Rosalyn screamed, whirling around, slippers blazing.

She slapped maniacally at the person behind her, hoping she could at least distract them enough so she could dart away. As long as they weren’t magic like the wizard demon. And slower than her, a human with aching muscles and short legs.

The odds weren’t good.

“My goodness, look at you,” the voice trilled out in a singsong, amused and seemingly unfazed by the slipper attack. “What are you, tiny thing?”

Rosalyn stopped her assault. It was clear this person was laughing at her, almost cooing at her like one would a playful kitten.

The demon smirked, long silky blonde hair swishing back and forth as she shook her head. She planted her fists on her shapely hips, shifting her weight to one cloven foot. Her skin was a cream colour, a stark contrast to her dark violet eyes and amethyst horns curling out between locks of hair.

“Please don’t kill me,” Rosalyn blurted, pressing the slippers together as if in prayer. “I just escaped a bunch of monsters and I just wanna get out of these woods and find someplace safe.” She internally winced at the words—they made her seem so vulnerable. She was vulnerable, as had been proven to her in this world, but appearing so was probably not the best idea against these predators.

She assumed she should treat them like predators, at least. She’d certainly felt like prey to that sadistic demon. If she’d have been able to intimidate him somehow the whole situation could have gone far differently.

Yeah this bitch is like a foot and a half taller than me, as if I could intimidate her!

“I’m not going to kill you, sweetness,” the demon cooed, reaching out and running a calloused finger down the quivering woman’s cheek. “I’ve never seen anything like you. What are you?”

Rosalyn gritted her teeth. She had a feeling this was going to come up a lot, and she was certain that it wasn’t a good thing to stick out like a sore thumb in this place. She wondered if there were any other races of humanoid creatures here, or if it was just demons. Were there other magical things? Centaurs? Fairies? Anything?

“A human,” she finally said, batting the demon’s hand away with a slipper.

Her opponent giggled and cocked her head. “I’ve never heard of a human before,” she said. “You’re so cute.”

“Cute?” Rosalyn scoffed, jutting out her chin and puffing out her chest. Normally she wouldn’t be averse to a badass chick calling her cute, but in this situation it sounded so condescending. “I’m not cute. I have a mission. So you’d better get outta my way.”

The demon giggled again, clucking her tongue. “Very cute,” she continued, as if she’d ignored everything that had just been said. “You need a bath, though. Come, come.”

Rosalyn’s jaw dropped, and she couldn’t help her cheeks flushing. Yeah, she did. She really wanted to clean herself up. But could she trust this woman? She was wandering around in the edges of the death woods sneaking up on unsuspecting travelers...should she go with her?

Video game, video game, Rosalyn reminded herself. This woman could be a quest-giving NPC, which meant that she totally should go with her. She’d been hoping for a nice, friendly village or something, a tavern where she could work for some room and board, but this might be her only option. What were the chances of meeting someone out here if it wasn’t for a storyline purpose?

“Come where?” she finally asked, and tossed her slippers down on the ground before sliding her feet back into them.

“I have a wagon just ahead,” the demon said over her shoulder. “We’ll take a ride together.”

“A ride to where?” Rosalyn asked, still not moving.

The demon stopped and turned on one hoof with a flourish. “Tiny human,” she purred, “you can come willingly, or I can make you. You need a bath and some food and water, I can smell it on you. I have those things. Come, come.” She waved impatiently.

Rosalyn swallowed hard. She’d said she wouldn’t kill her. She didn’t know if she could trust that, but maybe taking a wagon ride would save her life. Maybe it was the only way to sustenance. And a bath sounded nice. She was sick of stewing in her own piss.

“Okay,” she finally said, shuffling after the demon, but keeping her distance. “What’s your name?”

“Rhizaid,” the demon replied, gracefully extending a leg and bowing low over it, arms spread at the sides. “And do you have a name other than human?”

“I’m Rosie,” Rosalyn replied, before she could stop herself. She would normally introduce herself in person via her full name, reserving Rosie for digital connections, but even though she was speaking to what appeared to be a living, breathing, entity, her subconscious still knew and spit out her username.

Rhizaid barked a laugh. “Rhizi and Rosie, a pair we are,” she held out a hand, wiggling her thick fingers as if to entice a hand-holding session.

Rosalyn shook her head, clasping her hands together in front of her, but the demon rolled her eyes.

“Tiny and stubborn,” she quipped, and snatched one of Rosalyn’s arms.

She squealed as the demon jerked her closer, swinging her body up into her arms, bridal style. Before Rosalyn could protest with anything other than screams, Rhizaid took off running, at a speed that should have been impossible for two legs.

But it was happening, the world whipping past, mussed hair flapping around her face. She squeezed her eyes shut, but the rapid movement of the chat didn’t relieve her of the feeling of motion, so she pressed her face against Rhizaid’s chest and kept her eyes open, trying to ignore her peripheral vision. She’d never been one to get motion sickness, but fear and thirst and the bumping and jostling at a high speed with nothing keeping her from flying away but a set of arms...it was too much.

When they finally stopped, Rosalyn practically flung herself to the ground, breathing in deep lungfuls of air. “Okay, okay, okay,” she huffed. “Don’t fucking do that again.”

Rhizaid gave another one of those giggles as she sauntered over to her wagon. It wasn’t anything fancy, just a wooden box on four large metal wheels, but there was no horse or any other animal secured to the front to pull. The demon patted the seat at the front, where someone would sit to hold reins, and inclined her head.

Rosalyn’s brow furrowed, but then realized that she was supposed to sit up there. She pressed a hand over her chest to still her racing heart, and slowly approached the wagon, climbing up and sitting on the uncomfortable bench. She tried to squish to one side, unsure of how they would both fit up there.

She squeaked as the wagon groaned and shifted, realizing after a beat that Rhizaid had lifted the shafts on the front in her strong arms. She leaned against a thick loop of leather between them, and jerked the vehicle forward, walking and pulling the load as if it were nothing.

“What do you eat?” the demon asked, tone conversational and casual. “You’re not like other animals. Most don’t communicate with words.”

Rosalyn bristled a little, her knee-jerk reaction to argue that she wasn’t an animal, but reminded herself that technically she was. We’re nothing but mammals, right? “What do you have? I’m not familiar with what’s local here...what other animals have you fed?”

“I’ve got lots of things,” Rhizaid replied. “Do you eat meat? I won’t be able to leave you alone with some of my plant-eating pets if you eat meat.”

Rosalyn gripped the seat tightly as they bumped over a particularly large tree root. “I can eat meat, but I don’t have to. And I won’t...I won’t kill and eat your pets.”

“We’ll see,” the demon quipped. “You look harmless, but some creatures look harmless on purpose.”

“Yes, I attacked you with my slippers just so you would take me home and I could eat your herbivores,” Rosalyn drawled before slamming her mouth shut. She wasn’t sure if she should be sarcastic with this demon—if it would earn her some kind of awful reprimand.

To her surprise, Rhizaid threw her head back and laughed. “You definitely have a mouth, tiny thing. Where do you come from?”

“Far away.” Rosalyn didn’t know what else to say. She hadn’t known how to explain it to the last demon, nor this one. And she wasn’t even sure if she should try. What kind of existential crisis would these creatures have if they found out they were just coded into a video game? NPCs programmed to deliver lines and guide a player character through a story?

Except the last demon was aware. The thought flitted across her mind. He had been surprised that she’d respawned, reacted to her death and subsequent life. Was that coded into the narrative? If it was, that was pretty damn meta for a nineties game. She shook her head as her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth. She had more pressing shit to worry about.

“—traveled much farther than the deadlands,” Rhizaid was saying. “But not many brave the sea on the other side. There are monsters in the deep sea that make even the strongest demons quake. Some are brave or foolish enough to attempt it, but none return alive.”

“Is there something to drink nearby?” Rosalyn asked hoarsely. “Or are we close to your place?” Her mouth was so dry, especially after all of the screaming and running and panting.

Rhizaid stopped walking, pulling the shafts until one of the wagon wheels sat in a dip in the trail. At her offered hand, Rosalyn took it and jumped down to the ground, her sore legs groaning at the motion. She was really going to have to build up some muscle in her body if she was going to survive this place.

Another fleeting thought whizzed through her brain, asking whether or not she’d lose that progress if she died and respawned. If even after training and buffing herself up she’d spawn with her same noodle arms and squishy thigh muscles, crying and panting as she ran through the forest.

She gritted her teeth, shoving that away. Again, more pressing matters. Like thirst. Like survival in the now.

Rhizaid unhooked a small metal clasp holding the doors on the back of the wagon shut. “I’ve got jugs of all kinds of drink back here,” she said. “You smell mostly like water so I assume that’s what you need, yes?” She took a step back, and motioned for Rosalyn to climb up.

She pressed her hands against the edge and heaved her body up into the box, squinting to see in the dim corners of the space. There were shelves everywhere with various crates and jars. At the far end were a myriad of jugs, presumably the ones that her demon guide had been talking about. They seemed to be labelled, but the handwritten scrawl on them was nonsensical to her. It didn’t even look like symbols or letters, just squiggles.

Rosalyn shook her head and began to turn around. “I don’t know which one is wat...er...” She trailed off when she caught a specific jar next to her on one of the side shelves with what looked like an eyeball floating in it. Another next to it held a rat-like critter that scrabbled at the inside of the glass, its eyes wide with fear as it seemed to plead with her. Next to that, a clawed hand, all shrivelled up like it had been pickled, and she had to swallow back bile in the back of her throat as dread washed over her like a tidal wave.

I’m a fucking moron, she thought, before the doors slammed shut behind her with the finality of a coffin lid.