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I write this journal to convey my rather bizarre experiences of which I have procured on my journeys through many lands and times. If anyone shall read this, I ask that you do not judge all I shall henceforth write, and hope that you may find some knowledge enclosed within. For the sake of anonymity, I shall keep my name a secret. However, you can refer to me as Salem, if a name be required for your thoughts. I am an otter, traveler, writer, experiencer of many things. And, if you give me the chance, I hope to tell you about my wondrous life.

When I set out upon my journey, I was originally only the tender age of nineteen, and my youth and wanderlust crowded my otherwise inexperienced and blank slate of a mind. All of my life, I had been rather lonely, my parents both deceased and, having to live by myself since as long as I could remember, I was nigh unshakeable in my desire to travel, to meet new people, to conquer the lands upon which I had spent so many of my years reading many a curious tome in my father's dust-beholden library. I remember the day I set out most vividly. I stared at myself in the mirror for what seemed like eternity, looking over the features as if trying to come to reconciliation of who I was. Eyeing myself not unlike some foreign beast in a spyglass upon a distant shore. My brown cheeks were well-groomed, whiskers slightly ajar off to the sides with a small cowlick on the top of my head, a nuisance of my youth I had tried so devilishly to get rid of, my green eyes seeming to stare back into my own, no matter what angle I glanced at myself. I dressed, in hindsight, much too posh for where I ended up. With my long white dress shirt and green vest, a bow tie sporting just below the nape of my neck, a silver pocket watch (Part of my inheritance as a child) all above my silken gray trousers. Oh, how I laugh at what I expected!

Upon setting out, my status as a virgin to travel was obvious, having difficulties getting through customs with my luggage, nearly missing my boat and tripping over my own tail to catch it! Seeing as it was the only boat to the remote destination I had first intended for the next few weeks, I was in quite a shock. Being so confident in myself merely from book-smarts, many of said books being crammed into my suitcase, I picked the most... tropical of destinations to start, confident in my abilities to not only communicate (I had been in private school for 12 years, and had a world-class library, what wouldn't I know?) but to get along with anyone I should meet.

The island I had chosen, which I will refer to by the name I was told, Likitau, was one of my favorites to read about, and I had spent many a night pondering, daydreaming over the small collection of books my father had managed to acquire on the subject. Likitau was, well... is a mostly uninhabited island, with a sole town on its southernmost tip, taking up only about 1% of the island as a whole. The rest was dense jungle with many different tribes of many different species, all which seemed to have immigrated hundreds, if not thousands of years ago from different islands and landmasses in the area. I knew of tribes of Lions, Bears, Wolves, Deer, and Otters on the island. And, it was this assortment of completely unique cultures and religions that drove me to that place to which I called home for quite some time. Those tribes had no contact with the town below after years of raiding, and what little I had read was from the few peaceful years approximately 30 years prior to the date at which I first left. And, if anything else, I was sure the Otters would accept one of their own kin.

Upon my arrival, I was wary of the quant village that greeted me. I had travelled for many days to a small port on the coast and had to find my own passage to the island. After nearly a full day of searching, a weather-beaten dingo, whom I shall refer to as Ray, gave me passage on his small fishing vessel, and the price he charged was gross, if not exorbitant, taking up nearly half of my provisions that I had expected for my entire trip. I begrudgingly handed over the parcel of cash I had on me, but my wanderlust took precedence. And, for the entire night's journey, all I could do was stare up at the stars as the waves bobbed the ship up in down upon the ebony waters below, flashing silver with the waning crescent high above in the sky.

The village itself was like any other. I had expected it to be more colorful, vibrant even. What I found was something I would expect to find a few miles down the block from my estate. It was quiet, the locals seemed to keep to themselves with their heads down with many a fish stall lining the cobblestone walkways looking out over the aquamarine waters, the waves crashing up on the sands not fifteen feet away. It was stagnant if anything else, and, for the first time, I felt out of place. As the quant townsfolk walked past me without even a glance, knocking into me and continuing to stride without even a glance back, I realized that I was a foreign entity. Words and sounds and smells battered me from every which direction, and I felt like a newborn pup seeing others for the first time without knowledge, without anything to go by in the world. And this is where my story comes to its formal opening.

It was frustrating, if not infuriating, trying to find someone willing to take me into the jungle, even more so as the people who were familiar with the territory turned away from me with scrunched noses as I showed them the money I had brought with me, saying it had no value. Ray left me on the island with the promise to return in a week and I found out very quickly that my money had no use, and no place would take me in. I went from tavern to tavern looking for help, trying to discern what to do from those who spoke the common tongue in broken sentences and mixed language. Finally, I was pointed to a thin lion at one of the stalls. His mane was a dingy orange, shaking about in the wind, with his golden and cream chest and back fur showing off prominently in the twilight as he wore only a tattered pair of brown pants, seemingly made of rough burlap, tied off with twine made of the same fabric, his thick tail reached down to the back of his knees, the puff normally on the end of his tail completely missing, leaving only a nub.

Nervously, I looked him over, clearing my throat as I walked over to him, extending my hand in greetings, as I stammered out "Hello there! I am Salem, it's a pleasure to meet yo-"only to get caught off guard by the lion's quick reaction of jumping away and crouching down at my presence, eyes narrowing as he looked me over. He seemed to size me up for a second before decided I wasn't a threat, standing up straight, his chest puffing out in a sign I could only discern as trying to portray dominance before giving a soft-spoken apology, his voice abnormally quiet for the body language he was using. He informed me, while stumbling over the common tongue and having to correct himself many times as he inserted his own words that he mistook me for one of the otter tribesmen, but no tribesman would ever dare wear something as restrictive and "Western" as what I was. I nodded briefly and explained to him that I wanted to meet the tribes and get to know them, that it was my dream to travel. The notion seemed foreign to him, his brow furrowing as he listened, seeming to get rather nervous at the prospect. "I do not know what you will find, but I will take you, if you help me with my supplies. It will be the night's journey." He told me, in monotone. My heart leapt for joy as I hastily agreed, grabbing what looked to be the lighter of the two packs of supplies he carried, and we went off into the jungle.

As we traversed the dense foliage it was obvious that there were no paths where we were going. Or, if there were, it was obvious that I had no clue exactly what to look for. My guide, whom I realized very quickly that in my hurry I had forgotten to even ask his name, seemed to have no trouble in his movements or where he was going. He seemed to be led by some mysterious force, turning, jumping and climbing up rocks without any indication of why he went the way he did as I watched in bewilderment. After what I could only guess was at least a few hours' travel, we stopped in a small clearing not unlike the many others we had passed through before, the trees surrounding us clothed in thick vines and moss hanging from every branch. Only then did I stop to listen as the alien birds cawed and chirped high into the canopy and the loud humming and vibrant echoes of what I could only assume were massive insects filled my ears in the darkness. In his own silence, my guide lit a small fire, after clearing away much of the dense rotting leaves on the ground, making sure not to catch anything on fire, and he beckoned me to sit on the cold, wet ground.

I sat and listened to the birds slowly dying away into the night, left only with the racket of what seemed like countless insects chirping away. My eyes kept themselves fixated on the lion in front of me who set up the small camp, rolling out a couple of thin sheets to use for the night, as nothing else was needed with how hot and humid it was. My heart raced as he finished and he simply sat in front of the fire, the shadows from the fire flickering across his worn, lithe muzzle. I worked up the courage and I asked him what the tribe we were going to was like. And, I will try to recount to you as much as I remember, and what I learned later on as well.

The tribe, which I will call the Inama, had a strange caste hierarchy, and it was explained to me in a very matter of fact tone. When anyone, male or female, turned 18 in the tribe, they were referred to as a goya. A goya was someone who was not of the warrior caste, but was not of the lesser servant caste either. These goya have 3 moons from their 18th birthday to win a fight with another goya and take them as their servant, to fight someone of the warrior caste and take their servant, or to capture a servant from a rival, lion tribe. If the warrior had but one servant, and was lost to another, they are then a goya and have the same 3 moons to get a servant, or they are auctioned in a tournament to the warrior caste and become a servant. The servant, after one moon, can fight for their right of freedom, and the cycle starts all over again. These servants, since they could not win a fight against any other, are deemed not worthy for battle, as their performance would mean the dishonor of the tribe in the face of the enemy. Once they are a servant, they have no gender, no status, or say in tribal affairs. This keeps the entire tribe in the optimal fighting force as everyone trains to keep their role. It is also because of this that whether you are male or female does not matter, but what you can do for the honor of the tribe.

I sat there, listening intensely to the mangy lion in front of me detail just how the tribe worked. After he finished, I simply nodded, gulping at the sheer amount of knowledge that was being passed to me in such a short amount of time. Knowledge which, until then, I was completely unaware, even after my many years of wondrous studying. Sheepishly, I inquired the name of my guide and his status. Much to my dismay, a sight of pain washed over his face, taking a few moments for him to speak "My name is Gatare." He told me, "I have no caste. I left my tribe in a fight many years ago, when they were wiped out. Instead of killing me, they cut the end of my tail, to show that I was a coward and chose life over an honorable death. No tribe will take me, so I trade what I can to survive." He said, a wave of dismay rolling over me, coupled with sorrow and regret for my question. I hastily apologized and he smiled with a chuckle, brushing it off "It is no concern. I am happy in my own way, and I enjoy the company and to speak." He says, beckoning me to bed "Come, we will finish the journey at sun rise. It is not but a whiles away yet." He finished. I nodded, laying down onto the rough cloth he had laid out for protection, staring up at the sky as the cat beside me began to almost instantly snore more alike that of a bear than a lion.

I awoke to a paw on my shoulder, shaking me awake and my back aching as I forced myself up. My normally stark white clothes, I noticed in the light, had become tattered and weird hues of brown and green from the foliage I had trekked through the night prior, little cuts and tears along my pants and shirt from the thorns of the local plants tugging at me, wanting me to go back. I was in a shambles, and I found myself stripping off my vest and unbuttoning my shirt, tucking both it and my tie into my pack, which seemed much heavier than I remembered. Without a word, the lion led me on the path up many foothills at the beginning of the small mountain range that dominated the island, splitting it nearly clean in two. As we reached the crest overlooking the valley, it was clear where we were heading. The sun, just peaking over the top of the most prominent mountain, illuminated in its glow an expansive village full of bamboo buildings, some as large as the churches up and down the road I had grown up in, all surrounded by small huts which formed cohesive rings, spiraling outward into the jungle and hills. It was obvious that I could not see everything through the canopy, but I could see the large circular arena in the center of the village which was enclosed in mighty bamboo stalks and a small gate for those to enter, along with a makeshift system of seating around the outer rim. I had to pause for a second as I watched the golden figures walking about below, unbeknownst to my existence up above them. Men and women carried pots and baskets all around, while some carried long spears and swords that gleamed white in the sun on their backs, the tips of which threatening to cut deep into those thick feline tails.

As we traversed down the side of the hill, I could feel eyes watching me from the shadows, the fur on the back of my neck stood up, a chill running down my spine as my heart began to audible pound in my chest, my legs wobbled through a mix of anxiety and fatigue. By the time we arrived at the edge of the village, it was obvious that everyone was watching us approach, and the entire village seemed to be prepared. 5 lions, larger than any of those I had ever seen prior, approached from the colossal building just north of where we had arrived. The center most male could not have been less than 6 and a half feet tall, dwarfing my height of 5 feet and 6 inches. His mane was bright red and was so thick that it almost engulfed his masculine, chiseled face, which was crinkled into what appeared to be a permanent snarl, his left fang hanging out of his lip, digging into the flesh of its lower counterpart. His eyes were a stunning blue, contrasting the dark golden fur and mane, and his chest was completely barren other than the dark green-black winding tattoos that encircled his waist and chest, each in the shape of a claw, tooth, or horn. He wore nothing but a long loincloth of red fabric that draped down to below his knees which swayed in the breeze, leaving very little to the imagination as it fluttered about. My eyes couldn't help but wander over what I considered a perfect body, so much so that I barely recognized that the 4 smaller lions accompanying him were wearing almost the same garb, save lesser tattoos and form. Each seemed to stand guard behind the larger male without a word to say.

"Why do you come with one of those kind?" the large behemoth of a male asked, his tone sounding not unlike the low rumblings at the start of a roar, his fangs bearing as his entire body vibrates with his speech. It was deep and resonant, as if I could feel it through every part of my body. Gatare quickly stepped forward, his tail between his legs as he gave small bows, keeping his head down in front of the much larger male in front of him. Of what he said I cannot tell, but it involved many hushed rumbling shouts and the occasional roar pointing in my direction. My eyes wandered around the camp, taking in the dozens of lions that had surrounded the spectacle. Cubs and mothers came to look as the young ones pointed in my general direction, some of the mothers were still in battle-ready gear in ornate red and brown leather, spears still on their backs as their children carried their goods about, and, out of the corner of my eye, I could see individuals crouched about in the same burlap-like cloth pants or loincloths that Gatare wore, carrying sacks of fruits and meat about, keeping their heads down at even the slightest look, darting back into their respective small huts in the dense jungle.

It was only after a couple of minutes that I was snapped out of my almost trance-like state, heart pounding in my ears, by Gatare shaking me on the shoulder. He looked around nervously, as if he were trying to think of the exact words he wished to tell me. "You may stay... but, if you want to live with them, you must follow all of their customs." He says in a hushed, almost fearful tone. I gulped, my mouth dry as I stepped forward and gave a slight bow. My eyes looked up into the massive Lion's eyes for not more than a second before their intensity drove me to look away, their piercing blue irises split by his sharp pupils "I.... I agree. I will follow your customs if you permit me to stay, for a while." At this, the crowd around me had begun to churn and chatter, some of them beginning to work their way into the front of the crowd. After a few moments, the large lion raised his paw and the entire village went quiet. Only after he was sure he was being listened to did he speak, saying "Then, you are Goya. If you live here, you must be of worth." He said, the crowd beginning to ramble again. And, only then did I realize what he meant.

My heart sank into my stomach as my blood ran cold, the fur down my spine standing on end at his words. I knew I couldn't fight, but, if I intended to stay, I would have to. And, if I left, I had nowhere to go. All I could hear was the thumping of my heart as my eyes darted around, unable to say or do anything as I watched the tribe size me up, their brows furrowing. Men and women alike seemed to twitch about, ready to pounce upon me like a fresh kill. I remembered that, to them, there was no gender, no inherent value in someone's life, but how much honor they could bring to their tribe. Before I could even react, a lion, bearing a large bamboo spear on his back, its point decorated with a jagged toothed blade not unlike the lower jaw of some other carnivorous beast, stepped forward into the crowd, pushing all others off to the side. He was easily 6 inches taller than the average lion surrounded him, and his red-furred mane blew in the wind. A small scar streaked from his nose under his eye in a ripped pattern following the contours of his muzzle, rippling down to the underside of his ear. He was bare-chested like the rest of his tribe, and he wore a green loincloth of knotted leaves that hung down on all sides to just above his knees. "As Goya, I demand first challenge toward the Lutrinae!" he bellowed. At the words, many sank back with menacing snarls, obvious that they had been thinking the same thing. "Since I have but 3 days till my third moon, I doubt that anyone here shall deny me my right, since my last servant was so devilishly stolen from me during our last raid." He says, walking out into the circle that had formed around us, hushed whispers rolling through the crowd.

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. I had only been in the camp for less than 10 minutes and I had been challenged. The lion in front of me dwarfed me in his size, nearly a full foot taller, and obviously much stronger, his chiseled chest showing off its lines even through his fur, the contours of his entire muscular structure stood out in the shadows of the sun, and it was hard to believe that he, too, was goya. I immediately cowered down at the sight, my toes curling, nails digging into the dirt below, my breath shaking as it breathed in that hot, humid air, the only sound I could hear were those loud bugs and the sound of my heart thumping into my ears, only to be disturbed by the sound of the head lion at the head of the circle "Well, it seems that you are going to prove your worth sooner than I anticipated!" the lion bellowed, a paw on his chest "I should have known you would do this, Lencho. Sitting on your lazy paws for 3 moons to snatch up such an exotic Lutrinae!" he said, chuckles rolling through the crowd. The lion whom I assumed was named Lencho smirked, stepping toward me, his nose scrunching as he bends down, sniffing at me, my body frozen in fear "You smell of dirt and the sea, no blood on you... yet. You will be a fine servant. I think I will call you Panya... a mouse." He says, straightening up as I gulp, my shoulders rolling in my unbuttoned dress shirt, my adrenaline racing "My name... is Salem. And, I accept your challenge." I say, my subconscious remembering all I had read in my youth, trying to show courage if nothing else. Lencho snorted, his back turning as he walked away "Names are given by others. Names are not chosen." He says as the crowd erupts and roars.

Almost immediately, the circle began to enclose around me, pushing me along in their large forms, paws gripping and pushing at my back and rudder, almost seeming to pick me up as they push me toward the arena ahead. I was completely surrounded, their larger sizes and brawn engulfed me as I found myself thrust into the arena, the gate slammed shut behind me with my chest hitting the dusty ground, the wind rushing out of my lungs as my cheek slammed into the dirt. My arms wobbled as I pushed myself up, only to see Lencho standing on the other side of the arena, crouching and stretching, his shoulders rolling, his joints popping, audible even to my short ears. As I stood, I let my dress shirt fall to the ground. It was matted and torn anyways, and I had no use for it. As I exposed my chest, I looked up to see the entire arena surrounded by the entire tribe, and it was only then that I noticed that the walls were lined with assorted wooden weaponry from clubs to hammers to axes. The thought that these wouldn't blatantly kill me seemed to put me at ease, though their sheer size caused a chill to run down my spine, especially so as I watched Lencho grab a net from the wall with a hammer that was obviously made for two hands, its rod being a good 4 feet long, the block of wood at the end looking more alike that of a stump from a tree than anything you would use in building.

The cheers erupted at Lencho's choice, and I found myself panicking as I looked around for something I could use. The lion stood at his side of the arena, patiently waiting as I looked over the walls, grabbing the first things that were even possible for me to pick up, a small mace and a wooden buckler, which I grasped in my hand, not even noticing the straps in my naiveté. Not a second after I had finished grabbing my weapons, a loud drum echoed through the village, the chatter dying down as the first massive lion, whom I assumed was the chief, spoke. "The Goya match between Lencho and the Lutrinae shall begin at the next ringing of the drum! As a Goya match, the loser shall fall to the Servant class under the victor for at least one moon, and the victor can join the warriors in their feasts! May you bring honor to your ancestors!" he bellowed, his paw giving the signal for the drum to be struck. As it rung in my ears, it seemed that the entire world began to move in slow motion.

I crouched down, the bucker grasped firmly, but clumsily in my left paw, the wooden mace in my right. I instinctually covered my face with the shield as I took a step back, at least attempting to copy a more defensive fighting stance I had read about before. My adrenaline rushed through me, my breath staggering as my legs wobble, everything in me screaming to just run as I watched Letho slowly approach. He threw the hammer in the air, catching the rod close to the butt, holding the entire hammer out to one side. The amount of strength it must have required to perform such a feat boggled my mind, his eyes locked on mine the entire time as he casually strolled forward, eyes narrowed at his prey. Out of panic, I bolted to one side, not daring look in his general direction as my aching feet took me as fast as they could around the outside of the ring, looking for any cover I could find. Slowly, but surely, he came closer and closer until he was mere steps away. He smirked almost out of pity as he casually swing that massive hammer down upon my buckler, the force ripping it from my arm and flying off to the side. My entire body shook, sending me rolling and tumbling into the dirt, my arm screaming in pain as my brown fur was matted dark from the black soil.

I could barely move, my entire body resonated with the blow, clouding my senses. But, at that point, my entire body was on overdrive as Lencho continued his stroll, his tail swishing about behind him, his entire body tensing like a housecat with a mouse, playing with his food. I scurried up to my legs, only to find him within striking distance again. He slammed the top of the hammer forward as if he were jabbing a spear straight into my chest, my maw going agape as I felt every last bit of air forced from my lungs, the back of my head slamming into the ground. My ears rang as all I could see was the blue sky above me before being eclipsed by Lencho's golden mane and equally blue eyes, his massive footpaw finding itself resting on the center of my chest, pressing down with more and more weight. I struggled, gasping for breath as my eyes clenched shut. The pressure would certainly break my ribs as I felt my entire chest contour, my body about to break as my arms dropped my weapon, grasping at his leg as I squirmed like a worm under a giant... It was only after I screamed out in pain and begged for mercy through breathless cries that I felt that paw lift off of me, and the sweet, succulent air once again filled my lungs, and my eyes once again saw the sky.

Most after that is fuzzy. Laughter and booing were all I could hear from the crowd at my display, and the next thing I knew, I was picked up by some unrecognizable female, practically dragging me off and out of the arena, my head spinning. Everything went black, and I awoke the feeling of hot water being splashed in my face, only to have my body completely thrown into what seemed like a makeshift bath in the earth, steam bellowing up as I sank in. My entire body stung to the touch, and the clear water become tinged with brown, and red. I slowly melted into the water, my head sinking down deep, almost wanting to simply fall asleep as I covered myself, the churning of water filling my ears for a good few minutes in the bath, before slowly returning to the surface. And, as my eyes fluttered open, I then saw who cared for me.

Besides me was an old female lion, her eyes sunken into her skull and her body gauntly, covered only in a burlap loincloth, her breasts hanging down as she placed satchels of what I assumed were herbs into the now gray water. She looked at me and shook her head and placed a paw on my head before looking me over, her claws tracing over my arms, back, and chest without even a word, giving a nod to someone behind me in the doorway. "You are fine. I forgot your kind could stay underwater for so long. Thought you had passed on. Not that it would matter." She says, her words stinging more than my wounds and cracked ribs did. She let me soak in the water before she beckoned me out, and I begrudgingly slid out of the now room temperature water, dripping and naked in front of her, my paws covering my shame. She scoffed and handed me a burlap loincloth, the trivial piece of clothing seeming so tiny compared to what it was supposed to cover "Wear this. It is becoming of your status. And hurry, you are expected to be at your master's hut by High Moon." She said.

It was only then that I realized what happened. I lost, and, in the course of a few hours, I had become Goya and fallen to Servant. Servant. My heart skipped a beat, blood rushing from my face as what I agreed to sank in. She did not seem to care as she waited for me to change, my paws fumbling as I tied that thin cord around my waist, covering my shame. "Come." She said, simply, and I followed her into the darkness. My head fell low as I followed her, keeping my eyes away from anyone we passed as I felt the entire village watch me, this exotic and strange creature pad along in the uniform that denoted my worth to them. It was quite the long walk as we passed from the village into the jungle, winding down a path until we came upon a few small huts, all of which except one was empty with all their fronts facing inward toward an unlit fire pit. In the center hut, twice as large as the others, sat Lencho, carving a small block of bamboo with a bone knife.

I went to look back at the woman, only to find her already walking away, my hand outstretched to call her back, only to turn my head at the sound of Lencho snarling "You don't get to talk in my presence, Panya." The voice causing me to turn toward him standing up, rolling his shoulders once more. It was only him and me now. "I am glad you came along, Panya. I was but a few days from my third moon, and I guess I should be glad I waited. I never thought I would get a Lutrinae wanting to be a Goya." He said, walking over to me. The air had become cool in the night, the waxing moon the only light in the jungle as he stood over me, his shadow cascading over my form, a paw reaching down to my chin, rubbing it with his thumb, my cheeks burning pink as I was treated in such a way. "Its good being recognized as a warrior again, even if your show was pathetic. I was really missing out on those feasts." He says, his paw gripping my cheek, tugging on it in an almost playful manner as his eyes looked me up and down in my loincloth, the burlap falling down between my legs and rump, but looked rather silly as my thick tail engulfed the rough fabric with its underside. "I said my name is Sale-" I began to say, only to find a snarl and a small claw dig into my cheek, the lion bearing down on me "I said, no speaking. You can only speak to bring honor upon me, or to challenge me. And, since it hasn't been a full moon yet, you can only do the first." He says, huffing as he walks away "You are to do as I say, Panya, without question. In the morning, I expect to be woken up with meat already cooked and my new clothes washed. I need to look good for my return to the Warrior's Hall." He says, sitting on the entrance to his hut, the insides too dark to see into as I just listened carefully out of shame, eyes averting. "Now, make a fire and you may get to bed."

I simply nodded, heart pounding as I looked at the fire pit. My cheek stung from his sharp grasp, and I quickly fell to my knees as I put the sticks together in a cone. All the while, I could feel Lencho's eyes watching me intently, trying to find something, anything wrong with what I was doing. I knew how to light a fire, and I found my hands shaking as I took the flint next to the fire and lit the kindling with relative ease, the slow crackling as the fire grew filling the air, my entire body relaxing as I had accomplished something "Good." Lencho said, stretching his arms and rubbing his nose roughly with a paw "Now, you can sleep in any of the huts. I expect you to be at my call, so sleep light." He says standing up and disappearing into his tent, whose bamboo door was quickly shut behind him, with a solid *thunk* echoing soon after, presumably from a bar-lock.

I was left alone, and I stared into the fire for quite a while, just watching the flames flicker as the night bugs chirped and whined in the darkness. I sighed and slowly stood up, my entire body shaking and sore as I stepped into the closest hut, whose only door were large leaves that reached from the top of the door to the ground, interlocking to form a mesh. In it was only a small cloth pad that was stuffed with what looked like straw fibers, and a similar smaller, but thicker pad at the end along with a thin burlap-like sheet. I was too sore to complain about anything, and I fell asleep even before my head hit the pillow.

I awoke to the sound of the leaves of my hut rustling, my eyes fluttering open for just long enough to see Lencho's form standing over me, his paw reaching down and shaking me from side to side "Up, Panya." He said with a huff as my entire body pulsated with aches and pains. My eyes opened, noticing it was still pitch black out, the fire still blazing on. I estimated that not more than an hour and a half had passed before my awakening, and the lion kept shaking me "I said up." He said, tugging my arm until I was standing, legs wobbling from the tug upwards. "Come. I need you." He said once again, stepping out into the darkness, parting the leaves of my hut. My foggy mind made out what he wanted, and I stepped out into the light of the camp fire, following him over to the front of his hut, where he grabbed my hand and tugged me inside. His hut was much more furnished than mine, with its bed made of a more luxurious red cloth, and it was raised off of the floor by wooden legs. In the corner was a small weapons rack filled with bone swords and spears, and on the other side of the hut were trophies from kills. Deer antlers, bear teeth, full paws hanging off the wall, shriveled with age. It was pitch black in the hut except the lingering flames coming from outside, and the large cat instantly sat on the edge of the bed, eyeing me. "Shut the door." He said, bluntly.

Sheepishly, I nodded, slowly sliding the bamboo door into place and dropping a large wooden plank into the slots, locking it. The room quickly turned dark, the ambient light of the fire barely peeking through the cracks of the bamboo walls and door, leaving me to squint in the darkness, though Lencho's golden fur shined and glistened in such light. I looked around, arms crossed, seeming to hug my own sides as I wavered from side to side, averting my eyes away from the male sitting on the edge of the bed "What do you need me for?" I said, trying to sound as confident as I could. I attempted to be as diligent as I could be in the situation, seeing as I knew Lencho's strength more than I would ever like to. "Drop the loincloth." Lencho said, his index finger pointing to the cool floor, his words echoing in my ear, my cheeks burning at the request, my toes curling, the nails digging into the ground as my tail shook about behind me "Y-yes sir." I said, still comprehending what I was told, even as I was doing it, one paw simply undoing the simple knot in the back, my heart pounding as that thin, rough cloth fell down to my ankles.

I was completely exposed, my legs pressed tightly together, my short, sheath and lightly-furred orbs in full view, their light brown fur standing out in the darkness. My embarrassment turned my pinks what I was sure was a bright enough pink to show even in the darkness of the night, my legs practically shaking from the force of which I pressed them together, causing the lion to stifle a small chuckle, a rumble echoing from his chest "How cute, Panya. I half expected not to find anything there." He said, reaching back, tugging at his own loincloth's string, the red cloth falling to the side. My eyes couldn't help themselves as he exposed himself, between his legs was his lionhood, halfway out of his sheath and its pink flesh glistening in the moonlight. His tip was prickled with nubs not unlike any other feline, and a bead of clear liquid graced its crown. I could hardly believe my eyes as he bared himself to me, and I could see every heartbeat that pulsated through him as that shaft throbbed out, getting bigger before my very eyes.

"You seem so scared of me, Panya..." he said, his legs spreading out, his hefty orbs, each like a plum, indented the crimson fabric below with their weight. His musk was unlike any I had smelled before, as his eyes locked onto my body, the wood of the bed creaking under his weight as he leaned back, his thick tail swishing behind him. I stood there, heart pounding in my chest, completely locked up at the situation, unable to act as I stared at his naked form. "Don't get the picture?" he said while standing up, padding over to me, each step making that thick malehood bob up and down between his legs as my back pressed itself to the bamboo wall, nowhere to run. "Fine, I'll show you." He said, his paws placing themselves on my shoulders before forcing me down onto my knees in front of him, his strength pushing me down with little effort. With my back to the wall, that lionhood was inches from my face, its throbbing pink flesh threatening to poke against my nose, Lencho's legs spread wide open around my own.

His large, rough paw pressed into my head fur, his claws furrowing it down as it moved to the back of my head, pulling me in until my snout pressed against his hefty furred orbs. The heat from his malehood ground into my muzzle, his thick length resting on the bridge of my snout with my eyes clenched firmly shut as he ground his ever stiffening heat against my muzzle. His musk penetrated my senses as his paw firmly pressed me between his legs, his hips rolling into me as I whined softly, my hands balling into fists at my sides as I was stuck between the wall and Lencho's grinding flesh, his pre leaving streaks of matted fur across my muzzle and cheeks as I could feel him rumble "See? This is so much better." He said pulling back, that dripping tip bobbing with each heartbeat in front of my muzzle as he hunched down over me "Open." Is all he said, my body freezing as his strong hips rolled against my lips, the heat of his flesh pressing my head into the wall. Quivering, my lips parted as my head swam, my body betraying me as my arousal began to peak, my own otterhood springing to life between my legs as Lencho didn't hesitate to roll his hips forward, driving that barbed feline shaft into my maw.

My entire body shook as that slick malehood quickly thrust into my maw, pressing my head into the wall as his paw pulled me into him. My paws rested on his thighs, gripping his firm flesh with my claws digging divots into his short, smooth fur. The flesh of his malehood pried my jaw open, my tongue forced to sprawl out along the bottom side of his shaft, tasting his musky saltiness. The little barbs on his head pokes and scraped against my cheeks and throat as he quickly began to roll his hips forcefully into me. It was all I can do to keep my teeth out of the way as he mated my muzzle, my eyes opening to look up, his one arm bracing himself against the wall, the other pressing my face deep into him, my nose pressing into his red pubic fur with his hefty orbs rolling forward, tapping at my chin. Every heartbeat and flex pulsated against my lips and tongue as he thrust into me, pre leaking into my awaiting throat, his saltiness making my head swim as I was used, my otterhood, dwarfed in comparison to him, throbbing between my legs.

He snarled and ground his nails into the back of my head as his thrusts became more violent and rapid, pushing me down against the wall with each one until I was on my back with only my head to the wall, his powerful thighs straddling my chest as both of his paws gripped me tight. My paw latched onto his firm rump, gripping it tight, feeling every single thrust and roll of his toned hips into me as he forcefully poked the back of my throat with each and every thrust, my jaw aching as his chest rumbled at the beginning of a roar. The only sound I could hear was the bugs outside and the rough, guttural growls and snarls escaping his throat and my squeaks I couldn't help but make as he slammed into me. With one final thrust, he slammed his hips into me, pressing every last millimeter he could fit into my muzzle, jets of his seed pulsating into my throat. I went rigid, trying not to gag as he held me in place, making sure every drop made it down, his hips giving little bucks forward into my already spent maw as pulse after pulse came, lasting for well over a minute as he filled me, his snow white seed escaping from my lips, dripping off of my chin onto my chest below as he roared out into the night.

He stayed in me for a minute or so longer before slipping out and standing up, my jaw aching as I coughed and wheezed, the taste of his thick seed almost permeable on my breath like fog from my muzzle on a cold winter's day. He took my loincloth from the floor and wiped his still throbbing shaft off with the rough fabric, looking down at me, completely sprawled out on the floor, panting beneath him "Up." He said, staring me down until I slowly worked my way up, my entire body wobbling. He gripped my shoulders and pushed me onto the bed, standing behind me as I laid there, unmoving, cheek pressing into the smooth fabric "All fours and lift that tail. I want a good show." He said. His words rang in my ears as my heart pounded, echoing as he just stood there, that pink shaft between his legs throbbing back to life, the mere sight of which causing my legs to press together.

I bit my lip and closed my eyes as I climbed up onto my hands and knees, my tail slowly lifting out of the way, exposing my most private of areas. My pink hole was exposed under my tail, my legs slowly parting, sure he could see my puckered entrance surrounded by my light brown fur, standing out in the darkness. I waited as I heard him shuffle about, my nails gripping that fabric below me as I felt his own claw press into the underside of my orbs, trailing up between my cheeks and under my tail, grazing over my petite hole. Each time he passed over it, he pressed forward, grinding and swirling his rough paw pad into the sensitive flesh, causing my back to arch and a squeak to emit from my throat, my fur standing on end. "Oh, Panya was a good name for you..." he said as I felt the bed creak and shift as his knee rested itself on the edge "But do you taste as sweet as a mouse...?" he said in my ear, his entire body leaning over me, the heat from his chest pressing into my back, engulfing me. Both his paws rested themselves on my sides, drawing back down to my hips, dragging his claws through my thick fur as he shifted back.

I could do nothing but be stock still as I felt his hot breath wash over the underside of my tail. His thick paw grasped my rudder, his thumb hooking along the underside, prying it up against my back. My body tensed, my rear tightening as I felt that intense heated breath roll over me. I panted, my breath shuddering as I felt him lean in and his broad, course tongue rolled over my hole and between my cheeks, matting and pulling at my fur, its normally light brown color pressing off to the side. The fur darkened not only expose more of my most private of areas, but to accentuate its light pinkness against the darker fur now glistening with his saliva.

I felt his muzzle press deep in between my rump, his broad muzzle prying me apart as I looked back, watching his snout press against the underside of my tail, that tongue continuing its unending barrage as it pressed and lapped and rolled over my sensitive flesh, my otterhood dripping like a faucet onto the sheets below me. I was genuinely enjoying it. My entire body was sore and quivering, shaking like a leaf at his bluntness and his onslaught against me, but I was at a hair-trigger, begging for release. I didn't even care as I felt his body shift, his tongue pulling away from me, a string of saliva connecting him to my under-tail, only to be replaced by his shaft pressing firmly to my lubricated hole.

He lapped at his paw before stroking the thick saliva onto himself, a paw griping at my hip, locking me in place as he bent over my frame, dwarfing me "Oh, I am going to enjoy this much more than my last servant... so cute you are, Panya..." he said in my ear as I shuddered. I looked back, his girth seeming to be even bigger as it pressed against me, threatening me as it poked and prodded, trying to find its mark. The thought drove me mad, and I knew it would hurt, but my hormones, his musk, the sound of the creaking bed and the night outside all added together to me wanting it, and he was more than willing to give as those hips rolled forward. Applying steady pressure, that barbed tip slowly pried me apart, my teeth gritting as I squirmed and writhed about him, sharp pain and stinging shooting up my spine as both of his arms locked themselves around my chest, squeezing the air out of me. The rock-hard lionhood popped in under my tail, causing a mute cry of pain from my throat, not unlike a hiccup, maw agape as his weight pressed down on me. My front half collapsed, cheek pressing firmly into the fabric of the bed as he rumbled, my rump pulsating in pain around him as he gave no mercy, not stopping as he slowly sank into my vice-like heat.

All I could think about was him sliding into me as his arms gripped me tighter and tighter in his grasp, his belly pressing the underside of my tail up as his breath rasped into my ears over me. He didn't bother to wait as he began to glide in an out of me, easily pulling out, but his entire body having to roll forward to press his thick shaft back under my tail. He kept going in slow, but powerful strokes, each one making the bed creak and groan under us in loud cracking and popping noises from the old wood. I couldn't help myself as my paw found itself between my legs, stroking my shaft that was crying out for attention as he mated me from behind, his legs spreading out wide for the best thrusting position. His thrusts became more haphazard as he went, angling in all directions as my free paw reached back, gripping his hip to feel each and every thrust into me, my rump going numb from the friction and use.

It wasn't long before I cried out in a high pitched whine, my climax rolling over me like a freight train, my otter seed shooting out, string after string onto the bed below. My entire body locked up, my tightness driving Lencho over the edge as he roared into my neck, his massive muzzle, biting into my neck and gripping me with his sharp fangs threatened to pierce my hide. Jets of his seed pulsated into me, painting my insides white, marking me as his territory as he used both arms to prop my rump up, pressing almost straight down into me, forcing every last bit he could deep under my tail. My back popped and ached as his weight pressed me down, twisting me in every way as he made sure to make his point, making me ride out the entire experience as his loud roar rang in my ears, his teeth baring in the darkness. It was only after he was done did he pull out of me, collapsing off to the side. His arms were still wrapped tightly around my waist, pulling me in tight as he spooned me, dwarfing me size in his own. I lied there, completely spent, like a rag-doll in his arms as I could feel his copious amount of seed slowly leaking out of me, his thick shaft resting between my legs and he rumbled behind me. "You can stay in here tonight. I may need you some more before sunrise." He said in an exhausted tone in my ear, his head flopping down into a pillow and giving me another squeeze before I heard him slowly drift off into a snoring sleep, his arms clasped around me like a cage.

I couldn't move and my entire body was sore and spent, and I too felt my exhaustion gaining precedence as my heart slowly began to settle, my eyes fluttering as the heat from the male behind me felt better than any blanket I had back at home. My heartbeat settled in with the lion behind me, and I felt myself falling into a deep, satisfied sleep to finish the first night of my moon with Lencho.