Second Nature Read Free Page B

extinction.
    There had been a time when the members of every race had kept to themselves, and when their paths crossed, it had often ended in territorial fights and bloodshed. But after long centuries of being tortured and burned at the stake as witches and demons by the Inquisition in Europe, they had realized that they had to cooperate to survive. They had set aside old feuds and rivalries and had come up with laws that secured the survival of their species.
    Seems they're still discussing the survival of our species.
    "I demand that the number of saru be increased," Jeff Madsen, this year's speaker of the council, shouted over the heated arguments of his colleagues. "They also need more autonomy to react more swiftly to any dangers caused by humans."
    Next to Griffin, Cedric Jennings gave a satisfied grunt.
    "More power to the Saru?" the Ashawe councilor piped up. His brow knitted in concern. "We just added ten new units last year. If we keep on doing that, we'll end up with a police state."
    A variety of different feelings from the councilors brushed Griffin's nose. Most of them echoed what she felt — grim satisfaction, worry, anger, ambivalence. On one hand, increased autonomy sounded like a good thing. Griffin liked her independence as much as most tiger-shifters did. On the other hand, more independence for her meant more autonomy for all the other saru too. With added autonomy came an added moral responsibility, and Griffin doubted her fellow saru were equipped to handle it.
    Jeff Madsen rose from his chair. The slowness of his movements enhanced the air of danger and superiority surrounding him. "And if we don't do it, we'll end up extinct. There's a steady decline in our birthrate. My grandfather had seven siblings." He straightened his shoulders and looked at each of the councilors in turn. "Now, most of us don't even have one brother or sister."
    Anger and pain radiated from Jennings. He no longer had a brother either. Humans were to blame for it.
    Griffin knew that Madsen was right. She was one of very few Wrasa who had three siblings.
    "We're forced to play constant hide-and-seek in ever-shrinking territories. We can't raise pups like this," Madsen said. "At the same time, our death rate is increasing." His fist hit a stack of paper that probably documented the exact numbers. When he loosened his white-knuckled fist, Griffin saw that his fingers were trembling with rage and grief. "This year, more of us than ever were killed by humans. We can't afford to lose even more."
    "Most of these incidents are considered accidents under the law," the Ashawe councilor said, his voice barely loud enough to be heard over the din.
    Thyra Davis, representative of the Maki, got up and lumbered over to stand side by side with Madsen. Anger swirled around her in thick waves. It almost drowned out the ripples of sorrow that Griffin's nose detected. "Accidents?" Thyra Davis boomed. "Then I suppose you consider the systematic destruction of our homes accidents too? They're cutting down the forests, draining the swamps, leveling the hills, and they erect campsites and resorts in our natural hiding places. Very soon, there won't be any places left for us to shift and run in our animal forms."
    Griffin's throat tightened. She felt trapped in the stuffy council chamber. What the bear-shifter said was true. Most Wrasa were forced to live near national forests and parks, and even there they had to constantly be on their guard and keep an eye out for hikers, hunters, bird watchers, and tourists.
    She wanted to cover her ears and not have to listen to the depressing discussion, but she knew with her superior hearing, she would still hear it. All her life, she had avoided politics. There was no escape from this, though. It impacted every Wrasa and her in particular. A few centuries ago, hybrids had been tolerated. Not anymore. Now, Wrasa disapproved of mixed marriages and hybrids because most of them were sterile and put them one step