There are options for those who cannot make it on faith and patriotism alone.

At this time, most ferries won’t risk a journey that long until there’s adequate naval support to guarantee safe passage. Everyone here on the shores of Tensar is sitting tight and praying for safety. But one could always try their luck with one of the Empress’s own privateer crews, freelancers who pick the waters on this side of the line clean of infiltrators and are honorbound to help out civilians in exchange for their lax oversight. In fact, there’s a ship in port right now, they said. It’ll be a trek to get there, but the burial gardens are a well-frequented spot for crews who want to immerse themselves in the beauty of the land while they can and remember old crewmates. They’re not far from here.

Sounding like our best and only option, my travel companion— we’ll get to him in a bit —and I make our way there, quickly learning that to call it a garden is a bit of a misnomer. It’s a pleasant spot, certainly, a grassy hill at a gentle incline, sparsely populated by trees up to the point it terminates in a cliff looking over the town. Memorials cluster around the oldest trees, partly assimilated by the wood, but many are set into the grass with no other landmark but themselves. But, near the top of the hill, resting near one of the farthest trees, I see her. Or someone, at least.

And she did seem ordinary enough at a distance. Another morph, even another jackal, side-striped if I had to guess, a round tan hat securing some rather prominent long red hair flowing out over the shoulder of a fitted sweater. Her head is tilted back, a thin paperback covering her face; she’s really out of it. I guess there’s not really a uniform for privateers, I just hope I’m not mistakenly bothering a civilian for no good reason instead. 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. What a mistake that was. The same new form that earned me such courtesy from the locals pulls an entirely different response from her.

I start to say something, she lifts her paperback off of her face, I make eye contact with her, she makes eye contact with me; it’s nice for about four seconds. The following four carry the stammered beginnings of my introduction, which meet head-on with a crimson flash from her outstretched hands. Which brings us to the moment at which my other audience introduces herself. And what about my companion? Well, he’s nowhere to be seen, the flake, so I get to be devoured whole all on my lonesome.

Black vapor still drifts from my suddenly nude, suddenly smaller body, rising from her mouth like the aftermath of firebreath. 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. You would think for all my mechanical bits, leathered pelt, and a frankly alarming concentration of various preservatives, I’d be exempt from the menu. And yet…

“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.

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. Five years I made it without being killed again but I doubt my ability to come back from this one.

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. The acoustics aren’t the most conducive to holding a conversation but I’m far from muted by them, at least to her. Knowing that 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. I’m just food now, to say nothing of the vast majority of my shed mass gone to waste entirely.

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..”

Well no shit it’s a surprise, if this is the welcome she gives. “So… do I come out now, so we can negotiate?”

“No. I like to have the higher ground for these things.”

“What things? Transportation arrangements?”

“Reapers,” she corrects. Incorrectly, but that’s an argument I’m not going to win.

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

“For transportation, or for your life?” 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 in to soothe me, but giving me no chance to escape. Given time to actually inspect things, I can see those runes extend this far up too; shimmering lines easily lost in the coloration and shadow of her maw.

“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 suppose you’re due this explanation too. I’m sorry about this, but it looks like I’ve got a bit more of a recap to give. Let’s back up a few days, to the part where I lose everything.