She didn’t need any help getting up the path to the cave, which was probably for the best. I waited outside while she rummaged through my furs and made herself decent, and then we talked.

“How long did you sleep with her?”

We were definitely thinking of the same redhead. “It was a long time ago, and I didn’t really keep score, and are you even old enough for that conversation?”

She sighed and tried again. “Not like that, I mean sleep-as-in-sleep. How much time did you spend together, touching-but-not-that-way?”

“One night. Supposedly my last, although it wasn’t, quite.”

She looked confused, so I told her everything. Dine-and-dash, “tomorrow you die”, amazing sex (without the details), the state she left my kitchen in (with all the details, because that made her laugh, and for a moment she seemed as young as she looked), the three weeks of fuzzy memories, and finally waking up here with her on top of me, vanishing as soon as she finished.

“That bitch. I really hope I’m not her, because I’d hate to turn out to be someone that I’d turn out to hate being.”

As she curled up into a tight ball and began sobbing, I realized it wasn’t me she’d screamed at. I don’t even think she knew I was there until I reached out and lightly touched her shoulder. I’d never had much practice at comforting children, especially ones that looked exactly like a fresh, innocent, untouched, virginal, naked, budding, pure, stopstopstopstopstop.

I rebalanced my disappointed hormones and resolved to platonically comfort the little girl. It wasn’t easy, but by the time she looked up at me with startled, tear-filled eyes, it wasn’t hard, either.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m… I’m not hurt. I’m not there. And I’m not alone. I think that’s okay enough for now.”

She had the same voice, too.

“I’ve got a little food in my cave, and furs and hides that you can cover up with. It’s not much, but…”

Her eyes narrowed at the word cave, then widened at furs and hides. “Where the hell am I?!?”

“Beats me, kid; I was dumped here ten years ago by a woman who looked like a 20-year-old you, and I’ve been alone ever since.”

“Oh crap, her. I am not okay any more.”

I’d found a naked redhead where I expected to find a naked redhead, but it was the wrong one. This one was just old enough to be way too young, even for a guy who’d been alone for ten years. She was also asleep or unconscious, which allowed my firm disappointment to subside to the point that it wouldn’t scare her off.

I felt only mildly dirty as I looked her over. They had to be related: same lovely face, same shaggy mane of red hair, same delightful freckles everywhere I could see without risking a felony. For a wild moment I thought that it was her, fucking with me in a way that didn’t involve actually fucking with me.

Then she sat up and screamed. In fairness, I hadn’t exactly been keeping up with my grooming.

After a while, I’d given up waiting for her and started exploring more seriously. I hadn’t visited the cave in a few weeks, but fortunately nothing had moved in while I was gone. This trip, I’d followed a river to where it joined a bigger river, and then on to where it finally emptied into a lake. Great place for a settlement, I thought, but apparently nobody on this world agreed. If there was anybody on this world; after ten years, I had serious doubts. The fish were a nice change of diet, at least.

I’d like to think that I had a reason for coming back to the cave, but it was really just reflex. I always came back, just like I always checked out the rock she’d left me on.

Which for the first time since my arrival was occupied. From here, all I could see was white skin and red hair, but I broke my personal record for the Hundred Yard Frantic Scramble getting down there, all the while wondering whether I was more interested in wringing her neck or begging for sex. At least one part of me had already voted for the latter.

It wasn’t her. I’d come up with a lot of scenarios over the years, some naughty, some nice, some dark and bloody, but I’d never thought I’d find a different redhead.

Worse, she looked about twelve.

With only five months until DL-Day, my priorities were simple:

1. stay alive
2. find people
3. become hero
4. save world

Hoping that she’d return with something more than fantastic sex and terrible notes, I moved into an unoccupied cave with a good view of “our” rock and easy access to fresh water, collected some pointy sticks and sharp-ish rocks, and went looking for signs of civilization.

I quickly settled into a routine of picking a direction, walking as far as I could until midday, climbing a hill or tall tree, looking around for anything, and then returning home disappointed. And usually hungry. I ate pretty much anything I found, at least once, which is how I discovered that grilled beetles tasted a bit like bacon.

Oh, yes, I had invented fire. My sensei was big on perseverance, and it turns out that if you bang enough rocks together, eventually you’ll find the kind that make sparks.

Fire was good for more than cooking, of course. It kept me warm and uneaten at night, and was sure to attract attention from the locals eventually. All I had to do was get out there and find them.

I’d heard that bugs were a good source of protein. I’d never planned to test it, but the thing about paleo diets is that they’re the only option when you suddenly end up living paleo. My crazy redheaded kidnapper had dumped me in the middle of Outer Bumfuck Forest, completely naked and armed only with a post-it note.

What was it with this chick and notes, anyway?

This one was long on drama and short on details, but it covered the basics: Hero good, Demon Lord bad, five months until the big fight. Nothing about finding food, shelter, weapons, or pants.

With wilderness skills that would make a Cub Scout sneer, it was quite a while before I had basic survival covered and could focus on exploring my new world. And it definitely was a new world, because the first time the sky was clear at night, I discovered that the moon had a ring around it.

Which meant she wasn’t crazy, and I was dead. Back home, anyway; here, I was definitely alive, or I wouldn’t have been so cold and hungry.

She was gone in the morning, leaving only a note that said we’d meet again once I was safely dead, and a huge mess in the kitchen that said she was only vaguely acquainted with the concept of cooking.

Three weeks later, I’d almost forgotten about her. I mean, she was right about it having been the greatest night of my life, but the details just seemed to slip away, like I wasn’t supposed to remember her. No one else did.

So it came as a bit of a shock to wake up with her on top of me, with the action already in progress. It was some time before I noticed that we weren’t in my apartment. Or anywhere else familiar. Or even indoors. In fact, I was lying on a slab of rock in the middle of a forest, wearing nothing but a satisfied-looking redhead.

“Welcome back from the dead, hero! Ready to save the world?”

“Is that where I get to be on top?”

“Eventually. I brought you here so that you can get ready to defeat the Demon Lord and his army. Here, I wrote everything down.”

This time I saw her vanish. Couldn’t miss it, really, since we were still attached.

There is a great wisdom handed down across generations, from father to son, from brother to brother: never stick it in crazy. In this case, crazy was a natural redhead with the most lick-able freckles I’d ever seen, scattered across a very healthy figure.

“Are you planning to kill me with those?”

“Only metaphorically; I don’t know precisely how it happens, just that it’s certain, it’s tomorrow, and that if I choose, you’ll rise again to serve my needs.”

“That’s more of a double entendre than a metaphor.”

“Do you want to fuck me before you die, or not?”

I stuck it in crazy. I lost count of how many times I rose to serve her needs.