Mindlessly walking toward the cabin's front door where Mary and I were staying, I replay the events from the guild in my head.

  "It's a bit last minute," the man had said as I read over the paper, "but I'm sure you'll find the rewards and compensation up to par."

  Biting my lip, I pause mid-step.

  The offer does sound pretty good, especially the pay—even for a porter—despite the short notice. But... a dungeon?

  The icicles on the ground dig into the soles of my feet as the wind continues to swirl around me, flicking bits of snow across my face and into my vision. The tentacles squirm within the bond, fussing from the cold—some even trying to hide under my coat.

  Crossing my arms, I frown.

  my hands awkwardly raised while Mary hugs me, I let out a small sigh. Slowly, I lower my arms and pat her on the back.

  “Do you know how worried I was?” Mary says, pulling back just enough to grab both sides of my face. “Why did you just disappear like that?”

  As she cups my face, she pulls me down closer to her height, then begins shifting my head around roughly, muttering under her breath.

  “Mary?” I manage, as she tilts my head to one side. “Can you please let—”

  While she’s inspecting me, I catch a brief glimpse of something behind her determined expression—like a cloud of sadness brewing in her eyes.

  Frowning, I begin to speak. “Is everything—”

  The woman suddenly hugs me again, crushing whatever air is left in my body.

  Forcing myself to relax, I slowly glance down at her. Despite her best attempt to hide it, I can feel the small tremors running through her body.

  I stare down at the woman for a moment before letting out a long sigh.

  I guess it's fine to stay here for a bit longer.

  "A dungeon?" Mary says, raising one of her eyebrows in surprise.

  After what feels like an eternity of standing outside in the cold, awkwardly, with Mary hugging me, we are now inside the warm cabin.

  Sitting on a chair, I try shifting in my position as Mary inspects my left leg resting on her lap. The tentacles are draped all around me on the ground, mostly seeming to be unconscious as they slumber peacefully. The ones still awake just let out soft sounds in the background, content to let the bond be felt through quiet, calm pulses.

  "Yes," I answer, as a tentacle hands her the paper the man gave me. "It's a bit short notice, but…"

  Letting my words trail off, I wince as a small jolt of pain runs down the sole of my foot and up my leg.

  "And here you keep lecturing me about taking care of myself," Mary says, gently lowering my leg. "Maybe you should try taking some of your own advice first."

  Crossing my arms, I frown at the woman.

  "That's because you're more vulnerable than me," I say. "I'm not as easily hurt as you."

  At that, Mary gives me a look, then wordlessly gestures toward my feet.

  "You know very well what I mean," I reply.

  Also, excuse me for worrying about the fact that we could end up kicked out of this cabin and into the cold once all our finances dry up.

  "Anyways, we're going off topic," I say instead, gesturing with my head toward the paper in Mary's hand. "The dungeon pays well, but there's plenty of problems that can arise."

  Clasping my hands together, I tilt my head to one side.

  "Setting aside the environment and everything else inside them," I continue, "since neither of us were prepared for a dungeon—let alone one this soon—we don’t have the necessary tools. So if we decide to go through with this, it’ll still be dangerous, even if we gather everything we need."

  The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

  "Right," Mary says, nodding. "But—"

  "However, it's undeniable that the pay for this quest is pretty good. Especially compared to most other quests that hire porters like us," I go on. "If we were to take this on, we could afford to live here for several more months."

  Pausing, I chew on my bottom lip.

  …Of course, that's not the only thing I'm concerned about. There’s something about this quest that nags at me, something I can’t quite put my finger on.

  "Wait, what brought this on?" Mary asks, jolting me out of my thoughts as she leans forward.

  Blinking, I raise an eyebrow. "Our finances?"

  "Yes, I get that," Mary says, nodding. "But we’re not actually in danger of getting kicked out just yet."

  I frown at her. "What? But didn’t you say I was out for several days? The original quest we were planning on taking would’ve already passed."

  "Yes," Mary replies. "It was a huge loss, but that doesn’t mean we’re in immediate danger."

  Propping a hand under her chin, she regards me carefully. "Look, I appreciate your help, but you shouldn’t worry too much about it."

  I raise an eyebrow and frown again, but before I can speak, Mary lifts one of her arms and flexes her bicep.

  "Little old me is gonna get us through everything," she says with a smile. "So don’t worry your little head over it. Just focus on recovering."

  Pursing my lips, I let my eyes scan up and down her. Every now and then, I catch small tremors in her arm. Bits of mud mixed with snow cling to her skin. Most of it looks fresh, hastily wiped off like she didn’t have time to properly clean up. Through the bond, I can sense the pulses of sympathy flowing from the tentacles.

  Recalling how Mary entered the cabin when I first woke up—covered head to toe in snow—I feel my stomach twist.

  Did she go out and do some jobs while I was unconscious, just to keep up with the bills? Why is she doing that when she’s still sick? Mary should be in bed, recovering.

  “So don’t worry about it, okay?” Mary says, drawing my attention back to her. “Just focus on getting better, alright?”

  I sit quietly, letting the woman gently hold my hands in hers.

  I slowly glance down at Mary’s wrinkled hands resting on mine.

  …I see. She’s just as worried about me as I am about her. Even at the cost of her own health.

  Briefly closing my eyes, I breathe in and out before looking back at Mary.

  …I cannot let her keep doing this to herself. The rent for this cabin is enormous. She’s going to end up working herself to death at this rate.

  “Yes,” I say with a smile. “I’ll be sure to do that. Just make sure you’re taking care of yourself too, okay?”

  Mary lets out a bark of laughter. “I might be old, but I ain’t a child, y’know. Don’t worry about me. I can take care of myself.”

  She suddenly yawns and stretches her back. “Wow, I’m a lot more tired than I thought.”

  Mary rubs her eyes, trying to keep herself awake.

  “Anyway, I need to catch some sleep,” she says. “There’s a job coming up that’s going to take me away for a few days. Gotta stay in tip-top shape after all.”

  “Of course,” I say, nodding.

  Smiling at her, I move my hands away and rest them on my lap, closer to my stomach.

  I need to join that dungeon quest while Mary is away.

  Later that night, when darkness has fully settled and the view through the window is so black it might as well be void, I slowly rise from the bed. A few tentacles briefly stir from their slumber before letting their consciousness slip back into unconsciousness.

  The cold wooden floor grazes the soles of my feet, feeling like ice against my still-regenerating skin.

  I tilt one foot up and glance at the sole. Scars and blisters run across it. Small and medium yellow pustules, filled with fluid, cluster around the wounds.

  I’m never going to get used to how this regenerative factor looks. So long as it’s effective, I guess.

  Looking away, I turn toward the chair Mary usually sits in—the one she’s claimed since we arrived in the village a few weeks ago.

  The chair is empty. So is the usual eye-searing orange-and-black striped backpack she always leaves beside it.

  Hmmm… strange. I thought Mary would’ve been here. Did she go out again?

  Then I remember what she said last night. I bite my lip.

  Ah, right—she did mention needing to leave for a few days for some work. I didn’t realize it would be this early.

  Turning away from the chair, I slowly inch toward where my backpack is sitting.

  …I wish I could convince her to stay, but knowing her, she’s too stubborn for her good.

  Taking the backpack with me, I move toward the windowsill. A tentacle slips out and pulls a piece of paper and a pen from one of the side pouches.

  I place the bag down beside the wall, take the pen cap between my teeth, and yank it off.

  Using the window sill as a surface, I quickly jot down a note on the paper.

  Once I’ve written everything I need, I place a small rock on top to keep it from blowing away.

  There. That should ease Mary’s nerves. Somewhat. As much as I don’t want to make her worry, I need to do this. We need the money. And Mary… her health hasn’t exactly been great. I don’t want her working herself to the bone just to keep us afloat.

  I set the pen aside, pick up the backpack, and sling it over my shoulder. As I make my way to the door, my core tightens.

  I’m the best person for this job. If I get hurt, at least I have a regenerative factor as an Essevian. It’s low compared to other undead or regen types, sure—but it’s better than nothing.

  My tentacles drag behind me like heavy drapes, slowing my pace. When I finally reach the door, I close one hand around the knob.

  I turn it halfway, then pause as bile rises in my throat.

  Taking one last look at the empty cabin, I sigh and close my eyes.

  No. I’m right to do this. It’s for the best.

  With that, I fully twist the knob and jerk the door open. Freezing wind rushes in, chasing away what little warmth clings to my body.

  The tentacles, ones still asleep that is, jolt awake from the cold, filling the bond with a mix of panic, confusion, and annoyance.

  The ones already awake emanate tiredness laced with quiet resignation. Curling my fingers into fists, a flash of memories from the past several years with Mary surface.

  I don't care what happens. I only needed Mary.

  Straightening my back, I step outside and close the door behind me.