Wind passes me, warm on my skin. The air smells like hot oranges and tangerines, it smells awful. I can’t help the smile that spreads across my face, “This smells absolutely terrible.”

The sound of cracking breaches the peacefulness of the moment, drawing my attention. I turn my head, eyeing- what I can only describe as- an imp standing there. It’s round with big eyes and sharp teeth. Large, bat like ears rest atop its head. Little wings on its back flapped uselessly, or perhaps acted as a fan against the heat.

Its nose twitches, something I did not notice it had until now, and sniffs. I knew it was smelling my intent. I stare back, unable to decide what to do. My memories conflict, telling me to run, eat, and subjugate the little beast. Not all were possible.

It tilted its head, curiosity in its eyes, but it didn’t take a step closer. I was as passive as the tides in this moment, but without the surety of repetition, there was no saying what I’d do.

“Hello.” Let’s take the hidden befriend route.

It startles, eyes going wide before its gaze falls to the floor. The ground appears to be covered in leaves and sticks, seemingly dry. Tall trees reach above our heads, brushing the sky with leaves of fiery red. The sky itself is purple, stuck in a twilight state.

“Hello.” Try again.

It’s skinny arms point to itself, “Me?”

“Yes.”

It speaks after a moment, almost as if it was searching for words, “Hello.”

“Hi.”

“Hi.” Oh my, this is annoying. I can feel something on my face twitching. I move my hand to touch it, the feeling of my face is smooth. After examining my hand, I notice the maroon, no it’s more of a ruby, of my hand is the same color as the imp in front of me.

“Hurt?” It asks.

“No.” I stretch my fingers, there’s four of them. It feels both right and wrong. Some parts of me think I should have five, another six, some four, and one part says it should be hooves. I stare at my hands some more, making fists and releasing them.

“Okay?”

“Fine.” By this point I can see the imp is becoming anxious. The smooth ridges of its eyebrows are drawn together, creating creases between them. I nod at it, “Happy.”

“Happy?”

“Yes.”

“What?” It tilts its head again, seemingly at a loss for the word it doesn’t understand.

“Like joy, euphoria, or elation.”

It agains startles, up until now we’ve been having a one word conversation and it seems the imp is having a hard time processing the words together. “Happy.” It nods.

“Do you understand what it means?”

“No.”

I sigh, my memories tell me that imps have low intelligence. I eye the figure before me. “Would you like to be friends?”

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“Friends?”

And now I know what the figure was talking about, this is anger inducing. I would have killed me if I was in the figure’s shoes. “We will walk together, talk together. We will hunt and forage together. We will defend each other and attack enemies together. We will live for each other.” It seems a little strong for just being friends, but given the amount of smarts I’m working with, this seems like a good choice of words.

“Okay.”

I feel a breath of air escape me and smile on my face, I didn’t realize how afraid I was it would say no. “Fantastic. What’s your name?”

“Name?”

“Yes, everything living has a name.”

“No name.”

Staring at the imp, my memories supply me my answer. Imps are treated as the cattle of the demon world, if you had a million pigs, you wouldn’t name them all. You’d name the ones that showed strength, charisma, and leadership. You’d name the ones you could pick out in a group. I nod, understanding, “I’m Setia.”

The imp looks back at me, puzzlement written all over its face. “Setia?”

“Yes, that is what you’ll call me. When you want my attention or want to talk to me you will use Setia to refer to me.”

“Understand.”

“Now what to call you?” I tap my chin with a finger.

“Me?”

“Yes.”

“Hello.”

“No! We’re not doing this again.” The imp jumps at my outburst, taking a step backwards. “Wait, I’m sorry. We’re friends remember, this means we stick by each other, so don’t leave.”

It nods slowly, caution never leaving its body. It looks ready to bolt. “Are you a male or a female? Oh wait, that’s a stupid question, demons don’t have sexes.” I nod to myself, happy that I recalled that now rather than later. “I’ll name you… Delilah.”

“Delilah.”

“Yes, when I want to talk to you or I need you, I will call for you with Delilah, that is your name.”

“Understand.”

I grin, friend get! Delilah comes closer, standing by my side. It doesn’t look distressed or pleased, rather impassive actually. It looks around at the blood trees towering over us.

My smile soon falls when Delilah starts to become restless. It looks around, nose twitching, bat like ears revolving around. It stills, then leans down and whispers, “Hide.”

“What’s happenin-” I’m cut off by Dela shoving me out of the small clearing we were in and into the foliage. The imp beside me covers my mouth, motioning for me to be quiet.

A creature twice the size of us lumbers from the trees where Dela first appeared. It looks like a dog, or rather a wolf, it had the viciousness of the wild in its eyes. It had deep black fur and occasionally sparkled with red if the light hit it just right. It was rather pretty but it’s slow. Its pace agonizingly slow, trotting around as if lost in thought. I want to pet it but at the same time I want to run, this mixture of fear and anticipation is annoying.

Delilah looks anxious, scanning the area around the wolf, as if there was something scarier than the drooling beast.

Suddenly the wolf stops, it’s nose twitching in a familiar fashion. It smells something! Just as a growl begins to reverberate in its throat, Delilah jumps from the bush, a rock in hand, and smashing it over the head. The surprise attack causes the hellhound to react too slow to dodge, taking the blow in full force, but the attack coming from a small fry isn’t enough to do more than stun it.

The wolf shakes its confusion off, snarling at Delilah. Dela does the same, showing off their own pearly whites. The impromptu weapon in the hands of the imp makes their attack more deadly than the wolf would like, so it keeps its distance instead of charging in. One wrong move and the wolf would die.

This cautionary stance doesn’t seem to be something Dela is interested in copying as it goes right for the kill, stone in hand and teeth ready to chomp. With a full frontal attack, Dela only manages to nick the beast.

The wolf rears its head, lunging a bite at Dela before the imp has a chance to fix their posture. Something in me tells me to run, run from Delilah and the wolf and the battle raging between the two. But my own words come back to bite me, I said friends fought together, protected each other, I couldn’t abandon Dela now.

I dug around for a suitable rock without taking my eyes off the fight in front of me. Delilah is losing, being pushed back by the wolf’s constant attacks and quick movements. I eye for the opportunity to join, when my attack would do the most damage. Seconds drag on, every chance seems worse than the previous. Delilah is bleeding in several places but I still can’t seem to find the perfect moment.

The wolf charges at Dela, mouth open and poised at the imp’s throat. It’s now or never!