By the Silver Moon's Light

We worked side by side throughout the day, Wolf always somewhere in view or hearing. Agatha led me down forest trails, through meadows. We gleaned the edibles and herbals. She introduced me to plants I had not yet encountered or tried, explaining their uses. We gathered what was needful and Wolf brought a fine fat goose to add for our evening meal. I could see though that certain needs were not being met. There was little wild grain to grind for bread and roots were not abundant. Agatha would not be able to dig and plant, but I could and would...tomorrow. We had enough for today.

That night I dreamed that Wolf came to my bedside and nosed me. I rose to join him, stretching myself. As we stopped at the stream to drink I looked down to see my reflection. Looking back at me was a sleek, gray wolf, green eyed and sharp toothed. I glanced at Wolf, arcing one brow in wonder, but he simply grinned a tooth gleaming laugh, before turning aside.

I learned so much that night. How to read the scent of the night wind, where the hidden paths of the woodland lay, and I learned how to run. We ran together for the sheer joy of it, leaping and stretching, feet barely touching the ground. We ran until I thought my heart might explode behind my ribs and I gasped for every breath. I ran until I could run no further, and in a high meadow, the grass wet with dew and the moon shining silver bright on every surface, I fell to the ground panting.

Wolf stood beside me, sides heaving, head up and scenting the wind. Something wild and feral moved deep inside me and I rolled to my belly with a whine. He nuzzled me before moving behind me. I could hear his whuffling breath as he sniffed at me and I spread my hind legs wide, bowing my back and arching my tail high. I could feel the heat of his breath on my tender flesh and then his tongue as he licked me thoroughly.

A shiver passed through me and I whined in mingled pleasure and distress. I'd lost all consciousness of my human self. I was only a wild, bitch wolf, eager for her mate. He moved around me and I could see his arousal. The glistening length of his shaft protruded from its shaft and I could smell a musky scent that made my mouth water. He moved over me, tenderly gripping me with his jaws before entering me.

There was a moment of tearing pain and I yelped, trying to dart away, but he held me firmly in place. We stayed together motionless for a moment. Then he began to move, thrusting hard into me and I could feel his hot seed spurting deep into my belly. It was sweetest pleasure, and then he began to swell inside me, locking us together. It was too big, too much, more pain than pleasure, yet when he moved something deep within me convulsed and shuddered with joy. I lifted my muzzle to howl my pleasure and heard Wolf join me in notes that twined and harmonized with my own. I could bear no more and laying my head on my paws, I slept.

And woke in my bed, Wolf nestled beside me as before. As had happened the morning before, Wolf woke nearly as soon as I opened my eyes, yawning and stretching silently. Agatha slept soundly on her own pallet and I moved quietly, gathering the bowls and spoons from the night before to take on my trek to the stream. As it seemed was going to become usual, I paused to urinate, Wolf following immediately behind me. Before I could wrap my fur around me again, Wolf had buried his nose between my thighs, inhaling nosily and then sneezing loudly.

"Oh really?" I replied to the implied comment, "You could do with a bath yourself, Sir!"

His mouth dropped open in wolfish laughter, but he nuzzled my wrist in accord and stepped away so I could cloak my nakedness. As we moved down the path to the stream I contemplated the situation, it was spring and while the mornings were still chilly, the seasons were turning warmer. The earth would provide for us from her bounty, although we might have to roam some distance to serve our needs. Clothes might be a problem. I was wearing what were essentially rags, but Agatha had provided skirts and tunics for herself made from some of the hides that Wolf brought in as prey. If she would show me the way of it, I could provide equally for myself. We had hides in plenty. It seemed she had lived for years in the cave from the provisions inside, and the heavy soot on the cave ceiling.

Winter would come again, soon enough though and the stream would freeze over. We would need to melt ice or snow for water. That would be nice for washing I thought, but depended heavily on the amount of snow we received. The greater the depth of snow, the better for our supply of water. But then, the harder it would make it for hunting, I thought, looking at Wolf's lean figure. While Agatha and I could make do with vegetable matter for some time, that would become increasingly scarce in the winter...and Wolf would require meat.

No sense borrowing trouble I thought as I bent to wash the bowls and spoons, before bathing. The water was clear, as was my reflection, and I gasped in alarm. Wolf moved to attention beside me, his ears pricked forward as I bent to look at my reflection again. Overnight my hair had gone totally silver gray. I pulled a lock forward to examine but it was true. Wolf whined and nuzzled my ear in either distress or compassion. I turned and flung my arms around his neck, burying my face against his warm black fur and sobbing. All of my rage, and fear and uncertainty about my future came pouring out with my tears and Wolf sat patiently through it all.

My emotional storm finally passed taking Wolf's patience and restraint with it. He licked my face enthusiastically before falling to the ground and rolling to his back. With his paws waving in the air and tongue lolling he looked more dog-like than ever, despite being longer than I was tall. I laughed at his antics though and rubbed his belly, scratching his ribs. His leg twitched in pleasure and an inch or so of his wet, red cock extruded from its cover. The sight of it brought back the previous night's dream and I suddenly wanted to bare my teeth and get down on all fours, presenting my rear for penetration.

My mother had been right, I was evil and sinful. I turned away blindly, wading into the frigid water until I reached a spot where I could squat and immerse myself. Once hidden by the water I began to rub myself furiously between my legs, trying to wash away that throbbing need that seemed to arise at the sight of Wolf's shaft. But as I rubbed myself, the need grew instead of abating and soon I was kneeling, the cold rush of water passing over and around my body while one hand busily rubbed and stroked around that nub between my thighs. The need built and the pleasure grew, along with my feeling of evil and sin, until finally release came and I was left limp and gasping.

Wolf bounded into the water, alarmed at my groan of release and leaped around me, splashing and pawing at me until I finally staggered to my feet. I made my wobbling way to where my fur lay and fell on it, wrapping it around me. I could feel Wolf nestling against me before I drifted into a brief sleep.

The days passed and quickly became a pattern. Days were spent foraging for food and medicines. Agatha taught me to make wild strawberry wine, and sloe plum cordial. We could store these in the cleaned and preserved stomachs of animals Wolf had hunted. Smaller organs, like the gall bladder were useful for holding medicines.

Nights were another matter. Some nights passed dreamlessly. Other nights I dreamed that Wolf and I roamed the woods and hills and that he taught me to hunt. Still other nights I thought I woke to hear Agatha talking to someone, a man...a stranger. But there was never any sign of anyone else in the morning.

Agatha had arched a brow when she saw how my hair had changed, but she said nothing. Several days later I woke to find a comb, carved of cedar, designed to represent a snarling wolf -- his neck was the handle of the comb, and his teeth were the teeth of the comb itself. It was clever, and well made and beautiful and I tried to thank Agatha. She waved away my thanks but said, apropos of nothing, "Wolves mate for life, did you know?"

I'm sure my guilty glance had darted to Wolf. We had not mated again in my dreams but still, I felt a considerable sense of sin and shame at times regarding my feelings for him.

Then one day while we were out, something different happened and everything changed. Agatha and I were returning to the cave after a morning of harvesting. I'd gathered some plants and seeds that I wanted to plant in a sort of garden, closer to the cave, so that some supplies might be more readily available. I'd been scattering grain seed onto an upland meadow as well in hopes of eventually being able to gather enough for bread. I wasn't sure yet what to do about making butter, but I had years to figure these things out.

As we returned, Wolf wandered off to hunt and Agatha and I were alone. We were companionably silent until the silence was broken by singing. In the path ahead, apparently waiting for us was a man, singing some romantic ballad I thought, in a not unpleasant voice. He was tall and slender, broad in the shoulders and narrow in the hips with sleek black hair that was gathered into a loose tail. His beard was neatly trimmed and his eyes were dark, almost black I thought. The color of pine shadows.

"Hello Agatha, well met!"

"Well met, Phelan. Have you seen my wolf?"

"We met in passing." The stranger grinned. "He hunts today."

"Then you must stay with us for our protection," Agatha stated emphatically. "Come and meet my Granddaughter, Morna."

My mouth fell open in astonishment, first at being introduced as the old woman's granddaughter and also at being named by such an uncommonly sweet name. While my own name, Moya, meant bitter, Morna meant beloved. I was unsure what to do or say, but the stranger...Phelan, made a leg and bowed at me in a courtly manner. I curtsied in return as best I was able.

"Mistress Morna, very well met indeed!" His eyes gleamed with appreciation as he smiled up at me from his bow.

I began to stammer a reply when Agatha cut me off.

"Now then, lecherous wolf that you are...don't be making sheep's eyes at poor Morna. She's not used to your courtly ways."

He laughed whole-heartedly. "Agatha my lovely, is it wolf that you're calling me? Or sheep? I grow confused and my head spins."

Agatha muttered that she'd see to making his head spin, sending him into further gales of laughter and I hid a smile behind my hand. He put his arms around the older woman, swinging her in a circle and causing her basket to spill. She swung a playful cuff at his head while I dropped to my knees to re-gather the spoils of the day.

"You'll stay to supper?" Agatha asked.

"At the very least," he replied, bending to assist me. "There's a storm coming and I'd as soon not be without shelter if I'm welcome."

"Aye, you're always welcome and well you know it. Phelan can sing a fine tune or tell great tales of the old days, Morna. It will be pleasant to have company during the storm."

I glanced up at the blue sky overhead, mares tail clouds raced across the sky, harbingers of rain perhaps, but I had no omen or portent of foul weather.

"But what about Wolf?" I asked.

"He can certainly take care of himself, and find shelter in smaller spots than our cave if needed. He will be well."

She laid her hand against my arm in reassurance. I had grown used to his constant presence, and I was worried but he had been with Agatha longer than with me, and she knew him well. If she wasn't worried... We spent a pleasant evening. The man Phelan did entertain us most capably singing a long tune with many verses about a foolish miller with many daughters. I fell asleep long before the miller's youngest daughter had been married off, or the scold of a wife had her comeuppance.

I woke in the darkness near middle night. The fire had burned down to glowing coals and at first I couldn't think what had waked me. But then I heard a whisper again, "Morna."

Phelan bent and lifted me, furs and all and carried me from the cave. I should have cried out to Agatha for help, to Phelan to cease, but I was powerless to speak or resist. His eyes glowed with an emerald fire that reminded me unnervingly of Wolf, as he moved soundlessly through the woods. At the edge of a meadow he stopped and laid me down with my furs. The dew wet grasses shone silver in the moonlight and struck silver sparks from the tips of Phelan's hair and beard. I felt certain that my hair stood in a wild glowing nimbus around my head, my own eyes probably glowing in like manner as Phelan's. He parted the furs covering my nakedness and sighed with pleasure.

"Sweet Morna!"

I shook my head, "My name...it's really Moya."

"No, you're named rightly, always my Morna!"

He lowered his mouth to kiss me, tenderly at first, then hungrier and more demanding. I'd never been kissed so before, or seen my brothers kiss a girl so. Phelan possessed my mouth, making love to it with lips, teeth and tongue. His beard was soft against my skin and his lips were too. Coaxing and teasing my own lips apart, gently nibbling, his tongue seeking entry. I was breathless, holding my breath one moment and panting eagerly the next. He nibbled down my jaw to my ear, then down the line of my neck where my pulse beat strong. A shiver ran over me and I thought briefly, if this was a dream, I never wanted to wake.

My breasts swelled between us, nipples taut. His mouth settled hot around one swollen peak and I moaned with pleasure. He suckled me deeply, his tongue flicking over my teat causing lightning waves of excitement to pass through me, settling between my thighs. I could feel my woman parts swelling and dripping with excitement. With one hand he fondled my other breast, tracing circles around and around while thumbing over the nipple. I arched my back, trying to thrust my breast deeper into his mouth. My own hands roamed over the muscles of his arms and shoulders, exploring the unfamiliar terrain of his body.

His hand moved lower, over my belly and down to the parting of my thighs. His hands were large, rough but tender as they slid against my flesh, sliding deep into the thicket of curls, and over the hot flesh hidden below. I slid my legs further apart. I might be evil or sinful, but this was a pleasure I wanted to enjoy to the fullest. Phelan had moved to suckle my other breast, but his fingers never stopped moving and stroking. They slid over and around and even into me. That made me feel fuller than I had when Wolf and I... I had a sudden pang of guilt. Wolves mate for life. Had it been only a dream or...

As if sensing my sudden withdrawal Phelan moved lower over my body, between my thighs, spreading my legs with his hands before swiping his tongue over my sex, just as Wolf had done. Gods! I screamed, something...pleasure, or denial I do not know. My hands moved to push him away, but instead knotted in his hair, pulling him tight against my fevered flesh. His mouth nestled against my sex, his beard tickling and rasping as his tongue and teeth moved over me.

I bucked against him again and again as waves of pleasure moved over me. I'd never felt anything so intense, so delicious. I'd certainly never seen my brothers put their mouths on a girl's cunt, although they frequently encouraged girls to mouth their cocks. I felt that same feeling as before when I thought of taking Phelan's cock in my mouth -- a feeling like needing to bare my teeth and drop to all fours. I wanted it with a desperate hunger, but I could not reach him and did not, in fact, want to let go of his head where it was buried suckling and mouthing at my little 'woman cock'. I could feel it swollen hard and standing firm as Phelan sucked and nibbled at it, flicking his tongue over it and sending another wave of pleasure washing through me.

When I thought I could stand no more, he reared over me, lifting my hips and I saw his man tool, swollen and gleaming in the moonlight as it reared against his belly. Oh gods, it's huge, I thought. It will never fit. But he bent over me and slid home inside me. I howled in mingled pleasure and protest, striking at his shoulder to push him away, but he pulled me closer, holding me still and again reminding me of the dream of Wolf's mating. But then he began to move and I lost all thought of anything that occurred before. He was large, for a man as well as for an innocent maid, and his shaft rubbed and stroked my swollen flesh. At first it was a pain to me, but soon the way he moved to stroke my inner channel began to bring a rising pleasure.

My legs moved, of their own accord, lifting to twine around his hips, while my hands raked his back, scoring furrows that must surely smart. He never paused but thrust harder and deeper inside me and I gripped his buttocks, digging my nails into his skin as I pulled him to me harder and deeper still. He bit down on my shoulder and I arched below him. We were a wild and primal pair, more animal than human and my passion soared along with his. An explosive burst of pleasure shook me, and then another and the walls of my cunt rippled around his shaft. Another wave of pleasure washed through me and I screamed his name aloud. I felt the twitch and spurt of his own pleasure as his seed filled me to overflowing. He murmured soft words of love and promises for the future, raining tender kisses on my face and hair. I, on the other hand, could not begin to tell what I felt. I wanted to repeat the loving whispers but there was Wolf...at least, the dream of Wolf... I curled against him silently, slow tears raining against his chest, until I slept.

I woke in the morning on my own pallet, alone, the sound of steady rain drumming against the earth beyond the cave opening. Glancing around the cave I saw Phelan on his own pallet, but awake and watching me, while Agatha snored peacefully in her niche. The wind was starting to blow fitfully and lightning glimmered in the distance sending a growl of thunder into the cave. To go outside to relieve ourselves was quickly becoming impossible and I moved an empty bucket near the cave mouth for our use. As soon as I was done, Phelan moved to use the bucket as well, reminding me again of my furry companion, and I worried briefly about Wolf's welfare.

The bucket would serve for now I thought. We could sprinkle it with ash if needed to keep down the odor and if the storm let up, one of us would take it out to empty and rinse the bucket. I set several bowls and another bucket outside the overhang to catch rainwater for washing and drinking. Until there was sufficient water to wash I would wait to dress and kept my fur robe around me for the moment. Phelan built up the fire and moved the cauldron of stew back to heat. We could add water to the stew, and more of the plants we'd gleaned, and have sufficient soup for a day or two. We were running short of meat, but still had a little smoked and dried deer and boar. We would not starve.

I sat beside the fire and picked up my sewing. Agatha was teaching me the tricks of making clothing from skins. Phelan sat behind me and began to comb my hair.

"You're a beautiful woman Morna, and I'm not sorry."

I turned my head slightly and kissed his hand where it rested on my shoulder for the moment.

"You're wrong Phelan. I'm not beautiful at all, at all...but...I'm...not sorry either."

"You've no idea how I see you, especially in the moonlight. You're like a creature made of moonlight itself -- all silver and light, like you could float away on the wind."

I laughed ruefully, "You're a poet Phelan, a bard, like one of the Old Ones. I appreciate the words but they're too fine for me. I know what I am, I've always known."

Agatha made a snorting cough of wakefulness and we stopped talking. Phelan continued to comb my hair, patiently untangling all the knots that had formed during my sleep, and our loving. I pondered that word. Our 'loving'. Phelan had made love to me, tenderly and carefully and with regard for my pleasure. It was very unlike those interludes that I had watched between my brothers and the wenches of the village. He had given me pleasure, repeatedly, something I'd never seen another man do, or be concerned over. And no other maid I'd ever seen had exhibited pleasure at the act. Shaking my head I puzzled over the difference. I turned to ask Phelan if his encounters with women were always so...but Agatha was watching us in a bemused fashion, so I kept my mouth shut.