I am awakened by the baying of hounds, and fear freezes my limbs. The hunt is up. I gasp out a sob and push myself to my feet. I run without direction and without thought, my mind numbed by fear. I can smell the mosses crushed by my feet, and hear the drum of my feet, of my heart. And the baying of the hounds. The forest is deep and black and cold. The branches whip my arms, my legs, my naked breasts. And the fire that burns in my lungs is joined by one in my loins. I come to a stream: the cold water sends chills, but they are quickly dispelled by my heat. And soon I am running with no thought or goal. My limbs feel light and the caressing wind hardens my nipples. And the fire in my loins grows.

I come to a clearing. The bright stars stand out from the sky; like millions of blades, they cut me down. I stumble to my knees unsure of purpose, afraid. The light confuses and illusions are broken, reformed. I see her face, her breasts, her loins. I long for her softness, her warmth, the voluptuous curves of her body, her strength, her kindness, her love. Why am I running? But then I hear the baying, and once more I start like a hart and plunge into the forest.

Ignoring the path, I push through the dense leaves and suffer the stinging cuts. My eyes are burning with sweat or with tears, and I am blinded. I crash into a tree winded and stunned. The rough bark breaks my skin, and I sob in pain. But I push myself harder against the trunk crying out my frustration, trying to still my need. And the rhythm of the hunter's name invades my hips, my loins. My breath comes in gasps, in sobs as I strain against the rough surface. My breasts are tender, and I crush them against the roughness. I open my legs and grind my mons against the hardness. I moan with pain and pleasure as the fire inside me raises. But the baying of the hounds drags me from my needs and sets my feet running.

I am exhausted as I strain up the hill. My muscles cramp in my legs. My heart is pounding, filling my mind, my soul with the rhythm of her name. And I stumble and fall at the summit. At her feet.

"Why are you running beloved?"

I stare at the huntress in her power and beauty. Her words are like arrows piercing my flesh; her eyes like shafts pinning my soul, exposing my hunger, my need. The smell of her, the softness of her breath; her smoothness of her flesh, her hair, her breasts. My hands reach for her of their own volition, and I tremble waiting for her touch. But the baying of the hounds fills me with fear, and I turn away running from my passion, my lust.

The moon is raising and brakes through the trees. The huntress has come to her full power. I long to surrender, submit to her strength, but the baying keeps sounding in my ears. Afraid of my passion, I hide in the dark. Afraid of the moonlight and the madness of lust, I close my eyes and listen to the baying of hounds. "Sin" they cry, "damnation and shame".

And I cringe with humiliation at the rawness of my need, at the unnatural women that I am. I want her. I ache for her. I love her. "Sin" they cry, "damnation and shame". A life-long litany of condemnation and pain.

"Repent" they cry "give up your madness". The words of my father, my mother, my priest.

And I sob for forgiveness, for love and acceptance. And the hounds tear my flesh with their teeth and devour my soul.

I am empty, nothing, worthless, alone. I curl my bleeding body around the ache of my loss and mourn who I am and who I cannot be. "Love me please", I cry to my past. And the baying is filled with derision and scorn. "Accept me please", and the guilt of my sins is laid bare before me. "Forgive me please" And the silence mocks me. I am who I am, and for that there is no cure, no relief. I sleep.

I am awakened by the weight of the moonlight on my lids, the touch of her hands on my cheek, my hair, and tenderness fills my heart. The hunt has ended. I gasp out in pleasure as she touches my breasts, my flank. I reach for her without expectations and without thought, my mind fired by love. I can smell her sweat, her essence and hear the pounding of our hearts. And in the distance is the baying of hounds.

Her embrace is warm, tender, and soft. Her nails score my arms, my legs, my naked breasts. And fire burns in my loins. Her hand comes to my bush and strokes wetness from inside. And soon, I am lost in the sensations of my body and hers. My limbs feel light and her caresses harden my nipples. And the fire in my loins grows.

The moon limes her body. Her flesh glows. I stroke her arms, her neck, her hair from her face. And we kiss. I look at her face, her eyes, her mouth sure of purpose and unafraid. The light clarifies and illusions are dispelled, reality reformed. I touch the voluptuous curves of her body; take her breasts in my hands. Her weight on me comforts, her breath on my neck excites. Why was I running? I hear the distant baying, and bury my face against her neck.

Stilling my sobs, she pushes my hair from my face and brushes the tears from my face with her lips. She kisses my eyelids, my nose, my lips. I crush her to me breathless and stunned. She laughs at my eagerness, and pulls away. I wait beneath her for her to lead. Her prey, willingly I surrender, submit. She brushes her lips across my breasts, my nipples, teasing my bruises, licking my cuts sending bolts of pleasure and pain to my loins. I groan her name; my breath comes in gasps as I strain against her.

"Slowly", she whispers, "gently beloved" and she teases my nipples with her lips, her tongue, her teeth. I open my legs and welcome her softness to my belly and groin and moan with pleasure as the fire within me raises. But the baying of hounds chills my pleasure, my need.

Desolate I call her name. My fingers clutch in her hair. My heart is pounding filling my mind, my soul with despair. And I lay back in anguish and defeat.

"Why are you running beloved?"

I stare at the huntress in her power and beauty. Her words are like balm soothing my flesh; her eyes caress me exposing my want and my need. The smell of her, the softness of her breath; her smooth flesh, her hair, her breasts. My hands reach for her of their own volition, and I tremble waiting for her touch. And her whispers drown out the baying of the hounds and I acknowledge my passion, my lust.

The moon at zenith covers us with a blanket of light. The huntress has come to her full power. I surrender and submit to her strength ignoring the baying that sounds in my ears. Accepting my passion, I revel in the light. Drinking the moonlight and the madness of lust, I open my eyes to the joy of her beauty.

"Beloved" she whispers, "my dear heart, my own".

And I wonder at the rawness of my need, at the unnatural women that I am. I want her. I ache for her. I love her.

"What do you want?", she teases, she asks. A life long promise of acceptance and joy.

"I want you" I answer, accepting her love. And she takes my lips, my body, my soul. Her hands stroke up between my thighs, spreading my legs to welcome her. Her fingers tease my bush as she nibbles around my belly circling the center of lust. I guide her mouth to my breasts, longing to feel her own nipples swell in my mouth at the same time. I explode with pleasure when she bites softly and then harder, and I push up against her. Her hand finds my clit and strokes slowly, so slowly. And I rock my hips in an urgent rhythm.

"Slowly" she says. "Not yet, beloved." And I still to her commands.

She lays her full weight upon me, and takes my mouth, my lips. Her tongue enters, stroking inside me. I run my hands along her back, her thighs, squeezing her buttocks, tracing her crack. She pushes herself up from my chest forcing her full weight against my loins, and I gasp out my pleasure, my want.

"Take me please" I cry out.

"Are you mine?"

"Yes. Always. I love you".

When she enters inside me, it's a shock. Her fingers plunge deeper, and I am afraid. But her tongue comes to my clit, and there is no more thought. Only waves of pleasure as she strokes faster and harder; plunges deeper inside me; fills me with her power, her strength and awakens my own.

I am filled, whole, joined in love. I curl my contented body against hers and rejoice in my new self; in who I am. "I love you" I cry to my future. And she sighs with pleasure and warmth. "I need you", and my strength and power are opened to me. "Stay with me please", and she holds me against her. And the baying is stilled. I am who I am, and for that there is joy and rejoicing. I sleep.