Late in the afternoon, we came to a steep, almost vertical drop with loose gravel. We had a great view of the next hills as the tallest trees barely reached up to us. The remains of a rotten rope showed how this passage was usually descended. But we had no rope and the gravel started to slide as soon as I got close to the slope. Claws were useless on the big loose stones.

Wait, claws! Squirrel spoke up and I trusted that voice. "Freya, hug my upper shoulders, like on the cliff."

She eagerly followed my invitation.

"Holding on strong!" Then I made a great leap and sailed through the air towards the largest oak, ruddering with my long tail for steering. Freya screamed incomprehensibly.

It felt like an eternity to cross the short distance. We landed with a thud, but my claws held despite the tree swaying wildly.

It took me a few moments to catch my breath but then I felt euphoric. Squirrel was screaming with joy and I was about to descend headfirst, squirrel style. Freya's screaming brought me to my senses and I descended tail-first as fast as I could, ignoring squirrel's protests. A few moments later we were on the ground next to the tree, bark, leaves and acorns still raining down. Freya was clinging to me with all her force, her face pale and shaking violently.

"You can going."

She did not react. I tried to lift her off, but she clung even tighter. So I pried open her fingers one by one, lifted her off and laid her carefully on the almost level ground. She was still white and shivered. How to heal the healer? Faint memories from the driving licence training about the symptoms of a shock surfaced. What was the shock recovery position again? Oh yes, I put her on her side, and keep the victim warm. That I could do, I cuddled up to her back and put my shirt over her.

A little later, her ragged breathing slowed and colour returned to her face. She unclenched her hands and relaxed but did not wake. A smile appeared on her face, though. Hopefully, she was dreaming of something nice. I stayed a little longer. She was sleeping normally now.

After the excitement had died down, well, my bladder was the most excited. So I went a little away. That was the moment squirrel had been waiting for. 'Please, please,' the little voice pleaded. I took another look at Freya, who was still sleeping and smiling. 'Ok,' I said to squirrel, 'one tree.' We chose one of those vertical trees with dense horizontal branches, standing close together but at some distance from Freya. And with grippy bark, squirrel insisted. I climbed up, probing which branches would hold me. And then I jumped to the next tree when it broke. Oh, that was fun. I jumped to the next tree, and the next, and even uprooted some trees that were too thin by landing on them. Then I would immediately jump to the next one. Tree parkour was pure adrenaline. Finally, I heard Freya calling my name. I raced down a larch in a spiral, zigzagging my body through the dense branches, running the last few metres on the ground towards her, overflowing with a guilty conscience for having forgotten her.

"You again ok?" I panted, sitting down on my paws so we were eye to eye.

She just hugged me. "Kiara."

We stood in a tight embrace for a while, I smelled her hair, the tree sap on my claws and the fresh larch needles piercing my fur. And enjoyed her warmth.

Then suddenly she giggled.

"What?"

"The rangers will wonder what kind of monster roamed these woods."

"I not"

"Psst." Then she laughed out loud. "Look!"

I wanted to protest but when I looked around I swallowed: Several not-so-small trees had been felled, their roots pointing accusingly into the air, and even larger trees were still leaning. The area was littered with broken branches, some quite long ones and some thicker than my legs. And many trees had much of their bark stripped off. Indeed, it looked as if a monster had roamed here.

I felt guilty. "But it felt good," I murmured.

"You weigh closer to a horse than a squirrel, you crazy cute squirrel cat," she still laughed, "and that face doesn't suit you. Let's get all the needles and bark out and be back on the road. Strictly on the ground. And never speak of this again.

* * *

We made little progress. I was exhausted from the squirrelling in the trees. And we were now in less of a hurry to reach Krenburg, delaying whatever future would I encounter there. As soon as the shadow got longer, we stopped at the next nice place. This time there was no water nearby. But a big tree had recently fallen (not my work, I promise) and the roots formed a roof, almost like a cave. We laid some leaves on the ground.

To sleep I lay on my back in the hole made by the roots. It was more comfortable than it sounded, a bit like a hammock. Freya lay blissfully on my lower body, her back to me in the afterglow. I covered her with my tail. She radiated a pleasant warmth, the taste of her still on my tongue. A tongue almost made to please, even I shuddered to think what it would feel like to have it inside me.

I wondered if I had become a lesbian. And what Freya was to me. Was it true love? The latter I still denied, it was not like my last crush all too long ago. Maybe not true love, but a deep affection, and I enjoyed the closeness and the intimacy. Freya, on the other hand, had fallen head over heels for me, no question about it. Did I give her the wrong impression that it was mutual? Or was it mutual and I was just in denial?

This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

This could only end in tears. I was a monster. Not to Freya. Well, I had been a tree-murdering monster to her then, and the first instinctive reaction of everyone was a reserved distance if not worse. Even the acceptance at the dance was different. My appearance put a great barrier around me that would never change. I was extremely lucky to have found Freya, who from the first moment took care of me and did not care about my appearance. Or maybe I was her kink. Still, she brought out the best in me. I had never been so witty. And we understood each other so well in those few days. Maybe I had just become too cynical with age to give in to love.

And another concern: I had called for the voices to confirm my feeling of a safe environment. But they were all gone. Cat had fainted two days ago and now squirrel was gone too. Not the knowledge, just the voice. Even the weak one for the tongue was gone. Had I lost them while embracing their function? Had I merged with cat when I jumped, with tongue when I ate out Freya, and with squirrel when a half-horse-sized squirrel roamed the treetops? Did I, or my soul, become one?

Eventually fatigue set in, fuelled by the sore muscles in my claws and the aching arms and legs from all the climbing, rocks and trees.

* * *

Freya was over me, kissing me.

"Sweet dreams?"

Bright sunlight poured into my eyes. Freya stroked my ears. I must have been more exhausted than I thought if she was the first to wake. And of course, I was guilty.

She kissed me. "You purred like crazy." Then she started nibbling my ears. I could only squeak. "Can I have breakfast?" She caressed my breasts.

"Please," I pleaded before everything went white; I suppressed the claws with my last conscious effort.

Still panting and purring, my senses returned.

Freya was sitting on my lower shoulder, playing with the tip of my tail, kneading it. How did she find these good spots so easily? Still, it was my turn!

I grabbed her, used my front paws to pin her small, firm nipple in front of me and worked on her breasts with my hands, and then further down. Soon she was moaning too.

Not much later, my stomach rumbled and I retrieved the last cabbage from the saddle bag. This woke Freya.

"I have to go." And off she went.

With Freya gone, the scent of firs became stronger. These fir needles really did smell good. I put the cabbage back in the bag. A lazy jump onto the big felled tree under which roots we had slept, and I stood on my hind legs, grabbing a sturdy enough tree for support with my right hand and forepaw, while the other two bent the young fir to my mouth. I sliced the fresh branches with my fangs to remove the needles and chewed them like a needle snack on a stick. A young, rich, almost honey-like flavour.

Freya giggled. She could barely touch my hind paws with her fingertips, but it was enough for a mindspeak tease. "Sweet, crazy squirrel cat grazing in the treetops," she sent while laughing.

I chewed on, ignoring her. It was only when I jumped back to the ground and looked up that I realised how I had reduced a young fir tree to something resembling a worn brush. I shrugged. "It will recover next year."

Then Freya got to the saddlebag for her breakfast. I sat across her. She passed me the remining bread. "Here, have the rest."

"Thank you, I eating cabbage."

"I will eat the cabbage," Freya sighed.

For dessert, I ate the very last carrot. The saddlebag was empty and Freya had no idea if there were any settlements nearby. A map would have been nice.

* * *

The sun had wandered far over the sky, it was late afternoon. To sustain myself, I grabbed leaves left and right whenever they looked tasty. Well, some were good, but others were rather inedible. It was a nice distraction to discover the culinary world of forest leaves. I had to chew them for a while and they filled my stomach. But they did not help much with the hunger. I still walked on at a brisk pace.

Then there was fur on a leaf.

"Why are you stopping?"

I sniffed again. "This is wolf territory. Look at the fur," I pointed at a bush.

"Are you afraid of wolves, big squirrel-cat?" But she had answered in silent mindspeak.

She had a point, even if I could not fight them, there was always the option to get into the treetops. "You want to join crazy squirrel-cat into the trees?"

She shook her head violently.

"No, but squirrel-cat has claws and fangs. Squirrel-cat is stronger than a wolf."

She might be right but, "squirrel-cat does not want to fight. And you are on my back. No fights."

"Ok, let's avoid fights and around, I don't think there will be any villages in a wolf territory."

She was right. The question was which way their territory extended. At random I turned a little to the south, coming down from the low ridge we had been following for some time.

It seemed a good guess, there were no more wolf signs. Soon the slopes became steeper and we descended into a valley. I stopped and sniffed for a moment. "Grass and sheep!" With renewed vigour, I walked even faster through the thickets and mud of the brook at the bottom of the valley, until we came to a wooden fence, behind which was a meadow, just 50 paces wide, with the small brook to the left. There were some juicy herbs (or rather weeds, according to Freya) near the stream. I tore off a few for a little snack and then continued on. Even Freya could smell the sheep and the smoke now. After the next bend, there were a few sheep on a small pasture fenced in by a low stone wall on the other end. At the side was a small hut. The inhabitant was dozing in the sun and jumped up when the sheep, sensing my scent, started to huddle together.

"Hej, who goes there?"

I stopped and waited for him to approach so as not to frighten the sheep any further.

"Good afternoon," Freya greeted.

He was young, not older than Freya. His clothes were patchwork and his hair was a mess. Not to mention his smell.

"Hello, I am Kiara."

He almost fell. Not the first time that people overlooked my face just because someone was sitting on my back. Another case of cannot see what I cannot understand.

"Good afternoon, I am Healer Freya," she repeated.

He stood up, still wide-eyed. It was getting old.

Freya waved at him. "Are you all right?"

"Ah, yes, sorry, Healer, er, good afternoon, I am Jenks."

He had a very strong accent, and his pronunciation was quite different from Freya's. When she dismounted and broke contact, I could barely follow their conversation. They walked slowly towards the cabin, and I trailed lazily a few steps behind until we passed a large patch of sorrel. It reminded me of the missed lunch and the empty saddlebag. I sat down and munched. There was another one nearby. The sheep relaxed and started grazing too, now thinking of me as one of their own.

A little later Freya and Jenks came out with a brush. It was a sheep brush. Jenks showed Freya how to use it and then she brushed me while they talked. Eventually, the pine needles and twigs were gone, along with a few fur bushels stuck together by sap. Apart from those, it was very relaxing and I dozed off, not bothering to follow her conversation. Freya slapped me on the backside when she was done. I thanked her, but she was already on her way back inside the hut with Jenks, taking our last bottle of wine with her.