Rules of Nature
Deep in the woods, a man and a wolf play a game. It is a very serious game, one as old as time, full of violence and cunning, and one that neither is willing to lose. Through pain and blood, man and beast will strive to conquer the other, for the cost of defeat will be their dignity.
Rules of Nature
"You have one hour."
Skaelgarr fled through the trees, moving as swift as a knife. Everything was a blur of oak and aspen. He kicked through shrubs, he leaped over saplings, he smashed his way through branches until his arms were lined with cuts, and every obstacle seemed to rush from the darkness, leaving him seconds to react. Soon, his entire world was the cool summer air, the rustle of leaves and snapping wood, the steel-grey bark of a birch as it flew by in the night.
He kept running. His pace was exhausting, and he was only leaving a trail of footprints and snapped branches for his enemy to follow. But Skaelgarr knew the only thing that would save his life was time, and time could only be bought with distance.
He needed time to prepare. His mind was a flurry of traps and defenses. There was bark to strip, there were stones to chip, he would need cords and branches and bushels of leaves. He would need every advantage if he hoped to prevail.
"Run fast, warrior!"
Skaelgarr grit his teeth and ran further into the night.
The forest floor was a spongy carpet of mud, moss and fallen leaves. Soon, the ground began to slope downward, and he found himself slipping through the uneven terrain. Rotten leaves clung to his skin, and several trees were painted with dirt and sweat. More than once, his ankle snagged on a root, sending him tumbling down the hillside. But Skaelgarr always picked himself back up, never slowing his pace for long. He continued to race down the hill, heedless of the trail he was leaving behind.
Without warning, the hillside ended, and he emerged onto the bank of a river. The water was black, glistening in the moonlight, and moving swiftly through the valley floor. It had rained recently--the river had swollen over the shrubs along its shore, leaving only a few battered strands poking through the stream. The water was as loud as a roar.
At the edge of the stream, there was fresh mud. Skaelgarr took a moment to stand above the current, admiring the river as it churned beneath him. Then, he began to take off his clothes. Shirt, jeans, boots and socks were laid carefully on a rock. His phone, wallet and underwear soon joined them, as well as the Walmart-brand machete and waterproof matches. Once he had become as natural as his ancestors, he took large handfuls of the mud and began to spread it over his skin. He was already beginning to shiver in the cool night air, but, more than anything, he needed to smother his scent. His adversary possessed a keen nose. She had used it to best him before.
It would not happen again. He would not lose tonight. Not at any cost.
"Come get me now, bitch."
He ran naked into the forest. Now that he was camouflaged, Skaelgarr was careful not to leave evidence of his passing. He ran back up the hill at a steady pace, treading only on the fallen leaves. Not a single branch was disturbed. He moved with the grace of a hunter, already mapping out his weapons and defenses.
He was fierce. He was strong. Above all else, he was human, and that meant he was the best.
There was no fucking way he was going to lose again.
When he felt he had put enough distance between him and the river, he began to forage for supplies. The forest offered a plentiful bounty--he found small slivers of flint, dry twigs, long branches, pockets of dead aspen that were easily stripped of their bark. Working under the moonlight, he dug a small pit and struck the flint together until the sparks caught on the twigs. He warmed himself by the fire while pressing leaves to the mud on his skin. After a few minutes, he had made a primitive ghillie suit that would keep him both warm and hidden.
The work continued swiftly. He chipped the flint until it was as sharp as an arrowhead. Some dry reeds were used to bind it to a small branch, and then he was using his stone knife to strip his gathered pieces of bark into long segments of rope and cords. From there, he began to make snare traps in a wide perimeter around the fire, tying all the nearby saplings down until they were ready to snap.
He was just beginning to sharpen his spear when a howl split the night.
Her voice rushed through the trees, echoing down the hills and valleys. There was no mistaking its purpose. It was not a high pitched whine, or a low, warbling moan. It was a long, sharp howl that Skaelgarr heard as clearly as a crack of ice on a cold winter morning. He heard it just as his ancestors had--huddling by the fire, turning their fearful eyes towards the dark, if only to glimpse what terrors may be lurking within. The voice of his adversary carried far through the night, and it spoke only of hunger.
The howl stopped. Wind rustled through the leaves. Fire crackled at his back, flicking shadows across the trees. The entire forest seemed to hold its breath.
Skaelgarr bared his teeth. Standing proudly, he retrieved a branch from the fire, and held it like a torch as he marched through the trees. When he reached the rim of a limestone cliff, moonlight fell upon his face. The trees were thin, and anyone who cared to look would see his torch from miles away.
He gazed upon the hills and valleys before him. The carpets of trees shimmered under the light of a crescent moon. In the distance, there were naked patches of earth where a flood had stripped the land, leaving a stream of broken trees down the hillside and a dam of rotting wood in the river below, all of it as pale as bone.
The night was beautiful. Cool and majestic. Skaelgarr took a deep breath, as if to drink it in.
Then, he raised the torch high, and he bellowed at the top of his lungs.
He sounded nothing like her. Her howl had been sharp and dignified. He was as blunt as a club, and he roared all his fury into the night, letting it echo across the land. His yell spoke of all the defeats he had suffered, all the humiliations he had been forced to endure at her hands. It was an insult. A challenge. He was human, and where she was noble, he was savage, brutal beyond compare.
Untamed. Unconquered.
Skaelgarr stopped his yell. He watched it echo through the valleys. The night was quiet again, and nothing came in response. Only the wind whistled through his ears.
That was alright. He knew she heard him.
He lowered the torch, growled in his chest, and entered the forest again, moving towards the fortress he had built. Fire danced between the trees.
There was more work to do. The night was young. She was coming.
The hunt was on.
He was carving notches into the trigger when something snapped.
Skaelgarr froze, the edge of his chipped stone still pressed into the wood. The noise had come from his left, out in the shadowy haze just beyond the edge of the firelight. There was no mistaking what it had been. A fallen branch snapping underfoot. Something heavy treading through the brush.
He didn't dare turn his head to look. Sudden movements would spell his death. His back had been pressed to the edge of a limestone escarpment, next to a scraggly line of honeysuckle growing along the stone. If he remained still, the leaves pressed to his muddy skin would keep him hidden among the foliage.
Only his eyes moved. He looked down at the spear lying to his right--an oak branch hewn into a deadly pole, a chipped stone bound at its head. It was just out of reach. He would have to betray his position to grab it.
His eyes moved again. He looked through the trees, staring into the darkness.
Nothing moved. He had fed his fire generously, and it burned tall in the night, sending shadows flickering across the worn faces of the trees. He saw nothing, save for the slivers of moonlight as the wind gently rustled the leaves.
He had chosen the location of his fortress carefully. It was nestled around a small cleft in a limestone escarpment. The stone cliff was steep and craggy, preventing approach from all directions except directly south. Any intruder would be seen from dozens of feet away, and they would have to contend with a maze of snares, sharpened sticks, and hidden deadfalls.
The night was quiet again. All he heard were the sharp cracks of the fire.
Skaelgarr moved his eyes back to the trigger in his hands. It was a small twig carved with several notches. Slowly, his heart beating in his throat, he wrapped the cords of bark around the wood and firmly placed it in the small crook of an aspen branch. As he let go, the bark began to twist and groan, but nothing broke. The trap had held.
His eyes roamed up through the forest canopy. Hidden between the swaying leaves, he could see the thick cylinder of the log he had raised high into the air. It weighed more than twice his body weight, nearly as much as her, and, when it fell, it would be heavy enough to drag her up by the ankle. From there, she would be easy prey.
Every other trap would only slow her down, or just make her angry. That was by design--they would let her grow confident. As such, there were countless other triggers in a tight perimeter around the inner circle of his fortress, all tied to the log.
He also had a special trap, hidden in the back of the cleft. His one ace in the hole.
Skaelgarr's eyes fell to the dark. Nothing moved. Even the wind seemed to have died.
But he had heard something out there. He was sure of that.
He grabbed the stone spear, clutching it tightly in hand as he emerged from the thickets of honeysuckle. Slowly, always keeping his stance firm on the mossy floor, he walked towards the fire. He had placed it deliberately out past the edge of his shelter. It was a beacon. Something to lure her in.
He took every step carefully, never taking his eyes off the darkness. Fire reflected a dull light off the tip of his chipped stone. Wet moss squirmed through his toes.
There was no sound. There was no movement. When he was standing next to the flames, feeling their warmth through the leaves on his skin, a log cracked open, spitting embers up through the smoke and into the night. For a moment, the light grew brighter, and he saw further into the forest. There was nothing out there.
Skaelgarr's breath turned into a sigh of relief. He was just beginning to throw another branch into the fire when something growled behind him.
He turned, already raising his spear. In the smoke and shadow, all he saw was a wall of dark grey fur rushing through the trees, already close enough to kill. Her snarl cut him to the bone. It took all his courage just to stand his ground.
But there was a rush of leaves and a sharp snap of wood. Her snarl turned to a yelp as his snare wrapped around her ankle. As the log crashed to the ground, she was lifted bodily off the ground, flailing upside down and unable to grab anything but open air.
She struggled against the ankle trap, swinging wildly through the air. Skaelgarr stepped forward, watching his foe over the tip of his spear.
The wolfess was nearly as large as the tree that held her aloft. Her teeth reflected the fire, and her eyes held a dancing mixture of moonlight, holding his shadow in their gaze. Silver grey curls of her mane fell past her snout. Her garments were strange--a grid-like pattern of red and black for her shirt, a rough blue fabric for pants. They did not appear to be the garb of the huntress, but the growl coming from deep in her chest made her intentions clear. Even upside down, she was a fearsome threat, and Skaelgarr was careful to approach with caution.
"Well done, warrior." Her voice was as rough as a saw. "My prey grows more clever with every night."
"Hark!" he shouted. "What is your name, foul beast, so that I may write it on your grave."
The wolfess grinned, swaying back and forth in the air. "My name is Kivela, little rabbit, and before the night is through, I will have you screaming it to the moon."
Skaelgarr took another step forward, spear held tight. "Not again. You will taste defeat this night, Kivela, I swear on my ancestors."
"Bold words, warrior. But you cannot escape--"
She paused when he took another step closer, looking him up and down.
"What is it?" Skaelgarr asked. "Spit it out before I end your life."
"Kyle, are you naked?"
"My name is not Kyle!" Kyle shouted. "I am Skaelgarr! Shield of the night! Warrior of man! And I have shed my clothes so that I may follow your example, foul beast!" He aimed his spear at her chest. "Like you, I will move like an animal, I will prey on your fear, and, once I have bested you in combat, I will_feel the kill!_"
Morgan cracked up laughing.
"Character!"
"Sorry." She cleared her throat, looked at him, let her snout grow toothy with another snort, and cleared her throat again. "I am impressed, Skaelgarr. Clearly, you are a fearsome opponent."
He bared his teeth, feeling the fire grow tall behind him.
The glint of Kivela's eyes blended with the moonlight. "Oh, I smell a prime hunt tonight." She made a show of licking her chops. "And my victory will taste all the sweeter for it."
Skaelgarr had talked long enough. With a single bound, he rushed forward and thrust his spear at her chest.
He hit nothing but air. In a single motion, she flexed away from his jab, curled herself up into a ball, and used her claws to slice through the corded bark holding her aloft. The tufts of her dark grey mane reflected the moonlight as she completed her flip, landing solidly back on her feet. When Skaelgarr pulled his spear back, ready to thrust again, she snarled, loosing a growl as deep as thunder. He stepped back, and she advanced, bearing teeth and claw.
"Warrior!"
Skaelgarr retreated another step, feeling sweat worm through his armor of mud and leaves.
"Face me, warrior!"
She swiped at his spear, nearly slapping off the stone. He jabbed, she dodged. Wind hissed through the trees.
Skaelgarr felt the fire grow hot at his back. Kivela stopped her advance, hackles bristling like thorns. She had more than a head of height on him, almost as much reach as his spear, and a snarl on her face that could've gutted a bear with a single look. Skaelgarr swallowed a sharp knot of fear and held his ground.
Slowly, her eyes roamed around the floor of his fortress, noting the sharpened palisades, rock walls, and bent saplings. A careful raise of her foot caught the edge of the tripwire just in front of her--when she tugged on it, the net lying beneath the leaves was pulled from hiding. Skaelgarr didn't hide his look of disappointment.
"Clever." She stepped backwards from his net, her snarl slicing its way into a grin. "I see your challenge, Skaelgarr. I will grant you the honor of matching it."
She ripped open the buttons on her flannel shirt, tossing it to the mossy floor. Her jeans soon followed, followed by a digitigrade set of boots, socks, iPhone, wallet, and car keys. With a sharp glint in her eyes, she unclasped her bra and tossed it at Skaelgarr. He swatted it with the haft of his spear, as well as the set of panties that followed.
Kivela bared her naked form with a look of pride. Her breasts swung free in the firelight, and Skaelgarr's eyes roamed over the soft white fur of her belly, falling down to. . . .
"Is that a look of surrender?"
His grip tightened on his spear. "Never! I shall not be tempted by your tits, foul beast!"
"Character!"
"W-what?"
"Don't say tits," Morgan said. "A caveman wouldn't use that word."
"Wouldn't they? I mean, like--"
"Character!"
"Fine!" Skaelgarr shouted. "Your form is hideous to me, demon! I curse your attempts at seduction! You and your--your--" He struggled to focus on her face. "Your_foul orbs_! Let us battle now, or begone from my sight!"
Her grin held a sharp line of teeth. Slowly, without taking her gaze from him, she paced backwards, shadows growing deeper on her face. "I see my conquest will not be as easy as the others. You have grown strong and brave."
Skaelgarr took a step forward, cracking the dry mud on his skin.
Kivela retreated back into the darkness between the trees. After a moment, all he could see was the reflective glimmer of her eyes. Her gaze was an amber glow in the night, one that spoke of focus and hunger. "I meant what I told you, little rabbit."
"And what was that, demon?"
Her eyes never left his face. "Before the dawn comes, I will have you screaming my name."
She vanished in the smoke and wind. Behind him, the fire gave a sharp crack. Skaelgarr realized that his hands were painfully tight around his spear. He took them off one at a time, flexing the fingers and peering out into the forest.
Out there, beyond the fire, he saw nothing. Trees, moss, and moonlight. The night was calm and silent. He might've been alone.
He had no doubt of the truth.
After applying more mud and leaves to his skin, Skaelgarr set to work again, using the sharp edge of his flint to strip bark and branch alike.
He would need more traps. Many more traps.
The night was going to be long.
Skaelgarr waited in the trees, ready to strike.
He was perched along the branches between two large oaks. His heels rested on the rough bark, his leaf-covered body blended into the foliage, and his spear was held like a bolt of lightning above the ground. From this angle, he had a perfect position to attack if she climbed up the hill to the southwest, and a shrouded enough position with which to flank her if she approached from the thickets to the southeast.
The fire was a distant glow off to his side. It had been waning for some time, and, from what he could see, was now more cinder than open flame. He would have to let it die. A single movement might betray his position. His adversary was certainly keen enough to spot it. Kivela could see much better than him in the dark, which was a fact he had learned the hard way. Several times.
It must've been over an hour since their first confrontation. Since then, he had seen no sign of her. Even the wind seemed to have vanished. The night was so quiet that, aside from the fire, the only thing Skaelgarr could hear was the distant roar of the river at the bottom of the valley. He was thirsty enough to consider trying to return to it, but he quickly dismissed the idea. Letting her know his position was one thing, but leaving the safety of his fire and traps would be certain death.
He swallowed into a dry throat, watched the forest below through the gaps of the leaves, and waited.
His position had been chosen carefully. It was on the outer edge of his fortress perimeter, just about parallel to the fire he had built at the entrance to the limestone escarpment. After Kivela had stalked back into the shadows, he had placed down new snares through the mossy floor, reinforced the sharpened palisades with rocks, and strengthened any cords of bark that had begun to tear. He had even moved several of the hidden triggers to new positions, just in case she had seen them during their conversation. Once that was done, he had promptly walked over most of his defenses, chosen a spot halfway between the firelight and the darkness beyond, and climbed into the trees to wait.
His hope was that she would think he was deep in the recesses of the rocky cleft, sheltered from sight. Once she decided to attack again, she would rush past him, ensnare herself on the multitude of traps he had hidden around the cliff edge, and he would rush in to flank her from behind. If that failed, he would have to lure her into the cleft itself, hoping she would blunder over his ace in the hole.
It was the best he could do. Fighting her head-on would be pointless. With just his spear, all he would accomplish was leaving her bloody while she ravaged him. This way, he stood a chance.
Nothing moved. The night was still.
His saliva was growing thick. Skaelgarr listened to the distant sound of the river and imagined tasting the water. It had been swollen and brown from the recent flooding, but his ancestors had survived on worse. He was strong like them. At the very least, some dysentery would be worth the effort.
He watched the spaces between the trees. Leaves swayed with the breeze. Moonlight crawled along the muddy floor.
Nothing moved. The night was still.
The ache in his legs had grown from dull to sharp. The mud on his skin had dried again, and every slight shift of position seemed to tug at his limbs. He had to carefully roll the fingers clutching his spear.
Nothing moved. The night was--
There was a snap and a strangled whine. Something was furiously rustling the leaves off to the right. Skaelgarr had to lean through some of the denser pockets of branches, realizing that he couldn't see that side of the fortress as well as he'd thought.
At the edge of the firelight, a rabbit had caught itself on one of his snares. The little cottontail was thrashing against the strips of bark, flipping itself end over end, and only managing to tighten the noose deeper around its throat. He didn't know how such a small creature had managed to trap itself on a snare that had been set for a large wolfess, but it was certainly attempting to fight it as fiercely as her. From the sounds it was making, the rabbit would lose the fight soon.
Skaelgarr looked through the trees again. Nothing moved. The night had been still before, but now it was filled with the shrieks of a desperate animal.
It was going to strangle itself if he did nothing.
"Fuck me," he said, and began to climb down the tree.
Once his feet hit the wet moss, he held his spear out to the darkness, ready for an attack. None came. He took a moment to work some blood back into his legs before rushing over to the rabbit. His arrival only intensified the shrieking, and it was soon flailing against the trunk of an aspen, trying to flee in terror as much as untangle itself.
Skaelgarr worked fast. He grabbed the leader line, yanked the cottontail closer to him, pinched the scruff of its neck, and began to saw at the snare with his chipped stone. The little animal fought him every inch of the way. He lost his grip on it multiple times, and nearly took a bite many more than that. Eventually, he managed to pin it to the mud, get a good grip on the snare, and cut through the rest of the bark. The creature was a blur of grey and brown as it fled back into the night.
He sighed, tossing the useless snare over his shoulder. At least he'd saved it.
Behind him, the fire was barely more than ash and smolders. Darkness had almost smothered the orange light. Now that he had certainly betrayed his position to her, he saw no reason not to rekindle the flames and warm himself.
He stood straight again, stretching his limbs. He was just about to start gathering leaves when something caught his eye.
On the other end of an aspen tree, one of his snares had gone slack. The engine--a small birch sapling--was standing tall again. The fire brightened for a moment, and Skaelgarr saw that it hadn't fallen apart. The leader line had been cut.
He felt his heartrate increase. Clutching his spear, he took another step towards the darkness.
A closer inspection revealed that all his traps on the southeast side had been rendered useless. Cords of bark that should've been held at ankle height were now flimsy in the mud, triggers attached to deadfalls had shifted to different positions, and there were no snares he could see that weren't lying in pieces amongst the leaves. They had all been sabotaged. An entire section of his fortress rendered defenseless.
Skaelgarr remembered having to lean over to see the rabbit. He hadn't been able to see this side as well as he'd thought.
"Oh, fuck," he said.
There was a growl behind him.
He whirled around, spear at the ready. There was a brief impression of dark grey fur before the fire gave a sharp hiss, dying in a cloud of steam.
Water. She'd gone to the river.
"Fuck!" Kyle screamed, and ran for the escarpment.
He sprinted through the darkened trees. There were heavy footfalls behind him, dull as thunder but rapid in pace. Her snarl seemed as sharp as her claws. Skaelgarr ran through oak and aspen, moss and leaf, slapping branches and leaping over roots. His only hope laid inside the inner cliff.
"Warrior!"
He ran. She closed the distance.
Heavy footfalls. Rapid breath.
Snapping branch. A snarl, a gust of wind at his back, the impression of claws--
Something cracked. Kivela's roar was sharp with pain. One of his palisades had impaled her in the flank. Skaelgarr kept running, seeing moonlight reflect off limestone, grateful she hadn't managed to ruin all his traps.
There was another crack, louder than the first. Her snarl grew vicious. The footfalls resumed, faster than before, but the palisade had bought him a few precious seconds, and it might've been enough to save his life.
He ran into the small cleft in the cliffside. Only shrubs were nestled between the stone and rock, and the lack of trees let moonlight shine through like a blanket of silver. Skaelgarr leaped over the last of his traps, missing some of the triggers by the barest of inches, heading right for the back wall.
Kivela entered the cleft in a flood of snapping wood, blocking the moonlight with her form.
He dodged between the last few cords of bark, leaped over a smooth bed of leaves, and slammed his shoulder into a craggy face of stone. With nowhere left to go, he turned back to face her, bracing his spear.
She was a rushing shadow, barreling through shrub and leaf, grey mane dancing in the moonlight. None of his traps seemed to stop her. She smashed through the palisades, ripping the rocky anchors straight from the ground. All he could see were amber eyes amidst a flurry of destruction, focused tightly on him.
She was roaring. He was yelling.
She bared her claws, leaped onto the bed of leaves in front of him, and promptly fell through the earth.
There was a flurry of sound--a slam, a grunt, another slam, spilling rock, a breath starting to echo, and a final thud. Leaves danced through the air, and plumes of stone dust rose up from the cave below. Skaelgarr could still see the remnants of the net he had tied over the hole in the ground. It had required the most bark and time out of all his traps, but it had clearly been well worth the effort.
His ace in the hole had saved his life.
Stone dust spreading through the moonlight, leaving the cave obscured. He had scouted it beforehand, testing to make sure the drop wouldn't be lethal, but the sounds Kivela was making now suggested that the fall had still been long enough to hurt.
"Uh," Skaelgarr said, leaning over the hole. "Shit. You good, babe?"
"Character!" she shouted back.
He straightened himself, clearing his throat. "Ah-ha, demon! You have fallen into my trap! I call it--the pit of despair!"
There was the sound of pebbles skittering over stone. A growl soon followed.
Skaelgarr crouched at the edge. "Do you still have some fight left in you, foul beast, or will you give me your surrender with grace?"
Her echoing growl turned into a snarl. Despite himself, Skaelgarr flinched back.
"This is nothing!" Kivela yelled. "I stand unbroken!"
Some of the dust receded. He saw a pair of bright amber eyes, glaring up at him.
Skaelgarr gave a theatrical laugh. "That cave leads nowhere! The only way out is up! And I will not rescue my hideous capture until she admits her defeat!"
More dust receded. He saw a tail as rigid as a club. He saw flattened ears and raised hackles. Most of all, he saw fists clenched in impotent rage, and that was the sweetest sight of them all.
"Go on!" Skaelgarr called, enjoying the echo of his voice. "That is the deal we'll strike! One utterance of surrender for one dangled rope! Make it sweet, and I'll offer a kiss, as well!"
Her snarl made him flinch again. "Your offer is insulting, warrior! You will pay dearly for giving it!"
Oh, God. She was pissed. He'd get an earful back in the car.
Skaelgarr shrugged, grinning wide. "Well, I suppose I'll leave you to think it over, then! We do have all night, after all!"
There was an awful sound below, something like claws scraping across stone. Her eyes had disappeared in the darkness.
Skaelgarr leaned over the edge of the hole. "Flail about all you like! It will not change your fate!"
The sound only grew worse. Soon, it was joined by the scuttling of pebbles across a hard stone floor. He could see glimpses of dark grey fur, moving with fury and purpose.
"You have no other option!" he called down. "The only way out is up!"
More scraping. More sounds of effort.
"Maybe I'll be kind!" Skaelgarr found the notion pleasing. "Yes, I shall be generous in victory! How about I offer--"
He stopped.
Kivela's eyes had appeared again. They were much closer than before. Her claws were deep inside the craggy face of the cave wall, digging into the sediment between the shards of limestone. As he watched, her padded feet found a new hold on the wall, and she pulled herself higher, her snout curling into hard lines. Teeth and slabber shined bright under the moonlight.
"Warrior!"
Skaelgarr flinched, suddenly afraid to be seen. Her claws slammed into the wall, digging into the recessed dirt like one might rip out a throat.
He couldn't believe she could climb the wall. He couldn't believe how_fast_ she had done so, either.
"Hear my words, son of man! My name is Kivela! Daughter of the moon, huntress of shadow! I am the blade of the night, a demon of myth and song! And you will rue the day that you earned my vengeance!"
Skaelgarr grabbed a heavy rock and threw it at her.
She turned her head, took the blow on the shoulder, and snapped her jaws in response. Another rock hit her arm, barely earning a budge.
"My name is Kivela, warrior! Remember the name, and run for your life! Because I will have you screaming it until dawn!"
She climbed higher. There was a flash of claws, a bristle of fur. Her naked body was covered in blood and dirt. Every breath was full of fury, and every second was only bringing her closer.
Ahead, most of his traps were lying snapped and useless.
"Oh, God," Skaelgarr said, and ran for his life.
He fled through the trees, moving as swift as a rabbit.
There seemed to be no end to the forest. No matter how far he ran, there was only more oak, more aspen, more birches and moss. The canopy was so thick overhead that no moonlight shined down upon the muddy floor, and Skaelgarr found himself sprinting blind through it all, smacking into bark, tripping over roots, cutting himself on every sharp edge that entered his path.
There was no time to think. Rational thought had been left behind with his fire and traps. There were only simple things now--his panting breath, the mud on his feet, the rush of wind through the trees.
An hour ago, he had been fierce. Confident. Now, there was only a spear in his hands and a rabid, desperate need to hide.
Fuck.
Fuck me.
How the fuck did she climb out of the goddamn cave?
Skaelgarr ran until his feet were numb and mud dripped off his body in streams of sweat. No matter how fast he moved, the forest never ended. There was no clearing. There was no light.
He had no idea where he was anymore. Any hope of defense, any hope of planning and tactics--
God.
Shit.
Fuck.
Fuck.
A howl pierced the night.
Skaelgarr stumbled to a stop, leaning against the rotted corpse of an oak. The howl was sharp, short, and surely no more than a quarter mile away. Once it was over, all he could hear were his desperate pants for breath.
She was coming. He had to hide.
Skaelgarr scrambled over the dead oak tree and found several more littering the ground. They were covered in fungi, yellow and brown caps bulging along the grey bark. At some points, the dead trees had fallen onto the branches of their neighbors, leaving them slanted above the ground. Sections of their roots were still clinging to the mud. There were gaps between them. . . .
He began to hear heavy footfalls. Panting and growls.
Skaelgarr flopped to his belly and crawled beneath the roots. The mud was cold, thick and wet, and he felt more than a few insects scuttling away from his sudden entrance. He could only imagine how disgusting the bottom of this dead tree would look if he had any light to see it by.
But he didn't care. He took great handfuls of the mud and slathered them over his naked body, flattening himself between the roots and doing his best to control his breathing.
She was heard before she was seen. There were long, smooth pulls of breath and sharp bursts of snuffling. He could imagine her tasting the air, catching hints of his scent. All the sounds were coming from somewhere behind the tree he was sheltered beneath, and they seemed to alternate between different locations, as if she was searching every nook and cranny in her path.
Skaelgarr kept a tight grip on his spear and stayed perfectly still.
There was a thump. The tree shifted, and her breaths were now coming from above. Wood cracked under her fearsome weight. At the very edge of his vision, he could see the tips of her claws, flexing in preparation.
"Skaelgarr!"
She leaped off the tree, bare feet pounding through the mud. As she paced away, furiously sniffing the air, more of her body came into view--the bloody fur, the long, bristling tail, the wide frames of her arms and legs. Everything about her spoke of speed and power.
"Skaelgarr!" Kivela yelled. "I have your scent! I know you're here!"
She was taller than him. Faster. Stronger.
"Face me!"
He was trapped. She would catch him if he ran. She would find him if he tried to hide.
There was no other option. He had to fight.
"Face me!"
Skaelgarr leapt free from the earth, bracing his spear for a charge.
Everything was lost in the darkness. Through the slivers of moonlight, he caught only the briefest glimpses of movement--her ears swiveling back, the carved oak branch in his hands. Moss, fallen leaves, a sudden gust of wind--
He struck something with his spear. It moved, shifted, loosed a snarl. Sheer instinct let him duck under the swing of her claws. She grabbed his spear, nearly ripping it from his hands. As he pulled back, she kicked him in the stomach, and the world spun.
Cold mud on the ground. Gasping for breath. A vicious growl, a swipe, a roll. Blood on fur, blood on the leaves. Sideways swipe, heels kicking through moss. There was a sliver of moonlight, a glint of claws, a searing pain in his arm. He rolled, fumbled over the dead bark of a fallen tree. She was already climbing it, hot breath roaring in his face. He thrusted again, struck her shoulder, chipped stone tearing through flesh.
She smashed a fist down. His spear snapped in half. Another swipe, another dodge, another wet slap of mud as he hit the ground. There was a break in the canopy above, and the moonlight grew bright enough for him to see her rip the upper half of his spear from her shoulder. It looked like no more than a toy in her hands.
She advanced. He scrambled underneath a fallen tree, barely avoiding a stomp. The air was a flood of gasps and growls. There was the sound of breaking wood, an old oak corpse being torn into splinters. Under the crescent moon, he felt the sudden rush of air as she lifted the dead tree he was hiding under. Bugs and splinters fell from above.
She threw the end of the tree, letting it crash to the mud. He kicked the wound in her flank when she rushed for him. Her response was a snarl, a tight hand around his throat. He was lifted off the forest floor by his neck, feet kicking uselessly in the air.
Over the length of her arm, he saw fierce amber eyes. Hot breath assaulted his face. "You're mine, warrior."
Choking, desperate for air, Skaelgarr began to smash his fist down into the crook of her elbow, barely getting it to bend.
Her muzzle curled. She brought her other hand over the bare, muddy curve of his ass. As he kicked and fought, she braced herself, swung him back, and then heaved him bodily into the night.
He flew through moonlight and branches. He bounced across a bed of moss, rolled through rocks and roots. His vision was as muddy as the floor beneath him, but he was already trying to scramble back to his feet, ripping branches in twain as he grabbed for any sort of leverage.
Kivela paced slowly through the trees, eyes glimmering in the dark. There was grace in her steps, a calm knowledge of victory. Skaelgarr got to his feet, fell into the rough bark of an oak, and nearly tripped over its roots as he stumbled backwards.
"Surrender," she said.
Blood spilled over his muddied skin, nearly blinding an eye.
"Yield yourself to me, little rabbit."
Her teeth glinted through the dark. Dark grey fur, matted with blood.
"You've fought well. Brave enough, for your kind."
Something was roaring. He could barely hear it over the sharp pulls of his breath.
Kivela bared her chest. Underneath the dirt, leaves, and blood, her breasts swung in the moonlight. His eyes fell further, drinking in the smooth curve of her abdomen, the soft white fur of her belly, the glimpses of pink he saw between--
"Come to me, warrior."
Skaelgarr shook his head, still stumbling backwards. Behind him, the roaring was only growing louder.
"You know the pleasure that awaits you."
All the times he'd lost. How she'd ravaged him.
"Am I not graceful in victory?" Her grin was wide. "Have I not fulfilled my promise, every night before?"
Screaming her name to the sky.
"There is no sense in this. Surrender to me. Find peace in conquest."
"No," Skaelgarr said. "Never. Not again, foul beast."
The roaring had become overwhelming. As he paced backwards, he felt a misty air hit his back. The trees had thinned--
Kivela's eyes grew bright with the moon. "There's nowhere left to run."
He turned. Without noticing, he'd come to the edge of a cliff. The mud and moss had become hard limestone beneath his feet, and the ground suddenly ended in a steep drop across a bed of rocks. Further down, maybe thirty feet or so, the river was roaring through the valley floor, brown water capped with white foam waves. He could see the barren strips of land where the recent flood had smashed down the trees--there were the bone-like corpses of aspen lying halfway off the banks, bulging piles of branches and roots, the great trunks of birches sticking their steel-grey bark out of the--
"Skaelgarr."
He turned back.
Kivela had emerged from the trees. Blood ran from several wounds across her body, mixing with mud and dark grey fur. Despite the pain, her grin was still hungry. "Yield to me. You've earned a warrior's death."
His feet moved closer to the edge. Down below, the river continued to roar.
She took another step. Her shadow nearly reached his feet. "If you do not surrender, then I will take what is mine."
Skaelgarr judged the distances. His mind made several panicked decisions.
Kivela bared her chest, running a slow hand down her belly. "What say you, warrior? Yield or death?"
"Neither!" he shouted back. "I will not fall to your wicked ways, demon! My name is Skaelgarr! I am the flame of man, burning eternal through the night! I am untamed!Unconquered!"
Her grin gained several teeth. She tensed herself to strike.
"Death before dishonor!" Skaelgarr yelled, and jumped off the cliff.
The fall took little more than a second, just enough time for him to straighten his body and plug his nose. There was a rush of wind, blurring rocks, and a violent slam into water.
The cold left him gasping. His body reeled with the shock, sinking deep beneath the waves, and he found himself unable to do more than slap desperately against the current. There was barely enough moonlight to see where the water ended, and the water itself was so fast and choppy that it felt as if the river was trying to eat him alive.
But his determination kept him strong. He began to orient himself, letting the current pull him along instead of fighting against it. After a moment, he found the way up, swam towards it, and breached the surface. He took a desperate gasp of air, barely hearing it over the deafening roar of the river.
Then he slammed into the body of an oak, and he was tossed beneath the waves again. After some quick paddling, he resurfaced just in time to see more fallen trees rushing towards him. Many were dangling their branches off the banks, the leafless wood now black and sodden. Others had fully collapsed into the bed of the river and were only barely visible above the waves.
A birch was lying ahead of him. It had fallen directly along the current, supported by a bed of rocks beneath the surface. Skaelgarr swam slightly to the side, braced himself, and slammed his shoulder into the trunk of the tree. If the cold hadn't numbed him, the rough bark would've been painful. He scrambled up the face of the fallen tree, not stopping until his entire body was well above the rushing current.
He took a moment to catch his breath, shivering in the night air. He had never felt more naked, bloodied, and wet.
"Hey!"
Kivela was still standing on the edge of the cliff. The current had already dragged him an impressive distance away from her.
"What the fuck was that, Kyle?"
"Character!" Kyle shouted back.
"Are you fucking stupid? The river's flooding! You could've drowned! You're just gonna slam yourself into all the rocks and trees--"
"Are you concerned for my well-being, demon?"
"Shut up!" Morgan shouted. "Don't move! I'm coming down there--"
"No, babe, wait--"
"Game over, dumbass! You're gonna kill yourself--"
"I'm fine!" Kyle shouted, waving his arms to demonstrate. "The current's not that strong, and I'm a good swimmer!"
Even from far away, he could see Morgan throw her hands in frustration.
He was really going to get an earful back in the car.
"Kivela! Huntress of shadow! Use your beastly eyes, and behold our battleground!"
He pointed. Less than a quarter mile downstream, the river took a sharp bend to the right, leaving a long bank of mud and smooth rocks. The recent flooding had spilled an avalanche of trees into the river--there was a great, white dam of rotting wood stacked along the width of the water. All the wet, broken bark looked grisly under the moonlight.
"That is where the river will carry me!" Skaelgarr shouted. "And that is where we shall have our final battle, you wretched beast!"
Kivela watched him for a moment, her grey mane flowing gracefully in the wind. Then, she stepped to the edge of the cliff, reared her head back and howled into the night, loosing a sharp note of anger that cut through the roar of the river. The second it was over, she was gone, sprinting back into the trees.
At her speed, there was a good chance she would arrive there before him.
Skaelgarr grit his teeth, stood tall on the broken tree, and dove headfirst into the river.
He slammed into a pile of rotting wood, gasping for air.
The trees had been softened by the constant erosion of the river, leaving their bark with the texture of a stiff sponge. He barely managed to find a grip on the jagged edge of a root--the current nearly ripped him away, threatening to drag him down through a nest of trees and rocks that would've smashed him to pieces long before he could drown. He pulled himself up through the stacks of sodden wood, panting for breath, his fingers stiff and cold.
An hour ago, he had been warm by a fire. He had been armed with a spear, surrounded by traps, and prepared to face the wrath of his adversary. Now, he was soaking wet, numb from the freezing water, and desperately scrabbling for any sort of shelter.
How the mighty had fallen. And how much further there was still to fall.
She was coming.
Skaelgarr pulled the last of his body out of the water and flopped down onto a tangle of aspen, feeling the thin trunks crack beneath his weight. For a long moment, he could only lie face down into the decaying wood, struggling to catch his breath. The swim through the river had left him exhausted. He had reached the ends of his strength.
A howl pierced the roaring water. On the edge of the banks, standing naked and proud on the face of a boulder, Kivela bathed herself in the moonlight. Her muzzle rose towards the sky. Her voice carried through the night. He shivered again, and it was not from cold.
She stopped her battle cry. Her head tilted down. Through wood, water, and the pale glow of the moon, her amber eyes settled on him.
"Warrior!"
Oh, God.
She leaped onto the snarled mass of broken trees. He stumbled to his feet, throwing himself over the trunks of birch and chestnut. There were piles of twigs, shards of wood where the trees had been rent in twain, and it was all so soggy and rotten that it seemed to melt right in his hands. The river was constantly crashing against the bulk of the dam, sending spray sparkling through the moonlight.
He searched for anything, any possible thing he could use as a weapon. A rock, a branch, some sliver of bark shattered in just the right--
He felt her footsteps pound through the same tree he was standing on.
Close. Fast. Deadly.
Without thinking, Skaelgarr grabbed a slab of bark right off the bone of an oak, whirled around, and threw it with all his strength. Kivela blocked the missile with her arms, but the chunk of wood disintegrated against her, and he used the momentary confusion to vault over the face of an aspen and kick her with both legs. She grunted, stumbling a single step back. He slammed his shoulder into her waist while yelling at the top of his lungs.
But his tackle didn't work. She recovered her balance, barely budging against him. A knee hit him right in the gut. He barely dodged the first swipe from her claws, and only his foot snapping down through a rotten tree saved him from the second. Bleeding and gasping, he stumbled back, trying to create some distance, and she used the chance to tackle him herself.
They crashed straight through the trunk of a birch tree, bathed in a shower of sodden splinters. Everything was hot breath and snarls. Fingers gripped at his throat, tore at his skin. He punched the spear wound he had left in her shoulder and only earned a growl in response. She was heavy, pinning him down, her maw a vortex of teeth and slabber, ready to bite--
More wood snapped. They sank further down, losing their balance. Skaelgarr kicked her in the belly and scrambled for the shelter of a slanted tree. As he was crawling under the gap, she grabbed his ankle. He kicked again, hitting her right in the snout. Her expression turned from angry to murderous. As he kept crawling through the nest, the trees began to lift, thrown away by clawed hands.
He kept scrambling. She tossed and shattered every tree he used for shelter. River water surged through his hands, and the drier portions of bark cut across his skin. He was a mess of blood and dirty water, scurrying through the tangle of fallen trees like a rabbit. Everything was a confused mess of breath, water, and snarls.
Moonlight hit his back. She threw herself on top of him again. There was a snap of jaws, a blur of teeth. He just barely managed to block the bite by shoving his hands against her throat, but she kept coming, and she was stronger, she had all the leverage, the teeth came closer and closer, hot breath against wet skin, he pushed and pushed, but her jaws met his shoulders, and there was a sharp, blinding pain--
"I yield!" Skaelgarr shouted. "I yield!"
She stopped, teeth still wrapped around his skin.
"You win. Fuck me."
There was a long, hot breath. She pulled back, and her amber eyes glowed under the moonlight, watching him with a curled muzzle. After a moment, she softened her expression, gave him one long lick across the face, and relaxed her body on top of him.
Both of them spent a few minutes catching their breath. They had smashed their way through enough trees that the river was constantly licking at their limbs. He was still cold and wet, but her fur was warm and dry, pressing heavy against him, and he nuzzled himself deeper into her body, burying his face into the mane around her neck. She gave a pleased rumble and rubbed her cheek against his ear.
More time passed. He watched the twitch of her ear and the stars above.
"You good?" Kyle asked.
She grunted, shifting her hips. He remembered her running into one of his sharpened palisades. "Nothing that can't wait."
"Same."
"Good." Her head lifted, looking down at his shoulder. "Sorry."
"No, no," Kyle said. "Felt real. You're fuckin' scary, babe."
Morgan gave another rumble. "Almost got me a couple times."
"I'm gonna beat you one of these days."
"When that happens, you can shave me bald."
"Can I call you 'little cub', too?"
"Hey," she said. "Don't you ever pull that shit again."
"What?"
"Jumping off a cliff. I mean, Christ, when I saw you fall--"
"Looked cool, didn't it?"
"You're lucky you didn't brain yourself against a rock."
"Oh, come on--"
"Never again," Morgan said.
"Fine, fine."
They spent another minute together, listening to the roar of the river. Eventually, Morgan pushed herself above him. She wore an expression that he knew all too well.
"The time has come, warrior. I will fulfill my promise."
Skaelgarr watched her carefully.
"I will have you screaming my name to the sky."
"Never," he said. "I shan't be swayed by your devious temptations."
Kivela moved one of her hands towards his groin. There was an ungentle squeeze. "I am victorious in mortal combat. By rights, this cock is mine."
He assumed a defiant expression. "So it is. But you will find no cries of passion from me, demon. I will uphold my honor, and nothing more."
Moonlight shone across the edges of her mane. Her breath was hot in his face.
"Uh," Skaelgarr said. "Listen, uh, maybe we should, like, bandage ourselves. There's Neosporin in the car--"
Her tongue came loose. Slowly, she dragged it along the length of his bite wound, and Skaelgarr felt his breath turn ragged. There was pain mixed with soothing pleasure, a roaring heat against cold skin.
"Morg."
A rumble came from her chest. Her tongue moved to his throat.
"Morg, seriously."
She pulled back, letting the cold air return. Her hands came to his armpit and knees. With a single motion, she lifted him off the pile of trees and held him to her chest in a bridal carry. Rotten wood cracked under her weight as she headed for the river bank.
"I think you need stitches."
"Character," she said, voice tinged with a growl.
She carried him to the ritual site.
Up the hills, across an ancient tangle of oak, there was a special spot hiding along the face of a limestone cliff. No map marked its location. As far as they knew, no one had ever been there before. It was buried deep in the ancient heart of the forest, and the path leading to it was long, winding and arduous--but, once you were there, all signs of civilization faded into a gentle breeze. The air was fresh, the ground was soft, and a bed of flowers grew along the thin grassy lip between the tall spires of oak and the jagged cliff beside. At night, the stars seemed brighter here than anywhere else.
It had become their little secret, something shared only between the two of them. A refuge away from the world.
Skaelgarr dreaded seeing it again.
There was a small promontory extending from the cliffside, reaching out over a sheer drop that ran for hundreds of feet. A single oak had taken root in the thin layers of soil inside the outcropping, struggling through a lonely and anemic existence. Around it, twin beds of flowering shrubs laid like an upside down V against the rim of the promontory--he saw gooseberry, pinesap, fleabane, Alaska violet, wild ginger. He also saw the suspiciously shaped dent in the grass below the oak, the place where he had been violated so many times it had become a permanent mark in the foliage. Sometimes, it was still sticky when they returned.
Kivela shifted his position against her chest, hooking the flat of her arm below his shoulder blade. She'd carried him the entire way here without a single word of complaint, despite the blood still matting her fur.
"Hark!" Skaelgarr said, trying to keep his voice steady. "You are tired, huntress. You must--uh--rest here for a span. To recover your strength and tend your wounds."
"Your attempts at mercy are transparent, warrior."
"I am no coward! I have fought bravely, and with honor!"
She nibbled his ear. There was a concerning amount of teeth.
"There will be no affection between us, demon! Take only what is owed!"
"Oh," she said, shifting the arm under his knees, "but I am. You drew first blood. I would be shamed if I let this prowess go unrewarded."
They were close to the promontory now. Flowers swayed in the breeze. Moonlight bathed the hills and trees beyond. He prepared to be thrown down into place.
But she took him past the dented pocket of grass, heading towards the lone oak standing against the wind. Her movements were quick and impatient.
"Accept my benediction, Skaelgarr, son of man."
He looked over the edge of the promontory. It was a long drop down the cliff. "I will not--"
She threw him against the tree. Naked skin rubbed against rough bark, and her hands came to his armpits, keeping him held above the ground.
Before he could finish gasping, she was kissing him. Everything became a contrast of textures. There was cold bark, the rough pads of her hands, even the hard ridges of her teeth as they pressed into his lips. At the same time, her smooth tongue invaded his mouth like it was claiming a second home. Thick, white fur rubbed across his entire torso--her arms, her breasts, the soft curve of her abdomen pressing against his naked flesh. She breathed out, her voice hungry and growling, and it was so steaming hot that it made him forget the night.
It was completely out of character. At the same time, it was for his benefit. The kiss held a simple message.
Trust me.
She pulled back, panting. He leaned forward to kiss her snout. The gesture earned a gentle snarl, a shift in her legs. He was pushed further up the tree. While he hissed at the rough bark, she licked the bite wound on his shoulder, bathing his skin until the red welts glistened in the moonlight. She shifted her grip from his armpits to the bare curves of his ass. Slowly, feeling every inch and groove of the tree behind him, he was raised further and further above her, and every wound she saw in her path was met with the flat, heavy pressure of her tongue. Pain and pleasure mixed together, becoming lost in heat and saliva.
He stopped rising when his groin was level with her face. Exposed to the moonlight, his cock was achingly hard and already dripping with excitement. She breathed against it, long and slow, and Skaelgarr found himself ripping out chunks of bark in response.
Kivela leveled her gaze at the head of his cock. She opened her maw and ran her tongue over her teeth.
"H-halt." Skaelgarr was blushing furiously. "Huntress, I--you have some sharp--"
"Warrior," she said. He felt every syllable on his cock. "Are you breaking the ritual?"
First one to break character during sex had to buy pizza afterward.
"I am simply--" He swallowed. "I am at your mercy."
Her mouth split into a grin. "So you are."
She swallowed his cock in a single stroke. When the cold tip of her nose hit his abdomen, Skaelgarr had to bite his lip to keep from gasping. Her tongue was already sliding beneath his shaft, flexing itself around him, moving to grip him with the same strength and dexterity of a hand. Every sensation rolled over him like a wave--a twist of her tongue, a hot breath, the slight bobbing of her head. She was probing him, testing the feel of his member. He seemed to reach every inch of her mouth as the two lengths became familiar.
Her hands shifted their grip on his ass. Instead of lifting him up higher, she folded her arms beneath him, forming a bridge of forearms and elbows. One by one, she dipped her shoulders down and scooped his thighs upward until his knees were behind her ears and his heels rested against her back. It felt like she was folding him in half from the point of his groin--he had to steady his hands against the top of her shoulders to find any leverage at all.
Suddenly, she flinched. One of his hands had felt wet fur, and came away shining with blood. He'd just leaned his weight on the stab wound in her shoulder. His cock vibrated in her mouth as she growled.
"Sorry--uh, apologies. My deepest sorrow."
Her eyes looked up at him. They glowed a bright yellow in the moonlight. Without tearing her gaze away, the base of her tongue rubbed against the head of his cock, sliding back and forth until all his precum had been cleaned away. When she swallowed, it was a long, sharp contraction that travelled all the way down from his base to his tip, threatening to pull him into the depths of her gullet. All the stars seemed to blur together.
Her nose pressed deeper into his abdomen. She had never taken her eyes off him.
"You can't look at me!" Skaelgarr yelled.
In response, she opened her eyes wider.
"Stop--stop gazing upon me, demon! It's forbidden! You can't--stop it!"
She closed her mouth down on him, hollowing her cheeks and tightening her tongue. In a second, he was enclosed in a tunnel of warm, slippery flesh. Everything pulsed and throbbed. When she saw weakness on his face, she began to bob back and forward, freeing half his cock to the cool night air before swallowing it again. He slid along her tongue like it was fine gossamer, feeling every groove of the muscle as it wriggled and lashed against him.
His back was growing raw from the tree bark. She had left him numerous wounds during their battle--there was a bite on his shoulder, several claw marks, a galaxy of bruises coloring every limb. Now, the tips of her incisors were gently scraping across his length as she took him in and out, just on the edge of breaking the skin. All the pains and aches were beginning to mix together with the ecstasy, swallowed into one large tidal wave of sensation.
Kivela opened her mouth, pulling back just enough that his head remained inside the edge of her snout. Ropes of slabber and precum fell against her breasts. Flicking her head sideways, she stretched her tongue nearly all the way down his shaft, moving as if she meant to catch every last drop of fluid.
Skaelgarr was growing dizzy. He leaned his head back against the oak, fighting down a gasp. When her tongue moved back, slithering tightly around his head, the sharp breath came out anyway, and he looked down to find her still gazing into his eyes.
"I will not speak your name."
With that, she pulled back completely. Several glistening strands bridged the gap between cock and mouth. The cold night air seemed to set his skin on fire.
"I--oh--"
She continued to watch him.
"No!"
She swallowed him again, straight down to the hilt. There was a loud, wet, echoing slurp, and his strangled curse chased it down the face of the cliff. All mercy had vanished from her efforts--her tongue lashed against his cock, her head bobbed and sank, there was enough suction to nearly pull his skin off the flesh, and he could only grit his teeth as every motion brought her chin crashing against his testicles. Skaelgarr had to focus on the swaying leaves above. He only realized he was squeezing her wound again when a snarl vibrated through his length--in response, she pressed his body even further into the tree, which only brought his cock even closer to her throat. It was just at the edge of his reach, constantly grazing his head at the bottom of every stroke, and he would've given anything in the world for the slightest bit of pull, one more inch of progress, just so he--
He was close. A few quick taps were the only warning he could give. With a sharp huff of breath, she pulled back, aligned herself, and plunged down. His cock entered her throat with a single, lurid pop.
His climax ravaged his body, every nerve burning alive as he shot his seed straight into her stomach. Each wave of pleasure was harsher than the last, and each pull of her throat seemed to squeeze the next rope of cum out even harder. At the peak, it felt like someone was pulling a knotted rope out through his cock. Slowly, the ecstasy began to recede, leaving a deep, soothing ache that spread to every muscle in his body.
Kivela started to choke. The bridge of her arms fell away beneath him, and Skaelgarr scraped his back against the rough bark as he fell ass-first to the floor. He raised a hand, but she shook her head--after a moment of concentration, she managed to swallow once, and then a few more times after. A relieved breath soon followed.
She fell to the ground next to him. For a minute, they panted together. Despite the chilly pre-dawn air, he was completely covered in sweat, as well as several varying mixtures of mud, saliva, and dark grey fur.
And, as the moonlight slanted under the tree, he saw a dark matting of blood on her shoulder. The wound on her hip did not seem much better. He remembered how she had fought through his attacks, pinned him down, carried him all the way here. The entire time she had been devouring him. . . .
Wild ginger was growing amongst the flowers. He reached over, plucked several steams from the ground, and began to scrape the fat roots against the larger roots of the oak. She watched him for a few minutes as he used his hands to grind several strips into tiny shavings. When he carefully packed the rugged poultice into the crevice of her wounds, her only reaction was a hiss.
"You have strange priorities, huntress."
"Would you be here if you did not share them, warrior?"
"I spoke only with respect."
She huffed, slapping her tail against his arm. After glancing over the pale silver face of the cliffside, she leaned forward and dragged her tongue along his bite wound. The bleeding had stopped, but the skin was still welted and sensitive, and her licking sent alternating stabs of pain and pleasure shooting down his body.
"Come closer," she said. "You are cold."
He leaned back against her. She wrapped an arm around him and began to lick his other injuries. There was pain and shivering, but there was also soft fur, a series of gentle rumbles, the warm give of her breasts against his shoulders. She smelled of clover and freshly dewed grass.
"This was my hardest victory yet." Her snout nuzzled against his arm. The curls of her mane felt heavenly. "My little rabbit has become a clever opponent. He even managed to draw first blood."
"I am blessed with the finest teacher."
The rumbling deepened. "So you are. But improvement deserves reward, and--" She paused. "Weren't you given tools as aid?"
"Oh," Skaelgarr said, remembering the machete and matches. "I shed my belongings at the river. I needed to be closer with my ancestors."
"What? Why? Those were fuc--"
He turned his head through her mane, looking up at her. "Are you breaking the ritual?"
The rest was unspoken. You'll have to buy me pizza.
"Warrior," Kivela said, pointedly. "I bought--procured_those tools for you. They came at great _expense."
"Clearly, I did not need them."
"Must I ask who won the battle? And all the others before?"
"You should ask who will win the next."
Hot breath travelled along his chest. "You have much yet to learn."
"And you have much further to fall."
The rumbling turned to a growl. "Perhaps I misspoke. Your efforts are endearing, not dangerous. I do not feel threatened by them."
"Your arrogance will be your undoing, foul beast. I am Skaelgarr, warrior of man, and I will see you defeated."
Without warning, he felt himself falling. Cool, wet grass hit his back. There was only a fleeting glimpse of silver moonlight before she was towering over him, pinning his arms to the wet soil.
"No," she said, breath hot in his face. "The stars will weep before I lose to you, warrior. You may have bled me first, but it will not happen again. No one makes me bleed my own blood!"
He struggled not to laugh.
"Do you know why I have not bandaged my wounds? Do you know why I insisted on performing the ritual while drenched in pain?"
"You're scared to turn your back to me."
"I knew," she said, staring deep in his eyes, "that if I showed weakness, you would grow prideful. You would grow ambitions beyond what a furless little rabbit should ever hope to achieve."
She licked him across the face, heavy and slow. A clawed hand ran down his abdomen. He'd been hard ever since he'd laid against her.
"It is not enough that you should be defeated. You must be_conquered_, as well."
She squeezed. His breath went ragged.
"Your body knows its place," Kivela said, stroking him up and down. "It yearns for my bestowal. It knows that you belong beneath me."
He bared his teeth. She returned the gesture.
"Before the night is done, I will have you screaming my name."
He looked her right in the eye. "Never."
As her grin split wider, her hand left his cock. She pulled herself straight, baring the length of her torso to the silver moonlight. His legs were grabbed with rough, padded hands. Skaelgarr felt himself folded backwards--his ass rose to the air, his shoulders pressed deeper to the grass, and his legs were bent overhead until his feet were above his chest.
Oh, God, no. Not again.
He tried to squirm away, wriggling through the grass, but she was already pressing her weight back down on him. The wolf lowered herself between the twin spires of his raised legs. Her knees locked around his hips, and the fuzzy bottoms of her thighs made heavy contact with his ass. Suddenly, he was completely trapped beneath her, unable to do anything but wriggle his chest against the heaving fall of her breasts.
"You will give me what I desire."
She was pressing him flat to the grass. There was soft fur, hard muscle, a sharp glint in her eyes. He had never felt more aware of how much larger she was than him.
"Relinquish your pride, warrior."
Her hand returned to his cock. Slowly, she made him rise, and he felt the foggy heat of her sex long before the lips themselves. When contact was made, there was so much slick excitement and gently parting skin that he couldn't help but loose a soft whimper. She drank in his expression as the head of his cock took a long, burrowing journey through the length of her lips. Wet fur, burning heat, the strain on his legs, the anticipation of--
"I know you want this," Kivela said, every breath falling on his face. "You need only ask."
He reached her opening. Her hips twitched, and there was a slight penetration, a brief kiss of ecstasy. It vanished as quickly as it came, and he could do nothing to make it return--she had all the leverage, she had complete control, and she was making sure he knew it.
But then the moonlight vanished, and she was kissing him. The licks were soft, the teeth gently nibbling his lips. It was Morgan again. A tender reassurance.
Trust me.
He searched for her hands. When he found them, he worked his fingers between hers until they were tightly locked together, pressing deep into the grass.
I trust you.
But, when the kiss finally ended, and the two faces parted, Kyle and Morgan were gone. There was only Skaelgarr looking defiantly up at Kivela.
Her grin was sharp. "Good. Fight me until the end."
She plunged herself down. Skaelgarr wasn't sure which was louder--the clap of their bodies as she took him to the hilt, or the ragged gasps that mixed between them. The speed and tightness could only be compared to a spear thrusting through a belly, but the pressure was inviting, eagerly devouring him down, all the slabber and juices letting him slam straight into her depths. Her rumble was felt all across his body.
She raised her hips, leaving only his head inside, and slammed down again. Her thighs pounded into his ass, leaving his upturned legs bucking through the air. She began to thrust in a slow, heavy rhythm. At the peak, she seemed to suck at him like an eager mouth, and, at the bottom of every plunge, she was as hot as the sun, as slick and rich as a pot of honey, every sensation coming like leaves in a storm.
"Say it," she said.
There was nothing to brace against. Every pounding seemed to catch him undefended. His legs were folded, his ass was bared to the cliff and beyond, her hands--
"Say my name, warrior."
His testicles bounced with every crash of her weight. Thick streams of fluid ran down his groin. Every thrust left a sharp pleasure, but every retreat left a dull ache, and it was all blending together until it was impossible to tell which was enhancing the other.
"My name--" He hissed through his teeth. "_My name_is Skaelgarr!"
This earned him another thrust, harder than before. He felt fear, knowing she was still holding back, but kept it off his face.
"I am the blade between the trees! The terror lurking in every shadow! I am a citadel--" Another thrust came, bouncing his entire body. "I am a shield against the dark! I uphold the honor of all--"
She began to pound him in earnest. Every clap of flesh echoed down the cliff.
"You will never--"
Her breasts pressed deeper against his chest as she shifted forward. There was more leverage, faster strikes, heavier weight.
"I will never succumb!"
She had never taken her eyes off him.
"You will not tame me, demon!"
Kivela found a faster rhythm, one that she could maintain while she dipped her head down to his neck. Her tongue found his bite wound again, and every lash seemed designed to break his concentration against the thrust of her hips. They mixed together, wearing down his defenses, all the pain leaving him off-guard and vulnerable.
She knew just how to break him down. She had done it many times before. She was ruthless beyond compare.
Oh, God.
"Warrior."
She bottomed out, grinding against him with all her weight.
"Find peace in conquest."
Silvery tufts of mane fell around his head. The forest disappeared. All he could see--
"No!" Skaelgarr screamed. "I am unconquered! My fire burns--_eternal_through the night! The earth will crack before I do! The sky--" His breath came out ragged. "Holy fuck, Morg."
"Ha!" Morgan cried. "I won!"
"Wait, shit, no--"
"You broke character! You did it first!"
"No! No!"
"I want my pizza, Kyle! You're gonna buy me a fucking pizza!"
Kyle filled the sky with screams of rage.
"I want sausage! Pepperoni! I want all the protein I lost while fucking you blind!"
"You'll get a five dollar box from Little Caesar's, and you'll fucking like it!"
Her face was all snarls. "I want Dominos!"
"One slice from Costco!"
"You'll fucking die for that!"
"Eat shit!"
"Fuck you!"
She slid up his shaft, bared her teeth, and came crashing down hard enough to bruise. He barely had time to squeeze her hand in shock before she was rising again, finding a slow, heavy pace that seemed to fuck him deeper into the grass with every stroke. His legs bucked in the air, her fluffy breasts bounced in rhythm, their thighs crashed together with wet, naked claps.
"I'm sick of your shit, Morg!" Kyle yelled. "I'm gonna fuckin' beat you!"
Above a snarling maw, her eyes were bright and focused, watching for the slightest crack in his expression.
"You're gonna lose! And I'm gonna fuckin' laugh!"
The wolf reeled her body back, pulling his hands with her, and slammed them down spread eagle above his head. Suddenly, she was nearly horizontal above him, pressing her full weight down. His legs were bent back until his knees were nearly kissing his chest. She began to thrust in earnest again, and every slam of her hips was now as straight as an arrow, just as heavy and inevitable as a rockslide. He could do nothing to brace through the harsh bolts of pleasure screaming up his spine, boiling beneath his injuries, all the grooves of her inner walls burning through his mind.
She dipped her face down, rubbing her muzzle against his cheek as she nibbled at his ear. There were alternations between the pounding and bites, her hips and teeth working in sync--
"Say it, Kyle."
Hot flesh. Soft fur.
"Say my name."
Her growls. A breeze through the flowers. All the wet clapping.
A moan escaped his lips.
"Say it!"
She bit his ear. She pressed her weight. She crushed him down.
He couldn't talk. He could barely breathe.
Heat. Pressure. Pain.
"I--"
Swirling, mixing, rising.
"God."
Rising higher.
"Please."
She didn't answer. She didn't stop.
His face was burning. His muscles were screaming. He was completely lost beneath her.
"K--"
Defeated. Vanquished.
"Kiv--"
Conquered.
"Kivela!"
Her name echoed down the cliff, spreading far across the land. It felt as if he was screaming it for hours, like she had ripped every syllable straight from his soul. Her walls contracted around him, gripping him just as tightly as her hands and teeth, and every moan in his ear only worsened the throbbing waves in his cock, like every rope of cum was given in fealty, and she held the right to control them as she saw fit. As his voice ran out, and their waves of ecstasy left nothing but aches and bruises in their wake, all he could sense was her, and he felt warmth and soft, grey fur in the embrace of surrender.
Crickets began to chirp again. Wind rustled the leaves. The night was cool, wet, and bright with stars.
After a minute, she grunted. He felt her hips shift just enough that he could lower his legs. She pushed herself up above him, and there was a long, deep look in her eyes, shining a brilliant amber in the moonlight. Both of them smiled, and she gave him a gentle kiss, one that smelled of clover and freshly dewed grass.
"Well fought, warrior."
"Well earned, huntress."
She grinned, cupped his face, and kissed him again. The night air was replaced with hot breaths, the taste of her tongue, the short hairs of her muzzle tickling his lips.
"You hurt?" Morgan asked.
"Not more than usual."
"Hot shower?"
"Only if there's cuddles, too."
"Wouldn't miss it," she said, and kissed him again.
She nestled herself into the crook of his neck. They spent a minute watching the stars, listening to the trees sway in the wind.
"Hey," Kyle said, eventually. "We should get going. It's cold out."
"Well, I've got this nice fur right here. You should try it."
"I have. More than enough. Let's go already."
She wrapped herself around him, a hum coming from her chest.
"Goddamnit, Morg, you're fuckin' heavy, and I gotta get some sleep."
"One more minute."
"Don't you have that conference in two days?"
She groaned. "Yeah."
"You got that grant proposal done yet?"
"No. Christ. The fucking leasing permits--"
"You always put that shit off."
She sighed.
"Great," Kyle said. "Now we're gonna go home, and get some sleep, and you're gonna finish your stupid budget plan, and I'm gonna have to show up to the lab looking like I got mauled by a yeen. 'Cause, you know, I just_love_ doing reagent analysis while sleep deprived and beat to shit."
"You're just a titration monkey."
"And you suck off tenures for a living. What's your point?"
She shifted her head against his neck. "I don't know."
"Come on. Game's over. We're done. Time to go home."
She kept looking up at the stars.
"You really need stitches, babe."
"Just. . . ." She sighed again. "One more minute. Please."
He watched her grey mane curl in the breeze. After a moment, he began to scratch her back, and she nestled deeper against him. They laid together in the grass. Her gentle rumbles vibrated through his chest. Her breath danced across his neck. Her warm fur kept the night far away.
Eventually, she pushed herself back to her feet, wincing at the wound in her flank, and helped him stand. His naked body was more bruise than skin, and there was a vast, dull pain along his pelvis every time he took a step. Slowly, they began to limp back towards the tree line, walking side by side.
But something compelled Kyle to stop. When he turned around, he saw the forest spreading out before him. Over the edge of the cliff, the hills and valleys were bathed in silver moonlight, rising and falling towards the horizon. If he closed his eyes and listened to the wind, he could imagine there was no civilization waiting for them. The air smelled of mud and grass. There were only trees and rocks. The stars were bright and full of wonder.
Simple things.
"You comin' or what?" Morgan asked.
"Yeah, yeah, just. . . ." He took another look, savoring the sight of their little promontory and its one lonely tree. "It's beautiful out here."
She smiled, looked around, and held out a hand. "The best."
He smiled back, leaning against her for support.
They walked into the trees together, completely naked, bleeding, covered in mud and cum, holding hands through the night.