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“She will not take direction,” the men complain. “She’s too much trouble.”
Therefore, I’m an albatross around Father’s neck. And now that I’ve been labeled a wanton slut by the entire community for touching myself, no one will ever offer for me. And what use is a girl-child if she can’t be married off for profit? This is my whole purpose.
“The multigods proclaim men are the head of the household and women are to subjugate themselves to the will of their husband,” my father thunders from the pulpit.
Meanwhile, I glance over at the altar and admire the statues of the gods on display, half of whom are female, and I ponder even deeper subversion:
Is Father correct in his interpretation of the word of the gods?
Why are themenin our religious community in charge?
And my favorite: Is this the life I want for myself?
But today, tears track down my face as I pack because I’m readying to leave the only life I’ve ever known.
This “masturbation incident” was the last straw, and everyone in my family is eager to rid themselves of me. My two eldest sisters, who always thought I was “full of myself,” gleefully pack my meager belongings, ready to make the trip with me to the big city. I pull on a long, dark nun habit, place the shroud over my head and walk out the front door for the last time.
My mother’s final words are, “You’re dead to me.”
Father doesn’t even bother to step out of his office.
I’m allowed an expensive transporter trip for my journey off planet. My sisters drop me off at the station without a backward glance. I’m not going to Salo for a once-in-a-lifetime pilgrimage to tour the altars of the birthplace of our religion. Instead, I’ll see nothing there but the inside of a cold monastery. For the rest of my life.
I clutch my red suitcase as tears burn behind my eyes.
2
Cabal
There’s a commotion in the courtyard.
I put down my quill and wipe ink off my claws, irritated at the interruption in my restoration project. Normally this quiet monastery is my solace. The window is open, but I can’t see what’s happening from this vantage point. A military vehicle has arrived though, which is unusual.
Pilgrims stop here occasionally as they tour the ancient sites of Salo, so visitors aren’t unusual. After all, this is the busy summer season. But I’m far off the beaten path so most of them choose to bypass this stop. And I suspect my “monstrous” appearance and vow of silence aren’t helping matters.
Why has a military vehicle arrived?
I reach down and rub at my thigh, trying to loosen tight muscles. I’m a war veteran and lucky to have this organic prosthetic leg, but it’s never been as good as the real thing. Five years later it still troubles me. I stand and slowly make my way around the desk and frown at my bare ankles, which are always exposed when I walk. This clothing isn’t made for Hyrrokin, so it’s difficult to find robes that are long enough for my tall form. I had to specifically cut out a flap in the back to accommodate my barbed tail. My hood rarely stays in place due to the horns on my head.
“Stop it!”
“Grab her!”
“Hey, leave me alone!” a female voice shouts in reply.
My pulse quickens. What is going on out there? I immediately grab my staff and march downstairs.
A fist bangs on the first-floor entrance to the main sanctuary. Then the loud boom of the metal knocker joins the percussion. I clench my jaw. Who are these beings? This isn’t the behavior of humble pilgrims. The front door bursts open as I arrive. Three heavily armed Gravian guards rush inside, dragging a screaming nun in their wake.
I pause and stare at this atrocity, trying to understand how this is happening. A luscious feminine scent hits my lungs, and my body instantly reacts, causing my cock to thicken under my robe. A growl rumbles in my chest as I witness this female’s distress. My grip tightens on my staff.
She is dragged and dumped onto the stone steps of the main altar. A red suitcase is tossed down beside her. I have no idea what species she is, but I can smell her compatible mating pheromones. Possessive needs I’ve never known until this very moment whip through my body.
I glance back angrily at the dusty, sweaty guards. Fire ignites in my chest. I’ve kept it banked for four long years, but now it churns, ready to flash flame.
“This is the female nun we were ordered to bring,” an older-looking male huffs, wiping sweat off his brow, “the one you were expecting. She has proven difficult to transport.”
I have no idea what they are talking about. I wasn’t expecting a nun.
