The faun's POV

Leif at once felt dishonest like he was watching Nymphs bathe without their knowledge nor permission. He walked up to the three ladies standing about the oblong stone chanting for some important and formal ritual. He said nothing, not wanting to interrupt their lovely song, with the gentle rhythm, like a tree gently swaying in the breeze, like being rocked in a cradle, in the gentle breeze, ready for sleep to take him in its gentle embrace.

Suddenly, he realized they had stopped chanting and were all looking him up and down, smiling. He had never worn a stitch of clothing in his life and knew that Nymphs generally appreciated him for so doing, but mortal women generally did not, suspecting him of being untrustworthy and sexually perilous. Yet these women seemed like neither, something different which Leif had not met before. He knew he should say some greeting, but he feared he might be disrespectful to be the first one to speak.

Embarrassed faun

After a long moment of feeling their gentle eyes inspecting his body and who knows what else, he felt he had to speak, "I am Leif, the guardian faun of the woods of Athenia. I mean no disrespect. I just..." He really had no idea what he wanted nor what justified his intrusion aside from his own curiosity and pride.

The witch in the middle finished his sentence better than he could, "You just ... answered our summons. You can be of service to protect the Athenia woods tonight."

Protect Athenia? Now, he could not possibly leave until he heard the rest of this story.

Three powerful witches in the moonlight

The oldest said to the others, "His aura shines strong with the masculine energy of the sun. He must have sun-bathed this day."

{fuan_N} replied to her, "You compliment me. Please do it again," as he stood taller and straighter, spreading his legs a bit wider, enjoying the attention. He held up his hands in surrender, exposing all of himself to them.

"He has no shame. And he willingly offers himself," said the middle one to the others, "That is a good sign."

"Yes," the nude faun said submissively, "It is a sign from above." He had no idea what she was talking about, but he had never seen a male benefit from arguing with a woman.

The youngest of the three raised a cup, "Let us toast to our hero. Oh, shall we pour him a cup as well? Come, hero Leif and drink with us."

Leif barely noticed that when one of the women was speaking to him, the other two mumbled something just barely too quiet for him to make out, but he felt it was complimentary of him and comforting. Something about gratification and listening attentively.

He stepped forward to the stone they were using as a table, instantly enamored with them for including wine in their formal rituals and doubly so for offering him some.

They produced a fourth cup, a bit smaller than theirs, and each woman poured half of her drink into it.

He strained to reach across the stone altar to take the small cup, then stood erect again.

They all raised their cups to the moonlight.

The young one (about as matured as the faun) toasted, "We drink to tonight's defeat of the invading armies of the Earl of Banewasp."

Leif was shocked to hear this news, but he could not not drink to the defeat of their long-time rival.

As they sipped, he took a swallow of the wine, only to find it was much stronger than any he had tasted before, burning his throat with a lasting warmth. He tried to breathe but coughed and sputtered. His knees buckled beneath him a bit as the warm fumes in his throat and lungs throttled him so surprisingly.

The women laughed at his weakness.

What the faun thinks he looks like, and what he actually looks like (after taking his first drink of hard liquor).

The young woman said, "Don't be ashamed if this liquor is too strong for you. It overpowers many boys who think themselves men."

He had to restore his manhood in their eyes, so he gulped the remainder of his cup, swishing the fiery liquid around in his mouth before swallowing it, now prepared for its effects. He stifled another cough and breathed slowly, feeling a burn that felt like the ghosts of wild horses galloping in his throat and chest.

"I believe I could acquire a taste for this wine," he said carefully.

"It is not wine. It has no name in this kingdom, but in other realms, it is called distilled spirits."