Shopping with Yara Flor was a full-body workout disguised as a casual stroll through the mall—or, as she apparently saw it, a reconnaissance mission for a future battle. You had barely stepped through the entrance before she commandeered your arms, handing over half the bags she’d already filled, as if you were a personal pack mule.

“Careful,” she said, swiping a necklace off a display like it might be a weapon. “You’ll drop something.”

“I am the strong one here,” you replied, grunting under the weight of five armfuls of exotic fruit, glittering garments, and an oddly shaped decorative sword. “I carry the weight of both your shopping and my dignity.”

Yara snorted, clearly unimpressed. “Your dignity seems oddly flexible,” she said, flipping a silk scarf over her shoulder. “Not sure I’d trust it as far as I could throw it.”

You gave her a mock glare, muscles straining as another glittery box was shoved into your hands. “I’d like to see you do better under pressure, warrior.”

“Pressure?” she repeated, peering at you with one raised eyebrow. “You have no idea what pressure is. Try carrying a villager, fending off a pack of robotic wolves, and ordering these shoes all at once. THEN we can talk.”

You stumbled slightly, narrowly catching a bag before it could spill its contents across the polished floor. “I think I’m managing just fine,” you said, attempting a heroic stance that only resulted in you almost tipping backward.

Yara laughed, a sound that was equal parts amusement and admiration. She tossed you a tiny charm—something that glimmered like it had fallen from a treasure hoard—without breaking eye contact. “You’re doing well… for a mortal,” she said.

“‘For a mortal,’” you echoed, rolling the word around in your mouth like it was both a compliment and a threat. “I’ll take that.”

She shook her head, still grinning. “Honestly, I don’t know why I even carry this much stuff myself anymore. You’re better than half the enchanted beasts I’ve trained with.”

You struggled to keep your balance while lifting a particularly ridiculous pair of boots that seemed more ornamental than functional. “Clearly, my training has prepared me for everything. Mortals are resilient, Yara. That’s our superpower.”

“You keep telling yourself that,” she said, weaving gracefully through the racks, inspecting a display of vibrant cloaks as if each one could save a village or destroy a continent. “Meanwhile, I’m just over here trying to make sure you don’t collapse under the weight of my impeccable taste.”

“Impeccable, yes. But heavy. Very heavy,” you replied, muscles burning and arms trembling as she handed you another bag filled with gold-threaded fabrics and strangely shaped kitchenware.

She glanced back over her shoulder, eyes sparkling with amusement. “Admit it—you’re secretly loving this.”

“Secretly?” you said, mock-indignant. “I would never—”

But your protest was cut off by a sudden stumble when a bag of mangoes slipped from your grasp. Reflexively, you caught it midair, saving both the fruit and your pride.

Yara clapped lightly, clearly impressed. “See? I knew there was a reason to trust you with this mission. Mortal muscles and mortal wits. Who knew?”

You set the last bag down on the counter with a dramatic flourish, panting lightly, pretending to bow. “All in a day’s work,” you said.

She laughed, shaking her head, then handed you a small satchel with a wink. “Consider this your reward. You earned it. For a mortal, of course.”

“Ah, thank you,” you said, taking it with a dramatic sniff. “A token worthy of my legendary endurance.”

She smirked and shook her head. “Honestly, I’m impressed. You did better than most Amazons could manage in my shopping regime.”

You smiled, brushing a bead of sweat off your forehead, heart lightened by her teasing tone. “Well, every hero needs their day in the trenches. Today, it was the mall.”

“And tomorrow?” she asked, eyes glinting.

“Tomorrow,” you said, adjusting the strap of a bag that now felt slightly lighter “I rest. For now… I bask in the glory of survival."

Yeah. You really needed to.