The young warrior bound his way out of the smoke and confusion. That was when he saw something he’d never forget: Large, green beasts mounted atop even larger, feral canines that were clawing and ripping apart his tribe wherever he looked.
Fresh death greeted his nostrils and filled him with fear. Kasha’s legs took off and carried him through the grass. He danced past dead wolven bodies around him, but couldn’t look down. He might have actually recognized them. Maybe the ones left could defend the village. He would be home soon. Just a few more minutes.
Huffing, Kasha collapsed onto the ground to catch his breath. The air was dead silent now, even the cicadas didn’t dare make a noise. Kasha sighed, dropped his weapon and looked down. His fur was peppered with soot and white powder. A wave of shame overtook him. Why was he hiding in the grass? There was not time to even breathe.
Kasha grabbed his spear and got up. On the horizon was his home; a few wooden-brick houses, and many smaller huts. He ran once again but saw black dots ahead of him circling around his home town. The young wolf crouched in the golden stalks. One of the circling ‘Wolftaurs’ passed by, with a Grimeskin mounted atop and looking out for enemies. Kasha darted past the vegetable fields and hid behind one of the homes, evading the patrol. Had the Grimeskins already arrived?
Peeking out, he finally saw one of his adversaries up close: A hulking green warrior with rough skin and ornaments of bones and teeth clanging from his wrists and neck. The green beast stared on, shrugged and then turned back to the center of town. Kasha slinked from one alley to another until he saw the town center, a humble conjunction of two dirt roads. When he came out onto a path he was treated to a whole other sight.
“Enngh!”
He couldn’t look, because he knew what was happening. On every corner and every hideaway, a Grimeskin had one wolven girl bent down, or against a wall, casually ravaging each one in their tight grasp. Kasha’s heart pounded in his throat. Some of the girls screamed, some cried, and a few tried to suffer in silence as a wall of green worked and ground over their young bodies.
He shook inside. Someone was going to die for this. Kasha’s rising sense of morbid curiosity brought him to his family’s home. He was sure that his father hadn’t made it, and his mother already passed on seasons ago. But he had a younger sister, and sure enough there she was, her claws sunk into the bark of a tree as she was being mounted by what had to be one of the alphas.
The male had her golden locks tangled between his fingers. He leisurely tugged on a fistful of her hair, causing Kasha’s sister to wince. Each stab was slow and casual, and elicited a messy squelch from between them. The scent made Kasha blush. He knew he shouldn’t be watching this, but he had to do something. Trembling, he clutched his spear just as the Grimeskin let go of his sister’s scalp, only to hook his burly green arm around her neck and force her to look up. She did, and even Kasha noticed the confused, hazy look in his sister’s eyes.
The Grimeskin resumed his invasion of Camellia, who rocked and scraped against the tree trunk. Her mouth opened, as if she were about to yell or were in pain. The hulking male took full grasp of its prize and covered her breasts. Her head fell forward, and eyes pinched shut while he plundered. Kasha saw him speak some broken words to her, and she found herself pressing back against the invader. Camellia cringed, then smiled ever so lightly. With that, Kasha’s sister finally screamed for the male, not of wrath or indignation or pain, but of pleasure.
Kasha’s spear quaked in his paw. This wasn’t supposed to happen. He looked over to see his younger sister a quivering mess in the invader’s clutches. She reached down and massaged her battered muscles, even with the grimeskin chief still deep inside.
Kasha closed his eyes and sat down for a moment. He had a choice to make, his little sister had already made hers. No. There was no way to stay here. Kasha peeled himself away from the spectacle and ran for the vegetable gardens, ducking away from sight. The Wolftaurs still had a loose ring around town, but Kasha sprinted out into the wild wheat fields, away from the home he would never return to.
Head Hunters
Hoo-hoo! Hoo-hoo!
Kasha stopped to rest. He’d been running past dusk, and now the owls had come out to play. The young wolf sprawled out on the ground. Goldgrass plains were typically silent, and Kasha’s ears would definitely alert him if trouble was ahead. Kasha had been on the run for hours, and in that time saw none of his own tribe.
“What if I’m the only one left,” Kasha whispered to himself.
That thought turned the pit of his stomach. He’d never thought about living entirely on his own. He couldn’t stay here, because even now the head-hunters were roaming through the wheat fields.
Then a small bonfire rose up over the moonlit grass stalks, a lone sign of life in these newly-emptied lands. Could it be his friends? A remnant of his tribe rallying in the night? He sure hoped so. Kasha crawled silently toward that red light. The party there wouldn’t likely notice Kasha even if they were on the lookout. He crawled forward until he felt the fire’s warmth on the tips of his ears, and stopped crawling once he heard a high-pitched, mischievous voice rise above the fire.
“This deal is so raw! We gotta clean the lands and watch the outskirts so the big boys get to enjoy the booty!”
“Yea, yeah,” another voice joined in. “This ain’t what I rode out here for. If I don’t get a piece of action soon I’m gonna, gonna, maybe let the mounters die next time they need me at their back!”
Kasha looked up and saw silhouettes of green huddled around the fire. It was the head hunters. He dug his hind paws into the ground and lunged right toward the fire. On the first flash of green he saw, Kasha shoved the spear tip forward and into the enemy. A bone crunched upon his thrust.
“Oww! Mother-fluffer!”
The high-pitched curse would have sounded almost comical on another day. Kasha ripped out the spear and spit up soil under his paws as he sprinted off into the night.
“Get him! Get him! Call the wolftaurs I don’t care! I’m tired of this!”
The fields were Kasha’s home, and on foot he easily outran the ‘head-hunters’ and their hand axes. Kasha smiled quietly to himself, hearing the two voices cursing behind him as he widened the distance. Kasha didn’t know where to go, but at least he’d gotten a little revenge.
“Ungh!”
Then he felt an impact on his side.
“Shh! Get down!”
Something had knocked him over. Kasha went tumbling to the ground. He opened his eyes. It was a fellow wolven who had pulled him into the grass.
“Shut up! We’ve been stalking these guys four hours! Stay down!”
The two head-hunting Grimeskins ran up following in search of Kasha, and the two hidden wolves sprang out, surprised the smaller beasts, and bit their necks clear through. The ax throwers died quickly.
“Time to go,” one of them said. His voice sounded familiar.
“Reince?” Kasha asked.
“That you Kasha?”
It was Reince! He was alive!
“Come on, Wolftaurs coming. Going to be here soon.”
Reince reached down to collect the hand ax from the green corpses then he leads the three of them away.
Kasha stared idly out into the late night. His nose already told him that no one had followed them.
“Hey. Your turn,” Reince tapped Kasha’s shoulder, “get some rest.”
Kasha staggered back to their impromptu hiding spot, and curled up into the grass to stare up at the twinkling sky. He let his eyes rest until the muggy sunrise got him up. That morning, Reince was staring off to the east, past a huddle of sunflowers.