Tyler rubbed his temples, exhaling heavily. "Look, because you all thought I was some kind of Druid, the village sent you here to 'serve' me? And since Druids are supposedly all about being one with nature, you figured stripping down to a couple of leaves was the appropriate uniform?" He gestured at his own fully clothed body— sturdy boots, pants, tunic, the works. "Didn't it occur to anyone that I'm wearing actual clothes? Normal, appropriate clothes?"
The women didn't answer right away. Instead, the village chief's wife— a statuesque, middle-aged deer-kin woman with elegant antler nubs and soft tawny fur along her arms and thighs— stepped forward. Her heavy breasts swayed with the motion, full and pendulous, the tiny leaves doing absolutely nothing to contain them. The green scraps had ridden up completely; her dark, erect nipples jutted proudly above the edges like they were posing for inspection. The string dug into the undersides, lifting and accentuating every generous curve.
