The drums beat...

The Savage remains standing with hands behind his back to the posturing alphas without the outward threat that they could bring to his hierarchy.

Pride for the Savage shuffles between bones and flesh from the Wild within the cocoon of skin.

Circular tension spindles around the Alphas shoulders.

The Savage grows within himself, consuming all the space of his body.

"You will bow before the Luna of the Far North, you will bow before the Luna of the World. The Far North is where you all have descended from." The Savage hones complete stillness. Nothing moves on his body of flesh.

Eyes raging and dangerous, malicious intent bristles forward from the closest Lunas. Thier Nature bristles within themselves. There is an elevation to the bounding beat of my heart.

Defiant chins lock up without a bend down.

Females of the Far North with paint on their bodies and braids throughout their hair take a step around the group of alphas and lunas, along with their healers.

They hold silver-tipped spears in their hands.

Orva is shoulder to shoulder with her greatest nemesis. The rest of the persecuted females are between stronger females, shoulder to shoulder. These females who have fought against each other are now standing as one body, in unison.

A female army of great consideration stands strong, eyes forward, without the shuffle of fear.

"What's the meaning of this?" An alpha asks.

"My Warriors are here to watch the bow of alphas to their Luna." When the Savage turns to look at me, his smile is sharp with a deadly point.

Spear bottoms hit the ground as one, their right foot stomps as one forward movement. Sound circulates around the noose that is forming around the group of visitors. Standing higher than everyone I can see it clearly.

A crow caws out with the approach of the healer, Morvared. Her blue eyes are of icy threat, mauling into the healers of the world. Her waist length hair is loose and as black as the raven cape she wears. There is a Male with his face painted as a Wild. So complete is the mimic of the artistry of illusion you would think a Wild's head holds the body of Skin. They walk shoulder to shoulder - the wind starts to rustle the leaves on the trees, there is a rush of sound at their approach.

It sounds as if Nature is clapping...

My old Luna's hands go into the sleeves of her Silk, it's the most expensive Silk she holds. It's made of gold thread and silk with gems carved into flowers. How does she carry the weight of it?

Only her eyes show...

I'm wearing my own Silk, without knives. My face is now uncovered - she looks at me like a common whore.

The bottom of my feet digs themselves into the platform I'm standing on. Pulling my shoulders back, a slide of teeth angles outward for all to see.

I can become a Savage of this land.

The bottom of the spears hit the ground again, another step is taken by the females who all stand like Warriors in the great army of Old.

Pictures of a female army line the walls of our ancient shrines in my birth pack. The paint is slowly flaking, peeling away over time. But it still takes your breath away to imagine what that would have looked like seeing a nation of Females standing against Alphas, Lunas, healers.

"Your fathers, your mothers, your healers have all bowed to the Lunas of the Far North just like you will and your children will and your children after them. This is how it is, how it always will be." The Savage tells these alphas of their past, present, and future.

The drums beat...

Males of the Far North step into the clearing, sage smoke billows from fires that come to life around the entire area. Great plumes of grey rise upward into the darkening night sky.

A whine of a small pup cries out, raising the hairs on my arms. The visiting leaders all look around, shuffling their feet, turning their heads in the direction they think the noise comes from. The sound rolls around the entire surface of the clearing, it can't be pinpointed.

"Be gone, Wulf." The Singer of the Moon speaks into the night before he drinks something down then sprays it out of his mouth like mist into the darkness of the treeline. The whines turn into grotesque snarling causing an unease within the gathered group.

Another spray from the Singer of the Moon's mouth and the sound slinks away until nothing but the sound of Nature is heard.

More foot stomps from the female Warriors, a dance of sound vibrates War to touch the feet of these wolves.

I am witnessing the Old Ways...

The ancient pictures are coming to life, the sound of them coming to life, fiercer than anything I've ever seen before.

Males of the pack are always the teeth, but right now, at this moment these Females are the Terror of a pack...

The drums beat faster...the feet stomp faster, harder - teeth slide out...the points of the spears are pointed at the visitors before the ends go back to pounding the ground.

Females, shoulder to shoulder...

The drums are frenzied, the unison of the Females War dance is what those stories in ancient writings are about. I used to think it was all made up, a female army is a myth.

There is no myth about them.

Flesh and bone...

This is what my old alpha wanted...this is what he coveted for my Luna price.

How do you ever pay enough gold to replace this?

"Bow to your Luna, and we will begin our feast of Celebration." The Savage's voice rumbles throughout, his posture is relaxed.

"I will not bow-" The head comes off the body with the mouth still ready to finish the sentence.

"That's alright," the Savage looks into the dimming eyes of the alpha's head he's holding, "you can fall at her feet." He tosses the head to my toes, his body crumbles and sprays blood out as the luna falls and twists over the body of her mate.

The Nature within understands that in this place the Savage is the One.

Alpha...

The Savage's mother comes up behind the luna and takes her throat of life, the ivory handle is gripped tight in her hand, dripping blood.

Morvared moves taking a spear from one of the female Warriors and touches the healer that is looking on in disbelief. A pinpoint poke to draw the slightest bead of blood on her right cheek.

Morvared smiles sharply and waits.

The Singer of the Moon sways and chants, the bones on his staff rattle and shake. The illusion of the painted Wild on his head raises my neck hair up. He begins to chant to the drums and the air starts to swirl as if he can command Nature itself.

The healers whose cheek was touched by the spear point drops to the ground convulsing with foaming spit at the corners of her mouth. Her bladder releases and the bones in her spine rises up while her shoulders stay on the ground. Her face distorts in the sheer magnitude pain can bring to a body.

Her jaw locksthe screams come out muffled.

Seizures overtake her body now, her mouth bleeding because she has just bitten the tip of her tongue off. Bowels release, and still the violence of the seizures grow. Bones start to snap as muscles contract inwardly with an unloosening tension.

Morvared takes the spear point, pressing it to the healer's throat of life. With one downward thrust, she ends her pain quickly.

I'm in disbelief of what I have just witnessed.

"You will either bow or fall, make your decision." The Savage's voice is controlled as if he is talking to friends.

The drums beat, the feet of the female Warriors stomp, the heads of the leaders bow to me.

"Before we begin, I have homage to pay to the alpha of the Dunes. You can't have the Warriors that you need to take the land you want but I will give you the Warriors weight in gold." The males of the Far North now walk past the female line, carrying wooden crates that have bars of gold in it, placing it at the feet of my old alpha.

His eyes and those around him grow big. But some of the alphas watch my old alpha, carefully.

The Savage comes back to stand shoulder to shoulder with me on the elevated platform as the heads of the world bow to me.

Pride within him, within me, makes our spines straighter.

"Enjoy your feast." The Alpha, my Savage smiles kindly out. Taking my hand, he turns from the crowd to lead me away from the group.

Once out of hearing range, I stop our progress forward.

"How did you know they would bow to you without a fight?" There is a small disbelief of what I just saw.

The Old Ways, the Warriors of the Moon's army.

"Bessa, they never bowed to me, they bowed to you. Their Luna. I'm not their Luna. I never asked them to bow to me, as their Alpha." He doesn't move forward because I'm not ready to move yet.

"Why even make them bow to me?" Curious.

"You were always meant to be bowed to." His voice drops lower, the beat of his heart pulls closer, while my ribs pull inward, protecting me from him.

A ripple of flesh as he touches my cheek with his.

"The world will always bow to the Luna of the Far North. They will always understand that you are the One true Luna."

"I wish you would have remembered who your Luna was before you let a fake one take my place inside you."

The drums beat...

"I wish I would have too." He meets my eyes, holding them solidly as his words are gently spoken out.

My ribs pull in for the protection I need against him.

Taking my hand he begins to lead where the stench of sage is so pungent that it coats my skin in a thick layer of dust.

"Why did you give my old alpha all that gold now?" Looking at the Savage who is inspecting a shelter made of stone and mud. A roof of grass covers the top, steam rushes out as the entrance is open.

The only light is a dim coal fire in the center. The air inside holds moisture that once inside presses against the Silk of my Lineage to soak it through within minutes.

It's hard to breathe in the wall of heat.

"I gave him the gold to pay for you. It's not what he wants but it's what he gets. Also, it shows the alphas of his surrounding pack what he now stores within his pack." The Savage's lip holds upward for a moment.

"It's time to start our preparation, Bessa." The darkness within this hut is not absolute - the faintest of embers has his face in shadows but not hidden.

A hiss of steam scalds out as the rocks by the fire are touched with water.

"What do I have to do?" There is a shake to my hands that can't be hidden as he hands me a cup.

"You need to drink this."

Smelling it, "what is it?"

"It's to make you relaxed, less nervous." He takes a small sip from a glass he now has in his hands.

Drinking it down the bitter liquid coats my tongue and dries out my mouth.

"It tastes horrible." Scrunching my nose up.

"It does," the Savage takes another small sip, but there still is liquid in his cup, mine is finished. More water is put on rocks to the point everything holds the mist of water.

A small tremor sways the ground, my balance is off.

"Let's sit down, Bessa." The ground holds furs that are damp in the humidity inside here but feel cool against my feet.

The drums beat, but the sound starts to become muffled inside this place.

The embers of the fire glow red, pulse with its life. It's compelling to sit still to watch the way the coals turn black around the edges and orange-red within the middle.

A deep breath out...

Shoulders relaxing, spine slumping.

"I've made you something, Bessa." His voice is closer now, the beat of his heart is a brilliant rhythm that my ears are trained on instead of the constant sound of the drums.

The hem of Silk that is covering my feet is lifted up, exposing my ankle.

What did you make me? The vocabulary of my mind stutters itself, but can't slide out into sound.

A tongue that feels numb tries to sound out the words I want to say, "what-" it's the only thing that can be pronounced.

"These are to go around your ankles and wrists." He takes my ankle in his hand.

Skin against skin.

Closing my eyes, I throw my head back and breathe.

When I move my ankle bells chime in the air, along with the hiss of water vaporizing against stone.

"Pretty," the sound comes out light, airy.

He takes my other ankle in his hand, lips press against the inner aspect of my ankle before he secures the other bracelet around it.

My shoulders sway from one side to the other.

"I feel so calm." Saying it while he sits cross-legged in front of me, palms touching palms.

Our fingers entwine...

Breathing getting heavier, my sex getting warmer.

Our foreheads touch.

"I feel calm too, Bessa." His lips press into the hollow of my neck, a tongue tasting the sweat that is beading out.

A nudge of cheek to mine.

His lips press into mine with his tongue that still holds the salt from my skin on it.

The taste of the Ocean is held on his skin when I trace his collarbone with my tongue.

He moans out.

A tide rushes through in great waves of desire for the Male in front of me.

My body is growing warmer. I can feel a hunger within growing for him, for what's between his legs. The loincloth he wears bulges away from his body. Nothing but a soft piece of fabric is covering what I have my greedy eyes on.

Claws comb through my hair, light and gentle.

Over and over they start from crown to shoulders repeating constantly.

"Your Silk needs to come off now Bessa." He pulls me up to a standing position, the bells chime inside casing on the bracelets. His head is slightly bent inside this hut. He can't stand to his full height.

He bends down, grasping the hem of my Silk he lifts it past my ankles, past my calves.

His breathing is growing harsher, faster.

Higher he lifts the damp material off my body.

I tremble when his eyes touch the flesh of my inner thighs.

The darkness of shadows slides along the walls of this hut.

Hipbones are exposed.

A shudder of my body as if I'm cold but I am burning up.

Liquid heat traces against the bare exposed flesh of my body.

My hands are trembling while the Silk is lifting higher up, past my rib cage to expose the stain of my nipples to him.

His eyes lock and feed on everything that is being uncovered.

Feasting sight slides against the bareness of me.

A gasp from him when Silk no longer covers what I've been hiding.

I'm not nervous, I'm not ashamed of what he is looking at.

He sways, to the point of taking a step backward.

His finger curls into my waist just above my hipbone, steadying himself.

"Bessa," his chest heaves.

Fingers touch bare skin...

Closer he stands, I can feel his breath hitting my neck, my breast, the stain of my nipples.

I gasp out, my body bends forward with the sensation.

A pressure on my shoulder as he traces my collarbone from one end to the other. His other hand, the fingers curl into my waist pulling me against his body.

His fingers go to the tie of his loincloth, pulling it down the fabric slides along his body to lay at our feet.

I take a breath in, not releasing it yet, holding it inside me...

I'm standing here bare to him as he is bare to me.

We sway...

Lifting my chin when he touches my neck, the spot his mark will go, the spot his teeth will sink into my flesh.

I can almost cum thinking of it, I let out a moan when his fingers trace down the sternum of my chest

My desire wafts upward.

A pulsing need growing within.

A whimper from my throat with the sensation, it's too much at times. My fingers curl into his shoulder, steadying myself against the sway of the world.

My bare skin is sucking in the heat of his skin into the marrow of my bones.

Liquid leaks from my apex, the pressure to keep my legs squeezed shut acts as a friction that pulses the inside of my sex.

Squeezing, relaxing, squeezing relaxing my muscles driving me crazy with need for something more.

My heart is now beating so hard, so fast.

A warm palm of his hand is all over me, feeling the top of my neck to the bottom of my spine.

My waist is held tight by his other hand, fingers curling more into the flesh that cushions my hipbone. It hurts slightly the way he squeezes my flesh, hard, firm, without restraint.

I'm frozen on the outside, but pulsing unbearably on the inside.

The sound of his Wild vibrates into my chest, trailing downward into my sex.

My thighs open on their own.

I'm soaking wet now.

He takes a step back, just looking at me.

Mouth half open, tongue wetting his lips.

He looks to be without basic control, the same way I feel.

My bodies control is without control.

Closing my eyes, letting the world turn itself as I stand still.

I'm leaned back, my spine hitting the cool wet furs while the suffocating wall of steam encases everything else.

More water is thrown on the hot rocks, hissing steam coats our naked flesh.

His teeth are out, his eyes in the embers of the fire look black, without the color they usually hold.

I don't move and just close my eyes with trying to breathe properly through the steam.

Startling, my muscle jump awake.

A shine of sweat glistens against my skin, his fingers are pushing my hair away from my face.

"Bessa, wake up." So calm his voice is against my ear.

"Was I dreaming?"

"Maybe." His words come over the top of me, my head cradled in his lap.

"It's time for more tea, Bessa." He hands me a new cup different from the last.

"What this?" My mouth is working much better. "This is something more powerful than the first tea. It will relax you but it will also take your mind away."

Holding the cup to my lips the water shakes inside.

When it's swallowed, the need to gag it back up is overwhelming.

Eyes water and strings of saliva come out of an open mouth that's trying hard to take in the sage-scented air.

"Stick out your tongue."

"Why?"

"I'm going to give you a few drops of thistle, it's going to clean us out." He places three drops on his tongue, then he places three drops on mine.

The fire has been built up, no longer embers deep in a fire pit.

The drums beat, my body sways once again as the warmth infects my structure, even my stomach feels warm but fluttery almost as if it's jitter with what it drank.

My eyes close because the colors of the flames are alive with movement. The peripheral of my vision shifts and moves as if something is alive on the walls of the hut.

Crawling creatures with glowing eyes make me scream into the shoulder of the Savage. He holds me and coos out, running his fingers through my hair again.

"Something is here with us." Whispering in his ear, telling him what my closed eyes see.

"Nothing is with us, Bessa. It's just us." He sounds sure of this, its hard to believe him when I see faces twist in the smoke of the fire.

"I'm scared," cling to him, shaking in fear.

"I'm here." I can't close enough to him, wrapping myself around him, holding him as close as I can.

Shaking

Trembling

Crying

"Something is here." A wickedness seems to lurk within these walls.

Cramps start low in my abdomen and I can't help the groan that starts, holding myself, rocking myself against him

I'm carried in his arms, outside, the air is welcomed now.

Water, cold water comes up to my neck, I can't seem to open my eyes, will he let me drown?

Its then my bowels release, expelling the contest of my intestines.

There is no comfort until everything is out of my body, all waste is released and I'm moved further upstream. It's hard to keep my eyes open because everything is alive, the trees seem to be talking to one another, the birds are mocking me in their language.

Trying to hold my ears to block out the sound, the Savage keeps reassuring me.

"Bessa, it's alright. It's just the tea."

Something hot covers my skin, making me smell of burned hair.

"My skins on fire." Telling the Savage, holding his face now in my hands, I can't see his eyes...

I can't see his eyes...

Everything is morphing moving too fast...but not moving at all.

His face is not his, it's something else before sliding into the face of my father, to my mother, brother.

I squeeze my eyes shut, but they are already closed.

I'm carried again, feet off the ground and I cling myself to my mate, trying to press as much of myself into him as I can.

I need protection from something I can't see.

The Nature around us is alive, a pulse of voices that I can't make out all I know is whatever it is she doesn't like me...there are growls that lick at the back of my neck.

"Borson who is here with us?" Saying loud, he tries to lay me on the ground but I cling to his neck, refusing part from his touch.

"Nothing is here, Bessa. It's just you and me."

"Make this stop, please." Echoes, deep echoes of sound carry my voice all over the place.

"Morvared come here." The Savage is direct with a command that halts my terror.

Feet shuffle in.

Opening my eyes a crows head is looking at me with beady eyes. When the beak opens up, so does the healer's sound and I jump into the neck of the Savage.

"She's hallucinating, nothing more." A cawing voice is sharply pitched out.

"She's a crow, she's a crow." Saying it over and over again until something is pressed against my lips and I swallow down the fire.

Even with my eyes closed, I can see, I can see lines of white worms squirming against the darkness.

Startling awake because someone now is touching me.

I can feel something being drawn on my ankles.

Opening my eyes the Singer of the Moon with the Wild drawn on his face stares into my eyes.

"Bessa, it's my job to paint you." I look at myself my nakedness is bare for his eyes.

Covering myself up, he shakes his head.

"Bessa, there is no need to cover yourself in front of me. I am only concentrating on the pictures I'm painting." Slow strokes of his hand make vines come to life on my ankles.

They remind me of shackles of Nature, the bracelets get in his way.

Noticing my body already holds a few paintings on it, stains so vibrant that they appear to have soaked into the layers of my skin.

"How do you know which ones to start with?"

"I'm doing them in the order that Borson had them put on his body."

"How do you remember it all?"

"It's my job to remember." Another stroke of his hand and leaves start to come out from the steams.

The feeling of paranoia of fear has left completely.

A soothing, relaxed feeling is back.

"Where is he?"

"Who?"

"My mate." Keeping my eyes closed.

"He's preparing himself."

"Oh," sounding a little disappointed that he left me.

"What made you so scared, Bessa. What did you see?" The Singer of the Moon keeps painting.

"I saw things, the healer is a crow."

"That I already know, tell me what else you've seen."

"Nature is alive, it's evil," whispering afraid the crows that are gathering can hear me.

"Tell me more," he starts on my other ankle wrapping the vines around with thick leaves, shackling my ankles in pictures.

"I felt things looking at me,"

"Why do you think they were looking at you?"

"I don't know why?"

"Then I was blind, but still was able to see."

"That's something I will need to think on."

A pause of speech from him, his eyes are honing on my thigh a picture coming to life, an animal I have no idea what it is but its teeth are sharp when this painter showcases the War of teeth snarling out.

"How old was he when he killed that,"

"He was twenty."

More pictures painted, more questions asked as the older he gets. The animals are becoming fiercer, no more pictures of frogs, snakes, or mice. Nothing that eats plants. These pictures hold teeth, claws, and death to one who is not powerful enough to kill them.

His paint touches the side of my body where the Savage cut the tree from. The Singer of the Moon hesitates, before moving to turn on my stomach.

"What are you drawing on my back,"

"The bear paw." My ribs pull inward.

"Draw his tree first."

"I don't think he wants that on your body."

"He put that tree on his body, now put it on mine." My face presses into the Singer of the Moon's face, holding his eyes...

The paint he uses is cold against my ribs, tickling in spots and a tree full of life is drawn with the utmost precision.

Thier love comes to life with the skill of the artist.

Once done, I'm moving on my side as the claw of the bear is started.

Tears slide down my eyes as more pictures of his bravery are drawn, picturing him throwing everything at her feet, what they must have done after in celebration.

My mind is seeing pictures of them, laughing celebrating with the pack. Touching themselves when they are alone. Nothing is left except this for me, nothing but the fucking like a breeding whore in front of the world is left for me.

"He loves you..."A trickle of a female voice caresses the channel of my ear.

Looking around seeing if anyone else is here with us.

"Did you hear something?" Asking the Singer of the Moon who shakes his head no.

More and more tattoos are painted with the fiercest of animals until he tries to put the paints away.

"Aren't you missing one?" His hands touch the paintbrush lifting it up in his hand.

"Was this the last tattoo he got?" Turning my neck to him so he can put the color of her eyes on my neck where his mark will go.

"Yes, it was the very last tattoo he got," My ribcage pulls in so tight I get dizzy with the loss of air.

"Make sure you make it stand out from all the others," teeth grate against teeth. While the scent of salt trails out of my eyes.

A flower is drawn and I wish I had a mirror to see what it looks like on my neck.

When we are finished females come to me, rubbing my body full of oil, my hair is braided and I refuse to have his beads put in my hair.

"Drink this," I'm handed one more cup, and I drink it down gladly.

His mother is here, her finger touches my neck - she doesn't say a word.

The drums beat.

Tilting of the world violently stumbles me in a laying down position.

The drums beat.

Feet stomp the ground.

The drums beat.

I'm pulled into a standing position.

I stumble, fall into the ground.

The world shakes...

I can't keep my footing.

A swaying sea rocks my motion.

Drums beat.

Smoke veils the surrounds.

The Savage's eyes, it's all I can see.

Pain...

Tearing...

Blood...

The swaying of the sea takes me away, the wooden boards groan reminding me of my voice.

*

*

*

Holding still, it takes a second to realize that I'm on a bed and not lost at sea as my dream is still fresh in my mind.

Something is rubbing against my sore neck.

The smell of blood and cum is strong.

My cheek is on fire.

Opening my eyes, the Savage has a soapy cloth to my throat trying to rub off the stain on my skin.

Did he wash his flower off?

His hand pulls away from my marked neck.

Our eyes meet, hold.

There is no more beat of the drums.

Silence...

Author's Note.

A snippet of the upcoming book. Elska.

"Elska, come sit with us." My father's voice is low, in a sitting position.

"Why?" Hearing his breath hold.

"I can still hear the beat of your heart even if you hold your breath." He exhales, my father clears his throat.

"I was asking Shamus some questions and he was asking me some questions. There was one I didn't know the answer to. Come over here and sit by your father." A tap of his foot centers the distance between us. Walking toes first, making sure nothing is in my way to get to my father's spot.

Hands out, feeling for the cushions of the couch. Fingers entwine with mine. "Here, sit between us, Elska." His voice is closer than I thought he was. The heat of him sizzles into bones. Trying to pull my hand away, my father holds our hands together.

"Elska, breathe." My father is calm. Why can't I be when I'm so close to him.

"I can't. It hurts too much."

"It's supposed to hurt at first. It will get easier the more you're touched by your mate." The fire trails up nerve ending. Hot, without a real burn. It's shocking, the flames dance, lick at the inside of my skin.

"Shamus, does it hurt you to touch Elska?"

"Yes, I can feel her touch so deep that I think my bones might break."

"Do you feel as if your bones will break, Elska." My father's voice is a gentle sway, within the storm of him.

"Yes, I feel that I can break." Pulling my hand away from his.

"I won't break you, Elska."