He got to his feet, reaching out to catch her jacket as it slipped from her shoulders.

“This will be the death of you, Avana, and I don’t want that,” he said, helping her put the jacket back on. “Why should I trust them?”

“Because they’ve saved you from death already, Jensen, as once they did for me. And they’ve Called you-the first time they’ve ever asked to meet anyone but me,” she said, her hand touching his cheek.

Memories began to return then, of a fleeting, feather-light, bitterly cold touch on his cheek, of humanoid shapes fluttering in the blizzard, crying out in voices as haunting as those of the whales; of being drawn from the avalanche and clasped firmly in strong arms, while lips as cold as ice touched his, breathing life and health back into a body wracked by pain.

He pulled her close, almost crushing her to him in his need to know what was real. She was his touch-stone, his only anchor on this alien world.

“You’ve remembered,” she whispered, her lips brushing his. “They saved you, healed you, then brought you to the ring at Landing for us to find. Take me to them, Jensen. We’re closer to them than Landing.”

“I’ll take you, but don’t you die on me, Avana!” he said, covering her face in kisses, driving back the memories of the coldness with her warmth. “Promise not to leave me,” he said, reluctantly letting go of her to carry her back to her seat.

She chuckled. “I’ll do my best.” She stiffened suddenly, grasping hold of his arm. “They’re here! Take me to the door and open it!”

He hesitated, scared to the depths of his soul, yet thankful at the same time. Through the windshield, he saw movement, white shapes within the swirling snow, and heard again their plaintive song. Turning, he walked to the door, letting her reach out to open it.

Heart racing, he watched it slide back, fearful of what it would reveal. Nothing waited for them, only the darkness and the snow. It took all his courage to step out of the shuttle and down onto the icy ground.

A sudden downdraft of air and snow swirled into his face, temporarily blinding him. He heard the sound of large wings beating the air, and felt the weight of Avana in his arms lessening.

“No!” he cried out, trying to grasp her tighter, blinking furiously to clear his vision. “She’s mine, not yours! You can’t have her!”

Then she, and the sound of the wings, were gone.

Frantically, he searched the darkness for her. “Avana!”

Suddenly one of them stood not ten feet from him. She was everything Avana had said they were-tall and slim, her long hair and skin as pale as the snow around them, and beautiful in a way that was truly unearthly. The more he stared at her, the more she seemed to elude his senses. Her whole body shimmered and flickered as if she was not quite there. She stepped toward him, cocking her head on one side, gesturing to him. He couldn’t pretend not to understand; the gesture for Come was universal.

“Oh my God, you’re real,” he muttered, backing off until he felt the hull of the shuttle behind him.

Come. This time he heard it inside his head. The mental voice was as unearthly as the song had been. She came closer, her steps slow and measured, her body swaying elegantly. With another shock, he realized she was naked save for a simple short kilt.

He closed his eyes, only opening them when he felt her hands encircle his waist. Vertical slitted eyes of pale gray gazed back at him as she drew him close against her cool body. She might look insubstantial, but she was real.

A shadow fell over them and the sound of the slow beat of wings filled his ears. He felt his feet leaving contact with the ground and clutched her desperately around the waist. He’d barely time to register that she was covered in a soft fur before the cold winter wind was whistling past his face, making his eyes sting. Instinctively he turned his head, finding his face buried, not in fur, but soft, downy feathers.

The wind dropped and all he could hear was the beat of her wings. Risking a glance, by the faint luminesence that seemed to surround her, he saw they were traversing a wide tunnel.

A shot rang out; she faltered, her wing-beats becoming irregular.

“Weis, no!” he yelled, clutching her more tightly as her flight became erratic. “Godamnit! They’re friendly!”

Suddenly the cavern was filled with the sound of many wings and harsh singsong calls. Strong male hands grasped him, ripping him from her embrace, talons jabbing uncomfortably through the hide of his jacket into him. He was flown to the other side, then dropped unceremoniously to the ground.

Scrambling to his feet, he looked up. Overhead, the cavern was a shifting mass of glowing, flickering white shapes, weaving between each other and calling out with harsh, singsong cries of anger.

“He has explosives!’ he yelled. “Avana and I, we came to warn you!”

The calls died down to a sound like the faint buzzing of angry bees.

He took the life of one of us. The voice, its tone harsh even inside his mind, came from behind him. Injured our Envoy, Avana. He must suffer for this. Be grateful you were Called to be her mate.

He spun around, finding himself facing a group of four aliens, one of whom held Avana. He tried to move, to call out to her, but something, or someone, held him motionless.

Once again he felt the downdraft of wings beating on his face as the fallen one was gently laid at the feet of the tallest.

Jensen stared at the body. Now that she was dead, the glowing aura that had suffused her in life was gone, as was the flickering quality. Now he could see her clearly. There were no wings, and the opalescent feathers that covered her whole body were now a dull, lifeless gray. Anger welled up in him for the loss of her life, and Weis’s senseless violence.

She will rest where she fell, as is our way, said the tall one, stepping forward and stretching out his hand over her lifeless form.

The ground began to tremble, gently at first, then more harshly until a fissure formed under her body and slowly she sank into it. With one last rumble, the gap closed over her.

As he watched, Jensen knew how their scouter had vanished.

Held between two males, Weis was brought forward.

Once more the cries rose in pitch, but from Weis, there was no sound. Released, the burly pilot stood there, as unable to move as Jensen.

You took the gift of life from us and used it to harm our Envoy and kill one of us, said the tall one. Our rule is a life for a life. Yours is now forfeit. He gestured to one of those beside him. Tyril.

Beyond shock and fear, Jensen watched as Tyril stepped forward and stood in front of Weis. Wings that were not wings unfurled and gradually, the pearly white glow that surrounded Tyril faded, grew darker until his wings were shot with an angry dark red. Then, reaching out, Tyril touched Weis.

The man seemed to crumple, to fold up on himself and shrink until finally he fell to the ground. Jensen felt a shiver of fear course through him: he had no doubt at all that Weis was dead.

What of the village? Tyril demanded, turning back to his leader, wings furling and unfurling in anger. They broke our agreement, Nephil, kept the Envoy from us!

Yet here she is, and the Man we Called, sent by them with a warning, Nephil replied.

Then let me visit them, remind them not to neglect the agreement!

I will consider it.

No! Leave the village! They did you no harm! he yelled mentally, praying they could hear him.

Nephil swung his head toward him briefly before turning back to look at the one holding Avana. Heal our Envoy.

Jensen watched, helpless, as the one holding Avana bent over her, touching his lips to hers, infusing her with his life force. Gradually, the glow that surrounded him faded, making him appear more solid, until Avana began to stir. Lifting his head, he set Avana down on her feet.