Dechala was realizing that being the leader was a lot harder than she assumed it would be. If she'd known at the time how complicated leadership was and how much of an energy desert this world was, she'd have stuck with the boss from the beginning. Now, she was the de facto boss, or captain, since the group had changed the title. Even then, the situation was complicated, as she wasn't even that. She was first mate and the human was supposed to be the captain, since he'd won by the rules of combat. Of course, they'd never follow him, since hellhounds never, and she put emphasis on never, gave in to human will. At least they weren't supposed to.

To top it all off, hellhounds also rarely grouped together at all, so there was little precedent for this sort of thing. Gusoyn blew that out of the water when she suddenly decided to join the human on his journey. Dechala's position was only supported by the spontaneous decision of a human, a power vacuum created by their leader basically leaving them, and the crew's new obsession with pirate culture("because every crew's gotta have a cap'n!). Inside her, she felt a pang of betrayal. Why would Gusoyn leave her pack for a human? Of course now, the reason was obvious, but it still hurt.

Morale wasn't the best either. One of them had broken their arm to a hidden explosive device. It was badly mauled, but if any of them were human, it would have been destroyed entirely. Apparently, some humans had left some traps on their way out of town. After they'd avenged their sister, Dechala interrogated the nerdier-looking serfs until she found one who knew what the trap was. She then got him busy recreating it, so the crew knew the smell and could sense another, then maybe pay the humans back. She noticed the man looked pessimistic, but continued through lack of choice.

She sat up on the bed and stared out the window of the long haul truck cabin she was in. She'd picked up the trucker a day ago. He'd been surprisingly cooperative. After being told of the chaos outside, threatened with his life, and then being presented some ass, he was more than happy to dump his cargo and have his trailer be turned into the new "flagship" of their "fleet". The cabin was strangely luxurious; Dechala didn't consider cargo haulers to be on the wealthier end of the social spectrum. Maybe he transported precious metals. The man himself was rather rugged, steadfast, amicable, and although somewhat pudgy, wielded a godlike jawline. He also looked good in flannel and smelled of oil. Overall, she thought he was a good pick, not that he had a choice. Currently, he was snoring away on the other side of the bed.

They would have to move in the morning, but Dechala was staring out of the window wondering why that was. She'd given the order, because that's what the human Gusoyn (and her group) was following was doing. However, that begged the question as to why they even were. Did they know? Was it like those flocks of birds that, when suddenly one flew, they all took off? Everyone else was flying, so they did as well. Of course, that human was the only one she'd been able to sense with significant spirit energy. The other ones were barely cutting it. The crew was eating more food than usual to compensate, and the idea of living off energy alone was out of the question.

She held her tricorn hat she'd looted from the costume shop. The whole pirate gimmick was funny… back then. She participated for laughs, but she just didn't have as much desire to stick with it as the rest of them. It was like a joke that had been running for so long, nobody was able to return to the way it was. Still, it was a position that was put upon her. Maybe she'd get used to it, or even learn to enjoy it. For now, she was just tired. What does someone whose goal was to consume spiritual energy do when she's suddenly found in a place that has very little? She believed Gusoyn asked that same question and moved on. Dechala kept trying to convince herself that the ex-leader must have had good and unselfish reasons; that maybe this was some kind of great test to see how the rest of the pack would do without her. Maybe.

Clearly, the horde to the north started to move, and she'd have to be stupid to not know why. Maybe she would follow ahead of them and rejoin Gusoyn. Hopefully they could take the human and somehow run. No, that would be impossible. They would sense him and rip anything or anyone in between apart. Gods help them if the horde actually caught up.

Dechala actually had a small secret. Unlike the vast majority of hellhounds, she was modestly talented in magic. Rather than simply being able to sense energy or burn hers, she was able to manipulate it. Self-taught, she tended to keep this to herself. Casters were viewed, putting it mildly, as colossal nerds among the crew. When she had the opportunity, she would practice or experiment. She was now, and produced a small, smokeless flame in the palm of her hand. That was it, just a small candle flame without a candle. That's all there was and she was happy with it. She focused on it and then played with it some. She changed the size, the shape, and eventually juggled it between her hands. She liked the subtle things. There were times when she'd gotten too confident. They'd questioned her when she inexplicably found water, or jumped farther than people thought possible, or how everyone chasing her tended to trip over the earth. They were confused about how every wild animal they'd come across seemed to adore her. Deep down, she felt Gusoyn had secretly known, but said nothing.

Being sensitive to such things meant that she could feel the background buzz of the nearby horde. It was there, like a distant, yet constant demented scream. It ebbed and flowed, but she'd noticed over the past few days that it was growing. It wasn't just growing in volume. It was progressively getting more intense and more unhinged. She actually wasn't looking forward to the past few nights because, when everything was quiet, the twisted psychic background static created by whatever was happening north of her was the only thing to hear. It made her irritable if she let it get to her. Sleep wasn't bad, but the noise followed her in her dreams as well. She worried if it was eating away at her sanity just by proxy. She hoped anyone sensitive close to the epicenter had left beforehand. The constant collective interference would have driven anyone mad. As much of the "fearless leader" persona she put on, she admitted to herself that the unfiltered manifestation of the mob mentality scared her a little. She didn't want to be near it, much less face it.

Truth be told, it was only since she'd encountered the human that she'd started slowly having less in common with the rest of the mamano. The crew had already been an independent group to start with, but when they discussed joining the greater group, there was a great lack of interest. Dechala and everyone there still had their instincts and enjoyed them to the fullest, but now it felt like they had gained a hint of insight.

She used to get along with the other unholy denizens of the underworld where she previously lived. Ever since her encounter with the human, she'd had more and more trouble being around them. The imps were screechy little brats. The demons constantly ran an obnoxious amount of mental gymnastics to the point where casual conversation was impossible. The alps were just… unnerving. She knew she'd never had any trouble with them a few weeks ago, but now it was impossible to remember how she stood being in their presence.

She'd had very little respect for humanity beforehand, but now some of them were joining the ranks as converted succubi. Right now, all of them were of the lesser form; It would take a few days for this to go into full effect. Thing was, they were the worst ones.

Sharing the metaphorical neighborhood with demonic creatures meant Dechala had seen some pretty interesting kinks. Half of the ones she knew just from them. However, at the end of the day, nobody held a candle to the humans. Oh, some of them ran at first; They were the standard ones. It was the ones that turned around with a smile and charged toward conversion that were the most twisted. She'd personally seen a woman, three minutes into her new life as a lesser succubus, do the most dementedly creative things to a poor soul on top of a dining room table. Three other demons were there, along with Dechala watching. They all stood and watched her find random household items and then take enormous amounts of delight once she thought of something to do with them. The man started screaming at the five minute mark, and she just met him in volume. All of the mamano, born and raised to try the same, could not move a muscle.

After what seemed like forever, she realized the man had passed out. She hopped off of the table and looked directly at Dechala. For the second time in her life, the hellhound was intimidated. She looked into the pair of bloodshot eyes that seemed to be an infinite wellspring of emotions and desires. A lot of people would want to describe it as a death of something and a birth of something else, but it wasn't. It was simply a realization; a true casting away of restraint. The daemonette could do whatever she wanted, and nothing short of death would stop her. She had no ties and nothing to lose. Morality be damned. After Dechala got a glimpse at someone who had bested her at her own game, the woman casually walked out the door and left a trail of fluids.

Dechala wondered if the humans here were the same as the ones in her world, because this one just walked away uncaring of the other mamano around her. She also wondered what kept other mamano together, if anything at all. They had the same ultimate goals in mind, but was there anything more to create a sense of solidarity? She hadn't thought of that until recently.

I awoke finding myself lying on my back in the grass. The evening sun shone over the plains. I looked around without moving, and learned I was still where I left myself. Autriel was also where I last left her, jammed inside a bush. I could only see her legs and tail sticking out of it, and could hear her snoring. I also felt a chill and realized that any clothing on me had also been incinerated. Unfortunately, I realized it also meant my phone had been destroyed as well. I had been pretty diligent with backing it up, but that was a major disappointment. I saw the tree and the cone of blackened grass, and slowly pulled myself up.

Gusoyn was also where she was last left as well. She was already awake and looking at me. I whispered, "Hi. You doing okay?" She was silent for a few seconds, then responded, "Yeah. I have a splitting headache." I stood up and shuffled towards the burned tree and asked, "You feeling nauseous?" She leaned back towards the cracked trunk and said, "No, I don't think I've hurt my head too badly." I answered, "Great." and began sifting through the ash, hoping my phone and wallet hadn't been destroyed. I was disappointed to find a hand-sized blob of plastic and metal, with the remains of leather nearby. I had lost any means of communication or identification. Wonderful, and I was getting hungry, too.

Gusoyn somehow managed to read my mind. She said, "I'm hungry. Think there's anything inside that house, or what's left of it? Also, do you want to wake Autriel?"

I looked back at the dragon in a bush. "I'll give her a little longer and scavenge the house before I do it. For now, she's got the world to herself. Dream on." There was nothing of value to be found in the house, especially foodstuffs. Power had been cut out long ago, and nonperishable foods in the pantry were missing. I went back and shook Autriel's bush. "Hey. Get up."

From inside the leaves, I heard, "I am… awake. Why in bush?" I sighed and said, "It's a long story." Suddenly, a clawed hand with an index finger pointed toward the sky burst through the bush. Slurred speech came from inside it. "But, it is a story I have read… and reviewed. I rate eight out of eight; would read again." I kept the conversation going by asking, "Yeah, and what was the genre?"

There was a long pause, followed by, "post-apocalyptic". I was a little taken aback, "I didn't know you guys had that genre yet." She started shuffling around in the bush and said, "Humanity went through a weird End-Times phase a few decades ago. Books from that time were really depressing and always stayed around because nobody wanted them." I mockingly said, "Nerd."

The finger returned, this time pointed at me. "You are thunderously lucky I'm not awake enough to get myself out of this bush." There was silence for a while, then I asked, "Are you hungry?" She answered, "No, I'm full. You still have to eat, though. Help me out of this." I did so, and then we all mosied our way to the car. I had left the keys inside, which in any other scenario, would have been disastrous.

Behind me, Gusoyn lightly punched Autriel on the shoulder and whispered, "Proud of you." The dragon responded with, "Oh shut up."

Fairfield was the closest town, and it was a ways away. I also started to notice that the air was quite chilly. Autriel agreed to start generating heat, like some kind of winged space heater. Last I checked my phone, yesterday was actually Halloween, which meant today was All Saint's Day. I thought that was funny, but didn't know why. I just started the car and drove off.

I broke the silence and asked what home was like for the other two. They actually perked up at this question. Autriel, now woken up, responded first. "Well, it's mostly dark. There's far less difference between the sun and moon there. All the colors are different, too; Pink rivers, black trees, and red moons. A lot of the flora also give off their own light. You've actually seen it before, back when we dumped off the meat. The air is a lot more humid, and there's more stuff in it. I lived in the mountains, and the realms tend to be closer and more intense to sea level, so I haven't been in it for long periods of time. That being said, humans might find it oppressive and alien, but it's always pleasant for me. Regardless, I think home is something you make, but I assumed by your question you meant my native environment." I turned to Gusoyn and said, "What about you?"

She continued picking plaster dust out of her fur and said, "I lived near a volcanic vent in the same mountain range as Autriel's actually. I liked the whole area. Lava, heat, rocks, and steam were always really pretty to me. It was kind of chaotic, yet powerful. Stuff was always happening and changing. I've hung around mamano realms for a while, and they're nice, but home is always home." I responded, "Fair enough".

Gusoyn was quiet for a second, then leaned over toward me and looked at the dashboard. She pointed at the speedometer. "The zero on that means we're not moving, right?" I answered, "Yes."

"And the red pointer shows how fast we're going."

"Yes."

"So, that would mean the hundred and twenty is the fastest this construct can go, right?"

"Again, yes. What's your point?"

"Why aren't we going that fast, then?"

"The speed limit. We have to go at that speed."

"What's this about lemons?"

"No, a limit. Our speed is limited."

"By what, the sign we just passed? What happens when we break this limit?"

"We get pulled over by the police."

Gusoyn shrugged. "Do you really think they have the manpower to stop one person in the middle of all this? Even if they see you, they'll probably think you're running from one of us. Come on, a little advantage of the chaos."

I winced, "You're probably right, but I've never driven at that speed before."

"The road is more or less straight and has been for days. You are nude and hungry."

"You think I'm not aware of that? I figured I'd just not address one of those things and save myself at least some of the awkwardness."

"The point is, it's every man for himself. You are not going to get anything right now by following rules that can't be enforced."

I considered for a moment. Then, almost subconsciously, I switched the cruise control off. I placed my foot on the accelerator, and slowly depressed it. The speedometer hit eighty, then ninety, and right at a hundred was when I started grinning. Something in me must have snapped, because a few seconds later I was uncontrollably giggling like a kid who'd gotten his hands on something he wasn't supposed to. The wind was deafening. Autriel looked up from the girly magazine she'd found under the seat and had a look of minor concern. Gusoyn looked back and waved her hand reassuringly with a smug look on her face.

Imagine seeing a station wagon zooming by on the highway. It's going double what it's supposed to be and the moderate engine inside isn't used to those speeds. The driver's door is missing entirely, and the person at the wheel is wearing nothing but a maniacal look on his face. Inside are two mamano. One is whooping and hollering with her upper half sticking out the window, while the other is silently in the back reading a porno mag.

If any police had seen me, they'd have probably tased me on the spot and then torn apart the car in search of every drug imaginable.

My slow descent into insanity aside, I'd like to insert something into the story, with the author's permission, of course. I've tried to keep as anonymous as possible, but one particularly determined journalist managed to find me. He published an article on me a while back, but for reasons I can't fathom, it was removed from the publisher. He was pleasant and I really feel like he was the only person who actually did us justice. Because of that, he's agreed to let me paste his article into here. I think here is the best spot for a sense of reassurance.

~~Begin Article~~

It's been quite some time since monsters first invaded our world. They seem to be a passionate and disorganized lot, and attempts at diplomacy have given mixed results at best. While some of the races are relatively more cooperative than others, some outright refuse to talk of peace, or at all for that matter. Of course, that hasn't stopped individual humans and interest groups from investigating the possibilities of co-existence. Biologists have been gathering data based on mostly second-hand information from human males. One thing experts are certain of, is that monsters are an entirely female species, and require humans to reproduce, with many ways to achieve this. In response, a front of mostly human women has formed, warning the world that if the situation isn't handled with care, humanity may lose control over the world it once dominated, or even go extinct; Certainly a scary thought.

Now that their overall population has stagnated, monsters have generally avoided civilization, although they have been confirmed to be intelligent enough to establish their own proto-nations. Other races have formed smaller, tribalistic societies. Ultimately, satellite imaging has reported a slow, mass exodus to rural and wilderness places in Africa, Asia, and South America.

But what of those who stay? Interspecies true relationships are rare, and usually one-sided. While humans may have numbers, monsters certainly have everything else. Today, I interviewed one individual who appears to have become an adept in the nature of the beast.

His history is most curious. He led the life of an average young man, until suddenly it was turned on its head while on his post as a forest fire lookout in Wyoming. It's known that he headed east, but with the chaos of the time, there are constant contradictions to events surrounding him. What's stranger, fact or fiction? He's only responded to those questions with a smile, wink, and nod. As time passes, and the country gathers the past more accurately he seems to amaze on a regular basis.

To some, he's a legendary character; The Hero of Charlottesville. However, his path is filled with many questions and we have little answers. Where? Only there. When? Only then. Is he a hero or a hooligan? That part's never clear. Did he do it out of pride or shame? Is it all the same? Who's innocent and who's to blame? Was it politics, or just a game? Well, in the end, all we truly know is his name as Richard. However, he dropped out of public notice, and now leaves the rest to everyone else. For the sake of privacy, he's asked for his last name to not be disclosed.

Through great effort and much time, I managed to discover his contact information. He was on guard at first, but agreed to an interview as long as I didn't reveal his address.

I approached the house with some trepidation, armed with nothing but my wits and my shoulder-mounted camera. It had two stories, the outside made of brick. The lawn was moderately well taken care of, with a few patches of dandelion and clover. Next to the road was an unoccupied roadstand made from plywood that said, "Great Ideas: $1". The only thing on the table was a tupperware container with a notebook inside it. A lone empty and two shovels were the only thing on the grass. Trees were numerous, and provided ample shade. As I looked upward, I discovered a well-hidden treehouse. It had been painted camouflage colors, and was invisible from the road. Sticks had been adhered to the walls to further disguise it. Behind the house, I could see the backyard quickly turned into a dense forest. I could hear children's voices from there. On the exterior, it seemed innocent.

Previously, I had started my career in journalism as an amateur paranormal investigator. Exploring the supernatural had always excited me, and I experienced many frights. As I walked up the brick pathway, I felt a burst of nostalgia. I was again exploring the unknown, but this time, it was very real. Nearly shaking with a mixture of anticipation and nervousness, I rang the doorbell.

I immediately heard yelling from a small child. A girl from the inside exclaimed, "He's here! He's here!" I heard the sound of small, but rapid footsteps running away from the door. Strangely, they turned into clicking noises as they went over hardwood. They abruptly stopped with the sound of a screen door slamming shut. I then heard larger, more ponderous steps, the door swung wide, and revealed a seemingly unremarkable man.

He didn't look special, but he gave an unnatural aura of subtle, yet calm, strength and willpower. His posture was comfortable and confident. He asked, "Join me out back?" I agreed, and we walked through the house. Again the interior of the house looked as normal(if a little more chaotic) as the outside. We exited to a screened back porch. Richard opened up a cooler with ice and grabbed two glasses. "Dark rum?" I accepted.

Richard sat in a cushioned chair, facing me and the rest of the yard. He was also watching his children playing in the forest. All six of them. Two were clearly draconic. One was hovering a few yards off the ground and pulling on a vine in a tree. The other was holding a piece of paper. Their green scales on their limbs camouflaged them somewhat. Horns protruded from their head, but that didn't stop one from wearing a red ballcap.

Three more moved about, gathering large sticks. One carried a sapling trunk much larger than a person her size was supposed to. They were black, not African-American, literally black. Ears poked out of the top of their head, yet one also wore a newsboy cap with holes cut in the top. I'm fairly farsighted, so I noticed their ears twitching my way every time I spoke.

Standing out from the rest was a regular human boy. He was slightly taller than his siblings(minus the horns and ears) and had long, brown hair. He also wore a pair of pointed orange sunglasses. They looked like he had them cut out of plexiglass and then screwed temples to them. At first, I was worried I would come into this witnessing a horrible case of bullying, but it never happened. If anything, he was in charge. He grabbed the battered piece of paper from his sister, and began looking at it. They appeared to be constructing a fort and a bridge across a creek. I turned away, switched on the camera, and began my interview with an opening question. "So, how's life been treating you?"

Richard took a sip of his drink and breathed in the summer air. "Pretty good, gotta say. Should've brought the fan out here."

I probed, "That's quite a few of them out there. They seem to be working on something."

"Oh yeah. Fort...uh…Something. I forget what they called it. They came up with the idea after they watched cartoons. Finished the episode, and then suddenly Aurelio's inspired. The rest just follow. It usually goes like that."

"...And Aurelio is?"

"He's the one human; the one in the yellow shirt. Tough little dude. Smart too. The rest of 'em are pretty headstrong, but when he's got something to say, they listen. Hell, they'll follow him better than me."

"I'm not familiar with their names."

"Okay, the one flying is Kreia. She was my first. Her and her sister, Andrea(Can't see her right now), are pretty smart. They'd give Aurelio a run for his money if they didn't look up so much to him. They're the kind of people you have to be very specific on your wording. Don't get me wrong, they listen, but they will bend every rule they can to as close to breaking point as possible and love to ask questions. Kreia's better academically than Andrea, but that's probably because the latter doesn't take school as seriously. On the other hand, she takes care of a turtle pond a little way into the forest. We call it Andy's Pond. We call her Andy by the way."

"Sounds nice. What of the other three?"

"They're the hellhound race, with non-identical twins and a single one. We've got Hevestuli, Audrey, and Roslyn. The first name was my idea. They're a fun bunch, if really rebellious. To be honest, I like how they question authority, even me. They're not as subtle as the dragon kids, but I've learned a lot of lessons about myself from them. At the end of the day, they listen to me, but I'm glad they have their own personalities."

I sat there and wondered how he could describe the situation normally. Here he was, the man who broke the advance to Washington, and he was speaking of them as if they were just as equal as he was. "You speak of them as if they were normal kids."

He looked a little shocked. "They're not, obviously. Treating them the same would be horrible. I mean, you can't look at them and think 'Oh yeah, that won't make other parents remove their kids from school.' That being said, the same discipline and guidance still works on them. Autriel's always said that 'The fundamentals of the soul never change', or something like that. I gotta agree. Monsters' personalities are a combination of nature versus nurture. They just happen to have a lot of nature and I have to adapt to that. Honestly, teach them how to be decent people with healthy habits and they'll fill in the rest."

This was a very unique perspective, but did the other male in the household think so? "I'd like to return to the human boy, Aurelio. There are some who believe he's destined for abuse and it will only continue to get worse as he gets older. Do you think his development would be hampered?"

Richard went from shocked to confused. "I don't know why they think that. Kids are surprisingly durable. Again, nature versus nurture. Aurelio's got a charisma that has me jealous. His sisters look up to him like this 'man with the plan' and the strength to back it up. This is despite the fact that they're all physically superior. Honestly, I think the big household brought it out of him. Lack of options is a great motivator, and I think he had to choose between asserting himself, or running away."

That had me interested. "So…" I tapped my thoughts notebook with a pencil. "Do you think that he accepted the challenge of being outnumbered and outwilled and that brought out his potential for leadership?"

Richard swung his arm. "Absolutely! You don't truly know what you're made of until your limits are strained. Faced with a challenge, people find themselves or find themselves lacking. Unconsciously or not, I think he realized this. You know, the rest of them might have him beat in all physical attributes, but he's the first one to charge into a game of dodgeball. He's also the one who gets hurt the most, but not by his sisters. It's because he was the first one to jump whatever gap was in front of him. If he can't leap over it, he gets Kreia or Andrea to fly him over. It actually makes me really proud of him, almost to the point of tears."

"You've certainly put a lot of thought into this."

He had an embarrassed look on his face. "Been working on that spiel for a month."

I continued my questions about the boy, "What about at school?"

"The kids tend to stick together at school, but they have friends. Sometimes one will come over. Everyone has their circle of friends that frequently overlap with each other, so a few of us will go off if they're in the neighborhood. Overall, they stay mostly for the other kids. A lot of folks know about us here and at school. You know, they'll be riding down the road in the minicar with the wagon in tow and people'll say, 'There goes the [Censored] kids. The minicar's what we called one of those small electric kid cars. A while back I found a better motor and battery pack. That thing will keep up with golf carts now."

It seemed like his train of thought easily went places. "That's very interesting, but to get back on topic, how are they integrating into the school system?"

He rubbed his head and made a groaning noise. "They're… fine, mostly. Aurelio's the best, but that's probably because he's the human in the room. The dragon girls come a close second. They seem pretty interested in knowledge and follow along. However, the hellhound ones have a lot of trouble. They're not bad, but I'll admit the classroom is one of the worst places to put them. It just… doesn't work, and there's no option other than homeschooling. I'm not going to put them into some remedial school because one: I don't want them dumped into those piss-poor conditions simply because they have authority issues, and two: The system there is geared toward humans anyway. It's simply their nature, and we're going to have to figure out a way other than assembly line education."

Again, he was speaking of them like there was no difference between human children and them. "Speaking of your previously-mentioned nature versus nurture subject, you said they have significantly more nature than most. Care to elaborate?"

"Sure. They don't do well in confined spaces. The dragons especially have claustrophobia. Overall, they have very obvious personalities that can't really be fought or suppressed. You just gotta work with it. Making them understand that they're physically superior is a biggie and it's good to get that right out of the way first. Or you could be like Aurelio and just convince them to work for you. Being able to fly is also a major hassle and keeps you on your toes. I mean, how do you teach someone something you can only guess how it works? The hellhounds violently oppose only the most forceful of direct orders. Instead,(and this is true for both of them, really) you get them to respect you and have a mutual understanding that you're the boss at the end of everything. That certainly comes with responsibility, and micromanaging would be almost impossible with them. In short, let them be them until they come across something they need help with."

The amount of effort seemed enormous. It was like throwing darts in the dark. "Then, why so many when you had so little knowledge?"

He paused for a second and breathed deeply. "You know, I still think relationships should stick with one person. I know, big hypocrite, but hear me out. Having more than one partner I think cheapens each relationship. Commiting to one shows a sign of trust. That being said, I kinda saw it as a challenge. I thought a lot of more conservative values were gonna return when I thought the world might be ending, so decided to spite that and said, 'F*** it.'"

"And?"

"So I did."

"I see."

At that moment, the children stopped and were coming toward us. One of the dragons took off toward a second story window. She opened it and disappeared inside. The boy had a pair of lawn clippers in one hand and a branch in his other that looked like it had been used to beat other flora. He opened the screen door. "Hey dad, we're coming in."

Richard looked over. "Cool. No yard stuff in the house."

Aurelio loaded the stick like a spear and chucked it across the yard. One of the hellhound girls immediately bolted off, leapt over a bush, grabbed it mid-air, and landed on her feet. She stared at the stick, before dropping it and returning on her way inside.

The boy called from inside. "Can we play with the cart?"

Richard yelled back, "Sure, just put some pants on if you're going out front."

"I lost mine."

"Don't care if you wear one of Hevestuli's skirts. Just put on more than underwear."

Richard looked back toward me. "He's probably going to get his grass skirt again."

I was incredulous. "He has a grass skirt?"

Richard chuckled. "Yeah. Made of actual grass. Problem was, he tore up the sod in the backyard making it. I confiscated it after he did that. I'm not sure how much grass it takes to make one, but I'm pretty sure he has a spare hidden he's not telling me about."

The personality of this boy kept getting more and more interesting. I came here thinking I would be walking into some social hellscape, where the humans cowered in terror under the might of a terrifying race. Instead, I found that they were thriving under it. Of course, not everyone has the same temperament, but it had just simply worked out for them.

Richard continued, "Let's head to the front. I want to keep my eye on them." We did so. He said he had to stop by the restroom quickly, and instructed me to go outside and wait for him. The kids were already in the front yard. They had removed the small car, and the human boy was in the driver's seat. They appeared to be arguing over something. Ignoring the rest of them, one of the dragons grabs a nearby bucket and begins filling it with water. This goes unnoticed by the rest of them. Once filled halfway, she stands over the bucket and begins gesturing. Slowly, but surely, the water rises out of the container and hovers there above it.

I had heard rumors about supposed "magical children". They were youths with supernatural abilities that were previously unheard of. I'd never seen it with my own eyes before. The girl's hands slowly and flowingly moved while she stared in concentration at the sphere of water. Suddenly, she violently gestured towards her siblings.

The ball of water shot across and broke apart halfway to it's target, dousing two of the hellhounds. There was an immediate roar, followed by the two pouncing toward the dragon. She had already started to take flight, but was immediately grabbed by both legs and "dragged" downward.

As she went down, fire sprayed out of her mouth. The three of them rolled around in the grass, with occasional bouts of flame coming out of the scuffle. The rest watched. After a few minutes, the fight ended with them all grinning wildly. One of them said, "Let's dry off". They looked like they were about to do something, when one looked at me, then the other two met her gaze. Fortunately, I was already pretending to be more interested in my phone. They suddenly ran around the house.

Richard returned refreshed. He commented on how I looked rather shaken. I broke professionalism and stated, "Well, I've just seen someone move water with nothing but their mind and breathe fire. It's definitely questioning a lot." He sat down and said, "I bet."

I took a few deep breaths, adjusted my sunglasses, and found another question on my notepad. "So, how would you describe a relationship with these…" He finished, "Mamano." I apologized, "I'm sorry. I wasn't familiar with the correct term. Regardless, what's it like?"

He sat back and stared out into the sky. "Well, it's simultaneously the same and different. You can't treat them as human, but you should treat them as people. You can't just charge headfirst in because it's exotic, but you should expect the exotic. You can't try to dominate or tame them, but you should assert yourself, because you'll drown."

"They aren't for everyone, and each race has a different sort of… personality template. Any prospective person should definitely do their research. I have many regrets. They are not one of them, and I feel what I did was justified because it was for them. If I had to give one piece of advice, one hot tip, it would be that they never lie to you. They may hold the truth, but they will never lie. At first, I didn't know that, but now true honesty gives me the best feeling of comfort and security I've ever known. Every bruise, every scratch, every bump, every regrettable action I've done is all just hurdles to jump. That is because they are worth it, and those trials are so much easier with that. I know it, they know it, and they know I know it."

He pointed out into the horizon. "They're out there. They used to be more extreme, but things have changed recently. That was Charlottesville. I know how they used to be and so do they. They're just scared, is all. Behind that mature and sexual facade almost all of them put up, they're terrified of civilization and all it's complexities. I firmly believe that it is up to us, humanity, to run after them, grab their wrist, and say, 'Hey, why are you running? You don't have to leave, we can change for you. Come on back and let me show you something cool.' We've made a wonderful world in their absence, now let's see what we can do with them."

After that monologue, I made my finishing question. "Do you think the xenophilic movement toward them is a symptom of a growing beastiality fetish in western civilization?"

He answered flatly, "Hell no. There's a huge difference between this and that movement, with completely different origins. Discussing it would be an entirely different interview. I can tell you that, regardless of any position, ass is ass."

With that, I began one of the most interesting series of interviews in my career so far.