The sudden appearance of the cocoon had shocked him.

Startled, he pushed himself backwards, frantically trying to create a safe distance. Varied thoughts raced through his mind, still hazy from the smoke; the most prevalent one ‘How’d that get here’.

His eyes searched left and right, looking for answers he would surely not find lying on the ground. To his right, Enda was hunched over expelling whooping coughing sounds.

Wishing to help, he stood up quickly. Or at least tried to. No strength filled his legs, only tingling pricks traveled from his feet up his calves. Swaying unsteady, he fell to his knees, a dull pain spreading on impact. Still his feet remained asleep, only a dull pressure convincing him that they were still connected. His apprehension flared, and his gaze snapped back at the cocoon.

First, create some distance, then assess the situation. If necessary, kill it with fire.

Enda’s coughing returned his attention to the situation in front of him. His head spun to the right, and his hand sped forward with determination, but stopped suddenly.

She looked so ... vulnerable. His mind was filled with ... white cloth?

Confusion spread. He wondered briefly how part of the cocoon had managed to get stuck at that place, just before recognition hit. This was no spidery cocoon but an enigmatic cotton cloth, covering a stimulating shape. Something that intrigued the minds of men and adolescent boys everywhere. Anywhere.

His heart rate sped up at the unexpected ‘gift’ even as his emotional state was rapidly approaching turmoil. Conflicting emotions of excitement and guilt washed over him.

No, this wasn’t the time for this, he forced his mind back to the ‘Elephant’ in the room.

A voice within protested, but he knew the cocoon proved the more important issue,

Ok, change of plans. Create some distance, drag Enda along, assess the situation, maybe cop a feel. Don’t get dead. And then, if necessary, kill it with fire.

Taking a big gulp of spicy, smoky air, his fingers dug into the floor, and he pushed himself forward. His legs were waking up slowly, too slowly, only the feeling of tiny needles stabbing into them as proof that something was even happening.

A sudden noise broke his concentration.

His head spun back to the cocoon. Nothing. Just like before. Would his neck survive this constant shifting, rotating?

The noise? A shriek.

Now, a groaning sound, too high pitched for Enda though.

His hand felt something squishy.

A probing squeeze was answered with a cute ‘Kyah’, followed by a moan.

What the hell was going on here? The situation was developing into a never-ending mess.

Looking at his hand, a misty figure was trapped beneath his palm, about the size of a fashion doll. What the hell was Monster High? The milky-transparent female shape was barely visible, but cast a gentle lime green glow on its immediate surroundings, namely his hand and floor. Her futile struggle to break free only helped to gently massage the insides of his hand.

Her wriggling stopped only after she noticed him staring at her.

With a blinding flash of light, her whole body became visible.

A familiar shape. The image of a recent acquaintance floated to his mind.

The girl trapped underneath his palm, was the same girl he met in his vision, only shining less brightly. Her contours were clearly visible this time, an adorable face with a pointy nose looking back at him. Her bright, almost glowing, green eyes peered into his, before her line of sight darted to the side.

Her cheeks flushed green, and her long ears lowered in embarrassment, before she started twiddling with her fingers and mouthing words.

What was supposed to be OK if it was him?

Trying to move his hand away, her ears twitched nervously and her blush intensified.

A sudden whack assaulted his head, followed by a dull pain.

His hands flew to the aching spot on the top of scalp, caressing it, and he turned to face his attacker.

Two voices overlapped, thick with an Irish accent, muttering annoyed,

“Foighne ort!” - “Get a Grip”

But what truly puzzled him was that both voices sounded the same. Like some recording of the same person speaking two different languages and then playing both at the same time.

With unbelieving eyes, he mouthed words, no sounds escaping, staring at the old granny.

“Ni getting any óg … spit it out!” The twin voices began overlapping, being almost in sync.

“Why are you speaking English?” … the ‘almost’ he swallowed.

“Eengriish?”

What? His confusion intensified. Just now he heard her speaking almost perfect English. But this she wasn’t getting? Annoyance mixed into confusion. He was about to speak ...

“Oh, means te DreamWaw’k, prrobable. Makes ye fanny in te head forr a’vail”

One eyebrow rose almost reflexively, his annoyance outgrowing his confusion. Was she doing this on purpose now? It sounded almost like an Irish accent… his tirade stopped momentarily.

What’s Irish? Must be a language, if it isn’t an accent. His eyes widened with a late realization. What was English? Also a language, obviously. A language he spoke. And Irish … as well? Probably, maybe? Was he really able to speak it? His initial instinct, no.

Unsure at the end of his discovery, uncertainty began winning over annoyance again.

Was Irish a language, or merely an accent for English speaking people? How did he know ‘English’ and ‘Irish’ but not of ‘Englishland’ or ‘Irishland’ … no, the words felt wrong, somehow.

His thought process sped up again, trying to connect dots he wasn’t even sure were there.

Englishland … Irishland … England, there that felt better. Iriland, no, also wrong. Irland? that also felt wrong … close, but wrong… maybe Ireland? Yes, that felt finally right.

England and Ireland. Two ... countries, maybe? Was one of them his home?

He couldn’t be sure, but he did not feel like they were. But they were connected, somehow ... If only he could find out how ...

“Oye, brroke any marrbles? Wan’ me t’hit ya again?” The older fox asked him, amusement prevalent in her voice. And just a tinge of concern?

“Have you heard of ‘England’ or ‘Ireland’ by any chance?”

The granny scratched her chin pensively. Her eyes grew distant, searching for any memories connected to the terms. She found none apparently, shaking her head, before addressing him again.

“Nope, ne’er heard of Eengland or Eyerland. There’re some islands in the seas to t’e west of ‘ere. Or so te merchant claims...”

‘Now that was a bust’ he thought dejectedly. Well, the islands to the west could be a possible clue, but it felt wrong to him. He did connect Ireland with islands in his mind, but something still felt off.

He surveyed the room again, still under the watchful gaze of the old fox woman.

Something felt different.

When he first arrived, he felt almost nothing. Now, however, the room, although spacious, seemed simple, quaint even. Like something from older times. Much older.

But that was not what surprised him. No the sudden feeling was. Nothing when he came here, something after the ‘Dreamwalk.’

It felt weird to say it, even if only in his thoughts, but now, he felt ... warmer. As if he was trapped in ice before, but now he was thawing out. And with it, his feelings began bubbling to the surface.

“Oye, focus, som’tin’s happinin’ to te Cocoon!” The old vixens expectant voice pulled him from his thoughts. Even if he knew he was on to something, he needed more information first.

Besides, the Cocoon was the more pressing of his concerns.

His attention returned to the ‘Cocoon,’ something indeed was happening to it.

Whatever was inside was trying to break free. Two spiders, one small, one slightly larger, had entered the chamber and were flanking it. Two spiders? His mind began connecting the pieces. In his haste, he had forgotten one important piece of the puzzle ...

The oval structure was beginning to show cracks.

Liquid and steam escaped from the growing fissures, creating a hissing sound.

A large chunk of the cocoon suddenly broke away.

Four fingers, or more like claws, grabbed the side, exerting strength, cracking the shell even further.

At first only silver hair was visible, but it quickly gave way to olive skin.

The darker parts reminded of the chitin plating of the spider’s original from, cyan veins were pulsating strongly in rhythm of her heartbeat, he guessed.

Her heart rate appeared to be elevated. But then, how could one tell, with a giant humanoid spider. No, arachnid human?

Her wet silver hair, shoulder length, clung tightly to her face, only the full iris-blue lips and a pointy chin were uncovered.

Parting it with her three-clawed hands, the heart shaped face became visible.

Three claws?

A second pair of arms extended from her back, over her shoulders, and a third brushed past her hips. The dark chitin plating glistened in the artificial light of the Mana Stones.

On each side of the face, three eyes were arranged in a triangular fashion, one large and two smaller ones at its side, for a total of three pairs.

Almost entirely dark, only the irises were white, dotted with rounded pupils.

Thin brows arched over the the three pairs of eyes, ending just with the brow bone.

Chitin ridges grew out of the temples, snaking their ways along the sides, just above the ears.

It looked almost like a tiara made of dark glistening bone, or chitin.

The breasts were bare, and just the right size for the frame. Not too small, but certainly not too big. Even her nipples ...

He blushed as she noticed him staring, equally glad and regretful that his gaze did not wander lower, past her shapely hips and thin, long, yet muscular legs and hidden between the thigh gap ...

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He had to wince, as a sudden pinch assaulted his right ear, before an annoyed metal chime was heard.

Ok, so he did look, but he didn’t get a good look!

The two spiders flanking the cocoon, the smaller male and the larger female, quickly stepped forward and presented the changed spider, now a spider-woman, with clothes.

A silk lace camisole dress was held out, which she leisurely changed into.

It barely reached her thighs.

Another item was handed to her, a black frayed asymmetrical skirt, heavily favoring the right side.

A dark red leather underbust corset pushed up her twin bulges, barely hidden by the lace of the camisole dress.

With every breath she took, the breasts moved in rhythm, and the lace top expanded slightly.

A leather belt finished the sensual assemble, lined with pockets and pouches.

With a sultry voice, she introduced herself,

“Greetings Traveler, my name is ‘Fíodíor‘ we met previously ...” then her voice turned high-pitched, “... oh the fairy’s here, goodie, come here little one, I won’t bite … hehehe … oops, I’m drooling again ...”

‘The shadow woman?’ The arachnid creature in the ‘Dreamwalk’? His guess was right. The spider-woman in the dream had indeed been the same spider from before. But how had she changed forms? Was this something all spiders could do? His gaze swept over the other two, half expecting them to weave cocoons around themselves and begin a similar change as well.

Her sultry voice resounded again. She must have managed to regain her composure.

“Well, this was unexpected. I have only heard of such transformations ... must have been centuries since ...”

Her pitch was returning to the ‘annoying’ frequency.

“Oh ... yes ... the spiders of old ... if enough Mana was present … yes, yes … but with just a Dreamwalk? … maybe that last place ... ?”

So, his ‘Dreamwalk’ was the cause of it. At least it wasn’t a singular event. Past occurrences hopefully meant someone had studied the phenomenon.

“So, that last place, huh?” He added, trying to sneak it into her thought process.

“yes yes … that was almost certainly … but no, it couldn’t have been … but that’s the only ...”

“The only possibility yes, but what was that place?” Come on, throw me a bone here.

“The Space in between the Planes … but only ...” Finally, answers were leaking out!

“Only … what?”

The spider-woman stopped her ramblings. He wanted to shout at her to continue, but an aggressive attitude would possibly have the opposite effect, so he swallowed his dissatisfaction.

Her eyes turned to him, and she began to study him, as if she just realized he was here.

“Yes? How may I be of service?” He asked with a polite bow.

“Undress?” She asked hopefully.

“Hm, let me think … here’s a clue: NO!” What was up with that spider-woman? Offer some dinner first. Some mood would be good. He wasn’t some wild animal that would jump ...

His mind returned to the scene of her awakening.

The reflection of the green light from her skin. The supple breasts, her curvaceous waistline down to her wide hips.

He tried to shake the excitement from his mind. Something was wrong. Very wrong. She wasn’t human and yet still, her bare body kept popping up in his mind.

“Tis te ‘Dreamwalk,’ youngling. Messes wit ya head, I told ya!”

The old female fox seemed to have read his mind. So he wasn’t some Furryphile, only drugged? That would make everything better ... well, a little.

“So how long will this last?” He was frightened he might make a mistake he couldn’t quite undo.

“I can make it go away real fast. First time I had such a body … feel like experimenting!” The sultry voice returned.

Something was tugging at him. His reason as well.

But mostly, it was the small fairy, floating about a meter above ground. Her cheeks were puffed up angrily.

It looked more adorable than furious.

His eyes locked with Enda’s. Her cheeks flushed red, embarrassment apparent. Her hands moved between her thighs, protectively. Her face turned away, flustered, trying to avoid his gaze. Was the idea really so uncomfortable?

“D-don’t even t-tink about it! I-I have someone t-tat I like ...” Ah, even she had an Irish accent ...

She was cute, after all. For all her hotheadedness, could she be weak to frontal attacks?

“Well, he was lookin’ at yer panties earlier” Why’d the old woman only have to butt in with that.

“Oh … looking up my dress? ...” Enda’s voice was cold. Icy cold. The furious voice of wind chimes didn’t help. A cold shiver ran down his spine. She didn’t have a dagger or some other weapon tucked in her sleeves somewhere? Tsundere’s are uncool, you know!

Another round of whacks. First Enda’s then his. The spider-woman chuckled, as if she was not involved. Well, she was partially innocent anyway.

“Te most important part’s still waitin’. Or don’t ye want yer name, lad?”

Lad, seriously? Was he some kid … how old was he, anyway? He guessed older than Enda. She seemed younger than him. The spider-woman? ‘Fíodíor‘ as she introduced herself? Somehow she seemed about the right age.

“Fíodíor, how old are you?”

“Eight.”

OK, maybe not. Eight, really? Forget Zoophile ... Furryphile? ... had he drifted into another forbidden area of deviancy? He looked at the fairy.

No, nothing.

Maybe he was still alright.

Children, huh? Somehow the thought angered him. Made him furious actually. It wasn’t OK to even joke about this. But death was too quick a release ...

“Enough about tat, we have to get movin’” Enda had been quiet for awhile. Made sense she wanted to get a move on. She did have someone she liked … He ignored the tightening in his chest. These ‘Dreamwalk’ side effects were starting to annoy him.

“So what am I supposed to do?”

“Well first, ye get yer name!”

His ears perked up at that. His name? Had the old woman discovered his? Could this be on step towards figuring out what was going here.

“So, what did ye learn in te Dreamwalk?”

“He appears to be an exile,” Fíodíor added.

An exile? “An exile from where?”

“Don’t know … not important … but what was that light spirit?”

That’s what he wanted to know!

“And where’d ya think yer going, Enda?” An angry voice reverberated in the chamber.

The groups attention focused on her, Enda appeared to be sweating buckets. She had hoped she could steal away, but the old vixen had spotted her.

“I must prepare for the hunt! Every minute ...”

“And you’ll take the exile wit ya.”

Wha…?!

“What? Why do I have to...” Enda’s furious outburst mirrored his sentiment. Maybe less on the furious part.

“Surely his arrival was no coincidence … he has a role to play … and you’ll see to it he plays it”

Doesn’t he get to have a vote?

“So Exile? Is that OK with you?” Ah, arachnid goddess, at least she wished to know whether he even wanted to fight.

“Is the name alright with you?”

His shoulders dropped dejectedly. He should have known. Oh spider, why must she wound him thus?

“Isn’t ‘Exile’ kind of … you know … sad?” Enda mumbled under breath. She had returned to her seat, plopping back down in seiza. Had she given up on leaving early? Or merely recognized that sometimes, the way of least resistance would lead to survival?

“Ye’re right lassie.” What was this vixen planning?

An excited jingle of wind chimes erupted next to him. All the sudden developments had stopped him from noticing, but why could he not understand the little fairy?

“Hm, Wanderer? Sounds ...  hopeful ...” Fíodíor added glumly, lacking any ‘hopefulness.’

“Well Ah don’t like it” the old granny wasn’t amused. She preferred ‘Exile,’ huh. Why did he feel the sudden need to get a long beige robe and a lightsaber? … What was a ‘lightsaber’ anyway.

“Ah, a’right,  Wanderer it is ...” She conceded unhappy.

“So, time to prepare for yer journey, Siúlóir”

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Author’s note:

And finally we have the name. For those of you wondering why the chapter is titled companions, while it ends with his Name … because it developed as such as I was typing? And we do get to meet the companions? Most of them … right?

In any case, hope you enjoy it, let me know what you think of it. I tried to be a tad bit more humorous in both this and the Arifureta Fanfic in this week’s chapters. Let me know whether a.) I succeeded and b.) I should attempt it in future chapters.

Next chapter will be ‘Preparation’ and I will refrain from trying to write an ‘Irish accent’ because a.) it isn’t easy and b.) it probably reads weirdly.

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