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Yellow Flower

Chapter 17

Nkwe thought Captain Franklin was too young to be a captain. While it was possible that the mastiff just looked younger than he actually was, Nkwe doubted it. He was very shy and uncertain and seemed very inexperienced for a mastiff of Wychowl's elite royal guard. Nkwe found that flabbergasting. As he understood it, mastiffs underwent an extensive training that could take close to thirty years, and thus, earned them a great deal of experience, if not confidence. It took twenty years for them to graduate from the academy, and perhaps another ten working in various provinces before they even served in Wychowl. It was one of the few dog practices Nkwe grudgingly admired, because it allowed for young inexperienced mastiffs to become older, wiser, and more experienced before taking up the honor of guarding the high king of the world. It was an honor the mastiffs earned through years of diligence and devotion and was not unlike earning the position of royal guard to the royal bloodline of a fox tribe.

Nkwe's royal guardian had been a female named Sinia. She was tall, robust, strong, and relentless. She'd had something of a crush on Nkwe, though he never reciprocated, and over the years, rumors spread that she and Nkwe were having an affair. Nothing of the sort was happening, of course, but the rumors persisted. One day she died protecting Nkwe from capture by another tribe, and a new rumor emerged that he wept bitterly for his "pregnant lover" as the tribe lay her to rest.

Nkwe felt the same thing was happening all over again with Natasha Collins, a female mastiff who had accompanied Nkwe and the others in their search for Zeinara, Robin, and Mogethis. To Nkwe's surprise, Natasha was not an assistant or a servant to the other three mastiffs: Natasha was a soldier freshly graduated from the academy. It was surprising because female mastiffs were not permitted to enroll in the academy in the first place. The other mastiffs at Wychowl seemed to resent Natasha for "violating" what was once an honor reserved only for males, but she was proud and fearless and went toe-to-toe with any male who challenged her right to serve Etienne.

It was because of Etienne that Natasha had been allowed to enroll. She was a fine example of yet one of many tradition-breaking reforms Etienne had orchestrated in the last twenty years. And while Nkwe admired Etienne's desire to change the world for the better, he worried for the king's safety and what inheriting a world in the midst of evolving social norms could do to Zeinara's reign. Nkwe had lived a long time, after all. He had seen social upheaval before, and it was never pretty. In fact, there was always blood. That was the price of change. What blood price Etienne and Zeinara would pay, he shuddered to think.

The other mastiffs seemed convinced that Natasha and Nkwe were having sex, though Nkwe knew nothing of the sort was happening and resented their teasing deeply. As if he would stoop to having sex with a dog creature! And yet, though Nkwe remained cold and aloof in the beginning, he was finding that he actually liked his dog companions. He would laugh with them in the evenings around the fire, tell them stories, listen to theirs, and even wound up singing with them on occasion. And he hated himself for it.

Aside from Captain Franklin and Natasha Collins, the remaining two mastiffs in the party were Chase Richards and Guss Hoddle. Both weird dog names, Nkwe thought. But then, all dogs had weird names. And they always had two, sometimes five.

Chase Richards defined the word "lazy." How one such as he had graduated the rigorous academy was beyond Nkwe. According to Chase, the other mastiffs called him "Richie Richards" because he came from a very wealthy family. He was the youngest of nine sons, stood to inherit zero responsibility, and thus, instead of developing a skill or a good reputation, he spent all his time drinking, sleeping, and sleeping with anything that moved. Fed up, Chase's father told him to enroll in the academy or leave Varimore for the unknown, as no son of his was going to embarrass him. Chase chose the academy over the unknown. He graduated with honors and was now the pride of his extensively wealthy family. He was an incredibly handsome young mastiff with a long almost-blonde mane pulled back in a tail, and he flirted with Natasha shamelessly, despite the fact that she rebuffed him.

Guss Hoddle was as weird as his name, full of life, and full of energy. He was not handsome. Nor was he witty. If anything, he was a bit stupid, but Nkwe thought he was downright fun. He was short for a mastiff but tough, toned with muscles but sort of thin. He preferred his crossbow to his sword, and how he ever hit his mark while bouncing around was a mystery for the ages. His dark brown mane was always a mess, and he was always chewing on something, be it a cigar, a twig, or a bone. He fancied himself a splendid cook and put ingredients into their meals that were absolutely horrifying. Some of the plants in CrinningtonForest were actually lethal, and having the most experience with said plants, Nkwe took it upon himself to prepare their meals for the duration of their journey. Lest Guss accidentally poison them all.

Natasha would always lean over Nkwe as he was cooking, letting the heavenly scent of her mane brush him. Why she liked him and insisted on pursuing him was beyond him. If she had any sense, she would be afraid of him. All dogs feared and coveted magic, but Natasha . . . Natasha was in awe of it.

Like Guss, Natasha was a bit stupid, but she was sweet. She was kind. And she was fierce. During one of their earliest days of travel, they were set upon by a vicious bear, and Nkwe was surprised when Natasha and shy Captain Franklin were the first to leap forward. They slashed and roared and charged in like fools, and the other two fools followed suit, and despite all their bravado, Nkwe knew if he hadn't been there, a bear would have had four mastiff snacks that afternoon. After the attack, Guss insisted on skinning the bear so they could "make a tent out of her," and Captain Franklin helped him. Natasha turned to Nkwe, breathless, her breasts riding behind her breastplate, and grinned goofily at him. She was in awe of his magic. She had never seen magic before, and her pale green eyes were round with wonder.

But Natasha's eyes always seemed to be round with wonder when she was looking at Nkwe. Nkwe wished she wouldn't stare at him. She was so pretty that when he caught her staring, it was hard to look away. Her mane was tawny, thick and curly, and fell long and wild around her shoulders. Her lashes were long. Her nose was pink and made him think of the pink sex hidden away in her tight trousers. She was dressed like any mastiff of the royal elite, only her armor seemed to accentuate her curves: a breastplate and jacket bearing the roaring lion of Wychowl, tight pants, boots, and a helm to match the breastplate.

Sometimes they bathed in the river, and Natasha would take off her pants right in front of the others and wade into the water. She was of the naïve mindset that the other mastiffs were her brothers and did not view her sexually, though Nkwe thought it was hard to do anything else. The first time she undressed, Nkwe was too stunned to move. It had been too long since he had seen a female's naked body, and when she bent over in front of him (glancing at him flirtatiously over her shoulder), the sight of her sex pressing between her thighs almost made him stand. After that, he took to bathing several feet away from the others, something they teased him for mercilessly in the following days.

Nkwe found it flabbergasting that a dog could be pretty. But not too flabbergasting. There were some dogs he had raped during village raids, young bitches possessing such curves and softness and sweet smells under their dresses as he had never imagined. Every time he looked at Natasha, he saw his victims, and he had to turn away. The more time he spent with her, the more he withdrew into himself.

Chase seemed to take Nkwe's withdrawal as a confirmation that he had a crush on Natasha and wouldn't let up about it. Neither would Guss, who kept elbowing Nkwe and urging him to talk to the female. Captain Franklin was a godsend in those days, as he always changed the subject or else told he others to leave Nkwe alone altogether.

Captain Franklin seemed to admire Nkwe the way a boy admired his father, and Nkwe couldn't decide whether or not be irritated by the fact. The captain would drill Nkwe for stories about his life, the battles he had fought, the enemies he had defeated, and he would listen to Nkwe's carefully weaved lies, staring and enrapt. Nkwe always told the captain what were only half-truths, as telling the whole truth would mean admitting to rape, flat-out murder, and thievery. He always shaped his stories in such a way that portrayed him as a defender of his kind. It was a prospective he had used to justify his crimes when he was young. Now that he was older, he knew there was no justification whatsoever.

One night, the captain confessed that he envied Nkwe's life, the freedom to live as he pleased, do as he pleased, face fire and steel and survive. But Nkwe assured Captain Franklin that he should not envy him. Nkwe hadn't spent his life traveling and fighting and stealing because he was free. No. Oppression came in many guises. Living in fear in the forest, that was just another guise.

Captain Franklin was another doting admirer that Nkwe couldn't quite shake. And if he admitted it to himself, he actually liked the captain as well, if not solely given the reason that Franklin seemed to despise Etienne as greatly as Nkwe did. The captain was often given to complaining quite bitterly about Etienne's competence - or lack thereof - as king, and each time he spoke of Etienne, there was an unmistakable sneer on his otherwise perpetually cheerful face. Oh yes. Captain Franklin and Nkwe got along just fine.

But the fact that the captain could view him as a hero was to Nkwe at once irritating and depressing. And no matter how many times Nkwe assured the captain he had taken more lives than saved, the captain assured him he had only been protecting his own, defending his kind. And there was no shame in that.

Nkwe sometimes wondered what the mastiffs would think if they knew the truth of his life, if they knew he was actually a murderer and a thief who had been living solely because of the mercy of one dog who pitied him. He found it sadly ironic that Kesuk, who had lived his life honorably and nobly, now lay in Wychowl's cemetery with flowers over his grave, whilst he, the rapist and murderer, walked free. Somehow, life always seemed sadly ironic in that regard.

One evening after supper, they were sitting around the fire when Captain Franklin asked Nkwe why Etienne had chosen CrinningtonForest for them to search. Nkwe was half a second from correcting the captain with Celankobi before he stopped himself. He stared at the fire and asked himself why it even mattered. Even if the forest had belonged to foxes once, they were gone from the place now. The forest had stood empty for more than forty years. It was Celankobi no more.

"Statney Grove would have made more sense," Chase added. "But his majesty sends us way the hell out here? And for all we know, your sister isn't working alone. We could be sitting ducks here."

Nkwe dropped his eyes to the fire and said nothing, letting his hood fall forward to hide his face. He knew Mogethis was working alone, not because he knew anything about what she was doing, but because he knew Mogethis. The whole reason Mogethis had been captured by the Kingsleys twenty years before was because she insisted on working alone. She was always trying to protect Nkwe and their siblings. She was always trying to protect the tribe. The day they planned to finally invade Howlester, she went into the village to scout and insisted on going alone. Apparently, she was caught drinking milk from a bucket that'd been left in some dog's yard. The dog raised the alarm, and Mogethis was chased all the way back to the forest. Nkwe shook his head bitterly to think of it: all of that . . . for milk.

"Hey," Guss said, picking his fangs with a bone. "Crinnington is near Robin's home. Maybe the king thought Robin would come back here. Also, lots of fox shrines and ruins in these forests. Makes sense. Kinda." He threw the bone on the fire.

"You're from 'round these parts, aren't you, Guss?" Captain Franklin said, as if recalling.

"That's right, Captain," Guss said with a grin. But his face darkened. "I was there when the foxes attacked Sudbury. Took the whole bloody town." He frowned at the fire and shook his head. "Varimore has seen so much . . . sadness. I hope things get better for her."

Natasha glanced at Nkwe. "But Nkwe would know why the king would send us here. Wouldn't you, Nicky? Has to be more to it than that."

Nkwe frowned at the fire as everyone stared at him. They were always trying to get answers out him, answers he didn't even have. He wanted to go to bed. He hated being in Celankobi. The trees reminded him of how his tribe had charged into the village, burning and killing as they went, their fur aflame with Yfel's magic and madness. Nkwe remembered cutting down a frightened bitch who was clutching her pup simply because she was in his way. She wasn't fast enough, and he could think of nothing but saving Mogethis. He tossed her wailing pup aside like an empty sack and ran her through the middle as the pup lay dead. When she fell, he stepped over her staring body and kept going. He never looked back.

Now here Nkwe was, back in Celankobi, chasing after Mogethis yet again. It suddenly seemed as if he had spent his entire life chasing her, trying to go where she went, trying to stay paw-in-paw, brother and sister facing the ages together. There was safety in that. A lover could leave and find another. But a sister was always a sister, bound in blood. And Nkwe knew his sister would never stop loving him.

Nkwe pushed the memories away. "This is the forest where the king first met my sister," he said heavily. He saw the mastiffs' ears prick forward as they regarded him in surprise. "She was being hunted," Nkwe went on. "She had already been shot with a tranquilizer. She told me she was so dizzy and confused that when she saw the king standing there in furs and skins, she thought he was a fox and ran to him. Etienne protected my sister from the hunters, and that is how they came to know each other."

"That's so . . . romantic," sighed Natasha.

"Except it wasn't," Nkwe said flatly and his blue eyes glittered irritably. There had been a rumor circling for years that Etienne was actually in love with Mogethis, and their supposed love affair was the reason he trusted her and Nkwe with his daughter's life. Some even went so far as to believe Mogethis was actually Zeinara's mother.

"Etienne believes Mogethis came here looking for a shrine," Nkwe continued, his eyes on his bowl. "I told him he was wrong, and so far, it would appear that he is wrong, as there has been no trace of my sister or Robin. . . . or Zeinara."

Chase shook his head. "But it doesn't make sense. There are plenty of shrines in Statney Grove. Unless there's something you're not telling us." He looked at Nkwe skeptically.

Nkwe resisted the urge to glare. Of all the mastiffs, Chase was the only one who suspected him and carefully questioned his every word. Surprising, really. Nkwe had expected all_the mastiffs to suspect him. Chase was the only one practical enough to put caution above all else, and Nkwe respected that, even if he _was irritated by it.

What do you want from me? Etienne sent us here because he's an idiot, Nkwe thought. "Etienne sent us here because Mogethis and I are not familiar with Statney," Nkwe said. "We are familiar with this place. We lived here for a time." As we were raiding your villages and raping your bitches.

"And you really have no idea why she would kidnap Robin?" Chase pressed.

"None," Nkwe said, not looking at anyone. Only he did have an idea. He and Mogethis had known for years that Robin was Yfel's child. How could they not? They were also well aware that the princess of Poston had been blessed of Yfel. It was the reason they read Zeinara's letters. It was the reason Nkwe insisted on avoiding the ball while Mogethis insisted on going. Mogethis was still loyal to Yfel. In her heart, she was still a priestess, still secretly praying and worshipping, and ready always at a moment's notice to kill dogs in the name of her goddess. But Nkwe had left that life a long time ago and wanted nothing more to do with it. If Mogethis was following Yfel's orders now, he could only imagine what was in store. She of Madness was anything but predictable.

"Sure," Chase said sarcastically and poked the fire with a stick.

"Lay off Nicky," Natasha said irritably. Her brow creased in a scowl over her pale green eyes. "He said he doesn't know anything!"

Chase glanced at Natasha apologetically. "Nattie, I j-just --"

"Zeinara is missing!" Natasha growled. "Don't you understand? The princess is like a _daughter_to him!"

Chase dropped his eyes and tossed a twig on the fire. Of course, Nkwe didn't expect him to apologize. Chase "Richie" Richards never apologize for anything. Chase avoided looking at Nkwe and glanced at the captain. "Shall we cast lots, sir?"

"Why? Everything hurts. I'm not keeping watch," was the captain's response.

Chase laughed.

Nkwe gathered their bowls as the others gathered close, laying out the blades of grass that would decide who took first watch.

"Looks like I drew the short straw," Chase said bitterly.

Guss hooted. "And I've the second shortest!"

"Why are you happy, idiot?" Chase demanded. "That means you have first watch with me."

". . . oh," Guss muttered.

Natasha snorted with laughter.

Chase and Guss took up their rifles and began pacing the perimeter of the camp. As usual, Guss walked with energy in his stride, but Chase walked slowly and lazily, striking a match with a loose wrist and lighting the cigar in his teeth.

Every now and then, Chase glared at Nkwe and Natasha, who were sitting side by side at the fire. Nkwe coldly ignored Chase and examined his walking stick. He knew all of Chase's teasing and taunting amounted to jealousy. Chase wanted Natasha, and not just because she was pretty. Chase genuinely seemed to like her. And Chase was likely decent enough that he would have stepped aside for another mastiff if that was Natasha's choice. But Natasha had chosen a fox. It went against dog dogma, as loving a fox was considered the same thing as loving a mule, and in the eyes of the dogs, it basically amounted to _"_bad breeding" to choose a mate outside of ones breed.

Nkwe found it stupid of the dogs, to be honest. While he agreed that dogs and foxes should not be together, at least it was something that made sense within his culture and religion. For the dogs, it didn't make _sense_for them to turn their noses up at mating with foxes. The dogs worshipped Nadheertia - a fox - as a saint and martyr. The dogs believed that it was their Creator's ultimate plan to merge dog and fox, and thus, Zeinara's pedigree was viewed as something of a holy miracle by the nine kingdoms. And yet . . . they still hunted foxes. They still raped and skinned foxes. But falling in love with them? Oh no. That was a mortal sin.

In reality, the taboo existed because dogs wished to maintain control of the world. Falling in love with foxes, mating with them, and marrying them meant bringing down all the barriers that kept dogs dominate and foxes oppressed. So the dogs pretended they were sorry by worshipping Nadheertia and crying for her loss. The dogs pretended it was necessary to hunt and skin foxes because they were such a "threat" to the world. The dogs preached that one day, the foxes would return to the purity of Nadheertia, but until that day came, they were savages and a menace.

The dogs lied to themselves. Because power was preferable to equality.

"Best get some sleep," Captain Franklin said, "so we can get up nice and early and wander aimlessly." He was sitting across the fire from Nkwe and Natasha and was reloading his rifle.

Natasha smiled. "Don't worry, Captain," she said, always the optimist. "We'll find Robin and the princess. I'd wager my house on it."

Captain Franklin snorted. "You don't have a house, Collins."

Natasha grinned.

The captain's eyes slid to Natasha and he smiled at her as he continued fumbling with his rifle. He finished reloading, and he looked so young in the firelight, Nkwe found it a tad disturbing to see him with a weapon. It was like seeing a child with a bloody butcher knife. The captain's mane was pale and his eyes the palest blue and he had a tiny wisp of pale fur on his chin, as if he'd grown the extra face fur to look more mature. But it only made him look like a teenage boy who was trying to look cool. He was so small and slender for a mastiff, Nkwe half-suspected "bad breeding" on his part. As in, one of Franklin's parents hadn't been a mastiff but likely what the dogs called "lapdogs."

Lapdogs were especially bred for pleasure and were, essentially, the whores of the dog lands. They were very small and very beautiful, and nine times out of ten, could be found in brothels and bathhouses, sitting on the laps (and penises) of the rich and the horny. They were essentially very expensive whores. If Captain Franklin was secretly half-lapdog, it would make sense for him to win a promotion in exchange for . . . certain favors. Because of their beauty and certain skills, lapdogs were widely desired by the other dogs, while often treated like pets in whorehouses and made to crawl on leashes. If someone at the academy suspected that Franklin was half-lapdog, they could have easily blackmailed him into their personal pet. . . . and given him a promotion to silence him.

Nkwe was aware that Mogethis had been to brothels and had taken many female lapdogs to bed. But he could not bring himself to lay with creatures he had raped and assaulted numerous times. At night . . . he still saw their faces. He still heard their screams.

Of course, foxes had their own version of the lapdogs. They were called fennecs and lived mostly in the desert lands, where the Sloughi dogs warred upon each other and plotted against the world. It was said the Sloughi enslaved the fennecs, hunting them for sex toys across the desert wasteland. Many fennecs were bred and raised in brothels, small and beautiful, with large ears and large eyes and small sharp breasts. According to the stories, the kings of the desert lands had entire harems of fennecs that strutted about in translucent skirts, with gold anklets on their dainty ankles and tassels on their nipples.

Some fennecs escaped the arid world into the nine kingdoms, only to discover that foxes had it no better there. One such fennec escaped to Poston and was found by Nkwe's tribe. Nkwe remembered she was very beautiful and very angry, as she had expected to be helped by her own, not captured by them_._ But the Children of Yfel captured her, and it was Nkwe's parents' intention that he should marry the girl.

Nkwe's father was called Humai. He was a very old, very strict male who had been captured from one of Kutre's tribes when he was a child in order to marry Kabira, Nkwe's mother. Like many belonging to Kutre, Humai's fur had been completely white, but beautiful and proud Kabira had been red as fire, fierce, savage, and wild. Her curly red mane blazed when she stood in the sun, and she had been a warrior princess a very long time before she was set to marry Humai, which meant she was even older than her husband.

Both parents were very firm and very strict with their children, and they encouraged their children to do exactly what they told them, even at the risk of angering the gods. Kabira had a very precise idea of what sort of sons she wanted, and she did not want Nkwe to become a priest of Yfel. She wanted her son to be a warrior, proud and strong, like her. Humai, who was magically gifted himself, protested that Nkwe should become a great sorcerer. But regardless of their differing opinions, it was both parents' desire that Nkwe should carry on the royal bloodline, and before Yeneneshe was born, everyone agreed with them.

So Nkwe was set to marry the fennec girl, whose name was Tataliti. He married her in an elaborate ceremony under the stars, with tribal paint on his face and feathers in his mane. Many tribes of Yfel gathered in the ruins of a temple deep in the forests of Poston, and they watched as Nkwe swore before Yfel's altar that he would love and protect his bride. Tataliti was stiff and angry as Nkwe leaned forward to kiss her on the cheek. And she remained stiff and angry throughout the feast, watching with tight lips as the tribes danced and sang and beat drums around the fire. Little cubs came forward and gave her flowers or tossed flower petals in her mane, and Nkwe could tell she wanted to go on being angry, but a smile was tugging at the corners of her lips.

After the feast, Nkwe did as was customary with a captured bride: he led her down into his family's home, tied her wrists to a hook above her head, and started stripping her clothing. She stood there, naked and afraid, not understanding what was happening when Nkwe's seven brothers entered the room behind him.

Nkwe's brothers were like him: handsome, serious, and hard-bodied. Thapeli might have been his twin if not for his white fur. They entered the room with their penises hard under their deerskin skirts, and their rippling chests were bare in the soft firelight, their muscles curved with shadows, their thighs flexing. Long manes and fierce slanted eyes, all. Tataliti was about to be taken by the most desirable males in the clan, and she trembled as they came.

Nkwe stepped back, and he watched as his brothers moved in on the girl. Her eyes darted as they surrounded her, and then she was gasping helplessly as they started groping and sucking, fingering and licking. She was so small and delicate, gold as the desert sand, with a long golden mane that fell to her backside, a fluffy golden tail, and small, plump breasts that stood high. Her sex was pink in the nest of her golden fur, and Nkwe could see the lips swelling as his brothers fingered her and stroked her fat clit. They squeezed and massaged her breasts, then squeezed and sucked them. They licked her trembling belly, got on their knees to lick between her thighs, came up behind her and fingered the tight anus under her tail. And as she was kissed, groped, and caressed, she sagged in her ropes and her head fell back. Her breasts heaved in their paws, and when the moisture started down her thighs, the delicious scent of her filled the room, and lust glinted in the eyes of the brothers.

Nkwe leaned against the wall and watched with his arms folded, knowing that as a sex slave, Tataliti had likely endured such a thing before. When it was over, Tataliti was sagging against her binds and her bead was bowed, so that her long golden mane fell forward to hide her like a veil. She was covered in glossy cum, and Nkwe could hear her soft, helpless panting as his brothers turned from the room and quietly left.

Nkwe untied Tataliti, gathered her small body in his arms, and bathed her in the waiting basin. She was quiet as he bathed her and seemed . . . confused. He didn't blame her. She had likely expected that he would sleep with her on their wedding night - not his seven brothers!

The ritual was meant to keep Nkwe's brothers from jealousy. Some centuries ago, a tribe elder decided that to keep his sons from fighting over a female, he would allow them all to take her. Then the girl would marry the prince she had been given to, without the fear of jealousy and bickering among the princes. Of course, the very idea was stupid in that it caused a bride who wouldn't have cheated before to fall in love with her brother's husband (or vice versa) and thus, there was discontent regardless. But the ritual became something of a tradition. And anytime a stolen female was introduced to a clan with more than one prince, all the princes were allowed to take her. But it only happened with stolen females, further showcasing another glaring fault in the logic.

Nkwe could tell Tataliti wanted to ask why it had happened, but she resented him, everyone, and everything too deeply to deign to. She just sat in the water, her head bowed, allowing him to bathe her. When he had finished, he helped her get dressed - not in her wedding dress, but in fur pants, boots, and a coat. She looked at him with large hazel eyes, not understanding.

"I'm giving you a chance," Nkwe whispered as he buttoned her coat, "to leave here. You would have been safe with me. But . . ." He frowned sadly. "You wouldn't have been happy. And sometimes, being happy is more important."

Tataliti looked at him in amazement. But Nkwe could tell she wasn't certain she believed him. Maybe he was just toying with her. Maybe he would take her to bed, rip her clothes off, and have his way with her, laughing the whole time at her naivety.

But Nkwe wasn't toying with Tataliti. In the dead of the night, he led her from the burrow with a pack and a walking stick, gave the items to her, and told her to run. He would say she had escaped him as he was sleeping, that he had tracked her down and killed her. They would not come looking for her.

Tataliti still couldn't believe it, only now her disbelief came of joy. Startling Nkwe, she threw her arms around him and kissed him on the cheek. He felt his face getting hot.

"Th-Thank you, Neekee!" she whispered in her purring desert accent.

"Neekway," he corrected with a soft laugh.

"Nicky?" Natasha said, dragging present-day Nkwe from his thoughts.

Nkwe blinked the memories away, and glancing around, he realized he and Natasha were alone at the fire. Captain Franklin had retired to his bedroll and was sleeping soundly. The others were still patrolling the camp. Nkwe could smell Chase's cigar.

"Nicky?" Natasha repeated.

"Neekway," Nkwe corrected. Tataliti hadn't been able to say his name and neither could Natasha, who wound up calling him Nicky most of the time. Though he had to admit, he sort of liked it. "What is it, Nattie?" He went back to examining his walking stick, which was actually his stave - the same stave Mogethis left behind the night she disappeared with Robin.

Natasha smiled to hear him call her Nattie. "You've told me about magic and that you were a sort of priest with your tribe. Does that mean . . .? I mean . . ." She glanced at him awkwardly and shyly, and he smiled behind his hood when he realized what she was asking.

"Was I never married?" Nkwe supplied for her.

Natasha looked at the fire, letting her tawny mane fall forward to hide the side of her face. He could see her long lashes protruding around it. "Yes. I mean, if you weren't married, what a waste."

Nkwe laughed - then blinked and stopped short. It was odd and distressing, hearing his own laughter. And he realized it was because he'd rarely heard it in twenty years. Natasha made him happy, and it confused him.

"My siblings use to joke that I was married to my sister," Nkwe said, smiling at the fire. "I wanted to be with her always. So when she became a priestess, I followed her, and they named me a priest."

Natasha shook her head in amazement. "And you never wanted . . .? I find it hard to believe that a male could never want . . ."

Nkwe frowned sadly, glad that his hood was hiding his face from her. Of course he had wanted. But there were many ways besides marriage to have sex. He closed his eyes against the sudden images: dogs with their skirts lifted as he raped them, blood on their faces where he had cut them to submission, tears in their eyes. He'd spent all his life raping and taking, too afraid to let someone choose to have sex with him, because he believed that if he allowed himself to love . . . some dog would just take his love away. Tataliti thought he'd let her go out of the kindness of his heart. But a lot of it had to do with fear. And then there was Taiga. And for a moment in time, he wasn't afraid.

"I-I have wanted . . . I've thought about . . . sometimes with y-you . . ." Natasha stammered.

Nkwe glanced at Natasha, and it suddenly occurred to him that she was a virgin and was trying to discover if he was as well. He looked away. Oh god.

Natasha put her paw on Nkwe's knee and looked at him with soft eyes. "I know you think of it too," she whispered. "It's in your eyes when you look at me. I can't decide if you just want me or . . . or if it could be more."

Nkwe frowned and gently removed her paw from his knee. Her eyes saddened when he rose to his feet. But he couldn't believe it when he felt her paw snatch his clothes, and then she had yanked him down again. He looked at her in amazement, and she looked back at him unapologetically, streams of her mane falling across adamant eyes. She was fierce and strong and beautiful. She reminded him of his mother. And . . . Taiga. But he also knew she was as tender as she was strong. With her tawny mane and pale green eyes, he often thought of her as his yellow flower.

"Nattie . . ." Nkwe whispered in protest, and he glanced at Chase, who was watching them bitterly from the edge of the camp.

Natasha ignored Chase, her eyes fixed intently on Nkwe. Her gaze softened again. "Tell me you care."

Nkwe swallowed hard. "Yes," he admitted in a whisper. "I care."

Natasha's lashes fluttered.

Nkwe shook his head. "But now is not the time nor --"

"Shut up, Nicky!" Natasha hissed and kissed him full on the mouth.

And it was such a sweet, such a tender kiss, that Nkwe knew his heart had been lost. He dropped his forehead against Natasha's and closed his eyes.

"You deserve better," Nkwe whispered grimly.

Natasha scowled. "Are you my father that you know what I deserve?"

Nkwe pulled back and glared at the fire. "You have no idea who I really am, Nattie."

Natasha frowned sadly and reached for his face. "So tell me."

Nkwe shied from her touch. "No," he said simply and took up his staff. He rose from the fire, and without looking back, went to his bedroll. He could hear Natasha going to her own bedroll and was afraid to look at her. Was she angry? Hurt? Sad? He didn't want to see. It would only crumble his resolve, and he must be firm. He should be focusing on finding Mogethis and Zeinara. Because somehow, he knew Robin was already lost to them.

Nkwe unrolled his bedroll and paused to see the yellow petals sprinkled across his sheets. He glanced over his shoulder at Natasha, who was in her bedroll already, leaning on her elbow as she watched him. She looked beautiful beside the firelight, her curves apparent under the sheets, all that tawny hair falling around her intense eyes. She lifted a yellow flower to her nose and slowly smiled.