Love and War: Short Story Collection

Rose, Dagger and Fur - Sylvaine 8

Welcoming the Year 1233 Derean

Hariva stood in front of the pyre, naked and unafraid. She waited for the moon to reach its peak, marking the New Derean Year. A rose was stuck in her hair, thorns and all. Her temple bled, but she didn’t care. She expected more bleeding to occur.

Every new year, a woman was sacrificed to the large animal who had been pillaging the village. It looked like a wild bear, they said, but it was definitely supernatural. For some reason, it seemed to stop attacking the village people as soon as it had its fill on a virgin. Once a sacrifice was made, the rest of the year would be quiet and safe for everyone else.

The air was cold and crisp, making her n*****s hard. However, Hariva herself was hard, not just the planes of her body, a stark contrast to the soft swells of her breasts, but also deep inside. For the first time, the village sent a warrior. The only reason she was still a virgin was that she had devoted her twenty-five summers to preparing for all kinds of battle, including this one. Men also feared her after she had stabbed one who had attempted to rape her while he thought she slept. She was only nineteen summers then.

“If anyone can kill this beast, it would be you,” Atrishka the Elder rasped. With her bony hands, she held Hariva’s own as if for protection or to signify comfort. Orphaned at the age of six, Hariva had long discarded the need for any kind of human feeling. She only knew anger and determination. It kept her fed throughout her life as she hunted her own food. She did have Atrishka to thank for the earlier years of her life.

“I will bring you his head. If I don’t, I will have to kill myself.”

“He will kill you, Hariva,” the Elder reminded her. “There’s no need for you to kill yourself after he had flayed you to death and eaten every part of you, including your heart.”

Hariva had never ever considered any other human or creature killing her. She had always imagined that she would do it on her own terms. Suicide. Old age. These kinds of endings were what always flashed in her mind whenever she thought of death. She had never known defeat.

“It will not kill me. I can feel it. I am not a Seer like you, but I can see it, almost taste it. The blood in my mouth doesn’t taste like mine during my visions. It must be his,” the young woman licked her lips for emphasis.

“Still, caution, my love.”

“What do you see, then?” Hariva asked the Seer, eager to find anything she could use to her advantage. Even the knowledge of her death could help. What manner of death awaited her? What animal would be lunging at her as the Derean New Year arrives?

“I hear growling and the sound of heavy feet walking toward you in the pyre. It does not fear fire, but it will pause as it sees it. The dancing flames may distract it, but in the end, it will want you. Many say the beast ravishes the sacrifices before eating them.”

“It’s the same animal throughout the centuries?” Hariva frowned, not quite believing all the stories. Not every part of them, anyway. She was sure that many of the stories were exaggerated because nobody had seen the beast and lived to tell about it. Nevertheless, she knew that many families had lost their daughters every Derean New Year. Blood often remained spattered on the rocks surrounding the pyre. Through the blood, the Seers saw and heard the screaming maidens. There was also growling from a beast, but nobody had seen the monster itself.

The stories had been frightening, but Hariva was confident that she would be able to defeat whatever animal or monster would come for her. She was ready for him with her dagger in hand.

It wasn’t an ordinary dagger. The Elders had spelled it to be quicker and more precise, hitting its target with more ease. Of course, it needed a brave warrior, someone who could also serve as bait.

Not everyone was happy about it. One of the male warriors felt offended that they were not consulted.

“If Hariva fails, the beast will attack the village, anyway. Why can’t we just hunt it? Better yet, why can’t we stay in the shadows and pounce on it as soon as comes for her?”

“Young man,” Atrishka had said. “You may be stronger and more skilled, as you imply, but the beast will smell your blood at a distance. It will know that a number of people are waiting for him. He can turn around and go for the village straight away and what defense do the villagers get if you were not there?”

The explanation seemed sound, and it helped boosted Marek’s ego. He would defend the village instead, he had muttered, but he was no longer argumentative. He did eye Hariva thoughtfully.

“If you survive the attack, I would like to marry you.”

Hariva bristled at that, and the way Marek ogled her body, which was covered with a dress made of fur. Why did he get to decide what happens to her? She was going on as a warrior and not as a damsel in distress. Even though she would act as bait, she would also fight on her own terms.

These events, however, had led to that night with Hariva standing by the pyre, naked. The Elders had wanted her to dress in a white sheath, a symbol of purity. They wanted to protect her body from anyone else’s prying eyes, but she had her own reasons.

“I will be naked before him. This way, I could fight more easily. He would also see me as vulnerable, smell me better from far away.”

Atrishka at least adorned her hair with roses. The Elder claimed that they could go both ways. They had been soaked in magical poison. If things got bloody and everything painful, Hariva could eat the petals and die a quicker death. On the other hand, she could shove some into the beast’s mouth and he would die. That meant, though, that she had gotten too close and would be possibly wounded.

“I will do what I can,” the young woman had said.

Two hours before midnight, before the clanging of bells in the village to signal the beginning of a new year, she waited. At first, she was alone in the darkness only penetrated by the small bit of fire that danced around her legs. She was alone in the cold, goosebumps populating her body.

Then, she heard it. It was the sound of something heavy thundering on the ground. It seemed to be racing toward her at full speed, coming from a deeper section of the forest. In the clearing where she stood, she was easy prey. She was an offering. A part of her wondered why she was insane enough to volunteer herself.

As the beast came closer, she smelled him. She wondered why he didn’t smell like an ordinary beast. He smelled like a man, of sweat and musk. Strangely, she also detected desire. How she managed to do that, she didn’t know.

When the beast was only a few feet away, she gasped at the sight. He was beautiful, with thick, brown fur covering his whole body. They were right, and yet not quite. Most suspected a large animal, and he was. The large bear that stood before her was an animal. Most thought he was going to be ugly and frightening, but somehow he wasn’t. Still, she gripped her dagger tightly, ready for the onslaught. She might not like it, but she needed to kill the beast.

Instead of lunging at her, he pressed closer. His nose was moving, as if sniffing her. He circled the pyre, glancing at her at each turn as if studying her.

“What do you want?” she asked, trying to be brave.

He huffed and growled. Hariva wondered why she was expecting a human voice. Certainly there should be something supernatural about him, or he would continue attacking the village after taking the annual sacrifice. He operated with some kind of intelligence, she was sure.

“Come and get me! Eat me now if you need to, or we can talk about the terms.”

“The terms. That’s new,” the voice said. “What terms would I like to discuss with the humans who had been making up lies about what’s been going on in the village?”

“Kill me, then, and stop it all,” Hariva goaded, trying to get him to come closer.

The bear did, but not before it stood at its full height, which was a couple of feet taller than Hariva. She tried to stifle a gasp but it went out of her mouth, anyway. Then, he lunged at her. She was ready, her dagger digging into his side. He howled, his voice all too human, but he pawed at her until she fell to her back. The claws would leave marks on her body. If she survived, she would have patterns added to her tattoos.

“I’m not a killer,” he growled. “I’m not.”

“Then, why are you pawing at me, beast?”

The bear was on her, but he felt like he was shrinking. Becoming smaller. Changing into something else.

Right on top of Hariva, with his arms carrying his weight, was a naked man and he was beautiful. He was a large man, with black hair and muscles that could wring the life of anyone with just one twist of an arm.

Hariva was entranced, and more than a little seduced. Once she realized what exactly was happening, she kicked him in the belly even though she knew it would be more effective to go lower right where his heavy c**k was.

The shifter didn’t even budge. She almost expected that he would ravish her, but he just looked her in the eyes. Then, he stood up. He looked majestic standing over her as she lay by the pyre, with her elbows supporting her as she tried to rise. Everything was painful.

“I never killed those women,” he said, simply watching her as he rose to her feet.

“How can I be sure of that?”

It was strange talking to the beast turned man while both of them were bloody. There was blood trickling down his side, while her arms were full of scratches. They stung just a little more than the thorns on her head.

“I could have easily killed you while you were on your back. I could have easily ravished you, but I’m not that sort of man.”

“What sort of man are you?”

“A hunted shifter. A haunted man. A witness to the depravity of your men.”

“Our men?” Hariva echoed.

“Yes. Every year, they know a woman would be left as a sacrifice here. I admit that my ancestors have been guilty of taking those women until everyone of them died two decades ago. They had left me on my own here in the forests. I was only twelve summers then.”

“Our village men have been killing women. Why?”

“Lust. It was easy to cover up the rapes that way.”

“The growls the Seers heard?”

“The men and the beasts that they tie up, reluctant witnesses to their lust.”

“If you are certain about this, I will kill them myself. I had vowed to kill myself if I can’t kill you, but perhaps spilling their blood and end it all will be the answer.”

“Y-your head. It’s bleeding. Let me take those roses from your hair. Let me get some of those petals.”

“N-no!” Hariva pushed him away, but he quickly took some and shove it in his mouth. When he saw his throat bob as the petals go down, she was filled with despair.

“I’m off to the forest. Go home, warrior woman.”

“No. Stay with me,” she begged, hoping that he would be alright. So, he ran after him and then jumped to reach his face and pull it down to hers. “Let me kiss you, and let’s die together.”

He chuckled, but gave in to the kiss.

“I won’t die. The spelled roses aren’t meant to kill me. I’ve smelled it. It’s meant to make me more human, let me control my shifts better.”

“You knew?”

“Your Elder suspected, and she had approached me the week before. She wants you to hear it from my lips - that -.”

Hariva somehow already knew everything. Atrishka had found out who had been responsible for the rapes and wanted her to know everything and to know this accused man better. So, she grabbed him again. This time, the kiss was more passionate. It was rough. But Hariva was a warrior, and it was a deflowering she deserved, with a large man between her legs,pounding mercilessly as he ate her little by little through nipping her neck, suckling her breasts, and licking away the blood from her thighs after they were done.

As the bells clang in the village, a few kilometers away from the clearing they were in, they made love again. Slowly, this time. He worshipped her body, and she didn’t even know his name yet. His tongue lingered on a n****e as he thrust into her languidly at first. Then, faster, until she felt the pressure in her belly building again. When she screamed in the early morning hours, it wasn’t because of fear. It was ecstasy.

“My name is Utred,” he finally said, after he came inside of her, as he slumped on her body and licked her scratches until they almost completely disappeared.

When dawn broke, the two had somehow found clothes to wear. The white sheath seemed ironic on her, but she wore it anyway. He went to his hut to dress. Then, they headed for the town. Hariva thought that the war would end with one or both of them dying in the woods, but she found a different kind of death. Another war would begin, however, as she and Utred prepared to fight men like Marek, the real monsters in the story.

Author Page: Sylvaine Eight Writer

Author Group (with 7 other writers): Scribble Nook

Author Works:

Dreame

The Royal Witch

The Royal Flower

The Royal Wolf and Hades’ Daughter

Tourniquet (heading for a*****n after completion)

Judgment in Glass

Scent of a Rogue

Dance of the Mermaids

Fairy Tale Junction (heading for a*****n after completion)

Sea Myths

Figure eight

Ama.zon

Firebird

Lullaby

A Kingdom of the Senses (December 2022 or January 2023)