My beautiful little angel.
How I love watching you.
Drinking in your form against the backdrop of the sun.
Surely Nur himself must look at you and find you as beautiful as his wife Io, the moon.
Especially when you bathe in the the pond, washing your ivory skin in the cold waters.
And your beautiful hair, even if you take of that eye patch.
Especially if you take of that accursed eyepatch.
Even Alva, the mother of all the Elves, would cower in front of your beauty.
How I love to watch the glistening droplets running down your beautiful curves,
dripping from your hair to your shoulders,
along the ample bosom,
down the stomach
past the divine wonderland between the thighs,
along the shapely legs,
alas,
too bad most of your beautiful legs are hidden in the waters.
Surely your calves must be just as beautiful as the rest of you.
And most likely her little feet as well, with her toes.
Ah if only I could see you in all your divine glory.
If only I could touch you.
If only I could caress you.
If only I could kiss you.
If only I could lick you.
If only I could bite you.
If only he could plunge into you.
If only …
Maybe soon ...
* * *
Run.
Run.
Run.
Don’t look back.
But she did.
The three boys were still chasing her.
Chasing her like an animal.
So she kept running.
Until she stumbled.
Her foot had caught onto an expose root and she fell.
Face first into the ground.
Her wooden basket along with her sickle left her hands, landing somewhere out of reach.
Tasting dirt and iron on her lips, she was dazed.
She wanted to scream. Wanted to hide. Wanted to …
Wanted to be left alone. Why couldn’t these boys just leave her alone.
She never did anything to them, so why did they have to torture her so?
Propping herself up, she looked around again, panting heavily, her lungs screaming for oxygen.
The boys were gone.
Tears started to form in her eyes.
Had they finally given up? Was it enough for them that she fell down, her wavy brown hair covered in dirt, leaves and twigs. Was it enough now, that she had a bloody nose and cut her lips?
A twig snapped to her right.
Her blind spot.
The patch covering her right eye left her with no vision on her that side.
A fact the children of the village routinely took advantage of.
Took advantage of to sling mud balls at her, frequently with little surprises hidden within.
The dung smelled the most … the stones hurt the worst.
Her head snapped to the side, finding a large shadow towering above her.
A large, gangly shadow sporting a vicious grin.
Panting heavily the large shadow spoke in a sarcastic voice.
“Now … now, *cough cough* why’d you … go ahead … and made us … chase after you … like that ...”
She tried to gain some distance, scuttling backwards on all fours. A tree cut her escape short.
“Why ... are you trying ... to run away, huh?”
Her right arm was grabbed and someone lifted her up, almost ripping it out of the shoulder socket. The right sleeve did indeed rip, only a few threads remained, connecting it to her cotton blouse. Her tears now fell freely, and all she could do was stammer.
“Please, please just let me go … I won’t tell *hic* anyone … just let me go home”
“Nah nah na-ah!” he was waving his left finger, and the person to her right was tightening his grip. She winced at the pain, but all it did was make the leader of the trio widen his grin.
“You hear that boys? Says she won’t tell anyone. So, what say you? Should we let her go?”
Sadistic laughter erupted around her.
“I guess that’s a no …”
Her shoulders dropped and she was close to wailing. The only reason she didn’t, probably, was out of spite. He might like it too much. Even more so if she struggled. She had heard the stories.
But her tears could not be stopped.
Suddenly she felt a pressure on her chest. Warm, sweaty fingers snaked their way into her blouse, before ripping it off violently. Despite her attempts to stay quiet, a small shriek escaped her. Much to the amusement to the leader of the boys.
Cold air assaulted her chest, now only covered with the white linen wrapped tightly around her breasts. The leader clicked his tongue, angered that he could not see the ‘prize’ he so desperately wanted.
Than he laughed.
“And here I was thinking you were underdeveloped!”
Her arm started hurting again as the boy to her right tightened his grip. He swallowed loudly, before pushing his hardened loins on her thigh. His ragged panting became even louder as his face drew closer to her ear. She came to believe it was a blessing she couldn’t see his face, especially the mad lust that must surely fill his eyes.
“Come on … say something … try to fool us with your mock-crying!”
She closed her eyes, praying someone would come by … but who would? So deep in the forest?
Maybe a hunter? But wouldn’t he simply join the boys in their ‘game’? Would someone in the village even care? Would they even believe her? All the boys had to do was deny everything …
“I’m sure you’ll enjoy it … you’re a slut anyway, right? Just a dirty little whore!”
Something fell to the ground. She wasn’t sure what it was. Wasn’t sure she wished to know. Did not wish to open her eyes. Maybe he’d finish quick and left her alone ...
The third boy finally opened his mouth, but he sounded far away. Apparently a few meters away, likely keeping a lookout.
“I-I… I can have a g-go, too … right?” came the nervous question from him.
Her heart sank. Why did this have to happen to her?
The sweaty fingers pressed against the skin of her almost exposed chest, tracing their way to her throat before stopping at her chin. She fought against the bile trying to force its way up, regretting the action almost immediately. Maybe they would have stopped if she threw up on him. Stopped after beating her.
Stop after their customary kicking and spitting.
Like two days ago.
Or the week before that.
Squashing her cheeks together with his disgusting fingers, the leader continued his verbal assault, trying to get a rise out of her. Trying to get her to participate in his sadistic game.
“Come now, little slut! Give us a little show! ”
His fingers moved back down to her chest, fingernails digging into her white skin. Digging into the cotton cloth wrapped around her chest.
“Don’t just cry there like a little girl … we all know you’re not some innocent little … you’re just a slut, begging for a good poke … or three ...” She could imagine the sadistic grin on his face.
“Open your eye and look at me!”
Something impacted on her cheek, and burning pain spread from the assault.
He had slapped her.
“I told you to open your eye, bitch!”
Pain erupted on her other side.
He had slapped her again.
“Fine! You’ll open your eye soon enough.”
More rustling of clothes announce his trousers falling to the floor, joining the leather belt with a dagger attached.
“Hold her tight! I want to try doing it standing! You get her afterwards!”
He commanded, and the other captor obliged, grabbing both her arms and pushing her against the tree. She could feel his breath on her ear again, but at least his grinding had ceased. Cold air blew past her ankles as the leader lifted his skirt.
She felt his disgusting eyes on her legs, his gaze crawling towards her nether regions.
“Not only do your hide your cow breasts, bitch, even these legs look damn fine. And here I thought I might not get to enjoy this!”
Her tears welled up again, even her eyepatch was getting damp, the tears forcing their way out of the linens, covered with writing, wrapped around her head, keeping her right eye sealed.
“Be honest, bitch, you’re actually enjoying this, right? It’s in your blood! ...”
Her right eye started to hurt.
Throbbing pain pulsated in beat of her heart.
Turning into clawing, like something was trying to break its way out of the eyeball, fighting against the written seals and scriptures.
Trying to get away!
“You’re just a little demon whor...ugh!”
Both her eyes opened wide, but had to close almost immediately due to the bright whirlwind of light before her. Whatever was trying to escape her right eye suddenly became really still.
When she opened her left eye again, a creature wearing a strange mask was standing right in front of her.
* * *
Aodh was the second youngest of four brothers in the village. His two older brothers were already married and enjoying their wives every night, or so he believed at least.
The youngest was only 6 years old, so he did not have a sweetheart, but was doted on by his mother. A stern woman, but with big breasts. Not that he felt anything from watching her take a bath with his younger brother or anything. It was his mother and she was already past her prime with her 30 years or so.
At least to Aodh.
But Aodh was only 14 years of age, and beginning to discover the joy of the female naked body.
And unlike the other two boys, the big brute Carbey, 16 years old, or the village chiefs son Gilroy, the oldest with 17 years, he never had any spare coin to waste on the one village prostitute. Not that he wanted to, of course. She was old as well, even if she was younger than his mother. Besides too many men and boys had had her. He didn’t want to be the sloppy fiftieth or however many bedded her.
But he could stomach being third.
He knew that the girl from the monastery was still a virgin. At least he believed so.
Her white skin and her big breasts, not as big as his mother’s, mind you, were a welcome treat, whenever he managed to sneak a peek at her washing herself in the pond far away from the monastery. Washing herself, hoping no one would be there to see her.
As she cleaned herself in the water. Washed her hair, and her ample bosom.
The ivory skin turning pink due to the cold water.
He’d relieve his ‘tension’ from having to watch his brother soak up all the affection from his mother, and her weekly baths, while he watched … the girl.
He didn’t even know her name, he noticed. She always was just ‘the girl’ or ‘half-breed’ or even just ‘demon.’ But she must have a name, right?
His thoughts were cut short when he heard the ripping of clothes. Not wanting to miss the show, Aodh turned around to maybe get a glimpse at her breasts. Too bad she covered them with linen. Wrapped them tightly around her chest, squashing those impressives lumps of softness, making herself appear smaller. He wasn’t sure why she did that.
Licking his lips, he began to wonder how things turned out like this. His excitement suppressed his regret. Was there even any guilt?
Why did he have to go and tell the other two of his secret past time? Well, they did tease him about not having seen a naked woman before. His mother and her big breasts didn’t count, he was sure, so he blurted out that he saw the demon’s body. That he saw how she washed herself regularly in the pond just outside the village, at least three times a week.
The boys eyes changed at that, and he was unused by the sudden interest. And the hunger in their eyes. So he told them that he sometimes walked past the pond … not like he sought her out or anything … and happened to see her naked once or twice … ok since he discovered how regularly she washed, three times a week for the last 4 weeks or so … that would make it … he didn’t know… a lot, OK. (Basic Arithmetic: 12 times)
But he had never been so close to her while she was exposed. Gilroy was busy playing his mind games now, something he was known for by pretty much the entire village.
His mother had warned him, naturally, but he didn’t care.
Didn’t listen actually. Something kept taking away his focus.
A jingling sight … two actually hidden behind … Why did he have to tell the both of them of his little discovery? Now his beloved soft valleys would be tainted by others ....
Something happened behind him, and Aodh quickly spun around. Something was there, drawing closer.
A shadow disappeared behind a tree, reappearing and drawing closer, only to be suddenly gone again …
A white face stared at the group from afar, approaching at incredible speed. Flying through the forest , avoiding trees, ducking under branches, then, suddenly flying above a fallen stump. Billowing behind it, a white cloak.
Aodh’s voice was stuck in his throat. He couldn’t utter a peep, even as the white apparition drew closer and closer, flying through the forest, disappearing and reappearing.
He should warn the others, he knew, but his knees started shaking.
Had the girl summoned a demon helper to defend her? Would it rip them apart before he even had a chance to taste those sweet lumps of flesh? Before he could spill his seed on her exposed breasts and in her face? And then inside?
Suddenly the apparition disappeared. It had come less than a stone’s throw away. Only now did he notice, that the strange apparition had produced no sound. No noise. No breaking of any twigs … of course, it was flying … but not even a ‘whooshing’ sound as it cut through the air.
A smack behind him made him linch, and he spun around. There, in front of his … right in front of the girl stood the white ghost, drawing to its full height, as if it just emerged from the ground.
Gilroy was gone, swallowed by the white demon spirit the girl had conjured … no, that was wrong, he landed almost a spear-length away, clutching his head, trying to stand up. But with his pants down between his ankles and exposed nether region, he merely looked foolish, as he repeatedly fell down.
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Carbey looked stunned, unsure what to make of the situation. Gilroy was suddenly gone and instead this white … thing appeared. As if out of thin air … no, that was wrong, he had merely been preoccupied by the exposed flesh and his anticipation. He had noticed the approaching white shape from the left, where the little twerp was supposed to keep watch.
A quick glance told him all he needed to know, the twerp was sitting on his ass, quivering in fear. He was surprised not to find a puddle of piss soaking into the soil. Only slightly surprised,
he knew not to expect much from a 14 year old pervert that liked to watch girls wash themselves. Even his own mother.
A little pervert that peeked.
And only watched.
If he had managed to find the monastery girl alone in the woods, naked, he wouldn’t have been content just looking. Not like anyone would believe her when she’d come crying … well, maybe that priest.
Carbey had no more time to waste on his musings, as the figure in front turned to face him.
Its long cloak was reaching all the way to the floor, and the figure was wearing a strange mask. Mostly white but with a few markings and lines of red and black.
Two dark holes bore into him.
Reading him.
His intention.
Dissecting his every movement.
Like some sort of mind reading demon.
But demons weren’t real.
Even if most of the village believed in them. Just fairy tales like the fox people … ah yes, that was what that mask was meant to represent. One of the fox people of the southern forest. In his mind he connected the fox mask with the sudden rumor of the reemergence of the fox people.
Pushing the girl to the ground - he would enjoy her later with Gilroy - Carbey took a fighting stance.
At least what counted as a fighting stance in this backwater village.
The figure was as tall as an adult, so not much bigger than him, but Carbey was wider, stronger, more muscular, he was sure.
Toiling the field and that mandatory spear training had given him great strength, and hardly anyone in the village could best him.
Not even most of the adults.
Especially not the pompous Gilroy, or the little pervert Aodh.
And surely not this cloaked interloper that dared to ruin his fun.
A noise from the right, Gilroy trying to stand up again, hopefully this time not swinging his pathetic excuse of junk around, but that was the moment Carbey was waiting for.
He lunged.
* * *
She was stunned.
The whirlwind of light that blinded her just moments ago, was standing in front of her.
Her eye never left the white figure before her, even as she was violently pushed to the ground.
The pain in her ankle felt a million miles away. All she could do was stare at the white ‘knight’ in front of her.
The Mask belonged to the Homo Lupus, the fox people rumored to live south-east of the village.
Sometimes a merchant would travel by and regale the children with tales of his many meetings with strange peoples and even stranger wares, among them the ‘Vulpus’.
Most of the villagers believed they were just tall tales, but she knew better.
She had read the scrolls and the books in the monastery.
Books detailing not only the Homo Lupus, but other stories as well.
A collection of traveling accounts. Details of strange lands and strange people.
Sights she would never get to see.
The boy next to her, attacked the ‘Vulpus’ before her, lunging at him with his huge frame and his arms spread wide.
The white cloaked ‘Vulpus’ disappeared.
No, it merely ducked, avoiding the attack with a crouch, the cloak creeping along the ground like a living thing, before suddenly retracting.
The masked ‘Vulpus’ pushed himself off the ground. Something dark shot out of the clock, burying deep into the attacker’s gut.
Lifting the boy up and throwing him over the cloaked figure. Its opponent crashed face first into the dirt, because the figure increased in height and ‘guided’ the boy’s flight into the soil.
The white mass in front of her had erected itself to its full height again, the dark ‘arm’ having disappeared beneath the cloak. The mask on its face was turned away from her, the two black holes for eyes fixated on the big boy that had attacked.
He was writhing on the ground, covering his face. Blood, tears and snot oozed out between the fingers.
Fingers that had gripped her arm only moments before. Fingers that had left marks on her skin. Hands that wanted to push her down and hurt her.
Relieve was starting to spread from the core of her being.
Someone was saving her.
Someone had come to save her.
Hadn’t ignored the deviants trying to do her harm.
Somehow good people still existed.
A noise drew her attention to the third boy, who had managed to stand up, a crazy look in his eyes. He had drawn a dagger from somewhere, holding it with both hands in front of his chest.
He screamed loudly as he sped towards them, spit and snot flying through the air.
The cloaked ‘Vulpus’ turned towards the new attacker and moved maybe half a step back.
But it did not retreat, the holes in its mask remained trained on the attacking boy.
She wanted to close her eyes, wanted to look away, already imagining the scene of carnage. The dagger plunging into the white cloak, drawing blood, killing her would-be-savior.
But she couldn’t.
The third boy sped into the white cloaked figure, no past him, as it narrowly moving out of the way. More like precisely moving just enough.
The boy remained undeterred however, and began slashing from left to right. None of his swings hit though, the dagger only cut air.
His target kept dodging skillfully.
Almost beautifully.
To her it looked almost like a dance, with one very unskilled partner and a graceful white spirit.
The boy was panting hard now, having wasted a lot of his stamina in useless big swings with his weapon. He swung once more, but this time the white cloak drew close, one dark ‘arm’ shooting towards the attacking arm, blocking it, no, catching it while another shot to the boys face.
A bright red bruise remained in the center its center. The nose looked squashed, blood was leaking out and the eyes clamped together in pain, tears forcing their way out of the tear ducts.
But the white cloaked ‘Vulpus’ wasn’t finished.
The black ‘arm’ shot out in quick succession, striking different areas of the boy.
The head, the chest, the shoulder, the head again and once more the chest. By the time she noticed what was happening, the series of attacks were already over, the dagger wielding boy was slumping slowly to the ground, his wrist following shortly thereafter.
The white cloaked ‘Vulpus’ was now armed with the boy’s dagger, and crouched down slowly, purposefully. The gangly first boy was trying to stand up, the second was still writhing in pain while the third boy was sobbing.
They seemed so big before, so dangerous, so inescapable. But now?
They looked just like three little boys that had attacked someone stronger than them.
Somehow she knew her savior was preparing to end the three, but a voice deep within her told her to stop him. He shouldn’t become a murderer. The villagers would hunt him down.
Especially since the gangly one was …
“d-do-DO YOU know WHO I AM?” the gangly one shouted, trying to sound intimidating. The quivering knees and the still exposed loins foiled any such attempt.
“I-I-I AM THE MAYOR’S SON! ONCE I TELL EVERY… eep!” the threat was cut short as the cloaked figure appeared in front of him. Gilroy fell on his exposed ass again.
How did he get so close so quickly, she wondered briefly, before noticing that the figure was brandishing the dagger menacingly. No words were required, the message clear: ‘And who do you think is going to be able to tell anyone anything?’
She had to stop her savior, quickly!
“N-no, please stop!” she exclaimed weakly.
But the figure had heard her. He turned towards her briefly, before looking down on the gangly mayor’s son Gilroy.
Metal flashed briefly as it sped through the air, burying itself into the ground.
Just between Gilroy’s legs.
As everyone’s attention was glued to the dagger embedded between Gilroy’s calves, her vision was filled with white. The ‘Vulpus’ had taken a stance in front of her, shielding her from the three boys.
The rustling sound to the side informed her that the bulky boy, Carbey she believed, was beginning to rise, finally having shaken off the pain. He dragged the other boy, whose name she didn’t know, along with him, and the trio looked towards them.
“N-now, if you leave, now, we … we might show you mercy!”
Having two others on his side gave the mayor’s son Gilroy courage. Especially now that Carbey, the brute, was by his side.
Had he truly already forgotten how easily the other two were bested?
“We … I have two more on my side … So run along now ...” the last part was almost pleading.
Two thuds next to her and a gasp from the trio told her that things weren’t as simple as GIlroy had hoped.
Two more cloaked figures appeared next to the first. One to the left, smaller than the first by a full head, wearing a red cloak while the one to the right wore a dark one.
“F-fine … we will l-leave for now … b-but don’t … don’t think this is over” Gilroy spat out.
His hysteric cry was followed by footsteps, but still the white wall in front of her did not move.
Was it truly over? Was the fright all she would have to remember this by? No, blood flushed to her cheeks, her dress was still in disrepair.
Just as she thought of this, her vision turned white.
She hadn’t lost consciousness, she was sure. The white ‘Vulpus’ had taken of his cloak and in one swift motion draped it around her, covering her exposed chest, surrounding her with warmth.
She looked up at the ‘Vulpus’ with tears in her eyes, only to be shocked.
The figure in front of her did not have the typical foxen ears on top of its head. No, its ears were on the side and not pointed at all. Not like the any of the people in the village. Confusion spread in her mind.
She had never seen a creature with such round ears. Her eyes drifted to the smaller red cloaked figure. That person had the typical foxen ears, and apparently was female, as well as a mask covering her face. She turned her attention to the black cloaked figure to her right, also a female, but almost as large as the one in front of her. Then the figure in front, now dressed in dark clothes, a style she had never seen before, addressed her.
“Are you alright?” the voice was muffled by the mask, but definitely male.
She stared at the man in front of her with wide eyes. Was he not a ‘Vulpis’ after all? The woman to his right was … and they were wearing the same cloaks, albeit with differing colors. Even their masks seemed similar. Just when she thought so, the female took of her mask, revealing her face. She looked cute, with a heart shaped face and golden eyes, small specks of red on her iris.
The dark robed figure turned towards her, revealing her face. Unlike the other two, she was not wearing a mask, so the view was unobstructed. She seemed to be a different species than the ‘Vulpus’ with three sets of eyes and silver hair. The brows extended into ridges, growing along the side of her head, making it look like she was wearing a ringlet, or a crown.
The last one to take off his mask was the ‘white savior’ that had rescued her. An almost square face, with a chiseled jaw and deep green eyes that looked at her with great concern.
It felt warm, somehow.
Warm and safe.
She nodded.
“Can you tell me your name?” His voice was deep, but not too deep.
Not like the voice of the priest in the monastery she lived at. Not even like the merchant that came by every now and then. More like the voice of a man that had just grown out of boyhood. Still so much more mature than even the brutes Garbeys, the oldest of her assailants.
“I-I am Keriana,” she introduced herself shyly.
“Hello, Keriana, these two are my friends Enda ...” he motioned to the ‘Vulpus’ to his right, who only snorted in response, “... and Fío.” The long female to his left did a curtsey, nodding her head ever so slightly.
“And I am Siúlóir”
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Author's Note
Ok, first chapter of the next Volume: Tale of the Half-Blood Miko
I have increased the chapter length to more than 4600 Words, I'll try to stick to the longer size,
unless you, the readers consider it too long.
Next chapter we finally learn the Name of the Fairy, so vote quickly.
Hope you enjoyed the beginning of the story arc.
As mentioned previously, it's supposed to be more along the lines of a 'Who-dunnit' Mystery Story, with magic and fighting and stuff, so lemme know what you think of the idea in the comments.
In fact, let me know what you think of this chapter in any case!
I only did a quick edit after a read-through
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