To Sort The Spoils

“This Ash’aro. Yours?” The chief asks, turning to Roon’ire.

“She is,” Roonire replies.

“She saved many lives,” the chief nods, “She’s new. How long?”

“Three days only!” Roonire croaks proudly. The assembled crowd of wugs break into a chorus of noise. The village sounds like a swamp come alive. Bringing a human woman to the point of love, to the point of Ash’aro Ashai in three days alone was nearly unheard of.

“Three days?” The chief shuffles to you and the warrior and kneels down. “Very potent. You must be very potent.” Two of his fingers slide inside of you. You groan unconsciously. “The warmth is right. She’s in Ash’asro Ashai. Her body is changing. She will be Ashula soon.”

“How soon?” Roonire asks.

“Soon.” The chief shakes his head. “I can say no more. You have good Ko. Her body good for ash’aro. You’re seed good too.”

“Thank you.” Roonire bows. The chief stands and walks away.

“Bring the other one.” The chief snaps too two nearby wugs. “She will remain in the big house.” In response the two move to grab her, but Roonire walks in their way.

“I claimed her. Calmed her.” Roonire plants his spear into the ground. “Me and my Ash’aro. She is mine.”

“Croack” The chief turned back around and spun his head onto it’s side. His voice turned stern. “And she attack village. She belong to village.”

“It’s for the best.” Then the chief’s voice softened again. “Dangerous. Look at her arms. She could snap you like an eldebug. She’s safer in stocks. Safer as villages.”

“She fell to my hand. She fell to my seed,” Roonire repeated. “Mine. I claim her.”