Free Darkover: First Contact by Marion Zimmer Bradley Page B

huge unknown range before turning his back on it. His own undiscovered range, and probably he would never see it again.
    Don’t be too sure, a voice remarked precisely in his mind, but he shrugged it off. He didn’t believe in precognition.
    He sniffed the light flower-scents, half enjoying them, half disturbed by their faintly acrid sweetness. The most noticeable were the tiny orange flowers Camilla had plucked the day before, but there was also a lovely white flower, star-shaped with a golden corolla, and a deep blue bell-like blossom with inner stalks covered with a shimmering gold-colored dust. Camilla bent over, inhaling the spicy fragrance. Rafe thought to warn her, after a moment;
    “Remember Heather and Judy turning green? Serve you right if you do!”
    She looked up, laughing. Her face looked faintly gold from the flower-dust. “If it was going to hurt me it would have already—the air’s full of the scent, or haven’t you noticed? Oh, it’s so beautiful, so beautiful, I feel like a flower myself, I feel as if I could get drunk on flowers—”
    She stood rapt, gazing at the beautiful bell-shaped blossom and seeming to shimmer with the golden dust. Drunk, Rafe thought, drunk on flowers . He let his pack slip from his shoulder and roll away.
    “You are a flower,” he said hoarsely. He seized her and kissed her; she raised her lips to his, shyly at first, then with growing passion. They clung together in the field of waving flowers; she broke free first, and ran toward the stream which flowed down the slope, laughing, bending to toss her hands in the water.
    Rafe thought in astonishment, what has happened to us, but the thought slid lightly over his mind and vanished. Camilla’s slight body seemed to flicker, to go in and out of focus. She stripped off her climbing boots and thick socks, dabbling her feet in the water.
    Rafe bent over her and pulled her down into the long grass.
     
    In the camp on the lower heights, Heather Stuart woke slowly, feeling the hot sun through the orange silk of the tent. Marco Zabal still drowsed in his corner, his blanket drawn over his head; but as she looked at him he began to stir, and smiled at her.
    “So you sleep too, still?”
    “I suppose the others are out in the clearing,” Heather said, stirring. “Judy said she wanted to test some of the nuts on the trees for edible carbohydrates—I notice her test kits aren’t here. How are you feeling, Marco?”
    “Better,” he said, stretching. “I think maybe I get up for a minute today. Something in this air and sun, it does me good.”
    “It’s lovely,” she agreed. She too was conscious of some extra sense of well-being and euphoria in the scented air. It must be the higher oxygen content.
    She stepped into the bright air, stretching like a cat in the sunshine.
    A clear picture came into her mind, bright and intrusive and strangely exciting; Rafe, drawing Camilla into his arms . . . . “That’s lovely,” she said aloud, and breathed deeply, smelling the curious, somehow golden scent which seemed to fill the light warm wind.
    “What’s lovely? You are,” said Ewen, coming around the tent and laughing. “Come on, let’s walk in the forest—”
    “Marco—”
    “Marco’s better. Do you realize that with all these people I’ve hardly spoken to you alone since before the crash?”
    Hand in hand, they ran toward the trees; MacLeod, coming from the edge of the forest, his hands filled with ripe round clear-greenish fruits, held out a handful. His lips were dripping with their juice. “Here. They’re marvelous—”
    Laughing, Heather bit into the round smooth globe. It was bursting with sweet, fragrant juice; she ate it all, greedily, and reached for another. Ewen tried to pull it away.
    “Heather, you’re mad, they haven’t even been tested yet—”
    “I tested them,” MacLeod laughed, “I ate half a dozen for breakfast and I feel wonderful! Say I’m psychic, if you like. They won’t hurt you and