NINE

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At nightfall the next day, Jacob examined me once again, and pronounced me remarkably resilient and fit to travel. He didn’t seem entirely pleased with the decision, but now that we had somewhere to go, none of us wished to be waiting around so near Nordport.

I wasn’t looking forward with any sort of eagerness to donning my pack again, of course, even if it did feel more hopeful than sitting about. I was somewhat surprised, all the same, when Rebecca insisted it be split.

It only took one glance to reveal that she had crafted a harness for herself, and that made the intent quite plain. Little though I enjoyed being a cause for more work, the assistance was greatly appreciated while I was still unused to the labour.

The soldiers were somewhat shocked, and Elizabeth went so far as to be indignant, but Rebecca would not be dissuaded. “I might not be up to your physical standards,” said she, “but I can carry some more weight than my own clothing, and there’s nothing to be gained in sparing me from anything resembling work. We are in this together; I will pull my own weight.”

And that was that. She didn’t take all that much of my burden, but it was enough that the going felt somewhat easier.

We kept to the lighter portions of the forest, enough in the open that the moonlight kept us from tripping, but not wholly exposed to the sight of any who might look from the roads. It certainly wasn’t easy going, but with Jacob frequently enquiring as to my status – and Rebecca’s, to be fair – as it was, it was easier to remember when I was growing weary and ask for a break, even if Elizabeth was discontent with every moment thus spent. By the time we chose to seek a campsite, I no longer needed prompting; perhaps I pushed myself slightly more than he might have liked, but Jacob was content that I was willing to ask for my own sake when the load felt a little too heavy.

Glad as I was to stop for the day, I wasn’t nearly so poorly off as the first night; setting up the tents was actually somewhat restful, and by the time it was done, I felt well enough that, had it been merely been a rest break we’d taken, I could still have pressed on. I trusted the judgement and woodscraft of those with me; when they said the campsite was good, I took them at their word.

I was looking over the tents for any sign of undue wear when Rebecca touched my arm. She drew herself in against me, leaning her head against my shoulder and sliding her arms around me in a comfortable embrace that I was only too happy to return.

“What a horrible mess we’ve got ourselves into,” she murmured, somewhat muffled. “At least the company is rather nice.”

“The company is quite nice,” I replied, stroking over her ears. With her up against me so, it was very easy to set aside Elizabeth’s impatience.

She reached up to run a finger along my jaw. “I should likely ask for your attentions sooner rather than later. Where we are, you’ve no obligation, but…”

“Hush,” I cut in, nudging my snout against her wrist. “It’s a thing I enjoy doing. The night before last I might not have, but I’m feeling a great deal better now.”

She squeezed closer to me, sighing. “It feels so… so irreverent. Going off for pleasure as though nothing’s wrong.”

A distant memory came to mind, and it seemed suitable for the moment. “When I was still in school, there was a thing they told us,” I said. “I’m not sure I remember it exactly, but it was something like… The best tribute to the dead is to keep living.”

She blinked, and chuckled softly. “’To honour the dead, do not live as though dead yourself.’ ‘Tis close enough.” Stretching onto her toes, she brushed her lips against my jaw. “Bide a moment. I’ll let someone know that we’ll be downwind a trice.”

That I hadn’t expected; the tents were already prepared, after all. But perhaps it was best. Better to remove ourselves somewhat than to disturb our fellows with our union.

Not that we needed go far. The forest was still abuzz with nighttime noises, despite the encroaching winter, and the trees themselves did much to muffle sounds to that they at least did not seem so immediate. Still, it would be well, for a number of reasons, to keep as quiet as we might.

The chill in the air discouraged us from lingering. Once we’d shed our clothing, we spent only a minute or so renewing our familiarity with each other’s forms. Her deft fingers brought my member to rigid attention with ease, despite the chill; ease enough to believe that we were indeed in good time. My fingers in turn, when they left the soft swell of her breasts and meandered lower, found her warm and wet; when I brought that hand up to lick her dew off of my fingers, it was more intoxicating than finest brandy.

There was, of course, no handy bed this time. But a nearby beech was broad enough for her to lean upon, its bark smooth enough that her fur was adequate shielding from it; she pressed one arm against it, crosswise, and tucked her head under that arm as I crouched behind her.

Her sex was a trifle more snug than I remembered; once I’d pushed in a few fingers’ breadths, I but rocked in place behind her, bearing in slightly, then easing off, waiting for her body to welcome me. Despite that resistance at first, I wasn’t kept waiting for very long at all, and as I plunged into her welcoming heat, she muffled a whine in the crook of her arm, the claws of her free hand pulling up splinters of bark.

Leaning over as I was, legs coiled, it felt as though I could put very nearly as much weight into my thrusts as if she’d been lying fully beneath me, and pushing back was that much easier than lifting myself up would have been; I drove into her faster, I think, than ever I had done before, and she writhed under me and pushed back into each urgent thrust. My hands found the bark in turn; far enough out to the sides that I needed to sink my claws in, yet not so far that my grip felt in any way precarious. Thus anchored, I summoned up more of my strength and pounded into her all the more, pushing my snout down against her neck to muffle the growl of need that rose up inside me.

The hand that she wasn’t leaning upon drifted downward – I felt her fingertips brush my pistoning shaft before she brought them back upwards slightly, fingering herself, spurring her pleasure along. Some part of my mind knew that that was well, especially when she shuddered beneath me, clenching around my aching manhood.

That part of my mind which was more in control didn’t care. All that part of me knew was that she felt delightful beneath me and around my rod, and that the strain of the last few days had built into a terrible need for release. That part of me cared only for pounding harder, faster, losing all cares and sensations of the world in the stroking grip of her sex. That part of me was a beast let loose to feed, growling as I bit and tugged at the back of her neck, muffling what might have otherwise been a roar when my pleasure surged through me and splashed deep into her waiting body.

For the next minute or so, I cared nothing for the chill in the air. The heat embracing my manhood was all I needed to keep the cold at bay.

As my breaths settled into their accustomed rhythm, though, good sense reasserted itself. I drew free, nuzzled at her neck with a vague twinge of guilt for having allowed my teeth into play, and stood, offering a hand to ease her upright in turn. I took comfort first in not having broken skin, second in that she didn’t seem upset in the least about the rough treatment. Far from it; she was broadly smiling as I hadn’t seen her do since that last evening at the Blue Ribbon house.

“Are you feeling better, now?” she asked as she slid into her shift.

I couldn’t help but laugh. “Much, but isn’t that the thing that I should be asking you?” I tugged my belt back into place.

Still smiling, she touched her fingers to her lips, then to mine. “You’ve not failed in that yet, Edmond. Believe you me, this was most definitely no exception.”

The relaxed moment was welcome. Even if Elizabeth seemed to disapprove in some manner, it was easier to bear than it might have been. After all, I’d only done what one of the other men might well have needed to had I not been present. That wasn’t such a horrible thing, was it?

Under the older woman’s glare, I couldn’t help but doubt slightly. But only slightly, for the moment. I’d done the one thing at which I was practised, and I fancied that I’d done it well; with that, I could be satisfied.

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