Chapter 29: A War Not All Chose
The room fell into a quieter kind of stillness.
The warmth of the broth lingered in my stomach, dulling the sharpest edge of my hunger, but not the questions pressing against my mind.
Only then did I realize there was something absurdly basic I still did not know.
I looked at her. "I never asked your name."
One of her ears twitched.
For a moment, I thought she might ignore the question altogether. Then she said, "You may call me Mia."
May.
Not my name is, but you may call me.
Which meant it was either not her real name, or not the only one she carried. Still, I had no intention of pushing her on it. Not yet.
"I’m Al," I said.
The lie came easily, or perhaps not a lie, exactly. Just less than the whole truth.
Her golden eyes rested on me for a heartbeat longer than was comfortable, as though she could tell I was holding something back. But if she noticed, she chose not to say so.
"Al," she repeated, testing the name once before letting it settle. "Very well."
I drew a slow breath.
"Can you help me return to human territory?"
At that, Mia leaned back slightly in her chair, and the faint dry humour that had lingered around her until now disappeared.
"It will be difficult, if not impossible."
The bluntness of the answer made my chest tighten.
"Because of the war?" I asked.
"Because of many things." Her tail curled once around the leg of the chair. "The beastkin are not one people in mind, no matter what your kingdom likely believes. We are divided. More divided now than we have been in generations."
I frowned. "What do you mean?"
Mia was quiet for a moment, as though ordering thoughts she did not often speak aloud. When she did answer, her voice had taken on a colder weight.
"The tiger and the bear did not drag all beastkin willingly into this war. They forced it." Her gaze sharpened. "Some leaders opposed them from the beginning. The cat clans. The falcon clans. The rabbit clans. The deer clans. They wanted caution. Some even wished to open contact with humans before blood spread too far."
I stared at her.
That was... not what I had expected to hear.
"Then why didn’t they?"
A humourless expression crossed her face. "Because wanting peace and being able to reach it are not the same thing."
She rose and moved toward the small window.
"The tiger leader struck first," she said. "The bear stood with him. Together, they crushed opposition before it could gather properly. Those who resisted openly were defeated. Those who survived fled. Now the cat, falcon, rabbit, and deer leaders remain in hiding, scattered with what few followers they could save."
Her claws tapped once against the window frame.
"They have already lost too many."
I said nothing.
In the silence, I found myself studying her again - the old scars hidden beneath her grey fur, the small tears in one ear, the rigid stillness of someone who had seen too much loss to waste words mourning it.
"They still thought of trying to contact humans?" I asked at last.
"At first," Mia let out a soft sigh. "But the risk was too great."
"Because humans would refuse to listen?"
Her head turned toward me. "Because humans might kill them before listening at all."
That answer landed hard.
And because I could not deny it.
A beastkin envoy arriving near the border in the middle of a war would not be welcomed with patience. Arrows would come before questions. Blades before negotiation. Fear made people stupid. Pride made them worse.
Mia must have read some of that in my expression, because her voice softened by the smallest degree.
"Could you tell me otherwise?" she asked.
I opened my mouth.
Then closed it again.
Because no - I could not.
Not honestly.
Even if there were reasonable men among the humans, even if my father himself were willing to hear them, that did not change what frightened soldiers or grieving nobles might do before word ever reached the right ears.
Mia gave a slight nod, as if my silence had answered for me.
"That is why they did not go," she said. "They had already been beaten. Already lost warriors, scouts, kin. To gamble what remained on the hope that humans would show restraint..." She shook her head once. "No. The cost was too high."
I looked down at the blanket gathered over my legs.
The war I had known from the human side had seemed simple enough. Beastkin attacked. Humans defended. Borders burned. People died. That was the shape of it.
But here, in this quiet room that smelled faintly of broth, herbs, and old wood, the shape had begun to crack.
"If they’re hiding," I said slowly, "then the tiger and bear control everything now?"
"Not everything." Mia turned fully back toward me. "But enough. They have strength, numbers, fear, and momentum. Most importantly, they have made resistance costly. Every failed stand weakens those who oppose them and strengthens the belief that opposing them is useless."
I frowned. "Then how are the others surviving?"
"By vanishing where they can. By trusting very little. By moving often. By giving up pride in exchange for breathing another day."
Her golden eyes narrowed.
"That is why returning you will not be simple. Beastkin territory is no longer merely dangerous because humans are unwelcome. It is dangerous because many beastkin are hunting their own as well."
A small chill passed through me.
"So even if I start heading for the border..."
"You may run straight into tiger patrols." Mia cut in flatly. "Or bear scouts. Or desperate clans too frightened to shelter a human child. Or humans who think you have been turned and should be killed before you speak."
That last possibility had occurred to me already. Hearing someone else say it aloud made it uglier.
I exhaled slowly. "So I’m trapped."
"No." Mia’s ears flicked once. "Trapped implies there is no path. There may be one."
My eyes lifted immediately.
She noticed, and some dry amusement returned to her face.
"I said may."
"That’s more than you were giving me a moment ago."
"It is also all I am willing to give until I decide whether helping you is wisdom or stupidity."
Despite everything, I almost smiled.
Almost.
"What would decide that?" I asked.
Mia studied me in silence, weighing me again with those sharp golden eyes.
Then she said, "Whether you understand what lies outside this hut."
Her voice was not loud, but it carried a force that made me sit a little straighter.
"You ask to return to human territory as though the journey is only distance. It is not. It is politics, fear, hunger, pursuit, divided loyalties, and blood already spilled. If I help you, I may not only be risking myself. I may be risking others who have already paid too much for this war."
The words settled heavily in the room.
I tightened my fingers against the blanket. "I’m not asking lightly."
"No child asks lightly after nearly dying in a broken teleportation." She took a step closer. "But children still ask without understanding the cost."
I met her gaze. "Then help me understand."
For the first time since she had revealed her true face, Mia looked at me with something like open consideration.
Not trust.
Not yet.
But perhaps the faint beginning of it.
She moved back to her chair and sat again, slower this time, her tail folding around her feet.
"Finish your food first, Al," she said. "Because what I tell you next is the kind of truth that gets people killed long before it saves them."