a fortnight later he again changed into the guise of a mountain wolf and made his way down the mountainside to the village.
He knew which house was hers, knew in what room she slept. But even had he not known, her warm, familiar scent would have beckoned him as surely as candlelight drew the tiny white moths.
He hesitated a moment, weighing the risk of being discovered against the prize, and then dismissed the danger. He was Darkfest, more than a match for a few lowly peasants.
Her window was open and he leaped effortlessly over the low sill, then padded soundlessly toward her narrow bed. She slept on her side, facing the window, one hand tucked, childlike, beneath her cheek. Her eyes were closed, but he knew them well, wide and innocent beneath delicately shaped brows, as green as the leaves of the pine trees that grew close together along the river. Her rich golden hair fell in a long braid over her shoulder. He lifted the heavy braid with his paw, closed his eyes, and breathed deeply. Her scent filled his nostrils, warmed every nerve.
Would she wake if he dared to lie beside her? It was a temptation he could not resist. Lightly he jumped onto her bed and stretched out beside her, his back to her front. A low growl of satisfaction rambled in his throat as she snuggled against him.
A sigh, soft as a summer breeze, whispered past her lips, ruffling his fur.
Of what do ye dream, my Channa Leigh? he wondered, and closing his eyes, he covered her hand with his paw and let his mind meld with hers...
At first there was only darkness, and then, gradually, the world brightened and he saw her walking along the river-bank, one hand resting on the head of a huge wolf. And she saw the world through his eyes. He experienced her wonder as she watched a gray squirrel run up a tree. She stopped to touch the soft pink petals of a brier rose, stooped to run her hands over the green velvet grass. Now and then she paused and gazed up at the sky, and then she moved on, her head turning slowly from side to side, examining everything she passed - flowers, leaves, rocks, a fat brown caterpillar.
He felt her fingers in his hair as her hand stroked the dream wolf's head. He had thought to change into his true form but decided against it now, afraid she might sense the change and awaken.
In her dream, she sat down in the shade of a flowering oak, and the big wolf stretched out beside her, his head in her lap.
As she stroked the dream wolf, he felt his own body tingle, his skin ripple with pleasure, as though she were caressing him and not the wolf in her dream.
"Isn't the world a wondrous place, my dark one?" she said. "I had forgotten how beautiful it all was." She ran one hand over the grass. "This is green. 'Tis a glorious color.
And the earth. 'Tis brown, like Papa's cow. Oh, and look at the sky. "Its a wondrous shade of blue. As blue as your eyes."
Time passed. An hour, a day... in a dream, time had no meaning, not that it mattered. He had all the time in the world. Man or beast, in this world or in the world of Channa Leigh's dreams, he was content to rest there, by her side, to feel her fingers stroke his fur, to breathe in her scent, to imagine himself as a man at her side, his head cradled in her lap, his lips tasting hers...
As if she knew his thoughts, the dreaming Channa Leigh pressed her fingertips to her lips. "Tell me, dark one, do you think I shall ever find a man to love?" She laughed softly, sadly. "I think Ronin has feelings for me, though he has never spoken them aloud." She breathed a heavy sigh. "But even should he care, what man would want one such as I? "
What man, indeed, he mused. Just lying beside her, watching her sleep, made him ache with a need he had never indulged.
In her dream, the big wolf rolled onto his back.
He sucked in a deep breath, felt his desire stir to vigorous life, as she began to scratch the dream wolf's stomach. In three hundred years, he had never known a woman, never felt such a sharp stab of desire...