The towering firs and pines stood like silent sentinels at the edge of the campsite, their needled branches weaving a fractured quilt of shadow and light across the recently relocated Airstream. Dusk was approaching, painting the clearing with the burnt orange and deep violet hues that had always made Ferguson's forests feel like something from a fairy tale – beautiful but carrying an undercurrent of something ancient and primal.

  Krysanthea had arranged everything with military precision.

  The RV now occupied a small clearing about half a mile from the ranger station, close enough to monitor but far enough to maintain the illusion of autonomy. A hastily installed security camera perched on a nearby tree, its unblinking eye capturing our every movement, long cable stretching to the station. There was no pretense about our situation–I was a specimen under observation, my alien existence a puzzle box Krysanthea was determined to solve.

  Inside the Airstream, Nessy and I worked in companionable silence, scrubbing decades of dust from surfaces, organizing my grandfather's possessions into categories: keep, discard, uncertain. The RV felt small and cosy with Nessy in it, her doggored energy taking up way more space than her physical form. Over a few trips using Kristi's cruiser Nessy managed to lug 1001 pillows, outfits and blankets from her apartment and a box full of food such as eggs and frozen bacon.

  The husky-girl hummed a song as she worked, tail wagging, head bobbing and banging on random pots and cans and somehow producing an incredibly catchy melody.

  ",

  Fighting slimes and doing goods!

  No need to worry 'bout green-headed birds,

  With feathered crests and fancy words!

  Oh, my packmate is the coolest one,

  We've got quests that need to be done!

  System-powered, sandwich-strong,

  Nothing's gonna go wrong, wrong, wrong!

  Raptor rangers with their claws so sharp,

  Think they're better 'cause they smart!

  But they don't know what we've been through,

  Me and you and Sandwichu too!"

  “Doing goods? I laughed. “They smart?”

  “What?” She asked. “It's cute and self-deprecating. You and I are gonna do many quests and bring much goodness to Ferguson. Goodest goods!”

  I chortled, blushing slightly.

  Why did she even think I was cool? I was pretty average at best.

  A knock at the door interrupted our banter.

  "I'll get it," Nessy offered, flashing to the door ready to face annoying emerald raptors head on.

  She opened the door to reveal a young Labrador pradavarian—no more than sixteen, I guessed—wearing what looked like a volunteer uniform with a bright yellow armband bearing the insignia of the Ferguson ranger service. His muzzle was still spotted with the characteristic markings of human-canid adolescence, his eyes wide with undisguised curiosity as he peered past Nessy at me.

  "Extra supplies for the... new resident!” he announced, his voice cracking slightly. "Officer Strand said to deliver these immediately."

  He held out a large cardboard box filled with canned foods, basic camping supplies, and what appeared to be a walkie-talkie.

  "Thanks, kid," Nessy said, taking the box with exaggerated cheerfulness. "Tell Officer Strand we're just thrilled with our accommodations."

  The young Lab's ears twitched nervously. "Um, she also said to tell you that the... special resident..." his eyes darted toward me again, "...should be ready for special assessment at 1900 hours."

  "This special resident has a name," I called from inside. "It's Alec."

  The boy's tail gave an uncertain wag. "Yes, sir. Alec. Uh... welcome to Ferguson Ranger District!"

  He saluted me.

  Nessy's smile showed just a touch too much canine smugness as she nodded. "That'll be all, deputy."

  She closed the door before he could respond, setting the box on the small fold-out table with more force than necessary.

  "Assessment," she mimicked Krysanthea's more formal tone. "Like you're a piece of equipment to be tested. Pfff."

  I began unpacking the supplies, examining the canned goods–beans, corn, tuna, soup–basic provisions meant for survival rather than enjoyment. "At least she's feeding us."

  "Bare minimum," Nessy grumbled, pulling out a camping lantern from the bottom of the box. She paused, extracting a small folded note tucked beneath it. Her ears flattened as she read it, then unceremoniously crumpled it into a ball.

  "What did it say?" I asked.

  "Nothing important." She tossed the crumpled paper toward a makeshift trash pile.

  I raised an eyebrow. "Nessy."

  She sighed, her shoulders slumping slightly. "Fine. 'Maintain appropriate professional boundaries. Remember our agreement.' Like I'm some kind of untrained puppy who can't control myself."

  “Can you though?”

  “No, I cannot,” she declared. “Fuck her and fuck her rules! I’ma hug n’ lick my packmate as much as I wanna!”

  “Does the Slayer permit swearing?” I laughed accepting the fluffy hug and the lick.

  “Swearing ain’t a sin,” she fired back.

  “Oh?” I asked. “What’s a sin then, Miss Goodly Nazarite?”

  “Hrmmm…” She pursed her lips. "Slaying an enemy without goodness in your heart." she counted on her clawed fingers. "Refusing aid to those who cannot protect themselves. Placing material wealth above spiritual growth. Denying your true nature." She paused, her ears flattening slightly. "And... umm... physical intimacy without a soul bond."

  "A soul bond?" I repeated. "What’s that?”

  Nessy's fur ruffled slightly as she made an adorable face that I recognized as her way of blushing.

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  "It's just... you know. A Nazarite thing." She suddenly became very interested in organizing the cans into the kitchen shelf by size. "The Slayer teaches that physical union should follow spiritual union. The melding of souls before entwining of bodies."

  "And how exactly does one form a soul bond?" I asked, leaning against the counter, watching her growing discomfort with amusement.

  She cleared her throat, her tail swishing nervously behind her. "Well, it's... complicated. There's a ceremony at the temple. Prayers. Promises. The Prad Reverend performs a blood-pact blessing that binds two souls together for eternity." Her voice dropped slightly. "It's considered unbreakable."

  "Like marriage?"

  "More... permanent," she said, finally meeting my eyes. "Marriage is a legal contract. A soul bond is... cosmic. Spiritual. Transcends life… and death." Her ears twitched. "They say bonded souls find each other in every lifetime across the infinite divide!"

  "Is that what you wanted with… Alec?" I wondered. "A soul bond?"

  “Urmmmm,” Nessy's eyes widened momentarily before she looked away again. "I... I thought our souls were already kinda, almost, nearly bonded. The Syn-pack. The blood pact," Her voice carried an ocean of vulnerability. "I thought we were so close… And then the formal happened and then…"

  She fell silent, struggling to recompose herself.

  "What about Krysanthea?" I asked. "Did Alec want a soul bond with her?"

  Nessy's expression darkened, her hackles rising. "I didn’t even know about his relationship with her!"

  "But do you think they were serious?" I pressed, watching her reactions carefully.

  She barked a sharp, bitter laugh. "Serious enough for him to choose her over me." The hurt was still raw beneath her words, a wound only partially healed. "If she was in his life, it was because she probably decided he belonged to her!”

  "Belonged?"

  "That's how she operates," Nessy explained, her voice taking on a sharp edge I rarely heard from her. "When we were in school, she identified the things she wanted and systematically acquired them. Top grades. Team captain positions. Academic awards. If someone else had something she wanted, she wouldn't stop until she got it."

  "Including Alec," I concluded.

  "I didn't realize he was on her acquisition list until it was too effing late," Nessy admitted. "By the time I understood what was happening, she'd already... won." The last word seemed to physically pain her. “I'd beat her at something that I was good at–music class, track, the See-Mass winter festival seeker quests and she would find a way to absolutely outdo me. Not immediately, mind you… but overtime, absolutely.”

  The picture became clearer. The competition between them wasn't new—it predated local Alec's relationship with Krysanthea. It was an established dynamic, a pattern of rivalry that had now found its newest battlefield in me.

  "So, did she ever lose?" I asked. "At anything?"

  Nessy frowned, considering. "Not that I can remember. Her family had money, connections. She was naturally athletic, academically gifted too." Her blue eyes darkened with memory. "And what didn't come naturally, she acquired eventually through sheer, relentless determination."

  "Sounds exhausting," I commented.

  "For everyone around her? Definitely." Nessy shrugged. "But now we have something she doesn't."

  "The quest?”

  "The quest!" she agreed, her tail beginning to wag again. "And our pack-bond. And Sandwichu! Ah, I didn’t finish my song!"

  She inhaled deep and began banging out the tune on the cans once again.

  "Oh, my packmate is the coolest one,

  We've got quests that need to be done!

  System-powered, sandwich-strong,

  Nothing's gonna go wrong, wrong, wrong!

  Sandwichu, our magic tree,

  Healing bites for you and me!

  Glass branches reaching for the sky,

  Making raptors wonder why!

  Oh, my packmate is the coolest one,

  We've got quests that need to be done!

  System-powered, sandwich-strong,

  Nothing's gonna go wrong, wrong, wrong!”

  “The tree only heals me,” I pointed out.

  “Aleeeeeec, staaaph nitpicking me song lyrics,” she whined. “Praise it instead!”

  “It's excellent and quite catchy,” I said. “Probably going to get stuck in my head.”

  “Yay!”

  I glanced at our tree, still trapped in its plexiglass prison. It looked smaller somehow, its delicate glass branches pressing against the transparent walls of its container. No new sandwiches had grown to replace the ones we'd consumed, which was a concerning development.

  "Speaking of which," I said, "I'm worried about the tree. It doesn't look... healthy."

  Nessy's expression sobered as she followed my gaze. "It needs space. Air. Proper soil." She shot a glare at the security camera visible through the window. "But certain annoying birds seem determined to keep it imprisoned."

  “Does it though?” I asked. “I mean it’s a glass tree growing from a cube of concrete.”

  Nessy pursed her lips, scratching her head. “Maybe it needs pack… stuff? More happy Vibes? More pollination by bulbees?”

  “You think that we can summon bulbees… all the way out here?”

  “Doesn’t hurt to try,” she shrugged.

  “Pretty sure the resident raptor is going to be pissed if we bring in more weird shit into her domain,” I said.

  “She’s not the boss of me!” Nessy huffed.

  “Technically she is,” I pointed out.

  “Waaah, why are you on her side here?” the husky-girl whined.

  “I’m not on anyone’s side,” I said. “I’m just trying to understand what the fuck happened between a husky, a raptor and the local Alec and how to avoid the same fate.”

  “Simple—you live with me and tell her to piss off!” Nessy declared.

  “And you think that this one simple trick will work against extra-determined raptors?” I asked.

  Nessy opened her mouth and then closed it. “Damn it.”

  “Uh-huh,” I nodded. “Go on, tell me what you’re thinking.”

  "She never gives up," Nessy continued, her voice taking on a harder edge. "Never. Once Krysanthea decides she wants something, she pursues it with... terrifying focus. Like a missile locked on target."

  "Am I her target?"

  “I, erm, uhhh… I mean you’re not her Alec, why would you be?!”

  “I don’t know, this is a freeform speculative discussion. So, speculate things if you please.”

  “Hrmmm. I think… that if she sees that I care about you lots, and that alone might be enough reason for her to try. But that doesn't matter, ‘cus she’s not gonna win you!”

  "You realize I'm not a prize to be won, right?" I said.

  "Of course," Nessy replied quickly, though something in her expression suggested the concept wasn't entirely alien to her thinking. "You're my pack-mate. My new-old best-friend forever!”

  I decided to push a little further on the speculation factor. "And if I decided I preferred Krysanthea's company? What would you say to that?”

  The question hit her like a physical blow. Her ears flattened completely, her tail going rigid. For a moment, raw hurt flashed across her features before she mastered it, forcing a casual shrug that didn't reach her eyes.

  “Why would you prefer her company?” She stammered out.

  “We’re just speculating, remember? Stretching your boundaries.”

  "Ummm… If you choose her, then that would be your choice," she said, her voice carefully controlled. "I'm not... I would never force you to stay with me… but I would probably lie down and perish from stress if you left me again.”

  "Relax, I'm not going anywhere, Ness," I said. "I am just trying to understand what happened by understanding you two.”

  Relief washed over her features, her ears slowly rising from their flattened position. "Good. Because she's terrible company. All rules and protocols and serious lizard-intensity. You'd be bored out of your mind in a week!"

  I laughed, the tension breaking ever-so-slightly. "Right.”

  A sharp rap at the door interrupted our nearly finished RV cleaning. Nessy's ears swiveled toward the sound, her posture immediately tensing. Before either of us could respond, the door swung open, revealing Krysanthea framed in the dying daylight.

  She'd changed from her ranger uniform into a jet black dress that seemed to be made with material so dark it devoured the light altogether. Yet, every time she moved silver stars ignited across the fabric.

  “Yes?” I asked her.

  “It’s seven PM,” she said. “Let’s go.”

  “Go… where?” I asked, unable to draw my eyes away from her figure.

  “Out,” she said.

  “To?”

  “To town Alec,” she replied. “You and I are going out to a nice restaurant for dinner.”

  Nessy dropped the broom she was carrying, choking on her spit as if she was stuck dead by the velociraptor’s words.

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