War Of The Races Ch 25

(Dear Readers,

If you're a new reader, I suggest you stop and start at the beginning. If you aren't new, awesome!

Well, it is hard to believe that Chapter 1 of War of the Races was published December 12, 2020. It has been a whole year and 35... I mean 25... chapters later, and War of the Races has been very well received..

Thank you. Thank you so much for your reading, and favorites, and stars. I am so very happy that you are all enjoying my story. A good story is only that unless there are those that enjoy reading it. So thank you so very much!

So what is coming up this next year?

I will be carrying some of my other stories further, Azerorthian Dream, My Crazy..., Rose House, and Family Garden. As for War of the Races; two maybe three chapters will wrap up Viridian, Glenna, and Huxian's adventure into the Dragonspine before their meeting the svaralf forces.

Huxian has gone into labor and is giving birth, and I think it will be interesting to find out what the ramifications of that is going to mean for Virdy... and the world. With the conclusion of this part of the adventure, the next will take us all back into the depths of Idavollr and a spider web of intrigue as they search for the Oracle of Arachne.

I look forward to the telling I think almost as much as you look forward to the reading. Again, thank you for a wonderfully successful year, and thank you Literotica for putting up with me, and seeing that most of the chapters where published in a timely manner.

Until next year, please be safe. -Pinkender)

Chapter 25- Where the Wild One roams

Hlina woke up the next morning to harpies and avian singing in the distance. Those were always beautiful songs. Enchanting in a way that made her want to listen, and often had her feet moving her towards their song before she knew it. It was even more so to men especially, her mother had said. She didn't understand it, but she accepted it.

It was nice having a blanket again. It had been a long time since she slept with anything but her and her mother's hair to cover them as they clung to each other for warmth during the night. Winter has been especially hard to endure.

Standing up, she wrapped the blanket around her body, under her arms, and twisted the corner end into the fabric beneath her armpit. It would be nice to wear clothing again too. She hadn't worn clothing for ten years now, not since she was human in her previous life, or whatever she should call it. Her consciousness being ripped out of her body and transferred to another world and into a man's seed to impregnate her mother and then to being born again.

It was odd though, she looked forward to wearing clothing again, but she also was used to not wearing clothes as well. She had survived all these years without a stitch of clothing. It was certainly a nice commodity to have, but she knew from experience that she didn't need it. She was secure and confident in herself, and in her own skin. Still, it was nice to wear something besides her own skin... from time to time.

Walking back to the camp of her mother's murderers, she found them still laying where they died. In the light of day, with her initial anger subsided, the shock of what she had done hit her. She stared at the two men still in their tents, and the last in the middle of the camp. She hadn't ever killed before. Ever! And now she has killed three men!

Blood stained the ground where their lives drained out of them. The earth was thirsty, and it drunk up everything leaving only a scarlet stain as a memory of what had transpired. A memory that she must live with now!

Stumbling to a tree she puked loudly...

When she was done, she wiped her mouth, and then searched the camp for a canteen. She found three. Washing her mouth out, she gargled, and then spit. Investigating further revealed three traveling packs. Pulling them to the center of the camp she upended them spilling their contents onto the ground and began rummaging through it all. Her father had been a hunter before he died, her first father from her other life. Robert Daniel Reas loved the outdoors, and he had taken his wife and daughter on many camping and hunting trips. He had often said that they may live in the Nuclear Age but should the worst happen and the Commies decided to start World War III, then it would be good to know how to survive by hunting and fishing in the wild, that is, if anyone survived. Her mother had just smiled and nodded, but Helena didn't care what the excuse was as long as she got to go camping and hunting too!

Looking through the items that looked so similar to what she knew from her previous life, she started packing it all away again, this time all of it in a single pack. Once the pack was full and all the items were secured, she lifted the it to her slim ten year old shoulders and walked back to the tree she spent the night sleeping under and slipped it off. It was heavy, but she would be able to hike it back to her cave without much trouble.

Returning to the camp she set the two empty packs across a log, rolled up next the fire pit the day before, then turned her attention to the tents. Two tents were made of green dyed leather laid over and tied to well made, triangular, wooden frames. The third tent, Jannic's tent, was made of thick canvas tied to a wooden frame on the outside unlike the others. They were simple. Rudimentary. Easily assembled and just as easily disassembled and packed away. Untying ropes holding leather or canvas to frames, she dismantled them. Pulling back the oiled, green leather revealed two dead men. She didn't even know their names, and yet, she had killed them while they slept. Murderers and rapists, they deserved what they got!

Approaching them hesitantly at first, not wanting to touch them, she made a quick albeit thorough search of their pockets. A few minutes later she looked down at her hands. Three dirty handkerchiefs, six gold coins, three pocket knives, two silver lighters, and three keys. To what, she couldn't imagine. Maybe they were house keys like she had possessed in her former life. That was all that they had on their persons.

Examining their clothes more closely, they wore dark-brown pants with green, blue, and pale cream shirts, and thick leather belts. All three shirts were ruined and blood stained. Their pants were in good condition but she hesitated to take them. All three men had well made brown leather boots. Two pairs were knee high pull-on's, and the third pair were lace up thigh-highs. They were all too big for her now, but she might grow into the knee-high boots and the thigh-highs later on. Both men's feet they had come from were rather short and lithe with small feet. Only Jannic had been a bear of a man standing what she thought might be well over six feet tall and with a weight close to two-hundred and fifty pounds.

It was a good thing she had surprised him and stabbed him right off. Otherwise, he would have overpowered her easily, and her fate would probably have been her mothers, minus the killing. At least, until he grew bored of raping her.

She decided that their pants would have been good to have, especially the smaller men's pants that she would grow into in the next few seasons. She hadn't worn pants, or any clothing since birth and part of her craved the caress of clothing, but then, she didn't want their pants enough to try getting them off of them. Instead she pulled their belts out of their belt loops. One belt had a square silver buckle with a large turquoise set in the center, and the other an oval buckle with gold rope work and a large cat's-eye stone set in the center, and Jannic's was buckle was set with sapphires and etched with Celtic rope work and runes. After the belts, she moved down and pulled off their boots.

She gathered up three cloaks and sword belts, and then matched swords to scabbards after cleaning the blood off of the two she used to kill the men. After the swords there were three daggers, three strange pistols, the skinning and gutting knife she killed the first man with, and a hatchet.

Of the leather tent covers she rolled up, one was ruined as a whole, but she was sure she could make use of it somehow. Of the blankets, one was wrapped around her body, the other two were still beneath two dead men. Those might be ruined by blood, but they might be recoverable if she washed them well enough.

Taking the tent rolls and the items she had taken from the bodies, she returned to the traveling packs and loaded it all inside before tying the frames to the bottom. Looking up at the small chipmunk, that had been only four feet tall or so when alive, still hanging from the tree. She contemplated her belly and the gnawing pain of hunger she felt. She hadn't eaten since early the day before. She had been so grief stricken by her mother's murder and enraged she hadn't so much as noticed her hunger, and then after killing those murderers she had been too exhausted physically and emotionally. Now, she felt like she might swoon if she didn't eat soon.

If cooked and salted properly, that chipmunk would feed her for a long time. With a sigh, she lifted the second pack up onto her shoulders and took it out to where she hid the first.

Once she returned, her gaze fell on the smoldering coals that littered the fire pit. Using the hatchet, she left and gathered enough wood to keep the fire burning almost all day, and then she rekindled the fire. She let it burn high and hot and build a good bed of coals. In the meantime she pulled what remained of the thigh and lower leg off the spit before slicing off chunks of meat. Without thinking of how human that chipmunk appeared, she set to eating with a purpose. Soon she felt full, and with it her strength returning.

Next, she started the grim task of dismantling the chipmunk carcass appropriately. This was not something Alvas taught her. This she remembered from her previous life. Of her father taking her hunting. Of her first kill. A small doe, and of her father standing back and watching her as she field-dressed the small animal. Disgusted, she glared at Jannic, no doubt these good for nothing men would have left the rest of the poor Animal to just hang there and rot, wasting her death... her sacrifice, for a single meal.

She puked when she cut the chipmunks head from her neck, and puked again when she found furry hide with entrails on top, and then gagged as she cut off the hands. She had nothing left to puke up. It was just as well. She tried to remove anything... everything... that made the chipmunk appear humanoid, and then she took it out and buried it all beneath a tree. Lowering her head over the grave, she gave thanks for the food the little chipmunk was providing, and then returned to her work.

She tried to not think of the carcass she was butchering as having once been a sentient, loving, caring person. Or, so she thought. So she imagined. She hadn't ever seen or met a living Animal when she was a baby. It made what she had to do now a little easier. But the fact that it was humanoid made her imagination run wild with possibilities.

Neck and shoulders first. Next, pectoral muscles and shoulder blades. Everything that connected the arms to the body. Lower arms and upper arms, cut away at the elbow and then at the shoulder. In her mind they were hock and trotters, or really big chicken wings. Add salt, skewer the meat, set on the fire, and wait. She had to use the hatchet to hack ribs from spine and sternum. Two full racks. They weren't humanoid at all!

The belly, tenderloin, loin, and fat back were next. It was an animal. Just another animal! Why couldn't she stop crying?

Even with one leg missing she couldn't look at the pelvis and the remaining leg and buttock and not know what she was cutting up. Running to a tree she threw up. When she returned, she felt numb as she cut through the thick layers of muscle that had made a small shapely chipmunk woman's buttocks. She couldn't deceive herself into thinking of it as a ham. With grim determination she finished. Tenderly she walked the meat over to lay on a blanket beside various other parts awaiting cooking.

When she returned, she cut through the tendons until the pelvis fell to the ground. She was almost done, she growled to herself as a mantra. The thigh came away from the rest of the leg at the knee, and then the last bit of the lower leg was severed from the foot. If she never had to do this again she would be happy!

It was almost dark by the time she was done cooking all the meat. The whole day had passed by, and she ached to return home. To return to her mother. Not that she was looking forward to burying her, but it needed to be done. Her mother deserved better from life than what she got. The least she could do was bury her properly. The only reason she hadn't was because at first she was in a fury and she didn't want the killers to escape, and after seeing the little chipmunk she knew Alvas would have been ashamed of her if she left the poor Animal to rot. If she didn't hold to the values her mother taught her, then the chipmunk's death wouldn't be the only death that would not have served a purpose.

She thought for a while about how to pack and carry the meat back to her cave. Finally she decided to use one of the oiled cloaks, Jannic's she thought it was, to line the traveler's pack before loading the meat into it. Once done she looked around the camp and began tidying up. By the time the fire burned down to ash the camp was clean except for three dead men, one with the pelvis of a chipmunk on his chest.

Looking down at herself, she shook her head. Having the blanket wrapped around her body had reminded her of the feeling of clothes and the security they imparted, whether real or an illusion. However, she took it off when she started butchering, and now she was covered in blood smeared across her body, and mixed with ash. She wouldn't put the blanket back on until she bathed. So naked and tired from a hard day's work, she pulled the pack up onto her shoulders and set out for a small cave she thought of as home.

It was the better part of a day's journey back the way she had come and now she must make the trek in the dark. She would make it home. She would. She had to!

In a few days, after she buried her mother, she would be back for everything she salvaged from these murderers. She was alone now. She would have to do whatever she had to, to survive. She had to!

All she has now was a faint glimmering hope of one day finding Daniel...

----(!)----

"Mama," Hlina said as she knelt in front of a large rock propped upright under a large tree.

On its flat surface was written with her own finger, in the only language she knew how to write, English. It read: Alvas. Beloved mother. Gave up everything to save her daughter, then later gave her life to save her again by not calling out while being raped and murdered.

"Mama, I'm sorry. It's been six years since you were taken from me," She sobbed, tears pouring down her face to her chin where they fell to her thick dark-brown thighs, "I can't take the loneliness anymore! I'm leaving this place, I'm sorry! I'm going to try to find somebody, anybody... I love you mama... I will come back and visit, I promise!"

Hlina stood up from sitting on her haunches and wiped her tears from her face and thighs. A silver waist chain shifted on her wrist. It had been her mother's. A symbol for any of her people who saw her that she had been a mother. Now, it was her only connection to Alvas.

She was sixteen now. With no calendar she was reduced to tracking seasons and moons. This was the fourteenth spring since her mother found this cave. She had grown a lot in the last six years. Her black hair was still almost long enough to touch the ground, and did any time she crouched, knelt, or sat. She was always pulling straw or small twigs out of it. When she stood her long curly locks nearly reached her ankles. It was a full time job keeping it from being a completely tangled mess, but was still her best and most consistent clothing, and it was warm.

She stood taller than her mother had been now. She thought a full head taller, but she couldn't be sure. Aside from her height, her black hair, and eyes that gleamed like polished bronzite, she looked very much like her mother with a small wide nose, an overly plump almost too wide mouth, a sharp angular jaw that ended in a small pointed chin, and long alfari ears that stuck out over her shoulders and twitched to track the sounds of the forest and drooped or rose with her moods. She had a long delicate neck, her mother slim shoulders, slight chest, breasts that had never really developed much to Hlina's chagrin, and a long waist that seemed impossibly slim when compared to her hips and buttocks.

She felt like she was the amalgamation of two different people. Her top-half long and willowy while her bottom-half was thick and curvy. Her hips were much broader than her shoulders. Much! While her ass was so thick and round she found herself always brushing against things. Trees, rocks, and such. Inside her cave she was always knocking things over. She seemed to always overcompensate or undercompensate for how wide her hips were.

She just hated how it seemed that her ass was so large!

Not that it was fat, she didn't have an ounce of fat on her body. Being perpetually on the cusp of starvation did that!

Below her gargantuan hips and ass, her thighs were also thick, as well as her calves and ankles. She liked her feet though. They were small and square with high arches with short stubby toes. Her legs also redeemed her ass and hips to some extent. Although thick they had very elegant curves, from her crotch and hip to knee, and from knee to calf to ankle, and they were so long. Thank god!

It had lent to becoming a very fast runner, which she grudgingly admitted was because she had no breasts. She remembered trying to run in her previous life. She had been as fast as the wind, all the way up until she turned fourteen and her breasts finally became too large to run with. By fifteen she wouldn't run anymore unless she absolutely had to. No girl should have to contend with double-D's and F-cup breasts at fifteen. Now with not much more than A's she found she missed having larger breasts. Not that she wanted double-D's, but nice B's or C's would have been welcome.

Brushing pine needles and dirt almost as dark as her skin from her knees, she righted a small leather wrap she had made from tent hides. Pushing it down to cover hips and bum correctly, she fiddled with the wooden toggle to make sure it was secure.

It had been tricky, learning how to make clothing. She had ruined half of a seven-by-ten foot long roll of leather hide trying to make panties, bra, and dress. She gave up on it until the following winter came, and then she really became ingenuitive. Using a blanket, the second leather hide, and the skinning knife, she cut insulated wrappings for her arms and legs, and leather sleeves and chaps. The sleeves were all cut from one piece of leather. The chaps came up to her hips and she used a belt to hold them up. Down her arms and legs wooden toggles fastened the leather together keeping her arms and legs warm.

Once she had use of toggles and down to a science, making sure her cuts in the leather were small but just large enough to interlock and fit a toggle through, then she took a second blanket she cut in half and used the rest of her one good roll of leather and made an insulated leather skirt that fell to her calves. It rode on her hips and was held together by toggles. One on the hip and three more all the way down her knees. Of what remained of the blanket she made a poncho from and then did the same with what remained of the leather, and then used a second belt to buckle it snuggly around her ribs. To keep her feet from freezing in the winter snows, she used the three men's socks and boots.