The First Hellhound

“Can you feel the flow of Aura? Good; now pay attention” I follow Miro’s orders with anticipation and excitement; he’s going to show me some proper enchanting! We’ve spent past few hours talking about Nyx, my choker and other magical artefacts. I was asked even about numerous, tiny details, but didn’t get that much in return; sure, there were occasional titbits that I could wrap my head around, but, sadly, most of what the Foxman told me about magic, magical items and enchantments slipped right through my mind. It made me feel a bit stupid and inadequate. Thankfully, Pola’s brother noticed that and decided to show me what he means through practice.

At certain points, both my lovers left; Pola to check on her son and to take care of some task the Grand Council appointed her to perform – all I know is that it has something to do with magic – while Nugund was ordered by the Elders to find the missing search party – the one sent to find the Chieftain. While I won’t be seeing my Darling for a time, my Moonberry promised a meetup at dinnertime; Mira, Miro’s twin sister will come for us. Alas, for now me and the Lisithun are alone. However, as we are about to begin the enchanting, we are interrupted by someone entering the hut. I turn towards the them – and freeze in shock, disbelief and fear at what I see.

The best way I can describe the intruder is as a sleep paralysis demon; the tall but gaunt figure, looking borderline emaciated; unnervingly long, gaunt limbs and fingers with Human-like nails; uncanny, long head with giant, anime-like pale blue eyes, tiny nose, thin-lipped mouth filled with sharp teeth, stretching nearly from one long, pointy ear with a small bump above it to another and topped with the clearly magical tattoos in place of hair; only the smell, very faint and nearly completely masked by the scent of herbs, allows me to ground her in reality – so this is what I focus on.

I take a whiff – and I can now pretty surely identify the stranger as a woman. I also strain my eyes to see minuscule bumps on her chest; seriously, Chieftain Yuras has bigger manboobs than her! I take a quick glance to the side – even Miro is larger! I start feeling a tinge of pity towards the girl, and not only about her non-existent breasts; poor thing is all sinew, no muscle! And yet… for all her scrawniness, she doesn’t exactly look malnourished; her cheeks aren’t sunken and her skin – while pale – looks healthy and unblemished.

And to be honest, the longer I look at her, the more I notice how well-groomed she is… and her apparel. She wears a simple, sleeveless robe or gown in dark colour, girded by a belt in a style similar to the Chieftain’s – and clearly magical as well. There are pouches attached to it – the main source of the herbal smell. The whole thing is located pretty high on her – which makes my imagination run wild about the length of her legs, covered in her clothes, with only her sandal-clad feet with toenails painted black visible. Her fingernails are also painted – but there is a sheen to them; it appears to be magical, considering her forearms and hands – and feet too, now that I take a closer look – being covered in seemingly magical tattoos. She also has jewellery, exclusively from silver – but not that much of it, only simple armlets and anklets… except her pointy ears, heavy with rings, studs and chains. All of that – especially the herbs – allow me to identify her as a witch.

“Kora? Are you watching? You are awfully silent…!” Miro stops midway and starts sniffing, seemingly realising we are no longer alone. “Baba Volnika? Is that you? Hah!” To my shock he starts laughing, at least he seemingly knows the woman. “Why do you always creep so silently?”

“Because it’s more exciting that way – don’t you think?” She says… and immediately I am completely and utterly spellbound by her voice. I expected it to be haggard, squeaky and generally unpleasant; instead, it was husky, yet soft, deep – but feminine. And incredibly melodic – every syllable she utters is like a note. Just hearing it caused warmth to spread over my whole body, beginning from my nethers, nearly drowning the pain of my cramps. I wish… I desire to hear it praise me.

“More importantly – I came for you, Kora of the Wilds” I feel blush spreading on my face – with shivers of excitement going down along my spine – as the woman addresses me with a smile. “Baba Yaga wishes to see you.”

---

I walk out from the hut with the witch, who I realise is an Elf; the numerous unusual facial features, pointy ears and uncanny proportions seem to be the legacy of the Faekin, as I recall the Troll I spoke to in his Dream and the Wylderkin we are going to. I feel cold chills when I try to imagine how Fae would have looked like – especially when the old legends about fairies from my old world resurface in my memories; particularly how dangerous they can be.

But to be fair, the longer I look at the tall, gaunt woman the more used to her look I get. I can even say I start to find some of her features exotic, rather than frightening; my attraction – and lust – towards her grow steadily. And all of it is first and foremost due to her voice; when she speaks, it evokes in my mind a picture of molasses – their sweet mass enveloping me, seeping deep into the core of my being. It’s a voice I can get lost in time listening to… and I do!

“I’m truly glad you enjoy my company, Kora of the Wilds – but it would be nice if you were to respond

” I realise I’ve been caught and blush – this time out of embarrassment. That – along with my hastily spurted apology – bring an amused smile on Volnika’s face. “I can see why Pola of Clan Linar took such an interest in you” I tilt my head.

“Really? What do you mean?” The Elf stops suddenly and turns to me.

“Because” she whispers sensually into my ear, causing the shivers of excitement to travel down my back. “You are so honest… So easy to tease” as she talks to me, she moves her finger along my spine; only my cramps stop me from cumming here and now… fucking cramps!

“Alas, you are in no condition to have fun” she says, louder, stepping back. “Unless…”

“Unless?” I ask, but the Elf smiles mysteriously… and lasciviously.

“We do not need to hurry; she’s not on her deathbed…” Volnika says in a way more evocative of loud thinking, different than when addressing me; and she falls silent, thinking. After a moment of consideration, her wide smile returns, more mischievous and hungry, and she nods to herself. “Yes, Old Yaga can wait – even deserves that; we will stop by my tent, then!”

---

“Sooo… what now?” I ask, looking curiously around. We are in Elf’s place; it’s pretty big, but it makes sense, as the Faekin is tall – even taller than me! Similar to Baba Tika’s, there are various medicinal herbs here – albeit many are different; it – along with lots of other magical ingredients and magic trinkets – suggests to me a difference between the expertise of the two. Or methods. Or just their character. I don’t know enough witches to grasp the differences between them.

And I don’t know enough about my host, I realise. Despite the fact we were talking the entire way here, the topic was mostly people I got to know; the most I got out about the Elven Witch herself is that she is quite old. Not that she intentionally hid any information about herself from me… it’s just when she mentioned how Pola was as a kid, I couldn’t stop myself from flooding her with questions; I hope she doesn’t mind.

“Now, I will give you a tincture for your cramps… I just need to dilute it a bit. Then” she licks her barely existing lip suggestively. “You will know, Haramaza, you will know!”

I fidget in anticipation, despite not recognizing the name – or title – she called me; still, I feel a need to continue the talk. “What is Haramaza?”

“You should ask your Lisitha friend; she will be overjoyed… and here you are!” She passes me a large cup she just filled with pale green liquid smelling slightly of alcohol. “Drink all of it; usually a third or a half of that would be enough, but I’ve heard you are unusually resilient.”

I take the tincture and are about to drink it, but… I pause. If it is supposed to help me… why wasn’t it given to me earlier? “So… it will stop the cramps?”

“No” her answer is swift and surprising – but not for long. “It will dull your pain and ease your mind a little. There is nothing to heal here – after all you aren’t sick. However” this time she hesitates. “There will be consequences – but you should avoid the worst if you eat light meals, like soups, and rest the next day” I eye her suspiciously.

“You mean… I will be worse off tomorrow if I drink it?”

“To a degree – but you will get one more evening and night of passion for that” the Elf smiles lasciviously – which is still a bit frightening. “You won’t believe just how many women your stunt fascinated. They would like to bear your kids even if the Tribe’s situation wasn’t so dire” her smile falters and her demeanour changes, becoming more morose. “We have lost so many friends and family members – and we have yet to bury them… What’s worse, so many Clans are going to perish…”

“But why me?” I ask, interrupting her speech before it gets even more depressing. “Aren’t there men, or other blessed women in the Tribe? Why me specifically?” Baba Volnika smiles again… in a sad way.

“It’s so clear you’ve been living in the wilderness, never interacting with another person” her melodic voice conveys a flurry of emotions way better than her facial expressions or body language can; I hear sadness, pity, compassion, empathy, solicitude, sympathy, concern… It tears me up a bit, which sends the witch in a panic. “Kora!? Are you alright?”

“Yes” I say, wiping my face; I’m gonna blame the hormones. “I’m just moved by your voice… the emotions it conveys, I mean. It’s so beautiful” I say before realizing what I’m doing; to my surprise, my confession makes the Elven woman… blush.

“You flatter me” she says shyly, fidgeting; I find it fascinating and endearing how her ears that drooped when she was talking about the aftermath of the dragon attack have now moved up, matching her mood.

“You don’t get complemented very often?” I guess.

“No… not for my voice, at least” her expression becomes somewhat hard to read. “Beastkin usually praise my scent; not to mention all of them know me since their childhood” I open my mouth to inquire more, but she shakes her head. “Enough of that; I still haven’t answered your question, have I?” I close my mouth and shake my head. She sighs. “That’s because it’s extremely rare to find someone with such a powerful Aura as you; truly, only old Yuras can compare to you” her eyes become dreamy and her cheeks redden as she reminisces. “He gave me my first – and so far only – child when he joined the tribe over 50 years ago… and Malinka grew up to be a powerful witch in her own right!” She says beaming with pride.

“So, in other words: strength – or power – is considered attractive?” I interrupt her, trying to stay on topic; although I take a mental note to meet her daughter to check how her voice sound – she should also be an Elf and have longer lifespan. And she’s 50; I wonder how that compares to a Human or a Beastkin?

“Yes – although to a degree; you just don’t understand how much of an anomaly you are… but what’s even more important is how the Tribe’s survival is at stake” concern and sadness dominate her voice. “And you’re going to fight the Dragon – an extremely dangerous task. This… this might be the only chance to have a kid with you…”

The immediacy of the threat, clear in her voice spurns me to make a decision – and so I raise the cup and drink everything; the tincture is bitter and the taste of alcohol – while very thin – is still clearly there. It’s the first time I’ve ever drank such beverage and… I’m not impressed, to say the least; I hope most medicines aren’t based on spirits.

The Elven Witch smiles.