Where Silverfox Meets Coyote (Story/Vekraihr)

[Story]

The entity known as simply The Fox had somehow managed to find herself somewhere so far off the beaten path that it was hard to discern the way back. From someone who was used to navigating the various twists and turns of the dark web, navigating the rural wilderness of California, somewhere in the midst of the San Gabriel Mountains. Darkness overwhelmed her, made even denser from the canopy of trees that prevented much more than a sliver of natural moonlight to filter down to the floor of dead leaves and rotten vegetation, all tangled up with fallen branches and shrubbery. This was a professional hiker's nightmare all by itself, and somehow a girl that should have been better off in one of the hipster bars in Los Angeles proper had managed to stumble into a split in the treeline. The only kind of clearing you were going to find out here.

Thunderclouds rumbled overheads and a thin mist of rain fell between the gaps to soak the ground, bringing with it the distinct smell of musk, of blood, of dead things and decay. She was crouched at an odd angle in the grass in clothes that were already sodden with the coming of rain. It was a strange sight, though, as there seemed to be a circle of flowers that bloomed in a perfect circle around her body, but left dead, brown grass behind to fill it.

She did eventually sway and flop backward until her ass hit mud, only to tip forward again as nausea clenched her guts and sent their contents right back up. Copper and the foul taste of uncooked critter overwhelmed her taste buds and only helped with the loud retching that had her convulsing in her circle, closely followed by the slash of pain that sent another wave of dizzying sickness through her. Her stomach heaved and the rest of her convulsed in response until there was nothing left but dry heaving and an urge to simply pass out. She fought it, for now, in her wild attempt to reorient herself with her current surroundings.

Coughing, she swiped her hand across her mouth, smearing crimson across her cheek and bringing to her attention the dark stains that covered her hands, embedded deep down in every crevice, underneath her nails. It wasn't the first time she had been in this state, but the horror was there every time; every time she calmed the panicked race in her brain with the knowledge that this wasn't human blood, but probably a rabbit. Sometimes it caught birds, but with the frail human form that harbored the ancient spirit, that was a very rare thing.

Only this time something different than Silverfox's usual antics occurred. The she-bitch (fox) thought to reach even deeper into its seemingly unending well of fuckery to try and shift the girl's form into its desired shape: a flea ridden forest animal (fox). It hadn't worked. The pain had been too much for even the spirit to endure and had only just twisted her musculature back into its original state before its human vessel, her, passed out from the strain. This time, she had even blacked completely out while the her spiritual counterpart frolicked.

Her leg was broken. Or it had been broken. The limb was twisted at an odd angle in the ground in front of her, and acted as the source of pain that stabbed right through her. The dark leggings she wore underneath a voluminous tee that now clung heavily to the girl's slender frame were ripped and snagged in several places, the worst being the jagged tear from knee to thigh. Blood clung to the fabric and painted olive-toned flesh turned ghastly pale by the brute trauma was painted with it, despite no trace of the break except for a darkening bruise that was making a reappearance underneath the skin.

Panic almost seized her as her mind grasped the situation. Regardless that the bone had knit itself back together, the fracture hadn't been set properly, and that was only doing more damage than it had been. Desperately, she clawed her mind for just a sneeze of the fucking power the fox itself wielded and came back with handfuls of air and nothing. Her throat convulsed, noise squeaking past chapped lips as she struggled to pull in a breath as her chest tightened and head spun in circles. Desperately, the girl patted herself down for signs of her cell phone.

Nope.

She was well and truly fucked unless she convinced her body that it was a good idea to try and walk herself back to civilization. Another panicked sound trembled from her lips again as she glanced back down to the twisted leg. Nope. She was going to die in the fucking mountains. And here she had always assumed she'd die by gun point.

@Vekraihr

 

[Vekraihr]

Overhead swirled ominous clouds of inky blackness, darkening the tone of the midnight world as Tiriaq gazed skyward. Cold, stinging rain struck his olive tone skin and dampened his cropped black hair until it fell from its typically disheveled looking appearance. Jaw clenched, stronger and squarer than his fully Native brethren— evidence of his mother’s collusion with some of the European tourists who visited his previous reservation— and shaven with a straight razor until it was as smooth as the skin of his cheeks. His eyes appeared dark in this depth of night, though the brief, brilliant flashes of blue electricity revealed a verdant hue. Set between, an angular and slightly smaller than befitting his face nose flared open as he drew a deep breath of the petrichor rising from the damp ground. He watched as the clouds lit from within with the energetic lightning which yearned to discharge and he could feel the static building on his skin. Something called to him through the evening and had done so for quite some time now; a voice in the distance, vaguely familiar and urgent.

His dreams had grown increasingly erratic as the nights passed on and this night had been particularly horrific. His sight was torn from him occasionally in violent flashes, set into the sockets of a small predator ambushing prey and prowling a few miles from his cabin. This being his home, he knew the land around well and would always attempt to find this creature come morning when he would rise from his vision slumber only to find the location barren and vacant. This troubled the spirit within him— as he had come to learn he was the reincarnation of Coyote; or, at least, was a vessel for his spirit— for the forest was not wont to die without some sort of imbalance or upset. However, on this evening his visions devolved into nightmares as the fox snapped a leg and the world seemed to shift as suddenly the perspective shifted into the mindset of a terrified and half-unconscious woman. At this, he startled awake in a cold sweat and he panted as his deep green hues darted around. Why the hell did Coyote seem so frustrated? He was urged out of bed at the spirit and made to dress and venture out into the rain where he found himself now.

Clad in dark leather boots, his feet slopped through the mud as he hastily followed the direction he’d seen in his vision and the direction Coyote pulled him in. He seemed frantic, it was unusual of him. Normally laid-back in nature, Coyote was going in circles in his thoughts. ‘Gotta find her. Gotta find her. Gotta find her. Gotta find her.’ “Jesus, fuck! I get it! Calm the fuck down, we’re going!” he yelled in a stern, bass tone to the voice in his mind as he stormed between the trees, even in the dead of night avoiding the branches and rocks which were many hiker’s downfalls. He’d not calmed down at all at that. Rather, forcing his will over the Native Man, his body shuddered as it shrank down into the comparatively diminutive Coyote. His fur color was more even and light compared to a natural creature and his eyes were a bright gold as opposed to the golden-brown of the creatures of his image. In this state, he was much more agile and quick, closing ground rapidly towards the site which called to him louder and louder with each step forward. Trees blurred swiftly to either side, passing through his field of vision in what would have been a disorienting manner for the man but the spirit felt no such fatigue at the moment.

‘Find. Find. Find. Find.’ repeated, like a singular mantra or maniacal obsession, as Coyote pushed his body as hard as the host would allow, straining the physicality between them but not quite breaking it. It took minutes rather than the hours it’d have taken by Tiriaq’s feet, but Coyote could see and smell the telltale signs of death, musk, and decay as it landed at the edge of the ring of dead grass. He could FEEL her in there, golden hues fixed towards the center of the ring as he released control of the body back to Tiriaq he groaned with frustration and pain, muscles aching from how hard the spirit had ridden him to this end. As he rose to his full stature, nearly 6’2” head and shoulders, his eyes made out a silhouette against the ground. Was that a woman? He knew visions were a thing, but it still didn’t help the shock he felt at the realization that she was actually there. As he stood there, stunned, the voice in his mind rose to a furious pitch, ‘HELP!’ Damn, right.

Tiriaq broke into a soft jog as he approached the bloodied and broken woman who appeared to have a horribly mangled leg. No way she could walk on that. As he approached the circle of blooms, he called out with the friendliest tone he could muster, which sounded pleasant with his voice, “Hello? Are you conscious?” He cautiously moved closer, hesitant to approach too quickly and risk her lashing out but the spirit within him wouldn’t allow him to dally too much. He’d found people in the woods before and helped them to safety, but he’d never seen anything quite like what she’d gone through before.

 

[Story]

Come the fuck on.

This wasn’t the worst thing that she had ever been through, right? She had been in worse situation and somehow made it out alive and kicking. Right? Right? She just had to use her head and figure it out. She was still too scared to try and get to her feet, but she did manage to flop back onto her ass, palms setting into the damp ground and dead leaves enough to push herself backwards until her back hit the trunk of a tree. Leaning her head back against it, she turned her eyes up to the canopy of swaying branches and leaves that towered all around her. She couldn’t tell if it was night or day; what she could see of the sky was a sullen grey of rolling clouds and, occasionally, the rumble of thunder. Water splattered her face as rain escaped the natural protection, running dirty rivulets down her cheeks.

OK.

...OK. Where are you? Where the fuck are you?

Her head tipped back down to her chest as she took in her surroundings. A fuckton of trees, bushes, grass that grew wild, mud, and just a whole bunch of nature that didn’t look like she was in a nice, groomed park somewhere and had just lost track of time. That meant that she was in the middle of fucking nowhere and the real question was -- how far out in the middle of fucking nowhere was she?

Cariss swallowed convulsively again as nausea stirred from her stomach again and panic rushed up to her head fast enough to make her vision spin. Leaning over to one side, her stomach heaved. This time, nothing but bile and a patch of partially digested fur landed in a lump of mucus and gross. The realization of what she had spat up almost made her gag again, but she swallowed instead, took a few deep breaths, and slumped back against the wet bark of the tree and closed her eyes for a moment to consider what she could do next.

Find a stick. Become a wizard. Trek through who the fuck knows how many miles until she found civilization. Starve to death in the wilderness because she wasn’t a fucking mountain man and didn’t know if the little red berries were edible or not. Get eaten by a bear, or maybe befriend one, and hope that it was a sentient creature that would just be her friend and spirit animal and lead her out of there like she was in a fucking young adult fantasy novel.

Right about now, she wished she was a CW character with plot armor on, since all the characters in the Vampire Diaries seemed to all be hot and always managed to get out of a pinch and not the unfortunate side character who died because of their ass fucked supernatural abilities. Except for Bonnie, but that’s a spoiler.

She was Bonnie right now.

So imagine her surprise when a masculine voice cut through her half delirious inner musings about what life would be like in a TV show. Gunmetal grey eyes popped open and jump started her heart back into a frenzy. She scrambled back up into a sitting position and squinted at the figure emerging from the thicket. Rather than lashing out, however, nervous laughter bubbled up in her throat, ending on a shrill note, then finally a snort.

“OK, we’re in Twilight. But I don’t want to be Bella,” she spluttered. Did that even answer his question?

Still, it seemed that hilarity was how she was coping with her current dilemma. From an outside perspective, she looked like one of the side characters out of a horror movie. You know, the friend that doesn’t quite make it out of the woods like the pretty blonde Final Girl. But not the slutty one, either. She was the pragmatic one who had the good ideas, but the others kept disregarding her, and so now here she was, looking like something the bog monster had spat up in rejection.

Inky dark hair was plastered to her scalp and face, twisting like tentacles down past her shoulders before appearing to meld with the dirty, ripped garments that clung to her frame from both the rain and mud and probably forest slime. Definitely a few twigs here and there, leaves, and the blood that at least mixed with the mud nicely. While she was avoiding the bigger issue of her mangled appendage because mentally, she didn’t want to deal with it, her leg had swollen up, and throbbed where her boot had become too tight around her ankle.

And she was pretty sure it was numb where the blood flow was being cut off.

All things pushed way, way off to the back of her brain, because if she remembered, then she might have been having a very different reaction now.

“Are you.. You’re not a park ranger of some sort, are you? They don’t usually walk around ass naked,” she pointed out, voice pitched a little too high, veiled behind the cheap humor and sarcasm in a poor attempt to hide the edge of fear.

 

[Vekraihr]

Of course, that impatient bastard had to shift and leave him naked. He’d barely had a moment to register it due to how much the spirit was flooding his mind with information but as he approached and she called out to him, he became all too aware of it. His body was lean and fit, a little larger than average due to his lifestyle but he wasn’t ripped by any means. His skin was very smooth looking, save for the hair of his legs and the thick hair which bisected his midsection. If she were to look, between his legs he appeared to be...average. Hard to tell in this weather and time of day.

Her statement had struck him strangely as he didn’t quite understand the reference, his brow furrowing as his forehead wrinkled and he looked genuinely perplexed. “Who the hell is Bella? And who in the fuck refers to midnight as ‘Twilight’ anymore?” Tiriaq questioned her, his accent obviously Native with a stronger emphasis on certain syllables, which caught her ear differently but not unpleasantly. His black low fade was steadily collecting against his scalp and forehead from the moisture of the steady rain.

His eyes slowly raked over her and around her, taking in all that was there to be known as he scrutinized everything. Fur and bloody chunks collected around her in piles of sick; she’d blood streaked on her fingers and face and she looked horribly unwell, and that was ignoring the broken leg which was bent at a strange angle beneath her. “Do I look like a goddamn ranger to you?” he seemed standoffish and abrasive, but not in a way that seemed hostile towards her. “I’m pretty sure those boys don’t go anywhere without their gear and compass,” he stated as he walked closer to her and inspected her a little closer. Apparently, he didn't care for the ranger service.

“You know, you really shouldn’t eat without...skinning--or cooking--the animal first...Very bad for the digestive tract,” he seemed almost amused by the observation, but his verdant eyes seemed quite concerned. “Also, your leg appears to be...broken. You’re not going to be able to get anywhere on your own,” this he said with a more solemn tone, his eyes focusing on the swelling at her ankle. Sighing, he knelt down near the ankle and put a supportive hand under the ankle as he worked his fingers through the laces of her boot, loosening it as far as he could to try and alleviate the pressure.

“This will hurt,” was the only split-second warning she got as he brought his other hand up to her shin and felt along to locate the source of the break. Damn, it started healing already. A sinking feeling took over his stomach as he realized he’d need to break her leg in the same place in order to set it. If he were the one to do it, that is. He’d the supplies to immobilize it correctly at his home, but that was hours away with the burden of another weighing him down. Overhead, lightning rippled across the sky, jumping from cloud to cloud as thunder began to roll through the woods surrounding them. His face was framed in the cool light and, his features appeared more soft and warm, in opposition to his cold and acerbic tone. “Storm will keep going on for a while...And you need at least some sort of medical attention. Understand that I can’t leave you here, but I really shouldn’t be naked for this,” his words were very matter-of-factly delivered, though his last statement seemed as though it was directed at something other than her. What the hell could he have been talking to?

Slipping his arms supportively under her knees and shoulders, Tiriaq planted his feet firmly against the ground and started to stand with a low grunt of effort. “Put your arms around my neck...Otherwise, I’ll get too tired from the walk. My cabin is a few miles from here. Oh, I’m Tiriaq,” he tried to mask the strain in his voice, but a little broke through. Fully grown people weren’t the easiest to carry, though he’d plenty of experience carrying just as heavy and even heavier than her. He'd be quite warm to her, especially considering how recently active he'd been and how he was much, much healthier than her at the moment.

 

[Story]

The girl was starting to look more on edge and fearful than she had just a moment ago. With her expression pinched and face drawn, a pale mask with deep circles forming underneath too wide eyes. Her pupils couldn’t decide if they would retract or dilate and to draw away from it all, she kept shifting her attention around.

“She’s a vampire, I think,” she muttered in response, distracted from her previous musings as he slunk closer and came near enough that she could smell him. Earthy and rich and masculine spice. Underneath the spiked fray of lashes, the dark grey seemed to shift to a wild green, then back again as awareness of his presence wrapped around her and tightened its grip. Cariss swallowed, swiped her tongue over chapped lips. “And twilight isn’t midnight. It’s that time right before it gets dark or something,” she sniped, unable to help herself. Call it nerves.

Or just her shitty personality.

“But I was talking about a book,” she babbled on, more for her own benefit to draw away that a naked man had flounced out of the woods and the leg she didn’t really want to think about. But that’s only because she knew -- she knew and didn’t want to deal with it, at all, even though she knew she had to. “So you’d be Jacob. He’s a werewolf or something. I haven’t really read the books.” She had. She totally had. It wasn’t something she was proud of, but neither was being out here like this.

“Look, I don’t really like authority either, but you have to admit this fucking sucks,” she whispered, then stifled a desperate sound of pain when he started shifting her foot. “Fuck… fuuuccckk…” She gritted her teeth and tried to look anywhere but down with her head moving back and forth. “OK, yeah. Just tell me how bad it is. It’s bad, right? Like I don’t really want to know, right?”

That was all she managed to get out when her next words were nothing from strangled rubbish. She squeezed her eyes shut against the pressure of his hands on her leg, feeling the pain radiate through her leg and bounce up and down to make the rest of her aching body miserable. Her breath escaped in a shuddering whoosh when it simmered back down to a dull, horrible ache that had pricked tears in the corners of her eyes. Her next breath was through her nose, bright eyes staring at him.

“Don’t leave,” she pleaded next, her voice sounding more desperate and scared shitless than she liked it to. She scrambled, ignoring the persistent shots of pain from the leg, until she was sitting upright, her face set in a grimace. Not to mention her throat was closing up and the tears were starting to prick again, something she found by gritting her teeth harder and clenching her jaw. “I don’t know what to do. And you look good naked, if that helps.”

Fighting terror with more fantastic humor. She was wound up tight enough that she might implode, and even though he said that he couldn’t leave her there, she still felt panic crawling around in her ribcage, and it only subsided when she felt the heft of his arms under her, the jerk of pain when he lifted them both off the ground. Obedient, she wound her arms around his neck and pulled herself close to try and alleviate some of her weight. Not that there was much to her. She was about five foot nothing and a relative beanstalk to boot.

“You know, we could… we could find a stick or something and I think.. That’s what I was going to do.. To try and walk. Don’t get me wrong, I like being carried like a princess, but it might be easier to just find me a wizard staff out here,” she offered, fingers twining together at the base of his neck and arms resting across his shoulders. She was trying not to move around too much, either, even with as awkward as this was.

 

[Vekraihr]

She was intriguing, to say the least, and seemed to be caught somewhere between an adrenaline rush and an absolute fever dream. His own warm, green hues were focused and bright as he looked at her pale complexion and the darkness encroaching beneath her eyes. She retorted against his assertion of twilight and he gave a soft laugh and a nod. “You are right. At least your mind is still sharp,” he replied as his eyes searched hers for emotion. All he came back with was fear and nerves.

“If you’ve not read these books, then why do you know so much of them?” he asked as he went about testing the mobility of her leg and the extent of its injury. “Well, to put it politely, you wouldn’t fare very well on your own,” he commented and looked at her with grave concern written on his face. Gangrene was certainly a possibility still and he wondered if she’d have a fever after getting out of the chill of the rain. Then, she pleaded with him as she scrambled up and he attempted to keep her from moving her leg too much, but to no avail. Then, she complimented his nudity and a low, hearty chuckle rumbled from his chest.

“Listen, there is no need to flatter me to take you home. You are injured, I cannot just abandon you like that,” he replied; there was an almost noble air to the way he said this as if he felt it more of an ordained right of his to tend to the things found in the woods as opposed to viewing it as a burden. Once he’d gotten her up into his arms, he realized she didn’t weigh all that much at all, and, with the addition of her holding around his neck, he found his arms easily supporting her weight and he found a comfortable stride which didn’t jostle her much. She pulled herself close to him and his body radiated warmth into her, his skin contrasting heavily against the cool nighttime air.

“Nonsense. You’re in no condition to walk and this way will be faster and easier for us both,” he dismissed her severely, though it was plain to see he said it so out of concern for her well-being. He kept her above his waistline, which was a little more strenuous, considering, but he wished to give her at least a little reprieve from the indignity of the situation. Each step resounded with the crunching of leaves and twigs underfoot, only just now highlighting the fact that he was barefoot. Despite him traveling so often, his feet were not seasoned enough for no pain to be felt from his steps. Howbeit, whatever pain he was feeling was masked underneath a collected, focused visage.

Silence from him punctuated a short pause as each breath of his came with a steady slowness of an outdoorsman with plenty of experience in the uneven terrain. Every movement was met with a counter in his arms, almost instinctual in the way he balanced her against the effects of gravity. However, there were moments where she would bump against him softly or slightly shift in his grasp. “How on earth did you even end up in the woods like this, anyway?” he asked her, eyes focused on the path ahead though his attention had shifted a little in her direction.

He didn’t know why he cared in such a way that made him feel nearly sick to his stomach over her condition. And the spirit within him was as restless as it was attentive. At least the fucker had quieted down, though. He couldn’t help but notice how Coyote was feeling forlorn in a way he’d never experienced before. Typically, he felt mischievous at his worst and never seemed to feel less than indifferent towards something. Tiriaq did not yet understand why but felt as though he should provide succor to this lost wanderer.

 

[Story]

Cariss was typically a misanthrope when it came to anything, especially people. She had embraced it as a nihilist and snarled at anything that liked to challenge her on her general discontentment of … anything. It was why she blamed her heightened state on straight up adrenaline and fear at how fucked her current situation was.

Though that didn’t explain why he smelled so fucking good. Good enough that she fought the impulse to cuddle right up against him and bury her face against the hollow of his throat and breathe him in. See, Cariss wouldn’t call herself any kind of cuddler. Most physical contact, in general, made her uncomfortable in a way that psychologists would want to scrutinize her for. Distractedly, her fingers played against the nape of his neck.

Really, she didn’t realize what she was doing until she felt the push of fox rubbing against her psyche, bringing with it the smell of its musk, of dead things, of a river that was nowhere to be found, of a burning crackle that could have been the flash of lightning in the sky. It rubbed against her as if it were truly under her skin, basking her in its pheromones.

She jerked suddenly in his grasp as a ragged gasp tore through her chest and she pulled her face from where it had pushed against his bare skin, nuzzling him like a kitten (fox) seeking attention.

And she probably smelled like a swamp demon.

Panic wanted to suffocate her, even though just minutes before she had wanted to summon the monster within, knowing that it didn’t really want its host to be mangled and useless in the middle of the forest. Yet for some reason, now that this man was hauling her near dead weight through the woods in absolutely nothing, she was scared for the fox to come back out and for her to lose even more of herself to its suffocating call.

Or maybe she was just scared that it would rip his heart from his chest and eat it. Because it had done that before, by the way. She sometimes had that scenario on repeat in the worst of her nightmares.

Squeezing her eyes shut, she curled her head away from his chest and instead focused on just being her, and the questions that he passed down to her as they walked, “Oh, you know, uh… I thought it was rabbit season.”

Too soon. Her stomach clenched as a reminder that it was too soon.

“Looks like my hike through the wilderness didn’t go as plan. Plus, I was trying to outrun a serial killer,” she joked. Only her voice was flat, forced. It wasn’t really that funny. But what was she supposed to say?

So I don’t know why I’m here. I don’t even know how long it’s been. I guess I just party hard.

Only Cariss didn’t indulge too much, if at all. It fucked with her too much and she was already mentally fucked enough as it was. Couldn’t have him wanting to send her immediately to a mental hospital. In fact, she would prefer to avoid hospitals altogether. She wasn’t exactly the kind of upstanding citizen who could be tagged and put in a database, which is what would happen in a hospital.

That meant something else had to happen to the leg. Really, she should let it come out to deal with that, so she wouldn’t have to.

Shifting into a more comfortable position, she tightened her arms around his neck and tried to squint through the dark and rain. “It’s not far, right? Where you’re taking me?”

 

[Vekraihr]

This girl was in a sorry state indeed. Most he'd found lost had been merely confused and misguided and yet she seemed on the verge of full-blown psychosis, in addition to the fact that she'd consumed raw animals. Fuck, he'd have to get her some medicine to combat parasites, most likely. Or, at the least, get her somewhere she could be treated properly. However, he hadn't the capability of doing so as of yet, considering his current state and their distance from his home. A light shiver ran through him as he felt her fingertips playing against a sensitive portion of his neck, though he did his best to pass it off as the wandering of a mind in a fugue.

Tiriaq was the kind who would have given his shirt from his back if it meant it would warm someone else, though he also had a mischievous jovial side which saw him pulling pranks around the reservation. It was one of the reasons he was made to leave, or so he was led to believe at any rate. There wasn't any chance that he was about to leave her to her fate in the woods, especially not with that bastard Coyote yowling in his mind about her. Though, he pondered as to why Cariss seemed to be simultaneously withdrawn and yet didn't fight being so close to him. Perhaps she bore it out of necessity and nothing more.

His smell was of the woods in which he roamed, earthy, deep, and rich with the accent of masculine musk. Her own smell was less pleasant, though he didn't find it offensive by any means. There were far worse fetors which had assailed his olfactory sense and he was grateful she didn't smell as bad as he'd have expected of someone who'd consumed forest critters as they were found naturally. Coyote even seemed to rather like her smell, seeming as though he was pushing against her through the Native's skin and further warming the flesh thereof. What a weird fucker he was being right now. He usually only enjoyed the company of others insofar as to the entertainment value they could provide.

Without warning, she gasped out and seemed possessed by an urge to rub up against him, making him wonder if perhaps she was feeling too cold. Considering his options, Tiriaq shifted her in his grasp in a manner that would allow her more skin contact with him, careful to not adjust the broken leg too much as he changed the positioning of them. His brow furrowed with concern at this outburst as she seemed to retreat within herself after, only to begin responding to his questions mere seconds later. Evasive as ever were her answers, quite dedicated to her craft, he thought.

"You know, usually we people skin and cook the rabbits before eating them. You should try it sometime," he responded with a soft taunt and he shook his head a little bit. "Well, you should have run harder, because he caught you," his tone was equally as flat as he looked at her, seeming as though he was gazing through her before he broke into a smile and heartily laughed. "I'm sorry...I couldn't resist it. You left it wide open," he apologetically said as his body still softly shuddered from stifled laughter. At least he thought it was funny.

"As I said, it is a few miles from where we were...Since I don't have to stop and track anything, we should be there in about an hour and a half or two...Maybe the rain will do us a favor and let up in the meantime," he sounded doubtful about the rain, though the others were said with a comforting surety as he kept his eyes open to their surroundings. Who knew what would befall them if he fell and broke his leg, too. Coyote growled at that inner monologue as if threatening would somehow keep him more steady. Fuck off, beast, I know how to get around here. "Once we get there...I'll have to take care of some things for you...Hopefully, you will be able to bathe on your own. I will help if I must, but that's rather forward for someone I've just met," he tried to lighten the mood a little further by joking about bathing her. However, he did seem like the type of guy who would do so without any expectation or taking advantage. It would likely seem strange for someone who had every capability to be a horrific son of a bitch to simply behave kindly.

"We still have quite a ways to go, though...You should try and rest...Just lay your head against me and close your eyes..." as he spoke, his voice started to wash over her like warm waves on the beach. His tone was distorted and melodic and she would feel a presence encroaching on her mind, non-threatening in its approach as his irises briefly shimmered with a soft, golden light. This foreign sensation made attempts to numb her from her body and lull her to a blissful rest, free from the trappings of pain and her own mental fracture. Silver Fox, should the spirit be aware, would feel the familiarity of the energy as one belonging to the Coyote she knew long ago. Should Cariss succumb to the slumber which weighed at her lids, she would awaken as his footsteps padded on a wooden floor as he made his way across the covered front porch of his modest cabin home.

Natural-stained hardwoods greeted them, with windows accented by dark-stained timber and the roof was tiered wooden shingles interlocked in a geometric pattern. Facing towards the south off to the right side of the home, an array of solar panels were laid out in a couple of rows. Tiriaq carefully adjusted Cariss’ weight in one arm and rest her on his knee a little so he could open his front door, swinging it inward with a soft ‘creak’.

 

[Story]

I think I started the rain. The thought intruded, blooming through her thoughts with the knowledge of certainty. Maybe she had done it to wash herself free of the forest, though this man didn’t seem to mind so much that she was cuddled up against his chest as if it were her right to do so. His very naked chest, with his very naked body tromping through the woods at night in the rain. Really, the whole situation made her chortle despite herself, the sound surprising her.

Hopefully he thought that she was giggling at his jokes and not at her internal crazy. It wasn’t as if she could tell them the truth and that she was possessed by some sort of evil demon hellbent on taking her body over like a bodysnatcher and discard her to … where? Nothingness? The fox didn’t seem too interested in keeping Cariss around, no matter how hard it tried to convince her to let it in and take over completely. It scared her, made her fight it harder, even though it nagged her constantly that this was natural, this was how it should be, give into it.

Be a monster.

“You know,” she echoed him, voice raspy. “I thought about cooking them beforehand, but they just looked so tasty as they were, that I just couldn’t help myself.” OK, bad line. No matter that her voice was saturated in sarcasm, she still sounded creepy and more than a little crazy to her own ears.

She wondered when he would try and make a call to the local mental ward, because that was about the most logical explanation for her presence and state.She did tense when he spoke about taking care of things for her. Her face craned, looking up at him with a renewed expression of fear.

“No hospitals,” she said immediately, then added. “Please. Just… don’t. I know what has to happen. The leg has to be broken, right? Broken, set, splinted. I… I can walk you through it, pay you, whatever you want. Just.. please no hospitals or anything else.” She swallowed, clinging a little harder, and settled herself back down with her head on his shoulder. “

Maybe I’m the serial killer, she thought darkly to herself, remembering his comment. That’s what she sounded like, anyway, babbling at him about outside involvement. Or back to the crazy person -- she sounded paranoid, and that was actually truthful. Cariss liked living under a rock and off the grid. She’d done enough that she wanted to stay off anything’s radar.

“And uh… no, you don’t have to help with the bath,” she promised, shifting with uneasy embarrassment. “And.. and.. Thank you..” she added, sounding smaller than she had earlier.

Cariss missed the gold of his eyes, but not the probe of the fox again that tried to rise up to the surface to meet the lulling voice that called to it. Her eyes were closed still, leaving only her ears open to the carry of his voice. Her voice murmured at nothing as the tension bled from her again, her arms loosening around his neck to slide against his shoulders. She could almost believe that he rocked her like a baby, when it was really just the sound of his voice that pulled her under.

Even when she woke again, it was a stirring, and she was reluctant to open her eyes and move. Not even when he shifted her weight over to guide them through a door. In fact, the only notification he would be receiving was the fact that her arms wound back around his neck and her face turned to nuzzle into his chest.

 

[Vekraihr]

Truly, the situation couldn’t have been more unusual for him and the reality of it was not lost on him. Why had Coyote taken such an interest in her? The spirit hadn’t divulged any information to him in order to enlighten its desires or inform him of her importance. In addition, this woman who he’d found broken in the woods clung to him with the familiarity of a close friend or romantic interest rather than a stranger. At least his humor seemed to hit the mark as she seemed to chuckle just after. It seemed she’d gotten away with laughing at her own internal dialogue, not that he could have known it, anyway.

Her aversion to hospitals was one he understood; he’d not typically enjoyed going to those breeding grounds of disease and egomania. In fact, he had done so as little as one possibly could have and instead learned to treat most things on his own. “Don’t worry, I don’t like hospitals. I know what to do. I’ve set broken limbs before,” he assured her with a little stroke of his fingers on her shoulders. “You are welcome. I know I don’t have to, just letting you know that if you have any issue, I am available,” he responded as he shook his head a little bit, a small grin on his face.

Tiriaq moved quickly after she had fallen asleep, ensuring when the magic had worn off they would at least be at his cabin. He’d hoped to be able to set her leg while she was under, though she started to stir in his arms as he crossed the threshold with her. As her arms wound around his neck again, he smiled a little bit and his firm chest was pleasantly warm to her face. His fingers lightly caressed her shoulder as he moved into the living room of his home and placed her upon the brown leather sofa which sat atop a deep tan-colored rug. His home seemed to have at least some modern luxuries within; a flat-screen TV atop an entertainment center and a few lamps sat upon the two end tables and on the coffee table. The open floorplan allowed a view of the kitchen, which was rustic in design but furnished with modern appliances of stainless steel.

He lingered as he released her, the Coyote within him urging him to stay close and protect her and he internally grumbled dismissively at the spirit. “I need to get my clothes,” he said to her as he struggled to pull away, even seeming to visibly strain against an unseen force in a nearly unusual way. “Just wait here a moment. I need to think about how I’m going to dull the pain of breaking your leg to set it. I have whiskey,” he informed her, seeming to trail off at the last as he went to his front door and slipped outside. He’d shifted not terribly far from his cabin and thus wouldn’t be gone for too long. Tiriaq broke into a light jog in the direction he’d left his home from before, finding the place where he’d gone through his change and he gathered the pile of clothes and set them on his boots. Holding the bundle, he made quick work of getting back to his porch and he left the damp clothes sitting on the wooden slats, spread flat and his boots were left upside down on two wooden posts specifically made to dry his boots on. Many times it was he had to retrieve them from the rain after Coyote decided to go for a stroll.

He’d walked back through the door, olive tone skin glistening from the moisture of the rain and his verdant eyes scanned the room for just a moment before he sighed quietly. “Allow me to get dressed and then I will attend to you,” he offered before disappearing down a hallway at the other end of the living room from where she had been resting. As he passed the linen closet, he grabbed a plush towel and began to dry himself as he walked into his bedroom in what seemed like a persistent ritual of his. He carefully blotted and wicked the water from his long, toned physique before dropping the cloth to the floor. Once he appeared back in the hallway, he was wearing a pair of jeans and a black t-shirt that hugged close to the cut of his muscles.

“Alright...So, would you like to prepare and then take the bath or do you want to just get the setting out of the way?” he asked while he walked into the kitchen and opened a cabinet, producing a bottle of whiskey and then two glasses from another cabinet.

 

[Story]

Cariss squeezed her eyes closed against the wash of light and the shock of cold from being indoors and out of the rain once they passed over that threshold, bringing her attention back to the fact that she was filthy, wet, and looked like something dredged up from a sewer line somewhere. That they were no longer surrounded by the savagery of the woods and were now surrounded by domesticated sent a wash of self-conscious anxiety through her, intensified as he deposited onto a couch. Now having to leave the safe cocoon of his arms, Cariss shrunk in on herself even while grey eyes took in her surroundings.

Her fingers lifted to scrape the hair from her face and then knifed through it to see how bad the tangles were, grimacing as the ink black locks caught and snagged with her brief comb through. Cariss would have killed for a long, hot shower. Only her throbbing ankle dragged her attention down to her leg that was still bent at an awkward angle, and further down to her swollen ankle. Once again, fear lumped up in her throat as she bent down, feeling the tender area with a wince.

His voice caught her attention again and, looking pasty as a ghost, she watched him with wide eyes as he moved to the door. Guilty, her eyes danced down the front of his torso and landed between his legs, before she coughed and dragged her attention back up to his face with an embarrassed grimace, “Yeah, OK…”

Then she thought about it.

“Were you… were you performing some kind of ritual or…? Why are you naked?” Blunt was sometimes better than trying to be polite and Cariss was mouthier than most. Her patience wasn’t the best either. Now that she was coming more into herself, her curiosity was following, and like a cat (fox) her eyes followed him until he was gone again.

She didn’t even fucking know his name.

But at least he was gone for a bit. Long enough that, careful not to ruin his couch with the forest all over her, she started to laugh her terror out of her system and returned her attention down to her swollen ankle again. Sure, she probably should have tried to drag herself up and hobble to investigate where that whiskey was, but this was pressing on her mind now, and with deft fingers, she unlaced her foot and started the slow wiggle process of removing the boot from her foot.

It hurt. Like, more than she thought it would. Sucking in her breath, she made noises and almost chickened out of just this. Finally, with a curse and closing her eyes, she locked her hands around the boot and … yanked.

The pain made her feel like blackness.

She even screamed out loud, but thankfully he wasn’t back yet to hear that.

Feeling nauseous and hot, she tossed the boot aside and slumped back, panting, with more fear spiraling down in her belly as she struggled to imagine what it was going to feel like when the leg had to be moved and set. And it did, soon, with the fact that her blood circulation was already fucked from the semi-healed injury.

“Fuck me,” she snarled to no one, only to startle when she heard the door open and shut. Shifting upright again, she gave him a pinched look, only to have him wander away again. Now, she tried to rise up, her stubbornness setting in. She didn’t like just sitting around and doing nothing, like some sort of pathetic little idiot.

She wobbled on her good leg as pressure hit her other foot and she forced a smile on her face that wasn’t fooling anyone when he came back into the living room.

“Bath first, with whiskey, thank you,” she rasped, tugging at the edges of the t-shirt that clung to her with water and mud and … other things. “Do you… I mean, fuck, I don’t even know your name.. Unless you told me.. out there, in the woods.." she started, flushing. "But do you have anything I can change into..? I know I’m really gross right now.”

She eye balled the bottle, not the glasses. Yeah, if she was going to deal with the leg breaking and setting thing, she wanted that bottle. “Let’s get this out of the way quick. Uh… where’s your bathroom?”

 

[Vekraihr]

Tiriaq had caught her question before he’d left to retrieve his clothes, but he hadn’t the desire nor the words with which to answer her at the moment. He’d heard her scream, too, as his keen ears picked up on the shriek which pierced through the rain and into the otherwise quiet night. All the forest creatures were roosting, sheltered from the storm and so she was the only living being making noise, other than the trees; and they had help. When he returned, he hastened himself to dress as he had only grown more self-conscious of his condition after her inquisition as to the nature of it. As he came back from his bedroom, he found her standing and he bared his teeth in frustration and gave a low growl, “You shouldn’t be standing. You’ll injure yourself worse.” His voice was stern and almost patriarchal at that moment. Not even her smile dampened the palpable aggravation which was settling into his gaze, his verdant eyes dark with worry.

After he’d come forward with the bottle and two glasses, he could easily see where her attention lay and he shook his head slowly as she made her demands. “Of course. I’m not exactly your size but I don’t think you’ll mind being in one of my shirts,” he said as he pulled the top from the bottle and poured himself a tall glass before tightening the lid. “As a matter of fact, I did,” he stated, not cutting her any sort of leniency for not hearing him, however, he didn’t sound offended, “It’s Tiriaq. You can call me Tir for short if my name is too hard for you. I presume you have a name as well?” He gave a light laugh at himself at that. “Don’t drink too much or you’ll bleed to death. Just enough to numb the senses,” he instructed firmly as he took a swig from his glass. Or, what might have been a chug because she could have sworn he’d filled it nearly to the rim and now barely a shot remained in the glass. And he hadn’t so much as grimaced.

“And, to answer and evade your earlier question, I’d rather not get into why I was naked, but it wasn’t a ritual or anything like that. Let’s just leave it as ‘I like to be closer to nature.’ Yeah, that sounds like a Native thing to do, right?” he joked about the matter as if it were absolutely fucking normal to be out in the goddamn woods in the middle of the night, stark naked. “Anyway, follow me,” he said before just picking her up again and cradling her within his strong arms. Even though he was lean, he certainly was strong and seemed to have much more stamina than his appearance might have betrayed. Carefully, he walked down the hall with her and went to the left at the end, where three doorways met at the end of the hall. Directly forward was his bedroom and to the right was a spare room which he’d been using for storage. Left was a bathroom, which contained a nice stall shower and a large, cast-iron bathtub as well as a dual vanity sink and the other usual bathroom suspects.

“If you’ll wait here, I can bring you something to wear and a towel for after the bath. I have a few different natural soaps, so just find one you like,” he offered as he set her on the wide brim of the bath which supported her rather easily with its width without being uncomfortable. At that, Tiriaq had left her by herself once again, but for a much shorter time as he arrived with a plush towel and a long t-shirt with the faded graphic of a band logo on the front of it. By the font used in the name, it was likely a metal band of some sort. “Hopefully this will be suitable...I don’t really have anything you might be able to wear for your lower half...Just try not to reach up for anything,” he said with a bit of a chuckle, joking mildly at her expense before getting serious once again.

“Listen, you do what you need to in here. And, seriously, I am right out there if you need anything at all. Don’t do something stupid and hurt yourself further. I can only go so far with the medical supplies and training I have,” he warned her and narrowed his eyes on her as if trying to instill rationality into her via some sort of telepathy. His green eyes had at least softened once again by this point and he set the towel and shirt down on the linen rack nearest the bath where she would have the easiest time reaching it. Slowly, he withdrew from the room and began to shut the door, though she wouldn’t hear the click of it shutting fully. Surely, he’d left a sliver open in order for her voice to carry out as she heard his footsteps shuffle down the hall as he went to retrieve his whiskey in order to finish that last little shot.

 

[Story]

Cariss pulled a face at him when he scorned her for wobbling around on one leg and almost sniped right back, but caught herself in a moment of modesty instead. She wasn’t about to bite the hand that had hauled her through the woods. He wasn’t the bad guy here, at least from what she could tell so far, so she could find a little patience. Especially knowing what was to come… what with the leg.

Instead of opening her big fucking mouth, however, Cariss reached out and snatched the bottle when he made the mistake of bringing it too close and unstopered it. While she was tempted to bring it to her lips and chug until she couldn’t see straight, she respected the bottle and flopped back down heavily on the couch and snatched the glass he kept from her as well.

Whiskey, straight up. Mute, she poured the liquid into the glass. Enough for just a shot. But she tossed it back quick and poured another before the first one had a chance to simmer in her belly. Finally, she just held up the bottle and shrugged, “Mind if I just take the bottle?” It made her feel safe, even if it was just the fear crawling through her headspace.

Back to that leg.

It was starting to pulse uncomfortably now that she was becoming more lucid. She was also becoming more aware of her swamp thing state, of the uncomfortable way her clothes were drying against her body, sticking and crusting to her skin. She might ask him to burn the garments and offer to pay for a cleaner to come take care of whatever awful muck she was leaving on his couch.

“Tiriaq, right.” She looked at him, really looked at him. Dark skinned, handsome in a way that made her want to look away in discomfort. There was a familiar prickling just underneath the skin that made her aware that she was finding him attractive - only strangely so. Not in the aloof way she preferred, but like a magnet pull that genuinely had her looking away, lips twisting as she poured herself another shot and downed that one too.

“Marissa,” she lied. It was easy to do it. It was her favorite name to use with strangers and she even had a few IDs with the name Marissa Clark on it. Besides, it wasn’t as if she had any ID on her -- or anything for that matter. “And yeah, I’ll take a shirt. You can probably just burn what I have on, it’s a few degrees of disgusting,” she admitted.

“So you’re a naturalist, right,” she responded, not believing him. But then she had just lied about her name and had joked her way through why she herself had been in the forest like she was because the truth was just that level of nuts.

Then she was back up in his arms without even a chance to protest that she could hobble herself to the bathroom, thank you very much. Though she did stifle a giggle when he suggested that she follow him down the hallway when she was getting princess treatment again.

She took the bottle with her. It hadn’t hit her enough yet and despite his warning, she wanted to be well on her way to shit faced when it came time to dealing with the leg.

Perched up on the edge of the tub, she set the bottle of whiskey down on the floor beside her and bent down. Only one shoe had come off, leaving only the swollen appendage hiding in a sock still. At least the second shoe she jerked off easily, tossing it into the corner as she peeled off the socks next and wiggled her toes with a low groan of satisfaction as fresh air hit her bare skin.

Now the fun part. The tights she wore. Before she wrestled with those, she turned and turned the faucet of the tub, watching as the water poured out. Leaning over, she tested the heat with her fingers, then left it to run. Honestly, though, Cariss would have preferred the shower over the bath, even if it meant sitting down while the spray slapped her in the face.

Grey eyes darted up as he reappeared, carrying a t-shirt with him. Tentatively, she mumbled her next request, “Uh.. boxers maybe? And..”

But she trailed off. She wasn’t going to ask him to help her undress and he was already backing out the door. She watched him leave, then considered herself. It was easy enough to shimmy the tights down her hips by bracing herself against the wall and lifting her ass up, taking the underwear with her. The hard part happened when she hit her thighs and the roll of pain from that leg hit her hard enough to make her head swim.

“Go fuck yourself,” she hissed, then shoved them down in one motion. She couldn’t help the yelp of pain that accompanied the motion, the radiating pain that had her slumping back and almost dunking herself into the bathwater that was running. Biting her lips, she closed her eyes for a moment, then finished gingerly peeling them down the rest of her legs and off her feet.

Swallowing, she still refused to look at the leg, and just quickly shed herself of the shirt and tank, the sports bra under that and tossed them to the floor. With her mangled leg throbbing with pain now that she had aggravated it, Cariss slipped back into the hot bath water and sunk down, eyes closed and hands slapping against her face as she focused on breathing.

 

[Vekraihr]

Tiriaq couldn't help but feel a little suspicious at the name she had given him, though he hadn't any reason to doubt her. He just couldn't quite shake the feeling that she was still being less than forthright with him which was honestly fairly frustrating given that he'd done nothing but lend her aid. Although, he understood her reticence as well and respected her right to disclose whatever she wished to him, ut his demeanor did shift a little towards the suspicious.

He saw an opportunity to defuse some of the tension as she suggested burning her old clothes and he nodded softly, "I will inform my ancestor spirits that my next burning is not to be an offering they should attend, then. I would hate to offend them with the gift." Her scathing sarcasm in response to his evasion of her own question made him feel a little guilty for his lie, but what was he to tell her?

'Hey, I've got an ancient tribal God's spirit inhabiting my body and sometimes I shapeshift into it's preferred beast and go running through the forest for no discernible reason. Oh, and it led me straight to you for whatever reason.'

Yeah, that would blow over really well.

It wasn't easy for him to leave her to her own devices as he had, especially considering the immense pain she had to be experiencing for her to scream as loudly as she had before. However heavy it made his heart, he didn't wish to overstep any boundaries which may or may not have existed in the first place. Though, another yelp of pain made the man stop in his tracks in the middle of the hall as his mind reconsidered his position. The spirit within him also implored him to go tend to her, every instinct of his pushing him towards action, towards aid. Shaking his head as his green hues muddled with his conflicting thoughts, a low growl rumbled in his throat before he spun on his heel and marched back towards the bathroom.

"I'm coming in," a stern warning was all she received as he pushed the door open and strode over to the bath with purpose and intent. Already, the water was muddling with the filth which had clung to her and he furrowed his brow and grumbled, "A shower would have been better." He'd not known that statement would have agreed with her feelings as he moved towards the front of the bath and removed the stopper, beginning to drain the water before he pulled his t-shirt off and threw it to the side. Then, he picked up the towel and t-shirt he had collected for her and put them around his neck in preparation. If there were any complaints from her, he would hear none of it as he scooped his arms down into the water, cradling her legs and back as he lifted her out of the water without a word.

Quickly, he walked towards the glass stall where the overhead shower was installed and he was grateful the floor was tiled and ever so slightly sloped towards the drain in the very center as the filthy runoff from her splattered on the floor. Grabbing the door's handle with his fingertips, Tiriaq carefully pulled it open and then ducked his upper body inside with her and he fought back laughter at the unusual situation he'd put them in. "I will help you wash your lower body if you will take care of the upper half...Use my shoulders with one of your arms to brace yourself so you don't put too much weight on your leg," he instructed as he set her in such a way that the injured leg was on the side closest to him with the shower's controls easily within reach. Nearby, another linen rack sat upon which he placed the shirt and towel and he grabbed one of the more neutral scented soaps he had laying around. It had a nearly floral smell but was still aromatic enough that it should deal with the foulness that clung to her rather well.

He was in a rather odd position, half leaning into the shower in order to brace her weight against him and he briefly considered kneeling but felt he might be too short then to offer the proper support. "I suppose I should have bought you dinner first," he again tried to make light of the situation with a little humor, doing his best not to overtly stare at her nor keep his focus on one part of her anatomy or the other. However, he had to admit that she had an attractive form and a lovely face and the thought made him a little self-conscious of his prior nakedness. Once the shower was started, he would go about moistening his hands and then lathering them thickly with the soap bar before handing it towards her. "Here, I'd use a washcloth but I think it'd be better if I can more accurately control the pressure I put on your leg," he explained for no particular reason as he brought his hands down towards her feet and, with gentle and strong hands, began washing the top of her good foot.

Afterward, he'd move his hands to the foot on the mangled leg and he supported it as best as he could in order to not move her around much as he more carefully washed this one. He figured he'd get this leg out of the way so she would have more time for the pain to ebb. Slowly and methodically he worked his way up her ankle and towards the mangled parts of her legs, distributing pressure and support in the ways which would hurt the least as he muttered under his breath in his native tongue. However, despite his touch, the pain seemed to lessen rather than intensify and she would swear his hands were getting even warmer than the water of the shower. And, something about the way he was muttering sounded so beautiful and melodic, as though he were singing or chanting the phrases. His gaze was cast downward, so she couldn’t see the gentle golden shimmer which began to overtake his eyes as Coyote’s influence ebbed outward. He wasn't healing her, though, rather the illusory magic the spirit bestowed upon him being utilized as a sort of anesthetic by altering the way her nerves were responding.

 

[Story]

Cariss was a liar. She had grown up one, raised to be one, and she liked doing it now more than ever. Lying, thieving, conning, hacking, scamming - none of it equated any kind of responsible or respectable way of living, but the truth was just as filthy as she was right then. No one wanted the real thing understanding; no one wanted Emily - the self she had been born with, discarded in place of a collection of identities that she wore like old, comfortable sweaters.

Cariss Leonie was just her favorite. Marissa was just Basic Bitch enough that she didn’t feel bad about it. Marissa liked craft beer and pumpkin spice lattes. Marissa wasn’t a criminal, but probably had some sort of normal life down in suburban California and had, like, an apartment and paid her bills on time. Cariss felt safe using the name Marissa because it meant that outside of waking up in the middle of a forest, she could be a normal person.

Only as she sunk down into the heat of running bathwater and let the dirt and blood and other things slough off her form until the water was gross with it, she didn’t feel like her Marissa persona. Especially as her own morbid curiosity won out over the climb of fear in her gut and she pulled up that leg from the bathwater, her face blanching as she took in that awkward line it had semi-healed in, off-kilter and bent as a sickening angle. The leg was bottle in bruises, badly swollen. Just looking at it was bringing back a wave of panic that escaped from her mouth in a tiny whimper as her fingers reached out, probing the spots, flinching at how tender it really was.

Fuck, this is going to suck.

Only to be followed by a very audible “fuck” as the door swung open again just moments after he gave a warning that nevertheless had her dipping as low as possible down into the murky water of the bath. Cariss could have sworn the imagery just made her look more like a swamp creature than less.

“Uhm….” Her eyes went a little buggy when he walked over to the bath that she hunkered down in to protect his eyes from having to see her naked. “Maybe?” She had thought a shower would have been better, but here she was now.

Uncertainty crawled across her pinched features at the look on his face. Right before he slid his arms into the water toward her with an intent look on his face. She had time to make a squawking noise in protest before her face froze into a look of shock as strong arms wrenched her right out of the water, ass fucking naked, into what she was now believing to be his favorite move of princess carrying.

“What the fuck, man?” She gasped out, her arms slapping across her bare chest to hide what little she had to show for herself in the tits arena and also curl herself up enough that the only thing visible in the pubic area was a thatch of black that was growing back from the last time she had shaved. Dark hair streamed behind her, but only half of it had been soaked in water, and trailed water on the floor as he moved her from the tub to the shower.

“I’m not a fucking invalid,” she snapped at him once she had been set down, at least partially, by this man. She shrunk away, acutely aware of her own nudity, and by the looks that kept crossing her face, she was trying to figure out the best way to approach this new situation. She hobbled into a standing position against the shower stall on one leg, her body pushed toward the wall, which gave him a new viewpoint of her butt. Unlike the rest of her - skinny, kind of gawky, maybe five feet tall with her shoes on - she at least had an ass worth squeezing.

“I can wash myself,” she complained to the unrelenting motherfucker who looked just as awkward as she most likely looked and definitely felt as he bent over so that hot spray of water from the shower hit his upper torso and streamed down her own figure. Or at least was hitting her back with the way she was huddled, cheeks flaming and looking like she might want to crawl down the drain and die. “And you look fucking ridiculous like that and you should have bought me dinner, yeah,” she formed words in run on sentences, her tongue fumbling over it in a mix of shrill embarrassment and defensive snips as she eyeballed him so close to her gimp leg.

Oh, god, he was going to touch her.

And not just in the carrying around kind of way. She made a strangled noise in her throat when his hands landed on her foot, the good one, eyes closing like the dark would swallow her up now. She was also still trying to preserve her modesty by making sure he couldn’t see her nips or crotch, though as soon as he lifted the limb up, she had to move one arm away from her chest so that she could brace herself with her hand against the shower’s wall. Her eyes popped open after, teeth gritting in a strained grimace as she watched him knead with his lathered up hand.

Only to feel a surge of shameful guilt when it actually felt nice. Even when he shifted over to the bad leg, his kneading fingers, the pressure from his hands, it didn’t feel bad. Enough that she gave a little, even though her awareness remained alert to his proximity. And the naked shower thing. “Fuck,” seemed to be her favorite word. “If you’re going to do that, you may as well just come in here with me. It’s only fair, right? I saw you naked, now you’re getting your revenge,” she stammered out. “Just don’t, like, look at anything, OK?”

She couldn’t imagine that he’d want to, even though now her skin was running clean and the water was no longer tinged with dirt and blood. Her hair was falling in her face, but between having a petrified arm across her chest and the other keeping her upright, she wasn’t about to let go to shift herself into a better position until his hands were done .. doing whatever they were doing to her leg. Instead of pain, she felt warmth, a little pressure, like getting a massage.

Somewhere underneath the skin, the fox was rousing, drawn by the melodic sound of his voice. The pair of eyes that watched him flooded verdant green instead of grey.

 

[Vekraihr]

Her initial protest had been met with a stony silence as he kept his gaze averted from her more breasts and between her legs, trying to convey to her without words that he was there to aid rather than take advantage. Though, she snapped at him once he sat her down and there was a low sigh before he spoke sternly, "Your fucking leg is healed broken. Regardless of whether or not you can stand on it, you shouldn't. Any amount of weight could reintroduce a break or fracture it in different ways which I will struggle worse to deal with. Microfractures are also a risk that I wouldn't even be able to treat and would leave you with a leg aching for months and months. So, please, do me a favor and quit fucking fighting me on this. If I were going to take advantage of you or some shit, don't you think I would have done that in the woods where I could have easily left you for dead with no DNA to trace you to my home?" A part of him understood her mood was largely part to her embarrassment at the situation but he was out of patience for the moment, as his only concern was rendering as much aid as he could.

Tiriaq had always carried a soft spot for the wounded, tending to injured animals and children even when he himself was knee high to a grasshopper. Such was why he studied medicine when he'd gotten older, though his lack of true drive and determination saw him leave before completing his formal education. That, and the academic suspension from the litany of pranks he wrought on his dormitory. However, he'd learned enough to be fairly competent and that was all that mattered out here in the wilderness. Her defensiveness silently offended that caring nature of his, though he did his best to pass it off as the trappings of one who was embarrassed, scared, and confused. However, she seemed to silence when he started to wash her, save for the noise that caught in her throat which briefly made him second guess his actions before he pressed on.

What happened next baffled him even further as she offered to have him climb into the shower with her since he was already washing her. He didn't really understand why she wanted to offer and he continued with that foreign chanting as his face tilted up towards her, meeting her visage without . His chanting trailed as his fingers moved away from her after fully washing over the injured portion of her leg and she saw that very brief shimmer of gold in his eyes before they faded back to their deep green. He rinsed his hands a little and reached up to softly brush back the hair that had fallen in her face, as she was too occupied to do so herself. Hadn't hers been grey before? Perhaps he was imagining things...

His face was a mixture of reserved aggravation at her repeated jabs and compassion for her ailments. His brow was slightly pinched together and his lips were pulled almost into a frown, though he maintained an ever so slight upturn at the corners."I mean, I have to look at some things in order to wash you. But, despite everything, I won't stare luridly if that's what you're worried about," he acquiesced as he flicked his hands a little dry before standing with a soft huff of frustration. Despite what? Was he admitting that he wanted to look? "If I wanted vengeance, I can think of other ways I would punish you rather than giving you a pleasant wash," he added as his fingers moved to his waist and undid the button clasping his jeans together and unzipped them.

With one motion, he pushed both the boxers and the jeans and stood naked before her once again. However, it seemed that-- despite herself feeling unpresentable and his own insistence that he wasn't paying attention to her feminine features-- he'd grown semi-erect in a bit of failure to maintain complete control over himself. His flaccid manhood swayed a bit as he stepped into the shower with her, giving her a look of combined frustration and confusion mixed with compassion. His figure seemed larger now that they were confined in a smaller space, his dense muscles framed in rivulets of water which ran along his smooth, unblemished skin. Had he not been so lithe, there might have been more difficulty in them being in there together.

Taking the soap again, he lathered his hands and knelt back down. "You are a very unusual person...Though, I don't usually like people so that is probably a good thing," he pointed out for no particular reason other than to try and deflate the pregnant pause which had taken hold after he'd climbed into the shower.

He resumed washing at her knee, hand and fingers strong and agile as he seemed to combine both massage and the intent to clean. His touch climbed her thigh slowly, ensuring a thick lather to wash away whatever impurities she might still suffer as he kept his gaze on his hands for the time. His mind threatened to wander, especially given their intimate proximity-- but he chased that thought away and kept a keen focus on the task at hand as he thought to the future pain he would have to inflict on her. Hopefully, she would be drunk enough to attribute what relief he could provide through Coyote as nothing more than the effects of the alcohol or some other means that didn't involve him telling the truth. Coyote, however, continued to flash hints of himself through Tiriaq's eyes; the man didn't realize his eyes were shifting between colors as it was never anything someone had been close enough to witness when the spirit did so. She seemed fond of making extreme jokes and comments and he wondered if perhaps that was the best way he could connect with her. Following that thought process, he tauntingly asked an unexpected and frankly out of character question.

"Would you feel better if I put you against the wall and took you?"

 

[Story]

She didn’t like that he was right about this. While her face screwed up and she tried to glare at him for his words of wisdom, the look held no vindication behind it. She just wanted to pout for the sake of pouting and having a shitty attitude about the whole thing in general, though she did finally relax with her leg in his grasp, using the other one to keep her balanced and leaning against the wall. She was also acutely aware of his touch, how whatever he was doing had taken away the tender pain that jolted through her at the slightest provocation and it now felt like a pressurized massage with his fingers.

It felt nice. It tingled. It made her shift in an uncomfortable way as her awareness shifted to how close his hands were wondering to the apex of her thighs. Discomfort emanated from her being in the form of tensed limbs and stiff posture, of the ruddy red that infused the olive of her skin and the fact that she was chewing at her lips and quivering where she stood with one hand still tight over her chest. She was also refusing to look at him, at all, until she felt a different shift within herself.

The fucking she-bitch (...vix?).

Cariss kept trying to push it down; she wasn’t ready for it to come out. Not until the leg bit was broken again and straightened out. She already knew the fox could heal its host, when it felt like it, and hoped that she wouldn’t have to waddle around with a broken leg that was healing naturally. She could only imagine what this man thought about the leg already being as healed as it was, like this, though the most likely answer was that she had been out there for some time, like some sort of wild fucking animal.

At least she hoped.

“Why are you helping me?” The question sounded harsher than she meant it -- more like a demand than an inquisitive inquiry. Her face flinched, her jaw set, but she didn’t repeat herself. “I could sit down,” she offered instead, some of the defensive attitude leaving her voice. “And then you wouldn’t have to.. Wouldn’t have to..” Look at her. Touch her. Tolerate her really. And yet she had still invited him to hop right into the shower with her.

As much as she had been adamant about him not looking, she was a hypocrite with her own stare wandering to his hands as they undid his pants and dropped them along with the boxers, only to start up his bare torso to look him guiltily in the eye. She swallowed hard when he moved into the shower at her own invitation, shrinking back despite it all, and feeling that much smaller next to his frame that now crowded into the small space with her. But at least the hot water was now getting trapped into the cubicle with them both, creating a steam that fogged up the frosted glass around them.

“You don’t know me,” she pointed out, again flinching at how rude the words came out. This time, she bit down on her own tongue to shush herself from saying anything more.

What the fuck is wrong with you?

Logically, she knew that this man - this stranger - had been nothing but kind to her. All she had been doing in return was making snide comments and snapping at him -- for what? Kicks? This wasn’t one of the assholes that she dealt with in business. This was a guy that was currently kneeling down in a shower with her, washing her. She could at least try and be nice even if anxiety was riding her despite the mellowing effects of the whiskey that was starting to kick in.

The girl was even starting to relax, head tilting into the hot spray so that her hair cascaded down her back in a dark stream, water streaming down her face and torso. Then he asked his question. Cariss couldn’t tell by his tone what he meant by the words, but she stiffened in his grasp again, eyes flashing open - green, then grey again, then back to green until she shut her eyes again and shuddered.

“No, of course not.” Lie. And spoken with a weird, breathy hitch. She could even blame the water, air, anything for the fact that her nipples, still mostly hidden, had hardened, but she had no excuse for the tightening in her belly, the stab of anticipation between her legs.

Don’t be a fucking pervert. Her, not him. He was attractive and they were naked. The only intimacy here was the fact that he was being kind -- weirdly so, in her mind. Probably in a boundary crossing way, considering how they had wound up in here together. And the Fox was especially interested in him, which made her shift awkwardly at the throb that picked up between her legs. Come the fuck on, stahp.

“You know I can just take it from here. Seriously. I’ll sit down and finish washing so you don’t, you know, have to keep doing this,” she blurted out, eyes snapping open as her own self-consciousness won out over how nice it felt to have his hand wandering up and down her leg. Squirming in place, she even tried to slip free of his grasp, only to have the foot that she was balancing on start to slide out from under her. Gasping, she flailed forward, the arm protecting her breasts flinging out to catch him by the shoulder.

 

[Vekraihr]

Tiriaq was unaware of the turmoil going on within Cariss as she wrestled with the kindness that he offered without expectation nor condition. He felt a little relaxation on her part as his fingers worked her over and he let himself smile a little at that. However, he could still sense trepidation from her as he worked his way upwards and he wondered if it was nerves or something else which caused her to quiver so. Silence permeated the next few moments before she spat a question out to him, one which enlightened him much further to the psychology of this young woman. Slowly, it was becoming apparent she suffered from issues of self-worth and it manifested in her sharp, snippy way of communicating.

“Because you needed it,” his answer was blunt and reflected his inner self; truly, he needed nothing from her other than the endorphins released from a good deed performed satisfactorily. “You don’t need to sit...This way I can wash you thoroughly and nothing of what is happening is an imposition,” he explained with the sort of stern tone one might take over someone they were trying to protect. As he stepped in the shower with her, he noted how she shrank from him, and then she spoke in a way that would have provoked a less polite reaction from someone more intolerant. However, he reached up with his clean right hand and braced her right jaw momentarily and thumbed her cheek, “I know. Nor do you know me.” His response was likely much less harsh than she had been expecting, rather he seemed to understand what she was saying despite how poorly she was saying it.

He wasn’t sure if he should feel guilty for enjoying the supple feeling of her flesh beneath his skin. Despite the way he’d found her, she was softer than he’d anticipated and her skin wasn’t so rough or indicative of a terribly long time spent in the wilderness. She had taken care of herself to a fair degree, or at least it would seem as much to him. She was shapely, too, with an ass which nearly beckoned for hands to be laid upon it and appreciated. It seemed she enjoyed being smooth, as her shorter pubic hair informed him. He kept his own trimmed neatly, though none grew so thickly as to mire him in a thick bush.

Her response to his question hadn’t been what he was anticipating at all; she would have played along, surely, he thought. What met him was a lie— simultaneously obvious and blatant— which further perplexed the olive-skinned man. Would it be fair for him to take her in her condition? The answer to that question didn’t matter, as just the feeling of her anticipation, the proximity of her form, and his strange intrigue at her quirky personality were all enough permission his body needed to react. As she squirmed and struggled to rein in her own desire, his own became more apparent as he further stiffened to full mast. He wasn’t small by any means; thicker than the average, perhaps, but halted at around six inches in length.

Then, as she tried to wrench herself from his grasp and sent herself falling, Tiriaq shifted his grasp rapidly and braced her so she would fall no further, especially not onto that damned leg of hers. His eyes slowly trailed up her figure, a lustful hunger building in his verdant hues as he took her in. He’d noticed the way her nipples had stiffened and part of him wondered if it was from her own grasp over them or if she truly was desirous for him as silently communicated. As his eyes met hers, there were little flecks of gold interspersed in those fields of green.“You know, you could sit and finish washing by yourself, but I don’t think you actually mind what I’m doing. You just seem embarrassed to be enjoying it so much. There’s nothing wrong with that and there’s nothing wrong with enjoying when someone’s being kind to you. At least neither is taking advantage of the other, right?” his words were truthful and warm, despite the mildly teasing way in which some of it was said.

Coyote seemed to take a particular interest in this development, too, as he pressed closer towards Cariss and bathed Tiriaq with his musk— smoky and ionic, like the direct spot where lightning had struck and left its scorch, with hints of tobacco, bourbon, and leathers which the trickster endorsed.

The man felt nearly compelled to stand before her, rising his hands along the sides of her body as he did with paintbrush-like strokes of his fingers. “Are you certain the answer is no?” he asked her knowingly, a smoldering heat latent in his tone as he dropped his hands back to her waist and grabbed hold of her. Then, in a simultaneous motion, Tiriaq lifted her off the ground and pressed her back against the wall of the shower booth. His body soon followed suit, pressing towards her as the warm shaft between his legs pressed against her lower stomach. His own anticipation was plain from the rhythmic twitching she’d feel against her skin as he slowly, deliberately lifted her higher, dragging his length towards being betwixt her thighs. However, his pace would give her plenty of time to stop him if she so chose; he’d hoped he’d made it clear enough that she held the authority for the decision, despite his forwardness.

 

[Story]

Cariss was pretty certain she had never been in this situation before, ever. And it was becoming all the more transparent on her face that she wasn’t sure what she was supposed to do or how she was supposed to act around a naked man that she wasn’t naked with to fuck, but whom her body was having mixed feelings about. That by itself was humiliating. The fact that she was even a little turned on by her circumstance. That her pulse was skipping a few beats, that her convulsive swallowing was her mouth going dry because his fingers that kneaded into her skin was making her a little wet.

That she had been standing as still as possible, hunched up against the wall, trying to ignore the reaction and pretending.

Right, which is why she slipped and fell forward trying to get away from him. Her second gasp sounded more strangled as the entirety of her body stiffened in his grasp, though her own hands had curled like a cat’s claws on his shoulders as she had caught herself. Unfortunately, it put him in immediate sight of her breasts. She was probably an A cup, small, with berry dark nipples pebbled. Pushing away from him, she tore her attention away from his face and set her jaw so tightly it could have cracked. Heat flamed across her face, making the blush obvious.

“Stop,” she bit out, even if his explanation and acceptance of her enjoyment was true. She didn’t like being called out. And she was back to folding her arms over her breasts. Without his magic fingers over her leg, she was starting to become aware of a more painful ache that gnashed invisible teeth in her skin until she squirmed with a different kind of discomfort.

Of course, he made it worse. Her skin shuddered underneath his touch as his fingers skimmed up her sides, ending with her harsh shiver. She bit her lower lip, hard, and only whipped her head back around to stare at him when his hands dropped down to her waist and lifted her until most of her weight was held against the shower’s stall. Stress infused with confusion mixed with a tightening in her lower abdomen as she felt him, hard and throbbing, against the soft part of her belly.

“Don’t.” Just one word, but it held a myriad of different things in it. A plead, for starters. A question, for two. Her hands lifted up again, bracing against his chest as a way to both push him away and hold herself. Her mouth was working, her features caving in on its own confusion, until there was just the desperate plea in her stare. “Please,” she added.

Like that had done anything any time before. And she wasn’t even sure if she wanted to fight him on it, though she wouldn’t be able to if she did. What was she going to do? Try and wriggle away and hurt herself worse for it? The other options were to beg, and she had too much pride still to do that. And then there was just to goad him on to do it, which was her usual MO.

But all she could manage to do was stare at him, tensed up and pinned, with her palms flat on his chest.

 

[Vekraihr]

Her petite frame was quite attractive to the man, he had to admit, and his eyes briefly but intently scanned over her, drinking in her features before focusing his gaze on her face. It seemed he was reading her expression, perhaps trying to crack through that seemingly occluding fog which she constantly spewed forth. There certainly were a lot of signals in the air, mixed and muddled without any true intent or clearness behind them. Cariss seemed at odds with herself, as ever, and Tiriaq could almost sense the simultaneous anxiety and anticipation as she postured herself more defensively. However, it was what happened next which stopped the man in his tracks, ceasing all movement as he took in a deep breath.

“As you wish,” the man replied in his warm, bass tone as he began to pull his hips away from her body in order to bring his throbbing manhood out of contact with her skin. Once relieved of him, he gave her a soft, understanding smile as he began to set her down onto the shower floor. He was deliberate about it and kept her weight shifted towards the good leg so that she wouldn’t have to put any pressure on that broken mess.

Once she had a solid grip again, he, for reasons he didn’t quite know, placed a kiss upon the top of her head. It was nearly paternal, as though he was trying to reassure her that he was there to help and protect her. “I apologize if I crossed a line...I genuinely thought that might help you feel less...ill at ease. And, I might be more open about sexuality than others, given how I always seem to find myself naked outside,” his apology seemed heartfelt and his green eyes flashed briefly with mischief as he finished on a lighter note. And, before she could stop him from doing so, he’d knelt back down to continue where he’d left off with washing her thighs. Despite what should have been tension or frustration, his face seemed serene and calm as it had in the moments before. Maybe he was on drugs? That could explain why he was so calm, and why he was naked in the woods.

Coyote wasn’t terribly happy with him, turning away at the last moment from the satisfaction of reuniting with his estranged lover. However, he didn’t communicate as much with him, rather stewing and simmering within the man who felt that presence like an ache in the back of his skull. He didn’t enjoy being denied but held a modicum of respect for the decision not to push his will too far over the frightened and injured young woman his mate currently inhabited. It didn’t stop him from bristling, though. Tiriaq held a suspicion that he would pay for this at a different time.

He’d gone a little faster with the washing this time, wishing to get her cleaned and comfortable so that he could break her leg and have it done. Luckily for her, setting broken bones was something he’d had to do with what should be an alarming frequency for someone who didn’t inhabit a mountainous wilderness. Much as before, if she had protested he wouldn’t hear any of it, seeming content to aid her no matter how intimate the encounter. Steadily, his hands rose upwards until he reached the creases of her ass and mons before lifting his hands away from her and rinsing them of the soap. “I think I should get out, now...I’ll dry myself off and then when you’re ready, I’ll help you out and into some clothes,” he stated as he slowly left the shower, the lingering arousal still fairly apparent on him as he stepped straight onto the tile floor and grabbed the towel he’d intended for her to use.

“I’ll go and get you another one and see if I might have something that’ll fit your lower half,” he said, his frame quite a bit wider than hers but perhaps that prodigious posterior of hers might hold a pair of his boxers on. And, with that, he’d wrapped the towel around himself and departed from the bathroom quite swiftly. A few short moments would pass before he returned with a pair of non-descript black boxers and a similarly fluffy towel to the one which was draped around his muscular form. He’d hoped she’d not managed to injure herself in his absence as he approached the stall.

 

[Story]

The breath she hadn’t realized she had been holding left her in a little shudder when he retreated from her, though her hands lingered against the solid muscle of his chest while the tension drained from her limbs and her features melted into a look of confusion that she quickly tried to soften into a bland expression. It never quite made it that far. She still looked puzzled, mouth gaping like a little guppy fish, as he leaned in and pressed his lips on her forehead and moved away as if nothing out of the ordinary had inspired.

“I didn’t…” She trailed off, voice uneven. It sounded like she was squeaking. Scowling, Cariss cleared her throat and let her hands drop off his wet, naked skin and instead return to cover her breasts, where her nipples poked against her bare arms and color soaked into her skin and shame tightened her stomach. “Do you often.. Uh.. put your hard dick on women in showers without warning, then?” Her voice cracked; she still sounded like she was squeaking even though she tried to be gruff with her words.

And now she wouldn’t look at him again as he dropped back down and picked up where he had left off.

This time, though, she was glad that he was hasty with bathing her lower half, even if her skin rippled and jumped underneath his touch. She even gasped, breath hitching when his fingers slid up her thighs, close to the juncture of her thighs. Despite turning him away from just fucking her up against the wall, it hadn’t taken away from the fact that she hadn’t been unaffected by his attention. She could feel the throb of her clit, the wet that started, the agitating throb that she was willing away.

Cariss tilted her attention back to him once he’d moved away, watching from beneath lowered lashes as he dried himself. Her attention kept slipping, roving over his physique and bolting back up to his face when she felt that her gaze lingered too long.

Then he left her alone again.

The girl sagged back, groaning, and slapped herself on the forehead with the palm of her hand. “Holy fuck balls,” she hissed out and turned into the spray of the water so that her entire body was soaked by the water. Her motions were almost angry as she reached for the soap, lathering herself when she heard him rejoin her in the bathroom.

This time she kept her back turned to him as she held herself up on one foot at she scrubbed herself down with soap and pressed her face up into the shower. She felt it all slough off her, wondering just how long she had been wandering around in the forest. Dirt, residue plant life, blood, other things washed away and leaving scrubbed raw, clean skin underneath. Only when she turned slightly to begin on her hair did she chance a look at him.

“Thanks for the clothes,” she managed, still self-conscious of her own nudity. It was obvious that this man was far more comfortable in his own skin than she ever would be -- and somehow that made her squirm even more as she hurried to rinse herself off and grope to turn off the shower.

Eyes averted, she yanked open the shower’s door and held her hand out for the towel. “I think I can manage myself, probably,” she mumbled, water still streaming off herself as she waited to see if he would let her take the towel from him.

 

[Vekraihr]

The way she allowed her hands to linger against him, the confusion on her face and everything made it a little more difficult than he’d have liked for him to pull away from her. Though, he knew she was in no condition for sex, let alone against the wall of the shower. His own expression was a little conflicted for a while before he finally wiped anything other than a peaceful expression from his face. He found he quite liked her hands on his skin and, though he wouldn’t admit it out loud, would have enjoyed had she let herself linger a little longer.

“No, not often...I find myself magnetically attracted to you, which doesn’t typically happen,” Tiriaq admitted with little hesitation, his tone betraying the slightest hint of embarrassment at his tone. His behavior had been out of character for him, perhaps spurred on by the unusual circumstance in which they’d found themselves meeting or maybe just the unusual gravity she seemed to have over the spirit within him. Despite the cessation of his actions, Tiriaq remained rigid and ready for quite a while after; the twitch of his manhood, the heat in his stomach, and a subconscious awareness that she felt it, too.

There was no small part of him which yearned for her, possibly stemming from the spirit within him which yearned for one in her. Perhaps, had he found her differently...There wasn’t enough time to think of things like that. Entertaining such notions wouldn’t help mend what was broken in her and there was more than just the damage to her physical body. There was obvious mental and emotional scarring, her behavior stemming from abuses unseen and transgressors unknown. Or, at least, that’s what it seemed like. He couldn’t imagine someone behaving the way she had without deep conflict running through them.

When he’d stepped out to dry himself, he did so a little deliberately and in ways which seemed to accentuate the nice parts of his form. Perhaps he’d noticed some of that gaze of hers on him.

At his return, he gave a nod to her thanks and replied simply and genuinely, “Don’t mention it. It’s my pleasure.” Tiriaq still stood with the towel draped only his lower body and there was still a tenting which spoke to the unsatisfied desire which apparently still flamed within him. As she suggested she could dry herself, Tiriaq gave a low chuckle and shook his head. “Well, I think we’re long past the point of reservation and shyness, don’t you?” he said to her as he handed over the towel and started to remove his own towel so he could get quickly dressed. With a bit of deliberateness, he tucked his turgid manhood within the waistband of his boxers in order to keep it at least somewhat hidden— not that it mattered at this point. It took him less than a minute to pull his clothes back on; perhaps he was being honest when he alluded to frequently being naked in the woods.

Despite her averted gaze, he did nothing to hide the obvious way in which he admired her form, slowly dragging his eyes from her feet all the way up to her face as he absently held his breath. Chewing the inside of his own lips out of frustration, Tiriaq helped her get out of the shower stall so she could more easily dry. Her insistence that she could handle it all herself seemed to go largely ignored as Tiriaq stood close and helped support her weight with one of his arms around her waist to keep her well balanced until she was completely dried.

He’d even help her to pull the boxers on, the waistband resting slack around her hips enough that they would sag ever so slightly, but the length of the shirt he’d gotten for her would keep that out of sight anyway. Once she was finished drying and dressing, he knew they shouldn’t waste much more time before getting that leg set properly. “Alright, well, let’s get this business with your leg over with so you can get on the road to proper recovery,” he stated as he wrapped his arms beneath her and lifted her off of the ground again. “This is faster, so don’t argue,” he sternly informed her the moment he began picking her up. With that, he began to carry her back out into the common areas as his face contorted with mild concern for what was to come.

Once back in the living room, he placed her on the couch before he left down the hall to gather the various things he would need to correctly set her leg. Immobilizing splints, a few different lengths of wraps, cotton gauze, medical tape, and some aspirin. He’d rather he had some other anti-coagulant, but a thinner would have to do the trick. Tiriaq returned with these and an interesting looking apparatus whose use would soon become apparent in holding her leg in place while he bound it. “I’ll do everything I can for the pain,” he told her as he set the things down and gathered the whiskey and a glass and poured one more shot for her to chase the painkillers down with.

 

[Story]

Like it or not, his words made the inside of her mouth feel like what the inside of a dryer felt like if the filter were never cleaned out. Or maybe it was the feeling of someone crawling inside the dryer while it was running. She felt too hot, her head was practically spinning, and she wanted to crawl out of her own skin and into his -- if that thought by itself wasn’t horrific to think about. All wrapped up into the fact that her heart was running like a thumper rabbit (not a fox) running in place from the nerves.

Not to mention that she had some visible aid with his cock standing at attention. She was glad to be female, because she could hide her own sexual frustrations by pushing her legs closed and ignoring the heated throb of anticipation. It still didn’t stop the fact that Cariss was very well aware that she was wet from more than just the shower. Wet and achy enough that she could almost draw her attention away from the unpleasant throb of her leg.

She wondered what it would feel like to crawl up his body and skewer herself on his cock.

Her insides clenched thinking about it. Ashamed of her own train of thought, she awkwardly pulled herself from the shower stall and accepted the towel, even though the awareness that he was watching her every move as she dabbed her overly sensitized skin off tweaked the back of her mind enough that she turned so that her back was presented to him and not her dark, erect nipples or thatch of growing pubic hair.

“Are we?” She asked her strained question when he mentioned being past the point of shyness and reservation. The dude may have been comfortable being nude in front of her, but it wasn’t the same for her. Cariss didn’t like being naked in front of anyone, not even her best friend, though the two seemed to share the same careless indifference to being naked. Perhaps she should introduce them.

...If it weren’t for the deep stab of anxiety that came with the thought and the resistance that she felt. It was jealousy, plain and simple, with a deeply ingrained notion of possessiveness at the thought of this fucking stranger even looking at anyone other than her.

The thought shocked her right to the core. Especially since it was against her very nature to feel either of those two things.

Maybe it was his hands on her bare waist that was turning her thoughts to putty. Somehow, Cariss even managed not to squirm back against him as she toweled herself off, though she wasn’t sure if the brush of her bare bottom against his front was deliberate or not. Nor was she ready to admit that she liked the thrill of sensation that rode through her at the fact that she still felt how hard he was.

Instead, she groaned inwardly. Bit her lower lip. Then shivered as his hands skimmed up her legs when he helped slide up the boxers that dipped and slipped around her hips so that her asscrack remained visible before the shirt followed, sliding over hot skin and rubbing distractingly against her hardened nipples.

But at least she was covered. It was something.

She waited to speak again for when she was deposited back on the couch, grey eyes dark as she watched him. She found courage in the fact that her fingers wrapped around the shot of whiskey. “We should probably fuck after all this,” she blurted out, her voice high but not, edged with a joke and yet … not.

So she looked away and tossed back the liquor before she had to explain herself too much, her next voice brisk and tinged with anxiety. “Let’s just get this out of the way. The breaking the leg thing…” Spoken even as her eyes roamed past him to search for the bottle. Cariss leaned over while he was busy with her leg, groping for the whole bottle. She wanted to be completely fucked before he actually snapped the limb back in place.

“Just do it. Don’t count off or warn me, OK? Otherwise I’m gonna pussy out. OK?”

She took the aspirin and swallowed the pills, chasing away the desire that had been building up around him and replacing it with a renewed wash of fear.

 

[Vekraihr]

Tiriaq felt himself try to chuckle at her question, but he didn’t want the poor girl to think he was laughing at her discomfort so he’d managed to stifle it rather well. “I suppose I’m probably bolder than you are, so maybe it’s just me,” he relented with an understanding to his tone as he slightly grinned, not that she would see it with her back turned. Even with her back turned, he found something to enjoy staring at as he felt his gaze repeatedly drawn to leer at her ass. When she’d pressed back against him, she’d feel the evidence of his continuing desire as an unyielding pressure against her rear.

As he helped her into the boxers, he again appreciated the subtle curves of hers and he let his hands linger a little longer than he probably should’ve— but he didn’t care. He wanted her, and in a bad way. He’d lusted for a woman before, he wasn’t a fucking prude, but there was something different about her. He wanted to ravish her completely until neither of them had anything left to give before losing themselves to the exhaustion that followed. He wasn’t sure how much of those thoughts were his own and how much of it was influenced by that damnable canine.

As he was setting up the living room, she eyed him intently before she blurted out something which he’d simultaneously been expecting and was shocked by. “I would feel much better about it after your leg is set,” he replied in an agreeable fashion, his expression not hiding the heat building within when he looked up towards her behind hooded lids. He watched as she groped for the bottle, then resumed setting up the cradle her leg was to be strapped into for what was to come.

“I agree, the sooner we do this the fucking better,” his voice didn’t betray any lack of confidence, but he still seemed a bit nervous. Why the fuck did he feel nervous? He’d done this enough times to know it. But, it would hurt her and something in that thought made him unsettled just the right amount to show in his tone. At her next statement, he merely nodded gruffly as his eyes darkened a little bit. He didn’t enjoy doing this on the best of days and, well, he really liked her— despite her conflicting, combative nature; or, maybe because of it?

The olive-skinned man strode towards the couch and lifted her once again, carrying her over to the floor and placing her with her leg just next to the apparatus and various other medical supplies he’d set out. “Don’t look,” he didn’t ask, his voice was a demand as he wasted no time in searching along her leg once again to find that exact spot where it had healed in all the wrong ways.

If she’d kept her gaze on him, what she would see next would be startling. Suddenly, his eyes flashed golden and his features became slightly more canine, but only briefly. Teeth seemed to sharpen as he bared them and where muscles rest beneath his skin suddenly thickened and become more sinuous as a snarling growl rumbled from his throat as he braced just above the spot which needed to be broken and wrenched her leg with a strength that was surprising. The sickening sound of bone splintering reached his ears and he quickly placed her leg in the cradle. His hand then gripped on her knee nearly uncomfortably tight, keeping her from squirming or thrashing it about as he started to pull his other hand along the shin, making adjustments using his fingers with pressure he shouldn’t have been able to produce with just his hand.

His face looked as it always had with that serene repose about him, but his muscles were still subtly swollen in a manner, unlike his previous physique. Quickly, he grew satisfied with the adjustments and he began to secure her leg in place, strapping it down and then placing the rigid splints, which he’d wrapped in gauze in preparation, in parallel to each other and the broken bone. Wrapping them securely to her, he used two shorter lengths at her ankle and below her knee before he began to wrap the entire length of her shin with the bigger length of bandage. The pressure seemed to help the throbbing ache which she surely felt and, within a few minutes, her leg had been completely wrapped and immobilized, set at a much more correct angle than it had been previously. He’d been more attentive with her than he had with the others, so he would wager he was as close as he could have possibly have gotten to perfect without the use of x-rays and an operating theater.

As he’d finished, he breathed a deep sigh and his muscles seemed to relax into their previous state of being, losing some of the ferocity that took him over in those moments. Reaching next to him, he cracked the chemical vial within the instant icepack and he placed it over the newly broken spot. Instantly, the icy cold penetrated through the layers of bandage and administered another modicum of relief as he began to undo the straps which held her leg in that strange contraption he just seemed to have on hand. “Was that too much?” it was all he wanted to know, a look of concern on his face now as he cast his verdant hues towards hers.

 

[Story]

Cariss hated the taste of whiskey that she poured down her throat once she had snagged the bottle, not trying to be decent with it and pour a glass. She drank it with a grimace, whole swallows that almost had her gagging before she set the thing down and waited for the potent bite to numb her, at the very least, to her rising anxiety. Her earlier drinks were kicking her in the face already, flushing her cheeks and loosening her muscles even as the increasingly familiar feel of his arms lifted her back up and settled her on firmer ground.

She really tried not to look at the thing her leg was in.

Actually, she tried not to look at him at all as the booze made her head swim and soothed the racing of her heart in her chest. It still didn’t stop the fact that her hand lifted, gripping his thigh as he knelt down on the floor where she lay flat on her back. Her fingernails dug into him with fear, jerking once when he did it.A wave of nausea struck first, rolling through her like a black tidal wave that was followed by the acute slice of pain on the footsteps of the sickening sound. Black spots danced before her eyes and Cariss cried out, then moaned, as her body jerked, instinctively, before it rolled over her consciousness completely and swept her away through the worst of it.

...So that the Fox could climb up from the thrashing depths of her unconscious mind, slipping through the red waves of pain to latch onto the consciousness that both it and the girl warred over, even though the Fox insisted time and again that they were one and the same. The presence of the other wrapped itself around the turmoil of the new injury, its presence a thing just underneath the skin.

It called for the Coyote, plain and simple; a silent craving, reaching out subconsciously for the presence that lurked within the man at the girl’s side. Invisible, its claws caressed the Coyote’s presence that spun itself to the surface, urging it forward even beyond the control that Tiriaq had over himself.

For Silverfox wanted its mate.

Green eyes popped open and Cariss opened her mouth in a silent gasp of pain as sweat beaded her forehead. Only the eyes that shifted up and over to meet the golden eyes of the Coyote were those of a true fox, slitted and dilated their verdant green, seeming larger on her face than they were. Inhuman, especially when she smiled, though it was hard to tell whether her teeth were that sharp or if it was just an illusion.

The smell of the woodlands, of running rivers, of a crisp autumn sky infiltrated the room, emanating from her. Then there was dead things, of musk, the smell of fox pelt; the faint scent of flowers and of fire when she sat up, fluidly, and touched the side of his face with a clammy hand. Curled her fingers like a paw and stroked down his cheek, nails scraping, to cup the jut of his chin and drag him down. The smile was almost cruel in its coyness, but her tongue was wet and warm as it traced the edges of his lips.

She punctuated the move with a nip on his lips, then dragged herself back with an inquisitive look to the bound up leg. Both hands ran down the pained limb, where it ached and complained, set and aligned but not healing as rapidly as it had before.

She could fix that. And she did.

Her hands ran down the limb, her growl the only indication that anything was happening underneath the surface of the skin other than the ozone vibrations of power that radiated off her as bone knit and muscle mended like the icy rivulets of a mountain spring chasing the lingering injuries and knitting them back true.

Then she looked back to him - or rather the Coyote, for the Fox had no interest in the man - and sat up straighter, hands moving to press into his chest, to feel for the same, pushing that rush of cold power through his own being to find and repair any damages done to the body her mate inhabited.