Chapter 12: Proper Treatment

Chapter 12: Proper Treatment

“Having fun yet, pervert goddess?”

Khukri’s eyes half opened to a world of endless clouds. Her ears twitched, focusing on the source of the voice, only to realize it came from below.

“Two spells, and one of them is fertilizer? Maybe give the next guy healing? Or at least teach him what Dusk is?”

Oh, wait. She was on her back now, and the clouds above were mist. Khukri let out a small groan, trying to sit before Master pinned her with a single hand to her chest.

“Heyheyheyheyhey... don’t move.” Master knelt over her, gently stroking the top of her head as she went limp. “Are you cold?”

A weak, cocky grin pushed onto her face. “I told you, wolves don’t...” She stopped, smile fading. “I… I’m cold, and tired. That’s not… I can’t… Am I going to die?”

A twinge of irritation raced across Master’s face as he glanced behind himself. “You would’ve, but no. That’s just what massive blood loss does to a person. You were cut up real bad when I found you, real bad. Most wounds clotted on their own by the time I got here, but your left arm...”

Her eyes flicked down as she fought to follow the order not to move. “Can I see?”

Master’s hand left her chest and wrapped gently around her wrist. “I’m not sure if anything’s broken, so tell me if this hurts.”

A dull ache ran through the limb as he lifted it for her. The armour had been replaced with a mottled red and white bandage that coiled from her shoulder to her hand, where the fingers fused together into a mitten broken by two jutting black claws. Tentatively she wiggled her thumb, then made a fist. “A little.”

“A little’s good, all things considered.” He lowered her arm, then wormed his fingers beneath the armour on her back. “We’re gonna sit you up now, if there’s a sharp pain in your back we’ll put you down immediately.”

Khukri's body whined in protest, sending aches through every muscle as Master helped her sit, then shuffled her back so she rest against the tree. However long she’d been asleep, they hadn’t moved. The velkammer lay in a heap where she’d left it, blood soaking the earth at the end of a darkened trail of devastation. Next to where she lay, Master’s pack was overturned, leaving the contents scattered haphazardly across the dirt with the exception of a range of thread, bottles, and tiny curved bits of metal organized on a sheet of white cloth.

When Khukri was propped up, Master let go, returning to the pile of belongings and selecting thick leather gloves, which he pulled up to his elbows. “What were you thinking?” His concerned tone shifted, sliding toward reproach. “That thing’s not a beast, it’s a monster! You could’ve died- would’ve!”

Khukri lowered her head, folding her ears back as Master vented. His anger was unfair, but understandable. The damage she received hurt her resale price, and although the profits from a slain velkammer would more than make up for it, her damage made her less effective for the next hunt. If she died, he’d have traded a premium hunter for a velkammer, a ruinous trade. “I don’t think,” she reminded him. “I obey.”

Her eyes widened as he unrolled another of the cloth bundles, revealing an array of strangely shaped iron knives. His fingers brushed their handles before he selected one of the bigger ones, scraping the edge down the length of his glove to test for sharpness as he glared her way. “Oh, and if someone told you to jump off a bridge you’d do it?”

Khukri swallowed, steeling herself to accept whatever punishment was coming. “No, Master, only if it was you.”

The glare stopped as his expression faltered, leaving his mouth slightly agape before he turned away and marched toward the fallen beast. “Why?”

“Because you’re Master.”

“No.” Master crawled up the velkammer’s hind leg, then slid the knife into the joint before pushing beneath the plate and working up its back, spilling fresh blood down his gloves and dripping off the side. “I don’t mean why me, I mean why accept an order that’ll get you killed? What could you expect me to do that’s worse than certain death?”

Tension seeped away as she exhaled, watching Master turn his weapon against the beast. He was a strange one. His stated plan was to emulate royalty, but he did everything short of screaming he wasn’t. Between the strange questions, bizarre equipment, and widely incongruous skillset, Khukri found herself at a loss trying to piece together who exactly bought her. “You don’t get to be a premium hunter by trying to avoid punishment,” she explained. “You have to commit to it, make it something that you are. I don’t want to die, but I couldn’t fulfil my purpose if I wasn’t ready.”

The shell squelched loudly as Master ripped it off, letting it bounce off the beast’s leg before resting in the dirt. He looked down from the beast, eyes softening before plunging the blade into its open back. “I... how do you do it? Have that level of conviction, I mean? When you know fulfilling your purpose pits you against something so much bigger than you?”

She couldn’t help but smile at that. “Well, normally I don’t face it alone.”

Master tossed his knife down, then hauled out a huge cut of meat with both hands before sitting on the beast and sliding down to its leg. Blood covered his cloak, and the thick hunk of flesh seeped over his front, slipping between the folds of fabric to dirty his shirt. With a grunt, he rolled the discarded shell over and dumped the meat in with a sick squelch. “Okay. I’m sorry.”

“Master?”

He removed the cloak, balling it up and adding it to the shell before returning to her. “I'm not really in a position to... ah, never mind the specifics. You’ve pulled off a miracle for me, far as I’m concerned. Whether or not I understand it, the least I can do is learn how you want, er, how I’m supposed to treat you. So, uh, I order you to teach me.”

Huh, he was finally willing to try, and she only had to bring down the second deadliest creature in The Direwood single-handedly to do it. “It’s easy. Just, stop treating us like equals. We’re not partners, you’re in charge.”

“Okay.” Master knelt, threading an arm under her knees, and another behind her shoulders, eliciting a confused squeak as he picked Khukri up. “So, like an employee?”

Khukri rested her wounded arm in her lap, holding it still with the good one. She hadn’t been held since she was a child, and this was the second time in two days he’d done it. Part of her thought to speak up, but she couldn’t think of a reason this wouldn’t be allowed. “No, you have more control. Like… oh! Like you’re a carriage driver and I’m a beast.”

As he lowered her onto the shell, resting her head against the cloak his eyes lit up, finally making some sort of connection. “Oh! So you want to be like a super deadly, intelligent, sexy aibax?”

Khukri's face warmed as he released her before disappearing from view. “You... you forgot obedient.”

“Right.” Master appeared again, kneeling next to her with a length of rope that he wrapped around the shell and tied off in some strange knot. “I can handle that. I don’t get it, but I can do it.”

Khukri cocked her head, watching as he moved to the other side to tie the rope around the shell near her knees. When he left again, Khukri poked the taught rope; it was strong enough to hold her, but the curved shell left the rope an inch above her, giving her ample room to escape.

This time, he returned with his bag, setting it in her lap before catching sight of her expression. “You’re confused. Are you not allowed to ask me questions?”

Was she? Typically, hunters took orders and gave answers to avoid annoying their owners. Questions were for clarifying orders, otherwise, they asked their Whip. If Master didn’t mind, then as far as she could tell, nothing about asking questions inherently defied the order. “I’d like to,” she said, choosing her words carefully. “If you don’t mind.”

He beamed, walking away. “Please do.” The shell lurched, sending a fresh wave of aches through Khukri as she jumped in surprise. “I’ll be telling so many lies to people soon, it’ll be good to have someone I can be honest with. Well, as much as I can. I still can’t tell you who I am.”

The shell scraped along the ground as Master forged ahead, leaving a trail in their wake. “Master?” she yelped. “You don’t need to pull me, I can walk!”

“I don’t think you realize how hurt you are,” Master said. “And we’re not out of danger yet. If you pass out again, I’ve got no way of getting back, and no idea where to send harvesters if I did. Now, you had a question?”

Khukri set her head against Master’s cloak. So she could ask him questions, and he’d answer honestly huh? Somehow she doubted that, given the false face he wore. Perhaps she’d test that? “Yes. Are you afraid of me?”

That shut him up. For the next few minutes, only the sound of shell against dirt filled the space between them. Then, after she’d settled in, he spoke in a low, guilty voice. “I don’t mean to be. A while ago I was attacked by... by someone like you. I got out with a scratch, but...” A longer silence. “I always thought I’d be brave, if it came to it. Like, maybe I’d be a coward for the little things that didn’t matter, but when something big happened, when enough was on the line, I’d step up and be a hero, you know?”

Master wasn’t in much of a mood to talk after that.

***

Another ripple of discomfort shot through Khukri’s arm as she peeled off the leather armour. With every piece set on the dirt, it dawned on her how much abuse she’d taken. Rips and cracks ran across nearly every inch of the blood-soaked leather, and parts of it wore thin. A grimace crossed her face as she slid her hand underneath the torso guard and poked a claw through the back. Absently, she rubbed the corresponding space on her body. Her fingers came back bloody.

It’d be fine. She’d recovered a bit after Master left her here to sleep while he organized a retrieval team. As she was, tomorrow’s hunt would prove… difficult. The spear was the most devastating loss, followed closely by her cloak. The cloak not only provided her camouflage to get in close, but the thick leather padding sewn into the hood served to protect her head. No matter how tough someone was, a solid strike to an unprotected head spelled certain death in a hunt.

With a sigh, she rose. Master had proven himself reasonable, and losing his only hunting dog in his second hunt would ruin him. If she waited until he was in a better mood, surely he’d agree to let her search for the missing cloak and a branch to sharpen as a makeshift spear.

Most of the day, she spent laying in the campsite, under Master’s orders to rest while he handled the velkammer situation. When she’d finally arose, it was well past dark, and Master had returned with two bushels of fresh straw for bedding. While she struggled to remove her armour, Master busied himself by the fire. His huge haunch of meat sat on a spit, leaving barely enough room for the metal pot of water dangling from a chain. The exhausted deer knelt, staring wearily into the flames. Suddenly he stopped, taking in a sharp breath and clutching one of his curved knives as he stared at her. “Khukri?”

Stolen story; please report.

She was so used to dealing with women that it was easy to forget the limits of Master’s vision. “It’s me, Master. I’ve finished undressing.”

His shoulders slumped as he set the weapon aside. “Oh, good. Good. Come closer to the fire so I can see you.” That was better. He was finally giving orders like a proper owner, instead of making requests. As she approached, his eyes swept over her, lingering on her breasts before he turned away. He rose with a tired smile, then set one of his heavy gloves on her shoulder as he circled. Finally, he returned to her front. “Kneel.”

Well, he certainly took to his role quickly. If she’d known all he needed was a conversation and an analogy, she’d have given him control the day they met. Still, this worked. After such a brutal day, she’d be happy to relieve Master before he slept, and once she’d pleased him he’d surely agree to her request. Obediently, Khukri fell to her knees, wetting her lips with her tongue. “Master? I’m used to only taking care of myself. Please be gentle.”

“I’ll try,” he promised, setting one hand on her head. “But if I’m too rough, just let me know.”

Khukri’s heart beat faster at his touch, but she nodded. Then, as he came close she closed her eyes and opened her mouth for him. Something warm and wet pressed against the top of her head, leaving a hot trail to dribble down the front of her face and drip from her maw onto her thigh.

With a confused grunt, her eyes shot open, giving her a view of Master’s strangely still-covered crotch.

His fingers tensed at her movement, fear emanating as he went rigid. “Did I hurt you?” he asked quickly.

“N-no.” Khukri closed her mouth, tilting her head to see what Master was doing.

“Hey,” he scolded, fingers tightening as he angled her muzzle down. “Let me know if I do. Between the fur and the shadows, it’s hard to tell where the cuts are.”

He held her firmly as the warm cloth worked its way around her ear and over her head, leaving rivulets of warm water running down her back and face. She stayed tense as he switched the cloth to the opposite hand and gripped the wet side to repeat the process.

“That’s a good girl,” he muttered, thick gloves wrapping around her muzzle as he forced her to look up at him. The cloth sloshed in the pot for a moment, releasing a stream of water as he squeezed the excess before bringing it to her face. When their eyes met he stopped, drawing in a breath. “Fuck, that was really condescending. Sorry, old habit.”

An old habit? Master was this inexperienced dealing with slaves, but spent enough time washing girls to develop habits? The bizarre contradiction of a man never ceased. Perhaps cleaning dirty women was some sort of fetish for him? In lieu of responding, she shut her eyes again, pressed her muzzle into his hand and let out an encouraging moan.

Master worked her face over like a painter, thorough and gentle, even with the thick gloves. He worked from the centre out, starting with careful strokes around her eyes and running along the sides of her head. His hands pushed further in, letting him wipe around her whiskers and the tip of her nose. Then the cloth swished around her chin, dragging a whimper from her as he set the cloth against her throat.

The cloth withdrew, and his thumb slid off the bridge of her nose. “Pain?”

Despite his workmanlike efficiency, the entire experience felt strangely intimate. The irony of that feeling wasn’t lost on her, considering what she’d expected to do on her knees. Wiping herself down after a hunt was something a hunter did with a basin of cold water in her cell. Not private exactly, but not something owners shared. “Can I ask you something?”

He swallowed, seeming more uncomfortable at the prospect of talking than touching. “I told you earlier, I don’t mind.”

“Isn’t it harder to do that with the gloves on? They’re very thick.”

For a while, the long trill of the night bugs and the crackling of the fire filled the silence. When Master spoke he sounded almost embarrassed. “They’re protective. In case I’m too rough and you... um...”

“I won’t bite,” Khukri said, trying to keep a neutral tone. She couldn’t blame Master for being afraid, especially if he’d already been attacked by a wolf. A shiver ran down her spine as the gloves hit the floor and his bare fingers wrapped around her muzzle to expose her throat again. The damp cloth slipped beneath her steel collar, dribbling water down her neck and between her breasts with cautious wipes.

Next, he released her muzzle and raised her arm, cradling it against his chest with the claws pointed away. The strokes down her arm were hypnotically rhythmic, starting at her fingers and ending with her armpit. He stopped twice, carefully working to clean cuts and scratches.

Then he moved to the other arm. This time he moved slowly, gently rolling the bloody bandage off as she grit her teeth, wincing at each revolution. The pain was a dull throbbing ache that grew with each inch of pressure the bandage released. Once the bandage was free, he gently set it on his bag and grabbed another one.

It was the first time she’d seen her arm since the Velkammer fight, and it looked worse than it felt. Most of her fur had sheared from her forearm, leaving her stripped to the skin, where bloody cuts and scratches swelled an angry red. Of course, those were only the small ones. There were six larger ones, each held together by knots of yellow thread, varying in number by the size of the wound.

“Are these stitches?” she asked, ignoring the pain as she turned the arm over.

“Sutures,” Master corrected, gently taking her wrist so he could start cleaning. “They’ll heal. Long as you’re careful with them. I never learned about scars though, so you’ll probably have a few. I don’t think you’ll notice them after the fur grows back.”

A trail of warm water slid down her arm, crossing beneath her armpit and running down her side. “Are you a doctor?”

He hesitated, then gathered more water before gently pressing down again. “I don’t know what that is.” That question was too close to his past, though she suspected he’d refuse to answer the question, rather than the more practical solution of simply lying. For now, she shut up and let him work. After patting her arm dry and rewrapping it, he knelt, refreshing the water, but stopped with a wide-eyed stare.

“Master?” she prompted, pushing out her chest, firelight glinting off the water that ran down from her face and arms.

With an uncomfortable cough, he shuffled away on his knees, moving to her side. “Ah, Khukri... Could you...” he hastily tapped the blanket ahead of her. “Could you just, ah, lean on this with your good arm?”

Was he too afraid of wolves to touch their sensitive spots? He’d been so calm up to this point, cleaning her like any other piece of equipment. He’d grabbed her throat, put himself within easy striking distance of her teeth and claws the entire time, but as soon as he came down to her level he froze.

Khukri did as she was told, cradling her wounded arm while using the other to lean forward, displaying herself for him like a beast. After a moment he continued, steadying his breath as he moved to evenly stroking her back. Her theory seemed spot on. He was afraid of touching anything that gave an emotional reaction. Anything that might prompt her to go feral- “Ah!” She twitched, grunting as pain shot through her back.

“Oh!” Master sucked in a breath through grit teeth. “Oh, Khukri, I’m sorry. That’s... hold on.” Just like that, his confidence returned. A throbbing ache ran from the wound in her lower back as he washed the blood away. He refreshed the water and pressed on, working through her pained grunts as he pulled the fur aside to clean the area. “Stay there,” he said, hurrying to fetch one of his kits.

“It’s not bleeding much, you don’t need—”

Khukri’s words cut off as Master squatted in front of her with a glare. “You shush,” he ordered. “That’s a puncture wound. They don’t bleed as much, but they’re really bad if infected. I’ll need to clean it and apply a poultice.”

Her ears folded back as she lowered her head in submission, but her thoughts raced as he skirted around her and got to work. What happened to Master from a minute ago? Where was the fear of prompting a feral reaction? He’d gone from timid to dominant at the exact opposite time she’d expect! Why avoid cleaning all her sensitive spots if he wasn’t afraid of ... of... Oh!

Master smeared the wet patch of plants on her wound, then reached under her, cleansing the area of her stomach he’d need to wrap in a bandage. The work was methodical and practiced. His hands were those of a man who knew his work, but with a gentleness she wasn’t entitled to. It wasn’t about her being a wolf at all, in fact, now she wasn’t sure if he saw a difference. It was about her being a woman. The more she thought, the more sense it made. She’d seen hunting parties of deer in the field; they had just as much stamina as dogs, and triple the strength. Their entire culture was matriarchal, right up to their queen, but how deep did that go? Had he ever had a female servant before?

As he wrapped the bandage around her waist, her mind reeled. If she was right, what was she supposed to do about it? Wolves made for terrible slaves because they sought dominance over their pack, but if he ceded power to her because she was a woman, that damaged the order just as easily. It was a fine line to walk, keeping Master in his place without upsetting the order.

“There,” Master said, securing the bandage. “How do you feel?”

Right. This whole time she assumed he was caring for her the way she cared for her blade or armour, but what if it ran deeper? What if his emotions were a weakness she could exploit to correct his behavior? She turned her head, keeping it low and giving a dramatic sniff. “I... I’m trying Master. I just... I’m struggling.”

Master gently took her shoulder and guided her back to kneel alongside him, a distressed look on his face. “It’s okay,” he assured her. “I know I put you in a difficult position, but we’ll get through this.”

There it was, if only she’d looked for it sooner. Empathy, ‘we.’ She’d need to fix that, even if it meant degrading herself. Her eyes firmly locked on the ground. “How can I be as good as the other girl?”

“Other girl?”

She sighed. “You accidentally called me a good girl out of habit. There’s another girl then, isn’t there? What do I have to do to be as good as her?”

Master let out a nervous laugh. “Oh, that’s just a misunderstanding. I’m tired and this whole thing reminded me of something. I didn’t mean to talk to you like you were... were...”

There he was, missing the point again. Talking down to her would be an improvement, since it at least put him above her. Luckily, he wasn’t opposed to using her as his weapon, so she didn’t need to play down her lethality. His awkward squirming intensified as she turned on her knees, displaying her feminine features for him and switching her tone to an undignified pout. “Please, Master! I’ll work harder, I’ll hunt again! I'll get you more stuff!”

Pathetic was a foreign substance to the dignified tongue of a premium hunting dog. If anyone in her pack could see her now, kneeling and whining they’d be disgusted. Bitching about her feelings, begging her owner for validation, none of this was how a good hunting dog acted.

Concern rippled through Master’s expression, banishing the nervous looks and fidgeting. “No,” Master insisted. “You’re pushing yourself too hard as it is. You nearly died out there.”

Oh? Dominant Master was back, and worried she’d hurt herself? Maybe it was time for him to see exactly how competitive her breed could get. “I’m a wolf, I’m the most useful! What did she do that’s better than a velkhammer?” Khukri breathed faster, feigning panicked madness as she looked to the slit in the fabric out of their campsite. “Did she kill a spikeback? I can kill a spikeback!”

Her hand was halfway to one of Master’s skinning knives when he grabbed her shoulders and pulled her back, sending a jolt of pain through her damaged arm. “Khukri? Stop!”

“But! But! I’ve tried to be good, and it’s not enough!”

His hand threaded through her wet fur, pushing her ear back as he stroked her head. “Shhhh. You’ve done an amazing job Khukri.”

Not good enough, it was never about praise. “Why am I not a good girl?” she begged, the effort of her hysterics bringing actual tears to her eyes.

“You’re a good girl,” he said soothingly, petting her.

There! It only took acting like a needy suicidal lunatic, but he finally talked down to her. Her ears raised halfway as she offered a hopeful look. When a member of the pack complied with your expectations, it was best to reward their behavior. “I-I am?” She said, slowing her breathing.

“Shhhhh, calm now. That’s a good girl.” He ran his hands down the sides of her face, stroking from ears to shoulders. “You need to listen to me, and don’t go running off without permission. Understand?”

“Yes, Master.” Her ears involuntarily twitched as she submitted to his will. When he let go she returned to all fours, an impish smile crossing her lips as she spread her legs wider, encouraging him to finish.