Dusan walked along the stream, checking the empty nets. Then he undressed, folded his clothes on a large, sun-heated boulder, and entered the stream. After the warm summer air, the water felt icy. The forest streams were colder than the river they eventually joined, and he didn’t particularly enjoy bathing in them. Lately, though, when he had tried to wash in the river with the others, they had treated him strangely. There had been no open hostility, yet their conversations would go quiet when he approached, and laughter would die off when he asked what they were joking about.

He didn’t like to get undressed in front of them. It felt like all the eyes went to the scar on his side, the one that should have killed him, but hadn’t done so.

It was unfair to be treated like that, especially after he had saved them from a very real threat. True, disposing of the pirates’ ship had mostly been Reijo’s work, yet it had been Dusan who had made him do that. He could understand that prejudice could never allow the others to see Reijo as anything other than an enemy, yet the way they shunned Dusan himself had taken him by surprise.

Of course, not everyone treated him that way. Mirche had been constantly inviting him over to eat with him and Zora, whose round belly seemed to be getting bigger each day, or offering him to participate in hunts. Dusan appreciated the effort, yet hunting with a bunch of resentful, silent men was only marginally better than being alone.

He had begun to prefer solitude. Hunting was better in groups, but fishing was a perfectly acceptable solitary activity. He made makeshift nets and knew to pick the right spots to set them. The forest streams had less fish than the river, but it saved him the need to deal with the looks and the sudden silences of his fellow villagers.

That was only temporary, he knew. They would eventually forget his mysterious recovery from what should have been a mortal wound, and things would get back to normal. Until then, he was content with fishing and bathing in the icy cold water. Sometimes he thought that perhaps Reijo’s love of solitude had rubbed on him a bit, despite the shortness of their encounter. He wished he could discuss it with Reijo or ask him more about the airies’ way of life. Reijo hadn’t shown up since the night he had healed Dusan’s wound, and Dusan had no idea where to look for him. If they were to meet again, the initiative could only come from Reijo.

When Dusan finally emerged from the water, the air felt chillier, a small cloud concealing the sun. Shivering and limping, the sharp stones prickling at his feet, he went to the boulder to get dressed. It was only then that he noticed that someone was sitting upon it.

“Hello,” said Reijo.

Dusan gaped in surprise, then jerked his hands down to cover himself.

“Too late,” said Reijo. “I saw it. It’s small.”

“It’s because of the cold water!” Dusan snapped, irrationally hurt by the remark.

“It’s not that cold,” Reijo said, leaning on his hands, throwing his hair back. “It seems like a fairly warm summer day to me.”

“The water in the stream…”

“I get it.” Reijo rolled his eyes. “I’m messing with you, can’t you tell?”

“Get off my clothes. I’m cold.”

“Just dry in the sun,” Reijo said, raising his face up to soak in the sunshine, closing his eyes, showing no intentions to move.

Dusan briefly considered shoving him off the boulder to access his clothes, but quickly thought better of it. This wasn’t just a friend joking with him. This was an airie, who, if pissed, could be unpredictable. Don’t give me a reason to hurt you, Reijo had said. Would Dusan pulling his clothes from underneath him be considered a good enough reason for attack? Why Reijo even showed up—to look for trouble, or to break the boredom of his solitary existence?

“Where have you been all this time?” Dusan said. With the sun out again, it wasn’t too bad when he stood in its light, droplets of water drying on his skin.

“Here and there,” said Reijo, his eyes still closed.

“I thought you intended to visit me sometimes.”

“And here I am.”

“Yes, but it took you weeks.”

“I believe we have already established that my need for company is way lower than what you consider normal.”

“Perhaps,” Dusan said. His shivering had ceased, and he felt better, save for the slight embarrassment of being fully naked in the presence of someone fully dressed. “Or perhaps you wanted it to look like you weren’t interested in my company, so you took your time.”

“Suddenly, you’re an expert on my reasoning? Let me remind you that we have only met, what—three times?” Reijo shook his head, then slid off the boulder and stretched a bit, standing next to it. “Fine, have your clothes. You look so pitiful naked, it’s a pain to watch.”

“Pitiful?” Dusan said, coming over to grab his pants. “You wouldn’t look any different.” He looked Reijo over, but there was no way to tell if his anatomy under the tunic matched that of an adult human male. Come to think of it, Reijo had hinted once that airies didn’t reproduce the way humans did, so he actually could look different underneath his clothes.

Dusan began to put his pants on, then paused as he noticed Reijo looking below his waistline again.

“Stop staring! What’re you so curious about?”

“It’s just funny,” Reijo said, “how quickly this part of you reacts to everything. Cold, pain, pleasure...”

“Whatever’s in your pants, I’m sure it reacts the same way,” Dusan grumbled, then tensed as Reijo stepped closer. “What now? Can’t I dress in peace?”

“Just a moment,” Reijo said. “I’ve a little experiment in mind.”

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