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Birdie Tits

Chapter 8

The Nahet was surrounded by grassland the dogs called Khava Plain. How such a dry stretch of land came to rest alongside the wetlands of Nahet could only be attributed to ancient foxes and their magic. It was said a great battle took place at Khava - not between dogs and foxes but foxes and foxes. The ancient fox kingdoms warred upon each other with their magic, scarring the land, until one day, their gods had enough and punished them. It was said lightning tore the sky, scorched the earth, and obliterated those foxes who stood on the battlefields of Khava. But Azrian knew "Khava" was a dog word. The land in the tongue of the foxes was called Korv'el Eth.

It took six days for the Nahet to disappear on the horizon as Azrian crossed the Korv'el Eth on Meba. Other great moa birds roamed the tall yellow grass, snapping flies from the blue sky and basking in the sun. The going was slow and lazy. There was little water available, and Azrian was afraid of dehydrating Meba. She urged the great bird to take her time, cautioning her often to sit under what thin trees she could find as they went.

They traveled mostly at night, following the stars. Azrian did not know the way to Celankobi and became lost the moment the Nahet faded in the distance. Without landmarks, she did not know how to find her way. Indeed, she had never been under the open sky so long before, and it frightened her. She missed the trees of the Nahet, the steam, the rain, the mud, and the flowers so tall that they came to ones breasts.

She was lost. But at least she was far from Ayni's fiery clutches. She had to ask herself if it was possible that Ayni would follow her. Nhlahla had spoken of Ayni's hatred for Ti'uu. And Ayni had spoken derisively of Ti'uu's plans. Would the goddess of rage and fire try to stop Azrian from fulfilling those plans?

The eleventh night, Azrian took Nhlahla's staff from her back and glowered at it. "You're supposed to bring me luck," she accused. "But here I am - lost." She chucked the staff away with a sneer, startling Meba, who sat puffed up nearby. The staff flickered with golden light and abruptly died. Azrian's lashes fluttered: the staff had never glowed before. She got to her feet and retrieved the staff, picking it up in careful paws. It had stopped glowing and was dead wood again. She looked at Meba and cocked a brow. The moa ruffled its wings in a shrug.

"Hmm." Azrian examined the staff a moment - then banged it in the grass. Golden light shot out of it, stretching in a line of fire across the sky. It was pointing the way.

"The way to Celankobi!" Azrian cried. She turned to the moa. "Get up - get up! It's the way!"

Meba unenthusiastically got to her talons, and away they flew, speeding through the high grass, the cool breeze in their faces. Azrian couldn't help it: she laughed.

She had wanted to see _Celankobi_since she was a little girl. Nhlahla had always told stories of the place - trees that came to life, towering ruins, streams, waterfalls, a serene river. The Lucky One had made _Celankobi_sound like a place so beautiful and magical, that when Azrian finally reached it, she felt her heart deflate.

Meba bounced to a stop and rustled her wings in surprise. The Celankobi was a dead forest. No birdsong. No insects. The dawn came, stretching pale fingers through the trees, and in the stillness, the black trees were dead. After twenty years. They were still dead.

Azrian slid off Meba's back, unable to stop staring at the tragedy. But she had to ask herself why she was surprised. Nhlahla had also told her of the fire and death the forest had suffered and had even said the land was sick for want of its lost magic. But she had hoped . . .

Azrian walked toward one of the trees - a thick titan with gigantic roots - and touched its root as if she was touching someone's knee. She gasped to see the light leave her fingers. It snaked over the tree until it glowed. The light was so bright, Azrian turned her face, letting her long red mane shield her eyes. The light collapsed into so many winking diamonds, and when she looked again, the tree was whole - green and mossy and whole. She laughed. She and Meba looked at each other. The bird clacked its beak in an approving squawk.

"Well. Seems I've got my work cut out for me."

Azrian walked. And where she walked, the forest came to life. Her footsteps left clutches of bright green grass, red mushrooms, lively insects, little streams. Each tree she touched was restored to life, and before long, birds were singing in the _Celankobi_again.

It was peaceful. Still. Quiet. And completely unlike the Nahet, where a panther was always lurking, where prey was always screaming in agony. Yet Azrian loved it. It was a place of tranquility and joy. Polite bushes parted to clear her path, and the trees were so grateful, some reached down with knobby branches to offer her apples as she passed.

Azrian's magic cut a swath of life through the forest, trailing behind her like breadcrumbs. It was no small wonder, then, that she was so easy to find. One bright morning, she awoke when she felt a beak nuzzling her cheek with slow affection. She frowned.

"Mm . . . Meba . . . cut it out."

The loving beak didn't stop.

Azrian opened her eyes and glared. But Meba was standing some feet away, dipping her beak in the pool that gathered under the waterfall. Azrian froze. Then who . . .?

Azrian slowly turned her head - and scrambled backward into a tree when she came face to face with what was undeniably a spirit. And she was gorgeous. She stood before Azrian with feathers of brilliant gold, her wings draping from her arms in a glossy curtain, her legs long and her taloned feet small. She was curvaceous and quite short, with high breasts covered in shimmering gold plume. Feathers tumbled around her face and behind her shoulders like a mane, and her curious, almond-shaped eyes were the loveliest shade of cyan blue. Her beak was small as a sparrow's, dark gold, and sharp, and it curled into a smile as her long lashes blinked warmly.

"Little Azrian," the spirit said, voice a soothing purr. "My, my. How you've grown." She took a step, but Azrian stiffened with fear against the tree, and she halted again. "Ah. . . don't you remember me?" She sounded genuinely disappointed and Azrian stared.

The spirit tisked. "Oh, come on. I nursed you when you were a cub. . . ." She closed her claws on her high breasts and massaged them, cupping them from under. Her fingers slipped through the plumage, parting her feathers to reveal a pink nipple.

Azrian felt her face getting hot.

"How could you forget my tits?" smiled the spirit. She smoothed her claws over her golden hips and pushed them to the side, eying Azrian fondly. "Perhaps I shouldn't have worn a mortal's shell, but I had to. I had to make sure Nhlahla and Sampson were worthy caretakers. Ti'uu asked me to."

"Esra . . ." Azrian whispered as it dawned on her.

The spirit smiled. "Bingo. I possessed her flesh in order to care for you. You see? Ti'uu did not abandon you." Her pretty cyan eyes softened with sympathy. "He watched over you from afar. Through me."

Azrian didn't know what to say. And she didn't think she could move. So she remained still against the tree, knees drawn up, licks of red mane in her eyes. She tensed when the spirit moved again and immediately felt guilty: the spirit looked at her with hurt. But she continued toward Azrian's staff, which was on the ground beside her bag. She turned her back to Azrian, and smiling over her shoulder at her, she slowly leaned down to collect the staff. Her long fan of a tail lifted, revealing the pink lips of her bulging sex, which pressed through the golden feathers that cloaked the tender place between her thighs. Azrian's eyes went wide to see the feathers peal apart there. She immediately averted her eyes.

The spirit straightened up with the staff again. She touched a long pink nail to it, and it glowed on the tip. It glowed golden.

"You," Azrian whispered.

The spirit smiled. "Me. I led you here." She turned to face Azrian, standing with the staff in claw. "Well? Aren't you going to ask my name? Or how I know your father? Here's a hint." She leaned forward and whispered, "We're both gods!"

Azrian laughed. Suddenly at her ease, she got to her feet and brushed her fur off. It suddenly hit her that the spirit was naked. Didn't any of them wear clothes? But then . . . she could hardly call what she was wearing "clothing" after her long journey. Her fur loincloth and top had tattered from sleeping on the rough ground. She might as well have been wearing bits of grass. Suddenly self-conscious, she tried not to glance down at the swell of own breasts, which were practically pouring from her thin strip of a top.

"What is your name?" Azrian asked.

"You couldn't pronounce it," was the reply. "Zuu'ma will do."

"Zuu'ma," Azrian repeated, testing it on her tongue.

Zuu'ma smiled. "Your father and I are old friends. Due mostly to the fact that we share a common enemy." She extended her arm, from which her wing hung in a beautiful veil. "Come."

Azrian hesitated but came to the spirit's side. She still wasn't certain if the stranger could be trusted. For all she knew, Zuu'ma was Ayni in disguise.

They walked together under the trees, strolling around the edge of the water. The sound of the rushing water soothed Azrian's nervous heart, and she fell to calmly observing her new companion, only to realize with a jolt that Zuu'ma was doing the same. Her pale cyan eyes traced over Azrian's face to her breasts. Azrian almost felt herself getting self-conscious again before she realized Zuu'ma was looking at her necklace. It was a necklace of shells she had strung together, the largest shell resting on her cleavage.

"I watched over you these past years, just as your father did," went on the spirit. "Though I was able to watch over you in person, in the shape of panthers and snakes, little creatures and insects."

"I hope I wasn't boring."

Zuu'ma laughed. "No, kitten. You were quite entertaining."

Azrian looked into Zuu'ma's eyes and suddenly thought of all the nights she'd touched herself. She quickly looked away, letting her long red mane cascade forward to hide her face. "I don't understand," she said, "how you could watch over me in person. Fa - Ti'uu said that gods can die if they stay here too long."

"No, kitten, we don't _die._Not right away. We just . . . become mortal."

Azrian stopped. So did Zuu'ma. They stood beside the water, looking at each other. Sunlight played across Zuu'ma's tawny feathers, and Azrian wanted to touch them. A few feathers fell across the spirit's eyes only to lift in the sudden breeze. Azrian swallowed hard: when the wind blew Zuu'ma's feathers, they pressed to her curves, revealing the bulge of her breasts and her nipples. Her wings hung like golden sleeves, dancing in the wind.

"You're mortal?" Azrian said in wonder.

Zuu'ma nodded slowly, unhappily. "I was banished from Hektaten. That is the grand city in Skkye, the spirit realm. You probably haven't heard of it."

"I've heard of E'cru."

"Yes. E'cru is one of the lower realms. The twelfth, I think. I was banished from Skkye altogether and sentenced to live here, on Aonre."

"Earth."

"Yes."

Zuu'ma looked so unhappy that Azrian hesitated to ask, ". . . what did you do?"

Zuu'ma smiled. "I took the wrong side in the Grand Reform. A long time ago . . ." She began to walk again, leaning on the staff as she went.

Azrian followed, the breeze beating through her red fur and sending her mane dancing back.

". . . the gods decided that the foxes did not deserve their power. They had been granted the gift of magic and used it to war upon each other."

"And places like Korv'el Eth happened."

Zuu'ma's pretty eyes crinkled up in a smile and she halted. "You know your history."

"Whose side did you take?" Azrian wondered.

The staff's tip glowed gently, lighting Zuu'ma's eyes. "I spoke in defense of the foxes. The High One thought the answer was to eradicate them and create a new species to become the Beloved Children. I alone spoke against her. I told the High Court that it was wrong." She shook her head, frowning sadly. "You do not simply give up on your children! If they spill the milk, do you kill them?"

"Only . . . ancient foxes weren't spilling milk. I know the stories," Azrian said dryly.

"That doesn't matter," Zuu'ma said with conviction. "They could have been guided down a better path. Instead, we destroyed them." She turned and started to walk again. "And if they misused their power, it was because we failed to teach them how to use it in the first place."

Azrian followed, and she suddenly realized they were walking not on the edge of the water . . . but on the water. She almost tripped to a halt. And she knew she would plunge if she let the fear take her. She took a breath, lifted her chin, and kept following Zuu'ma, who noted her silent struggle with a small smile of approval.

"For my protests," went on the spirit, "I was exiled for high treason. Your father later took pity on me and came to see reason. We decided that together, we could restore what was lost."

They came to the wall of roaring water and stopped. Zuu'ma glanced once at Azrian and murmured, "Come." before passing through. Azrian took a breath and passed through the waterfall.

On the other side was a cavern, filled with so many little trinkets and odd and ends that Azrian knew immediately it was Zuu'ma's home. A stone pillar stood in the center of the chaos, bearing a basin of clear water. A nest of grass stood tightly packed like a mattress near the wall. It was padded with moss and heather and the smell of it was strong in the wet atmosphere. Beside it was a small oil lamp, doused in the daylight, and on the walls were clay drawings: a swirled sun, a half-moon, flowers, and foxes casting magic with spirit birds flying over to protect them. Azrian went to the drawings and admired them. She reached a slender finger to them but didn't touch.

"Your father wishes for me to teach you to wield your power responsibly," Zuu'ma said. "If you are to rule the world, then past mistakes mustn't come to pass again."

Azrian scowled. "I'm _not_going to rule the world."

"You are," Zuu'ma said simply.

Azrian turned to glare at her. "Look, Birdie Tits --!"

Zuu'ma smiled sadly. "So you do remember my tits." She went to the basin of water and gestured for Azrian to come. Azrian hesitated but obeyed. She felt a thump when Zuu'ma wrapped one of her soft wings around her and bid her to look in the water. She looked.

"Ah . . . ah . . . ah. . . .ah!"

A thick penis stabbing up and between the clenching lips of a pink sex. A narrow red back leading to plump red buttocks, bouncing as they ride the penis fast. The strong thighs of a male. A male's big paws . . . squeezing red thighs as he pumps himself up and in. A red tail lifted high to reveal the joined sexes as they smash together in rhythm.

"Oh . . . oh, Etienne! Oh . . . ohhhhh."

The pink lips smash down hard, the male grunts, and white cream seeps over the veined penis. Both cry out.

The vision fades.

Azrian backed away. "No!" She glowered at Zuu'ma. "You think showing me some fake vision of myself riding this Etienne's dick --"

"It wasn't fake," Zuu'ma said with a small smile. Her eyes softened. "He is your match. The other half of what is unwhole within you. That is why you cry out to the moon. That is why you spend your restless nights. Searching."

Azrian looked away and stubbornly folded her arms. "Really? I thought I was just horny."

Zuu'ma laughed, genuinely delighted. "That too."

Azrian turned away and moodily hugged herself.

"Come," said Zuu'ma pleasantly behind her. "We will begin today's lesson."

Azrian rolled her eyes. "More water walking?"

"No. Flying."