I reflexively leaned backward to escape the strike but tripped and fell hard onto the deck. Dazed, I moved to sit up only to be halted by the tip of a spear positioned directly between my eyes. “You’re not welcome here! Leave, murderer!”

What? Murderer? I had no idea what was going on but knew I had to be careful. If I said the wrong thing, I risked angering the kid even further, which would be detrimental to my health. He may only seem to be ten or eleven years old, but the strength he exuded was undeniable.

While I struggled to come up with a way to defuse the situation, a small circular object flew straight toward the wolf boy’s blue-furred head. He jerked his spear up to deflect the chakram up into the air, then shifted to block Kiria’s follow-up attack as she pounced with her second weapon. “Agh! Kiria! Why are you getting in my way?!”

“Micah’s my friend!” Kiria shouted, snatching her first chakram from the air before it dropped. “I won’t let you hurt him!”

Chakram in each hand, Kiria intercepted the wolf boy’s lunge and looped the spear through the open centers of her weapons. Then she pulled the chakrams in opposite directions with the spear caught in the middle, locking it in place. The kid struggled to yank his weapon free, but Kiria was taller and kept the spear secured at an awkward angle. “Let go!”

“Make me!” Kiria challenged.

“Enough.” A dead serious voice accompanied a wave of trepidation that washed over us. Both Kiria and the boy dropped their weapons and sank to their knees, fear evident on their distraught faces. I felt a cold emptiness, as though all the hope I had for life had been drained from my very soul. It was a familiar feeling.

I took a deep breath and centered myself. It didn’t matter how I felt, nor did the countless thoughts that bounded through my mind. So long as I kept moving, everything would turn out fine in the end. It always had, and always would. I struggled against the encompassing pressure, but with some effort, stood up and faced the source of this suppressing aura.

He was a tall man. Strong, muscled arms crossed in front of his broad chest and golden fur lined his face up to his feline ears. But I would never think of him as a mere cat. This was a tiger, and his very bearing commanded respect. “An impressive feat, to withstand my [Intimidation]. Speak your name.”

“Micah Cedano,” the words were pulled out of me in a gasp, leaving me breathless. My body had heard the order and immediately complied, leaving me no opportunity to do so myself. What was this power? This pressure that I felt? Could a single individual truly generate such a force?

“Cedano…” muttered the man. “That name is unfamiliar to me. Is yours a branch family to a larger House?”

This time I had the chance to choose my words, though I still felt compelled to answer. Not that I had any reason to resist. If this was who I thought it was, I would need to tell him anyway. “I have no family. My parents were killed when I was young, and I was raised in an orphanage.”

The tiger paused, and for a brief moment, I thought his expression softened. “I see. My condolences for your loss.” Then he turned to the cat and dog still collapsed on their knees, heads bowed deeply. “As for you two, I expect to hear an exceptional reason to wield a blade in anger against a fellow tribesman.”

Kiria was the first to speak. “I-I was protecting my friend,” she said, her voice strained. “Rozhe attacked, so I intercepted his strike and locked his weapon. I had no intention of causing harm, but of preventing it.”

“And you?” asked the tiger.

“H-he,” the wolf boy, Rozhe, struggled. His fists clenched, and he slowly rose his head to look the tall man in the eyes. From my position behind him, I could not see his expression directly, but I could perceive a torrent of complicated emotions emanating from his body. “He’s human! He’s the entire reason we’re here, why our homes were stolen from us! He’s our enemy!”

“Is simply being human enough to brand one a murderer and sentence them to death?” The man asked.

“Y-yes!” Rozhe answered, sounding enthusiastic.

“I see,” said the man. “So when my mate returns, you intend to kill her too?”

The tiger’s calm voice belied the fury in his eyes. I could not be certain, but if a mate was equivalent to a spouse, then this could go badly. I glanced over at Madam Fir, who was standing on the shore and dispassionately watching the tense scene with a face that bordered on boredom. It seemed she either had no intention of interfering or did not see a need to.

“N-no, wait!” Rozhe frantically shook his head. “The captain is fine! She’s part of your family and helps us lots! I would never harm her! Same with your other daughter!”

“My other daughter?” the tiger said, eyebrow raised menacingly. “Tell me, to which of my two daughters are you referring? Both are of my blood and that of my mate. Both have contributed greatly to the survival of our tribe.”

“I-I,” Rozhe stammered.

“Or do you mean to imply that Lycia is less worthy of being my daughter because she’s human?”

“Not at all, Chief!” Rozhe kowtowed before the man, face flat against the deck. His dark blue tail was curled up beneath his stomach.

I was beginning to understand the situation a bit more. I could not fault the boy for his rash actions, and I was not particularly angry, but the kid had provoked their leader. Their social customs were unknown to me, but I hoped they wouldn’t punish the child too heavily. He was just entering his teenage years — surely we’d all done some silly stuff at that age, no?

“Rozhe,” the chief began after letting the boy tremble for a bit. “Had we been attacked by a rival tribe, would you hate all beastkin? Or when the elven bandits raided our fields, should we have retaliated against the Gartenian merchants who came to our aid?” He relaxed his arms and knelt. “I know your pain. It’s the same pain we all share. But attacking an unarmed guest moments after we’ve offered our hospitality does nothing to protect our people. Understand?”

“Yes, Chief,” Rozhe said. “I’m sorry.”

“It is not I who was slighted by your words and actions,” the chief replied. He stood up, and the pressure surrounding us suddenly abated. I found it easier to breathe, as though I had been freed of a great load.

Rozhe stood up and turned to me, head down. His gaze flicked to me briefly, his eyes sharp but absent of his prior hostility. “Sorry,” he muttered.

“Apology accepted,” I nodded with a small smile. To the side stood Kiria scowling at the blue-haired wolf. I ignored her, hoping she wouldn’t escalate the situation, and continued, “ I can understand wanting to protect your family. I promise I won’t hurt anyone while I’m here.”

“Hmph, we’ll see,” Rozhe said and turned back to the chief.

The tiger man — beastkin, I think I heard him say — assumed an authoritative expression and spoke, “Rozhe. Normally I would have you confined to your dwelling as punishment, but we cannot afford any idle hands. Therefore, you will be serving Madam Fir until the next Dual Moon. If that’s acceptable to you, that is, Madam.”

Madam Fir nodded, her lips curling up in a way that seemed both normal and disquieting. “I am quite used to dealing with naughty children and would welcome the free labor. Come, boy. Grab your toy and follow me. We’ve got work to do.”

“Y-yes, Madam Fir!” Rozhe replied. He quickly picked his spear off the deck and rushed to catch up to the bushy-tailed woman.

“As for you,” the chief turned to Kiria, who stiffened after holstering her chakrams. He stepped onto the boat and approached the cat girl who took a tentative step backward. She looked at me and I looked away. I was not going to get in this man’s way if I didn’t have to. When Kiria’s foot touched the sack of fish pieces in the middle of the boat, she stopped. The chief paused his approach when he was a step away. It was quiet, and the other workers had long since fled the area, though I didn’t see when.

“Kiria.”

“Here!” she responded.

A moment passed, and then the chief suddenly reached forward and pulled Kiria into a tight hug. “Welcome home, my daughter.”

“Ah!” Kiria wrapped her arms around the larger man’s back, her head only coming up to the chief’s chest. “Glad to be home, dad.”

The heartfelt reunion was touching, and I wondered if I should even be there. But as an outsider, I couldn’t really go wandering about on my own, so I waited.

Then the chief seized Kiria by the scruff of her neck and held her high up in the air. “You fool girl! Have you any idea how worried I was about you? To patrol the shore the morning after the manastorm only to find that our best boat was missing along with our only [Scout]?!”

“Ack! My neck!” Kiria flailed about, unable to free herself. She didn’t seem to be in much pain though, and he was her father, so maybe this was okay?

“Even worse, when I checked our stores, not a single provision was missing!” The chief continued.

“Food is scarce!” Kiria said. “I didn’t want to take any without permission!”

“But the boat was fine?”

“I can return a boat! But I can’t return food, so I was just going to fish for some from the ocean like usual!”

“And how did that go?” said the chief. “The day after the manastorm tore through the ocean?”

“Er,” Kiria hesitated. “Not great?”

“Of course not!” her father exclaimed. “When excess mana saturates an environment, regular animals seek shelter while monsters swarm the area! Which you’d know if you hadn’t skipped all your lessons!”

“I didn’t skip them!” Kiria protested. “I just postponed them for later!”

I thought back to my experience floating in the ocean. Maybe the manastorm had something to do with why I never encountered anything until those glowbites? Wait, did they count as animals or monsters? They were fish, right? “Are these glowbites monsters, then?”

The chief turned toward me, his face having returned to its neutral, calm expression despite the dangling daughter still held overhead. “No, despite their strength and tenacity, glowbites are still just normal fish. They tend to require large amounts of food, so are among the first to return after a storm, or even during.”

“I see,” I nodded, absorbing the information for later. If there was a difference between what was considered an animal and what was considered a monster, it would be best to learn that quickly. I thought to the massive shark. That seemed normal as far as monstrous man-eating sharks went. “Why is the megalodon a monster? It just looked like a massive shark.”

“While it’s true that some normal sharks can reach a similar size, megalodons are much smarter,” the chief answered. “Some believe they can use certain skills as well, but few stick around long enough to fin—”

The tiger beastkin paused abruptly and, having come to some realization, slowly turned back to his daughter, who now hung limp in resignation. “Kiria? Did you encounter a megalodon on your unsanctioned rescue mission?”

“Uh, no?” Kiria shiftily avoided his gaze, staring with great interest in the direction of the sandy shore.

“Then why did Micah say ‘it just looked like’?” The chief pressed. “As though he had seen one? And come to think of it, why haven’t you used your wind magic to free yourself like you usually do?”

Oops. Sorry, Kiria. I may have made things worse for you.

“Did you, perchance, run out of mana fleeing from the creature?” The chief rotated Kiria so she was now staring directly at her father.

“Maybe?” Kiria warily smiled, eyes wide in an obvious ploy to appear as cute as possible. No way that worked.

But then the chief gradually lowered Kiria down to the deck and released her. Just as Kiria exhaled in joyous relief, he said, “Your mother will hear of this when she returns.”

“Nooooo!” Kiria cried out in fear, but to no avail. The chief turned to me, ignoring the cat clawing at his back. “My apologies for the delay. You were promised a meal. We don’t have much, but what we do, we have to share. For today, at least.”

“I understand,” I bowed to him. “Thank you very much, Chief.“

While the chief returned to the shore, I addressed Kiria, who had given up and dejectedly resumed collecting the glowbite pieces. “Thanks for the rescue, again. Now it’s two I owe you.”

“No problem!” Kiria said, her good mood recovering instantly. “We’re friends, and friends help each other!”

I smiled. I didn’t think I’d ever made a friend this easily. It was a nice feeling though. “Then I’m glad to call you my friend. See you after lunch?”

“You bet!” Kiria exclaimed. “I’ll clean and cook these as fast as possible and join up with you later!”

“I look forward to it,” I told her, then moved to catch up to the chief.

There was no dock beyond the sand bank, so I hopped down from the edge of the book onto the shore. It was a surprisingly sturdy surface. The sand was packed in close to hold its shape but still soft enough to comfortably absorb the impact on my bare feet. Only a faint impression of my feet was visible, and no other footprints adorned the rectangular protrusion. Looking around, however, the rest of the shore looked just like your standard beach. Light-brown sand with obvious foot trails of all who recently walked past.

I reached the chief near the edge of the beach where a variety of bushes and grasses grew. The largest plants came up to my chest with wild leaves reaching out as far as they could. Others were shorter and thinner, but their greens were more vibrant than any I had seen in the city. As we walked past this perimeter, the density of plant life steadily dropped. I wondered it if was a natural phenomenon or the result of thinning for each of travel.

It didn’t take us long to reach the settlement, where I realized that I would need to check my assumptions and preconceptions. I knew not to expect the same architecture I was used to in a modern city, but I still figured that a village would at least consist of wood houses, perhaps made from logs like in old photos.

Instead, there was a collection of twenty or so round tents set up on an open plain. Each tent stood maybe ten feet tall at most but were decently wide. I imagined maybe you could park a small car within the space of the circular dwelling. Wild grass grew throughout the area, which was partitioned by a fence of rope mounted on wooden stakes delineating the border of the camp. The entrance we were approaching was a gap in the fence guarded by a short girl who looked even younger than Rozhe.

“Chief!” the girl straightened her posture and saluted with her right arm against her chest at a 45° angle, fist closed. She seemed like a human child to me, but the giant stone battle axe strapped to her back gave me pause. My rudimentary understanding of physics told me the girl should have fallen over long ago, but she appeared completely unburdened.

“Grubelle,” the chief returned her salute. “How fared the camp in my absence?”

“Same as always, nothing to report!” Grubelle said with a childlike grin. “Oh! Except I saw Madam Fir with Rozhe a little bit ago. I think I heard her say something about digging a giant hole?”

A what? For what purpose could she need a large hole?

The chief chuckled, apparently amused by the tale, and relaxed his arm. “I see. Keep up the good work. This is Micah, a survivor of the manastorm Kiria found at sea. I will be speaking with him in my yurt, so see to it I am not disturbed unless there is an emergency.”

“Yes, Chief!” The girl bowed and ran off to complete her orders, not at all slowed down by the axe I could now see was twice as wide as her and nearly as long with the handle.

“Is it alright to leave the entrance unguarded?” I asked my escort.

The chief nodded. “It’s mostly a formality to give the older children something to do. There aren’t many of us here, but we try to let children who have yet to receive their class play freely. For the ones who want to help, we give them simple jobs they can have fun with. Does that seem strange to you?”

“Not at all,” I said, recalling all the “siblings” I once had. Our circumstances may not have been ideal, but we were happy. The others around my age would work to put smiles on the younger ones’ faces and help them forget their troubles. “All kids deserve to be kids.”

The chief smiled. “I agree. Come, my yurt is this one right here.” He gestured toward the round tent directly to the right of the entrance, just beyond the fence. No wonder the gate could afford to be left unguarded. It was directly under his supervision regardless.

He lead me around the tent until we reached the side facing the center of camp, and once again I was surprised. I thought, like most tents, there would be a flap or hole in the fabric to push through. Instead, what I saw was a wooden door. And now that I stood closer, I noticed a rigid framework supporting the white canvas. This was no mere tent.

Oblivious to my astonishment, or politely ignoring it, the chief opened the door and ushered me inside. My first impression of the yurt was cozy. The entrance of the circular dwelling was set in a mostly square room. The only furniture was a low-set rectangular table in the center of the room with six pillows surrounding it for people to sit on. Three separate spaces were curtained off along each remaining side of the square living space, likely sleeping arrangements for his family. The floor was not grass or fabric, but polished wood planks that looked modern and clean. The only thing it was missing were some rugs, lighting, and decorations and it would look just like it came straight from Earth.

The chief walked to a basket in the corner and removed the cover, revealing three large clay jars. He retrieved one and carried it to the table. “Please, have a seat. Eat first, and recover your strength. Then we may talk.”

“Thank you,” I said, and stared in anticipation at the contents of the jar. I was not disappointed.

When the chief lifted the lid, I saw an assortment of the prettiest fruits I had ever seen. Without delay, I grabbed the purple one at the top and took a bite, swallowing far too quickly to even register the taste. Next was something that looked kind of like a banana but was shorter and orange. I was sure it tasted great, but I already moving on to the next one.

By the time I emptied the jar, I was finally able to savor the juices that had spread throughout my mouth and permeated my tongue. It was then that I suddenly regretted all of my behavior over the past few minutes. I had just eaten all of this man’s food and gorged myself without a second thought.

Hesitantly, I looked up at the chief, who simply handed over a wooden cup of water with a small smile. “You needn’t be embarrassed. A starving man cannot deny the meal in front of him.”

I thanked him again and gulped the water down, feeling a great sense of relief as the day’s thirst was finally quenched. Without a word, the chief handed me another cup of water, and while I drank that he refilled the first one from the second of his clay jars. I would need to refill the jar to compensate him.

When I at last had my fill, I closed my eyes and allowed the food and drink to settle within me. I could practically feel my energy stores filling once more, and an emptiness I hadn’t even realized was there abated within my core. I took a deep breath, enjoying the sensation of my body recovering its strength.

I opened my eyes and bowed my head. “Thank you very much for this generous meal. I hope you will permit me to replace that which I consumed.”

“Good, I shall hold you to your word,” the chief nodded. “Now, I believe introductions are in order. My name is Borath, and I am the leader of this humble settlement. It is my role to protect them from those who would do them harm and guide them to a prosperous future.”

Following his lead, I said, “My name is Micah Cedano. I am a student of materials science, and my goal is to understand the components of the natural world and use them to build a better tomorrow.”

“A student?” Chief Borath asked. “Strange for a student to be sailing the ocean, let alone during a manastorm. Why did you come out here, and how many were you sailing with?”

I took a deep breath, considering how to answer. I needed help, and as dangerous as my situation here was, I didn’t know nearly enough to bluff my way through. Rozhe’s reaction to me was only part of it, but further emphasized my need for information. I decided on the truth. “This will sound crazy, but I did not intend to set sail at all. I was walking in the city when a tornado appeared and sucked me in. I lost consciousness and, when I woke up, found myself adrift in the middle of the ocean.”

Chief Borath’s expression was unchanged, but neither did he respond to my story. Saying it out loud, even I had to admit how stupid it sounded. Maybe I should have gone with something else. Well, too late to back out now.

After a few more moments, the chief said, “You know that sounds preposterous. Even if I felt you were telling the truth, I could not afford to believe that. But you are too intelligent to be a fool and too courteous to be a villain. Our enemies would have reacted negatively to many of the things you have witnessed and experienced since your arrival.”

“If I may ask, who are your enemies?” I asked, hoping to confirm a hypothesis I had. “And why did Rozhe think I was one of them?”

Chief Borath’s eyes narrowed and locked with mine. I feel my breath catch as the pressure from before exerted its hold on me. “You are not aware of the conflict?”

“Where I’m from, there is no conflict,” I managed with a strained voice.

The chief’s grip on my mind held for a while, then suddenly abated. “Where are you from?”

I thought about answering with the name of my home city or country, but in another world, would that have any meaning? No, I would likely learn nothing unless there was some coincidence in naming scheme somehow. But there was another answer I could use. “Earth,” I said. Was this world a parallel timeline on Earth or another planet entirely? Hopefully, I would find out now.

“Earth?” Chief Borath asked incredulously. “Your country’s name is dirt?”

And there it was. Earth was not a proper noun in this world. They likely only knew the term to refer to the ground, or maybe they had earth magic. “Earth is not the name of my country, but of my world.”

“Your…world?” the chief’s brow furrowed. He thought for a moment, then said, “Do you mean to say you come from a world other than Roden?”

“Um, yes,” I said, wincing at the sheer awkwardness of saying something so insane. “I don’t understand it myself, but after the storm, everything was different. My wounds were gone and I could suddenly use magic and visualize some sort of ‘status’ with my thoughts.”

“Hm, this is most unusual,” Chief Borath said. “And you say there is no war on your ‘Earth’? No discrimination or persecution of the demi-human races?”

“Well…” I hesitated. “There is no discrimination against demi-humans there, technically.”

“But?” the chief prompted.

“We don’t have demi-humans at all,” I admitted. “We have stories of people like you, but to be honest, I didn’t think they were real. I’ve only ever met other humans. And the wars fought on our world have always been between different groups of humans.”

“I see,” Chief Borath leaned back, his head angled downward. I wondered how he would judge my story; how I would have back on Earth. I didn’t know. Not well, assumed. The chief looked back up at me. “It is difficult for me to believe your tale, but it is similarly difficult to brand you a liar. Regardless, however, you are an unknown risk. I cannot allow you free reign within out settlement.”

I nodded, feeling somewhat conflicted. Was it sadness? Resignation? Frustration? I could feel the beating of my heart, the clenching of my stomach. My hands curled into fists, then unfurled themselves. Sighing, my mouth opened to respond, but the chief’s next words made me pause.

“Therefore, I shall grant you a choice.” My breath caught in my throat. “You may remain in the settlement under watch and gradually earn the trust of the beastkin. Or you may seek out the Oracle atop the mountain’s summit and obtain the answers both of us need.

“The choice is yours.”