The Werewolf Order (Erotica)

Rainer stops before the group, pointing towards the grey steed, “All right healer, your expertise is required.”

Coral sets the case down, walking towards the boy, leaning over to look at his back hoof. Making a face, the young centaur watches her.

“You let this maiden do your work for you, healer?” Rainer’s voice echoes with disapproval.

Piers looks from Coral, back to Rainer, suddenly feeling out of sorts around the halflings, “She’s ah… better with horses?” When Rainer raises a brow, he continues, “And with people too, honestly. I mean no disrespect, but I generally don’t deal with creatures who can talk to me.”

Coral stands up, looking to see Rainer’s slightly angered face. She offers a smile, “You’ll have to excuse Mr. Piers, good sir. I’m afraid in his aging years he has lost what little propriety he had to begin with. I assure you, I will do whatever I can.”

The anger disappears from the centaur’s face, defaulting back to a frown, “All right, young lass.”

Coral nods, turning back to the grey centaur. She reaches out to touch his hindquarters, before stopping herself short and pulling back her hand slightly. As it occurs to her, she turns towards the boy, “May I… touch you?”

Eyeing her for a moment, he finally nods in agreement.

Coral reaches out her hand again, her fingers making contact with the soft, grey fur. As she runs her hand along his hind quarters and down the front of his back leg, she is relieved that his body feels just like a horse. She reaches her other hand out, crouching down to the ground so that she can feel his cannon. He winces slightly at her pressure, but she has a firm grip on his leg and he isn’t able to pull it away from her. Thinking she knows what it is, she feels all the way down the length, forcing him to lift his leg so that she can check his hoof as well.

The four centaurs watch her with odd looks on their faces; she stands, resting her hand on his back, petting him softly before remembering that he is a centaur and embarrassedly removing her hand.

“I believe you have a very fine break in the bone of your cannon. With time, it will heal on its own but you shouldn’t do much travel. Most definitely no running, or it could break all the way through,” she says gently to the boy.

“Rest will not be possible,” Rainer says, “we leave for Centuarna after the Atonement tomorrow. It is a full day’s walk.”

Coral frowns, concerned, “Can he… ride in a cart?” she asks.

The boy stamps his front foot, snorting, “I will not ride in a cart like some filly.”

Looking from the boy to Rainer, and the other centaurs, she can see that none override his decision. A hairline break in a horse isn’t life threatening, but a horse can be stalled and denied excessive movement until it heals. A centaur, well, has a mind of his own.

“All right, my apologizes, sir,” Coral says to the boy. “I can apply a poultice to help the bone heal faster, and I want to wrap that leg. If you go easy, a day’s walk shouldn’t do any permanent damage, but you must promise me that you will not run. There is a chance that running would break it completely and at that point-” she stops herself short. At that point, a horse would be put down. She knows they are intelligent creatures, but she can’t imagine that there is much that could be done for a three legged centaur, “you run the risk of being permanently lame.”

“Promise you?” The boy huffs out a laugh.

Rainer stamps his back foot, cutting the boy off. The seriousness on his face causes the boy to clear his throat and concede, “Yes, maiden, I promise I will not run until it is healed.”

Coral opens the medicine chest, looking through a few bottles before grabbing one containing crushed comfrey leaves. She empties it into a wooden bowl, mixing it with water into a thick paste. Grabbing a roll of muslin, she crouches back down beside the centaur. Coral scoops the paste up in her hands, rubbing it firmly into the centaur’s cannon, massaging as much of it into the muscle as possible. Movement from the corner of her eye catches her attention and she glances over to see his thick, fuzzy gray cock twitch. Tearing her eyes away, she feels her face burning red. She takes deep breaths to try to calm herself, mortified that she blatantly looked at his sex organ. She has seen the cocks of the horses in the stable and has watched them grow when they approach a mare in heat, but none of them were attached to half of a man. She wraps the leg with the muslin, tying the loose ends into a knot; only when she is satisfied that it is secure, does she wipe her hands on the hem of her dress.

“Well, if that is all you require of us, master centaur,” Piers gruffly says, turning to leave. Rainer nods, walking with him towards the entrance to the camp.

Getting up, Coral sets the bowl down next to the case, looking through several labeled boxes to find the one she wants. Pulling out a few leaves, she puts them into a brown paper envelope, filling a second with dried comfrey before rising.

Coral hands the envelopes to the young steed, “This will help with the pain,” when he makes a face, she can’t help but roll her eyes at him, “if you aren’t too stubborn to admit that you have any. Steep one leaf in hot water for several minutes, then drink. No more than three times a day. Mix the powder with enough water to make a paste and reapply it as needed.”

He nods to her and begins to walk way; pausing, he bows slightly to her, “Thank you, maiden.”

Coral smiles in reply, turning back to her case. Crouching down again, she rinses out the bowl, wiping it clean with the bottom of her dress before carefully packing it back up. When she latches the case closed, she sees a pair of white hooves stop in front of her. Looking up the light golden fur, across the tanned chest and into a pair of deep blue eyes, she sees the palomino centaur looking down at her. He reaches out and grasps the handle of her case.

“Let me help you with this,” he says softly.

“That isn’t necessary, sir,” she says, standing as he lifts her case up, “I don’t want to bother you.”

“It is no bother,” he replies, turning to walk along side her.

Awkwardly, she nods, walking next to the centaur. Though she is tall for a maiden, he stands several inches taller still.

“You… seem to know what you are doing. We don’t encounter healers much in the outlands, and none that are so willing to aid a centaur. I could even sense your father’s aversion to the situation,” he speaks quietly, but she can hear him clearly.

“He’s not my father,” Coral replies. “People around here are still licking their wounds. You cannot expect much from them, they see all of you as conquerors. It makes them fear you.”

“And what of you, young maiden? Do you fear us too?” He stops a distance away from where Piers and Rainer converse near the entrance. He turns to look down upon Coral.

She buckles under his piercing gaze, averting hers to glance around the camp, “Many wrongs were done because of the Battle. I was only three years, but I had my father taken away, only to leave my mother to die shortly after. But, as you say,” she looks back up at him, “I am a healer. I have no wounds to lick. When I feel like I might harbor hate towards your kind, I ask myself, how many fathers did you lose? How many young were orphaned? People seem to forget that the centaurs lost too; no matter which side claims victory, the price will always be too great.” She reaches out and takes the case from him, their hands brushing against each other for a moment. Embarrassed, she nods in farewell, “So no, master centaur, I don’t fear you anymore than a man with only two legs.”

He bows slightly in farewell, Coral taking her leave to rejoin Piers.

…

After supper, several of the young men and women gather at the tavern on the edge of town to share a pint and talk about the upcoming Celebration. It is the only approved way for them to get to know one another in a social setting, monitored on occasion by the old bartender and his wife, who make sure that nothing unsavory happens. They sit at a table, in the sheltered awning behind the tavern, warmed by a roaring fire in the open pit, providing the only light. Coral usually doesn’t attend, but she felt restless at home with Piers and he gave her permission to take leave.Content protected by Nôv/el(D)rama.Org.

She slowly drinks her sweet mead; she doesn’t have the stomach for the ale that the others do and alcohol affects her greatly so she tries to take care to pace herself, occasionally taking a bite of bread to quiet her stomach. The warmth flows through her veins, finally calming her loud thoughts.

That is, until one of the girls says loudly, “I heard that you went into their encampment today, Coral, to help one of the injured beasts. Weren’t you terrified? I’m surprised you made it out of there in once piece.”

“I can’t imagine,” adds another girl, “those creatures are so savage. They probably would have mounted you if they had the chance!”

Several of them laugh rudely.

“They’re just normal people,” Coral half defends, not wanting to get caught up in the conversation.

“They aren’t people at all,” Tobias reminds her, sitting on the table top next to her, his feet resting on the bench, “frankly, I’m not even sure they’re half people.” He downs his ale, his words slightly slurred together, “They come here and take our food, our people. One day, when I am Governor, I will put an end to this. I’ll make sure that they don’t get a thing-and if they fuss about it, we’ll fight back. We would win, I am sure of it. Then, we can make them our slaves,” he laughs, along with a few other men, “instead of the other way around. Imagine how productive our fields would be, if we had a smart horse to do all of the work.”

“Or more of our people would die in another stupid battle,” Coral snaps back, downing the rest of her mead. Her head swirls a bit, but she stands up none the less, “But what would you know of that, Mr. Tobias? You have never lost anything.”

She turns and leaves the awning, walking around the building to the front to go home. When she is in the shadows, she feels an arm grab her and spin her around, pressing her to the wall of the tavern.

“I will ignore the way you spoke, because I am sure having to help those beasts surely put you into a foul mood,” Tobias’s breath burns of ale as his body presses against hers.

Coral knows she should have kept her mouth shut; no one likes the centaurs. Those that are too afraid to talk about them do their best to ignore the creatures, and those that don’t care, like Tobias, make their feelings well known to the town.

She can feel his hard cock through his pants as he grinds his crotch into her, his hands roughly pawing at her breasts, “You’d do best to keep in mind that as my wife, you will keep your mouth shut on all matters concerning the centaurs.”