Chapter 2: Chapter II

You awoke in the early hours of the morning and collected yourself, your wife was still comatose from last night and wrapped up in enough bundles of skins to completely hide herself from the world. You grin and part enough to see her soft and beautiful face and plant a kiss upon her lips before you clean yourself in the ice cold brook and clothe yourself ready for the hunt. With the girl carrying your scent there is nothing that would dare harm her even if she was foolish enough to leave the camp. Besides, it would take the most impressive human foresters to find the way out of the Deepwood, even this shallow part of it, without you knowing.

Still, a thought nagged at your mind. The village, how would they react to the loss of Astrid? Why would the girl risk so much for a few days worth of food? More importantly, did you care? This was your domain and you had a new wife to tend to. You cast aside such questions for now and moved with productive purpose, to spend the next few days hunting, gathering, crafting seemed a more responsible use of your time.

You collect your blade and bow and stride away from your camp, allowing yourself to be immersed into the wilds. You catch many scents and markings of passage as you glide through the land you knew so well. Even as you held your breath. Stalked through the undergrowth and bushes. Passed over the many fresh and rapid brooks and rivers. Your mind was elsewhere.

You felt young again, like everything was new, as if everything had been changed ever so slightly. Had you truly been so stagnant? You cast your mind back, it's been decades since you have felt the loving touch of another. Lifetimes to a human since you have heard the music of hundreds of your kind. Half forgotten memories of the travelling troupe, of music and performances whispered to your ancient mind but cast quickly away.

Moss parted to reveal rich soil, shallow roots ripped up and discarded, the scent left against a tree. You follow the signs as you slowly stalk through the wood. Passing other lesser offerings as you track your quarry. You find it with others, a dozen or so. Quietly grazing in the shallow wood. You watch the others before moving carefully to allow yourself the best angle.

Your arrow is loose and your target, an old buck, is surely dead before he could take another step but you rush forward regardless as the rest of the herd flee in panic while you ensure the creature suffers not.

It takes time for you to gather sticks and lashings to put together a crude sled to carry your prize back to your lover. The fresh morning gives way to the passage of time over the course of your hunt. It is in the afternoon when you return to your camp. Astrid does not look at you as the woman so wrapped up in skins as to resemble a human sausage simply remains by the softly crackling fire.

Well at least she can maintain a fire unsupervised. You are not wholly sure what you could expect from her. While you have chased mortal maidens and men in your youth with brothers and sisters and cousins you never had never been overly interested in spending much time with them.

You were sure they needed constant food, clean water, and lots of warm furs. Glancing about your encampment you assure yourself that indeed you honestly had everything you needed to keep a human. At the very least you assumed you did. Regardless, that was something new to learn. You could not hide your smile as you tied a lashing around the legs of your buck and hoisted it up into the air with your tree and began to gut the creature collecting some of its blood into a wooden bowl in case you needed it later.

You hear a gasp of shock behind you and turn as Astrid holds a hand over her mouth. Frowning you look back to your butchering. Is something wrong?

“What is wrong my darling?” You call out testing the word upon your lips while you muse and lick some of the blood from your fingers. “Have you never seen an animal prepared to be eaten before?”

“That knife.” you glance at your butchering blade. Made from shallow metals in the ground you sang to the surface and crafted to shape. Cold-forged over days of constant song. You were unsure how humans made metal tools, they likely just dug it up and made a mess.

“What about it?” It was a nice knife, you knew because you were the one that made it lifetimes ago you were a crafts apprentice and that mastery had never faded.

“You cut through bone.” She held a hand to her mouth as you looked back to your butchering.

“It's very sharp.” You agree. As knives ought to be. “Don’t worry about it.” You chastise her as you get back to work. Your body was quickly coated in blood and gore. The butchering blade was indeed incredibly sharp but lost its edge very quickly, by the time you finish this buck it would be dulled to near un-usability. it would take you hours to recover its edge for the next time you would use it. Normally you would neglect it for a more durable tool but you wanted to do this quickly so you had your food stocks secured for the next month.

You considered the girl's reaction, there was no doubt in your mind that a human butchered in the same manner you did, what other way could they do it? Perhaps she was very sheltered. You know that Humans relied heavily on each other for basic needs, had the butchers of her village done their work hidden away from the others to prevent knowledge of butchery from spreading?

In all your centuries of life you had never held such curiosity of mankind. You lick your lips to taste the blood around your mouth. It could not simply be your wife, you had known humans before, centuries ago and then you paid them no mind.

Were you simply bored? It was possible, a good thing that you had a wife to entertain yourself with now. If you co-

CRACK!

You wince and your head snaps about to the sound.

CRACK!

Your wife frowns at you as you snarl into the darkness. No doubt she cannot hear wh-

CRACK!

The whispers from the trees about you. There is no doubt in your mind. An axe is being brought against an ancient tree in the shallow forest. A venerable sentinel awoken to agony and terror.

Your shallow forest.

CRACK!

You grab your weapons and throw yourself into the night ignoring Astrid's questions. You feel the gore dry upon you as your feet fly across the ground, nothing would dare impede your progress. Your eyes dilate to catch the scant light of the night and you feel a blood rage welling up from your thumping heart as the forest cries for aid.

You burst through the treeline into a clearing. The moon glinting from your blade as you watch the huddled figures around a venerable tree carrying lanterns. Another crack causes you to scream in rage drawing the three figures' attention. Armour gleaming in the night. The woman in the back quickly dropped the axe as she spotted your approach. And turning to face you.

Two of them looked related, with soft red hair as was common to the Humans of the region bordering this part of the Deepwood, both clad in iron armour with gambesons of a sort you have never seen before. blades hanging at their hips. The man In the lead held himself higher than his fellow vandals and looked at you with a smug smirk that made you want to cut out his tongue.

You had never seen such a response from humanity, not from a tiny village at the edge of the wood. Something was wrong here but you had to put that aside for now.

“It worked, I was always curious about that.” The presumed twins at the rear gave each other an incredulous look before placing their hands on the pommel of their long blades.

“You will pay for what you have done!” You snap stalking forwards into the light of the lanterns making the accomplices of the lead man wince back in shock at your gory appearance.

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“Yes yes, I will see to it the correct offerings are seen to and the like. You, however, will return the miller's daughter.” The lead man said with confidence that would be ever so pleasurable to beat from the fool before you fed him to the very tree he had defiled.

“How dare you demand anything of me, human! You will beg for forgiveness now!”

“J-just give us the girl you savage!” The redheaded man at the back called out and in response the leader raised a hand.

“I am Felix Valerius, Prefect of Adare. The girl you have taken is my responsibility. I am afraid that if you do not release her into my custody I will have to force the matter.” Your patience ran dry.

“You will die tonight Felix Valerius, Prefect.” You snarl and approach as the two people behind him draw blades and step back. Felix however did not move to contest you nor to hurry away from his doom.

“That might be the case but my death will demand a response, ten thousand men will scour this forest, burn every tree, poison the ground with salt and drive out any malign spirit that dares to resist.” You pause, just a few strides away. There is a quiet moment as you consider just how you could kill this man and any of his promised retribution when he speaks again.

“However I understand that you might need some time to consider your choices, Elf.” He takes a step forward with a smile, one step closer to your blade. “And please understand, while I, deeply, deeply care for this poor miller's daughter.” He smiles as he lies. “I understand if she is not with us anymore it will be impossible for you to return her. But in that tragic case I would ask for only a little favour from you. After I have given the forest the correct offerings for my transgressions here of course.”

You glare at the man before you before cursing under your breath, ensuring that he would have ill fortune for weeks and then spitting the curse upon his face.

“Of course.” You snap. As he squares his jaw and rubs the spit from his face with a sour look.

“Wonderful.” He deadpans. “In that case you can expect the offerings from tomorrow afternoon throughout the rest of the week and I will personally perform the rites to show my deference to your forest.” With his business concluded he turns his back on you and moves to collect a lantern.

“Your first offering.” You lift a hand and point to the woman who held the axe as her eyes go wide. Felix turns to you and then follows your finger.

“Oh...” He looks you in the eyes and sucks at his teeth before shrugging. “Can I have your assurance that she will not be killed?” You glare at the man electing a sigh from him.

“Prefect! You can't do this!” The brother stepped forward with horror on his face.

“Quiet now, remember your place.” Felix looks at you again and sighs. “Very well but this in exchange for the burnt offerings of the livestock.” You sneer but nod your head in ascent.

“This is insane! I won’t allow this!” The man screams at Felix before the Prefect jabs a finger into the chest of the male twin.

“You will remember what you owe. Our dear host of this forest must be respected.” Without another word he takes the sword from the sister and bows his head towards you.

“I will return here when we need to talk, at your discretion of course my lady.” You watch as the twins share one last hug, the brother watching you all the while glaring death at you before they part. It is another awkward silence as you watch the two men depart, the women watching them leave before looking at you trembling.

You glance about but struggle to sense the eyes of spirits and nymphs, it was likely that anyone who had borne witness to this was not foolish enough to incur your wrath. It was an embarrassment to have allowed the two men to depart from the woods. The entire situation was frustrating. You turn to examine your petty prize and find it wanting. This is what passes for a human soldier? You are not impressed with this worm who would dare strike a tree that has seen thousands of seasons pass.

“Strip!” You hiss at the women as you sheathe your sword and clench your fists trying to work out your anger at the entire damn mess. There is a moment where the girl glances around and looks to be considering how far she could make it if she ran before her shoulders slip and she begins to unclasp her armour. Dropping it to the ground.

Once she is in her armour underclothes you step forward and grasp her tunic and with inhuman strength rip the clothes from her form making her shout in surprise and attempt to cover her lightly bound breasts. You pay her no heed as you push her to the ground and rip her clothes from her body and throw them into the pile as you feel the fury in your blood grow.

You hunch over her equipment and call to your bosom untamed energies, not sang to pure purpose but instead infused with your rage allowing you to sap part of your wrath into the spellcraft. She covers her body and shuffles away from you only to watch in horror as you call upon filth and water to slowly turn the brightly polished mail and plate to a pale rusted husk and the cloth to slowly unwind and rot as moss, mushrooms and rot overgrows the pile.

You turn away from the useless armour and clothes and towards the owner. Without a ward you stride over to her and grasp her wrist to drag her to the abused tree. Whatever protests she made fall on deaf ears as you throw her against its marred trunk and grasp a thin sapling from the ground. You cast her against the venerable oak and watch impassively as she stares up like a shocked rabbit.

“Face the tree.” You demand and after looking at you she turns to the tree placing her hands on its trunk before you bring the sapling across her firm ass.

She tenses as you leave a thin red mark on her rear but does not move, you ponder if she will be strong enough to maintain the façade for very long before you strike her again. She shudders but does not make a sound. Soon you fall into a rhythm. Moving from place to place on her perfect pale rear as you lay the sapling upon her. After the eighth strike she lets out a whimper. On the ninth she sobs.

At twenty she falls to the ground, her hands covering her rear and begs you to stop. You waste no time in responding, you hunch over her, pressing your larger from over her and press your hand to her pussy grinding against her clit as your other hand presses her face into the dirt. Making her squeal in humiliation. Her hands fly up to push off the ground and give her face some room. You respond by planting your hand on her red rear and making her squeal in pain and excitement as her arousal coats your fingers.

You relent, not before pressing her arousal to her mouth and making her clean her shame from your fingers. You call a lashing from the tree she abused and it is granted freely. Without bothering to speak to her you pull her arms back and tie them behind her. Before sitting upon one of the great roots of the tree and sighing as you soothe its pain.

“You will understand one day what you did, you will thank me for being so merciful then.” You shift yourself up so you can expose yourself, dropping your bottom wear to the ground at your side as the restrained soldier looks at your impressive cock with wide eyes. Her face was red and blotchy from crying but her tears had dried now.

“Service me.” You command and after a moment of hesitation she moves up to settle herself between your legs and opens her mouth. You calmly put a hand to the back of her head and pull her onto your cock making her gag and try to throw her head back against your inhuman strength. You place your heel into her back as you begin to fuck her face, allowing her at times a moment to take a strangled short breath before blundering her inexperienced throat. Tears steaming freely down her face once more as she struggles to simply endure.

You feel your rage cool as your breath quickens, you press her face against your groin feeling her struggle as her throat convulses to expel your dick. You hear yourself coo softly as you cum down her throat. Thick ropes of aphrodisiac seed filling her belly before you pull back so she can taste it. You let her pull away coughing as your last rope falls on her face and she falls to the ground gasping for air and groaning in discomfort.

You call another lashing and wrap this one around her neck like a leash. Before you pull her to her feet, still coughing as her cunt oozes need. You don’t say another word to the bitch. You turn and walk, so enough so that she does not trip if she pays attention to where her feet land. Feeling her glare against the back of your head.

Good, it would be pathetic if that was all it took to break her.

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