Lost in the Light Ch. 07

The small boar gave Riyarra a good workout. It was swift and cunning enough to know what she couldn't follow it through. Despite being led over and around things, Riyarra never lost it. It wasn't until it finally stopped running and turned to face her that she closed the sizable gap between them. The boar charged her the moment she came into view. Her reflexes had never worked so fast in her life, the blade came up, and the boar's head was sent soaring into the air before she knew what happened.

Riyarra sat on her haunches dumfounded, and panting. A spray of blood slowly slid down her cheek, and suddenly she was checking her face for cuts. She didn't even feel it hit her. The smell of the boar's blood on her cheek flooded her nose, and she couldn't stop breathing it in with each panting breath. It was intoxicating in a way, and she licked the fingers that had wiped the smear, to savor its taste.

She suddenly wanted more. She got to her feet and approached the carcass. A rustle in the bush besides her distracted her for a moment and a red blur darted out to snatch the kill away from her.

Grelwuf stopped and turned around; the headless boar body clutched in his maw. He growled a warning at Riyarra. The Eltharian princess replied with her blade held high.

"That is my kill." She growled and dropped her hips low and arched her back forward. Grelwuf dropped it to the ground and put two front paws on either side of it.

"I saw it firrrst..." He snarled, and barred his teeth in a vicious, animalistic roar. Riyarra twisted her lip up in a sneer to reply. But when he stood up on his hind legs, and adopted a more humanoid pose with his arms forward, barring their claws, it went away. Grelwuf stood a good two feet taller than her. His arms were long and gangly, but finely muscled and had incredible reach as weapons. Riyarra slowly pulled her other blade from its sheath.

"Thou are a stranger herrre," Grelwuf growled as he started to circle the Eltharian. "My kindness, ye return with thievery." He snarled. The murderous look in Riyarra's face was all he received in reply.

He thrust his head forward and roared at her. Riyarra body reacted again and her small swords flashed forward towards his neck. But they sliced through the air and missed just as something painful raked across her exposed flank shredding cloth and skin alike. She hissed and staggered backwards as the beast paused and circled her.

"Treacherrry!" Grelwuf yelled and swung a powerful arm at her head. Despite the pain she ducked, and thrust a blade towards his armpit. The strike missed at the last minute and another terrible slash of claws lit up her backside with bright hot lights of pain. Riyarra fell forward and whimpered.

"Ye cannot be in two places at onccce." Grelwuf warned as he paced on all fours. "Contain the demon from killing, and ye cannot. Kill, and ye cannot contain it... Eltharrina."

"Call me, 'My QUEEN!" she screamed and lunged at the beast with her blades forward. Riyarra's face had become a horrible contortion of violence and rage. It was what gave Grelwuf pause more than her vicious attack. The Furrel's reflexes were faster by far, and he leapt to the side before those metal fangs could scissor off his head. But the damage had been done, and the monster inside her had been unleashed. They came at him again, and again – slashing, stabbing, and missing his jugular by inches. Each strike grew closer to the mark. He returned each attack in kind, scoring fresh claw marks and scratches all over Riyarra. His aim was more varied and precise. It wasn't the meaty parts he aimed for, but the tendons and muscles that controlled movement. It was a true testament to the berserker rage that had taken over this Eltharian girl that painfully debilitating wounds were having no effect.

Seemingly at a standoff, Riyarra didn't relent. It wasn't until she scored her first cut on the side of Grelwuf's muscular neck that his mood changed, and his attacks became more aggressive and vicious. Now Riyarra was pressed onto the defensive, deflecting the beast's arms and dodging his snapping teeth when it came at her throat.

Their fight had taken them all over the bush, blood splattered over the leaves and trees from their wounds and yet neither seemed to be slowing. One last twist and stab from the Eltharian warrior scored a nasty cut on the Furrel's meaty abdomen. Grelwuf roared in pain and leapt at the girl - one blade embedded in his arm immobilizing it and he knocked the other far into the trees, but it was his teeth sinking into her neck and shoulder that made her scream.

The ferocious beast man didn't stop there. His neck muscles tensed, strained, and pulled as his massive maw of sharp teeth pulled free with a hunk of flesh between them. At last the screaming stopped, and he could take a restful breath. Grabbing his prey by the neck in his maw, he dragged her off through the bush...

The storm sent an army of heavy raindrops to pound the roof overhead. A crack of thunder in the distance woke her from the most intense nightmare Riyarra had had in a long time. She touched a hand to her forehead and felt the sweaty fever. Her eyes burned and her body ached all over so she let loose a heavy groan.

"Relax, my frrriend." Came a bestial growl. Riyarra jumped at the voice and tried to sit up. The room spun suddenly and she collapsed back down onto a pile of cotton lines. It didn't stop spinning even though she knew she lay motionless, and suddenly the urge to vomit surfaced. The warm fur blanket that covered her bare body had been disheveled, so she pulled it back over her for comfort, and the nausea seemed to dissipate.

"I had... a bad dream..." she managed to wheeze out.

"Twas nay a drrream." Grelwuf said and padded over to her on all fours. Her eyes looked up at him in the dim room, but she couldn't focus on his close face. She couldn't see the details of the wounds their fight had left on him, nor the gash that now ran across his snout. "I have healed thee. Rrrest."

Was she still dreaming? No. The pain and aching felt real. She lifted her hand up to her neck and felt the skin. It was smooth and consistent, but very tender. She could almost feel where the wound was by the sore muscles. The rest of her was healed as well but she couldn't tell wound from fever ache. The room spun again, so she decided to stop thinking. The sound of Grelwuf's rough tongue lapping over his coarse fur filled the silence as she tried to rest.

"How long have I been out?" she asked, as her breaths became long and heavy.

"Most of the afterrrnoon," Grelwuf said between licking his wounds along his arms.

"How?" Riyarra mumbled. "I've been healed so... quickly."

"Hmmph, Furrels are an elder rrrrace." Grelwuf said as if that explained it.

"So are Eltharians," she argued, "it would take our healers days to heal what you did to me."

"Then thine blood has run thin through the ages." Grelwuf growled angrily, and lifted his torso up to clean a nasty puncture wound in his abdomen. Riyarra watched his odd posture, half-man and half-beast. He seemed to prefer being on all fours but his body had the flexibility and agility to also function as a biped. "Enough talk, rrrest." He barked, and turned away.

Riyarra watched his lean back curl and flex as he cleaned the wound with all the agility of a cat. The black pattern of stripes and spots mesmerized her for only a moment. It was the glisten of fresh blood on the nasty cut on his shoulder that broke her daydream. She remembered scoring that hit during their fight, but the rest of it was a blur of rage. A pang of guilt filled her – Grelwuf had subdued her mad rage, healed her mortal wound, and saw to his own injuries last. She struggled to sit up, the room swam, but she kept herself upright leaning on her arms and waited for it to stop. The cold air on her feverish bare skin sent a wave of chilled shivers. Trembling from the strain and delirious with fever, the elven princess still managed just the same to reach over and place a hand on his shoulder. It elicited a retaliatory jerk and a snarl from the Furrel, as he eyed her dangerously.

"Please forgive me," she said in heartfelt sincerity, and the beast man's demeanor melted and relaxed. Steadying herself on his hardened physique, she crawled against him and wrapped her arms around his form. Grelwuf didn't know how to respond, his lip curled in a warning snarl as she wound herself to sit behind him. His warm red fur felt cozy against her clammy skin. The shaking stopped, and the shivers disappeared as Riyarra rested her head between his shoulder blades and caught her breath. "It was not right of me. I sense that you understand what I struggle with, please believe me that I was not myself." She managed to say in a sincere, regal tone of voice.

Magic had been one of her strong suits, she considered herself well versed in the abilities of aura manipulation, even though she had only truly mastered a few spells. Despite what she thought she knew, she realized there was much more that other races were capable of that she never knew was possible – her own curse being one case.

Riyarra reached out with her spirit and felt Grelwuf's presence. It was her intention to use her own technique for healing to help repay his kindness. But the power that suddenly enveloped her was like standing before the sun and being burned without being hurt. It overwhelmed her, and she retreated.

"Churr, churr, churrr." Grelwuf chuckled. He placed a gentle hand on her arm as it held onto his chest for support. "Now thou dost understand what an elder race is. But I thank thee for the efforrrt.

I remember when I did first see an Eltharian queen." Grelwuf spoke softly. His hand stroked her arm as he felt her regain her presence. "She did have the most glorrrious gossamer wings I have ever seen. They were most beautiful."

"Wings?" Riyarra asked confused, "we do not have wings."

"Then thy blood has indeed gone thin. 'Tis most sad." She pulled herself away from him to digest his words.

"How old are you?"

"Younger than thee, but older still..." she scowled at his cryptic answer. "My people do not live as long physically as an Eltharian, but when our last days come we leave for the dreamscape, and from there pass on our knowledge to the young." Riyarra lifted her head up as the room seemed to have slowed down from her debilitating out-of-body experience. "I have been taught by many elder shamans, and was shown many of their memories through my dreams."

"I envy you." She admitted. Her gaze turned downward in thought and settled on the gash on his shoulder and neck. It hadn't been cleaned as thoroughly as the rest of his body which already seemed to be healing. Riyarra reached out and licked the bleeding, exposed flesh and cleaned it with her tongue. To her, it was the only way she could help in his fashion. Grelwuf tensed, but did not protest. He sat still and patiently allowed her to work.

Grelwuf's back straightened as he settled in and hung his head to allow better access for his nurse. Just being near him seemed to be doing wonders for her stamina, the room had stopped its seasick wobble and her bare skin was no longer cold. The painful ache of the fever was still present, but she would not allow it to keep a debt from being repaid.

As she cleaned the blood from his skin and fur, she found it oddly alluring. The taste electrified her. But something was different. No, this wasn't the good feeling touching his spirit had caused – it was the hunger within her.

"I cannot continue, I am sorry." She apologized and pulled away. "My curse craves blood."

"Hunger, Lust, blood... all these will tempt thee." Grelwuf said as he slowly lifted his head. "Thine fever comes from their denial. It will kill thee, unless 'tis fed."

"How?" She pleaded and dropped her forehead to his back. "Would you lay with me?"

"Churr, churr," Grelwuf laughed. "Furrels mate all day long. Thou are not hardy enough for that." Riyarra wanted to argue, she certainly felt that her promiscuous escapades recently would give her credentials, but her injuries and the fever were holding her back. It was also not in her nature to be so loose; proper Eltharians joined with a male out of love, not carnal desire. This curse was a different kind of torment than the slavery the Zecarins put her through.

"Am I not attractive?" she sighed as her hands had started to caress his chiseled torso of their own free will.

"Thine skin is too soft for a Furrel to mate with. We tend...to bite." Grelwuf chuckled lightly. Riyarra's hands drifted to his well defined stomach. It was a sensitive area that prompted him to remove her hand. "Rrrest," he commanded softly in the nurturing tone of voice of an authoritative father. "I will find thine companion."

Riyarra stopped resisting his attempts to push her away. She knew it was wrong, but part of her wanted him. It wasn't until he mentioned Lysia, that she shrugged off the desire and remembered her duty – and that she had abandoned it.

"Lysia, I forgot all about her," She said, admonished. "Can you find her?"

"Yesss." Grelwuf lifted up and walked out the open door of his hut. "Ressst, in thy meadow." Came his farewell words as he disappeared outside. Riyarra looked up at the dark ceiling of his hut and let her eyes adjust to the dim light that fluttered in through the dirt walls. It was a small burrow under an exposed tree root. The walls had been made of packed dirt and mud. Smaller root stems poked through from the flora growing on it on the outside. It was the perfect hiding spot out here in the wilds – completely natural and completely disguised. The furnishings had much to be desired however, there was little more than a collection of furs, and woolen, and cotton blankets. Some of which were too musty smelling for her to stand touching. There were a few iron pots and stoneware jugs and bowls but there was little else. She found her clothes piled into the corner and could see the still red stains of fresh blood on them.

Fatigue and agony overruled her exploratory nature and she found her way back under the fur blankets. It was nice and warm under them and they felt good against her skin. Despite her weariness and the irresistible call of the warm blankets, she could not fall asleep. The ache behind her eyes became almost too painful to bear. It hadn't been that long since she had been with a man, only a couple of days. And it had only been a couple of days before that.

Riyarra explored that thought, and came to the realization that about every three to four days she acted on her carnal desires. The pattern was clear; the longer she denied them, the greater her mood changed until she willingly acted foolishly and either had sex against her better judgment, or slaughtered men and women needlessly. Thankfully the later was a singularly unique occurrence. But then her thought turned to her fight with Grelwuf, and it fit the pattern – long denied, her anger got the better of her and she lashed out with violence and murder. If Grelwuf hadn't shown up to try and steal her meal...

Riyarra opened her eyes sharply at an uncanny conclusion – Grelwuf seemed to understand her predicament, and yet he was in the right place and the right time to trigger her aggression. It was too great of a coincidence. Her hand lifted to her tender shoulder; he knew exactly what he was doing - he knew the stakes. His cunning manipulation of her condition made her smile a bit devilishly, if he had done it on purpose, it made him all the more attractive. Mysterious, powerful, exotic... everything she craved.

A hand had drifted down her body to rest between her knees as she lay on her side. The more she thought about her mysterious benefactor, the more it migrated to the heat between her thighs. A finger brushed her blond bush ever so casually as her mind wandered to other thoughts and came to rest on Mule. He too was a mystery, and very powerful. Brave, intelligent, resourceful, and skilled - the man was a contradiction to everything she had come to know about humans.

In her mind she relived that moment of passion on the back of their strider. The feel of his knowing and firm hands on her body, the sounds of the forest all around her welcoming her back to the surface, it all cast its magic on her. Nimble fingers had worked their way between her labia folds and buried themselves deep inside her wet womanhood. There was a jolt of electricity, a wave of tremors, a squeal of pleasure, and Riyarra fainted...

***

Grelwuf slunk quietly along a large tree branch. Below him his quarry walked along unaware of his presence – and also unaware of the two moving shadows that flanked her from the bushes. He froze in mid-step and watched – one of the shadows changed position to intercept Lysia – there was now nothing he could do.

The moment Lysia skirted around a large tree trunk she saw the glint of metal and froze. Leaning against the trunk was a Zecarin solider, she recognized him from the patrol they had left. He stood with his spear before him and inspected the two pronged blade edge for defects. It took all of her self control not to scream and run.

"Seems we meet again," He said casually and didn't turn to look at her. His face was young, and she thought she recognized him from one of the nights she was used for sex amongst the troops. She cautiously took a step back and bumped into another soldier that had snuck up behind her. This one she hadn't yet met, he had an unkind face with one eye permanently stuck in a squinting sneer. He shoved her against a nearby tree and with his brutal hands grabbed her throat. A shadow above slowly slunk away.

"Don't scream." He hissed.

"Seems my friend missed out on enjoying you," The spear-wielder commented. His attention didn't leave his weapon. "So he's going to now. He isn't the gentle kind either. You see he hates women, and if I were you, I wouldn't anger him. He tends to beat the females he takes. Sometimes to death..." True to form, the Zecarin male ripped her shirt down the front violently.

Lysia closed her eyes, and tried to calm the panic in her heart with deep breaths. She knew if she looked at him, he would see the hate in her eyes, and that might get her killed. His hand finished tearing her shirt in half and went for one of her full breasts. He squeezed it painfully and she stifled a whimper as he mauled her flesh violently – pinching, squeezing, digging his fingers into her soft tissue.

"Open your eyes," He growled and molested her other breast. Lysia looked up to the branches above. Fear beat down her anger as her face turned red and her eyes puffy. She cried silent tears – there was no one to save her. She was no fighter, and hadn't found any sign that Riyarra was anywhere near. She was alone and utterly at their mercy.

The brute before her released her neck and grabbed her jaw painfully. From his belt he pulled a knife and started to cut her pants down the length of each leg. The blade cut her as much as the fabric and she stifle a cry of pain, but whimpered instead. When he finished, he let go of the blade and punched her in the stomach. Lysia fell forward gasping for air but a hand grabbed her brown ponytail and yanked her head back. She gasped and cried out in surprise but it caught halfway in her throat and she choked.

"Suck it, pale bitch." He growled and pulled his dick out of his trousers, thrusting it towards her face. Reaction came first and she moved her head away before she realized her error. A hard fist against her face punished her for the error. Crumpling to the ground she clutched her shattered jaw and tried not to move it as the pain forced whimpering cries from her throat.

"Easy now, we need that." The spearman complained and reached down to touch the Eltharian elf's face. Something happened and a warm sensation shot through the skin of her cheek and into the bone. With painful crack the bone knitted back together. He had used magic to heal her and the process was just as violent as they were. The spearman was no less violent than his companion and he yanked her up into his companion's waiting hands. Her head was grabbed, tilted painfully backwards, and a hard cock was thrust into her mouth. It pressed against the back of her throat and she gagged out of reflex. She struggled to pull away from it but caught herself before he could strike her again. As painful as it was she forced herself to breathe through her nose as he tried to shove his member down her throat.