All the others had just ran away, with little thought and no planning. The foxkins trail led me directly to an old abandoned fort. Her lingering scent carries hope and resolve. Fading scents from many bandits covered the area, all of them were familiar from just a few hours ago. I guess they had turned this into their hideout.

Following the foxkin's scent, I closed in on her, stalking my prey into it's lair. The trail ended in front of a old wooden door. She had found a defensible position. A room with stone walls to protect her back. That made sense. Leaning against the wall, I inhaled deeply, nose all but touching the door jamb. The scent of her fear was practically intoxicating. If the trace of moisture and moss in the air is any indication, she also has an escape route.

I whispered, "Clever girl," with a smile pulling at my lips. Then knocked loudly.

The foxkin shouted, "I left our valuables in the courtyard. Please, just take them! It's all yours. Just let me live."

My prey's voice carries a sweet little tremble that brought the world to life.

I snapped the lock and pushed the door open. I expected to find it blocked, but it opened easily. The foxkin cowered behind a massive ballista. It was already loaded, and aimed at the door. She yanked down on the release pin, and the ballista bolt slammed into me. Pain blossomed, and I yelped in surprise. Thankfully, it didn't pierce my scales, and was deflected to the side.

We both stared at the hole it left in the floor. The yard long bolt was deeply buried in solid stone. It had penetrated so deeply that I could only see the bolt when sparks and flashes of lightning popped and crackled off it in the darkness. I hadn't expected a siege weapon, especially one with such powerfully enchanted ammunition.

Almost as though we were actors in a play, we both looked up at the same time, and our eyes met. She crouched behind the ballista, and I stood in the doorway. Between us was an improvised barricade of furniture. A few feet away from her was an open trapdoor. Judging from the scent of moss and moisture coming from it, I presumed it was her escape route.

I couldn't help it.

I growled.

It was the deep rumbling growl of a primordial dragon.

Furniture rattled, and dust filled the air, as the room vibrated along with my growl. I placed one hand on each side of the door-frame, and shifted forms, shoving against the stone with my full strength. As always, my physical stats were multiplied many times over from shifting into [Dragon Form]. With an explosive crack, the wall split open. The foxkin froze, eyes wide with terror.

I ignored the crumbling stone bouncing off my hide.

"Such a smart little foxkin. That actually stung."

I rubbed the impact point with one massive clawed hand. It was hard to believe that she actually managed to hurt me.

The foxkin seemed to come back to herself, and darted for the trapdoor, but I was ready. Like a striking snake I lunged forward, and snapped her up in my jaws. Holding her carefully between my teeth, I gently and firmly trapped her against the roof of my mouth with my tongue. I carried her back to the courtyard.

My foxkins legs stuck out of my mouth, and she kicked and struggled, but we both knew she couldn't escape. When we arrived, I spat my foxkin onto the ground. Terrified, she tried to shrink away.

I growled in warning.

She settled down and stared up at me wide-eyed with a mixture of fear, helplessness, and defiance.

I shifted back into humanoid form, and pulled my foxkin to her feet.

"Don't move." I said, and slowly walked around her. For the first time, I had a chance to really examine one of the non-human, yet still humanoid races.

She was an anthropomorphic fox, not a woman with animal ears and a tail stuck to her.

Reddish-orange and white fur covered her, just like a classic red fox. She had large fox-like ears, and a beautiful bushy tail. Her facial features were a blend of human and fox, from her almost human eyes down to her long snout and black nose. Most of the rest of her looked mostly human, if you ignored all the fur, and her distinctly animal like feet.

She definitely wasn't an animal. She was a person.

A deep ragged scar ran from the center of her forehead, down the side of her snout, then cut back up along her cheek, and ended as a deep notch in her ear. It looked almost like someone had carved a large "V" into her face. One leg started between her eyes, and the other ended in her right ear.

Still, she was beautiful in her own way, and I looked forward to seeing the rest of her.

Silence hung in the air as I continued to circle, spiraling closer and closer to my foxkins trembling body with each pass. Her ears swiveled as she tracked my footsteps. The heady scent of fear grew stronger as the silence deepened. I finally stopped directly behind her back, invading my foxkin's personal space, almost close enough to touch.

My foxkin gasped when I reached around and ran a talon across her neck in an unmistakable threat that transcended cultures. My tail threaded up her side and wrapped around her throat. I caressed her face, and ran my fingers through her fur. Breathing deeply, I nuzzled her neck, reveling in each terrified whimper. Her scent was intoxicating, and her fur was incredible. Everywhere with short hair, like her cheek, felt soft and velvety. Places with longer hair, like the back of her neck, felt as smooth as silk.

[Content removed per request.]

Spoiler: Spoiler

Short version: This time, Ciarra has fun, but the Foxkin doesn't.

Ciarra knows the foxkin kinks and desires far more than the foxkin knows herself, and beings to shatter the foxkin's world.

The full scene is available here: https://storiesonline.net/s/20605:216105/chapter-5-ciarra-the-cold

[Continued scene...]

She watched me nervously. "What… what happens now?" she asked.

"Before we continue, tell me about yourself. Where were you born? How did you become a rogue with your agility? How did you become a bandit? Where did that scar come from?" I forced her to tell me her life's story. When she explained where her [Rogue] class came from, I laughed. She tried to lie several times, mostly out of embarrassment, but her scent always gave her away. She really hated admitting that she had prostituted herself for protection. Not just once, but repeatedly. Almost on a daily basis. I pointed out that she had no reason to feel ashamed. When the choice was between sex and death, it's not prostitution. It's survival.

She seemed to feel a little better, at least until I continued.

"Besides, I don't care who used your body before. When we finish, it will either be mine, or you will be dead. Either way, no one will ever touch you again without my permission."

Somehow she didn't seem to find that comforting.