Stranded on The Southern Continent

As our comrades packed for the journey ahead, I tried out my new guitar! First, I added a leather strap–useful for slinging the instrument over my shoulder while on the road.

Now, actually playing the thing…that was an issue I hadn’t yet figured out. The fingering (haha) was difficult, but not impossible. Picking, on the other hand (literally), was impossible. My claws were for disemboweling enemies–not plucking strings. One mistake and I’d end up slicing right through em; I have no idea where/how I could ever get them replaced. I doubt there’s a guitar center–or a luthier if you’re feeling fancy–in this world.

I gazed longingly at my new guitar, while listening to Windthrow’s dagger practice.

“How’d you know”–he rolled and stabbed at the air–“what that instrument was, it's not like”–he twirled backwards, slashing the opposite direction–“anyone, other than Imperials, play those. Did you see one in your bunker?”

He paused to catch his breath, holding his dagger up to the sun. It was becoming apparent that his love for that dagger rivaled my love for this guitar.

“I um–yeah, I saw one in my old bunker. But it was broken!” My eyes wandered as I searched for a way to lie, without really lying. “After all those lute performances in Sapwood I’ve been wanting to learn to play something!”

Windthrow tore his attention away from the dagger, and for a moment, I was convinced he was about to see through my half-lie.

He shrugged and said, “Oh, that makes sense!” Then he went back to stabbing, slashing and lunging with the dagger. Tisk tisk. Boys and their toys.

“Have you thought of a name for it yet?” I asked.

Windthrow’s body was glimmering in a thin sheen of sweat–each muscle flexed and rippled as his mock attack intensified.

“Are you so sure it’s an ‘it’, Vylet?” Windthrow tossed the dagger in the air, kicked the hilt with his heel, then caught it mid-fall. “Maybe it's a ‘she’?”

“Aww, you’re telling me you have another woman in your life? First Lancet, and now a dagger–I can’t catch a break!”

He sheathed the blade at his waist. “I told you, Lancet and I aren’t like that. You’re not jealous are you?” Windthrow brushed his hair back, lifting his shirt briefly in an attempt to cool off.

We locked eyes as he sauntered over to me. With the back of his hand, he stroked the sensitive scales on my neck and leaned down for a kiss.

“You don’t need”–our lips locked for the briefest of moments, before he pulled back with a playful smile on his face–“to be jealous Vylet.”

I growled in frustration, this wasn’t nearly enough for me!

“Vylet! Windthrow! We are nearly done here!” Delemin shouted to us. An unfortunate signal that my wish would go unanswered, at least for now.

All the men and women of the guilds had packed up–they looked eager to continue their journey. Each was loaded down with gear, and the definitely-not-loot we’d taken from the fort. It looked hella heavy to me, but I'd never heard anyone complain about free stuff before. Del, never one to slack off, had an absolute mountain of luggage on his back. He looked like a pack mule! Or a pack orc I guess.

They’d all be heading on to Six-Dice, to see if any of the fluffy Harengon wanted to try their hand (paw?) at becoming a Ranger or a Warrior. I wish I could see how Matriarch Sasha would react to their proposal. Sure, Delemin and Lancet were strong, but compared to Sasha they were amateurs.

We’d miss that confrontation. Since Windthrow and I would be heading further east, to the lakeside village of Strive –home to both the Warriors and Hunters Guilds. In Strive, we'd rest for a week, before heading north for the Federation meeting. Chances are we’d see Lancet and Del again before the meeting.

But first, Del wouldn’t leave without a proper goodbye.

“Vylet! Keep it up. You’re one of the strongest spear women I know,” he bellowed, before slapping me on the back with almost enough force to make me fall forward.

Then he embraced me in a tight bear hug–curiously, my instincts didn’t make a peep when Del touched me.

“And Windthrow! Don’t you dare upset her.”

Windthrow laughed.

“I won’t. Thanks Delemin, you’ve been–”

“That wasn’t a joke,” Delemin said, the smile fading from his face. “Be. Kind. To. Vylet.”

Now he did smile, letting out a warm laugh together with his men.

Lancet approached Windthrow next. She whispered something in his ear. This was, of course, extremely frustrating to witness!

After their exchange, she decided to bless me with her presence–somehow she wasn’t scowling, she even looked…shy? Lancet fiddled with her hands, ran a hand through her blond hair, and exhaled sharply.

“Vylet. I’m– I’m sorry. Take this.” She shoved a wooden jar into my hands, I fumbled and barely managed to hold onto the damn thing.

“Thanks…thank you Lancet. What is this?” I rotated it between my claws, looking for any label or marking. There was nothing.

She pulled me aside, placing a finger to her lips.

“You must understand, if my Rangers heard this they might think less of me.” Her eyes glistened with moisture. “When I was enslaved, I was not allowed a partner, or children. Now that I’m free, I thought I might never find an elf worthy of me, but then I saw Windthrow. That is to say, maybe I was too aggressive with you. I’ve always wanted a child and I just…”

“That's okay Lancet, I don’t blame you,” I replied.

I kinda did blame her, but for the sake of peace, I’d accept her apology.

“What I’ve given you is a dried Evit Tea blend. Medicinal tea. Drink it straight after you and Windthrow make lo– have sex, and it should prevent pregnancy.”

I’d never been given birth control before. Wait a second. Wasn’t this a backhanded gift?

Lancet smiled at me, with a hint of pity playing at the edges of her mouth. She turned, accidentally hitting me with her long blond hair, and marched towards her Rangers.

You know what. Okay. I’d accept this gift. It’s not like I want to get pregnant. It still feels weird to think that. Honestly, I still know so little about being a woman, let alone a lizard woman.

After enduring Lancet’s parting insult and accepting Del’s sincere farewell, we were ready to leave.

That was before one more little guy wanted a word with me. Specifically, the creepy gnome fellow, Lec, tugged on my tail. Usually, this would have pissed me off, but I felt bad about intimidating him when I was picking out a magic item earlier. Even though he was staring at me like a lil stalker!

“Excuse me. Miss Vylet. My sincerest apologies for my clandestine glances towards your most beautiful persons. I was working on this!” Lec rushed through each word while unfolding a sheet of parchment–an ink sketch of me!?

I was depicted with my tail curled around the length of my body. My cloak barely covered my perky breasts. One scaly thigh was crossed over the other, obscuring my crotch. An unseen breeze blew my long black hair in the wind. My face wore a seductive fanged grin, and my eyelids were half closed in a sultry expression. In my old world, I’d heard men describe this as “fuck me eyes”.

Admittedly, it was hot. But this was not a pose I’d show to anyone but my mate! And were my thighs and breasts really this large!? Lec had clearly used his imagination to enhance some of my features. But, as much as I wanted to call him a pervert, he did take the time to draw each individual scale…

“This is…something, is it for me, Lec?” I asked.

He blushed furiously and clutched the drawing close to his chest.

“No no no. This was, for–I was going to use this as an anatomical drawing of a new species. Of you! I must keep it! For publication!” he rattled off like a broken record.

That was a terrible idea! No way in hell would I let this softcore nude reach a wider audience,

“Lec. Hand it over, now.”

Stricken, he placed it in my outstretched claws. I handed it to Windthrow, who whistled and put it in his pack. “Not bad!” he said.

“Sorry Lec. You can draw another from memory anyway.”

He trembled, emotions threatening to break his already weak facade. Like a teenager who was just turned down for prom, he turned and ran in the direction of the departing Del and Lancet.

“That was harsh. It was quite a flattering drawing, Vylet,” Windthrow teased.

“Oh shush, you don’t need that. You got the real thing!”

At last we started the final leg of our journey.

Windthrow had his new silver dagger holstered at his side, while my new cherry wood guitar was strapped on my back, next to Tanglewood.

Behind us was the fortress, now empty. Full of the burnt up skeletons of old Imperials. For now, it’d continue to loom over the landscape. A monument to what…hubris? Cruelty? I’m not sure.

The canopy rustled above us, as the midday sun struggled to reach the understory. I listened to Windthrow as he led us, the leaves crunching under his steps.

---

Our first night back in the Weald was awkward.

I wondered, what did Lancet whisper to Windthrow? Also there was the birth control tea she gave me. Pregnant. If we weren’t careful, I could become pregnant. And that's a normal thing for me now. As a woman.

I watched Windthrow’s broad back as he tended the fire, grinning to myself like a crazy person.

He really was beautiful. The smoke seemed to never touch him. It just flowed around Windthrow–like he wasn’t of this world. Not even the dirt and dust from the battle–still covering his clothes–could make him look less appealing. In my old life, I didn’t dare admire men. If I’m being honest, they scared me. But now that I was a lizard girl? Things had taken a dramatic turn.

Windthrow threw a log on the fire, creating a flood of brilliant sparks. How would those biceps feel if he pinned me down again? Despite myself, I licked my fangs in misguided anticipation.

“Vylet, you okay?”

I snapped to attention.

“What!? Yeah?”

“I said that it’s been awhile since I’ve given you a reading lesson. I’m going to give you a quick lesson before I take first watch.”

My current mood was more like, 'Oh, you can teach me a few things, sir.' But yeah, I guess I should learn to read.

“Okaay, sit next to me. Teach me my letters Mr. Windthrow sir.” I batted my eyes at him.

Unaffected by my charms, he sat next to me, and started drawing in the dirt with a stick. We reviewed each and every letter of the Common tongue.

After the 5th log we’d needed to throw on the fire, it was time for us to call it a night. I suppressed a yawn and scratched at my back with a claw. Some of the scales there felt itchy, maybe my body had decided it was time for another molt.

Windthrow gripped one of my horns, and pulled me into a gentle kiss on the lips–not sure how I felt about my horns being used like handles, but I’d be lying if I said it didn’t do anything for me.

“Goodnight Vy, sleep well.” He pinched my ass and guided me towards my bedroll–this man didn’t play fair!

I reclined onto my bedroll and whispered, “Goodnight, lo– love you.”

---

After another exhausting day hiking through the Weald, doing our characteristic weaving to avoid enemies strat, we were setting up for what would be one of our last nights in the wilds. I’d also given Cleyre a quick update with the Silver Raven, I really missed her.

Windthrow was stirring a watery stew–a bright leafy smell drifted from the boiling pot. Meanwhile, I sat with my talons outstretched, examining my guitar as it sat on my lap. I gave it a soft strum, and the Emel Weald was alight with a warm tone.

I listened as the tone faded to nothing, leaving only the singing insects and nightingales to provide us a soundtrack. Even if I can’t play it–this is fine.

Windthrow took a break from tending the stew, and said, “Hey Vylet, I made something for you last night.” Out of his pack, he pulled a set of three carved wooden things.

“Hold out your claws.”

I tentatively held out my hand, spreading my claws wide. Windthrow took my wrist, and fitted one of the wooden things over my claw. It finally dawned on me, these were finger picks! It fit snugly around my claw, so instead of a sharp point, I could play with the dull point of these picks! He gently fit the other two on my claws.

I played a few tentative notes. An ‘E’, ‘G’, ‘D’. They all sounded wonderful! Chords would take some practice, but this could really work!

“They might need to be replaced eventually, but they’ll last awhile! I figured with this you could–”

I put down my guitar and dove on top of Windthrow.

“Hey hey! Settle down Vy! Don’t you want to try playing something, maybe singing?”

Later. I silenced his protests with a kiss. Then I traced my long forked tongue up his neck, savoring his salty taste. I ran my palms up and down his body, while covering his neck and chest with kisses.

“Windthrow, Windthrow, Windthrow…” I moaned.

This felt so right–overdue even. I wanted to give him my everything; I wanted to give him the gifts that only a woman could give a man. I’d use my body to make him forget all about Lancet.

Our bodies twisted and rubbed together by the light of the campfire. Part of me hoped my scales were pleasurable to him, because his dark skin felt marvelous against me.

I heard his heart pounding in his chest. He wanted me! He’d make me a woman, make me forget about my old life. Those nagging doubts would be gone–I could be just Vylet, a probably lizard woman.

Before making me a woman, Windthrow had other ideas. His hands gripped both my horns, and he firmly guided my head downwards.

I knew what he wanted, and I was all too eager to give it to him.

The doubts again: This is gay. My instincts, useful for once, pushed them aside. But as I was pulling down Windthrow’s trousers, I heard a yelp from the edge of our camp.

We leapt off each other. I was on all fours–preparing a Frost Ray for whatever was about to attack us. Instead of an attack, stumbling out of the Wilderness, into the light of our camp, looking like he’d fallen into several ditches, was Lec the gnome.

“Mr. Windthrow, Miss Vylet! I was hoping that”–Lec shielded his eyes–”am I interrupting something?”

Welp. Really regretting being nice to this dude now.