Chapter 100: 98. Eastern Desert, Part 1 (Suka)

98. Eastern Desert, Part 1 (Suka)

I cut through the field like sharp teeth through soft flesh. The trail Alex’s Kobold and her clan left is plain as day to my nose. I smell their reptilian body odors tinted by a trace of metal from their crude armor and the hint of underlying smoke from their draconic bloodline. Grasses and weeds bend before my passing or else I sear them to kindling with a flare of magic. Refusing to be distracted by the scents of bunny tracks, Goblin patrols, or Dire Wolves in heat, my paws devour miles.

This mission will succeed. Must succeed! I’ll return the surrogate bearing Alex and Gabby’s child if I have to drag the Kobold all the way home. Anything less will shame me, and Alex by extension.

Last night, I gave up on keeping Alex to myself. Gabby was right, her magic demands she take more and more monsters into her harem. Rather than isolate her from the source of her power, I realized I must work to expand her harem while redoubling my efforts to evolve into stronger yet stronger forms. That’s my path if I ever intend to officially take Alex as my mate.

After our dual, Alex made me her bitch, as was her right. She fucked me and bred me (both enjoyable) but hasn’t taken me for wife. I think she understands my feelings at some level. True mates, if not equals, stand together side-by-side.

Alex is strong. Stronger than the Bunny Patron, the Harpy Matron, and Dura. She’s accomplished feats I can’t hope to replicate. Meanwhile, I don’t like my chances facing the Ogress astride my back even with the strength I gained from Alex’s Power Bond. That can’t stand.

I should be first among her harem. If not that, then at least I should not tuck my tail and bow my head to any of them. Until then, how can I claim to be Alex’s true mate?

“The Eastern Desert is over the next hill,” Lucinia says while swooping down to a dozen feet overhead.

Ah, yes, the feathered singer. I almost forgot that one of Alex’s minor conquests is accompanying us. I didn’t need her to tell me that; the scent of hot sand wafts through the air in swelling waves as we draw near.

I would’ve refused Lucinia’s aid if not for Alex’s order. We’ll see how useful she proves in battle. At least she didn’t flee like the blond one; Alex had the right of it selecting the braver of the Lesser Sirens as a companion.

We crest the hill and descend to the desert as plains give way to sand. The grasses binding the soil with their roots gradually become more seldom in this drier part of the region until only sparse islands of life remain. It’s bleak, yet beautiful in a way.

A mundane animal would struggle to follow the Kobold’s trail here with the shifting sands and blistering wind, but my Cinderwolf nose isn’t stumped in the slightest.

The sun seems hotter and the sand blazes, but I like the heat. It matches the embers in my core. I no longer need loll my tongue and pant like a dog for relief since the change took me. Yet, there is flesh beneath my fur and blood in my veins. I can’t survive without water.

Perhaps the bird can spot some from above.

Worse is the sand’s softness. I feel like I’m wasting half each step’s effort to this loose footing. Muscles start to burn in places I didn’t know I had. On top of that, the uneven ground makes even keeping my balance a challenge. My allies quickly notice the dramatic reduction in my speed.

“You alright, Suka?” Flou1 asks from the ruby-encrusted scarf around my neck billowing in the desert wind.

“Puppy need nappy?” Dura teases as her feet dig into my sides. “Old Orc sayin’, ‘Pain is weakness leaving da body.’”

I use a Cinderwolf Rush just to shut them up. The embers inside my core glow each time I use the ability accompanied by a twinge of searing pain. I have to wait a bit for them to cool down before using it again. A tumbleweed catches fire as I pass and turns to ash.

“Now we talkin’!”

We go bounding over another few hills before something catches my interest.

“Why stopp’n?” Dura slides off my back to the ground as I come to a halt. At least I’m larger when in my beast form. It’s embarrassing looking up from one warrior to another unless my body weighs more to compensate. She plants her fists on her wide hips and surveys the horizon.

I watch her from the corner of my eye as I probe the sand with my nose, searching for the source of the off-odor I detected. She’s a powerful warrior and a beauty to match. How am I not supposed to be jealous?

She's everything a pack leader's mate should aspire to be. Tall and muscled from head to toe with broad shoulders, rock-hard abs, and confidence to match. And those breasts! Tits too large to cup in one’s hand, the cleavage further bolstered by the way she folds her arms under them. Take off that damn fur bikini top so I can get a good look at them!

I catch a whiff of her Orge musk... I thought I hated it but, the more I'm with her, the more addictive her scent becomes. What does she taste like? My mind drifts to last night when she grabbed both of my wrists in one hand and plundered my pussy with her thick, meaty tongue. That technique must’ve been refined between many Goblin thighs, but I’d be willing to volunteer my snatch again…

No, focus on the mission!

My wet, black nose bumps into something cold, hard, and metallic. I grasp it in my jaws and pull the object to the surface. It’s a pot bent into the shape of a helmet by clumsy, but persistent hits from a rock.

“That’s Lizardman armor,” Flou1 says from personal experience fighting alongside them in the underground yesterday.

“What doin’ here?”

Lucinia lands on my back, perching between my shoulder blades. “It is quite hot. They likely couldn’t bear to wear it here, no matter how valuable.”

Already the metal is heating in my jaws beneath the sun’s rays. It would just weigh us down like it did the Lizard folk. I drop the helmet and shake the bird off like I’m ridding my fur of water. “We’re on the right track. Let’s keep moving.”

My warrior woman companion nods. I approach Dura, who slings herself onto me, planting her firm, luscious glutes on my back as she straddles me.

It’s another few minutes’ travel before anything breaks the monotony of dunes. Three green figures stand before us over a fourth lying on the sand. Heat haze obscured the details until we get within spitting distance.

A scaly profile lays at the feet of three Cactus Treefolk.

The first is tall and skinny with four long, spindly arms. Each arm has two slim hands with five slender fingers. Her breasts are -A cup and she has no curves to speak of, just boyish lean hips and waist. She’s naked except for the thorny wool on her mons pubis.

The second is short and curvy with prickly pears protruding all over her body. Four flat paddles extend from her head, each bearing a unique feminine face. The conjoined sisters wear nothing but a leafy green top to bind and support their heavy breasts.

The third is big and heavy with a barrel chest and a barrel belly. He’s clearly a barrel Cactus man with two spiny balls and a thorny cock. His face has a heavy beard of needles.

In fact, all three of them are covered in spines, both short and long, both thick and thin.

Dura dismounts me and summons her club as they notice our approach. It’s a thick piece of wood studded with iron. Few are fool enough to anger an Ogress within range of her club.n/o/vel/b//in dot c//om

“Buzz off,” the foolish barrel Cactus man says.

Dura’s grip on her club tightens. “Hand ov’r Lizard.”

“~Listen to us~” Lucinia sings as she swings low to let herself be heard. “Oh!”

“Shut your trap.” The spindly Cactus girl points a dozen fingers at our feathery ally and fires needles at her from the tips. Lucinia narrowly flaps out of range, but her song is spoiled.

“More meat on the menu!” the barrel Cactus man shouts as he shoots a volley in all directions by ejecting every spine on his body at once.

There’s no evading the omnidirectional burst attack; instead, Flou1 hardens her body into a sheet of crystal blood that shields me from the worst of it.

Dura interposes her club, but there are too many needles and dozens slip past. Fortunately, she’s an Ogre. The sharp projectiles barely penetrate her tough skin. Having felt the sting of his attack, Dura shoulders her club and strolls forward.

Seeing their companions attack, the prickly pear Cactus sisters grow extra-long needles on their hands and fling them at us. Dura takes them without flinching while I dodge aside with Cinderwolf Rush. Then I dart forward at the three Cactus folk.

The spindly Cactus girl trains all four arms, eight hands, and forty fingers on me, releasing a continuous barrage of needles my way as replacements are constantly regrown. I accelerate with another Cinderwolf Rush and feel the burn deep inside. The majority of the spines fly past me while Flou1 blocks a swath of lucky shots.

A third Cinderwolf Rush has me circling the spindly one while she fails to find me with her needles. Blazing heat in my chest keeps me from pushing further. My lungs burn and my limbs sting with scalding pain, but the Cactus girl is doing much worse.

Having stoked my heat to this degree ignites the needles coming near me. She attempts to flee, but there’s nowhere to escape with me circling her. Then her fingers start to smolder and burn.

The barrel Cactus man shoots volley after volley, but nothing touches me, and the pricks don’t strike deep enough to harm Dura.

Seeing their needles have no effect, the prickly pear sisters purse their lips to shoot four streams of pressurized Water Magic. It's nothing like the weak faucet flow Alex produces with Mermaid Magic. In fact, it pushes Dura a step to the side when two strike the Ogress. Otherwise, no harm done. It barely slows Dura by even a second. The Ogress calmly steps within a pace of the barrel Cactus, takes her studded club in both hands, and swings. Chunks of plant flesh splatter across the dunes.

Aiming at me is easy when I'm running in circles. All the prickly pear sisters do is point their streams at a section of the path I pass through. Hitting me is another matter. The flow vaporizes before touching fur when I have my heat stoked to this degree. I lose some heat, but that also cools me enough to use another Cinderwolf Rush.

The spindly Cactus girl attempts to stop herself from burning with her own Water Magic, but the result is just as bad. The heat is still there, just transferred to the vapor. She dies as a steamed vegetable instead of roasted. I leave nothing to chance; they attacked us with the desire to prey upon our flesh. Lethal retaliation is the code of monsters.

Flou1 morphs from ruby scarf to bunny-eared Fuzzy Slime as she shlorps away from me. “Hot, hot, hot!” Oh, I need to be careful of her when I use my Cinderwolf Rush.

With their attacks rendered useless, the five conjoined prickly pear Cactus sisters can do nothing but bite their lips and watch as we dispatch her allies. Dura goes striding toward her, club held high, but I growl an objection. “Stop. Let’s keep one alive for Alex.”

“Uh, why?” Dura asks.

I snort and shake my head as the powerful fire in my breast dies down. “So she can claim a mark from them.”

“Hmm.” The Ogress raises a skeptical eyebrow at me. “Carry this ‘n wit us?”

“I could lull her with song,” Lucinia suggests as she flutters down within speaking range. I suppose that might work.

“Just grab her on the way home,” Flou1 says.

Dura grunts assent, and so do I. The Fuzzy Slime has proven herself time and again a valuable and trusted ally. Her plan is sound. Alex chose well that day after battling the Twisted Apple Treefolk.

The prickly pear sisters quiver with fear as we approach, wisely ceasing her water spray and dropping the needles growing from her hands before raising their palms in surrender.

Dura, totally unconcerned, ignores them and grabs a chunk of the barrel Cactus man's innards. She takes a bite, chews, swallows, and drops the remainder of the chunk.

"Taste like shit."

I examine the prone form the Cacti were standing around. It's a purple-scaled male kobold. All the moisture is drained from his body, turning him into an instant mummy. On top of that, he’s become a pincushion.

Flou1 confirms, "Not the target."

Alex won’t like this. "Tell us everything you know about the Lizards and we'll let you live."

“L-lizards? What are you—ah!” Dura interrupts the prickly pair Cactus by biting off one of the fruits protruding from a panicky paddle-face. The message is clear; next time, Dura will take a bite from one of the conjoined sisters. They stutter in terror, the speaker changing between the sisters every other word, "T-t-t-he l-l-lizards? Y-yes! W-we remember! They came through yesterday. My friends and I were hungry and shot one of the little ones. Big ones fought us for him, but we got them to back off. My friends had some fun with him before the end, but we didn’t touch him, we swear! Only got a little meat-juice before they drained him dry!”

Now that I look closer, the needles on the poor Kobold are grouped around the groin and face—the telltale sign of sex acts with malicious Cacti. What a way to go… makes some of the stuff I saw in Kennel Hills seem tame by comparison. So, they wounded one of the Kobolds and raped him to death after chasing off his clan. They’re lucky their prey wasn’t one of Alex’s wives or else there’d be hell to pay.

No doubt they’re lying about some of it; I wouldn’t be surprised if she used the Kobold as well before eating him.

I snarl at them, “Where are the Lizards now?”

“How should I—ah!” They narrowly move one of the sister’s faces away from Dura’s jaws before they close. “O-O-Oasis! We overhead them talking about an Oasis deep in the desert!”

“Anything else we should know?”

“S-Sand G-Goblins, w-watch out for Sand Goblins in the desert. That’s all I know, I swear!”

Hmph. Is that all? “Dura here is an Ogress. We’ve got nothing to worry about.”

Dura snorts.

“As you say, Mistress.” The prickly pear Cactus sisters bow as we depart.

I’ve had a chance to cool down and Flou1 returns to her place on my neck. Dura hops aboard and Lucinia ascends to scout the horizon. “Don’t try to run. I’ll smell you from a mile away when we come back through here.”

Their last words are low, and would’ve been consumed by the desert winds if not for my sharp lupine sense of hearing, “If you return…”