The Werewolf Order (Erotica)

All eyes immediately turn to her. It takes her a moment to process what just happened. She looks over to Rainer, his expression defaulted to a smooth blank face; when she turns her gaze to Quell she sees that he is just as surprised as her, starting at Rainer in shock before glancing directly to Coral.

“Coral,” the Governor says softly, drawing her attention to him. Suddenly remembering what she is supposed to do she rises to her feet, carefully picking her way through the women to the aisle. She pauses briefly, catching Piers’ distraught gaze, before she continues down the line past the Governor. Stopping before Rainer she looks him right in the eye defiantly, dropping into a curtsey. Then, she stands next to the inconsolable Margaret, shedding no tears of her own.

The Governor can see his son shifting angrily so he quickly finishes up the ceremony, “We thank these three villagers for their sacrifice so that we may continue to thrive in a peaceful country. Their families may come up now to say their goodbyes and accompany them home to pack their things. The rest of you may return to the town and prepare for the feast tonight.”

The villagers get up, almost all thankful that neither they nor none of their family were chosen for the Atonement. Margaret’s mother immediately comes running over to her, gathering up her wailing daughter in her arms. Cecil’s son approaches his father, wrapping the man in a hug.

Coral, still stunned by the sudden derailment of her life, is left staring at Piers. He slowly walks to her, his face clearly upset. He makes no move to comfort her, having never done so before in his life; instead he offers a nod and grumbles, “We should pack some things for your journey.”

Several feet away, she can hear the ending of a heated argument between the Governor and his son. All of the centaurs are watching it, their keen ears having heard it in detail. Coral catches a snippet of Tobias’s rage, “… she was to be mine! You cannot let those beasts take what is rightfully mine!”

“Quiet your tongue, boy,” the Governor whispers sharply, “She is just a girl. There are more and there will always be more. They have chosen to take her and like it or not there is nothing you nor I can do about it, so you would do best to simply forget her and move on with your life.”

Tobias tries to push past his father; it is unclear whether he means to approach Coral or fight the centaurs, but the Governor spins him on his heels and shoves him off in the direction of town, motioning to two of his officials to take him back and keep him there. Though he rips his arms free of the men, he shoots a burning glare towards the centaurs before stomping off.

The Governor rubs his face exasperatedly, turning back to the centaurs.

“Is there a problem, Governor?” Rainer asks, a frown etched onto his dark face.

“No, Sir Rainer, just the rantings of a boy in love. I apologize for his behavior,” the Governor says, pressing his hand to his heart.

“I wasn’t aware that he had laid a claim to the young woman,” Rainer says, glancing at Coral.

“He has not, Sir. It was his intention to do so at the Celebration tomorrow. She is unclaimed,” he reiterates, also looking at Coral.

Rainer nods, “I see,” turning to the centaurs he gives them orders, starting with the bookkeeper “Elex, you will accompany Ms. Elwood as she retrieves her things. Quell, you will assist Mr. Evergreen. Reid, Ms. Blackthorn.”

The thicker stallion nods his head, waiting for Piers and Coral to start their last walk towards home. He trails a few feet behind them to allow some privacy, though neither bothers talking. Since the meadow is on the outskirts of town it doesn’t take them long to arrive at their cabin.

“I will wait out here,” Reid says to Coral, “we do not have all evening but you do not need to rush your farewells. Pack what you wish, the rest will be provided for you.”

Coral nods, following Piers into the house for the last time. She stands there looking around, as he shuts the door and begins to hurriedly pack up the medicine case for the journey. He grumbles in a low voice, keeping it quiet so that the centaur won’t hear him.

“I was a fool to bring you with me to fix that colt’s leg. I should have seen this coming a mile away-of course they would choose you, with your knowledge of healing and animals. I should have made you stay home.”

“This isn’t your fault, Piers,” she says. “I mean they chose Margaret, and she doesn’t know the difference between a goat and a ram.”

Piers stops and looks at her, his face slowly draining of color, “I heard one of the men say they have been choosing at least one maiden from each town. They must be in need of… breeding stock,” his jaw clenches.

“That is just a myth,” she says, trying to assure herself as much.

“Bullshit, have you ever seen a female centaur? How do you think they make more? Oh, heavens above,” his hands start to tremble with rage as he crams more medicines into the case. Barely managing to shut and latch it, he stands with his head hung low. Before Coral can say anything he walks to the workbench and grabs a sturdy blade almost a foot long, its sheath attached to a short belt. It is the blade that he commonly wears over his boot when he is out in the forest. He motions for her to sit down then he grabs her right leg and unlaces her boot, buckling the blade against wool sock on the inside of her leg before pulling her boot back over it. His voice is barely a whisper, “You know how to take a horse down, I imagine they are no different. Do what you must to get out of their camp tonight and hide in the woods, down by the stream. You can survive out there, I have taught you as much. Wait a week, maybe two and make your way over towards the mountains, two towns over. Once you are there pick a new name, get a job as a maid and send word for me. I have friends there, I can make arrangements for you to start a new life.” He is frantic, his hands shaking so badly that he can’t lace her boot up.

Coral reaches down and places her hands on his to steady them; she wraps her fingers around them, bringing up a soft hand to his face when he looks at her.

“I want to thank you for taking me in Piers and caring for me all of these years. You have taught me so much and I will forever be in your debt. I know how to take care of myself-I am not afraid. I will not run from them; there is no reason to risk retaliation on everyone for just one person,” she dries the tears that fall from his eyes; it is the first time she has ever seen him cry, “This is not your fault. I cannot be anyone other than who I am and if that means helping an injured creature, then I would never say no, you know that. I am sure that is why they chose me. And, if they chose me as,” the words get caught in her throat, “breeding stock, then I will deal with that too. You need to make sure you take care of yourself now that I won’t be around to do it for you. Take in one of the Petersen boys, they are poor and I know their family would be happy for one less mouth to feed. Teach him what you have taught me so that you can pass your knowledge on.”

Piers, shaking, pulls her into a deep hug, holding her tight. He smoothes her hair while whispering softly, “All right, Coral. You remember the mushrooms we use on animals when we have to perform a procedure and cut them open?”

She knows the exact mushroom he speaks of; they crush it into a paste and spread it on the livestock’s tongue. It seems to put them in a trance; they are awake, but don’t seem to feel anything-they just simply stand there and watch. She nods against his shoulder.

“If… when… the time comes, you put one of them in your mouth. Chew on it and hold it between your cheek and gums; it will numb your mind and your body, then you won’t have to suffer as much. There should be no pain,” he tries not to sob into her shoulder.Exclusive © content by N(ô)ve/l/Drama.Org.

She squeezes him tight, “All right, Piers, I promise I will use it.”

Coral packs her clothes, though she doesn’t have more than a few changes anyways, as well as a second pair of high boots that she wears after it rains. She doesn’t have anything else to bring with her, save a small box of things from her childhood. Inside of it, a wooden horse that her dad carved for her, a handkerchief that her mom embroidered with her initials and two lockets of her parents hair, a bright red curl from her dad and a shiny brown tuft from her mom.

Piers walks her outside, lugging the medicine case awkwardly, having packed it fuller than it has ever been. Before she can take it from him Reid slowly approaches, “I will carry that for you, maiden.”

Coral watches him easily pluck the case from Piers. She slings her own bag over her shoulder; standing before Piers, he reaches out and gives her a final hug farewell before abruptly turning and shutting himself in the house. She stands there for a moment, memorizing everything she can of the place she called home for most of her life.

“It is time,” Reid says, turning and leading her back to the encampment. She follows him without objection, her head down and eyes watching his brown back legs as his hooves rhythmically rise and fall on the compact dirt. She already feels like her life was just a distant dream before now and that she just woke up to the crushing oppression of reality. Her heart aches for the way things were, though she always had a hard time believing in a future life in this small town. She has never truly belonged anywhere, always being treated like an outlander, similar to the way the men treat the centaurs. Coral can’t imagine she will feel any less out of place amongst them than she has her entire life.