Thick fog swirled around the man, tiny particles of moisture catching the brilliance of the new stars and bathing him in the hero-light of legend. Huge and unconquerable, aglow with an unearthly radiance, he strolled toward her. Wild and primal urges pulsed through Caitlin, reawakening the slumbering believer deep inside her. The stranger seemed more myth than human, the Warrior of the Spring from Tom Gandy’s ancient tales, a champion with the aspect of a pagan god. Still he came on, walking slowly, and still she watched, suspended in a spellbound state woven of whimsy and desire. She thought him beautiful; even his shadowy reflection in the dark tidal pool that separated them was beautiful. He was strong-limbed and cleanly made, his body pale, his hair aflame with the colors of the sunset, his face shapely and his eyes the hue of moss in shadow. Caitlin felt no fear, only the awe and enchantment that flowed like a river of light through her.
