Date: Sat, 21 May 2005 15:45:17 -0700
From: The Satyr <the.satyr@gmail.com>
Subject: The Stag & the Bear, Chap 2

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This story is (c) The Oaken Satyr, 2005

The Stag & the Bear
  - A Continuation of the Cycle of Ashlan
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CHAPTER TWO: Hunting Party

Ashlan rose from the river with a roar, shaking out the last traces of
blood and filth from his flesh and hair. It had been too long since
he'd bathed and he felt better for it. He glanced around to make sure
that he was still alone, checking to see that his meager possessions
were still concealed by overhanging branches along the riverside and
leaned back, allowing his great bulk to settle lightly in the slow
moving waters.

The waters were warm here, though the river was naturally cold, coming
down out of the mountains as it did. But his keen senses told him that
the smell of rotten eggs near one of the banks was because the river's
flow had absorbed a bit of land where a spring was, and the hot spring
turned the water in that small pool warm. He swam over and settled his
bulk among the pleasantly warm stones, which soothed his
seemingly-eternally sore muscles.

He suddenly snapped awake.

He'd obviously fallen into slumber while there, his head resting on
the rocks that stuck
up out of the water. The light was beginning to dim and the air was
colder -- it had to have been two hours or more. Ashlan narrowed his
eyes and focused, seeking out that thing that had awakened him.

Then, he heard it again. Moving through the underbrush nearby,
obviously making their way toward the river -- the sounds of booted
feet and grumbling orcish voices. He smelled them coming, too. The
animals of the forest, which had ignored his presence the way they
would one of their own, fled at the coming of the orcs.

Ashlan echoed their prudence.

Reaching up to the rocks and pulling himself out of the water, he took
three strides and was beneath the overhanging branches. With nearly no
effort, he swung himself into the stronger middle branches of the
tree, willing them to bear his mighty weight. They bowed and then
straightened, supporting him. He gazed across the river, silent and
still as a buck in the underbrush.

He didn't have to wait long. The orcs moved up to the lake, and looked
around. They were a hunting party -- they would have been much
stealthier were it not for the fact that three of them struggled under
the weight of a pair of deer and a boar. Their tribe would eat well in
the near future. And they certainly would feast well tonight, too.

Ashlan smiled. Surely there was enough to share there. Enough food to
share, aye, and maybe more besides. A stag-god has hungers other than
for food. He perched in the tree and pulled on the roughly-stitched
buckskin breeches that he was fond of. It was rough done, as he was
forced to do it himself -- most orcs wore leather kilts and considered
breeches garb for humans. He chuckled, stuffing his hefty genitals
into the pouch of the breeches and laced them up. And he waited.

Night fell and the orcs cooked their meat. Not much, just enough to
sear the outside and melt the fat, making it bubble and the fire hiss
the way orcs liked. They tore into a haunch of venison and settled in
beside the fire. Ashlan watched them closely, for one of them seemed
smaller than the others. More hesitant. Obviously a young hunter,
probably even out on his first hunt.

His guess proved accurate as the orcs began to settle in for the
night, unrolling blankets and dicing for watches. The biggest of them
ignored the dicing game and called the young one over, who hesitated.
The bigger one, probably the hunting party's leader, growled and the
young orc moved to answer his call. He walked over to the leader, who
stood by, menacing, speaking to the younger one. Try as he might,
Ashlan couldn't hear their words from across the river, but his
intention was clear.

In a flash, the older one grasped the young orc by the back of his
neck and forced him to his knees, pulling aside his kilt and exposing
an impressive piece of cock. Grasping the smaller orc by the jaw, he
forced his cock between his lips and began pumping, holding the
smaller orc with one meaty paw. The others saw and let loose a whoop
and quickly abandoned their dice game, rushing over.

The ravaging that followed was familiar to Ashlan -- he'd been
similarly roughly treated by the braves of the Split Hoof tribe when
he first arrived. They took turns roughly fucking his ass and mouth,
forcing him to the ground and holding him immobile with their weight,
while the young orc could do nothing but struggle to breathe around
cock too fat for his gullet and thrash around vainly as his nethers
were filled with the thick meat of his betters.

Fortunately, he didn't have to put up with it for too long. The only
time most orcs made an effort to last any length of time in their
rutting was when they were raping war victims or making babies,
working up their strength to empower the young of their tribe. This
orc, though young, was beyond the point where his tribesmen should be
concerned for his growth and muscle development and was certainly no
war prisoner. They finished, one at a time, spilling their seed in his
mouth or ass, pulled out and waded down to the river to clean
themselves, leaving him battered and gasping for breath.

Apparently, he also had first watch, as shortly thereafter, most of
the hunting party was asleep, snoring beside the fire they'd built,
while the young one sat beside the fire, looking occasionally at the
leader of the hunting party, though whether in anger or something
else, Ashlan couldn't tell.

It was, he estimated, his best time to make his move.

Without a sound, Ashlan slipped into the water, taking several deep
breaths at the shock of the cold water in the cool night air. With one
final deep breath, he submerged himself and propelled himself across
the length of the lazily flowing river quickly, his muscles working
quickly to pull him across.

He allowed the river to carry him somewhat downstream, to a stony
embankment and quietly crawled out of the water, each motion chosen
deliberately to keep him hidden. He moved silently, angling his
approach so that the fire was between himself and the orc. Just at the
edge of the firelight, Ashlan reached into the massive tree whose
branches overhung the clearing and pulled himself into it with a small
leap.

The branches creaked ominously as they bore up his weight and he
silently cursed, whispering to them to be strong, to bear up his bulk.
Creaking some more, they did so, but not quickly. Or silently.

The young orc looked up from the small bone he was gnawing lazily. He
looked past the fire, into the darkness beyond. His eyes were strong
and he held up a hand to shade his eyes from the glow of the
firelight, allowing them to gather in the light at the edges of his
vision and see into the deep darkness beyond.

He stood and laid a hand on his long hunting blade at his belt. He
licked his lips and glanced over at his sleeping compatriots. Ashlan
watched him consider waking them. He obviously decided against it,
however -- Ashlan assumed that they weren't the most even tempered
hunters, especially when wakened suddenly by night-fears in their
sentry, afraid without being able to name his concern.

The young orc draw his blade and walked around the fire light,
stepping lightly past his compatriots in a hunting step. Ashlan smiled
-- this one was well on his way to mastering the hunter's stride, that
quick, low advance that silently ate up the ground between the hunter
and his prey. He moved, his hands held out to his sides, palm down
(though one still clutched the blade).

Ashlan climbed slightly higher and further out along the over-reaching
branches as the young hunter passed the line of the firelight. He
moved, silently and graceful as a hunting cat out along a branch that
should have never held his bulk, but did. He waited until he was
directly over the young orc and then wrapped his beefy thighs around
the branch and released his handhold, lowering himself upside down
over the orc's head.

Then, like lightning, Ashlan moved.

Swinging in an arc, he snatched up the orc by his shoulders. Bending
double, he slammed the sentry's head into the branch to which he clung
and then released his grip on the branch, dropping like a rock,
holding the orc out in front of him to bear the brunt of the impact.
Ashlan rolled, careful not to skewer the suddenly unconscious orc with
his antlers and sprang to his feet, one hand still gripping the orc.
With a grunt, he shouldered his captive and leapt, clearing the row of
sleeping orcs that lie between him and the fire, landing beside it.

With his other hand, he snatched up the venison haunch, still heavy
with bloody meat. Then, he leapt again, clearing the line of firelight
and the other row of sleeping orcs, landing in a thick-foliaged tree's
branches. There was a snap and the branch broke, falling to the ground
below, but before it truly began its fall, Ashlan and his captive were
on another pair of branches, closer to the trunk.

Ashlan crouched there, holding the young orc close to him, almost as a
mother might carry her child, though one didn't often shove the face
of a child into one's shoulder to ensure that it didn't make any
noise.

Though the noise of quick violence outside the camp was enough to make
the orcs stir slightly, the sudden movement of something the size of a
very large animal in the midst of their camp was enough to force the
orcs into full wakefulness. They sat bolt upright, but by the time
they could see clearly and had their bearings, Ashlan was gone from
their campsite.

He waited to see what their reaction would be. He chuckled when they
scurried about, arming themselves. It was perhaps a full minute or two
before they realized that one of their number was missing. He fled
into the night, silent on quick feet, using his mastery of the
hunter's tread that the young hunter had attempted to use earlier. His
movements were significantly more effective -- after all, he'd created
that tread (or at least, the god-half of him had).

He fled into the darkness of the forest. Soon, once he could no longer
see the light of the campfire, he cast about for an oak. Sniffing, he
searched and quickly found one. With the orc slung over his shoulder
and the haunch of meat clenched in his teeth, he scaled the tree
one-handed, settling into a crouch in its uppermost boughs.

Ashlan paused for breath, crossing his legs and settling the
still-unconscious orc in his lap, and the hunk of meat on the orc. He
smiled at the picture there in his lap -- both were just about good
enough to eat, he chuckled inwardly.

He slowed his breathing, until he found the rhythm by which the tree
breathed. Once he found it, he began to breathe with the tree. Inhale.
Exhale.

Slowly, once he knew that the tree was breathing with him, he began to
speed his breathing. Exhale. Inhale. On his exhalations, he poured
forth his will, imagining his limbs growing, bending, moving. He
paused, inhaling. He exhaled again, stretching his arms out to his
side, and he felt the tree quiver beneath him as its branches likewise
followed suit.

Methodically, over the next ten minutes, he slowly raised his arms on
his exhalations, extending them far out to his sides and then
beginning to curl them inwards, slowing arching them over his head
until his hands met.

As he did this, the tree that shared his breath did likewise,
extending its branches outward and then curling them around the
antlered god. They wove a roof over his head and knitted a floor
beneath his feet. With the tree-forts that he'd built in his youth
foremost in his mind, Ashlan changed the tree itself, moving with it,
breathing with it, giving up some of his own divine essence to the
tree to allow it to move as he did.

Finally, he lowered his hands and the branches creaked ominously
around him. His breathing returned to his own and the tree shuddered
as the link between god and oak was severed. The branches groaned once
more, losing their mobility, but though the tree shook unpleasantly,
the weavings were tight, and the branches held the new shape,
providing cover, concealment and refuge for Ashlan, his meal and his
captive.

Ashlan opened his eyes then and looked into the face of the terrified
young orc. The wide-eyed hunter fumbled for the blade at his belt and
snatched it from its sheathe, holding it before him, placing the
weapon between himself and his captor.

He shook only a little from the fear he obviously felt. There was
nothing he could do to make his scent of fear, however. Ashlan
reclined against the woven boughs of their sanctuary and chuckled. The
young hunter, quickly began to glance around, taking furtive glances
at his surroundings while never truly letting his eyes leave Ashlan.

"Where...where are we?" he said, trying to sound threatening. Ashlan
merely smiled and picked up the haunch of venison. He regarded it and
began to tear off chunks of it with his strong jaws and small,
wickedly pointed eyeteeth. The orc watched him in confusion and
terror.

"I said..."

"I heard you, whelp. I simply chose not to answer."

The orc narrowed his eyes dangerously at the dismissal in the antlered
man's tone. He scuttled along the floor of the sanctuary, backing away
from Ashlan, while taking care to more closely examine the
intertwining tree boughs.

"Do you like it? It is a small trick I learned from the shamans of my
tribe. They know the song to sing to the tree, though the trees don't
listen to them." Ashlan looked at the young orc, who returned his gaze
to the thick-hewed, antlered creature before him.

"What are you?" the orc asked, a slight quiver in his voice. Ashlan's
grin fell and his eyes dropped to the haunch of venison in his meaty
paw. Cocking his head slightly, he held out the huge portion of meat,
offering the orc a share. The orc hesitated a moment and then reached
for the meat.

In a flash, Ashlan seized the orc's outreaching hand, dropping the
venison as he snatched at the hunter. A brief scuffle followed, one
that ended with the young orc sprawled on the floor of the sanctuary,
his arm wrenched behind his back, Ashlan kneeling on him, pinning him
thoroughly. He leaned over, stretching his bulk over that of the
smaller orc, grinding his pelvis against the buttocks of the young
hunter trapped beneath him.

"A stag of seven tines, I am," Ashlan whispered lustily in the orc's
ear. The orc gasped and the sweet perfume of his fear became much
stronger. Ashlan's cock leapt at the sudden scent and he ground his
cock against the orc. "A stag of seven tines. Hunter, I am -- aye, of
animal, orc and man. Who am I, little one?"

The orc began to weep the precious tears of terror.

"Stag-god of the Split Hoofs," the orc whispered. Ashlan licked the
young orc's ear, his breath hot on its rough edges. That was enough
for the orc, who began to tremble and sob in earnest.
"Please...please...don't kill me. I'll...I will worship you...please...anything
you ask..."

Ashlan lifted himself up to his knees, and spun the young orc over
onto his back. He paused and looked at the sight before him. The orc
was well-muscled, his flesh a pleasing dark hue the color of moss in
the deep forest. His shoulders were broad, as was common among
orc-kind, and his head was shaven and tattooed with the symbols of his
tribe. Five ragged scars stood out against his clean-shaven pate,
tattooed to appear as bolts of stylized lightning, but they were
obviously made by a very wide, very taloned paw.

With a quick grab, Ashlan ripped away the orc's vest, revealing his
bared skin beneath.

Ashlan lowered his head, taking the dark nipple that stood out against
the orc's muscled flesh in his teeth, probing with tongue and biting --
ever so gently, but with enough force and precision to make the young
orc twitch -- with his pointed teeth. The orc's breath came raggedly
and his sobs turned to gasps.

Masterfully, Ashlan worshipped the young orc's strong torso, laying
claim with lips and tongue to his throat and neck, with teeth to his
nipples, with tongue to his muscled belly. The orc twitched as though
the touch of Ashlan's spittle shocked him -- and perhaps hit did, mused
the stag-god.

Swiftly, Ashlan worked the leather kilt from around young orc's thick
waist and his thick cock whipped upward, slapping the young orc's
belly. With a snarl, Ashlan captured that cock in his mouth and
swallowed it whole. The orc slammed his head against the wood of the
sanctuary and bellowed. For what seemed to be an eternity, Ashlan
worked his thick tongue up and down the length of the orc's fat cock,
tightening his lips and swallowing it with savage gulps.

Finally, as the orc's balls drew up close to the base of his cock,
Ashlan stretched wide his lips and swallowed the orc whole -- even his
balls, clamping his lips down around the base of the orc's cock and
working the entirety of his genitals within the warm velvet of his
mouth. With another bellow, the young orc came and Ashlan began to
swallow quickly.

When the young orc came to his senses again, he realized that at some
point during the stag-god's ministrations upon his cock, the antlered
creature had worked one of his fingers into the orc's ass, probing
deep between his muscled buttocks. The orc remained laying back, his
head reclined against the woven wooden floor and looked up at Ashlan.

The stag-god smiled and slipped his other hand beneath the orc's
buttocks and lifted him into the air with one hand, keeping the finger
of his other hand firmly planted within the orc's tight hole. Ashlan's
grin turned more lascivious as he pulled the orc against him.

The orc's ass rested against Ashlan's lap as he knelt, raising his
middle up off the ground. The orc clasped Ashlan about the waist with
his strong legs and took a deep breath. He could feel the hard cock of
the stag-god resting against the tenderness between his balls and his
hole.

"You seem resigned, little hunter," Ashlan said, smiling as he reached
forward and grasped the orc's nipple giving it a tweak. "As though you
had some onerous duty to perform yet."

"Do I not, Horned One?" the orc asked, not daring to meet the antlered
god's gaze. "I think you're here to claim something from me, and I
doubt whether or not I want it will stop you. As well resign myself to
it, no?"

Ashlan's deep, booming laugh startled the orc.

"Little orc, you misunderstand! You see, I have no need of forcing
anything from you -- when I am done with you," he said, reaching up to
grasp the orc's leg's around the knees, hoisting him up off the ground
further. "When I am done with you, I shan't need to force anything --
you'll beg me to split you in half!"

With that, he bowed his head and pulled the orc's obscenely parted
legs up to his face. Ashlan clamped his lips down between the orc's
buttocks, chewing and probing with lips and tongue. His thick, meaty
tongue made contact with the tenderness that had just hosted his
finger and he licked the hole and the tender flesh around it. The orc
gasped and arched his back, squeezing his buttocks together, but
nothing he did could force Ashlan to stop.

And, truth be known, the orc didn't want him to.

Terrible are the secrets of the gods, it is told, but also glorious.
The hunter wondered, as Ashlan worked his slick tongue deeper into his
ass, why he'd never imagined that the Lord of the Hunt should be able
to do such things. He berated himself as his tight hole spread and
opened to the stag-god's tongue, for it made sense that a god of
fertility such as he should be able to get this reaction from those he
lay with.

Then, he lost all thought as Ashlan's tongue, the size and thickness
of a lesser man's cock entire, penetrated the orc, working dollops of
thick spit into the core of him, stretching the walls of his asshole.
Soon, the only sounds in the woven tree-chamber were the wet
ministrations of the stag-god's tongue in and on his hole, and the low
murmuring from the orc:

"Fuck me...gods, gods...my god...fuck me...eat me...make me yours..."

Ashlan reared his head, pulling his tongue from the orc's nethers with
a crow of victory. His antlers scraped the leaved ceiling as he
straightened and flipped the orc over onto his belly. The orc's cock
slapped against his bare, muscled belly.

Ashlan pushed the orc face-first to the ground and reached under him,
grasping him by the hips to arch his ass towards him. The stag-god
took his thick, terrible cock in hand -- a veritable weapon of a cock,
hard and thick and veiny, the size of a baby's arm, he was fond of
noting -- and shoved the head up against the orc's slimy pucker.

The orc howled as the meaty, purple head of Ashlan's cock punctured
him and he tried to scramble away. Ashlan's mighty hands lashed out
and seized the orc by hip and by shoulder and bore down. The orc
collapsed under the bulk of the stag-god, but his struggles squeezed
more of the slick precum from the head of Ashlan's cock, lubricating
his hole.

"There you are, little hunter. See? How easy it is?" Ashlan crooned to
him, holding him down while he struggled. Ashlan wrapped one arm
around his chest, pinning the orc's arm to his side as he did and drew
his face near to the orc's slightly pointed ear. He bit, his tiny
fangs hurting exquisitely. He worked with teeth and tongue on the
orc's ear, letting his cock both widen and slicken the little hunter's
asshole beneath him while he drew the hunter's attention from the
burning pain in his nethers.

"There, now. Much easier now," Ashlan said to him, moving his arm
upward so that the wrapped his thick forearm around the orc's neck,
supporting him almost lovingly, but the implied threat of the mighty
god's ability to break his neck was there, too. "I'm going to move it
some."

Even with the warning, the orc hissed in surprise as Ashlan drew his
cock slightly out, letting the pucker of the orc's hole grip him just
behind the head of his member tightly and then slowly pushing forward.
The orc whimpered and visibly relaxed as Ashlan slowly pushed his hips
forward, while chewing on his ears.

Soon, the thick, powerful cock of the stag-god of the Split Hoofs was
buried deeply in the young hunter of the Thunderous Paw and both of
them sighed. Ashlan smiled as he watched the young orc's body accustom
itself to his presence within him -- all creatures that he fucked did
this. All of them. It was natural and right that he should lodge his
cock into every other living thing and though they often fought it at
first, once it was there, he'd yet to meet a creature that did not
accept it and even crave it.

Ashlan waited a little longer, waited for the orc's patience to wear
thin and his desires to burst into full burn. He chuckled as the orc
fidgeted, moving his ass about, just a little at first and then more
wantonly. Finally, the young orc was pushing back, trying to get more
of Ashlan deeper into him.

"What did I say, little hunter? Did I not tell you?" Ashlan whispered
in the orc's ear and then bit into the back of his neck. The orc
shuddered beneath the stag-god, eliciting pleasure in his movements.
"I told you this would happen -- you desire my rut, little orc. Say
it."

There was a pause as the orc simply whimpered and pushed back some
more. But there was no doubting that Ashlan was master here and the
orc got nothing until he spoke.

"Please...please fuck me. It's all the way in me, stag-god. Its there!
Please...please just fuck me..." He seemed near tears. Slowly, biting down
on the orc's neck, Ashlan withdrew his cock and the orc shuddered in
pleasure.

Then, without warning, Ashlan slammed it to the hilt in the orc. The
suddenness took his breath way and he was utterly unprepared for the
assault. Ashlan raised himself to one foot, bending at the knee, to
provide himself the leverage to truly thrust himself forward. He
gripped the orc by the shoulders to prevent him from moving with the
momentum, and Ashlan began to truly fuck.

He drove himself deep into the young orc, splitting his ass obscenely
with his thick cock. The orc thrashed about, almost in a fit, from the
sensations that were being punched into his body by the forceful rut.

Ashlan then leaned back and pulled the orc with him. The stag-god
leaned against the central trunk of their sanctuary and guided the
young orc to grip the branches above his head, until the young hunter
was squatting over Ashlan's cock, holding on for dear life as Ashlan
punched his cock into the slick, burning hole above him.

The orc's legs began to wobble and he collapsed against Ashlan as the
stag-god literally fucked an orgasm out of him -- the orc's helfty
cock, standing hard and gorged, shot nearly across the room,
spattering the floor, the orc and Ashlan's legs with thick semen.

As the orc's nethers tightened cruelly in the throes of orgasm, Ashlan
was brought to the brink and over, and as the last dribbles of cum
bubbled out of the orc's cock, Ashlan's cock spat its load deep within
the orc's nethers, slicking the hole.

The two collapsed, exhausted. The young orc curled close to Ashlan,
keeping the stag-god's cock wedged tightly in his ass, grasping the
mighty arms of the horned one and wrapping himself in them, as a lover
might. In nearly no time, the young orc was sleeping.
Ashlan simply held him close, feeling his cock lessen in hardness and
urgency, though remaining firmly in the young orc's ass. He smiled and
watched the orc slip off into slumber and before he knew it, his own
eyes had fluttered closed and the mighty stag-god slept.

+++++

Movement woke them. As they slept, a storm had rolled in, and the
winds blew through the branches of the tree around them. Though
Ashlan's magic kept the bower safe and warm, the tree still bucked and
moaned in the wind.

Ashlan looked down at the orc beneath him, who lay awake and still.
The orc shuddered as Ashlan's cock, of still slight hardness and
firmly wedged within him, shifted. The shudder brought Ashlan a wave
of pleasure and his cock began to fill again, firming and gaining in
girth. Ashlan rolled slightly onto his side, pulling the orc with him.
He reached down and raised the orc's leg to give him better access to
those muscled buttocks, and began to slowly slide his cock in and out
of the orc's hole.

They rutted slowly, almost as lovers might. The wind howled like an
angry bear, and its roar was lightning. Even that roar was drowned out
by the sound of Ashlan's gasps as he came once more, and the young orc
followed soon after, his cock in his fist.

"They say that the roar of the wind and the crack of thunder is a
god," Ashlan whispered to him as they lay there, the orc's head
cradles on Ashlan's massive arm. The orc turned his head slightly to
look into Ashlan's face, and searched his eyes.

"It is," the orc said, quietly, almost as though he were distracted by
his awe of the storm. "A mighty god. Our god."

"You are of the Thunderous Paw, then?" Ashlan said, and the orc smiled.

"You knew we were. That's why you took me."

Ashlan growled low in his throat. He misliked the humor and
familiarity in this little orc's tone. The orc looked at him warily.

"It's true," the orc said, more quietly. "You knew we were Thunderous Paw."

"Perhaps I took you because I wanted you."

"Anything you desire is yours, Stag-god of the Split Hoofs. And if you
did take me because you wanted me, then it was doubly lucky that you
found me, for that meant I had two things you wanted: an ass, and the
knowledge of the Bear God's cave."

Ashlan roared with laughter then and pulled the orc more tightly to him.

"Perhaps it was doubly lucky then, yes." The two of them settled back
to listen to the wind some more. The storm had nearly blown itself out
by the time Ashlan spoke again.

"So. Where is it?"

"Please don't go to that place," the orc said suddenly, turning in
Ashlan's arms to face the stag-god, his eyes pleading and afraid. "He
is terrible and powerful. He will kill you."

Ashlan looked down into the orc's eyes and smiled his wicked, lustful smile.

"Perhaps I will overpower him and do to him what I did to you." The
orc sat up then, shivering. He looked afraid, Ashlan thought, but not
for the stag-god. This was a personal fear.

"You have met him."

The orc turned his face away. Grey morning light had begun to filter
through the branches, but it wasn't enough to illuminate his face yet.

"All of us have. It is he who makes us braves in the Thunderous Paw.
We are given to him after our rite of passage ceremony into manhood.
He takes us, and uses us. If we...if we survive it, we are warriors of
the tribe."

Ashlan furrowed his brow. The making of boys in that fashion was
something that the braves of a tribe should do. Men who could help
boys become men. Gods could never do that.

"It is the way of the gods, little orc. We are born, just as men are.
We must learn from others who know these ways. The Bear-God of the
Thunderous Paws is the only god who yet exists to teach me. There is
no one else."

The orc stood and walked to the edge of the woven platform, which was
beginning to come apart and return to its normal shape. He looked out
of it.

"I think you're afraid for me," Ashlan said, curiously. The orc looked
at him then, and Ashlan saw the truth of it, in the set of the orc's
jaw and his clenched fists.

"I think I am, yes. I shouldn't be. I should hate you. But you...you
remind me of someone. Someone I think I love, perhaps, but I don't
know who," the orc almost snarled, hating to admit it. Ashlan rose
from his seated position and crossed to the orc. The orc turned his
back to Ashlan, who wrapped his arms around him, running his hands
over the smooth, green skin and pulled the young brave close.

"I know who it is," Ashlan said.

"It is one whose lusts you fear. One whose strength you don't
understand. One given to obeying none but his own self. I am you,
little orc," Ashlan whispered into his ear. "The stag-god is every
male in rut, man, orc or other thing. I am that part of you which
wishes to seize up all the things in the world that catch his fancy
and use them as he sees fit, joyfully. I am that within you which sees
no use for your weaknesses, but doesn't despise you for them."

The orc listened, his head cradled against Ashlan's chest.

"I am you, little orc. And now that you have seen me, met me, fucked
me, you will never be content with your life again, until it is remade
in my image."

"I want to worship you, I think. But how can I become a Split Hoof?
I'm of the Thunderous Paw," the orc whispered.

"You have already worshipped me. We have worshipped together. And now
the only true worship you can offer me is to become strong. To seize
what you will, because that is your right, not despising others for
their inability to do so, but instead honoring them -- if none are
prey, who can be predator? Does the wolf hate the doe because she
cannot kill him in return?"

"Come," Ashlan said, pulling away from the orc and gathering up his
things, donning pieces of clothing here and there, not so much to
cover up his nudity as to avoid carrying them. "The magic of this
bower is nearly done, and this tree must be allowed to return to its
normal state."

As they swung down out of the tree, the young orc brave pointed to a
massive mountain, its top swathed in black clouds.

"There. Atop the Thunderpeak. That is where he is." Ashlan looked at
the orc brave and leaned forward to kiss him.

"I go."