The Burning Pen

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

CHAPTER 3

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 3 ~ An Unfortunate Accident

Shadron had piled stones at the exact point where Sahara disappeared. He planned to follow her into the Darkworld and retrieve her, so he could become chief. The village had been in an uproar when they found out Sahara had disappeared. It was unheard of that a chief's daughter would shirk her duty in such a way. Her father was deeply shamed.

At first, Shadron tried to claim the seat of chief by default, since he was betrothed to Sahara, and as far as he was concerned, the rightful heir to the chieftain seat.

"Was Kilami killed in vain?" Shadron demanded of the villagers seated in a circle around the fire. "Did a man die for nothing? I have earned the right to be chief. Even though Sahara has fled, that right has not changed."

The village elders spoke among themselves, then one wizened tribesman spoke to Shadron.

"Without Sahara, the bloodline of the chiefs will die out. We will not make you chief without Sahara, Shadron. If you want to rule the village, you must go find her. When Eldron, her father is too weak to rule, then we will choose a temporary chief from among the elders, and give you time to find Sahara, if you truly wish to be chief," he said, his dark eyes meeting Shadron's evenly.

"But there is no guarantee I can find Sahara. Am I to be punished for a foolish woman? Is Kilami's death to mean nothing?" Shadron tried to argue.

"We have spoken, Shadron. Find Sahara," the elder said, shutting his mouth with a loud snap to show the matter was closed.

For a moment, Shadron felt like flinging himself on the elders and killing every one of them, but the villagers would rise up against him. He was a powerful fighter, but could not stand against a united village.

"Very well, I will find Sahara and marry her," he said, his gray eyes glinting in the firelight, "and then, when I am chief, I will deal with all of you."

He strode off into the darkness. The elders looked at each other worriedly. Shadron had won the right to be chief, but he was a volatile young man, not suited for the position. Most hoped he would never find Sahara. The elders had come up with another plan.

Sahara's father, Eldron, sat in his position of honor among the elders. He had remained silent during Shadron's outburst. An elder clapped his hands, and a line of lovely, bare-breasted young maidens walked up and stood in front of the chief. The sight of them made his loins feel young again. The elders looked at him.

"Eldron, we know you are dying, but do you think you have the strength to mate with one or all of these women? They are willing to be your concubines and conceive a child for you. We must keep the bloodline alive if Sahara is not found," an elder said.

Eldron's eyes drifted over the young women. They wanted him to fuck them? Well, he was dying, but not yet dead. The gray-haired chieftain looked at the elders, a slow smile creasing his face.

"The flesh is willing," he said, turning back to the women, who all smiled at him. Yes, they really were willing. It was an honor to mate with a chief. Any who conceived would be treated with great respect.

"Good," said the elder, smiling back at the lucky chieftain, "One woman will come to you every night until you have gone through them all. If none have conceived we will repeat the process until at least one does, or until you die. Is that acceptable?"

Eldron leered at the young women, who giggled.

"Very acceptable," the old man said, a purr in his voice as he looked at one particularly voluptuous maiden, with large full breasts, curvaceous hips and long, black hair that fell to her ass.

"Her first," he said, pointing at the young woman, who flushed prettily. She nodded enthusiastically

Eldron smiled. He was dying, but he would enter into the Darkworld a very happy, sated man.

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Shadron walked down to the shore, to the place where Sahara had disappeared. He looked over the water, frowning fiercely.

"Sahara, you little bitch," he seethed to himself, "You are ruining everything. I will find you and bring you back. I will marry you, and I will punish you in a way you will never forget, my wife."

Sahara's escape from him was an additional shame. Shadron was a good hunter, the best in the village. The fact that the young woman managed to elude him made him an object of ridicule. Of course, no one said anything to his face. He was too dangerous for that. But he knew what was being whispered behind his back. He could feel it, and it made his face burn with shame. He would prove how good a hunter he was when he brought the woman back from the Darkworld. His honor would be restored.

Shadron sat down by the stones, his gray eyes looking up at the stars.

"I will find you, Sahara," he breathed, "I will come for you at the next red moon."

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Sahara fled through the woods with her tail tucked between her legs. Somehow she knew Death had whistled by her, and wanted distance between herself and the strange light-haired woman. She found it strange an animal lived with a human. They did not take in animals on her island. She found it strange that animals would even be in the Darkworld. It was a place for dead humans. Animals were supposed to simply return to the earth.

Suddenly, Sahara stopped. She had come to the edge of the wood and there was a long, wide black path with yellow stripes splitting it. There was a light on a tall pole that illuminated it for a stretch before it fell away into the darkness. Experimentally, she stepped on it. Her claws clicked. It was hard. She sniffed it. The path was not made of earth, there was a sharp smell to it that she couldn't identify. It was not natural.

Sahara began to walk along the road, rather than re-enter the woods. It was easier travel. She began to trot, and had gone a couple of miles when suddenly two round lights moved toward her at a very fast speed. The lights were growling, and Sahara froze before it, unable to move. As the growling lights drew closer, there was a loud, blare of noise that woke her from her fright, and Sahara flung herself off the path just as the lights passed. They were attached to something large and heavy that would have run her down had she not moved. Sahara crouched in the darkness for a long while. Another one of the things passed, and she saw a human inside of it. What kind of beast was it that swallowed humans and ran up and down the black path? It had no living scent to it…just one of burning and sharp noxious fumes.

This was a strange place. Sahara didn't like it, but she had to deal with it. She had chosen to enter the Darkworld after all, but she never imagined it would be like this. Where were the guides that were supposed to guide her? She must be dead by now. Nothing living could stay in the Darkworld. But she didn't feel dead. She felt the survival instinct raging in her animal brain, which was why she was crouched in the wood, wary of the passing things.

After an hour or so, Sahara began to move again, this time staying to the side of the road, because that was what the path was. A road used by the few residents that lived in the area, housed deep in one of the most rural parts of Alabama Sahara thought she had crossed into a heaven world, but she really had entered the good old USA and was currently wandering through the Deep South. 

One good thing about Sahara happening into this area of America, was that people of the South had a great respect for nature. But the bad thing was, that many of them kept livestock that they would jealously protect from predators. They believed wild animals had a right to exist, long as they stayed in their place. If they killed any of the area livestock, then it meant trouble. Southerners were also hunters. Good ones. An angry livestock owner wouldn't hesitate to track her down and shoot her if she killed any of his animals. Of course, Sahara had no idea of this. She felt safer in her wolven form in this strange place. She was faster, more on point. Her animal instincts were sharper than her human ones. She could survive this way.

She continued following the road, not knowing where she was going, but heading there all the same.

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Jeremy Colcox put on his heaviest gloves, and opened the cage that housed Ringo, an injured raccoon he had nursed back to health. The raccoon snarled and moved to the back of the cage, determined not to cooperate. Jeremy held a heavy burlap sack in one hand, and reached into the cage, attempting to grab the angry animal by the scruff of its neck. Ringo snarled and batted at his gloved hand with a sharp claw.

"Come on, Ringo. You're better now. It's time to go. Stop acting up," Jeremy said as he struggled to get a hold on the surly creature. Ringo put up a brave fight, almost biting Jeremy's unprotected arm.

"Damn it!" Jeremy snarled, pulling his arm back just in time. He reached in again, and this time got a hold of the struggling animal, dragged him out and shoved him in the sack, panting heavily as he pulled the drawstring tight. He held up the squirming bag.

"Ringo, I swear you are just plain ungrateful," Jeremy said, shaking his head.

Jeremy closed the cage and exited the room, turning off the light.

He walked out the back door of the small shelter, and locked it securely before getting into his Ford Pickup, setting the burlap sack containing Ringo next to him in the front seat. The bag wriggled.

"Calm down, Ringo. You're going home," Jeremy said, starting up the truck and backing down the driveway, turning on to the road. He took off at a good clip. It was getting late and he wanted to release Ringo and get back. He was tired.

Jeremy drove down the road a few miles, checking out the woods on either side, looking for a good spot to let the raccoon go. Suddenly, his truck backfired, startling him. A black shape dashed out in front of the young man, and he slammed on his brakes, skidding. He heard a bump and a yelp.

"Oh no," he groaned, stopping and turning off his truck. 

"Wait here, Ringo," he said, grabbing his flashlight out of his glove compartment and exiting his vehicle. Shining the light around he searched to see what he had hit. He saw a shape on the side of the road and walked toward it. He looked down.

"Shit," he breathed in amazement. It was a wolf.

"Damn it," he said, crouching over the animal. It looked like he had hit it in the hindquarters. It was still breathing. He ran his hand tenderly over the black fur.

"What in the world are you doing around here?" he asked the animal softly. It whined.

"Well, I guess if you had to get hit, getting hit by a vet is the luckiest thing you can hope for," Jeremy said to the animal. "I'll be right back."

Jeremy walked back to his truck, reached in and grabbed the sack.

"Come on, Ringo, gotta let you go here, boy," he said, walking a ways into the wood, undoing the drawstring and shaking the raccoon out, running back a few feet so Ringo wouldn't exact his revenge for such undignified treatment. Ringo chattered at the vet angrily, then trundled off into the darkness without even a goodbye.

Jeremy headed back for his truck, jumped in and backed it up near the fallen wolf. He got out and checked it again. It was still breathing.

He reached into his truck bed and took out a blanket. He carefully wrapped it around the animal, lifted it and laid it inside the bed on another spread blanket, covering it. He stroked the beautiful animal's fur.

"Don't worry. I think you're just stunned. If it's something more, I'll patch you up and keep you for a few days until you're better," he said to the wolf, which whined again.

Jeremy hopped back in his truck, turned it around and headed back to the shelter. So much for an early night.

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Sahara was walking along the side of the road, when she heard another thing coming. She crouched down to wait for it to pass, when a large noise startled her. The shifter panicked and leapt into the road, directly into the path of the thing. It screeched, and Sahara felt a huge thump, and suddenly she couldn't move. She wasn't in any pain, because she was in shock. The shifter was aware of a light coming toward her. Her animal brain was screaming "Get up! Run! Escape!" but she couldn't move.

A man leaned over her, and spoke to her in a language she couldn't understand, but his voice was soft, and he smelled of animal, the same kind she had scented in the tree. He stroked her fur then walked away. After a few minutes, the thing came bearing down on her, and she whined in fear. But it stopped a few feet away from her, and the man came back and looked at her again, then covered her in something very soft and picked her up. He was very gentle as he put her inside the thing, on another softness. He said something else, then left.

Sahara panicked again as the truck began to move. She was being taken somewhere. It was carrying her away. But it wasn't hurting her. What was hurting her was her flank. It was starting to throb painfully.

Well, the man seemed gentle. Maybe he would help her. One thing was certain.

He was no spirit.

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A/N: Well, Sahara met with an accident, and Jeremy Colcox, a vet. How convenient for an injured animal. Ringo was an ungrateful little coon, wasn't he? Lol. Well, please review.

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