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Captured Game

Chapter 9

When Aina awoke, her head and feet were bobbing against the air. It took her a moment to realize she was slung across the back of a horse. She could smell the familiar scent of Celankobi Forest receding, even as unfamiliar scents filled her nostrils. Dawn crept gray over the sky, and she was surprised to realize the shadows of not trees but strange constructions were towering over her. Hluphizwe had called them buildings. She stared with her mouth open at the windows, out of which hounds peered at her, dressed in strange dresses, coats, and tall hats.

Aina glanced down to hear the tapping of horse hooves. The ground was covered in round stones, tightly linked and smooth, just as old Hluphizwe had said. There were trees here, but planted at neat intervals and rows. It was as if the hounds had attempted to give nature some sort of order, which was a direct insult to its very being. Nature was by its nature chaotic. Attempting to "tame" it was disrespectful. But Aina was not surprised that the foxes had no respect.

"You realize this plan is stupid, right?" came a voice. It was a male's voice.

Aina glanced around. A chestnut horse went at a slow clop beside the white horse she was slung across. A male foxhound rode it, tall and dignified and clad in a cropped riding coat. A whip was across the bulging thighs that pressed, hard and firm, through his tight breeches. He also had a considerable bulge between said thighs. Looking at him, Aina grudgingly admitted to herself that he was quite handsome. His red mane was pulled back in a thick tail and licks of it fell in his eyes. He glanced around at the dogs walking the streets with a lazy arrogance and disgust, only breaking his aloof distaste when someone waved or bowed to him. He would wave, nod, and smile . . . then sink into derision once more. Aina hated the foxhound on sight. She didn't understand why until she stared at him a bit longer . . . and realized he was the foxhound who had tried to rape Ukudlala! Oh gods. What had she gotten herself into now?

"Every plan is stupid if it comes from a bitch, Dick," returned an irritated voice. A female's voice. "Isn't that right?"

"Don't start, Evie," returned Red Mane and he sounded quite tired.

"Start what? Reminding you what a chauvinistic prick you are?" the female answered lightly.

"Ugh. You talk to her, Charles. I've had enough."

Aina stiffened as she realized: she was slung across the horse of the beautiful foxhound! The female guided her white mare with stiff elegance, glancing with a polite smile at those dogs who curtsied and bowed to her. Aina was slung across the saddle behind her (like a trophy, she thought angrily), and thus had an excellent view of her bulging hindquarters as the cheeks clung hard to the saddle. She thought of the hound's moist sex in those tight breeches and silently admonished herself. The female was a monster after all, just like her male brethren: she had killed Nhlahla in cold blood!

"If I need a list of things which can not be done, I will turn to you for a plan," went on the female briskly. "For now, we follow _my_plan. Unless you still intend to marry me."

The apparent Dick was silent. Dick. Such names the dogs had! Aina preferred Red Mane.

"Don't the two of you want to be together?" the female hound demanded.

Aina listened grimly. It suddenly occurred to her that the hounds had no idea she could understand their language. Even the female did not seem to believe she could. None of them gave her so much as a glance, though it was clear she was wide awake: another dog riding behind them gave her a lusty wink and a smile. She did not know that he was, in fact, a Great Dane.

Someone cleared their throat uncomfortably and yet another male answered, "Let's not discuss that in public, Evie. For god's sake."

Aina strained to lift her head. This other male was riding on the other side of the female's horse and she couldn't see him. She slumped again and resigned herself to eavesdropping. They had bound her with rope at the wrists and ankles, and she realized with sudden fury that her mouth was gagged. She could not summon magic: when she flexed her fingers, nothing happened. The cold air slapped her fur. She glanced down and her heart leapt: her deerskin dress was torn, and one of her breasts was bulging out, the pink nipple hard and standing against the cold and fog. The reason for the lust of the male riding behind her was suddenly evident. She blushed furiously and heard him hiss with laughter.

"Cheer up, sweethawt," he said in an undertone. "You've been captured by a real savage sympathizer. Ain't no shame in bein' her game." He nodded his long face at the female foxhound's back. "She loves foxes, she does. Is fascinated by their ruins up in them forests. Protests the hunt to the king all the bloody time. Thee ol' king's sweet on her, he is. Outlawed the hunt for about a year . . . then went right back to it. 'is wife loves a good pelt. Queen Donica wears your kind like socks and gloves." He chuckled darkly as Aina's eyes narrowed in a glare. "But Miss Evelyn there, she won't let no harm come to you. Least not till she sells you to the king."

Aina's teeth set angrily behind the gag as the long-faced dog began his hissing laugh again.

"Ah, so you understand me, eh?" Long Face whispered. He smiled, impressed. "And now you're fit to drop some eaves. Smarter than you look, ain't you?"

Aina ignored him and turned her attention back to the three foxhounds, who were still bickering amongst themselves. One of them had mentioned a plan. She was suddenly and painfully aware that it was probably in her best interest to discover said plan.

"Don't be ridiculous, Charlie," said the female. "The street is perhaps the safest place to discuss the two of you. Back at home, the walls have ears."

"Pft. As if your servants didn't know anyway," Red Mane said impatiently. He waved a gloved paw. "So this is your plan? Present the king with a beautiful fox pelt and hope he makes my mother see reason? You're mad, Evelyn. Utterly."

Aina's eyes fluttered open wide and her heart shrank with fear. A beautiful fox pelt!

The female hound made an angry noise.

"My mother," went on Red Mane, "is not going to rest until she gets her paws on your estate. She grew up there. It means more to her than anything in the world. You know that locked garden on the west wing? Only she has the key. That's her garden. The way she sees it, it's her home. And as soon as I move in, she can do anything she pleases."

"But it's our home too," the female said angrily.

Evelyn. The others called her Evelyn. Aina smiled. It was a pretty enough name for a dog name. Among the Ti'uu, a female like Evelyn would have been called White Wanderer. It was a name worthy of a hound who dared entered the Celankobi alone.

"It's hers," Red Mane said wearily, tiredly, "and until she's dead, she'll never see it any other way." He snorted. "Perhaps after she's dead as well."

The one called Charles laughed dryly. "Yes, well, this conversation is taking a rather morbid turn. Honestly, Evie! As if the king would be swayed with a fox pelt alone."

". . . what are you suggesting, Charles?" White Wanderer said through her teeth. Aina thought she sounded furious.

Charles cleared his throat, which he seemed apt to do. "Evie . . . if you don't want to marry Dick, the condition was that you must marry someone else. The king. Think about it! He's been in love with you for years! And what's more, the king's family gave the duchy to our family. At the end of the day, he's the one who has the final say over it."

"The king is already married, Charles," Red Mane said quietly after a pause.

Charles said unhappily, "I know."

The foxhounds were silent the rest of the journey, and Aina knew why: this Charles wanted White Wanderer to offer herself as tribute to the king! Among the Ti'uu Tribe, young females sometimes offered themselves as tribute to Aina's father. It was supposed to be an honor to lose ones virginity to the elder. It earned the girl's family respect among the tribe, and if she bore a child, it proved that she was fertile. Males who married her were allowed to claim her child and thus claim direct favor under the elder, whose child they so graciously volunteered to raise. Yes, for the girl's family it meant social status and respect, but for the girl herself, it meant embarrassment and the losing of something so precious and so pleasurable to . . . some old guy.

It sounded as if White Wanderer's situation was no different.

Aina hated herself when she felt a sudden surge of sympathy for the female hound. It seemed as if she was being forced into a marriage . . . just as Aina's father had forced her. It had never occurred to Aina that a foxhound of all creatures could ever have anything in common with her. But there it was.

The horses climbed the hill of a dusty road. Great doors with bars squeaked open as they passed through. Aina did not know they were called gates. She also did not know they were riding onto Howlester estate. They rode up an avenue of towering trees, which provided a shade of white flowers. Petals cascaded on them in the morning light, clinging to their manes. Aina saw Red Mane flick one off his shoulder in disgust.

The building they approached was immense. Aina couldn't believe it. She expected there to be an entire tribe of foxhounds living on the estate and was shocked by the small number of dogs - all different in color and size -- who came out to greet the arrivals. A meek young female set a footstool down for White Wanderer and an old one brought the female a coat, placing it fussily around her shoulders as soon as she dismounted. Yet more dogs - two males - came forward to take the horses. That made a total of eight dogs. Where were the rest of the tribe?

"Careful with that vixen," Red Mane scolded as Long Face carefully took Aina from the saddle and into his arms.

Aina shivered angrily when the long-faced beast stared at her exposed nipple and licked his lips. He was huge and she felt trapped in his arms. He held her close, his small eyes greedy with desire. He glanced hopefully at Red Mane, and Red Mane shook his head admonishingly. Long Face bowed his head obediently, but he looked at Aina with quiet determination, and she got the sick feeling he was going to have her. One way or another.

"Her pelt," warned Red Mane, "is worth more than you and all the servants put together. You won't touch her. Do you understand me?"

"Yes, m'lord," said Long Face dolefully.

"Now come inside, supper is ready, deary," fussed the old dog who'd brought the coat. She was talking to White Wanderer, adjusting her clothing and tisking over the messy state of her curly mane. "Come inside before you catch cold, I said!" She glowered at White Wanderer, who rolled her eyes.

Aina's heart hammered in her chest as Long Face carried her along, following the others inside the cool halls of the manor. She saw strange statues and furniture, a great fireplace, couches and chairs, cabinets of dinnerware and . . . fox pelts on the walls! The sick almost rose but she held it down. She was trembling with anger and fear. What were they going to do with her now? Was she to be skinned then? Skinned and served up as a pelt to some dog king? Her blood boiled at the thought. She thought with sudden tears of her father, who she would never see again. And Nhlahla. Nhlahla lying in the forest, cold, staring, with no one to dance for her soul.

Aina glared at White Wanderer's back as she and the old hound went away up the stairs. The stairs were as grand as everything else in the manor, wide and rippling forward like water. Dogs scurried to and fro, cleaning and keeping their eyes down - though many of them glanced curiously at Aina. A few males glanced at her exposed breast and she wished she could cover it. To die like this, without dignity, with the nasty eyes of these beasts upon her!

Aina couldn't understand why Long Face wasn't taking her somewhere. He was simply standing there, holding her, staring at her and licking his lips. Nearby, the one called Charles was talking in low voices with Red Mane. Aina was a bit shocked when Red Mane suddenly kissed him passionately. Charles was shocked as well. He quickly pulled away and smoothed his mussed mane, glancing around the hall as if to make sure the servants weren't looking. Aina thought he had such gentle eyes.

Flustered and embarrassed, Gentle Eyes hurried up the stairs. Red Mane watched him retreat with soft eyes, then looked at Long Face.

"Take her to the servant quarters, Haskell. Tell them I want her pelt so clean, I could eat off it."

"Yes, m'lord," said Long Face at once. "And will I get to . . .?"

"Bathe her?" said Red Mane with a laugh. "No. You'll leave her with the servants and return to me at . . ." His voice trailed off.

Aina went very still as Red Mane looked at her. Recognition clicked in his eyes. Her heart skipped a beat as he drew near. He peered hard into her face, and his eyes hardened with fury.

"You're that vixen _witch_who left me in the trees! Left me to die!"

Long Face stared at Aina, flabbergasted. "Why, m'lord, I reckon it is! The very one!" He laughed incredulously. "I thought I recognized the scowl."

Red Mane smiled slowly, and Aina tensed with silent rage. "No, Haskell," he said, his hungry eyes fixed on her, "don't take her to the servant quarters. Take her to mine."