The Burning Pen

An Original Story: Sahara (Yet Untitled)
by Ruth Solomon

CHAPTER 1

Disclaimer: This original story is rated NC-17 and contains graphic sexual content and violence. It is meant to be read by those 18 and over. Those who are underage please leave this site now.

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Chapter 1 ~ Sahara's Plight

Nineteen-year-old Sahara ran through the forest as quickly as she could, picking her way over the vines and roots that almost made her stumble in her flight, her small frame enabling her to slip through the low hanging branches without slowing. She couldn't hear anyone pursing her, but that meant nothing, particularly if Shadron had transformed. The young, black-eyed, black-haired woman weaved her way through the trees, trying to put distance between herself and the village, distance between herself and a man she didn't want to marry.

The woman had no idea where she would go. The island was small, but there were quite a few caves on the mountain that sat in the middle of the isle. Possibly she could take up residence in one and live off the land. She knew how to hunt. Anything would be better than to marry the cruel Shadron who had won her hand.

Sahara was the only child of the dying chief of her village. The young woman's mother had died of an injury she received falling from the mountain during a hunt many years ago. As a woman Sahara could not rule the tribe when her father departed this life to join the Darkworld, and so had to marry. Her husband would become chief in her father's stead. 

As soon as the village healer announced the chief's imminent death was assured, a competition was held to find the strongest male of the tribe to be Sahara's mate. The test had several parts that challenged the competitors' hunting skills, intelligence and strength. The tribesmen dropped out of the trial one by one, until only two men were left. Shadron and Kilami. 

Kilami was a very well liked, kind and helpful young tribesman of twenty, and Sahara's preference. He was brown-skinned, muscular, tall, slim, black-eyed and black-haired, with a smile that could light up the darkest night. Kilami had three sisters and a mother who he supported, his father having died years ago. Not only did he support his family, but often brought food to the houses of women and the aged who had no men to care for them. He was well known too, for his dalliances with women…but those dalliances were gentle rewards for his goodness. He never demanded or expected such favors for his acts of kindness, but they were given gladly, the young women coming to his home and retrieving him in the night, sometimes two or three at a time and taking him deep into the bush, showing him their gratefulness in no uncertain terms beneath the stars. Kilami knew how to be good to women and respected them. Sahara believed he would make a fine husband and an even finer chief. He had already shown his care for the people of the village. 

Sahara did not want Shadron.

Shadron was also a handsome young man, twenty-three years old, six feet tall and well built. He was olive-skinned with the body of an athlete, shoulder length black hair and hypnotic 'magic eyes' that almost all the young women of the village fell for. But he had a cruel streak and a terrible temper that made itself known on many occasions. He also had a grudge against Sahara, because she would not accept his advances like the other women of the island. He felt the chief's daughter had always treated him as if he were unworthy of her, when in reality Sahara just did not fall for his charms like the other young women. Shadron had seduced and fucked almost every maiden in the village who was of acceptable mating age. It was a good thing virginity was not a requirement for marriage among the people, or the village would be full of unmarried old maids because of him.

For some reason Shadron had been born with gray eyes, whereas the natural eye color of the island dwellers was dark brown or black. It was rumored that long ago, a stranger had come to the island during the red moon. A man that could not shift, who was fair-skinned and gray-eyed. The white man was shunned as an outsider, but managed to survive, leading a rather lonely existence on the mountain, coming down to the shore to fish and dig oysters until one of the young woman from the village took an interest in him, attracted by his strange looks and ways. 

She brought him food, and became his lover as well as his cause of death. When she came up pregnant, he was hunted down and killed for touching her. She refused to let the healer take the child from her womb and was sent to live out her life in exile on the other side of the island. No one remembered her name, but she bore the child from the union. It was believed that the descendents of this child made their way back to the village and that Shadron was a descendant of this forbidden coupling, though none dared say this to his face.

The final trial between Shadron and Kilami was hand-to-hand combat to the death, either in human or shape-shifted form. The two men met in the center of the village, surrounded by a large circle of villagers who would witness the battle. A large bonfire burned in the center of the circle, and the two men stood on opposite sides of the flames, knives drawn and crouching, waiting for the signal to be given by the chief. Sahara's father let out a shout, and the two men charged each other, the fury of their purpose burning in their eyes. Sahara watched, her heart pounding, knowing that one man would lose his life tonight to because of his desire become her mate and leader of the village.

Kilami put up a courageous battle, but Shadron was stronger and faster. He won, killing the young man. The tall, muscled tribesman stood over the body of his rival, his knife buried to the hilt in Kilami's chest, his own blood streaming down his body. Shadron howled his victory to the stars, as the wails of Kilami's mother, sisters and the other young women of the village filled the night sky. Kilami's body was taken away for burial

Shadron then turned, his gray eyes searching the circle, seeking to locate Sahara who was sitting with the wailing women. He saw her. Sahara's eyes were large and she was bathed in flickering firelight. 

Shadron strode over to the young woman, and stood above her with glittering gray eyes, a look of lustful ownership on his face as he looked down on his beautiful prize. Sahara was one of the loveliest women in his tribe, and as far as he knew, untouched. The young man thrust his hips forward strongly as a symbolic gesture that she would be his wife. Sahara did not smile her acceptance as was the custom of a woman chosen for marriage. Instead she dropped her head in misery, shaming and dishonoring the tribesman before the entire village. 

Such disrespect was rarely tolerated and a tribesman could avenge him on a woman who treated him in such a manner publicly. But Sahara was the chief's daughter, and considered royalty. That is what stayed Shadron's hand. If she had been any other woman, Shadron would have snatched her up from the ground, beaten her and mated with her brutally in full view of the island dwellers to restore and prove his manhood to both her and those who witnessed the act. But he could not touch her, so stared down at her, angry and stone-faced, his handsome features contorted with rage. It did not matter that she did not smile. She still belonged to him. All that was left was the marriage ceremony that would be held on the night of the red moon.

"You will regret this, Sahara," Shadron stately coldly before striding from the circle and into the night. When he brought the proud, disdainful young woman to his bed, he would take her hard, and her screams would redeem him in the eyes of the village.

It was from Shadron Sahara was fleeing now. Tonight was the night of the red moon, and she was to marry him in a special ceremony. Her father was not yet dead, but the red moon came only at certain times, times that varied, times when the island became strange and unearthly. Legend said it was during the red moon that the Darkworld touched their own, and people could pass through from one place to another. There was no way to know when the next red moon would occur to bind her to Shadron, so tonight was the night of their marriage.

Sahara was fleeing the young man because of an incident that happened several days ago. She had been in the woodlands, picking fruit her father had a craving for, when the tribesman suddenly appeared and thrust her against a tree, pressing his body hard against hers, his erection evident.

"I should fuck you, Sahara," Shadron breathed, his gray eyes hard with anger and lust. "You shamed me in front of the entire village by not accepting me willingly. I risked my life to have you, and you show me no appreciation. It is only because you are the chief's daughter that I don't cleave you in half…yet."

Sahara had pushed her small hands against his chest, trying to push him off her body, but he was set as if made of stone and unmovable. Shadron caught her wrist painfully.

"Are you untouched?" he hissed at her. "Has any man been inside you yet, Sahara?" His gray eyes glittered possessively.

"No man has touched me," Sahara said through gritted teeth as she tried to wrench her hand away from him, starting to struggle more desperately. Shadron watched her fight against him, a smirk on his handsome face as he stood there impervious to her blows, trapping her against the tree with his body.

"You are a fighter. I will fuck that out of you on our wedding night. You can expect me to be cruel, Sahara. Cruel and thorough with you. Your cries will echo through the village, float into every home, reach the ears of every villager that witnessed your mistreatment of me that night. My honor will be restored when I punish you for your disdain. Your body will no longer belong to you…and I intend to enjoy it for a long time before you bear children for me. I will show you things to do to me. Things with your mouth and hands," he breathed down at her. Sahara could feel his manhood throbbing against her belly.

"Get off of me, Shadron! You have no right! I am not your wife yet," she hissed, pushing at him. Finally, he backed off. She could see that his loincloth was tented, his erection lifting it away from his body. Shadron saw the part of his anatomy she was looking at.

"Curious?" he asked her with a lewd smile. 

The young man lowered the cloth and took out his cock, pulling back the foreskin to show her the size of his glistening head and shaft. It was enormous. Sahara's eyes widened and she turned away from him, pressing her face against the tree. She had never seen a man's organ before and it was daunting to know that was what the tribesman was going to shove inside of her when she became his wife. It certainly looked big enough to make her scream. Shadron tucked his cock back under the cloth and looked at her hiding her face against the tree.

"You can't hide from me forever, Sahara. The next red moon will find me buried between your thighs, and you will know me as a man. I'll make sure of that," he said, his gray eyes glittering at the cringing woman. 

He would love to take Sahara now against her will, covering her mouth, trapping her against the tree, lifting her dress and thrusting himself into her untouched body over and over. But generations of inbred respect for the female offspring of chiefs as well as the legends that told of the horrible things that happened to men who defiled them against their will, kept him from her.

"The next red moon, Sahara…you will no longer be a chief's daughter, but a chief's wife. There will be no where for you to hide where I can't reach you." Shadron breathed, melting back into the forest without a sound and disappearing.

Sahara didn't know if his parting words were true, but if there was somewhere for her to hide on the island, she would find it. She burst through the edge of the forest into the open air of the shore, running as fast as she could, cursing the sand that held her tracks as testament of her passing. Suddenly, she heard Shadron bellowing her name. She looked back and saw him burst from the forest with two other tribesmen, running strongly, closing the distance between them, his gray eyes hard as if on the hunt.

The red moon was high in the sky, and the strange shimmer that surrounded the shoreline whenever the red moon rose was evident. Sahara's heart pounded in her chest as she ran. In a burst of fear she transformed mid-stride, loping across the sands at full speed, heading for the shoreline, intending to fling herself into the sea. Death would be better than marriage to such a man.

Shadron saw her transformation, and he too transformed. The great gray-eyed wolf charged after the smaller black one, still closing the distance. He looked up toward the red moon. It was starting to lighten. He had to hurry…or it would fade and he would have to wait until the next red moon to have her.

Sahara ran, her forelegs passing between her back legs as she lunged forward, charging towards the sea and liberty, her tongue streaming from the side of her muzzle as she panted with her efforts to escape Shadron. The shimmer was beginning to fade as the red moon lightened. She increased her speed. Maybe there was another world beyond that shimmer as the legends said, and she would be safe from Shadron forever. Or maybe the sea would be kind and swallow her without much pain. She drew closer to the fading shimmer and raced through.

Shadron saw Sahara pass into the shimmer and disappear. Desperately he tried to follow, running toward the water at the exact place she disappeared. He only succeeded in stumbling into the incoming tide, falling and soaking his fur. The shapeshifter pulled himself up, shook off and ran up and down the shoreline, scenting the sands, trying to find a trace of Sahara. But she was gone. Shadron sat on his haunches and howled at the betraying moon. 

His mate had passed over into the Darkworld.

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