“Uhm,” I stammer when the peculiar wet seal-skinned mare addresses me—even though I’d been expecting her to speak, I hadn’t expected those words to come from her mouth.

She asks where I’m from, apparently surprised that I recognize the species of her five-headed companion, and (unintentionally or not) suddenly throws me into a spotlight I have long-since been trying to avoid. Uumalah, the pleasure oasis. It is a desert city full of life and bright colors, also brimming with sinful promises and the blackest secrets: my home, the only home I had ever known before finally fleeing to Helovia.

I am not proud of where I have come from, of what immoral deeds I have (been forced into) partaken in, or of what have I done (because you cannot live in such filth without becoming filth yourself). I lower my eyes to the red sands—so eerily, hauntingly familiar—and manage to answer her inquiry after a longer-than-normal pause: “I’m from Uumalah. It’s in Dorobo.” I try not to shuffle my weight, instead flicking the impossibly long length of my tail around my narrow hips.

Desperate not to lose myself in wounds and memories now, I clear my throat (twice), and take a deep, shuddering breath before pushing forward. “I’ve only seen one or two before, and never this close,” I explain clumsily to the mare, forcing my eyes to raise from beneath the shelter of my lashes.

Mercifully, she—the crafter—doesn’t waste time in much more conversation, and instead offers me a key of my own, which I take with a murmured, “Thank you.” Perhaps I should have expected some sort of rush of freedom, or relief, but any chance of that is effectively squashed when more people arrive. First there is a bird turning into a stallion, which probably would have roused more amazement from me if I weren’t so distracted with the sudden thundering of my heart, and I find myself lowering my head, allowing a curtain of hair to fall between myself and the stranger. And then there’s this itty bitty thing buzzing up to us with a voice much too loud and exuberant for my liking.

Before I even realize what I’m doing, I’m backing away from the crowd, my ears folded back uncertainly and my nostrils flaring. I would have disappeared right there if Sunjata’s voice hadn’t snagged me then.

My eyes snap to him, and I stare for a moment, trying to think past the panic that rages in my mind. “I am, I think,” I offer the blue jay feebly, shifting the angle of my body so that—at least by eyesight—the winged man shields me from the others. “I haven’t had much opportunity to explore Helovia yet,” I dangle the key pointedly, huffing something that’s supposed to be a chuckle. It’s flat, but I don’t really care.

“Speech.”