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The Warriors of the Wood

Part One

A Furry Erotica Romance

By A.C. Williams

The clearing is filled with folk who are curled into themselves sobbing. Their furry bodies are covered in welts that seep blood from the boss' whip that he wields as he paces around the perimeter of people. His body is lithe and strong, but his long weasel face holds a sour note to his raised lip. He sneers at the people, as he paces by them, he thinks he is far above the slaves he is transporting, but that is far from the truth.

Toward one side of the tiny clearing, there is a female fox with plush smokey gray fur, her ears are tall as she tries to hold herself straight, but her limbs shiver with fear. She has a small piece of cloth held in her thin hands that she jabs a needle in and out of, the needlepoint taking shape with her deft movements.

Her small, warm amber eyes dart around, a chill shivering up her spine. The men that surround them snarl at a woman who holds a babe to her chest, the youngling suckling at her breast. The poor woman cringes away and clutches her child closer to her self, a whimper bubbling up from her as she tries to get as far away from the men as she can. The chains at her wrists and ankles clink as she moves.

The Fox woman half stands, thinking to help the mother, but there is a growl from behind her and she moves to lock eyes with the boss, his large brown eyes dancing as he looks at her, he would enjoy hurting her.

"Please Lady Arabella, make my day..." He croons, stroking his bloodied whip that is looped on his belt.

Shuddering, she sits back down. But she gives him a disdainful look. "You were told not to harm me." She says, her voice sounding a lot braver than she feels. Her fingers worry one spot on the edge of her needlepoint as she stares at the weasel.

Snorting, the man rolls his eyes. "Yes, but that doesn't stop me from hurting them." His voice is nasty, his eyes darting to the woman and glinting with a sick happiness at her pain. "If it will hurt you without me having to lay a finger on you, I'll do it." His tone turns to a snarl as he looks back at the regal Fox woman.

Shuddering, Arabella hunches her shoulders. "Why do you despise me so?" She murmurs, her thin finger stroking her stitches, the bright colors giving her hope.

Laughing suddenly, the man rests a hand on his whip, his eyes glinting with dark humor. "I don't despise you, quite the contrary." He sneers. "I just love to see your pain." He licks his lips and steps next to her, his hand reaching out to stroke the side of her face. "If you were not promised to Laird Devon, I would tup you here and now." He murmurs, his tone oily, sliding over her in a cloying embrace.

Shuddering in a breath, Arabella moves back from his fingers, rubbing her hand on the fabric of her dress to try and rid herself of the oily sensation, giving him as much a glare as she can. "Do not touch me." She snaps, not truly sounding angry, more frightened, her voice shaking as she looks at him.

Laughing to himself, the man steps back and gives a mocking bow. "Of course Lady." He sneers, stepping away to continue pacing around the people. The sky above grows darker, casting them in a shadow as the warm sun vanishes behind the tall trees. The air grows frosty and Arabella's breath steams in front of her. Clutching her shawl around her shoulders she shivers, casting a hateful glance over to the fire that the men had started for themselves. Nothing for the slaves, or her. She won't die from the cold, but, a tremor of anger courses through her.

The babe wails, her mother trying to hush her with a gentle rock. But the babe still cries. The sound grating on Arabella's tall ears. The mother tries to feed the babe, tries to rock her, but still she cries. Not knowing what else to do, Arabella moves over to the mother, her ear flicking.

There is a snarl as one of the guards sees her move, his voice cracking out and lashing against her ears. "Sit down!"

Turning a glare on the man, Arabella stands tall, clutching her shawl closer. "The babe is crying because she needs changed." She snaps. "Unless you would like to volunteer your clothing, I can help quiet her."

Glowering at her, the guard ponders her words. Giving a grunt he turns away and keeps pacing around the people, casting a glance at her every few steps.

Sighing, Arabella hurries over to the woman and kneels next to her. "Hello," She says quietly, looking into the exhausted eyes of the small feline. "I can help if you like."

The woman doesn't say anything, just nods, her hands still rocking the child.

Smiling softly, Arabella holds out some fabric, it doesn't have any stitching on it, but it is a thick cotton, soft and supple in her hands. "These should work as diapers." She says quietly. "At least until we reach the castle."

Nodding her thanks, the woman still doesn't speak, but takes the cloth and quickly changes the babe, who quiets down soon after. Falling asleep in the crook of the woman's arm. Arabella smiles and gives the woman a nod of her head, moving back to her previous spot with a glare at the guard.

Sitting down on the small stool they had brought for her, her only comfort, she tugs her shawl over her shoulders and sighs, looking down at her hands as they rest on her lap. This adventure to her new home is not as fun as it sounded. Laughing to herself, she looks around her with a disgusted expression. Fun, not a word for her travel at all. The Laird Devon had requested her hand in marriage and had sent for her as soon as her uncle had agreed. She's never met him, but she knows that he is a Mage. He apparently is the King's only Mage because he doesn't like competition.

Sighing, Arabella plucks at the fringe of her shawl and looks at the ground, a gloom settling over her. She had known since she was young that she was to be married to a noble of some sort to finalize an alliance with the King. Her uncle had been rather forthcoming on that information. She glances over at the fire, a longing for the warmth fills her. But with a glance at the hurt males and females in front of her she sighs and pushes off her stool to lay on the hard ground, one arm under her head as a pillow.

She drifts off as she had the past few days, into a nightmare. The dream filled with screaming and flames, steel flashing and the stench of blood.

Her eyes flutter open, the screaming doesn't stop.

With a start, she jolts to her feet, watching as a group of burly warriors come crashing into the camp, their swords flashing in the low light from the fire. The slaves around her scream and try to run away. But the guards shove them down, the chains on their limbs clanking with the movements.

Arabella screams as a male crashes in front of her, not one of the guards, his face is twisted in pain and there is a dark marking over one of his eyes, a swirling pattern in the short fur. Staring at the fox, she breathes heavily, the marking one she knows, but cannot pin point where she's seen it.

He sees her and his eyes sparkle. His mouth opens and a shrill sound comes out from between his glistening teeth. The other fighters surround her, a large, burly wolverine clutching at her arms and tossing her over his shoulder. She screams, kicking her feet and thrashing in his grip. He curses in a guttural language and shifts her as he runs toward the trees.

"Stop it!" He snarls in common, "For the love of the Earth, stop thrashing." Shifting her again, he growls, his voice spearing through her. Her heart stopping, but not from fear. His voice thrills her, his touch now sending shock-waves through her body. She stops thrashing.

"Finally..." The man mutters, "Goddess, you are a handful."

"Why did you take me?" Arabella asks, her voice shrill as she clutches a handful of his tunic, her body trembles, her ears laying back over her skull. "Were you looking for me?"

Laughing in his rough voice, the wolverine shifts her again, slinging her so she's cradled in his arms, his dark brown eyes peering down at her, she feels a jolt go through her heart. He's handsome, his face rough, but his eyes are kind. "They're the Mercenaries that we've been tracking, they're taking them folk to a place that will destroy them."

Arabella furrows her brow. "Laird Devon said he would be using them in his staff." She says, her voice small, the slaves had been mistreated, but that's nothing new, it's sad, and she wishes it was different, but that's how it is.

Snorting, the wolverine gives a half grin. "That what he told ya?" He says, dark humor in his gaze. "He's plannen on killing em for his experiments."

Sucking in a breath, Arabella holds it. "That can't be true..." She whispers, the air leaving her lungs in a gust.

"I assure you, Lady, it's true." A new voice says, more cultured than the man who holds her, he still runs, his feet thudding against the soil.

She hadn't noticed how even the wolverine's voice was, looking around her at the world speeding by she is astonished at how fast they're moving. Spying the male who spoke, a buck, his antlers spreading from his brow in a wide, graceful arch, she gapes at him. "What kind of experiments?" She asks quietly, trying to keep her mind on the conversation.

Frowning the buck keeps pace with the wolverine, his movements graceful as they race through the forest. "No one knows for sure."

"Why did you take me?" She asks again, her voice quiet.

The wolverine that holds her speaks again, his voice low. "We've been followin the group for a couple'a days and we saw ya. Knew ya were different and decided to take you from them while we helped the slaves get free."

A jolt goes through her heart as she looks up into the kind eyes of the male who holds her. "Thank you." She murmurs, feeling a warmth spread through her chest. "What is your name?"

"Garrin." He says gruffly, giving a quick smile that makes her insides quiver.

"Are the slaves free Garrin?" She asks quietly, her hands clasping together in front of her, still in his arms as he runs, she feels awkward, unsure of how to behave.

He gives a jerk of his head, his kind eyes flicking to hold hers for a moment, a heat spreading through them. Sighing, he shakes his head and looks back at the forest around them. "Yes, they're free now."

"Thank you..." She says again, staring up at his rough face, her heart fluttering as he holds her closer. She snuggles into his warm arms and sighs, not knowing what will happen next, but feeling safe in his arms.

************

She must have dozed off because when her eyes flutter open, the sun is shining through a flap of a tent and she's laying on a mat inside. Scrubbing a hand over her face, she stretches, feeling her muscles tense under her heavy clothing. It's warm, she feels her fur dampen with moisture, shuddering at the feeling she pushes the blanket off of her and stands, stumbling briefly before finding her feet.

Her head swims as she clutches at the post that keeps the tent up. She feels faint and weak, her stomach screaming at her to eat something. Licking her dry lips she peers around the tent for some food or water.

She doesn't have to look hard, there is a plate with a piece of brown bread and cheese, as well as a pitcher of water next to a clay cup.

Taking the water, she gulps down three cups before turning her attention to the cheese and bread, for her empty stomach the food is heavenly. The cheese tangy and sharp on her tongue and the bread sweet and dense. The food makes her feel stronger, more able, after a moment she sets the plate down and pushes aside the flap of cloth, moving out to the open.

She pauses half inside, her eyes widening as she takes in the scene before her. There are men, lots of them, and they all wear leather armor and have swords strapped to their sides. She blinks, the warriors around her peer at her with curiosity but do not approach her.

Taking a deep breath, she pushes fully out of the tent into the brisk morning air, much cooler than it was inside the tent. She clasps her hands together and moves cautiously out toward the fire.

A woman's voice snaps at her, brisk and angry. "Why are you out of your tent?"

Arabella whirls around and presses her hands against her abdomen. Her gaze falls on a short rodent woman with her hair wound into a high bun. She has a spoon in her hand and flour dusting her apron. "I beg your pardon?" Arabella gasps.

Scowling at the fox, the rodent woman stomps forward. "If you know what's good for you, you'll stay in there until Garrin comes back." She says, pointing at the tent Arabella just left.

"Where am I?"

Her scowl deepening, the woman sighs. "Go sit inside, I'll be there in a moment, if you want to keep your innocence you'll do as I say."

"Will you answer my questions?" Arabella asks, a pleading note to her tone.

"Yes!" The woman snaps, "Go inside!"

Picking up her skirts, Arabella hurries to do as the Rodent woman says, the flap of fabric swinging down behind her as she settles back to the mat. She shivers, not from cold, it's rather warm in the tent, but from fear. She doesn't know where she is or what happened.

She doesn't have to wait long for the woman to come back, she enters the tent with another pitcher of water, setting it down on the same small table as earlier. She pulls a cushion from behind a chest and sits on it, staring at Arabella without a word.

The fox woman fidgets with her fingers, trying to keep her panic from overwhelming her. "Please!" She blurts, "Where am I?"

Sighing, the woman seems to shrink a bit. "You're in the camp of Laird Gysier." She says softly, "The menfolk have been tracking the group we saved you from. Garrin is the one who saved you. You would have been sold to the horrid wizard."

Shivering, Arabella wraps her arms around herself. "I was his betrothed." She whispers, her body trembling.

Looking at her, the mouse woman purses her lips. "That might be an issue." She says quietly. "Did you want to marry him?"

Looking up, her expression wide eyed with shock, Arabella cries, tears dripping down her cheeks. "No! He's vile, the only reason I am is because my uncle decided it was a good way to get more land." She hiccups, her tears turning to sobs. "Please, don't send me to him."

The woman moves closer to Arabella and wraps her arms around the thin fox. "Hush now dearling, we won't send you to that horrid man." She murmurs. "Auntie Svara will keep you safe."

Sniffling, Arabella looks up to Svara's face. "Thank you..." She murmurs through her tears, her body still shuddering at the thought of marrying the wizard.

There is a commotion outside the tent and the flap is shoved to the side. The wolverine from the previous night steps inside, his brows drawing together in confusion as he sees the women hugging. "What's going on?" He asks in his deep rumble.

Svara sighs and strokes Arabella's hair. "She's had a nasty time of it. Have you spoken to the Laird?"

Nodding, Garrin moves farther into the tent, standing next to the women. He kneels down and reaches out a hand to brush against Arabella's shoulder. "Please, Lady, do not weep." He murmurs.

Taking a deep breath, Arabella feels warmth spread from where he touched her, her tears dry and she smiles shyly at him. "Thank you for saving me." She whispers, her heart wrenching at the thought of what she had escaped from.

Smiling gently, Garrin picks up a lock of her hair, running his thumb over it he smiles gently, his rough face turning soft. After a moment he looks up at her with his deep brown eyes, "I would fight the demons of hell for you, Lady."

Feeling a shiver go through her fur, Arabella looks at the man in front of her, knowing that he speaks the truth.

Svara tisks and pulls back from Arabella, standing and dusting her skirt off. "Well, Garrin, what did the Laird say?"

Sighing, Garrin tears his eyes away from Arabella. "He wishes to speak with her. To know what she was doing with the slaves."

Arabella feels a shock go through her body, the Laird will send her back, he wouldn't wish to start a war with the wizard. No one would, she can't tell him the truth. Her eyes flick to Svara, she understands because she is a woman, but the Laird wouldn't, he would only wish to save his men from dying on the battle field. She can't let him know.

Garrin looks down at her, his expression sorrowful. "Come with me, Lady." He murmurs, holding out a dark hand.

Shuddering a breath, she places a hand in his, feeling a pang, she will soon be gone from him. The thought makes her sad, though she knows not why.

They stand and look at one another in the weak morning light slinking through the fabric. Garrin gives a small smile of encouragement. "It will be alright." He murmurs, brushing his lips over her knuckles. "Come meet Laird Gysier."

Arabella follows as he tugs her out of the tent, feeling like a lead ball had been attached to her ankles as she goes to what seems to be the end of her freedom.

End