The late morning sun beat down mercilessly as Thristle trudged along the dusty road, her new boots already collecting an impressive coating of dirt. Behind them, the slime followed in a peculiar rolling motion, leaving a faintly glistening trail that thankfully seemed to evaporate in the heat.

Thristle stumbled over a loose stone, though the boots caught her step perfectly. She frowned down at them, still surprised by how well they fit.

"These boots are amazing, actually. It's like they were made for me! Lucky find in the manor's storage, I guess."

Seraphina's cheeks colored slightly, but Thristle was too busy examining her footwear to notice.

"I still don't understand why we couldn't take a wagon," she grumbled, adjusting her pack for the hundredth time. "Or a carriage. Lord Blackbriar has, what, three? Four? Surely he could spare one for his special mission." She pitched her voice in an exaggerated imitation of the nobleman's pompous tone.

Seraphina walked beside her, looking impossibly proper in her crisp maid's uniform despite the dust and heat. The long bundle wrapped in dark canvas on her back shifted slightly as she turned. "A carriage," she replied with practiced patience, "would draw exactly the kind of attention we're trying to avoid." Her satchel swung gently at her hip as she maintained her brisk pace. "Besides, how exactly would you propose we transport your... companion?"

The slime, as if recognizing it was the subject of discussion, burbled cheerfully and attempted to engulf a nearby flowering bush.

"We could have put it in a barrel," Thristle suggested, wiping sweat from her brow. "Or a really big jar. Or—"

"And when your 'companion' inevitably dissolves through whatever container we put it in?" Seraphina arched an eyebrow. "Lord Blackbriar's carriages cost more than most houses in the village. Would you like to add that to your debt as well? I believe the last time his lordship had one commissioned, it cost..." She named a sum that made Thristle stumble again, this time not from loose stones.

"Right," Thristle muttered, suddenly finding walking much more appealing. "Walking is good. Healthy, even. And the fresh air is... refreshing." She glanced back at the slime, which was contentedly rolling along.

"Though I still don't get why I need to look like a scholar. Blackbriar barely seemed to care what I wore." She caught up to walk beside her, studying Seraphina's immaculate uniform. "You're still in your maid's outfit. Won't that draw attention?"

"A lady's maid traveling with a young gentleman is hardly remarkable," Seraphina replied, though something flickered in her eyes. "Besides, proper service staff are expected to maintain standards, even on the road."

The slime chose that moment to make another attempt at the roadside vegetation, prompting Thristle to perform an ungraceful skip maneuver to intercept it.

"Though maybe," Seraphina said after a moment of watching the slime's antics, "we should give it a proper name. Calling it 'the slime' or 'creature' seems rather... impersonal, given that it's now our traveling companion."

"Stop personificating it," Thristle protested, though her hand absently reached for the honey dipper as the slime perked up at the suggestion. "It's an accident that happened to work out in our favor. Mostly." She paused. "Though I suppose 'Blob' would be fitting—"

The slime's reaction was immediate and decidedly unimpressed. A gelatinous tendril whipped out, catching Thristle square across the back of her head with a resounding splat. She yelped, stumbling forward and nearly losing her balance.

"Vexing little thing, isn't it?" Seraphina mused, tapping her chin thoughtfully. "Perhaps something like... Vexar? No... Vexil?" She watched as the slime's surface rippled with interest. "What about Vesper?"

The slime's color brightened noticeably, its surface dancing with iridescent patterns.

"I think we have a winner," Seraphina said with satisfaction. "Though speaking of vexing things, you never did explain exactly what happened with that garden shed you destroyed. Gregory was quite beside himself."

Thristle's cheeks flushed crimson. "That wasn't entirely my fault! Gregory really shouldn't have been making moonshine on estate grounds in the first place. And who keeps that many volatile ingredients in a wooden shed anyway?"

"Ah," Seraphina's eyebrows shot up. "So that's what he was up to."

"Well, everything was going fine until I... we tried to distill it." Thristle's voice trailed off as she remembered the spectacular explosion that had turned the shed into splinters. She scuffed her boot against the dusty road.

The newly-named Vesper, apparently deciding this conversation was more interesting than dissolving roadside vegetation, had stopped its forward motion to watch them. Its surface rippled in a way that looked suspiciously like laughter.

"Oh, you think that's funny, do you?" Thristle glared at the creature. "At least I didn't eat his lordship's prize roses."

Vesper's surface darkened slightly, and it formed what could only be described as a sulky bubble.

"You know," Seraphina mused, watching their interaction, "for something that supposedly isn't a pet, he certainly seems to understand you rather well."

"Understanding me and having a name are two different things," Thristle grumbled, though she was already reaching for another honey-soaked treat. She glanced sidelong at Vesper, who was now contentedly absorbing the snack. "Even if it does seem... oddly fitting."

---

The first warning was a faint buzzing on the wind.

Thristle might have missed it entirely if Vesper hadn't suddenly gone rigid beside her, its translucent surface freezing mid-ripple like a pond in winter. The morning's leisurely pace evaporated as the slime's form shifted from languid contentment to predatory focus, tiny waves racing across its surface in a mesmerizing pattern.

"Vesper?" Thristle's hand instinctively moved toward her dwindling supply of honey treats, but the slime was already in motion. It shot forward in a blur of electric blue, stretching and undulating with alarming speed down the sun-baked road.

"Vesper, no!" Thristle shouted, but the slime was already charging ahead, its form stretching and undulating with alarming speed. Around the bend came the sound of horses whinnying in panic, followed by shouts and the distinct clatter of something wooden hitting the ground.

They ran after it, rounding the corner just in time to see Vesper ricochet off a cartwheel, sending a stack of crates tumbling. The horses reared, their driver struggling to maintain control as vegetables scattered across the road. Without pausing, Vesper surged forward, weaving in front of the panicked horses' legs.

"Sorry!" Thristle called, chasing after the slime as it darted into a nearby field. Her new boots slipped on the damp grass as she followed its erratic path. "Vesper! Get back here!"

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The slime ignored her completely, making a beeline for the tree line. Vesper stretched halfway up a tree, enthusiastically engulfing a bee hive.

"Oh no," Thristle groaned. "No, no, no!"

By the time Seraphina caught up, Thristle was already halfway up the tree, honey dipper clenched between her teeth.

"There are easier ways to—" Seraphina began.

"Got any better ideas?" Thristle called down, reaching for the next branch. "Because our 'companion' seems quite determined to— ow!" She swatted at a curious bee. "Vesper! Get down from there right now!"

The slime ignored her completely, making happy burbling sounds as it absorbed more of the hive. Angry bees began to swarm around both the slime and Thristle.

First, she tried tempting it with her last honey-soaked biscuit. Vesper formed a tiny tendril, snatched the treat, and continued its feast without pause.

"Fine," Thristle muttered, awkwardly balancing on a branch while digging through her jacket. "Let's try... dried fruit!" She waved the bag enticingly. Vesper didn't even acknowledge her.

A bee stung her hand. She yelped and instinctively jerked backward. The sudden movement sent her off-balance, and then she was falling, surrounded by angry bees.

Vesper detached from the hive to catch her, and both of them tumbled to the ground in a spectacular splash of slime that somehow managed to cover Thristle from head to toe in a glistening ooze. At least the bees seemed less interested in her now.

She stood up slowly, dripping, and fixed Vesper with a glare that could have melted steel. "You," she said through gritted teeth, "are the most impossible, infuriating, inconvenient—"

Vesper's response was immediate and unexpected. It surged forward, completely enveloping Thristle in what could only be described as a gelatinous embrace. Before she could even yelp in protest, it contracted, taking all the residual slime with it and leaving her completely clean – if somewhat disheveled.

"That's... that's disgusting!" Thristle sputtered, shuddering violently. "Don't ever do that again!"

Vesper bobbed innocently, its surface rippling with what looked suspiciously like satisfaction. A few feet away, Seraphina made a sound that might have been a hastily disguised laugh.

"Not. One. Word." Thristle warned, pointing a finger at her companion.

"I wouldn't dream of it," Seraphina replied, though her eyes sparkled with barely contained amusement. "Though I must say, that was quite an efficient cleaning method."

Vesper burbled happily, forming a series of small bubbles that popped in sequence.

"Just... help me calm these horses," Thristle sighed, trying to maintain her dignity. "And you," she pointed at Vesper, "no more bee hives. Or I'll start calling you Blob."

Ominous crimson threads wove through its translucent slime's mass, but it obediently rolled back to their side of the road, leaving behind a very confused swarm of bees surveying their ruined home.

"At least we know what to avoid on our journey now," Seraphina said pragmatically as they helped the driver right his cart. "Bee hives, and..." she paused, eyeing Vesper thoughtfully, "any other sources of wild honey, I suppose."

"Don't give it ideas," Thristle muttered, but Vesper was already scanning the horizon with obvious interest.

--

The sun was setting by the time they reached the White Mare Inn, its weathered sign creaking in the evening breeze. The inn perched on the vast slope like a swallow's nest, its rear half burrowing into the hillside as it defied the sheer cliff faces towering above. Those endless walls of stone dominated everything, stretching as far as Thristle could see in either direction, their faces painted in dying golden light that reminded her of honey – though she quickly pushed that thought aside before Vesper got any ideas.

Thristle watched nervously as Vesper investigated its temporary accommodation – a carefully prepared pit lined with obsidian-black stones, positioned far enough from the inn to prevent any dissolving incidents but close enough for her to intervene if necessary. Similar stones dotted the surrounding fields, scattered across the landscape like fallen stars where generations of farmers had cleared them to plant crops in the rich, dark soil.

"At least Lord Blackbriar's people were thorough," she muttered, examining the neat earthwork. "Though I suppose after the garden incident, they weren't taking any chances."

From her precarious perch on a log – chosen specifically to keep an eye on both Vesper and the inn – Thristle could see how the terraced fields stepped down toward the distant center of their vast circular valley. The evening mist was already gathering in the lowest parts, turning distant farms and villages into shadow shapes that floated in a sea of pearl gray, like one of those fancy paintings in Blackbriar's study. Above it all, those titanic cliffs kept their endless watch, their layered faces telling a story of fire and stone to anyone who knew how to read it. Looking up at those walls now, tugging at her scholarly attire, she could almost imagine she was sitting on the rim of the largest bowl ever made – the thought alone made her hungry.

After their earlier bee hive adventure, they'd all agreed it would be wiser for Seraphina to visit the old beekeeper near the inn alone. "Better than risking Vesper dissolving the poor man's entire livelihood," as she'd put it before departing, leaving Thristle to wrangle their gelatinous companion.

Vesper seemed content enough in its new space, rolling around the edges of the pit and occasionally forming little pseudopods to test the stone lining. It had already dissolved one small rock but appeared satisfied with this single act of rebellion.

The sound of footsteps made Thristle look up. Seraphina emerged from the inn's direction, her usual composed expression tinged with relief and carrying a big jar of fresh honey.

"The beekeeper was quite generous, once I explained our... unique situation," she said, carefully keeping the jar out of Vesper's immediate reach. "Though I may have neglected to mention exactly what kind of 'pet' needed the honey."

"Smart thinking," Thristle commented. "Did you get everything else arranged?"

"Two rooms, first floor, and the innkeeper was remarkably incurious about why we needed a guard rotation for a pit in the woods." She glanced at Vesper. "Though I did have to promise an extra silver piece for discretion"

"Smart" Thristle commented, reaching for the honey pot. "Speaking of dissolving things – here's your evening treat, you troublemaker." She carefully measured out a portion for Vesper, who eagerly absorbed it. "Who'd they assign to watch duty?"

"Two of his lordship's men – they're already here, stationed in the treeline." Seraphina gestured vaguely toward the woods. "They'll rotate through the night. Apparently, they drew lots for the privilege."

"Lost the draw, you mean," Thristle snorted, but she was already standing, her stomach growling at the smell of cooking food wafting from the inn. "Will it be... safe? Leaving it here?"

As if understanding her concern, Vesper's surface rippled with what might have been indignation. It settled deeper into its pit, forming a perfect circle – almost like a puddle of still water, if water glowed faintly in the growing darkness.

"The pit is secure, the guards are capable, and most importantly," Seraphina added with a slight smile, "there are no bee hives within reach."

"Very funny," Thristle muttered, but she was already walking toward the inn, the promise of a hot meal and actual bed too tempting to resist.

"Behave yourself," she called back to Vesper. "No midnight adventures."

The slime's only response was a lazy ripple of its surface.

"You know," Seraphina observed as they approached the inn's warm light, "for someone who insisted on not 'personificating' it, you certainly talk to him a lot."

"It's not talking, it's... establishing boundaries," Thristle protested weakly. "Very important with monsters."

"Whatever helps you sleep at night," Seraphina said diplomatically, holding the inn's door open. "Though speaking of sleep, I suggest we get some while we can. Something tells me tomorrow's journey will be... interesting."

The warmth and smell of cooking food enveloped them as they stepped inside, leaving Vesper to its stone-lined bed and its watchful guardians. In the growing darkness, its faint blue glow pulsed gently.