Ibrahim in Felarya

So. Yeah. I decided to do it better and suck less.

~

Title: Into A New World
Continuity: Ibrahim in Felarya
Pairing: None
Tags: soft vore, giantess, religious characters
Synopsis: Ibrahim Saunders finds himself tumbling into a very different world than the one he is familiar with: one seemingly without other human beings, his only companion a gigantic half-serpentine woman who seems bent on making a snack out of him!

Note: This is probably the billionth time I’ve rewritten this story; I feel like writing it episodically would help me be more spontaneous and actually produce a more elaborate story than just writing a single, massive work all at once. Keeps things fresh, right?

So the subtitle for this beginning is both relevant to the story— Ibrahim does in fact fall into a new world— and to the actual exercise of writing this thing. While there are quite a few similarities to previous drafts of this story, people who’ve read those will find this to be a bit different, and that the story will only get more so as me move along.

Enjoy!

Felarya and Crisis the naga are property of Karbo and are used with permission.


Ibrahim Saunders woke to the realization that he was probably not in New Jersey anymore.

The world was a blur of color and light as he opened his eyes, a world that slowly brought itself back into focus. None of his surroundings were familiar, he thought as the haze over his eyes lifted. What were previously only patches of colors slowly regained their shapes. Everything was both too dark and too vivid. Alien shades of red, orange and yellow startled his eyes and made him squint to filter their reflected light; the shadows between trees seemed to plunge into absolute darkness as they receded to an unseen horizon.

The sounds breaking the still, humid air were stranger still, unlike any he knew back home. The loud buzz of insects and the cries of unknown birds were suited more to a tropical jungle than the temperate swamp of the Pine Barrens.

Where was he? He tried to sit up, only to groan and roll onto his back. Every part of him seemed to ache. As it should! he told himself, annoyed. The near-collision with an out-of-control semi only moments before sent him swerving across the road. He could remember the groan of metal and explosion of glass as his car rolled, the violent overturn of his car throwing him from his seat.

He was alive, though his car, as well as the road, were nowhere in sight. He sighed, trying just to focus on feeling out his limbs, moving everything little by little. Alhamdulillah, he thought to himself as he stared up into the distant, leafy canopy. Now how about you tell me where I am, exactly.

He gave sitting up another try, succeeding this time. He bit his lip, trying to focus on that sensation instead of the dull ache that prevailed through the rest of his body. The pain felt consistent everywhere at least, so it didn’t seem as though anything were broken.

With that settled, his mind turned to the sights and sounds around him, taking stock now that his eyes were fully in focus. It really was a jungle, as far as he could tell. It certainly wasn't anywhere in New Jersey that he knew of, and the only jungle he could think of in his home country were things that he once read about Florida, or Hawai’i. Most of that was gone, as far as he could remember, and it surely couldn't look like this. everything seemed enormous; tree roots as thick as his torso, the trunks rising from the ground easily the size of a house. Flowers big as his torso hung on vines like decorations dangling from the cables of some strange suspension bridge.

This place was wild, he realized, beyond anything he could imagine. None of it answered the question of how he arrived here, or who— or what— left him.

He took a deep breath and slowly turned in place, raising his hands to his mouth. “Hello?” he called out. “Is anyone out there?”

The minutes of silence that followed made his heart sink. He called out louder while he walked out in a spiral from the spot where he woke. “My name’s Ibrahim! I’ve been in a wreck; if you can hear me, shout back!”

Once more, he heard nothing but the background noise of the jungle. He kicked at the dirt and cried out into space, arms thrown out to either side of him. “Is anyone out there?” His frustration built; he dropped down and scooped a stone up in his hand, tossing it against the trunk of a nearby tree. “Anyone? Please, is anyone out there?”

He heard the rustle of moving grass and turned a half-circle, eyes open wide in excitement. Someone was coming! he thought, his hope surging back. Wherever he was, there were people here, and they’d surely help him. “Over here!” he called out, moving as quickly as his still-sore body would allow. “I’m right he—”

The air was knocked out of him before he could finish, his feet dragging through the dirt before lifting off the ground, following the rest of him upwards. The world became a blur once more as he was pulled upwards, the jungle floor dropping out into the distance below.

The movement stopped as quickly as it began. He dropped a short distance, the fall threating to steal his breath again, before something caught the back of his shirt and dangled him far above solid ground. It was only then that he could steady his head enough to look up. To his horror, what held him up by his shirt were two massive fingers. These fingers were attached to a hand, the hand to an arm, and that arm stretched across the distance in front of him towards its owner.

She stood as tall as the trees around her, the woman having to duck her head around branches that stuck out at her. Bright blue eyes stood out in the shadows, as did the waterfall of blond hair that fell around her head. His eyes followed downwards, cheeks blushing at her naked body, until the sight of a massive tail of blue and green scales plunging down from her hips in the place of legs made him gasp. “What the…” he said, breathless. “What the hell are you?”

The woman smiled and pulled him closer. “I’m Crisis,” she said, voice cheerful in oblivious contrast to his own terror. “I’m a naga. And you’re my lunch!”

He could do nothing but scream at her response; the creature lifted him higher, tipping her head back. Her mouth opened wide just below him, sunlight pouring in through the trees of light the interior of that strange, red cavern. Everything looked slick and wet, light catching on that wet film as though it were sparkling on the surface of a pleasant lake. Pearl white teeth seemed ready to crush him, or slam shut behind him, an impenetrable wall sealing his fate.

This was it? The horror of it twisted his gut into knots. After everything, after watching the whole world slowly fall apart around him, this was his reward? To be devoured by a woman, by this unreal creature standing as tall as the trees around her?

Escaping her grip was surely fatal; even if he missed dropping himself into her mouth, he’d smash into some other part of her body, breaking his neck, or some or all of his limbs. Or, he’d simply fall the hundred feet or more to the ground, the sudden impact surely bringing with it immediate, painful death. Even if he survived that, his broken body would leave him unable to escape her clutches again. Hot breath blew up at him, an unnecessary reminder of his impending doom.

Oh Allah, he said, and forced his eyes to close out the nightmare in front of him as his prayer spilled from his mouth. To offer prayer seemed absurd, a pointless response to his current reality. What choice did he have, though, he thought. There’s nothing else I can do. I am about to die a horrible, agonizing death. Oh, Lord of All the Worlds, have mercy on me, console me, elevate me, guide me, grant me well-being and provide for me…

The rhythm of the prayer, the spoken Arabic of another age first spoken by people ages ago somewhere very far from here, compete with his racing heart to time the moments leading up to his impending death. He repeated them, the words coming faster each time he started over. Grant me well-being and provide for me, but please, just end this now!

He waited for it— to be mashed to a pulp between her teeth, his consciousness crushed into darkness, or to feel his body, miniscule compared to her, simply slipping past her tongue into the dark abyss of her throat. Neither came, though, as far as he could trust his senses to tell him.

Am I alive? He was too frightened to open his eyes, scared that the sight was too horrifying to see. Am I dead? What’s happening?

“Hey!”

His eyes snapped open at the sound of a voice, blinded for a moment in the bright sunlight. He squinted, trying to filter out the sun enough for his sight to come back into focus again. He still dangled from the strange woman’s fingers, it appeared, thought she once more held him away from her face. “Hello? Can you hear me?” she said.

It was all too much for him; just as the world came back into focus, it spun back out into darkness as he shut down from the shock of it all.

At least I’m alive… he thought again as he passed out.


His eyes opened, and he remembered running.

There was shouting, the flash of a bright light and the acrid smell of smoke invading his lungs. Where had it come from? He had no idea. All that he knew was that the building, the beautiful blue and white building the entire neighborhood had come together to build, to transform, was burning. That people were screaming. And that no one knew where the deadly burst of fire came from.

He coughed and struggled to keep his head low; a friend threw him a wet washcloth which he quickly covered his mouth and nose with. His hands reached for others, pushing, pulling anyone he could get to in the thick haze. The fire rendered them all into shadows; he feared that the others, his fellow Muslims, would simply melt away into the smoke and slip between his fingers. So many friends, so many people he nervously stood in front of the day he proclaimed his faith in front of all of them. He wondered where the old man was, the imam, his teacher. So lost in his thoughts and the smoke, it took the old man’s voice to keep Ibrahim from walking right into him.

“Stop hesitating!” the old man called to him, reaching out to grab Ibrahim by his arm. His arms were thinner, bonier under his loose sleeves, but it seemingly took little effort at all to pull Ibrahim through the door. “Get outside! You’ve helped enough!”

He joined the crowd spilling out onto the street. A siren wailed through the corridor of tightly packed buildings lining the narrow street, growing closer as people hurried to help each other out of the fire’s reach. The question seemed to rumble, seemed to come and go amidst the slap of sloes against concrete and asphalt, the coughing and crying, the shouts of names of friends, family, loved ones, and the shatter of glass bursting out of the windows from the heat. Arms locked around his just as his legs started to buckle, dragging him down into the street full of parked cards and people.

The man next to him shouted his name; he couldn’t force himself to look up, his head still too clouded with smoke. The noise and heat proved too much; he slipped out of their arms and crumpled to the sidewalk. The asphalt felt cool, strange given the summer afternoon, but he didn’t care. It was cool compared to the fire blazing at his back.

There was a rush of noise, of something cracking, crumbling, breaking apart. He lifted up his head, expecting to feel dust and burning ash at his back, and instead found the grounding crumbling away beneath him. Trees pushed up all around him, the ground caving away as Crisis’ open maw stretched open below.

He screamed, scrambling for a hand, a handhold of the ground, but there was nothing he could reach and no one around. The giantess’ teeth gleamed in the sunlight, the open pit at the back of her throat stretching wide to catch him.

He simply stared, at a loss for even fright, as he slammed into the thick, red mass of her tongue, tumbling over himself as her teeth closed the collapsing world outside off from him. His hands slipped over that warm surface, trying to catch on something, anything, until it was too late. His own weight carried him over the edge, into another abyss, surrounding by the dark once again.


When he finally came back to consciousness, he felt warmth at his back, his hands laying against a soft surface. He sat up and gasped as the strange woman once again filled his view; they were moving now, with her holding him on her open palm.

She looked down, smiling. “Oh, good, you’re awake…” she said. “Please, try not to pass out again? I don’t think I’ve ever seen a human who panics so much…”

Why shouldn’t I feel panicked? he thought, incredulous at how casually she dismissed the terror he felt. You only tried to eat me, after all! ”Well, you’ll have to excuse me,” he said, not trying at all to conceal how angry he sounded. “I’ll try to be calmer the next time you go to eat me.

“Oh, good!” She smiled broadly, then blinked, her eyelashes blowing a brief gust of air at him. “That was sarcasm, wasn’t it?”

“Yes, it was.”

“Right,” she said, her empty hand held behind her head. “Sorry, I’m still trying to get the hang of that.”

With a sigh, he turned his back to her and turned his attention instead to his environment. Here, the same as where he’d first awoke, the jungle seemed to go on as far as the eye could see. Which, he admitted, wasn’t very far: the trees formed a backdrop around them, the giant carrying him constantly having to shift her path one way or another to keep from running into one.

He checked his pockets for his phone, his wallet, anything, and turned up nothing. Aside from the clothes on his back, he possessed nothing material to connect him back home. Wherever that even was, now. Worse, the trees moving past them seemed to sway in the light breeze that blew around them, which did little to help how dizzying it felt to be held up so high off the ground.

“Really, I’m just glad you can hear me…”

He looked back over his shoulder; his host seemed to be speaking to him. “It’d be a bit hard not to,” he said.

“I guess. I was worried you might be deaf, or something like that. Of course, I suppose if you couldn’t hear, you wouldn’t be able to sing so well.”

Sing? He tried to focus on anything other than the environment moving all around him, and decided to focus on her hand. “I’m sorry, I don’t understand what you mean. I wasn’t singing.”

“Sorry… that’s just what it sounded like to me,” she said, biting her lip, her eyes sparkling at him as her thoughts drifted off for a moment. “I guess it was more of a chant. Either way, I don’t think I’ve heard anything like it here, before.”

Chant? He muddled back through what he could remember of what happened since he arrived here, and realized she was referring to his frantic prayers when she nearly ate him. “That’s… not quite what that way. I wasn’t a song; it was a prayer.”

“A prayer?” She paused, then smiled, eyes opening wide as she nodded. “Oh! So you’re a priest. Or a monk. Or something like that.”

“That’s not quite…”

She pulled him up suddenly close to her face, looking him over from every angle. He dodged out of the way of her finger trying to prod at him, ever-mindful of how close he was to the edge of her palm. “I wonder which one…” she said to herself, voice trailing off with her thoughts. “You don’t seem to be wearing any charms or anything like that… the Othimites wear these silly robes, so you can’t be one of them, and Kallista’s followers…” She laughed a little, eyes turned up to the sky as a blush came over her cheeks. “Well, they don’t really wear much of anything.”

Ibrahim threw his hands down onto her palm, trying to steady himself, to look at something, anything, that wasn’t moving around. His stomach lurched; he bit his lip to keep from losing what little was in him. “Please, stop that!” he shouted between gasps for air. “I’m not a… look, I’ll explain myself some if you’ll just stop moving around like that!” He slowly looked back up at her. “I feel like I’m going to be sick…”

She stopped, mouth turned down in concern as she held him away from her face again. “Sorry. I didn’t really think about that.”

“I can see that,” he said, groaning. He sat with knees drawn up to his chest, arms wrapped around himself as he tried to will his senses to stop spinning around. Slowly, everything came to rest, his heart and breathing both returning to a steadier pace. “My name’s Ibrahim, though you can call me Abe, if that’s easier.”

She nodded. “And I’m Crisis. I think I might have said that before, though I don’t know if you heard it. You were screaming then, I think.”

“Yeah, I was.” He managed a feeble smile as he tried his best not to remember the sight of her open mouth. “Salaam ‘alaykum, Crisis. It’s nice to meet you. I think.”

“Sal… salim…” The giant tried to wrap her lips around the words, face contorting itself in puzzlement. “Sa-lamb… what did you say?”

He couldn’t help but laugh. As terrifying as he had been of her, there was something child-like about the woman, something wide-eyed and curious that seemed to calm his nerves. “It means, ‘peace be upon you’. It’s a way to greet someone, as well as a way to wish them well when you part ways.”

“Oh,” she said, holding her empty hand, its fingers curled in on themselves, to her mouth. She then thrust that hand out towards him, a single finger extended towards him. “Well, the same to you, as well!”

He stood, carefully finding his balance on the shallow curve of her palm, and took her finger in his hands to shake it. Moving it at all took a great effort; that he could move it at all was probably owed more to the fact that she allowed it to move, and not to any strength of his own. “All of this seems completely unreal,” he thought aloud, shaking his head as her hand retreated.

“You’re not from here.” Crisis nodded, absently looking back over her shoulder. “Well… that makes sense. You did seem really confused when I found you.”

“To be honest? I’m not even really sure where ‘here’ is.” He looked around, the jungle still denying him any sense of his bearings. “Can we stop some place for a little while? I’d like to stand on solid ground for a bit. No offense, but being carried in someone’s hand is still a bit much for me to deal with right now.”

“No problem. We’ve been traveling a while anyway, and I haven’t really eaten much…” Ibrahim tried not to think about what the giant had managed to eat, pushing the thought of her open mouth from the forefront of his mind. “You’re probably a bit hungry too, actually. You were out for a while…”

His stomach seemed to growl on cue— now that he wasn’t being tossed or dangled around, the realization that he hadn’t had anything to eat in nearly a day, at least, hit him hard. He nodded, and Crisis started to move again. “I just have to find a place to settle down at…”


There were, of course, difficulties that came with a giant naga trying to recline in a dense jungle, Ibrahim quickly realized. For one, there simply wasn’t much empty space for so large a creature to stretch out. Crisis’ tail weaved around several trees before she finally came to a rest, encircling Ibrahim with the length of her body as she set him down on the ground.

“Those are edible for humans,” Crisis said, pointing out a bush full of berries just in front of them. “I think. I’m pretty sure I’ve seen Lea eating them before.”

“You’re pretty sure?” He looked back and forth between her and the bush, trying not to ponder the possible bad reactions he could have to eating the fruit. Crisis only shrugged, and he knelt down, pulling a handful from the bush. They smelt sweet enough, he thought as he brought a handful to his face. Summoning a bit of courage, he shoved the handful in his mouth, smiling a bit at the sweet juice they gave him.

“They’re good,” he said, turning back to face Crisis after swallowing his food. Still, he thought, I should probably wait to see if they’ll disagree with me, before having more.

His attention turned to his host, laying a short distance away on her belly, chin resting on top of her stacked hands. She looked human enough, her face soft, rounded; her mouth curled up in a smile that seemed to be a regular part of appearance, from what he’d seen of her so far. She wore no clothes, or any ornaments aside from the simple bag slung over her shoulder. What it contained, he could only guess at.

Her tail though, as well as her enormous size, made it clear that she was a very different creature from himself. It was absolutely unreal, the stuff of fantasy and comic books. And yet, there she was, laying just a few feet away from him, her shadow casting its shade over himself.

“So, where are you from?” she asked, leanings towards him more than she already was. “What’s it like there?”

He blinked, caught off-guard by the excitement in her voice. “You’re very curious, you know?”

“I’ve been told that. What can I say? I like to hear about other places, other worlds.” Crisis sighed, chest expanding like some great balloon as she closed her eyes. “I can’t really see those places myself, so I like to learn about them from people that end up here.”

Other worlds? Ibrahim thought, confused. That couldn’t possibly mean what it sounded like it did. “Why not? What’s really stopping you from traveling?” he said, trying to change the subject.

“Well… there are only two portals out of Felarya, and both of those are protected. I don’t think I’d want to get too close to either of them!” She laughed a little, the ground shuddering slightly as the sound rattled through her. “Besides… I’m not sure how I’d survive away from here. The forests here are the only home I’ve ever known. Where would I find food?”

He stared up at her and blinked. Portals? ”You almost make it sound like we’re on a completely different world. That can’t… I was just in my car, I was driving, and then… I mean, that would be ridiculous! Something out of a TV show, or a comic, or… or…”

The blank stare that Crisis offered did little to calm him. He could have really traveled to another world. Could he? “I mean… I’m on Earth, right? I was in New Jersey, I was driving in my car, and then I ended up here. Somewhere else on Earth.”

“No,” Crisis said, looking confused herself. “You’re in Felarya.”

“But that’s just some… some place, somewhere, on Earth,” Ibrahim said, barely able to contain his worries, “and no one I’ve met has ever heard of it.”

“I’ve heard of people from Earth, other humans who’ve come here, or ended up here by accident. But this is another world. This is Felarya; my home.”

Ibrahim struggle to find words. Another world! It just seemed impossible. There couldn’t possibly be a planet or moon like this in the solar system, which meant that Felarya, whatever and wherever it was, was surely more distant than anything he could imagine. “But that… that can’t…” he sputtered, breath choking in his throat. “I can’t just… just end up going from one planet to another, that’s not… it’s not…”

He fell on his side, Crisis sliding closer to him as he curled into a ball. “Are you going to be…”

“No!” he shouted. He regretted it; so far as he knew, she wasn’t to blame for his landing here. He wanted to be angry, and needed something to be angry at. He wanted something to point at, something to express his anger to, something to throw the horror of not knowing where he was at so that he didn’t have to carry it around with him any further. “No, I’m not okay! I’m not okay.”

He shoved himself to his feet, walking aimlessly around the massive roots sunk into the ground around him. “…I need water.”


He breathed out, sitting up as the last words of his prayer fell silent in the woods. He could still feel the cool dew he’d found in the leaves sticking to his hair, to his face, to his hands. The temperature was as soothing to his body as his salah was to his heart; he was still frightened, but the burden felt lighter. I’m not alone, here, he told himself. Allah is surely with me, even on another world.

“…insha’Allah,” he whispered, finishing his thought aloud.

“Huh?”

He jumped, rolling around his hips to see Crisis sitting behind him, tail curling out alongside her as she sat leaning against a tree. “I didn’t realize you’d followed me.”

“I thought I should. You should be careful, there’s a bunch of dangerous things out here.” Her eyes brightened, pointing into thin air. “Well, once, I saw this group of treasure hunters running from a harpy, and they didn’t see where they were going, and they fell into a giant pitcher! They thought they were safe, and started drinking the water inside, but then it started to realize that…”

“Crisis, please!” He cringed, trying to push thoughts of the possible fates those explorers might have suffered aside. Was there anything in this world that didn’t eat people alive? “I’m sure I don’t want to know what happened!”

“Oh. Sorry.”

Silence fell between them; he wasn’t sure what to say that he hadn’t already said. He knew where he was without knowing a single thing about where he was. Everything looked unfamiliar and, from the things Crisis kept suggesting about their environment, dangerous as well. He couldn’t tell what was safe to eat and what might, in one way or another, kill him.

“Was that one of your prayers?”

He looked back at Crisis. “What you were doing just a moment ago. Was that one of your prayers? It sounded like what you were chanting earlier.”

“It was.” He sat cross-legged, drumming his fingers on his knees as he tried to think. He certainly never expected to find himself explaining his religion to alien creature the size of a ten-story building, and he quickly found his mind at a loss for explanations. “It’s… ah. Well. People like myself, we pray throughout the day, a few moments every so often, five times a day. This was one of those prayers. Those are prayers I’m obligated to say.” He watched her try her mouth around the word ‘obligated’ and sighed, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. “I’m required to pray them, as long as I’m able to do so.”

“Required? By who?”

He blinked. “Well, by God.”

He gestured for her to lean down closer, the naga’s shadow falling over him as she brought her head down closer. A few strands of her hair fell against his back, heavy but cool with sweat. He moved to brush them aside, surprised when it took something of an effort to move the massive strands off of him.

He pressed a finger into the soil, the dirt giving easily as he dragged the digit through it, drawing lines. “La ilaha…” he repeated as he wrote, the giant naga leaning over him watching curiously, “…ilah Allah. There is nothing worthy of our worship but Almighty God.” He sat back up, breathing deeply as he repeated the words to himself in silence. “This is… the very center of what I believe, the anchor to my faith. The idea that I was created is worth being grateful for, and my prayers are an expression of that gratitude.”

He was surprised as she sat there in silence, pondering the script written into the ground. Thus far, she’d been quick to ask questions, quick to respond to the things he said. “My teacher would often say that, in a way… it also meant that there was nothing in existence that wasn’t Almighty God. That everything is part of the Almighty, and that everything flows back to that source.”

He looked up, feeling the breeze off her eyelids as she blinked. “That doesn’t make sense,” she said. “I mean, there are lots of things that aren’t a god, or part of a god.”

“Well, yes, you could look at it like that.” He stood up, sweeping dust back over the words he’d written, burying them back in the damp soil. He started to walk forwards, gesturing out at the woods that surrounded them. “At the same time, though… we can look at it with the perspective that God sustains creation, at every moment, everything around us being created and destroyed in every instance, as easily as you and I breathe in and out. That we are constantly being recreated, regardless of any poor decisions we make, is an act of unending mercy, and a chance to start over.”

He laughed a little at the blank stare she gave him, the look on her massive face as puzzled as his had been when his teacher had spoken those same words to him. “Now you know how I felt earlier.”

Crisis snapped out of her daze at that and snapped her fingers. “That reminds me!” she said, scooping Ibrahim up off the ground, knocking him to his back as she rose back up to her full height. “We should have a good view of the woods from a little further ahead. I’ll be able to show you where we are, and where we’re going.”

“Where we’re going?” he asked.

Crisis smiled down at him before taking off, weaving through the trees ahead of them. “You’ll see.”


The woods flew by around them; Ibrahim didn’t bother to sit up, for fear of losing what little he’d managed to eat earlier. “Crisis!” he shouted, griping her palm tightly. “Where are we going?!”

The giant said nothing, the trees rushing by with ever-increasing speed. They seemed to be growing shorter, the woods thinning out, allowing the light in around them. He flinched, stunned at the brightness of the sun after spending so long under the canopy. The wash of light clouded his vision, made to hard to see anything beyond the glare. “Crisis, please, where are we…”

His vision cleared, and his breath escaped him.

The jungle stretched out beneath them, a great blanket of green treetops stretching out to the horizon, and surely beyond it. And in the distance, what seemed like many days journey out ahead of them, a single tree that rose taller than any mountain he’d seen or head of, its top soaring so high that clouds drifted past its highest branches. Great, winged figures circled around it, so tiny in the distance; Ibrahim shuddered to think, though, that to be seen from so far off, they were surely many times taller than himself— easily as tall as Crisis stood.

He slowly pulled himself up onto his knees, the wind blowing at his hair as he looked over the brilliantly colored landscape. The leaves almost seemed to sparkle beneath them, as though they were a great sea of emeralds laid out below them. “What is this place?” he said, voice hushed in awe.

Crisis smiled and held her hand out over the ledge they stood on, Ibrahim gripping her finger as she held him out over the panorama. “This is my home,” she said. “This is Felarya.”

It was unlike anything he’d ever seen in his life. No forest back home was this beautiful, or this massive, the jungle easily stretching over as much ground as the state he’d grown up in, and probably much more. There was no sign of a city, of another human being, for as far as the eye could see. The reality of it was inescapable: he truly was in a very new world.

“I guess it’ll be my home for now, too…” he said, wondering just what the future would hold. One way or another, he would find a way to survive.

Insha’Allah, he whispered, and hoped.

Title: An Atom’s Weight
Continuity: Ibrahim in Felarya
Pairing: None
Tags: soft vore, giantess, religious characters
Synopsis: Ibrahim continues his journey with Crisis, the naga, while grappling with the reality of her diet. All the while, another predator waits for them both in the shadows.

Note: It took me a little while to work on this, though alternately it’s taken me much less time to write this than it did my original draft of Ibrahim in Felarya. To those familiar with the original draft, this encompasses much of the plot from the last half of that story, with additional details thrown in. Although, from here out, things will start to go in different directions.

You’ll see what I mean, soon enough.

“The Prophet, peace and blessings of God be upon him, told the people this:
‘You shall not enter Paradise until you believe, and you will not believe until you love one another. Shall I not guide you to a thing, which when it is done, will make you love one another? Spread the greeting of ‘Peace!’ amongst you.’”

A Hadith of the Prophet Muhammad (s.a.w.s.)

Ibrahim’s face touched the damp soil as the call of birds echoed through the jungle. There was life here, more than any other place he’d known or heard of. He could even feel it in the ground, though he wasn’t sure how.

He inhaled; he breathed in thousands of unknown scents, then breathed out the words of his prayer.

Subhanna rabbi al-‘ala, Subhanna rabbi al-‘ala…

Glory to my Lord, the Exalted.

He sighed and lifted his head, sitting up from prostration. He was still in prayer, whispering the words, but his mind was elsewhere. It was on the overwhelming scale of the trees, the natural and yet utterly unnatural sounds and colors of this wilderness. He was hardly able to sleep through the night, wondering what was out there, until his worries kept him from trying any longer and forced him to rise for his morning prayers.

He finished and fell back, laying out in the grass and dirt. On top of it all, he thought, there was the matter of his traveling companion.

Crisis was still sound asleep, the giant naga’s breath periodically ruffling his hair. She seemed so peaceful, strands of her bright blond hair hanging over her face. He was almost tempted to approach her and brush the cable-like hairs off of her lips and cheek.

Then he remembered the last time he was that close to her mouth, and instead pushed away from her.

His stomach growled in complaint, and he frowned. He needed to eat, yet he had no idea what was safe, or even edible. His life was entirely in Crisis’ hands, as much as it had been when he first arrived in Felarya as he dangled from her fingertips.

“How long is she going to sleep, anyway?” he said with a groan.




When Crisis finally did wake up, she was all smiles. She assured Ibrahim that she would be back after finding them both breakfast. He made her promise to eat out of sight from him. If she could so casually think of him as a potential meal, he didn’t want to ponder what her idea of breakfast was.

She wasn’t gone for long, although time was difficult to judge in the thick of the jungle with a watch or phone, or a view of the sun through the dense canopy. The naga offered him a leaf covered in fruit and berries, as vividly colored as the flowering growing on the vines that hung over them. The skin of each glistened in the morning light, each berry still covered in dew.

“I know you’ll want meat eventually, and I did see some tomthumbs,” she added and settled down across from him. “I didn’t think you’d want those, though.”

“What are they?”

“They’re… sort of like humans. Just much smaller.” She pinched two fingertips together in a rough approximation of scale. “As big as you are to me.”

He cringed. “No, you’re right. I’d really rather not have any.”

“Suit yourself. I’ve heard they’re delicious, though.”

She shrugged, breasts dragging over the grass as she lay on her belly. Ibrahim shook his head, trying to keep his eyes on hers, and not strare at the rest of her naked body laying out in front of him. “Is that normal here? To eat living… well, people?” He knew nothing of the creatures she mentioned, tomthumbs, beyond their minuscule size. If they were anything like humans, though… The thought of something, someone, simply plucking them from the ground and eating them made him ill. How could you eat a living, thinking creature without a second thought?

“Of course it is,” Crisis said.

“Don’t you care? They could have friends, families.”

“They do. But that’s how it is. Everyone understands that.”

Ibrahim frowned. He didn’t understand it! “How is that just?”

She blinked. “Just what?”

He groaned, laying his forehead against the palm of one hand. How in the world did you explain morality to an alien? “It’s… it’s the idea of doing what’s fair to both sides of a problem. It’s trying to understand how the other person things and feels, and making a decision from that.”

Her lips slid over themselves, Crisis’ eyes glazed over as she sunk into thought. “But they’re my food. Do you ask your food what it thinks and feels?”

“My food,” Ibrahim said, “isn’t alive and begging for its life when I eat it!”

She stuck her tongue out at him, face souring in disgust. Ibrahim looked down at his feet, chilled by even the brief glimpse of her open mouth. It filled enough of his fears as it was. “That sounds gross,” she said.

“Not like… ugh!” He jumped up, throwing his arms out in frustration.

“This must be very confusing for you,” Crisis say, her eyes following Ibrahim around the clearing.

“It’s not confusing. It’s just… horrible. Inhumane.”

“Well,” she said, “I’m not human.”

He shook his head. “You look human. Almost.”

“But I’m not. I’m a naga. We’re different… my kind eats your kind. That’s how it is.”

“Then, okay,” he said, frustrated, and pointed at himself. “I’m a person.” He pointed at her. “You’re a person. You eat people. How can you possibly think that’s fair?”

The giant shrugged her shoulders, to which he could only curse in frustration. “I don’t make the rules,” she said. “I just… well, I just live.”

“Alright then. Are you still wanting to eat me?” He dropped his hands back to his sides, palms clapping against his jeans. “After all, I was certainly on your menu yesterday.”

She blinked. “Are you offering? I don’t think anyone’s asked me to eat them before.”

“No, I’m not offering!”

He started walking, not sure what direction he was going or what lay ahead of him. The thought of staying with Crisis, though, gave him chills. She was a predator, a monster, and he would rather take his chances than stay in the company of someone who still thought of him as a potential snack.

He could feel Crisis watching him— her gaze was inescapable. “Where are you going?” she asked, sounding more curious than concerned.

“Somewhere! Anywhere, I don’t know.”

“You’re going to get lost.”

“I’m on an alien world!” He spun around, shaking, his voice echoing through the trees. “I’m already pretty damned lost!”

Crisis nodded; she at least conceded that point, Ibrahim thought. “You’ll be eaten out there. Someone, or something, will catch you.”

“What do you care? Either you’ll eat me, or something else will.”

“I like talking to you, though.” At this, the thought that something else might consume him, she seemed more genuinely concerned. Did she really enjoy his company that much, he wondered? She’d made it sound, thus far, that she’d met- and for that matter, surely eaten- any number of humans before she ran into him.

And yet… he was alone here, with absolutely no grasp on how to survive. He didn’t know what he could eat, or where to find water. He didn’t even know if there was anything he could hunt or where he could sleep unmolested by whatever lurked out of sight. Crisis was the only creature in this whole world he could have a conversation with, the only person he knew in this world.

He cursed under his breath and started to walk back towards her.

“Alright,” he said, brushing sweat-soaked hair out of his eyes. “Alright. I’ll stay with you. I don’t want to imagine what else could be waiting out there for me.”

The worry melted away immediately from Crisis’ face. Her hand reached out towards him as she sat up; he recoiled, starting to step away from it at first. Her fingers stayed stretched out, though, the massive hand simply patting him gentle on the head.

“You’ll be glad you did!” she said, a wide smile on her face.

“Just promise,” Ibrahim said, trying to breathe slowly, calmly. “You won’t try and eat me.”

The naga pouted; he wagged a finger at her and tried to look as stern as he could manage in front of a woman whose fingers were each as tall as he was. “None of that! Either you promise me you won’t eat me, or I take my chances in the woods!”

Crisis sighed. “I guess when you put it like that…”

She laid her hand palm-up for him to climb onto. I really just said that, didn’t I? It was the only way, though, he could think to appeal to her. The only thing Crisis appeared to listen to with much attention was her stomach. It was as though the giant were little more than a child— her world was filled with little else beside reward and denial.

It was something, at least.

He let her carry him upward again, just as she carried him the day before. “So,” he said, looking up at the soft features of her face. “Where are we going?”



Home, Crisis told him as they journeyed onward through the woods. Which, as she explained, was the massive tree towering over much of the jungle. “It’s been my home for a pretty long time. Lots of people like me live there.”

“Other nagas?” The thought gave him a chill, despite the muggy air. The last place he wanted to stay was in the middle of a whole community of giants that would love to have a taste of him.

Crisis, though, shook her head. “Some, but I don’t see them too often. I know harpies live towards the top of the tree…” She paused for a moment, and noticed Ibrahim’s blank stare. “Giant women with wings for arms,” she said, pointing to her own limbs. “There’s all sorts of creatures that live around the tree, but as far as I go, I mostly live with my friend Anna, and Léa, a human girl I met years ago.”

Ibrahim blinked at that. “You live with a human?”

She nodded. “Yeah! We’re really good friends… you’ll meet her when we get to the Great Tree.”

“Maybe,” he said, nodding slowly. It seemed strange to think that a human being lived among all of these predators, and seemed alive and well. “And Anna…?”

“Oh, she’s a naga, like me.” She giggled at something he didn’t understand. “You don’t have to worry, though. She doesn’t eat humans. She actually thinks she is one, and is always trying to build human things.”

That did seem strange. “Why?”

“Beats me. Like I said, she’s a bit weird.”

The conversation died down for a while. A naga that thought she was a human, and a human that lived peacefully among other predators. Crisis certainly had a motley assortment of friends.

“Say,” Crisis said after some time, “you never did tell me where you were from.”

“I did tell you. I’m from Earth.”

“Well, yeah, but that doesn’t really tell me much.” She rolled her eyes, prodding him in the back with one finger. “What’s it like there?”

“It’s not like Felarya, for starters.” He laughed at that. Understatement of the year. How do you try to summarize an entire world, though, in terms that a creature who knew hardly anything about human life would understand? “Nothing alive there is nearly as big as things seem to be here. There really aren’t any jungles like this on Earth… at least, I don’t think so. If there are, they’re very far from where I live.” Or lived, he added silently.

He turned to face her, leaning against the fingers curled up to keep him from falling out of her hand. “Where I live… well, it was a city.”

“A city? I know the humans have one of those, a long distance away from here. I’ve never been there, though.”

Ibrahim blinked. “There’s a human city here?”

“There is… lots of you smaller people live there. There was also another city, long before that one, that’s all in ruins now.”

“What happened to it?”

She shrugged. “No one knows. It was a very, very long time ago.”

He nodded, and wondered just what happened to such a city. “You said where you lived was a city. Did something happen to it?”

In a way…, he thought. “It’s a long story.”

“You’re forgetting, I like stories. Long, or short.”

“Alright.” He breathed in; what happened had only been days before the wreck that sent him tumbling into this world. It wasn’t so much the remembering that would be difficult, but finding the right words. “There was… there was lots of fighting. There were a number of people, cowardly people, frightened, angry people, who didn’t like how they thought things were going, in the country I was from.”

“So they got angry, and hurt people.” He remembered the smoke and fire in the neighborhood mosque, the fires burning across the city, leveling buildings and sending residents scattering into the streets, running for their lives. Remembered thinking that this couldn’t happen here, things like this didn’t happen here. “I heard people calling it, ‘running the vermin out.’ They compared the people they didn’t like to pests, and tried to drive them away. Or worse. All the people I’d made friends with, everyone who thought differently from them. Anyone they thought who wasn’t exactly like them.”

His companion stared at him, a look of shock in her massive, teal eyes. “Why? Why would people do that?”

“I don’t know, Crisis.” He shook his head, fighting back tears. In his mind, the images of his city burning as he drove over the bridge, across the river, filled his memory. “I don’t know.”




They made camp late in the afternoon, Crisis parting ways with him for a while while she went to find food. Ibrahim wondered if he’d meet another human being who wasn’t trapped inside his companion’s stomach. He then remembered the woman she talked about, Léa, and realized he would eventually meet her, as well as the human-like naga, Anna. That, however, was still a long way ahead of him.

He tried not to think about Crisis’ meals, but couldn’t help himself. He could easily have ended up no different than any of the other humans she seemed to dine on. He gave her credit for trying not to bring her diet up when he was around, but occasionally things would slip into conversation, reminding him that he ranked far lower on the food chain than her.

It’s still not right, he thought to himself. What could he do, though. For all he knew, it was the only means of sustenance the naga had ever known. It seemed so common place here that no one thought anything of it.

But it’s still not right!

He pressed his open palms against his face, raking his fingers back through his hair. Someone, maybe more than one someone, were screaming for their life inside that woman’s stomach. Maybe now, or maybe very soon. They would still be in there, gasping for breath in an environment that was quickly becoming more toxic every time they inhaled. Crisis would lay, oblivious to what was going on inside her, and make conversation with him. All the while, her captured prey would be dying inside of her, slipping under the surface of a caustic pool of bile.

And there would be nothing he could do. If he argued the point, she would simply say that this was how things were, here in Felarya. Stronger creatures ate weaker ones.

Just like home, he thought, bitterly.

Crisis returned, her stomach’s gurgling audible as she approached. “Before you say anything,” he said, before she could speak, “I don’t want to know.”

She paused, his words surprising her. “I wasn’t going to say anything about it.”

He stared up at her, and then sighed. “Thank you.”

“I did bring you this, though.”

The naga reached into her bag, plucking out something so tiny that he couldn’t see it between her fingers. As she laid it in front of him, though, it’s identity became clear: a cloth sack, tied in a knot at the top. As he undid the tie, he found it full of food and bottled water.

Provisions, Ibrahim realized, feeling something heavy in his gut. The owner was probably still begging for help inside of her.

He finished unfolding the pack, the quaking of his empty stomach prompting him to at least take advantage of the naga’s gift. It’s previous owner was clearly prepared for a long journey, stocked with an assortment of dried meat, fruit and grains. He sighed, biting into some of what appeared to be jerky. It would be pointless, after all, to let it go to waste.

He ate quietly, Crisis lounging on her back, hands resting atop her belly.

“Crisis, are there humans that live here,” he started to speak after taking a mouthful of water, “that are native to Felarya? You mentioned Léa, but you make it sound like she appeared here, the way I did. And you mentioned a city…”

“I did. And yeah, humans do live here. I think some of them come from other worlds, but some of them have lived here their whole lives. At least, that’s what I’ve heard. None of us can really get close enough to really see.”

Ibrahim snorted. “I can’t imagine why.”

“There’s also a village, not very far from here, I think. A friend of mine, Jade, looks after it. She never lets any of us get too close, though.”

Again, Ibrahim thought, I can’t imagine why. “I think…” he started, rolling some unknown round fruit around in his hand. “I think it might be best if I tried to settle around other humans. No offense to you, Crisis, but I think I would feel a little more comfortable if my company didn’t consider me an option for dinner.”

“That makes sense,” said Crisis. “I wasn’t planning on eating you, though.”

“Weren’t planning on it?”

She shrugged. “I never want to say, never.”

They sat quietly for a little while, Ibrahim unsure of what to say. The sooner he could safely get away from Crisis, though, the better. “If you do go off on your own,” Crisis said, breaking their silence, “will you ever come to visit me? I’d really like to hear a little more about your world.”

He blinked. She seemed almost sad about the prospect of never hearing about the Earth again. “It’s that important to you?”

She nodded. “Alright. If you take me close enough to the village you were talking about that I can reach it on foot safely, I’ll tell you more about where I was going when I ended up here.”

“You were going somewhere?”

It was half-true, at least. He was certainly leaving one place behind, and he was moving towards another place. Whether he could call where he was going a destination, though, was something he wasn’t sure of at the time. Now, of course, he would never know.



Rain poured down, pasting the man’s hair to his forehead. He felt soaked to the bone, his t-shirt and jeans weighing heavily on his body. A few sports of red and a paler smear of the same color stained his clothes, spreading slowly, carried by the rainwater soaking into the fibers.

He dragged his hand over his swollen lips and frowned at the sight of fresh blood.

It was stupid, he told himself. It was a stupid fight. He won, though, and no number of thugs were going to deny him his jackpot.

That was the plan, at least.

The reality, however, was that the three bouncers that pulled him from the poker table were much bigger than he was, and at least one of them suggested he might be armed. It was probably a lie, he thought— it was almost impossible to get a carry-conceal in Jersey- but as shady as security in some of the city’s casinos were rumored to be, he didn’t want to take that much of a chance that these goons were law-abiding citizens.

Instead, they settled on pummeling him senseless and dumping him outside. It was late, and raining, and the few people still on the boardwalk didn’t seem to care much about the rumpled man sitting on a bench. They were all in a hurry, trying to get back to their hotels.

He should go home, he told himself. He told himself that every day for the past three months. His mother was surely worried sick about him, if the unanswered calls and messages on his phone were any indication. His father would be waiting for him, though, ready for him with his bellowing voice and massive, bruising hands. Just as they waited for him after every fight, every bad grade.

So he couldn’t go home. He would go back to his car and sleep, and hope a cop wouldn’t rap on the window and tell him to move along. That it wasn’t safe.

No shit, he thought.

“Pardon me.”

The voice came from in front of him, his hands tensing, ready to swing. His head snapped up, then his chest deflated as he took in the old man standing in front of him. He looked rail-thin, frail, even, as though he were lost in clothes and a raincoat far too big for him.

The man tilted his umbrella forward, covering them both. “You look rather wet, young man,” he said, smiling through a salt-and-pepper beard. His skin wrinkled around his eyes and mouth.

The younger man licked his lips, still tasting blood. He spat off to the side, frowning at the newcomer. “Nice observation.”

His irritation made did little to erase the old man’s smile; the eldery man’s gaze seemed to wander, glancing at the handful of people hurrying along the boardwalk towards cover from the weather, and then finally turned back to him. “Don’t you have anywhere to go?”

The young man shrugged, soaked shirt bunching at the back of his neck. “Not particularly.”

The old man nodded. “I could help you somewhere drier than that bench. Much warmer, too. If you’d like.”

He looked around the man at the grey sky and sea ahead of him, and the grey buildings and dark, rainsoaked boardwalk at his feet. Rain rolled off the old man’s umbrella and splashed onto the wooden planks. What threat was an old man to him, anyway?

He stood, stepping around the other man, to stand beside him. “Alright. I could use a warm room.” He stared, puzzled, at his would-be host. “What’s you’re name, anyway, grandpa?”

Water splashed under their feet, freed from small puddles to continue their journey to the shaded sand below. “Yusuf. And yours, young man?”

He grinned, and pressed his lips together to blot the warm blood still welling up there. “Abe,” he said. “My name’s Abe Saunders.”




“I’ve never been to the seashore. Anko tells me it’s very nice, though.” Crisis nodded as they traveled. “She doesn’t always get to go that far down river, but what she’s seen is really beautiful.”

They were off again, moving south according to Crisis. He now sat on her shoulder, one of the naga’s hairs tied around his waist to help ensure that he wouldn’t fall from his perch. The strand was thick as rope but as smooth as silk, his hands only occasionally sliding over a fine crack along its surface.

“I’m guessing Anko is another of your friends?” He already had a considerable mental list of names of people Crisis knew: humans like himself, fairies, other nagas, giants. She told him that there many others she didn’t know, beyond being aware that their species existed and that she occasionally crossed paths with individuals. “What is she?”

“A mermaid, obviously.”

“Obvious to you, maybe. I’m still trying to get my head around the tree people.” His mouth shaped around silent words for a moment. “A… a dryad, right?”

“Right!” She gave him a thumbs-up; it was strange to see such a human gesture from; something she must have learned from one of her many friends. “See? You’ll get the hang of things here, soon.”

That’s the thing, he thought. He wasn’t sure he wanted to get used to Felarya. He stared to feel torn between two worlds; there was very little to go back to, in his world. Things were breaking down, falling apart. The very fabric of the world he was familiar with was starting to come apart. Earth, though, was his home. Felarya, by comparison, was so alien and savage, he doubted he would ever feel truly comfortable here, even if he did come to live with other humans. “I don’t know if I can get used to this place,” he said, watching the ground slide by below.

Crisis turned her head; Ibrahim could see her reflection in one of her eyes. “It just takes time,” she said, a gentle breeze fluttering towards her passenger as she closed her eyes for a moment. “Time, and good friends. I don’t know ehere I would be without my friends.”

Without a word, the naga came to a sudden stop; Ibrahim cried out and hung for a moment by the thread of Crisis’ hair. “What?” he said, his feet pressing into her skin as he climbed back up to his seat. “What’s happening?”

“Something big. Hold on!”

Ibrahim clung fast to his lifeline as Crisis grabbed a tree branch. She thrust upwards into the canopy, propelled by the length of her tail, which then swung upwards onto another branch as soon as she had a good handhold.

He stared in shock at her; he could feel beads of her sweat soaking into his clothes. He walked carefully closer to her neck, knees shaking. “What could be big enough to scare you?”

She said nothing, but pointed down through a gap in the leaves.

He could already hear them, before he summoned the will to look out past Crisis and her perch. Low growls rumbled through the woods like distant thunder, heavy footsteps rustling the leaves in their tree. He forced himself not to make a sound as he stared down into the gap.

Below were wild dogs with six legs, each moving in unison with the others like pistons on an engine. Each one’s body looked the length of a family house back on his world, if not longer. There were momentary flashes of light bared fangs, and the glow of eyes filled instinctual menace. There were unfeeling monsters, unlike the giant hiding with him.

“Kensha beasts,” said Crisis, voice shaking and barely above a whisper.

The animals moved slowly, each sniff they took of the air audible to the two hiding from them. For a moment, one turned its head upward; Ibrahim froze, terrified. He assured himself the Crisis would protect him, but he wasn’t sure how, as she too seemed just as afraid.

One by one, though, the pack moved onward, their footsteps fading away again into the woods. Ibrahim’s lungs ached; he’d forgotten he’d been holding his breath, and finally exhaled.

Crisis, two, slowly relaxed and lowered them down out of the tree. Still, her attention was everywhere by on the man clinging to her neck. “You were afraid,” Ibrahim said, still trying to steady his racing heart, whispering prayers under his breath.

She nodded. “One of them by itself can be dangerous, but a pack… a pack could kill me. I’d have no way out.”

“It’s hard to imagine you could something’s prey.”

“I am, though. That’s how this world is.” Ibrahim could feel the muscles moving, sliding back out of tension under Crisis’ skin. “Everyone knows it’s dangerous here. Especially for someone your size. We all live with some sort of danger, though, every day.”

They moved on, following a different path from the beasts.




He couldn’t sleep that night.

Of course, he’d slept lightly ever since arriving in Felarya. Nightmares fueled by the noises echoing in the darkness filled his head and sat him bolt upright in a cold sweat. Part of him wondered if he’d ever feel rested again.

This nightmare was different, though. What he work from was not a vision of Crisis’ maw catching him, but the naga spread out over the ground, bloody, with her gut torn open. A pack of the wolf-like monster, the kensha beasts, had their muzzles buried in her flesh as she screamed in agony.

He was calling out her name when he woke. He looked behind himself and sighed in relief that she was still peacefully asleep, oblivious to the horrible images filling his head.

He’d started to think of her as invincible; every other giant she mentioned seemed to be her friend. It never occurred to him that this world would have some sort of creature that could prey on Crisis’ kind.

Good, he heard a voice from inside his head. Maybe she might see how her prey feels.

He shook his head. No. That’s not right, either. It was a struggle to live here, and if he wanted to survive in such a dangerous environment, it would be cruel to wish any suffering on her.

Her survival, though, depends on consuming people like me.

What sort of person am I, he wondered, the words replying with distant sounds of the night that reached him from every side. He both was and wasn’t safe at Crisis’ side. He couldn’t bear the thought of sitting with her again, eating in front of her, knowing she’d filled her belly with his fellow man. He should be freeing them, not casually making conversation with the being that consumed them!

He dropped down, scooping up a stone from the ground. With one fluid motion, he both stood and spun to face to opposite direction. His momentum slung the stone from his hand, casting it off into the distance.

It was then that he heard the growling.

He felt frozen to the spot where he stood, his blood turning to ice in his veins. It sounded like thunder, the rumble of an approaching storm over the horizon. There was no flash of lightning, though, and the sound was far too close. He looked up, nearly tripping over his feet as he searched where the sound came from.

Two great, red eyes stared back from the shadows at him.

The beasts, he realized. They followed us.

He ran for Crisis immediately, crashing into her collarbone, out of breath. “Crisis!” His voice rasped as his lungs tried to fill themselves. “Crisis, wake up!”

She stirred and mumbled, but her eyes remained closed. Ibrahim heard the growing closer, and with it, another, more distant. They’re surrounding us! “Crisis, please, wake up!”

He trembled at her side, the ground shaking at the massive beast’s step. It was close enough to see now; the head of a gigantic wolf stared down, long strings of drool oozing from between the foremost teeth, some matting in its fur while the rest dripped to the ground.

He crouched, hiding behind Crisis’ bulk. He was trapped with her; she could surely fight back if she were awake to notice the threat. She was lost, though, deep in slumber. Could she fight them? She was as afraid of them as he was. They could overpower her, especially as surrounded as they were.

Perhaps he could run. He was small; they might not even notice him. He could just keep moving forward and reach the village Crisis was leading him towards. He could go, and leave her here to face these monsters.

Alone.

He shook his head. No. It would be wrong to leave her. It would be the cowardly thing to do. He’d spent enough of his life running, and did not want to do it again.

He threw open the sack he carried with him since their earlier meal. He could already feel the beast’s breath upon him, blasting down hot, humid breath from the depths of its lungs. Grabbing the knife buried within the folds of fabric, he walked back and met the monster’s gaze.

“Hey!”

It dropped its head, staring straight at him. Jagged fangs stood out against its dark fur and blood red gums. Eyes that seemed lit by fire bore down at him. Ibrahim felt his heart race as its head lowered towards him; his fingers closing tightly around the knife.

Whomsoever does an atom’s weight of good, he whispered to himself, he shall see it. He’d let the beast snap its jaws around him, and then drive the knife into its tongue, its palate, anything he could reach. He’d let it roar in pain; surely, that would be enough to wake Crisis up. Maybe it would spit him out. Maybe it wouldn’t. But he would not simply let it gore her, with not a soul around to help.

“Hey!” he said again, stepping back, shaking as he stared into the beast’s eyes. “If you want her, you’ll need to take me first!”

The monster bellowed and lunged towards him, its mouth opening wide— Ibrahim could see straight into its throat. Whatever happens, he told himself, charging towards it, Allah knows what is best for me.

Then, in a blur of movement, the beast was thrown into the air and onto its back. Crisis gasped for breath, her muscle standing out under layers of skin and fat, the woman looking more powerful, more an animal, than he had yet seen. Her tail swept quickly around the two of them, knocking the other kensha beast from its feet, the beast yowling as it slammed into the forest floor. “Are you alright?” she said, gasping.

“I… I think so!” he said. He looked down at his hand; his knuckles were white from his grip on the knife.

Without thinking, Crisis him swept him up from the jungle floor, clutching him close to her chest. “Then lets,” she said, searching the trees for the monster’s companions, “get out of here!”

He nodded, overwhelmed by the heat of Crisis’ body flowing through him as it rose up through her skin. The naga launched herself forward; wood splintered as her tail smashed into a nearby tree, her free hand digging troughs into the damp soil. One of the beasts jumped out at her; she simply plowed into the monster, the weight of her body crushing its back as she rolled over it and onto her belly. She rose back up between breaths and raced forward again as the beasts’ snarls and growls closed in on them

Her heart pounded below Ibrahim, each beat like a wrecking ball to his hearing. He’d droped the knife when Crisis grabbed him, not that it mattered. The weapon likely would have hardly scratched these animals, no matter how hard he’d tried. All he could do was hope she could outrun them.

The trees flashed by through the gaps between her fingers; he could see glimpses of the ground, the dark, damp soil giving way to dryer ground and rock. Where were they going?

“Do you trust me?” Crisis struggled to get her question out between breaths.

He writhed against her palm until he could stick his head out from between her fingers. “What for?”

“No time to explain!” The monster were closing, the horrid noise they made grew louder. “Yes or no, do you trust me?”

He swallowed hard, unsure of what she had in mind. What choice did he have, though? “Alright! I do!”

Crisis wasted no words, and before he could see what was happening, the ground fell out from under them. They were flying, flung out over the edge of a cliff as Crisis’ tail whipped out behind her.

The beasts howled, watching from the edge as gravity reasserted itself and took hold of them, pulling naga and man downwards. They were falling! Ibrahim’s heart felt as though it were climbing up his throat. “Crisis!” he called out over the roaring wind, “What are you doing?”

The naga simply smiled at him. “Please,” she said, great streamers of blond hair trailing her head like a comet’s tail across the sky. “Trust me.”

The trees below rushed towards them, a sea of green treetops overtaking the sky as they fell. He clung to her, afraid of falling out of her grip. Crisis threw her arm out ahead of her, just as they slammed into the canopy.

Branches snapped from their places, the jungle filling with the violent noise of a giant naga falling through the trees. Ibrahim pressed his face into her shoulder to shield his eyes, whispering prayers that they might come to a safe stop. That there was enough to slow them down. That gravity was, somehow, more forgiving in Felarya.

Worst of all were the shouts of pain as the thicker tree limbs slammed into his companion. One broke apart against her arm, cutting into the skin. Drops of viscous blood oozed out and flew up into the air, riding the wind blowing past them upwards. Her shouts rang like a heavy, falling bell as it dropped from its place.

Then, just as quickly as they fell, they came to a stop.

It took a moment for him to realize he was upside-down. Mostly, he was dizzy from the fall and couldn’t remember for the moment which direction is up. He breathed slowly for a few moments before daring to look up.

Crisis’ body stretched out above him, tail ascending far into the distance before wrapping around a massive tree limb. She dangled there like a pendulum, her hair sweeping over the ground.

“I told you,” she said, a broad smile on her face, “that you could trust me.”

He looked back down at her face. “You saved me,” he said between gasps for breath.

She shook her head; one arm reached for the ground as she lowered them both onto solid earth. “No,” she said, her own breathing slowing back to a calmer pace. “We saved each other.”




They slept until mid-day, both so exhausted by their escape from the monsters pursuing them that they could hardly move for hours. When they finally rose from their rest, the sun stood high overhead.

Crisis had tightly coiled her body around the two of them, the bulk of her tail formed one great, curving wall around him. He slept close to her, reassured rather than frightened by the steady breathing blowing over him each time she exhaled. He was still afraid, he thought, and kept his distance from her mouth.

Now, though, he knew her hands were as willing to shield him as they were to drop him into her mouth. Either was an element of survival, he thought. Life was a struggle, with one hunter pursuing another. Not out of cruelty, per se, but out of the simple desire to keep existing.

They awoke and continued south until they came upon a river, the broad channel of water carrying onwards to the west. “This runs towards the village I told you about. Follow the water, and you’ll make it there.”

He looked back at her, the naga leaning forward to come down more towards his level. “This is where we go our separate ways. Jade won’t let me get much closer than a day’s travel.”

Ibrahim nodded; all previous sarcasm evaporated when they dove through the air together. “You think I’ll be okay?”

“Sure. Just be alert!” She pointed to her eyes with one hand, and her ears with another.

He laughed and walked towards her, extending a hand to her, which she carefully took between two fingers. “If you promise not to eat me, I’ll find you and we can share some more stories.”

Crisis winked at her tiny companion. “I’ll think about it…”

He started to walk away, still half-turned towards her as he stepped sideways. “‘Til we meet again! Ma’as salaam, Crisis. Go with God’s peace!”

He watched her fumble with his words for a moment, until finally she smiled. “Mah… ahs… sah-lam. Hah! Same to you!”

The two separated, their laughter lingering for some time in the woods. Ibrahim turned forward and walked alongside the river. It would carry him somewhere, he knew, and for the first time in some tme, he looked forward to the journey.

Title: A Single Part of Mercy
Continuity: Ibrahim in Felarya
Pairings: None
Tags: giantess, cat people, religious characters
Synopsis: Ibrahim arrives in the village of Safe Harbor, ready to make the frontier town his new home. A Neko with a sharp attitude, and a firey preacher from the distant city of Negav, though, look ready to disrupt that relative calm and stability.

Notes: Remember when I said on the previous episode that things were going to take a sharply different turn from here on out? This is what I meant. Safe Harbor never appeared (except in mention by name) in the original draft of the story; neither did Keereh, the Neko boy Ibrahim meets here. Ethran, the Othemite preacher, as a much more minor role in the original story than he does here.

So as you can see, I have a very different idea in mind now of what I want to do with the story. We’ll just have to see where this runs to. Sit back, and I hope you enjoy today’s episode!


A head bobbed up above the river’s surface, the rest of its owner obscured below the muddy water as her eyes searched the riverbank. Dark, stringy hair floated over the surface, drifting with the current and the creature’s attempts to keep steady against the water’s flow.

A man she’d never seen before knelt at the water’s edge, washing water over his face. Most humans in Felarya were more cautious to venture so close to a river’s side; the shores were exposed both to members of her own kind who preyed upon men, as well as to the open air. Harpies descending from the mountains both to the north and south of this place often descended upon the rivers and streams of the Tolmeshal seeking a meal— more than a few of her own siblings had met their end in the stomachs of those great, winged predators.

She ventured closer, swimming until her hands could grip the bottom and pull her the remaining way. The muddy soil kept her skin damp, and made it safer to venture up onto dry land. Her own eyes glanced up at the sky, though, and made sure the open blue above them was clear.

“You realize it’s dangerous,” she said, crawling up beside the man. Hair lay over her breasts, enough of her tail rising up out of the water to make it clear that she wasn’t human. “It’s dangerous to venture so close to the water.”

The man smiled at her and nodded; wavy, dark red hair framed his face, while dark red stubble had started to grow over his jaw and around his mouth. His clothes— she never quite understood the purpose of that human invention— seemed dirty and more than a little worn. “True as that might be,” he said, “I still need to bathe. Or, at least, to wash up.”

“And that’s worth risking your life for?”

He shrugged. “I keep my eyes and ears open.”

She laughed at that, and shook her head. Such a peculiar man; he seemed quite confident of himself. Clearly, she realized, he wasn’t from this world. “You’re new around here, aren’t you?”

He smiled and stood up, scraping the dirt from his shoes on a nearby rock. “I am,” he said. “My name’s Ibrahim; I’m looking for a place called Safe Harbor?”


His destination, as it turned out, wasn’t much further ahead. By mid-day, he’d reached the outskirts of the town, and smiled in relief at the sight of people not already stuffed into some predator’s belly.

He quickly realized that calling Safe Harbor a town was overly generous.

There were buildings, to be sure, but only a few looked solid enough to be called permanent; a few of what looked to be stores surrounded a longer building. A collection of tents large and small were situated further out, but still huddled closely around one another. The further one walked from the shops, the smaller the tents became, until the ones at the very edge of the clearing looked as though there were nothing more than camping supplies the owners had brought along with them.

It was, of course, more than he’d come to Felarya with, Ibrahim realized. He frowned as he stood at the beginning of a dirt road, hands stuffed into the pockets of his now hard-worn jeans.

The sound of a cart riding up from behind him startled him; Ibrahim quickly stepped aside and watched the cart full of animal hides as it trundled by. A man’s voice called out from the front of the cart, pulling back on the reins tied to a pair of antelope-like creatures pulling the vehicle forward. The driver turned to look back at him, a brown cloak hemmed in fur wraped around his body. Tanned, sun-baked skin wrinked around his mouth, while black hair flecked with white rested lightly around his head like a cloud. The arm that shook itself out from under his cloak looked strong as it waved Ibrahim over.

“You look a little bewildered there, young man.”

“Sorry,” Ibrahim said, slowly approaching the cart’s side. “I didn’t mean to be in your way, there.”

“Not to worry; I saw you before I bumped into you.” The man chuckled. It was strange, Ibrahim thought. The man looked older, but also healthier and stronger than himself. “I’m guessing you’re moving into town?”

“I think so?” Ibrahim looked towards the little community just down the path. “I’ll be honest, I think I’m still trying to get my bearings around here.”

The man shifted over, gesturing to the now empty seat beside him at the front of the cart. “Why don’t you hop in and ride along with me? For all I know, you’ve probably been wandering around for a bit.”

“More than a little.” Ibrahim grabbed the side of the cart and hoisted himself onto the bench at the front of it.

The old driver laughed and cracked the reins, urging the creatures pulling him to move ahead. The cart shuddered at first and then rolled forward, moving along the road towards the village. ”Well then, I hope it gets a little easier for you from here out, my friend.”

Ibrahim sighed and stared out at the town ahead of him, the closest thing to normalcy he’d encountered thus far. “Insha’allah…” he said to himself, and waited to see what his new home might bring.


The tradesman— Ibrahim discovered on their ride into town that his name was Yarrick— was a frequent traveler between the secluded village of Safe Harbor and the city further south, named Negav. For that matter, the old man added, he was the only such traveler between the massive city and this tiny hamlet. “People need things they can’t make for themselves here,” he said.

“You travel alone?” The idea seemed strange to Ibrahim; outrunning a pack of kensha beast was firm reminder that not all of Felarya’s predators were thoughtful about their prey.

“Sometimes, sometimes not.” He tapped his hand against the back of their bench. Ibrahim turned to look behind himself, and noted the wide-mouthed riffle resting behind the man’s seat. “The noise drives away smaller, younger predators. The rest… well, you learn to run and hide, quickly.”

They pulled into the village center, beside the long commons house built a short distance back from the river. People were about and busy, talking and trading, the air full of a variety of conversations and noise. The noise was something Ibrahim was, at least, familar with. He thanked Yarrick for the ride, and jumped down out of the cart.

“Anytime, young man. If you ever need anything, say so.”

The cart rode off behind one of the buildings, leaving Ibrahim in the middle of the crowd. Several people called at him from their shops, offering everything from clothing and books to charms and food. He had only been away from civilization for a few days, and already he wasn’t quite prepared with how to come back to it.

Of course, he told himself, this little village was far different from the big city he’d grown up in.

One of the vendors caught his attention, beckoning him over to his piles of linen clothing in various colors and ornamentation. He looked short and seemed like he shouldn’t be much younger than Yarrick. Like the old man, though, he looked as hardy and healthy as anyone else. I guess the wilderness has that effect on people, he thought as he approached.

“All made by hand,” the salesman assured him, grinning with pride. “Unlike the big boys in Negav, we do all our looming right here in Safe Harbor, with no machinery or magic.”

Ibrahim chuckled at the description, looking through a few hanging shirts. “I’m afraid I’m a bit new here…” he started, turning away from the clothes towards their current owner. “How do I pay for anything here?”

The man shrugged, folding his arms over his chest. “With money. With labor. With whatever you’ve got. We take any form of currency that’s worth anything in Negav; mostly, though, we prefer payment in goods.”

Ibrahim frowned, and instinctively reached back into his pocket. His wallet, like much of anything else, was gone. Even if I had still had it, he thought, I really doubt they take dollars. “I’m afraid I haven’t got anything,” he said, turning out his pockets for the salesman. ”I only ended up in Felarya a few days ago.”

The man nodded, thumb and forefinger at his chin. “A newcomer, then. Alright, kid; no money, no problem. I’ve got you covered there. What’s your trade, by any chance?”

“My trade?”

The salesman rolled his eyes. “What you do, kid. What you’re good at. It takes quite a bit to survive out here; people need work done. You scratch someone’s back, they’ll scratch yours. You catch what I’m trying to say? That’s the currency around here, really— the sweat on your back.”

Ibrahim nodded. He’d worked odd jobs over the years, in this store and that. Modern, Earthly retail work seemed more than a little out of place in a setting that bore more resemblance to a colonial village than any town he’d ever lived in. “I’m afraid the world I came from isn’t… isn’t much like this one.”

“Come off it, kid. People do business almost everywhere.” The salesman toddled towards Ibrahim, grinning. “The money might look different, the goods might do different things, but the basics remain the same. We’ve each got something someone else needs. It’s just a matter of making the right deal.”

The man clapped a hand to his back, the impact startling Ibrahim; the man had more force to his limb than he expected. “Tell you what. You come work for me. I’ll give you some fresh clothes, and you can sell my wares. You can probably find lodging in the Hall for tonight. You help people out around here, and you’ll get what you need to set up camp. Sound good to you?”

“I’d really appreciate it,” Ibrahim said, nodding as he looked down to the man.

“Good. Name’s Darod, by the way; pleasure to bring you into the business, mister…”

“Ibrahim. My name’s Ibrahim.”

“Good name, like the sound of it.” Darod nodded, the man walking around with a little more spring to his step. “Alright, grab yourself a fresh shirt and pair of pants, and get out here. I need you hawking goods for me and my voice is tired from shouting all morning.”


Business thrived, and Ibrahim found himself with a steady stream of customers throughout the day. Most came to replace ruined clothing, or to buy garments for others in their family. Others came looking for someone with needle and thread; Darod would clap him on the back when he asked what to do, and tell him to improvise. “We’re on the frontier, kid,” the businessman said before walking away to deal with a tradesman bringing material into town. “The two seamstresses we’ve got are busy making clothes. Make yourself useful and learn to sew.”

The repairs were probably not the best, but few seemed to mind his lack of skill. At least, Ibrahim started to realize, as the day wore on, that everyone else was learning these skills day-by-day the same as he was. There were no experts in Safe Harbor, it seemed, about anything.

The din of the crowd was the most interesting part; the commons that the village market was centered around was constant full of people, a small but thriving mix of buyers and sellers, people venturing in from elsewhere with goods, and people preparing to venture outwards into the jungle. Stories of hidden temples, legendary treasures shared the air with neighbors counseling one another over loved ones lost to a hungry predator or unseen trap.

And then there was the preacher.

Ibrahim didn’t notice him at first, but as the voice started to climb up over the crowd he looked up from his work mending a pair of pants. Dressed in a white robe, the young, round-faced man shouted unintelligibly at the crowd milling past him.

“One of those Othemites,” Darod said from behind Ibrahim, his words carried on a sigh. “A rather obnoxious bunch, the whole lot of them.”

Ibrahim set his needle and thread down. It was probably for the best, for the time being, as all he seemed to have managed was knotting the thread around on itself. “Othemites?”

“Some weird cult from off-world. They’ve got a big temple in Negav and tend to crawl all over the place preaching. Something about a sun god or some other nonsense.” Darod frowned at the robed man standing on a wooden crate, shaking his head and turning back to Ibrahim. “Don’t give me any sour looks, kid. I get that you’re the religious type yourself. I saw you praying, or whatever it was you were doing, behind the shop. If that’s for you, then it doesn’t bother me. I just don’t take much stock in gods and the like.”

Ibrahim frowned, but shrugged the man’s disdain off. “By the way,” Darod continued, “you should probably stop and see Jade before you settle in for the evening. She’s in charge of the town, and I know she prefers to have a sense for who’s coming, going, and staying.”

“I’m guessing she’ll be in the Hall?”

Darod laughed, a knowing grin on his face. “Oh, no, no… she lives towards the edge of town. Don’t worry, you can’t miss her. Just be sure to go see her before you find a bed tonight.”

The salesman shuffled off back into his shop, waving a customer with several articles of clothing draped over their arms to follow him towards his counter. Ibrahim sighed and stared back down at his work, using his needle to begin working the knot apart. He hated being in the dark, and while he doubted his new employer would put him in danger, the man’s humor at his confusion left him more than a little anxious.

Still, this Jade was the woman in charge; it only seemed a courtesy to pay her a visit.


Late afternoon came, the sun creeping downward past the treetops, throwing much of the village into shade. “I won’t normally let you go so early,” Darod said, “but you’ve got a bit of work to do getting yourself settled. Just don’t forget,” he added with a nod, “Go and see Jade. You’ll know her when you see her.”

With that, he ventured off across the village, asking anyone willing to pay attention to his questions where to find the woman he was looking for. Everyone else seemed as amused as Darod had been and, while they gladly pointed him in the right direction, they also offered nothing as far as their leader’s identity beyond her name.

It took little time to cross the tiny village and reach the treeline, where he was told Jade would be sitting. He saw nothing at first until he walked around a bend in the treeline, and gasped.

The woman sitting there was absolutely gigantic.

Ibrahim stood dead in his tracks; a tan-skinned woman sat by the riverbank, leaning against the trunk of a tree as thick as her legs. She seemed to be talking to herself as her fingers traced lines in the dirt, her attention on whatever she was drawing and not on the man gawking at her.

“Are… are you…?”

The giantess looked up, light brown hair brushing against the back of her neck as she turned her head to look at him. Her mouth was thin-lipped and drawn tightly, eyes stern but calm as they looked down at him. “Can I help you?”

“You’re… you’re a…”

Jade sighed, carefully adjusting her legs as she turned towards Ibrahim. She was the first of Felarya’s giants he’d seen wearing clothing; Crisis bothered with nothing beyond her bag, while the creatures he’d caught passing glimpses of in the trees, the water and in the sky all seemed to forego anything resembling human attire. A short top covered her breasts, while a skirt tied together with vine draped over her lap and around the tops of her thighs. “You have nothing to be afraid of,” she said. “I’m no danger to you.”

Ibrahim nodded and took a seat on the ground, knees drawn up level with his chest. “Okay. Okay then,” he said, taking a deep breath. “I’m sorry. I’m still getting used to seeing people your size.”

She nodded. “I take it that you’re new to my village. What’s your name?”

He told her, and explained how he’d come to Felarya, and how Crisis led him through the jungle and guided him here to Safe Harbor. “You’re very lucky,” she said, listening attentively to him. ”She must not have been particularly hungry. She wouldn’t have let you go if she was hungry enough.”

He swallowed, remembering the terrifying view into Crisis’ maw. The thought no longer haunted him as badly as when he’d first arrived in Felarya, but the sight was still fresh enough in his memories that it took some effort to push the frightening image out of his mind’s eye. “I can imagine,” he said simply.

“I take it then, that you’ve come to settle here?” She saw him nod, and continued. “Then you should be aware that I have a few rules here.”

She leaned towards him, her hands resting on her knees, her legs crossed around one another. “I made this place to keep smaller being safe. I don’t like seeing them hurt; this world is too much for humans, and other beings your size. I wanted to give the people other giants simply look at as a potential meal a place to live in peace.”

“It isn’t perfect. Bad things still happen. We stand together, with one another, and keep each other safe.”

“I can understand that,” he said. “I can definitely appreciate that.”

“Predators of any sort are not allowed here. Even ones that aren’t giant… there are people much smaller than even you in this world, Ibrahim, and they deserve protection living here, as much as you and your kind do. So they turned away if they are found. They can hunt elsewhere, but not here.”

“I also value peace, here. Anyone who harms another, or tries to cause trouble, is also sent away. Am I clear?”

The giantess’ rules were simple enough, he decided, and nodded to her. “You are, yes.”

He stood, bowing his head to the giantess seated before him. “Then I hope,” Jade said, offering him the slightest hint of a smile, “you’ll feel welcome here, Ibrahim.”

“So do I, ma’am.” He smiled, feeling more at ease than he did when he’d first approached Jade. A village where he could live in safety, watched over by a giantess who could protect them. It truly felt like he’d found a home, until he could return to his own world. “God-willing, I will.”


The red of twilight was already rippling across the river as Ibrahim walked back towards the village. After leaving Jade behind, and finding a quiet spot to pray, he began walking up towards the Hall to find a place to sleep. Tomorrow, he told himself, he would definitely see about a tent. Having no place to of his own wasn’t an unfamiliar one, and sleeping in a large, wooden cabin was certainly better than the back seat of a beat-up, used car. It would feel nice, though, to have a roof over his head, even if it was only made of canvas.

A shadow darted through the trees, startling Ibrahim; his first instinct was to follow it, but he could hear Crisis warning him in the back of his head of how the jungle was a dangerous place for humans. Jade had said that her efforts to protect the village weren’t perfect, and that a predator or two sometimes escaped her watchful eyes.

The shadow looked human, though, or at least his own size. Shaking the voices from mind, he started to jog towards the trees in pursuit of the shadow. He lost sight of it for a moment, only to find it again, crouching among the trees. It was only when he drew closer that he noticed the figure’s bare torso, long, messy hair, and tall, pointed ears rising from the top of its head.

The figure turned towards him, quickly jumping to his feet; it was a boy, wearing a loincloth and little else, a long tail curling away from his spine. He bit his lip, swearing under his breath as Ibrahim approached. “Do you mind?” he said, his voice hushed. “I was hunting.”

Ibrahim raised his hands, palms out, keeping a distance between himself and the boy. “Sorry. I just saw you running, and I was worried that you needed help.”

“No, I don’t, and I just lost my dinner thanks to you.” The boy rolled his eyes and looked back into the woods. “Go back to your own kind, human.”

“I’m sorry,” Ibrahim said, starting to turn away. “You should… you should be careful. I don’t know what you hunt, but if… just know that you shouldn’t get too close to the village.”

“I’m not an idiot. I know how the giantess, Jade, runs things around here. The neera I were after just got a little closer to town here than they usually do.” He pointed back towards the village, still frowning at Ibrahim. “Now scram. I still need to eat, and if you’re anything like most humans, you don’t want to be around to see it.”

The cat-like boy jumped a tree root effortlessly, disappearing back into the depths of the woods. He worried for the creatures he was hunting— if there were cat-like people, given how things were in Felarya, they undoubtedly pursued tiny, rodent-like people. He may have spared some a fate within the boy’s stomach, but he would surely find others. This was simply, he reminded himself, the natural order of things.

He closed his eyes and turned his back on the woods, making his way back to town to find rest.


The next day was the most normal that he’d experienced since arriving in Felarya.

He rose and made his prayers, then watched the sun rise up from downriver, a few hardy fishermen standing at the shore hoping for a bite on their lines. The scent of food wafted down from the market, enticing Ibrahim with the scent of salted meats, spiced fruits and the cold crispness of vegetables grown in the small amount of farmland his fellow villagers had managed to plow here.

His fellow villagers, he thought as he made his way up to the circle of tents that made up the market. He already liked the sound of that.

Payment by barter still took getting used to; acquiring a meal took more than a little back-and-forth to hit upon some service he could provided in exchange. Even then, he only assembled a breakfast for himself after sampling a little of almost everything in the market. The names of the creatures slaughtered or harvested from sounded entirely unfamiliar to him, but as he bit into a slice of meat from the leg of some sort of bird, they tasted just as good as their Earthly counterparts.

People passing by as he ate stopped and said hello; quite a few smiled, welcoming him; he obviously had the look of a new arrival, and kept forgetting that despite his fresh clothes, he still looked as rough as he had when he rode into town the day before. With a warm meal in him, he could surely find a barber among his neighbors, or at least a blade sharp enough to do the job himself.

Darod welcomed him back to work, and called over one of the seamstresses— a woman a few years older than him who introduced herself as Mercia— to teach him how to sew patches without tangling and ruining his thread. After a few pricked fingers, and more than a few ruined lengths of thread, he started to get a sense for the work and managed to close a hole in a pair of pants without any trouble.

“Very nice, very nice,” Darod said. “We’ll teach you a little bit, each day.”

The prospect sounded nice, he thought to himself.

Others stopped through, one needing a shirt sleeve reattached, another looking for a sturdy pair of pants before venturing into the woods. A young man with rolls of paper under his arm and a pen tucked in his ear looked for a shirt, the one he owned thoroughly stained with ink. “Knocked the bottle onto myself,” he said. “I got little too into the piece I was working on.”

“You’re a writer?”

“Of this and that.” The man shrugged, and nearly dropped the papers under his arm. “Crap! Sorry. You’re new here, aren’t you?”

They talked as he worked, the man describing more than a few of his friends who lived in and around the village. Quite a few were of Felarya’s myriad predatory races. Most, though, kept their distance from Jade’s experiment out of a mixture of respect and fear of the giantess. “It was a crazy idea, most of them thought. Most of them still think that way. Nonetheless, she’s protected it, tooth and nail, every time. They know it’s a big deal to her, even if they don’t quite get why.”

He left Ibrahim to his work as more others approached, and Ibrahim slipped back into his work again, careful not to stick himself with his needles in the process.

The white-robed man was there again on his soapbox, calling out to the people going about their business around him. This time, Ibrahim listened more closely while he worked. The man spoke a sermon of doom, that Safe Harbor existed precariously and that its people should be cautious to trust the predators that surrounded them to leave them in peace. Only Oth, whom the man called “Lord of Suns and Light”, could ultimately protect them and forever eradicate the predatory menace from the land.

Eventually, a handful of people chased the Othemite preacher from his stand and sent him scurrying away, laughing to themselves about his speech. It seemed strange for the man to cause a commotion; everyone in Safe Harbor seemed at peace, settled down. It was the most absolutely normal place in Felarya he’d yet encountered.

The day finished as the sun started to dip towards the horizon, Darod patting him on the back as he placed a small bag of coins in front of Ibrahim. “Good work, kid,” he said, his hand resting on Ibrahim’s shoulder. “You’re not bad. I might have you try putting a shirt together, tomorrow.”

“I think you’re getting a little ahead of yourself, sir,” Ibrahim said as he looked inside the purse. His keep was much better than the day before, a full day’s wage, and more than enough to afford a roof to put over his head for the night.

“We’ll see. It’s not like I’m asking you to loom it yourself.” The shopkeep laughed and stepped back to let Ibrahim up from his table. “See you tomorrow, kid.”


He had just enough time to acquire a tent and a meal before the market closed up for the night. By the time he found a spot to set camp for the night, the stars were starting to make their presence known, sparkling in the pristine sky above Felarya.

He’d just started in on his meal when something rustled against his tent. He dropped the leg of meat he was holding onto the fabric supporting his dinner, gathering the whole meal up in a sack as he looked around the corner of his tent.

The boy from the night before was there, crouched on all fours, peering at Ibrahim just as he was staring at the boy. “What are you doing?” he said, voice hushed. “You shouldn’t be around here.”

“I can be here if I want. I’m not bothering anyone.” The boy crawled closer, joining Ibrahim at the front of the tent. He looked young, an older teenager maybe, but hardly much older than that. “It’s not like Jade’s some hard-ass. She lets some of us in, as long as everyone plays nice.”

“Alright, fine.” Ibrahim shifted over, opening his meal back up. The boy was staring straight at the food piled together in the center of the cloth sack, Ibrahim realized, and offered a leg to him. “I take it you didn’t have much luck hunting tonight?”

The boy took the offered food quickly and sank his teeth into it, tearing a large piece off of the bone. The tension in his body seemed to melt away as the food hit his tongue, the boy breathing deeply after he swallowed to fill his lungs with the spices cooked into the meat. “Not one bit,” he finally answered before taking another bite.

Ibrahim returned to his own meal, watching as the cat-like boy made quick work of the bird leg. ”What?” he said, flicking the picked-clean bone at Ibrahim. “Not all my meals are kicking and screaming when I eat them. Do you think I’m some sort of savage or something?”

He opened his mouth to answer, but bit his tongue and shook his head instead. “You could at least tell me your name,” Ibrahim said, “if you’re going to share my dinner.”

“Keereh,” the boy answered, grabbing another hunk of meat from the cloth resting on Ibrahim’s lap. “And to answer your next question, we’re called Neko. There’s a whole tribe of us living to the east of this village.”

He waited for Keereh to finish shredding his food before speaking up again. The boy was absolutely brutal to his meals; sharp front teeth, framed by pointed canines, rent meat from bone as easily as any knife. He hoped, at least, that whatever he normally ate wasn’t alive to feel those teeth tearing into their body.

“So what brings you all the way out here?”

“Wanted to strike out on my own.” The boy leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees. “Far as my people are concerned, I’m an adult. Can’t spend your whole life living close to your childhood home, so I decided to head out into the wilderness.”

“Isn’t that something of a dangerous proposition around here?”

“Maybe.” The boy shrugged and smiled, using the tip of his tongue to clean between his teeth. ”Safe is boring, though. What good’s being safe if you never see anything?”

“Even if what you see is the inside of some larger predator’s stomach?”

Keereh flicked his other bone at him, smirking as Ibrahim swatted the piece of garbage away. “What a sight, though, right? I’d rather avoid it if I can, but if it happens, well… what are you going to do? Not a whole lot, I’ll tell you.”

Ibrahim shook his head. “I wonder if the creatures you send into your own belly feel the same way.”

“They’d better. I take good care of myself; they should feel flattered to be part of such fine-tuned flesh and bone!”

“Somehow,” Ibrahim said, “I really doubt they do.”

The boy got back to his feet, dusting specks of food from his loincloth. “Can’t spend my life dwelling on it. Thanks for the meal, by the way. If you’re ever in a pinch, maybe I’ll spare you something.”

His tail sweeping out behind him, ruffling the back panel of his loincloth, Keereh walked out to the treeline and into the woods. Ibrahim kept his eyes on him until the Neko was lost in the shadows, then returned his attention to his food. Even in this little slice of peace, it seemed, there was still the uncomfortable reminder of how monstrous the world could be.


The following day was as ordinary as the previous one. Darod made good on his plan to teach him how to sew shirts; much of his morning was spent laboring over the process with Mercia. After a few failures, he started to develop a sense for what he was doing, and by mid-day he was finishing the work of the two women laboring on fabric and raw materials.

By mid-day, the crowd in the village had grown to a size Ibrahim had yet seen; instead of buying his lunch, he instead followed the people converging in front of the Hall. The Othemite was there again, standing on a platform built in front of the Hall’s entrance.

It was only when he reached the front of the crowd, though, that he saw the person held down on his knees at the preacher’s side. The Neko, Keereh, kept twisting his shoulders out of the man’s grip, only to have the hand he jerked away from grab his tangled hair and pull him back.

“This creature,” he said, snarling, “is a monster no better than the giants preying upon us! Oth has deemed that I make him an example to all of you, so that you may know his justice!”

Ibrahim blinked; the boy looked nothing like the confident creature that strode, laughing, back into the dark wilderness of the woods surrounding the village. He looked miserable, face bruised, his hands bound together with coarse rope. He looked around at the people gathered around the stand, staring at them, eyes straining for answers. “What’s going on? What’s going on here?”

“I am to understand that this village is a place of safety.” The preacher smiled, and tightened his grip on the Neko’s hair, pressing him down hard onto his knees. “A place for the weak to take shelter against the strong. And yet, your benefactor allows the hypocracy of a predator such as this one to live in your midst, unpunished!”

“What’s… excuse me!” Ibrahim spun about to look up at the man dominating the stage. His white robes seemed to glow in the sunlight, as did the symbol of a radiant sun hanging from around his neck. He was tall; taller than himself, Ibrahim realized as he approached, though thin judging by the way his clothing wore on him. “Excuse me.”

The preacher looked down at him; he seemed startled for a moment, not expecting someone to speak up over the murmur and mixed feelings of the crowd. He made effort to come down to kneel down to face him, and simply frowned as he stared down his nose at him. “And who exactly might you be, stranger?”

“I…”

Ibrahim felt the eyes of the crowd on him, their voices repeating the Othemite’s question. Who was he to these people anyway? He’d only just showed up here days before; what business did he have getting involved in the village’s affairs? This was, though, his new home, he reminded himself. “My name… My name is Ibrahim. I work for the tailor, Mr. Darod, and his seamstresses.”

He pointed to Keereh, while his eyes focused on the white-robed man beside him. “What’s the reason for this? What exactly are you accusing this boy of?”

The preacher laughed, and grabbed the boy by his hair again, dangling him out over the edge of the stage. “He is a monster! I found him feeding like the animal he is on a family of tomthumbs living in the woods at the edge of town!”

“That’s not true!” Keereh said, gasping as the words burst from his mouth. From so close, Ibrahim could see how red and wet his eyes were, his ears drooping to either side of his head. ”I know I’ve been… been hunting for them, but I haven’t found any…”

The crowd gasped behind Ibrahim, half of them calling for the Neko to be let go, while others called for his expulsion; a few others, though, called for more drastic action— words that seemed to encourage the Othemite preacher. “For so vile of actions,” he said as he pulled Keereh back towards him, “he deserves a most severe punishment. It is that punishment that I, Ethran Yal of the Order of the Doctrine of Oth, intend to carry out.”

“If you’re sure he’s done this,” Ibrahim said, taking a step towards the stage. “If you’re sure of what you’re saying, then bring forward these tomthumbs that he’s been stalking. I’m sure they would gladly confirm what you’ve said, especially with the knowledge that they would be protected by the town while doing so.”

The preacher sneered at him. “Are you… defending this monster?”

Ibrahim looked Keereh in the eye; the boy was the definition of desperate. He looked small and weak in the Othemite’s grip, frightened of the white-robed man’s threats. Someone should, Ibrahim thought to himself. He thought of his city, the city he once called home, burning as he drove away. Someone had to stand up for the boy.

“I am defending this boy, yes,” he said.

“Why?” Ethran held the boy out over the edge of the stage again, fingers hooked tightly around locks of his hair. “He’s a predator! A monster… no different than the dark beasts that lurk in the jungle around us!” He looked out to the crowd, frowning. “The same beasts some of you invite into your lives, welcoming them while ignoring the evil that they do!”

“He is a boy, Brother Yal. A child.” Ibrahim shook his head.

“That is no excuse!”

“If I stabbed you, Brother Yal,” Ibrahim said, raising his voice to ensure the whole crowd would hear him, “if I stabbed you, how would you react? How would you treat me?”

Ethran looked at him as though his face had somehow turned itself upside-down. “I would strike you back! I would not allow such an assault to go unanswered!”

Ibrahim nodded. “But if you stabbed me, I would want to know why you did it. I would be angry, and I would want to hurt you back, but the just thing would be to understand what happened. If you hurt me just to hurt me, then yes. I would punish you for that.”

“But!” Ibrahim pushed himself up onto the stage, standing up beside Keereh. “But if you hurt me because you were afraid, or if you stole from me because you were hungry, then what sort of person would I be to hurt you for that?”

“This boy commit murder!” Ethran pulled Keereh back towards him, dragging the Neko’s knees across the wooden boards. “He consumed another living creature alive!”

Ibrahim, though, shook his head. “You’ve got nothing to prove that.” He turned to the crowd, pointing to the white-robed man standing with him. “He has no proof, does he?”

No one spoke up for the Othemite. Ibrahim smiled and turned back to him. “I don’t approve of anyone preying upon anyone, but I have no reason to believe he’s done anything. Now, I don’t have any more authority here than you to judge him, but if you have nothing to show for your accusations, then I suggest you leave this kid alone.”

Ethran grabbed Ibrahim by his shirt, nearly pulling him from his feet as he brought lifted him to look him in the eyes. “I stand here,” he said, a growl rumbling in his throat as he spoke, ”as a servant of a god of justice.”

Ibrahim breathed deeply, his toes tapping against the stage as he tried to keep himself grounded. “And I stand here,” he said, still smiling, waiting for the other man to drive a fist into his face, “as a servant of Mercy that is far greater than any justice.”

“Just get out!” A voice called out from the crowd, and then was joined by another, the people standing up tall to be seen over their neighbors. “Get out! Leave him alone!”

Ibrahim landed on his back, thrown down by the Othemite preacher, who swung about to point an accusatory finger out at the crowd. “You listen to me, all of you! Your association with these beasts will bring you nothing but ruin!”

The crowd, though, started to advance on the stage, their calls for the Othemite to leave growing louder. Ethran took his hand from Keereh’s head and stumbled backwards, begging the crowd to fall back. As they reached the front of the platform, though, he hurried back and leapt to the ground. Without looking back, he ran for the river and the boat waiting with its bow beached on the shore.

Ibrahim sighed in relief, helping Keereh to his feet. The boy’s legs shook, unsteady for a moment, before he had enough confidence in them to let go of Ibrahim’s hand. The Neko turned to him, startled and wide-eyed as he stared at him. “I… thanks. Thank you, again. I guess I owe you twice, now.”

“You don’t owe me anything,” Ibrahim said. “I was just doing what was right.”


Jade called the two of them down to meet her by the river not long after; she asked about the Othemite as well, and frowned when the villagers told her that he’d already fled. “If they had any understanding of what we were trying to do here,” she said, looking down the river at nothing Ibrahim could see, “they’d stop bothering us.”

“They’ve been down here before?” Ibrahim asked.

Jaded nodded, and brought her attention to the human and Neko standing before her. “They have. They send one of their missionaries every so often, to try and convert people. They usually don’t last long.”

Ibrahim wondered just how many other of the townspeople Ethran had harassed before he arrived, then wondered if defending Keereh made any difference at all. Surely, he thought, someone in the town would have stood up for him.

“I’m sorry,” Ibrahim said, “for any commotion I might have caused.”

“The commotion was as much on our visitor’s part, as it was yours.” Jade shook her head. “Though I’m afraid he’ll only come back. By the sound of it, he made an enemy today. The Othemites aren’t particularly fond of having someone stand up to them.”

Ibrahim breathed deep and looked back over his shoulder at the town behind him. It seemed so peaceful now, calm now that Ethran had sailed away to some other place. More than anything, he wanted to stay in this place. “Are you sending me away, Jade?”

“I think that might be for the best. The choice is yours, though… you’ve done nothing wrong, Ibrahim, but I worry that we haven’t seen the last of that preacher.”

He nodded, feeling something deflate in his heart. So much, he thought, for finally finding a home in this world. “Then I won’t cause any more trouble in your town, ma’am.”

Jade turned her attention to the Neko beside him, frowning. “There is also the fact that you have been preying upon the people living along the edge of town.”

“But I haven’t eaten any in weeks!” Keereh said, looking between the giantess before him, and the human standing beside him. “The human was telling the truth, I haven’t eaten any of them!”

She shook her head. “But that’s why you’ve come here, to prey on them. Whether you’ve caught any or not, it’s something I can’t allow to go on. Even the smallest residents of this village are under my protection, young man.”

She leaned down, crossing her arms over her knees as she smiled at the Neko. “So I would like you to go with Ibrahim, and help him find a place to live.”

The two men blinked and looked to each other, confused. Keereh turned back to her. “What?”

“I would like you to be his guide. The jungle is a dangerous place, Keereh, for someone who doesn’t know it well, and as safe as Negav might be for Ibrahim, it’s not a suitable place for a predator like yourself.” She pointed into the distance, where the river curved around a bend in the woods. “Follow the river west; there’s a dryad named Iythalee who lives a few days’ walk from the village. Tell her I’ve sent the two of you to her.”

Ibrahim shook his head. “Jade, I can take care of myself…”

“No, you can’t. Keereh owes you for standing up for him, and you need someone who knows this land much better than you do. You each have something the other needs.” She sat back up, and nodded at the two of them. As firm as the giantess sounded, she nonetheless looked calm, even happy, to be speaking to them. “I expect you both to look after each other.”

The two both looked at one another again, still puzzled at one another’s company. “I won’t send you out so close to nightfall,” Jade continued. “You’re to leave at dawn, tomorrow. Gather what you need tonight, and then be on your way.”

Keereh groaned, but nodded nonetheless, sulking as he walked his way back towards the village. Ibrahim took a step back, but stopped, half-turned towards the giantess still sitting by the riverbank. “I don’t know if I can survive out there. I only managed as long as I did until I reached here with help.”

“That’s why I’ve sent help with you. I’m sure you’ll meet others.” Jade smiled and lowered a hand to him, calling him to walk towards her by curling her fingers. Ibrahim climbed his way up onto her palm and rose into the air, lifted by the giantess until he stood level with her face. ”It won’t be easy for you, but I believe that you can do this.”

Ibraihm shook his head. “Why?”

“Because there is something good, and something strong, in your heart, Ibrahim. Take that into the jungle with you, and you will find everything you need in due time.”


He returned to his tent, surprised to find Keereh sitting, cross-legged, in front of it. The two stared at one another for several, silent minutes, before Ibrahim sighed. “I guess I really am stuck with you, aren’t I?”

“That’s a hell of a way of putting it,” Keereh said, and frowned. The Neko stood up, arms folded over his bare chest, stepping up closer to Ibrahim. “But yeah. Wherever you go, I go, now. That’s what Jade told me, and I’m not nearly stupid enough to piss of someone her size.”

“I really doubt she would hurt you.”

“You don’t know that,” Keereh said, wagging a finger at him.

Ibrahim walked past him into the tent, kneeling down to lay out the mat he’d acquired to lay comfortably on. Keereh followed him inside, dropping down in one of the corners behind him as the tent flap fell back into place. “Can I ask you something?” Ibrahim said as he worked.”

“Sure, go for it.”

“Was that Othemite preacher right?” He turned and sat on his mat, arms resting over his lap as he stared at the boy. “Were you eating someone when he found you?”

The Neko snorted, rolling his eyes. “So you don’t trust me, after all.”

Ibrahim said nothing, suddenly uncomfortable with ever having brought up the question. Keereh shook his head though. “I didn’t. You were right. He found me out in the woods napping, actually.”

Ibrahim nodded. “But you have eaten them before, haven’t you?”

The boy shrugged. “Of course. Lots of us do.”

“Even though you don’t have to?”

The boy shrugged. “They’re there, and they taste good.”

Ibrahim laughed at that. “I’m sure there’s plenty of others out there that would think the same of you and me.”

“We’ve had this discussion before.” Keereh groaned, laying down on his side, propped up on his elbow as he looked up at Ibrahim, tail curled around his waist. “Look, the simple fact is, I don’t mind, and I don’t care. I know there’s plenty out there that could eat me. Given how the world works, I’ll probably die in someone’s belly. So will you. That’s just how it is, here. The only people who try to change it are fools like that Othemite, and their idea of ‘change’ is obliterating anything they disagree with.”

“I don’t agree with that either,” Ibrahim said, “but that doesn’t make killing someone slowly inside your stomach any less wrong.”

“Then they should get over it, and accept it. Simple as that.”

“It is not,” Ibrahim said, “as simple as that.”

“Then what do you want? I’ve got to eat, I’ve got to eat meat, so what do you want me to do?”

Ibrahim sighed and layed down onto his mat, back turned to the Neko still sitting in his tent. He didn’t care if he stayed; they’d be sharing one another’s company soon enough, anyway. ”Return the favor I showed you,” he said as he drifted into sleep.


There were people waiting for them at the riverbank at dawn.

Ibrahim was surprised; he hardly knew anyone in the village. Darod and his seamstresses were there, the businessman embracing Ibrahim with a firm clap to his back, wishing him well. The writer he spoke to was there as well to wish him luck. Yarrick, the tradesman, brought him a coat. “It can get cool in the jungle at night, some days,” he said, pushing the coat into Ibrahim’s arms. “Some days it can rain hard. You’ll thank me for this later.”

Keereh lingered a few steps behind him, waiting; only the writer took a moment to wish the Neko safe travels as well.

A few others came; Ibrahim barely knew them, but they said they’d seen him speak in front of the hall in defense of the Neko. In a few days, he’d made an impression, he realized— though, he reminded himself, he’d also made just as much of an impression on Ethran Yal. The Othemite was sure to come back looking for him.

Then there was Jade. The giantess sat with her back to the village, waiting for Ibrahim to say his farewells. “Remember, though I am sending you away,” she said, “if you ever need anything, you need only visit, and you will be welcomed here.”

“Thank you,” Ibrahim said with a smile, and reached his hand up towards the giantess’ massive palm. “Peace be with you, Jade. I hope I’ll have the chance to see you…” he paused and turned to his well-wishers, nodding to all of them. “…to see all of you again, some day.”

Keereh punched him in the arm, nodding in the direction of the woods that surrounded the village. “If you’re ready,” he said.

Ibrahim nodded and waved one last time before following the Neko towards the trees. Safe Harbor, his home for only a few days, was behind him now. What lay ahead was the unknown, as was the boy he followed, and the future that awaited him.

Jade promised him things would be okay; that somehow, he would find a way to thrive in the wilderness. Insha’allah, he thought to himself, and started his way back into the jungle.

That is indeed quite a rewrite!

Nice work. Keereh is an interesting character; his abrasiveness and pragmatism are quite understandable in the context (living in the wild, on the edge of a village that has a very different outlook on life to his own), and it creates an interesting potential for his companionship with Ibrahim.

Just a note: I'm a little dubious as to how much trade goes on in Safe Harbour. As you correctly said, it's more of a village than a town. Ravana has said that it has a stable population of about 80 (to which are added transients). (The wiki could probably do with updating to indicate population.) That being the case, and since it's rather isolated, I don't envisage there being all that much trade. There surely can't be much money circulating within the village, cut off as it in, which in turn would seem to inhibit money-based trade (as opposed to barter). (It's not exactly safe to travel from there to Negav and back.) I've always seen it more as being based on a cooperative spirit; every person chipping in freely to the best of their abilities. But that's simply my view, which I used in my stories; ultimately it's up to Ravana.

(Incidentally, I've always also assumed that there are a few nekos living in Safe Harbour. Though again, I don't think Ravana himself has said so explicitly.)

French snack wrote:

That is indeed quite a rewrite!

Nice work. Keereh is an interesting character; his abrasiveness and pragmatism are quite understandable in the context (living in the wild, on the edge of a village that has a very different outlook on life to his own), and it creates an interesting potential for his companionship with Ibrahim.

Just a note: I'm a little dubious as to how much trade goes on in Safe Harbour. As you correctly said, it's more of a village than a town. Ravana has said that it has a stable population of about 80 (to which are added transients). (The wiki could probably do with updating to indicate population.) That being the case, and since it's rather isolated, I don't envisage there being all that much trade. There surely can't be much money circulating within the village, cut off as it in, which in turn would seem to inhibit money-based trade (as opposed to barter). (It's not exactly safe to travel from there to Negav and back.) I've always seen it more as being based on a cooperative spirit; every person chipping in freely to the best of their abilities. But that's simply my view, which I used in my stories; ultimately it's up to Ravana.

(Incidentally, I've always also assumed that there are a few nekos living in Safe Harbour. Though again, I don't think Ravana himself has said so explicitly.)

Took me a bit to respond to this, didn't it? ^^; Oops.

I changed a few things in the most recent episode, keeping in mind what you pointed out. A more barter-oriented community makes a lot more sense for a community as isolated as Safe Harbor. I also tweaked Yarrick's character a bit, to make his trade back and forth between the village and Negav much more unusual, and highlight how dangerous it tends to be. I might like to do something with him in the future; there's a lot of potential to show just how he's managed to survive the back-and-forth for so long. There's a lot of story-telling potential in that.

I'm really glad Keereh clicked so nicely. ^^ I just... the idea of someone like Keereh in the story, with a very cold sense of Darwinian morals, who could be such a contrast to Ibrahim's concept of mercy and justice, also has a lot of story-telling potential. Jade makes the point that they both have something to offer the other, and it will be fun to explore just what that is in the stories to come.

I've always imagined the relationship between nekos and humans in Felarya to be an uncomfortable one; I don't know how true that actually holds, and I'll need to do more research as I dive further into that inter-species relationship. But I feel like the nature of beings like nekos-- beings that are humanoid and human-sized, that have societies and cultures like humans, but that are also predators like other species in Felarya's wilds, would seem unsettling to most humans. Again, I'll want to read up on it, though, and get a better feel for how that relationship works.