Page 136 of Fawn

Each and every one.

My doe loves them well.

She also wants to test them.

My hooves drum against the forest floor, and I put on a little spurt. Maybe events past should be lingering in my mind. But they do not. I am playful as I dance and skip over the dips and undulations, weaving this way and that, letting them follow where I lead.

I pause to sip some water at the river, my tail wagging the whole time.

I know what it means, what my doe is doing. But I am reckless. When I hear them nearing, I jump over the river, land on the far bank, and take off again.

A low growl comes from behind me. Wolf is not happy with my recklessness. But I don’t care. I race up the little incline toward the copse, and then I race down the other side.

Nox

She is a fucking test. The brat knows what she is doing: pushing us until we snap.

Pushing us into a rut.

We knew this would come soon, even without the crazy turn of events with Eiden’s bastard family turning up. I’m glad they are dead, glad that Eiden was the one to kill them, although I’d have happily brought them back to life so that I could kill them for myself.

But that is done now.

Our little Fawn is wise beyond her years, brave, and fucking saucy. I swear her wagging tail has a direct line to my dick. Here I am, following where she leads, drooling for a taste of her slick little cunt.

Damn, the rest of my life is over. Fawn and Eiden have claimed it all.

I have suffered enough false rallies with Eiden over the years to have an inkling of what this is about.

What is coming.

My hunter’s sights lock on her plump hindquarters and that fucking tail wagging from side to side. Her beautiful golden fur shimmers in the sunlight that dapples through the trees. Whatever form she might take, she is stunning.

She is about to be rutted within an inch of her life given she has five lusty mates, and all of us want her piece of that fine ass.

Eiden is closest. His stag radiates unhinged, and his usually playful prance around her has a distinctly aggressive undertone. But I know him well and can read him like an open book. The moment he shows signs of taking his enthusiasm too far, I will step in.

This is good, though. Let her wear herself out. We are stronger and bigger and will have stamina left when she has none. And that’s when the little doe is going to get fucked. By all of us. She won’t be leaving this woodland until she is good and bred.

A sudden snort from my left alerts me that I have gotten distracted and too close to Fawn for Eiden’s liking.

Eiden issues a deep resonating bellow—a challenge—and charges for me.

Ahead, Fawn comes to a skittering stop at a small gap in the canopy where sunlight finds a clearing.

But Eiden is bearing down on me, and I swing my head, ready to meet him.

Our antlers clatter together—asshole. I dig my hindquarters in and try to find purchase. He’s a big bastard in all his forms. But I’m not exactly weak. We disengage. And clash again, my body quivering with the strain.

I sense what is about to happen even before the air shimmies.

My body reacts instantaneously. I shed my stag form and assume the battle stag.

Two giant sets of antlers come together like a clap of thunder.

He roars at me.

I roar right back.

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