Silver Creek miserere mei, deus

sorry for the brick. doing something for NaWo.

twelve days have passed since their arrival in the teekon wilds, filled with intrigue, drama, and promise. addison expects no less of the odolf clan. they breathe new life into each place they visit. despite harrison's protestations against the prospect, initially, they have remained in the area around the creek, carving out a life here. the hunting is good, and there are plenty of herbs to gather. much to do for both men and women.

she spends much time wandering along the creek, looking for plants. she enjoys the solitude. though she will never admit it, cyclone's insubordination had rattled her, and she goes out of her way to avoid the blackthorn woman, knowing that though her will is stronger, cyclone's body is bigger. should it come to a fight--she cannot fight; her brothers would have her head!--she will undoubtedly be defeated. she can only battle with words, and words can only be used so long before a confrontation comes to blows.

instead, she takes comfort in her sister, in the kinder women around, and in iliksis. not exactly in him, but she watches him, furtively. she admires the length of his body, the darkness of his pelt. like a night without moon or stars, endless, a void. she hungers for his touch, and for him to look at her again the way he had--as if wanting to devour her, body and soul. she finds that she so desperately wants to be consumed. . .by anyone, but especially by him.

not to consume, but to be consumed. to be mastered in a way her brothers cannot do to her. scolding and smugness is one thing; to be penetrated is quite another. her breath catches hard and fast in her throat, and she has to stop briefly to compose herself before carrying on, warmth pooling between her thighs.

will grayson choose the lanky man to be her husband? addison can only hope. truthfully, the pickings are slim beyond him. she will bow dutifully to whomever her brother selects, but perhaps if she can bend his mind a certain direction, a soft whisper in the ear. . .

oh, grayson, look how he is built! imagine our children, quick and sharp and smart. his seed would do the odolf line proud.

how can he refuse her? beyond the structural chasm between them, addison knows that grayson loves her. they have a respect for each other that goes beyond the obvious. she knows that he values her input, because she is more like aaron than anyone would voice aloud. at any rate, she is not the clown that harrison is. only their anatomy pushes him above and ahead. in any other world, she would surely have harrison--and perhaps grayson, too--cowering at her feet.

and on that line of thought, could the problem cyclone presented be mitigated through words as well? say she successfully convinced grayson to marry her to harrison, or better yet, dawson. . .or one of the other men that joined their ranks, eventually. there is a nightmarish possibility that he connects her to iliksis, one that sends hot fire up in her belly, but at the same time, it eliminates the chance that she is queen to grayson's reign.

no, no, no! he is mine--he will have me, not her!

if grayson sends cyclone to iliksis, she will fuck him before cyclone gets the chance. she will bear his fruit first, even if she is punished for it after the children are born. she will see to it. death seems a more satisfying prospect than living miserably with someone else's pups--or, worse yet, a childless virgin. she will die before seeing cyclone and iliksis together.

addison licks her lips thoughtfully, smiling to herself. yes, if she can pull it off, she might fulfill her own desires and crush her rival without lifting a paw. she slides nimbly down the bank, tail sticking straight out behind her to steady her wobbling legs, peering down at a clump of watercress. she bends her head and takes the green stems between her teeth, and slips into a fantasy, the stream cool and tickling against her nose.

she has never had a man; she has no idea what it must feel like. some women told her it hurt, but others had said it is the most lovely feeling in the world. maybe both. did pain come with pleasure, just as fear came with desire? maybe all the world is a series of dichotomies, and life is a constant battle between them. pain and pleasure, fear and desire, strength and weakness, power and meekness. she is both and none, expected to harbor one and not the other. labeled for one specific purpose.

weak. meek. fearful and pained.

but iliksis has brought the fire out within her, and as she pulls the herbs from the damp earth, she feels her stomach tighten. she has let the world fuck her for so many moons. why not let iliksis have a crack at her, too?

for now, she bides her time. rosings will become a part of this land again, just as it was once before. she looks forward to seeing the stories her father had told come to life before her eyes. in her childhood, it had seemed so distant, unreal. everything had. but they are doing it, now, and they will be successful. it is not a question--victory is in their blood, conquest by culture. they will refine the savage women of these lands, fill the place with their children, bearing the odolf name--

well, not all of them. but she hopes that with time, those men that join them are proud enough of the world that they have created that they adopt the surname, too. where would they be without the odolfs? she had said it to cyclone, and she will say it to any woman who dares to question them, and she prays that grayson and harrison and dawson will say it to any man who steps out of line.

they are masters of their fate. her brothers will lead the charge, and she will push silently--but, god, not weakly--behind. they will create. they will survive.