Galateya watched as Ash took off and vanished in the forest.

  Then she watched as Sage screwed on a container filled with colorful paintballs to her rifle. The Skinwalker's motion was smoothly hypnotic, each gesture playful, like she was constantly performing for an invisible audience. Teya wasn't sure what to make of the fox-shaped Omnid girl.

  "The key to good marksmanship," Sage explained, "is to not think about it too hard. You're a dragon, right? You've got those predator instincts buried in there somewhere under all that serious Taniwha-ness."

  "I've never hunted anything," Galateya repeated, watching a seagull land on a nearby log. The bird regarded them with the entitled smugness only seagulls possessed.

  "Perfect! Virgin hunter!" Sage grinned, passing her the rifle. "Okay, so first—see that asshole seagull over there? The one that looks like it's judging our life choices?"

  "The... bird?"

  "That's Steve," Sage said. "He's a dick. Stole a sandwich from a kid last week. Watched the whole thing from my tower window. Kid cried. Steve didn't even finish the sandwich—He dropped it in the ocean like a complete psychopath!"

  Galateya squinted at the seagull. "How do you know it's the same bird?"

  "I can smell his crimes," Sage said solemnly. Then she broke into a grin. "Nah, I'm fucking with you. All seagulls are named Steve. It's just easier that way. They're all guilty of something."

  "So I just... aim and shoot?"

  "Technically yes, but there's an ART to it," Sage moved behind her, adjusting Galateya's grip on the rifle. Her hands were warm, guiding softly. "See, you gotta feel the weight. Let it settle in your arms. Don't fight it, work with it!"

  Galateya was acutely aware of how close Sage stood. The Skinwalker's breath tickled her neck as she leaned in to check the sight alignment. Her scent was strange and... complex. Like a forest after rain, mixed with something sweet and slightly musky. Fox, Galateya supposed. With undertones of more fox.

  Galateya sniffed harder.

  More fox. It was fox all the way down… like a fox matryoshka. Like a planet the surface of which has been stitched entirely from foxes. An ocean of foxness.

  What?

  The smell was inexplicably comforting, like warm pelts, like a dance of sunlight across the forest, like diving headfirst into snow.

  "See how Steve's just sitting there?" Sage whispered conspiratorially. "All smug and bird? That's your target. Don't think of it as shooting a bird. Think of it as... dispensing colorful justice!"

  "Colorful justice," Galateya repeated, suppressing a smile.

  "Exactly! You're not being cruel. It's educational! Steve needs to learn that his sandwich-stealing ways have consequences." Sage's hands adjusted Galateya's shoulders again, squaring them properly. "There. Feel that? More stable. Your center of gravity is lower than a human's because of the digitigrade legs. Lean into it."

  "I've shot Keiy before," Galateya pointed out.

  "Dis ain't the same as your smart-ass talking gun," Sage pointed out. "Bet yo Frontenachii tech has auto-aim or someshit."

  Galateya had to concede that point. Keiy did have targeting assistance. The gun unit's crystalloid processors calculated trajectory, wind resistance, target movement—all the variables a shooter needed to account for. All Galateya had ever needed to do was think about the target and point and pull the trigger.

  This paintball rifle was decidedly more primitive. And somehow, that made it feel more real. More… fun?

  "Alright," Sage continued, her hands still steadying Galateya. "Breathe in. Hold it. Feel your heartbeat. Wait for the space between beats. That's when you squeeze. Don't jerk, don't yank, a smooth, steady squeeze. Aim a bit higher, consider gravity."

  Galateya focused on the Seagull. The bird had turned slightly, presenting a better profile. Almost like it was posing for its execution.

  She inhaled.

  Held.

  Felt the rhythm of her pulse.

  Squeezed.

  The rifle kicked against her shoulder ever so slightly. The paintball arced through the air in a fluorescent green streak and splattered directly on Steve's side. The seagull let out an indignant squawk and took flight, wing splattered neon green.

  "YESSS!" Sage walloped. "First shot! Perfect hit! Steve's gonna think twice before stealing sandwiches now! You're a natural, dragonsama!"

  Galateya couldn't help the grin spreading across her face. It was such a small thing, shooting a seagull with paint. Something about it felt satisfying. Not the violence of it… Being in control... The fact that she'd done it herself without Keiy's assistance, without her great-grandmother's oversight, without...

  Well, Sage sorta assisted her. Galateya glanced at the Skinwalker.

  She's so different from everyone I've ever known, Galateya thought, watching her companion perform an elaborate victory dance that involved spinning, finger guns, and twerking at the fleeing seagull. So... free. So unconcerned about everything.

  "Did you see his dum’ bird face?" Sage wheezed between laughs. "Like 'how DARE you interrupt my birb-activities!' Classic Steve energy!"

  Galateya studied the Skinwalker further. Sage moved like liquid. Her body language was open, inviting, completely at odds with someone who'd just been threatened with Frontenachii blood-binding an hour ago.

  She should be terrified, Galateya realized. Or at least cautious. Instead, she's... this. Wildness? Carefree-ness? Joy?

  Huh?

  She's smiling at me exactly like Nexxali smiles at Commander Xandria. ...Does she actually like me?

  "Yo, T-bun!" Sage jogged back over, red curls bouncing. "You went all quiet and contemplative. Whatcha thinking about?"

  "You," Galateya answered honestly, then immediately regretted it when Sage's freckles rearranged into little <3's.

  This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

  "Me?" Sage's grin widened. "Ooh, do tell! What about me specifically? My amazing teaching skills? My rockin' bod? My irresistible charm?"

  "I was just... Uhhhh… observing that you seem very unbothered by everything that's happened today."

  "Unbothered?" Sage tilted her head, freckles shifting into question marks that straightened out into exclamation marks.

  "Girl, I'm FULLY bothered. I'm simply choosing to be bothered in a fun way instead of a depressing way." She gestured expansively at the forest around them. "Like, yes, I'm about to be blood-bound to your juicy dragon butt. Yes, my family's entire existence just got exposed to the Frontenachii fleet. Yes, my mom would probably skin me alive if she knew I was here instead of locked in my tower like a good little Skinwalker."

  Galateya nodded.

  "N'ways. I could totally spiral into existential dread about all that, OR I could shoot seagulls with my new dragon girlfriend and have the best day I've had in literal years!"

  "I'm not your girlfriend," Galateya protested weakly.

  "Not YET," Sage corrected, stepping closer. "But give it time, dragonsama. I'm very persuasive." She waggled her eyebrows suggestively.

  "Why... do you... even like me?" Galateya forced the question out of herself.

  "Didn't we cover this already?" Sage raised a red eyebrow. "You're hot and you're not turning into a drooling idiot when you look at my face."

  Galateya's tail curled defensively.

  "Fine! You want more? You're also... real. Like, painfully real. When you had your meltdown in the café? When you froze everything and screamed about yo feels?" She touched Galateya's arm gently. "That was the most honest thing I've seen in, like, ever. We Skinwalkers like to play games, mess around, wear faces of animals or people. You're soooooo friggin open, it's refreshingly... tasty."

  Galateya blinked at the word choice. "Tasty?"

  "Yeah, you know—like soul-food tasty." Sage's freckles rearranged into little flame patterns. "Not that I'm gonna eat your soul! Eep, that came out wrong. What I mean is... you're genuine. Authentic. You don't hide behind layers of posturing. When you're hurt, you show it. When you're angry, everyone knows. That's rare and precious."

  Galateya squinted at the Skinwalker, examining her words with her justice sense. “There’s more,” she said.

  “Aiiiiiiight,” Sage let out. “Miss Justice-judge, digging for my secret garden heart…” She fell silent for a few seconds and then recomposed herself. “Listen, T. I'm going to be straight as fuck with you. This isn't the genuine me,” Sage pointed out, “this is my foxes and human soul. The real me… the girl buried ten miles deep under a layer of hyper foxness….” Her foxy humanoid face melted off, exposing a pale, glistening, skull and rotting flesh. “Is a lonely-as-fuck-Skinwalker who'd do anything for genuine companionship. And I mean fucking anything.”

  “Anything?” Galateya asked.

  “Yep, yep,” Sage nodded with her skull-head. “If Ash wasn’t in the picture, I could totally eat a boy dying from cancer for you and give you the D if that’s what you wanted.”

  “That’s… kind of freaky,” Galateya said, shuddering slightly.

  "Relax, T-bun! I'm making a point about commitment levels here! Though if you ever DO need someone’s soul eaten, I'm your girl. If you’d like me more as a man, I can be that for you. Just saying. The option's on the table."

  "Please take that option off the table," Galateya said firmly. “I really don’t like deception.”

  "Fine, fine!" Sage threw up her wet-bone and rotting ligament hands. “Real talk, T. Even if you don’t want a relationship with me… I’ll take your friendship. I’m desperate as fuck for friends. Have been since I realized that I cannot have IRL human friends. My family’s nice and all, but I… I want… I want to make Omnid friends too! I want hugs and girl talk! I hang out with humans at cons, but I don’t use my real voice nor show my face or any skin to them. I have online relationships, but, like, they don’t really fulfil me. Do you get what I’m sayin’? You must, right? You grew up in a time bubble. I grew up in a bubble of sorts too. One created by my... Skinwalker Fractal Engine heart.”

  Galateya nodded, relaxing slightly. Her Justice sense wasn’t screaming “trickery” at her. Sage was being completely honest.

  "It's like... imagine if every person you ever met instantly wanted to fuck you or obey you or both. Not because of you, but because your heart pumps out this psychic pheromone that rewrites their desires. Makes your body shift to what they want the most! Mom said that I’ll get my Phase-Shift under control when I get older, but it’s like the more desperate and lonely I get the worse my skin is acting up!”

  "That sounds awful." Galateya said.

  "It IS awful!" Sage nodded earnestly. "Mimi already mastered her shift. She can turn it down, blend in. Fin's even better at it. The café customers don’t get obsessed with them! But me?" The rotting flesh rippled with swaying ligaments. "I'm like a foghorn of 'OH GOD, PLEASE LOVE ME, I’M A GIANT SLUT, YOUR PERFECT GIRL IN EVERY POSSIBLE WAY' broadcast on every frequency. And every time I push it down it just slides back up! It’s torture!”

  She gestured at herself with skeletal fingers. “Staying bony like this is… kinda really fucking grating, like I’m naked in a snow storm. The local Aetheric density not approving of 100% Phase-shift. Ah, right. Skinwalkers feed on trickery, like, visual deception. Guess it’s how you feed on justice n’ stuff, ya?”

  “You can shift back then,” Galateya said. “Just be honest with me. I really like… honesty.”

  “I can do honesty!” Sage stated, rapidly shifting back into an excessively attractive fox girl. “Extreme-extra-honesty with a side of honesty, here I go! Ask me anything!”

  “Why are you a fox?”

  “Ah!” Sage smiled. “Phew, easy question. Mom took each of us to the forest when we were little spawnlings and offered us a variety of half-dead animals. I like the taste of fox souls. Mimi likes wolves and Tim likes bears as you could prolly tell by their shift-appearance.”

  “You eat foxes often?”

  “Whenevs I get the munchies,” Sage shrugged. “I do try to hunt down sick, super injured, or really old and wise foxes. Keeps the template fresh, you know? Plus it feels rude not to. Like, here's this beautiful, fluffy, cute creature about to return to the void, and I'm like 'hey buddy, how about instead of oblivion, you become part of a collective consciousness that occasionally wears your face?'"

  Galateya inhaled. Honesty. Lovely, just honesty. “Do the foxes really live through you?”

  “Yep.” Sage nodded. “The fox souls absolutely get to live on through me instead of drowning in the Astral abyss. They get to experience things they never would have otherwise. Like right now—" she spread her furry red-orange arms wide, "—all the fox souls in me are experiencing this. A lovely summer day. The collective foxness is sniffing, evaluating, understanding you as a predator friend. They’re excited to go on a hunt with us. It’s great. They’re… happy. They want to hop around and yip.”

  Sage hopped, her fox tail swishing.

  “See?” She did a little spin, arms outstretched that escalated into a cartwheel. "Pure fox joy! They're all like 'yes yes yes, hunt time, friend time, warm sun time!' It's very wholesome if you ignore the part where… I literally ate them. But they don’t mind. They kinda get that it was their time. That if I didn’t eat them, somebody else totally would."

  Galateya watched as the Skinwalker bounced around the parking lot like an overgrown kit. Something about the display was... endearing? Was that the right word? Yeah, endearing. The Taniwha never considered the nature of Skinwalkers to such a degree. She kind of understood them now. She got Sage. Sage was acceptably just.

  "You're staring," Sage observed, stopping mid-bounce. Her freckles had rearranged into little fox paw prints trailing across her cheeks.

  "I'm evaluating," Galateya corrected. "Understanding you."

  "Mmm, sure." Sage grinned. "Evaluating me extra-hard with those pretty rainbow-violet eyes. What's the verdict, Justice Dragon? Am I adequately honest enough for you?"

  "You're honest," Galateya admitted. "Disturbingly so."

  “Do you wanna talk about our bondery?” Sanguine slid into Galateya’s personal space.

  Galateya flashed in several textures, most of them sharp and dark.

  "My foxes can smell you spiraling," Sage’s head tilted in a very vulpine way. "Your scales are doing that thing where they cycle between colors really fast. Like a mood ring having a seizure."

  "I'm not spiraling." Galateya stated.

  "You're totally spiraling." Sage reached out and booped Galateya's nose. "But that's okay! Spiraling is natural! I spiral like three times a day minimum. Sometimes I spiral while I'm already mid-spiral. Spiral-ception!"

  Galateya couldn’t help the snort which escaped her mouth.

  “Don’t deceive yourself,” Sage said. “Das not justice! Be open with me! Let’s fox… err, be open and do fun things together forevah! It’s not blood-bondery, it’s friendship with fox-benefits! Sounds good? It sounds grrreat to my skulk!”

  The timer on Sage’s phone beeped. “Ah! It is time! Shall we?” Sage hopped to the red jeep and pulled the second rifle from her duffel bag.

  “Yes. Let’s take down that human schemer and get our answers,” Galateya nodded.