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Five seasons she had, in the heart of the wood. And the honor of raising two young fawns to weaning age, when their mother was taken by a wolf. The cool mud surrounding her was soothing, particularly on her swollen teats. She sorely missed the fawns, but they could take care of themselves now. They would not get sucked into the bog.
She surged again, thrashing for purchase, reaching again and again for solidity under her hooves, until she was once again left panting, helpless in the embrace of the ground. Her nose drank in the scent of the brook babbling mockingly a few feet away. It was the destination she had in mind when interrupted by the stealthily concealed bog. Her ears flicked, eyes widening as the call of the crow came again, much closer. No good came with inky winged messengers.
She stood stock still, ears up as the bushes rustled. Predator? And there it was. She hadn't seen one before, but she knew what it was. Luphin. Eight feet of tall black coated wolf shadow on strong plantigrade legs. His autumn colored eyes slid from the hoof prints in the soft soil to meet hers for a long moment. Adrenaline surged as she panicked, thrashing with desperate energy against the thick muck, helplessly drawn deeper, the muck closing over her back! She stopped after a less than a minute, muscles burning as the exhaustion began to wax heavy. The muck trembled as she drew in a ragged breath, anticipating it to be her last.
The luphin barred his teeth, a long low predatory smile - a strip-tease of ivory curved death. Not the smile of friendship she had been acquainted with in her short life. The deep wolven eyes scanned read the strained young body, the cool mud swallow, and the nearby brook like a book.
"What do we have here?" The luphin asked casually, perusing the meal before him. His voice was smooth and deliberate. The young doe started. She had always thought speech was the sole domain of the deer of this magical wood. Why would the great stag have given cold blooded murderers this gift?
ith a horrifyingly delicate and purposeful grace the black furred predator moved along the strong roots of a nearby tree. The doe.s eyes followed the broad articulate paws as they moved lithely over the roots and onto the leaf littered soil. The soggy ground provided him far more support than it had her.
The young doe gasped for air, panting wildly. Her eyes rolled in terror. The mud seemed to clamp around her, paralyzing her. The luphin was nearing. She could smell him. Her heart hammered in response. The harsh cry of the crow squawked overhead. Scavenger crow wanting a piece in reward.
The doe took a deep breath, and spoke, stammering as her heart fluttered. Flattery never hurt.
"Ha...Handsome Luphin." she began. The luphin paused, his sure movements freezing midstride. The crow squawking overhead. Her next words rushed over each other in a rush, "I have have become trapped. I have lived in this wood five seasons. Three fawns I have raised! Do you bring the death to me now?"
A image flashed to the does mind, the jet black shimmer of a crow, pecking out the eye of a decomposing, ripped body encountered some months before.
"Three children? And but a child yourself?" the luphin asked scheptically, head tilted in calculation. His voice had an edge of hunger, like the call of the crow. He shifted his feet to stand even.
"I had thought you a prey deer." he stated, eyes sliding with some regret to the summer green of the forest canopy above.
The deer spoke again, panting against the pressure of the muck around her. "Great was the honor bestowed by the buck, and heavy was the burden given me." She raised her head in pride and defiance, eye upon the luphin. "Children of the Great Stag are not prey."
The luphin's muzzle opened in a half grin. "The Great Buck." A sacred agreement with the old cervid prohibited killing his offsping. But said nothing about aiding the splithoofs. He sighed, and started to turn away. "Well then, I guess I'm out of a meal..."
The deer felt a surge of panic well up, she bucked in the muck fruitlessly. "Luphin!" she called.
The luphin paused, his body half obscured by a large tree.
"Any in my ability, I will give you in return for your help!" she spoke rapidly and with strength of conviction, an edge of panic seeping in.
The crow cawed as it flew away, the dark shape flashing in view in the corner of the tiny clearing.
"What?" the luphin snapped, "What on earth could you help me with?"
He looked over his shoulder, hungry eyes the color of autumn leaves meeting the soft brown of the stag's child.
The deer's mind raced across what she knows.
"I know the softest moss! I know the most dener leaves! The sweetest berries! I know the secret passages of safety where your kind have never lurked!" she panted. The hungry mud closed further around up around her neck.
The luphin shook his head, beginning to turn away again. "Young doe, I have stoaked these woods, as my ancestors have, longer than the hooved kin."
Longer than the line of stags? Dismay filled her, they was but babes to the luphin? She shook her head, grasping for value in her knowledge. She rushed on.
"I know not what hunger lurks in you, what you need." she rolled her eyes plaintively, desperate for a way out.
The luphin's head snapped around, his eyes seeking hers. He steps towards her, teeth flashing in a shaft of summer sun. "What hunger do you know, girl? I hunger for the flesh of your hoof maidens, I seek sweet marrow and hot earthly blood...", saliva dripped from his fangs, the gurgle of empty stomach audible in the stillness.
She siezed upon hunger. "I know hunger of fawns, on spindly legs. Eager to suckle in the cool dew of morning. I know the hunger of winter, seeking the lost leaves. I know the hunger of need, my teats swollen for the fawns."
The luphin begins to turn his back on the deer's plight again, eyes half-lidded in superiority. He paused, thinking over the words. One of the great luphin secrets was that only one in ten was female. Even then, in the darkness of the deep woods, where no man has freely walked since the raising of the claw mountain, there are precious few bitch luphins. What few there were favored only their mates and cubs with the pleasure of their bodies and the milk of their breasts. Eyes narrow, his gaze returned to the trapped cervid. Not luphin, but Female. Milk.
"Did... you say milk?" he asked, ears focusing on her attentively.
The deer nods, panting difficult against the increasing pressure of the mud, the thick substance over halfway up her neck. "Yes! My teats are swollen even now! Only three days has it been since the weaning of the fawns." She practically wept with desperation and hope, "They ache with fullness, hungering for their hungry mouths!"
The dusky orange eyes widen. She couldn't know the delicacy of a doe's milk. Only alphas or powerful lone wolves could get it. He was luphin, but no alpha, nor strong enough to risk taking down a mothering doe without injury to himself. An odd thought, doe milk without the kill.
"Are you... I mean..." the luphin for the first time seemed unsure of himself, stumbling over the words. The doe could just be lying, knowing he cannot physically hurt her once she was rescued. "How do I know you're telling the truth?" he demanded, invoiking the iron clad promise amongst wolves. "Will you swear on meat?" You may never lie to one who feeds you.
The deer struggled with the revulsion of meat, instead finding her own value to swear upon. "On every point of the great stag's antlers, it is so! Were it not for his mud, you would see it yourself!" The mud closed further up around her neck, reaching the curve of her jaw and head.
The Luphin could not help wagging his tail, salivations dripping from his teeth at the
thought or rich, creamy milk in limitless abundance. This was the sort of coincidence
only the eternal forest could arrange. He shook off his hunger and pressed the protocol. "I will not swear on your father's rack,
In ages past it has killed my ancestors. Swear instead on flesh, or failing
that some of these 'berries' you speak of." He count not let the young doe think she was in some position to dictate terms.
"I will lead you to the berries, I ,.. I know where they grow in great
abundance,.. I SWEAR it!" The young doe said nearly panicked stricken as the
chill of the mud crept further up her neck. "On the berries of the forest my
teats ache even now!"
The luphin stepped forward and crouched low, his whiskers nearly touching the mud
of the pool. He spoke in a quiet whisper in an old language. He spoke in the
shared language of the mud swallows and the old wolves who were their allies
To the fawn's amazement, she began to lift out of the mud, her young body being
pressed all around and forced out of the swallow. Great gobs of black goo slid off
her beautiful coat leaving her covered in a thick viscous coat of mud. She ducked her head in shame, her eyes catching the intent, lustful stare
of the luphin warrior. She wobbled
unsteadily on her knees as she limped away from the pool, looking to all the forest a newborn trying to take
its first steps, she so exhausted was she by her trial
The Luphin's autumn colored eyes darted to the young doe's teats, still
dripping with thick clumps of mud. They were indeed swollen beyond her years,
and he could imagine them filled with a pack alpha's kill right, hot doe's
milk. He had never seen a deer on the hoof like this before, her liveliness and movement alone seemed alien and unfamiliar, exotic.
"You're beautiful..." he said, swallowing some of the drool overflowing his mouth, his eyes roving from the swollen teats to the flexing flesh beneath mud and matted fur, "you spoke truly."
The fawn moved away from the mud, a trail of small double prints showing her dainty path. The luphin padded across the mud, his large padded pawprint joining hers halfway across. She drinks from the stream with as much grace, then wading partway into the meager brook, dips her head and splashes the water against her, revealing streaks of gentle brown amidst the blackness encrusting her.
The luphin stands close, inhaling the scent of live deer beneath the dripping mud, his tongue licking his jowls, swallowing again as his anticipation of feeding encouraged his drooling.
He spoke in a new, softer tone, "What... What is your name?" His tailtip wagged unconciously, a friendly overture.
The fawn turned her head, regarding him fearlessly with her soft brown eyes. The luphin looked away before he could stop himself, then shook his head like he had something in his eye. Looking away from a prey, that is silly!
"Mint." the fawn said shortly, then went back to splashing water over her sides.
The luphin remained silent, she could smell his meat-eater breath, panting softly, the strong canines peaking out from under the unthreatening jowls.
Mint giggled nervously, "I was born in a patch of mint. I have always loved it." she said, "The fawns called me eatsmint." She catches sight of a deeper pool a little way up the stream, and starts walking towards it in the water.
"Mint." the luphin mused. The unfamiliar word was alien, but clean, mysterious. He moved after the deer, staying within striking range.
"I am Autumn Harvester." he said proudly. "I was given this deed name for being the champion hunter of my pack." He paused, frowning, "Long ago."
"A strong name." she said, wading into the pool to her shoulders, tossing her head to sluice the mud from her coat.
"Its... Its a sad name." he said quietly. The flow of the stream ruffled the fur of his paws and ankles, dark with the mud from her coat. Dark as the stream that ran with their blood, the autumn he returned triumphant from the hunt to find his whole pack slaughtered. A breeze ruffled the trees, sending shafts of sunlight dancing over the pool.
Autumn stared at the fawn as she climbed from the pool, the light browns of her back fading to deeper chocolate over her flanks and legs. "You're so beautiful." he says simply, losing himself in the sight of her movement, more graceful and strong now with a little rest.
Mint ducked her head in shy reply, "I... I would that my appearance please you." she said, nostrils flaring. She stepped towards the luphin, reaching past his easy reach to crop some light green leaves that grow on the bank. Her eye was within reach, soft and brown, meeting his. Daring? Trusting? How does a luphin read a prey expression anyway?
It made him feel uncomfortable. He looked away again, ears laying back. She was prey, not social, yet she was social not prey. Was he in charge or was she?
She studied the shifting shape, muscles cording tensly, powerfully beneath the hunter-scented fur. This was the luphin, the monster who ate you in the night? He was not so fearful as the tales had said. His teeth didn't run with blood, his voice didn't howl stabs of fear into the heart. She sniffed him closely. It was unlike anything she had smelled before, musky and dangerous.
The luphin lowered his dark nose to her soft brown one and in a heartbeat they had touched and exchanged breath, her breath chilling in his nose, his warm and foreign in hers. He gasped, eyes snapping open wide, meeting the soft brown of the fawn's. She had kissed him, his body responded readily. She did it again, two, three breaths. His loincloth twitched as the flesh beneath it flexed. He stood to his full height, flicking his jowls in aggression and confusion, getting a defferential reaction, her ears back, head lowered, shying away to the side.
The hunter panted, his heart thumping in his chest. He felt it, love, lust? Hunger! His stomach growled.
The doe stepped back to the mint, chewing thoughtfully as she squatted, letting go a thick stream of urine. The luphin dropped to all fours, nose flaring as he inhales the scent of the doe's urine. It was exotic, a new kind of musk. It was herbs and life, the scent of the fresh flow burning into his memory like a colorful line of poetry. Mint continued to relase, grazing on her namesake, ears flicking at the sounds of the forest creatures nearby. The luphin's interest in her water made her feel warm and wanted inside. It reminded her of the bucks, how they slurped and snuffed at the older does. And he licked her, tongue pressing momentarily against her flesh.
She twitched, peering back at him. He lapped the hot fluid as she released it, muzzle dripping, his panting ruffling her drying tail, the tongue brushing her more as her flow slackened. It made her feel tight inside, her tail flicking. The luphin crouched behind her, loincloth tented, licking the urine from his muzzle.
"Daughter of the Stag... I hunger..." he panted, "Lay on your side for me."
Mint paused as she inhaled the sent of the luphin, a strong musk on the air. She submits, laying down on her side in the patch of mint. "I owe my life to you. All I have is yours." she says, a tremble in her voice, flank twitching.
The luphin pounced close, suddenly, warm coarse fur against her side, on top of him. "I take you then" he vocalizes, tongue and nose sniffing and licking a swollen teat, moving something inside his loincloth. He suckles noisily, a paw petting her flank.
The petting was nice, like a special nuzzle. A warm neck stroking her flank, but smaller, she started to relax, the touch as pleasurable as scratching a pestersome itch. She turned her head and nuzzled at the massive head, so alien from the fawns that had fed so recently. His muzzle sucked like a hungry young buck, his tongue teasing and tickles nicely in a very un-deerlike way. She felt the heat of her body responding to his industrious nursing, her other teats tightening, eager to feel his muzzle on them.
The luphin fumbled at the buckle on his belt, stripping his hips of the loincoth and their support of his member. It flopped against her warm fur, dripping twitches of musky fluid. His paws roamed over her hindquarters, petting and smoothing the warm fur, cupping and squeezing at the rounded muscular rump, the short tail. He moved to another teat, guzzling the rich liquid. It was so good he lost himself in it, the hot milk washing over his taste buds in delectable bursts.
Mint watched the luphin move from teat to teat, draining them in short order, massive muzzle making short work of her supply. Her fluids drained for the moment he nuzzled between her legs, the movement pressing his member by her muzzle.
"Were the fawns so thirsty as are you, not even one could I feed!" she said, amazed at his voraciousness. She nuzzled curiously as his phallus, sniffing its thick musk. She had never seen anything like it.
"You will never need to supply a fawn if you belong to the Autumns Harvester!" the luphin said, a deep chortle in his thraot as his thick cock is nuzzled by the fawn. He squeezes the tail in a paw, lifting it, licking and rimming the deer's behind with his soft, wide canine tongue. His hips flexed, rubbing his member against her neck.
Mint's ears flicked at the licking, but she continued to explore the luphin, particularly the thick musk by the base of the phallus, her soft lips mouthing at him. He rubbed himself against her face, luphin balls musky against her nose and lips. "Goo-Good" he encouraged her, digging his tongue under her tail. The mouth against his sensitive areas was dangerous, exciting. The vegetable musk of her bowel seemed to push him to a frenzy. And the muscular ring opened, pellets of spoor familiar, yet strange in their freshness. He gulped them down, tongue licking, like cleaning the marrow from a bone, pulling out everything within reach.
Mint nuzzled and lipped, thinking that the luphins tongue felt very nice. She nibbled and relaxed, letting him lick and stroke her, but he stopped. A new urgency filled the orange eyes of the luphin as his strong paws gripped her, turning her about, breath washing over her, smelling of milk, urine, and scat. This was it, he was going to kill her. But she was okay with that. She watched him with her brown eyes, baring her sensitive belly once again.
The luphin lowered his hips, his thick cock tip pressing against the virgin vulva, bracing against the resistance of the flesh. He took her throat in his jaws, one of his fingers pressed at her ass. She took a deep breath and waited for the end.
He thrusted, spreading, stretching her with an almost convulsive series of jabs, his thumb sliding into her slickened behind, his body hot against her bare teats. There it was, the surging warmth, the shuddering delight of coupling. The alien warmth of gentle doe beneath him, around him, bound to him.
Mint pants, trying to reconcile the pain of the penetration with the expected pain of her throat ripped out. The luphin gave her no time, his breath hot around her neck as he drives himself into her. Hot jets of luphin seed warm her insides, penetration limited by the swollen knot at the base of his cock. After long moments of trembling she slowly relaxed. Eventually she nuzzled at his ear, an easy reach, feeling his teeth strong but gentle against her neck. "I am yours." she whispers.
"I told you he would fall for it." the old molting storm crow said, peering down at the great stag from his perch on the many-pointed antlers.
The buck nodded slowly, watching the pair. "You were right. A luphin protector will be good insurance against the troubles ahead. One doe is not so large a price."
write an oral-history styled version
"how a great luphin hero came to reside in the forest of the stag";
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