She glided silently through the giant Oaks, soft buckskin boots protecting her feet from the hard acorns. Quiver slung over her tanned shoulder and bow lightly clutched in one hand she scanned the ground and vegetation for any sign that something had past here before her. A rattle in the bushes ahead caught her attention and she sank down out of sight carefully stringing an arrow to her bow. The pheasant never saw its predator, it just heard a wizzing sound in the air and sank to its death. At the edge of a babbling brook she skinned and cooked the bird quickly, but prefered the sanctuary the high branches offered for her dining pleasure. Belly full, she loosed her buckle, giving in to the soft secrets the grand Oak whispered in her ear. Sleep came easily.

She woke with a start. A great scraping rattle sound, and the tree she lay drowsily in swaied slightly. Was it a storm? No the moon was shining brightly in the ski, ("Hellow Lady") she sighed. Carefully peering down she could see a buck scratching his huge rack of antlers against the trunk. No wonder she had had that odd dream of a rutting buck who stocked her through the woods. She threw the pheasant carcass down taking careful aim to hit him in the head. Even before it left her hand she realized this was no buck at all. The antlers tilted back revealing deep green eyes, high cheek bones, a tanned complexion with a pointy goaty and long stringy dark hair, just as the pheasant bones found their mark. He reared, launching himself back from the tree with his muscular human arms, roaring in anger and shock.

"I am sorry, sir", she apologized. Now that he was no longer in the shadow of her tree, the moon light reflected off his broad chest and wash-board stomach. He stood below, arms bent and slightly forward to counter balance his great rack as he leaned back in an effort to glimpse the sweet voice from above. Snorting he shuck his fist up toward the moon and pawed the ground with a hooved foot. Yes, she could see that now. From the waist down he was definitely all animal.

"Lord", she shouted and scurried down the tree.

Going down on one knee before him she bowed gracefully. He stalked over to her and placed his huge hand on her head. She rose to her feet, the smell of him making her legs tremor and become unsolid. She wanted this man. She had called him to her dreams periodically ever since puberty. Her heart raced, time seemed to stand still. What would he do? Devour her or worse leave her alone? It was his move and he savoured the suspense, watching her tense figure quiver at every touch as he circled her lightly caressing parts of her stiff form. He moved in very close to her neck, sniffing at her soft fragrant hair, she could feel the heat of his breath. Then with one swift move he swept her up into his arms and stocked off into the deep forest.

Three days later a stiff and sore woman emerged from the woods. A grin spanned the width of her tanned, thin face. She walked down the center of her small village, her glow bringing smiles to everyone she passed. A tall wrinkly old man caught her arm and brought her to a hault. Turning to face him she caressed her stomach with her free hand and nodded.

"Yes Old One", she said smiling, "your legacy shall continue".

by: Witch Hazel
November 1999
Publisher: Pagan Voices