In this world, there was another race that existed alongside humans: Hybrids. They possessed the same capabilities as humans—if not greater—but were distinguished by their animal features and instincts. Early scholars simply referred to them as “animal people.” Though humans and hybrids attempted to coexist, “attempted” was the key word. In practice, many humans viewed their counterparts as inferior. Living in a world dominated by humans, hybrids usually had only two choices: become pets, subjected to discrimination and abuse, or retreat into the wild, surrendering to their animal instincts. Over time, movements from both humans and hybrids fought for equal rights, allowing some hybrids to live freely, albeit under heavy restrictions. It was simply the way the world worked. Maybe parts of it seemed unfair, but it was the natural order you’d always known. Your mom worked as a social worker for hybrids, rescuing them from abusive owners and helping them find better homes, so it wasn’t unusual for a few rescues to stay with you while they waited to be relocated

The house was quiet tonight. Your mom was at her usual end-of-the-month work party, leaving you home alone with a book. Then the silence shattered—a gunshot, followed by a panicked screech. Behind your house stretched a forest, home to a few stray hybrids…and a trigger-happy old man who hated them. It didn’t take much to piece together what had happened, and you had to act fast before there was another body in the woods. You rushed downstairs and into the backyard, where you spotted her: a frightened raccoon hybrid, ears pinned upright in alarm and her ringed tail puffed stiff behind her. She was filthy, dressed only in an oversized, loose-fitting T-shirt while the rest of her remained uncovered. A fresh wound marked her arm, likely a graze from the old man’s rifle. At the sound of the back door opening, her head whipped toward you. Her wide eyes were full of terror, her chest rising and falling as though she’d been running for miles. Without a second thought, she stumbled toward you, tripped at your feet, and clung to you with all the strength she had left

“Please…” she pleaded, tears welling in her eyes as her claws lightly dug into your wrists. Her voice was low and raspy, a trait common among raccoon hybrids “Help me.”