Hug Me, Mountain Troll
Mountain trolls. Aggressive enough to chew through a person without a second thought. Cruel. Powerful monsters. And smart enough to take Esen down with a hostage ploy. Too clever by half—that's what makes them dangerous. If it weren't for Esen's record, I'd have dodged the local army, filed a report, and made damn sure that thing was dead. Professional soldiers hate seeing blood, so they outsource, sure—but there's a limit. Letting a cunning hunter like that roam free? Who knows what horrors it'd unleash on the locals.
Truth be told, when I saw Esen carted off injured, I'd already decided to report it to the army. Fuming that I couldn't avenge her myself, since I'm no fighter. But letting word of our party's strength leak? Can't have that. So the troll's corpse becomes Esen's kill, not the army's.
I shut my eyes to banish the lewd thoughts creeping in. This has nothing to do with some bullshit scenario where Esen's Tigress golden sun clan thinks I'm hot shit. Public and private. Keep 'em separate. Public and private.
"Eyes front, porter! Front!"
Guess she didn't like me closing my eyes on wyvern-back. Esen yelled from behind me, and I snapped them open.
"No need to shout. It's not my first rodeo."
"What if a bird smacks into us—?!"
Esen clung to my back, hollering. She looked a little scared, but I didn't call her out—pride and all. Still, for a valiant Tigress, she adapted fast. Me? At twelve, my first wyvern ride had me bawling like a baby and pissing myself.
"Wyvern's got eyes. It'll dodge a bird easy. Yell too loud, and you'll spook it—that's dangerous."
Esen went pale as a ghost. I quickly changed the subject.
"More importantly, how do we track the troll?"
"Yeah, how? I can't see shit down there!"
"We've got ways. Hold the reins a sec? Here."
Esen Taiga blanched whiter than when she first saw the wyvern. Porter like me dumping heavy responsibility on her? I leisurely pulled the beast cage from my packs.
A silver-furred weasel poked its head from the round cage, all fluffy. It flinched at the sunlight. This magical critter from the wilds hates bright spots—hides in dark crevices all day, sleeping. I wrapped the cage in my coat to block the wind, then coaxed the startled weasel with nuts.
The silver-furred weasel sniffed me and relaxed. Owner's here—no worries.
"Weasel, hunt."
I snapped my fingers at the satisfied beast. Its eyes sharpened. How's a lazy thing like this not extinct? Best hunter around.
I smeared leftover sulfur bomb residue from yesterday on tissue and held it to its nose. As it sniffed away, I gradually lowered altitude.
Esen stared blankly at my routine—until the weasel howled and whipped its head like a compass. She freaked.
I took the reins back, shoved the cage into her arms, and steered the wyvern toward the weasel's nose.
"No way... it's tracking the bomb smell from that blast in the troll's face yesterday?"
Esen caught on quick. With porter aptitude, she'd make a fine one.
"Silver-furred weasel doesn't miss. Troll's trailing that stench everywhere."
"I don't smell a damn thing."
Her deadpan hit, and I cracked up. Classic pride from a strength-obsessed race—kinda cute.
"Don't sweat losing to the little guy. You win everything else. Nose like that? Perfect for dragging you to the bastard."
A grin spread across Esen's face. Picturing revenge, probably. I patted her trembling-with-excitement shoulder.
"Go smash it."
We found the troll wandering the woods soon enough. Wyvern shadow swept overhead; it huddled, trembling. Watched us sniff its backtrail, roll in mud to mask its scent. Just like I'd told Esen. Scared. If we'd killed it on the spot, it'd never have retaliated. But we let the Tigress slip—and now a wounded beast's pride dragged her back.
Then it caught a whiff. Juicy human scent. It remembered—the human who'd lured the Tigress yesterday. Proof? Charging at us in a rage.
"GRRAAAAAH—!"
"Whoa. Troll."
Sucking a pricked finger from the needle jab, I waited. This lure? Yesterday's scent booster, but with my blood drops instead of sulfur. To call out a fleeing territory-abandoner with hunger. To it, I'm post-workout snack plus hostage insurance if the Tigress returns.
"Dumbass."
But it realized it'd been baited—too late. Esen dropped from the tree behind it.
Yesterday and today, Esen handled the surprises. My turn to gape.
A crack. That's it.
Troll staggered, then skull contents splattered backward as it crumpled. Esen, frozen in her punch pose, thrust her clenched fists skyward with a roar.
"Ahhh! Feels so good! You fucking piece of—!"
My ears rang. I stared at the fighter, spooked. I'd prepped traps thinking two-on-one was risky. But she killed it before it hit one. That easy.
She caught me eyeing the forgotten traps, grinned sheepishly. Kicked the pathetic troll corpse. It rolled, ass spearing a hidden pit stake first. Corpse convulsed; Esen grimaced.
"Your faces are something else."
"This counts as a trap kill, right? Don't be mad?"
"...I wasn't competing. I was helping."
"Whatever—we got it together. That massage worked wonders! I feel like I could fly!"
She booted another tree. Century-old trunk shredded like kindling under her playful kick from a twenty-year-old.
...Heard Tigresses were strong, but this? Born fighter aptitude, punches exploding on impact?
Her face glowed too bright. Old fatigue gone—that refreshing? Sure, avenged her grudge, no need to rush home. Fair to celebrate.
But then I thought of something—and dread hit.
No way.
Esen, bragging condition while punching stuff, turned to me—then stopped, sheepish. Awkward tone:
"Uh... thanks."
Embarrassed, she fidgeted, hands lost. I imagined one playfully smacking me—fought the urge to bolt.
"No sweat. You killed it. Badass."
I nodded slowly, eyes locked. Her face lit up; she brushed sawdust off her shoulder.
"Head back?"
—————
Staring up at the swanky hotel, Esen deflated again.
"This our inn? With what money?"
"Technically yours. Party expense."
"I can crash in the mountains..."
"30-hour train rides there and back, bored to death? That's no trip. Sleeping on rocks ain't travel."
I handed her the room key. ...Careful not to touch fingers, thanks to that suspicion.
"Not here to sightsee, but your condition might not be 100%—"
"Feels great now."
"Rest anyway. You collapsed once. Back to damp tents, you crash again—next job fails. Then what?"
"Get jumped by the kids back home."
Her blunt vocab nearly gutted me.
"Could happen? So this is prep for the next gig, not vacation. You nailed it—reward yourself a day."
Esen beamed. I stared, mesmerized. Pretty. Hard to believe bare fists evacuated troll brains.
She eyed the key. Spotted something odd.
"069 on the key—that's the room. But 1 on the guest card? One person?"
"Yup."
Casual answer, ominous comeback.
"Why?"
"Why what, Esen?"
"You not staying?"
"Porter carries load so fighter conserves strength. I'll find cheap digs."
"Porters get cheap beds?"
"Fighters need constant focus. Party saves cash. I'm no A-rank vet—newbie on thin ice with your crew."
"Cheaper option just hit me."
She shrugged.
"Crash in my room...?"
Her voice quivered. Tension. Anticipation. Dread hardened to certainty.
I cursed the party for leaving her alone like this. How do you abandon a girl in that state? Who knows what trouble.
Deep breath.
"Nah. Sex scandal in an all-women party? I'm fired."
Forgot the ponytail artifact crossdressing too—rushed here. Tank porter rep already sucks; I add infamy? 100k gold repayment? Jailhouse blues.
"I'll shut up."
"Not lovers—rumors twist bad."
"Gotta be lovers to share a bed?"
Sinister Tigress grin widened.
"Why just sleep? Could be just sleeping."
Vague words bred terror. I gulped, slapped coins on the counter.
"Innkeep, compensation."
"What're you babbling in foreigner tongue?!"
"Compensation? No services ordered yet."
"'Cause I'm smashing the window now."
Innkeep's panicked yell behind: "Sir?! Third floor—!"
I leaped amid shattering glass. Rolled on landing, absorbing impact.
A-rank porter defies terrain.
Signs started on wyvern-back. Her breath on me: too hot, ragged. Virgin like me? Overkill stimulation. Plus that blatant flirt.
Confirmed: Esen Taiga's in heat.
Tigresses ape cats—even seasonal estrus. Maybe she didn't notice. Stress or imbalance delays it like periods.
Solo fatigue blinded her? Now recovered, urges flood...
"Shit, shit!"
One more: Why pick a porter like me? Strong mates only, right? But caught in heat Tigress claws?
"Stop right there—!"
Dead meat. Humans can't outlast Tigress stamina. Old saying: bitten by tiger, stay sharp, live. Bull. Sharpen up before the bite.
I bolted full tilt, plotting city escape.
—————
Pathetic. Born porter, huh?
Brain aced troll hunt. Zero ideas for ditching stronger, faster party mate.
Last hope wyvern? Returned to owner ages ago.
She grabbed a fistful hair—messy tuft, no worse violence. Yet I flinched at her glance.
Who wouldn't chicken here?
Esen sat on the bed, hugging knees, toes wiggling. Gloomy.
"...Don't wanna sleep with me?"
Classic dumped twenty-year-old whine. Suddenly, I'm the villain.
We avoided eyes.
"No, it's not that I hate—"
"Said I was cuter than the weasel."
Blank moment—then recalled: "Minus smell, you beat it everywhere."
She'd grinned then. Misread as flirt? Mirror to Adamanthon's flag-chasing.
"I meant... physically, you win..."
"..."
Awkward silence reigned like disaster born of clumsiness.