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ALES of Zhor:

"THE RUN OF THE HIND"

by Overlord

The forests of Ysbeidol are the sanctuaries and hunting grounds of several bands of forest girls, most of them at odds with one another. Some bands consist of former free women, some of escaped female slaves, some of escaped serum girls. When not fighting other bands, for hunting territory and obscure points of pride, these outlaw women rob travelers and make raids upon the farms and villages at the fringe of the forest. Laden with valuables and captives, they vanish back into their sanctuaries to the frustration of the inhabitants. The captives taken by the forest girls are usually ransomed, but those who cannot pay -- or those who have particularly offended their haughty captors -- are often transformed with Ruk's Serum (which the forest girls acquired from corrupt slave-dealers) and sold to slavers at prearranged rendezvous points. These transactions are seldom interfered with, for the forest country lacks consistent authority.

But the proud, fierce, and independent forest girls are themselves greatly desired for slaves. It pleases the men of Zhor to capture them like beautiful she-beasts and place them in the chains of pleasure slaves. Many a customer has bid high to be able to enjoy personally breaking a forest girl to the collar. The outlaw women are everything that the culture of Zhor says women should not be: arrogantly independent, violently criminal, and dangerous in the fight. It is not wonder that Zhorian males take such delight in their taming.

And Zhorian males are skilled at taming women. It is said that even some of the most resistant forest girls, those who scratched, bit, kicked, and fought back furiously at their capture, have been reduced to mewing little slaves of pleasure. The former enhanced slaves and serum-girls are the easiest to break to the collar, naturally enough. But even those who are much more obdurate -- usually natural-born, unenhanced women -- can be humbled by use of Ruk's Serum. The formula will not only change a woman's shape to something more pleasing, but it also give her the genetically-induced responses of a natural slave. But captured forest girls are not available to fill market demand and hence their prices run high. Hunters might seek them in the wild like other game, but they are a cunning and slippery prey. Those who were too bold in seeking to snare them often came to mishap.

A group of ten skilled hunters led by Sitrig of Brith ventured into the forests of Ysbeidol to catch a valuable snare of forest girls, for whom the market was particularly avid that season. They were well equipped and several were skilled trackers of both human and animal prey. This was not a party of amateur bravos, but a skilled and experience team. Hardly any man there had not taken one or more forest girls previously. But this time they had set their sights upon a particularly difficult prey -- the band of Lleceu of the Throwing Spear, an exceptionally beautiful woman whose raids for plunder had been especially galling to the area people. Any woman of Lleceu's band would go for at least twice the price of any ordinary forest girl, and Lleceu herself, if brought before the bidders naked, collared, and bound in chains, would no doubt have been worth at least five of the lesser kind.

Seeking spoor and gathering what intelligence they could, the party of hunters eventually discovered the hidden camp of a band of forest girls, possibly that of the beautiful and elusive Lleceu. They were confident. Their approach had been expert and care had been taken that no hidden sentries could have spotted their approach.

But when they swept into camp, they found it empty. The camp still held the band's accumulated plunder, and so they knew it had not been abandoned. Sitrig reasoned that Lleceu's band was out raiding and would be returning soon, all unsuspecting. So he staked out the hunters in two of the huts, hid all signs of their coming, and waited to trap the outlaw girls when they returned.

But the hours of waiting dragged out long. As it happened, the hunters' initial search of the camp had found flagons of siolat wine, no doubt stolen from some merchant caravan. Most of the hunters had wanted to partake of it at once, but Sitrig had forcefully denied them. The forest girls were dangerous prey and men who were taken off their game by strong drink would be at a disadvantage. "It might be poisoned, too," he warned them, to further discourage rashness.

After hours of stake-out, darkness fell. At last a man shuffled in the darkness and asked, "I will try a cup of that wine and see if it is poisoned."

"You're an idiot," said Sitrig.

"But a thirsty idiot," said the hunter. "I have always hoped to die drunk!"

The men kept growing more restive, so Sitrig said, "So drink and be damned."

The hunter drank and after a hour no ill effects came upon him. The men were getting surly, so Sitrig said, "I do not advise it, but any man who is a fool at heart may take a single small cup. And you, Diotyn, have already had yours and shall have no more!"

So most of the men drank. About a half hour later, Diotyn slumped down to his knees and then fell sprawling face-down on the hut floor. "He's asleep!" declaimed a hunter.

Sitrig bent over the man. "Asleep nothing. He has been drugged. It's a trap! All who drank that wine will be like him in another hour. We have to get out of here, for the forest girls must only be waiting for us to all to go to asleep!"

They hurried to the other hut where hunters lay hidden, but to their dismay all five in the second hut were already asleep, not having had the firm Sitrig on hand to restrain them for so long. "We cannot carry them, or Diotyn," declared Sitrig. "The rest of us must travel lightly and rapidly to elude any forest cats that lay in wait for us!" The four men then made for the forest ready for a fight, but they found no cordon of warrior women waiting. Nonetheless, they pressed on with all speed, until the two of the four, the last who had drunk the wine, collapsed into unconsciousness. "What shall we do with them?" said Pybyr, Sitrig's last fit companion and, like him, a temperate man.

"If I abandon my men, my name will be offal all through the forest," the lead hunter declared.

"Your name is already ruined, for we have left six others behind," said Pybyr with brutal frankness. "My every instinct tells me that the women of Lleceu are near. Now that we are as weak as we shall become, they will soon strike. Against a band of eight to twelve outlaw women we two will have no chance. To stay is surrender, not courage. The best thing either of us could do is to win free and come back with a new party to punish these too-clever women."

These word, Sitrig knew, were wise. "We shall hide these men under the brush. If the forest girls are not following, they shall awaken none the worse in the morning and find their own way back."

"Agreed," said Pybyr, and the two hastily concealed their drugged companions. Afterwards, they agreed that to split up because that would afford each the best chance to get through any screens of pursuers by night.

So each ran lightly into the forest in a different direction. Alas, it was no long before Sitrig heard the several pairs of light feet running behind him. His worst fears had been fulfilled. But the next thing he knew, attackers were all around him and a hunting net was being cast over his shoulders.

.

A week later, Sitrig's serum girl transformation was complete. Across from him -- from her --, bound in black leather straps, sat Diotyn, now a beauty with ash-blond hair. Lleceu's band had nine such captives and only Pybyr was unaccounted for. It was likely that he had escaped, though a single hunter might easily fall prey to any of the usual hazards of the forest. Lleceu herself stepped up to gaze down upon Sitrig, her expression hard to read. Perhaps because she had captured and transformed so many enemies before she did not feel much like gloating over yet another victory.

"I have heard of you, Sitrig," she said. "You were a great hunter and have taken many girls from the forest for what the slavers will pay. Men believe that women revel in the life of a pleasure slave, but I was one and I did not revel. I escaped as soon as I could."

"You have no brand," said Sitrig from her spot on the ground.

"Once I left the forest and went in disguise to a city, where a reliable surgeon removed it. I myself prefer to leave the collaring and branding of captives to the slavers. They can give you a new name, also. I care little about such things."

"What do you care about?" asked Sitrig.

The outlaw shrugged. "Freedom, and enough gold to live well. The life of a forest girl suits me." "It might suit me, also," said Sitrig. "As you say, I am a hunter of some skill. I believe I can be of use to your band." Lleceu shook her head. "A good forest girl must appreciate freedom, and you have not yet learned to do so. The collar will teach you about such things. Also, Ruk's Serum spoils most girls for the forest life. Such crave not freedom but brolling and male domination. Once you are put to slave use, such cravings shall be awakened in you, also. Slavery is the best life for a natural slave, especially one as beautiful as you have become."

"You are hard of heart," said Sitrig.

"As are you. The game we play here in the Ysbeidol is a cruel one. You have won it many times before, but this time you have lost. You came to place me and my followers into a life of bondage unending. Why should I not do the same to my enemies?"

"You should make friends, not enemies. I still think I would make a better forest girl than pleasure slave." said Sitrig. "Many bands of forest girls are serum girls."

"So there are, but I read you quite differently," replied the bandit woman. "I think you are unsuitable for the forest, that you will ignite into a magnificent slave the first time that a master takes you to the furs. Trust in fate, Sitrig. It once made me a slave once, but in a kinder mood it freed me. It may free you, too, some day. In the end, it all life and what we get from it comes down to fate."

So it came to pass that Sitrig and her eight companions were taken into the forest and bound in a clearing until the merchants came. This was a bartering site for the outlaw girls and that unscrupulous dealers that bought their stolen goods and captives. "Hunters make good serum slaves," said a fat merchant, looking at the nine women. "They are much like forest girls in their cunning and mettle, and men enjoy taming them almost as much." "Then I assume you will pay well for them," suggested Lleceu. "Do I not always?" "No," said Lleceu with a smile. "But you are an amoral rogue and so we put up with your parsimonious ways."

The pair laughed and the deal was struck.

The serum girls were taken into a town beyond the forest where most of them were collared and branded. But three were not, including Sitrig. The fat merchant explained why:

"From what I have been told, the three of you were the best hunters in your group. The others will to to the common blocks in the river ports south of here, but I have an advanced order from a club of wealthy sportsmen who desire three girls fit to compete in the "run of the hind."

Sitrig knew of this game and had even participated in "hind runs" a number of times. The "run of the hind" was the release of one or more captive women, usually girls who had never worn the collar or the brand. They would be given weapons, footwear of some kind, and a head start into the forest. Then the hunters would come after them. Any girl who avoided capture until sunset was declared free. If captured, however, the man who made the capture would take the girl home as his own slave. Yet Sitrig was pleased at this opportunity, for it seemed a better chance to escape slavery than most serum girls were afforded. She told the slaver that she would give the hunters a good race.

At dawn the three serum girls were in place at their marks. Sitrig gazed across at her nearest companion, a blonde in deerskin who had once been Jocan, one of the best hunters roaming the Ysbeidol forest. This was good for her, for all the runners would have to be at their most cunning to ape the tricks of canniest wild game. At the cry of the hunt master, the girls raced off into the forest, eager to put as much distance as possible between them and the hunters, who would start an hour later. The three separated, for that would give them a better chance to elude the huntsmen. Besides, none of them could aid the others and would not even try. Each could only hope that she evaded her pursuers alone.

Hours passed before Sitrig heard the light stride of a professional woodsman. She dashed behind cover to hide and to her surprise saw that the man passing was Pybyr. Was this fate or accident? What a dilemma! She could let him go by or ask for help. She still might escape on her own, but knew that hinds are almost always captured. She had only been in one previous hunt where even a single girl escaped. But if she showed herself to Pybyr, her fate would be in his hands and totally out of her own. She tried to think. If their roles were reversed, what would she do? The two had not known one another well, but they had worked well together and had shared a long night of danger. Might Pybyr realize that but for fate it could have been Sitrig who was the hunter and he the fair prey? And if he did realize it, would it make him more sympathetic. Could she sink for hoping for sympathy? Yet surely this meeting was wyrd and not accident. It must mean something. Placing her fate in the hands of the gods, Sitrig stood up.

"Stay were you are girl, drop that knife, and I shall not be rough with you," said the hunter.

"Perhaps you would not, Pybyr. But are you so anxious to take Sitrig of Brith for your furs?" The man was surprised. "I thought you would have willingly died before being taken." It didn't work out that way," the serum girl explained. "Of all the possible hinds in the world! You have spoiled the hunt for me," he said. "I hope you realize that." "I'm not having a good time myself. What are you going to do?" "What should I do? You are the slave of another. It is harsh, but it is fate. But we have shared adventure and danger and I would take no pleasure in owning you, and the money I might gain from your sale would burn my hand."

"If that is true, should I surrender to you, would you free me?"

The man looked like he had never even considered that possibility. "A man does not go around freeing slaves. You ask much of past associations, Sitrig of Brith."

She shrugged. "We were comrades and I never did you wrong."

"You do me wrong now! What you ask is a breach of honor. I never thought that such a consummate hunter as Sitrig of Brith would treat the rules of sport so lightly. You have not only asked me to cheat, but also to deny myself even the prize of cheating." He laughed at that paradox. And Sitrig laughed, too.

"I fulfilled my obligations to you as a hunter," said Pybyr as he again grew sober. "The honor of the hunt mandates that I take and bind you."

"Your honor is more than that," she advised him. "You owe me vengeance, the vengeance you pledged that night in the forest. Do me this simple courtesy and be absorbed of your vow." She had left unsaid the fact that Pybyr had been slow thus far in fulfilling that vow.

"If I did as you asked," the hunter inquired, "where will you go afterwards? You would not be accepted as a master hunter any longer."

"Perchance I could go back to the forest girls."

"They might enslave you again."

"Perhaps. But I would be truly safe nowhere, unless I return to the home of my kinsmen who never had any great affection for me. Or --"

"Or what?"

"Or I might hunt with you. We made good comrades once; has this new shape made the prospect of following the game trails at my side less appealing than before?" "More appealing, if anything," said the hunter, "except that I would be driven mad with lust of you." "Are you saying you would show self-restrain to your grief?" "I'm saying that I would feel reluctant to go to the furs with Sitrig of Brith."

"In truth, I do not want to share the furs with any man, either," replied Sitrig with a nod. "But that may change. I do not know."

"I suppose a hunting companion like you would make me the envy of our peers. And if the arrangement does not prove tolerable I could end it, one way or the other," remarked the huntsman.

True. As an unprotected female he could even collar and sell her should their partnership go sour. But this arrangement was the best she could expect. "Agreed. Strip and bind me as you would any hind, then and take me back to the lodge."

He smiled. "If I bind you, can you be so certain I will not brand you, also? You are very beautiful and very helpless. If I can be so dishonorable in regards to the rules of the hunt, do you not fear that I might also be dishonorable in my promises to you?"

"If that were your intent, you could have seized me without making any dishonorable arrangement. What will be will be. As a woman once said to me, it call comes down to fate."

.

So Pybyr took Sitrig as his prize back to the starting area. The hunters, seeing Sitrig with the victor, envied him and some of them offered to buy the girl on the spot. The victorious hunter only shook his head ruefully and passed on. Not far ahead they came upon the other lucky huntsmen. Both Jocan and Ogfaen, had been captured.

Sitrig sighed. Almost always the "hinds" were taken in the course of a run. There was nothing anyone could do for the hapless former hunters once their forest skills had failed them. Maybe it was true that slavery was the best life for a natural slave, and Ruk's Serum ran through their veins. Even so, it appeared that Jocan had been insolent and stubborn with the man who had snared her. Why else would he have set her out naked and gagged, bound with colorful display ropes? Jocan should have known he could use her as he pleased despite her resistance, for she had had her way with many slaves before, while still a man. Casually Sitrig noted that both the successful hunters looked like strong and lusty men. Such masters would not hesitate to take their captured "hinds" to the furs and over many nights reduce them to pliant pleasure slaves before finally selling them for profit.

"Pybyr..." Sitrig began tentatively.

"Address me as 'master' until I free you," he whispered, "or people will know our ruse. If I lose face, I may punish you by keeping you slave for some considerable time. In truth, seeing our former companions stripped and bound has made my blood run hot and I envy their masters. Now, what do you wish to say?"

She kept her voice very low. "If you had met one of the other two instead of me, would you have dealt with them in a similar way?"

He shrugged. "I think not. They drank the siolat though you warned them not to. They deserve exactly what fate has decreed for them. Yet, it is for the best some other hand than mine shall place the brand upon their lovely thighs."

.

So Sitrig, having take the name of Rhonwen, lived as Pybyr's free hunting companion thereafter. Despite her skill, her womanly inability to be sated with just one organism kept her in a distracted state of sexual excitement much of the time. It was fortunate for her that Pybyr got over his reluctance to take one whom he had known as Sitrig of Brith to the furs. Rhonwen's slave-need dismayed her even more. Were not for Pybyr, she probably would have gone to some siolat tavern by the river and knelt with crossed wrists before the master of house. But Pybyr indulged his companion, permitting her to act her nature when they were alone. Rhonwen often did the duties of the camp nude, imagining that she was serving a mighty hunter master as lowly collared and branded thrall. Having a companion like Rhonwen was just as distracting for Pybyr as it was for Rhonwen, and it took the edge off his hunting.

But though there were more successful hunters in the forests of Ysbeidol then and later, few of them enjoyed life so much.

END

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