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The Seduction of Seleste

from the world of the mating season

It Will Be Alright

Chapter 3

"Be grateful, girl," said Belou in a low voice. "Chieftess was gonna have you buried alive. I asked her not to. Then she decided on stoning. I knew after that she'd only need a little persuading."

Seleste was silent as an escort of five guards marched her through the summer village. She was still naked and walked with her arms covering her breasts, her tail low, her head down so that her long mane swept forward to hide her face. It was twilight and the last pink and purple hues of light were sinking away beyond the forests surrounding the village. It was the lull of the day: warriors were returning from their shifts on patrol while others set out to take their places, cattle were lowing in the village stables, shepards walked home from the fields, and children ran inside as darkness fell. Seleste had always loved this time of a day. How dismally ironic that her favorite time of day should be the moment her entire life was stripped from her.

As tradition decreed, Seleste was supposed to be led to the edge of the village and stoned to death. In normal circumstances, females who were caught mating before the mating season were banished to live alone near the village wall. Their families were not to speak to them, nor their friends, and they were to live the rest of their lives shunned. Meanwhile, any child they had was to also bear the disgrace.

But Seleste was a princess. And to be a princess meant to be an example to all her subjects. Therefore, any princess who was caught breaking tradition usually faced death. And Meleste had been most adamant about properly applying tradition: wolves who were chased away with stones to become loners rarely escaped the stoning.

Kneeling before her sister after the rape, Seleste had not cared. What had she to live for? Her father was dead. Her sisters were gone. Her body was bloody and broken, violated by those she hated most. And the only love she had ever known . . .

"Now," Meleste had said scathingly, "you shall face the stones!"

Seleste had closed her eyes, almost glad to know that she would die and her pain would end. She didn't know how she could live like this. She could smell it, her blood, MeRorr's blood. She tried not to look at his staring body, but her eyes kept going back to him, and each time they did, she broke down sobbing.

"Death is too good for her," Belou had said, and Seleste had not been able to believe it. She lifted her head and gazed at Belou in amazement.

"Let her live with this anguish," went on Belou. "She deserves it. And besides, the death of Princess Seleste would greatly anger your subjects."

At Belou's words, Meleste had seemed to reconsider. She paused and her face creased in a scowl, and Seleste knew she was no doubt remembering that her younger sister was the summer wolves' favorite princess: there would be rioting in the streets were Seleste stoned by the guards.

"Fine," Meleste had finally said and sneered at her sister. "Take her away. Out the southern gates. Let merchants and slavers take her across the sea, let lone wolves rape and murder her, let the relentless sun of the wastelands beat upon her until she dies. Just take her from here!"

And with that, Seleste had been pulled to her feet and marched from the massive hut of the chieftess. That Belou of all males had saved her, she still could not believe it nor could she understand. Belou hadn't meant a word of what he was saying: it was all a bluff to make Meleste reconsider the stoning. But why? Why had he spoken up for her?

They passed up the streets of the summer village, and wolves crowded from the doorways of their huts to shout. They booed and hissed, and Seleste realized they were protesting her punishment. They thought she was being led off to be stoned, and the boldest villagers even hurled rocks at the guards.

"Let the princess go!" someone screamed and a small child wailed through his tears, "Daddy, what 'er they doin' with the princess!"

"Shut up, you fools, and go back to your lives!" snarled one of the guards when a stone hit his ear. "We are not stoning her - she is banished!"

But the summer wolves did not stop screaming and yelling. Young mothers with infants strapped to their backs hurled cabbages and tomatoes. Male warriors hefted spears and shouted curses. Children threw dirt clods and licked out their tongues at the guards. One very small girl, a pup no older than three, clung to Seleste's leg and had to be pried off.

"Look at this mess," sneered Belou under his breath. He walked at Seleste's side, his big paw closed on her upper arm in an iron grip as he steered her on. "I tried to tell your stupid sister that no one needed to die. We were just supposed to fuck you, then banish you both. Meleste ordered MeRorr's death at the last minute. We didn't want it."

Seleste's mouth fell open and she gazed up at Belou as they walked. Her lip trembled. "He was supposed to live?" she said in a small sob of a voice.

Belou nodded. "Aye, princess. You were both to be banished. Now look at this mess: the village will be in an uproar for days - fuck!" He winced when a rock glanced off his ear.

"So you're a rapist, not a murderer?" Seleste said sarcastically. God, she wanted to spit in Belou's face. He actually thought that just sleeping with her against her will would have been better! She suddenly wanted to twist free of him. He made her skin crawl under her fur.

Belou's face darkened and he looked away. "You have a chance to live now. And because I intervened. Be grateful and keep your mouth shut."

"No!" Seleste snapped. "You raped me - you hurt me, you made me bleed, you humiliated me in front of the male I love! If you want me to shut up, you'll have to kill me!"

Belou glared at her, and she glared back with the rigid defiance he had grown accustomed to over the years, had even come to find amusing. After she stared him down a long moment, he chuckled to himself and looked away.

"You're damn magnificent," he said, his gaze fixed on the distant gates. "Those eyes are bright enough to make any male fall to his knees, and you don't even know it." He laughed. "Or maybe you do. MeRorr was a fool not to take you from here and never look back."

"I wanted him to," Seleste whispered to the ground. Her mane fell forward again, but Belou didn't have to see her face to know more silent tears had come.

"Why didn't he?"

"He said I was too young," Seleste whispered. "He said I deserved a prince, a young male my own age, someone who could keep up with me." Thinking of MeRorr that first night he held her and whispered those things, she laughed sadly. "'He wanted me to have the best. He just didn't realize . . . he was it."

Seleste and Belou fell silent as they approached the gates. The fields were just on the other side, where the village shepherds took their sheep to graze every morning. Beyond the fields, on a lonely hill in a little wood, was the village graveyard. And beyond that . . .

"The wastelands --" Belou said as they passed through the gates, but he was interrupted by a scream from the village. The shouting and throwing had escalated to a point that Seleste's escort had fallen back to deal with the ensuing riot. Now only Belou and Yzmor stood with Seleste on the edge of the grazing fields. The warriors guarding the southern gates were called to help the guards with the rioting, and they ran, spears in paws, to stop a young warrior from stabbing a guard.

"You're supposed to be her protector!" the young male roared. "But you lead her to be stoned?"

"Down with Meleste!" screamed yet another warrior and hurled his spear in a guard's chest.

Seleste stood watching the riot in shock. She knew the summer wolves loved her, but she had never before realized the depth of their devotion until that day. The howl went up as the young warrior was failed, and more young warriors came running and launched into the guards. The guards fought back with a deft skill that made blood splash across the starlit sky: being the sworn protectors of the chief's family, they were naturally the best of the best warriors in the village.

"God," Belou whispered and shook his head. "There's going to be a massacre." His dark eyes turned to Seleste. "You best get going. I was going to tell you to stay wary while in the wastelands. Meleste wasn't kidding when she said the merchant slavers who cross the place wouldn't hesitate to snatch you up."

"If the lone wolves don't first," Seleste said wretchedly.

Yzmor drew his dagger and offered it. Seleste just stared at him. His dark eyes urged her to take it, but she couldn't move.

"Take the dagger, girl," Belou said wearily. "It's time you started to trust us."

"Trust you --?!"

"We enjoyed fucking you, I won't lie," Belou said solemnly. "But we never would have hurt you like that if Meleste hadn't ordered it. We never would have touched you. I have protected you your entire life. I protected your sisters before you, and your mother when she was living. I may have teased you and lusted after you, but it was never in my heart to hurt you."

Seleste just stood. She suddenly wished that they were going to stone her. She would rather just end things here than be sent off into the darkness alone, where anything could happen to her. Probably more rape. She stared at her feet. A chill wind swept down and she shivered, holding herself.

"Take it, damn it!" Belou snarled. He snatched the dagger from his silent brother and shoved it in Seleste's small paw.

Seleste just stared at the dagger. She had never held a weapon in her life let alone used one. They might as well have given her a mane brush.

"And here," Belou muttered. Darkness had fallen at last, and Seleste could hear him rummaging in the dark. He had brought a bag with him. She'd thought there were stones inside with which to chase her off. But no. He pulled out a blanket woven of soft cotton. It was thick and dyed sky blue. Seleste recognized the scent. It was hers.

"I took it from your bed," Belou muttered as he wrapped the blanket around her shoulders. "I thought you'd like something from your room. You've had this damn thing since you were a pup." He stepped back and seemed unable to look at her. He turned instead to face the rioting crowds of the village, and he suddenly looked very tired.

Seleste didn't know what to say. She had endured Belou's teasing, his staring, his lusting for so many years that she had come to despise him. Now here he was, doing what he had sworn on pain of death to do: protecting her.

Seleste clutched the blanket around her shoulders and stared at Belou's back, trying in vain to find the right words to say. A heavy paw clamped on her shoulder, and she looked around as Yzmor said in his deep, booming voice, "South, princess. Take refuge in the sun village. Keep the red star at your back." She followed his finger as he pointed: he was pointing across the field, beyond the graveyard. She would have to cross the wastelands to reach the sun village.

"Th-thank you, Yzmor," Seleste muttered. She suddenly felt cold inside. She would have to travel all that way alone. In the dark. With who knew what lurking in the shadows ready to snatch her. She held the blanket tight to her shoulders and couldn't move.

"Get the hell outta here," Belou snarled. He drew his dagger and looked eager to be heading toward the riot. Things were getting beyond out of control: villagers were now openly assaulting the guards with whatever they could get their paws on. They seemed to think Seleste was about to be stoned.

Yzmor had not removed his heavy paw and now he squeezed Seleste's shoulder. When she looked up at him, his usually-serious eyes were smiling in the darkness. "Go," he boomed. "It will be alright, child."