I lean down to feed more sticks into the fire, keeping the heat high as the rich aromas of rabbit stew with wild onions, mushrooms and foraged greens fill our small cabin. Mouth watering. As the wind whistles under the eaves, I walk to the open doorway looking for him.

It’s a precious time with everyone gone momentarily, on business, hunting, visiting with neighbours, so, it’s just Jamie and me.

And there he is; the late afternoon sun casts a red gold glow on the sycamore trees, the leaves shifting and shimmering with the small breeze and, as I stand watching him, he turns towards me, his body outlined in gold as the sun sinks behind him, as the air cools, as he stretches and shifts the long muscled lines of his body.

I’m already wet with wanting……wanting him.

He sees it in my eyes, my smile, and leaving the plank of timber he’s been sawing, he carries tools back to the verandah’s sheltered shelves, puts them tidily away as I move towards him.

I can smell his sweat, the sharp scent of our earlier sex……

He gathers me in against him as I reach up to kiss his mouth, take his lower lip between my teeth, then, murmuring against his neck, “Come, food is ready, you must be starving.”
He laughs softly, “Aye, I am, but not for food, not just now, anyway “, and reaching down, he lifts my skirts, one big hand cupped around my waist, the other finds it’s way to the cleft between my legs.”

I cleave to him as he makes that small, soft moan deep in his throat. “Christ, ye’re already so wet”, and pulling me against him, he kisses me deeply, as I feel the laughter rising up in him, feel him hard against me.

“Eat later”, he says, and taking me by the hand, pulls me towards our fur covered bed. I can feel the heat of him.

My phone alarm rings, the harsh jolt of reality breaking through this beautiful dream, and yet, I can still hear the echo of his voice,
smell the strong male smell of him.
My face is wet with tears.
Was it really ONLY a dream???


As light begins to fade

She gathers up her tools, regretfully

Birds softly twitter to each other

In the far off trees

The evening dim is falling

She hears vixens calling

To their cubs nearby

A wild, lonely, piercing cry

And feels the urgent pull inside herself

For him

Apron stuffed with fragrant herbs

Aromatics, medicinal, perfumed

Hands full, back tired from bending

She stands up, easing stiffness


Suddenly needing comfort

The warmth of him


The long days work is done

There’ll be more tomorrow

His body aches from chopping wood

He still feels the axe blade’s rhythmic swing

All the way from thigh muscles

Hips, shoulders

Through to his hands

Clenching and unclenching them

The song of steel on wood

Still ringing in his ears

So that he doesn’t hear her coming

Until she stands before him

Lays down her basket

Moves quietly behind him

Lays hands upon his shoulders

Strong fingers work their way

Deep into hard flesh

She feels him yield

Let all tiredness fall from him

Pain and aching bones

Cramped muscles

Easing, loosening

Letting go


And now as darkness closes round them

The smell of her surrounds him

Fresh, sharp, pungent, clean

The gatherings of her calling

White Lady, She

Yet now her call is silent

As she leans in towards him

As she breathes pinesap, sweat and whisky

The deep male smell of him

Irresistible, intoxicating

He gathers her to him then

Takes her small hand in his

All tiredness gone from both of them

Revived, there is nothing now but hunger

Desire, one for the other


One flesh

Beloved husband

Cherished wife

Like the auld story of the Greylag Geese

Mated for life.