The Wolf & The Witch

It was night; the ground was white with snow and dead trees, and the clouds were silver, and the moon was half full, low and yellow on the horizon and bleeding pale light around the trunks. Claire heard them long before she saw them: a wolf riding a horse, with a witch behind him, her right and his left wrists cuffed. And she saw the look in the wolf’s eye, and she recognized the witch- the whore, Rana. “Lestat,” she tapped his face, lightly. He was on fire, and the red line had crept up towards his neck. “Lestat, please wake up,” she whispered.

He didn’t wake up.

She got up on her knees. “Go away!” Claire yelled, and her voice rattled off the trunks and echoed around the dead forest like a handful of thrown rocks.

They kept coming.

“I’m serious! We don’t want to fight you!” Claire laid Lestat’s head down, and turned him so his neck wouldn’t hurt, and stood. She pulled the horses closer and pulled a sword free from one of the packs and drew the blade in her right hand.

“Well hello, Claire,” Rana said, riding up behind the other packless wolf.

“Well hello, Clairy,” the wolf said, and hopped down. “I’m Owen. Your mate looks a little rough.”

Claire could tell by the way they were both grinning, like wolves, that they were not here to help. “What do you want?”

The wolf looked at Claire and anger ran down his throat and settled in his chest- why did this other fucking packless wolf get a mate this damn beautiful, while he was stuck with this damn whore? There is a difference between being easy, and being delicious- it’s why the finest foods cost more- pay for the quality. Claire, was it? A low growl started in Owen’s stomach and rose in his throat, and he ran his eyes up and down the witch’s body.

“Your horses,” Rana said. What else? “We’re both goin’ the same direction, we just need to get there faster. We’re the last two couples, you know.” Rana’s hair was long and black and dirty. And the skin around her eyes looked cracked, and sunken, the way the ground hollows after heavy rains.

The last two? Claire had assumed that the other three couples were all travelling back, returning home. What else was there to do? Stay here in this godforsaken wasteland? But why did it matter if they were the last two to get home? “The last two?”

Rana tilted her head. She had a blanket wrapped around her shoulders, and bite marks ran up her cleavage, spreading out across her chest, and up under the blanket, reappearing on her neck. “Yeah. The last two, of the five.” She held the cuff up and jiggled it in the pale light.

Claire really needed Lestat standing beside her right now. She was trying to think, and trying to remember what Rana said, and why it was important, but she took a step back, and leveled her sword at the wolf. She could not take another step back. “Let’s split the horses,” Claire offered. “We’ll follow, and take care of any more soldiers that come from that shitty village.”

“Follow?” Rana looked at Owen, and he smiled, and shook his head. “Do you think we’re that goddamn stupid?”

“You know what this bitch needs?” Owen said, looking at Claire.

“What she’s always needed,” Rana answered. She looked down at Claire’s mate- a very handsome, strong, sexy wolf. A very dangerous one. A very, very sexy one. She had tried many times to catch his attention, and she had heard many rumors about him from some of the witches. All of the packs hated him because he was strong enough to live out from under their rule. This wolf, the one Claire was cuffed to, was a sigma, the rarest of breeds, and she hated Claire for being the one cuffed to him. But Rana hated Claire for plenty of other reasons, as well. “She’s a virgin, you know,” she said, to Owen. “Little Mrs. Prissy is picky, picky. And bitchy. And hateful. And she can’t use magic for shit. And there isn’t a single witch in the coven that likes her. She needs what she’s always needed- a good fucking, to put her in her place.”

Claire’s face dropped.

Owen smiled- he did like Rana. She understood things the way a woman was supposed to understand things- like how much harder it just made him to know he was about to fuck a virgin. This night could not get any better. They were going to cross the border, and he got to fuck this curvy little witch. He pulled his belt free and unbuttoned his pants. Dust jumped off his boots as his pants thudded into the snow.

Claire imitated Lestat- she thrust the sword at the wolf’s thigh. The wolf flicked his wrist and the sword went flying off into the snow. He stepped forward and grabbed Claire by the throat. “A virgin, huh?” He grinned at her.

“Get… Off!” she yelled, and she raked her hand across his face, trying to claw his eyes out- she scratched him and a nail broke off and it stuck out from his forehead.

“Hold her arm,” the wolf said, and lifted Claire into the air, which lifted the limp Lestat into the air, and slammed her down into the snow and dust, hard into the ground, knocking the air out of her lungs. Claire gasped and wheezed- she tried to fight but Rana knelt on her right arm, and the wolf had his foot on her stomach, pinning her. They both smiled down. Snow lowered itself on their shoulders, waiting, cold.

Lestat, please. Lestat. Claire grabbed Lestat’s hand in hers: his right with her left, and locked their fingers together. She could feel the fever in his hand. She brought her right foot up into the wolf’s crotch. “No! Get off... of me! Stop... it!”

The wolf blocked her kicks and knelt down on her stomach and punched the words out of her mouth. Blood sprayed the snow red and Claire felt her teeth loosen. He reached down and grabbed her shirt and tore it off her breasts. And since he had a chunk of flannel already in his hand, he shoved it in her mouth, past her teeth, busting her lip and nearly knocking her front teeth out.

“-Ohp!! Et Off!!”

The wolf scooted back and grabbed her pants and yanked, and pulled, causing Claire’s back to crash back down into the ground. She fought him, and it did no good. He tossed her pants aside. He took his dick in his hand, and was very hard, and was very happy that he was about to break a virgin, especially one this beautiful- her breasts jiggled every time she struggled. He shifted, and his teeth sharpened.

Claire fought, and pulled her right hand as hard as she could, but she couldn’t free it. She choked on blood, then felt a hand on her thigh. Not the wolf’s, not Rana’s, not hers. She fought with all the strength she had, but left her right leg perfectly still.

The wolf leaned over Claire, and smacked her again. Then he switched hands, feeling Rana’s hand brush against his leg as he held his own dick in his right hand, pleased at how hard it was. He grinned down at her in the dark. “I like it better when they scream and fight,” he said, “But you have an annoying voice.” He smacked her again, then punched her, and the back of Claire’s head bounced off the cold, paper-bark ground. The wolf shoved his knee between her legs and spread them apart, then- stopped cold. It felt as if he had just been stung by a bee. He looked down, and saw the tip of a dagger extending through the shaft of his hard dick, just grazing his thumb. “What? What?!” he roared.

Two drops of blood hit Claire’s thigh and ran off into the snow.

“Oh my god!” Rana gasped, her hands at her mouth. She moved off Claire.

Claire wasted no time- she reached over for the sword and swung, and clipped Rana in the leg, slicing the back of her calf wide open.

Rana stumbled in the snow, pulling Owen back. He kicked the sword out of Claire’s hand, then reached down, and slowly pulled the knife free, and the blood poured.

Lestat couldn’t see- his vision was white haze, and he could hardly hear- just a low hum that sounded like his body shutting down. He was on fire- his skin felt like it was burning, his eyes were burning. He pried himself off the ground with all the strength of ashes and crawled on top of Claire.

Owen didn’t know he was about to bleed to death- his dick was still hard, just bleeding, but the dorsal vein that runs along a man’s shaft is a very large vein- next in line to the femoral artery. He tugged his pants up and shifted, and brought his foot down on Claire, driving his heel into her stomach, but instead stomped Lestat. That also worked- he would stomp this virgin bitch to death through her wolf.

“Come on,” Rana said, pulling him. “We need to hurry.”

“I’m going to kill this son of a bitch! God damn this piece of shit!” He stomped his right foot down and Lestat was pounded into Claire and the air was driven from their lungs.

Lestat climbed up her, shielding her, and another heavy boot drove him into Claire again- he braced himself and his arms gave, and his face bounced off the ground, in the snow- his cheek hit her ear.

Owen stomped Lestat again, and again, and then the next time he lifted his foot to stomp, he stumbled. His vision swam, for just a second, and his pants felt heavier.

“Come on- we’re almost there. They’ll be… dead soon. Let’s go.” Rana pulled him to the horses, stumbling, and they struggled up into hard leather saddles. They left a bright red trail of fresh blood from the wolf and the witch to the horse. They groaned and grunted and cussed as they mounted a calm and tired horse. Owen looked back once, clicked his tongue, and drove the horses south.

Lestat allowed his body to relax and he slid off Claire into the snow and rolled onto his back. The snow was cold, and felt good- his skin was on fire, and he was evaporating in the clouds of his own burning.

Claire spit flannel and blood into the snow and reached over for the water skin and took it to his lips. “D-drink, Lestat. Y-you need w-water.” Her lip was busted, her nose was bleeding, blood was in her eye from the gash running along her eyebrow. He opened his mouth for her and drank until he choked. “Does the-the snow feel good?” He nodded, and she scooted behind him and grabbed a handful and ran it up and down his bare chest and along his arms. The red ribbon of death had reached his collarbone, and was hanging down towards his heart, like an open noose. The snow melted fast in her hand. Claire rubbed snow on him a few more times, then she started trembling- it started in her hands, then her wrists, and knees, and then her chest, her ribs, and her heart, and she couldn’t stop shaking; she couldn’t stop trembling. She had nearly been raped. They had nearly been killed. And Lestat still might die. But even dying, he... even dying, he... She bit her lip, causing the split to bleed even more, and tears ran from her eyes and her breath stuck in her throat. “Lestat… why… why do you keep protecting me if… if you don’t like me?”

He felt his body drawing down, as day does to night. He was dissipating into the cold air. Their hands were locked together still, and he squeezed her hand. “Because I guess, somewhere along the way I must’ve… promsissed I… wouldn’t hert you. And I wouldn’t… let you get hert...” He reached his left hand up, and cracked his eyes open. He touched her cheek lightly with his finger, then wiped her nose and lip, smearing blood across her face. “Sorry you... got hert,” he whispered, and let his arm drop, and let the red ribbon like smoke, and the darkness like a heavy noose, and the fever dissipating his ashes into the night, and the witch, have him.