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Katya huffed with pride as she stared at her handy work.

It had been a few days since their much-needed bath and cloth-washing. Now that she knew where the stream was, she had made daily trips to get water from it. Technically, she could wash the clothing there, but Mark had procured a wooden tub to do the task the day after their bath. A “Ba-sin” he called it in the language of the magical box?

Point was, she could press her face into their blankets now and sigh with happiness when they smelled soapy.

It was getting colder, so cold in fact that trees were starting to bleed in their leaves and turn the world red. The jacket Mark had gifted her was still fantastic, but Katya would die of shame as the daughter of a seamstress if all she did was patch holes; she’d had, with all of her knowledge and secret techniques improved upon the alien cloth. Without grossly bulking it up, she’d added layers made of hide and, because it would be a sin to break the logic of an article of clothing, added more pockets to it.

Actually, pockets were great. Pockets were amazing. Pockets were proof that her male’s people weren’t utterly bereft of civilized ideas and she would carry this one back to her tribe. But that was for the future.

Right now, she was running out of gut thread, and animals were becoming scarcer and scarcer to catch. That meant she either had to save some for the topside winter or somehow hope that the right caves with fabric mushrooms were nearby. Or perhaps she could pull apart some of her male’s magical rope….but he was really stingy with it now for some reason.

And that, when she hadn’t even seen him use the net that she gifted him!

But fine, whatever, she would be the adult this time and put up with his unreasonableness.

To be fair to him, he’d taken down the raggedy roof that he initially had put and replaced it with some earthen shingles that he had lying around. She initially thought they were some poorly made effigies of some kind but, nope, they were roofing after all.

More proof that his people were not as primitive as she had first thought….

Well, they now covered the walls of his home and made for a strange, if comfy, overground cave.

Honestly, it could have been shit and she would still have appreciated it. Well, no, it could have been shit and she still would have liked it because it made dragging him to her cave easier, but she could appreciate the effort Mark put into it. More than that, though, it indicated something that made her giddy.

Universally known was that males did not put much thought into where they slept. It’s like the saying goes, “When you’ve no choices and night comes, any warm hole is good enough.”

Katya giggled quietly at that for a moment.

But yes, men didn’t pay much attention to their sleeping conditions…except when they did.

Mark could be moody, given to fits of strange melancholia, and weird with that toneless language of his, but it was painfully clear to her that he had started setting roots.

Which, sure, wasn’t exactly ideal because she needed to bring him over to her tribe. But it was proof, if anything, that actually staking a claim on him was merely a formality at this point. An important formality, unvoiced agreements tended to rot, but she felt that she could all but consider herself a wife at this point.

Even in the worst circumstances, where she saw no way to spirit him away into the mountain, the temperature topside was only going to get colder and the winds more awful. If she could just bloat with some squirts she was sure she could convince him to go to her home. She and he would know enough to communicate with each other by that point, she was sure.

“Just for the season” she would tell him, coaxing him with the promise of warmer stone and the care of her family.

And then once he stepped foot inside her caves she’d slam the door close behind him and never let him go.

Katya sighed at the prospect of that day, hopefully not too far.

Though, if she was going to be honest, living here alone with her male? Wasn’t too bad. But she couldn’t exactly show him off to anyone here, so it was still the inferior option.

There were none of her sisters that she could make jealous with the sound of their lovemaking. No friends she could “humbly” brag about being tired all the time. No old grandmas she could display the many children she’d surely have.

No rivals she whose face she could rub Mark into, and then, went they inevitably went to ask about him, smugly tell them “no.”

Mind, their intimacy could still use some work, but given their inability to communicate not being too pushy had been the only call. Now that she could ask for things? Well, she gave, and got, handys often now. She even got away with oral sex.

She’d built a latter to her second dicking, and all she needed to do was stay the course.

Honestly though, sometimes she suspected that all she needed to do was climb his lap on a particularly cold night, take out his meat snake and try to break her hips. But men were complicated about sex, so there was no need to take that chance.

No, no, all she needed to do was catch him one day when he was utterly relaxed. She’d need to lead to it but, given how they could actually sort of talk, she could smoothly start things by appealing to his pride. Get him in a good mood and then get started with a handy or a blowjob then, all of a sudden, stop.

She’d get naked at that point and offer some good old fucking as the only alternative to go forward-the sky went dark around her and broke Katya out of her thoughts.

She was starting to stoke the fireplace, not the oven which was now inside the house, to smoke some fruits and meats. The larder of her male appeared to be extensive, but it wasn’t big enough to last the winter for them both. It was a fairly normal chore and so she relaxed as she coaxed with flint and fan on her male-made chair.

Clouds hid the sun topside all the time, as she had learned, and happened so often that she didn’t even notice it now. With the sparks dancing in front of her, requiring her attention to keep alive and encourage to grow, she had no reason to notice it now of all times.

But something inside her made the hairs on her neck stand.

A cloud hid the sun and occluded her, so she took her attention away from her fire and looked up.

And her eyes widened at what she saw.

—--------------------------------

Mark cracked his neck as he carried some water home.

If he had known that he would have to start doing this chore…well, he probably would have told Katya about the stream sooner either way, but carrying water every day still sucked. Not as much as not taking a bath in a month, though, but a chore was still a chore.

And that, when he’d spent the last three days getting the roofing done.

The tiles were some of the first things he bought and then, when he realized how much of a pain in the ass it was to transport them, made here himself. He had foolishly assumed that, if he worked every day, he could get his home done in a single season, but it was an expectation that was quickly adjusted in short time. Here he was though, four years later, actually getting to use the stupid tiles.

He’d be lying if he said it didn’t feel good.

He was still sore from climbing up into his roof and setting them one by one. In this, Katya came in clutch a lot of the time since she could pass them to him. But it wasn’t like she didn’t do her own share of chores, and she still managed to find time to help him. And that point, how could he say “no” when she asked him to get water?

“I am going to take a bath after this,” Mark muttered to himself as he walked with two buckets in each of his hands.

Life after the stream had changed for him. It was as if a wall that had existed between him and the little green woman had shattered, and, now? Now Katya was constantly over him. And Mark…Mark could not say he minded.

He knew precisely nothing about how these things were supposed to go, but he was just at the point where he was sure he could start returning the attention.

Of course, there still loomed the deaths of her friends, and he supposed he was barely fluent enough in her goblin language to sort of talk about it, but if that hadn’t reared its ugly head yet, surely he could wait until he could better explain himself? It wasn’t like that had gotten in the way yet. Maybe it never would? But no, that made no sense.

Unless..but no, it was better to clear the air.

When he was ready, of course.

His relationship with Katya aside, there was also the matter of his house.

Like the fact that he would have to abandon it.

That thought had only been on his mind every day since he had murdered all of Katya’s friends, but time and space had made him start having doubts.

Sure, he would have to abandon the house, probably. But if he did….did it have to be now?

If he trapped and caught enough animals, if he picked and harvested enough wild vegetables and fruit, If he made his house a shelter for winter storms and gathered all the wood he’d need to keep warm in these mountain hills…he could make it. Surely, even with an extra mouth, he could.

And what did he get from abandoning it now, anyway? He’d brought the basin together again, and that was a pain in the ass to do. Self-satisfaction aside, the roofing had been good work and it would be a pity to at least not use it some.

He had plans for a good sturdy door, too, using the planks from the sled that he’d brought this time.

His mind fluttered with thoughts of angles and the metal hinges that he’d procured just for that task.

The windows, if need be, could also simply be sealed up.

He’d have to say “goodbye” to Katya at some point, he was sure. And the sooner he did it, the better it would be, he supposed. It was a disservice to give her the wrong impression of what he intended, and he spoke well enough now to communicate that at least, but surely-

-surely that could wait a little longer.

Fall was falling now and Winter was coming soon. He’d already spent too much time here, as it was, so what was a few more months? At least enough to make it clear through the worst of the ice and snow.

And in the meantime, he could make that new door for his cabin. In the meantime, he could get ahead and maybe even make some rudimentary wooden windows to shut away the winter storms.

In the meantime, he could abide the tiny green woman’s presence, and-and make things nice for her while he came up with the words that he needed to have to apologize and say goodbye.

Nobody had all the time in the world, but surely he had time for this. No, rather, he had a duty to this. And so, necessity given way to new priorities, he was simply doing the most sensible things of all.

Urgency worked against him in this instance, so he simply had to be patient. He simply had to wait, until the right moment came up. Until the right circumstances showed themselves. Until it was time to do what he needed to have done.

And if that took a long time? Well, then that’s what it took. His mother had always told him “Give time, time.” so, perhaps, he ought to listen to her more.

His back ached from roofing his home, and his hands burned from carrying pales of water, but his heart felt light as he made the bend and saw Katya working hard to stoke the flames of the outside fireplace.

“Katya!” he called to her, if only to get a little help with one of the buckets, She’d probably expect him to get the fire started after that, but that meant learning some more of her goblin language while he sat by her side, so it wasn’t a particularly horrible thought.

But she didn’t respond to him.

No, she wasn’t even looking at him.

She was looking at the sky and Mark did the same.

Just in time to see a blur slam into the fireplace.

“Katya!” Mark called as sparks, dust and ashes flew up, obscuring the clearing and making him drop his loads.

A whole trip’s worth of water spilled into the ground as a shriek, animalistic and avian, shocked the air and seized his heart.

Before his very eyes, wings flapped the dust away.

Before his very eyes, a quadruped whose shoulders reached his chest stomped all over his scattered fireplace.

Before his eyes, an eagle’s head connected to a bear’s body locked eyes with him and made him want to run.

A Gryphon. An honest-to-goodness Gryphon. A live one, here in his home, literally crashing his place and looking at him.

One of its eyes was swollen shut and was bleeding pus. The feathers that covered its whole body were beautiful but ruffled in its sides. Sides that had “bald” spots with no feathers. “Bald” spots with no feathers revealing red and blue skin.

And a gleaming half-chewed-off metal stud sticking from one of the said spots in its ribs.

He knew who this Gryphon was.

“Mark!” Katya shrieked from somewhere in the dust cloud and Mark’s stomach dropped.

A figure ran out of it, heading straight towards their home.

However defenseless Mark was compared to the animal, this took the Gryphon’s attention. It’s beak snapped in her direction, and with no hesitation, ran after her.

“Katya!” Mark screamed as the little woman ran into their cabin, the Gryphon hot on her trail. He gasped in relief when she made in, but the Gryphon after her didn’t stop his chase.

Mark had not managed to make a door for his home yet, but it shouldn’t have matter;

The Gryphon was too large for the entrance. There wasn’t enough room for him.

But before Mark’s very eyes, the Gryphon slammed it’s clawed paws in the front frame of his house.

And collapsed it under its weight.

“MARK!” Katya screeched from inside and Mark found himself running towards the Gryphon before he even thought of a way to take on the apex predator.

He had nothing on him except his utility knife. And that would do precious little to an animal that could disembowel him in the blink of an eye. But at that moment, he would have gladly taken it on naked.

But he didn’t even manage to get to that.

The roof of his house exploded just as he was getting there, and the Gryphon flew up.

Katya in its grasp.

“No,” Mark clenched his teeth as he watched the bird grasping his goblin through the jacket she’d stolen from him, the many layers that she had sewn in it managing to keep the claws from piercing through.

He saw her struggle and wiggle as the Gryphon flew away and away.

He saw both of them get smaller and smaller until….until Katya slipped out of the jacket.

And fell on a bank of snow, off by a mountain peak.

The Gryphon gave a shriek and dived after her as she slid down the snow and disappeared from his vision.

“Katya?” Mark asked as the wind picked up where the Gryphon had left and blew away the rest of the dust.

There were no sounds on the Gryphon’s wake, besides the shrill of the wind. Not the calming sound of crackling fire, nor the incessant chatter of his tiny green woman.

The sound of the wind sounded deafening in their absence.

Mark was a logical man who measured things on a scale made of his life. He took risks, but never those that were incredibly unlikely to pay off. He’d been surviving for most of his life and the cabin was his first true attempt at living.

But at that moment, the worth of everything went out the window.

A rational mind could conclude that the sort of fall he just saw Katya take would have surely killed her. A rational mind would see that the Gryphon wasn’t the sort of animal he could beat on his lonesome, right where he was as he was.

With the help of a squad of marksmen, or the help of many more prospectors, a rare old world rifle or even just a trap of his making he could…

He could do what he was about to do anyway.

Because it didn’t matter. None of it. Not the risks and not his chances of succeeding.

Mark had to go after them.

Assuming that Katya survived, and he would, the Gryphon would be after her. That meant time was of the essence.

But before he took off…before he braved the mountains and the Gryphon, Mark allowed himself a deep breath and made the deliberate decision to sacrifice a few moments to take a quick inventory of himself.

He had to sacrifice some of the time he didn’t have.

It had been more than a month, now, since he had fought in Camp and since his deathmatch with the goblin gang. His wounds since then had healed, for the most part, and shouldn’t be much of a worry. Assuming the Gryphon didn’t get to her quickly, he could climb to where he had seen them go.

So he could, at least, get to the fight. That done, he desperately looked for his tools.

Thankfully, his machete was outside, among the rubble of the fireplace, and it was not worse for wear. He found its sheath under the rubble of his cabin in short order, and the scattering of shingles did not manage to hide the fur coats and ponchos that he’d made to replace his jacket.

He donned all of them on.

His nylon rope was still in his backpack and he found his climbing tools inside his tent. His climbing hook was still intact along with the net that Katya gifted him, the one with the pain in the ass knots- they were there too, next to his backpack.

He took them too.

And before he went off running after his woman, he hesitated a bit as the glint of plastic underneath the roofing caught his eye.

It was the radio, and it was toast.

But the battery next to it? It…wasn’t.

So he grabbed it and stuffed it into his backpack too, his hands shaking as worry and desperation finally broke through his patience, telling him that he had to go NOW.

Maybe there were other things that could have helped him save Katya. Certainly, Mark had a lot of stuff.

But it was already a miracle that he had stayed behind to get this much.

“Please be safe,” Mark half begged and half prayed as he set out for the peaks where he saw his goblin fall.

All without giving his destroyed home a second glance.