#critfic

When Beau, Nott, and Caleb, all children of the Empire with its rigid, pragmatically-focused concept of what animal forms Mean about personal worth and morality, first meet Caduceus, a lot of things about him are jarring. The whole situation is jarring. They are traveling with two strangers, having lost three of their number to kidnapping slavers, and one to death or worse, without even a body left to mourn. Caduceus's calming presence is a balm, but much of his behavior is strange.

Case and point: with no preamble, as they all get ready to leave the graveyard he lives in, he turns into a great, fluffy bovine. "By the way," he said, "I plan on carrying my own supplies like this, since it's a bit easier. I'm not very strong as a firbolg, but yaks are sturdy. I can take more weight than this, too, so if you've got any heavy supplies you won't need too quickly, go ahead and load them on. Plenty of space left over."

"Wait, can you just do that?" Nott gapes. "Like, I know stuff only has to be on one form, but can you actually just carry a bunch of stuff and not even worry about it on the other form? That WORKS???"

"Well, your bag does not go away even when you shift, yeah?" Caleb says. "It's, eh, as long as you do not over-encumber one form, it is fine. Even so, ah...Caduceus, are you certain? That is very--You do not need to take on our..."

"It's fine," Caduceus says happily, "I'm made for carrying."

He is indeed, although it never stops being a bit humorous, watching Caduceus stand in only his armor and the single bag he uses for more common items, only to occasionally realize he has left something he needs on his other form. Turning into a yak in the same way one would search their other pair of pants for their house key is amusing in its own sense, but it is also very convenient to have someone who is so capable of acting as the party's beast of burden.

---

Sometime after dealing with Avantika, a conversation occurs, one night. It's after Fjord has finally let them all see his animal form, for the first time, after escaping the flooding temple. They are all huddled together, glad to be on dry land again after so long, gathered about a campfire. Caduceus, comfortably in animal form, speaks up, as Fjord admits that he does not want to know what it "means" to be an otter.

"It's not as restrictive as you might think," he says. "The Wildmother gives us these forms as a gift, a way to guide us, not something to force us into any one role."

Caleb twitches a bit, at that. He's heard Caduceus mention this a few times, now, and it's a very odd philosophy, but one that makes sense for a follower of the Wildmother, he supposes.

"For example, I actually didn't like my animal form at all the first time i shifted," Caduceus says, and Beau spittakes hard enough to nearly break her distance record on spitting. "No, really," he says with a laugh. "I was furious. I've never been much into physical activity, you know, so getting some big beast of burden felt like I was being punished. I thought I was expected to go into manual labor now, and I fought with my parents about it at one point."

"...Yeah?" Fjord says, voice soft and complicated.

"But then, I realized: Burdens don't have to be physical." Caduceus smiles, and shakes his head, nearly dislodging Molly where he's tangled himself up in thick pink-and-gray fur. "Being a yak like this doesn't mean I have to be a physical worker, it means I'm meant to carry things. But I get to choose what it is I'm carrying. And I like helping people carry things that weigh them down, so to speak. So like I said: it's a guide, it's not meant to restrict you, only advise you towards what you're meant to do."

Fjord looks....thoughtful, for a long time after that.

---

The next day, Caleb is also thinking about it, when Caduceus catches him in his thoughts.

"You look like you're feeling pretty heavy, Mr. Caleb," he says, giving him a gently prying look.

Caleb allows himself a wry smile. "Eh, thinking about what you said last night, I suppose," he admits.

"Good thoughts, I hope?"

Not really, in truth. Caleb has to think hard about the answer.

"It is a...a nice sentiment, I think, but not always true," Caleb says. "I do not know that the shape of one's soul indicates, ah, purpose so much as...inescapable truths. In your case, I think you are right, of course, but for others..."

For himself, at least, he knows it mustn't be quite right. He knows his own truth. Remembers his mentor, a man so alike Caleb himself that their souls are the same species, telling him what being a cat meant, and being so excited for that at the time.

"Oh?" Caduceus asks. "And what wouldn't it be true of?"

"Well, cats, for one thing," Caleb says. "Cats are made to kill rats, after all. Nothing more." It had been so exciting, then, to be told his sole purpose was to hunt and destroy traitors, but now it felt like shackles--comforting ones, at least; he deserved to be a creature built to torture and kill others.