"One chance, one shot
That's all anybody ever got.".
"Labour of Love", by Frente

5'2. 108 lbs. Chestnut brown hair. Long, reaching to the middle of her back, wavy like a lake at dawn. Eyes nearly matching the colour of her hair - a touch of green in them, barely noticeable until you stared into them. Eyes that always seemed to be hidden by small shadows, making them nearly glow in low light, almost like the eyes of a cat, when light hit them. The scents of patchouli and vanilla, very faint, but there. Always there. Dark green nail polish, short nails, looking almost like green bark at the end of her fingers. Seven rings, each with a different colour stone. Stones, not gems, no gems at all. A platinum bracelet inlaid with obsidian and ivory, tight around her wrist; one piece of ivory was missing.

A tattoo of Celtic knots around her left bicep, entirely black, her pale skin the only colour between the black lines, looking more like a sketch than a tattoo. Muscles defined by a lifetime of use, but having never touched a gym, or a health club; natural, all natural. Small, yet strong. A necklace of hemp, with small beads, from her right to left, red, orange, yellow, green, blue, and violet. Small wooden beads, stained the colours of the rainbow. Between the yellow and the green, a small double headed axe, carved of wood, stained to look like granite, gray with black and white flecks in it.

A simple black blouse, half unbuttoned. Her breasts, firm, small, faultless, not needing a bra to give them any boost, nor definition. Long blue jeans, lovingly patched in the many places that had torn, or worn through. Grass and dirt stains on them that no detergent would ever possibly get out. Leather sandals, like the jeans, mended many times, soles thin from years of walking. Toes like fingers, long and agile, ending in green nails. Two rings circling the big toes; simple steel, nothing else. No rocks, no etchings. Two simple rings.

( Some things you never forget. No matter how much you want to, no matter how hard you try. They stay with you, every waking moment, every sleeping moment, they're with you. There are some things you can't forget - because you need to remember them. Or maybe because they need you to remember them, instead of the other way around...? )

They met in a grocery store, of all places. Joni had stopped in to pick up some snacks, and Yasmin was there. Joni never did find out why she was there; she wasn’t in the check out line, she didn’t have anything in her basket to buy, she just seemed to be there. Wearing her rainbow necklace, circling a labrys. It immediately got Joni’s attention; as much for the labrys, as for the breasts it was nestled between.

Joni must have been staring rather obviously, because Yasmin came up and held out a hand to her, smiling. “Hi there. I’m Yasmin.” she said to Joni, without a trace of fear in her at all. That should have tipped Joni off that something was strange with this woman, but it didn’t occur to Joni until much later.

At the time, it was all Joni could do to reply. “Joni. Joni bre- Marks. Joni Marks.” she said, shaking her head to clear it out. “I’m Joni Marks.”

Yasmin smiled, seemingly quite content to have Joni stare at her breasts. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Joni Marks. You happen to be heading north after you leave here?”

The bluntness of the question shook Joni back into a sense of reality, for a moment. “Yeah. North. You lookin’ for a lift?”

Yasmin nodded, with a smile. “You might say that…”

The two of them left the store together, and without hesitation, Yasmin followed Joni to her motorcycle, got on the back, and they drove off.

( It gnaws at Joni to this day, their meeting. It was as if Yasmin knew that Joni was going to be in that place, at that time, and wanted to meet her. Needed to meet her. As if she knew all about Joni. But if she knew all about Joni… why didn’t she know what was going to happen? Or did she...? )

Yasmin moved into a small cottage just outside a small town in the middle of nowhere, a half day’s walk from where Joni lived. For the next three months, Joni and Yasmin were a couple. On their more romantic nights, chaste lovers. They fell into it so naturally, or maybe it was Yasmin who fell into it, and brought Joni along. Either way, for the first time that Joni could remember, she felt happy, all the time, with someone else. Not once did Yasmin annoy Joni, or do anything that Joni didn’t like. Not once.

The days spent on the bawn, away from Yasmin, were almost torturous for Joni. Her tribe sisters were great, but… she was a little sister to them. Not a lover, a friend, or an equal. To them, Joni was always a child, always to be watched out for. Patted on the head and told to go clean the bawn. They said they understood her, but sometimes, she felt that they had no clue what she was going through.

She never felt that way with Yasmin. She didn’t know how old Yasmin was; she seemed to be a few years older than Joni, maybe mid 20’s, but her body seemed to be younger than that. And Yasmin never answered directly. “Old enough to know better, but young enough to do it anyway.” was a typical reply from Yasmin, and it didn’t matter enough to Joni to press the issue.

And Yasmin always treated her like an equal. She listened with Joni talked, and asked for her opinion. It was a powerful feeling, for Joni. For the first time, she felt like she was being listened to, like her thoughts mattered. Like she was important to someone. Like Joni was an adult.

And constantly being told "You make me so happy, you know that?" by Yasmin was more than enough to lead the youngster around by the nose. As if being treated as an equal, by a beautiful woman, wasn't enough.

The more Joni stayed with Yasmin, the deeper in love she fell with her. Each day she spent on the bawn became agonizing. Each lesson she learned was twice as hard to learn, even the Labrys became secondary to being with Yasmin. That was when the sept finally took notice of the relationship, and stepped in to stepped in to investigate.

( Yasmin knew enough to be out of her cottage the day the sept Philodox came to talk to her. Knew enough that if they knew what she was, they would kill her. Joni didn't tell Yasmin about the visit; Joni didn't know. Still, Yasmin avoided the Philodox, able to see that threat to her life, but how could she be so blinded to the rest? )

Joni was told she could not see Yasmin as much, if at all, after the Philodox came back, and wasn’t able to put the sept’s fears at ease about the cub’s lover. Joni argued, passionately – more passionately than they had ever heard from Joni – against the restriction, but it stood. On nights of the Waxing moon, between the speaking auspice and the action auspice, Joni was not allowed to see Yasmin. During the Waning moon, between the speaking auspice, and the weeping auspice, she had permission to stay with Yasmin.

She took full advantage of that. The beginning of the lunar month was spent with Yasmin, almost all the time, for the first month. The next half was agony, though, and by the second month, Joni was planning on breaking the “curfew” that was imposed by the elders. Especially since Yasmin’s birthday was on the night of the Full moon.

That night, under the cover of going out to wash her clothing, Joni took the form of a wolf and almost sprinted all the way to Yasmin’s cottage, stopping a hundred meters from it just before taking the homid form, getting her breath back, and heading into the cottage with a grin. “Hey Yas? I made it!” And then stopped dead in her tracks, all thought gone, just looking at Yasmin.

It was a sight she would never forget. The cottage was lit only by candles, and with incense (patchouli, always patchouli, it was Yasmin's favourite) burning in the background. Small candles, tea lights, larger candles, so many candles. The light was visible even from outside, through the dark blinds, and with all those candles burning, the house was hot.

So very, very hot. Just standing there, Joni was sweating rivers, staring at Yasmin, who wasn't sweating rivers. Unlike Joni, she wasn't wearing several layers of clothing to hold back the coldness of the early winter. Far from it; leaning up against the doorway to her room, Yasmin was wearing nothing but a small smile. The rest of her jewelry was gone; no necklace, no rings, not even her bracelet. And more unusual, her tattoo was gone as well.

She smiled at Joni, her eyes glowing brightly in the candle light, her skin glistening, the small beads of sweat on her body reflecting in the candle light like kalideoscopes, sending little rainbows onto the walls of the room, just barely noticable in the candle light, and beckoned Joni closer. "Come here, beautiful, and give me my birthday present..."

The last thing Joni remembered seeing of Yasmin was her throat, naked, smooth and beauitful, as Yasmin looked up at Joni, craning her neck at an almost impossible angle to try to look up at the face of the monster that Joni, in her lust, had become, succumbing to the overwhelming Rage inside her, seeing the flash of peace cross her features for a moment, then fear - stark, raw fear, and her last words. "No, not this way..."

Then the world went red.

After a moments hesitation, the two elders grappled with the hysterical cub, who fought back out of instinct, but not for long. She struggled for a moment, until both her arms were grappled, then sagged, and was just held there, an almost continuous stream of blood, bone and flesh filled vomit, until Joni finally collapsed back into homid, unconsious.

( we are born naked, in a torrent of blood, screaming in pain, shock, suprise and fear with our first breath, as we're slowly pushed out the womb, and into the cold, sterile world. Yasmin went backwards; screaming in pain, shock, suprise and fear with her last breath, and was consumed by Joni, as the Thrall of the Wyrm took over. )