Still wrapping up/continuing some old captions. This is a continuation of Were Island from way back in 2023, when I was even worse at numbering things 😅 so I can't say for sure what part in the series this. I think it is part 7.

To summarise since it's been so long, Were Air are a low-cost airline that saves on fuel by tampering with passenger DNA to turn them into smaller, typically female, easily-transportable livestock, with people being able to pay extra for perks. Essentially RyanAir, but not quite such a dehumanising experience.

In the case of Flight 269, it was hijacked by Buddhist extremists with an anti-genetic modification agenda, and brought down on a remote island, dispersing the passengers across a wide area and causing a forest fire 😊

Outside, the jet fuel fire tore across the island. Inside the cave, they could feel its radiant heat on their faces, though the waterfall shielded them from the worst of the smoke. The cavern acted like a chimney, the hot, rising air outside drawing up a cool, damp draught from the deeper darkness within.

Dad slid down the wall, gasping. The race against the oncoming flames had been a close one, and the tip of his tail was singed.

“See? Didn’t I tell you there was nothing to worry about? Just like camping,” he said weakly, flashing his sharp teeth in a feeble smile. He slumped lower against the wall, pulling the rags of their clothing tighter around himself. A yawn escaped him. “You boys rest for now. I’ll keep watch through the night. I’ll wake you when the rescue team arrives.”

“How will they know where to find us?” Simon asked.

There was no reply. Jack glanced over at his father — the man was already fast asleep. A low, bassy, purr-like snore came from him.

Simon clutched his tail nervously. While Jack and his father had been relatively fortunate in their donor genetics, WereAir had rebuilt his older brother using DNA from a prize pedigree house cat. The exertion of keeping up with them, slowed by his oversized, fluffy chest, had taken everything out of him.

“Guess I’ll take first watch,” Jack said.

Simon nodded and curled up beside their father while Jack moved to the mouth of the cave to watch the disaster unfold. Over the crashing of water and the cracking of burning wood, he thought he heard strange, half-animal cries — perhaps other passengers of Flight 268. He wanted to go to them, as foolish and futile as it would have been, but he suppressed the impulse. As his father said, his family came first.

It was difficult to judge the passage of time. Dad had insisted the phone stay switched off to conserve battery, and though Jack felt fatigue like he’d never experienced before, he didn’t feel the slightest bit sleepy. There was something wrong with this body. It was too alert, strung-out, nauseous. His limbs shook from the cold.

Simon stirred restlessly.

“Can’t sleep… I’m burning up…” he moaned.

“What do you mean? It’s freezing,” Jack scoffed. He shuffled closer and pressed a palm to his forehead. “It’s just a fever.”

“We should have landed hours ago. WereAir would have turned us back by now. What if these bodies weren’t made to last this long?” Simon whimpered. “What if I’m dying?”

Jack rolled his eyes. “You think they’d want passengers dropping dead on every delayed flight? Nah. Dad scrimped on the hormone-balancing upgrade, remember? I’m feeling it myself. They’ll just take time to settle, that’s all.”

He swung an arm around his brother’s shoulders. The heat radiating off Simon’s feminized body soothed the chill in his own.

The gesture calmed Simon somewhat. His eyelids began to flutter closed as the heat of their bodies found a pleasing equilibrium.