Wolf and Dragon

By Juli Monroe

Denise stood outside practicing Tai Chi. Her feet slid through the slushy, spring snow, wearing a path through the whiteness, showing the patterns of her moves. Step Back to Ride the Tiger leading to Turn Around with Lotus Kick. She smiled to herself. What she had always loved about Tai Chi were the colorful names of the moves. She came out of the kick and transitioned to Bend the Bow and then to Shoot the Tiger. Her feet slid in the snow. Drat! She still had trouble with that transition. She shrugged and continued to the next move, but the slip had broken her mood, and she stopped. Standing for a moment, head thrown back to the sky, she closed her eyes and stilled her thoughts. Spring was coming, and she could feel the quickening pulse of the earth in her own body.

This time of year was the hardest for her to maintain her self-imposed isolation. She always wanted to share the changing of the season with someone.

A sudden bark jarred her from her reverie. She turned to glance over her shoulder at the Siberian Husky, just getting to his feet. His neck hairs were raised, and he stared intently down the slope away from Denise's modest cabin. "What's up, Nick?" she asked. In the several years she had been here, she had grown used to talking to her dog as if he were a person. Sometimes she thought it was part of what kept her sane. A wave of sadness washed over her at the memories that drove her to live here, alone, but she shook her head to clear them, sensing that Nick meant business today.

She started toward the dog, who was still alert and facing down the hill. Denise ran her hand across his back, and he wagged his tail, once, before resuming his attentive posture. Quite concerned now, she decided to investigate, wondering what had appeared in her isolated corner of the world to so upset the dog.

They set off, Nick close by her side. After walking perhaps a hundred yards, she heard a loud *crack* echo over the hills. And then another. She began to run, but softly, using all the skills she had honed in several years of tracking and watching wildlife.

Silently, she arrived at a small clearing and peered out from behind a large tree. Nick growled softly but stayed pressed against her leg, his stiff body betraying his tension.

Distance made identification difficult, but a young man with what she thought were Oriental features stood over the prone figure of another man. The young man was waving a gun and yelling loud enough that the clear air carried his words to Denise.

"...my father, Kwai Chang Caine. I never agreed with him letting you go. Now our revenge is complete. Goodbye and good riddance. Even you, I think, will be hard-pressed to survive this."

He dropped to the ground and briefly fumbled at the fallen man's wrist. Even at a distance, Denise could see the satisfaction in the young man's body posture. Then he rose and turned, scanning Denise's side of the clearing. She crouched down behind her sheltering tree, praying she was sufficiently concealed. After a moment, she dared another look and saw, with relief, that the young man was heading away from the clearing and down the mountain.

Nick continued to growl softly, but he remained beside his mistress. Denise allowed the gunman a few more minutes to get out of earshot, and then she ran out to the man lying motionless in the middle of the clearing. Nick bounded beside her and beat her to the goal. She saw him sniff the fallen man thoroughly.

Denise skidded to a stop, sliding in the melting slush. Barely pausing to look at the man--she had a vague impression of middle age and possibly Caucasian features--she felt at his throat for a pulse. Her heart beat rapidly in anticipation and then slowed when she felt nothing. She sighed, her suspicions confirmed, though she'd hoped the young man had been wrong.

Then, to her amazement, the fallen man took a sudden breath. And another. She gasped and again knelt beside him, gratitude that he was alive overcoming her shock. Searching for the injury, she followed the pool of spreading blood to his left shoulder. She shook her head at her foolishness. Lack of detectable pulse or not, she should have remembered that dead hearts don't continue to pump blood. Grateful that the other man hadn't thought if it either, she gently flipped him over, looking for an exit wound. Finding it, she breathed a sigh of relief. At least her limited first aid skills would not have to figure out a way to remove a bullet.

The man groaned at her manipulations but remained unconscious. Denise was grateful for that mercy. Getting him the quarter-mile or so to her cabin was going to be rough. Just as well that he was out cold.

She took off her coat and laid it over the wounded man. Then she turned to Nick, who was still hovering nearby. She patted the ground near the man and commanded, "Down, Nick." He flopped down, seeming to understand what was needed, because he pressed his bulk up against the stranger, who was still moaning quietly. The dog licked his face briefly and then lay still, anxious blue eyes watching Denise's every move.

She took a moment to speak reassuringly to the dog. "Good boy, Nick. You stay there. I need some branches to make a litter."

He wagged his tail at the sound of his name. She turned to enter the woods, confident that Nick would protect the stranger in her absence.

Denise trotted quickly in search of some sturdy branches. She often cut firewood in this area, so she was familiar with the trees and knew exactly where to look. Soon, she reached her goal, a nearby deadfall. She quickly broke off two sturdy branches and pulled out her pocket knife to strip away excess dead foliage. Then she gathered up her prizes and jogged back to the clearing.

She saw that Nick was still in his place. He thumped his tail on the ground to tell of his delight in seeing her return. She dropped to the ground by the wounded stranger. His moaning had ceased, but now he tossed and turned in obvious pain despite his unconscious state. She looked at him long enough to note the long grayed hair pulled back into an untidy ponytail. The brown suede jacket was dirty and showed hard use. As she pulled off her own coat, she noticed that his clothes hung loosely on him and that his face was gaunt. She briefly wondered why he was on the mountain in such shape, but then turned her attention to getting him to shelter.

Quickly, she ran the long branches through the sleeves of her jacket to make a makeshift litter. Not great but the best she could manage on short notice. She laid it on the ground beside the man and lifted his shoulders onto the center of the jacket. His lanky legs hung onto the ground, but she thought she could manage.

As she moved him, she noticed a leather bag lying nearby. She tossed it onto his chest, on top a small leather pouch, before grabbing the litter and starting to pull him home. Nick watched the operation with interest. Pulling was in his blood, and she had trained him with a one-dog sled, using it sometimes to haul supplies from town. She wished she had the sled with her now, but she didn't want to leave the stranger long enough to go back for it. Putting her back into pulling, she knew this would have to do.

The trip was hard on everyone except Nick, who ran alongside Denise, his brilliant blue eyes scanning the forest. She'd trained him well, and he was a good companion, seeming to understand that his job was to be alert for danger. She feared that the gunman would come back, but she also knew that she could do no more now than getting the wounded man back to the relative safety of her cabin.

From the frequent moans and occasional screams of agony when she couldn't avoid bumping over a rock or fallen branch, she guess that her patient had regained some semblance of consciousness. She tried to make the ride as smooth as possible, but sometimes she sacrificed ease for speed. Once, she almost tripped over a root, nearly tipping him to the ground, but she managed to recover and continue on without stopping. The farther they traveled, the more her shoulder muscles protested the unaccustomed labor.

As she neared her cabin, she glanced back to check her passenger. He was shivering uncontrollably, and she hurried as much as she could, wanting to get him inside. She thanked whatever had made her stoke up the fire before leaving to practice Tai Chi. At least the cabin would be warm.

Finally, she arrived at her home, a small rustic building made of neatly-chinked lumber. It looked more primitive than it was. She had ensured that it was well-insulated. Montana winters got very cold. A cheerful ribbon of smoke snaked out of the chimney, and she was glad to see that the fire was still going.

She pulled the litter right up to the front step. Though she wanted to immediately carry him inside, she had to stretch aching muscles first. Nick pushed at her from behind.

"I know. I know," she protested. "But right now my muscles are like water, and I don't want to drop him on the way in."

The dog backed away, and she finished her stretch. Finally, she felt recovered enough to pull the man to his feet. He was still semi-conscious and managed to walk a little and take some of his weight. It was enough, though she still found it awkward to get him inside. She half-carried, half-dragged him to the bed in the far corner of the single, large room. Carefully, she lowered him onto the coverlet. He moaned once and passed out again.

*Good,* she thought. *Cleaning that wound is going to be a bitch.* She hurried to her tiny bathroom and heard Nick flop down next to the bed as she rummaged for her medical supplies.

Before moving to the mountains, she'd taken the time to learn some basic medicine for herself and Nick, and she'd needed those skills often enough to warrant keeping a well-stocked medicine cabinet. Right now she was particularly glad that she'd gotten fresh supplies a few months earlier.

She spoke out loud as she worked. "Okay. First thing. Antibiotic shot." She grabbed a syringe and the appropriate bottle, double-checking that it was for humans and not for dogs. "Then some clean bandages and antibiotic ointment. Wonder if I can get him to take some Tylenol?" She grabbed it just in case. It wasn't much, but it might take the edge off the pain and keep fever under control.

Dropping the supplies by the bed, she hurried to fill a pan of water. As she did every winter, she thanked her foresight for having the well dug and the pipes run to the cabin. Breaking ice had seemed neat and rustic when she'd first had the idea to move, but she was glad good sense had prevailed. After putting the pan on the stove to heat, she returned to undress her patient and assess his condition. From what little she'd seen, it didn't look good.

She moved the large bag off his chest and carefully set aside the pouch. Something about it hinted at great value to this man, though she could not say what. Then she pulled off the tattered suede jacket and lay it on the floor. It could be salvaged. The silk shirt underneath, however, was beyond hope. She thought it might once have had some sort of animal design, but time and hard use had obliterated most of it. Blood had caked to the shirt on his left side, making removal difficult. She shrugged and reached for her knife to cut it off. She'd find something for him to wear. As she pulled the remnants of the shirt off his arms, she noticed two brands, one on each forearm. A dragon and a tiger. She frowned, knowing they should mean something to her. Suddenly it came to her. "You're a Shaolin monk? Now what is a Shaolin monk doing getting shot in Montana, anyway." She shook her head. "You are a mystery, stranger."

As she finished removing the tattered shirt, she noticed his exposed chest, and she gasped. The bullet suddenly seemed the least of his worries; she could easily count all of the ribs jutting through his skin. "Geez, guy! You look like you haven't eaten in a week!" She glanced at his face, which showed the pinched gauntness of long hunger and added, "Or maybe more like a month."

He tossed and murmured something. She thought it was in Chinese, but he didn't say enough to be certain. "Would make sense, though, with the brands."

Shaking her head, Denise examined the bullet wound. Now that she was able to see it clearly, she sighed her relief. Fairly small caliber weapon. She'd not been able to get a good look at the gun while the other man had been waving it around, so she'd feared the sight of the wound. She humphed. "This guy wanted to kill you and only used a .22? Potentially deadly, sure, but still not my first choice. It's lucky for you, though, Shaolin."

She left her patient briefly to check the temperature of her water. Hot enough, so she pulled the pan off the stove. She carried it over to the bed and pulled up a small stool to rest it on. Then, on inspiration, she grabbed some candles and soothing incense. Quickly, she lit the candles and placed them at the four cardinal points. Finally, she set the incense burning and placed it so the smoke would drift near the wounded man. Amazed, she watched as the stranger's restless tossing ceased as soon as the incense started smoldering and the odor reached the bed. A few moments later, he fell into something resembling a normal sleep. Just as he calmed, a mournful wolf howl split the morning silence, and she smiled, grateful for the omen and for the presence of helpers. Still smiling, she picked up a clean cloth and began to bathe the wound. Things were suddenly looking much better.

The blood had clotted all over his chest, and she found it difficult to clean enough to get to the wound without restarting the bleeding. Once, she applied too much pressure in the wrong place, and red spurted all over his chest and her bed. Denise swore softly and got the bleeding under control before continuing. Finally, she had him cleaned up enough to apply a bandage. Then she gave him the antibiotic shot and rubbed her hands in satisfaction. She'd done the best she could. The rest was up to him.

Standing and stretching briefly, she gazed down at her patient. "I don't even know your name," she mused out loud. A memory tickled in the back of her mind. "That's right. The gunman did say your name." She thought back, trying to remember. "Something Caine, I think." Try as she might, she could not remember the first name. "Well, that's okay. Caine is better than 'Hey You,' so I'll go with it."

She picked up the red-tinged pan of water, stained clothes, and all the other things she had used and began to tidy up. "So, I wonder, Caine. Why was that man trying to kill you?" She dumped the water in the sink. "And what have you been doing to get yourself in such a state?" She turned back to glance over his remaining clothes. Sighing, she decided she'd better remove the pants and give him a sponge bath.

She rinsed out the pan and filled it again, setting it on the stove to heat. "I'm finally getting used to cold baths, but, in your state, I don't think it'd be a good idea. Don't want the shock to undo all the good I just accomplished."

While she waited, she opened the larger bag, hoping for some clue to his purpose in being here. Not much, just a change of clothes and a small journal, which proved to be written in Chinese. "Well, that's a dead end." Something struck her as odd, and she leaned back on her heels to figure out what. The other clothes. They were clean, wrinkled from being folded, but clean and in good condition. A complete contrast to the clothes he'd been wearing. "Curiouser and curiouser, Mr. Caine." Why was he wearing such tattered clothing when what was in his bag was in such good shape?

She turned her attention to the small pouch he had worn across his chest. Opening it, she discovered various herbs, roots and other plants, and she pulled out a few to sniff them. She recognized a few as medicinal, but the contents of this pouch far exceeded her limited knowledge, so she closed it. "I'm trying to learn, but for the moment, I'll stick to the modern stuff."

She carefully stowed his belongings in her only closet and remembered her water. Fortunately, it hadn't yet boiled. She let it cool for a bit while she struggled to remove Caine's boots and then pants. She had to chuckle. "Here I am with my first guest in years. A man, at that. I'm undressing him, and he's too out of it for it to be any fun." She determined that the pants were as unsalvageable as his shirt, and she tossed them aside for later disposal. Next, she removed his shredded socks and raised an eyebrow when she noticed that he wasn't wearing underwear. "Obviously your mother convinced you that no underwear was better than having dirty stuff in an emergency."

Once she had him undressed, the water was cool enough, and she gave him a thorough sponge bath. The actions reminded her of a much younger person she had once done this for, but she pushed those memories aside, knowing they would come back later in her dreams. For now, though, she had someone alive who needed her care.

Finished, she put aside her washcloth and water and fixed a light dinner. She'd been startled to discover that the morning and afternoon had vanished. Nick thumped his tail at her as she cleaned up her dishes. She smiled at her canine companion. "You've been quite the patient one, haven't you, boy?"

Nick gave her a doggy grin in answer, and she reached down to give him a good rub. "Okay," she said as she glanced over at her patient. He still slept, soundly as far as she could tell. "I think we can safely leave him long enough for a quick run." She stretched, suddenly noticing muscles that had tightened from all the demanding, fine work, not to mention the ones she had abused this morning. "I could use a bit of exercise myself, loosen up a bit before bed. Otherwise, I'll never be able to sleep."

Nick jumped to his feet and ran for the door. She chuckled and followed, detouring briefly by the bed. Yes, Caine seemed okay. He had a fine sheen of sweat on his forehead, and she was concerned about fever, but other than that, he rested quietly. She checked the candles. Still lit and with plenty of wax left to burn. The incense stick, though, was getting short, and she replaced it.

Nick barked. Once. Softly.

"I'm coming." She ran her hand gently over her patient's face, wondering why he had been sent here. She'd learned over the years that few things happened without a reason, and she wondered what purpose he was serving. Then she turned to the door and to the happy tail-wagging of her dog.

*************************

They didn't run long, as the sun had nearly set when they started. By the time they returned home, full dark had settled over the mountain. Denise paused for a moment before going inside, loving, as always, the peacefulness of the spring night. But she noticed that her disquiet of the morning had increased. It was as if she'd suddenly become aware of something that had been missing all along, but she'd just been too caught up in other things to notice the lack. She turned to Nick to tell him of her troubles, as she always had in the past.

But the dog had raced off on the trail of some small animal, and Denise sighed briefly before returning to the house.

It was time for bed. She checked on Caine one last time. Still asleep. She put a hand to his forehead. He seemed warmer, but she couldn't do anything about it until he roused enough to take a pill. Shrugging, she turned away and prepared for sleep. In the middle of brushing her teeth, she heard Nick push the door open and pad across the floor to the fireplace. She smiled when she heard the heavy thump of him lying down.

Once she was ready, she left the bathroom, closed the door Nick had left partly open, and glanced ruefully at her occupied bed. "Well, I guess I won't be sleeping there tonight, will I?" She turned to her dog. "I don't suppose I can join you on the floor tonight, Nick?"

He thumped his tail.

"I'll take that as a yes." She went to her closet and pulled down the sleeping bag that she used on her frequent overnight romps in the woods. She spread it out on the floor, near the bed in case Caine needed her in the night. Then she crawled into its cozy depths. Nick walked over and settled down beside her. She was grateful for the furry warmth at her back.

"Night, Nick," she said sleepily before closing her eyes.

*************************

Denise fell asleep easily, as usual. She'd slept well almost every night since she'd sought the isolation of the mountain. But tonight, her sleep was not restful. She tossed and turned, caught in the grip of a dream that would not let her go, no matter how firmly she told herself to wake up. Finally, she let herself relax and accepted where her dreams would take her.

She saw a temple upon a hill. Stars twinkled merrily above the tiled roof, but their cheerful light was drowned out by a sudden explosion. Her view shifted, and somehow, she knew she was now in the temple, surrounded by the licking flames, which threatened to engulf and swallow her alive. She tried to run, but her gaze was caught by the sight of a young boy trying to lift his friend from the ruins. She tried to get to him, but a huge beam fell from the ceiling, falling and pinning her to the ground. Just before the darkness took her, she heard the terrified cry, "Father!"

Shift. Now she was lying in a hospital bed, tearfully embracing a young man, who cried on her shoulder. She felt the joy leap in her heart at the sight of a man she'd never thought to see again.

Now she was walking away from the young man, heading off on a journey. She knew the journey to be necessary, but she could feel the pain in the young man at her parting.

She held a pale, but still-beautiful young woman close to her chest. She felt overwhelming love and crushing sorrow, knowing that this would be the last time he ever held her alive.

He sat on the floor, listening to his son speak angry words straight from the heart. He knew the truth to the words, but he could not answer them. "I may not need a father, but I sure as hell needed a friend." He felt his heart break at his failure to give his son what he so needed.

He held a picture in his hand, showing the woman he had held so close sitting in a Paris cafe. Hope surged in him. Could it be that she is still alive?

Explaining to Peter why he must go and search for her. Knowing that his son did not fully understand, feeling his pain that a beloved father must again wander the Earth in search of inner peace.

Crushing grief when he found the woman and discovered that she was not his beloved Laura. Screaming, "No!"

Denise sat bolt upright, so tangled in the sleeping bag that she couldn't move for a moment. Sounds assaulted her ears, and she forced herself to focus and make sense of them.

Nick howled. And a man screamed, a sound wrenched deep from the heart of a man who has lost all hope.

*************************

Denise untangled herself from the sleeping bag and dashed to the bed. Caine was thrashing and tossing so hard that she was sure he would hurt himself. She dove onto the bed and grabbed his arms. He struggled and hit her in the head. It hurt, but she ignored it, knowing that she needed to calm him.

His eyes were wide and staring, but unseeing--at least not seeing this world. Denise didn't want her eyes to ever open on that nightmarescape. He screamed again, a name this time. "Peter!" He rolled away, nearly falling off the bed. Denise scrambled after him, and, this time, managed to get a good grip. She pulled him into her lap, murmuring soothing, calming words. She noticed that blood was oozing out from under the bandage on his shoulder. But she decided to ignore it for the moment, thinking that he would resist any efforts at treatment.

He fought her firm grip for a moment before giving in, body still tense. She kept up her soothing litany and felt him slowly relax. Suddenly, he buried his head in her shoulder and began to weep, huge sobs wracking his emaciated body. Her soothing hands moved through his hair, stroking, adding physical comfort to her murmured words. Blood, mixed with tears, dripped into her lap, but that didn't matter. Nothing mattered other than one person giving comfort to another who needed it badly.

She didn't know how long she held him, but after a time, he began to calm. Finally, he just lay limply in her arms. Wondering if he had fallen asleep, she shifted him to a more comfortable position. His eyes opened, and he looked at her for the first time. Denise felt a shiver pass through her at the sight of those dead, hopeless eyes. Desperately, she longed to infuse life into them, but she didn't know any words that might help. As dark as her own despair had been, it hadn't come close to matching this.

Searching for something to say to provoke a reaction, she sat up and spoke. "You're bleeding again. Let me tend to that."

His hand grabbed hers, moving faster than she could follow. Loss flickered deep in hazel depths, and she nodded her understanding. "I'm not going far." She motioned with her head to the bathroom. "Just in there to get some stuff. I'll be right back."

The hand gripped her for a moment longer, like a drowning man clinging to a rope, but then it slowly released her. She smiled at him and stood up. What little emotion her departure had provoked vanished, replaced again by dull lifelessness.

Images from her dream hounded her steps to the bathroom, and she suddenly wondered if it had been her dream at all. She shook her head, not thinking she had progressed far enough along her mystical path to share someone else's dreams.

She grabbed some fresh bandages and Tylenol before detouring toward the kitchen for a glass of Gatorade. She was suddenly glad that she kept the stuff around for use after particularly lengthy Tai Chi sessions.

Caine's eyes followed her back to the bed, a bit more emotion visible than earlier, but she still shivered when she met those haunted depths. She shook out a couple of Tylenol and handed them, with the glass of Gatorade, to her patient.

He eyed them with some doubt, and she hastened to reassure him. "Tylenol for the fever." She paused and put a hand to his forehead. Still quite warm. "Yep, it'll help. The ucky-looking yellow stuff is just Gatorade. Nastiest stuff in the universe if you don't need it. Ambrosia of the gods if you are dehydrated, which you are, so drink up." She knew she was babbling, but she was desperate to connect in some way with him. He listened to her impassively and then obediently downed the pills and liquid.

*Damn,* she swore inwardly. *I'd hoped he'd fight the Gatorade. Just to get some reaction out of him.* Somehow she'd doubted that it was on the list of things commonly consumed by Shaolin monks. She'd envisioned them as being more the tea types. But he drank it without comment.

She moved to the other side of the bed to re-bandage his wound. When she pulled off the sodden dressing, she noted that the bleeding had slowed on its own. Nodding in satisfaction, she folded up some gauze and applied pressure until it stopped. She tried to be gentle, but she knew that she must be hurting him. He didn't react. When the bleeding stopped, she applied a new bandage. Remembering the fresh blood all over the bed, she put a shoulder under him to move him so she could change the sheets.

"Come on. Let me move you to the couch for a minute, so I can put some fresh bedding on. I hate for you to sleep in sticky blood all night." He grunted at the effort of getting up, but they made the transfer to the couch and back again in silence. Denise forced herself to remain impassive. Obviously he'd gone through some pretty massive emotional trauma, and he'd talk about it when he was ready.

When she had him settled back on the clean bed, she looked him over thoroughly. He was still pale and thin, but she thought he was quite improved over earlier in the afternoon. Blushing as she remembered her manners, she introduced herself. "I'm Denise McKinney."

Finally, something got through, even if only for a moment. Interest flashed briefly in his eyes, and he made a small bow, as best he could in a nearly prone position. "I am...Caine." His voice was rough with fatigue.

Denise smiled in encouragement. "I'm pleased to meet you, Caine."

His eyes dulled again, though this time Denise thought exhaustion the probable cause. "Well, it is late, and I suppose we should both get some sleep." She started to move back to the sleeping bag, but she heard a throat clearing behind her, and she turned. "Yes?"

He swallowed several times, obviously having difficulty with getting the words out. Finally, he managed to say, "You need not sleep on the floor." His hand moved weakly to indicate the other side of the bed. "There is plenty of...room."

She was about to make a polite refusal, but something in his expression stopped her. He looked so alone in her bed that she shrugged and climbed in on the other side. She shifted a bit, trying to get comfortable without violating the unspoken barrier of space between them. As soon as she settled, she heard his breathing smooth into sleep, and she allowed its steady rhythm to sooth her into welcoming darkness. Just before she succumbed, her mind chuckled at the thought that she was sleeping with her first guest to the cabin. *And on the first night, too.*

*************************

When she awoke the next morning, she felt a hand holding hers. She smiled at the touch and carefully extricated her hand from his. When she sat up to get out of bed, she saw that Caine was still asleep, though somewhat restless. She watched his eyes move under closed lids and saw him frown at whatever he was dreaming. In the cold light of morning, it seemed ridiculous that she had actually shared his dreams. Now she was certain that her imagination had just been stimulated by the arrival of a stranger.

She got up and took a quick, cold shower. She'd never bothered to hook up a heater to her well water. The builder had thought her crazy, and maybe she was, but at the time she'd wanted to toughen her body as a means of strengthening her soul. Now she wondered if her real reason had been wanting to punish her body as a way to atone for guilt, but either way, she'd gotten used to the chill water and the alertness it brought in the morning. She stepped out and dressed quickly. Peering out of the bathroom, she noted that Caine was still asleep. Good. He needed the rest.

She padded barefoot to the kitchen and made a quick cup of tea, part of her morning ritual before Tai Chi. Nick thumped his tail on the hard wood floor, and she let him out for his morning romp. He sniffed briefly at the bed before he left but seemed otherwise uninterested in their guest.

Denise followed him presently and settled into her morning Tai Chi routine. She'd decided to practice sword forms this morning. They were much harder for her than the empty-hand forms. She'd only had about six months formal training before she'd abandoned civilization for the stillness and peace of the mountains. The price for that solitude was having to learn the weapon forms from a video her instructor had made for her before she left, but she thought the tradeoff worth it.

This morning she thought she was finally starting to get the hang of it when she heard the door creak open behind her. She whirled, instinctively bringing up her practice sword in a defensive posture. She lowered her blade when she saw Caine weaving in the doorway.

He'd dressed in the extra clothes she'd found in the pack. They hung loosely on him, emphasizing his thinness. She frowned and stepped forward, noting that he was leaning against the door for support.

"And where do you think *you* are going?" She put as much force in her voice as she could muster, refusing to let him go anywhere in this state.

He managed a sketchy bow. Denise had to restrain herself from running forward to catch him, but his hand grabbed the doorknob in time to avoid a spill. "I am grateful for your hospitality, but now I must move on." His voice was still harsh and cracked from disuse. Denise wasn't sure that he had spoken to anyone in a very long time, months perhaps. Still, she could tell that it had once been a very nice baritone.

She shook her head as she approached him. "I don't think you are going anywhere." She motioned at his unsteady stance. Actually, unsteady was a rather kind way of putting it. He looked as if he were going to fall over any second. "You can barely stand up, much less *go* anywhere." She reached for his arm, ready to guide him inside. Even in his weakened state, he easily avoided her grasp. She stepped back a pace and stared him down. He met her gaze steadily. As worried as she was, she was pleased to see some emotion in his eyes, even if it was determination to leave.

She put her hands on her hips, careful to avoid poking herself with the sword. "I didn't patch you up to have you go wandering off to get hurt again. I don't know if the guy who shot you is still out there or not, but if he is, I don't think you'd be able to do much about him. Now come inside and let me fix some breakfast." She looked him up and down appraisingly. "You look like you need some food. What have you been doing, starving yourself?"

He seemed to think for a moment before shrugging. She thought it was kind of a cute shrug, only one shoulder. Then he stepped back inside. Denise smiled to herself and followed.

He stood uncertainly in the middle of the room. She pushed him in the direction of the kitchen table. "Please. Sit down before you fall down. I don't want to have to patch up your shoulder again."

He sat down while she carefully hung up her sword. She had a small collection of weapons on the wall opposite the bed. Nick picked that moment to come bounding into the house, excited after his run through the woods. He glanced at Caine but didn't stop until he bumped into her legs. Denise looked curiously out of the corner of her eye to see if her guest would remark on the dog, but he just sat at the table, staring off into his own private world. From the look on his face, she didn't think she'd want to go there, not even to visit.

She reached down and ruffled her dog's ears. "Okay, big guy. I'll rustle up some chow for you too." He danced around her legs while she filled his bowl with food. Content at last, he settled in to eat while Denise started to fix breakfast. Not certain exactly what Shaolin monks ate for breakfast, she decided to go for what would taste good to her and to hope that he would eat it as well.

As she started to make pancakes, she sneaked a look at Caine. He had slumped over, head pillowed on his arms. She didn't think he was sleeping, but it was hard to tell, so she kept on with fixing breakfast.

A few minutes later, the pancakes were ready, and she pushed a plate in front of him. He looked up and stared at the food.

"It is traditional to eat food instead of staring at it," Denise commented mildly. "Tends to do you more good that way."

Without a word, he began to eat, mechanically. Denise sighed and went back to cooking for herself. *Well,* she thought, *at least he's eating. That's something of an improvement.*

Unfortunately there was little, if any, other improvement over the next few days. Denise became more and more frustrated as time went on. Caine would eat when food was placed in front of him, but other than that, he reacted to her not at all, spending all his time in what resembled meditation, though she wondered if he were really meditating or merely using years of experience to put on a good show. She went about her normal routine as if she always roomed with a living statue. She faithfully practiced her Tai Chi, deliberately making mistakes, hoping to elicit some sort of response from him, but he ignored her. She typed at her lap top computer, working on the various articles she was writing as a free-lance magazine writer. He ignored her. Not once did he ask what she was doing. Nick nosed at him occasionally, but even the Husky learned to ignore their guest.

Caine spoke only once during that frustrating period, on the second evening. After an entire day of being ignored, Denise had assumed that he did not want her company at night, and so she had prepared to settle down on the sleeping bag. Nick had been delighted to have her nearby for the night--he wasn't allowed to sleep on the bed. Just as she had started to roll out the bag, Caine had spoken.

"There is still room on the bed."

She had stared at him in utter amazement, those words being the absolute last thing she had expected him to say. Stung at having been invisible all day, she had nearly refused, but the pain in his eyes stopped her hot retort, and she had merely shrugged and put away the sleeping bag. Nick had been disappointed, but Denise had understood the request later that night, when she could no longer deny that she was sharing Caine's nightmares.

Most of the images had been the same as the night before but with slight variations. The one that had been different had been of a man, who looked much like Caine, but with glasses, leaving behind a small boy. Denise supposed that the boy was Caine. She had nearly wept from the abandonment she felt.

Caine had again awakened, screaming, and again, she had soothed him and held him while he cried. Sensing that he was not a man who showed such feelings easily, she knew that something immensely traumatic must have occurred to have reduced him to a state where he would cry in the arms of a total stranger.

And every night after that, she slept by him, sharing his nightmares and comforting him when those nightmares jolted him awake. Each morning, she awoke with her hand clasped tightly in his, though that was the only contact between them that he sought. The only other times they touched were when Denise changed the dressing on his shoulder. That wound was healing well, though she could not say the same for the wounds on his soul.

After three nights of broken sleep, she decided she had had enough. Caine was going to talk to her tonight.

********************

Denise did her evening workout and fixed dinner. Caine ate, as usual saying nothing, not even looking at her. When they had both finished, she cleared the table. He arose and went back to the side of the cabin, sitting down to resume his meditation, as if he had never stopped to eat. After she washed the dishes, she went over and sat down in front of him, deliberately adopting the same Lotus position. His eyes flickered upwardly quickly, but that was all.

"All right," she began. "You won't talk to me, and I suppose I should respect that, but nothing says that I can't talk to you."

She paused for a moment to compose her thoughts before resuming. He had not reacted to her words; this didn't surprise her. "I'm going to tell you a story. A story about a young woman who faced more emotional heartache than she had thought she could bear. Let me see, what shall I call this woman?" She pretended to think for a moment, though she had already decided on a name. "Laura. Yes, we'll call her Laura."

Reaction. Caine opened his eyes and looked straight at her. His pain lanced through her entire being, but she refused to break the contact. After a moment, the accustomed dullness and disinterest returned, and he again closed his eyes. But Denise smiled to herself. Just before his lids closed, something flashed. Perhaps she had found the way to get through to him.

Setting her shoulders firmly, she continued her tale. "Laura had been the happiest woman in the world. She had a loving husband and a fine child, a boy. Their love for their son was exceeded only by the love they held for each other. Laura had given up the beginnings of a career to marry and have this child, but she was content, surrounded by love and joy in the household she so contentedly tended."

She watched him wince slightly. Though usually he never moved while meditating, she saw him shift his position.

She continued. "But such joy inevitably angers the gods, for they can not allow mortals to enjoy more than they themselves. And so it was for Laura.

"The only flaw in her perfect happiness was her in-laws. For some reason she never could fathom, they did not approve of her marriage to the fine man she shared her life with."

Caine's eyes flickered again, and he frowned slightly. Denise carefully kept her burgeoning satisfaction from her voice. She *was* getting through, at least a little bit.

"Though the birth of such a fine grandson had eased some of the family tensions, still Laura's husband tended to visit his parents without his wife. Laura and her husband had decided several years earlier that the tensions with her should not deny grandparents the opportunity to spoil their only grandchild. And so, as she had done several times before, she saw her husband and child to the airport and waved them off, confident that she would see them again in a few days.

"The plane crashed."

This time Denise could not keep the pain out of her voice, and Caine opened his eyes. She saw an understanding sorrow in his expression, and she was grateful to have the chance to finally talk to someone who could share her grief. Now he looked at her, his eyes boring deep into her soul. She faltered and could not go on for a moment, but eventually she found the strength to continue.

She saw no need to maintain even her minimal subterfuge, and so she dropped the name of Laura. "I was devastated by the loss of my husband and child." She still could not speak their names, had not spoken their names since the crash. "Of course I blamed myself. If I had not allowed them to go on the trip. If somehow I had been a better daughter-in-law. Then I too would have been on that plane. Either it would not have crashed or we would have all gone together. I thought then, and sometimes, at night, when my despair is enough to make the dead of night seem bright, sometimes I still think that I would give anything to have gone with them."

Caine reached out for her hand and held it tightly. Denise felt the tears start to flow down her face. She was amazed. She had not cried after it had happened. She had feared at the time that if she started, she would never stop. Perhaps enough time had passed. Perhaps now she could start to heal.

Perhaps her healing could help him?

She surrendered to her tears and her grief. Strong arms encircled her and held her as she finally let herself mourn her departed family. Caine said nothing but simply held her while she cried.

As she grieved, she watched images of her loved ones play across her closed eyelids. Her wedding day. Her son's birth and first steps. The three of them laughing in the park, her then-toddler tumbling on his bottom in the spring grass. Smiling as she watched them get onto the plane that fateful day. Her son turning to wave. She could hear his young voice. "Goodbye, Mommy. See you when we get back."

She let the memories flow, for once not shutting them down as soon as they started. Caine held her, and she had the strangest feeling that he was sharing her memories, sharing them the same way that she had shared his dreams. Surprisingly, sharing them made them easier to bear, and, even in the depths of her grief, she felt better than she had felt since she had fled to her mountain.

Eventually, the flood of tears slowed and finally ceased. She allowed herself the luxury of lying in Caine's arms for a few moments more before pulling back and looking at him.

His hazel eyes met hers, and Denise thought she had finally broken through his barriers. She held his gaze, enduring the searing pain reflected back at her, seeing also the comfort that he tried to project through his own agony. She opened her mouth to speak, not certain what to say, but wanting to connect with words as well as with emotion. But, at that moment, he pulled back, his arms leaving her. His eyes traveled back to the floor. Frustrated, she felt his barriers slam back into place.

As his eyes lowered, and the contact between them broke, she felt a sudden, surprising pang of loss. Confused, she got up and dashed for the door. Nick, sensing a run, jumped up and went out with her.

Night had fallen, but she didn't care. She needed to leave that place, her frustrations and her sudden unexpected loss behind. They both began to run, Nick leading the way, his eyes better adjusted to the dark.

Denise's good sense took over before they had gone far. The full moon provided some light, but not enough to justify risking a fall in the dark. She slowed her frantic pace and finally sat down in the half-melted snow, not caring how wet she got. Nick ran on for a bit but then returned and lay down beside her, keeping her warm as he had kept Caine warm.

"We were so close, Nick," she told her dog. "I know that he was about to talk to me." She shook her head. "What happened?"

Nick gazed adoringly at his mistress' face, not able to provide any answers, just unconditional support and love.

After a few minutes, the snow began to melt through her pants, and she realized that she didn't even have a coat.

"Not real bright of me, eh, boy? Coming out here completely unprepared for the weather. I guess we'd better get back." She stood up and brushed herself off as best she could. Then they both went back to the cabin at a much more sedate pace than on their way out.

When they reached the clearing, Denise paused, reluctant to go back inside. She didn't want to face that blank gaze and numbing silence again. Her soul ached, though she didn't know what it wanted. The full moon shone overhead, lighting the way for her feet, but leaving her heart's path in shadows.

Nick's whine broke her mournful reverie. She noticed him eyeing the slope behind the house in obvious agitation. Denise briefly thought the gunman had returned and took two quick steps toward the cabin. Then she realized what had really upset the dog, and she smiled in pleasure. "Go inside, boy. You'll be happier in there."

The big Husky didn't need to be told twice. He dashed for the door and nosed it open. She watched him slip inside before turning her attention to what strode confidently down the slope. Kneeling down, again unmindful of the snow, she smiled her welcome to the pack of wolves who shared her mountain.

Runner, the rangy alpha male, approached first, confidence in his step. He nosed her cheek, and she rolled over on her side. Liz, his mate, followed and nuzzled her stomach. The others stayed back, but that was normal and no cause for alarm.

She'd discovered the wolf pack soon after she'd moved into the cabin, but she'd never minded the company. They left her alone, and she was careful to keep her distance. But curiosity had soon overcome her, and she'd spent many hours tracking and watching them, satisfying her desire to know them and improving her wood craft at the same time. She'd watched Runner and Liz raise a litter of pups, all with the help of the rest of the pack. She'd soon figured out the pecking order in the pack, and she enjoyed watching the interactions among the wolves.

After nearly a year, the wolves had started taking a more active interest in her. Runner had approached the cabin one night, and she'd watched from the window, fascinated, as he sniffed all around the structure. She'd had to physically restrain Nick, who, though terrified of his wild cousins, had nevertheless wanted to protect his mistress. He still hadn't figured out that she needed no protection from them.

Over the months, the pack had warmed to her, and she'd been able to touch them. She'd used her computer and Internet access to learn everything she could about wolves and their body language, and she'd quickly hit upon kneeling and lying on her side as the best, least-threatening postures. They seemed to accept her as a subordinate member of the pack, and that contented her. She was delighted at the contact with the wolves; she had no need for any authority over the wild creatures.

After a few minutes of gentle stroking and a playful tussle with Runner--he was always careful to use nose and paws, not teeth, seeming to understand that she did not have a wolf-skin coat--the alpha male suddenly glanced over her shoulder, looking directly at the cabin.

Thinking that Nick had come out, she turned to order him back inside. The sight of Caine standing in the doorway stopped the words almost before they had formed.

Denise stood up slowly, fascinated by Caine who was looking at the wolf pack with curiosity and more animation in his face than she had seen since his arrival. Runner stood at attention and gazed at the priest. Occasional shivers passed through his body. Something moved at the edge of her vision, and she turned. Liz had left her side and was moving purposefully toward the house. Caine knelt as the wolf's approach, and she placed her muzzle in his outstretched hands. Briefly, he hugged her furry ruff, and Denise was amazed that the proud animal allowed it.

Moments later, the spell broke, and the pack moved away from the house, fading like ghosts into the surrounding woods. Runner stopped to look back once and give a quick howl. Denise lifted her face to the sky and returned the howl with gusto. For some reason that always seemed to amuse Runner, and his eyes laughed at her as he raced off in the moonlight. Denise watched them go until the night swallowed up the last of them. Then she turned to look at Caine.

He stood in the doorway, framed by the light of the cabin. She walked closer, noting some life still in his eyes. She decided that wolves might be a safe topic.

"I'm surprised that Liz came right up to you. It took months before any of them would approach me."

His eyes were still staring at where the wolves had faded into the night. He blinked suddenly and looked at her. Her heart beat faster when she realized that he really was looking *at* her, not through her or around her. She motioned him back into the cabin. He turned and entered slowly, still in pain from his wound. Denise followed.

Nick came eagerly to her as she stepped through the doorway. He always worried when she was with the wolves. She stroked him reassuringly for a moment before moving to the kitchen with the intent to fix some tea.

Caine's words stopped her. "How long have you run with the wolves?"

She stifled a giggle at the image he provoked. Last year she had read a feminist book called "Women Who Run With Wolves". She hadn't enjoyed it or its intent, but she did like the title. However, she kept her mirth to herself, sensing that explanations would prove cumbersome with the priest.

Then the meaning behind his words sunk in, and she whirled to ask, "How did you know I ran with them?"

He shrugged that one-shoulder shrug again. She sensed it was a common mannerism. "It seemed...obvious. You have a strong connection to them."

She turned back to the tea as she answered his question. "I first met them about three years ago. After about a year, they grew used to me, and I started being able to interact with them. I ran with them the first time last fall. It was a moonlit night, rather like tonight. The first snow blanketed the ground." Her words grew distant with memory, and her hands stopped their bustling motion. She turned to face Caine. "They were howling. It sounded so much like an invitation that I joined in. I don't know how long we sang under the moon, but they finally stopped and started to go. Runner glanced back at me. I don't know how I knew, but he wanted me to come with them, so I did.

"I'm sure they could have run faster, but they set a pace that I could keep up with. We ran a long time." She took a deep breath. "It was magical. I felt like I could have run forever. Runner and Liz let me be in front, with them. They finally found the trail of a deer, and I watched their hunt. I didn't participate, but I stayed close enough to watch."

She shook her head. "I've never felt so alive as on that night. It was the most amazing thing that ever happened to me. I've done it twice since, but neither for so long nor so far." She paused, lost in thought, but finally the present intruded, and she had to turn away. That story had been one of the most intimate things she had ever told another person, and she needed a moment to gather herself before she could face Caine.

Finally, she felt recovered enough to turn back and say, "Good thing too. Took me most of a day to hike back to the cabin after that first time. I was so tired I couldn't see straight." She finished the tea, poured two cups and went to the table. Caine was already seated, still watching her.

As they sipped the hot beverage, clouds misted across his eyes, and she feared she would lose him again.

Denise reached out and took his hand in hers. "No, Caine. Don't leave me again. Talk to me. Tell me what has happened to you." She didn't know why, but seeing the wolves had apparently allowed him to break free of his self-imposed isolation, and she didn't want to lose him again so soon.

He stared into his cup, as if all the answers were written in the dregs. Finally, he spoke haltingly, all the earlier confidence and assurance absent from his strong baritone. "I do not know how to begin."

She pulled him to his feet and led him to the couch, sitting beside him, holding his shoulders, desperately hoping that the contact would keep him talking to her. "Begin...in the beginning," she suggested.

He took a deep breath. "The beginning is very long ago. I do not know if you will want to hear all of it."

She gestured to the cabin around her. Outside, through the window, she could see that snow was falling. Perhaps spring wasn't quite as close as she had thought. "There's no place else I need to be."

He nodded once, a quick gesture that was almost as much bow as nod but still paused before beginning. Denise held her breath, sensing that he could still go either way, tell or not tell.

Finally, he decided to tell. "My story begins more than 30 years ago, with my meeting with a beautiful young woman." He glanced at her. "You are very much like she was then. You do not have her hair, but you do have her eyes." He smiled slightly. "And her persistence."

Denise could feel that her answering smile lit up her entire face. "Tell me about her," she urged.

"Her name was...Laura." He glanced at her. She expected a question in his eyes, but instead she saw that he knew her use of that name earlier had not been an accident. His gaze compelled her to explain.

"I think I may know some of this. I have been...sharing your dreams, though I do not know how."

He nodded. "You have great strength in you. Eventually you will learn to control it, but now it comes as it will."

She wasn't quite sure what that meant, but she nodded at him to go on.

He did so. "I have never...loved another woman the way I loved Laura. She was my life. We had a fine son. Peter. I was content." He paused in reflection. "Perhaps too content."

Denise had to protest. "Don't say that! Even though we are here to learn, we can still be allowed contentment along the way."

Caine shook his head. "Not for me. Not yet. You understand. You said as much in your story."

Denise shook her head in return. "That was...poetic license. I was trying to make it more like a tale."

He looked at her with sad, understanding eyes. "When you truly believe that, you will be healed."

She stared at him, knowing deep in her heart that he was right but not wanting to admit it.

He continued. "I still had much to...atone for. I should have remembered the curse on my line, but, in my pride, I forgot." He shook his head. "That is in the past. I am grateful for what happiness I had.

"But then my Laura grew sick. Nothing I tried could save her. She left me with a young son, and a heart that did not wish to go on alone."

Denise understood that feeling. "But you had to. For your son."

He nodded. "Yes. For Peter, I had to continue. Then my son was taken from me as well."

A flash of image crossed her mind. A younger version of Caine, kneeling and weeping in front of a tall headstone. He reached down to clutch a handful of earth, scattering it on the grave. She was slowly learning to accept such images without question.

The pain of the kneeling man traveled undiminished over the years, and Denise felt her heart go out to him. Losing a child and a spouse. This was an agony whose keen edge she knew all too well. "I cannot tell you how sorry I am, and how much I understand what you must have felt."

Caine leaned back into her warmth. He seemed to take strength from her presence, but even that was not enough to let him go on. He closed his eyes, and his body slumped. She could feel the despair and exhaustion running off of him in waves.

"If you wish to quit..." she began.

He shook his head, eyes still closed. "No. I wish...no, I need to continue. Like you, perhaps I have held my pain alone for too long."

She squeezed his shoulder in understanding. "Then I will listen."

He began again. "I wandered for many long years, searching ever for the essence that was my son. Searching also for something resembling peace." He opened his eyes and leaned back to look at her. "Once, I thought I found someone, and a place I might have stayed." He shook his head and spoke so softly she could barely make out the words. "Many times I have wished I had."

His voice strengthened, and he continued. "Finally I came to a city and found that for which I had been searching." He closed his eyes again, but Denise could see that the images he saw were pleasant ones this time. "I found my son. He had not died all those years ago."

She gave him a sudden hug, glad to share the brief spasm of joy that passed through him. "You must have been very happy."

He smiled, the first full smile that had crossed his face since he had arrived. "Peter was everything I could have wished my son to become. I had not expected to find a...cop, nor such a good one. But he had not forgotten what I taught him at our temple, and he melded the teachings of the street and the Shaolin in a whole that is greater than either part."

Denise tried, mostly unsuccessfully, to envision a Shaolin cop.

Caine continued. "It was not the easiest of reunions. Fifteen years had changed both of us, but our joy at being reunited eased the difficult transition. I was happy to minister to the people of Chinatown and to be with my son.

"But, again, I allowed my joy to distract me from my doom and destiny."

Denise sensed that he had gotten to the heart of his story. The other ups and downs in his life were in the past, accepted and dealt with. This more recent pain, however, was written in unmistakable signs all over his thin and ravaged body.

He sagged, all energy gone from him. He shook his head. "I cannot continue this now."

A part of her wanted him to go on, wanted to know what had brought him to this state, but she made herself say, "All right. It is late. Let's be off to bed. Plenty of time in the morning."

He nodded, obviously relieved.

She cupped his chin firmly, and turned his head to face her. "But you will tell me. You need to share this."

His eyes delved deep into her soul, sending a thrill of fear and excitement through her, though she did not know why. Apparently he found what he sought because he said, "I will. I promise."

She nodded, satisfied that a promise from this man was not easily broken. Then she helped him up. He winced as she half-walked, half-carried him to the bed and gently lowered him. His eyes half closed, almost asleep already. She turned to leave him, but his hand shot out and grabbed her with sudden, surprising strength.

"Do not leave me tonight."

She gently disengaged his hand, squeezing it as she laid it on his chest. "I will be back, but I need to do something first."

His eyes searched hers again, and he finally nodded, letting his head loll back and his eyes close.

She stepped away from the bed, smiling slightly as she regarded his sleeping form. An idea struck her, and she went to her computer. She typed furiously for a few minutes, grinned when she found what she wanted, and then sent a short e-mail. She nodded in satisfaction. Well, it would work or it wouldn't. She powered down the computer, turned off all the lights and then went over to the small altar she maintained near her workstation. She knelt down to light a candle and some incense. Having neglected her devotions the last few days, she suddenly needed the simple solace of meditation and prayer.

She had let someone into her home, into her thoughts, and she was beginning to suspect that she was letting him into her heart. Two weeks ago she could never have dreamed such a thing, and now it seemed as natural as breathing. She shook her head and spoke quietly.

"I believe that things happen for a reason. Was he sent here because it is time for me to leave?"

Denise stared deeply into the flickering flame, the smoke from the incense lazily swirling in front of her, first obscuring, then revealing. She hadn't expected to find her answers there, so she wasn't disappointed. She knew the answers lay within her. Yet, she wasn't certain she had the strength to ask the questions, much less deal with the answers.

She sat there until the incense burned out. Then she pinched the candle wick between thumb and forefinger, sitting in the darkness for a moment before getting up and going to bed.

********************

Denise awoke, unsure of the time, but thinking that she had been asleep for several hours. Opening her eyes, she glanced over at Caine, wondering if he had awakened her, fearing that he was suffering from another nightmare.

His hazel eyes met hers in the warm darkness, his gaze heavy and hooded. The message in those eyes was unmistakable, and she felt her nipples spring erect. Something moved in his eyes, and she felt a warm surge in her groin. The world seemed to spin in a pleasant dizziness, before narrowing to just his body and hers.

Responding to the open invitation, admitting to herself that she had wanted him from the moment she had seen him, she slid over the soft sheets to press herself against him.

Caine was naked. This caused her momentary confusion, as she had been certain he had dropped off fully clothed. Then he touched her and wondering what had happened to his clothes became unimportant.

His hand stroked from the swell of her breast down to her waist and up the gentle summit of hip. Her thigh lay between his legs, and she felt him growing against her. She reached down to stroke the swelling hardness and heard him moan as his head dropped to her breast.

Her hips moved against him in gentle counterpoint to his swirling tongue. Sensation flooded her, and she succumbed to it completely. Briefly, she thought that neither of her two lovers had ever made her feel this way, but then his tongue began a maddening dance down her belly, on an irresistible trip to even more exciting regions, and she forgot all about comparisons.

She wanted to give him the same pleasure as he was giving her, but she seemed to have lost all voluntary control over her body. All motion was controlled by a much deeper portion of her brain, a portion she'd never tapped before. His head moved between her legs, and thought vanished along with motion. She distantly heard herself gasping as his tongue parted her and began slow, heated strokes.

Suddenly, she wanted him in her. She'd never wanted anything as much as that. She tried to force words out of her throat and through moaning, gasping lips, but nothing intelligible emerged. Somehow, he sensed her need, and he moved his hips between her legs and entered her dripping depths. His head darted back to her breasts, and, for one insane moment, her fevered brain became convinced that his tongue and penis had joined, so intense was the duality of sensation coursing through her.

She screamed one word as she came. "Caine!"

**************

Her eyes popped open in the stifling darkness. Her whole body shook with the intensity of the dream. She felt hot, and she threw back the covers to the blessed, cooling relief of the frigid cabin air. Nervously, Denise glanced over at Caine, hoping that she had not screamed aloud.

He gazed at her, his expression unreadable. No hint of scorn, censure, or of passion passed through his eyes. He gave her the slightest hint of a smile and then rolled over, apparently asleep in moments.

It was a long time before Denise was able to follow him.

***************

The next morning, Denise awoke first, and she slipped quietly into the bathroom for a shower.

*Oh, God,* she thought to herself. *After that dream, I'll never be able to face him. And when he was looking at me. He must know what I was dreaming. I'll die of embarrassment if he says anything.* Reluctantly, she had to admit her attraction to the man. *Great, I get off on badly-hurt men who drop in on my doorstep. What does this say about me? Next step, necrophilia?*

But she knew that she couldn't hide in the bathroom forever, so she finally gathered her courage around her and went out to face him, hoping that she wouldn't go too wobbly in the knees if he looked at her.

He was awake, sitting on the floor in meditation. Saying nothing, he got up and walked into the bathroom to deal with his own morning needs. Denise was glad that she didn't have to help him with those anymore. She didn't think she'd be able to manage right now.

She busied herself with fixing breakfast, and they ate together in companionable silence. After a while, she relaxed enough to venture conversation.

"About last night. Do you want to continue now, or wait until this evening?"

Caine considered for a moment. "Tonight." He looked at her with mock-sternness. "For now, I think we had best work on your Tai Chi moves. I have noticed an appalling number of mistakes in the last few days."

She gulped abashedly. Well, she had made the mistakes on purpose to draw him out. Apparently it had worked, just a bit later than she'd planned.

They spent much of the rest of the day working on Tai Chi. Caine was not yet well enough to demonstrate all of the moves, especially some of the ones from the sword form, but she found that he had a gift for explaining exactly what he meant. By the time the sun started to set, she felt as if she had learned more in one day than in the entire time she had been practicing on the mountain.

As she was putting up her sword, he came up behind her and said, "You have great promise."

Denise frowned. "You say that after I tripped over my feet at least three time? Makes me worry about your other students."

Caine surprised her with a full-out laugh. She hadn't thought she'd been that funny, but she was glad to see him laugh. Turning to look at him, she decided that she liked it. And the grin that he gave her made her stomach do a slow roll. *Get a grip, girl,* she warned herself.

They both showered. Afterwards, Denise fixed a simple meal. They both lingered over it--by unspoken agreement, they both knew that Caine would continue his narrative after dinner--but eventually, they gathered up their dishes and did the necessary washing up.

The kitchen spotless, Denise made some soothing tea, and they settled back onto the couch. Caine sipped his tea for several minutes before beginning. "One day I came into possession of a picture that shattered all that I had believed in."

He stopped. Denise spoke encouragingly. "Go on."

"The picture was of Laura. In a Paris cafe. Wearing clothes that were obviously modern."

Denise's eyes went wide. "But, how could that be? You said she was dead!"

Caine nodded. "Yes. That was what I had thought. But...I had not actually been with her when she died. I had been in the village, getting supplies."

"Surely you saw the body, if only to say goodbye one last time."

"I had." He paused, and she could hear the rough edge of remembered pain in his voice. "I had wanted to be there, with her at the end. I wept over her body, asking her forgiveness for dying alone."

Tears flowed freely down his cheeks, and Denise held him tight until he could go on.

"But even if the picture were a...fake, I had to investigate. I could not pass up a chance, no matter how small, to see my Laura, to hold her in my arms again."

Denise nodded. "I would have done the same."

Caine sipped some more tea before going on. "I showed Peter the picture. Told him that I was going away to try to find her. He...wanted to go along, but I said that this was something I had to do alone." He slowed. From the intensity in his voice, Denise thought that he was trying to convince her, as well as himself, that he had done the right thing.

"I wanted her to myself for a time."

Denise hugged him. "I can understand. And I am certain that Peter did as well."

Caine shook his head, misery etched on his features. "He...did not."

He closed his eyes, and Denise had a flash. It was from the dream she had had several days ago. A young man poised in the doorway. Angry words. "I may not have needed a father, but I sure as hell needed a friend!" Even as she finally understood what tormented the man in her arms, something about that scene did not ring true.

He opened his eyes and looked at her. He nodded. "Yes. Those were the last words my son spoke to me. I went to Paris, but I have never forgotten that we parted in anger, not in joy."

"But why?" Denise asked. "Why was he so mad?"

"I do not know." He shook his head in frustration. "There are holes in my memory. I remember that he was angry, but I do not remember why."

"What happened in Paris?"

Caine sighed. "There are too many holes. All I remember is that I did not find Laura. She is not alive. My search, and Peter's anger, were in vain."

Denise held onto him tightly, his body so tense that she thought his muscles would tear him apart. "There's nothing else you remember? Nothing at all?"

His voice shook. "Nothing. I have...tried, but it is gone. Gone like my wife and my son."

They sat for several minutes in silence. Slowly, she felt him relax. Finally, he said, "Tell me about how you came to be here."

Her eyes opened wide at the sudden topic change, but she went with it and shrugged. "Not much to tell, I guess. My husband and son died in the plane crash. I used the insurance money to buy this place. I couldn't face my friends or anyone else. They all meant well, but I couldn't stand their pity, or even their sympathy."

"Where did you learn Tai Chi?"

She smiled. "I'd started it a few months before...the plane crash. My instructor was wonderful. He was the only person I could stand to be around after it happened. He never spoke of it. He just taught me, allowed me to lose myself in the movements." She motioned to the sword on the wall. "He gave me that. I think that he knew I was leaving before I did, and he said that I could find comfort in sword forms. He also taught me about hunting and living in the mountains." She shook her head. "I knew so little. I never would have made it through the first winter without what he taught me."

Her voice caught at the memories, and now it was time for Caine to hold her tightly. She cried softly for a few moments before going on. "He taught me more than survival." She nodded at the altar. "He also showed me the...power of nature. Healing power. He thought that if I returned to nature, perhaps I could find the peace I was seeking."

"Your totem is the wolf?" It was less a question than a statement.

Denise looked at him in surprise. "How...did you know?"

He smiled and punched her lightly under the chin. "Perhaps, the wolves?"

She ducked her head. "Yeah, I guess that might have been a tip-off. Sorry. Shamanism gets lumped in with all the 'New Age' stuff these days. I don't like to advertise."

He shook his head. "There is power in what you believe. And in what you do." He searched her eyes appraisingly.

She couldn't help the sudden heat that suffused her as he penetrated her with those eyes.

"You are very like the wolf. Loyal, protective of others. I see that you would die for your pack. But..." he let her wonder where he was going for a moment. "...wolves need a pack. They are not solitary animals."

Suddenly, Denise felt the urge to get up and pace. "I know that. Sometimes, in the night, I can hear them howling, yet I feel so alone. I know that I need others." She walked back and forth in front of the fire. Took down her sword. Put it back.

Caine waited patiently.

"And yet, Caine, I don't know if I am ready to go back. Ready to face all those people. I have grown...accustomed to being alone. I'm afraid that my spirit will be stifled by all those people around me."

"When the time is right, you will go back."

She grinned ruefully. "Yeah. I guess you're right."

She stretched, suddenly aware of the lateness of the hour and turned to go into the bathroom. Caine's next words stopped her.

"Do you dream walk?"

She whirled, feeling as if she should be surprised, but not. She was finally getting used to his uncanny knowledge. Besides, she'd said as much to him earlier. "Yes. I guess I do."

She sat down on the bed. "Tom, my instructor, talked to me about some of the basics. He recommended a few books. The first time I walked knowingly in the dream world, Wolf came and spoke to me. Claimed me as his own. I've gotten pretty good at directing my dreams since then, made several dream quests and spirit walks, but I had no idea until you came that I could walk in another's dreams." She stopped, not certain how he would respond to her answers.

His voice came so softly that she almost could not understand him. "I am...grateful...that you are there. I could not have stood being alone."

She breathed a sigh of relief. He understood. "I will be there whenever you need me."

They both froze at her words, both sensing a larger commitment there than she had planned. Neither spoke for a long minute. Finally, Denise fled to the bathroom to get ready for bed. When she finished, Caine silently followed her, and they both settled down to go to sleep.

They lay close, almost but not quite touching.

****************

She'd half-expected to share his dreams tonight, and she was not disappointed.

They started on familiar ground. Flash of Peter's grave. The fire in the temple. Looking at the picture of Laura in Paris.

Then they moved into areas new to her dream self. A Paris cafe. Seeing a woman who looked, moved and acted like Laura. Clutching that woman in his arms, crying into her golden hair.

The whirling oblivion of drugs administered in tea. Yelling, "No!" as he realized his Laura truly was gone forever. Waking in a dark room, surrounded by lights and sounds and men with truncheons. Pain shooting through his entire body, amplified by the drugs, his fear, and despair.

Snatches of restless sleep. Lying in filth, much of it his own. Revulsion at his state.

A voice whispering incessantly to him. "You have failed, Shaolin. Your wife is dead. Your son hates you. Everything you have done has crumbled like fall leaves in the wind. Live on, always knowing your failure."

His screamed denials growing fainter and less certain.

A dazed, drugged journey. Perhaps by plane? Perhaps by boat? His head swimming as he was pushed out of a car, left by the side of a road.

Finally, walking alone in the mountains, wanting nothing more than death and oblivion.

****************

Denise snapped awake. She could piece together enough from the dream to have some idea of what had happened. He'd obviously been wandering long enough for the bruises to heal, but also long enough for his body to have nearly worn out. She shuddered as she realized how close his captors had come to having their way.

She rolled over to look at Caine. He was moaning, still caught in the throes of his dream. She reached out to him just as he jolted awake with a scream. "No!"

She grabbed him, held him close to her warm body. He struggled, shaking his head in further denial. Finally, his incoherent mumblings formed themselves into understandable words.

"No. Can not go on. All is lost."

Loud shaking sobs wracked his body, his frenzy nearly throwing him from her arms. Denise held on more tightly, speaking slowly and soothingly, "No, Caine. No. They hurt you. This is what they want. You can't let them win. You can only beat them by *wanting* to live."

He shook his head violently. A surge of sudden strength tossed him from her arms. An arm connected with her head, and the world grayed for a moment. She fought to stay conscious. He needed her. She must not pass out.

With an effort, she stayed alert, dragging herself from the bed. She glanced around in confusion. Caine was gone. Then her head cleared, and she noticed the open door. Ignoring the fact that all she wore was a long flannel nightgown, she sprinted outside. The snow burned her bare feet, but she paid no attention, dashing through the night, looking for Caine.

She yelled his name desperately, but there was no reply. She stopped, whirling in every direction, trying to see where he had gone. Finally, she remembered to look down for tracks. Fresh footprints led southward into the woods. Relieved, she took up the trail.

Before she had gone more than ten paces, Nick appeared at her side. "Good dog. Come with me. We've got to find him."

Nick led the way into the woods, nose close to the ground. The trail was clear enough in the moonlight that she didn't need his nose, but she was glad to have him anyway.

She hurried as fast as she could, but her bare feet slid on the snow, and sometimes she felt as if she were slipping backwards more than she was going forward. In just a few minutes, she stopped being able to feel her feet, but she kept on going, determined to save the life of the man who ran in front of her.

After about fifteen minutes, she heard howling up ahead. Her spirits rose at the possibility that the pack was nearby. She hurried on, eager to catch sight of them, hoping that somehow they would know of her need and would aid in her search.

Nick whined and slowed his pace, and she knew that the wolves were very close. "You can go back if you want." She waved back in the direction of the cabin. The Husky seemed to consider it for a moment, but then gamely pushed on. "You are a good dog," she said, warmth in her voice. His tail wagged once, and he moved on with more confidence.

A moment later, they burst into a clearing. Denise stopped suddenly at the sight in front of her.

The pack lay in a circle surrounding Caine, who was naked and hunched over on the ground. She could hear his hopeless sobbing even from fifty paces. As she watched, Liz stepped out of the circle and lay down beside the forlorn figure. He reached out a hand, blindly, and pulled her to him. She whined softly and licked his face.

Denise walked over cautiously, Nick close by her side. Two of the wolves parted the circle, allowing her to pass. She moved between the furry bodies, and, to her surprise, Nick joined the circle, lying confidently between the wolves, with no more fear than if he were with other dogs.

Liz looked up as Denise approached. She could never be certain what message was written in those deep brown eyes, but she knew that the female was trying to tell her something. Shaking her head, she could only kneel down beside Caine, wrapping her arms around him.

Eventually, his sobs slowed, and then ceased. Denise began to shiver in the cold air, but she remained beside him until he spoke.

"They wouldn't let me pass."

"Maybe they knew. And didn't want you to die, either."

They sat there in the snow for a few more minutes before Denise said, "Come on, Caine. Let's get back. It's cold out here."

He said nothing, but allowed her to raise him to his feet. The circle of wolves parted to let them pass, and she lead Caine back to the cabin. The pack paced near them all the way back. Nick walked on Caine's other side, using his furry body to support the man when he stumbled.

When they arrived at the clearing, the wolves did not follow. Before entering the cabin, Denise turned briefly to look back at them.

"Thank you."

The wolves vanished into the night. Denise, Caine and Nick entered the cabin.

She immediately hurried Caine into bed and curled up beside him, shivering constantly and not sure she'd ever be able to stop. She was grateful when Caine responded enough to wrap his long body around her.

They said nothing. Both lay entwined until each was warm enough to go back to sleep.

****************

Caine seemed drained but in somewhat better spirits the next morning. He insisted on checking her feet for frostbite. Denise secretly enjoyed the feel of his strong hands massaging her toes.

"They will be fine."

She wiggled her toes in relief. "Good. I was a bit worried about them, but when we got back, I was too cold and tired to do anything about it."

She stroked his face gently. "How about you? Last night was rough on you."

He didn't answer right away, instead getting up to prepare some breakfast. Denise could almost feel him raising his barriers, and she swore to herself.

"I am...fine."

Denise found herself standing, with no memory of actually getting up. "That's bullshit, and you know it. I shared that dream. I know what you went through. I know what you were feeling last night. What you wanted to do!"

He didn't look at her.

She flew across the room at him, grabbed his arm, and turned him to face her. "Don't shut me out! I saved your butt out there, and you're not going to pay me back by withdrawing into yourself until you die!"

For a moment, she didn't think he was actually going to look at her. But then, finally, slowly, he raised his eyes to her face.

"I can not go on. I have lost the love of my son. I have lost Laura. Everything I have ever done has been lost, scattered like leaves in the fall."

Denise winced at his last words, so like those in the dream. "No, Caine! Those are his words, not yours." She took a deep breath, desperately searching for how to reach him. "They broke you, Caine."

He winced, and she thrilled to see that he still had the remnants of his pride.

She continued, clutching his hands in hers, hands that had felt so strong earlier, and were now so limp. "Any man can be broken. There is no shame in that. Drugs, pain, and desperation will shatter the strongest soul. But..." She grabbed his eyes with hers, willing her message to get through. "But, any man can also rebuild his soul. I cannot imagine that the love of any man fathered by you, raised by you, cannot be mended, no matter what words were spoken in anger. As for Laura, you lost her years ago. Long ago you accepted and dealt with that loss. You did not lose her again, because you never had her again. All you had was an illusion cast by...whoever it was who captured you. You cannot lose an illusion."

She paused to catch her breath. The faintest glimmer of life returning to hazel eyes encouraged her to go on. "And as for your deeds being lost, you told me that you had done much good in Chinatown. That you had enjoyed your time there. Well, whomever you helped, any lives that you touched, are still there, still remembering what you did for them. Good deeds can never be lost or taken away. But if you let yourself die, any good you may still have to do will be forever lost."

She let go of his hands. She'd done what she could. The next step was his.

He thought for several minutes. She held her breath, hoping that she'd gotten past his pain, touched some part deep inside him that still wanted to go on. Finally, he spoke. "It was Li Sung."

She shook her head, trying to figure out what he meant. "What was Li Sung?"

"He was the man who...captured me."

Denise could see that he said those words with difficulty, but he had said them, and that gave her hope that he would decide to go on. She nodded. "Okay. Then *who* is Li Sung?"

Caine left the counter to sit at the table. "He is an adversary of mine."

She sat down opposite him. "You must have done something pretty bad for him to want to do that to you."

"That was long ago." He paused before continuing. "He would take great pleasure in a...broken Shaolin."

"Then he didn't want to kill you?" Denise was surprised, though when she thought about it, it was obvious from the dream.

Caine shook his head. "No. Alive and lost would give him more satisfaction than dead."

She thought for a moment, remembering back to the young man waving the gun. "Then the guy who shot you is this Li Sung's son?"

"Yes, though I hadn't known he had a son until Paris." He sat, lost in thought. Denise wanted to know what he was thinking, but she didn't dare ask. Finally, he said, "I will...consider what you have said."

She wanted to know more about Li Sung and his son, but obviously Caine wasn't going to discuss it any longer. At least he hadn't said he still wanted to die. She nodded. "In that case, I'm going to finish the breakfast you started. I'm starving." She thought for a minute. Caine had early expressed a preference for vegetarian fare, and she'd gone along with it. But after all that had happened, she wanted something different.

"I'll be right back. There's something I want from outside."

He didn't seem to have heard, and she left.

She walked to the shed that sat near the cabin. Glancing around, she realized that Nick had gone out soon after they'd gotten up, and he still hadn't returned. She wondered where he'd gotten to, but she wasn't too worried. He'd been known to wander off for the better part of a day before. She opened the door to the shed, revealing the frozen carcasses of two deer. Her mouth began to water at the sight. Vegetables and grains only satisfied her soul for so long. Grabbing a hand axe hanging just inside the door, she began to hack off a haunch.

The first year she'd been on the mountain, she'd laboriously sliced the entire carcass of the first deer she'd killed, but the next year she'd decided to just hang the meat for the winter. It froze solid in less than a day, and she just took what she needed, when she needed it.

As she struggled with a particularly obstinate bit, she heard footsteps behind her, crunching over the snow. She spoke without turning. "Hope venison is okay for breakfast."

When Caine didn't respond, she turned. And froze.

Standing behind her was the man who'd shot Caine. Tommy was holding a gun pointed directly at her heart and smiling unpleasantly. "Sure thing. Venison sounds real good to me. 'Course, I don't think you'll be around too much longer to fix it."

He used the gun to motion her back to the cabin. "Now, if you'll just come along quietly."

She measured the distance between them. Disarming kicks weren't her forte, and she didn't think she'd better chance it. A better time might present itself later, so for now she did as she was bidden.

As they entered the cabin, Caine stepped out from the bathroom. He'd dressed while she'd been outside. Surprise briefly flashed across his face, but his usual impassive expression quickly returned.

"Don't try anything, Caine," the man warned. "If you try anything, I'll shoot her." He chuckled. "Oh, yeah, and don't even bother with that trick you have of heating up my gun." He tapped the butt of the weapon, and Denise noticed that it sounded strange. "Plastic. Nothing to heat up."

Caine bowed slightly, and then his eyes met hers. Gratefully, she noticed life returning to them. She nodded slightly. Yes, she was fine. For now.

Tommy shoved Denise further into the room. "Okay, Caine. Outside. I prefer to have you out in the open. Easier to keep track of you."

Caine didn't move. "You do not have to do this," he said quietly.

"Outside! Now!" The man fairly screamed the words. "Or I will shoot her."

Caine went outside. Tommy and Denise followed at a cautious distance. Once all were out in the open, Tommy motioned Caine out in the middle of the clearing. "Okay, that's good." He kept the gun pointing directly at Denise.

Tommy began to speak. "Three days I hiked down off this miserable mountain, Caine. Three days of being cold and wet. But I didn't care. I'd killed you." He smiled in memory. "I just couldn't trust my father's 'techniques.' I was afraid that you had too much inner strength to just give up and wander, broken for the rest of your life."

He paused, seemingly waiting for a reaction from Caine. When he got none--the Shaolin stood expressionless--Tommy's smile morphed into a frown. "Then I got down to that pitiful excuse for a town at the bottom of this mountain. I was ready to pick up my car and get out of this God-forsaken state. But I was talking to someone in the store, and he mentioned this girl who lived up here. I got to thinking. You're Shaolin. You probably have some 'mystical' way of appearing dead." He shook his head. "What if you weren't really dead, and that girl had helped you? I knew then that I had to come back and make sure." He waved the gun again at Denise.

She couldn't help it. She flinched at the thought of being shot, of dying on her beloved mountain. She hoped that the pack would come and mourn over her body.

Then she saw motion in the trees on the far side of the clearing, and her spirits rose. She worked hard to suppress a smile, not wanting to warn Tommy. He was still looking at Caine, so she was able to make a quick motion with her hand. The shadow moved to circle around the cabin.

Tommy was still speaking. "Good thing I did come back." He shook his head. "I can't let you live any longer, Caine. My father has spoken too often of the plans you've spoiled, of how our family has been tied together for too many generations. He'll be disappointed when he sees that his plans didn't work, but..." He smiled in evil satisfaction as he continued. "...I'm sure he'll come around when he sees I've brought back the head of Kwai Chang Caine. An obstacle finally gotten out of the way." He chuckled. "This time I'll make sure of it." He nodded at Denise. "And I guess I'll have to do her, too, just to be safe."

Caine listened to Tommy's monologue impassively, but his eyes moved slightly, and Denise knew that he was weighing possibilities. She wished she had some way of telling him what she had seen in the woods, but their odd connection didn't seem to work that way.

From where she was standing, she could just see around the corner of the cabin, but Tommy couldn't. Before he finished speaking, Denise saw a flash of black and white fur at the corner of the house. Her eyes flicked to Caine. He nodded slightly; though there was no possible way he could have seen Nick, somehow he knew.

The time was now. Tommy was lifting his gun, moving his aim from Denise to Caine. Denise yelled, "Nick! Attack!"

A black and white streak sped across the snow, aimed directly for Tommy.

Tommy, startled by her shout, hesitated a moment and started to turn back to face her. At that moment, Caine took two quick steps forward and leaped, kicking the gun out of Tommy's hand.

As the gun flew to the ground, Nick hit Tommy, hard, knocking him over.

Denise jumped to get the gun, but somehow Tommy rolled free, also straining for the gun. They both grappled for the weapon, and she thought that Tommy had a better grip. With her other hand, she punched him, but she was off balance, and her blow glanced off his shoulder.

He tried to bring up the gun, but Denise fought him, still off-balance and on the ground. She got her finger inside the trigger guard, and a sharp crack shattered the air. Tommy went still.

Denise sat up, stunned. Tommy's eyes stared at the sky, all the malice gone from those lifeless orbs. She crouched next to the body, all feelings gone, her soul numb. She had never killed another person, never even thought about it. She thought she should feel horror, but instead, all she felt was a quiet satisfaction.

Caine's arms encircled her and lifted her to her feet. He gently turned her and held her close. Some feeling came back to her body, and she was able to raise her head to look at him. Compassion and understanding met her wondering gaze. She looked past him, out onto the forest. Amazingly, she was alive to see it, not dead and lying unseeing, like Tommy.

Motion caught her eyes, and she turned to look. Runner stood at the edge of the clearing. His body stood straight, tail held high. He watched her for a moment before vanishing back into the woods.

A long howl deep in her soul warmed her. Wolf voiced his approval.

She looked back at Caine. She could see that he had also seen Runner. He shrugged. "You acted according to your nature. You protected your pack."

She nodded, satisfied. If Tommy had been a test, she had passed. But she wasn't certain if Caine had passed his yet.

The Shaolin was looking out at the forest. She followed his gaze, enjoying the solidity of nature. Tall trees stood straight, sloughing off their burden of winter snow. They bent under the snows and the howling winds of winter, but they survived. And the mountain endured under her feet, constantly eroded by wind and weather but standing forever.

Caine finally nodded. "I shall go on."

Her heart leaped. Finally, the words she had wanted to hear.

********************

Denise ran his words around in her head. "I shall go on." She enjoyed the feel of his arm around her and the warm sun on their face. She thought she could stay there forever, but reality finally intruded, and she broke the embrace to turn to the body. "What do we do about him?" She paused and eyed Caine nervously. "Umm. If it's all the same to you, I'd just as soon not bring the authorities into this. It could be...awkward."

Caine looked at her directly and finally nodded.

She sighed in relief. His body language said he didn't like it, but apparently he was willing to follow her lead. She glanced around. "If it were later in the spring, we could bury him, but the ground is still frozen solid."

Caine shrugged. "We could leave him in the woods."

Denise nodded in satisfaction. "That will work. Let the forest take care of him."

They carried Tommy far into the woods and left him. Denise didn't feel comfortable, either with the killing or with the disposal, but she knew the sheriff in the town, and she suspected that he would rather not know about what happened on the mountain. Rough, frontier justice was not unknown in this area, and people preferred to keep authority out of it.

They walked back in silence to the cabin. Denise wasn't certain where she stood now with Caine. She doubted that the priest approved of killing, and she didn't know how he would judge her after he'd had some time to think about it. She wasn't certain how she would judge herself, either. It had been an accident. She hadn't planned to kill Tommy; the gun had just gone off in her hand.

Then she heard the wolves howling from up on the mountain. The mournful cry soothed her soul and reminded her anew of the cycle of life and death and nature. She straightened her shoulders. She'd done what she had to do. Tommy had tried to kill them. Tommy was now dead, and they were alive. End of the tale.

When they reached the cabin, Caine stopped her just inside the entrance. "I have not thanked you."

Denise ducked her head. "It was the least I could do. I could hardly have left you out there to die."

He cupped her face, forcing her to look at him. "You saved my body, yes. But you have also tried to heal my soul. For that I cannot thank you enough."

She didn't know what to say, so she said the only thing she could. "You are welcome, Kwai Chang Caine."

He nodded and let her go. She remembered that breakfast had been what had led her outside, but she no longer felt any desire for anything special. She quickly fixed some oatmeal and then felt a sudden need to lose herself in the motions of Tai Chi. Caine ate with her and then settled to meditate.

Grateful for the brief time to herself, Denise practiced. Something seemed to click, and she found that the moves flowed perfectly naturally, as if her body had been designed to make these precise moves in this precise order. Soon, the sweat poured off of her, and she reveled in the flow of chi throughout her body.

Time lost all meaning. Only the motions of her body occupied her thoughts. Peace suffused her, and she felt whole.

She was so in tune to her surroundings that Caine's gentle hand upon her shoulders did not surprise her. He held her gently and moved with her. They adjusted the motions to accommodate two bodies, and Denise felt as if she were in a sort of dance. After a few minutes, Caine stepped around her, and they started a version of Push Hands. Denise vividly remembered how much she had enjoyed performing the symmetrical movements with her instructor, but the experience reached new heights with Caine. Their connection was such that it seemed perfectly natural for them to reach out and gently kiss each other.

Denise felt the heat from that contact suffuse her entire body, and she accepted it, enjoying the soft touch of their hands, still back to back. He twisted his hands to briefly squeeze hers, his gentle strength inciting new feelings in her. Then he pulled her to his chest, and they melted together in a perfect fit.

His lips nibbled hers softly, and she groaned into his mouth. She felt amusement in his hands as they moved from her shoulders to caress her hair, stopping for a brief tweak at her ear. She grinned and disengaged from his mouth to run a quick series of searing kisses down the front of his open-neck silk shirt.

Now it was his turn to moan softly, and he pressed his growing hardness against her thigh. Her eyebrows went up as she remembered studiously ignoring that length when she had undressed him several days earlier. Had she been a cat, she felt certain she would have purred.

He pulled back slightly and quirked a questioning eyebrow at her.

She shook her head. "Just remembering something."

Caine smiled. "Not a certain...dream?"

She blushed. He had known! But she wasn't going to let him score that easily. "No. I was remembering you in a...vulnerable position and me not taking advantage of it at the time."

His smile widened, and he moved his hands lower, to cup her firm buttocks. "I think you will find it preferable when I am...awake."

She chuckled and pulled his head down for another kiss.

Eventually, they made their way to the bed, and clothes found their way to the floor. He still wasn't wearing underwear, and Caine had to stifle her giggle with a heart-stopping kiss.

The experience was everything that her dream had hinted at. His strong, experienced hands moved over her entire body, eliciting the most amazing feelings and sensations. He brought her to climax twice with his hands and mouth, and, just when she didn't think she could stand it any longer, he finally moved to enter her, teasing her with just the tip. She gasped. "No. All of it." She grabbed his back, pushing him deeper inside her, wanting to feel all of him connected to all of her.

They found a rhythm and moved together effortlessly. He bent and took a breast into his mouth. All was as in her dream as she shuddered, wrapping her legs around him, desperate in that moment to be as close to him as possible.

She felt him shudder inside her at the exact moment that heat took her and left her breathless and limp in his arms. She couldn't help it, crying out his name at the exact moment that her climax consumed her.

Afterwards, he gently rolled her on her side, and they lay quietly. She could still feel him in her, and she never wanted the moment to end. She had never felt this close to another person, and she feared that any moment she would awaken and again find it had all been a dream.

He kissed her forehead and said tenderly, "I shall do more than just go on. I shall live."

She looked deep into his eyes and saw peace reflected back at her, a more enduring peace than she had thought possible to see in those hazel depths. As she looked deeper, she also thought she saw the faintest glimmering of another emotion. Love.

That both gladdened and terrified her. She knew that she had loved him since she had first walked in his dreams. Even then, she had felt the connection between them, but she hadn't dared let herself hope that the feeling would be reciprocated. On the other hand, she knew his destiny did not lie on a mountaintop in Montana. If she loved him, did she love him enough to follow him back to the world?

He kissed her again, seemingly following all of her contradictory feelings. "Do not worry now. Sleep. In time, your path will become clear."

As she drifted off in his arms, a stray thought flashed across her sleepy mind. *Does everything he say have to sound like it came from a fortune cookie?*

****************

When they finally awoke, the sun hung low in the sky. Denise stretched, feeling the cool sheets on her toes, enjoying the contrast to the heat she felt rising within her.

They made love again, slowly and lingeringly. She thought she could become accustomed to waking up next to this man. Afterwards, they lay quietly in each other's arms. No words needed to be spoken. Each had bared their soul to the other, and they enjoyed being together, both souls at peace.

Finally, Denise disentangled herself from Caine's arms. "I don't know about you, but I am starving."

"I could do with some nourishment, yes."

She playfully slapped him. "Enough with the wise old Chinese act." She grinned impishly down at him and threw back the sheets. She hoped she looked half as good at that age. "You're man enough under that act."

He reached for her and kissed her soundly. She pulled herself away with difficulty. "I really am hungry."

Caine grinned at her. "So am I." And he glanced pointedly down the length of his body.

Denise followed his gaze, and she laughed loudly. "Yeah, I can see that. But that wasn't what I meant. Even a foolish Western woman can tell the difference between hunger here..." She touched her belly. "...and here." She moved her hand considerably lower. "And it's definitely my stomach that's making its presence known right about now."

Somehow she managed to get some clothes on and some food prepared. Caine even helped her a bit, which was good since each found the flimsiest excuses to touch and caress. By the time dinner was finally ready, Denise realized she'd smiled more in the last hour than in the last year. And it felt good.

Caine nodded in agreement. "Yes. It is good to feel happy."

She shook her head. "You've got to teach me how to do that. You seem like you know what I am thinking almost before I do."

He smiled. "You will learn, in time."

Dinner finished, they spent the rest of the evening together, enjoying each other's company. Denise told him some of her past, amusing stories from her childhood and college days. A bit of her marriage, but she still couldn't speak much about that. Caine told her a bit more of himself, but he too avoided uncomfortable subjects.

Eventually, they moved to the bed, enjoying each other in more physical ways before dropping off to sleep.

Most of the next day, they followed the simple rhythm of previous days. Breakfast, followed by Tai Chi practice. Caine's shoulder was feeling better, enough so that he was able to do more than just explain. It had been a long time since she'd had someone to do the moves with, and, although they did not perform the same dance as the day before, she still found having a partner satisfying.

Late in the afternoon, the huge sun setting on the mountain, guilding all the trees with its orange light, Denise and Caine stood together at the edge of the clearing, arms around each other, watching the evening show.

Denise felt she had to speak some of what had been in her mind all day. "I don't know if I can leave this place."

Caine shifted his position so that he could look at her, eyes glowing in the amber light. "Do you fear the leaving, or the going to?"

Denise glanced at the ground, finding it difficult to meet the truth in those warm eyes. Finally, she spoke. "The going. I've been here so long. Going back would mean facing what I fled here to escape."

"The death of your husband and child." The strong voice held no question.

She nodded. "Yes. In part." She disengaged herself from his solid embrace and paced restlessly. "I never let myself truly grieve for them. I bottled it all up, afraid that if I let it out, I wouldn't be able to stop." She touched a nearby tree, gaining some strength from its solidity. "Now I'm afraid that I held it in too long. I know that I faced some of it a few nights ago, but I fear that was only the surface." She turned back to Caine. The sun had gone down far enough that it was hard to make him out in the sudden twilight. "I've been happy today. I don't want to lose that in the grieving."

He spoke, his strong voice carrying across the growing darkness. "You are strong. You will not lose yourself in your grief." He stepped forward, emerging like a spreading light from the night. "This time, you will not need to be alone."

Denise started to respond, but before any words could come forth, Nick appeared between them. She could feel his tense body pressing against her leg. Dropping to one knee beside him, she quietly asked, "What is it, boy?"

The dog's gaze did not leave the forest, and he growled softly in the back of his throat.

Caine was also surveying the surrounding woods, and he spoke softly. "Someone comes."

Denise stood. "Come on. Back to the cabin."

They turned and started back, but before they could reach the cabin's sturdy safety, a flashlight beam burst from the woods, catching them in its spreading glare. Denise felt Caine stiffen beside her, and Nick crouched, ready to spring.

Suddenly, a young male voice cried out from behind the beam. "Pop? Is it really you?"

*****************

Denise felt Caine sway beside her, and she reached out to steady him. He put an arm around her, and she could feel the gratitude in his touch.

A man, backpack slung easily over one broad shoulder, followed the voice out of the night, and he smiled broadly to see them. Caine didn't react to his presence, and Denise watched as a myriad of emotions passed over the young man's expressive face. Relief mixed with joy, followed by worry and disappointment.

She felt she needed to break the mood. She let go of Caine and stepped forward, hand outstretched. "You must be Peter. I didn't expect you here so soon."

Peter shook her hand, a bemused expression still on his face, his eyes never leaving those of his father. He spoke, forcing gaiety into his voice. "Yeah, well that's the advantage of having an old mercenary for a friend. I got your e-mail the morning after you sent it, and less than half a day after that, I was on a chartered plane and then a helicopter. I told the pilot to put me down a couple of miles from here, and I decided to hike the rest of the way." He rattled some papers. "Good thing I know how to read a map. It still took me quite a bit longer to get here than I'd thought. I'd expected to be here by lunch."

Denise glanced over her shoulder at Caine. His face was like stone. Their connection had shut down as soon as they'd heard Peter's voice, and she could only guess at what he was feeling.

The priest shook his head, and some animation finally entered his body. "Denise? You wrote Peter?"

She realized with some amazement that it was the first time he'd said her name. She forced her mind back to the question. "Yes. I e-mailed him two nights ago."

Peter seemed grateful for a safe conversational topic. "I forgot to ask. How'd you get my addy?"

She chuckled. "Mostly by luck. I did a Yahoo People Search for Peter Caine. I got back five addresses and tried them all, hoping that one of them was you. Fortunately for my nerves, you were the first one to answer. I don't know how many rejections I could have stood."

Peter turned to his father. "She said you were hurt, so I answered her e-mail and waited by my computer until she wrote back with a location. Kermit had some old buddies on stand-by, so we were able to move as soon as she answered." He chuckled. "Kermit's been telling me for years that these computers were the greatest thing. Well, now I believe him."

Denise's heart went out at the look of naked, longing love the young man shot his father. She watched Caine shift uncomfortably under that stare. He took a step backwards. "I must walk. I shall return."

He turned quickly to go. Denise touched Nick and motioned him to follow. The dog did so, catching up and pressing close to the Shaolin, who moved off into the woods with none of the grace she had grown accustomed to. She turned to confront the hurt in the son's eyes and sighed. Was it her destiny to deal with troubled Caines? How many more of them were out there, anyway? She wasn't sure she really wanted to know.

But she kept her feelings to herself and said to Peter, "Come inside. He'll be back."

Peter followed her into the cabin. She motioned him to drop his bulging backpack in a corner, and she hurried to the kitchen to warm him something to eat.

He flopped into a chair at the table and asked, all the hurt he had been repressing outside projected into his voice. "How can you be certain? He's certainly left before and not come back for a long time. Maybe this is another one of those times."

There was still some warm tea in the pot, and she poured a cup for Peter. He took it and drank it absently. She didn't speak again until she placed a plate of hot food in front of him and he started to eat.

"I think he will be back this time." She paused, not certain how to start. She hadn't known the entire story when she'd made her gamble of contacting Peter. Now that she knew more, she wasn't sure how to tell him.

He made it a bit easier on her by giving her a place to start. "Do you know where he's been for the past six months?"

She jumped. "Has it been that long?"

The young man nodded. "Almost to the day."

She shook her head. "He didn't really say how long it had been. I don't know that he was sure himself."

Peter threw down his fork in frustration. "What's happened to him? That's not the man I remember."

"No, he's not. He's changed, and you'll have to get used to it." She took a deep breath and jumped right in. "As I understand it, and you have to understand that I'm not convinced I have the whole story, it all started when he left for Paris in search of Laura..."

She gave him as much as she thought she could. She tried to tone down the torture and abuse his father had endured, but she could see in his eyes that he guessed at the parts she left out. She hesitated before telling him about Tommy, but she finally decided he deserved to know about that. She felt odd telling a cop about her killing of another, but he seemed to understand.

"As I see it, not much else you could have done. He was going to kill both of you. The gun went off..." He shrugged. "Maybe it wasn't legally what he had coming to him, but it was justice of a sort."

She sighed in relief, needing the absolution that his words brought.

When she had finished, he sat for a moment, digesting all he had heard. Finally, he said, "Okay, I think I have a better idea of what happened, but I still don't understand why he reacted like a stone when he saw me."

She could hear the insecurity in his voice and wondered how to convince him that Caine truly loved his son, more, she suspected, than he could love anyone else. That thought left more than a bit of a twinge in her heart, but she pushed it aside to deal with later.

"Peter, he's consumed by guilt for all the times that he left you."

Peter's eyebrows shot up. "He is?"

She let a bit of exasperation creep into her voice. Caine men obviously needed to be hit over the head occasionally. "Of course he is. He feels like he left you when the temple was destroyed." She could see that Peter was about to protest that statement, but she pushed on, not letting him get in a word. "Yes, I know. He thought you were dead, as you thought he was dead, but be honest with yourself. Have you not sometimes felt as if he had abandoned you? As if his Shaolin powers should have somehow told him that you were still alive?"

Peter hung his head. Denise was amused by how transparent his emotions were. She could see exactly what he was feeling by watching his body. "Well, yeah. I guess I have felt that before." Shame tinged his voice.

She shook her head. "It's okay. It's perfectly natural for you to have felt that. But..." She touched him lightly on the arm as she went on. "...he has felt that in you as well, and that has just reinforced his own belief that he somehow should have known. He regrets all those years away from you and all that time you were alone."

"He's said this to you?"

She chuckled. "Umm. Not exactly. Call it feminine intuition."

He snorted, but she didn't feel like adding an explanation of shared dreams into this discussion.

"So, he's feeling bad about leaving you that time. He knows how much he's hurt you the other times he's left you."

Peter nodded. "Yeah, I knew that he felt bad about those, but I never could find the words to tell him that, while I missed him horribly, I understood, usually, why he had to go."

Denise patted his hand. "Those sound like good words to me. Try them."

"You've been hanging out with my father too long. You're starting to sound like him."

Laughing, she said, "Yeah, I'm getting the impression he has that effect on people."

"He does." He smiled for a moment but then frowned again. "Okay, I can see what you're saying, but it still doesn't seem to explain what just happened. I mean, he didn't say a word to me."

She shrugged. "He's still hearing, over and over in his head, your last words before he left."

Peter looked up from the table, confusion written all over his body. "Huh? I don't remember saying anything that bad to him."

"Something like, 'Maybe I didn't need a father, but I sure as hell needed a friend.' Those words are still haunting him."

Peter looked more confused than ever. "I didn't say that to him when he left. In fact, I don't remember ever saying anything like that to..." Sudden realization lit his face. "Oh, my God! I did say that to him, but not as he was leaving for Paris. I said that to him when he was shutting me out before he fought his dark half."

Now it was Denise's turn to be confused. "Fighting his dark half? What the heck does that mean?"

He smiled. "It's not important now. Let's just say that you see a lot of weird stuff when you hang around with my father."

She could accept that. "So you mean to say that you didn't say that to him when he left?"

He shook his head. "No way. I wanted to go with him, sure, but I understood that if he found Mom, he'd want her to himself for a bit." He shook his head. "Poor Pop. Going all that way and finding out that it wasn't her. That must have been one of the roughest things he's ever gone through."

Denise spoke absently, her mind whirling with possibilities. "It was." Suddenly things made sense. "I've got it!"

She had obviously startled him out of some deep thought as well. "Got what?" he asked in bemusement.

"I think I know why your father's so upset." She looked at Peter intently, willing him to understand. "Remember I told you that Li Sung had brainwashed him?"

"Yeah," Peter answered doubtfully. Then his eyes cleared, and Denise thought he saw where she was going.

"Well, maybe Caine talked in his sleep or something, and Li Sung found out about what you'd said. Then it would be a relatively simple matter to convince him that you'd said it later."

Peter was nodding along with her explanation. "It might actually have been easier than that." A flash of distress passed across his face at his next words. "Perhaps what with everything that happened to him, Pop just misremembered. Obviously, Li Sung used guilt as part of the...breaking. Pop could have misdirected that guilt in any number of ways."

Denise agreed with him. "I think you might be right. That's a much simpler explanation, anyway, and probably closer to the truth."

Peter slumped, the brief excitement brought on by discovery leaving him. "Okay, maybe that's how it happened, but what do I do now to get my father back?"

She reached out for his hands. "I think that, too, is simple. Go out and find him. Talk to him. Tell him what really happened. But most of all, tell him that you love him and that you've never stopped loving him. He's convinced that he's lost your love, and I don't think anything else could have hurt him more than that."

The young man sat for a moment, lost in thought. Then he got up, renewed purpose apparent in his stance. "I think you're right." He glanced at her quizzically. "But Lord knows where he is out there. How do you know I can find him?"

She smiled. "A lucky guess. I have a hunch, though, that your connection is strong enough to bring you together."

He nodded in remembrance. "He once told me that I could find him when I really needed to." He shrugged, a gesture eerily like his father's. "It's worked in the past. Guess it'll work now, too."

She motioned to the door. "Go. Bring him back."

Peter walked to the door but stopped briefly. At first Denise thought he was going to leave without turning, but then he did turn. "You want me to bring him back to you, too, don't you?"

She flushed. "Yeah. Bring him back to me, too."

He smiled. "Will do." And then he left.

Denise curled up in front of the fire, truly alone for the first time in days. The solitude that had once beckoned with great promise now just seemed empty.

****************

She must have dozed because she jerked awake to the sound of voices and dog claws clicking on a wooden floor. Before she could open her eyes, a cold, wet nose pushed into her face, and a warm tongue washed it thoroughly.

One of the voices was Caine's, full of a life that made her heart leap in joy. "But you are again a cop? I thought you had left to take my place as priest."

Denise shook herself awake and asked in confusion, "You were a priest, too?"

Across the room, she saw the two men, arms clasped around each other's waists. One of Peter's sleeves had ridden up, and she saw the distinctive brand on his forearm. She was surprised to see it and pleased that the reunion had finally gone well. Peter chuckled. "Yeah, I quit the force when Pop left. Good thing I decided to go back. You never would have been able to contact me, otherwise."

Denise stood up and stretched, stiff from dozing on the floor. She eyed the two men with a budding jealousy that she tried hard to stifle. They looked so natural, holding each other. She longed to have Caine's arms around her, but she didn't want to deny them the closeness that Li Sung's schemes had taken away for so long.

As usual, Caine seemed to know her thoughts. He disentangled himself from his son and came over to take her hand, leading her to the couch. He settled her and sat down beside her, holding her close. Denise flushed again. It seemed too weird to be cuddled up to the father while the son was in the same room, especially since the son was much closer to her age.

Peter shot her a grin but said nothing about his father's choice of companion. Instead, he settled on the floor, back pillowed on Nick, who had curled up in front of the fireplace. The Husky licked the young man's hand once and then closed his eyes to sleep.

Peter continued his story of conversion from priest back to cop. "I enjoyed being a priest for a while, but it just wasn't me. I can never just hang around waiting for people to come to me to solve their problems. I've got to be out there working to make the streets safer for the community."

Caine chuckled and turned to Denise with a twinkle in his hazel eyes. "I suspect that it had more to do with the lack of...action."

Peter protested over Denise's laugh. "Hey, Pop, I never noticed that you lacked for action while you were priest."

They all laughed, and Denise enjoyed being a part of the easy camaraderie. She could get used to this. But that thought brought back anxiety. For her to enjoy it, she would have to go back with them. Was she ready for that?

Everyone grew silent, as if both men felt her angst. No one said anything for several minutes. Caine held her close, and she could feel his eyes shining on her.

Finally, Peter stretched. "Well, I don't know about you guys, but I had a hell of a walk getting here, and I need to get some shut-eye. We can talk more tomorrow."

Denise got up as if she had been shot from the couch. She bustled about, showing Peter where the towels were and helping him get settled. She was acutely aware of the fact that there were three of them, and only one bed. The disparity had not been a problem for the last few nights, but there had been two then, not three. She wasn't sure what to do. She didn't want to give up Caine in her bed, but she could hardly sleep with him, not with Peter no farther than across the room.

*Why oh why?* she moaned to herself as she brushed her teeth. *Why hadn't she separated the bedroom and the living room when she built this place?*

Caine, of course, settled the issue quietly by being in her bed when she came out of the bathroom. Peter was cocooned in a sleeping bag in front of the fire. Nick lay pressed against him. She thought she saw flickering firelight glinting on half-open hazel eyes, eyes that were so much like his father's, but then she blinked and managed to convince herself it had been her imagination.

She looked at the bed. Caine smiled a half-smile and patted her side of the bed. She took a half step toward him, and his smile broadened. She sat down on the bed and whispered, "I can't. Not with him right over there. I'll get down my sleeping bag..."

She couldn't finish because Caine's mouth silenced her with a heart-stopping kiss. He went no farther than that, but it was enough to convince her that spending the night on the floor was no part of her destiny.

****************

Denise awoke late. Caine was up, meditating on the floor. She shrugged, realizing that awakening with him beside her wasn't something she would experience very often. She began to fix breakfast, and Peter awoke just in time to eat. She decided that he wasn't a morning person like his father.

After breakfast, she went out with Nick, wanting to give father and son some more time alone to get caught up.

Nick bounded away through the melting snow, soon lost in the forest. She followed more slowly. The temperature was well above freezing, and the wakening world quickened excitement and discontent within her. She reveled in the new growth emerging on the trees, and yet she also felt sad. She knew that Caine would leave soon, following his son back to where they had come from.

She wanted to go with them, but she didn't know if she could. Not only was she reluctant to rejoin the world, she was afraid to leave nature behind, afraid that her budding abilities would suffocate and die surrounded by cityscapes instead of mountain vastness.

She gasped as wolves suddenly surrounded her. Usually, she had some idea of their approach, but this time they had taken her completely by surprise.

Runner walked up and stood by her, gazing up at her troubled face. She found herself talking to the wolves. "Do you know what I should do? How can I leave all this?"

She motioned to the woods around her. The wolves, of course, said nothing, but Liz stepped forward to stand beside her mate. Denise flopped down onto the wet ground and put her arms around the wolf's neck. As with Caine, the proud alpha female tolerated the embrace. Runner came around to sit beside her, furry side pressed close.

She didn't know how long she sat there, confused thoughts chasing themselves through her head. But as absorbed as she was in her thoughts, the quiet footfalls behind her did not take her by surprise. Runner stood and stepped away from her. Denise turned to see the alpha male gravely greeting Caine.

The Shaolin stood, regarding her. "What troubles you, my love?"

Denise had to close her eyes at his words. "My love." She'd never thought anyone would say those to her again. Her heart thrilled to hear them from this man.

She stood up and looked at him, having no words to put meaning to her feelings.

He came closer and put his arms around her. The wolves backed away and began to play quietly among themselves. Ordinarily, their play would have delighted her, but her feelings were so confused now that she barely noticed their antics.

Caine put her feelings into words for her. "You wish to stay, and you wish to go."

She nodded miserably. "I love this place, but..." Her voice trailed off. She could not yet say those words, so she tried different words. "...but I do not wish to lose you so soon after finding you."

His arms tightened around her. "And what makes you think I will be so easy to lose?"

She pulled away, too upset to let him comfort her. "Because you belong elsewhere, not rotting away on some mountaintop. And Peter is leaving soon. He said so at breakfast. You will go away with him, and then I will be left here. Alone."

His deep voice soothed her. "Not alone." He pointed at the wolves playing in the snow. "You have them."

She shook her head. A week ago that would have been enough. But not now.

He continued, "You are correct. Peter is planning to leave tomorrow."

Sobs threatened to choke her, but Caine shook his head. "However, I do not plan to go with him."

She couldn't believe what she was hearing. "But...he's your son. You haven't seen him in six months. And there must be others who are missing you."

He nodded. "That is all true." He turned from her before speaking again. "I too have been alone for much of my life. And like you, I am ready for a change."

"What about your destiny? You've said that it does not include others."

He shrugged and turned back to her, a slight gleam in his eyes. "I have been mistaken in the past. It could happen again."

She laughed in spite of herself. "Do you suppose?"

He looked back with a solemnity that was quite spoiled by the quirk at the side of his mouth. "I do suppose. And I do know that I am not leaving this place until you are ready to go with me. Peter knows that, and he is content." The quirk changed to a full-fledged smile. "He said something about it being time for me to prove that I am not 'that kind of priest'."

Denise returned the smile briefly before turning away. The wolves were getting ready to leave. Runner looked at her for a long moment before turning away, bushy tale waving behind him. Just before vanishing among the trees, they all stopped and gave voice to a long howl. Denise joined in, and she knew that this was goodbye. The howl finally came to an end, and the wolves left.

She turned back to Caine, who was watching her with an unreadable expression. She smiled at him, even though tears threatened in the corner of her eyes.

"You're right. I am ready to stop being alone." She went to him and kissed him, hard. His arms enfolded her and he caressed her back, which she arched in pleasure.

She broke the kiss and searched his eyes as deeply as he had searched hers. She liked what she saw there. "I'll go with you."

Caine raised an eyebrow. "You are certain you are ready?"

She smiled and nodded. "This place was here for me when my heart was wounded, but now that I am whole, there is no place here for me."

She gazed on her mountain one last time, drinking in its majestic beauty. "Now, my place is with you, with the man that I love."

His smile dwarfed the most impressive sunset her mountain could have produced, and they walked back to the cabin for the last time.

THE END