Chapter 14

Neyla spent the morning leading us through Rompelt.

Now in the daylight, the town looked nothing like the sleepy place we’d stumbled into the night before. The streets buzzed with life: wagon wheels rattled over cobblestones, bells chimed from market stalls, and the smell of fresh bread, damp earth, and hot oil drifted through the air. Merchants called out from under striped canopies, showing off rolls of dyed cloth, baskets of fruit, and jars of amber honey that shimmered in the morning sun.

My cum had put Syli in her alpha state, letting her walk on her feet instead of all fours. She was proudly on display, her breasts bouncing with every step, her hips swaying, the curve of her ass and the blue fur on her legs drawing the attention of everyone we passed. Kaya forced herself to stand, not letting Syli stand above her, her onyx skin smooth and sleek next to Syli’s blue fur.

Neyla, on the other hand, looked perfectly at home. She waved to a group of goblin dockhands unloading barrels at the riverside, tossed a greeting to a faun blacksmith hammering horseshoes, and even exchanged a few words with a pair of traveling ogres. She had an ease about her that made people open up.

We reached the main square where the traders gathered. A half-dozen wagons sat in a rough circle, their drivers bartering loudly while oxen snorted and stamped in the mud. Neyla started with the nearest merchant, a gray-haired goblin wrapped in a long brown coat. He was loading sacks of grain onto his cart, the creak of the wood loud in the morning air.

“Heading south?” she asked, smiling just enough to catch his attention. “We’re bound for Sensluttia and looking for a ride.”

“South?” The goblin wiped his brow and leaned on his shovel. “Not this trip. I’m taking grain east to the mills. Sorry, miss.”

Neyla thanked him and moved on. The next driver was a goblin woman in a patchwork coat who sold silks and perfumes. Her wagon smelled of roses and crushed spice, the fabric shimmering like water. She looked Neyla up and down before shaking her head.

“Love, I’d take you in a heartbeat if I could, but these rolls of fabric are worth their weight in gold. One wrong bump, I lose a month’s profit. Can’t risk extra weight, not even for a pretty face.”

The rejection didn’t faze Neyla, she just laughed and tried another. A pair of fauns were checking the wheels on their cart loaded with wine barrels. She charmed them easily, chatting about the vineyard road south of Sensluttia and how fine their vintage must be. One of them almost said yes until the other nudged him sharply.

“Don’t even think about it,” he muttered. “You know our horses need a restful trip on the way back.” He turned to Neyla apologetically. “I’m sorry girl, but it’s not worth the coin to stress our leads, even for company.”

We spent hours like that, talking, haggling, waiting. The market shifted around us as the day wore on. Goblin children darted between stalls, vendors shouted over one another, and the smell of roasting meat thickened as midday approached. At one stall, Syli bought a handful of smoked strips from a cheerful ogress and passed them around.

By early afternoon, Neyla’s patience began to fray. She stopped at a caravan master’s tent where a burly troll was counting coins beside a ledger. We saw a variety of people loading into the back of his wagon, all with bags and supplies. His tusks gleamed, and his forearms were roped with muscle. She dropped a pouch of coin on his table with a soft clink.

“Four passengers and some packs to Sensluttia,” she said. “Plenty of coin to make it worth your while.”

The troll glanced at the pouch but didn’t touch it.

“Already full, already paid.” His deep voice was steady, final. “South road trip once a month. You catch next ride, or don’t go at all.”

Neyla’s tone turned sharp.

“It’s important that we reach the city by week’s end.”

“You, and everyone else.” He pushed the coin pouch back across the table. “No space, no ride. Try again in a month.”

For a long moment, no one spoke. Finally, Neyla sighed and scooped up the pouch.

“Fine,” she said quietly. “Thank you for your honesty.”

We stepped out into the street again. The sun had passed its peak, and the shadows of the buildings stretched long and cool across the cobblestones. A group of harpies soared overhead, wings flashing silver in the light, their laughter echoing as they disappeared toward the river. I could feel the day slipping away.

“Well?” I asked, glancing at Neyla. “Any luck?”

She shook her head.

“No, and I’m out of options.” Neyla’s words came out in a sigh, her leather creaking as she shifted her weight. She tucked the coin pouch back into her belt, her jaw clenched as she scanned the bustling street. “We’re not the only ones desperate for a ride, and nobody’s budging.”

Kaya let out a frustrated hiss and batted at a loose strand of hair, her tail lashing in irritation.

“I don’t care how ‘fine’ this town’s ale is, Human. We can’t drink our way to Sensluttia.” She crossed her arms, her ears twitching.

Syli crouched beside a fountain, staring down into the rippling water as if hoping to find a solution in the shimmering surface. She flicked an ear toward us but said nothing, still gnawing a strip of smoked meat.

I was about to say something, maybe try to reassure them, or just joke to break the tension, when a sharp clatter rang out behind us. It was the sound of wood slamming against cobblestone, followed by a muffled yelp and a string of panicked curses. The group’s frustration paused, all our heads turning in unison.

Across the market square, near the shadow of an alley, a young girl was struggling with a broken cart. It was a decent-sized wagon, one of those sturdy traders’ carts with wide wooden wheels and a pale canvas canopy stretched over a curved frame, offering shelter from rain or sun. Right now, the whole thing sagged precariously to one side, the left rear wheel missing and the axle resting awkwardly in the dirt. Next to it, kneeling in the shadow of the cart’s canvas, was a raccoon girl.

She was compact and looked dressed for work. A black tank top clung tight to her frame, the short blue shorts riding high on her hips. Black suspenders with a red stripe cut around her chest, hugging her small, pert breasts, the fabric stretching just enough to hint at the soft curve underneath. Her fur was light brown, dense and plush over her shoulders and back, but down her front, from her nose to her thighs, it shifted to a clean, snowy white. The fur on her forearms and hands were dark brown, the same color banding her shins and feet. The broad, bushy tail behind her was striped, ringed in chocolate and tan.

Most striking of all were her features. Wide, alert amber eyes rimmed with the unmistakable black mask of her kind, a tiny black nose twitching in frustration, and a pair of huge, round raccoon ears that stuck out like satellite dishes. She had long light brown hair, her falling across her forehead and down her back in a soft wave, her bangs framing her eyes.

She’d wedged the new wheel under the axle, but every time she tried to lift the cart and force it on, it slipped, teetered, and sent her back to square one.

“Stupid, stupid, stupid thing...” she muttered, then yelped as the cart shifted and almost caught her fingers. She shook out her hand, scowling, her tail bristling behind her.

Kaya saw me watching and gave a weary, lopsided smile.

“You want to play hero, don’t you?” she said, her voice teasing.

“Better than standing around feeling sorry for ourselves.” I shrugged, already heading across the square.

Syli chuckled and skipped after me, the others close behind. As we got closer, the raccoon girl’s ears shot up. She scrambled to her feet, wiping her hands on her fur, dusting off her knees. Her eyes widened, flicking nervously between each of us.

“Uh, h-hi,” she said, voice nervous, her tail twitching behind her. “If you’re here for the apples, I already ran out. I’ll get more, promise. I ... I’m just, uh, a little behind schedule. Sorry.” She sounded young, her voice higher than I expected, almost fragile.

“We’re not here for apples.” I smiled, holding up my hands. “Looks like you could use a hand with that wheel, though.”

She hesitated, biting her lip. The black mask around her eyes made her expression almost comically intense.

“Um. I mean ... yeah. If you want. I can’t lift the whole thing, not by myself, and this dumb axle keeps getting in the way. I just need to get the wheel back on there and ... uh. Yeah. Could use a hand, thanks.”

She took a step back, letting me approach the cart. I moved towards it, bending low to grab the axle. It was heavier than it looked, and Syli, with her Alpha strength, quickly joined my side to help lift it. Together, we managed to raise the cart enough for the wheel to slip into place.

The raccoon girl crouched and quickly set to work, her movements practiced but still a little rushed from nerves. She gripped the wheel with both hands, her dark-furred fingers wrapping firmly around the spokes. The wheel slotted back into the axle with a satisfying clunk, and she leaned in close, bracing her knee against the wood for leverage.

She grabbed a bolt from the cobblestones, popped it into place, and began to tighten it with her wrench. The muscles on her forearms flexed, lean beneath her fur, the dark brown shifting as she twisted. Her claws clicked and scraped against the metal as she worked, sending little sparks of sound skittering through the air. Every so often, she paused to brush a stray hair out of her eyes or push her bangs back, only for the wavy locks to fall forward again.

Despite her earlier frustration, there was a focus to her now, the kind of steady concentration that came from solving a problem with her own hands. The cart shifted as she put her weight into it, and for a moment, her tongue poked out in concentration, her amber eyes narrowed on the stubborn bolt. With a final twist and a quick check, she let out a breath, satisfied, and gave the wheel an experimental spin, watching it whirl smoothly on the axle, and we set the cart back down.

Her tail gave a triumphant flick, and a little smile played across her lips, relief brightening her eyes as she wiped her hands on her shorts.

“There we go!” She looked up at us, the nervousness back, but tempered with something softer. “Thanks. That was really nice of you. I didn’t expect help, but that’s okay, because ... well, you helped. So. Thank you. Really. I, uh. Yeah. Thanks.”

The sounds of the marketplace faded a little as we gathered by her cart, our group suddenly a wall of color and presence against the shade of the alley. For a second, nobody spoke–the raccoon girl stood in the patchwork sunlight, her ears perked so high they nearly trembled, hands fidgeting with the hem of her shorts. She kept glancing from face to face, amber eyes wide, cheeks flaring beneath her mask.

Syli broke the silence first, a wolfish grin spreading across her lips as she looked the raccoon up and down.

“You know,” she said, “for a girl wrestling a whole cart, you’re awfully small.”

The raccoon gave a nervous little laugh, glancing at her own scrawny arms.

“I know. I eat a lot of apples, but I guess they’re not great for building muscle.”

“Maybe you just need better apples. Or a wolf to do your heavy lifting.” Her tail swished, amused.

Kaya stepped forward, her hips rolling with that effortless, lazy grace that always drew eyes. She leaned against the side of the cart, stretching, letting her tail flick against the wood, and offered a slow, teasing smile.

“Or maybe you just need to work smarter, not harder.” She dragged a single finger up the raccoon girl’s arm, tracing the fur from wrist to shoulder before brushing past her ear. “You look like someone who could get a lot out of ... teamwork.”

The raccoon girl shivered at the touch, her eyes darting to Kaya’s sultry face.

“I, um ... well, usually I’m on my own, but ... that’s probably obvious. I’m, uh ... Hazel. Hazel with the apple cart. Sometimes ‘Hazel, quit breaking your damn wheels,’ if you ask the market guards.”

Neyla laughed, a bright, infectious sound.

“Hazel, huh?” She offered her hand, her grip firm, her thumb brushing the girl’s knuckles. “I’m Neyla. These troublemakers are Syli and Kaya. And that’s our fearless human.”

“Just glad I could help.” I shrugged, smiling. “I can’t resist a damsel in distress.”

Hazel ducked her head, tail puffing with embarrassment and relief.

“It’s always something,” she sighed. “One time it was a loose harness, another time the cart was too heavy ... and now this.”

“Or just travel with a pack of strong, helpful strangers.”Kaya flicked her hair over one shoulder and purred,

“We’re heading south,” Neyla said, stepping forward so the sunlight caught the leather of her bodysuit, making her look every inch the leader. “Trying to get to Sensluttia, but every wagon master in Rompelt seems to have a reason not to take us.”

“Oh!” Mira’s face lit up, her ears perking. “You’re going south? I ... I mean, if you’re looking for a ride, I could maybe...”

“We have coin for your troubles, of course,” Neyla said. “More than enough.”

Hazel bit her lip, thinking, her gaze drifting down. After a moment, she glanced back up at us, her eyes hesitant.

“Okay.” She nodded. “I’m headed down to Sensluttia fields to get more apples, so that’s the furthest I can take you.”

“That’s exactly where we’re going,” I said, and felt a rush of relief.

“Oh, well, great. Okay.” She paused, looking between the girls and me, a faint flush creeping into her cheeks. “Um ... I need to go get my horses from the stables and finish packing, I took them there to rest while I got a new bolt for my tire, so. Yeah. Give me, uh ... I mean, meet me at the south gate by sundown? If that works.”

“Sounds good to me,” I said, and glanced at the girls. They all nodded, their faces eager, their shoulders relaxing.

“Great,” Hazel grinned, her tail flicking. “Then, um. South gate. Sunset.”

We watched Hazel’s striped tail vanish into the crowd, the market’s din flooding back in. Around us, merchants bartered in a dozen languages, the scent of sweat and spice thick in the warm air. I felt the heat of three bodies close around me–fur, leather, bare skin, and attitude. For a moment, I let myself sink into it, the feeling of the four of us as a single pulse, each heart beating a little faster with relief.