The Huntress' Mark

by Fluxom

Tags: #cw:cannibalism #cw:protagonist_death #f/f #f/nb #fantasy #nobody_actually_dies_but_better_safe_than_sorry_tagging #predator/prey #blood #does_it_count_as_cannibalism_if_its_fairies? #does_this_count_as_vore? #fae #fear_play #hard_vore #they_eat_the_human_bits_to_tf_her #transformation

The mark on Clarion’s chest always simmered with a constant heat. It was a reminder in every moment of every day of her life that she had been chosen.

BIG content warnings for gore and viscera here. This is a story about someone being hunted and the stuff that follows that, so uh, watch out.

The mark on Clarion’s chest always simmered with a constant heat. It was a reminder in every moment of every day of her life that she had been chosen. Ever since the day a child had become lost in the woods and all the village had gone up in furs, spears, and lanterns to chase after them in the dark night just to be met by Her at the gate.

Clarion had been on the night watch back then, perched upon the walls with all the woods in a panorama around her. She’d seen the lurking shadow slither between the branches from afar, the fairy lights flickering and dancing across the distance, and then the horns that rose from the bushes. At any of them she should have screamed and rang the bells, but the air in her lungs was already thick in awe. Her spear clattered to her side and she fell to her knees as the shadow coalesced into a form, hunched over at the hip and with great horns spiraling out from Her head. Noise dissipated into a high pitched whine around her, heat bubbled underneath her collar, breath strained to gather through her throat.

The Huntress had arrived, and all the village shook in equal parts fear and worship. Surrounded by her retinue of elfin *things* it stood taller than any structure, with bows and spears and all manner of viscous implements dripping from her torso. Countless eyes shimmered beneath the curtains of it’s hair. A mouth with far too many teeth twisted underneath the shadow over its face. And yet, clutched to Her finger at her side was the very same lost child.

There was action that Clarion missed. Something about the mother screaming and running to embrace her lost child without a care for the dangers. She didn’t see it, as her vision was too entrapped by the sight of the uncanny followers that stalked around Her. The closest one that she could see clearly, something that looked like a human with limbs too long, eyes too large, and ears that pointed as sharp spikes beneath the antlers upon their head, looked back upon the human on the wall.

In hindsight, Clarion knew she should have run. Or even looked away. But everything in her body refused to listen to her and instead stared back into those black eyes. The thing’s face broke into a too wide smile and it danced on elkin legs to The Huntress’s side to pull on Her hair and gesture furtively at her. Then The Huntress’ gaze was upon her alone, and Clarion felt as if her soul screamed to escape her still living flesh just to hide.

Her hand rose through the air, stretched out towards Clarion’s kneeling form, and rested a claw upon her chest. Mercy granted her reprieve by unconsciousness in that moment, and next thing she knew she was in her own bed with that damned heat simmering upon her chest.

To be marked was to be hunted. Everyone in the village knew that, and when they saw the mark on her flesh their gazes turned to ones of pity. She could run, she could hide, she could dash screaming into the night but no matter where she vanished off to The Huntress would find her.

To this village this was equal parts a blessing and a curse. The Huntress was like a god to her people, and her presence was enough to shower prosperity their kind had long lacked before coming to be under her boughs. But at the same time, Clarion was already dead in their eyes. Her marriage was annulled, her work shunned her, her duties to the village were struck from records, not even her friends still bothered to look upon the walking corpse they apparently saw her as. Those that still spoke to her only spoke of the good fortunes she’d bring to the village while pity filled their eyes. The rest didn’t even look at her.

Isolated and alone, despair took over Clarion’s life. She remained in bed and refused to eat but hunger refused to touch her. She took to the streets in only her undershirt and skirt, but the cold winds weren’t brave enough to deny The Huntress her prey. She screamed into the blizzards to take her already but even that denied her.

Clarion held a hand against her chest to feel the heat still burning against her skin. Enough of this. She trudged bare-foot through the snow out of her village and directly into the woods. She refused to continue this half life in fear and anticipation. The dark of the night closed in around her with every step, but still she continued. The leveled road gave way to tumbling hills woven over with roots and briars, but still she continued. Even the distant flicker of lights, be they fairy fires or the glimmer of the moon off a predator’s eyes, wasn’t enough to dissuade her.

She continued until exhaustion, apparently still brave enough to touch what belonged to Her, caught up to her heels and dragged her to her knees. So instead of walking Clarion screamed, “Huntress! I’m right here, you oaf!” Her anger gave form to a false bravado that barely lasted long enough to make the one sentence. She knew she didn’t have the courage to actually face that Thing again. Even the memory of Her hunched form was enough to steal the air from Clarion’s lungs. To look upon Her again directly would likely be enough to strike her down on its own.

This line of thought was promptly derailed by an eager predator tackling Clarion’s side. A mess of orange fur, roaring fangs, and claws raking over her flesh was all the prelude that dear Clarion had to her being struck and scattered into the carpet of snow beneath her. But she didn’t scream or flail or run. She just sighed in relief. Fucking *finally*.

The tiger that had leapt upon her dove at her neck to rip it out, and stopped short. Oh gods damn it all, Clarion whined. The beast sniffed her chest, paused, and then laid down upon her instead. Even the beasts of the woods denied her then. With several hundred pounds of muscle and bone upon her body and fresh claw marks marring her arms and torso Clarion was well and truly stuck in place, her only companion a panting hungry animal that dripped hot air over her face.

This is just rude, she thought to herself. Why couldn’t The Huntress have taken me back then?

Minutes underneath her captor trailed into hours, and with hours the snow parted and the sky cleared to reveal the red moon heavy in the sky above. Light filled the woods with an intensity that scattered moonbeams through the leaves to dance over the snowy floor. Then a shadow slipped across the horizon. Horns rose from the underbrush, followed by curtains of hair above a body of weapons.

The Huntress arrived, dragging the already skinned corpse of a deer behind her. “Come,” She beckoned, her voice the rolling of thunder through the air. The tiger obeyed, leaping off of Clarion’s prone body and upon the offered corpse in one motion. Just as Clarion expected, the goddesses’ aura was enough to keep her pinned to the floor regardless. This is it. It was happening. Clarion didn’t know if she felt relief or fear, but something burned through her chest with raw intensity.

The footsteps of The Huntress’ retinue filled the air as they shuffled around Clarion’s body. More of those uncanny faces, more horns, more razor ears and wide smiles beneath wild hair. The Huntress herself stepped forward through the masses and knelt above Clarion. This much closer the aura was ever the more intense. She felt her lungs refuse to budge, her heart became too afraid to pump blood, her muscles tensed all at once while her skin SCREAMED from the blazing heat of Her breath burning against her body.

From her position she could finally see clearly beneath the curtain of hair to see Her face properly. It flickered, a moment far too many eyes and far too many mouths, then another a facade of human expression as She gazed deep through Clarion’s own eyes. Understanding of what she saw under there refused to coalesce into the human’s brain. She only knew she had to run. She had to run and get away far away right now, she had to RUN why was she still laying there gods damn it all MOVE-

“She’s ready.” The Huntress stood up and removed herself from Clarion’s view. At once a fresh fire bloomed from the mark and raced through her veins. Exhaustion became energy, fear turned into panic, and she leapt from her place on the floor to dash blindly into the woods. She had to run away. Even the fact that she barreled through the elfin things that followed the Huntress didn’t register in her mind at that point. Where she was going wasn’t even a question. Only the act of going forward. Somewhere. If she got far enough maybe she could hide and beg the world to not let her be found but-

An arrow planted itself into the tree next to her. No time to think. Her bare legs dashed through the snow with an unnatural speed, grazing across its surface instead of sinking into it. She leapt over fallen trees and across rivers, dashed through thorny bushes without a mark upon her skin after, clambered cliffs and hills with strength she never had possible before. But it wasn’t enough. The hoots and cheers of the hunting party chased after her with each step. The fairy fires to her sides only gained in number. In the dark of her mind she could almost feel their breath tracing against the back of her neck while too long fingers reached out to choke the life from her.

From her sides riders burst through the bushes atop unnatural stags and let loose a volley of arrows that scattered like leaves around Clarion’s form. From behind more chased upon her heels and threw spears that left cuts across her skin. Her heart thrummed, louder than it ever had before in her life. Wind, cold and bitter brimmed within her lungs brilliant and ALIVE. She screamed into the darkness with a guttural shout that matched the mix of fear and excitement that coursed through her form.

“Every step you take only heightens my love for you, little lost one.” The Huntress’ voice played on the wind. The prey leapt atop the side of a fallen tree and bounded up it’s length with claws lashing after her every step of the way. “When the sun rises I will kiss every step you’ve taken on your path.” Clarion leapt from atop the end of the tree, soaring above the greenery into a blanket of stars. “For your blood my kin will bless every inch of you.” She landed into a roll and kicked off again, other fae already crashing upon their hooves with knives in hand around her. “For your flesh I will give you joy eternal.” Arrows grazed her flesh, leaving bleeding wounds upon her surface. “And for your life I save my greatest gift of all.” Clarion burst into a clearing in the woods where the moon shone heavy and bright in the sky over a blanket of clear snow.

In the distance she saw The Huntress stand up tall, bow in hand, and leap into the sky. Time itself seemed to slow to a crawl as she came between Clarion and the moon. The muscles on her arms strained with sweat against the string as they pulled back the bow, drawing an arrow from pure moonlight. Her body writhed with joy as she aimed the deathly weapon upon her prey. Her suddenly too human face was grinning wide in open pleasure, her countless eyes all baring their whites in grand focus. She fired, and convulsed on pure rapture as she did. The wind carried the sound of her moan like a deafening wave across the totality of her woods.

Clarion felt her body move again as the arrow arced towards her. The mark on her chest burned even brighter. She tried to run, but only made one step. Then the arrow of pure moonlight struck the back of her knee and destroyed it, leaving her to buckle off the useless limb and collapse against the snow. The fae did not give her the time so much as yell before they collapsed upon her. Countless hands grasped at her flesh and pulled, moved her onto her back, tore at her clothes. Knives pierced the skin of her wrists and ankles, then darted across her form.

Clarion barely felt pain as they stripped the skin from her. Human flesh flayed by fae knives, then human muscles cut, parted, and peeled away from her. The blonde one with wide, black eyes was rooting through her stomach and tossing aside offal until they reached their prize, and with another cut peeled out her human liver. They yelped in joy even as the blood trailed down their wrists, holding it high as a grand prize as they leapt off Clarion’s rapidly reducing form.

The Huntress landed at the side of the clearing and the fey with her liver ran to Her. They fell to their knees and presented it to Her. The Huntress grasped the organ between two claws, paused to ponder it, and then split it in half. One piece she ate in a single gulp, the other she gave back to Her retainer. The blonde fey seemed overjoyed at this, and held it tight as they rushed back to Clarion’s side.

By then Clarion was already much less than she had been. They’d taken away her muscles for meat, stripped organs from the bones, then peeled back the bones from her. The blonde fey landed upon what was left and wrapped a bloody hand around her throat. “Mine,” They said, then devoured the liver in a vicious display. Each bite resonated through what was left of Clarion’s being, eliciting a strained gasp as *something* inside of her bent and shifted under the repeated blows. “Mine,” They repeated with bloody lips. They- Kierya, the name intruded into her thoughts, grinned wider as the understanding finally blossomed in her mind.

She was theirs now. A gift from The Huntress to her retainer. Kierya’s precious something, waiting for them to once more give form to. It was at that moment of uncertainty that Kierya pulled out the fresh deer hide and wrapped it around all that was left of Clarion. In an instant new flesh surged beneath it. From the pile of fae she burst forth with Kierya upon her back. Great antlers curled off of her head, brilliant fur coated her skin, and upon six legs she ran anew. All around the two the fey burst into raucous cheers, many taking to their own mounts to chase after them.

The night, a moment ago deathly cold and filled with danger pointed upon her, was suddenly a brilliant canvas around Clarion. Where once in her heart thrummed fear there was now the brilliant light of joy, and as her hooves hammered the ground that joy only magnified by the second. She felt Kierya’s presence upon her back as clearly as she felt her own hearts beating within her chest, and their thoughts danced within her mind just as clearly. Before had been the hunt to claim what was Hers, and now it was time to celebrate the way they knew best.

At Kierya’s whim Clarion kicked off the ground with her mighty hind legs and sent the two soaring through the air. Countless more fey, still bloody from consuming Clarion’s former flesh and with her bones in hand, rode upon their unnatural deer and followed suit after. Besides them The Huntress burst out of the canopy, Herself riding upon a chariot while brandishing a great whip. She swung the whip overhead, and the wind picked up into an utter storm once more. Lashing belts of air matched the thundering of hooves as countless fey arose to march through the night, becoming a veritable hurricane that swept through the woods entirely and spilled out upon the world in it’s revelry.

Together, they hunted. Across the plains the wind stormed into tornadoes that swept buildings apart and within it’s winds Kierya struck down prey left and right. Over mountains they scoured stone off the paths and scattered birds into nets, then broke into churches just to unleash them for chaos. Through valleys the great gates of human civilization shuddered against their force, then buckled and swung wide to allow countless fey to storm through the streets. The fires surged high and leapt out of their cauldrons entirely to dance upon the air. Roofs scattered apart and shattered against the walls. Somewhere in the middle of it all, The Huntress even swung a boot full of gold into someone’s window.

Kierya was laughing at the chaos, themself brandishing a torch they used to feed the flame ever higher. Clarion realized she was laughing too, as one in the aimless joy of the storm. The two shouted happily as they ran up the walls of the great church and kicked off the mighty bell, once more launching into the night sky before crashing into a river. Clarion decided to be mean and try playing a trick on her rider, bucking once she landed to toss the fey off into the waters.

Kierya, however, was too quick and grabbed the scruff of Clarion’s neck as she flew. The fey pulled, and the deer skin became a cloak with which they wrapped themself in before capturing Clarion upon their back and prancing across the water’s surface. Clarion was shocked for a moment to once more have human hands, but realized quickly that her limbs were too long, her fingers too slender, and that the antlers were still wrapped around her skull. She knew without a doubt that she was looking out upon the world through eyes of black night, and clung tightly to Kierya with elkin thighs against their back. The wind whipped her wild hair out around her, lashed her bare skin, water formed a constant spray of mist around her, and in the middle of all she couldn’t help but laugh even louder.

Humans, the foolish little things they were, would chalk the random chaos up to a freak wind storm and pay no mind to the fact that it started in the woods before crawling across mountains and barreled through various cities before scattering out into the ocean. Some of the wiser few kept their heads down and their comments about wild hunts to themselves. One particularly lucky and wise individual took their surprise boot of gold and told nobody about it ever. To Clarion however it was a night of endless and wholly reckless revelry, where all the worry and care of the past or future simply melted away and Kierya and her laughed and played and hunted again and again and again, ever under the watchful care of The Huntress.

When the sun finally rose and they all scattered back to Her woods to rest, Clarion collapsed upon a bed of still living flowers and leaves besides Kierya. The deerskin cloak, now once more just a cloak, was draped over both their forms as a blanket. Kierya busied themselves petting Clarion all over, endlessly giggling in excitement at their new possession. Fingers through hair, hands squeezing her tummy, pinching her thighs, even fiddling with Clarion’s mouth over idle curiosity. Once satisfied they rested their fingertips around Clarion’s neck. “Mine,” They whispered.

“Yours.” Clarion smiled back.

Blame doeposting for filling me with inspiration that sent me onto a hyperfocused daze to write this. My only saving grace is that I managed to keep it contained enough to not turn into another 50-page diatribe like with Dust.


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