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The smaller creatures didn’t look too intimidating. About the size of monkeys, although in various shapes. 

A raccoonish thing sporting a beard and long hair with a centre parting was busy hammering tent poles into the ground. 

A creature resembling a squirrel with a bushy tail but the face of one of those big-nosed monkeys scampered through branches, tying off vines that held up the roof of some kind of stall.

Some of them wore clothes—little waistcoats with pockets, or bandoliers with tools and weapons hanging from them—and I could see Flossie’s eyes expanding with glee. She was practically salivating at the prospect of grabbing one and giving him a cuddle. Right before he throttled her with his adorable human-like hands and ate her face.

The larger creatures were less endearing. Some of them were a mixture of human and beast, and not cute like a cat-girl with ears and tail and sexy human body. More like a large cat that decided to walk upright and bulked up in certain areas to be able to do it. Massive thighs, elongated feet, extra girth around the waist for balance. They looked odd, but more than capable of kicking the shit out of you.

Their hands tended to be the most human thing about them, and their faces the least.

There were also a number of more humanoid races, built like us but with very peculiar faces. They had eyes and ears and noses, as you would expect, but they were in odd proportions, or somehow warped to look more alien. The occasional tusk or horn added to their inhuman qualities.

New buildings appeared every few seconds. As we approached the village, so it reached out to envelop us.

Irregular bits of wood and branch were slammed into the ground, tied together and covered with animal hides. Fires were lit, food was roasted, cups were filled. 

The noise of banging and crashing as things went up (and occasionally fell down) was quickly replaced by shouts and laughter. Cries of those selling their wares—Grilled meat! Lucky totems! Leather belts!—filled the air. 

Everyone was busy, everyone was rushed off their feet. No one paid any attention to us.

Maybe they were used to seeing human prisoners. Maybe the five thousand soldiers who had disappeared from the fort had been brought through here and a couple more weren’t worth their attention. Whatever the reason, we followed Keezy through the haphazard pathways between newly raised shacks and tents without being abused or molested.

Dank smoke from a fire occasionally drifted into our path making us cough and tear up, or a couple of beastmen might shout for us to get out of the way as they hurried past carrying large buckets of water from the lake, but other than that no mind was paid to us.

Once we’d entered its boundary, the village seemed a lot bigger than it had as we approached. Possibly because it was constantly being added to. Keezy hadn’t said where exactly we were headed, but he seemed to be moving with purpose so we stuck close.

I started to notice some muttering behind us. As I looked back, some of the relentless industry had ceased to watch us. Their faces didn’t look welcoming, although I’m not sure you can ever look welcoming with three horns coming out of your forehead and a mouth full of shark teeth. 

We still had the weapons we had taken from the fort armoury. Keezy had never confiscated them, whether because other things had preoccupied his mind, or he just didn’t see us as a risk, armed or otherwise, I didn’t know. But even with sword and knife, I doubted we’d last more than a few seconds against these monsters.

Which may have been prejudice on my part. What reason did I have to assume they were violent, bloodthirsty savages? I mean, apart from the horns and the teeth and the growling.

I moved up a bit closer to Keezy. “If they attack us, you’re going to stop them, right?”

“It’s not you they’re concerned about,” said Keezy. 

When I took a closer look, I realised they were all glaring at the rear of our train. At Kungen. Fortunately, the weaving path we took quickly left our unsettled observers behind, although new ones replaced them after every bend. 

Our destination finally appeared ahead of us. Keezy didn’t say anything, but the size of the impromptu construct and the clamour around it suggested it was the hub of the village.

Fallen trees formed a bar with stumps acting as stools. Barrels of what was probably alcohol sat on top of each other. Drinks were being served and rapidly drunk. A band played music on homemade instruments in one corner. An unidentifiable animal roasted on a spit in another.

Keezy walked up to the bar. “Where’s Vamalyn?”

The woman (well, female wolf-person thing) behind the bar tilted her head at the gap between the barrels behind her.

“Give them drinks. Put it on my tab.” 

I realised I had no idea what they used for payment here. Coins? I also realised that it had suddenly gone very quiet. The raucous noise and activity had faded to nothing and all eyes were on us. Or rather, they were on Kungen.

“I know what you’re all thinking,” said Keezy. “I am going to talk to Vamalyn now to sort it out. Until then, the truce still holds. Even for him.” He looked around like he was daring anyone to disagree with him. No one said anything.

“Wait here,” said Keezy, like we might have plans to leave, and then he slipped behind the bar.

The wolfgirl placed a number of cups on the bar and filled them with a red-brown liquid. I decided to ignore the atmosphere of impending lynch mob and picked up a cup. There were bits floating in it and the sharp smell curled the hairs in my nose. You couldn’t really afford to be fussy when you were roughing it in a land full of monsters, so I necked it. 

It tasted a bit like mulled wine, but with bits in it. You might be thinking, but mulled wine has bits in it. Not that wriggle it doesn’t.

The others sat down alongside me and tried the drinks. Kungen slid away to the far end which was somewhat hidden behind a shrub, and sank into the shadows. Can’t say I blamed him. The atmosphere was still pretty murderous.

“What I think,” said Maurice, “is that this place is like Africa.”

I turned to look at him. Where was this going?

“When there’s a drought,” he continued, “all the animals gather around any waterhole that’s left, and they don’t fight or kill each other. Lions, zebra, wildebeest, hyenas—they all call a truce and leave each other alone while they drink. I think this place is like that.”

I looked around. There was an assortment of monsters, for sure. Would they try to eat each other if there wasn’t a truce in place?

“Poor Kungen,” said Flossie. “He looks so sad.”

“Yeah,” I said. “He’s a bit of a downer, isn’t he? The whole place was rocking until he turned up.”

“He’s like the troll version of you,” said Claire.

“Really? We’re surrounded by monsters, probably on our way to get killed by the boss monster, and you still think now’s the time to put the boot in?”


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