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 36: Interlude 5: Watched

---

My dog, Dylan, is well-behaved despite the excitement of a walk. He’s still excited of course, just behaved and obedient like any good boy should. I scratch his ears as he sits patiently whilst I get ready.

We leave my home and I lock the door behind us, the soon-to-be-setting sun shining down on across my house. Despite the after-dinner hour few others are out walking their dogs and it seems as if every other power pole has a missing dog poster on it. I recognize only one as having been there before, which is... concerning, to say the least. Dylan picks up on my unease so I give him more scratches to calm him down and we continue.

After an otherwise nice walk across town we arrive at the local grocers and step inside. Knowing us, the nearby cashier doesn’t bat an eye at the pet.

“Hey there Officer Marty,” he greets. “Lovely night for a walk, eh?”

I wave my free hand in a so-and-so motion, the other holding the leash. “It’s clear and cool, so that’s something.”

He boredly continues processing another customer’s order. “Too true. Every year a part of me wishes for the heat back, but not this year.”

The woman across from him turns with her bag full of fruits and other miscellanea, and I do a double-take.

“Hey, I know you. You’re Carey, that ranger that went missing.”

She shyly turns to hide herself. Odd.

“I heard you were back. Are you doing okay?”

With her attempt to ignore me a failure she sighs and turns back to face me with a clearly forced smile. “Great! Do, uh... you need anything, Mr...?”

Remembering I’m not in uniform and realizing the circumstances I cringe. “Right, sorry. My name’s Marty, I’m one of the officers who was helping search for you. I’m with the local RCMP. I forgot we hadn’t met yet, I’m used to dealing with Frank.”

She shuffles her feet and idly glances to a patient Dylan before back to me, neither her posture or expression loosening. “Oh. Yeah! Right, sorry about all that. I just got a bit lost is all. Heh...” she uneasily chuckles.

Hm. Suspicious, but I’ll leave the questions for Harper. “Well, nice to meet you. Hey, want to meet Dylan, here?” I gesture down to the dog.

She visibly relaxes slightly and nods.

“Dylan, this is Carey. Carey is a friend,” I inform the dog. He perks up and waits for further command; I turn back to look at her. “Offer him your hand.”

She does so, and to my surprise Dylan slightly leans back, suspiciously sniffing the offered limb and crinkling his nose at her. She notices and rather than risk anything, pulls back.

“That’s odd,” I remark. “I’ve never seen him react like that before. Did you touch any weird fruits or something?”

I look at her bag. Strawberries, blueberries, bananas, pears, oranges, and a lot of each--enough to fill an entire reusable shopping bag, but nothing exotic.

“No...” she mutters. “Maybe she, uh... smells my friend’s dog on me.”

Dylan has never reacted like this before to any dog he’s ever met; even little annoying yappy ones.

“Huh, maybe. What breed?”

She stands stunned for a moment before recovering, occasionally glancing at Dylan who has warily retreated behind my legs. “Em-ma is a... uh, I don’t actually know. Some... foreign breed.”

“I know dogs pretty well,” I offer. “I helped train Dylan myself, always been a fan of dogs. Maybe I’ll have to meet her some time and I could tell you.”

“She uh, went missing a few days ago,” she cringes. “Bit of a damper on my return to be honest.”

Fuck. What the hell is going on?

“Damn. I’m sorry to hear that.” In the awkward lull I glance at her bag again. “Say, uh, that’s a lot of fruits there. If you’re making fruit salads, mind sharing your recipe? I hear your family’s pretty good with food, did the Grillhouse get more vegetarian options?”

“No to both. That skipped me. My mother and sister are the cooks, so you’d have to ask them about that sort of thing.”

“Hm. Alrighty. You have a good night miss.” With that she hastily leaves and I begin my shopping.

---

After a long day of footwork both recreationally and professionally--trying to find that final body with Dylan--it’s good to sit back and relax. I grab the remote and turn on the television then crack open a bag of chips. I check my usual channels.

Rerun. Rerun. Don’t like this one. Rerun. Bad movie; not desperate enough. Whatever, video on demand time.

Shrill barking erupts in the distance many houses down, to which Dylan perks up. It continues as I try to enjoy my night before finally going silent, the owner dealing with it.

Dylan is even more fascinated than I am by the documentary we’re watching on the history of dog training. But suddenly another dog begins barking and a few more join it, none of them from the documentary. I recognize them as the Pattons’ dogs, who live a few doors down. It continues and continues before one of them yelps and all go quiet.

They better not be kicking the poor things. I might have to pay them a visit otherwise, do them like I did last time back in Vancouver. Then again, I learned a lesson already on that front... so here I am in assfuck nowhere with my qualifications.

Dylan settles and returns his attention to the screen. We watch ancient grainy footage as a man leads an immaculate corgi through a course in a contest-

But suddenly Dylan perks up once more and runs from the room. I hear the doggy door’s rustle and my boy frantically barking. The hell’s going on? I mute the TV and get up, looking out the window.

At the edge of the back porch’s light he’s stood with his legs planted, staring into the dark forest. Confused, I head around and out the back door.

“Dylan!” I call. “Heel! Come!”

He glances back to me and stands his ground. Wary, I approach and grab him by the collar, guiding him back with me to the house. Neither of us takes our eyes from the treeline and I catch a glimpse of a cat’s eyes; a cougar. That would explain the barking earlier and it would make sense; lots of animals are still displaced by the fires. There could be one going after pets.

In my hands he steadily calms, his suspicious behavior abating. He’ll just have to stay indoors for the night.

---

Whining and whimpering interrupts my sleep. Mounting frustration washes away fatigue as I rise.

“Dylan,” I ask. “What’s wrong, boy?”

He ignores me and begins to bark, each time shrill and piercing. Pale moonlight shines in from the open window along with a calm autumn breeze bringing woodland scents. Taking a quick glance outside I see nothing so I stand between it and the dog as I try to calm him down once more.

“It’s okay, Dylan. It’s okay...” I kneel down to scratch his ears but he falls backward, scrambling for the other side of the room. With a heavy sigh I turn and shut the window. He remains shaking--though visibly calmer--so I grab his collar and hug him close; rubbing, scratching, and petting him.

To prevent any more incidents before the animal can clear out I seal the rest of the windows in my home. The breeze abates and I return to catching up on lost sleep.

...But just as I’m getting comfortable I blearily blink once and twice... and notice the huge piercing green eyes peering in through the window.

“What the fuck!” I bolt upright in surprise as the eyes disappear around the edge. I turn on my lamp and toss on some pants, slippers, and my holstered gun. Sprinting for the back door I grab a spare flashlight and throw it open to find absolutely nothing in my back yard; no cougar.

But shining the light around I spot the back gate unlatched and open, the dark trees just as empty.

“Hey! Who’s there?” I demand, but the only response is dead leaves shifting in the wind. Cougars don’t open gates, and that wasn’t a bear! Panning around with the light, the rest of the yard and the treeline are entirely empty so I cross and close the gate, but when I turn around to head back inside I catch movement darting around the corner!

Damn the footwear I give chase and hear my garbage can get knocked over! I pull my handgun and ready to fire, but when I round the edge I find only my garbage can with a great gash in its side. Trash is strewn about and I can hear movement from the front so I kick aside food packaging and continue pursuit.

Once more coming around the corner I shine my flashlight around but find only my yard and the quiet street.

What the hell was that all about? Thoroughly annoyed with the situation I right the can and put that off as tomorrow’s problem before heading inside.

I lock the doors and windows, draw the curtains, and warily settle down back in front of the dark television, gun by my side and dog at my feet. The doors rattle, the windows shake, and the walls are alive with growls and grunts. Every sound sends more adrenaline coursing through me but at some point, I pass out from exhaustion...

...Hours later I’m still exhausted but I blink my eyes open regardless. Quickly glancing around I note the light shading through the curtains and blinds, and find Dylan guarding me loyally. I set aside my gun and stumble to the kitchen, but when I do I spot lights of a different sort. Blue and red, strobing and flashing.

Sprinting for the front door still shirtless I throw it open and look around. The squad car is parked three doors down in front of the Hart residence, Mrs. Hart and the family’s teenaged son and daughter milling around as the woman speaks with the officers on night shift. I jog over and all turn to stare at me, my coworkers with looks of recognition, the children in confusion, and Mrs. Hart balefully, eyes full of tears.

---

A/N:

This story inevitably has some horror and terror elements as a small side genre and this chapter really encapsulates that. From another perspective, Emeral really is a legitimately scary creature to have stalking you.

Anyway, that aside this and the previous chapter were the ones where I really had to assert to myself that it’s okay to have a shorter chapter. It’s also when I decided that if a chapter is shorter, then I may upload a second one along with it regardless of that one’s length when I get to them. That way when I’m posting chapters weekly people reading as they’re uploaded don’t have to wait as long for as much content.