How badly I'd love to tell you I'm boldly picking up what remains of my undeath, starting over with nothing but the clothes I was wearing when it all went wrong. But at this moment I can't even claim to have those.

I am in need of transport, as far and as fast from here as possible. I thought I had found it.

Or rather, found the person I was told could arrange that, and she seemed ordinary enough at a distance. A morph, canine at that; you can't get much more ordinary than that. She was just as quiet as everyone said, and she matched the description; a side-striped jackal, draped in long red hair secured by a round, tan hat. Having potentially found my ticket off this soggy island, I didn't think too much about approaching her as she snoozed at the base of one of the few trees that spring up from the grassy cliff. That'd be my first mistake.

I've called a couple of different places home, growing up, but they were both part of the same island chain. Despite the differences between them, the nice thing they had in common was that nobody around seemed to consider eye contact as being grounds for biting someone in half.

I didn't realize that would be something I'd so pertinently learn I would miss.

I started to say something, she lifted her paperback off of her face, I made eye contact with her, she made eye contact with me; it was nice for about four seconds. The following four carried the stammered beginnings of my introduction, which met head-on with an entropic flash from her outstretched hands. Which brings us to now.

Black vapor still drifts from my suddenly-unclad, suddenly-smaller body, rising from her mouth like the aftermath of firebreath. Not that she can breathe fire. I hope. That would be just my luck though, wouldn't it?

Her lower teeth rest just behind my head, and my legs braced against the roof of her mouth act as the only things saving me from a decapitation my growing anxiety insists is coming. I can't exactly reposition myself, or else believe me, I would love to, just to keep myself mostly out of harm's way. Truth be told, I'm panicking a lot more than I let on.

“I think there's been a serious misunderstanding!" I call. “I need t—“

Before I can finish explaining myself, I'm interrupted by her tongue curling around behind me and tugging me inwards, flipping me onto my stomach and allowing the cage of fangs to lock shut around me, only narrowly missing one of my ankles.

I can't see, but I can feel the sudden tilt and I know what it means even before I begin sliding forward. I scramble to flip myself around, facing towards the front again and standing quickly, bracing against the fleshy ceiling with my hands to avoid being swallowed.

“Can we talk this out?!" I shout. I know she can hear me but she's not giving me a response. Perhaps she was as suspicious about me as I was supposed to be about her.

I sigh in relief as her jaws part and let sunlight in, thinking she's become more inclined to listen to reason, but I was wrong again. I've been wrong a lot today. A manicured claw dives in, jabbing me in the ribs and causing me to lose my hold. My perspective flips upside-down, sending me into the humid depths headfirst.

Maybe it's worth mentioning I've not even been awake for three hours. Just to give you an idea of how quickly my day turned bad.

From all directions slick muscle slams into me, tugging me down as I flail in vain. The constant constriction squeezes the air from my lungs, and robs me of my ability to fight back effectively. Although, once you're past the molars, that's basically it.

Don't get me wrong; I haven't accepted my fate in the slightest. On principle, I'm never as dignified in reality as I try to sound. But you know what, who cares? I'm gonna die.

Again.

The suffocating clenching stops, almost mercifully, I'd like to believe, as I'm deposited into an only slightly less claustrophobic space. Despite the newly-found elbow room, this is the space I was most worried about for reasons I'm sure I don't need to explain. At least I have room to cast now. Pressing my back into a wall to stay out of the pooling enzymes at my feet, I begin to distill my aura and charge up a short teleport outside of her insides. Big mistake. A force akin to an electric shock bites through my back and out through my chest, shoving me into the pit of my captor's stomach.

I've read about this before; a special series of runes tattooed all the way from the mouth to the stomach to create a null-magic zone. Very hard to find someone willing to apply the rune, for many reasons. In the event of encountering such a rune, the only thing that might save you is something sharp, but my makeshift weapon, unfortunately, is still outside.

I work on picking myself up again, resigning myself to simply raking at the walls as the light fades from her activated tattoos, but my claws slip off harmlessly. My surroundings shake as the predator chuckles softly.

“I thought reapers were supposed to be sneaky," she remarks. “I know you haven't been crushed, so tell me, which gods did I insult so badly they'd send you?"

A nervous laugh slips out of me, though I doubt she was able to hear it. “Hey, can we start over? You've got the wrong idea!" I shout, hoping I'm still within earshot. I'm not lying, but I have to admit I certainly look the part. That wasn't my choice though. Having more tails than I'm used to is already doing awful things to my hips even without being compressed like this.

This would be my second time being eaten. From experience, I can tell you that my kind is built to allow sound to be funneled upwards easily for private conversation. Which makes it rather easy to tell that I'm being ignored. I can feel her shift about, presumably sitting back down to read her book at the base of the lone tree.

I punch the wall in frustration, burying everything up to my elbow in it without giving me so much as a reflexive twitch. I can hear her lungs fill, and then she tenses up, the wall turning firm and throwing me back into the pit of her stomach. I'm running out of time. I try to keep myself out of the acrid fizz as best I can, though it's proving a little hard now that the walls themselves are secreting it in response to the introduction of food. That's me. I'm the food. Hello.

I'm not keeping it together as well as I could be. Never been good at it. I take a deep breath. Reflex. Not as necessary for something like me but it clears the head, even in this smothering humidity. “I was told to come find you! I need to get off the island!"

Still no response. I slap a nearby surface a few times and try again. “Do you do this to all your clients?"

That finally does it. “You'd be surprised," she replies. “Doesn't seem to lessen the number of civilian passengers we get at all, honestly.."

I pause. “You're right, I am surprised. So… do I come out now, so we can negotiate?"

“No. I like to have the higher ground when negotiating."

“Alright, alright," I concede. “So what can I offer in exchange?"

“For transportation, or for your life?" she asks.

“Uhhh… both?"

She chuckles again, sending a shiver down my branching spine. “Don't worry about that, taking passengers is part of the gig. You're covered, thanks to the good graces of the Empress, long may she reign and all this, that, and the other." An obligatory ending but the degree to which she's abridged it couldn't make any clearer her indifference.

“So what do you want from me?"

She pauses for an uncomfortably long time. I can't tell if the tingling in my toes comes from anxiety or stomach acid. After what I swear were the longest handful of seconds of my life, she hums thoughtfully.

“Tell me about yourself."

“I can do that," I agree, “but I might be able to include more detail if I wasn't at risk of… well, melting."

“Right, right, right, forgive me. One moment."

I brace myself for what's coming next, preemptively curling into a ball just before my surroundings fold in on me, forcing me back upwards. Having experienced it not too long ago going down, the tightness isn't quite as unbearable, especially now that I get to anticipate fresh air. I emerge onto her tongue lying on my back, as she slightly parts her teeth, allowing the brisk air to come into soothe me, but giving me no chance to escape; her runic cage is still in effect here.

“So… where should I start?" I ask.

Even with her mouth being full, she still forms words surprisingly clearly.

“From the beginning. Where else?"

I sigh to myself, wondering how much I can recall. “Alright. Then let's begin."