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A Blessing and A Curse

By XP Author

She sighed. Not only did the soldiers just wake the doe from a sound sleep, but they did so by breaking her front door. She sat up, looking at the splinters that used to be the door with bleary eyes, giving the soldiers storming into the small cottage no mind at all. "You could have just knocked..."

An older dog walked in, his armor fancier than the other soldiers, his posture more... up tight. The buff, black-furred canine stared at her with a hard gaze, brown eyes full of steely resolve. His hand rested on the hilt of his sword, ready to draw it at the slightest provocation on her part. It was all so very tedious. "Nanda of Corvix, you are under arrest!" He shouted, his voice full of pomp and arrogance. It made her wince, mostly because of how loud he was being.

She groaned. "Right." She turned, swinging her legs off of the bed and letting her sheet fall away as she yawned. She slept in the nude, so this let her breasts hang out in the air. Several of the soldiers cleared their throats, turning their gaze away as they blushed. The... whatever rank the leader of the group was... did not turn away, but she still caught his eyes flicking down for just a split second before fixing upon her face instead. Oh so very disciplined. "What's the charge this time?" She did nothing to hide the tired boredom from her voice.

The man cleared his throat. "The crimes of treason against the empire! You were seen in the company with known enemies of the Emperor and-"

"Yeah, okay." She waved her hand at him. "I don't actually care." Her flippant attitude seemed to throw him off a little, though also aggravate him. She stretched a little bit, then stood up, letting the sheet fully fall away to expose the last of her body to the men standing in front of her. "So, are you going to let me get dressed first, or is the the kind of arrest where you march me through the streets in the nude? I always forget."

The dog blinked several times. "Uh..." He cleared his throat again. "Y-you may dress yourself first..."

She nodded. "Oh very kind." Her voice dripped with sarcasm. She looked around the little room, then spotted where she had left her dress. Normally, she would prefer to wash the clothes before wearing them again. At least the green thing was not completely dirty. She moved around the bed, hearing the armors shift as the men inside did. "Oh relax. I'm not going to resist." She bent over to pick up the dress, giving everyone a perfect view of her ass and slit, her little tail doing nothing to hide anything. She heard the men shifting uncomfortably this time. With a smirk, she stood back up and pulled the dress over her head, letting it slide down her body, ending just below her knees and giving her some modesty. Though it was clear she really did not care about such things. She did not bother to straighten the mass of wavy brown hair atop her head from its sleep-messed state.

Turning back, she stepped close to the leader. "Alright... captain?" He nodded once. She held out her wrists. "Go ahead."

He nodded again, though it seemed he was incapable of relaxing, despite her compliance. If anything, it only seemed to annoy him more somehow. He brought up the pair of shackles and clamped them upon her wrists. "Very well. You will follow me. And do not make any trouble. We will not hesitate to cut you down where you sta-"

"Captain, do I look like I care about causing trouble?" She tested the shackles all the same. Heavy iron cuffs linked by a short chain. Sturdy. Not too tight, but not lose enough for her to slip free, either. "You lead, I follow. I know how this works." He grunted, turning to march out of the door. She gave the soldiers to her side a shrug. "Must suck to work under such an uptight commander." One of the soldiers actually nodded, getting a nudge from the man beside him. She giggled, then moved to follow the dog out the door.

The sun was barely awake this early, just cresting over the horizon and making the lake outside her cabin sparkle, as if filled with stars. It was kind of a shame. She really liked this little place. She was going to miss it. As she walked behind the captain down the dirt path to the city nearby, the soldiers flanked her, two on each side, another two behind. Seems they thought she was some kind of threat. After several minutes of following in silence, she spoke up. "So am I being led to a fake trial, or are you skipping that pretense and going straight to execution?"

The captain just grunted. "You will find out when we get there."

She rolled her eyes. "Straight to execution, then. Well, at least that saves time." She did not bother asking how they planned to kill her. She doubted he would give her an answer. She tried to remember the favored method of this particular nation. Was it hanging, beheading, or burning at the stake? Or maybe they invented a new way. It had been a long time, so it was entirely possible.

The soldiers continued to march on, leading her to the center of the city. Maybe it was generous to call the place a city. A dozen small buildings clustered up and down a main road, with smaller houses spreading out around it, and a single garrison with a few dozen soldiers. The population was probably less than 200. It was little more than a trade hub that people sometimes didn't move on from. In the center of the market street was a raised platform, similar to a stage, but with a long beam held high by a set of poles on either side. A single rope dangled from the beam. "Ah. Hanging it is then." She shrugged. "At least it isn't from a tree this time."

The captain huffed. "Silence, traitor." She rolled her eyes, shaking her head. The up tight man led her to the few steps that would take her to the top of the stage. "Up you go." She shrugged and hopped up the stairs.

She looked around. The only people walking in the market place were shop owners on their way to open their various shops. She counted maybe a ten people in total, only three of which even stopped to look as she got to the top. "Huh. No crowd." She glanced over her shoulder at the captain as he walked up the steps. "We doing this right now, or are we waiting for an audience? Might wait while, it's pretty ear-" She winced as he struck the back of her head with a metal-covered fist. "Ow..."

"Silence. I've had enough of your flippancy." He reached up and pulled the rope, fitting the noose over her neck and tightening it. "Nanda of Corvix, you have been accused and convicted of treason. Your cohorts are already dead, and your conspiracy against the Emperor has been thwarted." Cohorts? Did he mean the guys she fucked at the bar a few nights ago? She had no idea what conspiracy he meant, either. Not that any of that mattered to these sorts. "You are sentenced to death by hanging. Have you any last words?"

She held her head up high, putting on a stern look. Then just shook her head. "No, not really. I got nothing." She heard him growl low. "Oh! Wait, there is one thing! Make sure someone takes care of my chickens. They get lonely." She shrugged. "Or just kill 'em and eat them. Either works."

The captain let out a scornful sigh. "May the god shave mercy on your soul." He spoke low so only she could hear. "Or not. Either works."

She could not help but grin at the utter disgust in his voice. "Oh, don't worry. They already hate meEEE!" She cried out as the floor under her suddenly fell away. She felt herself falling, and the exact moment the rope hit its maximum length. Her neck let out a loud POP as the bones separated, her body going totally numb in the same moment. She would have frowned at that if she had any control of her body anymore. She was really hoping for a much longer dance on the rope. It had been so long since she felt herself strangle to death. She usually came as she faded in those moments. Now she could not even tell if she was wet anymore.

As the darkness closed in on her mind, she did nothing to struggle or fight against it. She just made another mental mark against this kingdom and this particular soldier as being utterly boring.

* * *

The old ferret grunted when someone banged on his door. He sighed, setting his cards down on the table. "Mmm. Late night caller?" He set his hands down on the table and groaned as he pushed himself up. The banging continued as he rose. "Just a moment!" He called out, straightening himself up. He heard his back pop a few times as he did. "Oof... been sitting too long." The banging started again. "Yeah yeah! Keep yer pants on!"

As he got to the door, he unlatched the lock and pulled it open. "What's all the racket for in the middle of the night?"

Standing outside was a soldier. Some young fox he didn't recognize, not that he really bothered to remember faces. "Private McMarshal, Sir. I've got a delivery for you." The young man looked like he was barely out of his teens, and not used to wearing the armor yet. Though the ferret figured the armor had little to do with why the boy looked so uncomfortable. More likely was the reason he was here. They liked to make new recruits do these sorts of deliveries.

The man grunted, opening his door a little more. "Alright, Private. Stand aside. Let ol' Deega see what you've brought him." The boy nodded and moved out of the way, showing the wooden cart he had dragged all the way here. He caught a glimpse of one long, slender leg hanging off the end, covered in short, tan fur. "Hrm... just one?" He stepped over and looked down at the body of the doe, her green dress covered in dirt and the stains of rotten food. "Oh. Guessing it's not one of yours then."

The fox nodded. "Yes Sir. I-I mean, No Sir."

Deega chuckled. "Relax, young man. I'm not your commanding officer." He nodded at the woman. "Who is she, then?"

The boy, now visibly relaxed, responded. "A traitor to the empire... apparently. Someone from somewhere called Corvix."

The ferret nodded, reaching out to bump her leg, straightening it with the other one. "Corvix, you say? Quite far for such a young woman to be from home." The town in question was indeed far away. Several months journey, at least. He pointed at the stains on her dress. "Did you catch her in a kitchen?"

The solder shook his head. "No, Sir. She was arrested in her home. She was executed three days back..." He glanced up at the night sky, wondering if it was past midnight now. "Maybe four. She was on display in the town square since."

Deega quirked an eyebrow. Being on display would explain the stains then. The people did like to pelt the dangling meat puppets will all kinds of things. Still... "Four days, you say?" He reached out to run a hand against the doe's arm, giving it a soft squeeze as if he was appraising the ripeness of a fruit. "She is in remarkable condition." He took hold of her head by her jaw, gently tilting her head to the side. "No signs of rot or decay at all." He gently rested her head back down. "A real pretty lass, to boot. A shame." He swore she looked familiar, too, but kept this to himself.

The fox shifted uncomfortably, which the ferret could not help but notice. Clearly the boy also thought this young woman was pretty, but the fact that she was dead was more than a little unsettling. A natural reaction, though one the old graveyard keeper had long since stopped having. "D-do... you need my help with... tending to h-... th-the body... sir?"

He chuckled. "No, Deega is not THAT old." He saw the man visibly relax again, clearly relieved he would not have to actually move the body itself. "That is all, Private. You may return to your base. Tell the captain she will be buried appropriately." For a traitor, this meant an unmarked grave at the edge of the cemetery.

The soldier nodded, then gave a salute, only to hesitate at the end if he even should be giving a salute to the man. The ferret just chuckled at him. "Very well, Sir. Um... Have a good night?"

Deega nodded. "I will. Off you go, now." The fox nodded and turned, marching himself back towards the city and the garrison at a faster than normal pace. "They need to stop teasing these young lads so much. Though I hope he never sees combat. Poor boy would probably be the first to end up on one of these carts." He looks at the doe again. "You agree, don't you, lass?" He chuckled as he went back into his little shack to retrieve his shovel, setting it down beside the dead woman. "Of course you do." He moved around to the front of the cart, grasping the handles. "Though I guess it is beyond your concerns now."

The old ferret hummed to himself as he took hold of the cart and started pulling it down the pathway into the graveyard itself. It was not a particularly huge field, the city only going back three generations or so, but there was room to grow. Any aspiring city needed to plan for where to put their dead. He knew he would be occupying one of these graves long before they ran out of room for more. Every day brought him that much closer to his own eternal sleep. Though he still had another good 30 or 40 years in him. He hoped so, at least.

He was in no rush to get across the yard, since he would have to dig the hole for her once he got to the far edge. He spoke to her the whole way. "You know, it is a shame for such a pretty young thing like you to die so." He spoke to her plainly, as if he was just holding a conversation in the tavern, and not talking to a corpse. "I used to know a sweet doe back in the day. About 30 years ago now. You remind me much of her. I think she was about your age. Same pretty blue eyes and wild hair, too." He chuckled. "Of course, I was a much younger man myself. No grey in my fur yet, and my back didn't ache every day."

He grunted as he had to give the cart a hard tug to get over a bump in the pathway. "She was an odd one. The only girl I've ever met that wasn't immediately repulsed by Deega's profession. If anything, she seemed quite relaxed around the idea of the dead. I think she may have been an assassin with her attitude." He chuckled. "Not for Deega, of course. No. No one has any reason to kill a gravedigger." He sighed softly. "I still think of her, sometimes. The only girl that ever took an interest in old Deega."

He got to the edge of the path, turning take the cart off the path and to the spot he would have to dig. "Never found out what happened to her. She just came through, we spent a wild few nights together, and she was gone. Vanished into thin air." He shifted the cart a little before setting it down. "Here we are." He brushed his hands off before walking around to the other side again. He looked in at her, staring at her face for a long moment. "Hrm... you look almost exactly like Nasha. You wouldn't be her daughter, would you?"

The more he stared, the more he became convinced she had to be. She looked almost exactly like the doe he knew. If he didn't know any better, he would say she was the same woman. Of course, that was impossible. She would have to be nearly 50 by now, not this pretty young 20-something laying on the cart in front of him. He rest his hands against her leg, gently giving the soft thigh a squeeze. She was still cold under his touch, but again he was amazed by the condition of her body. "You know. I think you must be. I know they said you were a traitor, but you know what? Deega thinks you deserve better than being buried in this dirty old dress."

He grabbed a hold of the bottom of her dress, pulling it up her slender legs. It was a simple one-piece thing, so he let it bunch up in his hands as he drew it higher. He had to reach down to lift her hips up, his hand gently caressing her soft rear. He was a little surprised that there was no undergarment covering it, hoping that this wasn't the doing of the soldiers or some of the townsfolk. "Excuse me, deary. Hope you don't mind." He smiled as he pulled the fabric higher.

He shifted her arms upwards above her head so he could continue to slip the dress upwards. He noted the off-white fur along her flat belly, only slightly stained by some dirt. When the fabric rose up above her chest, and he saw the perky breasts fully exposed to the air, he let out a soft, relieved sigh. He took it as a sign that she just didn't have the chance to put on anything before the dress, not some additional torture done by the men. His hand slid under her head to gently lift it as he slid the dress up over it. He gently set it back down on the cart while he pulled the dress fully off over her arms. "There you go." He set the dress down beside her, moving her arms back down to her sides.

He let out a soft grunt. "I'm sorry I don't have anything appropriate for you to wear." He chuckled softly. "But, if you're anything like your mother, you probably prefer to be naked to wearing dirty clothes." He pat her cheek gently, he fingers trailing just a little along her face. He caught himself staring into her eyes, feeling a blush coming to his face. There was no fear or shock or pain in her glassy gaze, like so many. No surprise at her own death. She looked peaceful, as if she had simply just accepted her end. Somehow this added to her beauty.

He cleared his throat, pulling his hand away. "Ah, sorry." He laughed softly, shifting a little. "Mmm..." He looked behind himself, in the direction the city sat. In the dark of night, it was unlikely anyone would be around, and even less likely anyone would know he was here or see him. People avoided graveyards at night. He looked back at the doe, his hand hesitantly reaching out before brushing his fingers through the wild mess of wavy brown hair. "You won't hold it against old Deega for enjoying a pretty girl, would you? I don't get very many. Most are old and rotting." He may not have any issue with handling the dead, but this was the first time he had ever felt himself drawn to a corpse like this. He chalked it up to her being in such good condition, and looking so much like his old fling.

Maybe he could indulge himself, just this once. It was unlikely he would ever get another like her, after all. He leaned down, hesitant again, but eventually gave into the urge and pushed his lips to hers. He kissed her slack mouth, a gentle and loving kiss. She tasted just like Nasha, too. Now he was certain this was her daughter. He felt a tear on his cheek, not for any shame on his part, but for the loss of someone he never knew.

He ran his hand down her body, fingers gently toying with her fur. He slid them between her breasts, down to her belly, toying along the soft flesh. There was no rise or fall of her breath, no twitching or shivering of her skin under his touch, but he enjoyed teasing all the same. His fingers slid lower, until he felt the folds of her sex, the little bump of her clit hidden just outside. He brushed the little nub gently, as if she could feel the pleasure this would give her. He wished it did, wanting to hear this lovely creature's moans, a sound none would ever hear again.

He found himself growing more than a little stiff within his pants. He pulled back from the kiss he had held to her while exploring her body, giving another quick peck to her nose. "You deserve one last night. One last person showing you love." He stepped back, hastily untying the cord at his waist. He pushed his pants down, letting them fall to his ankles and stepping out of them. He removed his shirt as well, pulling the brown tunic up and off to leave himself as naked as she was. "No reason you should be the only one enjoying the night air, after all." He was not completely hideous. Brown fur covered a body that was still well muscled, if not as well as he had been 30 years ago. A slight belly rounded his middle, but not so much that he could not see his toes when he looked down. Sitting under the belly was his shaft, pointing outward at her as it grew to its full seven inches, a hefty set of balls hanging under it.

He moved around to the front of the cart, reaching out to rest his hands against her legs. "Sorry I don't have a more comfortable bed for you." He gently pulled her down, until her rear was right at the edge of the cart. "I hope you don't mind." He slowly parted her legs, fingers still squeezing at the soft thighs. He stared at her lovely lower lips, licking his own lips a little. He leaned down between the legs, sniffing at her crotch. The scent was exactly like Nasha's, a nostalgic and slightly sorrowful smell that made his cock twitch a little. He slipped his tongue at those folds, tasting her. There were no juices for him to lap up, but he could imagine, knowing what Nasha's had tasted like.

He not only tasted along her, but he made sure to get her ready. His tongue left trails to get her wet, at least enough so it was not a fully dry entry for himself. He tilted his head up, giving her clit a gentle kiss before standing up straight. Shifting forward a pace, he reached down to take hold of his shaft and aim it at the entrance. "I hope I'm enough for you. Your mother never complained." He pushed forward, gasping as the first few inches slid inside. Her inner walls were cool around him, but so incredibly tight, despite being slack in death. "Oh... by the gods!" He moaned, pushing another inch into her.

He thrust with a slow pace, not wanting to rush the night away. She felt incredible around him. He reached his hands up to take hold of her sides, fingers brushing through her fur. "You are wonderful" he muttered to her, another inch sliding in. He let his hands slide up a little more, brushing the outsides of her breasts. They were soft under his touch, and when he wrapped fingers around them, felt their weight. They were big enough to fill his hand, but not so huge that he could not wrap his hand about them. He gave each a firm squeeze, feeling the nipples hidden under her fur.

He thrust a little harder, her cool walls wrapped about the entirety of his shaft now. He let out a shuddering moan. "Ah... here I am, trying to give you a gift, and it feels like you're trying to milk me already!" He laughed softly, leaning down a little to kiss her belly. "Deega will let you." He pulled his hips back, thrusting forward hard. Her body rocked on the cart, which creaked under her a little. He held her by her tits as he started to fuck her. His balls slapped against her ass each time he plunged himself within her dead folds.

He closed his eyes, letting his imagination fill in the silence with the memory of Nasha. Her moaning for him, the way she squeezed around him, the way she cried out each time he plunged himself deep. He was not sure he had loved her, or if it was merely lust for the first and... only... woman he had ever been with. Maybe both. It did not matter. He let himself cry out with the memory of her, fucking the dead woman he was sure was her daughter. What could very well be his daughter. That thought did not stop him. If anything, he felt even more of a reason to give her a last night of love and pleasure she could not feel or experience.

He felt himself twitching and throbbing within her. His hands moved down to grip at her sides, yanking her back as his hips slammed forward, ramming himself as deep as he could over and over. Her body rocked and jostled on the cart, arms flopping about, head rolling from side to side. Her tits jiggled and bounced with every strike of his crotch kissing hers. He felt his balls tightening up, the pressure rising. "I'm... I'm almost... there..." he moaned, gripping at her tighter. He grit his teeth, trying to make this last all the longer, not willing to stop yet.

Unfortunately, he could not hold back forever. He felt the pressure building to a crescendo. Throwing his head back, he let out a loud, groaning moan as his cock jerked and twitched and spat his cum deep into her cold, dead pussy. Shot after shot blasted up into her tunnel, incredibly hot against her cold sex. He spilled all he had to give, filling her, to the point it started to leak around the edges of his shaft, dripping down his balls and onto the cart and ground under them.

He fell forward, his head right between her breasts. His hips still thrust slightly, doing his best to pump every last ounce of his cum up into her womb, fruitless as it may be. He panted heavily, feeling a little light headed. He had not cum that hard... well, since Nasha. Maybe even then. 30 years of pent up sexual tension will do that to a man. He closed his eyes, letting himself rest and just enjoy the blissful feeling of holding himself against her.

He was not sure just how long he lay there, gently nuzzling between her breasts, using them like soft pillows. Long enough for his shaft to have deflated, slipping out of her tight tunnel so it leaked much of the seed he had put into it. Quite a bit had drooled out onto the ground now, leaving her lips quite a mess. Somehow, he knew she would have liked it this way. He wanted to stay like this, just resting atop her. Though he could not. The night would not last forever, and eventually, he had to tend to her properly.

He sighed, leaning up to give her lips another gentle, lingering kiss. "I'm sorry, lass. We will have to part here. If someone were to find me loving a corpse, I would be the next on the rope." With another soft kiss, he forced himself up. He groaned a little, his head still a little dizzy. He walked over to where he had left his clothes and slid them back on again. He let out a soft sigh, but had a gentle smile upon his lips, as well. A night too short, but at least he had a fun one.

The old ferret looked around, until he found the shovel he had brought sitting on the ground. It probably fell out of the cart at some point when he was going at the cold girl. He brought it up and dug it into the dirt to start the grave. "Mmmm... you still have it, you sly old weasel."

He smiled. "I keep telling you, I'm a fer-" He froze. That was no memory suddenly floating up. His hands suddenly trembled on the shovel's handle. He dared to turn his head towards the cart, where the sexy voice had come from. Sure enough, the doe was sitting up, stretching her arms up as if she had just woken from a nap. She squeezed her legs together, letting out another, louder moan, a shiver of pleasure running through her whole body.

Nanda slid herself forward, letting out a little yelp as her legs were a touch unstable and rubbery. She giggled. "Haha... damn... got me all woozy from that one, too." She turned, giving him a bright, happy, blissful, and very much NOT dead smile. "I haven't had someone fuck me like that in ages!" He just stared at her, then felt nothing. His eyes rolled back as darkness took him, his body slumping backwards as he passed out. What else could one do when you realized you just fucked a zombie?

* * *

There was something cold and wet on his head. It did nothing to dull the pain of the headache. He groaned, not wanting to rise back to consciousness, but having no choice. Though he was happy to be free of whatever dream-turned-nightmare he had experienced. Just as he was about to sit up, a hand gently pressed to the damp rag on his head. "Hey, shhh. Take it easy. You're not as young as you were."

His eyes snapped open. That voice. It couldn't be. He found himself looking up into the face of Nasha. Or her daughter? Or her ghost? Whatever she was. His eyes went wide. "Nasha? It... it is you..." How was that the rational thing to say? He should be panicking right now.

Her gentle smile reassured him. "I go by Nanda now." She frowned a little. "Well, I did until a few days ago. Gonna need a new name again."

He sat up slowly, her hand against his shoulder to help him. They were back in his shack. She must have carried him back here while he was out. "H-how...?" He just stared at her. She had wrapped herself up in a sheet, wearing it like a toga. It was not a bad look for her, like it was something she just naturally wore. He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, rubbing at them. When he opened them, she was still there, alive as anyone. "HOW!?"

She laughed softly, holding her hands up. "It's... a long story." Her hand moved to gently brush his arm. "Are you okay?"

He looked down at her hand, then back at her, still in some kind of shock. "Yeah, I'm... I'm fine. But how are you!? You were dead! And... you don't look any different from 30 years ago! Are you some kind of... ghost or something? Evil spirit? Oh gods, this is a curse for having made love to your daughter's corpse isn't it?" He was babbling now, his hands coming up to cover his face. "I'm cursed, aren't I?"

Nanda just laughed, in spite of everything. It was a boisterous, joyful one of a friend, not the dark, evil laughter he had expected from a demon. "I never suspected you to be a superstitious one, Deega." She took his hand, bringing it up to rest against her chest, just below her neck. She was... soft, but also warm. He could feel the thump of her heart against his palm. "I'm alive. Not a ghost. Not a spirit. And definitely not sent here to curse you for fucking me while I was dead. And that was me, not my daughter. I don't have any children. Alive or dead."

Now he was just confused. "So... you were dead..." She nodded. "But now you're not..." She nodded again. "I've gone insane."

She giggled softly, patting his hand. "You're not insane. No more than you always were, at least." She reached over and grabbed something from the table, moving it to hold it out to him. It was a small glass with amber liquid inside. The scent of whiskey hit his nose. He accepted it, taking a gulp and wincing as it burned its way down his throat. "To answer the obvious question, I'm immortal."

He looked at her, wishing the glass had more whiskey in it than one gulp. "Immortal?" He wanted to doubt her, but the evidence was clearly there before him. She had been very much dead and cold with no heartbeat, and now she was very much alive and warm and breathing and giving him that friendly smile he loved. "Okay... how? Are you a god?"

She flinched. "Oh, goodness no! I'm as weak as any person. No powers over the elements or creation or any of that. I bleed and feel pain, and can die. I just... don't stay dead."

He nodded slowly. "Okay... again... how?"

She took a breath, and let it out slowly. "It's a very long story. Short version: I used to be a priestess, I killed someone in the temple, and the god of that temple cursed me. Now I can die over and over and over, but never be released from life."

He nodded again, not quite sure he could believe it all. "Why did you kill someone in the temple if it could get you cursed?"

She frowned. "Well, I didn't KNOW it would get me cursed. I mean, what was I supposed to do, let the asshole rape me?"

He winced at the sudden ferocity in her voice. "No... no, that's... not what..."

The doe took a breath. "I know... I know. I'm sorry. It's just..." She sighed. "I mean, my choice was let the guy keep jamming tiny dick into my ass, or stab him in the eye. Obviously the gods thought letting him keep plowing my ass was the right choice. I disagreed. Now I'm..." She motioned down at herself, as if showing something. "No clue if there's some kind of out, either. They aren't known for being forthcoming about anything."

The ferret nodded slowly again. "So... what temple was this, anyway? Was it in Corvix? The soldier who brought your..." He hesitated a moment. "...corpse... to me said you were from there."

She shook her head. "Oh, no. I just used the name Nanda of Corvix for a while. No, it was the temple of Isha in Vanadel. An old city in the western part of Ranei."

He blinked at her, the name rattling around in his mind, trying to grasp at some logic. "R-Ranei?" She nodded. "Um... please don't think ill of me for asking this of a lady, but... just how old are you? Ranei fell over a thousand years ago!"

Nanda giggled softly. "Actually, it fell four separate times. It just kind of found a way back most of the times." She hummed slightly. "Guess I'm fitting in that way." She saw the odd look he was giving her. "Oh. I'm from the first Ranei empire. So... about 5000 years old? Give or take a hundred years. You lose track of the exact year and start counting in decades and centuries after a while." He just stared at her in shock. "I actually missed the third time Ranei fell. I was kind of trapped in a tomb at the time. Was down there for about 300 or so years before an earthquake opened it up and let me out."

He was still struggling with this. "So you've died and come back... a whole lot of times?"

She nodded. "Yeah. Bunch of different ways. Hanging, stabbing, burning, got cut up a few times." She blushed just a little. "I learned to... um... like it... a little. Some of them, anyway. Not a fan of being burned." She saw the almost horrified look he gave. "Oh, I don't go out of my way SEEKING to die or anything. But it always keeps happening, so I just learned to... enjoy it?" She gave him an embarrassed, awkward smirk.

"Okay..." He was starting to wonder if he should just lay back down and go back to sleep. "So why were you dead on my cart until you... weren't?"

She blushed a little more. "Oh, well... uh..." She bit her lower lip. "Well, I was going to just let you bury me and stay there for a while. But you were so sweet and loving, and the way you fucked me was just... SO good! Being all filled up like that? I just couldn't hold back cumming, too... so..." She shrugged a little, her blush only growing worse.

He closed his eyes, putting a hand to his forehead. "This is insane. Old Deega has finally gone and lost his mind!"

She smiled, reaching out and taking his hand in her own. "You haven't lost your mind. I know how crazy it sounds, but... you saw first hand that I was dead. Now I'm not. You're not crazy, or insane, or cursed. I'm the one who's cursed." She smiled a little more as he opened his eyes to look at her. "But it's also a blessing. I've met a lot of lovely people. A lot of not-so-lovely people, too, but I choose to remember the good ones more." She squeezed his hand. "You're one of the good ones, you silly weasel."

"Ferret!" He snapped, then stopped himself. "You really are her, aren't you?" She nodded, still giggling at him. "So... if Nanda or Nasha aren't your real name, what do I call you?"

She shrugged. "Doesn't matter. It's been so long, and I've changed my name so many times, I don't even remember what my original name was. Something with a Kah... but I don't remember if it started or ended with that..."

He took a deep breath, then slowly let it out. "Well... supposing I believe all this... WILDLY insane story... what are you going to do now?"

She shook her head. "I don't know." Her posture drooped a little. "I was just getting settled here when all this happened. All because I banged some guys at the bar one night."

He chuckled. "Were they gravediggers, too?"

That brightened her mood a little. "No. Apparently they were spies. Claimed to be spice merchants." She leaned over and gave his nose a gentle kiss. "If it makes you feel any better, you're the only gravedigger I've been with in centuries."

The ferret twitched his nose. "I'm not sure if that does or not, to be honest." He stayed quiet for a long moment, mulling over a question in his head. It battered around inside his skull, bursting to get out. Finally, it blurted out his mouth. "If you were still here this whole time, why didn't you ever come back to me?" She winced, her hand flinching a little, but he gripped it. "Tell me! Did I mean anything to you then? Do I now? Does ANYONE?"

Her whole posture drooped again, her eyes turning away. He saw the sadness within them in the instant before she couldn't look at him. "You did. That's why I left. Why I never came back." She slid her hand out of his grip, only to bring her arms up and hug herself, as if fighting off a chill. "That's the real curse. Everyone I get close to dies, but I keep living." He could feel the sorrow in her voice. "Not just people, but even places. Whole civilizations. They die... but I keep going..."

He wanted to reach out, to hold her and comfort her somehow, but... it didn't seem like it was enough. "I started just letting myself... rest in places. When I would die, I would let them bury me, and just stay there. But the curse doesn't let that stick. They don't let me have that easy way out." She closed her eyes, and he saw the tears falling away from her face, despite her voice staying even. "More violent ways don't stick, either. Cut me up and throw the pieces across different oceans, they'll find a way back together somehow, someway. Always. Even if it takes hundreds of years, I'll come back..."

He finally could not just watch and reached out, putting his arms around her. She nearly flung herself against him, her face buried against his chest. He just held her like this, letting her cry. She did not sob or wail, but he felt the tears soak into his shirt all the same. "I'm sorry." It was all he could say. She nodded, and let him hold her. He rested his chin gently atop her head. "You can stay here. Deega will keep you hidden for a while." She sniffled, nodding. "The soldiers will forget. Everyone will forget. Deega will not."

She let a single laugh slip out, though it sounded a little like a sob to him. "Thank you, Deega. I will not forget you, either. You silly, sentimental, sweet, lovable ferret."

He smiled. "Weasel works, too."

* * *

She stood there, staring down at the marker. It was a small slab of smooth granite. Beautiful in its simplicity. Like the man it marked the grave of. The words etched into the stone: 'Here lies Deega, loving husband. Now resting among the field he so tend to with great care.' She wrote the epitaph herself. Beside was another stone, identical in all but the words. 'Here lies Bayla, loving wife. Resting in the field with her beloved.' Of course, the grave it marked was empty, since she was standing in front of it. She had been tempted to rest there beside him for a time, but she did not want to disturb this place when the curse made her come back.

She knelt down, setting a small set of flowers in front of the simple gravestone. "Rest well, silly weasel." She half expected him to burst forth and angrily correct her, as he had done so many times in the last 34 years they spent together. Of course, he did not. "I won't forget you." She took a breath and let it out slowly. She had no tears, but she would mourn him, in her own way.

She stood up once more. From the corner of her eye, she saw the man standing down the path. A middle-aged fox, Terry McMarshal. The poor guy had lost half of his tail and his left eye in a battle when he was just a kid. Deega had taken him under his wing and helped train him to be the new tender of graves. Said it was somehow fitting. She gave a wave to the man, and he nodded in return. He knew about her. The only person still alive who did. He also knew she couldn't stay around anymore.

She turned, not towards the city, but away. She started walking, not really knowing what her destination would be. She would find out when she got there. Maybe she will have come up with a new name for herself by then. Maybe something with a V this time...?

She smiled. "I think I like the sound of... Victoria."

* * *