The Non-Human Society

“Lughes is always so scatter brained! How could he forget he had family coming over?” the plump woman giggled, telling me that she was far used to Lughes. Probably too used to him.

I'd have to remind Crane to keep an eye on this relationship. Lughes, like most of our kind, always forgets that humans aged far quicker, and if this middle-aged woman eventually grew older and started to question why that scatter-brained forgetful old man was still alive and kicking, issues might arise.

“We actually have a few hams; I just cleaned and cut them this morning. Would you like those instead?” the woman asked, jubilant. Too happy, in fact.

“Sure, we'll take them,” I said. I wasn't going to actually scour the city for a turkey. It'd take me all day, and chances were I'd not actually find one.

“I'll go have the boys prepare them for you,” she waved happily as she retreated to the back of the shop. After a few moments, I heard her loud voice as she barked an order. Judging by the way she was yelling, those boys weren't any common boys. They were sons.

“She's a nice lady.”

Shifting a little, I glanced to the woman who was smiling gently at the scene before her. Or rather, the loud conversation we could hear but not see.

Studying her for a moment, I found my eyes wander to her pants. They were old. Worn. Weathered.

Even for our kind, who sometimes paid no attention to their attires, they were too broken down.

Probably all she owned.

Yet it wasn't their wear that bothered me. It was the design.

Those little loops near her ankles, half covered by the snow stuck to her, were a familiar design. I even remembered the one who created it. I remembered that little church, and the young family who had spent days designing those emblems.

It wasn't a bad design. It wasn't out of place. It didn't tell others she was a slave, or a noble, or anything odd like that...

Looking away just as she turned to look at me, I knew she had felt my stare. I wasn't ashamed or embarrassed over it, but I wasn't in the mood to have to tell her why I was glaring at her.

At least not yet.

After all it wasn't necessarily her fault. Especially if she wasn't very old.

“Honey, would you like some bacon too?” the larger woman popped out from behind a curtain, smiling as she asked the question.

A good salesman, if anything. The woman next to me went a little stiff, and I knew it was because she had envisioned eating them.

“Sure. Got a few pounds?” I asked her.

“That we do! I'll bundle it all up with it,” the woman happily retreated back into the shop.

I sighed, and did my best to ignore the happy smile on the woman next to me. She was not only glad I had bought some bacon, but seemed to actually enjoy the woman's happy demeanor.

So odd sometimes.

“Amber said this family has been running this shop for generations,” the woman said gently. A little softly, as if to not be heard by the ones behind the wall, in the back.

“Most likely. People usually take over their parents positions when able,” I said.

“It's nice. Makes me wonder what we'd be like, if we could do the same,” she whispered.

Running my eyes along the counter in front of us, I was half tempted to lean on as if I was tired. I wasn't tired. At all. But felt like I should be.

I always felt as if I should be exhausted. Yet was I even capable of getting so anymore? When was the last time I was out of breath, or actually weary?

Tossing the thoughts away, I studied the little meat shop.

The front of the shop was mostly bare. There were a few signs hanging on the walls, to the left and right of the counter. Not behind it, oddly enough, that displayed their products and their prices. Freshly drawn numbers told me that they had changed them this morning. Most likely thinking they could charge a little more than normal thanks to the weather.

They were right.

An odd silence filled the room as I listened to the family in the back. Not only were they loud, they were busy. Something that sounded like glass was being moved, maybe a jug?

“Why... why was Crane crying? Earlier?” the woman next to me broke that silence with an annoying question, but one I understood.

“She was simply expressing her grief. She heard terrible news,” I said.

The woman's eyes were a little golden in color. The kind of yellow that drew attention, especially the human kind. Yet her pupils were luckily not too different than a human's. A little too clear. A little too large, but still circular in shape. Though that might just be because we were in a small room.

I knew beneath her hat, made from a small animal... maybe an otter, were two large ears. Similar to Lomi's.

And then her most non-human trait, of course, was her tail. Now hidden beneath her baggy pants, and large jacket. If one paid attention they could just make out the tails outline. She had it wrapped around her right thigh.

Noticing the circular loops on her decrepit pants again, I wondered what to think of her.

She was... rare today. A real predator. Not too unlike Lomi, but yet still a step away. She wasn't just some cat, but a forest one. Maybe a leopard, based off the way her ears had looked to have different shades in their color. The coloration had looked like spots.

“You said your name was Renn?” I asked her.

The woman went still, and nodded uncertainly.

“Any last name?” I asked. Usually those like her did have them.

“Not that I'm aware of,” she said.

Maybe she didn't know it. Or hadn't been able to learn it.

Just like Lomi, who undoubtedly would now go through her long life without knowing many family stories and secrets.

The thought weighed on me, and I forced my attention elsewhere.

Oddly my eyes ended up on her fingers.

They were coiled around each other, and I knew any human who saw the action would simply think she was trying to warm them. I knew better.

She was nervous. Anxious.

“Lomi's village was destroyed. About a month's distance from here. Burnt by the church,” I said gently. Low enough that the woman who was heading back couldn't hear.

Renn's breath caught, and I was glad she was old enough to contain her emotions a little better than most. The shopkeeper didn't notice her sudden sorrow as she directed two younger men.

They carried out two small boxes. Made of some kind of lacquered wood. Within both crates were carefully wrapped items. Undoubtedly our pieces of hams and bacon slices.

“All set,” the woman happily declared as the two younger men quickly retreated back to the rear of the store, as if afraid of being yelled at any more.

Glancing to the sign on the right, I quickly calculated the cost of the food before me. A little steep, even for the time of year, but who was I to complain?

Renn stepped towards the counter, excitedly. She grabbed the crate with the lesser amount of items inside it, and I was glad she did. I knew she was far stronger than any human woman, especially of her size, but she still needed to act as if she wasn't. Humans always noticed things like that.

“I can smell the deliciousness already!” Renn said happily, which brought a larger smile to the woman's face.

“Indeed you can! I soaked them'in some nice honey. You'll enjoy it, I'm sure,” the woman seemed more than happy to accept the praise.

Renn stood up a little straighter, and I knew if I peeled back her larger jacket a tad, I'd be able to make out the shifting of her tail beneath her pants.

Although I knew she really was excited about getting back, to eat the feast before her, I also knew it was her way of masking her inner turmoil. It was best to hide such internal discord with movement and action.

I had said it now on purpose, to see how well she took emotional news. Especially bad news.

She took it well. Either she was a true predator, and didn't care much of the deaths of strangers, or was stern enough to keep the sorrow inside.

Either way would give her a passing mark in my book.

“Fourteen renk, right?” I asked the woman, holding my closed fist out over the counter and boxes so she could grab them.

“Huh? Twelve, my good friend! You'd think I'd charge such an old family friend full price? The nerve!” the woman loudly spoke, but did so with a smile. She wasn't that offended.

“All the same. Especially since I might be in here tomorrow, asking for more, and maybe I'll want to be remembered,” I said, hoping she'd just take them. I probably looked dumb with my arm extended like it was, over the crate.

“Oh, I'll just put it on Lughes's tab,” the woman said, waving the coins away.

“It's my fault for showing up unannounced. Least I can do is pay for dinner,” I said, and decided to just put the coins on the counter.

A little rude, but I wasn't in the mood to spend the next few minutes arguing with her.

“Jeez, I wish my boys were as upright as you! Hear that! That's what the younger generation is supposed to do! Lazy oafs!” the woman yelled back, and I could hear her honesty in her joke. She wasn't really joking.

Picking the crate up, I nodded to Renn.

“Have a good day Harren,” the woman next to me said, waving as we left.

“You as well dear.”

Leaving the shop, I held the door open for the cat as she sauntered out. It was a little amusing to watch her walk. She was stiff, as if cold or had bruised muscles... yet I knew it was simply because she was worried.

Worried about me.

Or rather because of me.

I was used to such things. Especially when it came to meeting people for the first time.

One could only imagine what Lughes and the others had told her about me. That young human especially. She has never liked me. Wasn't her fault though. Her mother had been...

“Is... is she the only one? That's left?” Renn asked quietly. Too quiet. Even I had struggled to hear her over the wind.

“Survivor? Yes. I found her in a well,” I said.

“A... a well?”

Keeping an eye on her feet as we headed back to the Sleepy Artist, I made sure she didn't trip. The snow was starting to really pile up, and although there were no curbs on this road, that didn't mean there were no holes or stuff hidden beneath the layer of white. It'd not really damage the food, being wrapped, if she did trip and drop it, but...

“Don't make a big deal out of it. She's young enough that all it'd do is make her cry,” I said.

The woman glared at me for a moment, and I wondered if I had insulted her.

“She has a right to cry,” she said.

I nodded. “She does. And does, as well. Every night. But there's a reason that old goat is going to throw a feast, as he calls it, and do his best to be merry,” I said.

“To distract, giving her a few moments of joy,” Renn said, sighing.

Reaching the building, I studied the window for a moment. The painting in front, displayed proudly, was the same as it always had been. The same scene.

How many more times would I get to see it?

How many times will I walk through that door, hear the little bell that used to hang from that shepherd's staff, and then hear the happy greeting from the old goat? Or the grumpy one, that always accompanied a smile, from the Crane?

Odds were not many.

Glancing to the woman, I found her glaring at me. She was waiting for me to open the door for her.

“Do you know who I am?” I asked her.

She blinked, and her pupils contracted. Not too much. Nothing that a human would notice, but I saw it.

“You're Vim... the guardian. The protector, of the Non-Human Society,” she said.

I nodded. “Do you know who I protect?” I asked her.

“Us... I mean... our kind. Them,” she gestured with a nod, and I noted the odd tone. She was embarrassed to have included herself in that assessment.

“Indeed I do. I protect them from everything I can. Humans. The church. Other predators like ourselves, who eat our kind,” I said, and stepped towards her. Close enough the crates we carried bumped into one another.

She held firm, glaring at me with defiant eyes. Daring me to continue. Wanting me to.

A little surprised at her willingness to confront me, I smiled down at her.

Cat indeed.

“I'd not harm them. Never.” Her voice was as cold as the icicles that hung from the roof's gutter above us.

“No? Even though you so brazenly walk around in clothes of a lost culture? A civilization that hasn't existed for nearly two hundred years?” I asked her. Confronted her.

My eyes held hers. Especially as they contracted. Especially as the realization dawned upon her.

She nearly dropped the crate in her arms, as she turned to look downward. At her feet.

“So you do know,” I said, and did so on purpose.

“Wait! No! I...!” she shook.

“Humans are forgetful creatures. But they notice the odd. They notice the out of place. No one would recognize that symbol, but they would ask about it. Ask their teachers. Their scholars. The churchmen. And one of them would know. One of them would wonder. Then eventually it'll reach the ears of someone who knows of us. Who hunts us. What then?” I asked her coldly.

I was glad that the storm was growing stronger. We were alone not just on this street, but probably all the streets around us. No one would dare this storm willingly.

The woman suddenly looked younger. Her appearance betrayed her years. She looked like a young woman, still not old enough to have children. Especially with such vivid emotion on her face. The tears in her eyes. The freight in her expression.

“I protect them. From danger. Of all kinds,” I said sternly.

She faltered. The crate slipped from her right hand. But I was ready. I had positioned my own crate just under hers, on purpose. Catching it easily, I held it firm as she hurriedly tried to regain balance. Regain composure. She quickly picked the crate back up, and then looked up at me. Tear streaks stained her face. They glistened, and I knew they probably felt hot on her cheeks out here in this cold.

“I'm sorry,” she whispered.

“Are you?”

“Yes! I... I hadn't thought of that. I should have. I'm so sorry!”

Although her words were full of emotion, pure and real emotion, it was her eyes that told me the truth.

As blurry as they were. As pained as they were...

They still held my own.

“Hm. I believe you. Tomorrow we'll go get you new clothes, and burn those,” I said, and with a nod turned to open the door.

“Wait! Wha...” ignoring her outburst, I gestured for her to get into the house already.

“My bacon is going to freeze if you don't hurry,” I ushered her.

Standing there with a shocked expression, I wondered how many different faces she was capable of. It wasn't often I found a woman, a non-human one, that was so expressive. Lomi was, but she was a child. Even her, being a fox, would grow to become a little too stoic.

A byproduct of our long lifespans. Even though so many of us looked young, inside we were all still old. Old and weary.

“Wait... you're... not angry? At me?” she asked, stepping forward.

“Should I be?”

“I endangered them!” she shouted. I knew Crane had probably heard her. Lughes was too old. But I hadn't heard enough terror in her distressed shout to worry about Crane rushing out to see what was happening. Shelldon probably heard too, but I knew even if he heard true fear or terror he'd not come out to assess or save anyone. He was a coward.

“You did. Right now you're letting all the hot air out, and Crane gets her feathers ruffled when we do that, so come on,” I said, gesturing for her to hurry.

She grumbled, but followed my order. Stepping into the building, I released a small sigh and closed the door behind us. Women, human or not, were always so...

“Vim.”

The woman paused in front of me, and turned. Stopping me from venturing further into the building. I didn't see anyone, but I could now hear everyone deeper in the back. Lomi's laugh was soothing to the soul.

“Hm?”

“I... I really am sorry. I hadn't thought of such a thing. I should have. I'm old enough, wise enough, that I should have realized my clothes were not only outdated but unique. I'm sorry,” she said, speaking from the heart.

“We will correct it. And you'll not do such a thing again, will you?” I asked her.

“I won't! Not... not intentionally, at least,” she said, looking away.

“You worry there's other things you're missing. Don't worry, I'll point them out when I see or hear them. I'm pretty good at pointing out the obvious,” I said.

She hesitated, and I enjoyed the look in her eyes.

That wasn't just fear, and pain, but anger. Anger at herself.

Seemed I wasn't going to have to kill her.

Not yet at least.

“I... I have so many questions,” she whispered, and seemed to be agitated. As if she didn't know what to say or where to start.

“Ask away. Though do be careful. Some questions bring pain,” I warned, and stepped forward. Forcing her to step back, if anything thanks to instinct.

Walking past her, I headed to the kitchens. Leaving the woman behind, who grumbled wordlessly in annoyance.

I'd study her more later. I had time. We'd be here for awhile. Maybe even until the snowstorm passes.

Instead I had another question I needed answered.

Passing the painting that had caught my eye, I once again noted the symbol at the top. Plastered upon a lone church, off in the distance in what looked to be any ordinary village that farmed wheat.

The sight of the symbol made me upset, so I stopped looking at it.

I knew that whoever had painted it, it looked to be Amber's work, hadn't known what that symbol meant. Neither would Lughes, or Crane. Not even Shelldon, for all his cowardly wisdom.

None of them could or would.

It was the symbol that marked the end, after all.

Heralding our extinction.

And there was nothing they could do to stop it.

Not even I could.