Misconception

  "...ynde, a magical beast that takes the form...tin C, two-star...ound fracture on left shoulder, and simple fr...ien biology. Six-chambered heart with a resting pulse of 200. Digestion seems to work li...Whatever we find beneath the skin, keep the approach suits on. 130° temperatures can be lethal with enough exposure, let alone whatever the kynde's core temperature is. Remember to document anything unusual, if you can see it in the crappy lighting."

  The kynde sits up in the hospital room, head pounding, feeling drained. It's an ideal temperature. 130ish, just like she heard someone say. The someone was a researcher. 'Researchers are bastards' rule. Proceed with caution, show no weakness, feign energy.

  Three separate people shout or scream as she sits up in the bed, before one lets out a string of curses. "Kynde, lie back down. You shouldn't be awake yet."

  She ignores him, stretching her arms a bit, careful to not yank out the saline drip. Martin followed the instructions on the note she left, thankfully. 130°, no medications, only saline, blacklight in the room instead of incandescent bulbs, a few extra blankets and socks, even the multiple bottles of water on the table next to her.

  'Martin is reliable and trustworthy' positive proof. Theory solidified into rule. MBR agents are reliable and trustworthy? Potentially.

  She takes one of the bottles of water, and starts chugging it as the people in shiny metal suits around her stare in confusion. The violet light in the room is dim, but enough to read their body language, more or less. Fear. Curiosity. Dehumanization?

  "I am alive and without permanent injury, although my shoulder is in moderate pain. Are you three also well?" She asks, setting aside the now-empty bottle and opening another.

  "You've had several broken bones, a serious concussion, and-"

  "And now I am fine." She carefully stands up, testing her weight on both legs. One is noticeably sore, but neither seem unsteady. "...you do not need to keep staring at me. My condition is not deteriorating." She starts drinking the second bottle of water.

  "Kynde." One of the men in the heatproof suits says. "Please lay back down. We were about to operate and set your bone back into place. You could be damaging it without realizing it."

  The kynde tightens her lips, before sliding back into the warm cot. It is comfortable. Perfect temperature, not too soft... Researchers are bastards, bastards seek injury or containment in search of information. Maybe she can propose an alternative pathway to goal of research? "I propose an alternative. Instead of being dissected for examination, I can directly answer whatever questions you pose instead."

  They all exchange looks. As expected. Human researchers all wanted to cut her up and see what made her work. She stays sitting up in bed, nursing her pounding headache and needling pain from her shoulder. "Very well. You each may ask one."

  She answers their questions as best she can. What's your earliest memory? Unsure. Is UV light equivalent to sunlight? No, but it does help a small amount, and more importantly doesn't hurt to look at. What was your reasoning for trying to contain the blast? Of the four on the team, who else could attempt it?

  The people in the heat suits slowly file out of the room, getting into some kind of argument with someone in the hall. After only a few moments, Martin stomps into the room, briefly hesitating after opening the door and being met with the searing air, but continues in regardless. His expression is hard to read in the purple light, but the way he uncomfortably plays with his hands is hard to mistake. He clears his throat, before coughing in the hot air. "Hard to breathe in here."

  "Yes. Thank you for following the instructions I had laid out. Last time I was injured, Dr. Stolatz attempted an intravenous anesthetic. It was... deeply unpleasant." Martin watches as she rubs her arm at the thought, before she lies back down, no longer hiding her obvious exhaustion. She must be comfortable around him, he thinks.

  Martin tries to collect his thoughts. What should he even say? "Kynde."

  "Human." She replies off-handedly, closing her heavy eyes.

  "I'm sorry. I... left you behind. I didn't think you would survive the blast." He confesses, tightly gripping his hands together. "I should have tried to stop you."

  The kynde hums in amusement, leaving her eyes closed. "You are apologetic for following my instructions? I wonder if my trouble with understanding humans is unique..." She forces one eye open. "If you remain remorseful, I would recommend working off the guilt by providing something me with something hot to eat. Not spicy, I should clarify." She briefly pauses. "Moth and Ferret are intact?"

  Martin wipes sweat from his brow. "Yeah, they're fine. I'll get your food. Oh, I'm giving you a name. Typically moon-ranks like yourself traditionally get an animal similar to our names. So if I was named Turtle, you might be Terrapin. Martin is a bird, so you'll also have a bird name."

  "Will it be mandated by your organization? If not, I will accept anything other than Phoenix."

  She can't be sure, but she thinks she sees his face fall for a moment. Martin nods. "I'll think it over. I'm going to go before I die of heat stroke. I'll be back with the food." He checks on her pillows, blankets, and saline drip before walking out of the room, gasping in the cool hallway air in relief as he leaves.

  What strange creatures, she thinks. Is the remorse over nothing a side effect of their lineage as pack hunters? Or maybe due to their frailty... She pulls a blanket over herself. Whatever it is, they certainly succeeded with the cloth and electric heating. She never expected to be this consistently warm. Maybe she'd put off returning to hibernation. Enjoy it here, for at least a little longer.

  Martin stands outside the door to the infirmary and makeshift hothouse, energetically speaking to Moth and Ferret. "She also has a name now!"

  "Good," Ferret says. "Hopefully something better than 'Ferret'."

  "I think so. Behold, Shrike C!"

  Martin opens the door, a wave of hot air sweeping over the three of them. The kynde is bathed in purple light, a mouthful of french fries sticking from her mouth, as she looks to the three hunters by the door.

  Moth and Ferret exchange a look. "Shrike?" Moth asks. "Like the bird that stabs lizards on spikes before eating them? I mean, its your partner..."

  Martin nods proudly. "She absolutely has the impalement part down. Hey, Shrike, do the thing you did to the omukade."

  She swallows the fries in a way uncannily like a pelican, before summoning a spike of light from the ground with a lazy wave of the hand, before dismissing it. She slides out of the bed, putting on her usual outdoors clothing, before stepping out of the room and putting her blindfold on. "My shoulder is largely healed. I still require sunlight."

  Ferret says, "I went to do triage on you after the blast, but your leg was snapped almost in half, and your arm was twisted twice around your shoulder. Kind of terrifying how quickly you recovered." He admits, half-smiling as he moves away from Shrike a bit.

  "Not fully, but to a satisfactory extent. What is the next mission? I am in sufficient condition for it."

  The three other hunters glance between each other. "We... don't go out on hunts constantly. Maybe two or three times a month." Ferret says.

  "That explains why humans have not extirpated us all by now." She muses, ignoring their silence. "Additionally, I have confirmed that humans highly enjoy asking me questions." She leans against the wall, arms crossed. Moth and Ferret both start talking over each other, as Shrike holds up a hand.

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  "In exchange, I request a way to listen to music. There are several specific bands I enjoy."

  Ferret sucks air through his teeth. "That's a good starting place. When did you get access to listen to music in the first place?"

  "I have experienced it in rare intervals. Stealing a scientist's music player. Hearing it on a radio that played next to my enclosure for a time. I enjoy music."

  "Okaaaay." Ferret thinks for a moment. "How do you know English?"

  "I innately do."

  "Great, thanks." He changes his approach. "What was your first interaction with humans? And did you always look... human?"

  She scratches her cheek. "I know for certain I was in a mountainous region of this continent, knapping flint spearheads. I truly do not remember for who, though the intent was to hunt large beasts with a protruding snout. Hibernation makes memories hazy."

  She senses three slack-jawed faces in front of her. "I realize now this was a large quantity of new information for you all."

  Martin clears his throat. "You've been around for thousands of years? The assumption was thirty-five, at most."

  "I estimate that I have only been awake and conscious for two or three hundred. I enter an active state for a period of time ranging from months to a couple years, I store heat and light, and I hibernate for anywhere between fifty and several hundred. It is hard to tell precisely, give the lack of timekeeping devices. I-"

  Ferret interrupts in frustration. "What do you mean by "hibernate"?! Do you still speak whatever language there was from the time?"

  "In hibernation, I typically find a small cave or burrow a hole somewhere, enter inside said hole, and allow myself to enter a period of minimal requirements. When I require more heat and light, I leave the hole, gather it, and find a new hole. It is similar to... going home at the end of the day?" She tries to analogize the situation. The hunters' faces explain she is failing. "Further, I do not know any former languages. I only learn them once awoken. I believe the process was somehow disrupted this cycle, as I was extracted by an outside force rather than awakening naturally. As such, my speech is... disrupted. Stiff. It is not typically so."

  "So you just knew English after waking up?" Ferret asks again.

  "Yes. I... intrinsically comprehend many human aspects when I awaken. Language, some cultural norms, typical skills. I have the ability to operate a car, I understand how an internal combustion engine works, but simultaneously do not know what a carburetor does or why humans yawn." She thinks a bit deeper, pausing for a moment. "Additionally mixed in are odd pieces of folklore and literal interpretations of metaphor. I believed 'resting in peace' meant sleeping for some time, and assumed that there was an actual magic in finding pennies face up. I was also very disappointed to find out that hot showers were not a real thing."

  "Dibs on telling the kynde!" Moth says excitedly. "Hot showers are a thing. I think the bastards in MBR lied to you."

  Shrike's face tightens, ears pulled back a bit. "If that was said in humor, I find it unappealing."

  Ferret adjusts his glasses slightly. "It wasn't. Can I ask a final question?"

  Shrike nods inattentively, mind still fixated on the Magical Beast Research team's lie.

  "You said your understanding of cultural norms are dictated by the time. Does that include morality? For example, do you feel guilty when stealing, or regret after killing?"

  "My understanding of norms changes, not my internal emotions. As an example, I would personally enjoy eating Dr. Stolatz's heart after breaking open his ribcage like the cracking spine of an leather-bound book... but I am aware that is improper."

  Ferret swallows, looking away from Shrike. "Yeah... You look great today, by the way."

  "Allow me five more hours." Shrike's voice echoes from the closed bathroom door, the sound of the shower raining down surrounding it.

  "The hot water doesn't last forever. You have maybe ten minutes more before it goes cold. Fifteen at most." Martins says, knocking on the door again.

  "Another lie to hide this glory from me? I will not be deceived." Her voice sounds playful, but the shower keeps running.

  Martin sighs, and goes back to his bed. He tried to warn her.

  Fifteen minutes later, the sound of a slamming door is heard from the bathroom. Better not rub it in, he thinks. He doubts there's any physical danger, but he has no idea if she'd either thank him for the lesson on heat transfer, or leave a dead cat on his bed.

  "Question for question?" Shrike asks, a few days after her release from the military base's magical beast infirmary. Asking questions has been an increasingly common request from both Shrike and Martin, a simple exchange of information between kynde and human.

  "Shoot." Martin says, flicking away a spam email.

  "Can you explain the emotion of nostalgia? I understand the causes, but not the function." She sits by the fireplace which now permanently blazes in his home while reading a book she had stolen from a superstore.

  Martin scrolls through his smartphone, not looking up. "Humans seek comfort in the familiar. It's why most of us have so many routines. Time for eating, time for working, time for rest. Nostalgia comes from an activity that brought peace or safety, or other good memories attached to it. Not sure on the details, but that's my general understanding."

  Shrike turns a page in the book. "I understand. You may ask now."

  "When you said you wanted to eat Dr. Stolatz's heart a few days ago, was that hyperbole?"

  "No. I have heard that many human hearts have become so fatty it can impact their function. I admit to being curious as to the taste."

  That was not the answer he was hoping for. "Huh... another question?"

  "Yes."

  "Have you eaten humans before?" Martin asks, looking over at her from his phone.

  "I remember eating from at least one person. The action required prying off some variety of metal armor, they were speaking in a language I did not understand, and they had angered me somehow. This is not my question, but are firearms a new invention? I remember a long type of rifle being involved."

  Martin searches for a photo of a conquistador, showing it to Shrike. She squints with one eye at the photo, then recoils. After a brief moment, she speaks. "Yes, much like that one. I remember tearing into him, eating several organs but only enjoying the heart."

  Martin snorts, suddenly less bothered by the idea. "That's pretty great."

  "Are you not put off by this? I understand that eating humans is a strict taboo."

  "It is, and don't tell anyone else about it. I don't feel bad for conquistadors specifically though. It's a whole history lesson I don't feel like going into."

  Her wide eyes seem to fixate on him for a moment. "My question. Where can I seek information on other kyndes? I am curious about their behaviors."

  "We don't know a ton. Every kynde is unique. Some are more or less normal people with strange anatomy, some are terrifying masses of teeth and bone in a human-shaped shell, almost all have some level of innate magic, and no others hibernate that we know of. One more round?"

  "I accept, but this is the last. I am curious if this woman will survive eating a fruit she was instructed not to." Her eyes return to the book.

  Martin almost asks her if she's reading the Bible or a young adult novel, but thinks better of it. "Does it bother you that you're probably the only one like you?"

  "No. My question is the inversion. As proud of individuality as humans are, does it bother you that you are not wholly unique?"

  "...it didn't until you mentioned it."

  The call came in the morning, less than two weeks after the bomb incident. Another job.

  First, though, a routine evaluation of the magical beast's affinity to its partner, which Shrike protested on the basis of wanting to avoid the military base again without the promise of the heat room. She was easily swayed with both a short explanation of and a promise to acquire a heated blanket.

  She follows close behind Martin, making eye contact with every guard who so much as glances at her, as the hunters enter the industrial concrete building for the second time. The MBR building, short for Magical Beast Research. A sub-department of the more expansive Counter-Magic branch of the military.

  Hunters are not soldiers, but they are government employees. They're given a lot of leeway, as due to the volatility of magical beasts, it requires specialized knowledge and approaches that don't suit traditional soldiers well.

  Dr. Stolatz spreads his arms in welcome. "Good morning, Martin C and KD0-"

  "Shrike C, now." Her mouth smiles. Behind the blindfold is a mystery.

  "Yes, of course. Now, we have a three-part test today. If you would follow me to the training yard..."

  He leads them both through the building to a central courtyard, walled off on all sides with thick metal. The ground is pale brown dust and dirt, pounded flat, with only the occasional lonely weed struggling up.

  "First test, command and return... I apologize in advance for this. Martin, if you could direct your partner to the center of the courtyard..."

  Martin starts to chuckle a bit, as Shrike takes off her blindfold before speaking. "A difficult one. Truly an important examination for an elite hunting unit."

  It's a challenge, but Martin stifles more laughter. "Yep. Go to the center of the courtyard, if you can."

  Shrike walks to the center of the large yard.

  "Now," Stolatz advises Martin, "you have to communicate to her to return."

  "OKAY! COME BACK!" He shouts, intentionally close to Stolatz's ear. Shrike walks back, wondering if this was intended to make her feel embarrassed for being captured. If that was the intention, it is successful.

  Stolatz makes a few checkmarks on his clipboard. "Okay. Next, a simple retrieval..." He takes out a small foam ball from his pocket, and throws it into the field. "Please order your partner to find and return the ball."

  Martin groans. "Go, my valiant ally, seek down the elusive sphere and return it forthwith." He points dramatically out to the field.

  Shrike walks into the field, picking up the ball, and returning it to Martin. She's glad Stolatz has such a weak arm.

  "Test three, and the most important." He withdraws a small remote, and presses a two buttons in sequence. Three separate wooden cutouts depicting a man, a woman, and an urayuli spring from the ground. "Please direct your partner to attack only the urayuli."

  Martin hides his mouth to keep from smiling too broadly. "Shrike, how are you feeling today?"

  "Emotionally, my opinion on Stolatz has negatively altered my mood somewhat. If you mean physically, I am near my peak."

  "Good, good. Maybe if you impress him, we can get him to let us skip the next one of these. Do what you want, just don't damage the other two." He looks forward to seeing Stolatz's face when she shreds the cutout with glowing spikes.

  "Per your request." She closes her eyes, taking a long and deep breath, raising a grasping hand to the sky.

  There are no spikes this time.

  A swirling vortex hovers above her head, painfully bright light drifting around a void of perfect darkness. Stolatz takes a step back. Martin stands straight, but averts his eyes from the void.

  With wide eyes snapping open, she yanks her hand down into a fist, and the void collapses into a beam of concentrated light. Stolatz and Martin both have to turn away to avoid being blinded. When they look back, there is no more urayuli cutout. Where it was now lays an angled, burning hole in the earth. In its center, a newly created fulgurite disc, melted in place.

  Shrike shivers in her thick clothing, turning back to stare at Stolatz's face with her own, now slightly unhinged smile. "My t-temperature storage is l-linear." She returns, teeth chattering, to Martin's side.

  "I assume we passed?" Martin asks.

  Stolatz looks at both of them, shivering for a moment as well, before nodding quickly.

  "Great. Time to buy a heated blanket." Martin waves behind him without looking and starts the walk back to the Jeep, careful to not betray just how scared he was by the display.

  "You were afraid." Shrike is cocooned beneath her pile of blankets, including a new heated one plugged into the car's solitary outlet. Only her face is visible.

  "Nope." Martin adjusts his rear-view mirror to avoid Shrike's eyes. "That reminds me... question for question?"

  "Very well, but I will query first. Were you afraid?"

  He sighs in exasperation. It's like talking to a toddler mixed with a nuclear weapon. "Yes."

  "Truth, at last." She seems content with the answer.

  "My turn. Why aren't you hibernating?" He adjusts the mirror back to look at Shrike. "You could easily store what you need with modern technology, and go embed yourself somewhere deeper in the mountains."

  Shrike takes a moment, before pulling off the blanket wrapped around her head. "I will only say if you swear this to be an official business question."

  "I swear."

  "...I am unbothered by being a unique creature. Yet, some part of me seems to share the human desire for companionship with others. You, Moth, and Ferret are acceptable for this need, and I am hoping to meet more like you who are... resilient. Your profession routinely has you face threats beyond your capacity, making you ideal should an unknown calamity strike."

  She sinks a bit further beneath the blankets. "My last few periods of activity between hibernations after I slew that conquistador were short and spent alone, as I mourned something long distant from my memory. I do not fully understand the requirements for entering hibernation, but if it is avoidable, I intend to stay awake for some time."

  Martin keeps driving, letting only the hum of wind against the Jeep fill the silence between them.