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But that possibility was looking slimmer and slimmer by the minute. The dying teen’s wound was generally representative of the severity of the injuries that I saw amongst the future thrallsvar and villein. These warriors had fought better, harder, and longer than any of their comrades. An encounter with any of them was guaranteed to end in bloodshed—their enemy’s or their own. Of course, the downside of that was that relatively few such warriors survived to be named. But the ones that were too tough to let little things like potentially-mortal injuries get in their way would certainly be deserving of their new titles. Such grievous injuries also meant that bodily fluids from bleeding bodies and voided bowels proliferated alongside the growing number of corpses. The straw on the floor was filthy; covered in jizz shit, barf, bits of flesh, and every other bodily fluid Big Tits known to man. The dirt underneath had grown muddy with the piss and blood of a dozen victims. Dead bodies were left amongst the wounded. The last straw was the warm sausage of shit that squelched beneath my boot as I tried to navigate around one of the healers. “Get some of the slaves to clean this place up,” I shouted at a young Clan warrior. He saluted and hurried to fetch a work party. A half-dozen captive Arkadian warriors shuffled in a few minutes later as I departed. I took a break, such as it was, by checking in on the houses that held the injured Zavalan villagers captured what seemed like an eternity ago. Most of them were resting fitfully. After two weeks, few of their lives were in doubt; the ones that would die off had already passed, while the survivors were already over the hill on the path to recovery. A few looked up as I entered but quickly averted their eyes when they recognized me. After that, it was back into the fire. Thirty buildings were filled with Arkadian wounded and that number was growing busty by the minute. The evening passed by in a haze of blood and shattered bodies. Here, a sniveling Wildcat tried feebly to plug the stab wound in the right side of her belly. There, a handjob striking Blade tugged weakly at the arrow in her shapely bosom. In one building, an uninjured Arkadian teenager cradled her dying younger sister in her arms. Blood seeped from the young girl’s mouth to stain her chin, her neck, and her small, high breasts. Lots more should have flowed from the horrible entrance wound low in her belly and the splayed flesh of an exit wound in the small of her back, but the girl’s lifeblood was about to run dry. In another building, a blossoming woman pawed desperately at the broken shaft of a spear below her ribs as her struggles reached a grisly climax. Her arms cumshot fell limply to the ground as her soul finally fled. Few of the Arkadian warriors knew anything at all about healing beyond how to bandage a wound, making them essentially bystanders as their brothers- and sisters-in-arms bled into the dirt. The few Clan healers I had were overwhelmed by the sheer volume of patients. Bandages were in desperately short supply. Arkadians ran around, digging through houses to find anything made of cloth. Many removed their own clothing; shirts and skirts were torn into bandages while bras and even panties were used to stuff wounds. Others removed clothing and bandages from the dead to be cleaned and re-used on the living. Emmy was in one of the buildings. She looked just like any of the dozens of other Arkadian trainees around the town and I almost didn’t notice her. She was busy stitching up a pretty Arkadian who looked to be in her late teens. The point of a sword or an axe, I couldn’t tell which, had swiped the girl across the belly, slicing through skin and flesh, but not cutting deeply enough to reach her organs. Semi-conscious, she moaned as Emmy worked a small bone needle in and around the sliced flesh. Oh yes! Her arms still holding onto me for dear life. This girl busty has style, I realized. “It’s totally fine.” She said, her voice returning to normal. "Honey," She whines, pushing my head back making the pain that handjob I felt at the sink well up within my chest and spread into my limbs. She arched her back, locked her legs around me then damn near crippled me by squeezing my waist as she shook jizz and groaned into the pillow. I quickly wipe myself down and grab the dressing gown to head outside. Each girl had a slightly different taste, but they were all delicious, and their moans were music to my ears. 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