Felaryan flashes

At the bottom of the food chain - Tina and Joanna's story

It had been raining that night in Felarya, a heavy downpour which had kept most of the forest's residents sheltering as best they could. Beings who relied on their sense of sight, smell or hearing to avoid predators knew better then to venture out into the rain, where all their senses would be dampened, and where the wet ground would slow their escape. The rain also hampered the predators themselves, making it more difficult for them to track and spot, or smell, their prey. Rainy days were times when lives were spared… and when some predators went hungry.

Only the mermaids had been happy. Slithering up out of the lakes and rivers onto muddy ground, their bodies kept moist by the pouring rain, the luckiest had fed on creatures and people sheltering in bushes, under trees or in tents too close to the waterside… The mermaids, and also a few dryads, snatching passers-by who, their gaze lowered against the heavy rain, had not looked up in time to see the smiling face in the tree towering above them. As the sun began to rise over the vast, dangerous jungle, several dryads could tilt their head back and open their mouth to take in the falling water, drinking the rain, letting it trickle down their throat into their stomach, onto a sometimes still squirming human or neko.

Such concerns was far from tiny Joanna's mind, as she slept snuggly in her new underground home.

Joanna was a tomthumb. Or at least, she was thought of as one by her adoptive tribe. She matched them in appearance: human in looks, but barely a few centimetres tall. Yet she had come from another world, a whole different reality, a place called Earth… where she had been a snackagirl, coated in lemon flavouring and purchased by humans as food.

It had been her incredible luck that those humans had been shifted into Felarya by an uncommon dimensional disturbance, where they had promptly been eaten by the gentle giantess Milly. The latter had rescued Joanna -too small to be considered food-, and had entrusted her to the care of the Alsumi, a tribe of tomthumbs living underground beneath her simple wooden hut. With no way home -and no desire to go back there in any case-, Joanna had begun to discover a whole new world. As part of the tribe.

She had been shy at first, but the Alsumi had welcomed her warmly… and had soon put her to work, getting her to help out with various simple, odd-job activities. She was being rapidly integrated. At present, she was fast asleep in the small chamber they had given her, a room dug into the hard earth and consolidated with wooden walls, a floor and a ceiling. Lighting was provided by a strange, permanently luminous lichen attached to the earth through gaps in the wood. It was all extremely basic, but not uncomfortable. Her bedding and blanket were soft and warm, woven from some kind of plant she could not identify. She lay curled up and snuggled in them now, facing away from the opening out into a passageway -there was no door-, her chest rising and falling in rhythm with her slow, steady breathing.

Most tomthumbs were light sleepers, used to waking up at the barest hint of a suspicious noise, or an unfamiliar presence. But Joanna was not, just one of the signs of how different she remained, four days after settling in here. She slept soundly, tired out after a hard day's work followed by a large meal and a tribal party the evening before. She went on sleeping even as a figure crept into her room and tip-toed up to her bedding, then stood looking down at her. The figure smiled, knelt down, and rocked her shoulder gently.

“Joanna…”

The snackagirl started, pulled into wakefulness, and turned quickly, pulling the blanket with her. She found herself looking up into the face of a tomthumb girl in her twenties, about Joanna's own age, with short-cut blond hair and pretty, dark green eyes. The girl grinned, and whispered:

“Wakey-wakey! You've been sleeping in. The sun rose at least seven clocks ago.”

Joanna groaned, rubbed her eyes, then yawned, stretching beneath her blanket. That meant it was barely dawn. The Alsumi were, for the most part, early risers. Their clock -she had been amused to find- was a single time-keeping apparatus of which they seemed particularly proud. It consisted in two gigantic (by tomthumb standards) wooden boxes, fixed together with only a small hole between them. The device was half-filled with sand. The time the sand took to trickle fully from one box into the other constituted `one clock', the basic measure of time. The apparatus was kept in the subterranean fields, where there were always people present to turn it upside down -`clock it round'- every time one box was empty. During the day at least. The Alsumi did not seem to bother with time-keeping at night.

“Mmmph,” she mumbled, closing her eyes again for a moment. “Tina, I don't call getting up at dawn `sleeping in'.” She gave another yawn, and sighed. “Am I getting up for any particular reason?”

“Yep,” Tina said cheerfully. “You and I are going fruit-picking. Outside. So hurry up, because we need to get moving before all the predators come out looking for breakfast.” She stood. “It's just stopped raining, apparently, so the water tanks are all full up. You can give yourself a quick wash. I've got you some fresh clothes, and a towel.” She draped them over the only chair in the room.

“Blah.” Joanna sat up, pulling her blanket up to cover her bare chest and maintain her modesty. Unlike most beings in Felarya, the Alsumi wore clothes, woven from hand-made cloth - light, simple and comfortable, yet not unesthetic. Which suited her perfectly; she had no wish to wander around naked. She had been forced into nakedness for far too long as a snackagirl. On the other hand, she had been dismayed to find that the Alsumi did not believe in doors; anybody could walk past your room and glimpse you in the nude. “All right; all right. I'm getting up.” She smiled, sleepily. Her long, soft, pale blond hair was a mess, ruffled by her sleep, and her pale brown eyes still looked tired.

“Meet me just inside the usual entrance as soon as you're ready,” Tina told her, kindly, and walked out of her bedroom.

Joanna watched her leave, and ran her hand loosely through her untidy hair. With another sigh, she stood, allowing to bedcovers to fall away. She picked the towel up from the chair, and wrapped it round herself, then stepped out of her room, into the passageway.

The Alsumi's shelter was a large network of burrowed chambers underground, all interconnected through a maze of passageways dug through the earth, and held together with wooden panelling. It was an impressive feat of primitive architecture, elaborated with fairly basic tools. The network contained sleeping chambers, which offered little privacy, as well as communal workshops and much larger chambers designed for tribal debates, celebrations, and other activities which involved the community as a whole. Other rooms were given over to agriculture. Their earth ground was not covered over by any wooden ceiling, and all manner of useful plants were cultivated within them. The tomthumbs had become experts in growing plants which required only water, rich soil and the surprisingly bright light provided by phosphorous lichen. Most of the tribe's food came from its subterranean fields.

And then of course there were the bathrooms, which was where Joanna was heading now. The Alsumi's water came mainly from wooden tanks which were opened to the skies when it rained. It was then distributed wherever needed, including into containers kept in the communal bathrooms.

Which, sadly, were equally lacking in privacy.

Joanna smiled rather awkwardly as she walked into the nearest bathroom chamber, and found two other people soaking in carved-out stone bathtubs. They smiled at her pleasantly, then respectfully averted their gazes as she drew water from the container, and poured it into into an unused bathtub. It was cold, of course. The tomthumbs rarely used fire, and definitely saw no purpose in heating their bathwater. In a network of tunnels and chambers entirely panelled in wood, an excessive use of fire would be an unacceptable hazard. With a little sigh, Joanna unwrapped her towel from round herself, and eased herself carefully into the cold water.

* * *

“Ah, there you are.”

Tina had been leaning against the wooden wall panel of one of the passageways leading into the outside world. Filtered rays of sunlight, unseen in the rest of the underground compound, cast their pattern over her skin, and the wood of the tunnel. She straightened up casually as Joanna approached, and smiled at her.

“Please tell me the weather's warm outside,” Joanna said, with feigned sullenness. “And dry. I'm still not getting used to cold baths. In public.”

Tina giggled, but gave her a look of sympathy.

“It's warm,” she said. “And it's not raining. But the ground will be wet and soggy.” She glanced down, noting that her friend was barefoot, and nodded her approval. “Good morning, by the way,” she added in a cheerful voice, as something of an afterthought. “Come on, let's go. Oh, and here's something to eat as we go.” She handed her a belt with a pouch, as the two of them began walking up the slope towards daylight. She was also carrying two large, empty bags, which she kept to herself.

Joanna opened the pouch. It contained pieces of fruit, two wooden pots with a mixture of fresh and dried vegetables, and wraps made from edible leaves with some sort of paste inside. She picked one out, and looked at it curiously.

“What's this?”

“Something my aunt made for you. The paste has elori bark, carinra, a bit of drakewillow, shemra, kelip…”

“What's shemra?”

“Oh, it's a plant. Sort of… small, pale green, it grows straight out of the earth. Quite crisp. Lots of goodness in it.”

“But kelip are insects, aren't they?” Joanna asked, frowning a little.

Tina nodded. “Very tiny things. You can swallow them whole, but if you chew they're kind of crunchy…” She trailed off, seeing the look of discomfort on her friend's face. “Oh, Joanna. Come on. They're perfectly edible.”

Joanna grimaced. “I don't really want to eat insects.”

“Well, you can't just go eating only fruit and vegetables all the time.”

“I can try,” the former snackagirl said. “Insects is kind of… eww.”

Tina sighed. “In that case, you won't want to eat the salad with the blue things in it, either. See, if we were living by the water, we could get you some fish, water creatures…” She paused, as they neared the top of the slope. “OK, quiet now,” she whispered.

Joanna nodded, returning the food wrap to the pouch, and strapped on the belt. They were about to leave the relative safety of their undeground complex, and enter the forest. The wooden floor beneath their feet had ended a while back, leaving only earth, which her bare feet patted against quietly. The passageway ended between the smallish roots of a tree, which partly camouflaged the entrance. Tina looked out, cautiously, peering into the jungle, before emerging onto the forest ground and motioning for Joanna to follow.

They were entering a tremendously dangerous world. The trees towered above them, almost inconceivably tall, so great that, even craning her neck, Joanna could barely glimpse the top. Most vanished upwards into a thick canopy of leaves, which was, itself, the prowling ground of many predators. Ordinary plants dwarfed the tiny tomthumbs, and fallen leaves appeared immense. This was a world dominated by top predators, gigantic beings such as dridders and nagas, and occasional giantesses such as Milly. These beings were so immense that they barely noticed tomthumbs and other tinies moving about on the ground far below. The biggest predators were not the main threat. Smallish animals -mammals, rodents, lizards and birds- were all known to feed on tomthumbs, as were nekos, sentient predators who regarded tinies as an abundant and nutritious delicacy. And then of course there were-

Joanna had barely stepped out of the underground tunnel when Tina motioned for her to stop. The tomthumb's face was serious, and she was looking down at the ground. Joanna followed her gaze… and shivered a little.

Now that she was looking directly at it, it was unmistakable. A sheen of glistening dampness on the rainwet earth. She nodded, indicating that she could see it. Slug girl slime…

“Whoever she is, she noticed our tunnel,” Tina muttered.

Slug girl slime was a trap, barely visible, and highly effective. The slime was particularly sticky, and it was impossible to pull free if you were unfortunate enough to step in it with bare feet. You would remain there, until the slug girl -or another predator- came around and found you. In this particular instance, rainwater on the ground would make it less efficient, but it remained highly dangerous.

“We have to tell everyone,” Joanna said, concerned. Tina nodded in agreement.

“You go back and tell them. I'll wait for you here. It'll give me time to check for, well, anything else.”

Joanna moistened her lips, suddenly tense. It was an unpleasant reminder of how dangerous every step they took here was. “Right,” she said, and darted back inside, into the tunnel. The sun's light faded behind her, replaced by the glow of the lichens…

* * *

Informing her tribesmates of the slug girl's trap outside did not take long, unfortunately, and she was soon back outside, walking through the jungle beside Tina. The air smelt fresh, crisp and clean, carrying the scent of damp earth and wet bark. Thick droplets of water, caught in the canopy leaves, trickled down to the earth far below. The ground was soggy beneath her bare feet, and she had to be careful not to slip, but Tina, walking with a far more practised step, did not seem bothered at all. They clambered over a long, thin root almost as tall as they were, but that a human would barely have noticed. Joanna brushed damp dirt off her hands as best she could, her toes squelching in the mud.

“So you've never found a way to fight back against predators?” she asked.

Tina shrugged. “Humans from other worlds come here with things they call guns -nasty things that cause a hell of a lot of damage. They try to shoot nagas with them, and it does nothing. Small cuts, at most. All we can make are spears, sharp wood, and that wouldn't even scratch a slug girl.” She glanced at her. “The key to surviving is to keep out of their way.”

“Which you've managed to do,” Joanna said with a little smile. Tina looked at her. The former snackagirl seemed to be in need of reassurance. Tina gave her a confidant smile.

“We're not going to get eaten today,” she said simply. Then, after a pause: “Nor any other day. We'll be fine.”

Joanna returned the smile, trying to look as confidant.

“Of course,” she said. Then, to change the subject: “What is it we're looking for, by the way?”

“Refi berries. They're kind of reddish-purple. They come from bushes. We can't grow them below ground, but they're nice to have from time to time.”

Joanna nodded again, accepting that, and for a while they walked in silence. She reached into her belt pouch, and withdrew a bowl of salad -not the one with insects in it-, which she began to eat from.

“Want some?” she asked Tina. The tomthumb shook her head.

“I had breakfast while you were taking your bath.”

“Right.” Joanna went on eating, chewing on the fresh vegetables. They took a turn round a tree. A slow turn ; it was a large tree, and they had very small legs. Joanna swallowed her mouthful of food, and licked a speck off her lips. “Tina, I never really asked you… How did you get to be Milly's closest friend, among the Alsumi?”

Tina smiled slightly, at the mention of the giantess.

“I'll have to take you up to see Milly again one day. I'm sure you two can get on great.” She looked at her. “What do you think of her?”

“She saved my life,” Joanna said, gravely. She had asked the giantess to spare the lives of the humans who had wanted to eat her, but Milly had eaten them all the same. Joanna still felt a little uncomfortable about it. Profoundly grateful, but a little uncomfortable.

That had been four days ago. By now, those humans had been completely digested.

“But you don't really know her yet,” Tina said.

Joanna shook her head.

“She seemed a nice woman, though.”

Tina grinned. “Milly's great,” she said, with obvious enthusiasm. “In many ways she's my best friend. It's not just because she looks after us. She's saved, oh, I don't know how many of our lives, but it's not just that. She's a really kind person, you know. And interesting. And fun. She's a great friend to have.” She smiled happily. “Wait and see. You'll get to know her.”

Joanna gave a little smile, if only because her new friend seemed happy.

“And you got closer to her than anyone in the tribe.”

“I'm more adventurous.” She grinned briefly. “So I got out and talked to her more. I've seen quite a bit of Felarya, travelling around with Milly. The others don't like to do that. Going into unknown territory. Too dangerous.”

“So… You're telling me I'm wandering around with someone completely reckless?” Joanna grinned too, and Tina laughed.

“Not quite. I'm careful.”

Joanna nodded, feeling strangely reassured by the other woman's apparently carefree attitude, and finished her salad, returning the empty pot to the pouch.

“There's still so much I don't know about Felarya…” she said, after a moment. “So much I don't understand. I still feel lost here.” She paused. “I mean, I can't tell you how grateful I am that you've all given me a home, somewhere safe, but… out here…” She gestured around, at the staggeringly immense forest.

Tina looked at her kindly, slipped her arm through hers, and gave her a brief squeeze.

“You know… Felarya isn't just a place that's dangerous. I mean, you have to be alert all the time, yes, but… There's great beauty, too, if you can relax enough to see it.” She paused. “Fields of flowers so lovely, they'll make you want to cry with their beauty. The sparkle of the sunset on the Chordoni waterfalls. The sunlight on the edge of the Evernight Forest… Terrifying, but… Oh, you have to see it all for yourself! I'll see if Milly can take you round one day.”

Joanna smiled a little. Her friend's words had the desired effect, soothing and warming her, dispelling some of the chill of uncertainty and fear. She touched her arm, gently, and was about to thank her, when she saw her glance to one side, and saw her face change. Instantly, the slow, gnawing dread returned.

“What?” she whispered.

“Neko,” Tina whispered back, urgently. “Don't look! Keep on walking, for now.”

“Neko?” Joanna gasped, a stifled cry. Terror gripped her. A neko meant - death. They were going to be eaten. Ice-cold fear churned at her insides, creeping through her veins.

“Up in the trees,” Tina said, trying to sound calm. She clearly wasn't. “Watching us. Keep walking, Joanna. But towards that tree.” She gestured quickly. “If I say `run', start running. Towards it.”

Joanna gulped, and nodded, without a word. Her trembling legs kept her walking, almost mechanically, one step, then another. She gazed straight ahead, at the tree Tina had gestured to, not daring to look round. It was a huge tree, its bark a dark, brownish green. She did not dare even look up at it, gazing fixedly at its roots, right ahead. She was shivering as she walked.

“Run!”

Tina's sudden, sharp command jolted her, and it took her a brief moment to react. Then, her mind ceded to her instincts, her body flowing into motion, urged on by the most powerful sense of all - self-preservation. Stumbling, panting, terrified, she ran. Beside her, Tina was running too, and, behind her, she thought she could hear… something… The sound of running; a brief, feminine laugh… Then, unexpectedly, a yelp, followed almost immediately by a scream. So sudden was it that she lost focus on her own movements, and tripped over her own legs, sprawling. She fell forward onto her face. Something touched her. She screamed, too.

“Joanna…” Tina's voice. Gentle. With not a trace of fear. Shaken, Joanna rolled onto her back, and sat up, staring at her. Tina smiled. “Are you OK?”

“The neko…?” she breathed, still frightened. Her eyes darted about, urgently. “Where…?”

“Look up,” Tina said simply, pointing. Joanna tilted her head back, and looked up.

And stared.

The neko was being held suspended far, far above the ground, wriggling wildly in… a gigantic, brownish green hand. The hand was connected to a slender female arm, which led to an unmistakably female torso, topped by a head with an attractive female face, framed by long, tangled dark green hair.

“A… tree woman,” Joanna whispered, fascinated. Tina smiled.

“She's a dryad. Hey there!” she called, and waved up at her, cheerfully. The dryad looked down, and, using her spare hand, waved back with a grin. Then, she lifted the neko closer to her mouth. The catgirl screamed, her arms pinned between the dryad's fingers, her legs kicking at empty air. The tree woman licked her lips, clearly pleased at her catch. Joanna tensed.

“She's going to eat her!”

“Well, yes.” Tina held out her hand, helping her friend up. “Come on. We're all right now.”

Joanna got to her feet, still unsteady.

“You… knew?”

“I knew there was a dryad here,” Tina explained, calmly. “And that she wouldn't hurt us. We're too small. But that she'd be interested in the neko.” She shrugged. “We were lucky. But we needed to get the neko into the dryad's range.”

Up above, the neko screamed again, howling with fright, as the dryad dangled her teasingly above her wide open mouth. Joanna looked away, sickened, and grabbed Tina's arm.

“Tina… We can't let her do that.”

Tina frowned, surprised.

“Can't let her do what? Eat the neko? Of course we can! It's her catch.” She winced. “Don't squeeze my arm like that!”

“But…” Joanna's voice was tense with urgency, almost pleading. “If we ask her to spare her-”

There was another scream, cutting her off, and they both looked up to see the tree woman drop the flailing catgirl into her mouth. The neko vanished between the dryad's lips, which promptly closed behind her. The tree woman smiled, savouring her food, a look of blissful enjoyment on her face. Joanna gazed up, stunned.

Gently, Tina tugged at her arm.

“Come on. Come on, Joanna. We still have those berries to find.”

Joanna looked away. She heard the gulp, all the same, and shivered at the sound. The neko was gone, on her way to being digested. A small part of her -the harsh, instinctive part that she did not want to acknowledge- felt not only relieved but glad, a sense of revenge fulfilled. For the most part, what she felt was horror.

The neko was going to be digested. It left the tiny snackagirl more shaken than she would have thought.

“Come on,” Tina said again, firmly but gently, tugging her a little. Joanna began to walk, automatically, following her lead. “One neko fewer to worry about,” Tina said, her voice suddenly harsh. Joanna shook her head, quietly, but said nothing.

As they walked away, she heard the dryad behind them exhale a loud burp, and a deep, feminine sigh of satisfaction.

* * *

Joanna remained subdued, almost sullen for several long minutes as they trudged on over the wet ground. Tina left her to her own thoughts for a while, focusing instead on their surroundings. A trio of harpies flew by overhead at one point, but they were of no great concern. Harpies of that size rarely bothered with tomthumbs. Eventually, however, she turned and faced her new friend.

“You're being silly,” she said, firmly. Joanna stopped still, and glared at her.

“What?”

“I said, you're being silly. Feeling sorry for that neko.”

Joanna's eyes narrowed, still glaring.

“You don't feel sorry for her at all?”

Tina shrugged. “A bit, maybe. Not really. People get eaten in Felarya all the time. You have to get used to it. Plus, she'd have gulped you down without a second thought, so she's really the last person in the world you should be feeling sorry for right now. And,” she went on, cutting the other woman off before she could speak, “if that dryad hadn't been there, you'd be soaking in neko stomach acids at this very moment.”

Joanna opened her mouth as though to speak, but no words came. She hesitated, then scowled, and looked away, angry and troubled.

“I like you, Joanna,” Tina went on, her voice firm, “but you need a bit of a reality check if you're going to be able to cope here. There's a natural food chain in Felarya. We're at the bottom of it. That's where Milly comes in. She protects us, by eating people who'd want to eat us. It keeps everyone happy. Milly gets good food, and we get to survive. I can't say I don't feel sorry for some of the people Milly eats, but I would never presume to tell her she shouldn't eat them. It's her natural diet ; it's perfectly normal ; there's nothing wrong with it.” She emphasised those words, then paused. Joanna took the opportunity to turn and face her.

“So you're telling me you wouldn't hate a neko for eating you?” she said, her voice heavy with irritatation, hurt and sarcasm. “That you'd just see it as natural?”

“I'd see it as natural, because it is. That doesn't mean I don't try to stay off the catgirls' menu. And if one gets too close, well, I'm quite happy if she gets herself eaten by something bigger. I rather like being alive, myself.” She stopped, and smiled a little, her stern expression softening. “I know you don't like what I'm saying, Joanna, and I really am sorry. I like you. I think you're fundamentally a good person, a kind person, and I would very much like to… well, to go on being your friend.” Another pause. “I didn't mean to lecture you, either. I'm sorry about that.”

Joanna lifted her head, looking for a moment into her green eyes. She felt herself smile, just a little, hesitatingly. Before she could say anything, however, there was a plaintive, painful mewing sound, from very close by. The two young women froze, looking at each other.

Joanna's gaze darted at a clump of bushes between nearby trees. She gestured, discreetly.

“Through there…” she whispered. “I think.”

Tina nodded. `Through there' was the small clearing where she expected to find the refi berries they had come for. If there were a catgirl in the clearing, it would be a significant annoyance… not to mention a potentially lethal threat. She held back a sigh.

“I'll go and see,” she whispered back. “Stay here.”

Joanna gulped, tense, and edged closer to the bushes as Tina disappeared into them. The forest around her loomed, menacing, the leaves, trees and shadows concealing, perhaps, a thousand unseen threats. Creatures that could gulp her down for breakfast and then move on with their lives as though she had never existed.

She jumped a little when the bush leaves rustled, and Tina reappeared. The tomthumb was smirking, and motioned for her to follow.

“We're OK. Come on.”

Joanna hesitated, then grimaced, and, trusting her friend's judgement, pushed her way through the undergrowth. She emerged in a small clearing, where Tina was already heading for a thick clump of tiny, fruit-bearing bushes. Joanna barely noticed her, staring ahead at the giant figure lying between the trees. She stopped short, battling down an instinctive sense of panic, until her reason told her that, somehow, there was no danger.

The figure was another neko. She had pale skin, contrasted with her very dark brown hair. She was lying on her side, facing Joanna, without seeing her for now; her eyes were tight shut. But she was not sleeping. Her face was contorted in pain, her breathing ragged. She was pressing both hands over what was presumably a wound in her belly area; the bare skin around her hands, on her chest, was thickly smeared with drying blood. She was whimpering, softly, in obvious distress.

Joanna swallowed hard against the nervous lump in her throat, uncertain what to do. She looked over at Tina, who had begun plucking plucking berries and putting them in her bag.

“Tina…” she whispered, tensely.

Reacting to the sound of her voice, or perhaps to a whiff of her scent, the neko opened her eyes, and gazed right at her. She had deep, green eyes, tinged with gold. Deep, and frightened, shimering with fear. It was a look that pierced straight to Joanna's heart. She had never seen anything like it.

It was the look of someone who thought she was dying.

“Tina!” she said again, more urgently. Her friend turned to look over at her.

“What?”

“The neko!”

“Don't worry about her,” Tina said casually. “She won't hurt us. Come over here. You can help me with the berries.”

Joanna hesitated. Her friend was missing the point. She moistened her lips, uncomfortable.

“Tina… She's hurt. Badly, I think.”

“If she weren't hurt badly, she'd be trying to eat us,” Tina pointed out, the voice of common sense. “Now, are you going to help me?”

“In… in a moment.” Joanna hesitated again, bit her lip, then took a cautious step forward, towards the neko. The categirl's eyes narrowed, watching her warily. Her tail swished, feebly, in warning, and her lips curled into a frightened snarl, baring her teeth. She was young - younger than Joanna. Shaken, her eyes trembling. The snackagirl held a hand forward, palm outstretched, to calm her.

“It's OK…” she said. “I'm too small to hurt you.” Another step forward, and another. “What happened?”

The girl's snarl deepened, followed by a feline hiss. Weakly, she let one of her arms flop to the ground, stretching her claws out, and, in the process, revealing two deep cuts in her belly, matted with dark blood. They looked horrific. She had been bleeding heavily, and was still bleeding now. She was shivering too, the effects of shock and fear. Joanna tried not to look at the wounds, shaken in turn. She felt her heart go out to the young woman. Lying there helpless, her eyes so certain she was dying… Dying alone in the jungle.

“It's all right,” Joanna said again, very gently. “Maybe we can help. What happened to you?” She looked into the neko's trembling eyes, holding her gaze. “Where can we get help?”

Tina reacted to that, turning around, scowling. Neither Joanna nor the neko paid any attention to her, gazing at each other instead.

“Come… closer and I'll… eat you,” the neko gasped, panting painfully, every word an effort. She laughed, a hoarse, frightened chuckle. “Go away…” A whisper.

Joanna stopped.

“Oh, what are you doing?” Tina called over, irritably. “Don't get within her reach! She can swipe at you.”

The neko gave a forced smile at that, shivering. She pulled up her hand once more, pressing it again to her wound, and winced, gasping. Joanna stood still, feeling helpless. She turned to face her friend.

“She's dying…”

“Who cares? Joanna, we can't stay here long. Her people may come looking for her. Or any other predator may turn up. Hurry up and help me with the berries!”

The catgirl groaned in pain, wrapping her arms round herself now, shivering more intensely. She clenched her eyes shut once more, curling up almost into foetal position, whimpering. Joanna hesitated a while longer, then hurried over to Tina, and began plucking berries, dropping them into the second bag. She did not immediately look at the tomthumb.

“We have to do something for her.”

“No,” Tina said firmly. “We don't. And we can't. There's nothing we can do, or should do, so there's no point even discussing it.”

Joanna glanced back over her shoulder.

“What do you think happened to her?” she whispered.

“Don't know; don't care.” Tina was being deliberately harsh. She needed to snap the snackagirl out of feeling sympathy for every dangerous predator. She snapped a small branch off the bush, and began plucking all the berries off, doing her best not to squash them. “We can make a lovely fruit salad with these, you know,” she commented, purposefully changing the subject. “Or sauce. Fruit sauce. It goes with lots of-”

“Tina!” Joanna snapped, dismayed. “I don't care! I'm worried about…” She gestured vaguely at the catgirl, and trailed off, her face anxious. Tina looked at her for a while, then sighed.

“OK,” she said. “Right. I'm listening to you. What do you want us to do?” She crossed her arms over her chest. “We can't exactly pick her up and move her, can we? And if you go anywhere near her, I'm sure she'll be quite happy to have you as her last meal.”

“Even if she understands I'm trying to help?”

“If she's smart, she'll realise that you can't help. And that the best thing for her to do is to eat you, if you're silly enough to get too close.”

“What makes you think we can't help?” Joanna demanded, stubbornly. “I'm not talking about trying to carry her. But if she tells us where her tribe lives, we can get them to-”

“No!” Tina cut her off, her expression hardening. “Absolutely not. Joanna, listen to yourself! You're not making any sense.” She gave her a gentle but firm tap on the cheek. “Hey! Just think about it.” She added, more softly: “You're thinking with your heart, not with your head.”

“Get… my…” There was a groan. The sound, and the words, had come from the catgirl. She was lying curled up on herself now, as much as her wound allowed, shivering hard. “P-p-please, yes…” she whimpered. “Get m-my… my…” Her voice trailed off into sobs, wracking her body. She wept, fear and shock overwhelming her. In that moment, it was almost impossible to see her as a threat. Joanna felt her heart soften, and began to walk back towards her. Tina followed, cautiously.

“We'll do what we can,” Joanna said, very gently. “We're friends. We want to help you.” She glanced at Tina, then went on: “What's your name?”

“Th-th…” The catgirl tried to speak, but the words were strangled by her sobs. She gasped, and coughed, trembling hard. Blood trickled from her mouth. She began to panic, thrashing her legs. “Oh, g-g-gods! Oh, g-g-…” she screamed, terrified, raising a hand weakly to her mouth, stained with her own blood. “Oh, p-p-p…” Tears blurred her eyes, streaming down her cheeks.

“She's dying,” Tina said, gently this time. “We can't help.”

“Yes, we can,” Joanna whispered. Her own voice was choked with emotion, tears welling up in her pale brown eyes. “If it's too late to get her tribe, we can stay… w-with her.” The tears began trickling down her cheeks, too, as she looked upon the thrashing, dying neko. The catgirl's frantic shivering had ripped her wounds further open, and blood was pouring out once more. She was coughing blood, weeping, green eyes frantic with terror.

“I'm sorry…” Joanna whispered, in a voice choked with sobs, crying freely. “I'm so sorry…”

There was a loud, rustling, crashing sound, from behind them, and both tiny women looked up, startled. From between the trees, a truly gigantic figure emerged, slithering forward into the clearing. Joanna felt her friend grip her arm, tugging her.

“Get back!” she whispered. “Now!”

The snackagirl did not protest, following quickly as Tina led her into the bushes. From there, they watched as a giant naga slithered over to the dying catgirl. She was an attractive woman, with mocha skin, and lovely brown hair flowing a long way down her back. Her scales were the colour of charcoal, elegantly striated with golden patterns. She also had particularly ample breasts -many, many times larger than Joanna's entire body-, which she made no effort to conceal. The tiny young woman watched, anxious.

The naga reached the catgirl, who was crying more feebly now, her body wracked with painful breaths and spasmodic shivers. Rather gently, the naga picked her up. Joanna tensed, and almost stood, out of the bushes, before stopping herself. There was no sense in being seen.

With utter casualness, the naga tossed the helpless catgirl into her mouth, and slithered off. Joanna stared after her, stricken. She sat there in silence for a long while, until Tina got to her feet, and held out her hand for her.

“Come on,” she said, simply. Joanna took her hand, a little dazed, and got up. The tomthumb gave her a look of gentle concern. “Are you all right?”

Joanna nodded, mechanically. She wasn't. But she would be. Eventually. She would have to be. With the back of her hand, she tried to dry her tears.

Tina tilted her head a little, and stepped up closer to her. Somewhat to Joanna's surprise, she put her hands on her arms, gently.

“I'm sorry,” she whispered. And meant it.

Joanna managed a weak smile, her damp eyes still haunted.

“Thank you… I'll be all right.”

“Yes, you will.” Tina's voice was kind. She gave Joanna's arms a gentle little squeeze. “But this… Felarya, Joanna. This is what happens here. It can be very cruel.” She looked into her eyes. “You know, you did help. You did what you could. You showed her you cared.”

Joanna blinked at fresh tears, and looked away.

“It's a cruel world,” Tina went on, gently, “but it's more than that, too. There's not just… death here. This is your home now, and you'll see… Well, I told you, there are good things here, too. Beauty,” she said, as Joanna looked at her, brown eyes seeking comfort. “There are places here that are so lovely…” Tina whispered. “I'll show you, one day. We can enjoy it. We have parties, as well. Good food… Wait and see what we do with the berries!” She smiled, softly. “Sceneries, parties, food… And, above all…”

Joanna held her warm, gentle gaze.

“What?” she whispered back.

“Friends,” Tina said. And hugged her. “Friends, who care about each other, and look after each other.” She wrapped her arms gently round her, holding her. Slowly, with some hesitation, Joanna raised her arms and slipped them round her too, returning the hug. The two minuscule women, less than three inches tall, stood in each other's arms, amidst the giant undergrowth and between the towering trees. Tina smiled, as she released her, and Joanna gave a faint smile in response. “We're friends,” Tina said. “Aren't we?”

“Yes,” Joanna whispered. “Yes… Yes, yes, we are.”

“We'll be all right,” Tina said, her green eyes warm. She held out her hand, smiling very softly. “Come on… Come and help me pick the berries?”

= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =

The words to survive - Isham's story

“Sorry, but I'm going to have to keep you in there, for now.”

Isham crossed his arms with a scowl as the gigantic woman deposited him carefully in a large cage suspended from the ceiling of her hut. She closed the door, and locked it, giving him an apologetic smile. He looked back at her, and shook his head.

“I wouldn't try to escape. It's far too dangerous out there.” He meant it, too. Paradoxically, being trapped in the home of this man-eating giantess made him about as safe as he could possibly be in Felarya. Much safer than he had been out in the jungle, when she had caught him. The reason was simple: She did not intend to eat him.

Yet.

She smiled slightly.

“Still, I prefer to have you in there.” She paused. “I'm going to have a rest for a while, after that long walk. We can talk some more later, about… everything.” He smile blossomed into an eager, hopeful grin. “Would you like some paper and a pen? To start writing?”

Isham blinked.

“Not right now, thanks. I'm… I don't feel inspired.” He looked around his bare cage, hanging far above the floor, and added sarcastically: “I need to get settled in first.”

“Oh, OK.” The giantess looked distinctly disappointed. “Well, we'll see how you feel when I wake up.” Another pause. “Uhm, OK…” she said again. “I'll talk to you soon.”

She hesitated a moment longer, as though a little uncertain what to do with him now, then turned away, walked the short distance to her bed, and lay down on her back. He watched her, and sat down slowly on the cage's hard floor. Sunlight bathed the hut's single room softly. It was a simple home, but well-built, in sturdy, unpainted wood, its roof covered over with a natural, live canopy of forest branches and leaves. A table; chairs; a bed. And shelves, stacked with books, human-sized rucksacks and other bits and pieces -many of them, no doubt, relics from the giantess' prey.

“Damn…” he whispered.

Whichever way he tried to look at it, this was not a healthy situation to be in. At least not in the long term. He had survived his capture by promising, quickly, that he would write stories for his captor. The promise had seemed to excite her so much that she had spared him. Others had not been so lucky. He had been travelling on a Felarya Express flight through the jungle when Milly and a gigantic half-snake woman had stopped their ship, devouring its few occupants. He had seen a colleague of his from their theatre company vanish down Milly's throat, and had heard the subsequent gurgles of her digestive system. Now she had brought him to her home, after a long walk through the vast forest, and she would soon be expecting him to live up to his promise.

He sighed, bringing his knees up to his chest and resting his forehead against them. He was the human prisoner of a woman who ate humans, and she wanted him to write stories for her.

If he failed to do so to her satisfaction, it was not difficult to imagine what his fate would be.

He stretched his legs out, leaning back against the bars of his cage, and stared gimly at the wooden door of the hut. There seemed to be little hope of reasoning with her. Which meant that, eventually, he would have to find a way to escape. That is, if he could also figure out a way to get to a dimensional portal safely from here. Wandering out into the jungle and trying to walk his way to safety would be suicide. There were many other predators out there, and most of them would have little interest in keeping him alive.

Milly exhaled a soft sigh, and he glanced over at her. She was resting, her eyes closed. For a while, he allowed himself to look at her.

It still struck him as inherently paradoxical that a woman of such beauty could also be a monster. For she was indeed beautiful. She looked no older than her late twenties, with a gentle, eager young face, and attractive, softly feminine features. Her hair was long, lush, glossy and dark, spreading a little around her now as she lay on her back. She had fairly light, smooth brown skin, a slender build and rather ample curves, partly concealed by light, simple clothing. Had she been human, like him, he would have been instantly attracted to her. But that lovely body fed on humans; those pretty lips were made not to kiss, but to devour his kind. Her digestive system thrived on human flesh. She was, indeed, a monster.

“Damn,” he said again, and rubbed his weary eyes. Right now, his predicament seemed inextricable. Perhaps a miracle would present itself, if he waited long enough.

If he survived long enough.

He sighed, and lay down on the hard floor of the cage, gazing up at the bars which curved and met at its top. He lay there in silence for several long minutes, until sleep claimed his tense, exhausted mind.

* * *

When he awoke, his still sleepy senses registered that several things had changed, before his conscious mind could fully emerge once more. For one thing, it was darker. The sunlight streaming into the hut had lessened, its rays turning a darkish gold, heralding the oncome of nightfall. For another, he could smell the appealing scent of fresh fruit, as well as the earthy smell of vegetation. For a third… he was no longer alone in the cage.

He turned, quickly, and sat up, eyes opening. Several things presented themselves to his sight. Foremost among them were the two humans who sat huddled together opposite him, their backs pressed against the bars. They were both looking at him, their gazes wary. One was a tall but rather skinny black man, with very dark skin and short black hair. In his arms, her head nestled up to his shoulder, was rather a attractive, light-skinned woman with long, brownish-blond hair. They both wore colourful summer clothing in almost garish pastel hues, a fashion choice which suggested they were not natives of Felarya.

“Hello there,” the man said. His voice was pleasant enough, but tinged with suspicion, and the inevitable fear brought by his current situation.

“Hi,” Isham mumbled, and rubbed at his eyes. The other new items in his cage were a pile of fruit on a human-sized plate, three stacks of freshly-plucked mossy vegetation which he assumed to be some sort of crude bedding, and a neat pile of human-sized paper, together with a ballpoint pen. He looked at it for a moment, and let out a quiet groan.

“Who are you?” the woman asked, in a tone of voice similar to the man's. “I'm Temina. This” -she placed a hand on the black man's chest- “is Joro.” The man gave a nod, in greeting.

“I'm Isham.” He paused, as his brain woke up fully, and the reality of the situation began to sink in. If he assumed his new cage companions were not, like him, captive writers, there could be only one reason for their presence. He felt his insides clench with dreadful anticipation. “How long have you been here? Where's Milly?”

“Only a couple of minutes,” Temina replied. “The giant woman put us in here and walked out.” A paused, then, in a whisper: “She said she needed to go and pee. I suppose she'll be back any moment.”

“Right.” Isham grimaced, stretching his arms and legs as best he could. He had been sleeping on hard ground, and his limbs felt uncomfortably numb. “I've been here… a few hours, I suppose.” Long enough for the giantess to have her rest, wake up, go out hunting, and bring back fresh prey, in any case. There was a heavy silence.

“There were six of us,” Joro said, after a while, his voice grim. “She… She ate the other four.” Temina whimpered, and he gave her a comforting hug, albeit keeping his eyes on Isham. “Brought us back here. To… keep us for later?” The question emerged as a fearful hush. Isham grimaced.

“I suppose so, yes.” He paused. “I had travel companions,” he added, after a moment's hesitation. “They got… eaten.” He had decided not to tell them, for now, that he seemed to be off Milly's menu. He did not want to spark their resentment. It was best if they thought he was in the same situation as they were. Food, in a larder. An illusion of equality. He began to feel even more uncomfortable.

I'm talking to people who are going to be eaten… Quietly, he cursed Milly for putting him in this situation -just as she opened the door, and walked in.

Her head turned straight to the cage, with a look of hopeful expectation, and she beamed a lovely smile when she saw that he was awake.

“Ah, Isham, you're up,” she said, pleased. “I've put you some fruit there, if you're hungry. And some paper.”

Isham got to his feet, wincing at the numbness in his legs.

“Oh, and something more comfortable to lie on,” the giantess added, with an apologetic look. “I'm sorry I didn't think of it earlier. Are you ok?”

“Just fine,” he grunted. “Your cage isn't exactly a luxury resort.”

She tilted her head a little. Her stomach rumbled, digesting the four humans she had just eaten.

“What's a luxury resort?”

“Never mind.” He glanced at Joro and Temina. They were looking from him to Milly, their expressions questioning.

“What's the paper for?” Temina asked.

“Ah, Milly,” Isham put in quickly. “Is there a bathroom here I can use?”

The giantess' deep, beautiful brown eyes gazed at him for a moment, then she nodded, and smiled.

“Sort of. You'll have to go outside. Which'll give you some fresh air, too.” She walked up to the cage, opened it, and thrust her hand inside. Isham tensed, on instinct, but did not resist as her fingers wrapped round him, pulling him out. She held him in her hand, a terrifying height above the hard ground. Her stomach gave another gurgle, digesting her meal, much too close for comfort. “I'll be back in a moment,” she told the other two humans. “Do help yourselves to fruit if you're hungry!”

Isham said nothing as she carried him outside. He breathed in the jungle's fresh evening air, and wriggled a little in Milly's grip, trying to find a more comfortable position.

“You're going to eat those people, aren't you?” he said, after Milly had carried him a few steps away from the door, towards the trees. He did not look at her as he spoke.

“Yes,” she said, just as simply. “Of course I am.” He heard a slick, wet sound, and glanced up to see her lick her smiling lips.

“Eurgh.” He grimaced, and shook his head, trying to dispell the awful mental images her gesture brought to mind. The memory of seeing a man he knew vanish into her mouth… “Listen. Can I ask you something?”

“Of course!” She gave him a bright, warm smile. Such a friendly smile that he was momentarily taken aback. As though, for a moment, she were not a monster at all; just a nice, pleasant young woman… who happened to enjoy eating people.

“Could you not tell them that I'm here to write for you?” He winced, feeling very awkward. “I'm not sure how they'd take it.”

Milly frowned a little, puzzled by that.

“Oh?” she asked.

“Well, yeah. Think about it.” Her fingers pressed all around his body. Feminine fingers, warm, gentle and soft… He brushed that thought aside, too. “How would you feel, in their place, if you were going to be eaten, and you were sharing a cage with someone who was… not.” He paused. “At least, I hope I'm not.”

“I won't eat you.” She smiled, a lovely smile. “If you write for me. All right; I won't tell them.” She stopped, and leaned down, placing him carefully on the ground at the foot of a tree. “I suppose that means you won't be writing until after I've eaten them?”

Isham grimaced, tensely, as he realised the implications of what she was saying.

“Uhm…”

“That's OK,” she said, ignoring his obvious discomfort. She sat down, leaning against another tree, looking down at him. Her immense, bare feet rested right in front of him, pretty toes topped with unvarnished nails. Her partly bare, smooth brown legs stretched up, towering above him, as she drew her knees closer to her chest. From this angle, her breasts, mostly hidden beneath her simple top, looked huge, and he felt suddenly very troubled. “I'm not really hungry now,” she went on, placing her hand on her tummy -where four unseen humans were being churned in her stomach. “I'll have them for breakfast tomorrow.” Her tone was casual, cheerful, as though she had just mentioned she might prefer orange juice to coffee. Isham suppressed a little shiver.

“I don't get it,” he said. “You're basically a human, but bigger. I don't understand how you can eat people. I mean,” he went on, before she could reply, “I've been thinking about the way you behave, and… You've been nice, basically. I wondered whether you were just putting on some sort of sadistic act, but I really don't think you are. You actually are a nice person. So why…?” He trailed off. Milly smiled, her smile perhaps a little awkward.

“That's a strange question…” She giggled. “I eat humans because they're food. They're a natural part of my diet. They're good for me. And they're really, really delicious!” She grinned, as though tasting again, in her memory, her most recent meal. “Really delicious,” she said again, moistening her lips, and sighed wistfully, her gaze lingering on her cabin.

“Ri-ight…” Isham said. He shifted his legs, uncertain what to reply to that. What does one say to a friendly but very dangerous man-eating giantess? A thought came to him, and he straightened up. “Milly…”

Her gaze shifted down towards him, curious.

“Yes?”

“I'd like to make a bargain with you.” He stood up as tall as he could, trying to project an air of confidence and determination… and to conceal his fear. This was not a conversation of equals; she could terminate it at any point by eating him. “If you let those two people go,” -he gestured towards the hut- “I'll start writing right now. This evening.” He looked upon into her deep brown eyes, so high above him. She seemed to contemplate him for a moment, intrigued.

Then, she giggled a little.

“You're not thinking,” she told him. “If you don't want to write for me, tomorrow, I'll eat you. It's up to you.” She shrugged. “I don't want to upset you or anything, but please remember you're food. The reason I'm not eating you is because I hope to get something better out of you. OK?” Her tone was so friendly, so warm and gentle, that he could barely reconcile with her words. His head swam. His shoulders slumped, defeated.

“They're people…” he said. One last try, with little hope.

“And they're my breakfast,” she said cheerfully. She looked at him, her eyes searching, warm with gentle intelligence. Her lips -the portal into her lethal mouth- curled into a playful smile. She reached down, and gave him a little pat on the cheek with one finger. “You're brave,” she said softly. “In your own way.” He watched her lips move, so lovely, and tried not to shudder. “I think I'm going to like you.”

* * *

It was dark. The forest outside seemed pitch black, but the air in Milly's hut was warm, comfortable. Isham lay on the blanket of moss, trying to ignore the slight itch it caused; it was better than the hard floor. Close by, he could hear Joro and Temina, whispering to each other. They could not sleep. Neither could he.

He sighed, turning away from them. Other than his fellow captives' whispers, it was strangely quiet. Faint, rustling sounds reached him, muffled, from outdoors; the wind whispering in the leaves. The sound of Milly's breathing, too, peaceful and steady, sleeping.

It had been a quiet evening, the atmosphere within the cage subdued. The three of them had made feeble attempts at conversation with one another, but it simply felt too awkward, and Temina and Joro had eventually retreated into the meagre comfort of each other's company, almost ignoring him. They had tried, briefly, to plead with Milly for their release, before giving up.

Isham had eaten a little, before going to bed. He had felt queasy, but had forced himself to eat some fruit, if only because the rumbles of hunger from his own stomach were reminding him of the giantess, and of his bleak predicament. He had not looked at Milly as she undressed, and got into her bed naked. He refused to view her as a woman -just as she refused to view humans as equal people. She was a monster, he had reminded himself fiercely; nothing more. Now he lay in silence, gazing into the darkness, waiting for sleep to take him.

The whispers from the other two humans seemed to have stopped. Only for a short while, however, as he soon heard them fondling each other in a rustle of clothes, their breathing pattern changing, and Temina gasping out a little moan. He sighed. They were going to try and make the most of what was likely to be their last night. Which was sensible enough, but was not likely to help him sleep. He tore a clump of moss free from his bedding and clamped it over his ear, closing his eyes.

He longed quietly to be back in his own bed, on his own world. Already, it seemed a whole other life ago… Out of reach. Joro and Temina panted, whispering at each other, then stopped. A moment's silence. A half-choked whisper from Temina, and a soothing response from Joro. Temina, crying quietly. There was no way for them to enjoy their last night. The weight of their impending death was crushing. He heard Temina sobbing in her boyfriend's arms, as Joro whispered comforting, meaningless words. Isham felt suddenly a little guilty.

Survivor's guilt… Strange how that worked. Particularly when his own survival was still so very uncertain.

He clenched his eyes tight shut, trying not to feel, not to think. To blank his mind, in the darkness. Merciful, after several long minutes, sleep claimed him at last.

* * *

He woke the next morning to the sound of a scream, which jolted him out of his nightmares. His eyelids snapped open, and he sat up, clumsily, in a dizzying rush of adrenaline. As his sleep-blurred sight swam into focus, he saw, through the open door of the cage, Milly holding a screaming Temina above her wide open mouth.

Isham's heart lurched, and he opened his own mouth to cry out, scrambling unsteadily to his feet, but it was too late. Milly's slender fingers released her prey, dropping her into her mouth, her lips closing behind her. Temina's frantic yells were muffled as Milly turned to face Isham. She gave him a broad, warm smile, without opening her mouth, and a friendly little wave. She was naked, spectacular in her beauty, colossal yet slender, her build so exquisitely feminine. Then she began quite obviously to savour her food, shifting the helpless human around inside her mouth, tasting her. Isham stepped forward, sickened.

“Stop it!” he heard himself shout. “Let her go!” There was no sign of Joro. No doubt he was already inside Milly's stomach.

The giantess' head tilted, a cute little move, her lush, dark hair shifting on her shoulders, and she gave him a curious look. She shrugged, and continued to savour her human for a while in silence, a look of simple, innocent pleasure on her face.

“Stop it!” Isham yelled once more, just as Milly swallowed. There was a horribly loud, wet gulp, and a lump passed briefly down her throat. The last anyone would ever see of Temina. The woman's terrified sobs and screams faded as she was pushed deeper down the giantess' oesophagus, into her body. Milly's lips parted in a smile, and she breathed out a sigh of satisfaction.

“Mmmm…” She giggled, girlishly, and licked her lips, as though to capture the last, lingering taste of her breakfast. “Good morning, Isham!” she said kindly. “Did you sleep well?”

He glared at her, and turned away.

“I hate you,” he muttered. He did not see Milly's smile fade, the hurt look on her pretty face.

“That's not a very nice thing to say,” she protested, and the hurt in her voice was such that he turned to look at her once more, in surprise. She actually did seem upset, her brown eyes downcast, moist with sudden emotion. She sniffled. Then burped, loudly, and sniffled once more, wiping at her eyes. Isham blinked, stunned.

“I, uhm…” he began, and stopped. She looked at him quickly, her eyes hopeful. Something in them stirred at his heart. He tried to look away, troubled, not wanting to feel any sympathy for this monster.

This beautiful, horrible monster. With such human emotions… He clenched his teeth, angry at himself, at his own confusion over what to feel.

“I'm sorry,” he said, simply, and was rewarded by a hesitant but gentle smile. A pause, then he added: “I don't hate you.”

“That's OK,” she said, a look of relief on her face. “I know you didn't mean it.”

Didn't I? He nodded, and stepped towards the open entrance to the cage, looking down at her bare belly. Trying, for now, to ignore her round, full breasts, or the perfect, naked feminity between her shapely legs.

“Let them out,” he said, and turned his gaze back up to her eyes. His tone was simple, purged of any anger. “Please.”

She held his gaze for a moment, then shook her lovely head.

“I can't. And I wouldn't, even if I could.” She rested her hand lightly on her tummy, just for a few seconds. “I'm… I'm going to go out for a bathe. Would you like to come? It's warm out there, a nice day.”

Isham stood quiet, uncertain what to say. In some ways, the giantess' behaviour was becoming predictable, following the pattern of her personality, but he still could not get used to it. It was, quite literally, still monstrous. Her gentle smile gave him a chill, and he had to fight the urge to jump back when she suddenly grabbed him. He tensed, and she offered a reassuring smile.

“Don't worry; I'm not going to eat you.” She giggled. “I'm just going to take you outside for a bathe. It'll do you good.” She carried him towards the door, her bare feet pattering on the wooden floor, her full breasts bouncing a little-her naked body lovely beyond words. Inside it, Temina and Joro were trapped, experiencing the beginning of digestion, for Milly's breakfast. He closed his eyes, dizzy and a little sick. He could still hear her voice, though, cheerful and eager:

“And on the way,” she was saying happily, “you can tell me what your first story's going to be about!”

* * *

She had locked him back in the cage when they had returned, and had pointed him to the pen and paper. Obviously she was impatient for him to get started. He had sighed, and asked her what she wanted him to write about. She had given it some thought, and they had discussed genres for a while, until she asked him, blushing slightly, to write something `nice', with a `happy ending'.

He had picked up the pen and paper, and stared at the blank sheets for a long while, his mind awhirl. It did not help that Milly had chosen to sit on the bed and watch him, eagerly, her stomach gurgling as it digested Joro and Temina. After a long while, ideas had started to form in his brain. He had chewed at the pen -which seemed to worry Milly a little-, then had begun to jot the outline of his ideas down, if only to make it appear that he was indeed doing something. As soon as she saw him writing, Milly had let out a little squeel of excitement, got up, and hurried over to watch him, trying to look at the page. He had glared at her, and, somewhat to his surprise, she had retreated, abashed.

She had returned to the bed to watch him, and they had both remained as they were for close to an hour - Isham writing a few words in silence, with Milly's eyes on him, and occasional interruptions from the giantess asking if he wanted something to eat, anything to drink, or even `more paper'.

His story would not be very original. He was writing just to get something done - to satisfy his captor's appetite with a story, rather than with his all-too-edible flesh. Writing the words to survive… When that thought struck him, he had decided to make it the title of his tale. `The Words to Survive'… The story of a brave, noble woman sent to retrieve a magical cup from a faraway dragon's cave. Only a magic formula would soothe the dragon and prevent it from eating her. As there was no writing in this world, she had to memorise the long, meaningless, almost unpronouncable formula before setting out, and remember it perfectly during a trip of several months through perilous lands. If she made the slightest mistake upon reciting it, at the end of her journey, she would be devoured.

Of course, Milly had asked for a happy ending, so there would not be much suspense. This was fiction; the girl in the story, who did not exist, would be safe; he himself, in the real world, was in a far more precarious position.

Eventually, Milly had grown tired of watching him, and had wandered out, leaving him alone in the hut - in the cage. She gave him some food before walking out, and he ate it as he wrote, hoping to produce as many words as he could before she returned.

He wrote, for hours on end, the words beginning to flow as he allowed himself to be drawn into his story, and some of the fear drained out of him. His mind slipped quietly into his world of fiction - into magical lands of colourful, talking birds, brave damsels and avoidable peril. He even smiled, a little, barely noticing, as he became caught up in his own imagination… until darkness begain to fall outdoors, the light faded, and it became difficult to see what he was doing. He placed down his precious pen and pages, tired, and lay down on the moss blanket, gazing out between the bars of the cage.

He had no idea whether she would like it. If she didn't, he would probably die tomorrow.

On that depressing thought, he drifted into sleep.

When he awoke, it was much darker, late at night. He could see very little, but he could hear footsteps, the sound of breathing, a giant person moving around. Milly was home. She was just outside the cage, an immense, shadowy form. The footsteps stopped, as she reached the cage's door, and there was click. Then a whimper - from someone else. The forms, the sounds of something new being placed inside the cage. Another click.

“Go to sleep,” Milly whispered. “We'll talk in the morning. Try not to wake Isham up.”

He lay still, silent. He had a new companion, then; fresh food for the giantess' larder. More sounds, as Milly moved away. The person in the cage moved too, crawling, searching in the darkness for a bed. Still, Isham did not move. Rustling sounds, as Milly undressed, as the person trapped with him found a bedding of moss, and lay down. A creak in Milly's bed, as she settled in for the night.

Silence, in the darkness, for a long time.

He sighed, shifting as the moss pricked his neck, and turned over. Close by, a form lay quiet, breathing. More silence.

“You're awake, aren't you?” the form whispered. It was a soft voice, feminine, cultured. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he could just make out the whites of her eyes, gazing back at him.

“Yes.”

She did not immediately reply. He bit his lip, the earlier tension returning, building up. Whoever she was, Milly had probably brought her here as food. She would end up going the same was as Joro and Temina - who, at this particular moment, were progressing through Milly's intestine, their nutrients being absorbed into her body.

“I'm Peana,” she said at last, in a whisper. “I would say `pleased to meet you', but in these circumstances…” A pause. She sounded calmer than he was. But there was a tremble in her voice nonetheless. She was trying to hide it - to be dignified. “Good night,” she whispered.

“I'm Isham,” he whispered back, and wondered whether to say anything else. “Good night…” he muttered, before closing his eyes.

The sound of the two women's breathing -Milly outside the cage, Peana within- helped lull him quietly back into sleep.

* * *

When he woke up again, it was morning. The warmer air bathed his face, drawing him out of his slumber, and he mumbled sleepily, until he remembered where he was. He sat up then, eyelids snapping open, and looked round.

Milly's bed was empty, and there was no sign of her in the room. But inside the cage, sitting close by him, a human woman sat eating some fruit, the papers of his story in her spare hand.

“Hey!” he protested, without thinking. She turned to look at him, just as his still sleepy mind caught up with what he was seeing, and he realised how beautiful she was.

She was a tall woman, slender, with long, very dark brown hair quite similar to Milly's. Her face was young, in her early thirties perhaps, delicate, with a calm nobility of bearing he had rarely seen before. Her skin was smooth, sun-kissed yet still soft, olive-hued. She was wearing a long, single-piece green dress, which once had been the height of elegance, but was now muddied and torn. In itself, it suggested quite a story. Her light grey eyes, contrasting with her olive complexion, watched him questioningly, as though querying his own story. They were solemn eyes, calm and intelligent, yet very much alive; a glimpse at a personality he still knew nothing about.

“Good morning.” Her soft lips played into a warm smile, dispelling the solemnity of her expression. She held up the sheets of paper. “Did you write this?”

“Yes,” he said, warily. “Uhm, and good morning.”

“She's left us some fruit.” She nodded towards it, on a plate. “And some sort of vegetable. Quite salty.”

“Thanks.” He got up, stretching his legs. Those grey eyes watched him, as though waiting to see what he would do next. He grimaced, rubbing the side of his neck. He was not good at mornings. “Uhm, I'm Isham.”

“Yes, so you said last night.” She smiled pleasantly. “I'm Peana.” She put down his story, stood, and held out her left hand; her right was sticky with the juicy, half-eaten fruit she held in it. “Which I said last night, too, but you may have forgotten.”

He shook her left hand with his right one, a little awkward.

“Ah, Peana, OK. Pleased to meet you.”

“Not locked in this cage, I wouldn't think.” She took a bite of her fruit, her clean white teeth sinking into it, juice wetting her lips.

“No, I, uh, suppose not.” He looked around, if only to break away from her gaze. Those pretty grey eyes hinted at thoughts and feelings, layers of them, the workings of a curious, intelligent mind. He was not yet sufficiently awake to cope with a smart, beautiful woman who was soon going to be eaten. Not that she was crying or anything, which made it a little easier. Perhaps she didn't realise yet. “Milly's not here?”

“She went out.” Peana sat down once more, finished her fruit, and pulled a handkerchief out of her dress pocket to wipe her fingers on, delicately. She picked up his story with her other hand.

“Uhm…” He picked up a purple fruit, and turned to her. “Try not to get the paper sticky, right?”

The look she gave him was faintly amused.

“I'll be careful. I've almost finished reading it, anyway.”

“Good.” He nodded. “Because I need to continue it.”

“Why?” Her querying eyes met his. Her tone was pleasant, almost friendly, but curious. “If I may ask. Why are you writing this? For yourself? Or for her?”

Flustered, Isham did not immediately answer. He leaned back against the bars of the cage, and bit into his fruit.

“What's she going to do to us?” Peana asked, calmly. “Eat us?”

He nodded, his face grave, without a word. Her expression turned solemn once more.

“I thought so. The way she looked at me last night…” She paused. “How long have you been here?”

“Two days.” He took another bite.

“You wrote all this in two days?” She held up the paper.

“Uh, yeah.” He shifted, uncomfortable. “Yesterday, actually.”

“You're writing it for her, then…” She bit at her lower lip, her expression thoughtful - a look which made her seem particularly lovely. “Or maybe not. For her to give to someone?”

He shook his head.

“For her,” he said, after a moment's hesitation.

Peana considered the implications of that, her mind working quickly behind her grey eyes.

“So she's not going to eat you.”

He shook his head. Peana looked at him more intensely.

“But she's going to eat me,” she said.

He nodded. Then, deciding that a question like that really did deserve more than a nod in response, said, in a whisper:

“Yes. I think she is.”

“Oh.” Peana fell quiet, absorbing the confirmation of her impending death. Isham lowered his gaze, leaving her to her thoughts. As he expected, she soon spoke again. There was a little tremble in her voice, but, once more, she was putting on a brave face. “I suppose the obvious question, then, is why me, and not you?” She held the sheets of paper close to herself. “Because of the story?”

“Yes,” he said simply.

“She won't eat you, because of the story…” Peana repeated, in a whisper. She was shaken, and trying to conceal it. She looked at the pages. “`The Words to Survive'. I suppose it's what you might call an inspired title.”

“Hmm.” Isham felt more awkward than ever. “It's not very good, is it?”

She shrugged, an honest gesture.

“It's all right. It's entertaining. If that's what she wants.”

“Could you do better?” It was not an accusation. In fact, he was not certain at first why he had asked.

“No… I don't think so,” she replied, thoughtfully. She looked at him. “Do you think, if I wrote, she might spare me too?”

“Perhaps.”

“That she'd keep the two of us? I doubt it.” She paused, sombre, but not despairing. “Of course, I could ask. I've nothing to lose by trying.”

Isham smiled a little.

“Perhaps we could persuade her to let us write a story together.”

She returned the smile, a little warmer now.

“Maybe.” She held the pages up for him, and he took them from her hand. “If we were to do that, I'd need to get to know you a bit.”

Her curious eyes shone with a warmth that dispelled some of her fear. It helped Isham relax a little, too. He sat down, facing her.

“All right,” he said. “I'd like that.” His eyes met hers. “I… I'm not sure where to start, but let's try this. I come from a world called Ehefen. Which literally means `the Planet'. Have you heard of it?”

She nodded.

“So you're from an advanced world. Like me. A world whose people practice dimension-hopping.” She held his gaze. “I'm from Tdafaz. It's wild nature and agricultural lands, most of it, but I'm from a medium-sized town.”

“I've heard of Tdafaz. I can't say I know much about it,” he added apologetically. Peana gave an indulgent smile.

“A lot of people don't. We haven't made much of a splash in inter-planetary affairs.” She folded her hands in her lap, and in the folds of her partly-torn skirt. “So who are you, Mr. Isham?” she asked, with a faintly teasing smile.

“Oh, I'm a city boy. I've had a rather boring life, I'm afraid.” He leaned back, crossing his legs. “Doing odd jobs, here and there. Enough to live on. I've always liked writing for a hobby, which was how I got into theatre. I do a bit of acting, but not much. I mostly write the plays. We've toured a few worlds… which is how I ended up travelling on Felarya Express, and got myself into this current mess.”

“You don't travel much, other than that?”

“I can't afford it.” He shrugged.

“Ah, of course.” She nodded. “You're from a world where they have those… money relations.”

Isham's eyebrows rose a little.

“Why, what's it like where you're from? You don't use money?”

“Not… individually, as such,” she said, looking for the right words. “Not on my part of the planet. It's a bit complicated to explain, but… We have a hierarchical, quite rigid society, really. People have an assigned place. But everyone looks out for everyone else. We share… to some extent; there's quite a bit of hypocrisy in it, though, too.” She inhaled quietly. “I was born into the… Into what's usually called the upper classes. We handle commerce with other communities, channelling out our farmers' produce.” She gave a little shrug. “Enough of the dry stuff. You haven't told me much about yourself yet.” A nice smile. “Theatre is your main hobby, then?”

“Pretty much.” He returned the smile. He found that he quite liked talking to her. “I also like… well, I like walking. Just walking, for a long time. Getting fresh air. Or just walking in the city. Soaking in the world around me, so to speak.” A pause. “I suppose that sounds a bit strange.”

“Not at all.” Her smile was warm and genuine. “I enjoy walking, too.” She crossed her legs as well, and kept her gaze on him. “Are you married?”

Isham laughed.

“No… No, I'm not. Single; no kids… I've had… relationships, but none that built into something lasting.” He met her gaze again. “You?”

“I married quite late.” Her tone turned a little more serious, contemplative. “Only because it was expected of me. Someone of my `status' wasn't supposed to be single at my age. Eventually, I found a man, just a little younger than me, who'd been trying to avoid marriage too. For a different reason; he just wasn't into women.” She smiled faintly. “We became good friends, and did what was expected. Technically, he's my husband, but we live together as friends.” Another pause. “No children, yet.”

Was that just a faint hint of sadness in her voice? Isham nodded, quietly, taking it in.

“Have you heard of mood portraits?” she asked, suddenly. He gave her a curious look.

“Yes. I've got one, actually. A friend gave it to me as a joke.”

“Really?” Her smile blossomed. “My father's sister's husband invented them.”

“Really?” he echoed, then laughed. “Wow. They've been quite a hit. I didn't know they came from…”

“…my backwater planet.”

“…your planet.” They smiled at each other.

Mood portraits were the product of advanced technology - an attractive gimmick, rather than art, despite what their name suggested. They came with sensors which scanned the facial features of the owner, and reproduced them on a digital canvass, thus conveying his or her facial expression whenever the person was within range. Interpreting that person's mood from their expression, the `portrait' then played appropriate `mood music', to signal joy, sadness, anger or even a sense of relaxation.

“They're great when you have guests,” Isham grinned. “You can sneak in and pull a silly face, and your portrait will stick its tongue out at your unsuspecting visitors. Or glare at them, with sinister music.”

Peana giggled. It was the first time he had heard her do so, and it was a remarkably pretty sound. Soft, clear and melodious, almost tinkling. It highlighted the gentle beauty of her eyes.

“I wish I could do that,” she said, laughing lightly. “It wouldn't be considered proper.”

“You should try it. There are endless variations. You can make your portrait scream at people in horror. The music that goes with that is very good. Very sudden, and loud.” They looked at each other, and both burst into a short fit of laughter.

“So what's your `horror' look?” Peana asked, amused.

“Oh… Something like this.” Isham smiled, then concentrated, and twisted his face into a wide-eyed, wide-mouthed, silently screaming, scrunched up look of shock. Peana let out another burst of giggles.

“I can just imagine that in front of unsuspecting…” She laughed. “In front of unsuspecting guests!”

The door to the cabin opened. They both stopped laughing, quite suddenly, and got to their feet, together. Milly walked in. Isham moved closer to Peana - an instinctive, protective gesture. The giantess looked towards the cage, and gave them both a friendly smile.

“Hello, you two! Isham, I hope you've been helping Peana settle in?”

It was said with such innocence that, for a moment, it left him speechless.

“Yes,” he said, at last, warily.

“Good.” Milly smiled. She sat on the bed, and looked up at the cage, still smiling. “How's the story going?”

“I'm… It's going OK.” He glanced at Peana. She gave him a hesitant look, which he responded to with a nod of reassurance. “Speaking of which, Peana has some interesting ideas. I think we could work well as a team. A writing team.”

“Oh?” Milly frowned slightly. She had clearly not been expecting that. “But…”

“We'll do some more writing today, the two of us,” he pressed on, driving the point home. “I think we can inspire each other.”

Milly seemed troubled. She stood, and ran her hand thoughtfully through her long hair. Then she looked at him.

“You're my writer, Isham.”

“Well, so's Peana, now.”

The giantess stepped closer to the cage, meeting his gaze. Her expression had turned serious, and when she spoke her voice was still gentle, but very firm.

“No. She's not.” She turned to Peana. “I'm sorry. That's not what you're here for.”

Peana's shoulders seemed to slump a little, defeated, as the hope drained out of her. She put a hand on Isham's shoulder, softly, and addressed him before replying to Milly.

“Thank you,” she whispered, and her warm voice shivered with fearful emotion. “For trying.” She turned to the giantess, and drew herself up straight, the proud nobility of her bearing reasserting itself. “If you're going to eat me, eat me now,” she said, her grey eyes meeting Milly's brown ones. “Let's get it over with.” A pause. “Please.”

The air around Isham felt tense, and he himself felt horrible. He hung his head, lost, struggling to find what to do. Milly hesitated.

“I'm not hungry,” she said at last. “I've just had five campers. They'll keep me full for a little while.”

Peana stepped right up against the bars, her expression hard.

“To keep me here is torture,” she said, her voice trembling only very slightly. Isham, ashamed of himself without knowing why, felt a burst of admiration for her courage. “It's cruel. You're not a cruel person, Milly. You would be cruel if you kept me here any longer, knowing I can't survive.” Her voice dropped to little more than a whisper. “I'm frightened. I'm frightened, and… I'm asking you to show some compassion. Show me what kind of person you are.”

Isham's head snapped up, glaring at his captor.

“Let her go,” he demanded, hoarsely.

“Isham…” Peana's voice was gentle. “She's not going to do that.”

“Yes, she is,” he insisted. “That would be compassion!”

“You don't understand the way she thinks.” Peana faced him, the look in her eyes so soft… Isham felt tears rise to his eyes.

“She doesn't think,” he said, emotion choking him. “She doesn't feel. She's a monster.” He turned to Milly. “You're a monster!” he screamed, the first tears trickling from his eyes.

Peana smiled sadly, her eyes moistening too. She stepped up to him, and slipped her arms round him.

“I'm sorry,” she whispered, hugging him gently. The emotion was there in her voice at last - sadness and fear. “I'm sorry… Forgive her. And forgive me.”

“I…” Emotion gripped Isham's throat. He could not speak. Tears ran down his cheeks. He hugged Peana back, harder. There was a click, the cage door opening. Then, he felt her being pulled away. The tips of Milly's fingers touched his sides, prying Peana loose from his grasp. “NO!” he yelled.

Milly pulled Peana out of the cage, and held her up, opening her mouth.

“Don't you dare!” Isham screamed, beside himself with fear and fury and grief. “Don't you dare! Don't! Stop it! STOP IT!!”

Held firm between Milly's fingers, gazing down into her damp, open mouth, a glistening pink cavern of warm flesh, Peana met the giantess' gaze one last time.

“I don't hate you,” she said, her voice trembling with fear. “I don't hate you…”

For a moment, Milly looked troubled, her warm brown eyes uncertain. Then, she shrugged, and smiled a little as though to brush off her momentary discomfort. Ignoring Isham's screams, she dropped Peana into her mouth, head first, and slurped up her legs.

She did not hold her long before swallowing.

* * *

Milly left soon after that, to get away from Isham's shouting, and he remained on his own for the rest of the day, pacing in his cage. He was far too upset to write. Peana's face, ghostly, seemed to drift before his eyes, and he clenched his eyelids tight shut, squeezing out tears of helpless rage. There was nothing he could do. It was too late even to talk Milly into vomiting her back up; the giantess had been gone for several hours, and Peana had no doubt left her stomach for her intestine by now.

She was gone.

He screamed his painful rage at the empty wooden walls, trapped in the safety of the cage while, outside, the forest's life moved on, oblivious.

When Milly returned, early that evening, she found him seated on the cage's floor, facing the door to the hut. She entered almost sheepishly, wondering how he would be, and was dismayed at what she saw.

On the cabin floor beneath the cage, shreds of paper lay strewn in a mess, along with the pen she had given him, snapped in half. He looked at her in cold anger, and said nothing. With a little cry, she hurried in, and knelt down, picking up some of the torn paper, seeing the ripped words written onto it -illegible fragments now. She looked up at him and stood, hurt in her eyes.

“You've ripped up your story…”

“Right,” he said, with fierce satisfaction. His eyes blazed, cold and hard.

“Your story…” Milly repeated in a whisper, her voice small and sad. “You never even read it to me… You've destroyed it…”

“You destroyed my source of inspiration,” he lashed back.

“Is that what she was?” Milly looked down at the shredded paper in her hands.

“No!” Isham got to his feet. “No!” he said, fiercely. “No, she was a person, a woman, a… A smart, kind woman, and the bravest person I've ever met. And you ate her!”

Milly shook her head, quietly, her moist eyes still on the paper remains.

“You ate her!” Isham repeated, fierce. “As though… as though she were just…”

“She tasted nice,” Milly whispered, her dismay focused on what was in her hands. It was the wrong thing to say. Isham lurched forward against the bars, screaming:

“She was a person! A living, sensitive…” He choked on his fury. “You're a monster!” Milly's eyes met his gaze at last, and there was sudden pain in them. She opened her mouth to speak, but he cut her off: “You want to know how the story ends? Huh? Is that all you care about? You want to know? I'll tell you.” He was seething. “The brave adventuress reaches the dragon's cave. She thinks she knows what to say, the right words to stay alive… but no, she doesn't.” His voice was hard, brutal. “She gets it wrong. She makes a mistake. The dragon incinerates her. Just like that. She screams, and burns alive in horrible pain.”

“Stop it!” Milly raised her arm, almost as though to ward off a blow. There was pain in her voice, deep dismay, and her eyes shimmered with unshed tears. “Stop it!” she cried. “That's horrible!”

“It's fiction!” Isham shouted back. “But this isn't! You're a real monster! You really do eat people! You don't care, you don't feel… you don't feel anything at all!”

“Stop it!” Milly yelled back, the tears beginning to trickle from her eyes. “That's not fair! You're being horrid! Stop it, stop it, please!”

“`Please'?” Isham's voice was mocking, cruel, full of his own pain. “How many people have pleaded with you, Milly? Pleaded not to be eaten? Where are they now, huh? How dare you- How dare you say it's not fair?” He spread his arms out. “I've finished with this! I'm tired of being the plaything of a monster. You can't threaten me any more. Peana was right. There's no escape. I won't be your plaything. Eat me, then. Kill me for resisting you, like the merciless bitch you are.”

Milly was crying now, tears streaming down her cheeks.

“Stop it…” she whimpered. “It's not like that… Please…”

“It's not like what?” he snapped back, yelling. “It's not like what, Milly? Not like what?”

She did not reply. Crying, her face a picture of misery, she opened the cage. Isham stared at her, then straightened up, and tried to calm himself.

“OK,” he said, no longer shouting now. His voice returned to its cold hardness. In the moments he had left, he would show her only contempt. “If that's what it's going to be.”

She looked at him, almost pitiful.

“You won't write your story again?”

He shook his head.

“Piece it back together, if you can. It's unfinished, anyway. And you're not getting anything else.” He glared into her eyes, and spoke with bitter coldness. “I hope I give you horrible indigestion. I hope Peana does, too. I hope you choke on me and die.”

Milly sniffled, lowering her gaze, and gave a little sob, followed by a stream of tears. She moved to a chair and sat down on it, weeping, her body wracked with sobs as she wept her heart out. Isham moved to the now open entrance of the cage, and stood there, watching her. Seeing her in pain was some small satisfaction. But it would not bring Peana back. And it would not save him.

He looked down at the hard ground, far below.

Perhaps fate had been merciful after all. He had a way out. Not survival, but a quicker death. He closed his eyes, summoning up his courage.

He thought of Peana. She had been brave. So brave… He opened his eyes, took a deep breath, and stepped forward, into empty air.

What happened next was not what he had hoped for. Instead of hard ground, he saw a blur of motion, pale brown skin, and landed with a smack in the palm of Milly's hand; her fingers wrapped round him, holding him secure. She was gasping, as he glared up at her, speechless.

“That would have killed you!” she breathed, panting with aftershock.

“That was the idea!” he snarled. He wriggled in her tight grasp. “Now, please, just, just… Just crush me, or eat me, or do whatever you're going to do, but let's just get it over with!” He gulped, struggling against his own fear. The words were the same as Peana's. Her courage… He drew on it, as best he could. “Come on, damn it! Just put me out of my misery!”

She looked at him for a long time, her lovely eyes shimmering with confusion and pain. Then, very gently, she placed him on the floor, and sat on the floor facing him.

“I'm sorry,” she said, and blinked at her own tears.

“Sorry?” he repeated, surprised and wary. That was not what he had expected.

“Sorry for hurting you.” She wiped at her eyes. There was a little tremble in her voice. “I didn't mean to.”

Isham frowned, puzzled.

“You…” He paused. “You hurt me by eating Peana.”

“Yes. Yes, I know. I… That's what I'm sorry about.” There was such a depth of anguished sincerity in her voice, on her face, that he did not even consider doubting her. Yet he had never imagined she might even be capable of remorse. The revelation stunned him, and he sat down, slowly.

“Oh,” he said.

“I… I'd…” She paused. “Can we talk?” she asked, in a small voice.

He nodded, and she gave a feeble smile.

“Good. OK…” She took a deep breath, and released it slowly. “We got off to a bad start. I didn't realise… I was insensitive. I didn't… I won't bring humans back into the cage,” she said, solemnly. “Not for now, at least. Until you're ok with it.”

Isham breathed out a hoarse little laugh. This was getting more unexpected by the moment.

“Why do you care?” he asked, bitter. “I'm just human. Nothing but food.”

Milly winced, pained.

“Humans… Humans aren't just food,” she told him with a sigh. “Yes, you're edible, and delicious, but… You're not just food.” She shrugged, awkwardly. “I care because… I care. I just do.” She looked at him. “If you'll let me.”

He held her gaze, his own troubled but still hard.

“You want me to stay.”

“Yes,” she said softly.

“You want me to write more stories.”

“Yes.”

“To be your pet human.” She blushed, embarassed, and said nothing. He went on: “But you won't put people you're going to eat into my cage?” She shook her head. He sighed, deeply.

“God, what a messed up relationship this could be…” he muttered.

Milly smiled, faintly, hopefully.

“Can you accept that I'm sorry?”

He sighed again, and rubbed his hand through his hair.

“You know, I didn't have much time to get to know Peana… But in the short amount of time that we had… She was incredible.” He said it simply, without anger. He had spent so many hours seething with anger, he was just tired now. Milly's apology had drained him. “She wasn't just beautiful, she was smart, kind… Unique.” He paused, letting that word hang in the air. “Every person is unique, Milly. Every time you eat someone…” He trailed off. “Yes, I can accept that you're sorry,” he said, and looked away. But not before catching a glimpse of her smiling with relief.

“Thank you,” she said softly. She picked him up, and placed him back in his cage. He did not resist. “I…” she began. He waited. “I won't… I won't bully you into writing,” she said at last, the embarassment returning to her face. “I'm sorry about that, too. I was just… I was very excited, about having someone to write for me. I'm sorry.”

He nodded, too weary to speak. She seemed to accept his nod, and smiled slightly. Another gentle smile of relief.

“I'd like to get some sleep now,” he said. “If I can.”

“Of course.” She closed the cage door. Her expression was kindness itself, and his mind swam in tired confusion. The kind face of a monster… He moved over to his moss bedding, and lay down, turning his back on her. His thoughts were jumbled, overwhelmed with conflicting feelings.

He was asleep within minutes.

* * *

He resumed writing his story the next day, and read the beginning of it to her in the evening. She was delighted, thrilled almost to the point of tears, but kept her enthusiasm under control, mindful that his behaviour remained quiet and withdrawn. She did not intrude upon his thoughts when he turned away from her, and he felt silently grateful for it.

The following day was much the same, devoted mostly to quiet writing, and to a reading session in the evening. Once more, he was able to project his mind into his story. It was beginning to take on a life of its own, and it provided a much-needed escape from his uncertain future and the dreary monotony of his cage. His main character, Deliya, also seemed to acquire a personality of her own, and he enjoyed writing about her, fleshing out her personality and making her more complex as he filled the pages. It took him a while to realise he was basing her in part on Peana.

Or rather, on what little he knew of Peana, and on what he imagined her to have been.

On the third day, Milly tentatively began to talk to him, drawing him out of his sullen shell and attempting to establish some sort of bond. They were sharing the same home, after all, and she admitted she was curious about him. He allowed himself to answer some of her questions, offering glimpses of who he was, but asked her few questions in return. He tolerated her, but he did not want to like her.

Days went by. True to her word, Milly did not bring anybody else into his cage. When she undressed for the evening, he sometimes noticed her tummy was bulging a little, and he knew what type of food was probably inside it, but he made no comment. She was kind enough to eat only outdoors, out of sight, and he in return did not accuse her of being a `monster' again. He did not forget Peana, but he did not talk about her. The thoughts made him feel bad enough.

Inevitably, living everyday with Milly brought them closer together. She was an attentionate captor, ensuring he was as comfortable as she could make him, and addressing him with a kindness that no longer seemed quite as strange. She was an eager audience of one, and looked forward with almost childish enthusiasm to hearing the continuation of his story, every evening. She was almost incapable of criticism, but her happy smile as she listened to him gave him additional stimulus to write. Fairly soon, he found that he really was writing for her - not as a burden to ensure his survival, but because he liked the look of simple pleasure on her face when he read it to her. The realisation bothered him, a little, but soon enough he was able to accept the obvious. He was beginning to like her.

Living with her made it difficult not to. Despite her diet, it was impossible not to acknowledge that she was, fundamentally, a nice person. Friendly and kind, caring and smiling, she might almost have seemed like a friend - were it not for the fact that she was keeping him behind bars.

And then, for the first time in almost two weeks, an outsider intruded on his little captive world.

Milly was out -as she often was-, so when the hut door opened, he naturally expected it to be her. When he saw it wasn't, he tensed, getting to his feet quickly. It was another giantess.

She had light skin, short-cut brown hair, and a rather more athletic build than Milly's, albeit distinctly feminine. The hair over her forehead was pushed back by a headband, set with a single, light green gem in its centre. His eyes widened, as the giantess' gaze swept round the empty cabin, before settling on him. Then she smiled.

“Oh, whoah!” Isham cried out, trying to remain calm. “Are you a friend of Milly's?”

“Relax,” she told him. “My name's Jade. I'm not going to hurt you.” She walked up to the cage. The floorboards creaked a little. He watched her, tense and wary.

“What do you want?” he demanded. For once, the cage felt safe, a rampart against predators. There was no lock on Milly's door, but this was the first time anyone had come in uninvited. As long as he was inside the cage, this giantess could not get at him. Unless, he realised suddenly, as she reached up towards the hook in the ceiling, she takes the cage with her, and smashes it open later… Now he began to panic. “Hey!” he shouted. “Hey! Milly! Help! Someone!”

“Shh…” Jade unhooked the large cage, and held it up in front of her face. “It's all right. As I said, I'm not going to hurt you.”

“Like hell!” He tried to keep his balance on the now rather unsteady floor. “What d'you think you're doing?”

Jade smiled.

“Rescuing you. Now be quiet. We have to go quickly, before the giantess who lives here comes back.” She turned, and began to walk towards the door, taking the cage with her. The lurching motion threw Isham off balance, and he fell onto his backside. He grabbed one of the bars to steady himself.

“Res…cuing me?” he repeated, surprised.

“Yes,” she told him. “I heard that Milly keeps humans in a cage. I disagree with that. Now shh. Don't make too much noise, until we're well away.”

Stunned, Isham shook his head.

“Rescue…” The word itself sounded strange. He had never imagined rescue. He leaned back against the bars, feeling a little dizzy - and not just from the unsteady movement. Jade stepped out of the cabin, into the small clearing in front of Milly's home. Isham breathed in the fresh air, looking around. His mind whirled. Jade took only a few steps, and then stopped.

He immediately saw why. Milly was walking towards her, and she looked, to put it mildly, very displeased.

“What are you doing with my human?” she snapped.

Jade held the cage tight, and stood her ground.

“He's not your human!” she retorted.

“Well, he's definitely not yours!” Milly reached her, and stood facing her, glaring at her. “Give him back!”

“No!” Jade clung to the cage, protectively. “I'm going to set him free.”

“Out in the jungle? He'll die! Now give him back!” Milly made a grab for the cage. Jade stepped back, and Isham hung on to the bars, shaken by the jolt.

“Ouch! Ladies, if you wouldn't mind not making me seasick…”

“I'm not going to just leave him in the jungle,” Jade explained. “I can bring him somewhere he'll be safe. I'm not leaving him here for you to eat!”

Milly smirked, a hint of amusement slipping through her anger.

“Jade… It's Jade, right? The giantess who saves humans. I've heard of you.” She paused. “It's nice to meet you at last, but… I'm not going to eat him.”

Jade frowned, still holding the cage close.

“What?” She looked at her. “I don't believe you.”

Milly nodded towards Isham.

“Ask him.” Both giantesses looked at him. He sighed.

“It's true. She's not going to eat me.”

Jade seemed unhappy with that.

“How can you be so sure?”

“I just…” Isham watched Milly's face. “I'm sure.”

Jade lifted the cage up to the level of her face once more.

“But she locks you up,” she pointed out. “She keeps you here. Captive. I can make you free. I know somewhere you'll be safe. Under my protection.”

Isham looked into the giantess' kind, honest face. He hesitated. He glanced at Milly. She looked tense, but she was saying nothing. He turned back to Jade, and motioned his lips, nervous.

“I…”

“Do you want to be free?” she pressed.

A rescue… His one chance, perhaps. He bit his lip. A whole new future. Safe… if Jade was to be believed. Away from Milly. He glanced at his captor again.

“Come on!” Jade urged him, a little puzzled.

“I…” Isham gulped, and shook his head. His thoughts were muddled, but his feelings were not. Not any more. Suddenly they were falling into place, with more clarity than he would have imagined. A sense of relief washed through him, sweeping away some of the tension of the past days. These feelings were not reasonable, and he would probably regret them… but, somehow, they felt right.

“I'd like to stay here,” he said. He looked over towards Milly. “For now, at least.”

Milly met his gaze, her brown eyes warm and surprised. Slowly, gently, she smiled.

* * *

Far away, on a distant world, in a large, tastefully decorated house, a portrait hung on a wall, in a study, over shelves stacked with books. A nearby window refracted the light of a setting sun, shining upon the image. There was no-one in the room. All was quiet.

It was the portrait of a woman, about thirty years of age, with smooth olive skin and long, lush, very dark brown hair. Only her head and shoulders were visible, the latter covered in a richly embroidered, blue-green top. It was a mood portrait, and as its subject was not within the range of its sensors, it had reverted to its default setting. It presented the woman smiling, very softly, a hint of merriment on her gentle lips and in her truly striking grey eyes.

Peana's portrait would never change again.

A long way away, on a different world, in a smallish flat high up in one of the many towers of a bustling city, hung another mood portrait, this one of a man. It, too, hung in an empty room, its subject nowhere in sight. It showed him grinning, a little awkward, a hint of shy uncertainty in his dark green eyes.

Isham's portrait would never change again either.

But he did not know it yet.

THE END