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"Do you see them, Loboron?"

"... Yes."

Sirroc's golden eyes flicked to his younger brother, making certain the golden-haired Lykaios was paying attention to the patrol ahead. Neither spoke above a whisper, their keen ears catching every word they uttered to each other even with the nighttime sounds of owls, insects, and natural fauna moving beneath the brush- none of which held any concern for the Thalmor squad. One figure turned to face another, his visage visible in the torchlight; a sight that caused Sirroc's paw to tighten around the hilt of his sword.

"Sirroc."

The quiet voice made him flinch slightly, casting his gaze to the other. "Mm?"

"... Why are we not attacking?" The younger wolf gave him look that was laced with anger and confusion, his blue eyes narrowed.

A pang tore through Sirroc's chest. How he would love to attack, to pierce their lungs with arrows, tear their throats out with their teeth, or disembowel them with his blade. They deserved nothing less.

But he had to know.

"Soon, little brother. We need to know if..."

He trailed off, paw tightening around the hilt of his weapon again. To say it aloud even as a suggestion might invoke the gods to make it reality; or even worse, unsettle Loboron to take action. He shook his head, holding a finger to his lips and motioning them both to move forward. With a silence matched only by the darkness that concealed them they approached, unnoticed by the Altmer trio ahead. Whether it was their skill in stealth or by the blessing of Hircine, not even the insects they brushed against ceased in their noise; nude as they were, there was no rustling of clothing or risk of a sleeve getting caught on a branch or reed. The shadows concealed the rest; Sirroc's toned, gray-furred body, golden eyes, and braided silver hair; and Lobo's lithe, tan-furred body, blue eyes, and golden locks. Even the moonlight did not fully reveal them.

Twenty paces separated them. More than close enough to hear their muffled, hushed voices, to the ears of a Lykaios.

"Two more groups going west, another going north," a deep voice muttered. "The only places we had no checkpoint."

"They may have caught on," a female voice suggested. "Tribes to the south had tip-offs from the Khajiiti resistance, we can't dismiss the possibility that the tribes here have local sympathizers." The other two muttered in agreement. "Have the scouts given you an update?"

"Three squads have been sent to patrol around Bruma, another is occupying what remains of the mongrels' camps," a third voice answered, this one male and simpering. "Last report was the tribe was still being tracked. They will either head to the Colovian Highlands in the east, or through the Jerall Mountains into Skyrim."

Had Sirroc not feared breaking the silence he would have let out a breath of relief. Not all was lost. It was too much to hope for that their tribe was fully intact- both he and Loboron knew some of them were dead- but the Thalmor were at least not victorious yet. He caught a look from his younger brother, a similar look of relief in his expression, sharing a nod. It took only a raised paw to inform him to stay his hand, and Loboron relaxed the string on his bow. They would need more information.

"Assuming they go north," the female was saying, "how do you think the Justiciar will respond?"

"High King Torygg has granted Madam Elenwen housing in a manse within his hold; the property of a heretic, I'm told. We will have agents in Skyrim eventually, but..."

"It will take time," the deep-voice finished. "I'm to understand that she didn't give her endorsement to the Lykaios pogroms."

"Why? Has she a soft spot for the mutts?" the smug voice cackled.

"It's expending valuable resources," the female snapped, silencing the other man. "We waste our time here burning camps and lynching these useless beasts instead of turning our attention to the growing rebellion in Skyrim. If those thick-headed morons in the North can inspire retaliation here in Cyrodiil, we'll be in for a long fight."

"I agree," the deep voice muttered. "Justiciar Thramire would have been better served devoting his forces towards suppressing any uprisings. Look what happened in Elsweyr- a single failure to cow the Mane into submission and half the country breaks out in a rebellion. Not to mention the Renrijra Krin know how to hide their resistance."

"But enough of that," the female sighed. "What now?"

"The Lykaios tribes here are not friendless," the deep voice answered. "They may seek refuge in Chorrol or Bruma before crossing the mountains."

"They'll need to do it in secret," the female agreed. Silence lingered for a few seconds before the figure seemed to straighten up. "The Khajiit caravans. Keep an eye on them."

"... Yes," the deep voice agreed. "The Lykaios are known to get on well with the cats. They may try to barter for passage north."

Sirroc perked up at that, trading a wide-eyed glance with Loboron. He lowered his paw, resting it on the sword strapped to his side as he watched his younger brother take a breath, nock an arrow, and draw his bowstring back. As far as either of them were concerned, they had all the information they needed.

All that was left was to repay them in kind.

The arrow was let loose with a twang that shattered the silence like glass, whistling through the air and sinking into the nearest figure's hood. A sharp gasp and a gurgle mixed with the sound of the arrow punching through soft flesh, a flicker of steel in the moonlight disappearing before breaking through the other side. The figure fell over, writhing weakly as he gurgled and gasped.

Sirroc did not care. He had sprung to action the moment the arrow was fired, sprinting hard towards the remaining two and drawing his longsword in a smooth motion. He was within striking distance when the pair turned back to him, raising their hands up quickly to cast their magicks at him; the smaller of the two had released her firebolt when his sword fell upon her.

The flame rocketed inches away from his right eye, the intense heat causing him to wince; not enough for him to pull back. With a snarl he followed through, his sword cleaving through the mage's collarbone and halfway through her chest, stifling the sharp scream as blood gurgled from her throat; her body went slack and the torch in her hand fell to the cobblestone. It took a kick to her midsection for him to draw his sword from her carcass, turning to face the last Thalmor.

He was too slow to dodge the mage's spell, a bolt of lightning cracking off his right-hand fingertips and striking the gray wolf in the chest. A thousand jolts coursed through his nerves and he yelped in agony, the force of the blow knocking him off his feet as his blade clattered away from him.

"Disgusting dog!" the Thalmor roared, his left hand releasing the second spell. A green glow enveloped him, illuminating his features as his pale-yellow skin hardened into beech-white bark. His hand was raised to deliver a second shock, only for an arrow to catch him in the forearm. This time the projectile did not pierce deep, sounding much like it had landed in the trunk of a tree.

"Lobo, get down!" Sirroc coughed.

The Thalmor mage tore the arrow out of his arm, bringing his aim to the younger wolf; the world around them flashed and another jagged bolt tore through the air, striking Lobo in the shoulder, the younger wolf crying out with a wolfish yelp and disappearing into the forest grass.

It was more than enough time for Sirroc to act, heart hot with rage and eyes red with bloodlust. He'd been taught for years the way of the longsword, understood the weapon better than most- and understood it's limitations enough to know when to use something else. With a roll he returned to his feet and stooped to grab the fallen torch, lunging into the air and tumbling forward into the ground as the mage loosed a third bolt from his palm.

The tingle of charged hairs on his ears told him how close the spell had come, exploding against the cobblestone behind him as he rolled up to his feet. The mage's eyes were wide, his tree-bark face now visible in the torchlight as Sirroc grabbed his wrist, wrenched it down, and swung the torch down with all his might. A sickening crunch sounded as the blow caved in the mage's elbow, causing him to roar in agony. With no defense left, the gray wolf wound up his arm and thrust the torch into his face.

The roar turned into a blood-curdling scream as the flames licked the dry bark-like skin, staggering the mage long enough for Sirroc to kick his feet out from under him. Now vulnerable the wolf raised the torch again, stabbing the flame into the mage's open mouth and muffling his scream- for all the good it did, his howls barely lessening in volume.

And the wolf watched. Even as the mage's still-alive and terrified eyes stared back up at him, even as he writhed and flailed against the foot and leg pinning him down, the wolf glared at him with a smoldering hatred that matched the living pyre he had created. A rustling to his right caused his ear to flick, but he did not look away. He did not need to, in order to know Loboron had approached him with the same expression, the same hatred. Yet out the corner of his eye, he could see the pair of bottles his little brother was holding.

The younger wolf said nothing, taking only a moment to spit on the screaming man's face before throwing both vials at him. The glasses shattered, shards digging into the bark as the alchemical solutions splashed against his still terrified visage. The smell of juniper berries and fresh sap filled the air- and as they seeped into the mage's head, his screaming intensified, his body convulsing as the sheer pain robbed him of any action but to writhe until his death.

It was enough. With one last look of hatred the older wolf stepped away from his prey and gathered his blade, taking only a moment to regard the bodies with disgust. "To Oblivion with you and your Dominion," he spat.

"We avenged some of our kin with this," Loboron growled. "But it's not enough."

"It'll have to do," Sirroc sighed. "We should move- those screams may be heard by their patrols."

They strode back into the forest, their feet light and swift as they left the living pyre behind, the smell of burning wood lingering. With any luck, it would simply look like a campfire from a distance. Even now, the screams were dying down, until the silence caused him to look back.

"He's not dead yet," Loboron told him bitterly. "I made sure of it."

"What did you douse him with?" Sirroc asked.

"A potion and a poison," the younger wolf said darkly. "The former to enhance his Alteration spell; the latter to make him vulnerable to the flame." He looked to Sirroc, tears in his eyes. "I want them to burn here on Nirn, long before they burn in the Deadlands."

The Lykaios tribes were a tolerated presence in Cyrodiil, small settlements in the Nibenay Basin, the Imperial Reserve, and the West Weald. Though not widely loved by the otherwise cosmopolitan country and it's Imperial City, the tribes had been accepted for their hunting prowess and natural skill in the wilderness. It was widely said that one need scarcely fear an ogre in Skingrad, for the protection the tribes provided to the surrounding area.

When the Great War broke out, the tribes became displaced and harassed by the Aldmeri Dominion, forced to relocate their families to the mountains while their scouts and warriors allied themselves with the local resistance. While the Empire was rightly credited for the tactical genius in retaking the Imperial City back, much of the intel they used were provided by the rangers of the Lykaios, eager to prove they could be trusted. When at last the Aldmeri Dominion retreated and the White-Gold Concordant was signed, most tribes felt at ease, hopeful that peace would linger.

But then came the pogroms.

It was not the heresy of worshiping Talos for which they were targeted, for the Lykaios accepted him only as a god of the Imperial pantheon. To the Lykaios, the blessings of Hircine, Kynareth, Z'en and Mara were the only ones that mattered. Some suspected it was retaliation for aiding the Empire; or perhaps they simply found followers of Hircine detestable. The only charges the Thalmor had leveled against them were those of unprovoked attacks. When the Thalmor invoked the White-Gold Concordant to criticize the Empire for not denouncing the tribes, the Lykaios could sense war once again on the horizon. The Empire would not help.

It would, Sirroc supposed, explain why there were no patrols along the roads these days. A benefit to those hiding in caves overlooking them.

"Easy, little brother," he sighed, layering more of the poultice onto the wound and covering the burn in Loboron's shoulder. "Almost done."

"Damn those Thalmor pikers," the younger wolf groaned. "Damn them and their magicks."

"You turned it against them," Sirroc pointed out, taking a bandage out and wrapping the younger wolf's upper arm and shoulder. The now-clothed archer flinched before relaxing. "It was the end that bastard deserved. And you heard what they said, they haven't killed all of us."

"Yet," Lobo sighed. "I don't expect them to stop until we're all chased from our homes or put down. If we at least knew why..."

"We'll be waiting a long time for that answer, I'm afraid," the older wolf admitted. A few moments later he tied the bandage in place, testing it briefly. "How's it feeling?"

"Better- still stiff, though." He nodded towards the cave opening. "Still clear out there?"

"I decided against putting down the alarm field, I'm pretty sure the Thalmor mages could see it if they're close enough." He leaned back, peering through the hanging moss-covered entrance; the Orange Road, the path between Chorrol and Bruma, was in clear view from their perch, yet no torchlight nor magelight were in their vicinity. Of in the distance they could barely make out the city of Chorrol, with pinpricks of light visible every so often, though they headed west or north. In the hour since they stopped for the night, none of those lights had strayed near their range, and Sirroc doubted they would be able to see the cave even with the proper light; the narrow entrance was barely big enough for a single man to squeeze through unless they had help.

But it was also a cave the Lykaios knew well, a place to rest while tracking herds of deer or to rest when the weather turned ill. A secret the Lyakios would not share, it was the one of the only advantages they had with the recent and sudden attacks on the tribe. With luck perhaps more of the tribe, or members from a different tribe, would find the cave and give news. For now, it was the best place for them to stay hidden.

"We're fine," the older wolf sighed, getting to his feet. "I think we can get a good night's sleep if we move to the back of the cave and set the alarm there."

"I thought you said they would be able to see it," Lobo frowned.

"_If_they find this cave we're in trouble anyway," Sirroc reasoned as he helped his younger brother back up. With his palm upturned he concentrated, a spark of light flickering between his thumb and finger, growing into a hand-sized ball of warm light that illuminated their surroundings; though possessed of night-sight, it was now easier to navigate some of the darker parts around them. "And at least here, I can set up a tripwire and some caltrops. As long as we don't make a fire we should be fine."

They moved deeper into the cavern, paw-in-paw, turning a corner and coming into an open area, a moderate-sized divot in a round chamber. The familiar smell of furs and tribal incense lingered in the air, from hunting parties long since passed. To the right of the divot was a small totem to Hircine, a cleaned and blessed elk skull with antlers; next to it, in the center of the divot, were a pile of cleaned furs encircled by stores of dried food.

"Just like the packleader said," Lobo smiled. "I never got to stay in this cave."

"I have," Sirroc replied, helping his younger brother down. "In fact I came down here with Aryss last Hearthfire when she was in heat. I was hoping my seed would take root in her, but I guess we were a few days too late. It was still a nice time." He paused, setting his gear to the side and taking a seat on the furs. "I hope she's okay."

A warm paw squeezed his shoulder, Lobo sitting next to him. "I'm sure she is. I'm sure they all are," he added. "We would have found more bodies if the Thalmor had intercepted them, and they wouldn't still be looking if they had any idea where they'd gone."

"That's true," Sirroc admitted, laying down on the furs and staring up into the ceiling. "Still... I know we saw this coming, but it's just happened way too fast. It's hard not to feel a little... lost."

The younger wolf nodded. "I feel it too," he replied, laying next to him. "At least I have you though."

The older wolf smiled. "Wouldn't have it any other way, little brother." He sighed and sat back up again. "So now that we're safe, we should start talking about where we should go from here."

There was a look of pain on his younger brother's face, reluctance and sadness that Sirroc could feel deeply. "Sirroc... do we really need to leave?" he whined quietly. "This... this is our home. We were able to kill those bastards just fine, we could hide in places like these until the Thalmor decide to just give up, right?"

"Lobo..." Sirroc sighed- it was the same argument again. "We got lucky. They were distracted, we had the darkness on our side, and they were just a trio of mages. We won't have that same advantage if they send out armed and armored soldiers who are on the hunt for us specifically. And we _still_got injured," he reminded Lobo, pointing to the singed fur on his own chest, then at the other wolf's arm.

"We'll be more careful," Lobo started to insist, sitting up.

"We can be as careful as we want," Sirroc intercepted him sternly, "but at some point one of us will drop our guard. This is not just going to stop at small patrols of three on foot- with the Empire in no position to intervene, the Thalmor are going to be crawling over these hills like ants. Even assuming we only stay in here and never go out, they'll eventually find our hidden camps; even if we rotate between them."

"But..." the younger wolf seemed to deflate at that, tears forming in his eyes. "This is our home..."

Sirroc's throat tightened, fighting back the urge to break down at the words. It was home- and they had to leave it. They both knew it. If he were to lose his composure now it would be the one thing that might cause Lobo to stay. He leaned in, pulling the younger wolf into his arms.

"If it keeps every member of our tribe safe, I would gladly give up home. I would give it up just to save you." He nuzzled the snuffling wolf's forehead. "We already lost our parents in the ashes of the Great War- I'm not going to lose you too."

"I... I know," the younger wolf shivered, squeezing him tight. "I just wish we didn't have to leave. I don't like changes like this."

"No one does," Sirroc agreed. "But I'm going to keep you safe, alright?"

"You're the one who needs to be kept safe," Lobo smiled sadly.

"Obviously," Sirroc said encouragingly. "We're not going to be safe here for too long, but if we keep moving we'll have a better chance." He got up to his feet, grabbing his gear again. "I'm going to head up to the entrance and put a few traps midway; some bone chimes, a couple of tripwires and caltrops, something to give us time, but I'm certain they won't find us here tonight. Then we'll talk about where to go."

"Alright," Lobo sniffed, wiping his face. "I'll have calmed down by then."

Much as he did not want to leave the younger wolf to himself, Sirroc steeled himself and stepped back out into the tunnel leading to the entrance, taking out a vial from his side-pouch and uncorking it. He winced slightly, keeping the contents away from his nose as a burst of musk nearly filled his nostrils. Taking care not to use too much he poured several droplets at the mouth of the cave before sealing it and stepping away with a feeling of grim satisfaction. To a human or elf nose, the scent would be nearly undetectable and lost in a heavily wooded area; but to the nose of a Lykaios or a Khajiit, they would catch the scent of deer musk mixed with lavender- a clear indication that the cave was inhabited by something other than a wayward stag, and a warning that the entrance would be trapped.

It took ten minutes for him to set everything up, having most of it on-hand from the camp when they left- bone chimes painted gray and green to match the rocks and hanging moss; caltrops hidden beneath brown and gray cloth to look like pebbles; a thin trip wire every ten feet with a bell attached to each end. By the time he was done, the cave looked almost completely the same, even lined with traps and alarms. One last look to ensure everything was stable, and he retreated back into the living space.

By now Lobo had stripped bare and set his clothing aside, curled up on the furs. He looked up at the older wolf, ears pinned back.

"I'm sorry," he sighed. "I've been acting like a pup again."

"Don't apologize," Sirroc told him, pulling off his shirt. "Grieving for our dead and for having lost our home is not the behavior of a pup. It's taking all I have just to keep it together," he admitted, pulling off his belt and setting his longsword aside.

"Maybe, but I shouldn't be making things difficult either. I'm ready to talk about..." he trailed off, swallowing, "... where we'll go."

Sirroc nodded and pulled off his trousers, now completely naked as he sat on the furs in front of the other wolf and started digging through his gear. "Remember that trip to the Imperial City I took last year?" he asked, pulling out a medium-sized scroll tube. Lobo nodded. "I wasn't the only one. The elders of each tribe were concerned it would be a matter of time before the Aldmeri Dominion would attack again, and they would try to take us out first to deprive the Empire of scouts. So they each sent one of their best fighters to the Imperial City to acquire updated maps of each region, to make copies of."

He opened the tube and pulled out a thick, sturdy roll of parchment, unfurling it to reveal a map of Tamriel, spreading it out between them. "To the west is Hammerfell and High Rock; to the east, Black Marsh and Morrowind; the south holds Elsweyr; and to the north is Skyrim." He looked up to the younger wolf. "I know where I want to go, but I'm open to hearing suggestions."

"I'm going where you go," Lobo said simply. "But if it influences your decision, tell me about each."

"Hammerfell is wasteland and desert," Sirroc started. "I'm not keen on that. Black Marsh is out as well, the Argonians know how best to live in such a place. Elsweyr is in the middle of its own troubles, as we heard from those Thalmor we killed- we _could_hide among its resistance, but between the deserts and hot jungles it's not an easy place to live."

"Let's avoid the heat," Lobo agreed. "What else, then?"

"High Rock, from what I've read, is a comfortable place; but it's also a great distance from here. Morrowind is still a land of ash and racists. That just leaves Skyrim, which is stirring up trouble with the Empire."

"Over what?" Lobo asked.

"Of all things, Talos," Sirroc replied, shaking his head.

"I don't understand."

"Talos is a big part of their culture, I'm told. I think he originally came from Skyrim. But after the Empire's treaty with the Thalmor people aren't allowed to worship Talos any longer." He shook his head. "Beyond that, I don't know much."

"Maybe we could join that resistance, then," the younger wolf suggested. "If the Empire isn't going to help us, maybe the Nords will."

"Maybe," Sirroc sighed. "But I don't blame the Empire for not being in a position to help anybody even if they want to. They're still recovering from the Great War, like everyone else. Either way, by the sounds of that conversation that dead trio were having it doesn't sound like the Thalmor are fully established there yet. If we can get there and establish a place for the pack, maybe get a parcel of land for our tribe before the Thalmor can dig their claws into Skyrim, then we might be able to weather this storm."

"Sounds good," Lobo nodded. "How should we get there?"

Sirroc stared at the map, tracing his claw along the Orange Road between Chorrol and Bruma. "We'll need to avoid the roads, but we can still travel alongside them." He stopped at its end, then traced up the Silver Road. "Chances are the Thalmor will be patrolling the area, but I don't think they'll actually be in Bruma- it's almost a Nord city on its own, so the Thalmor might not want to raise tensions. We can get supplies there."

"What do we trade?"

"Anything." The gray wolf looked around. "There's a lot of unused pelts here that could fetch some good coin if I can clean them. I'll only take a few so that any other Lykaios that comes here will have enough to use or barter with. If you can brew up a few potions to sell, that could also help."

"We'll see what we can find along the way," Lobo agreed. "And after that?"

The wolf didn't answer immediately, rubbing his chin and tapping the end of a road leading north out of Bruma. "Somewhere north of the city is a ruined fort of some kind. We can take refuge in there and use the position to keep watch until we're sure we can move. Then we'll take the road out of Bruma, back up the Silver Road and into the Jerall Mountains."

"Will it be safe?"

"The Imperials use a path in that area to get to Falkreath Hold," Sirroc nodded. "With a little luck, we can avoid the caravans heading north. It'll be three days long travel to get there, and it'll get cold; I'll keep at least two bear furs on hand to make into cloaks, once we get to Bruma."

The younger wolf nodded. "Alright. I'll help with that."

Sirroc rolled the map back up and packed it away with his gear, laying down on the soft, warm furs with a sigh. "For now, we should get some sleep. It's been..."

He paused, his brow furrowing.

"... How many days have we been awake?" he asked.

"Two days," Lobo sighed. "It feels like we've been at this a week without sleep. It's just been... so much chaos and adrenaline." He stared up at the ceiling. "I don't think I could sleep even now."

"We have to," Sirroc told him, scooting in close and pulling his brother into his arms. "Every extra hour we stay awake, we become less efficient. The cave is hidden and the tunnel is rigged to alert us- we're safe tonight."

Lobo didn't say anything immediately in response, a twinge of worry growing in the older wolf as he wondered if he was still in shock or denial. Before too long, he spoke.

"You know... it's gonna be us for a while," Lobo said. "None of the other pack will be here for comfort. If you need me..."

Sirroc blinked, then breathed in sharply as he felt the younger wolf's paw slide against his bare sheath. Warmth built in his chest and loins as Lobo brought his fingers under Sirroc's heavy balls, cupping one of the soft orbs in his palm. The pleasant tingle of touch along his balls brought a sly smile to Sirroc's face, looking into the younger wolf's beautiful eyes.

"You're wonderful, you know that?" he told him.

"I know my place in the pack- beneath you," Lobo smiled.

Their lips met in a deep kiss, not as siblings would kiss, but as a pair of males who had years of sexual of experience between them. Their warm, toned bodies drew close and met, matching the restrained intensity as their long, powerful tongues danced in each other's muzzles. Lobo let out a submissive moan, rolled onto his back by older brother's superior strength; no opportunity to resist, had he any mind to, was offered to him as Sirroc's paws clasped against the younger wolf's and pinned them to the furs beneath them. Sharp, subtle gasps passed through their mouths, muffled by lips and tongues, sparked by the caressing of their swollen sheathes and balls.

The difference between them was significant, not least in size. Lobo's package was respectable by any metric, noticeably, though not outstandingly, above average, certainly enough to satisfy any male or female he might have chosen to bed. Sirroc's stygian beast, on the other hand, could only be described as gifted- as the seconds wore on and their cocks slowly spilled from their sheathes, their balls nestled against each other, Lobo's admirably long prick was humbly outclassed by the cock of an alpha breeder. Every throb of the powerful tool seemed to make the thick, ebony wolfcock pump a fresh dollop of precum; every frotting thrust against each other sending rolling ripples of hot joy through Sirroc's loins.

The kiss broke and Lobo smiled up at his brother, panting as if he'd run the width of Cyrodiil from Cheydinhal to Anvil. "How...?"

The older wolf grinned. "Hmm?"

"You just told me you bred Aryss last time you were here- how did you fail to sire pups for her?" he teased, licking Sirroc's nose playfully.

"Hmm... maybe because I'd prefer to knock _you_up first," the older wolf chuckled, dipping a little lower and nipping Lobo's neck. "Maybe because I kept draining my balls in your muzzle or ass before I left to fuck her."

"Nng... what does that say... about us?" Lobo moaned, a puppy-like whine pouring from his lips.

Sirroc stopped and touched noses with Lobo, a look of genuine care and love in his eyes as he brought up a paw and cupped his cheek. "It means that as much as I like Aryss... I love you, little brother."

"I love you too, Sirroc," Lobo sighed, beaming up at him.

"I'm going to hold out hope that everyone else makes it out okay," Sirroc whispered to him. "But even if they do... Lobo... would you be my first pack-mate?"

The younger wolf took in a sharp breath, tears forming in his eyes. "You... want me to be your first male?"

"The circumstances are dire, but the timing is perfect," Sirroc murmured, tracing his lips along Lobo's jaw. "The tribe's oldest sons are always given the choice to leave or stay. I would have left- and I would have taken you with me anyway. This just means... I'll be taking you with me a little farther."

The younger wolf laughed, wiping his eyes. "Y-yeah...? I mean... I wouldn't have said no back then- and I'm not gonna say no now."

"In that case... let this be our first night together," Sirroc sighed into his ear, thrusting his proud length against his brother's trembling flesh. "You've done it before. Give yourself to me now. Give yourself to my pack- my tribe."

"I'm yours," Lobo moaned. "I submit to you... my alpha..."

Their muzzles met and said in that act alone everything they needed to say and hear- assurances that they would survive this, that all would be well in the end. The younger wolf surrendered easily to his older brother, moaning into his mouth as their bodies clung to each other. Now it was not merely the friction of their bare, throbbing cocks that heightened their arousal; the feel of soft fur and firm muscle between them, of a wiry and agile body embraced and dominated by an athletic and trained one, only made the roiling ecstasy in their loins swell.

The mindset of man would call it an abomination; that of the mer would call it unholy; the Argonian would find it curious, the Khajiit would see it a fine alternative. Uncommon as it was to even the Lykaios, it was still a union to be celebrated and supported.

But nobody could tell them not to. If there had been anyone there, Sirroc would not have stopped; and he doubted Lobo would let him.

Their kiss broke, leaving both wolves panting for breath. Sirroc was the first to rise, pulling Lobo up to his knees as he stood over him, his breathing heavy as he brought his paw to his turgid, ebony prick and angled it down to the younger wolf's face. Neither of them had to share a single word; the act, mixed with a simple glint in their eyes, was enough to convey what they both wanted. In the next moment Lobo acted, bringing his muzzle down onto the throbbing tool and lashing his thick, long tongue along the precum-stained surface of his older brother's proud bitch-breeder. Within seconds the ebony spire was slick with cock-grease, slathered with a thick veneer of coating from which a powerful male scent emanated. The heady aroma caused both of their heads to spin, Sirroc bracing against the nearby wall to keep himself balanced.

Lobo, on the other hand, seemed to dip his head low with a lust-drunk expression, whining as his face and forehead caressed the throbbing pole; from Sirroc's view it almost looked like he was paying worship to the tool, the thought of such a thing spiking his lusts even further. A growl erupted from the younger wolf, jerking up and taking a deep breath before pushing his muzzle around Sirroc's cock and swallowing half of it in one fluid motion.

Sirroc let out a sharp hiss, arching his back with a shudder when the long, vibrating shocks of bliss coursed through his cock and up his spine. The sensation of his little brother's warm, long tongue now swirling around the base of his cock caused his loins to ache with need, the desire to rut mounting. With a wide smile he stared down at the younger pup, running his paw through his hair and admiring the sight of his cock sliding past his little brother's lips. "I always thought you might make a lucky boy happy someday- and I always hoped that I would be that lucky boy," he murmured, rubbing Lobo's right ear affectionately.

Lobo pulled away with a smile, looking up at Sirroc with pure love and stroking his cock with on paw. "I would have followed you anywhere, Sirroc. Even if I wasn't your first male, I would have been happy to keep being a part of your life. All of this, what's happening now... I feel like we'll be alright as long as you're with me."

At that Sirroc got to his knees, pulling Lobo into his arms again and touching noses with him. "We will be. I promise." They kissed once more, sharing in the intense moment with their shafts grinding, balls nestled together. When at last they broke off Lobo moved away, kneeling on the fur skins for a moment before spreading his legs apart and raising his tail to reveal his pucker- the position a bitch would take to submit to their alpha, showing they knew their place as the tribe leader's mate.

It made the moment all the more real.

In the space of a moment Sirroc was on top of him, wrenching the younger man up onto his knees aggressively and holding his arms in place; for he did not need to guide his cock into Lobo's ass carefully. Years of passionate, incestuous lovemaking had given them both the intimate knowledge they needed of each other's bodies, trusting each other to act as one, moving in tandem so that when Sirroc's hip drove forward, Lobo's tailhole was in the perfect position to catch his brother's cock in its grasp. The younger wolf cried out in bliss, gasping and whining as Sirroc's thick girth spread him apart easily. In the time it took for Lobo to draw in a sharp breath, his brother-mate's impressive bitch-breeder was perfectly buried to the hilt in his body.

They held like this for nearly a minute, more than enough time for Lobo to lean back onto his brother's shoulder, turning his head to intercept the kiss that came a second later. Lips locked again, Sirroc's hips trembled and rocked gently, generating sweet pulses of bliss from where both were connected, grinding against the pleasure-trigger just behind Lobo's cock and balls. Every twitch caused that intense joy to surge, generating a thick output of precum that dribbled down his own proud length and pooled onto the bear sabercat pelts beneath them.

"Ready, little brother?" Sirroc whispered into his ear.

"Why are you asking?" he moaned back. "This is where I'm meant to be- take me."

It was all the response Sirroc needed, pulling his hips away from Lobo's backside and taking in a deep breath before driving them back in hard and swift. The younger wolf gasped, breath caught in his chest as the impact shook him to the core. He drew back again, arching his back and rolling his hips in with another powerful thrust, stabbing his breeding pole deep into Lobo's body; another gasp, and Lobo's head was swimming with lust, dimly aware of the firm shape pressing against the inside of his belly. A third thrust lanced through his inner walls and pounded against the trigger deep in his core, finally causing Lobo's voice to break forth in a keening, wild moan, his body shuddering and rolling back into Sirroc's hips as their incestuous mating started.

There was no need for the older wolf to force Lobo into position, as the youth moved in tandem and met every thrust with a counter-thrust of his own; no need to share more words of love and affection that their moaning, groaning, and growling did not already share, wordless exchanges of loyalty and lust buried beneath the yips and whines that reverberated against the cavern walls. Neither of these kept Sirroc from grabbing Lobo's wrists and wrenching them firmly behind his back, or from grunting his satisfaction as he speared his thick cock into his little brother again and again, breeding him exactly as an alpha wolf was meant to. Every thrust was greeted by Lobo's inner walls clenching hard around his girth, trying to keep him in, yet the slick output made it impossible for it to prevent Sirroc's cock from being drawn out; only for it to pound back into place with the sound of hips clapping against a taut, lithe ass, causing a yip or a gasp to pour out of Lobo's muzzle.

Warmth and something like a raw, beautiful pain welled up in their chests, the act of their mating deeper now than it had been before; a facet of the circumstances making the sex that much more intense and meaningful. Through the haze of lust and bliss Sirroc could rationalize what he was feeling. Where before their fucking had simply been done for enjoyment and recreation, or to be affectionate to the only blood-family he had left, now there was something deeper within- Lobo's acceptance to be his brother-mate and first member of his own pack. The grief of losing the tribe, if only temporarily, had dulled almost into nothing, but the knowledge was there enough to add to the bliss. In this new world and future, they had only each other to rely on- and they still did have each other, a blessing of it's own. To Kyne, to Mara, and to Hircine, he devoted his mating to- Kyne for the natural bond; Mara to the love and compassion to keep them safe; and Hircine to give him the strength to protect his brother and become stronger.

It was a silent prayer, uttered in between every grunt as he gave in deeper to his rut. With a growl he pushed Lobo down onto his hands, draping himself over the younger man and making sure he had nowhere to go. His right arm wrapped around Lobo's chest, while his left paw wrapped around his cock and squeezed. "Gonna breed you, little brother... tell me how much you want it."

"I-I_need_it," Lobo whimpered, pushing his ass back into Sirroc's hips.

"I want to hear better than that," Sirroc panted into his ear.

"I... I can't survive without you," he whined. "I need my brother!"

"You'll accept my knot?" Sirroc hissed into his ear. Lobo would never refuse it, he knew, but its significance in this moment, for his little brother to give himself to the new tribe and always have a place in his bed, was not lost on either of them. To tie with him would mean something deeper, an actual connection that nobody could take away- not even the Thalmor.

That alone was strength to cherish.

"All of it!" Lobo cried out.

Sirroc's loins burned, his balls ached, his heart sang as his brother accepted him, a surge of adrenaline and lust driving his trained hips and abs to flex with every thrust and roll that speared his cock into his sibling. His paw worked the younger male's turgid shaft, thumb caressing over the head and fingers massaging the pulsating flesh with firm squeezes; all the while ensuring his lips and muzzle were not idle by nipping, biting, kissing, and nuzzling Lobo's neck and shoulders, every little tug of fur like a miniature mating bite, a gentle affection to contrast against the hard lovemaking he subjected the younger wolf to. It was not without effect, Lobo's voice reduced to a wordless, keening moan as he sang his loyalty and love to the older wolf, shifting his ass back into Sirroc's lap and squeezing down around his sibling-lover's girth as best he could, subjecting the throbbing, ebony tool to the gnawing sensation of a thirsty bitch-hole, hungry for the seed that was only now starting to build up deep within.

"Getting close," he growled into his brother's ear. "Last chance to say no."

"Nng... d-don't... tease me," Lobo whimpered. "I meant it all- I'll follow you to Oblivion and back."

"Then roll over."

Without warning Sirroc pulled out completely, shivering as the comparatively cool air chilled his steaming hot cock and pushing the younger wolf's side, rolling him onto his back as Lobo yipped in surprise. In seconds he had remounted, curling the flexible wolf's body almost in half with his feet in the air, driving his cock downwards and hammering his length down into the tight, gripping tailhole as Lobo writhed and moaned. He reached out to embrace Sirroc, only for his paws to be intercepted and pinned down, their fingers entwined and palms clasped together in a dominant, but passionate position. Now even Sirroc was moaning, face contorting in pleasured shapes borne from the beautiful, growing ache in his balls; a pain that was causing his knot to swell.

He had chosen to switch positions for many reasons, key being that now he could see Lobo's face clearly as he rutted the pup with the strength of a trained alpha, unable to help but smile at his little brother's gasping, moaning, and pleading look. Lobo didn't even need to ask, the older wolf would not be so cruel as to deny him the seed he craved, even to tease him. With a growl he bore down harder on the pup, panting as the thick, swollen bulb brutally kissed his tight, precum-slick pucker, the alpha's balls clapping loudly against his ass. By now his cock was drooling precum at such a rate that the excess had started spilling out from around his girth, pouring from the tight orfice and staining Lobo's tail with the strong, erotic scent of two incestuous males.

The minutes wore on with only their panting, moaning, and the thick swats of strong hips beating against a toned ass, but as they passed Lobo's cries became more raw, his chest heaving as his orgasm neared. His eyes snapped open and his back arched, a sudden seizure rippling through his body that caused his inner anal walls to clench hard around Sirroc's girth, preventing his knotting. A howl rang through the cavern as Lobo's claws dug into the furs beneath him, his hard cock throbbing hard as his loins finally reacted; a hot, long ribbon of cum launched from the tip of his cock, half of it splattering against Sirroc's chest while the remainder arced in the air and splattered on his own chest and abs, staining them with rich, fertile seed. A second ribbon blasted from his tip and Sirroc reared back reflexively, the rope of cum splattering against his lips; he groaned, tasting the sweet, salty tang of his little brother's spunk on his lips, the scent and flavor tearing the last vestiges of his willpower and inhibitions. With a strained snarl the alpha leaned in and sank his teeth into Lobo's fur, not deep enough to injure but firmly enough to establish his place, enough to make the writhing, whimpering, cum-stained mess of a brother beneath him gasp in joy.

At that same moment the younger wolf's pucker loosened, relaxing against the warming, throbbing intruder as it continued to kiss against the pliable ring, the excess of musky precum making each thrust slick and smooth, widening the orifice little by little. With a gasp and a yip the bulb disappeared, locked inside the gripping, gnawing sensation of Lobo's inner walls massaging the bestial girth.

Sirroc's eyes went wide, back arching as he battered Lobo with a final, shuddering thrust and let out a howl of pure dominance, his feral cry marking the first true tribal breeding of his life. Gouts of white-hot, potent seed channeled through his swollen cumvein, flooding his little brother's belly with no fewer than seven powerful blasts of his essence, the excess leaking out onto the furs beneath them. For a full minute the incestuous lovers held themselves in place, pushing the moment out every second they could to enjoy the intense climax they had shared. Upon the minute ending their bodies relaxed, all tension fading from them as Sirroc draped himself over his brother, turning them both into a panting, sweaty pile of sexually-satisfied wolves.

The period thereafter was spent with Sirroc looking into Lobo's eyes, wordless whimpers and whines passing between them as they kissed and nuzzled, genuine lust borne from love reducing itself into expressing that deep affection. What heat between them had burned like a pyre had cooled into a deep warmth that they both savored as they held each other close, easing their breathing back to normal, slight gasps and shudders passing through them each time Sirroc's cock twitched or Lobo's tailhole clenched.

Before long, Lobo's voice murmured into his ear.

"I'm not afraid anymore."

The words prompted Sirroc to sit up, looking down at him. "No?"

"No," the younger wolf nodded, rubbing his older brother's chest. "These things will pass in time. As long as there was someone else, I would be fine, but I know I'm best with you."

"'A Lykaios alone seldom lives long; one that does, never lives happily,'" Sirroc nodded. "It'll be alright. Skyrim may not be home, but it's safer there than here."

They nuzzled and kissed again, more at ease now than they'd been in days. "Thank you, Sirroc."

"Anything for you, Lobo," he replied. "Think you can sleep now?"

"As soon as you pull out, yes," he laughed, blushing hard.

Sleep came to them swiftly. The gap in the ceiling of the cavern gave a half-obscured view into the stars above, with Masser and Secunda barely visible at the edge, and open enough for the sounds of wildlife to filter in. Both wolves were covered in a thick bearskin, nestled against each other not unlike newborn pups clinging to each other for comfort. The tension they'd felt earlier was all but gone, even if the pain and grief still lingered, yet both their ears flicked anytime an owl fluttered overhead, or a cricket chirped close to the gap.

Then, at roughly the same time, their shallow breathing gave way to quiet whimpers.

It was Cyrodiil, Lobo knew. He'd traveled around enough to recognize the hills of the Gold Coast. Ahead, he could see the city of Kvatch, the banner of the black wolf fluttering from atop a parapet. The smell of a forest permeated the air as he stood still, nerves tingling in anticipation.

Something was coming.

It started as a distant whisper, barely a sound within the wind as the sky above darkened, black clouds rolling in from the south. At first Lobo thought it was a powerful storm, though they were only known to come from the north; but within the edges were the dull glow of orange light, flickers of flame that licked from out of the clouds. Below it, looking like ants upon an ebony sheet, he could barely make out the shape of many winged things. None of what he saw brought fear to his heart, even as the dark storm billowed over the city and the flock between them circled ominously.

It was the lightning that drove fear into him.

A long, unnatural and jagged spire of red light and flame seemed to tear the world in half, crashing into the center of the city in a brilliant explosion of fire and electricity. The walls of the city burst in several places, tossing massive stones into the air, the force of the explosion rocking the very earth beneath Lobo's bare feet, knocking him to the ground; a tremor, he knew, that all in Nirn would feel. The ringing in his ears had only just subsided when he heard the wails and screams of death and pain from the city, flame issuing from the still smoking orifices the bolt had ruptured. He looked up, just in time to see the flock dive into the city, inhuman shrieks rising up from the swarm as they disappeared into the smoke and ash. By now the scent of the forest was accompanied by the acrid smell of ash and the bitter odor of blood; the sky was now glowing red with ire, deepening the fear the wolf felt.

When the flocks rose again, Lobo scrambled to his feet and started to run.

It did not matter where he would go. His heart pounded from adrenaline, chest heaving as he sprinted as fast as he could through the forest; the shrieks of the flock echoed behind him, growing louder by the minute. No beast nor ill wind slowed his feet, digging into the earth as he kept his pace, yet this was of little comfort. In his heart and mind he could feel the call of Hircine, the Lord of the Hunt, as all Lykaios would have felt in such a moment. Where the stoutest of Lykaios foolish enough not to heed the call, Lobo regarded it with the wisdom the elders had taught them. There would be no fight. The Master of the Chase, in his benevolence, gave him warning that this was a pursuit.

He was not a hunter anymore- he was prey.

For how long he ran, Lobo did not know. The woods grew thicker, and yet the flock grew louder; the burn in his legs was excruciating, yet he did not stop for even a moment. Now his paws were grabbing at the ground to maintain his speed, the world before him scaling up into a slope, dirt giving way to rocks. Every second the world seemed to grow colder, the chill of frost upon the grass the only hint Lobo had of how far north he had come. He burst through the treeline into a stretch of white, his feet feeling the stinging cold of thick snow up to his ankles, enough to slow his pace.

Panick overtook him as he struggled through the snowdrifts, his lungs now starting to freeze with every breath he took. By now his heart was hammering so hard that he felt it would explode at any second. And yet for all this pain he did not stop, knowing that it would be better to die from exhaustion than to be caught by the eagles that followed- for now their deafening calls and shrieks could be heard, birds of prey bearing down upon the fleeing wolf.

A rock hidden in the snow caught his foot and he yelped, falling face first into the snow, his left paw lashing out wildly and catching upon a sheet of stone somewhere in front of him. The urge to scream built within him as he twisted around to face his hunters, a grotesque mass of falcons and eagles with mangled feathers, blood and strings of sinew caught in their beaks, their wings stained crimson from the life-essence of those they had slain. Fear alone kept him rooted to the spot, unable to change his fate.

And then it happened.

At first he mistook it for the scream of a powerful gust of wind, whipping around his fur and hair and blasting snow and ice through the area. The shrieks of the raptors were silenced, drowned out by the thick blanket of frost swirling in the air, and the echo of the wind and sky. But the scream seemed to hold for more than a second, much more than a blast, and finally his mind registered what he heard.

It was a howl. A long, beautiful note of song offered to the world and the sky, unafraid of the darkness that enveloped Cyrodiil, meeting the flock with the music of old. And as the howl faded from the sky, a chorus answered in unison, singing that same note of courage and pride. Now Lobo could see the flock flailing through the air, the mass torn asunder from the howls of so many wolves behind him; or so he could imagine they were, for Lobo dared not turn his eyes away, lest he miss the wonder of what he was seeing. In seconds the flock was in full retreat, quickly thrown farther and higher into the air until even the black clouds of ash and flame wavered, meeting the white and blue of frost and wind unsteadily.

It took Lobo almost a minute to realize his fear had left him. There was none left. Hircine was now telling him that he was no longer prey- that a pack was at hand.

A different sound came upon the wind, one that gave Lobo pause; for a moment he thought the flock had doubled back, their wings cutting through the sky. But it was different now, not unlike the sound of a ship's sails catching the wind. And now another call rose up, a roar that would have pierced Lobo's heart with renewed fear if the roar had not felt like kin. It melded with the howl, a majestic call that complimented the beauty of wolfsong. It was enough for him to finally look away from the flock, turning his eyes to the sky.

His vision started to fade, and yet before all became black and warm, Lobo could see the shadow of a winged wolf overhead, issuing one final howl.

With a deep breath, Lobo returned to the world of the waking.

His eyes fluttered open, wincing at once at the light above until they grew accustomed to it. A groan passed through him and he stretched, a yawn escaping his muzzle as his muscles loosened and flexed. For a few moments he stared at the ceiling, aware now that Sirroc was not at his side. He sniffed the air, catching his brother's scent around him and setting his mind at ease long enough for him to sit up with a sigh, shaking his head clear.

He looked up, seeing the older wolf setting down his bag; their eyes met and a smile appeared on Sirroc's face. "Hey, little brother."

Lobo could not help but smile back. "Good morning. Sleep well?"

"As well as I could after everything," he acknowledged. "I didn't even know how much we both needed it." He cocked his head to the side. "You seemed to be squirming a lot when I woke up, I almost wanted to shake you awake. But if you were having a nightmare, it seemed to me like it had faded away."

"Yeah, I did," Lobo sighed, running a paw through his hair.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Sirroc asked.

The younger wolf considered it, but shook his head- even now, the memory of what he'd dreamed was beginning to fade. "If I could remember, maybe. But it doesn't matter, it feels like it ended well." He beamed up at the older wolf. "More than anything, I guess I feel... reassured."

"Yeah?" Sirroc asked hopefully. "So... you're with me on this?"

"I accepted your knot and your love last night," Lobo said, blushing hard. "I meant what I said- to Oblivion and back." He stretched once more and got to his feet. "I'm not taking it back."

With a proud smile Sirroc came to him and took him in his arms, kissing him deeply as their tails wagged. "Thank you, Lobo," he sighed, bumping noses with him. "No matter what happens after today... we'll meet it together."

"Together," the younger wolf agreed, smiling back.

They moved swiftly, gathering only a few of the better skins within the cave- with no way to tell if another Lykaios would turn up, they both felt it best to leave some behind in case others would need to barter it for coin and supplies. Lobo made it a point to leave behind a few of his own healing potions, knowing he'd be able to make more on the way to Bruma. Once they were ready and the traps had been collected, they took one last look around.

"We'll come back here one day," he said softly. "When this is all over."

"I'm sure we will," Sirroc agreed, wrapping his arm around his brother-lover's waist. "This is where our pack begins."

They traded smiles and, paw in paw, left the cavern.