Now he remembers why he wanted to get clothes so badly.

More importantly, why is this naked girl just standing here in front of a naked guy? She definitely has to be a G.I.R.L. Only a guy in real life would ever so brazenly stand about naked. Or she's just a pervert. Or dumb.

Fenrir tilts his head in confusion. Not only does he behave like a dog when getting petted or rubbed, but apparently shows canid signs of confusion as well. The girl mimics his tilting head and raises her hands to make some odd signs. What, is she trying to copy some sort of old-school ninja anime? Is she going to suddenly create dozens of clones of herself or disappear into a puff of smoke with a log taking her place?

No, she just stands there and looks frustrated with herself.

"Is uhh, everything alright?" Fenrir asks.

The girl's eyes go wide before she looks away. What's with her? Odd girl.

She takes a deep breath and looks back at him. "My… voice, does it sound… weird?" she asks, looking directly into his eyes with a brave expression. He gets the feeling that it's, for whatever reason, taking her a good deal of courage to actually speak.

It does sound weird, though. It sounds as if she's not used to talking nor properly p.r.o.nouncing things, but at the same time, it's adorable in an innocent way. "It sounds cute, why?" Fenrir replies.

The girl's eyes flutter for a second as her face turns red. Now it seems like she's the one who's embarra.s.sed as she's turning around to hide her face. "Do – do you really mean that? It's cute?" she asks for confirmation.

"Yeah, it's cute. I'd give it a solid ten out of ten, but my friends say I have horrible taste, so take that however you will." Of course, his friends really just mean that he has horrible taste in shows and music. Even they can agree he has a good taste in waifus, though they would never admit it.

Seeing that this girl is more nervous and fl.u.s.tered around him than he is around her makes this conversation easier. He doesn't know what he would do if she had more confidence than him. "You uhh, know that you're naked, right?"

Fenrir watches the girl's entire body freeze from his question.

She dives into the nearest bush and only sticks her head out of it, letting him see how she's red from her chin to the tips of her ears. Her hands stick out from the bush to make a few very angry hand signs, but nothing happens again. She realizes what she's doing, makes a cute little disgruntled sound, and stares up at Fenrir. "I… I knew that."

Fenrir makes the kind of face that somebody in a sitcom about offices would make as they look into the camera.

"Just stay there for now. I'll find you something to wear, alright?"

She nods her head, but just as she starts to de-reddify her face, her stomach grumbles which makes her completely pull herself into the bush as if she is a turtle hiding in its sh.e.l.l.

"I'll feed you first," Fenrir says.

Alright, time to cook! Cooking is only natural after fis.h.i.+ng. First, he gathers all of the large rocks lying around to make a pit for the fire. He also clears out anything flammable around the pit to instead place it inside of the pit. If this world is as realistic as it truly seems to be, he doesn't doubt that a forest fire could get started if he isn't careful here.

The girl has since poked her head back out of the bush to watch as he prepares the firepit. Though, sometimes when he looks back at her, he sees her looking at him instead of what he's doing. This just makes them both blush and avert their eyes.

With the firepit built and filled with dried twigs and leaves, he takes a handful of the tinder and sets it aside as he finds some good enough wood to use for starting the fire. The only method he can fully remember how to do is the hand drill method, which unfortunately is also supposed to be the most difficult primal method. He uses the same jagged rock as he used earlier to carve a little knock into the flattest piece of wood he could find, takes a long and thin yet st.u.r.dy stick, and begins rubbing one end of it down into the knock. He has the top of the stick held between his straightened palms. While applying downward pressure, he rubs his hands back and forth to create friction between the stick and the flat wood below.

Nothing happens for several minutes other than some cramping in his hands. "This is harder than it looked. Now I know why those survivalist vloggers say to never use this method unless there's no other choice," Fenrir complains as he keeps at it. He hears a cute giggle come from the girl behind him. As much as he's tempted to tease her about it, he's worried he won't get to hear it again if he does.

Fenrir begins feeling like it's hopeless. Smoke has risen a few times, but it never lasts long enough to create a fire. That is, until he finally succeeds in creating a lump of hot coal! That same satisfying feeling of accomplishment can be felt again. The game may not have any popups, but that feeling of accomplis.h.i.+ng something is addictive.

He takes the coal, places it in the bundle of kindle that he set aside, and begins blowing into it to try and get the fire started. Success! Maybe a bit too much of a success. The kindle lights up much faster than he thought he would, so he burns his hand a bit when he picks it up to set it on top of the fire pit. A few more branches and leaves are then placed on top of the flame, and before long, the firepit has a crackling fire within it!

Looking back at the girl with a smug smile, she replies with an impressed look and a gentle clap.

Her stomach grumbles again.

"Tell your stomach to be patient. I'm working on it," Fenrir says, taking the dead fish, his spear, and impaling the fish on it lengthways. He's careful to not let the end of the spear held together by his hair anywhere near the fire.

After the fish is securely skewered on the spear, he places it directly above the fire to let it cook. He can already see the scales turning black from the fire. "Alright, while this is cooking, I'll try figuring out something to do about clothes. Stay here, alright?"

She nods her head and waits in the bush, hungry eyes staring at the fish as a single strand of drool hangs from her lips.

Fenrir leaves the fire in her care and ventures back into the dense forest. He trusts that she's not going to run off with his spear and fish, but it wouldn't be the first, second, nor third time that his trust has been betrayed.

Bonekraka and Oleander would probably be yelling at him right now if they saw him trusting another noob that he doesn't know. He's gotten into trouble many times over that.

An idea pops into his head when he sees a particularly thick tree with bark shedding off of it. He looks at his hair. While he would rather not cut off all of the hair that he's given his avatar, it may be the best way to help the clothing problem. A sigh of defeat leaves his lips.

The fish is ready to be flipped over once he returns. He flips it over after setting down several large chunks of bark that he was able to peel off from trees. Turns out that having slightly elongated nails is a good thing. They may not be wolf claws, but they are longer and st.u.r.dier than regular nails. He doesn't even remember paying any attention to the nails during character creation.

He takes two slabs of bark and makes small holes in the top corners of them with his trusty rock. Then, he cuts off more hair to loop through the holes and tie the bark together. He leaves just enough room between them for him to fit his head through, letting the bark hang down over his chest and back. This time, he gets to immediately test out doing the same task again after getting that feeling of improving a skill. He may have gotten a skill--at least, that's what he believes that feeling means--in regard to making armor out of wood and hair, but the end result is hardly any different. The holes made in the bark are slightly neater, and the hair is tied a bit more securely. That's it.

"This one is yours," Fenrir says, setting the torso armor on the ground next to the firepit. The girl makes grabby hands from the bush. "Hang on, let me make you something for your waist first. I'll bring them over to you when I'm done," he explains, turning the fish again before getting started on more armor.

This time, he takes four slabs of bark, pokes two holes into each one, and loops his hair through them. He tests out the hair's durability by lifting it up and hanging all the bark down. To his surprise, there doesn't seem to be even a bit of strain on the hair. Hair is way more durable than he thought, a.s.suming that the game isn't playing up its durability.

"Here. Wrap it around your waist and tie the ends together. It should give you enough protection to not really show anything," Fenrir explains.

She looks at the slabs of bark that he gathered and sees how he gave her all of the larger ones. With a smile and a soft blush, she nods her head and makes grabby hands again.

He hands over the armor that he's made for her and listens to the rustling going on within the bush as she struggles to put everything on without showing herself.

A few moments later and he feels a soft poke on his shoulder. He turns around to look.

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Before him stands the same pet.i.te girl from before, but now wearing comically oversized chunks of bark for armor. The armor around her waist covers her perfectly, though. One slab of bark in front of her and behind her, and the other two hang down over the sides of her hips. "How – how does it look?" she asks.

He has to turn around to not laugh from just how silly she looks. At least now he can't see anything above her knees up until her shoulders. "Looks good," he answers. The only thing keeping him from laughing is the satisfaction that he feels from making something that works and seeing somebody else wearing it. First the spear, now some armor! Though, he probably should have given her the smaller set. While hers is oversized, his is clearly undersized. He's barely covered in comparison to her. Much care will be needed to not accidentally flash her nor anybody else.