Olly did not exactly know what he was doing. He had been fascinated by the crolachan girl since he saw her sewing on the ship. But up close, it was even stronger. She listened to what he told, mundane things of a city kid that had a little bit of luck regarding the circumstances of his birth. His grades have never been excellent, he had always been one of the smaller boys in his class and he had no impressive physique. But now she was holding his head and pulling it close into a deep, passionate kiss. She pulled him over to her, leaning back in the bushes. Now he was hovering above her, one hand supporting his weight, the other caressing her neck. All external things had been washed away by a flood that was filling him up completely, and it demanded to be led out again.

He never touched a crolachan before, now he ran his hands over her coat. Her fur was short and dense and exuded a dry and tart scent. Her mouth was a mystery; he could feel her fangs but it was as if she was scared of them herself, trying to protect him, while her claws were burying into the back of his head and neck in a firm hold.

Her eyes had taken on something mature and experienced when she talked to that unseen sprite and ignited the ember to a roaring flame, with just a single word in an ancient tongue. And as the dying flame had bathed her face in a warm light, her fur made her coruscate like a carefully crafted statue.

He continued to position himself over her, running his hand down the side of her body. He put a knee between her legs, then the other. He released his mouth from hers and ran his hands under her shirt. Her eyes were sucking in his gaze, her mouth opened softly in a welcoming call to his. She looked at him from a place deep within her and she desired him to join her there. Her hands were on his shoulders, holding his shirt, pulling him closer.

He took her knees, propped up her legs and spread them further. Then her face flashed into a visage of deep fright and aggression.

“NO!”

She hit him with the heel of her hand, straight in the chest, pushing him back with unexpected force.

She scurried away from him on her hands and butt, not daring to let him out of her gaze with her eyes full of vulnerability and tension.

“I’m sorry. I...” He realized what had just happened and tried to calm himself down. “I shouldn’t have...” He tried to put into words how he had wronged her. His loin’s greed disgusted him.

She inhaled and exhaled deeply a few times, calming herself down. “No, it’s not like that.”

She came back closer to him, bringing her face to his. She pushed him to the ground. Then she got on top of him.

“This will do.” She pressed her crotch onto his and ran her hands under his clothes. He sucked in air and tensed all his muscles against hers. She stretched her legs further apart, sinking deeper onto him.

“If you prefer it this way...” he said to her “...then it’s okay.”

Hidden by the bushes, but still hearing the talk and laughter from the campfires, they embraced each other, undressed each other, discovered each other. He tried to remember the things he had learned back on his twentieth name day, when his older brother had paid for a round in the brothel.

The woman there had been delicate; told and showed him many things he should pay attention to with women when the time came for him to be the experienced one. Now his head went blank. No experience or advice seemed to matter, all seemed so foreign and new, he wanted to dive into her, experience every nook and cranny of her body with every nook and cranny of his body.

“Is it your first time?” He asked her.

She nodded carefully.

“Are you sure you want to be up there then?”

"Yes.” she spoke with a determination in her voice that overwhelmed him. It seemed she just had said yes to everything, salivating at the mouth for what was to come. He was at her mercy, and there was nowhere else he’d ever want to be.

The moment came that nothing was left between them, no leather, no cloth. She winced with pain and ecstasy, then she followed the guidance of his hands on her hips as they were locked in a stepless dance.

She remained on top of him the entire time, even after all was done. They whispered affections to each other, as her fur and his arms kept them warm against the cold autumn air. They were covered in their blood. Hers on the crotch, his on the chest, from countless scratches and punctures. He had endured his pain as she had hers. He looked down her naked body. She was merely fifteen, he almost eight years older. Her body had not yet fully blossomed, almost boyish with only hints of femininity and fertility. But she radiated hungry determination and scarred carefulness at the same time, in the way she grabbed him, ran her soft fingertips over his body, pressed her legs against his side, inhaled his scent, tasted his skin.

She lay on his chest, listening to his heartbeat, and her smile kissed his heart ever so warm and her smell lingered in his nose, even long after they had gotten dressed and went back to the campfire as if nothing had happened. She sat with the scoutmaster and had casual conversations. He noticed her careful glances and the desire to hold her in his arms grew every time he did.

But he also noticed the glares of colonel Alivor. They had a disapproving and scolding tone to them. The professor had always regarded Olly as a diligent but underachieving student. Olly was lucky enough to get a position on the Vigilantia as it stood. Now the colonel looked at him with a sort of disgust in his eyes, what exactly disgusted the colonel so much, Olly did not know. Was it the girl’s age? Her race? Or just their lecherousness?

Nannade retired to her tent, which she shared with the colonel, and the round at the campfire grew colder. She had to get up much earlier, before sunrise, to scout ahead with lieutenant Ionna and her squad. He wondered whether he’d see her again. Their mission could turn dangerous, he had been too eager to forget this when she was with him, but now his heart weighed heavy.

He spoke little with his friends and colleagues, and when he finally went to sleep in the mage’s tent, worry and fear was with him. He started to feel a certain wrongness to what they did, feelings of guilt, disgust and shame.

When he woke up the next morning, the sun had already risen. In his hand he found a lock of dark red hair tied together with leather cord. It smelled dry and tart.