The Best Medicine Ch 02

This story is a bit wordy and fairly long, so if you are looking for immediate gratification, you might want to look elsewhere.

The following story is a work of fiction. Any resemblance between these character and events and any real person or events is strictly coincidental . . . and pretty darn impressive seeing as it is a science fiction story. Do not reproduce or copy this story without the consent of the author.

In my magical, mixed-up world, characters don't worry about STDs or unwanted pregnancies except occasionally as a plot device. The author encourages the practice of safe (and hopefully satisfying) sex.

While this is a science-fiction story, it may at different points contain sexual behavior that might fall into other categories. You can rest assured however that there will be NO depictions of Non-Consent, Mind Control, or Incest for any purpose other than as plot devices, and certainly not for sexual arousal. Anything else is fair game.

The following story is based in the same world as "To Protect and Serve." While this series can stand alone, reading the afore mentioned series would be helpful.

Proofread by "Cristalball"

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The Shepherd was nervous. His plan to be reunited with his granddaughter had become more complicated than he had anticipated, though he should not have been surprised. He had after all effectively asked the most powerful lycanthrope in the world to arrange to have her kidnapped from her remote Alaska retreat in order to get her away from her uncle who had basically been filling her head with lies and mistruths for the last fifteen years. Yeah, that probably had something to do with it.

"You need to calm down," the Alpha said from across the table. "I just talked with Farmer yesterday. She's got things in hand. No one knows what route they took, and no one knows where they're going.

"King Tarrin will guess that I'm involved, but he may not guess the drop-off point. It's kind of a ridiculous place to try and go by land from Alaska. I won't head out there until the last possible moment since he'll be tracking my movements."

"You know, if you contacted her and convinced her to come of her own free will, all of this wouldn't be necessary. The King has only been able to rally the troops because it was a kidnapping."

"He's been whispering poison to her for fifteen years. She did personally return a couple of letters with her own magical seal, indicating that she did not want to talk to me. Of course, I'm not sure how she'll react to this --"

"Well I have some good news for you. It seems that the battle-dancer is on your side."

The Shepherd sat up straight. "Pardon?"

"She had a very brief conversation with Farmer where she indicated that she did NOT want the Princess to be returned to her uncle's 'care'. But Farmer also said that she thinks the battle-dancer is limited in what she can say or do because of some promise she made to someone."

"Her Word," the Shepherd muttered. "I'll bet my last coin that Tarrin made her give her Word on something. Probably threatened to reassign her. He doesn't even know that he can't, but he definitely could have made things difficult for Trina. We need to find out what she gave her Word about. How much do you trust Farmer?"

"Well --"

"Well what?"

"Well, she's a damn hyena. They're five beers short of a six-pack on their best days when it comes to sanity, but Farmer's got her own sense of honor, and she promised me she'd help. I'm going to owe her big time, but she'll help just because she finds it amusing."

"She needs to get Trina alone and establish a trust with her. She needs to find out what Trina's Word was, and exactly whom she gave it to."

"I thought you said she probably gave it to that rotten kid of yours."

"Not necessarily. Tarrin has grown arrogant. If he truly sees himself as the rightful king, then he may have made a classic blunder."

The Shepherd wrote a set of instructions down. The Alpha was confused by it all, but he trusted the Shepherd to know more about how elvish politics worked than he did.

"Do you think Farmer can do it?"

"Can she?" the Alpha replied. "Yes. How? I have no idea. But I guarantee you, it'll be weird."

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In the Yukon territory . . .

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Vanesse awoke to the sound of knocking on her door. She was still tired and already irritable. The hyenas down in the barn were apparently capable of sleeping through a natural disaster, such as . . . well, such as a pack of werehyenas. They were noisy even in sleep, with any member periodically letting out that erie cackle in place of a snore.

"What?!" she snarled.

Trina poked her head in, looking a bit pale and actually a bit bluish. "Farmer is up and wanting to get moving. She asked that I wake you and make sure you're ready to go."

"Farmer can kiss my royal ass," Vanesse muttered, covering her head with her pillow.

"I'll pass that along," the battle-dancer said with complete seriousness, then closed the door.

"Wait!" the Princess yelped, getting out of bed and hurrying towards the door, wrapped only in a sheet that had been provided by whoever their host was.

Trina opened the door, having expected something like this. She was refraining from smiling, but she also had to refrain from drawing a rapid breath. Even fresh out of bed with her hair mussed and her eyes slightly red, Vanesse was an exquisite vision. Her breasts pressed against the sheet, struggling to be free, and her nipples caused ever-so-slight tents to form in the off-white fabric. Her arms were so smooth and looked so soft --

"Yes?" Trina said, corralling her stray thoughts.

"Don't you dare EEK!" she shouted. It just occurred to her that she was standing in the doorway with nothing but Trina and a sheet blocking the appreciative views of thirty-plus werehyenas.

"Take it off!" someone shouted, while a few others started making the sounds of stereotypical porn flicks. Vanesse had no frame of reference for that music, but she had a feeling it was naughty somehow.

"All right clowns," Farmer shouted, sounding amused as always, "leave the 'lady' alone," she continued, putting big air quotes around "lady." "Besides, I think you're supposed to tip her on the stage to get her to take something off."

Vanesse straightened her spine, but was unable to stop from blushing. She did not know what Farmer meant, but she was sure it was not flattering.

"How's your back?" she asked calmly, getting a laugh out of the crowd. The previous evening, she had pushed the pack leader off the ledge, much to the delight of every onlooker.

"Excellent! I'd been having problems with it for a while. I figured you'd be the one to put your hands on me and straighten things out."

When Vanesse looked totally confused, Trina rolled her eyes, leaned over, and whispered something in the Princess's ear. Vanesse's eyes opened wide.

"Oh you . . . Augh!" she shouted, retreating further into the loft so that no one could see her. Trina joined her for a moment, had a conversation, then returned to the main room.

Farmer met the battle-dancer at the base of the ladder. "I like her."

"I can tell. You know, if you put gum in her hair or shoot spit balls, it would

really

show her how you feel," Trina replied, her face calm and collected.

Farmer guffawed. It seemed to Trina that the werehyena leader spent most of her days laughing at something or another.

"Sweet Jesus, you would've made a great packmate. Too bad you can't convert elves," Farmer wheezed, rubbing her eyes. "Okay, seriously though. Is Miss Priss ready to roll?"

"She should be. Believe it or not, the title of princess doesn't apply to her for how long it takes her to get ready, but she will need bathing facilities."

"Ain't any, so she'll just have to do without like the rest of us."

"I was wondering what that smell was. I thought maybe you had brought back an animal carcass and rolled around in it."

Farmer grinned. "I don't mind rolling with fresh meat," she said, looking up and down Trina's athletic body. She was a lover with a great many tastes, and Trina did look tasty.

"It's no wonder to see how why a bunch of smelly hyenas find you so charming," the battle-dancer replied, rolling her eyes. "And you probably want to find some kind of shower facilities at least. Otherwise . . . well, it won't be pleasant."

"You think I'm afraid of your Princess's wrath?"

"Remember how she would not talk at all yesterday?"

"Yeah. So?"

"It will be the exact opposite of that. She hates going without a bath, and she usually does it twice a day. Without even one . . . well, she will complain. And complain. And complain. It won't be fun or entertaining conversation. It will just be continuous, monotonous complaint after --"

"Okay, I get it! Jeez, she's a little taskmaster, isn't she?"

"Like a drill sergeant. And please, don't make a 'I'd like to drill her' joke right now, because I'd be forced to hurt you."

"Am I that obvious?"

"Would saying 'yes' hurt your feelings?"

"Yes."

"Then yes," Trina finished.

Farmer was laughing again. "Fine, there's a bunch of truck stops that have shower areas available. We'll stop at one of those, but that's the best she's getting. Deal?"

"Deal."

The werehyena matriarch looked over this elf again. "And later, you and I need to have a little conversation."

Suddenly, Trina was on her guard a bit. "About?"

"You know what about."

Trina looked up toward the door that Vanesse would be coming through at any moment. "I'm not sure that is a good idea."

"Good idea or no, I want to know what's going on."

"Don't we all," Trina said, her voice cold rather than indifferent.

Farmer looked her over and then stepped into the battle-dancer's personal space. There was no laughing now, but there was tension. The black woman's breasts were pushed against Trina's, but the elf was not about to back down.

"I have a lot of ways of getting information out of someone, so think very carefully about how you want to play this. I would much rather be your friend than your enemy, but I do have a job to do." And just like that, she turned away and headed over to talk to Jack.

Trina let out a breath very, very slowly. She had forgotten for a while that despite her jovial outer personality, Farmer was an incredibly dangerous predator. A new matriarch was crowned only when the old one was defeated in battle and driven out of the pack or killed. To do that and then to develop a pack this large and powerful, one that could cross the boundaries of the territorial lord with apparent impunity, meant that she was powerful indeed. Fighting a strong lycanthrope was difficult, but Trina had never faced anyone quite as dominant as this werehyena woman. The thought actually made her a little fearful, but she quickly suppressed the sensation. You did not show fear to creatures such as this if you wanted to survive.

The drive to the truck stop took about an hour, the going made slower by poor road conditions. If anything could be offered as concrete proof that the werehyenas were insane, it was the fact that they had no apparent issue with the idea of driving motorcycles in these conditions. The drive was also quiet. Farmer kept looking at the rear-view mirror, often to find Trina staring back at her with intentionally blank eyes.

Vanesse, for her part, realized that the tense silence had nothing to do with her this time, which was driving her curiosity up the wall, but she did not want to say anything and give Farmer the satisfaction of Vanesse starting a conversation. When they got to the truck stop and saw the set of shower stalls, however, the Princess decided she had something to say.

"You're kidding, right?"

"Your Highness, these are the only facilities that were readily available to us. We're not likely to find anything more suitable."

"In other words, deal with it," Farmer summarized. "You two can take the end stall for yourselves. Everyone else," she said, looking around the lot, "I expect you to behave yourselves. Will consider this our monthly cleaning --"

"Monthly?!" Vanesse gulped.

"-- so make sure to get those hard to reach spots under the fat rolls --"

The Princess fled down the hall.

"Wait, don't you want to hear about the toe-cheese removal?" Farmer shouted after her. "Honestly, you'd think she'd have more interest in proper grooming."

Trina followed her fleeing comrade to the last stall, which was large enough that there were three spouts and a place to put dry clothes. They had been given some money for the single-shot shampoo dispenser, but that (and soap) were about all the luxuries they had.

"But . . . but what about conditioner?" Vanesse muttered. "I need my Bed Head. You know I need my Bed Head."

Trina looked at the Princess closely. "Looks like you've already got it."

For the first time in a while, Vanesse laughed at Trina's joke. "I'm getting enough crap from her, I don't need it from you too."

"I have seniority on giving you crap. Farmer will just have to wait in line."

Vanesse smiled, then gave Trina a hug. "Sorry I've been cross. I've just been scared and confused."

"You have every right to be," the battle-dancer said. She paused, needing to say something to give her some time. "Your Highness --"

"Okay, stop with the formal titles. Even when I'm mad at you, it's creepy hearing you say them."

"Okay Vanesse. I just want . . . no, I need you to know that you can trust me. No matter what, you are my first priority. You always have been, you always will be."

"I . . . thank you," the Princess replied. "I just wish you had told . . . me." Her eyes opened wide, and Trina actually looked relieved. "Your Word. You didn't tell me certain things because you gave your Word. But why?" She realized that was a dumb question, and Trina made no move to respond. "Sorry, you probably can't say why any more than you can say what." She hugged the girl again. "I should've known. You've always been there for me. I'll bet you're trying to figure a way around it, so I'll just let it go. For now."

"Go ahead and shower," the battle-dancer said. "I'll stand guard."

"Oh don't be silly. There's plenty of room for two, and it's not like we haven't seen each other naked before. Who is going to attack me at a truck-stop when they have to go through a pack of naked werehyenas to do it?"

"Your logic is . . . disturbing. Still, I should remain vigilant."

"Don't be silly. You might as well shower at the same time, because you WILL be showering too, and would you rather me be waiting out here alone when you do?"

Trina actually saw logic to that statement, which probably meant that she was really tired and hallucinating. But she followed her friend inside and they both stripped. The stall actually seemed fairly well maintained, and the water was suitably warm to ease some of the aches and pains she had acquired in her first night of overwatch mode.

Unfortunately, it was hard to concentrate when she was naked in the same room with Vanesse. The Princess's unbelievable curves always made her feel self-conscious, and . . . well, it made her feel other things. She had managed to lose herself for a moment when the door behind her opened. Instantly, she grabbed one of her shoes from the nearby chair and hurled it at the intruder.

"Owh!" Farmer said as she was hit squarely in the forehead with a tennis shoe. "It's me!"

"I know," Trina said, her tone neutral. "That's why I didn't miss."

"How rude."

Trina glanced over and saw that Vanesse was staring. Why not? After all, Farmer was just standing there in all her glory, including the functional penis hanging lazily between her legs. Vanesse was trying not to stare with all the power in her being, and not just at that dark brown snake she had seen in action the night before. Farmer was a beautiful woman after all, and she always had a look of mischief about her that was enticing.

"I'm sure you have a reason for disturbing her Highness," Trina said, putting herself between the lycanthrope and her friend. She was not afraid that Farmer was here to hurt Vanesse, but she did not like how the werehyena was looking at the Princess.

"Just figured that there was an extra shower in here, and since we're trying to hurry this along that I'd join you two. Seeing as you've already seen ME naked,"

Farmer apparently enjoyed making Vanesse blush, because that was what she had just managed to do. Again.

"You were putting on a display in public. This is private," Trina said.

"Awh, what's the matter? Shy?"

"Trina, let it be," Vanesse said. "I'm almost done."

"She should show some respect," Trina replied, her voice becoming more and more frigid.

Farmer thought this a peculiar situation. Normally, Trina seemed like the more laid back of the two elves, but now she seemed to be wound very tight. "I promise not to look," the werehyena said, turning around and switching on the last shower.

While the werehyena stayed true to her word by keeping her eyes closed, Trina noticed Vanesse was doing plenty of looking. The Princess's eyes lingered on the tight backside and legs of their captor, occasionally glimpsing at the heavy tool that swayed between those legs. Even when she was toweling off and getting dressed, she was obviously fascinated.

"Like what you see?" Farmer said, her eyes still closed. She could smell that tell-tale signs of arousal, even over the soap and the steam.

Vanesse blushed a bit, then grinned evilly. On her way out, she walked over and turned off the hot water to Farmer's shower, then quickly exited as her victim howled with indignity as serious shrinkage occurred. Cold weather was one thing. Cold water on the genitalia was something else.

"Okay, that was just mean," Trina said as they exited the shower area to find Jack, Alani, and about a dozen freshly showered werehyenas waiting to make sure they did not make a run for it. "Guys, where would we go?" Trina asked exasperatedly. It's hundreds of miles to anything, and it's freezing outside. " She threw her hands up.

"You took out almost a fourth of the pack in hand-to-hand combat," Jack said. "With you, we don't take any chances."

Vanesse felt a small bit of jealousy. Why wasn't anyone afraid of her? Of course, Trina was the one who had been trained for forty years to be dangerous. But damn it, she was a necromancer, so she could . . . well . . . 'I don't know any useful combat magic at all,' she realized. That thought made her feel angry and helpless at the same time.

"Hey, are you allowed to talk about it?" Jack continued excitedly.

"Could you narrow 'it' down a bit?" Trina muttered, browsing through the beef jerky.

"You're training," Jack explained. "I've never seen a battle-dancer in action before, and it was amazing." He looked around at his fellow hyenas. "Of course, I wasn't one of the ones you busted up."

"Well, the day is still young," the battle-dancer replied. "Ooh, donuts." Then she noticed something. "Hey, why isn't everyone more . . . well, hurt?"

"Everyone shifted last night while you were sleeping. It takes care of most damage, assuming it wasn't caused by silver or fire."

Trina smiled. "Good to know."

"So can you talk about it?"

"You're more like a puppy than a hyena, did you know that? Why would I want to tell you anything about my fighting style?"

"Because it's wickedly cool! You don't have to show me anything, I'm just curious about the music."

Trina honored him with an arched eyebrow. "What about it?"

"Are you imagining a specific song when you fight, or is it just notes? Do you pick the song, or --"

"It's not like a radio station," she replied dryly, handing him some supplies, which consisted of peppered beef jerky, a 12-pack of Dr. Pepper, a dozen chocolate glazed donuts, a knitted hat with a maple leaf on the front, a pack of playing cards, a --