Joa, the red furred ape, lumbered towards where he knew Iago would be sitting. The foolish human always went to the same place, a placid spot on the banks of the Cloven River, whose many branches twisted through and around The Awakened Forest. Surrounded by nothing but green grass and a scattered grouping of dandelions and some purple lilies, Iago had made it a habit to sit and stare into the gentle flow while he sulked.

The flowers curled and smoked as he passed, but Joa paid them no mind. The Sword of the Ancestor Tree lay in the grass beside Iago, and Joa itched to pick it up and bring it back to where it belonged. It felt…wrong to see it on the ground, let alone next to a human.

He shook his head. Better it be on the ground of the Forest for which it was created than mounted on the wall of a human’s home as a trophy. Iago’s arms were on his knees, and his gaze didn’t move from the river as he sat down beside him.

They were both quiet for a time, watching the river. Iago because he was still sulking, and Joa because he didn’t know what he was supposed to say. Why had Dannious put him up to this, again?

More time passed.

“Is that really how they think of me, Joa?” Iago asked.

Joa was momentarily startled – he had forgotten Iago would likely speak soon. Humans. – and zoned out thinking of defenses for the Forest.

“What do you mean?” He responded. It felt stiff coming out, not at all how he intended, but Iago didn’t seem to mind or notice.

“I’ve tried so hard to keep them safe. I fight day in and day out to protect them. I bleed for them, kill for them, and weep for them when I fail. You’ve seen me, fought side by side with me against the poachers.” He shook his head. “Why do they still not trust me? Not just the Elders, everyone in the Forest. I don’t know what else I can do.”

Joa sat in silence for a few moments. Iago must have assumed he was thinking, which wasn’t necessarily false, so he didn’t interrupt. Internally, Joa had no idea what Iago expected him to say. So, he spoke his mind instead.

“Whose side are you on?”

Iago looked at him, startled, and not a little bit hurt. Oops. “You too, Joa? Do none of you trust me?”

Joa shrugged. “It was just a question, Iago. Whose side are you on? Are you on the side of the Beasts, or the humans? Which are you a member of?”

“Beasts.” He said immediately.

Joa shook his head and turned back to the river.

“Then why do you keep referring to us as ‘they?’”

“That’s unfair, Joa. None of you-“ he paused for a moment. “I don’t fit in. I’m not accepted, despite my best efforts. I have never harmed a Beast, and I’ve dedicated my life to their…to the protection of the Forest. What else should I do?” He almost yelled the last word, and for the first time during their conversation Joa clearly saw his tension. Perhaps he should be sympathetic. He wasn’t.

“Nothing.” Joa said.

“What?”

“Nothing.” He shrugged. “There’s nothing you can do to be accepted, Iago. Stop trying.” He pondered for a moment, searching for anything else he’d like to add, but came up blank. He nodded instead.

“You don’t accept me either, Joa?” He sounded genuinely hurt. Joa wasn’t sure why. “We’ve fought side by side, time and time again, and even you don’t?”

Perhaps he really didn’t understand. Joa couldn’t possibly imagine it, but Dannious had always told him that Iago was…slower than most of the Beasts.

“Iago,” he spoke as if to a child, but Iago didn’t notice. If anything, he seemed to prefer the tone. Humans. “If you left the Forest, what would happen?” Iago was startled, so he clarified. “Purely hypothetically.”

“It would fall?” He sounded unsure and gave a small shrug.

Joa shook his head, for many reasons. “No, it would not. We defended ourselves long before you came, and if you left, we would continue to do so all the same, but that isn’t what I was asking. If you left the Forest, what would happen to you?”

“I…I don’t know. Defending the Forest is all I know. What I’m meant for, even.” Iago gave a glance to the sword at his side. Joa rolled his eyes.

“I’d find a way to help from the outside, infiltrating groups of poachers or striking them where they’re most vulnerable. Surely, I could still contribute, even if I wasn’t directly in the Forest itself.”

Joa held off from shaking his head at the idiocy of that statement, but managed. Dannious would be proud.

“Do you notice that nowhere in your description did you mention hiding from all humans, many of which want to kill and harvest your organs and hide for raw resources they can acquire nowhere else?” Iago opened his mouth to respond, but Joa continued. That was rude, Dannious would tell him, but he wasn’t here. If the rat wanted it done his way, he could have come instead. Well, he couldn’t have, not with the council meeting, but he could have sent someone else.

“You don’t fit in, Iago. You never will. You are not a Beast. You are a human. Even your plan revolved around your status as a human. I could not do what you described, because I am incapable of living anywhere except for the Forest. I am under the threat of being hunted and harvested every day of my life, and I have lived for a long time. And I am a child compared to many of the Elders of the Forest.” When Iago offered no response, Joa took it as an invitation to continue. He could hear Dannious now, telling him to slow down, and be gentle. He pushed it away. He respected the chief, but he also babied Iago.

“You wish to change their minds about you? Too bad. You can’t, and you likely never will. Why do you fight, Iago?”

His question snapped Iago back to reality. “To protect the Forest, and the Beasts inside.”

“Is it? Is that why you fight? Because that is not how you act. If you were told that you would never receive the acceptance of the Beasts, and that you would remain an outsider forever, would that destroy your desire to fight? Because that is the reality you live in. If you fight to protect the Forest, then pick up your sword and get back to what you claim to live for. If your desires are shaken, then leave it where it is and leave the Forest forever, because it isn’t about you, Iago.” Joa realized he’d started shouting somewhere in there. Steam rose in clouds above the nearby river, the edges of Iago’s robes were singed, and the grass was blackened for dozens of feet all around. Oops. Dannious would scold him for this, again. As he had many times. Joa could hear the sigh already.

He kept his tone level this time. “I fight for the Forest because I must. It is my home, and the only place I or my kin can safely live in this world without being harvested like crops. You fight for the Forest because you want to. We are not the same. You could leave the Forest any time you want and live a normal life without fear of having your children harvested for their organs in the night because they strayed too close to the edge of civilization.” Iago flinched from his example. So, he knew. Joa briefly wondered who’d told him but discarded the thought. He could feel the heat burning deeper in his chest, and knew it was time for the conversation to end.

He stood a moment longer, but ultimately decided to turn away. He didn’t know what else to say, in any case.

Dannious’ voice already began gently scolding him in his head while he swung himself from tree to tree in the direction of his preferred outpost. Just as clear, however, he could imagine Portho’s rumbling laugh and deep satisfaction – paired with a hearty slap on the back, of course – at the description of his conversation.

Neither figment was enjoyable.

The trees he touched received black marks the shape of his fingers as he grew closer to the outpost. He almost hoped for there to be Poachers; he needed something to vent his frustrations against.

* * *

Iago was sitting in the grass staring into the rapids when the bird landed on his shoulder. A white and red-striped sparrow dug into his skin through the thin cloth of his shirt with its talons, and gave a deliberate caw into his ear. Iago turned his head to look at it. It fluttered off his shoulder, landing in the blackened grass, beak turned up in his direction.

“Yes, Duan?” He tried keeping the emotion from his voice, but failed miserably.

“Caw.” Duan responded. Iago smothered a spike of annoyance; the tiny bird could speak perfectly fine but refused to. It was infuriating. The bird jerks its head behind it.

Iago stared. “Duan please, just explain what you want from me.”

“Caw.” This time, the tone was distinctly annoyed. Iago stared into the bird’s eyes, and felt himself being sucked in, like he was moving through a tunnel at a rapid pace.

A breath later and he was bombarded with dozens of alien sensations. The wind under his wings, ruffling feathers while keeping him aloft. His hearing was far more acute than it was usually – he could hear potential predators and prey in the underbrush far beneath him, and his talons tightened in response.

Most disorienting, however, was the eyesight. He could make out the individual leaves of the trees far beneath him, the spots of color from berries in a bush, and more. It took him a moment to realize his surroundings, but when he did, he became irritated. What was Duan doing at the edge of the Forest?

It was this eyesight that allowed him to spot the caravans.

A train of caravans miles long stretched out into the distance, resembling a line of ants. They went up and down hills and trekked through the vast plains that made up the land for dozens, maybe hundreds of miles outside of the Forest. At the end of the line was the small town developed for poachers, nearly doubled in size from the last time Iago saw it, only growing from the temporary tents that were being erected even as he watched. A small group of individuals were moving towards the edge of the Forest, maybe two dozen in total. He tilted his wings and turned, back in the direction of the Forest…

Iago stumbled back and fell, holding himself up by his arms, breathing hard. His head pounded with pain as his own senses returned, the overwhelming sensation leaving him being as big of a shock as when they entered. Duan watched him with what Iago assumed was smug amusement.

“Caw.” In a tone of “Like I said, idiot.”

He met the sparrow’s milky eyes again, though he almost flinched back from doing so, no vision occurred.

“Show the others. But first-.”

He picked up the Ancestor’s Sword and stood, the fire inside him kindling once more.

“Where.”

He could sort out how he felt later; for now, he had a job to do.