《Our Future Melancolies》


 From mountains to shackles

    BOOK I


    A FOX IN SEARCH OF ENDLESSNESS


    Chapter 1: The abduction


    With his eyes closed, the sunlight was pink. If he concentrated, he could almost imagine himself there. The breeze barely warmer and wetter than the plains. If he stretched out his hand, he could feel the caress of tall grass. The only thing missing was the horizon over the undulating grass, on which, it was said, you could run right up to the clouds.


    Pastel had walked for weeks in the mountains, which, though different from the steppes, shared flowers, horizons and breezes in its valleys.


    A few days earlier, Pastel had left the Guideans'' territory. The agile goats and lynx had stopped at the edge of some low clouds.


    "These clouds are not like the others. This is the forest breathing." A lynx in gray and gold clothing handed him dried provisions as she spoke, her gaze plunged into the forest, which took on ever brighter hues as it drew closer.


    "You''ll soon see. The forest is its own climate. You must think of it as a creature of which you will soon become a part. In its bowels, it''s easy to let yourself be digested at little more slowly than a ration of dried meat." Metal beads rattled in her clothes as she turned to the steppe fox. "Be careful, please Pastel." She took his hand. "Listen to me carefully, remember? Go down south, follow the rivers and then the path east to Ternoulie. Your people will no doubt be there."


    Another companion, a goat with powerful legs, added: "And watch out for the tiny little critters everywhere. Sleep in a hammock and watch out for electronic eels...".


    "Thank you, my friends. Thank you for your help, you will remain in my heart with the memory of your deep river-colored skies." Pastel replied, smiling and hugging the lynx close to him.


    "Above all, keep the horizon and its endlessness in your heart, for it is rare in this jungle. The Gideans will always be there for our steppe friends. We''ll be praying for you and those of yours who are alive or gone."


    Pastel was alone again and breathing new air. A shudder ran through him. From the sweetness of his memories he fell into the present of his rage. The rage that had carried him so far. The one that would bring him back to his own. As he squeezed his eyes shut, black and white replaced pink. All his muscles contracted and he let out a howl toward the jungle.


    Pastel opened his eyes to a sea of dense forest so dense that so little light could penetrate. Under his hands, the grass was replaced by a fern where caterpillars were stirring and rapidly devouring it. Soon they too would be eaten, feeding the earth, the mushrooms, the trees, the beasts. Who knows what the jungle will be like on the next full moon? Without conscious beings to blaze trails, the jungle is perpetually consuming itself.


    The red fox inhaled the humid, heavy air before swatting away an insect in his russet fur, perfectly incongruous in this context. The young fox set off again, his stride agile but tired. He was at ease with solitude and got by comfortably in the wild, but this wandering was different. He had no beast to chase or village to return to. His only guide was a mad hope, a shiny pebble and his melancholy. Sometimes, to reassure himself, he whispered to the stone, the trees and the birds, or hummed songs that his grandmother had hummed before him, on the paths of his traditional hunting territory. He was a long way from all that now.


    Every evening, by the light of the fire, he would look at the stone, caress it and try to make contact with it, like a child calling its mother on a moonless night. In return, she haunted his dreams, but only fractionally. Like the dislocated echo of someone else''s memory. During the day, however, he kept her preciously in a small pouch hidden in the coppery fur of his armpit. At least with it, he kept a little of the light of the plains.


    The further he descended from the mountains, the denser the forest became and the less light penetrated. The lone fox hunted and slept in a hammock he had quickly woven from lianas. At night, he used the stars as a guide, sailing slowly eastwards.


    Fifteen moons after entering the jungle, he stopped on the path he had never left before. There was something different. Something familiar in this unfamiliar jungle. He took a few more steps. His hairy ears perked up. Beyond the crickets came a torrent. Pastel smiled. The vegetation was so dense that he''d had to take out his saber to cut his way through the increasingly impressive rustling.


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    The air was fresh with the water that a waterfall sprayed deafeningly. Pastel found himself at the foot of the torrent, which fed and enlivened a small but deep and clear pond. An opening in the canopy let down a streak of light that made the water-laden air glow.


    His chest swelled with sparkling joy and he couldn''t hold back a brief yelp of delight. The waterfall already weighing down his coat reminded him of the intense downpours of the plains. This was the feeling of d¨¦j¨¤ vu he had on the path, the fox thought. Pastel scampered down from boulder to boulder to the water, far enough from the waterfall to keep his clothes dry, and hastily stripped off his gear. His white chest and belly were browned by the red earth of the jungle, and his coppery back had long since lost its lustre. He plunged into the water, tracing a trail of dust in the crystal-clear liquid.


    After swimming and making sure he had removed the last traces of dust and dirt from his fur, he went out to lie on one of the few rocks exposed to the sun.


    Only then did he realize how tired he''d been on the road and how much he''d missed this sensation, the pleasure of drying out in the sun.


    His breathing slowed gently, as he relaxed his body, but he suddenly leapt to his feet. Almost instantly, he went from perfect relaxation to extreme concentration.


    Nothing had changed, at least on the outside, but he suddenly had a premonition. The stone was warm against his fur. Suddenly, the pleasure in his body was joined by an unsettling cold. He moved away from the water. His coat still damp, he quickly put on his clothes, grabbed his bag and drew his sword.


    At the same time, he heard something in the jungle. A creak. Pastel turned his head, following his ears. He''d just heard another noise. People were there. He was in danger. His senses told him there were several creatures nearby, circling him.


    He ran between the branches, creepers and ferns, in the opposite direction to the noises. As a hunter, he had long stalked, but the feeling of being stalked was newer and definitely more disconcerting.


    Between his teeth, he whispered imperceptibly to himself: "What the hell was the idea of leaving the trail? What an idea to take a detour, damn it... Shit!"


    They were after him. He had to get back up to the trail, because that was the only way he could lose those chasing him. He knew that on an open surface, he had a good chance of losing his pursuers, but that in the jungle, he didn''t have the advantage. Pastel realized that the creatures stalking him might have the same intuition, for he could hear footsteps surrounding him, rapid movements towards the path.


    The movements were getting closer. Soon he saw vegetation stirring and shadows passing. His pupils were wide open, his ears pricked. As a shadow approached from one side, he launched himself into a huge fern, rolled over and took off, but not without getting stuck a few times in the vegetation or dead trees. He seemed to have momentarily avoided an ambush.


    For a few hours, he continued to alternate between running and stealth, but he knew that wherever he decided to hide, he''d get lost if he didn''t return to the path and his pursuers blocked his way. In the shadow of a gigantic stump he waited, eating a ration and drinking a little water from his gourd.


    "Who are they and why do they insist on following me? Bandits? Locals who don''t like visitors?... this jungle really is a nightmare." Pastel thought, unable to see further than a few meters into the dense forest. The sun was starting to go down and he knew that dangers multiplied at night. He had little choice but to look for a long detour back to the path and run for as long as he could... After all, he knew no other way. The fox merely sighed softly. He could also try to fight them. After all, he knew how to fight... maybe that was the only way?


    "Ok.... ok. Here we go." he thought. He caught himself thinking about the "we" as if the stone were someone. He resumed his path, moving with great care, in near-perfect silence. He was more familiar with this version of stalking. He chose an arc-shaped trajectory to the west. He would try to catch them from the rear.


    After half an hour, he heard whispers. He stopped. All around him, immense trees, creepers, groves, ferns, branches, shouts, sparkles, creaks. It was so different from the plains. He lost the sound of voices. They reappeared further to the right.


    "Pastel, concentrate! You can''t lose them!" he said to himself.


    A shadow. He ducks again, sword firmly coiled in his hand. A panther. And... a wolf. One has a spear and the other a short sword.


    Their ears are adorned with heavy golden curls. They''re bare-chested, but have leather protectors on their forearms. Pastel slid along behind them, but suddenly the panther turned around. A bird had flown up behind.


    "There he is!" Spear shot. Pastel deflects the blow and pounces on the female panther, whistling his blade and slashing her forearm. She screams. The wolf moves forward, Pastel deflects a second blow, but the wolf leaps back before the fox can return to the offensive.


    "The kid''s angry, he''s trying his hand at hunting!


    "Looks like he doesn''t want to live, the wretch!" Panther shouted, clearly angry, before twirling her spear, trying to gain a little space and make Pastel back off. The latter, perfectly concentrated, said nothing and simply threw a few quick blows. His sharpness seemed to impress his opponents, who were unable to break his guard. Suddenly, Pastel saw only a glint in the wolf''s eyes before initiating a withdrawal gesture, but a club was already slamming into his shoulder from behind. A piercing pain shot through his side and he couldn''t hold back a yelp. He turned and blocked a second blow from a huge brown stag. A second wolf had joined in, also with a spear.


    Then, methodically, each of them began to attack Pastel from one side, then the other. No matter how much Pastel parried, jumped and slid, he found himself pressed ever harder against a trunk, his fur increasingly slashed. A glint of fear in his eyes translated into a confident smile on his opponents'' faces.


    Spear blow. Sword stroke, Blade whistle, mocking laughter, tired panting, rustling leaves. Clash of weapons. Arm shaking, sweat in eyes.


    "That''s enough now." Hurled the big stag as he brought his club down on Pastel''s head.


    Darkness.

 Chapter 2: Lost fox and tired gnoll

    Pastel tried to figure out where he was. Despite his night vision, he could only see that he was in a hut woven from roots. Between the holes, he could make out the glow of a fire and the voices of his captors. Their voices were muffled... as if they were no longer in the forest, but in an enclosed place like a cave or narrow ravine.


    Someone entered with a torch, dazzling him. Pastel looked away.


    "There''s our nice little sausage," said a large stag with a deep voice.


    "A sausage full of surprises" he added, rolling the stone in his hand.


    The deer moved closer to Pastel. So close that he felt the warmth of his face.


    "If you tell me where you got this, and where we can find more... you might live".


    Pastel remained silent. His ears were folded back on his skull and his tail was tucked between his paws. He refused to speak, even when the deer howled in his face and punched him in the stomach.


    Pastel was stunned into silence.


    "Honestly, I was hoping it wouldn''t be easy. I was hoping we could have a little fun" The deer stroked Pastel''s cheek, then snapped its fingers. A wolf entered with a steaming bowl in his hand.


    The stag put his hand on Pastel''s face again, this time to open his mouth. The fox growled, bared its teeth and tried to bite, but to no avail. His growls turned to whimpers as the wolf poured a sour liquid down his throat.


    They left, leaving Pastel confused for what seemed like hours. But his sensations slowly changed. Without realizing it, he began to murmur aloud.


    "I shouldn''t have gone to the pond... what a pain. The stone I... I''ve got to shut up, but... shit!"


    He was no longer in control of his body, as if someone was speaking for him.


    The stag returned, "I see this potion is already working very well and..." With a predatory smile, his gaze swept Pastel''s body. "That you''re surrendering yourself to us."


    Pastel then realized that his body was betraying him uncontrollably, as his shaft was getting hard. An equally uncontrollable wave of rage swept through him. "I''m going to kill you thieving skunks! You vile parasites!"


    " Whoa haha, kid! We''ll see about that. In the meantime, I''ve got a few questions for you." The big stag had approached. Pastel noticed a pink sex starting to emerge from its fur sheath, between the big deer''s muscular legs. In the hollow of his ear, he whispered, "You''re going to come with us to find more of these stones. And you''re going to tell us now how to find them!"


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    ***


    Yeen awoke refreshed, but jaded. The day before, after escorting some merchants to their destination, he had used his wages to buy enough victuals for several days and satiated himself by the fire before sleeping off a long, dreamless night.


    "A week later, back where we started, a few aches and pains and a few more coins", he had said to himself.


    The tall gnol quickly packed his belongings and easily tossed his pack onto his powerful back, before securing his sword at his waist. He breathed in and set off for his next contract. To lift his spirits, he thought back to his greatest battles. It made the time go by faster.


    "Footprints" he murmured to himself, after a few hours'' walk. Indeed, when he walked alone, Yeen liked to talk aloud to himself. Funnily enough, it kept him company. On such a trail, the tracks were no great surprise, but Yeen''s interest was piqued by their quantity and direction.


    "hmmm... the forest...".


    A series of tracks headed towards the forest, but in different directions. The gnol stopped, turning on himself as he looked at the ground. There were wolf tracks, deer hooves, but he suddenly noticed a different kind of track.


    "A fox? Here, here... His tracks are a bit older. He got there first and..."


    The gnol stepped back, bent towards the ground, trying to better piece together the sequence of events. Now, more than ever, a bad intuition was rising inside him.


    "I''ve got a bad hunch," he finally said, as if to convince himself of what he already suspected.


    "The cub arrived alone, entered the forest and a group of wolves and deer followed him later... taking different paths. Sounds like an ambush." He had finished his sentence in a whisper this time, frowning.


    He grunted, hesitating. The tracks were already several hours old and he couldn''t see any more coming out of the forest. It would be dangerous to venture out alone, and it was also possible that his assumption was wrong.


    A growl of displeasure erupted from his chest as he showed his large fangs to the forest. He knew he couldn''t stop himself from checking it out, but he also knew it would set him back. At the same time, he knew he enjoyed the fight too much to simply keep going.


    Slowly, he entered the forest, concentrating on the fox''s trail.


    After a few minutes, he reached the pond, then found the trail back into the forest. He soon found a trampled spot and noticed sword marks on the surrounding trunks.


    "No blood, they''ve captured it... Okay."


    The gnol retraced his steps and found a spot away from the tracks, near the pond. There he pulled some provisions from his pack and swallowed a piece of dried meat, chewing it energetically as he prepared himself with experience and confidence for battle. He adjusted his belt and put on a leather breastplate under his tunic. Quickly, he finally hung his provisions on the branch of a tree, out of sight of hungry maws. He could now travel lighter and more discreetly.


    After a few hours of meticulously discreet walking through the forest, Yeen entered a ravine and finally found the brigands'' camp. From a distance and high up, he could spy on them through the foliage and wait for nightfall.

 Rescue and kill

    Pastel''s mind was racing, and he couldn''t control it. He couldn''t control much of anything anymore. It was like being caught in a storm, in the middle of the ocean, and no longer knowing up from down. Pastel saw himself again, years earlier, spinning in a wave at the same time as the splintered hull of a boat. The surface shimmering like splinters of light. "Daaaad!" Pastel shouted, his eyes wild.


    "Shit Starf, you gave him way too much! He''s completely lost it! We barely got a few sensible words out of him before he went off the rails. Now he thinks I''m his father!"


    A wolf behind replied: "Don''t worry, it''ll pass and we''ll have our moment. It''ll be easier afterwards, he''ll be more tired, I tell you."


    The big stag, still close to Pastel, stroked his quivering belly. Pastel opened his mouth and yelped, looking around, still confused. The stag said, devouring Pastel with his eyes: "And I must admit I liked to see him twitch and spit with rage like that... it turned me on".


    In Pastel''s mind, the whirling slowed down. He tugged at his limbs. "I''m tied up. Shit... Help!"


    "Ah, there he is again!" Said the one whose name must have been Starf.


    "Please let me go! It hurts... you don''t understand..."


    "The stone, where does it come from?" the stag asked softly, in Pastel''s ear, before stroking the back of his neck with his muzzle. He loved the smell of his sweat. He could smell his fear. Pastel could feel his erect sex caressing the stag''s belly as he approached. Despite the cold night, a wave of warmth swept through him, chassing the disgust he first felt. What was in that potion they gave him?


    "It was given to me... after the first attack, I need to go... it''s important otherwise..." Pastel''s eyes widened as he remembered where he was, and to stop himself from speaking he suddenly bit down with all his might on the neck of the deer that was now leaning over him.


    The deer let out a howl of pain and leapt backwards, but as Pastel was still firmly clinging to his neck, he instead toppled the wooden structure where Pastel was hanging, as blood spurted and ran down his fur.


    "Little shit! He almost cut my throat!" Furious, he tried to crush Pastel''s head, now on the ground, with a blow from his hoof, but the wolf held him by the arm, and his foot vibrated the ground instead.


    "Damn dog! Corpse''s scum! Shit!" He held his neck to contain the bleeding."Don''t worry we''ll take care of him later, come on we''ll fix you up." Said the wolf as he led the deer out of the cabin.


    Pastel was face-down in the dirt, panting in pain as the wooden structure he was still tied to kept him grounded. He tried again to free himself from his bonds, grunting. In his open mouth, the earth mixed with the deer''s blood. The structure seemed to be broken and he managed, without freeing himself, to ease the tension.


    "I''ve got to find the stone... the brigands have driven me mad, I''m losing it I''ve got to..." He couldn''t help muttering, still under the effect of the potion he''d been given.Pausing in his effort, he heard shouting outside. Were they coming back to finish him off? Suddenly he realized that a fight was taking place outside. After a moment, silence fell and slow footsteps approached his hut.


    Someone entered, but Pastel could only see muscular legs. He couldn''t help shouting: "Go away you ugly useless fucker! Or kill me and you''ll be damned for eternity!"


    "Wooow, it''s okay, buddy. It''s over! I''m here to set you free, don''t worry. Almost all the morons are dead." Yeen bent over Pastel to untie him. The latter slowly got down on all fours, groaning, before standing up to look at whoever was standing in front of him. A large gnoll with a white belly and a brown body speckled with gray. In his coat were the bloodstains of those he had just killed.


    "Heavens, are you all right? You''re full of blood!" Yeen said, holding out his hand to Pastel.


    "Don''t worry, it''s not mine. I''m sorry I didn''t slit that sweet-smelling deer''s throat, what am I saying, excuse me I... who are you? I don''t know if I can trust you but what choice do I have wow that''s a big sword..."


    Pastel, again had let out a loghorae of words with a look of surprise and didn''t stop talking until he was out of breath. "Okay..." Yeen replied with a frown. What a strange fellow, he thought as he looked at the naked body of the fox, who was perhaps a dog in fact, or a strange mixture. His coppery coat was covered in dirt, but his eyes still shone with bright intensity.


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    "I''m sorry, it''s unbearable they made me drink something... disgusting, hot... that makes me say what''s on my mind, things I shouldn''t say and things I shouldn''t do." He blushed suddenly but looked up at Yeen anyway, sketching a faint smile.


    "Come on we''ve got to go quickly before daybreak, I think the one you chomped got away. You tell me your story later after you''ve had a bit of a rest, will you?"


    " Wait for the stone! The magic stone they took from me! Oh I should have ripped out his carotid artery, then his eyes, then his heart!" Pastel had lost his temper again but staggered, his legs still numb.


    "What are you talking about? What does your stone look like?"


    "Green, about this big. Like a big olive... or a little plum... or"


    "And who had it? Do you remember who took it?"


    "The deer... we have to go after him! It''s so important! Please, we''ve got to find it!"


    "Wait, this thing? I found this in their loot."


    Yeen took the stone out of his bag. Pastel was stunned by the sight of his stone. What incredible luck that this gnoll had noticed this tiny stone in a brigand''s camp after a battle? A little more and it was as if the stone had been found on purpose. He was certain it was still with the deer that had escaped...


    As they found Pastel''s clothes torn in a corner of the hut, he resolved simply to dress in an oversized tunic, found in a half-collapsed tent.


    "It stinks of sweat... besides, this place reeks of blood."


    "You''re awfully mouthy for a guy who came within an inch of dying. Hurry up, follow me." Yeen hopped nimbly out of the camp before turning to see Pastel who, despite the stimulating effects of the drink still taking effect, still seemed numb from the hours spent tied up.


    "Wait, do you mind?" said Yeen, who returned to Pastel''s side and, without waiting for an answer, lifted him with ease, pressing him against his muscular chest.


    "I''m Yeen, by the way."


    "Pastel."


    Pastel clung to the gnoll''s neck without adding anything. The thick, rough fur gave him warmth. As his agile carrier made his way deeper into the forest, he couldn''t help but notice his scent."Nutmeg, clove, white flower, musk, red earth..." he thought.


    They retrieved Yeen''s provisions, which were still clinging to a tree by the river, before moving further away. By the time they had settled a few kilometers further on, in an unassuming glen by a small stream, birds were chirping timidly and dawn was breaking through the trunks. After drinking from the stream and rinsing off his pellage, he sat down by the fire Yeen had just lit.


    "Normally I''d try not to draw attention, but in the morning fog, this light won''t draw too much notice, and besides, we need it. It''s been quite a night! Here, you must be hungry."


    The foxhound greedily seized the victuals the gnoll handed him. He couldn''t help but squeal with delight as he savored the bread, herbs and dried meat. The gnoll, also chewing his meal, smiled at Pastel''s enthusiasm.


    "And what were you doing all alone like that on the road? It''s not very safe."


    Finishing swallowing his mouthful, Pastel replied, sputtering, "I''m used to it, I''ve spent my life on roads and trails... with my family first then... by necessity. Important things."


    "You speak like an elderly fox, how old are you, say?"


    "I''m not a fox, I''m a foxhound. And I''m 20... wow, this thing is amazing. It''s the best thing I''ve ever eaten in my life!"


    Yeen burst out laughing, revealing an impressive row of fangs, which Pastel didn''t fail to notice, with wide, impressed eyes. "What an incredible beast," he thought, barely restraining himself from saying it out loud.


    "The food''s always better after the fight."


    "I don''t like fighting." Pastel replied simply, as transparent as ever. He glanced at the gnoll; fire shone in his pupils. "You like fighting, don''t you? You''re a mercenary, aren''t you? Am I wrong?" Saying his words confidently, Pastel surprised even himself. Where did this confidence come from?


    Yeen took a second to try and interpret his interlocutor''s shining gaze. "Mercenary, yes..." He hesitated, "But I''ve got my principles. I don''t accept dirty jobs. I protect honest people... and honest interests. Not like those goons who are now cold as mud."


    Pastel didn''t answer, thoughtful. He didn''t know if he could trust this somewhat rustic gnoll. But what choice did he have? Perhaps in exchange for the promise of a little gold, he could help him.


    "I... I need your help, Yeen."


    "I''m not taking any jobs right now. Those brigands had some valuable stuff that was worth it, but now I''m going home. I need a vacation."


    Pastel was stunned by his savior''s cold response.


    "If you''re heading in the same direction, we can walk together, but nothing more. I''m heading east."


    Pastel gritted his teeth, bitter. He wasn''t sure what to say. After a silence filled with a few sparrow chirps, he said simply.


    "Okay. Yes."


    "Come on, get some sleep." Yeen sighed, settling himself half against a log, one hand on his sword, the other on his belt, closing his eyes.


    Pastel, too, stretched out on a bed of leaves and tried to close his eyes, but his mind was still racing. "Calm down, Pastel. He''s right, you have to sleep or the rest of the day will be hell. Just breathe.


    Pastel closed his eyes and focused on his sensations, trying to slow his thinking. His breath slowed. He felt his heart throbbing in his chest, pumping warm blood through his body. He could feel the heat of the fire and the crackling embers. Behind his eyelids the dawning day... He remembered the warmth of the gnoll''s arms.


    "Nutmeg, clove, white flower, red earth and... what else?"


    A wave of warmth swept through his body. His sensations still heightened tenfold by the drug, he inhaled, his breath ragged. He felt the air slip between his fangs, into his chest.


    "Nutmeg, clove, white flower, red earth..." He thought of the texture of the mercenary''s spotted fur and without realizing it pulled up his tunic, revealing his body. His mind was feverish, burning with a haunting thought.

 A Strange Morning (NSFW)

    "What''s going on now?" Pastel thought.


    Since he''d eaten and closed his eyes, his sensations seemed to have increased tenfold and transformed. Heat like a fizzing, the beating of his heart like a pleasant movement... It was as if everything was a gentle caress. He noticed something in his body, in his pelvis. A warmth he knew, but had never felt so intensely: he could feel his prostate throbbing, burning. Without being able to control himself, he squeezed his anus and each tightening sent a wave of heat through his body, while his sex grew ever harder.


    "What''s got into me..." He opened his eyes and cast his gaze on the dozing gnoll, whose body had slid to the floor. He seemed to be sleeping heavily. A warrior''s sleep.


    Breathing through his half-open, salivating mouth, Pastel approached the gnoll. He gazed down at his arms, bare chest and muscular thighs. He was wearing only a sort of combat skirt, held up by his belt. An impressive bulge deformed the fabric between his thighs.


    Pastel approached on all fours, his bright pupils riveted on Yeen''s crotch, like a predator ready to pounce on its prey. He could no longer control himself. In fact, he was no longer trying.


    In his mind, there was no room for anything other than the tenfold sensations in his body and the gnoll''s body. Crouching down on the latter, he reached for the torso to take a deep breath.


    "Nutmeg, clove, white flower, red earth and..."


    He moved further down the body, still inhaling. "musk and... semen."


    Pastel slowly lifted the drowsy creature''s garment to reveal heavy, velvety testicles and a sex hidden in its sheath. Only a pink tip protruded. Pastel''s heart was beating so fast he felt as if he were vibrating from within, so intense was his desire.


    "The potion continues to control me", he managed to think. He leaned over the gnoll''s crotch and inhaled. The air, laden with the gnoll''s scent, slid through his nostrils and into his lungs, loosening the last traces of inhibition. He had forgotten his quest, the stone, his history, his worries. Only one goal remained in his mind.


    The young foxhound, his coppery fur glistening with the glow of fire, brought his open mouth to the gnoll''s cock. The warmth of his breath made Yeen stir. Pastel remained motionless for a few seconds. The sex in front of him began to emerge from its sheath, very slowly. Pastel held back a yelp of desire, like a puppy waiting for its food.


    He stretched out his tongue and began to lightly stroke the tip of Yeen''s now unveiled sex. Under Pastel''s gentle wet caresses, Yeen''s sex grew and grew. And as it grew, Pastel forgot himself and licked with ever greater sweeps of his tongue the increasingly impressive size of the sex, the tips of his fangs subtly caressing the mass of burning pink flesh.


    Pastel took a moment to step back and observe the immense, throbbing sex. His chest tightened, gripped by a fear: "What if it doesn''t fit?" Pastel''s prostate was hard as a stone and vibrating, sending waves of desire through his body. He felt as if he were incomplete and was dying to feel the gnoll flesh inside him. He was going to do everything he could to swallow every inch.


    Caught by a new wave of heat, he eagerly removed his tunic to reveal his completely naked body to the morning air. He reached for the cock again and engulfed it without a second thought, sucking and licking it clean.


    After a long minute, he separated his face from the wet sex with difficulty and squatted over the gnoll''s chest. In his current state of fever and uncontrollable desire, he didn''t even care whether he woke him up or not. Trembling, he dropped to his knees and with his hand guided the large sex to his throbbing anus and pressed down. He pushed on the sex and as the burning tip of the penis penetrated him, he grimaced with pain mixed with pleasure that unveiled his fangs. He pressed even harder, and a few more centimeters of flesh entered.


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    The gnoll''s penis was inside him! Forgetting the pain, he crouched down even more and a few minutes later the whole sex was inside him. Pastel felt full, his anus completely distended. He could feel the heartbeat of the beast now penetrating him. His own sex, black as his snout, was covered in precum.


    Pastel leaned his body back to rest his arms behind him. Inside, the large penis was pressing against his prostate. Pastel began to move his pelvis, subtly at first, then with increasing amplitude and vigor. He closed his eyes and, with his mouth still open, moaned. The sensation of the cock sliding against his open anus, then of its top hitting his insides, sent waves of pleasure and heat through him, each time tenfold. Completely transported by pleasure, he hadn''t noticed the hands that had gently begun to caress his thighs.


    His hip thrusts, growing in confidence, had become like a ripple, his body like a wave returning to crash again and again against the gnoll.


    Barely conscious, so great was the pleasure, Pastel slowed the beat of his body on the other, concentrated on the mast of flesh sliding inside and out of him. It was then that he heard a grunt and felt the penis plunge back into him with renewed vigor. Pastel let out a yelp of pleasure and surprise as Yeen took over.


    Yeen had risen to his knees and was clasping Pastel''s thighs in his powerful hands, his gaze fixed on the face of the man he was thrusting into, transfigured with pleasure. After a minute, he grabbed Pastel by the hips and squatted down. His change of position pushed the sex even deeper. Pastel screamed with renewed pleasure.


    The gnoll shifted position, pushing Pastel back onto the leafy ground and raising his legs onto his shoulders. This gave him a better view of the foxhound''s slender, muscular body. His coppery fur was damp with sweat but still soft under the mercenary''s large hands. The mercenary leaned over, brought his mouth close to Pastel''s and nipped at his neck.


    Pastel moaned and sighed: "more, more... "


    The gnoll growled and adopted a rapid cadence in his hip thrusts. In a furious embrace, the two strangers grunted and groaned. From a distance, you''d have thought they were engaged in a deadly battle, not a coitus as violent as it was unbelievably delicious.


    As Pastel dug his claws into Yeen''s back, he let out a long, breathless howl, his body braced and trembling. Inside him, from his prostate, a pleasure on the verge of burning enveloped his whole body, like the incandescent light of molten glass. At the same time, his semen jetted profusely all over his torso, face and into Yeen''s fur.


    The latter, clutching Pastel''s neck in his jaws, staring into space, contracted his muscles and redoubled the energy of his thrusts for long, ecstatic seconds before giving one last powerful thrust and uttering a deep growl against Pastel''s throat, who felt a tide of hot liquid fill his belly. They remained motionless for a few moments, one against the other, one inside the other, their breaths mingling with the birdsong.


    As Pastel, exhausted, gradually came to himself, Yeen murmured, "Wow, boy... that was hot. I don''t know what they gave you, but damn, I''m interested."


    "Thanks..." replied Pastel, who realized too late that his answer wasn''t entirely relevant. Still a little confused and suddenly exhausted, he added: "I''m feeling better now".


    "I can see that."


    The gnoll withdrew slowly and stood back to look at Pastel lying on the ground.


    "What a mess. We''ll have to wash up in the creek."


    The young man''s pellage was full of cum and his anus was leaking a thick trickle of semen, like an overturned amphora of cream empties to the ground.


    "hmmmhmm" Pastel said simply, stretching before curling up into a ball.


    "What are you doing?"


    "After sleep," murmured the fox.


    "But your pellage is going to be all... sticky. There''s a lot of it."


    Pastel had already fallen asleep.


    Yeen, still stunned by this surreal moment of intense pleasure and by the turn of events, looked at Pastel who was snoring on the ground, completely unphased by the puddle of semen. Never had he thought, as he tracked the young man down, that the next day would begin like this. Should he have pushed him away? Perhaps the young man would regret it all the next day... but at the same time, this potion only allowed the expression of desires and thoughts... nothing that wasn''t secretly already there.


    The gnoll frowned as he tried to rid himself of the unpleasant feeling of guilt that had just settled over him. "I was half asleep... I didn''t know what I was doing either... and then he started it." As he got up to wash in the stream, he thought back to his companion''s moans, to his slender, muscular body arched over his own. How could he regret such coitus?


    He shook off the last traces of remorse, along with the semen and dirt that coated his coat. Naked in the middle of the stream, he shook himself, throwing a myriad of sparkling droplets into the light-filled air. He inhaled and smiled. Funnily enough, his nap and the fight that had followed it had cheered him up. Yeen was curious for the day to come.

 Chapter 5: A new Trail

    A village in flames. It was a peaceful end to a day like so many others. So much summer and orange skies. So many warm evenings and shadows redrawing the valleys. He stood still and in the background. A spectator. A house suddenly collapsed, its beams cracking, renewing the breath of a raging fire that roared skyward.


    Suddenly, he noticed a pain. In his body, a pain in his mouth. His teeth. He clenched his teeth as hard as he could. Grinding.


    He broke the stillness of his gaze to look at the grass at his feet. A streak of fire was turning green into brown, twig into dust. The fire reached his feet when he heard a voice. It was distorted, as if articulated through a mass of water. He closed his eyes and suddenly found himself lying somewhere. Somewhere warm, but far from hot. He was crying, but his chest was full of anger... No. Full of love?


    The voice returned, as distorted as ever. A phrase.... there was his name, perhaps.


    "...Yeen."


    He stirred, scratched. "Open your eyes. Open your eyes... open your eyes!"


    A forest floor opened before him. He breathed in and regained awareness of his body, piecing together his memories like a fragmented fabric. He understood where he was. Pastel sat up on his elbows, grimacing, aching. He scratched his belly. Dried semen irritated his skin and tugged at his fur.


    "Ah... that wasn''t a dream." Pastel was tetanized as he thought about his morning pounding. Hip thrusts, immense sex, desire bigger than the mountains. In a moment of panic, he looked around. The fire was out, the birds were singing. The large tunic was beside him and the makeshift camp was silent. No trace of the mercenary. "Shit!" Pastel caught his head in his hands. "Aaaaaaaaaaaah..."


    He''d lost all his gear, his clothes... not to mention his dignity. At least he still had the stone."That''s the most important thing, Pastel." He said to himself, reassuring himself. "You came within a hair''s breadth of losing the stone. It could have been a lot worse. You''ll pull through, as always."


    "You''re awake."


    Pastel raised his eyes to Yeen, who stood between the trunks, a bag slung over his shoulder."I...." Pastel articulated.


    "You don''t need to explain yourself. We don''t need to talk about this morning if you want. It was fine. Very good, in fact. But we can forget the whole thing if it bothers you... although I''m not about to forget it, but you know what I mean, right?".


    "..."


    Yeen laid his bag on the ground and took out a belt, a small pouch, and a dagger. Rudimentary equipment. "I went back to their camp to pick these up and make sure there was nothing left with any value. I got you this. It''ll make you feel a little less... naked under your tunic."


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    "Thanks!" Pastel suddenly noticed, among the valuables that Yeen had collected, his sabre.


    "Hey, that''s my sabre."


    Yeen didn''t move and looked away, without saying a word. After a few awkard seconds Pastel added:" Can you... give it back to me? The black sabre. Please."


    "Ok fine" Said Yeen, trowing reluctantly the sabre to the ground, just before crouching close to Pastel''s face, still sitting on the floor.


    "I tell you what. Me, I''m hitting the road again in thirty minutes. I''ve wasted enough time as it is. If you want to make the trip east with me, no problem, but you''ve got to be ready. If not, well good luck for the rest and thanks for this morning. Ah, that''s right, we didn''t talk about it. I didn''t say anything."


    Yeen resumed his preparations, adjusting his bags and inspecting his sword as if he were alone. Pastel realized he wouldn''t be waiting for him, so he quickly went to the stream to wash up. As he walked, he could feel his sore bottom, but it wasn''t too bad. With or without pain, he was going to have to walk, and probably quickly, given the length of the gnoll''s legs.


    His pellage cleaned, he snorted and ran to his new equipment, which Yeen had simply thrown on the ground.


    The latter finished putting his bags on his shoulders and glanced at the foxhound, which was hopping between the rocks and branches on the ground, with a serious look on its face. He smiled and pretended to leave.


    "Ehhhh wait!"


    Yeen headed for the road without saying a word. With a grunt, Pastel hurriedly put on his clothes and equipment and ran to join the gnoll, who was striding along.


    Pastel followed, slipping between branches and thickets to adjust his belt. They came to a path. It ran parallel to the path they''d taken the day before and Yeen had chosen it, Pastel guessed, to avoid attracting attention, in case the brigands tried to find their camp. It was a less direct route, but safer.


    "Good. I think you owe me a few explanations." Said the gnoll without turning his gaze. "You tell me what brought you out on the road like that, why they tied you up and drugged you like a pickled sausage, and what''s all this about a stone. In exchange, I''ll give you a piece of my story."


    You could hear the subtle rubbing of leaves on their clothes and fur. Near them, a butterfly twirled.


    "So?" reiterated Yeen.


    "I was just thinking," said Pastel, who didn''t know where to start, or what to say. Now that he had regained control of his will, he wanted to measure the words carefully, so as not to say too much to this man who remained an unknown.


    "The stone..." He remembered the moment the gnoll had entered the hut, when he was on the ground covered in blood and helpless.


    "Wait for my stone! The magic stone, they took it from me! Oh that I should have ripped out his carotid artery, then his eyes, then his heart!" That''s what he remembered yelling. So perhaps Yeen suspected that the stone wasn''t commonplace, but in a funny way, he sensed, a half-truth was perhaps the safest course.


    "It''s a long story... First of all, you probably know as well as I do, but there are many magical objects, which have certain powers."


    "I''m not five years old anymore, so your story might be awfully long if you start that far back!" Pastel ignored the interjection and continued.


    "I grew up on the steppes of the Cradle of Clouds as we say. You probably call it something else. We moved with the seasons, the birds and the beasts, and the priestess of our clan, my great-great-grand-mother, guided us, like all the priests and priestesses before her. And like all of them, she guided herself with a stone, this stone. Every solstice, there was a ritual feast and Mamalou... the priestess..." Pastel''s voice broke as he articulated the name with affection.


    A few steps in the silence. A small animal leapt across the path, a few yards ahead of them. "Mamalou was talking to the stone. All in chorus, we sang ritual questions, wishes for the return of the seasons, the times, the hills. But on my eighteenth summer solstice, everything changed."