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ery touch of its light on his skin. |
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Count your blessings, he thought as the fur began to sprout, at least she isn't wearing spurs. |
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He moved through the night like a phantom. He was aware of, but not slowed by, Kyna's weight on his back while his feetas quick and silent as the desert windflew over the sand as if they were strapped to rocket pods. Kyna had placed the motel blanket across his back and sat astride his shoulders, hanging on with fingers and knees and wearing a feral grin. They took the right fork of the river, the one that went away from the rattlesnake shelf, and followed the shallows up Bear Canyon toward Thimble Peak. To Kyna, the trip was little more than a blur of shadows and low-hanging branches, of wind in her hair and spray in her face. To Cyrus it was pure joy. Each sound was a symphony, every smell a bouquet. Every inch of ground, every tree, every rock stood out in basrelief as his eyes pulled in and enhanced each stray moonbeam. |
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Up the steep sides of the canyon they went, forgoing the well-traveled hiking trails in favor of brush-choked creek beds and game paths. Jackrabbits and lizards bolted as they raced past. Horned owls took flight at the sight of the nude Dianagoddess of the huntriding on the back of the great hairy wolf. |
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Cyrus reached the summit of Thimble Peak a little before midnight and stopped to rest on a ledge that looked down the sharp vee of the canyon. Kyna climbed down and tiptoed gingerly around jagged rocks and piles of deer droppings. |
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Cyrus sat on his haunches and let his tongue loll. He wasn't tired in the least. The wolf skin he slipped into now as easily as he donned a pair of designer jeans seemed to draw energy from the very air. |
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"That was incredible," Kyna said, stroking his muzzle. |
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He answered by licking her face. She grabbed the scruff of his cheeks and rubbed her small, upturned nose against his |
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