Chapter 13: A Free Clan

Aran slid to a halt at the top of a ridge, his boots skidding on rocky ground baked hard by a pitiless sun. They would need replacing soon, the boots. The leather was worn and cracked; the soles split in places. He was surprised they had lasted this long. Finally, he had reached the edge of the desert. It had only taken him five days since leaving Sadani’s oasis. A half-mile north of him, the dark shapes of trees loomed in the twilight, stretching out of sight to the east and west. The menace in the air was thick, here. It had been growing stronger every hour since yesterday, and his vala had been pulling him right to it. Whatever was in that jungle, Maharad’s hold on it was strong.

The air was also different here in another way; thicker, steamier than in the desert, much like the rainforests in the deep south, where the Ash’goth Orcs lived. He considered stopping for a bite to eat before continuing, but the leather bag slung over his back was almost empty; he needed to make what remained last as long as possible. His stomach growled belligerently, reminding him he’d been eating lightly the last couple of days. As a result, he’d been using his vala less and less to conserve energy. He started forward, keeping his vala just beyond his physical body; there was no need to announce his presence just yet. Not for the first time in recent days, he thought fondly of his horse, Strider. He hoped the brave stallion was being cared for, wherever he was.

The air grew quiet as he walked, his boots sounding too loud as they crunched on the unforgiving rock, which gradually became softer earth as he grew closer to the beginnings of the jungle. Ferns and palm shrubs replaced rocks, and the crunching of his steps became the crackle of dead leaves and sticks as they were crushed underfoot. There was no real need for stealth; whatever awaited him would know he was here soon enough. The first proper trees seemed to reach out and embrace him as he passed beneath their branches, particularly the low hanging limbs of the strangler figs, their thick, winding roots threatening to trip the unwary foot.

For an hour he walked unmolested, despite the menace in the air intensifying. It made him want to look over his shoulder. Tempting as it was to open his vala and feel out the area, he refrained on a gut feeling. He’d learned to trust those, especially lately. The darkness made it necessary, however, to maintain a small bubble around himself, for his eyes alone could not manage, even with the fat moon rising overhead, sending silvery shafts through the canopy.

A deep, animal growl from his left made him spin in that direction. A wolf, maybe, though it sounded bigger. Another came from behind, and then another from the right, and another, until he was surrounded. Well, he’d been waiting for something to happen. Motion nearby caught his attention, and he turned on the spot, eyes widening. The biggest snake he’d ever seen was winding sinuously down the trunk of a palm not ten feet away. Head the size of his own, the man-thick serpent’s body wound almost top-to-bottom of the forty-foot tree. It coiled itself smoothly on the ground, huge head raised, watching him. Faster than he could believe, it struck, extended fangs aimed at him like twin lances, each as long as his hand. He wasn’t at his full strength, but he had more than enough in him to shift aside, more a twist of his shoulders than anything, to let the strike slide past. Oroth came into his hands unconsciously, but he didn’t strike back. Not yet.

As the heavy, scaled creature came close, he let himself feel into it. Yes, Maharad was here, alright. And this was no ordinary snake, quite apart from her size. She - he could somehow tell it was a she - retracted back, tongue flickering furiously, eyes reflecting the bright orange glow from Oroth’s blade. Something about the set of her head made him think she was surprised. The growls from the creatures hidden among the trees intensified. So, this is where you’ve all been hiding, he thought as he stared back at the snake. Her form began to shift, long reptilian body rippling in the shadows, shrinking, twisting until a woman stood before him, tall and beautiful. Definitely a she, he thought, unable not to notice how stunning she was. Fine-featured of face, she was slender, yet sleekly curved, with olive skin and long flowing hair of chestnut brown. She was, for all appearances, Human, except for those green eyes that belonged on a snake, her pupils vertical slits. Except for her head, her skin was smooth and hairless.

“What are you?” she asked him with an accent he didn’t recognise. “And why did you not attack me?” Her speech sounded sharp, angular to his ears. The ambient growling had ceased as soon as she started talking. Those reptilian eyes watched him warily, especially his sword.

“I am Aran,” he answered simply, lowering his blade. “Who are you?” There was no need to ask what she was; he already knew that. She came forward slowly, her steps flowing and graceful, her body swaying hypnotically. Were she not what she was, he would have found her exciting. She stopped just outside the reach of his blade, studying him.

“I am Serefi.” Her tongue flicked out to touch her lips before disappearing again, and her eyes travelled slowly up and down, from his head to his boots and back. “You are not Human,” she observed. “At least, not an ordinary one.” Rustling amongst the trees followed her words. Aran readied himself to respond, though he showed no outward sign. “The wolves smelled you first. That is how we found you.” He wanted to open his vala, to feel the creatures out there watching, but he held back. Not yet. If he was at full strength, maybe.

Tall ferns to his left parted to reveal a massive grey wolf as tall as Aran’s shoulder, yellow eyes gleaming dangerously. It began to change at once, shrinking and shifting into a man, tall and lean. Maybe twice Aran’s age, his body was hard and criss-crossed with scars. His eyes, still yellow like a wolf’s, were harder as they regarded Aran. Shaggy hair more grey than brown fell to his shoulders, matching the thick curls on his torso and the short beard on his face. His voice was rough, gravelly as he addressed Serefi without taking his eyes from Aran. “Why do you toy with him, Serefi? He enters our lands; he pays our price.”

Growls echoed from the night, sounding like agreement. Serefi’s head swung, however. “No, Ronan,” she replied decisively. “I think if we attack this man, many of us will die. Perhaps all of us.” Ronan sneered but made no move otherwise. Those glowing eyes showed no fear.

“I am not here to fight, if it can be helped,” Aran offered. “Aros knows I’ve had enough of fighting for one lifetime.” That was the simple truth. He would fight if needed, but he hoped for a better outcome. “That is why I did not strike back.”

“Then what do you want?” Ronan growled.

Before Aran could answer, Serefi hissed. “Stand down!” The larger man bowed his head at once and stepped back, though his yellow eyes burned at Aran.

“Serefi,” Ronan began in a milder tone. “Braith will-.”

“Leave Braith to me,” she snapped, cutting him off. He grimaced and fell silent. Serefi was very obviously the leader here. She cocked her head as she turned her green gaze back on Aran. “I wonder...” she said as if to herself. “Will you sheathe your sword, Aran? As a sign you mean us no harm?” Satisfied he was not going to be attacked, Aran nodded and did so, bringing a small smile from Serefi. “So, you can be obedient. That is good.”

He let her think what she wanted for now; his vala was pulling him further into the jungle. Perhaps she would take him where he needed to go. She came closer, until she was barely a foot away. Slowly, she reached out with a slim arm and tugged at the top laces of his shirt. They snapped under her strong fingers, revealing most of his chest.

Her tongue touched her lips again, something she seemed to do often, much like a snake testing the air. “You are heavily marked,” she said softly, her fingers tracing some of the runes carved into his skin. He’d received them in Sen’dara, an Orc town far to the south of here. This close, he could feel her clearly. Her spirit was deep, old, similar to a Human’s but different. Her emotions were simpler, more direct, basic, though he saw the intelligence in her eyes. Threaded through all that were the black tendrils of Maharad’s touch, though they were not as tightly woven as he’d feared. Maharad always worked more strongly on those that came willingly. Perhaps Serefi had not.

“You care for your people,” he murmured to her, barely moving his lips. “I will not harm them.” Her fingers hesitated on his chest for a moment before she withdrew.

“What are you?” she asked quietly. Her eyes found his. They seemed to gather the moonlight.

“I am the answer to your problem.” She searched his gaze for a long moment, then nodded so imperceptibly he almost missed it. Just like that, he had her trust.

“I can feel him wanting me to hate you,” she whispered. “But I will not. I am still me.” That last seemed more for herself than for Aran. He wondered what these Druids had been going through, possessed as they were. No doubt some of them had given themselves over fully. Serefi, however, appeared to still be fighting.

“Serefi?” Ronan said tentatively, shifting his feet on the ground. His voice broke the spell that had settled over Aran and her, and she whirled smoothly, swaying over to the shaggy man.

“You are a loyal wolf, Ronan,” she told him as she touched his cheek. “You may mate with me this evening.” Aran blinked. Ronan grinned toothily. “Gather the others. We are heading to the den.” With a nod, Ronan dropped to hands and knees and began to change once more, growing, sprouting thick hair, his fingers merging into paws. There was a sickening grinding noise as his bones shifted and altered their size and shape. The whole process took maybe ten seconds. Before he padded off into the jungle, he fixed Aran with a look that said if he tried anything with Serefi, he would regret it.

Serefi motioned Aran to walk with her, and he did. Rustling from all around them suggested the other Druids were maintaining a tight ring around their leader, staying just out of sight. Aran said nothing for a time, simply walking in silence beside the graceful yet somewhat alien creature. She remained in her human form, the sleek lines of her body seeming to slide through the trees as they moved. “You are trusted, for the time being,” she said quietly after a few minutes. She didn’t look his way, instead keeping her eyes dead ahead. Aran got the sense she was considering things, thinking deeply. “That means my clan will not harm you unless you try something first.”

“I understand,” Aran replied. It was no wonder she was the leader; only an extremely strong will could keep Maharad at bay. He wondered how long she’d been fighting the darkness. At least he hadn’t been forced to kill her and her companions. That, in itself, was a relief. “How many in your clan?”

“We are twenty-three in number, not counting the children.” Something about the way she said ‘children’ sounded significant.

“And this Braith is of another clan?”

Serefi shot him a sharp glance, green eyes hot. “Be careful, Aran. You tread where danger lies.”

He met her stare with an even one of his own. Not challenging, just steady. “Has the sickness that threatens you taken them fully?” he kept his voice low, for her ears only.

Serefi flowed around the rotting stump of an old fig, disappearing from sight for a moment before she answered. “Yes,” she said. “I think so. They are ... Different from us now. Perhaps they always were.” She sounded a little sad about that. Her head turned to him again. “Can you really help us? Or am I foolish enough to believe the lies of a stranger?”

“I can help,” Aran replied levelly. Serefi merely nodded. She had no more to say until they reached a wide clearing illuminated by moonlight. It was quite beautiful really, the silvery light glinting off the low ferns and bushes growing here, without the oppression of their larger cousins. A rough path led from where they’d entered, through the brush to the mouth of a cave opening, yawning out of the sheer face of a rocky hill.

Serefi stopped just inside the clearing and motioned Aran to do the same. A moment later, a massive wolf exited the cave, yellow eyes gleaming as it padded forward silently. Mostly white, the wolf stopped a few yards away and changed slowly into a woman, tall and lean. She was not old - perhaps only a few years older than Aran by appearance - but her long, shaggy hair was white, shining in the moonlight. She looked at Serefi and gave a deep nod of respect. “Friend?” she asked as her eyes flicked to Aran. Her voice was low for a woman’s, husky.

“Friend,” Serefi confirmed.

The new woman smirked. “I was wondering why you didn’t eat him.” Her gleaming eyes gave him a once-over. “He looks tasty.” Aran wasn’t sure if she was flirting or if she actually wanted to eat him. He didn’t want to know. One by one, other large animals began to filter in from the jungle, filling the clearing. There was Ronan, the grey wolf he’d seen earlier, and two other wolves, but there was also a tiger, two enormous bears - one brown and the other black - a leopard, and another snake, this one darker and only slightly smaller than Serefi had been. They made a wall of fur and fangs and claws between Aran and Serefi and the cave. He made himself relax; if Serefi wanted him dead, she could have tried it by now.

They began to shift as one, each returning to their Human forms, until a disparate collection of men and women stood there, watching him intently, their faces hard, their eyes alight with suspicion.

“This is Aran,” Serefi began in a firm tone. “He claims he can help us with the sickness. He is not to be harmed unless I command it.” There were a few sneers at that.

“If he can help, then why hasn’t he?” a short, sleekly curved woman said. She had been the leopard. There were mutters of agreement from the others, but only mutters.

Serefi fixed the shorter woman with a hard stare. “Because I have not requested it yet, Jali,” she said, her voice dangerously soft. “If you wish to challenge me, I accept.” There was a moment of tension between the women before Jali inclined her head respectfully and took a step back.

Serefi turned her attention to Aran. “Jali is correct, if out of line.” She shot another glare at Jali, one that promised retribution later. “If you can rid us of what plagues us, we should be about it.” She took a deep breath and squared herself as if preparing for pain. “If you are not what you say, my clan will tear you apart, no matter how good you are with that blade.” All around the clearing, feet shifted, and eager smiles played across some faces. Not all, though. One or two looked curious.

Aran would have preferred a good meal and a rest first; purging Maharad from a soul took no small effort. Still, with her expectant eyes on him - and his need for more allies - he decided to go along. At least she was doing this willingly. “Ready yourself,” he told her, stepping close. “This may hurt.” He opened his vala and wrapped her in it, so they were both in a bubble together.

He sensed the dark tendrils at once, threading through her mind and body, her soul. She was different again to any other he’d known, as strange as the Giants, in her own way, yet closer to Human. Their eyes locked together, and Aran placed his right palm on the centre of her chest. Yes, the physical contact made it easier. Her skin was as smooth as it looked, silky against his hand. Her soul hummed beneath, a warm light stifled by writhing shadows.

The other Druids all fell silent. Watching, waiting, hoping. Aran took a deep breath and pushed light into her, wrapping it around the dark webs, forcing them back. To his surprise, they resisted. Serefi’s breath hitched, her eyes widening slightly. “I hope you can do better than that,” she whispered for his ears alone, her lips barely moving. Aran had hoped to save some strength, to keep a reserve in case he needed it, but if he was to do to this now, he would need everything.

“Be ready,” he said firmly as he drew forth his full power and concentrated it into the bubble, into Serefi. A strangled gasp escaped her throat as her head flew back, her eyes bulging as a storm of light swirled around her, within her. The tendrils receded reluctantly, but they gave way, creeping back until only a seed remained, a dark speck that would grow again if left untreated. “Be gone,” Aran said, wrapping a fist of his vala around that seed and crushing it from existence. Dimly, a distant cry of rage echoed in his mind; Maharad had felt that. Aran had wanted him to. I am here, Maharad. And I am not going away.

He took his hand back and sagged wearily, shutting off his vala. Maharad was getting stronger; Aran had not had to work this hard before to expel him. How Serefi had resisted so long was remarkable. The tall woman collapsed to the ground heavily as soon as Aran withdrew his hand, as if that had been the only thing holding her up. Her clan rushed in at once, but she waved them off as she pushed herself up to a sitting position, breathing hard. She regarded Aran, her face unreadable. A breeze rippled through the clearing, rustling the leaves.

Straightening, Aran offered her a hand. She took it, despite just refusing the help of her clan, who were watching tensely. “I ... Am free,” she said slowly, putting a hand to her head. “I cannot hear his voice. He is gone!” Unexpectedly, she threw her arms around Aran’s neck and kissed him hard on the mouth. “Thank you,” she said sincerely once she’d released him. He felt some regret when she stepped back; she was a fine woman.

Serefi turned to face her clan, her face alight with exuberance. “There is a chance yet for us, my friends. This man has been sent to redeem us, to give us back our freedom.” Hope grew on the faces of her clanmates. Serefi turned to Aran. “You will do for them what you did for me?”

Aran nodded. “Of course, but healing you has drained me almost completely. I will need to eat, and rest for a short time.” That was putting it mildly; he felt as if he could sleep for a week, and his middle felt hollow. It was all he could do not to sit down right here. He hoped he had not just made a mistake; he was easy pickings right now if his enemies knew where to find him. They would not expect him to be here, though. In that, he was as safe as he could be.

Serefi barked orders at once, sending two Druids off to find food. They hurried away, shifting into their animal forms, leaving the clearing as wolf and leopard. The others dispersed, some going into the cave, others moving off into the jungle. Two stayed, Ronan and a burly fellow who very much resembled the great brown bear he had been upon arrival. They talked quietly a short distance away, keeping one eye each on Aran and Serefi.

Serefi led Aran over by the cave entrance, where she sat on a wide, flat rock, gesturing him to do the same beside her. He sat gladly, suppressing a sigh. “Your power,” Serefi began, “where does it come from?”

“It is a gift,” he answered, setting his pack down at his feet. His stomach rumbled, but all that was in the pack were a couple of those hairy-shelled fruits from the desert oasis where he’d encountered Sadani, and he was hungry for something more filling. “From Aros.”

“He is your god?”

Aran nodded. “He is. Do you worship a god?”

Serefi looked around the clearing. “My god is all around us,” she replied. “The land, the trees, the sky. Life is given and taken according to her whims.” She paused. “And we pay homage to Ranada, the Mother of Beasts, for without her, we would not exist.”

That caught Aran’s attention. Ranada was a Titan. A lesser one, but still powerful. “I have heard stories of Ranada,” he said carefully. “She is one of the world guardians.”

Serefi showed no reaction to his words, perhaps because she was hiding something, or maybe they just meant nothing to her. “She has many names, I am sure. It is said one day she will return to us, to lead us again, though I doubt it is true.”

Aran wondered how much he could tell Serefi, and how much he couldn’t. He felt conflicted. He was here to help, wasn’t he? He found himself telling her about Vasuda, and Sadani, and what he knew about the others. Serefi listened with interest, asking questions now and then. They were interrupted when the leopard padded back into the clearing, dragging a stag carcass by the neck. The stag was massive, the antlers on the lower side of its head carving through the undergrowth, but the leopard was almost as big, and strong enough that the stag appeared an easy burden.

The huge cat - Jali - stopped in front of Aran and unceremoniously released the stag’s neck, letting its head flop to the ground. She watched him expectantly, yellow eyes glowing in the night, for all the world like a housecat that had brought him a mouse as a gift, except the cat was a giant leopard, and the mouse was a prime buck. Beside him, Serefi studied him as if working something out. After a few moments, Jali shifted back into her human form. She seemed annoyed as she folded her arms over her breasts.

“Well?” she said curtly. “Is this not enough?” She gestured at the stag between them. Its neck was punctured cleanly, two holes leaving dark, wet trails over pale fur.

“It’s plenty,” Aran assured her. “Thank you.” The women continued watching him.

“Are you not going to eat?” Serefi enquired. Aran blinked. Of course. They eat their meat raw. He stifled a grimace. It was going to take him some time to dress the carcass, and more time to prepare a fire. His stomach rumbled in complaint as he sighed and got to his feet, rolling up his sleeves and drawing his belt knife. Jali tensed, and the two across the clearing turned sharply toward him, but they all relaxed as he knelt by the stag and began to work. Elaina had taught him how to butcher. It seemed a lifetime ago now. Serefi watched with curiosity as he stripped the skin, exposing the flesh beneath.

“What are you doing?” Jali demanded hotly. “You are ruining it!” Aran gave her a patient look and kept on. A small crowd gathered after a few moments, some fascinated, some offended, as he separated meat from bone. There was far too much here for just him alone, so he set aside enough cuts for himself and offered the Druids the rest. They dragged it away eagerly and set to, kneeling down on all fours and eating it like animals. Aran shook his head. The gizzards he put in a pile nearby; he would bury those later. Well, that had been his intention. No sooner had he completed the sloppy pile of entrails than a couple of Druids scooped them up and took them off to the cave.

“For the younglings,” Jali said when she saw his expression. She was squatting on the other side of the stag - what was left of it - from Aran, her elbows on her knees.

“Are there many?” he asked her, trying to ignore the sounds of the feast happening nearby. It was almost enough to put him off eating. Almost.

“More than a dozen, now,” Jali replied in answer to his question. Something about her tone made that seem important, but he didn’t get the chance to enquire further. One of the Druids - Ronan - rose from the circle around the carcass, his hands full of bloody flesh, his mouth and chin wetly dark. He went to Serefi where she was still perched on the rock and offered her the flesh. She eyed him for a long moment before accepting, reaching out and taking it from his hands. It was the heart, Aran realised. She bit into it like an apple, her eyes locked to Ronan’s. The other Druids all watched the exchange, frozen where they were. Something significant was happening.

Serefi stood, still chewing. Then she shoved the heart at Rohan’s mouth, mashing it roughly on his face. With a growl, he bit down, tearing a piece free. The other Druids hooted, roared and yipped. Aran wished he knew what he’d just seen. His eyebrows rose as Serefi lunged at Ronan, leaping at him and wrapping long limbs around his lean body. Between one moment and the next, they were on the ground, Ronan on his back, Serefi atop him. They began to rut right there, only a few paces away.

Aran looked askance at Jali. She pulled her eyes away from the display nearby. He couldn’t tell in the dark, but he thought her cheeks were flushed. “Serefi has accepted him as her mate,” she explained, settling herself so her knees were on the ground, spread wide apart. She kept her back straight, arms locked with her hands on her thighs. The pose pushed her chest forward, drawing attention to her pale breasts. His eyes dipped lower, over her flat belly to the narrow strip of light hair just above her sex. She saw him looking, and her lips curled. “It has been a long wait. Ronan will be glad. He has pursued her for almost two summers.”

Aran tried to ignore Jali’s body language. He did not know the ways of Druids yet, but he knew when a woman was offering. Other Druids began to pair off at once, and soon the clearing was filled with grunting, purring, and the slapping of flesh.

Sighing again, Aran stacked the meat on the flat rock to keep it off the ground and met Jali’s hot stare. It would seem his stomach was going to have to wait. Standing, he pulled his shirt off. Jali licked her lips. He still had work to do here; Maharad had strings tied to the rest of this clan yet, but he was in no shape to help further until he’d restored his energy, and he wouldn’t be able to do that until he could cook the meat. And he couldn’t do that until this celebration - he thought that’s what it was - had run its course.

“I am low on energy,” he told Jali as he stripped off his boots and pants. Was he getting distracted here? No, his gut was telling him, as strange as this was, this was where he needed to be.

“I do not care,” she replied, turning around and crawling a short distance away. She presented herself on all fours, her tight rump held high, the plump lips of her sex easily visible. “If I fuck you to death, it will be a good death,” she said over her shoulder. Aran’s body hummed with arousal as he got in position behind Jali, grasping her slim hips firmly. His hands were still bloody from the butchering, but Jali did not care.

All around them, the wild mating continued. To his left, Serefi and Ronan were still at it, her firm body glistening with a sheen of sweat as she rode her new mate. To his right, the hulking bear-Druid was mounted behind the white-haired woman, vigorously hammering her with powerful thrusts that clapped like miniature thunder. She growled like a wolf, yellow eyes flashing as she threw herself back on him. Up ahead, the woman who had been the black bear was astride a tall, lean man. Aran thought he’d been the tiger. Her ebony skin shone brilliantly in the moonlight as she undulated her thick, solid body as if trying to grind him into the ground. She was not a fat woman, just big. The man gripped her mammoth breasts as if holding on for dear life.

Just as Aran pressed the head of his cock against Jali’s slick sex, a loud voice pulled him up short. “No!” All heads whipped to Serefi, who was lifting herself off Ronan. His erection slapped wetly against his middle as it came free of her body. Her eyes were on Aran. “He is mine first, Jali!” The two women stared at one another for a long moment, and for a heartbeat Aran thought Jali might push backward, impaling herself on him, but she relented, instead crawling over to the pair in front of her and settling herself over the tiger-Druid’s face. She did shoot one more look at Aran that promised she would have him later.

With a predatory smile, Serefi positioned herself on all fours, facing Ronan. He growled deeply as her head dipped over his waist, and he tangled long fingers in her hair. He eyed Aran. “She wants you to fuck her, healer,” he said in a hard voice. “I suggest you obey.”

Aran had been in stranger situations, but not many. Even the vala memories that occasionally offered him insights had shown him few things this bizarre. Still, the experience was exciting, if visceral. He moved to Serefi and got to his knees behind her. Her skin was silky, her body smooth and firm. He entered her easily, sliding all the way to the hilt in one stroke. Her moan was muffled, but he heard it. Her inner muscles massaged him, pulling at him, reluctantly letting him withdraw and welcoming him back with each thrust.

She pushed back insistently, wanting more. He gave it, and soon he was rutting as wildly as the others, losing himself in the animal pleasure. A haze settled over his mind, blurring his thoughts. He could have pushed it away, but he let it be, allowing himself to experience the moment here, with these creatures, so wild and unabashed. When Serefi was satisfied, Jali was there, ready for what she’d almost had before. The others followed, sometimes alone, sometimes in groups of two or three.

At his full ability, he would have used his vala to increase their pleasure, to add to the experience, but as he was, he let things be, let them unfold naturally. The Druid women took what they wanted from him, using him for their pleasure until they were sated. There was an odd sort of honesty about it he could appreciate. His final partner was the dark, round bear woman, her body tremendously curved and soft, yet he felt the firm muscle underneath. She rode him savagely as the sky began to turn grey with the dawn, until finally she fell to the side, exhausted. When Aran rolled over and mounted her, she spread her thighs readily and received him, using her thick legs to lock him into her body. In the way of the Druids, he chased his pleasure without thought, acting only on instinct. He let himself go when he was ready, shuddering as he erupted inside her.