by Kracken
Shakra snarled. “If you've hurt him-”
“Hurt my own brother?” Kiva chuckled nastily. “You should shut your mouth, dog, before I take off your head to stop your stupid tongue. He's King Katze’s now. He'll already have lifted his tail for him and joined his Clan again. Katze can be very... persuasive.” He said the last in a nasty, suggestive tone.
“Tamarind is my mate!” Shakra snarled and tried a desperate buck to get free of the werelion. It was a useless move.
The fanged mouth grinned. “Really? I suppose he would have to be. Do you know what would happen if Tamarind mated you?”
Shakra was dominant. It wasn't something that he had really considered, but he was certain that Tamarind wouldn't hurt him, no matter what they did together. He was ready to close his ears to this werelion, knowing that he was only being taunted, but he wasn't prepared for the large jaws closing on his neck and the clawed hands jerking him into a mating position. The werelion was impossibly large and powerful, fangs and claws meant for ripping and tearing flesh. His muscles were meant for bringing down large prey and Shakra remembered Tamarind's easy grace, his impossible leaps, and his ability to bring down even a large prey with ease.
“Should I continue, or are you smart enough to see?” the werelion growled.
Shakra panted. “Why...”
“To show you that you are too different,” Kiva told him. “To show you that you are a puppy in the jaws of a beast that can crush you without realizing it. Werelions mate with claw and tooth and instinct, not the cultured niceties of ritual and civilization. Tamarind will kill you, eventually, when he forgets that a werewolf is fragile and no match for one of our kind. He has a future with Katze, a place in the new empire. He will be a prince among the clans. His concern for you will only get him killed.”
The large body flipped Shakra easily and pinned him while Kiva tied him with rope. He found himself looking up at a young, but almost full sized werelion. Shakra's tail tucked between his legs without his conscious thought and Shakra's ears went back in fear. Mordara had been an impressive creature, but this beast, with its full mane, seemed even larger and more capable of killing.
“I have been ordered to bring you alive,” Kiva told him, jaws inches from Shakra's face, “but I warn you to reject Tamarind when you see him next. Give him nothing to turn him from the path he must walk. What's between you will never work. A werelion and a dog can't mate.”
Shakra snarled, “I am a werewolf!”
“There's a difference?” Kiva chuckled.
Shakra showed his teeth and met Kiva's eyes defiantly. “You will find out that there is.”
“You will not bring Tamarind to his death,” Kiva warned him, “but you will bring about your own if you don't do as you are told.”
There was a roar of anger and another werelion came from the darkness. Tamarind was a whirlwind as he savaged Kiva, short mane bristled and silver eyes wild with desperation. He didn't stay within Kiva's reach but missed a powerful swipe of claws and sprang back with teeth barred and ready to protect Shakra.
“You're being stupid,” Kiva warned him. “I don't know how you escaped Katze and his males, but I'm sure they are hot on your trail. You're going to die for this dog. Come to your senses!”
“I have,” Tamarind told him as he planted himself firmly in front of Shakra. “I've decided to be where I am loved and where I am free.”
“You're the mad!” Kiva hissed. “I know where your friends den. I will bring the others and they will separate you from your dog prince.”
Kiva was gone between one flicker of shadow and the next. Breathing hard, Tamarind crouched and spat, “He was always the coward.”
Tamarind untied Shakra and licked his face, nuzzling him and lying very close. “I am a creature of the Savannah, not the forests, but this can't be my home, not while Katze rules.”
Shakra kissed him deeply and then rose, ignoring cuts and bruises and a leg that had folded awkwardly when Kiva had pounced onto him. “Your home is with me, Tamarind, as mine is with you.” And then the wind shifted and he caught the musky scent of a male’s release on Tamarind.
Shakra wasn't sure what happened, except that he was suddenly on Tamarind, eyes blazing, hands and nose searching, trying to memorize and identify that trespassing odor that marked his mate as he prepared to erase it in the only way that he knew how. The clawed hand slamming into his face brought him back to his senses.
Shakra had been thrown down and Tamarind was following, face in his and seething. “Yes, he marked me, but that was all!” Tamarind snarled. “Shall I remark you because Kiva's scent is on your back?”
Shakra's head was reeling. He touched his cheek, came away with blood and the sting of scratches, and then took a steadying breath as he regained control. His nose was still filled with enemy, but he backed away and hung his head, blood throbbing in his veins with anger. “I'm going to kill him,” he promised, “for touching you.”
Tamarind showed his fangs, half humor, half despair, “We'd die together, because I want to kill him too and I know that neither of us are strong enough. I was lucky that some of the females were eager to try and please a prince, and did as I told them, or I wouldn't have gotten away. Katze is... very strong and he is undeniably their king.”
“We have to get back,” Shakra said as he shook his head to clear it. “We have to leave here.”
“Too late for that,” Mordara's voice purred as her stripes suddenly separated from the shadows. “This was so much easier than I expected.” Her tail lashed as she approached.
“Not so easy,” Shang said. “I came to see why it was taking my Prince so long when water was such a short distance away.”
Mordara laughed. “Will you fight me, lizard?”
Shang's crest rose and rattled. He drew his blades. Without looking at Shakra, he told him, “Go, my Prince. I will hold her here until I defeat her or at least cause her difficulty before I die.”
“No,” Tamarind replied.
“No,” Shakra agreed. “We will fight her together, my werelizard.”
Shang looked annoyed, but then he snorted, amused. “Now you choose to act like a prince.”
Mordara flicked her tail and her ears went back. “There is only one were that I am required to bring back. Leave him to me and you may live.”
Shang sneered and asked tauntingly, “Are you afraid of us Mordara?”
“I think that she is shy of getting her face scratched,” Tamarind growled.
“What do you hope to gain?” Mordara wondered angrily. “You will die before you ever leave the plains.”
“I won't serve someone like Katze,” Tamarind shot back. “I won't help destroy our way of life. I won't help attack and conquer the weres around us. The clans belong on the Savannah.”
“Are we invited to this party?” Lormar asked as he padded out of the darkness with Kyrill at his side. “We wondered what was keeping you.”
Kyrill's ruff was bristled, his long ears erect and forward. “You are outnumbered. I suggest that you leave.”
Mordara's tail lashed again. “It's true that I don't relish getting marked, but are you seriously suggesting that even your number is a match for me?”
Shang began to advance. “We will see.”
Mordara leapt without warning. Shang ducked under claws and brought his weapons up, slashing at her underbelly. She twisted aside just in time, but Tamarind was leaping as well. He latched onto her head with all of his claws and sank jaws into her neck. Her skin was loose, though, and her fur thick. She tossed Tamarind aside as if he was a kitten and he landed hard. Shakra was there to protect him before she could press her advantage, and Lormar attacked her from the side, while Shang regrouped and came at her from behind.
“Die mountain dog!” Mordara shrieked as her razor sharp claws raked Lormar and sent him flying in a splatter of blood.
“Love!” Kyrill shouted in horror and then he was furious. He leapt onto Mordara's back and clamped jaw
s on her spine. His surprise move was more than enough to throw Mordara off balance and send her to the ground. She began to twist around to reach him, though, and he was seconds from meeting a very messy end.
Shakra was on her instantly, ignoring fangs and claws to save his friend. He felt his skin raked, and felt her hot breath as she opened her mouth to snap him in two, but Shakra found her soft juggler and clamped down on it with his jaws. Holding her, Shang was able to finish her with his knives, stabbing down into her heart between werewolf and werefox.
They all lay still, then, panting, as Mordara died, terrified to let go and too terrified to believe in that death. A tongue licked Shakra's face and a cheek rubbed against his own. “Let go, Shakra,” Tamarind urged. “It's over.”
Shakra's vision cleared and he rolled his eyes to see his mate. Slowly, his jaws aching from the pressure he had exerted, he let Mordara go, her blood hot on his tongue. He spat it out and felt ill. Tamarind tugged at him and made him step away. Kyrill was already leaping off and seeing to Lormar, who was sitting up and hissing at the claw wounds marring his skin.
“We won, but now we have wounded,” Shang said in trepidation. “We need to leave the Savannah before others come.”
Tamarind looked pained, but he was nodding. “They will come quickly.”
“I can travel,” Lormar grumbled as he slowly rose to his feet.
Shakra grimaced as he rose too, feeling the stabbing pain of wounds. He wasn't so certain about his own ability to travel. Wounded and facing a climb over mountain heights yet again, he wondered if he would live to see the other side. He said, making a sudden decision, “We're not going home. Kyrill, will we be welcome in your land?”
“As friends of mine? Of course!” Kyrill exclaimed, dancing in place with nervous excitement and his tail bristling. “It will be so much easier and a much shorter journey.”
“It may be what they least expect as well,” Shang said thoughtfully.
“They wouldn't dare attack my people,” Kyrill said with confidence. “The desert tribes are strong and cunning.”
Tamarind made a face. “My people have a dislike for endless sand and rock.”
Kyrill looked reproving. “It's so much more than that, Tamarind. My tribe lives near a broad river. There is green, fish, deer, goats, and palms aplenty for shade. Perhaps we don't have grasslands, but it has comforts all the same.”
Lormar was frowning. “There is a desert between us and that river,” he pointed out.
Kyrill grinned and nuzzled him. “I know the way through it. Don't be frightened.”
Tamarind sighed, but then looked resigned. “I will go to your home, Kyrill. If everyone else is in agreement, we should leave now.”
Shang looked pleased, but Shakra supposed sun baked rocks and sand would appeal to the werelizard. As he and Tamarind wrapped his wounds with what scraps they had, he said, “I don't require that anyone follow Tamarind and I. You can return home.”
Shang's crest rattled in anger. “You insult me and our friendship by suggesting such a thing.”
“Maybe I'm tired of cold and mountains,” Lormar said. “I think I would like to warm myself in new lands. Besides, I have an interest in sleek, tan werefoxes with big ears.”
Kyrill laughed and his earrings tinkled together. He let Lormar lean on him as he took the lead.
Shang and Tamarind helped Shakra, even though he tried to shrug them off and walk on his own. Tamarind's strength was more than enough for the task, though, and speed was important. He subsided and allowed the help, calming his male pride in favor of survival.
Behind them carrion birds began to settle on the body of the fallen weretigress.
Chapter Sixteen
It wasn't easy traveling the desert. The heat and the ever blowing sand made landmarks impossible. Kyrill seemed to have an ability to scent his home, though. A questing nose was always in the air and a smile was ever present on his face as he took the lead, his tail ring glinting in the sun. Lormar and Shakra were at their center, limping and wounded, yet determined to keep a fast pace for their lives sake. Tamarind and Shang helped them, but there was only so much they could do in a wasteland of sand.
Tamarind's ears were down a great deal of the time. “I hate sand,” he mumbled more than once. His short mane was full of it and he hated having his tail drag through it. He had annoyed everyone the first few miles, by continuously trying to dislodge sand from between his toes.
“Too hot,” Shang declared near mid-day and simply stopped, crest down and eyes hooded with weariness.
There wasn't an argument. They could pant and get rid of their heat, but Shang didn't have that luxury. He buried himself in the sand on the lee of a sand dune and only his crest was visible. The others were left to bake without any shade. They sat in misery, until the sun began to slant down towards evening. Only then would Shang emerge and travel again.
“He's going to do the same thing when night falls and it grows cold,” Kyrill warned. “We have to keep moving.”
“We can keep him warm,” Shakra replied. “I'm not sure if his pride will suffer it, though.”
Shang glared. “Pride has no place where necessity reigns.”
Lormar snorted. “Meaning, you'll do what it takes, werelizard?”
Shang nodded.
“Good,” Kyrill said in relief. “There is water after another day of travel, and my people beyond that.”
Lormar suddenly scented and everyone looked at him, puzzled. He grinned like a true wolf. “It's only the prospect of seeing so many werefoxes with tail rings, earrings, and tattoos.”
Kyrill bristled. “My people are beautiful, but remember,” he warned. “I am your mate.”
Lormar grinned and licked one of Kyrill's long ears. “No other,” he promised. Kyrill made a small sound of pleasure and smiled as Lormar continued to lick. Their scents grew heavy on the air. Kyrill nuzzled Lormar and his tail flicked and twitched upwards as if of its own accord. Lormar suddenly shivered all over and began to take hold of Kyrill by his ruff. He started and yelped when a reptilian fist connected sharply with his nose. It wasn't hard, but it was enough to get his full attention.
Shang glared. “Don't any of you practice self-control?”
Lormar glared back, but he was backing away from Kyrill, who was looking disappointed, his ears drooping. “You're young too,” Lormar pointed out. “Your self-control comes only from being alone.”
Shang looked angry, but then uncertain when Kyrill said thoughtfully, “There are werelizards among my people. They're sand colored, have dark stripes, and they're smaller than you are.”
“Sand lizards,” Shang replied derisively. “They are not werelizards.”
“I think they would argue that,” Kyrill warned. “They offend very easily.”
Shakra was battling the scent of sex in the air and he could see Tamarind looking just as uncomfortable. “Enough!” he growled. “We need to walk, not sit and talk about mating.”
“You're right,” Kyrill agreed and began to lead them again.
“I wish we had time,” Tamarind sighed under his breath.
Shakra nuzzled Tamarind and sighed as well. “So do I, love. We will have time, once we reach Kyrill's people.”
Tamarind shook sand out of his toes with a grimace. “He promised no sand.”
“Some sand,” Kyrill amended, his long ears catching their conversation. “There is more rock, though, and a wide riverbank.”
“A perfect place for sand lizards,” Shang grumbled and Shakra gave him a surprised look.
“Have you ever seen one?” he asked.
“No,” Shang admitted. “But my people do not associate with them. They are primitive, uncultured, undisciplined.”
“Fun and carefree?” Lormar wondered with a snort of amusement, “instead of sour faced and arrogant?”
“I've heard that they have no honor,” Shang replied as if that were enough to turn every mind against them.
Lormar blinked
. “I suppose we'll know what they're like once we see one.”
“I think you will be surprised,” Kyrill interjected, but didn't elaborate.
The desert was harsh, but true to Kyrill's word, he knew where water was to be found and the easier paths through it. At night they walked as close as possible to Shang, warming him, but during the day, after a certain time, he was forced to burrow and escape the intense heat.
Lormar snorted.
“What's wrong?” Kyrill asked anxiously, looking back over his waving tail.
“If you continue to do that, I'm won't be able to control myself much longer,” Lormar warned him. “I don't think that would make a good first impression on your people.”
Kyrill looked about them. “Do you sense something?”
“I have eyes,” Lormar replied with a chuckle. “They are forgetting to hide their large ears.”
Shakra looked ahead, squinting, and saw several pairs of large ears disappear behind a dune.
“A hunting party, I think,” Kyrill surmised excitedly. “No one else comes out into the desert so far.” He called out to them and the ears cautiously reappeared first, then, even more cautiously, werefoxes revealed themselves at the top of the dune.
They made Kyrill seemed conservative in his appearance. There were four of them and they were all covered in golden jewelry that tinkled together and glinted from every point. One had six tail rings, intricately carved with symbols, while another fancied dangling earrings in abundance. All of them wore sheer cloths at waist and neck, but it was more for ornamentation than for any modesty.
“They have so many tattoos,” Tamarind marveled and Shakra remembered what tattoos meant to his people.
“Just for beauty,” Kyrill told him with a smile. “We like making art out of our bodies.”
“You are with a werelion, werewolves, and a werelizard, Kyrill!” one of the werefoxes called nervously. “What does this mean?”