Dawn-Herd was pure chaos. Over 200 individual creatures, at least 95% of which were reindeer, housed in three large buildings on the outskirts of Darksoil. It had no formal leadership structure, with those most experienced in or best suited to a task being deferred to in related decision making. If a disagreement occurred as to who would be best suited to a task, then both potential leaders would lead separate groups and split the workload. This meant that Dawn-Herd would frequently fracture over tiny differences and reunite later once those differences were in the past. Nobody seemed to mind.

  Dawn-Herd was pure chaos, but it was chaos with a common purpose: Caring for their own.

  Maggie had explained her side of the story so many times that she felt like she could now recite it in her sleep if she needed to. But somehow, it wasn’t frustrating. Everyone she explained it to went on to explain it to just as many people as she had, and she was already seeing people take action without needing to spend hours agonizing over the fine details. And apparently, she was far from some random outsider bringing information that caught everyone by surprise.

  Dawn-Herd’s own Guardians had been on high alert ever since the attack on the College, and an ex-Dawn-Herd member living in the city had tipped them off that she and the other “Taken” may attempt to flee and would be in need of help and shelter. The Explorers (plus bat) hadn’t been able to guess the exact path Black-Leap and Maggie had taken in their escape, and had ended up meeting a different set of reindeer who had been watching a different exit. They, not needing any medical attention, were being accommodated in another of Dawn-Herd’s shelters.

  Song simply hadn’t left yet, and something told Maggie that she wouldn’t be doing so any time soon. She would be safe enough for the time being, but her behavior and attitude were far more concerning.

  “So, do you know what the plan is?” Maggie asked, gently tapping her message on one of Granite’s horns rather than speaking.

  “We hope to have news soon on where, exactly, Darksoil’s Guardians have retreated to,” Granite grunted, preparing for a quick dash between buildings to minimize their time in the rain. “With the weather keeping most residents indoors, their absence hasn’t been as obvious to the populace as it would be otherwise.”

  The incredibly silly sight of a bison desperately sprinting between buildings with a bird perched on its head was something Maggie wished she could have seen from a better vantage point, though she was grateful that it had been fast enough that she only needed to awkwardly shake herself three times to get the worst of the damp out of her plumage. Granite likewise stopped in the entryway, giving them both a reprieve from the noise and activity of Dawn-Herd as they talked.

  “Then… What comes next?”

  “Sly introduced me to an expression that I have grown quite fond of: ‘Hope for the best outcome, but prepare for the worst instead.’ We will remain in Darksoil for as long as it is safe to do so, but also be prepared to move on if the city becomes hostile. Most in Dawn-Herd can handle the rain well enough, but the young, sick, and elderly could suffer, and deep mud increases the risk of broken or sprained legs during travel.”

  “I see,” Maggie chirped, unable to hide the unease in her voice.

  “You, your fellow Taken, and anyone else you vouch for, will be welcome as protected guest-members of Dawn-Herd, of course. We are not beholden to a Consensus we did not participate in, and we care for our Taken the same as if they were natural-born.”

  “...Why?” The myna asked the question in English. She still hated not speaking as a human would, and forcing it upon herself for most of the day felt like scraping away at whatever shreds of her humanity still remained. Allowing herself brief expressions of one or two words was the only thing that had made it bearable. It might get easier with time, but deep down she dreaded what it would mean if it ever did. Swallowing that fear for the time being, she elaborated her question with a squirrel-ish squeak. “Why risk so much to help strangers?”

  “What, exactly, are we risking?” Granite tilted its head, forcing Maggie to step back so that the bison could side-eye her on its shoulder.

  “You don’t know who we are, first of all,” Maggie clicked. “It’d be reasonable to assume we’re mentally unstable, given the circumstances. We could be dangerous or disruptive. That’s what Darksoil’s Guardians claim.” She didn’t have room to pace as she would have liked, so the myna opted for gesturing with a wing as she continued. “Furthermore, harboring us puts you at odds with Darksoil itself, and being forced to abandon a safe shelter for your people is not a small sacrifice.”

  “I already know that the first of those concerns is not true,” Granite stamped a hoof on the ground, “You may not be the most stable, true enough, but your idiosyncrasies do not make you dangerous. Our own Taken have proven that to be true. If anything, forcing you into a desperate situation is what would make you dangerous. As for the second concern, we do not abandon those who have done nothing wrong. Even if you had not been brought here, we would still act to defend our own.”

  “Right, my friends aren’t the only ones in danger… It’s easy to forget that, sometimes.” Maggie blinked a few times, trying to rid herself of what was blatantly a selfish perspective on the situation. She couldn’t, though. Not when the only people she had the power to help were those she was closest with. Anything she could do to help anyone was ultimately self-serving. She just didn’t want to be alone. “Would I be able to meet them? The humans in your herd.”

  “I was actually taking you to see one of them right now,” Granite replied, finally moving into the shelter properly. “It is with your squirrel companion.”

  “Only one of them? Velvet mentioned that there were two.”

  “The other… wishes to remain anonymous, as far as I’m aware.” The bison dipped its head, its expressions taking on a somber tone. “I do not know who it is. The only members of the herd who do are those personally familiar with the original, and those who discovered the pair after they were Taken. It asked that it not be identified as Taken by the herd at large, and has attempted to integrate with the herd in the original’s place.”

  “Why?”

  “You would have to ask it yourself, but I suggest that you respect its privacy and do not go seeking it.”

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  “That’s… fair.” Maggie could think of a few reasons someone might want to do that, but having been witness to Chase and Quiet-Dream’s unending pile of issues, none of them were particularly happy reasons.

  The interior of the shelter was surprisingly calm, given the dozens of creatures present. Wooden dividers on wheels allowed the room layout to be altered to suit current needs without the need for manual dexterity, and right now it was set up with a large common area in the center of the building, and individual rooms cordoned off along the sides. Reindeer lounged and chatted amongst themselves on beds of layered cloth, conversations about Maggie and company being treated more like interesting gossip than something to worry about.

  Young fawns pranced about freely under the watchful eyes of Caretakers, still somewhat wobbly in the legs and not quite there yet in the self-awareness department. Maggie was not remotely educated enough to know how old they might be off-hand, but if different species matured mentally in a similar manner, they would probably be younger than Black-Leap.

  One creature in particular stood out from the crowd: a black bear with a large satchel slung over its right shoulder conversing discreetly with an older looking reindeer near one of the curtained doorways towards the back of the building. Granite made an immediate bee-line for the pair as soon as it was close enough to make out their shapes with its poorer eyesight. As the only other non-reindeer in the room, their approach was almost immediately noticed.

  “Guardian Granite!” The bear reared up and waved a massive forepaw, the sudden movement from such a large animal causing Maggie to flinch reflexively. “And our other injured guest, as well. How are you feeling?”

  “Sore,” Maggie answered, forcing herself to regain her composure. “But otherwise okay.”

  “I would offer you something to dull the pain, but the herbs we have for that do not do much if you don’t chew your food multiple times like the ruminants here. It is rather annoying, given that I am more likely to end up sore and bruised than they are most days.” When the myna simply blinked at the overly familiar bear, it groaned with embarrassment. “You do not remember us meeting, do you? You were rather delirious at the time, but I discovered that you were a… vivid conversationalist.”

  “Oh.” In her past life, Maggie had a tendency to ramble enthusiastically whenever she was on the verge of passing out, whether from alcohol, exhaustion, or a too-strong edible. Oh no. She would always say something incredibly embarrassing, without fail. Oh God no. This bear had heard her raw, unfiltered feelings about something and she had no idea what it was.

  “In that case, we should start over,” the bear grunted, deliberately looking away from the poor bird as she simultaneously puffed up and attempted to shrink away into Granite’s wool. “I am Mender Eve, the one who treated you and your companion’s injuries upon your arrival.”

  “Injuries?” Maggie’s focus snapped back to the bear, her mounting embarrassment banished by a much more chilling form of dread. “What happened? Is Black-Leap okay?”

  “According to the herd members who brought you two in, you had tackled the kit at an unsafe speed, and had taken a serious tumble across the pavement as a result. You only had some bruising and didn’t need much besides rest, but Black-Leap suffered some serious abrasions that needed cleaning.” After a beat, Eve hastily continued. “It will be fine! Do not worry.”

  Maggie was going to worry no matter what anyone said. She hadn’t just emotionally harmed the kit, she’d physically injured her as well. If she had acted quicker, or if been a better flier, or if she’d been better able to reassure her before she ran away, or if she’d actually agreed to help her search, or–

  “Can I see her?” Maggie asked in plain English, shaking her head as she tried to banish the spiral of useless what-if’s from her head. She had done what she could in the moment, and she would need to accept the consequences.

  “Of course, it is in that room with Sly, who I am sure you would also like to meet.”

  Maggie had heard that name from Granite a few times, and from the context she could now safely assume that they were the human she was initially going to meet here. She couldn’t help but wonder why they were with Black-Leap, though. Were they also injured?

  “Thanks!” She chirped and awkwardly fluttered down from Granite’s back, satisfied with the progress of only stumbling forward one step upon landing. Then, fixing her gaze on the curtain in front of her, she held her breath and walked through.

  What she found was a scene straight out of a children’s book. A scrawny reindeer fawn, seemingly another sick child, lay on a pile of straw, curled protectively around Black-Leap, the squirrel’s bushy tail draped over the fawn’s foreleg in a clear reciprocal gesture. Both of them were light sleepers, though, as the swish of the linen curtain on stone and the light ticking of Maggie’s talons roused them both, and she was met with two stares of clearly conflicted emotion.

  “Go on.” The deer snorted quietly, eliciting a nod from Black-Leap as she stood and took a step closer to the bird.

  “Black-Leap, I’m–”

  “I’m sorry, Maggie!” Black-Leap squeaked out, cutting off the myna’s own apologetic chirp. “I should have listened to you. I put us all in danger, and there was no way I would have been able to find Mother on my own.”

  “No.” The single English word drew Black-Leap out of her guilt spiral while also stunning the fawn into silence. Taking a deep breath, Maggie continued in her native tongue. She needed to say this in her own voice. “I’m not going to let you take the blame for this, kid. Was it the most thought-out plan? No. But I’m the one who drove you to it. I’m the one who refused to help you. I’m the one who hurt you trying to stop you. So, no, I don’t accept your apology, because you shouldn’t be the one apologizing. I’m sorry, Black-Leap. I let you and Quiet-Dream down.”

  “But, because of me–”

  “Because of you, we stopped hiding and actually found people who can help us. If you’d listened to me, we’d still be hiding in the library waiting for someone else to try and hurt us.”

  “That doesn’t excuse reckless disobedience.” The fawn thumped a hoof on the ground, perfectly eloquent despite not being any older than the unaware children playing outside. It was only then that Maggie properly looked around the room and realized that the three of them were the only people there. Sly, the human she’d been looking to meet, was inhabiting the body of a newborn.

  “Maybe not, but it doesn’t excuse my negligence, either. I’d say they balance each other out.” Maggie stepped forward and extended a wingtip towards the deer, offering a faux handshake between their fingerless limbs. “You’re Sly, right? I’m Maggie, reluctant bird and terrible babysitter.”

  “Yes, that’s me,” Sly nodded, adjusting their posture to be able to brush a hoof against her feathers and complete the gesture. “Sorry that I won’t stand to greet you, but I need to conserve my energy. Doctor’s orders.”

  “Are you okay?”

  “No, but I should pull through. I think.” The deer’s muzzle parted in a malformed grin, though clearly not a sincere one. He was in worse shape than he let on. “I’m just malnourished. It turns out that it’s hard for a newborn fawn to nurse properly when its instincts get overridden by a confused man who has stupid ideas about things like ‘dignity’ and ‘masculinity.’ By the time I got over myself, I’d weaned myself way too early and the damage was done. But I should recover so long as I don’t do anything to worsen my condition and make sure to eat everything put in front of me, no matter how unappetizing.”

  “That’s rough,” Maggie nodded, finding the whole experience somewhat relatable. If she hadn’t been lucky enough to be found by the natives, her own stubbornness and weird relationship with this body absolutely would have killed her. “If it’s any consolation, I’d say at least half of us have almost died from complications, stupid choices, or a combination of the two thanks to the whole ‘shove a human mind into the animal body, compatibility be damned’ thing. You’re in good company.”

  An awkward silence fell over the group as both humans realized that beyond basic introductions, neither of them had any idea what to talk about.

  “So!” Maggie flared her wings and pivoted, falling back on the reliable “be energetic to lighten the mood” gambit. With Sly in that condition, she’d have to muster enough enthusiasm for both of them. “We’ve both got about a month of horrible bullshit to catch each other up on. How about we start from the beginning?”

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