FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

The First Sin

Chapter 5

Before they departed that morning, Darla gave Daphne and Artesda a knapsack with supplies. Daphne was grateful, as it was more than the nuns had done back at the abbey. When she thought about it, Mother Vivica hadn't even given them a slice of _cheese._But in hindsight, she was glad the abbey hadn't shared any food with them, as the nuns only seemed to eat grain. Maybe they thought it didn't matter how well Daphne ate, as she was going to Heaven anyway, where it was rumored the horses ate golden apples and drank wine that tasted like ecstasy.

Daphne was further pleased and surprised when the blacksmith asked with sincerity that she take care of herself. "And take care of your angel, eh?" Darla added, jerking her head at Artesda, who stood nearby, his paw on his sword hilt as he ignored the stares of the gathering crowds.

"I will," Daphne answered Darla. She hesitated and smiled at the blacksmith. "And . . . thanks, Darla."

The blacksmith nodded, her pretty eyes warm.

In the early hours of the morning, horses were leaving their homes to start work and chores, but instead of going about their business, many stopped to gawk at Artesda, who stood, towering and glowing white, in the soft shimmer of the dawn. Artesda paid them no mind, instead peering steadily down the road. It seemed to Daphne that he'd been ignoring the world around him all morning. He barely looked at Daphne and Darla throughout breakfast, barely spoke, and seemed grimly determined to focus on the task ahead.

Daphne knew Artesda was trying to forget what had happened between them the night before, that he was ashamed, but she couldn't stop thinking of it. Sometimes she thought of him thrusting deep inside, his paws on her breasts, his hard body against her . . . and she shivered. She wanted that, the heat of him, the smell of him. Sometimes she wondered what he tasted like. He didn't seem to realize it, but watching him masturbate with his muscular body so tense and flushed had been incredibly erotic for her. She wanted Artesda. And unlike her angel, she did not feel guilty or ashamed of her desires.

After saying their farewells to the blacksmith, Daphne and Artesda set off, and Daphne was surprised when Artesda led her into the forest again, instead of taking the road. She cautioned him that the forest was full of bandits, but the angel seemed unconcerned and explained to her that cutting through the forest would be quicker.

"But staying on the road would be safer," Daphne insisted. "I know bandits are on the road too, but other travelers would be there as well. There's safety in numbers."

"Is there?" Artesda said quietly, and because she knew he was thinking of his fallen brothers, she didn't push him anymore.

Eventually, they crossed out of the forest and started down the road, and Daphne smiled to herself, knowing that Artesda had decided to take the road to please her. Here, miles of farmland stretched away either side of them, fields like a bright and colorful patchwork quilt under the azure sky. Daphne could see the distant shapes of farmhouses, could see cornfields spreading away to the horizon, could hear the occasional mooing of a cow. The small silhouette of a farmer - a tall and muscular stallion - could be seen slowly pulling a plow.

"How are we getting to Heaven," Daphne wondered, "if you can't . . .?" She glanced at Artesda's back and didn't think she could bring herself to say the word "fly." There was a sad stump where his wing used to be, twisted and feebly curled. She noticed new feathers sprouting from it and remembered what the nun had said about Artesda one day growing the lost wing back. He would grow it back, but not fast enough to fly her to Heaven.

"In ancient times, when mortals were young," Artesda answered quietly as he walked slowly and evenly at Daphne's side, "there were no angels, and thus, there was no one to carry mortals to Heaven. Lord Father looked upon the mortal realm and saw that the mares there were young and beautiful, so he commanded that mortals should build a tower. 'Build it so tall, it will reach the clouds,' he commanded. When the tower was complete, the mares climbed it willingly and entered Heaven . . . and knew the pleasures there." Artesda blinked and was silent.

Daphne made a face. "But that meant anyone could just walk right into Heaven anytime they wanted!"

"And that is what happened," said Artesda with a nod. "It is known in Heaven as the First Sin. After the mares ascended, stories soon spread of golden apples that granted eternal life. Mortals began to resent the Heavenly Father for taking their most beautiful mares, while others resented the mares themselves that they alone were allowed to enter Heaven. When first they had feared entering, now mortals entered Heaven's gates bravely and sought to take my father's realm of light by force. Heavenly Father fought the intruders and they perished, but he was injured as well. As he retreated to heal, a god came from another kingdom and attempted to enslave all those living in Oltru."

"Wait . . ." said Daphne slowly. "I know this. This is The Song of Alexander, the first angel."

Artesda smiled. "You know your history."

"No," said Daphne with a laugh. "I never went to school. Learning's for wealthy folk. I heard the story in church once, back when I used to go with the neighbors. . . . Da would never take me."

Artesda frowned. "You stopped paying reverence to my Heavenly Father?"

"Well . . . yeah. Church is boring," Daphne said with a laugh. "I wasn't even certain Araton existed."

"Yet you remembered The Song of Alexander," Artesda pointed out, looking very amused. "You must find angels interesting, at least."

". . . I do," Daphne muttered.

Artesda frowned slightly when he realized she was talking about him. "Alexander was the first son of Araton," he said to change the subject, "and the mightiest angel there ever was," he added with narrow-eyed admiration. "He drove out the dark god Araini and his demons, and he protected Oltru until Araton had healed anew."

"All by himself?" Daphne said skeptically.

"He was the mightiest angel," Artesda repeated, as if repeating known fact. "After the war, the horses of Oltru paid my father tribute every one hundred years, that he might create more warrior angels and build an army to protect them --"

"And I'm the newest tribute," Daphne muttered unhappily.

Hearing the sad tone in Daphne's voice, Artesda glanced at her sympathetically. "It is a great honor," he said gently, "to give up hearth and home and become the eternal bride of my father. You will live in paradise forever, knowing his touch . . . Most mortals would say there was nothing more exquisite."

"I am not most mortals," Daphne answered darkly. She was surprised when Artesda looked at her fondly and said, "I know."

Catching himself staring at Daphne absently, Artesda looked away. Daphne's lashes fluttered, but her eyes turned back to the road ahead and she smiled to herself.

"So we have to go to the tower," Daphne realized.

"Yes," Artesda confirmed.

"But it was destroyed after the First Sin," Daphne pointed out. "Destroyed by Alexander, in fact."

"The ruins remain, and the stair was restored. My father, in his infinite wisdom, had the tower preserved for the sake of his injured sons . . . who could not fly home." Artesda blinked sadly and the stump on his back twitched. "He also placed guardians there to bar those who would enter Heaven by it. It is completely safe."

"Of course," Daphne muttered, trying not to roll her eyes at "infinite wisdom."

"It is the only way to Heaven's gates by hoof. I'm afraid we have no other path."

"But that's so far," Daphne realized.

Daphne remembered the tower was known as the Tower of Calantha, Calantha being the mother of Alexander and the first mare to ascend to Heaven and to bridehood. It stood on the opposite end of the kingdom, in deep and mysterious forests that were riddled with ancient ruins. How would they ever make it across the kingdom through armies of pursuing demons?

"Don't be afraid," Artesda assured Daphne. "I am with you. I will never leave your side."

Somehow, hearing Artesda's words made Daphne feel better - not because she believed him, but because he seemed to care so much. "What's the Lord Above like?" she asked. "I might be more prepared for this if I knew anything about him." Her lips twisted in a half-smile. "Does he look like you?"

"I have never seen him," Artesda answered serenely.

Daphne stared up at him in amazement. "What?"

"I have never seen him," the angel repeated, as if he thought she hadn't heard.

Daphne shook her head. "No, I mean . . . How can you be so certain he exists if you've never . . .?"

Artesda frowned. "I do not need to see my father to know he is real. He speaks to us with a mighty voice that echoes through the sky --"

"That must be annoying," Daphne muttered.

"My mother has seen him and has known his arms. I exist because she has known him. I exist. . . .That is enough evidence."

Daphne wanted to disagree - no, it wasn't enough evidence at all! -- but she realized she would be telling Artesda that his own father wasn't real, that everything he knew was a lie. And like Artesda, she didn't really have proof of her beliefs. So she didn't argue.

When night had fallen, they came to a farm, where a small family of five lived. The family introduced themselves as the Wilsons; a wife, a husband, and three little colts who welcomed them warmly to supper. The children couldn't stop gawking with large eyes at Artesda. The eldest son wanted to see the angels' sword, and when Artesda calmly drew it for the children to see, they squealed in delight and pranced around the house. The father laughed, very amused by his children (and slightly drunk, Daphne thought), and the skinny little wife couldn't seem to take her fluttering eyes off Artesda. She was so taken with him, she bumped into several walls and even spilled her milk at supper, much to her husband's irritation.

They were offered the barn for the night, as the husband feared their presence would attract demons and also seemed to hate the way his wife stared - on the point of drooling - at Artesda. Daphne thought he was a bit of a hypocrite, given that she'd caught him staring at her any number of times over super.

"We've gotta boy workin' for us here," said the wife, leading them out to the barn with her lantern. She nearly stumbled and fell, so busy was she staring at Artesda's swelling penis. "Young stallion name o' Thomas. He comes across ya, just make sure ya tell 'im Mrs. Wilson said you was alright."

"Of course," said Daphne politely, trying not to laugh at the older mare's infatuation - and Artesda's obliviousness. "And thank you, Mrs. Wilson."

"No problem, Purest One," said the wife with a nod and turned back toward the house.

When Mrs. Wilson had gone with her lantern, Daphne realized it was too dark to see. She wandered blindly into the barn, tripped over something with a cry, and was startled when Artesda grabbed her elbow. She blinked, and as her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she could see that he was looking down at her. His golden eyes were almost glowing, and she realized he could see in the dark.

"This way, Purest One," the angel said, and still holding Daphne gently by the arm, he guided her up into the hayloft.

Daphne sat on the hay but didn't think she could sleep. She hugged her knees and watched as Artesda sat on the edge of the loft, letting his legs hang down as he drew his sword. His wing rustled behind him before folding tightly against his shoulder. It was so large that it half-obscured him, the white feathers glowing gently in the moonlight.

"Sleep, Purest One," Artesda said, looking down at the stalls below, where cows were already sleeping, curled up with their calves.

"I can't," Daphne said unhappily. "Can you at least tell me what Heaven is like?"

"You would know had you attended church," Artesda answered, a soft admonishment in his voice.

Daphne rolled her eyes. "Now you sound like my ma, rest her soul."

"Rest her soul?" Artesda repeated curiously. "Is her soul at unrest?"

"A figure of speech . . . She died when I was little." Daphne blinked sadly.

"Ah . . . I am sorry," said Artesda, sounding as if he sincerely regretted having intruded.

"It's alright." Daphne smiled. "Da told me she was the prettiest mare in the land, that she would have been taken to Heaven during the Summoning. The king himself had already sought her out."

Artesda gave Daphne a searching look.

"What?"

"There was a mare a few years ago," the angel said slowly. "Twenty mortal years, I believe. She was summoned to Heaven but never made the journey. It is also known that the king of Oltru sought to have her for his bride, and so Heavenly Father allowed her to wed him."

Daphne frowned. "Why would Araton do that?"

Artesda looked away. "The king of Oltru -- the entire bloodline, in fact - is descended from my heavenly father. I suppose he let your mother go for the king's sake. The bloodline of Aramora is beloved of Araton. He would do anything the crystal throne asked." Artesda looked at Daphne sadly. "The mare must've been your mother. She was the only mare in history to ever refuse my father's blessing for the love of a mortal."

"But my mother didn't wind up with the king," Daphne pointed out in confusion, "or else I wouldn't be sitting here!" Artesda gave Daphne such a pitying look, she frowned. ". . . Artesda?"

Artesda looked away.

Sensing she would get no answer from him, Daphne dropped her eyes to her hooves, which were poking from under her robe. "When I was summoned, Da said it was his punishment for Sun Tail." She stared off. "Now I think I understand."

Artesda looked at Daphne curiously, his ear going forward.

"That was my mother's name . . . Sun Tail," Daphne explained in embarrassment. She could hardly remember what her mother had looked like, but she'd suspected for years that her mother was a painted horse.

"Wedding my father is not a punishment," Artesda said softly.

Daphne looked up to find Artesda watching her sympathetically. He was looking at her from the corner of his eye and his head was slightly turned.

"It is to _my_father," Daphne said darkly. She pushed a tired paw back through her mane. "Good night, Artesda," she said tiredly and curled up on her side and closed her eyes.

Daphne didn't know how much time had passed before she felt fingers gently stroking her mane. Her eyes fluttered open, and she went still to find three black creatures squatting around her, clad in golden armor and carrying matching swords. She gasped and made some scrambling attempt to get up, but the male at her side put a gentle paw on her shoulder that calmed her, and the female who'd been stroking her mane frowned and put a finger to her lips. Daphne fell still again, looking cautiously at the strangers who surrounded her. They were sheep, two ewes and one curly-horned ram, all covered in thick black fur, long faces framed by bushy manes of woolly hair, little black wings that were rubbery and bat-like. Daphne they could only assume they were demons, the children of Araini. They were surprisingly small, considering the stories she'd heard.

"What do you want?" Daphne asked hoarsely. She glanced around with sudden fear. "Where's Artesda! What have you done with --!"

"Shh!" begged the ram and glanced nervously over his shoulder. His curled horns gleamed in the moonlight that reached translucent into the barn. "Our siblings are keeping watch for him --"

"Your 'angel' went to take care of business," said the ewe squatting at Daphne's shoulder. She snorted out a laugh. "We didn't hurt him. And the way he was grunting in the bush, he might be gone quite a time." She laughed again.

"We don't want to hurt him, but we might have to," said the ram regretfully. He knelt at Daphne's other shoulder, thighs wide under the golden plates of his skirt. "My siblings and I have come to rescue you --"

"Rescue me?" Daphne repeated in surprise.

The female at Daphne's shoulder scowled. "From Araton the rapist. He would take you against your will, make you his slave - his broodmare."

"You'd spend all eternity foaling wee angels for his army," added the ram darkly. "That's all he wants the mares for. All sons, of course. You don't want to know what happens to the girls."

Daphne's lips parted in disgust as she listened, though somehow, she wasn't the least bit surprised. "Do you have evidence?" she asked anyway and sat up on her elbow. "I mean, you could be lying, and I'm just supposed to go with you?"

The ewe at Daphne's shoulder snorted. "Evidence, she says," she muttered derisively and glanced wearily across Daphne at the ram. She looked at Daphne and said impatiently, "You've been traveling with that buffoon for what? Almost a week now? We've been following all this time, and we've never attacked, have we? Because we were giving you a chance to realize the truth about him, about all of it!" She waved an angry paw, and Daphne imagined the ewe would have angry and derisively gesticulating even if they weren't talking about Araton. She had a sort of fierce look about her that spoke of hot-headedness, and her eyes glinted with a constant disdain. She was wild and beautiful, her woolly hair a mess tumbling down her back, her scent overpowering, and somehow, it made her more appealing than her more docile female companion, who squatted at Daphne's hooves with a sort of serene calm.

"Your angel is little more than a minion to a bloodthirsty god," added the ram with low, gravelly anger. His dark slanted eyes glinted calm outrage, and somehow, his tight-bodied anger made him very appealing to Daphne. He was narrow-eyed and very handsome, all round calves and biceps. His sleeveless chest plate was sculpted with bulging pectorals, though she was fairly certain his actual pectorals were bulging as well. He was as beautiful as his female companions, achingly beautiful. Because he was squatting with his thighs wide apart, the hot musk of him was all-consuming and arousing.

"Araton keeps his sons innocent and ignorant," went on the ram, unaware of Daphne's lusting. "Do you know why? Because if his 'angels' knew anything about sex, they'd rape his fillies with impunity. They are insatiable monsters just like their father! Surely you can't think Araton forcing you to his bed is right?"

Daphne dropped her eyes. No, she didn't think it was right. In fact, the sheep were making every argument she'd already made to Artesda. She had a hard time believing, however, that Artesda would rape her. Artesda was a lot of things, but he had never once posed a threat to her. She said as much and was annoyed when the sheep woefully, disdainfully shook their black, woolly heads.

"The creature restrains himself because he fears punishment, nothing more," sneered the ewe at Daphne's shoulder. "Imagine if there were no consequences? Why, your little _guardian_would hold you down by the neck and have his way with you --"

"No, he wouldn't!" Daphne snapped at once. "Say what you will about Araton - I actually agree with you - but Artesda wouldn't hurt me."

"So you will stay with that --!" began the hot-headed ewe angrily, but the other held up her paw. "_Calm_yourself, Mala. This isn't the way to get through to her," the second ewe said, and the apparent Mala took a shuddering breath and averted her eyes.

The calm ewe at Daphne's hooves looked at Daphne seriously. "After years of assault and endless pregnancies, many Purest Ones flee Heaven," she said unhappily. "Then Araton sends his sons to find them . . . and kill them."

Daphne gasped.

"We rescue the ones who run," added the ram. "Or we try to. Lately we've started focusing more on saving them before they get to Heaven. We've only managed to save a slim few over the centuries."

"Our father seeks to end the appalling practice," spoke up Mala, who was watching Daphne in frustration, her arms folded. "We've been trying to free Oltru from his reign for a thousand years. Problem is," she waved a disgusted paw, "most of the idiot horses enjoy his tyranny. They think he's some god."

"They do not realize our father is not an invader but a liberator," added the ram darkly, and his sisters nodded. "Though it wasn't always this way. What you call 'the First Sin' happened because the horses of Oltru grew weary of Araton's evil and rose against --"

"We don't have time for a history lesson," said Mala impatiently. She glanced nervously beyond the edge of the barn loft, and her pretty eyes darted quickly back to Daphne. "You can come with us and we'll take you to safety, far from Araton's reach. Or you can stay and become a broodmare. The choice is yours."

"I . . . want to go with you," Daphne said uncertainly. She paused. If she ran away with the children of Araini, Artesda would have failed in his duties, and maybe he would suffer harsh punishment in Heaven. But Artesda would not simply allow her to leave peacefully. She could choose to stay and suffer, or she could choose to run, and Artesda would suffer in her stead. Either choice seemed awful. She didn't want Artesda to die for her.

"Don't tell me you'll stay for that featherbrained stallion," began Mala angrily, "after all we just told --" She scowled when the other ewe held up her paw again. "For fuck's sake, Laila! The stupid mare is gonna die unless we do something! Don't tell me to calm down!"

Daphne scowled. As much as she was starting to resent Mala, she could not ignore how appealing she was. Mala was breathtaking, especially when she was angry. The way her eyes fired with every flash of rage . . . Daphne couldn't stop thinking of the pretty ewe's soft, moist sex and how it would taste clenching against her tongue. She would slip her fingers inside and suck Mala's clit until she screamed. Maybe that would wipe the constant sneer from her f--

"Are you _listening_to us?" demanded the ram, who finally seemed to notice Daphne's daydreaming. "Either you come with us now or we leave. We'll never contact you again."

Daphne hesitated.

Mala rolled her eyes. "I guess we came for nothing. Let the idiot die like all the rest," she sneered, though Daphne went still when she noticed the way Mala's eyes passed over her: warm with regret . . . and desire. Mala glanced at her brother. "Come on, Izra. We've wasted enough time here --"

Daphne suddenly sat up, and without warning, slipped her paw up Mala's skirt and inside the tight sheath of her sex. She was pleased when Mala stammered to silence and gaped against the pleasure in blushing surprise. As her shocked siblings watched uncomfortably, the ewe clenched her thighs shut on Daphne's stroking fingers and tried to squirm away.

"Mm, stubborn thing," Daphne hissed and sank her stroking fingers deeper. Mala's lips parted uncertainly as she was pleasured, and the ewe was so baffled, Daphne had to wonder if she'd been fingered before.

"What are you doing!" cried the ram. "You can't --!"

Without hesitating, Daphne reached up the skirt of the ram's golden armor, only to find herself groping him through some sort of fabric. She fumbled it aside to find the smooth, soft skin of his penis. He reached in a sudden panic to stop her but his paws halted when she gave him an experimental squeeze. Her lashes fluttered when he swelled, warm and thick, in her fingers. "W-What --!" he whispered in hoarse shock, but he bit his lip and stammered to silence when Daphne stroked him slowly, deeply, until he was so throbbing hard in her paw that he shuddered and bowed his head.

Daphne looked at Mala again, who was baffled and frowning. She curled her fingers, forcing Mala's hips forward, and sitting up on her elbow, she stuck her face under Mala's skirt and rubbed her nose against the soft, moist sex that clenched there. The heat of it thrilled her, the scent of it made her own sex swell. Her fingers continued their gentle fondling as she let her tongue roll out and softly, carefully slap against Mala's hot lips. Mala's thighs trembled around Daphne's head, as if threatening to snap and catch her. Daphne smiled and closed her eyes, letting her tongue slap gently, relentlessly, lapping up the moisture, caressing the clenching softness that was Mala's sex, until it was heaving and squirming against her face and Mala moaned softly, whispering so only Daphne could hear, "Please, don't stop."

Even as Daphne slowly tasted and licked Mala, she kept stroking Izra, whose penis was heaving and throbbing in her grasp, until it seemed he might release. She wanted him to and found his choked cries of restraint adorable. She wanted the warm moisture of his arousal on her body and suddenly wished she was naked.

As if she'd read Daphne's mind, Laila slowly pushed up Daphne's robes and trailed careful kisses down her body, pausing to suckle the mare's tiny pink nipple until she blushed. She continued her slow teasing, caressing Daphne's rigid nipple in pinching fingers and fondling her tight sex, her gentle lips kissing down and down, over Daphne's belly, which trembled with anticipation, to the curly nest of golden fur that hid her pink sex. Giving Daphne a mischievous glance, Laila slowly licked between her thighs from anus to clit.

Daphne melted. Lips and tongue smacking, Laila tasted her with a sweet abandon that made her gush, while Mala and Izra - eyes glazed with lust -- massaged her sharp breasts as she pleasured them. Locked in a trance of fondling, slurping, sucking, and caressing, the four did not hear the sound of fighting just beneath the hayloft. A second later, and Daphne felt the ram's erection whisked from her hungry paw. She opened her eyes and gasped to see Artesda, bloody and sneering, with his arm locked around the ram and his blade just under the tense ram's chin.

Laila and Mala screamed warcries of rage and scrambled to their hooves. It was clear Artesda had just come from killing their siblings, and now he had their brother in his grasp.

Laila ripped her sword from its scabbard. "Let him go!" she growled, pointing it at Artesda.

"Let Izra go, you monster!" added Mala, wild-haired and sneering as she pulled her own glinting blade.

Artesda's eyes widened in disbelief. "I am the monster, yet you would sully the Purest One!" He tightened the muscly arm that held Izra in place, and everyone tensed when the blade nicked and drew blood. Izra, glaring and angry and looking so small in Artesda's grasp, kept very still, his thick woolly mane rising against Artesda's sneer.

"They weren't sullying me!" Daphne cried in exasperation, and hearing her protests, Artesda looked at her in shock. She sat up, scrambling to pull her robe down over shivering breasts. The sight of her soft, naked body - blushing and covered in fluids - only seemed to infuriate Artesda further, who tensed as if he might snap Izra's neck and toss him away. Before he could move, however, Mala lunged forward with a warcry, blade lifted high, and Artesda was forced to release Izra to block her blow.

Eyes glinting murder, Laila joined in, and the sisters came at Artesda with wild fury. Together, they drove him with grim determination toward the edge of the hayloft, as if to make the wingless angel fall. Artesda, just as grimly determined, blocked their every attack with his gleaming sword, his eyes sparking coldly, his great body flexing with every growling swing. The ewes rose up on their bat-like wings, and they were like irritating nats around him, jabbing him and slicing him, until his blood spattered the walls. He likewise gave them blow for blow, even backhanding them and punching them down, but they always sprang back up, furiously determined to end him.

As the others were fighting, a bloody and gasping Izra fell to the hay on his face and didn't move. Believing the ram was dead, Daphne scrambled toward him in a horrified panic, and glimpsing her background movements, Artesda viciously cut Laila and Mala down and lunged Daphne's way. The choked screams of the ewes made Daphne look up, and she screamed, aghast, to find Artesda - cold, menacing, and terrifying as she'd never seen him -- bringing his sword down on Izra.

Without thinking, Daphne threw herself over Izra and squeezed her eyes shut, waiting for Artesda's blow to come. It never came.

There was a long pause, and in the silence, Daphne could hear panting and gasping, wheezing and choking. She opened her eyes. Artesda was standing over her, baffled, his sword at his side. Behind him, Laila was helping Mala up. Mala had taken a nasty cut to the face, and one of her eyes was a bloody mass.

"Purest One?" Artesda said in confusion. "Why do you protect that creature? He is a demon and has sullied you --"

"I wanted to touch his dick!" Daphne snapped and was very satisfied when Artesda's white cheeks blushed furiously. "I wanted to touch them and kiss them and know them, because I'm not afraid of my feelings like you! I'm not afraid of Araton!" she shouted breathlessly. Her thin arms hugged Izra's limp body tighter, and they were shivering as her furious eyes went from face to face. "Drop your swords --!"

Artesda frowned. "Purest One --"

"I said drop them! All of you!" Daphne shouted.

Laila and Mala glanced at each other in confusion, then glared warily at Artesda's broad back. Artesda swallowed bitterly, and for several seconds, Daphne thought he might shove her aside and run Izra through anyway. But he dropped his sword, letting it fall to the hay with a soft clatter. Behind him, the ewes did the same.

Convinced the fighting had really ceased, Daphne sat up - and screamed softly when Artesda shoved her aside and grabbed Izra by the mane. He dragged the moaning ram to his hooves and locked his arm around his throat yet again, placing a paw on the back of his woolly mane, as if he would snap his neck.

"No!" Mala growled in wide-eyed horror. She darted a glare at Daphne. "See? Never trust a son of Araton!"

Laila's eyes were fixed in trepidation on Izra, who stood angry and tense in Artesda's grasp. "Give us our brother," she said in a voice that trembled. Her frightened black eyes snapped on Artesda. "Please."

"Artesda . . ." Daphne slowly got to her hooves. "Let him go!" She put a shocked paw to her mouth to see the violent sneer that twisted Artesda's usually serene face.

"You would dare," said Artesda through his teeth, his nostrils flaring, his eyes glittering rage as they burned a hole through Laila and Mala, "to sully the purest of mares? You will be punished, demons - all of you."

Izra choked softly in Artesda's grasp. Artesda was already applying pressure, slowly breaking the ram's neck. Izra seemed coldly determined to ignore the pain, but Daphne could see the agony in his eyes as he struggled to muffle his own cries.

"Let him go, for god's sake!" Daphne suddenly wailed.

Artesda looked at Daphne guiltily. Her teary-eyed shock seemed to give him pause. He frowned. "Purest One . . . He has offended you . . . He has touched you, violated your purity with --"

Daphne took a halting step forward. "I said let him go!"

Artesda hesitated, looking as if he would rather snap Izra's head off. He loosened his grip but did not release the ram. "The Purest One has spoken," he said, looking at Laila and Mala, who were glaring breathless hatred at him. "Leave and be grateful that she is far more compassionate and wise than I."

"Give us our brother!" Mala practically screamed, her eyes wild.

Izra made a sudden move to lunge away and choked when Artesda grabbed a fistful of his curly mane, yanking him back. Everyone tensed as the ram was locked yet again in Artesda's terrifying grasp. "The demon stays with me," he said coldly. "His captivity will ensure you do not return. Keep your distance, and I will not harm him. Come near again, and I will end him."

"You son of a --!" began Mala furiously, but Laila put a paw on her shoulder.

"You swear on your _father_you will not harm him?" Laila demanded.

Artesda looked her in the eye. "I swear."

Mala gaped incredulously when Laila nodded. Laila's frightened eyes glanced a last time at her miserable brother, whose eyes silently encouraged her to go while she had her life.

"We can't just leave --!" Mala began angrily.

"Go on," said Izra hoarsely. He gave a trembling smile for his sister's benefit. "I'll be f-fine." Behind him, Artesda was hard-faced and grim.

Mala glared at Artesda. "This isn't over. We'll be back! And you better hope to your god he's still alive!"

Laila and Mala coldly and stiffly gathered their swords from the hay, then turned their backs, spread their black wings, and swept from the hayloft, speeding out a hole in the barn's roof.

The second the sisters were gone, Daphne reached up and slapped Artesda hard across the face - so hard, her nails left ribbons of blood. The angel staggered back, looking at her in confusion. Izra, still held in his grasp, smirked in amusement.

"Why do you _strike_me?" Artesda asked, sadly touching his cut cheek.

Daphne angrily turned away, fumbling to tie her rope belt in place with shaking paws. She tried desperately not to look at all the blood. Artesda was covered in it, and if she let her eye wander over the edge of the hayloft, she could see the bodies of the sheep, the children of Araini he'd slaughtered without pausing.

Daphne had to remind herself that to Artesda, the children of Araini were evil. He didn't understand and seemed to believe they'd been assaulting her. She could hear him moving around the hayloft, and when she glanced at him again, he was binding Izra's paws with rope and sadly watching her from the corner of his eye as he worked. He even tied a piece of frayed rope back in the ram's mouth to silence them. Then, to her horror, he took his sword from the hay and coldly, methodically sliced off one of Izra's black wings. Izra tensed as it was happening; his nostrils flared angrily but he was otherwise cold. Daphne screamed softly as blood splattered the air again, and then the ram's wing was twitching on the floor.

"Artesda --!" Daphne began in shock.

"We can not risk him escaping," Artesda said grimly. "Come, Purest One. The road awaits." So saying, he easily slung little Izra over his shoulder and carried him down from hayloft.

Daphne glanced at the hole in the roof. The sun was indeed rising. She climbed down from the hayloft in Artesda's wake, and as they were walking from the barn, he glanced at her guiltily.

"I know it is too much for your gentle heart," Artesda said apologetically. "Forgive me, Purest One. Bloodshed is the path ahead of us, I fear."

"It's alright," Daphne muttered hoarsely, though it wasn't alright at all. "You thought they were hurting me."

Artesda frowned. "They _were_hurting you. What they did was a violation --"

"No, it wasn't," Daphne said impatiently. "For the last time, I wanted them to!"

Artesda looked at her sadly, and she thought he looked a little frustrated as well, as if he was trying to get something across to her and she was too dense to understand it. "You can not want such things," he said gently. "You belong to my father." He looked away. "Whether you want to or not. All of Oltru and its creatures belong to him."

Daphne bit her tongue in frustration. She wanted to argue but knew there was no point. Izra, who was slung over Artesda's shoulder, caught her eye and gave her a pointed look that might as well have said, "Told you."

"I know I am guilty of sin as well," Artesda said in the same apologetic voice. "Touching myself in your presence was no better than a demon's violation. If you should request my life when this journey is over, I would give it gladly --"

Daphne rolled her eyes. "Shut up, Artesda," she said wearily.

"Yes, Purest One," Artesda said quietly, and Daphne was amazed when he did indeed shut up.

As they were leaving the barn, they stepped into the sunlight only to find a skinny young stallion standing there, clutching a lantern with shaking paws and staring in shock at the bodies that lay bloody and staring in the morning light. Many had broken necks, twisted faces and snapped limbs. Daphne saw Izra tense as he glanced with wet-eyed anger at the bodies.

The young stallion, apparently having witnessed the massacre, gawked at Daphne and Artesda as they emerged from the barn. When they had passed him, his eyes rolled back and he slumped to the ground in a dead faint.

"Thomas, I presume," muttered Daphne sympathetically. Artesda didn't answer, and she realized he was staying quiet because she'd told him to. "You . . . you don't have to be quiet, you know," she said guilty. "I'm sorry I slapped you." She laughed sadly. "You don't even understand why, do you?"

"You were frightened and confused," Artesda said at once. "You have probably never seen bloodshed of any kind. It is only natural that you would express your fear in some way, however irrational."

Daphne held back an exasperated sigh.

They walked in silence down the road for a while, side by side, and Artesda easily held Izra on his shoulder, locked in his strong arm. The plates of Izra's skirt fell aside, revealing what looked like red panties clinging tight to his hard backside. Daphne remembered groping him through that fabric before finally fumbling him out. She could see his penis was still hanging out of it, soft now and lying quietly against Artesda's shoulder. The delicious smell of it was maddening, though Artesda didn't seem to notice or care. Izra caught Daphne's eye as she was looking at him. His black eyes blazed indignantly, and she guiltily looked away.

"You mustn't let the demon tempt you," Artesda said, taking notice of Daphne's embarrassment. "They will seduce you. Mortals are especially vulnerable."

Daphne rolled her eyes. Izra wasn't "seducing" her. If anything, she had seduced him. She kept thinking of his erection so thick and hot in her grasp and how baffled and shocked he was by the pleasure of it all. She wondered what he would feel like inside her, but at the same time, she knew Izra had no interest in being little more than a piece of meat to her. He was offended by her lusting and staring. It made her feel predatory and guilty for her behavior_._ Without even pausing to consider his feelings, she had simply groped him. She had often criticized Araton for his predatory nature, but was she no better than him? She glanced apologetically at Izra, who noticed the sadness in her gaze and blinked in surprise.

"Are you listening, Purest One?" Artesda said uncertainly, breaking through Daphne's thoughts. "You must take heed. The demon will play tricks with your mind, make you think you want sex with him when --"

"Except the part where I _do_want sex," Daphne said irritably.

"It doesn't matter what we want," Artesda said solemnly.

"No, just what the Lord Above wants," Daphne returned sarcastically.

Artesda smiled in approval. "Now you begin to understand."

Daphne blinked furiously, trying to hold back a wail of frustration.