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Saturday, 1st May 830 / Melessen

His face was a wicked grin of tightly clasped together teeth, the man advancing on me with deliberate slowness. His eyes were blue flames, condensed malice sparking in them, and I found myself paralysed, unable to as much as scream, his ferret cheeks strained and trembling in an onward widening grimace of perverted joy.

His voice grazed the silence, piercing it, filling it. "Your balance is... broken like this. The other ear has to go too."

The ball mask squirmed on his face, wrinkling like a harmonica over his short muzzle, the quivering flesh moist and flexing as if live muscles. My throat tensed and a meek whimper escaped my lips. A silent plea to spare me.

His voice grazed the silence, piercing it, filling it. "The sleaze, the pain, the filth...you revel in it, you love it with your life whole. For you, this is an act of love."

I felt no fear, no anxiety, nor even terror. I felt...I felt the thin edge piercing my flesh.

The words seeped through his teeth as if it were a torrent of virile seed, impregnating me with the spawns of his ideas. "Yes, your true sense. You cannot fill her prophecy untainted. With pain comes true belief."

I screamed at the top of my lungs, not in pain, fear, sheer despair...but in acceptance as the foreign tool was forced into my flesh. Not the only perpetrator of my to-be-tainted form, as my nether lips ached when the man forcefully spread them apart with his phallus ready.

Everything blurred around me, a cough clawed from my throat as I stirred violently from my resting place. What made clear sense in my dream-turned-nightmare disappeared, leaving only the numbing reality to take place. But the nightmare lived on in me, steering my emotions in each and every coming moment.

In front of me was standing a familiar ferret, the Duke of Melessen stiffly frozen in place and clutching a serving tray in his paws, his thin eyebrows slightly lifted. I caught up with my breath and looked at the man, who slowly walked next to a luxurious bed I was nested in, his matte textile jacket swaying stiffly with him.

He spoke softly, "Lady? How do you feel?" The tray rattled as he laid it on a glossy wood of a night table, and then rubbing his hands, looked in my eyes. "A stupid question. Do you need anything?"

Mistrust was all I could think of. "You ask every slave how they feel?"

"I'll leave you to rest." Schimon curled his lips, turning his gaze away from me.

I shuffled to the edge of the bed, a heavy blanket sliding off my body and revealing an emerald green blouse, smelling of flowers and keeping my dignity intact. And outstretching my hand - the whole of my body stinging painfully - I asked the duke to stay.

I faltered at first, only the itch of my lips forcing me to speak. "You have a lot to explain. Not that I'm not thankful."

"I didn't want to this soon. But I have questions too." He hid his hands behind his back.

"Why save me, Schimon? You wanted a personal sex slave?"

His answer was resolute. "Absolutely not! I needed closure for all this."

I could tell he was not telling the truth, but as a jolt of pain announced itself in my skull, I cringed and covered my forehead. "Closure...what day is today?"

"Saturday, my lady."

"The date."

"...err. First of May. Yes."

In a daze that robbed me of my senses, I closed my eyes, realizing how much time had passed - and that without my leather covered diary, I couldn't hope to tell what the last day I remembered was. Exhaling, the duke sat next to me, leaning his back on a thick post of a frivolous bed canopy. Looking me over with his small eyes, his gaze gently flowed about my features, as if giving me an imaginary stroke of his delicate paws.

His voice was emotionless. "Did you enjoy breaking a man's heart? You played me a fool and only a stroke of fate revealed that. What was it? The coin? Your joy in having control over me?"

My every thought returned back to the night of my capture; I couldn't find the willpower to explain. "There's a different reason."

"So?" He shot impatiently.

"Please... I can't now." If only there was a simple way to recover, an elixir of kind, to numb my pain and wash it away.

The duke stood up. "You're free to stay in Melessen until you recover. I urge you, it is a beautiful city, take a look around, perhaps it will help."

"Didn't you buy me?"

Hiding his hands behind his back again, he tried to smile softly, but it only came out as a strange smirk. "My duchy is slavery free. Not that the king acknowledges that. In a way, I can understand such system, for really, if a man can't function on his own, what use is freedom to him? When you're unable to assert your choices for yourself, doesn't it make this freedom into your own personal cage? One simply has to eat and drink to survive." He closed his eyes and growled softly. "I'm sorry lady. I didn't want to burden you with my thoughts."

I couldn't think of anything to say. Only when I stood up did I realise how deeply sore my body was, the long days of abuse etched firm into my muscles and bones. Schimon's eyes dilated at my sight, though he looked to the side and closed his eyelids after not even a second.

Pushing away a thick curtain I looked through a window, sprayed with droplets of clear water raining from the overcast sky. I felt sorrow at the sight, yet at the same time, I found it strangely soothing. "I need a bow and a sword. And light armour."

"For what...why would a lady of your qualities need such crude instruments?" he asked, surprised.

"I handle all type of shafts." I let it sink into his head, his expression flowing from simple confusion into shameful, almost aroused grimace.

"You want to kill Lilith?" The duke walked next to me, sweeping his feet across the beige carpet wildly. "Gods, I know what she does to prisoners, but you will die if you go against her."

My left ear burned uncomfortably. "If I let her get away with it, I'm never recovering." I had no second thoughts about it. "Help me or trot out of my way."

Schimon stroked the tip of his muzzle, his upper lip visibly swollen. "I don't hope to restrain your desire. That devil caused me more trouble than everyone else combined. But I urge you, stay in Melessen for a few more days. It pains me that you want to leave right now."

"You want to fuck me?"

He jolted in place akin to a criminal caught during his act. "You have me for that?!" Looking through the window, down at his own city covered in soft mist, he seemed to be speaking more to himself than with me. "After the ball I couldn't think of anything or anyone else... Lilith berated me like a little child. To hell with her. I wanted you. So I could feel...." His voice tailed.

"Feel what? Me filling your every desire for the five thousand coin you paid?" I broke into a sob, my voice a desperate whisper. "How could have I let this happen to me...."

"It pains me even more to see you this depressed." He tried to gently squeeze my shoulder but I flinched instinctively, any touch disgusting me to no end. "Get some rest. Ask the servants if you need me. And there are some clothes in the wardrobe, if you decide to take a walk." Before leaving the spacious bedroom he asked me one last thing. "You're not my prisoner. Leave whenever you want, but please, tell me before you do."

Only after the thick wooden door closed behind him, I exclaimed, "Thanks, Schimon."

What was I to do? I needed to be alone, or at least I thought I did, but in all honesty, I wanted for Amand to be with me. More than anything I needed someone who I could trust. And as a result, a horrifying image emerged in my pained mind, of the wolf flicking through my diary, rudely wallowing in my deepest thoughts. Or perhaps taking all of my gold and leaving with it...ditching the fox bitch that caused him so much struggle and starting anew.

I opened a big, ornate wardrobe, whiffing in the smell of clean, noble clothes. The rest of the day I spent trying on clothes and eyeing myself in a big window placed next to it. Tight stockings, luscious corsets, voluminous skirts, restrictive pants.... All made of expensive materials and so many my head reeled from the amount itself. But eventually, I found clothes that felt the most like me; a dark grey pants, smooth, sturdy, and as result, long lasting. And combining them with a bordeaux jacket of several folds of textile - from under the most prominent of the neckline emerging a puffy cloth of a luxurious white blouse - I finished the attire with high boots of a dark brown colour, its belts hugging my ankles tightly.

Tying my hair sloppily at neck level I prepared to leave. I placed my paw on a cold, bronze handle of the door, but no matter how much I focused, I couldn't find the willpower in me to twist it open. Fully clothed I fell back into the bed, sobbing myself to sleep.

Sunday, 2nd May 830 / Melessen

Schimon's home wasn't a castle at all. It was reasonably big mansion built some distance from the streets of Melessen, but close enough that it appeared like a regular house of the city. Elevated on a small mount, the lush foliage of the constantly rustling trees covered it in an aura of privacy. The place was a balm for my tortured soul, hidden under the overcast skies, the city's long boulevards lined by two story buildings constructed with delicate care. It was a place stuck in time, an imaginary place of the best of the cheap novels come true.

I felt a lot better the second day of my stay, but that didn't stop me from lashing out during a breakfast with Schimon. Getting over the fact that, officially, I was his slave, was simply beyond me. It didn't even occur to me I could coax him into contacting the underground, controlled as I was by my pain and anger. Blinded in red haze I walked towards the barracks and guards' quarters, slipping behind the men and right into the armoury. The place was empty much to my luck, and very quickly I found what I wanted - a simple longbow and a quiver of sharp arrows. I played with the bow string in between my fingers, when a steel handle of a shortsword flashed in the dim light.

It was sheathed, lying free for grabs on a rough looking table. Finding some belts and pouches I fastened all the weaponry onto my body, contemplating whether to raid Schimon's kitchen too or get on the road immediately. The massive door of the armoury screeched open and in one swift motion, I snatched the bow from my back and with an arrow ready aimed it at a guard that had found me.

The morph wasn't scared by my new weapon at all. "As is the usual foxes come raiding my storeroom."

I sneered, "I don't care if it's just your job. Try to restrain me and you'll get the arrow."

Acting civil he lighted a wall hanging lantern, the soft yellow light reflecting on the white facial fur of his leopard face. "Calm down. I know who you are. The boss runs his mouth about you all the time."

"The bastard. He said anything interesting?"

He chuckled in a mean way, "How to put it. He seemed very fond of your...skills." The olive coloured guard garb of his gave an ominous vibe, but the man seemed, and more importantly, smelled, friendly enough. Crossing arms he added. "He didn't mention these skills though. That's the fastest draw I've seen in a while."

I grinned, pulling the arrow back. "Then you know not to anger me. Move aside."

"No can do," He said, licking his fangs. "Those weapons are my property, and I'm not giving them free."

"Are you mad?!" I shouted, pulling the string even further back. If he was to ask me of what I thought, I wouldn't hesitate in giving him the arrow treatment.

The snow leopard lifted his paws, opening his palms at me. "I worded myself wrong. If you're as skilled as you make yourself out to be, I could use someone to teach my men how not to shoot oneself in the foot." The guy was quite old, despite the fact that he looked cute as a kitten asking.

I eased the pull on the string and lowered the tip of the arrow, giving him the benefit of doubt.

Speaking softly he asked me to follow. "Come. Don't worry about the door, someone will close it." His long tail lazily rolled in the air as I followed him right after.

With my bow still at the ready we eventually arrived at the training grounds, where several members of the guard were training fencing and archery. Handful of them were women, hardened warrior vixens such as myself. The first cheery thought I had.

The leopard led me to a free firing lane quite some distance away, to a fresh target void of any arrows. "That is the regular training distance. Don't be shy!" He then turned attention to the other guards, helping them with the technique where possible.

Looking at the other targets being sloppily filled with arrows, I knew the other trainees were no challenge. Calming fully and emptying myself of thought, I aimed the bow and pulled the string slowly. The jolt of pleasure as I released the string lifted my cheeks in a smile, my arrow etching itself in the centre of the target. I knew the motion better than my own name, another one of my arrows whistling in the air right after. Dead centre. Some heads already turned, but only when the third arrow nested itself next to the other two did it produce a reaction.

The leopard exclaimed happily, "By the gods...you didn't lie."

Of course someone had to be sceptical; to my aggravation it was one of the warrior vixens. "A lucky streak. Everyone gets those." Her squeaky voice boiled my blood.

To shut her face I loaded a fourth arrow and fired it into the cluster, sending splinters flying as it comfortably joined the rest of the arrows. Despite her initial reaction the young red fox cheered, "Never mind then. I'm just pissed there is a vixen that shoots better than me." How nice it felt hearing that.

"So what do you say? Feel like giving a lecture or two?" The morph guard asked me as I continued emptying the quiver at a slow pace.

I couldn't help but feel reserved. "Crowds are not my thing." I slowly exhaled to fire an arrow. "Perhaps personal lectures."

Scratching his nose he insisted. "A great talent goes wasted if you don't pass it to others. Don't worry, I'll handle the crowd, you concentrate on archery."

With the quiver empty I faced him, his eyes squinting under the rays of the sun - only once did the sky in Melessen decide to clear up. "Not going to lie. Being appreciated for skill is always nice. Okay, I'm going to do this. Besides, how I can I turn down such a cute cat?"

"I'm not a cat!" he whined. "I'm a well formed leopard."

Drunk from all the attention I chuckled. "Don't get ideas, well formed, I'm just teasing."

He bathed me in a smile and the lesson started. And just like with Amand back in Cyrila, I greatly enjoyed passing my knowledge to others. The guards listened to my run down of the advanced techniques, and whenever they had trouble or struggled, I individually helped them to improve. Most of the time I gravitated around the vixens, even if their attitude left a lot to be desired. I just longed to help them improve, feeling strangely...responsible for them.

The training took most of my day, after which I found myself fatigued enough to crumble on the spot. I collected my arrows to leave and the snow leopard bid me goodbye. "Thanks for the help. I'd say you earned those weapons, but stop by to teach some more if you have nothing to do."

I shook his hand, the pads of his fingers slightly moist, and I smiled fondly at him. "Look out for the girls. I should know that the life of a warrior is not an easy one."

He responded, "They are tough as nails. They'd never admit it, but you really impressed them. Thanks again, and if you ever need anything-"

"I'll raid the armoury."

His sudden laughter pierced my ears, "Hahaha! Yeah, I'll be waiting then. Take care."

"Take care yourself."

The day had filled me with some hope. I tried to find Schimon back at the mansion, but he was nowhere to be found. The new equipment jingled sharply as I traversed a stone stairwell to the second floor, and then I had to cross a long hallway to reach my room. I slowly stripped myself naked and before long, I borrowed my muzzle in the soft sheets. And what a long night it was, as I couldn't fall asleep no matter how much I tried to relax.

Tuesday, 4th May 830 / Melessen

To battle my depression I had spent the whole of Monday training with the guards of Melessen. I had certainly enjoyed firing from the bow, but not so much the fencing, since I have always found it dull and tedious. And as a result, I was so strained in the morning I kept staring at the light blue canopy for a better part of an hour, before I mustered the little amount of will needed to roll off the bed and get on with my day.

After sliding my aching body into the nice clothes I tried to look for Schimon, but to no avail. I slowly explored the mansion, letting myself get lost in its pompous hallways and intricate rooms, all fully decorated with glossy furniture and blossoming flowers, before I walked into the streets of the city. The sky hopelessly overcast, I loomed among the stone tiled boulevards, steering away from other people. Conversation was the last thing I wanted, but at the same time, I felt a stinging need to open to someone.

I walked ever increasing portions of the city, so strangely inviting with its none too overdone architecture, yet so eerie with emptiness and gloomy, dim light. My feet decided on the direction and I closed myself in my mind, and as days were starting to pass by all too fast, I had to decide on what to do. I had to find the wolf, the solitary of the men, the one I had true feelings for. He was my priority over both the last reminder of my lost father, the golden ring he gave me, and the diary I clung so strong to ever since I had started writing in it.

Then again, there were my other strong motivators, the captain of the royal guard Lilith, and her sleazy bastard of a son, Bosnar. My body was trembling at the merest thought of either of the two. But, what after that.... Wander endlessly again?

I caught a sight of a run-down entrance of a building, at first glance an abandoned tavern of the most luxurious kind. I gazed at a sign posted on the glass filled door, quite proudly stating 'For Sale', written by hand in curvaceous calligraphy. It was not a rational thought of mine; I simply twisted the handle open, and as it was unlocked, I walked in unannounced. The interior itself had a dozen or more round tables strewn over the wooden tiles of the dirty floor, two big chandeliers hanging low from the ceiling and wrapped in textile, not to mention a balcony overlooking the site supported on square, wooden columns.

A cloud of dust picked up as I sat myself behind one of the tables, and closing my hands together on top of it, I stained the sleeves of the luxurious jacket with a thick layer of dirt. I was too lost in my thoughts to mind. The place seemed perfect, despite its clearly decaying form and crumbling wood, deeply engrained with rot. I dreamed of running my own very delicious brothel, in my own very delicious way. I called it Warrior Vixen, and populated it with ever lusty vixens like myself, teaching them both the ways of the sword and eyebrow-raising courting. There wouldn't be a sword in the world we couldn't handle.

Such a juvenile little fantasy, but those are always the most fun to lose oneself in. A door screeched open, followed by a loud meander of a gruff voiced male. I kept myself seated, when the human male accompanied two morphs to the door. On his way he glanced my way, flinching once but otherwise ignored me and locked the entrance behind the visitors.

He appeared distressed, as little as I could see of his face hidden under a hat. "Are you a vagrant?"

"Tsk. Do I look like one?" I groaned, annoyed to be forced out of my imagination.

The man's suit bulged as he reached for something on his belt, keeping his hand out of my eyes reach. "Are you here to see the building? I'd rather not call the guards."

I laughed malevolently, springing from behind the table. "The streets are empty! How do you hope to get help?"

He jumped two paces back with bulging eyes, clutching a handle of an ornate rapier in his pale hand. The fear I induced in him was almost palpable.

"Relax." I calmly said, knowing I went over the edge. "I didn't mean anything by it."

"You didn't mean...gosh. You scared me mindless. Never show me those fangs again."

I resisted my mischievous urge to grin and asked, "This used to be a tavern? Looks like someone left the door open for a few years, given how fallen apart it is."

The man sheathed the rapier, its edge ringing pleasantly. "It's even more pragmatic than that. Do you want a tour through?"

"Mmm, no. Just tell me the price."

"A hundred thousand."

My mind reeled from the high number. This vixen was simply too poor to even hope to reach that amount. I excused myself, and rushed out as soon the door swung open, my anxiety growing to unmanageable levels. I walked through the streets back to Schimon's mansion, and as with every step I was calming myself and gaining focus, I knew very well what I wanted.

The duke was surrounded by dusty books in his office, rubbing a quill in his fingers when I had finally found him after two days of his absence. That ferret face of his lighted up in a fond smile as he gazed at me deeply, but it was not long before the curve of his smile crumbled into a pain filled grimace.

"Sorry for leaving you alone. It is only...this duchy is my everything, and I had to attend to some issues out of town." He dropped the quill on the yellowed pages of one of the open books.

"I still can't wrap my head around why you saved me, Schimon."

"Is that what keeps troubling you?" As if to emphasize his words, a flame of a fireplace flickered, throwing ominous shadows at the bookcase covered walls.

"And shouldn't it?" My voice growled in my throat. "Why? Why pay five thousand for a vixen that played you?"

The duke sighed, his eyes glassing over. "I don't even know anymore." Closing eyes he stood up and reached with his hand toward me. "Ah.... Care for a dance?"

I couldn't see myself dancing with the man. "Schimon...."

"Do I ask that much?"

Frowning I grabbed his paw and the duke tip-toed around the table, stroking my waist with his fingers as he firmly pressed his body against mine.

He swooped his foot across a smooth beige carpet in the first step of our dance. "Just like that night. How sweet you seemed."

I kept my thoughts for myself as the man lead me onward into the lie that was the orchestrated sequence of steps. "Why did it have to end like this, I ask myself. The one time when I meet someone magnificent, and it is only an utterly constructed lie."

Avoiding his gaze I steered in a wrong direction; focusing on dancing proved too much for me. I decided to confess. "No use dancing around it. I was asked to charm you-"

"And charm you did." His fingers pads tickled the fur of my chin as he stroked it tenderly. "I know of your assignment."

I glanced at a window behind the man's work table. Outside the thin mist rolled over the dark roofs of the city. Aiming my gaze back at him, I was met by his dark-blue eyes, the fur of his eye sockets moist with tears. "How?" I asked, anxious.

His expression was a sadness filled painting. "Do you know a wolf named Amand?"

An unexpected bolt of joy rushed through me, just the name of the wolf enough to excite me. "He is here?!"

Schimon chuckled lightly, yet the corners of his mouth were still firmly pointing down. "The poor fool is waiting for you in the dining room. And I have to add, he is very clearly in love with you."

I instinctively took a turn for the door, looking forward seeing the wolf's pointy muzzle again. But Schimon held my hand firmly and sneered at me through his small fangs, "Not yet. For saving your life, you could at least hear me out."

"What use is it going to be? Hate me or love me, all is just pain now."

"Can't say I'm not angry, but I cannot bring myself to hurt you." He laughed humourless. "I thought I'd at least have some fun with you, but, when I see you like this. Even if you tricked me, you gave me the most beautiful memory of my life."

The pressure on my hand subsided and my paw fell limply to my side. I could walk away right the instant, turn on heel and never return. But instead, I found myself frozen in place, listening to Schimon's trembling voice as he looked down upon his city, his stoic expression reflected in the clean glass.

"How many times I attended the stupid ball, how many. Dancing with high ladies of the kingdom, each just like the other. All a fake act of compassion and no bonding whatsoever." The long flames of the fireplace cracked in the absence of his voice. "I devoted my whole life to this duchy. Pft. Maybe I should have drunk my time away just like my brothers, damn wrong doers. At least they fucked their share of pussy."

I shivered from the barrage of his words, more so as he turned away from the window and faced my way, his normally calm eyes ablaze with hate. "I still can't stop loathing my first love Catarina, to this very forsaken day! I met the damned wench at my dancing lessons. We swore our love to each other, and when we attend our first ball together, she leaves me. Just like that."

Walking frantically about the room he was downright shouting, the tone of his voice changing pitch faster than a wolf with an arrow stuck in his pelvis. "How fed up I am of everything. This duchy is falling apart because of that cunt Lilith and her selfish conspiring. The bandits constantly roam the roads, harassing what little traders come here. And my only joy of dancing...fails to bring me any joy whatsoever!" With his last word he crumbled onto a padded sofa and clutched his face in his paws. The fur of his forehead stirred and squirmed, as he rubbed it erratically with his fingertips.

I hesitated, but seeing him a heaving mess on the sofa, I walked over and sat next to him. I stroked the back of his hand and he continued, calmer. "What can I say, you're the only woman in my life that at least pretended to care. In my fragile heart I simply appreciate that."

"You'd be amazed how often I hear that." Rubbing his shoulder I pulled the man closer and hugged him, resting my muzzle on his shoulder. His flocks of straight, dark-grey hair tickled my nose, and I felt his breath brushing my hair as the duke burrowed his muzzle in it.

Softly he spoke, "I joined the cause. It is a godsend with how the affairs are. I have no choice other than to follow orders of some underground brute, if my duchy is to strive."

"Mana is no simple brute. Even if he appears as one. Don't worry, he's a good man."

Schimon exhaled soundly, squeezing me in the hug and then distanced. "I'll take your word for it." He looked me over and smiled fondly, then extended his hand and stroked the side of my cheek. "As strange as it sounds, thanks for everything."

To lighten the mood I joked a little. "That was something hearing you swear. I mean, if Lilith heard you calling her cunt?"

Straightening to full height he reached in his jacket, and presenting me several documents, his tail began to sway with growing energy. "I wouldn't mind seeing her go. So if you decide to kill her, here is a fake identity for you. No forgery mind you, this is original. I am a duke, everything said and done, dear lady."

"Oh come on. She elbows you once and you want to kill her straight away?" I snatched the paperwork, only glancing over the words inscribed.

He withdrew one list from the pile, literally clawing into the tensed paper. "Amusing how according to this, you're my property. The thought alone is surreal." Delicately working his fingers to the edge of the document he ripped it slightly. "Unless Amand would want it...."

My stomach stirred a little. "He is not like that."

"Guess I am attracted to the worst kind, then. Err...that was not meant to be derogatory to you, lady." He ripped the document in half, and throwing it in the crimson red flames of the ornate fireplace, the paper shrivelled and charred under the unforgiving licks of the burning wood. "This is when I say farewell. A wild blossom like you would wither and die if confined to one place by force. I hope you get better, and I hope even more to hear from you again."

I saddened on top of my bad mood. Under different circumstances, I'd give the duke a memory he would truly never forget. "I might, this place is in a dire need of a brothel. Thanks for saving me, and giving me a place to rest. Expect incoming news of a slain wolf."

"This city used to have a grandiose one, before a lone individual with too much power in his hands decided that courtesans are common criminals." He sat back behind his work desk. "Goodbye, Marcella. I wish you luck."

"Goodbye."

I had mixed feelings of the duke at best, but I was glad we parted on good terms. He wasn't a bad man per se, just had some quirks that really showed under pressure. Kind of like his sweet scent with that stingy, spicy undertone. It was a swift walk downstairs and to the dining room, as I rushed to meet my little wolf from the valley of Ferlow.

Throwing the double door open I was met with a familiar image. My lone-wolf Amand with his short, bushy wolf tail hanging down from the chair he was sitting on, his dark-black tribal braids splayed over his shoulders, the violet attire of his villager clothing covered by several belts and pouches - most mine - and that lovely muzzle of his sipping from a bowl of soup. I softly tapped on the carpet, hoping to get a jump on him. But he caught a whiff of me, those brown wolf eyes ever so wide as he sprung from his seat.

"Marcella!" His ears fluttered in a lively rhythm. "I'm so glad you're all right!"

The little wolf was all over me before I could react in the slightest, hugging me tightly. I let myself get lost in his embrace, and looking at him, smiled wide and whispered, "Gosh... I never thought I'd miss you this much."

I couldn't get enough of him as we were standing still for what felt like all of eternity, our bodies tightly entwined together. I felt his sleek fingers exploring the every curve of my face, when he hit what was intact of my left ear.

Amand exclaimed with a shocked tone of voice, "What had happened to you?"

"Not now. I'm just happy you're here." For the moment, I pretended nothing else existed.

The lovely grain of the wolf's voice was balm to my ears, "The duke is a man of his word. I was worried he'd trick me."

And Schimon was a man of his word again, when I asked him if we could stay for one more night. Back in my room I slipped under the sheets with Amand. The wolf had dedicated so much to me; his love was hard to deny. But deep inside, I was still conflicted about him. For the night, I let my conflicts steer out of the way and I fell asleep clutching his paw tightly.

Wednesday, 5th May 830 / Melessen

The night was a troubled nightmare of every disdain I had to face during my time in the dungeon. It was a true relief waking up with the wolf Amand softly snoring next to me, lying stomach down on the bed and outstretched like a plank of wood. What held my attention for long minutes was his short tail, completely motionless and aiming straight up like a high tower of Cyrila Capital. The wolf had brought with him all of my possessions, which we had sloppily discarded at the foot of the luxurious bed the day before.

I felt my strength returning to me with every piece of attire I slipped into, my leather armour fitting me as if I had never removed it. I looked at myself in the mirror, and seeing my pantyless sex peeking at me from under my blouse, I frowned, knowing I wouldn't grace any male with my privates any time soon. The dark pants took care of that problem.

Each of my old weapons I gently caressed before fastening them onto me, and checking the fake bottom of my quiver, I found there my gold filled, magical pouch. Just for that alone I gently stroked the wolf's tail. And then of course, my diary, the little leather covered journal which means so much to me. It was tied close with a small string, as if stating, 'no, I truly did not read it.' I went on to write in it for most of the morning, soaking several pages in tears. Not even one of my wounds had closed by that point.

"Can I help?" The wolf startled me as he woke up.

I closed the journal and rolled back onto the bed. "I don't think anyone can... bar me."

He gently wiped my tears, resting his hand under my cheek. "What happened at the ball? None of this makes sense to me."

I only gazed at him, my mind a cacophony of million different thoughts; all loud and fighting for my attention. I opened my muzzle to speak, only to cringe and fall into a fit of sobbing.

"Shhh. I'm here for you." The wolf pulled me closer. "I know you hate talking about yourself, but I can't help you if you never tell me."

What was I to say. "I failed terribly. The captain of the guard...she sniffed me out. Threw me in jail a criminal." I shakily drew breath, my nose whistling like a flute. "Tortured me and... and...her fuck of a son raped me." My chest burned with pain and shame, I regretted my decision to tell him immediately.

Amands eyes bulged out, his expression melting into a terror filled wreck. "That is... Damn it, who could do something like that?! I-"

"Don't sweat it. I'm going to kill them both."

He remained silent. It was clear he didn't know what to say; hell, I myself didn't even know what to think. All the recent pain in my life dominated my thoughts; when I had to offer myself to get into Krelholm, the killing of the bandits in the cave during which I almost lost my life, and the attack of Amands former tribesmen. The emotions came bubbling unannounced, as if only then they caught up with me.

"Wasn't the name of the guy Bosnar?" Amand hesitantly asked.

Not thinking, I lashed out, "You've read my diary?!"

"No." Amand's ears folded. "Villion mentioned the name. That you wanted him as payment."

"Villion is here?"

"Not quite. Some way from here is an old house hidden in the woods. He should have him captured by now."

My heart skipped a beat. Would the bastard really be served to me on a silver platter? "Then what are we waiting for?!" I urged him, packing the rest of my things as I was ready to leave.

I left Melessen and Schimon behind me, rushing along the well-kept roads of the duchy. I couldn't wait to take out my anger on Bosnar, the hate for the bastard filling every ounce of my strained body. But it was not long before I lost power and we had to stop on a forest clearing, my chest irregularly shaking as I pushed myself one bit too far.

Leaning on a thick oak tree I tried to calm myself, when Amand approached me. "There is something that might help." His muzzle sharpened under his soft smile.

He sat on the forest grass, legs crossed to support him, and turned his hands palm-up. I gave him a quizzical look. "Is that some high spirited ritual of your tribe? I thought you guys did these only when you needed to inseminate someone."

The wolf sneered back, "Stop giving me shit for my tribe! I'm tired of it." His response surprised me at first, yet knowing I hadn't treated the wolf fairly quite a lot of our time together, I felt sorry. I walked over to him and stroked his muzzle, his fur feeling rough to the touch.

Before withdrawing my hand I teased his nose and asked him to continue, "Sorry for that. Now show me, please." The wolf parted his lips and softly sighed, as if melting from my gesture.

I lowered myself onto the ground in front of him and copied his posture, waiting for him to start. His voice came as a soft shuffling, the words lazily rolling off his tongue as he prepared to begin. "The shaman of my former tribe taught me this. It is meant to give one peace, or in his words, to become one with the spirits. All you have to do is to close your eyes and concentrate on my voice."

In closing my eyes I gave my trust to him, my senses fixating on whistles of the wind piercing through the tree leafs high above us. Then, suddenly, the wolf began chanting. It was such a stream of words I could decipher none of it, and in focusing further on his voice to try and understand, the chanting gradually picked in intensity. It not only came from his muzzle, but from all directions at once. Out of simple curiosity I opened my eyelids in a thin line.

His eyes were firmly shut, but as if sensing me, he abruptly stopped. "It won't work if you peek."

I closed my eyelids and his chanting began anew. The peace and calmness that started to fill me from the ground up was ethereal. My limbs as if fully vanished. I tried moving my fingers but nothing came back; I was detached from my very own body. Then the sensation of simply drawing air disappeared, my nose flaring one last time before it vanished. And once my slow heartbeat crossed into nothing, the whole, complicated world we have to live in faded into the sole sensation of Amand's soothing chant.

I drifted along, observing my deepest thoughts anew, detached from myself. What hurt at first slowly submerged into acceptance; a strange glow I could see within my imagination. As soon as I tried to explore the phenomenon further, my spirit, for the lack of a better word, was sucked back into the meaty vessel of my vixen body. I inhaled harshly, as if for the first time ever, and the wolf smiled ear to ear, perking his ears proudly.

I could say I was feeling better. "I wondered how you kept so calm all the time. Why have you never showed me before?"

"I didn't think you'd appreciate it," he responded calmly.

"Why are you with me, Amand? Why follow me like a tail everywhere." Despite all the harsh pain in me, my feelings towards the wolf stood out most prominently among the others.

"Because I want to." His wolf brush swished in the air behind him. "I love you."

"Don't give me that. What do you want?"

His unmoving expression was hard to read, yet against my expectations, he shared, "I'm with you long enough to be open. I always knew what I wanted, a family."

"Starting a family with a courtesan? I don't know, Amand."

"You're overcomplicating again. You are my family." He rubbed his fingertips. "People always ditched me because of what I wasn't. Perhaps, you can have me for what I am."

"A wolf lost in the world?"

"And what are you?" he barked back.

"A fox lost in the world."

I don't know what was stranger, if the sharp glow in his wolf eyes, or if my acceptance of him I sensed growing in my heart. I shuffled over to the wolf through the low grass, and sitting in his lap, I pressed my lips on the side of his muzzle. He growled happily and I murred with him, my tail swishing in the air vigorously, giving away my emotions. It was a beautiful moment we spent together, no words were spoken, no further disparities explored; only the two of us cuddled closely together and surrounded by the wonders of mother nature.

It was night by the time we arrived at our destination, a run-down stone house deeply hidden amid dense greenwood foliage. Up close I realized my misjudgement; everything functionally needed was well kept and working, the door perfectly seated in hinges; even if the wood was a dishevelled mess, and the windows layered with dirt, giving them a strong appearance of decay.

Amand smirked before knocking on the door, giving them a sharp beating of his knuckle.

I just had to ask, "What's so funny?"

"You're going to see."

The simple yet sturdy door opened void of any sound, from behind them appeared Villion and his pair of steely, very brightly glowing irises.

"Walk right in." I couldn't help but frown at the sound of the bear's voice.

Inside, the small house was illuminated by a sole magical light, submerging everything in an aura of orange colour. The place had three adjacent rooms, all hidden behind closed doors, and a big dining table in its centre covered by a layer of paper scrolls and magical devices. A barren place of no decorations whatsoever, empty, cold and with no other reason to exist but to serve. Villion offered us seats, but I chose to cushion my still sore behind on a simplistic bed tucked in a corner.

The bear wizard spoke with a tired tone of voice. "Well, I do have to say I'm glad you're alive."

I laughed stiffly, "No more hating my guts? How come?"

"I grew sentimental of you calling my balls shrivelled plums in your absence." Villion snapped his fingers and the light intensified, allowing us to see better. "Humour aside, this assignment is a disaster. It was more luck than anything that the duke joined us. But that fool Mana wants to reward you. So...." He threw me a magical pouch from out of his pocket; judging by the weight, about nine hundred gold coins were hidden inside.

I deeply growled. "You don't know what I went through, you bastard."

His retort was sharp and to the point, "You knew what you were getting into." I wanted to fling the bed on the top of his head. Ultimately, the bastard was right.

"What's with your eye?" The question slipped from me, as one of the bear's eyes was a swollen lump of flesh, hiding an eyeball fully red with blood enlarged vessels.

Amand finally joined the conversation. "He refused to tell me where Melessen is. Well, not that I could go looking for you, locked in his house."

Grinding teeth, the master wizard explained. "Yes, so your savage lover cracked my eye with his fist."

"Knocked some sense in your thick head." The wolf added, chuckling maliciously.

That was the last thing I'd ever expect from my timid and well-mannered lone-wolf. Just imagining it, I laughed soundly. "Really? And he hadn't skinned you alive?"

Amand shrugged. "No. And that was after I returned him the gem."

It was a silent minute after, accompanied only by the pleasant humming of Villion's magical light. The bear straightened from his seat slowly, as if every bone in his body was to break if he tried faster, and opened one of the doors. "As Mana - the damned fool - ordered, there is someone waiting for you downstairs. I got everything I needed from him, he is all yours." That was it. Only a mere handful of steps down was Bosnar, the man of my vengeful desire, powerlessly waiting for my arrival.

I clenched fists and turned for the dark stairwell. However, my wolf lover stopped me in my tracks, clawing at the leather of my jacket. "Think this through. Is it worth killing him?"

I shooed him off, obsessed with the kill. "Don't follow me."

The basement was far bigger than the humble structure built on top of it. Apart from a large storeroom littered with enough food to last two or more years, it also had two long hallways connected, each leading to dozen other small rooms. I rubbed my palms together and from my right paw emerged a ray of light, the only other slightly useful spell that the mage had taught me. With masked breath I searched the pitch black rooms, the taps of my metal tipped boots against the rough stone floor echoing sharply. How wide I grinned when I found the one room turned into a provisory cell, with one despicable human being chained to a pole.

"Comfy on the other side of the chain, Bosnar?" A torch sparked ablaze as I lighted it with the touch of my fingers. "Something tells me you like it."

The room was indeed small, far tinier than the cell Lilith had forced me in, and not prepared for its intended use in the slightest. The wooden pole Bosnar was chained to was simply rammed into a gap in the floor, not giving me much confidence that it could hold a grown man in place. Other than that it contained a small table, crude ropes and shackles mismatched together on it. My reward was clothed in his white surcoat, shaking in the cold, and judging by burnt spots of skin on his hands, freshly after a rough round of questioning.

He avoided my gaze, which angered me enough to grab his jaw firmly, piercing his skin with my claws. "How much pain you caused me, you son of a bitch!"

"Marcella? It is you...," he said in a hard to understand tone of voice. "You have to get me out of here!"

I froze in shock. "What? What the hell are you thinking?!"

"We are friends!"

I couldn't believe my ears. "Friends rape each other?!"

"But you wanted it, no? You agreed both times." He chuckled. "You even sweetly moaned in my ear."

All of my fur stood up in shiver inducing rage. "You mind trickery bastard!" Reaching for my quiver I lifted an arrow, sharp as a blade and deadly as one too. "I urge you to moan with this inside."

With deliberate slowness I slid the tip of the arrow under his surcoat, and pulling it upward, I ripped the cloth apart. Bosnar's bald skin glistened in the dark, covered in a dense layer of slowly dripping sweat. I didn't stop there, bringing the arrow to his face and with a cruelty I rarely find in me, I tore his cheek open, leaving behind a large, blood spurting scar.

The bastard mocked me further, not showing any sign of pain. "A better vixen would have forgiven me."

I shouted annoyed, "Shut up!" He was growing too much for me to handle.

He laughed at the top of his lungs, the open wound of his cheek tearing further and spraying blood down onto his neck and shoulder. I had enough of him, I couldn't force myself to even torture him. With all of my force I dug claws into his torso, lifted him, and straining myself fully I dropped his body onto the small table. The table scraped harshly against the ground as I tugged it into the hallway, Bosnar squirming and throwing himself atop it, rattling with him the chain that was still attached to the pole.

He realized his end was nigh and attempted to bargain. "Marcella, be reasonable. You can get all the gold you want if you let me go."

I ignored his pleas, no matter how grandiose the things he offered me seemed. To illuminate the hallway, I snatched the torch and placed it in a crude torch holder on a wall. The memories came flooding back in a dark torrent; how the bastard forced his will upon me. I smirked as I walked behind his butt and spread it, revealing his anus fully. To keep it that way, I tied his ankles to the legs of the table, making sure to fasten the knots of the rope painfully tight.

That's when he grew truly desperate and shrieked in horror. "Please, Marcella. I'll do anything you want. You can have the power, the gold, just don't do this, please!"

I'd have nothing of it. Snatching the recurve bow from my back I loaded it with the blood covered arrow; and clenching Bosnar's raven black hair in my fist, I forced him to look at it.

Hissing through my teeth I reminded him, "Is it familiar? It should be. It used to belong to a morph warrior, before she met your sorry ass."

"By the gods, I swear she is alive and healthy! I never killed anyone, let me go. Marcella, please!"

I taunted him. "You love saying my name, don't you?"

"Please...I'll do anything."

"Then where is my ring you filth."

"Ring? I don't know of any ring!" Another high pitched cry of his reached me. "Marcella! Don't do this! Give me a chance."

I walked several paces of the hallway, far enough to make it a slightly challenging shot. Exhaling, I reflected for a brief second. Was I really to do that? Looking at the belly of the bow, and at the name 'Cynthia' carved into the wood with gentle care, I cleared myself of any doubt. The man was to die. I pulled the string fully, aimed through the aim sight and held. Involuntarily I flinched my eyes before releasing the arrow, something that had never happened to me when I trained.

In the tightly confined hallway the metal tipped arrow whistled deafeningly loud; and hitting the man where I aimed, it emanated such a meaty sound I felt my stomach turning upside down. I only stood there, not having the will to even look at the image before me. The sudden silence was a surreal foreplay to the wail of agony Bosnar let out. I felt terrible, more than anything else. Yes, I believed he deserved it, but that did not stop my throat from clamping down in disgust. And what was the worst of all, it was disgust I held for myself.

I had to kill him fast; his agony induced shrieks kept piercing my ears and twisted my mind to no end. Quickly loading another arrow I fumbled like a rookie and dropped it, cutting my fingers harshly. After a spontaneous change of plans, I unsheathed the knife tied to my boot and mindlessly walked toward him. His cries aggravated me enough for my ears to ring painfully, and harshly kicking him down from the table, I knelt before the man. I could see his stare unblinking on me, I faced away and plunged the knife past his ribs, right into the dark heart. I only heard his last moments, the morbid gurgling coming from his throat forcing a globule of bile to coat my tongue.

With eyes firmly shut I stood up, warm blood etched into the fur of my fingertips. I tried to walk away from the terrible scene, but halfway my knees gave way. I crumbled against a wall, and slid all the way down to the floor. The cauldron of confusion that was my head simply overwhelmed me. I closed my eyes and waited, hoping for my emotions to wise up, and for the pressure in my chest to subside.

Soft taps of naked paw pads announced Amand's presence. Seeing me resting on the floor, he didn't hesitate to close the distance.

"How long have you been there?" I asked, my voice an emotionless rasp.

"I just came down here." He glanced at the mutilated corpse splayed at the end of the corridor, blood splatters marking both it and the rough stone tiles under it. "Do you feel better?"

I cringed. "Not at all...I didn't expect to feel better, but. How come I feel remorse for killing a monster like him?"

The wolf sat next to me, brushing me with his tail as he slid to the floor. "You're not a cold blooded killer. That is trait of yours I'm glad for."

"Glad...I killed so much in my life, and each time it is as hard as the first. I'm supposed to be a mercenary, dammit!"

"But do you want it yourself?"

"I don't know anymore. I love the thrill of battle, but the killing...even when I kill known murderers, all I feel is guilt."

"I'd be worried if you didn't feel guilt. Murder is never to be enjoyed." The wolf wrapped me into a comforting balm that were his words. "There is plenty more you can do with your skill."

I gulped down, ready to stand up and leave my hate for Bosnar behind. "Thanks. I do feel better now. Care to help me up?"

Standing up first, he clasped my hand firmly and pulled. I was so weak, I stumbled right into his arms. And gently helping me upstairs, he laid me into the simple bed, dedicating himself fully to me again. My trust for him was slowly turning into love. Or more likely, I was starting to accept the love I had always felt for him. A lone wolf from the valley of Ferlow, the one I had started this diary with. Amand Fallmet.