This is a direct sequel to
A Night at the Dancing Dog Inn
, but it's also a direct sequel to
A Most Joyous Reunion
, both of which you can find by checking out my profile page. You don't have to have read either of them to enjoy this story, but if you're going to read all three you should probably read the other two before this one (in either order).
Also, fair warning on the kinks: this story contains lactation, lesbian sex, and a dickgirl who gets far less sex in this chapter than she would like. (But don't worry if you're into that, she'll get her dick wet in chapter 2.)
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Vasha awoke with a mouthful of snow.
What happened? Where was she? The last thing she remembered was following... something. What had she been following? It was snowing, and she was following something, and then...
She picked herself up, stumbled, and fell face-first in the snow once again. Cold. Why was it so cold? She was wearing her thick furs, which could keep off even the biting cold of a Thunderhead winter. This southern snow was downright warm in comparison. So why was she shivering?
She tried to stand again, pulling herself up on a nearby tree. Her head spun and she felt like she was going to vomit, though there was nothing in her stomach to bring up. She held back a retch and forced herself to stand.
Her head was all cloudy. Memories floated in and out of her mind, unbidden. She was back in the inn with the dancing dog on its sign, in the town with the great huge tree in its center. Now she was back home on the Thunderhead, the heavy, savory scent of rabbit stew thick in the air as her sire cooked for her and her mother. Now she was on a stony crag, covered in ice and snow, clutching her stomach- a mess of blood and torn flesh- sure that she was going to die.
But she hadn't died, had she? The thought fed the fire in her chest, and she made herself take a step, then another. There was a town nearby, she could remember someone telling her that now. Overlook, it was called. That was it. North. She'd been told to go north. She looked up to find the sun through the trees all around her. It was just above the treeline, scarcely above the horizon, but was that east or west? Was it dawn or dusk? She couldn't remember how long she'd been laying in the snow. In truth, she couldn't even remember laying down in the first place.
She took another step, then stopped to lean against a pine. There were spots on the edge of her vision, and a familiar pressure in her groin. Fumbling with her corded belt, she took her cock out and started to piss on the side of the tree.
The pain almost made her cry out. It felt like a swarm of angry hornets stinging her from the inside. She finished as quickly as she could and put her cock back in her pants. She remembered now. She was looking for a healer, because it hurt to piss. That was it.
And the blue woman! There was a woman with blue skin, out here in the forest. That's what she'd been following, hoping that she'd lead her to the town, but then Vasha's head had gone all wobbly and she had lost the trail. The sun had set by that point, so it must be morning now. That meant that the sun was in the east, so north was... that way.
She had a direction, and that was all she needed. Shivering and fighting back the churning of her stomach, Vasha put one foot in front of the other.
She wasn't entirely sure how long she walked, or how far. The throbbing in her head was slowly and steadily getting worse, and the spots were creeping inwards from the edge of her vision. She didn't feel cold anymore, but she was hungry. Very hungry, actually. When was the last time she had eaten? It had to have been more than a day ago, and that was only a rather small, thin rabbit that she'd managed to snare and some purple star-shaped berries she'd found growing on a bush. Game, it turned out, was scarce in this part of the world, and she'd never been much of a forager.
All the more reason to find that town. As she stumbled on, clutching her aching head in one hand, she started to grow warmer still, then outright hot. Vasha had seen folk die from the cold of her mountain home before. They always complained of being hot, just before they went to the other side. That was how you knew they were a lost cause. When they could feel the warm fires of the Mother Huntress's hall, they were already too close to her to bring back. That was when you left them.
And so it was a great relief when through the trees she spotted a great plume of steam. A hot spring. She wasn't dying then. Not yet.
The spring sprung from a bowl-shaped rock that jutted from the side of a steep hill that was crowned by a great white fir tree. From the rock, it flowed down in a steaming waterfall to the large, wide pool below it. Vasha was hungry, and her crotch still stung, but the warmth of the spring felt so wonderful after the biting cold. Perhaps a soak would do her good?
She was halfway out of her clothes before she noticed the bag- a rucksack made of leather, sitting in the mud next to the lower pool. She looked around and saw nobody. Somebody had just left it here, abandoned. What luck!
Next to the bag there was a long warhammer. Vasha was better suited to a spear, but the hammer was good steel, and well-made, from the looks of it. She could fetch a good price for that- since coming down from the mountain she'd discovered that even the smallest farming town usually had a blacksmith, and good steel could be melted down and used to make ploughs and hoes.
The rucksack had two pockets. She opened the smaller one first and found...
Books. Worthless piles of paper. She grunted and tossed those aside. Clothes of a strange cut, made of a light, thin fabric that Vasha had never seen before. Pretty, but far too small for her. She tossed those aside too. A metal rod about a handslength long with an odd bulge at the end. It appeared to be made of gold, which got Vasha excited- the smallfolk valued gold above all else- but she scratched it and discovered that it was just ordinary iron with some sort of golden paint over it. What was the point of such a thing?
The larger pocket was much more interesting, or at least, it contained more useful things. A length of hempen rope, flint and tinder, a box with little compartments inside, each filled with a different type of dried herb, and food. Food!
There was a lump of cheese wrapped in paper and a loaf of hard bread, both half-eaten, but Vasha laid into them anyway. The bread was gone in seconds, and she took great bites out of the cheese while she went through the last of the bag's contents: a lantern and a bottle of oil, a small knife, and a wooden member.
This last thing was pathetically, almost comically tiny. Was this what smallfolk men were like? If so, it was no wonder that the smallfolk women were starving for good sex wherever she went.
"Ai! Lokei zeze!?"
Several things happened all at once. Vasha grunted and jumped up to her feet, and caught just a glimpse of the naked, muscular woman leaping out of the upper pool of the hot spring before she was overcome by a sudden wave of dizziness and nausea. The woman ran at her, yelling something in a language that Vasha didn't recognize. Acting on instinct, Vasha tried to swing a fist at her, but the woman dodged under it and sidestepped around her, and Vasha realized too late that she'd overbalanced herself. She twisted to right herself and almost kept her feet, but at the last moment she slipped in the mud, fell backwards, and sat down hard on her own balls. The pain was so much that she cried out, collapsed on her side, and started to vomit in the mud, clutching her groin.
Now on the ground, she saw that the woman had slid to a halt next to the books that Vasha had tossed aside and was frantically trying to clean the mud off of one of them. She hadn't even been looking at Vasha, she realized. She'd been looking behind her, at the books.
Vasha, who had fought a bear with nothing but her fists and survived, who had hunted and thrived all her life in the harsh, unforgiving eternal winter of the Thunderhead, who had killed yetis and loved dozens of women, was brought low by some mud and a stranger who wasn't even trying to fight her. How pathetic.
There was another voice, shouting in a language that Vasha didn't recognize, and then a familiar blue face appeared over the edge of the upper pool.
"You!" Vasha cried.
She felt a hand on her forehead, a voice called out "Sleep!", and darkness overtook her.
---
There were voices. That was the first thing. They were talking, but Vasha couldn't make out the words. She opened her eyes and then quickly closed them again. Bright. Too bright. She tried again, much more slowly this time.
There was a blue blur to her right and a brown blur to her left. Both seemed unfathomably tall, towering over her.
"Vishana-lo vanize?"
said the brown blur.
"What? I don't understand you," was what Vasha tried to say, but all that came out was a sort of grunt. Her mouth felt like it was full of honey.
"Padlis i lange Shaliat? Noni?"
said the blue blur.
"What about Norðmol?" said the brown blur in Norðmol. It wasn't Vasha's first language, and her accent was strange, but she understood her.
"Norðmol! Yes, I speak Norðmol!" The blurs were becoming clearer now. The brown one was the muscular woman from before. She was wearing clothes now, a pair of leather leggings and a sort of cloth chest-wrap that wound over her shoulders but left her arms and midriff bare, and she had the most striking, vivid green eyes. The blue woman was not wearing clothes, and she had breasts that were among the largest Vasha had ever seen, even among her own people, as well as snow-white hair and tattoos that covered the entire length of both of her arms.
"You are lucky that Naala was more focused on her books than on fighting you," said the blue woman. She had a strange, lilting accent, stronger than and quite different from that of the other, as well as a warm, easy smile. "She would have won."
"I think she's sick," said green-eyes. "Did you see the spots on her back?"
"Aye, and it is known to me. I don't know the name of it in this tongue, but it is a sickness of the groin that spreads to the skin, and to the head. It makes you go funny in the head, makes you all dizzy, and it makes you throw up. That is why she fell down and left your bread in the mud."
"M'not sick," muttered Vasha. "Only smallfolk get sick. M'not a smallfolk."
"Does it hurt when you piss?"
