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“I can’t believe it! She’s about to go at it again. Just look at her!”

“Don’t get yourself worked up Logan. If you grind your teeth every time ‘her ladyship’ lifts her nose up and gets into one of her moods you’ll grind them down to nubs by winter.”

The advice – well intentioned as it was- fell on deaf ears even though Logan knew Tass was right. He didn’t have a problem with her, and had never really had a problem with any woman, that is until she joined their party. And she was undeniably a good addition – a good mage was hard to find, and she’d proven herself in the month or so they’d traveled together. But could her skill – any amount of skill- make up for a personality like that?

“Look at the innkeep smile… Poor bastard doesn’t know what’s about to hit him…” Tobias said. There was genuine sympathy in the Halfling’s voice, but not enough for him to get in the way of the haughty elf approaching the bar.

Logan saw the innkeeper don his best smile at the sight of their party’s mage. A stout man in his middle years, he looked like the sort to always be a little more considerate with his female guests. It was a warm, genuine smile that even his bushy mustache couldn’t hide, a line that went from rosy cheek to rosy cheek. He was a hospitable sort of man but he was obviously trying to look his best when serving one of the Fair Folk. The inn’s common room was by no means raucous but it was busy enough that he couldn’t hear what she was saying. But he didn’t need to at this point. He knew it by heart, and could tell what she was saying by watching the innkeeper’s face go from smiling, to attentive and then to confused.

“You think that wind that chased us all the way here is going to wind down before dawn?” Tass asked, shivering a little at the memory of the howling gusts that had hounded them through an iron-skied day until they found this place.

“Not a chance. God help any travelers stuck outside on this night…” Tobias said, in no casual display of piety.

The Halfling was a priest, even though he favored wool and leather over robes and vestments. Understandable, since he served the wayfarer god and spent most of his time under the open sky, seeing the world and easing the journeys of fellow travelers. But piety was one thing and shuddering through a night beside a dead fire was another. Places like this were a blessing from Medard as far as he was concerned, but ever since their new mage joined them they’ve become a source of some consternation in their little group.

“I can’t let her do this…” Logan said, leaving his seat before either Tobias or Tass could stop him.

The young woman had a friendly disposition considering she was the party’s “locksmith” (by her own admission a wonderful euphemism for ‘thieving little cunt’) and seemed hopeful that the very same disposition might serve to prevent the two from getting into a row, if not a fight. The Halfling admired her courage and wished her the best of luck, offering up a silent prayer while he contemplated his cider.

“So you do have a spare room?” the elf said, her tone cold and her high-cheekboned face showing little compassion for the increasingly distressed man behind the bar.

“Well yes, m’Lady, but…”

“Then I’ll have that one for myself…” she insisted, fetching a coin-purse and ignoring the innkeeper who was still trying his best to be polite and hospitable.

“Yes, but y’see they’re all two beds apiece. And seeing how your party numbers four, well I just thought…”

“You assumed, and your assumption was incorrect. We’ll be renting three rooms, and paying good money for all three. I’m even willing to spend a little more to get mine if this somehow inconveniences you, even though I can’t see how it possibly could…”

“Oh it’s not that m’Lady, and I wouldn’t dream of charging more than a fair night’s rent but you see there’s still a chance someone might drop by. And I have bedded people down in the hayloft before, but only when there was nowhere else to put them. And with that devil of a wind howling out there, it just seems a bit heartless…” he said, looking embarrassed at implying that she was, in spite of the fact she might very well be.

“Two rooms will do.” Logan said, coming to the man’s rescue. Even the scorn on the elven face was beautiful, the sharp planes of her face giving the mage an aristocratic hauteur as she glared at the comparatively scruffy human male.

“For the three of you. I’ll be paying my rent out of my own pocket, so I really don’t see what business this is of anyone’s, including you.” She replied tersely, and Logan looked like he was about to reply in kind when the straw-haired rogue stepped deftly between them.

“Look Alma…”

“Almaya.” the sorceress corrected, bristling at the shortened form of her name and the familiarity it might imply.

“Almaya, right… Look I can understand if you don’t want to sleep with the boys, so how about we share a room? I don’t snore, I’m reasonably well-groomed and I promise to be on my best behavior. I don’t even have a choice – my fingers are still frozen stiff, see?” she said, and made a point of pretending to try and fail to flex her nimble digits, hoping in vain it might lighten the elven mage’s mood. “Even I can’t work under conditions like this…”

The elven sorceress replied to the girl’s hopeful bid at diplomacy with a slight elevation of that delicately pointed chin before turning to the innkeep and setting twice the coin a room here cost, the small copper stack hitting striking the bar as if it was a magistrate’s gavel. Tobias was glaring at her as she did, but she just returned a gaze of annoyance at frustration, as if she’d been handling matters perfectly fine until he came along and caused a scene. The innkeep gave a sigh but realized that this was not a battle worth fighting. He handed Almaya her key and with a swish of white robes and wheat-yellow hair the elf walked made her way up the stairs. Logan and Tass gave an apology to the innkeeper and returned to their seats to finish their drinks before retiring.

“I admire your courage Logan, but you’ll have better luck trying to talk that icy gale into becoming a summer breeze than you’ll have trying to get our sorceress to show some warmth.” Tobias said as the two tall folk (one taller than the other) eased themselves back into their seats.

“I still can’t believe it. I’ve met oxen less stubborn than her!” Logan complained.

"How old do you think she is?" Tass asked, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper even though the elf in question was not even in the room. "You can never tell with them, can you? What if she's old enough to be our great-great grandmother? That would explain it, wouldn’t it? She’s not listening to us because to her we might as well still be snotty babes in swaddling clothes.”

“It has always been my view that the road has a way of bringing those who travel it closer together, but I must admit that woman is testing my faith…” the Halfling said, and after a brief silence that followed the three remaining companions turned to small talk until their cups ran dry.

“I don’t know about you three, but my thirst is sated. Wouldn’t do for a man of faith to get too drunk…” Tobias insisted, although he could hold his liquor so well Tass had once accused him of being a clean-shaven dwarf. “And it’s been a while since we’ve slept in proper beds…”

“I’ll join you…” Logan said, the mention of a bed reminding him of how much he needed a night of proper sleep under a roof as opposed to a night sky.

“Well I’ll stay here a while longer. See if I find someone who doesn’t mind cold fingers…” Tass replied, casting her gaze around the smoky room.

“Suit yourself. Want me to take your pack up as well?” Logan asked. He grabbed Tobias’ bag up without asking since he was the strongest of the four and even though the Halfling could cross many a mile on bare feet, stairs were always a challenge for the diminutive cleric.

“Oh, would you? Thanks!” Tass replied, before making her way back to the bar.

“You know, my mother warned me about girls like her…” the Halfling confided in Logan as he easily hefted his gear along with his companions’ smaller packs. “Unfortunately, she had no advice on what to do with the likes of that one…” he said as he gazed up the narrow stairway and the temperamental mage that lay beyond them.

*******

“Wait… you hear that?” Logan said, stopping with his hand on his bed buckle.

“Hear what?”

“That was the door. Those are the poor bastards who just made it, who’ve been freezing in that howling wind, and who are about to learn they have to bed down in the hayloft because of her.”

“Well, plenty of horses in that stable tonight. It’s sure to be warm, if a bit… pungent.” Tobias said from under his covers, hoping to calm the young human who’d looked ready to sleep the sleep of the righteous (or at least exhausted) a moment ago, but whose blood was up as the slam of the front door reminded him of his earlier clash with their mage. “We’ve slept in worse…”

“I’m going over there…” the young man said, his shoulders stiff as he strode towards the door.

“Logan… what do you think you’ll accomplish?”

“I’m just going to tell her what’s going on. See if she loses some sleep over it…” Logan replied, and was out before the Halfling could have another go at talking him out of it.

Even before he was out the door the scene from a while ago replayed itself – her setting those coins down and glaring at him, almost like she was saying “I’m forced to overpay for my room here and it’s all your fault!”. He hadn’t met many elves, and while he knew that they can be aloof he still couldn’t believe that her behavior was normal even for them! What had been an annoyance had fumed up into proper anger, enough that when he got to her door he forgot there was a woman behind it. He pushed it open and since Almaya had neglected to lock it, it swung in and left the young man staring in shock at the sight in front of him.

Instead of an outraged elven woman there was a ratling female (yes, most definitely a female) naked on one of the narrow beds. She seemed equally shocked to see him, and it struck him that it was an odd reflex for a burglar to freeze perfectly still when caught. But then again most burglars weren’t caught naked and with a hand knuckle-deep in…

Fortunately for Logan his instincts were the first to kick in. He had no idea who this creature was, but he suspected it could tell him where he could find their mage. As much as she frustrated him, Almaya was one of his traveling companions and he intended to make sure she was safe. His mace was back in his own room but he was still wearing his belt and the small knife always sheathed there. He drew the blade and advanced towards the rodent who’s only just pulled her hand from between her legs and began to dodge around the small room.

“Stop you… it’s me, Almaya!” the ratling said, keeping her voice as low as she could.

“The hell it is! I don’t know where you heard her name, but you’ve obviously never seen her!” he said, wondering how stupid this female was if she thought he’d confuse a ratling girl with an elf.

“Will you put that… Deadfall Delve! We were going through the treasure and found out Tass had filched an amulet when I cast a divination to detect magic and a blue glow came from between her… from her bodice!” she said, naked as the day she was born and breathing hard as Logan remembered what she was talking about. Tass had been sure she’d swiped that trinket without anyone noticing, and had only realized she’d been caught when all three of them began staring at her chest. He doubted there was anyone outside of their party who knew about that…

“Alma?” Logan asked in disbelief.

“Almaya!” Her words had almost been a hiss, but the way she’d pronounced that name… it was the same careful and deliberate enunciation their mage always used when any of them failed to address her properly. She’s naked and being threatened with a knife and she still found it necessary to correct me. That's her all right…

She didn't resemble any of the ratling females Logan had ever seen. True, he'd never seen quite so much of one, but the ones selling their tails in dingy alleyways didn't dress in a way that left much to the imagination. Those females had never really caught their eyes - too crass, too shifty, the kind of streetwalkers who preyed on drunks likely to pass out after the act and winding up paying with everything they had worth taking. And even though he'd walked in on Alma while she was knuckle deep in herself, even though the air reeked of something distinctly and sweetly feminine, and even though the evidence of her actions could be seen in the soaked fur of her crotch he still couldn’t believe it.

The cold, distant elven mage who acted as if she was doing the ground a favor by treading on it, the one who valued propriety over practicality was really one of the rat-folk. The woman who routinely made him grind his teeth with her pointless insistence on decorum was now naked in front of him, barring her fur, with the evidence of her actions drying on one hand. The both stood still and silent, catching their breath as the adrenaline of their sudden and nearly violent encounter drained away.

At some point he realized he was alone in a room with a naked, panting woman, and this didn’t help straighten out his thoughts. She seemed unaware, focused more on the fact that Logan still had his knife out than on the eyes roaming her body. Almaya had the beautiful visage one expected from an elf – a face that looked like it was sculpted rather than born – but he’d never really seen her body. Her robe – a costly-looking thing done all in pure white and pale yellow- showed little apart from her proud and prim posture, the same garment now hung carefully on a peg in the wall.

Neither illusion nor fabric hid Alma’s body now. Nothing covering her but her fur, and the sleek coat that seemed to be made of fine, short hairs was doing nothing to provide modesty. There was something tawny and willowy to the rat-woman’s grey form, a sinus grace accentuated by the occasional whip-like motion of her smooth-skinned tail. It was one glimpse of pale-pink skin, the others being Alma’s palms and the glistening stripe between her legs. There were two bare spots on either breast, but the skin there was darker, a rosy brown that didn’t stand out so starkly against the grey of her fur.

Logan suddenly realized he was staring at a naked woman, the notion forcing him to immediately shift focus to her face and to sheathe his knife. He felt heat rush to his face, especially since even though he was forcing himself to look Almaya in her pale-green eyes, his mind was still holding the image of two breasts rising and falling, the rosy-brown areolae wrinkling a little as the nipples stiffened and poked out.

“Quit staring!” the rat he was still trying to accept was Almaya the mage squeaked out, using one arm to cover her bosom and rushing to place a hand over her glistening crotch. Logan was at a loss for words. He had been staring, for… how long? How long had they just stood like that – tense and frozen- without a word spoken? And why did she tell him not to stare only after he’d stopped? He could see her tail lashing behind her and wondered what it meant.

“I’m sorry, it’s just that you’re the first elf I’ve ever seen naked!” he tossed back, a familiar bitterness rising in answer to Almaya’s imperious tone.

“Keep your voice down!” the ratling hissed, the command delivered with less hauteur and confidence than the elven sorceress would have done. “I’m not an elf, but you can’t tell anyone!” she insisted, her tone softening when it became apparent she’d have to depend on the goodwill and confidentiality of someone who had little love for her.

“So this is why you go through that private room routine every single time?”

“Do you have any idea of the effort it takes to maintain an illusion like that? Even when we’re camped down for the night and I have to keep up appearances even while I sleep? No, you don’t, because if you did you would realize how much I need to let it rest every once in a while.”

Logan opened his mouth, but she was right. He was completely ignorant about how magic worked, and the fact he’d drawn a knife on her thinking the ratling girl was a thief spoke of how completely he’d been taken in by the illusion. That still didn’t explain Amaya’s desperate need to keep up appearances even in front of her traveling companions, but that explanation, the young man decided, would have to wait for a time when she wasn’t standing buck naked in front of him in a room smelling so… intimate.

“Fine. I’ll keep your secret…” he said, turning to leave until a quiet call from behind stopped him before he reached the door.

“Wait!” Almaya said, as loud as she dared.

When he turned around she looked a little calmer, even thoughtful before letting her hands fall at her sides. Her body was once again left without what little modesty her slender arms could provide, but this time Logan found himself studying her face, if for no other reason than to gain a clue to what was going on inside that head of hers. Even though it was the same woman, she didn’t look as cold now as when she hid behind the conjured visage of an elven beauty. The prominent rodential incisors made her look less serious, and Logan couldn’t help but note that they were sparkling white even in the warm light given off by the little bedside oil-lamp.

Her fur also looked sleek and well groomed, apart from the matted mess on the inner side of each thigh. The large round ears showed no nicks, scars or signs they were ever pierced, and the mane growing between them had been… well, effort had been put into it. The rat-femme’s hair was the dark red of old rust and good wine, and some effort had been taken to brush it and tie it up behind Almaya’s head. But it was too thick and wiry to submit so it stuck out stiffly just beyond the ribbon binding it, bringing to mind a flowering thistle. Appropriate enough for a personality that was usually quite prickly.

Failing to gleam any meaning from her expression, the young man’s gaze began to wander down. Her breathing had evened out, but her chest was still rising and falling, the nipples still looking as hard as acorns on those firm, gently rounded breasts. With nothing else to do in the silence he let his eyes slide lower, past a hard belly and a waist his hands could almost gird to the swell of her hips, cocked slightly to one side. It was only when his eyes caught sight of the little pink patch between her shapely thighs, the glistening folds of her sex still parted after her attempts to satisfy her urges that decency forced him to meet her gaze. One look at those eyes made it clear that she’d finished considering whatever had been on her mind.

“You… you don’t have to leave right away…” she said, throwing her hip farther to one side and throwing her shoulders back a little but far enough to push her chest out. Even the pink tail behind her went through a brief twisting motion

“I promised to keep your secret and I’m a man of my word. There’s no need for you to bribe me with… that.”

“I’m not offering a bribe!” the ratling almost hissed at him, a sharp contrast from the husked invitation a moment ago. She was clearly offended by the idea that she would offer herself up as payment, which Logan found strange for a woman who was shameless enough to let a man stare at her and make an offer like that. And where’s your shame? What are you still doing here?

“Then what?” he asked her, to avoid answering his own unanswered questions.

“What do you think? You’ve been staring at me, and I’ve let you stare. And you seem to like what you saw…” she said, and only when she made a point of looking under Logan’ belt did the human realize just how obvious his reaction to her display was.

“That has nothing… that’s just a reaction.” He blurted out. He knew he was handsome enough and wasn’t a stranger to female attention, but he’d never had never met one as brazen as the ratling in front of him.

“And it’s all I need from you. Look, I’m not asking you to be my mate. I’m not even asking you to like me. But I’m going through something human females go through every month but a woman like me goes through only three or four times a year. And not to put too fine a point to it, but you interrupted me at exactly the wrong moment and threw away an hour or so of diligent work. So why don’t we just let ourselves be male and female and do something that will let us get a good night’s rest?”

The sensible thing, Logan knew, would be to decline as politely as possible and give this deranged female the privacy to do what she needed to do. He’d be lying if he said he’d only bedded girls he’d been in love with, but he’d always at least liked the ones he slept with. Species didn’t make much difference to him – this was the same damned woman who’d been grinding his nerves down since she joined their party. How could she go from not wanting to even be around him and the others to wanting something that should be an intimate thing between two people?

“Fine…”

The word left his mouth without asking permission, and for a second Logan was shocked with himself. It wasn’t enthusiastic, but it seemed to be enough for Almaya. The ratling woman didn’t really look at him with any affection, but there was hunger in her eyes, and an eagerness in her movements as she took the few steps needed to bring her within reach of him. With her next to him the feminine musk he’d almost gotten used to hit him with an even greater force, lacing every breath it took and pushing back what reason he had left.

And while Logan remained frozen, unsure of what to do, Almaya went after what she wanted without hesitation. Dexterous fingers unbuckled his belt before moving on to the laces of his pants, the last barrier keeping his manhood safe from this bizarre woman who seemed so desperate for it. The moment she could she stuck her hand in, her smooth-skinned palm soft against a member that was harder than the young man had realized. She felt her squeeze around him, and felt his shaft flex in her grip, the response drawing a shuddering breath from the ratling female.

She drew him out and openly stared at the length her fingers were wrapped around, her breathing once again becoming rapid as she gave the throbbing length a few more strokes and squeezes. Her eyes were locked on him but there was no passion in her gaze. Some curiosity though, enough for Logan to wonder what a male of her species would look like. He knew that when it came to stature and build he was more impressive than man of the ratfolk – standing taller and straighter, with broader shoulders and heavier limbs. Almaya was at least a head shorter than he was, and even though she didn’t have the scrawny build common to ratling women her body was still trim and lithe. If anything, it looked like she might find a male of his size a bit of a challenge…

“You feel more eager than you sound…” she said, a taunt which might have grated harder on the young man’s nerves if it wasn’t for the husky quality of the voice delivering it. For all her aloofness, Almaya the mage was a bit short of breath at the sight of her handful.

Logan was still wondering how exactly this would happen. He wasn’t much of a romantic, but even he knew that women expected a bit of tenderness before they were in the mood for something… harder. He was still wondering if he should kiss the rat-femme – if he would really want to, and if she would let him! But before he could decide Almaya released him, making him wonder if she’d changed her mind, or if this had been some sort of twisted mind-game all along. But when the grey-furred female placed her hands against the wattle-and-daub wall, with her legs shoulders width apart and her rear thrust out, all doubts of that sort vanished.

“You can do whatever you like, as long as you don’t finish before I do…” she said, looking over one shoulder just long enough to do so before hanging her head and hiking her tail up.

Logan felt his jaw clench and his pride bristle, even though his feet were moving him closer to the lithe gray body on offer. Even when she needed something from him she was infuriating – behaving as if she could just use him the same way she’d been using her fingers a short while ago. A part of him wanted to leave, to finally put one over on her by leaving her like this and hopefully making her feel as frustrated and annoyed as she’s made him feel since they met.

But that part wasn’t in control. That part wasn’t making his chest swell with every breath he took, nor his nostrils flare as he caught the scent now that the source of it was exposed and on display. Taking his place behind her, Logan was aware he’d never taken a woman like this. Back when the best beard he could grow looked like something you found on an old piece of cheese he’d been with a girl who had her back against a wall, at least until she got a bit carried away and wound up clinging to him like a limpet to a stone. But that had still been face to face.

And usually with little to no light. A shy girl, and awkward boy… groping in the dark was exiting enough. The bedside lamp cast enough light that he could see the contours of Almaya’s body, served up as it was to him. Her fur was short and fine enough that it showed the fine muscles of her back, the tension in her shoulders, and more than anything that out-thrust rear end with the wet patch of smooth pink skin. He heard of a woman’s privates referred to as a flower, and it struck him that Almaya’s looked remarkably like one – a blossom near full bloom.

A flick of her tail made him realize he was taking too long. It felt strange to just… mount a woman like this, without so much as a kiss or a tender touch to get her ready. But Almaya was obviously not in a kissing mood, and he remembered that her fingers had already done a good job of getting her ready. He placed one hand on the rat-femme’s grey furred hip, feeling a little shudder run through the muscles under his palm. His other hand gripped his shaft, guiding the head towards those open, glistening petals.

The touch of her silken sex on his glans swept away some of his doubts, and the lingering annoyance Almaya always inspired in him. This part of her, at least, was warm and welcoming. He watched her part around him, the lips splaying until his tip finally sunk in and those pink folds wrapped themselves around his shaft. A soft groan was the ratling’s only reply, but it was encouraging enough. Gripping her waist Logan slid himself deeper and deeper, unsure how much the svelte female could take.

Inch after inch sunk into the dripping honeypot with nothing resembling a complaint emerging from Almaya’s muzzle. Logan wondered what his expression must look like as he watched his shaft push deeper into the tight hot tunnel occasionally twitching around the girthy member filling it. The difference in height between them meant he’d had to bend his legs a little, but as he watched her splayed folds envelop the base of his cock the young man stood up straight, forcing his partner to stand on the tips of her toes as he pushed every last bit of his manhood into her.

Again, no complaints, although he could tell at this point she was trying to muffle her noises. Considerate but unnecessary since the room next to hers was taken by Tass, who’d decided to stay in the taproom a little longer. The last Logan had seen of her she’d been cozying up to a merchant’s bodyguard, a hulk of a man with more than a little orc in his ancestry. The rogue had admitted to him that she preferred her males ‘big strong and mean-looking’ and the fact he couldn’t hear anything coming from her room meant she was likely still trying to hook her big fish.

It was an idle thought, one driven from his mind when the ratling woman he was buried in clenched up, her already snug sex tightening around him like a warm, velvety vice. Her tail was still hiked up, and he could even see her pucker scrunch up before it and the ratling’s sex relaxed. Logan released a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, his hands sliding back a little from that waspish waist until he was holding Almaya’s hips. He noticed two tiny dimples on either side of the base of her tail, and guided by curiosity of not instinct he slid his thumbs into the little depressions and pressed down. He caught only a second or so of Almaya’s groan before the sorceress bit her lip to keep quiet.

“I’m ready… you can begin.” She said, a cold instruction delivered in a tone so sultry it could make a paladin rethink his vows.

It irked some part of the young man that she thought that even now she could tell him what to do, but at this moment they were both slaves to the same desperate need. He began just grinding himself against her, feeling the snug sex quiver and pulse as he struck various sensitive spots inside her, every convulsion forcing out the female juices laced with that scent he’d caught when entering her room. He saw her chest expand whit every shuddering breath, her tail quiver and the muscles under his palms tremble as he began to push and pull, sliding just a little bit out of her before hilting himself and forcing the ratling back on the tips of her toes.

“Haahhhhghh!”

“You all right?” Logan asked in genuine concern.

“Harder!” came the reply in a voice that left no room for arguments.

Logan had never had a girl ask him that. They’d all wanted him to go soft, to go slow, but then again they’d all wanted a man to make love to them. It wasn’t what Almaya had asked of him, nor what she needed from him. Remembering who it was he was with and what the terms of the arrangement had been, he dug his fingers into the furry flesh of her hips and began to hump faster against that round grey rump.

Soft grunts, carefully muffled, greeted his every thrust, noises so low they couldn’t block out the fleshy sound of his hips hitting her cheeks or the wet churning noises coming from between her legs. In spite of her willowy figure the curves of the ratling female were more soft than firm, and he found himself mesmerized by the way her out-thrust rear would ripple from the force of his humping. He saw her back arch further, the muscles along her neck and shoulders tensing as the absorbed some of the force of his thrusts, stopping him from pushing Almaya’s face against the wall when he drove himself in.

He could hear himself breathing hard, his heartbeat a steady thumping in his ears as more and more of his shaft slid from the silken embrace of the sorceress’ sex. He’d never been this forceful with a woman, but then again he’d never had a woman who routinely tested his patience thrust her ass out and demand he gibe it to her hard. And since for the first time he wasn’t getting any complaints from her, Logan didn’t hold back.

“Ahhhlmost… harder!” the ratling mumbled, sounding woozy as her voice quivered with every smack of the young human’s hips against her behind.

Before Logan could even consider what he was doing he had one hand wrapped around the base of the pink-skinned tail, griping the whip-like appendage hard before putting the newfound leverage to good use. He couldn’t see Almaya’s face but he could tell she was biting her lip with those big incisors, desperate to stifle her cries as Logan pushed her to her limits. He was pulling back with every thrust now, the rodential rump rippling wildly with every smack of his hips into her. He could even make out those firm round breasts bouncing wildly on her chest, the dull claws on the tips of her fingers making little marks in the wall.

Logan remembered her insisting he made sure she get what she needed before he finished, and was beginning to wonder if the twisted female actually wanted him to go so hard he hurt her when he noticed her shoulders tensing and her muzzle lifting. The muffled cries rose in pitch, the sloppy sex molded around him quivering and pulsing a few times before clamping down. Her grip was so strong he could barely keep pushing in and out of her, but Logan had his own needs and had gone past the point of no return. After all, if he failed to finish by the time Almaya came down from her peek, who’s to say she wouldn’t just kick him out of her room with his pants around his ankles?

Her splayed slit was trying everything it could to keep the male in and to milk him dry, too much to hope for considering how messy she was. But it was that reflex that reminded Logan she was in heat, and with the last ounce of reason remaining to him he pulled his shaft all the way from her. The sensation of her dripping walls clinging to him set him off, but fortunately the tip had just slipped from between her parted folds, the first tope of milky white seed striking the ratling’s still winking pucker while the rest of them streaked wildly across the grey-furred cheeks.

“Nhhaahh! What the hell are you doing!?” Almaya hissed with what little breath she could catch.

“You said you were in… that it was that time! I thought I was doing the right thing…” Logan replied, keeping his voice low as his shaft shot the last few milky streaks at the rodent’s rump.

“Yes, and why do you think I chose a human to do this with? A mess in there would have been easier to clean up. Do you have any idea how hard it is to clean that stuff when it soaks into fur?”

“Can’t say that I do.” The young man replied, once again amazed at the sheer nerve of this woman. “Do you want me to help clean y-“

“No, you just go to your room and get some sleep. I’ll do the same once I’m done wiping… Gods above! Do all human males make this much?” the ratling asked, shocked at the warm seed soaking into her fur even as she watched.

“It’s been a while…” Logan replied, knowing that wasn’t all of it. He’d made love to women before, and as strange as he’d felt engaging into something that more closely resembled rutting, there was obviously a part of him that had responded to it.

“If you say so. Goodnight…” Almaya said, sounding less tetchy. Tobies wasn’t sure if she was regretting the way she talked to him or if it was because having her urges sated had taken the temper out of her temper for the time being.

“Goodnight.” He replied, because nothing else really came to mind.

*******

Morning came after a deep, exhausted sleep, and Logan could excuse the sun for waking him by shining in his eyes if it meant a day without a gray sky above them. They all filed into the taproom to break their fast and as the last member of their party made their way down the stairs the young man wasn’t sure what he’d see. It turned out to be the Lady Almaya, composed and aloof as always. Logan knew that last night hadn’t been a dream, and knew what the elf actually was, but try as he might to stare beyond what he now knew was an illusion he couldn’t see her as anything other than the beautiful but distant elven woman.

And she behaved the same way with everyone, including the man she’d bent over for last night, urging him to take her harder even as he rutted her like an animal. All before she’d had her fill and waved him out of her room, leaving him to feel like he’d been used somehow, a better substitute for the ratling’s fingers.

The day proved bright and pleasant enough and they spent it trudging along the road. Night caught them away from any inn or rest stop, but it was a kinder one than the last one so they chose a good spot and set up their bedrolls and lean-tos. Three of them around the stone-lined fire pit, and one about two dozen feet away. Almaya always insisted that her skill with the art provided her with ways to keep warm without making her reek of wood-smoke.

Logan took first watch, taking off his cumbersome mail hauberk and trusting in his shield and mace. Not that he expected any trouble since they were still in civilized lands, but it paid to be prudent. The moon climbed the sky without providing him with any duties more challenging than occasionally tossing another branch into the flickering flames, and when he judged that half the night had elapsed he walked over to their sorceress, who’d agreed to take second watch.

“Almaya. Almaya, your watch…” he repeated. If he’d been waking either Tass or Tobias, he’d done it by gently shaking their shoulder so as not to wake anyone else, but the elven lady insisted nobody touch her without her permission. Even in her sleep she still looked like one of the Fair Folk, but maybe the illusion wasn’t as strong, and a hand touching her might feel short fine fur where the eyes reported smooth skin…

“I’m awake… how tired are you?” she asked.

“If you think I’m going to keep a look out through the whole night you…”

“No, I’ll take it from here, but I need you for… for the same reason as last night.”

“Again?”

“Yes, again!” the fake elf almost hissed, worried about raising her tone and waking the sleeping members of their party. “I’ll be in heat for a little under a week. I’d honestly didn’t think you’d mind. You seemed to enjoy yourself last night…”

“I’m not sure I’ve the energy left to repeat last night’s performance…” Logan said, his muscles voicing their assent. All save one.

“All right, I suppose I can do the work this time round. Come on, lay down here…” she said, getting off her bedroll and beginning to disrobe.

The moment Logan laid his back on the blanket he felt enveloped by more heat that the disguised ratling’s body could have produced. Little wonder she didn’t need to huddle by the fire if this is how good her tricks worked, but then again Logan now knew the real reason she kept her distance. As she shrugged off her robe he caught a glimpse of the illusionary body hidden under it for a brief moment before fair skin gave way to gray fur that looked darker in the moonlight than it had by a lamp’s flickering flame last night.

She breathed out a sigh of relief, and he wondered what sort of strain it is to maintain a spell so good that it had fooled everyone they had encountered so far. More to the point, what kind of effort was it to maintain such a lie from everyone around you, nearly every hour of every day. The ratfolk had a reputation for being deceitful, for lying without any shame or remorse, but he doubted Almaya had it in her to do that. Standing under the moonlight as she was, she seemed to be savoring this moment the way one enjoys a summer rain after a day spent in the scorching sun.

The beatific expression changed when her eyes fell on him, her discomfort at being seen as what she was evident in the twisting of those big round ears, the twitch of her whiskers and a crease of worry on her forehead that her fur failed to entirely mask. Remembering herself she almost fell upon him, undoing the laces on his shirt and his breeches. She eyed his swollen but still tumescent member for a second, either in admiration or annoyance that he wasn’t fully erect.

Logan still wasn’t sure what the case was even when she bent over his crotch, grasping his manhood with one hand and guiding it to her mouth. The sight of those gleaming incisors had the young man gripping the blanket under him but as the ratling woman’s muzzle parted he felt nothing but soft lips encircling him and a tongue twisting against his tip. The breath that had frozen in his lungs broke free with a shuddering gasp, the rodential female’s muzzle-like mouth allowing her to easily take him all the way inside.

Logan had heard of women doing this, but those were generally the sort of girls with a reputation. He’d certainly never had the nerve to ask one to try, and none had offered. He wasn’t sure if Almaya was enjoying this, but there was something deliberate in the way she was suckling on his length and stroking it with her tongue. Her eyes were closed as she began to bob her head up and down, her palms flat against Logan’s thighs and his thickening length held securely between her pursed lips. It didn’t take more than a minute for him to get as hard as he was going to get, which seemed to satisfy the woman performing this lewd act.

She took a few moments to get her breath back after his tip was free of her muzzle before straddling him and giving him a glimpse of that pinkish strip between her thighs. Without a word she angled his shaft up with one hand, parting her folds with the other and giving him a glimpse of the delicate folds dripping in need for something more substantial than her fingers. Once his head was in that silken passage Almaya wasted little time forcing her hips down and taking everything Logan had in a single stroke.

The grunt she’d barely managed to muffle and a slight wince led him to believe that she’d overestimated herself or underestimated him, but after a few seconds to gather her breath she was moving. She swiveled her hips from side to side, getting comfortable before she settled for grinding them back and forth. As his eyes adjusted to the limited light she could make out the little grimaces crossing her face, brief twinges of pain flashing over an expression that spoke of building desire, or more likely a deep need.

She kept her eyes and muzzle pointed gently up, either gazing into the stars above them or more likely avoiding looking down at him. Logan felt like he’d seen the night sky plenty of times, and was likely to see it many more in the years to come, but the exotic female riding him like no woman ever had might just be a rare sight.

His gaze fell upon her breasts, round but not heavy and promising to be firm to the touch but soft when squeezed. Even though he was getting his night eyes, moonlight seemed to bleach the colors, making the coin-sized patches of bare skin in the center of each tear-shaped mound less prominent. But they still caught Logan’s eyes as the contracted, the skin wrinkling in tiny rings as Almaya’s nipples stuck out.

Some of the women he’d been with had a particularly sensitive bosom, and as the firm globes rose and fell with every breath of the female seated on his crotch he felt his palms itch and his fingers tremble. He’d never really thought he’d be attracted to a ratling woman, or at least not to this degree. If Almaya were to offer him to don that seamless illusion right now, and look like a fair-skinned elven beauty, he doubted he’d say yes. The elven sorceress was still a cold and distant woman in his mind, whereas the ratfolk girl gasping above him… well she wasn’t really warm. Not particularly friendly either. But there was a passion to her, even if it did seem fierce and almost bestial.

It was even more evident now that she wasn’t just presenting herself and demanding a hard rutting. Not now that he could see her face, even though she seemed hesitant to meet his gaze. She seemed to know her body would get what it obviously needed, and that he would keep her secret. He wasn’t sure if she needed or wanted anything more from him. She wasn’t asking him to touch her, and Logan wasn’t sure if she’d object if he did.

At some point during his musing she’d gone from just grinding back and forth to lifting those svelte hips off him, exposing no more than an inch or so of his now glistening shaft to the cool night air before enveloping him in the wet warmth of her sex. As he lay prostrate under both her and the stars, he wondered if she really was warmer than human women, or did the chill of midnight just make it seem like she was. Up and down those grey hips went, and the memory of how they’d felt in his grip only the night before seemed to make Logan’s hands rise unbidden, his palms traveling up toned thighs, running against the grain of soft fur until they were wrapped around that slender waist. When she first felt her hands on her body she looked down at him, and for a second her expression was almost comically quizzical.

But he obviously wasn’t trying to move her off him, or interfere with what she was doing, so she let it be. The hips still rose, a little higher now and landing down just a tad more forcefully, enough to make Logan wonder if she was asserting herself. Not likely, considering last night she’d assumed a definitely submissive posture, even though she was giving him orders on how to go about satisfying her. This definitely didn’t seem like rutting, but it was the first time Logan was being ridden this way. Every time before when a girl did decide to climb atop him, they wanted to drape themselves across him, seeming to savor the sensation of resting their soft young bodies on his harder one. But not Almaya. This female seemed to insist on maintaining some distance from him even in what should the most intimate moment between a man and a woman.

He doubted that she found him attractive. He remembered last night and how she’d sized him up before explaining what she needed from him. And even now she was casting her eyes down every now and again, her lips parted as she examined every part of his body save his eyes. It wasn’t love, maybe not even passion, but it did look like lust, like a desire for something more than just a brief quenching of the fire nature had kindled in her loins.

Curious about just how much liberties his bedmate was willing to give him with her body, Logan extended his thumbs and rubbed them up and down the sides of the ratling’s belly. It was trim, but without the hard muscles he knew she’d feel if she decided to return the favor. A figure kept lean by a life spent on the road, but not by the physical exertions of combat. He got no encouragement from the ratling woman who was still ridding him at a steady pace, but he also got no protest.

He was still careful as he slid his hands up, palms running along her sides until they were high enough. She caught his gaze as his hands gazed the sides of her breasts, holding it for a second before she closed them. Logan wasn’t sure what to make of it, but the soft sigh he got when he laid his palms on her firm mounds gracing her chest encouraged him to keep them there.

They were as delightful a handful as they had looked, and the first pair he’d ever laid his hands on that were covered in a fine gray fuzz. He made sure to be gentle as he squeezed them, eyes glued to the way his fingers sank just a little into the supple flesh under that fine coat of fur. His touch raised no complaints, but no reactions until his thumbs brushed against the two hard nubs and the rat-femme’s muzzle opened to emit a shuddering gasp.

Almaya thrust her chest out a little, almost but not quite faltering in her rhythm. He could see her incisors digging into her lower lip in time to stifle any more telling noises, but in the silence of midnight he could make out the muffled sounds she was making as he brushed his fingers across the sensitive nubs. She was enjoying this attention, although he wasn’t sure if he could get her to admit it.

He could see the nostrils flaring at the tip of her muzzle, could feel the pliant mounds press a little against his hands every time her chest swelled with a deep heavy breath. Her back was undulating now, the motion of that trim belly almost hypnotic as it was thrust back and forth with every rise and fall of Almaya’s hips. There was a sensuous grace to her movements that was at odds with her behavior from the night before when she’d urged him to be rougher with her than he’d ever been with a woman.

There was also little doubt that she’d get what she needed from him before he was done. Logan knew he was in the prime of his life, but he could still tell when his body was demanding rest, even if he could push it past that demand. Those physical demands kept him from reaching his peek as quickly as he might had he been fully rested, but he knew he’d find release before he found sleep.

There was little doubt Almaya had been close even before he’d started playing with her hand-filling breasts. Gone was the grinding of her lips against his crotch, and the little bounces on the shaft held in her sweltering sex. The ratling woman was now riding him for all he was worth, keeping nothing but the tip of his manhood in the clasp of her silken passage before she stabbed herself down, angling her hips so that the head of his cock would drag against the quivering walls of her sex.

Her breathing went from deep to shuddering, the muscles taking her up and down on Logan’s shaft starting to quiver and twitch. He remembered those reactions from last night, but this time he could see her face, and once he did Logan found himself unable to look away. He was still trying to wrap his mind around the notion that the elf and the rodent were the same woman when Almaya seemed to show him a third woman.

This was her, without any restraint or awareness, a gentle expression that remained once her consciousness was pushed aside by the force welling up inside her. Her eyes were lidded, looking much kinder and softer now that the woman’s brows weren’t furrowed. Her muzzle was parted, her gasps and whimpers unmuffled, her hips still rising and falling even as her steady rhythm faltered as the shuddering female lost control of her muscles along with her will. She rose again and after she’d reached her zenith both her hips and the rest of her fell down. If he had been able to resist the urge to play with her breasts, Logan knew she would have fallen over on top of him, but as it was his hands were in the ideal position to lower the shuddering ratling gently down.

The sensation of a supple furry body resting on top of his own was strange, but a much more pleasing kind of warmth than the spell Almaya used to stave off the night’s chill. Her muzzle was against his neck and he was doing his best to ignore the tickling of both her whiskers and the heat of each panting breath. When she raised it the tickling was gone but now they were both left lying there with their lips awkwardly close to each other’s.

Logan still wasn’t sure what… this… was. It seemed a bit ridiculous, but at the moment he was wondering if kissing the woman whose sex was still pulsing around him would somehow be too intimate. To his surprise Almaya took the initiative, her eyes still lidded as she leaned down another inch or two, pressing her muzzle against his. It was tentative, just a little more than a brush of their lips, but when she raised her head her eyes looked a little clearer even though he could feel by the trembling of her body she was still riding out her climax.

There was a question in those eyes, and a purpose in her hesitation. Short on breath and a little too far gone himself to really think straight, he responded by sliding his arms around her back and pressing her a little more firmly against his chest. When her mouth descended again, it was for a kiss. He felt her tongue slide past those big incisors to play with his, the smooth-skinned tail brushing against his things as it twisted behind her.

The milking clenches of her sex had been almost enough to push him over, but as her body’s convulsions calmed he knew he’d have to take over from there. Almaya was spent, but the fact she wasn’t in a rush to get off him led him to believe she wasn’t so cruel as to deny him what he’d just given her., Bracing his feet against the ground he held her tight and gave a testing buck of his hips, the ratling woman moaning into their kiss but showing no sign of disapproval.

Exhaustion forgotten for the time being, Logan began to thrust up, his grip on Almaya keeping her from bouncing more than a few inches off his shaft. The pistoning of his length within her still oversensitive honeypot was causing some strange noises to issue from the muzzle pressed against his lips, but they all sounded encouraging and her kissing was getting more enthusiastic the harder he went.

Logan wasn’t sure what this was any more. This felt a lot more natural than last night’s episode – the body writhing against his own, the tongue dipping into his mouth. He wasn’t sure who it really was on top of him, this strange woman of many masks who’d made such strange demands of him. For now it didn’t matter. Reason receded, leaving only the softness and warmth of an eager, exotic female, the friction of fur against his skin and the quivering of her sex as he drove himself into it. His grip on her tightened, her soft chest pressed flat against his hard one as her tail quivered against his legs. One hard buck nearly pushed her lips off his and as he shaft throbbed with her he felt her hands on either side of his face, the female who’d always kept everyone at a distance now holding him close. He was still pulsing within her, when they broke their kiss, desperate for air and unsure of what to say to each other.

“I’m… fine, for tonight. You should get some rest.” She said, the same woman who last night had complained of the mess he’d made of her fur before sending him from her room.

“I… I’ll do that…” he replied, since he really couldn’t think of anything else to say. They didn’t look each other in the eye as they disentangled, the ratling girl placing a hand on her mound the moment his softening shaft slipped out, obviously eager to avoid any telling stains on her bedroll.

“I’m… I’m not ungrateful.” She said, and for the first time since Logan had known her in either of her guises she sounded shy and a little awkward. “For keeping my secret and for helping me through… for helping me the way you do. But if I showed any gratitude towards you in front of the others, they might start to wonder why I’m grateful.”

“I understand…” he replied, knowing it was half a lie. He knew why she did it, but he couldn’t’ understand how she endured it…

*******

“Look, I have to ask… why do you do it?” Logan said, breaking the silence that had been filled with nothing but the two of them trying to get their breath back after another night of him helping Almaya sate her needs..

“I… you don’t mean why I’ve been laying with you, do you?” the ratling female asked, heaving a sigh when she got a shake of her partner’s head in response. “Do you have to ask? After the way you reacted when you first saw me? I mean really saw me, not Almaya?” she said, and Logan couldn’t help but wince.

“I haven’t apologized for that, have I?”

“No, we… other things got in the way.”

“I am sorry, for what it’s worth.”

“I know. You just saw what I looked like and thought I was… what? A burglar? That I’d abducted Almaya the elf?”

“Something like that, yes…” Logan admitted. He felt like a cad for saying it, but he’d have felt worse if he lied.

“Some of my people are like that. Maybe even most. I’m not sure how it came about… did we earn such a reputation, or did we just fit into an assumption everyone made about us. Doesn’t really matter, does it…” she said, getting a little more comfortable against him before continuing.

“None of my family, the people around me even believed I could learn magic. But I kept trying, harnessing the gift I was sure I possessed into little cantrips. Making the wick of a candle light up on its own had been my first success. Then pushing a cup off a table without going near it. Seems silly enough, but it was enough to make a girl think she could do the impossible. And when it became apparent I could work magic, everyone felt I was a fool for trying even harder. ‘Why bother?’ they’d say. You can lift things with your mind, walk without making a sound, change your appearance at will. A clever person could use that to make their living, if not their fortune.” She said, a bitterness creeping into her voice as she mouthed the words of her people.

“But I didn’t want to perform tricks for copper on a street corner, nor did I want to use my gift to cheat people or steal from them. I wanted to prove that one of us could be a true mage, a wielder of the Art as good as any human… or elf. As you can see, I lost my courage. Trying to fix the way my kind was perceived… I’d have to endure so much if I took that route. It looked like such a hard and painful road to take. So I figured why not use my skill – and it really was skill at that point – to craft a dweomer to robe myself in. To take on such a form that no one would ever doubt my worth or look down on me. And it wasn’t like it was a common trick. It took me over a year to finish fashioning that illusion, making it seamless and something I could summon up at will and maintain for days on end. When it was done I said my goodbyes, and left my family as what you see now and stepped into the world as Almaya the elven sorceress.”

“It’s not your real name, is it?” Logan asked.

“No. It’s Alya. And please, don’t bother with it. I don’t really have any good memories tied to it. Almaya is not me either, but… I think I can live with Alma.” She said, flashing Logan a brief smile that fell away when she continued. “But in the end I did it – I used my skill and magic to make my life easier, even if it meant trickery.”

“True… but that was a lot to take on. It shouldn’t be your responsibility to change the way others see your kind.” He said, trying to lift her spirits.

“You know who really holds on to those ideas, that rotten image? We do! My people. But it’s all how you look at it. I grew up with that garbage – how we’re not that bad off, how we’re smarter than the lot who break their backs and let others profit from their sweat while we live off our quick wits…”

Logan wondered if she’d noticed him wince. There’s people worse off than us… his father’s words, the reasoning that had kept him doing good work for meager pay. Good, honest work you could be proud of, not like those people earning their bread through grift and theft. And ironically he was one of those Alma’s people thought of as fools.

“If it makes you feel any better, it’s not much nobler being one of those who sweat for others…”

“Hmm, I know that bitter mood! Is that what set you on the life of adventure? But you seem a bit young to have spent enough years toiling for others to grow sick of it.”

“You’re right, I didn’t. But I watched my father do it. Although it wasn’t really toil – he’s a journeyman carpenter. It’s hard work, but its skilled labor.”

“Doesn’t sound that bad.”

“I suppose it wasn’t. But my father was good, good enough to be a master craftsman in his own shop. But we lived in Norhold.”

“I’ve heard of it. Bustling city by all accounts.” Alma said.

“Busting at the seams more like. Every scarp inch of space within those proud walls had been claimed long ago. With a good foundation you can build up, here and there, but a workshop takes up a lot of space on the ground floor. They all pass from father to son, and anyone who wants to work in the city works as a journeyman, even if he’s better than his master.”

“You felt you were too good or that life?” she asked, not really judging him but coaxing more of his story out of him after he’d gotten hers.

“I don’t know about myself, but I know my father was. He could have struck out to one of the trading towns, or the bustling settlements springing up along the frontier. Carpenters, coopers, wainwrights, any of them who did good work could set himself up as master of his own little workshop in a few years. He and mother would talk about it every now and again, but sooner or later they’d say ‘But those places are so far away.’ or ‘There’s no tall stone walls to keep a family safe out there.’…”

“Why take the risk? There’s so many who have it worse off than us!” they both said in unison, sour but honest smiles curving their lips as they did.

“So you made your decision, said your goodbyes, and left town as a guard with the first caravan?” Alma asked after a brief pause.

“Right on all counts but one. I wasn’t a guard, just a hired hand. I groomed the horses, fetched and chopped wood for the fires… I did anything that was asked of me until one night some goblins swarmed us while we were resting up. Everyone but the guards hid behind the carts, but I just picked up a heavy-looking branch and rushed them.” He said.

“I take it the sight of goblins didn’t make you want to rush back to the city and cower behind the walls?” the ratling said in a slightly bemused tone.

“No, although they did do their best to make as much of a racket as possible. Not for our benefit but to spook the horses. Sometimes if they make enough noise one of them might break free from the traces, figuring it has a better chance of surviving if it makes a run for it. Not that they’d let it. Goblins have no qualms about eating horse. Didn’t happen though. We routed them fast enough and the guards noticed that I’d been fighting alongside them.”

“And these men-at-arms took notice of your valor and welcomed you into their fold?”

“Not quite. They weren’t all that happy since they knew they’d have been blamed if I got wounded or killed. I think most of them thought I was a fool for doing it. One of the veterans called Warrick told me that I was a fool but that he couldn’t help me with that. So he had me whittle one large branch into a cudgel and taught me how to fight. Most warriors, he argued were fools because they ran towards danger rather than away. So he gave me my first bruises and when I kept coming back for more he kept drilling me. When we got to the next town I spent every copper I’d earned on an iron mace and a shield made of wood so green it still smelled like pine resin. From then on I was a caravan, at least for the next two years. Once I’d earned enough for some decent armor, I struck out on my own.”

“Ever been back to see your family?” she asked idly.

“Not recently, but caravans go through Norhold all the time, so I used to drop by often enough.” He said. He almost made the mistake of asking Alma if she’d been around to see hers, but the wistful look in her eyes warned him it might be a mistake. Instead he just held her while she made herself comfortable against him. It didn’t seem very helpful, but he supposed he was doing her a favor by just being someone she could be herself around…

*******

It was the fifth day of Almaya’s heat, and Logan had been woken for his watch by the naked sorceress crawling under his blanket. She was obviously tired but her hands worked quickly to free his member and help him give her what she needed in order to rest. It was a bizarre sort of relationship, and one that was getting harder and harder to disguise from their traveling companions. The ratling female even now stroking and squeezing his cock, sighing as she felt it swell and harden under her touch remained aloof and distant even to him.

But during these peculiar night-time interludes she was showing some form of comfortable familiarity, if not warmth. She was obviously assured that Logan was keeping her secret, and he supposed it must feel good for her to be able to drop the illusion she wore in front of someone. He couldn’t help but wonder what would happen in a few days when her heat passed and her body no longer forced her to seek out the one male she could be herself with.

Logan had been lying on his side and was wondering how to proceed after Alma’s ministrations had gotten him hard and ready, but the ratling sorceress merely turned her back and sidled up against him. Not a position that gave either of them a lot of room to move, but a sensible one. Unlike her, Logan slept close to the fire along with Tass and Tobias, and with his back turned to the two his bulk enough to wall off the grey-furred body pressed up against him.

He felt Almaya drape her tail over his legs, her back arching as she sought to bring herself within reach. One of her legs lifted a little and her hand reached back, gently grasping him and guiding him to the now familiar warmth of the strange female’s slippery sex. She gasped softly as her folds parted and several inches of his length slid smoothly in, one round ear twitching as she tensed up, worried that the sound might have woken their companions.

He could feel her relax around him once those keen ears told her they were still safe, but she made sure to keep her muzzle closed as she thrust her rear out, engulfing as much of him as their position would allow. Logan rested his weight on one elbow while he wrapped his other arm around her before starting to move his hips back and forth. Her hair was unbound and he had to brush aside some of the unruly locks to bare her neck, burring his face in it and coaxing a few muffled but telling noises from his mate.

He found himself enjoying the scent of her fine gray fur, catching something sweet and vaguely spice-like in it, a contrast to the unsubtle appeal of the musk now kept contained by the blanket covering them. She’d explained that it was the effect it was meant to have – unlike human females, ratfolk women weren’t fertile every month of the year, so their bodies had a way of ensuring male interest in those periods when they were. She said that during her first heat she’d been terrified that the humans and more human-like people would immediately catch on what she was by smell alone. She’d worn a linen cloth folded around strong-smelling herbs just to mask her scent before realizing she needn’t bother. She’d apparently never realized that her kind had a much keener sense of smell.

Which was why, Logan had learned, she made sure to keep away from her kind. That, she claimed was the easy part – what elf would want to be seen consorting with ratlings? She explained that the harder part was being an elf who avoided the company of other elves. Alma had learned to read and write Elvish, and could even speak it well enough as far as Logan could tell, but she was sure that any of the Fair Folk could hear the flaws in her speech and wonder who she really was.

Logan, for his part, wondered who Alma was going to be. She was still very much in the prime of youth, something that was quite obvious with her nubile body pressed against him. She had years to make up her mind, but he wondered if she could be happy with something like this – spending her heats on a male she was confident couldn’t leave her with child. She knew that it wasn’t every woman’s desire to have children. It was hard to imagine Tass settling down into the role of a wife and mother, but the roguish girl was happy enough to let the wind blow her where it will and to take what amusement she could from life. If Alma had been that happy to be a creature of impulse she wouldn’t be what she was now – an accomplished mage and (baring him) a very lonely person.

He supposed they were strange thoughts to have in such an intimate moment, but when they were together like this he couldn’t help but think of anything other than her, and when he thought of her he couldn’t help but think of anything else but what sort of life she’d built for herself. The thoughts, he knew would slip, as reason dimmed and their soft touches and slow gyrations gave way to something wilder and more desperate.

Logan focused instead on the fact he was in a position to give the ratling woman some of the affection and comfort she’d denied herself by living her life cloaked in an illusion. He let his hand slide up, gliding over the furry belly and feeling the muscles quiver under his palm. His touch was more confident by now since even though he couldn’t always understand the way he acted, he’d learned of her body’s needs, and its responses.

He didn’t miss her sigh, or the way her big round ears had flicked as his hand closed on one firm breast, his fingers slowly digging into the pliant flash until he felt her sex flex around him. He kept up thrusting into her, building as much speed as he could lying on his side, giving her body what it needed but also making sure to give her what he was sure she wanted. As his length slid in and out of her dripping sex he made sure to plant little kisses on her neck, and to play with the nipple he felt grow from firm to hard against his palm.

He could feel her push her chest out against his hand and didn’t miss the way she stretched her neck out, eager for every bit if affectionate stimulation he could provide. It would have seemed almost greedy to some, but knowing how starved she was for love (or even these secretive night-time encounters) he couldn’t fault her for it. Couldn’t really return the favor with her back turned to him, but she responded by moving her own hips, trying to drive them back every time he pushed into her.

Slowly at first, but Alma built up steam as her arousal mounted, sliding off him every time he withdrew from the clinging sex so that he could plunge back in with toe curling force. He was starting to think Alma was getting a bit carried away, and was proven right when she slid far enough for his tip to slip from her dripping lips.

She’d been close and was almost mewling in frustration as she sought to find Logan’s shaft with trembling fingers, desperate to guide him back into the quivering honeypot that had been pulsing around the girthy invader only a moment ago. Logan did his best to help her, poking blindly against soft fur unit he felt his spongy tip press against bare skin. He held her close as he pushed back in, sliding his cock into the heat-swollen sex as Alma just barely bit of something that sounded suspiciously like a squeak.

She was tight, so much that even with the juices covering every inch of his length it took some effort to hilt himself, and for a few seconds Logan was sure that just the act of sliding back into her had triggered the rat-girl’s climax. Her muscles always clamped down hard just as it hit her, going rigid before they started the milking caresses meant either to help draw a male’s seed deeper in, or failing that to coax him to his own peak. The fact she was laboring to draw in even a shuddering breath made him sure that this was the case, but when she began to make little pained noises and his shaft remained in a firm grip, he began to wonder.

“Are you all right?” he whispered into one ear, soft enough that (hopefully) only she could hear.

“Ahhh… I’m fine… your aim isn’t…” she said, and with heat rising to his face Logan slid his hand down her tummy and over her mound. His fingers easily found the wet folds, still parted and with nothing between them.

“Oh! Sorry, I’ll…” he began, both apologizing and sliding out of the snug tail-hole gripping him hard enough to make it difficult.

“Wait. Wait just a… just stroke me…” she husked, lifting her leg a little to make it clear which part of her wanted attention.

Logan was a bit confused by her insistence that he remain inside… that he remain where he was, but considering what he’d done he felt like he owed her to do as she asked. He stroked his fingers across the gently parted slit he’d been sure he’d found with his blind stabs only a moment ago and as he did he felt Alma relax both against him and around him. He ran his fingers against the smooth, soft labia, brushed his palm against the little hood at the top of her sex that seemed to be as sensitive on a ratling’s body as any other woman he’d ever been with. And as Alma’s noises grew less strained he dipped a finger carefully in, still unsure of her intent but guessing what she wanted from him.

When her hips began to shift he was sure she just wanted help in getting her rear-end to relax so she could slide off, but the firm cheeks weren’t really going anywhere. She was just grinding her rump against him, the pucker he’d inadvertently invaded now only clenching up at random rather than holding him in a vise-like grip.

“Alma, wha… are you…?” Logan tried to ask, but found himself embarrassed to even say it out loud. He’d never imagined a woman enjoying something like this, and was worried about accusing Alma that she was.

“I’m close, and this… this works. Just keep doing what you’re doing and let me do the rest…” she said, making odd little noises as she did.

So Logan kept ‘doing what he was doing’. He let his finger slip deeper in, felt a little gush of Almaya’s juices against his hand as the love-starved sex welcomed anything hard and warm. He poked around inside her, focusing on the little nooks and crannies that once rubbed made the ratling sorceress bite her lip. All the while his palm remained pressed against her mound, and all the while Alma kept swiveling her hips and grinding herself against him.

She was managing to slide a little bit off him every time, and to Logan’s surprise kept pushing back until he could feel the base of her tail against his crotch every time those cheeks grew flush with his hips. The sounds she was trying to muffle were a little different, with an occasional grunt mixing with the soft sighs that always told him she was enjoying what he was doing. He never knew anyone could enjoy this, at least from Alma’s end.

From his point of view, Logan could see a definite appeal. He remembered the first time he’d seen the rodential rump he was now inadvertently inside of, the first day he’d seen Alma without her illusion on and the interrupted sorceress wound up presenting herself for him like an animal in heat. His mind conjured up the image of her round rear, the two firm cheeks and the tiny pink ring visible between them. It was hard to imagine that same winking orifice now stretched taut around him, but it seemed that the longer he stayed inside alma the less objectionable she found the unintended penetration.

“So does it actually feel… good?” he whispered, although the way she was pushing back against him made it obvious.

“Nghhh-yes! Just keep… keep… mnghhhh!” she mewled out before her body tensed up against him.

He felt the ring of flesh twitch around his girth, felt the walls of her sex flutter around his finger before the steamy honeypot gushed gently against his hand. Almaya was obviously riding out a climax, but this one hadn’t stopped her from moving. She was still sliding back and forth on his shaft, thrusting her rear out as hard as she could every time and ensuring she took every inch of Logan under her tail. He waited for her energy to ebb, and to see if she’d allow him to finish once it did, but the ratling woman never stopped moving.

“Don’t stop…just… just keep… like that!” she panted, the breathy, desperate tone making him twitch within the snug confines of her shapely behind.

Logan didn’t really need much urging to keep going. His hand rubbed, his finger pumped until it was joined by a second one, and his teeth clenched every once in a while when Alma made muffled whimpering noises and her pucker clenched up hard around him. This went on for some time, and by the time Logan was at the end of his fuse his hand was a cramped mess. He pushed two fingers knuckle-deep into the mewling ratling, her pucker pulsing and winking around him as he shot his seed under the panting girl’s tail. When the flow of his seed ebbed she placed one hand on the one palming her sex, keeping him still and letting him know that she was, mercifully, finished as well.

“You know, when I realized I’d… missed, I was sure you’d claw my eyes out… Alma?” he whispered once his shaft softened and slipped from the no longer virginal pucker, but Alma offered no reply but a soft and steady rise of her chest.

Doing the best he could in the dim light, Logan cleaned the sleeping sorceress and carefully carried her back to her bedroll. It seemed a bit callous after what they’d done, but it wouldn’t do for the rest of the party to see the Lady Almaya sharing a bedroll with him, especially since she might have trouble sitting down tomorrow…

*******

“What?” Logan asked, since he could no longer pretend Tobias and Tass weren’t staring at him.

“I can’t believe it…” the girl said.

“You’ve missed the whole thing. Almaya just went and did her private room routine, and you managed to go through it without the vein in your forehead pulsing or your eye twitching.” Tobias said.

They’d reached the little frontier town of Wainsport and were looking forward to a night in actual beds, which had always meant that Almaya would insist on a room of her own, no matter what the price or what the size. The truth was that now that Logan knew why she needed the privacy he couldn’t berate her for it, even though she’d insisted they go on just as before.

“This isn’t some lonely inn on a cold night. I’m sure there’s plenty of rooms in this town, and if she wants one now no one will miss it much.” Logan said, hoping it sounded plausible.

“Hmm. Suppose you’re right. I thought for a moment you were both going soft.” Tass said.

“What do you mean, both?”

“Well it seemed to us that Almaya had grown from being cold and distant to merely politely aloof.” Tobias noted.

“Yeah, surprised you didn’t notice…” the young woman said, and Logan wondered if the remark was really as innocent as it sounded. Tass could be innocent at times, but by her own admission she tried not to make a habit of it. “But I guess some things just don’t change.” She mused, watching the haughty elf ascend the stairs.

Logan had remained silent and had been relieved when the conversation shifted away from Almaya’s behavior. The three of them stayed, talking to each other and trading news and rumors with the other patrons of the inn. Sleep had initially come quickly to Logan, even though he still wasn’t sure if Alma expected anything from him, a thought that carried over into his dreams. They seemed to grow vivid, a vision of her slipping into his bed even though the reverse would seem more likely. From there the dream went from vivid to graphic until Logan’s heartbeat rose to the point his body could no longer remain unconscious. Since he hadn’t had a dream quite so engrossing since his body had first started to change from that of a boy to that of a man, Logan crept out of bed and down the narrow hallway to confirm his suspicions. Just as he thought, Alma’s door was unlocked, and the ratling mage was seated on her bed, apparently waiting for him.

“I know we’ve grown closer in the past few days, but that was crossing a line.” He said, suprising the grey-furred sorceress with the obvious irritation in his tone.

“What do you mean?”

“You can’t… you can’t just invade someone’s dreams like that! You wouldn’t enter someone’s room without knocking first, let alone someone’s mind…”

“Like you knocked on my door just now?” she asked, and now she seemed bemused by his behavior.

“That’s… I didn’t think you’d want anyone to see me coming in here. And why are you smiling?” he demanded, face to face with an infuriatingly smug grin the ratling was wearing.

“I didn’t invade your mind. Quite frankly that’s a little beyond my abilities. I just used a sending to influence the shape your dreams took. I wanted a subtle way to wake you and let you know I wanted to talk to you. A nightmare would have done the trick, but it seemed mean-spirited and wouldn’t have put you in the mood I was hoping for. So I shaped something else and hoped it would make you restless enough to wake. Based on that I know the sort of dream you had, but the details were provided by your own dreaming mind. So if you saw me while you were sleeping, I didn’t invade your dream. You put me there.”

“I… I’m sorry.” Logan said, going from irate to embarrassed.

“Well, it was a gentler entrance than the last time you walked into my room…” she said, apparently determined to see how red the young man’s cheeks could get.

“So I take it you needed me here, and in a certain kind of mood?”

“Well yes and… maybe not ‘needed’. At least not like that…” she said, looking less self-satisfied and a little awkward as she continued. “You helped me… helped me through my heat. I’m fine now, at least for a few more months, but I thought… I always used to feel comfortable at night, when I managed to get some privacy and just be who I am. It was enough, enough to make me face another day of living a secret. I never really intended to let anyone know who I was, but now that someone does and we’ve been spending time together… suddenly just being me on my own seems a little… lonely.”

“But wasn’t it? Until that first time I caught you?” Logan asked.

“It was… but I’d gotten used to it. I’ve accepted that was the way it was until I came up with something better. It had seemed like something I could live with for as long as I needed to.” Alma said, stumbling to find words as her eyes seemed to have a hard time meeting his. “I know it doesn’t seem much of a life, now that I tell it to someone. I knew it wasn’t, but then so many have it worse, right?” she said forcing a weak smile, although there was something in her voice that suggested she was close to tears.

Logan tried to imagine living the way she lived, but just couldn’t picture how he’d last as long as she did. He knew he wasn’t a very personable sort, not like Tass and Tobias who saw a new friend in most strangers’ faces. As far as relationships went, Logan supposed he was like stony soil – it took something persistent to dig in and push its roots into him, but anything that did was usually stuck firm and there to stay. He didn’t make friends easily, so he supposed that helped him treasure those he had. And Alma had spent years living a life where she would end up completely alone each and every night, without a soul to talk to. And that was the highlight of each day…

“Look, it’s hard for me to talk about this. I don’t need you because my body needs you anymore… but I feel like I still need you. Because if I lose you… than I’ll have no one, again.” She said, her voice a little shaky and her tail lashing behind her as she admitted that for what must be the first time in ages she felt like she depended on another person.

The last time she’d told him she needed him she hadn’t seemed like this. There had been no real vulnerability. And as long as he’d kept her secret, he knew that she could have gotten through her heat the way she’d gone through every other. That had been simple – she needed him and she was sure that fulfilling her needs would prove rewarding enough for him. As she waited for a reply she didn’t look like she had any idea what she’d do if he turned her down.

She looked… pitiful, if he was being honest. Every vestige of the proud, cold elven sorceress was gone, leaving behind this girl who looked unsure of who she was and of how she’d face life. But it wasn’t pity that made him sit down next to her. This hopeful yet frightened girl looked like someone he’d glimpsed before. Not even during those few talks they had, the unburdening about the paths that had led them to this life had he seen her like this. Even telling her story, Alma had looked like she stood by the choices she’d made, that she’d mastered her regrets. He’d only glimpsed her like this on those occasions measured in moments when all masks shattered and all reason fled, and hiding anything behind your eyes became impossible.

His hand moved to cover hers, a timid gesture and an almost absurd one considering what they’d done with each other’s bodies in the past week. She tensed up for a moment before twining his fingers with his. He looked into her face and saw a third woman, one that was completely unlike the distant elf, or the ratling demanding a male. Her lips were parted, incisors a little shite flash between twitching whispers and perked ears.

He could feel his own heart beating faster, the expectant grey-furred face growing larger until he realized he was leaning over her. When their lips met the kiss was soft and tentative yet strong enough to claim them both. They’d allowed themselves a few of them, in the heat of the moment, when it was easy to pretend it was nothing more than a part of a male coupling with a female. Her hand rose to cup his cheek, her palm as soft as her lips and the sigh she released into their kiss.

Their hands roamed their bodies as if for the first time, spurred on by a new interest. He knew the lush delights of the chest even now rising and falling with Alma’s every breath, but instead he settled for cupping the back of her neck, keeping her lips pressed to his even though he wasn’t sure what could have parted them at this point, Her palm slid down, along his collar, laid flat against his chest where he had little doubt she could feel his heart beating wildly. Enough to encourage her, since the ratfolk femme soon had her nimble fingers working blindly, loosening the laces holding his shirt closed. The two took their time because there was no desperation now. The greatest need of either of them was now curiosity, the desire to learn more of the one they are opening their heart to.

It was hardly innocent – they were after all both young and their bodies were responding to every caress and stroke in a familiar way- but this would go deeper. It felt almost like their first time together even though they had mated wildly every night since Logan had walked in on Almaya while she’d been trying to sate the cravings her heat had imposed on her. Logan was still kissing her after he’d laid her down, her big round ears almost swallowed by the mess of wavy red hair, her arms and her eyes beckoning to him.

He bent down to kiss her again, her back arching to press her body closer to his, the tail pinned under her for the most part thrashing in an unsubtle signal of her excitement. Taking his time Logan kissed her chin, then her neck, her hand on the back of his head as he slid lower, brushing his lips against her collar-bone. When he’d reached her lush mounds his nostrils flared as he took a lungful of her scent, the sweet fragrance of her fur combined with a feminine musk that had grown subtler now that she wasn’t in heat. When he pressed his mouth to one nipple he heard her gasp, her fingers digging into the hair on the back of his head as she pressed him against her breast. He felt the nipple grow stiff between his lips, and remembering how sensitive the rat-femme’s chest was he began to kiss the nub and flick his tongue over it.

Every time Alma took a ragged breath her chest expanded and the firm mound was pushed a little bit against his face, Logan’s right hand resting on the other furry breast while his left traveled further down. Soft fur over soft skin and what he now realized was a soft girl under it all, one that after a long and lonesome road had found the courage to let someone get close enough to love her. His fingers dug little furrows in the small tuft just above her mound when the tips slid across bare skin, soft and yielding to the slightest touch.

The plump labia were dry, but as he gave the silky slit a few rubs he felt wetness seep from between them. While in heat Alma’s libido went into overdrive, her urges mounting during the day no matter what she did until they were ready to drive her mad by the time night fell, making her need a male. She didn’t need him now. Instead she wanted him, driven to this by something stronger even than instinct.

He could feel her nuzzling the top of his head, sniffing his hair while he rubbed between her legs, feeling the heat build up against his palm before he slipped a finger in. A gasp sounded, soft but close enough to his ear that he could feel the heat of her breath. He pushed his finger knuckle deep before curling it, seeking out the little knot on the otherwise soft walls of her sex. Finding the spot he pressed his fingertip against it, feeling Alma tense up against him. He kept his middle finger on that spot, giving it a few gentle rubs as the other digits pressed into the smooth skin of her lips and his palm brushed against the hood at the top of her increasingly wet flower. She let him go on or about a minute, her noises becoming higher in pitch and urgency until she gave him a little nip on his ear to single him she was more than ready.

Considering how bizarre their earlier encounters had seemed, this should have been familiar – him getting into position on top of a panting girl, sparkling eyes fixed on his own and lips parted expecting to be kissed shut. This was how he’d always felt lovemaking should be like, but this simple and intimate act had never held him with the intensity he now felt. He leaned down until his lips were within reach of Alma’s muzzle, the panting ratling raising her head to plant a kiss on his lips before slowly lowering it and almost pulling him down into her embrace. He made sure to be gentle as he rested his body on top of hers, even though he knew the soft willowy form under him had taken savage ruttings mere days before.

He knew she wasn’t going to ask him to go harder this time, and the heat wasn’t the reason. There would be no need to make this a purely physical thing, a trading of favors to be forgotten in the morning, at least until the demands of the flesh grew too great once again. He felt her reach down between them, deft fingers finding the almost painfully hard erection, a brief caress until his length was guided against the soft, glistening folds that opened up for him.

He felt her petals part around him, both of her hands now on the side of his face, framing it as she stared into his eyes. Logan kept gazing into hers, catching the way they opened wider once he slid in, the pupils contracting as awareness shifted inward for a second. They soon came back, and looking down at her Logan felt like he could fall into those eyes, a peculiar notion of danger that did little to deter him. He was after all, one of those people who ran towards danger rather than away, and this time the notion didn’t strike him as foolish.

He pushed himself in gently even though he knew the limits of Alma’s body by now. They’d mated before, fiercely and a few times even passionately, but never really lovingly. They’d kept a distance between them even while they were joined in such an intimate way, a notion so ridiculous he knew he could never explain it to someone without sounding crazed.

He knew how her body responded when she needed him – the hunger, the heavy breaths, the shuddering of muscles under supple skin. It was different now, her sex molding itself to him, seeming to draw him in without desperation. Desire rather than need, and an altogether softer passion now ruled the woman gasping as she gazed up at him both of them so lost they were surprised when his hips met her loins.

Her arms rose like snakes obeying a charmer’s pipe, one wrapping around his chest and the other going under his shoulder until she had her palm on the back of his head. She pressed her lips to his again, her tongue slipping under those buck teeth to play with his own. He could feel her heartbeat through the firm breast pressed against his chest, and was sure she could feel his through the masculine length held tight by her silken sex.

For a time she seemed content to just hold him like that, but soon enough her walls were clenching and loosening around him, her hips moving just enough for his shaft to rub against her insides. It was subtle enough that he couldn’t be sure she knew she was doing it, but it was coaxing a response from him. His own hips began to move, also little by little until they broke their kiss to catch their breath and found that little by little their bodies had slipped from their control. He was pulling more and more of himself from her on every stroke, a gentle slide that had her folds clinging to the now glistening length before he slid himself back in with one smooth stroke that ended with her toes curling and the dull claws on her fingers digging a little into his back.

The strokes were long, but slow, their breathing deep and their sighs soft. He felt Alma clench a little around him as the ratling girl lifted her legs, letting him slide just a little deeper in. On every stroke he could feel the hairs at the base of his shaft press into the soft wet skin of her sex, and the tip of his cock press gently against the barrier to her womb. She’d been at the peak of fertility the past week, and in spite of what they’d done he knew no fruit of their union was growing in there. It had seemed a convenient thing only a day ago, but now it was a sad intrusion on their joy. If Alma was to be a mother one day it was not going to be with him.

The thought was driven from him with a kiss from the panting woman under him, a loving gesture so well timed he wondered if she’d read his mind and saw the blot of worry in it. Even if he couldn’t’ mate with her, Logan knew he could be a mate to her, to love her as she deserved to be loved. He saw her whiskers twitch, her gasps muffled by their joined lips as she let the moment carry her.

Logan felt the legs that had been hanging in the air wrap around him, the arms holding him tight until the svelte form was clinging to him. She was caressing him with her entire body, enfolding him just as she enfolded the shaft sliding in and out of the fluttering slit between her legs. When the demand for air grew too great to ignore she broke their kiss, keeping her eyes on his even as they grew glassy and lidded.

“Come… I want to... I want us… together…” she mumbled, her voice breathy and her meaning obvious.

Every night before she’d pushed herself to give her body what it desired, but now Logan could tell she was fighting her urges, keeping them in check for as long as she could. His hips sped up on his own, his thrust less gentle but still loving as he worked to give his mate what she wanted. Alma was panting with her muzzle next to his ear, whispering little encouragements that didn’t need words at this point. The sound of her husky voice ran through his ears and sank in until the room melted away and nothing felt real apart from the woman clinging to him, her fur soft against him and the sweet scent of hers filling his lungs and his mind.

“Yes! Logan I… I…” she gasped when she felt the tattle-tale swelling of his head within her, but what breath she’d managed to catch wasn’t sufficient for speech.

“I love you too Alma…” he grunted, the claws digging into his back telling him he’d correctly guessed what she’d wanted to say.

He drove himself in one final time and held still, his blood pounding in his ears as the ratling woman clinging to him shuddered in her own climax. He felt himself release inside her, her walls caressing the throbbing length as they both lost themselves in the bliss of the moment. It seemed to last longer than it had any right to, a perfect moment held in suspension. They only really came to when his shaft shrank enough to slip from Alma’s folds, the ratling girl slowly disentangling herself from her human lover. Logan figured she’d appreciate her weight off her, but the moment he’d rolled onto his back Alma sidled up and draped herself on top of him.

“I’ll have to be gone before morning, you know…” he said, trying not to smile to wide. The last time they’d shared a room she’d shown him out the moment they’d finished. Now she looked like she was getting comfy.

“Still hours left before dawn. I don’t think either of us has something like that left in them, but stay a while.” She murmured, and he wrapped an arm around her to let her know he’d linger as long as he could.

“So, what happens come sunrise?” he asked.

“I… I’m sorry Logan. I don’t want you to share in the lie I live, but I’m just not ready yet. I’ve… I’ve lived with this so long, building it up around me like a wall…”

“And you still feel safe inside it?” he asked.

“I do. But you are on the other side. Our life together is. It will have to come down but you’ll need to be patient with me. I promise that whenever we’re alone I’ll show you enough love to make up for ignoring you during the day.”

“It’s not just me. Tass and Tobias are good people. They’d be your friends if you let them. If you aren’t ready to throw away Almaya the elf, why not just make her a warmer person? More like Alma?”

“Maybe. I don’t want to push people away. I never wanted to be alone. But I didn’t want anyone looking down on me either. I felt like if I let people get close enough, sooner or later I’d relax enough to be who I am. And I’m not an elf…”

“You don’t need to be.”

“I know. Can… can you let me take it slow? Please? I’d like to try being a kinder Almaya before I let anyone… before I let Tass and Tobias meet Alma.”

*******

“That one’s fine. Did it get you anywhere else?” Tobias asked, fussing with Tass forearm, the human girl kneeling so that he was on eye-level with her.

“Don’t think so. It’s just scratches anyway…” she replied.

“Yes, from a ghoul, so each one needs to be healed properly…” the Halfling insisted.

“Don’t remind me. The foulest breath I’d ever smelled. What do those things eat?” she asked with a sour face.

“The dead.” Logan replied while Almaya eagerly and carefully went through a case of scrolls. Morag’s tower had been looted, some time ago, and the scorch marks and blast areas they’d seen attested to thieves to careless with the sort of traps a wizard leaves behind. But whoever had been to the crumbing tower before them had not been able to pierce the illusion hiding the entry to the lower levels. They’d yielded a rich looking haul, even if they had to fight through some of the wizard’s long-abandoned guards and/or experiments.

“That looks like all of them.” Tobias said, releasing Tass’ wrist.

“Hmm, stopped his examination before he’d even gotten to anything worth poking. Sign of a true healer I guess…” she said, pulling her torn sleeve down before taking a closer look at the baubles she’d stowed away in her satchel. Their mage was convinced the sheets of parchment she was going through would prove the true bounty, but Tass was busily surveying the things that gleamed and glittered. Currently she was examining a small silver-wrought jewelry box which once opened seemed full of bits of raw wool gone to mold.

“Ooh, this looks nice. Why bother keeping in moldering old fluff?” the girl wondered as she lidted a intricately carved bauble from it.

“Careful, that’s a sphere of annulment! Mages use it when fighting other mages to…” Almaya began but was cut off by Tass when one of her fingers punched through the sphere as it was a dry old eggshell.

“Aww suck on a succubus! I guess that’s why you keep it in…” the girl swore, lifting her eyes from the now worthless fragments and gasping in shock as they focused on Almaya. Tobias looked much the same and in a flash of inspiration their looks told him what the carefully packed away item was used for. After all, a wizards fighting a wizard would need a quick way of striping their opponent’s protective spells.

He’d come to the conclusion a fraction of a second before the ratling mage. Almaya had looked from the stares of her companions to her own hand, and had frozen once she saw the grey fur covering it. Logan imagined that someone waking to find a hissing viper next to their pillow might look like that, and wondered how many nightmares Alma had been visited with that started like this. They would have been bad ones too. He could think of nothing else that could have kept her from opening up to anyone, ones that had nurtured a fear so deep the only person who knew about her secret was one that found out by accident.

Her breathing was rapid and when her eyes lost focus Logan was half-sure she was going to faint. Instead he saw the air around her glitter and shimmer, a glamour of smooth skin starting to spread over grey fur before in a single breath it vanished. It had been a reflex, and a telling one – in panic, Alma’s first instinct had been to shroud herself once again in the sterling visage of Almaya. Logan wasn’t sure what had stopped her, but he imagined it was the look on his face when he saw her’s change. It wasn’t the first time he’d seen her do it, and he realized he resented the illusion as much as he’d resented the ‘Lady Almaya’. It was a sign that the woman he loved was going away, hidden behind an illusion he felt was nowhere near as beautiful. He was happy at the thought of seeing the last of ‘her’, and it must have shown in his face.

“This… this is me. I’m not an elf, obviously. It… that illusion used to be my pride, my greatest accomplishment as a mage. I wore it so… so that people would look up to me instead of looking down. I’m sorry I lied to you…”

“Well bugger me with…” Tass began, but stopped once a Halfling elbow tactfully jabbed her in the ribs.

“I won’t look down on you Almaya. My faith and my height prevent me from doing so.” Tobias said, giving the still terrified Alma a warm and honest smile.

“Is that even your name?” Tass asked.

“No, you... you can call me Alma.” She said, her breathing growing steadier and her expression softening.

“So keeping yourself apart, insisting on a room to yourself…” Tobias said, his smile faltering as he realized just how much of a price the ratling woman had paid to maintain the illusion.

“I couldn’t let anyone get close. I figured an elf could get away with it. Seeming aloof rather than cold. Anything, just so long as people didn’t see what was underneath…”

“I’m… I’m sorry for breaking that thing… but I’m also not, y’know?” Tass said, a sympathetic smile on the mouth that so often spouted creative obscenities. “Logan, you still to shocked to comment? Can’t imagine your mourning the loss of Lady Almaya…” she said, and the smile she flashed him wasn’t kind. It was a grin to make a devil weary…

“I’ve known. For a few weeks now. I learned about it by chance, and kept her secret… and ours.” He said, turning to look at the woman beside him. On unspoken agreement, he took her hand in his.

The looks they got were decidedly different. Tobias smiled, and even though he was the sort to take joy in the happiness of his friends, one would have expected some surprise. Tass’ face turned so dour that for a moment he wondered if she’d been attracted to him. That was until she shifted the bitter gaze to the Halfling beside her. Tobias, unmoved by the eyes stabbing daggers, extended a hand palm up. And when Tass began to fish out a purse from her bodice, it became clear.

“You didn’t?” he asked.

“The hell I didn’t! And I was ten days short of winning!” she replied.

“Nine, actually…” replied the beatific Tobias, still awaiting payment.

“See? Just my luck… damn sphere of analment…”

“Annulment.” Logan corrected her.

“I know what I said! Here!” she said, laying a stack of about two dozen silver coins in the Halfling’s palm.

“Charitable donations to the temple reflect well upon the soul of the giver…” Tobias said piously, while stashing his winnings.

“They better…”

“You knew?” Alma asked, getting over her shock.

“Well it was kind of hard not to notice something. Now don’t get me wrong, we didn’t peep or anything like that…” she said.

“I know for a fact one of us didn’t even try…” Tobias added, baiting Tass out of habit.

“But you two used to get along slightly better than an orc and a dwarf would. Don’t get me wrong, you did try and act the parts, but when Almaya no longer had Logan grinding his teeth, we became suspicious.”

“But all bets aside, we were happy for you. And we’re very happy to meet Alma.” The Halfling said, as candid as always.

“So what are you going to do now? Regarding the rest of the world?” Tass asked.

“Well it will be some time before we’re back anywhere near civilization. I guess I’ve got until then to get comfortable being me.” The ratling said. It still scared her to face the world without the shielding lie she’d woven, but she didn’t want to draw two new people into her lie. She wondered if anyone would miss Lady Almaya, since she knew for a fact she wouldn’t.

*******

“Morning.” Logan said, gazing into Alma’s eyes as they blinked open. “I’m sorry to wake you…”

“Don’t be. It’s obviously morning, and I’ve slept enough. Besides, waking up next to you still hasn’t lost its charm.” She said, giving him a beck on the lips as she blinked the sleep from her eyes.

“Tobias has some salt pork in the pan, should be ready by the time you…” he began but stopped when a strange expression crossed Alma’s face just before she scrambled out of her bedroll. She made a mad dash and managed to reach the nearby bushed just before she fell t her knees and heaved.

Logan actually breathed into his palm and sniffed to check if he was the cause. And granted, hard-tack soaked in salty pork-fat wasn’t much of a meal, but Alma (and even Almaya) had eaten it often enough not to be repulsed by the idea. He ran over to the ratling with a flask of water, and after a drink she insisted she was fine. The queasy look on her face made Logan doubt her words, and once he entrusted the grease-spitting slabs of pork to Tass, Tobias came over to examine her. Clutching the talisman of his faith the Halfling prayed to Medard to bestow the gift of good health on Alma. As he finished his prayer there was no tell-tale glow of the vital energies summoned, but the smile on his face wasn’t the expression of a priest whose god had just turned his back on him.

“I’m afraid I can’t really heal you Alma, but the good news is this will pass in due time…” he said.

“How much time?” the mage asked, suspicious regarding that grin.

“Oh, all in all I think seven, maybe eight months. And let me be the first to congratulate you!”

“Congratulate… you mean?” Logan asked. The smiling head nodded.

“But it can’t… how is that even possible?” Alma asked, her mind whirling as it listed off the days and weeks. She had been due for her heat… what was it – a week ago? Two weeks?

“Well you’re right to be surprised. It’s nothing short of miraculous, but the gods have been known to answer the prayers of couples who need a miracle. I take it neither of you have been praying?” he asked.

“No.” Logan said, feeling almost ashamed that he hadn’t.

“To my gods? Of course not!” Alma said more empathically, drawing a confused look from the young man beside her.

“The ratfolk believe their gods are all too eager to answer the prayers of the faithful, but never free of charge.” Tobias said, drawing four surprised eyes. “Serving the Wayfarer god takes one all sorts of places with all sorts of people. I had a chance to learn a bit of the deities Alma’s people worship.”

“The great heroes of ratling myth were people who managed to strike a bargain with one of our gods or goddesses, tricking them into granting a boon that was more valuable than it first seemed. They would win fame and fortune and easily pay what they promised.” Alma explained. “All a moot point when a person doesn’t pray.”

“True, but not all gods are passive. The deities of love and the affairs of the heart tend to take an active interest in mortals, and the ratfolk goddess of love is also the goddess of mischief. Apparently falling in love tends to make people forget most if not all reason, providing said goddess with guilt-free amusement. Personally, I like to respond to my blessings with gratitude, rather than suspicion…” he said, a subtle pious reprimand that did help the two focus on what was truly important to them.

“Hey, does this look badly burnt to you?” Tass asked, advancing towards the trio with a smoking pan in her hands, obviously trying to find the most flattering angle for the contents. The moment the smoke reached Alma’s nose her face once again took on a greenish cast.

“Yeah, I thought so too…” Tass said, eyeing the blackened contents of the pan with distaste.

“Come Tass, let’s give these two a moment alone, and I’ll tell you what you did wrong this time…” Tobias said, rising and dragging along the girl who was protesting that she never claimed she knew how to cook.

Once the ruins of breakfast were gone Alma got her composure and her color back. Logan kissed her between her ears before sitting on the grass next to her, just holding the future mother of his child close as they let the reality of the revelation sink in.

“I…” Alma began, looking down at a hand held against her belly and the life growing within it. ”I’ll try and make the world a kinder place. I’ll do my best… but no matter what, I’ll never let you hide yourself like I did…”