Transformations

It was her turn to be surprised, or even amazed. Whether her intent had been to consume me, or even if she hadn't known her intent, she clearly hadn't been expecting this. She stopped for a moment, and began moving her hips again. I'd had my arms around her, drawing her into my chest, and now she leaned back a little, but I held her tight. She let herself go completely then. She could feel I was determined to hold her, close and safe, as she started to change, always looking deep in my eyes. At first, the transformations were slow, but then they came much faster. And whether she changed into a bear with golden fur, then a crow, then into a wolf, I held her just as tight, determined to wait until she changed into her deepest self. A deer with soft eyes, a horse, a lioness. A great snowy owl, an eagle, a raven, and then...

Then there was just a woman in my arms, a girl from the north country, who had come through. There were winds swirling around us, blowing through us, gathering themselves in a vortex at the center of my body, a condensed hurricane of passionate energy, which began pulsing through me, and was drawn deep into her womb. We both rocked like driftwood in the waves, blown about like the salt spray in the sharp west wind. I could not tell where I stopped, and she began. There were no margins between us, only the waves, the pulsing energy, drawn into me from the forest around us, and flowing into her.

Is it surprising to say that she collapsed onto my chest then, and closed her eyes? Or that I, exhausted, drained, began to feel the life flowing back into me, as the clouds parted, and the sun poured down onto our still forms? Or that the wrens and sparrows, so quiet until now, began to sing again from their perches at the clearing's edge. Looking up, I watched the swallows weaving their patterns above us, and drifted off.

She was gone when I finally awoke, near sunset. I looked for her at the trees edge, but she was not there. A fresh track in the meadow grass told me she'd continued south. I did what I could to follow it, until the darkness closed around me, and I lost all trace of her direction. I slept then, hoping to find her in the morning. But there was nothing for it, and I walked into the frontier town the next day, alone.

I still imagine sometimes that I may find her, or that by telling her story to anyone who'll listen, someone may recognize her, and get word back to me. But how could they? She could blend into any gathering, unrecognized. For all I know she's heard me tell her story some distant night ago in the great halls of the west, or listened to me while I told her story around a campfire in the mountains. Perhaps it's enough to know that she moves among us now, quietly and hidden, but I may meet her at a lonely crossroads tomorrow, halfway through my journey to the next town.