0 comments/ 10067 views/ 0 favorites Snow Wolf By: ScottishChieftan You have been standing at the window for what must be hours. Your mind can't grasp exactly why, but something "out there" is calling to you. You stand silently watching, waiting, for what or whom, you have no idea. Mesmerized by the flurries of snow that float upon the cold evening breeze, you feel a slight shiver traverse up your spine and your curious mind wonders why, for it is warm and cozy in the cabin in which you stand. Built long ago, in the days when the wasichu were trying to wrest this land from your ancestors, the cabin is partially buried, deep within the mountain and faces a small and secluded lake. Solid and secure, the cabin sits there in the darkness and watches silently as time marches by. It lies shrouded in a veil of trees that obscures it from sight of the lake, yet here and there offers glimpses of water glimmering through the forest. The snow blankets the ground and covers the limbs of the silent trees. Tiny and nearly invisible trails left by rabbits and other small animals of the forest snake through the trees and lead off across the open spaces carpeted in snow. Red birds sing from the trees and fly to the ground to pick at tiny bits of seed that you scattered out for them earlier. Quail call out with their haunting cry and you smile inwardly, knowing they too, are making their way here to partake of the feast you provided. You are nearly hypnotized by the vast array of multi-colored birds that dot the pure white snow. You watch in awe, offering up silent thanks to the great spirit and feel blessed by the manitou. A raven alights on a tree limb to watch the activity and it casts sideways glances in your direction every few seconds. You can't help but wonder, just whom the silent raven watches, you or the birds feeding in a frenzy just below. Lost in time, you immerse yourself in the moment and become one with all around you. Out in the snow, every head lifts in unison. You can see the birds listening to something and feel their rapt attention as they seem to freeze into small statues in the snow. The raven, also turns its head to watch and listen. One by one, the birds resume their meal, but keep a wary eye attuned to the direction of whatever it was that startled them. You step to the door and slowly swing it open, hoping to hear what it is that captures the attention of the feeding birds. You step out onto the porch, but hear nothing and then from somewhere in the distance you hear it. The haunting howl of a lone wolf affects the mind in more ways than one can convey. It's cry floats upon the wind, held aloft by some magical tie to the earth mother. Far off through the trees, you see a buck deer lift it's head warily and sniff the air in the direction from which the howl echoed. The chill of the night air invades you and a shiver runs from your toes to the top of your head. Or was it from the chill at all? Moving down the steps, you walk silently towards the tree line, hearing nothing but the crunch of snow beneath your feet. Crunch, crunch, crunch and then you stop. He is standing right in front of you. Your feet are not the only thing that stops, as you see the huge wolf staring at you through eyes like burning embers, your heart stops, as well. His head tilts to the side, in the classical pose of an animal trying figure out something that confuses it. His nose flares as he sniffs the air and takes your scent deep within and processes the unfamiliar smell in his brain. His eyes bore into your very soul, they aren't at all what you expected to see on a wolf. Not the soft yellow orbs you thought to find, each eye smolders like coals from the pit of a fire. Dark black holes into it's soul, that is the first thing that comes to your mind. Odd, though. As startled as you are, as much as your heart, that at first skipped a few beats, is now racing. You feel completely safe and for some reason, trusting. Then, much to your dismay, he turns slowly and his paws pad away through the snow and through the trees. Right before he disappears into the forest, he turns to look at you, then turn to look into the trees and then back to you. You sense it, somehow you just know, he is asking you to follow him. He wants to show you something. "Ok, ok," you say in a quiet voice, not so much to him, as to yourself. Then your feet continue their musical crunching through the snow, following this beast as he guides you into the unknown. The tree limbs he glides silently under, slap at you and form a barrier that makes you practically claw your way through the foliage. You can't help but feel envy, as he slinks through the trees, completely at one with all that surrounds him. A faint glow through the trees ignites an interest in your mind and you curiously wonder, just where this strange fellow is leading you. He turns, now and then, to peer at you and make sure you are still following, then he continues on his way. As you get closer, you see the flickering shadows of a fire illuminating the night. A roaring fire welcomes you in from the cold night air, the wolf trots to the other side of the fire to allow you closer, in order to warm the chill from your bones. Standing by the fire, you warm your hands and watch the wolf with caution. He begins circling, you recoil with shock at first, thinking he is circling you, but realize he is making a ring around the fire. As he trots around the fire, you can't help but notice a rhythm to his movements, it is almost as if he is dancing. Then in total shock and confusion, you see him start to rise. He is leaping on his two hind legs, only occasionally returning to his front paws. Somehow, through some sort of magic or god KNOWS what, you feel the beat of a drum reverberating within you. You can hear the thump, thump, thump bouncing off of your body and you watch in amazement as the wolf sways to the beat. Totally on his hind legs now, he whirls in a dizzying fashion and a soft howl comes from his chest, then builds to a roar. His whirling continues and in the flurry of movement, you begin to think of him as a man. Then with total dismay, you realize that at time he looks human, in his unknown dance of the fire. Not knowing what the fates have in store for you, having no clue what perverse trick that nature is pulling on you, you can only stand in awe and become lost in the magic of the moment. Then with total clarity, your bewildered mind comes to a startling conclusion. The beast is turning into a man. Now you see him, dancing in his spiraling salute to the night. A young warrior, from what tribe you aren't sure. Clad in loincloth, and wrapped in a wolf's fur, he stops his dance to look at you. Time stands completely still. There is no sound, no smell, nothing. There is only him. War paint decorates his face, he has an eagle feather intertwined into his hair. The wolf fur is thrown over his shoulders like a cape, the face resting upon the top of his head like a hat. The eagle feather dangles from the right side of his face, along with the long strands of his raven black hair. His chest heaving, he walks closer to you and you notice that the eyes haven't changed at all, they still smolder with the same intense clarity as before. There is no sound, no movement, all around you seems to have come to an abrupt halt. He doesn't speak, he makes not a single move, he just stands with his eyes boring into the deepest recesses of your soul. Then with a movement so subtle it could be thought of as a twitch, his left foot lifts and slowly falls back to the ground. As his foot comes back to the ground, it makes a faint thud. Again his foot rises and falls, this time a bit firmer, then with a building tempo, his foot thuds to the ground. The earth and his foot become drum and drummer. Thump, thump, thump, his foot makes a beat that resounds in your chest. Then with the rhythm established by his foot, his body begins to sway to and fro, still keeping with the phantom drum. The beat of the drum now comes from within you and you know it is reverberating in his body, too. A slow smile spreads over his face, almost dreamlike, and he spirals away from you to once again circle the fire. His feet stamping the earth, the glow of the fire shimmering and reflecting on his sweat covered skin. Watching him, you have to force yourself time and again to stop your own feet from moving. It is as if you are being pulled by some unseen force, into the dance. His movements are so enchanting, you feel at times as if you yourself, are dancing around the flickering flames. Then, as he is dancing near you, he turns and leaps to land right in front of you. His eyes command you to dance with him and you know there is nothing short of a miracle that could possibly keep you from it. His hands grasp your shoulders and when he touches you, the heat of the flames seems to burn its way into your body. It must be the flames, you feel something ignite in your tummy and a slow burn spread throughout you. His body begins to sway and his eyes tell you to follow. Your body mimics his and soon the two of you are lost in a flurry of movement, circling and prancing around the fire. You feel as if you aren't even touching the ground. This dance, this night, is a union of souls and the birthing of something beyond description. A euphoria spreads through your body, mind and soul. A calm overcomes you and all in the world seems right and good. Everything that has for so long tormented you and wracked your mind in anguish, slips away from you like a mantle being shed and you feel a peculiar lightness come over you. A sigh of contentment traverses your inner core. Then you hear it. It creeps into your mind, not so much into your ears. It is a voice, of sorts. So soft and subtle it seems musical to you. "I do not speak your language, little one, so I speak to your soul through my own." Now you find your mind racing, grasping for an explanation and again he speaks. "Fear not, little dove. The mind knows to listen not only to the voice, but also to the soul. There is no language for the soul, we all speak the same, hear the same and feel the same, if we open ourselves to it." Standing still, looking into his eyes in amazement, you realize you knew all along that souls could communicate, but that your educated mind had simply refused to listen. Now you eagerly let down the barrier between you and open your mind and soul to him. He twirls the feather in his hair and reaches to tie one into yours. As he does, his fingers caress your face and it feels as if your were struck by lightening. Electricity shoots through you and for a moment all is lost in time. When your senses come to you, he is no longer in front of you. There is nothing there except a large hawk sitting on the ground looking at you. "Do not fear, only accept" his voice echoes within you. You look across at the hawk and see every detail, feathers and details of the hawk stand out so clearly it startles you. The oddity of the moment is profound and shocks you into numbness. Then you look down and see the ground is very close to you and an uneasy feeling settles into your mind. "No fear, my friend. Accept the gift I offer and trust the voice within your soul." Then in total amazement, the idea comes to you and you look down at yourself. Talons have replaced feet and feathers cover you. "Allow yourself to be seen through my eyes, little one, open your mind to me," his soft voice rumbles in your mind. Now you see yourself, a beautiful red tailed hawk, sitting gracefully on the ground and you know that you are indeed, seeing what he sees through his own eyes. "Come," he says and spreads his wings, thrusting them downward and lifting himself in flight. He flaps his way higher and higher and then you follow. Having no idea how you KNEW exactly how to fly, for some reason it seems second nature to you. Higher and higher, the two of you climb high above the trees and soar on winds that carry you higher. Far below, the sounds, stresses and familiarity of earth slips away and you feel reborn and anew. As the world so far below you, slowly slips away, you feel a euphoria beyond anything you ever imagined. Catching the wind currents, you no longer even flap your wings. You watch your new found friend and follow his lead, riding upon unseen wind currents that carry you along. Soaring with ease, you feel the carefree sensation of the breeze as it caresses your face. You slip into some sort of trance and forget time and reality, allowing yourself to become absorbed in the moment. There is nothing, other than this moment. Life has come to a standstill and time has stopped. You hear your friend's cry floating upon the wind and an answer emits from your soul. He changes his course, this new found friend of yours and begins a dizzying dive toward the earth. You follow, feeling an exhilaration that overwhelms any conscience thought. Wings swept back, you plummet towards mother earth. Wind roars through your ears. The speed with which you are rocketing towards the ground takes your breath away. Trees blur by in your peripheral vision, but the hawk in front of you continues his graceful dive and you follow. When he is mere feet from the ground, he spreads his wings and with a mighty thrust of his wings catches a current of wind that once again carries you both aloft as you follow suit. Climbing to heights where the air is thin and screeching towards the earth, you play and frolic with delight, feeling the weight of the world slip away. A strong urge to flee from reality forever overcomes you. You can imagine living this life forever, no pressures or worries, only freedom and flight. His voice one again invades your thoughts, "come with me little one, our dance on the wind is over" and he slowly spirals down to the earth and alight beside the still roaring fire. Instantly, he is again a man. He walks to you and speaks in an unknown tongue and miraculously you are once again standing on two feet as a woman. The whole experience makes you reel. Unsure of reality, of when and where you are, your mind feels feeble and unable to cope with the gifts it has been given. He extends his hand to you and takes you by the arm. He gently leads you to a pile of furs beside the fire and bids you to lie down. As you feel the soft and comforting fur enshroud you, you calm and feel a sense of peace overtake you. Your new friend resumes his dance, a soft chant comes from his throat and he sways to the music of the unseen drum. After a few minutes, he collapses beside you. His dark eyes burn into you and he lies beside you, not speaking, but somehow you feel he is looking onto your soul. A slow smile spreads across his face and he gingerly places his hand on your chest. Not in a groping manner, he simply lays his hand, palm down, between your breasts. You can feel the throb of your heart as it quickens. There is an odd feeling in your chest, it is as if you feel an echo from his hand. He seems to be absorbing your heartbeat, taking it into his own body and soul. Your heartbeat, like some sort of electrical charge, arcs from your chest and leaps into his hand. Lying still, you start to feel a different beat and realize he is sending you the beating of his own heart, using his hand like some magical transmitter and receiver. The throb of uniting hearts is in its own way, some magical dance. A union of souls and kindred spirits. Mesmerized by the moment, you smile a sleepy smile that gives away how the experiences of the day have drained you and he nods in a knowing way. He slides his arm under your head and cradles you in his powerful embrace. His breathing slows and total silence overtakes the night. Sleep comes to you in a welcome wave and you slip into a land of dreams that can't possibly be matched by the journey you have taken this day. Snow Wolves Marike looked up to the peak again as the swirling snow parted just enough to reveal the ice covered point jutting into the leaden gray sky. Her breath came in needle agony gasps as the cold thin air seemed to resist being drawn into her shivering body. She turned and looked behind her. Surely Artuck and his ruffians would have given up by now. She would not be taken by such as them, and would rather freeze than submit to their crude touch. Their superstitious ways would probably send them fleeing back down the trail once they realized she had chosen to climb Wolf Crest. The stories of ravaging beasts out of children's nightmares taking unwary travelers was obviously foolish prattle, nothing more than old wives' tales, though the sound of the wind moaning and howling through the stones could certainly strike fear into the heart of those who believed. Surely she could rest a moment now. She sat on a stone and felt a rush of warmth flood through her. Just a few minutes of sleep and she could continue, just a short nap and no more....... * The male wolf snapped his head alert. His sudden movement awakened his consort who shook herself and yawned beside him. He sniffed the air at the mouth of the cave and picked up a scent that sent a roiling sensation through his belly. He looked at his mate his piercing blue eyes making contact with her mismatched gray green and blue ones. He let out a low growl punctuated with a short yip. She stood and sniffed the air and caught the enticing musk as well. Prey had entered their domain. The male leapt forward out of the cave mouth into the swirling snow, his powerful haunches sending him bounding down the boulder-strewn ledges. His mate, smaller but no less powerful for her size, followed him closely. As the snow swallowed their shapes, an eerie howl echoed from the rocks of the mountainside. He followed the scent until he saw the shape sprawled on the stone. A thin coating of snow clung to her hide parka. His lips curled back as he recognized the wolf fur lining the hood and cuffs. He approached cautiously. It would not be the first time one of their kind had tried to trick him. He barked a few feet from her face and elicited not the slightest response. She was already too deeply unconscious to hear. There was not much time. His powerful jaws closed on the shoulder of her parka and lifted her and began to drag her upslope. His mate bounced beside him, lending her strength to lift the human when larger rocks obstructed their passing. A particularly heavy jolt caused Marike to open her eyes, and through the fog of her nearly frozen brain she saw the one green-gray and one blue eye of the female staring at her. In that moment fear seized her heart and she knew that either she had begun to hallucinate in the last stages of freezing to death, or that the old tales were true. As fear sent a shiver more intense than any caused by the cold, she passed out once more. She did not know how much time had passed before she awoke. It was very dark where ever she was. Marike was lying beneath a pile of skins. Her nose wrinkled at the smell of them, for they had not been properly tanned. On either side of her she could feel warm fur, then her heart skipped a beat as she realized that those furs were slowly expanding and contracting with breath. She moved her hands and realized she was naked. Her wet, ice encrusted clothing had been removed from her. She breathed in slowly and could smell the feral scent of the predators who now flanked her. "Why had she not been eaten?" she wondered. If the stories were true, these creatures, the dreaded Snow Wolves should have devoured her whole and played games with her still bloody bones. Perhaps they were sleeping too deeply to notice if she slowly crept away. She began to inch her way upwards, stopping and counting to ten between each movement. She had barely freed her breasts from the skins when the creature on her left suddenly moved rolling away from her. Marike could not help but whimper in fear as she froze, half exposed. She could hear the padding of feet across stone, the click of the long nails with each step. Then there was a sound, like leather being stretched, and crackling such as one hears when they butcher a hog and pull the joints asunder. A smell filled the air, acrid followed by a rush of musky odor. Then all was still. She felt the beast next to her tense and then stand, pulling the skins from her the rest of the way. It shook and Marike began to tremble realizing how close it's fang filled muzzle was to her unprotected neck. She heard the sharp clicks of stones being knocked together. Marike rotated her head to the sound and she could see sparks flying with each clack. Someone was knocking flint together. Several more attempts and the spark finally caught in the tinder. A gentle breath encouraged the tiny flame. Then light flared as the tinder was touched to the wick of a clay oil lamp. The yellow glow showed Marike the face and upper torso of a beautiful woman. Her long brown hair cascaded to the middle of her back. Her face was lean but not so sharp as to be unattractive. Her skin was pale and unblemished. Her breasts were good sized and round, tipped with light brown nipples that stood out from them, crinkled and hard in the cool air of the cave. The most striking feature was her eyes. They were mismatched, one bright blue, the other a hazel green. She stood unclothed and unashamed as she set the lamp onto a ledge a few feet above the caves floor. Marike was drawn from the sight of this strangely beautiful woman by the slow deep sounds of breath behind her. Part of her wanted to turn, the other more prudent part was terrified to even think what she would see. She felt gooseflesh rise all over her body, and it had nothing to do with the sleight chill in the air. As fear filled her, she heard the beast behind her make a curious growling moan. She could feel it edging closer. The hot breath steamed onto her shoulder. She heard it sniffing her hair, felt its exhalations moving strands. She sat stiff and motionless. Then Marike felt its tongue on the middle of her back licking upwards. The light went out. When Marike awoke from her swoon the woman was sitting next to her. Marike sat up, clutching a skin to her breast and frantically looked around for the wolf. They were in a small chamber with only one visible exit. All manner of things lay scattered about. She saw discarded clothing, tools and several weapons; swords, axes, a spear, and two bows and their quivers of arrows. The woman was kneeling on the pile of furs. Marike realized there was a huge mat beneath them made up of furs, skins, and on top several wool blankets that looked as if they could have been woven in her village. The woman, still nude, was offering her a wooden cup. Marike realized she was very thirsty and took the cup in her trembling hands and drank. The water inside had obviously been snow only a few moments before and the frigid fluid made her teeth ache and gave her a shiver as it flowed into her near empty belly. The woman cocked her head as she looked at Marike, then she smiled, and her teeth were white and somewhat unsettling though Marike could not discern why she felt so. The woman spoke in a soft voice, tinted with an accent Marike could not place. "Please, not to being afraid. I know this place must seem strange to you, but if you were not here, you would be frozen, out there." she indicated the opening in the cave. "You must be running from something very bad to have risked these paths at this time of the year, or perhaps you hoped you would vanish, fall into a crevasse and never be seen again?" Marike's cheeks reddened at that and she looked down at the cup held between her still trembling hands. "What is your name?" the naked woman asked gliding closer. The village girl could think of no good reason not to respond so she whispered, "Marike". "Ma-REE-keh" the other woman said slowly as if hearing the syllables for the first time ever. "It is a nice name, I am thinking." "Where I come from, one exchanges names." Marike prompted The naked woman plopped onto the furs next to the still shivering woman. She reached over and gently took a strand of her hair and sniffed it. Not a quick sniff, but a long, drawn out breath through the nose, with her eyes closed, as if she were savoring every iota of the scent. Marike shivered in fear of the peculiar woman who could sit naked in a near freezing cave. Without thinking she hefted the clay cup and swung it at the woman's head. Without opening her eyes, the other woman flung her left hand up and caught Marike's wrist in a stone sure grip, the cup stopping inches from her own temple. The woman's eyes snapped open, inches from Marike's own. There was fire dancing in both of them and the pupils were so wide that only rims of color showed around them like blue and green coronas on an eclipse. The woman hissed, "Where I come from, guests do not try to brain their hosts, especially after being saved from a frozen death!" and with that she dropped the strand of hair and pried the cup from Marike's weakening grip. She did not release the village girl's wrist after she had disarmed her. Marike filled with fear again and cast a desperate glance at the stack of weapons. "Do not even entertain such thoughts." The woman spoke in a low, even tone that seemed more threatening to Marike than if she had been screaming the words. "I would easily pry such toys from you ere you had a chance to use them on me. We took those away from their former owners in such a fashion. We keep them as, what is the word? Momentos? No... Trophies I think. Such as your type might keep the tooth of a predator for a good luck charm, or perhaps wear the skin of a wolf, or mount its head on the wall with staring glass eyes." Marike collapsed onto the furs. The strange woman's way of referring to Marike as if she were not of a kindred species only made the fears and old fireside stories more real to her. She stared at the weapons with tear filled eyes and saw flecks of rust, and perhaps some darker matter on the steel. These were indeed not weapons that saw care and use, but the equivalent of the antlers on the wall of the meetinghouse back in her village. She broke into tears and the strange woman released her wrist so she could cover her streaming eyes with both hands. Her body shook with the sobs and her lungs seemed to strain for air in this high place. As she lay there crying without any way to stop, she felt the gentle caress of the woman's hands. It started atop her head, stroking down her hair to her shoulder, and then flitting across her ribs, down her hip and flank, to her thigh, stopping at her knee. Then the hand would start again at the top and retrace its path, with slight variations, moving forward or back as the mood seemed to suit her. Sometimes fingers trailing down her back and across her buttocks, the next time stroking her front, barely catching the slope of her breast, across the left side of her belly, barely missing the curly thatch of hair that grew between her strong thin legs, moving across the front of her thigh. Without realizing it, Marike had stopped crying, instead focusing herself on the path the woman's hand took, feeling an unnatural heat bloom under her touch, and a tingling left in it's wake. As the hand went to her head again, Marike rolled more onto her back, without realizing what she was doing. She was entranced. She opened her red-rimmed eyes and blinked away the residual tears. She looked at the face of the woman touching her. The eyes were almost liquid, her cheeks a bit flushed, and her breathing was quickened. A red flush spread across the top of her breasts as well, and her nipples, formerly stiff, were now engorged, almost twice the size they had been when Marike had first seen them. This time the hand stroked her hair, and then went to her face. Marike inhaled as the fingers went down her nose, breathing in the strange musky scent they carried. The fingers went to her mouth next and lingered there. The woman's nails were long and strong, and she felt them tracing the outline of her lips and the lips parted without conscious thought as if inviting entrance. Now they continued their journey to her chin, then just the nails barely touching her neck to the collar bone. . A shiver convulsed her body, but she no longer felt cold. The fingers were now agonizingly slow and they moved down the upper part of her chest, and then began to ascend the white slope of the girl's breasts. Marike was no child, she heard the other girls talk about the tings that men and women do. Some had giggled as they told how pleasurable it was to have their nipples fondled or touched. Once a boy named Sittan had tried to grope into her blouse, grasping in a clumsy fashion at her new grown mounds. It had made her nipples stiffen, but she had still pulled his hand out and pushed him away. Sometimes as she bathed or dressed, she would brush over them and they would respond by engorging, and she would even sometimes purposefully pinch them to feel the delightful surge of tingles in her woman place. Only two days ago Artuck had grabbed her from behind and mauled her breasts through her coat. That touch had made her feel dirty, ashamed, but now she seemed focused on the building heat in her left breast as the woman's nails came closer and closer to the patch of crinkled skin that surrounded the base of her now swollen nipple. The fingers circled the nipple, once, twice thrice, never actually touching it, but sending jolts of pleasure through Marike anyhow. Now the fingers began to descend the lower slope. Part of Marike wanted to reach up and grab the woman's hand, pull it back to touch, squeeze and pull the now throbbing, fire filled nub of flesh, but she was paralyzed. The nails went over her rib cage, making note of each rise and depression, and then proceeded to trace down the center of the girls belly, stopping to encircle her navel Just as she had the nipple. The fingers continued after their ring a rosy dance, and soon were finding the edge of the curled mass of copper and brown hair. As they ploughed through the dense brush, Marike became aware of a tantalizing new feeling. The index and middle finger parted, one moving to either side of the slit buried deep within that pubic thatch. The fingers slowly went down either side and Marike felt something swell between them. The fingers paused, then moved together and Marike gasped as the place she sometime felt pulse as she touched her nipple throbbed at the pressure, The fingers flexed a few more times, gently squeezing together then spreading apart, pulling the pink folds asunder. Without warning the hand moved and two of the fingers were in the center of that slit, lower, below where Marike made water, She felt them, hot press against the second opening, the one the midwives said made babies. The two fingers probed in, spreading the pink petals of flesh and finding what they sought, slick, wet moisture. They moved in a firm pressure against that nether hole, and Marike pushed her pelvis towards them, somehow wanting the fingers to explore, having a feeling of distinct and almost painful EMPTINESS. They did not enter, instead now coated with the slippery fluid that had been slowly dripping from Marike, the moved up a few inches. The thumb expertly pulled the lips aside as the third finger did the same on the other side. Then the two fingers, covered in slippery fluid touched the button of flesh directly. Marike's back arched and she sucked breath in between her clenched teeth. She had never felt anything like that in her waking hours. Sometimes in dreams such feelings would come, but they faded as she woke and pulled her clothing on. Now the thumb moved up atop that hot place, and pulled back a small hood of flesh, exposing a pink, swollen nub. The wet fingers touched this ever so gently moving in a slow rhythm that made Marike squirm. She found her hips thrusting upwards wanting the pressure to be firmer. Sometimes the other woman would comply, other times she seemed to tease, moving back, keeping the touch maddeningly light. A pressure was building within Marike, heat, clenching, wet, pulsing, then it burst. She thrust her hips upwards suddenly mashing the other woman's fingers into her wet slit. Her body convulsed and shook, she wanted to be touched more, and yet wanted to lay still and couldn't. As the waves of pleasure subsided her hips dropped back to the furs. She was breathing rapidly through parted lips. Her hands, still wet with her own tears had of their own volition dropped to her breasts and she now held both nipples pinched tight between fingers and thumb. The woman with the strange eyes moved suddenly, springing up until her face hovered only inches above the panting girl. She brought the fingers of her hand up between their faces, and Marike could smell her own wet musk, pungent yet sweet. Then slowly she placed her index finger into her own mouth and licked the slippery sheen or Marike's wetness from it. Not understanding why, this made Marike shiver and her still shaking womanhood clenched once more in an aftershock. Then the woman slowly brought her middle finger to Marike's lips. Without even thinking, the girl opened her mouth and closed her eyes, allowing the slippery finger to enter, and press her tongue. She tasted the fluid that had come from her own quivering nether lips and it was heavenly. As the finger pulled out she opened her eyes and looked up at the woman. She had sat upright, her hips touching Marike's, and was smiling slightly down at the girl. Then she took her other hand and reached between her own legs. Marike watched as her long slim fingers parted the straight brown hair of her pubic mound. There she saw coral pink lips, ruffled and ridged running the length of the woman's slit. The woman's middle finger stroked up and down and for an instant she closed her eyes and threw back her head, whimpering slightly. Her long middle finger eased into the wet, tight hole there, until it was buried to the first knuckle. The woman smiled at Marike, as her hips began to gyrate and move almost of their own accord. She pulled her finger out swiftly, shuddering as it evacuated her wetness. She offered it to Marike. Marike could smell her, different than her own scent, yet similar in ways too. Smelling this made her even wetter below, if that was possible. She saw the oil lamp light dancing off the wet sheen on the woman's recently buried finger. "You never told me your name," Marike whispered. "I cannot remember my name most days," the woman said. "Our kind have other ways of identifying on another. My master sometimes calls me Swiftmoon. Will that suffice?" "Swiftmoon..." Marike said, then opened her mouth and engulfed the proffered digit. She closed her eyes and lights flashed in her vision. Fire seemed to be radiating from the finger, filling her mouth with heat, washing down her throat as she swallowed, causing her heart to pound and her lungs to fill to bursting as she drew a shuddering breath in through her nose. The scent of Swiftmoon blotted out everything else, and then the colors became the sun and she saw no more. A few moments or hours later, she knew not which she blinked her eyes open. Her body felt flushed, more alive than she could imagine. The smell of Swiftmoon's cunt,(for that is what the girls whispered to one another as they shared what boys had done to them) was still pervasive. As she became aware of herself, she closed her eyes again. Her own cunt was filled with warm sensations, a soft movement there she could not identify. That nub felt wet and alive as something hot moved against it, Then something hard, scraping, delightful almost pain causing her to swell even more. It felt like... teeth, as if someone with sharp teeth were nibbling on her there, but that was impossible, so she opened her eyes and looked down. Snow Wolves There between her legs was a thatch of long brown hair, spread out over both her thighs. A slim body stretched out beyond, lying between her splayed wide legs. The hair moved and she saw Swiftmoon's face briefly, her tongue long and sinuous darting out her mouth onto Marike's swollen button. She had never heard of such a thing, but right now, her ignorance was secondary to experiencing the best thing she had ever felt in her short life. She had heard that the snow wolves would eat humans, if that were so, let her start right where she was! Now as she licked, Swiftmoon inserted a finger into Marikes cunt. This caused a whole new volley of clenching and shaking, though not quite another explosion as before, more like the low rumble that comes right BEFORE an avalanche, warning of the inevitable rush that was to come. She heard someone panting and whining as a dog might as it strains to give birth to its pups, then realized the sound was emanating from her own lips. Her skin tingled and she felt the base of her finger and toenails itching. Her teeth had a dull ache and her eyes watered, but the pleasure coming from between her legs seemed to blot out the rest of the sensations. Swiftmoon scraped sharp teeth against that wondrous throbbing nub of flesh and that was the final ingredient needed to cause Marike to explode. She arched her back and howled. Not the sound of rage or frustration that humans might term a howl, but a real, feral, wolf like howl. Pain flashed through her body alongside the pleasure, swimming the same neural currents until the two became indistinguishable. She lay there thrashing and shaking, sweating and shivering. She was afire and frozen all at once. Her mind drifted in a fog of mingled satiation and hunger. She could hear voices through the fog. A female one saying "It's not working, her body craves the change but perhaps the taste was not enough? Perhaps she needs more?" A male voice saying "We can't leave her like this, but we cannot risk impregnating her as well. Open her mouth." Marike felt something pressing against her lips as fingers gently opened her mouth. Then something hot and hard nudged its way into her mouth and a soft voice told her to suck it. Her eyes were still closed but she instinctively closed her lips around the throbbing cylinder of flesh as it slowly pumped into her. Swiftmoon's had was around the base squeezing and pumping her mates cock as it slid into the strangers lips. Marike could smell the rich animal scent of him, it filled her nostrils and seemed to flow into her very core. She could smell the fragrance of her own cunt and that of Swiftmoon's on the other woman's hand. She could smell the scents of meats, of the hides beneath her, of the very stone of the cavern itself. It was as if her sense of smell had suddenly expanded. She could taste the flesh of the man as well. She could swear she could savor the blood as it pulsed in the veins beneath the parchment thin flesh of his manhood. The thought and taste excited her and she sucked all the harder, bringing her own hands up to cover those of Swiftmoon, and within a few thrusts taking over herself, squeezing the base of the shaft as she devoured the fleshy rod. Soon she could not help but to scrape her teeth on the skin, causing the man to stiffen and his member to swell even wider. His hands went into her hair as he began to thrust into her hot hungry mouth. She put her hand behind him to grasp his thrusting buttocks and was not surprised to feel a coating of thin fur there. He began to grunt and gasp, then he pushed his member in as far as it would go and it began to pulse, and hot thick fluid filled Marikes throat and was shot down her throat. It tasted like a thousand things all at once; salty, sweet, meaty, bloody, honey thick and heady as wine. It pulsed into her in spurts accompanied by the man's moans and growls. She felt lightening sparks inside her as it slipped down her throat. Spasms wracked her as she felt her cunt convulse again, untouched. She fell back to the furs, the last spurt of his cum splattering on her heaving breasts. The man and woman rolled away from Marike panting and gasping. The mans prick was still stiff and shiny with Marikes saliva and the sheen of his own semen. Swiftmoon's hand went to it automatically and stroked it, keeping it turgid. Marike began to roll from side to side, the spasms in her cunt seeming to run through her whole body. She could hear sounds like rope being stretched, and the cracking of bones. An exhilaration ran through her and her sense of smell became even more intense. She could smell the sweet musky scent of the males sweat, and the tang of his seed. She sniffed again and could smell Swiftmoon's dripping juices, and her mind suddenly KNEW that the other woman was pregnant. She opened her eyes and the world looked changed. Reds were subtracted, yellows and blues were there, the rest were intense variations of gray. The sounds of her two companions breathing were almost deafening, and the wind was howling outside, why had she not heard that before? The crackling sound drew her attention and she realized she could hear the oil sizzling in the lamp wick. She rolled over onto all fours, and realized the joints in her elbows felt different, as did her knees. She tried to speak, but her throat resisted and all that emerged was a plaintive whining sound. The male spoke, "I have never seen one change so quickly!' The female purred, "She was born for this my love, she will make a wonderful packmate." Then Marike found herself bowled over. She wriggled on her back, pinned beneath the weight of the other woman. Her eyes glowed in the dim light and her lips were pulled back in a feral grin, much longer and sharper than human teeth ought to be. Swiftmoon continued, snarling "as long as she remembers who is first mate to you!" Marike wriggled some more but realized she was trapped. This new form was strange to her and the woman atop her was so imposing and commanding that she just relaxed hoping that if she did not struggle, Swiftmoon would realize she meant no harm and let her up. After a few moments, that is what happened. Marike slunk to a corner to try to keep from shaking. She felt like she wanted to cry, but her new eyes would not tear up, instead she seemed to be unconsciously whining with every exhaled breath. The male spoke again, "I think she understands. She will not challenge you, even when the birthing comes." Swiftmoon crawled over to Marike, "I did not mean to frighten you. What happened, it is our way." She reached out and stroked the white fur that now covered Marike's shoulder. The man came closer. She could smell him, his sweat and musk and it caused her loins to clench once more. "If I had not found you this night, you would have been dead in less than an hour. We have given you a chance at a new life with us. Our kind are an old people, though some of us are born, as my child will be, and some of us are "made" as you were this night. To normal folk, our body fluids are either a poison, or they bring about the change. Something about you told me you would not perish. Though if you had, meat is meat so the saying goes amongst our kind." "We can only bring forth issue in our two legged form, and our young are born human and do not change for many a year." Swiftmoon leaned forward, "Thus in the form you are now, it would be safe for him to take you." A shiver ran through Marike at those words and she heard the cracking and leathery stretching sounds once more as the male began to shift his form. She watched in awe as hair sprouted from his skin and his limbs twisted into new shapes. A muzzle extended from his face filled with sharp ivory teeth. To Marike, his scent changed, but she could smell the human scent underneath as well. He approached her, his tongue lolling out from his muzzle, his crystal blue eyes never leaving hers. She shivered at the hunger in those eyes. She imagined what it would be like to be prey, to see those eyes approaching and know you had no chance of escape. She felt that way now, though she knew the wolf did not mean to kill her. He sniffed the air around her face, then licked her muzzle. She stood up as he circled her, stopping behind her to smell her excited scent. She felt him nuzzling her back there, the flat hot wetness of his tongue tasting her. She whimpered in hunger, then she felt his paws on her shoulders, not all of his weight, but enough o pin her in place. Something hard was probing the lips of her wet cunt. Then it found the center of her and split it asunder. It stretched her wide open and began to slide into her, pushing her further and further as it did. She closed her eyes and a long ululating howl escaped her. Soon he had buried the entire hard length of himself in her, and he began to thrust, slowly at first, then picking up speed. Quivers rant through her body as spasms began where they connected and rippled throughout her being. She looked up and saw Swiftmoon laying facing them, her legs spread wide and two of her fingers plunging into her womanhood in time with her lovers cock pumping into his new mate. When eh exploded in her she felt as if whatever shred of humanity she had were stripped away in the white hot flood of his seed. The three of them exploded together, a pack, one soul shared between three bodies. Marike awoke some hours later. The male was behind her, his arm wrapped around her waist. His erection pressed against her naked backside, some dream causing him to stir. Marike found her own arms wrapped around Swiftmoon, one hand casually cradling her swelling breast. She leaned forward and kissed the woman under her ear and was rewarded with a satisfied sigh from her sleeping lover. Marike had never felt she had belonged in the village. Now she felt like she had never been meant to belong anywhere but here. She would learn to hunt, and when the baby (or would it be babies? Did not wolves produce litters of pups?) came, she would work with the Master (Did he have a name as well?) and make sure Swiftmoon and the young were well fed. Maybe someday he would mate with her as well, and the young would grow together as siblings. And woe to Artuck and his ilk should they ever set foot nearby. She would revel in showing that nit-brained waste of skin just how true the old wives tales were. She wrinkled her nose at the thought of closing her teeth on Artucks unwashed flesh. Then she smiled and licked her now sharper teeth. Meat is meat!