A soft breeze rustled the russet-colored leaves around him. His ear twitched as forest green eyes scanned the surrounding woods. His name was Zane Oakleaf. He was a hunter of the Crimson woods clan. He didn't just pursue and snare game. As a hunter, he patrolled and policed the woods that were his home.
His father had been a hunter. He was a third-generation hunter and the current pride of his family. Or he hoped he still was. There was one unique thing about Zane Oakleaf. He looked down at the large pair of breasts he kept bound under his hunters jerkin.
He hadn't been born this way. Two years ago, he had been in a relationship with a traveling witch. He thought it was love at first sight. She entranced him. They shared interest and her beauty was unrivaled. She was modest, but in private she had a playful side that had exhilarated him.
She was almost too good to be true. But she had a flaw. She was a very jealous woman. If any woman so much as talked to him, she would accuse him of flirting. Zane had taken it in stride. It had been a relief to know a woman as radiant as she had a bad side. To him, it was proof that she was genuine.
Then one day, his cousin from the crystal mountain came to visit his family. She was a young mother, but she was very fair. Esmerelda, his lover, had been away at the time and had arrived in time to see him embrace his cousin and receive a farewell peck on the cheek before she returned to her home, her loving husband, and two children.
She had accused him of infidelity, and then she cursed him.
"Since you like women so much, you can be one!" She had shouted. She had chanted several words in the language of the ancients and then struck him with an orb of violet energy. His hair had grown longer, and the color had turned from its deep earth brown to light chestnut. It was almost ginger. A pair of large breasts had filled out his tunic and his voice had changed, too. It had become more sultry and harmonious. So much so the elder of the clan had all but demanded he sing for them during the seasonal festivals.
The only thing that hadn't changed was his cock. He had felt so relieved that he still had one. Esmerelda might have been a witch, but she did often overestimate her ability. It was another flaw that had endeared her to him. Unknowingly, she cursed him to a far worse fate than she intended. He was now neither fully male nor female. He was biologically, emotionally, and psychologically trapped between the two states of being.
But Zane was an Oakleaf. He squared his shoulders and made the best of it. Surprisingly enough, there had been several women who had found the transformation very appealing. There were some silver linings.
The snap of a twig and the sound of trees trusting brought him back to the present. He didn't have time to be daydreaming about the past. He was on patrol, and he needed to focus. His keen eyes scanned the woods. Then he saw them, two trolls lumbering through the foliage.
I followed them as they stomped along, hauling their kill behind them. Trolls were the most common pest they had to deal with in the Crimson woods. They were eight feet tall, with gray bodies and long greasy black hair. Trolls were big, dumb, and gluttonous. They were hunted down wherever they were found. Zane felt bad about that, but it couldn't be helped. Trolls just ate and ate. If left to their own devices, they'd destroy entire ecosystems. It almost happened once.
When they entered their cave to consume their meal. Zane set his traps and climbed into a tree bow at the ready. The trolls would come out again when they had finished their food. Trolls never consumed their food where they killed it. They were paranoid that way. They feared someone taking their food, so they ate in their lairs.
The pair of elks they had been eating wouldn't last them long. When the trolls eventually finished their meal, they would go back out to hunt again. They'd keep up this pattern till night fell and they went to sleep.
Not ten minutes later, the pair of trolls exited their lair and immediately scented me. I saw their enormous noses lift into the air and breath in. Trolls had an incredible sense of smell. They turned my way, and both raised large stone axes. They both stalked toward my position, and that's when the first of them stepped into one of my traps.
It roared and struggled, but the foot was caught. Smirking, Zane drew back on his bow and shot an arrow right between the troll's eyes. It ceased its struggling and roaring, collapsing onto the ground with a loud thud. Enraged, the second troll charged forward, only to trip over my second trap and landing on the third. His ugly head hit the pressure plate, causing the steel jaws to close around his head.
With the troll's dead, he wrapped a rag around my mouth and nose before taking his small lantern and entering the troll's lair. The stench was almost overpowering as Zane went deeper and turned another corner. The cave opened out into an enormous cavern with piles of bones everywhere. Across the huge cavern was a doorway filled with remains and to one side was an old chest and split open bags of gold coins.
The one thing you could count on finding in a troll's lair was a treasure. They were notorious hoarders. Young trolls wandered looting and pillaging before they established a lair and continued to stockpile their booty. They were like dragons. Only dragons didn't steal the items from their hordes. They collected them from honorable battles or in exchange for services.
Zane began looking at the treasure. He found elven bones still in star silver chain or scale armor and many old enchanted swords. One sword was half-buried under a pile of bones and when he pulled it out of the sheath, he knew it was meant for him. The hilt was made of a blue stone with a silver pommel. The crossguard was in the shape of a dragon roaring.
The maker's mark told him it was from the days of the Dragon wars. Over two thousand years ago. It was a relic, which meant it was powerful. The blade was curved with runes engraved along the length. The hilt was studded with dark blue sapphires and wrapped in a thin star silver chain. It almost had no weight in my hand, and I spun it around my hand before sheathing it in its wooden sheath.
Zane made a quick run home and collected a couple of pack horses before returning to the troll's lair. He then dragged the chest out of the cavern and secured it to one of the packhorses. After the chest, he started on the gold, then the weapons and armor. He returned to the cavern and found a pair of twin short swords against the wall at the back of the cavern. Like his new sword, the blades were curved but with a double-edged point of star silver. Zane first thought the hilts were ivory but on closer inspection, they were made of dragon fangs.
After dropping the treasure off at the Elder's home, Zane had to go back out. The Elder told him a trio of strangers had been spotted in the north. Armed with my new weapons, he rode to the northern woods.
Zane found the strangers. Three elves in leather armor. The skull insignia on their armor marked them as raiders. I sighed and stepped out into the middle of the path, blocking the way.
"Turn around boys," Zane commanded.
They stopped and leered at him. "Hey sweat heart. Looking for some company?"
Zane rolled his eyes. "I'm a man."
They snorted and laughed. "Oh please, we're not stupid. There's no way you're a man."
Zane sighed and drew his new sword. "Last chance, fellas, turn around and go back from where you came. Raiders aren't welcome in the Crimson woods."
One raider pointed and hissed, "That's Wvermbane!"
He looked at the sword in his hand and sure enough, written in runes on the blade was its name. Wvermbane was a mythical sword that had been lost to the ages. And he had just claimed it as his own. Today was his lucky day. "If you recognize my sword, then you should have enough sense to turn about and leave."
Another raider sneered, "Impossible. It must be an imitation."
Zane caressed the silver-blue blade. "Care to find out?"
Two of the raiders shook their head and turned around. They walked back the way they had come. The third and stupidest one drew his own sword and attacked. I parried his blow. He swung again, and I deflected the attack. He lunged for Zane. Zane parried the blade aside and quick as lightning switched directions bring his sword around, lopping off the fool's head.
He wiped his blade off on the dead raider's jerkin before sheathing it. These were his woods and he wouldn't tolerate malcontents causing trouble. He watched the other two till he lost sight of them before he return to the village. He was looking forward to a wonderful stew and a warm bed after today. With any luck, the next day would be just as eventful and lucrative.