The Wood's protest falls on deaf ears as Fran kisses Mjrn's. The younger Viera's face is nestled in Fran's neck, her lips nursing it, teeth leaving marks her sister will have to adjust her hair to cover. It is not so much their kinship that matters. After all, Viera are all beings of the Wood, but Fran...

Fran is a dissenter.

The Viera do not age, not as humes do, and yet Fran looks so much older. The desert has darkened her skin, tangled her hair, and the fur on her ears has grown rough and the tips stained brown, decayed in the absence of the Wood.

Fran's armor and Mjrn's silkier garments are slung over a branch, the two of them naked and pressed against a hulking green tree. Their time is captured, their lust contended to fleeting moments in the journey back to Eruyt Village.

The Viera appreciate all the wood has given them, especially their sex. A fondness for asses dictates a lack of panties, the more skin showing the better. Clothing in most of the Wood is optional, the heavier garb of the wood-warder and salve-makers seen mostly in the center of the village, happily discarded in favor of blissful nudity at the days end.

"I have missed you, sister," Mjrn says, kissing along Fran's jaw.

"We must be silent," Fran groans.

The Viera usually do it with their mouths, because their claws make the otherwise impractical, but tonight Mjrn is rubbing herself against Fran's thigh, and Fran against Mjrn's balled fist. Fran lets out a breathless grunt as the younger Viera sucks hard on a pulse point, and suddenly both start to shiver and buck.

To Humes, sex is a sin, but the Viera consider it a sort of celebration.

Fran brings their locked hands to her lips, licking off her own wetness, splendidly rewarded with Mjrn's trembling gasp.

The Wood knows when someone's just come, and Mjrn knows Jote will hear about this.

Jote the elder, Jote in the arms of Hala, Jote who stood by and left Fran to exile.

She wills the thoughts of her eldest sister away, content to nestle in the solitude of her sister's breast. "I do not want to leave this," she says.

Claws smooth Mjrn's disheveled locks.

"And yet, you must..."