WARNING: There's a scene in this chapter that may trigger some people.
______________________________________________________________________________
No one knew anything about their kind. What they ate, where they slept, and even how they disposed of offal was a mystery. Fortunately she seemed able to eat my poor hunter's stew. She also seemed able to sleep anywhere. She had her head in her arms on the table that was a bit high for her. She handled the cleansing and the stitches like a warrior, and for that I respected her.
She needed clothing if she was going to work outside and live in the barn. I left her where she lay.
In town I went to a used garment shop and found something that would roughly fit a child about her size. It was a green tunic. Then I went to the place I should have visited yesterday.
My mother had white fur and blue eyes. She was very anxious about me all the time. It was always, “You must prove yourself above your runtiness if you ever plan on taking a mate”. So I had gone on a raid. I had captured an elemental female, and stood up to all who said to just slay her. I had gotten her here, only to have some crow begotten beast ruin her fine skin so that she would not sell at market. I had barely broken even and now had an elemental to care for. What would mother say to that?
“Slay her, host a fine dinner serving roast ajem in my spicy sauce, and make a profit. Not to mention influential contacts who may be able to get you into other raids.”
I didn’t have the heart to tell her that I had not really enjoyed the raid. Much of it left a bad taste in my mouth, one I feared would not easily rinse out. She wanted me to find a mate so badly, but in all honesty no female would be allowed to consider a runtling who only had a small holding and stood less than 9 feet high. No, I would most likely live out my life alone.
“I will consider your wisdom Mother. Please give father my regards.”
Father had never truly acknowledged me, which was not uncommon with runtlings. Over the years he had become very good at pretending I did not even exist. So good was he at this that he had been seated next to mother and never so much as twitched an ear at our conversation. This was normal.
But today his claws flexed in and out and he snarled at her, “He brings nothing but failure to my name! I wish you had let me rip his throat out when he was born.”
I didn’t know what to do. If I were to fight my sire I would lose. Badly. He stood 11 feet high, and had been a battlemaster. But I could not let him speak to my mother like that on my account.
Before I could say or do anything Mother calmly told me, “Of course I will give him your respects,” just as though he had not been in the room with us.
I left. She clearly did not want me to fight him. I wondered how long she had fought this battle for me. I was a coward to make her fight it for me. I was a failure to have an unsuccessful raid. I would never make my mother or sire happy or proud of me.
I found myself at the Watering Hole.
***
I was alone. The bandage probably needed to be changed, but I didn’t know where anything was. I was naked still, but it was cozy and warm in the house under the hill. I added a small log to the fire and looked around. I would rip my feet to shreds if I accidentally stepped on one of those bottles.
He had kept me even after I didn’t sell. He could have killed me. But he had worked to heal my back, and fed me. Perhaps he wanted a slave to help him around here. I hadn’t seen any other Lycants since we got to the tiny farm.
My back ached, but I picked up the bottles. I found a broom in the corner and swept the room. I contemplated sweeping the rug, but my back wasn’t up for that much work yet. Instead I got some water from a pump I found inside, and under a stack of dirty dishes. I heated the water and scrubbed the table and bench, and where my blood stained the floor. It didn’t all come out, but it was a sight better. After that my back said ‘no more’ and I laid down on the rug near the fire, certain he would not be pleased if I were to lay in his bed and have my back ooze blood all over it.
I wasn’t sure how long I had slept, or even what time it was, when the door opened and he walked in. He looked disheveled and moved in a clumsy, lumbering way. I had never seen a Lycant move in such a way. They had all always been so lithe and graceful with purpose in their movements, despite their size. He held two bundles. One was of green material. The other was a brownish liquid in a bottle much like the ones I had picked up. He was wasted. He looked blearily around the room, and then his eyes fell on me. He growled out something, closed the door, dropped the green cloth on the floor, and took a long pull on the liquid, eyeing me. He growled and rumbled something else. Then approached me. I had no idea what he wanted.
Until he lifted the long tunic that Lycants wear casually off his body. He was hard. I froze in terror. Before I could scream he was on top of me. He gripped my hair in one hairy, clawed fist and sniffed at my crotch. His tongue darted out and tasted me. He grunted and held me down while I whimpered. He pushed my legs apart, growling a warning to me. Then I experienced a whole new type of pain, and realized bitterly that I was to be a different kind of slave. When he was done he passed out on top of me, smelling of liquor and other things. I couldn’t move him off because he was too heavy. So I lay there crying, until I fell asleep.
I woke up to hear him crying, like the dog at home did. He was asleep and murmuring things, his claws flexing. Tears actually ran down his muzzle and into my hair. What could possibly make a Lycant cry?
***
I woke slowly, not opening my eyes at first. I could smell spilled seed and drink, and feel the fires warmth. There was the smell of a female too. I smiled, knowing I must be dreaming. Then I felt someone move under me. I opened my eyes in a flash. If I had brought home a wench from the bar I would never be able to meet a mate. On the other hand it would have been the first time I mated. My eyes fell on brown hair too long to belong to a Lycant. It was worse than I had thought. I had mated with an elemental.
I rolled off of her, feeling disgusted. The sudden movement made my head spin and ache. My gut was only moments behind. I ran out to throw up. I heard her scrambling around inside as I tried to catch my breath and thoughts.
Liquor. Liquor had brought me to this dishonorable act. No one could ever know about it. Not that many came to see me, but I would not have any know of something this shameful. I ran to the stream and rinsed off in the freezing cold water. It helped to sober me.
I considered my mothers advice of hosting a meal and making contacts. I’m sure she would know who to invite. She knew many people. She also had a way of making deals and getting favors owed to her.
Favors. I wanted no favors from anyone. That meant I would have to make my own way. Whether it was into a raid where I could distinguish myself, or just my farm I would make my own way.
I did not feel like seeing the elemental right now. I knew to make the farm work for me I would need her, whether I raided or not. I was angry, but mostly with myself. I went hunting. It always brought me a measure of peace in troubled times.
YOU ARE READING
The Wolf, the Butterfly, and the Kraken
FantasyTwo lands are at war. Can one unlikely love change that? Vam is the world's biggest failure as a Lycan raider. He can't even sell the elemental female he brought back to the butcher. But she might have other uses.