The New World Ch. 07

"Be safe." She murmured. "Farewell."

The wolves changed, their backs humped with their cargo. Matteo licked her face. He was so skinny and small. His foot was still hurt, but he had gone through so much. He was ready to work for a little longer.

The tribal wolves were strangely absent. The pair of outsiders were glad. In their first disastrous escape, they had fled to the north. This night, with the sliver of the moon high above them, they ran to the west. The snow was brittle under their feet, but their large paws kept them aloft, like snowshoes.

When the morning came, they gathered wood in their wolf forms. When they changed Ahote swiftly started a fire with flint and steel while Matteo draped the ground cloth on the exposed earth on the lee side of a large submerged rock. Matteo propped the top cloth at a low angle, weighing down the edges with rocks and fastening the highest point to a natural protruding nub of rock on the stone outcrop that they were protected by.

The fire burned at the side of the tent, heat baked through the hide wall. The shivering wolves gnawed on dried meat inside the tent. They rested on the soft fur of the groundcloth and Ahote covered them with a soft heavy cloak inside the tent. They're bodies heated rapidly. The temperature inside the tent was seventy degrees. Compared to the wretched survival in the cave, it was toasty.

Matteo turned so his face was pressed to Ahote's chest, and he kissed the warm smooth flesh. He spoke a few soft words that he had learned.

"Love me Ahote." Was what he whispered.

---

Roderick was in the warehouse, looking down at the shattered crates. He sat on a bale of tightly packed wool and wrote in his journal by the light of a lantern. He needed to plan, he had ideas of how to capture new specimens for the new moon.

He had ideas of luring wolves into traps during the last stages of the moon. He drew up plans for his traps... great spiked pits, running nooses, nets. His mind thrived with ideas.

He heard a ripping sound. He looked up from his drawings, and suddenly there was a hole in the low ceiling. Right where the old hole had been repaired.

Roderick paled as he saw dark shapes swarm into the warehouse. He got up and ran for the door, stumbling. He dropped his lantern and burning oil splashed all over the bale of wool, and spread quickly to the massive piles of cut timber that had been prepared to be sent back to England. The flames spread to the ceiling fast, and Roderick was lost in the smoke, it was a hellish inferno.

He was surrounded by men and women. Tall naked people, with dark skin and dark hair. The men had their scalps partially shaved, had tattoos inscribed in their skin. Their skin shone with sweat, and in the light of the fire they glittered like statues of bronze.

Roderick brandished a broken plank at them, panting and coughing. He gasped with relief when he felt a draft of cool air.

The fire was burning through the roof. Burning bits of straw fell from the ceiling, and cool air rushed in. His relief changed quickly to horror as moonlight fell on the Natives that surrounded him.

A truly massive man stood in front of him. Easily seven feet tall, with a body like that of a god. Roderick recognized the specimen that they had been forced to build a bigger crate for. The specimen that he had 'conditioned' with a red-hot poker.

The man grinned, and Roderick screamed as he saw those square white teeth begin to change.

---

As a man named Roderick was torn to pieces, Matteo was experiencing a different kind of death.

Ahote was over him, crushing him to the ground cloth, warming him. His cock was buried deep in the little white wolf under him. His teeth were clamped on Matteo's shoulder, his hands wrapped around Matteo's body, holding him as close as humanly possible. With each stroke he ground his cock into Matteo's prostate.

In french, a phrase for orgasm is 'le petit morte' or 'the little death'.

Matteo snarled and turned around so he was on his back. He held Ahote tight to him as Ahote fucked him in deep powerful strokes. Ahote's stomach crushed Matteo's cock into his own stomach. The friction, the penetration, the heat and the lust and the sweat and the love all combined and Matteo arched his head back and wailed as he died the little death.

---

When the two wolves woke up, it was nearing evening. Soon they would pack up and continue their journey, but for now they stayed close, held each other in the dark, enjoyed the closeness.

Matteo rested his head on Ahote's smooth hard stomach, gently kissing a small burn. Ahote touched a burn on Matteo's shoulder. "Roderick?" He asked quietly.

Matteo shuddered, and nodded. Ahote combed Matteo's soft red hair with his fingers, stroking his scalp. "You might not understand me, but this is a dangerous journey. But if we make it, we will be in the great plains. There are no other wolves, and we will have to avoid people. I don't care. I will have you. We can make a life out there."

Matteo didn't understand a lot of it, but Ahote's voice was soothing, low and rhythmic. He snuggled closer to his lover. They had known each other for so little time, but wolves in general were both practical and pragmatic in a way that few humans could hope to achieve. Both of them were already in love. They knew that they were made for each other.

---

JUNE

---

The moon was full.

It was huge and white and regal, shining down on the tall grass. The herd of bison was only a small part of the greater infestation that swarmed over the plains. It was small, only fifty individuals, dozing standing up.

The smell of wolf roused them. They snorted uneasily, and started to mill. The bulls moved to the outside, while the cows and calves moved towards the center. The bulls had poor night vision, and they peered out into the tall grass, lowing uneasily. They were still shedding, and they looked ragged in the moonlight, with flaps of their winter wool hanging off of them in swathes. Their sharp hooves tore up the sod.

A sleek red wolf darted from the undergrowth with a playful puppy-bark. He barked and snarled at the terrified bison, darting around them, nipping their hooves. The herd fractured, split, stampeded.

Matteo's body was sleek and long. His reddish fur was lush and gleaming in the moonlight, though it was gone in the places where the skin was scarred underneath. His long scarred muzzle pointed to the moon as he let out a high excited howl.

Ahote answered with a deep full-throated song. He burst from the deep, cornering a big bull. They weren't hunting. If they were hunting they would have gone for the cows, or a calf. They had plenty of meat back at the camp, and the two wolves were playing.

The bull bellowed with terror and rage, swinging his huge heavy head with the deadly black horns. Matteo nimbly skittered away, his tongue lolling over his teeth, laughing in the dog-fashion, his eyes gleaming.

Ahote jumped onto the bull's back, growling. He was massive, his fur was positively glossy in the moonlight. Ahote was more massive, deeper in the chest and shoulder, while Matteo was as lean and spry as a whippet.

The bull got up to full speed and left the wolves in the dust.

Matteo leapt onto a spur of rock and howled at the moon. It was a high joyous sound. They had nothing to fear, no one to run from. A pack of real wolves answered from a distance.

Ahote tackled him, leaping onto the red wolf. The two wolves wrestled, nipping each other's ears and paws, rolling in the high grass, barking playfully.

They roamed for hours before returning to their camp.

---

The sun beamed down on a canopy. They had abandoned any traditional kind of tent during the summer for a canopy made of their tent cover. The ground cloth covered the flat dirt while their food was protected in a cairn of rocks from predators that poked around in the night.

Matteo's slim back was tanned. He was one of those rare exceptional gingers who could get a tan. His hair was tied at the nape of his neck with a twist of twine woven from the fibrous inner bark of trees. He was dressed in nothing but a loincloth. Two individual rabbit hides, one in front and one behind, held around his waist with a bit of the same twine he used to tie back his hair.

The river near their home had a copse of willows and underbrush that broke up the endless plain. He was foraging. He had a flat sharpened stick that he used to poke around in the muck around the river. For lily roots, and a small kind of wild potato. He raked berries from the bushes, and pulled edible herbs whole from the ground.

When all of the pouches on his belt were full, he ran barefooted back to the camp. He was full of an endless energy. He was still lean, but his body was lithe with muscle, and the soles of his feet were blackened and tough.

Ahote was sitting cross-legged on a patch of dirt in front of their canopy. He had a hide stretched out on a frame. A bison calfskin. He was scraping it with a sharpened piece of bone, to get rid of the fat and blood vessels and membrane. His broad brown back was running with sweat. He was naked, and sitting on a mat woven from reeds.

Matteo knew he needed concentration. He unloaded his finds under the canopy, and brought the pouch of fresh berries. He brought the water skin.

While Ahote worked, the slim boy held the water skin to his lips. Ahote drank, focusing on the task at hand. Then Matteo held a raspberry to his lips, and he ate with a little smile. The berry was soft and juicy, slightly crushed by it's time in the pouch.

"The berries are ripe then?" He murmured. He was speaking in french.

"Yes, they weigh the bushes down. I saw a bear nearby, but he didn't bother me. There are plenty of berries for everyone." He spoke in Ahote's language, Sioux.

They had learned each other's languages, were still learning. Matteo had already learned so many languages, that he had a slightly easier time of it. Ahote loved how smooth and flowing Matteo's words were. Matteo liked the difference between Nipmuc and Sioux, Ahote's birth tongue was more rhythmic.

Matteo put another berry on Ahote's tongue, and the young man sucked it from his fingertips, sensually massaging the tips of Matteo's fingers with the tip of his tongue. He tasted the sweetness and the tartness and the saltiness of Matteo's own sweat.

Matteo dropped to his knees next to his lover, and leaned so he was touching Ahote's body. He pressed his chest to Ahote's back, resting his cheek on the side of his lover's head, resting his chin on Ahote's shoulder. He fed Ahote another berry.

Ahote scraped the last bit of tacky skin from the corner of the hide, and then he turned around, sucking on Matteo's fingers up to the knuckle.

They wrestled briefly. Not quickly, or rough, but a slow struggle for dominance. When they untangled, Ahote was on his back on the reed mat, and Matteo eclipsed the sun, making a corona of rays around his shaggy head. Matteo straddled Ahote's lean hips.

Ahote tore away the rabbit-skin loincloth that Ahote wore, and his pale vulnerable genitals bobbed in the sunlight. Matteo leaned forward with a soft groan, and his cock rubbed against Ahote's cock.

Matteo pinned Ahote down with his hands on Ahote's shoulders. He moved his hips in a slow sinuous rubbing motion against Ahote's groin.

Ahote reached between them and took their cocks in the same hand. Matteo's cock was slim and long and as hard as stone. His was thick and bronzed, with a slightly paler head. He rubbed them together, and Matteo let out a panting groan.

Ahote reached for Matteo's head, tangling his fingers in the fiery sunset locks. He pulled Matteo's head down to his own and touched his lips to Matteo's soft pink lips.

There they lay in the sun, feeling the rays beat down on them. Sweat ran in trickles, and their passion bubbled to the surface. Their groins were sticky with sweat and precome as they rubbed and moaned.

Matteo was the first to make a move. He started to slide down his mate's body. He slid down the bronzed skin that was both sticky and slippery with sweat. The smell of his lover was strong and pervasive, sunken into the web of nerves in his brain. He could have sensed his lover for miles.

He lapped droplets of sweat from Ahote's oval nipples, sucking on them until they sharpened into points. He lowered himself, and crouched between Ahote's muscular thighs, slipping Ahote's thick cock into his mouth, feeling his lover groan.

Matteo ran his tongue from the base to the tip, and then drooled all over, soaking Ahote's cock. Matteo sucked on his own fingers and reached behind him to slick his own asshole. He was ready for Ahote, always ready.

He moved upright and looked into his lover's eyes.

"Techihhila." Matteo whispered.

"Je T'aime" Ahote replied.

With that, Matteo knelt on Ahote's cock and let out a wild cry to the blue sky. The wind whipped the grass around them and the sun beat down on their naked interlocked bodies. Matteo sunk down to the root, and used his legs to move up and down, while Ahote grabbed his waist and moved his own hips to fuck his lover deep and strong.

With every scrape of Ahote's cock against his prostate, Matteo let out a sweet high cry. He bellowed his love for everyone to hear. Into the blue bowl of the sky, and the wide everywhere of the grassy plain.

Ahote sat up and cradled Ahote's body in his arms, helping the pup move up and down faster. The heat of their bodies met the heat of the sun and sweat steamed off of their skin.

"Matteo!" Ahote grunted, thrusting his hips in a deep final stroke. He reached to stroke Matteo's throbbing member. The redheaded boy cried out as his come spurted between them, spreading to a fine glaze on their hot skin.

The two of them fell back, and Matteo rested his head on Ahote's chest, panting and feeling his body rise and fall as Ahote gasped for air. He felt his lover kiss him tenderly on the top of the head, and he smiled.

The wolves went to the oasis and washed the sweat from their bodies. Meanwhile the wind whistled through the grass, and the earth continued to make it's slow graceful rotations.

THE END