The child was malnourished, like the rest, but took to squirrel stew readily enough. The Khor were lovers of meat, after all. Even their babes were raised on the blood of the kill, no different than other predators.

Nalmet could only watch from a distance, however, as the child was fed by its mother, thick stew scooped up with a spoon and fed into the child’s mouth. None of the mothers would let Nalmet approach, so he studied from afar, noting the differences in physique. The children were of various muscularities depending on age. Newborns, thin limbed and no more than a third of a meter in height with no horns to speak of, though still able to walk several hours after birth. The adolescents had begun to show the impressive growth of the species, explosively surpassing humans in average weight and height, though Nalmet stood taller than them all, their horns only just budding from their skulls. The adults, however, were of another kind, each surpassing him in height by half a meter, often more, and outweighing him to a degree that couldn’t be guessed at.

“Is the child done?” he asked the mother. She snorted in his direction, the young cuddled beside her, lightly snoring.

“Is done, talker.” He stood, the Khor mother moving her arms to hide the babe from his sight. He did not move in her direction, instead walking to the other side of the village. The eating habits of the young was not what he’d expected. Khor were born with fully formed teeth and ate solids from day one, forgoing the usual mammalian process of drinking their mother’s milk, for which he was uncertain if they even produced any.

On the other side of the village Nalmet approached one of the only Khor that did not mind his attention. A young female, she was one of few adults who had not yet given birth. From her appearance it could be assumed that birth did not substantially change their bodies, as there was little visible difference.

“How are you?” he asked. The Khor, Ura, sharpened the end of a thick branch, a pile of the stake-like spears to her side.

“Fine,” she replied. He studied her, noting the difference in sizes. The species exhibited sexual dimorphism in the same manner as other mammals, female Khor growing less than males, most only reaching Nalmet’s own height and lacking in muscle size and weight.

“Do you plan to mate?” he asked. The question was blunt, but the Khor did not care, Ura least of all. They were a blunt species.

“Galal,” she said, turning in his direction for but a moment. She was the third to respond that way. They seemed to desire him, if they possessed such a concept. He was a fine specimen. It could not be held against them.

“No one else?” She looked around the camp, then turned back to face him.

“Maybe you,” she said. Was it humor? Did they have such things? A question for later, once their biology was understood.

“May I see it again?” Ura responded by opening her legs, revealing her pubic region to him, just as she’d done before. Bold, by human standards, but the Khor had been very considerate of his requests. Their genitals appeared no different than humans, albeit larger than average. Humans were mostly unique in the genital region, possessing proportionally large members and lacking the baculum found in other animals, including apes. The Khor being so similar in this region, as well as in their bipedalism and overall musculature… what it meant, he couldn’t say. “That’s enough.”

Ura went back about her work, scraping shavings of bark off with a rock. They had no end of surprises, and at the same time no end to their predictability. A Beastmaster of his years should have expected no less, but disappointment still crept in, the cravings of discovering some childish fantasy ever present.

He shook his head back to reality, standing at the edge of the village homes as he looked upon them carrying about their lives and their orders. A fence of split tree trunks had been hoisted around the perimeter, though it only surrounded the south side as of now, the women chopping tree logs in two while the men dug into the earth to plant them. Even Galal worked away, carrying the half-logs to the village edge and steadying them as the others surrounded the base with dirt. Nalmet was not an architect, nor a warrior. If they would hold or not, he didn’t know, though even Galal had had difficulty knocking them over. If he could not do it, then they must have been sturdy indeed.

Approaching the field of cattle, a familiar whiff of manure struck him. The cattle, a mix of beef and dairy, were grass fed animals, adequately taken care of by the villagers that once claimed these lands. In their absence, the task had fallen to Nalmet while he taught his methods to the Khor. They were hunters, scavengers. The act of raising and farming was unknown to them, worsened by the pungence of blood that seemed to soak into their fur, making the cattle weary of their presence.

It was an unremarkable duty, lacking in the ways of the mind, but it allowed him to study the Khor. Their habits, their intelligence. How they would pick up knowledge easily, though to innovate themselves seemed beyond them as of yet. It could not be helped. Even humans produced few innovators.

Sunlight faded, the day done, and Nalmet walked to his quarters, a home on the edge of the village, close to the cattle. He was not secluded, sectioned off like some outcast, but he lived alone. It was a strange feeling. To be used by what he once considered beasts, to be the one studied, rather than strictly the studier. An odd feeling indeed.