Celestine woke to the gentle, insistent chirping of sparrows and a beam of sunlight warming her face. She stretched, a contented sigh escaping her lips. The memory of the previous day—the teasing, the teaching, the shared stew under a blanket of stars—settled over her like a warm shawl. It had been… nice. More than nice.
Then she opened her eyes.
Prious's bedroll was empty.
A jolt, sharp and entirely unreasonable, shot through her. Had she left? Had the closeness of the night scared her off? The clearing was silent except for the birds. Celestine sat up, her eyes scanning the tree line. That's when she saw them: a trail of fresh, large footprints leading away from the camp and into the deeper woods.
Without thinking, driven by a impulse she didn't bother to name, she was on her feet and following them. Her heart hammered a frantic rhythm against her ribs. What if she was hurt? What if she'd been ambushed? Her mind conjured images of Prious lying wounded, those golden eyes dimmed.
The footprints led to a small, secluded glade where a crystal-clear stream widened into a peaceful pool. The morning mist still clung to the water's surface, and the air was thick with the scent of wet earth and moss.
And there, in the center of the river, was Prious.
Celestine's brain short-circuited.
Prious was standing waist-deep in the water, her back to Celestine. Water streamed in rivulets down the powerful, sculpted muscles of her back and shoulders. Her steel-grey hair was plastered to her neck, dark with moisture. And as she turned, presumably at the sound of Celestine's clumsy approach, the full, devastating view was revealed.
Her skin was pale and flawless, marred only by a few silvery scars that crisscrossed her torso like ancient runes. Water sluiced over the firm, generous curves of her breasts, the morning sun catching on the droplets and making her skin gleam. She was… magnificent. A warrior goddess carved from living marble.
Time froze. Celestine's mouth went dry. Her eyes, wide as saucers, traveled from the water dripping from Prious's chin, down the strong column of her throat, over the proud swell of her chest, and down the taut plane of her stomach.
Prious's golden eyes met hers. There was no anger, no outrage. Just a look of stunned, wide-eyed shock.
The spell broke. Celestine let out a strangled squeak. Her feet, which seemed to have forgotten their purpose, tangled together. With a yelp, she stumbled forward, arms flailing, and landed hard on the soft, muddy bank of the stream, her face inches from the water.
She pushed herself up, sputtering, her cheeks burning with a fire that could have rivaled the sun. Mud streaked her dress and face. She was a complete, utter disaster.
"I—I was… looking for… mushrooms!" she blurted out, the lie so transparent it was an insult to liars everywhere. "The… the spotted ones! They only grow near water! And I thought I saw one! Over there!" She gestured wildly at a completely random patch of ferns. "But it was just a… a rock. A very mushroom-shaped rock. Very deceptive."
Prious had not moved. She was still standing there, water lapping at her waist, her expression now one of profound, bewildered astonishment. A faint, rosy blush began to spread from her chest, up her neck, and across her cheeks.
"And then I… slipped," Celestine continued, scrambling to her feet and brushing ineffectually at the mud now caked on her front. "On the… the… slippery… mushroom-hunting… path. Which is here. Apparently."
Realizing that every word out of her mouth was making it worse, Celestine decided to employ the age-old strategy of strategic retreat. She cleared her throat, her gaze firmly locked on a tree over Prious's left shoulder.
"Right. Well. I'll just… go and… prepare the stuff. So we can go. Back to the village. With our… herbs. And our… payment." She gave a jerky, ridiculous little wave. "Carry on. With your… aquatic… endeavors."
She turned and practically fled, her ears ringing with the sound of her own humiliation.
The walk back to Oakhaven was the most excruciatingly silent journey of Celestine's long life. The easy camaraderie of the previous day had vanished, replaced by a thick, palpable awkwardness that seemed to muffle even the sounds of the forest. Celestine marched rigidly ahead, her face still warm. Prious trailed behind, her usual silence now feeling heavy and loaded.
Every time Celestine replayed the scene in her mind—the water, the scars, the look of stunned surprise—she cringed inwardly. She'd called her a clumsy puppy, but she was the one who'd stumbled like a fawn on ice while ogling the hunter in her bath.
They reached the Adventurer's Guild and wordlessly handed over the completed quest items to Borin.
"Well now!" Borin boomed, counting out their twenty silver crowns. "Looks like the two of you managed not to kill each other! Made a friend, have we, Mistress Stine?"
Celestine's head shot up. "No! I mean, yes! I mean… it's not… we're not…" She flailed for a moment, her cheeks flushing anew. "We are friends! It's just that… things… happen. In the woods. Unexpected… botanical… occurrences." She winced at her own words.
Prious, standing beside her, was studying the grain of the wooden counter with the intensity of a scholar deciphering an ancient text. Her own ears were tipped with red.
Borin looked from Celestine's flustered face to Prious's rigid posture and chuckled. "Aye, 'botanical occurrences.' I've heard that one before. Right then. Here's your payment."
Celestine snatched the coins. An idea, born of a desperate need to either break the tension or compound the embarrassment, struck her.
"Since we're… *friends*," she said, the word feeling foreign on her tongue, "and we got our payment, how about we half it and have breakfast? My treat. To celebrate our… successful… non-lethal collaboration."
Prious finally looked up from the counter, her golden eyes wide with surprise. She opened her mouth, closed it, then gave a slow, hesitant nod.
They found a quiet corner in a nearby tavern, the "Sleeping Satyr." The air smelled of ale and frying bacon. They sat across from each other in a heavy, awkward silence, the ten silver crowns piled neatly between them like a monument to their shared discomfort.
Celestine couldn't take it anymore. She took a deep breath, staring fixedly at her tankard of cider.
"About this morning," she began, her voice barely above a whisper.
Prious immediately tensed, her shoulders creeping towards her ears.
"I truly was… concerned," Celestine continued, choosing her words with the care of a bomb disposal expert. "When I saw you were gone. I thought maybe a… a Rock-Borer's cousin had found you. Or you'd fallen into a… a pit. I wasn't… I didn't mean to…" She gestured vaguely, helplessly. "...conduct a wildlife survey."
Prious was now blushing so fiercely it looked painful. She stared at her own untouched plate of eggs.
"It's just," Celestine plowed on, a hysterical laugh bubbling in her chest, "you have to admit, for a master huntress, you have a remarkably… stealthy… morning routine. I didn't hear a thing. One moment you were there, the next you were… conducting hydrotherapy."
A strange sound came from Prious. It was a choked, guttural noise, halfway between a cough and a strangled laugh. She kept her head down, but Celestine saw her shoulders shake once.
Encouraged, Celestine leaned forward, a genuine, goofy smile finally breaking through her embarrassment. "And for the record, if you were trying to hide, choosing a sun-drenched glade with crystal-clear water was a… a tactically unsound decision. Just, from one professional to another."
Prious finally lifted her head. The blush was still there, staining her cheeks a delightful pink, but her eyes were crinkled at the corners with suppressed amusement. She looked at Celestine, really looked at her, and the awkwardness between them seemed to melt away, replaced by a shared, ridiculous understanding.
"Noted," Prious rasped, the single word laced with a wealth of feeling.
Celestine grinned, picking up her fork. "Good. Now, eat your eggs before they get cold. And tomorrow, if you feel the need for an early morning swim, maybe just leave a note. Or a trail of breadcrumbs. Something a little less… dramatic than vanishing into the mist."
Prious gave another one of those tiny, almost-smiles and finally picked up her own fork. The silence that fell between them now was comfortable, warm, and filled with the unspoken promise of many more wonderfully awkward adventures to come.
Chapter 10: Confessions to a Canine
The walk home from Oakhaven felt entirely different from the one the day before. The memory of the awkward breakfast with Prious was no longer a cringe-inducing brand, but a warm, private ember in her chest. She found herself smiling at nothing, the ghost of Prious's tiny, blushing smile dancing in her mind's eye. They'd said a stilted but not unfriendly goodbye at the village gate, a simple nod that held more meaning than a thousand words.
"See you around, Prious," Celestine had said.
A nod. A flicker of those golden eyes. "Stine."
Just her name, in that gravelly voice, had been enough to make her heart do a funny little flip.
She reached her cottage, the sight of its cozy, ivy-clad walls filling her with a profound sense of relief and belonging. She did a quick, habitual check of the perimeter, running her fingers over the repaired fence, scanning her restored garden for any new signs of animal-related destruction. Everything was in its place. The lavender seedlings were holding on, the chamomile was beginning to recover, and the air was sweet with the scent of damp earth and growing things. Her sanctuary was secure.
It was then, as she stood admiring the resilience of her silverleaf thistle, that she heard the familiar, soft *crunch* of a heavy footfall on the forest path.
She turned. There, at the edge of the clearing, stood the wolf. In its massive jaws was another offering, this one far more deliberate than the last. It was a beautiful, if slightly lopsided, wreath of wildflowers. Bluebells, white campion, and delicate Queen Anne's lace were clumsily but earnestly woven together. Its tail gave a hesitant, hopeful wag, scattering a few fallen petals onto the grass.
Celestine's heart swelled with an affection so fierce it stole her breath. "Well, look at you," she said, her voice soft. "A regular courtly gentleman today, aren't you?"
She walked to the door and opened it wide. "Come in, you big softie. You have impeccable timing. I have… news."
The wolf padded inside, its claws clicking softly on the wooden floor. It placed the floral wreath carefully at her feet and then sat, looking up at her with those intelligent, amber eyes, its head cocked in expectation.
Celestine busied herself for a moment, fetching a bowl of water for the wolf and putting the wreath in a place of honor on her mantelpiece, next to the previous bouquet. Then, she sat on the rug before the hearth, cross-legged, and the wolf immediately lay down, resting its great head in her lap with a contented sigh.
She took a deep breath, her fingers automatically sinking into the thick, warm fur of its neck. Where to even begin?
"So," she started, her voice a conspiratorial whisper, as if the trees themselves might be eavesdropping. "You remember that grey-haired woman from the guild? The one who smelled like trouble and looked like she could bench-press a horse? Prious?"
The wolf's ears twitched. It let out a soft *whuff*.
"Well, we… we ended up on a quest together. Can you believe it? Borin, the quartermaster, practically forced us. I was so mad! I called her a 'human lamppost' in my head." She giggled, the sound a little giddy. "But… oh, stars, it was the most bizarre day."
She launched into the story, her words tumbling out in an excited rush. "First, we had to gather sage. And let me tell you, for a master huntress, she is an absolute *catastrophe* in a garden. I've seen newborn fawns with more grace! She tried to pull up a baby plant by its roots! I had to give her a full botanical lecture right there in the meadow. And the thistle roots! Don't even get me started! She was using her dagger, and she came back with three pathetic little scraps that looked like they'd been through a war. I teased her mercilessly. I called her a bear doing needlepoint!"
She looked down at the wolf, whose eyes were half-lidded with pleasure at her petting. "And the strange thing is… she took it. She just… listened. She got this little furrow right here," Celestine tapped her own brow, "and she tried so hard. And when she finally got a decent one, I praised her, and she… she blushed. This big, terrifying warrior, blushing because I told her she'd earned a 'B-minus' in root gathering!"
Celestine felt her own cheeks grow warm recounting it. She was getting to the main event, the part that made her stomach flutter. She lowered her voice even further.
"But that's not the big news," she whispered. "Oh no. That came this morning."
The wolf's ears perked up, sensing the shift in her tone.
"I woke up, and she was gone. I saw footprints and I… I got worried. So I followed them." She paused, her fingers stilling in the wolf's fur. She took another shaky breath. "They led to a stream. A beautiful, secluded little pool. And… and she was there."
The wolf lifted its head slightly, its amber gaze fixed on her face.
"She was… bathing," Celestine breathed, the words barely audible. A hot flush swept from her chest to the roots of her hair. "And she… she turned around. And I… I saw her. All of her."
She buried her burning face in the wolf's fur for a moment, groaning in remembered mortification. "She's… she's so… *sculpted*. Like a statue of some warrior goddess. And she has these scars… silvery ones… that just make her look even more… I don't know… real? And her… her…" She made a vague, flustered gesture in front of her own chest, too embarrassed to say the word 'breasts' out loud, even to a wolf. "They were… very… impressive."
The wolf let out a low, curious whine, nuzzling her hand as if to ask, 'And then what?'
"And then I, being the pinnacle of grace and composure that I am, promptly tripped over my own feet and fell face-first into the mud on the bank." She groaned again. "I was a mud-covered, babbling idiot. I tried to tell her I was looking for mushrooms! *Mushrooms!* As if there are spotted, stream-side mushrooms that look exactly like a six-foot-tall naked woman!"
She lifted her head, meeting the wolf's gaze. The animal was watching her with an expression of such rapt, non-judgmental attention that she felt compelled to confess the rest.
"And the worst part? The very worst part?" she whispered, her eyes wide. "I couldn't look away. It was like my eyes were glued to her. She was just so… beautiful. In a very… formidable… and… wet… kind of way."
The wolf's response was to let out a soft, deep huff of air that sounded suspiciously like a sigh. It rested its chin back on her lap, its eyes soft.
"We had breakfast in the village," Celestine continued, her voice returning to a normal volume as she moved past the peak of her humiliation. "It was so awkward you could have carved it with a knife. But then I made a joke about her poor choice of bathing spots, and she… she almost laughed. I saw it! And then she smiled. It's a very small smile, but it's… it's lovely."
She fell silent for a moment, just stroking the wolf's head, her mind awhirl with the memory of Prious's blushing, almost-smiling face over a plate of eggs.
"I don't know what to do," she confessed to her canine confidant. "She's a hunter. I'm… well, I'm what I am. It's complicated. It's dangerous. And yet… I find myself wanting to see her again. To see if I can make her blush like that one more time."
The wolf lifted its head and gently nudged her hand with its wet nose, a gesture of pure, simple comfort.
Celestine smiled, a true, warm, unguarded smile. "You're a very good listener, you know that? Better than any therapist. And much fluffier." She leaned down and pressed a kiss to the top of its furry head. "Thank you for the flowers. And for not judging my terrible life choices."
They sat like that for a long time, as the afternoon light faded into evening—a vampire sharing her most vulnerable, goofy, human secrets with a werewolf who loved her enough to bring her flower wreaths. In the quiet of the cottage, with only the crackle of the fire and the wolf's steady breathing for company, Celestine felt a happiness so profound it felt like a secret of its own.