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The morning was yet young when she passed beyond the shadow of the cave and entered the Northern Forest, the chill of the season already touching the air. She carried upon her arm the gathering basket Scar had woven from willow-like shoots, bark fiber, and tough forest reeds, its workmanship plain but strong, suited to the hands of those who lived by the forest rather than by the markets of the c…
The three moons of Gor hung above the forest that night, pale and watchful through the breaks in the canopy, their light silvering the tops of the ancient trees and laying long shadows across the ground before the cave. Outside the mouth of the cavern, a smaller fire burned low beneath the crude iron pot, its heat slowly rendering the animal fat she had collected for tallow candles. The scent of…
Melete woke before the first bird dared break the silence. Scar still slept beside her, his great corded body sprawled across the furs, one arm thrown heavily over her waist. She lay still for several ehns, watching the slow rise and fall of his chest, listening to the deep, steady sound of his breathing. Then, carefully, she slipped from beneath his arm. She dressed without a sound, pulling her…
The rain-damp moss of the northern canopy was cool beneath Melete’s bare soles. High above the forest floor, she crouched on a massive, overhanging needle-tree branch, completely motionless. Her long dark hair was braided tight with twigs, leaves and strips of dried tabuk sinew to keep it from catching on the bark and hide its scent, though a few stray strands escaped and framed her face. Her tan…
There is something wrong with the way Scar and I fight. Perhaps wrong is not the word. Perhaps dangerous is closer. When we clash, there is never anything gentle about it. We come together like flint against steel, all teeth and fury and pride. I have tasted blood from split lips and felt the sting of his grip around my wrists and throat when he finally manages to put me beneath him. I have cl…
I should hate him. I have told myself that since the moment I woke and realized the truth of what had happened between us. I should be sharpening a blade, planning an escape, imagining all the ways I might make Scar regret ever putting his hands upon me. That is what the woman I have always been would do. A Panther does not yield. A Panther does not belong to a man. A Panther does not lie awake i…