Again, not a single soul on the road until I reach the outskirts, and even then it’s only one or two.

We didn’t set a meeting place the night before - how the hell would we have worked that one out anyway - so I’m grateful to find the beastgirl sat on the fence overlooking the waterfall and terraced fields.

It’s a pretty open spot in the middle of the village, buildings only on the inside curve, so it makes sense to wait around there if you’re uncertain on where to find someone. After all, you can’t travel through one way or the other without passing by.

She seems lost in the view as I approach.

I kinda expected her to pick up my scent on the breeze, as it lightly rolled down the mountain road behind me. I’m down wind, so it should have carried the smell ahead of me. Though I suppose from being caked in several days of stink and muck yesterday, and now being as fresh as a daisy, she mustn’t have memorized my natural odour yet.

That or, in this world, being a beastperson doesn’t automatically mean you have heightened scenes, or it could only be for species specific, or it might even just be a cosmetic thing.

Actually, maybe beastpeople are considered disfigured or something?

Like they’ve been cursed or are a bad omen or some other superstitious nonsense. That’d explain why there’s so many different types of them in the village, but no humans.

By the time I’m a couple of feet from the beastgirl, my thoughts wrap themselves up and she finally notices me.

She turns her profile toward me - chin in hand, elbow on knee, legs propped on top of each other - as she’s perched on the fence.

I get a wry, almost weary, smile as she spins on the post and launches into the air, landing with an awkward pose.

Guess heroic stances are inter-dimensional.

Already a meter or so ahead of me, before I even notice let alone turn round, she starts walking back out of town the way I’d come.

Confused, I jog the few steps to catch. She turns her head away.

Is she sulking?

Did I make her wait to long or something?

The addition of a sound similar to a “Humph!” confirms my suspicions, and she keeps walking.

Is she trying to leave already?

We haven’t gotten provisions or settled on a plan yet. Though, it might be less obvious if we flee right now, I don’t see the orc, beastman, or goblin anywhere, but we won’t get far.

Guess we could scout out the surrounding area a little. Maybe I can divert her over the river where it’s narrower, or up one of the other side roads before the turning for the house.

It’s not that I’m against her knowing my base of operations. It’s just that I don’t want anyone coming looking for us before we’re ready to leave, delaying the start to our journey, or potentially punishing us in some way.

I swerve around her from behind and try to catch her attention from the left.

Petulantly, she turns her face to the right, and keeps on walking. Arms up over her shoulders like she’s taking the most carefree stroll of her life.

What is going on here?

I get a step in front of her, she veers around me.

I back peddle and put an arm out to bar the way, she ducks under.

I swing back round to her other side, she turns away again.

Frustrated, and not used to people acting this way, I grab one of her arms and stop her from walking any further.

She shoots me a look over her shoulder.

I do not understand the significance of what she’s trying to communicate at all, though I get there’s something in the intensity and glassiness of her gaze.

Question? Resigned? Pleading?

Letting go of her arm, I apologize for being rough, raising my hands in front of me as a sign of atonement. You’re not meant to grab people, but in the heat of the moment, reason doesn’t always win out.

Her eye does not waver from my face for a second.

It’s like she’s trying to read me.

“Ok, ok… seriously, I’m sorry.” Waving my hands and bowing slightly to really emphasise how remorseful I am.

She sighs and looks down a little.

I take the opportunity to circle around slowly, so I’m not talking to her bac-

…

I’m an idiot.

The whole right side of a face is swollen.

My heart leaps.

It’s like a cartoon. Like she’s been stung by a swarm of bees, or is having a major allergic reaction, but its concentrated to one area.

It hits me that she was trying to hide it and keep me on her good side. Trying to work out how I’d react in advance…

Did she think I’d abandon her? That I’d think she’s weak for being beaten? Do I really come across like that?

Maybe. We don’t really know each other… but maybe she’s just overly cautious. Worried about the uncertainty. Worried that I might be just as bad as the orc and beastman. That I might be just another source of pain to her.

Not the companion and potential escape she had hoped for.

Overcome with anger, pity, hate, concern - a whole tidal wave of muddled up emotions - I take the beastgirl’s hand.

Looking her dead in the eyes, I nod my head toward the stream, and walk us over to its banks. We’re obscured from the road by a short bluff and a few scattered trees.

Once out of sight, crouching down to make sure, I pull open my bundle.

At first I can’t get her to look.

She’s still trying to keep her head turned, eyes cast every which way but at me, or where I’m trying to indicate she look.

Annoyance rises in me again.

I’m trying to suggest a solution here. I need you to work with me and see whether it’s something that might work. Stop avoiding me.

I can feel myself getting wound up more and more, but I notice that the beast girl is too.

I drop the bundle back to my side, sit down in a more stable position, and tentatively put an arm round her shoulders. A hug helped her yesterday.

She shrugs me off and remains squatting, legs almost hugged to her chest, face just about buried in her knees.

The atmosphere is tense, but it’s also annoying.

Out of frustration, I want to shout at her, but I know that wont help anything really.

As I seethe silently, I remember my Mom telling me that some people need a moment before they can get back on task. Just sit with them while they work through their emotions and be patient, even if it bothers you. A good friend will appreciate your being considerate, even if you just want to fix things right away.

It really is irritating though.

This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

I’m anxious and excited to get on with things. I want to sort our plan and set it in motion.

The sooner the better… for both of us.

It takes a little while for the beastgirl to calm down.

I don’t try to hug her again, being rejected when you’re trying to help stings too much.

While waiting, I take to finding tiny stones, balancing as many as possible onto the ridge made by my crossed legs, and machine gunning them off into the stream.

Flick, flick, flick, flick, flick, flick, flick…

Splish, splish, splish, splish, splish…

Giggle…

I turn to see the beastgirl loading a volley of her own, sending the pebbles flying off her knees one at a time like a sniper.

She lines up the shots, one eye closed, and catches the stones with her nail, resulting in an audible crack each time.

God she’s lethal!

Way more accurate than my scatter shots.

I decide to play the fool and wait until she’s preparing her next set of rounds.

Moving myself just a little on the spot so I can spring forward at the right moment.

She takes her time picking a new target.

Crack.

I dive in front of her and take the hit.

It stings like a sunuva… giving off a thud as it hits my chest, muffled only slightly by my top.

Dropping onto my side a little away from her feet, I play dead, awaiting the applause for my award winning performance.

After a moment’s silence for the fallen - me - and still nothing, I crack an eyelid.

Oh no.

The beastgirl’s shoulders are shaking, she’s trying to stifle her laughter… so she can line up her next shot!

I can just see the tip of her manic grin cresting the knee in front.

It feels like our eyes meet as she closes one to take aim.

Time to take it like a man.

CRACK!

I remain limp. Playing the corpse.

Crack, crack, crack.

I deserve this for being insensitive earlier.

…

IS SHE SERIOUSLY RELOADING?!.

I do not deserve another barrage.

I open my eye again to see her looking around for more stones to place on her knees, so I roll over and grasp out at her, groaning like a zombie.

She jumps at first, but leans into the charade and pretends to swoon against the embankment, nowhere to run from the encroaching horror.

The fake protestations in the face of death, and my undead sound effects, quickly give way to chuckling from both of us…

…

How did I end up like this?

I freeze on the spot, realizing I’ve inadvertently propped myself up above her like I’m trying to make a move.

She’s still laughing and hasn’t noticed yet, eyelids scrunched up, tears forming. It makes her nose and eyebrows crinkle.

It’s odd to suddenly become acutely aware of someone. How they move and take up space. How your brain will make comparisons to other things to embed the information deeper, create more neural links.

Like how the beastgirl’s hair is only slightly glossy, and a little matte like charcoal. She’s pretty tall too, only a little shorter than I am, and I’d say I’m above average. Long limbs making her look taller still. Her shoulders are kinda broad, but it makes sense she’d be strong from living out in the country. Though still lean and…

I quickly realise I’m paying too much attention to her features, and the movement of her body under me is weirdly…

I throw myself down beside her and roll on my back.

No more of that train of thought.

I totally didn't start aching in my chest. I would never have gone in for a kiss. Nothing sus going on here. This isn’t some romcom harem manga or whatever after all.

Letting out a fake little laugh to try and cover my nerves, I lie back and look up into the sky. Involuntarily letting out a sigh.

The beast girl recovers and sits up.

She wipes the tears of laughter from her eyes and points at my bundle.

I sit up too, pull the bundle over, and unwrap our starter equipment.

Honestly, after that performance, I think she’d be better suited with a sling or bow, but I haven’t seen anything like that across the entire town so far.

The last of her laughter putters out.

She swallows on what sounds like a pretty dry throat.

I pick up with hatchet and small knife, making a little show of their weight, comparing their sizes and stuff.

Having no idea how to communicate any of my ideas around them, I look around for any sticks, find a smallish branch sticking out of the riverbank, and pull it out of the sediment.

I chop the branch with a few blows from the hand axe, and waft my hands over it like I’ve done a magic trick, or am presenting a wonderful prize on a bad daytime TV show.

The beastgirl’s face reflects her understanding and obvious relief.

Did she think I was going to attack her? She’s my companion! Really gonna have to work on her confidence in me.

I put down the hatchet and hand her the knife.

She takes it, a little confused, then points at the branch, making questioning noises.

I look between the gestures she’s making and the driftwood, then realise she thinks I want her to try and cut it with the knife too.

I shake my head while giving a reassuring smile.

I mime shanking and cutting throats.

How else am I meant to get across it’s for self defence on our adventure?

She blinks at me, astonished.

Slowing making stabbing motions of her own, still dumbfounded.

She drops the knife with a start and waves her palms at me, shying away from where it landed.

I try to reassure her that I haven’t killed anyone… like that’s not what a murderer trying to calm their next victim would do. Fumbling some pantomimed stabs, pointing to myself, shaking my head, crossing my arms - god this is exhausting - while pouting and frowning all the while.

After a bit of back and forth, flexing on the spot improv acting that could land me a leading Hollywood role, I seem to have the beastgirl on side.

Do I seriously come across like I have that kind of experience?