The traps were disappointing today, two skinny hares and a single trout. But he had managed to find fresh tracks on the deer family that had evaded him for weeks now.

“Overall net positive I guess...” Robert muttered to himself, “I'm a hunter damn it, any idiot can trap...” But that hadn't stopped him from resorting to an overabundance of snares and other tricks during this unusually sparse Autumn.

If things continued the way they were he might have to temporarily relocate, maybe even to the city. Even the thought made him grind his teeth. Too many people, no privacy, and worst of all, taxes. Because who doesn't dream of living in a shitty overpriced room with a government agent screeching at your door, demanding you pay your dues.

Still, the nearby medical attention would be a godsend. The bear pelt, meat, and teeth were fantastic. The bear-induced wounds, not so much. And he feared that they would slowly get infected as the weather chilled further.

But as he approached the lodge he paused. Something, or someone had been dragged through the ground, and they weren't being subtle about it. A papery scrap was caught on the fence and as Robert knelt to inspect it something clattered in his home.

“Looks like we have company.” He quickly bundled and looped the day's catch into a tree branch before circling around to the back of his home.

Knife in hand he descended into the cellar. His guest was shuffling around above, like they weren't even trying to be stealthy, or even cared about being caught. “Bloody amateur...” He strung up the bodies of the last pack of raider visitors but took them down when the local cult started making pilgrimages.

He popped his head up through into his kitchen to find everything in disarray. Clambering out he pushed the pantry door closed and made a mental note that his lunch was now missing. A traveller down on his luck? That didn't explain the deep grooves in the front yard, or why they needed to knock everything down and make such a mess. Confused, Robert peeked into an adjacent room and groaned.

“Damn it Starla.”

Starla twisted her head around, her face a facsimile of innocence. “Langston, you're home early.”

“I'm home at the exact same damn time everyday.” He sheathed his knife as she approached, circling him in a hug and slowly squeezed. “Goddamn it, are you always this cold.” Robert gasped.

“You know I can't start a fire, and is this any way to greet an old friend?”

“I don't know about you, but people tend to give some kind of warning before they come over.”

“But I did! I left some of my skin outside, you must have seen it.”

“Is this some kind of lamia tradition or something? Because if I started leaving chunks of myself outside the cult might start coming back.”

“You're so rude.” Starla uncoiled herself and stuck her tongue out, “Even calling me a naga isn't entirely accurate. How would you like it if I called you an oriental?”

Robert shrugged, “Some of my best friends are yellow. Makes no difference to me.” Starla glared but started to giggle, her entire body gently shaking. “You haven't changed a bit.”

“And neither have you, except, I think you're getting longer. Have you been taking care of yourself? I think your scales are more dull.”

“Probably just the weather.”

“If you're molting again you're on your own. Snake skin isn't worth much these days and I used most of it as kindling.”

“Rude! Is this how you respond to a lady in distress?”

“Who said you were in distress?”

“Obviously I came all the way here if I needed some help, help in a way that only you can do Langston.” She had started to wrap herself around him again before pressing her nose against his. “You're special Langy, and I only trust you.”

His pulse quickened, “This better not be molt-”

“Shhhh... Can I tell you how I feel? My feelings?”

He nodded once as she pressed against his ear.

“I'm hungry.”