This Beast-Tamer is a Little Strange

The air shimmered faintly like a heat wave.

One moment, he was behind the Boss's leg, still shivering and damp with shame. The next—he wasn't.

There was no flash of light, no rumbling of the ground, no sound at all. Just a sudden shift.

The pile of important, yet smelly, stones was gone. The towering presence of the Boss was gone.

The ground beneath him was flat now and rocky. Cold. And not like the familiar soft grass where he called home.

The rhino looked around frantically, he stood atop of a cliff…that he was now at the edge of.

The only living thing in this new, dead-quiet space was him.

And the small, hairless ape.

It stood—no, floated—a short distance away, utterly silent. Its thin limbs didn't look strong enough to lift a stone. Its eyes were dark, sunken. Its expression was calm. Too calm.

It stared at him. Just stared.

And the rhino began to panic.

He stomped backward—then forward—then spun in a small circle, snorting loudly. No scent trails to find his way back home. No other creatures to call for help. No Boss. Not even a certain sharp-fanged cat to bait in his place.

The ape raised a hand slightly.

The rhino froze, all four legs locked.

Was this it?

Was this strange, ugly little beast going to erase him? What kind of twisted predator abducted someone in broad daylight, brought them to a place with no smell, no sky, and no sound—and then just stared?

He let out a long, low wail. His horn dipped toward the floor. He tapped one hoof nervously. The ape said nothing. It still hadn't moved.

He tried speaking. A hopeful, confused grunt. Then a higher-pitched snort. Then, a whole sequence of warning bellows. But the ape didn't respond—not like creatures were supposed to.

No twitch of ears. No defensive posture. No retaliatory snarl.

Just... eyes. Watching him. Sizing up its prey?

Why, Boss? WHYYYY?!

He had done nothing wrong! So why was he abandoned like this?!

He had been a good rhino. The best. He had guarded the rocks. He hadn't even eaten the moss around them, even though it looked extra juicy. He had helped the spiders die quickly and warned the sneaky cat fair and square.

So why?

What fate had he triggered? What divine rule had he broken?

He fell onto his knees—an awkward, heavy drop that cracked the strange flat ground beneath him—and tilted his head to the sky.

Tears the size of marbles rolled from his eyes.

He began to wail. Loud. The kind of cry that made small birds fly away and trees shiver. He cried like a calf. Big, echoing sobs that shook his whole body.

The rhino's voice cracked, but he didn't stop.

Why wasn't it over?

Why didn't the ape just end it already? Was it one of those weird creatures that liked to play with their prey before going in for the kill?

How horrible! This waiting was worse than being struck directly.

He hiccuped. Snorted pitifully. Then curled one leg beneath his chin and began rocking in place.

He sobbed again.

------------------------

'What the hell is wrong with this thing?' Kain thought in annoyance as the 'helper' Aurem had gotten for him turned into a useless blubbering mess.

'That damn lazy dragon…if he would have just helped me mine the crystals himself, I wouldn't need to put up with these irritating cries right now.'

Kain pinched the bridge of his nose as the rhino's sobbing somehow escalated. The creature had curled in on itself and was now doing a bizarre rocking motion that made it look like it was about to pass out.

He took a step forward. The wails spiked.

He sighed. Loudly. "Shut up."

The words came out sharper than intended—more bark than bite—but the effect was immediate. The rhino went stiff. One watery eye peeked up at him, quivering. Then, to Kain's surprise, the crying stopped. Instantly. Like someone had flipped a switch.

It blinked. Slowly. Sniffled once.

Kain narrowed his eyes. "...can you understand me?"

The rhino's ears twitched, but it didn't respond.

Figures.

Of course it couldn't understand him. None of the native beasts on Pangea could—not even the high-level ones. After all, how would they learn the languages of humans when they'd never met humans before. That had been precisely why Kain had gone to Aurem for help, since he was the only creature he could communicate with.

He looked back at the edge of the cliff.

The small crater shimmered faintly, sunlight bouncing off jagged chunks of amethyst crystal. Mental-type, and pure ones at that. And extremely fragile. The angle of the cliff made excavation a nightmare—any normal method would risk shattering them.

Hence why he needed help.

Kain raised an arm and gestured toward the crater. Slowly. Deliberately.

The rhino's eyes followed the motion.

Then widened.

Its entire body tensed like it had been struck by lightning. With trembling limbs, it looked at Kain, then the cliff. Then back again.

And then it started crying again.

"What now?" Kain muttered, thoroughly exasperated.

The rhino let out a garbled moan that sounded like someone stepping on a tuba underwater. It shook its massive head violently, took a step back, and then collapsed onto its side, legs flailing in a clumsy attempt to scramble away from the crater.

"Are you seriously—" Kain cut himself off. "You think I'm trying to kill you?"

He could see it in the way the rhino kept glancing between him and the drop-off. The crater wasn't visible from where it lay, especially not with how deep the cut was into the rock. From the rhino's perspective, he must have looked like he was gesturing dramatically off the edge.

Kain exhaled, long and slow.

"You idiot," he said flatly.

The rhino sniffled.

Still frowning, Kain stomped once, then pointed again—this time more emphatically—at the crystals below. He even stepped aside slightly to give it a better angle.

The rhino hesitated, slowly uncurling. Its head tilted.

Then it crept forward. One hoof at a time, tail tucked in tight.

As it reached the edge, it peeked over the side... and finally saw.

The crystals glinted. Dozens of them. Maybe even hundreds.

The rhino stared.

Then back at Kain.

Then back at the crystals.

And then—without warning—it collapsed again. But not in fear this time. No, it crumpled to the ground in what could only be described as relief, legs splayed awkwardly, chest heaving from leftover panic.

"Sigh…this is going to be a long day."