“What?” Kelima shouted as she spun around, hastily drawing her sword.

  Terry continued leaning against the tree and petting Dusk as he watched the girl desperately parry the clawed slashes of some kind of big cat. It wasn’t something that Terry recognized immediately, mostly because it didn’t have stripes or spots. Plus, he didn’t have any idea how many species of big cats Chinese Period Drama Hell contained. He was pretty sure that there were only five or six species back on Earth, and none of them had a dust-gray coloring. Terry saw the big cat tense, thinking he might need to intervene. It seemed that Kelima had noticed too, because she rolled out of the way when the oversized feline tried to pounce.

  “You’re doing great!” shouted Terry. “Keep it up!”

  I’m not sure that was helpful, noted other-Terry.

  A sentiment that Kelima seemed to agree with since she took a moment to shoot him a death glare.

  Terry rolled his eyes and asked, Since when you do care about being helpful?

  I don’t. Not really. But if you distract her and she gets eaten, you’ll have to tell her mother. She’ll yell at you and probably cry. Meanwhile, you’ll be all cringing internally, and it gets damned uncomfortable in here when you do that.

  I’m glad to see that your concern for her well-being is not at all self-serving, said Terry with a mental shake of his head. It’s moving. Truly. I’m impressed by your growth. Plus, I’m not going to let her get eaten.

  Not on purpose, but you know as well as I do that things aren’t always that clean. Remind me. How many tragic death tropes are there?

  It’s too soon for that. I don’t like her well enough for it to be tragic beyond the baked-in tragicness of a life cut short. And even that idea seems pretty weak in this world. Right now, it’d just be inconvenient for me and sad for people who do like her.

  Other-Terry mulled that over for several seconds while Terry saw Kelima take out one of the big cat’s eyes with a slash that might have been on purpose or might have been a lucky, desperation shot. He got the mental impression of a shrug from that place in his head where the magical construct seemed to live.

  Yeah, you’re probably right about that, conceded other-Terry. Wait a second. Is that why you’re working so hard to not like her? Terry Williams, you hopeless romantic. Are you actually trying to protect her from those tropes by being an asshole all the time?

  I— Terry started, only to get cut off.

  You are, aren’t you? demanded Other-Terry while sounding almost gleeful at the prospect.

  You say that like you don’t already know, Terry shot back. You live in my head. Shouldn’t you already know?

  I live in your head, not your limbic system. I know things that you remember or that you think about. I can draw conclusions based on your past behaviors, but your past behaviors in this world are still pretty thin pickings. Your behaviors from back on Earth don’t allow for good predictions about what you’ll do in this very different scenario. Also, parsing out your complex emotional motives is–thank all the gods– beyond the scope of my responsibilities.

  Terry took a few seconds to consider all that before he responded.

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  And you don’t care about my motives.

  And I don’t care about your motives, agreed other-Terry cheerfully.

  But you care about this? Why?

  No, no, no. I don’t care about this. I am entertained by this. You were all freaked out that I was going to turn you into a homicide vagrant, and then you were putting in all the hard work to turn yourself into one. I was starting to think you were a sociopath who’d gotten adequate at passing for a bumbling introvert.

  Just say murderhobo! Terry yelled at the other consciousness.

  I will never stoop to that, said other-Terry in a tone of supreme dignity. But back to the point. I thought you were going to go all homicide vagrant, but, secretly, deep down in your squishy, kitten-petting, unicorn-adoring heart, you were trying to be a good guy in your own, completely incompetent, douchebaggy way.

  I honestly can’t tell if you’re trying to insult me or compliment me, thought Terry.

  Yeah. Me neither. I think my goals got tangled up there. Oh, hey! I think she’s about to win this thing.

  Terry had been keeping half an eye on the battle while monitoring the surrounding area for any other monsters that might be looking to swoop in and snatch an easy kill. Now, he gave most of his attention to Kelima and the big cat. They both looked beat to hell, although it appeared the oversized feline had gotten the worst of it. Kelima had mercilessly taken advantage of the monster’s shiny new blind spot and slashed that side of its body over and over again. If he had to guess, he’d say that the monster was suffering from massive blood loss. It was staggering now, rather than pouncing or leaping.

  That wasn’t to say that Kelima had gotten out of the encounter scot-free. She was definitely favoring her left side. He could see fresh blood from at least three places where the beast had managed to land a hit with its claws. However, they must not have been clean hits or he would have had to intervene already. The big cat, seeming to realize that it wasn’t going to win, apparently decided that it was going to take Kelima with it. If hunkered low, coiled its remaining strength, and froze. Terry blinked in surprise as he felt a towering aura of menace coming from… He looked down to see Dusk’s unblinking gaze locked onto the big cat. Kelima was either too tired to care or too focused to notice. The moment the monster froze, she drove forward and plunged her sword into the big cat’s body.

  The noble girl stumbled back from the monster. She looked to have used the last of her strength on that final strike. Terry expected the monster to do something. If failed meet that expectation, instead remaining frozen in place until life fled from its eyes. The now-lifeless body collapsed to the ground. Kelima had found a tree to help support her while she gasped for breath. Terry gave the kitten a suspicious look, but Dusk just yawned and promptly fell asleep. He dug something he expected to need out of his pack before stowing the little bundles of purrs in his pack. He sauntered over to Kelima, who was still gasping for breath.

  “Good job,” he said, giving her a thumbs up.

  “You,” she said, gasping, “are such,” more gasping, “a bastard.”

  “Categorically untrue,” replied Terry. “If you’d said I was a shit, or a prick, or an asshat, I’d have had no defense. You need to pick your insulting words with more care.”

  “Hate you,” she gasped. “So much.”

  “You should save that one. We haven’t even gotten to the critique yet,” said Terry. “Although, by the looks of you, it’ll have to wait. It appears that you might need a healing potion.”

  “No!” shouted Kelima.

  She tried to run from him, only to have her legs give out on her. She fell to the ground and started crawling away. Crawling away very slowly. That pretty much confirmed Terry’s suspicion that the girl was more badly injured than he could see. He needed to remember that she couldn’t shrug off blows the way that he could. It was entirely possible that the raw strength of the cat had damaged muscles or even cracked bones. Whatever the case, he was confident she was not going to be in any shape to continue their journey without a lot of rest or some enhanced healing.

  “No potion,” she mumbled.

  Terry couldn’t tell if she was losing consciousness or somehow got a mouth full of dirt when she fell.

  “Don’t be such a baby. It’s for your own good.”

  He crouched next to her, flipped her onto her back as gently as he could, and pressed the opened bottle to her lips. She feebly slapped at his arm and her eyes promised retribution as she almost involuntarily drank the magical liquid.

  “You prick!”

  Those two words were the only ones she managed to get out before the potion took effect and the screaming started.

  “There you go,” said Terry. “Good listening.”

  Other-Terry said, You realize she can’t hear anything you’re saying, right?

  Terry shrugged.

  It’s the thought that counts.