Lost Creek Hollow carrie (1976)

The dark woman was just as frightening as she had been before.

Crowfeather did not wither in the same way, though. The tripod felt stronger in knowing that Germanicus was near, knowing that the man could appear at their hollow and step into the shadows of Riverclan, into the arms of the inky man who loved him. There was a raw power in such love. He felt like he had wandered through the barren lands for months before finding water – parched by his aching heart.

You never told me your name, Crowfeather said to the woman.

The honey-eyed shadow drew nearer to her. The scents she carried on her pelt were wild and foreign. Where had the dark stranger ventured since their last visit?