The roar of the crowd grew louder as the executioner's axe descended for the second time. The swift movement ended in a loud "THUNK" as the axe impaled itself on the wooden block, but not before it sliced through the victim's neck above it. The body spasmed for a few heartbeats, then slumped to the ground, blood spilling from the stump where the neck used to be. The severed reptilian head rolled, stopping some three feet away, facing the crowd who brayed in wild madness.

The executioner kicked the inert, scaly body away from the block with his bare foot. Two young canids stepped up to the platform and dragged the lifeless, elongated body away and into a cart lying just next to the platform, and dropped it on top of the other body just like it.

The executioner grabbed the head and, after spitting on it, tossed it into the cart. Another round of loud cheering filled the small town's square. "Bring in the last one," he said with the calmness of someone carrying out his usual job.

Today, however, he bristled with pleasure at his work, having ended the lives of two despicable snakes, with one more to go. He relished the feeling of power, the adulation of the crowd. He knew it was his day to shine in the eyes of the other townsfolk. Clad in only a red loincloth and mask, he paced fervently on the platform, parading his muscled, feline body for the screaming females to see. Blood rushed through his ears, and hardened his malehood. He encouraged the erection, and turned to face the crowd. There was a loud murmur of approval from the females. He knelt at one edge of the platform, just inches away from a young vixen, and lifted his loincloth. He grinned as the female gasped, almost salivating at the sight of his thick cock. He stroke her snout, and she nodded eagerly. The executioner smiled with glee, already relishing the number of young females like that vixen that he would bed, surely for weeks to come.

Only one soul did not join the crowd in their madness. One minute ago there had been two, and three before that. Vrekkaar had been powerless to prevent both deaths -- his hands were tied against his back, his lower, green and brown serpentine body also tied so he could not slither away, and his snout muzzled to prevent him from biting or spitting venom.

Vrekkaar had since long ceased to struggle against his bonds as the cold weather had sapped much of his strength. Still, it was not cold enough to kill him, unlike the day he and his friends had sought refuge from a snow storm with the same people that were about to execute him. What little strength he had left had left him as he witnessed the death of his friends. The one that had been killed just before him, Seken, had been the most painful to watch.

For the first time ever he had cursed his race's lack of eyelids. The warmbloods knew this, and several males had relished on forcing him to stare as his two companions died.

It was now his turn. The crowd cheered as the town mayor announced the execution of the tallest and strongest of the three snakes; the one who commanded the hellspawned troop who sought to corrupt their village. The venomous lie felt like a stake going through the snake's heart -- to infer that a gentle soul like Seken's could be capable of malice was beyond belief. But nobody had wanted to listen to them. No warmblood ever had sympathy for snakes.

At a nod from the executioner, two strong canines grabbed Vrekkaar by his armpits, then dragged him from the cart and onto the platform. The crowd roared, expecting him to struggle harder than his friends had done before. They jeered instead as the snake allowed himself to be dragged to where the executioner waited. Strangely, the jeering brought him a small dose of comfort. By being submissive, he defied the image the warmbloods had of his own race. It didn't matter much, though. He was just instants away from following his friends before, and it would not chance the perception they had for his kind.

Vrekkaar stared at the bloodstained block where moments before the lives of his two companions had ended. He gave a quick, mental prayer for their souls, begging the snake god to find him worthy of following them. He then lifted his head to look at the sky through slitted pupils, staring at the clouds, looking for a sign.

"Calling your gods, snake?" the executioner asked mockingly. "Better pray you don't end in the deepest hell, where all demons reside."

Vrekkaar said nothing. He had no comments, no final words to leave. Even if he did, he would had been unable to speak because of the muzzle. Being unable to speak had been more painful than knowing he was going to die. He wished his thoughts had been strong enough to reach Ssarh, his patron deity.

He turned to look at the two buff, canine warmbloods who stared angrily at him, ready to force the snake to lay his neck on the chopping block. Vrekkaar shook violently as they laid their hands on him. The crowd roared with delight, then jeered again, even louder, as Vrekkaar willingly rested his neck on the block, ready to die. He flicked his tongue twice, to draw in the faint scent from Seken's body that lingered on the block. Vrekkaar hissed loudly, and waited.

The executioner moved close to the block, his crotch inches away from Vrekkaar's face. The snake hissed in disgust, as once more the executioner's erection became plainly visible through the loincloth. The feline did a few mock thrusts towards Vrekkaar's face, rubbing his loincloth moist with precum on the snake's snout. The snake wished the warmbloods had cared enough to grant him a last request -- he would have impaled his fangs on the executioner's foul malehood. It was the warmblood's intolerance that had condemned his already hated kind to death, anyway.

The crowd became silent for an instant. The executioner smiled and slowly lifted his axe. The crowd roared, and he held it high for a few instants, driving them wilder.

The roar of the crowd pierced the snake's tormented soul. Fear washed all over his body, and he could not control himself as he pissed on the platform. A red haze suddenly clouded his eyes, as the world decelerated abruptly into extreme slow motion. Vrekkaar darted his eyes around madly, seeking desperately for a sign, anything that would bring some comfort to the last heartbeats of his life.

His eyes riveted onto the patch of clear sky ahead of him. He watched as the clouds swirled, until a shape suddenly became clear.

A cobra's head.

"Ssarh?!" Vrekkaar tried to shout, but the name choked on his throat.

Vrekkaar felt his heart accelerate almost ten times the normal rate. Faster than normal for even a warmblood. He tried to rationalize what his eyes had just seen. Surely he was already dead and he was staring directly into his god.

The executioner grunted as the axe began its final downward, fatal plunge.

Elders had said that the snake god never spoke, and Vrekkaar experience this as his god stared directly into his soul. Still, Ssarh's words were unmistakable. It was not Vrekkaar's time to die.

Vrekkaar jerked his head back and away from the block. He flinched as the axe nicked his snout, slicing at the ropes around it, before it hit the block just inches away from his snout. The executioner growled, furious at being cheated of what would had been a flawless execution. He pulled the axe from the block, and holding Vrekkaar's neck in a tight, vicious grip, he forced the snake to lie down, grinding his chin on the splintered wood. The two canines rushed forward, holding Vrekkaar in place. Vrekkaar hissed with anger and pain as he twisted and lurched, desperately trying to break free. The crowd brayed wildly,

"Hold still, you wretched reptile!!" the executioner growled. "I have yet to kill you!!"

"You will do so only if you want to follow him afterwards!" a loud voice shouted clearly over the noise of the crowd.

There was a loud clank as the axe fell downwards again, but this time from the executioner dropped it. Vrekkaar felt the canines' hold on him disappear. He lifted his head, turning to look at the clouds where he had seen Ssarh's face. There was nothing there -- just a normal cloud, without the least resemblance to a snake's head.

Vrekkar tensed, ready to fight for his life if need be. He noticed the loud, worried murmurs coming from the crowd, and turned to look at the executioner. The feline was obviously frozen with terror at something. Vrekkaar turned to look in the direction the feline was looking.

A large stagecoach had stopped. In front of it, two large horses snorted heavily and restlessly from having pulled the for what seemed a long stretch. Several mounted warmbloods flanked it, all quite muscular and heavily armored. The crowd parted hastily, making way for them and a caped figure that followed them.

Vrekkaar wasn't versed in warmblood customs, but he didn't need them to realize whoever had arrived was someone extremely important -- the crowd's reaction and the ornaments on the stagecoach had been more than evident. Perhaps some lord who got wind that snakes had been caught in his land and had arrived to witness the execution? He would be somewhat disappointed, Vrekkaar thought, having missed the other two before. But if so, what about the omen?

A warmblood rushed to the platform, a bull this time. Vrekkaar recognized him as the ruler of the villagers. The bull was clearly anxious and worried. Vrekkaar "looked" at him with his heat sensors; the bull showed bright red, his heart beating intensely. Just like prey that realizes the predator has sighted it.

The bull moved to meet the cloaked figure, who now raced the steps leading to the platform. "G-Governor Bron!" he stammered, trying to feign calmness. "W-welcome to our humble town, sir. What brings you this way?"

Vrekkaar stared at the approaching figure. He recognized it as one of the warmblood races called wolf. And from the bull's reaction, he was obviously someone of importance. Other than that, he had no idea who the warmblood was. He had never seen the wolf before and would not give a gnat's turd for his existence if his arrival had not spared Vrekkaar's life. For the moment.

"Spare me all the stupid formalities, mayor Grendam" the wolf said, somewhat scornfully. "You know there is nothing in this backward village that I would want, except for that what you are stupidly trying to destroy. I hope I am not too late to prevent some senseless tragedy."

"S-sir? What could you possibly need from these snakes that--?"

The wolf spoke firmly, as if stating an obvious fact. "They have been sent as envoys from their tribe. My guards and I were to escort them to my house."

The crowd gasped, the kind of reaction that conveys extreme surprise. Or, in two words, "we're screwed". Vrekkaar was also surprised, yet his reptilian features concealed his reaction. The wolf was flat out lying; no one among snakes ever had the slightest idea of his existence. Still, Vrekkaar knew better than call his bluff. It was obviously a ploy to save him and his friends. But why?

"I do not intend to stay in this outhouse you call "town" any more than I need to, mayor," the wolf continued, his voice denoting impatience. "I see one of them is here. Where are the others?"

"Well, sir, they... they --"

"Dead," Vrekkaar said in a firm, loud voice, just as he finished sliding off the ropes around his snout. "You were a few moments too late, Governor." He had decided to play the warmblood's game, for the moment. He had no idea what the wolf planned, but it had bought him more time on which to plan his escape, and kill anyone who got in his way if need be.

"He's lying, sir!" the Mayor stammered. "His friends escaped before --"

Bron growled, and crossed the remaining distance between him and the bull. The latter was taller and more muscular than the wolf, yet he was close to soiling himself as Bron pressed a clawed finger on his chest. He pointed at the blood-stained block and axe, then to Vrekkaar. "Perhaps you could explain why I see blood, and why the snake is bound. Surely against his will; I don't think you are into any kinks, mayor, much less have them in public." He snorted, looking at the executioner. "Unless your naked friend there indeed had fun with the snakes."

The executioner growled, insulted. He too towered over Bron, but one look from the wolf and he quickly stepped behind the mayor, who grunted in disgust.

"By the great mother! Sir, we caught these snakes in a shameful attempt to destroy our village with an obscene ritual! Our town was in danger!"

Bron lifted his finger to point at the crowd. "That is not what I have been informed, mayor Grendam. The snakes asked for help from your town, needing only a place to spend the night. Your local innkeeper thought he was being very generous to have them stay in a rather dilapidated basement. And as the snakes went on their own private affairs, without bothering anyone, your people attacked them, and you sentenced them to death. Am I right?"

Grendam swallowed hard, then turned to face Bron with some slight defiance. "I think my town has the right to defend itself to the best of its abilities, sir! Since it never seems that any of the governor's soldiers are ever in this area, we --"

Bron snapped. He bared his fangs, his ears pointing backwards as the hair on his neck bristled. "So... not only you lie to me, but you question my authority?!"

The Mayor remained silent, afraid to speak. The crowd gasped. Vrekkaar saw it was noticeably smaller, as several villagers had already scurried back into their holes, like the rodents he enjoyed swallowing.

"You stink of intolerance, mayor, though it's obvious you could also use a bath even more. Us sentient carnivores stopped killing herbivores for food a long time ago. But you keep messing up, and I will personally see that I and my staff take a short hiatus from it. Your body would provide for a nice feast back at my house." Bron bared his fangs again. "Do we understand each other, mayor Grendam?" he repeated in a stronger tone.

"Yes, sir," the bull said meekly.

"Thank you." Bron turned to look at Vrekkaar, and bowed. "I am sorry I did not arrive in time to save your friends. My deepest apologies... Vrekkaar, if I'm correct?"

The snake froze for a second, surprised that the wolf knew his name. Several thoughts raced through his mind, unable to make sense of any of them nor of the situation. Again, he kept his thoughts to himself, unwilling to speak much, lest he ruin the deceit the wolf had construed. "I place no blame on your house, governor."

Bron nodded. "Still, the laws in my territory have established that guilty parties must pay restitution for mistakes like this. As the only survivor, I decree this town must pay a hundred thousand golds to you."

The few remaining villagers still gasped, some of them wailed at the news. "Sir, you cannot be serious!" Grendam stammered. "Giving such a fortune to a... a snake!"

Bron smiled, showing his teeth slightly. "Are you questioning my authority again, mayor?"

The bull recoiled. "No, sir! But this village... is so small! I don't think our coffers have a quarter of what you ask!"

"Then you better make sure you find a way to collect the money. I don't care if you have to sell your ass for other people's pleasure, as long as you do it legally. And don't even think that you will shortchange the snake by even one copper. The crowd groaned, to which the wolf quickly added, "I have very good ears, mayor. If I find out that you overtaxed the villagers to come up for the money it will be your head that will rest on the execution block."

"Sir," Grendam said, distressed almost to the point of tears, "you ask too much of us."

"Then let it be your lesson about the price of injustice, mayor. But don't think that I am unfair. You have two months from this day to collect the money. That is, unless the envoy you were about to kill wants it now?"

Vrekkaar hissed. As a warmblood institution, money was worthless to his race, except to pay for bribes and to be left alone. It did not help to save the lives of his two friends, nor would it buy their lives back. He had more earthly desires; he was not about to let his friends' lifeless bodies be debased any more. And there was some something else...

"I only wish two things, governor. I want the bodies of my friends and their possessions to be brought with us for burial."

"It shall be done," Bron said. "And the second?"

Vrekkaar's yellow eyes stared deep into the executioner's, who was paralyzed with fear. He looked at the feline's loincloth, examining him with his heat sensors. His arousal was long gone. "Untie me, you bastard."

The executioner gulped, somewhat relieved that the snake didn't seem to hold that big of a grudge. His hands shook terribly, but he managed to loosen the bonds. Vrekkaar hissed with relief, rubbing his wrists to help the blood flow again to his numbed hands. He started to slither away... then suddenly sprang towards the feline. The snake's fangs pierced the loincloth, striking at the flesh underneath.

The executioner screamed as his genitals exploded in a flash of horrendous pain. Like a banshee intent on terrorizing the village, the loud wail resounded on every corner of the town. The last remaining spectators, along with the mayor, ran towards their homes in terror, leaving the executioner alone as he keeled over in agony.

Vrekkaar looked at the writhing warmblood. He spitted, as if having tasted some rotten food, then licked his fangs clean with his forked tongue. "Damn. I didn't have enough venom. I guess you'll have to suffer a bit rather than die."

Bron winced, his fingers curling as his whole body shuddered, not even wanting to imagine the pain. He turned to walk hastily back towards the stagecoach. "We have a long ride ahead of us, Vrekkaar. If you would please lead the way, we shall be gone now."

Vrekkaar nodded, and slithered towards the stagecoach. He sensed Bron's eyes on him; the snake did not feel threatened, but rather the wolf looked at him with some strange fascination at the snake's form of locomotion. The snake's sinuous body curved slightly as he slithered effortlessly and almost silently over the ground, as his upper body swayed subtly back and forth.

Vrekkaar noticed Bron's soldiers had loaded the corpses of his friends on the back of the stagecoach, and had kept guard over them. He was pleased to see the bodies had not been carelessly dumped, but were laid in a dignified manner. Their heads lied in between, perhaps out of respect, so as not to pair them with the wrong body.

Vrekkaar paused, holding each head with reverence and laying it on top of the severed neck of its respective body. Satisfied, he boarded the stagecoach, pulling his body upwards and sliding inside with the same effortless grace that he moved on the ground. Once inside, he moved to the rear, next to the bodies, and turned to look at Bron, who had boarded after him.

"If the governor doesn't mind, I would like to ride with my friends. In silence."

Bron nodded, and pointed to a rolled curtain to one side of the stagecoach. Vrekkaar unfurled it, thankful for the privacy it offered. He did not speak for the entire ride, his head on the chest of the one who in life had been Seken.

Vrekkaar remained immobile. Just as he had for the last few hours or so. As he had done every day for the last several days.

His eyes were fixed on the distant landscape, admiring the beauty and serenity of it. From far away the mountains capped with the "white death" seemed inviting, hardly the deadly trap that had killed many of his kind.

Closer to his location but still a few miles away was the city that Bron had described as the capital of his territory. Next to it, the placid waters of the lake were broken only by the wake of the ships that sailed to and from the port of the city down below. Bustling with loud activity, its importance and bustling life was drowned by the gentle spell that nature had cast around it. Even the mountains added to the tranquility.

It had been the perfect spot for a burial.

A month had passed since he had put the bodies of his former companions to rest, all by himself. Vrekkaar had been grateful for Bron's offer to send two of his aides to help, but Vrekkaar insisted on being left alone. He made two small markers with stones he had found around, and laid his friends' collars on the respective graves. Ever since he had come everyday to stand in between the two small piles of rocks and meditate.

The snake reached down to pick the collar on top of Seken's grave. He hissed softly as held in his three-fingered hand, caressing it softly. He stopped as his fingers touched the empty socket that once had housed a jewel. Holding it close to his chest, he chanted a short prayer, then turned to the other grave and bowed in respect to its occupant.

A faint drizzle started falling lazily around him. Perhaps the sky had been sympathetic to his pain. Vrekkaar looked up and offered another prayer, this time to his god. He put the collar down, then turned around and slithered towards the governor's mansion behind him.

The snake approached one of the side entrances, and the guards that had been keeping guard promptly stepped aside to let him in. By now every occupant, servant and guard in the house had learned to treat Vrekkaar like any other guest of the governor, yet Vrekkaar could still feel their uneasiness. He did not blame them; warmbloods had never felt comfortable around snakes. Some even found his reptilian smell strong and discomforting. Each member of the governor's staff and court knew better than to question the governor's judgement, however.

Vrekkaar hardly ever spoke to any of them, and they seemed relieved the snake kept to himself most of the time. Even Bron had a hard time trying to coax the snake to engage in casual conversation. The wolf did not seem to be in a rush, and had let Vrekkaar grieve for as long as the snake needed to.

Vrekkaar made his way slowly towards the bedroom he had occupied since his arrival. It was sparsely decorated, although that had not been the case before the snake moved in. Vrekkaar had thought the room was too crowded, its luxurious furniture a hindrance to his movements. He had pushed everything to one side of the room, preferring a large open area in front of the room's fireplace. Vrekkaar would just lie in front of it, his chin on the floor, sensing any vibrations from anyone approaching through the hallway, and raised his upper body in alert with the slightest noise. Guards and servants who walked by his room would find the snake standing upright, upper body swaying slightly, ever on guard.

Vrekkaar wished the door were still present; Bron had ordered it removed as Vrekkaar despised anything that even remotely insinuated confinement. That time, however, he felt the need to isolate himself from everyone. Despite the pain in his soul, a part of him asked for some way to release the tension. He had been reluctant so far, the pain too great to bring himself a release, feeling shame for having even entertained the thought. The memories were too pleasant and recent to be soiled.

Still, the need became too great. Cursing under his breath, he slithered towards the bed in a corner of the room, and out of view from anyone in the hall. So far he had refused to use the bed, repudiating it as something only warmbloods would need. He stared at a neatly folded sash that Bron had given him days before, and that was still lying on top of the bed, unused. Vrekkaar had refused to wear anything over his nude body. His race didn't have the same obsession for covering their bodies like warmbloods did, wearing only a collar and their weapons. He set the sash on the floor, then crawled on top of the bed and coiled his lower body, resting his head and chest on top, his back to the door.

Vrekkaar looked at his tailbase, and slowly began to rub it. He hissed softly, enjoying the sensation it brought. He let his mind wander, drifting slowly until he entered a light trance. He kept the rhythmic, gentle stroke of the area, slowly becoming more aroused. The area around bulged as his malehood started engorging, slowly emerging from its fold --

A female's voice sounded at the entrance. "Sir Vrekkaar?" A young vixen walked almost three steps inside the room. "Governor Bron requests your --"

Vrekkaar jumped as his trance was shattered by a loud, piercing scream. He instinctively jumped away from the bed and turned towards the entrance, hissing loudly as he bared his venom-dripping fangs. His mind clear, he gazed into the eyes of the terrified warmblood, still hissing at the intruder.

Outside in the hallway, several hurried steps grew louder. Within a few heartbeats a guard crossed the doorway, sword in hand, followed by another. The vixen rushed towards them as they stopped, puzzled.

"A snake!! A snake!! He killed sir Vrekkaar!!" the vixen squealed, terrified and distressed that the guards didn't rush to kill the monster.

Vrekkaar hissed again. "I am Vrekkaar!! If that is who they asked you to call," he said angrily at the vixen, who sought refuge behind one of the guards.

More steps and a rather distressed voice resounded in the hallway. "Oh, gods! How could I --" A rather portly female bear raced inside the room. Vrekkaar recognized her as Rondra, one of Bron's maids. She held onto the terrified vixen, then quickly turned to face the still hissing reptile.

"It -- it was my fault, sir Vrekkaar," Rhonda said, bowing slightly several times, her voice hurried. "She's new in the house; started today even. Governor Bron asked for your presence in his private study, and I... sent her to summon you, and... well, I forgot to tell her that --"

"Vrekkar is a snake, yes," he interrupted. "A large, naked, disgusting, warmblood eating snake! And you forgot?!"

"My most sincere apologies," Rhonda begged. "I --"

The snake hissed loudly, slowly slithering towards the warmbloods. "Well, now she knows. Now out! Everyone out of my room!"

Ronda bowed. Hugging the still terrified and confused vixen, she hurried outside the room, followed by the guards. Vrekkaar heard the vixen's voice coming down the hall, "Nobody said anything about a fucking, killer snake!!"

Vrekkaar's body spasmed with fury at the incident, at the prejudice against his kind, and at himself for being alive to live it. He slithered outside the room; perhaps seeing to whatever Bron wanted could help to get the incident out of his mind. He slithered silently and slowly towards the study, his senses receptive to the sounds and smells of the place.

Several guards and other staff walked past him in every direction, and he feigned a complete lack of interest in their presence. The burly guards continued their march without missing a beat; watching them through his heat sensors, however, revealed a slight increase in their body temperature as they reacted to his presence.

The other staff, especially those smaller than him, would retreat onto adjoining rooms where they would wait for him to slither past them. Or, if those were not available, they would turn around in haste. Some, overcome with fear, waited almost immobile for him to pass their eyes riveted on his unblinking ones.

Vrekkaar hissed. After several days, Bron was the only one totally unafraid of him. The snake was sure the governor had communicated everyone to treat him like any other important guest. Reality, however, moved down a different path.

He paused as he felt the steps of a rather small creature, moving hurriedly towards his direction. He had just started wondering who could it be when a very young warmblood came around the corner ahead, freezing immediately as his gaze met Vrekkaar's.

Vrekkaar eyed the warmblood, which looked like a miniature Bron. Probably a hatchling of his; he had no idea if the wolf was mated. He watched the wolfling breathe rapidly, his heartbeat also moving fast, both due to physical activity rather than fear. Vrekkaar stood motionless, not wanting to scare the wolfling, who sniffed the air in an attempt to identify a creature he had obviously never seen before. All the time the wolfling looked intently at him, his big round eyes brimming with wonder and curiosity.

"Hello," the young wolf finally said in a somewhat squeaky voice.

"Hello, young one."

The wolf took a few more valiant steps towards him. "I've never seen anyone who looks like you before. What are you?"

Vrekkaar smiled. If only grownups would retain that sense of wonder, his own race included. Thinking that his rather towering presence was intimidating to the young wolf, he lowered his head closer to the ground. "I am what your elders call a snake."

"I am a wolf," the child said, more confident. "My name's Kreni. What's yours?"

"Vrekkaar."

With a few, slow steps, the youngling finally bridged the remaining distance. The snake remained motionless as the little wolf extended a tiny hand to touch him. He pulled it away almost immediately, surprised.

"You feel cold! Were you out in the snow?"

"No, that's how my body always feels. Except when I've been under the sun too long."

The little wolf continued touching the scaly skin, surprised at how they overlapped, lifting a few to look underneath. "You don't have any fur. And your skin is so smooth. And..." The wolf gasped. "Your legs! What happened to them?"

"I don't have any. Snakes are born without them."

"You don't? But how do you walk?"

"Not like you do. I slide on the floor, like this." The snake slithered softly, making a complete circle around Kreni, who turned around to follow Vrekkaar, utterly fascinated.

"You use your long tail to walk?"

"No, everything you see is my body. My tail is quite short." He flicked the tip at the end quickly several times.

The wolfling giggled, then climbed on the snake's lower body. Vrekkaar hissed, a long, mellow sound that indicated laugher. He relished the sensation, something he had not felt that fateful night at the village. He started slithering again, continuing his way towards Bron's study, youngling in tow.

Kreni shrilled with laughter. "This is fun!! You could give rides to all the kids in the playground!" He paused. "Your kind has kids?"

"Yes, we do. But we are born from eggs, and after a few years we are fully grown."

"How come I've never seen other snakes at school?"

Vrekkaar paused, unsure how to continue. The wolf child was obviously oblivious to the deep hatred all warmbloods had towards snakes. His soul screamed to let the child know... to say what his elders were capable. He squelched the thought; no sense in telling that to a child. "Well... we live in another land, very far away. We tend to keep to ourselves."

"Why don't you move closer? I would like to have snakes to play with."

Just as Vrekkaar agonized over how to answer the inquisitive wolf's comments, a female wolf carrying a wooden bucket full of clean laundry suddenly turned around the corner ahead. Seeing Vrekkaar slithering towards him, she quickly turned to continue down another hallway.

"Mom, mom!" Kreni shrilled. "I found a new friend!"

The wolf froze in her tracks. Her eyes opened wide, gasping as she saw the youngling riding the snake. She dropped the bucket, spilling its contents.

"Oh, gods... Kreni!?"

Vrekkaar raised his upper body to look at her. For the first time in a long time, Vrekkaar felt extremely uneasy, and somewhat fearful. He had remained defiant at the village even to the very moment that would had been his death. Now he hoped his simple act of socializing with a child would not be misinterpreted.

"Please..." she said, her voice a mixture of anger and fear. "Let him go."

"Do not fear," Vrekkaar said calmly. "I have no intention to harm this child."

Kreni jumped excitedly, kicking Vrekkaar with his ankles like the rider of a beast urging it to go faster. He was oblivious to the tense situation, his snout sporting a large, toothy grin. "His name is Vrekkaar, and he is a snake!"

The female inched her way slowly towards them, her fur bristling. "I know, dear. Now come here."

"Awww, mom! I am having fun riding!"

"Kreni, come here now," the mother barked, "or I'll punish you for a week!"

Vrekkaar assumed a non-threatening posture, somewhat taken aback by her reaction. He twisted his upper body to grab Kreni, then lowered the wolf cub gently on the floor, patting him gently on the back to get him walking towards his mother. Kreni let out a soft bark of pain as his mother pulled him hard by the arm once he was within her reach. Seemingly satisfied her child was unharmed, she turned to look at Vrekkaar, her eyes full of hatred.

Vrekkaar slithered to one side of the hallway, lowering his head in a submissive posture. "I assure you, my intentions were benign. Your child was curious, and I was just answering his questions," he said, still trying to appear less terrifying to her.

"You have nothing to say that I cannot tell him truthfully," she said while holding Kreni close to her chest, turning her body to shield his eyes from looking at the snake. "My son won't be a plaything for hellspawned deviants like you."

Vrekkaar hissed, his upper body recoiling in surprise. He knew that physically she would be totally powerless against his strength, yet his natural venom felt insignificant against the venom that her words injected in his soul.

The female started walking away, leaving the basket and laundry where they had fallen. "I don't care if you are a guest of the governor. You stay away from him, or by the gods, I'll use your skin to clean the latrines."

He watched her run away, the youngling's voice trailing off, unsure what was going on. Vrekkaar waited until he was sure there was enough distance between them, and he hissed in loud anger. He grabbed the basket and, holding it within his coils, he squeezed it until it smashed into several pieces. Blood trickled as several splinters impaled under his scales, yet he ignored them, his physical pain drowned by his anger and the hurting of his mind.

Slithering over the once clean laundry, he moved as fast as he could towards the governor's study. This time he didn't stop for those in his way, not giving damn for whatever crossed the minds of those servants he knocked over in his haste.

He reached the entrance to his destination, and promptly crossed it. Hissing loudly, he scared another servant who was putting some victuals on a large table set up in the middle of the room. The servant dropped everything and darted away from the room as the snake opened his jaws wide, exposing his fangs.

Other than the servant who had left, no one else was in the room. Bron was nowhere to be seen. Vrekkaar turned to look at his surroundings. The room was fairly spacious; several bookcases were filled completely with tomes of different ages and sizes, their contents meaningless to the snake. Several sculptures and busts adorned the corners and on both sides to each of the four entrances to the room, representing different warmblood species. Except for two.

A few meters in front of the east entrance was a sculpture of a winged reptilian, posed as if jumping to take flight. Vrekkaar had heard stories as a hatchling about the dragoken, a species that supposedly lived in a vast empire on the western part of the continent. A march too long for snakes to do on their own, made impossible by the existence of warmblood territory in between. The two snakes who claimed to have been in contact with dragoken had said they were winged reptilians, scaly-skinned just as snakes were, but warmblooded. Certainly not the kind who would mind the plight of snakes.

Next to the dragoken was an image of Ssarh, the snake god. Vrekkaar slithered towards it, and immediately bowed to it in respect. He approached it slowly, examining the workmanship. He noticed it was the work of another snake. There were very few among his species that worked stone and clay to make objects of art. More surprising, how did Bron managed to acquire it?

The wolf's calm voice filled the room as if in response. "I bought it from an ancient member of your kind, Vrekkaar."

The snake turned to look at Bron, who had entered the room from the entrance opposite to where the snake had come from. He was clad in a silk robe that sported several draconian figures in flight. His fur was slightly wet, most surely after having gone for a swim in one of the mansion's pools.

"I cannot imagine anyone of my kind selling something to a warmblood. Much less an image of Ssarh."

"Are you familiar with a one-eyed snake of venerable age?"

Vrekkaar nodded. "Kerrivan. He lives in the pass near Hikat Lake. He would come into our territory often to show us his latest pieces." He turned to stare directly into Bron's eyes. "He lost an eye fighting a warmblood."

"Yes, I'm aware of it. He was very defensive when I approached his property; very reluctant to even accept me in his yard." Bron walked towards Vrekkaar, who had turned to look again at the sculpture. "But he backed down somewhat when I ordered my entourage to retreat one mile down the road. With my weapons. He was not a bad chap, once he and I got to know each other better. Although he had a weird sense of humor. That, or I just don't get snake jokes -- what is a tree... treegavia..."

Vrekkaar gurgled softly in laughter, smiling subtly. "Trah'keeva. And if he called you that... you don't really want to know." He touched the snake god sculpture, his fingers sliding down slowly, caressing the image. "I still doubt he would sell this to you."

"Ten thousand golds can make a person change his mind, be it snake or warmblood."

Vrekkaar hissed in disgust, annoyed someone could put a price on an effigy of his god. "I guess even a snake can sell his soul, if the price is right."

"He refused at first. But doesn't take long to realize warmblood money can sometimes help solve some problems." Bron smiled. "Although he made it clear he would get the hell out of his little home before I had the chance to alert any robbers. Not that I blame him."

Vrekkaar bowed again to the effigy, then turned to address Bron. "Of course. None of us would ever trust any warmblood."

"The sentiment's mutual. Other warmbloods besides me, that is," he quickly added. "It would help them shake that image if you stopped scaring the servants, Vrekkaar."

The snake slithered away from Bron. "I was just playing the part that everyone here expects me to do. They probably are wondering how long it will be before someone has to cut me open to retrieve your half-digested body."

Bron made a gesture of mock disgust. "Please, don't speak of such things before we have dinner."

"We?"

"Of course. I'm glad you decided to show up. Dinner is so boring when there is no one to talk to."

"I would imagine a person of your stature would be surrounded by people of society."

"Indeed. Although I rather be bored than having to hear Lady Gadeen's incessant babbling. I can't believe someone can use so many words to say so little. If everyone got charged for every word they spoke, all the wealth in the world would not be enough."

The snake looked at the dinning table. Though only one chair was present, it was obviously set up for two. He scoffed at all the luxurious ornaments, completely meaningless to someone who had led a completely austere life. Small bowls full of fruit and appetizers were arranged in a way meant for warm-blooded eyes, but again meaningless to him.

Vrekkaar's attention was drawn to two large plates in the middle of the table, each one in opposite sides. The one closest to him held a pair of steamy, featherless chickens. He flicked his tongue at one of them, then recoiled, somewhat disgusted at the thought of cooked meat. He slithered around the table and towards the opposite side, where more chickens could be found. Vrekkaar hissed with delight as he caught their scent with his tongue. These were not only uncooked, but were alive, albeit stunned.

"Sorry I don't offer you a seat, but I don't know what it is that you snakes do at a table." The wolf grabbed the chair and sat down in front of the plate with the roasted chickens. Making himself comfortable, he grabbed a plate, filling it with a portion of mashed potatoes. "I hope you don't mind if yours are stunned. I wasn't exactly looking forward to having feathers and chicken poop all over the table."

Vrekkaar stood motionless, as if completely uninterested in the food. "Thanks, but I'm sure you realize that, unlike your kind, I can fast for days."

"That I do," Bron said as he continued placing food on his plate. "But you have refused to eat ever since I brought you here. I had no idea when was the last time you ate, so I figured this could be a good occasion for you to have some, as well as us getting to have dinner together. I would be an awful host if I didn't offer you any, even if the guest spends days between meals.

"Apologies also for keeping you in the dark," the wolf continued. "I would had introduced myself properly a long time ago, but I thought it was best to give you some time alone to grieve the loss of your friends." He rose from the chair and extended his right hand in salute. "I am Bron, governor of this territory, though you already know that."

Vrekkaar stared at the wolf, not moving an inch. "As you know my name. I hope you understand if I do not correspond to your warmblood greeting."

"Don't blame you there," Bron said as he sat again to continue his meal. The wolf pulled a chicken leg and started eating, totally unfazed by the seemingly cold, reptilian eyes gazing him.

"Oh, you like your food cooked as well?" Bron asked, pointing at the roasted chickens. "I'll gladly have some brought for you. My kitchen has the best cooks in the whole territory, and even the neighboring ones."

Vrekkaar leaned forward, lowering his head until he looked directly into Bron's eyes, just like the snake had done with the wolfling. "What is it that you want?"

Bron's ears and eyes turned in the snake's direction. "I beg your pardon?"

"Don't feign ignorance to me. You lied to those villagers. My companions and I were only passing through your territory when we were forced to seek refuge from the cold in that accursed village. We had no knowledge of your existence, nor would we had given a shit if we did. So what is it in for you by saving a worthless snake's life?"

Bron smiled, his lips dripping with the sauce on which the birds had been roasting. "Far from worthless. And I see you don't go for small talk. Direct to the point; I like that." He continued eating. "Everyone in my territory knows me for my generous philanthropic acts. What makes you think I want anything?"

The snake slithered away from the table, still looking at Bron. "Because it all makes no sense. A prominent warmblood travels a long way from his home and risks getting his bluff called while he tries to save a hated enemy. And just for the sheer pleasure of it?"

"Our races are not at war, Vrekkaar. We are hardly enemies. Even if there is some deep animosity --"

"Hatred," Vrekkaar interrupted.

Bron exhaled somewhat forcefully. "Still, the answers you seek will have to wait for now." Bron extended his arms, moving a hand in an encompassing motion. "I'm sure you have an idea where you are now."

"Among prejudiced warmbloods who would had much preferred that the axe had fallen on my neck."

"Oh, please!" Bron laughed, coughing a bit as he choked slightly on his food. "They are just uncomfortable with your presence, that's all."

"Just like those villagers were?"

Bron lowered his snout. "My apologies. Unfortunately, almost everyone in my territory is not much different from the other warmbloods. Like those in the village, there are still a few 'barbarians' that need to have civilization bore inside their skulls."

"And how would you go about it?" Vrekkaar leaned his upper body against the table, and lifted his bloodied midsection. "By having their blood spilled there where you rule?"

"Oh, shit," The wolf jumped from his chair and ran to look at Vrekkaar. "How did this happen?"

"I lost my temper somewhat on the way here," the snake said nonchalantly. "Nothing to worry, other than a bucket one of your servants was carrying met an untimely end. Probably it was worth more than the lives of my friends."

"I wish you wouldn't say that," Bron said, somewhat annoyed as he walked towards a cabinet and opened it. Grabbing one jar and bandages, he hurried back towards Vrekkaar. The wolf opened it and poured the contents over the snake's wounds. Vrekkaar squirmed, and hissed menacingly at the wolf, who pointed a claw just inches away from the snake's snout. "Don't you give me that 'killer snake' routine. Now hold still."

Vrekkaar winced as Bron pulled all the splinters that he could find, then poured more alcohol, finally bandaging the snake. "You better start taking care of your skin. I didn't go through such deceit just so you can mutilate yourself."

Vrekkaar hissed. "Perhaps it would render my skin useless to those would rather use it to clean that disgusting place where your kind defecates, just for the crime of trying to be friendly to their offspring."

Bron growled, even more annoyed. "Is that so? Tell me who did it, and I'll pull their ears myself until they learn not to disobey me."

The snake coiled his lower body, resting the top half on top of it. "A snake is not worth punishing your servants."

"Excuse me, but I beg to differ. As long as I am governor of this territory, all of its constituents are to respect all sentient life."

Vrekkaar gave a loud, short hiss. "Either somebody didn't tell the inhabitants of that village under your rule, or your edict was never meant to include snakes."

Bron walked back to the table, and sat again on his chair. "I thought I would had made my point clear by now. Do you actually think I would go through a rather elaborate facade just so I could have you killed later?" He grabbed another piece of chicken. "I've known about snakes for years, Vrekkaar. Unlike the fear and hatred other warmbloods would show, I've felt a sense of wonder. And a desire to know more about your kind. Although my ultimate goal would be to have your race in my territory."

"Running a little low in slaves lately?"

"Far from it" Bron said, trying to ignore Vrekkaar's comments. "All the people in my territory are free. They farm their own lands, they thrive and prosper. Yours would be no different."

"Under what conditions?"

"Well, your allegiance, of course. And to join the territory and help for its needs, and defense."

"As the squadron that gets sent ahead to be killed while the others remain safe?"

"You're one cynical person, Vrekkaar."

The snake paused for a brief moment, somewhat taken aback. Not on being told about his behavior, but for the one word that sounded louder than the rest, and yet more gentle. Person. "It helps me... survive."

"I mean it when I said your kind would be no different," the wolf continued. "You would control your own land, and in exchange for some of the riches that your race could give to me, you would have the full protection of my soldiers. No exploitation there; if you were to fall on hard times I would waive part or all of it until you recovered."

Vrekkaar slithered back towards the table, and looked at Bron. "Why do this? Why do it for a race every warmblood despises?"

"Why not? Like I said, there's a lot to gain to have your kind under my fold. And we could set the other warmbloods on the path to tolerance, and then acceptance."

Vrekkaar lowered his proud stance somewhat, but still looked at the wolf with suspicion. "You lied to those villagers. How do I know you are not lying to me?"

"One has to lie sometimes if it's for a good cause. Sometimes a lie is all it takes to prevent others from rebelling."

"What for? You said your territory is one of prosperity."

"Indeed. But there are some outside parties that covet its riches. And even within my territory there is the occasional dysfunctional group who wants more than what they have. And some who, because of their own stupidity, manage to ruin their land. Like those villagers you encountered. I would not be surprised if right now someone out there is plotting to kill me. It doesn't matter if a benevolent ruler or a tyrant is leading a country. And snakes certainly would make excellent bodyguards."

"You are far too trusting. How do you know my kind won't be the one who kills you?" The snake propped his body on the table, until his face was extremely close to Bron's. He opened his jaws, exposing his fangs. "How do you know I won't even kill you right now? It would be so swift you would barely see me move."

Bron continued chewing calmly his food, completely unfazed. "If you really wanted to kill me, this conversation would had never taken place. You would had done so in the stagecoach on our way here from that village."

Vrekkaar slid back towards his side of the table, where he remained silent, becoming more perplexed at the warmblood who seemed able to read his mind like a book.

"I have an almost perfect record of good judgement and decisions," Bron continued. "That's what allowed me to take this territory to its current glory. I feel... no, I know, that welcoming your race won't be different. Of course, you understand it will take time and effort for prejudices to die among the other warmbloods. But with time, it will work for our mutual benefit.

"I am offering an invitation, Vrekkaar. You don't have to make a decision now. I know it is not easy for you to speak for your whole race. And I know you are still in pain over what happened. It is not easy to bury a lover."

The snake turned around almost instantaneously, facing the wolf. He flicked his tongue several times, his body tensing as if ready to attack. "How did you know? Hell, how did you know my name back in the village?!?"

"Like I said before, I will answer that in time." Bron grabbed another piece of chicken. "Why don't you visit the capital? I can give you some jewelry that would identify you as a highly regarded emissary of my household. Everyone would be under the obligation to serve and treat you with respect. You could have fun and buy anything you want, and they would send me the bill. Eat anything you want, too. Seems like you don't want anything now."

"It is the cold season. I would be easy target for your people."

"Not if I make arrangements to have my guards follow you."

"So it is they who stab me in the back?"

Bron dropped his fork noisily on his plate, looking at Vrekkaar while growling with annoyance. "Gods, Vrekkaar, I was born with lots of patience, but you sure are starting to wear it thin! I saved your life from that idiotic mayor! What could I possibly gain from having you killed right under my snout? If I wanted some cheap thrills, I would have just watched passively as you got beheaded. If you are going to accuse me of something, make it not being fast enough to save your companions!"

Vrekkaar turned to look away, his head lowered in shame. "My apologies for offending your house and hospitality. I... I'm not used to be treated like this. All my life the only thing I have expected from warmbloods has been scorn or death."

Bron sighed softly. "There is always a first time. I hope you let me be that first." He paused to look at the chickens on Vrekkaar's plate. "Your food is starting to regain its senses. I say if you really want it, you better eat it now while it's still easy to catch."

Vrekkaar nodded, and grabbed one of the chickens. Delighted to feel it struggle somewhat, he unhinged his jaws and proceeded to stuff it in his mouth, slowly swallowing it whole. It disappeared down his gullet, making his chest bulge somewhat as it continued its way into his stomach. Vrekkaar hissed as he felt it clucking. Smiling, he grabbed another.

Bron shivered at the sight, and fixed his eyes on his own meal. Still, he could not resist peeking at the snake with some morbid curiosity.

Vrekkaar fumed.

His right claw tapped anxiously the large golden necklace that covered the upper part of his chest. It was bad enough that Bron had forced him to wear the slightly heavy piece. The feel of the cold, metallic armor around his chest was discomforting, as were the leather straps that held it in place. The large, greenish jewel in front, however, helped to calm him somewhat. Snakes loved jewels.

Everything had been designed for his frame and body. It had been easy for Vrekkaar to stand completely still while measurements were taken; getting Bron's tailor not to shake with fear had been an entirely different situation.

He looked outside the stagecoach's window. The weather seemed to ask for a nice stroll to the city rather than riding in a stagecoach. But Bron had been quite adamant that the snake didn't go to the city unprotected, even if it was just a few miles away. Vrekkaar could understand the wolf's concern for his security, and thus had yielded so the wolf would not be so worried. But Vrekkaar still would had preferred to feel the ground with his skin.

The stagecoach covered the distance quite fast, however, which would give him more time to explore the city for whatever he wanted to do. Still, Vrekkaar wasn't exactly looking forward to the experience. He would be completely alone in a city of warmbloods, even if Bron's guards would be following him from a short distance.

"Doesn't take much for someone to strike a lonely target," he had told Bron a while back. "One does not have to be a snake to strike quickly."

"Eventually either you or another snake would have to venture alone," Bron had said. "And a group of snakes going into the city would be a much larger concern for the populace than a single one at this point."

His thoughts were interruped as the city's outer wall and gates came into view, just a few seconds of travel away. Vrekkaar's breathing quickened as his apprehension grew. Already he was seeing far more warmbloods than he felt comfortable having around. He let the stagecoach's curtains drop, hiding himself inside, as the bustle of the city grew louder, assaulting his ears.

One extremely long minute later, the stagecoach came to a complete halt. The driver thumped the roof of the stagecoach with his foot, signaling they had reached their destination. Vrekkaar agonized; he wanted to trust Bron, to think everything the wolf said would be true. Still, the thought of the events at the village still ran strong in his mind, and he found himself unable to step out at the sight of the crowds in the town square.

"Sir? Do you need help?" The stagecoach driver was outside, waiting to open the door.

Vrekkaar forced the fear deep inside his mind. He realized that his god had granted him a reprieve from death for a reason -- it was his obligation to make life better for snakes, rather than continue to hide from the warmbloods like scared lizards. He nervously rubbed a bracelet and collar. Garnering his courage, and before he could think it over, he swung the door open and slithered outside.

He almost recoiled with terror as he sensed uncountable pairs of eyes on him almost immediately. He stood motionless for a few seconds, forcing his pride and cockiness to drown the survival instinct that attempted to take control of his mind. Slowly, he started to slither, gracefully making his way through the scared crowd while careful not to bump into anyone.

A quick glance backwards revealed Bron's guards following at a discrete distance, just as the wolf had promised. Vrekkaar then focused his eyes on the plaza straight ahead, flicking his tongue occasionally to pick up smells. The murmurs reached his ears a few instants later.

"Gods... it's a snake!"

"Get the children to safety!"

"Did you see? It stepped out of the governor's stagecoach!"

"I heard rumors the governor had a snake for a guest!"

"Look! It's wearing the symbol of the governor's ambassador!"

Vrekkaar paused for an instant as he heard the last comment, and glanced at his collar. Bron had insisted that there would be nothing to worry about, but an ambassador? Vrekkaar made a note to speak with the wolf about it. He certainly was not in the mood to be given more rank and responsibilities than he was comfortable with.

The revelation reassured him, however. Slightly emboldened, Vrekkaar allowed himself to relax somewhat and admire the sight of the town square and the vendors who hawked their merchandise. The concept of "selling" was still somewhat alien to him; snakes acquired things they needed by trading with others of their own kind.

All the customers at every kiosk parted hastily to let the snake take a closer look. Vrekkaar did not care if it was because of fear or his newly found rank. He was somewhat fascinated by all kinds of merchandise, from what he thought was useful to trivial things for decoration and play. Some he could not make sense what they were. Nevertheless, everything was interesting.

He noticed a stand selling small jewelry and trinkets, and slithered right towards it. He noticed the merchant's reaction, and promptly lowered his body to appear less threatening. He bowed to him, then looked curiously at the merchandise.

The merchant looked at the snake with fear. The bear still towered over most of the other warmbloods, but his frail body and dull fur coat betrayed his advanced age. Vrekkaar nodded in respect before he began to examine the merchandise.

The bear made his way to the front of the kiosk; he paused for a while, seemingly hesitant to get the snake's attention. "Perhaps," he began in a soft, fearful voice, "the... noble sir would be interested in the store down the street. These are fake trinkets... not worth --"

"If so, they are very well made. They are indeed interesting, nevertheless."

"I assure you, sir," the bear continued. "Other merchants will have something more apt for your... stature."

Vrekkaar hissed, realizing what the merchant insinuated. "You say these are no good?"

A loud, deep voice boomed behind his back. "What my father means, snake, is that you better go steal someplace else."

Vrekkaar remained still. His first impulse was to assume an attack posture, but he forced himself not to. He turned slowly to face two burly warmbloods, a bear and a bull. Vrekkaar raised his upper body to match their height, and gave each a slightly threatening look. "Do you warmbloods need something?"

"You are the one who will need something," the bull said. "An undertaker, if you don't get your scaly ass out of this town now."

Vrekkaar smiled, staring directly at the bull's eyes. "A while back I met a village's mayor; he was a bull just like you. Is it a trait among your kind to be foolish?"

The bull snorted, quickly breaking eye contact, unnerved at Vrekkaar's unblinking stare. "Do you have a death wish, snake? You heard my friend. Get your tail out, or we will make his father sell belts made of your skin."

Vrekkaar hissed softly, holding his posture while scanning the area around him for Bron's guards. He found them some distance away, their attention on a pair of females who flirted brazenly with them. He cursed them under his breath. He knew the feelings many warmbloods had for prostitution; he wished the stupid guards had chosen some other moment for it. Holding the collar in his right hand, he toyed with it for an instant, trying to gain time. "You boys surely know what this mean, don't you?"

"A fake like the trinkets you're thinking of stealing," the bear said, grinning. He patted the sword still in its scabbard hanging from his right hip. "My sword, however, is very much real, snake."

"But if what you're wearing is real," the bull said while unsheathing his own sword, "we can use the reward that has been surely posted for killing the one you murdered to get it!"

Before Vrekkaar had any time to react, the bull grabbed him by the right arm. Vrekkaar screamed as the bull pulled, sending the snake spinning and tumbling towards the crowd that had begun to gather around. The snake hit the ground with force, grunting loudly.

Vrekkaar quickly slithered a short distance away from the pair. He tried to make his way towards the guards, but the crowd pushed him back towards his attacker, roaring eagerly at the upcoming duel, perhaps glad to see a snake getting skewered. Vrekkaar hoped the noise would alert the guards and come to his rescue.

He hissed threateningly, baring his fangs, as the two warmbloods circled him from opposite directions. At least he would not die completely defenseless, like his friends did at the village. A sudden wave of fear enveloped him. Had him be right since the beginning, and perhaps Bron did mean for him to be killed in town?

Vrekkaar saw the crowd behind his attackers parting quite hurriedly, and four guards came forward. "What's going on?"

The bear grinned as he pointed his sword at Vrekkaar. "Everything's under control, sir. My friend and I are just ready to kill one worthless snake."

"Is that so?" the guard said, his face stern. "That's just the evidence we need. You two are under arrest."

The bull turned to look at them, his eyes opened wide. "What?!"

The crowd gasped in shock as the guards moved in to apprehend the bull and bear. The latter struggled, shocked at the situation. "What the fuck is going on?! What are you charging us?!"

"Attempted murder of a member of Governor Bron's house." He turned to look at Vrekkaar, bowing profusely. "We failed you, sire. We will accept whatever punishment you feel appropiate."

"Think nothing of it. No harm was done," Vrekkaar said calmly as he brushed dirt from his armor and skin. Deep inside, however, he battled to keep his emotions from bursting out. He felt relieved that his doubts had been proven false, and wished for Bron to be right next to him so he could apologize.

The guard bowed again. "By your leave, we will be taking these two to the nearest station."

"Fine with me." He turned to look at the crowd. "I guess these people should know better now."

Some distance away, the two attackers still tried to resist their arrest. "Are you crazy?" the bear screamed, struggling against the guards. "You can't be doing this to us!! That's a fucking snake!"

The bull roared as two of the guards tied his hands behind his back. "Can't you see he's an impostor!?!"

"Far from it," another guard said. "He's been living at the mansion for over a month. You two, on the other hand, will be living in a cell far longer than that."

Vrekkaar smiled as the guards hauled his would-be attackers away, whom still screamed madly, trying to get the onlookers to help them. The snake slithered back towards the jewelry stand, frowning, as those in his path scrambled to get out of his way.

"Sir... my apologies!" the merchant said nervously. "Please... take a look at --"

"I only came to pick up this," Vrekkaar said, picking up the collar he had dropped in the confusion. He hung it again from his neck, looking sternly at the merchant. "I have no need for your trash anymore."

Trying to put the incident behind, he continued perusing the other merchants' goods. This time, however, they competed eagerly to get his attention in hopes to land some big order. Even some who had closed their stands -- most surely when they had first heard that a snake was roaming the city -- were back in full force, peddling their wares. Every one was quite eager to sell him whatever they could, though Vrekkaar could sense a latent wariness.

Two hours later, he had amassed a substantial collection of jewelry, some tasty looking treats, and even a few strange rodents he had never seen before, which the seller had guaranteed would make excellent pets. Vrekkaar thought it was better not to tell him that he had a dark, moist "cage" to keep them for a short while. He also acquired a few colored stones, which he intended to offer to the souls of his friends.

The warm sun and the overall excitement of the experience soon had him feeling thirsty. He stopped a young male feline, and asked him for directions to the best inn. The feline seemed delighted to oblige, even leading him to an inn frequented by many of the governor's chief assistants. Vrekkaar smiled as he slithered away, knowing that the feline was happier that the snake had not caused him any harm.

He reached the door of the inn, and halted, somewhat frozen with apprehension. He knew it was not the same building or city, much less the same establishment. Still, the memories of the past returned to haunt him. Hissing, he forced himself to cover the remaining distance and enter the inn.

The music and bustle of the busy inn had died almost completely even before Vrekkaar entered; apparently someone had seen him approaching. He expected the news of his presence to have reached already every corner in the city. Apparently it was not so, as he felt the same looks that he got when he left the stagecoach. He saw a boar rushing towards him, undoubtedly the innkeeper about to ask him to leave immediately. The snake turned to face him, raising his body so the keeper had a good view of his collar.

Vrekkaar smiled as the warmblood went livid for an instant. "I want the best seat in the house, sir," he said casually. "And be quick about it, if you don't mind?"

"Yes... sir!" the innkeeper stammered. "Please, this way!" He rushed ahead, leading Vrekkaar to an empty table in a well lit corner. Clean and untouched, it was obviously reserved for higher ranked officials in the governor's staff.

Vrekkaar eased himself onto the cushioned bench. He noticed the innkeeper's slight grimace, obviously dismayed that a snake had occupied the best seat in the house, struggling to be courteous to a creature he otherwise would had kicked out the instant it crossed the door. Vrekkaar enjoyed it immensely. He decided not to be rude; courtesy would certainly mortify the innkeeper even more.

"What would the... governor's emissary like to drink?"

Vrekkaar's mind screamed for some spirits. It had been a long time since he had a decent mug of ale. Getting himself drunk and groggy from eating too much would not help him at all, however. He caved in to his desire, trying to remind himself to be prudent. "Three mugs of your best ale. And some honey rolls to go with them."

"Would you like to try one of our steaks? You won't find any better in the whole region."

"No, thanks. I rather eat something large and..." The snake flicked his tongue. "Quite alive. But I doubt the governor would be willing to foot the bill if I ate any of the patrons here."

The commentary brought an uneasy laughter from several of the other patrons. All went back to whatever affairs they had been conducting before, trying not to think of the snake as best as they could. The musicians started playing a different melody, slightly less enthusiastically. Vrekkaar wondered how many tavern songs talked about killing snakes. He pushed the thought aside. He was there to have fun, and hopefully his presence would start a better understanding between his kind and the warmbloods.

It wasn't long before his order was served. Vrekkaar flicked his tongue, smelling the food and drink. He had had slight doubts that he would really be served the very best, but the smell proved him wrong. It was indeed fresh. He took a bite of one roll, and it almost melted in his mouth. He relished the sensation, yet he could not help feel somewhat depressed. He wished Seken were still alive to enjoy it with him.

He downed his first mug quickly while he listened to the conversations of those sitting closest to him, gathering a few tidbits. They obviously had a few comments about the snake, but their biggest topic was the governor's future engagement to the daughter of the ruler of some neighboring territory. From the gossips, it looked like it was a marriage of convenience rather than true love, though others engaged in a somewhat heated discussion saying the opposite was true.

Vrekkaar shrugged, ignoring the conversation. Warmbloods had a masochistic idea of complicating marriage with rules and bonds and raising children and who knows what other complications. Snakes would just select a partner and mate with them.

The snake started his second mug, relaxing himself in the seat. Two guards entered the tavern to check on him. Vrekkaar dismissed them, saying he was doing well.

From the corner of one eye he saw the innkeeper apparently arguing with one of his barmaids. The inn's bustle had almost returned to its previous levels, which prevented him from hearing their voices. He sensed that she was extremely annoyed. She pointed at him, then turned to yell at the innkeeper, who looked like he was begging her to do something. Vrekkaar shrugged. He didn't care if she didn't want to serve him. Eventually the innkeeper would have to do it himself.

Vrekkaar was almost done with the third mug when he had to put it down. He began to feel somewhat dizzy, and realized the ale was far stronger than the somewhat watered one he had drunk in the past. He panicked; the full effect of his drunkenness would not take long to set in. Struggling to keep himself coherent, he began to gather his belongings.

He saw the barmaid approaching his table, wearing considerably less clothing than when he saw her first. Snakes wore nothing, but he knew she was dressed like someone trying to entice another to have sex.

"Hello there," she said softly, sitting on the corner of the table opposite to Vrekkaar. The snake nodded, acknowledging her presence, but otherwise trying to ignore her.

"What's a buff snake like you doing among warmbloods?" she continued. "You must be very tough to brave this crowd and still be left alone."

"Somewhat," Vrekkaar said, still trying to stay alert. "I... belong to the governor's house. I --"

"Oh, you poor beast. Must be hard with all that boring, protocolarian life. So much time spent pouring over them laws, and none on playing." She sat closer to him. "Must be really hard for you, unless you have a snake girl to keep you company?" She caressed the underside of his jaws.

"I... am alone," Vrekkaar stammered, moving his head away.

"Well... I am no snake, but perhaps I could make you feel less lonely and quite... ecstatic. What do you say?"

Vrekkaar felt his heart beating faster. He felt disgusted with the idea of mating a warmblood, and a whore to boot. "I am sorry, but--"

"You are wasting your time, girl," a loud voice slurred. "You're not the kind of meat that vile snake is after."

The bustle in the tavern died again as the patrons got up from their tables and moved away from Vrekkaar. The snake turned to face the direction where the voice had come. He saw a large figure walking somewhat unsteadily towards him. He thought the offender also had too much to drink. Vrekkaar hissed with uneasiness as he suddenly realized who it was.

The executioner.

The feline stopped next to the table. He was fully dressed this time, though his muscled frame was still visible underneath his clothing. Down at his crotch, however, hardly any bulk was noticeable. "Surprised to see I'm still alive, you worthless lizard?"

Vrekkaar settled on his seat, trying to appear unconcerned by the feline's presence. "Not at all. I never intended to kill you. Only make your life a living hell for having killed my friends." He swallowed the last roll casually, while positioning his lower body ready to spring away from the table in an instant.

"I only killed two hideous errors of nature" the feline said, growling. "One, unfortunately, got a reprieve."

Vrekkaar hissed, the strained atmosphere that permeated the inn becoming insufferable. He cursed his half-drunken senses. Right then he wanted nothing more to get out of the tavern; he feared he would not make it back in one piece. Or worse, getting dragged out dead. "And I didn't use that reprieve as I should. But I could not bear to inject more venom in you. The presence of your flesh in my mouth was enough to make me retch and spit your blood in disgust."

"Disgusting is what you snakes were doing!"

A loud murmur filled the inn. A few patrons pushed and shoved each other to get a better view, not wanting to miss any of the action they knew would soon ensue. The innkeeper made his way to the front, sweating profusely in distress. "Please, gentlemen," he pleaded. "There's no need for a fight."

Vrekkaar addressed the innkeeper, not taking his eyes off the executioner. "I recommend you start being more selective about whom you allow in your place, innkeeper. The governor's house might decide to stop patronizing your place if they have to deal with this kind of riff-raff."

The boar nodded nervously, then turned to the feline. "Sir, the snake belongs to the governor's staff. I'll humbly have to ask you to leave him alone, or exit my inn, please."

"Exit?!" The feline quivered, curling his lips with anger. "Why don't you ask that deviant freak to leave as well?!"

"As a matter of fact, I was on my way out." Vrekkaar slithered to one corner of the table, judging the distance to the exit. "But then you dropped in for a chat. I can't say I'm exactly pleased to see you are on your way to recovery."

The feline roared in anger. "Recovery!! You fucking, soulless freak!!" he shouted, almost hysterically. "You should had killed me! Just like you killed my member! I can't use it, and it still hurts like hell! I came to this city looking for the best doctors, and they all say I'll never be able to screw a girl again! And all because of you!"

Vrekkar smiled slightly. "Can't say I regret having done so. Sorry if I took your ability to have some decadent fun. I feel I did your kind a favor by not allowing inbreeders like you propagate."

"Your species is the one who should not breed! You... freak who doesn't even know how to screw a female! That's why we killed your friends, and I will kill you now!!"

Vrekkaar hissed. With lightning speed he bolted from his seat and away from the lunging warmblood. His senses still dulled by the ale, he failed to squeeze fast enough through the crowd. He felt his tail and end part of his body being crushed by the feline's powerful grip, who also dragged him back towards the table.

The snake turned to lunge at the feline, baring his venom-dripping fangs. Again, his dulled reactions missed, and he slammed against the table as the feline dodged the attack. Vrekkaar felt the executioner let go of him, but only for a second. He felt the strong feline hands around his neck, squeezing hard. Vrekkaar gasped. He clawed at the feline's forearms, trying to break his hold. But his strength was no match, and the feline seemed unfazed by his own pain.

"Yes... you will wish I had cut your head back at the village, you bastard!! That would have been quick and painless!!"

Vrekkaar coughed, already feeling the lack of air. He tried to wrap his body around the executioner, but the feline was stepping on his tail, crushing it. The intense waves of pain augmented his desperation, and his mind began to lose control.

Vrekkaar looked at the crowd, hoping that perhaps someone would come to his aid, yet already knowing better. His vision already started to cloud, and even then he could see most of the patrons cheering the feline. Even the female who offered her "services" had joined the rowdy bunch.

Vrekkaar gasped. He knew he would be dead in little more than a minute. His thoughts swirled in a wild cacophony of emotions and remembrances, all surrounded by pain and anguish. He started to give up, that his time was over, and that at least he and Seken would be together in some peaceful afterlife.

The pain suddenly subsided as a feeling of rage took over him. He could not let himself die; Ssarh did not grant him a reprieve for him to die at the hands of the same accursed warmblood. There would be no other opportunity to stop his race from becoming victims to the warmbloods' prejudices. He imagined Bron giving up, disappointed that his people didn't even allowed a high ranked reptile to live, and thus abandoning his lofty ideas as pointless.

His intoxication vanished, and Vrekkaar concentrated his remaining strength on the far end of his tail. He managed to wrap it around one of the feline's ankle, and pulled hard. For an instant the feline stopped crushing Vrekkaar's body as he tried to hold his balance. Moving quickly and using almost all the strength he had left, Vrekkaar smacked the feline hard in the back with his tail. The impact was not enough to knock down the executioner, but caused him to loose his grip on Vrekkaar's neck. Hissing loudly, the snake sent a stream of venom into the feline's eyes.

The executioner screamed in pain as the venom blinded him, and he staggered back. Vrekkaar slithered away for two seconds to gather his strength and composure, then launched himself towards the screaming feline, wrapping himself around him. Holding the feline tight, he slowly began to crush him.

Vrekkaar spoke loudly, making sure everyone around could hear him. "Your death will not give me that sense of closure I seek. But I cannot let my mistakes come back to kill me."

The crowd gasped as Vrekkaar drove his fangs into the feline's neck... twice. Three times. Four. Then several times more in a quick succession as Vrekkaar succumbed to a killing frenzy, consumed by rage. Several of the patrons screamed in terror, but not louder than the feline, whose body exploded in pain. Soon his eyes turned glassy, and he spasmed.

Vrekkaar kept his grip on the feline, making sure his enemy would not get up again, even as he felt him die. "Let be this your lesson," he said. "For the loss and pain you and your townsfolk caused me and my friends, who wanted nothing more but to be left in peace!"

The feline gurgled, then went limp. The snake relaxed his grip completely, letting the lifeless body fall to the floor. Panting heavily, he turned to face whatever was left of the crowd, who recoiled in terror.

Vrekkaar hissed, contemplating whether he would need to fight his way out of the inn. Just then three guards rushed in, alerted to the commotion. They pushed the crowd aside, stopping as they saw the feline's corpse.

"Sir Vrekkaar!"

"I... I'm fine." Vrekkaar slumped to the floor, exhausted. Two of the guards rushed towards him and lifted him by his armpits. The snake was too weak to even hiss in complaint.

The innkeeper barged to the front. Seeing the dead feline, he moaned in despair, undoubtedly thinking of the legal mess he would be dragged into. Vrekkaar motioned the guards to lead him to the boar.

The innkeeper faltered as he saw the snake looking at him. Vrekkaar joined both his palms together as best as he could, fingers spread out. "My apologies for this incident, sir," he said in a hoarse voice, barely able to speak. "Be assured, I will speak in your behalf with the judge and seek that no charges are levied against you. Just... promise me that you will take better measures in the future to keep the trash outside."

The innkeeper nodded nervously several times, almost feeling like kissing the snake's hands, but still reeling at the idea of touching his scaly skin.

Vrekkaar motioned for the guards to take him outside. the guards grunted slightly as they carried his heavy body as best as they could. Instants later, Vrekkaar found himself being carried inside the waiting stagecoach. Only then he allowed himself to laps into a state of semiconciousness.

It had been an hour since sundown. Bron made his way through the darkened aisles, carrying a lighted gas lamp. He stopped twice to look outside through the openings; down below his guards marched as a change of shift was performed. In the distance, the city glowed with the fire of street lamps and lanterns, seemingly bathed in the same serenity that came with every night.

He paused to imagine what could be transpiring in those homes. Dinners were surely being served. Parents were perhaps talking or playing with their children. Lovers would be holding hands, or were sweating it under bed sheets or any place they could find to join their bodies in passion. But at one time or another, the topic in the mouths of every inhabitant was probably the same.

At least they would not be gossiping about him.

He saw his destination a few steps ahead. The glow of a fireplace leaked through the doorframe and into the hallway -- . Only the unending chirping of the crickets was heard. No guards were around the room, and none were scheduled to pass that way. It was an order they obeyed, albeit quite grudgingly.

Bron walked the few remaining steps towards the door, making absolutely no effort to be quiet. He turned to look inside the room. Sure enough, the snake was standing upright, upper body swaying as he stared at the entrance.

"Don't you ever sleep, Vrekkaar?" Bron asked calmly. "I don't think anyone has seen you rest ever since you got here."

"I do not wish to rest." The snake turned to face the crackling fire from which he had been gathering heat. "I can let part of my mind rest while keeping the rest awake."

"Doesn't make for a nice night of sleep, that's for sure." The wolf pulled a cushion from a chair and dropped it to the floor, sitting on it, and dousing the lamp's flame. "I see you moved to bigger quarters."

Vrekkaar did not lift his gaze from the burning flames as he spoke. "If you have come to sermon me, save your breath. I know what you will say. It will be useless to one who won't be here."

Born forced a smile, even if the snake didn't see him. "Still not one for small talk. And why you say that?" he asked after a brief pause.

Vrekkaar pointed to a small pack sitting in a corner; next to it was the serpent's sword. "Tomorrow at sunup I will remove myself and my meager things and return to live with my people. If your word is true, you should grant me safe passage all the way to your borders."

Bron crossed his arms in front of his chest. "And what makes you think I would like you to leave, you silly serpent?"

"I have disgraced your house, your hospitality, and the symbols of your government. And whatever faith you had in me."

"Nonsense. Quite a few of my staff have killed others in self defense. And I don't have skeletons in my closet. I have left behind more than a couple bodies on my path here."

Vrekkaar sighed. "I doubt any of them was a snake." He turned to look at the flames, seemingly transfixed by them. "Sometimes I wish you had not arrived at all, sir. A big part of me died in that village. My life has made less sense since... I lost Seken."

Bron knelt on the floor, trying to get closer to Vrekkaar, but the snake slithered away from him. "Well, maybe you feel like you reinforced the prejudice my people feels towards snakes. I say your kind has been more than justified in their actions."

Bron rose on his feet, and slowly moved towards Vrekkaar. This time the snake did not move as the wolf laid a hand on his left shoulder. The snake felt quite warm to the touch, after having absorbed heat from the fire. "I don't feel I made a mistake by having your life spared, Vrekkaar, if that is what bothers you.

"Still... I have to be honest. There have been some among my court who are beginning to question my decision to have you living in my territory."

"Perhaps my decision to leave at sundown is incorrect," Vrekkaar interrupted. "I shall remove myself now."

The wolf held onto the snake/s right arm as the latter started slithering away. "Like fucking hell you will! Now you listen to me, you dumb snake!"

Vrekkaar hissed, somewhat annoyed. "I have been insulted by warmbloods all my life. Being called dumb would be a compliment compared to what I have been told."

Bron smiled slightly, then continued. "Just because they are questioning my decision doesn't mean they will have your scaly ass kicked. It will be just a matter of explaining them your anguish what caused you to kill the executioner."

Vrekkaar remained immobile, staring at Bron with unblinking eyes. "I hope you are not challenging me to a staring contest. You have an unfair advantage."

Vrekkaar ignored the wolf's attempt at humor. "What you ask is painful. Those are memories I wish to keep buried... to focus only on the moments I lived before."

Bron nodded. "To forget the past is to repeat it, someone once said."

"It can haunt you as well."

Bron paused. "Indeed." He turned to grab the lamp he had set on the floor. "I will tell the court that you simply got attacked by a drunkard. Like I said to you once, one has to lie sometimes if it is for the common good. Besides, it isn't like that feline can defend himself anymore."

"No, sire," Vrekkaar said strongly. "When that executioner blared his foul words today at the inn... I felt my love was being violated. That I was being hated not only because I was a snake, but because of whom my love was going to. But even as I hated that bastard for all he did to me, I do not wish his existence to be made a lie of."

Bron stood there, taken aback by the snake's righteousness. Vrekkaar slid towards the door, closing it, then slithered almost silently to stare once more at the flames.

He let out a long, loud hiss before continuing. "My companions and I were on a quest, searching for any unoccupied land on which to move part of our people. The swamps that make our home are becoming too crowded to support everyone, so the three of us went out looking for a new home for some of our population. We knew we would be moving into warmblood territory, but we hoped we could find some land that warmbloods would had found unsuitable for them.

"Just two days into our search, we started to feel very cold. We saw the dark clouds forming at the horizon, and we saw in terror that they were not dropping rain, but snow. We snakes have a name for it. We call it 'the white death'.

"We knew we would be dead long before we could find or build a suitable shelter. Seken saw smoke coming some distance straight ahead of us. We really did not want to enter a warmblood settlement, but the next day would have shone on our frozen corpses. Since we figured we could end up dead no matter what, we decided to risk it."

Bron kept silent, watching the snake slowly slither around. Vrekkaar did not stare at him even one instant. The wolf knew his eyes were focused not in the immediate surroundings, but in the memories inside the reptile's mind's eye.

"The snow had started to fall with force when we arrived at the outskirts of the village," Vrekkaar continued. "The streets were deserted, so we went straight for the only place we saw open, the local tavern. The villagers had sought refuge in their homes, but even as we moved through the empty street we could feel them staring at us, their souls colder than the blizzard that was killing us.

"There weren't that many patrons inside the inn, but the air was still charged with strong mixture of hatred, and astonishment that we had dared enter their territory. I tried to defuse the situation, by motioning my companions to drop our swords to the floor, and we promptly slithered away from them, signaling that we were not to looking to loot or fight them.

"The innkeeper approached us. We saw his face full of disgust, perhaps thinking he would need to scrub the floor were we moved lest no one else would want to trod where a snake had been. We bowed to him in respect, and I told him that we wished a room to spend the night in. He demanded payment up front. Since we snakes have no need for money, we offered to trade him something in return. He cursed at us, and was asking us to leave his inn when he noticed the jewel on Seken's collar.

"Seken was quite upset about it. I had given him the collar as a present to mark our love --"

Vrekkaar paused, as if realizing he had just committed a terrible crime. He turned to look at the wolf, who looked at him quizzically.

"Yes, Seken was male." The snake lowered his head, and slithered away from the fireplace, back to where his backpack was located. Vrekkaar paused, looking at the wolf. "You will now tell me that you are horrified and will ask me to get the hell out of your mansion."

"No, no," Bron said, hurriedly. "On the contrary. Well, I... I admit I thought your lover was a female. It's very hard to tell with you reptiles. But... please. Continue."

Vrekkaar breathed deep, relieved that Bron would not condemn him for it, yet also pained as he remembered the events. "Seken gave me his collar, and I pulled the jewel and handed it to the innkeeper. He grumbled, saying it was not worth much, but that he would take it. We knew he was lying, but nobody there would take the word of three snakes over his.

"We were led to a room in the basement, which had obviously been used once as a storage room. I did not need to flick my tongue out to notice its dank smell. It was dirty, damp, and not much warmer than the blizzard outside."

Vrekkaar paused as he heard Bron growl, seemingly angered at what the snake was telling him. He gazed again into the warm fireplace, continuing his story.

"We humbly acknowledged the innkeeper for his gratitude, and he left without saying a word. We closed the door to the room, wishing it had a lock. We figured that nobody wanted anything to do with snakes, and that we would be left alone because of it. So we settled down. Seken lighted a lamp in a corner, which gave us light and even some heat. That's when we started to... unwind."

"Unwind? As in --?"

"Sex." Vrekkaar breathed slowly as he tried to hold his emotions. "Seken slithered around the room slowly, and I followed him, in a courtship-like dance. 'Foreplay' I think is how you would call it. He stopped after a few minutes, and I coiled my body around his. I... stroked his tailbase with mine... he got aroused... and I penetrated him. He hissed with pleasure, just like he had done in the past. And so did I.

"It was a soft, tender moment... " Vrekkaar paused, his voice breaking. "The best Seken and I ever had. I'll relish it for the rest of my time. Meanwhile, our friend, Sikakk... he was not into doing it with males like Seken and I. But he watched us with rapt attention, until he could no longer hold himself. He began to masturbate, stroking slowly his engorged hemipenises as he watched us mate. His arousal only worked to make my mating with Seken even more passionate. But... we were not to consummate it.

"The light from the lamp caught the attention of the innkeeper, and he barged in to demand we douse it or we would be thrown out. That's when he saw us. Even through my stupor I noticed him open his eyes wide, then raced upwards, screaming about the horrors he saw.

"Once us snakes engage in sex, we enter a trance that enhances the experience. That turned out to be our perdition. We lost precious time trying to shake ourselves fully awake. By the time we were fully aware there was no chance for us to leave. The steps into the basement were the only exit out, and within a few heartbeats we were surrounded and without any weapons except our fangs. We managed to bite five, maybe six of them before we were overpowered, tied and muzzled.

"I expected the villagers to kill us right then, but instead we were dragged to the upper floor, where we faced the town's mayor. He screamed and ranted that we had come to make a ritual to prevent everyone in the village from reproducing ever again. He sentenced us to death in a public execution as soon as the blizzard died. Which it did, two days after. During that time we were kept in individual, cramped cells inside their prison, still bound and muzzled.

"Seken and I could see each other, but we could not talk, unable to bid each other goodbye. That moment of tenderness had given way to one of extreme pain. We knew we were going to die. The morning of the execution... we heard the gathering of the crowd. We extended our tails through the bars the best we could, and touched each other for a few instants. That was the last time I felt his touch."

Vrekkaar turned slowly to look at Bron. "Sikkak was the first to die. Seken followed soon after. When that axe fell... I felt as if it had impaled in my heart. I felt I had no reason to live anymore." He turned to face the flames again, completely silent.

The wolf walked slowly towards Vrekkaar. "I'm sorry," he only managed to say, softly.

Vrekkaar did not turn to look at the wolf, but spoke, barely audible, his voice strained. "Just before I was to die... I saw Ssarh's face... in the clouds. I knew he did not want me to die. But all this time, I've wondered why. Every dawn I beg my god to answer me why he took Seken and not me, but He never answers."

"It was not your time."

"It should have. I should had gone second instead of Seken." The snake coiled again next to the fire.

"So it would be him who would be in pain from your death?" The wolf took two steps back as Vrekkaar turned to look at him, hissing loudly. "I am sorry, Vrekkaar. I can feel your pain, and wish I could take some or all of it away. But fate handed you a rotten deal, and moping about it won't make the future better."

The snake turned to look back at the flames. Bron sighed, then sat down next to him.

Vrekkaar sighed. "You still have not said what is this for you."

"Nothing, other than I want to give you snakes a better life.

"Years ago," Bron continued, "when I was but a pup... I had reptiles for pets. A few lizards, even a few small non-sentient snakes. Nobody could understand why I would prefer them to the brightly colored songbirds everyone liked. Even as I grew up and took charge of this territory, I've always been fond of them.

"About ten years ago... I had a dream. I saw three snakes. Just like you. The details are sketchy, it being so long ago. But I remember seeing one falling, and I knew it was dead. Then the other. And then the larger one, about to fall down, terribly pained over the deaths before him, especially about the second one. It was then when a huge, hooded snake appeared, hardly visible, like a mist. He pointed at the third snake, and whispered... 'Vrekkaar'. He repeated it two more times, and faded from view."

"What happened then?" Vrekkaar asked, his eyes riveted on the wolf.

"That's when I woke up. That fourth snake looked so odd to me. Just like a cobra, but with a torso just like your kind. The only time I saw him after that was when I saw that sculpture in my studio. I wanted that snake to tell me about it, but he was very adamant not to tell me anything, even when he took the money."

"That was Ssarh," Vrekkaar said softly.

"I though you said he was called Kerrivan."

"I meant the statue. He is the Snake god. My species reveres all non-sentient snakes, but mainly the cobra, Ssarh's totem. Our god doesn't interfere with our paths. He only created us, and takes us with Him when we die. You had a vision, and He spoke to you."

Bron felt his fur prick in spots. "Why would a snake god speak to me?"

"You said you liked reptiles as a youngling. Ssarh knew that."

"I wish he had been more specific with his vision. Gods, Vrekkaar, I ordered all my people to be in the lookout for your kind ever since that day. With orders that I was to be informed immediately of any sight. All my assistants and officers thought I was trying to prevent an invasion. But it was far from it."

Bron sighed again, his shoulders slumping. "When I heard your group was seen heading for that village, I left everything I was doing to get there. On my way there another scout said you all had been sentenced to die." He banged on a small table with a closed fist. "I wanted... tried desperately to prevent what I saw. I should had ordered that mayor executed! Fucking idiot twisted my edict to his convenience!"

Vrekkaar slithered to stand behind Bron, putting his hands on the wolf's shoulders. "Do not pain yourself over what was not your doing, sire. What you just said doesn't take my pain away, but it brings some closure. I can finally stop blaming myself for what happened, as it seems it was Ssarh's way. Seken at least rests with my god. And my race is indeed headed to a better future. Thanks to you." Vrekkaar bowed. "My liege. I will be proud to serve you."

Bron touched the snake's chin, lifting it. "Please. No need for formalities with me. In fact, I hate them. We have to plan for the better days ahead."

Vrekkaar assented. "I heard you are getting married. Must be an important event."

"Oh, that." Bron rolled his eyes. "That is not what I meant, but, yeah, that too."

Vrekkaar slithered to look straight into Bron's eyes. "You don't sound enthusiastic."

"That's because I am not." The wolf sat on the bed. "You heard some of the gossiping that goes in the city. Sadly, they are right. I'm doing it somewhat out of convenience. Although the lady's a sweet wolf. Intelligent, strong and attractive. One could not ask for a better wife. I do like her."

"Then what is the problem?"

"My heart is not entirely with her. I'm only mating to have heirs."

"I do not understand."

"How hard is it among your race to love a male?"

Vrekkaar hissed softly, realizing what the wolf meant. "None at all. It is not something that allows us to breed, but our race suffers so much that anything that makes us happy is encouraged. If those villagers represent your people, a male is better dead than love another male."

"Somewhat close to that. I have hidden my feelings from everyone, but apparently not to perfection." He turned to look deep into the snake's eyes. "When I woke from that dream, I got out of my bed, to clear my mind. I was surprised to notice that I had an... erection. I wanted to masturbate to relieve it. But it would not go away until I concentrated... on that third snake."

Vrekkaar stood silent, his chest pulsing with each breath. Bron noticed the tension, and moved away from the snake, who eyed him sternly, baring his fangs. "Please... Vrekkaar. You are not thinking I planned --"

"Why should not you? Ssarh does not makes paths for us! He possibly cannot have wanted Seken sacrificed!!"

"Just because your god doesn't seem to mark a path for your race does not mean he would just let it die entirely!"

Vrekkaar screamed. "But why? Why he had to take Seken away from me!?!"

"Sacrifices must be made sometimes, Vrekkaar!" Bron shouted. "Specially for the good of the whole. I'm sorry if you feel that life is a roll of the dice and you've gotten... oh, gods." Bron shook his head. "I was about to say snake eyes."

"Bad luck," Vrekkaar hissed, still baring his fangs. "Just the way you warmbloods look at us snakes. Perhaps I was right all along, and I have always marched blindly towards my own death! I've certainly found nothing but hatred from your people!"

"I really wish you snakes wouldn't have such a rather pessimist attitude, Vrekkaar. I want to change things for your race!"

"Your race is not the one getting killed for the crime of being different." Vrekkaar turned to grab his pack and sword. "Tell me, what will really happen if I refuse your offer? Would you kill me on the way out? Or what if my race refuses? Would you exterminate them so you can take our pitiful swamp?"

Bron growled. "If I really wanted to take over your land by force, I would had done so a long time ago. It's just a matter of waiting for the cold season. The market would had sold out its last piece of snakeskin by now. I despise violence, really. That is why I try to do things peacefully."

"You threatened that mayor with death. Hardly befitting of someone who claims to be a pacifist."

"Sometimes a threat is all it takes to keep unruly people in line. Saves me some headaches, really. And I think we were talking a moment ago about lies, didn't we?" Bron sighed, and walked towards the room's entrance. "Shit, Vrekkaar. Sometimes when you think you are gambling with life, you are only following a path already predestined. It cannot be changed. I was probably wrong as well, and I won't be able to change the future of your race. But I wanted to try, Vrekkaar. I really did."

Bron was about to leave when he saw a swift movement, then found the snake between him and the closed door, sword in hand. He breathed deep, unfaltering. "Will you tell me I was wrong all the time, and that you will now kill me?"

Vrekkaar bowed, exposing the back of his neck while holding his sword in his extended hands. "On the contrary. Where you have offered nothing but kindness, I have repaid with doubt and anger. My life is yours to do as you please."

Bron paused. Taking the sword, he dropped it almost immediately. "The only life I would end is that of my enemies." He paused, then turned to look away, embarrassed. "If I were to impale you, it would be with something other than cold steel." Vrekkaar rose his head to look at Bron, who kept walking slowly away from him.

"I knew it would be wrong to ask," the wolf continued, "with you still mourning the death of your lover. I... didn't want to pretend I could take the place Seken had in your soul. But... well. I knew it was a long shot."

Vrekkaar hissed, somewhat in disbelief. "You mean... you want to have sex with me?"

Bron turned to face a confused and shocked snake. "Only if you really wanted to. I would not had obligated you to anything."

Vrekkaar slithered slowly towards the wolf. Only the crackle of the burning logs was heard as Vrekkaar lowered his head, opening his jaws slightly. "Your lordship knows," he said softly, "I cannot be your lover."

"That is true. But I was hoping... that perhaps on some nights... we could spend some time together."

"But if your future bride were to find out --"

"I doubt she would say anything. She is very honorable and... I don't think she would be jealous of a snake."

The snake paused for a long time, then slowly lowered his head until it was level with Bron's. Flicking his tongue several times, he caught the scent of the wolf's pheromones. Different in composition, but the message was the same nevertheless.

Silently, Vrekkaar began to slowly disrobe Bron, until he exposed the wolf's nude body to the cool air. The snake's teeth glistened in the faint light as Vrekkaar opened his jaws and extended his tongue to touch the wolf's lips. Bron's lips parted slowly, until they met the snake's own. Vrekkaar's tongue darted inside the wolf's snout. Vrekkaar saw the wolf's eyes close, then very gently pricked the wolf's lips with his fangs.

"Vrekkaar..." Bron said, eyes open wide. "You... bit me!"

"Fear not, my lord. You only got enough venom to put you in a trance... just like snakes do." Vrekkaar smiled.

Bron remained tense for a couple seconds, before his senses told him it was all right, he could trust the snake like he had in the past. Vrekkaar held him in his powerful arms, then carried him over to the bed. He felt the wolf's body becoming limp as he began to feel the effects of the venom. "I hope your guards will not intrude in this."

"They have instructions not to approach this area," Bron said with a smile.

Vrekkaar smiled. "Good."

Vrekkaar slid onto the bed, embracing the wolf with his long body. He slowly moved his right hand over the wolf's member, and slowly began massaging it. It responded quickly, becoming hard and warm to the touch. "You would look so much better if you had scales instead, Bron."

"Well, I was born with fur and I happen to like it," the wolf said, feeling somewhat giddy. "What are you going to do about it?"

"Show you what you are missing."

The snake moved the end part of his tail closer, until it was a few inches away from Bron's crotch. The wolf turned to look as Vrekkaar's hemipenises slid out of their fold. He was expecting that; he had seen his pet snakes mate. He was still surprised at their size, however. "Those are bigger than I imagined."

Vrekkaar smiled, then massaged the wolf's chest, stopping at his hard nipples. He felt them strange, as snakes didn't have any. But Bron's reaction as he touched them told him he had reached a pleasure point. He flicked his forked tongue over them several times in quick succession, and was delighted to hear the wolf's moans of pleasure.

He continued stroking slowly the wolf's cock, as his own hemipenises rubbed against the wolf's tailhole. Vrekkaar moved his coiled body around, lifting the wolf's rump. Then, without warning, he pushed one of his members in.

"Ahhh!!" The wolf went rigid for an instant, feeling the pressure inside him. The strangeness of the snake's organ rubbing against his innards causing a stronger sensation than he ever felt. "Vrekkaar...!!"

"My lord is tight and hot," Vrekkaar said, he too entering the trance. "And he shall know a new pleasure tonight."

The snake twisted around until the wolf's cock was within reach of his mouth. He promptly took his full length in his jaws, sucking it as he moved slowly up and down the hard shaft. The wolf moaned loudly. Never before had he felt a male's cock inside him, much less to have that same male suck him at the same time. The thought of it, along with the venom, drove him to an edge stronger than he had ever felt... and he still was some ways from climax.

The snake worked his tail, pushing slowly into the wolf, and then out, humping him with force, yet still with care. He felt the wolf become tenser, growling louder as he slowly reached his peak. Stroking his second hemipenises, Vrekkaar continued working on the wolf's cock, sucking, teasing the flared head with his small fangs, coiling his tongue around the hard shaft bathed in snake saliva and wolf precum, then taking the whole member again in his mouth.

"Gods!!!" Vre...kkkaarrr!!!" "I'm... going... to... howl!"

The snake continued humping and sucking, touching the wolf's nipples with one hand. Bron gasped, his senses overloaded with the experience, until he knew he could not hold any longer. At the last instant, he grabbed a pillow within reach and bit it... and then he howled with all his strength as he shoot his hard, hot load into the snake's gullet. He held onto the pillow, muffling his howl of pleasure so no one would hear him.

He howled for a few more seconds... then felt the snake's coils tighten around him. For an instant he feared again that the snake could had chosen that moment to crush him to death. But then he felt hot liquid being shot into his ass. Vrekkaar hissed loudly, jaws open wide, as he ceased stroking his other hemipenises as it too shoot its load, which fell on the wolf's stomach. The snake tightened his grip around Bron somewhat more, but not enough to crush or prevent the wolf from breathing.

The snake's upper body spasmed thrice, then his grip around the wolf relaxed entirely as his head lowered slowly until it came to rest on the wolf's chest. Bron growled with delight as the snake's member slid out of his tailhole, retracting slowly back into its scaly fold.

"Vrekkaar..." Bron said softly. "Thanks."

"My pleasure, sire," The snake said, his voice weak, his strength sapped almost completely. He coiled his body, still lying on the bed. "I hope my lord realizes... I need rest."

"You shall get it. But not before I give you something."

"What is it?"

Vrekkaar turned to see the wolf holding Seken's collar. The snake gasped to see the empty socket now holding a crystal, the same one the snakes had used as payment at the village's inn. "My lord... you found it!"

Bron smiled. "The only piece among that stupid mayor's payment that was different from the rest."

Vrekkaar extended a hand and grabbed the collar with reverence. He lowered his body and head to rest on the bed. His eyes glistened in the low light, full with moisture as he pressed the collar against his right cheek. "Thank you. So much."

Bron patted the snake on the shoulder. "Don't mention it. Now rest. There is much to do tomorrow. We have to meet with the council to have you ordained, and arrange for several meetings to get you learn how to read, and..."

Silence, except for the crackling fire.

"Vrekkaar?"

The snake did not respond. The wolf watched his chest expand, breathing so slowly. He had fallen into a deep sleep.

Bron grabbed a silk blanket and extended it to cover the snake's torso. The wolf smiled, wondering what the snake saw, if anything, through those lidless eyes.