[Past].

It was a stun to Annabelle and Nord whenever their second child was born. She was a beautiful, healthy baby, but upon her back sprouted two tiny growths, almost like limbs, covered in a bit of wet fuzz. By the age of 2 years old, they had completely sprouted with black, shining feathers, lined with fuzz that resembled a young chicken's wings.

By the age of 10 years old, Quince was learning to jump to great heights and fall without harm from the top of trees, which she loved to climb. By the age of 20 years, she could glide, and had officially changed from Keith to Quince. By the age of 35 years old, she could fly just like a hawk, and even carry large amounts of weight as she did so, including her dear friend Adolpha, who was then just barely 38 years old. Quince's wings grew just as she did, and ended up at a mighty 10 feet per wing when outstretched, giving her a wingspan of 20. Of course, it wasn't quite plausible that a Lycanthrope at 120lbs, 5' 2" could fly, even if the wings were an impressive 10 feet across; they, in theory, wouldn't be able to lift her body from the ground. And yet, by the magic of Mother Nature, they did, and almost effortlessly, too. The work was to be able to fly was done, and so, Quince could fly with exceptional ease. Quince did have to train, learning how to balance, how to drift in the wind, and having to build her breast muscles.

By the time she was 35 years old, she had developed quite the shape, which she still kept for years after. Her shoulders were noticeably large, her forearms strong; her chest strong and well-defined, much like a man. She acquainted her masculinity to her transgenderism, but everyone knew that it was because of her intense muscle and training. By the age of 35 years old, Quince was leaving her home, her people, and her village to participate in a quest that she had been destined for since the moment she was born with wings. But she had not been the only one destined for such a quest.

Not too long after Quince was born, a Feline was born in a faraway land to Feline parents. Like most Felines, they lived in high, rocky mountains, their villages built into the sides of plateaus, rocky cliff faces, or perhaps in caves, and far from the equator. Unlike Lycanthropes, Felines had been gifted with a natural-born pelt; thick cougar-like fur which covered their bodies and kept them warm, even in the intense cold, ice, and snow. They also had a unique sense of diet, being able to sustain themselves healthily as carnivores, and hunting for nearly every meal. Although they would jump at the chance for greens if possible, it was not a necessity for them to live healthily. And so, the Felines were able to hunt for every single meal, with no need for flat, fertile land to grow crops. For wool, leather, and meat, many villages farmed mountain goats and sheep: animals which didn't need much to survive, other than the small greens the mountains already provided. These unique adaptations led the Felines to live secluded and wealthy in the bitter cold, mountainous regions of the continent, far away from other tribes, and especially far away from war.

But the war came to them, whether they wanted to fight in it or not. It came to them the moment that Lillian and Kirk's son, Ajax, was born. The two Felines had several children before Ajax, all girls, who fawned over him being born. But it was soon realised that he was not an ordinary Feline, for Kirk was given a vision one night from Mother Nature herself, and her task for him was to bring his son to River's Bed: a village a hundred miles away.

Whenever his God called, Kirk answered, and so with a long journey, he brought his young son to River's Bed, leaving behind his wife and daughters. By the time he had arrived, his condition was less than well, having been injured in a landslide along the way, and at River's Bed, he died from the infection. In River's Bed, Ajax was suddenly declared an orphan, as he was too young to speak and too young to know where it is that he came from. Mayor Gabriel initially offered him a place in a community home, but most unusually, a family asked him personally if they could adopt him instead. Gabriel knew this family very well, as his daughters and their daughter were raised side-by-side as friends. Gabriel heard the call of Mother Nature as well, having spoken to and cared for Kirk in his last days, and so, he entrusted Ajax to Nord and Annabelle, where he was cared for with love. It wasn't long before his blessing began to show.

As a child, Ajax was both angry and sad. He was a difficult child. His blessing granted him emotional capabilities, allowing things to burn in his path whenever he grew angry, and the house to flood whenever he was upset. But by the age of 15 years old, he was able to largely control his emotions, and therefore, his blessing's powers, as well. He could calm himself with breathing techniques, and he quickly exchanged his anger and sadness for humour and an over-compensating ego. By the age of 35 years old, Ajax had complete control over his unique abilities and was ready for his quest, which he had been preparing for since he was born, alongside his loved sister, Quence.

Mayor Kelo heartily disagreed. He had led the village proudly and with intelligence, developing a close ally with Jasper by enhancing their trading routes. He'd contacted another village, Adam's Peak, and began trading routes with them, as well. Adam's Peak was not a local village, but instead was a smaller village of Felines that lived in the nearest mountain range. They were unique, for they lived closer to the equator than other Feline villages, such as the one that Ajax came from, and therefore could grow a small variety of winter-hearty crops. But more than this, Adam's Peak was known for the riches that resided beneath them, which the Felines mined and worked with a passion. In their mountain ranges, which could be seen in the far distance from River's Bed, but could not be seen at all from Jasper nor Virulent's Forest, they mined copper, tin, titanium, silver, and most of all iron, which they turned or combined into steel. To prepare for the war, River's Bed traded herbs and crops and insulating leather hides in exchange for precious metals.

After giving River's Bed a new light and hope, replenishing their reserves and strengthening their military, Kelo became a beloved Mayor, even through war and tragedy. But now, it was his task to send three children to their deaths.

"I'll not do it," he said.

A guardsman spoke to him, directly in his office of his public abode, "They are requesting to leave, sir... quite honestly, I doubt that your words will make them stay."

Kelo growled, placing a stiff, angry hand onto his desk, "I know! And what good will it do, to keep these kids from leaving, whenever they've been told since the moment they could hear that they are supposed to save us all! A mere 35 years old, they are! Being told that they are the ones to end this war!" He shook his head, disbelieving, "That stress, that horror? The weight of the world is on their shoulders, and I demand that it be not so! They can stay here, and our military will continue to fight the battle, just as they always had."

The guard lowered his gaze, darkening, "Mayor Kelo, if I may?"

He nodded, "Of course, you may speak." Kelo was that way; he never loured his power over his people. He did not ask them to bow to him. Instead, he bowed to them, and to their every will, their every need. Their every problem, he could try his best to fix. In most cases, he was successful. But this time... this time, he felt as if he was in a pit, beginning to drown and with no escape and no rescue.

"Our military has not been successful. Virulent's Forest continues to grow with darkening power. We need the help... we need Mother Nature in our ranks, while she is still here. If we wait any longer to send those children out, then her power will not be able to guide them."

"But those children are not Mother Nature! They are kids!" He slammed his fists on the table again with a loud bang, frustration boiling into hot anger. A pen rolled across the desk in the direction of his hands. His strong anger was directed at Virulent. No; not at Virulent; at Nautis. This was Nautis' fault. If not for him, then Mother Nature's passing would be peaceful, just as it should have been. But that damned Nautis, that damned evil, selfish God! And Kelo was suddenly fretting, cold and worried, for the thought of Mother Nature dying without her own peace was too much for him to bear. And he could not deny the guard's word: his men had been failing, had been dying at every battle, and although he remained hopeful and River's Bed kept strong, they could only afford to lose so many people in endless battles against Virulent's mighty Saurion forces. Even as wolves, the Lycanthropes stood little chance against the speed and wit of Saurions. Regardless, the Lycanthropes were outnumbered.

No; Mayor Kelo would not send those three children to their deaths, and he admittedly refused, and not for the the first time. But this time, he was positive with an idea that could end this whole damned war, and he was frustrated with himself for not considering it sooner. The Anthromorphs, of course, could change into any animal that they came into contact with, including Saurions. Upon Mayor Kelo's and Mayor Jillian's friendship and allyship, she had promised men for Kelo's military. And now, she was to deliver. The war's bloom was growing nearer, and Kelo would do all that he could to prevent those three poor children from going to their deaths.

And so, after his discussion with his trusted guard, he retired to sleep for the night; and then, the next morning, he mounted a mule and road the distance between River's Bed and Jasper. It hadn't been long since his last travel to Jasper, but then it was spring, and now it was once again winter. Kelo recalled the winter after the previous Mayor's death, and how vicious it had been; how their crops had been wiped, and the war had started with famine. River's Bed was still jolly, morale high, but their numbers had begun to dwindle after several battles in Virulent's Forest. Strangely, Virulent had not yet attacked River's Bed, instead focusing his power on the opposite side of Virulent's Forest, where he had already taken a large village known as Gradient that sat along the downstream of River Bed's own river. Gradient was a village of Lycanthropes, and they had failed to fight against the power of Virulent's Forest. Instead, they submitted; but no less blood was shed.

Mayor Kelo was met with the usual jest from Jasper's people, which he partook in for only a moment before pushing past them in urgency to meet with Mayor Jillian. With a sense of deja-vu, Kelo once again found himself in Jillian's professional abode, sitting in front of her on a sofa, a short table between them, the air chilled. Jillian had aged noticeably since he had first met her, growing long lines beneath her eyes and on the sides of her face. Her eyes were tired, dark circles beneath them.

"Your urgency, Mayor Kelo," she had said after their greetings. Her voice rumbled with age.

"Mayor Jillian," Kelo began, "At the beginning of our allyship, you offered some of your men to fight for River's Bed. Now, I come to heed that call."

"What battle are you fighting?"

He sighed, placing a hand to his forehead, "I'm fighting a battle against three damned kids."

Jillian chuckled, an old, hoarse chuckle, "I see. The blessed ones have finally decided to leave River's Bed?"

"Yes," Kelo said, shaking his head, blonde hair just as dirty as ever. "With the recent losses, and visions from Mother Nature, they believe that now is the right time."

"You cannot stop them."

"I can try."

Jillian took Kelo's hand, and in that moment, he saw how frail she had become, how far the war had aged her. Her hands were shaking, cold, and gnarled; her skin withered and weakened; and her hair was thin and white, flat against her head and down to her shoulders. His hands were calloused, but young and fresh, and so, Kelo heeded her wisdom, considering the great weight it held, for her 200 years had earned it.

"Mayor Kelo, and dear friend," Jillian began, her voice understanding and full of warmth, "Right now, there is no blood on your hands, no deaths in vain." Kelo winced, not knowing if what she said was true. The woman continued, "But if you prevent those three from fulfilling the destiny that Mother Nature has bestowed upon them, then the bloodshed that comes after will be on you."

Kelo sighed. He, too, was weighed down by the war, by the death. His eyes seemed a little too far sunken into his head, his face drearier than it had once been; his wrinkles beginning to show.

"I know that you're right," he said, "But if I send Gabriel's last remaining child to her death, then what would Mother Nature ever think of me?"

"Mother Nature would thank you," Jillian said, "For trusting her judgement."

Kelo leaned forward, placing his forehead to Jillian's, "My dear friend, you have never been wrong."

"Dare I say, the eve of our time together is coming to a close," Jillian said softly, looking up at Kelo with warm eyes.

He smiled in return, leaning back again, "I suppose it is."

"If you are here," she said, "Then you must at least stay the night. I don't think that I will be seeing you again, and tomorrow morning, I intend to retire."

"Retire? But, Mayor Jillian-"

She raised a hand, "Mayor Kelo, you are young and full of life... I am not. My time has come to retire. Jasper will always remain your dearest ally."

"And you, my dearest friend," he said in return, his chest aching with the familiar pain of grief, for he had never intended this trip to Jasper to be the last that he would see of Jillian.

"Stay," she said, "And share a smoke with me."

"I shall," Kelo said, "And I will enjoy our time together, even on the eve before the end or the beginning of everything." Kelo helped Jillian to her feet from the couch, where they then stepped out from the front door and onto the cool, muddy streets. The air was heavy with humid, and hung low.

"Kelo," Jillian said, her voice seeming even more frail and quiet against the background of chatter and noise from the busy evening village.

"Yes?" He lended her an arm to lean against as they walked at her slow pace. It pained him to see her so, and over the past thirty years, he had watched her become smaller, become paler, and become dimmer, and yet her mind was always intact; her intelligence and wisdom unmatched, and her wit as fiery as always.

"It is not Mother Nature that I truly believe in," she said, "But I do believe in the strength of those three children."

Kelo considered her words with care. The Anthromorph's way of thinking was so different from his own, and yet, he appreciated it, and chose to believe the same. If Mother Nature were to fail, then he would choose to believe that Adolpha, Quence, and Ajax could still prevail.

Through the streets they walked, leaving wet footprints behind, and as Jillian shivered, Kelo took off his fluffy coat and rested it over her shoulders. She pointed the way, and after just two turns, they arrived at the doorstep of her personal home. The wind picked up, and was awfully bitter in the dusk against their faces.

"My husband might be quite upset to see me bringing a handsome young man into the house," Jillian joked.

Kelo chuckled, "Oh, I have no doubt that he could take me down if he so chose."

"Oh, I've no doubt, either. But no need to fret; he's already retired for the night. He would throw a fit if he caught me smoking."

"You no longer smoke?" Kelo asked, peculiarly, opening the door for her.

"Haven't in quite some time," Jillian said, introducing Kelo to her home, wiping her shoes on a welcome mat. It was large, and fit for a king, no less, similar to what he had seen of Gabriel's old home. It had a tall, rounded ceiling, walls and floors of beautifully varnished wood, and every piece of furniture had elegant designs or lace trim upon it. The kitchen was tucked away neatly in a back corner, but itself was also large, with white counters and wood-carved cabinets.

Jillian retreated to her kitchen, opening an upper cabinet along the wall and pulling a pipe and some tobacco from it, along with a match. Then, she returned to the livingroom, where she gestured for Kelo to wipe his own shoes and sit down. He did not wear armour; not this time around. Instead, he wore loose leather clothes, and of course, that same crown upon his head, which was similar and yet so different from Jillian's own. As she sat down beside him on the soft sofa, she took off her crown and rested it on the coffee table for the last time. Kelo followed suit with his, but it would not be his last time. She lit the pipe, and soft smoke twirled to the ceiling with a pleasant aroma. They sat in leisure, chatting dully as they exchanged the pipe back and forth, puffing huffs of smoke. Kelo learned of Jillian's childhood, which was playful and warm, and her parents, who she wished she could see one last time.

Kelo thought of his own parents, still sound back in River's Bed. His father, a guardsman; his mother, an herbalist. He, too, had been given a wonderful life thus far, and for that he was eternally grateful. And then, he felt sorrow once again for the tragedy of Adolpha's childhood, and for her parents' untimely deaths. He spoke to Jillian of her caretaker, Ware, a sweet old woman who could spit just like Jillian could.

"I think that I would quite like her," Jillian said, to which Kelo laughed. The dusk turned to night, and soon, it was time for Jillian to sleep. Kelo could tell that the cold ached her bones, and so he helped her to bed with her husband, and then added wood to the fire burning in her livingroom. Then, he left, seeing himself outside and on the look for a room.

It didn't take long to find one. He came across a shabby but charming little inn on a main lane of Jasper, and they still had several rooms vacant. He chose the smallest with a full-size bed, and paid the inn's keeper in coin. There, he rested on a wonderfully plump bed, head twirling from the smoke.

Although he was concerned for the future, and longing suddenly to greet his parents at home and remind them of his love again, he rested relaxed and assured. For Kelo was well aware that back home, Adolpha's departure with River's Bed was well underway; and yet, the weight of the world was no longer on his shoulders. Instead, it was on hers; but not hers alone.

Adolpha knew, that damp, raining night, that it was not for lack of things tying her to River's Bed that she left. Her young daughter, May, sleeping at home on her bed still, soundly in her room, rain running down the window. Adolpha had asked Mayor Kelo in advance to look after her, but she knew truthfully that May could take care of herself. Adolpha also knew that she shouldn't have to. Not yet, not at her age. Walking out of River's Bed that raining night, Adolpha was glad to have Quence and Ajax beside her, even though she hated the idea of any harm coming to them. It was in that moment, just nearing River's Bed's borders, mud underfoot, that she promised she would do all that she could to protect them, even if it costed her life.

They had walked their mules to the border through the woods, dressed in insulating leather armour, bags with food and supplies carried on the bums of the mules. Each was armed with a sword. That first night, the three walked slow in the direction of Virulent's Forest, looking back over their shoulders frequently. But nobody in River's Bed was going to stop them from leaving, except for one: a certain Yakob, who was Adolpha's dearest and worst friend.

Adolpha had grown up with Yakob, and at a young age, taken a keen liking to him. He had always been kind and protective of her, and she appreciated the security that brought her, and the friendship he gave her. His mother, Ware, was a wonderful woman that cared greatly for Adolpha as a child, and who'd since gotten slow in her old age. Adolpha missed her dearly as she left River's Bed. Adolpha had also grown up alongside a certain Chase, but the two fell apart as Yakob seemed to stand between them. Living with Ware and her son, it was always the older Yakob who decided who came and who went; and soon, he decided that Chase was no longer allowed to play with him and Adolpha. She could never figure out exactly why Yakob and suddenly disliked him; then, she thought it might have been that Chase loved to take his toys.

Now, at the age of 38 years old, leaving River's Bed for the very first time, Adolpha knew. She did not realise it yet, but she knew. And she especially knew as Yakob had argued with her the previous day.

Yakob still lived with Ware in his community home, though she was out with friends at the time that Adolpha had come to give him her goodbyes.

"I'm leaving," was all that she had said. She didn't care to give him more of a goodbye than that, and the tension in the air was heavy. It was fear. Adolpha didn't recognise it at the time, but it was fear.

"What do you mean, you're leaving? You're in no condition to leave. You can't go out there. Who will take care of your daughter?" With every pounding step he'd neared her, standing in the door of his apartment, Adolpha had held her breath.

"It is the will of Mother Nature, and now it is time for I to go." She stood firm.

"No," Yakob had shaken his head, chuckling dryly, "No, you're not going. End of story. Let the others handle it. The Mayor has guards on Virulent. You don't need to go, and you're not going. That's all." The man was older than she, now considered an adult, and he had a shadow of stubble along his chin and above his lip. His hair was straight and dark brown, long to his shoulders and matching his eyes, his skin a deep tan. His clothes were typical; leather and fabric, greys, browns, and creams.

"You don't get to decide for me," Adolpha said. Not wanting to give him one more second, she turned to leave, and he had grabbed her upper arm with a sharp intensity, holding her back.

"No," Yakob said, "You're not going."

She tried to pull away, "I am."

He chuckled, towering over her with a lithe build, "And you're going to leave me here, all alone with May?"

"Mayor Kelo won't let you within a foot of my daughter," Adolpha hissed. His hand's grip tightened, his eyes narrowing sharply. A digging pain began to rise through her, her head pounding. She was already dressed in her gear, prepared to leave, wearing a leather armour tunic and pants, black boots, and most of all, a blade sheathed at her hip. With her free hand, she lightly tapped the hilt of it, tense and prepared.

"Your daughter?" Yakob glowered, "Don't you mean our daughter?"

"She's not you daughter, and never has been, Yakob!" The man forced Adolpha towards him, a stinging pressure on her upper arm then, and as he raised his opposing hand, Adolpha also raised hers. It was instinctual; a self-evident form of defense, but nonetheless nerve wrecking. With adrenaline and force, Adolpha had unsheathed and then lifted her blade, and it's end had met his throat. He froze, wide eyes staring down at her.

"You wouldn't dare," he said.

"I would," Adolpha said, knowing that she wouldn't. The blade wavered in her hand, the white reflection along it uneven.

Yakob's surprise melted away to amusement, and with the flat palm of his free hand, he slowly pushed the long blade's point away from his throat. Adolpha faltered, unable to react, simply watching as he moved it. She felt as though she'd fallen into the third person, no longer herself but rather a helpless bystandard, watching in horror. He chuckled as her hand fell and the end of the blade touched the floor.

"See, Adolpha," he'd said, "You can go, but you know that I will follow you. I love you, and so I will follow you to the ends of this world."

He let go of her arm, but it wouldn't be the last time, and her bruise would not be the last mark that he left there.