The Great Plains' Reluctant Farewell
The anomaly hit on the seventh day.
"...Is something wrong with my eyes?"
"No... I'm seeing the same thing..."
The kids stared at the Great Plains with blank expressions. Their eyes were full of confusion.
I looked at the plains. They were wobbling.
It reminded me of that elephant trunk game we played as kids, spinning in place while grabbing our noses with one hand. After a dozen or so dizzying turns, you'd try to stand straight—the world would keep swirling even when your body stopped. That's exactly what the Great Plains looked like now. Like I'd spun an elephant trunk thirty times and then stared out. The entire landscape was churning.
"Wh-what's going on?"
The ground rippled like waves on the ocean, and the sky slowly rotated around us. Faced with that bizarre, terrifying sight, we could only stand there dumbfounded.
We'd first noticed the anomaly about two hours earlier, that seventh morning.
It started with something tiny, a subtle wrongness.
"Ursa sis. Something's weird over there."
Basha—who'd started calling me 'sis' as payment for his graduation—called out to me while I was checking the luggage. I followed him outside, but all I saw was the usual blue grassland.
"No, not that way—over there!"
Wrong direction, apparently. I looked where he was pointing this time, and the distant trees were shimmering.
Familiar sight.
"Aha. What'd I tell ya."
"Huh? Isn't it weird?"
"That's just a mirage. Happens sometimes when the sun's intense."
Basha must've never seen one before. Come to think of it, he was always weak to the heat. In the scorching summer sun, he'd spend all day panting inside the tent or in the shade. Guess this was his first real mirage. He looked so disappointed that his big discovery turned out to be nothing special—tail drooping as he slunk back to the wagon.
I gave the shimmering trees one last glance and followed him inside.
But... isn't it morning right now?
The sun wasn't strong enough for mirages yet. Well, the plains are vast. Maybe that spot was just getting hit harder. I brushed it off back then.
And two hours later—now.
Now the whole world was shimmering. Staring too long made my stomach churn.
Even weirder: amid all this churning madness, only our tribe's surroundings stayed steady.
"Ursa sis. Are mirages supposed to be like this?"
"...No. This ain't a mirage."
"See? I was right—it is weird!"
Basha wagged his tail like he'd won, even in this mess.
That's when the horn signaling a rest stop blared from up ahead.
The wagons halted, and I bolted out to ask what was up.
"Sets! What's going on?"
"Huh? What's with you, Ursa? Oh! Yeah, the mirage is pretty bad, huh?"
Short Mane Sets was casually stroking the mane of his beloved horse Bongkure, looking totally chill despite everything.
"How is that a mirage? The sky's spinning!"
"Well... it's different from the usual, sure. But it's just shimmering, right? Maybe the plains are throwing a tantrum or something."
"What kinda..."
The plains again. Was there really something up with them?
The other tribesfolk weren't much different from Sets. Acting like it was business as usual. Some were even chattering excitedly about trees that weren't just shimmering—they were warping.
"What, Ursa? Scared? You always act like such a grown-up, but you're still just a squirt, huh? Hahaha."
Sets laughed and patted my head as I fidgeted. I didn't answer—just sprinted forward.
Is everyone safety-blind? Am I the only one freaking out? Why doesn't anyone think this is weird?
What if this weirdness was doing something to us? Like mass hypnosis? That'd be bad. Real bad.
My steps quickened.
Up ahead, Bear Elder and Deer Elder—Rippling Earth Serian—were gazing at the wobbling plains.
"Bear Elder! Serian Elder!"
"Ursa, what's wrong? Something happen?"
Serian scooped me up when she saw how anxious I was. Snuggled in her arms, I quickly explained everything.
The elders responded calmly.
"I see. Makes sense you wouldn't know the plains well."
"This is a mirage too, Ursa. One conjured by the Great Plains itself."
This was a mirage? Made by the plains? Sets was right?
I stared at them, urging more explanation. Serian slowly began.
"The Great Plains. Also called the West's Mystery. We beastkin believe it's alive."
Mystery? Alive? Suddenly it sounded like something out of a fantasy novel.
Having animal ears and tails was already unreal enough, but nature itself being special too?
Let me sum up what the elders explained.
The Great Plains, where we'd lived for over a decade, watched us like a living thing. It probably had a will of its own—knew what we were, what we did. It was kind to all life, loved peace. It didn't mind the occasional hunt of a wild animal or two, but it hated groups—especially intelligent beings—killing each other. So it moved itself to keep forces from clashing. As kind as it was affectionate, it welcomed newcomers but hated letting go once it had them.
"...So these mirages are the plains not wanting us to leave?"
"That's right. We don't know everything about it, but long experience proves it."
Seemed like mirages were inevitable when trying to leave.
"No need to fear. They just shimmer, nothing more."
"One truth alone: the plains won't harm us. Remember that."
Got it. No wonder everyone was so casual. Seeing the elders' relaxed attitudes eased my mind a bit.
I looked back at the shimmering plains. Now that I knew why, it felt like a clingy friend grabbing my pant leg, bawling "Don't go!" I couldn't help but snicker.
...Still dizzying, though. Better not to look if I could help it.
With the anxiety gone, hunger hit. I headed back to the wagon, reassured the kids—they'd already adapted and were playing excitedly. Guess I was the only nervous one. I tore into some dried jerky and flopped down.
......
It didn't hurt us directly, but as a deliberate roadblock from the Great Plains itself, even tough beastkin couldn't ignore the endless mirages forever.
People who'd brushed it off at first soon kept their heads down, staring at the ground as they walked. Surprisingly, the sheep, cows, and horses stayed unfazed to the end. Probably only visible to us.
Luckily, the mirages faded abruptly after two days. Guess that was how long it took the affectionate plains to compose itself.
Finally willing to let us go, it unveiled a crisp, open vista. Seeing normal scenery after two days, we tribesfolk cheered together in relief.
Our shouts must've been too loud—the nearby grazing sheep flock startled like a car engine revving, leading to wolf beastkin chasing them down in a minor fiasco.
"Ahh~ Missed this view. Thought I'd gotten sick of it, but damn, it's like a goddess now."
I climbed onto the wagon for the first time in ages, savoring the breeze. My body shivered in the cool air, but it felt good.
Staring blankly at the vast plain, it seemed even wider than before. So wide it messed with my distance sense.
A video from my past life popped into my head. One about optical illusions: a boat skimming a calm lake, distant trees lining a serene shore. But when the guy panned to the motor, the "slow" boat was actually flying at high speed. No fixed reference points in wide-open views tricked your speed perception.
That was me right now. Not zooming like in the video, but staring at the far horizon made the world feel frozen.
I zoned out like that. One hour, two. Just letting time pass thoughtlessly.
Then a nagging wrongness jolted me upright.
"...The landscape hasn't changed."
That square rock on the right from hours ago? Still there. No matter the distance, we should've passed it—it belonged on the left now.
I double-checked my memory on other landmarks. That rock on the right? Same spot. The low hill far off? Unmoved. Hell, even that roll-cake-shaped cloud—why hadn't I noticed?—hung identical.
Everything in place. Only the sun had shifted.
We'd been moving all this time... but hadn't advanced at all.
Beeeep—!Beeeep—!
Up ahead, they'd noticed too—not a rest horn, but an emergency stop blared.
Looks like the Great Plains' clinginess wasn't done yet.