by James Hunt
Suddenly Kelria became very self conscious of her appearance. She must have looked so pathetic and beggarly. She hoped she hadn't offended the woman, but what was done was done. The cloak was shed, and she approached the bucket cautiously. Unsure of her footing in the tree tent, she found she could cause items inside to shake and wobble if she didn't get her balance right. The bucket wasn't that far away in the small space. She took the clean white cloth and soaked it, it was cool to the touch and smelled crisp and clear. As she wiped her arms, the effect was amazing as all the dirt, grime, and dried blood wiped away easily. The cloth rinsed clean in the bucket and each wipe was as clean as the last. Her face seemed to hold the worst of it. It felt so good on her skin, and seemed to revitalize her. Perhaps it was just the relief of being safely among her own people again, but she suspected there was some magic involved in this. Finally she washed away the Hekarim soil lingering between her legs. It brought a twinge of anger, and all the old hatreds she had been raised with suddenly came to the surface. For Niyana's sake, and her own survival, she had tucked them away when they had been caught. But for now she allowed herself a moment of hate. Her imagination wandered to what it would be like to serve in a unit such as this, to work at hunting Zecarins, the real enemy, instead of rogue Lunarians. She would willingly suffer more unpleasantries if it meant slitting a few dark skinned necks in repayment.
Her cloth finished the back of her neck and returned to the bucket. A soft cough behind her startled her, and she looked behind her to see Kalek's back to her. Lost to her thoughts, she hadn't noticed his entrance. Yet considering the stealth with which Iala left, she wouldn't have unless she was watching the front. Kalek turned his head, and she could see the bandana that blindfolded him. He was intent on protecting her modesty while in his care. It was an endearing sentiment, and she smiled.
"My lord," Kelria spoke softly. "Could you assist me a moment? Iala gave instruction that I should wash to help remove the dirt from my travels, and I cannot reach my back."
"As my lady wishes," he replied in a kind tone. With natural grace he turned around and approached. She could see a brief slow hesitation in his step; apparently there were limits to his blindfolded motion. Kelria handed him the cloth and moved the bucket behind her. She sat cross legged and unfastened her ponytail as the first cool swath of the cloth touched her back. Her long brown hair was pulled over her shoulder to give him access to the back of her neck.
Kalek was regrettably efficient at the task. She secretly wished he would continue solely for the feel of a fellow elf's kind hands on her. It was a surprise to feel his fingers on her shoulders, which pulled her out of her daydream. Kalek claimed her hair and pulled it straight down her back, causing Kelria to sit up straight. He washed her hair with the cloth, taking gentle care as he guided the mass of it to drain over the bucket. His touch sent a cool soothing shiver down her spine, that despite herself caused an appreciative sigh. She had never been taken care of before like this, and certainly not by a handsome knight with such grace and manners. She felt she didn't deserve it.
Something pulled on her hair that wasn't the wash cloth. It took her a moment to recognize the familiar pull of a comb through her damp hair. This too was a welcomed simple pleasure.
"You don't have to do that my lord," She replied meekly. A twinge of guilt had started to take over now. She should be the one attending to their needs, as befit her station, not the other way around. "I can do that."
"I insist," He replied. "We have some matters to discuss. So please relax as I speak." Kelria let the tension drop in her shoulders and closed her eyes.
"As my lord wishes," She replied in a kind tone.
"Your body is not suitable for life out here. We operate differently than the prison troupe you were assigned with. Fear not, no one here will accost you because of your mark. We believe the Yvarna have a right to redemption, as has always been, and not to simply be exiled as the king decreed. You see, although we are not in defiance of our King's wishes, we maintain the old ways while out here. In Lunar, however... we do as we must." Kalek dropped that point, and Kelria felt it wise not to push the topic. She was grateful none the less. "May I ask what you did within your patrol?"
"I was the packmaster. I kept our supplies organized." Kelria said.
"Did you fight? Can you use a bow?"
"No, I don't know how." Kelria said. There was no shame in her voice, she was proud of her pacifistic lifestyle.
"We have no need of a packmaster here." Kalek continued as he worked her hair straight with the comb. "We work in two person units. Each unit is responsible for their own gear and supplies, as we share them and our tent. Iala and I were one of these units. You and I will now become one, as I am responsible for you until we can escort you home."
A lump crept up her throat. She had separated these two and now suspected that her savior may soon regret having someone as helpless as her among them. There was no way she could keep pace with the leaf knights!
"I am sorry to have burdened you with my safety, my lord." There was the slightest hint of sorrow in her voice, and it made Kalek pause in his work. A silence grew between them that soon became uncomfortable for Kelria.
"I look forward to training you, so that you are not a burden." Kalek replied after some thought. Kelria realized he had once again dodged her meek groveling with a courteous response. "I sincerely think it may very well be your path to redemption from the Yvarna." His words were too perfectly chosen. Kelria's shoulders visible sank from such kind sentiment. She cried to herself. All her efforts to keep the emotions contained for a bit longer came undone. Kelria wiped her eyes with the back of her hand.
"Is armsmanship part of the training?" She asked. Kalek picked up a bundle of her hair and continued to comb it out straight. He thought for awhile before speaking.
"Only if you wish it to be," He said. "But as a unit, if one partner does not fight, the other must fight in their stead. They cannot alternate patrols – as Iala and I do. She is going out now, as I retire." Kalek did not explain any further than that, and Kelria did not miss the hidden implication – she would not be sleeping alone in their shared tent. If they were active at the same time, then they must rest at the same time.
"I understand," She nodded. Kalek finished combing her hair and returned the comb to a sack against the wall of their tent. Kelria pulled her hair back over her shoulder and started to run her fingers through it. It was silky smooth; somehow he had gotten her natural wavy curl to straighten.
"Are you hungry?" He asked and pulled some grained bread from a satchel with a shoulder strap and offered it to her. Kelria took it graciously and bit into it. It was delicious, and suddenly she realized she hadn't eaten much in the last day and a half, and devoured the rest. She realized then that she had turned to face him, which brought up an uncomfortable question in her mind about her lack of clothing. If they were to share this space she would need to acquire some or he would get a lot of practice blind walking. "We gather fruits, nuts, berries - anything you see in wild. On occasion we'll trade with passing merchants for supplies and food that will keep. No meat, it attracts animals and unwanted attention."
"I'm familiar with many edible plants." Kelria brightened. They had discovered something she could assist with. "Um, what can I do to get some new clothes?"
Kalek couldn't restrain the smirk. It melted her heart to see that look on his handsome cheeks. She thought it a shame that he didn't do it more often. Or that she couldn't see the expression in his eyes because of the blindfold. A hint of mischief crept to mind, but she pushed it back down and maintained their dignified relation.
"I will ask our cleric if he can make something to suit your needs." Kalek said at last. "He sleeps with our cycle, and most likely has already retired. In the morning I will see it done."
"A cleric? Out here?" Kelria almost blurted out. All kinds of uncertain feelings rushed to her cheeks making them flush, and her stomach knotted up at the same time. Clerics
were the holy servants of the Lunarians, and the most important civil figure. They birthed children, performed marriages, taught magic, settled disputes as judge, and bestowed the Yvarna.
Kalek smirked again, and the blush crept up to Kelria's ears.
"He manages quite well for such an old codger." Kalek jested. "He is my father."
"Oh," Kelria replied like a doe-eyed maiden. The bashful moment was rudely intruded by a dark thought – things were going too well. She was not the innocent girl anymore, the death and horror she had witnessed had hardened her. It would not be forgotten so easily, nor suppressed without a fight simply on the grounds that she had been saved by the most perfect male Lunarian she could imagine. That cynical, suspicious nature resurface forcefully - suddenly Kalek was too good to be true, and he was suspect.
"What of my friend? Will you look for her?" She asked.
"Iala will." Kalek said. "Please forgive me, but I suspect we could both use a good rest." Kalek suggested. "Since we cannot get you suitable clothing this night, please use my cloak for now as a blanket." He turned to put his back to her and started to unfasten his hardened leather pads and tunic. So many questions were still unanswered, but she couldn't ask them, she could only stare dreamily at his long black hair and broad shoulders as he unclothed. When his bare back came into view, it startled her out of her daydream. Kelria quickly reclaimed the cloak and pulled it up to cover herself as she lay down on half of the floor. These tents were not so different from others – they were just hung up in trees, she reminded herself as she started to settle in to sleep under the cloak.
With her back to him, she could only hear the shuffling of clothes before she determined he had lay down beside her on his half of the floor. Something tapped her head slightly.
"Use this for a pillow if you like," Kalek said. Kelria looked up to see his rolled up tunic above her head. It was soft enough to support her head, and smelled alluringly like tall pine trees. Kalek lay on his stomach with his head in his arms. Kelria was treated to a good look at the chiseled muscles of his lithe back. Quickly she laid her head down and looked away before her inner torment grew any worse...
****
The darkness of night had not stilled their union. Niyana came to truly appreciate the Shaman's honesty – he had warned her that Furrels mated for a day, and that their pairing would be difficult, but her impish curiosity would not be daunted. Not long into their slow rhythmic lovemaking did she experience her first release, and thus the monster inside had finally been paid its due, to quiet it for a few more days. Many more orgasmic releases came after it, but her bestial lover showed no sign of stopping – and hadn't himself released yet.
The faint glow of dawn crept in from the cracks in the mud walls of their barrow. Niyana did not know for how long they had been joined, and was far from caring at the moment. Dawn came unnoticed by both lovers whom were trapped by the spell of Furrel mating.
Niyana's breath suddenly caught in her throat as a ripple of spastic pleasure shot through her body. Her legs quivered and her breath released in ripples of half-moans. It broke the spell only for a moment to give her time to wonder what the count was, but she had had too many ecstatic releases throughout the night to remember. Her lucidity didn't have long before the sensation of her lover's long, meaty cock sliding against her craven inner flesh lulled her back into a sense of placidity. All she could focus on was the slow, lulling, rhythm with which she experienced Kaneth's engorged member inside her.
At some time during the night, she had thought she had reached her limit. She wanted to stop and tried to communicate that to her lover. But each attempt to reposition, or to pull away from him was denied by his firm hands on her shoulders keeping her still. The worst of it happened when she fought back against even that, and his low throaty growl against her ear ended her struggling. At that moment she had wanted him so badly to lick her flesh, to fondle her breasts even just a little - just some fashion of affection or foreplay that would intensify her arousal. But the Shaman was lost to the spell of their lovemaking just as she was. Any reemergence of the elf warrior-woman's aggressive side was quickly growled into submission under her powerful lover's care. If she struggled too much, he let his claws dig a little harder into her shoulders. After too long, even that small amount of pain became pleasurable, and she purposely invoked his anger just for the little attention she received through them. Yet even that only lasted an hour or two.
Niyana was through resisting or trying to influence him to better cater to her needs. By dawn's arrival, her subconscious desires had learned to submit to his will and in due time she would be rewarded with another release. That resolve had not left her disappointed.
Some time in the early morning a subtle shift in her lover's speed broke the pace, and with it the spell over her. She became aware of the burn of her oversexed womanhood and the drugged euphoria that caused it. Her heavy breath turned to half-pained whimpers with each aching stroke. Two powerful arms thudded into the ground besides her head as her lover changed position – his legs lifted his torso forward as his hips started a frantic pace that could only mean his impending release.
Niyana started to scream from the delirious pleasure his cock stirred inside her painfully aching womanhood. She wanted him to cum inside her; she wanted to feel that last explosion of hot passion inside her body before long. She couldn't take any more at this feverish pace and she wanted it to end for her own relief as well as the perverse curiosity of what he would feel like inside her. That illicit thought brought a sudden flush to her sweaty cheeks and ears as well as the hard-fucked pussy between her legs.
Kaneth's humid panting against her hot skin told of his peaking pleasure. Between his forceful thrusts and hot grunts she thought she might break in half if he didn't cum soon. She bit down hard on what remained on the soggy, chewed leather strap and let him carry her into her next body wracking orgasm. This one caused an involuntary tremor in her womanhood, causing her sex to reflexively grab his cock after one forceful push in. The Furrel threw his head back and howled as his hot seed spewed forth and coated her aching sex. It carried Niyana's own orgasm further – She followed his lead and threw her head back in a bestial scream as her body was milked of one more orgasm. Her muscles quaked under the force of each hot spurt inside her. Her breath caught in her throat, and with each hot splatter against her sensitive flesh she trembled.
An impressive weight fell atop her – her lover had exhausted himself to fainting His warm muzzle wheezed shallow hot breath against that back of her neck. Niyana was in no condition to struggle out from under. Consciousness was an unaffordable luxury – so she allowed the living fur blanket to keep her warm as an exhaustive sleep claimed her as well...
*****
Trent was used to the stares - that leery vigilance towards strangers. Hornsdale was not so far into its successful and raider free year to have grown lax in their suspicion of visitors. As he looked around, he met the scrutinizing gaze of someone that carried himself like a soldier; he gave them a courteous nod. It was immediately returned, and the silent, unspoken brotherhood of men that had defended their homes from the barbaric wilds welcomed a visitor amongst them. It wasn't because of the spear leaning on his shoulder, the beaten travel leathers he wore, or his guarded charge - a robed girl with eyes wilder than a marsh hare on midnight mushrooms; it was because he gave them respect. And no one that did not understand what they fought for and sacrificed for, would know to do that. Out here in the wild lands, far out of the reach of the king's short arms, villages had to fend for themselves.
The market street was full of traders from other villages as well as local town-shed farmers conducting business. Herbs, pitch and tar, livestock, and the occasional handcrafted ware all traded hands to the clinking of copper and silver coins. Trent paused and surveyed the busy town square for a moment – there were watchmen walking amongst the crowd with long staffs ready to break up disputes or capture thieves. They watched Trent, sizing up h
is travel attire of rough, leather patched trousers, heavy boots, and dense leather vest, as much as Trent measured them in their cotton tunic uniforms – a soft material that was flexible but offered little protection. These men were just the eyes and ears, the heavy hitters of the town guard could not be seen. Trent took a second look at some of the locals that lingered their gaze on him too long – heavy, corded muscles, sharp eyes. There they were; the townspeople were the town guards.
The buildings surrounding the square were stone founded, pine framed, and plaster walled. They had lasted long enough for a bit of mold to grow on the founding stones, and the plaster to turn mottled from rains. However none of them were very tall at a modest three stories at most, a sign Trent knew to mean the original builders didn't expect them to last long.
"Problems?" His companion asked and nudged him in the ribs, breaking him out of his daydream.
"They've got a good wall." He said without turning to look at her. "Let's sign in." The marketplace inn would be expensive, but the more prosperous traders would be staying there. It was the best place to learn names and goings on. The Father had given him a small treasury for this trip – plenty enough to live and eat like kings for a week, but just barely enough to buy a handful of secrets from tight lips. Trent spied the inn in the distance above the heads of the traders. The building itself blending in with all the other's around it, only the sign hanging outside depicting a stein and a bed marked it for what it was. They made their way there.
