Finn
Copyright© 2025 by HAL
Chapter 9
Action/Adventure Sex Story: Chapter 9 - The world has become a bad place for the weak and a dangerous place for the strong. After the collapse, people were forming communities for self protection; but there was still a strong element of self-reliance needed. Finn was a hunter - perhaps killer for hire would be more accurate. Some were becoming successful and needed to remove competition, others wanted to punish those who wronged them. The rights and wrongs weren't Finn's problem.
Caution: This Action/Adventure Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Ma/ft Slavery Fiction
Even more, Lone Wolf relished a challenge. Some people would have run out of panic. They might have left the girl behind in the hope that would satisfy him. Others might have waited, intending to fight it out. In his head, Lone Wolf could imagine the rapid thought processes of this adversary. He could see from what had been left and what appeared to be missing that the man on the run had rapidly run through options and come to conclusions. The flight was no ill-thought-out panic. It was the result of urgency certainly (boxes upended to find the right thing at the bottom), but not panic. Where would he go? He would know that Lone Wolf was a hunter, that he would give chase. Where might be safe? Sollen? Mainthwaite perhaps – no, that was collapsing under its own weight. Timbolin? Well, perhaps. Sollen or Timbolin? The same road started South for both, they would see what they could hear on the way.
“This girl ... worth a lot is she?” Manx asked. Given a couple more years, and a bit more thought, Manx could be a good hunter; a dangerous one. At the moment he was useful to have around, but the time would come when he would start to think about challenging Lone Wolf. He’d have to be watched, and dispatched just before that if possible.
“The girl? Nah, not really. I mean we’re paid to take her, but there wasn’t too much fuss on whether she was alive, clear, or dead. If you get my drift. But it’s a professional thing see? I’ve been contracted to get her and this prick has run off with her. No, not a prick. Don’t underestimate him. The others, though, I think there are three. They could be sold, or kept for a while. I’m sure you all deserve a reward.” A couple of the others were salivating at the thought. It was easy to buy cunt, not even much harder to steal it if it was available; but hunting it down made it more exciting. Sometimes Lone Wolf wondered why he kept this ragtag on board. They were the dregs, but because of that they were expendable. Yes, that was useful sometimes.
They travelled fast and long. Finn knew they would. He knew they had a head start that would be whittled away. He was banking on arriving at Sollen and buying his way in before the hunters arrived. If they were in then the group would have to help defend them. That was a risk. They had to make as much distance each day as they could. After a few days, the women stopped moaning quietly about their red raw thighs; it was clear that something was driving Finn on; and if he was scared then they had better be scared too.
Toma tried again “Just leave me. I’d understand. It’s me they are after, isn’t it?”
“Well it was. Now I suspect it’s me as much as you. Given the other way round, I might be tempted to stop if I caught you. But I think Lone Wolf is driven by the need to be the best, the best of the best. He sees me as a challenge. He’ll want me dead. And if I am dead then these are fuck-meat for his bunch of near-humans. I hate to say this; I’m used to being responsible for me alone. This time we are all in it together. NO! Harder!”
He was teaching them to stab by practising on a pig. The pig was squealing. That was part of the point. In a fight there is lots of noise, you mustn’t be distracted.
“Look, you aren’t trying to tickle it to death. Stab it like it’s the bastard from hell!” Half an hour passed before the pig finally succumbed to multiple stab wounds all over its body. The women were all in various states of distress – some from the blood, some from the pain they imposed, some from the fact that this could have been a human; but they all knew a little more about killing and fighting back. “Still, if it comes to it and you can, just run. It is often the best way.”
...
The mistake they made was not hiding the remains better. Lone Wolf had been asking people along the way, but when they came to the fork it was still not clear which way to go. He split his group, letting Manx lead the one towards Sollen. The dogs found the remains of the carcass “Hello?”
“What is it? Something has ripped it apart. Must have been a load of dogs.”
“You dumfuck. Why would they kill it and not eat it? These aren’t bite marks. Look ... knives. Ohhhh, I bet he’s trying to teach them to stab. Good idea. Or it would be except that the only thing they’ll be stabbing with will be this!” he pulled out his prick. The sentence made no sense really, but then as Lone Wolf had already surmised, Manx was sly, dangerous, but perhaps not clever. “You go and get the boss. Tell him they went this way.”
“How do you know it’s them? If you’re wrong then -”
“I’ll blame you.” he laughed at the man staring from the pig bits to Manx and back. How could it be his fault?
There is an old saying about big fleas have little fleas on their backs to bite them. Lone Wolf had Manx to watch for when he became uppity; Manx had just created a resentment in this other man, and did not realise that was a risk to his own life now.
The group came back together and set off in pursuit once more.
...
It would take two weeks to get to Sollen, even travelling fast. Two weeks of knowing there was someone, somewhere, behind. Finn had usually been the pursuer, the one that someone ahead might suspect was there but never see. Sometimes in following it was possible to see across to a hill ahead and make out the person or the group; sometimes that group might see back behind them; but you need mountains and clear space and good views for that visibility. Finn had a Distance Glass from a time before. It helped to see further than the usual eye. Or rather it helped to be able to bring distant objects closer, to tell whether that group was the right one or no. It had a hole to look in for each eye, but the left hand one had lost its glass many years ago; still the single eye view worked. It had cost him a lot to acquire this. It was said that some people might be looking at how to create such lenses again, but it would need a little more time before life was settled enough to allow developments like that. The Distance Glass was of no value here. The land was flat and covered in small woods and brush meaning he could not see back far enough. But he was sure they would be there.
After a week, the women began to suggest that perhaps there were no pursuers. Perhaps they had given up? Would they not have caught up by now? Maybe they had lost the trail? The questions, the chat, was relentless. Finn ‘knew’ they would come, but now found his mental processes under siege from the drip, drip of that temptation to believe the danger was past. It would be so nice if it was true. So much nicer than the alternative.
His plan was to reach Sollen in time to buy their way in before the Lone Wolf gang arrived. If they were in the settlement, then the group would surely help defend them. It was actually a chancy approach, but he could see no option. No option that he wanted to take. He could drop off Toma, he could leave the women and run faster; their lives would be infinitely less pleasant but that had never been his problem before, why now? Because they were pregnant with his child? He tried to deny to himself that that mattered. Because he had gained an affection for them? He tried again to revert to his past of looking after number one only. He tried and failed. Social bonds were drawing him in whether he liked it or not. Anyway, he was sure that no amount of distraction in the thighs of a bunch of women would stop Lone Wolf coming after him.
Behind them, the gang chasing had it easier. They just needed to be sure they were on the right track. If they caught up today, tomorrow, next week, so what? They would catch up if they were on the right track. And they knew they were now. Sollen. That was the destination, it had to be.
The gang noticed a small settlement off the track and took a day out; then they left, the wild animals moved in to feast on the broken bodies. Lone Wolf had wanted to keep going, but he saw they needed a distraction to keep hunting. Two women were being dragged along for the evenings. “If they slow us down, dump them!” was all Lone Wolf said. He meant it, the two girls tried to hurry. Two days later they would be left at the side of the track, “No need to kill them, just leave them; there’s more where we are going.”
Lone Wolf had actually been to Sollen once before. To some of his gang it was a semi-mythical place, but he knew it existed. It was an island in a large lake. A lake beside the sea. A large island which had been extended with houses on stilts. The lake helped provide protection. The lake was actually shallow and rock strewn, with gulleys to drown the unwary. Some of it was wadeable but then a deep spot would appear. That was its strength though. Shallow boats could venture out to fish. If they hit rocks they could go round. Boats loaded with armed men were sitting targets as they tried to thread their way across the water between the rocky islets and underwater hazards. The island itself was well protected by wooden stakes in the water. Even if you set fire to them, the stake under the water would remain to spear a foot or a body.
Slowly they were catching up; Finn wasn’t trying to hide their camps, if they were being followed (and his intellect said they were, even as there was no evidence and he wanted to believe they were safe as the women suggested) then the pursuers would see evidence regardless – it is very hard to make something ‘not be there’; the changes to the ground to hide that there was a camp as still changes to the surroundings. He urged his women on with expletives and encouragement.
They were close now, the land here had been cleared and there were small fields in amongst the trees, growing various foods. Some wheat, oats, barley; some leafy vegetables. These were signs of a more settled existence. They existed elsewhere too, but here it felt more organised, and yet more in tune with the surroundings. The trees had not been cleared, they had been kept to stabilise the land from the occasional floods. It was as if someone was planning for more than one smallholding.
The path was becoming more clear as it meandered from one small allotment to another.