"That Way, Little Nutbrain!"

"Okay... okay... don’t panic. We’ll figure this out,” the elf mumbled aloud, lips pursed in thought as she scanned the canopy above.

Perched confidently atop her head, the little squirrel gave an urgent squeak and pointed with its tail—straight into a tangled mess of forest.

The elf’s amber eyes followed the motion with a blink.

“Wait, again? I thought you said it was the stump with the mushrooms!” she huffed, voice rising into a pouty grumble. “Now it's... the twisty tree past the bendy tree near the spiky bush? That’s not even—! Ugh, never mind!”

Her oversized bow creaked across her back as she planted one hand on her hip and pointed with the other, her delts bulging, triceps flaring into a tight horseshoe from the motion alone. The squirrel, undeterred by the ocean of thick green muscle beneath it, squeaked again, fluffing its tail proudly.

“You’re lucky you’re cute, fuzzball. You’ve had me doing forest laps for an hour!” she sighed, blowing a strand of green hair from her face. Her enormous lats shifted with every exhale, almost brushing the quiver slung over her back. “At this point I’ve burned enough calories to eat a whole elk. Or a dozen walnuts, in your case.”

She stepped carefully over a root—carefully, as in the tree trembled slightly when her calf brushed it—then stopped and looked up, eyes narrowing with suspicion.

“Are you absolutely sure you even have a tree? Or did you just make this up for a ride on my head?”

The squirrel paused. Then, slowly, bashfully pointed again—this time to a barely visible clearing up ahead.

The elf blinked. “...Wait. That’s actually promising.”

Her expression softened as she raised her arm and flexed out a gentle stretch, the powerful ball of muscle at her shoulder shifting under a thick sheen of forest sweat and tension. Despite her size—arms wider than her head, pecs fighting for room against her thick harness straps—her tone was light and patient, even as she tilted her head to the side and gave her passenger a mock glare.

“Alright, fine. You win. One last try, but if this leads to a chipmunk rave again, I swear I’m putting you in the quiver.”

The squirrel chirped nervously, quickly nodding.

She smiled and gave a slow, exaggerated sigh.

“Let’s go find your dang tree, tiny liar.”

And with that, she trudged forward again—each step rumbling just a little louder than someone her height ought to be capable of—a squirrel navigator on her crown, and a patience much stronger than her already ridiculous frame.