Chapter 52: The Long Trek North Pt 2

(Jukush 7th-10th, Year 666 of the 4th Age)

All good things must come to an end, I cogitated. The caravan left Övalfsbæl Valley and the therapeutic, recreational activities and entered into the harsh wilderness, coinciding with the arrival of gelid, hiemal wind. A portion of the leg went smoothly until we encountered nature’s domain. Nobody cleared the path, so every able-bodied Fenri and Direfenri had to shovel the hillocks of snow. Rýnaki and Ingileif even had to surcease their coitus to assist.

Álfsandur paled in comparison to the herculean undertaking I endured. The wintry tempest from last month left its mark, and it commixed with more recent storms. My shovel sliced through fresh snow like a razor-sharp blade and shattered the condensed layers of ice like a hammer before I tossed them to the side. The duo had ponderous weight together, the icy fragments being the worst, and all the relaxation vacated my sinew. I was thankful for the gale cooling me off.

Dad channeled all of his rancor at the obstacle. His obscenities came nonverbally in the form of his strike with a shovel, treating it like an insolent peasant that offended him with its presence. I observed him impact a critically weak spot, and the snow sepulchered him. He emerged, and shook the powder off apoplectically. The death daggers mostly stifled the chortles that lightened the frustrated mien.

The phlegmatic time accelerated once the obstruction opened up to more traversable terrain for the carts and steeds to navigate. My rejuvenating slumber was also its ally. I was too enervated to remember much of the trip. I only recalled moments where I woke up and realized I rested on Lárus’s lap, a paradisiacal place to lay my head. He surreptitiously and nonverbally indicated I acted intimately in my slumber and approved it.

My tranquil state shattered when the caravan was almost at the capital. A stentorian, robust, nightmarish howl echoed from the Övæðylavod mountain range. I poked my head out the carriage with everyone else in the whole convoy and looked west.

Hrafnir got out first and jogged towards that. “What the hell was that?” He looked towards the mountain. “Don’t tell me.”

Dad snarled and had choleric horripilation. “Get ready” He elevated his voice. “Every able-bodied individual take arms and form a perimeter around the vulnerable.”

“This is redolent of the Hawk Spiders from when we left Akuvöllur,” Róstran enunciated.
Dad nodded while raiding the stash of weapons. “But way more pernicious, Róstran.” He got his blade and observed him still hiding in the carriage. “You’re joining in this fight. Sorry,” he uttered while handing a sword to him.

The earth trembled beneath us as three humongous blobs emerged from the mountains. I heard the pups cowering with the frailer adults and tightened the grip on my axe, channeling the training from dad and Hrafnir. My lips contorted to a snarl although they and the corybantic feeling slowly transformed into a facade when the monsters became clearer.

Being closer to the oncoming enemies stupefied me and made my legs quiver about their actual sizes. Put it simply and mildly— the Alpha Prime and his family were pups that recently emerged from a vagina compared to them. Their glaives dwarfed us and showed signs of being toothpicks. Their gaunt torsos and lanky arms had zero discernible effects to their strength in our favor.

Dad batted one glaive aside with his greatsword, ducked underneath the giant’s jungle of an armpit, and lacerated a decent section of its lack of a paunch, a clearly lethal wound for medium-sized creatures. It recoiled and clutched the wound. However, the fazed demeanor lasted for a split-second, and the injury slowly extravasated orange blood. The droplets of ichor hissed and created steam from hitting the snow. The creature roared again and charged at him, kicking him to the ground.

Hrafnir intercalated himself between his father and the giant. Sparks emanated from the metals clashing as he narrowly intercepted the attack against his sire. Dad quickly rolled away and stood up, covered in snow.

The females gravitated toward the carriages where the young, effete, and vulnerable congregated. Their masculine spouses took more of the lead while being near them such as Hrafnir and Æsignís, dad and mom, and Rýnaki and Ingileif. However, each giant had sufficient strength and threat that prohibited the husbands from aiding them.

Ingileif and her sister charged at the monster that exploited the males’ distractions and broke through the first line of defense. Manasína, being the indefatigable, chaotic ball that she was, managed to hop on its back and frenetically stabbed it multitudinous times with her daggers. Her excited shouts turned into one sudden, terrified yelp as it picked her up and tossed her at Ingileif, knocking them both down. Mom and Æsignís came to their defense, the former doing most of the fighting while the latter pulled them on their feet, and Manasína winced a bit from the burns.

I was with Róstran, Dágfárik, and Lárus dealing with the third giant. It just so happened to be my kismet it appeared to be the leader of this raid. It was the tallest of the three and had braided facial hair and a horned helmet. I quickly confirmed my suspicion that it was the most adroit in combat when it batted us away although the other two monstrosities kept everyone else occupied to switch targets.

I shoved Róstran from an attack and ended underneath the leader’s foot. My lungs began collapsing under tremendous pressure and couldn’t accommodate much air. My weapons was just beyond my reach, and the giant swatted my siblings away. I otiosely lifted the foot, sinking deeper into the snow.

I heard primal shouts from the two groups. Æsignís and mom were in a similar, dominant state, and it was from Hrafnir, who was also in that state, that made me realize they possessed the barbaric rage. I harnessed the special tutelage from Hrafnir, focusing on the sources that made me corybantic: Róstran’s abuse, society’s contempt towards me, and Gellir. My vision altered. I gutturally and apoplectically exhaled. I entered my dominant alter ego, and it wasn’t the sexy version from someone yanking my tail. The pressure phlegmatically alleviated from my lungs, the fresh air fueling my sinew.

I escaped my rancid prison, got my weapon, and deeply lacerated the preeminent giant, turning to my connate brother. “Rage, Lárus.” He nodded and soon metamorphosed his body to a savage brute.

Lárus quickly ran up to me. “Together. Go to his back. I stay here.” I did as he commanded, and we dealt as much damage to the leader together as the other two groups.

“That’s it, you two,” dad lauded while ducking. “Utilize your training and exploit your talents.”

“Not bad for a bunch of pups,” Beta Kórmóksæn uttered. He stabbed his opponent with his longsword. “But I refuse for you to outclass me.” A spray of its blood landed on him, and he winced while wiping the caustic liquid off.

The tide was in our favor. Hrafnir caught an attack, and his barbarous gift allowed him to hold the giant in place. Dad and Beta Kórmóksæn rushed in and dispatched the opponent.

Manasína yipped from taking a bludgeoning attack directly to her paunch and flew into a carriage, leaving her dazed and out of commission. Mom and Æsignís had to pick up the slack when her sister went to her aid. Mom barreled into the drágy with such force that it fell on its posterior, and Hrafnir’s mate dealt the fatal blow.

My connate sibling and I took turns darting in and out while leaving lacerations on the head drágy. I was seeing red from my rage and barely registered any afflictions I got from the monster. Lárus looked more roughed up than I did, and he acted like his injuries didn’t exist at all. The creature became erratic from vexation and knocked our weapons away, minimizing our windows of opportunity. Róstran chucked a rock at its head, and the brief distraction created an opening. I lifted the giant glaive with the help from Lárus, and we impaled the monster in its chest, our final blow.

We took stock of the hecatomb right after the prominent giant’s corpse plopped to the ground. No deaths were on our side. The worst were bruises, and mom got a nice shiner on her right eye. I felt the rage gradually evanesce. Then, the lethargy hit me hard once it disappeared fully. All the Fenri and Direfenri that possessed the special aspect felt the same crash as I did and ensconced next to me against one of the carriages, and Manasína upchucked from her dizziness.

Hrafnir looked up at dad when he rounded a corner. “Any idea why the drágy attacked us unprovoked?”

“Don’t know for certain, Hrafnir, but I suspect the pestilential moon is the main culprit.” Dad looked at his wife, who denuded her lower habiliments and underwear and masturbated, and got his head near her snatch. “Allow me.”

Hrafnir got up, stripped his clothes off, and ambulated to his spouse while dad licked mom’s vagina. He quickly returned and was euphoric. “We have company!”

Dad looked up just as he got mom to her orgasm. “Who?”

“Take a look.”

Dad stood up and jogged with his oldest scion. Hrafnir pointed him in the right direction, and his eyes lit up as I heard a rumble and felt the earth shake. “I’ll be damned.”

“What is it?” I inquired, feeling hopeful from noticing dad’s amicable demeanor.

“The Ivýafolðæð branch is here.” Dad shielded his eyes and peered further. “And it looks like a familiar acquaintance is among them.”

I peeked around a corner with mom, Hrafnir, Æsignís, and Lárus, and my jaw dropped. The party of ten Fenri and Direfenri rode on steeds towards the caravan but they weren’t the equine variety at all. I beheld elephants except their pilose bodies were thick with fur, and they each had a dyad of very elongated tusks. The group halted, and one Fenri hopped off.

“Alpha Brákfur,” he uttered excitedly, extending his hand.

“Congratulations on your new post, Jövæk,” dad uttered in an identical tone. He pulled him in for a hug, and both tails wag. Their tails still move after they surceased the embrace. “Still drawing the tiniest tail, I take it?”

“For now.” Jövæk gestured to his crew. “We’ve been extra busy dealing with rambunctious monsters ever since the second moon showed up.” He pointed at the dead giants. “Especially drágies, which is weird.”

“Sorry you can’t watch Jærvmi compete.”

Jövæk shrugged lackadaisically. “It is what it is. At least the Darkened Seven spices things around here, and my comrades and I are praying for him to succeed.” He froze when he descried mom. “Is she the lucky one, Alpha? I heard you completed your second Mating Ceremony finally after Þuriður died.”

Dad looked at mom. “She is though I’m just as fortunate as her.”

“I’m Hlédís,” mom spoke, and she and Jövæk shook hands while she fondled her husband’s genitalia.

“Jövæk. Pleasure to meet you.”

“Pleasure to meet you also.” Mom eyed dad’s crotch.

Jövæk gave dad a peculiar expression as mom lowered dad’s trousers and sucked his sheath. “I see she’s just as fiery as your previous mate. You believe you can handle her?”

Dad stroked the back of mom’s head, subconsciously and audibly expressing content at the fellatio. “I say she’s greater than Þuriður, which I’m jocundly content with. We just had our first litter since the Mating Ceremony.”

Jövæk raised his eyebrows. “First time hearing that report. Congrats. How many?”

“Ten, and they are alive and healthy,” dad answered as his boner slid out of his sheath in mom’s muzzle.

Jövæk whistled in stupefaction. “Faer truly blessed you two then and surmised you were meant for each other. I’m expecting a litter of four in two months.”

“Thanks and congrats. Hold on for just a second.” Dad had mom sitting on her fundament, facing in the same direction as him. He held her in place by her neck and thrust directly down her throat, his balls hitting her eyes. “I presuppose you haven’t heard the latest news from the capital yet.”

“Only on who’s competing.”

“So nothing so far.”

Jövæk shook his head. “Not yet although there are some heavy hitters vying to mate Ilmur: Íkamæn, Jærvmi, Vakuð, and Þórbjorð are a hot topic, but none create such a stir as Kellam.”

“I can see why,” dad vociferated quickly as mom tightly and fugaciously squeezed his testicles. “He has a similar amount of accolades I have. He got medals for his service including several that warranted celebration of Álgýđostrok.”

Hrafnir nudged his begetter playfully. “Just like you, dad. I remember yours was one long jubilee to consolidate all your remarkable achievements, not to mention the highest medal called Fáéðord. People often compared you to the legendary Iýsinaröðas.”

“Kellam got the Fáéðord twice.” Dad increased his celerity.

“He got an extra stripe on it also? Damn.”

“His notoriety leaked out to the world also, granting him the prestigious title called Blade Master. Only nineteen other warriors have it throughout all of Illyria currently.”

“There goes your unique status then. How come Dágfárik, Rýnaki, and I haven’t heard much about him in your tales, and why didn’t place your wager on him instead of rooting for one of Rikka’s scions?”

Dad briefly growled, and it was not because of the oral pleasure on his penis. “Because he’s not someone I want you to apotheosize. Íkamæn has more honor than him, and that’s saying something. Plus, Kellam is.a prominent member in the Church of the Red Wolf. Believe me when I say you don’t want its beliefs of the Hjolagrð anywhere near seats of power.”

“Do you honestly believe he’ll win the honor of having sex with the Alpha Prime’s daughter?” Rýnaki inquired. He took dad’s lead and copulated with Ingileif via sixty-nine position while standing and being naked, only incensing my jealousy over the two amatory dyads.

Dad barked cheerfully and became more of a braggadocio. “Hah! I should’ve claimed Þórbjorð or at least Jærvmi when I had the opportunity!”

“I hope whoever does win is capable to quell potential trouble,” Jövæk uttered, looking at the sky. “Especially with the Darkened Seven.”

“Tell me about it,” dad grunted. “I sense our adversaries circling us like predators,”

“Not to mention internal challenges. How’s the annexation of Kosüvain going?”

“Surprisingly smooth. The Káyüts there are receptive to being under the Alpha Prime’s hegemony, and the Humans in Rusask are amiable to the prearrangement. Hopefully the new Alpha Prime is amicable to colloquy and diplomacy than being a brute-force warmonger.”

“Hey, Dad! Check this out!” Rýnaki shouted, looking at Ingileif. “Show them what you just achieved, love.” She nodded and shoved all of his cock into her mouth. Her jaw distended, and his gonads went in next.

Dad lifted his eyebrows slightly. “Impressive. Not many people have the fortitude to suck both the penis and testicles coevally.”

“Betcha mom can’t do this.”

Dad smirked and tilted his head. “Watch, son.”

I watched, too, as dad spread his legs further and slowly thrust downward, and mom extended her jaw. They accomplished the same feat. He fixed her head place and reverted to his savage speed. My maw was agape, and it was torturous to not masturbate while she reached into her pants to do just so.

Rýnaki shared my reaction. “Ok. I stand corrected.”

“So, your second oldest scion completed his Mating Ceremony,” Jövæk commented, chuckling afterward. “They always enter the stage of copulating non-stop.”

Dad pointed towards me, Róstran, Dágfárik, and Lárus. “They’re not far behind either,” he spoke as his ballsack popped out of mom’s mouth. “Then it’s several years of equanimity before my most recent litter has its turn.”

Jövæk looked at me and my twin sibling, and I sensed his judgment. “You adopted two more, Alpha Brákfur?”

Dad paused to shrug. “Sort of. They’re Hlédís’s offspring. Her initial mating was tumultuous.”

I expected Jövæk to repudiate me, my mom, and Lárus through his words or body language, but he appeared affable. He bowed to her. “You have my condolences, and I assure you won’t find a better mate than him.”

Dad moaned from mom’s vocal vibrations. “I believe she says thanks and already knows how much of a stud I am.” He looked at mom, who was relishing the barbaric treatment on her face and masturbating. “Did I assume incorrectly.” She shook her head somewhat, and he blithely shut his eyes. “I guess not.”

Jövæk turned to me and Lárus. “Excuse me, but I haven’t introduce myself to you.” He extended his right hand for a shake. “I’m Jövæk.”

I reciprocated. “Kaera.”

Lárus also reciprocated. “Lárus.”

“I’ll repeat myself by saying you two are in better hands compared to your original father,” Jövæk uttered, his hands on his hips. “I know from being his friend for many years that he’ll be the parent you rightfully deserve.” He grinned and chuckled for several seconds.

I tilted my head. “Something funny?”

The smile remained on Jövæk’s physiognomy. “I remember one of the pranks Tandri and I did to him while in Camp Bjúnnbjorn.”

I heard dad groan in dismay. “What did you do?” I inquired.

“We gave him a potion that shrunk his genitals to almost nonexistence. It was during the time where everyone at the camp had to be naked,” Jövæk howled and slapped himself, “so he paraded his maleness in front of everyone, including the Alpha Prime.” Everybody, including the mating dyads, minus dad, had a laugh.

I beheld Dad glare at his spouse as he thrust into her mouth, and she slowly reverted to being his supportive wife. “You’re omitting one epochal detail, Jövæk,” he uttered.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Alpha,” Jövæk responded with a tinge of faux innocence in his voice.

“I got your expiation in the form of my subpar hermeticism skills. Luckily for me, my failed potions from alchemy classes were intact.” Dad turned his head to his eldest children. “I made him and Tandri, their rooms, and their items smell like troglodyte piss for a week at least.”

“Ahh. Those were good times.”

Lárus pointed at the weapon adjoining Jövæk’s left hip. “That’s a peculiar weapon. The hilt’s nothing like I seen in Canir’s military.

Jövæk glanced at his blade. “You like it?” He unsheathed it. I shielded my eyes from the scintillating reflection from the sun.

The longsword was elegant in its shape— Elvish if I had to guess. The way it curved was an iota redolent of a scimitar. Its blunt side had two slightly acicular points. Jövæk moved the reflection away, and my eyes acclimated to the change and discerned more of its idiosyncrasies. The metal was a darker shade of green and shiny. The diminutive particles in it made it sparkle, and I descried Kessarian steel woven into the other metal.

Lárus, Hrafnir, and Dágfárik driveled over Jövæk’s blade. “That’s a marvelous sword,” Lárus uttered in a lower intonation.

Jövæk grinned at the captivated audience. “Like it? I named it Skyskrir. Originally, the High Elves in - I believe- Seron created this under Aithailin Liagolor and called it Yrnfareene, Yrneayn’s Miracle. Aithailin fused the Kessarian Steel into simoerotil, a mineral behind their glass weapons and armor, and wove some more while it and the blade were still red hot and malleable. It was revolutionary in the Elven world. Now, they have a process where they can enhance the glass’s durability while making its legendary sharpness still the same if not sharper.” He rubbed the flat side of his blade. “That’s not all this baby can do.” He paused when Rýnaki and Ingileif howled and ejaculated simultaneously. “Watch this. Sojańa!” The edges radiated bright green, and he swung his sword at a nearby rock. It unleashed a wave of identical color and destroyed the rock.

“Woah,” Lárus, Hrafnir, Róstran, Dágfárik, and I spoke in unison.

“How did you get it?” Lárus catechized in stupefaction.

Jövæk sheathed his sword. “High Lord Illyrynd Valmyar gave this as a token of friendship to the Wood Elves in Aeyis when his son, Raeran, married High Lord Thuridan Naeneiros’s daughter, Iefyr. Sadly, Thuridan perished in the early stages of the war against Krusia, and it fell into enemy hands. I got it as a war trophy in the Battle of Ślęwiec Forest. Luckily, the Human I took it from wasn’t proficient with its properties or I could be with Faer right now. I offered it back to our ally, but the leaders politely refused and told me not to get carried away with one of its unique properties, and I named it Skyskrir.”

“You were in the same battle as him?”

Jövæk nodded. “Even took part in the skirmish with him that freed Tandri and the others in the burning shack, earning himself one of his Fáéðord’s from it. He was quite something as he barreled through the Krusians and conflagration like plain air.”

“It really wasn’t spectacular,” dad uttered, pausing the forceful fellatio.

Everyone turned to dad, except for Róstran who wandered off from the group. “You being inside the collapsed, burning building for awhile before bursting out with our last comrade says otherwise,” Jövæk replied.

Dad shrugged as mom resumed sucking his boner. “Just following our motto of packs always sticking together, and everyone played a tremendous role in that effort, including you.”

“Still unpretentious, I see. Still looking forward to the day you retire?”

“Faer, yes, but not for twenty more years. However, the Alpha Prime and his council exhausted their last use of the agreement. So, once the number is up,” Dad looks at the environment, “I’ll relocate here and live my life in a small house, start a farm, and hunt.” Dad looked at his wife. “Does that sound alright with you?”

Mom nodded and pulled his cock out of her mouth, holding it in her metacarpus. “It sounds lovely. I hope there’s room in your future schedule to give me a good dicking with your large penis.”

Dad osculated her. “You know I’ll always be down to fuck you. Speaking of which.”

“On it.” Mom continued servicing dad, jerking his pecker while licking his testicles.

I heard a trickle and confirmed Rýnaki started micturating on his spouse, aiming the golden stream to her mammillae, and she fondled them. “Will Ingileif and I have to sign a contract very soon, dad?”

Dad attempted to compose himself as mom furiously stroked him and slathered his balls in slaver. “Not outside the mandatory learning in a military academy followed by two years of active service. After those, you are free to live the life you and Ingileif desire.”

“Unless the Alpha Prime invokes Ávvútt,” Jövæk uttered, which dad scowled at him in response.

“Let’s pray that never comes— not with the Darkened Seven in play, at least.”

“But will we have the druthers to choose when the time comes?” Rýnaki inquires.

“Nobody can obtrude the contract on you once you complete the mandatory years. If I can travel back to the past, I would kick some sense into my past self about signing it just to please my progenitor and family lineage. Being the Alpha Prime’s property is not worth all the titles and prestige. Unfortunately, nobody can eschew Ávvútt once the Alpha Prime invokes it through proper channels, something else to consider on who I want on the throne.” Dad behaved vagariously. “Faer, I’m cumming!” He vociferated Mom quickly got his penis and knot into her mouth just in time, and he discharged semen immediately after. I watched her guzzle the agglutinative, salty cataract for a couple of minutes before he regained his aplomb. “Sorry about that. Anyway, I advised Hrafnir against signing the concordat, and he took it. I’ll do the same for you and your younger siblings.”

“And if any of us want to?” Rýnaki asks as his mate took her turn at pissing on him, lying on the snow while she squatted over him.

“Then, I’ll be behind it if that is what you or anyone else in the family truly want to do.” Dad urinated next, and mom agog imbibed his pee. “Ahh,” he drawled out for a few seconds. “There’s nothing that can beat peaceful living at your own home in the country and raising your family in that style, in my opinion.”

“To each his own, Alpha Brákfur,” Jövæk enunciated. “I don’t want boredom to be my demise.”

Róstran ran towards us, frenetically waving his arms. “We have a botheration coming!” The prominent drágy bestirred and started to stand behind him.

Dad lips turned into a corybantic snarl and growled. “I thought it was dead.”

“Apparently not,” Jövæk replied, unsheathing Skyskrir.

“Seen anything like this before?” Dad looked around for his blade, and his cock remained stuck in mom’s maw.

Jövæk shook his head. “This is a first.”

“Fuck.” Dad gutturally and irascibly articulated.

“Never fear. My crew and I are here. We’ll take this one ourselves.” Jövæk turned to his comrades. “Get ready!” They got off their hirsute pachyderms posthaste.

The head drágy stood up and roared. Its veins manifested on its skin and glowed bright orangish-red. One Direfenri soared into the air after it swatted him away as it reached for its glaive in its chest. Skyskrir’s sharp property proved beneficial when Jövæk effortlessly sliced through its weapon like nothing. Jövæk quickly lacerated it a few times before it kicked him away.

The afflictions took a few seconds to externalize on the leader’s chest, and the drágy covered the bleeding wound with its right hand. It chucked the useless glaive away and went for a new one. Three of Jövæk’s crew charged at it, and it responded by exhaling a caustic liquid. They howled in agony as their fur and skin sizzled, and steam emanated from them. To my horror, its latest afflictions began regenerating unlike the earlier injuries.

“Those are new, too,” Jövæk uttered in shock, his mouth agape. He looked between the three Fenri that were rolling around in pain and one that was a medic. “Render aid to them once the rest of us create an opening.”

“Will do, Beta,” the medic replied, saluting.

“The rest of you… on me. Utilize the mammoths to our advantage.” Jövæk got into his attack stance. “Let’s teach this bastard why the Ivýafolðæð earned its legendary reputation.” He took his first two steps. “Charge!”

The ground shook as four riders followed right behind Jövæk towards the supreme drágy on their mammoths. The probosces swayed while emitting their stentorian sounds, impelling me to shield my ears. Jövæk and the Direfenri that was on the snow got to the monster first and tag-teamed it. Then, the first pachyderm collided against it. I knew it was huge from fighting it up close earlier, but seeing it stand roughly at identical height to the hairy steed awestruck me. The tusks did quite a bit of damage from knocking the creature around as the other animals convoked around it.

“That’s amazing,” I uttered, not obfuscating my amazement.

“Ditto,” my consanguineous brother spoke similarly.

“That’s a tip of the iceberg of why this branch of military is elite,” dad responded nonchalantly. Mom mumbled her praises while waiting for his knot to shrink in her mouth.

“Hell yeah!” Dágfárik, Hrafnir, and Rýnaki cheered. Dágfárik whooped and whistled, also. I heard the whole caravan cajoling our rescuers on as we watched them utilize our unique ability to work together as a team.

The head drágy exhaled its acidic liquid again and got two mammoths directly in the eyes. They roared in pain and went on a rampage, inadvertently colliding into each other and the other mammoths before charging away. All the riders plummeted to the ground, and the medic barely rolled away in time with an injured Direfenri as one of them trampled through. That move flipped the table in an instant.

“Clever bastard!” Jövæk shouted. “And here I thought drágies had less brains than other creatures!”

Jövæk suddenly ended up as the only one most capable of fighting. Only one Direfenri and regular Fenri were standing, but they took the most damage and were enervated. The drágy picked up another glaive and chucked it like a spear. The Direfenri jumped away, and Róstran was in its path.

Róstran raised his hands up instinctually. The weapon magically bounced off, and he and dad had the most perturbed reactions. The monster noticed him, too, and became enthralled at him. It charged at him unfazed by the soldiers and raised its weapon into the air, pointing the acicular end at him. He appeared traumatized and frozen, and dad desperately tried to reach him while dragging mom by his penis.

A green wave decapitated the giant leader’s right arm. The weapon landed dangerously near Róstran, and white became orange from the mordant waterfall. It snarled and snapped his head toward Jövæk and snarled, and the wound showed no sign of regenerating.

“How pathetic of you going after the defenseless,” Jövæk growled, erecting his fur. “I can give you a good time.”

The drágy upchucked its mordant fluid, and Jövæk slid to his left, avoiding the attack. It wasn’t that interested in him, returning to the task of going after Róstran, who was busy crawling underneath a carriage. Róstran screamed in terror and flailed around as it lifted him by his legs and walked off.

Jövæk ran towards the prominent drágy and swung Skyskrir It buckled from its weight on the lacerations on its legs, dropping to its knees and tossing Róstran into the air. The runt flailed while falling. He caught him and lowered Róstran’s feet to the ground. He turned around and was about to wield his sword when a glaive perforated his chest, slumping to the red snow.

I joined the cacophony of lament while the monster removed the weapon from Jövæk. Dad was apoplectic, and his rage fueled his tugs that removed his dick from mom. He barreled towards his fallen brother-in-arms while Róstran inadvertently shot a fire-based spell at the creature. I couldn’t discerned what Jövæk said to him though I saw Jövæk hand Skyskrir to him. Livid failed to describe his expression. What I viewed on him I only witnessed on Hrafnir. He entered his rage, and it wasn’t erotic and way beyond than what he was capable of.

Dad took Skyskrir and charged at the drágy, who was busy extinguishing the fire on itself. Smoldering embers remained when it focused angrily on him, and Róstran cowered behind Lárus and me. It prepared to exhale its acid while he charged his new blade.

“Sojańa!” Dad shouted and swung.

The green energy beheaded the drágy, and its head tumbled toward the ground. Its body shortly plopped after and didn’t stir again. Everyone froze. A commixture of lethargy, sorrow, and fretful anticipation held us in place until time ticked by way longer than when the drágy gained new life. Then, dad walked toward me and my twin brother.

My body remained frozen. Dad looked beyond me and Lárus. I summoned all my will to remain a shield for Róstran. Then he, exuded his commanding aura, and it was supercharged from the residuum of his rage, and I caved first. Róstran became paler than a sick Fenri with white fur as they looked at each other.

Dad stooped towards Róstran and pulled him in for a hug, unbothered by the contact on his genitals. “You ok, Róstran?”
Róstran buried his face into dad’s shoulder. “Don’t hate me, please,” he sobbed.

Dad patted Róstran. “I will never be that way to you. You hear me? You don’t have to worry about me behaving like your real sire and walking on eggshells around me. I won’t abandon you.” Róstran’s visage remained smothered in his shoulders as a couple of minutes ticked by. “You still haven’t said if you’re fine or not.”

“I’m fine, father.”

For once, I beheld a tear coming out of dad’s left eye. “Then, let it all out I swear to Faer I won’t become the monster you survived from all those years ago.” I watched the two hug each other for a long time and thought about dad. He remained strong and stoic though he held back most of his melancholy, and I cogitated about his promise to Róstran and to what degree did I failed mine.