In Kuroinu

The settlement was vertical.

That was the first thing. Everything was UP. Treehouses built into the canopy, connected by rope bridges and spiral staircases that wrapped the trunks. Glowing fungi lanterns hung from branches at different heights, gold-white light that made the whole place look like a city of fireflies. Nothing on the ground. Not a single building at the forest floor level. The lowest platforms were forty feet up and the highest were lost in the canopy.

The second thing was the women.

Elves. All of them. Dozens visible on the platforms and bridges, more moving between the treehouses, all of them stopping what they were doing when we walked in. A woman on a rope bridge froze mid-step. Two elves braiding something on a platform leaned over the railing and stared. A group near a well of clear water went silent all at once.

They were looking at me.

Every single one of them. The same expression Lucie had worn in the clearing, that fascinated fixation, except multiplied across an entire population. Pointed ears. Wide eyes. Mouths opening, closing, opening again. One of the younger-looking ones tugged another's sleeve and pointed. Another covered her mouth with both hands.

Whispers carried down from the platforms. Words I didn't understand, the same sustained vowels as Lucie's singing but spoken fast and hushed.

"They're discussing whether you're real," Lucie said. She was still holding my hand and walking like this was an ordinary afternoon. "Several of them think you might be an illusion."

"Flattering."

"The word they're using is closer to 'impossibility.' Nol has books with illustrations of males but most of the younger elves assumed they were myths."

Mila had pressed close to my other side. Her tail was tucked and her ears were rotating. Being stared at by forty elf women was apparently outside her comfort zone.

"They're all looking at him," she said.

"Yes."

"ALL of them."

"He's the first male they've ever seen, Mila. The first male most of them will ever see."

Mila's tail tucked tighter. Llusse was walking directly behind me and hadn't said a word since we'd entered the settlement. Her bow was on her back and her arms were crossed and her jaw was set. Her ears were pointed straight ahead and not moving at all, which was Llusse for furious or overwhelmed or both.

Filia and Leonora flanked us. Both had their hands near their weapons. Not drawn, not threatening, but visible.

"How many live here?" Filia asked.

"The light elf settlement has ninety-three. There are dark elf settlements deeper in the forest."

"Dark elves." Filia's voice shifted.

"They're our rivals. It's a long story. Don't worry about it today."

Tianne was looking up at the architecture with the expression she wore when encountering new magic. "The treehouses aren't built," she said. "They're grown. The wood is still alive. The whole structure is part of the trees."

"Of course," Lucie said. "We don't kill wood."

Lucie led us to the base of the largest tree in the settlement. The trunk was wider than a house and the treehouse at the top was more of a tree-hall, a structure that sprawled across multiple branches with walls of living wood and windows that were gaps in the bark that let light through. The spiral staircase up was carved into the trunk itself, each step a growth ring polished smooth by centuries of bare feet.

We climbed. My party strung out behind me, Lucie still holding my hand, the staircase narrow enough that we went single-file. Through the gaps in the bark the settlement was visible below, dozens of upturned faces watching us ascend.

One elf on a nearby platform waved. I waved back. She fainted.

"Don't do that," Llusse said from behind me.

The treehouse interior was a single large room. Living wood floor, living wood walls, the ceiling a lattice of branches with leaves filtering the light to a warm green-gold. Shelf-like growths held books and bottles and objects I didn't recognize. The air smelled like old paper and resin and honey.

And in the center, sitting on a wooden throne that had grown from the floor, was a child.

Pink twintails tied with black ribbons. Green eyes. A magenta cloak over a small frame, pooling around feet that didn't reach the floor. A wooden staff taller than her leaned against the throne's arm. She was tiny. One-forty-five, maybe less. She looked twelve.

She was one hundred and eighty-four thousand years old.

Nol. Norn Alfheim. The elder.

I knew her. The ancient who looked like a kid and could flatten armies without standing up. The trickster who'd been alive since before human civilization existed. In the source material she'd been playful and territorial and deeply, deeply powerful.

The playful part was not evident right now.

Her green eyes locked on me the instant I stepped through the doorway and they didn't move. The air in the room changed. Dense. Heavy. The magic I'd been feeling since entering the forest was concentrated here, pressing on my skin and my chest and my skull, and the source of it was the small girl on the wooden throne who was staring at me like I was a stain on her floor.

Leonora's hand went to her sword. Mila whimpered. Even Filia shifted her weight.

"A human." Nol's voice was high and clear and carried no warmth at all. "A male human. In MY forest."

She picked up her staff. Stood on the throne. Her eyes were level with mine from the elevated seat.

She slammed the staff on the floor.

Wind hit us. A blast of compressed air that erupted from the point of contact and expanded outward, shoving everything in the room backward. Books flew off shelves. Bottles rattled. Filia braced, boots sliding on the polished wood. Leonora dropped into a combat stance, one hand on her sword, the other shielding her face. Tianne stumbled backward into Mila, who caught her, ears flat. Llusse's hair blew back and she grabbed the doorframe.

I stood.

The wind hit me and I registered it. Full-force in my chest, in my face, in my planted legs. The Blessing held. Filia's absorbed swordsmanship kept my balance centered. Llusse's agility kept my feet planted. Tianne's reinforced durability kept my body from buckling. Leonora's raw strength in my core. Mila's reflexes holding steady.

I didn't move.

Nol's eyes narrowed.

"You didn't flinch," she said.

"You're one-forty-five."

The staff cracked against the floor again. Harder. The second blast was double the first, a concentrated column of wind magic aimed directly at my chest. My boots scraped. Six inches backward, the wood scoring under my heels. My shirt pressed flat against my torso and my hair whipped back and the pressure was enormous and sustained and my vision blurred at the edges.

I stayed standing.

The wind died. Leaves settled. A book landed on the floor with a flat thump.

Nol stepped down from the throne. Walked toward me. Her head came to my stomach. She tilted it back to look up at my face, the cloak dragging on the floor behind her, and her face was different. The hostility was there but underneath it, curiosity. The same curiosity Lucie had shown, except filtered through a hundred and eighty-four thousand years of seeing everything and being surprised by nothing.

"Hmm," she said.

She circled me. Once. Twice. On the third pass she stopped and sniffed. Her nose wrinkled. Then unwrinkled. Then wrinkled again.

"You smell like four women," she said. "And elf magic."

She looked at Llusse. Then back at me. Then at Llusse again. Back to me.

"Explain."

"DON'T-" Llusse started.

"I'm the summoned hero of Lesdea," I said. "We're heading north to fight the Demon King. We need to pass through the forest."

Nol looked up at me. Way up. The height difference was absurd. She looked like a child standing in front of a parent, except the child was older than every building I'd ever seen and could apparently punch holes in the air with a stick.

"The summoned hero," she repeated. "Lesdea's." She said the kingdom's name like she was trying a food she didn't expect to enjoy. "Those humans still do that ritual?"

"They do."

"And the smell?"

"It's part of the power."

"Being intimate with multiple women is part of your power." She said it flat. Testing it.

"Yes."

"Including my elf." She glanced at Llusse.

"She's not YOUR elf," Llusse said. Then, flushing: "And I'm not HIS."

Nol looked at Llusse for a long time. Her mouth twitched. Her eyebrows did two different things. She turned back to me.

"The forest has been sick," she said. The edge in her voice was duller now. "Monsters where there shouldn't be any. Corruption in the root systems. The Holy Tree is weakening and I cannot determine why."

She walked back to her throne and climbed onto it. Sat. Her feet dangled.

"Clean the corruption for us. The root caves beneath the Holy Tree are infested. Clear them." She tapped the staff once, gently. "Then we'll talk about passage."

"And if we refuse?" Leonora asked.

Nol looked at Leonora. Then at the staff mark on the floor where the wind had erupted.

"You won't," she said.

We were given a platform to rest on while Nol "considered our presence." The platform was a wide disc of living wood between three trees, with a woven canopy overhead and rope railings at the edges. Bedrolls made of moss and something softer than cotton had been laid out. A meal of fruit and nuts and honey had been left in clay bowls.

Lucie had excused herself with a smile and a wave and a lingering look at me that Llusse tracked with the intensity of a targeting scope.

The group settled in. Filia sat cross-legged near the edge, studying the settlement below. Leonora was testing the rope bridges for structural integrity. Tianne was examining the living wood of the platform with her glowing hands, gold light flickering. Mila was eating fruit with focused determination, her tail wagging slowly.

Llusse was standing at the far railing with her back to everyone and her arms crossed and her shoulders tight.

I walked over.

"Don't," she said, before I reached her.

"Don't what?"

"Whatever you're about to say. Don't."

I leaned on the railing beside her. The settlement stretched below and above, lanterns glowing, elves moving between platforms. A group of younger elves on a lower platform kept stealing glances up at our level.

"She could have killed us," Llusse said. Quiet. Her ears were flat against her skull. "That wind blast. She was holding back. If she hadn't been holding back-"

"She was testing."

"She was THREATENING. There's a difference." Her fingers were white on her crossed arms. "And you stood there like an idiot."

"I stood there because I could."

"What if you couldn't?"

"Then you would have caught me."

Her mouth opened. Closed. Her ears went pink at the tips.

She turned and grabbed my wrist. Hard. Her grip was strong for someone her size and her fingers dug in and she pulled me off the platform and down a narrow staircase that connected to a lower level.

"Llusse-"

"Shut up."

She pulled me behind a treehouse that jutted from the trunk at a forty-five-degree angle. The back side was sheltered by branches, invisible from the platforms above and below. A private pocket in the vertical settlement. The wood behind us was warm and alive, the bark rough under my hand when she pushed me against it.

Her face was flushed. Her ears were red from base to tip. Her chest was rising fast, short and sharp through her nose, and her green eyes were burning and her jaw was working on words she couldn't get out.

"That tiny elf terrifies me," she said. "And I need to feel something that isn't fear."

She kissed me.

Hard. Her mouth on mine, hands fisted in the front of my shirt, body pressing against me. She tasted like the fruit from the clay bowls and underneath it her mouth was hot and her lips were rough from biting them and she kissed like she was trying to prove she wasn't scared.

My back was against the bark and the living wood was warm through my shirt and her body was pressed flush against mine and I was already hard. I grabbed her hips and pulled her in and she ground against me through our clothes, the friction against my cock making me grip tighter, and she gasped into my mouth.

"Here?" I said against her teeth.

"Here. Now. Don't talk."

Her hands went to my belt. Fingers shaking. She got it open on the second try and wrapped her hand around my cock and squeezed and the cool forest air hit the exposed skin and then her grip was on me and the cool was gone. Her thumb dragged across the head and my hips jerked forward.

My hand went down the front of her shorts. She was wet. Already wet, slick and hot against my fingers, her hips jerking the second I touched her.

"Don't you dare say anything about this," she said. Her voice was shaking.

I pressed two fingers against her clit and her whole body twitched. She was soaked. The adrenaline and the fear and whatever else had done the work before I got there.

"I wasn't going to say anything."

"You were THINKING it."

"You're dripping."

"I TOLD you not to-" My fingers pushed inside her and her voice cut out. Her forehead dropped against my chest. Her hand on my cock squeezed harder. "Nn- don't- we don't have time for-"

I turned her.

She went. Braced her palms against the treehouse wall, the bark rough and warm under her hands. Her shorts were still on, pulled down just enough, bunched around her thighs. I was behind her with my belt undone and my cock pressed against her ass and the cool air was on both of us and where our skin touched it burned.

She spread her legs as far as the shorts allowed. Her back arched. She didn't look at me.

I lined up. Pressed the head against her. She was so wet the first contact was frictionless, slick and hot, and I pushed in.

"Ah-"

She bit it off. Her teeth caught her lower lip and held. Her fingers curled against the bark, nails digging in. I sank deeper and the tight heat of her clamped around me and my breath went out and I had to stop moving for a second because the standing angle compressed everything and she was tighter than she'd been in the tent two nights ago and the first full stroke hit bottom and she shuddered.

The sound of me sliding into her was loud. Wet. Obscenely loud in the sheltered pocket between the treehouses, where the branches made a natural amplifier. Her ears went red.

"People are going to-"

I pulled back and pushed in again. Slow. Full depth. The wet sound was louder the second time and she flinched at it.

"Then be quiet," I said.

"I AM being-"

I thrust harder. Her body rocked forward against the bark. Her palms slid on the wood and she braced harder, fingers splayed, and the sound of skin hitting skin joined the wet noise. Her ears were pointing straight back, tracking the platforms above us for footsteps, and her breathing had gone ragged through her nose.

"Harder," she whispered. "I can still think."

I grabbed her hip with one hand. Drove deeper. The angle shifted and the head of my cock dragged along the front wall and her voice broke.

"-ah- that's not- don't do that when I'm trying to-"

I did it again. Chased it. Her back arched harder and her head dropped between her shoulders and a moan came out of her that she couldn't stop, low and broken and the loudest sound either of us had made. She slapped a hand over her own mouth.

"Nn- nn-"

Behind her hand. Each thrust. Her body rocking forward and back and the wet sounds getting louder as she got wetter and my cock was slick with her and the friction was gone and it was just heat and pressure and the tight clench of her every time I bottomed out.

I was close. Too close, too fast. The standing angle and her clenching on every stroke. My grip on her hip was white-knuckled and my other hand was braced on the bark beside her head and I was breathing hard against the back of her neck and my breath was hot on her skin and she shivered.

"Look at me," I said.

She turned her head. Looked over her shoulder. Her hand still over her mouth. Her green eyes were wet and wide and her ears were burning and her face was red and her lips were swollen behind her fingers and she looked wrecked. Halfway gone. Fighting it.

I held her gaze and drove in deep and held.

Her eyes squeezed shut. Her hand dropped from her mouth. "Ah- right- right there- don't stop- please-"

Please. From Llusse.

I stopped holding back. Short, hard strokes, the bark scraping under my palm, her body jolting forward on each one. Her fingers scored the wood and tiny shoots pushed up around her nails and the living wood was growing under her hands. She didn't notice. She was past noticing.

"Nn- ah- the tree is- it's reacting- I don't care- don't stop- ah- ah-"

Her breathing went shallow. Quick. The pattern I'd learned. Short inhales through her mouth, each one higher than the last, her ears trembling at the tips and then going rigid, straight up, locked.

The tell.

I covered her mouth with my hand. She bit down. Her teeth sank into the pad of my palm, deep enough to bruise, and her pussy clenched around me in a rolling wave and her whole body went stiff and her back arched hard enough to press her shoulder blades against my chest.

She came with her teeth in my hand and a sound trapped behind my fingers that was half growl and half sob and the bark under her palms bloomed with tiny white flowers. Her legs shook. Her knees buckled and I caught her weight, one arm around her waist, still inside her, still moving because I was right there.

Two more strokes. The clenching of her orgasm pulled me over. I came inside her, buried deep, my forehead against the back of her neck, her hair in my face, the scent of her sweat and the warm wood and the new flowers opening. The warmth of it inside her and she made a quiet sound, a small "ah" with no force behind it, barely a breath. She was shaking. Her knees weren't working.

I held her up.

Breathing. Both of us. Loud in the quiet pocket between the treehouses. Somewhere above, voices. Elves moving between platforms. Normal settlement sounds that hadn't stopped for us.

She pulled my hand off her mouth. Examined the bite mark on my palm. Two half-moon crescents, red and deep.

"Your fault," she said. Her voice was rough.

I pulled out. Slick. A thread of wetness caught the light before it broke. She pulled her shorts up fast, turning away. Straightened her hair with both hands. Scraped at the flowers blooming on the bark.

"Evidence," she muttered. They kept growing back.

"We had this problem with Tianne."

"We are NOT having a conversation about this."

She turned to face me. Her ears were still red. Her eyes were bright and her cheeks were flushed and her mouth was swollen and she looked like a woman who'd been fucked against a tree and was furious about how much she'd enjoyed it.

"That didn't happen," she said.

"The bite mark on my hand says otherwise."

"Your hand walked into my teeth."

"That's your story."

"That's what happened." She crossed her arms. Her ear twitched. "And if that tiny ancient elf says one word about smelling you on me, I'm burning this forest down."

She walked back to the staircase. Straightened her bow strap. Smoothed her expression into blankness that would convince nobody.

The flowers on the bark where she'd braced her hands were still growing. Small white petals, faintly luminous in the filtered light.

I scraped them off again. They grew back.

I left them.

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