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sleep in.
                  I will be there shortly.
                He knew she was tired and becoming chilled. His reassurance made her smile.
                "Okay," she murmured, and laid down on the simple pallet near the fire.
                She was asleep when he returned to the cave. It wasn't until nature woke her that she discovered him lying beside her, one arm around her waist, his body tucked alongside hers, and a wing covering her like an insulating blanket.
                Carefully, she extracted herself from his embrace and went to use her pan. After a quick drink of water to ease her parched throat, she hurried to return to his warmth. The cave was cold. Although the entrance was buffered on two sides against the wind, this high in the mountains the air was bone numbing at night.
                She started to crawl back underneath his wing when she spotted the new clothing lying in a neat pile next to the pallet. A small amount of light from the double moons allowed her to see well enough inside the cave, but it wasn't enough to tell what color the garments were. Smiling, she bent over and placed a kiss on the great beak.
                "Thank you."
                There was no mental reply, but a flood of contentment washed through her. His happiness became hers, and she easily slipped into sleep.
     

Chapter Five
    The Joy
     
     
                He was waiting for her at the mouth of the cave. Him and his beautiful human form. She did not know his name, or which village he came from. All she knew was that he brought her joy in what he did with her and to her, and she welcomed him with tears and open arms.
                He wore the purest white clothing she'd ever seen. His top and pants almost glowed like a small sun. And when he wrapped his arms around her, he shared his sun's heat with her until there was not an ounce of cold left in her body.
                "You came! You heard me and you came!"
                "I could not stay away from you, Emmala."
                He smiled at her, and for the umpteenth time she tried to visualize his face. A face she could touch with her hands and trace the outline of his eyes and nose and ears. But his face never firmed, never formed. It always remained fogged and indistinct. But she knew when he smiled. And she knew when he gazed upon her with undisguised tenderness.
                His lips were soft, his mouth gentle upon hers. He kissed her hesitantly, almost shyly, as if this was not an action he was accustomed to doing. His hands moved down her back, stopping to cup her buttocks and lightly squeeze them. His hips ground into hers, and she could feel the hardness pressing against her mound. Need, deep and strong, clenched within her lower abdomen.
                Taking his face between her hands, she pulled away slightly and gazed up into his mysterious visage, into what she believed were pale blue, almost crystalline eyes. "Zonaton has left to hunt, but we must hurry. I don't know how soon he'll be back." 
                He answered by lifting her into his arms and striding over to the pallet, where he carefully laid her down. She scrambled out of her clothing as he watched her with obvious hunger.
                "You are so beautiful, Emmala."
                "So are you."
                She spread her legs and touched herself, a silent invitation she knew he was eager to accept. He jerked his own tunic over his head, then jerked his pants down, to kick them free of his boots he never removed.
                Her eyes riveted on the shaft of flesh jutting outward from his body. It blushed pinkly, and she almost laughed.
                "What is funny?"
                "Nothing. Nothing is funny. It's just that seeing you makes me happy."
                "Let me