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Mariah shifted her grandmother's brooch, a heavy silver one shaped like a crow, attached on her shoulder which kept her traveling cloak in place. She had lived her entire life in Bramblespire, a small village in the middle of the Forest of Enn. It was all she had ever known but, therein, was also a life she longed to shed. Life in Bramblespire hadn't been difficult for her; she was the daughter of one of the three big houses and things had been easy... except that she had no control over her life.

With nothing but her clothes and her cloak, Mariah stepped away from the village gate, which closed behind her. The young woman's only farewell remark to her prior life was a sourly spat "Good riddance."

Ever since she had turned 16 her parents were eager to use her to improve the status of their family. She was told it was her duty as a daughter-- her purpose was to raise the standing of her family by being handed off to a husband. Her family was well-positioned since she was of an age where she could be married to either contemporary household since both had sons looking for a wife. It 'made good sense' according to her parents, but she didn't agree.

It had taken nearly three years for her parents to weasel as many concessions out of either potential suitor, pitting them against one another in a bidding war for a dowery and, during that time, she was little but an auctioned item. She, however, was not okay letting someone else decide her life for her. Mariah did everything she could to fight her parents' will, including finding every opportunity to sully her value-- not only did she find a way to divest herself of her virginity, but she found three different partners and two of them were very, VERY public. That was the final ticket to her freedom.

Her breath came out fogging in the damp evening air as she strode away from town, following the path used by the occasional merchants that bothered finding the town so deep in the forest.. The path dissolved into tangled bracken within ten paces; dusk bled through the canopy, staining the birch trunks purple-black. Shadows pooled like spilled ink between roots, and somewhere deep in the thicket, a low scrape echoed silence swallowed it whole. She pushed forward anyway, twigs snapping under her soft traveling boots like tiny bones. The smell of wet earth and decay thickened with every step away from Bramblespire-- away from gilded cage and the life she was only too eager to leave behind.

Mariah forged onward eagerly, embraced by the forest, confident that what awaited her would be far better than what she had to expect under her parents' roof or the roof of the fiance they'd chosen for her. She was passingly familiar with the forest, having taken every opportunity she could to flee the village and, despite having never spent a single night outside the town walls, she was far happier to be free than to be sequestered. The young woman's stride carried her away from her past and confidently toward her future.

The deeper Mariah pushed through the ferns, the colder the air grew, a damp chill seeping through her cloak as if the trees themselves were exhaling frost. The scraping sound returned, closer at that point-- rhythmic, deliberate, like a blade being drawn slowly across stone. As she tried to focus on the sound she failed to pay attention to where her foot was placed and a thorny vine caught her ankle, pitching the young woman forward into a bed of rotting leaves. As she struggle to rise, mud caking her palms, a low growl vibrated through the earth beneath her. From behind a moss-crusted oak, two amber eyes ignited in the gloom, unblinking. The air thickened with the scent of wet fur mixed with a metallic tinge.

Her frantic scramble at the sudden sound sent dead leaves spraying as Mariah flipped onto her back, boots digging into the soft earth as she started scrambling away. The amber eyes didn't move and didn't waver, instead, lowering down slightly until they were level with hers and their owner moved forward out of the night time shadows revealing the massive silhouette as it peeled away from an oak tree.

The early evening moonlight shone in a ray down on coarse, matted fur the color of shadowed lichen and the low growl deepened into a reverberation she felt in her ribs. Slowly, deliberately, the creature stalked forward: a towering, wolf-like beast, built in many ways similarly to a man with shoulders broader than the tree trunk, claws like rusted iron daggers scoring deep grooves in the forest floor. Its muzzle wrinkled, baring yellowed fangs slick with saliva and the scent of musk and old blood flooded the air-- Thick. Primal. Undeniable. Although it seemed in all ways to be stalking, the creature didn't pounce; it studied her instead with an obvious intellect, nostrils flaring as it inhaled her scent.

Mariah paused in her scrambling retreat once her back pressed up against a tree. She noticed the intelligence behind its eyes and, despite its bestial appearance, that singular trait made it seem as if it were not entirely a monster. "Are..." she paused in asking the question, and rethought it. "Do... you speak?"

The werewolf's ears twitched violently at the sound of her trembling voice breaking the forest's stillness. Its nostrils flared wider, inhaling her scent further, wet, black nose working the air with unnerving precision as its amber eyes locked onto her face-- not predatory as much as analytical, almost curious, as if trying to decipher her meaning. A low rumble escaped its throat, vibrating through the very air with enough strength to make her bones quiver; not a growl, but a resonant bass tone that shaped itself into guttural syllables with purposeful focus.

The creature spoke hesitantly, seemingly having to work hard to shape the words. "Speak... human. Yes."

The words were thick with saliva and the strain of vocal cords not used for language. Its massive head tilted sideways, claws flexing slightly as it took another step closer-- not advancing, as such, merely adjusting its stance. The intelligence she glimpsed in its stare flashed brighter in its gaze, a wild consciousness wrestling with instinct behind its burning stare.

Mariah was stuck with uncertainty at that; if it meant to hurt her it certainly could have, but it spoke. It actually SPOKE. Perhaps there was an opportunity to reason with it? She tried that. "My... my name is Mariah... do... you have a name?"

The werewolf's head tilts further at her stammered words, ears pivoting like weathered sails, seemingly confused for a few moments. Its response emerged as a hesitant, graveled cough. "Name?"

Mariah nodded, staring at it insistently, as if hoping by will that it would understand her meaning, feeling courageous enough to try and engage it in conversation, which, she reasoned, would be far better than being eaten. "Right... among my people, we introduce ourselves the first time we meet. My name is Mariah... and you are?"

Amber eyes flickered with something akin to dark amusement as stared at her, as if finally coming to a conclusion that accomidated an answer. Its massive chest expanded with a rattling inhale-- the scent of wet fur and musk thickening. It ultimately exhaled syllables that sounded like stones grinding in a riverbed: "Black... Moss."

A low, rumbling chuckle vibrated the air between them-- it wasn't threatening, rather, it wast primal... ancient even. The sound was accompanied by the werewolf's movement as it slowly extended one clawed hand, palm-upward, revealing thick pads scarred by what was probably a very hard life in the woods. The gesture held no aggression; instead, it felt like an offering of truce from a creature more accustomed to tearing flesh than exchanging pleasantries. It was a welcome reprieve... if it could be trusted.

Mariah paused before slowly reaching out her hand to accept its paw. "Your name is 'Black Moss'?" She recovered enough from her hesitanceto communicate, trying an amicable comment. "That is a very handsome name."

Her fingers brush against Black-Moss's scarred palm-- the texture was like coarse tree bark beneath mud-caked skin, and his digits flexed to carefully cradle her wrist without his claws drawing near her tender flesh to cradle her wrist. A low rumble built in his chest, deeper than before. "Handsome?"

The word tumbled from his muzzle in a wet chuckle, amber eyes narrowing with feral amusement as he hoisted her effortlessly to her feet. She was more than a little intimidated with how easily he helped her up, but she attempted to keep their interaction pleasant. "Right. That's a good thing. Your name is... nice."

His nostrils flared as he inhaled her scent again, gaze lingering on the silver crow brooch she wore on her shoulder. She suddenly realized that the predatory tension hasn't vanished, but it coiled differently... calculating... possessive, perhaps? The werewolf's gaze traced the curve of her throat in an unsettling way as his muzzle opened again, teeth prominent in the moonligt as he carefully enunciated "Black-Moss... strong name. For strong things."

Mariah paused, mindful to gauge her words at fear of inadvertently offending the creature. "Right... strong. You're very strong."

His face drew nearer to hers, words emerging slowly and stiffly from his muzzle. "Night in woods. Small things die here." His paw closed around her hand, not enough to hurt but enough to trap her in place like a moth beneath glass. "Mariah... small thing lost in dark woods."

Mariah let his words settle in; it could have been a threat, but she didn't read it that way. Caught between caution and curiosity, her voice moved faster than her mind as she spoke up a comment she heard her father use once as a joke. "I'm not lost... I just don't know where I am."

Black-Moss released a barking laugh-- a harsh, guttural sound that shook droplets from his muzzle. "Not lost?" His amber eyes sharpened with predatory amusement as he leaned closer, the heat of his breath coming out as powerful, visible blasts in the chilled air. "Woods know truth." One of his foot paws traceed an idle circle in the mud near her boot, carving deep grooves. "Smell fear on you. Hear heart race."

She fought to come up with a resposne that wouldn't make her sound like prey. "I'm... just... not used to holding hands with a werewolf."

His grip on her wrist loosened slightly, but his close presence remained a cage of musk and animalistic intent. "Mariah is clever thing. Words like shiny stones."

It was a comparison that somewhat made sense to her, but she chose to let it sit as she focused on seeing if she could get information from him. "I used to live in the town a short distance that way, but I'm leaving. Do you know where the nearest path is out of the forest? I... thought I heard that the forest ends less than two days east."

Black-Moss' ears flattened against his skull as her words hang in the frigid air. A low snarl rumbled deep in his chest, not directed at her, but at the horizon beyond the tangled canopy. "Path east?" His voice ground like stones in a landslide, claws flexing unconsciously as he stared into the deepening gloom. "Dead lands there. Marsh that drinks bones."

He shifted his massive weight, shaking droplets from his fur as his amber eyes lock onto hers with unsettling intensity. "Two suns? No. Squirrel chatter. Raven caws." His muzzle wrinkled, baring yellowed teeth in what might have been contempt. "Woods stretch farther than human dreams. Only paths here..." He gestured with a claw toward the labyrinth of ancient oaks and thorn-choked gullies, "...belong to things that hunt."

The possessive grip on her wrist tightend almost imperceptibly, his wet fur scent sharpening with something... Primal? Territorial? His answer made her pause, wondering if she'd made a mistake leaving home. "I know there are other villages other than where I come from.... do you know where any are?"

Black-Moss's grip abruptly loosend as her words hung between then, his amber eyes narrowing into slits. A low, bitter chuff escaped his muzzle-- wet and ragged, like stones dragged through mud. "Villages?" His claws twitch at the word, tracing invisible scars across his own furred chest. "Stone nests full of iron smells and shouting."

She couldn't really argue with his description. "Like where I'm from... yes... but humans don't live very well outside of towns."

He leaned closer, the heat radiating off his body like a banked forge, nostrils flaring as he surely inhaled the desperation she was so fervently trying not to exude. "Last one close burned when winter frost cracked the river. Now only bones growe there. You run from one human den... to find another?"

The question rumbled with something between pity, contempt, and frustration, his ears flattening against his skull as a distant owl shriekd; it sounded like splintering bone in the dark. For a heartbeat, the forest seemed to hold its breath; the werewolf didn't move to stop Mariah, but his stillness felts like a wall of thorns-- like she would end up hurt if she moved incorrectly aroudn him.

She has a hard time trying to think of what to explain to Black Moss and, in the end, she chooses to keep it simple. "I couldn't stay at my old village... and living in the woods without shelter isn't safe..."

Black-Moss's tail twitched like a cracked whip at her confession, his amber gaze sharpening as moonlight glinted off wet fangs. "Shelter?" He snorted derisively. "Woods are shelter for things that belong. Mariah needs to belong, then she have shelter."

The werewolf obviously had a different way of reasoning, but it wasn't wholly illogical-- just nto helpful. "Well... like you said: I'm from a human den... lots of noise, and iron-smell... right?"

Slowly, deliberately, he rose to his full height, towering over the young woman like a storm-carved monolith, and swept a claw toward the ink-black thicket. "Den close. Warm earth. No iron-smell."

His nostrils flared as he inhaled the damp chill clinging to her cloak, the musk of his own fur thickening the air between them. Without waiting for reply, he turned and padded deeper into the undergrowth, shoulders rippling beneath matted fur. His silence wasn't an invitation; it felt more like a test. The path he took wove between thorn-choked elms, vanishing into shadows that swallow sound whole.

As her strange companion's form threatened to disappear entirely she realized that, before long, she would be standingd alone in the clearing, mud cold beneath her boots, the weight of his unspoken challenge hanging heavier than the dismissive words her parents threw at her as she left them forever. She lingered for a moment longer, very nearly until Black-Moss disappeared but

, when she realized the alternative was being alone, she followed after him at a near-run, keeping her arms close to herself as thorny bracken tore at her cloak like desperate fingers.

Ahead of her, Black Moss didn't slow or even seem to acknowledge her pursuit; his massive silhouette flowed through the gloom with predatory grace. Fighting to keep up, Mariah let out a cry of surprise when she stumbled over a gnarled root but, before she collided with the ground, a clawed paw materialized out of the shadows, catching her elbow with bruising force before her face hit the rotting leaves on the forest floor. His voice rumbled, the vibrating traveling up her arm as he steadied her. "Slow steps."

The werewolf's amber eyes briefly stared into her's in the near-darkness. Without releasing her arm, he resumed walking, half-figuratively, half-literally dragging her deeper into a gully choked with ferns and the skeletal remains of lightning-struck pines. The path vanished entirely at that point, only the press of his guiding grip and the rhythmic crunch of his paws on damp earth marked the way forward. Ahead of them, the earth sloped sharply downward, revealing a shadowed crevice beneath an overhang of moss-draped granite: a dark maw exhaling the scent of warm, dry soil and something feral... musky. Black Moss halted at its entrance, nostrils flaring as he scanned the gully behind the two of them one last time, then shoved her unceremoniously inside through the curtain of moss.

The den's interior was spacious compared to what Mariah would have guessed but, once Black Moss joined her inside it felt almost cramped, the ceiling was high enough that she could stand up but low enough that Black-Moss had to hunch, the walls packed earth studded with ancient roots. A shallow depression lined with dried bracken and tufts of black fur looked almost like an oversized nest. The werewolf blocked the entrance with his bulk, turning to face the young woman, the dim moonlight filtering in through the moss caught the yellow of his teeth as he stared at her as if waiting for her to do or say something.

She took a moment to figure out what and, in the end, she settled on asking him a question that had an obvious answer. "Is this... your home?"

Black-Moss let out a low, rumbling chuckle that vibrated through the packed earth beneath her boots�a sound like stones tumbling in a landslide. His amber eyes swept the cramped den, claws scraping absently against a root protruding from the wall. ""Home? This is den. Sleeping place."

She shifted her weight from one foot to the other; although it was bestial at worst and primitive at best, she had to admit that it was warmer than outside. "It's... quaint."

He nudged the bracken nest with a massive paw, sending dried ferns swirling in the stale air. The tension coiled tighter in her chest as he turned fully toward her, his wet-fur scent flooding the confined space. "Tonight... shelter for Mariah too."

He didn't move from the entrance, his silhouette blocking the errant silver rays of moonlight, leaving her swallowed by the musk-heavy dark and the weight of his statement. She wasn't sure what to expect by following a creature back to its den, but she knew she shouldn't have been surprised. Realizing she was at his mercy, she knew the least she could do was to be grateful. "It looks... dry... and warm... and... and cozy. It should be more than enough.... thank you."

Black-Moss' ears lowered flatly at her trembling gratitude, a wet snort escaping his muzzle as he shifted his bulk against the den entrance. "Enough?" The word rumbleed like landslide debris, his claws digging unconsciously into the earth wall beside him. The wolfman's amber gaze settled on her face with unnerving intensity. The bracken-lined nest-like depression remained untouched, radiating dry warmth that clashed with the chill clinging to her skin. He didn't invite her toward it; instead, his silence became its own demand: a feral threshold between offered shelter and claimed territory.

Realizing what parts of the den were for what, even in the near-darkness, Mariah knew that there was no such thing as furniture in the wild and so she doffed her cloak, moving to rest it in the depression like a too-thin mattress. At that point she slowly laid down, having to come to terms with the fact that she could either have it to separate her from the ground, or as a blanket, but not both. Even with the den warmer than the ambient temperature outside, the idea of not having a blanket bothered her due to the cold night air... but she would endure.

What she expected to be an uncomfortable experience didn't fail her expectations, but she was surprised her when the faint herbal scent of dried ferns mingled with the pervasive musk of Black-Moss's den and combined into something almost pleasant. The wool cloak offered scant insulation against the packed earth's chill, and she instinctively curled tight, knees drawn to her chest. From her position she could hear Black-Moss still lingering near the entrance and, based on the long, dark shadows, his silhouette continued to blot out the faint lines of moonlight that managed to poke through the hanging moss. Ultimately he spoke up. "Mariah shivers loud."

Without further comment Black Moss padded over; she was able to track every single step he made by sound alone, but his weight made it easy to also feel his location due to the vibrations in the ground. His massive form displaced the cold air, immediately doubling the scent of wet fur and damp soil. He nudgeed aside her makeshift bedding with a scarred paw, exposing the deeper layer of leaves and moss, then collapsed beside her. Despite her surprise at the enormous creature's closeness his fur radiated heat like banked coals. His flank pressed flush against her back, pinning her cloak beneath his weight. She was stuck in a swirling dichotomy of cold air against her face while searing warmth bled through the fabric of her blouse from behind.

She said nothing, but was doubly surprised when he rolled over, his muzzle coming to rest against the back of her head. When he spoke, the vibration of his voice traveled down her spine. "Small thing trembles like winter leaf."

Although his presence concerned her at first, Mariah eventually began to melt into him from the side, his massive body working better than the curbed hearth at home for heat and, before long, she found herself drawn more to him than to her cloak. "You're... so warm..."

His breath steamed against her neck slowly... rhythmically. Black Moss didn't seem to mind her proximity; his arm hooked loosely over her hip, not restraining, yet impossible to shift against, and the low, rumbling hum deepened as her back pressed against the fur of his chest, the vibration resonating through her bones like the purr of a great furnace. His flank shifted incrementally, accommodating her movement and his body heat seeped through the back of her tunic and britches, banishing the chill faster than any hearthstone ever could.

The fur against her back felt dense and insulating, carrying the scent of damp earth and pine resin rather than just animal musk once that stillness has settled over them both. It took so long for him to respond to her half-focused comment that she'd almost forgotten she'd spoken, but she was reminded when his words, thick with graveled breath came out as a hot blast against her neck. "Warth... is life."

Mariah felt his paw on her hip, pads pressing gently against her waist. She glanced down, just enough moonlight filtering through the den entrance to illuminate the claws held out of the way to avoid harming her, and the almost fanciful motes of dust dancing in the heat rising from their joined bodies. Despite her many concerns of being in the wild, the unconventional shelter to which she had access, and the beast with whom she shared it, the trials and tribulations of the day, coupled with the deep exhaustion from her journey through the forest finally overwhelmed her vigilance, her body sinking into Black Moss' furnace-like warmth.

His steady heartbeat thudded against her spine-- a primal drumbeat syncing with her own slowing pulse as sleep pulled her under like a drowning tide. Mariah came to, half-awake one times during the night, once when the werewolf beside her pulling her flush against him as his muzzle burrowed into the nape of her neck. She drifted in the liminal space where dreams bleed into sensation, before returning to the blackness of slumber.

* * * * *

Mariah awakened in the early morning, warm beyond what she had thought possible before experiencing the den, only to find herself pinned beneath Black Moss. He wasn't crushing her, per se, but his bulk made it near impossible for her to move, and it was obvious that he had either slept all he needed, or elected to remain awake the entire night. She had heard stories of werewolves, but knew that there was a lot of falsity to old wives' tales. Glancing at the moss curtain which draped down from the mouth of the den, she almost smirked as she asked her 'host'. "Are... you going to become a man when the sun rises?"

Black Moss's amber eyes snapped open at her drowsy question, pupils contracting in the grey dawn light seeping through the den entrance. His muzzle wrinkled in a silent snarl-- not specifically at Mariah, or so it felt, but seemingly at the implication. "Black Moss is man. Has sheath and balls... not woman."

She had to fight back a laugh, not just at the crassness, but the simple misunderstanding. "I mean a Human. You're a werewolf, so you become a human when the sun rises... right, Black Moss?"

His arm tightened noticeably around her hip. "Human?" The word tore from his throat like splintered wood, hot breath washing over her cheek as he shifted his weight, his free claw digging shallow trenches in the packed earth beside her shoulder. "Sun rises... fur stays. Black Moss stays Black Moss."

She pressed her question. "So... you'll always be a wolfman?"

His claws extended like fully-black daggers scoring deep furrows in the packed earth beside her head while he stated with primal finality. "Not wolf. Not human. Am Black Moss. Just Black Moss. Man. And you: Mariah. Woman. Very simple."

The dawn light creeping into the den glinted off his yellowed fangs, illuminating the raw hunger in his gaze. His hindquarters shifted against her thighs, fur brushing skin through torn fabric, while his forepaws cageed hrt shoulders-- not attacking, but demonstrating the effortless strength that rendered resistance meaningless. The musk of arousal thickened the air, musky and feral, as his muzzle burrowed into her hair with a possessive inhale.

Mariah wasn't so sheltered as to be oblivious as to what was happening, but wondered if perhaps she were mistaken. "Wait... what are you--?"

Black Moss's growl caused her to cut short her question off abruptly as she stammered, the tension in his muscles easing fractionally though his claws remain embedded in the earth beside her head. The Werewolf's amber eyes narrowed, intensely focused as he inhaled Mariah's scent deeply, the musk of arousal strong in her nose. He rumbled out the words, some punctuated by a faint line of saliva escaping his muzzle. "I stay... like I always. This shape. Always this shape. Is good shape. Strong shape."

His grip shifted subtly; no longer pinning her with crushing force, yet still rendering movement impossible-- a living cage of heat and scarred muscle. The rumble in his chest deepened into something primal and resonant as his hindquarters pressed flush against her thighs, leaving no ambiguity about his rigid arousal beneath coarse fur. He didn't advance further but his stillness felt like coiled lightning, waiting for some kind of reaction from Mariah.

She gave a start when she felt the firmness of his nakedness atop her. Until that moment she hadn't given his sex any thought... not until she felt his SEX pressed between their bodies, at least. "I..." she wasn't sure how to approach the issue. "I do not know what is proper among your people, Black Moss... but... men and women among my people are not usually so.... close to one another." She realized that it must have seemed like a silly sentiment since she didn't seem to have any trouble sleeping beside him, but she knew her responses needed to be carefully measured.

Black-Moss' low growl shifted into a wet, rumbling chuckle that vibrated through her pinned body as stammered about propriety. His muzzle dragged slowly along her jawline-- whiskers scraping skin before settling at her ear. His words washed across it with the heat of his breath. "Human 'proper'..." he took in a deep, sniffing breath right against the side of her head, "... smells like iron cages and fear-sweat."

His hips pressed deliberately against her thighs, his furred sheath jammed hard enough against her that she could feel the dimensions of its intimidating contents. When she didn't respond he dragged his tongue from the edge of her shoulder and up her collarbone. "Woods have different rules. Warmth shared... life shared." The possessive rumble deepened as he inhaled her scent again, lingering on the spot of her neck where her pulse hammered beneath her skin. "Your people? Gone with dawn smoke." His paw slid higher up her hip, callused pads rough against her body not-- forcing, but anchoring her against the undeniable, iron-clad reality of his claim. He was saying without words that she was his.

Despite his clumsy paws Mariah could tell that he was in the process of removing the only thing that kept her flesh from feeling his fur; he was starting to undress her and the obvious firmness of his maleness against her trousers left no doubt in her mind what he sought. Despite that realization, she pressed onward as if she was mistaken-- she knew if he wanted something there was no way she could stop him from getting it. "What... are you doing?"

Black-Moss' claws froze mid-motion at her hesitant question, the coarse pads of his paw still pressed against the fabric of her trousers. His amber eyes locked onto Mariah's, predatory focus sharpening as a low, guttural growl built in his chest. The sound vibrated through the cramped den, rattling loose soil from the earthen walls. "Doing?" His muzzle wrinkled, saliva dripping onto her tunic as his breath gusted hot against her throat. "Claiming warmth."

The possessive rumble deepened into a territorial growl; as his other paw pinned the woman's shoulder with bruising pressure. "Moon-faded time... when dens hold mates." His claws resumed their work: not tearing, but methodically rending seams, the rigid heat beneath his belly fur pressing insistently against her thigh. He didn't hurry-- didn't force beyond the inevitable; each deliberate movement spoke of feral certainty as unyielding as ancient stone.

As Black Moss removed her clothing she was able to feel more of his fur-- unlike when she'd touched his outer coat or his paw, the fur of his underbelly and along his groin was almost silky and its fine texture was almost enough to distract her... until she felt the warm wetness at the tip of his sheath as he pressed his hips down against hers once again and she could clearly make out the firm outline of its contents against her thigh. She gasped. "You... mean to..."

Black Moss's muzzle curled into a feral approximation of a smile as Mariah's gasp hung in the dank air, his amber eyes gleaming with predatory understanding. He rasped the conclusion to her realization. "Mean to mate."

The words were thick and guttural as thick fur pressed flush against her bare hip, his sheath slick with musk against her thigh, the rigid length beneath unmistakable at that point. Black Moss' claws resumed their deliberate work on her trousers, rending seams with terrifying efficiency rather than tearing fabric, exposing skin to the cold den air and the scorching heat radiating from his groin fur. The rumble in his chest deepened into a possessive purr vibrating through her pinned body, his movements unhurried but inexorable as dawn's grey light crept across the earthen floor, illuminating motes of dust dancing in the charged space between her trapped form and his muscled bulk.

The werewolf's forepaw and his weight anchored her hip with bruising pressure-- not pain, but primal declaration as his hot breath blasted against her throat after each eager inhalation of her scent. She had no more luck trying to squirm out of his grasp than than if she'd been trapped beneath a carriage. She realized that, at any moment, his claws could rend flesh as easily as thread, which meant that she didn't dare truly try to struggle, but, as he finally severed the hem of her panties, bearing her womanhood to the cold air. Mariah gasped, letting out a sound to accompany it; the sound seemed to elicit a profound, bestial response from the werewolf.

Black Moss' low rumble deepened into a primal growl as her gasp echoes through the den-- a sound that sharpened his amber gaze like flint striking stone. His claws froze mid-motion, retracting slightly as the Human's squirming pressed her bare hip flush against the silken fur of his groin, where the heat radiating from his sheath practically seared her skin. His nostrils flared wildly at the mingled scents of her body's natural prey response and his musk-- a scent so strong even she could smell it... but he didn't advance further.

His muzzle dipped back to her throat, whiskers scraping Mariah's jawline as his long, broad tongue slid a languid stroke across her exposed throat. "Small thing trembles..." he rasped, hot breath steaming against her pulse point, the vibration of his growl resonating deep down through her ribs where his chest was pressed aginst her. His rigid length pulsed against her thigh, still sheathed but straining, as the damp fur there shifted against her exposed skin. His breath was controlled, but she could feel that he was taut with anticipation.

"Please..." she whimpered. "I... you can't." But, in that moment, she couldn't escape the quivering shake of her body. He was overwhelming, and fully in control of the situation. How much of her response was fear, and how much was... for some other reason? She began to doubt her own objection, and it was obvious that the werewolf did as well.

Black Moss' growl shifted into a wet, ragged sound as she felt warm droplets of precum contact with her exposed hip. The sound he made was part arousal, part territorial satisfaction. His muzzle pressed harder against her throat, inhaling her sharp gasp like smoke from a sacred fire while his forepaw slid up her pinned thigh with deliberate slowness. The claws were present but held aside to let his callused pads brush rough against her hip as his sheath pulsed against her bare skin, the rigid length beneath silken fur twitching in response to Mariah's tremors.

Although she couldn't have denied him, Black Moss didn't seem inclined to rush penetration; instead, his hips ground slowly against hers, coating her thigh in slick musk while his breath hitched-- a feral savoring of tension thick enough to choke the dawn light. The smooth fur of his belly slid against her exposed pelvis with each measured thrust, not claiming yet but painting her skin with the wet heat of his need, priming her flesh for what would come next as the den filled with the sour-sweet stench of his readiness.

Mariah squirmed anew, putting up less of a fight with her body than with her mind and losing both with the same amount of surety. She couldn't want it... not with a monster... a creature... a beast! ...could she? Even as she fought within her own mind with unfamiliar feelings, the squirming presseed bare skin deeper against Black-Moss's silken groin fur-- a futile struggle that only groud his slick, turgid length harder against her pelvis. He answered with a possessive rumble vibrating through her trapped body, his callused pads drag up her trembling thigh. When he spoke, his words had no question-- no request for clarity in them; they were full of inescapable fact. "Black Moss will mate Mariah."

He rasped the words against her collar bone, hot breath carrying the bestial musk of a beast deep in arousal. His hips rolled in a slow, deliberate circle-- still not penetrating, but continuing to spear precum across her flesh as his amber eyes lock onto hers, pupils dilated with primal certainty. The friction sparked unexpected heat low in her belly, a traitorous warmth that bloomed beneath the terror; Mariah's skin flushed where his fur tickled it with tantalizingly perfect measure. She whimpered. "No... please..."

He stilled abruptly, muzzle grazing her jawline as he inhaled the damp scent rising between their pressed bodies-- a silent testament to the lie unraveling in the woman's whimpers. His words were almost mirthful. "Say no? Fight truth? Body says yes."

Even as she squirmed beneath him any number of whispered words escaping her lying mouth, Mariah's traitorous hips did not lie and, as she moved, they flexed, presenting herself for a much clearer entrance by the member drawing wide lines of slick precum across her abdomen. "Black Moss..."

Black Moss' low growl caught in his throat as her hips arch upward-- an instinctive offering that silenced her whispered protests. His amber eyes flared with primal triumph, hips shifting side to side between her thighs, spreading them wider against the packed earth. "Body speaks true," he rasped, hot breath steaming against her jawline as the tip of his rigid length slid effortlessly into her slick folds.

Every muscle tightened as Mariah's body strained to meet him, ready to be claimed by the beast, but she was shocked to discover that he didn't bother thrusting, instead grinding the slick, pointed tip against her entrance in slow, possessive circles that left her nerves singing. The silky fur of his belly caressed her exposed pelvis with each deliberate rotation while his rumble vibrated through her core. It was a growl of approval acknowledging the wet heat welcoming him from within her trembling lips.

He paused there, sheath taut against her thigh, his muzzle buried in her hair as he inhaled the scent of her surrender mingling with dawn's chill. Without even being entered, Mariah shivered, her body quivering as she bit her lip hard enough to draw blood. To her shame, she felt a fresh warm cascade of fluid escape her opening, covering the head of his lupine member as her body responded in a near-explosive way to the pending understanding that he would claim her.

Unable to deny it any longer, Mariah's plea changes tone. "Please..." she finally gave in, no longer denying it. "Do it..."

The moment she surrender spilled into the chill air, Black-Moss's low growl shifted into a triumphant snarl, raw and guttural, before vanishing into absolute stillness. His amber eyes locked onto yours, pupils blown wide with primal certainty. His hips drove forward without warning, the pointed tip of his lupine length breaching her in one decisive, seamless thrust that slid through resistance and instinct alike.

Mariah arched her back as much as the little space between their bodies allowed, a gasping, wordless cry ripped from hrt throat as his rigid length burried fully inside her, stretching the woman impossibly wide with a searing fullness deeper than any human lover could possibly achieve. His claws dig into her hips, pinning her flush against the packed earth as he began to move; it wasn't frantic-- his were deliberate, piston-like thrusts that hammered against her womb with terrifying precision. Each withdrawal drug friction-fire through nerve endings; each penetration flooded her with scalding pressure that obliterated thought.

The smooth fur of his abdomen felt like a playful lover's hand caressing her pelvis, the rhythm unyielding as bedrock, while his rumbling growl vibrated through her core-- a feral cadence syncing with her ragged breaths. Black Moss didn't bother speaking after that. He didn't pause. At that point, it was wholly obvious that he planned on claiming her as her body convulsed around him in traitorous, shuddering waves that left her clawing at his scarred forearms, torn between agony and a shameful, dawning ecstasy.

* * * * *

Hours later, with the dappled morning sunlight streaming freely through the curtain of moss at the entrance to the den, Mariah laid with her back against Black Moss' chest a living mattress of scarred muscle and furred warmth. His knot was remained buried deeply within her, thick as a fist and pulsing rhythmically with each lazy contraction of his sheath. Warmth flooded her core with every soft jet of seed, the sensation oddly soothing despite the stretching ache that was slow to fade.

The werewolf's paw rested loosely across Mariah's waist-- not restraining, but anchoring as his muzzle burrowed into her hair with a contented rumble vibrating through her spine. The musk of sex and musky fur hung thick in the den's air, mingling with the herbal scent of crushed bracken beneath her tangled cloak. He shifted minutely, adjusting his bulk beneath her, the movement triggering another slow spill of seed that makes her exhausted muscles flutter involuntarily around him.

Mariah murmured softly, sliding her hand beneath his enormous paw that rested on her abdomen. They'd been intimate for over a month while she'd visiting him with some regularity. She didn't mind that he was a 'monster' in appearance; she loved him and, in his way, he seemed to love her... so much so that he played along with her little games of the helpless woman beset by an impossible beast. He often seemed to enjoy the roleplaying as much as she did, even if he didn't fully understand it. "Thank you for humoring me... I know it's silly."

Black Moss's paw shifted beneath her touch, callused pads brushing across her abdomen as he scooped up her hand. The werewolf nuzzled the side of her face, trying for the dozenth time to mimic a human kiss with his unwieldly muzzle; it wasn't a real kiss but she found it enjoyable nevertheless. His response to her statement emerged as a soft, rumbling whisper. "Silly? Humor? No... Packmates do. Den holds truth. Mariah here now, in den. Black Moss happy."

She rotated her hand so her palm could press against his paw pad and, slowy, she changed the angle of her wrist ever-so-slightly so she could thread her fingers into his. "I'm happy too, Black Moss."

He gave her a gentle squeeze, releasing a soft rumble of possessive satisfaction as his tail struck out a contented one-two beat against the ground. His knot pulsed softly within her, another warm spill of seed tickling her insides. His left paw swept across the crushed bracken beneath the two of them, a gesture encompassing the musk-soaked earth walls, the scattered shreds of her discarded clothing, and the entire microchosm of what amounted to the whole world to the two of them in that moment. He licked at the fading bite marks on her shoulder. "Mariah makes Black Moss Happy."

Her heart grew even warmer with his declaration and she let out a contented sigh, laying her head back against his chest. Life had been hard in her village-- almost impossible. Everyone there said that nobody could survive outside the walls but she'd long-since learned that she wouldn't be able to survive INSIDE them. It was time for her to tell him too. "I can't go home, Black Paw. My parents sent me away."

Black Moss' paw tightened faintly around her hand at the word 'home'. His muzzle lifted from her hair. "Sent away?" The rasp scraped like gravel over stone, his rumble deepening into a displeased thunder. His grip shifted subtly, sealing her flush against his chest. "What humans send into the woods, woods take... and keep." His arm squeezed her a little tighter. "Black Moss keep. Den is Mariah's home now."

Mariah paused at that, parsing out what it seemed like her companion was proposing. "You want me to stay here? With you?"

Black Moss' rumble shifted into a warm ascent, vibrating through hrt spine where she rested against his chest, his tail beating out another confirmation of his mood. His muzzle nudged her jawline. "Den holds warmth... more warmth with Mariah. Woods shelter what belongs. Mariah belongs."

There was something romantic about the simplicity of his statement. It was a solution she hadn't really considered; when she left home she figured she would be able to stay with Black Paw for the night and see if he would help lead her from the forest. There was a bitter-sweet consideration of saying goodbye to him but, if he wanted her to stay with him-- if what they had was more than just a silly girl learning about her body and a wild animal satisfying it's urges... "You'll really let me stay with you?

His enormous strength allowed him to bodily pick her up, rotating her around on his waist even as his knot remained stuck within her until she was seated on his lap, facing him. His amber gaze stared at hers with feral finality before he drew her back down against him and into a hug, enveloping her with his arms and silky chest fur. "Black Moss claims pack. Black Moss claims Mariah. Black Moss claims mate."

There was a feral finality in his words-- an unspoken invitation woven into territorial musk, shared breath, and the seeming endless pulse of his member within her, promising many many seasons to come. It was perfect.