Part 1

Craving solitude after a restless and troubled night, Rowan shut her mind to her brother's call though she knew he would find her eventually. She'd risen at dawn and made her way to the river to bathe, but the sunshine and cool water had done little to ease her mind. She lay on the grassy bank beside the river, Stalker curled by her side, her face buried in Rowan's armpit. "You still love me best, don't you Stalker, even though you have a mate?" she murmured to the little wi1d cat scratching the red-brown fur between Stalker's ears. Stalker's musk was pungent and pleasant to Rowan. She had littered earlier that turn but, now that her kittens were weaned she spent all her time with Rowan as she had done before her first mating.

They both heard the movement in the undergrowth at the edge of the clearing, and Stalker raised her head and sniffed the air. Rowan caught the mind picture of Redthorn and did not bother to rouse herself. Stalker settled back to doze.

Redthorn was beside her suddenly. "Why didn't you answer my call?" he demanded.

"I was asleep."

"Liar."

"I wanted to be alone."

He lay beside her and rested his head on her shoulder and she didn't complain. "There's something wrong," he said. "You've been so remote in the last few days." His slender hand caressed her as she had caressed Stalker. "Tell me," he urged.

"Don't want to." She closed her eyes and the face of Whitefox drifted in front of her. It was the first time in their long lives that either had kept a secret from the other.

"Rowan . . . "

She took a deep breath and the truth rushed out. "I've recognized someone."

Her brother's golden skin went white and an animal moan rose from his throat. "Who?" he demanded. "When?"

"Whitefox, a few weeks ago. I've been fighting it, but I don't have much fight left." Redthorn sat up and buried his face in his hands and she wrapped her arms around him. "I don't want this. I don't like him," she whispered. "I don t want his cubs." She drew him down beside her again. "I want yours," she told him, kissing his face.

"You want the impossible," he said bitterly. "You know we don't breed outside of recognition."

"It's not impossible," she insisted, needing to believe. "It has happened...long ago, it has happened."

His hand cupped her breast and he kissed her softly. "It's better that way, but I can't let you go to him either. I can t share you." Rowan was becoming aroused but she knew that part of her desire was for the hated Whitefox. For the last few days, as she and Redthorn had made love, Whitefox had been with them. She had only to close her eyes to see his face with its smug grin and green cat's eyes.

Redthorn rolled between her legs, shoving Stalker out of the way. The cat growled and repositioned herself with immense dignity and Rowan laughed a little. Redthorn entered her and she met his mind, so like her own, with the old familiar joy. For the moment, at least, she could be wholly his. She chanted his soul name while they coupled, letting him fill her mind as he did her body. They kissed, stroked and sniffed, licked and bit each other and only once during their loving did she think of Whitefox. Afterwards she cried and Redthorn cried with her.

She knew as they lay together on the grassy bank that soon she would lie with Whitefox and very probably conceive by him. Recognition was no respecter of elvish wishes or desires, and though her relationship with Redthorn was long established and accepted by the other members of the holt, it had been for centuries a sterile one. It was not Rowan's wish to become a mother, but if she was to be forced to produce cubs, she wanted to at least care for their father. Whitefox and Rowan had been born to be enemies, had locked horns countless times since first meeting, and cordially hated each other. He was the last of all the elves she knew that she would choose to lie with.

"I'd rather mate with a human!" she exclaimed fervently. There was an awkward moment, then Redthorn began to chuckle. He had coupled with a human many centuries before. She remembered and laughed, too. "It wouldn't help, would It?"

"No."

"Redthorn, Bryn, I have to do this thing...but I don't have to stay with him. Be there for me after."

"Always," he promised her solemnly. He helped her to her feet and retrieved her clothing that lay scattered on the shore. Stalker trotted beside Rowan as they made their way back to the holt.

Rowan stopped to confer with Bluestone before returning home. Since the death of her own mother many years before, she had come to think of Thuryn's wife as a second mother. Despite her feelings for Bluestone, though, Rowan had not yet mentioned the current situation to her since Whitefox' sister, Windsong, was lifemate to Bluestone's son. Now there was no choice, for Rowan needed a mother's sympathy and advice.

"Hello, child," Bluestone said as Rowan entered her dwelling.

"Mother, I need your wisdom."

Bluestone indicated the seat beside her. "Come sit beside me and tell me what troubles you. Is it Whitefox?" she asked, startling Rowan.

"Yes...how did you know?"

"Child, the entire holt knows. How can you expect them to misinterpret the signs?" Rowan flushed as red as the berries of her name-tree. "There is no shame...Rowan, look at me." She did as Bluestone asked. "Recognition may not be welcome, but it must be accepted. You and Redthorn have been children together long enough. You must accept the responsibility that falls to you."

"Yes, mother."

"Whitefox is willing, but not happy. He will do what he must and help you care for the cubs, but he does not wish to be lifemate to you any more than you wish to be the same to him."

Rowan's heart was beating very fast. "He makes no claims?"

"None but the obvious one. He must lie with you soon. Recognition can be refused only so long."

"Then I will lie with him tonight. Thank you, mother." She kissed Bluestone's cheek and left the older elf, to find Whitefox. She found him bent over a bow that he was restringing, his red-gold curls falling forward to hide his face.

"Whitefox." He looked at her. His deep green eyes clouding with suspicion at the sight of her. "Come to me tonight," she said. Then she turned away before he could speak. She would see this duty through, yet not allow it to change her life or her love for Redthorn. She held herself proudly as she went home.

---

Part 2

"So, you've finally agreed, have you?" Rowan did not turn, but a smile crossed her face at the sound of Windsong's voice.

"Was there ever a question that I wouldn't...eventually?" she asked as Windsong entered the large living chamber of Rowan's tree and settled herself on the bed.

"Longblade and I were wondering if you'd hold out until one or both of you died of denial. Personally, I think that Whitefox has shown admirable restraint in not forcing the issue. I would have...." She fingered the coverlet and Rowan admired the small, slender hands, shuddering as she thought of them dealing death.

"Yes, but for you, denial is five minutes without sex."

Windsong's mouth dropped open in outrage, but then she began to laugh. "So I've been told," she admitted.

"Uh huh." Rowan grinned at her, then she took her friend's hand in her own. "Thank you for not trying to force the issue on your brother's behalf. I appreciate the quite confidence."

"What will be, you know..." Windsong said, brushing a wisp of blonde hair out of her face. "It had to happen eventually. I just stopped by to tell you not to worry. I mean, he's not a beast or anything. He's good at lt. He'll be nice to you. I've told him if there are any complaints he'll hear about it from me."

"Oh...dear," Rowan moaned. "He must think I'm some half-wilted flower now."

"Oh, no, dear. He knows Redthorn...quite well, actually, and he knows you have to be sturdy." At Rowan's exclamation of surprise she added: "I am not responsible for my brother."

"No more am I responsible for mine," Rowan remarked ironically. She sighed. "I don't mean to be tiresome about this, but I've always been content with Redthorn. I don't desire anyone else. Of course, I don't have a choice, now, which makes it worse. I look like a fool. He looks like a fool. Recognition stinks." That last sent Windsong into a fit of the giggles. "I'm so glad my dilemma amuses you, dear sister...you do know that now we're sistersosort of."

"Oh, that's sobering." She wiped her eyes. "Well, I shouldn't stay. It's getting late and Whitefox is understandably anxious to get on with things." She kissed Rowan's cheek. "He has a very sensitive back," she whispered. "You can get him to do anything if you go about it in the right way." Then she was gone, leaving Rowan more apprehensive than ever.

The next face she saw had slanting green eyes and was framed by an unruly mass of curls. Whitefox stood in the doorway and stared at her in the most unnerving manner until she lost patience. "I told you to come here tonight, so you needn't hang about looking guilty. Come in...and drop the flap behind you." He entered the tree and she watched him from the far side of the bed. He was graceful, small and quick in his movements, so unlike Redthorn's languid grace. He held out a small bunch of violets to her.

"They smelled nice," he said quietly.

"Thank you." They did smell nice. She was strangely moved by the gift.

She had not expected tenderness or sweetness, or anything but an act of expediency, but in her arms Whitefox was not sullen or difficult, but rather strangely gentle and affectionate. After their mating he lay beside her, stroking her hair, his lips brushing the skin of her face, throat, shoulders and breast. "Did we do it?" he asked. He twined violets In her hair.

"I'm not sure. We'll know soon."

"Can we try again, just to be sure?" He propped himself up on one elbow and smiled at her--not the smug, infuriating grin she remembered, but a sweet smile. Then his face changed, drawing into a frown. "He won't wait any longer," he snapped as he collected his clothing. "Let me know if we need to do this again." He stalked out without looking back, and a moment later Redthorn was with her.

"You sent to him," she accused as he settled down on top of her.

"I was tired of waiting for you. You were done, weren't you?"

"Oh, where are your manners?"

"You're the one who asked me to be here for you after. Shall I quote you exactly?"

"Shut up, Bryn."

"You liked him." It was not a question.

"Yes, I did. I hear that you did, too."

He smiled that strange, wicked smile of his. "I thought it was only fair. Oh, don't be so..."

"Proper? Prudish? Or perhaps I like him enough that I don't want him to be hurt because of us. Does that bother you?"

"A little," he confessed as he sniffed her. "You smell of him."

"You smell of Windsong."

"Fair is fair. Oh, don't look at me like that," he said, catching hold of her chin and giving her a little shake. "She's a tough one, is Windsong, and she likes to play with me." He saw the uncertain look in her eyes and he kissed her firmly, catching her head between his hands. "It's you I love. You're my heart's desire--no other. I have a hard time accepting that you could enjoy being with anyone else...even if I have my own side attractions. I m sorry. It's not fair."

"Will you apologize to Whitefox?"

"Yes, of course. I shouldn't have intruded." She relaxed and he twined his long limbs around her, stroking her absentmindedly. "I rather like him, all things considered."

"Do you really?"

He nodded. "I think we could be friends once all this is settled."

"That would be nice." She pressed her lips to his chest and sucked gently. "I'm still hungry," she whispered against the fair, blue-white skin. Whitefox was all golden, she remembered, down to the pelt of red- gold that covered him from chest to groin.

When Redthorn made love to her that night, Whitefox was there, too; and, when she woke later, she knew that she was already pregnant. Still, she thought as she straightened the coverlet on the bed, there was no reason to tell Whitefox just yet.

-- THE END --