You hadn’t spoken in a long while, and the words came out a little wrong. Had she understood you? The wand was still leveled at your center mass, and you didn’t dare move. 

 

She spoke, in her rough mutter. 

 

“Stay away from me.”

 

She dropped her wand arm to grip her injured one, gasping in pain. You drooped in relief as the wand’s tip pointed at the floor, and her eyes narrowed.

 

“Don’t move.” 

 

The wand was still gripped tightly in her unharmed fist. You didn’t move. 

 

She took a few careful steps back and collapsed against the wall. You watched her fish a roll of cloth bandages from her bag and wrap her shoulder. She watched you too: even as she treated her injury, her eyes never left you.

 

You stayed motionless as she fumbled with a flint, some fallen branches, and a handful of tinder to light a small fire near the cave’s entrance, taking her eyes off of you in only short, half-second bursts. It grew darker outside, and you trembled with hunger. But you knew it was safest not to move.

 

As the huntress settled in by the fire, she spoke to you again. 

 

“What do you want?”

 

You knew you couldn’t try any sort of escape, at this point.

 

“Nothing. Nothing, please don’t hurt me. Please.”

 

She stared at you, expression unchanging. That seemed to have been the wrong thing to say. What did she want? 

 

“I can help you.” You gestured to her shoulder. “Clean your wound.”

 

Her brow furrowed at that. “Don’t come any closer.”

 

You spent a few long minutes over the fire that way, watching each other. 

 

But as she stared you down, her resolve seemed to weaken, and she reached into her sack, pulling out a thick slab of dried meat and taking a bite. It was so, so beautiful. You shivered. Thick, smoky-smelling, oily meat. Beautiful and salty and delicious. You were so hungry. You leaned toward it, longingly, forgetting that you were being watched. 

 

“Are you hungry?”

 

You jumped back. “No! I won’t eat you! Please!” 

 

She sighed. “No. Not like that. Do you…need food?”

 

You wobbled a bit, back and forth. “Hungry.”

 

She stared at you, as if solving some kind of problem. After a minute passed, she tore off a chunk of meat and tossed it your way, her eyes never leaving your body. 

 

You looked back at her, for just a second, and then fell upon the meat, enveloping it in your center and moaning quietly as it began to dissolve. “Thank you. Thank you.”

 

“Is that better? You won’t…eat me now?”

 

“No! No. I won’t eat you. Thank you. I was so hungry.” 

 

You felt yourself growing a little bit bigger and stronger as the meat nourished you. You were tremendously relieved: you had gone without food for many nights, and you had thought this would be one of them. Without knowing exactly why, you spoke up.

 

“I can help, still. Clean your wound.” 

 

The huntress looked thoughtful, at this. 

 

“Hmm. What’s your name?”

 

You obligingly bubbled your name, ending it on a grateful pop. 

 

“Uh. Okay. I’ll just call you Poppy.”

 

You tried the name out for yourself. “Poppy.” It was as good as any.

 

“Do you think you could clean this wound out without making it worse?”

 

“Yes! Yes. I can clean things.” You half-walked, half-oozed your way to her. And her muscles tensed, but she didn’t run. You carefully enveloped her shoulder, bandage and all; if you worked quickly, it should be easy to extrude the dirt. The huntress seemed to relax after a minute, seeing that she wasn’t being eaten. 

 

“What is your name, friend?” 

 

“Oh!” She startled a bit. “Fiona.” 

 

“Fyo-nah,” you said to yourself, committing it to memory. “Your wound is clear, now. No dirt or rocks.”

 

“Thank you,” she said without fanfare, exhaling briefly as she leaned against the cave wall. “What are you doing in this cave, Poppy?”

 

“Looking for food. No more food near my lake. I’m not big enough to go out and hunt.” You gesture to your still-shrunken body. 

 

“The lake?” she quietly muttered to herself. “Oh. You know, the villages are expanding - uh, more humans are coming to live out this way. So there will be less and less game nearby. Which bodes poorly for me.” She glanced at her bow and sighed. 

 

“Oh.” You despondently melt partway into a puddle. “Hungry days ahead.”

 

She looked at you, then at her shoulder, then at you again. 

 

“Poppy?”

 

“Fiona?”

 

“Do you want to hunt with me?”