• This bold beauty and infinite loneliness
    Of my childhood forest and sky
    That beauty echoes through this journey
    As the morning dawns, night tells it's story
    Bold is beauty and my infinite loneliness
    That's what man longs for his soul
    The grave of my cradle, the place of my grave
    Is the last one in the wilderness

    --Erämaan Viimeinen, Nightwish

    Gypsy shifted her weight, dropping to sit sideways on her legs, one hand pressing on the bed as she watched me. I sat up.

    "What do you mean?"

    "You're the alpha, aren't you?" She smirked, her eyes were mocking. "The one in charge, the leader?" She stood, tilting her head. "Well? Lead. Tell me what to do." I stared as she jumped up, catching her arms on top of the closest leg beam of the H. I remembered how high she could jump--as an animal--a good three or four feet.

    "What do you like?" She flipped backward, lying on her stomach on the arm beam. I forced myself not to stare as her breasts hung over the leg beam. "S? M?" she continued. "Both? Ropes, chains, gags?" She laughed. "Don't look like that."

    "Like what?"

    "Embarassed. Like you haven't thought of sex or violence, killing. Like your mind's so virginal." She jumped down, hip-swinging over and holding up her tags. "Like you haven't had on a pair of these."

    I looked at the floor. I gasped as she lifted me up to my feet. She looked down at me. "I remember looking up at you." I jerked forward as she lifted me again; Gypsy laughed, my arms around her neck. She shifted her arms, propping me up against her hips. I squeaked as we fell onto the bed--she'd turned around and dropped. "Baby." I glowered.

    "I'm not a--"

    "Yes, you are. Barely done with being one. Look at you: you're covered in dust and don't even notice!" I looked down. Dust was all over my clothes. "All over your face, too."

    "What do you expect me to do about it?" I demanded. How can she be all motherly and the...n... She licked my cheek again.

    "Mmm... Just hold still."


    I blinked, my eyes adjusting to the di glow of the single candle at the bedside and the moonglow flowing in from the window slit. Gypsy let out a low groan as she stretched. I scooted closer.

    "You know," she muttered, "Dogs don't like to be cuddled." She rolled so her back was to me. I sighed, moving to lie on my right side. She turned back around, locking me in her arms. "Unless they do it themselves."