Page 10 of Finding Her (Lore of the Fields #1)

The wounds on my feet had completely healed overnight.

Even the faint scars from yesterday had disappeared entirely.

I was fascinated by this for only a moment before logging it as evidence that I was dreaming or in a coma.

I had started calculating the odds of my situation, trying to sort data into quantifiable categories.

Unconsciousness consistently had the most tangible support: weird clocks, strange creatures, rapid healing.

The only snag in my confidence with the hypothesis was my overwhelming sense of awareness and physical presence in this world.

I wasn’t sure I could weigh all data equally.

I stared in the mirror and adjusted my top, repeatedly trying to pull it down over my belly button and the pink stripes of my skin that rose above the waistband.

I looked younger today. The bags under my eyes had faded and my skin glowed healthily.

It was a miracle. As I watched myself move in the mirror, I began to calibrate to my form, becoming more than a wandering soul.

I felt like a person. A person in shorts that were too damn tight .

I walked down the stairs to a waiting Mykie.

“Huh, you’re hot,” she stated factually, placing a pair of boots by my feet. “I figured there was a female’s body hidden under Graysen’s clothing.” I assumed she meant it as a compliment, but I felt too exposed to be flattered.

“Thank you,” I mumbled awkwardly as I tugged on the boots. A little loose, but not uncomfortable. “Where are we going?”

“Do you drink?”

“I guess I do.” I was a clean slate of a woman; I figured I could do anything if it meant creating a self.

“Perfect, there’s a pub right down the street where you’ll be introduced to all different kinds of people.” She grabbed a small black backpack off a hook on the wall. “Shall we?”

Time to rally . I was finally stepping out of the house, starting my journey of exploring this strange planet. Anxiety would have to take a back seat as I figured out what magic this foreign world had to offer. I was ready for anything. Maybe.

The pebbled road stretching left from Graysen’s house turned into a modestly sized market with makeshift stalls lining either side of the street.

Crowds of people were manning the stands, buying goods, and chatting, not unlike any human community would.

It would have felt comfortably familiar if I looked anything like the locals.

Even if I was able to play off being a Pyran aesthetically, I worried they could sense that I was an imposter.

What if they asked me to produce fire as a test?

Would that be bad? Graysen heavily implied that standing out would have consequences.

I stared at a covered stall selling various fruits—none were quite identifiable to me, although many were reminiscent of what I remembered from Earth.

It was as if someone said “ what if bananas were red ” and it was so.

I wondered if they tasted the same as I stared at the bundles hanging from hooks under the tin roofing.

The shopkeeper was also an Arielna, perhaps the same blue one I had seen when first getting out of the carriage.

She was inspecting a large coin between two pinched fingers, maybe skeptical of its adequacy.

Oomph. I felt my body collide into something dense but soft.

Fluff tickled into the corners of my lips, and I used the tip of my tongue to push it out of my mouth.

Stumbling back, I caught my balance on Mykie’s chilled arm and looked up to see a large humanoid beast. It towered above me, covered head to toe with brown fur.

The hairs were long and dense in tufts on its shoulders and chest, forming a thick collar around its neck.

Large fangs hung over a thin bottom lip, and its eyes were yellow with pinpoint pupils looking down at me.

It opened its mouth with a puff of hot breath.

My heart stopped. Was this hairy beast about to take a bite out of my exposed throat?

“Excuse me,” it said with a nod and continued walking.

In shock—and feeling some embarrassment over once again being disgruntled by another sentient being’s mere existence—I forced my eyes ahead and continued walking in silence until we were out of earshot. “Mykie,” I whispered as quietly as I could. “What was that man?”

“The person you ran into?” She snorted out a laugh at my expense, not bothering to match my hushed tone.

“Right,” I conceded begrudgingly.

“That, my friend, was a Lychan. And it was a female.” She flashed a grin at someone who waved at her from a distance.

“Lychans are real here?” My earthly monster education must have covered that one, since the name was familiar.

I’d expected more of a long canine maw than a somewhat human face.

That said, I had no reason to assume my planet’s folklore applied here.

The other two species I met were completely foreign to any legend I was familiar with.

This had fascinating implications for what—who—else I might be encountering as I immersed myself into Trebianna.

“Very real, and very proud, so be more careful when labeling them with a gender.” She nodded at another Lychan as we passed them.

I averted my eyes from the Lychan’s stare. “How do I know what gender they are?” I asked when this one was at a safe distance. “They’re covered in clothing and fur. There aren’t any hints.”

Genuine amusement washed away her sharp edges. “I don’t recommend looking between their hips if that’s what you mean by ‘hints ’. That is, unless you want to get bought a few drinks and taken home by one.” She chuckled. “Females have smaller ears and hands and generally have darker fur than males.”

“How can I compare them if I’ve never seen a male?”

“Stay gender neutral, babe.”

My eyes traveled up to the cool purple sky, where two large planets sat—one purple and one green—peering between the clouds. “Is it daytime?”

Her chin tilted up. “The two stars are in the sky,” she said bluntly, as if that answer made it obvious. After seeing my confused expression remain she elaborated, “Yes, it’s daytime.”

“Why isn’t the Lychan a man then?”

“Because it’s a female.” Her tone became sharper, as if she thought I was being purposely dense.

“No, like a human. Human by day, wolf by night.” That was the thing about Lychan, right? The term was basically synonymous with Werewolf.

“I don’t know what a wolf is, but they are never human .” She opened the swinging door of a gray concrete building with a sign reading “ Theo Octavian’s Pub ”. The delicate chime of a bell announced our entry.

“Aye, darlin’,” a Thornian in the closest booth to the door greeted us when we walked in. “Who’s the female?” He pointed his long talon at me.

I remembered this species based on its inherently predatory features.

As with the one I had seen yesterday, he had human skin and dragon-like brown horns decorating his face and body, the largest of which were located on either cheekbone, angling back towards his tussled orange hair.

The small spikes that covered his forearms were shaped like crocodilian osteoderms. He had the same ridged talons and sharp teeth that I’d seen before.

I noted that as a consistent feature across the species.

I had never seen a being more capable of devouring my flesh.

“This is Faeryn,” Mykie stated. “Faeryn, this is Lorne. He’s a regular here.”

“Hi there.” I smiled, reminding myself to look at his eyes and not his unfamiliar, somewhat terrifying, biological enhancements.

I was grateful when we didn’t stop to chat, instead heading straight to the U-shaped bar ahead.

Mykie veered to the left side, notably sparing me from having my back to the door.

At this angle, I could turn my head right to watch patrons as they flooded in.

It was an ideal vantage point for my people-watching goals. Plus, I felt more comfortable.

“What’ll it be?” A man with four muscular arms approached us from behind the bar.

The extra limbs branching from his back were so distracting, I barely noticed the small, dark horns on his forehead.

I was getting used to seeing horns. I had to tilt my chin to an uncomfortable angle to make eye contact as he towered over us from across the bar.

This man was huge . He tilted his head to the side to reveal large ropes of muscle flexing around his tattooed neck.

His beige skin looked rather human, decorated with elaborate inky designs twisting across his arms and chest like black dye spreading through water.

The brown hair on his head was buzzed, revealing a long white scar running several inches back from the top of his ear.

“Give us two Droolers, Theo,” Mykie said, seating herself and leaning into me.

“He’s a Quadmos. They’re the strongest species on Trebianna.

Also not bad looking .” She whispered up until the last line, at which point she seemed to purposely raise her voice, biting her tongue playfully in the man’s direction.

He wiggled his hips at her in response while wiping down a glass with his top arms, his stoic expression unchanging.

I cracked a smile at his playfulness. She certainly wasn’t wrong; he was attractive in a rugged and imposing way.

The rough edges didn’t match the little dance he’d given her.