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Chapter 16

Etienne had heard stories of Crinnington Forest from Dr. Ellert. The professor told him when he was a boy how King Bastian razed the forest, burning it to the ground. When the incident occurred, Dr. Ellert had only just come to Varimore to tutor a very young Corene. When Ellert heard the talk at court, he was disgusted and astounded. Kingdom Krodor was far from viewing foxes as equals, but they never treated the creatures with such disregard for their lives. Queen Angelina Alva would never have allowed such a thing: an entire tribe of foxes slaughtered based on hearsay!

Krodor housed the world's largest population of white foxes, and history said it was built on the ruins of Queen Nadheertia's kingdom, the same white vixen who King Antony of Varimore took for his wife and later executed. Nadheertia's great palace still stood in Krodor and was even considered a holy site by the local dogs. Queen Nadheertia had surrendered peacefully to dog rule and for this reason, had always been considered an innocent and undeserving of King Antony's cruelty. After her execution, she became a martyr, and it was believed King Antony - now merged with the creator god - would one day send Nadheertia to the world again, bearing the gift of magic to share with dogs. All dogs would know Heaven on earth, and the world would live in her light.

Prince Etienne didn't buy such stories, so he wasn't afraid to enter Crinnington, which had long been the subject of ghost stories since its razing. Rather than walk the whole way in the rain and the mud, Etienne gave the half-awake gatekeeper one of Corene's diamond earrings to keep his mouth shut, then took a horse and rode out of Howlester with his cape flaring, never to look back.

The rain lightened up once Etienne entered Crinnington. He dismounted and led his horse along by the reins. The trees were black, the earth was ash, and the forest was silent. It even felt sick. Etienne was astonished. Crinnington had been burned twenty years before. It should have recovered. He looked around and supposed the stories of magic were true: the land had been cursed by the spilled blood of innocents.

But the further Etienne traveled, the greener his surroundings. He began to find trees that were whole, thriving bushes and undergrowth, flowers with petals closed for a long night's rest, lazy moths and fireflies, crickets chirruping. Life. He scolded himself for momentarily giving away to superstition: the forest was in the process of recovering! It just seemed to be taking more than twenty years . . .

Etienne had to ask himself why Duke Richard hadn't sent dogs to help the forest along. Crinnington was a part of Howlester Duchy, after all. Maybe the duke just didn't care about the forest. If he was truly anything like Jonathan, then Etienne wouldn't be surprised. Or perhaps the duke was as superstitious as his subjects, in which case it made sense that no one had dared entered the forest.

Etienne had stopped and was squinting through the rain when he noticed a yellow light bobbing between the trees. At first he thought it was a firefly, but it was far too large. And it was moving far too fast. He frowned, and tugging gently on his horse's reins, he followed the light.

The prince could swear_the light became _excited that he was following. It bobbed up, down, and around, pausing to hover bright against the foliage as if it was waiting for him to catch up. Its gentle glow lit the leaves of a nearby bush from under and gave a towering tree's bark an ethereal sheen.

Each time Etienne came close, the light immediately zipped out of reach. Etienne gritted his fangs, annoyed by this game of cat and mouse. Yet he kept following.

"Faster!" laughed a voice, its ghostly echo bouncing through the trees. "You're almost there!"

Etienne halted and looked around. "Where are you? Show yourself!"

"Right here, silly." The light zipped to Etienne's face and hovered just before his nose. It bounced up and down before flashing away again, leaving a line of light blazing in its wake. "Hurry! Hurry! This way! This way!"

The light was talking. Etienne glanced at his horse, which didn't seem perturbed at all, and kept following.

"To the right, silly! Here!"

The light dipped down. Etienne's eyes followed, and his breath caught in his throat: a beautiful young vixen lay in the mud, her life's blood pooling around her head. Her eyes were closed and her breathing shallow. She was practically naked, for the thin furs and skins she wore were tattered and torn. One of her big breasts was bare, and it rose and fell gently with her weak breaths. Her long legs stretched away from her, shapely and touching at the knee. Her puffy red tail was curled to her hip and twitched with pain at the tip. Most peculiar of all, she had _wings._Small, red wings grew from her back and were open beneath her, limp and defeated. Someone had beaten her: her lip was cut, her thighs bruised, and a bruise was rising over her right eye, purple and swollen.

Dropping the horse's reins, Etienne knelt down and gathered the vixen carefully in his arms. She moaned softly and her head fell to the side. Her lashes fluttered but didn't open, and her red mane tumbled across her face, half-hiding it. Her blood stained him. He held on with trembling fingers. She was so beautiful and frail. He was terrified she would die.

When Etienne had straightened up with the vixen in his arms, the light bobbed to his nose again, making his black muzzle glow.

"Good. Now this way, doggy. Hurry! Hurry!"

Etienne scowled to be called "doggy," but he followed as fast as the rain and the darkness would allow. He could hear his horse sloshing through the mud behind him and had to wonder why the beast wasn't at all agitated by the appearance of a talking ball of light. The horse was a white mare, sturdy and strong. He chose her simply because she seemed fearless and was glad his instincts hadn't betrayed him.

The yellow light led the way, pausing to shine on the path, to push back the darkness and fog. It shouted encouragement and even promised that the vixen could be saved if only Etienne would hurry.

"Wait!" Etienne begged, stumbling over a tree root. "Saved? Saved how?"

"Hurry, doggy! No time! To the right - the right!"

Etienne obeyed, clutching the beautiful vixen tighter to his chest when she whimpered. She was dying, he was certain of it. He had to get her back to Howlester, get her proper medical attention. What was he doing, following some talking light? But he kept following.

Eventually, they came to a clearing, where tall pillars of stone stood in a circle, etched with symbols in the moonlight. In the center of the stones was a stone dais, upon which an altar stood, scattered with flowers. The orb of light zipped to the altar and hovered beside it. Etienne climbed the stone step and carefully laid the beautiful vixen to rest.

"Get back!" squealed the light and zipped away.

Etienne staggered back just in time: the surrounding pillars lit up, and light shot from their symbols, forming a dazzling web over the altar. The vixen moaned as the light spread over her, setting her red fur aglow and smoothing over the ample curves of her hips, breasts, and thighs. Etienne watched in amazement as her cuts and bruises disappeared. Her breathing became stronger, faster, and her big breasts heaved. As the light collapsed to so many twinkling diamonds, her eyes fluttered open wide and she gasped. Then she lay there, coughing and panting.

Etienne could see the silhouette of the vixen's great breasts in the moonlight, heaving in her struggle for breath. He swallowed hard and was moving to approach the altar when he noticed someone out of the corner of his eye. He turned his head and froze: a little fox boy was standing on the edge of the clearing, glowing with a soft light. His smiling eyes were twin candle flames, and his face, chest, and belly were riddled with bloody holes. It sent a chill through Etienne's fur.

"Thank you for playing with me," the boy whispered, and before Etienne could react, he scattered into beads of light. His giggling echoed behind him as he sped away. "Eee hee hee!"

Left alone in the clearing, Etienne listened with pricked ears to the boy's shrill giggles. Out. He wanted out of CrinningtonForest!

"Mm . . . ennon non el . . .?"

Etienne looked with soft eyes at the vixen. She was murmuring in her language, frowning, her head rocking back and forth in the spread nest of her red mane. He gathered her carefully to his chest and carried her to a stream, his indifferent horse following slowly and lazily in his wake.

Though the vixen was healed and whole, she was still stained with dark blood. He let the cold water trickle over his fingers before smoothing them over her fur. Her lashes fluttered and he could see her eyes racing behind the sweep of her eyelids, as if searching for him.

He began to wipe the blood from her, carefully and gently, letting his fingers push through her incredibly soft fur. Blood was on the breast that was exposed, staining her rigid pink nipple. He hesitated and wiped the blood from her nipple. Feeling it roll in his fingers almost made him stiffen. The nipple was so small . . . He looked at it with narrowed eyes as he cleaned it. Her breasts were so full and large . . . He cupped the exposed one and squeezed momentarily as he was wiping the blood away.

Her lashes fluttered open and she looked directly at him. He halted. Her eyes were beautiful. Pale golden as sunlight. He couldn't look away. She didn't move, didn't speak. She lay wrapped in his arm and just looked at him. Her eyes suddenly clouded, and she dropped her cheek against his shoulder and closed them. Poor thing. Perhaps she still felt the ache of her injuries, even if they were gone.

He continued cleaning her, slowly and carefully. Some part of him was glad when she opened her eyes and watched his gentle fingers touching her. There was blood on her thighs, just near her sex. He halted when he realized: she had been raped. Her attacker had been forceful enough to draw blood from that most tender of places. He frowned at her in sympathy. She didn't meet his eye.

"Who are you?" he wondered. "Those stones healed you when only moments before you were dying."

"I am no one," she said tonelessly.

He smiled as he dragged his fingers through the water. "I beg to differ. Can you walk? You can come with me if you like, my lady."

Her lashes fluttered to hear his last words. He doubted anyone had ever called her "my lady" before.

". . . where are you going?" she whispered hoarsely.

"Far away from here."

She slipped her paw in his and whispered, "Okay."

***

Etienne was surprised that the vixen came so easily. He had expected her to do anything else, perhaps even disappear into thin air. He couldn't stop thinking of the little ghost boy, the magical altar, and . . . her wings. He wanted to ask about it all, but the vixen seemed so listless and sad, he decided against it.

She rode his horse as he led it along, to where he hadn't a clue. He only knew he wanted to go south and as far south as possible. It was said that to the south lay the wild lands and the deserts. The desert kingdoms were hostile and ruled by greyhounds, who hated the kingdoms to the north with a passion. Etienne would not be safe there if he was captured by one of the sovereign. But he would rather take the risk than return to Donica.

"The river," the vixen said. It was the first time she'd spoken in an hour.

Etienne's ear twitched and he glanced at her. She was peering beyond him, at the water glistening ahead. He followed her gaze to find they had come to a bend in the river. A cliff towered against the sky, roaring as water crashed over its edge. Etienne blinked, wondering how he had brought them to such a place without hearing that waterfall beforehand.

It started to rain hard. Etienne pulled his hood up and heard the vixen dismounting behind him. She slid gracefully to her feet, her puffy red tail sliding down behind her. The rain didn't seem to bother her, even as it dripped off her exposed nipple. Etienne turned his eyes away, and taking off his cloak, he offered it to her. She blinked at him, confused.

"Take it," he whispered and placed it around her shoulders.

She glanced down at the cloak, touched it, and looked at him. Her lips slowly curled in a half-smile. She was so pretty. He was staring at her absently when she took his paw.

"Through water," she said.

He frowned. Before he had a chance to question her, she was dragging him toward the river. His heart quickened when he realized she meant to walk into the water. Right into it!

"Er - wait . . . whoa, whoa! What are you . . .?" Etienne sputtered into silence when the vixen walked not into the water but on it. And for some insane reason, he was able to walk on it with her. "My god," he murmured, staring with large eyes at the fish that swam beneath their feet.

They passed through the curtain of water, and Etienne was shocked when they came out on the other side and he wasn't completely drenched. He looked around. They were in a small cavern filled with scattered clutter. He saw the vixen pause and glance around the cavern, as if she half-expected someone to be there. But finding no one, she went in disappointment to the barren fire pit, knelt, and started rubbing sticks together.

Etienne took an uncertain step into the room. He hated the thought that his horse was outside, in the cold and the rain, while he was here in this warm little place behind the waterfall. But his host was so lovely. He couldn't keep his eyes off her. He came to the fire pit and knelt beside her. She glanced up and smiled, her long red mane looping forward over one shoulder.

"Who are you?" he asked breathlessly.

"No one," she insisted and turned her eyes back to her work. A flame leapt to life but pattered out. She frowned, stroked it up again, and blew on it.

"Alright, No one," Etienne said playfully. "Do you have a name? I saved your life, after all."

She remained silent, breasts jiggling as she struggled to light the fire. She frowned slightly when he continued to stare.

Etienne dropped his eyes to her work. "Alright, have it your way, No one. Do you live out here alone? Who hurt you? At least tell me that."

She glanced at him irritably. "Talk too much."

Etienne chuckled. "You'll be the first one to ever say so."

She smiled in relief when the fire leapt and started blazing. Etienne watched as she extended her little paws to warm them. He reached in his coat and pulled out Corene's ring. Before she had a chance to look up, he had slipped it on her finger. She stared at it with round eyes.

"For you," he said.

She shook her head, one little paw cradling the other. "I can't . . ."

He touched the back of his fingers to her cheek, his eyes soft. "I insist."

Her lashes fluttered and she shied from his touch. He dropped his paw apologetically.

"You saved me from the rain. It's the least I can do."

She looked at him with amused golden eyes. Those gorgeous eyes. "I thought you saved me?"

He frowned. "Who hurt you? And are you still in danger? It would benefit me to know if some raging fox lover is due to come back here."

She laughed softly, a pretty sound that made his ears prick forward. "He won't come back," she assured him. "Spirits are frightened of this place." She glanced around, and Etienne thought she looked a little forlorn.

"Spirits?" he repeated. "Should I ask?"

"Probably not."

"Ah."

They fell silent, holding their paws to the fire.

Etienne's clothes were wet from the rain and hung heavily him. He slipped out of his coat and noted in amusement that the vixen was shyly watching when he started unbuttoning his shirt. He caught her eye, and she abruptly looked at the fire, drawing her knees up and hugging them. The motion revealed her pink sex, bulging between her thighs. She seemed unaware. Her long red mane was a cloak around her as her lashes lowered and she looked at the fire.

"Why are you alone?" he asked, pulling his wet shirt off over his head. His bare pectorals curved with shadows in the firelight, his rippling belly crunched as he leaned forward to warm his paws.

She stared at his chest absently before coming to her senses and looking at his face. "I -- I wasn't," she stammered. She was flustered and her eyes darted everywhere. He almost laughed. It was as if she'd never seen a male without a shirt before.

"Are you hungry?" he asked her. He'd brought one of his saddlebags and inside were dry biscuits and some wine - both of which he'd lifted from Howlester Manor. He pulled the biscuits out and she looked at them with longing. He took a swig from the wineskin and set it on the ground near his knee.

"My things are out in the forest," she said unhappily.

"Right. Your camp."

He offered her a biscuit. She reached for it, but he snatched it away. She halted and frowned at him. He offered again. She reached. He snatched.

"Don't toy with me!"

"If only you'd let me."

She blushed prettily, and with a determined frown, scooted closer to take the biscuit. This time when he snatched it, she reached immediately with her other paw. But he held on, and she only managed to break a piece off. She stuffed it ravenously in her mouth, and the crumbs clung to her lips as she munched. Etienne laughed: she must've been starving to eat a dried biscuit like a piece of cake.

Her golden eyes looked at him again and zeroed in on the biscuit still in his paw, bright with hunger. She made a snatch, but he held the biscuit out of reach.

"A name," he said, holding the biscuit aloft. He smiled when she glared at him. "Tell me your name and I'll --"

She made a sudden desperate grab and tackled him to the ground. He laughed as her curvy body spread its soft warmth over him. Her breasts smashed to his chest, the exposed one near his face. She reached above his head for the biscuit, which he was still holding at bay. The motion pulled her breast up high, and the temptation to suck her pink nipple was excruciating.

"A name!" he repeated.

She grabbed his paw, drew it to her face, and proceeded to eat the biscuit right out of his fingers. He laughed incredulously and sat up on his elbow, watching as she chewed. He pressed the rest of the biscuit in her mouth and was surprised when she sucked momentarily on his finger. He slowly pulled his finger free and cupped her face with his big paw. Her cheek became hot at once.

"Az-Azrian," she managed, still chewing and swallowing.

He smiled at her with soft eyes. "See? That wasn't so hard, was it?"

She started to back off, but he smoothed his paw down the small of her back and whispered, "Stay. I like you on top of me."

Her lashes fluttered. "Don't say such things . . ."

"They are true things."

Her eyes dropped, and realizing her bare breast was touching him, she cupped it and covered it. Which didn't help at all. The big thing spilled soft between her fingers, like rising bread. He felt himself stiffening.

"A little late to be demure, isn't it?" he teased.

She looked at him with large eyes, and he could only imagine what she was seeing: him, big and strong, shirtless, bare chest rippling with muscles in the firelight. His long golden mane was heavy from the rain and clung to his cheek. She stared at him, enrapt as she brushed it back with slender fingers. He caught her little paw and kissed it.

"Wh-What's your name?" she whispered breathlessly.

He smiled. "Etienne."

Her eyes flew wide. It was as if he'd announced he was going to rape her. She scrambled up, breasts flying, and ran. He frowned and got to his feet. She was two steps from disappearing through the waterfall. He lunged after her and gently caught her tail. Her puffy red tail twisted to escape his grasp. She turned and grabbed it, tugged, panted. Her face was desperate and horrified.

"What's the matter?" he begged.

She didn't answer. She finally yanked herself free and nearly fell. He caught her in his arms, and her little paws braced on his shoulders. Their faces were close enough to rub noses. She panicked, her wings flapping, her body twisting like a bird caught by the tail.

"Hey!" Etienne cried in amazement. "Look at me, Azrian!"

She fell still, looking at him breathlessly. A lick of red mane slipped across her frightened eyes. She was so beautiful and afraid; he wanted to kiss her fear away.

"It's alright. I wouldn't hurt you. I would never hurt you."

She swallowed and her lips parted. He saw her eyes go to his lips, but as if she had caught herself, she tore from his arms and ran blindly, only to stop at the wall. She stood facing it, hugging herself, her head down. He could see her lashes around the sweep of her long mane.

"Azrian . . ."

He went to her and touched her shoulder. She tensed. He let go.

"What's the matter?"

"It can't be you," she said miserably.

"I've never felt this way before," he confessed and saw her lashes flutter in surprise. He touched her mane. "I want this."

She closed her eyes, as if pained. "No, you don't."

"Yes. . . ."

Etienne didn't know why he did it, but he drew close, pressing his belly to her slender back. He was getting hard in his breeches just from the sight of her - her and that tight young body, all curves and long legs, high buttocks and big, jiggling breasts. He felt the pull each and every time he looked in her eyes, and it was as if those eyes had been waiting for him to look in them. It was as if he had been waiting to hear her laugh. All his life.

"We sh-shouldn't," she whispered when he kissed her neck.

"But it feels right," he murmured between kisses.

She shrugged her shoulder up, shying from the sweet, imploring touch of his lips. His paw slid around her hip and between her thighs, where he found her swollen clitoris, hungry and pulsing above the lips of her moist sex. She was aroused. Very aroused. He started to massage her clit, slowly and carefully, and she trembled, pressing her cheek to the wall with hooded eyes. His other paw cupped her exposed breast and squeezed.

"Etienne . . ." she whispered, a longing sigh that made him smile.

"You feel it too."

"Y-Yes . . ."

He unbuttoned his breeches, and his thick erection sprang free. It was pulsing as hungrily as her clit. She lifted her thigh, and he slowly slid himself through her moisture, moaning long in her ear. Her lashes fluttered as he slowly filled her until the lips were taunt and clenching. She cried out. He began to thrust, trailing kisses up her neck and to her cheek. He licked her hard, and her breast was soft in his groping paw. His other paw slid to her clit, and as he made love to her against the wall, he fingered her to squirting.