	Dhyrn sniffed the air. Something smelled different, and it wasn't the burning herbs he was using to assist in his concentration. It smelled acrid and sour, and it carried far on the savannah winds. The Gnoll quickly packed up his shamanic tools; small bones, a waterskin, a wide variety of dried herbs and several small, black stones inscribed with indecipherable symbols, all wrapped in a roughly woven mat. He tied the package to his staff, heavily decorated to mark his spiritual and medicinal achievements.
	It was not often that the shaman of the pack was seen tracking prey, but after a second whiff, the scent was unmistakable. The scent of birth. He put his nose to the ground and set off.

	After several minutes, he came across a patch of wet grass at the base of a shady tree. There was no mistaking it, this was the source of the odour. He examined the grass closely, finding spots of blood  mixed in with a clear, strong-smelling fluid. Birth-water. The fact that it hadn't dried up yet meant that whomever was here was here until recently.  Upon examining the ground around the stain, Dhyrn found more blood spots, small droplets that left a trail heading towards what he knew was a stream several hundred paces to the west. 
	“Quite a trek for one in so much pain,” he muttered to himself in a native tongue.

	The bushes and foliage surrounding the stream made the trail near impossible to follow after a certain period. Dhyrn wondered if he would be needing to search without the aid of a trail when a loud snort stole his attention. He froze, and listened. Another snort, followed by heavy, difficult breathing. The source was close. He moved as slowly and silently as possible, not counting on the babbling stream to cover his approach. He quietly pushed a branch out of the way, and the source of the trail was revealed.
	A zebra mare squatted in the clearing, tightly grasping a tree trunk for support. Her eyes were tightly shut, and her teeth were bared in a symbol of tremendous effort. Her entire body was covered in sweat, and the flies were swarming. Her tail swished angrily in futile attempts to swat the pests away. In between tail-swishes, the intruding shaman caught a glimpse of the source of her pain. The blood-spattered snout of a foal protruded between her legs, still covered in the white sac and stubbornly refusing to budge. Her panting and grunting ceased, and the foal's nose slipped back inside.
	“You are lucky I do not hunger,” Dhyrn announced in a common tongue, “Or you and your offspring would already be dead.”
	The mare shrieked and rapidly flipped on her back, covering her chest and privates as best she could. Her swollen midsection visibly contracted in pain.
	 She replied in the same common tongue, her voice weak from exhaustion. “Wha- why are you here?”
	“I followed your trail. Be thankful it was me alone and not my pack. They would devour you without so much as a second thought.”
	“And why didn't you?” the mare asked, propping herself up with some difficulty, “Why haven't you killed me yet?”
	“I am a shaman,” Dhyrn replied, setting down his staff and opening up his pouch. “I am not in the habit of killing.” He took the small bones and tossed them on the ground.
	“What are those?”
	“The spirits tell me that you are expecting a girl-child,” he said, “Is this true?”
	“I. . .I don't know! Why does it matter?”
	“What will her name be?”
	“I don't know!”
	“That's a lie,” Dhyrn said, moving closer, “What is her name?” The mare sank, defeated.
	“Neni,” she said, rubbing her gravid belly, “. . .her name was going to be Neni. But now both of us are going to die, and her name will never be heard outside of this clearing.” Dhyrn moved back towards his pouch of things.
	“I can change that,” he said absently, digging through his pouch. “As a shaman, I am responsible for the whelping of pups in my clan. The birth of a foal would be similar, I assure you. I can help you deliver your foal, and make sure that the both of you leave this clearing in good health.” The mare was stunned. 
	“What? Why would- Ah!” her response was interrupted by a wave of pain. She gritted her teeth and pushed as hard as she could. The foal's nose inched further out of her, only to slip back inside when she stopped to catch her breath. Dhyrn purposely ignored her, awaiting a response.
	“What would you want . .nnngh. . .in return?”
	“What I want doesn't matter. If you refuse my help, both you and Neni will die. I can whistle for my packmates right now, if that's what you wish. They'll make sure the two of you don't suffer much longer. . .” He slowly raised his fingers to his lips and took a deep breath before the labouring mare raised her hand in protest. 
	“Stop!” she panted, “stop and help me! Please!”
	That was all the response Dhyrn needed.
	He crouched down between the mare's legs and gently poked a finger inside her wet passage. 
	“A nuchal hand,” he said, “I've seen it before. Neni's head is resting on her hand, and both of them can't fit through the birth canal.”
	“Don't explain it,” the mare yelled mid-contraction, “Just fix it!” 
	“Working on it, but I need you to push harder!” The mare bore down and cried in pain as her unlikely midwife squeezed down on her belly with his arm and tried to grab the foal's head with the other hand. He eased his hand in, but the foal's head was too far up in the birth canal. Dhyrn again commanded the exhausted mare to push, but her attempt was feeble. 
	“I can't help you if you don't help me,” he scolded, wrist-deep in the birth canal, “again! Push!”
	A hoarse, gutteral moan passed the mare's lips, gradually turning into a primal roar. Finally the foal's head moved forward enough for the gnoll to get a grip. He held it immobile while the mother-to-be gasped for breath.
	“Hello, Neni,” Dhyrn whispered to the foal in his native tongue, and gently kissed it on the nose. “Let me know when the next pain comes,” he said, turning his attention to the mare, “and we'll work together.” She nodded.
	Meanwhile, the gnoll remained focused on the foal. He licked the blood and muck out of her mouth and nose, taking time to savour her flavour. He couldn't wait until he got a real taste.
	 Another grunt of pain and a clenching around his hands signalled that he wouldn't have to wait long at all. He pulled in tandem with the mare, and the birth of Neni's stripy head was announced by a wet 'pop'. Dhyrn could see the little hand born alongside, the fingers moving absently.
	“The worst is over,” he said as he rotated the foal's shoulders in preparation to pull her out, “push when you can.”
	the mare groaned feebly, her strength was nearly drained. Dhyrn gripped the foal's head and pulled, moving a hand to support the newborn as the rest of Neni's body slithered out, followed by the rest of her birth-water and a rubbery birth-cord. Dhyrn opened one of the foal's legs, exposing a pair of dark labia.
	“The bones were right,” he said, smiling, “you have a filly!”
	There was a brief moment of repose as the two of them waited for the air to fill with the newborn's wails. But no sound came.
	“Why. . .why isn't she crying?” the mare asked, struggling to get a good look at her foal. The shaman unravelled the cord and held the newborn close.
	“she has a heartbeat,” he said as he held the limp foal by the hind legs to drain any remaining fluid. He rubbed her back vigorously, and her little arms twitched. He held her close again and gently blew into her nose. Neni's little face twisted into a grimace, and she gargled her first noisy breath.
	The mare managed to prop herself up and reach for her baby. But the shaman held Neni close to his chest.
	“As to what I want in return. . .” Dhyrn said, his sharp, predatory teeth forming an evil grin, 
	“No!” the mare yelled with her remaining strength, “leave her alone! Let her go!”
	“In my culture,” he said, gazing longingly at Neni's wet, slick body, “if someone saves the life of a child, they are entitled to that child's feyrn”.
	“my child's what?”
	“One's first orgasm is a great event in my tribe, a cause for celebration. If someone does a great service for a pup or the pup's family, it is customary that the pup's first orgasm will be given by that person in exchange.” he paused to open Neni's legs once again, and parted her dark, hairless sex, revealing a glistening pink interior and a tiny clitoris She was fully developed, at least as well as a newborn could be. “I saved Neni's life, therefore Neni's first orgasm belongs to me.”
	“Now? But she's not even a minute old!” The mare was astonished. “She won't be able to have an orgasm for at least a dozen winters!” 
	The gnoll snickered as he licked the blood off Neni's chest. “Have you never seen it? I assure you, it can be done.” Neni twitched as the gnoll's rough tongue reached her tiny nipple. “See? She's very sensitive. . .”
	“No, stop!” the mare commanded, “She is my daughter, not some reward for a task! Give her to me!”
	“Well,” Dhyrn paused to hold the fidgeting newborn filly in a position where her sex was easily accessible, “If you don't agree to my terms, the rest of my pack is probably still within earshot. Little Neni would be torn to sloppy bits, and you, in your helpless state, would likely be devoured alive. It would be a shame for her life to end so soon, but at least she wouldn't suffer. . .too much.”
	“But you just saved our lives! Why would you sentence us to death after what you did?”
	“If you are unwilling to barter for my services, then it stands to reason that I should never have offered them. I should have left you both to die here, in this clearing, pecked at by scavengers until only your bones remain. But since I cannot make that happen, I will settle for the next best thing. He held Neni in one hand and raised his fingers to his lips a second time
	“Wait!” she urged, “what will happen to us if I agree?”
	“I take Neni's feyrn, I return her to you unharmed, and I take my leave.”
	“Unharmed?”
	“Entirely.” There was a long pause, interrupted only by a newborn filly's soft whines of discomfort. “I will take your silence as an agreement.”
	The mare offered no response, only hung her head.
	“You should be glad I am about to be her first,” Dhyrn offered, completely sincere, “Losing your Feyrn unwillingly is one of the worst embarrassments for my kind to suffer. Members of my tribe have endured lifetimes of stigma from having their feyrn stolen instead of given freely.”
	“You don't think Neni agrees, do you?”
	“Since Neni is unable to speak for herself, you are free to object on her behalf at any time,” he lowered his gaze. “but you know the consequences.”
	There were no further objections.
	
	Dhyrn laid down on the ground, his head between the filly's legs. He began by licking the afterbirth away from her belly and thighs, a sensation which Neni seemed to enjoy. She kicked and cooed, drawing a sudden, deep breath as the gnoll's tongue passed her vulva. He licked slowly and passionately, keeping a hand on her chest, listening to the filly's breaths match his strokes. 
	“I hope you're ready, Neni,” he said, switching back to his native speech, “I promise you'll like it.” He slid his tongue through her nether lips, pausing at a taut membrane. He held her close as his tongue pushed through it, eliciting an immediate shriek from the filly. She drew her legs up to her chest as the gnoll lapped up the small drops of blood leaking from her pussy. He rubbed her chest and began licking deeply and steadily, savouring her sweet newborn flavour, making sure to pass his tongue over her clit each time. Her screams gradually began to diminish in volume under the gnoll's careful touch, eventually reduced to sighs of contentment. The newborn's sighs changed timbre as the slow, steady pulsing between her legs began to build, and then suddenly stopped.
	“I don't want this to be over so quickly, little Neni”, Dhyrn said softly, licking the birth slime from his lips, “I want your feyrn to build”
	he withdrew his tongue, and licked only her labia, teasing her until she began to make small, insistent whines. She wanted more.
	“You're finally ready,” he whispered, pushing his snout between her legs again. He lapped strongly and steadily, placing both hands on the filly's chest. Her whines changed tone once more, clearly matched with the gnoll's practised tongue. They rose in pitch until her body was rocked by her powerful first orgasm. She reflexively wrapped her legs around Dhyrn's neck and threw her arms and head as she cried out in surprise and pleasure. A warm, sticky fluid discharged into the gnoll's mouth, and he lapped it up eagerly.
	Dhyrn rose from his task and gazed at the newborn, still attached to her birth-cord, and her sex wet with saliva and jism. He removed his stiff, throbbing member from under his loincloth and began to rub it against the filly's used opening. He closed his eyes, enjoying the feeling of his cock gliding along the slick newborn vulva. It was scant moments before he felt pleasure building, just long enough to aim and fire several ropes of thick gnoll cum onto Neni's groin and belly.
	“Our arrangement is ended,” Dhyrn said, allowing the mare to hold her offspring for the first time. The mare held her to her breast, still covered in Dhyrn's fluids, and she began to feed eagerly. “Your daughter carries my scent, it should be safe for you to travel. You have until next dawn to leave this place. I will not be so kind next time we meet.”

