**Two Rivers**
by Renee Carter Hall
Elana, lioness of the Two-River clan, ran the soft brush over her fur in long strokes, over and over, to be sure all was in place--and to calm herself, though she would not have admitted it to anyone.
It was an elegant brush she was using: the handle was rare *siwa* wood, oiled smooth and dark, carved in a sinuous shape. Brushes were always intimate gifts, but this one's shape hinted at sensuality, and its quality showed the giver's wealth--in this case, the man she was about to join for life.
She couldn't believe he'd wanted her. Everyone praised her older sister for her talents; everyone admired her younger sister for her grace and innocent beauty. Elana was talented at very little, graceful enough for her kind, but too finely muscled to be considered a great beauty by most. No one spoke of her except as the sister of one or the other.
And yet, when Lord Abanu had come with his men, surveying the Two-River clan, his gaze had stopped on her.
She shivered deliciously, remembering. His eyes were the color of sun on the grasslands, luminous and warm. While he had not been impolite to her sisters, he had spoken mostly to her, complimenting her on her eyes, her speech, saying that, truly, her mother must have been a rare beauty with a soul of fire, to birth such a child. And Elana cast her gaze down, embarrassed but secretly pleased, and for her part, spent the time admiring his strength, the quiet power in his voice, and the thick luxury of his honey-colored mane. And so it had been all through the evening, as she and her father and sisters sat on the grass-strewn floor of their home and shared the melon-wine her father had made two years before.
At last the men got up to leave. Her father bowed, and the lord laid a hand on her father's shoulder. "Walk with me, sir," Abanu said then. "I would speak of important things... things I hope will please a father's heart."
It was her younger sister Halima who shook her awake the next morning with the news that Abanu wanted Elana to be his Fourth. Even the cold river water she washed in couldn't convince her that she wasn't still dreaming.
It was nothing to be high about, of course. She knew her father had hoped she might be some man's Third or even Second. Still, to be the Fourth of such a lord was as good as the Second of any common landworker or hunter.
She saw the sun rising over the plain, and as she slipped the brush into her pack, a flutter of nervousness started in her stomach. What would the other wives think of her? She had heard so many stories in the weaving-circles: Firsts who used the others like servants, making them do all sorts of unpleasant chores, or Thirds who were openly resentful of being usurped by a new young favorite.
She wished, for another of countless times, that the rain-fever had not taken her mother. Perhaps she could have given some advice, some comfort; she had always known the right thing to say.
Still, no matter how Abanu's other women were, no matter what else she had to live with, she would have him. That, she decided, would be enough.
She left their hut and scanned the horizon. No sign of them yet, but the sun was just now up...
"Men lie abed later than we do, sister." The laughing voice belonged to Halima, her younger sister. "I wanted to give you this, before you left." She held out a woven bundle.
It was a sleeping-mat, tightly woven from supple grasses, springy and thick, and it smelled of sweet-grasses and sunlight. Elana marveled at the work. It must have taken weeks to weave, perhaps even a whole season.
"But..." Elana shook her head. "You meant it for yourself--"
"I meant it for the first of us to wed," Halima said. "Feel how thick it is--it will bear up well, even under the weight of two," she added, her eyes flashing mischievously.
Elana looked down, ears back in a blush. It was well known--to all but their father--that Halima had many lovers among the Two-River clan, and she had never been ashamed to speak of them.
"Thank you," Elana said, and then she saw a glimmer of silhouettes on the horizon, and she was surprised at how fast her heart could beat.
\* \* \*
The ceremony was short--a pact of business between her father and Abanu. Then came the quick pain as Abanu fastened the gold ring into her right ear, and then the farewells to her father and sisters--and then they were riding out of the Two-River lands.
They rode strange creatures that Abanu called *saurocs*: dull-eyed reptiles with broad backs and a slow, even gait. All were the same gray-green color, with blunt claws, thick tails, and thin pinkish-gray tongues that tasted the air every few moments.
She rode with Abanu, very aware of his chest against her back, his arms against her sides as he held the leather reins that harnessed the sauroc. She was aware, also, of the sauroc's muscles moving beneath her as she straddled it, and as the sleepy heat of the day began, she found the warmth mirrored in her.
Abanu looped the reins around his wrists, freeing his hands, then leaned closer so that his breath tickled her cheek. "Your father said you have never known men," he said, in a whisper even though the guards were all too far away to hear. "Was this truth?"
"My..." Her breath caught as his hands moved slowly up her sides, under the woven cape that covered her above the waist. "My father does not lie." She closed her eyes as his hands skimmed over her breasts, and she found that she no longer minded the heat.
"Ahhh." He cupped her breasts and ran his fingertips over her nipples until they stood, stiff and almost sore, from her pale fur. The sauroc's weight shifted beneath them, and she felt him pressing stiffly just above her tail, with her skirt and his leather loincloth between them. She thought, at that moment, that she would have them stop right where they were, here among these strange lands, and show her everything she suddenly wanted so desperately to know--even with all his men circled around and watching. This strange heat that pulsed between her legs, that made her press into the sauroc's back, that made the riding-mat wet beneath her--he was the cause of it, he could give her what she wanted, what she'd never known she needed...
He took up the reins again. "Soon," he said. "We'll make camp at dusk... and my men sleep sound when I bring my wives home."
"I..." Was this voice hers? "I do not care if they sleep or wake."
His laugh was a husky rumble. "I can see I chose well."
It felt like days before they made camp. Elana unrolled the sleeping-mat and brushed her fur a bit, lingering over her breasts without realizing it. Abanu led their sauroc away to be tended, and the men settled around them for the evening, kindling fires and warming water to soak their dry traveling-grain.
Abanu returned carrying a melon, and they shared pieces of it, the juice wetting her dry mouth with sweetness and dripping onto her chin and ruff. He licked her chin, then her mouth. Night descended slowly, and soon the only sounds around them were the low, deep breathing of the saurocs, the occasional snore of a sleeping guard, and the high, soothing rush of the wind through the grass.
He took off her cape first, baring her breasts to his touches, his fingertips, his tongue.
"Elana," he murmured, his breath tickling, making her shiver. "My Elana... Fourth in my life, first in my heart..."
She pressed against him, and his hand caressed her thigh, sliding under her skirt. One claw slit the fibers, and she was deliciously nude, each breeze teasing her fur.
She was trembling now, and he held her, his tongue lightly touching her breasts, her throat, her mouth. "Don't be afraid," he breathed.
His hand was cupped between her legs now, brushing over the fine, silky fur, rubbing until his fingers came away wet. She opened her legs, suddenly eager, hungry, surprised at the deep throbbing he'd woken in her.
"Fourths are the most fortunate ones," he whispered, smiling. "I have learned well, how to please..."
She could hear her own breathing loud in her ears, above the pounding pulse of her heart. He dipped his fingers inside her, spreading her warmth over the hard bud of her clitoris, and she heard herself moan, and the sound aroused her even more. She wanted, then, to hear him make the same sound, to be the cause of it, the cause of his pleasure.
She reached for the buckles of his loincloth, and the leather fell away, revealing him at last. His erection was full, nearly straight along the toned muscles of his abdomen. She stroked its length, marveling at the softness of the skin, at how he trembled now under her touch, even as she did under his.
She was on her back now, her head pillowed on the thickest grasses of the mat. He knelt over her and buried his muzzle in her chest, his tongue stroking her nipples again and again.
"It may hurt," he said softly, "but I will do my best to make you forget."
Then his weight was on her, and she wrapped her legs around him. She felt the tip press against her--felt the quick thrust--winced as she felt herself tear--then exhaled and relaxed, feeling him inside, his length filling her.
Words were lost now. She joined his rhythm, in and out, moving with him. The pace was slow at first, savoring, and she felt as if they had been this way for hours, perhaps even days. Then, gradually, his thrusting became faster, his breathing quick and hard, accented by deep moans. She felt the change in him, knew what was happening without knowing the words to name it.
"Elana," he breathed, "oh, my love..."
His breath caught in a gasp, and she felt a sudden rush of warmth filling her, trickling down from where they joined.
His gasp became a sigh, and he withdrew, slipping out in a rush of thick wetness, cupping his hand between her legs, rubbing his seed over her clitoris, into her fur.
Her heartbeat became a steady roar in her ears as he fondled her. At once she felt as if she were no longer in her body--and yet she had never felt so aware of it. She understood now why her sister sought this. Nothing, nothing had ever felt so good, so much like sunrise and grass-fire and thunder all at once, pleasure rising in her, building, out of her control--
Climax exploded in her. Her roar was loud enough to wake the camp, but she was far beyond caring. The release was too powerful to voice in any other way.
She fell back, panting, against the grass mat, and Abanu held her, and smiled, and licked her muzzle. Nearby, a sauroc grunted and stamped, and now she could hear the night around them again.
"I'm surprised"--how loud his voice sounded, even at a whisper--"that didn't bring the guards running. You have a powerful voice."
She wanted to lie against him this way forever. "You have a powerful touch, my lord, to bring it forth."
"The first of many nights," she heard him murmur, and then her eyes closed into deep, sated sleep.
\* \* \*
She woke just before dawn and was mending her skirt when Abanu rose and dressed. They broke camp quickly, eager to reach home again--they'd been away for many days, Abanu told her.
"A real bed tonight," he said, his eyes sparkling, "and a good meal before, to give us strength!"
Elana smiled weakly. As much as she'd enjoyed the night before, her body still felt tender, and she'd washed blood from her fur that morning. What muscles weren't sore from their lovemaking were aching from the long ride the day before.
The heat baked the plains around them, and she spent most of the day in a half-sleep, interrupted only by the biting black flies that swarmed around them. The sun was going down by the time she got her first look at her new home.
It was a series of grand tents, lashed tight with ropes, held more firmly here and there by wood and the occasional boulder. The cloth of the tents was like none she'd ever seen--too fine to be any fiber she knew, and too brightly colored. The tents glowed red and gold and sienna against the matching sky, and farther in the distance, a river snaked lazily across the plain, its water turned to fire in the setting sun. As they came closer, she marveled at how large each tent was. Even the smallest was twice the size of the hut she'd shared with her father and sisters.
Abanu helped her down from the sauroc's back. "I think you'd do well to rest tonight," he said, "and tomorrow you will see my chamber." He nuzzled her, then called to someone standing nearby. "Jabari."
"Yes, my lord?"
Elana stared, surprised. The name was male, and so he was--she noted his bare chest--but he had no mane, and his voice was strangely high compared to Abanu's.
"Take my Fourth to the women's chambers and see that she's comfortable," Abanu instructed him. "I will send for her tomorrow night."
Jabari bowed. "Yes, my lord. My lady--this way."
She was too tired to ask questions. Jabari led her into a dim tent, to a bed softer than any she'd ever known, and within moments she was asleep.
\* \* \*
"Well, she's young enough, that's for sure."
"At least this time he chose one with some meat on her."
"Kind of plain, though."
"As if you were anything to speak of?"
"Hush, both of you! Let her sleep."
"Where'd she come from, Neyla?"
"None of the lordships, I bet!"
Elana opened her eyes to find three lionesses gathered around her. She sat up, then realized she was nude, and that her skirt and cape were not where she'd left them the night before.
One of them--the oldest, with soft golden eyes--chuckled, but not unkindly. "Don't bother yourself; we've already seen everything. Welcome to the house of Abanu. I am Neyla, his lordship's First. This is Suli, his Second, and his Third, Tira."
She looked the three over, trying not to stare--all of them wore cloths at their waists but nothing above. The youngest, Tira, had a dancer's lithe and slender frame, with small, firm breasts, and her eyes were sky-blue and fiercely bright. By contrast, Suli was all curves, with full, heavy breasts and wide hips, though Elana decided that she did not have quite enough flesh to be called plump. The Second's eyes were deep green and looked as if she were always savoring something.
And Neyla... The best way to describe her eluded Elana for a few seconds, but it was enough to decide that, though she likely didn't order the other two around like slaves, she was without question the one in charge. Her authority was quiet and subtle, but it showed in every line of her body, every toned muscle, every gleam in her golden eyes.
"And your name?" Neyla prompted gently.
"Elana." She swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry. "Of the Two-River clan."
"Told you," Tira said to Suli. "A clan girl."
"And what's wrong with that?" Neyla asked mildly. "He did choose his First from the Crater Plains clan." She turned back to Elana. "Now, we have much to do, but breakfast comes first. Come."
Neyla gave her a short crimson robe to wear--"not that it's necessary among ourselves, and certainly Jabari doesn't care"--and led her into a larger adjacent tent, where a table had been prepared.
Elana's eyes widened at the food. At home, breakfast was grain porridge, perhaps with a slice or two of melon. Here, ostrich eggs waited in gilded cups next to joints of rare meat, and the porridge was smoothly-ground and thick with cream. She couldn't identify some of the scents that reached her from the table, but they smelled delicious nonetheless.
First, though, Neyla handed her a small gourd. "I assume he followed his custom and bedded you last night?"
Elana blushed until her ears were flat, but she nodded.
"Let me guess," said Tira. "'Fourth in my life, first in my heart'?"
"How did you--"
"We've all heard it," Suli said, smiling.
Neyla nodded at the gourd. "Drink. They tell me it doesn't taste very good, but it's necessary."
Elana drank. It was neither hot nor cool, and the flavor was sharp and bitter. There were only a few swallows' worth in the gourd, but she still struggled to get it down.
"You'll get used to it," Suli said sympathetically.
"What--is it?" Elana coughed.
"A brew of herbs, taken every morning, that keeps your cycles away," Neyla explained.
"Otherwise, we'd be overrun with heirs," Suli added, taking a seat at the table.
"We all share his bed," Tira put in, "but only his First can bear his cubs."
Elana knew that already, though she'd never thought of how it was done. Neyla touched one of the chairs, indicating that Elana should sit there. The chairs were low and backless, and she balanced herself carefully, not wanting to embarrass herself on the first morning.
"It happens sometimes, though," Suli said, "even with the herbs. That's what I heard from the Dry Plains lordship--his Third had twin cubs just after the rains."
Elana watched the others, then picked up the tiny hammer to crack her egg. "What happens to the cubs?"
"They stay with the women until they're of age," Suli said, "and then they make their way among the warriors, or sometimes with a clan if they can learn a trade. Some serve other lords, or even their own. But they have no claim to the lordship as a First's cub would."
"I heard Jabari was the son of a Second," said Tira, licking the inside of a piece of eggshell.
"Not a well-favored Second, unfortunately," Suli added.
"Jabari..." Elana wasn't exactly sure what to ask, or how to ask it. "His mane..."
"He is one of the *hajami*," Neyla said quietly. "They are castrated, to serve the lords' women without temptation, and they are bought and sold in the great marketplace of the Crater, like cloth or grass mats or melons. But he is a good man, whatever he lacks, and if it were my power, I would give him his freedom."
"To do what?" Tira asked. "He's not fit for any other life."
"At least any life he had would be his own," Neyla countered.
"A First shouldn't stir trouble," said Tira.
Neyla's eyes sparkled. "Thirds alone have that privilege?"
Tira smiled back, then returned to her breakfast. Elana sensed then that this was an old argument between them, old enough for the resentment and hostility to fade out of it like grass bleached dry in the sun.
That afternoon, back at the bedchamber, Neyla turned to Elana. "Abanu will send for you this evening," the First said, pacing a slow, appraising circle around her, "and we have much to do." She glanced at Suli. "Call Jabari and have him prepare the bath."
The bath, Elana found out, was a carved wooden tub, the sides of which depicted couples in poses that made her blush once again--even as she enjoyed looking at them.
"Oh, they're all possible," Tira said with a wink, "if you're flexible enough."
Jabari filled the bath with heated water, and Neyla added several drops of a musky, fragrant oil. While Elana soaked, feeling the water saturating her fur, then reaching her skin, Neyla brought her another gourd. This one was larger and filled with something warm.
"Drink deeply, sister," she said, and Elana drank.
It was spicy and sweet, nothing at all like the earlier brew, and its warmth traveled through her, making her feel both sleepy and sensitive at the same time. "That's better than this morning," she said.
Neyla smiled. "It's called racha," she explained. "Brewed from roots and seeds and a few choice herbs, sweetened with wild honey."
"What do these herbs do?"
Suli answered. "Stoke fires."
Suli and Tira washed her, and as strange as it was, she was content to sit back while the others scrubbed her back, her shoulders, her breasts, making slow, lazy circles with gentle brushes. She stood when they were done, and Jabari poured water over her to rinse. The cascade of it, the warm caress rushing over her, made her shiver with delight.
While her fur dried, Suli trimmed her claws, then painted them with gold. Neyla trimmed the silky fur of her vulva, and in the half-aroused dream the racha had induced, Elana spread her legs wider.
Neyla poured a bit of oil into her palm. "Already wet--how eager... This will keep you sweet until sunset." She smoothed the oil over Elana's labia and clitoris in one light, lingering touch, and Elana gasped, then sighed.
They brushed her fur once it was dry, dipping their soft-bristled brushes into scented oils, spreading them into her fur until the very air she breathed was spice and musk and heavy sweetness. How she longed for sunset! Every stroke of every brush was arousing her more--it seemed the racha was growing stronger in her instead of wearing off.
Neyla dressed her then, in a silken cloth that rippled like cool water and shone golden as afternoon sunlight. It tied once at her breasts and once just below her waist, and she wore nothing underneath.
"There," Neyla said, nodding approvingly.
Just before sunset, Jabari returned to their tent. "Lord Abanu calls for his Fourth," he said with a bow, "to share his chamber until morning."
Elana followed him out into the warm evening air, to the largest tent that stood slightly apart from the rest. Jabari held the tent's flap aside for her, and its folds rippled closed behind her. Inside, the tent was dim with smoke from sweet grasses smoldering in a hollow stone, and beside that, one oil-lamp burned, giving just enough light that she could see him clearly.
Abanu lounged on the largest and deepest of several cushions. Nothing covered him, and she wondered if he had been given the same racha to drink, for he was already erect, the skin stretched so that it shone in the lamplight.
She sat down by him, and he pulled her gently to him. "How beautiful," he murmured, nuzzling her, burying his nose in her ruff, breathing deeply, sighing, undoing the ties at her breasts, stroking his fingers over their firm curves.
She undid the ties at her waist, then let the cloth fall to the ground and laid down against him, licking his muzzle, his tongue touching hers, his hard throbbing matching the growing ache in her.
He dipped his fingers into a shallow dish of oil on a nearby table, then spread a bit of it at her mouth, and when she tasted it, it was tangy and sweet. He laid back then and drizzled several thick drops along his length, from the thick base to the smooth tip. The oil, she found, tasted just as sweet there, and even when it was gone she kept licking, slowly, base to tip, again and again, to the rhythm of his moans. At last he pushed her gently away and onto her back, parting her legs, pressing his muzzle between them.
He licked her slowly at first, each throb of her clitoris shuddering through her whole body. Then he pressed in deeper, lapping, until the warm, heavy-sweet feeling of climax began to build in her--and he stopped then, as if he sensed it perfectly, and raised up, and was on top of her--on top, and yes, at last, at last inside.
She held him, pressed against him as if they could somehow be closer, more joined than they already were, and her pressing and his weight became a rhythm, both of them in time, both bodies moving together, moving toward the end of hours of longing.
Her whimpering moans became deeper, fuller, and he echoed her. She sensed somehow that he was holding back, and as the first spasms shuddered through her, his voice was a ragged whisper.
"Oh, my lady... come, please come, I want to hear you..."
She didn't want it to be over, but her body gave her no choice. Climax gripped her hard, forced another roar from her lungs, loud enough to leave her throat raw, and then she heard him add his voice to hers.
They slept a little, woke aroused, made love again, and passed the night this way, until she was not sure whether she was awake or dreaming, until their fur was matted and stiff, until they both fell into exhausted sleep, just as dawn began to lighten the sky.
\* \* \*
He was gone when she woke, and Jabari came to escort her back to the wives' tent. She stumbled into bed and slept until midday.
A breeze against her fur woke her. Someone was fanning her slowly--Abanu?
No, Jabari, she saw, sitting up. Her head ached a little, but it was already fading. The others' beds were empty.
Jabari set a clay dish of scented water and a cloth and brush on a low table near her bed. Then he bowed slightly and left before she could gather her thoughts enough to thank him.
Neyla came over as she washed his scent from her fur. "I haven't heard such sounds from his tent since Tira's first night," she teased. "I'm glad to hear my lord can still please a young wife."
Elana felt her ears go back, and Neyla laughed, but gently.
"Come now, sister-wife, we'll have to burn that blush out of you. His bed is a pleasure just like any other--like food, or a fine dress, or music. Would you have us not talk about those? If I were to ask you what you liked best at breakfast yesterday, what would you say?"
"The eggs," Elana said at once. "We never had them at home."
"And"--a sly sparkle in her golden eyes--"if I were to ask what you liked best last night?"
"Everything," Elana breathed, caught up in the memory of it, the heat and musk and sweetness.
Neyla smiled. "I'm glad he took one untouched this time. Oh, he *thought *he did last time," she said, noting Elana's surprise, "but Tira knew quite a bit of those pleasures before he laid her down by his campfire. But you are very much as I was when he took me to be his First. Everything was new, and I delighted in all of it."
Elana smoothed her fur with the brush, thinking how strange it was to be nude before Neyla and yet feel comfortable. She had done so with her sisters, of course, but she had not expected to feel so at ease here. Then again, her sisters had not gone about at all times as the wives did here. This morning, Neyla wore only a shimmering scarlet cloth tied about her waist, baring breasts much like Elana's own--neither as heavy and round as Suli's nor as small and firm as Tira's. Elana chose a green cloth edged in gold from the trunk by her bed, and tied it the same way.
Neyla nodded her approval. "Come--Jabari's set out a few things for you, to keep you until the evening meal."
\* \* \*
The day passed in lazy heat. Suli both entertained and irritated them by turns, picking out tunes on an odd string-and-shell instrument Abanu had brought for her from the coast.
Elana longed for nightfall. Her hunger for him surprised her, even shocked her, but she couldn't deny it was there. At last, after the evening meal was cleared away, Jabari returned to their tent.
"Lord Abanu calls for his Third," he said, "to share his chamber until morning."
His Third? Elana stood for a moment, unsure she'd heard correctly. Tira paused only a moment to brush her fur with sweet-oil, then left.
"Don't worry," Neyla said softly in her ear. "It's always this way, to keep peace, so that the last wife doesn't feel she's being forgotten. I heard him last night. He'll call for you again soon enough."
That night, Elana lay awake, unable to think of anything but the pleasures Tira was certainly enjoying. She remembered the rough, wet heat of his tongue on her clitoris, the softness of his taut skin, the sounds he'd made when she tasted him...
Her hand moved to cup between her legs. Her clitoris was stiff and sensitive from the memory, and it felt good, so good, to touch it, just a little, here, then there, to feel how wet and warm she was. She felt herself throb, pushing hard against her fingers, and that sensation aroused her even more. She'd never touched herself like this before, never wanted to, but now she needed to; her whole body ached with the need.
She heard a soft moan in the darkness.
She froze, thinking she'd cried out, but a moment later it came again, and then she could hear the heavy, shuddering breaths of two enjoying each other.
But Abanu was with Tira, and he wasn't even allowed to be in the women's chambers...
"Oh... oh, yes..."
It was barely a whisper, but now Elana recognized Neyla's voice. Silently she rolled over and stole a glance at Neyla's bed.
Elana swallowed a gasp. Suli had her muzzle pressed deep between Neyla's thighs, while she pleasured herself with her fingers. From the sound of their breathing, Elana figured they had been doing this for some time this night.
Neyla moaned again and spread her legs wider. Elana, heart pounding, felt her clitoris throb in response. She watched Suli's fingers move faster and faster, and matched her own rhythm in time.
Neyla and Suli came almost at the same time, in a rough explosion of breath, obviously trying to keep quiet. A few moments later, Elana buried her muzzle in her pillow to muffle her own hard, deep gasp.
As the glow of climax faded, she heard Suli leave Neyla's bed and return to her own. Elana tried to decide what she was feeling--surprise or curiosity, alarm or interest--but sleep washed over her before she could begin to find any description.
\* \* \*
The next morning, they went to the river to bathe, a pleasant change from the usual half-filled basins. Jabari carried an assortment of brushes, towels, and scents; other guards brought long swaths of fabric on thick poles, cloth that was as wide as the men were tall. Elana was puzzled by this, until they reached the spot where the river flowed wide and shallow, and the guards turned their backs to the wives and unfurled the cloths to form a kind of fence around the four lionesses, screening them from view.
Elana followed the others, shedding her robe at the bank and wading in. The water was a bit chilly, but warmer than the river near her home, and it was wonderful to feel the slow current rippling gently around her.
They washed lazily, spending long moments soaking in the water or scrubbing each other's fur in the strengthening sunlight. The guards stood, seemingly without tiring--the fabric never wavered--their backs always to the wives.
Except, Elana noted, one black-maned young guard who kept stealing glances over his shoulder... and then she followed his gaze and realized he was watching Tira, who was making quite a show of her bath, soaping her breasts slowly, moving her hands down her flat belly, lathering the fur of her vulva, bending down to rinse... then flashing a teasing smile at the guard.
When Neyla came to scrub her back, Elana wasn't sure if she should say anything. But Neyla glanced Tira's way, and judging by the First's expression, she had already noticed what was happening.
Neyla finished with the soap-brush, then dipped a wooden bowl into the river and poured it over Elana's back to rinse. Then she looked back at Tira.
By now, Abanu's Third had approached the guard--he had the good fortune of being stationed near the towels--and was exchanging whispers with him, along with seductive smiles, as she dried her fur.
Neyla watched them a moment, then dipped the bowl again, filling it, and waded slowly toward them.
Elana grinned. She had sisters; she knew what was coming.
Neyla came quietly behind Tira, held the bowl up--tipped it--and Tira's screech echoed across the river as she and her towel were drenched.
Tira, with a blaze in her eyes that was either anger or fierce mischief, wrenched the bowl from Neyla's hands--and was tackled from behind by Suli, who plunged her face-first back into the river.
"Thought she might need cooling off again," Suli said.
Tira came up coughing as hard as the others were laughing. This time, the fire in her blue eyes was definitely anger, but by the time Suli had soaped her fur again, rinsed it, and brushed it out as they lay on the bank, drying out in the now-hot sun, everything had been forgotten.
Almost everything. Elana hadn't forgotten Tira's flirting with the guard. Surely Tira wouldn't actually dare...?
She got her answer later the same day.
Abanu had already called for Suli, and Elana decided to go for a short walk, to see the sunset and, perhaps, tire herself enough to forget the longings that were nagging her again. Jabari had wanted to accompany her, but she'd made it clear--with a few well-placed blushes--that she hadn't exactly gotten used to the chamber-pots yet and would prefer to... well, to do as she had done at home, at least for a while. Fortunately, he hadn't argued or sent for one of the fabric screens, so she was alone.
She wandered from the tents into open grassland, then rested on a flat rock still warm from the day's heat. Was it normal, she wondered, to feel this--this *need*--so often? Only days ago, she hadn't even known this kind of pleasure, and last night she'd needed it so much that she'd satisfied it herself...
A rustling in the grass nearby caught her attention, and she crouched, not wanting to be seen. Had Jabari been right to want her guarded? She waited, out of sight, heart racing.
"Here. I think we're far enough."
"I know I'm far enough." The first voice was female; the second, male.
"Oh, yes, nice and ready..." Even though the words were quiet, she recognized the voice now, and cold crept into her. It was Tira.
A low, throaty chuckle. "I've been ready ever since this morning... oh, that's *good*..."
It was not Abanu's voice, she was certain of that. Elana crept silently forward until the grass was thin enough that she could see them. She wasn't sure she really *wanted* to see them--and yet, something drew her irresistibly forward.
The black-maned guard was lying on his back, hands behind his head, loincloth undone so that his erection stood free. Tira, nude on hands and knees before him, was slowly stroking her tongue over and around his scrotum, and now she moved up to bathe the hard length from base to glistening tip. The guard moaned, chest heaving as his body tensed, relaxed, and tensed again, in time with the strokes of her tongue.
Elana, unable to look away, realized she was breathing hard, too, and she fought to control it, afraid they would hear.
"Stop," the guard gasped finally, "stop, it's too--"
Tira flashed him a smile; she'd already stopped. Now she knelt over him, leaning back so he could watch as she parted her labia with one hand and teased her clitoris with the other.
The guard placed his hand underneath, sliding his fingers inside. "Looks like you missed a spot when you dried off this morning," he rasped, "'cause you're soaking wet here, m'lady..."
Tira laughed quietly, then straddled him, and Elana watched his thick length disappear into her, then slide halfway out, wet with her, and then back in...
The rhythm intensified quickly, breaths turning to moans and gasps and growls, fierce and quick and low. He rolled on top of her, and she gripped his shoulders, panting as he thrust in and out.
Elana's heart pounded. It was so strange and exciting, this watching, seeing something she knew she shouldn't, something that was supposed to be private, something that was so hard and fast, now, so different from the slow licking and touching at the beginning. She felt her clitoris throb but didn't dare even to cup a hand between her legs, afraid she would betray herself with some sound.
The guard's breathing now was a rhythm she recognized from Abanu, and Tira recognized it too.
"Yes," she breathed, "yes, give it to me, fill me up..."
The guard's body jerked and tensed, and the explosive breath made it clear he was holding back a roar that would have deafened anyone near and sent the saurocs stampeding out of sight. At last, after a final spasm, he withdrew.
Tira looked down. "Well," she said slyly, "I can't go back looking like this."
"Mm?"
"You're going to have to clean me up before I go," she said.
Understanding dawned. "I think I can do that."
"You'll have to be thorough..."
He lowered his head between her legs. "His lordship's guards always do their work well."
His tongue dipped into her again and again, bathing, teasing, testing where her breath hitched in a gasp, where it released in a sigh.
Elana watched. Tira must have had some practice in secret lovemaking--even when arousal rose to climax, when Tira's back arched and she dug handfuls of loose earth, she did not cry out.
Elana waited until they both seemed asleep, then crept away slowly back the way she'd come. Her entire body felt hot. She walked quickly back to their tent--how long had she been gone? Had they been looking for her?
To her relief, only Neyla was in the chamber, but Elana, as usual, was betrayed by her expression.
"You saw something...?"
Elana nodded, still too out of breath to trust herself to speak.
Neyla smiled slightly. "Something that both excited and embarrassed you, judging by that blush." She poured water into a gourd and handed it to Elana. "Tira?" she asked.
"And the guard," Elana said, sipping the water. "From this morning."
Neyla sighed. "I thought so." She took the empty gourd back and filled it with racha for herself, sipping the steaming drink before speaking again.
"Maybe Tira's smarter that way than any of us," she said quietly. "Elana... Do you love Abanu?"
Elana blinked. "Of course."
Neyla nodded and took another sip. "I still remember the first day I saw him. I know he loved me then. It was like he'd never seen any women before me. The way he looked at me, the way he touched me... Once, he came just from touching me, just from my pleasure.
"Now..." She sighed again. "I knew things would change. I was his First, after all, and I loved the thought of bearing cubs for him. I kept waiting for it to happen, but one year passed, and another, and then he took a Second, and a Third..."
Neyla sat on one of the cushions and set the empty gourd on the table. "And now... When you go to him, he's charming, isn't he? Seductive. Like he used to be with me.
"Now his only love-talk to me is of the son he wants. It's like the saurocs breeding; he mounts me, he finishes, and I walk away..."
Neyla's voice had been getting softer and softer as she spoke, and as she finished it was barely a whisper. Her eyes were dry, but the dull sorrow in her voice made Elana's heart ache.
"All he wants from me now is a son," Neyla said. "And I can't even give him that."
Elana sat down next to her and took the First's hands in her own. She had no idea what to say, but somehow, just holding her hands was something, was almost enough.
Neyla laughed dryly. "So I think Tira is right, in her own way. Seek your pleasures where you can, Elana. Enjoy as much as you can, before it's taken from you. It doesn't last."
She sighed, then gently pulled a hand free and touched her fingertips to Elana's cheek. "You remind me so much of how I was," she said quietly. "How I wish I could be again."
Neyla moved closer, and Elana's heart raced. Neyla lightly kissed the younger lioness' forehead, then drew back. "You're shaking."
Elana looked at the floor, studying the patterns of color on the rug, afraid to speak, afraid not to, afraid to lose this moment, afraid of what could happen. What she wanted frightened her with its intensity, but it was building like the storm clouds of the rains.
"Last night," she began. "I... I heard..."
Neyla smiled slightly. "I'm sorry we woke you."
"No, it's... I..." She had no idea what words to use. She didn't even know if a name existed for the kinds of thoughts that were coming to her now.
"Elana," Neyla broke in, her voice soft and gentle. "Do you trust me?"
"Yes." She did; she knew that.
"Close your eyes."
She did. She felt Neyla moving near her, then felt warm breath against her mouth. A moment passed, and then she felt the warmth of Neyla's tongue against her lower lip.
Elana gasped and pulled back, but she kept her eyes closed.
Neyla's voice was a tickling whisper in her ear. "No fear now. No shame. Only the truth. Did you like that?"
"Yes," Elana whispered, and it was the truth. Suddenly she felt it was the only true thing she'd ever known.
"Would you like me to do it again?"
"Yes."
"All right."
The kisses were slow and savoring, light touches of tongues and lips, their whiskers brushing and tingling against each other. Neyla gently laid her down on the cushions, her hands cupping Elana's breasts, stroking over her stiffening nipples.
Elana felt dizzy, felt almost as if her body were no longer her own, but a breathtaking foreign landscape of infinite shade and texture. It began to seem as if she and Neyla were sharing a single body, as if, when she caressed Neyla's breasts, she could feel the same pleasure herself.
Elana felt Neyla's hand slip between her legs, and she allowed herself a soft moan of anticipation. Neyla's fingertips brushed over her labia, dipping inside and smoothing the warmth over her.
Neyla paused a moment, then crossed the room to another table where a small bottle was kept warm over a candle flame. She unstoppered it, then drizzled warm oil over Elana's vulva, letting it trickle over her clitoris.
The next touch was smooth and wet and so intense that she fought to keep from trembling. Neyla's fingers stroked, lingering just enough, pausing just enough, continuing just enough.
She was close, she was so close to giving herself up to climax. She wanted it, needed it--but fought it, forced herself to sit up enough to pour some of the warmed oil into her palm, to lay Neyla down beside her, to touch her the same way.
Neyla growled softly in her throat, and Elana felt the vibration of it. Every sense was heightened, every touch a shiver, every breath a murmur of pleasure.
Making love with Abanu was like a storm, building, breaking, then sweeping away as quickly as it had come. This was like the wind across the grasslands; pleasure rose and fell in luxurious waves, stirring and teasing, dying away and building again. It was like the current of the river, and it pulled at them both.
She clung to Neyla, breathed in her scent, and realized she was saying the lioness' name over and over again, quietly, like a prayer, or a blessing. When her first climax came, it was not a burst of ecstasy but a smooth, sweet soaring that left her aching for more.
Neyla's clitoris was a hard bead under her fingers; Elana stroked around it gently, aware that Neyla's breaths were coming in low grunts, that she was close. Elana wanted to make her come, wanted to make her forget everything except this moment, forget all the pain and sorrow, and remember only this, only the sweetness of their bodies against each other. And when at last Neyla surrendered, muffling her deep roar in the cushions, Elana felt herself come again, and it was as if the warm oil had been poured over her entire body.
They lay entwined, breathing in each other's scent, sometimes grooming each other's faces, touching tongues slowly. Elana had never tasted anything sweeter than Neyla's mouth, spiced with the aftertaste of racha, and she trembled without understanding why. Her body felt loose and open and strangely new, almost tender, somehow, although there was no pain.
She had not thought she could feel this way.
\* \* \*
That night Elana woke in the darkness and lay there for several long minutes, her heart pounding in the silence. She wasn't sure what had woken her, and suddenly she was afraid of what she might hear.
But the night was quiet around her. She looked to Neyla's bed; the older lioness was asleep, her fur edged with silver moonlight. A breeze stirred, moving the tent gently.
What did she want?
She felt--the comparison was almost laughable, but it was true--as if she were a grass mat, the strands all unbraided, then woven back together in an unfamiliar pattern.
What did she truly want?
Quietly she left her bed and crossed to Neyla's.
Neyla stirred and woke. Her eyes met Elana's. Neither spoke, but Neyla smiled.
Elana climbed into the bed. Neyla's embrace was warm, asking nothing, demanding nothing. They held each other, and Elana drifted into sleep.
\* \* \*
The next night, Abanu called for Neyla. Elana watched as Neyla scented her fur, brushing it until it shone like sunlight on the river. Jabari brought her a gourd of something hot and pungent--it wasn't racha; the scent was foreign to Elana--and Neyla sipped at it until sunset.
"Herbs to open her up," Suli explained after Neyla was gone. "To get cubs." The Second sighed. "By Yaa's mane, let it take this time..."
"If you ask me, it's *his* fault," Tira snapped, overhearing this. "How do we know it isn't? If she'd listen to me--"
"Tira," Suli said, sounding tired.
"*He'd* never know the difference," Tira went on. "That new guard's got enough seed in him to get her a dozen cubs, if she'd only lie with him once."
"That's her choice, not ours."
"Well, she'd better do something," Tira said, crossing her arms. "Before he--"
"*Tira.*" Suli shot the younger lioness a look that made her fall silent.
Elana felt cold. "Before he... what?"
"There's still plenty of time," Suli replied firmly, and she would say nothing more.
It was barely an hour later when Neyla returned.
Elana's heart ached at the sight of her. This was not the same lioness who had loved her the evening before. Her eyes were empty, and yet even in suffering she carried herself with such grace, such broken dignity, that Elana's eyes burned with tears for her sake.
Neyla drew in a breath. "He... calls for Elana."
No one spoke.
Neyla swallowed. "He has done his work with me, it seems, and now he wants pleasure."
Tira's eyes glittered with rage. "He didn't even finish you, did he?"
Neyla's laugh was bitter. "Finish? He barely started. But I suppose once the soil is tilled and planted, there's no need to caress it."
Elana hesitated--then went to her, hugged her, longer than necessary, but not half as long as she wanted. She tilted her head to whisper in Neyla's ear. "I'll come to you tonight. I promise." She found she did not care if the others overheard.
Then she brushed her fur, drank two gourds of lukewarm racha in several long swallows, and went to Abanu's tent.
Surprisingly, he was not reclining on his bed this time; instead, he had a cloth draped over one arm and a basket over the other. He was nude, his penis relaxed into his loose sheath, and there was no sign, either by sight or scent, that he had been with Neyla earlier.
"I was thinking of our first night together, at the camp," he explained. "I was thinking how much sweeter love is under an open sky... Will you walk with me?"
Her body felt odd, tingling and oversensitive. She realized it had probably been a bad idea to drink so much racha at once, but she hadn't wanted him to suspect that... well, that she didn't want him.
And now, as he came to her and licked the hollow at the base of her throat, she heard herself moan and realized her body was betraying her. No matter what she thought of how he'd treated Neyla, she *did* want him. Needed him... His scent was making her weak, and the fur at her inner thighs was thickly wet.
*Seek your pleasures where you can...*
She followed him out of the tent. Abanu nodded to one of the guards, a young lion with a golden mane, who followed them while obviously trying not to look at either of them.
When the tents were faint smears of color in the distance, Abanu spread the cloth over the bent grasses. The sun was sinking into a crimson flare at the horizon, and the first stars glittered into the coming night. The guard sank a torch into the ground and lit it, then respectfully stepped back into the shadows.
Abanu stretched out on his back, the torchlight rippling over his body. She watched it play over his muscles, saw the shining highlight where the tip of his penis peeked out, saw the shadowed curves of the heavy sac beneath.
She knelt over him, as she had seen Tira do with her guard, and lowered her head to bathe him with her tongue. He groaned, his penis stiffening under the swirling strokes until he was fully erect.
"You... learn quickly," he panted.
She didn't want words. She straddled him, pushed until he was inside, pushed harder against him.
"Mmm... I see." Abanu's hands moved up the backs of her thighs, gripping her buttocks gently, then firmly, teasing under her tail. He pulled her down against him, working his hips in time with hers.
She bit the base of his throat, breathing hard through her mouth. She had no idea anymore who she was, who she loved, only what she wanted. She held her teeth against his fur, and when she came, bright and searing, she used her last remaining shred of self-control to keep from biting down.
As her climax ebbed, Abanu pushed her and rolled on top of her, still inside. He propped himself on his hands, and she wrapped her legs around him as he thrust, harder and harder with each stroke, crushing the grasses beneath the cloth, releasing a faint green sweetness around them.
He pressed harder against her, and as she heard his breathing shift, she felt her body warming again. By the time he shuddered and filled her, she was close to climax again herself.
"More," she breathed as he withdrew and collapsed next to her.
"More?" he echoed, panting. He laughed weakly. "How much racha did you drink tonight?"
"Two gourds. All at once."
He looked to the sky. "Merciful Yaa... I'm spent and you'll be wet until dawn." He propped himself up on one elbow. "Sekani!"
The guard stepped forward into the pool of torchlight. "My lord?"
"I have a task for you."
"My lord, I would not leave you unguarded--"
"You won't have to leave." Abanu smiled. "I order you to please my Fourth."
The guard blinked. "My lord, I..."
"Don't tell me you haven't been watching. Or listening."
Sekani's ears went back, and he looked uncomfortably at the ground. Then his eyes met Elana's, just for an instant, and she knew that he had been watching, and that he had enjoyed what he saw.
"Look at her," Abanu said.
Sekani did, reluctantly at first, then admiringly, his gaze sweeping over the full length of her body.
"She is beautiful, isn't she?" Abanu prompted.
"Yes, my lord."
"She is... desirable to you?"
"Yes, my lord." His voice was breathier now, his eyes locked on hers. He opened his mouth slightly, and she knew he was tasting her scent.
"Can you please her?"
The guard swallowed. "Most certainly, my lord. I... would be honored."
"Then come and do it." Abanu's tone was neither taunting nor challenging. He spoke as if he had asked the guard to fetch water or deliver a message.
Sekani took one last nervous glance at Abanu, then took off his loincloth. He was already erect, and though he wasn't as large as Abanu, something in his scent teased her.
Abanu stretched lazily, then rolled onto his side to watch, his penis limp and hanging against his thigh. "Make her roar," he said casually, "and I'll double this moon's pay."
Sekani showed no signs of hearing this. He sat down on the cloth, and Elana moved to sit in his lap, nuzzling his chest, drinking in his scent.
He licked her chin, then, as she tilted her head back, her throat. Then he cupped her breasts in his hands and licked her nipples until they were sore.
"How can I please you, my lady?" he breathed into her ear.
She lay back and pulled him down against her, feeling him throb between them. "Anything," she growled in a voice she didn't recognize. "Just make me come."
He slid inside easily. "As you wish, my lady."
Her claws tore into the cloth. She had no idea how--and didn't care--but the angle and rhythm he chose sent rising waves of pleasure through her entire body. She made a kind of whimpering moan she'd never heard herself make before, and distantly she heard Abanu grunt softly in appreciation.
Then Sekani withdraw. "Not yet, my lady," he said gently, and he parted her labia with his hands and lowered his muzzle there.
Slowly he licked around her clitoris, but never touching it, until she thought she would go mad from desire. He slid two fingers inside her, pressing deftly. She arched her back against his touch, and the sound that reached her ears came from deep in her chest.
At last he mounted her again, thrusting slowly at first, then faster, but never losing the spot that was growing hotter and brighter inside her. She held him, dug claws into him, saw a flare before her eyes--
--and roared, again and again as she came, until she had no breath left, and even then she could hear the sound echoing, around her, within her, her blood pounding thunder in her ears.
He withdrew, and she realized dimly that he had climaxed as well. She felt barely connected to her body, as though the slightest of breezes could blow her away, off across the plain, into the starlit night.
"Well done," she heard Abanu say, and then she was asleep.
\* \* \*
She woke in her own bed. She was first aware of a throbbing pain in her head, and then of a cool cloth pressed against it. She opened her eyes, expecting to see Jabari, but it was Neyla.
It was morning, she realized. Or afternoon... Her mouth was dry and tasted of stale spice.
"The headache won't last long," Neyla said, wetting the cloth again and wringing it out. "Just lie still." She chuckled. "It must have been a good time."
"I guess so," Elana mumbled. Her memories of the night before were a series of hazy sensations, as if she'd had a fever and been dreaming. "How'd I get here?"
"Jabari helped you in."
Elana closed her eyes, enjoying the feel of the cloth against her temples, then her nose, then her paw pads. "I'm sorry... I didn't keep my promise."
She felt Neyla nuzzle her cheek. "It's all right. I know you meant to. That... means a lot."
Elana opened her eyes and looked into Neyla's, then reached a hand up to touch the lioness' face. "Neyla..."
Neyla stepped back. "Don't say it," she said softly. She paused. "How does your head feel?"
"Better."
"Good." Neyla brushed her muzzle against Elana's damp forehead. "Get some rest."
\* \* \*
Another month passed before it happened.
Abanu had been away for several days, leading to an unexpected atmosphere of casual holiday. Jabari taught Elana to play an elaborate game with light and dark stones, and they held tournaments until Tira, tired of losing, threatened to throw the whole thing into the river.
Elana had spent every night in Neyla's bed. A few nights they made love, needing no drink to kindle desire. Most of the time, though, they simply held each other until they fell asleep. Neyla seemed distracted and troubled during the day, but at night she relaxed, and her sleep was deep and restful. Once Elana woke and lay there for hours watching Neyla sleep, wondering what she was dreaming of. A son, perhaps? Or something else?
Elana was washing clothes at the river when she saw Abanu return with his guards and go into his tent. She scrubbed a robe against the rocks--Tira spilled racha worse than a cub with melon-juice--and wondered idly who he would send for at sunset. Perhaps he would rest tonight... She finished the washing, then spread everything out to dry in the afternoon sun.
Reaching the women's tent, she pushed the flap aside and went in--and stopped.
Neyla was sitting on her bed, her head lowered, and Neyla--the stately, the First, the lady above them all--was weeping silently, her shoulders shaking. Suli and Tira stood nearby looking on. It was obvious that neither of them knew what to say or do.
Elana looked from Suli to Tira. "What's happened?"
Suli glanced at Neyla, but the First did not look up. Finally Tira spoke, her voice much softer than Elana had ever heard it before.
"Abanu," she said. "He's... putting her aside. He's released her."
Elana longed to go to Neyla, to comfort her somehow, even though she still didn't know exactly what was wrong. "I don't understand."
They left Neyla and went outside. "She's no longer his First," Suli explained gently.
Then Elana understood, and anger tightened her throat. "Because she hasn't had cubs."
Suli nodded. "Because she hasn't had cubs."
Elana sighed. "What will she do?"
Tira and Suli exchanged glances. "She can't stay here," Tira said finally.
"Did he bring back a new First?" Elana was surprised at how bitter her own voice sounded.
Tira looked at Suli.
Elana frowned. "What?"
"He hasn't said anything yet," Suli said hurriedly. "But usually they choose another from their house. Usually... someone young."
\* \* \*
Elana spent the rest of the afternoon sitting alone by the river, watching the slow movement of water, braiding little twists of grass and watching them float away. She remembered the mat Halima had woven for her, back when she had known nothing, nothing of men or wives or love, nothing of herself...
Was this what Abanu had had in mind when he made her his Fourth? A new lioness, young and unspoiled, to take the place of his First?
The sun was setting. Would he call for her? Would she go to him if he did?
She went back to their tent. The evening meal was silent. Neyla ate nothing, her gaze distant, as if she looked out at a vast and empty horizon.
Jabari came for Elana as they were finishing, all their plates barely touched. "Lord Abanu wishes to speak with you."
Elana cut her meat into smaller and smaller pieces, not looking up from her plate. "Tell my lord Abanu that I'm not feeling well."
Jabari looked uncomfortable. "My lady..."
"I will not be able to speak with him tonight," Elana said.
Jabari cast his gaze down. "As you wish, my lady."
He left their chamber. Elana looked up and saw Neyla looking at her. The older lioness' expression was unreadable.
\* \* \*
Night fell cool and soft. Elana lay awake, waiting. Finally she heard someone get up and leave the tent. She waited a moment, then got up as well, took her sleeping-mat and pack from their hiding places, and slipped out into the night.
Neyla had already passed the tents, a woven bag slung over one shoulder. She turned as Elana approached. "Elana, go back inside."
"You weren't even going to say goodbye." Elana meant the words to sound accusing, but tears wavered in her voice.
"I thought it would be better." Neyla turned away and kept walking. Elana followed.
"Where will you go?"
"I don't know."
"Back to your clan?"
Neyla slowed, then shook her head. "No. I can't go back there, not now. Not as a released First." She adjusted the strap on the bag and walked faster.
When they reached the river, Neyla turned. "Elana, go back."
"No."
"You're young; you can be what he needs."
"That isn't who I want to be."
"He's still your husband."
"Of my body," Elana replied softly. "Not my heart. I won't stay in Abanu's house without you. I can't."
"Elana..." Neyla's voice was pleading, and tears shone in her eyes.
"I'm saying it," Elana said, each word fierce and clear. "I'm saying it because it's true. I love you. I love you, and I'm going with you."
They held each other by the river, the stars shining over them, both of them trembling, caught in a current that neither could escape. Neyla's arms were warm and strong, and Elana returned the embrace. *This is home,* she thought, *this is my journey*.
Neyla drew in a breath and spoke through tears. "I didn't think... I could love anyone again," she said. "But I can. I do." She kissed Elana's forehead, muzzle, throat. "I do."
The river stretched like a promise into the distance. Elana took the gold ring from her ear, then gently removed Neyla's ring as well. She dropped them both into the slow water, a flash of gold in the deepening night, then followed her mate out across the grassland.
This work and all characters (c) 2008 Renee Carter Hall ("Poetigress"). May not be reprinted or redistributed without written permission.
This story first appeared in Heat*, issue \#5, published by Sofawolf Press.*