Apprentice Quiet-Dream awoke in relative comfort, squirreled away in a pile of clean blankets. It was cozy enough that it took a few minutes for him to remember getting ambushed and knocked out. The moment he did, however, he sprang to his feet in a panic, preparing to bolt.

  “You are safe, please calm yourself.” A rough scratching sound nearby conveyed a message, but the most it got Quiet-Dream to do was pause to take in his surroundings.

  He had been set up in a curtained-off corner of a nondescript room. White and gray brick walls and floors, with the light from outside the curtains being far dimmer and less steady than the lamps he was familiar with. Bowls of water and fresh fruit were set near where the curtains parted. He could smell only unfamiliar creatures, the sharp, slightly tangy scent of whatever kind of candles they were burning, and the lingering scent of his own damp fur.

  “How am I supposed to be calm when I was just attacked and kidnapped?” Quiet-Dream screeched, straining his tiny vocal cords to make as much of a racket as possible. “What about my kit? Did you take her, too? Or did you just leave her all alone?”

  “You should be calm because you will not be harmed, and the only option available to you right now is to sit there and wait.” The scratching of a claw on stone once again expressed the sentiment, along with a hint of annoyance. “Besides, we both know that it is not your kit.”

  “Don’t you dare–” The cries died in Quiet-Dream’s throat as he leapt through the curtains in front of him, fully intent on tackling whoever was out there, and instead coming face to face with the massive wall of armored, grayish-green scales that was the alligator curled up opposite his little privacy shelter. The enormous reptile took up an entire half of the room they were in and blocked the only exit through sheer size alone.

  “I will dare to express whatever I wish,” the alligator said, idly scratching a single claw on the floor with complete apathy, the gentle laziness of it having been what made Quiet-Dream assume that it was a smaller creature putting in much more effort to remain anonymous. “Because I have been selected for the incredibly boring task of keeping you here by virtue of you being unable to move or harm me even if you wanted to. So forgive me if I do not have patience for misguided appeals to guilt and responsibility at the moment.”

  “...Why?” Quiet-Dream squeaked, curling up in a pathetic ball as his adrenaline-fueled frenzy faded. “Why are you doing this? Why me?”

  “There, that is a more reasonable reaction.” A rumble began in the alligator's throat as they shifted to face the crestfallen squirrel, one low enough to be felt more than heard. “You are here because you are not meant to be there. The Lead Guardian would have your kind waste away in captivity, in hopes that its precious status quo never shifts. You herald a great change, and it will come to pass, whether Rooted-Place wants it to or not.”

  “Go to Hell,” Quiet-Dream growled. “I’m not going to play the part of a revolutionary or a savior. Whatever you think I am, you’re wrong. Nothing good ever comes from one group of people claiming superiority over another, especially not outsiders. If you hold wisdom from my world in any sort of regard, then consider that.”

  “And that is the answer to your second question. You, more than any of your kind, comprehend what is at stake.”

  “What is that supposed to mean?”

  “I will take it from here, friend. You will not be able to explain what you need to.” A series of forceful knocks on the door interrupted the questioning, and the alligator awkwardly slid out of the way so that it could open. Standing outside was another lizard, one that Quiet-Dream recognized from his childhood in the American south-west: A Gila monster, or at least a related species. Much smaller than a Komodo dragon, though still plenty big by lizard standards, with bumpy, gray and black-striped scales. “Follow me, please.”

  The lizard turned and began to walk away, with the alligator using their tail to shove Quiet-Dream out the door after them. Lacking any other options, the squirrel followed, taking in his surroundings in the hopes of discovering an escape route. Unfortunately, it quickly became obvious that they were in a cellar of some sort, one with multiple covered tunnel entrances of various sizes dug into the walls and a single hatch leading above ground that was currently closed. The entire place was lit by crude dipped candles made of an odd pale green wax.

  “I hope Adamant-Gaze did not bother you too much. It has little patience for ignorance, even if there is no possible way for someone to know what it knows.” The lizard hissed in seeming exasperation. It seemed that the alligator had not been their preferred choice of prison guard.

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  “No more bothersome than being drugged and abducted,” Quiet-Dream spat back, to which his captor had no reply.

  As they reached the center of the main chamber, a small platform of wood on which rested various documents and writing implements, Quiet-Dream noticed that the lizard made a familiar tapping sound with each step, the source of which was their prosthetic left-hind leg. It was relatively simple, consisting of a solid wooden rod with a flat metal cap on the end, affixed just below the hip with a leather harness. He had been so caught up in looking for an exit that he hadn’t even taken a close look at the person in front of him.

  “You were there when I was kidnapped, giving orders. I could hear your leg.”

  “I was.” The lizard huffed and turned around, gesturing to an open spot where some cloth had been laid down. “Are you going to make unfounded accusations and condemn me for my actions? Or are you going to wait until you have all the relevant context?”

  “Fine.” Quiet-Dream took the offered seat and locked eyes with his kidnapper. “You said that you would explain, so explain.” There was no point in arguing here, but he could no more pretend to be friendly in this situation than he could claim to be a fish.

  “My name is Hope. I am a human, like you.”

  Quiet-Dream blinked several times, not in disbelief, but because he was entirely unprepared for the possibility. Hope gave him a few seconds to process that information before continuing.

  “The purpose of your kidnapping is to force Lead Guardian Rooted-Place to act, because it knows something important about us, but I do not know what. How it responds to an open rejection of its authority and some very pointed messaging will help us uncover it. As for why we picked you, specifically,” Hope reached for one of the nearby papers and showed it to him. It was a copy of the Consensus transcript he had made a few days ago. “You were the first of the captive humans to publicly respond to the increased interest in our unique knowledge, and you didn’t try to leverage that interest to your own benefit.”

  “You were distributing all that information about us… as bait?”

  “Not bait for you, it was just another way we could put pressure on the Guardians to act. Realizing that you and I have a lot in common, though? That was an unexpected bonus.”

  “And yet you’re the one working with rebels to further ‘our’ cause.” Quiet-Dream glared at the lizard. “Whoever roped you into this must have promised a lot.”

  “Would you… like to see them? They may be able to answer your questions about my motives better than I can.” The offer was strange, but the thing that actually caught Quiet-Dream’s attention was just how reluctant and conflicted Hope seemed to be about it. For just a moment, a practiced emotional facade had slipped, and something deeply sad had slipped through.

  “Okay, sure. Just no more bags over the head, please?”

  “I’ll try, but no promises.” Despite being structured like a joke, the expression very much was not. Quiet-Dream was to be on his best behavior, and he would be restrained again if he wasn’t.

  Hope led Quiet-Dream over to a set of shallow stairs leading to the hatch in the cellar roof and pulled a string hanging from it with their mouth. He could just barely hear the tinkling of a small bell above them, and after a few tense moments the wooden panel was lifted and shoved aside.

  Despite the low height of the stairs, Hope still struggled a bit, with their fake leg catching on an edge halfway up. They stumbled and nearly whacked Quiet-Dream with their tail as they caught their balance.

  “Damn it,” Hope hissed, shifting their weight as it became apparent that their leg-stump had become dislodged from the prosthetic, which now dangled uselessly from their hip.

  “Hold still, let me help.” Quiet-Dream moved up to assist without waiting for an answer. Hope didn’t give one, but patiently held their position as the Apprentice’s nimble paws worked the straps and buckles, which weren’t dissimilar to his old kit carrier.

  “That’s as good as I’m going to get it, I think,” Quiet-Dream chirped after a few minutes of fiddling. “The socket for your leg doesn’t seem to fit quite right.”

  “Feels secure enough for now, at least. Thanks.” Hope sighed before finally continuing the short climb out of the cellar. “I have grown a fair bit since I last had this thing fitted, so this was bound to happen sooner or later.”

  “Yeah, that makes…” The squirrel trailed off and paused just before the top of the stairs, realizing that it absolutely did not make sense. “Wait, you’ve… grown? That quickly?”

  “No.” Hope rumbled their blunt response, lightly thumping their tail against the wall next to them. They were laughing. “I lost my leg in a feral predator attack during my first year in this body.”

  “Your first year…” Quiet-Dream’s heart sank as he picked up on the implication.

  “We arrived here fifteen years ago, Quiet-Dream.” Hope finished their climb and turned around, reaching back down with their forelegs to pull the stunned squirrel the rest of the way. “You are only the most recent humans in this world, not the first.”

  The small closet they had emerged into was filled with the sounds of numerous creatures moving about and chatting just outside its curtain, but Quiet-Dream couldn’t bring himself to pay attention to any of it.

  “You said ‘we,’” Quiet-Dream stated, swishing his tail nervously rather than make a sound. He was holding his breath, dreading the answer to his next question. “Where are the others?”

  “I am taking you to see them.” Hope hung their head and began to walk towards the curtain, any amusement in their tone vanishing in an instant. “We are going to visit their graves.”

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