Aloise Hartley glanced nervously over her shoulder at the interchronometer, then back at the washroom door, which still had not opened, and then back at the interchronometer again.

Aloise bit her lip. Then, walking across the room, she tapped on the door more than she knocked on it.

"Beryl?" Aloise tried, hesitantly.

From the other side of the door, Aloise could hear something clatter to the floor.

"Don't come in here!" Beryl called back, from inside the washroom.

A second later, something else landed on the floor with a loud crash, and Aloise cringed.

"Beryl, are you okay in there?" Aloise asked, her hand drifting towards the doorknob.

"I'm fine!" Beryl shouted back, sounding anything but. "I'm... I'm just not ready, is all."

Aloise started to turn the knob.

"Don't come in here!" Beryl shouted again.

Aloise sighed, and she glanced over her shoulder again. According to her interchronometer -- a device of her own devising, which could keep perfect time across entirely separate planes -- it was getting perilously near to sunset on Mortava.

Aloise took a deep breath, and she knocked on the door again -- more firmly, this time.

"Beryl, I don't want to rush you," she said. "Really, I don't. Only, well, it's just that we're going to be late, if we don't leave now."

For a second, no sound came from inside the washroom. Then Aloise could hear Beryl's footsteps creeping closer to the door.

"Maybe... maybe you should just go without me?" Beryl said, quietly.

Aloise Hartley laughed.

"If I went by myself, then it would hardly be a double date, now, would it?"

"I suppose not," Beryl said, and something about the way she said it made Aloise smile.

"So, come on, then," Aloise said. "Open up, and let's have a look at you."

After a moment of silence, Aloise felt the knob turn beneath her hand, and the door to the washroom swung open.

"How do I look?" Beryl Trevanei asked.

Aloise had to shake her head as she caught sight of Beryl, and to suppress a smile. The dress that they had collected from the village tailor earlier that day was almost the exact same green as Beryl's eye, and, while Aloise had felt sure that the color would look striking when they had picked it out, now that Beryl was wearing it, the result was beyond wonderful. The deep green fabric swooped gracefully down from Beryl's shoulders and fell to just below her knee, revealing the new pair of sandals that they had collected from the village cobbler just after their visit to the tailor. Beryl's heart-shaped pendant hung around her neck, and she played nervously with the enchanted ring on her finger as Aloise looked her up and down.

"Well?" Beryl tried again, glancing down at her feet.

"You look beautiful," Aloise said, and, leaning forward, she kissed Beryl softly on the lips.

The green-eyed woman closed her eye and sighed, and Aloise's smile widened.

"Keep doing that, and you're going to make me want to get dressed up more often," Beryl said.

"I think I might like that," Aloise said. "Although, for the record, I would also think you looked beautiful if you were wearing a burlap sack."

"I think I might feel less nervous in the burlap sack," Beryl said. Glancing down, she placed a hand protectively over the heart-shaped pendant which lay atop her chest, covering both the necklace and the raised red scar beneath it. "The neckline of this dress is... a little lower than I'm used to. I usually don't show so much scar in public."

With one hand, Aloise brushed a wisp of black hair away from Beryl's face, while, with her other hand, she gently ran a finger along the scar over Beryl's heart.

"Your scars are part of what makes you beautiful," Aloise said, and she kissed Beryl again.

Beryl looked into Aloise's eyes, and she smiled.

"Keep doing that, and you're going to make me not want to leave," Beryl said.

Aloise laughed, and shook her head.

"Well, we can't have that," she said, and, taking Beryl by the hand, she led her out of the washroom, and into the bedroom beyond. "Not after I went to all the effort of getting dressed up, too!"

Aloise herself was wearing a dark blue jumper dress over a cream-colored blouse, along with the pearl necklace which Beryl had made for her, and a pair of tall, kraken-skin boots. Clicking her heels together, she presented herself for inspection, and performed a little twirl.

Beryl blushed.

"You look beautiful, too!" she hastened to add, as her cheeks went bright red. "I meant to tell you that, earlier, but I think that I was too busy thinking it, if that makes any sense?"

Aloise grinned.

"If I rendered you speechless, then I will take that as a compliment," she said.

"You often have that effect on me," Beryl said, her cheeks still burning. "You know?"

From atop the desk behind them, the interchronometer rang.

"You can tell me more about how I take your breath away later," Aloise teased, and she took Beryl's hands in hers. "For now, we've got to fly, if we don't want to be late."

"When you say 'fly,' are you being literal, or figurative?" Beryl asked.

"Both," Aloise said, and she grinned. "The restaurant that Daneera invited us to? It's in the top of a tree."

"Daneera's the one that's your friend, right?" Beryl asked.

Aloise nodded her head.

"I met her on one of my expeditions, not too long after I met you," she said. "But that's a whole different story."

"And what's her friend's name again?"

"Kerik," Aloise said. "I haven't met him, yet, but, from what Daneera told me, he sounds like he's an absolute gem."

"Daneera and Kerik," Beryl repeated quietly to herself. "Daneera and Kerik." She glanced up at Aloise. "You won't let me forget their names, will you?"

"No," Aloise said. "I won't."

"And you'll help me figure out which fork to use, if this place we're going to is the sort of place that has a lot of different forks?" Beryl said, looking nervous. "Because it seems like that's the sort of thing that varies from plane to plane, and I wouldn't want to embarrass you."

Aloise smiled, and shook her head.

"The sense I got from Daneera is that the place we're going is maybe a little more rustic than all that," she said.

"Okay," Beryl said. "Remember the names, forget about the forks."

"Exactly that," Aloise said. She gave Beryl's hands a squeeze. "Now, are you ready to 'walk?"

Beryl nodded her head, and she closed her eye.

"As ready as I'll ever be," she said.

"In that case, take me out on a date?" Aloise said.

Then she closed her eyes, too, and the two women stepped together into the Eternities.

“Do I have to?”

Sundar Elarion hung his head. “Yes, Antine, you have to.”

“But, fire’s your thing. Can’t you just, I don’t know, conjure some?”

“Of course I could,” the half-elf said, “but I’m not always going to be here for you. There will come a time when your life may depend on being able to build a fire. Yourself.”

The young foxman sighed, tugging slightly on the fur at his left wrist. This gave him an idea. “You know, we are in a desert. I think my fur will keep me warm enough…”

“It’s not just about heat, Antine,” Sundar said. “Fire also keeps away predators, or lets people know where you are. It’s vital that you know how to build one.”

“But it looks hard,” Antine whined.

“It is,” Sundar confirmed, then sighed. “Alright, look, I’ll make it easier for you.” He handed the young fox a small piece of gray stone. “This is flint. It should get you a spark.”

“I already have a Spark.”

Sundar stared at his friend. “Funny. Look, Antine, you need to be able to do this if you want to survive in the Multiverse. Didn’t you say you rode through the Wastes in Jakkard for days? Didn’t you have fire then?”

“Well, sure,” Antine said, “but I had matches with me from Dayko, and even in the Waste, there was firewood!” To illustrate his point, Antine gestured around them. There wasn’t a tree for miles.

“Other things burn,” Sundar said. “And even deserts have resources, if you look for them.” Sundar glanced up at the sun, nearly straight overhead now. “Okay, Antine. Here’s the deal. I’m going to planeswalk away, and take care of some business. I’ll return tonight and find you. In that time, I need you to scout around, find something to build a fire with, and build it.” He pointed to a nearby rock formation. “That is perfect for a camp because it should break the wind, so I would suggest building your fire there, but you may have to do it somewhere else if you can’t find resources around here. Okay?”

Antine whimpered, but nodded. “I’ll try, Sundar.”

“Good,” Sundar said with a nod. Then he stepped forward and laid a hand on Antine’s slumped shoulders. “I know you can do this.”

Antine nodded again, and Sundar smiled, stepped backwards, and vanished. Antine’s first instinct was to planeswalk, as well, maybe to a forest somewhere, or to a firewood shop, but he figured that Sundar would know. The half-elf was a master tactician, and usually saw through Antine’s attempted tricks with ease. Dejected, Antine looked around the desert, trying to think of some way to start. Not seeing anything, he climbed up onto the rock formation Sundar had suggested he use as a windbreak to get a better view. Nothing. Even from the higher vantage point, he couldn’t see a single tree in any direction.

Antine climbed down and considered his options. He needed to choose a direction, start walking, and hope against reason that he found something. He was just about to start off when he realized he would never be able to find his way back. Everything in the desert looked the same, and as soon as he was out of sight of the rock, he would likely never find it again. He needed to leave some kind of a trail.

Antine was looking around him for anything that might leave a trail in the sand when his black eyes fell on the ornate hilt of the Kahvan saber, the magical sword he had obtained on Lefkos. The blade was long enough, and Antine short enough, that he could drag it behind him, drawing a long line in the sand behind him. Pleased with himself, Antine drew the blade, set the tip into the sand and started walking.

He had only made it about four or five dozen steps, however, when a gust of wind assaulted him from his right. He braced himself as the wind kicked sand into his face, but just as quickly as the gust had come, it died down. Antine took a few more steps before he looked behind him and froze. The trail he was leaving was gone. The wind had blown it away almost completely, except of course for those last few steps. Antine slumped his shoulders again. This just wasn’t going to work.

As Antine was about to slide the blade back into its scabbard, he paused. Maybe, he thought, there was still a use for the Kahvan saber. Its magic, as he himself had used on Anissem, conjured a massive volley of arrows. And arrows, Antine realized suddenly, were made of wood. With a wicked little vulpine smile on his face, he turned back toward the rock formation and held up the sword. Remembering what he had done in the Dual-Walker’s tower, and trying to remember everything Sundar had taught him about using mana, Antine funneled what power he had as the blade began to glow.

After he felt he was prepared, Antine held the sword upward above his head. He waited until some small sense within him told him the sword was ready, and when it was, he brought it down quickly. Above him, the air waved as the magical portal opened, and a moment later, a rain of arrows appeared, hammering into the rock and the sand around it. Antine’s smile widened. He wondered how many arrows he would need for the night. With a shrug, he brought the sword up again, waited, and signaled another volley. Figuring it was better safe than sorry, he launched a third one, and then sheathed the saber. Proud of himself, he set about collecting all the arrows and building a fire.

He couldn’t wait to see the look on Sundar’s face when he returned.

Daneera was walking two or three steps behind Kerik as they climbed the steep, spiral staircase that snaked its way around the trunk of the cloudshaker pine from the forest floor below to the tiny restaurant that lay nestled within the tree’s needled canopy. The climb was turning out to be more arduous than Daneera had expected. The secretive restaurant was apparently owned and operated by a tiny conclave of gastronomically-inclined fae, whose winged number accounted for the vast majority of the treetop clientele, and which explained why the staircase that permitted access for non-flying meal-seekers seemed to have been constructed as an afterthought. The incline of the steps was punishingly steep, and there was no handrail. Daneera’s thighs were burning from exertion, and they were still several loops of the staircase away from the top.

But the unexpectedly-difficult ascent had not soured her mood. For one thing, it meant that she was working up an excellent appetite. For another, it meant that she was afforded an excellent view of Kerik’s backside as the two of them climbed the towering staircase.

Daneera was enjoying that vantage point, and she was particularly enjoying the way that Kerik’s muscles moved beneath the fabric of his clothing as he climbed, when the huntress noticed something which made her try and fail to suppress a laugh.

On the step ahead of her, Kerik stopped and turned around.

“What’s so funny?” he asked.

Daneera looked up at him with a wolfish grin.

“Your pants are on backwards,” she said.

Kerik was dressed in a neatly-ironed gray tunic and matching trousers – the same ensemble which he had purchased during his courtship of Daneera. Daneera herself was wearing her least-scarred set of leathers, along with a fine timberwolf pelt which she had tanned and trimmed herself.

She had chosen that particular pelt to wear because it was the best fur which she had available, and because she had wanted to make at least some effort to look nice for the occasion. It was not until after Daneera had already donned the wolf hide that it had occurred to her – belatedly – that the provenance of her outfit might possibly make Kerik uncomfortable.

If anything, though, the sight of Daneera clad in wolf skin had had precisely the opposite effect on Kerik, such that the two of them were now in acute danger of arriving late for their rendezvous, and the haste with which they had dressed presumably explained how Kerik had somehow managed to put his trousers on backwards.

From his elevated vantage point on the staircase, Kerik craned his neck backwards, trying to get a better look at the state of his sartorial affairs.

“Oh, rats,” he said, as he confirmed his state of disarrangement.

Slipping a finger inside his belt, Kerik gave the leather a tug and glanced down at his undergarments, before sighing in relief, and letting the belt snap back into place.

“At least I got those on straight,” he said.

“Don’t worry,” Daneera said, and gave her lover a pat on the rear. “No one will notice.”

“You did,” Kerik said.

“Yes,” Daneera said. “But then I’ve been staring at your backside, and staring at your backside is my prerogative, and no one else’s.”

Kerik grinned at that, before turning and resuming his climb up the staircase.

“I keep forgetting that I’m your trophy,” he said.

“I prefer to think of you as my conquest,” the huntress said. “That makes it sound like you fought back.”

“Which I did,” Kerik said. “In a manner of speaking.”

“I know. I have the claw marks to prove it.”

At that, Kerik paused on the next step, before looking over his shoulder, so that he could see Daneera’s face.

“Well, now that we’re on that topic, there is a reason that I typically try to avoid other people,” he said. “To say nothing of fine-dining restaurants in tightly-enclosed spaces. That, plus I don’t always do well in stressful situations, and, if I’m being honest, this whole ‘double date’ thing has me feeling pretty edgy.” A look of nervousness crept across Kerik’s face. “So… are you sure this is really the best idea?”

Daneera sighed. She was not, in fact, sure that the double date was the best idea. Much like Kerik, Daneera, too, preferred to keep civilization at arm’s length, albeit for slightly different reasons. As far as she was concerned, it was already frightening enough that she had to primp herself up for public display, to comport herself for a whole evening beneath the judgmental eyes of strangers, to pass the time between appetizers and entrees by making polite conversation.

So the prospect of her boyfriend suddenly transforming into a ravenous werewolf over after-dinner drinks didn’t help matters much.

The problem was Aloise Hartley, the huntress reflected. It was Aloise who had first suggested the idea of a double date, and any idea sounded like a good one when Aloise was suggesting it.

So Daneera put a brave face on, and decided to make the best of the situation.

“I’m not worried,” she told Kerik. “Your last transformation was barely a week ago, so I don’t think you’re due for another one anytime soon.” She flashed him a grin. “Besides, if something does happen, we’ll just get you a doggy bag.”

Kerik pretended to groan at the pun, but he returned her smile.

“Okay,” he said. “I trust your instincts.”

“They’ve been good so far,” Daneera said.

“Remind me again who these people are that we’re meeting?” Kerik said.

“Well, there’s Aloise,” Daneera said. “She’s the one I’ve been telling you about.”

“She’s your friend, right? The one from far away?”

“Far away. Yes.”

“So how did you meet her, then?”

Daneera sighed, and shook her head.

“We had a mutual acquaintance,” she said. “But that’s a whole other story.”

“And Aloise’s friend? What’s his name?”

“Her name,” Daneera corrected. “And it’s Beryl.”

“Oh, sorry,” Kerik said, sounding a little bashful. “I forgot, I guess.”

Daneera shrugged. “No matter,” she said.

“Do you know this Beryl, too?” Kerik asked.

“Not really,” Daneera said. “I mean, the way Aloise goes on and on about her, I feel like I know her life story by now. But we’ve never actually met.”

Kerik looked like he was about to ask another question, but he was interrupted by a strange popping sound, which shook the branches of the tree around them, and which was followed quickly by a high-pitched woman’s scream, which seemed to come from someplace high above.

Looking up, Daneera saw a bright white light tear across the evening sky, before disappearing into the canopy above. A moment later, the screaming stopped.

“What was that?” Kerik asked. His hair was practically standing on end, and he looked spooked.

In spite of herself, Daneera grinned.

“I’m pretty sure that was our dates arriving,” she said. She gave Kerik another pat on the rear. “So get that handsome backside of yours moving – we’ve got a reservation for four, and I don’t want to be late.”