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 32: Suspicions and Scratches

---

Scratch scratch scratch.

Snort.

Mnh. Still hurts. At least I'm eating better now.

My Carey has brought me to her nest; she has fed me, and now... I don't know what now. Now I suppose I heal?

Boring.

Scratch scratch scratch.

I continue my idle scratching, poking, rubbing, and prodding at the long-healed holes stopping only to occasionally run my claws beneath the edges of my plates. I seem to have discovered a profound new problem--one all who are injured or ill suffer from:

Boredom.

Wait. I feel a rumble. I rush for the hatch, shoving it open with my head and making my way outside and further, beyond Carey's yard.

I hate being sick.

---

Nibbling. Nibbling. Nibbling all over.

Biting. Scratching. Tearing through flesh.

A foul scent permeates the air.

Biting, biting, biting, biting, BITING-

I jolt awake!

Late-morning light shines through drawn curtains. I'm safe. I'm fine. No giant monsters. No endless teeth. No... Emeral.

I glance at my alarm clock and groggily note that it's almost lunchtime. A part of me wants to be upset for sleeping in but another part knows I've certainly earned it. Yet another knows that my work isn't done.

Compromise between need to work and desire to rest sees me get up, use the bathroom, shower, and get dressed. Before I leave to go make myself an extremely late breakfast I pocket a small box of pills from the medicine cabinet.

Stepping into the hall I pass the guest bedroom and main bathroom. Before heading to the kitchen I take a quick glance down the stairs to the basement, noting the lounge door still shut. Sam's door is closed as well--whether she's at work or not, I can't tell.

I take a pan and quickly fry up some eggs. I sit down to eat, stab a fork into a bit of egg, and--

“Finally awake I see." I nearly drop my fork in surprise but quickly rein in the panic. Turning, I find my apparently very stealthy sister and internally curse. She's frowning slightly and she's still in pajamas; no work today then, which makes things difficult.

I do my best to nonchalantly ignore her and go back to my meal. “Yep."

She pulls out a chair and takes a seat, waiting for me to finish or start talking. I volunteer nothing and eat in silence. When I finish I act as if nothing is amiss--something neither of us is fooled by--and set my plate on the counter before turning and heading for the basement.

“I got curious after one too many noises."

I freeze.

“Put my ear to the door. Wanna know what I heard?"

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck. Of all the times for Sam to grow a spine...

“Carey... you ghosted Mom for a dog?"

Oh thank god. She can't see my expression, but stopping certainly tipped her off.

I suppress the panic showing on my face and turn to face her. Finding the right words is hard, so we simply stare at each other before I finally speak. “It's a complicated situation Sam, and I'll absolutely explain in detail later, but for now I need to go."

She isn't amused. “Carey. I had to put up with Mom babying me all week. I don't need more of that. I want to know the truth."

Damnit.

“How about this," I sigh. “I will show you in one hour, hard maximum. Just... give me time to get everything sorted out."

She pulls out her phone and huffs defiantly. “Fine."

...And so I continue.

The lounge doorknob clicks once more as it unlocks and I enter. For a moment another spike of panic shoots through me when I notice the hatch open and no fucking alien! I run for the opening and ascend the steep steps, searching for my charge. She's nowhere in the back yard, and looking back at the house I note the dining room window and its curtains being open.

I race back through the basement and when I get to the stairs, force myself to act casual and slow down. I walk past Sam and seal the window. She looks at me questioningly.

“What? It isn't summer any more," I offer. “Oh, and I'm going for a walk."

She shrugs and goes back to her phone. “One hour, Carey." I nonchalantly head to the front door, glad that I put on casualwear and socks instead of pajamas. On go my boots and jacket--my personal one, not my dirty ranger one--and I head out the door.

Immediately I notice tracks in the left-over mud from last night's rains. Following them leads me into the woods a ways, and I arrive to a familiar scene: a twitching tail in the undergrowth. Rounding the bush she's behind, I find her drooped next to a divot in the dirt, groaning and moaning. I reassuringly pat her back as she suffers.

After a few minutes of dry-heaving she returns to her faculties and stands. She bonks her head into my chest and shoves me back, so I hug her neck. A tongue slips loose and laps at my cheek before she breaks the embrace, walking back the way we came.

---

Retrieving the box of meds, I set them down on the counter and consider whether this is actually a good idea or not. I don't know how she got here, but Emeral is clearly an alien and these are meant for humans. They shouldn't be expired either since my infection was a month ago, but still: alien biology.

Extra antibiotics. Normally you're supposed to take the entire course and not keep any 'just in case,' but worrywart Mom pulled small-town strings and had the pharmacist give me literal extra. I'm fairly sure that they weren't allowed to do that, but what's done is done and it might actually be helping me out here.

I'm not certain that she's actually sick, or even if she can get sick from Earth stuff, but the facts are that she's showing all signs of it and I know she got shot. At times it was like she was about to conk over, and though she seems only lethargic now aside from the runs... do I do it anyway, just in case?

I hear and feel the alien approach, her head dipping down from above as she parks behind me.

“What that, Carey?" she innocently asks.

No. Too risky. She got this far, I have to trust that she'll be fine. She's been getting better, after all...

I return the pills and raise a hand to pat her cheek in answer. There's no way that I could explain it or my thoughts to her as we are now so that's all she gets in response.

Some of the boxes have been knocked over or moved so I quickly tidy things up. The couch was flipped at some point and the coffee table is in rougher shape--not that it's easy to notice since it was already ancient. I simply move it out of the way so she has more room. Somehow one of the chairs at the kitchenette ended up on the counter, so I deal with that as well. When the room is presentable once more I pat the couch and have her lay on it.

It's not ideal. She's far too large for it and it creaks ponderously when she flops onto it. I could shift some of the boxes in one corner around and make her a space, but bare concrete wouldn't be very comfortable. We do have Sam's old mattress, which would be more efficient but still only barely fit her if she curled up.

We'll see. For now she simply lounges, her legs splayed out, neck drooped over one end, and her tail off the other. I'm lucky the couch hasn't broken; I don't know how much she weighs but it's absolutely in the upper triple-digits, what with all of that armor she's... 'wearing.' And her tracks are definitely deeper than an equivalent bear's.

She idly scratches at a spot on her rump and I bat her hand away, having recognized it as the entry wound. She makes a rough sound in response but I ignore her and examine the site myself, hoping she hasn't damaged it too badly.

The plate's edge allows me to pull it up just a little. The location is easily identified thanks to the semicircular gouge on each side of the divide. Beneath it there's still a bit of crusted blood, but bar surprisingly little scar tissue it seems pristine, absolutely unlike a picked-at scab. Leaving her I head to the basement bathroom and wet a cloth.

Returning I find her scratching again. I force her claws away and rub the cloth gently beneath the plate and on the skin, all around the site; basic first aid that will not only keep her clean, but perhaps reduce irritation. The blood comes away with a bit of less-gentle scrubbing and Emeral makes what I've come to identify as pleased grunts when I do so. On impulse I stick my fingers beneath her plates again and gently rub, working the digits into her surprisingly tough skin.

She grunts once more, and I trace along the edge of the plates, wondering at the odd sensation. What must it be like to be covered in armor? Touch is such an important sensation, and yet she seems almost starved of it if just a little poking and prodding is enough to elicit a reaction.

I end my explorations and bring the bloodied cloth to the kitchenette's sink, rinsing it off before squeezing it out and setting it aside on the counter. Turning back to Emeral I find her curiously eyeing me.

“Emeral," I address her. “Be good. You good. Please?"

She looks at me quizzically for a moment before baring her teeth and baring her teeth, her 'smile.' “Good?" she asks.

“Yes. Good. You down. Stay," I affirm.

Her mouth seals shut and her lips purse. Displeasure; disagreement. It wouldn't make sense that an alien would have similar expressions to humans so it's quite a surprise that there's any similarity at all, but perhaps smiles are just universal. Regardless of the truth she remains where she is, bringing her head back around to lay it on the ground. I go to leave, but as an afterthought I grab her bag and pull the filthy pillow from it. I give it one look before returning it and grabbing a pillow from a shelf in the hall.

Her eyes are on me as I return and with one hand I coax her head up before slipping the pillow beneath. She lays it back down and huffs in contentment, blowing hot air over my legs.

“Thank you Carey," she mutters as I leave.

Okay. Alien taken care of: check. Is there anything else I didn't think of? She's got fruits in the fridge, so that's her breakfast handled, and lunch can come later.

I return my shoes to the front door and stash the meds back in the cabinet. Just in case.

---

I hear a knock at my door and pause my game. Looking at the timer on my phone I see twelve minutes remaining.

Finally.

“Come in!" I call, setting aside my headset.

My door opens and in she finally enters. With a pensive look on her face she takes a seat at the end of my bed, facing away in silence. I get up and stand by the door, facing her down but she's only barely able to meet my eyes, something I find very suspicious. It's rare to see her this conflicted on anything, always confidently striding forward to face any obstacle... so something is definitely going on.

“You can explain what's going on or I can see for myself," I sigh in exasperation. “Your choice, Carey."

She subtly twitches and makes to speak before stopping and taking a deep breath, somehow doing a worse job at putting on a confident face than I am. Just as I take a step for the door she finds her voice.

“What happened to you, Sam? You weren't like this a week ago. I'm gone for a few days and suddenly you're, well..."

She trails off so I press. “I'm 'well' what, Carey?"

“...You've changed," she blurts. “F-for the better, don't get me wrong. But it's so sudden, and you're actually asserting yourself, and I just..."

“You just what?"

She takes a long moment to breathe in, out, and gather her thoughts before continuing. “I can't help that a part of me just wishes things were simple again."

'Simpler.' Okay, something is wrong here.

“Carey... you're stalling."

“I know."

Fine. I turn and enter the hall.

“Wait!"

Before she can stop me I barge through the lounge door and enter, taking in the...

Huh.

Practically filling the old couch is a snoring mass of brown geometry laying on its back. I round the creature in shocked amazement, and just as I'm about to recollect my wits I notice the pillow, taking me out of things again. My old pillow. The animal is easily at least as large as a grizzly bear, though somehow stockier along with larger proportions. It bears an elongated neck with a strange tail opposite, and the entire being is coated in plates, scales, and scutes. Every limb is tipped in wicked blades, especially two sprouting from behind its shoulders. It bears a vague and passing resemblance to an alien from a video game I used to play, but other than that... it truly is alien.

I feel my sister edge beside me and we both stare at the thing that's apparently been living with us. Her strange behavior slowly clicks in my mind, and I have trouble formulating a response.

“Hey. Carey."

“...Yeah?"

“That's not a dog."

“...Nope."

“Bit too big for one."

“Yep."

“This why you ghosted Mom?"

“Mhm."

I gulp nervously. “Any idea what it is?"

“Nnnnope."

“Looks sharp."

“Very."

“Actually... kind of cute too."

She declines to respond. Cautiously I approach. She grabs my wrist and I glare back at her, finding her...

Worried.

Why?

Before I can question her she whispers quietly. “I don't know what to do with her... and I'm worried she might be dangerous."

'She' certainly looks dangerous, but...

“Then why would you bring her home?" I hiss.

She releases my hand and throws her own up, pacing around as she collects her thoughts.

“Because she's sick. She got hurt and while I'm fairly sure I know what's going on with her, there's nothing I can do about it," she huffs. “I thought about giving her medicine or something but I don't want to make things worse."

“Okay, look. Start from the beginning. What do you know about her?"

She gums for a moment. “I... met her after I crashed. She helped me."

“She helped you. Just- a random creature in the forest. Strolled along, helped you."

What I absolutely know to be her lying face crops up. “Yes."

I'll be digging into that later.

“So why exactly do you think she's dangerous then?"

“Uh... um..." she stammers, stumped and flummoxed. Once again she's grasping for something to say but I tire of it because I'm not Old Sam any more!

“Well then. I don't know what the big deal is. I'm going to get a closer look at our house guest then."

“Wait-" she hisses again, making another grab for my wrist but I evade. As I close in I note the rise and fall of its powerful chest beneath a multitude of plates, all interlocking perfectly. With one loud snore and a hearty snort the beast twitches and its four eyes blink awake, momentarily surprising me.

It shifts and a jolt of primal fear runs down my spine but I suppress any urges to back away, remaining still. Its head rises and twists to face me at an angle, better showing off its odd ocular arrangement: two on the front like a predator, two on each side like a a grazer, three locked forward on me. Two holes in its facial scaling twitch as it sniffs like a dog, taking in information as she looks me up and down.

The sniffs cease and she glances between I and Carey, thinking unknowable thoughts. No one moves or speaks, the surprise and oddity of the situation too pressing. Her head retreats back and she shifts slightly. As I study her form I notice the obvious and reinforce Carey's mention of 'she,' then avert my gaze in embarrassment.

I turn to face Carey and open my mouth but movement flashes in the corner of my eye and I shriek as my feet leave the ground!

---

Grabbing my prize I haul it closer, holding it tight to my body and tousling her hair; an oddity longer than my Carey's. While the eyes of the first of the two are blue, this one's are green like mine. She struggles for a moment before going limp, secure in my inescapable grasp atop me. With one arm wrapped around her I remain laid back once more, glancing to my Carey.

Her hand has gone to cover her mouth and she has taken a step back, two shots of fear entering the air. I feel an odd sense of guilt for scaring her, but know deeply neither has anything to fear right now. My Carey has done well bringing me my new toy.

From the moment I scented her I knew her to be one of the other smells I had noted on my Carey on the first day; their similarity obvious, she must be a sister. I feel the heartbeat of my quarry steadily slow as her breathing returns to normal, though her eyes remain wide in surprise and fear. Gently I lower my head back down to my new pillow, quashing the eagerness to interrogate my similarly new Other Carey.

---

I try to struggle and shift but the arm holding me does not relent, the beast returning to slumber. Carey remains stock still, eyes wide as she remains by the doorway. Doing my best to move past the awkwardness of the situation I break the ice.

“So... bit of an interesting puppy you've got here. A little rough though."

Her shock breaks and she saunters forward, fretting over me and the creature. At first she tries to pull the arm away but it merely compresses tighter, though notably not enough to prevent me from breathing. I remain trapped against her, feeling those powerful lungfuls slow and hearing her snoring resume.

“Hey, does she have a name? Can she even talk?" I ask.

Carey dumbly gapes for a moment before coming back to her senses.

“Uh. She can talk, yeah. I just call her Emeral."

“Weird name. Why?"

“Well, she's got green eyes and she had trouble pronouncing the 'd' in 'Emerald'..."

I shift in position atop the now-named 'Emeral,' careful to avoid my feet touching anywhere weird, ultimately just reclining back in a similar position.

“Not very creative but alright. Hey, this is surprisingly comfortable," I giggle. “Nice and warm. Not as rough as parts of her looked either. So, you were saying?"

“What?" she dumbly asks.

“About how you met her. Come on. What were you doing all the way in Campbell River? You had to have started walking the moment you crashed to make it all the way there through the rainforest."

“Oh. Right. Well, we just started walking, though she carried me for most of the way. We found the highway and I recognized where we were, so we followed it north."

“Couldn't you have just gone to the ranger station?"

She sighs. “To be honest I forgot. But mainly, communication with her is difficult and she doesn't know much English, so not really; I barely got her here as it is. And then it was slower going the rest of the way home because she was sick." She visibly shudders. “Which wasn't pretty by the way. Also, I think she's lactose intolerant."

Fun.

“Hm. Well, that would make sense. I, uh, don't see or feel any breasts. Is she some sort of lizard or something? If she is, how can you be sure she's a she?"

“I don't know. I think she knows more about me than I know about her," she spits out. “All I know is that she's big, she's surprisingly gentle, and is okay with eating stuff raw. Also, there's the whole 'pangolin alien' thing going on, and I'm not about to go poking around. Once I teach her more English I'll see if I can find out for sure."

I idly rub a hand at her plates beneath me, exploring the seams and feeling at the skin beneath. My actions provoke a soft snort, though my 'captor' remains asleep. Her 'fingers' hold me a bit tighter and while her claws have me worried, they're kept away from me even in her sleep.

“Right. Well, can you grab me my phone? I'm stuck here so I might as well read."

Carey huffs and leaves us, returning with a slight smile and more importantly, my phone.

She remains and sits at the table before patting at her pockets, her eyes going wide. “Shit, right."

“What?"

“I forgot my phone back at the truck. That's why I had to call Frank with a pay phone."

I sigh. She's always been scatterbrained but that's a new low for her.

She sits and I read, but eventually she speaks up.

“So... what's this I hear about you and Frank?"

Ugh.

---

A/N:

Emeral is... rather possessive. This is something that will be getting explored in this arc, and it's the big arc for her development due to the sheer number of new concepts introduced to her. One thing briefly mentioned in Chapter 22 is that Emeral doesn't see Carey as a person. She thought about how she's neither food nor friend, ultimately landing on 'something more than livestock.' So, a pet--and now she has another.