FSE

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Chapter 3

Zalia thought the young male was nothing like the image of the lone wolf her father had painted for her. She wasn't even sure he was a lone wolf to begin with. In the first place, he was nice. That wasn't to say that he was friendly or talkative or that he even smiled. In fact, that first hour they were with him, he never smiled. But he was kind to the children. He led them deep into the forest and to a cave, where he lay Kilyan's small body to rest and stroked up a fire. Huddling together as they watched the loner binding Kilyan's head injury, Keeno and Zalia ate the food he offered them: fish with slices of cherry pie - more than obviously stolen - and roots he had dug up around the forest.

For the longest time, no one spoke. The stranger went about caring for Kilyan with a dour air, hardly bothering to look at the children. Kilyan moaned softly as his head was bound but remained unconscious. He looked so small and weak beside the stranger that it almost made Zalia cry. She huddled close to Keeno and ate her pie, thinking that Keeno had not stopped his suspicious glowering since they'd met the young male. Zalia suddenly wanted desperately for him to be nice to him. The young male looked . . . so sad.

"Who are you?" Zalia whispered.

"Zalia!" Keeno hissed.

"And why did you save us?" Zalia went on, ignoring Keeno. She hated the trembling in her voice, but she was still frightened. She knew she had come very close to having something terrible happen to her. Something unspeakably terrible. And the young male . . . he had saved her. She was in awe of him.

The young male glanced over his shoulder at the children once, then went back to caring for Kilyan with large, careful fingers. "I'm a lone wolf," he said quietly.

"No," Keeno said at once, "maybe you're a lost traveler. Or a merchant. Maybe you got separated from your friends. But you can't be a lone wolf!"

Zalia blinked, startled, when the stranger smiled to himself. She knew that sort of smile. It was a smile she had seen on her father's face a thousand times. It was a smile that meant she had said something silly or naïve - something the wisdom of experience would soon remedy.

"Why can't I be?" asked the stranger calmly. With Kilyan's head bound, he pulled a skin of bear fur over his chest with the gentle care of a mother. Then he turned and sat opposite them around the fire. They watched as he picked up a bone and picked his fangs with it.

"B-Because!" Keeno sputtered. He frowned and drew himself up, as if he was the number one expert on lone wolves. "Lone wolves don't save anybody and they certainly don't help them! They steal pups and hurt females! They steal our food and livestock! They break into our homes!"

"And they're usually older and uglier," Zalia said, fluttering admiring lashes at the stranger.

Keeno scowled at her.

Looking at the pups from under tendrils of mane, the stranger smiled in dark amusement. "One day," he said, "you will learn to stop dividing the world into such neat and precise categories."

Keeno's ears pricked forward, and Zalia could tell he didn't know what to say. He took a sullen bite of fish and continued to watch the stranger suspiciously - only now, his brown eyes were sparkling with grudging curiosity as well.

Zalia looked at the male with large, admiring sapphire eyes. He was so handsome. He was toned with muscles and tall and he smelled so good. He smelled like the river and grass and trees. His eyes were always dark with thought, and more often than not, he was silent and withdrawn.

When he first brought them to the cave, he left them alone for a full twenty minutes, without explaining that he would return or what he had gone to do. Keeno and Zalia had scrambled to stem Kilyan's blood flow and found themselves strangely relieved to see the mysterious young male return. He had gathered herbs for Kilyan's injury and set about treating their cuts and scratches as well. Now all three pups were bandaged, safe, and warm. Zalia still couldn't believe it.

Finished picking his fangs, the stranger threw the bone on the fire. He folded his legs and sat staring at it. His black eyes reflected the flames like glass.

"What's your name?" Zalia wondered breathlessly.

Keeno stared at the stranger, as if he had been wondering the same thing.

Slowly, his eyes turned from the fire and smiled at them. That dark and handsome smile. "Sion."

"Sion," Zalia repeated and sighed happily.

Keeno glanced at her irritably, but he looked at the stranger with curious brown eyes. "But . . . how could you be a lone wolf? Was it the pie?" He nodded and smiled. "They banished you for stealing pie, didn't they?"

Zalia was amazed when Sion laughed. It was the first time he'd ever shown emotion. Even when he killed the lone wolf who'd been attacking them, his face had remained calm and impassive. Looking at him, Zalia knew he had killed before. She had grown up around warriors, and only the older, more experienced held that expression. The expression of disassociation.

Sion smiled at Keeno, almost smirking. "No," he said in his calm voice, "it was not the pie."

Zalia looked at the pie in her little paws. Sion had given them the treat in the hope of calming them down, she knew. Such pies were often sold in the village market or sat in the windows of the wealthy wolves whose homes had kitchens with stoves. Sion would have had to enter a village to get such pie. . . . or perhaps he'd simply taken it from another lone wolf thief. She didn't want to think of that.

Zalia finished her slice of pie and licked the sticky juice from her fingers. "So how'd ja get banished, Sion?" she asked, frowning with concern.

Sion looked at Zalia and hesitated. "Here, eat another slice of pie," he said, sliding the stained package to her. It was not something a child should hear.

"This is nothing a child should hear!" Tuala shrieked, grabbing Sion's youngest brother and covering his ears.

The boy was three years old. Sion doubted he knew what was happening anyway.

"Tuala - go in the house!" bellowed Sion's father.

"No!"

Tuala was Sion's mother. The day they came and chased him away, his little brother came out of the house and listened with wide eyes to the bellowed accusations. Tuala told him to go back inside (he didn't), then ran to Sion and clung to him desperately. Sion's father had to pry her off. Big Suni told his wife to go inside again and again, but Tuala refused, shrieking in horror as Sierra's father, uncle, and friends began throwing stones.

Sion ran some feet away, crying out as the first stones hit him. He met eyes with his father and they both knew he could do nothing to stop what was happening. Tears rose in Suni's dark eyes. "Run, boy," he whispered.

So Sion ran.

He knew that if he was fast enough, they would not be able to catch him and burn the mark on his forehead. If he did not receive the mark, he would have a chance. Other tribes would be more willing to accept him - and would be a lot less likely to kill him on sight.

As Sion pelted hard through the village streets, wolves emerged from their homes to watch what was happening. Given the time of day, most of the village females were at market or out in the fields, while most of the village males were going to patrol or coming home from it. So, unfortunately, the streets were mostly filled with slack-jawed children, who watched as the group of furious males chased Sion through the streets, chucking stones.

Sion cried out when a stone nicked his ear. He cried out again and stumbled when another hit his ankle. The stones kept hitting him, raining around him in clouds of dust. The males behind him where shouting angrily, cursing, growling as the hot blood oozed through Sion's fur with every hit.

"Teach you to rape a female!"

"You better run, you little fucker!"

Panting, ignoring the stinging cuts, Sion had almost made it to the gates when a large stone smacked him in the back of the head. He dropped like a sack. When he awoke again, he was kneeling, and his cheek was being smashed into the hard surface of a blacksmith's anvil. Males were all around him, talking quietly. A heavy paw was pressing firm on his head, keeping him in place. The fingers were hard, their grip painful and pitiless.

Sion was too sluggish and confused to understand what was happening. Blood was in his eyes. He thought he would faint. And then . . . he saw the hot iron coming for his face. His eyes fluttered wide and he began to squirm frantically. Several feet shuffled through the dirt and closed in around him as paws held him down. The brand was coming closer.

"N-No!" Sion growled, struggling. "NO! I didn't do it - I didn't hurt her --"

"Hold the motherfucker still!" snarled a voice. He recognized it as Sierra's father's voice. Isata was a hard and cold male. Sion knew he would probably go home and slap Sierra a couple times for letting a male rape her. And he certainly wouldn't listen to anything Sion had to say.

"I didn't!" Sion sputtered anyway. Blood and tears were in his eyes. He would never forget the excruciating pain of the mark being burned on his forehead. Never. He screamed as the smell of his own burning flesh filled his nostrils. He bucked - and he was instantly sorry he did, for the hot iron was pressed deeper when he moved.

The iron seemed to press to Sion's forehead for an eternity. It slowly pulled away, and the males holding him down let him go. Sion collapsed on his back, choking and sobbing with pain, as the males stood around him, peering down at him with faces etched in hatred and disgust.

They hauled him to his feet and dragged him to the gates, where they threw him in the dirt and told him to run. Sion knelt on paws and knees, his arms trembling as the little cuts all over his body continued to bleed and congeal. He tried to get up but realized his ankle was slightly twisted and throbbing badly. Putting any weight on it was excruciating. He tried to get up anyway and fell with a cry.

"Boy," said Isata behind him, "if you don't get up and run, we will be forced to kill you. And believe me . . . we won't be sorry."

Sion's heart leapt when he heard that. Choking and sobbing with pain, he forced himself to his feet. His ankle was screaming. He took a shuddering breath, and he ran.

They threw stones at him as he went, shouting that he had better never show his face in the village again. A few rocks hit him, cutting him afresh. He forced himself to run harder -- and harder and harder -- until he was out of range.

His problems were not over, however. Males on patrol saw the mark on Sion's forehead. They charged at him, chucking spears. One shot his bow and Sion screamed as an arrow found his arm. Blood splashed. Another grazed his cheek in ribbon of blood. Another - thankfully - whizzed past his ear.

A second male with red and green feathered arrows stepped out of the shadows. Sion skidded to a halt as the grim male slowly lifted his weapon. He was wearing a red and green feathered talisman to match his arrows. He shot at Sion without hesitation and got him in the thigh. Sion staggered. The male was fitting another arrow to the bowstring with the quick and cold precision of a veteran. He if didn't move, he was going to die.

Sion gritted his teeth and ran again. Harder. His thigh was shuddering and squirting blood. He was glad to realize the males were not pursuing, though a few arrows hit the trees behind him. After that, he learned to better evade the patrols - having patrolled the northern forest himself, he knew all the posts and made a point of avoiding them. Sobbing and bleeding, he ran until it was too dark to see . . . then he collapsed.

Down in the underbrush, Sion gulped for breath, spitting the blood that had dripped on his lips. He closed a shaking fist on the arrows jutting from his body, and with a shuddering breath, he ripped each one free. He screamed softly with each arrow, hoping against hope that no nearby patrols had heard him. He knew it was foolish to remove an arrow: now he was bleeding heavier and would certainly bleed out much faster if he simply laid there. But thinking of Sierra, he suddenly didn't care. He closed his eyes . . . and slipped into darkness.

When Sion awoke again, he was lying beside a fire, in the forest, under the stars. He realized immediately that his wounds had been tended. He was bandaged with herbs and foul medicines. His forehead had been treated as well. His body was pulsing with pain. He lay there for a long time, staring at the fire. It took him a while to realize two other wolves were there. Both males by the smell of them.

"And the pretty princess awakes," said one of the males, leering. He was very thin and gaunt, but Sion could tell that he was also very strong. His ragged fur was light gray. He was taller than his friend and had a long face with hollow, sunken cheeks. It was obvious at a glance that his face used to be quite handsome, but living a life of desperation in the forest had ravished his masculine beauty. His dark gray eyes were bitter and sullen - even when he smiled.

The second male was picking his fangs with a bone. He chucked it on the fire. "And about time," he said, glancing irritably at Sion. "D'you know how long we've waited for you?"

Sion blinked, trying to understand why they would have waited for him to awake. He sat up slowly and winced when his head spun.

"Easy there, princess," said the first male, holding out a concerned paw.

Sion scowled at him and rested his forearms on his knees. "Stop calling me princess."

The thin wolf grinned. "Why? You're so very pretty." He looked at Sion with quiet hunger. So did his friend. As they both sat looking at Sion, he saw the marks burned on their foreheads. Lone wolves. Sion quickly looked away. And Tail chasers. He didn't have to wonder why they had been cast out.

"I'm Lomasi," said the thin male. He nodded his head at his friend. "And that there's Taho."

The apparent Taho winked. He was a dark brown wolf with almost rusty red fur. His eyes were slanted and bright brown. Like his friend, his fur was ragged and matted from braving the elements - and also from failing to bathe. Both males were very musty.

"We're lone wolves like you, boy," went on Lomasi. "There's no reason to be afraid."

"I'm not afraid," Sion said at once - though he knew damn well he was sitting stiff with fear. He was outnumbered two to one and he had no weapons. But they did. The one called Lomasi had a small carving knife, which he occasionally picked his fangs with. The one called Taho had a big butcher knife - obviously stolen - on a plate beside him. The two males had been eating something around the fire. Fish. Sion's eyes went past them to the fish heads impaled on sticks not far away. There were also bags filled with goods: pots, pans, bedrolls, and exquisitely carved pipes and instruments. . . . the lone wolves had robbed merchants.

Lomasi was chuckling, as if Sion's fear was more than obvious. "You're not afraid," he repeated, amused. "Fine. You aren't. Have it your way."

Taho plucked the butcher knife from the plate and held it next to his face. "Fish?" he said, grinning as he offered Sion the plate.

Sion took the plate hopefully but slumped: it was full of nothing but bones. His stomach gurgled loudly in protest.

The lone wolves broke into peals of laughter.

Irate, Sion chucked the plate of bones and shot to his feet. His ankle screamed with pain and he sank down. The lone wolves laughed harder.

"Where are you going, princess?" Lomasi asked. He rubbed his hard thigh and licked his lips, looking at Sion's young, tight body.

Sion looked away, ears flat. "I'm going home."

"Home!" shouted Taho.

The lone wolves looked at each other and laughed again. Sion's ears flattened angrily under the laughter.

"Yes - home!" he yelled.

Taho wiped away tears of mirth. "And what will you do when you get there? Besides scream in agony as they slaughter you."

Sion folded his arms. "Maybe if I let some time pass, they'll calm down," he said resolutely. "Maybe I can make them listen to me."

"What did you do?" Lomasi asked curiously. He seemed genuinely interested, so Sion told him.

"I was accused of rape," Sion said, more miserably than he intended to. Thinking of Sierra, the tears almost came. Sicheii had raped her . . . raped her! His body stiffened with anger.

Taho gave a low whistle and shook his head sympathetically. "There's no coming back from that, boy."

"Why?" Sion demanded. "The council is reasonable --"

Lomasi and Taho laughed again, louder.

"Stop laughing!" Sion cried, tears in his eyes.

Sion was surprised when they stopped. They looked at him sympathetically.

"There is no such thing," Lomasi said softly, "as justice for lone wolves. You'd better learn that now, princess."

Sion's nostrils flared. He wished he would stop calling him princess! "And what did you two to do?" he demanded. He nodded his head at the bags of goods. "Besides steal from traveling merchants!"

Taho grinned. "Well, look at this now," he said, glancing at Lomasi. "He's so quick to judge - just like the same bastards that chucked him out." He looked at Sion seriously. "We found the poor turds in a mud ditch after the rain. Some other lone wolves had killed them."

"Slit their throats and left them to drown in their own blood," Lomasi added, nodding his long face. "They took most of their stuff - left the wagon broken."

"We got what was left," Taho finished.

"Too bad they took the ox what was pulling the wagon," Lomasi added mournfully. "We could've lived off an ox for weeks."

Sion made a face.

"Don't scowl, boy," Taho said, snorting. "A day out in these forests alone and you'll be eating bugs."

Sion jerked his chin. "I know how to hunt!"

The lone wolves laughed again.

"All the best hunting areas," Lomasi said, "are guarded jealousy by our friends the summer wolves. Do you know where we are, princess? We're sitting between three territories here."

"The winter village, the summer village, and the Seat of the red wolf," Taho added with a nod. "Those of the red kill intruders who fail to offer tribute - and they kill lone wolves and string them up as warnings for others to stay away."

"Winter wolves make a party out of it. They capture lone wolves for fun while they're hunting. Beat them, rape them, tie them up . . ."

"And the summer wolves . . . well, they just kill us on sight. No torture. No games. A quick, clean death."

Sion listened to the lone wolves in horror. "Then how are we supposed to hunt? How do we survive?"

"We don't," Taho said with a hollow laugh.

"You stick with us, princess. We'll look after you."

Sion grew very still when the lone wolves exchanged meaningful glances. Looking at them, he knew he had to get away. They may not have killed the merchants they had taken those goods from, but there was no telling what they were capable of.

"We should go to bed, princess."

"Been up since the night before caring for you."

". . . thank you," Sion said apologetically. It suddenly occurred to him that they had tended to his wounds and yet he had suspected them.

"You should go to sleep too," Lomasi said, smiling lustily. "You're pretty hurt there, pretty boy."

Sion looked away and said nothing. Lomasi's smile gave him the chills.

"We'll find something for you to eat tomorrow," Taho said with a friendly smile.

Sion nodded. Taho seemed nice. Maybe he should stay with them after all. But he looked at Lomasi again - who was still watching him hungrily - and had the feeling tall Lomasi was the one in charge. Whatever Lomasi wanted to do, Taho was likely to go along with it.

"Goodnight, princess," Lomasi said, gathering leaves to sleep on.

Sion glanced down and realized for the first time that he was sitting on a ragged bearskin. He nodded again and lay down on it. Lomasi watched him as he stretched out on his pile of leaves.

"I'll have first w-watch," Taho said quietly. He sounded nervous. Why?

Sion pushed away his confusion and fear and went to sleep. When he awoke again, the butcher knife was pressed against his throat.

"Don't move, princess," Lomasi said in his ear.

Sion lay very still on his back. His lips tightened when he realized Lomasi was on top of him, pressing the big knife just under his chin. He thought about calling to Taho for help, but one glance at the fire told him Taho was sitting there - watching miserably!

Sion couldn't believe it. The brown wolf was huddled on his pile of leaves, hugging his knees as he watched what was happening. He looked very sad and grim.

Sion's eyes went back to Lomasi. He noticed that the tall male was hard, and his heart started pounding as he realized what Lomasi wanted.

Lomasi nodded slowly. "That's right, princess," he whispered, his lusty eyes dancing over Sion. "This is your initiation. Every wolf that survives with me -- _fucks_with me. I have cared for you and bandaged you. I can feed you and protect you. In exchange, you will let me do whatever I want to this beautiful young body."

Sion glared. "What if I don't let you?"

Lomasi smiled. "Then you die."

"Just let him," Taho whispered from the fire. "It's better to just let him . . . it doesn't feel so bad . . . and surviving out here alone . . . it's hard."

"No!" Sion said at once. He looked at Taho, saw the brown wolf rocking and moaning, and knew he had gone through the same "initiation" -- and had come out rather disturbed for it. So Taho was a pet? A slave? A . . . wife? Sion looked at Lomasi and sneered: he'd rather die first.

Lomasi's smile widened the tiniest bit. "Do you think I'm playing with you? I'll fucking kill you. _Then_I'll fucking fuck you."

Sion trembled with rage. Looking up into the lone wolf's bright pitiless eyes, he realized that it was better to just play along. For now. He slowly nodded.

"Good boy," Lomasi whispered, and a gentle light filled his eye as he touched Sion's face. "Now. . . . I'm going to climb off you. And you . . . you're going to kneel with your ass in the air . . . and lift your tail."

Sion went cold with dread, but he slowly nodded again. Lomasi backed off and he sat up. This wasn't happening. It wasn't happening! But he looked at Lomasi's grinning face, at his rigid brown cock, and realized it was.

Sion got on his paws and knees, and as he stuck his backside in the air and lifted his tail, he realized for the first time what it was like to be a female. Females were expected to docilely allow strangers to fuck them at the mating season, and in exchange, they would be fed and protected . . . cared for. . . .

Sion's eyes flew open wide when Lomasi's tongue plunged his anus. His lashes fluttered and he squirmed with humiliation, startled by the pleasure. He gritted his teeth and tried not to get hard when Lomasi fondled him. The lone wolf rolled his dick carefully in his fingers, but he braced himself and stayed soft.

Sion had never been touched like this before. He had never done anything. Smitten with Sierra since the time he was small, he had saved himself for her. He'd never even been kissed. And now . . . some thin lone wolf was eating his ass! Touching his dick!

Lomasi pulled his mouth away and licked his lips.

Sion could feel the drool on his ass cheeks. He closed his eyes and wanted to die.

Lomasi stuck a finger in Sion's anus and fondled.

"Ah . . ." Sion whispered, frowning with pleasure. He gritted his teeth again, struggling to tune out what was happening.

"Uh!" Taho grunted.

Sion looked over, disgusted to see that Taho was jerking himself off. He looked away sheepishly when his eyes met Sion's. But then his eyes traced over Sion's tight muscular body as he knelt on paws and knees, and they glazed with lust.

Sion bowed his head and let his mane fall forward. He grimaced and his paws curled into fists when Lomasi's cock crammed hard in his ass. Sion felt his ass tear. He bit his lip to hold back a sob, and he felt the blood oozing hot between his ass cheeks. They began to rock, grunting and moaning. Sion was suddenly blinded by tears as he took it. Lomasi's paw smoothed carefully over his body, silently admiring.

"Oh, princess . . . you are so pretty . . . shit. I knew you'd be tight . . ."

"Ah . . ." Sion whispered weakly, panting, trying to keep quiet. But he couldn't. He gasped and moaned with each thrust. "Ah . . . ah . . . uh . . . oh . . ."

"That's it, princess," Lomasi whispered and fondled Sion's soft cock.

Sion felt himself stiffen a little and squeezed his eyes shut. "No!"

"Yes . . ." Lomasi whispered, and Sion was surprised when he leaned down and kissed his neck. "Yes, princess . . . moan, sigh . . ." He wrapped a strong arm around Sion and placed the butcher knife to his throat, fondling his cock as he humped him. He panted desperately in his ear. "God . . . you're so pretty, I'm not going to last long . . ."

"It h-hurts," Sion whimpered when the lone wolf's cock swelled thicker. "Take it out . . . Lomasi . . . please - ah!"

Lomasi stabbed his cock in hard, right to the base. "No."

"L-Lomasi," Taho whispered. "Get off him. . . . leave him alone."

"Shut up, Taho."

"You're hurting him!" Taho insisted.

Sion choked when Lomasi squeezed his dick hard. "No, I'm pleasuring him. He's starting to get hard, it's just taking long. He has to get used to the pain. . . ."

Sion's eyes widened, blank and distant as the pain in his taunt anus grew more intense. He could feel the blood oozing down his thighs. He looked at Taho helplessly. "Help . . . me . . ." he whispered weakly. Lomasi humped harder, banged into him, and he choked.

Taho's lip curled and he picked up a knife. It was Lomasi's carving knife, which he had left beside the fire. Sion was astonished to see tears in Taho's eyes as he shouted, "Leave him alone!"

Lomasi was astonished too. He stopped humping.

"You'll never rape me again!" Taho screamed. He lunged at Lomasi with the knife. They went rolling.

Sion sat up, watching in horror as the lone wolves struggled. Taho was on top of Lomasi, straining to stab him as Lomasi held his wrist at bay. The butcher knife was lying nearby. Sion made a move for it, but Lomasi grabbed it.

On his knees in the dirt, Sion reached out as the butcher knife became a blur in a vicious slash. "NO!"

Blood tossed. Taho slumped over, staring blankly at the sky.

"You killed him!" Sion shouted, scrambling at Lomasi. His fangs were bare in fury. He managed to sock Lomasi in the face. The lone wolf choked as blood spurted in his eyes. Snarling, he kneed Sion hard in the belly as he was leaning over him to hit again.

Sion rolled away and collapsed dismally in Taho's pooling blood. He listened to the breathless heaves of Lomasi as the tall wolf got heavily to his feet. Lomasi stood over Sion a long time, just glaring down at him. Sion lay gasping at his feet, feeling weak, battered, and torn, watching as dark blood dripped from the knife in Lomasi's paw.

"He didn't have to die," Lomasi whispered angrily. "If you had just taken it like a male . . . Taho would have lived."

Sion scowled. "T-Taho tried to protect me . . . he did the right thing."

Lomasi laughed hollowly. "Out here, princess . . . there is no right thing."

Sion was surprised when Lomasi dropped the bloody knife . . . and quietly walked away.

He never saw Lomasi again. He used the last ounce of his strength to bury Taho, who looked sad and pained, even in death. Then he spent the next four years surviving. And keeping in mind that there was no right and wrong in the forest.

He was now twenty.

"Sion . . . Pie's not enough. I'm still hungry," Zalia said, breaking Sion from his reverie.

"And you were gonna tell us how you got banished," Keeno added pointedly.

Sion smiled. "No, I wasn't."

Keeno frowned at him, frustrated. "You think we're too little to know! We are not!"

Sion chuckled and sat back. "Why don't I tell you a story instead?"

Keeno hesitated, still looking frustrated, but Zalia went to Sion at once and sat on his lap.

"Are there unicorns?" Zalia whispered, laying her head on the young male's shoulder.

Sion smiled and touched her mane. "If you want there to be, little one."