Chapter 1

The dog's barks echoed around me and the confusion did not help me deal with it. I never did remember much before this.

There is a voice inside me that guides me to be calm in the face of fear. And it was fear I felt in this moment of the beginning. My eyes followed the dog's jagged course as it jutted in and out around me. My hands were up, pleading silently for this creature to leave me be.

But then the man was walking toward me and his hands were up like mine. He spoke low and soft. His voice reached through the confusion and my eyes pled with him to leave me be.

I did not know then this power that was my own voice. Not until the man held a hand out to me and bade me to come to him. "No," I heard my voice answer him and it seemed to me the grass between us hushed that word as it traveled.

He straightened and put his hands on his hips as he regarded me. I came to know this look. The way his head would tilt to the side and his jaw would drop a bit even as his eyes narrowed and he pulled in a deliberate breath before slowly blowing it out between barely-parted lips. I came to think of it as his cleansing look.

It was as if he was cleansing his body of annoyance and bringing in a peace he needed to exude in order to deal with wild creatures or unknown women he found wandering helpless and forlorn in his wilderness along that ridge of the high country where he grazed his cattle.

I was that unknown woman.

I was helpless.

I was forlorn.

It was his wilderness.

It was his kindness that finally won him my trust.

When I would not go to him as he bade me, he made his cleansing look at me then spoke to his dog. He looked directly at his small dark dog and the dog looked directly back at him as he spoke. What sort of man was this? Strong and rugged, a fierce look to the set of his jaw, a rigid hold of his body. Yet his dog regarded him with ease and confidence. There was rough affection and trust there between the man and the dog.

This affected how I viewed the man.

And when he strode away from me, the dog followed without hesitation, though it did glance back at me once or twice as if to say, 'come on now, woman, we will not hurt you and you may even have fun with us.'

It made me giggle.

The man had said to his dog: "She don't like us much. Let's let her be."

And the dog had looked at the man as if he understood.

Once I thought perhaps I knew, perhaps I caught a glimpse of my purpose for being here. But I felt the confusion grow as the man's form receded down the slope. I watched as he put a foot in the stirrup at the horse's side. He glanced up at me. The briefest look to see if I was real and still there. But once he pulled himself atop the horse and settled heavily into the saddle, he took a long look up at me. He beckoned me one last time.

He was unafraid.

This impressed me.

The horse carried him to the east and my eyes followed until I began to let my feet follow. There was no real decision on my part. I simply knew there was no other choice.

He knew I was following him. The horse knew also. The horse would not let him leave me behind. The dog came back to welcome me to this pack.

This was how I came to think of them. The man and his pack. The dog, two horses and the man.

I stopped at the edge of thin trees and regarded the wooden cabin before me as the horse carried the man there. The horse showed no concern to be enclosed in a pen and this also impressed me about the man. That his animals, his pack, trusted him in this way seemed oddly comforting to me even though I was a woman and not a horse.

The dog's breath came hot and ragged along my bare leg. I looked down at him and he looked up at me. I took a seat next to him in the grass and together we regarded the man's home while the man regarded us.

"Is he a good master to you then, dog?" I asked the dog.

The dog looked at the man and then back at me. I laughed to think this might have been my answer. Perhaps it was more of an answer that though I was stroking his fur and he was enjoying it, when the man whistled the dog took off to return to the man's side.

So I regarded the man while he and his dog regarded me. Then the grass ushered his voice to me as he called out: "Night's coming, love. You want food, come here. I won't be bringing it to you."

He disappeared around the corner of his raised cabin and still I sat.

For a time, I watched the cabin but eventually I grew distracted in the late day. I lay back and regarded the sky while I absent-mindedly chewed blades of the sweet, tender grass about me. All this while, I do not remember making a conscious choice of how I would face the dilemma I was in ... did I dare come closer to the man? Did I dare leave whatever protection he might offer me? Did I have a choice in this matter? In time, the matter was decided not by me but by the situation.

I was unprepared for the cold that descended with the night. I am unsure what I expected but it was not this. It was the cold more than this gut-deep hunger that drove me to approach the cabin with its orange-yellow glow of light within. As I edged my way around the front of the cabin, I saw the high porch and the solid wooden stairs leading up to it. And the man was crouched in the open doorway as if he knew I was coming. He tossed me a blanket that felt rough against my skin but which brought me instant protection from the cold that was making my teeth chatter.

"Got a good fire going inside," he told me softly. "I won't hurt you. Come in and get warmed."

Inside his cabin, the dog sat waiting for me. He was as patient as the man. There was unimpeded access to the hearth and there I huddled before the fire and held my hands to its welcome heat. Soon enough, the blanket ceased to be necessary and I let it slip from my shoulders.

"Would you like some clothes?" The man said these words softly and I looked over my shoulder to see him holding out jeans and a sweater to me. I followed his example and put this fabric on my body. My skin felt different but it was not unenjoyable. Just different.

There were other questions the man asked me that night as he fed me and sheltered me. I could not tell him my name, I could not tell him where I belonged, I could not tell him how I came to be wandering in his wilderness wearing only a loose linen shirt. These were as mysterious circumstances to me as they were to him.

But the man took me in anyway that night and never seemed overly annoyed that I could not answer his questions. I noted the ease with which he provided shelter, food and water to both me and the dog. Perhaps we were two of a kind to the man ... both weaker creatures in need of his care and companionship.

That first night, there were almost too many new things for me to notice. This simple, neat shelter seemed hardly big enough to contain the man's spirit. And yet, inside there, he made room for me and the dog. He served me food with little fanfare, as if the effort was minor to him. He sat across from me at the wooden table while I ate and every so often, he would ask me one of his questions. I enjoyed the stew he gave me but most of all, I relished the taste of the honey he poured over a hard-crusted roll for me. The water he served me in a tin cup was sweet and clean. It was the basic needs of any creature ... a place to sleep protected from the elements, food to nourish, water to sustain.

In the morning, he asked me more questions as he fed me again. I tried hard to think of answers but found myself unable to delve into whatever part of my brain might have known where I lived or how to reach my family or if I'd been in an accident. But then he asked, "What's the last think you remember before I found you?"

"I remember knowing you would come there."

His eyes showed surprise. "You've been watching me?"

I considered this. "I don't think so. But I don't really remember anything before you. Maybe ..."

We were seated across the table from each other again. It's rough wooden surface seemed in contrast to the softness of the skin on the back of his hand as I touched him there.

"Maybe what?" he asked me but he didn't shy from my touch.

"Your skin is soft," I remarked. "I like the way it feels."

I saw him swallow and he pulled his hand away from mine.

"You have a nice voice. I like it very much," I told him. "The dog likes it as well."

To this, he chuckled softly and smiled at me. "You think? I think he just likes the fact I feed him."

I looked at the dog. He looked at me. "Is that why you like him?" I asked the dog.

To this, the man laughed out loud. He picked up our dishes and rinsed them in a bucket. And then he asked me if I wished to bathe.

"Should I?" I asked him, taking comfort from the dog's ease with those words.

The man smiled again and I liked his smile. "You should, love. Here, bit of soap, towel, comb for that hair ... bob's your uncle."

He was beginning to know that he shouldn't assume that, without his guidance, I would be any more aware of what I needed to do than the rest of his pack. So he led me down a path between high grass until we came to a rocky stream that ran cool and clear through the field. At first, we sat side by side and I imitated him as he lathered the cloth and washed his face. But then he told me to stay there and he would go elsewhere to finish. When I asked why, he seemed shy but brusque, telling me to take my clothes off, wash everywhere including my hair and to scrub my shirt out.

I did as he ordered and was stretched out in the sun to dry when he returned. He turned his back and explained about the need for clothing to shelter me from his gaze.

These were things I was to come to learn were accepted knowledge that might have escaped me the same time my memories did. But in this moment, there was a lightness to the new clean way I felt and smelled. Perhaps it's why I was so accepting of the way things were to be between us.

When I was dressed, the man looked at me with a curious manner. He had me sit before him under a tree and taught me about combing my hair. As he worked the teeth of the broad comb through my damp curls, I asked him if all men were such as him. He spent long moments tugging out snarls and tangles, never rushing to complete a task that was more about caring for me than about what would help himself.

"How am I then?" his soft voice asked me. I came to know this tone of voice. I thought of it as his raw voice. Within it, I felt I saw a part of him that knew his own view of the world and was unashamed of his place within it. His raw voice became a way of seeing when he was unimpeded in his need to hear good truths from me.

"You are kind when kindness is a choice," I told him. "But you have a strength within your hands that could be cruel if need be. It's why I remark on the kindness."

"Don't think anyone's said such to me before," he replied and I felt him lean away from me. "C'mon then. Let's get back. Chores need doing."

But I was not done with my remarks on the kind of man he was. I trailed along behind his form and told him how much I liked the way he looked. He glanced at me over his shoulder and looked as though my words were not welcome. Welcome they may not be, but true they were. I did like the way he looked. He walked with grace and purpose. His hips swung effortlessly and his sturdy thighs propelled a body that was intriguing to me. The set to his shoulders seemed easy with confidence.

At the cabin, I helped him saddle his horse and then he told me to stay near this place and await his return. Many hours later, I was dozing on the porch, lazy in the sun's lilting rays, tired after exploring and roaming within easy reach of the cabin while he was gone.

I woke to the feel of his dog's sniffing nose along my leg. When my eyes opened, I smiled to find the man leaning there against the porch and regarding me. I swung my legs over the porch's edge and greeted him with a hug of welcome. I don't know why; it came unbidden to my body to want to touch him this way. He stiffened and gently pulled my hands from around his shoulders.

This confused me. The dog liked my touch. But the man did not. The dog sat with me and let me stroke his fur and together we watched as the man cared for his horse. I thought about this even as we sat inside his cabin and he prepared another meal for us.

"You didn't like it when I touched you, did you? Must I never do this to you?" I asked him.

He looked back at me over his shoulder as he sat before the pot hanging over the fire in the hearth. His eyes roamed over my body and he gave me his cleansing look. "Tomorrow, we'll talk about what we're gonna do with you. Hadn't planned to go into town for a few more days but maybe we should go sooner. Someone's bound to be looking for you. Need to give you a name so I can call you something until then."

"What do I call you?"

He cleared his throat and leaned back in his seat. "Egan."

"I like that name. Egan." I tested it on my tongue. "Egan. It suits you."

The smile he gave me in response pleased me. "What suits you, y'reckon?"

I looked at the dog and he looked at me. I thought on this and I believe the dog thought on it as well. Even Egan seemed to think on it. "Perhaps Sarah suits me."

Egan looked at me and I looked at him. There was an odd light in his eyes that seemed to probe into my spirit. As if he was truly deciding on this name's suitability. "Sarah. That's what we'll call you then."

This is then how I became known as Sarah to Egan.

"Do you like that name?" I asked him later as he dished up a plate of food. He set it in front of me and I saw his eyes dart to the small cup before me that held yellow and violet wildflowers I had collected that day. He smiled at me and nodded. I grinned back at him and felt at ease. "Good. I'm glad. Do you know what I saw today?"

He took his seat across from me after giving the dog a plate that the dog proceeded to devour in nothing flat. My attention was diverted to the dog; this habit of his to eat so quickly still surprised me even though I'd already witnessed it several times.

Egan said, "What did you see today?"

"I saw another horse."

His head came up. "Lots of brumbies about, love. What'd it look like then?"

So we talked on the horse and he told me of other horses he'd seen. Wild horses. Not like Egan's horses, which he explained to me were there to work with him. These were horses that ran free but also had no man to care for them.

In a few days, he told me, he would lead other men to round up some of the most promising brumbies. They would take these brumbies with them and sell them to other men.

He promised to take me to see this gathering of wild horses, of the brumbies, and to show me the one he had a particular desire to capture: the stallion that had come to take the place of a legend that Egan had once known among these creatures. This was the first time I heard with these ears the name Thowra, the king of the brumbies who had dashed into legend already even though his death had only come the season before. Thowra. It was a name that stirred something inside me and when I told Egan this, he said perhaps I'd heard him calling me in the night when I was lost.

Chapter 2

Perhaps it was hearing the name. Thowra. Perhaps it was Egan's teasing remark that I had heard Thowra calling me in the night. But whatever it was, I lay awake and wakeful of all noises in that second night in which I was in the care of Egan.

I tried to get the dog to come lie with me in the cot that Egan insisted I sleep in. But the dog preferred sleeping next to his master, who was resting upon blankets tossed before the banked hearth.

Outside, the wind whipped and whirled while unknown threats and calls sounded. Inside, the dog and I looked at each other. Egan slept on, oblivious to my growing fears and need for comfort. He looked at peace, a blanket covering him near to his neck and his arms pillowing his head. I knew he wore his shirt but nothing else under the blanket for I had watched him as he undressed even though he thought I had been asleep already. I wondered if his other skin was as soft and warm as the back of his hand.

He barely stirred when I slipped under the blanket and in beside him upon his resting place by the hearth. When I slid my arm around his waist and came slowly closer to his form, finding a resting spot beneath the hollow of his arm, I took my first easy breath in the dark of that night.

Warm. He was so warm. A heat that seemed to cascade off him and infuse me with my own heat. I sniffed him and took in lungfuls of his scent as if I was drinking down a bracing elixir.

He stirred next to me and one arm came down to rest along my back as I lay on my side next to him. I smiled in the night as his body adjusted to mine and seemed to invite me in closer. My hand slid a bit further down until I could find the bare skin that I knew was there.

His stomach had light downs of furry hair upon it and I traced his bellybutton and wondered if I'd ever before done such a thing. It was only in this time that I came to wonder about whatever memories had escaped me. There was simply something about the feel of this man next to me that made me wonder if I'd ever known a man before in the sense of understanding his body.

I explored further, reaching up under his shirt and feeling his ribs move under his skin as he sighed. His nipples peaked at my searching touch. And then I felt his other hand sweep down across his chest until it reached for my knee and pulled it across his groin. His big hand rested upon my thigh, holding it in place there where he wanted it to be.

My eyes turned up to look at his face but all I could see was his light beard and chin, one ear, his hair ... he was turned from me, facing into the embers. His fingers along my back flexed and gathered me closer. His arms both jumped and twitched as I heard a soft murmur of words I didn't catch.

Fascinating.

What a fascinating creature was this man. He was so strong. With his arms around me, I felt some measure of his strength and knew that I would not escape his hold unless he released me. But I didn't want away from where I was. I liked it there. It was safe and warm and comforting there with him.

My hand continued to travel up his skin and I saw my fingers peek out from the top of the shirt as I stroked along his chest and up to his neck. He seemed to respond to my touch by pressing my thigh in against his groin. I felt a hardness there that began to grow and its heat seemed to set a corresponding fire in my own groin.

Somewhere inside me, I had an instinctive knowledge of what was happening. He was growing hard; I was growing soft.

A little moan escaped my lips as I felt his hardness expand and as I felt my softness weep for him. I looked down across the body I could not see but could feel as it seemed to respond to mine.

My fingers on his neck felt him move and when I looked up, his eyes were open and they were gazing at me.

"You shouldn't be here, Sarah," he said softly.

"But this is where I want to be, Egan," I replied in a hush.

"If you stay ..."

"Let me stay."

His hand along my back imprinted warm circles on my skin and I asked him to kiss me. Just like that. Plainly spoken. Under my fingers, his neck convulsed as he swallowed deeply.

"You are so beautiful to me, Egan."

"Sarah ... do you know if you've ever ... have you any idea what you're asking of me, love?" Saying these words to me in his raw voice.

"I know only this. I have desire for you."

He let out this long breath and then he pulled it in sharply when my hand nudged beneath my thigh and began caressing his length. Our eyes were locked as we regarded the other. Something about the feel of his cock in my hand made me suddenly feel lightheaded with possibilities. All I really knew was the need to feel him gaining entrance to me.

In response, I felt the unbidden urge to turn from him so he could mount me ... I knew not where this originated but his hand on my thigh tightened and he held me in place there facing him. But I was never concerned with the unfamiliarity of his touch because by then what I wanted became what I trusted in him to provide for me.

I felt his body shift and watched as if from outside myself as he turned toward me and then rose up on an elbow, looming over me ... his hand left my thigh to hold my chin steady while his mouth glanced over mine. He watched my reaction and I watched his. He watched until he let his lips really take control of mine; I watched until I felt his tongue slide inside. We moaned into each other as I squeezed and pumped his hardness in reaction to what he made me feel with that kiss.

And then he was touching me. There. I opened my legs and simply absorbed the exquisite feel of his fingers there. In my wetness. My folds feeling as though they had just discovered their hidden meaning.

He had moved his body so that his mouth could lick and suck along my breasts. And it seemed no time at all before both his hands were pulling me up to sit facing him so he could caress both breasts while his mouth alternated between them. I arched into the tactile pleasure and closed my eyes just to have this sweet touch.

I made no requests of him. He made none of me. Somehow, we seemed to know where to touch, how to accept the feeling of the other. My hands stroked in his hair as his mouth sucked so hard at my nipples that I groaned. He leaned back on his arms and let me explore his body, from his neck to his groin, as I unbuttoned his shirt and opened it to reveal his skin to my view and my touch. The taste of his shaft made me pause to catch my breath. The sight of this made him kiss me with true abandon.

He laid me upon the blanket, his eyes regarding me as mine regarded him. I looked upon his body as he removed his shirt and I saw him as he was meant to be seen. I sighed and reached a hand out, beckoning him to me. He came to me, kneeling between my thighs, which widened to accommodate him. Together, we stroked him and then I felt him guide the tip of his cock across my wetness, coating its head and sending shockwaves of anticipation charging through me. I had not expected to be approached in this manner.

"I'll be gentle," he promised me.

"I know," I promised him.

As he came into me, we both trembled. We traded smiles that turned from nervous to greedy hunger by the time he nudged in a few more inches. When he met some resistance, I whispered encouragement. His big hands gripped at my hips and he steadied himself for the final thrust to seat himself more fully inside me.

I was wordless at the feeling. Sublime. Like nothing before.

He began moving inside me, watching me steadily as he pumped in and out. I knew he was making note of the flush of my skin, the rising pants of my breathing, the way I was biting back on heavy groans. I felt frantic with this unnamed need until he showed me the way.

"Let go, Sarah. Let it feel good. That's right. That's it. Feel it. Feel it all."

"I feel it. I feel you." Closing my eyes and arching my neck as I felt this growing need to let the explosion inside erupt. "Egan!"

His mouth next to my ear and soothing sounds from him even as he pumped harder, faster inside me ... even as he called up from within me more frantic cries and gave me a coming that made me wish to scream in joy. He kissed me hard and deep as he felt me convulse in waves of released passion. He sucked in along my neck and shoulder as he pumped ... hard ... determined ... finally crying out and shuddering even as I held tight around his body to comfort him as he found his own release.

We panted out our jubilation at what we'd found in this night ... a release that made us cling together for solace. The remainder of the night, we rested within the other's arms and woke several times to explore this physical sharing of our bodies' surfeit.

The next day, he chose not to leave the cabin except to take me to the stream where we washed each other and then made languid love upon the bank in the sun.

Days slipped by and he forgot the day upon which he had said he would take me into town so that he may turn me over to authorities that he knew would help me find my family if not my memories. We had no need for anything but the other. I did not wish to leave him; he did not wish to have me go.

If I had a memory as good as this time with Egan, perhaps then I would have wished to return to it. But I could not believe I had ever known such feelings as what this man gave me. If I had, would they have not been so powerful that I would never have misplaced them?

By mutual understanding, if not verbal planning, we stayed alone up in that high country haven long after prudence would have bade him to turn me over to other people to see to my future and my past. We left the cabin area only to tend to absolute necessities ... he had to check on his cattle perhaps every other day ... I helped him care for his horses and the dog.

We talked of his life. We talked of the mountains. We talked of his past. We talked of his dreams. We talked of many things. But we never talked of me because what was there to talk of? All I knew of me was what he knew and that I'd always shared with him.

Days were spent trying to find excuses not to touch but all it took was one glance from him and I was touching him. We made love to each other and thought to never stop. It was the real reason the days ran by like the stream's relentless ramble across the stones.

But a change was coming in the season and he felt it shifting in the wind. One night in his cot, he told me the day was coming when he would need to leave this haven and return to his ranch for the winter.

"What will become of me?" I asked him.

"You will come with me."

But somewhere inside me, I knew this would not be his decision to make. Somehow I knew another fate awaited me.

Chapter 3

From where I stood, I could see far down the hills along the Cascades. I could see the man's cabin and I could see the path across the ridge that led him inexorably home. For two days, I paced in this spot and waited.

On the third day, I saw him. Egan. Riding atop one horse, leading the other. The dog scampered about, sometimes leading the way on the path between the grasses and sometimes trailing behind as if looking for something he'd lost.

Perhaps the dog looked for me.

I know Egan did.

It was a knowledge I kept within me and sheltered within my heart. This was also where I sheltered an abiding love for this man who'd taken me in and protected me in a time when my memories were not present.

He was not as I would have expected if I could have ever had those memories inside me and available during that time I was with him. He was not what I had been told to expect when I'd been sent by Thowra to distract the man during the danger time.

This I told to Thowra. That what he had done to the man had been unworthy. That robbing me of my memories during that time with Egan had been unjust to me.

If I had had my memories, I would have known that my spirit king had sent me in the form he did to entice the man as only a woman can. I remembered what the man had told me of using a female horse to entice Thowra in the hopes of trapping the great stallion, king of the brumbies. But Egan readily acknowledged that the use of a female's lure had not worked as expected when the mare fell in physical love with the stallion only to leave the man's protection.

But my rebukes were unwelcome words to one such as Thowra, my spirit king. For to him, there was nobility in the success of sending me to the man. For to Thowra, my ability to captivate the man through his passion for me when I was in the woman's form had allowed the brumbie herd in the Cascades to escape the man's ability to take the lead stallion from freedom to a life of man's captivity.

I had left Egan a week earlier. It had broken my heart but I heard the call of memories and followed them back to my spirit king. From another form, a mare's form, I observed as Egan searched for the woman Sarah.

It was hopeless for him. It was hopeless for me. I spent those days knowing the desolation of having found a mate only to now have the emptiness of understanding I would never again feel his body moving in mine.

So from this spot, I watched as Egan packed and left the high country for the winter. As he disappeared from sight, I descended and followed the trail he'd taken. I left behind Thowra and I left behind the promises I'd made once to help stop the capture of horses my spirit king had pledged to protect.

I cared not for wrong or right in this battle between these males. I cared only for the loss of Egan.

Over the nights that followed, I haunted the land around Egan's hillside ranch. I knew not what to do. Winter would soon set in and I had lost the will to join the others with whom I should have sought companionship. I felt myself grow weak as I lost the will to continue in this form that I had promised to inhabit.

And I grew less afraid to come near Egan's world. But days grew to weeks and still I had no will to do anything but mourn.

Until the night when a storm came lashing from the west and I had no escape from its fury. The trees offered me no protection as water flowed and flooding chased me from where I had thought I would find safety. In my desperation, I sought again the shelter of the only creature who'd ever given it to me unselfishly.

Inside the cleared area of his ranch, I forced the door of the barn open and rushed into the embrace of its protection. His two horses were inside and when I entered with the flash of merciless wind and rain, they grew fearful and temperamental at my intrusion. Under the onslaught of the wind, I could not close the door and even as I tried, I saw a bobbing lantern light weaving toward the barn from the farmhouse.

Egan!

I knew he was coming. He must have sensed something and looked out to find the yawning door of the barn. I felt wild with fright!  I could not face him in this form. Not like this ... not as a traitor he would not recognize as such. I tried to hide, rushing into a stall and trying to be still.

I heard his deep voice, calling above the wind to calm his horses. I peeked over the stall I was hiding within to see him wrestle the door shut. It took all his strength.

And then he stood there, the lantern held high as he lit other lanterns hanging along the interior until there was light enough for him to check his horses.

I did not notice the dog until he entered my stall.

The dog looked at me and I looked at the dog. There was recognition in his eyes and I wished I knew how to communicate with him so that he would not bark out ... but bark out he did.

I backed into the far corner, knowing I could not hide now, hoping Egan would be kind when he found this new creature there in his barn.

The dog stilled and looked back toward the entry to the stall. My eyes swept up and there he was.

Egan.

Stopped dead in his tracks and his clothes hung wet about him, water dripping in soft plops upon the straw. He put his hands up to calm me when he must have seen the fear raging wild in my eyes as he advanced on me. Moving slowly, knowing to move this way to keep this wild creature calm.

"Sarah?" His voice hushed across the straw to me. "Sarah, is it you?"

If I could have cried, I would have. How could he know this was me?

He came closer and he was so close he could reach out to touch me.

"I looked everywhere for you, Sarah. I would never have abandoned you. I couldn't find your tracks and ... Oh, God. Sarah. I had begun to think you were my imagination. No one else had seen you. No one has reported a woman missing. There was no record of anyone like you ... it was like you never existed and ..."

And then his hands touched my skin and ...

"Egan." In a whisper. I heard my voice and thought it was in my head. But I looked at where his warm hands were touching my cold skin and realized ... I was a woman again.

We fell to our knees and clutched the other in welcome confusion. Our reunion overwhelmed whatever reserve he might have had. I would never have any with him.

We made love right there. As if a moment to pass would be a lifetime. I stripped him and he backed up to sit atop a hay bale and we seemed unable to stop ourselves. He pulled me over him and I was reaching down to put him into me even as he was trying to devour my breasts ... but then the joining overtook us and we simply rutted into the other until we could come hard enough to regain our senses in the fatigue that followed.

I never remembered much before Egan. I know not how I came to be with the spirit king. I only know that at some time, I was sent to be a means of defeating the man Egan. But even the spirit king knows that a female's heart will not be bound by the edicts of the male. What I do remember of my reason for being made woman by the spirit king Thowra, I have not shared with Egan for he is not a creature who has the wish to share in such a spiritual belief.

In the end, not remembering whatever former life I led was a final gift my spirit king gave me when he released me to return to a woman's form during the storm. Perhaps he knew that it was either release me or lose my spirit to a wasteful death brought on by my inability to leave behind the male I loved. Perhaps Thowra felt his own sacrifice was enough death to give to the contest between him and Egan.