Lyda was a young raet, only having been recognized as an adult by the tribe a few months ago. She, like all of her race, resembled both a mouse and a human. They had humanlike hands and upper bodies, and their faces were pointed, but the overall shape and appearance were humanoid. Their legs resembled the hind legs of a mouse more than the legs of a human, had tails like those of a mouse, but they were largely useless except for showing strong emotion. They were covered with fur, the only exceptions being the tail, nose, palms of the hands, and bottoms of the feet. Their heads had hair that was humanlike. They didn't wear clothes, with the exception of belts on which to carry weapons and tools.
Lyda's fur was gray, with the exception of a heart shaped patch on her chest that covered her breasts and tapered to a point just above her navel, and her human-hair, which was brown and hung nearly to her waist. She had green eyes, very unusual for the tribe she came from. Most of her tribe had brown eyes, and it was considered good luck if a green-eyed individual showed up. She was short, but only a bit. Nevertheless, her brothers teased her about it.
It was late in the year, and would soon be winter. The tribe had stopped their travels for the year and set up a semipermanent camp in a medium-sized forest. Lyda often went for walks by herself.
She had heard warnings from the elder raets that it was dangerous to go out alone and unarmed, but she hadn't encountered anything more dangerous than a large raccoon with a bad temper. She had easily outrun it.
So she went alone and unarmed, not worrying. Her eldest brother, with whom she got along well despite his teasing about her height, occasionally accompanied her on her walks. His name was Gorl, he had white fur with patches of gray. He always carried a spear and a knife on these walks, which Lyda thought silly. She preferred being alone though, even to the company of her brother. This day happened to be sunny, with few clouds drifting in the sky. It was also unseasonably warm.
Lyda was alone, Gorl having been enlisted by their father to help fix the roof of their cabin. She sat down under a large tree, leaves crunching under her. She was near the edge of the forest, and could see the plains stretching out before her, all the way to the mountains. She wondered if dwarves lived in the mountains, and if human lands lay beyond them. She had never seen either race, though she understood they looked a bit like elves. Two elves, sisters, traveled with their tribe, and often told tales of their travels.
She closed her eyes and put her hands behind her head, leaning against the old tree. She had only meant to rest for a bit, but instead fell asleep.
She awoke to the sound of leaves crunching under feet. She sat up and looked around. It was sunset, and she silently cursed herself for falling asleep. Her parents were no doubt worried sick about her, and she would be severely reprimanded when she got home.
She suddenly forgot about the trouble she WOULD be in, and focused on the trouble she was in NOW. Four aslans, all males and hunters from the look of them, were not too far away, and they had seen her. She doubted she could outrun them; she was quick, but not that quick.
Aslans were a race not unlike raets, except instead of being part human and part mouse, they were part human and part cat. Naturally, the two races didn't get along.
They closed on her quickly, boxing her in against the big old oak. She backed up as far as she could, knowing she was most likely about to die.
One of them brandished a knife at her and said something in his native tongue, which was alien to Lyda. She didn't move, tears brimming in her eyes. One of the others said something, and the knife wielder grinned. So did the other three.
The one with the knife tucked his knife into his belt and straightened out of his fighting stance. The others kept their spears pointed at her.
The knife wielder stepped closer to her. She crouched down and held her arms up defensively, terrified.
The aslan turned his head and snapped at one of the others. The second spoke to her in her own language.
"He says to get on your knees." He said. His voice had an odd accent to it, and Lyda felt even more terrified than she had before.
She got up on her knees immediately, still huddled against the tree. Tears were flowing freely now, but she stayed silent for fear of angering her captors.
The leader leaned down and said something to her. He grinned and grabbed a double handful of her hair. It was not a comforting grin.
"Get down on your hands too." The translator said.
She did so, trembling with fright. She looked at the translator. "Please don't kill me." She said in a shaky voice.
The cat-man translated for his leader. The leader's grin broadened, and he spoke again.
"Do what we say and we won't have to." The translator said.
The leader still had her by the hair. He let go with one hand and took hold of her chin. He leaned in close and spoke again. "You're actually quite pretty, for a rat." The translator said.
Lyda stopped crying, at least momentarily. She had never considered herself pretty, though the males in her tribe did. She was quite surprised when she heard this.
The aslan suddenly pulled hard on her hair and spoke sharply. "Turn around and stay down." The translator said.
She did so, the aslan not releasing his grip on her hair. She was afraid of what they would do to her, but more afraid of what they would do if she didn't comply.
He grabbed her tail by the base, where it connected to her body, and lifted it, exposing her behind completely. He moved closer to her, and she could feel the tip of his erection touching her puckered hole. 'Oh, no, no, please no. This is the worst insult.' She thought. Only the least respected of females were mated with in this way. The gravity of the situation sank in all at once; she was about to lose her virginity, and not even to a member of her own species! The tears were now a constant stream.
There was a shout from one side. Lyda looked up and saw her father and Gorl. They were running toward her and the aslans, their weapons ready.
Her father had his sword, his pride and joy except for his children. He had gotten it from a human trader long before Lyda had been born. He was the best fighter in the tribe, and Lyda had always been proud of him. She now counted on him to save her life.
Gorl threw his spear and hit one of the aslans in the thigh. He drew his knife and continued closing. The three aslans with spears threw them at the approaching raets. Her father knocked two of them out of the way, but the third hit Gorl in the gut. Lyda felt as though she herself had been hit.
Gorl slowed only enough to pull out the spear, and closed the remaining distance less than a second behind their father. The aslan behind her barely had enough time to grab his knife and jump to his feet. Lyda's father swung his sword with both hands at the leader, whose knife was no match for the heavy blade. The aslan lost his hand, and less than a second afterward, his life.
Gorl, despite his injury, fought furiously to defend his only sister. He brought his knife down almost too quickly for Lyda to fallow, and a bright red line appeared across the chest of one of the aslans. He brought his knife back and drove it though his opponent's neck, and was sprayed by a gout of blood in return.
Their father had dispatched the leader, and was now engaged with the third aslan, the one Gorl had hit with his spear. He brought his sword down ina powerful blow that split his enemies' head from crown to chin. Another spray of blood, and her father was covered in it from head to waist. The fourth aslan had fled. They could see him sprinting across the plains, not looking back.
"Gorl, are you okay?" Their father asked.
"No." Gorl replied, looking down at the gaping wound. "I need a healer."
Lyda got to her feet. She had been sprayed with blood during the battle, and felt sick. She had never seen death like this before. Her father turned his attention to her. "We need to get back immediately. As soon as we get your brother taken care of, I want to talk to you."
He turned his attention back to Gorl. "Can you walk?"
"Yes. I think I can make it back."
They started back to their encampment, Lyda and their father helping keep Gorl in his feet. The sun set as they walked, and the moon rose. It was almost full, so they had no trouble finding their way back. It was past midnight when the got to the edge of the village.
They immediately went to the medicine man. He had Gorl lie down and immediately began working on him. Lyda's father put his hand on her shoulder and guided her out the door. They went to the river and cleaned themselves off.
They finished and went home. Her mother was still awake, but her two youngest brothers were asleep in their room. The cabin had four rooms: her parent's room, her room, her brothers' room, and the large room they were in now. Her father sent her to bed.
She went into her room, closing the door behind her. She curled up in her bed, which was really nothing more than a few thick blankets spread out on the ground and another rolled up for a pillow, and hugged her knees to her chest. She closed her eyes and cried silently, terrified that Gorl was going to die, and it would be her fault for being so stupid.
Her eyes quickly ran dry, but she continued crying for a long time. She could hear her parents talking in the other room, her father describing what had happened.
She hugged her knees tighter. She was supposed to be an adult, but right now she felt like a terrified little girl.
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