Morning arrived with gentle persistence, sunlight filtering through the windows casting rays of light into my face. I woke slowly, awareness returning in gradual waves—the soft warmth pressed against my side, the rhythmic sound of breathing not my own

  Nessy was still asleep. In sleep, her features softened, the constant animation that characterized her waking hours temporarily stilled. Her ears twitched occasionally, responding to dreams or distant sounds beyond my perception.

  I studied her with the detached curiosity only possible in these unguarded moments—the precise patterning of black and white fur, the angel wing markings on her forehead, the way her whiskers quivered slightly with each breath.

  There was something profoundly strange about waking up next to a talking canine who walked upright and had opposable thumbs, yet also something oddly familiar, as if some part of me recognized her on a level deeper than conscious thought.

  Her eyes opened suddenly, startlingly blue and immediately alert—the instinctive vigilance of a predator despite the comfort of her nest.

  "You're staring," she observed, voice husky with sleep.

  "Just thinking," I replied.

  "Dangerous habit, that," she yawned, stretching beside me in a full-body motion that was decidedly canine. Her spine arched, paws extending, before she settled back into the nest. "What're you thinking about?"

  "How strange all this is," I said honestly. "Waking up at your place in your world where dogs talk and work and make jokes."

  Her tail thumped against the mattress. "Talking? Doggos don’t talk, you're just hallucinating this entire conversation. Bork, bork, bork."

  "Is that so?" I chortled at her fake barking.

  "Mmm-hmm," she nodded solemnly, trying hard not to break into snickering. "Classic human delusion. Your species is very fragile, you know."

  "And here I thought I'd managed to cross dimensional boundaries and cheat death, only to discover I'm having a psychotic break."

  "Tragic, really," she agreed, then exploded into giggles and flitted into the bathroom.

  I reached for the tablet again. This time, I searched for information about Ferguson specifically.

  The results painted a picture of a town remarkably similar to the one I knew—founded in the 1870s, named after a colonel from the Civil War, built around the limestone quarry that had once been its economic center. The differences were in the details: the town's first mayor had been a German Shepherd named Wilhelm Greymane; the high school mascot was the "Fighting Foxes" rather than the "Fighting Falcons"; the annual Founder's Day celebration featured something called the "Great Pack Run" where families raced through town following scent trails.

  I kept on obsessively scrolling through local Ferguson history until Nessy returned. I saw that she was balancing a tray laden with pancakes, bacon, and steaming mugs of coffee.

  “Wait… that… when did you even cook these?” I glanced at the time. I realised that I totally lost about twenty five minutes delving into the depths of Pradavarian wikipedia.

  "Haha, bamboozled! N’ways, breakfast is served," she announced, setting the tray between us as she climbed back into the nest. "Prepare your taste buds for adequate nourishment!"

  "It looks great," I said, genuinely surprised. "I thought you said you couldn't cook."

  "I said I was terrible at cooking when I’m all by myself, not that I couldn't cook," she clarified, passing me a plate. "There's a subtle but important difference there. Cooking for you increases my focus tenfold.”

  I took a bite of pancake, finding it perfectly acceptable—fluffy, slightly sweet, with a hint of cinnamon. "This is actually good."

  "Don't sound so shocked," she grumbled, though her tail wagged betrayingly. "I've been practicing. Living alone, you either learn to cook or starve."

  "Or order takeout," I pointed out.

  "Ferguson has exactly three delivery options, and they all close by 8 PM," she replied, spearing a piece of bacon. "Small-town life, you know? Not like the big city where you can get sushi at 3 AM."

  “Doubt that’s an option now,” I commented.

  “Eh,” she shrugged. “I wasn’t ever into big city life. Now I don’t have to deal with any of that. Silver lining!”

  We ate in companionable silence for a few minutes, enjoying the simple domesticity of sharing breakfast in bed. Lost in my thoughts, I discovered that Nessy was holding out a pancake piece on a fork for me to eat. I accepted it into my mouth, watching her smile widen immensely, tail wagging.

  A knock at the door interrupted our moment, three sharp raps that echoed through the apartment with ominous finality. Nessy's ears shot up, her body going rigid with sudden tension.

  "Are you expecting anyone?" I whispered.

  "No," she replied, her voice equally hushed. "No one knows I'm here except..."

  "Krysanthea," we said in unison.

  Nessy's ears swiveled toward the door, her nose twitching as she scented the air. "Damn it. It's her," she confirmed, voice tight with alarm. "I can smell her."

  The knocking came again, more insistent this time, followed by a voice that carried clearly through the door:

  "Open up, Nessy. I know you're in there, and I know he's with you. I can smell the pancakes and hear you making chewing and breathing noises behind the door.”

  “Ughhh, why must you ruin everything nice n’ good in my life?” Nessy whined.

  “Why must you break the laws?” The answer came from the door. “Ten seconds to open up before I kick it down.”

  Nessy scrambled out of bed, her claws clicking frantically against the floor. She shot me a panicked look as she fumbled with her pajama shorts, straightening her appearance.

  "Coming! I'm coming! Don't destroy my door!" she called out, her voice pitched higher than normal.

  I rose quickly, setting the breakfast tray aside and attempting to make myself presentable.

  Nessy took a deep breath before turning the locks and opening the door.

  Krysanthea stood in the hallway, the morning light highlighting her iridescent emerald feathers and violet scales. She was wearing the same uniform as yesterday–crisply pressed green ranger outfit, polished badge, and a wide-brimmed hat that cast a shadow across her amber eyes. Her clawed hand rested on her holstered weapon, though she hadn't drawn it. Yet.

  "Officer Strand," Nessy greeted stiffly, her tail rigid behind her. "What a surprise."

  "Cut the crap, Whitepaw," Krysanthea replied, her voice professionally detached. "Step aside."

  For a moment, Nessy hesitated, her protective instincts visibly warring with the reality of confronting law enforcement. Finally, with a tense sigh, she stepped back, allowing Krysanthea to enter.

  The raptor-woman's gaze swept the apartment, taking in details with practiced efficiency before landing on me. Her expression remained carefully neutral.

  "Alec," she acknowledged with a curt nod.

  "Officer," I replied just as curtly.

  Krysanthea closed the door behind her, then leaned against it, positioning herself to block the only exit. Her feathery tail swished once, the only indication of emotion in her otherwise composed demeanor.

  "You said you were giving us until morning,” Nessy whined.

  "It is morning," Krysanthea replied flatly.

  "If you're here to arrest us—" Nessy began.

  "If I were here to arrest you," Krysanthea interrupted, "I would have brought backup. This is... unofficial."

  She removed her hat, revealing the colorful feathers beneath, now slightly flattened from the headwear. She wiggled her forehead and her mane straightened, glittering with dark and green patterns, each small feather as detailed as a peacock’s tail, casting little rainbows in the air.

  I couldn’t help but stare at her.

  "I spent all night thinking," she continued, her gaze shifting between Nessy and me. "About what you told me and what I saw." Her clawed fingers tapped a rhythmic pattern against her gun belt. "About my duty to this town versus my... personal feelings."

  "And?" Nessy prompted when Krysanthea fell silent.

  The ranger's amber eyes fixed on me. "I need to understand what you are," she said simply. "Not just for the department. For myself."

  "I told you yesterday," I replied. "I'm Alec, but not your Alec. I died in my world and was... remade. Reconstructed by the System. Then Nessy… ran into me and then a Mini-Mart manager helped us find our way back to Ferguson via a dimensional gate.”

  "A dimensional gate, huh?” She asked with a skeptical face.

  “Yes,” Nessy nodded.

  “Right,” Kristi turned from Nessy to me. “I scented decay on you yesterday. Death. Yet here you are… talking and breathing." Her nostrils flared slightly. She leaned forward, studying me with an analytical focus. “Perfectly healthy. Alive. Your heart… beating normally. Human. Too human in fact. No wrongness. No wrong-smell, no observable horrid uncanny valley that the Systemfall bloom radiates.”

  The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

  "The System calls it Reconstitution,” I said. “It’s like a magic skill or something. It stops me from dying. Do you… have stats?”

  “I do not.” Krysanthea's gaze shifted to where our Sandwichu Tree sat in its bucket near the window, its glass branches glinting in the morning light.

  "And that... sandwich-tree-thing... is connected to your condition?" she asked.

  "It helps," Nessy interjected, positioning herself slightly between Krysanthea and the tree. "The sandwiches it grows heal him."

  "Magical sandwiches," Krysanthea repeated flatly. "From a tree made of glass and concrete."

  "Basically, yes." I shrugged.

  The absurdity of my words hung in the air between us. For a moment, I thought Krysanthea might laugh or draw her weapon. Instead, she simply rubbed the scales between her eyes with a clawed finger, as if trying to ward off an impending headache.

  "Look," she finally said. "The laws against System-bloom are clear. As a ranger and deputy officer of Ferguson, I should confiscate that tree to destroy it and report your... condition." She glanced at me. "But..."

  "But?" Nessy echoed, ears perking forward.

  “But that would mean losing my boyfriend forever,” she said. “This isn't an option. I do not lose. Especially not to a knobfold dog.”

  Nessy let out a growl.

  “Oh shush you,” the raptors shot back.

  “I believe that we’ve already established that I’m not your boyfriend,” I said. “At best I’m more like your Alec’s twin from a completely different town that you’ve never met.”

  “I don’t effing know what you are,” Kristi said. “You’re a walking, talking, immortal anomaly that doesn’t fit into the narrative of Systemfall.”

  “Maybe your narrative is incomplete?” I suggested.

  “Exactly,” she nodded. “I don’t know enough about this… case to make a decision. I need to figure things out before I act. You’re something new and I need to understand if you’re dangerous or useful. If you’re Alec or not.”

  I opened my mouth to argue that I wasn’t.

  “All of my senses are screaming that you’re alive and healthy and that you’re MY Alec and yet I saw you talk with a broken neck yesterday,” she said sharply. “If more ‘Blooms’ like you show up, replacing people or even ordinary objects… then Ferguson isn’t just a little fucked, it’s ‘invasion of the body-snatches’ levels fucked. We’ve been relying on pradavarian senses to determine if something is Systemfall-corrupted to keep Ferguson valley free of anomalous bullshit. For example–that tree is driving me crazy with how it smells. I know its wrong and fucked up and has no right to exist in our reality. You, on the other hand, smell perfectly ordinary. This is incredibly concerning, to say the least.”

  The raptor's amber eyes narrowed as she studied me, her posture rigid with tension.

  "So," she continued, "I'm offering you a deal."

  "A deal?" Nessy echoed suspiciously, her tail bristling.

  Krysanthea nodded, her feathered crest shifting slightly with the movement. "I'll keep your secret—both of you—for now. No arrests, no confiscations, no reports to the department about System-blooms in Ferguson." She held up a clawed finger. "In exchange, I want to observe you. Study you."

  "Study me?" I repeated, not liking the sound of that.

  "Yes," Krysanthea said. “My job is to keep the valley clear of blooms. I need to understand what you are, how you function, if you're dangerous.”

  "And why should we trust you?" Nessy challenged. "You were ready to shoot us yesterday!"

  "I can shoot both of you at any time," Krysanthea replied evenly, "if I wanted to destroy you both, I would have come with a full tactical team at dawn. Instead, I'm here alone, offering you a chance to show me that he’s our Alec and not the ‘effing walking dead.”

  "What exactly would this 'observation' entail?" I asked.

  "Staying by my side. Answering my questions truthfully. Documenting any changes in your condition or abilities." Krysanthea's tail swished once, betraying a hint of her inner tension. "And most importantly, getting that tree outside of town and containing any of its influence. No spreading its seeds, no sharing its fruit with others."

  “Staying by your side where?”

  “I’m thinking in the forest, close enough to the station so I can pretend to monitor the valley below while monitoring your every move.”

  “You want me to stay at the ranger station?”

  “Mmm, no. We can tow your grandfather’s RV to one of the campsites at the edge of the valley up top.”

  "And what about me?" Nessy interjected, her ears tilting forward aggressively.

  Krysanthea's gaze cooled as it shifted to the husky. "You can continue your normal life. Work at the garage. Act like nothing has changed. Just keep your muzzle shut about... all of this."

  "So I'm just supposed to pretend everything is normal while you monopolize his time?" Nessy growled.

  "Yes," Krysanthea replied bluntly. "That's exactly what you're going to do if you want to avoid Ferguson's Systemfall containment protocols. Which, I should remind you, would mean immediate destruction of that tree and Alec and your imprisonment."

  The tension between them crackled almost visibly in the air. I could see Nessy's hackles rising, her fur bristling as she stepped closer to Krysanthea, teeth bared in a silent snarl.

  "This is ridiculous," she growled. "You can't just... claim him like some kind of prize!"

  "I'm not claiming anything," Krysanthea replied, her voice remaining level despite the aggression directed at her. "I'm offering a compromise that keeps you both out of jail and that tree intact. The alternative is official intervention which none of us want."

  "Ladies," I interjected, stepping between them. "I appreciate that you're both... concerned about my welfare, but I'm right here. I can make my own decisions."

  Both women turned to look at me, their expressions a fusion of surprise and indignation—as if the idea of my autonomy was somehow novel.

  "This deal," I continued, addressing Krysanthea, "would allow me to stay close to Ferguson without risking arrest or... whatever other 'containment protocols' might involve?"

  The raptor nodded, her amber eyes narrowed slightly. "Yes. As long as you cooperate with my study and keep that tree's influence contained, I can classify this as an ongoing investigation rather than an active threat."

  "And you'd be watching me... constantly?"

  "As much as my duties permit, yes," she confirmed. "I need to understand what you are, if you pose any danger to Ferguson, and..." she hesitated, something vulnerable flickering across her scaled features, "...if there's any chance at all that you're somehow… him. My Alec."

  I turned to Nessy, whose ears were flat, blue eyes wide with a mixture of anger and fear. "This wouldn't be some kind of solitary confinement?"

  "I suppose," Krysanthea conceded reluctantly, "brief, supervised visits would be acceptable. Provided they don't interfere with my observations."

  “Brief visits?” Nessy growled. “No! I’m staying with him! I saved him, I brought him home! I won’t let him go, I can’t! He’s… he’s my everything! You can’t take him away from me again! I’d rather you shoot me right now!”

  "Quit the dramatic show, Whitepaw," Krysanthea snapped, her patience visibly fraying. "This isn't about what you want. It's about keeping Ferguson safe while figuring out what the hell he even is!”

  “He’s my packmate! He’s my Alec!”

  “Nazareth, you’re such a selfish bitch,” Kristi growled.

  “What?! Me?! You’re the bitch here! We’re not gonna harm the town! You could just let us live peacefully!”

  I could feel the situation spiraling into further conflict as Kristi’s hand slid to her gun.

  "How about this," I suggested, stepping fully between them. "I'll stay at my grandfather's RV as Krysanthea suggested. That way, I'm contained and can be observed without disrupting the town. Nessy, you can continue working at the garage and visit when you're not on shift."

  "But—" Nessy began, her voice rising in protest.

  "The alternative is what? Arrest? Imprisonment? Destruction of our tree?" I pressed. "This arrangement gives us freedom, albeit limited, and time to figure things out."

  Krysanthea nodded slowly. "Acceptable terms. I can arrange to have the RV towed to the ranger station campground by this afternoon."

  "And I want visits whenever I feel like," Nessy added firmly. "Not 'brief' or 'supervised.' Actual time together."

  “We can arrange the detail of such later.” The raptor's amber eyes narrowed. "Not right now.”

  “Whyyyy?” Nessy whined.

  “I need to test his blood in the lab,” Krysanthea said. “Determine if it can bloom and propagate outside of his body. Until this happens you need to stay away from him. We don’t know if he can infect your insides with whatever is inside him.”

  “Infect my insides?!” Nessy sputtered. “How would that even… What are you implying?! I’ve been with him for three days now and I’m perfectly fine!”

  "As far as you know," Krysanthea replied coolly. "You're too emotionally compromised."

  "You’re the one that’s emotionally compromised! My nose is PERFECT," Nessy growled, jabbing a clawed finger toward the raptor. "It's what led me to him in the first place!"

  "Ladies," I interrupted again, feeling like a referee in an increasingly hostile match. "Let's keep this civil. Krysanthea, a few basic tests seem reasonable, but I'm not agreeing to becoming a lab specimen. And Nessy deserves regular, private visits—she's been through a lot to find me and to get me to a safe place."

  The raptor and the husky exchanged glares, neither wanting to concede ground. Finally, Krysanthea exhaled sharply through her nostrils.

  "Fine. I'll conduct the necessary tests today. If they confirm you're not actively spreading contamination, she can have her visits," She said, "But I still need time to observe you myself. Until I determine what you are, you're staying by my side.”

  "And what exactly will these tests involve?" I asked.

  "Blood sample, tissue sample, basic physical examination," she replied.

  Nessy's tail swished anxiously. "And if these tests show something you don't like?"

  Krysanthea's expression hardened. "Then our arrangement changes.”

  Nessy whined like she was being stabbed through the heart. I couldn’t handle her heartbroken expression.

  “If I am infectious then Nessy is definitely already contaminated,” I said. “She’s been licking my blood. She should be quarantined with me or whatever.”

  Krysanthea’s eye twitched.

  Nessy looked defensive. "It was medical care! My saliva has healing properties!"

  "For Nazareth's sake," Krysanthea muttered, pinching the bridge of her snout. "You two are making this infinitely more complicated."

  She paced the small apartment, her tail swishing agitatedly behind her.

  "Fine," she finally said. "You're right. If there's contamination, she's already been exposed. You'll both come to the ranger station for testing. But the RV arrangement stands. I need a controlled environment to monitor Alec."

  "Deal," I agreed before Nessy could object. "When do we start?"

  "Now," Krysanthea replied. "Gather whatever you need, including that... tree. My vehicle is outside."

  Nessy and I exchanged glances. Her blue eyes were clouded with concern, but she nodded slightly.

  "Give us five minutes to pack," I told Krysanthea, who leaned against the exit door with a curt nod.

  Nessy grabbed my arm and pulled me into the bedroom. "Are you sure about this?" she whispered urgently, snapping the door closed. "Can we trust her?"

  "I don't think we have much choice," I replied honestly. "And she's right—we need to know if I'm dangerous to others."

  Nessy's ears drooped slightly. "I don't like her having control over you."

  "She doesn't," I assured her. "This is temporary. A compromise to keep us both safe and free while we figure things out."

  Nessy began gathering clothes and stuffing them into a duffel bag with more force than necessary.

  "We'll be okay," I told her, though I wasn't entirely convinced of it myself.

  Her blue eyes met mine, filled with a mixture of determination and fear. "Promise me you won't let her separate us."

  "I promise," I said.

  She nodded once, zipping the overstuffed bag closed. "Then let's go face the scales-and-feathers brigade."

  Krysanthea led us to a forest-green ranger vehicle, its official insignia gleaming in the morning light. She opened the rear compartment wordlessly, watching with narrowed eyes as I carefully secured the Sandwichu Tree.

  As we drove through Ferguson toward the ranger station on the edge of town, I watched the small community pass by—storefronts with their displays of everyday goods, residents going about their morning routines, a mix of humans and pradavarians living in apparent harmony.

  It all seemed so normal, so untouched by the System chaos I'd experienced. Yet beneath this veneer of ordinary life lay a rigid structure of protection and vigilance—a town determined to remain untainted by the changes sweeping across the world outside its borders.

  I wondered how long such isolation could last, how long Ferguson could maintain its pretense of normalcy when reality itself was being rewritten beyond its boundaries. How long it would take for someone like me–changed by the System, but potentially less sane to tear through this little haven.

  As if reading my worried thoughts, Nessy's hand found mine in the back seat.

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