Caspian stepped out of the shadows. He looked disheveled with a twig sticking out of his black hair, and his obsidian scales still pulsing a dull, angry orange. He stopped a few feet away, his tail lashing behind him like a whip.
"I am not a servant," he rumbled, his voice low and vibrating with a mix of shame and stubbornness.
Hana didn't stand up. She stayed low, her eyes cold. Who knew what the dragon planned to do?
"Then why are you here?" She asked.
"The forest is dangerous," he snapped, stepping closer until his heat began to dry the water on her skin. "I will not have my mate killed by a stray wolf because she was too stubborn to wait for protection."
"I do not need protection from someone who won't follow a simple order," Hana said. Then slowly, she stood up, and the water dripped from her fingertips. "In my world, if you didn't pull your weight, you were left behind. I don't care if you're a king or a god. If you're with me, you do what needs to be done. If not, stay on your mountain and out of my way."
Caspian flinched as if she'd struck him. He looked down at her—this small, fragile female who looked at him like he was a disappointment. The bond between them hummed, a heavy, magnetic throb that made his predatory instincts scream to claim her, to make her submit.
But he did not move. He couldn't.
"The water," he grumbled, avoiding her eyes. "Give me the gourd. I shall get it."
Hana watched him for a long beat, measuring his sincerity. Finally, she handed him the hollowed-out shell she had picked up on the way to carry the water.
"Hurry up," she said, turning back toward the clearing. "The fox's tail won't wait for your ego to finish bruising."
Caspian dipped the gourd into the stream with a violent splash. He hated the pink fox. He hated the way Hana spoke to him. But as he followed her back through the bush, his tail hovering protectively near her lower back, he knew one thing was certain.
He wasn't going anywhere. Even if she treated him like a beast of burden, he was her beast. And god help the fox if he tried to take advantage of his vulnerability towards his mate.
They returned to the clearing to find Raiden exactly where they'd left him, though his posture had shifted. He was resting against the tree roots, one leg drawn up to expose his pale, slender calf, his eight healthy pink tails fanned out like a plush throne.
As soon as Hana broke through the bush, his eyes went wide and watery again, resuming the fragility.
"Great Female... you're back," he exhaled, his voice a soft, airy thing.
He looked at Caspian, who was stomping behind her with the water gourd, and a flash of pure, concentrated mischief crossed the fox's face.
"And you brought the Fire King. I was so worried his pride would keep him from helping a poor, broken thing like me."
Caspian's throat emitted a low, orange warning light, ready to spit out fire at any moment. "Drink your water and die quietly, scavenger."
Hana didn't even look at them or listen to their bickering. She knelt by Raiden's side, her fingers immediately going to the mangled ninth tail. It was starting to smell—a sharp, metallic rot that meant time was running out.
Then, Hana said, "Raiden, if you bite me, I'll let Caspian burn you."
Caspian felt proud of that and almost wished for Raiden to bite Hana even by a slight graze, so he could legally burn him.
"Caspian, hold his shoulders," she ordered, her voice flat and devoid of any real care.
He dropped the gourd with a heavy thud, splashing the fox's feet, and moved behind Raiden.
He pinned the fox down, his massive, clawed hands digging into his pale shoulders with unnecessary force.
"With pleasure," Caspian rumbled.
Raiden let out a small, pained whimper—half real, half theatrical—and leaned his head back against Caspian's stone-hard chest.
"Oh, he's so strong... It's a bit much for a delicate fox like me, don't you think, Great Female?"
Hana ignored the commentary. She pulled out the Moon-Glow Moss she had scraped from the rocks near the stream. It pulsed with a faint, cool green light. Using her flint shard, she began to cut away the blackened, dead tissue from the base of the ninth tail.
Raiden's body buckled. His fingers clawed into the dirt, and his breath came in sharp, jagged hitches due to the pain. "H-Hana—"
"Don't move," she hissed.
She hadn't told him her name, but he had somehow caught on to it from Caspian's constant calling.
Hana pressed the glowing moss into the raw, open wound. The reaction from the magical moss was immediate.
A hiss of steam rose from the fox's flesh as the magical properties of the moss fought the infection. Raiden's eight tails thrashed, one of them accidentally slapping against Caspian's face.
"Watch your filth, fox!" Caspian snarled, his grip tightening until Raiden's bones creaked.
"Stop it, both of you," Hana snapped, her hands covered in pink fox blood as she began to stitch the muscle back together using vine silk.
The blue screen flickered in her corner vision. Just then, the numbers were climbing slowly.
> [MISSION PROGRESS: 87%… 90%...]
> [ALERT: VITAL SIGNS DROPPING]
> [NOTICE: Restoration incomplete. The Fox's internal core is fractured. Without a life-force anchor, the ninth tail will wither within minutes.]
Hana's eyes narrowed. She looked at Raiden. He was pale, sweat beading on his forehead, his green eyes unfocused. He wasn't faking the pain anymore. The ninth tail was the source of a nine-tailed fox beastman's power; losing it was like losing a lung.
But what exactly did the system want her to do?
"System, what anchor?" she muttered.
The screen shifted, the text turning a deep violet color.
> [REQUIRED: Biological Synchronization.]
> [The Fox must be marked to stabilize his core. Establish a Primal Bond to secure the reward.]
> [Bonus Reward: +2500]
> [Failure Penalty: 24 hours of Agony]
Hana felt a headache brewing. She looked at her balance: -1,246,500. Then, at the +5,000 potential reward, if added to the first quest with the fox.
5000. 5000.
She was seriously contemplating it.
5000 was not a small number. And she knew the rewards would get better going forward, but she couldn't afford to take on the penalty. The system was a sick bastard that just wanted to screw her over.
"Is there a problem?" Caspian asked, his golden eyes scanning her face.
He saw her hesitation and the way her eyes kept scanning for a conclusive situation.
Then, his gaze dropped to the fox. His scales began to pulse a violent, jealous orange, as if he could already tell what was going on in her mind.
"Hana. What is that look on your face?"