The walk was hell.
Not physical hell—Isabella’s legs were fine, her breathing was fine, her pace sharp and fierce like a woman who’d just rembered she was the main character.
No, the hell was Osiris.
Osiris, walking one long-legged stride behind her.
Osiris, breathing like a calm, unbothered forest spirit.
Osiris, existing.
And Isabella, fuming.
Her entire aura was crackling like she’d swallowed lava and was trying very hard not to spit it out. She kept her chin high, hair swaying behind her like a pissed-off banner of war, Glimora tucked against her chest like an emotional support weapon.
Osiris watched her back for a mont.
Her stiff shoulders.
Her clenched jaw.
Her aggressively forward walking speed.
He blinked.
"...Are you still mad at ?"
Isabella didn’t answer.
Not even a flinch.
She was in her "silent treatnt but make it divine punishnt" mode.
"Isabella?" he tried again.
Silence.
He walked a little faster, matching her steps. His shadow fell beside hers as the forest dimd into the approaching dark hour. Fireflies started drifting between glowing stone flowers. The mountain air thickened with mist.
"...Are you ignoring ?" he said softly.
Still no answer.
Osiris’ face scrunched up slightly, like a confused baby phoenix who wasn’t used to being disliked. He tried again.
"You’re walking fast," he noted.
Isabella didn’t even spare him a glance.
"You know," he continued, lightly clearing his throat, "it’s almost the dark hour. We should discuss shelter, food, safety—"
Nothing.
He exhaled through his nose and muttered, "You’re really not going to talk to ."
Still no reaction.
Glimora lifted her tiny head from Isabella’s arms and blinked up at her like: mother, are we truly doing this?
But Isabella was unstoppable. The humiliation of earlier—the "you’re too small for ," the wingless smugness, the audacity—was still burning in her like a sacred fla. She didn’t trust herself to speak yet. If she opened her mouth, she might accidentally summon a curse that would turn him into a toaster.
Then.
Out of nowhere.
A shriek shattered the forest.
So loud.
So sharp.
So monstrous.
It ripped through the air like claws dragging over stone.
Isabella froze mid-step.
Osiris froze behind her.
Glimora’s fur puffed up like a cotton ball reacting to trauma.
Another shriek answered it from sowhere deeper in the mountains—longer, darker, and exponentially worse.
Osiris’s face paled instantly. "What... what was that?"
Isabella slowly turned her head, eyes blank, voice flat: "I don’t know. You lived here, don’t you? You should know."
Osiris swallowed. "Well—I don’t have much mory of my past life."
She raised a brow. "Well you were literally JUST yapping about it monts ago."
"Yes but—" He pointed vaguely at his head. "I don’t rember much. I’m just... saying fragnts. Things that might be true."
"Okay," she said, nodding with mock politeness. Then she muttered under her breath, "That’s none of my fucking business."
Osiris blinked. "...What?"
Isabella kept walking, voice rising, "It’s almost the dark hour, genius. If you don’t have a place to keep your motherfucking ass and you’re wandering around like an abandoned mountain goat, you’re gonna be dinner for the creatures here. So stop talking to ."
She didn’t wait for a reply.
Didn’t slow down.
Didn’t even check if he followed.
She marched forward like a furious queen whose patience had expired yesterday.
Osiris stood there for a solid three seconds, just blinking.
She looked small.
She looked furious.
And sohow, she looked like the only honest person on the entire mountain.
"...Are you serious?" he called after her.
No reply.
He hurried to catch up, relief washing over his face the second he was walking beside her again. "Thank the stars," he sighed. "I’m coming with you. I’ll have a place to stay. This is exactly why I want to co with you—I won’t have anything to fear for."
Isabella rolled her eyes so hard they nearly exited her skull.
Her internal monologue was a warzone of insults:
Smug, foolish, useless fool.
Tall for no reason.
Looks like he was engineered in a sacred lab but has the brain of a decorative rock.
Out loud she said, "You’re so huge, yet you’re useless."
Osiris frowned. "I am... not useless."
"Mm-hm."
She didn’t even bother pretending to agree.
"And no," she added, "you’re not coming with to where I’m staying."
He stopped dead. "What do you an?"
"I just said what I said."
"You’re not explaining."
"You’ll see."
He stared at her like she had just told him that the moon was edible and he should take a bite.
"What do you an I’ll see?"
She ignored him.
Again.
Regally.
He tried a more pathetic approach. "Isabella—"
Silence.
"Isabella, at least tell if I’m walking to my death."
Nothing.
"Isabella, please."
She lifted her hand.
One finger.
Up.
The universal sign for: shut up or perish.
He shut up.
They walked deeper, the glowing stones turning blue, then silver, then green as the terrain shifted. Mist curled around their legs like lazy spirits. Strange plants glowed softly beneath the trees, humming gently like they were alive.
Finally, they reached it:
A clearing drowned in thick, swirling mist—so heavy the world beyond it was completely hidden. The grass was pale blue, frosted by the cold air seeping out from the shrouded space.
Osiris looked around, uneasy. "What... is this place?"
Isabella pointed forward. "That."
He stared at the mist, dread forming.
She sighed dramatically.
"Look, you better not co in. I’m not joking. The inhabitants of this place aren’t like the ones we had at the cave. Those were cute, sweet, and small."
Osiris squinted. "They were not cute."
"Shut up."
"What lives here, then?" he asked.
She stared at the mist like she had traumatic mories. "n-eaters."
Osiris coughed. "n-eaters?"
"They literally eat n," Isabella confird, crossing her arms. "They do NOT like n. They hate n. They look at n and automatically decide: crunchy snack."
Osiris stared at her.
Blink.
Blink.
"...If they hate n so much," he said slowly, "why are you in there?"
Isabella’s head snapped toward him so fast the air cracked.
He instantly regretted everything.
She glared up at him, voice ice cold. "Are you trying to call a man?"
He opened his mouth to explain—mistake.
She cut him off.
"First of all, you called flat-chested—"
"I DID NOT—"
"—AND NOW you’re trying to call a man?"
"No, I—"
"OH so you’re saying I look like a man?"
"That is not what—"
"So NOW I’m small AND a man? Wow. Wow. Osiris. Wow."
"I didn’t say—"
"Oh shut UP," she snapped.
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