The Werewolf Order (Erotica)

Piers is the local animal healer and has taught Coral all he knows. While there is a healer for the people in the next town over, most come to Piers with their own ailments rather than bother with the travel. Coral knows how to cure all that commonly ails the livestock and for those that she is unable to heal, she knows how to provide them with a swift mercy killing. She can set a broken bone, though it is only done with the prize champions of flocks, and on several occasions she has helped Piers butcher animals for meat. He keeps a surprising amount of concoctions and medicines around the small house; for the past several years he has given the task of harvesting plants from the wild to Coral, and she almost always mixes the medicines alone now.

She is unsure how to respond to his comment; best case scenario for her, Tobias makes her an offer of marriage. She has no reason to refuse him: he is a handsome young man, wealthy, set to be the next Governor of their town. Her only reservations are that she does not love him-though she doesn’t know what that means. She has read the few written stories that circulate their village, speaking of beautiful women taken hostage by dragons, or trolls, or whatever monstrous creature, only to be rescued by a handsome knight. They fall in love and live happily ever after. She doesn’t think that is something she will have with Tobias. He will take her to his bed and mate with her when he wishes, but she knows that he will do that with other women too. She has never really thought about it much; all of her knowledge comes from seeing the sheep, cattle, goats and horses breed. It seems like a rather violent, unpleasant sort of affair, especially for the female and the only true purpose seems to be for the production of offspring. From the bits and pieces of knowledge the other girls her age have shared, it seems to be enjoyable for the man and that is why they do it even if they don’t want children.

Before their conversation progresses any further, there is a knock at the door.

“Come in,” Piers grumbles.

A boy, a few years younger than Coral, comes in, taking his floppy wool hat off when he enters, “Good day, Mr. Piers, Ms. Coral.”

“Hm,” grunts Piers, “what is it that you need, boy?”

“They… they’ve arrived. The Governor bid me to come fetch you-I think one of them is injured?”

“Ugh,” Piers makes a noise of distain, “is that so. I don’t know anything about those creatures and that damn Governor knows it. I suppose he expects me to fix it up?”

“I think that is the thought behind me fetching you, sir.”

Piers waves the boy off, “Tell him we will be there shortly.”

When the boy leaves, Piers shakes his head, “Foul beasts. I don’t like seeing them and I don’t want to touch one either.”

Coral finishes off her water, rising from the table, “Then I will do it.”

“You don’t know any more about them than I do, child,” he says, brows furrowed.

She squints at him, “I know what the last war cost us, what it still costs us. The last thing we need is some grumpy old shell of a man calling one of them a ‘foul beast.’ Besides, they are more like a horse than a man. You know I am good with the horses.”

He shakes his head, “All right, but I am going with you. Who knows what those beasts would do to an unescorted maiden.”

They journey to the large field just outside of the village; normally it is a quiet place where the cattle graze, but it has been cleared out for their use. They made short work of setting up their camp, several oxen drawn carts, mixed with large canvas tents form a circle around their central meeting area, shielding the majority of themselves from would be curious eyes. Centuries are posted about the perimeter, the tall, majestic creatures paying no mind to Piers and Coral as they make their way through the largest opening of the circle, between two large tents. The Governor stands next to a large black creature; the man, obviously nervous, attempts to make small talk. He resembles Tobias in a lot of ways, though he has about fifty more pounds clinging to his thick frame than his son, and his hair has long since started to thin. Compared to his companion, he is dressed rather elegantly, with polished black boots, black wool pants tucked into them and a crisp white shirt underneath a deep green vest and jacket.

The large creature standing beside him appears irritated at the man’s presence. His deep brown skin gleams in the sunlight, large muscular arms crossed over his defined chest, bare except for the leather harness and belt holding his weapons, a sword and several daggers. Though he has the face of a handsome, Moorish man, his long thick, coarse hair pulled back in uneven dreads, where his body should meet a pair of hips, it meets the chest of a horse, short shiny black fur extending down to thick legs, finished with hooves. The curve of his back extends out, black fur covering the rest of the horse body and hind legs, his black tail idly swishing back and forth.

Coral tries not to show her nervousness around the majestic creature. There is no love between the centaurs and humans; the great Battle that claimed her father was fought when the humans tried to wipe out the halflings, but it did not end in their favor, but rather a slaughter. With no choice but to surrender, the humans lost at a great cost. Knowing that there was nothing to prevent the centaurs from wiping them out for good, they came to an agreement; every three years, the centaurs would be paid reparations-food, wares and labor-in return for their continued peace. They take their cut, and while the humans complain about it behind their backs, Coral views it as being a fair share. She can recall two Atonements ago, when a drought had plagued their crops. The usual amount of reparation would have wiped the silo clean of grain, but instead of condemning the humans to death, the centaurs chose to take less food and more labor, ridding the village of a few criminals who were to be locked away for their crimes.

The large, black centaur, standing at least half a foot over the Governor, shifts his weight and uncrosses his arms when Piers and Coral arrive.

“Is this the healer you spoke of?” His deep voice cuts the air cleanly.

“Yes, Sir Rainer, this is the… healer,” the Governor says nervously.

“Tell me, gentleman, what is it that you heal?” Rainer asks.

Piers stuffs his hands into his coat pocket, “Ah, well I tend to the livestock in our village.”

“But,” the Governor scrambles, “Mr. Piers also treats the villagers as well; most go to him instead of venturing to the next town over.”

Rainer seems to frown, unappreciative of the man’s skills. He isn’t sure if he should be insulted that they sent a man who deals with animals, instead of a man who deals with humans. When his gaze turns upon Coral, his tail flicks, “And who is this maiden you bring with you?”

“This is my… apprentice, Sir. Rainer.” Piers fumbles over his words, “Ms. Coral.”

“A female apprentice,” Rainer’s face displays his disapproval, “to an animal healer? And you call us barbarians-that is hardly proper.”

All of the color leaves the Governor’s face when Piers laughs deep from his belly.

“You are right, master centaur, it is hardly proper, but she has a better gut for it than most men. And a kinder disposition, too.”

Still frowning, the centaur flicks his tail again before turning around, “Very well, follow me. You can leave us now, Governor.”This is property © of NôvelDrama.Org.

Piers follows the creature; Coral glances at the distain on the Governor’s face before leaves. Switching the large wooden case to her other hand, she leans the opposite way to counter its weight before she joins the men.

Their encampment is not what she has ever imagined it to be; there are just as many humans wandering about as there are centaurs. The humans all wear the thick leather gauntlets that mark them as centurion property, yet aside from that they all appear healthy and in relatively good spirits. They tend to the fires, chop wood, prepare food and do the wash, just as they would normally. None of them appear to be beaten or shackled, as the rumors that circulate amongst the humans her age have led her to believe.

Towards the back of the camp, there is a group of three male centaurs standing around, talking. As they walk upon them, Coral uses the opportunity to look over the beautiful creatures. The first is somewhat thick; this chest isn’t chiseled, his muscles hidden behind a layer of fat, yet despite his boyish features he appears to be barely thirty years. He has the beginnings of a beard, his messy brown hair is pulled up into a high bun, his brown hide glistening in the sunlight. Next to him, a centaur a little younger than herself stands. He is slender, no muscle nor fat, and couldn’t have grown facial hair if he tried. His loose black hair frames is face; he shifts his weight, though Coral can see him favoring one of his grey fur covered hind legs.

The third centaur is stunningly handsome; his sun-kissed skin outlines his muscular chest, dirty blonde hair a little disheveled as if he were working or playing. There is a shadow of stubble over his face, Coral guesses him to be only a little older than her. His body extends to a beautiful palomino hide, a matching blonde tail lazily flicking about. When his piercing blue eyes catch Coral staring at him, he stomps his front hoof. She quickly averts her gaze, feeling her cheeks burn red.