Nightmare journey

would be out of sight of anyone lurking in the higher hills, and they bathed in the cool, vital creek that lay a hundred and fifty meters below the ancient roadway. Tedesco, Chaney and Kiera went down the stone path first, soon out of sight, leaving Jask and Melopina to stand watch. It was an uneventful watch; they were not approached by any strangers, villainous or otherwise, and they did not approach each other.
    Tedesco and the wolf-people were gone nearly an hour. When they returned, their pelts glistened, bright and healthy and clean. They were laughing as they took over the watch and sent Jask and Melopina away.
    The path down the embankment from the grove had been laid centuries ago, by hand. The stones were so closely fitted that no mortar had been necessary, and the years had done only moderate damage to their patterns. At the bottom of the stairs they came out on a paved ledge, which, at its water end, was stepped to feed into the creek. A few hundred meters up the creek a dam forced the water to back up to a depth of three or four meters, creating a pleasant enough swimming pool.
    There was so little communication between him and Melopina that, as he undressed, Jask felt no actual embarrassment in being nude before her. It was really almost as if she were not even there. He had made a sort of breechcloth from fragments of his tattered jumpsuit, which was all that he was wearing in that summer heat; he was nude and in the water in short order.
    He was treading water in the middle of the pool, looking around to see what had become of the girl, when she suddenly surfaced like a fish, rose part way out of the water, then sliced back into it, diving deep, leaving only a bubbly froth in her wake. When she came up again, she swam on the surface to the small dam, rolled onto her back and returned, smoothly, making very little noise.
    “You're a very good swimmer!” he called to her.
    Thank you. I sometimes feel my ancestors were born to water and that I should have a set of gills.
    She dived.
    She rose in a bright splash.
    She cartwheeled through the water, swimming first on her stomach, then on her side, her back, her other side, finally returning to her stomach again, going through this routine again and again so that she seemed like the screw of an invisible ship.
    “Beautiful!” he called, delighted with her sporting.
    She dived.
    When she came up, it was in front of him, showering him with water.
    Her neck membranes repelled the water and flowed, still, like air- blown silk, a startling contrast to her soaked black hair, which hung straight from her head.
    “That was bad manners,” he said, splashing her with his hands.
    She laughed, turned and swam off, forcing him to give chase, letting him catch her, then flipping water in his face and whirling out of reach.
    Once, by pretending to give up and then launching after her with even greater fervor, he caught her in his arms and tried to draw her toward him. His hands slid over heavy breasts, along slick skin, then lost her.
    “Over here!” she shouted.
    He turned and saw her at the other side of the pool.
    “Slippery eel!” he called.
    He went after her.
    She dived out of sight.
    A moment later she grabbed his feet and pulled him under, let him go when he began to fight back.
    He surfaced, spluttering, listening to her delighted laughter.
    “You'll pay, “he said.
    This time he caught her more easily, drew her in until her hard nipples poked against his chest and her pelvis was glued to his, their legs brushing provocatively beneath the crystal water. Without realizing that he had intended to do this all along, he bent and kissed her, licked her lips and accepted her tongue in return.
    Her arms went around him.
    He nuzzled her neck membranes, smelled the tangy odor of her flesh, aware that she was tainted, that she was daughter to the Ruiner, but not caring in the least, not at that moment.
    “I want you,'' he said. His voice sounded as if it belonged to someone else, throaty and ready to crack. He heard himself say, amazedly, “I think I love you, Mellie.”
    Tell me again, she 'pathed.
    Suddenly all of their brief conversations flashed through his mind. The countless hours, in only six days, in which they had been together became more than hours, stretched until they seemed like years. This time, without any qualifications, he said, “I love you.”
    Her hand strayed between his legs, encircled his erection. She 'pathed, Again, Jask. Tell me again.
    “I love