in the snow. And now after three weeks and six broken arrows, I have finally made it to my first non-Khatan settlement. Slowly not really wanting to take my eyes off of the village I pull my leather pack off of my back and pull out the clothes my sister had gotten for me. The shorts were simple enough, all I had to do was make sure my claws in my pads were retracted and then put my leg into them and pull them up. They rode a little low on my rear due to the fact I couldn't pull them up all the way because of my tail.

The shirt hood thing proved to be a little more complicated. I slipped it on over my head and attempted to tie it under my arm, but that really didn't work. I ended up taking it off and punching a few new holes in it with a claw before using the lace meant to tie it to basically stitch the sides together. Pulling it over my head I ended up having to work it down over my breasts, seeing as I had made it a little too tight. Once it was, however, I did a few experimental bounces and was pleased to see my breasts were not about to fall out anytime soon.

I was probably the best dressed Khatan for miles in every direction… Taking a deep breath I shouldered my pack and placed my bow over my shoulder, across my body. It was the most non-threatening way to carry a bow I could think of, besides unstringing it, seeing as it takes a good deal of time to remove a bow when it is slung like this. Slowly I approached the road that I had been shadowing for the past week now and approached the town gates. The frozen mud of the road felt strange under my paws after so long on the soft snow.

I am not the only person approaching the wooden balustrade surrounding this town, in front of me is an old man with a small kit, both of them are sitting on the driver board of a cart loaded down with winter vegetables, including gourds of practically every fall color. The little boy on the seat turns around and looks at me, I flash him the best smile I can, even putting in a little purr for him.

And he screams.

“MONSTER!” he yells at the top of his little lungs, the shout not only causes the old man to jump in fright but also draws the eyes of the two sentries posted at either side of the wooden gate, one drawing a sword and rushing forward, the other aiming a bow at me. Quickly I raise my hands, showing them I have nothing in them, my tail bushing up to an even more ridiculous size than normal.

“No monster!” I say in my broken Gurioan, I know I am bad at it, but I have never really needed to talk in Gurioan, the Tribes have there own language, one that consists of growls, meows, and yowls, each of them punctuated with body language. The only time I had ever spoken Gurioan was when the traders came in every year. “Rinmua is no monster! She is Rinmua!” I nod as I continue to hold my hands up, my ears spread in a placating manner. The guard seeing this looks at me suspiciously, but he lowers his sword which I take as a good sign.

The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

“What is a catfolk doing here?” he asks looking at me curiously, slowly I lower my hands and sigh out in relief.

“Rinmua is traveling, she wishes to become an adventurer, this is the closest settlement to her tribe,” I answer truthfully.

“Grandpa why does it talk so funny?” the little brat asks looking up at his grandpa. Hey now, tense is hard you know? The Khatan don't have words for me and I, we identify ourselves via smell, meaning there is no need, and after fifteen years it is a hard habit to break. “What is it?”

“She-” he emphasized the word, making it sound like a reproach toward the little kit for calling me ‘it’ “is a Khatan, and you should apologize to her, you could have gotten her in trouble like that.”

Ah, what a good old man…

“But she growled at me!”

“Khatan don't growl, they purr, it is a sound they make when they are happy.” he informs his grandson before turning to me, “I am very sorry about my grandson, we don't see many Khatan around here so he overreacted.”

“Rinmua understands,” I smile and cock my head a little to the side purring slightly before turning back toward the guard. “Rinmua wonders if there is a guild house for adventures here? She would like to visit it.”

“Yeah it is on the main road, next to the town square, hey listen cat, no funny business alright?” he growls at me before walking back to his post mumbling something under his breath, I only catch the last part of it, “At least she is wearing clothes, not many clothes, but still...”it would seem my sister made a wise decision getting these for me...

***

I seem to be quite the sensation.

People are stepping out of buildings and stopping what they are doing just to look at me, most of them with nothing more than curiosity, though some are looking at me with more hostility than I care for.

I very well might be the only Khatan they have ever seen.

The population here is not solely human, though they do make up the majority of the people. I have on my short walk to the middle of the town seen two dwarven men, and even one wood elf. There also seems to be a harpy who works as a mail distributor, if the pouch slung around her shoulders is anything to judge by. Perhaps I can get her to fly a message to my family?

No, too far, I'll have to send it with the traders…

Speaking of the traders I always thought that they were just tall for their race, it turns out that they were average height, seeing as I might be the shortest creature here except the dwarves. My people apparently aren't that tall compared to other races...

It is not too hard to figure out which building is the guild hall, seeing as just like the guard had said it was the building next to the town square, and seeing as there are several armed men and women marching in and out of it like they are on some sort of mission. Making my way there I reach out and push the door open, inside there has to be around fifty people, some of them lounging in chairs drinking alcohol, others browsing jobs that are posted on a board on the right side of the hall. Even more, are standing in lines waiting to see a clerk. As I open the door and step in the hall fall’s silent, every eye on me. Careful to not allow my ears to bend submissively I walk into the guild hall and put myself into one of the three lines. Slowly everyone gets back to what they were doing, though they now do it while watching me.

It takes a full five tense minutes before I am in front of the clerk, he is a willowy man in his mid-thirties I would guess, his brown hair receding in an unsightly manner. He looks at me one eyebrow raised, “Yes how can I help you~?”

“Rinmua would like to apply to be an adventurer,” I say looking up at him. He says nothing, and simply fishes a sheet of parchment out and places it in front of me.

“Fill out the form and hand it back, it will be processed in a day or two, and you will be given a guild card,” he says the words like he has said them hundreds of times which were most likely true. I, however, don't really hear them, instead, I stare down at the paper, a feeling of dread welling up in my stomach.

I made an oversight, quite a large one in fact.

I can't read Gorioan.