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Under Her Skin

Chapter 12

"You will never cross the bridge of light, girl," said the handsome fox. "Not in that skin." He laughed and continued pealing his fruit with a small knife.

Zeinara glared at him. She was tired. She was hungry. And she was pissed. She couldn't approach the gates to the bridge of light without her ears suddenly bleeding. Had she truly come all this way for nothing? In the chaos of Robin's disappearance, she had fled Wychowl and had been traveling for weeks, always toward the bridge of light. It didn't look far from the castle, but a few days on the road gave her a rude awakening after that assumption.

Zeinara hated traveling through muddy forests on foot. She had brought a hunting rifle from the castle and was an adept marksman, but she had never in her life imagined how difficult it was to actually skin a hare and cook it. She spent hours foraging for wild vegetables to slice up in her stew, and it always seemed that just when she had finally built a proper fire and was sitting down to cook, some stranger would see her smoke and come along. Then she would have to put the fire out and hide or abandon her camp altogether. Watching from the bushes, she saw they were always bandits or else some dog or fox looking for trouble, and she wondered angrily why no one nice ever stumbled upon her camp.

When she wasn't starving or hiding in the bushes, Zeinara was trudging through the rain, wading across rivers with her pack over her head, running from hostile bears only to hide in abandoned fox burrows. After only a few days of such toil, she developed a real respect and even sympathy for foxes who lived such lives on a daily basis, avoiding capture, avoiding death, hunting and foraging in forests that were lethal to them simply because they were foxes. It was a difficult life, but there was no going back now. Robin's disappearance had only furthered Zeinara's determination to reach Azrian on S'pru. If Azrian was really a goddess, then she could help Robin. She could make everything right.

That Mogethis had kidnapped Robin was still baffling and infuriating. But it was clear that Robin had wanted to go, had even expected it. Perhaps Mogethis had put a spell on Robin, which made it ten times worse. Zeinara still didn't understand how or why Mogethis - someone she loved and trusted -- could have done such a thing, and each time she thought of it, furious tears started to her eyes. She would look down to see the grass where she had trod had turned black, little insects had curled up in agony from the fall of her shadow, and she realized that when she was angry . . . she made things die.

It was not something that had ever happened to her before, and she was horrified. Everyday, she looked at the Second Sun in the sky and knew it had to do with her proximity to S'pru. The closer she came to the bridge of light, the stronger this strange power sleeping inside of her grew. It almost made her halt her journey. She didn't like killing things.

Now after weeks of toil, Zeinara was here. The gates to the bridge stood before her, flanked by the press of trees. The bridge's golden light reached up and up, a glowing overpass that stretched across the heavens and beyond the stars. But she could not ascend without intense pain. And she stood there trying to will herself to either turn back or advance at the risk of her life.

The handsome fox was sitting on a stump near the gates, pealing the pink fruit as he watched Zeinara's indecision in amusement. She wanted to hit him. He seemed to know she was part fox, something that hadn't been readily apparent to anyone for years. The older Zeinara grew, the more like a dog she appeared, and yet, the stranger knew what she was. She wouldn't have been surprised if he could read minds and she immediately found him irritating and foul. His bright brown eyes had a way of passing over her, as if they could see what was under her clothes. She closed her paw on the hilt of her dagger as she approached him. He glanced at the dagger and seemed to know it was Skkye Glass. His wise eyes traced over her, twinkling and amused, and she wondered with sudden anger if there was anything he didn't know just by looking at her.

"Why are you sitting here?" Zeinara imperiously demanded.

The handsome fox snorted indignantly. He took a bite of the strange pink fruit, and his fangs cut through the flesh, pushing up bubbles of acidy juice. He munched a moment before he spoke again. "Don't I have a right to sit here? Or should I remove myself from Her High and Mighty's presence?"

"Aha," Zeinara said dryly.

The fox continued to chew, and Zeinara watched him from the corner of her eye while pretending to look at the gates. He was a red fox with a white chin and a wisp of white fur extending from it. His eyes were slanted, sharp, amber, and sparkling with mirth. His mane was messy and white and fell in a cascade across one of his mocking eyes. He was wearing odd clothing for a fox: a long white robe with a thin ribbon of gold for a belt, over which had been pulled a coat made of rough brown bear fur. Sandals were on his feet, and Zeinara was surprised. It had been raining steadily the last few weeks, but the fox's strange golden sandals were not enough to protect him. In fact, his shoes were strictly aesthetic, not unlike the frivolous shoes noble bitches wore within high society. On his back was a fur pack with odds and ends dangling from it: pots, pans, teeth, feathers, and skinning knives. He was a traveler and had been traveling for some time, but one glance over his person, and Zeinara knew he was also very magically talented: like Mogethis, he carried no weapons, only a walking stick, which was more than likely a stave used to channel magic.

"Sharp one, aren't you?" the fox said, emerging from her thoughts. He watched her intently.

Zeinara lifted her chin.

"But you can't be too sharp," he went on, licking juice off his lip, "as you're heading toward S'pru. It's a death trap for one like you."

"I have to go there," Zeinara said stiffly. "I have no choice."

The fox slowly grinned, his fangs cutting the corners of his smile. "Isn't that what we always say when we need an excuse to make a huge mistake?"

Zeinara scowled. "Couldn't you just go away?"

The fox continued grinning. "No. I was waiting for you, actually."

Zeinara stiffened.

"You see," he licked his lips again and took another bite of the fruit, "you were destined to come to this very spot, bent on making a huge mistake. You want to make my sister mortal, thinking she's your long lost ma. And that's a mistake."

Zeinara blinked. "Azrian is your . . .?"

"Not that she knows about me. Da's a bit ashamed of me." He pinched his own ragged coat. "Guess he should be."

Zeinara's eyes narrowed. "Who are you?"

The fox grinned. "Someone who can help you, girl. I can get you into S'pru. I can help you cross the bridge of light and live."

Zeinara cocked a brow. "You'd help me even though you think I'm making a mistake?"

"Your mistake is . . ." the fox slowly smiled, ". . . convenient."

"But of course you want something in return," Zeinara said at once.

"Said you were sharp, didn't I?"

Zeinara's throat tightened, but she asked fearlessly, "What do you want?"

The fox stuck the fruit in his teeth, and slinging his pack around on the ground, he opened it and started rifling through it. Zeinara watched, silently horrified as skulls and fingers and crushed spiders the size of her head rolled from his pack and through the grass. At last, he tugged out what was clearly a fox pelt and held it aloft. She resisted taking a step back.

The fox smiled, sensing the disgust Zeinara was trying with a cold face to hide. "It's magical, girl. This hide once belonged to a goddess. No one remembers her. You know why?"

"You know I don't," Zeinara said derisively. "But I'm sure you're going to tell me."

"She was Mohaua, Goddess of Mercy and Malice. She was my mother." The fox rolled his eyes to the sky thoughtfully. "Which makes Azrian my half-sister. Or something."

". . . what happened to her?" Zeinara asked, not certain she wanted to know.

The fox looked her in the eye. "I killed her."

Zeinara felt a chill. If she was to believe this fox, then he was a god, the son of two gods, and . . . her uncle. Her eyes darted to the gates. Maybe she could make a run for it.

"You can not cross without my help," he said, emerging once more from her thoughts. He took a seat on the stump again, laying the red pelt carefully on the grass. Zeinara thought the eyeholes grotesque and wished he would put the thing away. She stood stiffly and indecisively as he watched her, intently and with much amusement.

"Of course, my father cast me down to Aonre when I killed her. Banished me. As time passed, I became mortal."

"Serves you right," Zeinara sneered.

The fox laughed softly.

"How do you even kill a god?" she demanded.

"Don't be foolish," the fox said and nodded at her hip. "You've got the answer right there on your belt." He stared at the dagger with an amber flame in his eye, and Zeinara clutched the hilt tighter, feeling the fear tingle through her. Even if he had lied about being a god, the stranger was very powerful regardless. She could feel it crackling on the air.

"You want the dagger, don't you?" Zeinara accused.

"No, I don't want the dagger, actually," the stranger returned with a shrug. He popped the last morsel of fruit in his mouth and swallowed it down. "I will give you this pelt. It will give you the appearance of my mother. The pelt will help you fool the barrier against dogs. You will be able to enter S'pru."

"And in exchange?"

The fox glanced down between Zeinara's thighs, and she stiffened indignantly. She was wearing tight traveling pants, boots, a loose shirt, and a cloak. On her back was her rifle, and she was half-inclined to pull it. The fox looked hungry enough to pin her down and tear her clothing to shreds.

"You're . . ." the stranger's nostrils flared, " . . . virgin."

Zeinara's throat tightened again. "But - you're my uncle!"

"No, I'm not, girl. Or I couldn't want your sweet little pussy." He licked his lips.

Zeinara hated herself when she blushed to her hairline. "I c-can't give you that!"

"Then I can't give you the pelt," he said and started rolling it up.

Zeinara took a shuddering breath and glanced at the gates. The light beyond was shimmering so brightly, it made her eyes ache. And the pain of it ringing in her ears. . . . She knew she could never withstand it without aid. But the fox could have been lying about the pelt for all she knew! She suddenly decided to take the risk. As the fox was rolling the pelt up, she set her boot on it and said solemnly, "Alright."

The fox looked up at her . . . and slowly smiled.

***

"Ah! Ah! Ah! Ah!"

"Spread your legs, girl!"

"I-I . . ."

"Spread them! Too tight to get in . . ." The fox braced himself and stabbed his shaft to the base, pushing the clenching lips of Zeinara's sex wider. "Mmfph!"

"Ahh!"

Zeinara rocked on paws and knees, breasts flapping as the fox pounded her, trying to ignore the dull pain between her legs, trying to ignore the blood trickling down her thighs. She arched her back and twisted when he wildly groped her breasts, and when his fangs tore savagely into her neck, she screamed weakly. But it didn't hurt. It was the suddenness of the bite, the ferocity of his head twisting that frightened her. He squeezed her breasts hard and slapped his hips against her, grunting rhythmically as he pounded his shaft deeper, harder between the clenching lips of her conquered sex. She had often tried to imagine sex with a male, and now that she knew what it was like, she wasn't certain she ever wanted to do it again. He was savage, wild, and rough, grabbing her by the tail, humping her back, banging her until her breasts flapped everywhere, until her mane tumbled in her helpless face. She had allowed him to undress her, and he had done it so slowly and reverently that she had never anticipated the romp to follow.

"Don't . . . come inside!" she protested. She could feel him thickening and swelling and she knew it was coming. She was right. He hunched his back, drove himself deeply, and choked weakly, flinching inside her. She thrust her backside against him and moaned as his hot seed rushed to fill her. "No!" she wailed, scrambling to get away.

He grabbed her by the neck and smoothed his other paw down her narrow back, simultaneously calming her and holding her still: he was still coming. He pressed his hips hard against her, and glancing back, she could see the rippling muscles of his belly flexing. Her eyes widened as his thick shaft continued to heave inside her, wriggling against her tight walls until the pleasure made her squirm. His fluids were filling her, and she could feel the hot semen seeping from the lips of her sex and down her thighs. He grunted a last time, the blast ended, and he pulled himself free with a soft suck.

They had been making love on his coat, and Zeinara collapsed on it, glaring at him. "How . . . could you?" she panted, breasts riding with her gasps. Her golden mane tumbled prettily in fierce, slanted eyes.

The fox knelt over her and smiled, absently rubbing his soft penis as he looked at her curvy body. "You can't get pregnant from me --"

"How do you know!" Zeinara demanded angrily. She was shaking, she was so furious. But the fox's eyes softened. He stretched out beside her, leaning on his elbow as his worried eyes danced over her. She was flustered when he touched her face and she shied from his touch.

"Don't," she muttered bitterly.

The fox smiled. "You are a dog-fox. I am a fox," he said, waving a paw. "Perhaps if I still had some of my godly powers it could have happened. But I'm mortal. And so long as you have a drop of dog blood in your veins, it won't."

Zeinara looked at his face and thought he seemed to be telling the truth. He pulled a cloth from his nearby pack and started wiping her sex clean. She lay still and allowed him, trying to ignore the pleasurable touch of his careful fingers when they caressed her clit. He had been very good at that. And somehow, it made her more bitter.

"I can do it myself," Zeinara complained, and he laughed when she snatched the cloth from him. But then he watched as she was cleaning herself, and she realized it was really no better than letting him.

"I could lick you clean," he whispered. "You liked it when I licked your pussy."

"No, thank you!" Zeinara shrilled.

He laughed at her embarrassment. "You came to me so confident and strong. But breaking the most tender part of you has made you tender."

"No, it hasn't!" Zeinara said at once. "And shut up!"

The fox laughed again. "As you wish."

But Zeinara couldn't stand the silence. He simply lay there watching her as she dressed, and it was unbearable. "Why did you kill her?" she asked to break the tension of his stare. "Your mother." Now fully dressed, she was lacing her boots and didn't look up from them as a loose strand of her golden mane tumbled forward in her face. She was almost afraid of what he might say. She pushed her mane back in a low bun and smoothed it as she waited for an answer.

The fox was silent for a moment, then he cast his eyes down and answered, "A long time ago, the god Ti'uu fell in love with a mortal. He saw her gentle spirit as he looked at Aonre through Skkye's waters, and he fell in love with her compassion and kindness. He offered her a place in S'pru, made her a goddess, and brought her to Skkye. They had me."

"Lucky them," Zeinara muttered sarcastically.

"The goddess Ayni," the fox went on, "grew envious. She struck Mohaua with a curse that made her transform into a monstrous beast of fire and rage. The beast ran unchecked through Aonre, burning and devouring. Ayni came to me with Skkye Glass . . ."

"And convinced you to kill your own mother," Zeinara said, horrified. She was still smoothing her bun and paused to stare at him incredulously.

"And I did," the fox said heavily, "never knowing it was she until her body lay broken and bloody at my feet. Ti'uu didn't believe me. He cast me down. The other gods said it was a travesty that Ti'uu had loved a mortal in the first place. After that, such things were forbidden."

Zeinara touched his face in sympathy. "What is your name?"

"That doesn't matter."

"It matters to me."

The fox gently removed her paw and sat up. Zeinara hugged her knees, and it was her turn to watch him dress.

"Why did you wait for me here?" Zeinara wondered when he was at last fully dressed. She shouldered her rifle and pulled on her cloak with a flourish.

The fox was pulling on his pack and taking up his stave. Zeinara eyed him curiously as he gathered the pelt reverently and carefully. He laid it gently across Zeinara's waiting paws and smiled at her over it.

"To fuck you, of course," he said and vanished.