The White Doe

As the years passed, White Doe became a fixture in all the hunting parties and war parties and whenever the Walkers were sighted, she would destroy them. Despite her age, she was soon a high-ranking wereowance, included in all councils and consulted in all things.

Some muttered against her, jealous of her ability and rank. But most loved her and chief among those was the son of He Who Flies Out, the handsome, fiery-eyed Seal of the Ocean. Yet he did not speak. Who was he to claim White Doe, the Slayer? Surely she would be the mate of another, more powerful man and not of a youth.

Yet he watched her, with an aching, hungry look on his fine features that spoke much louder than any words.

.

Ceremonial Fox was engrossed in blessing his latest batch of gathered herbs when he heard White Doe calling.

Since her first battle against the Walkers, she was almost his equal and had no qualms about lifting the door and peeking in.

"Oh, I am sorry. I will return later, when I won't disturb you."

"No, come in. These can wait. What is it, White Doe?" He had a sudden image of her four years ago at Dasemunkepeuc, when she had put on such a brave face to cover her understandable terror at facing Walkers.

But she was a girl no longer. She had proved it with that first battle.

Ceremonial Fox let his eyes roam over White Doe and saw not the happy, pretty child she had been, but the striking woman she had become. Her legs were long and lean as she crossed them to sit in from of him, her body taut and strong from fighting. Her breasts, uncovered in the manner of Croatan dress, were full and soft and would fit just so into the cup of his hands. Her pale hair was long and although she bound it, unruly, wild tendrils escaped, as if they, like the woman the adorned, could not be tamed. Even the scar on her forehead seemed beautiful to him, a symbol of her uniqueness. A white doe she was, pale and exquisite, with eyes like that, like the sea, could drown a man...

"I'm sorry, I did not hear," He said, realizing she had spoken.

White Doe smiled and her cheeks flamed red. "A love potion." She repeated. "There is... Someone I would have notice me."

Did he dare hope? Why else would she speak so boldly to him?

Ceremonial Fox leaned forward. Unable to help himself, he reached and pulled loose a lock of that amazing, corn silk hair. "You do not need a love potion to attract him." He said, his voice husky with desire.

She brightened and his heart soared. "You are certain?"

"Oh, yes," Ceremonial Fox said. "I am certain."

"It is only... I believes he thinks of me as a sister... I will go to Seal of the Ocean right now! Thank you!"

She scrambled to her feet, all graceless fawn in her excited movements and hasted out.

Ceremonial Fox stared after her. Pain such as he had never known seared through him. Foolish, foolish man! You are thirty years her elder! She wants young, hot blood like her own, not your wrinkled old man's touch...

He could not bear it. Could not bear to see her face light up when she looked at Seal of the Ocean, see the young man's intent gaze, watch them touch and kiss, see them wed, bless their children. He could not.

If Ceremonial Fox could not have White Doe, then no one could.