by Vylar Kaftan

Keloc nuzzled his mate’s throat, licking the sweet oil mixed with her sweat.  Underneath the honey masking-scent, she tasted like fear.  Duv whimpered, her black fur rough beneath his tongue.  She lay across the bedding, on her spine, bent slightly backwards to expose the weak place where her pelvic and ventral bone plates met.  She wore a red-orange cloth tied around her right top-leg–a new decoration she’d made just for tonight with tanyan-root dye.  On the wall above her head she had scratched a spiral–a fertility symbol, for good luck.

Neither of them had done this before.  Keloc was just as frightened as she was, but he hid it.  He closed his eyes and slowed his breathing.  In his mind he saw Duv bleeding to death, clutching her belly as her lifeblood streamed out between her paws.  The image had haunted him all day.  His eyes flew open and he glanced next to the bedding.  The clay medicine pot sat there, in easy reach, next to Duv’s dye-pots and weaving projects.  Keloc ran his tongue against the back of his fangs and looked at Duv.

“Are you ready?” he asked her.

Below him, his mate nuzzled his top-leg and stretched her mouth.  She spoke no words, but he sensed that she was willing.

He exposed his drill from its sheath.  The organ was gray-white bone, extending from his right top-leg about the length of three paws.  Its narrow tip widened gradually to the base against his skin.  The Sacred Spiral’s groove circled its length.  His blood rushed through his body and warmed him.  Blood-chemicals, Griz had told him, although he had forgotten the exact word the older male had used.  Keloc had seen his organ during adolescence, but had never used it to inspire life in a female.  At the sight of it, Duv’s eyelids flared, but she said nothing.
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