It's no good. You know you need to harvest some water, catch a bug or two for food, but Tara Reed James just keeps invading your thoughts. The way the two of you parted, her final words to you... What if she never comes back? What if you die during your tiny survival and she never knows?
You can't let things end this way.
You stump away from the steam, across the vast expanse of the clearing as night falls. Patches of grass wave upwards between stretches of crushed waste, the casual devastation of Tara's boot strides. You follow these irregularly-spaced areas, toward the mountain that is the woman's tent.
A simple zipped-closed opening is no barrier to a man of your 3/8" height. You duck under and then gasp as you find Tara waiting right on the other side, facing you.
Guiltily, you stumble backward against the thick fabric wall, your eyes trvaelling up Tara's boots as your jaw drops. But at the ankle, the sight ceases. Your gasp becomes a laugh; these are just the woman's empty boots, set by the tent door!
Cautiously, you sidle around the humungous footwear to inspect the rest of the vast domicile. Tara's sleeping bag bulges with her beyond-Amazonian form, rising and falling with her breaths. Rather than snore, she breathes in and out rather calmly, but the sheer size of those breaths, and the echoing power of her tent, booms the noises around like a growling beast.
There is light here; it seems the woman fell asleep in the middle of something. One huge hand lies on its back across the floor, in a pool of light next to a discarded pen and her journal.
Ooh, isn't that interesting? The book lies open, and this is a chance to check out Tara's note-making, see what she wrote. Not just about nature... but about you. You should even be able to turn the pages with a little effort to see previous entries.
Of course, it could be a little problematic should the giantess awaken and catch you reading her private notes! Instead, you could approach the face of your companion, and do your best to apologise for your harsh words, make up a little...
That is a big face, though. Proper intimidating. Perhaps... Perhaps you could just go for Tara's hand, sit there and wait for her to awaken and see you in her palm again. A little distance may make conversation easier.
That's still putting your life - this time literally - in her hands. You were so bold when you struck out on this journey, but seeing your target here now, helpless in sleep yet still possessed of the strength of a god, you balk at speaking up for yourself. You could just... write a note in her journal? A message from your heart, written without her immense eyes drilling into your soul?
Backing off further, you could just lurk near the entrance by those boots, hoping that such humility means she can't suspect you of anything but pure intentions in being here. When she comes to boot-up, she'll see you and you can both say what's truly in your hearts.
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