he hazy light, of a fresh new morning, fights its way through the overcast, and slowly envelopes the vale. Painting across the sky in mystical rays.

A slow, persistent cloudburst, descends upon the mountain. Thunder rumbles through the sky, like the calling of drumbeats, commanding brothers to arms, across a distant plain. The usual chorus of birdsong, that fills the air, is soft. A gentle coo amidst the faithful cadence of the rain. Light flashes, within dark-grey, billowy clouds. Yet there's peace here. A calm, that doesn't deny the storm but embraces it.

Inside a simple, solitary, cabin a pair of bodies stir, feeling alive and a little more than just rested. With a synchronicity they stretch and step out of bed. Take stock of the weather, then start at their day. There's a way between them. An imperceptible aspect that makes them seem as one, even if their bodies are separated by their task. Their movements are fluid, purposeful and intimate.

Like now. As they sit by the window, waiting for the rain to break, feeding each other in a quiet reverie. His hands are hers, her mouth is his. They are two halves of two wholes. Separate, unique, but one.

Raindrops ripple the puddles and fall as droplets from the overhang outside. They listen to it's melody, tapping, tap, tap, tapping, methodically, against the wood porch floor.

Neither of them cares if it ever stops at all.

Time passes casually. The weather's tempo slows. The light brightens, ever so lazily, shining upon this closed off little rift. A soothing silence envelopes the world.

Until a cacophony of life resounds upon the air. Birds take flight, hunting for worms and bugs brought to surface by the precip. Animals scurry and play in the dew. The two humans stand on the porch breathing in the scents of the rain. She takes his hand and leads him outside. Half skipping as she walks across the wet grass and muddy trails. They take a refreshing swim in the crystal clear pond, in a content and joyous welcome, to an unassuming day.

Energized, by the cool crisp waters, they set themselves to task. They gather fruits and herbs and fuel for the fire. She checks the traps and gathers more fish, while he chops the wood and stacks it, neatly, by the porch. Testing his strength and working out the atrophy.

His was a long bed ridden stay. His muscles burn. He feels, good. He feels, sound.

Shutters are tended, the porch rail mended and the cabin is checked for future repairs. They take stock of the plants, and various resources, and set up a list of to do's.

Through the course of their day they find an assortment of tools. Some crude, made of rock and wood, and some nicely crafted ones, of multiple ores and very unique combinations of materials. They find a forge out back of a black glass, like quartz, with a very weathered, leathery bellows. He pumps the bag and the slag relents and starts to bubble-up through the coke. Yellow white rivulets, of thick hot magma, consume the shiny black crust. It rolls and flows as steam rises from the surface and the rainwater boils away.

'Hmm. This could come in handy.' he quips.

"Can you metal-meld?"

'I have. But not like this… I did always want to give it a try though. Guess there's a reason to start now. Until then it'll still be a great place to make a stew, dry clothes, or smoke some meat."

"We need build a box for smoking."

'Do you know how to do that?'

"Mmhmm."

They wander and survey their eclectic new home, taking note of it's mechanics and design. Then they take some time to check out the valley and all the flora and fauna that share it.

'Everything here is similar to things in my time,' he offers, 'but it's tweaked in subtle ways. Like this. It's branches and leaves are definitely Dogwood, but I've never seen one with silver trim on white leaves.'

"Some different to mine too, but some same. For me, that you call Dogwood, is Barking Cherry, I put some in the mind ache tea, it good for… hmm? When the body is with heat?"

'Fever?'

"Yes. Fever. The berries and bark help with lots of sick and pain."

A little before noon they take a break and have a picnic. Their blanket soon becomes crowded by creatures, that eye them with curiosity as they scramble for the crumbs. They nap together under the wide open sky, rise and continue the labors of the day.

They make good use of the tools they found. Heat-straightening hinges, crafting a new bed and shoring up boards. As the sun edges closer to the western ridge, they find themselves wrestling with wood and nails, hurriedly working against the impending dark.

Their bodies glisten in a sheen of sweat as they test out their brand new door. A good days work has come to fruition.

They take a walk to the falls and wash each other, reverently, with the soap she's made of potash, fats and oils. He wraps her in his arms and they tease each other affectionately, while lazing on a moss covered rock, by the lake's grassy shore. Their bodies pressed into one another.

They stare up at the sky taking a moment to unwind. Speaking very little. Each one just enjoying the presence of the other and the sounds of life all around them.

The last rays of the sun's light smooth an arc on the ground as the white orb of the evening rises to share it’s sky. She stands and offers her hand. He takes it and rises to his feet. They stretch a vigor back into their limbs and walk the stiffness from their sinews.

He looks at his hands and flexes his fingers. Curiously eyeing the fibers of his forearm as they push against his skin. There's a youthful strength here. A stamina he hasn't felt in a very long time. His eyes see clear and true, even though his contacts never made it to this land. Everything is sharp, defined.

His gaze is pulled to the grey-white sphere, that hovers over the cut out in the edge of the mountain. It fits perfectly between the outcropping, like a gem in the talons of a dragon's claw ring.

'Valley of the Moon,' he says thoughtfully, standing in the stream as the cool water scrambles passed his feet.

"Yes. The moon fit with this place. You can hear, before its rise."

An eagle screes, its voice buffeting off the canyon walls. Its silhouette soars across the moon and disappears beyond the crest.

She turns, kisses him on the cheek, with a smile, looks up to the heavens and that glowing ivory ball and declares, lovingly, almost forlorn, "I am Solata Lunata Ziata, of the Valley of the Moon." A single tear finally breaks passed her resolve.

'Are you okay?' he asks, without even seeing it.

"It's first time I say a name full. In long time. It's first time, I feel home since them."

He takes her in his arms and she turns to face him. He brushes her hair back and kisses her neck. She puts her head into his chest. He cradles his arm around her, drifting it down to her side.

"I wish we stay forever." she intones, with a hint of sadness that makes him soften.

'Me too Lu. There's plenty of worse places, or ways, to spend ones life than this.'

"You feel it too?"

'What? That there's shit, out there, we need to do? Yeah! I kinda got that fucked up feeling myself. I mean in every story I ever read, shit like this doesn't happen just to fill a vacancy in an empty cabin. But I'm going to enjoy, this, until that time comes.'

"Good. We home, we home. We leave…"

'As long as you're with me, I'm still home.'

"Yes."

He lays himself down on a thick bed off grass under a great old oak, feeling the last bit of sun and the warm dusk air on his body. He watches as she gathers flower petals and smiles when she giggles at a blue tailed squirrel, wrestling too many hazelnuts in his cheeks.

They enjoy this moment of simple distractions. The wind on their flesh, the sounds of the birds, the chattering of chipmunks, the rustle of the leaves, the gentle voice of the stream and the subtle woosh of the passing of clouds overhead.

'So, Little Moon, what's next?'

"Seriously? Many Moon.", she playfully jibes, skipping across the stream to pet a bunny. "We got much to figure. And make. Like clothes, or way of travel. And where we are, or when."

'And so many other things to learn.' he coyly replies.

The curiosity of that blue flame is not lost to either of them.

She crosses back to the side of the stream, where he sits. Slowly. Tittering as the duckweed tickles her toes. He's propped up on his elbows watching the shadows of the leaves transpose on her skin. Painting her appearance into that of a forest nymph. She plops by his side and nestles up against him.

They hold each other tight, she in his arms, he in hers. Content. Happy. Whole.

"We need get back into the world, yes. But I not think we need hurry," she says, in point of fact, "We need learn out that energy. If we, can use it, and what it does."

'I guess we should get started then,' he teases, with a more than flirtatious look.

"I hoping you say that," she slys, biting his neck tenderly.

'Wait,' his fingers trace the length of her spine, she shivers. 'Are you sure, you don't want to wait a week or two?’ he asks, with a mischievous grin.

She wrestles him down to the ground, with a strength that rivals his own and a playful grace that makes him laugh. Her body smooths, sensually over his, as she pulls herself over him and stares in his eyes.

She lowers her lips to his, stopping just shy of touching.

Then she cocks her head, looks to the bunny she was just petting and asks it, "You rekon that whirly wind, got a Swap-n-Trade?"