The tall grass swayed softly in the late afternoon breeze, golden shafts of sunlight spilling across the meadow. A Horned Rabbit nibbled quietly at the stalks, its sharp ivory horn twitched as its ears swiveled up and down. Every few seconds, it lifted its head to sniff the air, muscles taut with the instinctive wariness of prey.
For a moment, the field seemed utterly still.
Then—fwip!
A small brown blur whistled through the air, too fast for the rabbit to react. The quill struck deep into its side, and the creature let out a brief, pitiful squeal before collapsing into the grass.
Mitchell blinked, eyes widening. He turned just in time to see Lovel lower her arm, her golden eyes steady and expression unreadable. A few meters away from the rabbit, she stood with quiet confidence, another Razor-Badger quill held lightly in her hand like a dart.
"Holy crap," Mitchell breathed, then let out a low whistle. "That was… awesome." He clapped loudly, grinning despite the grisly scene. "You didn't even have to get close! That's—like—anime sniper levels of cool."
Lovel tilted her head at him, her tail giving the faintest flick. "Sniper?"
"Ah—just means really, really good at hitting stuff from far away."
Her ears twitched once, then she began walking toward the fallen rabbit, her steps light and efficient.
Mitchell jogged after her, still buzzing from what he'd just witnessed. 'I mean, seriously. She just one-shotted a rabbit with a porcupine dart. My 'Swordsmanship F-rank' self is basically chopped liver compared to that.'
When they reached the rabbit, Lovel crouched low and examined it. She extended her hand toward Mitchell without looking. "Master, the sword please."
"Huh? Oh—yeah, right." Mitchell quickly slid the bronze sword from his back and handed it over, hilt first.
Lovel accepted it with a simple nod. She wasted no time, her hands steady as she cut along the rabbit's hide with practiced precision. The blade slipped under the skin, separating fur from flesh in clean, efficient strokes. Blood darkened the grass, but Lovel didn't flinch; she moved with the calmness of someone who had done this countless times before.
Mitchell crouched nearby, watching. "You make it look so easy. If that were me, I'd be hacking away, completely, grossed out."
Her golden eyes flicked up briefly. "You would waste the meat."
"…Yeah, that too," Mitchell admitted, scratching his cheek.
Piece by piece, Lovel separated the useful parts: the fur, intact and still warm; the horn, wiped clean of blood; the meat, wrapped neatly in scraps of hide. She handed each piece to Mitchell, who awkwardly stuffed them into his backpack, trying not to think too hard about the blood seeping into the wrapping paper.
When she finished, Lovel sat back on her heels, wiping her hands on the grass. "It is done."
Mitchell hefted the pack onto his shoulders, the weight noticeably heavier now. "And just like that, money for today. Seriously, Lovel, between your survival skills and my… uh…" He glanced at the sword, then back at her. "…comic relief, we actually make a good team."
Lovel blinked at him, her expression calm as ever. "You are not only comic relief."
Mitchell felt his chest warm at the words, even if her tone was flat. "Thanks. I'll take that as a compliment."
She rose smoothly to her feet, tail swishing once. "Shall we continue?"
Mitchell nodded, adjusting his pack. "Yeah. Let's keep looking. Hopefully we find something bigger than a rabbit."
Together, they stepped back onto the path.
—-------------
The path to the river stretched ahead, the evening sun filtering through the canopy in dappled patterns. The air smelled faintly of earth and river water, with the occasional chirp of birds breaking the silence. Mitchell adjusted the straps of his pack, sword bouncing lightly at his hip as he glanced sideways—again—at Lovel.
She walked a step behind him, her feet surprisingly quiet on the dirt. Though her posture was straight, her steps careful, Mitchell couldn't stop himself from noticing the faint sway of her body, the tension in her thin legs.
'She only just got strong enough to walk on her own,' He thought, chewing his lip. 'What if she's pushing herself too far? What if she collapses and I don't notice until it's too late? Damn it, Mitchell, stop gawking and just say something.'
He cleared his throat. "Uh, hey, Lovel. You sure you're okay? I mean, don't get me wrong, you look great—uh, I mean, walking. Great at walking. But, y'know, you don't have to push yourself. You only just recovered enough to… y'know… move without me carrying you everywhere."
Lovel's ears twitched. She didn't slow, didn't even look at him right away, but her voice came steady. "I am fine. I appreciate your concern, Master. Truly. But my body will endure this."
Mitchell frowned, glancing at her again. Her golden eyes finally met his, calm and unwavering.
Still, he wasn't convinced. He shook his head. "Look, I mean it—if you ever feel like you're too tired, you can always ask me for a piggyback. No shame in that. Seriously, I don't mind carrying you. It's not like you weigh more than a backpack full of textbooks."
She blinked, tail flicking at the odd phrase. "…Textbooks?"
"Uh, never mind," Mitchell said quickly, waving a hand. "Point is, I've got no problem hauling you around. So don't break yourself trying to act tough, alright?"
For the first time since they started walking, her lips curved into the faintest shadow of a smile. "You will continue to be a strange master."
He felt his ears heat up. "I'll take that as a compliment."
"I am glad," She said softly, her tone gentler now. "But I want to walk with my own feet. I do not wish to be carried all my life. If the time comes that I can no longer handle it… then I will tell you."
Mitchell let out a breath, running a hand through his hair. "…Alright. Deal. I'll hold you to that."
He turned back to the path, though the tension in his shoulders eased a little. 'She's stubborn. Stronger than she looks. Still… I'll be ready if she falls. Just in case.'
Behind him, Lovel's ears twitched again, catching the unspoken worry in his tone. Her tail brushed lightly against her legs, and though she didn't say it out loud, she felt an odd warmth in her chest. Having a master who worried not about her usefulness but about her well-being was… strange.
—--------------------------
The sun had dipped lower, casting long shadows across the riverbank as Mitchell and Lovel began their search. The water gurgled steadily beside them, reflecting streaks of orange and gold. Gnats buzzed lazily in the air, and every so often the grass shifted with the scurry of small animals fleeing from their presence.
"Slimes… slimes…" Mitchell muttered under his breath, crouching low to poke at clumps of mud with his sword tip. "C'mon, little jelly buddies. Just one more, and maybe we can afford a better room."
They had agreed to split up slightly, each scanning different patches of grass and mud along the river. Lovel kept to the higher ground, her ears twitching, nose twitching as she sniffed the air. Mitchell, meanwhile, trudged closer to the water's edge, eyes narrowed, so intent on spotting the telltale wobble of slime that he missed the far more dangerous presence lurking nearby.
Unseen in the reeds, a massive serpent lay coiled—its scales dark green and slick with river water. What made it more terrifying were the two heads that swayed independently, forked tongues flicking the air, tasting the scent of man. Both sets of fangs glistened, dripping venom as the creature waited for its opening.
Mitchell leaned further down, grumbling. "Why are these things so hard to find when I want to find them? I bet the goddess is laughing her—"
DING.
His body stiffened. A jolt ran down his spine, like icy fingers tapping at the back of his skull. His heart lurched.
'Is that my Danger Sense?!'
He whipped his head left, right—nothing. The river. The grass. Still empty.
Then, on pure instinct, he turned behind him—
And froze.
"…Oh crap."
The Two-Headed Viper loomed above him, both necks arching high, jaws wide open and ready to strike.
Mitchell's body moved before his brain caught up. With a shout, he ripped the bronze sword free, pivoted on his heel, and slashed upward. The blade sang through the air—shhk!—and cleaved through one of the serpent's heads in a spray of black ichor.
The decapitated skull hit the ground with a wet thump.
But there was no time to celebrate.
The other head shrieked with rage, snapping forward faster than Mitchell could dodge. Venom dripped from its fangs, glistening in the fading light as it barreled toward him.
Mitchell's eyes went wide. 'I'm dead. I'm—'
Ffft!Ffft!Ffft!
Three sharp quills whistled through the air, embedding themselves deep into the serpent's skull. The viper let out a strangled hiss, convulsed once, and then collapsed in a heap, its coils thrashing before finally going still.
Mitchell staggered back, his chest heaving, sweat pouring down his face. His grip on the sword trembled. He could feel his pulse in his throat, his ears, everywhere.
"That was—" He gasped, trying to catch his breath. "That was way too close."
Lovel descended the slope toward him, her movements graceful despite the uneven ground. Another quill still rested lightly in her hand, though it was clear she wouldn't need it.
"Master," She said calmly, "Are you hurt?"
He shook his head quickly. "No, no—I'm fine. Just… just a little closer to a heart attack than I'd like." He exhaled shakily, then managed a weak grin. "Thanks. Again. You saved me. Again."
Lovel tilted her head, her golden eyes steady. "It was nothing. You killed the first head. I finished the second."
"'Nothing,' she says…" Mitchell muttered, lowering the sword. He glanced at the dead serpent, bile rising in his throat at the sight of its twitching coils. "That thing almost turned me into a chew toy."
But Lovel didn't waste time. She knelt beside the carcass, her tail flicking as she inspected the scales with a practiced eye. "Give me the sword."
Mitchell blinked. "Uh—what?"
"The skin," she explained, holding out her hand. "Serpent hide can be tanned into valuable leather. It will sell well."
He stared at her for a moment, still trying to steady his nerves, then sighed and handed over the bronze blade. "You're scary, you know that? I'm still recovering from almost dying, and you're already thinking about harvesting material."
"We should simply hurry and take the parts we need before the materials go to waste." Her ears twitched faintly as she replied. She then grabbed the sword and pressed the blade into the serpent's hide and began the slow, precise work of peeling it away.
Mitchell watched her work, shaking his head in disbelief. 'I really did luck out, huh? Meeting her is the best thing that ever happened to me as she's the reason I'm not dead twice over.'
He slumped onto the grass, still breathing hard, his eyes flicking between Lovel and the dead serpent. "Note to self: never complain about quills being weird weapons again."
Lovel continued to crouch beside the serpent's body, her golden eyes focused, her grip on the bronze sword steady. With careful precision, she pressed the blade into the thick scales near the belly, drawing a clean line down the length of the carcass. The hiss of tearing flesh filled the quiet clearing, mixing with the faint gurgle of the river.
Mitchell sat a few paces away on the grass, hugging his knees as he tried to calm the adrenaline still buzzing in his veins. "Y'know," he muttered, watching her work, "when I pictured myself in another world, I thought I'd be the one doing the heroic monster slaying… not sitting here while my wolf-girl partner turns giant snakes into leather jackets."
Lovel didn't glance up. "Better than dying."
Mitchell winced. "Yeah, yeah, fair point."
She continued slicing, peeling the glistening hide away in long sheets. The serpent's scales shimmered faintly, catching the light with an almost metallic sheen. Each strip she folded neatly to the side, her movements efficient and practiced.
Mitchell leaned forward, curiosity overcoming his squeamishness. "So, uh… how much do you think this'll fetch at the guild?"
"I do not know." Lovel said, her tone as calm as if she were discussing the weather. "Two-Headed Serpent skin is strong, yet flexible. Armorers value it for light leather armor. The guild will pay well."
Mitchell's eyes widened. "Wait—you're saying this overgrown death noodle might actually cover more than one night at the inn?"
"Yes," She replied simply, peeling another section free.
Mitchell gave a sigh of relief, collapsing back onto the grass. "Hopefully it is worth something. I nearly died because of that thing."
Lovel ignored him, her attention fixed on the serpent's head. She gripped the base of the fangs and pressed the blade carefully around the sockets until, with a sharp tug, four long venomous fangs came free. She held them up briefly, the light catching on the glossy points.
Mitchell sat up quickly, eyes wide. "Whoa—those are wicked! Do we… keep those? Please tell me we keep those."
"They are valuable," Lovel said, wrapping the fangs in a scrap of hide. "Apothecaries use them for venom research. And yes… we will keep them."
Mitchell grinned. "Awesome."
Next, she carved into the serpent's thick muscles, cutting strips of meat free. The smell was sharp, coppery, and heavy, making Mitchell wrinkle his nose.
"Wait… we're keeping that too?" he asked, his voice tinged with both curiosity and dread.
Lovel nodded. "Meat is meat. Waste is an absolute sin." She set the strips aside and began wrapping them carefully.
Mitchell pinched his nose. "Yeah, but… snake meat? That's like eating a tire dipped in poison. Hopefully the guild will buy it."
Her ears flicked. "If not, we can always eat it ourselves."
"Comforting," Mitchell muttered, staring at the wrapped bundles.
When she finished, Lovel wiped her bloodied hands on the grass and stood, her tail swishing once. "It is done. Skin, fangs, and meat. All usable."
Mitchell looked at the neatly arranged piles and let out a low whistle. "Man… you're like a one-woman survival machine. Guess I really did luck out."
Lovel tilted her head at him, her golden eyes unreadable. "You were able to kill one head," she said softly. "Without you, I could not have harvested both."
Mitchell blinked, then grinned sheepishly. "Yeah, well… I guess that makes us a team, huh?"
Her ears twitched once in silent agreement.
Mitchell got to his feet, brushing dirt from his jeans, and hefted the heavier pack onto his shoulders. "Alright, then. Let's pack up our loot and get out of here before another snake decides to make me its lunch. We've got parts, we've got meat, we've got… trauma. Let's just call it a win and go home before something with three heads shows up."
He shifted the pack higher on his shoulders, grimacing at the extra weight. "Hopefully, this thing's worth more than that horned rabbit. Otherwise I swear the goddess is just laughing at me."
Behind him, Lovel walked with her usual quiet grace, though her golden eyes lingered on the tall grass and the fading light of the riverbank. Her tail flicked once, betraying the thoughts she didn't put into words. She had felt her body regaining strength bit by bit—enough to walk, enough to fight at least a little. Part of her longed to test herself, to see if she could do more.
But when she looked at her master's stiff shoulders, the nervous way he kept glancing over his shoulder, she said nothing.
Instead, she fell into step beside him, ears twitching faintly.
—-------------------------------
The two followed the dirt path back toward the city, the wooden bridge over the river soon coming into view. The farmlands stretched beyond the patchwork of crops. Farmers carried baskets back toward their homes, some sparing curious glances at the strange pair trudging along—an exhausted human boy in light armor and hoodie and a frail beastkin girl at his side, both carrying the faint scent of blood.
Mitchell pretended not to notice. His eyes fixed on the distant walls of Varnhelm, rising tall and solid against the evening sky. The closer they came, the more he let himself relax, each step away from the wilderness a step closer to safety.
By the time the gates loomed above them, torches were already being lit along the parapets. Guards called out greetings to returning adventurers, their voices carrying on the cool breeze. Mitchell gave them a quick nod, trying not to look suspicious as he adjusted the heavy pack full of serpent hide and meat.
"Home sweet… well, not home," He muttered under his breath. "But at least it's not the middle of monster territory."
Lovel's ears twitched at his words, though she kept her silence.
They passed through the gate and onto the cobbled streets of Varnhelm. Lanterns glowed warmly in shop windows, the smell of roasting food wafting from taverns, and the hum of voices carried in the evening air. For the first time since that serpent had lunged at him, Mitchell's shoulders eased slightly.
"Alright," he said, more firmly this time. "Let's go get paid."
He turned down the familiar road, Lovel matching his pace, until the raucous laughter and clinking mugs of the Adventurers Guild reached their ears once more.
Mitchell pushed open the heavy oak doors, the din of the hall washing over them, and stepped inside with his strange partner at his side—ready to trade fear and fangs for copper and maybe, just maybe, a little respect.
—---------------------------------
The Adventurers Guild was just as rowdy as when they had left it earlier. The hall was filled with the clatter of mugs, the slam of dice against wood, and the occasional roar of laughter that rattled the rafters. Mitchell adjusted his pack and elbowed his way through the crowd, Lovel trailing behind him with her usual quiet poise.
By some twist of fate—or maybe the universe enjoying a laugh at his expense—he ended up once again in Sera's line.
When his turn came, he stepped forward and set the heavy pack on the counter with a relieved grunt. "Evening, Sera. Got a few things I'd like to trade in."
Sera glanced up from her paperwork, her pale eyes narrowing slightly in that way that suggested she was bracing herself for whatever chaos he'd bring this time. "Very well. Show me."
Mitchell began unpacking, laying the goods on the counter one by one. First, the neatly wrapped Horned Rabbit hide and horn. Then, with a bit more effort, the serpent hide, bundled strips of meat, claws, and the twin fangs wrapped carefully in cloth.
A hush fell in their immediate area. A couple of adventurers nearby leaned over to peer at the serpent's skin. Someone muttered, "Two-Headed Viper?" before returning to his drink.
Sera's quill stilled mid-note. She raised her eyes slowly to Mitchell. "…You brought back parts of a Two-Headed Serpent."
Mitchell grinned sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yep. Pretty wild, huh? You could say I've, uh, leveled up."
Sera's lips pressed into a thin line. She inspected the hide, then the fangs, her expression unreadable but her eyes sharp. At last she spoke. "Impressive. I did not think you would attempt such a dangerous creature. I had assumed you would play it safe with rabbits and slimes."
Mitchell puffed out his chest. "Well, y'know, sometimes a man's gotta prove himself. Show the world he's not just a slime-poking rookie."
Lovel's ears flicked behind him. She cleared her throat softly. "He only fought it because it was about to kill him."
Mitchell's grin froze. "…Hey. You didn't have to tell her that part."
Sera's brow arched, and the faintest smile tugged at the corner of her lips. "I see. So you stumbled into its jaws, and by sheer desperation, managed to win."
Mitchell threw up his hands. "Desperation, courage—same thing, right? The important part is, we're both still alive."
"Because of her," Sera said evenly, nodding toward Lovel.
Mitchell deflated, scratching his cheek awkwardly. "…Okay, fair. She, uh, finished the job."
Lovel stood silently beside him, her face calm, though her tail flicked once as if confirming Sera's words.
Sera sighed softly, quill scratching across her parchment as she calculated. "Very well. The Horned Rabbit—five copper. The serpent parts… ten copper for the hide, another ten for the fangs, and meat." She looked up, her tone brisk. "That makes twenty five copper in total."
Mitchell's eyes nearly popped out of his head. "Twenty Five?! That's—great!" He grabbed the coins eagerly as Sera stacked them neatly on the counter.
Sera regarded him coolly. "Do not let it go to your head. A man who stumbles into a monster's maw and lives by luck should not act as though he is invincible."
Mitchell nodded quickly, pocketing the coins. "Yeah, yeah, don't worry. Lesson learned. Next time, I'll try not to be monster chow."
"See that you don't," Sera said, though her eyes softened just a fraction.
Mitchell shifted the pack back onto his shoulders, grinning. "Thanks, Sera. You're always a ray of sunshine."
"Hmm." She returned to her paperwork, quill scratching briskly.
As Mitchell turned to leave, Lovel dipped her head politely. "Goodbye."
Sera inclined her head in return. "Stay alive, both of you."
The guild's noise swallowed them as they stepped back into the crowd, Mitchell's coin pouch clinking with the sound of their hard-earned fortune.
—-----------------------------
Mitchell jingled the coin pouch in his hand as they stepped out of the Adventurers Guild, the weight of the copper giving him a small thrill of pride. "Alright," he muttered, doing some quick math in his head. "Nineteen from before, plus twenty-five from today's haul… that makes forty-four copper." He grinned, puffing out his chest a little.
Beside him, Lovel walked with her usual steady grace, her ears flicking as she listened. She didn't say anything, but the faint twitch of her tail suggested she was amused.
The sun hadn't set yet, the sky still bright with the colors of late afternoon, and the marketplace bustled with life. Merchants shouted their wares from colorful stalls, hawking everything from skewers of steaming meat to bolts of fabric. Children darted between the crowds, chasing each other with shrill laughter, while the smell of spices, sweat, and roasting bread filled the air.
Mitchell looked down at Lovel's ragged clothes—the same tattered things she'd worn since the cages. He tightened his grip around her hand and gave her a reassuring smile. "Come on. Let's pick up some supplies. Salt, paper for wrapping, maybe…" He hesitated, then squeezed her hand gently. "Something decent for you to wear."
Lovel's ears flicked again, but she followed without protest.
They started small—at a stall where an old woman sold jars of coarse salt. Mitchell leaned over the counter, squinting at the price. "Five copper? For salt? Lady, ."
The woman only raised an eyebrow, unimpressed.
Mitchell groaned, but paid anyway. "Fine. But you better believe I'm savoring every single grain."
Lovel stood quietly at his side, watching with her calm golden eyes. When he glanced back, she was staring at him oddly.
"What?" he asked, shifting uncomfortably.
"You argue like a merchant," she said.
He sighed. "Uh, yeah. You can say my job was something similar."
From there, they bought a bundle of parchment sheets for wrapping meat. Mitchell tried to haggle again, but the vendor was just as stubborn as the first. Another few coppers vanished from his pouch.
Finally, they stopped at a clothing stall. Shirts, trousers, and dresses hung neatly from wooden pegs, the fabric plain but sturdy. Mitchell ran his hands along the fabric, frowning thoughtfully. "Nothing fancy," he muttered, "but at least you won't look like… well, like you just escaped a dungeon."
Lovel's ears tilted back slightly at the words, but she said nothing as Mitchell picked through the clothes. Eventually, they settled on a simple tunic in soft beige, with dark trousers and a sturdy belt. Not expensive, but not cheap either.
Mitchell winced as he handed over the coins. The pouch grew noticeably lighter.
By the time they left the stall, Lovel wore her new clothes. They weren't elegant, but they fit well enough, and in the fading light, she looked less like a starving slave. The collar around her neck was still there, a stark reminder of her status.
Mitchell glanced at her, scratching the back of his head awkwardly. "Well? Better?"
Lovel looked down at herself, then back up at him. "Most of the money was spent on this."
"So what?" Mitchell said, smiling crookedly. "You needed proper clothes. We can always earn more tomorrow. What matters is that you're comfortable."
Her ears twitched, her golden eyes softening. For a long moment, she didn't reply. Then she said quietly, "You are… a strange master. But I am glad I met you."
Mitchell felt heat creep up his cheeks. He turned away quickly, rubbing at his nose. "Y-Yeah, well. Don't make it weird. Just… consider it part of the job description."
They continued walking as the sky deepened into shades of purple and orange. Merchants began packing up their stalls, and lanterns flickered to life along the cobbled streets.
Mitchell yawned, stretching his arms. "Alright, that's enough shopping for one day. Let's head back before we spend the last of our coppers on street food."
Lovel nodded, falling into step beside him. Her tail swayed gently, her new clothes rustling softly as she walked. There was a quiet happiness in her eyes, a spark that hadn't been there before.
Mitchell glanced at her one last time, smiling despite the lightness of his pouch. 'Fourteen copper left. Not much, but… worth it.'
As the two made their way back toward the Hollow Hearth, the streets dimming into night, Lovel followed close at his side—her heart lighter than it had been in a long time.