The swirling vortex of white thinned and calmed. The forest, Bleakfyre Forest, came back into view through the mist. Slimantha still stood in said forest, lush green grass beneath her. Ashkov and Black stood in the misty forest as well. The place, though, seemed surprisingly lacking in terms of Samuel. Had he not been here just a moment ago? Slimantha glanced about yet found no hint of Samuel the Hero From Another World. Had he gone to another world perhaps? Slimantha brought her right hand to her chin. Her brown eyes then caught the amber eyes of a certain elf—caught the eyes of Ashkov the Timeless. Slimantha lowered her right hand.

How? Ashkov stared at Slimantha. How was Slimantha … The tall blonde elf blinked. At her sides, her twintails shifted. Her eyes drifted down from Slimantha’s face and over the rest of the slime summoner’s body. How was Slimantha still here? How? Her gaze pivoted away from the enigma. Her head turned to Black.

“One moment please,” Ashkov said to the cat woman. Then the elf’s attention went back to Slimantha. Ashkov raised her right hand in front of herself. She snapped. The mist thickened and swirled.

Once more, Slimantha stared into a swirling mass of white. She pouted. Why so much white? The long brown locks of her hair whipped in the swirling current. Should she punch it? Should she punch the mist? She blinked. Or maybe … She extended her right pointer finger upward in front of her face. The white of the swirling mist did somewhat obscure her finger from her. However, she could still, in fact, make out her finger. A tiny blob of blue—a tiny slime—appeared at the tip of her finger. Maybe she should try throwing a slime at the mist. Then again … The tiny blue slime melted away. She lowered her right hand. Punching is good. Why not just punch? She drew her right hand back and smiled. The mist, though, seemed a little too cooperative, thinning and calming before she actually got to the punching part. She sighed, bringing her right hand back to her side. A cute little pout showed on her face.

“How?” Ashkov’s voice broke the silence. The tall porcelain-skinned elf’s eyes were fixed upon Slimantha. “How can you still be here?”

“How can I still be here?” Slimantha blinked. “Why wouldn’t I still be here?” Her brown eyes met with Ashkov’s amber eyes. “Unless”—her right hand went to her chin—“what if, like”—she lowered her right hand—“I’m not really here? What if we just think I’m here? What if I’m actually asleep in some kind of pod or something.”

“Or maybe,” Ashkov deadpanned, “you’re strong enough to resist the mist’s translocation effect.”

“Translocation effect?” Black said, her attention now firmly focused upon Ashkov. “You’re manipulating the mist, aren’t you?” She leaned toward Ashkov and narrowed her eyes. “Bring them back now.” Her black feline tail displayed an angry swish behind her. Her black witch hat still lay upon the forest floor.

Ashkov shrugged. “Well, I suppose I could be manipulating the mist, but”—she flashed Black a smile—“maybe you should be asking yourself the more important questions.” Ashkov let her long blonde hair down from her twintails. She tossed the two pink ribbons that had been holding her hair up aside. Her hands then went to her green long-sleeved shirt. She pulled said shirt off.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

Black’s feline tail twitched. Her cheeks flushed. “Why are you suddenly taking your clothes off?!” The cat woman, who had short black hair, averted her gaze from the elf. Her brown eyes went to her fallen witch hat, which still lay upon the forest floor. She picked the black hat up and returned it to its place atop her head.

“Well, I suppose I’d rather not get my clothes wet,” Ashkov said, a little giggle slipping out from between her lips afterward. She removed the pink strap from about her waist and tossed it aside. Then she kicked her shoes off before proceeding to pull down and remove her leggings. Soon, the only articles of clothing remaining on her were just her pink bra and matching panties. Her hands went to her back to work on removing her bra.

Black’s gaze returned to the mostly disrobed elf. “What did you mean by the more important questions?”

Ashkov tossed her bra aside and slipped out of her panties. Then she tossed her panties aside too. She glanced at Black and smiled before stepping into the pond. The cool water caressed her as she sunk deeper into the pond. Soon, only her head poked up from the cool body of water. She turned to face Black. Finally, she said, “What do you feel for Samuel?”

“Samuel?” Black blinked. Her tail swished. “That’s the question? We are just friends.”

“So”—Ashkov smiled—“you wouldn’t mind me having Samuel then?”

“Y-You?!” Black’s eyes widened. “H-Having Samuel?!” Her tail twitched, and she glanced away from the elf in the pond. Her tail twitched again. A soft pink colored her cheeks. Her eyes—her brown eyes—turned back to Ashkov. “Why Samuel? I mean it is not like he is all that strong or anything.” The petite short-haired witch pressed her pointer fingers together, her black feline tail twitching behind her.

Ashkov giggled. Her right hand came up out of the water to conceal her lips. Water dripped down from her porcelain fingers. Then her right hand submerged back into the pond. “That is nothing an occasional partaking of my divine nectar can’t fix.” She smiled. “If he needs strength, I can give him strength.”

“Wait,” Slimantha said, interrupting the conversation between Black and Ashkov. The elf’s head turned to the slime summoner. “You have divine nectar? That’s that thick sweet amber stuff that bestows strength to those who drink it, right?”

“That’s correct.” Ashkov gave Slimantha a smile. “I have divine nectar in my flask. I find it quite delicious.” She smiled again. “My strength is my own though. However”—Ashkov’s gaze shifted back to Black—“I wonder how much effect consuming it had on Samuel. Did it make him strong? Do you think it made him into a fitting lover for me?” She smiled as Black’s face paled. “Why do you care so much anyway? Are you not just friends with him?”

“I-I am just friends with him.” Black’s words came out in sputters now. “I-It’s just … I-It’s just … I-I just don’t think he’s into you.”

“Oh?” Ashkov gave Black another smile. “Well”—the elf in the pond shrugged—“can’t do much if he’s not into me, but …” Her eyes went back to the face of the flustered cat woman. “What about that mimic and that plant woman? What if Samuel gets with one of them?”

Black’s hat fell from atop her head. It toppled down to the soft grass below. Black’s feline ears and tail both displayed a flustered twitch. Her lips parted but no words came out. She froze. Rose and Mitsy did both blatantly have a thing for Samuel. What if he did pair off with one of them?

“Well,” Ashkov said, snapping Black out of her stupor, “what do I know? I’m just an elven tart in a pond.” The elf then dropped down, vanishing beneath the surface of the pond’s water. The mist swirled.