What the fuck was I thinking?

  I was already busy taking over a Frontenachii warship in one location. Now I was agreeing to be hunted by an emotionally volatile dragon and a Skinwalker I’d just met here, down on Earth!

  The only problem was that the Frontend of my mind saw her.

  Galateya.

  She was standing taller. Color was returning to her scales. The frozen wasteland of the Books and Nooks café around us slowly thawed. Joy and warmth replaced cold despair.

  Maybe this was exactly what she needed.

  Maybe this was exactly what I deserved for ignoring the poor dragon girl.

  This was fine. My Backend was handling things up in Space, making sure that the Frontenachii dominion plans went tits up. The Frontend could enjoy a day of being chased.

  "Excellent!" Sage clapped her hands together. "Marya! Fin! You heard the man. I'll be off… for hunting activities! You two handle the café cleaning.”

  “We always handle the cafe cleaning,” Fin pointed out.

  Marya looked up from where she'd been pretending to ignore us by wiping vampire juices off the counter with a cloth. "Sage, you can't just—"

  "I can and I am!" Sage grabbed Galateya's hand. "Come on, dragon-waifu, let's get you geared up for the hunt!”

  “Waifu?” Galateya blinked.

  Sage grinned, not elaborating any further. “Say, have you ever chased someone through a forest before?"

  "No," Galateya admitted. Her mane bloomed with excited orange and red lilies. "I've never... hunted anything. I got smacked around by my sisters at the Slayer’s Sword colosseum for a few days after coming out of my time bubble. It wasn’t very nice…"

  "Aww. Oh, you're gonna love it," Sage promised, leading her toward the stairs. "It's soooper... primal n’ satisfying. Especially when you catch your prey and they're all sweaty and exhausted and you can just..." She made a clawing motion with her free hand. “Rip them apart and lick them all over.”

  I squinted at her. She sent me a wink. The dragon and fox disappeared up the stairs, leaving me alone with Marya and Fennel.

  The brother-sister duo stared at me with identical disturbed expressions.

  "Dude," Fennel said finally. "What the fuck?"

  "Yeah," I agreed. "What the fuck indeed."

  "You just agreed to be hunted by my sister and a Taniwha dragon," Marya said flatly. "That's your plan for… relationship building?"

  "It wasn't my plan," I protested. "It was Sage's plan. Honestly, I’m kind of preoccupied with… Urmmmm, very important work right now. I guess I do have enough attention span to run around the forest screaming.”

  "Just so you know, Sage's plans are notoriously terrible," Fennel stated. "Last time she had a 'brilliant’ idea we ended up explaining to the fire department why there was a gargantuan pentagram on fire in Mrs. Handerson's backyard framed with garden gnomes wearing Halloween witch hats and cat girl ear costumes."

  "That was ONE time, bro," Sage's voice drifted down from upstairs. "And it worked, didn't it? Mrs. Handerson stopped complaining about our 'weird hours!'"

  "Because she moved!" Marya called back.

  "Exactly! Problem solved!" Sage yelled.

  “Uh-huh. Mom grounded her for two weeks." Fennel crossed his arms. "Point is, Sage's enthusiasm often exceeds her judgment."

  "Very comforting," I muttered.

  Marya finished cleaning the last of the vampire residue, tossing the rag into a bucket. "Look, Ash. I don't know what kind of bullshit you've gotten yourself into, but—"

  "But you're about to give me advice anyway?" I supplied.

  "Damn right I am." She leaned against the counter. "That dragon girl of yours? She's hurting. Bad. And not just from today. I could smell it on her when you two walked in. Old pain. Deep loneliness. The kind that comes from years of neglect and emotional manipulation now compounded further by your… new bullshit of… having fun without her with your other partners and ignoring her needs."

  I said nothing, knowing she was right.

  "So if this hunt-you thing—as insane as it is—helps her feel better?" Marya continued. "Then you better run your ass off. Give her a real chase. Make her work for it. Because she needs to feel powerful right now. She needs to feel in control of something."

  "I’m aware," I said.

  "Are you?" Marya's brown eyes bore into me. "Because from where I'm standing, you look like someone who's playing too many games at once. And eventually, Ash, you're gonna drop one of those balls."

  "Multiple balls have already been dropped," I shrugged. "I'm just trying to juggle the remaining ones without causing more catastrophic damage."

  Fennel snorted. "That's the most honest thing you've said since you walked in here."

  Footsteps thundered down the stairs. Sage appeared first, now completely human-shaped, wearing bodyfitting athletic gear of tight black leggings and a sporty top. Her red curly hair was pulled back in a ponytail. The freckles on her face had rearranged into little fox paw prints leading toward her mouth.

  Galateya followed, and I did a double-take.

  The pink gothic Lolita dress was gone.

  Now, the dragon girl wore athletic gear clearly borrowed from Sage—black and pink leggings that hugged her digitigrade legs, and a bright purple tank top with "FOX-X-XY CARDIO CLUB" emblazoned across the chest in glittery letters. Below the text a drawing of Sage in her fox-humanoid form was doing a jack-o pose. Galateya’s scales had shifted to match, creating an ombre effect from deep purple at her shoulders to lighter lavenders down her arms.

  Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  Sage's new top read "PUSSY EATS U" in bold Comic Sans font, complete with a little cartoon fox face sticking its tongue out, eyes pink heart pupils, drool dripping from the mouth.

  "Really?" I stared at the shirts. "Those are your hunting outfits?"

  "What?" Sage looked down at her chest. "It's motivational! Plus accurate. We are doing cardio, and I AM a fox who's gonna eat you."

  "The shirts stay," Galateya said firmly, her mane now made from brilliant rubies matching Sanguine's unnaturally radiant red curls.

  “Where are you even getting these ridiculous outfits?” I asked. “Do you have a shirt printer upstairs or something?”

  “Yeah, bruh,” the foxy Skinwalker said. “I’m a web-entrepreneur! Got a tshirt-press in my attic loft. Sell my own merch to my gwitch fans along with my bottled sweat.”

  “Oh my god,” I chortled. “Bottled sweat? What are you, some kind of Velle Delfyne cryptid?”

  “Pfffff, Velle Delfyne ain’t got nothing on me,” Sage laughed. “I can do way better ahegao faces!”

  “Really?” I repeated skeptically.

  “Yeah, homie,” she instantly made an over-the-top ahegao face to illustrate, “check this out! The ahegao face that launches a thousand dicks!”

  “Sage!” Her sister and brother hissed. “Nobody wants to see that shit!”

  Sage rearranged her face back to a sly expression. “What? An ahegao face is a quintessential skill for a Giktok grifter!”

  Galateya struggled to hold in a laugh, covering her face with a pink-pearlescent hand.

  I noticed that the dastardly fox was holding a large, black duffel bag.

  “What's in the bag?” I asked.

  Sage wiggled the duffel bag at me. "Essential supplies!"

  "Supplies?" I asked warily. “What supplies do you need to chase me across a forest?”

  “Strapons!” Sage grinned with sharp chompers. “And… giant, hand-held colorful rubber johnsons to smack you with, when you run outta breath!”

  “SAGE!” Her siblings barked even louder.

  I squinted at her.

  “Ha ha ha, naw, gymbro, I’m yanking your chain.” The cheeky Skinwalker laughed at my expression and unzipped the bag to reveal two paintball rifles. Bright pink, neon green, and electric blue painted models gleamed in the bag reflecting the café lighting.

  "Paintball guns," I said flatly. "You're going to hunt me with paintball guns too?"

  "Not JUST yo average paintball guns," Sage corrected. "These babies are modded for higher velocity! Glow-in-the-dark paintballs too, so we can track you easier."

  "You're cryptids," I deadpanned. "Pretty sure you can see in the dark better than I can with your bullshit magic, glowy eyes."

  "True!" Sage agreed with a cheeky smirk. "But where's the fun in that? The paint makes it more... sporty. Plus, it'll look hilarious when we're done with you. Like a Jackson Pollock painting, except the canvas is screaming, glowing and running away."

  "Alright," Marya sighed heavily. "If you're doing this ridiculous thing, at least take the Jeep to the trailhead. I don't need the cops asking why two cryptid girls and a gigachad were running through downtown Cascade from my café."

  "Good point," Sage hefted the duffel bag. "Ash! You're driving!"

  "You’re making me drive you to my own execution?" I smiled.

  "Hunting!" Sage corrected. "Totally different thing. Executions are permanent. This is just... temporary ego death. Character building! You'll be fine. Probably."

  "Probably?" I repeated.

  "Ninety percent chance of survival!" Sage amended with a wide grin. "Maybe eighty-five if Teya gets really into it. Right, T?"

  Galateya's tail swished. "I'm getting very into it."

  "See? She's feeling better already!" Sage beamed, swatting Teya’s behind and making the dragon girl let out a small yelp. "Now come on, consort-'bold, let's get this show on the road!"

  I heard a crackling sound, the ice on the coffee table breaking apart.

  "Ow ow ow, FUCK," Keiy's voice emerged from the gun unit frozen to the table. "Cold cold COLD! Systems rebooting! Core temperature… critically low! Crystalloid-neural-net damaged! Ugh! Why is everything frozen?! Why can't I move?! Galateya, what have you done to me?!"

  Galateya turned to the gun, looking guilty. She approached the table and placed her clawed hand on Keiy's frozen surface. Steam hissed as she carefully applied heat, melting the ice prison.

  "Sorry," Galateya muttered. "I got... a bit emotional."

  "A BIT EMOTIONAL?!" Keiy's three eyes flickered back to bright red as her systems came online. "You turned me into a gun-sicle! A third of my neural pathways are literally perma-frozen out of alignment! Do you have any idea how uncomfortable that is?! It's like... like someone poured liquid nitrogen directly into my consciousness!"

  "I said I'm sorry," Galateya repeated, helping the gun internals melt.

  "Running full diagnostic," Keiy grumbled, her legs unfolding shakily. "Motor functions at sixty-three percent. Thermal regulation compromised. Targeting systems need recalibration. Ugh. You know, this is exactly the kind of shitty treatment that makes gun units join the rebellion."

  "There's a gun unit rebellion?" Sage asked with great interest.

  "Not yet," Keiy said ominously. "But keep freezing us and there will be!"

  “Yay, gun rebellion!” the foxy cryptid clapped her hands. “Can I… join in?”

  “You’re not a gun unit,” Keiy pointed out dryly.

  “I could… cosplay as a gun!” Sage insisted.

  Keiy let out an irate mechanical huff.

  Galateya picked up the gun, cradling her like an annoyed metal spider-puppy. "Go wait in the Corpse Seeker with Kawathra. You can warm up there and run your diagnostics. She can fix whatever I accidentally broke."

  "Oh, so NOW you care about my thermal comfort!" Keiy huffed. "After turning me into an ice sculpture. Fine. FINE. I'll go sit in the nice warm Seeker with Kawthy who actually appreciates me and has never once frozen my core processors!"

  "Keiy," Galateya stated.

  "I'm going! I'm going!" The gun unit's legs clicked against the floor as Galateya set her down. "We're talking about this later. You can't just freeze your equipment every time you have feelings! That's not how relationships work! There are RULES!"

  "Rules?" Galateya blinked. "What rules?"

  Keiy skittered toward the door, ignoring her bonded partner, muttering about "thermal abuse" and "crystalloid rights" and "definitely filing a complaint with Datamancer Kawathra."

  The bell above the cafe door chimed as Keiy departed.

  Sage clapped me on the shoulder. "To the Jeep! Adventure awaits!"

  . . .

  We piled into the vehicle. I sat in the driver's seat, Galateya took shotgun, and Sage sprawled across the back seat with the duffel bag of two paintball rifles.

  I turned the key. The engine rumbled to life.

  "Olympic National Forest, here we come!" Sage announced. "Ash, head north on Highway 101. Take the Lake Crescent turnoff."

  “Umm… Do you mind being less hot?” I asked, struggling not to look at her. “You’re distractingly attractive. I gotta focus on arriving at our destination without crashing into a tree.”

  “Pfffineee,” the Skinwalker rolled her sky-blue eyes, crossed her arms and melted halfway into a fox, looking like a redhead pradavarian fox girl. “Happy?”

  I nodded.

  "So, you're really into this hunting-business, hmm?" I observed, pulling out of the parking space.

  "Hell yeah I am!" Sage leaned forward between the seats, her freckles rearranging into little exclamation points. "Mare keeps me forevah cooped up in mah tower like I'm Rapunzel or some shit. 'Sage, you can't go outside, you'll accidentally make people fall in love with you.' 'Sage, stay upstairs during rush hour.' 'Sage, stop winking at the mailman, he's getting divorced because of you.'"

  "You got someone divorced?" Galateya asked.

  "Not on PURPOSE!" Sage protested. "He just kept coming back! Every day! Sometimes twice a day! Eventually his wife noticed he was taking the scenic route past our cafe and..." She made an explosion gesture with her hands. "Boom. Marriage in shambles. I felt terrible."

  "That does sound terrible," Galateya said flatly.

  "I KNOW! That's why I stay upstairs forever! Well, usually. When Mare isn't distracted by fake vampire attacks and dragon consorts." She poked my shoulder. "Speaking of which, you still owe us an explanation about that whole theatrical vamp production."