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 30: The Den

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Owwwwww.

I really need to take some time to rest soon, but I’m not sure if my Carey will--or would--be able to care for me. If it gets much worse I won’t be able to hunt for myself, but thankfully the small creatures of this place are docile and foolish to my presence. Food comes easy, even if movement does not.

Carey is hiking ahead of me, and as she reaches the summit of our current hill, she perks up in excitement before turning back to me.

“Emeral! Come!” she calls, a happy lilt to her voice.

In no hurry, I continue my sedate pace. I’d really rather not aggravate my injuries more than I already have; fire still courses through my rear. When I do make my way up beside her... my jaw drops.

I did not have an opportunity to see the created-nesting grounds days prior, so the sight before me comes as a massive shock. What must be hundreds of structures occupy the very center of the valley with the occasional line bereft of trees snaking to and away from it, identifying rivers and paths. The structures come in a variety of sizes and shapes, with some groupings being mostly identical or at least quite similar, and others quite different from their neighbors.

Is this... is this Carey’s... what, brood? Does her kind function like ours? Surely they must live together in communities, working to create and build for each other. I find it hard to imagine that one single individual could do so many different things all at once and remember how to do everything properly. That may be how we do things, but that’s just hunting. Just hunting.

Just... hunting.

At the end of the day, sad as it is to think about... it’s all we truly are.

I haven’t really put much thought into it, but I suppose that I must be right in some form. Her excitement, her determination to come this way, it must be her home.

Another thought strikes me. At first, I thought of her kind as being like the tall intruders invading my own home, but they are clearly different in many ways and yet similar in others. My only experience with them had been during the raid, but Mother has spoken of their great created-nesting grounds where more of their kind dwell than can be counted. This place is surely far too small for ‘thousands upon thousands,’ but it is still substantial and I have yet to see any trace of even a single Kin anywhere in the region.

Could it perhaps be that... I am the intruder here?

Hm.

I am the intruder. The invader. The outsider in the ecosystem. Nothing here seems to have known the teeth of a Kin or the flow of our voices.

I am truly very far from home, then.

Carey beckons me forward as I emerge from my shocked revelations. She descends the hill towards the forests surrounding her kind’s place and I follow, my mind in an unsettled state. Revelation after revelation hits me in quick succession, and now once more I feel well and truly lost.

But there is always a way forward. Following Carey... this seems like perhaps the best opportunity I have to get home, and not just to survive my wound and the gnawing hunger to heal it. We shall see where this twist leads me.

If the tall intruders came to our home, perhaps someone among her own kind knows how to get there as well.

---

We eventually emerge from the forests to find a wall of wood, one crafted into the form of a wall. Taller than her--though not taller than I if I were to stand up--it blocks most of what’s beyond it from my vision. I can make out a strange sloping scaled construct on the other side, but that’s it. The texture vaguely reminds me of a tail.

Carey heads over to a part of the obstruction different from the rest, and fiddles with it a bit before giving up. She then heads around the side and I follow. We turn a corner and continue along it with trees all around us, but as we approach the end of the wall she stealthily peeks around the edge as if worried about predators, which confuses me greatly.

If this is her kind’s place, then there shouldn’t be predators here. And on that note, I would be surprised if I could not fend them off even as I am right now. The only thing that could worry her would be others seeing me and potentially being frightened by my appearance.

That would make sense! That must be it.

After a moment she beckons me onward and we round the corner before being met by another wall of sorts; this one is made of dull sharp-rock, and seems suited more to be a suggestion to stop rather than a demand. She once more fiddles with a different part of it, and succeeds this time, opening it. A ‘door’? A ‘was locked’? If I’m going to be in her place I’m going to need to learn her words, and I still don’t know which is the state and which is the object.

However, I am able to see the structure now which the wall had been hiding. The smaller wall seals the gap between it and the structure; what I can only assume to be her created-nest seeing as we are approaching it. The structure is quite large and surely holds many things within. The ground in front is covered in tiny rocks that form another path leading away to an opening where a larger one waits. A growling sounds out as a mover briefly appears, informing me of the purposes of both paths: they’re obviously for movers.

The structure itself has some see-through openings interrupting its front, but I can’t really tell what’s inside from my present location so I follow Carey through the opening to the back.

As she moves to fiddle with yet another potential opening-wall--this one set in the ground against the structure--I gaze around at this new environment. It seems quite... created. Artificial. The grass is cut low and there is little variety to the flora. Created. Artificial. Curated. Kept and tended. This is something that I had also noticed in front of the created-nest as well. A lone tree sits in the corner and many strange objects--notably a smaller created-nest consisting of one room--are scattered around the space. I will have to explore further later.

While I gaze around, Carey fails to open this second opening-wall as well so she turns to me.

“Emeral. Stay,” she commands, before reaching under a nearby rock and pulling something from below. She uses it on the ‘opening-ground,’ and I note the tool’s similarity to what the small mover needed to run. It is a key.

She throws the two surfaces keeping the hole sealed and points down into the darkness.

“Emeral, down,” she commands.

Hm. I remember what happened last time I went down in a created-nest... I found myself in a new world filled with strange creatures and landscapes. Hopefully I don’t have a repeat of that incident here; I’ve only just begun to get used to this place.

I trod over to the hole. The slope is stepped with steep wooden surfaces allowing for the placement of feet. The hole itself is thankfully large enough for me if I squeeze through but I have to carefully back in to do so. At least for now--this is new to me.

When I reach the bottom I twist around once more and find myself within a room filled with many strange things: containers, soft surfaces, what looks like a sight-sound rectangle, and another opening-wall in the corner. Carey makes her way down after me, sealing the entry closed once more before tapping on my back.

Oh, right, I’m in the way.

I shuffle aside whilst being careful not to hit anything--especially with my tail. I don’t want to damage something, otherwise I won’t be able to learn what the item would be used for and perhaps make use of it. The only light in the room filters down through holes high in the walls. They’re sealed with more of that transparent material which they like to use to stop air and animals but not light.

Suddenly light shines from a spot on the ceiling, banishing the darkness as I blink my four eyes repeatedly in an attempt to adjust. Very surprising.

I turn to look at Carey and she flicks a very tiny stick on the wall, plunging the room back into the dim and shadowed place it was before. She then flicks it again, bringing the light back. I turn to look at the spot on the ceiling, and note how it must be a flashlight. Interesting.

Carey pipes up from behind me. “This is a light [switch,] Emeral.”

No ‘flash’? Just ‘light’? ‘Flash’ must be a modifier then, so ‘switch’ must be one too.

Whatever. I’ll just call it a light.

Carey goes over to the other opening-wall and I initially follow, however she turns and stops me.

“Emeral, stay,” she orders.

Hmph. But I want to explore! Ah, well. There are lots of things here.

She goes on ahead without me, but I can hear her steps ascend another stepped path and the ceiling creaks as she walks above. Soon after I can hear her voice from above. Muffled as it is I pay it no mind.

So. It would seem that I now finally have shelter, a potential source of food, and many new things to tinker with all in easy reach! But where to begin...

First I pull my bag from my head and place it down against a strange something vaguely reminiscent of the hunter’s seat mixed with the seats at the couple’s created-nesting grounds. The object is large, covered in what look like larger versions of my pillow, and could probably hold at least three-to-four Careys or one of me. I could perhaps try resting on it later... my pillow felt nice for my head, so how nice could this feel?

How amazing it must be to have weak and soft skin with no armor and be able to feel the softness. Perhaps I could gorge myself and laze upon this thing... but for now, I move on.

The sight-sound rectangle in here is far larger than the other one and is somehow even more incomprehensible. It’s been sat upon a wooden surface that itself has more surfaces within. The device lacks an obvious method of controlling it and while there are fiddly little not-wood and sharp-rock things below it, checking them out would take more work than I feel like putting in--it would be easier to just have Carey show me how it works.

Finally, there are many containers down here taking up an entire side of the room overflowing from a corner where a long surface sits a bit below halfway up the wall. More containers sit upon yet another surface--this one standing alone--which has multiple plain wooden seats placed around it.

I immediately walk over as containers and bags have always held the strangest of new objects--not to mention the weird part of the room itself. One of the containers is tall and wide to the point of nearly reaching the ceiling. It seems to have two big parts that open; one smaller one above, and one larger one below. The wall-surface has many opening parts within its front and when I open one I find yet more boxes along with tubes. Above it is a sharp-rock basin with a weird stick that has a knob on it and opposite the tall container is a sharp-rock contraption bereft of boxes.

It’s a bit tricky maneuvering around the sitting-surface but I make do. The tall sharp-rock container smells vaguely of many different scents and the smaller ones smell even stranger. I begin my investigation by looping my claws through the handle of the top opening-part and tug it open.

What greets me is the scent of cold air and the sight of frozen meats. This must be similar to those not-wood containers in the trees! I seal it back up so that the cold does not escape.

I open the bottom one just as easily and find what appear to be sharp-rock liquid containers similar to those I had seen the couple drinking from and not-wood bottles full of a dark liquid. There are a few articles of food--notably a bowl of orange fruits, which I take out and set aside--but other than the drinks the container is empty.

Just as I’m about to seal it I notice storage space within the part that opens. There are a few containers that look to be made of not-wood--perhaps not the same material as not-wood--which smell of different strange new scents. One is similar to the fruits I have acquired and the other I do not recognize, so I take both out as well.

Finally, new foods. Hopefully these are better than the bag Carey had brought me days ago, but considering that they have been in the cold that may be a bit of an ask.

First I take the fruits, for I do love fruits. New fruits are always good. These orange ones are firm and remind me of large berries. On a whim I spear one on my claws and bite off half of it.

The taste is new indeed; sour, almost bitter, but I can definitely taste the hint of sugars. I shall call this fruit an orange, for it is orange. It also somehow tastes orange. I chew, swallow, and stick the other half in my mouth. I pull it from my claws with my lips before repeating the process. It’s not very sweet but it’s still good--fruits are fruit!

After licking my claws clean of the fruit’s tangy juices, I go for the container that smells similar. I try shaking it a bit and liquid sloshes within. It’s got a strange opening on the top that I can’t figure out, so I simply hold it over my open mouth and puncture it. What emerges is a fluid that tastes like the juices of the orange, seemingly concentrated and purified of pulp. I quickly grow tired of the slow stream, so I squeeze the container gently and squirt more into my greedy throat, barely tasting it as I swallow.

When it’s finally drained of its sour goodness I tear it open to slurp up the remaining juices within, which are predictably orange just like the orange. With that done I chuck it over my shoulder as my female prey had done. I don’t know why this is the thing to do, but apparently it is.

Next up is the other one. I repeat my prior method, and the juices that flow from within are... different, to say the least. It’s an entirely new taste, neither salty, sweet, or even bitter. It just is. Curious, I tear this one open as well to find a suspicious white substance.

I’m stunlocked for a second before I remember. I have seen this before... the hunter had some, just... in a different container, a bag which I forgot to investigate. It’s definitely food then, not other things.

Eh. Whatever. I huck this one over my shoulder as well... after slurping up the liquid within it. Food is food.

I grab another orange and chuck it in my mouth, savoring the taste for a bit as I turn to the next object of my fascination: the sharp-rock basin. In its floor is an opening, and the tube curves out and over it. These two tubes must connect to those I saw below. Experimentally, I twist the knob and clear liquid flows out. I swallow my orange, and extend my tongue out to have a taste.

Thlp.

Water! It’s water! This is amazing!

Thlp thlp thlp thlp thlp!

I can drink here and I could even refill my bottles! This has to be the best thing I’ve found so far! Why live near the lake when you could bring the lake to you?

Having very much had my fill of water and other liquids, I turn off the tap and watch as the water flows down the hole. That’s another thing answered; this must be a place dedicated to eating and drinking, hence the surface for sitting at. It still doesn’t explain the containers, though.

Finally, I check out the sharp-rock surface. It’s quite similar to the hunter’s fire-tamer and although I can’t remember the symbols on it, the top of these devices are very distinct. This appears to be a significantly larger version of it and it has an opening part in its bottom like the rest of the surface it’s aligned with. However, rather than boxes, it’s merely empty but for an arrangement of sharp-rock sticks in many weird shapes, sizes, and directions, all with a grille in the middle of the space.

How confusing. Now for the containers, and then I shall rest.

Leaning against the wall beside the cold container is another container made of a very weak and soft but firm wood-like material. It’s haphazardly assembled, and seems more like a wrapping than a true container. I pull it down to peek inside the top, and find... a tree. A relatively tiny one not dissimilar from those outside. Rather than smelling like them, this one just smells like not-wood. Why anyone would want a fake tree in their nest is beyond me.

I push the not-tree and its wrapping container back up and turn to one of the boxes on the table. This one slightly jangles as I shift it. It and most of the other containers are made of the same material as the one wrapping around the not-tree, with flaps keeping them sealed. They’re trivial to gently pull open, revealing many shining and colorful objects within.

Carefully, I reach in and hook a single claw through a bit of sharp-rock on the object’s top, and bring it up to my eyes. It appears to be a red ball with strange regularly spaced yellow markings zig-zagging across it.

As I study it, I hear steps coming down to this level once more, and the opening-wall opens as Carey peeks her head in with a strange object pressed to her ear. I excitedly turn to her and hold up the weird ball.

“Hello Carey. What this?” I ask.

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A/N:

Milk being mistaken for ‘yiff milk’ is a gag used twice in this story and will not occur again because Emeral won’t encounter weird white fluid again. That she doesn’t recognize.

Speaking of milk, deeplore fact: Kin aren’t lactose tolerant. They aren’t breastfed. At all. They don’t produce lactase.

Poor Emeral.