1

The library with its books and books of endless information, theoretically, should make us intelligent, but still I stand hear listening to the rant and raves of my coworker who is bewildered by the social gatherings of Pige.

“They gather in my backyard like flocks of pigeons. Boulder sized flying rats they rocket in and crash, destroying everything I own!” She recounts the tale with flying hand gestures, noise diving and exploding with debris.

“They are pigeons,” I say, and her words die on her lips. “In some sense, anyway. Of course they are more intelligent with archaic speech in place, but no where near the four power houses in control...”

She stares at me. Her and my two other coworkers. “Theo, they up heaved my yard. I already put in a police report,” she says.

I blink at her rapidly. “You do realize a spot is a tradition, right? They've been forming in your front yard before there was even a house placed there.”

Again, they continue to stare, but then laugh and wave their hands at me. “Well now it's for us human's and they gotta find a new place to go meet up.”

I pivot on my heels and back away. “I'll go organize the books,” I mutter as my get away as she retells the story one more time.

My pitch black ponytail swishes in the trench created by my shoulders. It's not tight, but loose so it can stay out of my eyes while I work. I push my glasses up the crook of my noise as I stand on my tiptoes to place a book on the top shelve. My height makes me the best candidate for the job of replacing returned books.

I can still hear her even though I'm several feet away. She tossed rocks at their circled formation and wondered why they attacked the door in a flurry. Does anybody read in this day and age anymore? Do humans read? Do they even care about the other races out there? I shake my head and keep placing the books.

“Excuse me, sir?” says a small voice outside of my thought.

I face her and smile. She's small, well, everyone is small to me. She comes to my chest in height.

“Can I help you?” I say. At the sound of my voice her eyelids flutter and her gaze latches onto my rustic colored eyes.

She blushes red and looks away, beginning to fiddle with the seam of her shirt. “Can you help me?”

“Yes, what do you need?”

“Hmm, a book.”

“Which one?” I never falter in my smile, even crook my head left at her. My skin is blemish free, a trademark of my people. Along with my naturally tanned skin tone. It glows in the right light sometimes.

“About th-the four races, please?”

I nod and scan the aisles. The four races, excluding humans, are the most populated and well-rounded with unique cultures and history of all the races. There are more than four other races out there, but those four make the decisions right alongside humans about this world.

“You know, one of the four, the Huyet, is actually comprised of the Huyet and Huyat, but the Huyat act more like servants than equals so the Huyet don't count them as a species within their civilization.”

She doesn't say anything, but she has moved to fiddle with her button now.

“Aha! Found it!” I say and take out the novel. It's the basics of the history. On the cover is a circle with four wedges drawn in with a painting of each race. The small and nimble warriors, Huyet; the third-eye seers and scholars, Kalp; the dragons, Rilf; and the animal spirits, Cherok. Around the circle are the humans. They are drawn in the corners, but at the edges are the dark ones, Uni. They were once allowed a representative in the circle, but an ancient war ended all truce.

She takes the novel from my hand and analyzes the cover. “You look like a Cherok, did you know that?”

“I've been told.” I smile down at her. Some humans don't want to believe that individuals break away from their own civilization and roam with humans, especially since we

camouflage so well.

She wields the novel with both hands in a tight grip as she goes over it a few more times.

Her eyes light up with the knowledge present in the book.

“It's a good read, I'm sure you'll enjoy it.”

“Uhhuh,” she murmurs and walks away. I watch as she makes it to a vacant table and opens up the novel. Her eyes trail along the words. It's the human variant, but some of the translations were forced to make sense and failed.

I go back to work and leave her to her study. Finally, my coworkers are off the story and are working. One mans the front counter and another patrols the kids section. Another is

on break.

By the time I finish reorganizing the books dark is peeking in from the window. The sun rays streak over the mountains in waning glory and I can just make out the silhouettes of Rilf soaring high above the mountain top. I sigh and go to the back room.

The story coworker, Sally is there. She has to close up shop tonight. I wave at her. “I'm heading home. Bye.”

She grunts and flips through a magazine in front of her. She should be at the counter, but business is never busy at this hour of night. I shrug and grab my backpack from my locker and leave.

Street lights flicker on as I walk out. They illuminate the path home. I sigh and sling my back pack on one shoulder. The cool breeze coursing through my hair, and filling my lungs revives my primitive calling. I know, deep down, I should be out with nature not blocked in by buildings and technology, but my mind says no, right along with my reason.

A horde of Pige glide overhead. Sally's going to hate it tonight. That gives me a slight chuckle and I go the opposite direction home. Home is a term used loosely. It's an apartment six stories high that's nothing more than a broom closet in size. I take the stairs up, hearing figments of conversation I shouldn't. I now know that the room underneath me is trying to make a huge drug sale with a notorious thief and lair. He's probably going to die either tonight or tomorrow. The old lady next door just bought a new parrot for her collection. That's seven now. I catch more, but I block it out.

On my hallway, the man across from my room is smoking a cigarette right outside his door. He takes in a deep puff, then exhales. I have never seen this man out of his room, and now I know why. He's a Rilf. His eyes are coal like, pit-less, charcoal hair spiked up, and skin chalk white. His nails are long and gangly, with black underneath and he has pointed ears.

He keeps my stare and we nod at each other. Two races trying to make ends meat in a human city. It might spark a friendship at some later date, but now I'm tired. While they are night-owls, I live by more human ways and I sleep during the night.

Opening my door, a stale scent smacks me in the noise. The pungent odor comes from above me and after a few sniffs I figure it's from expired fridge goods, like milk and cheese. Disgusting. Tomorrow I'll talk to them about it. Maybe file a complaint, like it will be dealt with. I massage my brow and turn on the fan in hope of diffusing the stench. It works to a degree. I kick off my shoes and pull my socks off, flipping on to my couch. I never bought a bed because a couch has multiple uses, like sleeping and sitting. Why buy a bed if I have one of these? In seconds I am out.

I do not sleep soundly. Right as it happens, I know I am being led by spirits. I am flying as a hawk. My wing span stretches the forest I was born and raised in, and my call rattles the trees down to their roots. My family cries out in joy on top of the canopies of trees, thrusting their fist into the sky towards me.

I see them all. My brother and sister, even my dead mother and father, each one greeting me on my trip back. I fight the vision. I am not coming back. The spirits can't make me. A fire erupts in the center of my homeland. It grows until it touches the stars. In the flickering blaze the spirits speaks.

“You will. It's your calling.”

To hell it's my calling. Everyone always spouting the same lies. It's not my calling to do anything.

Rain clouds crackle over the forest. With a shot of lightning, rain pours in sheets of crimson. It'll drown my people in blood, but I catch it in my back. My body falters under the weight, but I remain in the air. My friends and family cheer.

I grind my teeth. The spirits are trying to coax my guardian nature that fuels me to protect. It's not going to happen. I'm not going back, no matter how many times they capture me in my sleep and take me there.

Flinging my head back and forth, I shake the dream until I'm floating in black. Then and only then I relax into peacefulness.