It’s a play on words, you see. This 1,000 word quickie is for mature readers only. It features a hunter and the price he must pay for hunting on sacred grounds. I hope everyone had a great Thanksgiving!
Hinnerk heaved the beast off his shoulders and threw its cold corpse on the ground. Its still shining black fur seemed to suck in the color from the fiery autumn leaves it had unsettled. Its fangs dripped red from where it had tasted of the hunter’s flesh, and threads of Hinnerk’s cloak twisted in its claws. It was not an easy kill.
He slumped down against a black tree trunk. He felt the coolness of the mist for the first time. The beast had traded him blow for blow. The wounds were deep, but it was his family who would truly suffer. It would take time to recover back to proper hunting shape, and they did not have time. What little crops they had had failed. Their stores would last barely a week, let alone all winter. Perhaps the beast won after all. Lost in his own thoughts, Hinnerk almost missed the glimmer between the trees.
“I’ve restored your precious balance, Suanach,” he spat out. “Now let me take my kill and be away from your damned woods.”
The wind brushed the shaggy hair away from his face. Small gusts brushed across his entire being, like invisible hands. Hinnerk was reminded of the way his mother would turn his head to examine the bruises he would get when the boys would play sparring in the fields. The hunter winced. His mother had passed the year before, another victim to the barren lands.
“You have performed for me a service, son of Seosamh,” said a voice that sounded like butterfly wings frozen in amber. Suanach paused, as if she had all the time in the world. “You are allowed the fruit of your hunt.”
The mist revealed the deer that Hinnerk had brought down the day before. There was little meat on its bones, but what was there would provide him and his family with stews and dried meat. Every little bit meant one more day of survival. Another day of huddling together around the fire, and telling stories about spring and sunshine. He had to get to that fire, first.
“I have lost my way, Green Woman.” Hinnerk labored through his words. It was going to be a longer trek home than he thought, and that was before he had to bring a deer with him. “I don’t know these lands. I beseech you. Show me my path home.”
“They are not your lands to know.” For only a moment, the hunter thought he saw the goddess made manifest before him. A flash of braided hair swept the earth in front of him. A crown of red and orange leaves adorned the unearthly beauty of her face. Then, her face was in the trees. Then, she was a thousand butterflies. Then, she wasn’t there. Just the soft reminder of the wind. “You are in my realm, son of Seosamh. Were it not for my intervention, you would never leave. You could spent thousands of years wandering my woods, watching me grow old and die only to be born anew.”
“We had a deal,” protested Hinnerk. He started to stand, but the pain brought him back down to his ass. He clutched at his side, the painful reminder of the beast burning red.
“We are now on equal footing,” Suanach explained, with reserves of patience that irritated the hunter to no end. “A kill for a kill. But we are not equals, mortal. Stay your tongue. I am not as capricious as my sisters. I only demand tribute.”
“I have nothing left to offer.”
A strong gust blew all around the hunter, and as the fallen leaves were swept up into the air, so was he. The frigid air reopened every scratch and cut on his body. As his blood dripped down to the earth far below, he wondered if he was ever going to see his simple cottage again. The wind carried him, across countless leagues, it seemed, until he could hear the sound of rushing water. The glass-like surface of a lake welcomed his approach, and he was swallowed up by its water.
Hinnerk was surprised to find that he was warm in that black void. He knew what was happening now, but he was not prepared for death. The approach of the black horse is a story everyone knew since they were babes, and it terrified him. He fought to swim to the surface, not knowing where it was, and in his struggle found that he was no longer wearing his leathers. He was stark nude, and his wounds had been healed. The scars remained, but he looked as if the fight for his life was months ago.
From the black depths of the lake came not the black horse, but Suanach herself. The hunter could not help but gasp, and found he could breathe perfectly well. Her braids trailed out below her and around them with impossible lengths. The Green Woman, whose skin was like bark and whose eyes were the color of a moonlit sky, swam up to where he was and stopped short at his loins.
“You have proven yourself to be a competent guardian, son of Seosamh.” Suanach spoke without moving her lips. Her voice surrounded them, coming and going in waves. “You have one son, this I know, but that will be all the sires you will bring into this world. The rest of them are mine. They will protect my realm, but they will bear your face.”
Suanach opened her lips and took in Hinnerk’s cock. He resisted at first, but her mouth felt like the beauty of creation. All at once, he knew what it felt like for flowers to open, for leaves to turn from green to brown, and for snow to melt. Hinnerk went from soft to hard in her mouth, and Suanach pulled his hips closer to her maw to take in his entire length. Her braids caressed the scars on his body, as they did when they were wind, and as they did when they were time itself. Every touch from her was healing.
The feeling of Suanach’s divine tongue on his cock slowly coaxed his seed in the way only the immortal, patient goddess could. He lasted but a moment, but his orgasm lasted longer than he could perceive. He couldn’t stop. His pleasure escaped from him in powerful bursts, one after the other, after the other. Suanach swallowed every drop. Lifetimes passed. The moon whirled through every one of its faces, and the stars blinked out one by one. Then, all was black.
Hinnerk awoke to find himself on the ground, his deer next to him, and a clear path in front of him, devoid of the mist.
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