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Book One: Asuragiari

Scroll III

Written by Arian Mabe (Amethyst Mare)

Beyond Edith's knowledge was a young Canaan dog on the upper floor of a suitably deserted home, which peered down into the gathering place like an all-seeing eye. She growled wantonly, one eye above the window ledge, and flattened her ears to her skull, lest she be spotted by a citizen glancing above the erotic foray. It would be her usual bad fortune. The canine panted heavily and whined, desperate to sate the ache between her thighs, which burned like a cold flame. Something strange had happened between her thighs, something she had never before experienced. The chubby Canaan dog was wet beneath her dress.

"Oh..." Pheine moaned, pressing down upon her crotch through the too-thick fabric.

There were no words for what she was experiencing, spying on her mother and so many other furs furiously mating, enjoyably so. Even in her home city, Pheine had never seen such a large group of furs openly engaging in true revelry. Any kind of celebration that she had experienced had been a religious, moral, revering affair - drastically different from the dissonance of moans and sweaty, grinding bodies. It was no contest as to which she preferred. She shivered and tugged her dress up, ignoring the nip of cooling evening air. Amongst the perpetually shifting bodies, she spied her mother again, this time with a camel kneeling at her rear. Transfixed, Pheine watched closely as the camel slid into her mother's sex, drooling great globules of seed, remnants of other males. The camel tossed his head back in what could only have been a tremendous groan of pleasure, thrusting into the canine with enough force to rock her whole body. Pheine's fingers touched the wetness between her thighs and gasped.

In the mess of furs, Edith took an ibex' member between her lips and pumped her paw along the part of the shaft that she could not reach. Hidden, Pheine dug her teeth delicately into her bottom lip, vainly self-conscious about breaking the skin, and rubbed one finger over her dripping folds. It was new, entirely so. She had never had cause to touch herself there besides during bathing, but that was different. It felt good, there was no other known word for the sensation, though the inexperienced Canaan dog thought that it could not possibly be so simplistic.

She covered her muzzle with a paw in an effort to quell her moans, cheek pressed to the cool stone below the bare square of window, as one fingertip circled a sensitive nub. A burning need seared through Pheine's veins and suddenly something_more was required, though she could not discern _what. She arched her back and bucked her hips, imagining being mated by an invisible partner, a strong, protective Canaan dog, paws on her hips, filling her passage over and over again until she was surely carrying his pups. The thought made Pheine tremble and she rubbed that sensitive spot of flesh harder, sexual juices soaking into her loin cloth and matting the fur on her upper thighs.

Pleasure ricocheted through the canine and she collapsed to the floor, a cushion, knocked aside by an arm flung sideways, crushed into the small of her back. She cried out passionately, her desire to be quiet forgotten, and trembled bodily, paw jammed against her sex, sticky from her feminine moisture. This was it - this was what her body craved! A small smile fluttered over her parted lips as she panted open-mouthed, struggling to regain composure and control of her body while electric sparks assaulted her senses. Logic leaped forth at the most inconvenient of times, demanding attention with a snap and a snarl. If she could feel this good mating with another fur...how could it ever be sinful? How could touching herself in that forbidden, dirty area be sinful? They had been wrong.

She sighed, satisfied in body, and lay back, dragging out the offending cushion and hugging it tightly to her bust, muzzle buried in the silken fabric. A warm glow spread through her body as if she was sitting close to an open flame upon a cold evening, but the flames were dancing inside instead of outside, warming her from within. She would rest, regain her strength, just for a little while. Eyelids drooping, Pheine forced them open wide, withdrawing her damp paw from between her thighs and marvelling at the amount of sexual fluids she had produced. All her own! It was difficult to comprehend, everything so very new. But she was tired, drained after the pleasurable ordeal. She rested her head on the ground, a woven rug comforting her acquaintance with some strange fur's reception floor. She would rest a while.

Just for a little while.

*

Lot paced the bedroom, steps heaving in the night time quiet. He could hear his daughters speaking in hushed voices on the other side of the wall but no longer had the energy to quell their female chatter. Let them be. The sleeping area was a mess of blankets and the night clothes that the canine wore did little to relinquish the grasp of night's chill, scratching his nose in spite. The woven blankets could have provided him with warmth and perhaps comfort but Lot found it distasteful to lie where his wife had lain, considering. And where was she now?

"What of my wife?" He murmured, glancing out the window to the star strewn sky, their beauty silenced. Reassurance could only come from within, so the canine paced some more, hind paws catching in the blankets. He kicked them aside, muscles stiff and juddering.

"I could not have ventured out to save Raguel. I would not have been able to offer further assistance, if that had been the Lord's will. No, I ensured the safety of my friend. My wife has done honourably by her family, undertaking the only deed that could have saved Raguel and saved me."

"Excuse me," a small voice beckoned from the doorway, interrupting.

Lot half-turned, disinterested in the small Corsac fox. One of the few handmaids at the inn, Lot had witnessed her scurrying from room to room with armfuls of linen, pale brown hind paws tip-tapping as if she always had somewhere to be. A smattering of grey fur graced the back of her neck and the remainder of her coat was a soft, off-white shade with a luxuriously fluffy finish that he suspected would be pleasing to the touch like a newborn pup's downy fur.

"Yes?" He questioned when she did not speak, eyes wide and round. "Who are you? What do you want?"

She gulped and swept her fluffy tail against her legs; a gold-coloured anklet knocked lightly against her left ankle, though her hind paws were bare.

"Your wife..." She began, backtracking after a moment. "I apologise for my rudeness. I am Esther, a servant of the inn. I came to deliver information concerning your wife."

"Yes?" He would have pounced if it had been seemly to do so, tail twitching feverishly. "Where is she? What has happened? Is my wife in sin?"

The fox, Esther, shook her head patiently, answering none of his pointed questions, ears slanting back in open sympathy.

"Your wife is safe and well," she said simply. "You should sleep now and regain your strength for the morn. It is for the best that you do so."

"Yes, yes..." Lot murmured. The fog of stress mingled with exhaustion clouded his sense, his good mind. "Yes, I should sleep. My wife will return tomorrow, I know... She will return. My wife."

Esther shivered, fur bristling, and rested her small paw delicately on Lot's arm, guiding him to the rumpled sleeping mats as if directing an obstinate child. He pulled away and collapsed on to the blankets, rolling over on to his back so that his belly bulged obstinately against the loose night clothes. Esther sighed breathily, studying him for a moment. He was lost to the waking world in seconds. Tugging the blankets up and over him, she felt beneath the coarse cloth to ensure his warmth, paw lingering over his thigh. Her cheeks flushed and she adjusted the blankets with a professional paw, though only when he snored lightly did she slip from the room, amber eyes molten with secrets suppressed.

She could not inform him of what he did not wish to hear.

*

Lot expected his wife to knock on the inn door at the crack of dawn, surely when the world of decrepit Sodom swirled into silence, inhabitants drained in illicit behaviour. The Canaan dog felt the weight of his age more sharply than ever in the grey dawn and his shoulders rounded as if he carried a heavy load, though he had never undergone a day's labour in his life.

She had abandoned him. There could be no other explanation, nothing that could reconcile Lot with the fact that his wife was not _there._Perhaps she enjoyed the sins of Sodom and was no longer able to be saved, exploring the sins of Sodom like he assumed for Raguel's wife. He had given up hope on both of them. A snarl's semblance flared on the outskirts of his muzzle, sullying his refined air for the briefest of moments. He paced and paced his bedroom, the sleeping mats and blankets tossed into disarray through sleep. The young vixen had attempted to enter his room upon waking but he had flapped his paws at her, sending her away in a flurry of fur and tail back. He did not want her company or her fussing around the room, even if she had the potential to be useful. His only responsibility now was to his daughters, his family. Everything and everyone else followed behind.

Esther shrank back against the cool, tawny wall as Lot stormed past, robes whipping about his ankles. The canine thrust aside the drapes barring entry to his daughters' room and stood in the entrance, panting heavily. Both of his daughters were wrapped in their respective blankets, the woven colours muted as if dawn strove to leech brightness so that the sun may flare up into a scorching blaze. Oh, how he longed for his homeland and the comforts of such. Thamma yawned and sat up, slender form barely discernible beneath the thick blankets.

"Come," Lot mumbled, expressionless in gravity. Thamma blinked. "Only bring what you can carry. We are leaving immediately."

"Why are we leaving so early?" Thamma yawned again and Pheine burrowed deeper into the blankets.

"We have to leave," he said once more, presenting his profile to them. One day, he would have to find suitable husbands for them. But not in Sodom. He would find the Lord's males for his daughters. "Pack your belongings now."

"Where's our mother?" Pheine mumbled bravely, the tip of her dark, moist nose protruding from beneath a muted red blanket.

Lot stiffened and his fur, laced with grey, prickled. If he had been of a lesser breed, he would have raised his hackles in anticipation of a looming threat. How could he answer that question without introducing his daughters to what his wife must have experienced in all its depravity?

"Make yourselves ready to travel," he said coldly, already considering the road ahead, the most apt route. They must travel home; he longed for home. "I expect you ready before it is fully light."

He swept aside the door covering and disappeared, leaving Pheine and Thamma disconcerted. Neither dared disobey Lot when he was in such a frame of mind. Shivering, Pheine slunk from the blankets and delved into a hide pack, searching for attire that would see her through the day. Thamma glanced at the oncoming morning and, remembering her father's words, followed Pheine's lead with sisterly devotion.

"Where is our mother?" Thamma swallowed nervously, paws shaking as she folded up her night clothes, bare from head to toe.

"Put your robes on. You'll become chilled," Pheine frowned. "I know where mother is."

"Of course you do. That's not what I was asking," Thamma clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth, choosing an off-white dress robe that fell down to her sandaled hind paws. She had always liked white. "We know that she went away with those males - father made her go. Why didn't she come back?"

"Maybe she liked what she saw."

"Pheine!" Thamma's eyes darkened and she stood up straight. "You cannot possibly say that. You do not know what happened: you were not there."

Pheine looked away and the skin darkened beneath the white fur on her cheeks, flaring up in a guilty, pink blush.

"I was," she said in a hushed whisper, eyes flicking towards the doorway in anticipation of her father's re-entry. Thamma's eyes widened.

"You...were there?" She repeated slowly. "Then what happened to our mother? Is she well? How did you leave the inn?"

"Father was not in his right mind last night," Pheine murmured, casting her mind back. "He... It was not difficult to slip out the front door after you fell asleep, sister. The males do not pay attention to you here, not in the manner that we are used to. They look and they make...comments...but they do not direct you home or into a household where the male of the family may take care of you. They expect females to behave as they do with little distinction. It is," she paused, "strange."

Thamma sighed and shook her head, resisting the sisterly urge to clout Pheine across the muzzle - she was forever vague.

"That's all very well, but what of mother? How is she?"

"Oh, yes," Pheine blushed, dipping her muzzle so that she stared at a spot of dusty floor between her hind paws. "She... Thamma, she was with the males."

"Well, of course she was," Thamma shook her head. "Honestly, Pheine, that is already established."

"No, no," her sister said. "She was lying with these males, many of them. Lying like when it happens between a male and a female to have a pup and continue their family line."

Thamma's paws flew to her muzzle and she gave a soft 'oh' of comprehension. It would have been comical if not for the supposed severity of the situation. Lot strode by the bedroom and the sisters froze, identical, pointed ears following his progress into the belly of the inn. The subsequent series of clanks and bangs suggested that he was gathering belongings and supplies for the journey, taking advantage of what the inn had in store. The younger sister clenched her teeth together and scraped the remainder of her possessions into the tough, hide bag, distraught at how little progress Pheine had made in comparison. Lying with males! Her thoughts whirled.

"Hurry!" Thamma muttered, ears swivelling in all directions. "You must be ready to leave."

"It is not as if I have much to pack."

Pheine looked down at the small, sad pile of worldly belongings, mostly consisting of clothing, the bare essentials for a female fur's life.

"I expect we will stay with other friends of father along the trail home," she continued, "so what we do or do not take should not be a matter of great concern."

"You sound like mother," Thamma said, biting her lip.

Pheine had no words to respond and could not continue with her tale of the aforementioned night without earning her father's wrath. Though she contested his decisions mentally, she was unwilling to openly confront him; she sensed the time to do so would come and patience would have to be utilised in the meantime. Patience was not her strength. Withholding a sight, Pheine roughly bundled up her clothes, shoving them into the pack on top of Thamma's. With how the tawny hide bulged around their stuffed clothes, she would have welcomed a roomier sack to carry their clothes but they would have to make do.

Quietly, the sisters traipsed down to the receiving room, striving to make as little noise as possible in their worn sandals. Lot stood imperiously over a pile of sacks, out of which spilled an array of lasting foodstuffs and, surprisingly, fine wine. The elder canine frowned, folding his arms across a wide chest as his belly paunch protruded.

"Take two bags each," Lot gestured jerkily, tail tucked between his legs. "We must leave - now! Quickly!"

"But why?" Thamma began, swiftly quelled by a dark, frenzied look that she had never before seen from her father. His eyes were restless, never lingering in one spot for more than the briefest of moments, as if he was a cornered prey animal. She felt as if she was seeing her father for who he was for the first time and wondered if Pheine experienced the same. Her sister may have already been enlightened.

"Are you leaving the inn already?" It was the fox handmaiden with the fine, gold anklet. She sniffed and linked her paws in front of her smooth, flat stomach, angling her muzzle downwards. "We hoped you would stay longer. Are you not waiting for your wife's return?"

"No," Lot answered bluntly, leaving no room for question. "We are not lingering."

He hesitated, regarding the vixen. Esther. That was her name. Fine. Beautiful. Pure. He had not borne witness to this young one sinning. Her purity seemed to be a given case and she was as obedient as any female should be, especially for a vixen. He had once found vixens distasteful, simmering with embers ever ready to flare into life, but perhaps the innkeeper, Malachi, had tempered her. It was a shame he was away on business, unable to guide the little vixen. As the only male in the vicinity, it was Lot's duty to see that Esther was cared for.

"You are coming with us," he said, eyes narrowing into severe slits. "This land is not for you."

Esther pricked her ears, narrow jaw falling slightly agape. Conflicted over how to respond, she rubbed one sandaled hind paw against her opposite leg, scratching away an invisible itch.

"Why would you wish to take me away?" She averted her gaze. "I have done nothing for you that was not hospitable as is deemed by my work in this inn."

"Some should not be left to sin when an alternate path is open," Lot said, a small smile curving his dark lips upwards.

Pheine suppressed the wicked urge to roll her eyes. What a ridiculous sentiment. Or so she thought, though the handmaiden appeared convinced, eyes brightening with the prospect of leaving Sodom behind. Pheine privately thought that the vixen, who could not have been any older than she was, looked like an adult in name but a child in mind: she was an innocent, as Lot had deduced. And she was coming with them.

No one attempted to prevent them from leaving the inn, which only heightened Lot's sense of paranoia. He panted, stress depicted in its most canine form, and kept his daughters close, unusually protective of the petite handmaid tailing him obediently. Though she was not one of his, he believed that he was leading her away from sordid life, undesirable to those with the Lord's blessing. He hoped and feared that the land of Sodom would soon be no more, destroyed by God's power. If only his wife was not one of them. If she was not with him, she must be one of the Sodomites.

It was too early for many to be on the streets of Sodom, despite Lot ensuring that they kept to the lesser populated side streets. A male camel, clearly intoxicated, stumbled by and Lot swept his daughters against the wall, pinning them behind a fat arm that swayed with flab. Pheine grimaced and wriggled free as soon as the harmless camel meandered along his way, stride unsteady and syllables of song bursting periodically from his lips. That male, thankfully, had been clothed. Pheine was beginning to suspect that the lack of clothing was a common, daily occurrence in Sodom and wished that she could experience the feeling of being so cool and unburdened in the heat of the day. It had to be comfortable.

Lot did not know where he was going and Esther's gentle direction passed unnoticed; having lived in Sodom, she of course knew how to navigate the city. After some time, the vixen gave up on supplying Lot with hints and advice about the best route to take as the canine was caught up in his own world. Pheine and Thamma exchanged a look when he changed direction for the umpteenth time, leading them along the outer wall of the city without making an attempt to exit its boundaries. It was as if he was trying to confuse a pursuer, but Pheine could not fathom who would be pursuing them. After what she had seen, the citizens as a whole did not seem the kind to submit to such behaviour, even if there were always unscrupulous individuals wherever one travelled.

"If mother was here," Pheine muttered to Thamma. "If mother was here, she would know how to get us out without all these twists and turns." Her expression darkened. "I hope she is okay."

Danger. Lot's nose twitched. Something burned. A pillar of smoke rose from the middle of the city, the faint aroma of ash stirring fear in the pit of Lot's belly. A strange feeling settled across his mind, weighing down in the burden of knowledge, and he cast his eyes heavenwards, certain that their Shepherd was watching over them. It was a warning. His tongue lay thick in his mouth and he licked dry lips, imagining fire spreading, devouring Sodom fur by fur and building by building. Nothing would remain to suggest that such a city of sin ever existed.

They had to leave. There could be no more detours, no more cunning plans to avoid the citizens. If they met others along the way, they would simply have to run. Swallowing the lump in his throat, Lot prayed that the Lord would provide them with safe passage home. They had done nothing wrong; his family was not to be destroyed. He swept his arm forward, gesturing with a wild, caged expression.

"Hurry!" He called, eyes fearful with white rims. "It has come! Please, I implore you to hurry! We must leave the city!"

"It's just a -" Esther began.

"No!" Lot shouted, clenching his paw into a fist. "We have to leave! Judgement has come! Follow me!"

With his remaining family at his heels, the Canaan dog fled the city, wheezing as breath refused to come easily. Were the Lord's fires already at his heels? Fear spurred him on, thrusting his daughters before him when they pleaded to slow down, pleaded that their paws were sore. He could not let them stop: no, no, no. Breath raking through old lungs, the canine pushed his charges out of the streets, willing what the Lord would on the cursed city of Sodom. It was behind, he reassured silently, mumbling under his breath as their sandals pounded earth into scuffs of orange dust. They would be fine out and away from the city. He paused only a moment to draw breath, glanced to their rear, and watched the pillar of smoke creeping higher and higher.