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Chapter 5: The Steppe

A smell fills the air that reeks of horses and sweat. Its far too faint for Hans to smell, but is just enough for Freja. Hans vision sharpens and a slight haze fills the air, he doesn't actively notice it but it turns to the sky paler blue.

“Somethings off human." Freja says the calm dropping from her voice.

Hans replies hushedly “I can feel it too. What does your nose tell you?" He asks as he reaches for his crossbow.

“It reeks of sweat and animals." She says quickly looking around for a weapon of her own.

Hans' face drops. “Say you prayers Freja. This may be our last day alive." He says with wide eyes.

“What do you mean?" Freja says shallowly.

“I'll tell you if we survive." He mumbles before pulling the wagon into a thicket of low, dense brush.

Hans shivers and climbs inside the wagon' storage area pushing aside some of the bags and boxes. He then pulls Freja inside the compartment, she resists and hesitates for a second but decides that whatever scares the human is certainly worth fearing. She sits next to the strange human, noting legitimate fear on his face, something she didn't see when he faced death itself. Hans takes a deep breath and tries to calm down. The image of a lance, saber, and bow fills his head. The black hair of the Scourge of the Gods. Rank after rank of reptiles of every shape and size, armies of Norse, Normae, Horselords, and the countless smaller peoples who rejected the black stallion.

Freja places a hand on Hans' shoulder hesitating for a second before she lets herself embrace the human. She does not know why she felt the compulsion to get close to the man but it seems right to her. “Tell me human, what happened here?" she asks, trying her best to be comforting.

“The Scourge's horde was shattered." He says staring at the wall.

“You fought here?" Freja asks

Hans thinks back to the battle, wincing at the memory. “Yes. We were heading south to meet with our southern

cousins, the Teuts, to help with what we thought was just a normal tribal confederacy." He answers, stopping abruptly.

“What happened?" Freja asks her curiosity getting the better of her.

Hans continues to stare at the ground, his mind racing about the three months he spent on the steppe. “I'd rather not say." He says.

With that Freja pulls back, letting Hans go. “How long are we going to wait here human?" She asks.

“Until the steppe people's leave or night falls. Whichever comes first." Hans answers.

“Do they not kill at night?" She asks.

“The Equis don't see well at night and so they spend them drunk." He says

“So we'll just sneak past them." Freja comments

“Hopefully." Hans follows.

The two wait in silence for a time before Hans has an idea. “If there ever was a time for a reading lesson it would be now." He tells Freja

“In the dark of a wagon?" Freja questions.

“We have a lantern." Hans raises.

“Perfect" She responds somewhat relieved.

Hans winces as he stands up, he thinks to himself “where might the lantern be?" and begins to search through the first bag he thinks it may be in. He digs down the bottom trying to find it but after another minute or so he determines that it is not in the large leather bag and thinks it may be in the wooden box next to it. Much to his surprise the lantern and its oil are right there at the top. He prepares the lantern and lights it with a flick. “Freja do you know where I put the book yesterday?" He asks while adjusting the burn knob on the lantern for a perfect low burn.

“I believe you put it by the pans yesterday." Freja answers casually.

A quick check yields results as right beside the pans, in front of the fire frame, the leather bound book sits. “Thanks Freja." Hans says before walking back over to the chest where the wolfess is sitting.

“Anytime human." She replies.

Hans opens the book the faint smell of parchment helping soothe his aching nerves. “That's such a pleasant smell." He remarks taking a deep breath

“To you." Freja replies scratching at her twitching nose.

“You have the alphabet down from yesterday?" Hans asks.

“Yes." Freja says before reciting the 30 letters of the alphabet, beginning with A and ending with Z as she was taught.

“Very good, now today I'll have you write them, and we'll see where we get after that." Hans

states.

Freja stares at the human. “I'm now learning to write too?" She says nodding her head.

“It's faster to learn both at once than either alone" Hans retorts. “And it's helpful to know how to write." he follows up with.

Freja's nose twitches and poins a claw at the human. “You reek of fear and anxiety human. The smell of hooves and bark aren't helping.

Hans gets up and begins to look for the fancy pen he'd bought, supposedly it was like a quill but the ink was on the inside. “I should've grabbed the journal and pen when I was up already" he gripes, feeling the movement in his still sore legs. He knows where it is but it's a pain to get to, especially when trying to be quiet. He slides aside one of the crates of food, wincing as he hears the grinding sound, while it's certainly more potent for Freja, she pays it little mind. After opening the crate underneath he grabs the box. The carved guild and religious symbols of the Vikur, a mercantile people from the western deserts.

Inside the box is the men, a fat metal tube about the size of a slim cigar. Beside it was a stack of loose paper bound with five ornate rings. It had cost him a fair amount but the alternative was only two silver and a copper less and far worse quality. He hold the box gently as one may hold a chick, and moves silently to sit beside Freja once more.

“Are we finally ready human?" Freja asks.

“That's Mister Woeda to you pupil" Hans says with faux pompousness.

“Pah 'Woeda', I'll call you Hans but I don't see a clan large enough to use tribe names." Freja protests.

“Last I checked wolves didn't read or write student." Hans remarks, the subtlety of his insult not lost on the wolfess. “Regardless, your first assignment is to write your own name."

“My name?" Freja asks rhetorically. “Fer-ae-a… No Fer-a-ja." She says to herself why trying to spell the name.

“Freja. Your name is that of the beauty spirit?" Hans prods trying to tie her pronunciations to her spellings. “Fre-ja"

“Yes." She says before writing out Pher-aie-a, then changes her mind and writes Friyia instead.

“It's F-R-E-J-A old Norse not modern." Hans corrects.

“There's an OLD Norse to learn too?" Freja gripes.

“Oh no, just many names and legends use some of the old words." Hans corrects.

“Why not just change the spelling?" Freja questions writing her own name, albeit it crudely. Freja, feels a slight smile at the base of her muzzle, an odd feeling of completion. Her own name, written for the first time, with her own paws.

“Good. Now, I want you to try writing some of the things around us down." Hans assigns before pointing at the floor of the wagon.

“Are you pointing at the wagon or the floor?" Freja asks nonchalantly.

“Floor."

“Ah." Freje responds before writing out Flor.

“Flo-or, two O's." Hans corrects and Freja gripes before rewriting the word properly. “Now, spell my name."

Freja fiddles with the pen for a moment, deciding on H-A-N-S, as Hans sounds like hands minus the d. “I think it's right." She whisper-calls to Hans.

Hans looks over the paper, content after seeing his name. “Good, now I want you to write down ten things in this wagon." He instructs

W-A-L, C-R-A-T-E, H-O-O-M-A-N. She pauses to look around doing her best to guess at the words. “That sideways bow? What's it called?" She asks.

“A Crossbow." Hans answers

She sounds out the next set of words in her head. C-R-O-S-B-O, P-A-N, S-P-I-T, B-O-T-L. She turns to look around once again sounding more things out in her head. B-O-O-K, P-E-N, S-E-L-I-N-G, B-A-G. “Done." She announces.

“You got half." Hans remarks.

“What did I get wrong human?" Freja demands, pointing a clawed finger at the letters on the parchment.

“Wall, Human, Crossbow, Bottle, and Ceiling." He answers. “The others you got right, try again on the others. Remember the sounds I taught you yesterday." He instructs.

While Freja gives re-writing the words a shot Hans peers out over the Steppe, a small band of Equis on their feathered mounts tending a herd of goats and cattle. Judging on their mane lengths they aren't old enough to be warriors. He breathes a sigh of relief.

Meanwhile Freja tries again. W-A-L-L, C-R-O-S-S-B-O, H-O-U-M-A-N, S-I-E-L-I-N-G, B-O-T-L-E. “I think I got it now." She announces.

Hans takes the paper from her, looking it over once again. “You got wall right, the others you're closer but not there yet. Good job, you're picking this up quickly." He praises.

Freja is a bit embarrassed as she smiles from the compliment. “Thanks."

“Now try again." Hans instructs.

Freja takes up the pen once more. Snow, Bow, Crossbow. The realization hit her that O makes a single sound that Bow. “Oh? Ow? Snow? Snow." She writes C-R-O-S-S-B-O-H, H-U-M-A-N, Bottle, and Ceiling. “I think I got it now" Freja announces once more.

“Ooh you're close." Hans says overlooking the paper. “Before you continue I'd like you to spell snow for me. You don't have to write it, just say the letters." Hans requests.

“Snow. S-N-O? S-N-O-H?" Freja says indecisively.

“To get the snOW sound you need a W not a H." Hans corrects.

“O-W is Ow O-H is Oh." Freja remarks while rewriting crossbow, this time correctly.

“That it may but it isn't changing much at all." Hans replies. “Well not in our lives at least. He corrects.

“Why do you know so much about language?" Freja asks while writing out Crossbow for the 4th and final time. “You know what nev-" Is all she can say before being cut off.

“My father fancied himself writer as much as he was a surgeon 'my son, if you cannot write you would be the first in our house since its founding. A failure of the highest degree'. So he paid a scribe to teach me history and language of the Norsefolk." Hans says in a lecture-like way.

“For a man who went mad he certainly tried his best to give you a good hand." Freja remarks, remembering how absent her father was during her upbringing, sure he was there, but he wasn't with the family often. “My father taught me only two things, the first being how to throw a spear the second was how to be quiet." She remarks loudly.

Hans' face drops and his scholarly look is replaced with an unbridled fear, he quickly looks out the open door to the inside and the small herding band of Equis' ears are standing straight up. “Freja. Give me my bow." He demands coldly.

Freja reluctantly hand the human his weapon, he rests it on his arm carefully watching over the now twelve or so Equis herdsmen. Their ears fall down, one brushes his hand through the air and the group goes back to its duties to their tribe. Hans quietly closes the door to the wagon and turns to Freja with fury in his eyes. “When I say quiet, I mean QUIET." Hans growls quietly

“We're safe now, aren't we?" Freja raises quietly.

“Maybe. they might come here out of boredom; they might be fleeing the Horselords or some other nomadic enemy. I don't know." Hans snaps.

Freja' eyes sharpen. “You know what human? I'm sick of your patronizing, you treat me like a child, a fool, but between the two of us you know only two things: humans and war. The latter of which you can't be part of anymore and the former you exiled yourself from. You reek of a male in heat and can barely stave off an unmated male of my own kind. You're revered as a warrior from what I can see, and yet you did it all out of anger. You're nothing worth respecting, not a teacher, not a veteran, not a man. You're a joke." Freja growls.

Hans' just stares at the wolfess, the insult seemed genuine enough. “And you are little better wolfess, the virgin warrior who couldn't save her chief when she had the chance who despite her foe being bloodied and broken and her having all the arrows and axe needed to stave him off, you cowered in fear before man. For someone rejected with the last breath of a dying man I wouldn't be so eager to insult." Hans growls looking up the wolfess, his eyes resting on her hips and breast. “Perhaps I keep you around as eye candy, a trophy." Hans finishes.

“Vile." Freja snaps back. “You had a bride-to-be and yet you look outside your own for kith and kin for your desires?" She asks rhetorically

Hans leans in close, catching Freja. “You want to talk about desires? You would choose your mate on feelings alone. Here's some wisdom well beyond my years “One day you'll find out the person in bed with you isn't the same one you married." You think my late love would recognize me in the slightest?" Hans says his lips inches from Freja's, fury in his eyes.

Freja leans in closer enough for Hans to smell her breath. “And you believe you can love anything so long as you choose to, could you love me? could you love anything other than a human?" Freja growls.

Hans in a moment of uncharacteristic brashness leans in closer. “Why don't we find out?" He asks leaning slowly closer.

“Wha-" Is Freja can say before Hans uses his hands to pull Freja into a kiss. Freja's eyes are wide open and her anger seems to convert to absolute shock. She tries to push back at the human, but after feeling Hans' tongue play with hers' for a few seconds she submits to it. Hans' mind is rather blank, purely running on instinct and residual lack of inhibition, but is snapped back to reality once he feels Freja's long tongue begin to feel around his mouth. He opens his eyes to see that Freja seemingly just as into the kiss as he was a few seconds ago. Both of them are equally unwilling to end their dance of tongues and lips, Freja finally tasting the forbidden fruit of male interests and Hans for loving every second of it.

The two sit there, their arms beginning to explore each other's backs, Han's hands coming to rest on Freja's hips and Freja's draped over Hans' shoulders. In the lamplight in the inside of the wagon the pair seem to meld into one another. Freja's heart pounds with anxiety of what's to come while Hans' mind races with how to handle this situation while enjoying every second of it. He feels Freja's hands begin to explore the area where his rope-belt kept his trousers bound to his waist.

Hans' own personal morality returns to him once he feels Freja's pawed hand brush his crotch through his pants. He pulls back breaking the protracted kiss. “No, not like this. I-I can't" he whispers to Freja.

Freja isn't listening, the heat has her by the heart and it yearns to mate. She finally undoes Hans' pants letting his erect manhood fling out from its binding and onto her nose. She takes a deep breath through her nose letting the purest smell of man fill her nose and mind. Her eyes flutter for a second. Hans' is paralyzed on the chest he's sitting on, he's nervous but unsure how to react.

Freja puts a pawed hand on Hans' manhood and another on his balls. Her long wet tongue droops from her mouth and inch or so from Hans' second head. Hans tries to cover himself up but Freja snarls like a dog having its bone stolen. “Stop Freja, this all too fast." Hans protests just before Freja's tongue touches the base of his dick and slowly drags upwards. The taste is euphoric to her. She looks up, her lust filled eyes stare up at the fearful ones of Hans and she snaps back to reality.

“By the gods…" She whimpers the taste of Hans' still on her tongue. Her heart sinks. “P-please d-don't hate me!" She pleads with the visibly unnerved Hans.

“I won't" Answers Hans much to Freja's relief. “This is your heat yes?" Hans tries to clarify pulling up his pants and double knotting his belt

Hans reaches for the book that's resting next to the pen and parchment next to him. “What are you doing?" Freja asks confused.

“Just sit next to me and try to read along." Hans requests, still shaky with nervous tremors.

Freja sits down next to Hans on the chest getting off her knees and presses herself close to the human unwittingly pressing her breasts onto his chest. “What story are we reading?" She asks the once again nervous Hans.

Hans looks down at the book. “The Legend of Keukath, the wild man." He answers.

Freja turns to Hans intentionally getting closer to him. “I've never heard this legend before." She states.

Hans pulls away. “You will now." He answers before starting to read aloud following the

words he's saying with his left finger. Freja does her best to whisper the words that Hans is reading off.

Freja begins to catch onto more and more of the words, finally hearing the word she's supposed to read really tied it together in her mind. She understands the story, for the most part, but the lingering smell of Hans drags her away from the book. As the excitement and fear drained from his mind so did his energy, he hadn't slept in nearly two days. Once he finishes he has Freja try to read the story herself. Freja tries her best to read it to Hans, and despite not really knowing how, she does a fine job, getting some of the words. Once Freja finishes her rendition of the story Hans lets out a long, tired yawn.

“Good job all things considered." Hans compliments, stretching. “I think I'm going to sleep, wake me up when night falls." he asks Freja before checking to see if the Equis are away from their bushy recluse. Deciding it's clear he climbs up into the tent thinking on whether or not to masterbate before sleep.

Freja decides to follow Hans up to the tent. Pausing for a second once she hears a slapping sound. She parts the fabric to find Hans with his manhood in his hand, shocked at Freja's arrival. “So, you're doing the whole “masturbate" thing too?" She asks, approaching Hans while beginning to lift her tunic off.

“I gave you one kiss, what's gotten into you?" Hans demands, moving to an upright position.

Freja cocks her head. “Love is a choice? I have now chosen to love you Hans, at least for my heat." She says throwing off the leather tunic and untying her bra. “I'm in heat, I get not wanting to mate, but we're companions now. Yes? So let me help you now and you can help me when you wake up." Freja suggests letting her breasts sway and tail wag, her mind drunk with the prospect of a male.

“No mating." Hans questions.

“No mating" Freja clarifies.

“Fine." Hans answers with confidence that doesn't match his doubts at all.

Hans rests against the half-wall of the tented top of the wagon, a mix of fear and duty fills his head as Freja rests a pawed hand on his manhood. She moves hand up to the glans and slowly back down much to Hans' confusion. “Can I use my mouth?" Freja asks, continuing to slowly stroke.

“Use what you like so long as it isn't your sex." Hans replies resting his head against the edge whether the tent meets the half-wall.

Hans shivers once he feels Freja's tongue begin to dance in circles around the base of his cock, he stares down at the wolfess, her long tongue drooping from her mouth. He stares at his lust filled partner, the same eagerness his late love had on that night at Otto's as she tried the same before she became ill. Freja's mind races with desire on an instinctive level; her mind wants to pleasure Hans in ways only a wolfess can. A way only she can. She pulls herself closer sliding a hand into her panties as leans deeper onto Hans.

She pauses for a second when her tongue presses against Hans hips his cock almost an inch down her throat. The smell is too much for her and she can feel her womb burning, longing to be filled.. She slides a single finger between the lips of her burning sex, letting the far more intense pleasures flill her body and mind and begins to move her mouth up and down, carefully making sure not to cut or scratch him with her teeth. She begins to work at a glack being heard every time for forces Hans' cock into her throat.

Hans is overcome by the sensations of the wolfess' tongue, throat, and mouth. Its' like oiled silk, the eagerness and seeming joy of his partner to please him just helped warm his heart. Hans puts a hand on her head and begins to guide her. The tent is filled with the quiet moans of Hans and the wet glacks as Freja falls deeper into her heat. Freja's fingers press into herself, she reaches orgasm once more, flooding her mind with bliss and lust.

Hans takes his hand off Freja's head letting her play with him at her speed. Every time Freja inhaled with Hans' member in her throat and finger between her legs she'd orgasm again. Soon she begins to taste salt on her tongue, and while she doesn't know what it is her body does. Hans shivers and pushes Freja off his member and in euphoric bliss, sprays his load over Freja's face, a drop landing on her nose. Freja reaches orgasm once more, this time far more

powerful than her previous ones, Her legs clench and begin to tremor rapidly. She looks up at Hans, seeing his half-awake smile, and bites her lip getting a taste of Hans' seed.

Hans' eyes flutter for a moment and his head once more falls back, he's obviously asleep. Freja sets him down gently onto the padded bedding of the floor of the tented area. She doesn't bother making herself modest before laying on top of Hans, letting her soft yet firm breasts rest on Hans' hard muscular chest. Her mind begins to race about what she just did and the more she thinks about it the more quickly her tail wags. She can still smell Hans on her fur, it's almost sweet despite its clearly musky scent. She places her legs over the sleeping man's thigh and begins to rub, letting her juices cover his leg.

She takes off Hans' shirt and curls up on it. “Mine. My male. My choice." She whispers before letting herself fall asleep.

Hans dreams of his early teenage years with his bride-to-be, the tomboyish blonde and himself being far timid than he is now. Freja dreams of playing with children, hers to be sure. Both are snapped awake by a call to the wagon.