The dark forest came alive.

  Not in the way of rustling branches or swaying leaves, but with hunger.

  The trees groaned, shifting unnaturally as tangled vines shot out like striking vipers, lashing at Dante’s legs. Razor-edged leaves fluttered like shuriken, slashing through the air toward him. The metallic scent of sap—if it could even be called that—oozed from the writhing trunks, thick and acrid like molten steel.

  Dante dodged left as a cluster of barbed roots burst from the soil, trying to ensnare him. His wings twitched, useless in their lifeless state, and he barely twisted in time to avoid the clawed branches that lunged for them.

  “What kind of cursed hellhole is this!?” he growled, grabbing a vine and tearing it apart with sheer strength. The forest screamed a high-pitched wail that rattled through the trees, making his teeth clench.

  The moment he destroyed one attacker, three more replaced it. Thorns scraped meaninglessly across his arms due to his hardened skin. Another vine snapped around his ankle like a serpent, yanking him backward.

  Dante roared, ripping it off with brute force, then stomped down on a writhing root that tried to coil around his foot. It pulsed beneath him like it had a consciousness.

  “Oh, you wanna play that game? Fine. Let’s see how much of you I can break before I get out of here.”

  He surged forward. The forest reacted.

  The trees shifted, their trunks contorting, slamming together to block his path. The ground quaked as more roots burst forth, a tangled mass of spikes forming a jagged wall ahead of him. It was trying to box him in.

  Dante inhaled sharply, his mind racing. “Alright, you overgrown weeds. You don’t want me leaving?” He needlessly stretched out his arm. “Then you should’ve made yourself a little tougher.”

  He charged forward like a bullet. The vines scrambled to intercept him, but this time he didn’t dodge—he tore through them, rending them apart with sheer momentum. Leaves and barbs continued to slice at his skin, as though they didn’t know it was ineffective. The world blurred into a mess of metallic silver and shadow as he forced his way through.

  The forest shrieked in agony.

  A tunnel of jagged trees loomed ahead, pulsing with an eerie, bioluminescent glow. The exit. The only way out.

  Dante didn’t slow. He vaulted over a fallen trunk, dodging a pitfall that yawned open beneath him. He landed, rolled, and launched forward as more vines tried to close in. They nearly caught his wings—nearly.

  A second later, he was through.

  The metallic trees ended abruptly as if the forest had been cleaved away. Dante stumbled onto solid ground feeling a wave of relief that it was finally over.

  Behind him, the dark forest quivered. The writhing mass of trees and vines halted just at the threshold, as if unwilling to leave its domain. Its branches curled inward as they retreated into the forest and made screeching sounds.

  Dante glared over his shoulder. “Yeah, I thought so.”

  Then he turned forward, surveying the new land before him. Rolling fields stretched out in every direction, the golden light of a distant sun casting long shadows over what looked like farmlands. The immediate area, however, told a different story.

  Craters littered the landscape. Deep scars marked the earth, long drag marks suggesting that something—or someone—had been violently pulled across the land.

  This had once been a forest too.

  Dante’s fists clenched. “Guess I’m not the only one who angered the trees.”

  His mind flashed to the others. He could only hope they made it out alive.

  He decided to investigate by following the drag marks to see where they would take him. On his way, he noticed a whiff of fresh air compared to the staleness of the dark forest. The smell was the same as when he camped out with his parents as a child.

  After following the drag marks for a few miles, he eventually arrived in a forested area. The trees were normal, unlike the metallic trees he met initially. He saw something scamper by. “Huh, a squirrel? Do I hear bees? And… is that a ladybug? Can it be? A world just like Earth with the same type of animals. Why… that looks just like a gray squirrel I’d see every day on my drive to work!” he said as he followed the drag marks through the forested area. Every sight and sound reminded him of home, as though he walked through that very forest, which was impossible.

  CRA-A-A-CK!

  A thunderous crack split the air, followed by a deep, guttural SWISH as something massive cut through the sky. Then—

  THUMP!

  The ground shuddered beneath Dante’s feet. He froze, ears twitching at the rhythmic chorus of destruction echoing through the forest. Another CRACK. Another THUMP. Trees were torn down, their trunks groaning before crashing to the earth.

  Without his telescopic sight, he had no choice but to investigate the old-fashioned way. His steps quickened, weaving between the underbrush. The sounds grew louder, more layered. Wood splintering, roots snapping, heavy things dragged across the ground, their weight gouging deep trenches into the soil.

  Then he saw them.

  A colossal tree toppled over just ahead, slamming into the dirt with the force of a meteor. Dust and debris plumed into the air. But Dante barely had time to register it before an even larger figure stepped into view.

  A rhinoceros man, built like a walking fortress.

  The beastman barely flinched at the fallen tree. Instead, he gripped the massive trunk with thick, calloused fingers, muscles bulging as he dragged it away like it weighed nothing.

  “Whoa…” Dante exhaled between admiration and disbelief.

  More figures emerged—titanic beings of raw power. Elephantine beastmen worked in tandem, their enormous hands and trunks ripping trees straight from the ground, roots and all, as if they were no more than weeds. Others braced their shoulders against towering trunks and pushed them over with slow, calculated force. CRACK. SWISH. THUMP. Again and again, the landscape changed before his eyes, reshaped by beings with such strength and endurance.

  Dante’s wings twitched as he stood silently, watching the impossible unfold.

  A separate group of behemoths hauled the fallen trees, their footsteps shaking the earth, before hurling them into the river with deep, echoing splashes. The current churned, carrying the broken remains downstream as part of some vast, organized operation.

  Dante was strong, without a doubt. But this—this was a force of nature. Realizing the river was nearby, he knew he was going in the right direction based on Roak’s suggestion. So he followed the massive beasts, “So that’s where those marks came from. Lumberjacks! Not what I expected at all. Guess you don’t need a machine if you have strength like this.” He walked by the group. They took a short gander and went about their business. The beasts were not friendly or mean, they were indifferent. Closer to the river, he saw a beast-man who looked like an elderly elephant-man, his gray, moss-covered skin rough and weathered. The creature was laboriously shifting fallen logs into a winding river. The beast-man was older than the others so he wasn’t quite as agile.

  Dante was intrigued by the creature's stature and charming demeanor. “Excuse me!” he called out.

  The giant beast stopped his work and gawked a sleepy eye at Dante. Then rasped, “Yes, feathery friend?”

  “I uh… hit my head… I can’t remember anything. Do I just follow this river down to Artemis Roost?” Dante inquired. I wonder how long I’ll be using this excuse?

  The creature grumbled, “Hit your head? More like ya got ran over by Largo… ya alright?”

  Dante tried not to look confused, “Yeah, I’m just looking for someone.”

  The elephant-man turned its massive head slowly, side-eyeing Dante in retrospect. With a deep rumble, it gestured downstream with its trunk. The direction was clear, but the creature's silence spoke volumes. He felt like the beast gawked too long, as though he somehow recognized him. With a shrug, he waved goodbye and continued on his path.

  The wide river stretched on, meandering almost endlessly. He felt as though he had been walking for hours. He encountered more strange beings—humanoid creatures resembling geese, hippos, beavers, and crocodiles—methodically pushing logs through the water with synchronized precision. “What a strange world…” he muttered as he passed by. The creatures paid him no mind, continuing their work without a glance.

  “I hope I’m getting close,” he complained to himself as more hours went by. The star, which seemed just like the sun of his world, commenced to set. He couldn’t be sure which direction it was setting but the fact that it was falling proved it was getting late. He did not particularly want to be out alone at night in a strange world. Not with strange creatures surrounding him, not even close. Regardless, he was more or less untouchable, it was still unsettling.

  The night was nearly upon him as the river curved again, and he finally could see an imposing fortress. He jolted into a sprint as he ran to the massive structure. A tall, barred gate stood before him, closed with no visible way to enter. If he could fly, he could easily soar over it. He glanced left and right, noticing stone walls stretching on both sides. Then, his eyes caught a bird-like figure with sleek, falcon features, watching him from above.

  Desperate for guidance, Dante shouted, “Hello! I need to enter the city. Can you assist me?”

  The avian figure cocked its head with a mixture of curiosity and caution. He hopped from his perch and landed in front of Dante. With a point of the spear, “State your business, featherless Furthian!” he screeched.

  What is a Furthian…? I’ve heard this once before… Dante stammered, “I’m looking for someone. I was told by Roak that this is where I should start. I’m assuming this is Artemis Roost?”

  The birdman cocked his head and pointed his spear at Dante’s face. “Sir Roak sent you? What happened to you? Were you attacked by brigands from the north, or, perhaps, intruders from the south? Why are you not in the sky?”

  “I, uh… hit my head, broke my wings, and now I can’t fly. Please, I’m just looking for my friend…” He pleaded.

  The birdman relaxed his guard. “Hmm, yes, this is Artemis Roost. We have a doctor inside, and I highly advise you to see her. If you are looking for someone, you can go to the pub, but I will warn you, our kind is not welcome.”

  Dante stared at him, then at the gate, and back to the birdman. “Um…”

  “Ah, yes, this gate is broken. Go down to the south end of the fortress.” The bird man pointed his spear towards the other entrance.

  Dante bowed. “Thank you for your kindness.”

  The bird-like man tilted his head. He confirmed the intruder was en route to the other gate and then launched to his perch. Dante followed the stone wall, noting the minor wear and tear being repaired by large, giraffe-like people. They side-eyed him as he passed by. He eventually reached the south entrance. The gate was open and much more welcoming.

  Stepping through the steel gates of Artemis Roost, Dante entered a city that felt like a living remnant of an older time. The stone-paved streets stretched before him, flanked by buildings of timber and brick, their steep roofs fortified against the elements. The air smelled of smoke, leather, and the sharp tang of metal, a city on edge, preparing for something.

  The people of the city were again animal-like humanoids. They were dressed in simple but well-made clothes, their movements precise and wary. Blacksmiths hammered out swords and spearheads, their forges glowing like embers in the dim alleys. Armorers fitted soldiers with chain-mail, adjusting straps and testing the weight of shields. Vendors hawked dried meats, salted fish, and hard biscuits, provisions for the various mercenaries and soldiers.

  A hawk-like merchant hunched over a cart stacked with bows and quivers, running a feathery hand over the fletching of an arrow, checking for imperfections. Nearby, a massive boar in a stained apron butchered a regular cow carcass with swift, practiced strokes, his tusks glinting in the torchlight. A group of young recruits—lean, sharp-eyed canines—practiced their sword forms in an open courtyard, their instructor, a grizzled panther, barking corrections as they clashed wooden blades.

  Dante noticed how the townsfolk watched him. Not outright hostile, but suspicious. Their stares lingered too long, and their whispered conversations cut off when he passed. He wasn’t just a stranger—he was, to them, not quite right. A realization that he was not a normal ‘Furthian’ as he had heard from others since his arrival. Bits of hushed words were caught as he moved through the streets.

  “Could it be…?”

  “No. Those are just myths.”

  Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

  “He looks like… but that’s impossible.”

  He could feel a deep tension in the city, and it wasn’t only because of him.

  He had no idea where to go, no clear path through the maze of stone and suspicion. But then, he spotted someone near a well. A cloaked figure standing apart from the others, watching him with something other than fear. Recognition.

  Determined to gather more information, Dante approached the cloaked figure—a parrot-like woman. Her feathers were bright, radiating a charming hue. As he drew closer, he noticed that her eyes seemed distant and unfocused. When he asked where he could find more information, her response was cryptic.

  “The winds whisper secrets in the rustling leaves, and the moon’s silver tears reveal the path to those who listen,” she said. “Seek the Wolf’s Den, where shadows mingle with light.”

  He struggled to decode her words,” Uh, thanks…?” The bird lady just looked up into the sky. Backing away slowly, he was unsure of what was wrong with her. He then heard a sound like a glass breaking just ahead. And there was a sign above the door, The Wolf’s Den just as she said. He thought as he approached the entrance cautiously. “It sounds like a pub. And is that a bar fight I hear?” He sighed, this was not a calm place thus he prepared for hostility. He pushed his way through the heavy doors. Instantly, he noticed the Den was dimly lit and noisy, filled with a rough crowd of bear and wolf-like patrons who eyed him with curiosity and hostility. A smaller wolf man slumped on the floor. Either he had passed out or was knocked out. Dante calmly stepped over him and cautiously approached the bartender. A massive muscular wolfman, hunched over the bar, and scanned him like a piece of food.

  “What do you want, little Furthian?” his voice rasped, “You sure are far from your perch.” He let out a boisterous laugh.

  “Uh, yeah, I, uh, hit my head, and I’m looking for someone…” Dante replied cautiously.

  The bartender's eyes narrowed. “I only serve stiff drinks and I don’t serve your kind. Take your business elsewhere.”

  Dante spotted a group of Furthian guards drinking merrily, “What about them?”

  The bartender glanced over then back and growled, “Honorary guests”

  “Look wolfy, maybe just give me a drink. I’ll mingle with the other bears and dogs here to find what I’m looking for, yeah?” Dante said in a snide tone.

  Suddenly, the bartender's ears pulled back and he snarled. “What did you just call me!? I don’t think I like your tone little birdy.” He stood tall and popped his knuckles, towering over Dante.

  Before Dante could reply, a heavy paw gripped his shoulder, and a large bear-like figure growled. He felt himself being pulled forcibly. “You’re not welcome here. Come with me, little birdy.”

  The tension in the room escalated quickly. As Dante tried to defuse the situation, the hostility from the patrons grew, signaling that violence was imminent. They didn’t seem to take kindly to derogatory words such as dogs or bears. There was a slight misunderstanding on Dante’s part, he wasn’t accustomed to the animal people’s ways. He was not keen on the nuances of the animal people.

  The big wolf bartender hopped over his bar and reared back his fist. He then slammed his fist into Dante’s abdomen. However, there was a massive crunch originating from the wolf’s paw. The big bad wolf pulled back his paw and howled in agony.

  The bear bouncer then attempted to slam Dante to the ground but the beastman found himself unable. Dante then rolled his shoulder, causing the bear-man to lose his balance and fall over. A wolf-man came up behind and slammed a chair on Dante’s back, busting it into pieces. As the wolf-man held the remaining fragments, Dante turned to face him, unimpressed. “How is this even possible!? Could it be!? Let’s get outta here!” The bar erupted into chaos as he watched the patrons dart out of the den through the big door. All that was left were the Furthian guards, trying to finish their booze, watching with disinterest or drunken haze. He looked around the bar, to see if there was anyone else. In a darkened corner, a lone wolf was watching him. Dante gave up and turned to leave the silent establishment until he noticed the lone wolf’s curious gaze. He stopped, eyes locked with the silent creature.

  The creature was a smaller wolf-like man, adorned in a dark red tattered cloak. He eyed Dante with one eye, the other under an eye patch. The wolf blows out a puff of smoke from a fancy golden pipe and then finishes his ale. He couldn’t help but feel a connection with the silver-furred wolfman.

  The wolf stands up and approaches Dante thoughtfully. He then takes another deep drag of his pipe and blows out a massive billow of smoke from his snout before he pops his neck, then, he grunts, “Takes lotsa guts to insult the entire den like that.” He let out a raspy but calm voice. “Course with your physique, guess ya don’t need 'em.”

  Dante felt calm, for once a semi-friendly face that had more to say than a couple words, “What’s your name sir? I’m Dante.”

  “Whoa, sir? Chill out with that talk, Dante. Names Silver. I’m a treasure hunter in these parts as the locals find it. Heard yer lookin’ for someone? Weird way to go about it scarin’ the locals and such.”

  Dante cracked a smile, “I didn’t mean to… But yes, I’m looking for someone. Someone important to me that has something equally important.”

  “Aren’t we all…” Silver snickered, “So who are ya looking for?”

  “How can I put this…” Dante paused, unsure what to say, “He’s tall, reptilian, has wings.”

  “Hmm, sounds like a flying Rezzo,” Silver puffed smoke, “Where’d ya last see 'em?”

  “Well, that’s difficult to explain, but I woke up in a strange forest.” Dante began to explain.

  Silver's eye widened, “A strange forest you say? Ya mean the Sinister Forest? You were there!?”

  Dante stuttered, “Oh, uh, yeah, I hit my head, and now I can’t fly. My wings are broken.” He hung his head in shame for using that same excuse yet again.

  “Is that so.” Silver eyed him suspiciously. “Lost ya wings, huh? Hmmph. So what’s so important about this friend.”

  Dante felt like he could trust the old wolf. “Well, we just kinda arrived here… but this friend could be powerful? Or scared and alone, unsure what to do in such a strange place.”

  “A powerful friend ya say. Hmm… when exactly did ya say ya got here?” Silver took a deep puff of his pipe.

  Dante pursed his lips, “Today? I think. I was asleep… and don't have any memory…”

  Silver let out a big puff of smoke, “Interestin’. So some strange featherless Furthian comes in here, scares the ever-loving tar out of the inhabitants, and has no recollection of any before events, eh?”

  Dante stood still, unsure of how to respond.

  Silver took another puff. “Just so happens that I heard of some strange happenin’s up north. Fires all over the place. Got the whole village in an uproar sayin’ somethin’ flyin’ ‘bout, burnin’ stuff up. Not too long ago.”

  “Did… it happen to have a strange necklace?” He asked cautiously.

  “A necklace eh? Now I ain’t heard ‘bout none o’ that.” His eye lit up.

  “Up north huh? Okay, well I think I can just start heading that way then. Thanks for your kindness.” Dante said as he was passing by the old wolf.

  Silver side-eyed him, “Say… might ya be needin’ some kinda guide?”

  “I don’t think so… It could be dangerous,” He said, feeling down his scraggly leggings, “I don’t have any money anyway to pay you.”

  Silver eyed him again, “Ya don’t say? Hmm… what about that necklace? I’m sure it’ll fetch a nice coin.”

  Dante hesitated and tensed his bottom lip, “Uh, no offense, but I don’t think that’s a great idea…”

  “Hehe, I’ve seen a thing or two Dante, trust me, it’s a great idea.” Silver smiled excitedly, “I haven’t had this scent of adventure in quite some time. C’mon, let’s go to the inn and get a good night's sleep. Ya?” The old wolf stood up and beckoned Dante to follow him.

  “I don’t know… I don’t think you want to get involved in this. I mean you don’t know me. I don’t know you.”

  “Nah, I reckon we get to know one another. Ya an interestin’ thing. Might I add, be a little borin’ round here. I was just waitin’ for the next big score. Big strong fella like you, probably be better ‘bout gettin’ there, ya know?”

  “Well… I guess it would be nice to have some company. Sure, let’s go.” he said reluctantly. He didn’t want to but Silver sure was convincing. He probably doesn’t get much action these days from the looks of it. So the excitement of certain death was more up his alley. He was soon going to find out.

  They made their way to the inn, its wooden sign creaking in the evening breeze. Warm light spilled from the windows, casting arrhythmic shadows across the cobbled street. As they stepped inside, the scent of spiced ale and roasted meat wrapped around them like a welcoming embrace.

  Behind the counter, a mouse-like innkeeper with a wide-brimmed hat perked up at their arrival, his round ears twitching. His beady eyes flicked between them. The mouse man was wary, but his expression softened with curiosity and gratitude when he recognized who had entered. He smoothed down his apron with quick, delicate movements before offering a warm smile.

  “Well now,” he squeaked, his voice bright as his eyes connected with Silver. “You’re a rare sight these days. What brings you to Artemis Roost?”

  “Ah, Pas, how are ya this evenin’?” Silver said, waving his paw.

  “Good, good, who’s your friend?” Pas glanced at Dante, showing his incisors.

  “This here’s Dante.” Silver said as he placed a paw on Dante’s shoulder. “Hit his head, he did. Needin’ a place to crash tonight if yer willin’?”

  Pas became excited, “Sure, sure! Always to help out a dear old friend of mine, come on in, have some ale. Got some good pipeweed for ya!”

  “Gee thanks Pas, glad I passed through after all.” Silver nodded.

  Pas led them through the hallways of the drafty inn. It was cozy nonetheless. The room had two beds and a big window looking out over the rest of the town.

  “A good night's sleep will do ya wonders then we can head out to look for yer friend… and that necklace.” Silver grinned ear to ear, “Then we can sell that necklace, and I’ll get paid and have a great adventure to boot, and you’ll relearn things from yer head hittin'.”

  Dante smiled hesitantly, “I’d like to wander around a bit more if you don’t mind. I don’t sleep these days.”

  The old wolf stretched, took one last massive puff from his pipe, and crashed on the bed. “Fine by me, you’re a grown Furthian, can make ya own choices. Breakfasts in the mornin’ and Pas is quite the cook.”

  Dante nodded. Silver quickly fell asleep, leaving him to reflect on his “lost memory”. Dante walked out of the room and passed the lobby, Pas was at the desk with his big feet on the counter. His hat slid down his nose. Dante could hear the old wolf snore loudly. “Why did I involve myself with this old putz…” He said as he left the inn. “I could just go on my own… I think.” He ventured out for a moonlit stroll and pondered the significance of his encounters. The calm night, bathed in soft moonlight and scattered with stars, offered a brief moment of peace for contemplation.

  As he walked through the quiet streets, he couldn’t help but drift off to his memories of his world. It became such a clear reminder of where he is now. He was there for a reason and only understood partially as to why. “Phantasm… if you can hear me. I need your guidance… should I follow this old wolf? What about you creepy voice thing? Anything you want to add? No?” he then sighed.

  He felt a relaxing calm as if he was instantly answered. He made his way out of the back of the city, and towards a dock. A beach was nearby, so he walked towards it. He couldn’t remember the last time he was at a beach from his home world. The serenity of this beach was no different. He looked out at the horizon, the ocean stretched far and wide.

  The waves lapped rhythmically against the shore, soothing in the unfamiliar world. For a brief moment, the scent of the ocean, the feel of the sand beneath his worn boots, and the salty breeze on his face brought a sense of familiarity, a fleeting reminder of home.

  As he wandered the beach, his mind clouded with doubt, a sweet fragrance caught his attention. He turned toward a nearby bush, heavy with plump, vibrant berries. They looked irresistibly succulent, and though he didn’t need to eat, he decided to try them. He plucked a handful and took a bite, savoring the sweetness that flooded his senses, far surpassing any fruit he had ever tasted.

  But the moment of indulgence was shattered by a small, high-pitched voice. “Stop! What are you doing?”

  Startled, Dante whirled around and braced himself. Instead, he found himself face to face with a petite, rabbit-like woman, her large eyes wide with horror. Her fur bristled with alarm as she hurried toward him.

  “What’s wrong?” Dante asked, concern creeping into his voice as he wiped berry juice from his lips.

  “You’ve eaten the death berries!” she exclaimed, her voice quivering. “They’re incredibly toxic—lethal enough to kill a Vilazun in seconds!”

  Dante lurched as he glanced back at the half-eaten berries in his hand. Yet, as the rabbit woman, who introduced herself as Doctor Tana, babbled on about the poison’s effects, Dante felt no discomfort, no pain, nothing out of the ordinary.

  Tana, not waiting for him to react, grabbed his arm with surprising strength for her size. “We need to get you to my clinic, now!” she insisted, tugging him back toward Artemis Roost.

  Dante walked at a steady pace, unfazed, while Tana practically hovered around him like an overbearing mother hen.

  “You should be dead,” she blurted out for the tenth time, her arms flailing. “Dead. D-E-A-D. Those were death berries. Do you know why they’re called death berries? Because they kill!”

  Dante sighed, rubbing his temples. “Yes, I gathered that from the name. But I feel fine.”

  “No, no, no, no, no!” Tana wagged a finger at him, her ears twitching with sheer exasperation. “You think you feel fine because you’re in shock. That’s what happens when your body is trying to die. It lies to you. It deceives you. You probably have minutes left!”

  Dante gave her a flat look. “Minutes, huh?” He stopped walking and placed a hand on his hip. “So how long has it been since I ate them?”

  Tana paused, counting on her fingers. “…Long enough that you should be convulsing.” She squinted suspiciously. “Are you convulsing?”

  Dante waved his hands at himself. “Do I look like I’m convulsing?”

  “That’s exactly what someone in the early stages of neurotoxic shock would say!” Tana stomped ahead, grabbing his wrist and dragging him along. “No time for arguments, we have to get you treated before you start foaming at the mouth and your eyes pop out.”

  “My eyes pop out?” Dante snorted. “That seems a little extreme.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry, are you a doctor?”

  “No, but I’m the one experiencing this alleged ‘imminent death,’ so I think my opinion should carry some weight.”

  Tana whirled on him. “Oh sure, why don’t we just wait for your lungs to liquefy and then see how much your opinion matters?”

  Dante blinked. “…Lungs liquefy?” I don’t think I even have lungs anymore… this is just too much. He thought, laughing to himself.

  “Yes! That’s stage three if you make it that far! What’s so funny about that!?”

  Dante rolled his eyes. “Oh, well, fantastic. I’ll be sure to schedule my funeral afterward.”

  Tana grabbed his face, squishing his cheeks. “Your sarcasm is not helping. You are dying!”

  He muttered against her grip, “M’not dyin’.”

  She let go with a frustrated huff. “You’re only saying that because your brain hasn’t realized what’s happening yet! It’s denial! Denial is the first step toward death!”

  “I thought denial was the first stage of grief.”

  Tana threw her hands in the air. “Oh, great! You’ve already skipped to bargaining!”

  Dante shook his head and kept walking. “Look, I appreciate the concern, but I promise you, I feel completely normal.”

  Tana twitched her rabbit-like nose, narrowing her eyes. “Hmmm… maybe the toxin is delayed…” She suddenly gasped. “Or—OR—it’s working too fast! Your nervous system could be shutting down as we speak! How’s your vision? Is everything blurry? Do you feel tingling in your fingers? Cold sweat? Internal bleeding?”

  Dante gave her a dry look. “Yes, Tana. I am currently experiencing internal bleeding, and I just forgot to mention it.”

  Tana pointed at him dramatically. “See?! The memory loss is setting in!”

  Dante groaned. “I’m fine.”

  “You’re NOT fine!”

  “I. Am. Fine.”

  They reached her clinic, just as Tana huffed in frustration and smacked his arm. “You are the worst patient ever.”

  Dante smirked. “Yet, somehow, still not dead.”

  Minutes stretched into hours as Tana studied him, her furrowed brow reflecting deep concentration. Finally, she stepped back, shaking her head in disbelief. “You’re… not Furthian, are you? What are you? Broken wings, but they feel like metal and sharp as razors. You look like you were beaten to a pulp, but you’re not bleeding, no gashes, cuts, anything? No stitches?!”

  Dante shrugged, brushing off her question. “Just a traveler with places to be.”

  Tana wasn’t satisfied with that answer. “I’d like to study you further if you’ll allow it. There’s something truly unique about your physiology.”

  “I appreciate the concern, Doctor, but is there anything you can do for my wings?” Dante said hopefully.

  Tana lifted a limp wing and dropped it. “Um. I don’t know. I only know Chimeran medicine for Furthians. Not for whatever you are.”

  “I have a rather silly question… but… what is a Chimeran?” Dante said sheepishly.

  “What? You don’t know what a Chimeran is!?” Tana’s mouth dropped. “Why… we’re all Chimerans!”