FSE

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formerly SoFurry search engine

This is a new story series I'm making. It's a fan-fic series for one of my newest favorite story series, In the Enemies Territory, by

Which takes place during the timeline of their main story, and dealing with one of her werewolf species, a rogue group of Wogtal wolves (Dire Wolves) in a war struggle.

I would like to thank Woofajuana, for all their help and support with editing and giving lore and background info. If you like this story or want to check out the original go to her page and or use the links and enjoy.

Be sure to like and comment if you liked it, or have something to say. I greatly respect criticism, praise and attention, because of course I do.

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:Warning:

The following story contains adult material and depiction's of sexual and Kink based activity. If you are under 18 or whatever age of consent in your Province, Municipality, State, Country, Nation etc. then do not read further.

You have been warned and told, and should you ignore or choose to look anyway even if you're not of age may your God (or gods, whatever) pour hot acid down your throat and dissolve your testicles into snakes (And if you're female, then your insides, since you don't have testicals, which may be a bummer for some of you or a blessing for the rest).

If you do not care for sexual or kink material then you can close the window or go elsewhere, and if you don't mind then enjoy, the options are free for everyone

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Fires sparked across the plains, carried ablaze from the billowing gusts of wind that washed over the land. The wind spiking both scorched earth and flame. The smoke from the fire and broken earth smothered the air and fogged the field. Above dark clouds gathered and thunderous roars shook in the distance. Within a few minutes in answer, cold pelting rain began to fall and drench the now calming battlefield.

The fires that sparked across the fields for days now sputtered and soon dwindled or died under the fall of the rain shower. The water washing away the fires also began diluting the blood soaked grass.

So much of the grass and ground was still stained red with blood and was scorched black, surrounded and imposed by smoking and bulking ruins of dozens of dead Aroogar and Wogtal mechs. Splayed all around the downed machines were their pilots and escorts. Still and unmoving bodies of dead and dying.

Even more Wogtal and Aroogar wolves, much like their machines, lay side by side or in far worse condition, all over the land. All lay dead, or soon to be. Having been rotting ehr for several days. The only real living things among them now were the various accursed carrion birds, who flocked across the stained ground sorting through the bodies and blood.

From up top of a small rock plateau looking down on the ruined grass fields, lay a Wogtal marked and downed war mech. The entire right side of the machine had been caved in by an artillery blast, and now what was left of the crumbling war tank lay dead on its side. Sitting on top of the crumbled war mech, cross legged and patient, lay the tall Wogtal Praetor, Boers Straeger.

A hulking form of Dire wolf, his silver colored pelt stood out on top of the blackened gray metal of the mech. As he took in the battlefield, scanning for any sign of survivors or reinforcements, from either side, he ran his paw over the multitude of tribalistic markings decorating his silver pelt. The markings that designated him commander, written in gold dye and paint. Yet Some commander he had been. His wolves were dead.

That set of large strong paws rested on the metal hull of the war machine under him. He lowered his gaze, glad for the distraction and focussed on his claws digging contours into the metal and scraping the paint, in reserved anger. Building under his surface was a wave of closeted anger, the likes of which he usually was able to keep wrapped up. That particular task was proving rather difficult right now. Still, he was managing to hold back the rage, given the length of claw marks he was leaving in the hull of the destroyed war machine.

His left green eye and his right blue, returned to staring abjectly across the battlefield before him. It was actually strange to think of the once lush field of green grass and flowers that was now a communal grave. The final resting place of his and their enemies dead. The battle had lasted three days, three days of hell. Where once everything had been carnage and chaos, now it was calm, alone, and desolate once more.

The rain flushed the stained blood from Boers cheeks and body as it pelted over his braided mane and hair, clinking on the metal body armor he wore across his chest. He hadn't even realized there was blood on him before then. It didn't really actually matter though. It wasn't his.

The rain drops grew heavier as the air grew colder, a blowing breeze carnage plated ran and chill to wash over the dire form. Boers body reflexively shivered though he barely felt any chill. The heat of the battle was still boiling in his veins. Still, almost on autopilot his paw drew the black and red tartan over his shoulder down further to cover his chest. As he did so he fiddled with the tartans clasp brooch, bared with his personal insignia, a hatchet crossed with a wolf's fang over a full moon.

Though the cloth protected his broad shoulders, he figured he should find a replacement, before the tough material became too soaked. Boers fidgeted with a small survival bag that he had rescued from the downed mech. The tightly packed red velvet bag was worn and carried a set of scorch marks along its aged cloth. As the dire unzipped the bag, he dug into it with his paws, until he came across the item he was looking for. Pulling out a large bundle black cloak, waterproof and terrain resistant. He draped the cloak about his shoulders, and brought the hood up and over to cover his ears.

He didn't worry about his legs. Not with the green and black kilt cloth around this waist, covering the leather leg bracers that protected his thighs. He was used to being bare legged and pawed, except for the set of leather spat like wrappings that covered the sole and heel of his feet. While the wrapping kept his feet cool and protected, it allowed his toes and toe claws to touch ground, which made him feel connected to the earth. He'd have to change them if the rain didn't let up soon. Couldn't have water damaged paw coverings on for too long, if he didn't want to risk rot setting in.

The cold air felt good on his body, which still sweltered with the heat from the battle. Boers let out a pained wine as he curled his tail around his side. While he appreciated the cool chill of the wind and rain, his heart still groaned with pain at the mass loss of his entire Brigade. The grassland heights were one of the few lowland areas before one got to the tall hills and then the base of the mountain range. It was a direct route to the Wogtal homeland, and was the right flank of the dires' invasion.

They had been charged to hold the Hadrian heights at all costs, and they had held. Much to their decimation. Of the sixty to seventy Wogtal warriors that had composed the Ransacker battalion, only seven Ransackers remained. Including their commander.

Below him, huddled to the remaining solid side of the mech, lay the last of the survivors. They had used the mech's broken body to help set up a series of cloth and tarp coverings to make a makeshift pavilion to keep them protected from the rain. A large fire roared right underneath, a small hole cut in the top allowing the smoke to billow out without letting the water douse the flame.

Gathered around the warmth of the fire were seven wolves, six Wogtal and one Fa'val. The Wogtal dires were parsed about, with only two of them sitting close together, while the Fa'val sea wolf lay curled into the side of one of the Wogtal.

The two Wogtal that sat together were the twins, Vadma and Vad. Full names were Vadmacska and Vadasz, the only surviving scouts left in the unit. A lively pair of troublemakers but excellent fighters.

From his arch above, Boers laid back on the hub of the mech. His cloak and hood covered him well enough from the rain and wind. He put an arm around the side resting his head on it, and peered down while resting lengthways on the roof. From there he had the best vantage point to hear and listen in on the conversations of the others below.

Vadasz was a tall wolf like most Wogtal dires. His six-foot seven form looked impressive, even hunched over as it was while he cleaned his foot-paws, washing away blood stained and caked mud and dirt. Like Boers he had silver blizzard like fur, with a splash of back under his eyes and across his cheeks. Boers could just imagine the hunter's Ice blue eyes, gazing hauntingly at the dirt on his feet. That gaze was unnerving. Sometimes even staring into the other wolf's eyes made Boers shiver internally. Beside the young male was his sister Vadma. The two were currently engaged in some back and forth ribbing.

"So herr Beta, oh Mr. Second in command, how's it feel to be promoted?" Grinned the female dire with teasing mirth. Using too much of a sweet voice. Much like her brother she was tall, though just slightly taller than him by a few inches. They made a contrasting slight beside one another, despite being related. Her dark-gray pelt didn't blend with his silver, and her mismatched colored eyes resembled Boers far more than her brother's sickly blue. The only thing other than size that connected them, was the splash of black under their eyes and naturally dyed into their muzzles and cheeks.

"Don't joke about that!" Snapped Vad angrily, wiping his paws off on a small cloth. "Or did you forget, someone had to die for me to be promoted?" The dire hissed back at his sister. His eyes vividly began scanning to make sure none of the other Wogtal noticed. "You want me to lose rank and respect by bragging about that?" He grumbled hotly.

Vadma's grin died off as she shook her head and rolled her own eyes. "Oh please, everyone knows that Evaan's dead already. And no fret, if anyone deserved to go it was that bastard," she chirped. Just the thought of the black colored sadist made her shiver. To recover she flopped her earring clad ears and flipped her head to swish her hair, flicking her ponytail as she shook her mane.

"Regardless, we shouldn't be talking about this so openly," worried Vad. "It's taken me a long time to get a reputation as something other than the shaman, and I can't risk losing respect because of failure and petty gossip." He huffed dejectedly at his sister. Beginning to clear away the last of the mud from his footpads.

"You'll be fine, everyone already prefers you as our Beta, then that sadistic freak." Added Vadma. "Did you see what he and Max did to the Fa'val bitch? Bleh, brutal. It's no fun being with them when they shatter them like that!" She shivered. Beginning to play with the two woven and jeweled braids that composed her mane on either side of her ponytail. When she got nervous, she always seemed to fidget.

"Felder didn't seem to like it either. He's been taking care of her since he saw her after their last session. Evaan and Max are lucky they're dead. I've seen that walking tank rip a Boarstarg in half with his bare paws before." Smirked Vad, lightening up as they glanced over to the large mass of dark brown wolf that was Felder. "How did he die anyway?" Inquired Vad, wanting to know the fate of the former captain.

"I heard he got fried by an open mech core," teased Vadma, imagining the creepy wolf being flame broiled by a fusion reactor. Vad grimaced and made a disgusted face in return.

"Blah you almost make me smell it," he guffawed.

Boers above shivered and grunted as he listened in. There were some places he was not prepared to go. One of them was Vadma's mind. In truth though she was not very far off. The previous captain's death had been just as gruesome. Evaan had been killed when the upper half of his body from the chest on up, had been blown off by an Aroogar mechs battle cannon. The term, "red juice bottle rocket," was something Boers had never thought he would have to use as a description for something in his life. Yet here they were.

"True!" Continued Vadma below, replying to something Boers had missed hearing from her brother. "Though I think Halott might give them a run for their money. He's been eyeing the little spunk bank for an hour now," whispered the female. They both paused to look at the silver-grayed furred wolf on the other end of the fire with the twisted fang curling out his mouth. "I think they might even come to blows if Halot challenges her use,"assured the female.

"Isn't it your job as a Delta to stop that?" Wondered Vad quizzically, glancing at his sister. "You're our babysitter are you not?" He snickered. Ignoring the hiss she sent his way and dodging the cuff she lanced toward his ears.

"Rotter! Don't treat it like some trivial thing!" She demanded. "Keeping order and running the camp and logistics is not an easy thing. And! On top of sniping and tracking, I'm fully committed!" Vadma groaned. Her voice carried the hint of frustration, which for anyone else would be dangerous.

Vadma had the ability to be both pretty and menacing all at once. It was not unknown for her to get a bit heated and hot when flustered or angry. She had gained quite the reputation, and it was common knowledge that in such a state, she was quick to knock out a few heads that got too close. Or just pissed her off further.

"Well the job will be a bit easier now, with only eight of us," whimpered Vadasz calmly. Turning his attention from his feet to his waist. The young scout began unloading his belt. The black stained leather strap was fettered with several large to small pouches, foraging bags, and sacks. Laying the belt on the ground beside his sleeping cot. Right after, the dire stripped another bandolier from around his waist, careful of its set of knives and the long slithering like slip lead that was his slave catcher.

"So you say, but just trying to keep this lot in line is going to be a headache." Moaned Vadma glancing around at their fellow survivors. "There's too many different tribes here, too many different customs and traditions, it's a nightmare trying to hold them all together," she hissed.

"At least the Praetor respects you enough to leave you in charge," admonished Vadasz once more. It was well known among the brigade that Vadma was one of Boers favorites.

"He respects you too, Vad. Out of the whole brigade there's no better scout than you, no better hunter. Who brings back more than any other forager but you?" Vadma nodded her head gently toward her brother and gave him a reassuring smile. "Of course you're best suited for second in command. You're the Shaman!"

"That title again, it's bad enough trying to live up to that nickname alone. It didn't do much good for a lot of them out there did it?" he whimpered. "I let down the Praetor, and the rest of the troop."

"Don't talk about such rubbish!" Snapped Vadma, not putting up with her brother's pity party. "The Praetor doesn't hold you responsible, nor more than you should hold yourself. You're just one wolf Vad, you couldn't heal every single dying and wounded out there," assured the dark furred female.

"But, he appointed you Delta, and logistics officer...I had to wait till the last guy died to get my position. And the position I already had, I wasn't even prepared to do that" Groaned the young silver dire worriedly. "I've spent so long trying to get rank, to make him see me as worthy," hissed Vad impatiently. "All ruined in one single battle." He spat.

"Oh poor little brother, being the chief survivalist and healer of the brigade, such an unworthy specimen you are," teased his sister. When he glared back at her, she shrugged her shoulders and resumed. "Well, such skills have their merits do they not? No one else knows how to survive on which roots and plants, nor what poisons and healing qualities can be found in any territory," offered Vadma gently.

Vad smiled and shook his head. "Well I am also the best slave catcher as well, you always forget that," he admonished.

"Yes heheheheh hahahahahahahah, how could anyone who isn't a male forget that!" Giggled Vadma. It was infectious it seemed because Vad joined her, pulling themselves together to rest their shoulders and heads together.

As they giggled beside one another, the tall female punched her brother's shoulder briskly as she adjusted her bare legs and paws, her own kilt cloth shaking to the side as she removed her belt. Much like Vad she laid her ammo pouches and grenade bandoliers to the ground aside her own cot as well. Vadma grinned as she saw her brother look away with a blush from her now bared sex.

"Oh come on Vad, we've seen each other more bare than this in our lifetime," she quipped towards him.

"Yeah but you're my sister, the last thing either of us need is to get caught staring at each other's...Privates." He whispered.

"Not like it does much for you anyway, pole smoker," mocked the female gently, giving her brother a smirk. "Just what kind of Tail-raiser gets turned on by their female sisters bared sex? You perv!" Vadma groaned as she shifted her legs to allow her cloth to cover her fully again.

Vadasz smirked back and gently placed his paw over her bare left leg and gently cupped her muscled limb. "The kind who, while enjoying it from the rear, is open to playing with anyone who catches my eye," he swooned, gently running his claws through the fur of her legs, making the female arch and shiver.

"Not fair, nympho!" hissed Vadma.

"You're the one who's getting wet from this, if what I'm smelling is correct," he chortled back to her. She flipped him about the head with her fingers in response, but recoiled when a small spurt of blood squirted from his neck instead.

Vad released her as soon as he caught the worried look on her face. "It's all cool sis, no harm meant," he assured her. Then noticed the blood on her fingers and groaned. "FUCK, this wound!" He hissed while gritting his fangs.

Vadasz had come out of the fight a little worse for wear. Even then he was aware of how lucky he had been more than a lot of other Ransackers. The only exception was a single scarred cut across his neck, where an Aroogar blade had nearly sliced his throat. He pawed at the mark, feeling the cut healing gently, but still capable of bleeding when probed.

Reaching down to the floor and into the pouches dangling along his belt, Vadasz pulled out a series of small green and red leaves. Next came a small little corked bottle filled with bluish jelly like liquid. He spread some of the liquid in his paw, the substance bubbling and frothing like soap, then crumbled the dry leaves until they were tattered and mixed them with the soapy liquid. Grunting he lathered a helping of the leaf and jelly like soap along the wound, tensing. "Sorry...a bit cold," he reassured his sisters still worried gaze.

"I wish I'd learned to do that," muttered Vadma enviously. Swishing her long braided tail about her thighs. For her size, she was a lithe and thin female. Wiry and well built, like her brother. Her muscled arms flexed as she felt along the tribalistic tattoos burned into her fur with silver ink.

Vadasz grinned, lovingly staring at his sister's exotic tattoo structure, blended all across her arms and chest. As he admired her body art, he continued to hold the jelly along his neck wound. "If you had signed up with me, you could have. The Angar'rai were quite adamant that we should get as much diverse training as possible." He smiled as he felt the numbing effect of the natural remedy through the wound.

"I would have, if I'd seen it available, especially with the Sand lickers footing the bill," Vadma harped. "But I spent most of my time with advanced weapons and combat training, and with just some slight mathematics," she quipped.

"Yes, and the fact you can blow the head off a swamp rat at a thousand yards with that rifle of yours is quite the skill too," He admired.

The weapon in question was sitting upright beside Vadma, drying out from the rain. The carbine sniper rifle had been designed for easy and light carry and mobility, shortened to a carbine fit to make it more accessible. The weapon however, was customized to be equipped and or interchanged with various attachments to increase its accuracy and range, and effectiveness. These various attachments were housed among her pouches and bags.

Reaching to her hip, Vadma unhooked a small holster pouch that contained a sawn off double barreled hand cannon, and laid it on top of the rest of her gear.

"Yeah but this is the thing that gets so heavy sometimes. At least your carbonized crossbow is light." She answered. Nodding to the sleek and shining crossbow laying on its side beside the fire. The quiver pouch he carried with it was filled with adjustable and removable explosive heads, poisoned tips, fire bolts and other assorted bolt classes. It lay there with the bow, sitting on top.

Vad reached into his personal pouch and pulled out a bearskin wine flask, hefting it to his mouth as he took a long sip. Suddenly seizing as he spat the mixture out into the fire, causing a small scale of flame to shoot upwards startling the others.

"BLAH! Those god damned Zarroffs!" He snarled. "They can get those Angar'rai, to give us scientific backing, weapons, and training, but a decent bit of alcohol? OH NO! That's where we need to skimp!" He growled.

"As if this day isn't bad enough, and now we can't even get drunk on this piss!" Flopping back down on his backside, he glanced over at his sister and shirked from her annoyed look.

"What?" He whispered, shrugging his shoulders.

"For someone who is so worried about losing rank and drawing attention, you aren't being very subtle," she replied.

"When it comes to booze sis, everyone is allowed to be frustrated," reassured the male gently. "Hold on, I think I got some fresh cherries here, that might give it a bit more sweeter flavor," he began, digging into his foraging bag.

"Before that, come here, we need to get ready for rest, you know the routine," adhered Vadma sweetly.

Glancing over, the silver dire watched his sister for a second.

"You know, there's a reason why I prefer listening to your routine then moms," he cheered. "You ask, she bellows." He laughed.

"She has to bellow, otherwise you don't listen," struck back Vadma. "The reason you follow my words is because you know I'll actually tan your hide if I have to get cross," she warned. Smirking as she saw her brother gulp and whine before coming to rest beside her once more.

Both wolves began to strip themselves of their body armor, a cobbled patch-work of leather and metal plates. First came their chest armor, then the leather plated greaves and braces about their arms and thighs.

Vadasz's only clothing now aside from the green and black kilt cloth, was his leather and wool lined black vest, and a pair of leather shoulder holsters, holding his pair of long nosed bolt revolvers. Parts of his muscled bare chest peeked out from beneath the vest, which he began to unbutton as well.

Beside him, Vadma was naked from the waist up, dropping the small clothed vest holding her series of throwing knives. Aside from that it was evident that she wore nothing behind her body armor but her bare furred breasts. Her lithe stomach was as equally bare except for the small little ruby colored belly piercing kept hidden there. She flashed her gaze over to her brother who looked away again, but offered her a small cloth to wipe the smoke and grime from her body. Her fur was still completely stained from the lasting battle. Then again they hadn;t much time over the last few days of pure fighting to clean themselves up.

She accepted the cloth graciously and dabbed it along her neck, then further down. Her breasts were actually quite firm and large, but not too massive. They were just enough to keep her body snug behind her armor.

The sight of the two half-naked wolves wasn't that alarming for the rest of the group. It wasn't uncommon for Wogtal to be naked and bare together, but it was different with siblings. There was the risk of something untoward being assumed, which was not supported in any tribe. Still Vad and Vadma, while happy to tease each other, never broke that taboo.

Vad had even by now also removed his vest fully, and then his holsters. laying both of them calmly beside the rest of his gear. His chest fully bared and rippled. It was clear that he had benefited from hunting and scouting in the wild. He was lithe, built and capable, a fine specimen from being weaned on survival his whole life.

Most Wogtal ignored science and technology, not to mention plants, and medicine. They traded it all for the supposed superiority of brute strength and raw power. To undertake scientific teachings and carry advanced weapons beyond basic weapons or even on occasion the old school spear and arrow, was unusual for a Wogtal. But not Boers' brigade.

Boers rolled from his side to his knees again as he finished listening in on the twins. Their words sparked a part of him, which reflected back on his unit's purpose.

The Ransackers had been a special elite unit, hand trained and taught by the Angar'rai fire wolves. The Wogtal's "allies," and benefactors who had bestowed the war mechs and other technology to them, to help in their war with the Aroogar. Weapons, technology, medicine and other scientific training had been greatly undertaken by every member of the brigade. They had even brought in some veteran warriors who had excelled in the different fields.

Their squad had been intended to be deployed for special missions and dangerous situations, especially with wolf tribes other than the Aroogar. Vadasz had been right though, the purpose of the brigade, the training they had all received. All mattered little now, as most of the Ransackers were dead.

"Praetor! I've finally repaired the sanitizer, we can start processing freshwater now YA!" Came the loud and fast paced voice of a hulking female Wogtal, who suddenly had popped up behind him.

Almost starting, Boers saved himself from falling over the side of the mech. Steadying his position with one hand while he flicked his neck and gaze back to the Wogtal head looking over to him.

"Thank you, uhhhh?" he questioned, forgetting the tall female's name.

"Septra Praetor. From the Geiger pack," she notified, saluting with one huge wolf mitt. She was taller than any of the rest of the Wogtal, clearly almost seven and a half feet! Her body was also very evidently muscled. He could see her bare shoulders through her engineering vest and designated uniform, and the muscles flexing there were quite a sight. It was clear that she was half holding herself up by her paw alone on the mech.

"Oh right, Septra...Engineer class right." He asked politely. Geiger pack dires were not known for taking verbal abuse well, especially not when they were a giant like her. Boers had no intention of setting off the tall female. If she was from the Geiger pack, that also meant she was a hybrid. They were the last surviving blends of Dire and Fire wolf heritage. At least before the new alliance had been established.

Septra nodded in return. "Yes sir, First class, Scorponok team!" She smiled then stared straight at him. He had no choice but to stare back at her as well. Her pelt was primarily rust colored with streaks of snow white fur and black splotches down her chest and sides. It was an exotic sight for the pure silver dire to share. Most of the coloring of his pack-mates were either shades of dark or glaring bright. Yet the colors were never as exciting as one would hope. Her pelt was something he did not expect.

Her brown syrup-like eyes made a part of Boers stomach clench hard when she stared at him. His thoughts turned rather lewd as he imagined the tall wolfess in a very inappropriate position. He hadn't had sex in weeks, and now there was a giant ass female with lovely eyes and a build like a goddess staring at him? Still, Zaroff customs meant he was forbidden from interacting with a subordinate, sexually at least, during war time.

"Anything else you'd like to report then, ugh engineer?" Inquired Boers quizzically, raising an eyebrow. The female Wogtal stared at him, unable to speak for a few seconds, before she shook her head and admonished her silliness.

"Forgive me Praetor, but no, there is nothing else. I just wanted to inform you we can now start filtering water safely," Septra replied as she blushed. Without another word she immediately began to hunker down the mech's side.

Boers blinked and then swung himself so he could watch her go. She was a tall girl, but not an overly muscled powerhouse as some of the others. She didn't have the bulk of Felder, who looked like a furry tank. Nor did she have Boer's own level of broad shoulders. For her height her size was well proportioned.

Yet despite her size and build she was exceptionally lithe in movement. She demonstrated this duality as she arched and carried herself around the mechanical limbs of the mech. Almost cat-like as she swayed and slithered over the metal shrapnel. Septra was clearly a class in herself.

The Praetor found himself wondering how someone like her went into military Engineering? A warrior of her size and evident strength, would be far more suited to being a front line bruiser, or a heavy stormtrooper than a bomb-maker and tech head. He knew of the Angar'rai's adept knowledge of minerals, which fueled their technological empire and trade, but he wondered how that transcribed to Septra's Clan.

Then again Geiger pack was found on the farthest eastern slopes of the mountains, half way down, in the hill lands and valleys, just before you hit the deserts and land of the Angar'rai. They may be closer to the Angar'rai than the Wogtal in terms of technological advance. There also was a long history of bribing and threats from Lady Shiva and the Zarroff ruling class, to try and bring the Geiger pack into the fold. Boers had always suspected the new alliance with the Angar'rai had been the actual deciding factor for Geiger to join up. They were far closer to them than the Zaroffs.

Boers continued to watch with some respect as Septra began to whistle and hum out-loud, breaking the reserved silence of the pack group. Both Halot and Felder glared at her. She was not an alpha, but was low tier-mid ranked. For her to be whistling and humming and making a sight of herself was uncustomary for the other two higher ranked males. Still, Septra didn't care.

One feature of the Geiger pack that made them so difficult to deal with was the fact that the Geiger's didn't care about rank the same way the other Wogtal packs did. Part of their Angar'rai heritage was the lack of rank as an important factor in their social circle. It was instead strength and strength alone that set them apart. Someone of Septra's size and strength could afford to make other wolves uncomfortable. Part of Boers appreciated that about her. Rank was important, but it often got in the way of doing what was necessary sometimes.

He watched as the tall hybrid made her way around the fire and to stand beside another smaller shaking female wolf. Meena, Boers sister. She made quite a sight, being smaller than any of the Wogtal there.

"Your brother is quite the size for a wolf," admired Septra as she padded alongside the smaller female. She clapped a hard but friendly paw on Meena's shoulder, backing off as the smaller female shivered and shook like a quivering leaf.

"Ohh Sorry Meena, Ya!" Apologized Septra bashfully. It was strange to see the amazon wolfess deal with embarrassment. Her voice also carried an eastern accent to it, and the way it carried through the body, made the smaller female shiver every time she heard it.

"N-No p-problem, S-Septra, it's only my nervous system, it's never been quite right." She peeped with a bit of sadness. Her pure white fur shook and shivered like rolling snow banks as she kneeled and fiddled with the communication box at her feet. She was the brigade's chief communications officer and ran the radio operations diligently.

"He is always so reserved, ya?" Asked the amazonian wolfess gently. "It intrigues me quite a bit," she added.

"Boers has always kept mostly to himself," finished Meena, using her small paws to flip the tiny knobs and wires inside the box. "Our father used to say he had inherited too much of our mother's shyness to be a real wolf." She shook her head and spat at the memory. "He always said such horrid stuff, and far worse about me," she finished. "My body hasn't always worked perfectly, which is not a shining example of good breeding among our clan."

"My own father was prone to drink and gambling," reassured Septra. "Don't fret Meena, they can't all be the gallant heroes like the stories our Omma's tell us before bed then, can they ya?" The tall female laid another soft comforting hand over Meena's shoulder and squeezed her with compassion.

The two females made quite the sight, one small, the other giant, both pressed together. Meena groaned and she felt another involuntary shiver retching through her body, causing her to lean against the box as her legs gave out. "Damn it!" She hissed softly. Relying on Septra's hulking legs and strength to grab and hold onto. It was truly the best support she could ask for.

"Why are you so interested in Boers anyway?" She questioned. "Someone of your caliber could hook up with any wolf in any of the tribes," inquired Meena gently. Twitching a bit as a spring of jealousy passed through her. It wasn't fair sometimes that others got to be normal, why was she always a twitching, miswired nerve racked freak? Septra however, only groaned a bit as she hunched over to work on the filtration filter, her towering form hunkering over the device as she got to her knees.

"To be honest, in my tribe, there is nothing exotic at all," started the Gieger female. "Everyone's the same size, colored the same for the most part, and everyone has the same strength...It gets boring." Turning to glance up at the mech where the silver dire sat looking down, Septra blushed.

"Your brother though, he is different. His fur is different, his eyes are different, his demeanor is different, it's...Alluring," moaned Septra, feeling a twinge of arousal pass through her nethers at the thought of the dominant praetor.

Meena listened and then felt a bit guilty at her previous stint of jealousy. Septra was like any other female, just waiting to experience some fun and passion without giving into the mundane nature of existence. Was that so hard to feel some empathy for?

The snow white female shuddered as her thoughts quickly drifted to what her life could have been like if Boers hadn't insisted she become his communications tsar. Inferior breeding like hers was not rewarded well in the Zaroff clan, and it wasn't assured that there were any who would give her the consideration she needed without him. She may not have even gotten this far had her brother not looked out for her. She owed him.

Lifting her paw up Meena clapped Septra about the shoulder and drew her down to whisper in her ear. "My brother may act reserved, but it's his chief defense, his reserved act and his shyness are a mask, behind that...That's where the real intrigue lies," she advised the tall female.

The bigger wolf needed nothing further than that to set her hopes up. Septra just smiled back at her and gave a fanged grin. "Ohh Ya, that sounds very mysterious, you Zarroff's know how to set a mood," she chuckled.

"Streagar...Not Zaroff!" Insisted Meena. "The Zarroffs are nothing but over-hyped pimps who wouldn't know a real good time from their stuck up bullshit!" growled the small fem, her body shaking with anger. Her usual pleading amber eyes were glazed with red ire. She barely noticed the nervous rapid twitching of her ears as she clenched her little fists together. "Please don't mention that name again okay?" She pleaded with Septra. The Gieger female only nodded silently.

Meena returned to her communications box and glared at it, as it suddenly sparked at her. "These freaking radios keep breaking down in this low-land atmosphere!" Chastised the little fem. "And if it's not the prairie air malfunctioning the box, it's the storms and altitude back home choking off the signal." She moaned. Wiping her sweat covered brow she pushed on, and began to pull the power cell from the radio, so as not to electrocute herself.

"I can take a look at it for you later. After I've got this filtration unit installed," stated Septra cooly. "It could be that some of the grounding wires got frayed in the battle." Offered the tall wolfess as she was ratcheting the filtration unit into the small dirty puddle that had formed in a shell crater.

"No, if it was the grounding wires, I would have been shocked any time I touched it," replied Meena thoughtfully. "I think the power cell is cracked and leaking excess energy into the wiring," she offered, pulling the power cell fully out and holding it up to inspect it with the firelight. Right there along the soft glass casing was a long thin crack, several ounces of golden sap like fluid dripping down the side.

"That would do it," Spectra confirmed, watching as Meena threw the cracked cell onto the ground. "Oh there's backup power cells in the maintenance box over by those supply crates over there ya," she stated. Turning back to her work.

"Thanks!" Called Meena as she made her way over to the crates and pulled the black maintenance box out from behind it. As the small Wogtal began looking for the backup cells, she was started by a loud and piercing caw from behind her. Her body spasmed in mild shock as she nearly blacked out with the panic that lanced through her system. Turning herself around she glared and spotted the culprit.

There, hopped up on a small customized wooden perch, was a semi large bird of prey. A mountain flacon with silver wings and speckled feathers. The bird's head was covered with a special helmet that allowed the eye holes to be opened or closed, a large red plume dangling from the top. It was perched hunched and ready, eyeholes closed, with a small gold chain fastened to the bird's leg. The corresponding end was latched to the perchs' rounded hilt. Its other leg carried a small leather pouch that was fastened with a metal bracelet. It was actually quite the impressive messenger bird.

Meena however, was not so impressed with him. "Dammit Sight, you nearly gave me a heart attack!" She tutted judgmentally. Shaking her paws to throw off the congealing sweat from her panicked reaction.

"He's hungry, that's what he is!" Called Halot from behind her. The tall old wolf smirked as he watched the little strange fem deal with the falcon. "We got those birds in the mid-valleys too, they're always hungry." He advised. Laughing at Meena's stern look.

"Well he doesn't need to to startle me half to death," insisted Meena hotly.

"If you're so worried about all the maintenance with the box and the bird, you should choose one over the other," smirked Halott. He pointed to Meena's communication box, then back to the Falcon. "You have to lug both that huge box and that squawking parrot wherever you go. So just make a choice and pick one."

Meena scoffed at the idea. "Sorry, but it's the brigade's policy, we carry both low tech and high tech, in case one fails and we need the other." Turning to gently pet and caress Sight, the small Wogtal softened her scowl. "Besides, I've had Sight since he was an egg, we've been together forever." She whispered gently, petting the cuddling bird.

"Ya, it's true, she's the only one that little beast is ever loyal and amenable to." Added Septra confidently. Watching Meena stroke the raptor while she palmed a spare power cell she'd dragged from the maintenance box.

Halott waved them off and returned to watching the fire. Meena gave him one last look to make sure the conversation was done, before she picked the falcon up and placed him on her shoulder. She unclipped the gold chain from the raptor's leg, and pocketed the power cell, bringing both her and Sight back to the command radio. Getting on her knees she pulled a screwdriver and began unfastening the cell case. As she placed the new power cell in the casing, the falcon began to preen and rub into her neck. She ignored his preening and affection for the moment as she fiddled with the radio receiver. Once more without realizing she shivered despite the warmth of the fire.

Boers mouth frowned from his perch on top of the mech as he saw Meena shivering and twitching. He knew it was not from the cold but from bad wiring in her body combined with memory and trauma. There wasn't much he could do for her about that. Wogtal did not believe much in medicine, either for the body or the mind. Whatever could have been done for her back then, the chance for it to work had long since passed.

It was one of the many regrets and angers Boers held for his people's stupidity. They had long allowed other tribes and wolf groups to advance ahead of them, leaving them far behind. The grasser and sand licking fire wolves had grown in massively large numbers.

To get even seventy wolves for the Ransacker brigade had taken years, and they had had to pull from multiple packs and older generations to make a bulk of their forces. Within several long days of brutal fighting, that entire brigade had been wiped out mostly. At least three or four generations of loss in three to four days. There was some kind of macabre poeticness from that, if Boers had the stomach to question it. Meanwhile even with the whole Aroogar contingent eliminated, there were far more grassers left to take their place.

In comparison to the prairie wolves and the fire wolves of the sands and desert, the Wogtal were effectively savage primitives. Backwards and contained in their small band tribes, held up in their mountains. The Aroogar and Angar'rai however, had since managed to become the dominant civilizations on Farkash.

If his people had been more adept with technology and science, especially medicine, his sister (and many others) could have been spared much pain. His warriors may have had a better chance of survival, and wouldn't be lying dead in a mass grave of carnage just a ways away from him.

As Boers gazed back to the battlefield as he growled a silent prayer for his fallen. They had deserved far better than to die here. On the outskirts of a swamp, over worthless grasslands that didn't matter. Far from home, a home that they would never see again, and never again set foot in.

Dropping from the mech, Boers landed crouched on all fours, absorbing the fall with his strength. A collection of Wogtal eyes flickered to him as he stood and strode among them, heading to rest between the twins and Felder with the little Fa'val female beside him.

As Boers pried his way between Felder and the twins, he waved off their salutes and sat between them with plop. Sitting between the two large dires, it showed off his own height, at six-foot-seven. They made a striking trio. Three giant Wogtal, two silver, one dark gray.

Boers glanced to his right side, and caught the sight of Felder staring at him. The praetor really had to lean back to truly appreciate the size of the other wolf.

Felder was a well above average Wogtal male. Standing six-foot nine and dark furred, with even darker eyes. A towering wolf with even more towering muscles. It was not hard to see why he was a heavy shock troop. Despite his menacing demeanor, he kept an overly protective hand about the small sea wolf nestled beside him.

Boers was less interested in the fa'val, having little time for comfort slaves. Still he had noticed the heavy wolf's attention and attraction leaning more towards her than usual over the last few weeks. Whatever the reasons, it was not going to stop Boer from indulging some relaxation.

Flipping attention to the opposite side, he was just in time to catch Vad beginning to grind crushed cherry justice into the wine flask at his feet. It was time for the commander to abuse his position somewhat.

"That's enough for you boy," growled Boers firmly, taking the flask from Vad before he could sip it and lifted it instead to his own lips. He swigged a good batch of the cherry spiced wine. Noting that Vad had had the right idea. The cherry juice made the bitter draught taste sweeter. As he chugged another gulp, he ignored Vadasz glowering at him. The young warrior clearly wasn't happy, but knew better than to argue with the praetor. Several former experiences ending in a rather embarrassing head lock, had taught him the error of those ways.

Vadma grinned and laughed gently, prodding her brother in the shoulder. "Praetor got your tongue?" She teased, her honey-like voice dripping with sarcasm. Her brother glared at her and then glared back at the officer.

"Leave him be corporal," warned Boer, focusing his attention on her. "The pair of you have been drinking more than your fair share of wine all day." Gripping the flask he nodded towards Halott, before tossing it over to the older wolf. The veteran nodded in thanks and began to swig the wine heartily.

Vadma's grin dropped at the rebuke from her commanding officer, and she lowered her eyes and hugged her knees to her chest. She was reluctant to admit it out loud, but even then, it was known among the brigade that she valued Boers judgment and value of her. Very highly.

"Nothing much else to do after that fucking shit-show today!" Hissed Vadasz dejectedly breaking the silence. "An entire battalion wiped out and for what? They're all just...dead." he whined. Looking in the direction of the battlefield below them, even if there was mech in the way.

"Get past it young one," ordered Boers gently, reaching over to put a large comforting paw on the other male's shoulder. "Death is the way of things, better learn to accept it. You're alive, we're alive, and that's what matters now!" It was a harsh lesson, but one that the silver Wogtal had learned himself fairly young. It was also a fact of war that had become all too real, and had to be dealt with.

Boers wouldn't be surprised if the battle of Hadrian Heights turned out to be the bloodiest and most costly battle of the entire war. Before today he had never heard of an entire Aroogar contingent and almost an entire Wogtal battalion being wiped out before in open conflict.

While experienced soldiers, it was clear that Vad and most of the others had never experienced this level of bloodshed or loss before. Understanding such implications even for stoic Wogtal, it seems, was to be harder than anticipated.

"The boys right on that!" Glowered Halott from across the fire. He took another long swig of the wine, before getting to his feet. "The only thing left to do right now, is to get drunk...and blow off some steam." Groaned the older warrior, making his way over towards Felder and the small Kurma. The dark eyes of the older wolf sized up the small comfort wolf and he grinned as he licked his lips at the dirty thoughts of how she could help him loosen up.

Several of the dires eyes turned to look at the Fa'val slave, where she was joined at the hip with the tall Wogtal heavy. Kurma was smaller than all of the Wogtal, at only five-foot-eight. She was lean and lanky for a female. Like most of her species, her hands and feet were slightly webbed, her elongated toes clenching now in the dirt. She was darkish brown down her back and sides with a light gray patchwork down her muzzle, front, and belly.

As she suddenly noticed the sets of eyes staring at her, Kumra's own soft blue eyes went wide and looked down, unable to meet any of thor gazes, as she had been trained.

She tried to ignore their stares as they glossed over her rather slender but revealing little body, and her quite large breasts. Unlike the Wogtal, the Fa'val wolfess was not allowed to wear clothes, and had to go naked and uncovered.

Halott took this all in as he continued to advance on her and Fedler, not caring that the other male was glaring daggers at him with pure black eyes.

Boers groaned realizing what was going to occur. Halott was a veteran of many seasons. Despite his older age, he had excelled in the advanced and scientific training available to the unit. He was tough, bitter, and kind of an asshole. Gruff and opinionated like many old timers, but one with experience. That said, the old warrior had a habit of outliving his welcome, and using up whatever good will he could obtain.

The old wolf was silver-gray and carried a pointed pair of leering green eyes. The most notable thing about him was his fang deformity, which curled out of the top of his mouth and rested on his chin.

As he strode towards the resting Fa'val, He was suddenly stopped in his tracks by a low growl from Felder. "Back off Halott, before I bite that shriveled thing you call a dick off and spit it back in your face!" The warning was harsh and vivid, but it carried weight as Felder bared his fangs dangerously.

The rest of the group stiffened, some with hackles raised, at that. It was common for infighting between different tribes, but baring fangs was a direct instigator to violence. Boers groaned again, and quickly reached down to cock the hammer of his bolt pistol, just in case.

Halott however, had stopped in his tracks and was glaring at the younger warrior. The older Wogtal was nearly forty-nine years old, with several decades of fighting and experience in battle under his brow. He was still a formidable fighter. He even seemed to ignore the challenge of Fedler's fangs.

Still, one reason for that could be that Felder was a giant of a dire. Far taller than Halott's six foot seven height, and several seasons into his own prime. He also had the sharpened teeth and claws of a young adult, whereas Halott's tooth deformity made biting and his fangs no longer a preferable option.

"You can't hog the little snout warmer to yourself, Felder!" Growled Halott angrily. "She's assigned to the whole brigade, not just you. And I want some of her!"

Felder growled back and got to his feet, quickly with a grunt. "You don't come near her. If you value your own dick, old one!" Hissed the younger warrior. "She's not well, and you won't break her anymore then you and those other animals have done so already!" Gripping his fists, Felder flexed his knuckles and claws aggressively.

"If you think that family of yours is going to protect you on this, Felder, you're wrong," warned Halott deviously. "They may be the Zarrofs prized advisors, but they can't help you in this matter. This is pack law!"Grunted the old one.

"I joined this battalion the same as you Halott. To prove myself worthy of my family's name," stated Felder. "Unlike you though, I haven't wasted my years of potential by being an asshole. So get this clear...You do not outrank me, we both rank the same. So if you want her, come and get her, but if you do, I will rip your heart out, be assured!" Warned the younger warrior ferally.

Both wolves growled and hissed at the other, and Boers was about to intervene, when a soft sound interrupted the heated and tense exchange.

All eyes turned to Felder's side, where the little Fa'Val slave girl had suddenly made a sharp whimper.

Boers felt a pang of sympathy for the small wol slave as he turned to gaze upon her. Halot was not a cruel wolf, not compared to Evaan;s and Max, but he was rough. Like many of the Wogtal, he saw slaves as free range with little care for their feelings or their will. As such sexual encounters could get quite visceral. There was a worry that too much might brain-fry the little female.

Kurma had been a member of the sea wolf tribes. There she had been captured by the Ransackers on their last raid to the shores of the east ocean. Her foraging party had been overrun and captured by the Wogtal, and sent back home for processing. There Kurma had been assigned to be the Ransackers comfort wolf...Essentially a sex slave for the soldiers.

Zarroff's did not like their hunters and soldiers focussed more on sexual matters then fighting when in the field. As such it was against custom for warriors or hunters during war time to engage sexually with one another. It was belived that such sexual relations built bonds that would interfere with the mission and orders from the command. Still, soldiers needed outlets for sexual frustration, as such comfort wolves were assigned to every war party, raiding group, and unit. It Kept the potential hindrance of personal relationships out of the mix, and allowed the warriors to blow off their steam and repression.

Boers had a hard time remembering what the little wolf had been like before she'd arrived in camp. She had been one of many scared and angry faces, among the catch they had captured that day. He couldn't quite remember if she had even said anything to him or the others before she was sent back to the slave maker. Before she was processed, mentally scarred, then sent back to them for the final bout of breaking. If she hadn't been a fully broken toy when she had returned to them, the play from the soldiers had finished the job.

She had been rather popular with them when she had been reintroduced to the brigade. The harder more brutal wolves had taken full advantage, and she had quickly been broken down and broken into her new duties. The final strings forced upon her to make her a willing and dancing puppet for their entertainment. Now she was an adept little sex slave. She offered herself freely, with no resistance or hesitance. Those traits and been beaten and fucked out of her.

Kurma meeped gently once more and calmly brushed her head into Felder's side, letting the tall warrior know it was okay.

Felder looked surprised and then down at the Fa'val who leaned up and stroked the long braid that dangled from his mane gently. It was long enough to drape down his massive chest, within reach of her paw. As if in return, he leaned down to cup her face gently.

Boers found it a rather strange sight to see such a giant of a wolf bending at the waist so he could let a wolf a third his size pet his mane and fur. Kurma however, continued to say nothing except giving a slight stroke along the giant wolf's ear. Whatever that meant or symbolized, it seemed to have worked as Felder's body stood down and he lowered himself back to his knees, glaring, but doing nothing more.

Pulling a small blanket off from her shoulder Kurma revealed her naked body and shook her fur gently as she got to her small webbed feet. She was a tender looking little thing, with soft features and eyes, and she seemed to even stagger a bit as she made her way over to the older dire.

One thing that could be said for Kurma, was she had an air of bravery about her. Something one didn't expect from someone in her position. As she made her way over to Halott, Boers had to admire the gaul she had. Watching her as she dropped to her knees before the old wolf. In another impressive feat she adeptly reached forward and began peeling aside his kilt cloth and greaves to get at his hardening prick. Soon the huddled space of the campfire was filled with the sounds of sucking and slight groans, as the little wolf blew the tall dire.

"Ah for the love of Cerberus!" Moaned Vad covering his eyes. "Bad enough to not be drunk, but having to see Halott get his dick cleaned is not my kind of night cap," lamented the tall warrior.

"Speak for yourself brother," moaned Vadma. The Twins groaned together as they flipped on their cots and tried to shut out the sounds of sex.

Septra also rolled her eyes passively, and fiddled her paws together instead. For such a tall behemoth of a female to be twiddling her paws, it was a comical sight. She was far more content to simply sit and secretly watch Boers gently with a slight look of hunger on her face. Or at least what she thought was secretly.

Boers himself was not unaware of her attention and flipped his leg open to give the tall hybrid a flash of his sheath and large rounded balls, dangling below there. He smirked as he saw her shoot up and began to pant from her muzzle and wipe her brow as she stiffened at the flash he had given her.

Boers' thoughts were suddenly interrupted by the nagging reminder of the Zaroff's orders, blaring obnoxiously throughout his head. While it was usually fairly accepted that inter-sexual relationships, sometimes even with multiple partners, was common among ranks and files, it was different in war time. There was a belief that even a shred of romantic or physical relationships with a subordinate or a fellow soldier could form a compromising bond. Something that could interfere with duty and the mission's goals.

Hence the need for comfort wolves. Most Wogtal never considered slaves as anything other than livestock. No chance of personal connections or compromising their focus with a slave. Boers personally thought that it all was total bullshit. The comfort slaves, emotional complications, BAH! It was just the Zarrof's blind adherence to power over everything else. Still, they were orders. Stupid, stupid orders.

Felder meanwhile, had since sat back down and was content to growl gently. He kept his eyes focused directly on Kurma's actions. His body remained tight and ready to spring if the older dire did anything to hurt her.

Boers got up and flicked his eyes towards Meena he flashed her a heated look which signaled to follow him. He flickered his gaze over towards where Vadma lay on her cot. Meena nodded and scurried over to the sleeping wolfess and gently prodded her awake. Vadma glared at the other female until the communications wolf grabbed Vadma's cheek softly and pushed it until she could see Boers staring at them. Vadma was quick on the take, and she soon hefted herself off the cot and followed Meena who was trying to look away from the other female bare chest. Vadma's large breasts heaved and jiggled as she walked, the air causing her nipples to peak. Meena, now walking beside her, shielded her eyes, but Vadma only grinned and pushed forward.

She loved to make the other wolves flustered with her body. It aroused her, but also let her know where there was weakness to exploit.

The two females followed the large dire male, as they all abandoned the warmth of the fire to go behind some crates of supplies. There behind the crates lay a small corner with a makeshift cot made from a survival sleeping bag and a bunch of grass and straw. Next to it was a small wooden box. This was to be Boers makeshift quarters for the night. As the Dires funneled into the small enclosure, he sat down on the cot and glanced at the two females waiting for him.

"Orders...Sir?" Inquired Vadma quizzically, glancing over at Meena who had her eyes firmly planted on the floor. Vadma had never seen Meena ever act very straightforward, if anything she acted more like a slave than a Wogtal female. Still she was quite adept at communications, and being the praetor's sister meant she must have some strength, even if it didn't always show.

It then struck Vadma, suddenly standing here with the small wolfess before her, that everytime she or her brother were around Meena, the communications officer got tongue tied and always distracted. Never did she engage with either scouts.

"Keep an eye on Felder and Halott corporal,"Began Boers, looking the two females over with tired eyes. "The very last thing I need is any more of my warriors killing each other," growled the commander. "Make sure Halott does not hurt Kurma, if he does...Felder will kill him."

"Are you sure he would resort to such...Behaviour?" Meeped Meena beside Vadma's towering form.

"She's right Praetor, even with them both at same rank, any fight to the death would be highly risky and against customs," added Vadma. She looked over at Meena to see the small female looking away from her.

"Which customs are those?" Snapped the silver wolf. Drawing the omega's attention back to him. "Felder comes from our pack, but Halot comes from the Kharkov pack, like you and Vad, Vadma," he insisted. "There are no rules for this, there are no universal customs we can follow." He shook his shaggy mane and put his paws on his head to try and think through the mess they were entangled in.

"Do you think Felder would risk losing his rank, and risk offending his family and their reputation like that, if he was to kill Halot?" Puzzled Vadma gently. To many of the high ranks, it was inconceivable to do any kind of attention that would guarantee the loss of rank and privilege. She could not fathom how a career soldier like Felder could willingly throw away his life and his importance on something that felt trivial in comparison.

"I think that the moron has gone and fallen in love with the wretch," moaned Boers dejectedly, trying to mask his envy with disgust. "So yes, if Halot harms her I have no doubt, rank or no rank, that Fleder will kill him. So we need to keep them separated!" Barked the dire gruffly.

He shifted on his cot to place his paws over his drooping muzzle and face. A dull ache burned through his eyes and echoed across his temple. His body swaying along with his blurring sight.

Vadma witnessed her commander's obvious distress as he hunched over, trying to block out the creeping drowsiness seeping through and waving body. His head swung back and forth heavily on his arms, as he kept catching himself out of sleep. The Delta didn't need any more encouragement to give him his rest, and decided to dismiss herself.

"At your command, Praetor!" Saluted Vadma before turning on her heels and heading off back to the fire to keep order. She was careful to pass Meena without touching her, well aware of her seizure fits. She found the small female to be very flaky, though talented, and kind. Kinder and more compassionate than most Wogtal usually were. Which at times Vadma was glad for. The Praetor was being left in good and caring paws with his sister. She gave one final look towards Meena nodding her head in acknowledgement of the other, before heading off, back to keep an eye on the situation.

Meena waited until the tall scout had left before she let out a soft breath. She hadn't even realized she'd been holding it until after.

"You need to tell them sometime..."She began, staring at her brother.

"They will know when the time is right, but not now," answered Boers gently, reaching his hand up and offering it to his sister. She took it gently and he pulled her into his lap and cuddled her to his side. "For now, I need them to focus on surviving."

Meena gently stroked his arm, liking the way he hugged her when they were alone. It was the few times he was able to be affectionate and caring with her physically. She knew how strong he felt he needed to be around the others. It didn't leave much room for sibling affection, at least not in their family. So she appreciated when he was able to be the brother she needed.

"They could die without ever knowing. We almost lost everyone just today!" Warned Meena softly. "What happens if you, or they die?" A soft sniffle came from her voice as she held in a sob. Boers ended up holding her tighter and gently licked her ears in sympathy.

"I know...But now is not the right time." He calmed her heaving shoulders with a firm stroke along her back. Petting the smaller female gently. Meena pushed away from him then and smiled in that sad way she often smiled.

"Okay, but remember brother, those who have no one, are mourned by none."

"I still have you, do I not?" He inquired back. She frowned then, but clasped his paw with hers. His big strong paws contrasted with her soft small one.

"Always, but I don't know how long I will survive if you're not there with me." She began. the slight sound of fear slipping into her voice. "Back home, the slave maker already leers at me every time you're not around, and he makes the grossest threats." She finished with a shiver. Her fear of Mustava was very evident. "He says I'm like a slave in all but mind, but he'll finish the job if I wish it," she whispered.

"Do not mention him!" Growled Boers angrily. Even the title of the Zaroff beast made his blood boil. "He won't touch you, even if I'm not there, he won't!" Snarled the silver dire with passion. He would be damned if that monster ever touched his sister the way he touched the slaves. If he did, Boers swore he would find a way to come back from the afterlife to smite the old perverted bastard where he stood. Damn Mustafa Zaroff's eyes and throat to hell.

"You can't always protect everyone, Boers," warned Meena softly.

Do you think you need to remind me, of all wolves, of that?" Moaned Boers dejectedly? "This is not the first time I've lost more than I could ever replace or make amend for. You know that better than anyone sister!" He snarled. "Everyone I lead dies, Meena. It seems to be our family's curse."

"You didn't kill them boers. No one died because you weren't a good Praetor. The Aroogar simply fought like demons. It's a miracle that any of us survived," offered Meena.

"They fought unlike anything I'd ever seen," admitted Boers. It had been actually quite terrifying to see the ferocity of the usual simple grassers. Even with their numbers they had been outgunned, yet they had fought to the last. All of the Dires mechs had been downed and were crippled, and the best and most experienced Wogtal, had died within hours of the initial battle. The rest of the fighting days had been drawn out, with the less experienced sides hacking at each other in a tangled mess. The only experienced troops to survive were with him now.

"Exactly, you were not to blame for this tragedy. What matters now is how we go from here," stated Meena. Stroking her brother's braids while fingering her own.

"For now we must wait here until we can establish contact with the homeland," answered Boers. "I was told to hold these heights, and those orders do not change, even now."

"I got the radio fixed," reassured Meena. "Somethings going on back home though, cause all radio chatter is either coded, or silent,"

"Until we reestablish connection, we remain here. Though I have barely any fighters left to hold the ridge, if the mutts decide to come back in force."

"We'll hold, I know we will," resounded Meena. She pulled out of his lap and stood on her feet eyeing her brother with a fresh and bright smile. "Sight will be needed to be fed, and I want to clean the receiver for the radio box before I retire," she finished. "Do you want me to send him back home?" Inquired the female.

"No, keep him here with us. At the moment, I don't relish losing our only actually reliable method of communication," Boers smirked, winking towards her.

As Meena turned and left, Boers looked back to the small wooden box and opened it. He pulled out a little picture frame and a small electrical lantern. He flickered the lantern on, and used the glow and light to peer at the photo.

It was an old photo, edited in a portrait-like style of his family. His whole family. His father, His mother, his two elder brothers and his two sisters. Out of all of them, only he and Meena remained. Aside from each other, they were more or less alone.

The silver Dire shook his head and pocketed the picture in a pouch about his waist. He couldn't hear the murmur of voices anymore by the fire, but he did hear a rhythmic moaning.

Getting to his feet he stood on his cot and peered over the crates to see what was going on with the others.

The twins had settled on their own beds and were asleep, while Halott had retired from Kurma, and was nursing the wine flask as he tried to nod off. Meena was to the far left feeding the falcon Sight, with her ears pinned down and blushing deeply across her face.

Boers soon saw what she was so embarrassed about as he flickered his gaze towards the fire. Kneeling before the flames was Felder and Kurma; the tall dire had the small sea wolf on all fours, his large chest draped over her back. The pumping sound was the movement of his hips as he clapped his waist to the little wolf's rear, his balls slapping against her straining thighs, as he took her canine style.

The heavy was also determined, it seemed, to not only drown whatever seed Halott had left inside of her, with his own batch, but to replace the older dire scent with his own over her body. He thrust hard and held her tight. The little female below him moaning into her paw as she tried to keep her voice down.

Boers could see the shivering of the fa'val female every time the taller wolf's hips struck her backside, his dick stretching her insides as he rammed in all the way. She was clearly enthralled with the feel of his cock pummeling her insides. Maybe it had to do with the fact he was kissing and licking her cheeks and neck gently. Regardless, the praetor couldn't look away.

It was an odd thing to say, but Boers was not used to experiencing this kind of sex. He had been primarily educated in fucking (or worse) and most of the time his experiences consisted of nothing but hard and rough. Very rarely had he ever encountered a female that made him wish to try it slowly and lovingly. To actually build the emotional bond that the tyrants back home were so cautious of. Because of that It was rare for im to see actual lovemaking before his eyes, and it kept him entranced.

Even when he felt a massive paw press to his chest, he could barely pay attention to anything else. His eyes quickly flickered sideways and caught the smirking muzzle of the giant wolfess Septra, winking at him. A shiver of need and strangely of fear spread through the silver dire from that look in her eyes.

"Septra, we shouldn't dughh..." His muzzle clenched as he tried to dissuade her, but she placed another of her large wolf mitts over his mouth to cut him off. Nodding her head to the lovemaking going on a few yards from them, warning him not to ruin their moment.

With that finished, she started to slide down his body onto her knees, and he felt those large deft paws begin to fiddle with his kilt cloth and armor. Boers marveled at how such a large female could look so small when she was kneeling before him like this. As the dire felt a shiver of excitement straight up though his nerves at the feel of her paws on his body, his mind was screeching at him to end this now!

They had been quite adamant about not letting feelings and weakness cloud judgment. Apparently nothing made one more weaker or susceptible to feelings then sex. Yet it had been quite a while since he had had any sexual conquest, let alone a blowjob from a giantess.

'AH Fuck the Zarroffs and their stupid rules!' Thought Boers savagely. The last three to four days of death had put a lot of things into focus. If he could die at any moment, then he could absolutely get balls deep in this btich's knot pocket. Who was going to say anything? Definitely not him and assuredly not Septra.

The lustful side of his heart soon won out when he felt the large female rub a firm but gentle finger over the base of his tail and then under it. Tracing the line of fur and skin between his underside and the base of his dangling balls. The creeping sheet of sleep that had been making its way over him for the last hour, was suddenly pressed back with the promise of down and out sex.

Any thoughts Boers had about stopping her died on the vine right there. The silver muzzle tightened to keep a soft yip and feminine like moan from escaping it, while her finger claws pressed against his softest and most sensitive parts. Why had he been fighting this for so long? In truth he was tired, frustrated, and the sight of Felder love-screwing the little sexy sea wolf, had actually gotten him very hard. Boers was too far gone now to really care about protocol that made little sense or had little worth in the moment.

He also couldn't deny that Septra was alluring. Her pelt and exoticness aside, he was intrigued with the possibilities given that he didn't need to be as gentle or as reserved with the tall hybrid as with others. There was no potential risk of either of them hurting the other given their mutual size and strength.

She also had pretty eyes, and was one of the most capable females he had ever met. For some reason that mattered to him as much as her beauty.

As Boers felt the night's cool air breathing onto his bare thighs and legs, now that his kilt cloth was removed, he focussed his attention back on Felder and Kurma. The dark dire had pulled the two toned female into a sitting position on his lap. Her back was to his chest as she pumped up and down on his clenching prick. Felder's bare foot paws braced himself in the dirt and grass as his toes clenched. The toe claws digging into the earth. As his feet anchored his body, the tall warrior now pumped and dropped the little female again and again onto his massive member. Her lustful cries and moans fully slipped from her mouth unabashed. Her arms hanging useless by her sides as she was pumped and forced to ride the dire. Forced being a strong word, as she moaned Fleder's name and quietly pleaded with him to keep going.

Boers didn't even register Septra pulling his hardened member into her mouth, that is until he felt the warm confines of her large maw and the slurping tongue kept inside. It launched into action by slithering over his shaft. The tips of her teeth kept away from the sensitive head, but their presence was firm to keep him lodged inside. Her tongue spammed along his dick head while her paws gently massaged his balls. That finger of hers returning deviously back under his tail and gently prodding slowly, while her loving muzzle passionately blew him.

Septra's mouth was hot, wet and fierce. Her sucking was almost as strong as her blowing. It almost felt like she could suck the paint of a barn door if she concentrated hard enough. Her tongue continued to lash the underside of his corona, making sure to lick and lap around his shaft as well as under the soft conical head.

.

The male dire above her kept one hand fiercely clasped to the crate, while the other ventured down and took the hybrid female's ear in his grasp. He softly pinched and stroked her ear before running a calming hand over her bobbing head and slurping muzzle.

The pleasure of her mouth was more than enough to drag his attention away from the couple by the fire. His desires to look at his own partner quickly overwhelmed the envy he felt watching the other two lovers. Septra was quite good at this, better than he would think a little science nerd like her was capable of. Boer's passion had been building for a while now, but his desires had been brooding in his loins for over a month. An entire full moon period of no sex, or loosened passions from his growling balls. He was not going to last more than a single round, this time at least. It wasn't going to be possible this late and with so little release for so long. As such he wanted to finish this the best way possible.

Pushing the female away and on to her butt, he smirked as he watched how her knees arched so she sat cross legged. His gaze wandered over her face. There he saw how her wondrous talented muzzle dripped with the evidence of his growing rapture. Her own brown eyes glared back at him at first, until she saw the glint in his own mismatched eyes.

"Roll over bitch, and present!" Growled Boers fiercely. A burning desire, flourishing in him, telling him to hump his hot seed into the hybrid wolf before him. Below Septra at first looked like she would argue, but then smirked and rolled over until she was laying on top of his cot. It was clear from her expression she realized his intentions.

Her back arched, showing off her crisp and bare vulva and ready snatch. He hadn't realized it at first, but sometime before she had come to him, she had stripped herself. Her bare body was now fully exposed to him, and it was an awed sight. Rusty red and white fur covered in splotches of black that dotted themselves along her belly and neck. A set of bare breasts, quite the pawful and hanging heavy on her chest. Her lean and taut legs pressed against his thighs, the muscles twitching as she lifted her tail, showing him her striking ass.

Boers grinned as he leaned forward and cuffed the red colored flanks with a playful slap. His paws glossed over her bare body and stroked along the sides of her chest and breasts, loving the way the tickle made the tall giantess shiver and moan with glee.

As he positioned the head of his cock at her heated opening, Boers reflected on what was coming. He needed this, he needed this to take his mind off the loss of the day. Any distraction to take him away from all that was drowning him. An emotional turmoil to keep him so tired he wouldn't have to see the faces of the dead plaguing his dreams again.

With a fierce thrust he sheathed himself into her soft and velvet like passage. The tall hybrid reared her head back and nearly screamed if not for Boers placing a paw over her muzzle transforming the overburdened scream into a passionately loud moan. She was so far gone she even trembled with shock at the slapping of their bodies together.

Boers kept his paw over her muzzle until her body eventually sagged forward and her inner cavern stopped pumping around his member. Releasing her muzzle, the silver dire brought both paws to bare. Supporting Septra's body, with one paw held tight on her shoulder as the other stroked along her spine, then under her chest to tease her nipples gently.

Boers groaned as he held himself taught inside her. This, this was what the Zaroffs were so afraid of!? He hadn't felt this level of intimate care for a partner in ages. He was much more used to vapid rank hounds, rigorous and untrained bitches and the occasional stiff and pomp of a high rank slumming around for a pound, as his usual conquests. Dealing with them had been far more physical, jarring, and explosive.

This however, was one of the few actual times that Boers felt he could actually delve into the emotional appeal of lovemaking. Tightening his grip on the clenching and willing female who was honoring him. He allowed the hard thrusts to fade away, making deliberate and passionate pumps, slowly and strategically, while he lapped gently at her neck and back muscles. Allowing the gentle thrusts to cascade over them both. Finally free to indulge in the one act of his life, where the expression of affection and mutual bonding pleasure was acceptable. Building that emotional connection and giving Septra every ounce of what the dire thought was love, pumping away until he fully believed.

When he felt that she had fully accustomed her soft passage to his size, he withdrew his dick and pumped it back in with another slapping thrust. Septra groaned and hung her head, as her Praetor molested her body with his hands and subjugated her pussy to his will with his cock. She shook and shivered from the sensations as the impressive dire fucked her silly, and played her bodies soft spots like an experienced master.

"P-Praetor...It feels really good," she reassured him as he felt her walls pulse around him like a silk vise. Even then he did not let up, and smacked a firm paw over her ass cheek, making her arch her back even more as she yipped like a yearling pup. As she arched her body, he found his dick was able to slip further inside her. It felt as if his member was trying to replace her spinal column as her chief body's support.

"Gawd, a big girl like you can take quite a lot can't you?" Muttered Boers into her neck. Pulling his hips back he undulated his next thrust so that his tip glanced off the inside of her inner walls, touching the soft and sweet place in her squirming quim. Her responding squeal signaled the end of their limited conversation.

Lifting the tall wolfess from the cot, Boers pulled them both to their feet. Her height was not as off putting for him as he gently folded her with his weight, causing her to lean and hunch as they moved forward as one.

Boers slammed her onto the crates then, pressing her soft breasts to the boxes' cold wooden tiles. Holding her still, the silver dire positioned himself to rest on her back, his muzzle over her shoulder. As he did so his hips hunched and curled with him, never leaving Septra's pussy. He ran a paw down to test their connection and realized that she had clenched tight against him, unwilling to let his member go free. Such a position suited him just fine.

Now the male found he could see Felder and Kurma again. The two were already nearing the end of their own sex session, just ahead of them. Kurma was being held much the same as Boers held Septra, with her back pressed to the male's chest, both filled with impressive manhoods from their male lovers. Both were also being licked, pawed, and jostled like the fuck-meat they had devolved into.

Forcing Septra to stare at the other coupling wolves, Boers bit her ear gently and placed a controlling paw on her head, forcing her to watch and not look away. His other paw descended slowly and tantalizing down her heaving chest and sides. Finding its resting place over her bare slit, fingers fiddling over the little sensitive ruby nub protruding from her labia lips.

Septra panted heavily as she watched the young coupling lovers ahead of them. The feel of the powerful paws holding her body and pleasuring it, only added to the growing arousal building deep inside her. She watched wide eyed as Felder's strong rippling ass muscles caved in and out with this flexing as he pumped good and hard into the squirming little Fa'val's plump and spread pussy. The sight of couples squirting and dripping play, made the halfbreed blush hard. Glad for Boers controlling hold over her head, otherwise she would've turned away from the mating sight in embarrassment. Instead her mouth watered, as she watched the mating session traverse further, truly free of the shameful insecurities that might cause her to miss such a sight. Voyeurism was a known profitable industry in her tribe, yet now she was getting that very sight for free.

Feeling the weight of her partner on her strong back, Septra coiled her inner muscles at the feel of the male's strong large paws lovingly pawing all over her body. He had given up his hold on her head and was dragging his big paw over her chest, slicked back, and breasts. Playfully pinching her twitching nipples, making her want to howl proud for him. All the while his impressive wolf-hood slammed her inner g-spot and cavern walls, setting off her pleasure centers. The other paw had not left her snatch, the experienced fingers trolling her clit repeatedly. There also was a touch of pride at such a mating with a fine specimen of wolf. Boers was perfect, exactly the kind of male her tribe pushed as the excelled super-wolf image.

Together they returned to watching Felder thrust and thrust into Kurma's clenching sex, while Boers own firm dick plunged back and forth inside Septa's tight snatch. Both sets of lovers mimicking the exact same sex movements and sway of hard-fucking.

Boers had been nearing his peak for a while now, but he could have sworn that the giant Wogtal female would be the one to come before him. Especially from the way he could feel her clench and jump every time his dick flipped over the soft little spot inside her over again and again, while his thumb and forefinger clipped and rubbed her swaying little clit.

He could feel Septra's shivering muscles and realized suddenly that she must be holding her climax off. She held from pressing down to meet his thrusts, she wouldn't even milk his shaft with her thighs or inner muscles. Even though it clearly was driving her body mad to do so, she was doing everything she could to stave off her passionate release.

She routinely clenched ever so tight around him, strong enough that it felt like she might break his dick off. Then she would release suddenly and reserve herself against him, taught and straight as if she was worried to lose her hold. Each time Boers would hold to see if this was the moment she'd peak, but there was no squirt of juices or screams from her throat. She still refused to cum for him.

"What's the hold up my dear? Afraid to lose such a good thing?"He teased, hoping that she would lead herself to her own climax if he made her angry enough to lose control. When it seemed to fail, she responded with a shake of her tail about his face, while she clenched her inner caverns rather hard.

Doubling over her he growled and shook. The way she took the initiative to punish him for his teasing made the silver dire grin with bared fangs. The mixed breed was a rare and fine treasure. His large paw cupped her cheek and brought her head up from between her shaking arms so he could lick her cheek and press their heads together.

Septra appreciated his affection and licked his nose in return. With a grin of her own she began nuzzling into her commander's face as her hips suddenly thrust back against his next incoming pump. The pleasure of their bodies bolting together like that made them both groan and almost choke on their own cries.

"No, Praetor, I was...Waiting for you!" She finally answered with a curdling moan. Clenching her toes and arching her bare paws, she allowed her body to advertise the rippling effects of his dick worming through her system.

"Is that a Geiger-Pack custom then?" Asked Boers incredulously, increasing his grasp on her hips as he thrust and pumped into her again and again like a piston.

"N-No, J-Just....Just for you, BOERS!" Howled Septra as the male finished with a quick vapid thrust that locked his knot inside her snatch. That hard bulb of flesh stretching the female's inner walls ever further and locking the two together and in place.

From across the camp Felder had sealed Kurma to him as well, but only just short of pushing in his knot. The tight little slave was still too weak to take that level of force. Instead he hefted her into his lap, clapping a set of paws over her rather large breasts. Cupping her tits and fingering her puckering nipples, his teeth bit her neck as his dick slipped deep inside and held.

The four dires all coupled hard and groaned together, Septra holding herself taught as she felt Boers suddenly start spasming behind her. With his knot locked and his dick tight and snagged, there was little else to do anymore. With his hips pushing and grinding into her, the silver male made sure once more to angle the tip of his dick to hit the sweetest spot inside her occupied pussy.

That strategy worked well because both wolves found themselves finally going over the edge, alongside their coupling counterparts by the fire. Both groups of lovers' passions were overwhelming as they all crossed the final finish line of orgasm together. The dread and silence of the desolate battlefield suddenly shattered as two sets of howling screams echoed loudly into the night, sharing in the glory of something other than death.