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Monarch of the Back Country - Part 3

Theo S. Bernard

There was a spring in Dairmid's step as he made his way through the forest. He and Alban followed a rough trail left by other red deer, and it grew clearer as they descended into a wide valley. They emerged from the forest, stopping to scan the open ground with instinctive caution. The scent of deer was clear here, and sure enough, they spotted a group of hinds at the far side of a meadow. Eager to meet them, Dairmid splashed across the swift water of a stony river, and pushed forward through spiky Matagouri bushes and tall summer grass.

A couple of the females looked up as the two young males approached, and Dairmid was struck by their elegant beauty. They moved with an easy grace. Dark russet-red hair covered their backs, but lighter colouring emphasised the curves of belly and tail. Large ears forward in attention, they regarded the new-comers with casual interest. Dairmid felt a stirring in his belly and his loins, and he felt sure that he could woo these beautiful creatures.

But his confidence was short-lived. As he approached, the thud of heavy hooves pulled Dairmid's attention from the females. A magnificent stag emerged from the trees and stalked towards Dairmid and Alban. His head bore a large set of thirteen point antlers. He drew up beside Dairmid, daring the younger stag to get any nearer to his harem.

They eyed each other. Thirteen Point was several years older and considerably bigger than Dairmid. But Dairmid needed to be near the hinds; he deserved it. He had been too young and uncertain to face an older stag during the previous rut, but that was a year ago. This year, he would not back down. He drew himself up taller and stepped forward.

Thirteen Point was not about to lose his pride or his harem to an insolent upstart. He leapt forward and spun to face Dairmid, blocking his path. Dairmid felt a red mist of rage descend over his mind as he lowered his head and charged.

Their antlers locked with a crash, and Diarmid felt a surge of triumph as Thirteen Point gave ground. He almost forgot the hinds; the thrill of testing his strength against this massive opponent was reward enough. But suddenly it seemed like he had run into a cliff of solid rock; Thirteen Point had braced himself and brought all his weight to bear. Dairmid held for a moment, pushing with every ounce of his strength. He might as well have tried to hold back one of the mighty glaciers. His foot slipped, and he knew he'd tried too hard. Unbalanced, he tumbled back and sideways, exposing his delicate flank to Thirteen Point's massive antlers. His lust and pride were instantly replaced by terror as he fell. Hard bone slammed into his shoulder.

Perhaps the older stag was experienced enough to sense his own victory and hold back, or perhaps Dairmid was just lucky; in any case, the sharp points of his massive antlers hit with enough force to bruise Dairmid, but no major damage was done. The youngster scrambled to his feet and fled towards the trees, limping from the pain in his shoulder. Alban was close behind him, and Thirteen Point stood and bellowed after them, his primacy confirmed. The forest hid Dairmid's shame, and he slowed to a walk. He imagined the hinds looking towards Thirteen Point with new admiration, and hung his head.

They moped around the fringes of the valley for a week, and it seemed as if the autumn would be a repeat of the previous year's frustration. The hinds grew even more beautiful in their eyes, even as their scent grew more enticing. But Thirteen Point remained nearby and watchful at all times. Dairmid's bruised shoulder reminded him of the danger of a direct challenge, and he did not feel brave enough to try again. However, the allure of the hinds prevented them from moving on, and so they loitered, frustrated. Small release was found by mounting each other, or simply by thrusting against an imaginary hind as they watched the older stag at work and savoured the distant aroma of the hinds. Dairmid and Alban both developed a heady reek of semen and stale urine, but nothing could fill the ache they felt.

Thirteen Point became particularly busy as several of his hinds came into full season at the same time. Dairmid watched him pursue a hind, nuzzling at her flank, sniffing at her tail, and sampling her urine, until eventually she stood for him to mount her. The big stag was an impressive sight as he braced himself and thrust upwards and into her with a practised ease. His protruding cock dripped a splash of semen as he dropped back to the ground.

His performance was repeated later in the day, but this time the hind was less interested in his advances, and kept moving away when he tried to mount her. Thirteen Point's attention was entirely focussed on this game, and so he had not noticed that another of his harem desired his attention. She was an older hind, perhaps not as lithe or as pretty as the female he pursued, but to Dairmid, she was still an object of extreme desire. He was quick to notice when she wandered away from Thirteen Point and the other hinds, and nearer to the edge of the forest where the youngsters were watching. Perhaps the hind knew they were there, or perhaps she was merely looking for some better grass. As she drew close to them, her scent wafted into the trees with full force, and both the males knew that she was at a peak level of desirability.

Dairmid and Alban glanced at one another, and it seemed that a plan came to them both by instinct. Alban broke cover first, and strode out into the meadow with apparent confidence. He walked around the treeline until he was well away from Dairmid, and then he turned and waited.

Dairmid took his cue, and held his head high as he walked over to the hind. Her smell filled his nose, and it required strong effort to stay focussed. She watched his approach, and showed no animosity as he nuzzled his nose into her neck. She even closed her eyes and craned her neck a bit, enjoying the attention. Her response sent a warm suffusion of affirmation through the young stag. Dairmid felt that he could stay there, pressing his nose against this warm and enticing creature, for the rest of his life. But he knew that Thirteen Point was not far away, and might notice him at any moment. He nudged the hind towards the trees, hardly daring to hope that she would go with him.

To his amazement and joy, she strode forward eagerly. Behind him, somewhere on the other size of the meadow, he heard a bellow which sounded like Alban, and the thud of hooves as two stags broke into a run. The sounds moved away in the opposite direction. Dairmid barely heard them; his attention was focussed on the image of beauty and desire who walked beside him. They moved far enough to be out of sight from the meadow, and stopped at a mossy clearing. Dairmid could not longer contain his desire, and he swung around to face the hind's rump.

He eased his nose forward, and she stood still, tail raised. He'd never been so close to a female, at least not since he was a tiny calf, and he barely remembered that. Now the full strength of her pheromone-laden scent filled his nose and his mind and left no room for anything else. He could see, nestled in the lighter fur beneath her tail, the delicate slit of her vulva. She strained a little and a small stream of urine flowed out and splattered to the ground. It seemed like the most natural thing to extend his lower lip and catch a little of the warm liquid. He raised his head and sniffed deeply, drinking in the scent of it. It seemed to flow through him from his nose, down his spine and belly and legs, and then into his loins, like a surge of warm golden light. Sensations of wonder and desire overwhelmed him. His testes tingled and his cock grew firm. His heart pounded.

The world seemed to vanish; he could think of nothing else but the hind. He could do only one thing: He reared up and mounted her. She stepped forward, and he dropped to the ground, disappointed. He tried again, and this time she stood. He felt the muscles and bones of her hips against his chest. She felt warm and solid. Instinct drove him to thrust forward. His cock slid out, probing. He felt the hair of her rump against the tip of his member. The sensation produced a rush of excitement, but no, it wasn't right. She took another step, trying to keep her balance under his weight. He couldn't hold his position; he slid off her once more. Frustration and desire swirled, but the older hind didn't seem concerned. She'd seen it all before. She stood, braced, as he mounted again. This time, slick warmth surrounded the tip of his cock. He pressed forward a little, just to make sure, and felt her labia ride over his cock. At last he knew, for certain, that he'd found his goal. His forelegs wrapped her waist and his muscles bunched even as an inferno built in his loins. Then he leaped, throwing himself upwards and forwards against her rump. The action forced his cock deep into her, until her entrance was wrapped snugly around the thick base of his member. Then a thick volley of his cum gushed into her as his muscles contracted and a wave of exquisite release rushed through him.

Dairmid dropped back to the ground, his cock slipping out of the hind. He stood in a daze. A detached part of him noticed that she stood with her back arched for a few seconds, and a trickle of his seed dribbled from her entrance. Now the smell of his musk and his semen mingled with the enticing smell of her pheromones, and Dairmid found the smell very satisfying.

Dairmid slowly came back to his senses. He turned at the sound of a rustle of branches and the thud of a stealthy hoof. Alban emerged from the trees, having successfully outrun Thirteen Point then made his way back via the forest. The young stag was still a bit out of breath from the chase, but his eyes sparkled. He approached the hind as if he had mated many times before, and Dairmid was content to step aside and watch. As for the hind, she seemed perfectly happy to accept the attention of anyone bold enough to win her with a gambit.

Alban nuzzled at her tail, and then, when she stood still for him, he mounted. Dairmid was surprised, and a little jealous, when his friend seemed to balance and find his goal with ease on his first attempt. Dairmid had only seen the process from a distance, and he watched with interest as Alban slipped the end of his cock into the hind's dripping entrance. Then he leaped and thrust, and Dairmid could see his muscles clench as he too poured his seed into the hind's fertile womb. He dropped to the ground, a glazed look in his eyes. Another splash of semen dripped from the tip of his cock as it shrunk and slipped back into its sheath.

They stood for perhaps thirty seconds, adrift in a feeling of satisfaction. But their triumph was short lived; they were wrenched back to reality by a great roar and the thunder of hooves from the nearby meadow. Thirteen Point had sensed that something was amiss.

Both young stags knew the magnitude of their offending, and they knew the wrath of the older stag would be severe. With a quick nod to the hind, they leaped for the trees and set off up the valley as fast as they could. For a minute, the crashing pursuit of Thirteen Point was close behind, and terror gave them extra speed. But the big stag soon abandoned the chase, for it was not worth risking the rest of his hard-won harem for mere vengeance. He gave a last mighty roar of anger and warning before he turned back. Dairmid and Alban kept running until they had left the meadow and the hinds far behind. They knew that they could not show their muzzles again in those parts.

The southern branch of the river brought them to a land of towering peaks and great ice-carved valleys filled with forest. They climbed high to avoid swarms of biting insects, and here they found a landscape of small gullies, icy streams and clear mountain lakes surrounded by tussock grass and other tasty vegetation. Living was easy here. They had left the rut and the hinds far behind, but they did not pine for the madness any more. Deep down, Dairmid knew that he was still too young to attract or keep a harem, and he was lucky to have mated even one female at his age. But they had both tasted that most sacred of fruit, which every stag would seek until his dying breath.

As the season shifted towards winter, the stags discovered just how much it could rain in these southern mountains. Soon the cold and the relentless winds drove them back down to the forest as the snows came to the high country. Their antlers dropped and their winter coats grew shaggy. Watching Alban nibbling on a mountain daisy as rain dripped off his ears, Dairmid felt a warmth of companionship for his friend. They had conspired together, and shared a most intimate and powerful experience. Come next autumn, he knew that they would be rivals. But for now, they were companions united against the dangers of winter.

They travelled north again, seeking sheltered valleys to avoid the worst of the cold. After a few days, Dairmid smelled a familiar scent. It was warm and strong and a bit frightening, and when they emerged from the trees and found another stag waiting for them, Dairmid recognised Thirteen Point, now missing his magnificent antlers. The older stag was thin and tired, but he still carried his head with pride. Dairmid stiffened, but Thirteen Point trotted up to them with a look of welcome, and shook his head in a disarming greeting. The scent of fertile hinds had long faded, and the treachery and antagonism of the autumn was forgotten.

The three stags shared a cheerful bonhomie through the winter. The rugged southern mountains seemed to reach up and pull down every drop of rain from the brooding winter sky. Huge waterfalls tumbled from the heights, and great rivers thundered down through the forest. Grey mist shrouded the peaks for days at a time. But the lush forests offered plenty of food, and the deer kept themselves in good condition. Thirteen Point lost his gaunt look, and a spark of energy returned to him as he led the younger stags in their never-ending search for food and shelter.

Even the deepest winter must eventually give way, and spring brought warmer temperatures, but little decrease in the incessant rains. New growth flourished everywhere, and the deer grew sleek. The spring also brought the itch of new antlers, and within a few weeks they were all sporting a set of spreading velvet-covered tines. Looking at Alban, Dairmid realised that they had both grown taller and heavier; he and Ablan were both nearly a match for Thirteen Point in height. A small unease grew in the back of his mind, for the memory of conflict still lingered. But for now, they remained companions.

The heat of summer arrived, and their antlers matured and lost their velvet coating. Diarmid and Alban both had respectable twelve-point sets, but Thirteen Point now sported impressive fourteen point trees. They polished them smooth against tree branches as the hot summer days passed.

With the summer came the rising urge to test their strength, and they took to sparring with each other. The bouts started in a half-hearted way, but each day they grew a little more dedicated and pushed a little harder. But always they remained playful and cautious, for there was nothing to fight over. Dairmid felt strong and proud to roam the mountains with two magnificent stags in their prime.

Perhaps they became too confident, there among the lonely southern peaks. Perhaps they could have been more watchful, or perhaps it was as inevitable as the turning seasons. The crack and thud of a high-power rifle bullet were alien sounds to their ears. Dairmid and Alban stood paralysed in shock as Fourteen Point gave a small grunt, then folded to the ground, a red stain spreading across his chest. It was a clean shot; at least there was that small mercy. It took a second for the horror to seep in to the younger stags, then terror grabbed them and they raced for the cover of the forest, away from the sound of the rifle, across the stream, and on up the valley in a tearing, crashing rush.

Panic finally abated and left them panting. They drank at a tiny stream, then continued at a slower pace. Their shock was still raw, and their only instinct was to keep moving. So they travelled north and east over several days, leaving their fear behind them. They felt the loss of Fourteen Point keenly, and yet they accepted it. The cycle of life would continue. At first, they remained hyper-alert, jumping at any strange sound. But their distant ancestors had adapted to face danger every day, and so they soon regained their equilibrium. Individuals would come and go, but the Eternal Herd would endure.

The days were growing shorted as summer slid into autumn. Exploring down a new valley, Dairmid and Alban encountered an intoxicating smell. They had entirely forgotten the power of that scent during the long winter, but now they remembered, and it brought a tingle to their bellies. There were hinds nearby.

The thought of females drew the stags irresistibly. They followed deer trails and their noses through scattered beech forest until they found their goal: three pretty hinds grazing on the forest fringes, with weaned calves playing nearby. The hinds looked up as the males approached, and their ears flicked with interest. They played it cool, but Dairmid could tell that he was being appraised. Dairmid's gaze travelled over the nearest hind, taking in her delicate nose, her liquid eyes and large sensitive ears. He needed to be near these females, and there was no older stag standing in his way. He strode forward to meet them.

He mingled with the hinds, nudging a shoulder here and a rump there, savouring their smell. They surrounded him, and he felt as if he had strayed into a happy dream full of golden light and warmth. But a small irritation nagged at him: He did not have their full attention. In his eagerness, he'd almost forgotten Alban. His friend had also come to greet the hinds, and now he stood in a happy trance as one of the hinds sniffed at his neck.

This could not be. A strong resentment rose in Dairmid at that moment. The hinds were his, and no stag would share them, not even Alban. His friend was an impressive sight - young and strong and sleek. Precisely for that reason, Dairmid could not tolerate his presence any longer. He was the equal of Dairmid - almost.

Dairmid snorted and pawed the ground. Alban shook his antlers and his eyes narrowed. Dairmid stepped forward, and lowered his antlers ever so slightly. They looked at each other for a long moment, and in that gaze, they exchanged more than could have been said with any words. Dairmid would not back down, and they both knew it, as surely as they knew that autumn would turn to winter. Nonetheless, Alban desired the hinds as much as Dairmid, and if he faced any other stag, he would fight for them. Perhaps he could even win. This they also knew. But their shared bond was uncommonly strong, forged over three years of shared hardship and adventure. Perhaps it was a noble act of sacrifice, or perhaps it was mere pragmatism. Whatever the reason, Alban turned and walked calmly away until he vanished into the forest without a backwards glance.

It would be nice to say that Dairmid missed his friend. In truth, he thought only of the hinds. He ignored their calves, who were already weaned. He grazed a little, but their scent kept distracting him, and he lost his appetite. He spent a lot of time patrolling the fringes of the little herd, scanning the forest and the distant ridges for other deer. He would walk a few hundred meters upwind, and there he would sniff the clear air for any scent. From time to time he would raise his nose and give a great roar, to warn any stags nearby that he meant business.

After a few days, his patrols paid off: he caught the scent of another stag, strong and wild compared to the smell of the hinds. He watched the forest until the newcomer emerged from the trees. It was an older male, more experienced than Dairmid but not in great condition. They eyed each other across the meadow. Dairmid gave a roar, then strode out to meet him. The other male stepped forward. Dairmid turned to block his path, preventing him from approaching the hinds. They stood and eyed each other. Dairmid felt a fierce upwelling of protectiveness for the females. They were his; nobody else was going to get near them, especially not this old-timer.

They swung to face each other. The newcomer was not cowed by Dairmid's show of determination. Suddenly he lunged, antlers down. Dairmid was taken by surprise, which was certainly the older stag's intent. They met with a clash of bone against bone, but Dairmid was off-balance. He slipped and rolled sideways onto the grass. The other stag pressed forward, meaning to drive his antlers into Dairid's belly. But instinct made the younger stag twist with all his strength and speed, so that he kept rolling and the older stag's antlers crashed into his shoulder and back instead.

Dairmid scrambled to his feet and spun as the newcomer lowered his antlers to charge again. His bruised shoulder throbbed, and the tumble had sapped his strength. But as he stood, he caught a glimpse of the hinds, who were all watching the fight. Pride and desire and protective instincts all fuelled the rage which seared through him; he would not surrender the hinds to anyone. He braced himself, and this time he met the assault with his full strength.

The crack of meshing antlers echoed around the valley. The older stag was scruffy in his appearance, but that hid a surprising strength. Muscles rippled as they strained to gain advantage. Old Timer gave ground, but it was a feint. As soon as Dairmid adjusted his footing to press forward, he found himself engaged once more and pushed backwards. A point to Old Timer. They parted antlers by some mutual agreement and stood, panting. Dairmid was mad with raw energy and jealousy, but when he looked into the older stag's eyes, he saw something else. This was sport to the older male; he'd seen it all and done it all, and the thrill of the chase was as much motivation as the favour of the hinds. Dairmid sensed all this, and it renewed his desire to conquer. He was the first to break their short truce; before the older stag could regain his breath, Dairmid charged again.

Old Timer was ready for him, his legs braced. Muscles straining, the stags stood locked in a stalemate. A little coolness crept into Dairmid's mind over the heat of battle. He knew he was fitter; all he needed to do was anticipate the older stag's tricks, and wear him out. Instead of rushing to capitalise on every feint and slip, he kept his head down and his hooves solidly on the ground. He became an immovable boulder. Gradually, inexorably, he felt Old Timer weaken. He pressed steadily forward, and hooves scrabbled as the other struggled to hold. Back a little further, and Old Timer slipped and dropped to his knees as Dairmid bore down on him. Off-balance, he couldn't help but twist to one side.

Dairmid stood, his head lowered and tilted forward as a warning. He did not attempt to gore the older stag while he had the advantage. This was partly out of caution, in case it was another trick. But despite his rage, Dairmid also felt a swell of respect for this seasoned campaigner, and he allowed him the chance to regain his feet. He was ready to match any further attack, but Old Timer simply shook his antlers in acknowledgement, and turned back towards the trees. Dairmid lifted his head and loosed a great bellow of triumph as he watched the old stag depart.

Dairmid's bruises and aching muscles were immediately forgotten when he returned to the hinds. He sensed a new acceptance from them, for he had proven himself worthy. He closed his eyes as they gathered around him, basking in the warmth of their presence. He was sniffed and nuzzled from all directions for a few minutes, and he noticed a particularly intoxicating scent which brought a throbbing sensation to his testes. When he opened his eyes, two of the hinds had wandered off to resume their grazing. The third stood near him, her soft eyes regarding him and her beautiful white rump towards him.

Dairmid took a slow step closer, and the fight now seemed like a trivial thing. He'd fight a hundred more stags for the favour of this beautiful female. There beneath her tail was her delicate vulva. He nosed at it, feeling the softness on his nose. Her tail raised, and a stream of urine slashed out onto his waiting lip. He lifted his head and inhaled deeply, and the scent from her warm liquid rolled through him like the golden nectar of the gods. Now he could think of nothing but her as his cock swelled beneath his belly.

He reared up, his forelegs reaching for her. The hind was still nervous; she stepped forward and Dairmid dropped back to the ground. He tried again, and this time she stood still as he slid over her rump and locked his forelegs around her waist. Her warmth felt right against his belly. He pressed forward, and the tip of his questing cock brushed the soft folds of her entrance. It was sheer magic as he found the right spot and slipped inside her warm passage.

To an observer, it would seem like their intimacy was over in a couple of seconds as Dairmid leaped and thrust forward. To the young stag, time had no meaning. A wave of power and ecstasy picked him up and carried him forwards as his rock-hard shaft slid deeply inside her and her heat surrounded him. The power of the mountains, gathered in him through the changes of the seasons, now flowed out into her as his muscles contracted and a powerful jet of semen shot into her. He felt every liquid surge and every miniscule twitch of her muscles as he filled her. Then at last he was gliding back to earth, and he felt the cool mountain air on his dripping cock as it slipped out.

He shook his antlers and breathed a deep lungful of air filled with the scent of their coupling. The hind stood with her back arched for a few moments, then lowered her head to look for a tasty morsel of grass.

Dairmid mated her again an hour later, and once more as the last light of the day touched the mountain peaks. Each time he could hardly believe his good fortune, that he could be accepted by such beautiful and worthy creatures as the hinds. Each time he thought that his desire was satisfied for good, but soon her enticing scent and elegant curves drew him back. Such is the nature of desire; it only faded as her hormonal state changed in recognition of the sewn seed. Only then did Dairmid lose his obsession with her, although he still aggressively challenged any stag who approached.

Each of his hinds came into full season in their turn, and each time the same madness of desire came over Dairmid. Between the bouts of mating, he prowled the fringes of the herd, keeping a watchful eye on the forest. He saw several younger stags, but none dared challenge him. He ate little, and grew gaunt.

Then, as the last warmth of autumn faded, he knew it was over. As pretty a the hinds were, his job was done and he felt no need to stay longer. There were no lengthy farewells; he simply wandered off. Such was the ancient way.

The first delicate snow of winter was sifting down over the beech forest when Dairmid, now free of his antlers, detected a familiar scent. He trotted forward with a new energy in his steps. He spotted another stag though the trees. The other stag was looking as dishevelled as he was, but he immediately knew it was Alban. He hesitated when he got within a couple of paces, but Alban was pleased to see him, and greeted him with a friendly shove on the shoulder. Dairmid eyed his friend, and took a deep sniff. From Alban's condition and the faint scent which still clung to his coat, it was clear that he'd also spent the autumn in the company of hinds. Dairmid nodded his approval as they set off together in search of winter pastures.

As they climbed over the summit of a ridge, they stood for a moment and looked out across the tussock lands, the beech forests, and the craggy snow-covered peaks: two stags, as proud and strong as any who roamed the Southern Alps.