Practical ethics

It was a warm evening, the warmth enveloping the small fairy like a comfortable blanket even as she flew, contrasting pleasantly with the cool rush of air caused by her own motion. Night had almost fallen; her shimmering, fast-beating translucent wings reflected the light from the fading sun, and the weaker glow of the large rising moon. It would be a clear night; there were no clouds, and only a curved sliver was missing from the moon’s near-full orb. The twilight kept the features of the forest, great and small, from fading into deep darkness. Nonetheless, the thick shadows between the trees made the night a hazardous time to venture out alone in the luxuriant jungle, and the fairy was feeling dozy; it was high time for her to settle, and sleep.

Her name was Feinee; she was, like most of her kind, quite naked, her lithe build and sun-kissed, light golden skin attesting to her healthy, simple life in the natural environment, the only one she knew. Her long hair, flowing on beneath her shoulders, was a striking sky blue, matching her eyes. Her sleepiness was due in part to the late hour, but also to her similarly late meal. She had just eaten a neko, along with a large helping of sweet, juicy fruit, and she was feeling pleasantly full. Now her mind was focused only on reaching her nearby destination, curling up on a branch, and sleeping off her meal in the safe, comforting presence of a friend.

The friend in question was concealed to her, and indeed to the sight and other senses of every other being in the vicinity. But Feinee knew exactly where she was, and could identify her camouflage at a glance. She stopped at a particular tree, standing gigantic amidst several of similar size, and she fluttered in the air before it for a few moments. When there was no response, she concluded that the dryad must be fast asleep. Shelny seemed to do a lot of sleeping –poor thing, rooted in one place all the time!, she thought–, and she had no intention of disturbing her. Instead, she alighted softly on one of the tree woman’s branches, her bare feet almost imperceptible against the hard wooden surface and soft moss. She lowered herself down onto it, and folded her bare arms as a pillow, resting her weary head with a contented sigh. The warm air seemed to settle over her like a blanket, just as her soft hair spilled over her shoulders. She lay on her side, closing her eyes. There was a slight sloshing sound from her full tummy as its contents shifted with her movement, before coming to rest. The warm sense of fullness soothed and bathed her. She exhaled a soft little sigh, and drifted within moments into a blissful sleep.

* * *


Clop, clop, clop. The unfamiliar sound of giant hooves stirred the early morning patch of forest, as the sun chased away the night’s lingering shadows. The hooves belonged to a giant centauress, dapple grey, with a silvery white tail and long hair to match. Her face was soft and youthful, gently rounded; her eyes, a light chestnut brown, scanned the trees, searching. It had been several years since she had last visited this place, and, although her memory was generally good, she was not at all certain that she was even in the right general location.

A neera scampered out from beneath a root just before her front right hoof came down upon that patch of ground; the tiny woman hurried away, so miniscule that the horse-woman did not even notice her. Her gaze was on the trees, trying to match patterns, shapes and leaves with the hazy, shifting image in her memory. In her right hand, she held a single male human, mostly naked, who was staying very quiet, glancing up at her fearfully now and then, and seemingly hoping that –distracted as she appeared– she might just forget about him altogether.

Eventually she sighed, annoyed at herself. She had, it seemed, been ridiculously optimistic in believing she could find a camouflaged dryad from sheer memory, in a largely unfamiliar terrain. Everything here were very different to what she was used to; there were so many trees!

Ah, well. Only one thing to do.

“Shelny?” she called, her voice carrying out over the tranquil morning forest.

There was no immediate answer. She made her way slowly between the serene, surprisingly diverse trees. “Shelny? It’s Hadyn. Remember me? I’ve come to visit.”

Was that a rustling sound, from somewhere behind her? She turned, trying to pinpoint it. Somewhere off to the side…

“I’m over here.” A serene, gentle voice, matching the peaceful atmosphere of the forest. Hadyn breathed out a little sigh of relief. She trotted towards what seemed like the source.

“I can’t see you yet. Can you wave, or something?”

A light green arm waved in a friendly, sweeping motion, embarrassingly close. I should have spotted her! the centauress thought, blushing a little, as she turned to make her way over to her.

“Good morning, there!” Shelny smiled at her. She looked just a little bit sleepy, but above all her smooth, lovely face radiated the soothing kindness that Hadyn remembered. She was fully visible now, her long, deep black hair cascading over the green skin of her chest.

“Hi!” Hadyn returned the smile. “You remember me, then?”

“Of course I remember you! You lived round here for a while, quite a long time ago. With friends of yours. Then you all went back to… the Great Rocky Fields?”

“That’s right!” The centauress smiled, pleased. They embraced, briefly, then she stepped daintily back, facing her.

“You’re looking well!” the dryad said, seeming equally pleased. “How have you been?”

“Oh…” Hadyn grinned. “Great, I guess!” She looked at her. “You’re looking great!”

Shelny smiled softly. “It’s kind of you to say so. What brings you to my part of the forest, then? You’re quite a long way from home. Though it’s lovely to see you!”

“Oh! Well…” Hadyn’s smile broadened, a faint touch of pinkness appearing on her cheeks. “My girlfriend, Lin, she’s a harpy… She lives in the Rocky Fields, of course, like me, but just recently she decided to go looking for her dad. He’s a naga, and she’s never met him, and apparently he lives round here.”

“And she’s with him now?”

“She’s looking for him. I’ve come with her here to the forest, but she wanted to be alone when she first meets her dad… He probably doesn’t even know she exists, and she didn’t want to overwhelm him by introducing me too.”

Shelny smiled. She always enjoyed hearing tales about people being happy in their lives. “Have you been with… Lin, right? Have you been with her long? Coming with her all this way, you sound devoted.”

Hadyn grinned, with a slight blush. “A while, yes! She’s fun. Very… How shall I say this? Outgoing? She likes to look on the good side of things, and she thinks life should be lived to the full while we have it, and… Well, I kind of agree.”

“The harpy talk must have taken some getting used to.”

Hadyn laughed. “Right! So weird, at first. But now I find myself using it sometimes too! Lin just makes fun of me when I try; she says I get it all wrong.”

They smiled at each other. Shelny’s gaze shifted to the human held casually in the centauress’ hand; Hadyn seemed almost to have forgotten about him, moving her hands about and then letting her arms rest by her side.

“I see you’ve got a human,” she said, as lightly as she could. “You do remember that–”

“Oh!” Hadyn exclaimed. “Oh, yes, right! No, yes, I remember you don’t eat humans. I just, I wanted to bring you something, some sort of gift, but I couldn’t think of what, and then I found this little thing wandering around the forest, and I remembered… Correct me if I’m wrong? I remembered you like to rescue little humans who get lost. So I brought him to you.” She held him out, quickly, with a half-hopeful, half-apologetic smile.

Shelny laughed, softly. “Well, thank you, then! That’s very thoughtful.” She took the human very gently, and settled him on the palm of her hand. “Hello there,” she said kindly, making her tone as reassuring as possible. “You have nothing to be afraid of. Nobody’s going to hurt you.”

The man stared up at her, awe-struck, and nodded, shivering just slightly.

“I’m Shelny,” she went on. “Would you like to tell me your name?”

“I’m…” His throat was dry, and he coughed. “I’m Larish.”

“Larish.” She smiled again. “By the looks of you, you’re a native to these parts. Am I right?”

He nodded again.

“Do you know where you are?” she asked. “Can you find your way back home from here?”

“I… Yes.”

“Then we’ll let you get back home safely, away from us big scary giants,” she said warmly. Leaning down, she placed him very carefully on the ground. “Off you go, little one! Stay safe.”

He looked up at her, craning his neck, and breathed out a sigh of relief. “Thank you!” he said, a little uncertainly. They watched him hurry off between the trees.

“So… He wasn’t actually lost?” Hadyn asked, mildly embarrassed.

“No.” Shelny laughed gently. “But don’t worry about it. The thought was nice.”

“Do you rescue humans like that often?” she asked, curious.

“From time to time.”

“And… I mean, if I remember right, you have a lot of fairies who spend time with you, no?”

Shelny’s face brightened, with a warm glow of affection. “Yes!” she said, happily. “Little sweeties. They come and play with me, and cuddle up with me, and tell me all about what they get up to. I love every one of them. They’re a bit like what your girlfriend Lin sounds like: full of life!” She sighed, beaming. “The day they moved into my area was one of my happiest.”

Hadyn could not help but smile. “They sound lovely.”

“Oh, they are!”

“But how do you get them not to eat your humans?”

“Oh, they’re very good about that. Most of the time. They know it would upset me, so they simply don’t. Sometimes, they even bring me humans who need help! Just to please me.”

Hadyn shook her head, still smiling. “It’s a weird thing you’ve got going here. You don’t eat humans at all, then?”

“I haven’t eaten any since I was quite young,” Shelny said softly.

“You know, I think you’re the first person I meet who doesn’t like the taste of humans,” she said intrigued. “I thought everyone ate them! You do eat elves though, right? I’ve heard there are some in the forest. You’re so lucky; we don’t get any elves where I live!”

“Oh, I do like the taste of humans!” Shelny corrected her, mildly startled at the misunderstanding. “Or at least, I used to. When I was young, I ate them whenever I could. But no, I don’t eat elves either. Or any animals at all, in fact. It’s not a question of taste. It’s a question of… principle.”

The centauress tilted her head, curious. “I don’t understand.”

Shelny moistened her lips, a little hesitant. “I can explain if you want me to. But I’ve found that most people prefer not to know.”

“Please,” Hadyn said politely. “I’m interested.”

“Well… All right.” The dryad took a moment to compose her thoughts. “You eat humans, and other animals, because you enjoy their taste, right?”

Hadyn nodded. “Yes.”

“Any other reason?”

“Well… I need to eat! When I find food, if I’m hungry, I need to eat it.”

“Do you also eat humans when you’re not hungry?”

“Of course.” Hadyn smiled a little. “I don’t find them very often, so it would be a shame to let them go when I do.”

Shelny nodded. “You know, of course, that humans don’t want to be eaten.”

“Right.” The centauress considered it for a moment. “Yes, well… Nothing wants to be eaten. If we let food go just because it wants to get away, we’d starve.”

“That’s true; you do need to eat. I’ll come to that. But for now, I want to ask you… Have you ever wondered why humans, and other animals don’t want to be eaten? Why they all try to run away, or to beg you to let them go?”

Hadyn laughed, startled. “Well… I mean…” She stopped, and thought. “I mean, it’s kind of obvious, isn’t it? It’s natural. All animals have a… a…”

“A natural impulse to want to continue living?” Shelny suggested kindly.

“Right! Yes, that.”

“So it’s a conflict between their desire to live, and your desire to eat them.”

“I suppose so, yes.”

“So here’s the question.” A gentle smile floated on Shelny’s lips. “Why should your desire to eat them win out over their desire to live?” She paused. “We can stop this conversation any time if it makes you feel uncomfortable,” she added.

“No, that’s fine…” Hadyn said, slowly. “It’s interesting to hear your view. It’s just… I’d never thought of it that way before.” She paused in turn. “Give me a moment to think?”

“Please do,” Shelny smiled.

The centauress frowned to herself, mulling it over. “Are you saying it’s… wrong to eat animals? Just because they try to get away?”

“I’m saying,” Shelny said gently, “that they have an understandable desire to stay alive. Their life is precious to them: it’s everything that they’ve got. If you see it from their perspective, if they lose their life, they lose everything. If we want to be ethical in the way that we live, I think we should take that into account. I would say that the importance of their lives, to them, outweighs our desire to have them as food. In principle,” she added quickly. “In practice, I realise it’s sometimes necessary to compromise.”

Hadyn was visibly struggling to absorb that, but remained interested. “But I don’t see how I can ‘see it from their perspective’. They’re just animals. They’re there to be eaten; it’s what everyone does.”

“Including humans and elves?”

“Well, yes. They know they’re going to be eaten. That’s what they’re there for. What does it matter if it’s me that eats them, rather than someone else?”

“So are you saying they don’t have a perspective, that you can imagine yourself in?”

“Yes.” Hadyn nodded, her confidence increasing a little. “They’re too different from us. I can’t imagine being a lizard, or a duiker, or a human, or a bird. They don’t have… I don’t think they have complex minds like we do.”

“Humans do,” Shelny disagreed softly. “But that’s hardly the point, is it? Whether or not they have minds like ours isn’t what matters. What matters is what they experience. When they sense you coming, and they try to get away, they feel fear – even terror. Whatever type of creature they may be. When you catch them, their terror increases. When you eat them, if you swallow them alive, they feel pain when you digest–” Seeing a grimace of discomfort on Hadyn’s pretty face, Shelny continued: “I’m sure you can imagine those types of experience. You can imagine being afraid of something that can hurt you and kill you. You can imagine being in pain.”

The centauress bit her lip, ill at ease. “I’m not sure I want to imagine that,” she admitted.

“It’s all right; that’s up to you.” Shelny smiled a little sadly. “I’m just explaining to you why I choose not to eat them, since you asked.”

Hadyn nodded, slowly. “But… OK, I think I see what you mean, kind of. I’m not sure I agree with you, but anyway… I have to eat. We centaurs need a lot of food. More than harpies, for example. Back home, in the Great Rocky Fields, I eat whatever I can. I mean, I eat a lot of plants, but my mum always said, when I was growing up, that I should have a balanced diet. A lot of plants, but also animals.”

Shelny nodded, her face serious. “You’re quite right. When we try to put our principles into practice, it’s sometimes more difficult. I’ll admit, for me, it’s not too bad. I get my nourishment from the rain, and the sun. And I have friends who bring me fruit. I’m rooted in one place, so I don’t use up much energy, so really it’s enough for me, to keep me healthy. Then, people who live in the forest, they have a great choice of food. Fairies, also, could easily eat not very much. But you, as you said, you need to eat a lot, and from what I’ve heard of the Rocky Fields it’s mostly wide open spaces, without all that much food.”

Hadyn nodded, looking mildly relieved at the acknowledgement. “Yes. So I really have to eat whatever I can.” She paused. “Not that I think it’s wrong to eat lizards or humans or things! But just to go with what you’re saying, for a moment.”

Shelny smiled slightly. “Right. So the point then, if you want to live by certain basic ethical principles, is to see how you can do it in practice. What I mean by that is, if you want to avoid causing unnecessary fear and suffering.” She paused. “I’ve thought about this a lot, for a long time,” she went on seriously. “I’ve talked to humans from other worlds, some of whom were vegetarians. Some even came from worlds where everyone’s a vegetarian. Humans are like us: they’re naturally capable of digesting animals, but they don’t strictly need to, if they can find other sources of nourishment.”

“And do they?”

“Some do.” She paused. “From what I’ve heard, the situation is very different on different human worlds. And even within some worlds. In some places, humans keep very large numbers of animals captive in very small spaces, which causes them a lot of distress and pain–”

Hadyn nodded, troubled. “That sounds wrong. I would never hold a human captive in a small space. Why not let them wander around freely until we need to eat them?” Shelny gave a sad little laugh at the unintended irony, until the centauress went on: “Maybe those humans deserve to be eaten.”

“No!” Shelny disagreed, sharply. Hadyn looked at her, startled. “Sorry,” the dryad blushed. “I didn’t mean to snap. But no-one ever deserves to be eaten. Ever. You eat if you have to. But you can’t make it into some sort of punishment.”

“All right. So… What are you suggesting I should do?”

“First,” Shelny said, “I don’t think it would be realistic to expect you to cut animals out of your diet completely. At least not right from the start. Humans can do it, on some of their worlds, because from what they tell me they have all sorts of other foods available to stay healthy. But for you, where you live, it might be dangerous to your health. So…” She paused, gathering her thoughts. “For someone in your situation, I would suggest gradually cutting down the number of animals you eat, and compensate by eating more plants, while making sure that your diet is still balanced enough for you to feel perfectly healthy. Second, start eating more plants that provide some of the same nourishment as animals. I’m not sure what type of vegetation you have in the Rocky Fields, but I could try to find out. Nuts are usually good to start with.”

Hadyn nodded. She did not look entirely comfortable, but she was still interested. “I’ll keep it in mind. If it doesn’t make my life too difficult.”

“Third, there’s the question of what type of animals to eat, and how you eat them,” Shelny went on. “I know one person, for example, who still eats all animals except those who can talk: humans, and elves, and so on. Which is a good start, of course. But if you want to make a distinction, well… Talking littles and other animals both feel fear and pain, as I said earlier. They can both sense death coming, and struggle to stay alive. I know that humans and other such littles miss one another when one of them dies. So when you eat one, that actually causes pain to their loved ones who survive.” Hadyn flinched at that, but kept listening, trying nonetheless to look somewhat dubious. “I also know that that’s true to some extent for certain other animals as well. A lot of animals will feel a great sense of loss and distress if you eat their young. Humans have told me that that seems mostly true for mammals and birds.”

“Oh great. That’s the animals that I catch most often.”

Shelny smiled apologetically. “As I said, you probably shouldn’t cut them out of your diet completely. But try to cut down, maybe. If you can.” Another pause. “Then there’s the way in which you eat them. If you want to be kind,” she said gently, “you’ll kill them very quickly as soon as you catch them. If you run after an animal –a duiker, a human, whatever–, there’s no way to stop it from feeling terrified. But you can limit its suffering by killing it quickly, before eating it.”

Hadyn pouted. “But half the pleasure comes from swallowing them alive.”

“Not for them,” Shelny said, very gently.

Hadyn sighed. “Okay. Well, you’ve given me something to think about.” She stopped, and remained silent for a moment, somewhat awkwardly.

Shelny laughed, kindly. “I’m sorry. I didn’t want to make you feel ill at ease. Think about it, by all means, but… Shall we talk about something else now?”

The centauress brightened, relieved, and gave a quiet nod.

The dryad smiled in turn. “Maybe you could tell me about the Great Rocky Fields? The only way for me to hear about distant places is from travellers, and it’s always so interesting. And I’d love to catch up on what you’ve been doing these past few years!”

Hadyn grinned. “I hardly know where to start! Let’s see…”

* * *


It was mid-morning by the time they had finished catching up on every conceivable topic, and paused at last, smiling comfortably. By that point, Hadyn was beginning to feel hungry, and excused herself to go and start looking for lunch. She also wanted to see whether Lin had succeeded in finding her father yet – and promised to keep Shelny informed as to how the family reunion had gone.

They embraced, warmly, and parted amidst promises to keep in touch – be it simply through the dryad network.

As she trotted away, in high spirits, Hadyn thought back briefly to the earlier part of their conversation, about the ‘ethics’ of food. She considered Shelny’s views with idle curiosity for a moment, as a novelty, but the matter was not a pleasant one to examine in too much depth; she set it aside. Food was food, after all, and since no-one else in the world seemed to have those types of qualms, surely there could not be much wrong with it. It was the tasty, healthy food that she had been brought up on, and neither her parents nor anyone else had ever suggested there was any moral issue here.

Reassured, she turned her thoughts to Lin, and to the joyful prospect of seeing her united with her long-last father. The thought of seeing Lin happy brought a broad smile to her face, as she made her way through the warm, sunlit, beautifully serene forest.

* * *


Shelny watched the centauress leave, exchanging friendly waves with her until she was out of sight. She sighed softly. Not for the first time, she wondered what it might feel like to actually be able to move, with ease, and simply go and see what lay just beyond her line of sight. But, well, she had learnt long ago to be content with what she had.

Hadyn, she mused, had seemed reluctant to give much thought to what she had said about ethics. Not that she was surprised. Most people’s initial reaction was to shy away from anything that might require them to–

Her line of thought was interrupted by the faint, soft sound of crying. She froze. The sound was coming from very near – almost right beside her. From one of her lower branches, perhaps? A feeling of dismay suddenly filled her. Could it be that–

“Is someone there?” she asked, gently. “Are you okay?”

The crying stopped, with some difficulty. A second or two passed, then the small form of a fairy darted up from one of her branches. At first, it was a flash of sun-tanned skin and long sky blue hair, until the fairy hovered tearfully in the air in front of her face, her little wings beating fast, her face a picture of misery. Shelny’s heart sank.

“Oh… Feinee! What’s wrong, sweetie?”

She held out her hand to her, and the fairy alighted on her palm. She sat down, looked her in the face, and whimpered: “I’m… I’m a monster!” Then she burst into tears.

“Oh, Feinee, no!” Shelny told her, her heart clenching, aching with regret. “No, sweetie, you’re not a monster! You’re not!”

It took several seconds for Feinee to control her tears enough to speak.
“But you said… Eating humans… You said, fear, and pain, and horrible things!” She wiped at her light blue eyes, which were filled with confusion, an anguish that pierced the dryad right to the heart. “Is it true for nekos, too?” she sniffled. “Is it wrong to eat nekos? Do we… do we… do we hurt them, when we eat them?”

“Shhh, sweetie…” Shelny cupped the small fairy in her hands, and stroked her back very softly, her giant finger trailing gently between the distraught young woman’s delicate wings. “I’m so sorry you heard that! If I’d known you were there, I’d have said it… differently.”

Feinee began to cry again.

“Shhh, shhh, shhh…” the dryad cooed. “You’ve never done anything wrong. You can only do something wrong if you know that it’s wrong. You have a pure, good heart. You’ve never meant any harm.”

Feinee whimpered. “I want to let him out again.” It was a whisper, barely audible.

“I’m sorry?” Shelny said gently.

“The neko I ate. I want him to be all right!” She was barely able to speak the words, before dissolving into sobs.

“Shhhhh…” Shelny hushed her, and soothed her, holding her and comforting her as best she possibly could.

And, for once, found that she had no words.


END