The
Wolf's Head
-
A
Tale Set in the Lost City of Six Hills
The rain that fell in the forest
descended like the vengeance of Nature herself. As Malle ran beneath
dripping branches, her clothes and skin already soaked, she thought
of how she and her brother would use the trees for shelter from the
rain when they played in these woods as children. She remember
leaning tightly against old oaks, the bark rough against her back,
laughing breathlessly alongside her twin as they watched the summer
showers fall between the cover of the trees, leaving endless circles
of dry grass, each with a mighty tree bursting up from its centre.
Back then, it had seemed almost magical, the way they could stay
perfectly dry under the protection of the trees, while just a few
feet away the grass was drenched and the dry, parched soil turned to
mud. More lately, it was if Nature no longer cared for these little
pink things that ran among her green children, and had forbidden the
trees to offer them succour.
Onward she ran, as the rain
pelted her with its cold, wet sting. Ahead, a small cave loomed out
of the weather's damp and grey shroud. Really, it was little more
than an outcrop of rock that jutted from the side of a small hillock,
but in Malle's eyes it was sanctuary from this vicious and
unseasonably cold downpour. Arms held ineffectually over her head to
shield her, she darted out from the treeline into the little clearing
that surrounded the outcrop's opening and flattened herself against
the cold stone at its back, turning to watch the world vanish behind
the curtain of water that fell before her. Panting for breath, Malle
leaned forward to wring her hair out as best she could, before trying
to do the same with her dress but there was a limit to the success
she could achieve. Still, despite the rain it was a warm enough
evening and she wasn't concerned about catching anything worse than
a slight chill, so she stood, and she waited, looking at the forest
through the grey blur of rain and hoping that the summer downpour
would soon pass. When such an event looked a long time in the
waiting, Malle realised she might as well get comfortable, and sat
down upon the bare soil that was sheltered by the outcrop, water from
her clothes slowly seeping into the cracked earth.
She leaned against a squat stone
that sat beside her, and sighed. It wasn't just the weather that
had lately grown surlier; the city's alley cats, never the most
sociable or affectionate of animals, now hissed at anyone who came
near them, even those bearing scraps of food. Her parents always
seemed to be at one another's throats, and the traders of Lower
Flightfire's market were more prone to arguing than bartering. It
seemed that everyone and everything in the City of Six Hills was
growing more and more choleric. Times like these, she missed having
someone to talk to. She missed her brother. When he'd been
around, it didn't matter how bad things got, there was always a
glimmer of hope that everything would turn out right. But it was
months since anyone had seen either hide or hair of him. Sighing
again, and now bored as well as damp and morose, Malle looked down at
the rock she was leaning on; it was surprisingly comfortable for
piece of stone. Perhaps it was just her boredom talking, but it was
actually quite an interesting rock to look at. If she leaned back
and regarded it from the right angle, it looked a little bit like the
head of a wolf. Or at least, like the head of a wolf might look like
if it had been made out of stone and then left in a damp forest for a
number of years. It was weird, but the moss growing on the top and
down one side of the stone gave it a look almost like a shaggy pelt,
and a chunk of some impurity or other in the stone formed a small
patch of red just where the eye should be. It was probably just one
of those things, like how if you looked at a certain cloud a certain
way it would stop being a cloud and become a lion, or a bear, or the
face of someone you know. Certainly astrology showed that, if
nothing else, people were superlative in the matter of seeing
familiar patterns in nature. Shrugging to herself, Malle again
turned to regard the dreary rain beyond the shelter of her little
cave and leaned upon the wolf-rock. In time she grew tired and,
making a pillow of her folded arm, lay her head down upon the rock
and dozed.
* * *
Malle looked around the forest.
It wasn't raining anymore, though the ground was still damp and the
air smelled of wet vegetation. Her clothes were still wet, too, and
cold where they clung to her body. And her body... her body felt
weird. She was in the middle of a forest, she was cold, and she was
soaked to the skin, but for some reason she felt excited. Had she
more experience of such matters, she'd realise it was blossoming
arousal, but to Malle it just felt like a strange, almost tickling
heat that built up from her loins and warmed her despite the chill of
her wet dress.
The cracking of twigs, some
distance behind her, brought her out of her reverie and had her
looking about the forest in a startled panic, but she could see
nothing beyond the vegetation all around her. Then another snap, and
this time she turned in time to see the stems and leaves of a small
bush twitching, as if someone had just brushed past them. The third
sound was a growl, a low and bestial noise that bypassed Malle's
ears and brain and reached deep into her spine. Over the hundreds of
thousands of years of their existence, human bodies had developed
just one response to that kind of growl - RUN. And Malle did, not
even looking to see where it was coming from and concerning herself
more with making sure she was going away from it as fast as
her legs could carry her.
Her bare feet pounded on the
slimy surface of the wet top layer of soil, struggling for traction
and only sheer terror keeping her upright as her body took over from
her brain. Behind her she could hear the crashing sound of the
creature - a bear, a wolf, a cougar? - charging through the
undergrowth and bearing down on her. She leapt over a fallen tree
trunk with agility that surprised her, and barely even slowed as she
landed on the other side. What was it her father had taught her, all
those years ago? Four legs are faster than two, and can run for
longer, but two legs can turn quicker. And so she skidded into a
turn and darted off in a new direction through the trees, flailing at
low hanging branches that whipped at her face, while her pursuer
growled in outrage as it slid past where she'd turned and thumped
into the side of a tree. Within moments it was back in pursuit,
though, and already making up the lost ground on its prey. Malle's
heart pounded in her chest and she could feel wetness between her
thighs, coupled with an ancient and powerful yearning that she had
felt before but never so strong. Tears in her eyes as she fled in
panic, her feet sore and bleeding from a myriad of tiny cuts and
punctures courtesy of the pine cones and twigs she ran across, Malle
carried on through the forest, her legs and lungs burning with
exertion. She didn't know how much longer she could stay on her
feet for, but the growing fear in her chest told her that however
long it was would not be long enough to out-pace the beast at her
heels. Ducking under a branch that would have left her flat on her
back, Malle had to react quickly to hurdle a log on the other side.
Too quickly, in fact, and the foot of her trailing leg clipped the
broken remnants of a branch that stabbed upwards from the obstacle,
forcing her into an graceless landing, with her other foot finding
little purchase in the slick mud. She knew, in that moment, she was
lost. Time seemed to slow down for Malle as her senses drank in
every last bit of information they could manage, desperately seeking
something that would prolong her survival, but ultimately they came
up with nothing that could combat the combined forces of gravity and
momentum that bore Malle to the ground. She landed hard, the wind
driven out from her and a sharp, searing pain in her arm telling her
she had in all likelihood broken something as she hit the ground.
Gasping for air in great,
wracking sobs, Malle rolled painfully onto her back to at last face
the creature that had been pursuing her, and beheld the largest wolf
she had ever seen. The thing was huge, and seemed all the more
massive as it strode towards her, looming over her prone body and
standing above her. Her eyes met those of the wolf and she saw
nothing but hunger there - remorseless, pitiless hunger. To the
wolf, she was not some poor girl on the cusp of womanhood, she was
not an innocent life about to be snuffed out, and she was not even a
poor wounded creature. No, she was nothing more than dinner. She
continued to stare into those intelligent, golden eyes as the
creature stopped and looked down at her, its forepaws planted either
side of her chest and its hindpaws between her ankles. The wetness
at her loins was such that she idly wondered if she'd emptied her
bladder in fear, while her eyes drank in every detail of the wolf's
face, from the damp, slightly bumpy surface of its nose to each
individual hair that covered the rest of him. They remained that way
for a moment, each gazing into the other's soul, before there was a
blur of motion from the wolf, a sudden and overwhelming burst of pain
around her throat, a sickening crunch, and then nothing.
* * *
Malle looked around the forest.
It wasn't raining anymore, the ground was dry and the air smelled
of hot, baked earth and of flowers. Her clothes too were dry and
there was a pleasantly warm breeze drifting past her, stirring what
little grass grew on the forest floor. A voice spoke behind her and
she turned to face a man, standing comfortably at ease despite being
entirely naked. He was tall, taller even than Gerald the smithy of
Lower Flightfire, and as broad as he across the shoulder. Though
where Gerald's arms and torso were rounded with bulk and his wife's
home-cooking, the man before her was lean and sinewy. He looked as
though home-cooking was not something he would even recognise, and
there was not an ounce of fat upon him. He spoke again but Malle
wasn't listening, she was too distracted by this specimen before
her, her eyes roaming hungrily over his nude form, noticing the
slight twitches of muscles under the skin as he shifted his weight
from one foot to the other. Noticing, too, the dark, thick hair that
covered his body, especially noticeable on his forearms, across his
chest, and on the widening trail that led from his navel to his
groin. There her eyes lingered till she felt her cheeks flush hot
with blood. The man spoke again and Malle reluctantly dragged her
gaze away from his loins and to his face. He was tanned, with no
lines or marks to suggest he ever wore any more clothes than he wore
now, and his cheeks and jaw were thickly covered in a wild growth of
beard. His eyes were golden, and looked upon her with clear
intelligence, but also with a hunger so pure, so burning and primal
that she felt her heart tighten in fear. He stepped forward,
speaking softly as he reached up to cup her cheek. His touch was
gentle, almost kind, and though his fingers were stained with mud
they felt soft and warm against her skin. She leaned into his hand
as he stepped close enough that she could smell the animalistic scent
that rolled off of him. The smell of his sweat, his breath, his
hair, his skin, and his sex. This close, it became intoxicating, and
Malle felt her knees weaken as the man curled his other arm around
her waist, pulling her in close to him and taking her weight. She
leaned against him, one hand on the thick hair of his chest and the
other reaching up to hold onto his toned shoulder, and Malle gasped
quietly as she felt his beard and lips brush softly over her neck.
He asked her a question, and she nodded her agreement, moaning
quietly as he kissed first her ear, then her cheek. Another query
and Malle nodded again, her breath catching in her throat. Once
more, the man asked her the same question, this time with more
urgency, and the slightest hint of a growl in his voice.
"Yes," vocalised Malle, at
last, and she felt his hands move lower over her body, smoothly
running down her back to her rump, squeezing and lifting at the same
time and pressing himself to her. Her clothes were no longer so dry,
though the weather could not be blamed this time. His sweat began to
soak into the fabric of her dress as her arms wrapped around him,
while the softer linen of her underwear was so wet she may as well
have just stood in a lake. He lifted her bodily and she wrapped her
legs around his waist, her skirts bunching up between them and
something rising from beneath to prod insistently at the dampness
between her thighs. "Yes," Malle repeated to his unspoken
question, as he pushed her up against a tree, one hand reaching down
to tear at her underthings, ripping the flimsy and sodden material
and casting it aside. "Yes!" She cried, a third time, and all
she felt was a slight pressure against her nethers before her world
exploded. Light became sound, sound became touch, and touch became
everything at once. The forest was gone, and the rest of existence
with it, till it was just him before her, with her in his arms and
his prick within her. She hurt, she hurt so much, but that was
nothing against the feelings that flowed through her. Her veins felt
as though they were on fire, and her muscles quivered with
barely-contained energy. He pushed deeper within her and the stars
before her eyes gave way to inky blackness as she gave herself to his
hunger.
* * *
Malle
looked around the forest. It wasn't raining anymore, the ground
was dry and the air smelled of distant smoke while small eddies of
breeze sent dry leaves tumbling over her feet. Her clothes were gone
and though the air was cool enough to raise goose bumps from her bare
skin she did not find it uncomfortable. Malle looked ahead and
beheld the largest wolf she had ever seen. He was huge, and seemed
all the more massive as he strode towards her, his golden eyes
watching her carefully. She knelt down as he approached, her arms
spread to greet the great beast as he padded over. She felt his
teeth brush her cheek, biting with the slightest of pressure, just
barely enough to dimple her flesh, and she threw her arms around his
great neck. Her fingers groomed through the wolf's luxurious pelt
as he sat on his haunches, and her breasts pressed against his chest,
the hard rosy pink nubs of her nipples caressed by soft fur.
Smiling, Malle sat back on her heels and moved her hands to touch his
face, stroking over his head and rubbing behind those huge,
ever-alert ears. He bumped his muzzle against her chin, before
hunkering down to place his head between her thighs, there his broad
tongue lapped out slowly to taste the dewy nectar that clung to the
hair surrounding her sex. Malle sighed peacefully and ran her
fingers through the shaggy pelt of her lover's back, cooing soft
terms of endearment to him. Suddenly, the wolf was alert and sitting
bolt upright, ears pricked and his nose sniffing all around. He
stopped as abruptly as he had started, staring fixedly off into the
distance and starting to quietly growl. Malle turned to see what had
got his attention, and spied a solitary doe, wondering serenely
through the forest barely a hundred yards up-wind of them.
The wolf looked to her, a
question in his eyes, and Malle nodded in response. "Yes," she
said, and then the wolf was off, bounding across the forest floor
with a quiet that belied its great size. She was on her feet and
following, surprising herself with her own fleetness as she caught up
with the wolf, running alongside him as they bore down upon their
quarry. The doe heard them, but far too late, and was able only to
look round and bleat in terror before two hundred pounds of wolf
collided with it and knocked it to the ground. Malle was barely a
second behind, and arrived at the doe just as the wolf tore its
throat out with one swift, merciless chomp of its great jaws. Blood
sprayed against his face, staining his grey fur crimson and reaching
as far as Malle's bare feet. With the deer's life's juices
dripping from his maw, he turned to Malle and growled a question.
"Yes," she replied, nodding numbly as she stared at the doe's
ravaged throat. Kneeling down as the dying animal's limbs kicked
and thrashed, Malle placed on hand gently upon the doe chin and
tilted its head back before leaning in, her wolf companion mirroring
her and watching her curiously. Her loose hair dangled down into the
doe's raw wound as blood continued to spurt freely, though with
rapidly less and less force as life fled from the stricken creature.
"Yes," said Malle again, before lowering her head and sinking her
teeth into the hot, wet flesh. Her vision blurred, and everything
else in the world went away save for her and her lover, and the food
before them. Her sharp teeth tore at the deer's meat and Malle
swallowed a bloody chunk, relishing every exquisite sensation it
aroused as it slid down her throat and down into her belly, there to
sate her hunger.
* * *
Malle looked around the forest.
She could not have slept long, as it was still raining, though not
nearly as heavily as before. Up above the shelter provided by the
rocky outcrop, a crack in the grey clouds could be seen, with bright
blue sky beyond. Stretching, she yawned loudly before sleepily
licking her lips and nose. Then, golden eyes blinking as the early
evening sunlight started to filter through the gaps in the rain
clouds, Malle gave her hindquarters a shake and trotted off into the
forest.
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