“You'll do just fine,” Ester said to the little yellow flower as she gently took it between her cloven fingers, briefly admiring its beauty before plucking it. Her puffy tail twitched rapidly under her green dress as she contemplated adding it to the bouquet in her basket, but quickly reconsidered, placing it behind one of her large ears instead. The brilliant yellow complimented her golden-brown fur quite nicely, and if her mother were here, she'd say it brought out the brightness of her hazel eyes. Her father might not have approved so readily. After all, he would say, taking pride in one's appearance was a surefire was to invite the attention of frisky bucks, or worse. 
	
	She always thought her father's strict influence turned her into a rather late bloomer. She only outgrew her spots just last year, and on that very night she dressed herself up all fancy, and found just the type of buck she thought her father would have told her to avoid. Irony of ironies, he turned out to be quite the sweetheart, and the two remained together, finally consummated their young love only a few nights ago. Her fondest memory of that night wasn't actually the act itself, but the soft pattering of the rain afterwards, echoing in the alleyway outside. 
	
	He was the reason she was out in the forest alone – she told him she was going to market, but she really wanted to surprise him with the flowers she picked. She wanted to tell him she loved him, and she couldn't help but sigh dreamily as she imagined his response. He would beam, lift her off her dainty cloven hooves with his strong arms, swinging her around and around before drawing her close for an embrace.
	
	Her ears quickly swivelled backwards as a rustle in the grass behind her grabbed her attention, roughly tugging her away from her daydream. She stood bolt upright, her large eyes and ears scanning the area for motion. It was probably just a bird, she thought, but the rough click of a crossbow told her otherwise. She didn't even have time to flinch before the bolt landed in her chest with a dull thud. The doe let out a stifled gasp as she staggered backwards, dropping her basket and grunting as the impact  pushed against the tree behind her. Her vision fluttered as she slid down the tree trunk – the metal shaft was embedded almost exactly between her small breasts. She took another fluttery breath, and died.
	
	For a few precious moments, the forest was still. Only when a gentle gust of wind disturbed the doe's short fur without so much as a twitch from her large ears did the culprit reveal himself by exhaling a long, slow breath. He placed his crossbow on the ground with an affectionate pat. “Good girl,” he told it, sneering through ragged buckteeth. With 'her' help, he had scored a perfect kill: There was no screaming, no bloody trail to follow, no awkward interactions, and most importantly, she was irresistibly cute. 
	
	He was Joskuin, a rat-folk. If pressed, he would readily admit that he had been following his quarry for quite some time. He adored her - he followed her to market numerous times, he was well-acquainted with her young lover, and he was there in the alley on that fateful night. He shivered in the cold under a sopping cloak while the two of them were snuggled under warm blankets, tight in each others arms, as close to each other as a boy and a girl could ever be. It burned him, knowing that she gave her love to another like that. He contemplated striking then and there, putting a bolt through her heart from the open window – and her beau's as well, come to think of it - but that would have been  messy. The watch would be called, there would be an investigation, and the guild might not be able to cover him. He was glad he reconsidered, because now he had all the time in the world.
	
	He left his crossbow in the thicket as he stood up, calmly walking over to the doe's corpse. He was a sorry sight – his cloak was tattered, his breeches were faded, and his hooded leather vest was old and ill-fitting. His angular ears were in equally poor shape, the home to numerous punctures and bite-marks. His long, naked tail swayed slowly behind him as his clawed feet rustled through the long grass.
	
	His was a species of pestilence. Many of the more 'civilized' races thought that his people were no better than their feral ilk, scurrying through alleyways, spreading filth, unable to earn a decent living. He enjoyed the stereotypes – no one paid much attention to where he was, or what he was doing, which made it much easier for him to disappear for a few hours.
	
	His hand caressed her large ear as he crouched down in front of her. She was a sorry sight – she was slumped against the tree, her legs splayed, her head flopped downwards onto her chest, as if staring at the bolt through her heart.
	
	“Chin up, sweetheart,” he whispered as he lifted her slender face to his, pressing their muzzles together before forcing his tongue inside her slack jaw. Ester didn't dare protest.
	
	Joskuin broke the lewd gesture of affection, still lifting her head up to stare into those beautiful eyes, still half-opened. The flower was still tucked neatly away behind her ear. It was a lovely accessory, natural and delicate, just like her.
	
	The rat pulled a small knife out from a pocket in his vest. It was a paltry thing, only an inch or two long, with both a flat side and a serrated side. He flipped it in his hands, pressed the serrated edge to her shoulder and cut through the straps of her long dress. "Hold still," he smiled as he cut through to the cold metal shaft embedded in her heart, "Wouldn't wanna cut you." 
	
	He was loathe to ruin her lovely clothes, but her reclined position made her rather difficult to undress using conventional methods, not to mention the dark stain in the centre of the dress had rendered it completely unusable. He drew the dagger further down, stretching the garment to make it easier to cut. When fully extended, the dress reached down almost down to her slender calves, but the way it was hiked up, it barely reached down past her knees, giving the rat a delightful view of her undergarments. Such a tease, he thought.

	The dress was cut away and unfurled, now a blanket for the pair to rest on. Ester wore a loose blouse, brilliant white with ruffled sleeves and a row of black buttons down the front. The stain was darker, or perhaps that was the sharp contrast from the dark, sticky crimson.

	Joskuin placed the dagger aside and straddled the doe's bare legs. He leaned forward to give her a soft peck on the nose before reaching down to undo her blouse, one button at a time. The pretty white cloth stuck to her matted fur where the bolt had landed, and the rat lifted it slowly, as if not wanting to hurt her. He didn't want to accidentally nudge the bolt and spill more of her blood than was necessary. He might stain the ground, and that would be the beginning of a slippery slope that could end up leading back to him.

	The rat loosened his breeches as he opened the blouse, revealing a slender chest that was almost as white at the shirt that covered it moments before. Her breasts were slight, almost child-like, and her belly was trim and fit. The fur on her belly was short enough that he could see her bellybutton, and her pink nipples just barely peeked out from the short white underfur. He roughly took her left breast in a harsh grip, humming in pleasure before leaning down, wrapping his lips around her lukewarm nipple and gripping the supple flesh between his teeth.

	Just the thought of taking his sweet time to explore her body was making the rat throb with excitement. He ran the tip of his fingers deftly down her chest, careful not to nudge the bolt, barely parting the fur. Had she been alive, Joskuin imagined she would be protesting mightily, putting those sharp, cloven hooves to good use. But there was no struggling, no fighting, not even a word of resistance. Just like it should be.
	
	Ester's undergarments were pristine, and sky blue in colour. They hugged her gentle hips tightly, leaving little to the imagination. He could certainly appreciate them as they were, but he had no intention of saving them. Such . . .fetishes had no meaning to him. He pulled the elastic waist tight and snapped it neatly with his dagger, letting the pieces fall away.
	
	He licked his lips in anticipation, saying nothing.  The doe's white underfur grew progressively shorter the lower his beady eyes wandered until it became nearly nonexistent between her legs, blending seamlessly with a delicate pink blossom. The rat pressed a finger to her lower lips, glancing to her face for some hint of a reaction.

 	“I'm not going too fast, am I?”

	Ester was silent.

	The doe's petals were parted, and she politely declined to protest, instead staring blankly at the bolt between her ribs. Joskuin extended his tongue and gave her exposed nether regions a long, slow lick that one would give a lover. He found her warmer inside than outside, and she carried a strong taste that the rat quickly acquired. He tongued her slowly, pressing against her soft nethers, clearly in no hurry.

	Joskuin suddenly caught himself mid-slurp. He had gotten so caught up in his quarry's enticing form that he had almost forgotten the reason he killed her in the first place. The cabal wouldn't be very happy if their star pupil had returned empty-handed! The cabal's cohort of corpses was in dire need of a restocking, and the ambitious rat jumped at the opportunity to add the doe to his morbid harem. But there would be time for that later.

	Only when the dead doe was wet and ready did the rat withdraw, pausing to wipe the slobber off his matted chin. “About time,” he mumbles, dropping his breeches with a jingle. He took a hold of her fragile ankles and dragged them closer, wrapping her legs around his waist. Her head and arms slumped downwards, and her chest jiggled slightly, as if she was taking a final, shuddering breath. A moment later, she was still again. Joskuin took a soft thigh in the crook of each arm and leaned in close, making a soft grunt as his turgid shaft entered her most sacred place. “At last,” he whispered into her ear, savouring her cooling body, “If only I could have been your first . . .”

	The two made gentle, quiet, perfect love. Joskuin showered the doe's face and neck with gentle kisses as he made slow, purposeful thrusts, each heave of his hips making her body quiver slightly. He hissed as he came, the doe's eyes rolling back and her tongue lolling to the side as filthy rat-seed splashed against her lukewarm walls and crawled into her dead, useless womb. The rat pressed his lips to hers, holding her close in a lewd embrace before slowly lowering the both of them to the ground.
	
	There was no rise and fall of her breast, no beating of her bosom. She was perfectly still; serene and peaceful. Sweet nothings were whispered into her ear, and they earned nary a twitch in response.

	Without withdrawing, Joskuin fumbled in the pockets of his pants, pulling out a pair of black, lustreless stones, each roughly the size and shape of a coin. He held her eyelids open and place one on each big brown eye. He pulled out a scroll-case next, tossing the tube aside and unfurling an aged parchment. He began speaking in a low, gravelly tone, and the strange symbols on the scroll began to burn away with each unearthly syllable that left his lips. The black stones turned red, then white-hot, quickly crumbling to grey, lifeless ash as the last symbol on the scroll blew away on the wind. Only then did the rat pull out, leaving a sticky, matted mess between her thighs.

	“Rise,” he commanded.
	
	Ester's body responded by sitting up slowly, the dusty ash crumbling away revealing a pair of white, lifeless eyes.

	“Stand.”
	
	The doe rose to her feet, sliding her back along the trunk of the tree until her cloven feet supported her fully. A trail of cum began to dribble down her leg.

	“Heel,” Joskuin commanded, and began to walk north, towards a hidden sewer, his way back into the city. He never minded the filth, and now that he had swayed Ester to see his point of view, he was sure she would follow him anywhere. Indeed she did, like a lost puppy, keeping a steady pace roughly two feet behind.

	Unbeknownst to the apprentice necromancer, something else stirred in the living corpse. At the moment it was nothing more than a bundle of cells, evidence of the doe's tender moonlight romp a few weeks prior, but the rat's foul magic had a way of . . .influencing its development. What vile beast did the corpse's loins contain?