Aran walked through the woods, sun now high overhead, trickling through the leaves. He was focused on making as little noise as possible, while still making good time. He had no illusions he could sneak around like… Well like others could, but he hoped he could avoid drawing the attention of anything out here, as long as he didn’t get too close. Very early on in this trek, he’d noticed claw marks on some of the trees. Big ones. It could be bears, or something worse. Either way, he had no desire to find out, so he’d been moving extra quietly since he’d begun seeing them.

The woods here were quiet, and he’d encountered no roads, or anything resembling human civilization. He’d taken to a zig-zag pattern for his path, to hopefully increase his chances of seeing any signs, moving in wide arcs east and west as he continued south. After several hours of this, most of it spent in a sort of half-crouching walk, he stopped to take a break. He still wasn’t hungry, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d actually eaten, but his thighs were getting sore from the constant pose. He checked the area, moving in a circle about 20 feet wide, but found no sign of any other creatures, and no claw marks.

Satisfied, he sat, resting against the trunk of a large pine. The sun peeked through a large gap in the forest ceiling, spilling onto him and warming him pleasantly. He closed his eyes, basking in the quiet serenity of the forest. He sighed, the soft grass and sun warmed tree putting him at ease. He found himself drifting off, and didn’t fight it. He’d just take a short nap, then keep on searching.

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It had stopped moving. It appeared to be sleeping, but that could just as easily be a trap. The creatures of this place were crafty, although this one appeared to be alone. Bu’umo had alerted her the moment something had entered their territory, though he’d been unable to define what, exactly. She glanced down, seeing his reassuring form hidden in the brush below her. Bu’umo did not communicate with words, exactly, but he knew what a human was. Which was why it was so concerning he had not called this thing one.

She took a deep breath, catching the scent of the wood, Bu’umo’s scent wafting up to her below. She could smell the small birds nest, a few trees over, left fallow, and beginning to decay; the burrowing creature beneath the ground, hibernating peacefully.

She didn’t smell human.

Human’s smelled of dirt, sweat, fear and death. Whatever this creature was, he smelled… warm. Like sunlight just before dusk. She shook her head. That didn’t make sense. Taking another breath, she focused. She could smell the tang of blood, the crisp smell of mana muddled beneath, but still there. And behind it all, another smell, one she couldn’t place. Still, they’d been following this one all afternoon, the fact that the smell of mana lingered was concerning, only powerful magic would have left such a strong remnant.

Bu’umo agreed, feelings of caution and patience wafting over their mind-bridge. She assented. The creature did not seem overly dangerous, but it had strayed too far into their territory. The human tongue was foreign to her, but there were ways around that if speech was needed.

Her tail flicked, as anticipation thrilled through her. She stood, limb swaying softly beneath, and leapt, landing gracefully between the roots of a tree without a sound. Her ears twitched, alert for any change in the sleeping form’s breathing. She waited a moment, but it didn’t move. She passed through the brush between them, stepping out into the small clearing beneath the tree, into full view, waiting.

The creature still slept.

She furrowed her brows, releasing a breath, and her presence. Yet still, it slept. Did it not detect her even now? Or was it so strong it didn’t care? She hesitantly stepped closer, even more cautious. She was close enough now that its smell was pervasive, overpowering the smells of the forest. His smell, she corrected. She could definitely smell maleness, this close. She stepped closer, almost upon him now. He wore several layers of clothing, though they appeared loose fitting, and not suited to combat, but definitely of human make.

As she looked closer, she had to admit he looked quite different from the other humans. The strange coloration of the skin, like ashes the morning after a fire. And he didn’t even try to conceal his presence, unlike the other humans she’d found bumbling about the forest. Although this close, she could feel the warmth radiating from him, in regular pulses, and she could practically see the mana within him, it was so potent. She took a step closer, crouching over his prone form.

The smell from before was so strong now. Closing her eyes, she let it wash over her. It was strangely comforting, and she let out a sigh. Opening her eyes, she looked back down.

Bright green eyes stared back at her, blinking slowly.

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Aran stared up, eyes wide. The strange creature looming over him cocked its head, features hidden behind a mask. His mind lethargic, slowly caught up to the situation. He’d fallen asleep under the tree, sunlight warming him. Glancing up, the sun was beginning to set. So this wasn’t a dream. He rolled to the side, popping up to his feet, assuming what he hoped was a threatening pose.

The creature hopped back, crouching, arms up displaying some vicious looking nails. Aran blinked, focusing on the creature before him. And… stopped. A simple brown sleeveless shirt, and cutoff pants were all it wore, besides the featureless mask covering its face. He considered for a moment if he was still dreaming. Under the clothing was skin as pale as snow, with short white fur along the forearms and shins. But what rooted him, was the thick furred bushy white tale, and the twin triangles of distinctly animalistic ears atop its head. A mane of shaggy white hair draped around the mask and over what he could now see was a “her”, shoulders.

“Uh.” Was all he could say, standing in this strange stand-off. He stood straight, scratching his head. Surely this was a dream, then. Because that was most definitely a fox girl. Or… maybe a wolf? Evil elves notwithstanding, this was far outside the realm of what he considered possible. A strange rasping sound broke him out of his thoughts, back to the being in front of him.

She was still crouched slightly, but her head had tilted up slightly, in slightly jerking motions. He suddenly realized she was sniffing. He almost laughed at the absurdity, were it not for the very dangerous looking nails she was sporting. He continued to stare until she seemed to have smelled her fill, panning her shadowed gaze back to him. The mask obscured even her eyes, leaving him unsure of the look she leveled at him. Still, she hadn’t attacked yet. He eyed her cautiously, ready for any sign of aggression.

“So, uh, do you speak English?” He tried, feeling a bit foolish.

Her head cocked, still silently staring at him.

“Uh. Did you… want something?” He chuckled quietly. This is ridiculous. I’ve got to be dreaming. “Can you speak? Or understand me at all?” He said, miming hearing something with a hand cupped to his ear. The strange ears atop her head twitched, but still, nothing.

“Er. Well, I’m Aran. Aran!” He said, pointing to himself. He then pointed at her. “And you are…?” Her tail swept across the grass, the sound like soft sheets out to dry.

“Naya.”

He blinked. Years of tv had prepared him for a soft, sweet voice, but hers was surprisingly deep, though still soft. Still, she’d answered! Progress!

“Okay, uh, what…” He stopped himself. Probably rude to ask what someone is. “Why were you standing over me while I slept? You’re not trying to kill me, so what do you want?”

She seemed to struggle for a moment before replying. “These forest… mine. You smell… different.”

“Uh, I smell? Sorry, I don’t know when my last bath was…” He shook his head. “Wait, this forest is yours? What do you mean? Where did you come from?”

She shook her head. “Too fast. Your tongue… difficult.” She stepped forward, closing the gap between them. Aran immediately put his hands up, ready for the attack. She stopped as soon as he did so, putting her hands up. “No, no fight. Share.”

Aran stared at her, unmoving. She moved closer, within arms reach now, hands still up. “No fight.” She reached out, touching his hands, making him jerk away. “No fight,” she repeated, voice placating. She reached for his hands, grasping them and intertwining her fingers. “Share,” she said, meeting his gaze with what he now saw were amber eyes behind the mask.

He felt mana in her grasp, beckoning him. He allowed a sliver of his own to travel down his arms, a tendril reaching out to her. When they met, his mind exploded.