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Every Name But Hers

Chapter 37

Etienne was too weak to fight the foxes, and they knew it. They hogtied him easily enough and carried him back to their burrow, gagged and hanging from a stick. They marched him solemnly through the trees - trees that were dark green and gray-green and murky and dour as they blocked out the sunlight. The forest was one of darkness, where plantlife struggled to grow in the cold shadow of the trees and barren bushes reached their naked, spiderly limbs to the sky in supplication. The black foxes themselves were thin, their cheeks gaunt, their eyes bright in the dark day and glowing with hunger.

Down the dark hole they took Etienne, silent and grim. There were twelve male warriors total, with one female with small sharp breasts pressing behind a thin top made of gray bear hide. She was the one who had first spoken to Etienne, and there was something sort of terrible about her, even intimidating. She carried a bow and a quiver of arrows with feathers red as blood, and her mass of black mane was piled atop her head in a mess. Her black nails were very long, as were her fangs each time she spoke, and her voice was the sharp hiss of a snake. She moved like a snake as well, with careful precision, tail always winding behind her. And she was so thin, even wrapped as she was in bear fur. She dangled with beads and teeth, and a tooth had been poked through her nose. The rest of her tribe was similarly dressed, and looking at them, Etienne thought they were nothing like Azrian. They were the epitome of the word "heathen." They were the terrible unknown, the terrible thing that "good" pious dogs whispered about in their churches.

And yet, somehow, Etienne was unafraid. He felt only . . . curious. As the foxes carried him down twisting tunnel after twisting tunnel, he found himself studying the female who had first addressed him. She seemed to be in charge. The others called her Taiga - as well as anything under the sun but her name -- and though he couldn't fully understand their language, he could understand from their body language that she was definitely someone important. She was about his age and carried herself with confidence, if not fury. Etienne knew that stance. He had seen it a thousand times: females always had to be twice as tough, twice as fierce to gain even an ounce of the respect that males did so effortlessly. So the foxes lived in a world where females were automatically at a disadvantage. They weren't so different from dogs after all.

A young male was always at Taiga's side. He looked a great deal like her and carried a dagger around his throat, a spear on his shoulder. A tooth pierced his ear like an earring, and his long black mane was pulled back in a single plait. He was thin but had strong shoulders and a strong body. A white circle had been painted around his navel and another around his left eye. Before Etienne heard his name for the first time, he called the young male Left Eye in his mind. But Taiga called him Asres and bickered with him on occasion. It became apparent at once that he was her brother. He seemed more interested in Etienne than her. He watched Etienne often . . . and sometimes smiled at him.

Etienne would smile back at Asres and silently wish that the boy was in charge instead of his sister. Wherever they were going, he had the feeling that his fate would rest in the paws of Taiga, not Asres. He would be a fool to think otherwise.

They went silently down the twisting underground corridors, and black foxes everywhere stuck their heads from burrows to stare, some holding lanterns of magical blue fire, others holding cubs, and still others holding sheets to their naked breasts. They stared in awe, and Etienne got the impression it was the first time many of them had seen a dog up close.

And a naked dog at that. Etienne had awoken in the river, naked and drowning, his lungs full of water. He could still feel the fingers that had clutched at his throat. And whatever happened to him in Skkye, he could scarcely remember but for flashes. He remembered La'puit and her pretty eyes, her jiggling breasts, her coy claws on his backside. He remembered brilliantly orange Li'Enlil bending him over a table . . . and the way the tassels on the tablecloth shivered as he pounded him. . . . He remembered screaming as the cum dripped from his penis . . . and then what? It was all a haze.

But he definitely remembered Azrian. She was in Wychowl. And he had to get to her. Somehow, someway.

"Pray to your gods, dog," whispered one of the warriors to Etienne. He carried one end of the pole Etienne was tied to, the end near his head. As a result, his big penis was very near Etienne's face, swinging softly as he walked. He glanced down at Etienne with his serious gray eyes. "You will need their favor."

Etienne glanced up at the male and muttered around his gag, "Thanks?"

The male glared. He was very big, muscular, and tall, and the way Asres always followed Taiga, he was always following Asres. He seemed very protective of the young male, and his eyes were always on Asres' back. Etienne knew that the others called him Feven, that he wore the teeth of his enemies - dogs he had killed in the forest - around his throat. His long black mane was loose around his shoulders, and he carried the scent of the forest and its velvety black flowers.

Etienne soon realized why Feven had deigned to speak to him: they had come to the end of the tunnel. A great archway opened before them upon a large round room. As Etienne was carried inside, he thought it was rather like a throne room. Blue lights hovered like fireflies, setting the room aglow with their magic. The walls were lined with colorful depictions of foxes sitting to a hearing - a direct mirror of what was happening now. There were wooden seats for an audience, and indeed, an audience was in attendance: many black foxes sat straight and solemn, swathed in bear fur and deerskins, pierced with teeth, and watching as Etienne was carried toward the steps.

Up the steps on a wooden platform sat a black fox on a fur-lined throne. He was small and thin and old, his tiny eyes squinting, his mouth a grim line. Upon his head was a crown of black feathers, and black feathers had been tied to his ankles and wrists. He watched with narrowed eyes as Etienne was brought before him.

The procession stopped, and smiling down at Etienne, Feven pulled a knife. Etienne's eyes grew wide, but Feven only cut Etienne's legs and arms free. The prince fell hard on the earthen floor as laughter rippled through the audience. The warriors who had escorted them left, taking the pole with them. Only Taiga, Asres, Feven, and two others remained.

The two remaining warriors - whose names Etienne never learned - grabbed the prince by the arms and hauled him to his feet. He was marched to the throne and made to kneel at the steps. Etienne knew he should keep his head down, but he couldn't help watching as Taiga climbed the step to the throne. His eyes followed her switching black tail and the audience laughed again. So did Asres, who watched Etienne in amusement.

Taiga was not amused. She spun about to hear the laughter, and catching Etienne's eyes somewhere at her sex, she lunged down the step and kicked him in the face. More laughter as Etienne toppled over and saw stars. The two warriors behind him caught him and righted him, making laughing comments in their language as Taiga climbed the steps again to the throne. She stood beside the throne with Asres and angrily jerked her chin, and though she looked beside herself with fury, Etienne looked in her eyes and thought he saw something surprised and even _flattered_there.

The laughter died down when the fox on the throne smiled and waved his paw, and what happened next Etienne couldn't say. They spoke in their language - some of which he could only decipher in bits and phrases. Every now and then, the one on the throne stopped to look at Etienne, and for some reason, Taiga looked at him as well and her breasts heaved angrily. Then a decision was made, and everyone seemed to agree, for the foxes in attendance placed their paws on their hearts and bowed. Everyone seemed happy. Taiga was the only one glaring at Etienne as if she would kill him. But that wasn't unusual.

Everyone then filed out, and Etienne grunted as Feven grabbed him by the neck and jerked him to his feet. He then snatched Etienne around . . . and flipped him over his shoulder like a sack. Etienne couldn't believe it. Feven was big, but Etienne wasn't exactly small. And yet he was being slapped around like a ragdoll. He lay on the bigger male's shoulder, trying to catch his breath and silently fuming as he was carried away.

What in god's name was going on?

Feven carried Etienne for a long time, and once again, foxes stood in the underground passages, gawking and whispering and clutching their throats. Small children whisked away into burrows or else stood staring and pointing. Etienne gave one cub a lopsided smile and lifted his paw in greeting. The cub screamed and ran inside her burrow, shouting that the dog god was going to eat her.

"Dog god?" Etienne muttered. He'd spent enough time with Azrian to learn those words.

"Stop staring at the children, you're scaring them," Feven grumbled.

"Where are you taking me?" Etienne ventured.

"Shut up," Feven returned.

So Etienne shut up, his arms and legs swinging as he was marched along.

Eventually, they came to a burrow and Feven ducked inside. The front room was dark and lit by a guttering blue fire. A bear fur was stretched across the floor like a throw rug, and there were pots and pans hanging from the ceiling, little tables and chairs, shelves with carved trinkets. It felt warm and cozy. It felt like a home.

Feven carried Etienne into an adjoining bedroom and set him on the bed. Etienne sat on the edge of the mattress and glanced around awkwardly. He was naked. He was cold. And he was sitting in someone's home on someone's bed. And Feven standing there with his arms folded just glaring and staring wasn't making it less awkward.

And they remained thus. In silence. Etienne sat and twiddled his thumbs. Feven stood and glared. Etienne hoped someone who was willing to talk to him was on the way. Eventually, he couldn't take anymore.

"Your name is --?"

"Shut --"

"--Feven, right?"

"--up."

Etienne smiled. Feven glared.

"You know," said Etienne with a laugh, "I'm willing to bet there are some herbal remedies that would get whatever's stuck up your ass --"

"Raaaaa!" Feven howled angrily. He was about to start at Etienne when someone burst in the room.

"Feven!" someone scolded.

Etienne looked over and was relieved to see Asres standing there. He looked like a child beside Feven, though Etienne would have placed him in his early twenties. He glared at the lumbering warrior, and Feven's chest heaved but he backed off, folding his arms again and standing against the wall.

Asres said something dismissive in his language and Feven looked outraged. It was more than obvious Asres has just asked the warrior to leave. Feven shook his head, and with worried gray eyes, placed an imploring paw on Asres' shoulder. He whispered something in the younger male's ear and Asres smiled, much amused. The younger male whispered something back and Feven seemed to relent. He was still leaning over Asres' shoulder when his biting gray eyes turned to Etienne and issued a silent threat. Etienne stiffened as Feven glared at him and squeezed a possessive paw on Asres' shoulder before turning and stamping out.

Left alone in the little bedroom with Asres, Etienne bit his lip. He stiffened again when Asres smiled at him and sat on the bed at his side.

"It's alright," Asres said in common tongue. The words sounded awkward and slow coming from his mouth, and Etienne knew he only spoke the language when occasion called for it, if at all. "Feven is just . . . really jealous. He thinks you want to fuck me."

Etienne's mouth almost fell open to hear those words. He laughed weakly. Well . . . he couldn't lie. Asres was very desirable. As desirable as his utterly beautiful sister.

"Where are my manners?" Asres said and cleared his throat. "I am Prince Asres of the Maret Clan. We worship She of Darkness and The Death on Fell Wings. One of our Seers says that whosoever weds the dog god will rule the world at his side and bring the earth back to the foxes."

". . . the dog god being me," Etienne said lightly.

Asres smiled. "Yes. Great Ti'uu tried to make sure his child was the one to rule at your side, so that he could in turn rule Aonre through her. But Maret wishes that her child should rule the earth. And She of the Fell Wings will not pass up this opportunity."

"Meaning . . ." Etienne sighed. "I have to marry Maret's child?"

Asres smiled. "Yes." His moon-shaped eyes were so pretty. They reminded Etienne for a moment of La'puit and he blinked the memory away - the sudden memory of her eyes smiling into his as she rode him breathlessly with bouncing breasts.

"But . . ." Etienne shook his head. "Isn't your Maret worried about angering Ayni? She already has it out for me. Cursed me with fire . . . made me her kids' plaything . . . and tried to drown me, I think." He blinked as he realized.

Asres smiled at Etienne and shook his head as if he were a little child who knew nothing of the world. "Etienne, child of Hildrith'el . . . why should Death fear Fire?"

Etienne blinked. "Child of Hildrith'el? Isn't she the top god or something?"

"She is the queen of all, yes. And she is your mother. The creator of your bloodline. She created the dogs. To curse us. To punish us." Asres' long lashes fanned down sadly.

"Why doesn't she do something then?" Etienne demanded angrily. He waved a paw. "To, you know, _protect_me from her arguing friends? I'm being passed from god to god over here!"

Asres smiled sympathetically. "It is her game to watch. She wishes to let the gods fight for the right to rule Aonre. They think she knows not what they do. But she knows all. And when it is over . . . she will judge accordingly."

"Ah." Etienne looked away. "So I'm on my own. Can't say I'm surprised."

Asres laughed. "It isn't so bad, though, is it? They say you have been granted godhood. That is why the others fear you. You died and came back. We saw the light when you fell to Aonre." His pretty eyes grew round. "What else could you do, I wonder?" Without thinking, he smoothed his paw over Etienne's thigh and squeezed his knee.

Etienne's eyes softened, and just as absently, he touched Asres' lip with his large thumb. Asres blinked and shied away, averting his pretty eyes to the wall.

Etienne cleared his throat and rubbed his arm. "I'm sorry. I seem to have a thing for foxes."

Asres laughed sadly. "I have not come here to be with you. I came to prepare you. To love you is my sister's blessing and burden."

Etienne looked at him quickly. ". . . what?"

Asres lifted his face and smiled proudly. "Taiga. She is the child of Maret, born of magic, as every heir to every tribe has been born of magic since we first fell from the favor of Hildrith'el. Taiga is not a god child like you or your Azrian. She is not a half-mortal. But she carries the magic of Great Maret and was born when Great Maret took possession of our mother and birthed her. That is enough."

Etienne blinked in confusion when Asres smoothed his paws over his chest, pushing him down on the bed. He lay there quietly and watched as the young male took a small pouch off his belt and dipped his fingers. What he pulled out looked like grease fat. He looked in Etienne's eyes, and with careful fingers, applied the grease to his penis. It was surprisingly warm.

Etienne frowned and bit his lip as he hardened in the young male's paw. "Mmfph . . . A-Asres . . . s-stop . . . what are you . . .?"

"Just a little more," Asres whispered and dipped his fingers in the pouch again. "You see, my sister has never been with a male. We want it to be pleasant for her. We don't wish for her to hurt. And you . . . you are quite big. You would definitely hurt her."

Etienne felt himself getting breathless as Asres massaged him to throbbing. If he had any doubt before, it was clear now: Feven was definitely Asres' lover. The boy had had some practice. And then some.

"But . . ." Etienne whispered breathlessly, "what if I don't go along with this? What if I refuse? Run away?"

Asres halted. He looked Etienne in the eye and his pretty eyes were flat and serious. "Then we kill you," he said simply, "and you will return to Skkye, where who knows what will happen to you. Perhaps Ayni will have someone waiting for you. Someone not as pleasant as La'puit and her brother Li'Enlil." That said, Asres dipped his fingers again and went back to stroking Etienne's penis with the grease.

Etienne relaxed into the sheets and stared dismally at the ceiling as those skilled fingers made him flinch. "How do you know about them?" he whispered.

"I have been blessed of Yfel," the young male answered quietly. "I wish to become a full Seer and look into all that is future and past. But Feven . . ."

"He doesn't want you to."

"No," Asres confirmed a little sadly. "He wishes for me to keep my sight. And not surrender it for the Sight."

"You should keep it," Etienne whispered. "Sometimes it's better . . . not knowing what will come." He smiled as he thought of Azrian.

Asres smiled sympathetically, as if emerging from his thoughts. "I am sorry you have lost her. What she is doing in Wychowl . . . Ayni will bring that to an end."

Etienne looked at him quickly. "What?"

Asres dropped his eyes, as if he had said too much. He tucked the pouch back on his belt and was rising when Etienne caught his wrist. He looked at Etienne, his eyes large with fear.

"Please," Etienne begged. "Is Azrian in danger? Tell me!"

Asres' lips parted and his eyes darted across the walls. Etienne shook him a little. Their eyes connected, and just when it seemed as if Asres might speak, Taiga entered the room. She nudged her brother lightly with her foot and waved for him to leave. Relief crossing his face, Asres twisted from Etienne's grasp and fled.

Etienne relaxed on the pillows again, feeling guilty under Taiga's accusing stare.

"Like my brother, don't you?" she said, calmly unbuttoning her bear furs.

Etienne swallowed hard when her top dropped forward, then fell away to the earthen floor, exposing her high breasts. They were plump and full as melons, the tiny nipples jutting like raisins. She smoothed her paws along her waist and hips, pushing her bear skin pants off next. They, too, fell to the floor to reveal her round hips and the dark sex between her shapely thighs. She reached up to let down her mane, and one of her breasts pulled up from motion. Etienne licked his lips and felt himself getting harder.

"Are you one of those males," she went on, "that only likes dick? You one of those males who think sex without a cock isn't sex at all? That somehow a penis is better than a vagina? So we must all be so miserable without one?"

"I . . . what?" Etienne babbled. He couldn't think straight with her standing there naked. Her breasts moved on her slightest word, and ye gods, they were plump and firm. He wanted to grab her and pull her down and squeeze them . . . stick his erection between them and let the head poke in her mouth. He squeezed his eyes shut and hated himself. Why, why was this happening?

"Don't look so miserable," Taiga said with a laugh. "You might like pussy. And who knows? I might like cock." She smirked as she turned her back to him. Her mane was down now, tumbling black down her narrow back. Slowly and carefully, she straddled his lap . . . and brought her tight sex down on his erection.

But she was too tight. She tried to bring herself over the head of Etienne's enormous penis and halted when it barely got in.

Cock blocked again, Etienne thought. But dare he help her? As he understood it, he was supposed lay here and quietly allow her to ride him. And then perhaps she would have his child and rule all the earth. Besides, the sight of her straining sex was delicious. It was dark brown and leathery, clinging tight to the head of his penis in a massage that sent shivers through him. She braced her slender arms and hunched her back, trying with all her might to ease down on him. But her hymen was not going to break without force. And they both knew it.

"I'm sorry," Etienne said softly, "but it's not going in." He put his big paw on the base of her tail and prepared to pull.

"Wait . . ." she whispered breathlessly. She knelt over him, her back to him, her head bowed. Her shoulders began to shake, and it took him a moment to realize she was crying. She was afraid.

Etienne sat up and held her tightly. She was surprised by his kindness but grateful still. Her lashes fluttered and she looked up at him, tears in her eyes like a child.

"Don't hurt me?" she whispered.

Etienne smiled at her. "But why fear this pain? You are a warrior. Surely you've taken wounds worse than this?"

Taiga bowed her head a moment, then sniffled and whispered, "It is not pain I fear."

"Ah," Etienne said as it dawned on him. The pain she could handle but humiliation? No wonder her back was to him. And her little speech before when she was undressing . . . males had been humiliating and belittling her all her life. No wonder she had been so cruel to him before.

Etienne kissed her neck and she shivered. "What are you doing?" she whispered as his paws found her breasts as massaged. God, they were plump. So ripe and full in his paws. He squeezed gently and watched her gasp. He cupped them and weighed them, then massaged again, kissing her neck and ear as the tears glistened in her eyes.

"Do it," she whispered, shivering in his arms. She clung to him helplessly and her long nails pinched the toned muscles of his arms when she whispered, "Make love to me."

Etienne spread the lips of her sex with two fingers, then pulled his hips back . . . and eased himself in. He felt her hymen shatter and collapse as he slid in deep. She gasped shrilly and her head fell back, thrusting her breasts forward in his paws. "A-Ahhh!" He closed his eyes and sighed as the heat of her enclosed him. He could feel the blood trickling hot down his shaft. She was trembling and crying, but her brows drew together to feel that first pleasure mixed with the pain. Her fumbling paw reached back and touched the strong line of his jaw. She whispered for him to keep going. He clutched her breasts in fistfuls, kissed her neck, and made love to her the night through.

She whispered every name but his.

And he whispered every name but hers.