I’d nearly forgotten the old man and my appointment with the tribe, as dogs tend to focus on the more immediate prospects in life. But of course when Master reminded me, calling me to his side and wrapping a blanket around me as I stood slowly, stretching and smiling, I remembered well enough. It was nearly sunset and the full moon was not yet rising, but it would come, large and yellow over the mountains and trees.
The Table Rock was a place near what passed as the only town on the reservation. We traveled a mile or two up a narrow path, winding between great pines that had stood for hundreds of years, leading upward to a clearing where a natural formation of rock had created a large, odd shaped platform on the red mountain soil. It was a natural place for meetings, away from the village and the trappings of even a simple people like the tribe had been in ages past.
There was a large fire burning in the center and some fifty people, perhaps more, were gathered around it loosely. Near the fire was a half circle of men, mostly old, but one or two younger faces as well. They dressed in the traditional clothing of their tribe: deer skin and animal hides, tanned and decorated and looking primal. There were a couple totems, big old tree trunks stretching into the night sky, carved with faces of animals and men, or maybe just half-men, half-beast faces staring down at us. It was sort of scary, but exciting as well as my senses were assaulted in every direction.
This was the Council, or so my Master told me, the elders of the tribe and the persons who would decide for themselves if Whitecloud was correct.
They were serious men, and silent and their skin had a reddish glow, like auras created from the fire in front of them. Children danced and sang and threw branches of dried pine needles onto the blaze so that it would cackle loudly and great clouds of sparks would fly into the dark sky. Shadows moved on the rocks and trees and it was confusing and beautiful and I felt my heart racing. It was a primal setting and every aspect seemed to call me to join. My ears were ringing and I licked my lips, sniffing the air and wishing my brothers were with me to enjoy it.
I howled without considering it, only hoping Bandy and the others could hear my voice. I slipped myself from under the blanket, letting it fall to the ground and I’ll confess that I had little thought of my Master, which was strange, but forgivable I think. There were voices inside me, sensations and desires and yearnings. I howled again, moving towards the fire, walking like a human woman, but behind me my shadow moved like a dog.
I danced with the children, growling and tilting my head towards the moan, voicing my great joy. The men chanted and women moved silently around us, bringing wood and water and meat for a feast. There were no speeches, no incantations or magical spells. No prayers but those we all sang together across the rhythmic beating of thin doeskin stretched tight upon the great and ancient hollow logs that ranged around us.
My voice was answered as a wolf heard my sound and answered. He was coming, he said, he would find me, and I continued my passionate cries until he was there, a large and wild animal from the uplands. His eyes glowed yellow and red and he lurked in the shadows, regarding the Indians with suspicion and fear. He gave sharp barks and his back bristled, the long silver and black hair around his shoulders and spine standing stiff as he bared his sharp fangs.
He could smell me, just as I could scent him as well. My sex was running wild at his approach, my arousal streaming down my thighs, glistening damp and cool in the evening air. I was close to the fire, moving slowly now, languid and cautious, upright at times and hunched over at others, and finally on my hands and knees. I arched my back, barking and calling him, the animal’s musk cutting through the smoke like a knife, filling my nostrils and bringing my blood to boil in my veins.
When he came at me, the wolf was quick, a dark and grey shape darting into the light of the fire. His body seemed much larger than mine, heavy with muscle and thick fur. His eyes were narrow and brightly glowing, and his jaws fell open so I could see his red tongue just before his shoulder hit me in the ribs, sending me sprawled onto my back. His jaws were at my throat, closing around my delicate neck as I lay there, defenseless and unmoving. I could feel the needle points of his teeth, the humidity in his breath. He straddled my body, growling softly as he held me, deciding if I was beast or human. Alive or dead.
The wolf’s mouth pulled away and his tongue raked across my left shoulder. I let out the breath I was holding, turning away my eyes and then my body, rolling over and getting on my hands and knees. He mounted me quickly then, wrapping his paws around my waist, pushing himself upright so that I groaned with the effort to support his weight. I felt his long sharp claws digging into my flesh and the smell of blood hit me, distinct and natural. I’d been cut deep on both sides and there was pain, but it was lost to the sudden penetration of the wolf’s penis as it slipped its sheath and stabbed inside me quickly.
He was large and thick and his cock felt like a knife drawn fresh from the forge, spearing into my belly through my sex. My body shook with the force of the animal’s thrusting, the tip of his cock driving up and in, over and over while the tribe around us went unheeded. I was lost to everything but the cock inside me, the heavy body of my new mate above me, and the brilliance of the fire before us. I stared into the flames, seeing the spirits dance and celebrate this union. I was Onijwa.
We mated for a long while, the wolf fucking me with long, deep and rapid strokes while I did my best to hold us up. I was cumming often and hard, and my arms and legs quivered with excitement and the strain of our exertions. Where my brothers were most often content to keep their front legs down when we joined, sharing the burden, my new companion was dominant and superior. He nipped at my shoulder, when I began to sag under his weight, drawing fresh blood and a spasm of raw pleasure from deep in my belly. He kept his forelegs locked tightly around me, squeezing my ribs while his hips moved, ramming the bone-like structure of his penis into the deepest parts of me.
I was blind, like staring into the sun, and the brilliance of the fire brought all manner of shapes and shadows into my mind. I pushed back, growling and grunting and howling as another orgasm took me. The wolf’s knot was large and the pain of its entrance seemed a birthing to my fevered sex. The swollen muscle pushed inside me finally and I felt hot tears on my cheeks and my mate’s breath was in my ear, his tongue lolling across my cheek. He was in me now and my cunt grew heavy and fat around him. The fucking was frantic, with short strokes coming so quickly that I found it impossible to breathe. I felt dizzy and ecstatic and desperate to feel his seed.
When the animal came it was with a deep, guttural howl of satisfaction and I joined him, our voices filling the night and telling all the world that we’d mated forever. There was little doubt in my mind that he was my Master now and I was his as surely as the moon would set and the sun rise. His sperm was hot, like a fire spreading in my belly and I savored it, my vagina contracting around him like a fist, pumping him with instinctive spasms of pleasure to draw as much of his seed into my womb as possible. None of it would escape, it was held safe and secure by the bulbous knot that locked us together.
We stayed like that for some time, until the wolf released me with his forelegs, turning so that he could stand facing away from me, guarding us as his cock continued to leak semen into my pussy. I kept my ass in the air, but lowered my head to cool stone beneath me, lying on my arms and breathing heavily. I’d grown wet with perspiration and my flushed body bore a dozen deep wounds from tooth and claw. There was no pain however, no sense of discomfort, even from the pressure of the animal’s bulging muscle in my sex. I felt only warmth and happiness and some small sense of satisfaction as well.
The wolf pulled free of me a while later, rousing me from my rest with a slight and uncomfortable ache as he tested our union and finally tugged himself loose. That empty feeling after one of the dogs pulled out was always strange and I instantly missed being stuffed with the wolf’s cock. There was a heavy flow of juices, his and mine, that poured from my gaping sex and washed down my thighs. The animal sniffed me for a moment, gave me a couple long and deep licks across my distended labia, and then glanced about nervously, as if suddenly remembering that he was out of place in the midst of all those people.
I sighed and reached between my legs, feeling my pussy plump and loose. I fingered myself slowly while new songs and new chants started. The wolf had disappeared, slipping back into the shadows from where he’d come and I felt slightly alone, a little out of place myself. My Master was there, my human Master, sitting with the council and talking, drinking something and smiling. Whatever any of them had expected, it seemed they were not disappointed with me and I was grateful for that much at least.
A young man spoke to me, his face dressed with blood red paint and feathers adorned his blck hair. I didn’t understand his words at first and he handed me a smooth wooden cup, holding it to my lips. The liquid inside was dark and there were soft pieces of something floating in it, like meat I thought at first, but after I took one of the spongy chunks into my mouth, I spit it into my hand and looked at it. It was a mushroom and the boy spoke again, urging me to eat it, and to swallow the remainder of the cup as well.
“I’m Red Crow,” he told me, perhaps in his own language, or possibly in English, I do not know.
I felt light and surrounded by a warm wind, as if I were flying all of a sudden.
“I’ll show you the way,” he said and with that I blinked and nodded and my head felt too heavy for my neck, so I looked down and closed my eyes, dreaming.
Sometime later an old woman, assisted by two younger girls, teenagers, led me to a place where they’d gathered water in plastic five gallon jugs. They washed me thoroughly, without speaking a word and I endured it easily. The water was warm enough, although the air was cold and made me shiver a little. They washed my body, my sex and feet, my face and hair, scrubbing me with woven cloth and handmade soap that smelled of apple blossoms. I was tired and I felt almost drunk, or like I was high on that ecstasy stuff I’d tried in Olympia. I was floating it seemed and when they wrapped me in a blanket and led me so I could lay near the fire, I was certain this was all a dream.
But it wasn’t. I woke up in a hut of some kind, perhaps a lodge or something, I wasn’t sure. It was still dark outside and I wanted to sleep more, but the old man, Whitecloud, was speaking to me in some language I didn’t understand. He was rubbing his thumbs across my face and down my neck and shoulders, leaving a trail of black ash. I sat there, not moving, ignoring the stares from the other men and the sounds of chants and drums from outside.
I watched as he pierced me finally, with a long thin bone needle, making me wince and whine like a frightened dog. It hurt, passing that needle through my hard nipples, which were swollen and dark. Some few drops of blood ran down my flesh and I had to fight the urge to jerk away from the man. In each of my nipples, just as the needle passed through, Whitecloud followed it with a small ring of bone, washed white and scrubbed clean. They’d been filed down to something resembling ivory earrings, perhaps an inch in diameter and no thicker than any normal hoop earrings I’d ever owned. Even so, my nipples screamed in protest and the small weight seemed heavy, although in truth it was hardly noticeable.
When he had finished I wore two rings through my nipples and the pain faded quickly, especially as a young Indian girl of 12 or 13 was right there to dab some sort of creamy ointment around the fresh holes in my body. I dimly remembered that she’d put the same stuff on the scratches and bites the wolf had given me after my bath. I felt nothing of those any more and I thanked the child with my eyes, but she wouldn’t smile and seemed to be afraid of me for some reason.
There was more body painting, this time in blood, although I didn’t know where or what it had come from. I could smell it though, the distinctive odor of a fresh kill and I suspected it was from a lamb probably, one of the animals they were preparing for the coming meal. I watched as the old man painted on my stomach and thighs, not using the pad of his finger, but rather the edge of his long fingernail, rather like the nib of a calligraphy pen. It was intricate and interesting, and if I had a thought to ask what it meant, I couldn’t bring myself to speak. I felt as if any sound I might make would be that of an animal.
When I finally did speak, it was as I expected. “Where is Red Crow?” I asked the medicine man, but he didn’t understand my slow bark, or soft growl. “He will show me the way…” I fell asleep then, dreaming of flying and crows flying crimson in the deep blue sky, and wherever they flew blood would fall to the earth like rain.
And I was a wolf, in my dream, sleek and hungry and unafraid, running after the blood, following the trail, sniffing the ground and howling in the night. I was running, always running, and silent like a shadow and urgent, feeling pain suddenly. In my belly, in my womb, I wasn’t sure. It hurt and I ran, trying to escape it, trying to follow Red Crow, who would show me the way. But I was tired, so tired, and it hurt to run, it hurt to breathe.
I was dying.