And thus another chapter of Wild.
The word "Harbinger" is generally meant to be a portent of things to come, typically bad. Like the toll marking the witching hour in which so much nastiness is believed to occur. Or it could be an omen, good or bad. It could also be an act by someone that leads to something else. Such as an easily discovered lie can lead you to a great deal of trouble. A Harbinger does not necessarily have to be a big thing, a grand gesture, or something that seems important at the time. Sort of like the flap of butterfly wings are the cause of hurricanes on the other side of the world in chaos Theory. But without the butterfly the other thing would not happen...at least that is what the theory would have us believe anyway.
In this chapter, the harbinger occurs. Our Feral Female takes it to foreshadow her personal demise. Ferals, in general, are rather fatalistic by nature. Those who have suffered abuse, are surrounded by obvious dangers, and see a great deal of death in those around them tend to be.
Yes, our Feral Female is the lost Akemi. If you hadn't caught that I'm sorry. I'm kind of cryptic in my character introductions, especially when I have introduced them before. Yes, the sick non-feral male is Sesshoumaru. Again, I already introduced him with plenty of clues that his health was going to take a drastic turn for the worse. please use your head as you read this. I love Plot devices and I love waiting several chapters to use them. I'm a big fan of puzzles and making people think. Hell in Chronicles I left my plot devices sitting in the back ground for twenty plus chapters before using them. Hopefully this fic won't be so long, but I am giving you fair warning about the clues and things. Still if you have questions, go ahead and ask. I love talking my theories of Youkai behavior and stuff. I've really thought about these things.
P.S. Stuff happens in this chapter. Stuff that Rumiko Takahashi would never put in her work. She's not that nice to her characters! Heehee.
Harbinger
Seven times the moon hid in darkness, seven times it danced full in the sky over her den and still his illness lingered.
When she first took him in she had not imagined she would still be keeping him in company for so long. She was simply to save him from death, bring him back from the brink, and then send him on his way. All she had seemingly managed was to prevent his demise.
Technically the non-Feral male was still among the living. He breathed, he moved – restlessly in his fevered sleep. He woke occasionally, though he never seemed fully aware when his eyes opened and nothing around him caught his attention except for her.
His willfully stubborn disregard for all her attempts to make him well, made her that much more determined to do it. All of her attention and unnecessary energy was devoted towards making him better. She shortened her hunts, spent less time outside. She was concentrating so hard on this single goal, she failed to pay attention to what the passage of time truly meant to her.
Right now she was berating herself for being six kinds of stupid for it. She should have seen the signs, expected its coming. Unlike most Ferals, she was deucedly regular about it, but it simply slipped her mind while she fought for his health.
The male that had posed no threat in early spring by his very weakness was now likely the instrument of her demise whether he was aware of it or not.
Oh she was a fool. The promise of death flowed through her veins and stared at her with temptation. It was a foregone conclusion. Like every youkai, Feral or otherwise, her body was hardwired to lose this battle no matter how hard she fought against it.
Her season had come. Right on time, it snuck below her notice until the flow of heat under her skin made her undeniably aware of her predicament. The ache had not yet set in, but her blood already flowed hot, making her skin feel cold and desperate for warmth, the warmth of a living body touching hers.
Every other period of fertility, she would have bottled herself inside her den, feeding the fire for the warmth she knew she didn't need. But this was only the precursor of what was to come. It would be a hellish week of wanting, of need.
Even so, it was preferable to death by rutting with a male, by carrying, by birthing, or by nurturing what she birthed. Some Ferals were lucky, their cycles flowed rarely and so long as the female paid attention, easy to guard. Still any fertile season was dangerous for it was the one time a female could not fight against the need to procreate.
She let out a puff of frustrated air. What she wouldn't give to be alone.
The feeling of lacking warmth increased until the natural coolness of the air pricked painfully along every inch of her skin and the small amount of clothing she wore seemed to press unbearably against her. With a groan she removed her coverings, preferring the pricking to the pressure, but in pain either way. It was either remove them now while she was still coherent or shred it later when the aching consumed her with its madness. Sadly her clothing was the least of her problems.
She pressed herself back against the cool den wall, ignoring how its mild temperature seemed to spear her back with jagged frozen knives. She hoped if she pressed hard enough she would sink into the earth and away from the male slumbering unknowingly in her nest where he had been since she brought here. She didn't want to touch him even while she couldn't remove her eyes from the fragile, chiseled features of his face.
Her body began to prepare itself to accept a male body into her female one.
He shifted restlessly in his sleep, rolling onto his back with a toss of silver hair.
Her youki flared and her control over her scent faltered and finally failed altogether as always happened during her heat. The den was flooded with her personal scent, laced as it was with pheromones.
The restless male abruptly stilled, taking in the scented air with every even breath.
It was strange for him to be so still. She almost wondered what his calming at her scent meant, but her body chose to throw her into the aching full force just then. Her eyes closed as a high keening sound escaped her. It was always a surprise how strongly the ache would hit her. She felt it in every inch of her being. Her breath gasped out of her open mouth as her emptiness seemed to grow until it was all she was aware of.
It took several moments of pressing herself sharply into the den wall to ground herself before she could turn her attention outwards again. It was then she saw true temptation.
Like any male with the scent of female in his senses, the non-feral male's body had reacted to her fertile scent. She could see his offering for the ache jutting up below the muscled planes she had so painstakingly guided his youki to rebuild. Even as she watched his body moved slightly to find her emptiness with an upward thrust and her mouth went dry.
She didn't want a pup, but she had trouble thinking past the ache. She didn't want to carry a life that would ultimately fail within a year, but her body reacted to his motion. The clamor of protests and urgings in her head were pointless and irrelevant. There was only one possible conclusion for this situation. She knew it, had known it from the moment she first realized her heat was upon her. The only choice here was whether she chose to initiate it before she lost all control or after. If she waited, chances are she would hurt him in the process. And she would likely still suffer out the entire period of heat, something his health could not afford.
Again she studied his face, attempting briefly, to ignore the motions he attempted in response to her pheromones. He still seemed to slumber. Perhaps if she did this, it would be like the other seasons where she supplied something for her body to clutch at and nothing more. Nothing like the rutting that had called death to the other females she had known.
Slowly she allowed herself to slide down to the ground, eyes still stuck on the male and that piece of him that could give relief. She had never bothered to stare at him before, though his look and his body were well known to her by now. Staring gave his skin the extra glow in the firelight as her eyes began to see the youki dancing along his edges.
This male, despite his illness and his long-term slumber, held power in his soul. Power she could feel and sometimes, like now, see. Power she occasionally feared lest he turn it against her.
In this moment it drew her across the short distance to where he lay on her bed, moving unconsciously to answer the call broadcast in her scent. For the first time in her Feral life, she moved timidly. Unsure of each move she made, involuntarily reacting to each empty thrust he made.
She moved over him warily, her gaze switching to watch his eyes for the first flutter of awareness. As much as she told herself she would move away if he stirred so much as an eyelash, she knew it wouldn't make a difference. She was too close, too far gone, her decision already made.
Finally she hovered over him, her nearness seemed to still his movement as if aware she was there and about to grant them both the relief their bodies demanded. She paused, a single moment of rationality burst through her hormonal haze berating her with the reality of what this would mean for her, death, pain and suffering. A breath filled with tension and the scent of male quickly shoved reality out of the den.
Ever so slowly, cautiously, timidly she fed him into the void the aching made seem so large. Each small measure of flesh went further to filling the emptiness until she leaned back in contented bliss, savoring the feeling of being filled without serious pain as she had experienced in her other seasons. It was the closest to pleasure she expected to get.
Hands suddenly clamped on her hips and her spine snapped to attention. Her startled gaze darted to the face of the male cradled inside her body. His eyes were frighteningly open and bloody. He wasn't Feral, she knew. Non-ferals often showed Feral eyes when weakened, enraged or carnally excited.
She was unaware of non-feral rutting, but she doubted it was that different from the Feral version, painful and bloody. Her muscles tensed further in wary expectation and anxiety. She was afraid.
He growled at her to relax, a sound that ended in a pleading whine. He didn't want her fear. His head tilted to consider her. She almost believed he pondered how to go about soothing her fears.
In the end, he shifted his clawed hands and lifted her off him, groaning as her body clenched in protest of his withdrawal. He held her securely above him a moment before thrusting upward.
Her eyes glazed over as actual pleasure shot through her body, bounding from the pads of her toes until she thought she felt it under her tongue. Could it be possible to enjoy the act that would ultimately doom her? A Feral's life held only pain and the absence of pain. Pleasure was not something she knew or expected.
He allowed himself to fall from her before thrusting upward again. Apparently it was possible, as the sensations repeated themselves each time his hips thrust upwards to meet hers.
She wasn't aware when she fought her way free of his grip to meet his upward movement with a downward one of her own. She didn't notice when one of his claws began to roam in ways that increased her sense of pleasurable anticipation. But she did notice when he began to swell. She was completely aware of the way her body tightened until they stuck together in the way of inu conceiving.
She felt as he filled her with warmth just as she exploded with feeling so wonderful she wasn't sure she could live through it. And when it was done, she returned to herself to find the two of them locked together with her slumped over his chest panting. She glanced up at her male to find him watching her. Gently he swept her hair from her face.
He growled questioningly and she responded to sooth him. A moment later he closed his eyes to rest, the illness catching him up and sucking him down again. She was disappointed to see him sleep, but being Feral made her practical.
He hadn't stayed awake for longer than a few breaths together in over two seasons. She growled in amusement as her breathing began to slow to a more normal regular pace. She was lucky he had managed to stay awake long enough to finish.
She studied him as her heart finally reduced its speed. He was sweaty again, which meant he'd have to be bathed. For once she would most likely enjoy it. He had gifted her with pleasure beyond her ken, and for that she would gladly care for his body.
Now was as good a time as any since she was trapped against him for the interim. She leaned up to lick the salt off his face starting at his forehead and slowly moving down. The taste of his skin and his most recent exertion tingled pleasantly on her tongue. His taste had never bothered her; rather it was the tedium of the chore.
There was nothing of the everyday in it this time. Just as she reached his left cheek her head was seized in one clawed hand and her lips were sealed against his in a single moment. He coaxed her mouth open before exploring his own taste on her tongue. Her eyes rolled with this new pleasure.
She didn't know what it was called or what purpose it served, but it was delightful. Before she even noticed his other hand was missing in action she felt it touch her near where he still filled her and her senses began to send her writhing in ecstasy. He even managed to find enough leeway for a little movement inside her before she exploded a second time and his special warmth renewed itself.
This time when she found herself again she was sprawled over him with his nose buried in her neck.
He whined that she let him rest this time and she huffed.
She had been letting him rest, she growled, but he needed a bath. He responded by rolling over top of her with a growl, slipping free of her mid-motion, before proceeding to bathe her.
Again her body heated up as if in heat, which was impossible considering both their bodies believed she had conceived. He wasn't even half done before she was squirming with need that had no reason but he fulfilled it even so.
Exhausted and pleasantly boneless she succumbed to the lethargy of fatigue and exertion, actually managing to fall asleep before he did.