Wordlessly, they made their way forward. Besides the chilling rumbles of thunder from the sky and the ocassional creak of branches, the forest was deathly silent. Even Jun's footsteps sounded like nothing more than the distant memory of an "accident" at the engineering bay, while the buzzing of her own wings almost dissapeared in the yawning emptiness. Altogether, the first time Jun cracked a branch (merely by stepping on it!) Sachiko let out a very undignified "eep!". After that, she had been left to contemplate what absurd number of tonnes he must have weighed to make such a noise.

It was just after she had stopped nervously eyeing Jun, and some hundred kilometers into their journey, that they both heard a queer growling. Queer was the only way Sachiko could put the hissing, squealing quality that accented the baritone she had come to associate with monster movies. "Please tell me that was you," she shout-whispered, voice raised only for the sake of the fact hovering beside him meant she was a half-dozen meters from his ear.

"No," he breathed, stilling.

A snap. Wrapped in shadows so that only the barest details could be made out was something. The skin was hairless, but not like a human's. Amphibious? There were regular pits lining what could only be its legs, of which there were at least four. Beady eyes gleamed in the overcast from a bulbous protrusion to its fore.

"At least tell me that's from your world," Sachiko risked. Ill-risked, for as soon as she had asked, the creature skittered forward. In mere moments, it had crossed the distance, revealing itself to be roughly waist-high to Jun as it leapt towards his mid-section.

It seemed that luck was on their side; Jun was quick to step out of the way - although in his panic, he came close to tripping. "It's not from yours?!" he asked, no small fear in his voice as the creature kept stride in rounding on him once again.

"Shit, shit, shit," Sachiko whispered to herself. What the hell was she supposed to do? Half Jun's height or not, it made little difference when the thing could rival buildings. She glanced around, searching for inspiration in the same-ish mess of barren trees as she tried to block out the sounds of the scuffle. There! A branch, something that would be far too large for her to lift, would serve as an excellent weapon for a giant. Being roughly the size of a support rig from her bay, she was certain it would suffice.

Darting over to the branch, she was quick to call out to him: "Jun!" she yelled, "Use this!". Seeing him, Sachiko watched as he was able to kick the monster, sending it sprawling away but not without gouging holes in the stiff material of his dress shoes where it met the claw-lined cavities evenly spaced along the monster's legs.

Without wasting a moment, Jun rushed over, and to Sachiko it was not unlike a building collapsing or a spaceship landing as he swept up the branch and turned to face the creature.

Scared witless, Sachiko could only scream "kill it, kill it, kill it!" from behind Jun as the creature rushed towards them once again.

Crack. For a terrifying moment, she thought it had been the branch that broke, that she had failed them both by just going with the first thing she found. But when she peeked from behind Jun, the sight that met her was one of relief. Like a spoon dipped in mash, the creature's skull had conformed around the branch, drenching it and part of Jun's shirt a distinct blue colour. Even now, Sachiko could see the beak —previously hidden below the bulbous protrusion— clicking open and shut.

"Holy shit." Neither knew nor cared who said it.

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The rest of the trek had gone thankfully undisturbed. When they reached the cliff edge, Sachiko felt just about ready to collapse. Never before had she spent so long flying, and never before had she felt this much stress in a single day. Even with steady access to 'solution that her heat suit offered, the limiting factor was nothing more than her own strength. Soon enough, Sachiko's wing-rythm began to slip — leaving her to slowly bob in the cyclical attempt to maintain altitude.

Jun was silent a moment. He considered the cliff edge —of which they had found themselves at the top of— and the darkening sky. "Do you want me to carry you?" he asked, quietly, and without eye contact.

Yes. "No," she replied. Her wings were burning, but the mere thought of being carried sent stabs of primal fear through her. She would, quite literally, be in the palm of his hand if he did so.

Jun gave her a moment before nodding. "Alright." Without another word, he walked up and past Sachiko —right— to go along the cliff edge.

This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

With each wingbeat, Sachiko could feel the burning, enfeebling sensation creep in. With every footstep of his, she asked herself why she shouldn't just stop flying. It's not like falling would hurt all that much, and she could still walk! Sachiko's eyelids drooped.

When Jun felt a mass settle on his head, he about nearly jumped. It wasn't until he noticed that it was warm, that it was sprawled out and not moving much, that he realized it was Sachiko. The temptation to shake his head was dire, but for once he abstained. Faintly, he could hear Sachiko mumble "changed my mind."

He chuffed and, keeping his head as steady as he could, continued onwards. "Y'know," she said, voice almost inaudible, "I realized I could've gone with a hollow."

"A hollow?" he asked, with no small amount of curiousity.

"Apparently, people did it back then. Lived in hollows before they carved trees."

"I don't think I'd fit."

Sachiko gave a airy laugh. "No, guess you wouldn't."

They continued on in silence.

"Hey Jun?"

"Yeah?"

"Promise not to go crazy on me again?"

He wanted to laugh. He was as mild mannered as they come - the type to avoid conflict. Even women, if that meant all the trouble they came with. But that would be wrong, wouldn't it? Sachiko was afraid of him. That much he could see. She deserved a proper response. "Sure."

It seemed that was enough, and for the rest of the walk, they enjoyed a companionable silence. Weird not-human thing she may be, Jun found the feeling of someone else closeby to be comforting — especially so when lost in some crazy alien woods. Who-knows-how-many hours later, Jun had found where the cliff slumped into the forest below and carefully made his way down. He'd been tempted to reach up and grab her, to keep her more secure as he stooped into the incline, but her choice of resting place struck him as meaningful. Instead, he did his best to keep steady. If this was enough to wake Sachiko, he didn't know.

More time. More walking. By this point, his legs were growing sore — not to mention his feet. He could tell it was getting darker, colder. What this meant eluded him, given he knew it to already be night. Sachiko's body had cooled considerably since she landed, although it was hard to tell through his hair. He hoped it was her normal body temperature, or that whatever strange spacesuit she was wearing made it seem that way. He didn't know. She was as alien as she was human.

He almost missed it, so caught up in his recollection of the day. A cave, a yawning maw of darkness stretching into the cliff, impenetrable to his ordinary senses. He stared at the enterance with apprehension, at loss for what to do. Sure, a cave was shelter, but he had never stopped to consider what might be living inside one, or whether this was even Sachiko's intent at all. Maybe he'd be better off constructing a lean-to with his nonexistant knowledge. He snorted, yeah, right. City living was in his blood. He'd probably make a fire by accident sooner than anything resembling shelter.

Fishing around in his pocket, he withdrew his trusty smartphone. An older model, but equipped with a flashlight nonetheless. Swiping it on, he watched as the "cave" was revealed to be little more than a depression in the side of the cliff — barely deep enough for him to fit.

"Hey, we made it," he whispered, looking towards his brow as if he could somehow see the top of his own head. There was a movement, and he could feel Sachiko displace locks of hair from their rightful resting place. Absently, he guessed at what she might look like then — what minute pressures and strains corresponded to which limbs and angles as she presumably sprawled out like some Gaga-esq hat.

"So we did," he heard, "Good job," she said. And, well, he knew that she meant it — warm as her words were.

Jun ducked into the alcove and shuffled into a rough sitting position, wincing a little as Sachiko's grip pulled at his roots. He realised he was without a blanket (or any camping equipment for that matter) and looked askance at his shoulder bag.

"You don't have to sleep there if you don't want to," he offered.

"I'm good." Shrugging, Jun brought it into his lap, curling around it to conserve heat. It was still cold, but a bearable kind of cold.

"Hey," he heard Sachiko pipe up, melancholy in her voice. "Do isekai people ever make it back?"

His heart clenched. "I thought you didn't know what isekai meant."

"I could figure it out. Stories, right? About going to other worlds. Isekai."

"Yeah..."

"So, do they?"

"Sometimes. It's… not always because they can't. Sometimes they don't want to."

He could feel her shaking her head. "Why would anyone want to stay in a world with giants?" A beat. "Er, present company excluded."

Jun wanted to laugh. "Not everyone's six inches tall. Don't you have animals on your Earth?"

"Killed most 'em." He could feel her propping her elbows on his head, pressing something decidedly soft just behind them. He tried not to dwell on that thought.

"That's kind of sad."

A shrug? It was hard to tell. "Maybe? Before today, I'd never seen an animal. Not in person. Not sure I'd miss it."

"Mars, right?" Jun could feel himself drifting, even as he hung onto her every word. He'd never imagine he'd be the first person to talk to an alien, to learn about the world through a completely different perspective.

"Yeah, 'grew up there…" Jun slipped into unconciousness.