The sun gave up its feeble fight, the storm and the late hour completely obliterating its paltry light. The sky darkened still further, and the clouds grew heavier. The wind began to strengthen, driving the rain so that it pelted the ground hard enough to bruise leaves and vegetation. A low moan rose, echoed through grotesquely swaying branches.
The wind raced northward, howled down a canyon, rushed through the darkened forest, and climbed higher into the steep mountains to find a cabin dark and silent. Inside, away from the sheets of silvery rain and the monstrous wind, two bodies lay motionless, entwined on the bed.
Caitlin was curled up, small and slight, her wine-red hair spilled across the pillow like blood. Zendedari's much larger frame was curved protectively around her. His arm was firmly locked around her waist, holding her to him. His heart began a rhythm, a strong, steady sound in the silence. He drew air into his lungs to inflate them, to resume their normal function.
