	Dhyrn was exhausted. He had been walking for many dawns, and only the spirits prevented him from becoming completely lost in the dense forestscape. He and his tribe had migrated far to the north, where savannah grasslands became engulfed in large needled trees and thick masses of choking vines.  It was much colder here as well, and the coats of the gnoll tribe grew long and thick. 
	The gnoll shaman carried his usual tools: a small bag of knobbly bones, his black carved pebbles, and his walking staff, bedecked with many small teeth and shiny stones. He also carried a bow and and quiver on this occasion, because even the spirits could not quell his hunger for meat, and he would not be able to outrun prey in this new environment.
	He had been sent by his tribe to find a particular plant, the leaves of which, when squeezed, would release a powerful healing agent, able to soothe injuries and burns. However, he had not ventured to this part of the forest in many, many seasons. He had forgotten where to look.
	He reached a clearing and paused. He sat, closed his eyes, and felt the world slip away. He needed a guide, one that would lead him to this mystical plant. 
	Something was amiss. Dhyrn opened his eyes, and saw something move in his peripheral vision. He looked and saw a figure bound to a white-barked tree. The humanoid figure itself was a light grey, very well camouflaged. It would be quite hard to see without a shaman's special vision.
	“Who goes there?” he said in the common language as he approached the figure. A nude, very gravid grey wolf had been tied to the tree, her arms held above her head and her legs scarcely touching ground. Her face was matted with blood, the sign of a recent injury. Her full breasts lolled to the side, pushed out of the way by her globular belly. Beneath her was a stain on the ground, lkely where her birth water had fallen some time ago. Dhyrn found himself instantly attracted to her bestial beauty, even if she was of a different species.
	Dhyrn's question was answered with a snort. “Begone, scavenger!” she barked weakly in the same common tongue, “You insult these woods with your presence!”
	“You are in no position to threaten me, wolf,” Dhyrn said calmly as he approached, “To which pack do you belong?”
	“I will answer none of your – nnngh. . .questions!” 
	Dhyrn noticed her entire body tense up while she spoke.
	“You don't look like a long-tooth,” he said, purposely ignoring both her anger an her current bodily state, “And your chest is missing the orange flecks shared by most of the rip-fang, which means you're either a sharp-ears. . . or a mongrel.” As predicted, the 'm-word' struck a nerve. The she-wolf unleashed a torrent of obscenities at the gnoll, pausing only to catch her breath.
	“Mongrel?! You spotted, odorous whelp! I will not be insulted by one who dines with vultures! You dare – ah!” She winced as her body spasmed again.
	“I apologize for my insult, but my knowledge of lupine tribal markings is limited. Now, how long have the pains been coming?”
	The wolf growled in frustration. “What does it matter! Were I not bound to this tree you would be dead, vulture!”
	“Unlikely,” he said flatly as he approached her, “In your current state you are no threat to anyone. Which brings me to my next question,” Dhyrn sat before her, cross-legged in a traditional bartering position. “What pack would be cruel enough to leave a pregnant she-wolf at the mercy of the elements? What crime have you committed?”
	“I will not answer to you!” she spat between contractions.
	“And what of your child? It would die from exposure right here at your feet. Is it guilty of the same crime you are?”
	“My children. . .” she paused to grimace her way through another contraction, “will be mongrels. They are deserving of the same fate I am.”
The pieces were coming together. “Children - plural?” Dhyrn asked. The wolf nodded. 
	“Twins.”
	Dhyrn look up at her. “Mating outside your pack does not deserve a punishment this severe. Your pack is sentencing three lives to death, two of them completely innocent.”
	The she-wolf was silent.
	“I can help you,” Dhyrn offered, “As a shaman, It pains me to see such a vibrant, hardy spirit go to waste. You've sat here too long, and you've got far too much at stake to simply waste away.”
	“You don't understand,” the she-wolf sighed, “I left my pack a long time ago. These pups belong to a lone wolf. Lone wolves have surrendered their souls to the wild. As a consequence, they are no longer protected by the laws of the wolf. They have no spirit to save, and neither to any offspring they might bear.”
	“And you surrendered your spirit by mating with him?”
	“It's – hnnng. . .complicated,” she panted, “If a lone wolf has a mate, the children are not considered soulless. We were going to form our own pack.”
	“But. . .”
	“But my old tribe found and killed him. They found me shortly thereafter, filled with his heathen seed. They said I did not deserve a quick death, and left me here. I have been bound to this tree for two dawns now.”
	“Then I am sorry.”
	“Why?”
	“I will not be able to save you.”
	“I never expected you would, vulture. No doubt you plan to sit here and watch me die, feed on my corpse before it is even cold!”
	Dhyrn let slip a gnollish giggle. “Even in death you fight. I admire your thirst for life, she-wolf. I am forbidden from saving you because, as a shaman, I am not simply bound to the rules of one tribe. I am bound by all of them. If your tribe has found you guilty, I cannot change their decision. However. . .
I can hopefully still save your pups.”
	“And what do you get for saving these 'precious' lives?”
	Dhyrn raised an eyebrow. “You seem to know enough about my culture to insult me, what do you know of our bargaining methods, sharp-ears?”
	“You seem trade for sex quite a lot.”
	Dhyrn cackled, quite amused at pages of sacred text and generations of tradition being reduced to a handful of words. “Well. . .close enough. The occurrence of an orgasm in my culture is a symbol of thanks.”
	The she-wolf sank in her bonds. “That isn't going to be possible, vulture. . .nnnngh, Look.” She lifted her leg, allowing Dhyrn to examine her nethers more closely. Her pubic mound was very prominent, weighty with child. He opened her outer labia and silently opened his mouth in shock. Where her clitoris would normally be, there was only a hairless smear of flesh – a scar. 
	“In your world, pleasure is a form of gratitude. In mine, it is a privilege, reserved for males and the mates of alphas. I cannot give you what you ask for.”
	Dhyrn saw another contraction ripple through her, and saw as the rigid scar held firm against the swelling pains.
	“Your. . .there's no way a pup is going to fit through that opening. The scar is preventing your birth canal from stretching. You need my help or your pups will die.”
	“But why would you help my children if I can't thank you properly?”
	“I'm not giving you a choice,” he said as he approached, clamping her muzzle with his paw before she had a chance to snap at him, “Without my help, you and your pups will die. And as a shaman, I cannot allow that to happen.”
	Dhyrn could hear the wolf grunting as she winced in pain as well as fear. 
	“Relax,” he said as he reached into his pack with his free hand, “I can do this without hurting you, but I need you to trust me.” He pulled out some leaves and began to chew them into a paste. He spat the green mixture into his hand and began to gently rub it into her slit. She tensed up noticeably.
	“This will help your labour along, but its missing an ingredient. . .” The gnoll released her mouth from his clutch and disrobed, revealing his erect member. She recoiled, Dhyrn only giggled. “I told you I wont hurt you,” he said, raising his arms in a gesture of innocence as she growled, “and I meant it.” He probed her entrance with his member, testing her reaction. She growled, leering at him from her restraints.
	“Did you know that the great dragons of the south mate during labour? And very roughly, I might add. Apparently, it helps take away the pain of the mother while she's laying her eggs.” The wolf's expression turned to fear. 
	“What do you intend to do with me?”
	Dhyrn grinned. “Nothing so terrible, sharp-ears. Just helping you stretch a little. And after this, you and your pups will be free.”
	“rrrrrnng – do it and be quick about it!” she commanded as she winced through the pain.
	Dhyrn plunged his gnollhood into the she-wolf, spreading the lubricating paste around. Her tight sex hugged him tightly – almost uncomfortably so. 
	“No wonder you were having trouble, sharp-ears,” Dhyrn said as he struggled to thrust deeper into his companion, “you're so tight even I'm having a hard time fitting!” He pushed his way through as he felt the paste begin to take effect. 
	“What's. . .happening?” The wolf said as she felt her nethers tingling from the shaman's strange remedy, “The paste it's. . .ah! I feel something! Something's happening!”
	“I can feel it too,” Dhyrn said as he accelerated his thrusting. Her birth canal began to expand and contract, making room for the pup's eager head. The gnoll felt the pup approach his cock from inside; a hard object in her warm, wet passage. He felt it force its way downwards, threatening to push him out. He accelerated his thrusting as the fetal head chased his member out of the birth canal, heaving into view just as he finished. He winced, trying to keep silent as the newborn's head became speckled with sticky gnoll cum. The wolf was too busy screaming in pain to notice the Dhyrn's lewd display.
	“That paste really works,” the wolf puffed, I feel another one coming!” The wolf groaned, and Dhryn reached his hands up as the pup's head was pushed completely out. 
	“Never underestimate the power of the shaman, sharp-ears,” Dhyrn said as he ran his paws over the pup's face, flicking the bloody mix of spunk and herbal paste away from its mouth and nose. He cupped his hands its head and prepared to guide the newborn free. “Again,” he commanded, “push.”
	The she-wolf grimaced, every muscle in her body tightening as she strained, but the head remained firmly stuck between her legs. Dhyrn felt around the head, and could feel no room to give. The shoulder was wedged tightly against the pubic scar.
	“I'm going to have to release you slightly ahead of schedule,” he said as his hands left the child's head and quickly cut her left arm free, “When you're loose, I'm going to push your legs up, and I want you to push as hard as you can!” She nodded, completely entranced by agony. As soon as her other hand was free, she slid down the tree trunk, helpless. Dhyrn pushed on her feet, bending her knees toward her head. A spurt of fluid between her legs indicated that Dhyrn's trick had worked. “Push!” he barked, looking between her legs at the emerging form, “you're almost there!” The wolf screamed as Dhyrn quickly moved a hand between her legs to catch the wet bundle, both shoulders slipping free. He  released the mother and wrapped his hands around the half-born pup, gently pulling it into the cold air. The newborn protested, taking its first noisy breaths and mewling for warmth. 
	“Open your eyes, sharp-ears,” Dhyrn spoke softly, holding the baby towards the mother, “What do you see?”
	“I. . .” she started, squinting from pain and severely out of breath, “I see. . .my son.”
	“Take him,” he said as the she-wolf took her newborn boy-cub and guided him to her breast. His cries ceased almost immediately as he filled his tiny stomach with sweet, warm milk. She turned her head and began grooming her offspring, licking him clean as best she could.
	Dhyrn gently parted the she-wolf's nethers once more, gingerly reaching inside for the second pup. His hand followed the pulsing cord of the first twin past her pelvis and into a pair of tiny legs. He gripped the pup's ankles and guided them downward. The second pup slid easily through the birth canal, already loosened and lubricated by its brother. The second twin's legs slipped into the world, and Dhyrn pulled until he felt the baby's shoulders halt his progress. He took the wolf's free hand and guided it to her second child.
	“What do you feel, sharp-ears?” he asked, watching as the wolf's fingers wandered between her child's legs.
	“I. . .” she started, pausing until her digits found their way under her pup's tail, “I feel my daughter,” she finished, the timbre of her voice rising as she idly traced her fingers around her daughter's labia.
	“Touch her, sharp-ears,” grinned Dhyrn, “give her the pleasure that you were denied.” The wolf exhaled as her wandering claws began intently rubbing her daughter's vulva, gently spreading the virginal opening. “Isn't that why you left, sharp-ears? You wanted your children to be granted the one thing your pack would not allow you.” She nodded breathlessly as her claw slipped past her daughter's hymen, eliciting a responsive kick from the pup. The gnoll struggled to pry his eyes away from the event unfolding before him and returned to his work. 
	He found an arm and freed it, marvelling as her little claws grasped his finger. She was already very much aware and alert, even before being fully born. He gently removed her before finding and untrapping her other arm. Only her head remained inside.
	The she-wolf continued pleasuring her daughter, holding her nursing son in the crook of her arm,  her hand wrapped around the squirming legs of her daughter, her other hand under her child's tail, fingering her and rubbing her wet, newborn clit. The baby's legs twitched and kicked.
	“I. . .I can feel her,” she said, “I can feel her tightening around me!”
	“Good,” Dhyrn said, supporting the pup's body, “give your daughter what you've always wanted!”
	“Oh, she wants it! I can feel – I think she's coming!”
	The newborn's entire body shook, her back legs kicking in a frog-like motion and a trace of fluid leaking from between her legs, around her mother's hand. Dhyrn, noticing that the event was finished, gently lifted the cub's legs up toward her mother, using leverage to finally release the pup's head. The wet, slick body stirred, but did not cry. She was exhausted, having lost her virginity before she was even born. 
	“Your daughter thanks you, sharp-ears,” Dhyrn said as he cradled the wide-eyed baby girl, still attached to her mother, “As do I.” He handed the child to her exhausted mother, who placed her on her other breast. Her son was no longer hungry, and was content to lay in his mother's arms, nearly asleep.
	Dhyrn picked up his staff and circled it around the three of them, imploring the spirits to grant them safety. 
	“You are strong, sharp-ears, he said to her softly, “And now you must prove it.”
