Thalira Estom, 17, Human-Hybrid Dryadkin (Wildborn)
Thalira's eyes snapped open, her heart hammering like a drum inside her chest. What is... happening? A prickling sensation danced across her skin, as if tiny fingers were skimming her arms and legs. Darkness wrapped around her, heavy and suffocating, but within seconds, her vision sharpened, revealing the familiar shapes of her surroundings—or something close enough.
Where am I?
A cold breeze kissed her skin, carrying the faint, earthy scent of damp soil and moss. Memories of the fall from the cliff surged forward, making her flinch. In one abrupt movement, she shot upright... only to slam her forehead into the low roof of the tent.
"Ow!"
Pain lanced across her skull, reverberating down her spine. She toppled sideways, her foot catching awkwardly on a mound of woven cloth, sending her sprawling onto the uneven ground.
"Anek simisi, Thalira."
A groggy, familiar voice murmured from the shadows, followed by a soft groan.
What are they saying?
Before she could respond, OWL appeared, floating beside her like a tiny, proud cloud hovering midair. The small puppy barked happily, tongue lolling, and fluffed up his misty fur like he was the hero of the hour.
Ok, ok... pipe down, Cloud.
OWL froze. Then tilted his head, ears perky.
I like that name.
Yvonne blinked—wait, I mean Thalira...?
"You heard me," Cloud confirmed, his voice a teasing lilt in the quiet night.
"Where am I?" she whispered, rubbing her throbbing leg, the uneven earth beneath her toes prickling with damp chill.
"You're in Crescentia," he replied.
Well, duh... I got shoved through a portal. Thanks for stating the obvious.
"You're the one who asked," Cloud added, fluttering up with a huff of indignation.
Thalira groaned, pressing her palms to the earth to steady herself. Ok. So, where exactly in Crescentia am I? And what did that voice just say?
With a faint shimmer, Cloud popped into a more formal pose, glasses sliding down his tiny cloud-nose, a minuscule tie now around his neck. A chart materialized beside him, glowing faintly.
"You are in Amorian, land of the Dryads," he announced proudly, pointing with a tiny paw. "The tribe your father mentioned—the one you are now part of—is a Wildborn tribe, human-dryad hybrids."
He flipped the chart with a flick, and diagrams of tall, slender figures with fur, horns, and deer-like markings appeared.
"Unlike traditional dryads, Wildborn have full hands and feet, enabling them to move freely. Most dryads... reject them."
Another chart appeared, showing nature-manipulating auras weaving around Wildborn figures.
"Abilities manifest slowly and differ per individual. They average six to seven feet in height. Their bodies often mirror the forests they inhabit—patches of soft fur, horns, and markings resembling woodland animals like deer."
Cloud adjusted his glasses again.
"This tribe is... struggling. Constantly relocating due to raids from other dryad clans. They have no official name and number twenty souls."
He tapped the chart.
"Thirteen adults—seven women, six men. Seven children—four boys, three girls. Including you."
He folded the chart, eyes bright.
"The women gather food and maintain the tribe. The men... contribute mostly through reproduction."
Thalira blinked slowly, her stomach twisting. They... what?
Cloud ignored her glare.
"Moving on."
He snapped his paw, and a digital file floated in front of her.
"Thalira Estom, seventeen in human years."
Where is he getting all this?
The charts and files vanished in a puff, leaving Cloud floating on her shoulder, grinning. "Trade secret."
"Thalira?" A soft voice called through the tent. "Mekami no mokono?"
What is that? she thought, frowning.
"Oh," Cloud said, tapping her throat gently. "Forgot your translator. There we go."
"Thalira, are you alright, my moonstone?"
"Yes," she answered, almost automatically. "I'm fine. I just wanted to wash my face."
The figure in the darkness shifted. Moonlight caught her features, revealing an older Wildborn woman.
She wore a long, woven cloth around her waist, adorned with carved bone beads and polished seeds. Feathers and pinecones swayed with each step. Layered necklaces of braided vines, shells, and wooden charms draped across her chest. Patches of soft fur traced her arms and collarbone.
"Come on," the woman said, reaching out.
Thalira hugged her knees, but then took the offered hand.
Stepping outside, the night air wrapped around her—soft, damp, and fragrant with moss and wet soil. The earth seemed to shift beneath her feet, almost like it recognized her presence. Tiny grains of dirt slipped between her toes, a gentle welcome from the forest itself.
What... is this?
"It's nothing serious," Cloud said casually, floating above her. "Your abilities are beginning to awaken. Your first affinity... appears to be earth."
"WHAT?!" she shouted, quickly covering her mouth.
"What's wrong with you?" the older woman hissed, pressing a finger to her lips.
"Don't wake the men at this hour. They'd... ugh, never mind."
Thalira froze, a thrill of disbelief crawling up her spine. I can manipulate... the earth?
They crept quietly toward the river, the forest alive with nocturnal sounds—the rustle of leaves, faint bird calls, and the distant splash of water. Her mind replayed the fall from the cliff, the boy she tried to save... and now this body, her new form.
Her aunt, Yesama, had horns. Not antlers like hers, but smooth, curved, goat-like, and elegant. Small, velvety ears peeked out from her hair.
This world... is ridiculous.
⸻
At the river, the cool water bit at her fingers as she scooped it up and splashed her face. Moonlight reflected in the ripples, catching her cinnamon-brown locs, adorned with tiny wooden charms and polished stones.
Small antlers sprouted from her head. Her ears were goat-shaped, slightly pointed. Hazel eyes glimmered in the moonlight, contrasted against warm brown skin. Speckled patterns, like a fawn's, adorned her cheeks and shoulders. Soft pale fur traced her forearms and calves.
Her woven forest-fiber dress hung off one shoulder, edges frayed and torn, blending seamlessly with the natural surroundings.
She is... beautiful, Thalira thought.
"Come," Yesama whispered, urgency in her voice. "Before the men begin their nightly checks."
She tugged Thalira's arm, guiding her back to the tents. Torchlight flickered across shadows, revealing the faces of sleeping Wildborn. Yesama collapsed onto her bed of dried leaves, and Thalira curled up beside her. The scratchy blanket of woven fibers grazed her skin, but she pulled it over herself anyway.
What awaits me here?
"Gender inequality and mistreatment," OWL said bluntly. He curled up beside her and promptly fell asleep.
Thalira followed shortly after.
⸻
"Thalira! Wake up! We have work to do!"
Yesama shook her relentlessly.
Thalira remained motionless, her body aching from the previous day's exertions.
Cloud had had enough. He produced a tiny alarm clock from his fur, ringing loudly. Only Thalira could hear it. She jerked awake, her muscles stiff, her chest rising quickly with each breath.
Bending slightly to accommodate her six-foot-seven frame, she folded the prickly plant-woven blanket neatly and placed it in the corner.
Yesama handed her a bamboo cup of water without a word.
"Use this to wash your face. The Groveborn have occupied the river."
The men, Thalira realized, watching the tents hum with early morning activity.
Outside, women carried baskets woven from roots, children ran between them, and others played nearby, oblivious to her presence. She tied her hair back, washing her face slowly, noting that the pale fur on her limbs was softer and lighter than she'd imagined.
Many of the tribe looked thin, underfed, but their movements were steady and purposeful.
She returned the cup to Yesama.
"Do we have a chief?" she asked.
"Yesama paused, organizing baskets. 'Not really,' she said softly. 'We simply survive as best we can.'"
The tribe, along with Thalira and her aunt, moved deeper into the forest for breakfast. Even though her Yesama was tall by human standards, she seemed shorter than the other tribe members.
I wish I had Wi-Fi, Thalira thought, letting a faint smirk curve her lips despite the looming challenges.