Whetting the appetites

Spring being not all that far away (I am told page proofs for the story are due later this month), I am minded to post a very small bit of the upcoming anthology story. (Who, me, tease? Wouldn't think of it....)

From "Dances With Coyotes", forthcoming in
Fantastic Companions, Julie Czerneda, ed.
Fitzhenry & Whiteside, Spring 2005

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“This was a gathering place even before the white man came,” Aaron said quietly, leaning lightly against the little wall. “The river people called it Wah-gwin-gwin--place of rushing water.”

“It’s--extraordinary.” There should have been a better word, but my senses were too highly wound for me to come up with it. The wave-cooled breeze tickled mischievously below my hemline, which ran from several inches below one knee to several inches above the other--but at the same time, the air between me and Aaron pulsed with magnetic intensity. My subconscious had just time to whisper like calls to like before the attraction drew us together, my lips meeting his as his arms encircled my shoulders, tentatively at first but then with careful firmness.

All too soon, lack of oxygen--and practice--forced us to break the kiss. “I think,” Aaron said in a dazed tone, “that I’ve been very, very lucky.”

“That makes two of us,” I replied, only slightly less muzzily.

“But it is not luck,” said a third voice, rumbling out of the darkness, “if it results from wisdom and good judgment rather than from pure chance.” We both whirled, detaching ourselves from each other’s arms, as a coyote nearly the size of a Volkswagen Beetle trotted noiselessly out of the trees, its tail flicking back and forth while moonlight shimmered against its silver-gray fur.

Aaron was first to recover his wits. “Koyoda Speelyi!”

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Whetting the appetites

Spring being not all that far away (I am told page proofs for the story are due later this month), I am minded to post a very small bit of the upcoming anthology story. (Who, me, tease? Wouldn't think of it....)

From "Dances With Coyotes", forthcoming in
Fantastic Companions, Julie Czerneda, ed.
Fitzhenry & Whiteside, Spring 2005

////

“This was a gathering place even before the white man came,” Aaron said quietly, leaning lightly against the little wall. “The river people called it Wah-gwin-gwin--place of rushing water.”

“It’s--extraordinary.” There should have been a better word, but my senses were too highly wound for me to come up with it. The wave-cooled breeze tickled mischievously below my hemline, which ran from several inches below one knee to several inches above the other--but at the same time, the air between me and Aaron pulsed with magnetic intensity. My subconscious had just time to whisper like calls to like before the attraction drew us together, my lips meeting his as his arms encircled my shoulders, tentatively at first but then with careful firmness.

All too soon, lack of oxygen--and practice--forced us to break the kiss. “I think,” Aaron said in a dazed tone, “that I’ve been very, very lucky.”

“That makes two of us,” I replied, only slightly less muzzily.

“But it is not luck,” said a third voice, rumbling out of the darkness, “if it results from wisdom and good judgment rather than from pure chance.” We both whirled, detaching ourselves from each other’s arms, as a coyote nearly the size of a Volkswagen Beetle trotted noiselessly out of the trees, its tail flicking back and forth while moonlight shimmered against its silver-gray fur.

Aaron was first to recover his wits. “Koyoda Speelyi!”

////