[tom8517]

I reigned in my horse, pausing to let the frost tinged air fill my lungs. The snows would come soon, and the clans would be encamped for the winter. This last chance at solitude, to hunt the steppes alone was welcome.

I am Drojin, nephew to the high king, Radok, the dread lord who had united all the clans of the plains. Under his banner none had stood against us, for a thousand leagues in any direction men trembled at our name. Letting my mind drift back, our last campaign had been to the east, a land rich in silk and spices, but divided and weak. We had raided at will, the last caravan yielding a prize to me sweeter than any spice. She had been the mistress of the high merchant who had led the caravan, a blubbering weakling unworthy of such a woman.

We had taken them at dawn, falling on them as they rose, my warriors slaying the few guards by bowshot as they we rode past their wagons, the shrill war cry of my clansmen increasing their terror. The fat merchant, unworthy of a warrior’s death, was pushed into a circle, taunted relentlessly, slapped with the flat of their blades, he ran to and fro, begging and offering gold for his life, the game continued until his bloated heart exploded and he collapsed in the dust.

Laughing with the rest, I dismounted and entered the wagon of the merchant. I saw her at once, huddled in the corner, not yet dressed. Her skin the palest yellow, almond eyes and long jet black hair with the luster of the silk her land was famous for. We had been in the saddle for a week and I fell on her like the wolf takes a fawn.

She knew of us, had heard the tales, and as such was petrified with fright. I would have liked a struggle, but she lay still as my hands roamed over her, my mouth greedily pulling her nipple in with my tongue, the coarse stubble of my face reddening the smooth skin of her breast. I tossed my sword belt to the floor of the wagon, quickly yanking my britches down, I took her hard and fast.

Crying now, in a tongue unknown to me, but sweet nonetheless as she pleaded and begged. I raped her cruelly, not lasting near as long as I would have liked. Pulsing into her, watching the horror in her eyes as my seed filled her.

I wrapped her in one of the rich carpets on the floor, binding her hands with a leather thong; I flung her over my shoulder and left the wagon. My men had finished looting and they raised a cheer as they saw the prize I had claimed. The wagons were in flames, the smell of smoke mingled with the sweet perfume of my captive. It was a good day.

My mind is drawn back to the present as my falcon flaps his wings on my shoulder. I remove his hood and fling him skyward; he spreads his wings and screams a fierce cry of joy as he climbs higher. My hounds trot forward, huge brutes, more wolf than dog, a matched pair bred and trained for me since they were pups. Again I think of the woman, tethered to the pole of my tent, her tears dampening my sleeping furs. I feel myself stir at the thought of her, how I will spend the winter bending her to my will.

My falcon screams again, and then dives; I see a small explosion of feathers and fur on the floor of the steppe as he takes a fat rabbit. I smile; one hunger at least shall be sated tonight. I make camp shortly, the sun rapidly fading, roasting the rabbit; I slice off both hind legs, tossing one to each dog, feeding the bird delicate bits by hand. All our bellies full I roll into my blanket and sleep without dreams.

As I prepare to ride back toward the encampment the next morning, I hear the unmistakable creak of wagon wheels. I motion quickly to the hounds; they drop to the ground and lay still.

I slither through the brown grass to the top of a small rise, five wagons, moving south, a rich prize, a dozen soldiers ride along, men from the far west, tall and pale skinned. My first thought is to alert the clan, my falcon can carry a message with the speed of the wind. My uncle would be pleased, one more rich haul before the snow comes.

Then I see her, she leaves the back of the wagon and takes a seat next to the driver. Never have I seen the like of her, tall, almost as tall as man, her skin a flawless white, perfect and unblemished, with long flowing light brown hair. All thought of the clan vanishes, this is a prize for me and no other. I slip back down the rise toward my mount, making plans as I go.


more later, Tom.