Slowly, almost painfully, Autumn awoke. For a moment, she lay beneath the warmth of the blankets swaddling her, allowing the trappings of existence to wash over her. Her eyes stung, weighted down like lead. Pleasant dreams fled before the witch’s waking ire, leaving her with only the memories of Death.

With an irritated sigh, Autumn struggled to open her eyes, wincing at the effort. A dull throb of pain invaded her senses as her eyes adjusted to a dim light.

When her sleep-addled eyes finally adjusted to the soft light, an unfamiliar purple canvas ceiling greeted her. Raising herself up on her elbow, Autumn let her blankets slide down her naked chest to pool about her bandaged waist and glanced around the tent. Other than her things, which rested beside her in a neat pile, the small purple tent was fairly empty.

As she was looking around, something itched in her palm. Raising her clenched fist up and turning it over, Autumn saw a familiar splinter of the oldest boat lying within.

“Whoops,” Autumn said nervously.

After glancing around furtively, Autumn pinched the dark splinter between her fingertips and turned it over in the light, inspecting it curiously. It looked deceptively mundane. Almost artful in its normalcy. Not even her magical sight could tell it from any other splinter of rotten wood.

Autumn took an empty vial from her belt and carefully placed the splinter inside, re-corked the glass. Holding the vial up to the light, she admired her unwitting prize.

While currently she’d no plans or idea what to do with it, she hoped it would be a powerful material for whatever she did. For all she knew, it was as magically mundane as it looked. Although she very much doubted that.

A chill breeze swept through the loose tent flaps and brushed over Autumn’s uncovered chest, stiffening her slight peaks and raising goosebumps across her pale flesh.

Shivering, she hastily wrapped the warm blankets around herself.

Safely ensconced under her covers once more, Autumn finally had a moment of respite to herself. Loosening her blankets once the chill had faded, she took the time to look over her sore body. Whilst she’d been unconscious, someone — likely Pyre — had treated her wounds, unclothing her in the process and wrapped her abdomen in clean gauze bandages. The familiar twinge of rapid, magical healing resonated from where her wounds once lay.

A mottled collection of greenish-yellow bruises stood out starkly against her snowy skin. Sticky sweat coated her body as she sat in the soft light.

Taking care not to pull her injuries too much, Autumn carefully unwound the bandages from her abdomen and took in the mess of scars beneath. The silvery spear that’d pierced her through had left another rough scar amongst those left behind by the hag’s careless healing.

Autumn didn’t lament the sight as she might’ve once. With her newfound ability to reshape flesh, she planned to fix what she could into something much less tortured.

Once she’d practiced, of course. Like, a lot.

Taking out a compact, polished bronze mirror from her things, Autumn nervously peeked at the side of her face. Thankfully, the scarring wasn’t as bad as she first feared. A long, thin white line ran along the right side of her face from brow to hairline, culminating in a white slash through the top of her ear. Honestly, she thought it looked kinda badass. What concerned her more were the deep, black bags under her eyes and the absolutely terrible condition of her hair.

The only other fresh scars she’d gained lay on either side of her calf where the fragment of the exploding drow dagger had gone clean through.

However, it wasn’t just scars that Autumn looked over in her examination.

Beneath her searching gaze and ghosting fingers, Autumn found a body of taut, dense muscles cladding her lanky, wide-hipped frame. They felt like unyielding iron beneath her pale fingers. Thanks to a steady diet of rich dragon steaks and the days of rough traveling, her body had mostly recovered from its brief foray with starvation. Only her body fat had yet to recover, leaving Autumn’s womanly curves flatter than they once were, much to her consternation.

A sudden, urgent pressure from her bladder reminded Autumn that she’d been sleeping for a while.

Groaning at her aches, Autumn hauled herself to her feet. Still clad in nothing but a blanket, she sought her things and swiftly withdrew her spare set of fresh clothing from within the nomad’s belt. It took her but a moment to don her clean underthings and a thigh-length tunic, but her tight pants proved far too much for her achy limbs. Giving up, she tossed them aside and stepped into her spare pair of newly bought boots — the ones not stained by blood and vomit — and wrapped the blanket tightly around herself like a toga.

At the urging of her bladder, Autumn staggered her way out of the tent and into the glittering light outside.

The bright light made her eyes water. Blinking away the spots, Autumn cast her watery eyes around the encampment her friends had built. Several small purple tents ringed a central cookfire, concealed from the river by an assortment of large boulders and thick, tangling bushes.

Autumn’s eyes naturally alighted upon a familiar, towering form standing before the cookfire, powerful muscles glistening with sweat as she stirred a hearty pot of stew above the dancing flames. Gone were her ripped necromancer’s robes, replaced once more by the sight of her barbarian-chic furs and rippling muscles.

The scent of Nethlia’s cooking filled the air, causing Autumn’s hungry stomach to growl.

Alerted by the loud sound, Nethlia turned Autumn’s way. A bright smile lit up her face at the sight of her blanket-clad witch.

“Heya, sleepyhead!” her eyes drifted over Autumn’s unusual outfit. “Nice outfit you got there. You hungry?” she said, gesturing to the cook-pot.

While her stomach agreed, her bladder did not. Already dancing from foot to foot, Autumn quickly asked, “yes, but latrine first, please? I really need to go. Where exactly is it?”

Nethlia chuckled. “It’s back behind you. Behind the tents in the far corner. Just follow the path.” As Autumn hurried off, she called out. “Don’t use the leaves around here — Pyre says they’re mildly poisonous!”

Quickly nodding in acknowledgment as she shuffled away, Autumn made her way over to the camp’s latrine. Thankfully for her sense of smell, a small bag of herbs hung nearby, covering the stink.

After doing her business and thoroughly washing her hands in an icy bucket of water placed nearby, Autumn rushed back to Nethlia and the bowl of stew waiting for her. Autumn tried not to snatch it from the berserker’s hands as her stomach roared.

Laughing, Nethlia guided a furiously eating Autumn to sit down on a hewn log resting before the warm fire.

The dark-eyed witch ravenously devoured bowl after bowl. Autumn almost cried at the taste. After so long eating the same thing, day after day, just having something different that also tasted amazing was heaven.

Nethlia smiled at Autumn’s antics and kept refilling her bowl.

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Eventually Autumn couldn’t eat anymore and handed her empty bowl back to Nethlia, waving off an offer of more with a tiny, satisfied burp. Autumn blushed at the sound. Nethlia smiled, simply handing the witch a steaming mug of tea. Breathing in the herbal scent, Autumn curiously looked about the camp, looking for the others. Not seeing them, she turned back to Nethlia, who was dishing herself up a heaping bowl of stew.

“Uh, where are the others?”

“Here and there,” Nethlia said, waving her spoon around the encampment as she sat down heavily beside Autumn on the log. “Some are out, others sleeping. Eme was taking care of you as you slept. Right now, she’s taking a rest in her own tent. She’ll likely be up soon once she gets hungry. We got Pyre set up in her own tent, along with that alchemical set-up we looted. So she’s likely busy making potions. Or at least she was the last time I checked. Liddie and Nelva are out scouting while Edwyn is fixing any damaged gear we have.”

“How long have I been asleep?” Autumn asked as she blew on the steaming mug of tea.

After a few bites of her meal, Nethlia hummed in thought. “About two days, I think. It’s kinda hard to tell in this hells-damned place.”

Autumn looked up at the cloudy ceiling looming high over the gemstone mountain range as Nethlia ate. She understood what Nethlia was saying — she long lost track of the days, seeing as no sun drifted in this liminal realm.

“What happened after I, uh, fell?”

At Autumn’s hesitant question, Nethlia set her half-finished bowl in her lap, not minding the heat, and turned her attention fully to her. “Well, thanks to you, none of the other boats the drow had were in any state to pursue us. So, uh, thanks for that? It was quite the ride,” she smiled at the witch ruefully.

Autumn blushed at the attention.

“After we’d killed those chasing us overland, we headed upstream and found this place. Since then, we’ve just been waiting for you to wake up.” Nethlia peered at Autumn, taking in her scarred face. “How about you? How are you doing? You looked pretty beat up when we pulled you out of the river.”

Feeling self-conscious, Autumn tried to shy away from Nethlia’s ardent gaze, turning to let her black locks hide her scar. But the perceptive berserker wasn’t having it. She reached over and cupped Autumn’s cheek in one mighty palm to brush back her hair and lock eyes with her. As she ran her rough thumb along Autumn’s fresh scar, the witch’s pale, lightly freckled face went thermonuclear.

“Hey now, don’t hide that cute face away,” Nethlia softly smiled. “Don’t be ashamed of your scars. They build character. Strength. Besides, I like it.”

Autumn’s heart beat loudly in her chest as Nethlia’s bright eyes captivated her. “U-u-um, I’m-I’m g-good,” she stuttered out. “Good! I’m just feeling a little sore and magically drained. It doesn’t feel as bad as last time. I-I think I’ll be better in a few days.”

Nethlia hummed as she stroked Autumn’s cheek. Letting go, she returned to her meal.

“Good. We can take a few days to prepare for the journey ahead. Liddie still needs to find a path forward. She says it looks like a battlefield out there.”

“Battlefield?” Autumn asked, hiding her blush with a sip of her cooler drink.

Nethlia swallowed the last of her stew before replying. “Yeah. Between the fairies and some sort of shadowy creatures and more goblinoids.”

“The hag’s forces,” Autumn said grimly.

Nethlia nodded. Briefly, she stood up and loaded her bowl full before sitting beside Autumn again. “We’ll have to sneak or fight our way through. I’m leaning more on fighting our way through myself.”

The reminder of the battles to come sent an icy shiver racing down her spine. Quietly, Autumn thought about all the things that could go wrong while Nethlia ate her third bowl. And in those thoughts of dread, she remembered Death’s words and parting advice.

“Uh, hey, Nethlia? Can I speak with you for a moment?” Autumn asked nervously, fidgeting in her seat. “There’s, uh, something I need to tell you.”

Nethlia paused in her eating. “That sounds serious.” She glanced down at the nearly finished bowl in her hands. “Hang on. Just let me finish this, then we can talk.” After spooning the last of her meal into her mouth, she stacked her bowl inside of Autumn’s and placed them aside. Turning, she faced Autumn fully on the log. “Go on. I’m listening.”

Autumn swallowed nervously. “W-well, I, uh, just wanted to tell you that…that I’ve…I’ve been l-lying about—well not lying exactly, but omitting something about myself. About where I’ve come from. Not that I didn’t trust you or anything! It’s just…I don’t know…Icamefromanotherworld!” she breathed out in a rush.

Blinking in shock at the avalanche of words, Nethlia held up a calming hand towards a hyperventilating Autumn. “Calm down. Calm down. There’s no need to rush. Whatever you want to say, I’ll listen.”

Autumn chewed on her words as she shivered. Her mind was a mess.

Suddenly, Nethlia stood up. She held out a hand towards Autumn as the witch looked up at her. “How about we head somewhere else? Go for a swim? Not saying that you stink or anything, but you have been asleep for a few days.”

Autumn squawked indignantly.

Grasping Nethlia’s larger hand, she allowed the berserker to haul her easily to her feet. Staggering in her, Autumn blushed as she righted herself. She hurriedly distanced herself from the smirking demoness and rushed back over to her tent to grab her things, divesting herself of her makeshift toga while she did so. She shivered as the chill air brushed over her exposed thighs.

Making her way back outside, she hurried across the encampment towards an awaiting Nethlia, the berserker’s arms laden with her own gear. The skeletal horses cast curious looks Autumn’s way as she rushed by them.

Nethlia smiled at Autumn as she approached. “Come on, it’s not far.”

The place Nethlia led her to was a small inlet pool near the camp connected to the river, shielded from its currents by a breakwater of massive boulders. Its smooth, crystalline waters glistened beneath the glow of bioluminescent lights. Soft flowers floated atop its surface.

It was beautifully serene.

Finding a dry place, Autumn dumped her things onto the rocky beach. While glancing nervously around for a sheltered place to strip, she froze as her eyes landed upon Nethlia’s form. Uncaring for Autumn’s presence, she’d already stripped.

Autumn didn’t know where to look.

Her fervent eyes darted across the demoness’ statuesque form, dancing excitedly over rippling, powerful muscles glistening with sweat like jewels on a ruby red canvas. Nethlia’s body was a living tapestry of violence and perfection, heaving and rolling as the berserker flexed. Heavy breasts heaved before the witch’s fascinated eyes as Nethlia breathed while thighs thicker than Autumn’s waist tensed when she turned towards her.

Amused by Autumn’s drooling, amorous gaze, Nethlia crossed her stalwart, muscular biceps beneath her breasts and cocked an eyebrow at the witch.

“You gonna ogle me all day, or are you going to join me?”

Autumn started, her face flushing at being caught. Hurriedly, she turned away as Nethlia chuckled, swiftly shedding her clothes and rushing into the icy, opalescent water. The shallows fell away quickly, leaving Autumn submerged up to her waist after only a few feet. She shivered as the cold crept up her thighs.

Nethlia settled in behind her, water drifting in her wake. “Let me wash your back for you,” she said as she pressed up against Autumn.

Autumn’s skin burned where it touched Nethlia’s own. She nodded rapidly.

Soap clouded the water's surface as the pair washed themselves.

“That’s one helluva scar you got there,” Nethlia murmured, hands ghosting over Autumn’s scarred stomach.

Autumn squirmed at the touch. While she wanted nothing more than to fall into the touch, she instead mustered her will long enough to seize the berserker’s wandering hands and turned to face her, placing those rough hands back on her sudsy hips. Looking up into Nethlia’s bright eyes, Autumn took a calming breath.

“The truth is — I’m not from this world. Your world. I’m from another. Earth. I was just a student when the fey stole me. I knew nothing about magic, or witches, or even how to fight before I met you. I’m…I’m sorry for lying to you. Or at least, for not telling you. Can you forgive me?”

Nethlia smiled down at the flustered witch. “I kinda guessed.”

When Autumn opened her mouth to ask, Nethlia interrupted her with a searing kiss.

Autumn forgot to breathe. Any thoughts fled her mind as she clung desperately to Nethlia’s muscular frame, knees going weak. Soft lips pressed fiercely against her own. Teeth nipped at her lower lip. Autumn’s lips parted instinctively as a prying tongue sought entry, allowing it to twine with her own. Nethlia’s tongue was hotter than her own.

When the pair finally parted, Autumn’s breath came in short and heavy. Panting, she stared up dreamily at Nethlia as the smirking berserker held her naked body.

“Wow,” Autumn muttered.

Nethlia leant over, whispering into Autumn’s ear. “We’ve got time before the others come back. Wanna fuck?”

With wide eyes, Autumn rapidly nodded. She let out a squeal of surprise as the grinning berserker tossed her over her shoulder like a grand prize and marched cheerfully to the shore. An excited, powerful slap cracked across the witch’s backside, eliciting another squeak.

“I’ve never been much of a wordsmith, but I’ve been told I'm quite skilled with my tongue,” Nethlia grinned.

Autumn’s heart thundered in her chest. Happily this time.