Free Dockalfar by PL Nunn Page B

have been disgusted looks back at the cub when she was at her noisy best.
    Not that Phoebe cared. She had taken a liking to the source of her feeding. She wound about his legs, rubbing against them and though he showed not one trace of emotion, Victoria just knew he found the attention disconcerting. Even though she was a bit jealous at the shared affection, Victoria felt a great deal of satisfaction over Dusk’s discomfort. It was hard to be particularly graceful when a hefty gulun cub wove constantly before one’s feet. He did admirably well, she conceded, in not resorting to violence that she knew very well he was capable of.
    A light flared in the shadow that Dusk did not see. Victoria knew it. A sprite. It flared again and was gone. Victoria felt disappointment. So far away was her dancing and music.
    One moment they walked in shadowy silence and next the air exploded with light and white noise. A thousand tiny forms buzzed between her and Dusk, a wall between them. She could hardly see, so sudden was the transition from dark to light. They pulled at her and urged her to flee with them. She did so, casting one frantic look back at her captor, who was cocooned in a thousand points of light and fighting it madly and she thought, blindly.
    She fled. Into darkness, which was just as abrupt as the light had been. She stumbled and arms considerably larger than those of a sprite caught at her, helping her keep her feet. A murmur of music touched her mind. It awoke the music in her, and she could begin to see the soul brightness of the fairy folk who guided her. Each brightness varied, in tone, in color, in size.
    They were souls, she thought, that she was seeing. Each of their inner sparks.
    Their selves. They were minutely different from the inner lights she had known when they danced, more direct, more forceful in their efforts to free one of their own. They considered her that. She realized it suddenly, as she looked upon the soul sparks. One of their dancers, a singer of some quality. They wanted her back. She wondered if they saw in her, the same spark of light she saw in them.
    In lighter wood, her eyes adjusted and she could see the physical forms again. The soul spark was not so noticeable now. A mere awareness in a corner of her mind. Her eyes were so busy taking in the solid form that the surreal faded away. Without the narcotic of the dance the fairy folk were a tad less esoteric. Just as graceful, even in flight.
    But their features were blunter and more alien.
    A figure darted into the path before them, long limbed and graceful and not at all fairy-like. The fairies hardly stopped, swerving to move around it. Victoria could not quite. The figure stepped before her brazenly, a hand out to halt her.
    Victoria did, wary and out of breath. And found herself looking into a most beautiful set of silver eyes. A heart shaped face framed them, and hair like spun silver swung free, to end at a shapely narrow waist. It was a girl. Most certainly a girl.
    Exotic and tall, and immodestly clad in white leathers. She studied Victoria with insolent, daring eyes. Victoria studied her back.
    The girl had the most amazing ears.
    They were tall and pointed and broke through the silken curtain of her hair.
    Neither one spoke. The fairies milled about in desperation. The notes that played in their thoughts were fraught with panic. One word came out clearly, broadcast from the lot of them.
    “Ciagenii. Ciagenii.”
    The silver-haired girl’s arched brows lifted. She looked about the forest, then back to the mulling fairies.
    “Ciagenii?” Her voice was like water falling over rocks.
    “He’s after me.”
    The silver eyes turned on her. The girl smiled an almost feral smile. “You’ve got a Ciagenii after you and you’re alive?”
    “So it seems.”
    “Who are you?”
    “Victoria. Who are you?”
    The girl smiled again at the lack of hesitation and the question.
    “Come on. If there’s a Ciagenii at prowl, we’d best not