Daughter of the Witch Wood Pt. 09

09.

Sneaking About

The tribe departed as soon as Erkin announced that the Rite was complete. Those unmated few within the Tribe, as well as the children, broke down the camp with all speed, and once the remaining members joined them, they departed within the hour. The makeshift pens holding the wild goats were torn down and the beasts were let loose, free to run back into the woods.

They marched through the night. Some of the wolf-men went to their full animal shapes and ran ahead as scouts, sharing information and returning to the rest of the tribe to guide their way. Everyone was alert, listening for the sounds of other beast-men in the dark, but they encountered no one.

The younger children were carried while they slept; the older ones trudged on because they had no choice. The human women and the three witches—Min, Erden, and Ilay—lacked the sharp eyes of their wolf-men partners, so they were led through the dark.

Min found herself holding Sergen's hand a great deal that evening and into the next morning. He carried their tent, wrapped up tight on his shoulder, but they had no other possessions. It seemed that most of the tribe chose to pack light in a similar manner—even Erkin and Ilay were able to carry everything they owned together.

Rain began to fall just after the Witching Hour arrived, marking the first hour of the new day, but as always it was a warm rain and didn't trouble Min at all. She wished that she could've walked and talked more with her mother, but she was elsewhere with her new mate. Min had seen a change come over her mother in the hours following the Rite. Erden seemed so proud and fearless in all the years Min could remember, but now she stuck close to Sait as if she were on a vine leash. She wasn't afraid, not that Min could see, but rather, the word that came to the daughter's mind was "tamed." Min resolved to watch from a distance and see when she could have the chance to talk to her mother more closely.

She also kept an eye out for Selin, but that was more for caution's sake. The wolf-woman hadn't been seen since running off before the start of the Rite days before, but after what she'd learned about her Min knew both she and Erden were at risk.

Erkin called a halt in the wee hours of the morning. Although everyone was tired, they raised their tents in the shadow of the trees and first watch was decided on. Sergen had volunteered for it, but he was given time to make sure Min was settled first.

"Something is troubling you," he said.

Min sat on the simple bedroll. The only reason it was dry was because it was wrapped up in the tent, but it was becoming apparent that Sergen didn't think much of needing other luxuries, which suited her fine since she hadn't grown up with many to begin with. Her hair was wet, even after doing her best to wring it dry. She pushed such distractions away for now. "I wanted to have a chance to speak to my mother after the Rite, but then Erkin ordered us to march and there hasn't been any time since then. I worry about her. And she said she had something important to talk to me about, remember?"

He shook his head. "There'll be time enough to speak to her, Yasemin. Sait has claimed her—give the two of them time to acclimate to one another first."

"Easy enough for you to say. Did we have much time to acclimate to one another, do you think?"

Sergen crouched down in front of her, touching her face with his fingers. It was an unusually gentle gesture for a man who seemed so brusque and abrupt. "Are you sure you aren't angry with me for claiming you?"

"You've asked me that before. Part of me thinks I should be," she said, crossing her legs. "But I don't know what to feel—I want to...'become acclimated' to you, Sergen. I just don't know how much time we have."

He showed another rare smile. "Erkin has given orders that we're to march again in the morning by daybreak. While we walk together, we shall acclimate ourselves with one another. Would that please you?"

It struck Min as a very small, yet sincere sort of gesture. She smiled. "Yes. I think I'd like that."

"Then rest for now. I'll awaken you before dawn to help strike the tent before the tribe gets moving."

He was halfway out of the tent flap before she spoke up. "Sergen?"

The wolf-man paused, looking back, head tipped. "What is it?"

"I...thank you. For being patient with me, I suppose."

He seemed to consider that and nodded. "Good night, Yasemin."

"Good night."

He disappeared into the early morning and Min pulled the thin blanket of the bedroll over her. It occurred to her then just how much the bed smelled like him, but that made sense—it was his, after all.

Min turned, pressed her nose into the fabric and took a deep, long breath of it. It was strong, but it wasn't unpleasant: Sergen smelled of fur, of growing things and the natural musk that, she presumed, any man would have. It was very different from the soft, subtle smell of her mother in their bed at home.

As Min closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep, she wondered if she'd ever see that little hut ever again.

—

By the next morning, the rain had stopped and the going was easier and faster. Everyone was still alert for any sight or sound of strangers, but bears already made a great deal of noise, and it would've been unlikely, if not impossible, for the wolves to be ambushed in the daylight hours.

Min saw her mother again from a distance as she and Sergen broke down their tent. They even shared a look for a moment, and it seemed that Erden wanted to say something or come over, but when Sait appeared she had all eyes just for him—talking to him, touching him gently on the arm or shoulder, even smiling as they talked. When they kissed, it seemed both so innocent and so genuine at the same time.

Then the order to march was given again. Sergen was tired, given the heavy yawning he gave from time to time, but otherwise he was patient and remarkably talkative, given the circumstances.

"My mother was a moon-born woman," he said. "She had the power to transform as the men do, as Selin does; it is a rare thing."

"What was her name?"

"Este. She was from somewhere far away, elsewhere in the Wood. My father was human, I think; she never spoke of him. We wandered on our own for years, but finally found this tribe when I was a boy."

"After my mother left," Min said.

He nodded. "I believe so. These people accepted us both, took us in; Erkin and Ilay cared for me like their own cub after my mother died."

"Are there other tribes of Kelash?"

He paused for a moment before answering: "I do not know. If there are, I expect there are less now than there once were."

"Oh, I'm sorry," she said, voice softening. "About your mother, and...well."

"It was a long time ago." Sergen offered no further explanation.

"So are you and Sait close, then?"

He considered the question, then nodded again. "I would say we are. Perhaps not so close as natural-born brothers, but close enough."

The path ahead of them was a meandering, aimless trek through the trees that stretched on as far as Min could see in every direction. The tribe walked in pairs, or threes and fours with children, everyone staying within sight of everyone else for safety's sake,

Min took a cautious look around, and still lowered her voice. "So when Selin said she wanted to mate with you, you turned her down for being Erkin and Ilay's daughter?"

Sergen shook his head, yet he also kept his voice low. "That had nothing to do with it. I grew up with her—I saw the way she took advantage of Sait. He permitted it for years, but he's to be commended for ending things with her and holding to that. When he finally rejected her, I was the next natural choice. I gave her one chance, but once was enough." He grunted, adding in a growling tone: "When it was obvious I was just a stand-in for another man, I rejected her. I won't content myself with being a woman's next best choice, no matter how fine a rutting she can give."

Min laughed, then covered her mouth to muffle the sound of it. He looked at her in confusion; she showed a sheepish smile after pulling her hand away. "Sorry. My mother was blunt sometimes with how she talked while I was growing up, but I've never heard someone talk like you."

"How do I talk, then?"

"Well...it's like you say exactly what you want to say—the full truth, whether it's blunted or not."

He furrowed his brow. "Is that a bad thing?"

"No." She shook her head and squeezed his hand. "It just takes some getting used to."

Sergen yawned again, giving his head a hard shake afterwards, as though something loose was in one of his ears. "What else would you ask of me?"

She considered it. "If Erkin is the chief, and Sait is the speaker, who would lead next if...well..." Min didn't want to speak of such things lightly, but the question had been on her mind.

"If no clear choice is apparent to be the next chief, anyone may claim it—assuming he can defend his claim. If he does, he becomes the new chief until his death."

"Might a female claim the role?"

"She might, but again, she would need to defend her claim." Given his tone, Sergen appeared to think the idea unlikely. "If a chief is weak, he can be challenged and taken down. To have one as long-lasting as Erkin is, I believe, a rare thing."

Min slowed as they circumvented an especially large tree, squeezing his hand tighter. "If Sait has claimed my mother, and she's forbidden the leave the tribe again, what's to become of me?"

Sergen didn't stumble, but she did see him hesitate in his next step. He didn't look back, but his voice became softer again—more thoughtful, it seemed to her. "I shall keep my word to you: after the bears are driven away, if you wish to break my claim on you, you can. That is our way. But, your mother would likely be forbidden to leave again; that is also our way."

"So if I left, I might not be able to see her again."

He nodded. "Yes."

It put a dampener on the good mood between them, and Min cursed herself a half-dozen different ways for doing so. Finally, after the silence had stretched several minutes, she stopped in her tracks and tightened her grip on his hand, forcing him to stop or to pull away entirely. It was a gamble, but it came up in her favor when he did stop, and turned again to look back at her.

"I'm sorry," she said, quietly, between them. "I love my mother a great deal—very, very much in fact. I don't want to be parted from her ever again, but I don't know yet how I feel about you."

He stared at her, not speaking.

"I find you attractive, and strong, and very brave. You're more of a man than I ever thought I would meet; I never thought I could want someone as badly as I seem to want you. But..." She looked down, then up at him again. "I need more time. Is that alright? To want you, but to not know how much I want you yet?"

Sergen was quiet for a moment. "My mother never took another mate—half the men in this tribe tried to win her, and she beat them all. I claimed you because I desired you, Yasemin. If I had desired another, I wouldn't have forced myself on you. So if you require more time to make up your mind, so long as more time can be had, you shall have it."

The declaration took her by surprise. "I don't think you've said so many words to me at one time before. But...thank you."

He leaned in closer, lowering his voice conspiratorially. "But if you intend to share my bed, I have every intention of lusting after you. Rest assured of that." Then he kissed her, a forceful press of his mouth to hers. It was so sudden and unexpected that she took a breath and felt a rush of something hot and pleasurable burst in her belly and tingle in her breasts.

Min let the kiss linger for a long moment, then pulled back with a sigh and a lick of her lips, like he'd left a lingering taste of himself behind. "Do you really want me?" she said, her voice a breathy murmur.

Sergen set down the tent, grabbed her by the hands and pressed her hard against the wide tree trunk behind her. He pinned her wrists above her head with one hand and kissed again—harder, deeper, forcing his tongue into her mouth. The other hand grabbed ahold of one of her breasts, giving a firm squeeze to the heavy flesh that made something red flash behind her eyes and something wet trickle between her legs. The feeling of his grip was powerful, but more than that, it was hungry—he desired her, and that made all sorts of wonderful things flow through her. She moaned into his mouth and shivered against the hard bark of the tree behind her.

He ended the kiss, then leaned in closer, to whisper into her ear. "If we were alone right now, I would bind you to this tree and fuck you until you could barely walk, or were so swollen with my seed that you might not be able to walk at all." Sergen curled the fingers of his empty hand hard between her legs, squeezing her cunt in a firm grip, but it wasn't to hurt—it was a possessive sort of gesture, and she moaned until he let go.

Min's legs were a bit shaky when he stepped away, picking up their tent and motioning for her to follow. She thought she caught a satisfied little smile on his face as he started walking away. After another moment, once she'd caught her breath and managed to stop shaking, she hurried to catch up with him.

It seemed that keeping her promise to be a good girl did have its advantages, after all.

—

They finally called another halt to marching at midday, mostly so that those who'd kept watch the night before could get some much-needed rest. A second guard was chosen, and once the camp was up, some went to rest and recover from the heat of the day. The tents sat under the shade of the trees like leather mushrooms amidst the underbrush.

Sergen took to their bedroll soon after that, and in minutes he was sleeping the deep, heavy sleep of exhaustion. Min sat for a time and watched him rest, remembering their talk from earlier that day, as well as the hard, heavy kiss. She'd enjoyed that kiss more than expected, and brushed her fingers across her lips, as if she could still feel him pinning her down and taking the bit of pleasure he wanted from her mouth.

The temptation to join him in bed was strong, but there was an opportunity now to seek out her mother, and Min wasn't sure when she'd have another chance. Pushing past her own reluctance, she brushed a gentle hand across her mate's cheek, and then withdrew from their tent in silence.

There was some activity throughout the camp, as the members of the watch kept an eye out, and some of the more energetic children played, either careless of the danger or in spite of it. But no one had any reason to question Min being out and about, so she went in search of Sait's tent—the tent where her mother slept now. It felt a little strange, realizing that Min and her mother might not share a bed or the privacy of each other's company ever again—certainly not like they had while Min grew up. It felt a little sad, like saying goodbye to something.

She identified Sait's tent and drew close to it. Sait apparently followed a few of Sergen's own habits, for the tent was a bit set apart from the others. When Min drew closer, she heard the sound of voices within, and—perhaps knowing she shouldn't, yet unable to resist—she stood close-by in the shade of the nearest tree and listened.

"—want me again?" Erden said, her voice hushed, but also touched with surprise. "Now?"

"Why shouldn't I?" Sait said. He spoke the same way as when Min had met him, the same as he always seemed to talk: quiet, but with a sense of self-assuredness or aplomb that was unlike anyone she'd ever met.

"You had a bear-man hiding outside your camp when I came here, have you forgotten that?" Min could imagine her mother pulling at her silver-touched hair in frustration. "They're hunting us now. We may already be surrounded!"

"We may, and we may not." The Speaker was, it seemed to Min, remarkably calm. "The fighting may come tomorrow, and I might die on the field. Should that affect everything about how I behave now, Erden?"

"No, of course not. But—" Erden gave a sigh of frustration. "Please, my sweet Sait...how long do you intend for this to go on?"

Min spotted a gap in the tent seam where one of the laces had come loose. Intrigued, too curious to step away or interrupt, she slowly crouched down, resting her ass on her heels with her back to the tree, and peered through the crack. She saw part of Sait as he set his pale hands on his new mate's dark shoulders. Erden was almost in full view: she had her face in her hands for a long moment before letting them fall, but there was a look of anguish or despair on her face.

"I asked you, after the first night, not to ask me that again." His tone was calm, but there was a firm edge to it. "I waited twenty years for you to return. Long, empty, lonely seasons, one after another after another—wondering where you'd gone, wishing you'd come back. Now you expect me to just let you go again?"

"Sait, please." Erden took one of his heavy hands in hers, set it against her cheek and closed her eyes for a long moment. Turning, she pressed a tender kiss to his palm. "It's a fantasy that you love. I'm too broken—Ozan stole too much from me to be worth anything to anyone now."

That name made Min's ears perk up; she went perfectly still, listening intently.

"No." His soft voice grew suddenly fierce as he took her in his arms. For a split second Min worried that he might harm her, but his voice grated and threatened to crack. "Not to me."

Erden cupped his cheeks with her hands; Min could see her mother's eyes glistening in the light. "You don't know what he did to me," she whispered. "What he nearly did to Yasemin. Ozan nearly broke this tribe apart in his greed to lead it, very nearly killed your father when he challenged Erkin to be the new chief." Erden looked down, took a shuddering breath before raising her head as new tears fell. "When he was banished, I had to go somewhere he could never find me. I left to protect you, and Ilay, and I never intended to come back. If not for my girl, I wouldn't be here at all."

"Then I'll talk to Yasemin and convince her to stay," Sait said. His voice had lost the hardness from before, but he sounded no less determined. "After what my father said, he won't allow you to leave again anyhow."

Min compressed her lips to a tight line. Was Ozan her father? The person who Erden had refused to speak of for any reason? Some things made sense, if that was indeed the case, and it sounded like the man was the worst sort of person, but Min wanted to know more. She needed to know more.

"My sweet, poor, lovesick Sait." Erden smiled when he said it, but she still sounded sad. "I wish I knew what to say to you to convince you."

"I'm already convinced," he said, releasing his tight grip on her. "I lost you once. I don't want to do it a second time." He took a deep breath. "And if I am lovesick for you, I don't want to get over it ever again."

Erden opened her mouth to protest further, but Sait stepped up and kissed her, cutting off her voice with a gasp and a helpless whimper. He went at her with a hunger that wouldn't be denied, not without a struggle, but Erden didn't appear to want to struggle. Min watched her relent as he bore Erden to the bedroll, but her sobs were soft—it wasn't the sound of a woman being forced to do what she didn't want to do.

"You should never have fallen in love with me," she said, her tearful voice so soft that Min dared to lean in a little closer to the tent and giving her a better view, and a closer place to listen in.