Robin Lakehair was running, almost dancing. In the leafy shade of the late day she looked like a dappled fawn. A wild rose was tucked in her red-gold hair which rollicked about her shoulders. Sharn and the she-wolf followed her. Hearing a sound, all three stopped and lifted their heads.
It resounded again, the clang of metal on wood, then stopped.
Robin and the wolves moved down through the trees, then she stopped short, holding her breath.
Beyond the trees at the base of the rise, a huge warrior stood in Smooth Pond splashing water over himself. He was naked except for boots, a loincloth and a horned helmet, and his flesh glistened. He strode out of the water and kneeled facing two birch trees.
Robin, ignoring Sharn’s warning growl, moved so she could get a closer look at the stranger.
He forced the two trunks apart, placed his head through them, then released the trunks so they were wedged under the collar of the helmet. He gathered himself, then thrust savagely against the trees while pulling his head back. His massive arms corded like the necks of young bulls. He pushed and pulled until blood trickled between his fingers and ran down the white bark, then sagged in place.
Robin, holding her lower lip between her teeth, looked around the clearing and gasped quietly. The trunks of half-a-dozen trees were hammered raw by the helmet and gouged by its horns. She looked back at the kneeling stranger.
Three more times the warrior tried to force the helmet off and failed, then, gasping and sweating, he tried to stand. But the helmet did not rise with him, and he dropped to the ground with a painful grunt to hang by the helmet. He wrenched and twisted until he finally righted himself, only to discover his head was gripped even tighter by the trunks.
Gasping, he gathered his body in a low crouch. He took a deep breath then tried to force the trees apart with his arms and lift his head free all at once. For a long moment the two birch trees played with him like he was their pet beast, then suddenly they snapped apart and his helmeted head ripped loose with a woody screech. He staggered backward across the clearing, tripped on a fallen branch, and went reeling forward. His helmet maimed a large blunt rock, but the rock appeared to hardly even know it was in a fight and knocked him flat. He rolled over twice, then lay facedown in a crowd of brown and gold leaves.
Robin whimpered with fear, tiptoed forward, and dropped to her knees beside the man.
His muscles rippled under her fingertips. Suddenly the powerful body rose abruptly on its elbows, driving her aside, and crawled in a zigzag manner toward the cool water. Reaching the pond, his fist closed around the haft of the axe which stood beside it.
Robin gasped. She knew the weapon. Wide-eyed, she crawled back against a tree trunk as the helmet turned toward her. The cruel eyes within its shadows could not be Gath’s. Seeming not to see her, he dropped the axe, crawled halfway into the pond, and dipped the helmet beneath the water.
While the man-animal continued to drink, Robin rose quietly and braced herself against the tree. He lifted his metal head and glanced about as if she weren’t there, then dropped himself in the water, rolling and splashing. When he stood, his dark brown body was steaming.
Robin eased back around the tree, concealing herself, ready to flee. But her feet held and, hardly daring to breathe, she peered from behind the trunk. “Gath.” It was only a whisper, but he turned as if to the sound of music.
She stared in disbelief, openmouthed, then resolutely came back around the tree. Reaching him, she hesitated again, trying to reconcile this intimidating giant with the man she knew. Seemingly incapable of anything else, he only looked at her. She blushed, and slipped her hands around the collar of the helmet saying, “Let me help.”
He took hold of her slim wrists and held them softly for a long moment. She started to speak but he stopped her. His eyes were studying the surrounding forest.
“What do you see?” she asked. “What’s wrong?”
She followed his gaze, saw the wolves beyond the trees high on the rise, and turned back to him. “It’s Sharn, and the she-wolf. Don’t you recognize them? They’re your friends.”
He looked at her and the expression in his eyes made her shudder. It said he had no friends. Robin started to protest, but gave up and smiled helplessly.
Robin’s smile was the most eloquent argument Gath had ever beheld. He gazed at it, forgetting all about finding answers to why he had not sensed her presence and allowed her to get close enough to put a dagger in his back.
Her nut-brown face with its cheeks the color of budding roses was a theater of soft illusions saying something to him. Or was it the helmet playing tricks on his mind? He could not be sure. What he was certain of was that the two little red dancers were only pretending to perform as lips while actually being much, much more. Tiny mountains of color, the tissue of dreams.
“What is it?” she asked again.
He did not answer. He could not. She would not understand, but now he could see the answer to his questions. There was no deceit within her. She was without his greed. Without Cobra’s dark lust. Devoid of evil.
She took her hands back gently. “Please, let me get that helmet off. You need some sleep.”
Instinctively he lifted his hands to the helmet to remove it, then hesitated remembering it was useless. She smiled brightly, placed her hands over his, pushed and it rose easily off his head.