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“Go." The elder says solemnly, the torch in his hand flickering. The crowd behind him watches in silence, their eyes fixed on the young man standing at the edge of the trees. "And return a man accepted by the Gods.”
Mikha enters the forest without looking back, his head held high. There are no birds, no small animals dashing between the pines. The sultry scent of incense clouds his senses and turns his entire body into a beacon as he travels further away from the village.
He passes trees with thick ribbons tied around their trunks to lead the way for lost villagers, copper bells hanging from high branches. Their ringing is more like an omen now, warnings of the dangers that lurk in the forest and those that are yet to come.
It doesn't take long for the beast to find Mikha. The eyes he can feel watching make his skin crawl and he struggles to inhale the cold air his lungs scream for. Mikha stops abruptly when he sees two eyes glowing in the shadows of the trees. His breathing comes in harsh pants and his legs won't budge, knees locked in place. The wolf moves with a fluid gait, a large form manifesting like a nightmare come to life.
It spares Mikha barely a glance as it approaches, his chest seizing and his breath catching in his throat. It steps in close enough that Mikha could reach out and touch it, but the beast continues forward.
One glance from its golden eyes tells Mikha he is to follow.
On trembling legs he walks forward, bare feet soundless on the fresh snow.
Back on the outskirts of the village Tarik wakes to a silent tent, only one of the oil lamps lit. Shadows loom along the walls and Tarik reaches beside him, the blankets empty and cold.
Sitting up suddenly he ignores the pain as his fresh wound pulls, his frantic eyes searching the dimly lit tent. “N-No,” he whispers softly, throat dry. Tarik throws the blankets back and forces his exhausted body to stand. Fear and panic rise like a swelling tide. “Mikha? Mikha!”
There is no reply and Tarik stomach rolls, bile rising in his throat. Tears flood his eyes and he stumbles toward the entrance of the tent, heart racing.
He has to save Mikha, he has to stop the ritual again before it's too late...
“Whoa!” A hand comes down on his shoulder but Tarik shrugs it off with a sob. The grip tightens, keeping him in place. “Stop!”
The accent is thick and harsh but Tarik fights the man, trying to get away. Sharp pain flares at his side as the stitches pull, the wound reopening with a searing heat and rush of blood.
The tears filling Tarik's eyes make it hard to see. “S-Stop! I h-have to...Mikha!” The man says something that Tarik doesn't understand and he shakes his head, reaching out for the doorway. “M-Mikha!”
Strong arms wrap around Tarik's upper chest and force him to his knees. “You cannot! Stop, you are harming yourself!” Blood soaks the side of the young man's tunic and the pain flares brightly, a soft sob escaping Tarik as he cries out Mikha’s name.
The pain grows nauseating. When he jerks to the side and wretches, the man swears. Tarik is released and he bends over with his hands pressed to the floor, blood dripping from his side.
“M-Mikha,” he sobs, crawling slowly toward the door. Each movement is agony on his wounded body.
The doctor kneels beside him and before Tarik can react, there's a brief pain in his arm. Pulling the syringe out the doctor says something but Tarik doesn't understand.
His body grows heavy and the older man catches him when he slumps forward. Tarik shivers and cries, a cool hand rubbing his back.
“Hush, be still. Mikha is strong.” Tarik's eyes fill with fresh tears that never seem to stop. “You must be strong, too.” The doctor pauses, the drug making Tarik's body heavy and sleepy. The voice is quieter when it speaks again. “He will need you when he returns.”
Tarik’s hands grip the doctor’s jacket weakly. “Mikha,” he whispers before everything goes dark.
The walk through the forest is silent, the hem of the robe draped around Mikha’s shoulders dragging over fresh snow and erasing all traces of his footsteps. Beneath the heavy fabric his naked body trembles with fear and cold.
Sections of Mikha’s long hair have been twisted up into intricate knots and woven with thin ribbons, tiny jewels shining like burning embers. Two slender sticks of incense extend from Mikha’s hair, keeping it pinned up and trailing thin curls of pale smoke as they walk.
A beast and its prey.
Trembling fingers tightening in the fabric of the robe, Mikha glances to the wolf leading him. Standing at its full height, the beast reaches the boy’s shoulders, massive paws leaving a trail that leads deep between snow-covered trees. It's breath condenses in hot puffs of air exhaled through its nose, sharp eyes glowing gold in the dying light.
Thin trails of saliva drip from its muzzle, tiny snowflakes falling onto its fur and gathering there in clusters. The dark creature is beautiful but deadly.
When Mikha stumbles over something beneath the snow, the wolf pauses. Its ominous presence is as steady as the cycles of the moon and it watches and waits, breath fogging the air in front of it. Mikha straightens himself and pushes down the fear that coils in his body like a spring, the two of them moving silently over the snow.
They stop in the middle of a small clearing, moonlight cutting through the trees and illuminating the frozen ground.
Numb fingers reach for the incense. Mikha plucks both sticks from his hair and it falls loose, the wolf’s eyes watching his every move as it paces a few steps away. Keeping his own gaze on the beast Mikha drops the incense into the snow, the glowing embers disappearing with a faint hiss.
The wolf pauses, lip curling back to show off sharp teeth. A warning and a command.
With trembling fingers Mikha slowly removes the robe. His hands shake as he lays it out over the snow and steps onto the center, toes curling in the fabric in search of warmth.
Standing naked in the middle of the forest, Mikha watches the wolf break stride and approach, his heart beating fast against the pale cage of his bones. Terror claws its way up his chest and his breath stalls in his lungs, the brush of fur against his skin sending a shock to his core.
The wolf nudges his thigh with a cold nose and Mikha drops to his knees with the silent command. The chill in the air stings his cheeks and draws the blood closer to the surface, a shiver racing down his spine. His hands and feet ache as he begins losing feeling in them, his body growing numb.
Mikha’s thoughts of the beast’s warm fur upon his frozen skin feel like a betrayal, one that tears into the heart thundering in his chest. Shaking his head sharply Mikha tries to clear his head, to think of nothing. Stiff fingers curl into the robe beneath him and he takes a shaky breath.
Something hot and wet licks his ass and Mikha startles, the hair at the back of his neck and along his arms standing on end. The fluid the village elder had smeared over his hole feels colder as a light breeze traverses his skin.
As the wolf’s body moves over him Mikha can feel its muscles bunched beneath fur, the size and power of the beast overwhelming. Sharp claws tear slits into the robe where dark paws rest on either side of the boy, its body a cage pressing down around him.
The beast could kill him easily, his teeth so close to Mikha's unprotected neck.
Mikha shivers as hot breath caresses his shoulder, a low growl reverberating through his back. Something hot and thick slides over his skin and Mikha feels sick, his stomach rolling as hot tears burn in the corners of his eyes. It pushes against him and Mikha chokes on his next breath.
It's too big, it's too…
With a harsh thrust of its hips the wolf enters the trembling boy beneath it in one swift move.
And oh gods, it hurts.
The pain of the stretch makes Mikha cry out, his voice raw but going unheard. Hot trails of salty tears streak down his cheeks like falling stars. The wolf allows little time to adjust and lifts one massive paw to frame into the boy’s hip, the sting of pain as sharp claws break skin nothing compared to the way Mikha’s body is being forced open.
His fingers had done nothing to prepare him for this. Mikha wants to cry at his own foolishness.
Ruby red blood drips onto the robe as Mikha’s skin splits.
The unforgiving thrusts are quick and hard, the wolf ramming into him without pause. Its fur is warm and carries a woodsy scent but Mikha can focus on nothing but the searing pain that threatens to consume him.
His tears and moans fall on deaf ears, his body forced to accept the shape of the wolf that ravages him. The lubricant and bodily fluids slick the beast’s shaft with each snap of its hips and soon the slide grows easier, the girth barely manageable.
The muffled sound of their bodies meeting echos off the silent trees. The wolf snaps its hips forward in a steady pace, the thick shaft dragging in and out of Mikha’s body.
Dropping his chest to rest on the robe Mikha’s hands fist in the fabric beneath him, the soft fur of the wolf's underbelly sticking to his back with sweat. Saliva drips onto Mikha’s shoulder and he whimpers, biting his lower lip hard in an attempt to stifle the sounds.
Heat pools in Mikha’s belly as the wolf hits something deep in his core, shame flooding tear-stained cheeks. He buries his face in the robe beneath him and tries to breathe, his sobs punched from his chest with every push and drag.
Something pounds against his ass and Mikha tenses in realization. “Please,” he whimpers breathlessly into the fabric beneath him, the wolf’s knot trying to force his body wider. “N-No, it won't fit!”
The urge to bury itself in the young man’s tight ass has the wolf speeding up, its thrusts growing more animalistic and desperate.
After a few thrusts it shoves the knot in with a harsh jerk and Mikha screams his voice raw. The wolf’s hips don't stop and Mikha cries openly into the starlit night, the wolf releasing a haunting howl as it throbs within the virgin body. Heat pools in Mikha’s belly as the beast spills its heavy completion, each ripple and twitch pulling more tears from the boy as it ruts into him.
Mikha’s own dick hangs between his thighs, limp but wet at the tip. Shame is seared across his body like a brand, a throb of pain blooming at his hip from the deep gouges. They'll scar, a reminder that will remain on his skin long after the night is over.
He trembles beneath the creature locked inside him, crying quietly to a symphony of their panting breaths. Spend fills him completely and Mikha’s body begins to cramp, his face scrunching up in pain. When he tries to crawl forward the wolf’s knot tugs his abused body painfully, Mikha’s eyes rolling back as he slumps into unconsciousness.