A/N: Hey look, a chapter. Neat.

...yeah, that's all I really got to say right now. Yup.

Disclaimer: I do not own Twokinds. I rather not own it, anyways; my drawings look like a five-year-old tried to imitate Picasso and somehow made it worse.

It was a pretty great morning.

I woke up feeling pretty cramped and beat up, and there's probably a ludicrous amount of bruises covering my body, but it's better than suddenly appearing in a cage stark naked with a ten-year-old curled up in the corner and surrounded by psychopathic bandits that want to butcher me.

Yeah, that was one hell of a day, excluding what happened before I fell asleep. And the whole 'I got wings, legs, and forearms like you wouldn't believe; literally' thing. And the fact that I'm now responsible for the aforementioned ten-year-old, who may or may not be having the worst time of her life.

...alright, yesterday was the worst, and I'll leave it at that.

Waking up was decent, even though there was a thin layer of dew on me which was a weird sensation – and a cold one, burr – but it was something I could live with. At some point I ended up on my stomach, almost rolling off the makeshift sleeping mat in my sleep. Honestly, the wings make it a pain to sleep; I've always slept on my back – with varying levels of spread-eagle, but still – and now that is a bit awkward to do since, you know, wings.

I'm starting to feel a bit concerned about how far this whole turning into a dragon thing is going to go, but that's a problem for me in a couple of hours; this is still morning me.

Looking over while letting out a massive yawn, I see that Keith had already skedaddled off somewhere. Probably still stuck in that whole... whatever his problem is with privacy. For all I know, he could sleep in the buff and he can't exactly do that if I'm around.

Gentlemanly, Hey, Maria! There's my awesome mind dragon. But what if he wasn't holding back, hmm?

And... there goes her title of 'awesome'. Or maybe you could stop being so horny and remember what I said last night. Were you even paying attention or-

Oh my, how could I not notice how much of a bore I am?

I'm barely out of my teens, and he's still one! Holy shit, Maria; calm your tits.

Breaking the stray though of do dragons even have those over a metaphorical leg, my other thoughts do drift back to last night; specifically the talk with a certain Fuzzball. I'd admit, I was a bit bitchy towards him at first, but it was mostly me not wanting a repeat of what happened last time Keith and I got into an argument that led me to swallowing my pride and listening to him.

And? It was worth it. He isn't the best person at apologizing, but it definitely got the message across. He was sorry, and – perhaps a stray hope – maybe a silent admission of him trying to be better. Perhaps extended contact with the other two without me did him some good.

…still need to ask what happened while I was gone.

And, I direct to Maria, a deep feeling of exasperation flooding from me. I'm not going to deal with anything remotely involving romance. I still need a few years to get on my feet before I can deal with that. That, and get out of Greenville; as much as living near my parents makes me feel the warm and fuzzies, I'd like to see other places. Like New York City.

Well, Maria says, a smug tone in her voice. This isn't exactly the Big Apple, but you're certainly not in Greenville, anymore. Besides, who said anything about being romantic? I was thinking more along the lines of a stress reliever than-

-And suddenly I'm losing interest, would you look at that. I think of slamming a door shut on the overgrown mind-lizard, and surprisingly her voice cuts out.

"Huh, didn't think that would work." I mumble to myself. Who knew that shutting someone out like they're a door salesman would do the trick.

Finally deciding that being left alone to my thoughts is a bad idea, I slowly get up, my body creaking in ways that sound a bit worrying. After letting out another jaw-breaking yawn – and totally not having a minor freak out at the fact that my tongue is much thinner and forked than humanly possible – I fix the knot keeping my shirt together in the back and look over to the nearby tent.

Then I walk over, seeing how x-ray vision isn't something I'm capable of, and pat a bit at the entrance flap. "Morning, sunshine! How're you holding up?"

"...mmm... five more minutes..." I hear from inside. Gwen sounds beyond tired, and to be honest I wouldn't blame her. I still don't know the full story behind her, but I'm smart enough to notice that it's probably far from great.

"Alright, you can sleep in. I'll try to save some breakfast for ya, alright?" I turn and go to move towards the center of camp-

"Grrk!" I let out a pained grunt as the feeling of my spine being tugged out shoots through my tailbone, looking behind me to see...

Oh, right. I have an actual tail now. Looking down, I see a small fur covered hand holding onto said tail. Trailing the arm that the hand is connected to, I see Gwyneth looking at me with these giant, shiny gray orbs. "...breakfast?"

Her quiet voice blocks out most of the pain, and I can't help but smile softly at her. "Yup; most important meal of the day, and Fuzzball is cooking. He's not half bad, if that's what has you scared."

"..." She lets go of my tail – finally; kid's got a grip – as she slides out of the tent. I still can't get over how thin she looks, as if a sneeze could knock her over. She must've not even anything for a while; that, or...

…

"C'mon, kitten," I wrap an arm around her shoulders, bracing her against me. She leans into my side, but doesn't cling to me like last night. While my side thanks whatever is up there for that, a part of me hopes that I'm not being too... much.

I didn't exactly do that well the first time with young people having fragile mental states, knowing my track record.

As we make our way over there, where I see Flora looking around for something – or someone, as I can't see anyone else either – I hear Gwen speak up. "I'm not scared."

I look back down at her, and I have to hold back a laugh at how determined she looks at me, which honestly only makes her look cuter. How humanity over here – and select others – could be so cruel to them, I'm having a harder and harder time seeing how. "That's good, sunshine." I give her a smile, which she doesn't return.

Well, gotta start somewhere.

Soon, we get closer to Flora – who still isn't wearing pants, damnit – and I give a wave that she doesn't seem to catch. "Morning, Flora. We have anything left to eat this morn-"

-and suddenly she's right up in my personal space again. "Have you seen the guys?"

"You really don't have a concept of personal space, do you?" Then her question comes through. "And no, I haven't; I just woke up and convinced Gwen to eat food. Why'd you ask?"

She sort of squirms in place for a bit, wringing the hem of her shirt. "I-I need to tell Trace about something... important, that's about to happen."

…

I look over her shoulder, and behold, there's some amount of small forest animals that have been cooked, and I swear I can still smell the scent of it's greasy goodness from all the way over here. I give give Gwen a pat on the back and nod over to said meal. "Go help yourself, sunshine; I got some things to do, first."

She doesn't even give me a nod, leaving my side and practically bolting over to the meat with a predatory glint in her eyes.

I laugh lightly, and I even see some of the worry bleed out of Flora at the sight of the kid. The older tiger looks back over to me, a slightly exasperated look on her face that's ruined by the smile she has. "You know, I really should get your side of the story."

I give her a raised brow; she wants my side of the story? I mean, it was kinda my fault that I wasn't paying attention and they left me behind, but they should've noticed something, right? Then again...

I look down at my body, holding up clawed hands that look so... alien on me. This does warrant some sort of explanation, I guess.

"Well," I look up to Flora. "Long story short; I got lost, wandered around for a bit, then the weirdos happened and I lost everything but a stick and found a kid in trouble. Good news is that apparently I only got beat up for a few minutes before I brained the head honcho, the bad news is, well..." I wave my arms around, and I can feel the two new additions to my back wiggling themselves. "Yeah, it got worse."

"That, and," I give a few test steps, legs wobbling a bit. "I really wish I didn't have to repeat the first few years of my life and relearn how to friggin' walk. You know, normal things about life, as you do. You're still not wearing any pants, again."

Flora, who looked to be a hop and a skip away from laughing at how badly I'm walking, suddenly looked up at me with a questioning look. "What?" She looks down at herself.

Still waddling my way through the camp, I slowly make my way over to what looked like an untouched waterskin – thanks, Keith – and look back to her with a raised brow. "You have a surprising tendency to not notice your own wardrobe malfunctions, Flo. I mean really..." I then shoot back the water, quenching the dry feeling in my mouth while still balancing on my feet. The tail, surprisingly, helps a lot, even though it involves a little too much contact with the ground to help-

"Well I normally wear nothing; clothes really rub my fur the wrong way, and-" Flora starts, before I suddenly inhale some of the water and start going into a coughing fit. She looks over to me suddenly. "Dawn, are you alright?"

I hack for a few seconds, holding a hand to my chest and the other in front of me in a gesture that I hope says 'I am alright, please don't freak out', before I look up at her in disbelief. "You normally wear nothing?!"

She rolls her eyes, crossing her arms. "Yes, Dawn, I'm normally the type to be 'in the fur' more than not. You've been traveling with us for how long, and you didn't think about that?"

"No!" I half yell, half sigh. "I was... busy."

"Doing what? We're in the middle of a forest, there isn't a lot to do in here with four people, if you haven't even noticed that."

"Look, this whole adventuring thing isn't exactly something I'm used to, so first off that definitely keeps me plenty occupied. And second," I wobble forwards a bit, stumbling slightly to get back to Flora. "You'll have to excuse me, but back where I'm from, public indecency is very much against the law, so excuse me for acting like there's a stick up my ass. And third- Keith?"

Sure enough, as I was ranting my head off at the poor tiger, I managed to snatch a glimpse over her shoulder to see a certain basitin that has been missing all morning. He looks... more Keith-like than usual, from the looks of things, as he most likely makes his way towards... somewhere.

"Is he... sulking?" I hear Flora say next to me. I look over to her with a raised brow.

"I know, right? It's honestly his default state, if you ask me; when I first met him back at that inn, he was sitting in the corner looking all dark and broody like some sort of teenage heartthrob." At the silence that greets me, I look next to me-

-only to find that Flora suddenly disappeared. Before I could question where she ran off to – really, how fast is she? – I hear a sudden feline, very much Flora yowl come from a bush off somewhere off to the side, accompanied by a shout that distinctly sounded like Trace. Guess she found her boyfriend, then. That solves that tangent, now...

"Will you be alright by yourself for a bit, Gwyneth?" I shoot over my shoulder. Looking over said shoulder shows the poor kid gorging herself with breakfast, and what looks suspiciously like my serving. I mumble, "Well, there goes my... whatever that was. Food..." And I start walking dumbly forwards, after a certain storm brewing in a specific long-eared dork.

It takes me a couple of minutes, but I finally figured out what the deal is with my weird-ass lizard legs. I think there was some sort of theory going on with bone structures, a long while back in high-school, that dealt with saying that most skeletons in animals (humans included) have mostly the same types of bones, but they're all either stretched or shrunk to the point that a whale has what once looked like the possibility for legs and humans have a tailbone. Or something along those lines; it's been a stressful couple of weeks back then.

The point I'm trying to make is that, with the way my new kicks – literally – are like, I'm basically stuck in a perpetual runners position. Or a constant tip-toe, from what I first mumbled to myself.

After that, it was a bit easier to move around, but I can't help but feel like I'm always wearing... heels...

Dammit, I knew there was a catch to never having to wear heels ever again.

Out of the frying pan and into the fire, huh? A certain voice echoes in my head.

I let out a sigh. "You're not going to try and make me seduce Keith again, are you? I'm kind of in the middle of something, if you haven't noticed. Besides, didn't I shut the mental door on-" Cue sudden wobbling of legs, where I right myself before my face introduces itself with the forest floor. I've done enough of that, last night.

…

Hon... Maria starts off, voice quiet. When did I stop walking? We need to talk about last night. Whatever is happening to you, it's spreading, and while we've been pushing it off, it's been getting harder on my end.

That last part hooked onto my faltering attention, shaking my head. "Harder on your end? What, is that whole talk about suppressing my outbursts more work than you thought?"

Vaguely, I feel a distant thought remind me that I probably wasn't the epitome of human health – if I'm even one, anymore – seeing how, logically, I had a lot of evidence pointing towards the opposite. I did have a minor – read: major – meltdown where I hid in the woods for an hour or so, and then got completely and utterly wasted the next day. 'Course, not long after, the whole 'dragonizing' happened and that was two weeks – closer to three, actually – ago, along with getting a weird as hell stick that's pretty much an archaic super soaker.

Damn, and here I thought I would at least hit my thirties before something went horribly wrong.

I mean that you overwhelmed me, then killed someone with your bare claws-

"Hands." I absentmindedly corrected.

I could practically feel the eye roll. Whatever makes you feel more comfortable, hon. What I'm trying to get at, however, is that the first time you lost control, you ended up passing out and sprouting horns. The second time, you had that heart-to-heart with Keith and woke up with a tail the next day. And now, you went berserk and crushed a man's head – who was much stronger than you a minute earlier – with your changed appearance.

"So... high amounts of emotion triggers a change, is what you're saying?" I think back, but there's one slight problem with our theory. "Then why did I get my first change happen- better question, how come this never happened back home? I'm most definitely lacking when, well, Danny happened. Even then, I had a breakdown days before the horns happened. Unless being drunk counts, in which case that sucks, but still; why did this all-"

"Why are you talking to yourself?"

I whip my body around, and something that surprised me more than the sudden voice was the fist that I had raised and thrown with my body. I saw a blur of sandy brown and a hint of amber before it suddenly wasn't there-

CRACK!

...fucking... "Ow?" I said to myself, and in that moment a few things happened at once: One, is that I now registered the voice as Keith, and glancing over a bit shows a ruffled, if annoyed, basitin. Second, my arm still connected with something, and that something was the trunk of a tree, and for some reason, decking a tree full-tilt like that had me expecting some pain, if not a dislocated finger or two. Instead, other than a slight sting, I felt my hand coast fairly well through the left hook I threw.

The third thing, however, was connected to the second: my hand kept going, and now it's finished it's course as it rests tucked in close to my body.

As in I punched off a good chunk of a tree with nothing but my bare hand.

Taking my third look at the tree, I heard a creaking sound, and part of my automatically takes a step or two to the right, and slowly – as if physics itself wasn't expecting that punch – the tree feel down with a mighty slam.

After that, it could be best explained as one of the most awkward silences I've ever had, period.

I looked up to Keith.

He looked up to me.

"...Sorry?" I try my best at an apologetic smile, but it feels like a grimace born out of shock more than anything.

It takes a moment, but Keith just facepalms, as if I just told him a bad pun instead of almost taking his head off of his shoulders.

"Only you..." He sighs from behind his hand, as it slowly drags its way down his face and leaving behind a tired-looking basitin. He probably didn't sleep well, going by the general lack of that life that people have in the morning.

I carefully step over the fallen tree, watching as a squirrel runs like the destroyer of worlds just chopped down its home. Looking back at him, I try – and succeed – at a second smile. "So you didn't die of embarrassment in the middle of the night; mazel tov and all that."

He looks like he's about to shoot back something probably equally snarky, but he stops himself, looking quizzically at me. "...Mazel tov?" He then shakes his head. "Nevermind, probably another one of your strange things from home."

"Nah, Ma always said that the only one that's allowed to be strange is this surgeon that she highly respects; some doctor that has probably one of the unluckiest last names ever and something to do with the nervous system."

At his blank look, I bluntly say, "He's a brain surgeon."

His look suddenly looks wary. "Your people mess with brains?"

"Well no, but- well..." I cock my head to the side. "I don't know much medical stuff, but from what I know, neurosurgeons just try to fix stuff that damages the nervous system; what the brain controls, what makes you feel things, what makes you, well, you."

A pause.

Then- "There's something wrong with your homeland."

"Hey." I say, trying to sound offended, but the lopsided smile on my face says otherwise. "Anyways- wait, no, stop." I suddenly whirl around and gesture with both of my hands at the fallen tree. "Did you just see what I did?! I just fucking decked the shit out of that tree!" I then look at my hands, which haven't been covered in scales and tipped with claws for a day yet.

…

"Keith." I say, not looking away from my hands. "What's wrong?"

At the silence that met me, I slowly look over to him, going from his feet and trying to make my way to his face, but before I could, I caught something being grasped in his hand, which has never stopped being tightened into a fist and crumpling it.

"...That's not a love letter, is it?" At the further tensing of his form, I let out a sigh. "Keith, what the hell. I just said last night-"

"It's not from you!"

"..." I froze, stopping to stare at the basitin, which so happens to have his hackles literally raised. "I'm sorry what." I didn't even have it in me to make it sound like a question.

He seems to realize what he said, and a look of horror makes its way across his face. "I-... I didn't..." For a while afterwards, he's just a mumbling mess of one word phrases, and part of me is thankful, because I'm no better on the inside.

Well, that was unexpected. Maria adds.

You're not helping. I tell her. Taking a better look at the crumpled piece of paper in Keith's hand, I notice something odd about it. It looks old. And crumpled to hell.

An old piece of paper, that might or might not be a love letter, that was not from Keith, but to him. Which he just so happens to have crumpled even further in his fist. The fact that he even has one is out of place, unless there's an odd number of basitins just hanging around here, somewhere.

Unless...

…

"Nevermind."

He almost doesn't seem to register it at first. "'Nevermind?'"

I shrug. "Nevermind; I don't need to know." And with that said, I twist myself as if going, then give him a look. "Coming? Or do you need a bit more time for yourself?"

He's quiet for a moment, and the look on his face like he wants to run away slowly bleeds into relief, then back into that expression of tired mixed with I'm-so-done-with-everything.

"I'll come with you." And then there's a ghost of a smile on his face, idly tucking away the paper into a pocket.

I smile back, starting to walk back to camp. "Good, 'cause I think Gwen is eating my portion and I suck at cookin- aw FUC-"

I fall flat on my face, and while some part of me is happy that Keith is feeling better, he doesn't have to rub it in by laughing at me. Or...

"Oh, I'll give you something to laugh at, you little shit!"

"Ahaha- wait, Dawn nonono-"

….

Not too much longer. Only one more week...

….

One more week, then I can be whole.

I watch from above, unseen in a tree, at the small tussle between my target and the basitin it has become... attached to. After the indignation flashes over the target and they wrestled on the forest floor, they devolved into idiotic laughter for a while.

A smile on my target's face, so beautiful, so perfect, so...

Mine.

A/N: Ho boy, it's been a year and a whole bunch of crises in between. Yeesh, it's like the powers that be decided to throw darts at a board and pick which one this week we get.

On a note related to this story, it has been 'the-worst-no-good-terrible-awful' case of writers block, and then a whole two months of not touching this story, thinking I need more only to just go with it.

On another note; I am 74% certain that Tom just completely ignored the details about keidrans in the earlier parts of the comic? Like, the concept of 'Feral Keidrans' is brought up near the end of chapter five and never comes back up, ever. Same goes with Flora and whether she can read or not; Flora in chapter... either Five or Six, reads a piece of Laura's letter to Keith to show that Laura exists, then a few chapters down has Flora telling Katherine that she can't read.

For a person that's trying to have little moments happen in my next chapter, this made me go ballistic on if this stuff is still story-relevant to canon or not.

Tl;dr: My brain hurts because of Tom, and I need to sleep more. Have a good night, readers.

P.S: Fun fact; I have other stories, including a new one that I posted. I call it the 'Force It Out' saga, and it's super new and I like it and, and and-

Please take a look, at least to tell me if it deserves a sticker with the word 'nice' written on it.