Erynne shuffled out of her bedroll, bleary-eyed and stiff, blinking at the morning light spilling between the trees. One thought burned through the cobwebs of sleep.
I need to pee.
The fire had burned down to a low, crackling pile of coals. The cats were still asleep—Trouble curled into a smug little loaf, Storm stretched like a diva on the warmest rock. Erynne tiptoed past the drowsy beastfolk, grabbed her slippers, and padded toward the treeline.
A few minutes later, after handling her Very Important Forest Business (with zero dignity), she sighed and leaned against a tree, squinting up at the lavender-tinted sky.
Her hair felt greasy. Her skin was tacky with sweat and smoke. Her pajama pants had suspicious moss stains from the fight yesterday.
“Okay,” she muttered. “I don’t even need a magic spa. Just soap. And hot water. And—what is that smell?” She sniffed her sleeve and recoiled. “Oh god, that’s me.”
Just as she was debating whether to dunk herself in a barrel or roll in the river, she heard the soft crunch of approaching footsteps. She turned, instinctively summoning her status screen with a flick of her fingers—but the shimmer of antlers calmed her in an instant.
Fauna stood at the edge of the trees, a woven basket on one hip and a faint smile playing on her lips. “You’re up early,” she said, her voice as serene as always.
Behind her, heavier footsteps followed—Tovik, carrying an extra satchel slung over one shoulder.
“I was trying to sneak in a pee without waking the cats,” Erynne said honestly. “Pretty sure at least one of them would judge me.”
Fauna stepped closer and held out the basket. Inside were warm pieces of flatbread, slices of fruit, and a wedge of soft cheese. Erynne nearly cried.
“Breakfast,” Fauna said. “And we thought… perhaps a tour of the village today?”
Erynne nodded eagerly, but then paused, grimacing as she tried to casually smooth her tangled hair. “That sounds amazing, but—uh—real talk. Do you have a bathhouse? A magic waterfall? Enchanted loofah?”
Fauna’s eyes sparkled with quiet amusement. “We use the river. A group of us were just about to head down with the children. You’re welcome to join.”
“Oh thank god,” Erynne said, hugging the basket to her chest like it was sacred. “I am officially begging for bath privileges.”
Tovik gave a low grunt and turned to Alrik, who had just wandered out of the shade, still chewing on a piece of tuber from the morning cookfire. “Come on,” he said, clapping a heavy hand on Alrik’s shoulder. “You and I can take the other route. I’ll show you the proper corners of the village. Bathing’s for after.”
Alrik’s eyes flicked from Tovik to Fauna, to Erynne, to the bread she was now greedily nibbling. “Split the party already? Bold move.”
Erynne called out as she followed Fauna. “Try not to fall in a compost pit!”
Alrik grinned. “No promises!”
The river wasn’t far—just a gently winding trail flanked by wildflowers and whispering trees. Erynne followed Fauna alongside several other beastkin women and half a dozen giggling children, all of them relaxed and chattering like this was part of their normal rhythm.
A little girl with oversized fox ears walked beside Erynne for a while, staring up at her.
“Your ears are weird,” the girl said cheerfully.
“They’re not fuzzy,” added another child with a bushy tail and big eyes.
Erynne blinked. “Rude,” she said mildly. “But technically accurate.”
Fauna, walking just ahead, offered a small smile over her shoulder. “They’re curious. They’ve never met a human who wasn’t chasing them off.”
Erynne let that sit a moment.
Then she smiled and looked at the kids. “Well, I promise not to chase anyone—unless it’s toward snacks.”
That earned a few giggles.
They reached the river a few minute later. A few smooth boulders jutted out along the shore, and a natural pool had formed just deep enough for splashing and soaking.
Erynne stood at the edge, clutching her basket of borrowed soapstones and towels, surrounded by beastkin women and their children.
And she was stalling.
She wasn’t shy, exactly. She’d seen plenty of bathhouse episodes in anime. But this wasn’t fiction—and the reality of undressing in front of strangers (who also happened to have tails, fuzzy ears, and the kind of posture that suggested they could kill a man with a soup ladle) gave her pause.
Fauna was already waist-deep in the river, her long green hair braided over one shoulder, delicate blossoms still tucked behind her antlers. She looked serene, like she belonged in a fantasy calendar for the month of “Grace.”
One of the older women nudged Erynne gently, offering a reassuring smile as she reached for her own soap. “Don’t worry, dear. We’ve seen everything before. You’re just lucky you don’t have fur to dry.”
That earned a ripple of laughter, and the last of Erynne’s hesitation cracked.
She stripped down and stepped carefully into the cool water, yelping once as it hit her knees. “Cold, cold, cold—okay, not terrible—now terrible again—oh! Feet went numb. We’re fine.”
The women laughed again, and within minutes, she was seated on a flat rock in the shallows while one of them massaged soap into her hair with expert hands.
“You’ve got a whole pinecone in here,” the woman said, teasing gently. “What were you doing?”
“Running from carnivorous rabbits?” Erynne offered. “Poorly.”
Kids splashed nearby, shrieking in delight as they turned the shallows into a makeshift splash zone. One bunny-eared girl threw a handful of water at her friend, missed, and soaked Erynne’s side instead.
“Oh no,” Erynne said dramatically, turning slowly. “You have activated my trap card.”
Three seconds later, she was up to her elbows launching splash attacks with expert precision. A half-dozen children swarmed her, shrieking and laughing.
She hadn’t laughed like that in a long time.
By the time they finished, the sun was higher in the sky and Erynne’s fingers were pruny. Her hair was damp but clean, pulled back into a loose braid by one of the women. She was handed a simple linen tunic, soft from many washes, and a skirt cinched with a woven belt.
It wasn’t stylish. It didn’t sparkle.
But it was hers, for now. And she felt more human than she had in days.
Sitting on a sun-warmed rock, Erynne stretched her legs and let the breeze dry her skin. A little fox-eared girl plopped down beside her.
Erynne leaned back on her elbows. “Not fire—and definitely not from my hands. It was more like… a beam of sunlight got really cranky.”
The girl’s eyes widened. “Whoa.”
“Yeah,” Erynne said. “Startlingly effective. Mildly terrifying.”
Fauna came to sit beside her, her clothes slightly damp at the hem, her scent faintly floral from some herb in the river water.
“They already adore you,” she said softly.
Erynne glanced at the kids, who were now trying to catch minnows with their bare hands.
“They threw me in the river,” she said. “Hard not to love people after that.”
Fauna tilted her head. “You are different. Most humans... fear what we are. Or want something from us.”
“I think I just wanted a bath,” Erynne said.
They both laughed.
Back in the village, Erynne walked barefoot across the packed dirt, her cats trailing behind like royalty.
Alrik jogged over from the opposite direction, somehow still spotless in his hoodie, holding a skewer of grilled root vegetables.
He stopped short when he saw her. “Hey! You look… way less cursed.”
“You should try it sometime,” she said, flicking her damp braid over one shoulder.
He leaned in conspiratorially. “Also? I found it.”
Erynne narrowed her eyes. “Found what?”
Alrik grinned like a man with forbidden knowledge.
“The outhouse.”
She stared. “There’s an outhouse?”
“With a DOOR. And a seat. And a little moon cutout at the top.”
Erynne clutched her forehead. “I have been peeing in bushes like a heathen.”
Alrik patted her shoulder. “Welcome to civilization.”
