“I...don’t know. Can’t remember anything, and I can’t think of anything...”
“Hmm...let’s call you, Feylin.” A rather confusing name, that earned Tyrus a look that matched it. “You’re a Feline-Morph; Feylin’s rather suiting.” And that just left even more questions, but on the upside, it meant he had a name at least...something others could call him.
...which...led to another question.
“What did you mean by others?”
“You and I aren’t the only ones to be confined to The Grounds. Many are like us; trapped in these...forms, and hunted for sport by that...being. So, as a result, we’ve grouped together, and formed a nomadic group...if we stay in one spot for too long, he may unleash the hounds to pursue us again.” A harrowing idea...hell, this was all so damn harrowing. First, he was turned into a female...whatever the hell he was, and now there was some thing hunting them?!
Just...what did he do to deserve this?!
Still, it didn’t take long to reach the location Tyrus mentioned; a massive clearing in the forest, with dozens of fiber tents erected about, and a few firepits about. And, of course, roaming about the large-scale camp were a lot like him; humanoid animals...though like Tyrus, they were all dressed in loincloths and cloth tops to preserve some modesty.
...he began to feel very underdressed...
Written by AGhostInTheMachine on 11 September 2018
So...the one hunting us is...?