She Woke

    By Katherine Delany (E-mail: fevra@yahoo.com)
    December 2002

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She woke to the warmth of his presence, for the first time in far too many
moons. A lifetime, that's how it felt, and finally here he was again, close
to her side, one long foreleg casually draped over her. She could hear him
wheezing, even his breathing gone undignified in sleep. Could see the dark
and tawny pattern of his fur, so close to her nose, but she couldn't scent
him, and she didn't think to question the strangeness of that absense.

Enough to have him here, more than enough. So much more than she could 
accept, after wild grief and shame and the young who'd grown of it.She
didn't let herself think of how she'd left them, too young, still, to fend
for themselves but oh she couldn't stay. 

Such a time wandering since, lonely and dust-dry, wrenching grief and how
had she found this at the end of it. Beloved, longed-for presence and she
couldn't think how they'd found each other again. So close, warm and
comforting, but she couldn't catch the scent of him even with his pelt
tickling her face and somehow her awareness of him was blurred and she had
to question as her awareness slid and blurred and she felt--

cold.

She woke to the scent of dust, and no other presence but unmarked ground.

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