WOLF DAWN: Science Fiction Thriller/ Romance (Forsaken Worlds) Read online

Ash felt that he was a different person since that remarkable day of mind-touch healing with Lindha. No, not different. It was as if something he wasn’t had simply floated away. What was left was only him. Now he knew himself to be the person he really was.

  Freed from the burden of Dark Sankomin, he had discovered a sense of humor, had left guilt behind, and in his eyes the entire universe seemed brighter. It was as if he had taken off thick, dark, protective glasses, after having worn them all his life. Everything was bright, fresh, and wonderful. Not only that, he no longer feared the end he had imagined for so long. It had been always there, that malevolent future. Like a demon of malicious intent, it lay at the back of his mind, poking him, prodding him, reminding him of his assured doom. As the last Delian, he could not have escaped the Dark Sankomin. He had been destined for a death from madness and despair.

  Ash ran his finger up and down Lindha’s arm, drawing little circles, aware of the incredible fascination and attraction she held for him. Everything about her was so new, yet he already felt so comfortable with her, as if he had known her forever. “I’m certainly glad to hear what you said about your will,” he said with a bold grin.

  “You don’t ever need to force me, Ash, not for anything you want.” As if to settle the matter, she rolled on top of him and kissed him soundly. After a few moments, she raised her head with an inquisitive look.

  “Ash, what’s it like, mind-touching the animals?”

  Ash’s brow drew down in a frown and for a moment he was lost in contemplation. What was it like to mind-touch the animals? Ash sighed. There was nothing like it in the whole universe. The experience was impossible to describe. He said, “Lindha, it is a bit like mind-touch with a person. There is another living being that I connect to.” He concentrated. “But Lindha, the animals …”

  “What about the animals?”

  He smiled and got to his feet, restlessly punctuating his words with his hands. He breathed in deeply. “It seems to me sometimes that I can spend the entire day with any of them. They want to survive, as people do, and that is about the only similarity. They are so self-contained.” Ash was pacing now with animation as he tried to express himself. “They are not disturbed by guilt, nor do they cry with regret or complain about life. They just go about their business. It often seems to me that they are not dissatisfied by anything.”

  Lindha raised her eyebrows in surprise.

  “It’s true. They don’t suffer the Dark Sankomin as people do. Their minds are different. They never think about possessions, other than perhaps a mate, as in the case of the wolves. But when mated it isn’t ownership, it is unity, and protective care of each other.” For a moment he seemed lost in thought, and then he said absently, “I think I would have died long ago from the Dark Sankomin if I was unable to mind-touch the animals.” His expression lightened. “You see, animals live in the now. So unlike a human, forever plotting and planning and regretting. Before you, the greatest peace I was capable of experiencing was by living in an animal mind.”

  His attention fixed on something unseen as his voice trailed to a stop. A strange feeling came over him then, moving from deep inside of him. He thought: I can be myself with them. Sometimes I feel more wolf than man.

  Trueborn! Inhuman!

  It was that feeling he had before. Something the Seer had told him. He thought: This is what I’ve lost. This is what I seek … this truth.

  “Could you show me?”

  “What?” Ash said coming out of the memory, momentarily disoriented. The feeling disappeared. It was gone so completely he could hardly remember what he had been thinking of.

  “Ash,” Lindha said. “Are you okay? You left me for a minute there. You were talking about the animals. I was asking you if you could show me. I want to mind-touch them.”

  “That’s right.” He smiled. “I don’t think so, love,” he said, shaking his head with regret.

  “Oh,” Lindha said, looking away. Ash immediately felt sorry; she looked so disappointed. “Lindha, I don’t even think my people knew how to do it.” He frowned and deliberated for a moment. “I wonder. You know, if we were in full contact, perhaps you could be with me while I found an animal to touch. It would be difficult, to have our minds joined while I project. I would direct it, but it just might work.”

  She jumped up. “Oh! Please. Let’s try.”

  “Fine. But first, comfort.” Ash got a thick blanket out from his saddlebag. They were in a secluded meadow, safe and private on Temple property. They both lay down, easily making contact.

  “Lindha?” Ash feel her presence, a light, healing green, but wanted to make sure.

  “I’m here.” She radiated affection.

  “Good. Hold on. I am going to contact Tarplan. Remember, if we make contact with him or any animal, don’t say or think anything, all right? It’s intrusive and could frighten them. Just be there and experience them, with your mind as blank as possible. Otherwise you may upset them.”

  “As you wish, of course.” Her excitement bubbled through to him.

  Ash reached for Tarplan, slipping into his large animal body like a fish sliding into a stream. Then they were both there; they were the stallion.

  Tarplan was unaware of their presence. Tarplan’s eyes, located on either side of his head, gave him wide, panoramic vision — but he was quite unable to view what was directly in front of him. His large pupils seemed to be able to detect the slightest movement however, far more than human sight. It was astonishing, to see what a horse saw. Lindha understood then why horses seemed to shy unexpectedly: they could view motion peripherally that human eyes were unable to see. Colors were different, too. While not precisely color blind, Tarplan seemed to perceive a lot of gray, and little red. It was quite curious.

  The animal was heavy, all four feet solidly placed. It was odd to have four legs and hooves, yet it felt natural and right, too. All Tarplan seemed interested in was the soft violet grasses. The three of them together sought out the tender blades, occasionally finding juicy pink clover, tearing and grinding the delicious fare with his large molars. The meadow smelled sweet, with delicate nuances of fragrances that neither Ash nor Lindha were ordinarily able to differentiate, much less identify. Apparently grazing animals were able to discern with precision a vast number of plants through smell.

  The meadow was wholly different from the viewpoint of a horse. The sensation of Tarplan’s large and powerful form combined with his thought. The animal was intent on and absorbed by the simple act of eating. It was exhilarating. She knew the smell of warm grass, earth and flowers. The sun was warm and restful on his back. Lindha enjoyed the soothing impression of contentedly swishing a tail. Tarplan was intelligent but arrogant, considering himself superior to other horses and animals.

  The minutes passed. Ash tired of Tarplan’s touch. He broke contact.

  “That was wonderful!” Lindha said sitting up with excitement. “A bit disorienting and disconcerting at first, but soon eating grass seemed quite the natural thing to do — didn’t it taste delicious? So many different flavors and smells — oh, I could do that all day! I see what you mean. Why did we stop?”

  Ash smiled, and listened patiently as she detailed her experience with tireless fervor. He had been bored by Tarplan, but his heart swelled as he watched her joy. When there was a pause in her verbal tirade, Ash quickly jumped in. “Want to try it again with another animal?”

  “Oh, yes.”

  He pointed to the blanket and she lay down next to him once more. She contacted Ash and he thought, “Hold on.”

  Reaching out for some time, Ash became aware of a fleeting touch and made contact. Perfect! It was a whitehawk. Ash and Lindha had taken flight. Soaring with the great white bird, they climbed high into the sky as if ascending to the gates of the Golden Lands.

  Upon contact Lindha experienced an elemental assault on her senses. A whitehawk’s eyesight was far advanced when compared with homo sapiens. The bird’s vision had a degree of complexity t
hat isn’t present in human vision, and for which human sensory experience provides little intuitive understanding. Lindha was astonished at the vivid colors, the spectrum of colors in a visual band she had never perceived in her human form.

  Ash was used to the bird’s extraordinary sight and knew exactly what he was seeing. He waited patiently while Lindha assessed, interpreted and analyzed, making sense of the whitehawk’s complex vision.

  Ash projected calm awareness as Lindha struggled with sensory overload. There was so much to understand. It took some time to experience some degree of comfort in the foreign bird form. The whitehawk was aware of every tiny shift of wind, of each thermal updraft or downdraft, the quality of the air, the speed and direction of the airflow, the temperature and amount of moisture it was composed of. She knew all these details, but had no idea how she knew them. Somehow she could distinguish the quality of the air, any dust particles, discern every detail. The bird was enjoying the updrafts, and soaring complacently over its territory. Lindha felt the rapid beat of its heart speeding, her strong, wide wings; she could feel its blood flowing. She could feel every feather, the large ones at any rate. She could move them singly or as a group. The whitehawk had total control.

  This is the most incredible thing, Lindha thought. She was flying. Hers was a careful isolated thought that she didn’t project, recalling Ash’s admonition to not confuse the animal. Mind-touch with animals showed her a freedom such as she had never known. As she began to make sense of the bird’s fantastic vision she realized just how much she could see. It was as if she had had impaired sight all her life and never knew it until her vision was corrected. The quality of light, dark, heat, cold — she could see everything! A little mouse under a cool, moldy log; a fish in the river leaping for a bug; Ash and her, laying on a blanket, hand in hand kilometers away; a tiny red wren-finch sitting on Bethan’s back. Any movement was immediately perceived by her acute bird sight. Lindha felt she would never tire of it. She could fly away forever.

  The great bird made a fast turn — it had seen something, but what? Its heart rate, already astonishingly rapid, sped up. The wind poured over its wings like fresh, cool running water and Lindha felt she had never known such pleasure, such joy. The bird called out and its raucous call thrilled her; the song it gave was heady, like music to her distinctive bird hearing. The whitehawk was sweeping and diving, its winged form primed with adrenaline. Something had happened; the bird was responding to some commotion. Its dizzy maneuvers assailed her senses with a kaleidoscope of colors. The sensation of wind was lifting them, propelling them; it was slipping over feathers, brisk and bracing. It was a unique sensual impression that thrilled her.

  “Oh, what is it excited about?” Lindha wondered with breathless curiosity. It was an unshielded thought, and the whitehawk faltered. It diverted from its precision flight. Misjudging the wind, it began to fall.

  “Silence,” Ash ordered. Then, projecting to the whitehawk he thought, “It was the wind. The wind made an unexpected shift then. It was nothing.”

  The whitehawk recovered and flew on, no longer disoriented.

  Ash strained to keep contact with the whitehawk, to soothe the bird, to hold on to Lindha’s mind. It had been difficult at first, but just now, after Lindha’s projected thought, it was much harder. It wasn’t just Lindha’s thought. What else had changed?

  There was a flash of white — it was another whitehawk, flying near them. A thrill of excitement flowed through the body of the whitehawk Ash was within. A challenge! The biological ritual began, as it had no doubt for hundreds, perhaps thousands, of years. The birds needed to discover who was the more skilled in flight. Before Ash could react, they were in a steep dive and had fallen into a downdraft, losing height, spinning and twirling … but no! Entering an elevating thermal updraft he was up again.

  Oh! Ash thought, when he realized what was happening. With the awareness, his physical body lying on the blanket with Lindha jerked, as if receiving an electrical shock. The whitehawk was involved in a mating flight. He was proving to his prospective mate how clever, how cunning and adept he was in the air. He was displaying his love through the risks he was taking with his dangerous and inventive maneuvers in flight.

  But the contest was over. The female whitehawk had accepted him as the most skilled of the opponents that were battling for her favors. Ash had observed two other birds nearby, but hadn’t understood the connection until now. The whitehawk that they were in mind-touch with knew that he had won.

  He was worthy.

  Such sensations. Such emotions: arrogance, pride, joy, lust. An overpowering instinct to mate almost overwhelmed Ash. With a frenzy of excitement the hawk flew near the female, catching a wing in hers, reaching toward her possessively and then …

  Ash broke their contact and sat up. Mindful of Lindha, he had blocked her mental rapport from the full effect of the animal’s touch. His heart pounded and he was breathing fast. For a moment he found it difficult to re-orient himself, to gain control of his fevered flesh.

  Lindha was also breathless, her face flushed pink against her skin. “Oh, why? Why did you stop? That was wonderful!”

  Ash knew that he had been affected; he was violently aroused. As the focal point, he was more aware of the contact, having a deeper more complete physical union. Sitting up, he wiped the perspiration that had formed on his brow and then smiled down at Lindha. She was enthralled, her face alight with the joy of mind-touch with a whitehawk.

  “I stopped because I wanted to, Lindha,” he explained, lying back down beside her. “The whitehawks were going to mate. Leave it to me to find one engaged in that capacity.” He shook his head ruefully. “I didn’t want to be involved in their love.” He stroked her face and neck. “We have love enough on our own, don’t you think? We don’t need to intrude on someone or something else.”

  “No,” Lindha breathed. Ash bent over to give her a gentle kiss, but she moaned and fell upon him, reacting with a heated passion that dumbfounded him.

  Sweet Jana. Ash was surprised by the intensity of her arousal. He had been unable to block her after all. The urgency of the whitehawk’s mating must have caused this instant need. Ash smiled at her with approval. There was only one cure for the fever that she had, this burning illness that he knew so well. He mind-touched Lindha and felt her urgency.

  With a casual strength Ash flipped Lindha over, so she was lying face down. He had pinned her arms beneath her. He covered her, his chest against her back. Lindha was unable to move. He pulled her hair away from her neck, and kissed and lightly bit her, his warm breath, lips and tongue trailing a silky line of pleasure down her throat, against her skin. He was hard against her.

  Moving along her neck, he whispered into her ear, “I think you got excited by being with the animals, love.” He continued kissing and nibbling up and down her neckline, behind her ear, the side of her face, his warm breath hot against her skin. He said in a low voice, dark with erotic promise, “Maybe you want to do it like the animals do?”

  Lindha moaned, “Oh, Ash, please.”

  “Don’t move,” Ash ordered, quickly stripping off his clothes. A whirlwind was coming. It was up to him to direct this storm. He had made love to Lindha uncountable times, with gentleness, love, and urgency; but always with some tempering and control. This would be different.

  Ash’s breath came fast now, his blood speeding, his heart thumping like a jackhammer in his chest. It was as if all their combined arousal had coalesced into this one moment. He covered her feminine form again, this time straddling her on his knees so his hands were free. He pulled up her shirt, releasing her bra, reaching his hands around to hold her breasts.

  Lindha moaned and whimpered, but didn’t move. He had ordered her not to.

  Ash knew she was his to command. He was glad for mind-touch. He wanted to feel her desire, and her pleasure. He inhaled deeply and held his breath, striving for the last of his control. He cupped her breasts, squeezing the fullness and runni
ng his fingers along the curve of them. He was in full mental rapport, so he knew what she felt, what he was doing to her.

  Lindha was ready, consumed by raw, mindless passion. She was making little mewing sounds of need, and of pleasure.

  Ash felt like a wolf with Lindha as his she-wolf. She wanted to be conquered, she wanted to be dominated. She wanted him.

  Ash was more than happy to give her what she wanted. With untamed menace he ordered: “Up, on your hands and knees.” His command was harsh, coarse and erotic.

  Breath ragged, she obeyed.

  “Lindha,” he whispered her name, both out loud and in her mind. His voice was thick and aroused. It was a sensual caress.

  “Ash,” she said, an agitated hungry whisper in his mind. She trembled beneath him, and the tiny sounds of passion she was making were getting louder. Teeth clenched, Ash smiled with tight-lipped pleasure. It was an extraordinary sort of music Lindha was making. They were pitiful, soft and endearing sounds — whimpers, really. The whitehawks mating had almost pushed her over the edge. He heard her thoughts — they were a mantra: “Please! Please! Please!” He knew his Lindha was at the limits of her control.

  He decided to make her wait, to torment her just a bit, to discover how much control she had. He thought, “Do you know what the animals do when they are wild in heat?”

  “They screw, Ash. They screw and screw and screw!”

  Ash growled playfully and showed her, in his mind, his wolf-self.

  She turned her head to look at him and said out loud, her voice unsteady, “Really, my love?” It was then that she shocked him. In fact, she surprised him completely.

  Lindha thought, “That’s nothing to what I’ve got to show you.” She showed him then, in her mind what she was imagining. Her thoughts crashed through him with a tidal wave of heat. Her blue, blue eyes were dark, wild and wanton.

  And in the end it was Ash that lost all control.

  30. Trueborn Purpose

  It’s fascinating to watch a person experience fear. People are more alive when they are threatened than at any other time. Genuine fear gifts an individual with moments of honest life. Hope enhances fear. With heightened senses an individual will cling to unattainable expectation. Despair is when the subject knows all hope is forever extinguished. It is this that creates irretrievable breakdown.