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An Echo

Chapter 10

Azrian spent a week waiting, waiting in the hope that Zuu'ma would return, forgive, and go on. When the goddess didn't return, she began to wander the Celankobi, healing the trees and the earth as she went. She traveled far across the great forest, riding morosely on Meba's back through clouds of butterflies, listening to the birds sing, and silently admonishing herself.

Zuu'ma was right. Azrian forcefully took everything she wanted . . . even when her victims begged her to stop, she just kept going. She thought with shame of Irmai and the way he begged her not to take him for fear of displeasing Ayni. She hadn't stopped. She hadn't cared. After what she'd done to Zuu'ma, she knew nothing about her had changed. She truly was a demigoddess, for she carried the arrogant mentality of a god. She hated herself each time she remembered the sadness and shame on Zuu'ma's face.

Zuu'ma was her father's lover. Ugh. It was no small wonder then that he had asked Zuu'ma to nurse a child of his. He and Zuu'ma had probably been lovers for thousands of years. Did they have children living in Skkye? The very thought made Azrian sick: she had pretty much licked and fingered her stepmother.

Unhappy and alone, Azrian decided she would travel to the place Sampson had mentioned. It was called Loxney and was in the far north of Varimore. White foxes lived there and worshipped the goddess Kutre, a white spirit of compassion. She would go to Kutre and she would . . . what? Forcefully lick her vagina? Azrian squeezed her eyes shut. Perhaps she should stay alone in Celankobi. Perhaps if she never left the forest, she'd never meet the prince. Prince Etienne was all the way at Wychowl, right? What were the chances of really meeting him in Celankobi?

Night fell, and Azrian slid off Meba's back to make camp. Conjuring a fire would draw from her blood, and since she had eaten little that day_,_ she decided to make a real fire. The benefit of magical fire was the fact that it had no smoke - therefore, those who cast it could enjoy warmth and still go undetected from a distance. But a real fire cast smoke to the sky, had a stronger smell, and even glowed brighter. Azrian knew anyone could be lurking in the forest but took the chance anyway. She wasn't surprised when - five minutes later - a young fox warrior appeared at her camp.

Azrian went very still. She hadn't expected to see a fox of all beasts. Ti'uu's Tribe was long dead - had died in this very forest, in fact. The only ones who entered now were dogs, who came to excavate the old fox ruins for study.

Azrian remained seated, staring at the young warrior. He wore a deerskin skirt and his chest was bare. Around his throat was a leather necklace with a wolf tooth. The tooth lay against bulging pectorals, the nipples of which were hard and pink. He was muscular and lean, his belly ripped, his face that of youth and etched in hatred. Something was wrong with his eyes. They glowed. Like twin candle flames.

"Spirit," Azrian said darkly. She lifted her chin. "Be gone."

The warrior didn't move. He simply stared.

Azrian dropped her eyes to the fire, frustration burning through her.

Stories said that the spirits of mortals were trapped on the earthly plane when they died. Rather than ascending to Skkye, they remained in the mortal realm, and only those who gained the favor and blessing of the gods were allowed to ascend to E'cru. Given how many foxes had perished in Celankobi, Azrian thought it was a miracle she had not seen any spirits of the dead before now. Perhaps it had something to do with Zuu'ma's presence. The spirits of mortals would naturally fear a god-spirit.

Azrian knew the spirit standing over her had died while angry, for he had carried his anger into death. She swallowed her fear and swallowed it hard. She could tame panthers and pythons, but spirits were creatures that had never feared her. And they had always been beyond her control. When she was a little girl, spirits walked her dreams, holding her paws, kissing her cheeks. They were female, she knew, but she never saw their faces. The fox and the hound stopped coming to her as she grew older. She missed them.

"Aina," the spirit whispered. His hatred was so strong that it curled off him, a poisonous fume on the air. She felt his anger swell, and his white mane billowed about him on an ethereal breeze. The flames in his eyes glowed brighter.

"I said be gone!" Azrian repeated firmly.

She screamed softly when the spirit took a halting step and grabbed her by the mane. He threw her facedown in the mud and she ate grass. She tried to get up and managed to get on her knees when he grabbed her by the mane again. "Ah!" His hard fingers tore at her mane, burning her scalp like fire as he groped one of her big breasts. The other swung against the air, jiggling and swollen. He leaned down close, grunting and sighing as he carefully rubbed his hard penis against her clit.

She shivered. She felt paralyzed and didn't know why. But she didn't fight. She could hear screams nearby, sobs, and a female's voice pleading. She gasped: one of the voices belonged to Nhlahla!

"Leave her alone, Uku!"

Azrian's eyes darted back and forth. "Nhlahla?" She hardly had time to wonder at what she was hearing: the spirit punched his erection between the tight lips of her sex. She choked as he started to ride her, so hard her big breasts flapped. He cupped them in fistfuls and squeezed, humped her hard, knocked her knees apart and stabbed himself deeper. Each hot punch sent a jolt of pleasure through her tinged with fear.

"Ah! Ah! Ahhahaaa. . . .!"

"I'll fuck you like you were meant to be fucked. You are my wife!" he growled.

They rocked, the bushes and undergrowth shaking around them. She glanced back and saw the rippling muscles of his belly flexing with each thrust. He was beautiful and terrible, his brilliant eyes shining like flames in the darkness. She wondered if she had looked that way to Irmai: both frightening and fantastic.

"Ah! Ah! Ah!" Azrian thrust her backside out, her tight young body rolling with every thrust.

"You ever run away again, and I'll kill you," the spirit hissed.

His white mane was still flowing around his ears. He grabbed her by the tail and banged himself in, so hard she hiccoughed and her teeth clicked. Her juices were gushing, splashing with each slam. He swelled thicker inside and she sobbed with arousal: her pink clitoris was pulsing tight against their joined sexes. But his fist on her tail was painfully hard. His anger burned through her like fire.

She tried to crawl away. His penis pulled free with a soft suck and her tail dropped to hide her sex as she struggled frantically to crawl from his grasp. Her paw slipped in the mud and she fell, twisting around to land on her shoulder. Her breasts bounced hard. His burning eyes narrowed and he slapped her across the face. She whimpered.

"And still you defy me! I'll teach you!"

He gave her the back of his knuckles.

"Ah!"

Azrian saw the blood fly from her mouth, felt her lip burst like a grape. Pain burned through her neck when he hit her again, and her head snapped back, colliding with a rock. Stars exploded across her eyes. She collapsed on her back, breasts bouncing hard, as blood trickled down her face.

Dazed and confused, she felt the angry spirit groping her breasts. He massaged and suckled them, his eager grunts loud against the soft rise of chirruping crickets. She fumbled blindly and found his head, tried to peal his face off. He caught her wrists in his paw, and pinning them above her head, he spread her thighs and slid himself in again, slowly, deeply. She arched her back and cried out as the width of him spread her lips taunt. He began to hump, fast and desperate, his gasps hot in her face. Pinned and helpless, she lay beneath him and panted as he took her. The bushes rocked again.

"Aina," he whispered, "I love you. I always . . . loved you." He gritted his teeth and pressed his hips.

Azrian looked down and couldn't believe it: his white semen oozed between the lips of her sex and down his veined erection. He slid himself free, his eyes boring into hers. She looked up at him, her mouth slightly open. She still felt like she couldn't move. Her lips tried to form words . . . but he disappeared.

Azrian lay there, the hot blood oozing over her face. Darkness closed around the edges of her vision. She lifted a lazy paw and tried to get up. Her head wobbled and her paw dropped on her belly. Her sex was burning where the spirit had taken her, her thighs felt bruised from his weight. She could hear footsteps crunching through the leaves and called weakly for Meba. The word was dry and cracked in her mouth. She coughed and coughed up blood.

"M-Me . . . Meba?"

"Who's Meba?" squeaked a voice.

Azrian blinked and a small face appeared, hovering over her. It was the face of a little boy. A little red fox boy. He smiled. For some reason, he had a bloody wound in his chest, belly, and face. It should have been disturbing, but it wasn't. His eyes glowed like flames. But these flames were not the red of fire but the white of the sun. Another spirit. And a benevolent one.

"My name's Zalelew, silly," the boy said. "And you're Azrian, the queen of the world."

"N-Nice . . ." Azrian coughed more blood. "Nice to meet you." She was going to die. She could feel it. Perhaps her skull was cracked. It certainly felt cracked. She looked at the little boy again, who was pealing in two. "If . . . you take me to the stones . . . I can regenerate."

The boy's eyes twinkled. "I know. But I'm too little to carry you. I'll go get help."

"N-No!" Azrian sputtered. She didn't want to die alone.

But the boy turned and ran, and with a flash of his tail, he scattered into light.

Azrian weakly reached for him, but darkness took her, and she slipped away.