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Harman could be sure of it now; there was no mistaking it. Though he was thousands of kilometers further than he predicted; though his staff had been rendered useless by supernal exertions of unskilled power; though he may very well be trapped in this forsaken village until his end, one thing was certain above all else:

Amberwort was, in fact, the finest of drink.

Ah, sooth, it is distilled paradise; a perfect creation!

Oh, but there was much work to be done.

'Far too much.'

Harman invited Dart into his hovel, if only to keep an eye on him.

'Wouldn't want him doing anything regretful.'

_ _

But while Dart was no conversationalist,

truly this drink would keep him company.

'But there is much in way of preparation,' he lamented internally. Much to do indeed, but he could do nothing until James returned.

Too long he had privately planned to save the world. Truly, only the pedigree of a Lapin could secure the world's safety.

Too well he had hidden his intentions from his clan.

Too cunning he had been in the precious staff's theft. He doubted even now they had an inkling he was responsible for the missing heirloom.

But he had also been too careful - slow in execution. He strived to maintain as much of his detailed plan as possible when the time came to put thoughts into action.

'Never too careful! Perfection takes time!'

He offered Dart his own drink, but the sullen refusal he received only blessed him with more Amberwort. He was not callous to his friend's plight; oh indeed, indeed, he felt a deep concern for him.

But no use could come of mere concerns.

'What good am I for comfort? I cannot plan his sorrows away!'

As he emptied his first cup, his thoughts returned to his initial musings surrounding James. He was certain the god would not take long, but he so desperately craved to share his genius.

But he would have to wait.

The godswere not as he expected - were not accurate to historical accounts passed through generations of his people. Still, James was remarkable. Every fiber of his being had become dedicated to growing the god's power.

'But there must be submission!'

_ _

As religion compelled faith; as a geas commands action, his compulsion to nurture growth had overtaken his better judgment since James first refused him.

'But the boy is ignorant and foolish.'

He stamped at the ground nervously, an obsessive tick.

'He needs guidance only I may provide.'

Harman poured himself another flagon of Amberwort.

The doorway curtain rustled; a young healer entered silently. As she settled beside Dart, her deft paws immediately began to work at removing the bandage covering his chest and shoulder. When the last few straps loosened Dart reflexively winced in pain.

Haman immediately slammed his half-consumed drink on an empty stool, launching spires of brew in odd directions. " Hellfire! Have you no delicacy, or is your desire to multiply his hurts?"

The young Skurren flinched at the harsh criticism, but nodded in compliance with a silent huff.

Reclaiming his mug, Harmanfinished the remaining contents in a few large gulps.

Dart leaned and whispered something into the girl's ear; no doubt an apology on his behalf.

'Bah! What good are apologies beyond admitting guilt?

They provide naught to solve the problem!'

Nevertheless he sighed and held his tongue from further abuse; mustn't overextend his welcome. He need only make sure his friend received the best of care.

Ah, but time continues and he had yet to receive his audience with the god. The land was indeed too beautiful to be readily forsaken. Soon they would require haste.

'But the boy is ignorant!'

In sooth, his learning was necessary. Harman had not anticipated the gods would have no knowledge of the world. The heritage of their ancient texts was wrong - or it was incomplete.

'But he is foolish!'

---

'No,'_he recanted, _'he lacks experience!'

Troublesome as it was, they would have to further alter their course so he may be properly instructed. Surely a godcould be made to understand!

But Harman'sinternal dialogue was interrupted again by stifled groans of pain. Gently setting his flagon on the table this time, properly arranging the handle so it was optimally available for his grasp, he cast his ire once more to the young mouse; but he said nothing. In truth, he needed her there - though his pride or internal conflict would never admit it. Healing was not his order - not his purpose! Were the gem of his staff were intact, he yet lacked the calm precision of a surgeon. He could do little more than scald away infection, cauterize wounds, disfigure cruel rot. He could not mend.

But her interruption was brief, urging Harman'sreturn to the disquiet of his mind. When she left, he huffed to himself as though she had need of scorn.

"Despicable kind, this lot," he muttered, unaware he said anything at all.

His thoughts quickly escaped him as he reached for one of the remaining chunks of cheese leftover from his breakfast.

While he chewed its pungency he caught Dartcasting him a forlorn glare, as though he might have something to say.

"My manners," Harmanchoked through a swallow. "Care you for any?" He gestured obliquely at the half-consumed plate.

Dart could only sigh and shake his head. He laid across the bed to rest.

But no sooner than Harmanhad shrugged to himself, a blast rang through the village and out through the forest. He was startled from his stool.

"Damnation," he rasped while climbing to his feet. After taking a moment to brush himself off, he snatched up his staff.

"Step to it, Dart! We may need to make ourselves scarce."

But he did not see whether Dart had heeded him; Harman was already a dozen paces out the doorway. He did not have to search for the sound's origin.

'But he is foolish!'

"Foolish indeed" Harmannearly stammered.

At a far edge of the clearing stood a grand cedar that carried a large, simple, wooden structure in its branches. It had been undecorated and unremarkable; or at least it would have been were it not on fire.

There's a Skurren floating over it.

Also on fire.

A-a silver fire!

'Truly beautiful.'

"Hellfire! Hellfire and damnation!"

'The boy has outdone himself this time.'

"He must learn restraint!"

He hadn't noticed Dartapproach in awe of the spectacle,

'The gods defy restraint!'

"In sooth, he is reckless, but..."

nor had he noticed the frantic villagers.

'Contain him before he is your undoing!'

"We are already undone!"

He was unaware of even his automatic stomping.

'He must be made useful!'

"We cannot succeed!"

But nonetheless his focus lit up with pain.

Standing in silence, he refocused on the excitement as workers rushed to quench the inferno. The Skurren figure, bathed in argence and private sunlight, descended towards them with open arms; as if he regarded them as friends.

Only the top half of the building was on fire, but it yet threatened to lick from existence the remainder of the building and other nearby trees. The suspended figure revealed more of its details as it grew near.

Scraggly headfur thrashed violently in the typhoon of power, as pure white as the fur that bathed his bare body. But while the fire encompassing him strove to match the purity of his fur, cerulean eyes pierced the silver gyre as if to command attention.

His arms were mottled with blackness, as a child splashing in paint. It polluted the pristine pearl permeating his person as though it promised plague or pestilence.

The figure set himself on the ground in front of Harman and Dart briefly before collapsing to his knees, taking the blaze with his consciousness. Several onlookers approached the area slowly, but Austrus commanded space from them. Running toward the fallen Skurren, she instructed the two to bring him into James' hut immediately.

Harman barked a reply and took up the arm nearest him; Dart in kind took the other arm. Together, they did their best to gently drag him into the small home.

The heiress frowned as they toted him off before returning her attention to the lab. "A minor setback," she mumbled to herself as the villagers quickly worked on smothering the thoughtless flames.

~~~~~~~~~~

When James awoke, he had expected to find himself in a hospital or even his own bed - but his disappointment clarified with his vision as the humble hovel made itself known to his senses. He stretched under his blanket and began to rise, but something felt wrong. He sensed several sets of eyes staring a hole through him.

He cast a glance across the room; it was practically filled with others. Dart and Harman, Austrus and Hargrove - even Mileena was standing near the entryway - along with a handful of villagers who had filed into the far corner as if to witness some miracle.

And then James recalled his last memory had left him without clothes. Bunching the blanket around himself, he cleared his throat to address the group with as much godly dignity as he could muster. "Holy shit! Could I get a little privacy?"

The villagers immediately rushed out of the room, sweeping Mileena along with them. Austrus snorted in amusement but said nothing as she dragged her mate behind her. Only Dart and Harman remained, who continued to stare in awe of what he had become. "What are you guys staring at?"

It was only then he had become aware that the events that morning had not merely been dreams. He immediately took to scan over himself and the new changes that defined his form. He ran unfamiliar paws over the fine, pristine fur of his chest; studied the blackness that mottled his forearms and hands, a private plague that had stained him; ran sensitive new fingers through what had been his hair. Gently, he tested the new shape of his ears; reflexively they twitched and swiveled, using muscles he had never imagined would exist. Shifting uncomfortably in the bed, he relieved the pain of sitting on his own tail - A TAIL!

Much else about him had changed as well, but he was not about to explore those changes in company.

"James?" Harman probed, unsure of himself.

James immediately focused his attention on the Lapin.

"I guess," he replied, disappointed and astonished; he was unsure himself. His ordeal had practically drained the life from him, but a new strength was also trickling throughout his veins. "Does anyone have a mirror or something? I want to see myself."

Dart nodded mutely while he unlatched the dagger from his waist and held it out in offering. James mumbled a thanks and immediately used its reflective blade to greet his new face. "This is gonna take some getting used to," he mused as he evaluated the firmness of his newborn flesh, tested the sharpness of his new teeth.

"The transformation is immaculate," Harman confessed, but he still kept his distance. "Though I may have chosen another form, given the option."

James stared at him in a mixture of anger and confusion, but Dart sought to break the tension. Without a word, he struck Harman across the top of his head; Harman yelped and said nothing further.

Smirking, James nodded a thanks; but his thoughts had already begun drifting to other tasks. He remembered Hargrove had offered him a chance to learn more about the world, but he no longer had clothes. The robe hanging by the door would have to suffice. He resheathed the dagger and handed it back to Dart.

"Looks like my clothes weren't found," he guessed in mild irritation. "Could you please toss me that robe?" Dart nodded and obliged while Harman rubbed at his head thoughtfully. "I've got a few things I'd like to discuss with the chieftain, including what they want in return for all the trouble I've caused."

Harman frowned and shifted nervously while James donned the satin garb. After another moment passed, he offered a short reply, "Do tread lightly; we are yet guests among them."

He sighed and nodded knowingly, "That's true, but he did promise me a chance to learn more about the world. I won't be able to help anyone if I can't do anything useful."

_'Or defend myself from lunatics.' _ Carefully he donned the robe while seated; shivers ran through his spine at the sensation of fur flowing along the slick fabric.

As he stood to tie the robe's belt around his waist, he wandered toward the doorway; there he paused briefly. "I might be a while, so I guess you guys can go back to doing whatever it was you were doing before I blew up the lab. Sorry I'm ditching you guys again, but I'm going to be completely useless until I can figure out what I can even do in this world."

Dart gave his consent, but Harman continued to squirm and fidget. It was obvious he had something to say, but the Lapin instead elected silence. With a shrug James walked through the curtain, contemplating how he would locate Hargrove; but he did not have to search.

His previous audience had been waiting patiently outside, silently multiplying as if the entire village were eager to see what he had become; two-, maybe three-score Skurren had formed embolisms in alleyways and plaques in streets to get a good look at the new face among them. When he realized the depths of his new fame, James waved awkwardly - it was enough cause for celebration as the mass cheered and danced in place.

Sighing in annoyance, he marched over to where he saw Austrus and Hargrove. Through the noise, he tried to yell at the stout mouse, "Is all of this really necessary?"

Hargrove could only laugh deeply. "They have never witnessed a god among them before, nor such a flawless transformation! But I sense it is too much for you to bear." Placing an arm around James he continued, "Come, we shall discuss matters of knowledge." He patted James' shoulder and gently guided him through the crowd.

James was no stranger to applause; every other Saturday he would sing and play guitar at a local bar, but it was never so intense - or so unearned. He disliked fame and the attention it brought; he only tolerated recognition for his efforts. Playing for a small crowd was never about entertainment, it was his personal therapy. He wondered briefly if he may ever have that chance again.

As Hargrove lead him on Austrus waved the crowd away, dispersing more and more with each motion. After a dozen or so steps, the crowd had reduced to a gentle murmur. It was then James noticed the charred remains of the structure that had attempted to contain his ruinous flames. The uppermost level had been unmade; char and ash had crept into the floor below, but it was still intact. He sighed in embarrassment, but was nonetheless concerned. "What happened to Vyson? Is everyone alright?"

Both Skurren nodded a yes to his relief, but offered no further explanation. "I'm sorry about all of the damage I caused there," he confessed, pointing at the newly-blackened structure. "I had no idea that was going to happen. I want to try to make it right, when I can."

Hargrove waved at him with a vague shoo-ing motion. "It is a little thing; no doubt you noticed the slapdash construction." He leaned in closer to whisper, "You're not the first one to start a fire up there." He winked knowingly at James. Though he chuckled at his own remark, he gave no further comment.

James trudged along; he could only assume they were willing to accept some loss if it ensured his compliance.

A few minutes of walking brought them to the base of yet another enormous tree. It was perhaps the largest tree James had ever seen; it could easily have been mistaken for a redwood or a great sequoia if not for the needled boughs at its head. Its branches stretched out like an umbrella, a stark contrast to the others around it, but he could not identify it. Also unlike other structured trees there was no cordage winding along its trunk. Free of modification, James wondered how they would reach the top. He puzzled a moment longer before he meant to inquire, but Hargrove began talking before he could ask.

"Atop this tree stands what any proud Skurren colony treasures most: Knowledge. Though we do not often travel beyond the reaches of our settlement, trade brings with it new books and scrolls to ever increase our understanding." He walked over to the tree and patted its trunk. "Only the eldest of trees to bear the greatness of our aspirations. There exists a more simple entry, but first a demonstration; no doubt there are yet aspects of your transformation still hidden to you."

James stared in confusion as Hargrove set his open palms on the bark of the ancient sprout. Immediately he curled his fingers into a rough claw shape, gripping the tips of his fingers into the wall of wood. Alternating paws, he scaled a few meters along the trunk before carefully backtracking himself to the ground. With a motion, he invited James to do the same.

"Oh, I don't know about that," James admitted, "I've never been good at climbing trees. Even the climb to the lab was almost too much." But Hargrove held his invitation like a statue. Even Austrus nodded a subtle approval.

James sighed and approached the prodigious tree. Mimicking Hargrove's motions, he attempted to grip the bark with foreign paws; but when he tried to pull himself further along the length, his grip failed immediately.

"Damn."

Hargrove chuckled to himself, "Do not be disheartened, it is yet a skill that must be developed. It is not simply a movement of the paw; you must extend your clears." He gestured for James to give him a paw. Reluctantly, one was offered for his demonstration. "I trust it is a new experience to have such a thing, as unfamiliar as a new tail."

Manipulating James' paw in his hand, he turned the palm down and stretched out his fingers. With an uncomfortable motion, he pried a finger back gently, using his other paw to curl the tip of the finger forward.

Through the discomfort, James felt new pressures and movement; as perplexing as the magic that had transformed him, new muscles and tendons made themselves aware in his arms and hands - there was no chance he would have discovered them on his own. As the pressure built along his finger a fine, clear blade protruded from the fleshy end. It was nearly imperceptible.

"This is a clear," Hargrove explained. "It is what gives us Skurren the ability to scale such heights with ease." James was completely enthralled with the demonstration; he had occasionally wondered how such a feat was achieved with other clawed animals. But the instant Hargrove released his paw, the clear automatically retreated. Flexing his fingers James attempted to reproduce the extension, but he was unsuccessful.

"It is a learned muscle, it will take practice," Hargrove continued. "As with all things, you must train it to use it effectively."

James nodded silently, though secretly he was excited at the prospect of such an ability. To him it was akin to a super power, like his mildly-prehensile tail.

But while he and Hargrove reveled in the demonstration, Austrus grew impatient. Stepping between them, she attempted to guide them back to the primary goal. "Indeed, much practice will be necessary," she stated flatly. " But for the time, it would be best to attend your studies, yes?"

"Oh yes, indeed!" Hargrove chuckled, "Pardon my diversion!" He began to walk around the base of the tree with restrained excitement. James and Austrus followed close behind.

When they had rounded a quarter of the growth's bulk, a doorway made itself known in the wood. It was not exceptionally large; James could easily reach all sides without stretching. But instead of opening into a large void like he had expected, it scaled along the outer edge wrapping a staircase around the vital core of the great tree. A familiar, warm glow filled the air alongside the saccharine scent of living wood.

Hundreds, perhaps thousands of steps carried them up along the length of the trunk, each meticulously crafted from the tree's flesh. Ornate decorations and hand-carved pictures blessed each wooden face, depicting scenes of great battle or some promising ritual; with each step, curiosity grew within James until he could no longer contain himself. "Each of the steps is decorated differently; what do they mean?"

Austrus posed to answer him this time, but did not stop walking. "Each scene is a milestone in our heritage; from the first step that records the construction of the Great Hall we approach, to the birth of Mileena at most recent. Each step signifies some great accomplishment or failure in the past few millennia so that any willing soul may reflect on their ancestry while on the path to further their knowledge."

The idea of a living heritage thrilled James; with new insights in mind, he considered each step more carefully before he trod upon them. Though 'blood rite' stood apart from her response, he remained vigilant for evidence of sacrifice.

"No doubt the deeds you perform shall be writ in wonder across these very steps. Long they have ached for new lore but been so callously denied." Austrus continued close behind Hargrove while she completed her thought.

James snorted to himself quietly. 'I'll give you something to write about.' But his considerations were cut short; he stopped to gawk the sudden ruin before him, halting Hargrove and Austrus with him. The three steps in front of him were completely scorched on their faces, scarred and blackened as though claws and fire sought to shred their history of meaning. The step immediately below the carnage depicted scrawled carvings of what appeared to be smaller Skurren opposing other large, twisted beings. The hasty crafting corrupted and warped the strange figures. "What happened here?" James asked in mild shock.

With a deep sigh, Austrus stepped down next to him. "Here is told a dark time in our history. Perhaps a handful of centuries ago, our ancestors were threatened by a wicked clan of aggressive Canis; fiercely wild creatures with crooked, wolven jaws and fulvous eyes. In some great madness or foul compulsion, they sought to eradicate our kind."

Deep in recollection, she lowered her gaze. "Many clans once graced this forest and took up arms alongside us, but our losses were becoming too great. In our most desperate of times, the elder turned to dark magicks which wrought terrible destruction. Although our numbers were greatly diminished, still we were preserved."

She set her focus now on James, drawing him further into their somber history. "Fearing further use of such devastating power, the elder following his generation had the steps scored and burned. Now bereft of name and knowledge, we can fathom neither their great power nor their great cost."

A small sadness crept over James; sure, some of their practices were cruel, but they had also known loss. He could not fathom the depths of sacrifice that had been given. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to dig up such terrible things."

With a tsk and a vague wave, Austrus brushed it off. "No offense has been given; it is no memory of mine. It is only history. I have no doubt your world too has borne its own strife. Conflict is as much a part of existence as peace."

James nodded silently and studied over the designs once again, but Austrus was ready to move on. After a gentle goading, he was pulled away. Before long, his attention was no longer divided; the faces of the steps had gone blank. Idly, he wondered what they would do when they ran out of steps to record their history.

Soon to follow was an end to steps altogether as they reached the top of the staircase. James had been in good health before, but he was sure he should have been breathing more heavily after climbing several hundred stairs - clearly his transformation aided his stamina.

But curiosity and admiration quickly took over him as the Great Hall revealed itself. From the ground, its size was obscured by branches and diminished by distance, but the doors towered over him like a monument. The edges of the building expanded beyond the carry of just the great tree; others nearby lent branches in aid as though they bore its burden willingly.

Like the lab it appeared to stretch upwards of three floors, further evidenced by the spattering of glassless windows along its walls. But unlike the bland, haphazard construction of the workshop, hand-crafted molding arched around the vast doors, ornately carved with flowers and vines. Various, decorative animal heads were littered throughout the wood, interspersed with other delicate shapes and patterns. Lines of polished Bijou were embedded in all manner of woodwork, providing an elegant finish to the carvings. Though it was ancient, its craftsmanship was unrivalled.

But neither the chieftain nor his mate stopped to contemplate the impressive construct, offering instead a brief welcome as they approached. Grasping at a large handle Hargrove swung the giant door open as though it weighed nothing, revealing the busywork of perhaps a score of mice. Hurriedly, they stooped to arrange furnishings along several lengthy banquet tables, other sweeping or cleaning as required of them. Still more could be seen or heard scattering about the far end of the room, darting in and out from behind dividing walls as they produced a symphony of sounds and smells fit for a royal feast. Heavy, crystalline chandeliers swayed faintly above the hushed exertions of preparation, casting soft, dancing lights in homage to the hall's majesty. James could count placements and seating for several hundred, as though their numbers were far greater than they had previously made known.

A sudden clamor rang out from the distant kitchen; the sounds of pots and pans and other implements tumbling across the wooden floor harshly lead a discordant series of shouts and assumed curses that fled from a staccato tongue he did not recognize. Once the initial fit of yells subsided Mileena burst through a far door in a flurry, wearing her frustrations like a hurricane of malevolence. Spotting James and his chaperones at the end of the walkway, she directed her wrath like a stampede.

"It is wasteful and foolish to have such a feast when the first winterfall is within a moon's time!" Her anger infused a redness under her otherwise pristine fur. "Already provisions wane from poor trades," she barked, "we shall be scarcely able to provide for our people if we cannot adhere to simple rationing! Such lavish displays are careless!"

Though Hargrove appeared to have been shaken from his calm demeanor, Austrus wore her regal poise expertly. Without raising her voice, she addressed her daughter. "It is a little thing. Have you so quickly forgotten even the most simple of manners due our treasured guests?"

Mileena stood, mouth agape, at the casual dismissal of her claims. Looking over her present company her ears flatted themselves in mild embarrassment, but she did not relent. "You would then have us starve later so we may now squander what little resources we have secured?" She crossed her arms haphazardly and fumed at the apparently lack of concern.

Annoyance creased through her mother's mien and into her voice, "Traders from the Queen City will be upon us within the moon, and I shall arrange with them their return ere the Spring breaks. Do not concern yourself with my designed, lest you would deign to challenge my authority."

Shock and frustration ruled Mileena, but she could produce no further argument. With a wave she silently urged James for his input, her face pleading for a sympathetic voice.

Unsure of his boundaries, James shrugged and held his hands up awkwardly. "I mean, I don't really need all of this; I'm just happy to help out," he offered cautiously. "You've already done too much; I couldn't hope to repay you." What more could he do? He did not yet understand their customs or plights and he did not wish to anger his hosts before he might make his escape. Quelling further objections, he offered no further resistance.

Austrus' features softened as she addressed him, choosing to instead appeal to her guest. "Think nothing of it. It brings us all great pride to host such an esteemed individual. Appropriate arrangements will be made; have no worry of any perceived shortcomings. Though my daughter is bold in her protection of our people, she lacks the gift of experience in managing such affairs." A hint of scorn grew in her voice as she subtly addressed Mileena.

In an exasperated wail, Mileena threw her paws in the air and stomped away from the company. In a brief moment she disappeared up a stairway to their immediate right; James had not noticed it beforehand.

Austrus let her shoulders droop slightly. Again she addressed James, "Though she is the love of my heart, she is quick to upset over small inconveniences. She is strong and clever - any can attest to that - but one day she will lead in my stead. There is much yet unknown to her in leadership."

Hargrove nodded in affirmation, having regained his composure. "It is sooth, though I do not doubt her capabilities." Facing James directly, he continued, "Where she has fled leads to the library we sought to delivery you. Though our collection is a pittance, it is there you will perhaps find the knowledge you crave. Do not fear Mileena's ire; it is obvious she has found fondness in you. I have no doubt your company would soothe her."

Internally James groaned; he did not want to get wrapped up in politics. But the library might provide important clues he needed, and Mileena would help him escape. Doing his best to mimic their shallow bow, he excused himself to follow after her. The staircase rose quickly in tall, narrow steps, only dimly lit by a few distant Bijou. It's end opened into a more brightly-lit room where morning sunbeams complimented the soft chuckling of magical light.

Though the library did not appear to be well maintained at first glance, it was only because many books on the entry shelf were worn beyond obvious use. The room was as wide as the Great Hall below, but it did not appear to share its depth. Several handcrafted shelves held smatterings of old, poorly-bound books; others hosted loosely rolled scrolls and loose-leaf documents. They may have had some order or system, but James could not determine any pattern to their arrangements. Instead he sought to relish in the appreciative scents of musty paper and expressive tannins permeating the loft.

Initially he could not find Mileena - he barely tried. He was fascinated by the countless books surrounding him, each written in an unfamiliar language. Flipping through pages, he could make no sense of the seemingly random scrawlings; to his eyes they appeared to be nothing more than the lost scribbles of a madman. Still, ordered lines and occasional illustrations gave hints to their contents. One could have been a cookbook; another might train farming techniques.

The curious pages captured his attention, so much so that he had not noticed Mileena's approach until she punched his shoulder in irritation. Reflexively, he dropped the book he had been studying.

"You could have declined entirely! You could have told them such waste would be dishonorable!" Mileena was angry, but subtle breaks in her voice betrayed her defeat.

James could only stare for a moment. Indeed, he could have been more forceful in declining, but he was uncertain whether such a refusal would bring him suspicion. "I'm sorry. But you did tell me to play along and lay low until tonight," James countered, "If I had been adamant in cancelling everything, what would they have done?"

She studied him for a moment before releasing a defeated groan; he was right. Seeking to direct her frustrations to more productive tasks, she leaned over and reached out to collect the fallen book. Carefully, she picked through the pages, inspecting them for signs of damage. "I didn't know you had such an interest in floral growth patterns."

James was startled by the sudden change in temperament, but he did his best to reply. "Oh, uh, I can't read it. I have literally no idea what that book is about. I was just flipping through pages and looking at pictures, hoping I'd stumble across something written in English."

Mileena tilted her head slightly, "English? This is no language I am familiar with." She continued to leaf through the pages, paying no attention to their contents.

"Not familiar with - we're speaking English right now!" James barked in confusion. "Like, everything I'm saying right now is in English! Since everyone spoke it around here, I was sure you'd at least write some of your books in it too."

She seemed to ponder the greater implications of his accusation, but quickly arrived at an answer. "The common tongue is shared among all races as a means to communicate between natural barriers, but it is seldom written. Exceptions lie within large cities where many races share space, and also with traders who have no upbringing among the seven noble tongues.

Opening the book in her paws to a random page, she pointed along a line of scribbles. "Our records are kept - or are otherwise translated - in the Skurren tongue. Though it lacks the precision of common speech, it is more brief."

James studied the page for a moment longer, but he could still make no sense of the scrawlings. Abruptly, Mileena closed the book in his face and returned it to its home on the nearest shelf. "All young are taught to speak commonly alongside their mother tongue, though few outside of traders or the elite are taught to write it. I myself only know the basics - there are simply too many words that carry no meaning."

He nodded swiftly, ready with another issue that had been bothering him. "So then what language are the ancient texts written in?"

A subtle smile wormed across her lips. "Now that is a worthy question." She beckoned James along as she walked behind a bookshelf, guiding him deeper into the stores of information. In just a moment they had approached a large table surrounded by several chairs; perhaps a dozen books and scrolls were strewn across the table, complimented by numerous loose-leaf pages scattered between openings in the mess. A quill and ink well sat at the very end between a short pile of dilapidated pages and a larger stack of crisp, blank sheets.

"Many accounts share a common reference that the ancient texts were written in a language similar to our common tongue; but it is said they were poorly worded or could not be properly understood. Through the millennia many translations have been fashioned, starting all manner of mythology and faith - but they are merely translations. I am aware of no original scripts in our time, though perhaps some reproduction exists in the world. Sadly, I know naught of where they may be found, and I am loathe to accept mere translation as truth."

James wandered around the table, glancing at the various open books and scrolls. All were covered in the same chaotic scribbles, all in varying states of decay and disuse. It was clear she had been working on whatever project this was for quite some time.

"My greatest desire is to find fault in my people's beliefs through other ancient texts," she continued as she sat in the chair ending the table, "and not purely from second-hand accounts. These barbaric practices must end; as long as I hold power, I will not allow the useless shedding of blood on some twisted account of life forces and purity."

Gradually she rested her chin in her paws while continuing her explanation. "But I have yet to find any historical account that faults their beliefs; even the library of the Queen City has no useful writings - not that the half-brained traders gracing us would know a useful text if they saw one."

"It is also my belief that the ancient writings contain contradictions of importance; that they may be their own undoing. Many clans have given many differing accounts of their contents, leading my theories to some incorrect translation or some lesson that had been misinterpreted. How else could so many faiths be borne of a single, grand teaching?"

Circling around, James picked up one of the loose pages from the table. "So that's what you've been working on here?"

Mileena smirked knowingly, "No, these are my studies. It is my task to copy worn and decaying texts before they are too greatly damaged so they may be preserved." She stood and casually plucked the page from his hand, setting it back on the table where it had been found. "Such things as I aspire are considered traitorous; should anyone discover my intent, I should likely be disowned and banished entirely. Though I am my mother's daughter, I am not above scrutiny."

James cringed at the thought; even in this world someone could be ostracized for doing the right thing if it goes against the grain. But her confession carried with it other implications. Carefully he approached the subject, "So why are you telling me? You don't know anything about me; for all you know, I could walk down these steps right now and tell your father what you just told me - and he'd probably believe me without any proof."

She shook her head and smiled softly. "I trust you. Though we have only barely met, I can tell your soul is a kind one." She rested her paws on his shoulders and leaned in slowly, gently pressing her lips against the fur of his forehead. "The world needs more kind souls; you are apt to do much good."

But before James could respond a flurry of rushed steps pounded from the stairwell, inevitably spilling forth a small, clumsy mouse as though it hurled him. With an unskilled tumble, his burdens spilled across the floor. While the young Skurren tended his knee, James approached to help in mild concern - until he noticed what the interloper bore.

"My clothes!" he exclaimed in relief. 'Or what's left of them.' As he began to collect his clothes from the floor, the young mouse shrieked in terror and sprang from the floor in a mad flurry to prevent James from picking up anything else. Shivering nervously, he proffered the loose pile to James.

"My apologies, Master!" His voice was shrill and cracked with fear. "I have gathered all that I could find as quickly as possible and I tried to deliver them to your room but you weren't there and then I had to find you and you were all the way up here so I ran as fast as I could but I'm so clumsy and I dropped everything and made you have to pick it up -" The boy's ranting continued, but it had quickly devolved into a series of mad clicks and chirps as panic tore his voice away.

In an attempt to calm him, James laid his paws on the boy's shoulders and squeezed firmly. Silence came immediately as the young Skurren stared through him. "Okay there, little guy; before you get too excited, let's go over a few things. First, call me James, not 'Master'. Second, I'm just another one of you guys now, see?" He held up his paws in an attempt to relate, but the black stains had escaped only his memory. "Er, nevermind that one. What I mean to say is thank you for bringing me my clothes; that was very helpful."

He ruffled the boy's headfur briefly before standing again, leaving him to process all that had happened. A smile quickly grew on the boy's face, transforming his fear into distinct pride in a job well accomplished. But he quickly reined himself in and offered a gentle bow. "You're welcome, Ma -" He swallowed nervously, "I mean, you're welcome, James!"

Before James could think to dismiss him, the young mouse spun on his heels and hopped giddily to the stairs. Chuckling to himself, he started to search through the scorched mess for anything that might have survived the blast. "Well, it looks like my shirt is badly damaged," he mused while poking fingers through small blackened holes in the fabric, "and I'm guessing the boxers I left on top are completely done-for, but everything else looks like it survived somehow." Fingering through the pockets of his shorts, he found the blue marble still at rest within.

But when he looked up Mileena was leaning on the edge of the table, a knowing smirk plastered across her face. James set his clothes on the table next to her and shrugged in confusion, "What? What's that look for?"

Mileena snorted in amusement as he started to arrange his clothes on the table. "Have I yet judged you wrongly?"

He stuck out his tongue playfully as he sat down, eager to once again wear actual clothes; but he sat down too quickly. Unaware of his new tail, a yelp of pain escaped him as it kinked itself under his careless weight. In surprise, he sprang from the chair, slamming his knee under the edge of the table. "Fuck!" He immediately fell back into the chair, raising a giggle from Mileena, but she said nothing else.

After a brief moment of private swearing, he decided instead to don his clothes while standing up. Carefully, he slid on his shorts, taking care to manipulate them under the robe; they still fit him, but the waist was larger on him than he remembered. His new form must be a little smaller than he thought - he had not noticed earlier.

But the most significant change had been below. With a groan, he realized his old shoes and socks would not fit the new shape of his feet; he would have to remain barefoot a while longer. With a sigh of regret, he decided he should at least wear the tattered shirt - it was better than nothing. After removing his robe and laying it over the back of the chair, he squirmed his limbs into the necessary holes; it too hung loosely from him, further implying his new form's changes. Small patches of white fur poked out from the few holes in the shirt, but none were significant. 'Good enough.'

When he was satisfied with the fit of his old clothes, a realization swept over him. "Wait a minute, how did you know it was me? I never introduced myself downstairs or after I came up here."

In response to his outburst, she could only laugh. "How is it your identity would not be known to me? Firstly, you're the only one around here with black paws." Between breaths she continued, "What more, your attire was improper, poor posture dominates you, my parents were shepherding you around town, and your face is utterly unknown to me. Need I continue?"

James was shocked, but she was indeed correct. Mutely he blushed; though his form now matched the present company, he was yet ignorant to their culture and lacked other defining characteristics. His clothes at least now made his identity plain. "Am I that obvious?" he offered with a grin. In reply, she only giggled further.

Scooting back into his seat, James cleared his throat. "So I guess I can't learn anything up here if I can't read. Is there any chance I could convince you to help me out for a little while? I don't know anything about the world or Bijou or what's happening."

With a soft smile, she beckoned him from his chair to follow her further into the library. "Very well, we shall start at the beginning. There is much to share, but I will do my best to remain brief." From the most simple of beginnings, she began to teach him of the land.