Felra.

A wholly unexplored continent, obscured from the rest of the moon since the beginning of civilization itself — an unbroken, unspoiled monument to life outside of the reaches of technology and greed.

Except, erm, not really.

For generations, the siren call of adventure led countless animals to explore ‘The Northern Continent’. While most of those brave animals failed to reach land, some lucky explorers slipped past the watchful eyes of xenophobic Kin and territorial Redaga. The most infamous of these attempts was the McKerras expedition — a flotilla of small, lightly armed, and fast-flying airships that set out from Sarlain on a scientific journey to explore as much of the continent as possible. They believed advances in technology could make their ships faster than a Dragon and able to withstand attacks from their powerful jaws.

Almost thirty years ago, six vessels approached the southern edge of the continent by the cover of fog. With their next-generation boilers, the ships were quieter and faster than any that came before them, providing a crucial advantage as they snuck into the continent over an area I now know to be called, ‘Vito’s Forest.’ Besides surveying the landscape, they were able to land and collect samples from one of the many clearings Lithans created.

But six noxious-smelling airships don’t go unnoticed forever. At first, they were accosted by two Lithans who worked to attack the lead vessel. The other ships deployed their steam gunners in response, but none could land a shot against the swift-flying Dragons. Soon, others arrived, and it wasn’t long before all but one of the vessels was swarmed by Lithans attacking all sides of the hull. The ship that landed to collect samples had the foresight to retreat to a safer distance when the flock appeared. The captain was later branded a coward, but his cowardice gave him a head start for the strait back to Sarlain. The last thing they saw was the lead vessel of the expedition cratering into the ground, exploding into a fantastic ball of smoke and flame.

On the night of my arrival in Felra, I promised Kuro I would explain the ‘truth’ about airship-prey. I have a tremendous respect for the flock’s culture and beliefs, which is why it feels so… slimy? Maybe that’s the wrong word. But I can’t help feeling bad when I play along with them and act like airships are living, breathing ferals. Part of my acceptance into the flock was based on that belief, and it bothers me every time I think about it.

I need to set the record straight, which is why we’ve arrived at the crash site of The Mezonnia: the lead vessel of the McKerras expedition.

When I first proposed we visit the area, I was expecting Kuro to tell me the event happened long before she was born. After all, even though she calls me fress, we seem to be around the same age. So it surprised me when she exclaimed, ‘You know about that?!’

‘Y-Yeah,’ I said. ‘Everyone in the Farlands knows the story of the McKerras expedition. Why?’

‘Asha, I was there!’

She was young — barely a fledgling by her estimation. Kuro was with her mother when the cries from the forest first reached Flat Rock. Enthralled by the tales of the Farlands she had heard all her life, she insisted she wing along with her to see the fantastic beasts with her own eyes. After a brief argument, her mother relented, and they flew side-by-side to Vito’s Forest.

“Here,” says Kuro. She angles her ears, pointing across the overcast sky towards a small, tree-covered island. “This is where I saw the airship-prey die.”

Obviously, Kuro was far too young to fight during the battle. So she watched it from afar, giving her a unique vantage point as five airship-prey ‘died’ before her eyes — what an incredible sight that must have been. Even before we arrived at the small island, I noticed the land below us change. Usually, the forests of Felra are old-growth with dense ground cover, interspersed by the occasional clearing that Kin groom for their own uses. But here, above Vito’s Forest, large swaths of land show burn scars characteristic of large fires. It twists my stomach into knots, thinking about all the destruction those ships caused.

Now past the island, Kuro tips her wings and leads us into a descent towards the ground, giving me a better sense of the scene below. The trees still standing are young and sparse, growing up in between the charred forest that came down that fateful day. As Kuro leads us over the top of a knoll, we get our first glance at what we came to see.

Tomcat gasps, “Is that—”

“Yup,” I answer. “The remains of an airship-prey.”

Aluminum litters a vast swath of discolored ground where no tree grows, twisted, warped, and piled on top of one another like discarded children’s toys. While all the organic material has long since withered away, the rigid frame of the vessel is still partially intact, rising from the ground like the bones of a gigantic ribcage. Presented to them this way, it’s no surprise Kin believe airships to be feral beasts.

Tomcat swallows hard and shakes her head. “Kuro, I-I don’t know about this.”

“There’s nothing to be afraid of,” Kuro reassures her with a steady voice. After a moment’s silence she adds, “Right, Asha?”

“It’s completely safe,” I say, aware I’m answering both of them. “Let’s land in the middle of the wreck. Keep an eye on your talons and watch for the aluminum beams.”

“The what?”

SCREECH!

I snatch the initiative from Kuro and call our landing. If I’m going to teach them what an airship truly is, then we may as well start now. As we lower from the sky, I spot a small area of ground free of the wreckage and bring us down. I’m the first to land, flanked by Kuro and Tomcat shortly thereafter. As they stretch their wings from th,e flight their heads pan around, switching their gazes anxiously from the piles of debris to the looming frame of the ship. While no trees grow, the ground is thick with ve,getation and a heavy carpet of moss covers the lower reaches of the frame. Green tendrils hang like scruffy fingers from the rusted beams of the ship.

Tomcat sniffs the cool air, and her face grimaces. “What is that stench?”

“Prey scent,” Kuro replies with a tinge of disgust. “Even in death, airship-prey smell rotten.”

Tomcat shoots a glance toward me, perhaps deferring for an explanation. But instead of offering one, I simply nod in response. Who am I to disagree — all this rusting metal smells awful to my Lithan nose.

Tomcat gingerly steps over a twisted pile of aluminum and examines the lattice frame of the ship up close. She stretches her neck to smell a piece of hanging moss, draws a breath, then taps it with her snout. It sways forward gently before returning to tap her against the nose.

“Ooohhh!” she shivers, snapping her neck back and stamping her talons. “I can’t believe we’re in the stomach of an airship-prey!! This is so creepy! Asha, how can you stand being eaten by them when they’re alive?!”

“Well,” I say, clearing my throat and drawing a breath. As usual, my work is cut out for me. “I have a bit of a confession to make: Farlanders aren’t eaten by airship-prey. Airship-prey aren’t alive.”

“What?!” Kuro gasps. “They’re all dead?!”

“They were never alive to begin with,” I clarify. “Airships are creations of Farlanders, built with raw materials to serve a singular purpose: allowing Lemurs, Martens, and Rabbits to fly.”

Kuro’s body turns stiff as a snake plant. She exchanges a disbelieving glance with a speechless Tomcat and takes a provocative step forward. “That’s impossible. And, it’s not what Keuvra teaches us! Asha, how could you possibly claim such a thing?!”

“Kuro,” I keep my voice steady, trying not to sound to sound arrogant. “Haven’t you ever wondered why Farlanders have such weird dens?”

“O-Of course I have,” she replies, trying to keep her own voice steady. “But what does that have to do with airship-prey?”

“It means you’ve considered Farlanders create things you don’t understand. Where on Jade do you think we find the materials to build our dens?”

After a silent moment of contemplation she concedes, “…I don’t know. Sometimes your dens smell vaguely of fallen trees, but the colors are way too strange to be from any tree I know.”

Locating her voice, Tomcat rejoins us and adds, “I always thought your dens were grown. Like how Kuro’s den is in the roots of an old tree.”

Hmm. It seems they’re capable of understanding things can be created, but they still default to natural explanations. Perhaps a visual aid would help? “Come look at this,” I say, beckoning with my wings to follow.

I lead them to one of the larger piles of debris situated under the frame of the ship; twisted, heat warped aluminum beams and charred steel from the armor of the vessel. I examine it up close as Kuro and Tomcat approach, hoping to locate any markings left in the Goddess language — partially to prove this material has been altered by Farlanders, and partially to verify if I can in fact still read the Goddess language. But the aluminum is too heat-warped, and the steel plating never had markings to begin with. Drats. Time for plan B!

“This is aluminum,” I say, holding my wing low over one of the beams. “And this is steel. These materials don’t occur naturally on Jade. Instead, Farlanders created them. To create them, we…”

Wait a second. How do you create aluminum and steel? A furnace? Or something?

I fluff my feathers. “…use a very complicated process. But this is some of the stuff we use to make an airship. And our dens smell faintly of trees because we make them out of trees! We cut them down, run them through like, a sawmill, and then you pound some nails with a hammer, and…”

I trail off abruptly. Kuro and Tomcat are staring at me with blank expressions. “Er, sorry. Went a little too fast. The point I’m trying to make is that these aren’t a living creature’s bones. They’re just… stuff. Stuff that Farlanders learned how to cobble together to create something that can fly.”

Kuro stares silently at the pile of debris and releases a long sigh. She steps forward, runs the tips of her feathers over one of the beams and closely examines the flakes of rust imparted on them. “It’s not that I don’t believe you, Asha. It even makes a bit of sense if you remember the story of how Felra was raised.” She shakes her wing of the rust and folds it back against her. “But Keuvra teaches us airship-prey are alive, the very same prey I’ve been teaching you how to hunt. Why would he mislead us about what they truly are?”

“I’ve been wondering the same thing,” I say, staring at the sky. “I’ve thought about it a lot, and I’m still unsure why. If he didn’t want Kin to know the truth, then why is he allowing me to tell it?”

I should be on the receiving end of some divine judgment right about now. There has to be a reason why Keuvra withheld the truth from the flock. Of course, the deities are under no obligation to reveal anything to ascendant animals — their job is to guide their respective species within the rules Azurrel established. But why would he so flippantly mislead them? As usual, it seems the more I learn about my impossible situation, the more questions arise.

Kuro looks away and gazes off into the trees beyond the wreckage. She must be having a tough time trying to internalize this revelation. I can’t say I blame her.

Tomcat releases a sigh of her own. “This is… this is so much to take in. Airship-prey being dead, Farlanders creating their dens… hey, Asha!! I haven’t come of age yet! Aren’t you, like, not supposed to talk about this stuff?”

“Kuro told me a list of everything we can’t talk about,” I explain. “But there’s so much stuff you don’t know about the Farlands, and Meldi never said I couldn’t talk about that!”

“Heh-heh! I like your style, Asha!”

Frope brushes her wing playfully against mine. I take a step back an— AAH!

SKREAK!!

Hot pain lances the side of my foreleg.

“Asha!!”

Incapable of reacting, the world tumbles as my leg buckles under intense pain. I flail, trying to prop up the front half of my body but end up faceplanting the ground.

“Oof!!”

I grit my teeth, feeling warm blood trickle down the side of my leg. What the hell just happened!?

“Asha! Are you okay?!”

With my head still stuck in the weeds, I smell Kuro and Tomcat’s scents hovering above me. My leg is in incredible pain, but I’m not dead yet. I strain a painful growl and twitch my wings to acknowledge them.

“I-I think she cut her leg on one of the bones!!”

“Skunkscent! Frope, check how bad it is!”

Writhing in pain, I pull my wing back and allow Tomcat to examine the wound. I feel the warmth from her head, but she’s not saying anything.

Kuro’s feathers rustle impatiently. “Well? How is it?”

“Kuro,” she croaks. “You better take a look at this.”

Huh? What’s going on?

Rapid movements follow. I hear Kuro shove her head through the underbrush.

“What the…”

“Kuro,” I grit my teeth and force myself to talk over the pain. “Is it bad?”

“Asha, it’s… it’s your blood.”

Huh?

What about my blood?

Through overwhelming pain, I grit my teeth and drag my head through the weeds to see what the issue is. As my neck twists around I see Kuro and Tomcat hovering just above my left foreleg, the cause of their concern instantly apparent. A long and jagged laceration has torn open the side of my foreleg from flank to knee. And there, streaming from the wound, is blood.

Purple blood.