They trudged through thickets of tough vines. The forest would soon be pitch-black, distant wolves’ howls chilling the night. He lounged on Salia’s shoulder, ignoring the bumpiness, and swung Razor when the boughs got too close.

“I’m not a hedge trimmer.”

You wanted to cut shit—it’s your lucky day.

She growled.

Jack had embraced the silence—a comfort obtained through understanding—but a question still weighed on him.

“Back at the witch’s place,” he said, “what were you about to say?”

“I…” Salia stammered, heat radiating from her cheeks. “‘The one with whose heart you’ve connected’, right? They must be a pretty special person.”

A masterful subject change. Eight out of ten, at least, but she lost points for hesitation. He couldn’t help but smirk and shake his head. Since they had plenty of journey ahead of them, he figured he’d bite.

“Yeah,” he said. “Guess my friends came to get me.”

“They sound like good friends.” As she smiled, he felt the muscles twitch. “I hope you find each other.”

“Me too.” His heart thumping, he leaned closer to her. “Glad I have you, though.”

Razor gagged.

“Me too,” said Salia. She trailed off with a contented giggle.

What was… Did she think he’d forgotten because of some little aside? Curiosity erupted in his gut.

She’d trailed off. Right before Esmeralda had sneered about ‘that’, she’d stammered and stuttered and blushed. But what was ‘that’? What had she been trying to force out?

It couldn’t be what he thought, could it?

“Oh, please,” said Razor, her tone scathing. “Even if that was the case, what would you do about it, hmm? You two aren’t even remotely the same. One day soon you’ll return to your time, and even if you don’t, eventually you’ll die and leave her all alone. What’s the point?

“Why are you so obsessed with her when you should be focused on going home?”

He stiffened. ‘It’s about how you get there’, right?

“This is different. You’re ignoring the real objective while indulging in some B-grade romantic side quest!”

I don’t think it is. Back then, I’d have thought the same as you—that since it’s destined to end, why bother starting? Why offer my soul to be broken?

But everything ends eventually. I’m doing what I can to get back, so why can’t I enjoy the journey? Just ‘cause there’s no point, that don't make it meaningless.

Sighing, Razor retreated to his subconscious.

They’d entered another clearing during his dialogue. This was smaller than the last, with a sparser canopy, stars visible through the gaps. Owls hooted as wind disturbed bracts, and a frigidity settled in the air. Salia sat against an oak.

Sliding down her shoulder, he hopped to the ground. She slumped to the side, limbs spread wide, already muttering to herself. He chuckled. It had been a long trek, and he couldn’t stave off the pang of guilt. Despite his legs working fine, she’d been carrying him everywhere.

This rest was deserved.

Stretching, he arched his back. Question time could resume tomorrow.

***

He woke curled against Salia’s thigh, her hand blanketing and filling him with warmth no cold could touch. Pushing her fingers aside, he emerged, surveying the area. It was bright, squirrels flitting about saplings and nibbling nuts. Birds sang while perched on high branches.

He regarded Salia. She still slept, rolling her shoulders and grunting. Her lips flickered up, contented, her eyelids shifting.

His stomach gurgled. Maybe he should forage for breakfast while she snoozed.

She’d sleep a week before he found enough to feed her.

Reaching into his pocket, he withdrew a bunch of bright red berries he’d plucked, scrutinising them. He’d always been more interested in football than geography or biology. What was edible? What would kill him? Though the squirrels’ nuts appeared safe, he had no idea which tree they came from.

He missed his microwave, and supermarket food with clearly labelled ingredients.

Rustling.

Beyond the space, something moved. Something massive. Timber shook in its wake, the earth undulating as it grew closer.

Glancing at Salia, Jack sprang up and gripped Razor’s hilt. He staggered. She lay undisturbed.

Setting his jaw, he stood with his back to her, facing the ruckus. His heart battered his ribcage.

In a shower of fronds and needles, another Giant emerged.

As tall as Salia with twice the bulk, his features were ridged and craggy, a mesh of scars and a bulbous, lumpy nose dominating his face. He wore a loincloth stained brown, and wielded a seedling like a club.

Jack sighed. “I’m so glad you’re not my first.”

“Lunch?” The Giant plucked him by the shirt, showing him the slimy cave within a wide-open maw.

Moisture fled his tongue. Of course the next one he met was the exact opposite of Salia. The kind who peered at him and saw a sign that said ‘free sample’.

Whipping Razor from her sheath, he sliced the Giant’s wrist. Blood spurted. It drenched him, invading his mouth and crawling up his nostrils. He coughed and sputtered as he dropped, his diaphragm heaving.

The Giant yelped. Then, he glared at Jack, grinding his teeth. Jack thudded down, rolling on his shoulder, and popped up to behold the seedling moments from turning him into a greasy smear on the turf.

Ice gripped him.

He danced aside, twigs scratching his forehead. The air shifted. With a mighty leap, he avoided the gargantuan hand swatting at him, landing awkwardly on his hip.

Scowling, the Giant stepped toward him. “Annoying.”

“Could say the same, mate,” said Jack, panting.

“Crag!” came a harsh voice. “Stop this right now!”

Jack gazed up at Salia, who glowered at the other giant.

***

After contorting some rowans into a shelter, Lydia slept in a small copse. It was as basic as they came, not to mention uncomfortable, but it sufficed.

She woke to the sound of birds. These ended up roasted, though a lack of seasoning made her feel like she was eating rubber, and she set out to continue her mission.

So many trees.

It was nothing but trees, twenty-four seven, the exclusive scoop. Some were skinny, some thick; some had long, sinuous limbs and others had stubby ones. Despite these differences, they all blended into one homogenous mass of tree.

How was she supposed to uncover any clues?

Where there was enough room, she flew, scouting for any sign of passage.

She didn’t search long.

Across a stream lay the biggest footprint she’d ever seen. Did it even qualify? It was the size of a river barge, for crying out loud!

Even so, it looked human. Colossal, yes, but it had to be a person’s, which meant this likely belonged to the Giant she’d been hearing about. The one Jack had been witnessed with.

This was a lead.

She followed the trail, observing the direction of each mark, and spent hours staring at the soil. In some places, the cover was so dense she had to walk.

On the dirt.

Like a peasant!

Brushing off the indignity, she pressed on, noticing several patches of chaos and fallen lumber. Perhaps she could keep her sanity if she treated this like an adventure. She was technically travelling a foreign land lousy with myth and wonder, so even though she needed focus, she relented.

She couldn’t recover Jack from a padded cell.

Suddenly, the clearing she came to, though dull, exploded alive in as many different shades as there were leaves, a mess of humongous tracks criss-crossing the lumpy earth. Animals flitted and chittered, the air thick with their scent. The canopy here was high and thin, so she took flight, analysing the tracks. These had no pattern within the grove, but two sets exited to the north.

Hadn’t there only been one before?

Goosebumps rose up her legs, another smell pressing into her sinuses. It was all too familiar.

Blood.

There was a brown stain next to a fallen hardwood, a dried puddle that could have fed half of Nightcorp. Clearly, it wasn’t recent, but it couldn’t be too old, either; it wasn’t dark enough.

Panic stabbed her gut. Was this related to the destruction she’d spotted? First, entire portions of woods were levelled, then some sort of disagreement ended with two Giants sauntering away, possibly together. Clenching a fist, she searched for smaller prints. There were plenty, which she assumed were Jack’s.

But they didn’t depart.

Had his new ‘friend’ finally had enough? She couldn’t blame them; he was a fool. Still, he was her fool, so she wouldn’t tolerate anyone hurting him.

With expanded senses, she scanned for signs of a body. Nothing. She hurried away, tracing the prints that continued. That had been too much blood for one person, so it had likely come from one of the Giants. This didn’t mean he wasn’t in danger, but she could assume he’d survived. He usually did.

Despite this, a burning stone seared through her stomach. She was so focused on her quarry she couldn’t discern the other tracks beside them, until she heard muttering before her.

Stiffening, she touched down. The narrow trail was overgrown with shrubs, most torn or crushed, the smell of chlorophyll rising. Twenty feet away stood four men—each with a fine black cloak and a sword or spear—conferring next to another footprint. One sighted her and waved.

“Ho there!” he said, striding toward her. “Strange clothes for travelling, don’t you think?”

As he approached, she gained a better view: he was a foot taller than her, but lean, with soft brown hair and a hooked nose. A wooden spear hung from his back, a dagger from his belt.

His companions continued inspecting the tread. Acid flooded her throat, like she’d swallowed a dump-truck full of vinegar.

“What about you?” she said. “Are you tracking something?”

“Yeah.” He brandished his spear, his guise darkening. “You.”

***

Apparently, Salia and Crag knew each other.

Jack wasn’t complaining, given that connection had saved him from being the special offer on the one-line menu of Crag’s Bar & Grill, but their relationship had become clear when both crossed their arms and turned away from each other, huffing. The atmosphere grew dark and heavy.

Salia had taken Jack to a nearby stream, where he washed, then set out to find enough fruit and nuts to sate her appetite. Returning to the clearing, he spied Crag resting against a tree. It creaked under his weight. He munched on another one, riveted by the sky.

“Crag, right?” said Jack, approaching.

“Clear off, tiny.” Tossing away the stump he’d been gnawing on, Crag sulked.

Rude, thought Jack.

“Imagine your steak starts talking to you—how would you react?”

I prefer my food a bit deader, thanks.

“Don’t be like that,” he said. “What happened between you two, anyway?”

“Salia don’t want Crag,” he growled, “Crag don’t need Salia!”

Well. If that wasn’t a romantic attachment, he’d be going home to the Ritz. A cursed idea formed in his brain, and he smirked, his heart racing. Razor had been right. Salia had grown attached to him, but he was going to take off, probably soon, and she’d be alone.

He didn’t want that.

“What do you say we fix it?” said Jack, grinning. Hopefully it masked his stomach’s fluttering.

Crag raised an eyebrow. “Whaddya mean, ‘fix it’?”

“I mean we clear the slate. Redo your first meeting and remind her of…” — With a strained expression, he gestured at him — “whatever she saw in you in the first place.”

“Why you help me?”

“Let’s just say I’m interested in Salia’s happiness, and it ain’t with me.”

“Crag can still throw rocks?”

“I—I don’t…” He stuttered. “Probably!”

With a cheer, Crag stood, gesticulating.

Razor guffawed.

Shut up! Isn’t this what you wanted?

“Actually, I want you to run away and find Lydia, but this is certainly a start.”

She’ll find me.

“A far cry from what you originally thought, don’t you think?”

Well, she’s not here for the tourism, is she?

“Now we need a scenario,” he said. “The perfect situation to relight your fire.”

Crag scratched his head and shrugged, chewing on some bark he’d peeled.

“Maybe I can help.”

Jack jumped out of his skin. He whipped around to recognise Esmeralda, the witch from the day before. She carried a gnarled staff, and wore a purple cloak with the hood drawn, shadowing her aspect.

“Where the bloody hell did you come from?” said Jack.

“I have tunnels,” she replied. “They go under the entire forest.”

He gaped. “So you’ve been following us?”

“Basically.” She shrugged. “It’s not like I have much else to do, is it? What can I do for you?”

For a second, he contemplated murder. No-one would know. Crag was there, but too engrossed with a rock to care. He calmed, though, realisation striking like lightning.

With this, he had the perfect plan.

“Do you reckon,” he said, grinning, “you could conjure me a massive slice of toast?”

***

They’d spent an hour going over the details—though keeping Crag’s attention had been like asking celebrities to stop having scandals—and everyone knew the drill, even if he'd spent most of his time telling the Giant that throwing rocks wasn’t acceptable courtship.

Jack crouched amongst the foliage, Esmeralda sitting beside him.

“This won’t work,” she said.

“It always works,” said Jack, crossing his arms. “The absent-minded student, late again, runs along on her quest! She’s about to make it, but wait! Right in front of her is a boy, and as soon as their eyes meet, they know. This is destined. Even when they collide, and the toast flies from her mouth, it doesn’t matter. He apologises for her breakfast. They start talking. And like that, it begins!

“Suddenly, he thinks everything she does is the most adorable thing in the world! She hangs onto his every word! Before long, they’re inseparable, but the world’s greatest romance has only just begun. First comes marriage. Then a shit-ton of kids. And as they pass on from this life, even though their bladders are weak, their hearts remain strong. They’re fulfilled. They had everything they ever wanted.

“That is the power of toast!”

Nodding, Esmeralda applauded. “Colour me convinced; can our Giant friend pull it off, though?”

It was simple enough: when Salia returned, Crag would meet her, breakfast hanging from his teeth. However, he’d pretend not to notice up until he bumped into her. He’d fly, and so would sparks.

Jack called it the Anime Instant Love Flag—AILF for short.

Salia arrived, eating fruit, and he waved to Crag. The brute barely clocked it, but got up anyway. Good. So far, all according to plan.

Salia considered him with bemusement as he approached.

Without looking, he shoved the toast in her face.

Jack’s jaw dropped, rage swirling in his belly. That hadn’t been the instruction!

“Look what you make me do,” said Crag.

Salia glared at him, butter dripping from her chin. “What in Damnation are you doing?”

“We fuck to make up?”

Red illuminated her skin as she trembled, her brow twitching. “Crag, get out of here.”

The other Giant stared, tears gathering.

“Now!”

He dashed off, sobbing. Flora crashed aground in his wake, animals squawking beneath his strides. Sighing, Salia rubbernecked and pouted.

Jack glimpsed aside. Esmeralda had disappeared, presumably into one of her tunnels.

“Jack?” Salia’s ascending voice pierced him. “Where are you?”

“Right here,” he said, emerging.

Noting him, she cocked her head and smiled. “What were you doing?”

“Just, y’know… staying out the way.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Did you have something to do with that?” Wiping butter away, she grimaced. “Whatever it was.”

He sweated. “No, ‘course not… did seem a bit harsh, though.”

“Did you hear him?” she said, scoffing. “That dumb brute never changes, so he needs to be told straight. Any more and he’d get in the way.”

“Of what?”

“You and me, silly.”

His heart stopped. This had to be a dream. Usually, when things like this happened to him, there were cameras hidden alongside a colourfully dressed presenter with a punchable mug. He studied her countenance, which was easy and relaxed, her hands behind her back.

Definitely a dream.

“It’s my nightmare.”

He swallowed. Though he knew what he wanted, he also had to do the right thing. “You know,” he began, “I’m gonna leave soon, and—”

“I don’t care.”

“But the happier you are now, the worse it’ll hurt.”

“So I should just deny that happiness? You’re part of my dream, Jack. Nothing lasts forever, and it’s all random, right?” Beaming, she picked him up. “So let’s enjoy it while it lasts.” She rubbed her cheek against him, and every inch of his skin tingled. He felt fluffy, or gooey, like he’d melt.

He kissed her.

Her skin was smooth and soft; a shock surged through him. Thoughtlessly, he smiled for a second. Then, the tingling turned to burning, and his throat constricted. What had he just done? Why had he done it? Surely, she’d meant something else, and now—

Massive lips flatlined his reflection, smooching his full body.

He swooned as all thoughts evacuated, replaced by warm fuzz.

He’d never felt so content.