Kinverse: Volume One

PATH OF THE EMERALD MAIDEN

A naive young monster's tale by Moros, aka KinverseWriter

Legal Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise herein mentioned. No copyright infringement is intended. All characters and events in this story are entirely fictional. Any similarity to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events, is purely coincidental. This work of fiction contains disturbing content.

Reader discretion is advised.

Description:

A young woman from a pre-neolithic society is accidentally whisked away to another world entirely during a raid on a research lab run by alien invaders. Stranded with no friends, badly injured, and no idea where home even is, she's forced to live off the land and learn how to survive in this strange and hostile world.

There's only one slight problem, though.

She's not trapped in this world with them. They're trapped in this world with her.

Categories:

Adventure, Coming-of-Age, Isekai, Erotica.

Disclaimers:

This story contains sexual elements and disturbing themes. The contents aren't purely intended to be pornographic, but some scenes objectively are. This is about a giant monster that eats people, so reader discretion is advised. This story contains vorarephilic themes.

This story will have a very slow and intermittent pace to begin with. True stakes don't really show up until halfway through, though the build-up is always there in the background. This is ultimately not a story of grand adventure and defeating one's enemies to rise to the top, it is the tale of a lost and naive young woman growing as a person and learning new things. It is a personal one concerning her, and thus this story will be told in present-tense first-person.

Chapter 11: You Can Run

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A/N:

With that brief pause out of the way... so begins a return to the action.

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It's time to track the other one down.

In her panic fleeing through the dark, my prey had actually foolishly left the road behind. I'm not really sure how you could miss it--even with poor night vision like they probably have--so she must have really been spooked. Good old prey instincts: it doesn't matter where you go, just get away. Cornered prey make for the most dangerous of fighters due to this, but also ones which aren't always the most thoughtful.

Not only that, we're absolutely heading further away from where her kind is likely to be. In the darkness of the no-moon, she must not have realized she was heading for the mountains, and by the time she did, she was already there. Her trail is quite meandering, turning around and doubling back on itself multiple times. So far I've found the occasional bit of torn covering on branches, some blood from nicks and stepping on rocks, and a lot of trampled undergrowth.

Not stealthy at all. These creatures aren't made for the wilds. Even in the darkness of the no-moon I would be able to see enough to navigate, though slowly. She could not, and prioritized speed anyway. However, what offends me the most on an instinctual level is the lack of situational awareness. Had she stuck to the road then depending on how far it is to her people she might have even gotten to live.

I doubt it though. She has barely any coverings, no food, no tools, and not even her dead mate's fertilization to remember him by. Tall intruders are not creatures of the wilds at all.

Stumbling across an empty cave, I find that she did have the sense to seek shelter for the night. There are clear signs of her passage, though she obviously left in the morning. However, she definitely lost her way what with the path once again meandering around the hill, though a bit straighter with the sun. By now we are truly in the hills and mountains, so there is no lake to navigate towards.

Stepping out, I raise my head and scent the air.

Sniff sniff.

The winds still carry various smells to me, many foreign, some familiar. I smell no more of Shaggy and Laggy's kind but there are a few elk somewhere along with the usual assortment of smaller creatures belonging to this relatively peaceful land. Noting one particularly strong scent I glance to the ground and make an observation I had previously missed: five sets of tracks, with two being a bit bigger, all indicating animals with claws. Likely predators I would guess.

The tracks themselves are perhaps half a day old, and I am two behind the female now, having gained a significant amount of ground on her. However, the tracks align with hers, like they have grown curious at her passage. This further points towards fellow predators. Ones who want to steal my prey, weak as it is.

Not if I can help it. I pick up the pace.

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Slowly I gained on them, almost unhindered now by my missing foot. My gait is still unsteady but the pace of the pack has been unhurried, more curious than hungry. Their scent gradually grew stronger until I was almost upon them and could hear their panting in the hot air. Before continuing on I remove the bag from my neck and stash it looped over a low-hanging branch.

My first sight of my prey is through the trees, one turning to look in my direction having smelled my own approach. With a bark, the others are alerted that they should pay attention too rather than play-fight. Discovered anyway due to my disregard for stealth and need to get a better look I advance through the trees.

All of them are covered in dark hair, with four legs ending in clawed paws, two triangular ears, snouts with prominent noses, a pair of eyes, and furry tails. They're about half the height of the elk, significantly smaller than the bears, and a quite good bit below me in stature. Two of them are slightly larger than the other three, all smelling roughly similar; a family unit. The tracks did not lie and five with ten eyes return my stare, breaking the silence only with copious sniffing of their own.

Pack hunters. Biting and clawing attacks. No true natural armor like I or the bears. This should prove to be an easy fight.

But alas... overconfidence. Yet here I am unburdened and in my prime.

Breaking the staring contest I lunge at the one in front that had cared to notice me first, it being one of the slightly larger of its group. It growls and darts back to fight defensively with its pack, but I continue forward and pounce on it, ignoring the others that move in to my sides. Claws out I rake its face as my scythes fall on the back of its neck, causing it to immediately crumple as it paralyzes instantly. A good hit.

While it goes down it tries to exhale and howl, but in the end only gets out a pained gurgle. Its kin surround me, now extremely wary from my bold charge--they outnumber me but I have many advantages they lack--even the terrain is in my favor. Amongst the close-packed trees as our fight is they can only approach from certain angles.

Maddened by anger the other larger one charges at me from behind for revenge, but I angle my head back to see their blurred shape and swipe my tail at it, forcing them away!

The others--perhaps children of a mated pair--aren't idle and take the opportunity to pounce all at once attempting to bury me under their weight and numbers. Claws sink into carapace but it isn't enough without dedicated attacks and I roll with the final one's assault, swinging my own claws at it as I do so and swiping my tail at another, earning two howls of pain in response.

One dying and two injured with minimal damage to my armor. This is how well the fight with Shaggy and Laggy would have gone had I been able to maneuver and use my armor to its full potential and been able to inflict true damage through their fat. It is likely that their larger weight behind their attacks would have been able to truly threaten me and I would have been forced to be far more aggressive to deal with their fat, but the only way to know for sure is to fight them again.

My rematch will come some day. I have sworn it.

Getting up, the remaining two are circling to try and find an opening and the injured ones have fallen back. Now it's their turn to learn the harsh lesson of curiosity. Before long, eager for another lesson and to avenge their parent, they all charge forward again... this time with a new tactic.

With the injured two to my rear and the fresh two to my front, they all charge and try to bite at my legs. Spinning to face my injured foes I flash my tail in the faces of the braver ones but they all dart back once more before attacking again.

One goes for my regrowing left hindleg and the other for my right hindleg, sinking their teeth in, which does hurt quite a bit--the carapace on my legs isn't anywhere close to being as thick as it is on my back and sides, especially on my new leg. Ow. They pull me back and rather than allow myself to be rendered helpless I roll, dislodging them and swinging my hindclaws in their faces!

Yowling, rather than attempt to latch on again they move to my sides to try and gang up on me again with the others. Only one now sits back, blood dripping down its muzzle.

Three injured, one to go; I'd like to start landing more fatal blows, and I can afford to be bold. So far their tactics seem suited to taking down larger individual prey safely over time, but I am not like the elk and their caution will cost them. Rolling back to my feet I open into another charge, but this time they're ready and avoid me. They're not desperate--they're angry, but not desperate. I could leave at any time with the tide of battle in my favor, but I won't.

Perhaps they would follow me, perhaps they would not. It is irrelevant because this begins and ends here.

Pivoting and changing direction I feint towards the parent but instead change for its injured progeny which I don't allow a chance to react. Tail warding its elder off from supporting it, I tackle them, bowling us both over causing us to roll into a tree. These creatures are lithe and used to fighting singular opponents that can't defend themselves from all angles; they may be able to dodge me but I can outsmart them!

Luckily--though it truly didn't matter much--when our roll was stopped I was left on top. Scrabbling at my armor my opponent is helpless as I rake all of my claws into its belly, goring it open before I turn to face my next victim.

Letting out a mournful howl the parent recklessly charges at me one final time, catching me in my side as I rotate to face them. Once more I'm rolling with my foe, and I feel teeth latch onto my neck! But before it can shake and tear, my scythes have already come falling down to bring the beast to share the fate of its mate. This time, I get it in its own neck, slicing through and out, severing its spine.

It simply slumps and I tug it and its teeth off of me.

The final two, injured as they are, turn tail and run as I glare at them. They know they can't win, their parents and sibling lay dying. In all, the battle didn't even last half a minute, with a notable chunk of that just being from them staring at me warily. Nonetheless I'm quite tired from it. Curse this air.

Panting, I flop down next to the one I gored and begin to root through its organs for the choicer ones. I avoid the stomach and intestines, preferring to take the heart and liver. These beasts are lean with little meat to their bones beyond tough muscle so they aren't a good food source but that is fine--their flesh is seasoned with victory.

Predators make for poor prey, but food isn't the only aspect to the hunt.

Kin themselves are pack animals like these, but only socially--we prefer to hunt alone or with our mates; though parent and siblings as adolescents. They could still be the same as us but only if they are more nomadic rather than having a set hunting ground, and I do not know precisely how intelligent they are. The relative food scarcity that forces us to keep our numbers low also demands organization and structure to our hunting habits.

Tearing into and tasting the heart of my fallen foe, its stagnant dead juices are pumped one final time into me instead. Hearts are mostly muscle but there's something about eating that which gives power to your enemy that I'll never get over. Obviously it's no better nutritionally than regular meat but I do prefer to eat the heart when I can. You have to appreciate the small things in life, though hearts usually aren't small.

Having finished selectively eating only the best parts from my prey, I examine the two larger ones and reinforce my conclusion that this was a family unit and these two were the parents. I think the three progeny were adults though, or at least close to it. In a way these predators are quite like Kin but still so different in many ways, like smaller and furrier cousins.

Before I leave I check my carapace and the locations where I can feel a slight aching sensation from, especially my neck. I did still get a little bit hurt, even if it'll heal pretty quickly. I give myself a once-over.

My back is covered in thick continuous pieces of chitin which restrict my ability to lean back, but it's no issue; my spine isn't meant to bend back anyway. My chest has two plates side-by-side, rivaling those on my back. My belly is protected by many smaller plates able to interlock and bend, though just as easily clicking apart as needed from bloat. While I could certainly not curl up as tightly as these creatures here could, I am still able to do so just fine.

While the armor on necks is different according to sex, my own have begun to split and reform to accommodate my growing neck. Those on the back and sides are interlocked diamonds much like those on my belly. The front is simple scale; relatively vulnerable, but able to convey sensation. I do like having my neck rubbed, but bereft of a mate, I have always lacked someone willing to scratch and rub my neck.

Behind my front shoulders are two plates similar to my chest plates, but they're longer. After them along my sides are a multitude of plates growing in size as they climb higher. My back plates are four in number, with a final fifth one at the base of my tail serving as added protection for the joint, though it restricts movement upwards. As a Kin ages their plates will continue to break up so that they may be better anchored; while I have only four plates, Mother has many more.

Down my sides and on my back are rents from their claws but thankfully none of those were able to pierce my armor. Feeling at my neck, the bite did get through but didn't draw too much blood before the wound clotted over. My neck was simply too broad for it to get a good bite. My legs are bleeding a bit with some slight muscle tearing but that's no issue, much as it hurts. My left hindleg is still discolored but the chitin is actually different in more than one way from the rest of me: whilst my leg is smooth and new, the rest of my carapace has a slightly rough texture to it as scars from my earlier burns.

Due to our regeneration abilities scars are rare, and in some cases the lack of scarring is and of itself a scar, such as the case of my left hindleg.

The pain is localized to my damaged muscle. Kin carapaces have sparse nerve endings, conveying very little feeling. Thinner and flexible parts--especially skin--have an average amount of nerve endings, and due to the rarity of the sensation, results in the rubbing of skin being very pleasurable. Scale is almost as good, but not the same.

With my hunger sated, rivals dealt with and no notable injuries, it's time to move on. My regrowing leg is somewhat torn up, but it was a problem already. I ensure to grab my bag before I leave.

As I crest the ridgeline beyond the site of battle, my thoughts waver from my prey briefly to that of my environment.

This place really is beautiful. My home is beautiful in its own way but this is like nothing I've ever seen! I've climbed taller trees poking above the canopy but even then it's just leaves, leaves, and leaves as far as the eye can see; the true beauty of the land hidden beneath. This place is the opposite: bumpy with the best views from far away. I got a good look at the lake a few times early on this trip and the path I'd already taken to get here but it's hidden by the mountains now, which themselves conceal the setting sun.

Which is good for me I suppose. It means my prey can't navigate very well. I can't have it getting help, now can I?

Along the trail earlier I'd found a few berry bushes picked clean of their minuscule fruits and a few streams my prey likely drank from. She won't be starved when I find her at least. At first she was too panicked to think about food but now she's wisening up. She still isn't smart enough to have tried using the streams to conceal her footsteps and scent, though.

I'm getting very close now. I can literally smell it. This is good. The sky is darkening not just from the setting sun, and rain will arrive soon.

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A/N:

This chapter was a pain to write. I needed more filler between the scene with Spencer and the upcoming scene with Susan, so I used the downtime in the tent for exposition, but it wasn't enough. I wanted at least two chapters to serve as a palate cleanser. So, you get a fight scene demonstrating just how much more dangerous she really is compared to Earth predators what with her natural weapons and armor. Not to mention actually being able to fight.

When I get around to writing the prequel, you'll get to see what that's all meant for. There may be the concept of Earth being a 'deathworld,' but her home would steal that title easily.

In the next chapter, our protagonist meets her prey, and her prey meets her end. Things are going to get quite weird in between, though.

Susan's had a pretty bad few days.