u/Far_Tennis_1954

Hello all! This chapter is coming out far sooner than originally planned! This is because the next three days for me will be too busy for me to routinely write, so I'm pumping this out fast! Have fun!

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[Private Historical Diary Log — Circa: 23rd of June 1921. Era of Frost.]

[Log of Elias Meier, Steward of New London.]

Five days. Five days of relentless patrol by the guard to find the creature, and nothing. Not a scrap of its wool found, oddly inhuman footprints in the snow, or even a scream from a civilian upon seeing it. Those who were aware of the creature's existence were beginning to feel unease, doubly so for those who believed in the lie of it being a serial killer on the loose. The populace was feeling the effects of the curfew, with many already sending letters to my office complaining about their businesses, too poor to afford an exception license, and as such, staying open past eight. It's slowly starting to create a snowball effect now, with many small businesses unable to keep the heat on due to them using the fact that most big stores close midday, while they only close late into the night.

It was because of this that I called upon an emergency meeting of the council, much to each faction's dislike. While the city has, in large part, stayed out of the businesses within it, exceptions have been made in the past, such as centralizing the alcohol industry to prevent over-reliance and addiction to it. It seems similar action will have to be taken now, and as much as the factions may despise being pulled away for an emergency meeting, I could care less about their feelings now. Everyone was arriving as I stood on the speaker platform, with people from each faction walking in from the east and west entrances. The curtains were open, letting in the cold blue light from outside, the window directly in front of me revealing the beating heart: the generator.

It was half an hour later when all one hundred delegates arrived, discussion already happening among them all. A pre-meeting vote had already occurred before their arrival, largely done by them reading over the proposed law at home, choosing yay or nay for it, before handing it over as they entered. It assisted in getting every delegate's opinion on the law in case they could not come to physically vote—and as such, it would be mailed instead—and for me to strategize. It was as I took some steps back from the tip of the platform that I was handed multiple pieces of paper, all detailing what I needed.

So far, the current ruling would lead to a failure in the vote if I left it as it was. Thirty-four against, forty-six hesitant, and only twenty for it. If I let this come to a final vote, any who were hesitant to agree with the passing of the law would quickly go against it if they saw how little support anyone wished to give for it. Even the faction I had represented before my time as the Steward, the New Londoners, were hesitant. Thankfully, just as the factions did much to sway me to them, it would be as simple as doing it back to them.

I stepped off the platform fully, walking on the ground floor and past some delegates of the thinkers as I did. Zhao and his Stalwarts would be impossible to convince to push their vote the other way; their support of Meritand Progresswould advocate letting the smaller businesses be consumed by those larger than them, since clearly they hadn't had the merit to survive. The Pilgrims, meanwhile, had put their full support behind the law, especially their head, Callum Baxter. Compared to someone like Jones or Zhao, he was pleasant to speak to, but his faction's hesitancy and sometimes outright refusal of industrialization left a bad taste in my mouth. A good man at heart, but a foolish one in his brain, I say. He and the Pilgrims had pushed back heavily when the first votes for schooling and machine-centric shifts were called forth, so much so that they nearly shut down an entire residential district.

I met with him then, where we talked for a day and a half about a way to prevent the upcoming riots in the district. He is a good man, I could tell, but he has a ruthlessness only Jones could replicate when he wishes for something. Manipulative, kind, ruthless, and yet at the same time understanding. The whiplash I got from each meeting with him made my brain whirl like a tornado, and I had a feeling it was on purpose. It was day two, right before the riot began, when I decided to subside and allow the Pilgrims their agenda at the next council meeting, where they pushed for the allowance of all outsiders in. Zhao wouldn't let me have a single day of peace for a week straight after that one.

Regardless, I weighed my options on who to talk to about pushing this law to pass. Mainly due to my simple wish to assist all people of the city equally and fairly, even if some less-than-honorable people would say otherwise. The New Londoners were out of the question, as I did not wish to use the fact that I technically am the head of the faction for my gain. Not for good reason, mind you; the last time I had called on the New London delegates, a smear campaign in the newspaper attempted to portray me as corrupt and have me removed. That was, of course, during the earlier days of the council, and now it's common practice to go out and attempt to swing the voting in your favor.

It left only one option: the Labourers. I needed sheer numbers to ensure a win, yet I also did not wish to be chained down by the favors of multiple factions, and the Labourers gave me what I wanted. Too many times at a council gathering have I believed in the idiocy that is the centrist, as the votes began to be cast, expecting them to light their candle. Many times it worked, but too many times the law died on the council floor, or one I wished to not come to fruition passed. I will ensure this time I have enough people willing to vote yes on this law rather than leave it up to chance.

Though the only way to get their support and a "yes" vote would require me to speak to Jones. I do not hate her; I find her surprisingly more tolerable than Zhao or Kuemper some days. Yet I find her... manipulative, extremely so. More than once, she has managed to manipulate and lie her way to get what she believed to be best for her faction and the people of New London. Even before I had her come in for a meeting to discuss the creature still running around in my streets, she had managed to uncover what it was and only disclosed such information after the explanation. I gutted my personnel advisors—not literally—and replaced them with more loyal ones since. I just feared what she'll think of next.

I spotted Jones rather quickly, some of the Labourer delegates having hushed conversations among themselves. Jones was already seated above them on a pew, her red coat being distinct enough compared to the rest of them, as they wore thinner coats with working equipment on their chests. They dispersed quickly when I got close, already guessing the conversation that was about to occur between her and me.

"Steward," she said, nodding her head as she stepped down from her seat. "I honestly expected you to discuss this with the New Londoners rather than me. What can the Labourers do for you?"

"Don't flatter me with such words, Jones. I am still hesitant to even speak to you after you managed to find this city's biggest kept secret," I whispered to her, which she only grinned at. "So, I wish to keep this conversation short. I am prepared to give you whatever the Labourers may want to vote yes on this law."

"A fair request. And you will uphold your promise?" I nodded, and the grin on her face made me nervous. "Simple then. Denounce the Stalwarts."

Her request made sense, yet I was hesitant to agree to it. Despite how much Zhao could be a pain to me, he was the second choice for Stalwart for a reason. He was an inspiring man, which is why I feared angering him so. If he felt threatened enough, it wouldn't take long for him to gather his supporters to perform a riot in a housing district, especially if the denouncement resulted in the Stalwarts losing seats on the council.

"Such a request is doable, yet I find myself... hesitant."

"Do not be such a coward, Meier," she said, whispering it this time. "I do not hate Zhao; I respect him, but that respect only goes up to that of a work colleague. I request what I do because it is necessary."

"Necessary, or perhaps you just wish to open some seats up on the council for yourselves?"

Jones grunted, not giving me a clear answer. "Regardless, you must think of the bigger picture here, no? With that... thing running around the city, if we find it and its kin, I doubt Zhao would be very open to them, no?"

She wasn't wrong; when Zhao and I had found the creature, such things came to light, as he was hostile from the first day. His calmness when he spoke of attacking first made me nervous. "Zhao will see with his own eyes when he must change, and I very much believe if we find more of those, he will."

"Bollocks!" I nearly shouted, but managed to keep my voice down to prevent eyes on us. "Zhao would never. It makes no sense for him to do such a thing given all he has voiced to me."

"It doesn't have to make sense, Steward. It could be just a way to make you seem bad, that you didn't notice the 'murderer' escaping with outside help. I mean, will you let Zhao pull the rug from under you to take the title of Steward for himself?"

I got close to Jones as she said it, all while she kept that grin on her face. She did not say anything, and despite my brain screaming at me as I felt it pulse under my skull, I made no move to do anything more. After a few more seconds, I backed away from her. "You will get your bloody denouncement, Jones."

The entire conversation had my heart pumping in my chest and sweat forming on my brow now. Such things shouldn't affect me so; it shouldn't! Yet, when I saw Zhao as I walked back to the stairs leading to my platform, my brain pulsed in my head even harder. I broke eye contact and tried to maintain my outward composure, to seem as if nothing was wrong. No one seemed to notice, too busy with conversations about the law to even see me as I passed by them.

"Damn Jones..." I grunted, trying to keep my head calm. "Let's get this bloody over with."

I looked over at my watch, and seeing the time of discussion coming to an end, made my way to the edge of the platform, and with a wave of my hand, a bell rang all throughout the hall. "Discussion is over! Voting will begin!"

The delegates hurried to move to their assigned seats, faction meeting with faction and sitting down. The curtains that let in all light were shut, engulfing much of the room in near darkness if not for the lamps on my platform. I could hear the hushed tones of some discussion in the darkness, yet when I raised my fist, it ended.

"We shall vote on passing the Bailout law for all small businesses of New London. Light your candles."

Immediately, dozens of candles were lit in the darkness, the ones who lit them showing their faces to the rest of the hall. The Pilgrim's side had row upon row of candles lit, with the Stalwarts still in darkness. And thankfully, much to my relief, the Labourers soon lit their candles one by one. When the first sets of candles stopped, those who remained neutral or unsure of their vote began to light their candles in solidarity. In the end, the voting concluded at fifty-three to forty-seven. When no more votes were cast after half a minute, the curtains were opened as the candles were tallied, and cheers were heard as those who had opposed it stood from their seats.

A bell above me began to ring, and the noise of a loudspeaker outside broke through it, announcing the results.

"The delegates have chosen! A new law is in effect!"

[Historical Diary Log — Circa: 25th of June 1921. Era of Frost.]

[Log of Tarva, Venlil representative of The City.]

Days. Weeks. So much time has passed that I have forgotten how long ago it was when we left. More have died since we found the beast in the snow; now less than half of the original group is left. Any that were siblings are dead by now, as one watched the other fall and refused to let go of the body, which fell soon after being carried. Kam is still alive, thankfully, and my body has yet to shut down from the cold, but I have lost some feeling in my paws.

I walked slowly to the last two remaining sleds we had, our supplies dwindling, but at least it made it easier to carry them. I could see their faces were all exhausted; even through the coats, I could see their ears and tails dropped. Kam was the only one with any sense of hope left in him, as he was in the front of the group, leading the way. It was when we came across a small cave, a wide entrance able to house everyone for rest.

When we made it inside, fires were set up as fast as possible to gain some warmth. I could see the tiredness in their eyes, covered in snow and frost, devoid of hope. I was starting to feel the same, the small bit of hope I had left dwindling like a fire. Kam came up to me soon after setting a fire, sitting next to me on the snow, as I stuffed my paws in my coat to try to regain feeling.

"I can see you're not holding up too well," he said, as I heard his tail switch behind me in the snow.

"Who in these conditions would be?" I said, but my voice was quiet, muted, tired from all this. "If this is what's going to happen to us, I would have preferred to die in some place a little familiar."

"Don't say that, Tarva. We may be down to below half our original numbers, but... we'll make it. Won't we?"

I couldn't respond to Kam when he asked that, let alone turn to look at him. I heard both desperation and hope in his voice, but I could tell it was running out. My head lulled to lean against Kam, just to relax for a moment.

"How do you think it's... like? Back in the city right now...?" I asked, just wanting him to take my mind off our circumstances.

"Right now? Piri's probably walking again, though I doubt anything happened to Jerulim. Really, it'd probably be the same as it's always been, just a few less people," he said.

"She's probably worried sick about us right now..." I responded, rubbing my eyes to get rid of the ice that formed around them. "I wish I had said something to her before we left, at least..."

"She needed to recover, Tarva. Stress on her like that, if she knew you were leaving, would have made it harder for her to do so."

"Maybe. But I doubt she'd still not feel stressed after finding out we left," I retorted.

Kam gave a single grunt in acknowledgment, and we both just sitsat there, not doing anything. It was like that for a while, as I just watched the remains of our group sit around fires. It was mainly all Venlil now, and a handful of Gojid. From fifty fifty-eight to merely twenty, the pain of watching us slowly be picked off by the cold hurt.

"Kam..." I muttered, and saw his ears twitch my way. "Do you think we're gonna die out here...?"

Kam didn't respond; he didn't say anything for the longest time. He fidgeted with his paws instead, his ears staying pointed up rather than dropping down to press against his skull. A conscious thing on his part, as it seemed that the fear of us dying out here was getting to him too, even if he did his best to not show it.

"Would you like for me to be honest, Tarva?" Hehe said, to which I quickly responded by twitching my ears ~~yes.~~in agreement. "Then... yeah. I guess we will."

"At least we... tried. To find a way to survive," I muttered to him, which he responded to by patting his paw against my shoulder. "If the older ones among us back in the city were right... at least our people won't be gone forever... wherever they are."

Kam didn't say anything, but I felt his paw on my shoulder tighten in its grip, and his body stiffened. I had the peace of mind that we had tried to do something, tried to save our people in some way or another from death. I was happy ~~,~~then; I tried, unlike the cowards back at the city, and I suppose that was enough for me then. I nearly closed my eyes, closed them for what would have been the last time before my ears heard it, it—shouting.

Opening my eyes again, I could see a Gojid standing, pointing to something outside the cave and to the snow beyond. Others were starting to rise and react as well, as shouts of confusion and shock rang out through the cave. My body was tired, but my brain still shot my muscles into action, and my limbs to stand. I pushed off Kam a bit to stand, then to used him for support for my weakening body to walk forward. The light from the back of the cave we were in shone in my eyes in a way I couldn't see what everyone was reacting to, so to walk out and into it was my only option.

When Kam helped me to the edge, my eyes slowly adjusted to what everyone was looking at. What I saw made my body twitch, my tail flicking up and about furiously as I tilted my head up. It was what we saw back in the snow, all those days ago, but standing before us. Its light shone down upon us as it stood there, unmoving. The hope I had felt when we found one in the snow was small, flimsy, but this... it was extraordinary. But my ears soon picked up something else, over a hilltop behind the metal beast which we could not see over.

Soon after, figures appeared overhead, and a large moving object soon followed. They came down the snowy hill quickly and easily, stopping just in front of the legs of the beast. People who looked nothing like us but were just as, if not more, equipped for the cold. I could see Kam's mouth hanging open slightly as he looked straight ahead at them. I pushed off him then, moving slowly in our small group to the front. For the first time, hope would not come from hopeful dreams.

It's me once again, I don't have anything to really say here now, aside that I finally got my ram. Blehhh. Though I am thinking of posting my kofi here at some point, but it feels a little rude and something more to earn money off some fanfics, so Ima just let it hang in the air for now.

Thank you SpacePaladin for the Universe and for all the support I've gotten ever since I started posting this and Frozen Nature. Knowing people really wait once a week to read either story helps to push me along to keep my passion of writing alive.

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I would be more scared at the scene around me if my stomach weren't in such a state. People lying on the ground, drugged out of their minds, didn't feel as scary when I could barely hold in my dinner. My foot nearly stepped on a needle as we walked and once again almost on a pile of something that came out of a body. A few glances were thrown our way, less so to Garrett or to the Gojid and more to the white-furred Venlil suddenly walking down the street. Despite the black markings on my wool that I had trouble getting out, all due to the explosion when we were originally captured, I still looked severely out of place since I forced other bits of wool to cover the damaged ones.

This damn Gojid and his stupid actions! Even if I didn't care too much for my wool appearance like my sisters did, I would have liked to still be clean. And for a pair of boots, the paw slips I normally wear outside the home are starting to break apart now. We only stopped walking when we hit a wall, which seemed to split the road in two. It was crudely made, but three Krakotl were perched upon it, looking down at us. The Gojid seemed calm, so I did my best to replicate it to not show any outward nervousness.

"This wall is one of the many that separates the outer from the inner city. Keeps the druggies out to not spoil the 'goods,' as the Krakotl say," the Gojid spoke, keeping his eyes upward. "Just have to wait for them to contact a sponsor, is all."

"Are the people rich enough that you would have sold us as slaves here?" Garrett said, still no doubt bitter about the circumstances that brought us all together. Truth be told, I would have thought he'd kill the Gojid by now, though there were many moments where I saw he considered it.

"And what is the talk of a... sponsor?" I said, adding myself into the conversation.

The Gojid huffed, ears rolling in a circle. "Goodness, you two love to talk. They're rich compared to the rabble out here. They're just the dealers, people who make the stuff, or the occasional actual worker. And for your information, the original plan was to sell you here to one man specifically. Though given I doubt you'll let me live if I back out of our deal, we'll be going to another source to procure our way out of here."

"And I need a sponsor because you can only come in if someone knows who you are on the other side that can vouch for you. That's how they keep their 'clients' out of their space. Thankfully, the original dealer I made to sell you two lives out here. Though the only person who knows me past these walls won't exactly... be easy."

Garrett didn't seem satisfied with the Gojid's words, nor was I, given how ominous the last sentence was. Though the Gojid seemed relaxed about whoever we're going to be sponsored by, apparently, then I suppose I have not much to worry about. The gate soon opened finally, with two armed Krakotl standing beside it. It wasn't for us, thankfully, as their guns were pointed at the few Krakotl behind us who thought they could run through us to make it inside. The streets and buildings on the other side were certainly nicer, a bit more clean, with the lack of needles covering the floor. But nothing to praise, really.

The Gojid guided us down the streets, moving out of the way of the odd vehicle here or there. Odd contraptions of bare metal and scrap, with Krakotl loading things onto the back of said trucks. It was all in crates, but some off to the side were open, filled with vials of... tar. I recoiled at seeing the black sludge and kept my eyes forward, straining them to keep focused on Garrett and the Gojid. The streets, though, weren't filled with as many people as back on the other side, but there were still people. Not clean-cut people, more hardened over the years through drugs, fighting, or both at the same time. Though there were some people fighting on the street.

"Who exactly here 'sponsored' you to let you in anyway?" Garrett asked, his hand gripping hard on the handgun in his pocket.

"Krakotl I did a deal with a while back. We won't get anything for free, and seeing we don't have anything really to trade except maybe her," the Gojid pointed a claw backward at me, but ignored my annoyed tail flick at him. "We'll have to do something else to get the supplies we need. A job, most likely."

The Gojid stopped in front of a building with some basic banners on the front of it, bright pink in color. A few Krakotl were guarding in front of it, who stopped us from getting any closer. The Gojid talked with them for a few moments, but he relinquished his guns and small flamethrower. Garrett and I had no choice but to do the same to go inside, and once they did, we were guided through. The building seemed to have once been some apartment building, with a flight of stairs going upward, with even some open space next to it. It seemed it was deliberately so that a Krakotl could just fly up to the next floor rather than walk up them.

But that was as nice as it got, as the rooms on the first floor on my left were filled with tables and beakers making something that I couldn't smell but tasted in my mouth. How wonderful. Some Krakotl were also strewn about, with some Krakotl coming onto others for explicit reasons, no doubt. Trash was thrown everywhere, more drugs as well, and I could have sworn I heard Krakotl screeching or moaning on a floor above me.

"Such depraved people... I can't wait till I get to go back home..." I thought to myself as they opened a door, revealing what looked like was once a spacious apartment, into... something.

The closest I could say it would be was a throne room or the coronation hall back at the Star Capital. I remember it from when I was a child when the recent Appointed Saint was coronated; it was grand, beautiful, sparkling in silver and gold. This, however, seemed more... animalistic in nature. Candles were the only things keeping it lit up, crudely fixed-up furniture was strewn about, with what seemed to be outfits thrown on top of them. Krakotl eyed us, and we eyed the floor to avoid stepping on anything that would puncture us. And at the end of the room, a single Krakotl sat in a chair at a desk. Pink-feathered and wearing the most ridiculous thing I have ever seen!

Talk about a dress. The neck was adorned with feathers upon feathers, puffed up as if it were some animal trying to impress a mate. They also wore what I could best describe as a 'trash crown,' fitted with random bits of jewels or shining metal. But I could also see glass vials of what looked like tar embedded in it, which made me feel worse in the stomach than I already did. The rest of the outfit seemed to be a mismatch of whatever, with different colors and patterns mixing together terribly. The Gojid got as close as he seemed comfortable to be, crossing his arms in a very human gesture.

The Gojid made clicking sounds and some form of screeching from his throat, and the Krakotl responded in kind, but was at least a little more easy on the ears. He pointed to Garrett, then to me, before the Krakotl shook their wing, seemingly in annoyance, before a whistle of a sigh escaped them.

"Nominid, if I had known you'd have me speaking in the Warden's tongue, I would have shot myself before you came into the room," the Gojid—Nominid if their words were true—tensed up, his quills raising in alarm before going back down again. I could see one of his eyes stare at me, then at Garrett, but he returned his gaze to the Krakotl.

"Well, this trip is an unscheduled one, Ms. Toinette... I'm simply here to ask if you had any work for my... associates and me," the Gojid strained out the last part, claws clicking together. "Anything will do, really..."

"Work? Oh, there's always so much work to be done around here, though I doubt you'd wish to get your claws in buckets to make me my tar to sell," she said. "Though I doubt that human and your little show Venlil would get their hands dirty doing much else."

"We'll take anything."

"My, eager, Nominid? Or just desperate?" Another Krakotl walked up to her, handing her a book, which she took in her claws, opening it up and flipping page after page. "Tell me, then. What is it in return that you would like from me as compensation for a job or two, hmm?"

"I need at least two to three months of supplies to make it to our destination: ammunition, food, water, filters, and if possible, a drawn-out map and a compass." The Krakotl didn't respond, simply writing something down in the book she held before turning more pages.

She made a small sound that sounded like one of annoyance before she closed her book and looked back at us. "It's a very nice change of pace to see you here without that little group you used to run around with, Nominid. Though it does limit you slightly given the little manpower you have now. But I do have two jobs that you can do to fill in the 'credit' needed for what you request."

Garrett and I were eyeing him now, but to his credit, he didn't even bother this time to react to our stares. Though I could see his tail flicking up and down in annoyance. "That is... fine... I would take anything I could to get out of this shithole. No offense."

"Oh? Well, I would have thought you came all the way here to syndicate territory just to see me," she was starting to move now, getting off her chair and sauntering over to the Gojid. He didn't react as she drew close, not even when she trailed a claw dangerously near some of his quills. "You know there was a time when you did."

She turned her right eye to Garrett and me. "He talks so much about wanting to leave this shithole, yet if I remember right, it was not even twenty years ago when he was in my bed, deep in my—"

"TOINETTE!" The Gojid screamed, causing the nearby guards to jump in surprise, not lifting their guns due to the Krakotl raised wing. She handed the Gojid a piece of paper before walking back to her chair and sitting down.

"In that is instructions to help guard a stash of mine. Thieves have been getting a little bolder, but most of my men and women are doing nothing but fornicating and pleasuring themselves with my product. Guard it till a truck picks it up, then come back here to receive your second job."

We didn't talk as we walked down the street, the Gojid focused on the piece of paper in his claws. He hadn't said a word since we exited the building, and Garrett had been glancing at him and then at me since then. Garrett seemed intrigued by what we learned from that 'Toinette' Krakotl, while I felt too uncomfortable even imagining confronting him about that.

"The more I find out about this man, the more I wish I had listened to my father's suggestion," I thought to myself, daydreaming about home as my body absentmindedly followed him, Nominid.

My position as a secretary for the Warden of the Darkside Tunnel District was only due to me begging my father for such a position. Our family was of high standing, regal and among the legendary families of the Wardens. Each one had traceable family lineages from the time of the founding, for hundreds of years. It was until I came along, my mother having an affair with a green Lummen Venlil, resulting in me. I haven't seen my mother since I was a child, taken away for the crime of sub-species crossbreeding. I was sure my father would have done the same when I was but a pup, but he treated me normally. I grew to be educated, well-rehearsed, able to play instruments and more.

My sisters weren't cruel; they were as kind as they could be, but I could always tell how they thought of me. Unlike my father, they avoided me at social gatherings, even as they aged, too embarrassed or ashamed to be associated with me. Father supported me all the way through them and more so. Yet he was afraid to allow me to do much of anything outside the home, fearing for my safety for being a White Lummen Venlil, the first in seemingly ever. But I kept begging to do anything, to prove useful to him, and he reluctantly agreed. It's how I found work under Warden Nultz, a friend of my father's who no doubt agreed to take me on to keep an eye on me. Though it seems my decisions have now resulted in my current living standards...

"Oh? Well, I would have thought you came all the way here to syndicate territory just to see me," she was starting to move now, getting off her chair and sauntering over to the Gojid. He didn't react as she drew close, not even when she trailed a claw dangerously near some of his quills. "You know there was a time when you did."

She turned her right eye to Garrett and me. "He talks so much about wanting to leave this shithole, yet if I remember right, it was not even twenty years ago when he was in my bed, deep in my-“

"TOINETTE!" The Gojid screamed, causing the nearby guards to jump in surprise, not lifting their guns until the Krakotl raised her wing. She handed the Gojid a piece of paper before walking back to her chair and sitting down.

"In that is instructions to help guard a stash of mine. Thieves have been getting a little bolder, but most of my men and women are doing nothing but fornicating and pleasuring themselves with my product. Guard it until a truck arrives to take it off your hands, then come back here to receive your second job."

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We didn't talk as we walked down the street, the Gojid focused on the piece of paper in his claws. He hadn't said a word since we exited the building, and Garrett had been glancing at him and then at me since then. Garrett seemed intrigued by what we learned from that 'Toinette' Krakotl, while I felt too uncomfortable even imagining confronting him about that.

"The more I find out about this man, the more I wish I had listened to my father's suggestion," I thought to myself, daydreaming about home as my body absentmindedly followed him, Nominid.

My position as a secretary for the Warden of the Darkside Tunnel District was only due to me begging my father for such a position. Our family was of high standing, regal and among the legendary families of the Wardens. Each one had traceable family lineages from the time of the founding, for hundreds of years. It was until I came along, my mother having an affair with a green Lummen Venlil, resulting in me. I haven't seen my mother since I was a child, taken away for the crime of sub-species crossbreeding. I was sure my father would have done the same when I was but a pup, but he treated me normally. I grew to be educated, well-rehearsed, able to play instruments and more.

My sisters weren't cruel; they were as kind as they could be, but I could always tell how they thought of me. Unlike my father, they avoided me at social gatherings, even as they aged, too embarrassed or ashamed to be associated with me. Father supported me all the way through them and more so. Yet he was afraid to allow me to do much of anything outside the home, fearing for my safety for being a White Lummen Venlil, the first in seemingly ever. But I kept begging to do anything, to prove useful to him, and he reluctantly agreed. It's how I found work under Warden Nultz, a friend of my father's who no doubt agreed to take me on to keep an eye on me. Though it seems my decisions have now resulted in my current living standards...

His words confused me. I understood why it is good to help people, yes, but in my own case, there would have been programs in place back in Warden territory. I don't know if those same measures are in place in human territory, but they must be! Also, something about his speech, talking of helping people regardless of his privileged life, felt...

"That sounds... selfish." My words had Garrett staring directly at me, and for the first time ever, his gaze triggered an almost primal fear in me. My tail stiffened and my ears perked up, but I quickly forced them to comply and not be affected by my instincts.

"You think it's... selfish...?"

"Uh, to me, a little. Your father had a lot of influence. Why didn't you use him as a way to help your people?" I questioned. "Like... money, or a way to help them get better? Like, work and things?" I felt nervous even as I said it; Garrett looked at me in such a way I couldn't even understand.

"Use his influence? Frueit, you don't know my father! He would have never agreed to such things!" He nearly shouted, amplified by the echoing of the building, even catching Nominid's attention. "He'd berate me about how foolish those ideas would be and a waste of money on his part."

"But... did you try?"

This seemed to only anger him, his teeth bared and snarling. He didn't come toward me, but his face was contorted in a way humans express anger. He wanted to say something; his mouth opened, yet nothing came out. He looked away, fists clenched and his breathing heavy, so I stayed quiet to give him a moment. When he turned back to me, he calmed himself, sitting on a closed crate with a hand rubbing his hair.

"I... I didn't, okay? I just..." he sighed. "Just let it be, Frueit. I don't think I could respond clearly with the stress in my head right now."

I gave a slight flick of my tail to him and moved to sit next to Garrett. He didn't move, and surprisingly nodded his head to me, whispering a thank you.

"We've all been stressed. So, don't worry," I laid my tail across his back, thumping it a bit. "I know to wait."

Garrett nodded once more, appreciative of my tail thumping. "Thank you, Frueit. With how much shit we've been dragged through, I'm surprised I haven't snapped at someone yet. And, I'm a little surprised how you've kept your cool."

"Oh, I know how to keep this cool. I am not very stressed," I responded. "People say it's because I am a Venlil and not a Skalgan."

"Aren't those the same thing...?" he questioned.

I gave a whistle of a laugh, pausing my tail thumping against his back for a moment. "Of course not! It is believed Venlil and Skalgan are two smaller species of an even larger one. That is the species of our God Venlha!"

Garrett seemed even more confused by that, which comes as no surprise since the teachings of Venlha are only taught in Warden territory. Still, he nodded his head, content to agree with me.

"Thank you, Frueit. Again, at least. This conversation's gotten my head out of the fucking gutters of despair."

I flicked my ears, doing my best to imitate a human smile, but no doubt failing as Garrett snickered at it. "I try my best. You do not laugh at your allies for such things!"

"Whatever you say, Ms. Fruit."

"Frueit is a person, not a fruit!"

Told you Ima keep up a weekly schedule... aside from the fact i finally upgraded my pc recently. 1650 super to a 3060 ti, with an extra 32gb of ram! Im so goated. Regardless, I'm really thinking of getting some art done of my fanfics im writing up, though not any time soon, don't have any money to pay for a comm. Just typing out my thoughts. Side note, all humans are written with British english, bc it's funny and makes sense

Thanks to SpacePaladin for the NOP universe, and my friend which I force to watch my write.

[Prologue] - [Previous] - [Next]

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[Private Historical Diary Log — Circa: 19th of June 1921. Era of Frost.]

[Log of Marcel Fraser, Patrol Guard of New London.]

Day and night have we been sent out to look for the creature, digging through literal trash just for a scrap of evidence that it was there. Guards from all over New London have been moved to the central district to look for it, but those who hadn't seen it were kept that way; the risk of what it truly was spreading is too great. Of course, given I was one of the few guards permitted to see it when it was still asleep, and then after, watching it slam face-first in a tumble, I was allowed as much information as was needed to find it, with some light threatening if I were to go off blabbering about what I saw. Though, with the sun now setting and no reports from anyone about finding it, I was starting to lose hope. The damn thing probably won't survive the week with the injuries it sustained.

Now I was walking through the streets, the sun setting above the ridge, manoeuvring through crowds. Newspaper boys were already talking about the latest news, and given I was on my second break for a while, I reckoned I might as well spend it well. Giving the boy a single heat stamp, he handed a paper to me before going back to shout to the crowd of people walking by. Finding a bench was easy enough, and I rested my feet after such a grueling day, my eyes already guessing the front page as I opened it.

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-|KILLER ON THE LOOSE! PATROL GUARDS AND AIRSHIP YESTERDAY ANSWERED BY THE STEWARD|-

|The early morning of the 18th of June did not have residents awakening to the dull humming and churning of the generator, or their neighbors awakening for work. Instead, they awoke to the boots of patrol guards and an airship as close as it has ever been to the central district. The reason why this occurred was finally answered earlier this morning by the Steward, surrounded by guardsmen and heads of each major faction in New London. He spoke the following:

-|A dangerous, mad criminal has escaped our custody and managed to evade our guards stationed to ensure he stays where he belongs. However, it is my belief he escaped with a benefactor, providing him with what he needed to escape us. This will not stand. I have already ordered guards to begin searching the streets, day and night, to locate him, and every exit out of the central district will be watched with five times the men. We have no reason to believe so far that he has escaped out of the central district; however, to ensure he causes no harm to the citizens of New London, a mandatory curfew for the central district will now be in effect until his capture. This is to ensure not only the safety of the people, but to ensure he is captured as soon as possible! Mark my words, we here will not rest until this mad murderer is captured and brought to justice!|-

|The reactions to such a proclamation by the Steward have shocked many already, as businesses that rely on staying open well into the night to combat bigger shops may be shoved out. When our reporter attempted to get a comment from the Steward regarding this issue, we were swiftly ignored and held back by his guard. Instead, we contacted Callum Baxter, head of the Pilgrims, for his opinion on the Steward's actions regarding the criminal:

-|The Steward has a very dangerous job to uphold, both in terms of survival and politics. However, his recent actions have made my fellow Pilgrims and me nervous about his future for the city, and this is just one of the many bricks placed upon it.|-

-|So would you say that you believe the Steward is doing badly at his job then?|- asked our reporter.

-|I believe he is doing what is needed for our people, but perhaps it is in the wrong direction. The Stalwarts and the New Londoners would have seen the criminal who escaped yesterday refurbished and reformed, then back in the factory. And for what? Efficiency? I mean no offense to the Steward, but if it were up to me, I would have banished that madman from the city. We as a people must adapt to the frost, but so far we have done no such thing. This whiteout coming for our city would not happen if we did not fight against it; we need to adapt to the frost rather than defeat it. It's foolish thinking."

-|Do you believe then that if the Captain had died, you would have made a better Steward?|-

-|At the time? No, no. Meier was chosen because he did things no one else wished to do. However, now his actions are questionable, nothing our great late captain would ever do. Slipping up on keeping a criminal in jail, sickening the people with biowaste facilities to stockpile food, or failing to uphold our request for a moss filtration tower. Mark my words, the Steward is planning something, I reckon. Something I'm not sure the average citizen will-|-

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The blaring of a horn interrupted my reading of the front page as I turned my head to the council building from where it came. Others were staring too, though many were already moving to enter their homes, guessing at its announcement.

"Curfew will soon be in effect! Citizens of the central district are to return home immediately! All essential shops and people are expected to outwardly wear their exception badges for the guard! And remember, the guard will keep your streets safe!"

People began to scurry hurriedly now, parents pulling on nagging children's hands as they complained all the way. At the very least, I could sit there and let my feet rest, continuing my reading as the noise of people slowly dwindled, bit by bit. Only when I finished the front of the newspaper did I stand back up, greeted by the sight of hurrying men and women alike, homes no doubt a little farther than they'd like. Most shops—and thus food places—would be closed now, but there was only one place I could rely on. I hoped.

Walking down a block and turning, I grinned as the light of the little hobble of a shop was still on, exception badge plastered on the door. Standing in front of the window next to the door, I knocked on the glass. A man shouted from behind the tinted glass, and a moment later, he pushed the window open with a grin. Bald, with a fat walrus moustache, he was the owner of the aptly named "Edward's Walrus." For the moustache, not the food.

"Gosh, surprised to see you here, Fraser! Been, what, a month?" he asked me, grinning ear to ear, which I returned.

"Well, I was busy with other work, then the whole thing happened early yesterday. Been here since by 'The Order of the Steward.' Or something, I guess," I responded, pulling a few heat stamps from my pocket. "Ehhh... prices ain't changed, have they?"

"Nay! Still eight for a plate. Havin' the classic then?"

I gave a grunt as I leaned against the open window, still a little surprised at the modifications he made to the shop. He came back a moment later, plate with utensils in hand. "Ere you are, lad, one Fish and Chips for ya."

I took the first bite of the fried fish, humming in delight as it was just as I remembered it being: crispy, thin, and worth the money. "Man, still can't believe you got an exception permit to keep your shop running after curfew."

"Well, I feed half the bloody patrol force in the district! Course they'll keep me open into the night!" he grinned. "You just do your job of catching that killer or whatever. The bastard is gonna do some real harm soon, no doubt."

I nodded along to his words, continuing to eat my food. The thought of what I saw was still on my mind, less so the creature and more the fall. No way it would live a week, let alone two days, with whatever injuries it got. We'll find its corpse before we find even a shred of evidence of where it may be. Finishing my plate took a few extra minutes, but when I did, I waved Edward goodbye and continued on my night. My break was no doubt ending, and I had only a few more hours of this before I could finally head home and sleep till the next day.

My lamp slung over my neck illuminated the first alleyway I went down, checking every nook and corner and every rubbish bin I found. I found nothing—not surprising in the slightest; it just meant another few hours of rummaging around. Closing another bin and finding nothing but empty tins and ash, I rubbed my face, not even caring how dirty my glove was. I mean, technically, I no doubt had every disease known to man already in my body. I much doubted whatever I caught from a dirty glove could do much to me.

Walking further and further down the alleyway, I could start to feel the cold of the night creep in. If I had my thermos with me, I could tell, but from my best guess, it was well into the negative 20s, no doubt. I was debating whether I should stop by one of the nearby steam hubs when I saw something unusual, new. Crouching and picking it up, I held it in my fingers and rubbed it, guessing it to be the only thing I had learned: wool. Most animals that produced wool—like sheep—died off when the great frost came, too big and too numerous to transport to generator sites to maintain populations. Most clothing that used "wool" was mainly made of synthetic materials.

So my surprise at finding real, genuine wool in my hands raised my suspicion. I stuffed it into a coat pocket as I pulled up my lantern to look around the area. No wool anywhere, but a bin had its top open with some trash inside moved about, as if someone had stuck their hand straight down. I didn't have a direction to follow, no trail, but going forward was my best option for now. I made sure my steps were slow; if that... thing was anywhere nearby and heard me, it could bolt in a second, and I'd lose it. The sound of my boots slowly crunching on snow and dirt alike filled my ears, not to mention the noise of voices in the buildings around me.

"Nothing but a dead end..." I said to myself as I came to a form in the alley, which opened into two other paths to my right and left. Not much of a trail was given, so obviously, I wouldn't find it, but it still left a sour taste in my mouth.

My lantern illuminated the alleyways a fair bit, allowing me to check them over without much effort as I planned to go back to my original route. The noise of something falling to the ground caught my attention, and peering my lantern down the right alleyway, I saw a rubbish bin lid lying on the floor. Walking up to it, I could see some trash splayed on the ground beside it, but the bin was still upright. I held my breath as I looked around, the lantern illuminating my way, but I saw nothing. I couldn't just turn back now without making sure I hadn't missed anything, so moving past the discarded trash, I kept my body low and my footsteps quiet.

Nothing. Not even any voices from the nearby buildings and homes. It was as I turned a corner once more that I saw something of interest: indents in the snow. A... foot? No, it was like an animal's paw, but the sight left me worried. One footprint spaced evenly, with snow pushed away next to it, as if something had been dragged. I had found it and discovered what had happened to it after its fall. But if it was limping, it was near and not far. I let go of the quiet approach and began to rush around, looking for any more tracks in the snow. The snow was sparse through the alleyways, as most had landed on the roofs, but the little that was there helped me trace a route it had taken.

Snow crunched under my boots as I rushed to find it, too worried imagining a scenario where a civilian discovers it. A bloodbath of a scene couldn't leave my mind, and I hurried my pace. It was as I turned a new corner that I saw it—a tail lazing about by a bin before disappearing. I nearly shouted, but the noise it would attract would be too much, so I rushed to catch it. It was limping, horrendously so, its right leg seemingly bent in a way I wouldn't think possible. The wool that covered its body looked disheveled, torn, and dirty in some places. When it turned, getting trapped in a dead end, its face looked no better—dried orange liquid scattered around and down to its neck.

It was holding onto its arm with the good one, the other limp in its embrace. Its tail seemed okay, tucked between its good leg, and its ears were flat against its head. But it was shaking, greatly so, and I could hear the faintest hum of sound escape from its lips, but it sounded deep and gravelly. I stared at its form and state, and for the first time in my career, I hesitated. I could easily grab my portable alarm from my belt, capture it, and be rewarded or whatever rubbish, but the longer I stared, the more my head screamed at me. I wasn't even sure why I felt the way I did—an unexplainable guilt if I did my job, or just a tug at my soul towards something as if it had been done a thousand times before.

So, I chose something. Moving slowly, I held my hands up, palms out, though I doubted it understood the significance. Slowly reaching into my pocket, I pulled out the flask I had in it, filled with water today, thankfully. It wouldn't come near me if the shaking was anything to go by, so I simply threw it as far as I could to its feet, so it could drink. It stared at it for a moment, or at least I thought so; its eyes were difficult to read. I slowly stood on my own two feet, letting it see me as I backed away. There I stood for a few minutes, simply waiting for it to make its move as I looked away to see if any other patrols would come soon.

It moved after a while, finally struggling to open it at first and then taking sips from it cautiously. Whatever fear it had for me was overwritten by sheer survival, as I doubted it had much luck finding clean water in the alleyways. Food too, probably—that's something I should have considered bringing with me to lure it out, though what it ate wasn't exactly known to me. Once it finished my flask, it still shook, still looked scared, but at least it was hydrated; it's a step. Communication was likely impossible, so there was no way for me to tell it to wait for me to bring food; I doubted it would anyway if I walked away. Instead, I brought my fingers to my mouth, pressing them into a ball, but nothing about its posture changed in reaction to it. Instead, I opened my mouth and mimicked an eating motion, and this seemed to scare it even more.

It backed itself further into the corner of the alleyway, against a rubbish bin. It made some whimpering noises, and I cursed myself as I tried to calm it down. If I could barely communicate with it and the little I tried scared it, my plan wouldn't last for too long. To earn its trust, I would need to prove myself by helping it, but I couldn't because it was scared of me. I couldn't convince it to stop being scared of me unless I helped it, which I could do if I managed to convince it to trust me... A dilemma, one that made my head hurt trying to think of some sort of solution, and it came to me quickly. Footsteps, multiple, coming down. Unlike me, I doubted they'd waste time sounding the alarm, and my heart acted faster than my brain. I grabbed the creature, shutting its mouth from its noises of surprise and no doubt pain in its limbs as I forcefully picked it up. I forced it to hide behind a nearby bag of crates, covering its mouth with one hand and placing a finger over my lips.

It seemed to understand, shaking still, but it made no noise. Standing back up, I walked to the intersection of the alleyway, where the noise became clear. Four people, guards, shone their lanterns at me as I appeared. It dimmed immediately as they saw me and walked up. I didn't recognize any of them, but they wore the uniform of the patrol guard, waving at me.

"Mate, you nearly scared Jonah here half to death!" One of them spoke, the tallest one of the group, pointing to the shorter one who had a scarf wrapped around their face.

"Did not! And for the record, I was only curious about who was here," the shorter man responded. "And you, uh... find anything so far? I want to find this killer and head to bed already..."

"No, no... ain't found anything," I responded, trying to seem as normal as possible despite my nervousness. "Take it you four weren't there when he escaped?"

"Nope, we got taken from a neighboring district to start looking. Fucking smells though..."

"Yeah, you get used to it... heat from the generator means the place is warmer than normal, so the trash smell hits you harder. Though I do have to ask, do any of you lot have anything to eat? I fucking forgot to eat before the second shift started."

They looked between each other, eyebrows raised, but one of them raised his hand, holding a smaller piece of bread. Okay for now, I supposed. I extended my hand to reach for it, but he didn't give it to me. I grumbled, pulling out a heat stamp, which he grabbed and placed the bread in my open palm. The group left soon after, and my nervousness finally subsided. The creature was still, thankfully, as scared as ever.

But it looked so curious as I held out my palm with the bread, staring at it. It reached out its hand slowly, gripping it out of my hand before pulling back quickly. It tasted a piece, and finding it okay, took bites out of it bit by bit. My mind wanted to help it, and my heart wanted to as well; it's just in different ways. A protectiveness I didn't realize I had to help it, in my own way. But the way to express that would be hard since I doubted it knew any English.

I held my hand out to it, and its orange eyes stared, though it was hard to tell. I gripped my other hand into it, a handshake, before pointing to it and then to me. I doubted it understood much of my hand expressions, but to try was my only option. It still shook, but not as much, body satisfied finally and it seeming willing. I suppose that's all that's needed.

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It took a while to get it to my home, another hour of explanation and hand expressions to convince it to let me touch it. Then the journey to carry it all the way home was as simple as finding a wheelbarrow and a blanket to cover it. I was thankful my shift was over now too, which meant I could focus on helping my new guest. I helped to lay it down on my own bed, not caring for the dirt and grime on it staining my bed. It made noises along the way, discomfort or pain; it's not hard to make a guess. Medication... something for the pain. Entering my bathroom, I pulled out whatever pills I owned from the medicine cabinet.

"Shouldn't be too bad if I just lower the doses by cutting this..." I murmured, cutting a painkiller in half with another. It was better if some of the pain went away because I gave it too little than killing it because I gave it too much.

Entering my bedroom again, it was already relaxing, head rested and body slack. It was possibly the first time ever in a long time that it got any proper sleep, so I let it be for now. I put the pills down on my bedside table and looked at it again. I'll come to regret it, possibly, but for now, I felt a sense of... pride in myself for helping it.