Three years ago, we picked up a young female human from our land.
She was sleeping peacefully on my family's pasture, protected by a wall of sheep, and when dad went to check on this stranger, she started screaming, clutching her head and covering her ears, fighting profusely. It wasn't that hard to hold her down until she stopped fighting; she's only a human after all.
The existence of this woman—later insisting on calling herself Jane Evans upon learning Common language—was a sight to behold; mother and father said they've never seen a human for the last 40 years of their lives. So we suspected that Jane might be a wild one that got lost from its natural habitat.
Today is Jane's third birthday.
At least, that's what we just assumed since she said her birthdate was on something… "Octopus nine?" which didn't make sense. And I've decided that her birthday would be the day that we found her, since I'm her owner.
Dad reformed the dirty storage space, formerly known as the basement of the house, into a nice cozy little room for our human, and I'm getting her ready for a big day today.
Morning came, and I walked down the stairs with a little lantern in hand to see that Jane was already sitting there, waiting for me. She must've known that I would come downstairs today to do her hair, because she's surprisingly good at keeping track of numbers.
But before I approached her, I stood by the half-cracked full-length mirror at the bottom of the steps to have a look at myself.
I must be the cutest catgirl in all of the Eight Lands! My lusciously long, gray hair complemented my dashing, sharp, and wide red eyes perfectly. I had an unbuttoned white jacket that hugged my shoulders, a tight red bodice underneath that really accentuates my figure, well-covering the midriff and up.
A skirt that flares outwards, designed for movement, also features a white color scheme with yellow-edged patterns. This skirt, however, opens up on the left and right with slits—perfectly showcasing my red shorts, which further complement the bodice. My furry ears and a pointy, long tail that's controlled like a fifth limb, too, beastkin is the best race ever!
"No." Jane suddenly spoke, even though we both were being quiet, "Slits doesn't fit flare."
I tilted my head, "What?"
She just stared at me blankly, not blinking.
"I think…" She frowned, seemingly agitated, "You shouldn't wear that, Cadbery."
"Uh huh… Right."
We expected the human to assimilate and speak fluently in Common after at most two years. But it's year three, and progress for her to articulate her words had been… Seldom ease. Jane would often frown and groan when asked to clarify her thoughts. In fact, let me try…
"Why shouldn't I wear this?" I do a little spin to give her a better look.
Jane took a deep breath, and I stared into the muted red color of her eyes, which started squinting; her brows furrowed as she tilted her head side to side in a slow, painful motion.
"A skirt that flares out doesn't… Really, ugh…" She slapped her eyes, which I often mistook for a passive-aggressive facepalm, "Fits the slits."
"Well, well, well~" I smiled with hands on my hips, inadvertently showing her my fangs hanging out, "I already told you to call me Ms. Candleberry. We're a family of lords with last names! And you should call yourself Jane Candleberry too, mhm?"
Jane profusely shook her head,
"No, I'm Jane Evans." She closed her eyes, "Your name is too long, more than three syllables."
"Bwahahaha!" Amused, I burst out laughing and went over to grab Jane's head, hugging her tight around my stomach, "Oh, such a deviant little brat aren't cha."
For the next ten minutes, I went ahead and styled her hair, tying it into two ponytails on either side of her head, and also letting two large clumps of her side hair fall downwards, defining her cheekbones. Our human had naturally smooth black hair, something I'm jealous about.
Now that she's beautiful, I took her hand as we began ascending the steps, up to the main house.
"Jane… Have you been keeping track of how many people are refuging in our barns and stables?"
"Three…" She twitched her head, doing math, "And one hundred… One hundred and three, but four died last night, ninety-nine remain."
"Very well." I sniffed, "Let us have… What could possibly be our last meal."