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But now, in the stronghold of the old dragon and old tragedies, her journal witnesses secrets of the Kingdoms themselves, long kept from scholars and peasants alike. And with the free pages of her diary diminishing in number, so does her journey come to its conclusion.\n\nThe last main part of the series and Marcella's journey. And what high amount of coins, fighting, whoring and sexual fluids I poured into this smut series...writing it has proven to be the experience of my lifetime, and it's something I'm not going to forget for the rest of my days. As well as the people I met thanks to it.\nI'm extremely sorry for the long delay. Real life has come barrelling into my creative pastimes with the force of an angry Russian bear, and my life got rearranged quite a lot since part 20.\nCritique and feedback is always appreciated. Have fun, and I sincerely thank everyone who found enjoyment in the Diary of a Fox Slut!","description_bbcode_parsed":"The diary; the one possession that Marcella has treasured for the past months of her life, has slowly filled up with secrets of her soul. But now, in the stronghold of the old dragon and old tragedies, her journal witnesses secrets of the Kingdoms themselves, long kept from scholars and peasants alike. And with the free pages of her diary diminishing in number, so does her journey come to its conclusion.
The last main part of the series and Marcella's journey. And what high amount of coins, fighting, whoring and sexual fluids I poured into this smut series...writing it has proven to be the experience of my lifetime, and it's something I'm not going to forget for the rest of my days. As well as the people I met thanks to it.
I'm extremely sorry for the long delay. Real life has come barrelling into my creative pastimes with the force of an angry Russian bear, and my life got rearranged quite a lot since part 20.
Critique and feedback is always appreciated. Have fun, and I sincerely thank everyone who found enjoyment in the Diary of a Fox Slut!","writing":"Writing down these events yields me the same feelings I felt back when I got this diary the first time. Just as unnaturally smooth the leather encasing felt back then, just how oddly soothing the smell of paper was, and just as crude I sharpened the graphite pencil with the edge of my blade, is just as I feel now. And perhaps, the anxiety and loneliness that were pushing me into reckless life are still present, I realize the change. It's a blunt, and at the same time subtle development of my life, that is best described as the pointy muzzled, short tailed hunk of a fluffy wolf who has withstood more by my side than anyone had ever should.\n\nEven now I still feel sorry for that mangled ear of his….\n\nSaturday, 10th July 830 / Mountain side stronghold, Village Silhania\n\nThe finding of my fathers gear had shaken me far stronger than I was willing to accept. I rushed along the stone steps and the barren, never ending hallways, my fingers clenched about the sturdy wood of my recurve bow. The green dragon, to whom I lifted my tail to mere hours before, was suddenly to witness my wrath and answer my questions. Another harsh roar came bouncing off the cold walls, rushing down from the direction of the throne room.\n\nI turned to Amand, asking him in a slightly shaky voice, “I really think it's better I go there alone at first...Skimpy Tail, can you do something about that sorceress?”\n\nThe wolf cocked his eyebrow. “...uh...well, I don't want you going alone...but she might be a problem on her own.” He inhaled, scratched his nose, and exhaled before continuing. “No...I'm not risking anything. I'll lock them in their rooms, but I'm right back. He tries anything, he tastes my spear.”\n\n“What can I do, you tribal savage. I'll need your help after all.” I tapped him on his nose lovingly. “Just don't spear her while you're at it, okay?”\n\nHe smirked through worry and darted in the direction of the dragon's harem chambers, running silently. I watched all the way before his short tailed bottom disappeared behind a far corner, and when he was gone, I mustered enough courage to make my way to the throne room. I knew how to approach, how to play the goddess Tanith so I could get under the dragon's skin and start grinding him with questions. But walking into the large chamber in my overt and sudden confidence, I came upon a real shock that I couldn't hope to foresee, and that froze me into a vixen statue just stupidly ogling at the sight before her.\n\nPutrid smell of damp sulphur barraged down my nostrils, a foreshadowing to the massive, winged creature stomping impatiently about the torn up carpets and reflective tiles, with black scales coating its disproportioned body, its head long and pointy, several small, curved horns protruding along its length, and with a tail that was two times as long as its feral body. It roared and sneered in random directions, when the horse wagon sized monstrosity inevitably took a quick notice of me. Heart thumped in my chest as I tried to grasp myself, only for me to keep standing there motionless at the creature's mercy.\n\nThe large dragon, waddling next to me on all four in a clearly feral, yet as if completely mutilated form, bellowed in a booming male voice. “And who are you?” He was closing all distance fast, eyes locked with mine.\n\nI tried to back away instinctively, hoping to distance myself, but I only ended up trapping myself between him and one of the chamber's white columns. The dragon nudged me with the tip of his bony muzzle, his head larger than my whole torso, and inhaling greedily, he spread his wings as if to stretch them.\n\n“...could it be? You bear her blood!” he exclaimed, the pupils of his dark-grey eyes dilating. “Lynell! Get down here already!”\n\nHis voice was rough and powerful, causing me to shiver uncontrollably. The presence of something so large scared me above everything else, not to mention that the forceful blasts of his breaths rattled my equipment and dug into my fur. Mustering all of my courage I tried to wriggle away, but the black dragon only pressed me against the pillar tighter, placing his huge front paws on either side of my legs.\n\nHe hissed angrily, staining my thighs with droplets of unusually warm spit, “Stay right there….” The dragon then nudged himself lower, sniffing at my pubes through my blouse. “Oh absolutely...very little taint in your blood. You do descent from her...and you smell of at least two hundred different males too...counting in my brother.”\n\nI tightened my grip about my bow, and as if the dragon sensing it, he grasped it with his maw, tore it from my hand, and threw it to the side.\n\nThe stare he then gave me was nothing short of horrific. “I doubt it you came here to offer yourself...do you have a name, pretty thing?”\n\nI looked down on him, when he rose to level his muzzle with mine. I gasped sharply, his breath burning against my cheeks, his eyes hungrily darting about my face.\n\n“We don't have to speak if you don't want to...it only suits me.” His mocking tone spurred me to react.\n\nI hissed him my reply, “Warrior Vixen...is what they call me….” Then I sneaked my hand onto my belt and hovered it about the hilt of my sword, ready to unsheathe it. I knew I hardly stood any chance, but what the dragon's smell and actions told me of him, I was certain his intentions were far from noble.\n\nHe drew air, about to speak up, when I heard another set of large claws clacking against the chamber's tiles, belonging to the green-grey dragon. His smell was distinct enough to pierce even the tangent waft of sulphur hanging in the large room. To his butt was stuck his creamy white blanket, all spotted with copious amounts of ejaculate and my fur, and with the wonkiest of his expressions yet, he wobbled some distance next to us.\n\nThe tall dragon morph stuttered, “What...what are you...Tanith? Why...w-why are you clothed? You aren't leaving love, are you?” His confusion only added to the whole situation.\n\n“Ah, took your sweet time, brother,” the dark scaled dragon remarked, even gleefully, when he eased the pressure and allowed me some breathing room. “My poor...this is not Tanith. You know, perhaps, because she's dead? Has that slipped your attention again?” His voice coloured into a darker tone as he walked about the large chamber, scraping his long, tapered tail along the floor.\n\nAlmost a whole minute passed before the green dragon reacted. “D-dead?! She is right here….”\n\nThe large feral dragon chuckled dryly, as if it was all a simple routine for him. “No, unless she dug herself out of whatever sticky grave she found herself in, rolled her bones in beef meat, skinned twenty foxes to make herself a new furcoat, and came crawling for you the first thing after she poured the brain of your regular rabbit into her skull. See, Lynell - I'm repeating your name in case you forgot it - this vixen hardly got here to procreate with you. Certainly not when she brought with herself a virile wolf...” He steamed the surrounding air, switching his playful sarcasm for a full blown anger. “…that is happily trampling about the castle, right behind your back, jeopardizing everything!”\n\nI clutched the hilt of my father's sword painfully tight.\n\nLynell bulged his eyes out. Despite his outward appearance of firmly defined features and large, slightly curved horns, he seemed as if a young child being disciplined. “But...but...I...” He blurt out in a low voice. “I washed her. There are no more wolves here.”\n\n“You dumb idiot…! Go! And bring him here...I could use them both.” The large dragon roared, furrowing his brow so deeply that his eyes almost disappeared.\n\nHis brother recoiled. He then lifted his muzzle and sniffed, turning for the hallway right away. “W-will do.” His blanket followed after him, still stuck to his firm behind and noisily sliding across the ground. If not for the dire nature of the situation, it would have been a comical display.\n\nA sinking feeling twisted my insides; I feared for Amand's well being, as any risk that was coming his way, was caused by my actions and decisions. I had to do something. Anything.\n\nBeing left in the chamber with the dark, feral dragon alone, I shot him the first question that itched my tongue “What are you anyway?” Then, encircling the pillar slowly, the dragon following after my shambling footsteps, I tried to keep a healthy distance from him.\n\nHe grinned in an oddly friendly manner. “That's not something I'm about to share with you. Hmm…a better question would be, who are you?”\n\nI mustered what little sarcasm I could, taunting him, “What...you don't need to know my name to bone me, do you?”\n\n“Ah, snide just like her. Tell me...aren't you Gale's daughter?”\n\nAs soon as those words reached my ears, my heart stopped beating.\n\nMy distress was an easy picking for him, and since I froze in spot again, the dragon neared closer and closer. “Thought so...that sneaky fox. He swore his daughter died at the age of seventeen...now it's all starting to make sense.”\n\nI don't know if it was rage, horror, or something else altogether, but my ribcage was as if to explode, my bones creaking and hurting so much, and in my freshly broken mind, I ceased to think.\n\n“I cannot believe he tricked me,” the dragon said with an otherworldly dose of amusement. “Poor feller...and you crawl up here all on your own...what and oddity of extreme luck.”\n\nI shook to the core, my feet trembling, my head reeling, and my tail only coiled about my thigh.\n\nIn his last few paces, he approached me in a predatory fashion, even licking his fangs with his obscenely long, dark fleshed tongue. “You're almost completely pure...maybe it will work.”\n\nMy vixenhood clamped fully shut. My skin burned and my fur stood up, and flicking my eyes across the chamber, I found my bow just lying there on the floor, beckoning to be used. Just looking at it, I knew I had it in me to fight back.\n\nHe bit his lower lip. “Lost your tongue again? A shame, really...Tanith was a good conversationalist. I could use some courting before I dive into you...” With his voice falling silent, I heard a soft, but at the same time clear, fleshy sound of something massive dropping out of a sheath. If the nauseating trickle of liquids accompanying it was not enough, the smell that had hit me in the nose, so heavy in sulphuric musk, was the breaking point for me.\n\nThe dragon, crouching low to the ground, readying to pounce me, made sure to voice his intentions as well, “I can smell those wards on you, miss Gale. Else my numbskull of a brother would have likely impregnated you already-”\n\nI snapped, “What have you done to my father, you dirty bastard!?”\n\nHe only chuckled, soldering my rage further, “Nothing he hadn't done to himself on his own. Now, I believe that ward is coming from your ring...and I'd like it removed.”\n\nThe dragon was the closest yet, close enough for me to spy a deep scar marking his muzzle; a cavernous ridge running all the way from his eyelid down to his upper lip. I only suspected, and hoped as well, that it was the handiwork of my father Matias. The hope that my father had fought back, whatever it was he did and wanted in that place, filled me with strength.\n\nBut I couldn't help but be curious. “What's so important about me...can't you just knock up your harem girls?”\n\n“For one, they are incredibly ugly….” The dragon laughed softly, but with his size, his voice thundered in the room. “They are not my harem. Lynell has some odd fetish for humans...still, that is not the problem. You see, our seed simply isn't seeping into fruitful soil, so to speak. Abretius had never really intended for us to spread, at least, those of us that weren't pure from the nature.”\n\n“And you think that fucking me is somehow going to fix that?” However much I wanted to unsheathe my father's sword and start hacking away, the happy to share dragon captivated me.\n\nNudging at my thighs again, the big, winged monstrosity deeply inhaled my scent. “Perhaps? There is some kind of...how to put it really. Code in us, that is the best word. The master mage had simply realised that somehow, and he started experimenting with it, not caring for the consequences. Well, I think he traded length of our life for our ability to procreate. But there is a slight chance, that breeding one of his original creations might yield results.”\n\n“...a single man really created all of us? Is that what you're telling me?” I continued, rasping, “And if you think I'm going to open my legs for you, you are deathly mistaken.”\n\nThe dragon chuckled. “I'm not asking you to open anything, my dear. To answer you: he wasn't alone in it...it was a whole guild. The guy would have created a lot more, but his personal fox goddess he had created for himself, Tanith, well, she killed him. It was a mess back then...the orcs - oh, those lovely abominations. What was the guy's name...” He turned his head to the side, as if completely forgetting about me. “...Franolo? Ah, matters not. He really botched it creating creatures from some fictional fairy tales. Those damn orcs levelled this place completely.”\n\nMy ears twitched hearing all that.\n\nHe paced left to right, giving me well measured gazes of his empty eyes. “Perhaps...you can have this place for yourself? And I'll let you keep your wolf too. Lynell is hardly able to fulfil his tasks, and you're a smart fox.”\n\n“Are you mad?! Help you? After who knows what you did to my father?!”\n\nIn my momentary outburst of emotions, the dragon used the opening and pounced atop me, his twisted yet no less powerful body throwing me to the ground and holding me in place. At the sight of his large dragon penis, fleshy pink, bulbous, and oozing with mating fluids, I whimpered scared.\n\n“Oh, you poor thing,” he taunted me, solidifying his dominance over me. “All the trouble he went through...to hide your presence...and you trample here yourself. I'm starting to question your intelligence.”\n\nI had enough of him. And even if pinned down, with his disgusting organ hovering about the hem of my blouse, his large dragon paws restricting my movement, I was determined to fight back. His smile was nothing short of creepy as he freed my right hand and instructed me to remove my magical ring. But the only thing I removed was the malcontent look on his face, using my battle spell of condensed air against him. His jaw smacked loudly against his skull, and the dragon, bellowing in pain, tumbled several steps back.\n\nI reached for my sword, but the dragon stomped frantically about, trying to restrict me once more. I cried in shock and I shone my magical light into his eyes, forcing him to howl in high pain, when he jumped aback with the aid of his wings. That was the opening I needed. I unsheathed my father's sword, and giving it my all, I slashed the dragon across his face. He recoiled as I frantically beat into his skull, chipping at his impenetrable scales. The feral beast groaned and writhed in pain, walking further back, and I, arching my back, jumped onto my feet. It was a fast dash for my bow after freeing myself. The short distance felt as if it was spanning across several kingdoms, and even having my precious recurve bow in my clutch again, picking it up had hardly saved me.\n\nThe black dragon, panting and roaring, came after me with overwhelming speed. His aggravated voice was the only warning I received. “I expected you to fight.”\n\nJust as I lifted few arrows to start pelting him with, a warm tide of air took the legs from under me, crashing me into the floor and sliding me across a patch of rough carpet. The magical blast, much like my own spell, crackled loud and dazed me upon impact, and my splayed over form was assaulted by the feral dragon. I nocked an arrow quickly and fired it at him. With how anxiously he was closing the distance, the arrow lodged itself right into his nostril, causing him to cry out in high pitched agony. Kicking his jaw to push myself away from him, I shambled onto my legs, and before he could react, his red blood trickling onto the wooden shaft and his upper lip, I dashed for one of the white columns littering the throne room.\n\nThen the actual fight started.\n\nWe pelted each other with barrage of projectiles, mine arrows doing hardly other than snapping in two against his rough scales, and his magical blasts and fireballs, resonating loudly across the chamber, kept me firmly at bay. My heart was beating all the way up my throat, knowing that what was at stake was not just my life, but also the well being of my lone-wolf extraordinary. Despite all the trouble I had just peeking around the columns to send my arrows at the dragon, it knew very well he was holding back. That had changed when I took special care to aim one of my shots. The arrow snapped from my bow, hit the angered dragon in his brow, and its metal tip breaking off, it cut into his eye.\n\nHe bellowed in hatred, “You vile slut! Come out!”\n\nA sound of a deep inhale seeped throughout the chamber, causing the air about me to tingle. I gasped, knowing what was to come, and pressed myself against the white pillar. My tail coiled close to my leg just in time for the feral beast to breath fire at me. Shutting my eyes, I trembled, burning fur and intense heat scraping at my nose. If not for the column, I would have been burned to ash, and even so, the wall of blazing flames was so loud that my ears ringed, and so intense in heat that I had to scream to withstand the pain. And once it stopped, only deathly silence remained, invaded by the faint howling of the outside air, blowing past the crumbled wall of the throne chamber.\n\n“Yield!” the dragon growled, his heavy footsteps approaching. “I can do far worse, miss Gale.”\n\nHis threats, while very real, were of no significance to me. I inhaled the smell of burned fur, and the stinging stench chafed my senses, spurring me to action. I walked from behind the charred column, sending arrow after whistling arrow at the monstrous black dragon. Most broke against his thick skin, but some pierced his wings and two lucky ones lodged themselves into his weakly scaled joints. In response, he sent his tail flicking at me, the sharp protrusions in the tip whipping with a loud crack mere whiskers away from my nose. It was clear he was no longer trying to gently restrict me.\n\nLaunching arrows still, the rush of the fight got the better of me and I taunted him, “You wished for the Warrior Vixen...now face her wrath!”\n\nHaving made my way next to the throne, I ducked behind it to avoid a fast fireball that had roared about my folded ear. It exploded on the stone wall and showered me in white sparks, spots of stinging pain on my muzzle and bare thighs agonizing me further. He lost all restraint. I caught my breath, reaching for my quiver. And cursing my luck, I only found the last of my arrows waiting for me there, for my trembling fingers. My spirit, along with my muzzle, had sunk completely.\n\nThe dragon was slowly approaching, his heavy stomps eating away at me, and his words, full of hatred, were just as horrific. “I haven't lived for three hundred years for some slut to top me. Last chance to spread 'em before I devour you in flames!”\n\nIt was everything or nothing, all of my fate staked upon one feathered arrow - a clear embodiment of my dreams and hopes. I stepped from behind the high throne, shaking in pain, fear and nausea, and with my bow drawn fully back, I've waited. He did not. The dragon inhaled through his flaring nostrils, his eyes deeply locked with mine, when, arching his back profoundly, he opened his maw to exhale flames at me.\n\nThat was my cue. My aim was right on the mark. My body was relaxed and firm. And my mind, always so loud and full of carnal desires, stepped aside to let me do my deed. The string of my recurve bow slipped my fingertips, and the arrow, carrying forth my hate and anger, lodged itself into his wide open mouth.\n\nI could see the flames lighting up in his muzzle, when he gasped throatily, slapped his mouth shut, trapped his breath in his confines, and his maw sparked ablaze. What was meant to wipe me from existence exploded in his throat, and the white flames, shooting from his nostrils with distinct hissing, were my hopes coming true. The black dragon then stomped about the room, coughing up blood and smoke all over the floor. Once he managed to spew the arrow out and even greater amounts of putrid smelling blood with it, he lost all strength and slumped against one of the pillars, wheezing sharply. I stood next to the throne, just watching as his chest heaved up and down in his ragged breaths. The stinging guilt of killing was undeniable, but compared to the triumphant victory flowing through my exhausted body, it was of no notice. How powerful I felt is impossible to put into words, for I, the measly slut coming from the small fox village Fialnov, had slain a dragon. I cautiously approached the dying abomination, only then realising just how sickly he was, with writhing scales and bony joints, and at the sight of me, he weakly grunted in pain.\n\nWhen, finally, the feelings for my wolf interrupted my little mental parade. I picked up my father's sword up from the ground, the edge giving a sharp shine, and turning for the arched entry door, I was met with Lynell's oddly focused stare.\n\nWitnessing the massacre before him was too much for his already fragile mind. “Tanith? What did you do...how could you? W-why?” He then wobbled lifelessly in spot, his arms just hanging at his sides. “How could you...how. Why did you betray me, my only love! Why had you killed my only family?!”\n\nThe green-gray dragon furrowed his eyes into thin lines. I knew I was in trouble, as he opened his maw and puffed black smoke, roaring in deep anger. His bellows were just as loud as the black dragon's ones and I winced in shock, having the sinking feeling he was to attack me. I had no arrows to fire, no spells to use - with my spell power diminished - and even the pillars were too far to quickly duck behind. But before he could do anything at all, Amand rushed into the room. The wolf was, from the first glance, severely rugged and holding onto the short straight sword in his wolfish hand, his pointy muzzle slightly burned and void of expression.\n\nHe hadn't hesitated one bit when he drove the straight steel into the chest of the tall dragon, piercing him all the way to the hilt. Disjointed grunts emanated from both their muzzles, the two males locked together in fatal connection. I watched in disbelief as my wolf then tore the sword out of the dragon, and Lynell not only refusing to go down but also preparing to unleash his pillar of flames, my otherwise sensitive wolf side swept the short sword into the dragon's neck. One hit was enough to carve his large neck open, but the tribal wolf hadn't stopped there. No, he withdrew the sword, blood cascading from the morbidly open gash, and putting all of his body into his strike, he cut the dragon's head clean off.\n\nThe massive dragon head - tongue lolling out and facial muscles still twitching - slapped into the ground soundly, stopping its travel after two spins. Amand looked even more dead. He was sprayed with fresh blood, smoke rising from his tribal braids in wild curls, and he deeply wrinkled his pointy muzzle. When, throwing the sword to the ground, he waddled next to one of the pillars and seemed as if to hurl any coming second.\n\n“...sometimes…,” the wolf rasped. “Sometimes I hate your guts, Marcella.”\n\nHe had all the right to do so. “I couldn't see this coming...I'm sorry…,” I uttered sincerely, making my way back to the throne. Even if I wanted to wrap myself around the wolf, glad he was safe, sound, and with all his wolfish bits intact, my head started to spin so fast I had to sit down.\n\nAmand pointed at the heap of bloodied, bony scales lying dead against the white pillar. “What in the hell is that?”\n\n“If I knew...I'm glad he's dead, though.” I laid back in the throne, its cushion digging into my fur and its seat still warm from all the fireballs it had absorbed. Closing my eyes, I tried to make sense of things. “He...he wanted to breed me. That I have Tanith's blood...stupid dragon...both of them.”\n\n“Filthy bastard. And you killed him...on your own?” It sounded so strange coming from his trembling lips. “Are you sure you aren't a goddess after all?”\n\nI laughed dryly, “Shut up, wolf-god Arazus.”\n\nHe absently looked over the corpses, first his own handiwork of a beheaded, two metre tall green dragon, lying in a drying pool of blood, and then he pointed his muzzle at the large pile of black scales, which appeared completely amorphous and reeked so badly as if it was already rotting. I heard Amand throw up in his mouth before he spat it all out into a pool of rusty red blood at his feet.\n\nI could only do one thing. I fished this very diary from my side bag, sliding my finger pads across the smooth leather encompassing it, hoping to calm myself in its pages. I looked at Amand, a jolt of pleasure running through me as soon as our eyes met. “...you won't mind, right?”\n\nHe walked onto the steps upon which the throne was elevated. Then, giving me sharp yet passionate look, he groaned, “No. Go writing love...I need a serious rest myself….” Cushioning his behind on the stairs, I felt the wolf calming, even if his expression was nothing short of utter despair.\n\nI spent long hours writing in the diary, all until the first rays of the morning sun lighted up the thick clouds. Even the events preceding the bloodbath felt surreal, and before I could finish fully, we got interrupted by the former dragon god's oldest harem member. She was standing in the entryway of the large chamber, her alabaster skin and long, nude legs covered only by a dark coloured silk coat, opened lewdly and revealing both her breasts and pubic mound. What of her slightly wrinkled yet oddly vital face I could see, hidden under a large cape, widened in shock as she barrelled inside. But in spite of her bright eyes bulging out, the two dragon corpses, twisted atop the floor as if grotesque puppets, hadn’t seemed to hinder her one bit as she made her way towards us.\n\nShe stopped in front of the steps, her long robe swaying back and forth before coming to a stop as well, and in a voice somewhere between amusement and lamenting, she said, “You killed them both? H-how...did you really kill my gods?”\n\nThe air about my nose tingled with high magic and Amand sprung to his feet, ready to interfere. I could see her gazing into the wolf's eyes, unblinking, some strange sort of obedience sparking in them. When, swiftly dropping to her knees, she bowed her head before my wolf, almost touching his feet with her forehead. She stayed like that for a short while, before the caped woman looked up obediently, rising to face Amand's midsection.\n\n“That...that means…,” she stammered, calming only once she closed her eyes. “...only a god can slay a god. You must be...oh, my true god. A powerful wolf. W-what is your name?”\n\nMy lover shot me a glance, one eyebrow raised high in disbelief, and turning his muzzle back to face her, he responded, “Amand.”\n\nShe squeaked in a high pitch, “Yes. Yes! My lord Amand!”\n\nAmand gasped. The enigmatic sorceress opened his trousers and gently worked her fingers into the lone wolf's sheath, stirring a pointy shaped reaction in almost no time at all.\n\nHer breaths turned ragged as much as her cheeks turned red. “...you smell of power and rule, my god. My body is to be used as you please.”\n\n“Are you out of your mind?!” Amand swatted her hands away. “Lay yourself off me!” It was not hard to understand him, sex was the last thing on both of our minds. But for her, having a knotty wolf before her - after the long nights she must have spent fantasizing about one - was too tempting not to act upon.\n\nI chuckled dryly at the sight, but felt too empty to really enjoy pestering my wolf, “You're such a tease, Amand. You have to show your followers some appreciation too, not just order them around.”\n\nHe fumbled with his violet pants as he looked over his shoulder, such scorn playing in his eyes I laughed again, and the fair aged women, on her knees, looking pleadingly up, wrapped her arms about the wolf.\n\n“Please.” She whispered in a clear voice. “Anything you wish of me? I knew you'd come...a wolf...a true wolf. I prayed for it every night...I w-will be a good servant.”\n\nMy lover looked at me again. What was in his richly brown eyes was pity, but not the scornful kind, which is almost as sad an emotion as the deepest hate, but the caring kind, as he flipped over the cape of the kneeling women, giving her curly locks of dirty blonde hair a gentle rub.\n\nHe made one of his distinctly adorable whines. “You poor girl….” That short tail of his fanned to and fro, the man clearly enjoying his status of a wolf god. “There is something I'd want of you. Can you remove these false gods we had slain? It's getting difficult breathing in here.”\n\nShe nodded, and raising to her feet, turning around with grace I've rarely seen even in the best of courtesans, the master wizard focused and swirled her arms in wide gestures, the air tingling with magic energy.\n\nI interrupted her quickly, “Wait!” She recoiled, giving me an unsure glance, and I finished my request. “Leave the head of the green one, okay?”\n\nHer eyes widened at first. The expression made her seem ten times younger, when she acknowledged my request and focused once more, her long black coat swirling about her curves. Soundless thunderbolts shot from her fingertips. They glowed in colourless yellow of such brightness that they burned into my vision, and as they hit the mutilated corpses, all wings, scales and ill smelling blood, they sparked ablaze. Their flesh was consumed right before my eyes, coiled in her magic. With no smoke and no smell, the only proofs of our actions vanished into bright sparks, the blood dried on the floor burning along as if lantern oil. Only the severed head remained.\n\nWe both, Amand and I, gasped at the sight. If anything, it proved to us just how powerful and skilled she was, yet, she only knelt before the wolf again, sinking her eyes to look at his feet.\n\nHer voice purred with arousal. “I did as you instructed, Amand. My lord. My god.” What was in her seemed as if pure submission; a love for the toothy, braided soul mate of mine that had slain her god. She looked up hesitantly, her voice shaking, and she asked, “I shall repent for this...but, my god, I want to...I want to wash you off the blood. Please, let me clean your divine body.” Once done, she practically splayed her chest on the floor, resting her head on the wolf's foot.\n\nHe glanced at me again, his wordless question twisting his pointy muzzle. And relaxing myself on the throne further, I gave him my answer, “Mmmh...giving in to your divine duties, Skimpy Tail? I knew you had it in you!” I chuckled, drunk on power.\n\nHe shook his head, a large, nervous smile spreading all the way to his cheeks. “This is crazy...I'm no god. Nor are you, you damn fox.” His tone was light, even when he addressed his admirer again. “Stand up. On your feet, I said.” As she was hesitant to follow, he gave her his dark furred paw to lift her up. “...I don't know how that dragon treated you...but I want you to look me in the eyes when you speak with me, okay? And what is your name?”\n\n“...Mila...why would you be interested in my name?” Her knees seemed to be ready to buckle up any coming second.\n\n“Is that really so strange?” He caressed her cheek. “...but I already love another...just so you know that.”\n\nMy heart fluttered, even through all the dread and emptiness that was lingering in me.\n\nMila glanced at me, her forehead wrinkling, when she aimed her eyes back at the wolf. “Can...can I speak with your fox companion?”\n\nAnd the wolf, making a profound, rumbling growl, shot me a deeply affectionate gaze. “She is not my companion...Marcella is my everything. Treat her like a goddess...okay?”\n\nI felt my face widening into a smile. We were long past the point of accepting each other, of coming to terms with how different we were, yet, the feeling of our souls being as if one, came dazing me just like the first time when we met in the woods. Amand kissed me passionately before he tapped in the direction of the grand bath, and I stood up from the throne, being drawn to the large opening in the castle wall. Behind it the winds blew in sharp blasts, a torn rag of a flag dancing atop the wild gales, flapping against the rough wall. And bellow, hidden in icy mist, was the sole village Sillhania, of unfriendly rock and wrapped in green pines. A place forgotten in both time and place.\n\n“M-Marcella?” The fair aged woman approached me. “I wouldn't hinder you if...if I didn't believe this was important.” She then fell onto her knees, acting just like with Amand.\n\n“Stand up, sweetheart.” Her act of servility left a rotten taste in my mouth. It was something I never fancied out of play and fantasy. “We are all equals here. What did you want, Mila?” I suspected something foul of the master wizard for a second, but her scent was pure and void of taint, just as her actions.\n\nShe faced me hesitantly, hint of fear in her expression. “Your...your face. It looks like him. Six years back - by my lords, it feels like several decades - my dragon gods brought over a male fox...a warrior by the first glance-”\n\n“Matias?!” I barked, my innards trembling. “You met him? What has happened to him?”\n\nShe continued, calmer. “I...please, my lady. Are you his daughter? You look just like him.” Her words, which were dry as sand before, picked up a light tone of passion.\n\nQuestions came pouring from me as if wild claws. “Yes! What became of him? What was that bastard doing here?!”\n\n“He...well...I don't really know, but...” She grew distant. “Up to that point, I was helping my lords to find a suitable mate...they couldn't procreate with us, for whatever reason, and it was our duty to fulfil their wish. We looked for the descendants of Tanith, Alfonsa...anyone we could. Your father...you clearly...oh, forgive me, my goddess.”\n\n“Go on...please.”\n\nShe hugged herself. “You...you have her blood. I can sense it. He had too, but...being a male, he was of no direct use. Your father almost killed our god that day, but he lost the fight. I was supposed to take care of him, and he was nothing but burned fur and broken bone. Oh...he talked a lot about you...he wouldn't stop for long hours...gosh, those blue eyes of his, always so bright, as he talked of his only daughter...old fool. I was ordered to pry your whereabouts from him, and he told me everything on his own.”\n\nI shed a searing hot tear, hearing of my old fox after all the years I had spent looking for him. The hollowness within my chest pulsed with both agony and happiness.\n\nMila faced away from me, her legs quaking. “I...couldn't do what they asked me to, even if my gods. He...that fox...I couldn't understand it. I risked my life...keeping everything he told me a secret. Then, one day-” She started to wheeze. “-he wasn't in his bed. How stupid I was...he got better, and he, he...sneaked into the armoury, and attacked Lynell.” The master wizard broke into tearless sobs. “That...no. He...my god, tore him to shreds...I've never felt that awful.”\n\nMy mood sunk to the absolute bottom. Of all the pain I've felt in my life, what I heard the moment, was as if the sharpest of knives being forced into my vixen heart.\n\nI whispered in a mixture of emotions I've felt plenty of, but never in such intensity. Of triumph meeting loss, love meddling with hatred, and hope shattered into pieces. “...so he...died….”\n\n“I'm sorry, my goddess.”\n\nThe need to know more took over me. “Has he said anything else? Of why he came here...anything?” But I was so sapped of life I couldn't even care for an answer, only sinking my muzzle into my hands.\n\n“I really don't know. I'm sorry….”\n\nI cried my anger into the ceiling high above, my heart thumping, and my self-control slipping.\n\nMila raised her eyebrows and opened her eyes fully wide, taking several uneasy steps back. Even if she could kill me with a simple wave of her hand, spark me ablaze like a dry twig in a fireplace, she was scared of the vixen 'goddess' and her rage.\n\nI needed to be alone. I sent her to go and pleasure Amand in the bath, and as I walked about the large chamber, the smell of death and decay having finally washed away, I stopped next to the cut off head, with its large eyes open and its dragon tongue almost fully grey, however pink it was before. Only then, holding the cold scales in my hands, had I realised what kind of feat had we managed - slaying the creatures which had witnessed the creation of our kind. But at the same time, it was such a meaningless act. Since after all had been stripped away, I only cared for him. The damned wolf.\n\nI left the head at the throne and I traversed the castle, losing myself in my thoughts. Through the corridors echoed the moans of a sought after copulation, of my short tailed lover and the master wizard, her shrieks so loud I knew the wolf's knot had just got in. I chuckled for myself and smiled, and while the burden I felt within me was heavy, I knew I could finally find peace in my mind. To let go, and live my life. For some reason, knowing that my father had died in a fight, brought calm to the anxiety which had pursued me for almost ten years of my life. A fitting, if perhaps crude end for such a skilled fox warrior.\n\nLater in the day, when my wolf Amand had marked every orifice of Mila's with his seed, we finally found the time just for ourselves. I looked at the happily snoring woman, bent over her bed, nude and sticky, and I felt dirty just watching the half transparent fluids flow about her curves.\n\n“Gosh, the poor woman.” I teased Skimpy Tail's nose. “She won't be able to walk for a few days.”\n\nHe looked at me, as if a feral wolf about to pounce his prey. “Jealous?”\n\n“Bastard. And I dunno...wasn't it you who killed my virile dragon?” I slapped him with my fox brush.\n\nWe laughed together, clung arm to arm as we left the room and walked toward the last stop of our stay in the old stronghold - the gold vault. I would have even forgotten about it if not for Amand, and as soon as he unlocked the massive wooden door, hidden behind a maze of cramped corridors, just the smell of all the gold coins rendered me breathless. I passed through the door, thicker than my hips, behind them a soft darkness hiding the treasures therein, and snapping my fingers, lighting up the one single candle that was present there, I washed the dim light away.\n\nOff white stone columns and coins piled en mass reflected light of richly gold colour, submerging surrounding walls and aged furniture in flickering patterns; and me, mouth agape, strolled mindlessly forward. The room, about as big as a spacious bedroom chamber, was seemingly small hidden under all the waves of gold, with one of its corners fully submerged all the way to the ceiling. It lured me forth.\n\n“A courtesan's wet dream…,” I heard myself mutter.\n\nAmand snickered, “It's missing something...a bit of sauce perhaps, my love?”\n\n“A sauce...” I chuckled, “Dear...more like ten buckets of freshly gathered wolf cum.”\n\nHis laugh resonated in the small room, “If I wasn't spent already, I would have provided.” Then, tapping atop the coins, he squatted down to gather gold into his leather backpack. “I'm...I'm really sorry to hear about your father. You all right? I want to...I'm here.”\n\nI joined him at his side, fishing all of my gold pouches to start stuffing them with coin. “It's not easy...but...I'm glad I know now. I don't know what he wanted here, really...but I feel it was to protect me, somehow.” I pressed my nose into the soft fur sprouting from the wolves cheeks. “Or it's just...the illusion of him that I've had for so long in my mind...it kept me going.”\n\n“...I understand. The only things that had ever kept me going were you and Marat.” He looked into my eyes, placing his wolfish hand on my cheek. “By the forest spirits...how much I love you.”\n\nI lost myself in his soft, yet so well defined eyes, of dark brown colour and loving gaze, when I leaned closer to nibble at his thin lips. “You silly wolf...I love you too.”\n\nHe sparked my senses ablaze as he pressed his muzzle on mine, his thick scent washing over my nostrils, and sliding his warm tongue in, I welcomed it happily with my own. What little of his newest conquest, the sorceress Mila, I could taste on him, was strongly overshadowed by his potent musk that intoxicated me, sending me into a small heat. If not for that stinging pain inside me, I would have happily opened for him on the thick layer of glistening coins.\n\n“You still taste of that dragon,” he exclaimed in a cheeky tone, licking my nose to mark the end of the kiss.\n\nI slapped his behind for the remark, forcing him to yelp, and grinning at each other, we continued gathering the gold.\n\nHe was almost done pouring coins into the backpack, when he shared his thoughts, “Makes me wonder, what did they need all this gold for? It's not like they had to buy stuff.”\n\n“Not from the village, certainly...I'd rather not think about it. I doubt knowing any of that would bring me any sort of happiness, wolf,” I sighed.\n\nPouches stuffed with gold and our hearts closer than ever before, we locked the vault behind us, ready to leave the castle. Amand only wanted to stop by Mila's bedroom. He said he'd feel guilty if he vanished without a proper goodbye. We found her cushioned on her bed and rubbing her belly, those lean fingers of her digging into her soft skin, travelling all the way to her still parting vaginal slit. Upon sighting Amand, she shuffled from the bed and onto her knees, wrapping herself about his pelvis.\n\nHe whined in a high tone, “I told you not to do that….” But despite his words, he caressed her hair, combing her curly strands with claws.\n\nIt was quite the sight seeing her plead for my wolf to stay, degrade herself on her own in front of him and kiss his body all over. Alas, for her, he was tied to me, and us both encouraging her to take over the castle, we were ready to leave. But before walking out of her well kept bedroom, all decorated with violet draperies and comfy looking seats, sharp white light barging in from one small window, she halted us. The sorceress lifted a long spear from behind a closet, and giving it a lengthy, oddly thorough brushing, I recognized it as Amand's.\n\nShe presented it to Skimpy Tail, smiling ear to ear. “I found your spear, my wolf lord. You seemed quite sad...talking about how you lost it.”\n\n“I thought it was gone!” He exclaimed, swatting a chair over with his tail. “Thanks. It was a gift from Marcella...and don't mourn. I'll watch over you, okay?” He kissed her on the forehead, the fair aged woman shaking visibly, and before leaving, the wolf whispered in her ear, “Goodbye, Mila.”\n\nI smiled, saying my own parting words, “Thanks for helping my father...I know he's gone...but I'm glad he met a friendly soul in his last days.”\n\nShe hesitantly reached for my hand, squeezing my furred paw in her sleek fingers. “It seemed like the wrong choice at the time...but now that I know you're my true gods...ohh, please, I beg your pardon, goddess Marcella, I should have done more to save him...can you ever forgive me?”\n\n“It's all right.” I caressed her cheek. “Rule this place better than those bastards. And give it a bit of a fluff up, you hear? Bordeaux cloths can liven up any gloomy old castle right back up. The advice from the goddess of courtesans.”\n\nMila almost broke into tears when we walked away from her bedroom, the aged, enigmatic sorceress rubbing her belly the last thing before she closed the doors behind us. I left in good spirits, knowing she'd do fine on her own. We double checked our gear and I picked up the dragon's head, suspecting it would greatly help us in getting through the village. Well, and I really wanted to pay the mayor Razrus a parting visit as well, if only to see him squirm under the gaze of his beheaded deity. The stronghold, at the first glance a place of mystery, was really only a limestone held together tragedy. A tragedy of knowledge and possibility. One that I was anxious to leave, and forget ever visiting. I felt we had only scratched the surface of the past long gone, of the magical experiments, abhorrent winged dragons, and masters of magic so powerful that their work lived on centuries later, yet, I rather selfishly chose the small spark of a spell I had going with the beautiful lone-wolf Amand. It was to last for the rest of our lives at best, but it was more than I could ever ask for.\n\nIn terms of acceptance\n\nBy the time we had left the sturdy walls of the stronghold, the sun had travelled all the way to the far gone mountains, casting long shadows across the descending path. We remained silent for most of our way, either focused, or too tired to speak. It was too much of a haze for me to tell. And just as I expected, the twisting gravel road led right into the foot of the village, giving me the sought out opportunity of facing the mayor.\n\nI checked up on Amand, who was already toting his spear and frowning deeply. Noticing my gaze, he pulled at his belts and clothes, making sure they held in place. “I still think that's incredibly crude.” He said, pointing at the severed dragon head.\n\nI did the same with my left hand, tugging at my leather armour and weapons to see if they firmly fit in place, and with my right, I waived the head in front of the wolf's face. “You had your god time, oh so powerful and virile wolf lord. Can't I have my share too?”\n\n“...you've already got called a goddess so many times my head spins,” he said through his teeth. “And expecting them to yield...I don't know. Don't get me wrong, I'm angry at that bastard. But this will end with bloodshed.”\n\nUnlike the first time when we came upon the place, the streets of Silhania were bustling with humans. Most, given their lighted torches and weary expressions, were thoroughly searching for any clues of our presence, while the rest were gathered on the largest town square. Amand led us skilfully street to street, not a single eye catching a glimpse of us, when, right next to the crowd, I perked my ears to listen in.\n\nI immediately made out Razrus' voice. It was such a scrape against my ears, I had to fight to keep them perked up. “...signalled the fires, but no response came. We have to find those demons...our god won't take kindly to this level of ineptitude.”\n\nSince he mentioned his dragon deity, I stepped out from the shadows. Amand tried to stop me, hissing and grabbing at my winter coat, but it was too late - anger had already clouded my judgement.\n\n“Razrus!” I shouted at the top of my lungs. “Do you recognize this?” I was holding the chopped off head high in the air, for everyone to see.\n\nThe reactions of the crowd amused me greatly, as the villagers only slowly turned at first, and as I got closer, giving everyone a good display of their false god, they scattered in every panicked direction. But Razrus, caped in his long winter coat, remained calm and stoic. The large town square was falling into dimness, and if the clouds above, dark and thick, weren't enough, the menacing stares of his personal guard - the brave few who had remained - were quickly erasing my confidence.\n\nI recoiled once Amand tapped my shoulder, growling into my ear, “Got your back.” The small gesture was all I needed.\n\n“Thought we were easy picking?” I taunted the mayor, throwing Lynell's head across the square at him. It landed on the snowy tiles with a loud smack, coming to a stop few metres from the mayor's feet. “Not much of a god, if he can be killed.”\n\nThe old human smirked under his cape. He was holding a long staff in his hands, of strange, root like wood, and with a bulbous top end, resembling a shrivelled bee nest. The mayor only glanced at the dragon head before him, when he exclaimed in a dry, rasp voice, “I always saw through that 'god' thing. But it proved irreplaceable in maintaining peace...say, have you come for my head too, murderer?”\n\nHis men edged slowly toward us, clothed in sturdy leather tunics, their weapons ranging from simple short swords and wide broadswords to the most intricately decorated long bows. One of them, a towering mountain of flesh dragging his feet through the shallow snow, was wearing a full plated armour of foreboding shine. Contrasted with him I felt like a little, fragile vixen.\n\nI let myself be heard. “Whoever I've killed this last week, gave me no choice. But I want to know...did Matias come here of his own will? What was it that my father wanted here?”\n\n“And why should I tell you, miss Gale?” Razrus mocked me.\n\n“Only one of us is walking away from here alive.”\n\nAmand desperately whined next to me.\n\nThe old mayor raised his staff, saying, “Something we agree on, monster. Yes, he came of his own will.” The bulbous tip of his wizard staff started to pulse. “Rather, it turned out later on it was his choice...hmm...deceit seems to be the part of your family, animal.”\n\nMy fingertips itched with impatience. “Says the one who poisoned our food. Dirty old bastard.”\n\nBar us, the large town square was deserted, and the air, apprehensively tingling with high magic, was so cold it froze my lungs with every shallow breath.\n\nThe mayor exhaled through his mouth, his breath turning into white steam. “What is one fox compared to a whole village. And you did murder my people.”\n\nAll of my emotions were fast condensing into simple hate. “Yeah? You sent them after us. I've got enough of your shit, bald skin.”\n\n“And I've got nothing more to say to you either, monster.” He concluded our well mannered conversation.\n\nTwo against more than twelve. Those were our odds, steeply sloped in favour of the villagers and their manipulative mayor. I could see they were scared, I could smell their terror flowing through their pulsing veins, and before the mayor could get his first spell in, I lifted my bow and one arrow. I was guided by the memory of my old fox as I drew the string back, pulling back with such force my bones creaked. Upon release, the arrow whistled across the square, flying toward Razrus. Nothing stood in its way to stop it. I had such a battle high that I managed to nock the second one in before the first had even hit the wretched man, and once it did, he stumbled backwards, releasing a ball of bright fire our way.\n\nHis spell crackled incredibly loud, as if shattering the winds itself. I quickly used my battle spell to divert it, and the fire spewing ball exploded into a nearby house - crashing through its window. The stone structure immediately sparked ablaze. An arrow whizzed past my ear, and drawing my recurve bow once again, I quickly found the archers among the rest. They stood no chance. I refrained from killing them, and once my arrows nested into their thighs, they fell to the ground, grunting and cursing.\n\nAmand had his hands full as well, fencing off attackers with his spear. The wolf was fast and relentless in his strikes, sweeping the villagers legs from under them, or jabbing into their non-vital spots with the sharp end of his weapon. How handy he was with it, the spear proved to be incredibly brutal as it ruptured skin and tore flesh, the tip dripping with crimson red. I sent a few more arrows to knock out who I could out of the fight, cutting their numbers rapidly down, but the full metal plated knight proved to be a real threat, as my wide tipped arrows only snapped against his steel plates.\n\nI switched my bow for my father's sword, pressing ourselves back to back with Amand. We quickly finished off the last few villagers who tried to cut us down by attacking at once. Several thrusts of mine, several sweeps of Amand's javelin across the ground, and the villagers quickly joined the cacophony of pain squirming in the thin layer of snow.\n\nThe wolf huffed, “Now onto the big one.” I noticed his eyes were aglow with his feral self.\n\nHe charged at the fully armoured hunk of a man head on, possibly in an attempt to topple him over with his own bodyweight. But with a puppy like shriek, all he charged into was the man's fist draped in a protective layer of steel. My wolf crumbled to the ground. He turned completely silent, his tail fell motionless, and as the villager readied a swing with his two handed sword - to finish my lover off - I used the last remnants of my spell power to blast condensed air at him.\n\nDespite all of my fights were gambles with luck and death, then was the moment when my vixen heart beat the strongest. I held my sword by the blade, and using the hilt to pummel the armoured villager, I barraged him with a tide of insults and strikes. Amand managed to rise to his feet in the meantime. He howled as if it was full moon, and charging into the large human the second time, he toppled him over. Growling furious, he yanked the visor of the helmet open and punched the bearded villager with a closed fist, knocking the large man cold in one hit.\n\nI helped my tribal wolf to his feet, blood dripping from his nose. His hands trembled as I caressed him, trying to comfort him in words, “Holding together, Skimpy Tail?”\n\nHe sneezed, spraying me in blood. “Never better. So...what do you plan to do next? Climb the highest tower in Cyrila Capital?”\n\n“Don't be so dramatic…,” I chuckled.\n\nRazrus was heaving on the large tiles decorating the town square, his blood soaking into the stirred snow beneath him. With the night nearing, what the man's blood touched, turned almost fully black. I made my way towards him, the twisting flames of the burning house blinding me, and with the sun finding its home behind the far mountains, it was soon to be the only source of light around.\n\nThe old man whimpered at the sight of me, “...why do you keep tormenting me...haven't you abominations caused enough destruction already?”\n\nI drew my bow to shoot. For my father. For myself.\n\n“Marcella?” Amand approached me, his muzzle all worry and blood. “Is it going to change anything? Just...leave him be.”\n\n“...having to live with your kind, terrorized every day…,” Razrus howled in a mournful cry. “You only sodomize everything, everywhere you stick those ugly muzzles.”\n\nSuddenly, I felt nothing for the old human. No pity, no anger, and certainly no compassion. “You pride yourself better? You could have at least tried to see who we were...at least, given us a chance….” I sheathed my bow. I had no use for it any more - my enemies were slain, and so was my pain.\n\nThe old mayor and his words of poison were a distant memory. I let Amand heal the most wounded of the villagers, and once he rubbed his mixture of herbs into their mangled bodies, he tapped back next to me. All I felt was a concoction of sharp, wolfish smells as he pressed himself into me.\n\n“It suits you better like this...you're not a killer, love,” the wolf softly whined.\n\nI scratched Amand's chin to please him, and slapping him with my brush, I set out. “Let's go, lone wolf. We are finished here.”\n\nWe raided a nearby house for food, preparing for the long months of walking ahead of us. We laughed and teased each other, drunk on power like mad, but that had vanished once we crawled out of the valley, onto the cliff whence we came - the one which had led us into the cauldron of madness. I felt empty, melancholic, and longing for my father. For that damn fox that had loved me so dearly my whole life, for the fox that had put mine life before his. I looked down from the cliff, at the complete darkness stretching bellow, as if the whole valley ceased to exist once we left. Only the burning house in the village pulsed with yellow glare in the distance. And glancing above, the sky was no less empty, just a blanket of dark nothing and with no moon to show the path. I found myself doubting if any of it had even happened.\n\nI stood there motionless, Amand at my side, and as tears flowed down from my eyes, freezing on my cheeks, did the fire in the village slowly die out, only a pit of blackness in its wake.\n\nSunday, 11th July 830 / Broken Promises\n\nThis may be perhaps the last entry in my diary. What I used this leather journal for, I don't think I need any more. The wolf Amand Falmet, or Skimpy Tail - as I like to pester him with - deserves all of my attention onward, as not only I can without hesitation say I love him, he also gave me something that these pages, even with all the good they brought me, could not. Love and acceptance.\n\nOnly reading through the events of the last few days, I see how bizarre they are. We are all made, the morphs. The result of some twisted desires of a man way too powerful for this world, who played himself the god. If any of this got out, real hell would ensue. We hate each other with humans enough as is, and if the suspicions of our origin were swept away, replaced with this firm knowledge instead, even I, with my curious mind, am unable to imagine all the pain. But thinking about it, about those experiences locked away in this diary, I think we are safe. Who would, after all, believe a vixen whore that lifts her tail at wanton?\n\nAmand said it perhaps the best, “If someone wants to hate us, he will find a reason no matter what. So then, does it really matter we are simply humans under our fur? You can roll it in your head all you want...I enjoy being a wolf, and I would not want it being changed...and something tells me you feel the same.”\n\nI made an empty grave for my father, of all the icy sharp rocks we could find, and kneeling next to it, I stained it with my vixen tears, holding onto the magical ring. Every decision in his life was a mystery to me, both during the times when I lived with him as his daughter, and during the times when I picked up my own bow to trail after his footsteps. At that point, after all that I had gone through, it was time to let go. I laid his ornate short sword on the piled rocks, putting the bloodied weapon to rest with him. But no matter how much I tried, I could not force myself to part with the golden, magical ring he had given me so long ago. I removed it from my finger and hovered it before my eyes, my face reflecting in it, all ruffled and twisted.\n\nI was a slut - in body, in mind, and in choice too. Even if perhaps made that way, inheriting those traits from the first ever grey-fox Tanith, it was the way of life that fulfilled me. In all its carnal and non-carnal meanings. I placed the ring back where it belonged, on the ring finger of my right hand, and wiping my moist eyes dry, I stood up.\n\n“Where to?” I uttered in sadness, looking at my wolf in hope. I never felt so lost in the world.\n\nHe smiled and tapped his backpack, all the gold in it jingling. “You know what I'd want.”\n\nJust seeing him in a good mood lifted my spirit. “Okay then, wolf god Amand. I think I get the idea.”\n\n“I'm sure you do, goddess Tanith,” he said playfully, when his brow furrowed in sadness. “I'm sorry it ended up like this...I'd love to have met your old fox.”\n\nI wrapped my hands around the fluffy wolf, burrowing my muzzle under the collar of his shirt and into his richly smelling fur. “It matters not...I am at peace. It hurts like all hell...but I know that will pass. I have you.”\n\nHe pulled me closer against him. “I still can't believe I've met someone like you. You beautiful vixen.”\n\n“Trying to lure me onto your spear?” I chuckled, teasing his nose with mine. “I love you, you short tailed bastard.”\n\n“I love you, like I've never loved anyone before.”\n\nWe whimpered in joy, entwined together amidst dead wilderness and brushed over by rough winds. Feeling him against me was as if finding the only true direction I could take, and hearing his growly whines, rumbling through my chest, I could not stop my happy barks.\n\n“About that what you'd want...” I looked into his chocolate brown eyes. “Our own brothel, full of mischievous vixens...and one wolf to rule them?”\n\n“And one Marcella to set them free.”\n\n","writing_bbcode_parsed":"Writing down these events yields me the same feelings I felt back when I got this diary the first time. Just as unnaturally smooth the leather encasing felt back then, just how oddly soothing the smell of paper was, and just as crude I sharpened the graphite pencil with the edge of my blade, is just as I feel now. And perhaps, the anxiety and loneliness that were pushing me into reckless life are still present, I realize the change. It's a blunt, and at the same time subtle development of my life, that is best described as the pointy muzzled, short tailed hunk of a fluffy wolf who has withstood more by my side than anyone had ever should.
Even now I still feel sorry for that mangled ear of his….
Saturday, 10th July 830 / Mountain side stronghold, Village Silhania
The finding of my fathers gear had shaken me far stronger than I was willing to accept. I rushed along the stone steps and the barren, never ending hallways, my fingers clenched about the sturdy wood of my recurve bow. The green dragon, to whom I lifted my tail to mere hours before, was suddenly to witness my wrath and answer my questions. Another harsh roar came bouncing off the cold walls, rushing down from the direction of the throne room.
I turned to Amand, asking him in a slightly shaky voice, “I really think it's better I go there alone at first...Skimpy Tail, can you do something about that sorceress?”
The wolf cocked his eyebrow. “...uh...well, I don't want you going alone...but she might be a problem on her own.” He inhaled, scratched his nose, and exhaled before continuing. “No...I'm not risking anything. I'll lock them in their rooms, but I'm right back. He tries anything, he tastes my spear.”
“What can I do, you tribal savage. I'll need your help after all.” I tapped him on his nose lovingly. “Just don't spear her while you're at it, okay?”
He smirked through worry and darted in the direction of the dragon's harem chambers, running silently. I watched all the way before his short tailed bottom disappeared behind a far corner, and when he was gone, I mustered enough courage to make my way to the throne room. I knew how to approach, how to play the goddess Tanith so I could get under the dragon's skin and start grinding him with questions. But walking into the large chamber in my overt and sudden confidence, I came upon a real shock that I couldn't hope to foresee, and that froze me into a vixen statue just stupidly ogling at the sight before her.
Putrid smell of damp sulphur barraged down my nostrils, a foreshadowing to the massive, winged creature stomping impatiently about the torn up carpets and reflective tiles, with black scales coating its disproportioned body, its head long and pointy, several small, curved horns protruding along its length, and with a tail that was two times as long as its feral body. It roared and sneered in random directions, when the horse wagon sized monstrosity inevitably took a quick notice of me. Heart thumped in my chest as I tried to grasp myself, only for me to keep standing there motionless at the creature's mercy.
The large dragon, waddling next to me on all four in a clearly feral, yet as if completely mutilated form, bellowed in a booming male voice. “And who are you?” He was closing all distance fast, eyes locked with mine.
I tried to back away instinctively, hoping to distance myself, but I only ended up trapping myself between him and one of the chamber's white columns. The dragon nudged me with the tip of his bony muzzle, his head larger than my whole torso, and inhaling greedily, he spread his wings as if to stretch them.
“...could it be? You bear her blood!” he exclaimed, the pupils of his dark-grey eyes dilating. “Lynell! Get down here already!”
His voice was rough and powerful, causing me to shiver uncontrollably. The presence of something so large scared me above everything else, not to mention that the forceful blasts of his breaths rattled my equipment and dug into my fur. Mustering all of my courage I tried to wriggle away, but the black dragon only pressed me against the pillar tighter, placing his huge front paws on either side of my legs.
He hissed angrily, staining my thighs with droplets of unusually warm spit, “Stay right there….” The dragon then nudged himself lower, sniffing at my pubes through my blouse. “Oh absolutely...very little taint in your blood. You do descent from her...and you smell of at least two hundred different males too...counting in my brother.”
I tightened my grip about my bow, and as if the dragon sensing it, he grasped it with his maw, tore it from my hand, and threw it to the side.
The stare he then gave me was nothing short of horrific. “I doubt it you came here to offer yourself...do you have a name, pretty thing?”
I looked down on him, when he rose to level his muzzle with mine. I gasped sharply, his breath burning against my cheeks, his eyes hungrily darting about my face.
“We don't have to speak if you don't want to...it only suits me.” His mocking tone spurred me to react.
I hissed him my reply, “Warrior Vixen...is what they call me….” Then I sneaked my hand onto my belt and hovered it about the hilt of my sword, ready to unsheathe it. I knew I hardly stood any chance, but what the dragon's smell and actions told me of him, I was certain his intentions were far from noble.
He drew air, about to speak up, when I heard another set of large claws clacking against the chamber's tiles, belonging to the green-grey dragon. His smell was distinct enough to pierce even the tangent waft of sulphur hanging in the large room. To his butt was stuck his creamy white blanket, all spotted with copious amounts of ejaculate and my fur, and with the wonkiest of his expressions yet, he wobbled some distance next to us.
The tall dragon morph stuttered, “What...what are you...Tanith? Why...w-why are you clothed? You aren't leaving love, are you?” His confusion only added to the whole situation.
“Ah, took your sweet time, brother,” the dark scaled dragon remarked, even gleefully, when he eased the pressure and allowed me some breathing room. “My poor...this is not Tanith. You know, perhaps, because she's dead? Has that slipped your attention again?” His voice coloured into a darker tone as he walked about the large chamber, scraping his long, tapered tail along the floor.
Almost a whole minute passed before the green dragon reacted. “D-dead?! She is right here….”
The large feral dragon chuckled dryly, as if it was all a simple routine for him. “No, unless she dug herself out of whatever sticky grave she found herself in, rolled her bones in beef meat, skinned twenty foxes to make herself a new furcoat, and came crawling for you the first thing after she poured the brain of your regular rabbit into her skull. See, Lynell - I'm repeating your name in case you forgot it - this vixen hardly got here to procreate with you. Certainly not when she brought with herself a virile wolf...” He steamed the surrounding air, switching his playful sarcasm for a full blown anger. “…that is happily trampling about the castle, right behind your back, jeopardizing everything!”
I clutched the hilt of my father's sword painfully tight.
Lynell bulged his eyes out. Despite his outward appearance of firmly defined features and large, slightly curved horns, he seemed as if a young child being disciplined. “But...but...I...” He blurt out in a low voice. “I washed her. There are no more wolves here.”
“You dumb idiot…! Go! And bring him here...I could use them both.” The large dragon roared, furrowing his brow so deeply that his eyes almost disappeared.
His brother recoiled. He then lifted his muzzle and sniffed, turning for the hallway right away. “W-will do.” His blanket followed after him, still stuck to his firm behind and noisily sliding across the ground. If not for the dire nature of the situation, it would have been a comical display.
A sinking feeling twisted my insides; I feared for Amand's well being, as any risk that was coming his way, was caused by my actions and decisions. I had to do something. Anything.
Being left in the chamber with the dark, feral dragon alone, I shot him the first question that itched my tongue “What are you anyway?” Then, encircling the pillar slowly, the dragon following after my shambling footsteps, I tried to keep a healthy distance from him.
He grinned in an oddly friendly manner. “That's not something I'm about to share with you. Hmm…a better question would be, who are you?”
I mustered what little sarcasm I could, taunting him, “What...you don't need to know my name to bone me, do you?”
“Ah, snide just like her. Tell me...aren't you Gale's daughter?”
As soon as those words reached my ears, my heart stopped beating.
My distress was an easy picking for him, and since I froze in spot again, the dragon neared closer and closer. “Thought so...that sneaky fox. He swore his daughter died at the age of seventeen...now it's all starting to make sense.”
I don't know if it was rage, horror, or something else altogether, but my ribcage was as if to explode, my bones creaking and hurting so much, and in my freshly broken mind, I ceased to think.
“I cannot believe he tricked me,” the dragon said with an otherworldly dose of amusement. “Poor feller...and you crawl up here all on your own...what and oddity of extreme luck.”
I shook to the core, my feet trembling, my head reeling, and my tail only coiled about my thigh.
In his last few paces, he approached me in a predatory fashion, even licking his fangs with his obscenely long, dark fleshed tongue. “You're almost completely pure...maybe it will work.”
My vixenhood clamped fully shut. My skin burned and my fur stood up, and flicking my eyes across the chamber, I found my bow just lying there on the floor, beckoning to be used. Just looking at it, I knew I had it in me to fight back.
He bit his lower lip. “Lost your tongue again? A shame, really...Tanith was a good conversationalist. I could use some courting before I dive into you...” With his voice falling silent, I heard a soft, but at the same time clear, fleshy sound of something massive dropping out of a sheath. If the nauseating trickle of liquids accompanying it was not enough, the smell that had hit me in the nose, so heavy in sulphuric musk, was the breaking point for me.
The dragon, crouching low to the ground, readying to pounce me, made sure to voice his intentions as well, “I can smell those wards on you, miss Gale. Else my numbskull of a brother would have likely impregnated you already-”
I snapped, “What have you done to my father, you dirty bastard!?”
He only chuckled, soldering my rage further, “Nothing he hadn't done to himself on his own. Now, I believe that ward is coming from your ring...and I'd like it removed.”
The dragon was the closest yet, close enough for me to spy a deep scar marking his muzzle; a cavernous ridge running all the way from his eyelid down to his upper lip. I only suspected, and hoped as well, that it was the handiwork of my father Matias. The hope that my father had fought back, whatever it was he did and wanted in that place, filled me with strength.
But I couldn't help but be curious. “What's so important about me...can't you just knock up your harem girls?”
“For one, they are incredibly ugly….” The dragon laughed softly, but with his size, his voice thundered in the room. “They are not my harem. Lynell has some odd fetish for humans...still, that is not the problem. You see, our seed simply isn't seeping into fruitful soil, so to speak. Abretius had never really intended for us to spread, at least, those of us that weren't pure from the nature.”
“And you think that fucking me is somehow going to fix that?” However much I wanted to unsheathe my father's sword and start hacking away, the happy to share dragon captivated me.
Nudging at my thighs again, the big, winged monstrosity deeply inhaled my scent. “Perhaps? There is some kind of...how to put it really. Code in us, that is the best word. The master mage had simply realised that somehow, and he started experimenting with it, not caring for the consequences. Well, I think he traded length of our life for our ability to procreate. But there is a slight chance, that breeding one of his original creations might yield results.”
“...a single man really created all of us? Is that what you're telling me?” I continued, rasping, “And if you think I'm going to open my legs for you, you are deathly mistaken.”
The dragon chuckled. “I'm not asking you to open anything, my dear. To answer you: he wasn't alone in it...it was a whole guild. The guy would have created a lot more, but his personal fox goddess he had created for himself, Tanith, well, she killed him. It was a mess back then...the orcs - oh, those lovely abominations. What was the guy's name...” He turned his head to the side, as if completely forgetting about me. “...Franolo? Ah, matters not. He really botched it creating creatures from some fictional fairy tales. Those damn orcs levelled this place completely.”
My ears twitched hearing all that.
He paced left to right, giving me well measured gazes of his empty eyes. “Perhaps...you can have this place for yourself? And I'll let you keep your wolf too. Lynell is hardly able to fulfil his tasks, and you're a smart fox.”
“Are you mad?! Help you? After who knows what you did to my father?!”
In my momentary outburst of emotions, the dragon used the opening and pounced atop me, his twisted yet no less powerful body throwing me to the ground and holding me in place. At the sight of his large dragon penis, fleshy pink, bulbous, and oozing with mating fluids, I whimpered scared.
“Oh, you poor thing,” he taunted me, solidifying his dominance over me. “All the trouble he went through...to hide your presence...and you trample here yourself. I'm starting to question your intelligence.”
I had enough of him. And even if pinned down, with his disgusting organ hovering about the hem of my blouse, his large dragon paws restricting my movement, I was determined to fight back. His smile was nothing short of creepy as he freed my right hand and instructed me to remove my magical ring. But the only thing I removed was the malcontent look on his face, using my battle spell of condensed air against him. His jaw smacked loudly against his skull, and the dragon, bellowing in pain, tumbled several steps back.
I reached for my sword, but the dragon stomped frantically about, trying to restrict me once more. I cried in shock and I shone my magical light into his eyes, forcing him to howl in high pain, when he jumped aback with the aid of his wings. That was the opening I needed. I unsheathed my father's sword, and giving it my all, I slashed the dragon across his face. He recoiled as I frantically beat into his skull, chipping at his impenetrable scales. The feral beast groaned and writhed in pain, walking further back, and I, arching my back, jumped onto my feet. It was a fast dash for my bow after freeing myself. The short distance felt as if it was spanning across several kingdoms, and even having my precious recurve bow in my clutch again, picking it up had hardly saved me.
The black dragon, panting and roaring, came after me with overwhelming speed. His aggravated voice was the only warning I received. “I expected you to fight.”
Just as I lifted few arrows to start pelting him with, a warm tide of air took the legs from under me, crashing me into the floor and sliding me across a patch of rough carpet. The magical blast, much like my own spell, crackled loud and dazed me upon impact, and my splayed over form was assaulted by the feral dragon. I nocked an arrow quickly and fired it at him. With how anxiously he was closing the distance, the arrow lodged itself right into his nostril, causing him to cry out in high pitched agony. Kicking his jaw to push myself away from him, I shambled onto my legs, and before he could react, his red blood trickling onto the wooden shaft and his upper lip, I dashed for one of the white columns littering the throne room.
Then the actual fight started.
We pelted each other with barrage of projectiles, mine arrows doing hardly other than snapping in two against his rough scales, and his magical blasts and fireballs, resonating loudly across the chamber, kept me firmly at bay. My heart was beating all the way up my throat, knowing that what was at stake was not just my life, but also the well being of my lone-wolf extraordinary. Despite all the trouble I had just peeking around the columns to send my arrows at the dragon, it knew very well he was holding back. That had changed when I took special care to aim one of my shots. The arrow snapped from my bow, hit the angered dragon in his brow, and its metal tip breaking off, it cut into his eye.
He bellowed in hatred, “You vile slut! Come out!”
A sound of a deep inhale seeped throughout the chamber, causing the air about me to tingle. I gasped, knowing what was to come, and pressed myself against the white pillar. My tail coiled close to my leg just in time for the feral beast to breath fire at me. Shutting my eyes, I trembled, burning fur and intense heat scraping at my nose. If not for the column, I would have been burned to ash, and even so, the wall of blazing flames was so loud that my ears ringed, and so intense in heat that I had to scream to withstand the pain. And once it stopped, only deathly silence remained, invaded by the faint howling of the outside air, blowing past the crumbled wall of the throne chamber.
“Yield!” the dragon growled, his heavy footsteps approaching. “I can do far worse, miss Gale.”
His threats, while very real, were of no significance to me. I inhaled the smell of burned fur, and the stinging stench chafed my senses, spurring me to action. I walked from behind the charred column, sending arrow after whistling arrow at the monstrous black dragon. Most broke against his thick skin, but some pierced his wings and two lucky ones lodged themselves into his weakly scaled joints. In response, he sent his tail flicking at me, the sharp protrusions in the tip whipping with a loud crack mere whiskers away from my nose. It was clear he was no longer trying to gently restrict me.
Launching arrows still, the rush of the fight got the better of me and I taunted him, “You wished for the Warrior Vixen...now face her wrath!”
Having made my way next to the throne, I ducked behind it to avoid a fast fireball that had roared about my folded ear. It exploded on the stone wall and showered me in white sparks, spots of stinging pain on my muzzle and bare thighs agonizing me further. He lost all restraint. I caught my breath, reaching for my quiver. And cursing my luck, I only found the last of my arrows waiting for me there, for my trembling fingers. My spirit, along with my muzzle, had sunk completely.
The dragon was slowly approaching, his heavy stomps eating away at me, and his words, full of hatred, were just as horrific. “I haven't lived for three hundred years for some slut to top me. Last chance to spread 'em before I devour you in flames!”
It was everything or nothing, all of my fate staked upon one feathered arrow - a clear embodiment of my dreams and hopes. I stepped from behind the high throne, shaking in pain, fear and nausea, and with my bow drawn fully back, I've waited. He did not. The dragon inhaled through his flaring nostrils, his eyes deeply locked with mine, when, arching his back profoundly, he opened his maw to exhale flames at me.
That was my cue. My aim was right on the mark. My body was relaxed and firm. And my mind, always so loud and full of carnal desires, stepped aside to let me do my deed. The string of my recurve bow slipped my fingertips, and the arrow, carrying forth my hate and anger, lodged itself into his wide open mouth.
I could see the flames lighting up in his muzzle, when he gasped throatily, slapped his mouth shut, trapped his breath in his confines, and his maw sparked ablaze. What was meant to wipe me from existence exploded in his throat, and the white flames, shooting from his nostrils with distinct hissing, were my hopes coming true. The black dragon then stomped about the room, coughing up blood and smoke all over the floor. Once he managed to spew the arrow out and even greater amounts of putrid smelling blood with it, he lost all strength and slumped against one of the pillars, wheezing sharply. I stood next to the throne, just watching as his chest heaved up and down in his ragged breaths. The stinging guilt of killing was undeniable, but compared to the triumphant victory flowing through my exhausted body, it was of no notice. How powerful I felt is impossible to put into words, for I, the measly slut coming from the small fox village Fialnov, had slain a dragon. I cautiously approached the dying abomination, only then realising just how sickly he was, with writhing scales and bony joints, and at the sight of me, he weakly grunted in pain.
When, finally, the feelings for my wolf interrupted my little mental parade. I picked up my father's sword up from the ground, the edge giving a sharp shine, and turning for the arched entry door, I was met with Lynell's oddly focused stare.
Witnessing the massacre before him was too much for his already fragile mind. “Tanith? What did you do...how could you? W-why?” He then wobbled lifelessly in spot, his arms just hanging at his sides. “How could you...how. Why did you betray me, my only love! Why had you killed my only family?!”
The green-gray dragon furrowed his eyes into thin lines. I knew I was in trouble, as he opened his maw and puffed black smoke, roaring in deep anger. His bellows were just as loud as the black dragon's ones and I winced in shock, having the sinking feeling he was to attack me. I had no arrows to fire, no spells to use - with my spell power diminished - and even the pillars were too far to quickly duck behind. But before he could do anything at all, Amand rushed into the room. The wolf was, from the first glance, severely rugged and holding onto the short straight sword in his wolfish hand, his pointy muzzle slightly burned and void of expression.
He hadn't hesitated one bit when he drove the straight steel into the chest of the tall dragon, piercing him all the way to the hilt. Disjointed grunts emanated from both their muzzles, the two males locked together in fatal connection. I watched in disbelief as my wolf then tore the sword out of the dragon, and Lynell not only refusing to go down but also preparing to unleash his pillar of flames, my otherwise sensitive wolf side swept the short sword into the dragon's neck. One hit was enough to carve his large neck open, but the tribal wolf hadn't stopped there. No, he withdrew the sword, blood cascading from the morbidly open gash, and putting all of his body into his strike, he cut the dragon's head clean off.
The massive dragon head - tongue lolling out and facial muscles still twitching - slapped into the ground soundly, stopping its travel after two spins. Amand looked even more dead. He was sprayed with fresh blood, smoke rising from his tribal braids in wild curls, and he deeply wrinkled his pointy muzzle. When, throwing the sword to the ground, he waddled next to one of the pillars and seemed as if to hurl any coming second.
“...sometimes…,” the wolf rasped. “Sometimes I hate your guts, Marcella.”
He had all the right to do so. “I couldn't see this coming...I'm sorry…,” I uttered sincerely, making my way back to the throne. Even if I wanted to wrap myself around the wolf, glad he was safe, sound, and with all his wolfish bits intact, my head started to spin so fast I had to sit down.
Amand pointed at the heap of bloodied, bony scales lying dead against the white pillar. “What in the hell is that?”
“If I knew...I'm glad he's dead, though.” I laid back in the throne, its cushion digging into my fur and its seat still warm from all the fireballs it had absorbed. Closing my eyes, I tried to make sense of things. “He...he wanted to breed me. That I have Tanith's blood...stupid dragon...both of them.”
“Filthy bastard. And you killed him...on your own?” It sounded so strange coming from his trembling lips. “Are you sure you aren't a goddess after all?”
I laughed dryly, “Shut up, wolf-god Arazus.”
He absently looked over the corpses, first his own handiwork of a beheaded, two metre tall green dragon, lying in a drying pool of blood, and then he pointed his muzzle at the large pile of black scales, which appeared completely amorphous and reeked so badly as if it was already rotting. I heard Amand throw up in his mouth before he spat it all out into a pool of rusty red blood at his feet.
I could only do one thing. I fished this very diary from my side bag, sliding my finger pads across the smooth leather encompassing it, hoping to calm myself in its pages. I looked at Amand, a jolt of pleasure running through me as soon as our eyes met. “...you won't mind, right?”
He walked onto the steps upon which the throne was elevated. Then, giving me sharp yet passionate look, he groaned, “No. Go writing love...I need a serious rest myself….” Cushioning his behind on the stairs, I felt the wolf calming, even if his expression was nothing short of utter despair.
I spent long hours writing in the diary, all until the first rays of the morning sun lighted up the thick clouds. Even the events preceding the bloodbath felt surreal, and before I could finish fully, we got interrupted by the former dragon god's oldest harem member. She was standing in the entryway of the large chamber, her alabaster skin and long, nude legs covered only by a dark coloured silk coat, opened lewdly and revealing both her breasts and pubic mound. What of her slightly wrinkled yet oddly vital face I could see, hidden under a large cape, widened in shock as she barrelled inside. But in spite of her bright eyes bulging out, the two dragon corpses, twisted atop the floor as if grotesque puppets, hadn’t seemed to hinder her one bit as she made her way towards us.
She stopped in front of the steps, her long robe swaying back and forth before coming to a stop as well, and in a voice somewhere between amusement and lamenting, she said, “You killed them both? H-how...did you really kill my gods?”
The air about my nose tingled with high magic and Amand sprung to his feet, ready to interfere. I could see her gazing into the wolf's eyes, unblinking, some strange sort of obedience sparking in them. When, swiftly dropping to her knees, she bowed her head before my wolf, almost touching his feet with her forehead. She stayed like that for a short while, before the caped woman looked up obediently, rising to face Amand's midsection.
“That...that means…,” she stammered, calming only once she closed her eyes. “...only a god can slay a god. You must be...oh, my true god. A powerful wolf. W-what is your name?”
My lover shot me a glance, one eyebrow raised high in disbelief, and turning his muzzle back to face her, he responded, “Amand.”
She squeaked in a high pitch, “Yes. Yes! My lord Amand!”
Amand gasped. The enigmatic sorceress opened his trousers and gently worked her fingers into the lone wolf's sheath, stirring a pointy shaped reaction in almost no time at all.
Her breaths turned ragged as much as her cheeks turned red. “...you smell of power and rule, my god. My body is to be used as you please.”
“Are you out of your mind?!” Amand swatted her hands away. “Lay yourself off me!” It was not hard to understand him, sex was the last thing on both of our minds. But for her, having a knotty wolf before her - after the long nights she must have spent fantasizing about one - was too tempting not to act upon.
I chuckled dryly at the sight, but felt too empty to really enjoy pestering my wolf, “You're such a tease, Amand. You have to show your followers some appreciation too, not just order them around.”
He fumbled with his violet pants as he looked over his shoulder, such scorn playing in his eyes I laughed again, and the fair aged women, on her knees, looking pleadingly up, wrapped her arms about the wolf.
“Please.” She whispered in a clear voice. “Anything you wish of me? I knew you'd come...a wolf...a true wolf. I prayed for it every night...I w-will be a good servant.”
My lover looked at me again. What was in his richly brown eyes was pity, but not the scornful kind, which is almost as sad an emotion as the deepest hate, but the caring kind, as he flipped over the cape of the kneeling women, giving her curly locks of dirty blonde hair a gentle rub.
He made one of his distinctly adorable whines. “You poor girl….” That short tail of his fanned to and fro, the man clearly enjoying his status of a wolf god. “There is something I'd want of you. Can you remove these false gods we had slain? It's getting difficult breathing in here.”
She nodded, and raising to her feet, turning around with grace I've rarely seen even in the best of courtesans, the master wizard focused and swirled her arms in wide gestures, the air tingling with magic energy.
I interrupted her quickly, “Wait!” She recoiled, giving me an unsure glance, and I finished my request. “Leave the head of the green one, okay?”
Her eyes widened at first. The expression made her seem ten times younger, when she acknowledged my request and focused once more, her long black coat swirling about her curves. Soundless thunderbolts shot from her fingertips. They glowed in colourless yellow of such brightness that they burned into my vision, and as they hit the mutilated corpses, all wings, scales and ill smelling blood, they sparked ablaze. Their flesh was consumed right before my eyes, coiled in her magic. With no smoke and no smell, the only proofs of our actions vanished into bright sparks, the blood dried on the floor burning along as if lantern oil. Only the severed head remained.
We both, Amand and I, gasped at the sight. If anything, it proved to us just how powerful and skilled she was, yet, she only knelt before the wolf again, sinking her eyes to look at his feet.
Her voice purred with arousal. “I did as you instructed, Amand. My lord. My god.” What was in her seemed as if pure submission; a love for the toothy, braided soul mate of mine that had slain her god. She looked up hesitantly, her voice shaking, and she asked, “I shall repent for this...but, my god, I want to...I want to wash you off the blood. Please, let me clean your divine body.” Once done, she practically splayed her chest on the floor, resting her head on the wolf's foot.
He glanced at me again, his wordless question twisting his pointy muzzle. And relaxing myself on the throne further, I gave him my answer, “Mmmh...giving in to your divine duties, Skimpy Tail? I knew you had it in you!” I chuckled, drunk on power.
He shook his head, a large, nervous smile spreading all the way to his cheeks. “This is crazy...I'm no god. Nor are you, you damn fox.” His tone was light, even when he addressed his admirer again. “Stand up. On your feet, I said.” As she was hesitant to follow, he gave her his dark furred paw to lift her up. “...I don't know how that dragon treated you...but I want you to look me in the eyes when you speak with me, okay? And what is your name?”
“...Mila...why would you be interested in my name?” Her knees seemed to be ready to buckle up any coming second.
“Is that really so strange?” He caressed her cheek. “...but I already love another...just so you know that.”
My heart fluttered, even through all the dread and emptiness that was lingering in me.
Mila glanced at me, her forehead wrinkling, when she aimed her eyes back at the wolf. “Can...can I speak with your fox companion?”
And the wolf, making a profound, rumbling growl, shot me a deeply affectionate gaze. “She is not my companion...Marcella is my everything. Treat her like a goddess...okay?”
I felt my face widening into a smile. We were long past the point of accepting each other, of coming to terms with how different we were, yet, the feeling of our souls being as if one, came dazing me just like the first time when we met in the woods. Amand kissed me passionately before he tapped in the direction of the grand bath, and I stood up from the throne, being drawn to the large opening in the castle wall. Behind it the winds blew in sharp blasts, a torn rag of a flag dancing atop the wild gales, flapping against the rough wall. And bellow, hidden in icy mist, was the sole village Sillhania, of unfriendly rock and wrapped in green pines. A place forgotten in both time and place.
“M-Marcella?” The fair aged woman approached me. “I wouldn't hinder you if...if I didn't believe this was important.” She then fell onto her knees, acting just like with Amand.
“Stand up, sweetheart.” Her act of servility left a rotten taste in my mouth. It was something I never fancied out of play and fantasy. “We are all equals here. What did you want, Mila?” I suspected something foul of the master wizard for a second, but her scent was pure and void of taint, just as her actions.
She faced me hesitantly, hint of fear in her expression. “Your...your face. It looks like him. Six years back - by my lords, it feels like several decades - my dragon gods brought over a male fox...a warrior by the first glance-”
“Matias?!” I barked, my innards trembling. “You met him? What has happened to him?”
She continued, calmer. “I...please, my lady. Are you his daughter? You look just like him.” Her words, which were dry as sand before, picked up a light tone of passion.
Questions came pouring from me as if wild claws. “Yes! What became of him? What was that bastard doing here?!”
“He...well...I don't really know, but...” She grew distant. “Up to that point, I was helping my lords to find a suitable mate...they couldn't procreate with us, for whatever reason, and it was our duty to fulfil their wish. We looked for the descendants of Tanith, Alfonsa...anyone we could. Your father...you clearly...oh, forgive me, my goddess.”
“Go on...please.”
She hugged herself. “You...you have her blood. I can sense it. He had too, but...being a male, he was of no direct use. Your father almost killed our god that day, but he lost the fight. I was supposed to take care of him, and he was nothing but burned fur and broken bone. Oh...he talked a lot about you...he wouldn't stop for long hours...gosh, those blue eyes of his, always so bright, as he talked of his only daughter...old fool. I was ordered to pry your whereabouts from him, and he told me everything on his own.”
I shed a searing hot tear, hearing of my old fox after all the years I had spent looking for him. The hollowness within my chest pulsed with both agony and happiness.
Mila faced away from me, her legs quaking. “I...couldn't do what they asked me to, even if my gods. He...that fox...I couldn't understand it. I risked my life...keeping everything he told me a secret. Then, one day-” She started to wheeze. “-he wasn't in his bed. How stupid I was...he got better, and he, he...sneaked into the armoury, and attacked Lynell.” The master wizard broke into tearless sobs. “That...no. He...my god, tore him to shreds...I've never felt that awful.”
My mood sunk to the absolute bottom. Of all the pain I've felt in my life, what I heard the moment, was as if the sharpest of knives being forced into my vixen heart.
I whispered in a mixture of emotions I've felt plenty of, but never in such intensity. Of triumph meeting loss, love meddling with hatred, and hope shattered into pieces. “...so he...died….”
“I'm sorry, my goddess.”
The need to know more took over me. “Has he said anything else? Of why he came here...anything?” But I was so sapped of life I couldn't even care for an answer, only sinking my muzzle into my hands.
“I really don't know. I'm sorry….”
I cried my anger into the ceiling high above, my heart thumping, and my self-control slipping.
Mila raised her eyebrows and opened her eyes fully wide, taking several uneasy steps back. Even if she could kill me with a simple wave of her hand, spark me ablaze like a dry twig in a fireplace, she was scared of the vixen 'goddess' and her rage.
I needed to be alone. I sent her to go and pleasure Amand in the bath, and as I walked about the large chamber, the smell of death and decay having finally washed away, I stopped next to the cut off head, with its large eyes open and its dragon tongue almost fully grey, however pink it was before. Only then, holding the cold scales in my hands, had I realised what kind of feat had we managed - slaying the creatures which had witnessed the creation of our kind. But at the same time, it was such a meaningless act. Since after all had been stripped away, I only cared for him. The damned wolf.
I left the head at the throne and I traversed the castle, losing myself in my thoughts. Through the corridors echoed the moans of a sought after copulation, of my short tailed lover and the master wizard, her shrieks so loud I knew the wolf's knot had just got in. I chuckled for myself and smiled, and while the burden I felt within me was heavy, I knew I could finally find peace in my mind. To let go, and live my life. For some reason, knowing that my father had died in a fight, brought calm to the anxiety which had pursued me for almost ten years of my life. A fitting, if perhaps crude end for such a skilled fox warrior.
Later in the day, when my wolf Amand had marked every orifice of Mila's with his seed, we finally found the time just for ourselves. I looked at the happily snoring woman, bent over her bed, nude and sticky, and I felt dirty just watching the half transparent fluids flow about her curves.
“Gosh, the poor woman.” I teased Skimpy Tail's nose. “She won't be able to walk for a few days.”
He looked at me, as if a feral wolf about to pounce his prey. “Jealous?”
“Bastard. And I dunno...wasn't it you who killed my virile dragon?” I slapped him with my fox brush.
We laughed together, clung arm to arm as we left the room and walked toward the last stop of our stay in the old stronghold - the gold vault. I would have even forgotten about it if not for Amand, and as soon as he unlocked the massive wooden door, hidden behind a maze of cramped corridors, just the smell of all the gold coins rendered me breathless. I passed through the door, thicker than my hips, behind them a soft darkness hiding the treasures therein, and snapping my fingers, lighting up the one single candle that was present there, I washed the dim light away.
Off white stone columns and coins piled en mass reflected light of richly gold colour, submerging surrounding walls and aged furniture in flickering patterns; and me, mouth agape, strolled mindlessly forward. The room, about as big as a spacious bedroom chamber, was seemingly small hidden under all the waves of gold, with one of its corners fully submerged all the way to the ceiling. It lured me forth.
“A courtesan's wet dream…,” I heard myself mutter.
Amand snickered, “It's missing something...a bit of sauce perhaps, my love?”
“A sauce...” I chuckled, “Dear...more like ten buckets of freshly gathered wolf cum.”
His laugh resonated in the small room, “If I wasn't spent already, I would have provided.” Then, tapping atop the coins, he squatted down to gather gold into his leather backpack. “I'm...I'm really sorry to hear about your father. You all right? I want to...I'm here.”
I joined him at his side, fishing all of my gold pouches to start stuffing them with coin. “It's not easy...but...I'm glad I know now. I don't know what he wanted here, really...but I feel it was to protect me, somehow.” I pressed my nose into the soft fur sprouting from the wolves cheeks. “Or it's just...the illusion of him that I've had for so long in my mind...it kept me going.”
“...I understand. The only things that had ever kept me going were you and Marat.” He looked into my eyes, placing his wolfish hand on my cheek. “By the forest spirits...how much I love you.”
I lost myself in his soft, yet so well defined eyes, of dark brown colour and loving gaze, when I leaned closer to nibble at his thin lips. “You silly wolf...I love you too.”
He sparked my senses ablaze as he pressed his muzzle on mine, his thick scent washing over my nostrils, and sliding his warm tongue in, I welcomed it happily with my own. What little of his newest conquest, the sorceress Mila, I could taste on him, was strongly overshadowed by his potent musk that intoxicated me, sending me into a small heat. If not for that stinging pain inside me, I would have happily opened for him on the thick layer of glistening coins.
“You still taste of that dragon,” he exclaimed in a cheeky tone, licking my nose to mark the end of the kiss.
I slapped his behind for the remark, forcing him to yelp, and grinning at each other, we continued gathering the gold.
He was almost done pouring coins into the backpack, when he shared his thoughts, “Makes me wonder, what did they need all this gold for? It's not like they had to buy stuff.”
“Not from the village, certainly...I'd rather not think about it. I doubt knowing any of that would bring me any sort of happiness, wolf,” I sighed.
Pouches stuffed with gold and our hearts closer than ever before, we locked the vault behind us, ready to leave the castle. Amand only wanted to stop by Mila's bedroom. He said he'd feel guilty if he vanished without a proper goodbye. We found her cushioned on her bed and rubbing her belly, those lean fingers of her digging into her soft skin, travelling all the way to her still parting vaginal slit. Upon sighting Amand, she shuffled from the bed and onto her knees, wrapping herself about his pelvis.
He whined in a high tone, “I told you not to do that….” But despite his words, he caressed her hair, combing her curly strands with claws.
It was quite the sight seeing her plead for my wolf to stay, degrade herself on her own in front of him and kiss his body all over. Alas, for her, he was tied to me, and us both encouraging her to take over the castle, we were ready to leave. But before walking out of her well kept bedroom, all decorated with violet draperies and comfy looking seats, sharp white light barging in from one small window, she halted us. The sorceress lifted a long spear from behind a closet, and giving it a lengthy, oddly thorough brushing, I recognized it as Amand's.
She presented it to Skimpy Tail, smiling ear to ear. “I found your spear, my wolf lord. You seemed quite sad...talking about how you lost it.”
“I thought it was gone!” He exclaimed, swatting a chair over with his tail. “Thanks. It was a gift from Marcella...and don't mourn. I'll watch over you, okay?” He kissed her on the forehead, the fair aged woman shaking visibly, and before leaving, the wolf whispered in her ear, “Goodbye, Mila.”
I smiled, saying my own parting words, “Thanks for helping my father...I know he's gone...but I'm glad he met a friendly soul in his last days.”
She hesitantly reached for my hand, squeezing my furred paw in her sleek fingers. “It seemed like the wrong choice at the time...but now that I know you're my true gods...ohh, please, I beg your pardon, goddess Marcella, I should have done more to save him...can you ever forgive me?”
“It's all right.” I caressed her cheek. “Rule this place better than those bastards. And give it a bit of a fluff up, you hear? Bordeaux cloths can liven up any gloomy old castle right back up. The advice from the goddess of courtesans.”
Mila almost broke into tears when we walked away from her bedroom, the aged, enigmatic sorceress rubbing her belly the last thing before she closed the doors behind us. I left in good spirits, knowing she'd do fine on her own. We double checked our gear and I picked up the dragon's head, suspecting it would greatly help us in getting through the village. Well, and I really wanted to pay the mayor Razrus a parting visit as well, if only to see him squirm under the gaze of his beheaded deity. The stronghold, at the first glance a place of mystery, was really only a limestone held together tragedy. A tragedy of knowledge and possibility. One that I was anxious to leave, and forget ever visiting. I felt we had only scratched the surface of the past long gone, of the magical experiments, abhorrent winged dragons, and masters of magic so powerful that their work lived on centuries later, yet, I rather selfishly chose the small spark of a spell I had going with the beautiful lone-wolf Amand. It was to last for the rest of our lives at best, but it was more than I could ever ask for.
In terms of acceptance
By the time we had left the sturdy walls of the stronghold, the sun had travelled all the way to the far gone mountains, casting long shadows across the descending path. We remained silent for most of our way, either focused, or too tired to speak. It was too much of a haze for me to tell. And just as I expected, the twisting gravel road led right into the foot of the village, giving me the sought out opportunity of facing the mayor.
I checked up on Amand, who was already toting his spear and frowning deeply. Noticing my gaze, he pulled at his belts and clothes, making sure they held in place. “I still think that's incredibly crude.” He said, pointing at the severed dragon head.
I did the same with my left hand, tugging at my leather armour and weapons to see if they firmly fit in place, and with my right, I waived the head in front of the wolf's face. “You had your god time, oh so powerful and virile wolf lord. Can't I have my share too?”
“...you've already got called a goddess so many times my head spins,” he said through his teeth. “And expecting them to yield...I don't know. Don't get me wrong, I'm angry at that bastard. But this will end with bloodshed.”
Unlike the first time when we came upon the place, the streets of Silhania were bustling with humans. Most, given their lighted torches and weary expressions, were thoroughly searching for any clues of our presence, while the rest were gathered on the largest town square. Amand led us skilfully street to street, not a single eye catching a glimpse of us, when, right next to the crowd, I perked my ears to listen in.
I immediately made out Razrus' voice. It was such a scrape against my ears, I had to fight to keep them perked up. “...signalled the fires, but no response came. We have to find those demons...our god won't take kindly to this level of ineptitude.”
Since he mentioned his dragon deity, I stepped out from the shadows. Amand tried to stop me, hissing and grabbing at my winter coat, but it was too late - anger had already clouded my judgement.
“Razrus!” I shouted at the top of my lungs. “Do you recognize this?” I was holding the chopped off head high in the air, for everyone to see.
The reactions of the crowd amused me greatly, as the villagers only slowly turned at first, and as I got closer, giving everyone a good display of their false god, they scattered in every panicked direction. But Razrus, caped in his long winter coat, remained calm and stoic. The large town square was falling into dimness, and if the clouds above, dark and thick, weren't enough, the menacing stares of his personal guard - the brave few who had remained - were quickly erasing my confidence.
I recoiled once Amand tapped my shoulder, growling into my ear, “Got your back.” The small gesture was all I needed.
“Thought we were easy picking?” I taunted the mayor, throwing Lynell's head across the square at him. It landed on the snowy tiles with a loud smack, coming to a stop few metres from the mayor's feet. “Not much of a god, if he can be killed.”
The old human smirked under his cape. He was holding a long staff in his hands, of strange, root like wood, and with a bulbous top end, resembling a shrivelled bee nest. The mayor only glanced at the dragon head before him, when he exclaimed in a dry, rasp voice, “I always saw through that 'god' thing. But it proved irreplaceable in maintaining peace...say, have you come for my head too, murderer?”
His men edged slowly toward us, clothed in sturdy leather tunics, their weapons ranging from simple short swords and wide broadswords to the most intricately decorated long bows. One of them, a towering mountain of flesh dragging his feet through the shallow snow, was wearing a full plated armour of foreboding shine. Contrasted with him I felt like a little, fragile vixen.
I let myself be heard. “Whoever I've killed this last week, gave me no choice. But I want to know...did Matias come here of his own will? What was it that my father wanted here?”
“And why should I tell you, miss Gale?” Razrus mocked me.
“Only one of us is walking away from here alive.”
Amand desperately whined next to me.
The old mayor raised his staff, saying, “Something we agree on, monster. Yes, he came of his own will.” The bulbous tip of his wizard staff started to pulse. “Rather, it turned out later on it was his choice...hmm...deceit seems to be the part of your family, animal.”
My fingertips itched with impatience. “Says the one who poisoned our food. Dirty old bastard.”
Bar us, the large town square was deserted, and the air, apprehensively tingling with high magic, was so cold it froze my lungs with every shallow breath.
The mayor exhaled through his mouth, his breath turning into white steam. “What is one fox compared to a whole village. And you did murder my people.”
All of my emotions were fast condensing into simple hate. “Yeah? You sent them after us. I've got enough of your shit, bald skin.”
“And I've got nothing more to say to you either, monster.” He concluded our well mannered conversation.
Two against more than twelve. Those were our odds, steeply sloped in favour of the villagers and their manipulative mayor. I could see they were scared, I could smell their terror flowing through their pulsing veins, and before the mayor could get his first spell in, I lifted my bow and one arrow. I was guided by the memory of my old fox as I drew the string back, pulling back with such force my bones creaked. Upon release, the arrow whistled across the square, flying toward Razrus. Nothing stood in its way to stop it. I had such a battle high that I managed to nock the second one in before the first had even hit the wretched man, and once it did, he stumbled backwards, releasing a ball of bright fire our way.
His spell crackled incredibly loud, as if shattering the winds itself. I quickly used my battle spell to divert it, and the fire spewing ball exploded into a nearby house - crashing through its window. The stone structure immediately sparked ablaze. An arrow whizzed past my ear, and drawing my recurve bow once again, I quickly found the archers among the rest. They stood no chance. I refrained from killing them, and once my arrows nested into their thighs, they fell to the ground, grunting and cursing.
Amand had his hands full as well, fencing off attackers with his spear. The wolf was fast and relentless in his strikes, sweeping the villagers legs from under them, or jabbing into their non-vital spots with the sharp end of his weapon. How handy he was with it, the spear proved to be incredibly brutal as it ruptured skin and tore flesh, the tip dripping with crimson red. I sent a few more arrows to knock out who I could out of the fight, cutting their numbers rapidly down, but the full metal plated knight proved to be a real threat, as my wide tipped arrows only snapped against his steel plates.
I switched my bow for my father's sword, pressing ourselves back to back with Amand. We quickly finished off the last few villagers who tried to cut us down by attacking at once. Several thrusts of mine, several sweeps of Amand's javelin across the ground, and the villagers quickly joined the cacophony of pain squirming in the thin layer of snow.
The wolf huffed, “Now onto the big one.” I noticed his eyes were aglow with his feral self.
He charged at the fully armoured hunk of a man head on, possibly in an attempt to topple him over with his own bodyweight. But with a puppy like shriek, all he charged into was the man's fist draped in a protective layer of steel. My wolf crumbled to the ground. He turned completely silent, his tail fell motionless, and as the villager readied a swing with his two handed sword - to finish my lover off - I used the last remnants of my spell power to blast condensed air at him.
Despite all of my fights were gambles with luck and death, then was the moment when my vixen heart beat the strongest. I held my sword by the blade, and using the hilt to pummel the armoured villager, I barraged him with a tide of insults and strikes. Amand managed to rise to his feet in the meantime. He howled as if it was full moon, and charging into the large human the second time, he toppled him over. Growling furious, he yanked the visor of the helmet open and punched the bearded villager with a closed fist, knocking the large man cold in one hit.
I helped my tribal wolf to his feet, blood dripping from his nose. His hands trembled as I caressed him, trying to comfort him in words, “Holding together, Skimpy Tail?”
He sneezed, spraying me in blood. “Never better. So...what do you plan to do next? Climb the highest tower in Cyrila Capital?”
“Don't be so dramatic…,” I chuckled.
Razrus was heaving on the large tiles decorating the town square, his blood soaking into the stirred snow beneath him. With the night nearing, what the man's blood touched, turned almost fully black. I made my way towards him, the twisting flames of the burning house blinding me, and with the sun finding its home behind the far mountains, it was soon to be the only source of light around.
The old man whimpered at the sight of me, “...why do you keep tormenting me...haven't you abominations caused enough destruction already?”
I drew my bow to shoot. For my father. For myself.
“Marcella?” Amand approached me, his muzzle all worry and blood. “Is it going to change anything? Just...leave him be.”
“...having to live with your kind, terrorized every day…,” Razrus howled in a mournful cry. “You only sodomize everything, everywhere you stick those ugly muzzles.”
Suddenly, I felt nothing for the old human. No pity, no anger, and certainly no compassion. “You pride yourself better? You could have at least tried to see who we were...at least, given us a chance….” I sheathed my bow. I had no use for it any more - my enemies were slain, and so was my pain.
The old mayor and his words of poison were a distant memory. I let Amand heal the most wounded of the villagers, and once he rubbed his mixture of herbs into their mangled bodies, he tapped back next to me. All I felt was a concoction of sharp, wolfish smells as he pressed himself into me.
“It suits you better like this...you're not a killer, love,” the wolf softly whined.
I scratched Amand's chin to please him, and slapping him with my brush, I set out. “Let's go, lone wolf. We are finished here.”
We raided a nearby house for food, preparing for the long months of walking ahead of us. We laughed and teased each other, drunk on power like mad, but that had vanished once we crawled out of the valley, onto the cliff whence we came - the one which had led us into the cauldron of madness. I felt empty, melancholic, and longing for my father. For that damn fox that had loved me so dearly my whole life, for the fox that had put mine life before his. I looked down from the cliff, at the complete darkness stretching bellow, as if the whole valley ceased to exist once we left. Only the burning house in the village pulsed with yellow glare in the distance. And glancing above, the sky was no less empty, just a blanket of dark nothing and with no moon to show the path. I found myself doubting if any of it had even happened.
I stood there motionless, Amand at my side, and as tears flowed down from my eyes, freezing on my cheeks, did the fire in the village slowly die out, only a pit of blackness in its wake.
Sunday, 11th July 830 / Broken Promises
This may be perhaps the last entry in my diary. What I used this leather journal for, I don't think I need any more. The wolf Amand Falmet, or Skimpy Tail - as I like to pester him with - deserves all of my attention onward, as not only I can without hesitation say I love him, he also gave me something that these pages, even with all the good they brought me, could not. Love and acceptance.
Only reading through the events of the last few days, I see how bizarre they are. We are all made, the morphs. The result of some twisted desires of a man way too powerful for this world, who played himself the god. If any of this got out, real hell would ensue. We hate each other with humans enough as is, and if the suspicions of our origin were swept away, replaced with this firm knowledge instead, even I, with my curious mind, am unable to imagine all the pain. But thinking about it, about those experiences locked away in this diary, I think we are safe. Who would, after all, believe a vixen whore that lifts her tail at wanton?
Amand said it perhaps the best, “If someone wants to hate us, he will find a reason no matter what. So then, does it really matter we are simply humans under our fur? You can roll it in your head all you want...I enjoy being a wolf, and I would not want it being changed...and something tells me you feel the same.”
I made an empty grave for my father, of all the icy sharp rocks we could find, and kneeling next to it, I stained it with my vixen tears, holding onto the magical ring. Every decision in his life was a mystery to me, both during the times when I lived with him as his daughter, and during the times when I picked up my own bow to trail after his footsteps. At that point, after all that I had gone through, it was time to let go. I laid his ornate short sword on the piled rocks, putting the bloodied weapon to rest with him. But no matter how much I tried, I could not force myself to part with the golden, magical ring he had given me so long ago. I removed it from my finger and hovered it before my eyes, my face reflecting in it, all ruffled and twisted.
I was a slut - in body, in mind, and in choice too. Even if perhaps made that way, inheriting those traits from the first ever grey-fox Tanith, it was the way of life that fulfilled me. In all its carnal and non-carnal meanings. I placed the ring back where it belonged, on the ring finger of my right hand, and wiping my moist eyes dry, I stood up.
“Where to?” I uttered in sadness, looking at my wolf in hope. I never felt so lost in the world.
He smiled and tapped his backpack, all the gold in it jingling. “You know what I'd want.”
Just seeing him in a good mood lifted my spirit. “Okay then, wolf god Amand. I think I get the idea.”
“I'm sure you do, goddess Tanith,” he said playfully, when his brow furrowed in sadness. “I'm sorry it ended up like this...I'd love to have met your old fox.”
I wrapped my hands around the fluffy wolf, burrowing my muzzle under the collar of his shirt and into his richly smelling fur. “It matters not...I am at peace. It hurts like all hell...but I know that will pass. I have you.”
He pulled me closer against him. “I still can't believe I've met someone like you. You beautiful vixen.”
“Trying to lure me onto your spear?” I chuckled, teasing his nose with mine. “I love you, you short tailed bastard.”
“I love you, like I've never loved anyone before.”
We whimpered in joy, entwined together amidst dead wilderness and brushed over by rough winds. Feeling him against me was as if finding the only true direction I could take, and hearing his growly whines, rumbling through my chest, I could not stop my happy barks.
“About that what you'd want...” I looked into his chocolate brown eyes. “Our own brothel, full of mischievous vixens...and one wolf to rule them?”
“And one Marcella to set them free.”
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