Chapter 363: Disguise

After running nonstop for half an hour, Hoffa and Miranda finally stopped, panting heavily. The rain had intensified slightly, and Miranda pulled Hoffa by the wrist toward a cliff under which they could take shelter.

A small stream ran through the valley, with large, scattered boulders lining its banks.

Seeing that no one was pursuing them, Miranda let out a sigh and sat down on one of the boulders by the stream. Her shoes were soaked from walking in the rain for too long, making her uncomfortable. She took off her shoes and socks, dipping her bare feet into the cool water while shaking out the small stones and accumulated rainwater from her boots.

After emptying her boots, she waved Hoffa over.

"Come here. Let me see."

"See what?"

"Your face."

Hoffa bent down as he approached. Miranda touched the whip mark on his face and cursed, "That old bastard doesn't hold back, does he?"

"You know him?" Hoffa asked, curious.

"Nope," Miranda replied lazily, pushing Hoffa away. "These Brits all look the same—no distinguishing features."

Hoffa wanted to retort, Aren't you a Brit yourself? But the moment he thought that, his head started aching, so he quickly shifted his focus. His gaze landed on Miranda's feet, submerged in the water. Her feet were pale and slender, her ankle well-defined, veins faintly visible beneath the skin. Her toes, slightly reddened from constant walking, tapered delicately, making them rather pleasing to the eye.

Huh, interesting… My headache's gone.

After cursing the shepherd, Miranda turned her attention back to scolding Hoffa.

"You were too reckless," she complained. "That guy was obviously speaking in code, expecting a secret phrase in response. And what did you do? Just answered randomly. Now look what happened—we got thrown out at first glance. Getting back in won't be easy."

"Uh…"

Hoffa watched her feet ripple in the water and said, "Do we really have to go through him? Can't we find another way?"

"Go ahead and try," Miranda scoffed. "Hogsmeade isn't that big, and the Hog's Head is even smaller. Who knows if someone will spot you sneaking in?"

"Then what do you suggest?"

"Disguise ourselves."

"How?"

"Simple—you stop being human."

Miranda smirked as she leaned back on the rock. "That old geezer said he remembered your face, right? Well, you don't have much of a recognizable face to begin with. So just go in disguised as a monkey."

"Oh yeah? Sounds great. And what about you? Gonna be a mother gorilla?" Hoffa quipped without thinking.

SPLASH!

Water splattered across Hoffa's face as Miranda kicked up a splash at him. He quickly wiped the water away, stepping back.

"Never seen feet before?" Miranda raised an eyebrow, crossing her legs and dangling a shoe from her fingers. "You've been staring at them this whole time."

Hoffa eyed the water droplets sliding off her toes, nodded, and admitted, "I never noticed before, but they really are quite nice."

Thud!

Thud!

He dodged two shoes hurled at him.

Miranda, now barefoot, kicked at the muddy ground, darkening her toes with dirt. She sneered, "How about now? Still think they're nice?"

Hoffa wisely chose to stay silent.

"Come on, let's find some materials for a disguise," Miranda said, standing up. "I'd rather that old geezer not recognize us again."

Hoffa picked up the discarded shoes and asked, "Aren't you going to wear these?"

"If you like them so much, you can keep looking," she shot back sarcastically.

With that, she strolled barefoot across the ground. Hoffa had no idea what she was up to but followed along. Soon, she reached the woods and began gathering leaves and vines. She even roped Hoffa into carrying them, stuffing every collected piece into his arms like he was her personal pack mule. Before long, he was holding a pile as tall as himself.

But Miranda wasn't satisfied. Spotting more vines hanging from a tall ash tree, she realized she couldn't reach them and called Hoffa over.

"Come here."

Still holding the massive bundle of vines, Hoffa walked over.

Miranda pointed up. "Give me a boost—I can't reach."

"Why do you need so many vines?" Hoffa asked gruffly.

"For your disguise, obviously," Miranda answered matter-of-factly. "Now hurry up, stop stalling."

Hoffa glanced at her feet, now smeared with moss and dirt, and muttered, "You're doing this on purpose."

Miranda chuckled, but only for a second before putting on a serious face. "How could it be on purpose? Or would you prefer I step on your shoulders with my boots? The soles are pretty hard, you know."

Grinding his teeth, Hoffa ultimately caved. He set down the vines and crouched. Miranda swiftly climbed onto his shoulders, using his head for balance.

"Hold me steady—I don't want to fall," she instructed.

Hoffa sighed and grabbed her ankles, slowly standing up. Miranda reached for the vines, but Hoffa's gaze involuntarily drifted to the feet resting on his shoulders. Then, he glanced upward at Miranda.

Something about this position felt… off.

Sensing his movement, Miranda reacted instantly. She kicked him in the face with her ankle.

"Eyes forward!"

Hoffa, now with mud smudged across his face, frowned. He was starting to feel like Miranda was deliberately messing with him. There were vines everywhere—why did she have to pick this exact tree?

Upon thinking it through, he decided to give Miranda a little scare.

Miranda had just finished gathering the vines and was about to climb down when Hoffa suddenly shrugged his shoulders and loosened his grip. Miranda let out a sharp scream, lost her balance, and nearly fell off his shoulders.

"Are you insane, Hoffa?"

She barely managed to steady herself and angrily scolded him from atop his shoulders.

"Haha." Hoffa felt a long-lost sense of joy and shook even more vigorously.

"Ah! You're going to die!"

Furious, Miranda stomped on Hoffa.

But that single stomp completely threw her off balance, and she fell downward.

Hoffa had only meant to scare her, not actually make her fall. Seeing that she was really about to drop, he quickly reached out to catch her. However, in doing so, he lost his own balance, causing Miranda to land squarely on his shoulders before sliding down onto his chest. The force of gravity and momentum sent them both crashing to the ground.

With Miranda sitting heavily on his chest, Hoffa momentarily lost his breath. By the time he caught it again, he saw Miranda still straddling his chest, staring at him in a daze.

For some reason, Hoffa had a strange sense of déjà vu from this angle. The familiarity of the moment sent a sharp pain through his brain, as if something deep within his mind was forcefully trying to break free. His nose bled instantly from the pressure, and he lay there, eyes watering from the sheer pain.

Seeing the fresh blood trickling from Hoffa's nose, Miranda's expression changed. She quickly leaned over him and wiped away the blood with her hand.

"What's wrong? A headache again?"

She asked with concern.

The pain was sharp but fleeting, unlike the usual persistent headaches he experienced. Hoffa didn't dare push his luck any further. He quickly got up from the ground and said, "No, maybe you just crushed me. You're too heavy."

As soon as the words left his mouth, he reached out to help Miranda up. But his remark immediately enraged her. She slapped his hand away, huffed coldly, and stood up by herself. Then, she stuffed all the vines she had gathered into his arms.

Once they finished gathering the leaves, they returned to the stream. Miranda started a fire and began weaving the vines together. At first, Hoffa had no idea what she was doing. But as the vines gradually took shape, he realized that she was actually making a set of clothing—complete with a headpiece, a top, and a skirt. It looked just like the kind of outfit worn by actors playing primitive people in stage plays.

She made two outfits in total—one primarily woven from vines, and the other mostly made from leaves, resembling dense bird feathers.

Hoffa couldn't help but exclaim, "How are you so skilled at this?"

"If you live long enough, you naturally pick up all sorts of strange skills," Miranda replied coolly. "Now, close your eyes."

"What?"

"Close your eyes, I'm changing."

Miranda stated matter-of-factly.

Hoffa was taken aback. He glanced around. "Here??"

Without another word, Miranda plopped a headpiece made of fresh green leaves onto Hoffa's head. "You talk too much. Just close them already."

With that, she turned toward the fire, took off her jacket, and revealed the undergarments beneath. Through the gaps in the leaves, Hoffa caught a glimpse of her slender figure by the fire and hastily shut his eyes.

A moment later, the leafy headpiece was removed from his head.

"Okay, open your eyes," Miranda said.

Hoffa opened them—and immediately sucked in a breath of cold air.

Miranda had completely removed the street-style outfit she had worn in London and changed into the vine-and-leaf outfit she had just made. At that moment, most of her body was exposed to the air—her thighs, arms, stomach, and neck. She looked like a model sent to the runway by some overly eccentric avant-garde designer.

"Does it look good?" she asked.

Hoffa was stunned for a long moment before responding, "Aren't you cold?"

"It's fine," Miranda said nonchalantly. "As long as I can blend in, being cold for a little while doesn't matter."

As she spoke, she grabbed a handful of leaves and randomly stuck them in her hair. But she didn't stop there. She also collected some ochre-colored stones from the stream, ground them against a smooth river rock, and used the resulting red powder to paint her face.

By the time she was done, she had successfully transformed from an ordinary city girl in jeans and a leather jacket into something resembling a female Tarzan who had lived in the jungle for twenty years.

"You're seriously planning to disguise yourself as an ape?" Hoffa muttered.

"You have no sense of culture. This is Celtic," Miranda said as she painted strange ochre markings on her body. "Those people won't recognize me, and they might even welcome me."

"Yeah, sure."

Hoffa thought to himself that this level of disguise was beyond words.

Not long after, Miranda's exposed skin was covered in bizarre markings. She tossed the other leaf-based outfit to Hoffa and said, "Your turn."

Hoffa looked down at the pile of leaves in his hands, then back at what Miranda was wearing. He couldn't help but wonder how she could act so completely at ease in such an outfit. If he had to walk around in something like this, he'd probably want to dig himself a hole and live in it forever.

"Hurry up. We need to get this done before dark," Miranda urged, glancing up at the dim sky with a hint of impatience.

Hoffa gritted his teeth, stood up, and said, "Then don't look."

"Nobody wants to," Miranda retorted, hopping onto a large river stone and turning her back to him, gazing into the distance.

Hoffa reluctantly stripped off his clothes and put on the leafy outfit Miranda had given him. Before long, he had turned into a humanoid bush wrapped in greenery, blending seamlessly into the surroundings.

"I'm ready," Hoffa announced.

The drizzle in the sky had stopped, and the dark clouds slowly parted, revealing the moonlight hidden behind them. Miranda turned around and jumped down from the rock. In the moonlight, her pale skin seemed to glow, and the ochre markings on her body gave her an inexplicable air of mystery and wildness.

She looked at the leaf-clad figure before her and said, "From now on, you're not allowed to speak. Leave everything to me. Understood?"

Hoffa asked, "Why?"

"No questions either—if you really want to see magic," Miranda said solemnly.

(End of Chapter)

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