Will

Will took my head, making a show of soothing me as he led me off. "She knows her friends well enough," he said. "She's safe to me. But she had a hard life before I came to her. Look that the others don't disturb her; she's no fondness for men, and she'll show it."

"True enough," said John, shaking his head. "You'll not be troubled with any asking you to lend her."

Will led me off to the trees where they'd tethered the other horses. He looped the rope about a sapling and tied it off, but as he did he whispered to me.

"I'll be back as soon as I can. The others should leave you in peace. Now look," he said, and showed me how I was tied, and how I might tug the loose end with my teeth and free myself. It was good of him to think of it, yet I was nervous, and sorry when he left. To stand tethered in a camp full of men was agony to me.

It lasted all day. This John kept Will in counsel a long time. Their talk was all of the duke's forces and stratagems, for he sought hard to come at them. Will told all he'd seen at the ford, though concealing my part in it. Then others spoke, trying to guess this duke's intent. It was a long and weary talk, even broken once as it was with Will coming to take me to drink at a river nearby, and then giving me a measure of corn from his hands. He whispered to me as I licked up the grains, promising that he would come again as soon as he could – but a moment later John was calling him to counsel, and he must hurry back.

It was falling past dusk 'ere they had said all they would, and I had eaten the last tufts of grass within my reach, for I was under a stand of pine trees and their needles choked out the growth. I was thirsty, and tired of standing. Too, I was nervous, and more so with each passing hour. I was helpless here. I might loose myself, it was true – but I would still have the halter and the long line that dangled from it, that marked me as property and aided anyone who wished to catch me. I tried to doze but my uneasiness grew, with anger behind it that I was tied so long and left so helpless. I paced and tried to find a place to lay, but before I did I heard their approach.

It was Will. My heart leapt up, and for a moment I forgot my fright and frustration in the joy of seeing him. But it was not Will alone. There was a woman with him, one of the camp, and she had her arm twined in his. Her welcome for him was plain. I could not read his expression as he spoke.

"I must see to my horse, Jillian."

"It can wait, can't it?"

She ran a hand through his hair. I felt it then – something hot and angry, rising in me like rage. Will took her hand, putting it from him.

"And what will Tom say?"

She tossed her head. "Tom! You've been gone from us too long, Will, if you think I'm still taken with him." She stepped closer against him and touched her hand to his cheek as she raised her lips toward his. "Let me show you what I think of Tom."

I threw my head back and fought the rope, as witless as the horses that stood mute about me. I cannot say what was worse – the pain it gave me to see her cling to him, or the sting of my own humiliation. I knew what burned in my heart, what rage worked through me, and it shamed me to torment. It was madness; it was grotesque. What man could but laugh at it – the jealousy of a horse?

Will spoke. His words were low, and I could not hear them, but in the gathering dusk I saw her take his hand. He drew back and looked toward me. His eyes met mine, and I felt the hot ache of shame. I seized the rope as he'd shown me, and in a moment I was free. Behind me Will cried out, then begin to run after me, with Jillian calling to him. I plunged into the forest, my heart seething, and made my way from him as fast as I could.

I stopped by the river bank, my sides heaving. The water was broad, heavy with the flood that had driven the ford to its height. I could not guess how deep it was, or whether I had the strength to swim it. But all along the far bank it was thick with forest, black in the twilight and endless. It would take me. I shook my head, flailing the halter rope, then pinned it with my foot and bit it. It pricked my lips as I tore at the fibers. If I could gnaw it short, I would try the flood. If I crossed, good; if not, then at least there was an end to standing tethered like a dog, mocked for the fool I was.

I heard him. As he came through the bracken I spun and stamped my foot. I had no wish to hear his coaxing words – not now.

He stopped, raising his hands. His eyes darted swift, taking in the rope, the halter, the river. I saw it hurt him, but when he spoke it was low and gentle.

"I will take it from you, if you let me."

His kindness was more pain than spite could have been. He was kind as he would be to any poor beast. But I knew what burned in my heart for him, though I had striven to put it from me. I knew what bound me to him and made me do his will. I craved him even as I cringed at the thought of his derision. I longed for him while I prayed that he would never know what madness moved my brain. At last I could only stand, panting, and wait to be released. I would go. The river would take me.

Will took my halter. He slid his hand under my jaw, raised my nose to him, and kissed it. My heart leapt and wrung itself in agony. He leaned his head long against mine, standing there silent. Then he slipped loose the strap and drew the halter from me.

"I'll not keep you, if you wish to go." He spoke simply, his eyes meeting mine. Beast though I am, I could have wept, so torn with his touch and the image of him there in the darkness – close with his own kind, close with a woman. He threw the halter aside, took my chin in his hands, and kissed my nose, long and soft and gentle. I pressed to his lips, yielding up to him helplessly, and closed my eyes under this last touch. He was lost to me – lost amongst his own kind. Yet I stood close to his touch and closed my eyes, and wished never to know another moment.

"It would not be wrong, Shanglan, to love you." Will's voice was low and rough, and he closed his eyes as mine opened in surprise. He pressed his forehead to mine, his hands holding me to him, and his words shuddered through me.

"You think." He kissed, strong upon my nose but shaking. "You have a soul. I know it." His hands dug in my mane and he kissed again, and when he spoke his voice trembled.

"You saved my life, and near gave your own to do it. Who has ever loved me so, or shown it so well?"

I felt a hot, soft touch upon my cheek. He wept. No words came to me, even in my mind. I only leaned into him and felt him close against me as he whispered, half to himself.

"It is not wrong to love you."

He cradled my head to him, his hands soft on my muzzle. I closed my eyes in the heaven of his scent and did not dare even to breathe. At last he spoke again, and his voice was a whisper.

"Is it sin to want you?"

My legs scarce would bear me. His words ran through me like a fever. He drew back to look into my eyes, his own deep with pain. He was anguished with this burden. Yet his hands moved soft on my head and muzzle, stroking, soothing – rousing.

"Scent of you, Shanglan." He pressed his lips to my neck, drawing in a shaking breath, and his hands ran trembling down my shoulders. "Grace. Strength." He touched my legs and chest, his body pressed to mine. "Can I love these things, with a heart that loves me?" His voice dropped lower, shaking. "Can I want them?"

He kissed my muzzle, shuddering – and again, and again still, holding me to his lips and pressing to me kisses that grew stronger, fierce and wild. I took them with all my heart. At last he spoke again, with his breath warm against my skin.

"You have a soul, and a wit as fine as any man or woman. Will you take a companion from out the fields, a poor witless beast? Would that not be the sin, Shanglan? Would that not be the shame?"

His eyes met mine, and I shuddered in their wild light. When he touched his lips to my muzzle again I panted and groaned aloud – but I pressed to him, and his body touched my own. He kissed hungrily, all down my muzzle, and when he spoke, it was low, trembling, but certain.

"Will you have one who loves you in truth, and knows what you are?" His eyes held mine as he kissed once more, long, slow, soft and ... tender. My heart faltered.

"Will you have one who wants you?"

His hands touched upon my body, stirring trembling fire in me as his words sank in through my mind. Was I of my own kind? Was I of his? Would I join myself with my people, forever a slave, or seek a friend amongst men, who had always been my enemies? And would I, he asked – with his eyes, with his hands, with his low, fierce whisper – would I have him?

Yes. I groaned and pressed into his touch. His hands stroked upon my neck and chest, and he kissed and nuzzled my nose, his cropped beard brushing with a soft tickle. A moment later I felt a warm, soft stroke upon my muzzle. He touched with his tongue, a warm caress that made me ache until I could scarcely keep from crying out.

I closed my eyes. His lips and tongue nuzzled softly, and my will slid from me. My will, and all my long hatred of men, bursting and shivering like a band from around my heart. Will clung to my neck, kissing and soothing me as the exultation ran through me in a shudder. It was wild freedom, release from a durance that I had hardly known, it had grown so much a part of me. I had not known myself the truth of my loneliness, the depths of my pain at my enmity with the only race that could comprehend me, until that moment – when it was released. My heart opened, and I looked to Will. My pulse pounded yet, but I stroked my muzzle against his neck and then, softly, licked his skin.

He shuddered, closing his eyes and gripping his hands into fists, his body taut and his face wrought with powerful emotion. I lipped at his neck, browsing his skin that tasted of salt and his warm, strong scent. At last I believed. He felt what stirred in my own heart, a hot, restless turmoil, fear, anguish, and a power that drove all before it. His eyes opened and he took my muzzle in his hands. He kissed, fierce, wild, hungry kisses all along my skin. It was real. It was true.

"Come away," he gasped, tearing his lips from me. "Not here. They use it to water." He met my eyes, his voice low and deep with promise. "Come into the wood."

He came with me, close by my head, his touch never leaving my body. I nuzzled his hair, drawing in the scent of him. The touch of it roused me, sliding soft upon my lips, and Will – he leaned back into my caress and laid his head by mine, closing his eyes and stopping a long moment to draw his breath deep and shaking. We knew what we did. We knew why we sought the forest's shadow. And we longed for it, together.

In a dream we passed through brush and bracken, copse and glen, to the shelter of a long, dense thicket that swept in a curve toward the river. On the far side it cupped a hollow thick with welcoming darkness. We struck for it, and met in its shadow.

His lips touched mine, strange and stirring. Our bodies were never meant to meet thus, but his kisses drove a trembling heat through me as he nuzzled and licked softly at my mouth. I pressed close to his touch and he kissed me hard and hungrily, curving his fingers to rake down my jaw and rouse the flesh. He spoke low and intently, his eyes bright in the moonlight.

"Join with me, Shanglan, and gently. I swear you will have sweetness of it."

As he spoke he ran shaking hands down my muzzle, cupping the soft flesh. He kissed softly, looking deep into my eyes. I shivered to feel him touch there, and a moment later the stroke of his tongue upon the tender velvet of my skin. It was like nothing I had ever felt or thought to. Yet it was warm and welcome; it brought a tremble to my body and opened me to him like petals to the sun. Made bold, I nuzzled his lips and his curling beard, browsing them softly and trembling with the warm taste and scent of his flesh.

Then I touched my tongue to him, gently, though feeling clumsy next to the soft agility of his lips and fingers. He groaned, his hands digging tight into my mane, and lay his head back, taking my touch as I licked softly at his neck and cheek. He held my head to him as I nuzzled, then mouthed gently at my nose, a gesture as like my own browsing as he could make. He raised his eyes to mine shining, and I cast aside the last of my fear. In his eyes, warm with tenderness, deep with desire, I saw how he took it. We sought a thing unknown, strange and apart from either of our races. But we sought it gently and with good will – and we took its strangeness with its beauty.

He held my eyes for a long moment, then pulled his tunic from him. Men are shy in showing their bodies to one another, and I saw in the soft drop of his gaze how in this gesture he opened himself to me. I saw too, in the moonlight, how his shoulder was dark with a deep bruise where my teeth had gripped his flesh by the ford. I felt a pang. He watched me, a long moment unmoving, gazing steadily at me as if to see my thoughts. I reached out my nose to him and touched his shoulder as lightly as I could, my lips barely brushing his skin. He winced, more in anticipation than at my touch, and I licked gently just below the bruising. He smiled and touched the wound gingerly.

"'Tis something of a bruise. Yet it is my shoulder and not my neck, and that thanks to you." He laid a hand softly upon my nose. In his grateful touch I felt a depth of power – warm forgiveness, and more. Desire. He drew me to him and I brushed his chest with my lips, breathing in his scent and feeling the coarse curl of his hair. His touch spoke powerfully through me as I lipped softly, and as he closed his eyes he shivered. He put his arms around my head and clung to me, and I licked gently at his skin as he curled himself around me. His scent and taste were an intoxication; I felt a hot, trembling eagerness as he kissed at my brow and ears and his hands gripped into my mane. When he whispered once more, his voice was taut, low, and shaking with what he asked.

"Shanglan. Will you have me?"

I shuddered with his words and the desire they drove through me. Terrible though they were to any man, they were sweet to me. I rubbed hard against his chest with my nose, savoring the feel of his flesh against mine, and licked his belly softly. He gasped and clung to my head; I licked lower, and touched his breeches.

He groaned and trembled under my tongue as I lapped the worn leather. Then he raked his nails over my neck in a long, hard scratch that roused the flesh beneath, holding me to him as I licked again. I touched the hard twitch of him straining beneath his breeches, aching to the stroke of my tongue, and my blood raged wild. Then he pressed me gently back, and his eyes met mine long and steadily as he rid himself of the last of his clothing. He cast it aside in a drift of leaves and stood before me naked, strong, his limbs hard with muscle, his body alive to me.

I dropped my muzzle to him. He cried out and clung to me as I nuzzled there where he stood for me, hard, strong, and eager. When I tasted him he dug his hands trembling in my mane and swayed on his feet, and his soft gasps came to my ears in the warmth of his panting breath. I licked softly, long and slow, up the length of him that jumped and twitched and tasted of musk and maleness and his good, strong scent. He clung to my head, shaking, and his voice was half a sob as he moaned to me.

"Lay down, Shanglan. Lay down. Let me to you."

I let myself down to the leaves, then reached up and nuzzled again at his thighs and the coarser hair that grew thick and curling about his warm, heavy shaft. His hands gripped and dug trembling at my ears, my neck, and my mane as I tasted him, groaning with the good, hard feel of him under my tongue. At last, with a gasping cry that seemed torn from him, he pulled from me. He knelt down to kiss hungrily at my lips and muzzle, touching every line with his warm, strong, wild caress. Then with a long look into my eyes, he put his arms about my neck. He whispered softly in my ear – "Let me have you, Shanglan." Then he slid astride my body.

A hot, hard shudder drove through me, hungry and wild with his naked heat. He nuzzled my neck, his lips and tongue touching warm and eagerly, and I ached in response. I felt the warmth of him all along my length, the hard jut of his shaft as he pressed his body to mine. His legs closed about me, and his arms held tight to my neck as he buried his face against my mane. His weight settled full upon my back, and my heart leapt up in answer.

My rider. I shuddered with the feel of him naked upon me, his body moving against mine. In this yielding was a power like no other, a strength and soaring rapture as he twined his arms about me and spoke low, trembling words of tenderness. He felt no less than I how we took each other in the ways of our people, in what was most different and strange between us as well as that which joined us in our hearts. I submitted my body to his, trusting to his kindness and the care of his hands as he would trust to my strength and swiftness. I took him, my rider, then and always, and so he took me.

The power of it wrung us both and left me shuddering. He clung to my neck, taking the gift of my body, and kissed gently, letting hot tears touch my coat. He murmured his thanks into my ears, soft and low like the sounds of a brook, and lay long there, close and warm against my flesh. At last he stirred and whispered as he moved upon me.

"Let us be one."

I shivered, nervous to see how he would do it. But I longed to join with him, body to body, and I gave myself into his hands. He slid naked along me as he shifted lower, stroking his hands over my shoulders, my back, my flanks. He kissed and nuzzled all down my answering flesh as I turned to nose his hands, his legs, whatever of him I could reach. As he moved his touch grew stronger, more intent, more rousing to the blood that sang in me already. So strong was my hunger for him, so great my ache for his presence, that I felt no fear as his hands touched upon my tail – only a powerful desire that he touch, and touch again.

I threw my head back with a cry of pleasure as his hands found me. A man's hands – those tools of my torment, as ever they had been – who can begin to describe what use he put them to that night? He touched upon me in the most intimate fastness of my body, and there worked so gently that I could do no more than shudder, and cry out, and prostrate myself utterly to his touch. He knelt by my haunches where I lay upon the leaves, stroking my body, pressing his own against mine as his touch slid soft and sure within me. It woke in me a shuddering plea, a power that left me panting and aching, that moment, for speech – for words to cry out to him what he did to my body.

I pawed great furrows in the ground, digging my hooves for hunger into the earth as he pressed his fingers into my body and nuzzled with his lips at my haunches. My mind swam with the wild pulse of this touch that no member of my race could ever have brought me, and I tossed my head in helpless thrill as he sank his touch slowly into my body. As I gasped and panted he pressed deeper, his fingers twined together, his kisses dropping on my haunches like rain. Then slowly his lips sank lower, lower still, as I ached and trembled with sudden realization and shuddered, scarce able to breathe, as I saw his intent the instant before he acted upon it.

His lips touched me, soft and warm, where my body lay most tender to him – where his fingers stroked and caressed. No gesture I could make, no sound I could utter could ever give tongue to that sensation. I cried out helplessly as his hands stroked softly on my tail, drawing it aside, and he laid his body close by mine and nuzzled his lips gently to me. The jolt of it shuddered through my limbs, a hot power that seized my body and shook it helplessly in its grip. His tongue slid soft upon me, lapping gentle, a strange gift and a terrible sin to men, but a gift that only a man could give me. I stretched my limbs out taut, shuddering, as the soft stroke and dip of his tongue found me, circled, touched softly, and teased from my flesh an aching shudder that was nearly more than I could bear. I panted, the foam rising on my flanks, and moaned as his lips closed upon my flesh and sucked. He groaned as he gave me this pleasure, this thing entirely a man's, and he spoke softly as he lifted his lips and slid his fingers again in soft caress over my most intimate body.