Orengeflame
patreon
JL Chapter 7 A Bath
🕑 Added 2025-08-21 05:00:19 +0000 UTCThe streets of Varnhelm were busier than Mitchell would have liked at this hour. Merchants organized and hawked their new stock from their stalls, adventurers swaggered out of taverns ready to get started on their new quests, and townsfolk hurried to finish errands or on their way to work.
In the middle of it all, Mitchell trudged forward, adjusting the weight on his back, shifting Lovel’s legs slightly as he trudged down the cobbled streets.
Lovel’s arms were draped loosely around his shoulders, her wolf ears twitching at every shout or clang of metal from the crowd. Her tail dangled weakly behind him, brushing against his side whenever he shifted. She was awake now, but her body was still too frail to carry itself.
People noticed.
Some only gave him curious glances, others lingered with open disdain or pity. A man carrying a dirty, collared wolf-girl slave wasn’t exactly an uncommon sight. Mitchell felt their eyes on him as he walked, quick glances, murmurs, a few outright stares.
Mitchell tried to ignore it, focusing on the eastern gate looming ahead. His plan was simple: get to the river, hunt some slimes and scrape together enough copper to pay for a few more nights at the inn and maybe another meal.
‘Just ignore them.’
Lovel, meanwhile, kept silent for a time. The strange warmth of his back pressed against her, steady and strong, yet completely at odds with everything she knew of “masters.” The confusion twisted inside her chest until she finally spoke.
“…I can walk on my own.” Her voice was low, almost reluctant. “You don’t have to carry me, Master.”
Mitchell glanced back, raising an eyebrow. “Really? Because last time you tried standing, you nearly faceplanted on the floor.”
Her ears flattened a little. “Even so. I am your slave. You shouldn’t waste your strength on me. I should be working, no matter the condition I am in. That is what slaves do.”
Mitchell glanced over his shoulder at her, brow furrowed. “Yeah, no. That’s stupid. It’s faster if I carry you.”
She frowned, her arms tightening faintly around his shoulders. “But… slaves are not treated like this. Any other master would have forced me to walk. Injured or not.” It was fact. She was telling him how things were.
“Yeah, well,” Mitchell muttered, shifting her weight a little higher on his back, “I’m not them.” He gave a wry chuckle. “Besides, I’m already being cruel enough dragging you outside when you’re still recovering. You can’t defend yourself, can’t run away if something happens… This isn’t fair to you.”
Lovel blinked, staring at the back of his head. Her master was really weird. Her ears flicked and for a moment she was quiet. Then she said, with surprising firmness, “That’s not cruelty.”
Mitchell blinked. “What?”
Her tail twitched against his hip as she spoke, voice firmer now. “You saved me,” She said simply. “If you had not bought me, and if you had not used your strange magic, I would already be dead. The slavers had no intention of healing me. To them, I was useless.”
He stumbled a little on the cobblestone, her words hitting harder than he expected.
Lovel rested her chin lightly against his shoulder, her voice softening. “You are not cruel. Not like them. Whatever this is… you’ve already done more for me than anyone else would have.”
Mitchell swallowed hard, his grip on her tightening. Her words should have eased his conscience, but instead they only deepened the weight of what he’d done. He had still bought her. Still put a price on her head.
‘She’s thanking me… for buying her. For owning her.’
The weight on his back suddenly felt heavier, not from her body but from the thought itself. He forced a crooked smile she couldn’t see.
“Well… thanks, I guess,” He said quietly, his eyes fixed on the eastern gate ahead. “But don’t go making me sound like some kind of hero.”
Her tail brushed lightly against his side. She didn’t answer, but he could tell she was still thinking about his words.
As the gate drew closer and the two exited the city, the noise started to fade, replaced by the rustling wind. Mitchell squared his shoulders, tightening his grip on the straps of his sword..
‘First we hunt some slime to trade their cores for copper. Then maybe… maybe I’ll stop feeling like complete garbage about this.’
But deep down, he doubted it would be that easy.
—---------------------------------------------
The dirt path crunched softly beneath Mitchell’s worn sneakers as he trudged toward the river. The distant trickle of running water grew clearer with every step, mingling with the rustle of leaves from the surrounding trees.
On his back, Lovel shifted slightly, her wolf ears twitching. Then she inhaled sharply through her nose as it twitched.
Mitchell glanced at her. “Uh… you good back there?”
Her eyes narrowed, golden irises glinting faintly. “Something is close. I can smell it.” She turned her head slightly, nose twitching again. “To the left. In the bushes.”
Mitchell stopped dead in his tracks. “Wait, really?”
“Yes,” She said, her tone matter-of-fact. “As a beastman my sense of smell is greater than the average human.”
He blinked, then slowly turned his head toward the direction she indicated. His pulse quickened. ‘Okay, could be something dangerous.’. His stomach twisted at the thought, but then another thought crashed in right after. His money was nearly empty. If it was something he could kill and haul back, maybe he could sell it for a little bit of copper. With only two copper left, they couldn’t afford to waste opportunities.
He shifted his grip on her legs, trying to peer through the bushes. “If I kill it, maybe I can sell the parts to the guild…”
But before he could take a step closer, Lovel’s hand tightened faintly on his shoulder. Her voice dropped to a whisper. “You must be quieter. Prey can hear you if you crash through the grass like that.”
“Ughh. So what do I do?” He whispered back, then immediately stepped on a dry twig that cracked loudly beneath his shoe and winced.
Her ears twitched in irritation. “If you want to hunt it, you must move quietly and slowly, while crouching to not make yourself noticeable. Keep your weight on your toes. And keep your distance. Get too close, and it will flee before you can strike.”
Mitchell’s lips pressed into a thin line. Still, he nodded and whispered back, “Since when are you, like… a professional hunter?”
He crouched, moving forward with exaggerated care, trying to copy how hunters sneaked in movies. The underbrush rustled as he pushed through, Lovel adjusting her weight on his back to keep him balanced.
Quietly Lovel whispered. “Before I was a slave, I was a hunter.”
This caught his attention but while Mitchell was interested in learning more, unfortunately this wasn’t the place to ask more.
Following her instructions, Mitchell crouched slightly, easing forward with careful steps. When they finally had a clear line of sight, he froze.
There, in a small patch of grass, sat what looked like a rabbit… if rabbits had two sharp, spiraling horns jutting from their heads like a goat’s. Its fur was mottled brown, its eyes bright and alert as it nibbled on weeds.
Mitchell stared, half in awe, half in disbelief. “…Is that a jackalope?”
Lovel ignored his rambling, her voice a hushed murmur near his ear. “It is a horned rabbit. Small, but dangerous if cornered as it uses its horns to bash predators. If you wish to kill it, you must strike it from a distance.”
“Distance, huh…” He looked down at the bronze sword strapped to his side. Too heavy to throw, too short for a lunge from here.
He scanned the ground in frustration until his eyes landed on a decent-sized rock, half-buried in the dirt.
“Alright. Time to see if I still have a throwing arm.”
He bent down, grabbed the rock, and weighed it in his palm. His heart pounded. He hadn’t thrown anything in years outside of trash into bins and usually missed half the time. But right now, he didn’t have the luxury of nerves.
With a grunt, he hurled the rock.
Thunk!
It smacked the rabbit squarely on the head. The creature let out a sharp squeal and staggered, dazed.
Lovel’s grip on his shoulder tightened. “Hurry. It will recover quickly!”
That snapped him into motion. He scrambled forward, nearly tripping over a root before pulling his sword free. The rabbit was already shaking its head, trying to right itself.
Mitchell raised the bronze blade high over his shoulder, both hands gripping the hilt. His arms trembled with the weight, but adrenaline surged through him.
He brought the sword down in a clumsy but powerful swing.
Shlunk.
The blade cut deep, and the rabbit collapsed instantly, its body going limp in the grass.
Mitchell stood there, chest heaving, staring down at the horned rabbit’s corpse. For a moment, disbelief washed over him.
“…I did it,” he whispered. Then louder: “Holy crap, I actually did it!”
Behind him, Lovel blinked, still resting against his back. He could feel her heartbeat steady against him as she murmured softly, almost to herself. “Clumsy… but effective.”
Mitchell stood over the limp body of the horned rabbit, chest still heaving from the adrenaline. The thing looked smaller dead than it had been alive. He crouched down, carefully sliding Lovel off his back and onto the grass.
Reality hit. He had no idea what came next.
“Alright,” He muttered, gripping the hilt of his bronze sword. “How hard can this be? Just… cut it open, get the good bits, and—uh… try not to be a bitch.”
He knelt beside the rabbit and awkwardly positioned the sword. The blade was far too big for the delicate work, and his first attempt at slicing into the fur made it clear he had no idea what he was doing. The cut was jagged, uneven, more like hacking firewood than skinning.
Lovel winced visibly, ears twitching back. “You should stop before you ruin the meat.”
Mitchell froze mid-slice, looking up at her with wide eyes. “What? Why? I’ve almost got the hang of it—”
“You’re destroying the meat.” Her voice was sharp but weak, her arms wrapped around her knees as she sat in the grass. “If you keep hacking like that, you’ll ruin all of it.”
He blinked, then glanced at the mangled line he’d carved into the rabbit’s side. “…Okay, maybe I’m not entirely qualified for this.”
“Just let me do it,” Lovel said, holding out her hands. “If you want food that can actually be eaten, give it to me.”
Mitchell frowned. “You can barely stand. I’m not gonna make you do any work when you’re supposed to be resting.”
Her golden eyes narrowed, and there was a faint edge of pride in her voice. “My legs are weak, but not my arms. I can still use my hands. Better me than you turning it into scraps fit only for dogs.”
Mitchell opened his mouth, ready to argue, but shut it again when he saw how serious she was. ‘She’s got a point. I really was about to butcher this thing. He sighed and lowered the sword. “Alright, fine. But don’t push yourself too hard.”
“Give me the rabbit,” She said simply, extending her arms.
Mitchell handed her the limp body, then offered her the bronze sword a little sheepishly. “Uh… we don’t exactly have a proper knife.”
Lovel examined the weapon, tilting it slightly in her hands. “It's better than nothing.” She set the rabbit on her lap and glanced back at him. “Do you have anything to wrap the meat in? It will spoil quickly if left in the open.”
Mitchell paused, scratching the back of his head. Wrap the meat? I barely even thought about how to cut it, let alone store it. Then it clicked. “Wait—I’ve got the wrapping papers from the skewers I bought yesterday.” He dug through his pack and produced the slightly crumpled sheets. “They’re not clean, exactly, but…”
“It will do, we don’t want dirt or insects on it.” Lovel interrupted with a small nod.
Then, with surprising efficiency, she began working on the rabbit. Despite the clunky large sword, her hands moved with practiced precision. She peeled away the fur, cut away the entrails, and separated the meat, placing each piece carefully into the wrappers Mitchell handed her. Her motions were steady, almost graceful, like she’d done this hundreds of times before.
Mitchell watched in silence for a moment, then gave a low whistle. “Wow. You make it look… way easier than it probably is.”
She didn’t look up, only continued working. “Because it is easy, if you know how. Like I said before, I was once a hunter and food means survival. I have skinned more than a few rabbits. You learn quickly when the alternative is starvation.”
Her words were blunt, but they carried the weight of her past, and Mitchell felt a pang of guilt twist in his chest.’ ‘Here I am fumbling around like an idiot, and she’s so much more skilled than I am.’
When she finished, she handed him the wrapped bundles of meat and then set aside the rabbit’s horns, and furred skin wiping them clean with the edge of her tattered clothes.
Mitchell frowned, holding up the horns. “Uh… not to be rude, but why are we keeping the horns and fur?”
Finally, she met his gaze, a faint spark of amusement in her tired eyes. “They have value. Craftsmen can use them for tools, clothes, ornaments, even charms. They may fetch a good price.”
Mitchell blinked, then grinned sheepishly. “Huh. You’re way better at this than me. Guess I really would’ve butchered it.”
“I’m sure you will get better with practice, master.” She said flatly, though the faint flicker of her ears suggested she was not entirely displeased with the compliment.
Mitchell packed the meat skin and horns into his bag, then crouched down again. “Alright. Ready to go?”
She gave a small nod, and he lifted her gently onto his back once more. She settled against him. As he started walking again, the sound of rushing water grew louder, carrying the promise of slimes nearby.
—--------------------------------------------------------
The river shimmered under the sun, a ribbon of silver cutting through the farmland. On the far bank stretched neat rows of crops swaying gently in the breeze—wheat, vegetables, even patches of berry shrubs. Farmers moved slowly in the distance, small figures bent over their labor, though the sound of rushing water drowned out their voices.
Mitchell kept to the muddy edge of the river, carefully placing his sneakers so he wouldn’t slip face-first into the current. The road had long disappeared behind them, leaving only the quiet stretch of grass and water. It was… oddly peaceful.
Then his nose reminded him of something less peaceful.
He grimaced. Lovel’s scent clung stubbornly to the air—dirt, sweat, faint traces of blood and decay from her time in the cages. But if he was honest with himself, he wasn’t much better. He hadn’t showered since the truck accident that brought him here. ‘God, I probably smell like a dumpster.’
He glanced back at her on his shoulders. Her ears twitched lazily, her head resting against him, tail swaying slightly. She looked almost relaxed.
“Hey, uh… Lovel,” he started, clearing his throat. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but… maybe we should, you know… bathe. Like right now.”
Her ears perked, then angled back. “…Bathe?”
“Yeah. Wash and clean ourselves up in the river.”
Instantly, her arms tightened around him. “No. I don’t like water.”
Mitchell blinked. “Wait, what? Why?”
She frowned, looking away. “It gets in my fur. I don’t like it.”
He chuckled, shifting her weight on his back. “Well, tough luck. If we don’t stay clean, we’ll start to smell worse—and worse than that, we’ll get sick. Dirt and sweat carry diseases. Trust me, a fever out here isn’t something we want to deal with.”
That made her pause. Her brows furrowed in thought. “…Is that why I was ill? Because I was dirty?”
Mitchell slowed his steps, realizing the seriousness in her tone. “Could be part of it, yeah. You weren’t exactly living in sanitary conditions back there.”
For the first time, she didn’t argue. She just looked troubled, ears drooping slightly.
Mitchell crouched by the water and carefully lowered her down to the grassy edge. The river lapped gently at the mud, cold and clear.
“Alright,” he said, setting her upright. “You don’t need to go swimming or anything. Just splash some water on yourself. Wash off the dirt. I’ll… give you some privacy.”
But as he moved to step away, she grabbed his sleeve.
“…What if the river drags me away?” She asked softly.
He blinked. “What? I’m not telling you to jump in! Just the edge, Lovel. Ankle-deep, maybe. I’ll stay nearby in case you fall.”
Her grip didn’t loosen. “…Then why don’t you just stay with me?”
Mitchell scratched his cheek awkwardly. “Because, uh… well, you might feel uncomfortable if I’m… you know… watching while you're, uh, undressed.”
Her ears flicked as she tilted her head at him. “Why would I care?”
“…Excuse me?”
“You’re my master,” She said plainly. “If you want to look, you can look. Why would I care about… privacy?”
Mitchell’s jaw dropped. He sputtered. “B-because you’re a girl! And I’m a guy! And people don’t just—don’t just strip down in front of each other unless… unless it’s, y’know, intimate!”
Lovel blinked at him, utterly unbothered. “I’ve been naked in front of people before. Even when… relieving myself. The cages didn’t allow privacy.”
Mitchell’s brain short-circuited. ‘Why would she say that so casually?!’
He slapped a hand over his face. “Okay, okay, stop. Do you realize how hard it is for me to keep thinking pure thoughts when you say stuff like that?”
She tilted her head again, ears twitching curiously. “Pure thoughts?”
Mitchell groaned, dragging his hand down his face. “Never mind. Forget I said anything.”
She studied him for a moment, then added, almost teasingly, “If you are so worried, then help me wash instead.”
“Listen Lovel-.” Mitchell was about to argue back, but was quickly stopped by Lovel.
“If you don’t help me. I won't go into the river.” Lovel stubbornly said.
Mitchell sighed, shoulders slumping. “Alright… let’s just get this over with before I lose my nerve.”
He set Lovel gently down on the grassy bank, then placed his sword and backpack carefully to the side, making sure they wouldn’t get wet. His hands lingered on his hoodie for a moment, and he could practically hear the voice in his head screaming.
‘This is insane. A girl’s about to see me naked. A real girl. And she’s… she’s really pretty. Oh God, what if she laughs? What if she looks at my fat and—’
He shook his head hard, cheeks burning, and stripped down quickly before he could second-guess himself. Hoodie, shirt, jeans, sneakers—all folded into a neat pile atop his backpack. He would love to wash his clothes as well but he only had a single set of clothing and didn’t have anything else to replace it while he waited for his clothes to dry. Left with nothing but the river breeze against his skin, Mitchell tried not to cover himself awkwardly.
Lovel, sitting there with her ears flicking, just… stared. Unbothered. Not a hint of embarrassment in her golden eyes.
Mitchell felt like his brain was melting. ‘How is she so calm about this?! I’m about to pass out from nerves and she’s just watching like it's nothing!’
Taking a deep breath, he turned to her rags. “Right… guess it’s your turn.”
Her old, torn rags slid off easily. And there she was frail but striking, her pale skin marred by faint scars, her ribs still visible from malnutrition. Her tail twitched, ears dipping shyly, though her face betrayed no shame.
Mitchell’s throat went dry. For a moment, he could only stare, heart hammering, caught between awe and guilt. He quickly felt something below him rising, but he tried to ignore it, even as Lovel saw it without any reaction.
‘She’s beautiful… even like this. And I shouldn’t be thinking like this. Focus, Mitchell. Don’t screw this up.’
He then scooped her up in his arms in a bridal style, and waded slowly into the river. The cold water lapped against his legs, biting into his skin. Lovel shivered violently and pressed herself closer, burying her face against his chest.
“It’s too cold,” She muttered through clenched teeth.
“Yeah, no kidding,” He said, forcing a laugh to cover how tense he felt.
The water reached his waist, and he stopped there. Lovel’s arms looped around his neck, her body tight against his. Her warmth clashed with the icy river, and Mitchell tried desperately not to notice the very obvious problem pressing between them. If she noticed, she didn’t say a word—she only clung tighter, ears flattened.
“Alright,” Mitchell said quietly, swallowing hard. “I’ll, uh… I’ll handle this.” Seeing how tightly Lovel was holding him, it was clear that it would be up to him to wash Lovel.
Cupping his hands, he gathered water and splashed it gently over her head, her shoulders, her arms, her neck. He then rubbed carefully, brushing dirt from her skin. This caused Lovel to let out small, involuntary sounds, as the grime loosened under his touch.
‘Oh God… she’s making noises. Stop enjoying this. Stop enjoying this. She’s just relieved to be clean.’’
But it was hard not to get lost in it, the softness of her skin, the way her ears flicked when his fingers brushed the base, the way her tail twitched as he smoothed the water over it. Every sound she made dug under his skin, sending a thrill through him. He kind of got too into it as her moans were intoxicating as this was his first time feeling the body of a woman and he wanted to use this chance to explore as clearly Lovel didn’t mind. He rubbed her slim back, her full breasts, her ass to her legs.
“You… are very thorough, Master.” Lovel murmured, voice strangely soft.
Mitchell blinked, his hands pausing against her back. “S-sorry, I just… want to make sure you’re actually clean.”
To his surprise, she lifted her own hands, hesitant at first, then pressed them against his chest. She copied his motions clumsily, running her palms over his skin, up to his shoulders, down to his stomach.
Mitchell almost jumped out of the river. ‘She’s touching me back. Oh God, she’s actually—’
Her ears twitched again. “This is how you clean, yes?”
He nodded quickly, almost too quickly. “Y-yeah, yeah, that’s—uh—that’s right.”
They stayed like that for a while, scrubbing away mud and days of grime, their bodies pressed close under the river. Mitchell’s heart was pounding like a war drum, but Lovel’s calm, almost curious expression kept him anchored.
Then, suddenly, the bushes near the bank rustled.
Mitchell froze, head snapping toward the sound. For one wild second, he imagined goblins bursting out to mock him in his most embarrassing moment.
“…Guess that’s enough for now,” He muttered, forcing a nervous laugh as he turned toward the shore.
Still clutching Lovel to his chest, he trudged back toward the bank, heart racing—not entirely from the threat in the bushes.
The second Lovel’s bare feet touched the grassy bank, she wriggled free from Mitchell’s arms and, to his surprise, gave a vigorous shake, her ears, tail, and hair whipping droplets of cold river water everywhere.
Mitchell sputtered as a spray hit his face. “Gah! Hey! You’re not supposed to shake on people!”
She glanced back at him, expression perfectly calm, as if she’d done nothing strange at all. “This is how you dry. You don’t have a cloth, do you?”
“…Okay, fair point,” He muttered, wiping his face with his hands. A moment later, he sighed and copied her, giving himself an awkward shake like some oversized, soggy bear. It did little more than make him look ridiculous, but it was better than nothing. “Man… anime never showed this part of adventuring.”
Lovel tilted her head. “Anime?”
Mitchell blinked, then waved it off. “Er, nothing. Just… another world thing.”
Once they were done dripping, Mitchell scrambled to pull on his clothes again. The cold damp of his skin made the fabric stick uncomfortably, but at least he wasn’t standing there naked anymore. He helped slip Lovel back into her rags, they clung less miserably to her body. He made a mental note to find her something better—anything better—once they had coins to spare.
He tightened the straps of his backpack, slung the bronze sword back to his hip, and glanced toward the treeline. The rustling earlier still tugged at the back of his mind.
“Hey, Lovel.”
She flicked her ears in his direction.
“Can you, uh… smell whatever made that noise? Just in case.”
Obligingly, she closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, her nose twitching faintly as her ears rotated. For a moment, she was quiet, then shook her head. “Nothing nearby. The only scents are you, me… and the rabbit meat in your pack.”
Mitchell exhaled in relief. “Good. Maybe it was just some curious critter sniffing around for lunch. Ran off when we started approaching.”
With nothing else to go on, he bent down and scooped Lovel back onto his back. Her arms looped naturally around his shoulders, her chin brushing against his shoulder as she settled into place.
“Now then,” Mitchell said, trying to inject some cheer back into his voice. “Let’s go slime-hunting before we waste the whole day.”
Done, tell me what you think and if I made any mistakes.
