"Aelina, I... I don't think I can make it. My body's going cold... I just want to sleep. I must be dying—the arrow must've pierced my heart."

Aelina lifted her face impatiently from scanning the ground. "Cut the dramatics. Death’s nowhere near you yet."

"But I... I can’t even stand."

"Alright, alright." Aelina approached, holding a roll of pale yellow bandages—salvaged from sweat-soaked mercenary undershirts. She crouched, and the moment her fingers touched the crossbow bolt’s end, Fro cried out in pain. Eyes shut tight, he whispered, "I won’t make it back. The bolt’s buried too deep. Please... take my last words to my mother. My home is—"

"Done. Bolt removed. Wound bandaged. Cleaned." The Silverhaired Maiden stood over him, a fresh crossbow bolt resting in her palm. She scooped up the greatsword from the dirt and tossed it to the Elf. "You should be able to stand now."

Fro pushed himself up. It wasn’t as hard as he’d feared. Leaning on the sword, he touched his wound beneath the Chainmail and tunic. Tight bandages bound the gash, a soft square of gauze gently covering it. *Aelina’s strength is truly miraculous.*

"Can you swing that sword?"

"Yes. Of course."

The Elf, giddy with relief, swung the blade—then winced and lowered it as pain shot through his side.

"Barely," Aelina said flatly. She pointed at the groaning mercenaries. A few less-injured ones tried crawling away, only to collapse with fresh crossbow bolts jutting from their backs. "Finish them. Quickly."

Fro glanced at the Rapier at Aelina’s waist, then at her unyielding expression. He obeyed, methodically ending each wounded human. Aelina followed, stripping every corpse of useful gear.

"Twenty-four kilograms of iron. This world is painfully primitive." She dumped metal scraps into a small wooden cart. The Elf leaned against a tree, eyes closed, sword propped under his arm. *Taming this Golden Fur is progressing smoothly,* Aelina mused. *I’ve already cemented my authority. Critical, really—he’s the nearest male specimen. If he ever gets lustful ideas... my grand interdimensional ambitions might devolve into an RBQ trip.*

Looting finished swiftly. Aelina lifted a pouch of metal coins, listening to their clink. She traced the crude engravings. *In human society, currency is trivial. But ancient records say people bled and starved over these little metal discs.*

*This Golden Fur sold me for six gold coins.* Anger flared. *This body took me thirty years to build—plus sniffing socks! But if apes crave these trinkets... I’ll drown him in them. Carrot and stick. Taming him won’t take long.*

She turned to the Elf. Up close, she saw beads of cold sweat on his pale forehead, his eyes tightly shut. Aelina jingled the coin pouch. "Your favorite thing. All yours."

Fro cracked open his eyes weakly. "Consider it payment for reforging your sword."

"Hm? Oh—I see. You think I’m mocking you." Aelina tilted her head, a gesture her body made instinctively. "Take it whenever you wish."

"I’m not."

The Elf sounded offended. Aelina simply turned away, humming as she tapped her Magic Wand against the earth. A tunnel entrance yawned open. She conjured a flat wooden cart just big enough for one person. "Fro. Lie down."

"Why?"

"You need rest."

"No. I’m strong." Fro refused to be pulled along. Aelina’s starry eyes held no emotion as she glanced back. "Then keep up."

Fro took it as disdain. Gritting his teeth against the pain, he shouldered his pack from the cart and followed her into the black tunnel. The Silverhaired Maiden guided the cart with one hand, the Wand’s soft blue light dissolving earth ahead. In the darkness, that glow haloed her silhouette—a faint blue ring around her form. It reminded him of the clear sky the day they met. That day, after weeks of gloom, the heavens had blazed blue. He’d lain in a bed of dead leaves, gazing up, reaching as if to touch the sky itself...

Suddenly, Fro felt her figure drifting farther away. Or perhaps she’d always been unreachable. Her shape blurred. He stretched out a hand—but she was as distant as that endless blue sky.

*Thud.*

The sound of his collapse echoed through the tunnel.

Aelina stopped. Fro lay motionless on the ground. She knelt, checking his pulse. *Unconscious. Shock. Probably infection.*

The Golden Fur’s collapse didn’t shake her calm. She eased him into a sleeping bag of leather and linen, then sat on a wooden chair reshaped from the cart. Staring at Fro’s ashen face, two voices warred inside her.

*Save him!* Rationality roared. *You need this strong Golden Fur! Without him, how will you raid camps? How punish those filthy apes who insulted you? It only takes a little milky liquid.*

"*Only*?" Dignity shrieked back. *A three-hundred-year virgin! A citizen of the stellar age! Nursing a crude, stupid ape?!*

"We have no choice."

"There’s always another way!" Dignity howled. *Your mind outshines all human history combined! Let him die in the dark—he was foolish enough to sell you!*

*He’s useless now.*

Aelina’s fingers drifted to her sword hilt. They tapped the guard. Finally, a soft sigh filled the tunnel.

She bound thick cloth over his eyes. Taking a wooden cup, she looked down at the swell beneath her thin robe. *Snow-capped mountains. Thick with snow. Just a warm breath... a slight rise in temperature...* Milky streams flowed swiftly, filling the cup far beyond her estimate.

Flushing crimson, Aelina set the warm cup aside and hastily redressed, sealing the "snow" away. She gripped the cup, glaring at Fro’s peaceful face. *So tempting to kick him... but he might die.* Teeth clenched, she lifted his head and pressed the cup to his lips.

"Spill one drop," she hissed, "and I’ll kick you. Hard." She paused, remembering her foot was an erogenous zone. "*Whack* your backside with an iron rod!"

Fro smiled in his sleep.

"*Drink*. Choke on it for all I care."

When the cup was empty, she dropped it and let his head thud to the ground. She hurled the cup into the darkness. Fro sighed contentedly. Aelina scowled. Pacing, she fantasized about a colossal harem in the Elven realm—filled with pointy-eared maids. She’d wake daily to kisses, ride in a carriage pulled by the Elven Queen and her entire female lineage, touring her harem while forcing this Golden Fur to watch. *While he eats. Sleeps. Even relieves himself. And he’ll memorize the schedule!*

The fantasy soothed her rage.

By the time Fro stirred—tenthousand-one-hundred-ninety-seventh harem design discarded—candlelight flickered on the stone walls. Aelina stood facing the rockface, muttering to herself. She turned as if sensing him, her starry eyes holding that familiar, unreachable distance. *She knows everything.*

"You’re awake."

"I... had such a sweet dream." He wanted to share it. "So warm. Happy. Like I never wanted to wake. I dreamed of—"

"Summer," Aelina cut in sharply. "Lying in a grassy field, sucking milk from a mooing cow’s udder."

"Aelina! What kind of absurd dream is that?"

"*Absurd*? Perfect word." She rolled her eyes. "Keep talking. Don’t stare. I was dreaming too—designing a system where everyone’s put to *proper* use."

"I dreamed of my mother. Like I was a baby again. Her warm arms... my father gently pinching my cheek—"

"Ah. Gorging on milk."

"Aelina, every child cherishes being held by their mother."

"You forgot the *milk* part."

"Why do you keep fixating on that?" Fro flushed. "Every child is nursed by their mother."

"Not me."

Fro studied her flawless, calm face. Pity stirred in him. "I’m sorry, Aelina. I didn’t know."

"Save your pity," she said coolly. "In my world, it’s normal. Most have no parents. Primitive breeding is obsolete."

"What? Impossible! How does your race survive?"

"We cracked reproduction centuries ago. Machines birth us." She looked at him like he was simple.

Fro shook his head. *She’s using fantasy to escape her grief.* "What’s our next move?" he asked carefully. "I deserve to know this time."

"Simple." Aelina pointed upward. "Midnight. Camp above us. We raid it."

Despite bracing himself, Fro gasped. "By the Queen—you’re mad! Just the two of us?"