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Tsarin didn't trust the kindness offered to him in the invitation from the lion tribe, but like every other tribe in the valley, he was skeptical of what the lions were really up to in their home near the plains.

The snow leopards lived near the bench of the mountains, and made their home in the coolest part of the plains that they could find. When winter came, they had no trouble defending their homeland: treacherous crags and uneven terrain made it tough for anyone else to even attempt to climb the mountains, and what wasn't killed by the rocks was frozen by the snow.

In such a way, Tsarin was more than happy to keep up the uneasy truce that the tribes all shared with each other, but the recent uptick of squabbles among the tribes made it clear that it was time for a change.

For his diplomatic ways and kindly nature, Tsarin was the one picked by his elders to go and accept the invitation of the lions: they offered a challenge to the snow leopards and their highland tribe. If they didn't accept it, there would be pressure from the other feline tribes to mount an assault on the mighty lions, but if they did, there would be untold dangers waiting for the emissary when they arrived in hostile territories.

In their message, the lions claimed that they saw things the same way as the snow leopards. The parchment clearly read that they felt it was time for all of the feline tribes of the valley to put their differences aside, but without the two greatest tribes working together, there was little sense of order to keep everything from descending into chaos.

Tsarin wasn't sure that he trusted the lions anymore than the elders did, but this was the first time they'd offered a sign of peace...and usually, their interactions were to terrorize the smaller outposts of the other tribes from the backs of their dragons.

"No boat?" Sal asked. The feline tribes valued the more primal sounds of grunts and growls to actual speaking, but there were some things that simply couldn't be expressed or explained without a few, simple words.

Tsarin shook his head. "On foot," he replied. Though it was a long journey from the source of the river and the foothills, he didn't feel it safe to use the river canoes to make the trip.

As far as he was concerned, they would take as little as they could, arrive with nothing if possible, and give the lions no extra incentive to keep them as guests any longer than necessary; a boat or food to steal from them would only prove to be a hinderance on a mission of peace.

"Mmm. Be safe," the head elder offered them a very brief blessing, bowing his head to Tsarin and Sal as they stood before him. It was rare from the leaders of any tribe to offer even the slightest hint of a bow to anyone else, and in that gesture, he conveyed just how important their task really was.

Tsarin leaned forth and nodded in return, and Sal, overcome with the gravity of it all, nearly fell over at the hip.

**

The tales passed down between the generations of each of the feline tribes told of a world that wasn't torn asunder by the constant squabbling of smaller tribes. The back-and-forth combat was rarely lethal, but it was frustrating that the tribes that once worked together in harmony were beginning to experience such strife that peacekeeping missions were a reality.

According to those old legends, the feline tribes were once completely homogenous: snow leopards only lived with other snow leopards, but for his entire life, Tsarin remembered a host of different cats living in the village, and that made no mention of his friend, Sal.

He wasn't even a feline to begin with, but his presence in the tribe was nothing of great note. He was born into the village and lived there his entire life, without consequence or reason for pause.

What had been lost to the annals of time was exactly when the feline tribes began allowing integration of their different species, and at what point the feline valley had opened up to so many outsiders. It was unfortunate that the outsiders often took the blame of the feline purists for causing the uproars and squabbles that plagued the valley, but in his experience, Tsarin had never seen that to be true.

He simply observed those violent interactions to be the nature of big, arrogant personalities as they clashed in a quickly shrinking space.

"Much further?" Sal asked, walking as close to Tsarin as he could without literally stepping on the snow leopard's toes. "To the lions?"

"Few days," Tsarin murmured. He didn't remember the trip taking such a long time on foot, but the host of smaller villages that had popped up in the last few decades slowed the progress of the journey, as far as he was concerned.

A rapidly growing population, desperate citizens and clashing cultures were sure to create a powder keg of different issues to be solved, but the valley was governed by a loose network of felines and their elders, meaning there was no central method of creating laws, keeping order, or making equal trades across the river.

What could be considered a slap on the wrist in one village might be a death sentence in another, and only the two tribes with the longest, richest history were ready to step up and try to do anything about it.

To think a time would come when I'd ally with lions, Tsarin thought. Even as he and Sal reached the far edges of the plains and saw the first of the small, wooden huts that signified the edge of the lion's territory, he hadn't been able to swallow his pride enough to think that anything fruitful would come of this meeting.

There was no deeper history between the lions and the snow leopards that would inspire Tsarin to think less of them. He didn't think they were incapable of growth, but for only being a day's walk away from each other in the river valley, they lived such a different life that it was hard to believe they were felines.

Much as he wondered about what they could have in common, he worried about Sal, and how the rabbit would blend in with the others. He was used to living in the snow leopard village, and he'd seen a few lions here and there, but they didn't take kindly to the cooler temperatures at the foothills of the mountains.

This caused them to have a rather gruff and expeditious nature whenever they were in the village, and left a sour taste in Sal's mouth whenever he thought about them.

To be literally surrounded by long, twisting rows of their huts left the rabbit understandably nervous, but Tsarin kept a thick, comforting arm around his shoulder as they walked.

When it came right down to it, Sal was standing with perhaps the greatest champion that the snow leopards could offer, and as Tsarin would be glad to remind the lapine...he was more than capable of taking care of himself when things got rough.

The pair were quietly hoping that they wouldn't have to put their combat skills to work anytime soon, but they were clearly ready to fight when, a few days later, Tsarin was finally approached by a younger, smaller member of the lion tribes.

He was just barely of an adult age, and he was put off by how tall Tsarin stood over him, but he could see the official document in his paws. "Messenger?" he asked simply, doing his best to appear brave and confident in the face of an outsider that easily could have dropped him where he stood.

Tsarin nodded silently.

"Follow me," he said. He was hesitant to turn his back on the pair, but there was pride in everything that the lions did, down to the very smallest job: that included being an escort for honored guests, and in truth, that was what Tsarin and Sal were to the elders.

Their message didn't explicitly state that, however, leaving them to stay high strung until they approached a large, round hut in the obvious middle of the lion village. Just staring at it, Tsarin guessed that it would be able to sleep a dozen bodies comfortably, and as many as twenty in a pinch...but he assumed that there would only be one or two people waiting for them inside.

Before they stepped through the front flap of the leather exterior, he gave Sal a quick nudge. "Quiet," he whispered, knowing that the rabbit would understand the diplomatic nature of this meeting. "Respectful."

Sal nodded and followed Tsarin inside, staying as close as the physical gap between their bodies would allow: he was practically hugging the snow leopard's leg when the heavy, sow-skin flap closed behind them.

Oil lamps burned on a small table in the middle of the hut, and behind it, five villagers sat side by side, staring up at Tsarin as he entered. Not wanting to impose superiority, he immediately dropped to his knees and made sure that Sal went down with him, before bowing to the lions before him and offering the letter.

That piece of parchment alone was proof that Tsarin and Sal came in peace, and their rapid acceptance of a submissive pose made it clear that they meant no harm, or unintentional disrespect.

They couldn't know how the lions would react, but as Tsarin kept an arm around Sal, the pair stayed silent and looked up, waiting for the judgment of the small council of lions that had gathered.

"With peace," the lion in the middle of the table replied, "We welcome you."

Even though the message of the entire message was supposed to be peace in the first place, those intentions were meaningless to Tsarin until he heard them confirmed by members of the tribe itself.

To his surprise, however, he saw that there was a trio of elders sitting even further back in deeply sunk, comfortable chairs of wood and hay. The men sitting before them were young and spry, but each of them carried a certain wisdom in their eyes, making it clear that they were a good fit for the job that they'd been assigned.

"Thank you," Tsarin replied. He nodded and bowed his head slightly lower, wanting to make sure that he showed his appreciation for their welcome in the only way that he was currently able.

He wanted to ask them what the purpose of their visit was, but he was still more used to the non-verbal communication that the majority of snow leopards preferred, and he didn't want to misspeak and throw the entire mission out the window.

More simply, he gestured to the letter that he'd given to them. "Challenge?" he asked, knowing that they would understand his confusion.

In the letter, it was detailed that the lions would only consider their alliance with the snow leopard village complete when a champion of their choosing was sent to complete a set of tasks, proving his worth to the lions and providing a show of good faith; it was supposed to be an exercise in trust, and when Tsarin was finished, the lions would send an emissary of their own to the snow leopards to complete an equal task.

There were no details of what the challenge might be, but it was clear on the parchment that a champion be sent for this task, and there none better suited for a fight than the impressive specimen that was Tsarin. Sal might not have looked it, but he, too, would be able to stand side-by-side with his feline companion in whatever they were asked to do.

"Many challenges," the center lion replied. "For both of you."

Tsarin immediately put an arm in front of Sal, but the combined council stared him down, making it clear that when Sal chose to make the pilgrimage along with Tsarin, he accepted equal responsibility in the trials ahead.

Clenching the paw of his partner to his chest and smiling as bravely as he could, Sal looked up at Tsarin and gave a firm nod.

Accepting their tenacity, the lions handed both Tsarin and Sal a scroll to look over, and this time, there were no words to read. Instead, the pages were decorated with elaborate looking dances, detailing multiple bodies working in a sense of unison that looked chaotic on the surface...but at the center of each dance was a union that was impossible to ignore.

Tsarin picked up on what it was first, and he gulped, realizing what kind of task they'd offered themselves up for.

There was no longer an option to accept or decline the offer from the lions. The hut that the outsiders had entered would be the stage for the trials, and all four of the lions at the table would somehow be involved when it came down to administering the tests...not to mention the equine that was seated with them.

Flexibility, endurance, determination and confidence were all necessary for societal change, but there was another exchange wherein all of those qualities would prove not just useful, but essential.

The lion at the head of the table stood up, but he left his loincloth in the dirt as he stood before his guests, leaving nothing to the imagination and refusing to hide behind even the slightest bit of cloth or armor.

"Simba," he told them, patting his own chest. He was nearly as tall as Tsarin, and what he lacked in a couple of inches of height, he'd gained in the length of his member...but that was drawing the attention of his visitors less than the musculature that defied his coat of fur and rose to the surface, showing the body of a powerful, experienced hunter, combined with the blessing of virile youth.

Tsarin waited for the chief of the lions to stand up fully before he pulled himself up to his own feet and dropped the neckerchief and small cloth from his waist, standing in the same naked respect as the chief had shown him.

"Tsarin," he introduced himself. They shared a gaze that was one of mutual respect, but there was still an uneasy air in the hut, and both men knew that the only thing they could do to clear it was to move on with the trials they'd been offered.

Sal was a bit more hesitant to move, but seeing his larger companion take the initiative, he allowed the scant clothing on his body to drop into the dirt. His palm came to his bare chest with much less force, but there was more grace in his smile as he nodded and spoke his name.

Simba nodded to him, impressed to see that a small, timid rabbit would be able to find the courage to speak in the company of lions. His nod in that direction was a gesture that Sal couldn't fully appreciate the gravity of, but seeing it offered him a brief moment of relief.

It was the only calm he'd know before a long and terrible storm.

"Begin."

Such a quick, quiet word shouldn't have been enough to give the pack such action, but that was all it took for everyone on the other side of the table to stand up from their positions. Their bodies were primed for the moment even before Tsarin and Sal arrived, but it was hard to know how well prepared they were until the snow leopard and his companion were staring into a row of full, throbbing cocks, each one dripping and ready to be serviced.

Leading his people in every sense of the word, Simba was still the one to step around the table first, putting Tsarin's newly offered loyalty to the test in a way that would be tough for someone with any sense of pride.

He came to stand in front of Tsarin with a paw around his own cock, holding the shaft steady as it throbbed in the snow leopard's face. Precum was already dribbling down from the tip, giving evidence to the legends that spoke of his impressive volume...but the mess wouldn't stop if Tsarin merely knelt there.

Swallowing his pride and proving that he was indeed a peaceful messenger, Tsarin leaned forward and pressed his lips to the tip of the feline member before him, allowing his muzzle to kiss against the end of it before he opened up at all. He knew that Simba would establish a greater sense of dominance before all was said and done, but he didn't expect to feel a paw on the back of his head so readily.

Having his mouth immediately stuffed, there was no way for Tsarin to offer any encouragement to Sal, who was quickly surrounded with bodies that dwarfed his smaller, slimmer form.

"M...Mercy?"

He was met with a pair of shaking heads from two of the younger lions. As Tsarin became familiar with the long, narrow stripe of red that danced down the front of Simba's torso, Sal did his best to drink in the sight of a cock dropping right in front of his face, obscuring the wielder of it from his view.

The warm, pulsing length sat across the bridge of his muzzle with lewd gravity as paws came to rest on his shoulders, and much to his surprise, there was a comforting rub against his tense, nervous muscles.

"No."

The words were in conflict with the actions, but the lion behind Sal knew that the rabbit wasn't any kind of a threat. The pair of fighters, Terryn and Tielo, silently decided that they would take their turn with the rabbit before trying Tsarin on for size; Sal was little more than a warmup in their eyes, but they didn't know Sal as well as his traveling partner.

The bun was small, but he was spry and skillful in combat: he would have been a great fit for the warriors if they'd been interested in a sparring session, but Sal knew better than to have such hopeful thoughts.

All that kept his nerves at bay was the sight out Tsarin, out of the corner of his eye. He could see the larger beast taking Simba's cock with impressive ease for the size of it, and beyond that, there was little motion or struggle in the snow leopard, showing off a dignified sense of decorum and obedience that was hard to maintain in the middle of an orgy.

Wanting to do right by his friend more than anyone else, Sal did his best to relax and stay calm as a Tielo's bulging length dropped from the bridge of his nose and rubbed into the fluff of his cheek. His kneeling pose was pushed over from behind; Terryn wasn't going to show the same kind of patience that his rival did, but he wouldn't completely interrupt the fun, either.

He wanted to see what Tielo would attempt.

The strongest warrior in the tribe, Tielo didn't use any magic, but there was a hint of flair in his approach as he stroked the warm, golden tufts of fur across his chest, drawing Sal's attention up to the depths of his eyes. He wanted to stare the lithe creature down as they worked together, wondering just how much a rabbit would be able to orally take before he was forced to gag for air.

With Tsarin's member as a gauge, Sal wasn't sure that he'd seen anything impossible just yet, but he was already wondering how sore his jaw would be, even before Tielo pried his muzzle apart and slipped his cock through the side of the rabbit's open maw.

That there was no struggle about it was already a welcome surprise, but the way that Sal stood his ground and refused to be tossed around like a ragdoll was rapidly earning the trust of the warriors that had claimed him.

Simba wasn't so easily impressed, and his stare continued to judge Tsarin for his every move, but the chief was benevolent and generous: he wasn't going to hog the snow leopard all to himself.

Flanked on one side by the potions master of the tribe and the lore master on the other side, Tsarin found himself the center of some _extremely_high-profile attention, but he was determined to prove that he was up to the task, no matter what was asked of him.

His paws reached up as an offering, but he didn't move them forward until Jace and Ruvus took his wrists and placed his digits exactly where they wanted.

The unique shape of the potions master continued to be a pleasant surprise: Jace was a horse, unlike the rest of the council...but he'd earned his place through his wisdom alone, and found himself a respected member of the tribe despite his different species. His length nearly rivaled that of the chief, and the texture of the flesh was smooth, almost to the point of being slick.

On the other side, Ruvus was gifted with a fairly typical cock for a lion, but like the other members of the council, his was far larger than average, and just feeling the size and weight of it in his paws reminded Tsarin of how their gifts could be cause for concern later on.

His body, much as he tried to prepare it, would never be ready to handle so many larger creatures at once.

"Kind," Jace complimented Tsarin. He could see the natural strength, oozing from the snow leopard's form; he knew that Tsarin could have come in and tried another way to prove his peaceful nature, and that it would have been a truly bloody altercation if such action had been taken.

That they were finding such a civil middle ground to meet upon was just what the elders of Tsarin's village had hoped for, but he never would have guessed that this was the method the lions would use to extend and olive branch.

"Skilled," Simba murmured, thinking it the better word to describe Tsarin when the feline was taking inch after inch of his cock in a slow gain. He managed not to gag as he neared the halfway point of a simply impressive length, but the chief of the lions was going to make it his mission to push Tsarin to his absolute limits before the trial was over.

With the end of the trial literally coming at his discretion, it wasn't a matter of whether or not Tsarin was up to the task alone, but just how far he and Sal could go toward outlasting the impressive pride that they'd been welcomed in by.

Tsarin was holding up well, for being faced with three long, full cocks to navigate, but he was glad to catch a glimpse of Sal from the corner of his eye, seeing that the rabbit was handling his mouthful admirably.

Arousing as it was to see, only Tielo could attest to how amazing it felt to spread Sal's maw wide apart around the tip of his drooling length. The unique shape of a feline length was nothing new to the rabbit, and the changing size of the shaft was just what he'd expected, but Sal had a problem of letting his eyes speak for his throat.

He did gag after just a minute of having his throat swabbed, but at his smaller size, there was an obvious bulge in his throat from Tielo's penetration. Everyone in the room grinned as they looked down at Sal, wondering if he would be giving up on the trial after just under two minutes...but they didn't expect to see an ounce of defiance from the smaller creature.

In fact, it inspired Tsarin to watch Sal clench his fists to try and control his own gag reflex. He was going to move his arms forward to grab Tielo's hips and try to create a small gap for his own comfort, but just as he did, Terryn grabbed those wrists and pulled them back, forcing the lapine to lean forward at the hip while sticking his rump further up in the air.

Sal would be the first to be spitroasted, and Tsarin knew he'd encounter a similar fate before too long, but where the lions expected an easy conquest of the rabbit, they were already seeing that the pair would be able to stand their ground and prove their mettle, no matter the arena or method.

"Not bad..."

Terryn watched Sal closely from behind and dropped his length down on the small, delicate fluff of the rabbit's tail. A familiar throb rang out from the underside of his shaft, and the touch alone left Salt trembling with anticipation as warmth moved down toward his asshole...but there was little vocalization of Terryn's intent.

He was already grunting with nearly feral delight as the tip of his member spilled a healthy dose of precum into the tight, tiny pucker, but the point of the act wasn't to demonstrate such cruelty as an unprepared penetration.

As Simba kept his pose and Ruvus moved around to the backside of the snow leopard, Jace made his role as the potions master known to their visitors. He'd anticipated things going exactly this way, but he didn't want the rest of the valley to think of the lions as savages, and they happened to be well equipped for just such an occasion.

Breaking his length from Tsarin's eager grasp, Jace smiled warmly for the affection he was given and moved back to the table he'd been seated at before, gathering up a pair of small, rounded bottles of glass. With his palms dry, he popped the tops from them and offered one to Ruvus, before walking the other one over to Terryn.

Within, a glistening, viscous fluid rolled around and clung to the glass from within; it was lubricant, obviously enough, but there was something more to it, thanks to the clever mind of the potion master.

A small tincture of herbs had been added to the slick, smooth ooze to give it an ethereal warmth, avoiding the feeling of something cold and abrasive on contact, and that same blend aided the body in relaxing at the point of penetration, removing the majority of the pain from the first thrust.

Given the different sizes and shapes of the males that they'd be working through, Tsarin was grateful for any lubrication at all, but Sal, being so much smaller, was in dire need of the fluid, as he felt it trickling down from the bottle and tickling against his warm, eager entrance.

He let out a quiet rumble of delight around his mouthful as Tielo kept a firm grip on either side of his face, holding his cheeks in place so the warrior could start a slow, easy fuck toward the lapine's gullet.

"Deeper... deeper!" Tielo cheered, feeling the tightest embrace he could imagine around the tip of his feline length. He could have guessed that Sal was experienced with Tsarin when they came in together, but he didn't anticipate someone with such a narrow, slender neck would be able to take everything that he had to offer with such ease.

On Sal's merit alone, Tielo was already learning to accept the outsiders, but the rest of the pride wouldn't be so easy to win over.

Just as Terryn lined up properly and angled the tip of his cock to strike proverbial gold, Tsarin found himself being moved from behind: Ruvus was making a bold move in the face of his chief to change the angle of the snow leopard's body while he was still servicing Simba, but his relationship with the leader of the tribe went back further than most, and he knew how close he was to stepping over a line.

It was exciting for Simba, and the chief let out a low, heavy purr as he felt Tsarin trying desperately to keep his mouth around the offered flesh, only to have it escape his lips as he was moved to his back. He quite easily could have overpowered Ruvus and kept his stance on his knees, but he heard the rumbling approval of the chief from above and allowed himself to be maneuvered to his back, and into an even more submissive position.

There was another rumble of approval as Ruvus stared down at the full, excited throb of Tsarin's member as the trio all moved down to the ground. With no shame about the act, Ruvus reached forth and grabbed the snow leopard by the base of his rod, but even seeing the pulse didn't prepare the lore master for how much force there would be behind the touch.

Keeping his knees on other side of Tsarin's long, warm tail, Ruvus kept it pressed out of the way to expose his tailhole, and with each delicate stroke of his fellow feline's tool, he could see the clench of a pucker that was ready to prove itself, along with the snow leopard attached.

With his lube in paw, Ruvus made quick work of spreading a healthy serving of the slick juice over his own rod, and as he did, Tsarin stayed right in place, knowing that his most important role, at that moment, was to service the chief no matter what it took. Simba took his time kneeling down to his honored guest, allowing the base of his sack to settle right on Tsarin's lips, but that left him with a difficult decision to make.

Feeling the flicker of a tongue against the base of his full, swollen orbs, Simba couldn't decide if he needed to drive his member into Tsarin's throat once more, or if he was okay with just settling there for a moment and seeing how talented the snow leopard could be when it was only his tongue at work.

Time was on his side, and he had plenty of it left to think things over, but he wasn't going to hog Tsarin's mouth the entire time, and Ruvus wasn't going to take too much time going for a deep, hard fuck.

Jace stood in the back and watched for a moment, pouring some of his own creation across the base of his equine length as he enjoyed the show, wondering if the snow leopard or his lapine companion would crack first.