Anno woke early from her sleep. She’d rested well and hadn’t heard a sound all night.
This was a sleep method she’d been trained in from childhood—once asleep, she shut out all external perception, and unless someone shook her hard and shouted her name, nothing could wake her.
Perhaps this was a little lacking in vigilance for wilderness adventures, but as a paladin, her primary duty was to rest deeply and keep her strength for any coming battles—not to keep watch or stand guard.
That was a ranger’s, wanderer’s, or mage’s job—their spells and skills covered those needs. She trusted her teammates to handle what she herself was ill-suited for. So she placed her faith in them every night, dropping into deep sleep to recover fully.
And her teammates never abused that trust. Hattie and Theresa both swore they’d laid early-warning magic so everyone could rest easy.
But in truth, they hadn’t used any alarms at all. Their way of keeping the camp safe was simply to stay up together all night—agatha the included—taking shifts to guard the camp and watch the surrounding area to ensure everyone’s safety.
Fortunately, that proved enough. At least, no half-orc tried anything foolish, and everyone slept through the night and woke safe the next morning.
In fact, during that night, Theresa had managed to leave "certain traces" on Willo... ahem.
But after this night, something rather remarkable seemed to have happened to some people.
As they washed up together, Anno glanced at the tail now extending from the druid’s backside, looking a little confused. "What... is that?"
She pointed at the tail, though politely refrained from touching it.
Nidalee’s cheeks flushed, the stretching fullness from the large plug lodged in her rosebud still leaving her more than a little uncomfortable—even her walk was noticeably off.
But Charles’s instructions were unyielding: the truth could not be revealed. So she forced herself to endure, weaving a flimsy lie: "I, um, made a little mistake with wild magic during a shapechange... my tail didn’t turn back properly..."
"It doesn’t matter. It’s not really in the way—just a little awkward to walk right now... It’ll probably go away by itself in a few days."
She managed a strained smile, knowing full well that even for a novice, druidic magic never caused such symptoms; any real druid, like Willo, would see right through the excuse.
But Nidalee couldn’t do better. This was the only reason she could think up, so inwardly she prayed it would be enough to get by.
Fortunately, although Anno was not without some basic knowledge, she was utterly ignorant of druidic training, and so, without a second thought, accepted Nidalee’s explanation as fact. Pure-hearted as she was, Anno’s knowledge of romantic matters—let alone toys for more private pleasures—was nil.
Looking at that odd little tail, Anno’s face twisted in sympathy. "So that’s it. I hope you recover soon."
Though inwardly, despite knowing it was rather unkind, she couldn’t help a little schadenfreude.
Serves you right, she thought, you’ve been flaunting your intimacy with Charles all week, driving me mad with jealousy!
Anno, whose resentment had built up for days, couldn’t help snickering now that Nidalee had hit a little snag.
Meanwhile, as Nidalee washed up, she felt all sorts of odd sensations in her body and the constant suspense of nearly being found out. Her heart pounded all the harder.
So satisfying! Teasing Master in front of Anno during the day, sneaking into his tent at night to be disciplined...
I get to enjoy myself twice every day, day and night...
Ahh, I never want this to stop!
She made up her mind: today she’d provoke Anno and tease Master once again.
The following days thus became the happiest for the druid. Every day, she risked her life at least once or twice, and every night she slipped into Charles’s tent for her "discipline," living life to the fullest.
Charles himself could only sigh; even though his discipline grew stricter each night, it only seemed to excite Nidalee more, sending her to new heights of happiness.
As for Anno—it’d be a lie to say she wasn’t upset, watching her boyfriend get pulled around by another woman for the sake of keeping up appearances. She even found herself secretly wishing Nidalee’s tail would stick around even longer, so the druid would suffer a little more.
She had no idea the tail was actually just one of Charles’s discipline toys. Still, every time she saw Nidalee’s awkward gait, thanks to the tail, she secretly savored the sight for a long while.
Besides this, Anno’s days were spent digging out stones and trading intelligence on demons and demon-worshipers with Willo. The Green Vines tribe had begun investigating much sooner, so they’d picked up more vital details regarding the demons, which Willo gladly shared with Anno.
On a side note, every night Willo kept having her "spring dreams," waking startled, going to the tent’s edge to peep at Charles’s shadow, eavesdrop on their noises, and comfort herself.
Theresa wasn’t present every night, but fortunately, Willo’s "technique" was improving with practice.
And so, three days slipped by. By now, it was the fifth morning they’d been trapped beneath the earth.
Everyone continued working in two groups, alternating rest and labor. At this moment, Charles, Hattie, Anno, Theresa, and Nidalee were on a break, the other four busy with brute force and magic up ahead.
Nidalee sat beside Charles, a long tail reaching from her lower back. She was in equal parts discomfort and delight, anxious and excited; glancing at Anno, her mind spun with plans for how to cozy up to Charles just to stoke Anno’s ire.
"Darling," Nidalee suddenly said, "my back’s so sore...could you rub it for me?"
With that, she bent down, curling up on his thighs like a little cat, her smooth brown back exposed and waiting for his hands. Read full story at 𝔫𝔬𝔳𝔢𝔩✶𝙛𝙞𝙧𝙚✶𝕟𝕖𝕥
Charles froze. He didn’t look up, but he could feel an icy, murderous glare burning into his back.
He didn’t dare move, but he could also sense that Willo, over by the vine and rocks, was casting spells and sneakily watching their interaction—like some old crone obsessed with romance—
Nidalee, don’t force me!
Do you want me to stop playing along?!
He groaned inwardly and finally slapped her on the back with a sharp crack. "You know I’m not gentle—go ask Hattie, she’s the professional."
Casting a glance at Hattie for help, he begged for rescue.
There, Hattie and Theresa sat side by side—two girls who’d once competed for the monastery’s top nun—now the best of friends, quietly giggling as they watched the drama unfold.
Hearing his plea, Hattie refused, signaling to Theresa, who immediately leaned on her, voice thick with drama: "Oh, my neck and shoulders are so sore~ Hattie, give me a massage, please!"
"All right, my dearest Sister Theresa." Hattie’s voice grew just as saccharine. She slipped her hand into Theresa’s nun’s habit, gently kneading. "I love you so much. I’ll rub you anywhere you want!"
Damn it, these witches were no help at all, actually stirring up more trouble!
He bit his lip, gave up hope for rescue, and stared down at the druid still lying across his thighs, feeling that this woman was growing bolder every day.
Wait until we’re back at the monastery. Here in the cave I can’t make any noise, but back home, you’ll see how I handle you!
He swore a silent oath—but it did nothing to save him here and now. Sweat beaded on his brow, and just as things seemed hopeless, rescue arrived at last—
Suddenly, from up ahead came the rumble of falling stone. A cascade of debris, and then, at last, a narrow way opened up—barely wide enough for one person to pass through!
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