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Power Lines by Anne McCaffrey And Elizabeth Ann Scarborough. Chapter 1, 2, 3, 4

One was so disgusted by her ignorance and silly misapprehension of one’s self and one’s relationship to one’s Home that one was startled into answering, I am Coaxtl. That is enough.

“I am Goat-dung, Coaxtl,” the youngling said with the cunning of her race. She knew, one saw, the power of names. She had one’s name, one had hers. She could not be food.

But one’s Home had already decreed that she could not be food, which was what Home meant with the rumbling of the ground and the raising of the waters. One knew what was done and what was not done.

Very well, Goat-dung, one said. Goat-dung is not food, but undoubtedly she eats. Therefore we must leave the Home and hunt

Chapter 3

With the river flowing freely, close to flooding, the people of Kilcoole had more water at their disposal than they were used to. Normally, even in the height of summer, the channel remained frozen at the deeper levels. Now the planet had cut additional channels from new, warmer tributaries, and there was sufficient water to drink, to wash, to bathe in if you didn’t mind a little sediment.

Since so much water was close to hand and the hot springs were a distance from town, Yana and Sean had the place to themselves.

As they rode through the brush, which was beginning to leaf out, Yana smiled at the wildflowers that peeked up from the less sodden places where they’d been buried under the snow all winter.

The hot springs were where she and Sean had first come together, where she had first had an inkling of his other nature, and where they had first made love. Beneath the waterfall was the secret subterranean chamber where the villagers gathered during the latchkay night chants to communicate directly with the planet. The mere sight of the slipping silvery waters, steaming only slightly in the warmer air, and the sweet rippling peal of the falls and streams were miraculous enough for Yana.

In this warmer weather, undressing did not have to be so hastily done. She and Sean took their time—time to undress each other, time for a kiss and a caress—before entering the waters, he with a muscular dive, she with a slow sliding from the bank, feeling the waters rise up the length of her until she stooped and allowed the liquid to cover her head. The water shut out the sounds of the birds and insects, the small animals scrabbling in the bushes, the stamping and champing of the curly-coats, and filled her ears with its own music.

Then a wet, warm silky form twisted about her and broached the surface of the water, silver eyes gleaming at her with a challenge and a sensuousness that were so perfectly “Sean” that even his selkie form did not dismay her.

“Oh you!” she said, laughing and splashing water at him. “Do you automatically change the minute you hit water?”

A pleased murmur came from the throat of Sean-Selkie as he continued to weave against her body, his furry touch arousing unusual sensations in her.

“Oh, is that all you can say?” Then Yana gave a ki-yi of amusement. “You can’t talk as a selkie? She chortled and, using both hands, sent a wave to flood him.

He dove, not to get away from the water, but to caress her where she least expected it. Startled, she tried to maneuver away from him, but his sinuous form made evasion impossible. He was the swimmer, she the paddler.

But she caught him firmly by a fold of silly wet skin and pulled him to the surface.

Look, mate, I don’t mind what form you take. I don’t even mind what you do in that form …” Sean-Selkie made a pleased purring sound, the silver eyes dancing, as she went on: “But listen up! It’s the man I want, not the seal. And we do have things to talk about. So, if you can’t talk in this form … especially if you can’t … well, you know what I mean .. . change back.”

The selkie nudged her, in a rather sweetly apologetic way, toward the falls, and swam sinuously alongside as she began to swim, feeling very ungraceful beside him, in the direction he indicated. He obviously restrained himself to keep pace with her. He was so graceful, so powerful, and the touch of his fine fur against her was unfairly sensual. She increased the speed of her own stroke. She couldn’t wait to get to the privacy of the place behind the falls: she couldn’t wait to get him back into a useful form.

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Categories: McCaffrey, Anne
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