Antonio

When we’re loaded into the barred wagon, I still don’t know what I’m in handcuffs for. I especially don’t know where they’re taking us. Simon and I were led from our cell in the middle of the night just a day ago, and the road has not been kind to either of our joints. We are chained with another six men. We are all stinking, hot, and in desperate need of a shave.

When the wagon turns north, I feel a sense of relief, knowing that we will be coming into cooler weather. No one knows where we’re going or why we’re being moved. Simon thinks that it has to do with funding and overpopulation. The way we are stacked in like tuna, I can’t help but agree with him. Most of the men look fairly the same to me as Simon does: two legged, upright, clearly human men. And then there are a few that are relatively men-shaped–until they -aren’t.

I’d never come into contact with a satyr before, or other half-beast folk. There are three huddled together in the back corner of the wagon, keeping largely to themselves as we trundle along the bumpy, dusty road. I can’t help myself: I stare. I must have been locked away for far too long, because my social delicacies has clearly fallen away. Just a year before, I would be embarrassed by my brash, unashamed gaze. I was curious.

Simon must have caught my gaze, because he chuckled. “I’m beginning to believe you’re not from Led.”

I startle and shift my gaze away, dragging it down to my hands in my lap. “What makes you say that?”

“Almost everyone knows a beastman, or the like,” he explained. “You’re looking like you’ve never seen one before.”

I cleared my throat. “Sorry, everyone knows a beastman?”

Simon wedged a pinky into his ear in consideration. “Just about,” he repeats.

“But not in other places?”

Simon shakes his head, “Led was maybe the only country in the whole four realms that wasn’t afraid of them. They’ve been here for generations; old as the land itself in some places.”

“Really?” I frown.

“It’s a shame. They haven’t done anything wrong besides existing.”

“They’re not here for crimes?”

Simon shakes his head sadly. “Only the crime of existing.”

My brow furrows. “They’re not… I don’t know. Volatile? Aggressive? They don’t act out of their animalistic instincts?”

His gaze makes me wonder if I’ve grown a second head. “What are you on about, boy? Of course not.” He pushes me, and it’s not entirely kind. The first show of anger I’ve seen him display in all the time I’ve spent with him. “They’re men, just like you and me. And probably less inclination than you and I have about why we’re here in the first place.”

I lose my voice.

He huffs beside me, and I feel like a young child getting chastised by a tutor when I was a child. “In fact, you should go over there and meet some of them. You’ve been staring, maybe you ought to apologize for your rudeness.”

I blink at him. “Rudeness?” I guesture around at the rest of the prisoners. “We are all prisoners. We have no autonomy. There’s no reason for manners.”

He frowns, and my soul creeps back into my body a little further. “There is always a reason for manners, Tony. Integrity is what makes a man.” He shoves me forward as a bump takes the wagon wheel, and I’m sent sprawling into the legs of someone else. “Now go apologize.”

I scrape myself off the floor and start my apology tour with the men I just bumped into, who sneer down at me.

I drag my feet forward, stepping carefully over the legs and bodies of people napping. I grasp one of the heavy bars, swaying above the group of crouched beastmen. They don’t look up at me, but judging from the stiffness in their shoulders, they know I’m hovering over them. I cast a glance over my shoulder at Simon, who is still watching me carefully. I know I can’t bend out now. I raise my voice over the din of the sound of the wheels. “Sorry, hello. I’m–uh…” They all turn up to look at me. Those with animal-like ears have them pressed flat against their heads, and all of their eyes look at me with a healthy dose of distrust. I lose track of what I’m going to say. My heart is thundering in my ears. What if they hurt me? They didn’t look too strong, at least, but I’d been out of commission for a very long time… “I just wanted–sorry, can I sit?”

One of them glares at me.

“Okay. Got it.” I am floundering, drowning in my embarrassment and fear. “Right. I’m sorry for staring. I’m… where I’m from there aren’t many of you. That was… um… really rude of me.”

I bow my head. They watch me carefully, but give no other sign that they had heard me.

I nod and start to turn away. “Anyways. Sorry again. I meant no offense.”

Someone laughs and I spin back around. A young man with dusty brown hair and fox-like ears. He stands up, using the wall to balance himself. He extends a hand to me: all skin, like mine. I hesitate. “It’s okay. It isn’t like we aren’t used to the stares,” he tells me. His voice is light but gravly: as if he’s swallowed a few pebbles and they are hanging out in his voice box.

I take his hand. It’s warm, his handshake warm. “Sorry, anyways.”

He grips my hand. “I’m Tols, who are you?”

His forwardness startles me, but I weigh my emotions against the war of fear that roils through me. “Tony.”

“Ah! Another T-boy. We stick together in these parts.”

The other beastmen seem to relax below us. “Ah. Right.” My mouth says. My brain has long shut-off.

“I’m what they call a Fenex. Kind of like fennec.” He releases my hand so that I can see his bushy, vulpine tail.

“Right.” I try to turn again. “Thank you.”

He grabs my elbow and pulls me into the circle. “This is Oryx, he’s a satyr. Half goat. They’re known for–”

“Stop it, T,” Oryx is blushing, staring at his hands. “Don’t waste your energy on bullshit like this.”

The aggression startles me, but Tols shrugs it off, as if it’s a bead of water that rolls off his shoulders. “There’s no reason not to make a friend.”

“We’re going to die, Tol,” says a man with brown, feline ears.

“Well, sure. Of course we are,” Tol shrugs. “We all die at some point.”

Someone lets out an exasperated sigh and I decide it’s my turn to extract myself. “Well. It’s nice to meet you all. Sorry, again.”

“Come back again, you know where we’ll be!” Tols says cheerfully to my back as I retreat back to Simon’s side–all of four feet away.

Yes, I certainly will. I respond in my head. I don’t think I’ll be able to get away from him.

Simon pats me gently on the shoulder as I sit down. “There you go, lad. Was that so bad?”

“Yes,” I whisper hoarsely.

“Ah, you’ll get used to it.”

I sincerely doubt I ever will.