"Therian culture had given scholars one unusual question that plagued them to this day. While therians of any sort would happily intermarry successfully with other races, a hybrid between two different therian types was nearly unheard of. Most such pairings were childless, and the few that had offspring, often had sterile offspring. Only specific combinations - usually amongst those that strongly resemble each other - gave healthy offspring. Why this is so, is still a mystery to this day." - Garth Wainwrought, professor of socioeconomics at the Levain Institute of Higher Learning.

On their way out of the goblin lands, Cal set her course south-east instead of straight to the south - the way she came in - because she had Boroes in mind for her next destination. The Grand Duchy of Boroes was one of the largest nations in the Union, populated predominantly by Therians that migrated together to Alcidea from Ur-Teros.

Fheeri knew of no life outside the goblin lands so far, so Cal thought the girl would need time to adjust, before she brought her to Levain or Paradise. Boroes was not just nearby, but also a land of therians, which should ease the adjustment a bit.

Since the path was a longer trek and they moved slower than when Cal came alone. After three days of travel they approached the no man's land that served as the border between the lands informally.

Cal dressed herself back as normal, and lent Fheeri a tunic and a spare pair of shorts for her to dress in. The tunic failed to fit past her shoulders so Cal replaced it with a vest instead. The shorts she bought were fortunately loose ones, so they managed to fit Fheeri just fine.

The next afternoon, as they crossed the no man's land, a group of riders came across their path. Cal had readied herself to fight, but relaxed slightly when he saw the young human in the lead of the group called for them to halt, and trotted his horse ahead, on his own.

"Good afternoon, ladies. What brings you to these wastes if I may ask?" Asked the man. Now that Cal had a closer look she noticed him to be around his thirties, with a thick handlebar mustache on his rugged face, but kept his chin cleanly shaven. "Me name be Quentin Sklaff, we kinda run sort of a vigilante group in these parts."

"Celeysria, this is Fheeri," Cal replied politely, while she still kept herself halfway on guard. All considered, it was unlikely for the man to have meant something bad if he rode in alone without the rest of his team. "We're just passing through, on our way to Boroes."

"Ah, Boroes, a fine land if you don't mind the snobs," commented Quentin offhandedly. "You might want to take care near their border. Last I heard, a new therian bandit crew made their home in that area."

"Oh, really?" Cal asked with a quirked eyebrow as she mentally noted the information. "Thank you for the warning, Quentin. We will keep an eye out on our way."

"I bid you a good trip, ladies," said the man as he flourished an awkward bow from atop his horse.

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"What was that all about, young boss?" Asked a gruff, scarred man from behind Quentin after Cal and Fheeri had disappeared from sight. Even as a bandit, he was not stupid enough to ask while they were in earshot.

"Remember when we took over Bheg's lair a couple months ago?" Asked Quentin in return to his underling.

"Of course! Not every day you get a free gift like that," said the bandit. He remembered well how the boss had led most of their group and secured their rival's nearly empty lair. Only less than twenty of Bheg's hundred men were even in there, and it was a smooth takeover. The loot earned helped the Sklaff gang become one of the top gangs in the area.

"You can thank that lass with the white hair for that," Quentin said.

"What d'ya mean, young boss? How's that lassie related to Bheg's men just disappearing?"

"That woman," Quentin said before he paused for a deep breath. "Took on the missing members of Bheg's group. All eighty of them. She butchered them as if they were dogs and chickens!" By now the hint of dread was obvious in Quentin's voice.

"You- you're kidding right, boss? Don't scare us like that."

"I wish I was, Jimbob, I wish I was," lamented Quentin as they rode. "There are just ten of us. She would have just butchered us even easier. Then you'd be lizard food with nobody knowing why."

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Cal had put the riders she met out of her mind. They looked like rough folk, but were certainly polite enough. After her visit to Sev-Galas she had a more flexible view on things, and had not thought too badly of them even if they way they looked screamed "Bandit!". Similarly, she taught Fheeri not to judge others based on how they looked.

They made their way towards the border with no interruption, and had just set up camp for the night. Slices of meat were set atop a rack over the fire, when both Cal and Fheeri heard something in the wind. It was but a slight rustle, like a careful footfall on dry grass.

The young therian girl concentrated on her magic, willed the winds to carry more sounds to her ears. Before long they both confirmed that at least a dozen people had encircled their camp and approached under the cover of darkness.

Cal gestured for Fheeri to ready herself, and to stay close to her. She had not needed to see these intruders to guess who they might be. What other purpose would people have to sneak towards someone who put no effort in hiding themselves?

Discreetly, Cal drew several throwing knives out of her pendant, and Fheeri did the same with her sling and a lead pellet, which she kept concealed on her hands. The sounds crept closer, the intruders cared not that their targets were alerted.

So Cal gave Fheeri the signal.

In a single smooth, practiced motion, the therian girl unfurled her sling to its full length, deposited the lead projectile in the pouch, and forcefully swung the sling around hard. A moment later, she loosed the projectile after only one and a half revolutions, and simultaneously deposited the sling back into storage.

Hunga Mungas were gripped in her crossed hands the next moment, and she tossed both out horizontally to different directions, before she switched to her melee weapons. Cal was less fancy, and simply flung four throwing knives as she swung her arm, then a backhanded movement flung another four out.

Yelps and cries of pain resulted from the surprise rain of projectiles, and seven figures stood up from the tall grass, all pretense of stealth forgotten. Cal threw a few more knives at two of the three bandits on Fheeri's side and took them down, before she allowed the girl to take on the last one.

For her part, Cal made very short work of the four bandits across from her, before she turned to see how Fheeri was doing with hers.

The therian girl had not needed her help it turned out. The last bandit was quite thoroughly demoralized by how their group were decimated and had fought poorly. Fheeri had pushed his two short swords away to the sides with her weapons before she lunged and tore his throat out with her fangs.

Then she spat out the blood and flesh disgustedly, gargled with some fresh water, and spat it out again. She also washed the blood on her face while she was at it. Cal took a closer look at the bandits and understood why. They were therians, most resembled some sort of cat or weasel, but the one Fheeri tore the throat of, resembled a skunk.

Cal chuckled a bit as she walked into the grass and collected her throwing knives from the bodies of another three therian bandits. A fourth one still lived, so she quickly put him down as well. Along the way she collected their heads and stored it in her storage, as proof in case they had bounties on them.

She was about to walk over to Fheeri's side and do the same. To her surprise however, the therian girl already handled the matter, and nonchalantly handed her six heads. It turned out the goblin tribe where Fheeri lived has had their fair share of bandit troubles before.