Rocky Roads

“Whhaaaaaat!” Rionriv screamed loud enough to wake the dead.

But, to be fair, the news wasn’t great.

“What do you mean I have tiger ears and a tail now?!”

She felt her body.

“Eeep—!” Rionriv shrieked, feeling the soft tiger ears that remained atop her head and the swishing tail behind her.

She covered her bare bosom with an arm, pointing the other in my direction as she released another cry.

“And I’m naked?! Iz! Turn around!”

I had already been keeping my eyes on the ground, only seeing images out of the corner of my vision. Regardless of this, I immediately obeyed.

Though what had already been seen could not be unseen, a fact that my racing heart could attest to.

No, calm down, breathe. I thought to myself, grabbing at my chest. Be strong. Behave in the face of your thinly veiled catgirl fetish.

“Yeah, sorry,” I said, taking an about-face. “But you’re feeling alright…right? The magic healed your wounds enough?”

“I’m in one piece, but it definitely DID NOT heal me right. I’m still partially a weretiger!” She grumbled as the sounds of shuffling filled the space. “Where’s that spare set of clothes? Ugh—fine, this will do.”

I carefully turned around, catching Rionriv as she slipped a flowy sky-blue dress that complemented the blue of her hair. I stealthily admired the tiny pink and white flowers sewn into the fabric. Watching as she pulled her red hair from beneath the cloth, allowing it to fall into place over her shoulders, I felt my heart skip a beat once more.

She sighed, looking over the summer dress and thick leather travel boots with a non-too-pleased expression.

“This is dumb. I could have sworn I brought my spare set of travel clothes. The last thing I want is to ruin the new dress I just got.”

“Do you want a pair of mine?” Aesandoral asked, lifting her bottomless bag.

“Don’t think that’ll work,” Rionriv responded, pointing between hers and Aesandoral’s sizable bust difference. “Anyways, if my nice dress gets ruined, Iz will have to buy me a new one.”

“Wait, what?” I now stepped back into the conversation. “What did I do to need to buy you a dress?”

“You’re the boss, right? Isn’t that part of the whole compensation aspect? I’m a weretiger because of this stupid side quest, so you owe me.”

“Okay, that’s fair. And because of that, I’ll buy you a lycanthropy antidote when we get back to the shop. But also, we just made so much money…go buy yourself a new dress.”

Rionriv huffed at the thought and, with an agitated swish of her new tail, began to march back to her tent. Gathering up our things was fast, with everyone eager to move on from weretiger territory. After a quick bite of breakfast, we made our way out.

With our return to the road, we followed the well-worn path that threaded the Greybrine Lakes. Keeping a watchful eye on our surroundings, ensuring no creatures came from the water to pick us off as unsuspecting travellers.

Unfortunately for my triop allies, over the course of the trip, I spent as much time looking for threats as I did glancing towards Rionriv.

With every slight gust, I glanced the sorceress’ way just to watch her dress blow gently in the wind. She anxiously fiddled with her tiger ears and felt where her human ones had become a seamless part of her hairline.

Occasionally, her tail, which poked through the carefully cut hole in the dress back, would sway wildly as she looked around. I smiled at the sight of her reaching back in increasingly failing attempts to tame it. It was in these times that she would catch me looking at her, often with a smirk on my face.

“What?” She would ask, annoyed.

“Nothing.” I would reply coyly, looking away as I tried to calm my racing heart.

She may have hated her new look, but I found it cute. I was so accustomed to the tough and commanding Rionriv that this new awkward tiger-girl in a sundress was causing my heart to flutter.

She’s so cute, I should tell her. I thought throughout the day, my emotions slowly wearing me down.

Though these moments were often followed up with reprimands like—Ah, oh no. My thinly veiled fetish—and—Why does my story world do this to me!

Making it to the other side of the lakes by early afternoon, the remainder of the day went by uneventfully. Eventually, we bedded down in the hillsides just beyond the lakes, setting up a much more condensed campsite this time.

We had learned from our last encounter that a spaced campsite, while better concealed, has its disadvantages. Mainly, it separated us in the event of tiger ambushes.

It was then, later in the evening, as we bedded down, that I approached Rionriv.

“Hey, Ri,” I called out, approaching her just before she began to crawl into her tent, and I was to go on watch.

“What?” She turned towards me.

Rionriv’s face seemed upset by the interruption, but her tail had created a question mark as her ears perked up. I knew enough about cats to understand these subconscious reactions betrayed her hardened expression.

“Oh, I just wanted to say I’ll do whatever I can to help you cure your weretiger curse. Promise.”

I paused for a moment, rubbing at the back of my neck as I looked down bashfully. My heart began to race as I thought about my next words, choosing them carefully.

“And I know you hate the ears and tail, but—umm, I just wanted to let you know that I think you wear them well. And—you, um, look really cute.”

Rionriv’s tail reached up to a sharp point as I watched her expression shift. It was hard to tell in the dim light cast by the campfire, but I believed I saw the faint hint of blush against her dark cheeks. She smiled softly, looking down, brushing some hair behind where her human ears once rested.

I felt something stir inside me before it began to reveal itself on the outside, too.

“I—uh, goodnight!” I laughed awkwardly and rushed back to the campfire, where I adjusted my tightening pants.

The night passed without issue, and after a pleasant breakfast to start our day, we began the final leg of our trip to Fallowfield.

The mood was sombre by this point, and I couldn’t help but wonder if I had said more to Sharzin the night before, if we could have been better prepared for the attack.

But it had been too late for that. So instead of holding onto unnecessary regret, I filed these thoughts away and promised to do better.

We arrived late afternoon on the third day in the town of Fallowfield. It was a small, wild-west-looking town which was mainly a place travellers passed through on their way between the Capital Cities.

Other than the Spotted Lettuce Bed and Bar, which functioned as a bed, bar, and public hall, there was one other notable establishment in the town. This was The Bread and Crumble Patisserie, owned and operated by the Seed family for nearly twenty years.

After renting a room for the night at the bed portion of the bed and bar, we decided not to waste any time and headed straight to the patisserie. Passing weathered homes and shops, we eventually rounded a final corner and saw it. Of all the buildings, it appeared the most well-maintained, which wasn’t saying much. But what it lacked in appearance, it made up for in other forms

Approaching the shop, we were overwhelmed with the wonderful smells of baked goods wafting out from the open door. The front of the building had large glass windows that revealed delicious-looking and well-picked-over sweets.