Wen Hoglin was sitting by a small river, tossing stones into the water. The sight of his own scaly, monstrous hands was unbearable, and he couldn't fathom why he had been cursed with such a form. After pulling his knees to his chest, he hid his face in them. In this secluded spot, he took refuge from a world that couldn't understand him. His thoughts were interrupted by a sudden splash.

"What? D-don't come any closer!"

He yelled, scrambling for a stick. Emerging from the water was a creature straight out of folklore, with a long fishtail and sharp claws. Its hands, horrifyingly similar to his own, sent a shiver down his spine. All Wen Hoglin could do was hope that the creature wasn’t hostile.