Farinka cantered back to the trees at the top of the hill in the early evening, putting in a few experimental leaps and bucks on the way. It felt good.

She reShaped, dressed, and jogged back the mile or so to the lakeside. Nemeth was waiting for her, lying on his back in the fast-angling rays of the sun. She touched his Awareness with her own, picking up sharp strong overtones of big raptor.

– So where have you been all day? he asked, indolently opening one eye to look at her. Or would it be more correct to ask, what have you been all day?

– At a guess, you've been flying, she answered.

– It seemed the easiest way to get around with the smallest amount of effort, he said, shutting his eyes again. And I needed some distraction, he added, more softly.Are you going to answer, or not?

– I've been with the unicorns.

– And is the grass nice? he asked, amused. You're about as full as you can hold.

– Very, actually. As nice as the lake water. So how were the rabbits?

Nemeth laughed. –I didn't eat, Domina. Buzzards – no matter how big – don't need as much in a day as I'd already had for breakfast. Alone, incidentally. Unicorns take more feeding than buzzards do. Interestingly, I found it very uncomfortable to try and fly at normal buzzard size after eating that breakfast.

– What did you do, wait?

– No, I just got bigger until it felt comfortable without feeling hungry. I also discovered that, for me, bigger felt better anyway. Interesting to discover that one can Shape different parts in different ways; bigger wings in proportion to body size make flying more effortless than ever.

– So you can Shape any part of you any way you want to?

– Apparently so, within reasonable limits. You can adjust anything which wouldn't be incompatible with the overall shape. But buzzard wings on an Elf body would feel radically wrong. Incompatible. Not possible.

Farinka eased her Awareness into his, searching for the memory, and shivering at the altered touch of his mindmusic. It was all suppressed hunter, hawklike, filled with fire and sensitivity and great Power. He lay, Controlledly quiescent, breathing slowly and deeply as she ran the mind-touch through him; caution making him suppress the fizzles that her mind-touch woke in him.

– That was quite a big buzzard, Nemeth, she said after a while.

– Fairly, yes. Come and join us round the camp-fire, even if you're not hungry, he said, moving from lying flat to standing up in one fluid ripple of change.

He rested one arm lightly around her shoulders as they walked back to the camp-fire.

Sherath looked over as they approached.

– You've been Shaping, he said, on Nemeth's wavelength, and with a smile.

– Don't look at me, Farinka's been a unicorn all day, retorted Nemeth on the same tight wavelength with a grin, rippling down to a cross-legged sit and helping himself to a mug of steaming danchic. And how would you know, anyway? he added thoughtfully.

Sherath turned his eyes on her, reading the echoes of that tranquillity. –Nicely done, Domina.

– And Louka and Jevann are not back here yet, said Tarke with a soft smile, also meeting Farinka's eyes.

Farinka echoed the smile with sudden warmth. –They are joined, she said. The unicorns told me.

– If anything's inevitable, that was, said Sherath, grinning. Though other parts of the pattern leave meshaken. Still.

Nemeth searched his Awareness, and was blocked, but gently.

– Not now, whispered Sherath.

***

Farinka ran with the herd for nearly a month, returning to the camp-fire only in the evening, and leaving again at dawn. The herd ranged across the whole valley, a massive circular pit in the ground, perhaps thirty miles across; ringed around on all sides by unscaleable rock walls which were topped with a permanent layer of snow which gleamed pink and amber at sunset.

Nemeth met her each evening at the lakeside.

– If you ever don't find me here, Farinka, come and look for me, he said one evening. Being a buzzard is enthralling, and sometimes it's hard to break the thrall.

– I wouldn't let you lose yourself, she said. I feel the same, being a unicorn. It would be nice to sleep with the herd at night, but Moondust won't let me.

– I don't have anyone to make sure I come back, said Nemeth. It's almost frightening.

– You have me, replied Farinka.

Nemeth slipped his arms easily around her, inhaling deeply of the grass-scent of her hair, steadily Controlled and relaxed. –It's reassuring to know that, he said softly.

She drew back slightly from him, looking into his eyes, which turned from slightly clouded to sharply hawklike in an instant, the hunter in him rousing briefly. He laughed disarmingly, taking her by the hand, his touch warm, gentle and strong against her palm, and strolled with her back to the camp-fire.

She was there when Moonwind foaled, early one morning a fortnight later, having woken before dawn, Compelled to wake fast and alert; was entranced by the foal's first wobbly attempts to stand, its legs uncoordinated and out of proportion, its instinct leading it unerringly to Moonwind's udder; and felt the potent bond that ran swiftly through the mare and the herd – and herself, as part of that herd – as the filly suckled.

After that, she began to stray often from the herd, ducking through the woodland and splashing through small streams, surprising roedeer from time to time, constantly looking for good places to gallop, and fresh clearings to eat in.

Nemeth found her one day two weeks later as she grazed on a meadow close to the massive volcanic cliffs on the far side of the Valley from the lake, wheeling down out of the sky towards her, touching her mind with his Awareness, softly.

– Run with me, Farinka? he whispered, circling close to her, the wind from his wings touching her flank.

She reared, more unicorn than ever, and sprang away at a gallop across the meadow. He soared up on the thermals, keeping pace with her fifty feet overhead; she chased his shadow across the ground, leaping sideways as the shadow suddenly hardened and he sped past her, brushing the tip of her ear with his wing feathers, his laughter running through her mind.

The meadow began to drop down in a slope, which steepened; she galloped down it, frog-hopping and twisting, leaping over boulders, fleet and footsure, skidding to a halt and ripping up streamers of turf with her hooves on the shore of a smaller lake.

Nemeth wheeled overhead.

– Buzzards don't take kindly to swimming, he said. But you would probably enjoy it.

She lifted her head, shaking her mane at him, and plunged into the water, sending up showers of spray. The bed of the lake dropped away sharply from under her hooves, the water closed over her back coldly. She made the sudden discovery that unicorns don't swim quite as strongly as the Sea-Elf which she had integrated within her other self; tried to repattern that ability as she swam, panicking and fighting as her attempt at patterning made her lose concentration and the water closed over her head; and reShaped into her true form, kicking out intrepidly for the far side; and climbed out, shivering, grateful for the warmth of the sunshine on her.

Nemeth's shadow wheeled round abruptly and he brushed close to her, his Awareness alarmed.

– Don't try to reShape in the water again, Farinka, he whispered.

– I was all right, she answered.

– Are you sure?

– No.

– You're shivering.

– I'm cold. Cold inside.

A shudder ran through her, memories of a fear she had not been consciously Aware of moments earlier.

Nemeth rolled again in the air, and brushed against her, spinning round, taking her down to the ground with him, braking his flight finally with the leading edge of one wing across her chest and landing, careful this time to keep the razor-sharp talons away from her.

He rested his open beak across her neck. –Gotcha, he whispered, all buzzard, and reShaped, breathless, hard and hot and trembling above her; his eyes still half-laughing but dark and intense.

He flooded his Awareness suddenly, incisively into her own, not waiting; unsubtle but still sensitive, a thundering inferno of fire and friendship and intense passion, held by the thinnest thread of Control.

– This time, Farinka, he whispered, letting her feel his teeth against her skin, pinning her Awareness with his; holding hard and fast with his mind, hot and heady, and laced with a limitless affection, feeling her resistance vaporising in the searing whirlwind heat within him. His breath was hot on her skin, his hands hypnotically gentle, and trembling; but the grip of his Awareness burning into her mind was all predator.

He took her with him in a mixture of savagery and gentleness, fierce, demanding, sensitive, insistent, and impossible to resist, burning into her like an explosion which threatened to shatter her reason, flooding her mind with his own and drowning all rational thought with a storm of tenderness whose thunder was deafening and whose final lightning blindingly intense; leaving her shaking, dizzy, disoriented.

She opened her eyes, looked into his; the laughter in them a warmth which permeated their sudden almost unexpected softness and compassion.

– Total submission, Domina? he asked, a whisper which shook almost as much as she did. I didn't expect that.

– But you got it, she said, shivering hotly and drained, holding him, still dizzy.

He rolled onto his side, keeping her held hard against him, instantly Aware of the moment when amusement seeped into her mindmusic.

– What? he asked with a smile.

– If ever an Elf could be a rapist, it would be you, she said.

He laughed. –Farinka, dear heart, you were with me all the way.

– I know.

Nemeth shifted fluidly onto his back, his arms still enveloping her, his hands warm and gentle on her back.

– Lie still and let me hold you, he whispered.

***

They reShaped only to cross the Valley at sunset and return to the lake; finding the others already eating by the camp-fire. Nemeth filled two dishes, wordlessly, with a stew which was redolent of fresh herbs and steaming, and handed one to Farinka.

His eyes met Sherath's as he turned, surprising his half-brother with the depth of warmth and content in them.

Sherath searched Nemeth's Awareness, gently, recognising and approving the tenderness and understanding and compassion he found there, all soft deeply resonant undertones beneath the high notes of hunter.

– You have grown, he said.

Nemeth's reply was just a warm smile, with the faintest echoes of –Yes, somewhere within it, humming with massive Power.

He flew early the next morning, seeking Moondust; and alighted on a high branch of a dead tree whose shadow stood out clear on the rocks beneath; calling to him.

The unicorn came, looking up into the tree.

– Come down, he said. It is not easy to talk like this, and I feel your need to talk.

Nemeth spread his wings, dropping easily to the ground, and reShaped as he landed close to the unicorn. Moondust walked to him, and he put his arms round the unicorn's neck, burying his face in the mane. He ran his hand along Moondust's crest, resting it finally against the horn, now fully grown, letting the unbounded Power of Moondust's Awareness tingle through him, allowing himself to be lost for a minute in that light-headedness.

– You are very quiet, this morning, said Moondust gently.

– Yes.

He stood in silence, leaning against Moondust's strength both physically and spiritually, letting the unicorn search his Awareness.

– I can't get right through to her spirit, he said after a while.

– It is the wall in her, said Moondust. The echoes of memory block her way still.

Nemeth took a deep breath.

Moondust blew warmly on his shoulders. –Cherish what you have. It will never be less than it is now, he added.

– I want more, whispered Nemeth. His Awareness rippled with wry internal laughter. Can you blame me?

– There is no shadow of blame, said Moondust. I understand what you are feeling. But the 'more' that you want, no-one can get, at the moment. It is no lack in you that makes it so. Treasure what you have; you will always have that – and it is all that your sire ever had. All that humans ever have; all that Mishaar could have had. What you have is within your hands, hold it and prize it.

"Carpe diem," whispered Nemeth.

– Seize the day, echoed the unicorn. You will have many of them.

– My friend, the wanting shakes my reason, whispered Nemeth, hot tears stinging his eyes.

– I know, replied Moondust, washing the love in his Awareness through Nemeth, feeling its power matched by that which had grown in the tall Elf. They felt the tremor in the ether through the herd-spirit which Moondust shared. She has Shaped. Go. Fly. Be with her.

"Carpe diem," whispered Nemeth again with a shadowed smile, his words almost lost within his Shaping.

***

She came to him again on the meadow beneath the high rim of the crater, and grazed intently, violently; ripping the grasses up, raking the dust with one tempestuous pawing hoof, and shaking her mane at him.

She felt his laughter quivering through her Awareness, and reared, challenging.

– Feisty, he whispered, circling on the thermals.

– Would you have me any other way? she retorted, stamping a forefoot in the dust.

– No, dear heart. I would not have you any other way. The shadows of pain within his Voice softened it; it was no more than a fierce whisper.

She drowned the sudden pain of freezing, burning hunger under a flood of concentration; pulling herself within herself and returning to old memory, centring herself within that unicorn Shape, dragging back the memories and knowing how to calm it. She melted into a slow fluid trot, settling and concentrating that floating power into a twenty-metre circle, which, repeated often enough, became trance-inducing.

For twenty minutes she circled, both ways, refusing to let her consciousness be Aware of anything except the perfect balance, perfect carriage and perfect bend she demanded from herself; and only when she had achieved that allowing the trot to flow into an equally balanced canter, forcing herself initially to drop to walk between each half of the figure-eight and the next, before restarting on the other lead, rebalancing, rebending. Slowly feeling her muscles soften and warm up.

Nemeth circled patiently above her, deep concern colouring his curiosity, drifting without effort on the warm air.

The canter became a leashed power of its own, and she progressed to flying changes in the centre; followed by a reversion to trot and expansion into absolute extension, floating over the ground, hardly touching it, compressing the power back down into the bounce and fire of passage and piaffe; returning again to canter and playing with the flying changes, resolving them into alternating half-passes. She dropped finally back to that original flowing trot, trying to lose herself in the circles; still recognising at the edges of her Awareness the fact that trance did not dissolve or remove that aching, merely hid and disguised it.

That tenuous recognition was what caused the unnoticed tears which drew dark lines in the white hair of her unicorn cheeks, the aching searing into her beyond the edges of consciousness.

– Stop fighting me, Farinka, said Nemeth softly.

– I'm not fighting you, it's me I'm fighting. She wept inside.

The pain washed up to him, shutting his eyes tightly.

– Oh, my dear girl, he whispered, and wheeled down and landed in the centre of that hypnotic circle, reShaping and walking over to interrupt it, catching hold of her muzzle and pulling her gently round, locking one arm around her neck and stroking the hot damp white fur.

– Steady now. Softly; gently, he said.

– I can't find gentle! she cried, every inch of that wild unicorn Shape racked with shaking.

– No. But I can, he whispered, surging his Awareness into her, matching the fire in her mind and surpassing it with wildfire of his own, blazingly intense and white hot; shattering her Awareness with Compulsion and forcing the reShape, anticipating and demanding the total loss of balance, both mental and physical, catching her hard and fast, feeling the sudden panic grip of her hands on his sides.

– It's okay; okay, I'm with you, I've got you, he said, letting his own body take the blow as the ground came up out of nowhere to hit them, and twisting mind and body to drive into her, all fire and lightning, with unwavering intent to burn out her desperation with the relentless all-consuming heat that he allowed to explode through him. He let her come back to him slowly, washing the sympathetic warmth of the laughter in his mindmusic into every corner of her, and kissed her as softly as a leaf falling.

"Now gently," he breathed.

***

The chill of the sun going down woke her, and for a split second she felt alone, before feeling the sudden wash of Moonwind's Awareness over her, and the more distant harmonics of Nemeth.

– He has gone with Moondust, said Moonwind, nuzzling her. They will be back.

Farinka sat up, cold.

– Shape, said Moonwind. You will not feel cold that way.

The unicorn was right. Farinka shook her mane and scratched Moonwind's neck companionably for a few minutes until the insistent butting of Moonwind's foal interrupted her thoughts.

She nuzzled the filly, breathing in its scent with her eyes closed, lipping softly at it; expanding the herd-spirit bond and feeling its babyish response to her as a strong current of warmth within her.

– Baby, she whispered softly, half to herself, half to the foal, and then looked over at Moonwind, her eyes filled with liquid warmth.

Moonwind snorted gently.

The foal folded its legs and sank sleepily to the ground; Farinka stood over it, drifting after a while into three-parts asleep, her muzzle resting on the foal's back, her whole Awareness nowhere but with the foal, blanking out all else in a repetitive almost melodic theme.

Moondust approached almost silently; Nemeth slid from the unicorn's back equally quietly, Farinka's clothes a bundle tied inside his jerkin. He pulled the big mountain bearhide from Moondust's back, and stood silently, looking at the two mares and the sleeping foal, before easing soft chords of his mindmusic into Farinka's Awareness, as gentle as a feather.

She opened her eyes and looked liquidly at him, her lungs and her mind overwhelmingly full of the foal's scent; her eyes filled with an unfocussed softness that almost matched Moonwind's.

– Farinka, said Nemeth gently, walking over and crouching by the foal, you had maybe ten minutes grazing this morning. You would need to graze all night to make up for that, and what you chiefly need to do all night is sleep. I've brought food with me. ReShape now.

She did so, somewhat reluctantly. He handed her clothes to her wordlessly, smiling at the lingering resonances of her unicorn Shape's foal-awareness.

– Come over to the rock wall. There's a small cave there, said Nemeth. He turned and patted Moondust's shoulder, and stroked Moonwind. My thanks, friends, he said softly to them.

Moonwind nudged the foal to wakefulness; it sorted its legs into some semblance of order, stood up, and pranced after Moonwind as the two unicorns trotted away through the long grass.

Nemeth made a fire quickly with flint and steel, starting it with a pile of dry moss pulled from the rockface, and Farinka added twigs to it, feeding it, still sleepy, still resonating with foal-sense. Nemeth heated honeycakes on the point of his belt knife.

– I'm starving, said Farinka after a few minutes, her Awareness sharpening and refocusing.

Nemeth laughed. –I told you so, he said, handing her a honeycake.

– I'm also very tired, she added.

He laughed again, softly, his eyes meeting hers.

– Unsurprising,he whispered. Do you want anything other than water to drink?

– No. I have a craving for water.

– Me, too. You realise it is about time we went back to the caves? he asked softly.

– I thought it must be. You must be itching to get back to your sword.

– It may surprise you, but it has not been particularly on my mind recently, Nemeth replied quietly.

They sat close together, the bearskin draped across their shoulders, and watched the sun sink below the far rim of the Valley.

Nemeth stood, reached a hand down to her.

– The cave is more sheltered for sleeping in, he said.

– It's quite warm out here, really, with clothes and the bearskin.

– But not quite so warm with just the bearskin, suggested Nemeth. I'd prefer the more complete warmth of your skin against mine, he added softly.

There were drifts of last autumn's dried leaves in the cave; Nemeth piled them up against one wall. The light from the remains of the fire flickered in, augmented by the whiter light of a rising almost-full moon.

– It doesn't seem like eight weeks since we went South, said Farinka, looking at the moonlight.

– No, said Nemeth. He spread the bearskin out on the leaves, then came over and slipped his hands under her jerkin, sliding them warmly around her ribs, drawing her very gently close to him, and slipping the jerkin from her shoulders. Come and lie down; you're swaying on your feet.

– I'm not that tired, she said, resting her head against his chest.

He sank his lips down onto her neck, his breath warm against her, and grinned. –That can soon be rectified, he said, and ran the edges of his fingernails gently down her spine. She echoed his action, feeling the quick heat rise in his Awareness and the electric tingle in his skin as he pushed her back to the makeshift bed, his eyes dark with passion again as he looked down into hers.

Soft laughter ran through his Awareness as her memory suddenly ran back into her other Shape and the foal-sense, her Awareness liquefied and became half unicorn again, melting in memory.

– Farinka, he whispered in his laughter, coming down suddenly on top of her and brushing the hair away from her face with infinite tenderness, that particular Choice has to be wholehearted and wholly Elf; halfhearted and half-unicorn is not enough.

– Whole I don't think I could achieve, at the moment. But half....

– I know, he said softly.. All you need is time. He brushed his lips sensitively across her face. You arouse instincts in me of which I was unAware, he added. Strangely, I had not even considered that one until I saw you with that foal.

– Would you mind?

– How could I possibly mind? he asked, moving his lips down to her throat and waking sudden aching need in her, Aware of and instantly responding to every nuance and shading in that need, from gentle to passionate; from sensitive to fierce and finally to a mind-bending need for total submission, which left him filled with both exultant ferocity and affectionate laughter.

***

They returned to the Silver Lake not long after dawn, Nemeth having strapped the bearskin enclosing their clothes to Farinka's unicorn back before Shaping himself and flying alongside her, covering the miles effortlessly and swiftly.

The smell of bacon greeted them, awakening ravenous hunger.

Louka flipped a bacon slice over and looked up at them, running her Awareness curiously through Nemeth.

– Well? he said, grabbing a bread roll and deftly splitting it.

– Just curious, she answered, evaluating the harmonics and recognising that they were not as her own. No? she asked, quietly and for his ears only.

His eyes clouded slightly, briefly. –No, he whispered, stabbing a bacon slice with his belt knife. Very close, but not close enough. Moondust's theory is that the wall is still too near the surface.

He held the slice of bacon, looking blankly at it for a moment until the burning from his fingers seeped into his consciousness, before tucking it into the bread roll.

"I needed this," he said, biting into it and taking a mug of water with the other hand before sitting cross-legged with his customary fluid grace.

They ate in companionable silence, combining and recombining Awareness, subtly, acknowledging harmonics and undertones. Nemeth looked sharply across at Tarke, his expression filled with sudden light, and he grinned.

– Yes, he said, a wash of warmth pouring through him.

– I knew you were the one person who would be Aware, said Tarke, her eyes filled with softness and strength as she met his gaze. He mind-fused with Sherath; a very much more powerful event than joining Awareness.

– I find it impossible to express adequately the extent of my approval, Nemeth whispered with a deeply affectionate smile.

– Mine, too, said Sherath, as softly. Though I found a certain wry humour in not knowing until after the Choice was made.

Nemeth laughed.

Moondust cantered quietly around the edge of the lake to join them, extending his Awareness over and through them all.

– I can return through the Wall at any time, he said to them. I would like to stay for a while longer. I wish to be with Moonwind, she wishes to be here with the foal. Go back without me, come back for me. Hlammaeth is expecting you.