Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Her wrists burned, chafed raw from the rope binding her wrists, by the time she was dragged, stumbling into the camp. 

Already the pair of apparent hunter-scouts who had caught her off guard in the heart of her forest were laughing and leering to their fellows, recounting their luck in almost literally stumbling across her as they sought more game to feed their large party.

She still couldn't entirely wrap her head around just how it had happened, even hearing their account repeated proudly to each male that appeared to gawk and leer at her in turn as word of her presence in their camp spread from tent to tent and fire to fire. 

Not that she was entirely capable of doing so, utterly overwhelmed and stunned as she was that she, she, had been captured. 

She couldn't imagine her mate submitting without a fight. . .

. . . not that she hadn't fought. The evidence of that was clear on those tugging on the rope binding her wrists; one was clearly limping, favouring what was at the very least a significant bruise, if not a truly cracked bone in his thigh from the kick she'd managed to land with her deceptively powerful hoofed hind leg. And the other was still bleeding from the slash across his chest and up across his jaw that she'd managed to inflict with her elegant but no less dangerous five-pronged antlers. And that was without accounting for the scratches she'd managed to inflict with her sharp, claw-like nails before they'd managed to pin her. 

She stumbled and nearly fell with a soft cry as the rope was yanked further, hauling her unceremoniously further into the camp.

Her delicate fawn ears twitched and flicked and pressed back and down into the mussed braids and twined foliage ornamenting her hair, the jeers and ruckus of the males around her, surrounding her, growing painful in its volume to her sensitive hearing. She whimpered, her head shaking unconsciously, her tail flicking anxiously even pressed close against her legs as it was. She couldn't hear properly, the sounds all blending together into a terrifying muddle. She cried out again as the rope yanked her hands away from her face, unaware until they'd been pulled away that she had been trying to press her palms over her ears in a futile attempt at blocking out the noise. 

And then there was a large hand on her arm. Instinctively she thrashed, trying to loosen the hold. The tusked male - a throc from the mountains, she had recognized distantly shortly before she'd landed her kick, but here, in her forest? - snarled and swore and shook her sharply when she nearly caught him in the face with one sharp tine of her antlers much as she had his thur hunting partner. 

"Feisty thing, isn't she," a massive grey taurid rumbled out, laughing from his crouch next to the closest cook-fire. The throc male holding her bared his intimidating teeth at the laughing male. 

But he didn't snap back. 

Instead she was hauled further still into the camp where, with a snarl and a sharp gesture to another male - this one another throc - he took hold of her wrists and all but tore off the rope. She nearly sobbed for mingled relief and horror at the sight of her raw - but mercifully not bleeding - wrists, the fine downy-pale fur chafed near-off. 

Relief that faded and horror that only grew to mingle with despair as he and the other he'd gestured to swiftly retied her wrists around one of the sturdy oaks that hemmed the clearing where they'd scattered their camp. Her arms only barely encircled the mature trunk of the middle-aged tree.  

She couldn't fathom what they intended with her. Terror clenched her heart; thurs and throcs were known to eat any manner of creature - thurs even being whispered to eat the infants of their enemy clans. And she knew that fenids and taurids were known man-eaters in the lands they were native to, whispers even claiming their bloodlust drove them to revel in devouring their prey living, and she had seen a handful of each on her way through the camp.

Perhaps they intended to feast on her. 

But surely not; they might all be strangers to her forest, but they had to know that to kill and worse, to devour one of her kind was to be cursed by the ancient ones. They had to, right? 

She shuddered, trembling in terror as the throc's hand pressed on the back of her neck, his broad palm spanning from shoulder to shoulder and partway down her back, keeping her cheek pressed against the rough bark and her antlers immobilized as a result. The other was just as unhesitating as it tore the wide panels of her tunic covering her left breast and palming the tender flesh before running down to splay across her flat belly and down further to round her hips, rump and on down her thigh. Dread began to pool with nausea, both beginning a slow, biting crawl up the back of her throat.

Behind them, one of the other throcs, a younger one unless she was much mistaken, was asking the thur hunting-companion what the throc running his hand back up her soft-furred flank had planned. The thur's dismissive, unconcerned tone had her terror amplifying, her blood running cold. 

"Recompense for his leg, I should think." She whimpered, frozen with terror as the large throc brushed the two back panels of her tunic that fell from her waistband aside and yanked at her deer-like tail, causing her to arch her back with a soft cry of pain and surprise. Behind them, the handful of onlookers jeered. 

It was only a heartbeat later that she understood why.

The hot, thick length suddenly pressing against the back of her thigh more than made it clear.

Choking on a cry of alarm, she bucked against the large hand still pinning her neck and cheek painfully against the tree, desperate to get the large male off of her, only to nearly lose her footing as the brute kicked efficiently at her right cloven hoof, forcing her stance wider. And then his cock was prodding carelessly between her thighs, unhurried and seeking. . . 

"No," she begged, the plea stuttered over her tongue, thick from horror and fear and her restricted airway from the sheer pressure he had on her shoulders and neck. A low chuckle rumbled out from the throc behind her, and she felt when he took his cock in hand. "No, no, no-" only for the plea to catch on a pained keen as a sharp, hot lance of pain speared between her legs. Before she could even so much as catch her breath, the throc was pressing forward, steadily shoving deeper into her quaking quim. She choked on a cry, writhing, her hips bucking as she desperately tried to recoil from the invasion, but it only served to work him more inescapably inside her. his large hand tightened on her hip, easily forcing her to arch her back more dramatically to better present her sheath to him. 

Swallowing a pained groan, growing frantic with desperation, she pushed back her instinct to spread her legs wider to accommodate the sudden girth threatening to rend her in two and latched onto the second strongest instinct warring within her-

But with a grunt, he caught her hock just as she was lashing back with a swift kick that would've certainly cracked his knee out from under him. His amusement abruptly gone, he snarled.

And forced her leg up and back, her knee bent in such a way that her hock hooked back over his thick thigh. . . allowing him to surge deeper with a lower, more guttural snarl. 

Deep enough that she felt his bollocks against her inner thigh, pressed tight between his huge body and her far smaller one. Her vision blurred and she panted, struggling to breathe for the too-fast-too-much-too unwelcome pressure impaling her. 

Pants that swiftly grew ragged as he began to thrust, his cock dragging and pushing alternatively languidly slow and with quick snaps within her. Her quim burned and throbbed, her breasts already beginning to ache from the way they swung beneath her, her hip swiftly growing sore from the angle he held it at. She gasped and keened with each jolt behind her, within her, her quim quaking and fluttering around the invasion - her lover's knot tingling with each thrust as his bollocks thumped against it. . . 

She swallowed dryly, only barely able to keep a sudden involuntary moan from slipping free as the tingle began to ripple out from between her legs to settle in her lower belly and heat the blood in her veins. "No, no please. . ." she whined, once more trying to buck him off, to kick at him despite the iron-hold he had on her hock and the cock remorselessly rutting into her keeping her pinned just as effectively as the palm still pressed against her neck and shoulders. 

Once more, the dark chuckle was back amid his rhythmic grunts and, this time, when his pace sped up, it did not slow down; he was no longer interested in prolonging either his pleasure or her torment. It was all she could to to keep breathing, her pants coming as rapid and shallow as his punishing thrusts. Even above the jeers and call of his comrades, she could hear his flesh slapping against hers, nearly loud enough to drown out the thunder of her frantic pulse in her ears. 

He was close; she could feel it in the way his thrusts were growing frenzied and the way his cock was flexing within her. 

It was almost over. . . except, it also meant that. . . no. . . 

"No, no please, don't-" but even as she choked the plea out, he lurched behind her with roar and a pair of abrupt thrusts so sharp and so forcefully final that the tree bark bit painfully into not just the flesh of her cheek, but also her neck and breasts, compressing her back and arching it painfully as he ground his pulsing cock so deep within her she felt his hipbones digging into her flesh. Wet heat flooded her lower belly. A strangled wail tore from her ragged throat as he rolled his hips with a satisfied growl, seeming to revel in the lewd sound of his cock moving within her and forcing his spend to ooze out around it. 

"Perhaps now you've learned your place," he sneered, his voice low and grating as he gave two final, sharp thrusts, as though to punctuate his point. Baring her own teeth in a soft snarl of her own, she bucked again, lashing out with her other leg - it was a small advantage of having her impaled on his still-hard cock the way he did, she supposed grimly - but only managed glancing blow to his calf. 

It wasn't enough to do anything but reignite his ire. With a snarl he heaved atop her, the sharp thrust causing her to cry out as it shoved her violently into the tree, dazing her. 

And then he was pulling out of her with a soft squelch that was unnaturally loud to her sensitive ears. She cried out again as she was abruptly unsupported, the leg he'd held by his hip dropping to impact painfully on the hard-packed ground even as her other nearly collapsed beneath her. It was only her bound arms that kept her even remotely upright. She moaned, her quim clenching around the startling absence of his cock inside her even as the throc's spend spilled out of her, painting thick, murky trails down her pale, silky-furred inner thighs. 

But the crushing hand on her back was finally gone. 

She could breathe properly again. 

"Looks like she hasn't learned yet," she dimly heard the throc declare to the camp to a chorus of more, louder jeering laughter. 

And then another pair of hands were wrenching on her hips, hoisting her upright, startling an involuntary yelp from her. Dazed as she was from the throc's final, retaliatory thrust, she didn't fully comprehend what was happening. 

Not until she was jolted sharply against the tree once more, a second, longer but no less girthy cock sliding hard and sure and distressingly easily between her seed-slicked thighs and deep into her belly with a harsh, gravelly grunt. A low, pained moan tore from deep in her chest and she arched, instinctively trying to cant her body away, to alleviate the pressure in her quim from the unwelcome weight already moving eagerly within her with long, swift strokes. The tips of her hooves scraped helplessly against the ground, the male behind her tall enough that even her long legs couldn't reach the ground, her hips lifted to align with his as they were.

Disoriented and despondent, she choked on a sob as she kicked and flailed weakly. But her newest violator - a thur, she realized detachedly from a glance out of the corner of her eye - was just that little taller, just that little longer limbed than the throc. He just laughed, the sound low and grating as he easily batted away her kicks and simply leant back as she awkwardly tried to tilt her head in such a way as to try and gore him with her antlers, just increasing his pace instead. 

She eyes nearly rolled back in her head, her breath once more forced into, harsh, rapid groaning pants that harmonized discordantly with the lewd, wet sound of his cock sliding rapidly between her shaking thighs and his own grunts of exertion as he rutted her. 

The tingle and warm tight feeling in her lower belly was back.

There was something in his pace and his long, firm strokes as he hauled her back toward him with his firm grip about the hips - no matter that it left her wrists and shoulders aching for the strain it put on them, still bound tight to the tree as she was - that nearly had her sobbing with each aching jolt as his hips smacked against her bottom with lewd, wet sounds. . .  

. . . both in plea for the humiliation and the overwhelming stretch of him moving within her to be over. . . and in shame for the growing need within her for. . . for more.

After what felt like an age, the thur's grunts finally grew lower and sharper, as his strokes within her grew shorter and swifter, until, with a harsh, gutteral shout, he was lurching sharply behind her, grinding his hips hard against her bottom as he pulsed and jerked within her. She shuddered, nausea once churning in her stomach, bile burning the back of her throat, as her quim quaked around his cock, clenching in response to the hot, gushing spurts low in her belly. 

No, no this was wrong! She was one of the guardians, didn't they know that?! She clung to the knowledge like to wood amid the bitter sea. This? This violation was sacrilege. 

Yet. . . still, she had been violated. Was being violated. 

It was an affront to the ancient ways, the ancient laws of her land.

Did they not know they risked the wrath of the forest just for binding her?!

To then dare to desecrate her thus. . . 

Her lips parted around her teeth, grit in a silent, defiant snarl. 

Nevertheless, this time, as the thur reluctantly pulled his cock out of her, already chuckling darkly to his companions about the feel of her squeezing him each time he pushed inside her, her legs truly did give way, unprepared for the abrupt way he let go of her hips. 

Only to cry out weakly, writhing frantically in another hold as she was hauled up the trunk of the tree, her cheek, breasts and belly scraping painfully on the bark, and entered sharply from below, nearly the full weight of yet a third violator pinning her to the tree from head to knee, shoving inside her before the seed of his predecessor had even properly begun to sluice out of her throbbing quim to the ground below. 

The male - another throc, one not quite so broad as the first, even if he still dwarfed her slim frame, and mercifully not quite so girthy within her as he rutted her against the tree. The bark bit harshly into the bare skin of her chest and stomach and the soft-furred flesh of her lower belly, hips and thighs. Her tail was twisted uncomfortably between them and his fetid breath was hot and damp against the back of her neck as he lurched awkwardly inside her, his one hand bruising on the back of her neck to pin her head, the other, crushing her arm into the tree as he hugged it too in pursuit of more leverage to thrust within her. She nearly choked on the moans he was forcing from the back of her throat with every hard thrust, her eyes rolling as the involuntary heat twisting in her belly flared and tightened. 

And then he too was spilling inside her with a harsh grunt and series of sharp, gushing heaves, pressing her so forcefully against the tree, her vision spotted from the sheer pressure of his weight on her chest, neck and deep within her belly as he bucked out the last of his seed as deep as he could force it.

"No more," she moaned breathlessly as she sagged against the tree, limp and too exhausted to resist any longer, another pair of hands already manoeuvring her into position even as the second throc stepped back from her, whimpering at the sticky drag of his softening cock as it tugged free of her. 

Seed splashed to the ground, gushing from within her.

"No more?" She felt too weak to even sob as yet another, third throc was hitching her strengthless hind legs back to splay around his hips with a hard hold around each of her thighs even as he impaled her with a single, brutal slide of his cock. "You'll be enjoying this before long," he growled with a dark chuckle as he immediately fell into a shallow, rapid pace within her, his bollocks smacking hard against her lover's knot as the wet sound of his thrusts seemed to echo in her ears along side her deafening pulse. She moaned with each desperate pant, her eyes rolling in her head, her quim spasming as she teetered on the verge of passing out.

It was too much, too quickly. She was too full, too sore.

Too hot, too much. . .

The third throc laughed and roared as his cock leapt and spilled, warm seed forced out from between their joined bodies in loud, wet spurts to dribble down her thighs in thick, sticky strings.

Despondent, she surrendered.

Heat surged through her veins like liquid lightning with a snap the rippled from deep in her belly through her spasming body as a choking cry tore from her throat.

And even as another stepped forward to violate her abused body, her world went dark.

Chapter Text

The days bled to nights and back to days again. 

She slept in fits and spurts, unable to truly rest, bound as she was and subjected to the camp's depraved attentions as she was. 

She'd lost count that first day and night how many times she'd been taken. Dimly, she recalled stirring when a male spilled within her or on her flesh, or the first and then the second time her sheath had been spared even as other parts of her had been abused. Other times only when they were first sheathing themselves - clumsily; swiftly; slowly; deftly.

She'd only finally roused properly when they'd cut her loose and, as she'd collapsed into the spend-clumped leaf-litter that surrounded the tree, doused her with the first bucket of tepid water, rinsing at least some of the seed from her sleekly-furred thighs, back and lower legs - not that it truly washed away the crusted or near-dried stains, nor fully rinsed even then fresher, still sticky fluids from the normally thick, downy fur feathering her lower legs from her hocks down to her dainty hooves.

Still coughing and spluttering, blinking and stunned, she hadn't even thought to struggle as one of the throcs - this one oddly lanky for his race - hooked an arm around her waist and half-carried, half-dragged her to the centre of the camp. 

Where an odd, hastily lashed together frame had been constructed. A started grunt and cry was forced from her chest as the lanky throc - a youth, she belatedly realized - pitched her back atop the subtly-angled slatted surface of the wooden table-like rack while a larger, burlier one with long-healed burns and scars on his massive forearms and tusks thicker than her wrists - efficiently caught and rebound her wrists and swiftly secured them above her head to the far edge of the sturdy frame with thick leathers thongs. 

Leaving her draped across the slatted surface of the construct, the edge hitting the crest of her hips, leaving her legs to dangle over the edge.

Presenting her like a meal to be feasted upon.

She'd fought then, twisting and turning, trying to slip her hands free or to tear at the leather lashings holding her in place with her delicate claws. Only to be shocked to stillness once more as a second bucket-full of water - this time freshly drawn from the nearby stream and thus still painfully brisk was emptied over her.

It was then that the first taurid had taken her, still soaked and shivering in the morning air. 

She'd truly cried out then; thrashing as he'd flipped her with ease onto her belly, notched his cock to her already apprehensively quaking quim and shoved ruthlessly inside. And then he'd proceeded to rut her with careless efficiency, brutally pushing deeper and deeper until he met her womb, his length sheathed and bucking shallowly, prodding hard against her innermost flesh with little care over and over in swift succession. 

And then it was over with a triumphant bellow that made her ears ring. Liquid heat had surged within her, pulsing thickly and repeatedly until his spend wasn't just oozing out from between the girth of his cock and her aching, stretched flesh, but being forced out in sticky spurts. Dimly, she had felt his cock-head flare within her, but he did not soften and withdraw as she had expected.

Instead he had resumed his rutting with vigor, his massive, two fingered hands with their hoof-like nails all but consuming her lithe, much smaller body as he gripped her waist and hips and hauled her back upon his cock. 

She'd nearly succumbed to both the darkness of oblivion and the surge of rapturous heat right then and there.  

Then he'd laughed and grunted out that taurids didn't couple, they bred, and proceeded to spend himself a second time with a throatier bellow, filling her belly to the point of pain with more of his unsettlingly thick seed, making it truly impossible to breathe for the pressure of both his cock and the pulses spurting from it deep within her body.

The thur that had proceeded to take his turn upon her almost the moment the taurid's cock had dragged out of her in a cascade of spend had been particularly intrigued by the taurid's declaration, barely paying heed to the thick strings of taurid seed still dangling between his comrade's limply spent cock and her quim as he slid his own substantial cock eagerly in to the root. His own excitement only seemed to grow the more he reminisced to the taurid on the tenderness of a newborn's flesh, proceeding to muse absently if he might be permitted to sample any offspring she birthed from their camp's efforts upon her. 

The taurid had merely shrugged, straightening his loinclout and thick belt as his cock comfortably returned to its resting length. "Depends on whose spawn she'd whelps."

The thur had snarled, contemplative and torn between disappointment and hope, and redoubled his pace and the force of his thrusts such that her head spun and ached from the remorseless jolts he slammed through her exhausted body.

As though his brutality and enthusiasm would guarantee that her belly would swell with a babe he could feast upon. 

After that she often saw that particular thur squatting not far away whenever his duties allowed, contemplatively and eagerly taking his cock in hand in turns as he watched cock after cock disappear between her legs until they each emerged, spent and glistening with strings of seed, when he would turn his hungry pale gaze to her belly until the next came to take their pleasure on her. 

Yet, despite his particular interest, he had only taken her twice more that she could recall - truly, they had all begun to blur together, thurs and throcs in particular. She seemed to appeal to the throcs most, each of them among the party having taken their pleasure from her bruised and aching body at least once and most again over the course of a day, each leaving her with shaking legs and swallowing sobs, thick and sticky, in the back of her throat. 

Mercifully, it was rare that any dared try and leave his seed thus as well. 

That encounter had left her choking on a bitter taste, her jaw sore, throat raw and face sticky with more than just tears and drippings from her nose, but had seen the daring younger male throc with deep slashes to his chest and arms. 

And while he had boasted of his accomplishment, only one other - also young, but still clearly no longer a youth but a full-grown male - had dared risk her deceptively strong, sharp antlers, determined that, once he had a hold on them, he'd have her conquered.

He had underestimated her strength. 

And had been gored for his trouble. 

She only prayed that none acted on the idea to try and take her antlers from her. 

Perhaps they feared that to do so would kill her, ending their fun. . . much as she too considered the appeal of such as the days and the violations continued on and on. . .

It had long since become a sickening, exhausting blur of heat and sweat, heaving and grunts and growls and roars, whimpers and moans and aches and jolts, hands and bruises and cocks of every length, shape and girth.

And yet, all around her, the camp plodded on as though she wasn't being regularly violated in their midst as they went about their duties and tasks, bickering and cooking and japing around the cook fires, singing and drinking and arguing even as they oiled and sharpened weapons and cleaned and mended their leathers and clothes. It was all so... normal. Mundane, even. Grumbling about each others' snores and complaining of each others' stinks and laughing amongst themselves.

As if she didn't have the cock of one of their fellows inside her more often than not in the heart of their camp even as they did.

Yet, often as the afternoon sun was just beginning to turn to the dusky gold of evening, she would be given respite - a plate with crusts and rinds would be placed near her hands and she'd be let alone to haul herself further up the rack so that she might feed herself. 

The first two days she ignored the offering, even going so far as to shove it to the dirt with a snarling hiss the second day. 

The third day the thur that delivered it - a lean, smoky-haired one with tusks longer than the length of her two hands - laughed with a sneer and shrugged before rounding the table and hauling her back down to the edge by her hocks, her no-longer sleek fur chafing on the rough wood of the slats supporting her. 

And flipped her with painfully little effort onto her back, wrenching her thighs apart as the breath was slammed out of her. 

It was the first time she had been forced to face one of her violators as they rutted her. With a breathless sob, she squeezed her eyes shut as his malehood bobbed and bumped atop her belly. She hadn't wanted to see it disappear inside her.

Not when she felt it all too keenly.

A moan had torn from deep in her throat, her back arching as he shoved inside her, the girth of him mercifully slight compared to the thick heft of the throcs or the sheer massive length and breadth of the taurid. Nevertheless, her thighs had trembled and instinctively splayed wider and her sheath had quaked as he rutted deeper, one large hand pressing hard on her belly, fingers grazing the bottoms of her aching breasts and palm resting on the crests of her hips, grunting excitedly as he felt his own cock moving beneath her flesh, even as the other pawed clumsily at her jolting breasts. 

"Didn't take her meal, eh, brother?" The smoky-haired thur had grunted, his sneering grin widening as his war-brother approached. "I've been rather looking for an excuse to teach another lesson. What do you say?" The smoky-haired thur had laughed low in this throat between panting grunts. But his thrusts between her legs had slowed and stilled. 

Yet, he hadn't withdrawn. 

Fear had frozen like a jagged blade in her chest as she felt a second pair of large hands on her thigh, angling her leg to hitch higher around the first thur's hip even as he had twisted to face his brother. 

It was then that the leather thong holding her bound wrists over her head had been loosened. 

But before she could even consider lashing out at the thur before her or at his grey-blue-haired war-brother, fire had bloomed across the side of her face. 

And the hand large enough to span from her sternum to her hips was suddenly wrapped tight across her jaw and neck, fingers and thumb framing her face and making it hard to breathe. Her left fawn-like ear prickled with pain, pinned awkwardly as it had been by his long fingers. 

She couldn't move her head. 

A furious, desperate sob caught painfully in her throat as he had turned, leaning back against the rack-frame, his other hand bracing almost lazily behind him as she dangled, impaled helplessly on his cock, her legs twitching and kicking around his hips and thick thighs in an instinctive and futile effort to free herself. 

She had only succeeded in impaling herself further.

His broad, long fingered hand had been hot and unsettlingly dry as it encircled most of her head, utterly immobilizing her as his grey-blue-haired brother loomed behind her, above them both. The smoky-haired thur had leaned back further then, dropping back to his elbow as his brother considered them both.

The slick sound of his hand on his cock behind her had drowned out the roar of her pulse and the crass banter of what had come next passed easily between them. 

The hold on her head had tightened as she snarled and struggled, trying desperately to catch one of them with her her antlers, to kick at one of them with her sharp hooves, to forestall them any way she could as the blunt probing of the second male's cock had pressed hard against her bottom even as the thur behind her pried her tail from where it tucked tight between her legs with unsettling care, even tenderness. 

And oh how the first male had squeezed, making her head pound every time she dared to shut her eyes. He'd only laughed as she beat on his muscled chest with her bound hands, seeming to find amusement when her delicate claws managed to score at his ruddy-purple-green flesh through the thick bindings, even when she managed to draw blood.

It had all been for naught. 

She had keened, her eyes rolling back in her head and her body threatening to snap as she struggled to arch away from the sheer pressure within her as the second thur sheathed himself slowly, carefully slowly inside her body. She had clawed at the smoky-haired thur, writhing as the two males began to rock and flex their lean, powerful bodies beneath and behind her in turn. Her mouth dropped open, panting and gasping for air as her existence narrowed to the presence of the two cocks sliding and dragging slick and loud and obscenely within her. 

Nothing else had existed but the push and pull between her legs, separated only by the thinnest, most sensitive parts of her inner flesh. Nothing but the suffocating, bitter musk of their skin and sweat and the feel of their hard bodies pressing in on her much smaller frame, of their hands on her breasts, her hips, her belly and tight around her head and throat.

Her legs had kicked and trembled uselessly, splayed across both their muscled thighs as they rutted her together, panting and grunting in discordant rhythm as from below she had been tormented with sharp, shallow thrusts while behind swiftly had her vision spotting with slow, deep heaves atop them both. The weight against her back had been almost as overwhelming as the dual lurches of the brutal-hard cocks within her. 

All too soon, yet not soon enough, the thur beneath her had grimaced, his teeth baring in a rictus of pleasure-pain as his muscular body finally tensed. Her own body had long since gone limp, surrendering to the throb and burn and pure heat surging between the two hard bodies pinning her slender frame between them. His dark eyes had gleamed, sliding down her body to where his belly had gone rock-hard and his cock had begun to pulse inside her. 

He had chuckled and grinned, then at the smears of seed leaking in thick strings from between her legs and atop his thighs and belly.

With a long, guttural groan, his head fell back, his hips jerking sharply up into hers, causing his war-brother to lose his own rhythm with a sharp curse. Hard hands had gripped tight around her waist, holding her steady as the last spurts of the smoky-haired thur's spend had spilled eagerly in her quim and the grey-blue-haired brother redoubled his rutting, abandoning his steady pace for one far more shallow and disjointed. 

And then he had spilled too. She had whimpered as yet more spend was forced out from between their tightly-sheathed flesh, hot and sticky and oozing from where the two males were buried deep within her. It had been too much. She had been too full. A sob had caught, dry and despairing as the first thur's hand pushed against her throat, angling her head back, causing her quaking body to bow as the two of them had rocked their way through their peaks, groaning and chuckling together as her hands had scrabbled weakly at his wrist. Her belly had tensed and ached, her quim fluttering around the cock still impaling her. 

Shame had brought hot tears to her eyes as she recognized her body had craved. . . more. 

A soft cry had whimpered free then as first the thur behind her withdrew - slow and deliberate, the grey-blue-haired brother chuckling lowly as he slid out of her with a lewd, slick pop and renewed gush of warmth, that time spilling out of her and down the backs of her thighs - then the one beneath her had twisted and straightened, depositing her gracelessly back atop the rack as he too had slid out of her. 

She had barely noticed them re-lashing her hands to the opposite end of the rack, too dazed and stunned from the way her body had cried out even as it had exalted in the sudden emptiness between her nerveless legs and the sensation of thick, uncomfortably warm fluid draining out of her in heavy, stringy drops to the hard-packed dirt beneath her. 

It had been two more days before they had offered her food again. 

And she had nearly gagged on realizing she had nearly finished it before even fully realizing she'd reached for it. 

She'd still been sobbing and gagging quietly as dusk had fallen and the first throc of the evening had shoved himself brutally between her strengthless legs. 

It was almost welcomed - the aching, dull throb of her quim as the hot, now long familiar weight of the throc's girth lurched and dragged deep in her belly. . . only. . . no. . . it was. . . different. The girth still stretched her flesh near to the point of pain, yet, it wasn't so thick as she'd come to expect from a throc, nor so long as a thur. Definitely not so devastating as a taurid. The male's weight settled further across her back, and she whimpered as hot breath and the slick, sharp slide of teeth scraped along the flesh of her shoulder. A low, dark growl vibrated through her right down to her bones. 

Right as the cock burrowing into her sheathed itself completely. 

And a hot, broad tongue dragged up between her shoulder blades as the male's pace began to quicken further. 

Slamming something hard and thicker still than a throc's girth against the entrance to her quim.

She stirred, blearily glancing over her shoulder. 

Her skin suddenly felt cold as fear settled in the pit of her stomach. 

A fenid. 

It was only then that she realized with horror that she'd been wrong; she hadn't been violated by all the beasts of the war camp.

Until that moment, she'd been spared one.

But even as a frightened keen built in the back of her throat and her body tensed, the fenid was freezing with a challenging snarl. 

And she cried out as a second vicious snarl answered right as she was suddenly, violently emptied. 

No sooner had she realized that a second, larger fenid had bodily hauled his smaller packmate off her, than he was shoving his snout between her legs, his large, clawed hands gripping her hips tight enough that the tips drew beads of blood. She scrabbled at the bindings trapping her wrists and securing her to the rack, instinctively trying the pull herself away from the beast. But his hold was too tight. Growling, clearly pleased his tongue licked a broad strip between her legs. 

And then his weight was crushing down on her and his cock was shoving gracelessly inside her. She cried out, her vision spotting as he began to rut her viciously, his cock driving rapidly between her uselessly kicking hindlegs, the large mass of tissue at its base brutally demanding entrance. Fangs like daggers, strung with thick, glistening slaver, hovered next to her face and deep, growling pants fanning fetid breath across her skin as a canine tongue flicked and licked at yellow-white canines longer than her finger. Coarse fur chafed her back and thighs, and his clawed hands were bruising on her hips. She could barely breathe, her body overwhelmed by the weight of the massive canid male across her back and the remorseless pace of his frantic rutting. Soft, keening pants were forced past her grit teeth, her head falling forward, spinning from the rapid onslaught of the fenid's cock within her, against her. 

Until, with a loud, obscene squelch, her quim surrendered. She cried out, a wail tearing from low in her throat as the solid mass of was forced between her thighs to lodge painfully within her. Her vision went white as heat surged in her belly, her body throbbing with blinding pleasure that mingled with the euphoric torment of the fenid's seed spurting in sharp, pulsing gouts of liquid heat within her. The fenid growled out a howl, his hips grinding hard against her bottom as he emptied more and more and more of his seed inside her. She whimpered, her belly aching sharply as it filled without relief, the mass of flesh simply too large and lodged too tight for naught by the barest drops of spend to seep out from between their bodies.

She sobbed as the fenid stilled, but didn't withdraw from her abused quim.

It was then, as he shifted, settling his weight more comfortably atop her back that realization cut through the haze of pleasure and agony radiating out from between her legs in hot, angry throbs.

He couldn't withdraw.

They were locked together until his cock softened and the mass deflated.

Her body quaked around him, objecting bitterly to the impossibly solid bulb of flesh locking the fenid inside her. And cried out weakly as he lurched atop her with a snarl and a vicious swipe of claws at an angrily approaching throc. A white-hot slice of pain lancing up from between her shaking thighs to make her head spin and her stomach rebel. 

And as more and more furious voices rose around them, her pulse roared viciously in her ears as the fenid hunkered almost protectively atop her, his fangs bared and snarling ferally at any who ventured too close. But she barely heard it, as her spinning head seemed to make the world tilt violently around her and the painfully loud sounds of the angry males denied their turn between her legs by the fenid's overly possessive cock dimmed as though water filled her ears, her vision went black. 

She knew no more.

Chapter Text

She gasped, choking and coughing as a shock of frigid water forced her from the blissful darkness of unconsciousness. She jerked and spasmed, curling instinctively in on herself. For a brief, horrifying moment, her body screamed with agony from the chill of the water on her bruised and aching flesh and the horrific memory of the fenid's cock locked inescapably and torturously within her. 

Only to realize between one blissful blink and the next that the space between her legs was mercifully, euphorically empty. 

Her thighs were pressed tightly closed, something she had been utterly unable to do, the canid-beast's cock had stretched her so wide. 

A tears of relief and hopelessness spilled, hot and swift down her grim-streaked cheeks. 

She still heard the camp continuing on around her, shouts and boisterous laughter and crass jeers and insults rang through the clearing as the collection of males went about their tasks. The air was still thick with the scents of unwashed males of difference races, charred meat, rancid sweat, metal oils and leather. And around her. . . 

A horrified whimper caught in her throat as she reluctantly pried her eyes open. And immediately recoiled. Almost directly in her line of sight, off near the tree where she'd first been restrained for the camp's entertainment, was the fenid. A thick, metal and leather muzzle was tightly banded about his slavering jaws and his clawed arms and legs were securely hobbled so that he was restrained on all fours like a true dumb beast.

And a burly thur with a broken tuck that she viscerally remembered rutting between her own legs was thrusting with hoarse laughter behind the snarling and whining fenid, the base of his green-grey cock disappearing and reappearing rapidly from beneath the canid's tail.

"The dogs know better than to knot our prizes," a deep, gravelly voice spoke from above her. Gasping, she instinctively curled tighter around herself even as she snapped her head around to the source of the voice. Her head spun at the sudden movement and her stomach threatened to heave up what little food she'd been given last. Looming above her, a massive yotan jerked a chin away toward the young throc holding the dripping bucket that had clearly been the source of her wake-up call. Ducking his head even as he darted a yearning glance toward her - or more accurately, toward where her tail was tightly curled between her legs, shielding her quim from sight - the youth obeyed the implied command without question, skulking away.

It was then that the yotan looked back down at her. His head tilted, his dimly glowing blue eyes narrowing on her in consideration. "But, clearly, instinct overrode his typically slavish devotion to my orders," he mused. 

And something heavy and jagged sunk in the pit of her stomach. 

This yotan was the leader of the camp. 

And her gaze settled the white leather sash draped across his heavily muscled chest.

Her stomach roiled violently with revulsion and horrified realization.

It was because of him that her forest, her home, her body was being defiled. 

A cold, vicious rage sparked to life in her chest, and distantly she felt her throat vibrate with a low, threatening growl, her lip starting to curl away from her own small, elegant fangs. The giant male chuckled low in his throat, and one of his hands reached for her from where it had been clasped behind his back. She snapped at him, twisting her head on feral instinct to try and gore his hand, to keep him from touching her. His sharply hooked nose crinkled, a half-sneer, half-grin causing his upper lip to twitch. 

He leaned over the table, bracing hands larger than the span of her torso  on the corners of the rack that restrained her. He hummed, his nostrils flaring as he inhaled, long and deep. "It's certainly possible," he mused. And straightened. "Perhaps g'Rorc's fantasy of something planting in your womb has some merit after all. Though. . . given what you are, he's a fool to think I'd let him eat anything so valuable." The cold rage in her chest flared and mingled with horror and despair. Something he must have seen in her eyes. His lip twitched again. "You really thought no one in my camp realized what you are?" 

The despair and horror threatened to overwhelm the rage. 

The yotan chuckled darkly again. 

And with a grunt of determination, his broad three-fingered hand closed around her hindleg and hauled her toward him. 

Where already his breeches were parted and his loinclout fallen aside as his eager cock made its readiness known. 

With a snarling cry she kicked sharply at him, one cloven hoof clipping his thick forearm and drawing a trail of dark, bluish blood. 

The camp's leader didn't even flinch. He simply caught her leg in his other hand and jerked her sharply closer. She hissed at the harsh scrap of the wooden slats beneath her back catching and yanking painfully at her deer-like tail and digging sharply into her once silky-sleek flanks, the pale fur matted and scraped with crust and smears of old seed. She cried out at the sharp ache as her shoulders were wrenched taut and unnaturally back, her wrists still securely lashed as they were to the far frame of the rack. One of the tines of her antlers dug sharply into the flesh of her upper arm, drawing blood. She realized with horror that it had been purposefully done; her arms had pinned her antlers, and the only way she could prevent the tines from further damaging her flesh, she was utterly unable to look away as the yotan leader impassively looked down upon her, considering how best to rut her.

No, she realized with dawning horror as what he'd said finally sunk in. . . 

To. . . to breed her.

By all the ancient ones, he intended to breed his spawn into her. Her stomach churned violently.

If one of the many, many who had violated her had not managed to do so already.

Ancient ones save her, was it even possible?

Her back arched and a plaintive wail escaped from the back of her throat as the head of his cock notched at her entrance and, with a grunt and an efficient flex of his hips, her abused body was forced to part around his. Her body shook and quaked, bucking as her quim burned and stretched. But she could only watch in horrified despair as more and more of his substantial length slowly worked deeper, feeling with exquisite discomfort precisely how much further each deliberate flex and pull impaled him inside her. 

All the ancient ones help her, but her body was responding. A sob caught with sickening shame in her throat as her sheath quivered and her blood warmed. Her thighs trembled, instinctively trying to splay wider to accommodate the sheer girth of the massive yotan. Another sob threatened, hot, anguished tears spilling down her cheeks. She couldn't look away. She could only stare with horrified fascination at the way his cock glistened as it dragged briefly back out of her before he thrust it deeper. 

And her eyes rolled back as a guttural groan was dragged from deep in her chest, her back bowing off the slats of the rack as she bucked in mingled desperation to get him out of her and plea to surge deeper as he was abruptly prodding hard against the door of her womb.

His substantial cock was almost entirely sheathed.

And she wanted to weep at the subtle swell in her belly betraying just how deep inside her he was.

A gravelly groan seemed to vibrate from deep in his chest all the way down through his cock and right through her to the marrow of her bones.

It was only then that he began rutting her in truth. 

Panting, keening cried were jostled from the back of her throat as her entire body was jolted over and over from the rapid pace of his thrusts. His broad hands had dropped from her legs - now limply splayed around his rolling hips - to wrap almost completely around her hips, holding her inescapably in place. Her head, her shoulders, her breasts all ached from the strain and the impacts of his hips on hers. Yet, she felt so incoherently, blissfully full. The muscles of his abdomen tensed and rippled, his massive thighs cording within his leather breeches from the strain of his stance compensating for his stature as compared to the height of the rack she was bound to. 

"From now on," he grit out between harsh grunts, "only myself or my strongest and favoured males will mount you." She writhed, a despairing, furious wail twisting into a moaning cry. "The offspring you breed for us must be sired by the strongest among us." 

And with that, he grunted harshly, and his hips ground painfully against her, his bollocks tightening against her bottom. 

He jerked and lurched between her splayed thighs, and deep in her belly, she felt the tell-tale hot gush of his spend spurting free. She moaned, her eyes squeezing shut even as her body shook and warmth bloomed beneath her skin in dull, tingling waves, willing, praying, that the door to her womb held firm.

A soft cry dragged from her chest as he slowly dragged himself free, her whole body shuddering at the sensation of fullness diminished, her quim clenching dejectedly at being so suddenly and uncomfortably empty. Spend spilled out of her as his softening cock left her body with a lewd, wet sound, trailing thick, sticky strings of seed that stretched and stretched until they gave way, dropping with soft, wet plops to cling to her sticky thighs and to pool on the hard-packed dirt beneath the spend-stained wood of the rack she was displayed upon. 

She sagged, her breaths coming in sharp, shallow heaves as she fought against the surge of bile burning the back of her throat. 

His soft chuckle drew her bleary gaze, the yotan eying her as he briskly tucked his cock back beneath his loinclout. 

He made a sharp gesture with his chin, then. 

And a sob caught in her throat, her teeth gritting as another pair of hands roughly shoved her legs up and back, bending her knees up by her ribs and pressing her hocks down hard to her thighs. The smoky-haired thur leered down at her as, with a lurch, his cock shoved hard and deep, sliding with uncomfortable ease swift and deep into her belly. 

Yet she didn't look away from the yotan. 

She was certain hate gleamed in her eyes. 

Yet, she felt unaccountably. . . calm. 

Even as the thur rutted and grunted and thrust within her traitorously quaking quim, she stared at the smugly sneering yotan leader. 

"He's going to kill you all," she murmured, her voice soft and steady but for the faint quaver the jolt of the thur heaving between her legs caused.

The yotan huffed, amused. Her chin lifted slightly. 

"And I will look down on you as your blood pays recompense for your sacrilege against me and my home." A flicker of something surfaced in his dully-glowing eyes, but in a blink it was gone, and the yotan chuckled darkly once more. She swallowed back a groan as liquid heat bloomed in her belly a second time as the thur grunted and lurched. But already the yotan was gesturing another male forward. 

Yet her resolve didn't falter as the largest of the three taurids in the company lumbered forward and didn't even hesitate to shove his cock inside her seed-weeping quim. 

"And I will look down on you as our offspring squeezes out of that welcoming cunt of yours," he said dismissively back, "waiting patiently to breed another into you, and another and another until I have a company of the finest guardian-bred warriors this side of the sun. We will be a thing of legends, and all will fear us." The taurid bellowed in triumph, the head of his cock flaring deep in her belly as hot gouts of seed spurted within her. Her vision threatened to waver, the pressure between her limply splayed thighs and within her faintly distended belly from the cock sheathed to the hilt within her threatening her grasp on consciousness.

Yet she held on, refusing to cower or waver beneath the yotan's heavy gaze. 

No, she would not submit. 

She would bide her time. 

Because somehow, she just knew she would have her retribution.

And as the taurid resumed his rutting, eagerly working his seed deeper toward the door of her womb, the yotan was already waving forward the third of his favoured males - a broad, russet-skinned older male with dark ochre-hued markings branded across his forearms, pectorals and lower abdominal muscles that was already fisting his cock and eying her seed-smeared flesh with interest.    

Long into the evening, the four males worked to breed her. And not once did she allow herself to falter beneath the yotan leader's challenging gaze. 

Because she could feel it in the depths of her soul that he was coming for her.

And he would show them no mercy.

Chapter Text

The russet-skinned throc was rutting between her legs for the second time that night when the first scream broke the almost peaceful quiet of the sleeping camp.

The fires had died down and most of the company had reluctantly turned to their bedrolls, many still grumbling over their leader's edict that none but his seconds were permitted to rut her anymore.

But none dared to defy their leader. Not after the fenid had done so by knotting her despite explicit orders that none of their race were to touch her. Barely an hour had gone by in the days since, save for the depths of the night, where the usual camp sounds were punctuated by the poor beast's pitiful yelps and whines as the rest of the company took out their frustrations at being denied access to her beneath his tail. 

Not that it spared her. Between the yotan leader and his favoured throc, thur and taurid, she was rarely empty, her quim nearly constantly weeping thick, sticky trickles of spend that the company's four most dominant males were happy to refresh at near every opportunity. 

She moaned, rousing from the detached drowse that her mornings, evenings and nights had blurred into. Between her legs, the girthy fullness stilled from its drag between her splayed thighs as the throc grunted, his abdominal and chest muscles tensing as he twisted, suddenly alert despite his cock twitching impatiently inside her as another agonized scream and another ripped through the camp, only to be abruptly cut off. 

The camp erupted in chaos. Roars and bellows and screams rose and mingled terrifyingly with snarls and yowls and howls. The stench of ripped entrails and blood bloomed, overwhelming the stale sweat and grime of the camp. Roaring his own displeasure, the yotun stormed from his tent behind the rack she was draped on, snarling out orders and threats to his blearily waking males, the white leather of his sash seeming to glow like a beacon across his chest in the moonlight, a thick bladed club already in hand. With a furious sneer, his massive three-fingered hand closed around the throat russet-skinned orc looming over her, bodily heaving him off her. She whimpered, her body twitching and instinctively curling around her abruptly empty quim. 

Panting from a sudden storm of fear and hope and unfulfilled warmth low in her belly, she hauled herself further up onto the surface of her rack, huddling closer to the frame her bound wrists were lashed to. 

And something equally warm and decidedly vindictive bloomed in her chest to echo the ache pulsing between her thighs as white-yellow eyes gleamed out of the darkness. And rose, and rose, and rose.

Despite himself, the yotan leader hesitated as the eyes levelly met his from the unnatural dark of the forest. 

And around him, those left of his company fell in around him - if her guess was right, in the handful of moments that had passed since the first scream broke the silence of the night, half the company had already fallen. 

Around the gathered remnants of the yotan's company more lights gleamed, more and more eyes blinking menacingly out of the dark shadows beneath the trees. And soft chuffs and snarls whispered out from beneath the shadows of the forest. Unsettled, the remaining throcs and thurs shifted nervously, the last remaining taurid rumbled in challenge. 

The yotan leader stood tall, his eyes narrowing. 

A furious bugling bellow echoed through the night, and death descended upon the camp. Metal flashed and swung, sometimes meeting flesh, but more often whistling helplessly through the air as gnashing fangs and arcing tines found their marks and tore and slashed into limb and muscle and bone. Blood sprayed and pattered onto the hard-packed dirt of the camp like rain. 

The wolves and stags of her forest home had come to their Guardian's call to defend and avenge their sacred home. 

The unwelcome throcs and thurs and taurids died. 

 And she sighed and gasped in alarm and relief, tears streaming like a benediction down her cheeks, washing away the grime painting her skin. 

Especially when her mate stepped out into the centre of the camp, fury and purpose burning in his white-gold gaze as he stared down the yotan leader. A single already healing slash from a lucky throc blade bisected his broad, muscled chest, and the thick fur of his massive neck and thighs was soaked with blood. His handsome stag-like features were twisted in a challenging snarl, his own fanged maw bared.

The deadly tines of his tree-like antlers dripped crimson, glistening and gleaming in the moonlight. 

His gaze flicked to her, and his burning gaze flared hotter with pure, unadulterated rage.

And he charged. 

Two throcs and the smoky-haired thur fell before him, crumpling as heavily-muscled arms shattered their bones, dagger-clawed hands shredded their flesh and spear-tined antlers tore through them and and his deadly hooves trampled their blood and broken bodies into the ground.

The very forest around them seemed to shake as he collided with the yotan.

Walls of muscle slammed together with the force of a thunderclap while each danced away from claw and blade and tine with speed that seemed at utter odds with the size of the two clashing giants. 

But only one would walk away. 

And with a furious bellow and a guttural scream, her mate's claws slashed deep and, with a final, graceful arc of his heavy antlers bones cracked so loudly the sound echoed through the clearing.

The yotan leader fell, gasping and gurgling, his belly torn open and his chest collapsing, into the dirt. 

And her mate loomed over him, his nostrils flaring and his broad chest heaving as he bellowed out his triumph. 

She could only crumple against the frame of the rack, shaking and curling in on herself with relief as a sob caught stickily in the back of her throat.

It was over. 

She was suddenly surrounded by warmth and a familiar, comforting rich, earthy musk. The leather thongs and thick rag-wound ropes binding her wrists were carefully, tenderly loosened with a gentle care that seemed at odds with the size of the clawed hands doing so. 

And then she was sagging against the solid, safe bulk of his chest, his arms cradling her against him as he lifted her from the rack. A sob sighed against his skin as she buried her face and numbly-aching fingers against the deceptively silky fur of his thick neck, breathing deep of his scent, uncaring of the still-warm blood that dripped from his skin and fur alike. A soothing rumble vibrated through her from deep in his chest, and he seemed to curl around her, his handsome head dipping to nuzzle his cheek against hers. He chuffed, his muzzle velvet-soft and almost tickling as he nosed at the hollow of her throat and curve of her jaw. His ears flicked angrily, his massive frame tensing with fury and despair as he cradled her closer, clearly distraught over not having found her sooner. 

Nevertheless, she sighed, burrowing deeper into his embrace.

He had come. And he had wreaked vengeance on her behalf on all those who had dared violate her. She would heal. And they were dead.

She was satisfied with that.

Well, nearly all were dead. 

As her mate began to turn, she heard a soft, choking growl. 

And as her head lifted, she caught the slowly dulling gaze of the yotan leader. Blood trailed from his mouth and nose and drained from the ruined mess of his chest and belly to pool beneath him, staining the dirt a gleaming red-back. 

Yet the white leather of his sash was undamaged and utterly unstained, not even a drop of blood desecrating the silky-supple hide.

Her fingers dug into the thick mane of her mate's neck. He paused and, at her silent gesture, reluctantly set her down, steadying her as she properly centred herself on her own delicately cloven hooves for the first time in near a fortnight. 

Tilting her head in consideration she reached back, threading her fingers in her mate's thick mane and leaning back against his massive frame, not taking her eyes from the yotan bleeding out at her feet. 

"Wash all trace of them from me, my love," she murmured. "I want them out of me." Her mate rumbled, viciously pleased at the idea of mating her in triumph as his vanquished enemy watched and died before them, yet nearly crooning in concern for her, the heat of him against her back and the feel of his chest and thighs behind her warming her in a way not one of the invaders' company had managed. Her tail flicked as she felt his loinclout stir. Not breaking her gaze from the yotan's she nodded, inhaling deeply. . . 

. . . revelling in the scent of the spilled blood of her violators and that of her mate at her back. 

Slowly, deliberately, she knelt at the yotan's side, his pooling blood warm on her knees. 

And sighed as her mate's bulk lowered into a crouch behind her, his massive furred thighs bracketing her own and his broad chest pressed against her back as his strong arms braced on either side of her own. 

She hummed, instinctively spreading her legs as her mate's malehood grew and hardened, slotting between her legs to prod against her flat belly. She reached beneath her, trailing her fingers down between her gently swaying breasts to smooth along the underside of his cock, lingering on the slim, tapered head and caressing the subtly flared ridge that separated it from the thick shaft. 

"Wash them out of me," she murmured huskily, her own eyes gleaming viciously. She reached forward then, instead trailing delicately-clawed fingertips along the white leather that still crossed the dying yotan's ruined abdomen. Tears began to stream, hot and salty down her cheeks. "Then breed me, my love." Her mate rumbled, his long, elegant muzzle nuzzling into the hollow of her shoulder to caress her cheek, his tongue tenderly darting out to catch her tears even as he too reached forward to trail his own blood-stained clawed fingers over the silky-soft leather. 

Not a single smear defiled the moon-hart leather. 

No, it seemed instead to drink it. 

She smiled, and lifted tilted her head, leaning into her mate's caress. The tines of their antlers clacked softly, musically. 

And she moaned low in her throat, her lips parting and her lids feeling heavy as he shifted, the hot, heavy weight of his cock pressing with blissful resistance into her slick, willing sheath. Her thighs trembled, her clawed-fingers scraping sharp furrows into the hard-packed dirt that soon filled with the yotan's blood. She leaned back, panting as her mate rocked above and behind her, his length sliding deeper and deeper with each rolling flex of his hips, filling her to the brim as he rutted with her. Her back bowed, her hips canting, silently begging for more, deeper. Her breast ached from the firm jolts of each thrust, swaying in time with the matted strands of her thick hair and her mate's heavy bollocks against her lover's knot as his cock sheathed almost, almost to the root within her. She whined, her hand smoothing once more down to her belly, pressing against her flesh to feel him sliding hard and deep inside her. She grinned around her panting moans as his large hand covered her much daintier one, spanning her belly and hips, rumbling with pride at the feel of his cock moving beneath her flesh and muscle. 

All the while, she never looked away from the furious, resentful dulling blue gaze of the yotan leader. 

A vindictive impulse over took her. 

Sliding her hand from beneath her mate's, she trailed her fingertips through the yotan's blood, gathering some of the sopping soil between them, and held it up between them, massaging the blood-soaked earth so that thick, fat drops dropped with wet plods to his paling skin. 

"Recompense," she moaned. Her mate snarled triumphantly and, blowing hard through his flared nostrils, his fanged teeth bared, he grunted gutterally and, with a long, drawn out groan, he lurched sharply above her. 

With a soft cry, her hand fell back to the ground and her eyes nearly slammed shut as molten heat surged deep in her belly in blissfully painful gush after gush as her mate flared and spilled within her. Her blood sang, her vision growing hazy and the world around her glowing with vibrant light as her own body rose to meet her mate's in utter rapture. 

Distantly, she felt fluid streaming, thick and warm, from between her shaking thighs as her mate tensed and pulsed within her. 

Washing all trace of them from within her. 

It felt like. . . benediction.

Cleansing. 

Life.

Groaning as the violent pulsing within her finally began to slow, her mate sagged atop her, careful not to settle the entirety of his substantial weight over her slim, trembling frame. Sighing, she leaned her head back against him as he nuzzled his cheek to hers once more and reached back to bury her blood and earth-stained fingers into his thick mane, luxuriating in the feel of his heart beating, strong and steady, against her back, echoing the soothing throb between her legs where his cock was still blissfully sheathed. The silky-soft fur of her inner thighs was slick and wet with seed, but in that moment she couldn't bring herself to care. 

Not when she knew his and only his seed was all that filled her aching sheath to the brim.

His arm curled around her chest, cradling her against his broad muscled chest. 

And she clenched her fluttering sheath around his cock, shuddering with delight at the feel of him twitching so deep within her she could feel him press against the inside of her abdomen.

"Please," she moaned, canting her hips, pressing back against him, feeling the tapered tip of him prod insistently against the door of her womb. Her quim clenched again. Her mate tensed with a warning growl, his hips flexing sharply as his slowly softening cock began to harden once more. She tugged at his mane, her claws scraping lightly against his skin. "Please," she pleaded. 

And her gaze finally fell from what little life was still left in her last violator's eyes to the gleaming moon-hart leather sash across his chest. 

Biting her lip, she leaned back against her mate's chest, wordlessly asking him to remove his weight from her back. As he settled back on his haunches she braced herself on his waiting forearms and slowly stood. More seed gushed from between her shaking legs as she straightened, her quim clenching with despair at the slick drag of his cock sliding reluctantly out of her. It glistened in the moonlight, as it emerged, finally falling free from her body with a soft, wet pop, thick, pearlescent strings of his seed trailing from his body to hers. 

She finally looked away from the yotan, turning her back on him. 

And she circled her arm around her mate's thick mane's neck, pressing her breasts and belly to his chest and abdominals, spreading her legs to straddle his thickly-muscled thighs. 

Thus clinging and braced on her mate's solid, willing frame, she briefly laced her fingers with his before guiding his broad hand to circle his cock along with hers. 

And together they guided the perfectly tapered head of his cock to her entrance. 

"Breed me, my love," she breathed, looking into his darkened lust-gold eyes. 

And together they watched as she sank down on him and he disappeared slowly between her legs, his cock shiny and glistening with their mingled slick and seed. Heat bloomed and surged in her belly, her quim fluttering and clenching with euphoric relief at being filled so completely once more, welcoming him deeper and deeper, eagerly, hungrily guiding him to fill her so full and so tight, she could barely breathe for the feel of him sheathed securely within her. 

Panting and breathless with bliss and need, she writhed atop him, utterly enthralled by the glimpses of his cock's root sliding in and out of her almost painfully stretched entrance as she rocked and ground her hips down against his eagerly thrusting ones. Each ragged breath of hers was punctuated by high, keening moans that blended with his own sharp, growling grunts as they rutted together. She whined as the tapered head of him prodded painfully against the door of her womb, demanding entrance. Her nails dug into his mane, drawing blood where they met skin. Her mate snarled, darkly pleased, his muzzle pressed hard against the corner of her jaw, his fang-like teeth bared in a closed-snarl and pressing against her thundering pulse. 

All she could hear was the sound of his heaving pants and hers, overlaid with the wet sound of their frantic coupling. 

It was then with a challenging bellow that he tipped her back. Crying out as her vision spotted, and her breath was knocked from her chest, she was abruptly bowed beneath him, her legs still splayed painfully wide around his hips, one of his large hands gripping tight around her hips and waist and the other braced next to her head. 

And he bore down, rutting her frantically. His feral growls inflamed the heat his plunging cock stoked hotter and hotter deep in her belly. Her claws dug into his flesh as he hauled her into each rapid thrust, drawing blood to trail in gleaming rivulets down his thickly corded forearms and into his mane and down his broad, heaving chest. 

Dazed and crying out with each rapturous impact of his body within hers, rapturous heat surged and ebbed and surged, her vision going white and her world spinning around the unrelenting demand of his cockhead against her womb. 

Until her womb surrendered eagerly. 

She screamed, her body arching and writhing, her sheath clenching hard as her mate's tapered head breached her womb and the subtly flared edge caught tight.

Her world exploded with pure, sacred ecstasy. 

And liquid fire scorched out in thick gouts to fill her womb as he roared out his triumph into the night. 

The first blush of dawn was painting the horizon when awareness began to seep through the haze of pleasure and contentment that blanketed her. Utterly limp and drained from the bliss that still warmed her body along with the gentle, steady pulse of her mate's seed filling her womb, she didn't want to stir from where he had her safely sheltered beneath the massive bulk of his body and cradled within the strength of his embrace. She whimpered at the pleasure-pain of his cockhead tugging where it was caught tight by the clenching door of her womb, instead nestling herself tighter against his chest, breathing deep of his earthy male musk, deliciously spiced by the scent of their rutting. 

But at the same time, part of her knew it was time to move. The cooled sweat and seed and slick of their rut was growing unpleasant against her skin and still-filthy fur. And worse, she was suddenly very aware of the similarly cooled blood of the yotan leader smeared across her hands, arms and back and matting her thick hair further still from being so ferally rutted into the blood-sodden earth. 

In that moment, she wanted nothing more than for her mate to carry her to the crystal-clear river deep in the forest where she usually wandered so together they could wash the blood and grim, viscera and seed of the invaders' company from their fur and flesh. 

First, though. . . 

She turned her head, tears welling and spilling over once more as grief clenched tight around her heart as she looked over to the stiff, lifeless corpse of her violator. . .

. . .and the skin of the sacred moon-hart the yotan leader wore as a trophy. 

Her mate crooned mournfully, his glowing white-gold eyes dulled with grief that echoed her own. 

Still locked together as they were, it took extra care for him to straighten, but with her clinging carefully to his shoulders, her legs wrapped with equal care around his waist, together they were able to reverently remove the defiled hide from the yotan's corpse. 

And cradling the last of the sacred hart's remains against her heart even as her mate tenderly cradled her against his, together the Guardians melted away into the heart of the forest.

Leaving the intruders' camp abandoned and accursed behind them.

Chapter Text

She was haunted. 

Even moons and seasons later she was haunted by her time in the Invaders' Camp.

She was haunted by the feel of their weight on her body. By their sweat and scent on her skin.

By the phantom sensations of their cocks violating her body over and over. 

By the memory of their seed warm and sticky and leaking out of her in a near unending trickle. 

By the moon-pale hide displayed like a trophy across the yotan leader's chest.   

Her leisurely pace over the winding roots and across the rich, leaf-littered loam and around the ancient trunks of the trees of her forest slowed, and she pressed a palm to the rough bark of the oak she paused beside, shuddering at the memory of the bark of its sister tree digging into her flesh as first throc then thur cock impaled brutally between her spend-smeared thighs. 

Her heart ached with grief and guilt and despair.

Her hand trembled as it smoothed down the pronounced bulge of her heavy belly to cradle the unborn child sleeping within her. 

More than anything else, though, she was haunted by the fear that the child growing inside her hadn't been sired by her mate.

That no matter that he had flooded her sheath with his own spend to wash the seed of her violators' from her body, no matter that none but him - not even the yotan leader who had eagerly and determinedly assaulted her womb's door multiple times a night after learning of her fertility with his painfully proportionate cock nor even the taurids whose cocks near-rivalled the length of her mate's own - had breached the door of her womb to spill even a drop of seed within, there was still a chance that one of the males who had so blasphemously violated her had managed to plant his seed in her body.

That she was even now growing the accursed spawn of one of the interlopers. 

Because there was a chance. 

A chance that not all of the violators' seed had been flushed away by the warmth of her mate's spend. A chance that however briefly, the door of her womb had been, even briefly, breached. 

Her abdomen clenched, echoing the dread twisting tight around her heart even as eager anticipation thrummed in her chest. 

Inhaling a shaking breath, she resumed her careful trek through the sunlight-dappled undergrowth toward the glen where she had prepared her den. 

Pausing only to refresh herself in the briskly flowing stream that hemmed her destination, she carefully shook the excess water from her once more sleekly-furred flanks, her tail flicking and twitching as her skin prickled and cooled in the soft spring breeze. Wringing out the hems of her tunic, she forced herself to focus on the almost unnatural beauty of the iridescent glimmers on the clear water streaming from the finely woven fabric. 

Ignoring the pointed clench and squeeze low in her belly. 

And the phantom burn between her legs insisting that she not forget what she was very possibly preparing to birth. 

I will look down on you as our offspring squeezes out of that welcoming cunt of yours.

She shuddered, standing so abruptly as the memory hissed vindictively in her ear that she nearly toppled back onto the bank of the stream. Her doe-like ears flicked with apprehension. 

And the long familiar weight of grief and guilt and shame pressed in on her still-mourning heart. 

Nothing could get to her here, she reminded herself, breathing deep of the forest around her. . .

. . . breathing deep of the traces of her mate's distinctive earthy musk in the air. 

None, not even more like the intruders who had captured her nearly a full sun's turn ago, would dare cross into the territory and the crèche at its heart her mate had marked and even now fiercely guarded for her delivery for the offspring she carried. 

And if they did, their blood would water the ground, further warning to any who dared threaten her or their child. 

Her mate would suffer no more threats to their home, her or their imminently to be born child. 

Yet still she feared. 

Not that any would carry her off again as the invaders had done.

But the offspring about to emerge from her womb would belong to any but her magnificent mate. 

Her magnificent mate who had spent the last near sun's turn worshipping her with his attention and care, his croons and his body, sheltering her, loving her.

Mating her. 

For first few moons after he had delivered her from her captivity, even as her belly began to swell and round with the child she had left that forsaken camp carrying, her mate had indulged her almost desperate need to erase the memory of the violators from her body, filling her with his cock day and night, flooding her his seed. Even after her womb had rooted and released his cock, few hours passed without her desperately rutting upon him, finding that the feel of the girthy throcs or the long thurs, the flared heads of the taurids and fleshy bulb of the fenid or the overwhelming mass of the yotan leader only diminished when her mate's cock was sheathed securely, safely inside her trembling body, clenched tight between her shaking thighs. 

Stepping into the shaded glen that was to be her birthing crèche, she trembled at the memories. As her labour drew ever nearer and she had instinctively chased her mate from her side with vicious hisses and bared fangs, they had renewed as her fear of the looming birth and the child inside her had intensified.  

Again, she smoothed her delicately-clawed hands down over her heavily swollen belly, breathing carefully through the clenching ache that gripped tight beneath her palms. And she tilted her head back, her eyes sliding shut as the labour pain eased, sighing as the gentle sun caressed her face, letting herself focus on the sweet-scented breeze threaded with the lingering musk of her mate, on the softness of the thick grass and freshly gathered layer of new green leaves under her cloven hooves, on the sound of the trees rustling and the faint chirps and trills of the songbirds high above her. 

No, there was nothing to fear. The fear in her chest loosened ever so slightly. Never had she fallen pregnant unless her womb was properly breached, she assured herself. Even in the early days of their mating so long ago she barely remembered it, when their enthusiasm and inexperience had seen her mate breach but not catch in her womb, she had not birthed his child the next spring. 

It was only when his cock caught securely within her had his seed quickened and his child delivered from her body a sun's turn later. 

A chill ran down her spine, and the sensation that trickled, warm and thick, between her legs was eerily reminiscent of all the seed that had been left to spill from her body over those horrific days affixed to the invaders' rack. 

She whimpered, curling around her belly as the pain suddenly renewed more insistently, nearly causing her knees to buckle beneath her, and the trickle from between her legs became a swift gush. 

A sob caught in her chest and nausea churned and threatened to climb the back of her throat. 

After a moment that felt as an eternity, the clench abated, and with it she sagged, leaning heavily against the nearest of the ancient birches that sheltered the glen alongside its sister oaks, aspens and willows. 

Beneath her palm she felt her offspring shift and squirm, lower in her belly than it had been mere moments before. Softly, she crooned, smoothing her palms comfortingly over her unborn child. 

The fear pulsed softly. 

And for the first time in all her innumerable years of birthing the offspring her mate had bred into her, she almost, almost wished her instincts hadn't compelled her to chase her mate from her side so she could birth their child in peaceful isolation, safeguarding their newborn from his own aggressively protective instincts in the face of her agony.

Breathing deeply, she straightened and paced carefully toward the sheltered nest she had gathered beneath the boughs of the glen's ancient willow. 

Mercifully, it was as she was lowering herself down that the next pain crested, and she bit back a groan, curling around her taut belly. Instinctively her thighs parted, the feeling of her offspring dropping further within her hips prompting her body to act on its own to ease her efforts to birth the child within her. Panting as the pain eased, she further lowered herself to her side, her arms circling around her straining belly and her legs folded close as she curled protectively around the child her world had narrowed to.

Pain after pain clenched and burned, and it was not long before her breath came in ragged pants, her vision blurring with tears. Dimly, she was aware of the little one shifting, sliding lower and lower into her hips with each successively stronger pain the pressure between her legs increasing with each renewed wave. Already exhaustion tugged at her, making her head feel as heavy as her swollen belly. Her lower body burned and throbbed from the effort of encouraging her offspring into place within her, from readying them both for the final stages of the birth. 

Another pain surged, and with a whimpering groan, she curled tighter around her straining belly, her upper leg lifting to brace behind the hollow of her lower bent knee in a futile effort to relieve the white-hot pressure between them as the sudden urge to push tugged at her instincts. 

She sagged as the pain and the urge dissipated, instead replaced by the urge to move, to shift to. . . to do something. 

An urge she distantly recalled from years and springs past heralded that the end was in sight. 

Groaning, she prepared to lever her body upright, determined to pace a little as she had during her previous labours in the short respite that had always come shortly before the time had finally come for her to push her mate's offspring out into the world. 

The movement had never failed to help her womb finish settling their offspring properly within the cradle of her hips.

Carefully propping herself up on her elbow, she carefully maneuvered herself onto her hands and knees and from there, with the help of the ancient willow, managed to get her shaking legs beneath her. She whimpered, her head dropping and her hand hugging beneath her heavy belly at the distressing feeling of needing to keep her thighs parted. 

But as she took her first step, she gasped, sagging against the solid strength of the willow at the distinctive touch of something slick and hot against her inner thigh. 

She abruptly felt numb, save for the sudden overwhelming urge to lower herself back down to the bed of her nest. 

Panting heavily, it felt like an eternity before she was collapsing back onto her side with a huff and a surge of pressure between her legs, exhausted by the effort. 

It was then that she felt it again: something pressing against her inner thigh. Groaning, she once more propped herself up on her elbow, curling around her belly, one hand hooking around the back of her upper knee - 

- and nearly sobbed. 

There, emerging from inside her and just barely visible around the large, heavy swell of her belly, were two tiny, exquisite pink hooves resting against the fluid-dampened fur of her inner thigh, still enclosed within the pearly-pale membrane of their birthsac.

And her head fell forward to nearly rest on her braced forearm and a cry tore from her throat as another birthing pain just as swiftly swept through her. 

The pressure between her splayed legs intensified and white-hot fire seared up into her belly. 

Yet, despite the agony overwhelming her exhausted, aching body, relief and elation bloomed and surged as swift and powerful as a warm summer sunrise, the last of her terror dissipating like the last wisps of an early morning mist. 

And she surrendered.

With a groan from between her grit teeth she hitched both her thigh higher around her heavy belly and bore down, pushing hard as another birthing pain surged and crested, dimly feeling the pressure between her legs flare as the tiny form lodged within her shifted and slid as more and more of their offspring emerged; tiny, delicate hocks then slim, pale legs followed slowly after the equally delicate little hooves to protrude out from between her fluid-slicked thighs. 

She sagged with a heaving gasp as the birthing pain abruptly eased, loosing her gip on her upper thigh. She whimpered at the discomfort between them as the slender legs pressed against her inner thighs, pressure blooming at their juncture where the rest of the little one had yet to emerge. Panting as she fought to regain her breath, she dragged herself back closer to massive roots sheltering her nest beneath the boughs of the ancient willow, using them to support her as she carefully reached between her trembling legs. 

Another sob threatened and broke free as tears streamed hot and liberally down her cheeks as her fingers gingerly probed the abused flesh bulging around her partially born young - her mate's young, their young - lingering on the tiny nose just barely poking out from inside her, hidden still by the large swell of her belly. 

It was her mate's seed that had taken root in her womb. 

A laughing sob bubbled from the back of her throat as she sagged back against the willow root that had been her midwife through every birth all the way back to her first all too many sun's turns before.

Bracing her shoulder against the massive root and struggling to haul the lower of her thighs up beneath her straining belly, she instinctively curled around her belly again as the birthing pain built once more, her elation blending into resolve. Pressure burned between her legs as she took her grip on behind her knees once more bore down. Slowly, agonizingly slowly she felt the offspring within her slide further and further out of her resisting body and into the world with each frustrating heave. 

With a cry, she felt the head pass with a slick popping sensation. 

Pushing with everything she had, another agonizing wave crested, followed by a second and, with a monumental heave and release of pressure so profound her vision spotted she felt the shoulders surge out in a hot gush.

A sob tore from her throat as the pains relented, and she stared through tear-blurred eyes at the tiny moon-pale fawn already rousing, squirming between her legs as the membrane around it tore.

And the young she created with her mate drew its first, shaking breath. Her hand shaking, she reached around her belly to pull the torn membrane away from her nearly-born young's exquisite little nose, sighing around a laugh of pure, euphoric joy as the tiny fawn bleated, pressing clumsily against her palm, already seeking comfort from the ordeal of being forced out of her body.

The dark gaping wound of grief that had torn opened within her heart the moment she had seen the moon-pale hide draped across that accursed leader's chest began to finally scar. 

It would never fully heal, no, no more than she would ever truly forget the accursed camp.

But it would no longer consume her. 

She groaned, resisting the urge to squeeze her eyes shut as the pressure and the clench of her womb resumed with a vengeance, insisting that she finish birthing the squirming little one. Gritting her teeth, she bore down, refusing to relent until. . . until. . . there.

With a cry and a final heave, the fawn seemed to lurch away from her as she forced its little hindquarters out of her. Dimly, she could still feel the slim back legs lingering within the hollow through her hips, but she was past caring - the instant she stood on shaking legs to reposition herself so she retrieve the soft mosses she'd gathered to clean the fluid from her newborn's silky-damp coat, they slid out with ease, pulling the birth membrane with them. Even the painful tug as the young's cord snapped or as her belly cramped to weakly pass the afterbirth was of little consequence - all was as it should be. 

She had her mate's young gathered against her chest, his damp fur drying as she warmed his shivering little body with her own flesh, his beautiful little nose and tiny pink tongue already rooting at her milk-swollen teat. 

Only to tense, gasping as her still-swollen belly clenched vindictively once more. 

And fear gripped tight around her heart once more. 

Something solid slid into the cradle of her hips. 

No sooner had the realization settled heavily on her chest than her belly was cramping and clenching, her upper leg instinctively drawing up toward her ribs to make way for the second young already being pushed through the hollow of her hips. Their tiny newborn bleated in alarm as he sensed his mother's struggle, clumsily flopping next to her as he paused in his attempts to prop his spindly legs underneath himself. 

Crooning at her already-born young, she cradled his little head in her palm, nuzzling her cheek to his even as her body tensed and strained as the pains swiftly grew back to agonizing strength. 

And bracing herself on her elbow, she carefully levered herself up onto her hands and knees. She gasped as the shift in her weight, the inadvertent press of her lower thigh up into her belly further shifted the second little one still inside her. And as she leaned back on her haunches she gasped at the sensation of something swung heavily from slim form protruding out of her. Panting, hope began to bloom in her chest at the dimly familiar sensation. 

Sure enough, as she tentatively reached beneath her belly to probe between her legs, another pair of tiny, delicate hooves followed by slim little hocks were already sliding out between her spread thighs, the fluid still within the intact membrane encasing them sloshing and swaying as she moved. 

Just as swiftly as it grew, the renewed fear dissipated. 

And the last phantoms of the camp faded with it. 

Her head dropped forward, hanging exhaustedly as she panted. Her arms and legs trembled with exertion, her entire body - her entire soul - aching from her ordeal. Yet, as her belly clenched and the birthing pain crested all too soon, she dug her clawed fingers into the tender leaves of her nest and she pushed. 

The flesh between her legs burned and throbbed as her second fawn's head was forced free from between her thighs with a grunting heave, finding even the slight weight of the tiny newborn hanging stiffly out of her overwhelming.

Whimpering, she felt her limbs buckle.

Nearly choking on a sob at the overwhelming discomfort weighing on her very bones, She carefully levered herself back down to her side, a pained moan tearing from low in her chest as the press of the thigh curled beneath her belly inadvertently pushed the partially-born young more firmly into her resisting hips. Exhausted, she sluggishly propped her upper leg wide, hooking her cloven hoof in front of her knee; she wasn't sure she had the strength to hold it up anymore, not if she wanted to have strength enough left the push the second fawn lodged frustratingly just within the juncture of her thighs the rest of the way out of her. 

Groaning, she bore down with a heave as the pains built again. She didn't have the strength for sustained pushing any more. So she heaved, and panted and heaved as wave after wave of pains crested. And with each heave, she was acutely aware of her second young being squeezed a little further out of her. Each ragged breath burned up her throat, lower body aching. Between her slick thighs, her flesh throbbed around her nearly-born young.

Her eyes felt so heavy. . . 

But then she felt it. . . 

Rousing, she blinked unseeing as she felt it. . . she felt her young moving.

She felt the slender little legs flexing, the little body trapped inside her struggling to move. 

When the next pain surged, she bore down with a heaving cry. 

The pressure between her legs flared, feeling like a white-hot brand and not a tiny fawn was being birthed from between her quaking legs. 

Until with a hot, heavy gushing sensation that overwhelmed all else, she felt the little one slide out of her with deceptive ease. Fuelled by desperation and an invigorating swell of euphoria, she heaved again even as the birthing pain was easing. 

And with it, a second, no less beautiful sensation of the rest of their fawn's tiny body being forced out into the world in a slippery surge. 

It was over.

Struggling to catch her breath, despite feeling deliriously exhausted, she nevertheless determinedly levered herself upright, her arms shaking from the strain. Her propped upper leg collapsed, her hoof loosing its traction on the thick leaf-nest. Dimly, she felt her abused flesh protest, far more unsettled by the odd feeling of the newly-born fawn's hind legs still nestled inside her up to the natural bend of their heel. 

But much as it had with its brother - and each of the young she had ever birthed - the throbs and aches and discomfort, while it didn't fade, simply no longer mattered. 

Not when she was looking down on the second moon-pale fawn she had just pushed out from between her shaking fluid-slicked thighs. 

She didn't even realize she was sobbing as she tenderly, gently freed the tiny squirming newborn from the membrane clinging to its soaked, shivering little body. With a frightened little bleat the little one shook its exquisite head, its gossamer thin ears releasing from where they'd been slicked back against its thin neck. 

And then she was laughing as its brother indignantly head-butted her breast in search of milk for his empty belly, promptly loosing what balance it had on his precariously splayed legs and collapsed in a startled heap. 

Groaning, she levered herself up onto her knees, wincing as the second fawn's hind legs slid out of her, snapping the cord as the tiny second hart jerked, bewildered at finally being free of his mother's body. 

Then she was gathering the two tiny moon-fawns to her breast, cradling them close as she curled around them on her side. 

And as she finally succumbed to her exhaustion, she sighed at scent of her mate surrounding her and their newborn young, relaxing back against his solid warmth as he curled his massive frame around them all. 

While above them, the leaves whispered and rejoiced at the birth of two more sacred white harts beneath the silvery light of the rising moon.