Norman crossed his arms over his chest to protect his purity from the giant woman in front of him. He didn’t know where he was or why he was in his boxers, but it probably wasn’t for any pure reason. A horrifying thought crossed his mind, and he whipped his head over to look at Pail. He let out a sigh of relief when he found Pail still hunched over the fire, very much clothed. At least this amazoness had enough of a moral compass to not thirst for little boys.
“Calm down, your highness.” Rowboat scoffed in amusement. This man really was some faraway royalty if he got this fussed over sleeping in his underwear. It was common sense to strip while you slept, wasn’t it? Or maybe he had a special set of golden silk pajamas that he slept in. “Your clothes were wet.” The towering woman picked up Norman’s slightly damp clothes and threw them in his lap; she made sure to put some extra strength into her throw as punishment for his obvious sinful thoughts.
Norman’s already flushed face turned a shade deeper as he mumbled something about common sense and polite society. He sheepishly put on his clothes, facing the wall to keep his thinning dignity. He’d only been in this world for a week, but he had already faced more humiliation than he had in his lifetime. Maybe this was a divine punishment for being too good of a citizen and making others jealous of his perfection. If some god was listening to his self-absorbed reasoning, they would surely strike him down.
“Wow! You were right! Mister really wasn’t dead!” Pail exclaimed excitedly as he ran over to cling to Norman’s leg. He’d been checking on Norman every few minutes ever since he fell asleep, just in case he woke up and got scared or was crying. “You’re real lucky that Miss Rowboat came and saved ya! I was so scared, ya know!” He explained, nuzzling into the man’s leg harder, as if making sure he was really alive and not an undead.
Norman, not knowing how to react to the affection of a small child, awkwardly patted the boy’s head with about as much affection as a brick. “Well. I don’t know how I passed out, but I am thankful that you took care of me, Pail, Miss Rowboat.” He gave Rowboat a polite nod, inwardly asking himself why everyone in this world had such uncreative names. “May I ask where we are?”
[WE ARE 9 MILES AWAY FRO—]
“This is my cabin.” Rowboat unintentionally cut Savant, who was excited to finally be of use, off, causing a wave of irritation bordering on rage to flow through Norman’s brain link. “The kid told me you were heading to Lugg. It’s about half a day’s walk from here if you’re quick.” The half-giant continued, her voice booming through the shack that could barely be called a house. “It’s getting dark out, so stay tonight and head off tomorrow morning. All kinds of monsters crawl out at night.”
After wrangling Pail off his body and Savant off his mind, Norman turned to Rowboat and cleared his throat, “Oh, no, we couldn’t overstay our welcome. You’ve already shown us plenty of hospitality; we wouldn’t want to overstep.” That was his politest way of saying that he’d rather take his chances in the woods than stay in this shack that smelled of blood and damp mud.
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“Nonsense!” Rowboat insisted as she sat down by the fire, smacking her knee loudly to make a point. “You’re going to let a little girl like that outside this late? You’re staying until morning, and that’s final.” She harshly plated parts of the mud creature on broken plates and set them in front of Norman and Pail. Did noble men have no sense at all? A little girl alone in the dark woods with only such a frail man to protect her was a recipe for disaster, even if they had a spirit beast with them.
Norman was too busy trying to keep himself from throwing up at the foul stench of the mud monster to respond. Meanwhile, Pail happily dug in, mud getting all over his mouth and hands as he greedily stuffed spoonful after spoonful in his mouth. “Thanks, Miss Rowboat! It’s real tasty!” He grinned at her as politely as he could. “But I’m a boy, ya know?” He continued, speaking with his mouth full of mystery mud meat, “People always say I’m a girl, so I started wonderin’, ya see? But mister told me he was suuuuper sure I was a boy, ya know? He even crossed his heart on it!”
Rowboat narrowed her eyes in suspicion. This child looked as pretty as a doll and delicate as a flower, yet she was supposed to believe they were male? She didn’t buy it. What kind of boy had braided hair and ribbons? “Really? What made him so sure that you’re a boy?” She shot an accusatory glance at Norman, wondering what he would have to gain from convincing this little girl that she’s a boy.
Pail just shrugged; he didn’t know what made girls and boys different or why it mattered. Apparently, it was really important, and boys were strong and loud while girls were weak and gentle, but that didn’t seem true at all—the girl and boy in front of him were prime examples of that. “Dunno! Something about bath time.” He was gonna be a dragon when he grew up, so why should he care if he was a girl or a boy?
Norman wanted to chime in and get Rowboat’s suspicious gaze off of him, but he was far too awkward to know how to handle delicate conversations such as this one. He opened and closed his mouth a few times in hesitation before finally speaking up. “You stand up when you pee. Girls don’t.” He explained awkwardly, trying to explain what made girls and boys different while not going into scientific details. Norman didn’t particularly care about what made women and men different, either.
Pail seemed satisfied with that answer, nodding in agreement. Being a girl sounded inconvenient if they had to lie down every time they had to pee. Pail shot Rowboat a look of sympathy at the revelation; poor miss barely had the space to lay down in here. “Does that mean Pretty is a girl? They always sit behind a tree when they go!”
Rowboat’s suspicions eased a bit at Norman’s awkward explanation. If he was lying to the child, then he’d probably offer up some way more outlandish explanation. Maybe Pail really was a boy, but that raised the question as to why he was dressed like a girl. The question about the huli jing brought her attention elsewhere, though. “What? You don’t know? All spirit foxes are female, so your Pretty is a girl.” How these people had managed to tame a notoriously skittish huli jing while not even knowing that they were an all-female species confused her to no end. But then again, everything about them was confusing.
“Really!? Pretty! Are ya a girl? You shoulda told me!” Pail hugged the fox kit tightly, nuzzling into her fluffy neck. Maybe Pretty could wear dresses like Serena when she grew up? Pail was confident that Pretty could pull off any dress she wanted to wear, not thinking too much about the logistics of a fox wearing a human dress. “That means ya can be a bride someday! Mister told me only girls can be brides!”
Pretty herself didn’t seem to care all that much about the revelation; she already knew she was a girl, after all. She just yawned lazily and leaned into her human friend’s embrace, enjoying the warmth offered by his feathers. She was about to fall asleep when the loud boom of thunder echoed out through the forest, followed by heavy rain.
