Warden
“Ihaven’t been able to shift like this since I was a yearling.” I flick my tail around. “I forgot how much I enjoyed it.”
My Hazel stares at my tail then me before taking a considered bite of her apple. I very much like seeing her eat it, even if it is causing absolute havoc in my trousers, especially now I have a tail.
Having a tail when I wasn’t fully in Brag form was always interesting. And generally not something I could control. Like now.
“It looks good on you,” she says, swallowing her food. “I like it.”
I give my tail a good swish.
“Feels good,” I say, extracting another apple from my bags and biting into it. “I think we will have no trouble today.”
The path from Meg of Maldon’s castle close to the coast winds through the farmland, each field edged with stone built walls and filled with the green of growing crops.
While there is magic here, it belongs to the land itself.
We pass through several small villages and are greeted by the inhabitants, no doubt wanting a Brag and his mate to stay a while. We are offered food and lodgings.
It seems a shame to refuse. After all, merely being in the presence of my beautiful lady makes me want to mate her.
However, I know she is keen to see her sister, and the last thing we want is the damned Bluecap coming looking for us, so, unfortunately we press on into the rising foothills up to the moor tops.
“I think that might be too deep for me to cross,” Hazel says as we reach a ford in a swiftly flowing stream.
She goes down to the water and dips the toe of her boot in it, squinting across to the other side.
“Let me,” I say, giving my tail one final flick as I change to my Brag form and enter the ford. The water has a scent I dislike, one which reminds me of something.
I splash back to Hazel. “My lady.” I offer her my arm, and she takes it so I can swing her up onto my back.
With her safely seated, I re-enter the water.
“My ancestors used to offer strangers passage over the waterways,” I explain as I wade up to my hocks in the chilly stream. “And if they didn’t offer thanks, they’d take them back and dump them in the middle,” I add.
“You know you have my undying thanks.” Hazel chuckles. “I don’t want an early bath.”
My todger reacts instantly, although when the thing hits the cold water, it has a change of mind. It would appear this is the only way the unruly appendage can be managed without placing it into my sweet mate’s cunt.
I place Hazel on her feet once we reach the other side and give myself a good shake before returning to my human form.
“What is it?” Hazel asks as I lift my head to scent the air.
“I’m not sure,” I reply. “Something I have scented before.” I inhale. “I am not sure what.”
Behind us, there is a loud crack of thunder.
“Looks like we’ll be getting wet whatever happens,” Hazel says, gazing back the way we came.
“The moorlands will most likely protect us from the worst of the weather.” I shift back to my Brag form and offer her my hand again. “If you would, my lady, I can take us further and faster.”
“Providing I feed you apples?” Hazel smiles.
“Providing you let me mount you, little mate,” I growl. “Once we reach the Bluecap’s lair.”
I get a rush of her sweet, sweet perfume, and it makes me want to mate her on the spot. Hazel takes my proffered hand, and she is up on my back in a moment. I enjoy the feeling as she gets settled.
“Are you ready, my lady?” I ask.
“I’m ready to see if you can outrun this storm,” she says. “All while avoiding spectral armies who would do us harm.”
“That is the Yeavering in a nutshell, little mare,” I respond as she locks her hands around my waist. “One day I will take you to the Yeavering stone, and you will see for yourself exactly what this place is.”
My hooves explode in a cloud of dust as my shoes get a grip, and we forge ever onwards, up onto the moors as behind the storm follows.
Perhaps the scent was the rain and the lightning?
I cannot be sure. All I know is it fades from my nostrils as we get higher and closer to the moor tops.
Here the heather is pushing its way onto the track, obscuring it in places, and my hooves thump on the springy ground, forcing me forward, harder and faster.
“Over there.” I point across the moorland.
The sun is still high, and while we are being pursued by the storm, it’s clear enough to see the marching army, skeletal, spectral against the sky.
Hazel grips me tighter, and I pick up my pace. The armies march on the same route, not diverting for any reason. But woe betide if you end up in their path as many an unwary resident of the Yeavering has found out to their cost.
I am not, however, the unwary. I’ve had my run-in with the spectral armies of the moors, and I have no fear of them. I doubt my mate does either, not when she’s with me.
So we gallop on, over the moor tops, the sun attempting its own battle with the storm coming in behind. My hooves might be swift, but the storm is inexorable. It will always keep coming. The heather around us blooms as the rain catches up. No matter how fast I go, we are not going to outrun it.
I hear Hazel gasp as the first few large drops hit us, and very soon, the water is bouncing all around us, soaking me and her to the skin.
“We can seek shelter once we’re off the moors,” I cry over the noise of the storm. “But I doubt we’ll make the Bluecap’s lair today.”