Asena regretted wishing for so little. She got to shower, clean clothes, and even eat a hearty meal of flatbread, lamb curry, and rice. The agent led her to a hall set up like a dormitory lined with cots.

An elderly female searched their belongings. Asena set aside a plastic bag, pouch, and envelope with sketches on parchment. Each bolstered her ties to an imaginary family in Sudan. She'd purchased them from an artist in the marketplace near the Pyramids of Meroë.

She would've liked to carry her father's picture, but nomadic shifters of that region feared cameras and avoided having their photographs taken. The ten copies of Vic's latest snap had aided her in tracing her route. Now she depended on the soft copy in her email, cloud, and a hidden microchip in the necklace. She'd somehow managed without a phone and access to the greennet at her fingertips for so long.

'Welcome to the rogue life,' Moggie growled.

The crone frowned at the three totems Asena had bought while traveling from the Cape of Hope to here. She handled the packet containing the black garb decorated with beads carefully. Her late mother had worn it for her mating ceremony. She'd never met her mom. Vic's mom had hand-embroidered the other for both of them. The platina jewelry and four gold coins in the pouch were heirlooms; her inheritance. She'd not worn them in the new world, but they represented her heritage. Vic had carried hers along. So had Asena.

Within a few hours, ten females and two males joined them in the hall. Their excited chatter in pidgin told Asena they were seeking mates. Most were young, especially the twin sisters.

Another, Bebi, spoke fluent English. A lioness by her scent, she kept her distance, but her haughty gaze studied them all, and she seemed to look down on them.

Most avoided Duma, and the two lean males—Lycaon pictus or wild dogs, gave him looks that could kill.

Asena didn't have an issue with the hyenaoid. Where she grew up, sexual preferences were irrelevant. They followed the motto 'Be with whoever makes you happy.'. The beta of their pack and the principal of her school were gay. The alpha of their sister pack was bisexual; he had a male and female mate, which caused a bit of a stir when Asena was ten. Viola came out as a lesbian a year before they graduated and recently mated with a female.

Duma continued to talk her ear off, but unlike Vic, he didn't pester her to participate in the conversation.

A Bantu silver fox, cocooned within her wrap, arrived. She didn't speak, sat curled up in a corner, and refused to interact with anyone.

They all got a simple new duffle bag. Asena packed her belongings in it. The organizers supplied them with black track pants, shirts, and hoodies, along with new undergarments and toiletries. They all received a copy of their files and new identity papers. Now they were humans from Cairo. A large paper bag contained a coarse suede and fleece coat, a cardigan, new boots, gloves, and a woolen hat.

'Had to be Northern Europa. I will claw Vic's eyes out when we find her,' Moggie hissed in displeasure.

They didn't like the cold. Her species evolved in the desert and grasslands. They'd migrated to a pack in a warm state too, with mild winters.

Tendrils of fear tightened around Asena's chest. Why would Vic go to their traditional enemy's stronghold? Who else but aristocracy could afford to pay the price for such an elaborate operation? Or resort to such drastic measures to acquire suitable mating candidates? Or was this prostitution? Their potential destinations terrified her. Nothing her friend did made sense since she disappeared twenty-nine months ago. Why had Vic gone to such extremes to reach this continent? Was she safe? Even alive?

"Ugh, these are ugly," Duma commented, modeling the attire.

She paid no heed to his antics and wondered how much all this would cost them.

Asena brooded until a heavy-set, stern lady called her for a medical examination.

After giving her blood and urine samples, she underwent a whole body scan and ultrasound. Then came an x-ray. The staff did their jobs with clinical efficiency. Asena noted the fancy, clean equipment from a brand called Ursa-Lycos. She made note of the logo, which resembled a coat of arms with a boar.

Upon returning to the communal quarters, she lay down on the bed assigned to her. She watched the matronly leopard lead a sobbing young female away. She begged for another chance, but a genetic defect deemed her unsuitable.

The other applicants pretended to sleep until she left. Then the whispers began. Between the cots, the agents sat on chairs to keep watch on their wares. The constant supervision ought to worry her, yet it didn't. They were doing their job. Her sudden complacency with the insane situation should've left her petrified. Maybe exhaustion had addled her brain.

She didn't catch a wink until Duma shook her foot. It was early. Even the birds still slumbered. In silence, they dressed and had a light breakfast of spicy catfish stew with durra kissra. Not a fan of the thin-leavened bread made from fermented sorghum flour, she still ate her fill. The last year had taught her, irrespective of taste and texture, never to reject food. Vans ferried them to the docks as the skies grayed.

The bald agent waited for them when they stopped. He collected their papers. A sleepy human guard checked the documents at the docks, and they boarded a yacht.

The agent handed out pills for seasickness. Asena took them, but the others, including Duma, refused. They shared the orthodox shifters' distrust of modern medicines. She wondered why the agents hadn't vaccinated them. But the shifter inoculations were shockingly expensive everywhere.

The vessel moved slowly until the whirling motor fell silent.

"You should stay in the cabins," said the agent.

Asena drank in a draught of the briny breeze. When she voiced her preference, a sailor directed her to the bow and ordered her to strap on a life jacket before she sat down on the deck, with her legs hanging off and her arms draped on the rails.

She held the steel railing, admiring the most glorious sunrise she'd ever witnessed. The waters mirrored and magnified the orange ball emerging from the hues spilling along the horizon.

When the shore disappeared, the team of five shouted orders as they unfurled the sails. "Kneeling!" one warned.

If not for the belt anchoring her to the railing, Asena would have slid off the tilting deck and plunged into the dark depths. In the open seas, the boat picked up speed to 75 miles per hour. The endless expanse, the warm sunlight, gusts of cool wind, and splashes of playful waves distracted her. She even kept down the light salad served for lunch, too. From time to time, dolphins, whales, and orcas emerged to swim alongside the sleek sides.

Compared to her previous journeys, this trip was bliss. She'd bought tickets on a huge cruise ship filled with humans to Trindade, Brazil. The inedible food had made her sick. The second time, as a stowaway on a tanker ship, she'd hidden in a container. In the stormy seas, she'd thrown up for days until they docked and lost half her body weight.

When she went below to use the bathroom, most of her fellow applicants were green around the gills too. "Should've had the meds," she said, patting Duma's back as he hugged a bucket.

The sunset evoked a longing she couldn't explain. Transfixed, Asena admired the bright stars at night. The Milky Way was much closer and the crescent moon bigger than it was at home.

Home. 

The nostalgia the word evoked was painful.

She left her home, a safe cocoon, where she belonged, knew her place and the others did too. They wanted for nothing. Why would anyone want to give it up? Yet Vic had. 

Since leaving, Asena had traveled with the humans, walked across the Old Country of her ancestors, and crossed two oceans. The world was bigger, harsher, and stranger than she'd imagined.

 Yet she couldn't deny experiencing an odd sensation. Moments like this she didn't feel lost, but that she was meant to find something more than Vic; something she couldn't grasp. She'd know when she found it.

"Hiraeth, that's the word," she muttered.

After leaving her home, she'd been afflicted by a nostalgic longing for something elusive: a time, place, or person that felt like home but wasn't. It often pulled her in unknown directions. Maybe it no longer existed or never existed at all, maybe she was yet to encounter it.  She hoped she did.  

***

Have you ever experienced anything similar to hiraeth?  Would love to know how and what triggered that feeling.

Chapter four ought to pick up the pace... just struggling with editing the rough drafts. Sometimes I wonder why Sonara and I bother. Yet we persist. I couldn't do it without her. 

As readers, do repetitions of words and phrases really bother you?