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Like it was common in the wolf tribe, in the months before the coming-of-age ceremony, Torim was sent on a spirit journey.

Clothed in nothing but his natural fur and equipped with nothing but his own fangs, he had been sent into the wilderness, to learn the true secrets of his tribe. To commute with the spirits. To survive from nothing but what nature provided to him directly.

It would have been shameful to return in less than three days. But usually the boys and girls all came back after less than a week. Having eaten nothing but plants, or sometimes little critters they had succeeded in hunting, more often than not they were pretty hungry.

Torim, came third day, was hungry too and found some funny looking mushrooms. The old shaman had warned of eating mushrooms he didn't know, but Torim knew better. After all this was going to be his coming of age ceremony. He was no longer a little kid. He could do whatever he wanted!

Right?

Half an hour later, he had a stomach ache. It got worse and worse, until he barfed out everything he had eaten. He felt dizzy and sweaty. At first he thought puking his meal out had fixed it. The stomach pain receded into a dull ache. But then he was suddenly overcome with the mother of all headaches. He barely managed to drag himself into the shadow of a large tree, shielding his eyes from the burning sun that made his head throb all the more. Then he fell into a feverish sleep.

At first his halluzinations made little sense. Pain loaded colors, screaming dizzyness. He felt miserable even asleep.

But then there was suddenly a voice. A voice that wasn't his own. He didn't know at that point, but Torim was doing what few in his generation had managed. He actually 'commuted with the spirits'.

It was next morning, when he finally woke up again. The vision he had had, was now a dim memory, a blur. He remembered faces and voices, but he couldn't remember what they had said. He felt miserable and weak. And he would have considered his vision the figment of a fever dream, had he been alone.

But he wasn't alone. There was a deer there. A feral one. A doe. She stood over him, pushing her moist nose against his cheek in a gentle gesture.

Then she spoke.

She didn't actually speak, he only heard the voice in his head. But he knew it was one of the voices that had spoken to him in his vision.

"Finally awake sleepyhead?" her voice asked. Cheery like a little deer girl, but at the same time with an eternal authority of a goddess.

"You know, eating that many of those mushrooms can be pretty dangerous. You should go and drink something, then you feel better."

Torim didn't question the advise. He nodded, not taking his eyes of the feral deer that kept looking at him completely fearless. He knew the way to the little creek, he had seen it before. Just downhill.

The deer followed him, and drank next to him.

"Why are you following me?" He asked, feeling silly talking loud to a deer. The deer flicked its ears. But the voice in his head laughed. Her chuckles sounded like the ringing of cute little bells. Light and playfull.

"You are on your spirit journey, right? Well, since you obviously can't even tell edible mushrooms from poisonous ones, I'm now your spirit guardian. Follow me!" She ordered.

The doe looked at him, almost as if it was smirking, then started running.

Torim wasn't sure if he liked that. It felt like she was mocking him. He was coming of age, he didn't need no guardian. But for now, he followed.

She showed him plants with leaves. The deer ate them. He tried one. It tastes horribly bitter. The voice in his head giggled.

Then a tree with edible bark. She told him it could also be used for paint. But it was so chewy, he could barely get it down.

Later, she showed him some small black berries. The deer ate a few, then made room so he could pick a few from the bush for himself.

They were so sour, the sensation pulled his flews up and he bared his fangs at the bush, growling.

"All this stuff tastes horrible." He complained.

She giggled again. "Well, that's the way it is. There's lots of sweet berries, you just need to wait two or three months, until they are all ripe." The deer pranced over to another bush with thorns. It was a raspberry bush, but it was still full of flowers.

Torim's stomach growled.

"I want meat. Isn't there something I can hunt?"

The deer glared at him, then walked closer. "Are you a killer, Torim? Can you eat, who speaks to you?"

Torim gulped. Suddenly the little doe looked pretty intimidating to him.

"I... I was thinking of some little feral critter. A squirrel maybe?"

The deer still held the gaze while the voice sounded more angry. "The squirrels here are mine! All animals are! I won't let you kill my creatures while you are under my direct guidance."

Torim bared his fangs. "I'm hungry. Don't tell me I can't eat. I'm a wolf! We do eat meat, it's only natural."

The growling in his stomach added a bit more fierceness to his complaint than he planned. It was the hunger that was talking through his anger.

The deer kept staring at him. It was hard to discern an emotion through those eyes. And the voice in his head was currently silent. Was there a trace of fear maybe? The doe's tail flicked.

"If meat is what you want, then... eat! Eat if you must! There's plenty!"

The doe just stood there, glaring.

He hesitated. Wolves did eat deer, he knew that. But he usually got his venison on a plate, roasted, or cooked. Not standing on all fours, looking at him.

Unsure he made a step towards the doe.

The doe's ears flicked, as if it was fighting an instinct to run away.

Torim tried to remember what he knew about taking prey down. What could he do, bite the neck?

The doe didn't make any attempt to flee. So he crouched down next to her and put his hands around her neck.

She didn't fight him.

When he opened his maw and bit her throat, she bleated. The bleat almost sounded like a little moan. He could feel her, her pulse against his lips, the throbbing in her veins, just underneath her warm fur. The sensation of her breath, shaking slightly. He suddenly felt so very close.

But she still didn't fight him. She held still for him.

His fangs pierced her skin, and he tasted the metallic taste of fresh warm blood. He squeezed her in his jaws, felt her soft flesh give way. She gasped a last breath, then she couldn't get any air through anymore. She started trembling. Her heartbeat became faster and faster.

"So, you like this?" her voice sounded in his head. Curious, a bit unsure. Not angry at all, more like...

And there was something else. A scent. A scent which he hadn't smelled before. It came from her. But it wasn't fear. Was it...

Arousal?

To his embarassment, pretty much just as this realisation hit him, his own member made itself known with a familiar throbbing. He was getting hard.

He let go of her neck for a second, and the doe let out a bleat that sounded like a long moan. She was trembling.

"Come on, don't stop now. You can do it!" The voice in his head encouraged him.

Once again, he grabbed her neck. He tasted the blood, he felt the heat. His cock was fully out of its shaft by now.

Then something in him snapped. He felt their both arousal, and he took her. He thrust into her, he fucked her, and while she was bleating in ecstasy, he ripped chunks of meat our of her flanks and back.

The sex turned into a frenzy. He didn't bother killing her, he just ate her flesh, raw and juicy, while she - still alive - licked the blood gore and cum of his cock.

It ended in a depraved sixty nine. He ate the flesh he had fucked a second ago, then continued on to devour her innards, uncaring for the slime and gore that covered his fur.

When they were done only gory chunks of meat and bone were left of her. Full and tired he fell asleep among her remains.

But as he made his way back home, marked by what he had done, he still heard her voice in his mind.

"You ate my deer, so now I'm with You instead." she chuckled.

"But don't worry, you are going to make a great shaman!"

(The end)