Source JSON

{
  "_format": "download_manifest_v2",
  "api_blob_sha512": "74932e23cdcd118f29208a7af12ca8fabd5f45afb99bd3498558adffd18f9659d2dffd7809ae152099bef2c1f5736f1d50ca2c82f1e04a211b4db03c976d716b",
  "artifacts": [
    {
      "blob_sha512": "0874c68e994adf1c5b72d7b981bea2cee39e2bcde909088737f2fe9630c34650e7608a2cbbbdcec0345a69fc8874654501c2de4721d0aecf685f03f6cf8d5180",
      "path": "/mnt/data/img-downloader/export/inkbunny.net/Artists/BrunoHirschkoff/3852878_5980107_BrunoHirschkoff_bh_cr_ch2_edit.doc"
    },
    {
      "blob_sha512": "74932e23cdcd118f29208a7af12ca8fabd5f45afb99bd3498558adffd18f9659d2dffd7809ae152099bef2c1f5736f1d50ca2c82f1e04a211b4db03c976d716b",
      "path": "/mnt/data/img-downloader/export/inkbunny.net/Artists/BrunoHirschkoff/3852878_5980107_BrunoHirschkoff_bh_cr_ch2_edit.api.json"
    },
    {
      "blob_sha512": "6a839f8d2a78aef0308c086581da9d7bd42ebcd9144cef270a3b81ade5c1f532f51ead662c33d4974d980b2535e5c32640e5a3c7c1c0849e309689cc7cea04c2",
      "path": "/mnt/data/img-downloader/export/inkbunny.net/Artists/BrunoHirschkoff/3852878_5980107_BrunoHirschkoff_bh_cr_ch2_edit.description.json"
    },
    {
      "blob_sha512": "754e4fa65600e90602868c74918ab93e58ddb787e6ef326bef210a48602b66a44be3ca383cb777dba4f3dd8a6104597e784d2b89c2a415ae3ec05c4d6227fbaf",
      "path": "/mnt/data/img-downloader/export/inkbunny.net/Artists/BrunoHirschkoff/3852878_5980107_BrunoHirschkoff_bh_cr_ch2_edit.writing.json"
    },
    {
      "blob_sha512": "34f7db040b0f48c2e2bc6fc98be91bf12eb96cd88d62669c30674f5afdceb5caa97479622227ca08de00d095ffa8ee3078832c55d4857761e8967e3e358ef118",
      "path": "/mnt/data/img-downloader/export/inkbunny.net/Artists/BrunoHirschkoff/profile.api.json"
    },
    {
      "blob_sha512": "481fd37822e8edaf87d9ea5052a12879310de2ee2298f7b13880972c2e7d97acffd4e907bbc8127aafad85be04b41e3538056fcea019ef897a9c7e602c789133",
      "path": "/mnt/data/img-downloader/export/inkbunny.net/Artists/BrunoHirschkoff/3852878_5980107_BrunoHirschkoff_bh_cr_ch2_edit.pools.json"
    },
    {
      "blob_sha512": "7908665ef548509a1e4bd39d444947e5f3b505b939bd2399735ffe7d3d2289e47755a7b4ecb8c5da3db8ff0985d7ab91d0be27c733b6ea7561be31ce64005d21",
      "path": "/mnt/data/img-downloader/export/inkbunny.net/Artists/BrunoHirschkoff/106256_Cultural Relations/106256.json"
    },
    {
      "blob_sha512": "0874c68e994adf1c5b72d7b981bea2cee39e2bcde909088737f2fe9630c34650e7608a2cbbbdcec0345a69fc8874654501c2de4721d0aecf685f03f6cf8d5180",
      "path": "/mnt/data/img-downloader/export/inkbunny.net/Artists/BrunoHirschkoff/106256_Cultural Relations/3852878_5980107_BrunoHirschkoff_bh_cr_ch2_edit.doc"
    },
    {
      "blob_sha512": "74932e23cdcd118f29208a7af12ca8fabd5f45afb99bd3498558adffd18f9659d2dffd7809ae152099bef2c1f5736f1d50ca2c82f1e04a211b4db03c976d716b",
      "path": "/mnt/data/img-downloader/export/inkbunny.net/Artists/BrunoHirschkoff/106256_Cultural Relations/3852878_5980107_BrunoHirschkoff_bh_cr_ch2_edit.api.json"
    },
    {
      "blob_sha512": "6a839f8d2a78aef0308c086581da9d7bd42ebcd9144cef270a3b81ade5c1f532f51ead662c33d4974d980b2535e5c32640e5a3c7c1c0849e309689cc7cea04c2",
      "path": "/mnt/data/img-downloader/export/inkbunny.net/Artists/BrunoHirschkoff/106256_Cultural Relations/3852878_5980107_BrunoHirschkoff_bh_cr_ch2_edit.description.json"
    },
    {
      "blob_sha512": "754e4fa65600e90602868c74918ab93e58ddb787e6ef326bef210a48602b66a44be3ca383cb777dba4f3dd8a6104597e784d2b89c2a415ae3ec05c4d6227fbaf",
      "path": "/mnt/data/img-downloader/export/inkbunny.net/Artists/BrunoHirschkoff/106256_Cultural Relations/3852878_5980107_BrunoHirschkoff_bh_cr_ch2_edit.writing.json"
    },
    {
      "blob_sha512": "481fd37822e8edaf87d9ea5052a12879310de2ee2298f7b13880972c2e7d97acffd4e907bbc8127aafad85be04b41e3538056fcea019ef897a9c7e602c789133",
      "path": "/mnt/data/img-downloader/export/inkbunny.net/Artists/BrunoHirschkoff/106256_Cultural Relations/3852878_5980107_BrunoHirschkoff_bh_cr_ch2_edit.pools.json"
    }
  ],
  "sidecar_fallbacks": {
    ".api.json": {
      "comments_count": "0",
      "create_datetime": "2026-04-17 06:57:06.35249+00",
      "create_datetime_usertime": "17 Apr 2026 08:57 CEST",
      "deleted": "f",
      "description": "Chapter 2 (of 8) of Cultural Relations - Commissioned by IrvingWrites!\n\nEvents conspire to force Shuva's hand.\nAraxes is discovered by the dreaded Y'Dasz Forest Demons.\n\nBut the cautionary tales of the Lamaye, that the Y'Dasz are bloodthirsty cannibals who kill and eat weak Lamaye men, seem... not to be true. ",
      "favorite": "f",
      "favorites_count": "0",
      "file_name": "5980107_BrunoHirschkoff_bh_cr_ch2_edit.doc",
      "file_url_full": "https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/files/full/5980/5980107_BrunoHirschkoff_bh_cr_ch2_edit.doc",
      "file_url_preview": "https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/files/preview/5980/5980107_BrunoHirschkoff_bh_cr_ch2_edit.doc",
      "file_url_screen": "https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/files/screen/5980/5980107_BrunoHirschkoff_bh_cr_ch2_edit.doc",
      "files": [
        {
          "create_datetime": "2026-04-17 06:55:18.907763+00",
          "create_datetime_usertime": "17 Apr 2026 08:55 CEST",
          "deleted": "f",
          "file_id": "5980107",
          "file_name": "5980107_BrunoHirschkoff_bh_cr_ch2_edit.doc",
          "file_url_full": "https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/files/full/5980/5980107_BrunoHirschkoff_bh_cr_ch2_edit.doc",
          "file_url_preview": "https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/files/preview/5980/5980107_BrunoHirschkoff_bh_cr_ch2_edit.doc",
          "file_url_screen": "https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/files/screen/5980/5980107_BrunoHirschkoff_bh_cr_ch2_edit.doc",
          "full_file_md5": "7cbd8d8736bed01a5c8e0132a51233aa",
          "full_size_x": null,
          "full_size_y": null,
          "initial_file_md5": "7cbd8d8736bed01a5c8e0132a51233aa",
          "large_file_md5": "",
          "mimetype": "application/msword",
          "preview_size_x": null,
          "preview_size_y": null,
          "screen_size_x": null,
          "screen_size_y": null,
          "small_file_md5": "",
          "submission_file_order": "0",
          "submission_id": "3852878",
          "thumb_huge_x": "300",
          "thumb_huge_y": "300",
          "thumb_large_x": "200",
          "thumb_large_y": "200",
          "thumb_medium_x": "120",
          "thumb_medium_y": "120",
          "thumbnail_md5": "570c50f99cb6057eb547e911a9d52fae",
          "thumbnail_url_huge": "https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/thumbnails/huge/5980/5980107_BrunoHirschkoff_bh_cr_ch2_edit.jpg",
          "thumbnail_url_large": "https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/thumbnails/large/5980/5980107_BrunoHirschkoff_bh_cr_ch2_edit.jpg",
          "thumbnail_url_medium": "https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/thumbnails/medium/5980/5980107_BrunoHirschkoff_bh_cr_ch2_edit.jpg",
          "user_id": "207272"
        }
      ],
      "friends_only": "f",
      "guest_block": "t",
      "hidden": "f",
      "keywords": [
        {
          "contributed": "f",
          "keyword_id": "291",
          "keyword_name": "adult",
          "submissions_count": "34441"
        },
        {
          "contributed": "f",
          "keyword_id": "678",
          "keyword_name": "anthro",
          "submissions_count": "246559"
        },
        {
          "contributed": "f",
          "keyword_id": "9108",
          "keyword_name": "breeding",
          "submissions_count": "11656"
        },
        {
          "contributed": "f",
          "keyword_id": "236430",
          "keyword_name": "casual masturbation",
          "submissions_count": "31"
        },
        {
          "contributed": "f",
          "keyword_id": "54686",
          "keyword_name": "casual nudity",
          "submissions_count": "6299"
        },
        {
          "contributed": "f",
          "keyword_id": "21442",
          "keyword_name": "character development",
          "submissions_count": "1409"
        },
        {
          "contributed": "f",
          "keyword_id": "2841",
          "keyword_name": "denial",
          "submissions_count": "1379"
        },
        {
          "contributed": "f",
          "keyword_id": "110",
          "keyword_name": "erotic",
          "submissions_count": "3539"
        },
        {
          "contributed": "f",
          "keyword_id": "2193",
          "keyword_name": "fantasy",
          "submissions_count": "27809"
        },
        {
          "contributed": "f",
          "keyword_id": "123",
          "keyword_name": "female",
          "submissions_count": "1156121"
        },
        {
          "contributed": "f",
          "keyword_id": "1413",
          "keyword_name": "fiction",
          "submissions_count": "925"
        },
        {
          "contributed": "f",
          "keyword_id": "5393",
          "keyword_name": "flashing",
          "submissions_count": "4433"
        },
        {
          "contributed": "f",
          "keyword_id": "3369",
          "keyword_name": "foreskin",
          "submissions_count": "29445"
        },
        {
          "contributed": "f",
          "keyword_id": "1594",
          "keyword_name": "giraffe",
          "submissions_count": "3388"
        },
        {
          "contributed": "f",
          "keyword_id": "4408",
          "keyword_name": "lust",
          "submissions_count": "2942"
        },
        {
          "contributed": "f",
          "keyword_id": "165",
          "keyword_name": "male",
          "submissions_count": "1269570"
        },
        {
          "contributed": "f",
          "keyword_id": "690",
          "keyword_name": "masturbation",
          "submissions_count": "50971"
        },
        {
          "contributed": "f",
          "keyword_id": "47865",
          "keyword_name": "novella",
          "submissions_count": "77"
        },
        {
          "contributed": "f",
          "keyword_id": "2075",
          "keyword_name": "nsfw",
          "submissions_count": "65073"
        },
        {
          "contributed": "f",
          "keyword_id": "265",
          "keyword_name": "orgasm",
          "submissions_count": "37271"
        },
        {
          "contributed": "f",
          "keyword_id": "5570",
          "keyword_name": "plot development",
          "submissions_count": "608"
        },
        {
          "contributed": "f",
          "keyword_id": "1578",
          "keyword_name": "pregnancy",
          "submissions_count": "15894"
        },
        {
          "contributed": "f",
          "keyword_id": "36427",
          "keyword_name": "sexual references",
          "submissions_count": "4"
        },
        {
          "contributed": "f",
          "keyword_id": "1740",
          "keyword_name": "teasing",
          "submissions_count": "20494"
        },
        {
          "contributed": "f",
          "keyword_id": "947",
          "keyword_name": "tribal",
          "submissions_count": "5817"
        },
        {
          "contributed": "f",
          "keyword_id": "560",
          "keyword_name": "uncut",
          "submissions_count": "24526"
        },
        {
          "contributed": "f",
          "keyword_id": "969",
          "keyword_name": "violence",
          "submissions_count": "4731"
        },
        {
          "contributed": "f",
          "keyword_id": "36810",
          "keyword_name": "worldbuilding",
          "submissions_count": "405"
        }
      ],
      "last_file_update_datetime": "2026-04-17 06:55:18.907763+00",
      "last_file_update_datetime_usertime": "17 Apr 2026 08:55 CEST",
      "mimetype": "application/msword",
      "pagecount": "1",
      "pools": [
        {
          "count": "3",
          "description": "A novella of Asantrea with a thematic focus on acceptance, finding one's purpose, and a truly extraordinary quantity of giraffe tits. ",
          "name": "Cultural Relations",
          "pool_id": "106256",
          "submission_left_file_name": "5974957_BrunoHirschkoff_bh_cr_ch1.doc",
          "submission_left_submission_id": "3849806",
          "submission_left_thumb_huge_x": "300",
          "submission_left_thumb_huge_y": "300",
          "submission_left_thumb_large_x": "200",
          "submission_left_thumb_large_y": "200",
          "submission_left_thumb_medium_x": "120",
          "submission_left_thumb_medium_y": "120",
          "submission_left_thumbnail_url_huge": "https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/thumbnails/huge/5974/5974957_BrunoHirschkoff_bh_cr_ch1.jpg",
          "submission_left_thumbnail_url_large": "https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/thumbnails/large/5974/5974957_BrunoHirschkoff_bh_cr_ch1.jpg",
          "submission_left_thumbnail_url_medium": "https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/thumbnails/medium/5974/5974957_BrunoHirschkoff_bh_cr_ch1.jpg"
        }
      ],
      "pools_count": 1,
      "public": "t",
      "rating_id": "2",
      "rating_name": "Adult",
      "ratings": [
        {
          "content_tag_id": "4",
          "description": "Erotic imagery, sexual activity or arousal",
          "name": "Sexual Themes",
          "rating_id": "2"
        }
      ],
      "scraps": "f",
      "submission_id": "3852878",
      "submission_type_id": "12",
      "thumb_huge_x": "300",
      "thumb_huge_y": "300",
      "thumb_large_x": "200",
      "thumb_large_y": "200",
      "thumb_medium_x": "120",
      "thumb_medium_y": "120",
      "thumbnail_url_huge": "https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/thumbnails/huge/5980/5980107_BrunoHirschkoff_bh_cr_ch2_edit.jpg",
      "thumbnail_url_large": "https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/thumbnails/large/5980/5980107_BrunoHirschkoff_bh_cr_ch2_edit.jpg",
      "thumbnail_url_medium": "https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/thumbnails/medium/5980/5980107_BrunoHirschkoff_bh_cr_ch2_edit.jpg",
      "title": "Cultural Relations - Chapter 2",
      "type_name": "Writing - Document",
      "user_icon_file_name": "295416_BrunoHirschkoff_6d19b8e6-fd5b-415e-ab4b-7902590a0d87_1_201_a.jpg",
      "user_icon_url_large": "https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/usericons/large/295/295416_BrunoHirschkoff_6d19b8e6-fd5b-415e-ab4b-7902590a0d87_1_201_a.jpg",
      "user_icon_url_medium": "https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/usericons/medium/295/295416_BrunoHirschkoff_6d19b8e6-fd5b-415e-ab4b-7902590a0d87_1_201_a.jpg",
      "user_icon_url_small": "https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/usericons/small/295/295416_BrunoHirschkoff_6d19b8e6-fd5b-415e-ab4b-7902590a0d87_1_201_a.jpg",
      "user_id": "207272",
      "username": "BrunoHirschkoff",
      "views": "17",
      "writing": "[center]Cultural Relations[/center]\n\n[center]Part 2[/center]\n\n[center]©2025 Bruno Hirschkoff[/center]\n\n[center]For Irving[/center]\n\n[center] [/center]\n\n[center][i]The following is a work of erotic fiction intended solely for adult audiences. It is not intended for commercial publication nor for widespread distribution without the permission of the Author. The Author asserts the exclusive right of ownership of Asantrea, and all characters, settings, concepts, locations and events described herein.[/i][/center]\n\n[center][i] [/i][/center]\n\n[center][i]Approx 7,300 words / 35 minutes reading time[/i][/center]\n\n[center][i] [/i][/center]\n\n[center][u]Chapter 2[/u][/center]\n\n“Sheqi, Nur-Ayya! Lur a’amadeti!”\n\n“Lah! Raq’ahbat.”\n\n“Esti Lamaye-ur?”\n\nAraxes’ head was pounding. The strange voices plucked at the periphery of his consciousness like a savannah beetle picking at the frayed edges of a blanket. The young giraffe’s diaphragm spasmed, and he suddenly coughed violently and surged upright. \n\n“Ay, ay, tik’tur! Tik’tur. Lah, meshti.”\n\nA clay bowl filled with water was thrust into Araxes’ cloudy vision. He tried to lift his arms to take it, but they would not respond, and he felt water moistening his lips. He coughed and worked his throat, then eventually regained enough strength to hold the bowl himself and sip carefully. Why couldn’t he see properly? He forced his eyes wide open and blinked rapidly. \n\nHe wasn’t blind. It was night. \n\nHe’d been unconscious for most of the day, laying naked under the baking suns beside the giraffe’s-head rock. \n\n“Ur-Lamaye, lah.”\n\nAraxes’ consciousness gradually crystallised and he sipped water from the clay bowl again. There were several heavy, solid-seeming figures looming in the darkness around him. None of them carried torches. They continued to converse in a language that was foreign to Araxes, but somehow familiar. He recognised elements of it. Abruptly, Araxes realised why the shadowy figures around him sounded… strange. Their voices were deep, but not as deep as those of Lamaye warriors. These were women. But they were unquestionably warriors. Each of them carried a spear strapped to their backs. \n\nY’Dasz raiders. Forest demons. \n\nAraxes’ blood turned to ice in his veins. His time was done. He muttered a prayer to Amel, to ask the Goddess to ease his passage to the Void.\n\n[center]*[/center]\n\nNur-Ayya held up her hand to call a halt. Kesh and Aror were hanging low in the sky, just kissing the western horizon ahead of their journey beneath the world. The transit of Saliel was only days away, and the Y’Dasz knew that such cosmic events were popular times for the northern tribes to enact a variety of rituals and practices. Nur-Ayya squatted in the dense undergrowth at the edge of the forest along with four of her spear-sisters. All were as silent and as still as standing stones, their distinctive pelts daubed with clay and long strips of cloth wrapped around their bodies, both for camouflage and protection from the suns and the insects that swarmed on the fringes of the jungle. They were on patrol along the northern frontier of the great green vastness of Ammunash’s Garden, although all of the Y’Dasz women knew that what was at stake was not territorial assertion. \n\nFor as long as Nur-Ayya had accompanied her sisters on these raids, the Lamaye tribe of the northern savannah had been leaving their brethren out to die, and her people, the Y’Dasz, had been there to take them in. To offer them life. And so much more. Nur-Ayya knew the lore; the Lamaye thought they were strengthening their ranks, weeding out the weakest and least warlike of their males and offering them as sacrifices to Bezar, the god of warriors and fire, and the forger of souls. Whether the Y’Dasz took them in or not, the Lamaye continued to abandon their people on the fringes of Ammunash’s Garden. On Nur-Ayya’s first patrol, she and her spear-sisters had found three young Lamaye men, all of them beaten and restrained. Only one was still alive, the other two having succumbed to thirst in the heat. The discovery had strengthened Nur-Ayya’s resolve. If the Lamaye did not see any value in those they so brutally abandoned, the Y’Dasz certainly would.\n\nSo when Veyo, the youngest of Nur-Ayya’s company of spear-sisters and a Pathfinder, called out that she had found a live one, Nur-Ayya’s blood quickened. They had already visited the places where the Lamaye usually left offerings to Bezar, and had found four corpses, all of them speared and left to bleed out on the baking stone of Bezar’s Anvil. Criminals, executed for crimes unknown—two antelope and two zebra, one of them scarcely more than a boy.\n\n“Over here, Nur-Ayya! Come quickly!” Veyo called.\n\n“I hear you! Stand clear.”\n\nNur-Ayya moved up alongside Veyo, who straightened and hovered over her shoulder. \n\n“Is he Lamaye?”\n\nAt her hooves, Nur-Ayya saw a crumpled heap of mahogany-patched fur. He was naked, his tunic torn and discarded a short distance away, and did not have any of the ritual scars on his skinny chest of which the Lamaye were so fond. He had not been initiated, then. Abruptly, his ragged breath caught and he surged upward, coughing violently to clear his windpipe. Veyo jumped. \n\n“Ay, ay, calmly. Calmly! I hear you. Hello,” Nur-Ayya said, patting the skinny giraffe’s back and offering him a bowl of water. \n\nHe attempted to take the bowl but could not control his arms, so Nur-Ayya held the back of his neck and gently tipped the bowl to moisten his lips. He slowly took a little water, then took the bowl shakily. He sipped, spat, then took a drink. He was confused and weak. Dried blood matted the side of his head and his pelt was caked in dirt, salt and sweat. Clearly he’d been here all through the heat of the day and was severely dehydrated, although Nur-Ayya took some heart from realising that he was not restrained.\n\n“He is Lamaye, yes,” she said to Veyo.\n\nVeyo leaned closer to inspect their discovery, leaning on the haft of her spear with her ears sharply pricked forward, clearly intrigued by his nudity as much as anything else. “Why do they do this, Nur-Ayya? They throw away their best menfolk for the suns and the vultures.”\n\n“Only the gods and their worldly brethren truly know,” Nur-Ayya said, her voice tinged with sadness. “And it is our curse that we cannot expect an answer. You have done well, Veyo, I am proud of you. Your very first outing as a spear-sister and you have saved a life…and brought a blessing upon your people.”\n\nThe elder giraffe cupped her hand at the nape of Veyo’s neck and brought their heads together, bumping their velvety ossicones gently for a moment, before releasing the younger woman. Nur-Ayya fell into an easy squat beside the skinny Lamaye giraffe and cast her eye over him in the darkness. No sooner had his consciousness fully returned than fear etched into his features. The Lamaye still told their fairy-tales to their calves about the evil Forest Demons. Nur-Ayya suppressed a chuckle and clapped the skinny giraffe on the shoulder. He almost toppled over. \n\n“With us, coming, you,” Nur-Ayya said to him, in halting Lamaye. \n\nThe young giraffe’s eyes almost popped out of his skull. He stammered and crawled backwards on his hands. Nur-Ayya followed him with languid steps. \n\n“Wh-who are you? Where am I?” he managed, in a cracked and dry voice. \n\n“You are taking… blow to head. Ahh, self, am calling Nur-Ayya, daughter Ayya-Yurah, Aethyrsage of Y’Dasz, following of Amel, following of Dytaea. How… you are calling self?”\n\nThe skinny Lamaye’s mouth fell open. He groaned and held the side of his head. \n\n“Being careful not…thinking hard, brains fall out of hole in head!” Nur-Ayya joked. “Tell your name to me.”\n\n“A-Araxes. I am Araxes. You… your people worship Amel?”\n\nNur-Ayya tilted her head in confusion. Did the Lamaye not know of the plight of the Y’Dasz? “Yes, Amel is being… goddess of us. Amel of Rivers, Dytaea of forests. Goddess… not hearing… before-ago-many. Reason coming, you.”\n\nNur-Ayya turned and spoke briefly in Y’Dasz, and the four other giraffe women shared a laugh. Then she stooped and picked up Araxes’ torn tunic. She inspected it for a moment, and then ripped it open further to form it into a long strip of fabric made from several pieces tied end on end, which she offered to Araxes. He stared at it dumbly, and then up at Nur-Ayya, who held out a hand to him. \n\n“Covering ahh… spear, Araxes. Spear sisters… interest, having. [i]Shaka’hakt.”[/i]\n\nAraxes watched her carefully for a moment, and then seemed to resign himself to his fate. He raised his hand shakily to Nur-Ayya’s, and allowed her to pull him to his hooves. Immediately, he stumbled and fell heavily against the Y’Dasz woman, and she caught him in her arms. \n\n“[i]Lah, tik’tur[/i]. You cannot standing. Injured… no water inside. Veyo? [i]Sheqi, lur-khama’akti Araxes?”[/i]\n\nThe young spear-sister handed her weapon to another woman, and stood facing Araxes with undisguised fascination, while Nur-Ayya wrapped the long strip of fabric that used to be his tunic around his body to form a kind of sari that hung from one shoulder and wrapped around his waist to cover him. \n\n“Veyo carrying you, Araxes,” she explained. “Until you… healing, walking. Veyo strong. Araxes drinking much water.”\n\nVeyo looked ravenous. Araxes shrank back as she stepped forward, and reached to touch his shoulder. She was tall, strong and proud, and Nur-Ayya noticed him struggling not to stare at her considerable bust. Then Veyo turned her back to him and fell into a squat, and Nur-Ayya prodded him forward to climb onto Veyo’s back. Veyo captured his legs in her hands, and he loosely wrapped his arms around her neck. Then she rose to her hooves, and conversed briefly with Nur-Ayya, who laughed. \n\n“Veyo saying… Araxes weighing, like ahh… like feather,” Nur-Ayya said, for Araxes’ benefit.\n\nThen, with Araxes on her back, Veyo followed Nur-Ayya and her spear-sisters south, towards the inky blackness of the jungle. They did not speak much until they were well within the darkness of the dense vegetation, and when Nur-Ayya checked, she found Araxes dozing fitfully with his head hanging forward over Veyo’s shoulder and his arms loosely wrapped around her. Nur-Ayya shared a warm smile with Veyo. \n\n“He feels safe already,” she observed to Veyo. “He sleeps.”\n\nVeyo grunted. “He is careful not to touch my tits.”\n\nNur-Ayya laughed. “He will be shocked to learn what you are like.”\n\n[center]*[/center]\n\n“Shuva. Report.”\n\nShuva entered the baking heat of Isaeos’ hut and knelt before the Chieftain’s throne. He was naked in its glittering embrace, with scented oils being massaged into his pelt by two young women, clad in nothing more than tiny silk loincloths. Arashi was one of them, and Shuva swallowed the bile that rose in his throat with difficulty.\n\n“Father, Chieftain—your will has been fulfilled. Those souls promised to Bezar’s glory have been delivered by Lamaye hands, and the Forest Demons claimed their own sacrifice as you commanded. I saw to it myself.”\n\nIsaeos was silent. The Chieftain regarded Shuva with a burning intensity for an uncomfortably long time, and then rose from his throne, shrugging off his attendants. Shuva averted his gaze.\n\n“Is that the truth, Shuva?”\n\nThe Chieftain’s words were framed as a question, but one which dripped with intent. \n\n“Aye, Father—I broke off from the patrol group to lay in wait for the shaman’s child, and ensured that he was left in a place where the Forest Demons would discover him,” Shuva said carefully.\n\n“You speak the truth—the Y’Dasz did indeed find their quarry. But not by your hand. My agents found the condemned soul unbound and fleeing, to a place where water and food had been hidden. It was they who fulfilled my will—not you.”\n\nOaal and Xanaf stepped into the hut’s audience space from behind a heavy curtain of beads, behind which both men had been receiving a similar treatment to the Chieftain. Both emerged with their spears levelled at the Chieftain’s son. Shuva’s blood ran cold, even in the sweltering oven of Isaeos’ hut. For a brief moment, his gaze met that of Arashi, and she returned it with the tiniest motion of her head. Shuva realised with certainty that his double-existence had been discovered, and the game was up. He’d pushed his luck too far.\n\n“Oaal, Xanaf… the coward and the bully,” Shuva snarled. \n\n“A coward and a bully, but at least we are not traitors,” Xanaf snapped back at him.\n\nShuva surged upward, knocked aside his spear and punched him squarely in the jaw. \n\n[i]“Enough!” [/i]roared Isaeos, as Xanaf recovered and raised his spear to Shuva. “You leave me in a predicament, Shuva. You are a traitor to your Chieftain, to your people, and to Bezar. You are also the heir to this throne. I cannot allow you, of all men, to not be answerable to such a serious crime. Especially not where your crime has [i]witnesses.[/i]”\n\n“So you will condemn your son and heir to die for a single act of kindness, on the word of these two spineless cowards? They would tell you anything to gain your favour. I had not realised you were such an insecure ruler to be secretively surrounding yourself with such dregs,” Shuva intoned calmly, rage sparking in his blood and firing his courage—the flame of the Bezari. “My gift to Araxes was to ensure he remains alive for the Y’Dasz to find, not for him to flee! Where could he go?”\n\nIseaos turned and ran a hand over the curve of Arashi’s waist, pulling her bodily against himself. \n\n“To the Sagunu,” Isaeos stated. “He would run west. Come, how simple do you believe us all to be?”\n\nSilently, the Chieftain held out his other hand, into which Oaal deposited the waterskin and empty food pack that Shuva had left for Araxes.\n\n“And… you are right, my son—the word of a bully and a coward is worth nothing to me. Evidence, however… It will take many years to raise another son to replace you, although the means to do so is right before me, and I will take great pleasure in planting my seed in her fertile fields… breaking her mind and body to my will.”\n\nIsaeos gripped Arashi’s jaw roughly in his hand and twisted her head back to drag his purple tongue slimily along her throat. She grimaced and clenched her hands into fists. Shuva’s fists clenched likewise.\n\nThe tension between Chieftain and son was electric. \n\nOblivious, Oaal gave Xanaf a lecherous grin, and appeared to be becoming aroused at the mere prospect of witnessing the Chieftain take Arashi. Xanaf, distracted, slapped at Oaal’s rising erection, and Oaal twisted away from his companion with a bleat, instigating a scuffle between them. Isaeos spun angrily to face the two, and in that split second, he let his guard down. \n\nArashi moved like liquid lightning. \n\nShuva did not, at first, discern the movement from Arashi’s hands. It was as if the Chieftain’s hut abruptly exploded into blood and combat. The Chieftain’s hands wrenched Oaal and Xanaf apart, and in that moment, a tiny obsidian blade concealed within Arashi’s loincloth flashed in the firelight. Isaeos grunted in shock as his leg collapsed beneath him. He fell heavily to one knee, arterial blood gushing from a wound in his groin. It was a mortal wound on its own, but Isaeos remained dangerous. He dodged aside from a second attack aimed at his jugular. He roared in rage and spun on his knee, sending Arashi flying across the hut with a blow from the back of his hand. \n\nShuva skipped backward and squatted in a warrior’s crouch near to the hut’s entrance. \n\nThis was not meant to happen. Not yet. But the idiotic Oaal and his scheming friend Xanaf were forcing his hand. \n\nShuva knew what needed to happen. He needed a weapon.\n\nHis eye moved across the spears held by Oaal and Xanaf. Too far away, and too unwieldy. The tiny obsidian blade was beneath Isaeos while he gripped and squeezed his groin, attempting to stem the bleeding. Too close, and he would be forced onto the floor to retrieve it, a dangerous position. \n\nThen his eye fell to the ceremonial bronze dagger in a scabbard on his father’s thigh. There was an opportunity for him to redeem himself, redeem his tribe, and save Arashi from what would now be certain death. But it meant killing his father. His Chieftain. An Aethyr-touched Bezari. A warrior born, with the blood of the god of war in his veins. And probably Oaal and Xanaf as well. Shuva’s hands clenched into the reed mats on the floor of the hut. It was life or death for everyone in the hut in that moment—the only question remaining was, who would live, and who would die. The passage of time seemed to slow to a crawl for Shuva. \n\nHe, too, carried the blood of Bezar.\n\nHe took a deep breath, tensed his thighs, and erupted out of his crouch.\n\nIn two strides he cleared the firepit in the centre of the hut, and came down heavily with his knee to Isaeos’ chest, forcing the Chieftain to fall backward and crack his head against the edge of the throne. Shuva’s hand closed around the hilt of the dagger, and it rang like silver as he drew it. The blade glinted in the firelight. Blood roared in his ears. Isaeos was momentarily dazed from the blow to his head. Blood spurted from the wound to his groin. \n\nShuva raised the dagger high over his father’s prone body, and plunged it into the Bezari Chieftain’s throat, spearing his heart.\n\nHis blood was like magma in his veins. The power was [i]intoxicating[/i]. He inhaled deeply, feeling Isaeos’ lifeblood pulsing forth over the hilt of the dagger. \n\nShuva felt the point of Xanaf’s spear graze past his ribs in a poorly-aimed thrust, and heard Oaal bawling for him to surrender. \n\nHe wrenched the blood-soaked dagger out of Isaeos’ dying body and rose smoothly to his hooves, turning to face the two. He batted aside another weak thrust from Xanaf’s spear as though it were a mosquito in his ear, sending the weapon clattering to the floor. Both recoiled from his smouldering rage. His hand closed around the haft of Oaal’s spear, and snapped it like a dry twig. Then he flung the liberated blade aside and drove the ceremonial dagger into Xanaf’s shoulder. He fell heavily, clutching the blade protruding over his collarbone. Oaal fell over backwards and pissed himself in fear. Shuva advanced, drenched in sweat and speckled with blood. He picked up Xanaf’s spear, reversed it, and used the butt to knock Oaal unconscious. Then he bound the wrists of both initiates, and gagged them for good measure. Neither of their wounds seemed mortal—as much as Shuva wanted to kill them, to bathe in their blood, his rage was tempered by Arashi’s presence and his devotion to Amel. In his mind Shuva had already formulated the bones of a plan, to pin the murder of the Chieftain on them, if he needed to. And for that, he needed them alive.\n\nShuva then turned his attention to Arashi. She was unconscious, but breathing normally and did not seem seriously injured. The tiny obsidian blade was barely two inches in length but viciously sharp, and Shuva retrieved it from where it had fallen. He placed it on Oaal’s unconscious body, then returned to the Sagunu woman. The weight of the events of less than fifty heartbeats finally began to settle on Shuva’s shoulders. He knew he had a hard road ahead of him to gain the loyalty of the Lamaye, particularly those who were devotees of his father. He gently pulled Arashi into his arms and stroked her cheek.\n\nIsaeos finally died with a rattling groan. The hut was drenched in blood.\n\n“Amel forgive me,” murmured the new Chieftain of the Lamaye to Arashi, as his blood cooled. “With you at my side, and the River Goddess’ blessing, I shall guide our people back to the light.”\n\nBut doubt smouldered in his heart. \n\nBecause he had [i]enjoyed [/i]the feeling of killing. \n\n[center]*[/center]\n\nAraxes squatted dejectedly in the sodden loam of the forest floor. A persistent, soaking rain had deepened the already gloomy depths of the dense jungle, drowning the air in a sullen torpidity that was entirely alien to the young Lamaye. Veyo had carried him throughout the remainder of the night and all of the following day, and finally as the dull light of day began to dim into darkness once again, the company of Y’Dasz spear-sisters stopped to rest. The jungle had been relatively sparse and navigable to begin with, although to Araxes it had looked impenetrable from the start. But the deeper they ventured into its depths, the denser it became, until it was a choking morass of sweltering misery.\n\nHis hooves sank into choking undergrowth and mud the moment they hit the ground, and Araxes found himself wondering how anyone could stand to live in such a place. All around him, Y’Dasz warrior women laughed and conversed in their own tongue, all but ignoring his presence and seemingly unbothered by the tropical deluge. The forest they travelled through never seemed to vary in the slightest. In every direction, it was an impenetrable wall of writhing, sodden green. Even overhead. Araxes had not seen the sky all day. There was no point in attempting an escape into such a place. Araxes was hopelessly lost and had no clue of even what direction they were travelling, although south seemed a reasonable assumption. Even if he did escape and somehow make it back to Lamaye territory, his own people would sacrifice him to Bezar. \n\nHe hesitated to believe Nur-Ayya when she said that the Y’Dasz were devotees of Amel. The river goddess was known to be a benevolent and kind deity; she would not think of having cannibals and killers among her flock, nor any who worshipped Aktis, the Keeper of Souls. But then, nor had Araxes seen any evidence of the tales his people told of the Y’Dasz. \n\n“Will soon enjoying… return to Ammunash’s Garden,” Nyr-Ayya said in slow, broken Lamaye, approaching Araxes with a woven basket of fruits and wild nuts the spear-sisters had foraged.\n\nAraxes gave her a look of confusion, needing to tilt his head back to meet her gaze, so much taller was she than him. “But we are already [i]in [/i]Ammunash’s Garden!”\n\nNur-Ayya laughed. “[i]This [/i]place? Garden? Y’Dasz… not here living, sweating place! Garden… further. Onward-next. Sweating place… barrier. Few pass, knowing how. You next-like-soon Garden, I thinking.”\n\n“What is to happen to me? You do not seem like the demons my people are so afraid of. Am I to be sacrificed? What of the other Lamaye your people have taken?”\n\nNur-Ayya fixed him with a penetrating stare. She had clearly not understood the nuance of his words, nor their implication. “Other Lamaye…before-ing, ago, yes, taking.”\n\nAraxes mistook her misunderstanding as evasiveness, and a cold shiver ran up his spine. [i]It is true, [/i]he thought. [i]They kill and eat us. Perhaps they save us until the whole village can join in like some dark feast, and that is why they have not killed me yet…[/i]\n\nAraxes sat on a fallen tree and ate fitfully when prompted by Nur-Ayya, and when Veyo approached him with open curiosity and a bowl filled with fresh water, he tentatively accepted it and drank his fill. She stared at him throughout, and then she reached to adjust the remains of his tunic on his skinny hip. Araxes recoiled and spilt water over himself. It made little difference, as drenched with rain and sweat as he already was, but Veyo immediately knelt in front of him and began to fuss over him, lifting the front flap of his sari to mop water from his pelt and wringing it out. Higher and higher up his torso she moved, and Araxes realised that she was quite deliberately exposing his manhood to her view, which she openly stared at. Unbidden, his body responded to her closeness. With all of the horrors he had endured lately and for the longest time, Araxes could not remember his last moment of sexual release, and his blood quickened in his veins despite his fear and the uncertainty of the Y’Dasz’ intentions. Veyo noticed his predicament and murmured in husky Y’Dasz something which Araxes thought to mean ‘I see you, hello.’\n\nAbruptly, Nur-Ayya’s hand rested on Veyo’s shoulder, and the younger spear-sister exhaled in frustration and drew away from Araxes. The two Y’Dasz women exchanged a few words, and Veyo retreated. \n\n“Forgiving Veyo. Young, excited she is. Wanting man. Feeling spear on back all day, saying,” Nur-Ayya laughed, sitting beside him. \n\nVeyo had retreated to the company of the three other spear-sisters a short distance away, and was clearly discussing Araxes with some degree of bawdiness, based on her hand movements and the laughter of her sisters. She made eye contact with Araxes and lifted the front of her sari to expose herself to him, allowing her long, purple tongue to fall suggestively from her lips. Araxes looked away with a start, feeling his ears burning. What truly took Araxes’ breath away, though, was that Veyo then began to openly pleasure herself, maintaining a casual conversation with the other Y’Dasz women while she did. It was as though she were doing nothing unexpected—repairing a foraging basket or sharpening a spear, perhaps, not openly rubbing her genitals in full view of her companions. He tried to force himself not to look directly upon her, but she remained in the periphery of his vision. Araxes had never known a woman to be so ribald, either in her interest in him or her actions, and he had never before witnessed a woman’s sexual pleasure. His arousal surged upright and throbbed persistently, unable to be entirely concealed by the ragged scraps of fabric that were his only covering, right up until Veyo hunched over herself, bucking and trembling through an orgasm. Then, as casually as if nothing had occurred, she returned to where Araxes and Nur-Ayya sat. A brief conversation ensued, during which Veyo’s gaze never left Araxes. She had closed her sari only just far enough to barely conceal her nudity, and Araxes stared openly.\n\n“Veyo… saying apologising,” Nur-Ayya translated for Araxes. “Women desiring ahh… different among Y’Dasz. Y’Dasz women having… no ahh… no shaming for desire of body.”\n\nVeyo raised Nur-Ayya’s hand to her lips and kissed her knuckles, and then retreated once again. \n\n“Araxes needing ahh… no fearing of Y’Dasz,” Nur-Ayya said to him, placing her hand on his knee. “Y’Dasz caring, loving, protecting Araxes.”\n\nAraxes’ ears pricked forward and he raised his muzzle to meet Nur-Ayya’s gaze. In the darkness of the jungle, she looked fearsome and powerful still, but her expression was gentle and neither she nor any of the spear-sisters had made any attempt to hurt him. Slowly, Araxes began to have hope that he was indeed in no danger. \n\n“Why did you stop Veyo?” he asked Nur-Ayya after a long silence. \n\nNur-Ayya laughed heartily and clapped him on the shoulder. “Araxes enjoying attentions? Good! Ahh, next-soon, returning Garden. Soon-after-then, Araxes… meeting Ayya-Yurah, mother Nur-Ayya. Accepting Araxes to Y’Dasz. After-next, no more stopping.”\n\nAraxes’ heart quickened, although for the first time it was not from fear. Nur-Ayya was sitting close to him, and was casting sidelong looks at him as if she wanted nothing more than to touch him, but was restraining herself with some effort. At length, Araxes shuffled a little closer to her, until their hips touched. Nur-Ayya inhaled sharply and he felt her tense up, then slowly relax. Her strong arm snaked around his waist, and Araxes forced himself to look anywhere but at the rain-drenched sari which did very little to conceal Nur-Ayya’s breasts. He could clearly see the peaks of her nipples beneath the fabric, and felt his body reacting once again. \n\n“Should not… touching, yet,” Nur-Ayya murmured in his ear after a long moment of contact. “Tempting, smelling of male. Making difficult. Making wet.”\n\nShe exhaled shakily over his ear and gave his upper thigh a firm, lengthy squeeze beneath his sari, then pulled away from him with obvious reluctance. Nur-Ayya rose to her hooves, and glanced around at her spear-sisters. Then, to Araxes shock, she pulled open the binding of her sari and allowed it to fall open, exposing her body almost full-frontal to his view. His mouth fell open in shock and arousal. She was stunning. Muscular, curvaceous, soft, all at once. Her heavy breasts were full and round, her pelt matted to her skin with sweat and the remnants of the sun-protection clay. And below, Araxes’ eye sought the curve of her womanhood. Her sari concealed it still, but she dipped a finger behind it, and drew forth a web of stretchy slickness. \n\n“Wet, Araxes making,” she stated.\n\nThen, to his disappointment, she tied her sari closed once more.\n\nNur-Ayya remained with Araxes for the remainder of that night, and slept alongside him—which seemed to be her way of protecting him from Veyo. Araxes slept more peacefully than he had in a long time. He felt safe, with the very people he was warned for his entire life would kill and eat him.\n\n[center]*[/center]\n\nAyya-Yurah breathed deeply of the heady haze of incense that filled her hut, some thirty fetlocks above the forest floor among the lowest boughs of the vast, intertwined trees. Nets hung around the inside of the hut were filled with bioluminescent fungi, casting a purplish-blue glow across the space. She spoke the Aethyric incantation that would bring her an image of her daughter through the clay bowl of water held before her by two male giraffes, one of whom was very likely the father of the calf which distended the Aethyrsage’s womb—although which of them had sired that calf was neither known, nor given much importance. Ayya-Yurah added two drops of an inky resin to the water, and the surface rippled and swirled. Ayya-Yurah’s perception of the real world fell into the background of her consciousness, and instead she was seeing what her daughter saw, as though through her eyes. \n\nThey were nearing the Garden. Nur-Ayya led her group of spear-sisters, and they were laughing and speaking freely. They seemed happy, although Ayya-Yurah could not hear their words—rather, she could feel her daughter’s emotions. Happiness, anticipation, and… arousal? Lust? Yes, those were definitely present. Beside Nur-Ayya, Veyo was clearing a path through the dense jungle. Her sari clung to her pelt, transparent with sweat and the perpetual humidity of the northern rainforest. The other spear-sisters were, presumably, behind Nur-Ayya. But Ayya-Yurah could feel another presence too—a male presence. The Aethyrsage’s blood quickened, and at that moment Nur-Ayya turned her head. \n\nThen Ayya-Yurah saw him. He was young and slender, and short for a giraffe. A field-poultice of moss and sap was bandaged to the side of his head with a strip of flaxtree bark, and he was dirty and dishevelled. But he was walking unaided, and Ayya-Yurah read from her daughter’s emotions that he was in better shape than the spear-sisters had found him in. As Nur-Ayya regarded him, apprehension flashed across his features. Evidently Nur-Ayya was speaking to him and his ears pricked forward to hear her. Then she turned away from him, and Ayya-Yurah saw precisely where they were.\n\nThe Aethyrsage dearly wanted to see the newcomer’s first reaction to what would shortly follow, but her vision began to cloud and distort. The scrying incantation only lasted a short time, and it was with some regret that Ayya-Yurah returned to her primary consciousness. She drank deeply from a clay cup of water that was handed to her by one of the male giraffes in her hut, and then rose slowly to her hooves, her hands guarding the gravid swelling of her pregnant belly.\n\n“They are coming. They will be with us soon, and they bring a blessing with them,” she said.\n\n[center]*[/center]\n\n[i]“A-lah, lah, bata’aik-ah.”[/i]\n\nAraxes was beginning to understand more of the Y’Dasz tongue, thanks to its similarities to the Lamaye language; enough to know that the spear-sister who was speaking to him intended him to stop fussing with the poultice she had applied to his head wound. It itched abominably, but Araxes knew that meant it was healing. Still, it was difficult to leave it alone and when he thought he was not being observed he would habitually press the heel of his palm against the resinous lump of pungent moss, relieving the burning itch even for only a moment. \n\nYt’tai was her name, Araxes learned from Nur-Ayya. She was learning how to dress wounds and treat illnesses as part of her warrior training. The concept was foreign to Araxes. In Lamaye lands, a warrior was a warrior alone—strength, martial skill and aggression were their only traits. Or, more commonly, demonstrated and unquestioning loyalty to the Chieftain. Yet even among these five Y’Dasz, all of whom were clearly warrior women, there was more diversity of skill than Araxes had seen among the entire fighting force of the Lamaye. Nur-Ayya was an Aethyrsage-in-waiting, a shamaness and a practitioner of magic. Veyo was a pathfinder; a sort of navigator, highly skilled in tracking and reading her environment. Yt’tai was a healer. The other spear-sisters, whose names were Nenwoh and Yattah, were a huntress and a forager, skilled in preparing food, weaving and weapon maintenance. All of them had a variety of skillsets outside of their martial roles. Araxes was beginning to feel just as useless among them as he had been among the Lamaye. What role could he possibly have?\n\nYt’tai fussed over his bandage, while Araxes sat glumly on a fallen log. Veyo had taken Nenwoh and Yattah ahead to clear a path through a particularly challenging section of terrain, leaving Araxes alone with Nur-Ayya and Yt’tai. She muttered and murmured to him while she prepared a new bandage, and slowly Araxes began to pick up more words. \n\n“Itches…burns, much,” he managed in Y’Dasz. \n\nYt’tai’s eyes opened wide and she stepped back from him as if he had spontaneously burst into flames. \n\nThe sound of Nur-Ayya’s laughter rippled across the forest, and she turned back to face him. \n\n“Clever, clever little Lamaye!” she exclaimed in her own tongue. “It is good to know that it is not only your [i]spear [/i]that is large and of great value to us, but your brains as well.”\n\nAraxes felt his muzzle burning at her implication, and self-consciously clasped his hands over his lap. Yt’tai gave him a look which Araxes took to be one of mirth, and leaned in to him once again—closer, this time—to clean his wound and apply fresh moss to it. Yt’tai was very much more finely built than Nur-Ayya and Veyo; she was strong and fit, but while Nur-Ayya was a powerful, muscular woman, Yt’tai was toned and lithe.\n\n“Few words,” he said to Yt’tai. “Sorrow… if wronging.”\n\nShe gave a low, throaty chuckle and cupped the nape of his neck, bringing their foreheads gently together to touch her ossicones to his own. Araxes stared down her sari into her modest cleavage, suddenly very aware that she was standing astride his right leg. “You have been among us for two days, yet you attempt to speak our language. Have no fear, and apologise for nothing.”\n\n“Yt’tai speaks the truth, Araxes. If we laugh at you, it is because you have said something which translates humorously, not because we are berating you,” said Nur-Ayya, sitting alongside him on the fallen log and resting her hand on his thigh.\n\nAraxes grit his teeth. He could smell both Y’Dasz women, and Nur-Ayya’s hip pressed against his. Her hand squeezed his thigh warmly. The spear-sisters’ feminine scents oozed from them, and he subtly flared his nostrils to fill his lungs with it—even after days of not bathing, forging through the sweltering jungle, their scent was intoxicating. He felt himself swelling beneath the tattered remnants of his tunic, and pushed down against it with his palms. Nur-Ayya felt his thigh tense and her gaze fell. Gently, she reached and plucked his hand away, lifting it by the wrist. Yt’tai tied off the new bandage gently and exhaled softly over Araxes’ muzzle. She did not step back, but instead lowered her hand until it hovered a quarter of a fetlock over his rising erection, which easily carried the ragged scrap of fabric upward with it. But she resisted touching him, instead only plucking at the cloth, lifting it aside to expose his manhood to their sight. After several days traversing the humid jungle, it stank to Araxes, its mahogany skin glistening with sweat and grime, but both Yt’tai and Nur-Ayya inhaled deeply.\n\n“It is gratifying to know that our closeness arouses you,” Nur-Ayya murmured into his ear, her breath warm against his cheek, then switched to Lamaye, a language Yt’tai did not speak. “Penis… large, pretty. Hard like rock. Handsome like Araxes.”\n\nAraxes took a shaky breath and boldly tilted his head, allowing his cheek to rest against hers. She leaned in, sliding their necks alongside one another, and then reached beneath Yt’tai’s hand with her own, giving Araxes’ swollen manhood a single, brief squeeze. Then she pulled back and stood. Araxes stared after her, his gaze lingering on her wide hips and muscular thighs. Yt’tai took the opportunity while unobserved to squeeze his manhood as well, rolling his foreskin back to expose his dark, faintly purplish glans, and he snapped his attention back to the healer. She flattened her ears back and gave him a cheeky grin, her palm briefly surrounding his glans.\n\n“Thicker than many,” she observed, then lifted her hand to her muzzle and inhaled deeply. \n\nThe sound of a horn being blown echoed through the dense jungle, and Nur-Ayya turned towards it. \n\n“Veyo is through! Come, we proceed.”\n\nAraxes’ erection took many minutes to subside.\n\n[center]*[/center]\n\nThe pathfinding by Veyo, Nenwoh and Yattah was, as it turned out, highly necessary. The last half-mile of barrier jungle was incredibly dense—almost impassable, Araxes thought. It felt as though they pushed and plucked their way through a tunnel beneath the ground rather than over it. It was almost completely dark. They were climbing sharply, though, towards the crest of some unseen ridge buried under the festering jungle. \n\nYt’tai walked ahead of Araxes, and Nur-Ayya behind him. The Lamaye giraffe was breathing hard and dripping with sweat by the time the undergrowth finally began to thin enough that he could see further than a few paces in any direction. Ahead was a wall of mossy, glistening rock, into which a narrow tunnel had been carved. It looked impossibly ancient, and it made Araxes realise that the moss-choked ground on which he had been walking was not naturally occurring; it was constructed. Stones carved and laid to build a stair that led to this very point. Around the entrance to the tunnel, Veyo, Nenwoh and Yattah squatted in the loam, eating and drinking. They stood as Nur-Ayya, Araxes and Yt’tai approached, and Veyo motioned to them to refill their waterskins from a clear stream that trickled down the rock face.\n\n“Come, we enter,” Nur-Ayya prompted.\n\n“In there?” Araxes said, his voice breaking. The tunnel was pitch dark, narrow and foreboding. \n\n“Have no fear, Araxes. I shall protect you,” Nur-Ayya said. “Think of entering this tunnel as though you are entering me… I look frightening and imposing on the outside, but within, I am filled with wonders you have never felt…”\n\nShe pressed up against his back, and Araxes could feel the subtle curve of her pubic mound against his buttock, nestled between thighs that felt as if they were carved from granite. That gave Araxes something pleasant to think about, to distract him from the blackness of the tunnel that laid ahead. Veyo flashed him a glance and very deliberately flicked aside a fold of her sari, offering the Lamaye a tantalising glimpse of her womanhood. Then she plunged into the darkness, clicking her tongue repeatedly to mark her location. \n\nThe tunnel was just barely wide enough for the strongly-built Y’Dasz to squeeze through single-file, their heads held low and spears carried horizontally. Each of them made a point of tapping the sharpened tip of their spears against the tunnel wall as they moved to mark the presence of the blades, presumably to prevent accidental injury. Araxes felt his ossicones graze the ceiling of the tunnel once or twice along its hundred-pace length, but otherwise he did not need to stoop. Nur-Ayya, meanwhile, complained of needing to bend almost double to fit. The tunnel curved around on itself wildly several times, and then Araxes realised he could see where he was going, if only vaguely—it was growing lighter. And the oppressive heat of the jungle seemed to be reducing; indeed he could feel a cool, fresh breeze on his face from ahead. Veyo’s tongue-clicks ceased, and one by one the party of giraffes emerged from the tunnel—revealing an extensive cavern, carved out of the bedrock over countless millennia by water which bubbled up from deep below in a dozen glittering, crystal-clear pools, which overflowed, converged, flowed through the cavern and roared out into…somewhere else. \n\nThe stony floor of the cavern was smooth under Araxes’ hooves, and he finally located the origin point of the dim light that filled the underground space. Far above, a complex fissure had opened. A tangle of roots hung through it, and a sharply angled shaft of sunlight sliced across the cavern like a blade through a coconut. Under its glow, a strip of mosses, lichens and even some small ferns and understorey plants eked out a living from their precious few moments of daily sunlight. In the darker corners of the cavern, glow-worms and softly bioluminescent slimes and fungi emitted an eerie, otherworldly glow. It was a truly awe-inspiring place. It felt sacred, to Araxes, and his feeling was proven correct when each of the Y’Dasz in turn laid their weapons on the ground and knelt beside a tiny rockpool off to the side from one of the main pools.\n\n“The source of all life,” Nur-Ayya murmured to Araxes reverently, casting her hand around the cavern. “Amel causes the waters to come forth from the depths of the world, cleansed by the stone that is the Bones of Ammunash. The water is filled with Aethyr when it enters this place, and carries the energy that sustains the whole Garden into the multitude of rivers beyond. You must not drink the water within the cavern, Araxes. Do not be tempted.”\n\nShe reiterated the latter warning in Lamaye, and Araxes felt shivers run up his spine at Nur-Ayya’s words even if he did not understand them all. He moved forward and knelt alongside the Y’Dasz while Nur-Ayya spoke an incantation and sprinkled each of them in turn with sacred water from the tiny rockpool. It was a deeply moving experience for Araxes, and he gazed into the shimmering pool. Around its edge, tiny silvery-green crystals clung to the granite around the waterline. \n\nThen Nur-Ayya led them through the cavern, stepping carefully from stone to stone in a path that was clearly very well-worn. Here and there, evidence of regular visitation was visible. A clay cup. A small tower of pebbles, stacked one atop the other so delicately that the faintest knock would send them tumbling. An unlit torch, and a waxcloth-wrapped flint. But the thing that caught Araxes’ attention the most was the art that adorned the cavern walls. It was everywhere. What had from a distance seemed like the texture of the stone was, in fact, thousands of generations of layered handprints, outlined in sprays of ochre, clay, resin and strange dyes that Araxes could not identify. There were more of them than he could even estimate and ranged in size from that of a newborn calf, to hands twice the size of his own.\n\n“Ancestors,” Yt’tai said from behind Araxes, noticing his interest. “Sacred place.”\n\n“Come,” Nur-Ayya prompted, “it is unwise for the uninitiated to linger in this place. The shadows grow restless.”\n\nAraxes gulped, and his mind convinced him he could feel spidery fingers reaching out of the darkness for him. He needed no further encouragement.\n\nAs awed as he was by the cavern of the ancestors, nothing could have prepared him for the immensity of Ammunash’s Garden. \n\n[center]*[/center]\n\n "
    },
    ".description.json": {
      "description": "Chapter 2 (of 8) of Cultural Relations - Commissioned by IrvingWrites!\n\nEvents conspire to force Shuva's hand.\nAraxes is discovered by the dreaded Y'Dasz Forest Demons.\n\nBut the cautionary tales of the Lamaye, that the Y'Dasz are bloodthirsty cannibals who kill and eat weak Lamaye men, seem... not to be true. "
    },
    ".writing.json": {
      "writing": "[center]Cultural Relations[/center]\n\n[center]Part 2[/center]\n\n[center]©2025 Bruno Hirschkoff[/center]\n\n[center]For Irving[/center]\n\n[center] [/center]\n\n[center][i]The following is a work of erotic fiction intended solely for adult audiences. It is not intended for commercial publication nor for widespread distribution without the permission of the Author. The Author asserts the exclusive right of ownership of Asantrea, and all characters, settings, concepts, locations and events described herein.[/i][/center]\n\n[center][i] [/i][/center]\n\n[center][i]Approx 7,300 words / 35 minutes reading time[/i][/center]\n\n[center][i] [/i][/center]\n\n[center][u]Chapter 2[/u][/center]\n\n“Sheqi, Nur-Ayya! Lur a’amadeti!”\n\n“Lah! Raq’ahbat.”\n\n“Esti Lamaye-ur?”\n\nAraxes’ head was pounding. The strange voices plucked at the periphery of his consciousness like a savannah beetle picking at the frayed edges of a blanket. The young giraffe’s diaphragm spasmed, and he suddenly coughed violently and surged upright. \n\n“Ay, ay, tik’tur! Tik’tur. Lah, meshti.”\n\nA clay bowl filled with water was thrust into Araxes’ cloudy vision. He tried to lift his arms to take it, but they would not respond, and he felt water moistening his lips. He coughed and worked his throat, then eventually regained enough strength to hold the bowl himself and sip carefully. Why couldn’t he see properly? He forced his eyes wide open and blinked rapidly. \n\nHe wasn’t blind. It was night. \n\nHe’d been unconscious for most of the day, laying naked under the baking suns beside the giraffe’s-head rock. \n\n“Ur-Lamaye, lah.”\n\nAraxes’ consciousness gradually crystallised and he sipped water from the clay bowl again. There were several heavy, solid-seeming figures looming in the darkness around him. None of them carried torches. They continued to converse in a language that was foreign to Araxes, but somehow familiar. He recognised elements of it. Abruptly, Araxes realised why the shadowy figures around him sounded… strange. Their voices were deep, but not as deep as those of Lamaye warriors. These were women. But they were unquestionably warriors. Each of them carried a spear strapped to their backs. \n\nY’Dasz raiders. Forest demons. \n\nAraxes’ blood turned to ice in his veins. His time was done. He muttered a prayer to Amel, to ask the Goddess to ease his passage to the Void.\n\n[center]*[/center]\n\nNur-Ayya held up her hand to call a halt. Kesh and Aror were hanging low in the sky, just kissing the western horizon ahead of their journey beneath the world. The transit of Saliel was only days away, and the Y’Dasz knew that such cosmic events were popular times for the northern tribes to enact a variety of rituals and practices. Nur-Ayya squatted in the dense undergrowth at the edge of the forest along with four of her spear-sisters. All were as silent and as still as standing stones, their distinctive pelts daubed with clay and long strips of cloth wrapped around their bodies, both for camouflage and protection from the suns and the insects that swarmed on the fringes of the jungle. They were on patrol along the northern frontier of the great green vastness of Ammunash’s Garden, although all of the Y’Dasz women knew that what was at stake was not territorial assertion. \n\nFor as long as Nur-Ayya had accompanied her sisters on these raids, the Lamaye tribe of the northern savannah had been leaving their brethren out to die, and her people, the Y’Dasz, had been there to take them in. To offer them life. And so much more. Nur-Ayya knew the lore; the Lamaye thought they were strengthening their ranks, weeding out the weakest and least warlike of their males and offering them as sacrifices to Bezar, the god of warriors and fire, and the forger of souls. Whether the Y’Dasz took them in or not, the Lamaye continued to abandon their people on the fringes of Ammunash’s Garden. On Nur-Ayya’s first patrol, she and her spear-sisters had found three young Lamaye men, all of them beaten and restrained. Only one was still alive, the other two having succumbed to thirst in the heat. The discovery had strengthened Nur-Ayya’s resolve. If the Lamaye did not see any value in those they so brutally abandoned, the Y’Dasz certainly would.\n\nSo when Veyo, the youngest of Nur-Ayya’s company of spear-sisters and a Pathfinder, called out that she had found a live one, Nur-Ayya’s blood quickened. They had already visited the places where the Lamaye usually left offerings to Bezar, and had found four corpses, all of them speared and left to bleed out on the baking stone of Bezar’s Anvil. Criminals, executed for crimes unknown—two antelope and two zebra, one of them scarcely more than a boy.\n\n“Over here, Nur-Ayya! Come quickly!” Veyo called.\n\n“I hear you! Stand clear.”\n\nNur-Ayya moved up alongside Veyo, who straightened and hovered over her shoulder. \n\n“Is he Lamaye?”\n\nAt her hooves, Nur-Ayya saw a crumpled heap of mahogany-patched fur. He was naked, his tunic torn and discarded a short distance away, and did not have any of the ritual scars on his skinny chest of which the Lamaye were so fond. He had not been initiated, then. Abruptly, his ragged breath caught and he surged upward, coughing violently to clear his windpipe. Veyo jumped. \n\n“Ay, ay, calmly. Calmly! I hear you. Hello,” Nur-Ayya said, patting the skinny giraffe’s back and offering him a bowl of water. \n\nHe attempted to take the bowl but could not control his arms, so Nur-Ayya held the back of his neck and gently tipped the bowl to moisten his lips. He slowly took a little water, then took the bowl shakily. He sipped, spat, then took a drink. He was confused and weak. Dried blood matted the side of his head and his pelt was caked in dirt, salt and sweat. Clearly he’d been here all through the heat of the day and was severely dehydrated, although Nur-Ayya took some heart from realising that he was not restrained.\n\n“He is Lamaye, yes,” she said to Veyo.\n\nVeyo leaned closer to inspect their discovery, leaning on the haft of her spear with her ears sharply pricked forward, clearly intrigued by his nudity as much as anything else. “Why do they do this, Nur-Ayya? They throw away their best menfolk for the suns and the vultures.”\n\n“Only the gods and their worldly brethren truly know,” Nur-Ayya said, her voice tinged with sadness. “And it is our curse that we cannot expect an answer. You have done well, Veyo, I am proud of you. Your very first outing as a spear-sister and you have saved a life…and brought a blessing upon your people.”\n\nThe elder giraffe cupped her hand at the nape of Veyo’s neck and brought their heads together, bumping their velvety ossicones gently for a moment, before releasing the younger woman. Nur-Ayya fell into an easy squat beside the skinny Lamaye giraffe and cast her eye over him in the darkness. No sooner had his consciousness fully returned than fear etched into his features. The Lamaye still told their fairy-tales to their calves about the evil Forest Demons. Nur-Ayya suppressed a chuckle and clapped the skinny giraffe on the shoulder. He almost toppled over. \n\n“With us, coming, you,” Nur-Ayya said to him, in halting Lamaye. \n\nThe young giraffe’s eyes almost popped out of his skull. He stammered and crawled backwards on his hands. Nur-Ayya followed him with languid steps. \n\n“Wh-who are you? Where am I?” he managed, in a cracked and dry voice. \n\n“You are taking… blow to head. Ahh, self, am calling Nur-Ayya, daughter Ayya-Yurah, Aethyrsage of Y’Dasz, following of Amel, following of Dytaea. How… you are calling self?”\n\nThe skinny Lamaye’s mouth fell open. He groaned and held the side of his head. \n\n“Being careful not…thinking hard, brains fall out of hole in head!” Nur-Ayya joked. “Tell your name to me.”\n\n“A-Araxes. I am Araxes. You… your people worship Amel?”\n\nNur-Ayya tilted her head in confusion. Did the Lamaye not know of the plight of the Y’Dasz? “Yes, Amel is being… goddess of us. Amel of Rivers, Dytaea of forests. Goddess… not hearing… before-ago-many. Reason coming, you.”\n\nNur-Ayya turned and spoke briefly in Y’Dasz, and the four other giraffe women shared a laugh. Then she stooped and picked up Araxes’ torn tunic. She inspected it for a moment, and then ripped it open further to form it into a long strip of fabric made from several pieces tied end on end, which she offered to Araxes. He stared at it dumbly, and then up at Nur-Ayya, who held out a hand to him. \n\n“Covering ahh… spear, Araxes. Spear sisters… interest, having. [i]Shaka’hakt.”[/i]\n\nAraxes watched her carefully for a moment, and then seemed to resign himself to his fate. He raised his hand shakily to Nur-Ayya’s, and allowed her to pull him to his hooves. Immediately, he stumbled and fell heavily against the Y’Dasz woman, and she caught him in her arms. \n\n“[i]Lah, tik’tur[/i]. You cannot standing. Injured… no water inside. Veyo? [i]Sheqi, lur-khama’akti Araxes?”[/i]\n\nThe young spear-sister handed her weapon to another woman, and stood facing Araxes with undisguised fascination, while Nur-Ayya wrapped the long strip of fabric that used to be his tunic around his body to form a kind of sari that hung from one shoulder and wrapped around his waist to cover him. \n\n“Veyo carrying you, Araxes,” she explained. “Until you… healing, walking. Veyo strong. Araxes drinking much water.”\n\nVeyo looked ravenous. Araxes shrank back as she stepped forward, and reached to touch his shoulder. She was tall, strong and proud, and Nur-Ayya noticed him struggling not to stare at her considerable bust. Then Veyo turned her back to him and fell into a squat, and Nur-Ayya prodded him forward to climb onto Veyo’s back. Veyo captured his legs in her hands, and he loosely wrapped his arms around her neck. Then she rose to her hooves, and conversed briefly with Nur-Ayya, who laughed. \n\n“Veyo saying… Araxes weighing, like ahh… like feather,” Nur-Ayya said, for Araxes’ benefit.\n\nThen, with Araxes on her back, Veyo followed Nur-Ayya and her spear-sisters south, towards the inky blackness of the jungle. They did not speak much until they were well within the darkness of the dense vegetation, and when Nur-Ayya checked, she found Araxes dozing fitfully with his head hanging forward over Veyo’s shoulder and his arms loosely wrapped around her. Nur-Ayya shared a warm smile with Veyo. \n\n“He feels safe already,” she observed to Veyo. “He sleeps.”\n\nVeyo grunted. “He is careful not to touch my tits.”\n\nNur-Ayya laughed. “He will be shocked to learn what you are like.”\n\n[center]*[/center]\n\n“Shuva. Report.”\n\nShuva entered the baking heat of Isaeos’ hut and knelt before the Chieftain’s throne. He was naked in its glittering embrace, with scented oils being massaged into his pelt by two young women, clad in nothing more than tiny silk loincloths. Arashi was one of them, and Shuva swallowed the bile that rose in his throat with difficulty.\n\n“Father, Chieftain—your will has been fulfilled. Those souls promised to Bezar’s glory have been delivered by Lamaye hands, and the Forest Demons claimed their own sacrifice as you commanded. I saw to it myself.”\n\nIsaeos was silent. The Chieftain regarded Shuva with a burning intensity for an uncomfortably long time, and then rose from his throne, shrugging off his attendants. Shuva averted his gaze.\n\n“Is that the truth, Shuva?”\n\nThe Chieftain’s words were framed as a question, but one which dripped with intent. \n\n“Aye, Father—I broke off from the patrol group to lay in wait for the shaman’s child, and ensured that he was left in a place where the Forest Demons would discover him,” Shuva said carefully.\n\n“You speak the truth—the Y’Dasz did indeed find their quarry. But not by your hand. My agents found the condemned soul unbound and fleeing, to a place where water and food had been hidden. It was they who fulfilled my will—not you.”\n\nOaal and Xanaf stepped into the hut’s audience space from behind a heavy curtain of beads, behind which both men had been receiving a similar treatment to the Chieftain. Both emerged with their spears levelled at the Chieftain’s son. Shuva’s blood ran cold, even in the sweltering oven of Isaeos’ hut. For a brief moment, his gaze met that of Arashi, and she returned it with the tiniest motion of her head. Shuva realised with certainty that his double-existence had been discovered, and the game was up. He’d pushed his luck too far.\n\n“Oaal, Xanaf… the coward and the bully,” Shuva snarled. \n\n“A coward and a bully, but at least we are not traitors,” Xanaf snapped back at him.\n\nShuva surged upward, knocked aside his spear and punched him squarely in the jaw. \n\n[i]“Enough!” [/i]roared Isaeos, as Xanaf recovered and raised his spear to Shuva. “You leave me in a predicament, Shuva. You are a traitor to your Chieftain, to your people, and to Bezar. You are also the heir to this throne. I cannot allow you, of all men, to not be answerable to such a serious crime. Especially not where your crime has [i]witnesses.[/i]”\n\n“So you will condemn your son and heir to die for a single act of kindness, on the word of these two spineless cowards? They would tell you anything to gain your favour. I had not realised you were such an insecure ruler to be secretively surrounding yourself with such dregs,” Shuva intoned calmly, rage sparking in his blood and firing his courage—the flame of the Bezari. “My gift to Araxes was to ensure he remains alive for the Y’Dasz to find, not for him to flee! Where could he go?”\n\nIseaos turned and ran a hand over the curve of Arashi’s waist, pulling her bodily against himself. \n\n“To the Sagunu,” Isaeos stated. “He would run west. Come, how simple do you believe us all to be?”\n\nSilently, the Chieftain held out his other hand, into which Oaal deposited the waterskin and empty food pack that Shuva had left for Araxes.\n\n“And… you are right, my son—the word of a bully and a coward is worth nothing to me. Evidence, however… It will take many years to raise another son to replace you, although the means to do so is right before me, and I will take great pleasure in planting my seed in her fertile fields… breaking her mind and body to my will.”\n\nIsaeos gripped Arashi’s jaw roughly in his hand and twisted her head back to drag his purple tongue slimily along her throat. She grimaced and clenched her hands into fists. Shuva’s fists clenched likewise.\n\nThe tension between Chieftain and son was electric. \n\nOblivious, Oaal gave Xanaf a lecherous grin, and appeared to be becoming aroused at the mere prospect of witnessing the Chieftain take Arashi. Xanaf, distracted, slapped at Oaal’s rising erection, and Oaal twisted away from his companion with a bleat, instigating a scuffle between them. Isaeos spun angrily to face the two, and in that split second, he let his guard down. \n\nArashi moved like liquid lightning. \n\nShuva did not, at first, discern the movement from Arashi’s hands. It was as if the Chieftain’s hut abruptly exploded into blood and combat. The Chieftain’s hands wrenched Oaal and Xanaf apart, and in that moment, a tiny obsidian blade concealed within Arashi’s loincloth flashed in the firelight. Isaeos grunted in shock as his leg collapsed beneath him. He fell heavily to one knee, arterial blood gushing from a wound in his groin. It was a mortal wound on its own, but Isaeos remained dangerous. He dodged aside from a second attack aimed at his jugular. He roared in rage and spun on his knee, sending Arashi flying across the hut with a blow from the back of his hand. \n\nShuva skipped backward and squatted in a warrior’s crouch near to the hut’s entrance. \n\nThis was not meant to happen. Not yet. But the idiotic Oaal and his scheming friend Xanaf were forcing his hand. \n\nShuva knew what needed to happen. He needed a weapon.\n\nHis eye moved across the spears held by Oaal and Xanaf. Too far away, and too unwieldy. The tiny obsidian blade was beneath Isaeos while he gripped and squeezed his groin, attempting to stem the bleeding. Too close, and he would be forced onto the floor to retrieve it, a dangerous position. \n\nThen his eye fell to the ceremonial bronze dagger in a scabbard on his father’s thigh. There was an opportunity for him to redeem himself, redeem his tribe, and save Arashi from what would now be certain death. But it meant killing his father. His Chieftain. An Aethyr-touched Bezari. A warrior born, with the blood of the god of war in his veins. And probably Oaal and Xanaf as well. Shuva’s hands clenched into the reed mats on the floor of the hut. It was life or death for everyone in the hut in that moment—the only question remaining was, who would live, and who would die. The passage of time seemed to slow to a crawl for Shuva. \n\nHe, too, carried the blood of Bezar.\n\nHe took a deep breath, tensed his thighs, and erupted out of his crouch.\n\nIn two strides he cleared the firepit in the centre of the hut, and came down heavily with his knee to Isaeos’ chest, forcing the Chieftain to fall backward and crack his head against the edge of the throne. Shuva’s hand closed around the hilt of the dagger, and it rang like silver as he drew it. The blade glinted in the firelight. Blood roared in his ears. Isaeos was momentarily dazed from the blow to his head. Blood spurted from the wound to his groin. \n\nShuva raised the dagger high over his father’s prone body, and plunged it into the Bezari Chieftain’s throat, spearing his heart.\n\nHis blood was like magma in his veins. The power was [i]intoxicating[/i]. He inhaled deeply, feeling Isaeos’ lifeblood pulsing forth over the hilt of the dagger. \n\nShuva felt the point of Xanaf’s spear graze past his ribs in a poorly-aimed thrust, and heard Oaal bawling for him to surrender. \n\nHe wrenched the blood-soaked dagger out of Isaeos’ dying body and rose smoothly to his hooves, turning to face the two. He batted aside another weak thrust from Xanaf’s spear as though it were a mosquito in his ear, sending the weapon clattering to the floor. Both recoiled from his smouldering rage. His hand closed around the haft of Oaal’s spear, and snapped it like a dry twig. Then he flung the liberated blade aside and drove the ceremonial dagger into Xanaf’s shoulder. He fell heavily, clutching the blade protruding over his collarbone. Oaal fell over backwards and pissed himself in fear. Shuva advanced, drenched in sweat and speckled with blood. He picked up Xanaf’s spear, reversed it, and used the butt to knock Oaal unconscious. Then he bound the wrists of both initiates, and gagged them for good measure. Neither of their wounds seemed mortal—as much as Shuva wanted to kill them, to bathe in their blood, his rage was tempered by Arashi’s presence and his devotion to Amel. In his mind Shuva had already formulated the bones of a plan, to pin the murder of the Chieftain on them, if he needed to. And for that, he needed them alive.\n\nShuva then turned his attention to Arashi. She was unconscious, but breathing normally and did not seem seriously injured. The tiny obsidian blade was barely two inches in length but viciously sharp, and Shuva retrieved it from where it had fallen. He placed it on Oaal’s unconscious body, then returned to the Sagunu woman. The weight of the events of less than fifty heartbeats finally began to settle on Shuva’s shoulders. He knew he had a hard road ahead of him to gain the loyalty of the Lamaye, particularly those who were devotees of his father. He gently pulled Arashi into his arms and stroked her cheek.\n\nIsaeos finally died with a rattling groan. The hut was drenched in blood.\n\n“Amel forgive me,” murmured the new Chieftain of the Lamaye to Arashi, as his blood cooled. “With you at my side, and the River Goddess’ blessing, I shall guide our people back to the light.”\n\nBut doubt smouldered in his heart. \n\nBecause he had [i]enjoyed [/i]the feeling of killing. \n\n[center]*[/center]\n\nAraxes squatted dejectedly in the sodden loam of the forest floor. A persistent, soaking rain had deepened the already gloomy depths of the dense jungle, drowning the air in a sullen torpidity that was entirely alien to the young Lamaye. Veyo had carried him throughout the remainder of the night and all of the following day, and finally as the dull light of day began to dim into darkness once again, the company of Y’Dasz spear-sisters stopped to rest. The jungle had been relatively sparse and navigable to begin with, although to Araxes it had looked impenetrable from the start. But the deeper they ventured into its depths, the denser it became, until it was a choking morass of sweltering misery.\n\nHis hooves sank into choking undergrowth and mud the moment they hit the ground, and Araxes found himself wondering how anyone could stand to live in such a place. All around him, Y’Dasz warrior women laughed and conversed in their own tongue, all but ignoring his presence and seemingly unbothered by the tropical deluge. The forest they travelled through never seemed to vary in the slightest. In every direction, it was an impenetrable wall of writhing, sodden green. Even overhead. Araxes had not seen the sky all day. There was no point in attempting an escape into such a place. Araxes was hopelessly lost and had no clue of even what direction they were travelling, although south seemed a reasonable assumption. Even if he did escape and somehow make it back to Lamaye territory, his own people would sacrifice him to Bezar. \n\nHe hesitated to believe Nur-Ayya when she said that the Y’Dasz were devotees of Amel. The river goddess was known to be a benevolent and kind deity; she would not think of having cannibals and killers among her flock, nor any who worshipped Aktis, the Keeper of Souls. But then, nor had Araxes seen any evidence of the tales his people told of the Y’Dasz. \n\n“Will soon enjoying… return to Ammunash’s Garden,” Nyr-Ayya said in slow, broken Lamaye, approaching Araxes with a woven basket of fruits and wild nuts the spear-sisters had foraged.\n\nAraxes gave her a look of confusion, needing to tilt his head back to meet her gaze, so much taller was she than him. “But we are already [i]in [/i]Ammunash’s Garden!”\n\nNur-Ayya laughed. “[i]This [/i]place? Garden? Y’Dasz… not here living, sweating place! Garden… further. Onward-next. Sweating place… barrier. Few pass, knowing how. You next-like-soon Garden, I thinking.”\n\n“What is to happen to me? You do not seem like the demons my people are so afraid of. Am I to be sacrificed? What of the other Lamaye your people have taken?”\n\nNur-Ayya fixed him with a penetrating stare. She had clearly not understood the nuance of his words, nor their implication. “Other Lamaye…before-ing, ago, yes, taking.”\n\nAraxes mistook her misunderstanding as evasiveness, and a cold shiver ran up his spine. [i]It is true, [/i]he thought. [i]They kill and eat us. Perhaps they save us until the whole village can join in like some dark feast, and that is why they have not killed me yet…[/i]\n\nAraxes sat on a fallen tree and ate fitfully when prompted by Nur-Ayya, and when Veyo approached him with open curiosity and a bowl filled with fresh water, he tentatively accepted it and drank his fill. She stared at him throughout, and then she reached to adjust the remains of his tunic on his skinny hip. Araxes recoiled and spilt water over himself. It made little difference, as drenched with rain and sweat as he already was, but Veyo immediately knelt in front of him and began to fuss over him, lifting the front flap of his sari to mop water from his pelt and wringing it out. Higher and higher up his torso she moved, and Araxes realised that she was quite deliberately exposing his manhood to her view, which she openly stared at. Unbidden, his body responded to her closeness. With all of the horrors he had endured lately and for the longest time, Araxes could not remember his last moment of sexual release, and his blood quickened in his veins despite his fear and the uncertainty of the Y’Dasz’ intentions. Veyo noticed his predicament and murmured in husky Y’Dasz something which Araxes thought to mean ‘I see you, hello.’\n\nAbruptly, Nur-Ayya’s hand rested on Veyo’s shoulder, and the younger spear-sister exhaled in frustration and drew away from Araxes. The two Y’Dasz women exchanged a few words, and Veyo retreated. \n\n“Forgiving Veyo. Young, excited she is. Wanting man. Feeling spear on back all day, saying,” Nur-Ayya laughed, sitting beside him. \n\nVeyo had retreated to the company of the three other spear-sisters a short distance away, and was clearly discussing Araxes with some degree of bawdiness, based on her hand movements and the laughter of her sisters. She made eye contact with Araxes and lifted the front of her sari to expose herself to him, allowing her long, purple tongue to fall suggestively from her lips. Araxes looked away with a start, feeling his ears burning. What truly took Araxes’ breath away, though, was that Veyo then began to openly pleasure herself, maintaining a casual conversation with the other Y’Dasz women while she did. It was as though she were doing nothing unexpected—repairing a foraging basket or sharpening a spear, perhaps, not openly rubbing her genitals in full view of her companions. He tried to force himself not to look directly upon her, but she remained in the periphery of his vision. Araxes had never known a woman to be so ribald, either in her interest in him or her actions, and he had never before witnessed a woman’s sexual pleasure. His arousal surged upright and throbbed persistently, unable to be entirely concealed by the ragged scraps of fabric that were his only covering, right up until Veyo hunched over herself, bucking and trembling through an orgasm. Then, as casually as if nothing had occurred, she returned to where Araxes and Nur-Ayya sat. A brief conversation ensued, during which Veyo’s gaze never left Araxes. She had closed her sari only just far enough to barely conceal her nudity, and Araxes stared openly.\n\n“Veyo… saying apologising,” Nur-Ayya translated for Araxes. “Women desiring ahh… different among Y’Dasz. Y’Dasz women having… no ahh… no shaming for desire of body.”\n\nVeyo raised Nur-Ayya’s hand to her lips and kissed her knuckles, and then retreated once again. \n\n“Araxes needing ahh… no fearing of Y’Dasz,” Nur-Ayya said to him, placing her hand on his knee. “Y’Dasz caring, loving, protecting Araxes.”\n\nAraxes’ ears pricked forward and he raised his muzzle to meet Nur-Ayya’s gaze. In the darkness of the jungle, she looked fearsome and powerful still, but her expression was gentle and neither she nor any of the spear-sisters had made any attempt to hurt him. Slowly, Araxes began to have hope that he was indeed in no danger. \n\n“Why did you stop Veyo?” he asked Nur-Ayya after a long silence. \n\nNur-Ayya laughed heartily and clapped him on the shoulder. “Araxes enjoying attentions? Good! Ahh, next-soon, returning Garden. Soon-after-then, Araxes… meeting Ayya-Yurah, mother Nur-Ayya. Accepting Araxes to Y’Dasz. After-next, no more stopping.”\n\nAraxes’ heart quickened, although for the first time it was not from fear. Nur-Ayya was sitting close to him, and was casting sidelong looks at him as if she wanted nothing more than to touch him, but was restraining herself with some effort. At length, Araxes shuffled a little closer to her, until their hips touched. Nur-Ayya inhaled sharply and he felt her tense up, then slowly relax. Her strong arm snaked around his waist, and Araxes forced himself to look anywhere but at the rain-drenched sari which did very little to conceal Nur-Ayya’s breasts. He could clearly see the peaks of her nipples beneath the fabric, and felt his body reacting once again. \n\n“Should not… touching, yet,” Nur-Ayya murmured in his ear after a long moment of contact. “Tempting, smelling of male. Making difficult. Making wet.”\n\nShe exhaled shakily over his ear and gave his upper thigh a firm, lengthy squeeze beneath his sari, then pulled away from him with obvious reluctance. Nur-Ayya rose to her hooves, and glanced around at her spear-sisters. Then, to Araxes shock, she pulled open the binding of her sari and allowed it to fall open, exposing her body almost full-frontal to his view. His mouth fell open in shock and arousal. She was stunning. Muscular, curvaceous, soft, all at once. Her heavy breasts were full and round, her pelt matted to her skin with sweat and the remnants of the sun-protection clay. And below, Araxes’ eye sought the curve of her womanhood. Her sari concealed it still, but she dipped a finger behind it, and drew forth a web of stretchy slickness. \n\n“Wet, Araxes making,” she stated.\n\nThen, to his disappointment, she tied her sari closed once more.\n\nNur-Ayya remained with Araxes for the remainder of that night, and slept alongside him—which seemed to be her way of protecting him from Veyo. Araxes slept more peacefully than he had in a long time. He felt safe, with the very people he was warned for his entire life would kill and eat him.\n\n[center]*[/center]\n\nAyya-Yurah breathed deeply of the heady haze of incense that filled her hut, some thirty fetlocks above the forest floor among the lowest boughs of the vast, intertwined trees. Nets hung around the inside of the hut were filled with bioluminescent fungi, casting a purplish-blue glow across the space. She spoke the Aethyric incantation that would bring her an image of her daughter through the clay bowl of water held before her by two male giraffes, one of whom was very likely the father of the calf which distended the Aethyrsage’s womb—although which of them had sired that calf was neither known, nor given much importance. Ayya-Yurah added two drops of an inky resin to the water, and the surface rippled and swirled. Ayya-Yurah’s perception of the real world fell into the background of her consciousness, and instead she was seeing what her daughter saw, as though through her eyes. \n\nThey were nearing the Garden. Nur-Ayya led her group of spear-sisters, and they were laughing and speaking freely. They seemed happy, although Ayya-Yurah could not hear their words—rather, she could feel her daughter’s emotions. Happiness, anticipation, and… arousal? Lust? Yes, those were definitely present. Beside Nur-Ayya, Veyo was clearing a path through the dense jungle. Her sari clung to her pelt, transparent with sweat and the perpetual humidity of the northern rainforest. The other spear-sisters were, presumably, behind Nur-Ayya. But Ayya-Yurah could feel another presence too—a male presence. The Aethyrsage’s blood quickened, and at that moment Nur-Ayya turned her head. \n\nThen Ayya-Yurah saw him. He was young and slender, and short for a giraffe. A field-poultice of moss and sap was bandaged to the side of his head with a strip of flaxtree bark, and he was dirty and dishevelled. But he was walking unaided, and Ayya-Yurah read from her daughter’s emotions that he was in better shape than the spear-sisters had found him in. As Nur-Ayya regarded him, apprehension flashed across his features. Evidently Nur-Ayya was speaking to him and his ears pricked forward to hear her. Then she turned away from him, and Ayya-Yurah saw precisely where they were.\n\nThe Aethyrsage dearly wanted to see the newcomer’s first reaction to what would shortly follow, but her vision began to cloud and distort. The scrying incantation only lasted a short time, and it was with some regret that Ayya-Yurah returned to her primary consciousness. She drank deeply from a clay cup of water that was handed to her by one of the male giraffes in her hut, and then rose slowly to her hooves, her hands guarding the gravid swelling of her pregnant belly.\n\n“They are coming. They will be with us soon, and they bring a blessing with them,” she said.\n\n[center]*[/center]\n\n[i]“A-lah, lah, bata’aik-ah.”[/i]\n\nAraxes was beginning to understand more of the Y’Dasz tongue, thanks to its similarities to the Lamaye language; enough to know that the spear-sister who was speaking to him intended him to stop fussing with the poultice she had applied to his head wound. It itched abominably, but Araxes knew that meant it was healing. Still, it was difficult to leave it alone and when he thought he was not being observed he would habitually press the heel of his palm against the resinous lump of pungent moss, relieving the burning itch even for only a moment. \n\nYt’tai was her name, Araxes learned from Nur-Ayya. She was learning how to dress wounds and treat illnesses as part of her warrior training. The concept was foreign to Araxes. In Lamaye lands, a warrior was a warrior alone—strength, martial skill and aggression were their only traits. Or, more commonly, demonstrated and unquestioning loyalty to the Chieftain. Yet even among these five Y’Dasz, all of whom were clearly warrior women, there was more diversity of skill than Araxes had seen among the entire fighting force of the Lamaye. Nur-Ayya was an Aethyrsage-in-waiting, a shamaness and a practitioner of magic. Veyo was a pathfinder; a sort of navigator, highly skilled in tracking and reading her environment. Yt’tai was a healer. The other spear-sisters, whose names were Nenwoh and Yattah, were a huntress and a forager, skilled in preparing food, weaving and weapon maintenance. All of them had a variety of skillsets outside of their martial roles. Araxes was beginning to feel just as useless among them as he had been among the Lamaye. What role could he possibly have?\n\nYt’tai fussed over his bandage, while Araxes sat glumly on a fallen log. Veyo had taken Nenwoh and Yattah ahead to clear a path through a particularly challenging section of terrain, leaving Araxes alone with Nur-Ayya and Yt’tai. She muttered and murmured to him while she prepared a new bandage, and slowly Araxes began to pick up more words. \n\n“Itches…burns, much,” he managed in Y’Dasz. \n\nYt’tai’s eyes opened wide and she stepped back from him as if he had spontaneously burst into flames. \n\nThe sound of Nur-Ayya’s laughter rippled across the forest, and she turned back to face him. \n\n“Clever, clever little Lamaye!” she exclaimed in her own tongue. “It is good to know that it is not only your [i]spear [/i]that is large and of great value to us, but your brains as well.”\n\nAraxes felt his muzzle burning at her implication, and self-consciously clasped his hands over his lap. Yt’tai gave him a look which Araxes took to be one of mirth, and leaned in to him once again—closer, this time—to clean his wound and apply fresh moss to it. Yt’tai was very much more finely built than Nur-Ayya and Veyo; she was strong and fit, but while Nur-Ayya was a powerful, muscular woman, Yt’tai was toned and lithe.\n\n“Few words,” he said to Yt’tai. “Sorrow… if wronging.”\n\nShe gave a low, throaty chuckle and cupped the nape of his neck, bringing their foreheads gently together to touch her ossicones to his own. Araxes stared down her sari into her modest cleavage, suddenly very aware that she was standing astride his right leg. “You have been among us for two days, yet you attempt to speak our language. Have no fear, and apologise for nothing.”\n\n“Yt’tai speaks the truth, Araxes. If we laugh at you, it is because you have said something which translates humorously, not because we are berating you,” said Nur-Ayya, sitting alongside him on the fallen log and resting her hand on his thigh.\n\nAraxes grit his teeth. He could smell both Y’Dasz women, and Nur-Ayya’s hip pressed against his. Her hand squeezed his thigh warmly. The spear-sisters’ feminine scents oozed from them, and he subtly flared his nostrils to fill his lungs with it—even after days of not bathing, forging through the sweltering jungle, their scent was intoxicating. He felt himself swelling beneath the tattered remnants of his tunic, and pushed down against it with his palms. Nur-Ayya felt his thigh tense and her gaze fell. Gently, she reached and plucked his hand away, lifting it by the wrist. Yt’tai tied off the new bandage gently and exhaled softly over Araxes’ muzzle. She did not step back, but instead lowered her hand until it hovered a quarter of a fetlock over his rising erection, which easily carried the ragged scrap of fabric upward with it. But she resisted touching him, instead only plucking at the cloth, lifting it aside to expose his manhood to their sight. After several days traversing the humid jungle, it stank to Araxes, its mahogany skin glistening with sweat and grime, but both Yt’tai and Nur-Ayya inhaled deeply.\n\n“It is gratifying to know that our closeness arouses you,” Nur-Ayya murmured into his ear, her breath warm against his cheek, then switched to Lamaye, a language Yt’tai did not speak. “Penis… large, pretty. Hard like rock. Handsome like Araxes.”\n\nAraxes took a shaky breath and boldly tilted his head, allowing his cheek to rest against hers. She leaned in, sliding their necks alongside one another, and then reached beneath Yt’tai’s hand with her own, giving Araxes’ swollen manhood a single, brief squeeze. Then she pulled back and stood. Araxes stared after her, his gaze lingering on her wide hips and muscular thighs. Yt’tai took the opportunity while unobserved to squeeze his manhood as well, rolling his foreskin back to expose his dark, faintly purplish glans, and he snapped his attention back to the healer. She flattened her ears back and gave him a cheeky grin, her palm briefly surrounding his glans.\n\n“Thicker than many,” she observed, then lifted her hand to her muzzle and inhaled deeply. \n\nThe sound of a horn being blown echoed through the dense jungle, and Nur-Ayya turned towards it. \n\n“Veyo is through! Come, we proceed.”\n\nAraxes’ erection took many minutes to subside.\n\n[center]*[/center]\n\nThe pathfinding by Veyo, Nenwoh and Yattah was, as it turned out, highly necessary. The last half-mile of barrier jungle was incredibly dense—almost impassable, Araxes thought. It felt as though they pushed and plucked their way through a tunnel beneath the ground rather than over it. It was almost completely dark. They were climbing sharply, though, towards the crest of some unseen ridge buried under the festering jungle. \n\nYt’tai walked ahead of Araxes, and Nur-Ayya behind him. The Lamaye giraffe was breathing hard and dripping with sweat by the time the undergrowth finally began to thin enough that he could see further than a few paces in any direction. Ahead was a wall of mossy, glistening rock, into which a narrow tunnel had been carved. It looked impossibly ancient, and it made Araxes realise that the moss-choked ground on which he had been walking was not naturally occurring; it was constructed. Stones carved and laid to build a stair that led to this very point. Around the entrance to the tunnel, Veyo, Nenwoh and Yattah squatted in the loam, eating and drinking. They stood as Nur-Ayya, Araxes and Yt’tai approached, and Veyo motioned to them to refill their waterskins from a clear stream that trickled down the rock face.\n\n“Come, we enter,” Nur-Ayya prompted.\n\n“In there?” Araxes said, his voice breaking. The tunnel was pitch dark, narrow and foreboding. \n\n“Have no fear, Araxes. I shall protect you,” Nur-Ayya said. “Think of entering this tunnel as though you are entering me… I look frightening and imposing on the outside, but within, I am filled with wonders you have never felt…”\n\nShe pressed up against his back, and Araxes could feel the subtle curve of her pubic mound against his buttock, nestled between thighs that felt as if they were carved from granite. That gave Araxes something pleasant to think about, to distract him from the blackness of the tunnel that laid ahead. Veyo flashed him a glance and very deliberately flicked aside a fold of her sari, offering the Lamaye a tantalising glimpse of her womanhood. Then she plunged into the darkness, clicking her tongue repeatedly to mark her location. \n\nThe tunnel was just barely wide enough for the strongly-built Y’Dasz to squeeze through single-file, their heads held low and spears carried horizontally. Each of them made a point of tapping the sharpened tip of their spears against the tunnel wall as they moved to mark the presence of the blades, presumably to prevent accidental injury. Araxes felt his ossicones graze the ceiling of the tunnel once or twice along its hundred-pace length, but otherwise he did not need to stoop. Nur-Ayya, meanwhile, complained of needing to bend almost double to fit. The tunnel curved around on itself wildly several times, and then Araxes realised he could see where he was going, if only vaguely—it was growing lighter. And the oppressive heat of the jungle seemed to be reducing; indeed he could feel a cool, fresh breeze on his face from ahead. Veyo’s tongue-clicks ceased, and one by one the party of giraffes emerged from the tunnel—revealing an extensive cavern, carved out of the bedrock over countless millennia by water which bubbled up from deep below in a dozen glittering, crystal-clear pools, which overflowed, converged, flowed through the cavern and roared out into…somewhere else. \n\nThe stony floor of the cavern was smooth under Araxes’ hooves, and he finally located the origin point of the dim light that filled the underground space. Far above, a complex fissure had opened. A tangle of roots hung through it, and a sharply angled shaft of sunlight sliced across the cavern like a blade through a coconut. Under its glow, a strip of mosses, lichens and even some small ferns and understorey plants eked out a living from their precious few moments of daily sunlight. In the darker corners of the cavern, glow-worms and softly bioluminescent slimes and fungi emitted an eerie, otherworldly glow. It was a truly awe-inspiring place. It felt sacred, to Araxes, and his feeling was proven correct when each of the Y’Dasz in turn laid their weapons on the ground and knelt beside a tiny rockpool off to the side from one of the main pools.\n\n“The source of all life,” Nur-Ayya murmured to Araxes reverently, casting her hand around the cavern. “Amel causes the waters to come forth from the depths of the world, cleansed by the stone that is the Bones of Ammunash. The water is filled with Aethyr when it enters this place, and carries the energy that sustains the whole Garden into the multitude of rivers beyond. You must not drink the water within the cavern, Araxes. Do not be tempted.”\n\nShe reiterated the latter warning in Lamaye, and Araxes felt shivers run up his spine at Nur-Ayya’s words even if he did not understand them all. He moved forward and knelt alongside the Y’Dasz while Nur-Ayya spoke an incantation and sprinkled each of them in turn with sacred water from the tiny rockpool. It was a deeply moving experience for Araxes, and he gazed into the shimmering pool. Around its edge, tiny silvery-green crystals clung to the granite around the waterline. \n\nThen Nur-Ayya led them through the cavern, stepping carefully from stone to stone in a path that was clearly very well-worn. Here and there, evidence of regular visitation was visible. A clay cup. A small tower of pebbles, stacked one atop the other so delicately that the faintest knock would send them tumbling. An unlit torch, and a waxcloth-wrapped flint. But the thing that caught Araxes’ attention the most was the art that adorned the cavern walls. It was everywhere. What had from a distance seemed like the texture of the stone was, in fact, thousands of generations of layered handprints, outlined in sprays of ochre, clay, resin and strange dyes that Araxes could not identify. There were more of them than he could even estimate and ranged in size from that of a newborn calf, to hands twice the size of his own.\n\n“Ancestors,” Yt’tai said from behind Araxes, noticing his interest. “Sacred place.”\n\n“Come,” Nur-Ayya prompted, “it is unwise for the uninitiated to linger in this place. The shadows grow restless.”\n\nAraxes gulped, and his mind convinced him he could feel spidery fingers reaching out of the darkness for him. He needed no further encouragement.\n\nAs awed as he was by the cavern of the ancestors, nothing could have prepared him for the immensity of Ammunash’s Garden. \n\n[center]*[/center]\n\n "
    }
  }
}

{
  "comments_count": "0",
  "create_datetime": "2026-04-17 06:57:06.35249+00",
  "create_datetime_usertime": "17 Apr 2026 08:57 CEST",
  "deleted": "f",
  "description": "Chapter 2 (of 8) of Cultural Relations - Commissioned by IrvingWrites!\n\nEvents conspire to force Shuva's hand.\nAraxes is discovered by the dreaded Y'Dasz Forest Demons.\n\nBut the cautionary tales of the Lamaye, that the Y'Dasz are bloodthirsty cannibals who kill and eat weak Lamaye men, seem... not to be true. ",
  "favorite": "f",
  "favorites_count": "0",
  "file_name": "5980107_BrunoHirschkoff_bh_cr_ch2_edit.doc",
  "file_url_full": "https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/files/full/5980/5980107_BrunoHirschkoff_bh_cr_ch2_edit.doc",
  "file_url_preview": "https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/files/preview/5980/5980107_BrunoHirschkoff_bh_cr_ch2_edit.doc",
  "file_url_screen": "https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/files/screen/5980/5980107_BrunoHirschkoff_bh_cr_ch2_edit.doc",
  "files": [
    {
      "create_datetime": "2026-04-17 06:55:18.907763+00",
      "create_datetime_usertime": "17 Apr 2026 08:55 CEST",
      "deleted": "f",
      "file_id": "5980107",
      "file_name": "5980107_BrunoHirschkoff_bh_cr_ch2_edit.doc",
      "file_url_full": "https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/files/full/5980/5980107_BrunoHirschkoff_bh_cr_ch2_edit.doc",
      "file_url_preview": "https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/files/preview/5980/5980107_BrunoHirschkoff_bh_cr_ch2_edit.doc",
      "file_url_screen": "https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/files/screen/5980/5980107_BrunoHirschkoff_bh_cr_ch2_edit.doc",
      "full_file_md5": "7cbd8d8736bed01a5c8e0132a51233aa",
      "full_size_x": null,
      "full_size_y": null,
      "initial_file_md5": "7cbd8d8736bed01a5c8e0132a51233aa",
      "large_file_md5": "",
      "mimetype": "application/msword",
      "preview_size_x": null,
      "preview_size_y": null,
      "screen_size_x": null,
      "screen_size_y": null,
      "small_file_md5": "",
      "submission_file_order": "0",
      "submission_id": "3852878",
      "thumb_huge_x": "300",
      "thumb_huge_y": "300",
      "thumb_large_x": "200",
      "thumb_large_y": "200",
      "thumb_medium_x": "120",
      "thumb_medium_y": "120",
      "thumbnail_md5": "570c50f99cb6057eb547e911a9d52fae",
      "thumbnail_url_huge": "https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/thumbnails/huge/5980/5980107_BrunoHirschkoff_bh_cr_ch2_edit.jpg",
      "thumbnail_url_large": "https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/thumbnails/large/5980/5980107_BrunoHirschkoff_bh_cr_ch2_edit.jpg",
      "thumbnail_url_medium": "https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/thumbnails/medium/5980/5980107_BrunoHirschkoff_bh_cr_ch2_edit.jpg",
      "user_id": "207272"
    }
  ],
  "friends_only": "f",
  "guest_block": "t",
  "hidden": "f",
  "keywords": [
    {
      "contributed": "f",
      "keyword_id": "291",
      "keyword_name": "adult",
      "submissions_count": "34441"
    },
    {
      "contributed": "f",
      "keyword_id": "678",
      "keyword_name": "anthro",
      "submissions_count": "246559"
    },
    {
      "contributed": "f",
      "keyword_id": "9108",
      "keyword_name": "breeding",
      "submissions_count": "11656"
    },
    {
      "contributed": "f",
      "keyword_id": "236430",
      "keyword_name": "casual masturbation",
      "submissions_count": "31"
    },
    {
      "contributed": "f",
      "keyword_id": "54686",
      "keyword_name": "casual nudity",
      "submissions_count": "6299"
    },
    {
      "contributed": "f",
      "keyword_id": "21442",
      "keyword_name": "character development",
      "submissions_count": "1409"
    },
    {
      "contributed": "f",
      "keyword_id": "2841",
      "keyword_name": "denial",
      "submissions_count": "1379"
    },
    {
      "contributed": "f",
      "keyword_id": "110",
      "keyword_name": "erotic",
      "submissions_count": "3539"
    },
    {
      "contributed": "f",
      "keyword_id": "2193",
      "keyword_name": "fantasy",
      "submissions_count": "27809"
    },
    {
      "contributed": "f",
      "keyword_id": "123",
      "keyword_name": "female",
      "submissions_count": "1156121"
    },
    {
      "contributed": "f",
      "keyword_id": "1413",
      "keyword_name": "fiction",
      "submissions_count": "925"
    },
    {
      "contributed": "f",
      "keyword_id": "5393",
      "keyword_name": "flashing",
      "submissions_count": "4433"
    },
    {
      "contributed": "f",
      "keyword_id": "3369",
      "keyword_name": "foreskin",
      "submissions_count": "29445"
    },
    {
      "contributed": "f",
      "keyword_id": "1594",
      "keyword_name": "giraffe",
      "submissions_count": "3388"
    },
    {
      "contributed": "f",
      "keyword_id": "4408",
      "keyword_name": "lust",
      "submissions_count": "2942"
    },
    {
      "contributed": "f",
      "keyword_id": "165",
      "keyword_name": "male",
      "submissions_count": "1269570"
    },
    {
      "contributed": "f",
      "keyword_id": "690",
      "keyword_name": "masturbation",
      "submissions_count": "50971"
    },
    {
      "contributed": "f",
      "keyword_id": "47865",
      "keyword_name": "novella",
      "submissions_count": "77"
    },
    {
      "contributed": "f",
      "keyword_id": "2075",
      "keyword_name": "nsfw",
      "submissions_count": "65073"
    },
    {
      "contributed": "f",
      "keyword_id": "265",
      "keyword_name": "orgasm",
      "submissions_count": "37271"
    },
    {
      "contributed": "f",
      "keyword_id": "5570",
      "keyword_name": "plot development",
      "submissions_count": "608"
    },
    {
      "contributed": "f",
      "keyword_id": "1578",
      "keyword_name": "pregnancy",
      "submissions_count": "15894"
    },
    {
      "contributed": "f",
      "keyword_id": "36427",
      "keyword_name": "sexual references",
      "submissions_count": "4"
    },
    {
      "contributed": "f",
      "keyword_id": "1740",
      "keyword_name": "teasing",
      "submissions_count": "20494"
    },
    {
      "contributed": "f",
      "keyword_id": "947",
      "keyword_name": "tribal",
      "submissions_count": "5817"
    },
    {
      "contributed": "f",
      "keyword_id": "560",
      "keyword_name": "uncut",
      "submissions_count": "24526"
    },
    {
      "contributed": "f",
      "keyword_id": "969",
      "keyword_name": "violence",
      "submissions_count": "4731"
    },
    {
      "contributed": "f",
      "keyword_id": "36810",
      "keyword_name": "worldbuilding",
      "submissions_count": "405"
    }
  ],
  "last_file_update_datetime": "2026-04-17 06:55:18.907763+00",
  "last_file_update_datetime_usertime": "17 Apr 2026 08:55 CEST",
  "mimetype": "application/msword",
  "pagecount": "1",
  "pools": [
    {
      "count": "3",
      "description": "A novella of Asantrea with a thematic focus on acceptance, finding one's purpose, and a truly extraordinary quantity of giraffe tits. ",
      "name": "Cultural Relations",
      "pool_id": "106256",
      "submission_left_file_name": "5974957_BrunoHirschkoff_bh_cr_ch1.doc",
      "submission_left_submission_id": "3849806",
      "submission_left_thumb_huge_x": "300",
      "submission_left_thumb_huge_y": "300",
      "submission_left_thumb_large_x": "200",
      "submission_left_thumb_large_y": "200",
      "submission_left_thumb_medium_x": "120",
      "submission_left_thumb_medium_y": "120",
      "submission_left_thumbnail_url_huge": "https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/thumbnails/huge/5974/5974957_BrunoHirschkoff_bh_cr_ch1.jpg",
      "submission_left_thumbnail_url_large": "https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/thumbnails/large/5974/5974957_BrunoHirschkoff_bh_cr_ch1.jpg",
      "submission_left_thumbnail_url_medium": "https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/thumbnails/medium/5974/5974957_BrunoHirschkoff_bh_cr_ch1.jpg"
    }
  ],
  "pools_count": 1,
  "public": "t",
  "rating_id": "2",
  "rating_name": "Adult",
  "ratings": [
    {
      "content_tag_id": "4",
      "description": "Erotic imagery, sexual activity or arousal",
      "name": "Sexual Themes",
      "rating_id": "2"
    }
  ],
  "scraps": "f",
  "submission_id": "3852878",
  "submission_type_id": "12",
  "thumb_huge_x": "300",
  "thumb_huge_y": "300",
  "thumb_large_x": "200",
  "thumb_large_y": "200",
  "thumb_medium_x": "120",
  "thumb_medium_y": "120",
  "thumbnail_url_huge": "https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/thumbnails/huge/5980/5980107_BrunoHirschkoff_bh_cr_ch2_edit.jpg",
  "thumbnail_url_large": "https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/thumbnails/large/5980/5980107_BrunoHirschkoff_bh_cr_ch2_edit.jpg",
  "thumbnail_url_medium": "https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/thumbnails/medium/5980/5980107_BrunoHirschkoff_bh_cr_ch2_edit.jpg",
  "title": "Cultural Relations - Chapter 2",
  "type_name": "Writing - Document",
  "user_icon_file_name": "295416_BrunoHirschkoff_6d19b8e6-fd5b-415e-ab4b-7902590a0d87_1_201_a.jpg",
  "user_icon_url_large": "https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/usericons/large/295/295416_BrunoHirschkoff_6d19b8e6-fd5b-415e-ab4b-7902590a0d87_1_201_a.jpg",
  "user_icon_url_medium": "https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/usericons/medium/295/295416_BrunoHirschkoff_6d19b8e6-fd5b-415e-ab4b-7902590a0d87_1_201_a.jpg",
  "user_icon_url_small": "https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/usericons/small/295/295416_BrunoHirschkoff_6d19b8e6-fd5b-415e-ab4b-7902590a0d87_1_201_a.jpg",
  "user_id": "207272",
  "username": "BrunoHirschkoff",
  "views": "17",
  "writing": "[center]Cultural Relations[/center]\n\n[center]Part 2[/center]\n\n[center]©2025 Bruno Hirschkoff[/center]\n\n[center]For Irving[/center]\n\n[center] [/center]\n\n[center][i]The following is a work of erotic fiction intended solely for adult audiences. It is not intended for commercial publication nor for widespread distribution without the permission of the Author. The Author asserts the exclusive right of ownership of Asantrea, and all characters, settings, concepts, locations and events described herein.[/i][/center]\n\n[center][i] [/i][/center]\n\n[center][i]Approx 7,300 words / 35 minutes reading time[/i][/center]\n\n[center][i] [/i][/center]\n\n[center][u]Chapter 2[/u][/center]\n\n“Sheqi, Nur-Ayya! Lur a’amadeti!”\n\n“Lah! Raq’ahbat.”\n\n“Esti Lamaye-ur?”\n\nAraxes’ head was pounding. The strange voices plucked at the periphery of his consciousness like a savannah beetle picking at the frayed edges of a blanket. The young giraffe’s diaphragm spasmed, and he suddenly coughed violently and surged upright. \n\n“Ay, ay, tik’tur! Tik’tur. Lah, meshti.”\n\nA clay bowl filled with water was thrust into Araxes’ cloudy vision. He tried to lift his arms to take it, but they would not respond, and he felt water moistening his lips. He coughed and worked his throat, then eventually regained enough strength to hold the bowl himself and sip carefully. Why couldn’t he see properly? He forced his eyes wide open and blinked rapidly. \n\nHe wasn’t blind. It was night. \n\nHe’d been unconscious for most of the day, laying naked under the baking suns beside the giraffe’s-head rock. \n\n“Ur-Lamaye, lah.”\n\nAraxes’ consciousness gradually crystallised and he sipped water from the clay bowl again. There were several heavy, solid-seeming figures looming in the darkness around him. None of them carried torches. They continued to converse in a language that was foreign to Araxes, but somehow familiar. He recognised elements of it. Abruptly, Araxes realised why the shadowy figures around him sounded… strange. Their voices were deep, but not as deep as those of Lamaye warriors. These were women. But they were unquestionably warriors. Each of them carried a spear strapped to their backs. \n\nY’Dasz raiders. Forest demons. \n\nAraxes’ blood turned to ice in his veins. His time was done. He muttered a prayer to Amel, to ask the Goddess to ease his passage to the Void.\n\n[center]*[/center]\n\nNur-Ayya held up her hand to call a halt. Kesh and Aror were hanging low in the sky, just kissing the western horizon ahead of their journey beneath the world. The transit of Saliel was only days away, and the Y’Dasz knew that such cosmic events were popular times for the northern tribes to enact a variety of rituals and practices. Nur-Ayya squatted in the dense undergrowth at the edge of the forest along with four of her spear-sisters. All were as silent and as still as standing stones, their distinctive pelts daubed with clay and long strips of cloth wrapped around their bodies, both for camouflage and protection from the suns and the insects that swarmed on the fringes of the jungle. They were on patrol along the northern frontier of the great green vastness of Ammunash’s Garden, although all of the Y’Dasz women knew that what was at stake was not territorial assertion. \n\nFor as long as Nur-Ayya had accompanied her sisters on these raids, the Lamaye tribe of the northern savannah had been leaving their brethren out to die, and her people, the Y’Dasz, had been there to take them in. To offer them life. And so much more. Nur-Ayya knew the lore; the Lamaye thought they were strengthening their ranks, weeding out the weakest and least warlike of their males and offering them as sacrifices to Bezar, the god of warriors and fire, and the forger of souls. Whether the Y’Dasz took them in or not, the Lamaye continued to abandon their people on the fringes of Ammunash’s Garden. On Nur-Ayya’s first patrol, she and her spear-sisters had found three young Lamaye men, all of them beaten and restrained. Only one was still alive, the other two having succumbed to thirst in the heat. The discovery had strengthened Nur-Ayya’s resolve. If the Lamaye did not see any value in those they so brutally abandoned, the Y’Dasz certainly would.\n\nSo when Veyo, the youngest of Nur-Ayya’s company of spear-sisters and a Pathfinder, called out that she had found a live one, Nur-Ayya’s blood quickened. They had already visited the places where the Lamaye usually left offerings to Bezar, and had found four corpses, all of them speared and left to bleed out on the baking stone of Bezar’s Anvil. Criminals, executed for crimes unknown—two antelope and two zebra, one of them scarcely more than a boy.\n\n“Over here, Nur-Ayya! Come quickly!” Veyo called.\n\n“I hear you! Stand clear.”\n\nNur-Ayya moved up alongside Veyo, who straightened and hovered over her shoulder. \n\n“Is he Lamaye?”\n\nAt her hooves, Nur-Ayya saw a crumpled heap of mahogany-patched fur. He was naked, his tunic torn and discarded a short distance away, and did not have any of the ritual scars on his skinny chest of which the Lamaye were so fond. He had not been initiated, then. Abruptly, his ragged breath caught and he surged upward, coughing violently to clear his windpipe. Veyo jumped. \n\n“Ay, ay, calmly. Calmly! I hear you. Hello,” Nur-Ayya said, patting the skinny giraffe’s back and offering him a bowl of water. \n\nHe attempted to take the bowl but could not control his arms, so Nur-Ayya held the back of his neck and gently tipped the bowl to moisten his lips. He slowly took a little water, then took the bowl shakily. He sipped, spat, then took a drink. He was confused and weak. Dried blood matted the side of his head and his pelt was caked in dirt, salt and sweat. Clearly he’d been here all through the heat of the day and was severely dehydrated, although Nur-Ayya took some heart from realising that he was not restrained.\n\n“He is Lamaye, yes,” she said to Veyo.\n\nVeyo leaned closer to inspect their discovery, leaning on the haft of her spear with her ears sharply pricked forward, clearly intrigued by his nudity as much as anything else. “Why do they do this, Nur-Ayya? They throw away their best menfolk for the suns and the vultures.”\n\n“Only the gods and their worldly brethren truly know,” Nur-Ayya said, her voice tinged with sadness. “And it is our curse that we cannot expect an answer. You have done well, Veyo, I am proud of you. Your very first outing as a spear-sister and you have saved a life…and brought a blessing upon your people.”\n\nThe elder giraffe cupped her hand at the nape of Veyo’s neck and brought their heads together, bumping their velvety ossicones gently for a moment, before releasing the younger woman. Nur-Ayya fell into an easy squat beside the skinny Lamaye giraffe and cast her eye over him in the darkness. No sooner had his consciousness fully returned than fear etched into his features. The Lamaye still told their fairy-tales to their calves about the evil Forest Demons. Nur-Ayya suppressed a chuckle and clapped the skinny giraffe on the shoulder. He almost toppled over. \n\n“With us, coming, you,” Nur-Ayya said to him, in halting Lamaye. \n\nThe young giraffe’s eyes almost popped out of his skull. He stammered and crawled backwards on his hands. Nur-Ayya followed him with languid steps. \n\n“Wh-who are you? Where am I?” he managed, in a cracked and dry voice. \n\n“You are taking… blow to head. Ahh, self, am calling Nur-Ayya, daughter Ayya-Yurah, Aethyrsage of Y’Dasz, following of Amel, following of Dytaea. How… you are calling self?”\n\nThe skinny Lamaye’s mouth fell open. He groaned and held the side of his head. \n\n“Being careful not…thinking hard, brains fall out of hole in head!” Nur-Ayya joked. “Tell your name to me.”\n\n“A-Araxes. I am Araxes. You… your people worship Amel?”\n\nNur-Ayya tilted her head in confusion. Did the Lamaye not know of the plight of the Y’Dasz? “Yes, Amel is being… goddess of us. Amel of Rivers, Dytaea of forests. Goddess… not hearing… before-ago-many. Reason coming, you.”\n\nNur-Ayya turned and spoke briefly in Y’Dasz, and the four other giraffe women shared a laugh. Then she stooped and picked up Araxes’ torn tunic. She inspected it for a moment, and then ripped it open further to form it into a long strip of fabric made from several pieces tied end on end, which she offered to Araxes. He stared at it dumbly, and then up at Nur-Ayya, who held out a hand to him. \n\n“Covering ahh… spear, Araxes. Spear sisters… interest, having. [i]Shaka’hakt.”[/i]\n\nAraxes watched her carefully for a moment, and then seemed to resign himself to his fate. He raised his hand shakily to Nur-Ayya’s, and allowed her to pull him to his hooves. Immediately, he stumbled and fell heavily against the Y’Dasz woman, and she caught him in her arms. \n\n“[i]Lah, tik’tur[/i]. You cannot standing. Injured… no water inside. Veyo? [i]Sheqi, lur-khama’akti Araxes?”[/i]\n\nThe young spear-sister handed her weapon to another woman, and stood facing Araxes with undisguised fascination, while Nur-Ayya wrapped the long strip of fabric that used to be his tunic around his body to form a kind of sari that hung from one shoulder and wrapped around his waist to cover him. \n\n“Veyo carrying you, Araxes,” she explained. “Until you… healing, walking. Veyo strong. Araxes drinking much water.”\n\nVeyo looked ravenous. Araxes shrank back as she stepped forward, and reached to touch his shoulder. She was tall, strong and proud, and Nur-Ayya noticed him struggling not to stare at her considerable bust. Then Veyo turned her back to him and fell into a squat, and Nur-Ayya prodded him forward to climb onto Veyo’s back. Veyo captured his legs in her hands, and he loosely wrapped his arms around her neck. Then she rose to her hooves, and conversed briefly with Nur-Ayya, who laughed. \n\n“Veyo saying… Araxes weighing, like ahh… like feather,” Nur-Ayya said, for Araxes’ benefit.\n\nThen, with Araxes on her back, Veyo followed Nur-Ayya and her spear-sisters south, towards the inky blackness of the jungle. They did not speak much until they were well within the darkness of the dense vegetation, and when Nur-Ayya checked, she found Araxes dozing fitfully with his head hanging forward over Veyo’s shoulder and his arms loosely wrapped around her. Nur-Ayya shared a warm smile with Veyo. \n\n“He feels safe already,” she observed to Veyo. “He sleeps.”\n\nVeyo grunted. “He is careful not to touch my tits.”\n\nNur-Ayya laughed. “He will be shocked to learn what you are like.”\n\n[center]*[/center]\n\n“Shuva. Report.”\n\nShuva entered the baking heat of Isaeos’ hut and knelt before the Chieftain’s throne. He was naked in its glittering embrace, with scented oils being massaged into his pelt by two young women, clad in nothing more than tiny silk loincloths. Arashi was one of them, and Shuva swallowed the bile that rose in his throat with difficulty.\n\n“Father, Chieftain—your will has been fulfilled. Those souls promised to Bezar’s glory have been delivered by Lamaye hands, and the Forest Demons claimed their own sacrifice as you commanded. I saw to it myself.”\n\nIsaeos was silent. The Chieftain regarded Shuva with a burning intensity for an uncomfortably long time, and then rose from his throne, shrugging off his attendants. Shuva averted his gaze.\n\n“Is that the truth, Shuva?”\n\nThe Chieftain’s words were framed as a question, but one which dripped with intent. \n\n“Aye, Father—I broke off from the patrol group to lay in wait for the shaman’s child, and ensured that he was left in a place where the Forest Demons would discover him,” Shuva said carefully.\n\n“You speak the truth—the Y’Dasz did indeed find their quarry. But not by your hand. My agents found the condemned soul unbound and fleeing, to a place where water and food had been hidden. It was they who fulfilled my will—not you.”\n\nOaal and Xanaf stepped into the hut’s audience space from behind a heavy curtain of beads, behind which both men had been receiving a similar treatment to the Chieftain. Both emerged with their spears levelled at the Chieftain’s son. Shuva’s blood ran cold, even in the sweltering oven of Isaeos’ hut. For a brief moment, his gaze met that of Arashi, and she returned it with the tiniest motion of her head. Shuva realised with certainty that his double-existence had been discovered, and the game was up. He’d pushed his luck too far.\n\n“Oaal, Xanaf… the coward and the bully,” Shuva snarled. \n\n“A coward and a bully, but at least we are not traitors,” Xanaf snapped back at him.\n\nShuva surged upward, knocked aside his spear and punched him squarely in the jaw. \n\n[i]“Enough!” [/i]roared Isaeos, as Xanaf recovered and raised his spear to Shuva. “You leave me in a predicament, Shuva. You are a traitor to your Chieftain, to your people, and to Bezar. You are also the heir to this throne. I cannot allow you, of all men, to not be answerable to such a serious crime. Especially not where your crime has [i]witnesses.[/i]”\n\n“So you will condemn your son and heir to die for a single act of kindness, on the word of these two spineless cowards? They would tell you anything to gain your favour. I had not realised you were such an insecure ruler to be secretively surrounding yourself with such dregs,” Shuva intoned calmly, rage sparking in his blood and firing his courage—the flame of the Bezari. “My gift to Araxes was to ensure he remains alive for the Y’Dasz to find, not for him to flee! Where could he go?”\n\nIseaos turned and ran a hand over the curve of Arashi’s waist, pulling her bodily against himself. \n\n“To the Sagunu,” Isaeos stated. “He would run west. Come, how simple do you believe us all to be?”\n\nSilently, the Chieftain held out his other hand, into which Oaal deposited the waterskin and empty food pack that Shuva had left for Araxes.\n\n“And… you are right, my son—the word of a bully and a coward is worth nothing to me. Evidence, however… It will take many years to raise another son to replace you, although the means to do so is right before me, and I will take great pleasure in planting my seed in her fertile fields… breaking her mind and body to my will.”\n\nIsaeos gripped Arashi’s jaw roughly in his hand and twisted her head back to drag his purple tongue slimily along her throat. She grimaced and clenched her hands into fists. Shuva’s fists clenched likewise.\n\nThe tension between Chieftain and son was electric. \n\nOblivious, Oaal gave Xanaf a lecherous grin, and appeared to be becoming aroused at the mere prospect of witnessing the Chieftain take Arashi. Xanaf, distracted, slapped at Oaal’s rising erection, and Oaal twisted away from his companion with a bleat, instigating a scuffle between them. Isaeos spun angrily to face the two, and in that split second, he let his guard down. \n\nArashi moved like liquid lightning. \n\nShuva did not, at first, discern the movement from Arashi’s hands. It was as if the Chieftain’s hut abruptly exploded into blood and combat. The Chieftain’s hands wrenched Oaal and Xanaf apart, and in that moment, a tiny obsidian blade concealed within Arashi’s loincloth flashed in the firelight. Isaeos grunted in shock as his leg collapsed beneath him. He fell heavily to one knee, arterial blood gushing from a wound in his groin. It was a mortal wound on its own, but Isaeos remained dangerous. He dodged aside from a second attack aimed at his jugular. He roared in rage and spun on his knee, sending Arashi flying across the hut with a blow from the back of his hand. \n\nShuva skipped backward and squatted in a warrior’s crouch near to the hut’s entrance. \n\nThis was not meant to happen. Not yet. But the idiotic Oaal and his scheming friend Xanaf were forcing his hand. \n\nShuva knew what needed to happen. He needed a weapon.\n\nHis eye moved across the spears held by Oaal and Xanaf. Too far away, and too unwieldy. The tiny obsidian blade was beneath Isaeos while he gripped and squeezed his groin, attempting to stem the bleeding. Too close, and he would be forced onto the floor to retrieve it, a dangerous position. \n\nThen his eye fell to the ceremonial bronze dagger in a scabbard on his father’s thigh. There was an opportunity for him to redeem himself, redeem his tribe, and save Arashi from what would now be certain death. But it meant killing his father. His Chieftain. An Aethyr-touched Bezari. A warrior born, with the blood of the god of war in his veins. And probably Oaal and Xanaf as well. Shuva’s hands clenched into the reed mats on the floor of the hut. It was life or death for everyone in the hut in that moment—the only question remaining was, who would live, and who would die. The passage of time seemed to slow to a crawl for Shuva. \n\nHe, too, carried the blood of Bezar.\n\nHe took a deep breath, tensed his thighs, and erupted out of his crouch.\n\nIn two strides he cleared the firepit in the centre of the hut, and came down heavily with his knee to Isaeos’ chest, forcing the Chieftain to fall backward and crack his head against the edge of the throne. Shuva’s hand closed around the hilt of the dagger, and it rang like silver as he drew it. The blade glinted in the firelight. Blood roared in his ears. Isaeos was momentarily dazed from the blow to his head. Blood spurted from the wound to his groin. \n\nShuva raised the dagger high over his father’s prone body, and plunged it into the Bezari Chieftain’s throat, spearing his heart.\n\nHis blood was like magma in his veins. The power was [i]intoxicating[/i]. He inhaled deeply, feeling Isaeos’ lifeblood pulsing forth over the hilt of the dagger. \n\nShuva felt the point of Xanaf’s spear graze past his ribs in a poorly-aimed thrust, and heard Oaal bawling for him to surrender. \n\nHe wrenched the blood-soaked dagger out of Isaeos’ dying body and rose smoothly to his hooves, turning to face the two. He batted aside another weak thrust from Xanaf’s spear as though it were a mosquito in his ear, sending the weapon clattering to the floor. Both recoiled from his smouldering rage. His hand closed around the haft of Oaal’s spear, and snapped it like a dry twig. Then he flung the liberated blade aside and drove the ceremonial dagger into Xanaf’s shoulder. He fell heavily, clutching the blade protruding over his collarbone. Oaal fell over backwards and pissed himself in fear. Shuva advanced, drenched in sweat and speckled with blood. He picked up Xanaf’s spear, reversed it, and used the butt to knock Oaal unconscious. Then he bound the wrists of both initiates, and gagged them for good measure. Neither of their wounds seemed mortal—as much as Shuva wanted to kill them, to bathe in their blood, his rage was tempered by Arashi’s presence and his devotion to Amel. In his mind Shuva had already formulated the bones of a plan, to pin the murder of the Chieftain on them, if he needed to. And for that, he needed them alive.\n\nShuva then turned his attention to Arashi. She was unconscious, but breathing normally and did not seem seriously injured. The tiny obsidian blade was barely two inches in length but viciously sharp, and Shuva retrieved it from where it had fallen. He placed it on Oaal’s unconscious body, then returned to the Sagunu woman. The weight of the events of less than fifty heartbeats finally began to settle on Shuva’s shoulders. He knew he had a hard road ahead of him to gain the loyalty of the Lamaye, particularly those who were devotees of his father. He gently pulled Arashi into his arms and stroked her cheek.\n\nIsaeos finally died with a rattling groan. The hut was drenched in blood.\n\n“Amel forgive me,” murmured the new Chieftain of the Lamaye to Arashi, as his blood cooled. “With you at my side, and the River Goddess’ blessing, I shall guide our people back to the light.”\n\nBut doubt smouldered in his heart. \n\nBecause he had [i]enjoyed [/i]the feeling of killing. \n\n[center]*[/center]\n\nAraxes squatted dejectedly in the sodden loam of the forest floor. A persistent, soaking rain had deepened the already gloomy depths of the dense jungle, drowning the air in a sullen torpidity that was entirely alien to the young Lamaye. Veyo had carried him throughout the remainder of the night and all of the following day, and finally as the dull light of day began to dim into darkness once again, the company of Y’Dasz spear-sisters stopped to rest. The jungle had been relatively sparse and navigable to begin with, although to Araxes it had looked impenetrable from the start. But the deeper they ventured into its depths, the denser it became, until it was a choking morass of sweltering misery.\n\nHis hooves sank into choking undergrowth and mud the moment they hit the ground, and Araxes found himself wondering how anyone could stand to live in such a place. All around him, Y’Dasz warrior women laughed and conversed in their own tongue, all but ignoring his presence and seemingly unbothered by the tropical deluge. The forest they travelled through never seemed to vary in the slightest. In every direction, it was an impenetrable wall of writhing, sodden green. Even overhead. Araxes had not seen the sky all day. There was no point in attempting an escape into such a place. Araxes was hopelessly lost and had no clue of even what direction they were travelling, although south seemed a reasonable assumption. Even if he did escape and somehow make it back to Lamaye territory, his own people would sacrifice him to Bezar. \n\nHe hesitated to believe Nur-Ayya when she said that the Y’Dasz were devotees of Amel. The river goddess was known to be a benevolent and kind deity; she would not think of having cannibals and killers among her flock, nor any who worshipped Aktis, the Keeper of Souls. But then, nor had Araxes seen any evidence of the tales his people told of the Y’Dasz. \n\n“Will soon enjoying… return to Ammunash’s Garden,” Nyr-Ayya said in slow, broken Lamaye, approaching Araxes with a woven basket of fruits and wild nuts the spear-sisters had foraged.\n\nAraxes gave her a look of confusion, needing to tilt his head back to meet her gaze, so much taller was she than him. “But we are already [i]in [/i]Ammunash’s Garden!”\n\nNur-Ayya laughed. “[i]This [/i]place? Garden? Y’Dasz… not here living, sweating place! Garden… further. Onward-next. Sweating place… barrier. Few pass, knowing how. You next-like-soon Garden, I thinking.”\n\n“What is to happen to me? You do not seem like the demons my people are so afraid of. Am I to be sacrificed? What of the other Lamaye your people have taken?”\n\nNur-Ayya fixed him with a penetrating stare. She had clearly not understood the nuance of his words, nor their implication. “Other Lamaye…before-ing, ago, yes, taking.”\n\nAraxes mistook her misunderstanding as evasiveness, and a cold shiver ran up his spine. [i]It is true, [/i]he thought. [i]They kill and eat us. Perhaps they save us until the whole village can join in like some dark feast, and that is why they have not killed me yet…[/i]\n\nAraxes sat on a fallen tree and ate fitfully when prompted by Nur-Ayya, and when Veyo approached him with open curiosity and a bowl filled with fresh water, he tentatively accepted it and drank his fill. She stared at him throughout, and then she reached to adjust the remains of his tunic on his skinny hip. Araxes recoiled and spilt water over himself. It made little difference, as drenched with rain and sweat as he already was, but Veyo immediately knelt in front of him and began to fuss over him, lifting the front flap of his sari to mop water from his pelt and wringing it out. Higher and higher up his torso she moved, and Araxes realised that she was quite deliberately exposing his manhood to her view, which she openly stared at. Unbidden, his body responded to her closeness. With all of the horrors he had endured lately and for the longest time, Araxes could not remember his last moment of sexual release, and his blood quickened in his veins despite his fear and the uncertainty of the Y’Dasz’ intentions. Veyo noticed his predicament and murmured in husky Y’Dasz something which Araxes thought to mean ‘I see you, hello.’\n\nAbruptly, Nur-Ayya’s hand rested on Veyo’s shoulder, and the younger spear-sister exhaled in frustration and drew away from Araxes. The two Y’Dasz women exchanged a few words, and Veyo retreated. \n\n“Forgiving Veyo. Young, excited she is. Wanting man. Feeling spear on back all day, saying,” Nur-Ayya laughed, sitting beside him. \n\nVeyo had retreated to the company of the three other spear-sisters a short distance away, and was clearly discussing Araxes with some degree of bawdiness, based on her hand movements and the laughter of her sisters. She made eye contact with Araxes and lifted the front of her sari to expose herself to him, allowing her long, purple tongue to fall suggestively from her lips. Araxes looked away with a start, feeling his ears burning. What truly took Araxes’ breath away, though, was that Veyo then began to openly pleasure herself, maintaining a casual conversation with the other Y’Dasz women while she did. It was as though she were doing nothing unexpected—repairing a foraging basket or sharpening a spear, perhaps, not openly rubbing her genitals in full view of her companions. He tried to force himself not to look directly upon her, but she remained in the periphery of his vision. Araxes had never known a woman to be so ribald, either in her interest in him or her actions, and he had never before witnessed a woman’s sexual pleasure. His arousal surged upright and throbbed persistently, unable to be entirely concealed by the ragged scraps of fabric that were his only covering, right up until Veyo hunched over herself, bucking and trembling through an orgasm. Then, as casually as if nothing had occurred, she returned to where Araxes and Nur-Ayya sat. A brief conversation ensued, during which Veyo’s gaze never left Araxes. She had closed her sari only just far enough to barely conceal her nudity, and Araxes stared openly.\n\n“Veyo… saying apologising,” Nur-Ayya translated for Araxes. “Women desiring ahh… different among Y’Dasz. Y’Dasz women having… no ahh… no shaming for desire of body.”\n\nVeyo raised Nur-Ayya’s hand to her lips and kissed her knuckles, and then retreated once again. \n\n“Araxes needing ahh… no fearing of Y’Dasz,” Nur-Ayya said to him, placing her hand on his knee. “Y’Dasz caring, loving, protecting Araxes.”\n\nAraxes’ ears pricked forward and he raised his muzzle to meet Nur-Ayya’s gaze. In the darkness of the jungle, she looked fearsome and powerful still, but her expression was gentle and neither she nor any of the spear-sisters had made any attempt to hurt him. Slowly, Araxes began to have hope that he was indeed in no danger. \n\n“Why did you stop Veyo?” he asked Nur-Ayya after a long silence. \n\nNur-Ayya laughed heartily and clapped him on the shoulder. “Araxes enjoying attentions? Good! Ahh, next-soon, returning Garden. Soon-after-then, Araxes… meeting Ayya-Yurah, mother Nur-Ayya. Accepting Araxes to Y’Dasz. After-next, no more stopping.”\n\nAraxes’ heart quickened, although for the first time it was not from fear. Nur-Ayya was sitting close to him, and was casting sidelong looks at him as if she wanted nothing more than to touch him, but was restraining herself with some effort. At length, Araxes shuffled a little closer to her, until their hips touched. Nur-Ayya inhaled sharply and he felt her tense up, then slowly relax. Her strong arm snaked around his waist, and Araxes forced himself to look anywhere but at the rain-drenched sari which did very little to conceal Nur-Ayya’s breasts. He could clearly see the peaks of her nipples beneath the fabric, and felt his body reacting once again. \n\n“Should not… touching, yet,” Nur-Ayya murmured in his ear after a long moment of contact. “Tempting, smelling of male. Making difficult. Making wet.”\n\nShe exhaled shakily over his ear and gave his upper thigh a firm, lengthy squeeze beneath his sari, then pulled away from him with obvious reluctance. Nur-Ayya rose to her hooves, and glanced around at her spear-sisters. Then, to Araxes shock, she pulled open the binding of her sari and allowed it to fall open, exposing her body almost full-frontal to his view. His mouth fell open in shock and arousal. She was stunning. Muscular, curvaceous, soft, all at once. Her heavy breasts were full and round, her pelt matted to her skin with sweat and the remnants of the sun-protection clay. And below, Araxes’ eye sought the curve of her womanhood. Her sari concealed it still, but she dipped a finger behind it, and drew forth a web of stretchy slickness. \n\n“Wet, Araxes making,” she stated.\n\nThen, to his disappointment, she tied her sari closed once more.\n\nNur-Ayya remained with Araxes for the remainder of that night, and slept alongside him—which seemed to be her way of protecting him from Veyo. Araxes slept more peacefully than he had in a long time. He felt safe, with the very people he was warned for his entire life would kill and eat him.\n\n[center]*[/center]\n\nAyya-Yurah breathed deeply of the heady haze of incense that filled her hut, some thirty fetlocks above the forest floor among the lowest boughs of the vast, intertwined trees. Nets hung around the inside of the hut were filled with bioluminescent fungi, casting a purplish-blue glow across the space. She spoke the Aethyric incantation that would bring her an image of her daughter through the clay bowl of water held before her by two male giraffes, one of whom was very likely the father of the calf which distended the Aethyrsage’s womb—although which of them had sired that calf was neither known, nor given much importance. Ayya-Yurah added two drops of an inky resin to the water, and the surface rippled and swirled. Ayya-Yurah’s perception of the real world fell into the background of her consciousness, and instead she was seeing what her daughter saw, as though through her eyes. \n\nThey were nearing the Garden. Nur-Ayya led her group of spear-sisters, and they were laughing and speaking freely. They seemed happy, although Ayya-Yurah could not hear their words—rather, she could feel her daughter’s emotions. Happiness, anticipation, and… arousal? Lust? Yes, those were definitely present. Beside Nur-Ayya, Veyo was clearing a path through the dense jungle. Her sari clung to her pelt, transparent with sweat and the perpetual humidity of the northern rainforest. The other spear-sisters were, presumably, behind Nur-Ayya. But Ayya-Yurah could feel another presence too—a male presence. The Aethyrsage’s blood quickened, and at that moment Nur-Ayya turned her head. \n\nThen Ayya-Yurah saw him. He was young and slender, and short for a giraffe. A field-poultice of moss and sap was bandaged to the side of his head with a strip of flaxtree bark, and he was dirty and dishevelled. But he was walking unaided, and Ayya-Yurah read from her daughter’s emotions that he was in better shape than the spear-sisters had found him in. As Nur-Ayya regarded him, apprehension flashed across his features. Evidently Nur-Ayya was speaking to him and his ears pricked forward to hear her. Then she turned away from him, and Ayya-Yurah saw precisely where they were.\n\nThe Aethyrsage dearly wanted to see the newcomer’s first reaction to what would shortly follow, but her vision began to cloud and distort. The scrying incantation only lasted a short time, and it was with some regret that Ayya-Yurah returned to her primary consciousness. She drank deeply from a clay cup of water that was handed to her by one of the male giraffes in her hut, and then rose slowly to her hooves, her hands guarding the gravid swelling of her pregnant belly.\n\n“They are coming. They will be with us soon, and they bring a blessing with them,” she said.\n\n[center]*[/center]\n\n[i]“A-lah, lah, bata’aik-ah.”[/i]\n\nAraxes was beginning to understand more of the Y’Dasz tongue, thanks to its similarities to the Lamaye language; enough to know that the spear-sister who was speaking to him intended him to stop fussing with the poultice she had applied to his head wound. It itched abominably, but Araxes knew that meant it was healing. Still, it was difficult to leave it alone and when he thought he was not being observed he would habitually press the heel of his palm against the resinous lump of pungent moss, relieving the burning itch even for only a moment. \n\nYt’tai was her name, Araxes learned from Nur-Ayya. She was learning how to dress wounds and treat illnesses as part of her warrior training. The concept was foreign to Araxes. In Lamaye lands, a warrior was a warrior alone—strength, martial skill and aggression were their only traits. Or, more commonly, demonstrated and unquestioning loyalty to the Chieftain. Yet even among these five Y’Dasz, all of whom were clearly warrior women, there was more diversity of skill than Araxes had seen among the entire fighting force of the Lamaye. Nur-Ayya was an Aethyrsage-in-waiting, a shamaness and a practitioner of magic. Veyo was a pathfinder; a sort of navigator, highly skilled in tracking and reading her environment. Yt’tai was a healer. The other spear-sisters, whose names were Nenwoh and Yattah, were a huntress and a forager, skilled in preparing food, weaving and weapon maintenance. All of them had a variety of skillsets outside of their martial roles. Araxes was beginning to feel just as useless among them as he had been among the Lamaye. What role could he possibly have?\n\nYt’tai fussed over his bandage, while Araxes sat glumly on a fallen log. Veyo had taken Nenwoh and Yattah ahead to clear a path through a particularly challenging section of terrain, leaving Araxes alone with Nur-Ayya and Yt’tai. She muttered and murmured to him while she prepared a new bandage, and slowly Araxes began to pick up more words. \n\n“Itches…burns, much,” he managed in Y’Dasz. \n\nYt’tai’s eyes opened wide and she stepped back from him as if he had spontaneously burst into flames. \n\nThe sound of Nur-Ayya’s laughter rippled across the forest, and she turned back to face him. \n\n“Clever, clever little Lamaye!” she exclaimed in her own tongue. “It is good to know that it is not only your [i]spear [/i]that is large and of great value to us, but your brains as well.”\n\nAraxes felt his muzzle burning at her implication, and self-consciously clasped his hands over his lap. Yt’tai gave him a look which Araxes took to be one of mirth, and leaned in to him once again—closer, this time—to clean his wound and apply fresh moss to it. Yt’tai was very much more finely built than Nur-Ayya and Veyo; she was strong and fit, but while Nur-Ayya was a powerful, muscular woman, Yt’tai was toned and lithe.\n\n“Few words,” he said to Yt’tai. “Sorrow… if wronging.”\n\nShe gave a low, throaty chuckle and cupped the nape of his neck, bringing their foreheads gently together to touch her ossicones to his own. Araxes stared down her sari into her modest cleavage, suddenly very aware that she was standing astride his right leg. “You have been among us for two days, yet you attempt to speak our language. Have no fear, and apologise for nothing.”\n\n“Yt’tai speaks the truth, Araxes. If we laugh at you, it is because you have said something which translates humorously, not because we are berating you,” said Nur-Ayya, sitting alongside him on the fallen log and resting her hand on his thigh.\n\nAraxes grit his teeth. He could smell both Y’Dasz women, and Nur-Ayya’s hip pressed against his. Her hand squeezed his thigh warmly. The spear-sisters’ feminine scents oozed from them, and he subtly flared his nostrils to fill his lungs with it—even after days of not bathing, forging through the sweltering jungle, their scent was intoxicating. He felt himself swelling beneath the tattered remnants of his tunic, and pushed down against it with his palms. Nur-Ayya felt his thigh tense and her gaze fell. Gently, she reached and plucked his hand away, lifting it by the wrist. Yt’tai tied off the new bandage gently and exhaled softly over Araxes’ muzzle. She did not step back, but instead lowered her hand until it hovered a quarter of a fetlock over his rising erection, which easily carried the ragged scrap of fabric upward with it. But she resisted touching him, instead only plucking at the cloth, lifting it aside to expose his manhood to their sight. After several days traversing the humid jungle, it stank to Araxes, its mahogany skin glistening with sweat and grime, but both Yt’tai and Nur-Ayya inhaled deeply.\n\n“It is gratifying to know that our closeness arouses you,” Nur-Ayya murmured into his ear, her breath warm against his cheek, then switched to Lamaye, a language Yt’tai did not speak. “Penis… large, pretty. Hard like rock. Handsome like Araxes.”\n\nAraxes took a shaky breath and boldly tilted his head, allowing his cheek to rest against hers. She leaned in, sliding their necks alongside one another, and then reached beneath Yt’tai’s hand with her own, giving Araxes’ swollen manhood a single, brief squeeze. Then she pulled back and stood. Araxes stared after her, his gaze lingering on her wide hips and muscular thighs. Yt’tai took the opportunity while unobserved to squeeze his manhood as well, rolling his foreskin back to expose his dark, faintly purplish glans, and he snapped his attention back to the healer. She flattened her ears back and gave him a cheeky grin, her palm briefly surrounding his glans.\n\n“Thicker than many,” she observed, then lifted her hand to her muzzle and inhaled deeply. \n\nThe sound of a horn being blown echoed through the dense jungle, and Nur-Ayya turned towards it. \n\n“Veyo is through! Come, we proceed.”\n\nAraxes’ erection took many minutes to subside.\n\n[center]*[/center]\n\nThe pathfinding by Veyo, Nenwoh and Yattah was, as it turned out, highly necessary. The last half-mile of barrier jungle was incredibly dense—almost impassable, Araxes thought. It felt as though they pushed and plucked their way through a tunnel beneath the ground rather than over it. It was almost completely dark. They were climbing sharply, though, towards the crest of some unseen ridge buried under the festering jungle. \n\nYt’tai walked ahead of Araxes, and Nur-Ayya behind him. The Lamaye giraffe was breathing hard and dripping with sweat by the time the undergrowth finally began to thin enough that he could see further than a few paces in any direction. Ahead was a wall of mossy, glistening rock, into which a narrow tunnel had been carved. It looked impossibly ancient, and it made Araxes realise that the moss-choked ground on which he had been walking was not naturally occurring; it was constructed. Stones carved and laid to build a stair that led to this very point. Around the entrance to the tunnel, Veyo, Nenwoh and Yattah squatted in the loam, eating and drinking. They stood as Nur-Ayya, Araxes and Yt’tai approached, and Veyo motioned to them to refill their waterskins from a clear stream that trickled down the rock face.\n\n“Come, we enter,” Nur-Ayya prompted.\n\n“In there?” Araxes said, his voice breaking. The tunnel was pitch dark, narrow and foreboding. \n\n“Have no fear, Araxes. I shall protect you,” Nur-Ayya said. “Think of entering this tunnel as though you are entering me… I look frightening and imposing on the outside, but within, I am filled with wonders you have never felt…”\n\nShe pressed up against his back, and Araxes could feel the subtle curve of her pubic mound against his buttock, nestled between thighs that felt as if they were carved from granite. That gave Araxes something pleasant to think about, to distract him from the blackness of the tunnel that laid ahead. Veyo flashed him a glance and very deliberately flicked aside a fold of her sari, offering the Lamaye a tantalising glimpse of her womanhood. Then she plunged into the darkness, clicking her tongue repeatedly to mark her location. \n\nThe tunnel was just barely wide enough for the strongly-built Y’Dasz to squeeze through single-file, their heads held low and spears carried horizontally. Each of them made a point of tapping the sharpened tip of their spears against the tunnel wall as they moved to mark the presence of the blades, presumably to prevent accidental injury. Araxes felt his ossicones graze the ceiling of the tunnel once or twice along its hundred-pace length, but otherwise he did not need to stoop. Nur-Ayya, meanwhile, complained of needing to bend almost double to fit. The tunnel curved around on itself wildly several times, and then Araxes realised he could see where he was going, if only vaguely—it was growing lighter. And the oppressive heat of the jungle seemed to be reducing; indeed he could feel a cool, fresh breeze on his face from ahead. Veyo’s tongue-clicks ceased, and one by one the party of giraffes emerged from the tunnel—revealing an extensive cavern, carved out of the bedrock over countless millennia by water which bubbled up from deep below in a dozen glittering, crystal-clear pools, which overflowed, converged, flowed through the cavern and roared out into…somewhere else. \n\nThe stony floor of the cavern was smooth under Araxes’ hooves, and he finally located the origin point of the dim light that filled the underground space. Far above, a complex fissure had opened. A tangle of roots hung through it, and a sharply angled shaft of sunlight sliced across the cavern like a blade through a coconut. Under its glow, a strip of mosses, lichens and even some small ferns and understorey plants eked out a living from their precious few moments of daily sunlight. In the darker corners of the cavern, glow-worms and softly bioluminescent slimes and fungi emitted an eerie, otherworldly glow. It was a truly awe-inspiring place. It felt sacred, to Araxes, and his feeling was proven correct when each of the Y’Dasz in turn laid their weapons on the ground and knelt beside a tiny rockpool off to the side from one of the main pools.\n\n“The source of all life,” Nur-Ayya murmured to Araxes reverently, casting her hand around the cavern. “Amel causes the waters to come forth from the depths of the world, cleansed by the stone that is the Bones of Ammunash. The water is filled with Aethyr when it enters this place, and carries the energy that sustains the whole Garden into the multitude of rivers beyond. You must not drink the water within the cavern, Araxes. Do not be tempted.”\n\nShe reiterated the latter warning in Lamaye, and Araxes felt shivers run up his spine at Nur-Ayya’s words even if he did not understand them all. He moved forward and knelt alongside the Y’Dasz while Nur-Ayya spoke an incantation and sprinkled each of them in turn with sacred water from the tiny rockpool. It was a deeply moving experience for Araxes, and he gazed into the shimmering pool. Around its edge, tiny silvery-green crystals clung to the granite around the waterline. \n\nThen Nur-Ayya led them through the cavern, stepping carefully from stone to stone in a path that was clearly very well-worn. Here and there, evidence of regular visitation was visible. A clay cup. A small tower of pebbles, stacked one atop the other so delicately that the faintest knock would send them tumbling. An unlit torch, and a waxcloth-wrapped flint. But the thing that caught Araxes’ attention the most was the art that adorned the cavern walls. It was everywhere. What had from a distance seemed like the texture of the stone was, in fact, thousands of generations of layered handprints, outlined in sprays of ochre, clay, resin and strange dyes that Araxes could not identify. There were more of them than he could even estimate and ranged in size from that of a newborn calf, to hands twice the size of his own.\n\n“Ancestors,” Yt’tai said from behind Araxes, noticing his interest. “Sacred place.”\n\n“Come,” Nur-Ayya prompted, “it is unwise for the uninitiated to linger in this place. The shadows grow restless.”\n\nAraxes gulped, and his mind convinced him he could feel spidery fingers reaching out of the darkness for him. He needed no further encouragement.\n\nAs awed as he was by the cavern of the ancestors, nothing could have prepared him for the immensity of Ammunash’s Garden. \n\n[center]*[/center]\n\n "
}

{
  "description": "Chapter 2 (of 8) of Cultural Relations - Commissioned by IrvingWrites!\n\nEvents conspire to force Shuva's hand.\nAraxes is discovered by the dreaded Y'Dasz Forest Demons.\n\nBut the cautionary tales of the Lamaye, that the Y'Dasz are bloodthirsty cannibals who kill and eat weak Lamaye men, seem... not to be true. "
}

{
  "writing": "[center]Cultural Relations[/center]\n\n[center]Part 2[/center]\n\n[center]©2025 Bruno Hirschkoff[/center]\n\n[center]For Irving[/center]\n\n[center] [/center]\n\n[center][i]The following is a work of erotic fiction intended solely for adult audiences. It is not intended for commercial publication nor for widespread distribution without the permission of the Author. The Author asserts the exclusive right of ownership of Asantrea, and all characters, settings, concepts, locations and events described herein.[/i][/center]\n\n[center][i] [/i][/center]\n\n[center][i]Approx 7,300 words / 35 minutes reading time[/i][/center]\n\n[center][i] [/i][/center]\n\n[center][u]Chapter 2[/u][/center]\n\n“Sheqi, Nur-Ayya! Lur a’amadeti!”\n\n“Lah! Raq’ahbat.”\n\n“Esti Lamaye-ur?”\n\nAraxes’ head was pounding. The strange voices plucked at the periphery of his consciousness like a savannah beetle picking at the frayed edges of a blanket. The young giraffe’s diaphragm spasmed, and he suddenly coughed violently and surged upright. \n\n“Ay, ay, tik’tur! Tik’tur. Lah, meshti.”\n\nA clay bowl filled with water was thrust into Araxes’ cloudy vision. He tried to lift his arms to take it, but they would not respond, and he felt water moistening his lips. He coughed and worked his throat, then eventually regained enough strength to hold the bowl himself and sip carefully. Why couldn’t he see properly? He forced his eyes wide open and blinked rapidly. \n\nHe wasn’t blind. It was night. \n\nHe’d been unconscious for most of the day, laying naked under the baking suns beside the giraffe’s-head rock. \n\n“Ur-Lamaye, lah.”\n\nAraxes’ consciousness gradually crystallised and he sipped water from the clay bowl again. There were several heavy, solid-seeming figures looming in the darkness around him. None of them carried torches. They continued to converse in a language that was foreign to Araxes, but somehow familiar. He recognised elements of it. Abruptly, Araxes realised why the shadowy figures around him sounded… strange. Their voices were deep, but not as deep as those of Lamaye warriors. These were women. But they were unquestionably warriors. Each of them carried a spear strapped to their backs. \n\nY’Dasz raiders. Forest demons. \n\nAraxes’ blood turned to ice in his veins. His time was done. He muttered a prayer to Amel, to ask the Goddess to ease his passage to the Void.\n\n[center]*[/center]\n\nNur-Ayya held up her hand to call a halt. Kesh and Aror were hanging low in the sky, just kissing the western horizon ahead of their journey beneath the world. The transit of Saliel was only days away, and the Y’Dasz knew that such cosmic events were popular times for the northern tribes to enact a variety of rituals and practices. Nur-Ayya squatted in the dense undergrowth at the edge of the forest along with four of her spear-sisters. All were as silent and as still as standing stones, their distinctive pelts daubed with clay and long strips of cloth wrapped around their bodies, both for camouflage and protection from the suns and the insects that swarmed on the fringes of the jungle. They were on patrol along the northern frontier of the great green vastness of Ammunash’s Garden, although all of the Y’Dasz women knew that what was at stake was not territorial assertion. \n\nFor as long as Nur-Ayya had accompanied her sisters on these raids, the Lamaye tribe of the northern savannah had been leaving their brethren out to die, and her people, the Y’Dasz, had been there to take them in. To offer them life. And so much more. Nur-Ayya knew the lore; the Lamaye thought they were strengthening their ranks, weeding out the weakest and least warlike of their males and offering them as sacrifices to Bezar, the god of warriors and fire, and the forger of souls. Whether the Y’Dasz took them in or not, the Lamaye continued to abandon their people on the fringes of Ammunash’s Garden. On Nur-Ayya’s first patrol, she and her spear-sisters had found three young Lamaye men, all of them beaten and restrained. Only one was still alive, the other two having succumbed to thirst in the heat. The discovery had strengthened Nur-Ayya’s resolve. If the Lamaye did not see any value in those they so brutally abandoned, the Y’Dasz certainly would.\n\nSo when Veyo, the youngest of Nur-Ayya’s company of spear-sisters and a Pathfinder, called out that she had found a live one, Nur-Ayya’s blood quickened. They had already visited the places where the Lamaye usually left offerings to Bezar, and had found four corpses, all of them speared and left to bleed out on the baking stone of Bezar’s Anvil. Criminals, executed for crimes unknown—two antelope and two zebra, one of them scarcely more than a boy.\n\n“Over here, Nur-Ayya! Come quickly!” Veyo called.\n\n“I hear you! Stand clear.”\n\nNur-Ayya moved up alongside Veyo, who straightened and hovered over her shoulder. \n\n“Is he Lamaye?”\n\nAt her hooves, Nur-Ayya saw a crumpled heap of mahogany-patched fur. He was naked, his tunic torn and discarded a short distance away, and did not have any of the ritual scars on his skinny chest of which the Lamaye were so fond. He had not been initiated, then. Abruptly, his ragged breath caught and he surged upward, coughing violently to clear his windpipe. Veyo jumped. \n\n“Ay, ay, calmly. Calmly! I hear you. Hello,” Nur-Ayya said, patting the skinny giraffe’s back and offering him a bowl of water. \n\nHe attempted to take the bowl but could not control his arms, so Nur-Ayya held the back of his neck and gently tipped the bowl to moisten his lips. He slowly took a little water, then took the bowl shakily. He sipped, spat, then took a drink. He was confused and weak. Dried blood matted the side of his head and his pelt was caked in dirt, salt and sweat. Clearly he’d been here all through the heat of the day and was severely dehydrated, although Nur-Ayya took some heart from realising that he was not restrained.\n\n“He is Lamaye, yes,” she said to Veyo.\n\nVeyo leaned closer to inspect their discovery, leaning on the haft of her spear with her ears sharply pricked forward, clearly intrigued by his nudity as much as anything else. “Why do they do this, Nur-Ayya? They throw away their best menfolk for the suns and the vultures.”\n\n“Only the gods and their worldly brethren truly know,” Nur-Ayya said, her voice tinged with sadness. “And it is our curse that we cannot expect an answer. You have done well, Veyo, I am proud of you. Your very first outing as a spear-sister and you have saved a life…and brought a blessing upon your people.”\n\nThe elder giraffe cupped her hand at the nape of Veyo’s neck and brought their heads together, bumping their velvety ossicones gently for a moment, before releasing the younger woman. Nur-Ayya fell into an easy squat beside the skinny Lamaye giraffe and cast her eye over him in the darkness. No sooner had his consciousness fully returned than fear etched into his features. The Lamaye still told their fairy-tales to their calves about the evil Forest Demons. Nur-Ayya suppressed a chuckle and clapped the skinny giraffe on the shoulder. He almost toppled over. \n\n“With us, coming, you,” Nur-Ayya said to him, in halting Lamaye. \n\nThe young giraffe’s eyes almost popped out of his skull. He stammered and crawled backwards on his hands. Nur-Ayya followed him with languid steps. \n\n“Wh-who are you? Where am I?” he managed, in a cracked and dry voice. \n\n“You are taking… blow to head. Ahh, self, am calling Nur-Ayya, daughter Ayya-Yurah, Aethyrsage of Y’Dasz, following of Amel, following of Dytaea. How… you are calling self?”\n\nThe skinny Lamaye’s mouth fell open. He groaned and held the side of his head. \n\n“Being careful not…thinking hard, brains fall out of hole in head!” Nur-Ayya joked. “Tell your name to me.”\n\n“A-Araxes. I am Araxes. You… your people worship Amel?”\n\nNur-Ayya tilted her head in confusion. Did the Lamaye not know of the plight of the Y’Dasz? “Yes, Amel is being… goddess of us. Amel of Rivers, Dytaea of forests. Goddess… not hearing… before-ago-many. Reason coming, you.”\n\nNur-Ayya turned and spoke briefly in Y’Dasz, and the four other giraffe women shared a laugh. Then she stooped and picked up Araxes’ torn tunic. She inspected it for a moment, and then ripped it open further to form it into a long strip of fabric made from several pieces tied end on end, which she offered to Araxes. He stared at it dumbly, and then up at Nur-Ayya, who held out a hand to him. \n\n“Covering ahh… spear, Araxes. Spear sisters… interest, having. [i]Shaka’hakt.”[/i]\n\nAraxes watched her carefully for a moment, and then seemed to resign himself to his fate. He raised his hand shakily to Nur-Ayya’s, and allowed her to pull him to his hooves. Immediately, he stumbled and fell heavily against the Y’Dasz woman, and she caught him in her arms. \n\n“[i]Lah, tik’tur[/i]. You cannot standing. Injured… no water inside. Veyo? [i]Sheqi, lur-khama’akti Araxes?”[/i]\n\nThe young spear-sister handed her weapon to another woman, and stood facing Araxes with undisguised fascination, while Nur-Ayya wrapped the long strip of fabric that used to be his tunic around his body to form a kind of sari that hung from one shoulder and wrapped around his waist to cover him. \n\n“Veyo carrying you, Araxes,” she explained. “Until you… healing, walking. Veyo strong. Araxes drinking much water.”\n\nVeyo looked ravenous. Araxes shrank back as she stepped forward, and reached to touch his shoulder. She was tall, strong and proud, and Nur-Ayya noticed him struggling not to stare at her considerable bust. Then Veyo turned her back to him and fell into a squat, and Nur-Ayya prodded him forward to climb onto Veyo’s back. Veyo captured his legs in her hands, and he loosely wrapped his arms around her neck. Then she rose to her hooves, and conversed briefly with Nur-Ayya, who laughed. \n\n“Veyo saying… Araxes weighing, like ahh… like feather,” Nur-Ayya said, for Araxes’ benefit.\n\nThen, with Araxes on her back, Veyo followed Nur-Ayya and her spear-sisters south, towards the inky blackness of the jungle. They did not speak much until they were well within the darkness of the dense vegetation, and when Nur-Ayya checked, she found Araxes dozing fitfully with his head hanging forward over Veyo’s shoulder and his arms loosely wrapped around her. Nur-Ayya shared a warm smile with Veyo. \n\n“He feels safe already,” she observed to Veyo. “He sleeps.”\n\nVeyo grunted. “He is careful not to touch my tits.”\n\nNur-Ayya laughed. “He will be shocked to learn what you are like.”\n\n[center]*[/center]\n\n“Shuva. Report.”\n\nShuva entered the baking heat of Isaeos’ hut and knelt before the Chieftain’s throne. He was naked in its glittering embrace, with scented oils being massaged into his pelt by two young women, clad in nothing more than tiny silk loincloths. Arashi was one of them, and Shuva swallowed the bile that rose in his throat with difficulty.\n\n“Father, Chieftain—your will has been fulfilled. Those souls promised to Bezar’s glory have been delivered by Lamaye hands, and the Forest Demons claimed their own sacrifice as you commanded. I saw to it myself.”\n\nIsaeos was silent. The Chieftain regarded Shuva with a burning intensity for an uncomfortably long time, and then rose from his throne, shrugging off his attendants. Shuva averted his gaze.\n\n“Is that the truth, Shuva?”\n\nThe Chieftain’s words were framed as a question, but one which dripped with intent. \n\n“Aye, Father—I broke off from the patrol group to lay in wait for the shaman’s child, and ensured that he was left in a place where the Forest Demons would discover him,” Shuva said carefully.\n\n“You speak the truth—the Y’Dasz did indeed find their quarry. But not by your hand. My agents found the condemned soul unbound and fleeing, to a place where water and food had been hidden. It was they who fulfilled my will—not you.”\n\nOaal and Xanaf stepped into the hut’s audience space from behind a heavy curtain of beads, behind which both men had been receiving a similar treatment to the Chieftain. Both emerged with their spears levelled at the Chieftain’s son. Shuva’s blood ran cold, even in the sweltering oven of Isaeos’ hut. For a brief moment, his gaze met that of Arashi, and she returned it with the tiniest motion of her head. Shuva realised with certainty that his double-existence had been discovered, and the game was up. He’d pushed his luck too far.\n\n“Oaal, Xanaf… the coward and the bully,” Shuva snarled. \n\n“A coward and a bully, but at least we are not traitors,” Xanaf snapped back at him.\n\nShuva surged upward, knocked aside his spear and punched him squarely in the jaw. \n\n[i]“Enough!” [/i]roared Isaeos, as Xanaf recovered and raised his spear to Shuva. “You leave me in a predicament, Shuva. You are a traitor to your Chieftain, to your people, and to Bezar. You are also the heir to this throne. I cannot allow you, of all men, to not be answerable to such a serious crime. Especially not where your crime has [i]witnesses.[/i]”\n\n“So you will condemn your son and heir to die for a single act of kindness, on the word of these two spineless cowards? They would tell you anything to gain your favour. I had not realised you were such an insecure ruler to be secretively surrounding yourself with such dregs,” Shuva intoned calmly, rage sparking in his blood and firing his courage—the flame of the Bezari. “My gift to Araxes was to ensure he remains alive for the Y’Dasz to find, not for him to flee! Where could he go?”\n\nIseaos turned and ran a hand over the curve of Arashi’s waist, pulling her bodily against himself. \n\n“To the Sagunu,” Isaeos stated. “He would run west. Come, how simple do you believe us all to be?”\n\nSilently, the Chieftain held out his other hand, into which Oaal deposited the waterskin and empty food pack that Shuva had left for Araxes.\n\n“And… you are right, my son—the word of a bully and a coward is worth nothing to me. Evidence, however… It will take many years to raise another son to replace you, although the means to do so is right before me, and I will take great pleasure in planting my seed in her fertile fields… breaking her mind and body to my will.”\n\nIsaeos gripped Arashi’s jaw roughly in his hand and twisted her head back to drag his purple tongue slimily along her throat. She grimaced and clenched her hands into fists. Shuva’s fists clenched likewise.\n\nThe tension between Chieftain and son was electric. \n\nOblivious, Oaal gave Xanaf a lecherous grin, and appeared to be becoming aroused at the mere prospect of witnessing the Chieftain take Arashi. Xanaf, distracted, slapped at Oaal’s rising erection, and Oaal twisted away from his companion with a bleat, instigating a scuffle between them. Isaeos spun angrily to face the two, and in that split second, he let his guard down. \n\nArashi moved like liquid lightning. \n\nShuva did not, at first, discern the movement from Arashi’s hands. It was as if the Chieftain’s hut abruptly exploded into blood and combat. The Chieftain’s hands wrenched Oaal and Xanaf apart, and in that moment, a tiny obsidian blade concealed within Arashi’s loincloth flashed in the firelight. Isaeos grunted in shock as his leg collapsed beneath him. He fell heavily to one knee, arterial blood gushing from a wound in his groin. It was a mortal wound on its own, but Isaeos remained dangerous. He dodged aside from a second attack aimed at his jugular. He roared in rage and spun on his knee, sending Arashi flying across the hut with a blow from the back of his hand. \n\nShuva skipped backward and squatted in a warrior’s crouch near to the hut’s entrance. \n\nThis was not meant to happen. Not yet. But the idiotic Oaal and his scheming friend Xanaf were forcing his hand. \n\nShuva knew what needed to happen. He needed a weapon.\n\nHis eye moved across the spears held by Oaal and Xanaf. Too far away, and too unwieldy. The tiny obsidian blade was beneath Isaeos while he gripped and squeezed his groin, attempting to stem the bleeding. Too close, and he would be forced onto the floor to retrieve it, a dangerous position. \n\nThen his eye fell to the ceremonial bronze dagger in a scabbard on his father’s thigh. There was an opportunity for him to redeem himself, redeem his tribe, and save Arashi from what would now be certain death. But it meant killing his father. His Chieftain. An Aethyr-touched Bezari. A warrior born, with the blood of the god of war in his veins. And probably Oaal and Xanaf as well. Shuva’s hands clenched into the reed mats on the floor of the hut. It was life or death for everyone in the hut in that moment—the only question remaining was, who would live, and who would die. The passage of time seemed to slow to a crawl for Shuva. \n\nHe, too, carried the blood of Bezar.\n\nHe took a deep breath, tensed his thighs, and erupted out of his crouch.\n\nIn two strides he cleared the firepit in the centre of the hut, and came down heavily with his knee to Isaeos’ chest, forcing the Chieftain to fall backward and crack his head against the edge of the throne. Shuva’s hand closed around the hilt of the dagger, and it rang like silver as he drew it. The blade glinted in the firelight. Blood roared in his ears. Isaeos was momentarily dazed from the blow to his head. Blood spurted from the wound to his groin. \n\nShuva raised the dagger high over his father’s prone body, and plunged it into the Bezari Chieftain’s throat, spearing his heart.\n\nHis blood was like magma in his veins. The power was [i]intoxicating[/i]. He inhaled deeply, feeling Isaeos’ lifeblood pulsing forth over the hilt of the dagger. \n\nShuva felt the point of Xanaf’s spear graze past his ribs in a poorly-aimed thrust, and heard Oaal bawling for him to surrender. \n\nHe wrenched the blood-soaked dagger out of Isaeos’ dying body and rose smoothly to his hooves, turning to face the two. He batted aside another weak thrust from Xanaf’s spear as though it were a mosquito in his ear, sending the weapon clattering to the floor. Both recoiled from his smouldering rage. His hand closed around the haft of Oaal’s spear, and snapped it like a dry twig. Then he flung the liberated blade aside and drove the ceremonial dagger into Xanaf’s shoulder. He fell heavily, clutching the blade protruding over his collarbone. Oaal fell over backwards and pissed himself in fear. Shuva advanced, drenched in sweat and speckled with blood. He picked up Xanaf’s spear, reversed it, and used the butt to knock Oaal unconscious. Then he bound the wrists of both initiates, and gagged them for good measure. Neither of their wounds seemed mortal—as much as Shuva wanted to kill them, to bathe in their blood, his rage was tempered by Arashi’s presence and his devotion to Amel. In his mind Shuva had already formulated the bones of a plan, to pin the murder of the Chieftain on them, if he needed to. And for that, he needed them alive.\n\nShuva then turned his attention to Arashi. She was unconscious, but breathing normally and did not seem seriously injured. The tiny obsidian blade was barely two inches in length but viciously sharp, and Shuva retrieved it from where it had fallen. He placed it on Oaal’s unconscious body, then returned to the Sagunu woman. The weight of the events of less than fifty heartbeats finally began to settle on Shuva’s shoulders. He knew he had a hard road ahead of him to gain the loyalty of the Lamaye, particularly those who were devotees of his father. He gently pulled Arashi into his arms and stroked her cheek.\n\nIsaeos finally died with a rattling groan. The hut was drenched in blood.\n\n“Amel forgive me,” murmured the new Chieftain of the Lamaye to Arashi, as his blood cooled. “With you at my side, and the River Goddess’ blessing, I shall guide our people back to the light.”\n\nBut doubt smouldered in his heart. \n\nBecause he had [i]enjoyed [/i]the feeling of killing. \n\n[center]*[/center]\n\nAraxes squatted dejectedly in the sodden loam of the forest floor. A persistent, soaking rain had deepened the already gloomy depths of the dense jungle, drowning the air in a sullen torpidity that was entirely alien to the young Lamaye. Veyo had carried him throughout the remainder of the night and all of the following day, and finally as the dull light of day began to dim into darkness once again, the company of Y’Dasz spear-sisters stopped to rest. The jungle had been relatively sparse and navigable to begin with, although to Araxes it had looked impenetrable from the start. But the deeper they ventured into its depths, the denser it became, until it was a choking morass of sweltering misery.\n\nHis hooves sank into choking undergrowth and mud the moment they hit the ground, and Araxes found himself wondering how anyone could stand to live in such a place. All around him, Y’Dasz warrior women laughed and conversed in their own tongue, all but ignoring his presence and seemingly unbothered by the tropical deluge. The forest they travelled through never seemed to vary in the slightest. In every direction, it was an impenetrable wall of writhing, sodden green. Even overhead. Araxes had not seen the sky all day. There was no point in attempting an escape into such a place. Araxes was hopelessly lost and had no clue of even what direction they were travelling, although south seemed a reasonable assumption. Even if he did escape and somehow make it back to Lamaye territory, his own people would sacrifice him to Bezar. \n\nHe hesitated to believe Nur-Ayya when she said that the Y’Dasz were devotees of Amel. The river goddess was known to be a benevolent and kind deity; she would not think of having cannibals and killers among her flock, nor any who worshipped Aktis, the Keeper of Souls. But then, nor had Araxes seen any evidence of the tales his people told of the Y’Dasz. \n\n“Will soon enjoying… return to Ammunash’s Garden,” Nyr-Ayya said in slow, broken Lamaye, approaching Araxes with a woven basket of fruits and wild nuts the spear-sisters had foraged.\n\nAraxes gave her a look of confusion, needing to tilt his head back to meet her gaze, so much taller was she than him. “But we are already [i]in [/i]Ammunash’s Garden!”\n\nNur-Ayya laughed. “[i]This [/i]place? Garden? Y’Dasz… not here living, sweating place! Garden… further. Onward-next. Sweating place… barrier. Few pass, knowing how. You next-like-soon Garden, I thinking.”\n\n“What is to happen to me? You do not seem like the demons my people are so afraid of. Am I to be sacrificed? What of the other Lamaye your people have taken?”\n\nNur-Ayya fixed him with a penetrating stare. She had clearly not understood the nuance of his words, nor their implication. “Other Lamaye…before-ing, ago, yes, taking.”\n\nAraxes mistook her misunderstanding as evasiveness, and a cold shiver ran up his spine. [i]It is true, [/i]he thought. [i]They kill and eat us. Perhaps they save us until the whole village can join in like some dark feast, and that is why they have not killed me yet…[/i]\n\nAraxes sat on a fallen tree and ate fitfully when prompted by Nur-Ayya, and when Veyo approached him with open curiosity and a bowl filled with fresh water, he tentatively accepted it and drank his fill. She stared at him throughout, and then she reached to adjust the remains of his tunic on his skinny hip. Araxes recoiled and spilt water over himself. It made little difference, as drenched with rain and sweat as he already was, but Veyo immediately knelt in front of him and began to fuss over him, lifting the front flap of his sari to mop water from his pelt and wringing it out. Higher and higher up his torso she moved, and Araxes realised that she was quite deliberately exposing his manhood to her view, which she openly stared at. Unbidden, his body responded to her closeness. With all of the horrors he had endured lately and for the longest time, Araxes could not remember his last moment of sexual release, and his blood quickened in his veins despite his fear and the uncertainty of the Y’Dasz’ intentions. Veyo noticed his predicament and murmured in husky Y’Dasz something which Araxes thought to mean ‘I see you, hello.’\n\nAbruptly, Nur-Ayya’s hand rested on Veyo’s shoulder, and the younger spear-sister exhaled in frustration and drew away from Araxes. The two Y’Dasz women exchanged a few words, and Veyo retreated. \n\n“Forgiving Veyo. Young, excited she is. Wanting man. Feeling spear on back all day, saying,” Nur-Ayya laughed, sitting beside him. \n\nVeyo had retreated to the company of the three other spear-sisters a short distance away, and was clearly discussing Araxes with some degree of bawdiness, based on her hand movements and the laughter of her sisters. She made eye contact with Araxes and lifted the front of her sari to expose herself to him, allowing her long, purple tongue to fall suggestively from her lips. Araxes looked away with a start, feeling his ears burning. What truly took Araxes’ breath away, though, was that Veyo then began to openly pleasure herself, maintaining a casual conversation with the other Y’Dasz women while she did. It was as though she were doing nothing unexpected—repairing a foraging basket or sharpening a spear, perhaps, not openly rubbing her genitals in full view of her companions. He tried to force himself not to look directly upon her, but she remained in the periphery of his vision. Araxes had never known a woman to be so ribald, either in her interest in him or her actions, and he had never before witnessed a woman’s sexual pleasure. His arousal surged upright and throbbed persistently, unable to be entirely concealed by the ragged scraps of fabric that were his only covering, right up until Veyo hunched over herself, bucking and trembling through an orgasm. Then, as casually as if nothing had occurred, she returned to where Araxes and Nur-Ayya sat. A brief conversation ensued, during which Veyo’s gaze never left Araxes. She had closed her sari only just far enough to barely conceal her nudity, and Araxes stared openly.\n\n“Veyo… saying apologising,” Nur-Ayya translated for Araxes. “Women desiring ahh… different among Y’Dasz. Y’Dasz women having… no ahh… no shaming for desire of body.”\n\nVeyo raised Nur-Ayya’s hand to her lips and kissed her knuckles, and then retreated once again. \n\n“Araxes needing ahh… no fearing of Y’Dasz,” Nur-Ayya said to him, placing her hand on his knee. “Y’Dasz caring, loving, protecting Araxes.”\n\nAraxes’ ears pricked forward and he raised his muzzle to meet Nur-Ayya’s gaze. In the darkness of the jungle, she looked fearsome and powerful still, but her expression was gentle and neither she nor any of the spear-sisters had made any attempt to hurt him. Slowly, Araxes began to have hope that he was indeed in no danger. \n\n“Why did you stop Veyo?” he asked Nur-Ayya after a long silence. \n\nNur-Ayya laughed heartily and clapped him on the shoulder. “Araxes enjoying attentions? Good! Ahh, next-soon, returning Garden. Soon-after-then, Araxes… meeting Ayya-Yurah, mother Nur-Ayya. Accepting Araxes to Y’Dasz. After-next, no more stopping.”\n\nAraxes’ heart quickened, although for the first time it was not from fear. Nur-Ayya was sitting close to him, and was casting sidelong looks at him as if she wanted nothing more than to touch him, but was restraining herself with some effort. At length, Araxes shuffled a little closer to her, until their hips touched. Nur-Ayya inhaled sharply and he felt her tense up, then slowly relax. Her strong arm snaked around his waist, and Araxes forced himself to look anywhere but at the rain-drenched sari which did very little to conceal Nur-Ayya’s breasts. He could clearly see the peaks of her nipples beneath the fabric, and felt his body reacting once again. \n\n“Should not… touching, yet,” Nur-Ayya murmured in his ear after a long moment of contact. “Tempting, smelling of male. Making difficult. Making wet.”\n\nShe exhaled shakily over his ear and gave his upper thigh a firm, lengthy squeeze beneath his sari, then pulled away from him with obvious reluctance. Nur-Ayya rose to her hooves, and glanced around at her spear-sisters. Then, to Araxes shock, she pulled open the binding of her sari and allowed it to fall open, exposing her body almost full-frontal to his view. His mouth fell open in shock and arousal. She was stunning. Muscular, curvaceous, soft, all at once. Her heavy breasts were full and round, her pelt matted to her skin with sweat and the remnants of the sun-protection clay. And below, Araxes’ eye sought the curve of her womanhood. Her sari concealed it still, but she dipped a finger behind it, and drew forth a web of stretchy slickness. \n\n“Wet, Araxes making,” she stated.\n\nThen, to his disappointment, she tied her sari closed once more.\n\nNur-Ayya remained with Araxes for the remainder of that night, and slept alongside him—which seemed to be her way of protecting him from Veyo. Araxes slept more peacefully than he had in a long time. He felt safe, with the very people he was warned for his entire life would kill and eat him.\n\n[center]*[/center]\n\nAyya-Yurah breathed deeply of the heady haze of incense that filled her hut, some thirty fetlocks above the forest floor among the lowest boughs of the vast, intertwined trees. Nets hung around the inside of the hut were filled with bioluminescent fungi, casting a purplish-blue glow across the space. She spoke the Aethyric incantation that would bring her an image of her daughter through the clay bowl of water held before her by two male giraffes, one of whom was very likely the father of the calf which distended the Aethyrsage’s womb—although which of them had sired that calf was neither known, nor given much importance. Ayya-Yurah added two drops of an inky resin to the water, and the surface rippled and swirled. Ayya-Yurah’s perception of the real world fell into the background of her consciousness, and instead she was seeing what her daughter saw, as though through her eyes. \n\nThey were nearing the Garden. Nur-Ayya led her group of spear-sisters, and they were laughing and speaking freely. They seemed happy, although Ayya-Yurah could not hear their words—rather, she could feel her daughter’s emotions. Happiness, anticipation, and… arousal? Lust? Yes, those were definitely present. Beside Nur-Ayya, Veyo was clearing a path through the dense jungle. Her sari clung to her pelt, transparent with sweat and the perpetual humidity of the northern rainforest. The other spear-sisters were, presumably, behind Nur-Ayya. But Ayya-Yurah could feel another presence too—a male presence. The Aethyrsage’s blood quickened, and at that moment Nur-Ayya turned her head. \n\nThen Ayya-Yurah saw him. He was young and slender, and short for a giraffe. A field-poultice of moss and sap was bandaged to the side of his head with a strip of flaxtree bark, and he was dirty and dishevelled. But he was walking unaided, and Ayya-Yurah read from her daughter’s emotions that he was in better shape than the spear-sisters had found him in. As Nur-Ayya regarded him, apprehension flashed across his features. Evidently Nur-Ayya was speaking to him and his ears pricked forward to hear her. Then she turned away from him, and Ayya-Yurah saw precisely where they were.\n\nThe Aethyrsage dearly wanted to see the newcomer’s first reaction to what would shortly follow, but her vision began to cloud and distort. The scrying incantation only lasted a short time, and it was with some regret that Ayya-Yurah returned to her primary consciousness. She drank deeply from a clay cup of water that was handed to her by one of the male giraffes in her hut, and then rose slowly to her hooves, her hands guarding the gravid swelling of her pregnant belly.\n\n“They are coming. They will be with us soon, and they bring a blessing with them,” she said.\n\n[center]*[/center]\n\n[i]“A-lah, lah, bata’aik-ah.”[/i]\n\nAraxes was beginning to understand more of the Y’Dasz tongue, thanks to its similarities to the Lamaye language; enough to know that the spear-sister who was speaking to him intended him to stop fussing with the poultice she had applied to his head wound. It itched abominably, but Araxes knew that meant it was healing. Still, it was difficult to leave it alone and when he thought he was not being observed he would habitually press the heel of his palm against the resinous lump of pungent moss, relieving the burning itch even for only a moment. \n\nYt’tai was her name, Araxes learned from Nur-Ayya. She was learning how to dress wounds and treat illnesses as part of her warrior training. The concept was foreign to Araxes. In Lamaye lands, a warrior was a warrior alone—strength, martial skill and aggression were their only traits. Or, more commonly, demonstrated and unquestioning loyalty to the Chieftain. Yet even among these five Y’Dasz, all of whom were clearly warrior women, there was more diversity of skill than Araxes had seen among the entire fighting force of the Lamaye. Nur-Ayya was an Aethyrsage-in-waiting, a shamaness and a practitioner of magic. Veyo was a pathfinder; a sort of navigator, highly skilled in tracking and reading her environment. Yt’tai was a healer. The other spear-sisters, whose names were Nenwoh and Yattah, were a huntress and a forager, skilled in preparing food, weaving and weapon maintenance. All of them had a variety of skillsets outside of their martial roles. Araxes was beginning to feel just as useless among them as he had been among the Lamaye. What role could he possibly have?\n\nYt’tai fussed over his bandage, while Araxes sat glumly on a fallen log. Veyo had taken Nenwoh and Yattah ahead to clear a path through a particularly challenging section of terrain, leaving Araxes alone with Nur-Ayya and Yt’tai. She muttered and murmured to him while she prepared a new bandage, and slowly Araxes began to pick up more words. \n\n“Itches…burns, much,” he managed in Y’Dasz. \n\nYt’tai’s eyes opened wide and she stepped back from him as if he had spontaneously burst into flames. \n\nThe sound of Nur-Ayya’s laughter rippled across the forest, and she turned back to face him. \n\n“Clever, clever little Lamaye!” she exclaimed in her own tongue. “It is good to know that it is not only your [i]spear [/i]that is large and of great value to us, but your brains as well.”\n\nAraxes felt his muzzle burning at her implication, and self-consciously clasped his hands over his lap. Yt’tai gave him a look which Araxes took to be one of mirth, and leaned in to him once again—closer, this time—to clean his wound and apply fresh moss to it. Yt’tai was very much more finely built than Nur-Ayya and Veyo; she was strong and fit, but while Nur-Ayya was a powerful, muscular woman, Yt’tai was toned and lithe.\n\n“Few words,” he said to Yt’tai. “Sorrow… if wronging.”\n\nShe gave a low, throaty chuckle and cupped the nape of his neck, bringing their foreheads gently together to touch her ossicones to his own. Araxes stared down her sari into her modest cleavage, suddenly very aware that she was standing astride his right leg. “You have been among us for two days, yet you attempt to speak our language. Have no fear, and apologise for nothing.”\n\n“Yt’tai speaks the truth, Araxes. If we laugh at you, it is because you have said something which translates humorously, not because we are berating you,” said Nur-Ayya, sitting alongside him on the fallen log and resting her hand on his thigh.\n\nAraxes grit his teeth. He could smell both Y’Dasz women, and Nur-Ayya’s hip pressed against his. Her hand squeezed his thigh warmly. The spear-sisters’ feminine scents oozed from them, and he subtly flared his nostrils to fill his lungs with it—even after days of not bathing, forging through the sweltering jungle, their scent was intoxicating. He felt himself swelling beneath the tattered remnants of his tunic, and pushed down against it with his palms. Nur-Ayya felt his thigh tense and her gaze fell. Gently, she reached and plucked his hand away, lifting it by the wrist. Yt’tai tied off the new bandage gently and exhaled softly over Araxes’ muzzle. She did not step back, but instead lowered her hand until it hovered a quarter of a fetlock over his rising erection, which easily carried the ragged scrap of fabric upward with it. But she resisted touching him, instead only plucking at the cloth, lifting it aside to expose his manhood to their sight. After several days traversing the humid jungle, it stank to Araxes, its mahogany skin glistening with sweat and grime, but both Yt’tai and Nur-Ayya inhaled deeply.\n\n“It is gratifying to know that our closeness arouses you,” Nur-Ayya murmured into his ear, her breath warm against his cheek, then switched to Lamaye, a language Yt’tai did not speak. “Penis… large, pretty. Hard like rock. Handsome like Araxes.”\n\nAraxes took a shaky breath and boldly tilted his head, allowing his cheek to rest against hers. She leaned in, sliding their necks alongside one another, and then reached beneath Yt’tai’s hand with her own, giving Araxes’ swollen manhood a single, brief squeeze. Then she pulled back and stood. Araxes stared after her, his gaze lingering on her wide hips and muscular thighs. Yt’tai took the opportunity while unobserved to squeeze his manhood as well, rolling his foreskin back to expose his dark, faintly purplish glans, and he snapped his attention back to the healer. She flattened her ears back and gave him a cheeky grin, her palm briefly surrounding his glans.\n\n“Thicker than many,” she observed, then lifted her hand to her muzzle and inhaled deeply. \n\nThe sound of a horn being blown echoed through the dense jungle, and Nur-Ayya turned towards it. \n\n“Veyo is through! Come, we proceed.”\n\nAraxes’ erection took many minutes to subside.\n\n[center]*[/center]\n\nThe pathfinding by Veyo, Nenwoh and Yattah was, as it turned out, highly necessary. The last half-mile of barrier jungle was incredibly dense—almost impassable, Araxes thought. It felt as though they pushed and plucked their way through a tunnel beneath the ground rather than over it. It was almost completely dark. They were climbing sharply, though, towards the crest of some unseen ridge buried under the festering jungle. \n\nYt’tai walked ahead of Araxes, and Nur-Ayya behind him. The Lamaye giraffe was breathing hard and dripping with sweat by the time the undergrowth finally began to thin enough that he could see further than a few paces in any direction. Ahead was a wall of mossy, glistening rock, into which a narrow tunnel had been carved. It looked impossibly ancient, and it made Araxes realise that the moss-choked ground on which he had been walking was not naturally occurring; it was constructed. Stones carved and laid to build a stair that led to this very point. Around the entrance to the tunnel, Veyo, Nenwoh and Yattah squatted in the loam, eating and drinking. They stood as Nur-Ayya, Araxes and Yt’tai approached, and Veyo motioned to them to refill their waterskins from a clear stream that trickled down the rock face.\n\n“Come, we enter,” Nur-Ayya prompted.\n\n“In there?” Araxes said, his voice breaking. The tunnel was pitch dark, narrow and foreboding. \n\n“Have no fear, Araxes. I shall protect you,” Nur-Ayya said. “Think of entering this tunnel as though you are entering me… I look frightening and imposing on the outside, but within, I am filled with wonders you have never felt…”\n\nShe pressed up against his back, and Araxes could feel the subtle curve of her pubic mound against his buttock, nestled between thighs that felt as if they were carved from granite. That gave Araxes something pleasant to think about, to distract him from the blackness of the tunnel that laid ahead. Veyo flashed him a glance and very deliberately flicked aside a fold of her sari, offering the Lamaye a tantalising glimpse of her womanhood. Then she plunged into the darkness, clicking her tongue repeatedly to mark her location. \n\nThe tunnel was just barely wide enough for the strongly-built Y’Dasz to squeeze through single-file, their heads held low and spears carried horizontally. Each of them made a point of tapping the sharpened tip of their spears against the tunnel wall as they moved to mark the presence of the blades, presumably to prevent accidental injury. Araxes felt his ossicones graze the ceiling of the tunnel once or twice along its hundred-pace length, but otherwise he did not need to stoop. Nur-Ayya, meanwhile, complained of needing to bend almost double to fit. The tunnel curved around on itself wildly several times, and then Araxes realised he could see where he was going, if only vaguely—it was growing lighter. And the oppressive heat of the jungle seemed to be reducing; indeed he could feel a cool, fresh breeze on his face from ahead. Veyo’s tongue-clicks ceased, and one by one the party of giraffes emerged from the tunnel—revealing an extensive cavern, carved out of the bedrock over countless millennia by water which bubbled up from deep below in a dozen glittering, crystal-clear pools, which overflowed, converged, flowed through the cavern and roared out into…somewhere else. \n\nThe stony floor of the cavern was smooth under Araxes’ hooves, and he finally located the origin point of the dim light that filled the underground space. Far above, a complex fissure had opened. A tangle of roots hung through it, and a sharply angled shaft of sunlight sliced across the cavern like a blade through a coconut. Under its glow, a strip of mosses, lichens and even some small ferns and understorey plants eked out a living from their precious few moments of daily sunlight. In the darker corners of the cavern, glow-worms and softly bioluminescent slimes and fungi emitted an eerie, otherworldly glow. It was a truly awe-inspiring place. It felt sacred, to Araxes, and his feeling was proven correct when each of the Y’Dasz in turn laid their weapons on the ground and knelt beside a tiny rockpool off to the side from one of the main pools.\n\n“The source of all life,” Nur-Ayya murmured to Araxes reverently, casting her hand around the cavern. “Amel causes the waters to come forth from the depths of the world, cleansed by the stone that is the Bones of Ammunash. The water is filled with Aethyr when it enters this place, and carries the energy that sustains the whole Garden into the multitude of rivers beyond. You must not drink the water within the cavern, Araxes. Do not be tempted.”\n\nShe reiterated the latter warning in Lamaye, and Araxes felt shivers run up his spine at Nur-Ayya’s words even if he did not understand them all. He moved forward and knelt alongside the Y’Dasz while Nur-Ayya spoke an incantation and sprinkled each of them in turn with sacred water from the tiny rockpool. It was a deeply moving experience for Araxes, and he gazed into the shimmering pool. Around its edge, tiny silvery-green crystals clung to the granite around the waterline. \n\nThen Nur-Ayya led them through the cavern, stepping carefully from stone to stone in a path that was clearly very well-worn. Here and there, evidence of regular visitation was visible. A clay cup. A small tower of pebbles, stacked one atop the other so delicately that the faintest knock would send them tumbling. An unlit torch, and a waxcloth-wrapped flint. But the thing that caught Araxes’ attention the most was the art that adorned the cavern walls. It was everywhere. What had from a distance seemed like the texture of the stone was, in fact, thousands of generations of layered handprints, outlined in sprays of ochre, clay, resin and strange dyes that Araxes could not identify. There were more of them than he could even estimate and ranged in size from that of a newborn calf, to hands twice the size of his own.\n\n“Ancestors,” Yt’tai said from behind Araxes, noticing his interest. “Sacred place.”\n\n“Come,” Nur-Ayya prompted, “it is unwise for the uninitiated to linger in this place. The shadows grow restless.”\n\nAraxes gulped, and his mind convinced him he could feel spidery fingers reaching out of the darkness for him. He needed no further encouragement.\n\nAs awed as he was by the cavern of the ancestors, nothing could have prepared him for the immensity of Ammunash’s Garden. \n\n[center]*[/center]\n\n "
}

[
  {
    "count": "3",
    "description": "A novella of Asantrea with a thematic focus on acceptance, finding one's purpose, and a truly extraordinary quantity of giraffe tits. ",
    "name": "Cultural Relations",
    "pool_id": "106256",
    "submission_left_file_name": "5974957_BrunoHirschkoff_bh_cr_ch1.doc",
    "submission_left_submission_id": "3849806",
    "submission_left_thumb_huge_x": "300",
    "submission_left_thumb_huge_y": "300",
    "submission_left_thumb_large_x": "200",
    "submission_left_thumb_large_y": "200",
    "submission_left_thumb_medium_x": "120",
    "submission_left_thumb_medium_y": "120",
    "submission_left_thumbnail_url_huge": "https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/thumbnails/huge/5974/5974957_BrunoHirschkoff_bh_cr_ch1.jpg",
    "submission_left_thumbnail_url_large": "https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/thumbnails/large/5974/5974957_BrunoHirschkoff_bh_cr_ch1.jpg",
    "submission_left_thumbnail_url_medium": "https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/thumbnails/medium/5974/5974957_BrunoHirschkoff_bh_cr_ch1.jpg"
  }
]

{
  "count": "3",
  "description": "A novella of Asantrea with a thematic focus on acceptance, finding one's purpose, and a truly extraordinary quantity of giraffe tits. ",
  "name": "Cultural Relations",
  "pool_id": "106256",
  "submission_left_file_name": "5974957_BrunoHirschkoff_bh_cr_ch1.doc",
  "submission_left_submission_id": "3849806",
  "submission_left_thumb_huge_x": "300",
  "submission_left_thumb_huge_y": "300",
  "submission_left_thumb_large_x": "200",
  "submission_left_thumb_large_y": "200",
  "submission_left_thumb_medium_x": "120",
  "submission_left_thumb_medium_y": "120",
  "submission_left_thumbnail_url_huge": "https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/thumbnails/huge/5974/5974957_BrunoHirschkoff_bh_cr_ch1.jpg",
  "submission_left_thumbnail_url_large": "https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/thumbnails/large/5974/5974957_BrunoHirschkoff_bh_cr_ch1.jpg",
  "submission_left_thumbnail_url_medium": "https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/thumbnails/medium/5974/5974957_BrunoHirschkoff_bh_cr_ch1.jpg"
}