quickly like a startled doe and her large, sparkling eyes would grow wide and surprised—
For a moment she was there before him, just as he’d pictured her, and some communication passed between them, a flash of understanding as fleeting as a finger of lightning reaching for the earth. He could almost touch her, almost clasp her tiny fingers, and he reached desperately for her, but already she was fading, drawing away as so many others had drawn away from him. Her image dwindled and was gone, and he was alone again in the darkness as he sank deeper into confusion. There was so much life boiling and seething around him that somehow it made him seem infinitely small and insignificant, unworthy, less than nothing. Oh, he could drown in this no less than in a spring-flooded stream, roaring, sweeping him away—
Warm fingers, strong and comfortingly solid, seemed to close about his own. That small point of contact anchored him, made him somehow real again, gave him somewhere to be. He clung desperately to the small digits and let them draw him through the confusion, through sights and sounds and scents that meant nothing to him even as they bombarded his senses, and the warm hand clasping his drew him inexorably deeper into the seething confusion—
—into sudden silence.
At the center of chaos, as at the center of an autumn whirlwind, peace and stillness as unbroken as the surface of a forest pool in the moonlight. And reflected in that pool was himself, and beside him a small figure clothed only in the sparkling green leaves of vines that twined around her slender limbs, with tumbled gold-brown curls and tawny gold eyes, one brown hand clasping his. Her eyes were wild, like a beast’s, but somewhere in those eyes was something warm and familiar, something very like love.
Startled, Val turned and looked all around him. There was no one; he stood in darkness at the edge of a pool. That was all. Yet when he turned back to the placid water, the small figure still stood beside him, firmly clasping his hand.
Val’s lips barely moved.
“Mother?”
There was no answer, at least none that Val could see or hear. Yet somehow he felt in her touch that she understood him, acknowledged him, accepted him. In the reflection she stood on tiptoe and reached up with her free hand to touch the contours of his face, and Val could see now a hint of her own features mirrored there. Her fingers were rough and hard, her arms contoured with wiry muscle. She smiled, and Val could see a little sadness in that smile. Then she released his hand and turned, facing Val directly out of the pool, and extended both hands toward him.
Hesitantly Val reached toward her, expecting to touch warm flesh or, possibly, the cool surface of the water. Instead his hands plunged into fire and he was pulled forward into an inferno. Fire swirled around him and through him, consuming him body and spirit, and for a moment it seemed as if the flesh would be seared from his bones. Then the fire passed, leaving him untouched in its path, leaving a glowing trail of embers as it moved on. Val followed the trail of fire, his feet unburned by the embers as he walked, then ran, reaching for the flames that had for one moment been a part of him. Closer he came to the dancing flames, and closer, until he reached out and grasped them, and—
Val yawned and stretched, groaning as stiff muscles protested the movement after hours of immobility. The furs were soft and cozy over and under him, even the stone was warmed by the sun and his body, and Val luxuriated in the comfort a moment longer before he grudgingly opened his eyes.
Sunlight flowed like warm honey over the skin of his face, promising a hot day despite the early hour, and a soft breeze ruffled his hair. He could smell Dusk somewhere nearby, and the tempting aroma of roast meat and hot baked tubers made his mouth water. Val sat up and stretched again, reaching up to trace the contours of his face and smiling to
For a moment she was there before him, just as he’d pictured her, and some communication passed between them, a flash of understanding as fleeting as a finger of lightning reaching for the earth. He could almost touch her, almost clasp her tiny fingers, and he reached desperately for her, but already she was fading, drawing away as so many others had drawn away from him. Her image dwindled and was gone, and he was alone again in the darkness as he sank deeper into confusion. There was so much life boiling and seething around him that somehow it made him seem infinitely small and insignificant, unworthy, less than nothing. Oh, he could drown in this no less than in a spring-flooded stream, roaring, sweeping him away—
Warm fingers, strong and comfortingly solid, seemed to close about his own. That small point of contact anchored him, made him somehow real again, gave him somewhere to be. He clung desperately to the small digits and let them draw him through the confusion, through sights and sounds and scents that meant nothing to him even as they bombarded his senses, and the warm hand clasping his drew him inexorably deeper into the seething confusion—
—into sudden silence.
At the center of chaos, as at the center of an autumn whirlwind, peace and stillness as unbroken as the surface of a forest pool in the moonlight. And reflected in that pool was himself, and beside him a small figure clothed only in the sparkling green leaves of vines that twined around her slender limbs, with tumbled gold-brown curls and tawny gold eyes, one brown hand clasping his. Her eyes were wild, like a beast’s, but somewhere in those eyes was something warm and familiar, something very like love.
Startled, Val turned and looked all around him. There was no one; he stood in darkness at the edge of a pool. That was all. Yet when he turned back to the placid water, the small figure still stood beside him, firmly clasping his hand.
Val’s lips barely moved.
“Mother?”
There was no answer, at least none that Val could see or hear. Yet somehow he felt in her touch that she understood him, acknowledged him, accepted him. In the reflection she stood on tiptoe and reached up with her free hand to touch the contours of his face, and Val could see now a hint of her own features mirrored there. Her fingers were rough and hard, her arms contoured with wiry muscle. She smiled, and Val could see a little sadness in that smile. Then she released his hand and turned, facing Val directly out of the pool, and extended both hands toward him.
Hesitantly Val reached toward her, expecting to touch warm flesh or, possibly, the cool surface of the water. Instead his hands plunged into fire and he was pulled forward into an inferno. Fire swirled around him and through him, consuming him body and spirit, and for a moment it seemed as if the flesh would be seared from his bones. Then the fire passed, leaving him untouched in its path, leaving a glowing trail of embers as it moved on. Val followed the trail of fire, his feet unburned by the embers as he walked, then ran, reaching for the flames that had for one moment been a part of him. Closer he came to the dancing flames, and closer, until he reached out and grasped them, and—
Val yawned and stretched, groaning as stiff muscles protested the movement after hours of immobility. The furs were soft and cozy over and under him, even the stone was warmed by the sun and his body, and Val luxuriated in the comfort a moment longer before he grudgingly opened his eyes.
Sunlight flowed like warm honey over the skin of his face, promising a hot day despite the early hour, and a soft breeze ruffled his hair. He could smell Dusk somewhere nearby, and the tempting aroma of roast meat and hot baked tubers made his mouth water. Val sat up and stretched again, reaching up to trace the contours of his face and smiling to
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