“Asha, I hope you’ll forgive me for believing Farlanders were incapable of kindness.”

Light from outside the den reflects off the edges of the Chevil’s tattered facial feathers, drawn into a kind-hearted smile. Summoned by the elderly Kin, Kuro and I flew to the highest den at Flat Rock, the one perched at the top of the rock itself. Kuro explained to me before we entered that the ‘Chevil’ is the leader of a Lithan settlement and is typically the oldest Kin there.

“Oh! It’s quite all right,” I chirp. “I felt the same surprise when I first met Kuro and Enyll. I had no idea Lithans could… well, any of this.” I gesture my wings open in a vain attempt to characterize everything around me — the den I was in, the camp I was at, the conversation I was currently having. “Farlanders believe Lithans are senseless monsters. The past day has been eye-opening, to say the least.”

A wicked wind blew smoothly over the rock above us, disturbing some of the down feathers near the den’s entrance. It’s cool and damp here, lit only by daylight filtering in from the outside. Feathers cover the ground, and though I can’t quite make it out from here, there appears to be something in the back of the den that resembles bedding. It’s no Lordanou Palace, but for a Lithan, I’d imagine it’s pretty posh to have your den somewhere guaranteed to be safe.

The Chevil nods in understanding, twisting the long whiskers growing from his gray muzzle. “Untold seasons have passed between our people. We live on the same moon and follow the same god of creation, yet our paths have never crossed before. I believe we can learn much from each other, and you could be the key to that, Asha.”

“I’m glad you believe that,” I say with a tinge of anxiousness, remembering the one Kin who was hostile to my arrival at Flat Rock. “It seems not everyone is as open-minded about my appearance as you are.”

“Well, Relmoon can be a feisty one. Isn’t that right, Daughter-Of-Mecali?”

Sitting next to me this whole time, Kuro lifts her head and grunts. “Yeah, I guess ‘fiesty’ is one way to describe that mud eater.”

The tawny Lithan chuckles to himself, “Despite what you think, Relmoon is a sensible Dragon. I’m sure that, given enough time, he would warm to the idea of a Farlander.’

I sure hope so. There’s clearly some well-known hostility between Kuro and Relmoon, and I hope he won’t treat me any differently just because Kuro was the one who found me in Felra. What would happen if I learned how to turn back to normal and some Dragon still had a grudge against me? Would they follow me back to Varecia and try to cause problems? I’d better not get on anyone’s wrong side while I’m here.

“By the way, Kuro. How has your den arrangement with Enyll gone?” The Chevil changes the subject. Was he the one who ordered Kuro to share a den with Enyll?

I glance over to see her slightly raised hackles. “As you predicted, the flock have been well-fed because of us. Asha can personally attest to our skill as a team when tracking prey.”

“Good,” he says contentedly. “I knew you two would be effective together. With that said… I’d like you to stay denned through frostwing.”

“What!?” Kuro hisses. Her brow curls, and her wings droop to the ground in shock. “Share my den for two whole seasons?!”

“Kuro…” the Chevil lowers his voice and keeps his tone steady. “I know this is disappointing to learn. But I don’t have to remind you how many lives were lost in frostwing or how many mothers are brooding in greenwing. The flock must be fed, and you and Enyll are our best unpaired hunters.”

Kuro stares into the ground below her, dragging her claws along the edges of stones. Her dejection drifts off and begins to make me feel bitter as well. When I asked Kuro about her den yesterday, she became quite distant from me. It was clear she wasn’t enjoying living with Enyll, despite how efficiently they hunted together. I understand the flock needs to be fed in winter, but… surely there must be some other way. How can she keep her den to herself and still hunt with Enyll?

For the life of me, I wish I could interrupt their conversation and ask. But as an outsider, it would be inappropriate. I have to respect their ways and customs regardless of how painful it may feel to me personally.

The Chevil moves to nuzzle his face against Kuro’s, but she doesn’t respond. He pulls his age-marred face back and exhales softly, waiting patiently for a response. It seems it’s also pained him to force this decision on her… I’m sure there’s something between this two that I’m missing. Something painful.

A breeze rustles the down feathers at the den entrance, and I hear her breathing grow tenser. After a long silence, she finally answers, “…All right,” into the stones below her, unable to bring herself to face the Chevil directly. He silently acknowledges her and dips his wings.

I wish I knew what was going through Kuro’s head right now. It’s not fair to sit and watch her in this painful moment after all she’s done to help me.

Perhaps I should try shifting the conversation to another topic.

“Chevil…” I trail off, suddenly overcome with realizing just how weird it is that he doesn’t have a given name. Then I feel stupid, realizing that I hadn’t asked him yet. “Do you have a name you’d prefer I address you by?”

“Oh!” he laughs, the jollity of his voice fully restored. “Goodness, I so seldomly meet wholly new Dragons that I completely forgot to introduce myself,” he pauses and mantles his wings slowly before me. “I am Bonello, Son-Of-Amsuli, and Chevil of Flat Rock.”

“Princess Asha Lordanou, heir apparent to the Lilac throne of Ellyntide.” I reintroduce myself, mantling my wings back and dipping my head low. He seems amused at just how long my name is. “Bonello, I have a question. I wish to join your flock so that I may be trained on how to hunt and survive as a Lithan. Eventually, my goal is to find a way to turn back into a Lemur so I can see my family again. When I go before the Elders at White Mountain, do you think they’ll allow me to speak to Keuvra?”

Bonello’s head tilts. “You don’t know how to hunt?”

I quickly apologize and give him an abridged version of the story I told Kuro last night, the one about food in the Farlands and how someone like me could live their entire life without knowing how to hunt. With the story finished, I look up to find that his expression had changed; his eyes narrowed, and his face was sour.

“I see,” he speaks slowly, scraping his talons against the ground as he rises. “A Farlander wishes to join the flock and become Keuvra’s Kin. I never thought…” he trails off and paces around the back of the den with his head held low in contemplation. After a pass around his bedding, he raises his head abruptly. “No, absolutely not. The Elders would never allow an inferior species an audience before Keuvra.”

My heart sinks hearing him deliver his verdict. “But I’m not a Lemur! I’m every bit a Lithan as you are!” How could you look at my feathers and still believe I was an ‘inferior’ species?

“You are still an outsider,” he rumbles, lifting his head high above mine. “Regardless of your appearance, you are unfamiliar with our stories and traditions.”

My feathers puff in frustration hearing another Kin act so closed-minded. “But you allow loners into your flock. You grant Kin like Ykuvi an opportunity to learn your ways but believe I’m ineligible solely because of who I was at birth.”

“A loner must live with the consequences of what you are responsible for.”

My body stiffens, hearing Bonello’s voice bellow through the corners of the den. I flick my eyes to Kuro and try to gauge her reaction to see if she might agree with the blathering of this senile old man. But while she’s intently paying attention to us, her expression is flat and guarded. She’s keeping `her feelings close to herself. “How could I be responsible for something if we just met?” I ask Bonello, gritting my teeth to try and stop bitterness from seething into my voice.

He stares at me a moment before the disdain on his face softens a little. “No, I suppose it is not you, personally, who is responsible,” his feathers relax, and he ambles past me towards the hole in the rock that is the entrance to his den. He sits and folds his wings by his sides, staring off at something in the distance. “…But your Kin are.”

My agitation subsides a little. It sounds like he’s come to his senses about blaming me for something I didn’t do, but… what’s this about my kin?

“When I had just come of age, many seasons ago…” he trails off and clears his throat with a hoarse cough. “My father would take me deep into the Farlands searching for prey. They’re quite small there, as I’m sure you’re aware. But they were dumb, always plentiful, and we could hunt in warmwing without upsetting the competition for prey in Felra. I have fond memories of me and my father, our bellies full of easy prey, perched on top of mountains glowing in the planetlight…” he turns to examine me, allowing diffuse light to outline the age in his facial feathers. “Tell me, Farlander. Does that make you upset?”

So, that’s what this is about. He’s old enough to remember the days centuries ago when Lithans still visited Ellyntide regularly. “You took prey from our farmers, prey that was destined for us. But that was a long time ago, long before I was born. No, It doesn’t affect me.”

Nobody knows why Lithans stopped visiting Ellyntide and confined themselves to the northern reaches of Sarlain. But in hearing a Lithan tell the tale, it all begins to make sense. A pang of regret swells inside me, understanding where Bonello’s story will lead.

“Hmph,” he grunts in disappointment, unsatisfied by my response. “Back then, I found it strange. For all the prey we took, we were rarely challenged by Farlanders,” he pauses to renter the den and adds, “But then the airship-prey came.”

A deep, frustrated sigh is released, and he begins pacing around me. “For a time, there were only a few foul-smelling beasts. We could avoid them, and they avoided us. But soon, they bred and swarmed the skies like mad starlings, chasing us down and making it impossible to visit the areas we once thrived in,” He suddenly stops and lifts his wings. “Why would you invite those miserable creatures onto your lands?!”

“We…” I hesitate, recalling that Kin believe Farlanders are consumed by airships. It would be futile to try and explain the entire story. “…Use airship-prey as transportation. We learned how to command them to fly to islands once only accessible by Avians.”

In reality, the invention of the airship fundamentally changed ascendant life on Jade. Lemurs, Martens, and Rabbits met face-to-face for the first time since the continents were raised. Our societies flourished as links of trade and culture formed between us.

It also heralded a dark chapter with the rise of nation-states and war.

But for Lithans, it’s clear it also had a profound impact on them. Farmers soon realized that the farms close to aerodromes were far less likely to have their livestock taken by Lithans. Pilots were hired solely to patrol the agricultural areas of Ellyntide, and some of the more thrill-seeking ones would search out Lithans to chase them away. Nobody was sure why the largest predator species on the moon rarely fought back.

But now I understand their perspective. They see airships as noxious-smelling, lumbering monsters with armor that’s challenging to penetrate and a body that explodes when it dies. For a creature already weary of the destructive power of fire, that’s terrifying. Why would you risk your life to make the dangerous crossing to the Farlands, only to encounter measly prey and terrifying monsters?

Bonello sighs and shakes his head. “Some prey is still taken from the Farlands, but only a fraction of what we used to rely on. Competition with False-Kin increased, and the forstwings became harsh.” He turns to me with eyes full of pain. “Do you understand what your Kin’s selflessness brought to us?”

For a moment, the silence stretched between us. Outside, I hear the rising cries of kits and fledges playing in the grass below. How many of their voices will be extinguished by the coming winter?

“Yes,” I whisper. “It’s terrible to learn how the airship-prey impacted your flock. I wish there were some way our people could have communicated with each other sooner.”

Perhaps it’s because I have to be the representative of all ascendant animals in front of the flock, but I can’t help but feel remorse over the consequences of airship travel. How could we have known the pain we were causing them?

Bonello steps forward, moving in close to rub his muzzle against mine. For the first time, I feel the sensation of another Lithan’s feathers... another Lithan’s compassion. His scent, cool like the walls surrounding him, envelops and calms me. I reciprocate the kind gesture.

“Then you must understand how difficult it will be to convince the Elders to accept you,” he says, pulling his head back. “I believe we can learn much from each other, and I feel the pain of your plight. But to join our flock and truly become one of us… that is hard to accept.”

I nod slowly, wishing I could sink into the ground below me. I should have expected something like this. Why would they accept someone so wholly alien to join them? Maybe I was foolish to ever consider this plan.

“Kuro,” Bonello speaks up. “Take her to White Mountain. Her fate rests on the elder’s wings.”

Kuro makes a slight noise of acknowledgment, and her scent drifts over me again. “Come on,” she says softly. Reluctantly I stand, but there’s something I want to know before I leave.

“Bonello,” I say, raising my head back up. “Enyll said he would not vie for me. Would you?”

Enyll and Ykuvi talked about vying for me in front of the elders last night. I don’t know what the process of letting me into the flock entails, but having someone who thinks you should be there seems essential. If Enyll won’t do it, then I feel I’m going to need all the help I can get.

Bonello averts his gaze and stares off at something unseen. After a long pause, he sighs and says, “…I don’t know, Asha. I really don’t know.”