Editor's note: this work contains scenes of fictional rough, reluctant, dubiously consensual, consensually non-consensual (CNC), or non-consensual sex or scenarios.
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Leif sighed and rolled over on his side, in the meadow, he was alone for now and in wolf form. But, that was how he liked it. The abandoned gas station/squatters camp was where he'd been spending his time, in this century, while not traveling back and forth between the werewolf packs he looked after. This meadow had ancient magic that dated back to the dawn of time. The grove of trees, on the meadow, was nearly as old as him. The afternoon sun was warm and he continued to bask in it.
For the most part, Leif liked to be alone. It gave him time to think, not that time was something he needed. He was immortal, older than the werewolves he looked after could imagine. Sometimes, even he couldn't believe how ancient he was. He was basking in the sun, just like most days, when he heard it. Little mews, of something or someone in pain was coming from the muddy and steep embankment. The forest grove had grown in the dawn of time, it contained the words spoken at the beginning of the world and was home to some very powerful magic. It had taken something very powerful to enter the grove. Comfortable in his sunny spot, but knowing he ultimately had no choice, Leif yawned. He got up from his sunny resting spot and went to investigate the curious sounds.
Down in the dark valley, tears stung her eyes, and her head pounded as her blood rushed into it, the sound reverberating in her ears. She whimpered a tiny, animalistic sound of agony, muffled by the duct tape stuck across her mouth. Whomever he'd been, He'd duct taped her wrists and ankles, too, but she'd lost sensation in her extremities hours ago. Perhaps, days.
Desperate for fresh air, she tried to breathe through her nose, feeling as though she couldn't take in enough air, and as her had abdomen bounced on his shoulder her stomach boiled in reaction to the pain that percolated throughout her bruised and aching body. She longed to heave violently, but even the luxury of vomiting was denied her for she knew that with her mouth sealed, she'd only suffocate to death.
Bitter tears filled her eyes again and she cried in misery yet again. Who wouldn't when your underwear were soiled with own blood, your arms and legs tightly bound, and your captor and rapist grunted but said nothing else as he tossed you like a sack of garbage down a strange rocky ravine.
She didn't know how long it took her to wake up after she'd hit her head on the stone at the bottom of the cliff. She only knew she was still in lots of pain and she'd lost time...perhaps a day...or even two?
