Of Warlords and Pleasures: Sawney Rath
NOTICE! All chars used in this story are copyright Brian Jacques, and are used without permisson. The Chieftain of the Juskarath was in a good mood. His clan had the Taggerung. Plopping down beside his Seer, an old vixen called Grissoul, Sawney nudged her. "Here, tell me what all this is about between Gruven and Tagg." The Seer shaded her eyes, pointing a paw toward the two figures on the beach beside the sea. "They fight, lord, but 'tis no idea of mine what about." Sawney stood up, drawing a beautiful knife from his belt. "Come with me, Grissoul. I'll soon figure this out!" Tagg crouched a little ways from Antigra's son Gruven, a temperamental young stoat just about his age. The young otter, barely over the age of a Dibbun, gazed out steadily at Gruven from behind his heavy facial tattoos; the clan symbols that every Juskarath wore, a red line from forehead to nosetip, flanked on either side by yellow dots, and a small blue lighting flash on his left cheek, to show that he was no ordinary creature. Sawney watched in admiration as Tagg met Gruven's charge with a headbutt and a blow of his hefty rudder that floored the young stoat and left him gasping. Tagg darted back like a wolf and waited for Gruven to rise and attack again, but Antigra strode up, grabbed her son by the ear, bowed to the young Taggerung, and hauled Gruven, wailing and kicking, off to her tent. Sawney called to Tagg as the otter began to head back into camp. "Tagg, my son, over here!" Tagg came trotting up, and plopped down at the ferret's feet. "Gruven's not much of a fighter, is he, father?" Sawney ruffled the little otter's ears affectionately. "No, he certainly isn't, and he never will be." Grissoul patted Tagg's paw and bowed fawningly before him. "'Tis a good thing you let him get away, young Taggerung. When he grows older, he may be of better sport to you." Sawney scoffed. "Away with you, vixen, and fetch some food for Tagg and myself." The young otter grinned up at the ferret, and Sawney's eyes softened toward him. The years passed until Tagg was a strong young male otter, quick of paw and deadly with Sawney's knife. One day, Grissoul met with the ferret Chieftain in his tent with an urgent expression in her voice. "The time has come for our Taggerung to marry, milord." Sawney jeered at her as he took a bite from a roasted woodpigeon. "Marry? Why? Any of the young wenches around here would be happy to have him in their beds and for Tagg to sire a cub on them! He doesn't need to be married to enjoy females!" Grissoul shook her head. "Then, the line of our clan Taggerungs will end with him! He must take a wife and father the future chosenbeast; an ottermaid, not a foxmaid, or a weaselmaid, or a ratmaid, or a stoatmaid, or even a ferretmaid, lord." Sawney spat into the fire. "An ottermaid, you say? Ha! No otter will come to this camp, aside from Tagg himself!" The vixen Seer sighed. "Have Eefera and Vallug Bowbeast go and capture a fresh young ottermaid, then, a proper young riverdog, not a sea otter. They are much too wild and
" Sawney's irate snarl cut off her words. "Then what happens, after Eefera and Vallug capture a young river ottermaid? Does Tagg go to her and put his fruit in her belly? Or does he have to marry her first?" Grissoul smiled. "Whatever you wish, sire, but the Taggerung must father a future Taggerung by the next full moon, or, my omens tell me, all will be lost for the Juskarath!" Tagg stared in bewilderment at the ferret who had been his father for many seasons. "I must go to...a female, father? And sire a son upon her?" Sawney glared at him. "Or a daughter! Look, Tagg, Grissoul says that you must father a cub, one way or another, by the next full moon, or all is lost for this clan. My clan, Tagg. Your clan, the one that you were raised in." Tagg scratched his rudder. "But, there are no maids of my kind around here." Sawney spat into the sand. "I'm sending Eefera and Vallug Bowbeast to capture a young river ottermaid tonight. You have until the morning to prepare yourself for her." Tagg gazed steadily at the aging ferret. "But, suppose she doesn't want me? What do I do then? I don't want to----" His words were cut off as Sawney threw back his head and laughed heartily. "Oh, hahahahahaha! Doesn't want you? Hahahohohohaa!" Throwing a paw about Tagg's muscled shoulders, the Juskarath Chieftain wiped tears of merriment from his eyes. "I though you'd know by now, Tagg. Remember when you were younger, when I had ferretmaids brought to my tent?" Tagg nodded slowly. "But, what----" Sawney grinned widely. "They didn't want me, either, but, since I'm their leader, every clanbeast must obey me." Tagg digested this information for a moment, then his dark eyes widened. "You mean you.....? Father!" Sawney nodded. "Aye. It was worth it though. Look, Tagg. Take a gander at that female ferret over there, the one with the young daughter. That's one of the females I sired cubs on; her little one is also my daughter." Tagg stared in awe and shock at the little ferretmaid gathering mussels with her mother, then turned to Sawney. "I...I must go now, father. I'll see you...tomorrow." Sawney watched the tall, sinewy figure lope off into the darkness, then looked back to where the she-ferret and her daughter were just finishing picking clams and mussels from the sand. "Tengara!" The ferret looked up, seeing who it was, then scurried over. "Yes, milord?" Sawney's slitted yellow eyes traveled down her lean body, then moved over to Tengara's young, fresh daughter, Mulla. "I want to have a talk with you, Mulla. Come with me." Tengara stared after them as Sawney grasped Mulla's shoulder and hurried her off over the dunes to his tent, and realized what the ferret who had taken her first had in mind. Tears filled her eyes and she rushed away into the blackness to await Mulla's painful return in her tent. The dawn came with the twittering of songbirds in the treetops. Racing it were Eefera and Vallug Bowbeast, two hard, toughened weasels. They dragged a frightened young ottermaid behind them, tied with rough ropes and gagged with her own belt. Upon entering the campsite, the two were greeted by Sawney himself, who ordered that food be brought for them. A couple of old female stoats dragged the unfortunate prisoner away. Sawney clapped Eefera on the back and shook Vallug's paw. "Well done! Now, one question; is she fresh?" Through a mouthful of roasted woodpigeon, Eefera nodded, slopping dark red wine to chase the bite of meat down. "Yes, milord. We checked." Sawney laughed, handing Eefera the flask of wine. "Good! She'll make a fine young wench for the Taggerung, then." The ferret Chieftain held Vallug's paw back as the weasel reached for a farl of fresh-baked bread. "Where did you kidnap her? From which holt?" Vallug grinned evilly. "That 'un's from no holt, sire. We found her wandering around the pine copse a few hours from here, sobbing and lost. Well, we trussed her up like an old bird and towed her back, and here we are!" Sawney cuffed the weasel and roared in his face. "Of course she's from a holt, addlebrain!" Eefera spoke up before Sawney ordered Vallug slain or worse. "We found the young 'un half a day from a stream, the one that runs through the pine forest. She's probably from the Willowsleek Holt." Sawney grinned, but his paw strayed close to his lethal knife. "Did you cover your tracks?" Eefera nodded. "Aye, sire. Not a trace left." The Juskarath Chieftain's face broke into a smile, and he strode off, tossing his blade into the air and catching it deftly. Eefera smacked Vallug's paw as he reached again for the bread. "Fool! Of course the ottermaid's from a holt! Because of your stupidity, I had to make up a story for Sawney!" Vallug grabbed the bread and stuffed a piece in his mouth, snarling around it." You mean you lied. Oh, does that make you feel bad? Ha!" The two stoatwives clucked their tongues approvingly as they disrobed the young ottermaid. "Waal, waal, lookee what we got 'ere. A real fine one!" The young otter tried to clutch her clothing to her slender body, but one of the old stoats yanked it away. "Gimme that, otter. You won't be needin' it 'round 'ere." The maid allowed them to stand her on a flat rock and dump a basinful of cold water over her head, then they began to scrub her hard, all over, paying special attention to her breasts, thighs, and private areas. She shivered as they murmured about a malebeast called Taggerung, and what he was going to do to her. Finally, when they were done, they splashed a fresh basin of water over her head and dragged her back to where she had been before. Pulling a light blue cloth from a small chest, the two stoatwives draped the young ottermaid in it, arranging the semi-transparent fabric so that it displayed hints of charm all about her body. One of the crones grinned, revealing snaggled, discolored stumps of teeth. "He'll like yer fer shure, young 'un." The other nodded and covered the ottermaid's head and face with a light veil that allowed her to see out, but did not let anybeast see inside. Then, stunned at how dark it had become, the maid was dragged out behind a large crowd that faced a huge tent and waited there between the two old hags, shuddering as she imagined her fate at the paws of these vermin. Tagg waited inside the tent, just behind the tentflap, ready to throw it open and show himself to the Juskarath that were gathered outside. He wondered about the ottermaid he was about to service. What was she like? Would she be so scared that he would have to take her by force, like Sawney had instructed him to? Was she pretty? As was custom with a clan marriage, the two going to be wedded could not see each other for a day and a night. They were then placed together in a special tent that night, while the clanbeasts feasted outside and shouted encouragement and coarse advice at the malebeast inside the tent. Tagg sighed. Earlier, Grissoul had come to him and dipped her paws in dark red dye, red the color of blood. She had sprinkled blue powder over his head and chanted in mumbling tones as she pressed her paws to his chest. When she pulled them away, the imprints of the Seer's two paws were marked clearly upon his muscled chest. Tagg didn't understand the whole ceremony at first; then, he remembered Sawney's explanation that the foxes possessed the power of Lord Vulpuz, ruler of Hellgates, who was a wolf. This power, the ferret said, would bring strength to a male's body and virility to his loins if he wore the mark of a fox's paws. Tagg was still puzzled as to Grissoul's last move. Heating a wooden splinter in the fire, she carved intricate lines and circles into his flesh. Tagg had not winced or cried out once. Finally, the old Seer washed her paws in a basin of hot water, removing the last traces of red dye, and then plunged them into a pot of dark green pigment. Working skillfully, she painted the circles and swirls she had cut into his chest. Before she left, Grissoul had said, "The symbols will give you power, Taggerung. Use it well." Now, Tagg stifled the urge to reach up a paw and scratch at the markings, which stung and ached like fire. He wondered if the pain would go away sometime during the night, and knew that if he asked in the morning, Grissoul would tell him what it all meant. Suddenly, Tagg snapped out of his reverie as the drums began to sound. Hooded Juskarath beat the drums, and the assembled clanbeasts raised a shout. "Zann Juskarath Taggerung! Zann Juskarath Taggerung! Zann Juskarath Taggeruuuuuuung!" They cheered even louder as Tagg pulled the tentflap aside and stepped out into the firelight, the flickering flames illuminating his tattooed face and body and making him look savage and fierce. Sawney stepped to his side, wearing a long dark blue robe and with his bare chest painted in a similar fashion. "Bring the maid forth." The crowd parted and two cold-eyed foxes grabbed the ottermaid's arms. She stiffened as they began to drag her forward. "No! No! Please!" The foxes ignored her, muscle rippling beneath their furred skin and heavy facial tattoos as they forced her onward. Tagg was shocked by their treatment, but kept his painted face immobile, and stared at the ottermaid's veiled front coolly. Sawney waved his long knife in the air, and shouted, "The omens have brought these two together for a reason! Grissoul!" The vixen came in answer to her name, draped in barkcloth, upon which symbols were painted, and baring redcolored fangs. Grabbing a pawful of yellow powder from beneath her tunic, Grissoul shook in over the head of the two otters, chanting, "Oh he who rules Dark Forest gates Let him be pleased with our praise If this Taggerung be a traitor Let him reject this beautiful bait, sir Let him sire another son A chosenbeast A Taggerung!" Grissoul howled the last words and flung the rest of her powder into the fire. Immediately, a sheet of flame shot up, provoking gasps and screams from the unwary Juskarath. Sawney threw up his paws. "It is an sign! The Taggerung will father a son tonight!" Taking this signal, Tagg backed into the tent. The foxes who had dragged the ottermaid forward now thrust her into the special shelter, and the clan shouted with joy, then moved off a little ways to enjoy the feast and begin the loud, teasing remarks and lewd yells of advice. Tagg faced the shaking ottermaid and gently lifted her veil. He caught his breath quietly as he gazed into the most beautiful face he had ever seen. The young maiden stared back at him, seeing the handsome features and dark eyes behind the heavy face tattoos. They gazed at each other for some time, barely breathing, until Tagg broke the silence. "What is your name, pretty one?" The ottermaid jumped at the sound of his voice, then recovered sufficiently to answer. "S-Streamflower, lord." Tagg smiled. "I'm not a lord. My full name is Zann Juskarath Taggerung, but you can call me Tagg." Streamflower managed a shaky smile. "Thank you....Tagg." Aware of the tension in the room and realizing what he must do to the young ottermaid, Tagg rubbed the back of his neck. "I....I'm sure you know what you're here for, right, Streamflower?" She stared blankly at him. "What?" Tagg sat down on the white-sheeted bed and reached for a flagon of elderberry wine and two drinking chalices. Pouring the dark liquid into one, he offered it to Streamflower. "Here. Taste this." She reached out a tentative paw and took the goblet quickly. "Thank you." Tagg drained half of his chalice, then watched her sip daintily at her own. The handsome, strong young otter moved over and patted a paw on the bed beside him. "Please, sit down, Streamflower." The ottermaid did so, scooting as far away from Tagg as possible, but he didn't seem to notice. They sat in silence for a few moments, then Tagg turned to her. "You have a lovely name, Streamflower. Streamflower." He savored the name, then took her paw lightly in his own. "I like that." She gazed at him, but did not pull her paw from his gentle grasp. "I like yours, too, Tagg." A pink blush appeared on her cheeks, and she looked away. Tagg moved closer to her. "What is it? Have I embarrassed you?" Streamflower looked at him. "I....I've never been so close to a malebeast before, but I do like you, and I like your name, too. But....." Tagg touched her cheek, caressing it tenderly. "But what?" Streamflower reached up her paw to touch Tagg's. "How......when did you....how long have you lived with these ver......clanbeasts?" Tagg chuckled softly. "It's a long story and, quite frankly, I really don't know how I came to be with the Juskarath, or who I actually am." Moved by the strong, handsome young otter's words, Streamflower clasped his paw in her two. "You'll find out someday, Tagg. I know you will." They gazed at each other, then looked down at their entwined paws. Streamflower's two paws were small, soft, and slender next to Tagg's large, rough, scarred paws, one marked with the faded pink image of the speedwell flower, which had landed him into the life of the vermin clan in the first place. Tagg found himself admiring Streamflower's beauty and grace, and, as she lifted her large dark eyes to his, he had the most overwhelming urge to lean forward and kiss her. Streamflower found herself being lost in the Taggerung's deep, intense gaze; then his mouth was upon hers and they were kissing with an utter fervency and hunger, the wine goblets dropped upon the floor. They fell back across the bed, locked together. Tagg savored her mouth, her lips, then slipped lower to taste and nuzzle her neck. Streamflower buried her face in his fur, which smelled of smoke and the wild outdoors, mixed with the aroma of pine and streamwater. All in all, it was not a bad scent, rather intriguing and it added to the mystery of the otter that kissed her now. She gasped as his paw found her breast, and twisted away from him. Tagg let her go and backed off, meeting her frightened stare with a calming gaze. "Streamflower, I'm sorry. I...." The young maid was shaking with fear and the exertion of their kiss, but she wanted to go back to him, feel his mouth on hers, feel his strong paws stroking her body and wanted Tagg to fulfil every secret longing of her soul. Tagg stood up. "Please, Streamflower, don't hate me. I couldn't bear that. I---" His words trailed off as Streamflower held up a paw. "I don't hate you, Tagg. I....like you very, very much, but....I....I'm not ready....I...I..." Tagg strode over to her, scooped her up in his sinewy arms, and deposited her upon the bed. "Then let me make you ready, Streamflower, " he whispered. "I won't hurt you, I promise." Streamflower gazed up at him. All her fears and doubts swirled around in her head, but she wanted Tagg, more than she had ever wanted or craved any other malebeast. Relaxing her taut muscles, she gave a small smile. Tagg breathed a sigh of relief, and bent to kiss her, but a ribald comment issued loudly from the darkness outside the tent. "Did you find her yet, Taggerung?" A stoat, chewing meat and slopping wine, sniggered. "He probably doesn't know what to do with it once he finds it!" The vermin laughed, and then another called out, "Maybe he can't find it! Hahahahahaha!" Streamflower shuddered, but responded hesitantly to Tagg's soft kiss. The strong young otter caressed her body through the thin blue cloth she wore, then parted the light folds and stroked a firm young breast. Streamflower tensed, but did not pull away. Instead, she focused her attention on his handsome face and reached up to trace the tattoos. Tagg smiled at her as her paw slipped lower to touch the bodily markings upon his hard chest shyly. Streamflower placed her paws upon his shoulders as he bent his head to kiss her shoulderblade. "What.....what do the symbols mean, Tagg?" Tagg's dark eyes gazed lovingly back at her own large brown ones. "They mean power, the power of Lord Vulpuz, wolf ruler of Hellgates. The green stands for virility; the red foxpaw prints for the strength and cunning of a wolf." Streamflower shivered at the talk of Hellgates and potency. She wished she had never asked, but she was intrigued by the thought of being taken by such a powerful otter. Tagg kissed her shoulderblade gently, sending a chill through her, then slipped lower and blew warm breath over the tops of her breasts. The young ottermaid stiffened, but Tagg's rough paws touching her gently soon sent darts of fire and ice racing away through her body from his touch, and melted the tautness of her muscles. Tagg licked Streamflower's left nipple, then took it into his mouth. She gasped at the fiery arrow that shot down from his mouth into her loins. The strong young male otter licked and sucked Streamflower's nipple, like Sawney had showed him upon Mulla, until it hardened, then moved to take the other in his mouth, drawing it in and rolling it around. Streamflower moaned quietly as Tagg's large rough paws caressed and stroked her flat stomach, then slid lower to fondle her thighs and spread them a fraction. He pulled away for a moment, anxiety dancing in his dusky eyes. Despite his hardened, muscular appearance, Tagg had never before taken a female. Even after he watched Sawney mount and thrust into Mulla, his heart had been pierced by the young ferretmaid's screams of pain, and he was not aroused by the Chieftain's brutality. Now, gazing down at Streamflower, a virginal young ottermaid, his eyes filled with tears. He didn't want to hurt her! But, he didn't want to face Sawney Rath's anger in the morning when the ferret found out that he had not 'spread his seed into her womb'. Streamflower noticed the tears in Tagg's eyes, and caressed his cheek. "What is it, Tagg?" The young Taggerung took her soft small, slender paw in his large, rough, broad one, and kissed her palm. "I...I don't want to hurt you, Streamflower, and I don't want to mate you against your will." The ottermaid smiled shyly up at him, then reached up, encircled his neck with her arms, and drew him down into a long kiss. When they finally parted, Streamflower blushed a fiery red and looked away, embarrassed by her impulsiveness. Tagg cupped her smoothly, furred cheek and pulled her face back so that she gazed into his eyes. Streamflower bit her lip, then took Tagg's scarred paw in her own. "I want you, Tagg, and I know you won't......you'll try not to hurt me." The strong young otter let the tears come, and lay down beside the beautiful ottermaid. She cradled his head between her breasts and crooned an old ottersong to him. "When the storms of life approach, Lean on me When the water comes past your toes Jump to me When the rainy nights flash with lightning, And it's really rather frightening, Come to me And when the old owl calls Hooo And you don't know what to do I'll be there For you Tagg wiped away his tears, but Streamflower's song had awoken a buried memory in him, one of red sandstone and a lovely otter face, one of soft voices and a huge motherly beast, one of soft paws and warm milk and songs and kisses. That was the place where he had been born, and that was the place he was bound to return to. Streamflower stroked his face, and Tagg kissed her again, holding her slender body against his tightly, his tasting mouth pressed to hers with bruising force. Streamflower responded eagerly, caressing his face and letting his large paws rouse her desire for him. Tagg lay her back against the white pillows, and gazed into her huge brown eyes, flecked green like a river and framed with long black lashes. Streamflower sighed with pleasure as he knelt over her and worked his way down her slender body with soft kisses, a warm tongue, and his gentle paws. The young ottermaid caught her breath as Tagg ran his lips down her abdomen from her navel to her swelling mound of downy fur, then nuzzled it and knelt between her thighs. He placed a large paw upon her right flank and stroked it, then slipped lower to fondle and caress the softer flesh of her inner thigh. Streamflower moaned quietly and parted her legs as he bent to blow warm breath across her moist folds. Tagg stared in wonderment at her closed eyes and heaving breasts, then looked down at her deep pink flower, awed by the feminine beauty of it. He felt a quickening in his pulse, and a tightening in his groin that swelled his large malehood until it strained with longing against his loincloth. Placing his thumbs lightly upon the sides of her pink opening, Tagg dipped his head and ran his tongue across the warm folds. He felt the muscles in Streamflower's thigh tense and jump as she shuddered with pleasure. The handsome, strong male otter licked at the rose-colored petals again, slipping his tongue deeper inside of her as they unfolded slowly with her desire. He tasted her sweet salt, and explored the ravines and valleys of her virgin opening. Streamflower moaned with delight as Tagg licked and savored her, her paws knotted into the pure white bedsheets. The young malebeast groaned into her wetness, his large malehood throbbing with desire and longing for release. Licking faster at her folds, Tagg felt Streamflower's taut muscles tighten in response to first climax of her young life. The beautiful ottermaid cried out with pleasure, not caring if the vermin outside heard her wail of enjoyment. Tagg felt her spurt of wetness and, lapping once more at her wet orfice, lifted his head to look at her. The maid's large brown eyes opened, and drank in the sight of her young pleasurer, the green flecks in Streamflower's deep gaze darkening with love. Tagg pulled aside his loincloth, revealing his firm, smooth, black shaft and stiff pouch dangling beneath, placed his paws on either side of the young ottermaid's slim form and kissed her, his hard rod rubbing the top of her unmarred opening and further simulating both Streamflower and himself. She arched her body into his, crying out as he gradually entered her, thrusting steadily as his large size and thickness stretched her to accomodate him. Streamflower felt his paws under her lower back, and lay backward against the pillows, her rump placed squarely upon Tagg's firm lap and his paws gripping her thighs and moving her back and forth along his rigid member as he thrusted into her. He sank deep within Streamflower until he came to her thin hymen, then stopped for a moment, gazing into her large eyes. She nodded, her fur wet and sweaty against the pillows and sheets. Gritting his teeth, Tagg pierced her and slid further inside, wincing at her gasp of pain and pleasure. Streamflower ignored the sharp jolt of discomfort that shot through her as Tagg thrust, and focused her attention upon his intense gaze as he pleasured her more. The handsome, strong young otter let Streamflower's rump rest upon the bed, and lay atop her, nuzzling and sucking upon her nipples as they moved in ways indescribable from the waist down. The heat swept over them both until Tagg pulled out, wrapped Streamflower's legs around his waist, and went deep into her until she cried out and bit his shoulder to hold back the shrieks of pleasure. The young Taggerung held himself back, tightening his muscles and pulling back from the brink of climax as Sawney had taught him, the ferret straddling his daughter Mulla, and slid out of Streamflower, knowing that if he spent himself now, he would not be able to pleasure her further, and, with the lack of her barrier and with the many hours of darkness left, that was what he wanted to do. Streamflower lay back against the pillow, watching as Tagg took a cloth from under the bed and wiped her virginal blood from his member, then threw it aside and lay down beside her, kissing her neck softly. She responded and turned to face him, tasting his mouth and gasping with pleasure as he slid his paws forward to hold the sides of her breasts and took a nipple in his mouth. He sucked and licked it, then took the other in his mouth as well and sucked them both. Streamflower moaned and gave small gasps of pleasure as he slid down. The ottermaid parted her legs, wanting to feel his tongue upon her folds again. Tagg licked at her for a moment, then raised his eyes to hers. A mischievous smile spread across his handsome features, and he pulled Streamflower to him. She grinned as he kissed her forehead, then whispered into her ear, "I have an idea for tonight, my lovely bankrose." She smiled at him, beams of moonlight that streamed in through a rip in the tent near the top illuminating her attractive face and bare, slender body. Tagg stroked her breasts, humming the tune of her ottersong to himself as he turned her until she knelt before him, her rudder held to one side and her face turned back over her shoulder, large eyes watching him with interest and anticipation. Spreading her rump cheeks, Tagg gazed at her flower, deep pink and damp with pulsing readiness. He found her little knob, just above her wetness, and took it in his mouth as though it were a nipple, sucking and licking it eagerly. Streamflower gasped and spread her legs farther apart as he slipped two long pawclaws deep inside her, probing and exploring like firm tongues. Tagg slid his paw in and out of Streamflower's rosy folds, enjoying her gasps of pleasure as he licked and sucked her pulsing node. Slipping down, he pulled his paw from her flower and reached up to fondle and stroke her hardened knob, while he licked and tasted her again, savoring the taste of her, now slightly flavored with the metallic tang of blood. Streamflower moaned aloud, and moved to give him better access to her throbbing orfice. Waves of heat swept over her, each bringing her closer to orgasm. Tagg felt the hotness building in her folds, and pulled away for a moment, then pulled up and slid himself inside her. Streamflower cried out and backed into him as he thrust and plunged. They moved as one, arching, moaning, gasping, and crying each other's names in unison as they came together. Tagg shuddered as his hot, fresh seed spilled into her womb and her own juices flowed, then pulled her over onto her side and lay like that, still buried deep within the young ottermaid. Streamflower shook with the exertion of their first simultaneous climax, then relaxed as Tagg reached a paw over to cup her breast and stroke it slowly. Streamflower clasped his paw in her own, and gasped as he pulled his large rod from her dripping flower, then turned to face him. They held each other in a long kiss, and then Tagg's eyelids fluttered closed, and he pulled her close to him. Streamflower nestled in his strong embrace, his arms around her, her head against his musk-scented, furred chest, and their thick rudders entwined below them. The next morning, Sawney ripped the tentflap aside and laughed with delight as he saw Tagg and the young ottermaid Eefera and Vallug had kidnapped cuddled together, bare and asleep. "Zann Juskarath Taggerung!" the ferret Chieftain shouted, awakening most of the vermin outside. Tagg slowly opened his eyes and sat up, then looked down at the naked young maiden beside him. The Taggerung looked up, shading his eyes, and saw Sawney framed in the entrance of the tent, with six guards who leered and elbowed each other, staring lustfully at Streamflower, who slept on. Tagg narrowed his eyes at them, and they dropped their yearning eyes immediately. Pulling a sheet up over the young ottermaid and his own bare loins, Tagg glared at Sawney. "What is the meaning of this, Sawney?" The ferret stepped into the tent, grinning. "Did you do it, Tagg? Have you fathered a son?" Tagg pulled Streamflower close to him, who had by now awakened, and was shaking as she stared at Sawney Rath. The ottermaid clung to Tagg, who draped her in the sheet and kissed her gently. Lifting hard dark eyes to Sawney, the painted Taggerung glowered at the ferret. "I have done as you asked me, father, and now I ask you to leave us in peace and tell Grissoul to get her potions and amulets together." Sawney's grin faded. "Why?" he demanded suspiciously. Tagg held Streamflower to his strong chest and smiled coldly. "I am going to marry Streamflower, Sawney. Today!" The ferret held a paw to his twinging stomach and yanked his beautiful blade from his belt. Pointing it at the handsome male otter, Sawney snarled, "No, you're not! I had her brought to you for one purpose; to sire a male cub, a future Taggerung for this clan! I won't have you marrying her and being tied down, unable to hunt, kill, or fight until your son is born!" Tagg leapt from the bed, bare and unashamed before the Juskarath leader. "She'll have to stay here until our child is born, Sawney! I'm not making her live with those old stoatwives, or anyone else! She will stay here, and I will pitch a tent for her, away from all the others if you wish! She'll be a proper clanbeast, and our cub will be brought up as a Taggerung!" Sawney clutched his stomach tighter, rasping, "No! No! I'll cut that sickening grub from her belly before I let you keep her here!" Tagg's eyes grew cold. "The first time you touch her, Sawney, will be the last time you take a breath. I vow this, upon my word as Zann Juskarath Taggerung!" Grabbing his loincloth from the bed, he knotted it around his waist and took Streamflower in his arms. The otter led her out into the sunlight, leaving Sawney in the tent, clutching his stomach and gasping for Grissoul. The days passed quickly for Tagg and Streamflower. The young ottermaid's stomach swelled with the fruit of her and the Taggerung's passionate union, but her slender form was too light to carry the growing ottercub for very long, so she spent most of her time in the tent at the edge of the Juskarath camp that Tagg had pitched, singing songs and making things for the coming child. The clanbeasts kept away from her, not wanting to provoke Sawney's wrath by consorting with or talking to the one female he hated and despised. The ferret Chieftain refused Tagg's plea for marriage between him and Streamflower many times, but it did not look good for him to reject the wishes of a Taggerung, and of this Grissoul reminded him many times. "Lord, 'tis not good for thee to reject thy son. What is the harm of him wedding the young ottermaid? He seems happy enough with her; let him do it!" Sawney would always reply with a flat, "No," so the vixen Seer let it go. One day, an old ratwife came hobbling up. "The Taggerung's child be gettin' birthed, sire, but his female be too young an' light to deliver widout killin' herself. The Taggerung asks that yore Seer come an' help the liddle ottermaid an' her babe to live wid medicines and potions." Sawney stroked his chin. The prospect of another Taggerung was very tempting, but Tagg had disobeyed him when he brought that she-otter into the camp. Grissoul sat down beside him. "Let me go to the mother and child, lord, so that a new Taggerung will be birthed for the Juskarath." Sawney narrowed his eyes, then spat into the fire. "Very well, but, if Tagg's cub is a girlbeast, kill her without hesitation." Grissoul's eyes widened. "But, lord, what if the girlcub has the speedwell mark upon her? I cannot kill a Taggerung!" Sawney sneered. "Go, and take your potions with you." Grissoul bowed and scurried off in the direction of Tagg's tent. Streamflower's anguished cries rent the air as Grissoul stepped inside. His eyes wide with terror for the she-otter and the unborn cub, Tagg met her at the entrance of the tent. "Antigra is here, and some of the old wives also, but they cannot help Streamflower without medicines!" Grissoul brushed past him. "Do not worry, Zann Taggerung. Go and speak with thy father." Tagg stepped outside and began to trot away, but an agonized scream from the tent stopped him in his tracks. Dashing back, he rushed into the tent and fell to his knees beside Streamflower's pallet. "Please, Grissoul, let me stay!" The old vixen swung her pack of herbal medicines and potions. The pouch narrowly missed Tagg's head, and he backed away. Narrowing her yellow eyes at him, Grissoul hissed. "Get thee gone, Taggerung! 'Tis not for a malebeast to look upon the labour and delivery of a child! Go!" Tagg backed out of the tent, his eyes filling with tears, then leaped away and ran off, sobbing. Sawney was eating a roasted woodpigeon, out of earshot of Streamflower's piercing shrieks, when Tagg ran up. Throwing himself down at Sawney's footpaws, he sobbed quietly for the young ottermaid and his undelivered cub. The ferret looked down at him. "What is this, a Taggerung weeping? Get up, Tagg, before the clan sees you!" Tagg pulled himself into a kneeling position slowly, tears cutting wet paths through the dust that streaked his face. Sawney snorted contemptuously, and offered the woodpigeon to the strong young otter. Tagg refused, but looked up at the aging ferret. "I love her, father, and I don't want her to die. Even when you showed me how to ra........take her by force, I wouldn't. We love each other now, Sawney. Please, accept that." He whirled around when another agonized scream rent the air. A few of the Juskarath stopped what they were doing, startled by Streamflower's cries. None of their wives had ever shrieked so much when they were giving birth; why should the Taggerung's she-otter do so? Tagg slumped dejectedly in the dust, and wept silently. Streamflower's claws cut into Antigra's paw as she gripped it, straining with a contraction. Antigra watched, slightly awed by the young ottermaid's strength and determination. She had come at Tagg's pleading, gathering some dockleaves and poppyseeds to take with her to their tent, because she was secretly very fond of Streamflower, who visited her tent late at night and spoke quietly with her. The pretty young ottermaid was the daughter she had never had, but wished for every night before Gruven was born. He had grown into a lazy, idle beast, spitting and sneering at his mother's commands. Antigra was thinking of throwing him out of her tent, when Tagg had run to her for help. Now, she crooned softly to Streamflower, holding her paw as the ottermaid laboured and wailed. "The cub will come, 'Flower. Push.....push......rest." Streamflower lay back against the pillows, panting, her fur in disarray and wet with sweat. "Can you......not open......a.....window....An....tigra?" The stoat reached over Streamflower's head and loosened a few ropes, pulling and yanking, until a beam of sunlight and fresh air streamed in over the young maiden's perspiring brow. Grissoul had lifted the cloth that loosely covered Streamflower's bareness, and now painted designs and symbols upon the pretty young otter's full stomach. When the contractions came, the old vixen Seer noted them and placed a paw upon Streamflower's huge belly. Another old stoatwife, one of those who had dressed Streamflower to meet Tagg that one night, pushed down gently upon the young ottermaid's bulging middle as she strained and screamed. Then, the contraction was over, and Streamflower fell back, panting and exhausted. Grissoul looked up. "Antigra, get thee here. You, Omana, hold the child's paw." Antigra kissed Streamflower's forehead and crept down beside Grissoul. "What is it, old one?" Grissoul pointed out a slight swelling in the ottermaid's abdomen. "'Tis not good for the young one. The cub's head is not position correctly. We must turn him...or her." Antigra nodded, and placed her paws upon the small protrusion. Streamflower screamed again and gripped Omana's paw tightly as another contraction racked her inexperienced young body. Together, Grissoul and Antigra worked and laboured to turn the babe's head, but both knew that Streamflower would not live to see another sunrise. Tagg wiped tears and dust from his face, and Sawney patted his shoulder. "There, there, my son. Your cub will live, but I don't know about the ottermaid." Tagg sat, stonefaced, beside Sawney, the great muscles in his chest leaping and quivering like that of a great cat as his paws clenched and unclenched. Streamflower writhed and shrieked, the sheets she lay upon damp with her sweat. Omana held her paw tightly, while Grissoul and Antigra sat back, finished with their work. The cub's head had been turned until it was facing downwards, but there was another problem. Grissoul sat up, and began mixing a strong potion of poppyseed and elderberry wine to give Streamflower. "This will numb her pain, but her waters have not yet broken, and the otterbabe will not come for a while." Antigra gasped. "But, she will not be able to stand a dry birth! Look at her, Grissoul!" Grissoul did not look at Streamflower, but handed the beaker of pain medicine to the female stoat. "Give this to her, all of it, then come back to me." Antigra brushed a paw across her eyes at the tears that were threatening to come, then crept off to administer the drug to Streamflower. Grissoul grabbed a sharpened stick, and inserted it just into Streamflower's bloody opening. A gush of warm water spilled out onto the blankets, and Grissoul sighed with relief. Setting the stick aside, she began rubbing fish oil into Streamflower's thighs, to help relax the taut muscles for the birth. Antigra helped Streamflower to sit up and swallow the bittersweet potion, then lay her back down upon the pillows. The young ottermaid gripped the stoat's paw, smiling painfully at her. "I know I may not live, Antigra, but, will you take my cub and raise it as if it were one of your own, a sibling to Gruven?" A tear spilled from Antigra's eye, and she nodded. "Yes, Streamflower, I will." The pretty young ottermaid lay back with a sigh, then cried out as another contraction came, clutching Omana's paw in a death-grip. Tagg sat quietly throughout the night, listening to Streamflower's cries and gritting his teeth as tears ran down his face. Sawney had called for a young ferretmaid, and taken her into his tent, dallying for a bit in the warm soft country between a female's thighs. The rhythmic sound of grunts and moans, coupled with the gentle creak of Sawney's bed, told Tagg everything he needed to know, but he ignored it, thinking of Streamflower's beautiful face and soft brown eyes, her loving kisses and quiet songs. Grissoul threw her paws in the air. "I can see the top of the babe's head! Praise be to thee, Lord Vulpuz!" Streamflower shrieked louder as muscles and tissues ripped and tore, smearing her cub with blood as the child slowly slid from her torn womb. As it was, Grissoul noticed something deathly wrong. The cord that connected otterbabe to mother was wrapped tightly about the infant's neck, and it was not moving. Streamflower gave an extra-hard push and the babe, a male, slid out into Grissoul's waiting paws, but the vixen Seer did not move or speak. Pulling a cloth and a stone knife from her healing pouch, she wiped the membranes from the tiny otter's body and mouth, then cut the cord away from around his throat. "One more push, young maiden, for the afterbirth." the old Seer said quietly, wiping the blood from the otterbabe's fuzzy coat. Streamflower pushed once more, holding the paws of Antigra and Omana, then fell back as the afterbirth slithered out onto the blanket. Grissoul silently cut the cord from that as well, sliced the connective tissue from the babe's navel, and reached for a clean cloth. She wrapped the little stillborn otter in that, then handed him to Streamflower. "The cord was wrapped 'round his throat, young maiden. There's nothing more that can be done for him." Tears ran down Streamflower's cheeks as she pulled aside the cloth and looked at her babe's perfectly formed face, noting the lack of small breaths. "I would have called him Taflor, had he lived." Grissoul patted Streamflower's paw gently. "'Twould have been a good name for the babe, pretty one. But now, we must heal you." Streamflower shook her head. "No. Bring Tagg to me, please." Antigra left the tent, tears stinging her eyes as she walked to where Tagg sat beside Sawney's own. "Zann Taggerung, your mate has birthed her child, but the otterbabe was stillborn, and the young maiden still bleeds. She may not live, Tagg." Tagg jumped to his feet, tears brimming in his eyes. "Take me to her, Antigra!" Streamflower held her lifeless cub close to her, tears running down her beautiful face as she gazed at Taflor, then looked up as a tall shadow fell over her. "Streamflower!" She reached out a paw to him. "Tagg!" The strong young male otter fell to his knees beside her pallet and took her in his arms. "Oh, Streamflower, my love, my love!" Omana and Antigra stood back, but Grissoul still laboured, trying to stop the trickle of blood that flowed out onto the the sodden blankets from Streamflower's torn opening. The young ottermaid winced with pain, but said, "Don't bother with me anymore, Grissoul. I want to be with Taflor." Grissoul backed away with a bow in Tagg's direction, her paws sticky with Streamflower's blood. A tear coursed down from her eye over her painted cheek, and she hobbled out into the greyness to wait there. Antigra and Omana did the same, leaving Streamflower and Tagg alone in their grief. Tagg held her closer, and their mouths met in a soft, lingering kiss. Then pulling away the cloth, Streamflower showed their stillborn infant to Tagg. "See how marvellously beautiful and perfectly formed he is? I would have named him Taflor, after you and I." She winced again, and cried out with pain. Tagg stiffened. "You will die if the bleeding is not stopped, Streamflower! Why did you send Grissoul away?" The young ottermaid gazed into his eyes. "Because I want to see Taflor. I want to meet my son at the gates of Dark Forest, and do everything with him there that I couldn't here, but I will always love you and miss you, Tagg." Tagg stroked her ears. "I understand, Streamflower. I love you, and one day, I'll meet you there too." He could feel her body weakening as her lifeblood left her slender body swiftly, and fresh tears came to his eyes. Streamflower wiped them away, and pressed soft lips to his cheek. He held her frail form and the tiny wrapped ottercub close to his strong chest, and Streamflower's heart beat as one with his. The first pale beams of early morning light flooded in, and Streamflower gazed out of the far window at the end of her bed, which faced the east. Smiling, she watched as the sky lit up with bright colors and soft, fluffy clouds streaked the sky. Birdsong heralded the coming of dawn. Streamflower touched Tagg's cheek. "Look, Tagg. Look at the sunrise, my love.....the sunrise......" She went limp in his arms, her eyes fluttering closed like a butterfly's delicate wings and a soft smile still on her lips. Tagg buried his face in her neck and wept aloud, for Taflor and the one maiden he had ever loved: Streamflower. The colors of sunrise streamed in over the three in golden beams, and he could almost hear the gentle notes of her song as he lifted his tearstained face to the rays of light. "When the storms of life approach, Lean on me When the water comes past your toes Jump to me When the rainy nights flash with lightning, And it's really rather frightening, Come to me And when the old owl calls Hooo And you don't know what to do I'll be there For you." T H E E N D