he cried out for her. the rains in the stormlashed night castigated him with their stinging little teeth, but still he clung to his perch, pouring his full-throated cry into the tears of the spring's crashing. murkwater eyes searched the shadows for her, for the darkness to birth the changeling from its ever-shifting womb.
it had never come to pass that he had spoken alone with tonravik; he followed her because she was of siku, nothing more. but her ferocity was unchecked, and the fire seething in her gaze did not quench his thirst, but intensified it. earthen paws gripped the stone of the crag upon which he stood, and lasher called again with wavering passion the would-be witch, she of siku, who sought to firm tartok on this emotionless rock again.
i am yours! i am yours! taltos keened, eyes narrowed against the nip of rain to his eyelids.