Shadow’s ears twitched as light brushed her cheeks, and with a soft sigh, she stretched — tail curling, legs tucked, arms over her head like a sleepy cat. When she opened her eyes, she blinked at the figure across the fire.


    Baomont was preparing for the day, sitting cross-legged with a stick in one hand and what looked like a half-sharpened rock in the other. He was clearly trying to make something useful.


    Instead, it looked like a spoon that had been insulted one too many times and decided to become a weapon out of spite.


    “Oh! Morning,” he said with a grin. “You seemed to sleep well for someone who already spent several days sleeping.”


    Shadow blinked. “You slept well for someone who talked in his sleep all night!”


    “I—wait, I do not.”


    “You were mumbling something about bao buns and betrayal.”


    “…I stand by it.”


    She giggled softly, pulling herself upright and adjusting her oversized cloak — one Baomont had managed to patch together from salvaged deer hide.


    After a few minutes of stretching and checking the perimeter, the two of them fell into a comfortable rhythm — their first true morning as bi-pedial companions.


    Baomont cooked breakfast (if heating dried mushrooms on a rock counted as cooking), while Shadow tested her balance on two feet again. Her energy had mostly returned, though she still moved cautiously.


    “Here,” Baomont said, offering her a flat bark plate. “Chef Baomont’s signature: charred shroom slivers with a hint of mystery dust.”


    Shadow accepted it with both hands and a mock-bow. “Truly, a delicacy of the forest.”


    They ate in silence for a while. Then:


    “You sure you’re up for light work?” he asked.


    She nodded. “I’m not good at sitting still for too long.”


    “Then great. Time to put those hands to use — unless you’d rather go back to the good ol’ days of carrying sticks in your mouth.”


    Her face flushed slightly. “That was a practical solution at the time.”


    He held up his hands in mock surrender. “Hey, no judgment. You were very efficient. But now that you can walk, we get double the productivity!”


    She rolled her eyes and stuck out her tongue.


    Over the next few days they took it slow.


    Shadow wasn’t fully recovered yet, so Baomont limited their activity to gathering food, wood, and materials near the river. He gave her space, but also watched her closely — the way her ears perked up when she found something interesting, how her tail swayed lightly when she was content, or how she reflexively turned into a wolf again when startled.


    He found it oddly… charming.


    They shared chores, shared meals, shared stories. Baomont didn’t talk much about where he was from — at least not yet — but he did his best to keep her smiling. Bad jokes helped.


    “Don’t tell me you’ve never heard the tale of Sir Pointius Maximus the Second, noble blade of stone and glory?”


    “Was that the rock that chipped itself on a pebble yesterday?”


    “…Tragic casualty of war.”


    She laughed. Genuinely. And each time she did, he felt a little more like he belonged here.


    By the third day, Shadow had recovered enough to start moving without wobbling. She was still cautious, but her tail wagged more freely and her eyes had lost that cloudy exhaustion. She’d even stopped flinching every time a twig cracked.


    Baomont watched her inspect a cluster of berry bushes like a field scout mapping terrain.


    “You''re getting faster,” he said, as he approached with a bundle of kindling. “If you keep this up, I’ll have to rename you Speedius Maximus.”


    “That name sounds ridiculous.”


    “So do most things, if you say them too fast,” he smirked.


    Shadow grinned faintly, her nose twitching as she sniffed at the berries. “They’re safe. These ones taste bitter, but they won’t poison us.”


    Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.


    “Spoken like someone who’s had a very unfortunate berry experience,” he said with a raised brow.


    She looked away. “I might’ve… once or twice.”


    “Solidarity,” he said, patting his stomach. “Trust me. I know that journey.”


    Later, as they sat by the fire, Baomont used his Matter Manipulation to carve a few new water flasks out of bark and resin. Shadow sat nearby, watching the flames.


    “Are you really sure about leaving this place?” she asked quietly.


    He paused. “Yeah. I mean… It''s comfortable here, sure. But it’s not enough. We need to find people. Towns. Roads. Something.”


    Her ears flicked. “People aren’t always good.”


    “I know,” he said softly. “But sometimes they are. And even if they’re not… I still want to understand this world. I can’t do that hiding in the woods forever.”


    She was quiet for a moment. Then, “You talk like someone who’s seen a lot… but you don’t know much about here. Like... at all.”


    Baomont chuckled and leaned back, hands behind his head.


    “That obvious, huh?”


    She nodded slowly, watching him.


    “I’m from far away,” he said. “Really far. Let’s just say... I didn’t grow up around forests full of magic wolves and slime monsters.”


    Her gaze didn’t shift.


    “You’re not lying,” she said. “But you’re hiding something.”


    He glanced at her. “I’m not ready to tell that story yet.”


    “…Okay,” she said at last, curling her legs close. “Just don’t lie to me, Baomont. I’ve had enough of that from other people.”


    He looked at her — really looked — and nodded.


    “I won’t.”


    The trees thinned as they walked, revealing stretches of dirt and stone scattered with dry leaves and moss. Sunlight filtered through the canopy in patches, warming their shoulders. Shadow’s wolf form trotted just ahead of Baomont, tail flicking in rhythm with her steps.


    Then she stopped.


    Baomont nearly walked into her.


    “What is it?” he asked.


    She raised her nose, sniffed the air, then pointed with one paw.


    There, half-buried in a patch of dry mud, was a footprint.


    Human? Definitely booted.


    Baomont crouched beside it, brushing some of the dirt away. The tread was still defined — heavy, thick-heeled, not recent but not old either.


    “There’s more,” Shadow murmured, shifting back into her girl form as she crouched beside him. “A trail… faint, but fresh enough to follow.”


    He looked at her. “What do you think? Bandits? Travelers?”


    “Could be either,” she said quietly. “But they’re human.”


    Baomont stood slowly, brushing his hands off. “We should follow them. It might be a sign of civilization.”


    Shadow didn’t move.


    “...You okay?”


    Her ears lowered. Her tail curled inward.


    “I don’t know if I can do this,” she admitted. “Humans… where I come from… they’re not kind to people like me.”


    Baomont turned to her fully. “What do you mean?”


    She hesitated,


    “Beastkin are treated as property. Slaves. Pets, if they’re lucky. If I get recognized…”


    Her voice trailed off.


    Baomont’s expression darkened. “Is that what happened to you?”


    She nodded, eyes downcast. “I escaped. That’s why I led us this way — away from where I came from.”


    A moment of silence passed between them. Only the wind rustled the trees.


    “I’m sorry,” he said softly.


    She shook her head. “You don’t have to be. You didn’t do it.”


    “No, but… if we’re going to keep traveling, I need to know you’re safe.” He looked at the footprints again. “Would anyone recognize you?”


    “Not out here,” she said. “I was kept in the east. I don’t think they’d follow me this far. Still…”


    Baomont rubbed his chin. “Then we’ll do what we have to. If anyone asks, we’ll say…”


    He trailed off, then looked at her apologetically.


    “We’ll say you’re mine.”


    Shadow blinked.


    “Not like that,” he added quickly. “Not really. Just as a cover. If people think you’re already ‘owned’ — they won’t try to take you. Right?”


    She nodded, slowly. “It’s… not a lie they’d question. And it might work.”


    “You okay with that?”


    She looked up at him. Then gave a small, sad smile.


    “If it means I can stay free, then yes.”


    He offered his hand. “Then let’s keep walking.”


    She took it, and they stepped off the trail together, following the footprints into the unknown.


    They followed the trail for hours.


    The forest gave way to worn grass, and the dirt beneath their feet gradually became more compact — less wild, more traveled. The boot prints became clearer, and new signs began to appear. A faded wheel rut. The faint edge of a stone wall, crumbled with age. A rusted iron nail half-buried in the soil.


    Baomont adjusted the pouch on his belt and looked ahead.


    A breeze blew, carrying with it the scent of smoke — not fire, but the kind that clings to rooftops and hearths.


    Shadow’s ears perked up.


    “There,” she said, pointing toward a ridge in the distance.


    Baomont squinted past the trees.


    Beyond a low hill, he saw it — rooftops, chimneys, stone buildings nestled into the landscape. Smoke rose gently from several of them, and the faint sound of distant movement reached his ears.


    A town.


    Not large. Not grand. But real.


    His heart beat faster. After all this time — signs of people. Of structure. Of answers.


    He took a step forward, but stopped when he heard it:


    “Are you new here?”


    The voice came from behind them. Calm. Curious. Unfamiliar.


    Baomont froze, turning his head slowly.


    Shadow stood still beside him, ears angled back, tail stiff.