03.
The Rainy Season
It was hard for Min to believe she wasn't dreaming again when she looked over and saw another person who wasn't her mother, however bestial his appearance was, walking so close she could have reached out and touched him. Sergen was a curious specimen, one she couldn't stop staring at: tall and broad, with arms and legs made of thick, wrought muscle, covered in a mat of thick, grayish fur from the tips of his ears to the bottom of both feet. Inside the little hollow, his face had looked dark, with skin like oiled leather and a mouth of sharp canines; when his
head
changed shape, something she still had trouble processing, it grew longer, more animal-like, with sharp ears atop his head and a long snout. Sergen didn't threaten her again, but rather kept a quick pace through the woods, obviously expecting her to keep up—Min didn't want to find out what might happen if she didn't.
Living in the woods her whole life gave Min some advantages: the soles of her feet were tougher, she wasn't bothered by the sun, and she knew how to tell what direction she was going in. They took what she estimated as a northwesterly direction. That part of the Witch Wood was mostly flat, a gradual downgrade ahead of them into a valley of some kind. Trees grew up so thick it was impossible to see very far, yet the great wolf-man sniffed the air and kept moving in the same general direction. Min had no choice but to follow—he'd threatened her mother's life, and hers besides, but running from him was such a poor choice that it wasn't really a choice at all.
"So why are we going to meet these people of yours?" she asked.
"My tribe are under attack, like I told you," he answered, not looking back. "You and others like you may help turn the tide in our favor."
"'Others like me.' You mean witches."
He nodded, still keeping a steady pace.
"But you're a wolf-man! You killed a bear all by yourself! What is somebody like me going to do? If you want magic, my mother would've been—"
"My choice is made." He stopped, turned, stared her down. He was a brute of a figure, tall and menacing, but Min tried to not shrink back. "I needed one of you, I made the decision, it is done. Accept it. Move on." With that said, he turned and started jogging again.
She was quiet for a moment as she matched his pace. "Then what
is
the threat? Who's attacking your people?"
"They are the children of Bhalot, the She-Bear. They allied themselves with one of your kind, a witch named San." He snarled after saying the name. "She grants them otherworldly strength, yet it corrupts their bodies and minds as you saw."
"But why did the bear attack my mother and I?"
"Who knows?" He shrugged. "I cannot speak for the mind of a witch or the beasts that ally themselves with her. You will assist my people in stopping her, or you may wish the bear had caught you instead." With that ominous warning, the wolf-man turned away and didn't speak again.
The thunder that started rumbling when they emerged from the little ravine finally fulfilled the lingering promise of rain, and in the rainy season that meant it came as a deluge. Min took the opportunity for that second bath she'd been craving, rubbing her hands all over her body as she jogged behind Sergen. The rain was warm on her bare flesh as she rubbed the bit of excess dirt and filth away, washing over the few scabs she'd picked up, but the scratches were shallow and they didn't trouble her. The wound on her shoulder had closed completely due to some power Sergen possessed—her injury was gone, save for sore muscles and a bit of burning if she overused it. Perhaps the Kelash had some magic after all, in spite of what he said.
Thunder crashed and lightning tore the sky as the rain continued. Min scrubbed her breasts and belly clean, making sure to be thorough on her tender flesh, even between her thighs to rinse away any sticky, lingering remnants of his seed. She saw Sergen stealing glances back at her as they jogged along, but he didn't say anything. Her pussy was a touch sore, but she didn't feel any ill after-effects of his claiming her, and—in her heart of hearts—Min didn't mind the soreness, given how pleasurable her first time with a man had been.
They jogged for hours, and the rain refused to let up. By that time it was starting to get dark, and Min halted first to catch her breath, leaning against a thick, knotted tree trunk. "Can't we stop and rest? For a little while?"
Sergen, who still hadn't stopped, finally did so and turned around. He came right up to Min, face to face, and let his eyes bore into her. It was a look of challenge, though she didn't think it one of anger.
"The rain isn't stopping," she said, pushing her wet hair back, swiping a hand across her face. "I'm
not
going to run away." She faced him down, putting her hands on both hips. "I said I'd do anything you wanted, remember? No running. Just...please. I'm tired, so let's rest. At least for a little while."
Sergen narrowed his eyes at her, but Min stood her ground, swallowing past a nervous lump in her throat. After a moment's stalemate, he finally nodded and turned away. Ahe bit back on an urge to sigh with relief and went to look about making some adequate shelter.