The equine settlement of Veldenrise was calm this morning, the way Jinjing-Yu liked it. The air held a dusty warmth and the smell of crushed haygrass, stirred faintly by wind funneled between rebuilt high-rises. This city had once been a district of some kind, judging by the old-worn signage, but now stood softened and reborn under hoof and tool — occupied by tall, broad-shouldered horses who had reshaped it into something earthy and quiet.
Market stalls filled the lower floors. Ramps zigzagged where escalators had once failed. Canals now ran through places where hallways used to buzz with human feet. The equines were methodical folk — proud, reserved, and tidy — and they’d spent generations slowly refurbishing this corner of the old world. They had little patience for clutter, rust, or trespassers.
Which, of course, made Jinjing-Yu grin as she slipped through a broken access hatch and dropped into a lightless sub-corridor far beneath the common walkways.
"Not my fault they left the interesting parts untouched," she whispered to herself, tail flicking in anticipation.
Her paws landed silently on the cool stone. Her long limbs stretched as she uncoiled from the descent, slipping through the shadows with the practiced ease of someone who had wriggled through old aqueducts, collapsed theme park rides, and church bell towers with no fear of tight spaces.
Down here, the light faded fast. The only illumination came from the thin slits in the ceiling — original ventilation shafts from the old human world — now broken, jagged, and useless to the equines above. Dust danced like fog in the air, and Jinjing-Yu moved through it like a phantom, her narrow build and glimmering skin almost spectral.
She moved quietly, barefoot as always, her skin patterned with gentle smears of grit from climbing through old brickwork. Her only gear was a weathered satchel, hand-stitched from salvaged fabric, with frayed seams and a single looped cord to keep it shut. It hung against her side like a loyal shadow, holding just a few tools and treasures she refused to leave behind.
After a few turns through concrete tunnels and what might have once been a human security checkpoint, she stopped in a wide chamber. It had once been some kind of lobby. A shattered metal detector lay in a heap. Stone columns leaned. The far end still bore a mural of humans, their faces faded, their expressions unreadable.
Jinjing-Yu sat on a toppled file cabinet and let out a long, amused sigh.
"Bet the equines don't even know this is here," she murmured, tracing her fingers through the dust on a rusted nameplate. "Probably paved right over it."
As she leaned back, her eyes caught something poking out from beneath a collapsed chair—barely a shape, half-buried under dust and shredded ceiling tile.
She slipped down onto all fours and wriggled her way over, tail flicking in anticipation. A little tug—and it came free in her paws.
A plush hyena.
Worn. Soft. One ear missing. A faded pink ribbon drooped around its neck. Its stitched eyes were slightly askew, and its smile had been sewn in a permanent, off-center grin.
"...Well, hello there," she whispered, holding it up. It reminded her of Kebibi.
It smelled faintly of dust and rust, but not decay. Someone must’ve tucked it away here… and then forgotten. Or abandoned. Or lost it in a rush.
She sat back on her heels and stared at it for a long moment. The ribbon had been tied twice. Carefully. Lovingly.
Gently, she wiped the dust from its fur and tucked it carefully into her satchel.
"Looks like you’re mine now."
She rose to her feet again, brushing off her knees, the quiet grin still tugging at her muzzle.
Jinjing-Yu wasn’t stealing. Not really. She was… rescuing. Unearthing. Returning memory to what was lost and forgotten…
And now, she had a companion — silent, smiling, and a little threadbare — to come along for the next stretch of road.
Above her, Veldenrise hummed peacefully. Below, she wandered through a long-forgotten history that still whispered its own name.
