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Princess Fang Lily

Chapter 1

Aina crouched in the bushes with her father, watching in dismay as two foxhounds forced a fox to his knees. The fox was from her tribe, a handsome young male with a slender, toned body. He wore a deerskin skirt, his chest was bare, and in his long white mane, feathers were woven. Aina knew he'd been carrying a spear and probably a sheathed knife around his neck, but his foxhound captors had disarmed him . . . and were preparing to rape him.

The foxhounds were dressed like all the foxhounds that entered the forest: cropped riding coats, tight riding breeches, and black knee-high boots. Their white cravats glared in the buttery sunlight and red leaves that drifted slowly to the forest floor. The forest was always red. Aina knew the hounds called it Crinnington Forest, but the foxes of her clan called it Celankobi. She scowled. The hounds were always trying to rename their homeland, their waterfalls, their rivers . . .

"Ah!" the young male cried when one of the foxhounds grabbed him by the mane. He was kneeling on paws and knees between them, and the two hounds knelt on either end of him. They were unbuttoning their trousers!

"Pallo!" Aina hissed at her father. Pallo meant "Father" in the language of the foxes, and she hissed the word again when her father did not respond. "You have to stop them!" Aina's eyes watered with angry tears. She started forward but her father grabbed her arm.

Aina went still when her father looked her hard in the eye. His name was

Thandanani, but she was never to call him by name. To do so would have been to show him a tremendous amount of disrespect. To disobey him now would have done the same. Aina grudgingly moved her paw from the dagger strapped to her thigh and settled on her haunches again.

Thandanani nodded firmly and his bright brown eyes turned back to the assault happening not ten feet away. He whispered without looking at his daughter, "Ainanani, there are only two of us, and of the two of us, I am very old. If we go leaping out of the bushes, those hounds will grab their weapons, and that will be end of us."

Aina's ears flattened. Her father only called her by her full name whenever he wished to make a point - or to control her foul temper. She took a shuddering breath, and tendrils of long red mane lifted from her glaring hazel eyes. She was a lovely young vixen, with high breasts and round hips, lush red fur and fiercely slanted eyes almost identical to her father's. She had also inherited Thandanani's red mane, but sometimes she caught her father watching her and knew he wished she had also inherited his cool head. Her name translated to Fang Lily, for she was both beautiful and terrible, the pride of her tribe.

"I brought you here to teach you a lesson," Thandanani whispered, watching with a cold face as the hound kneeling behind the boy slowly pushed his skirt up his backside.

Aina's scowl darkened. She recognized the boy, for she would know the white blotches on his shoulder anywhere. His name was Ukudlala. He was nineteen years old and had a tendency to wander off alone to explore. He looked up to Aina a great deal, and Thandanani often blamed his daughter for the boy's need to wander: Aina was constantly wandering from their burrow, sneaking off to the waterfall or else to climb the trees. Her father chided her constantly for it. Because of the hounds and their endless foxhunt, the forest was dangerous. As future elder of the tribe, Aina was expected to set an example. And so on and so forth went her father's lectures. Aina had never listened before. Today's lesson was meant to make her listen.

Aina swallowed hard. "Please help him, Pallo. I understand now. I'll never wander again . . . I swear."

The hounds laughed nastily as they smoothed their paws along the tight muscles of Ukudlala's trembling body. The one behind the boy took his soft pink phallus and gently began to massage. Ukudlala whimpered, his pink organ swelling in those caressing fingers. The hound kneeling in front of him took out his large brown erection and grazed it against the boy's lips. Ukudlala trembled harder.

Aina glowered, wishing the hounds' rifles were not so close to them in the grass. The foxhounds often carried tranquilizer rifles to take the foxes down. The luckiest ones were then killed immediately and stripped for their beautiful red pelts. The unluckiest ones were raped and fondled first, the torture extending until the hounds lost interest and killed them. Aina knew they had knives in their boots - skinning knives used to carefully take pelts. Sometimes they simply called their horses, and slinging the dead fox over the saddle, they would ride away.

More angry tears came as Aina realized Ukudlala was about to become a pelt.

"You are not exactly dressed for a fight, my daughter," Thandanani said quietly. "Stay calm. Let me show you how hounds are best handled."

Aina bit her lip and nodded, trying to keep from losing her wits and launching from the bushes. Her father was right: she was crouched beside him not in her hunting trousers and long moccasins, but in bare feet and a deerskin summer dress, which fell between her naked legs in a triangular flap. Her shoulders were also naked, and the dress had a deep neckline that revealed her heaving cleavage. Around her throat was a necklace of shells she had collected at the river, and blue feathers were in her mane. She was dressed in the clothing she might have worn at home while weaving baskets - not that she ever spent much time doing such things.

Aina prided herself as a hunter and hated that her father had purposely forced her to leave her bow and quiver behind. She knew exactly how hounds should be handled: with an arrow to the face!

The hounds were seconds from raping Ukudlala. The one behind him had lifted his tail, had taken his hips and was preparing to cram himself in. The one in front of him had grabbed him by the mane and was forcing him to lick his erection. Ukudlala's pink tongue licked reluctantly. He was still trembling and tears were in his eyes.

Frowning, Thandanani lifted his black paw in a gesture. Aina was relieved to see two of the nearby trees respond at once. The hounds looked up in horror and screamed as the branches reached for them. Ukudlala scrambled back frantically, chest heaving, watching with his mouth open as the trees snatched the hounds into their branches. The hounds continued to scream and flail in horror, but Aina knew nothing was happening to them. The trees were simply holding them prisoner.

Thandanani looked at Aina and nodded solemnly. "And that, my daughter, is how we handle hounds."

Aina lowered her eyes, wanting to argue but knowing she should not. She hated magic tricks. Magic was weak. But her father insisted that their tribe use magic trickery to evade the hounds without harming them: many of the oldest foxes could manipulate the trees, breathe underwater, cast false doppelgangers to confuse the enemy, make vines grow from the earth - and the very oldest could even disappear. The foxes employed these tricks to survive at their elder's insistence, for Thandanani would rather use trickery than sink to the level of a hound . . . and kill.

Aina scowled to think of it. If they wanted to defeat the hounds, they would have to become the hounds! Didn't her father see that? Every time he allowed a hound to walk away alive, he was killing another young red fox. Those brutes were _slaughtering_their loved ones! She thought of her mother and her heart ached.

"It is not our goal to defeat the hounds," Thandanani said quietly - and Aina knew her father had been in her mind. The very oldest foxes could do that as well, and her father was well past a century. It was said Celankobi and the Jabulani River made the foxes live long, but then the hounds came, and the lifespan of the foxes grew shorter as the magic of the forest was sullied by violence.

"It is our goal to survive them," Thandanani went on. He offered Aina his arm, and she swallowed guiltily as she helped her elderly father to stand.

Thandanani was slightly hunched, very tall and very thin, with blue feathers identical to Aina's in his long red mane. The same spirit bird had given the feathers to them both, to thank them for honoring the forest. Thandanani was also wearing bear teeth around his throat and on his ankles. Frowning and concerned, he made his careful way toward Ukudlala, who sat on the ground, looking relieved to see his rescuers.

"More foxes!" shouted the hounds in the trees. "It's an ambush! An ambush!"

Aina's ear twitched irritably. I wish it was an ambush! Gritting her fangs, she went to Ukudlala and helped him up.

Ukudlala looked at Aina with stars in his blue eyes. Aina avoided his gaze, remembering that he was a very sweet, very naïve boy. His long white lashes fluttered as he looked at her, and as his chest heaved with absent longing, the white stripe cutting up his belly heaved as well. He held onto Aina's paw long after she tried to snatch it away. Registering the discomfort on her face, Ukudlala finally let her go. He scratched his ears, blushed, and glanced around for his weapons. Aina found his spear in the grass and passed it to him without looking at him. She was irritated to notice her father watching the two of them in amusement.

"I suppose this is your last venture into the forest alone, Uku," Thandanani said gravely.

Slipping his knife around his neck, Ukudlala held his spear and bowed his head. "Forgive me, Elder." He glanced hopefully at Aina. "I wished to find a flower for Princess Aina. In the hope that she would love me . . ."

Aina moaned. "A flower will not make me love you, Uku. Don't be foolish."

Ukudlala looked at Aina happily. "I would be foolish for you, Princess."

Aina rolled her eyes and looked away.

"Your princess is right," Thandanani said sternly. "You were nearly captured and skinned, my son. Earn my daughter's love through bravery and skill, but not through foolishness." He tilted his head down and smiled kindly. "It should have been you who saved her this day. Or so such stories go."

Ukudlala laughed weakly, looking strained and horrified as he thought of his near-rape.

Thandanani ruffled the boy's mane fondly and put an arm around him. "Let us go back to the burrow. It is getting dark. The forest is ever more dangerous in the night."

Ukudlala nodded.

"W-Wait!" one of the hounds called. "We're sorry!"

"Don't leave us up here!"

"I'll never hunt a fox again!"

Stonily ignoring the foxhounds, the three foxes made their way into the trees as darkness swept fast over the forest.

"Bloody hell! They're leaving us!"

"You red blighters!"

Aina knew the trees would eventually put the foxhounds down - but not for many hours. She smiled. That would give them plenty of time to think about returning to the forest!

The nearest burrow hole was not far. Aina's entire clan lived in an underground network of burrows - all connected by many tunnels hidden throughout the forest. In the center of the network, the foxes would gather in a great underground cavern, and it was there that they would hold festivals, tell stories around the story fire, or hold village meetings to discuss more important matters.

The foxes had been living in the underground maze for many centuries. They did not use real fire but magic fire, which needed no smoke holes and thus, did not reveal the locations of the burrows. Some of the oldest burrows were reinforced with wood and stone, upon which ancient foxes had carved depictions of themselves and the forest. Aina and her father lived in one such burrow.

"Almost home," Thandanani sighed. "Tonight is the story fire. I shall tell the story of Fox and Hound." He glanced at Aina pointedly.

Aina guiltily looked away. So her father had guessed her true reason for always wandering alone in the forest - or perhaps he had finally glimpsed it in her mind. Mind reading was difficult, even among the oldest foxes. If a fox ever heard a thought, it was usually on accident. No doubt Thandanani had heard Aina thinking about her fascination with the hounds. She blushed dismally and suddenly hated herself. But it was true: she was curious. Who were the hounds? Why did they hunt them? What did they do with their pelts? And where did they go to when they left the forest?

Aina had never been outside the forest a day in her life, but she knew foxes were sometimes taken alive. There was even one who had returned with tales of the hounds in frockcoats, riding powerful horses and wearing strange tall hats. The fox also spoke of tall things called buildings, with glass windows and iron fences. There were few trees where the buildings were, he said. And things called streets. Cobbled streets.

Aina would listen to the old fox go on, enrapt as she hugged her knees. He was very lonely and very old: by the time he escaped the hounds, his family had passed on - two having been caught by foxes for their pelts. He told Aina almost anything she wished to know and even taught her to speak the language of the hounds. His name was Hluphizwe, and he had escaped the hounds with lashes on his back. He said that they wiped him when he refused to entertain them. Entertain them how? Aina wanted to know. But it was the one thing Hluphizwe would never tell her.

"The Fox and the Hound is a good story, Elder," Ukudlala said.

Aina rolled her eyes. Suck up.

As they drew closer to the nearest burrow, Ukudlala kept glancing at Aina, flashing her shy smiles, stumbling over his own feet and making a colossal noise as he caught himself. Aina scowled and wished he would stop it. She was a twenty-two-year-old maiden of the forest and he was a blushing, stammering, little boy. Why was he determined to think he was worthy of her!

They reached the burrow at last: the tunnel was very small and tight and had probably been dug out by a cub. Flowers and vines had grown over it. Thandanani extended his paw and the vines politely pulled aside.

"After you," Thandanani said playfully to Ukudlala.

Ukudlala hesitated, not wishing to be disrespectful: the elder was always first in everything. So was the princess. But Thandanani insisted, so the boy got down on his knees and crawled into the tight-fitting tunnel. Aina knew there were guards at the other end, standing in the corridor with spears.

"My daughter," Thandanani said, turning to her, "why do you push away every young male who looks your way? Uku is a fine boy."

Aina snorted and folded her arms. Boy. That was the key word here! Her lip curled, and her necklace of white shells practically glowed against her cleavage in the moonlight. "Uku trips over his own tail, Pallo. One day he will accidentally impale himself while drooling at me."

Thandanani laughed. "My daughter, he is a fine boy," he repeated. "And one of the few in our tribe who isn't afraid of you."

Aina glanced irritably at her father, but her eyes softened reluctantly when he pinched her chin. His brown eyes were warm with sadness and affection. She lowered her long lashes, unable to look at him. He had waited a long time to see her married, for maidens of the red forest were usually married by sixteen. Aina was twenty-two years old and alone, with no lovers to speak of. Thandanani was afraid he would die before he saw her settled, afraid that he would leave her alone in the world.

"I want you to do something for me," Thandanani said.

Aina's ears pricked forward. She looked intently at her father and tried to keep the suspicion from her voice when she said reluctantly, "What do you wish, Pallo?"

Thandanani smiled to hear the respectful tone in her voice. "When Uku flirts with you tonight, I want you to flirt back --" Aina's mouth fell open, but he said before she could protest, "-- just try it. I know flirting is new to you, my daughter, but it's about time you found out what the other girls are giggling about when they refer to their husbands."

Aina blushed miserably. Her father was trying to get her laid! She looked away and jerked her chin. "If you wish it, Pallo."

Thandanani smiled. "Thank you, my daughter." He ducked and crawled inside the burrow.

Aina started to follow but hesitated. The distant sound of howling sent a shiver through her clit and she thought with disgust of the big brown erections she had seen that evening. But her eyes softened . . . and she thought with a smile of the breasts she had seen only weeks before.

No one knew it - not even her father - but while wandering the forest one bright afternoon, Aina had come upon a hound bathing alone at the river. She had fully expected to see a male, but she halted when she caught the feminine scent of moisture on the wind.

Aina had found it remarkable at the time that the hound was bathing alone. Especially given the fact that she was female. Hounds never entered the forest alone. Though they were bastards, they were not stupid. Aina thought it was foolish of her and at the same quite fearless.

The hound's horse stood nearby, snorting softly in the lazy afternoon, a beautiful white mare. She had removed her riding coat and trousers and had waded to her knees in the water, wearing nothing but her smile. God, she was lovely. Full, high breasts with jutting pink nipples, round hips, a high backside under her tail, a tiny waist . . . and Aina would never forget the cute almost heart-shaped spot on the right butt cheek. Her mane, meanwhile, was white, curly, and quite long. She piled it atop her head in a mass and shifted her weight to one leg. Her shapely thighs flexed and her tail swished. She washed under her arm . . . then scooped more water and washed between her thighs. Her eyes hooded and she touched herself and moaned.

Watching from the bushes, Aina remembered how she felt the moisture slip down her thighs. She touched herself under her deerskin dress and stared with hungry eyes, wishing the hound would bend over, perhaps squat and spread her thighs. She had never seen another female's sex. But she wanted to see hers.

"Aina!" Thandanani called down the tunnel.

Aina started and crawled into the burrow after her father.