And so she continued, foraging for flotsam, stuffing her pockets to bursting.
The sun was hot overhead when she finally staggered back to her den. Exhausted and sore. Collapsing, she wrapped herself in a patchy fur blanket, one she’d managed to craft from the pelt of her first kill. Eyelids heavy.
But no matter how hard she tried, nor how bruised her muscles, sleep would not come.
Back aching, she tossed.
Skin hot and damp, she turned.
Uncomfortable.
“Fuck,” she hissed, and stripped off her jacket, bunching it beneath her head in the rough shape of a pillow. Breaking her personal rules in a fit of irritation, she was met with the ugly scars Hadim had left on her right arm. The raised edges still swollen and shiny with regrowth.
The pants went next, and for the first time since she’d been living in the wilds, she was nude.
And it was fuckingdivine.
“By the fires…” She groaned, shivering not because of the cool breeze caressing her skin, but the pure luxury of sensation. Smooth as silk, the inside of the pelt glided over her back. An all-encompassing hug when she snuggled deeper, wrapped herself in tighter.
She slept for a time, and it was dreamless. The sleep of the truly exhausted, she didn’t move for the better half of an hour. Didn’t so much as twitch or squirm.
Until the ache returned to her muscles. The frown between her brows growing deep. Ugly.
Her wristached. Throbbing, she flexed and twisted. Trying to shake the pain away.
A splintered moan leaked from her lips seconds before she was crawling from her bedding. Groggy. Disoriented. With her eyes squeezed shut, she began to pick through her meager supplies. Scouring through the things she’d gathered from the forest, she stopped only when her fingers came across something soft. Spongy without being wet.
She cooed high at the back of her throat, a soft smile stretching her lips. Thighs gliding together as she crawled back to her bed, placing the bit of mossjust so,beneath the back of her left wrist. She adjusted it over and over and over again, until she found the perfect angle. Exhaling a gusty breath of relief.
But it didn’t last.
The ache had seeped into the meat of her thigh, but she had the perfect thing for it…
It wasn’t until she was surrounded by a heap of various forest fluffs, her ears twitching restlessly, that she began to suspect. Not until the sun had already set that she grew suspicious of the pleasant hum of a job well done.
Cold sweat seeped into her hairline as realization dawned. Trembling, she moved the collection of feathers balanced over her forearm, fingers traveling down. Skating over the leaves speckling her hips, the blanket folded at precise right angles, and the legs of her pants.
Soaked.
Her pussy was swollen and wet, thighs slippery with lubricant. And worse, it was the sort of wet only a Hathorian could produce. That she’d never seen it before didn’t change the instant recognition.
Slick.
More viscous than her usual fluids, it was the mark of one born to serve, a walking womb meant to carry the next generation of soldiers. A lure for the dominant species that had turned her kind into incubators.
Forced evolution had cursed her kind to a lifetime on her back, legs splayed as copious fluids leaked out. Cunt stuffed and sealed by whichever male proved himself worthy of breeding rights. Not even an Anhur female could endure a true rut like an Omega could, for slick offered great endurance, even as it punished. Blurred the lines between pain and pleasure.
Where others would tear, slick gave a rutting Anhur male easy passage.
The girl moaned, playing in the wetness between her thighs. Oozing between her fingers.
Hadim had hated the mess. All the harem girls had been made to take vitamins and suppressors to keep their hormones from spiking out of control and ruining the bedsheets.
And as she glanced around at the thing she’d made, she began to understand what she’d done without realizing.
A nest.
Made in the absence of proper building supplies, perhaps, but it was recognizable nevertheless. The first she’d ever made, it was a shoddy thing dredged from ancient memory. Crafted entirely from detritus from the forest floor, and yet, she couldn’t deny the comfort it offered now that her nest was complete. That the wandering ache had left her in peace at last.
