The next few weeks passed without event, surprisingly. It was so uneventful they were all growing suspicious, nights gathered around the campfire accompanied by nervous jokes and forced laughter. Pevarin had become even more brooding and pensive as the days passed, barely even speaking to Selara except when necessary. He could tell there was a long history there between them, the way she studied him with worry. She was his pupil and he, her Herun. After she made her way to the Final Breath, however that had happened, he was sure that Pevarin had served as a father figure to her. It happened all the time in stories and made plenty of sense. He was her only family, and he was hard dono-walling her.

Broaching the subject was another matter entirely. His asking Egan about what he did was one thing, approaching a sensitive topic like that needed the touch of someone with actual social skills. It also probably required him to have a one-on-one conversation with Selara, and that had never actually been achieved beyond a few brief words. If Egan wasn’t around, it simply seemed impossible. She was intimidating even without her beauty. There was a fierceness about her that went beyond RBF. They had been together for near on a month now and she was just an enigma to him. They all were, really. A part of him was saddened by that, but it was no different than what he was used to. Being alone even when among other people was his basic state of being.

The route they were taking was rather out of the way, and they had gone through various terrains as they made their way across Peratha. They kept to themselves mostly, and Pevarin was an extremely competent scout, identifying others at impossible distances. He longed for a nice bed, even if it was on a hard wooden frame it would beat sleeping on the grass or on stone. He hadn’t much else to eat besides plain, slightly charred wild game. Chips were the furthest thing from his mind, but he had lost an incredible amount of weight. His stamina had increased significantly, and his daily runs were now refreshing rather than exhausting. It turned out that not drinking copious amounts of soda, exercising, and forced intermittent fasting evaporated fat. He had also put on some muscle, though his face was a little scraggly these days.

They decided to retire early for the day, the sun still high in the sky as they gathered around a clearing in a woods. They had passed a small stream on the way in, and he was determined to get a few deep pulls of his waterskin (which Pevarin had surprisingly taught him how to craft, the man for once talking to him) and then refill it for the travels ahead.

“Alright...you guys, uh, you guys good?” he asked, awkwardly standing around as they started to set up camp. He felt useless just standing there as they did everything. He always hated that, honestly. It reminded him of helping his dad out with the house, and those memories were not fond ones.

“Yes, Etelendi. Be about your business if you have any, but-”

“Don’t go far. Yeah, I gotcha. I’m just gonna go check out that little stream we saw earlier, get some hydration in me. Egan, you coming?”

“No, he’s not,” said Selara, shutting Egan down before he could even speak.

“I’m not? Why’s that, milady?” said Egan, scratching his head in confusion. Selara walked over and dumped a few of her things into his arms and pointed towards Pevarin.

“Help him establish camp here. I’ll go with the Outlander.”

“Um, you don’t really need to do that,” he said awkwardly, shifting his feet and putting a hand behind his head. “I think I can handle getting a drink. Pevarin said the woods would be pretty safe, right?”

“Yes, this part of the country is rather tame. The beasts here are not accustomed to people and shall trouble us not. Even if they did, none are deadly enough to raise concern.”

“Regardless,” she said, her tone indicating what she thought of that statement, “I’d rather make certain that he reaches our destination in one piece. We’ve gone through too much to lose him to something preventable.”

Pevarin shrugged, “As you wish,” he said, turning to continue his work. Egan made a face of displeasure as he grumbled and began to work as well, and Selara turned to him, and he moved his eyes off of her face immediately, trying his best not to look at any part of her body that might cause him to betray his thoughts.

“Really, I think I’ll be good. You don’t need to come,” he said, looking at the ground.

“Why do you not want me to come with you so badly?” she asked slowly, suspicious. Egan looked back at them, grinning behind Selara. His eyes whispered the threat of the bomb he could drop, and Zach pleaded with him not to grief.

Egan stayed silent, blessedly, and Zach said, “I just, uh, would rather a woman not be around because I have to, you know...”

She blinked, “Piss? That’s all? Honestly, do you think I’ve never seen a man’s tool before?”

He spluttered as he tried to recover, she patiently waiting for him to remember how to speak English, “I mean, I didn’t--like, um...” he said, extremely uncomfortable. She just never let go of you with her eyes once she had her attention on you.

She sighed, walking off into the trees, saying, “Come, we’re wasting time.”

He looked back at the others, Egan snickering silently, Pevarin paying them no mind. She was already a good distance away, and he sighed inwardly as he jogged after her. He tried not to look at her from behind too much, but good lord the woman had a body on her. It made sense, with her lifestyle, but it was incredibly difficult not to ogle her. Was it creepier not to ogle a woman because you were trying to respect her as a person and not as an object, or to actually just look at her and accept that you were attracted to her, and just try not to overdo it? Probably the second, but again, he was a cringe-no-life gamer, so doing the second was beyond his capabilities.

They reached the stream, Selara already crouching down and splashing her face with the water. He walked a little further downstream, maintaining COVID distance and then some from her, and she glanced at him curiously but said nothing. He crouched down too, reaching his hands toward the water, then almost jumping in surprise. His hair was a little out of sorts, but he looked...different. He turned his head to get different angles, just to make sure it was really him. He didn’t dare say it or even put it into thought, but when he actually looked at himself now, he was actually kind of handsome. No, that was copium like a motherfucker. He was a loser. Hero of Peratha? He was Zachary, the nerd, the gamer, the dork. He literally was not capable of being attractive. He shook his head, smiling to himself. He just wanted to think that he was making progress, but that was impossible. No matter how far he went, how far he had come, that would never change. He’d always be that quiet kid in the corner that everyone thought would eventually shoot up the school, that girls would never even give the time of day if they had a clock on their forehead.

“What are you smiling about?” said Selara, waking him from his small foray into self-deprecation, “And why the hell did you walk all the way over there?”

“Um, nothing,” he said, maintaining his smile, though out of nervousness more than anything, “I’m just uh—I don’t know. I figured you would want space.”

“Did I say that?” she said seriously.

“No, but, I just didn’t want to like, invade your space or anything,” he said, turning his face back to the stream. Damned if you do, damned if you don’t.

“You know,” she said, standing up, though he refused to look at her, and he realized in alarm that she was walking towards him, “We’ve been traveling together near on a month now and you avoid me as if I’m diseased. Have I done something to offend you?” she said, invading his space, and he stepped back nervously as she stalked closer.

“No! No, I just-,” he said, panicking. Why was she so upset? Wait, she was upset? He forced himself to look at her. Actually, really, look at her. She was angry, as if he had slapped her across the face.

“You just what?” she said, pushing him in the chest, and he stumbled back a bit. “You think you’re better than me? You need us just as much as we need you, Outlander.”

Outlander. Outlander. Outlander, Outlander, Outlander.

His fucking name was Zach. Not Etelendi. Not Outlander. Zach.

She made a face of shock, and he realized with a start that he had said that last part out loud. His nails were biting into his fists, and his blood was running hot and loud in his ears. How did she make him so angry so quickly?

“I just want you to treat me like a person,” he said, surprisingly calm, letting the momentary flood of anger recede. “That’s all. You do that, and we’re good.” He stuck out his hand to her, and she eyed it dubiously. He felt awkward doing it, but it was the thing to do. It just felt right. “Got it?”

She took his hand, hers small and supple, and shook it. He made the mistake of briefly connecting his eyes with hers, and he looked away hurriedly and let go. “That’s fair. What’s even fairer is if you do the same,” she said.

“What do you mean?” he said, genuinely confused.

“You never talk to me except when Egan is around,” she said, her face reddening for the briefest of instants before determination lit her eyes up. “If we’re going to fight together eventually, I need to be able to trust you. I can’t trust you if I don’t know you.”

What was there to know? It’s not like they could relate really. He had grown up privileged and she had had to fight for her life, he assumed at least. It would be difficult to explain what he did for fun or anything. What would they even talk about?

“Alright. I can do that,” he said, smiling. Pleasure fluttered throughout his body, intoxicating and overwhelming as she returned the smile. That was not what he had intended to say, but God, she was just gorgeous. The way the sun hit her in the woods, filtered by the loose canopy of trees, her green eyes dazzling, the quiet gurgle of the stream next to them. Everything contributed to him understanding that he had just fucked up majorly. He turned abruptly, wanting to scream though he knew he couldn’t. Well, he could, but that would be difficult to explain.

What he had just felt a few moments ago was something he had experienced only twice before. He was in love with her. How was that even possible?

“Zach?” she said, equal parts concerned and irritated. Man, the way she said his name almost sent him flying.

“Yeah, I’m good. I’m just, uh, gonna take that piss,” he said, thinking on his feet. “If you don’t mind.”

“Ah,” she said, although she made no attempt to leave the area. She didn’t expect him to just whip out his dick and unload in front of her, right? What the actual hell was the social decorum of this world?

“Uh, could you like not...be here, when I do that?”

“Just do it,” she said, nonplussed, “I won’t look.”

“You won’t look,” he repeated slowly. “I’m supposed to just take your word on that?”

“Why would I look?” she said innocently.

“Ok,” he said, turning around, putting a finger to his chin as he thought, “how about this. What if you were pi—relieving yourself, and I just stood there and said, ‘Oh no, it’s fine. I won’t look’.”

“Well, that’s different,” she said, “For one, I don’t have the pleasure of using a,” she gestured uselessly, “a handle. Women have to do it in a very revealing manner. You can do it discreetly.”

“There is literally nothing discreet about a guy peeing,” he said in disbelief, “You can see a damn yellow arc of pee flying out of me. Look, this is stupid—I just don’t want you to watch me pee.”

“I told you I wasn’t going to look!”

“And I don’t fucking believe you.”

She giggled, and another bolt of pleasure shot through him, bringing a smile to his face and filling his head with oxytocin. She looked so different from the fierce woman he had known her as that it was insane to think they were the same person. “Alright, fine. I’ll leave you to it,” she said, walking away and back into the trees. He didn’t know what to do now, since he had used it as an excuse. He supposed he could actually just empty himself. Now that he thought about it, he did need to go pee. It still felt a bit strange just whipping it out and going wherever he wanted. Toilets were of course not an amenity that they could particularly afford on the road, nor had he actually seen one as of yet. They were likely only a luxury the nobility could afford, and he wasn’t sure the requisite plumbing techniques had made it to this world yet at this point in time. Speaking of, when exactly does that become a priority in a world’s timeline? He supposed that better hygiene and sanitizing techniques would lead to a slower proliferation of disease and the prevention of many kinds of infections and bacterial growth in general. It was actually kind of interesting now that he thought about it. He wondered-

“Oh? A traveler in these woods? And, what’s this?” Air was displaced as the force of a Hoover Extract Pressure Pro vacuum nearly pulled him towards the source, and he whirled around to see what that origin actually was. “You’ve not the smell of this world. That is...surprising, even given the way you carry yourself.”

A dragon stood before him. A dragon. Holy—a goddamned, real-life, not CGI dragon. Now, there were a number of reactions that one should probably have when actually confronting a mythical creature of such renown in person. Fear would be the most likely, and the most understandable. Some might immediately fall to their knees in reverence, overcome with awe at the sight of the majestic creature. Others might even plead for the dragon to let them serve it. After all, they were known to hoard riches that adventurers would lust after for all time. All appropriate.

He busted out laughing, his Willy Free indeed, tiny droplets of urine dancing in the filtered sunlight, and said, “Yooooo,”. Maybe he had finally snapped. There was an intense feeling of dissociation from the encounter itself. His mind was likely scrambling to acclimate to the sudden change of fortune. What was it that Pevarin said? That was right, he had said that the beasts of these woods were not capable of harming him, nor were inclined to. Typical ironic foreshadowing—what a cheap trick. How idea-starved was the person writing the script for his life right now? The simple fact of the matter was that if the dragon willed it, he would be dead before he could say, “Eragon was an affront to your species,”. That was incredible. Eragon didn’t actually exist in this world. He could at least die knowing that one universe was safe from that terrible adaptation. Now maybe there was a universe where George R.R. Martin didn’t die before writing Winds-

The dragon raised his front right leg, stomping the ground with such force that he was knocked to his feet, the stream nearby shooting into the air and spilling over him. “You will show me respect, wh-”

“Whelp. Yeah, I know. I’m a dragon slayer by trade. I know all about how your kind operates,” he said, coming to his feet. The beast opened his maw ajar, then closed it, his lips upturning along his snout in a smile. The thing was massive, so massive that it was baffling how it had snuck up on him. Somehow he felt confident that he would be in no danger from it. Perhaps it was due to his recently bolstered spirits after his small chat with Selara. Maybe he really believed he did have plot armor. Whatever it was, the result was the same—this thing was his bitch. He walked up to it and kicked one of its claws, smiling back. “Not bad. Hard as adamantium, eh? Bet you could pierce a man clean through with that.”

He imagined that the creature would be shell-shocked, flabbergasted, bamboozled, hoodwinked, led astray, but instead it only retained that eerie smile. “You are proving very interesting indeed.” Its ears shifted slightly, and it flicked its eyes up in annoyance. “But it seems your companion has finally taken notice of your extended break. I’d tuck that tool of yours back in if I was you. Until next time, Hero.” He expected the dragon to flap its magnificent wings and break through the canopy in one move, but it turned inward on itself and winked out of sight. Just as suddenly as it had arrived, it vanished.

He turned around, tapping the last few drops of pee out and sliding his Little Zach back into his pants. Maybe this was why nobody ever wrote scenes of routine bodily tasks. It just made the character seem fucking stupid. Selara came back into view, slowing as she surveyed the damage, then turning her eyes to him, intense as ever.

“What happened?” she asked, walking to the stream, the riverbed dry in spots where the water had adjusted its path to rejoin itself.

“So...this world has dragons?” he said, and for the very first time since he met her, fear flashed in her eyes.