the patch of raw, oozing flesh between her breasts was a little offputting, too. But all in all, the lads hadn''t broken her too bad. She would do nicely for tonight.


    . Feisty ones were the best.


    He turned on his heels, splashed a flask of acid into the old fart''s cage for good measure, and walked out, ignoring the sizzling sound of the green liquid and the screams of the captive.


    "I want her in my room in an hour," he said to the burly man lounging at the entrance. He couldn''t remember the fellow''s name for the life of him. "Make sure to give her a healing potion first. I like my women with perfect skin."


    The hour of waiting flew away like nothing. He sent half a bottle of wine down his throat to get himself into the mood. Then the other half, too. Then some more. Then he might have dozed off a little. When he woke up, the full moon was already doing its course through the night sky.


    Muffled voices came from outside the door.


    "We just tell him, and then run like hell. He is probably too drunk to catch us."


    This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    "Bring the girl," he barked. "What are you waiting for?"


    "Um... Chief, we have a problem. She... um, kind of... escaped."


    "Turned into a leopard. Mangled Ed and Jon. Then another leopard came and—"


    "Bullshit!" he bellowed. "Leopards, my ass! You failed! Fooled by a scrawny elf girl! And you call yourselves the Stag Lord''s gang? You are a shame, a failure, a fucking disappointment! Do not show your faces here until you retrieve her!"


    He returned to his room to grab some empty bottles and hurl them at his men, but by the time he found any, the failures and disappointments were nowhere to be seen anymore. He took two wobbly steps to go after them, then tripped, fell on his face, and passed out on the dirty rug.


    He smelled flowers fresh from summer rain, cool spring water, tree sap, and his own vomit. She is here. Oh damn. Shame crashed down on him like a ton of bricks. He hated to show weakness, especially in front of the lady that came to him in his dreams.


    The green-skinned beauty lifted the stag helmet from the ground and gingerly dusted it off. She looked into the skull''s eye sockets, ignoring him.


    "My poor stag," she whispered in a voice of leaves soughing on a breeze. "Are you still the proud king of the forests? Or have you grown soft and weak, a fattened quarry for hunting hounds? Could it be that I... misjudged you?"