Night of the Wood

Joran stretched with a grunt, carefully undoing the stiffness of a fourth night on the road. So far, his lord's direction--to travel lightly and quickly, with only Joran, the Scion, and one other Knight--had proven wise. Even after cutting through the woods several times to shorten the journey, they'd yet to encounter even a single monster. Which, Joran thought sourly, was probably for the best. Not for the first time, he cast a glance at Sir Blythe, the other Knight that had been sent. He was fit enough, true, but his village habits were still on him. He had fallen asleep on every watch and acted like the trip was a stroll rather than a mission of crucial political importance.

"Ay there, Joran!" Blythe tossed him a strip of dried meat, as well as a fruit. "Have you tried these? They're delicious!"

"You know," Joran examined the fruit carefully, "I can't say I have. Where did you find them?"

Blythe shrugged, juice dripping into his beard as he chewed into another fruit. "In the woods."

Joran threw the fruit aside. "Blythe. Do not eat things you don't recognize in the Wilds. Clear your camp, I will see to the Scion." He pretended not to hear the grumbling complaints in response and leaned down to shake the Scion awake. "Scion, we must begin traveling again."

"Hmm?" The Scion's eyes squinted around. The sound combined with his hair--flattened on either side into a chicken-like swoop--almost made Joran crack a smile. Almost. Instead, he gathered the Scion's belongings, confiscated the fruit Blythe attempted to share around again, and had the trio on the road in only twice the time he would've preferred it to take. He resolved to drive their group faster than usual, both to make up for the lost time and to prevent Blythe from gossiping.

That evening, as Blythe finished yet another ribald tale of his time before the Knighthood, Joran at least consoled himself that they had more than made up the time.

At this rate we'll easily make it to Lord Gareth's outpost by sundown tomorrow. From there, we can travel faster on the developed roads and arrive at his keep no more than two days after that.

He felt a rush of satisfaction at what had, so far, been an easy, albeit tedious, journey.

Lucky the spell that Witch cast makes me able to press on with less sleep. I'd have been useless with needing to cover half of Blythe's watches every night otherwise. Speaking of...

He finished concealing his sleeping roll, then walked over to his companions.

"And see, Sir, her dress was near falling off with how tight it was around the--"

Joran interrupted. "Sir Blythe. You will take the first watch. Please prepare your sleeping roll so that the Scion can sleep."

"Oh of course," Blythe waved a hand dismissively. "One more night in the so-called "wilds" before we're back to proper housing and hot meals. Maybe this time I'll even stay awake through the full watch!" He guffawed as he walked off to prepare his own sleeping area.

Some part of Joran felt it unfair to blame Sir Blythe for his attitude, nor for his general belief that the wilds were no longer dangerous. Despite that, the whole of him did blame him. He couldn't imagine Sir Blythe putting up much of a fight against a monster, especially if he fell asleep halfway into his watch again. Still, Joran resolved to be cordial in the manner of the courts. He would simply wake up halfway through Blythe's watch, as he had been so far, one last time.

The Scion yawned and began to lay down on his unconcealed sleeping roll. Joran tutted, stopped him, and hid the sleeping roll before gesturing the Scion back down. Within moments, the Scion had fallen deeply asleep. Joran stared skeptically down at him, wondering if the boy perhaps took after his mother instead of Joran's Lord.

Either way, I hope this alliance proves as helpful as my Lord expects it to be.

Behind him, a quiet noise. Joran whirled, blade drawn, to see Blythe hurriedly turning away. Joran frowned. "Did you hear something just now?"

"Mmf?" Blythe said as he chewed and swallowed something messily. "No, I didn't hear anything."

Joran knew that Blythe must have stashed some of that fruit. He also knew he must still be eating it. He also knew fighting about it would be useless. He'd just have to hope the fruit wasn't poisonous. Laying down in his sleeping roll without saying anything further, he focused on relaxing into sleep.

Exactly two and a half hours later, Joran's eyes snapped open. Instead of Blythe's gentle snores, he heard a wet noise accompanied by grunts. He grabbed his blade, silently extricating himself from his sleeping roll, and looked around.

At first, he had trouble understanding what he saw. Blythe's blade lay haphazardly over his left hand, which twitched helplessly in time with the grunting sounds. Joran felt a mix of surprise and shame at this evidence that Blythe had fought. Then, resolving himself to not shy away from this first test of his new strength, he really

looked

at the scene before him. Even in the low light of the stars, he could see three monsters surrounding Blythe. Even with their spiraled horns, furred legs, and hooved feet, they had a wild beauty to them. They each rippled with inhuman muscles that almost overcame their generous curves, both of which one was using to great effect to pin Blythe to the ground. With each drop of her enormous rump, she let out a soft, pleased grunt, leaving cream on Blythe's swollen rod. Blythe's eyes were rolled back, and drool gathered at his mouth. Joran was entranced, staring between the look of bliss on Blythe's face and the full lips of the monster riding him. He was so entranced that, when the other two monsters spotted him, he almost didn't notice.

The one on the left -- taller, but otherwise nearly a twin to the one riding Blythe, spoke. "Oy, goodie! We'd thought there were three of you, but this one wouldn't tell us where you were. Let's get to it then aye?"

That was all the warning Joran got before they were on him. His reaction time was fast enough to raise his blade, deflecting a heavy blow from the taller one, then her companion. He whirled, not quite pushing them back but not losing ground either. Each monster fought with an intense, focused strength, but just as clearly without any experience in combat. More than once, Joran was able to use one of the monsters' blows against the other. And in this fight, unlike his last disgrace, Joran found that his stamina exceeded theirs. After perhaps twenty minutes of this, they were panting, while Joran himself felt as energized as he had when they began.

The taller monster spoke again. "Oy, Penelope, maybe you take a break and help us with this one?"

Joran blinked.

Penelope?

The monster riding Blythe responded by moaning louder and riding Blythe faster. Joran could hear Blythe let out a strange gasp, followed by a loud wet squelching.

"Hmm, that's right," Penelope purred. "Let it all out for me handsome. It's a good thing you ate so much of that fruit we left for you, that will keep you nice and full for us."

Blythe moaned again, hands clutching at the air, and the squelching continued.

I told him not to eat those thrice-damned fruits!

Joran channeled his frustration into his next blow, cutting the shorter monster's arm to the bone.

"Shit, that hurt, you arse! Why d'you folk keep cutting us? To avoid a lay?! Forget this, I'll get dick at one of the farms like everyone else!" The shorter monster ran on all fours into the darkness of the deeper woods.

Joran furrowed his brow.

There are no farms anywhere near here.

Before he could process that any further, the taller monster charged him with her horns. Nimbly, he slid underneath and slashed at her knees with his blade. She bellowed, wounds already closing, and charged him again. Joran focused, swinging his blade towards her with more and more force. With a cry and a loud crack, she fell back, a piece of her horn falling to the ground. She shook her head, then ran for it, grabbing Penelope off Blythe on her way out.

"Wait! I wasn't done!" Her last word faded into the night as she vanished with her companion.

Joran listened and prowled the perimeter for any sign of additional foes. Finding none, he stowed his blade and went to check on the Scion. He found him wide awake, staring amazed at Joran.

"I've never seen anything like that, Sir Joran. You fight with a ferocity I've only heard tale of."

Joran demurred, his internal grin brightening even as he waved off the praise. With the Scion secured, he turned to the unpleasant task of checking on Blythe. Blythe was still twitching in pleasure, a sticky mess of monstrous juices and his own semen covering his manhood.

"The monsters have been driven off, Sir Blythe. That you fought and did not reveal us is to your credit. I do not see any injuries on you beyond some minor bruising -- can you stand?"

Blythe mumbled something.

"What's that?"

Blythe groaned as he regained some level of lucidity. "It's bigger...it's too big."

Joran glanced down at Blythe's swollen shaft and even more swollen sack. "I'm sure you'll be able to sleep it off, Sir. I'll get your bedroll and take the remaining watch."

Blythe's only response was a weak grunt. Joran draped him with the sleeping roll, not confident in his ability to put Blythe inside. Then, he stood watch, pushing away the memory of Penelope's ass rising and falling. Even with his focus, his own traitorously erect shaft took near an hour to fully retreat.

The next day, Joran cleared camp entirely on his own, pretending that he was unaware Blythe was pleasuring himself in the woods. It seemed that, at least so far, whatever the fruits had done to him was quite permanent. Throughout the rest of the day's travel, Blythe would excuse himself to vent his now excessive needs. Luckily, the Scion noticed nothing, fascinated as he was with questioning Joran about his personal history and combat prowess. Leaving out both the Witch and his time before Knighthood, Joran was happy to keep him entertained.

In the distance, the outpost shone in the fading light. Joran smiled. Even with Blythe's slower pace, they'd still managed to reach the outpost. The stamina spell had done exactly as advertised: given him the ability to fight the wilds on his own terms.

I'll need to thank the Witch properly when I return. Perhaps some of Lord Gareth's wine, or a book.

Blythe stumbled back onto the path and stared at his feet before speaking.

"Thank you, Sir Joran. For trying to do right by me. I reckon we wouldn't have made it here without you."

Joran nodded graciously. "Think nothing of it, Sir Blythe."

The Scion smiled. "I'll be glad to have a hot meal, to be sure. I do wonder if Lord Gareth's daughter is half as enchanting as those monsters, though." He started walking.

Joran stared at his back. He exchanged a look with Blythe, who shrugged. They walked after the Scion, towards the Outpost and the completion of their mission. Both tried to silence their feeling that the Scion was right to wonder.