Bite Marks

I never would have met her if the storm hadn't come up so suddenly.

I was dragging a deer down from the forest when the sky began to darken. The wind whipped up, tossing snow at me from below, and the dark clouds circled the jagged peak to the north. I listened, and heard no animals stirring, heard nothing but the wind. I knew I wasn't going to make it back to Westhaven before the blizzard fell, so I found a cave and dragged the deer inside.

Just as the snow began to fall, I stepped to the mouth of the cave, to check my surroundings before the snow made it impossible to go anywhere else. Fifty yards away, crossing towards the hills to the north, was a figure wrapped in heavy furs. Whoever they were, they were taller than me, and they carried a bow and a spear.

I hesitated for just a moment when I saw a flash of green beneath their hood and realized they were an orc. Most of the stories from my village about orcs began and ended in blood.

But the storm was rising. Staying out in it was death, or at least frostbite, and I was willing to take the risk to spare them.

"Here!" I called out. "There's a cave!"

The figure heard me, over the rising wind, and turned towards me. She stopped a few paces from me and uncovered her face. She watched me for a moment, as hesitant as I'd been a moment before.

"I have no coin," she said.

"I don't want any," I replied.

"Nor have I anything else to barter with," she added, narrowing her eyes at me. "So what do you want?"

I admit, losing my temper while talking to an orc is probably not wise, but it's what I did.

"I want you to get out of the blizzard before the goddess of winter strikes us both dead," I snapped.

She paused for a moment, then laughed, the sound stomping out the wind for a moment. "Alright, human," she said. "I'll spite the gods with you." And, without another word, she stepped into the cave.

I followed her inside. I'd grabbed enough wood to start a fire, and I set about getting it going as the blizzard picked up outside. As the fire grew, I glanced over at the cave entrance. The orc had taken off her outer layer of furs and propped it against the cave entrance with her spear, keeping the wailing wind from rushing in.

"Thank you," I said.

In the rising firelight, I could get a better look at her. She was a few inches taller than me, with raven-black hair that she had tied back with a band of leather pinned by a carved animal bone. She had a scar on her left cheek, running from beneath her eye down to her jawline. The leathers that she wore could not entirely conceal the strength in her thick limbs or the swell of her bosom.

"I should be thanking you," she said, glancing past her furs out into the swirling blizzard. "I would not have made it back to the hills by now." She held her right arm out, hand raised to show that it held no weapon.

"I am Karka, of the White Bear clan."

She was waiting for me to respond, and I wasn't sure exactly what she expected. Guessing, I held my hand out just as she did.

"I'm Grant. I'm from Westhaven."

She smiled. From the way her lips moved, I guessed that some of her teeth were almost big enough to push past her lips. Before I could wonder any further, she pressed her palm against mine. Her fingers were a lighter green on the underside, like the first shoots of the plants in spring, and they stuck out past mine.

"Thank you for your hospitality, Grant of Westhaven," she said.

I nodded. "We may be in here a while," I said. "The sooner we dress this deer, the sooner we can have food."

She nodded, and took a knife from her belt. "That I can do."

--

It was growing dark by the time we'd finished with the deer. The cave smelled like blood, but we'd managed to keep it from smelling like anything worse, and we had food enough to last through the blizzard.

Watching Karka work was fascinating. She was clearly a hunter much like me, and for all our differences of culture, the way she worked through dressing the deer was almost exactly the way I'd learned it. Her hands were stronger than mine, but the motions were the same.

We sat together and turned pieces of venison over the fire as the wind howled outside. We were both hungry, so for a while we sat and ate in silence.

"Will they worry about you, when you don't make it back tonight?" I asked. "I know my little sisters are going to worry."

She sighed. "They will worry for me, too. There's nothing to do for that but live, though."

"At least you'll have a good story when you get back."

She scoffed. "I found no deer, I fought no enemies, and I earned no scars. Hardly a story."

"Scars?" I asked.

She paused, sizing me up. "My people remember our deeds with scars. They...they show what you're willing to bleed for."

I considered this for a moment. "But what if something important happens and it doesn't give you a scar?"

"Like what?"

"Like...helping a stranger survive a blizzard."

She smiled. "You could give yourself one," she said. "Or I could give you one."

"I'll think about it," I said.

"I've got a good knife," she added, her grin broadening.

"Not done thinking yet."

"Alright," she said. I watched her for a moment, wondering what her scars looked like, before I looked away. There wasn't a proper way of asking a woman to show me her skin.

She watched me, and I guessed that she was following my thoughts.

"When we meet strangers, those from the other orc clans, we trade scars. I show them a scar and tell of it, they show me one of theirs, and so on."

I nodded. "I have some scars," I admitted, "although some of my stories don't have scars to go with them."

"Our ways aren't yours," she said. "But I would hear your stories."

I took a deep breath. "Okay," I said. "Three winters ago, I brought a deer back from a hunt. When I got back, my neighbors' larder had burned down in a fire. So, I dressed the deer and gave it to them, and went back out to hunt again."

"Worthy," she said. "Did the rest of your clan help them too?"

"Yes," I said. "We do care for each other."

She nodded, then unlaced her shirt and pulled it over her shoulders, leaving only a band of cloth around her bosom. I stared at her, unable to tear my eyes away.

She was beautifully strong. Not even the blacksmith in Westhaven had muscles quite like hers. She moved, and I could have sat and watched her move all night long. Dozens of scars, large and small, covered her long arms, her broad shoulders, even her belly.

She saw my expression and smiled, not unkindly. She pointed at three jagged marks along her side, thick and softened by age. "When the gnolls came, four winters ago, I fought them with my clan. One raked me as it fell dead."

I imagined her in battle, wielding her spear, and I spoke before I could think. "I wish I could have been there."

She smiled sadly. "You would have been welcome."

I nodded. Not wanting to break the cycle, I pulled my shirt up and set it aside. I held my right arm out.

"It's faded a bit," I said, "but when I was younger our dog fell in the river, and she clawed me when I pulled her out."

"It is good to be scarred by animals you love, and not just those you defeat," Karka said. She glanced at my chest, and a sly smile crossed her lips. "Is all of your hair red?"

"That's not a scar question," I said, grinning back.

"Just curious," she said. "Our hair is black or white, nothing else."

"It's all red," I said. "Though some humans are yellow above and darker elsewhere."

"Interesting," she said. Then, shrugging, she reached for the band of cloth around her chest and pulled it up.

Time slowed down for a moment as her breasts were pulled up before slipping out of the band and falling. They were beautiful - full and generous and undoubtedly soft. They made a perfect contrast with the muscles of her arms, softness and hardness in harmony. I told myself I should look away, and I very much did not.

She'd turned to show me a narrow scar that ran down her shoulder blade, but she paused.

"Are you alright?" she asked. "You're changing colors. I didn't know humans really did that."

"I'm fine," I said. "It's just...for humans, that's usually private."

"Shoulders?" she asked. "Or...ah." She grinned. "Really? How do you feed your children, then?"

"Carefully," I said. "Or in private."

"And how do you fight harpies, if they nest near you?" she went on. "Because they have them out too."

"Awkwardly," I admitted. "But theirs aren't nearly as nice as-"

My brain caught up with my mouth, but Karka was already grinning broadly. She ran a single finger across her breast and around her beautiful dark nipple. I felt my blush deepening, and I didn't look away.

"I like making you change colors," she said.

"You're good at it," I said. "But you were showing me a scar."

"True," she said. She turned, once again showing me the jagged line on her shoulder. "This is from a rockslide, up in the mountains. Taught me not to trust the slope too much."

"That's a good lesson," I said. I hesitated for a moment, then turned to show her my side, at the bottom of my ribcage. The fire fought back the chill from the blizzard outside as I lifted my arm, revealing a modest scar across my ribs.

"Seven winters back, a yeti came down out of the mountains and started circling the village. It started with livestock, but we knew it was only a matter of time before it started hunting people. I saw it in the foothills, and ran back to town to alert the others. I don't even know how I got this mark - scraped myself on a rock or a branch, maybe. I only know that I ran to the village and led the fighters to it."

"Knowing when you can't fight a battle on your own is...a virtue," Karka said. "One that the young don't always have."

"Still, it's not much. I ran."

She chuckled. "And then you ran back."

I hadn't thought of my actions that day as brave, or anything close to it. The idea that a fighter like Karka thought otherwise shifted things in my mind that I'd thought were immovable.

As I tried to get my thoughts in order, I noticed a series of small scars on her shoulders. They looked to have come from some kind of small puncture wounds, grouped in pairs.

"Can you tell me about the scars on your shoulders?" I asked.

She laughed, as though I'd made a joke, then paused to assess my expression.

"Do you not know?"

I shook my head.

She frowned. "Do humans never bite each other?"

Understanding hit me like a fist from the heavens. "Ah," I said. "Out of, ah, passion? We do, but our teeth aren't as impressive as yours."

"I suppose not," she said. "Well, yes. If a lover has shown you pleasure and kindness, you can ask to bite them, so a scar can mark their prowess."

"Ask first, huh?" I said.

She nodded. "Someone who scars you without asking you first is an enemy," she said, "and we know how to respond to enemies."

I nodded. "That makes sense," I said. I looked at the bite marks, wondering what their stories were, wondering if those were stories she would be willing to tell.

She followed my gaze, and perhaps my expression. She lifted a finger to her left shoulder. "This is from Tarreg. I was his first. These two are from Helt and Ragh at the spring festival."

I nodded. "We have a spring festival that's...well, it's along the same lines."

She grinned, then pointed at her other shoulder. "This is from Hulfdar, and it's not as deep as the bite I gave him." She nodded to herself, then cast a sly glance in my direction. "You could have some interesting scars if you humans would use your mouths when you fuck."

"Oh, we use our mouths for plenty," I said.

"Beyond talking," she said.

I smiled.

She cocked her head. "Okay, what else do you do?"

I bit my lip. "Do orcs not...kiss? Not anywhere?"

"Carefully," she said. "You've seen my teeth. And...what do you mean, anywhere?"

I saw the moment she understood what I meant. She drew her head back, looking at me askance, and snorted. "You don't."

I pointed. "That sound is what you make instead of changing colors," I said.

She wouldn't take the bait. "You're telling me that you kiss women's cunts?"

I nodded. "When I was a bit younger, the merchant's daughter who lived not far from me was...very desirous of men's company, but terrified of getting with child before she was married. She went for a walk every day that happened to take her to my woodshed, where I would lift her fancy skirt and kiss her pussy until she came. She only felt comfortable returning the favor with her hand, but the truth is I would've done it just to hear her moans."

Karka stared at me for a long moment. "I believe that you would gladly give pleasure," she said. "But it's hard to believe you could do it in this way."

I grinned. I could feel myself blushing before I spoke, but I spoke anyway.

"I can only think of one way to prove it to you."

She narrowed her eyes, but she grinned while she did it. "This isn't some human plot to betray me while I have my pants down, is it?"

She stood, as she finished speaking, and reached for the laces on her pants. She kicked her boots aside, then let her pants fall to the ground.

I couldn't take my eyes off her, as she stood before me wearing nothing but her scars. Her legs were thick and beautifully muscled, and I felt a brief pang of fear at the thought of putting my head between them. The thought didn't last, though. I looked from her wide shoulders to her generous bosom, then down her abs to her wild black bush, and I decided that if I died I'd die happy.

"No betrayals," I said softly.

She smiled, as confident as she'd been with weapons in her hands. "Then show me you're not hiding anything."

I took her meaning and reached for my own laces, then slid my pants down. I wasn't as quick as she was at sliding my boots off, but she didn't seem to mind the delay.

She looked at my naked body, and I tried to balance all of my emotions. She looked amused, and hungry, and curious. I could see very clearly that she was taller and stronger than me, with more scars than I was likely to get, and only her naked excitement held back a feeling of unworthiness.

She stepped closer, and set her hands on my shoulders. Her presence was firm, keeping me at just the right distance for her to look closely.

"I have to be honest," I said. "I didn't think my scars were this impressive."

She smiled, her fingers moving along my shoulders. "Do they tell stories of orcs in your village?"

I nodded. "Not pleasant ones."

"And yet, when you saw an orc out in the blizzard, you called out to me. You knew there was danger, and you acted anyway, all for a stranger."

She pulled closer, her body pressing against mine. She leaned towards me and rubbed her cheek against mine, a primal gesture of warmth and need.

"I know what you're willing to bleed for, Grant from Westhaven, even if you don't have scars from it."

I drew back, just far enough to look her in the eyes. I could feel my blood rising at her touch, my desire calling out for hers. I had learned so much of her ways, but she saw things in me that I hadn't seen myself. I wanted to thank her. I wanted to learn more. I wanted to pleasure her. These desires wove together, and I leaned in to kiss her.

She moved gently, as my lips pressed against hers. I could feel the warmth of her breath, feel her strength as she held me close; she was being careful so that she didn't bite my lip. The motions weren't unwelcome for her, but they were unfamiliar, like trying a new dance. I moved carefully, too, letting my lips brush against hers, tasting her without letting my passion run away from me.

She stiffened a bit as I moved to the side and kissed her cheek, gasping softly.

"No bites," she whispered. I wasn't sure if she was directing me or declining to make a promise, but I wasn't in a hurry. The night would go where it would, and I'd be lucky even if we never went further.

"No bites," I agreed.

Her skin didn't feel any different from anyone else I'd kissed - more muscle beneath it, perhaps, but otherwise alike. It seemed surreal that we lived so separately, so mistrustfully, when we were so similar in the darkness.

I kissed a path down her neck towards her shoulder. I couldn't help but take a detour over to her arm, kissing the muscles that worked to hold me close. I could feel her chest rising and falling against me, her breaths coming more swiftly as I moved.

She gasped as I moved down onto her breast. I thought for a moment about how strange this must feel, if kisses almost always come with teeth, but the thought was fleeting. I found her nipple, and ran my tongue around it before drawing it into my mouth.

"Oh," she murmured, bemusement and arousal in her tone. She held my shoulders tightly, keeping me in place, but I had nowhere else to be just yet.

I wrapped an arm around her back and lifted my other hand to cup her breast from beneath. I could feel her chest rising and falling with her breath, feel her body responding to my motions. Her nipple stiffened between my lips, standing firm against my tongue, and her fingers dug into my back just a bit.

"This is...strange," she panted. I could feel the tension in her body, torn between arousal and the unfamiliarity of the act. I smiled against her breast, and she lifted a hand to run her fingers through my hair.

I knew I'd promised her a particular act, but I found myself reluctant to rush there. I reached my other hand up to cup her right breast as well, my fingers caressing her skin as my palm pressed against her. My hands weren't big enough to hold them entirely, but I was determined to try.

I kissed a path across her chest, moving toward her right breast, and she rather firmly guided my head with her hand. She said nothing, but her desire was clear. I yielded, circling her right nipple with my tongue until I felt it, too, respond to me.

"I think I believe you, now," she breathed, her chest pressing against my lips. I looked up to find her grinning at me, her lips parted to reveal the sharp points of her canine teeth.

"It's a matter of honor," I said, raising my eyebrows. "I can't have you doubting my honesty."

She smirked. "Alright, then," she said. She put her hands on my shoulders and pushed me down, slowly but firmly, onto my bedroll.

She met my eyes, as I lay down and she straddled me and began to move up. A part of me wanted to tell her that I'd never used that position before, but more than that I wanted to let her take as much control as she wanted.

She knelt just above my face, leaning forward so that she could meet my eyes. I saw, in her expression, a mirror of the excitement tinged with a bit of fear that I felt.

I smiled, and wrapped my arms around her legs from behind. She shook her head, still thinking this all a bit mad, then lowered her hips onto my face.

She pressed her lips against mine, the scent of her excitement filling my awareness. I ran my nose up her cleft and circled her pearl, trying to understand the territory in which I was about to travel.

"Yes," she growled.

Sometimes, I told myself, the only way to know the territory is to walk through it. I ran my tongue along her lips, tasting her, feeling the roughness of her bush and the softness of her pussy against my face. I pressed my lips close, embracing her.

She wasn't easy for me to read at first. I could hear her breathing, her breaths sharp and intense, but she wasn't moaning or making the soft sounds that had guided me with other girls. For the first few moments, as I meandered through her valley, I wasn't sure how well I was pleasing her.

As I moved, though, I began to see the signs that she left for me. Her breathing slowly grew rougher, and I let her draw me onward. I slid my tongue between her lips, and she pushed her hips against my face, demanding more. I drew on her pearl with my lips, and she growled. This was new for her, and while she didn't yet know what she liked, she let me know when I found it.