Fantasy Erotic Flash Fiction

A wolf’s howl draws Lizbeth to the door, and what she sees in the moonlight stirs something dangerous inside her. She cannot look away, even as desire and fear begin to blur into one

Lizbeth’s Wolfish Awakening

by Mia Sumner

A wolf’s howl woke Lizbeth with a start. She sat up, sleep banished, and instantly alert, before remembering where she was and relaxing a little. Any animals would be outside the hut and had no way of getting at her. The wolf howled again and she shivered. The animal must be close, maybe just in the woods outside.

Glancing around, she realized she was alone. The hut had only one room, which meant Osric and Illona must be outside. Alarmed, she got up and peered out of the small window, hoping to see them. The moons were full and bright, the clearing standing out against the dark woods surrounding it. There was… something… out there but from this awkward angle, Lizbeth couldn’t tell what, the wolf maybe? Where were Illona and Osric? She heard another noise, this time it wasn’t a wolf, more like a woman’s cry…

There  was nothing for dinner that night. The orcs had taken everything of value and destroyed what they didn’t want. The smoldering ruins of several huts at least kept Lizbeth warm, but everyone she knew was dead and her home was destroyed.

She stayed in the village that night in part because she didn’t know what else to do and also because she still held the faint hope that someone else had escaped. By morning it was clear that they had not and she forced herself to plan.

There was no future for her or anyone in Briar Glen, it was gone. Wealdstone was the nearest town, but Lizbeth had never been there. It was several days even by horse, which she did not have. She would need to prepare then, forage for provisions. She was no hunter, but she knew the lands around Briar Glen and could find roots and berries. At least she wouldn’t starve on her journey.

Her clothes and possessions were destroyed so all she had was what she wore. What she would do when she reached Wealdstone, but she was young and pretty, so the boys said, so there was always whoring if nothing else…

Lizbeth fled through the trees. Guilt gnawed at her, but she didn’t dare look back, didn’t dare think of Darrick. Her breath came in sharp gasps as her feet pounded on the uneven ground. She had to get back to the village, maybe Master Oweyn or the other men could do something. In truth, she wasn’t sure who or what was coming for them. She hadn’t stayed long enough to find out, but Darrick’s reaction told her that it would be nothing good.

The village wasn’t far from the spot where Darrick, and she, had been playing. She knew these woods well; they were a little way from the village. The games she played with the village lads required a bit of privacy. There was talk, of course, but it didn’t get back to the elders. Besides, it was all harmless fun. A little teasing, a little exploration, and afterward Darrick and the other boys were always so grateful.

The chickens scattered, clucking wildly as Lizbeth barreled into the village. If that wasn’t enough to raise attention, her screams were. Master Oweyn came out of his smithy, hammer still in hand, to find out what the commotion was, and soon the other elders were gathering.

It was already too late, though. Even as she summoned the breath to explain, she heard the sounds of steel-shod boots approaching the village. A look passed between the elders. For just a moment they froze, then the whole village sprang into action…