For some reason they were unable to discern, they felt the darkness of their childhood fantasies creeping along the edges of their minds. They waited, feeling as if they would be swallowed by some unseen, demented dragon. The early morning darkness teased at the hidden primal recesses of their minds, threatening to ignite with furry their flight or fight response. Their thoughts diverted by the charged tension they found it difficult to maintain their usual focus and allow the soft, soothing energy of the Universe to flow through their bodies.

They knew the journey had become more dangerous - - infinitely more dangerous - - and more frightening each time the travelers went out. The intrusion of these thoughts served no purpose, but only increased their anxiety. Consciously they refused the intrusion of those dangerous thoughts into their minds. Instead they held the image of a safe, successful return in their mind’s eye, searing the image indelibly into their brains. They vowed to keep the travelers safe from evil and darkness for the next fifty-nine days and that would be their focus. In their determination they would try not to ask themselves or each other, "Are the odds running out?"

Five times the three women had watched this ritual of preparation and packing. Their vigil begun, they were reminded that once the travelers were out of sight their shared mystical journey would begin, drawing them into an undivided union. They knew they would hold secret from each other their individual, painful journeys, the internal journey of anxiety, worry, and anticipation. Yet they would joyfully share between them the external journey of loving support, shared faith, prayers, and meditations. Together they would direct their concentration and set the energy for the travelers’ successful return, but never for a moment would they forget the perilous, spine-chilling journeys of the early days. If one had looked closely they would have seen the shudders that secretly whispered the fear that moved through their bodies. Later, alone in their vigil, they would have many discussions about their fears but for now those things would be put aside.

They stood together on the back porch of the community house. The early morning darkness surrounding them, they inhaled the sweetness of an awakening planet, looking for any sign that could be construed as positive. Chris, the tallest of the three, leaned her lithe body against the porch post. Her long blonde hair piled into a mound on top of her head, the familiar curly tendrils falling free. With an unconscious brush of her hand, she pushed the free willed strands back into place. Never had she been quite able to gather all of her thick wild mane into the same place at the same time. Even in the old days, with the help of the now long gone cans of spray, her hair had been wild, free. Her lucky Levi’s, clung tightly to her still strong, muscled, shapely body. The rough fabric next to her skin gave her a sense of security reminiscent of the old days when she felt far more capable. Worn only on special occasions, these were probably the best looking ten year old Levi’s left on the planet. She knew it was a silly thing to hang on to the past through a pair of jeans but she had treasured and cared for them carefully all these years. She would laugh and say that hope springs eternal even in Levi’s. What she never shared, even with Ann and Marie, but held sacred in her heart, was, that hope was fragile, yet it was needed. She used that hope as the impetus that drove her onwards in the crazy world that had become her reality. She wrapped her arms around her, hugging her favorite warm, bulky sweater tightly to her body as if barring the escape of what tiny bits of elusive courage remained inside her. She had knitted the sweater herself from the brushed out coat of her dearly loved dog, Christopher, who had been her companion for nearly 15 years.

Her boots, similar in design to those of Ann and Marie, had been sewn in the mill from last years' cow hides. A copy of the useful cowboy boot that had gained popularity in the old days not only as a work boot but also as dancing slippers for the country western crowd. The boots of soft natural suede, her trademark, had been stitched with her design of Eagle wings that laid from the front up each side. Having always had an affinity for high heels, her boots sported a higher, narrower heel then the usual boot of this style. They seemed to give the wings air, a lift, as if they were in flight. Higher heels gave her legs the shape she was finding so hard to relinquish even at her age. They gave her a sense of freedom and she was rarely seen with out them, if she was, the boot was still suede, black, and very tight over her calf. A picture from the old days, it was hard to tell by looking at her that these once common pieces of clothing had become more difficult to come by in the last decade then a vial of penicillin.

Her spirit was bolstered by the weather; it was good for traveling, and that was a good sign. From experience she knew the season would change quickly and somehow the travelers would have to come full circle before the deep snow fell. Today however, deep snow was not the issue.

The darkness of the early morning peaked her well-developed inner senses, and awakened an awareness in her mind’s eyes of the beauty of the environment that surrounded her. The majesty of nature that encircled the little valley that had become her mountain top home salved her fear. For Chris, there was no other place on earth quite like the depth of the Northwest forests.

The valley, her valley, nestled high in the mountains so close to the border that if one climbed the tallest peak they would see Canada on one side and the US on the other. In her minds' eye she welcomed the beauty and protection of the forest, strong, demanding, yet lush, soft and a thousand shades of green. Each tree stood as if a watchman, guarding, waiting for the unseen manifestations of nature. The change of every season brought the silent breath of transformation and the coming of fall, to her eyes was like no other; it was exquisite.

She knew that fall would release the intensity of the summers heat. As the days slowly lost their length she would witness with her silent being the process of the cycle of life. With unmistakable clarity nature would announce the beauty of the change as the subtle hint of the crispness, the fragrance of autumn would fill the air. Yet knowing summer had not quite given up. It remained alive in bright greens and golden yellows as if protesting in beauty the death throes of summer. Still, something had changed, everything a little lazy, but with an underlying frenzy -- slowing down, speeding up, ending yet somehow beginning.

Tomorrow or the next day, without notice, nature would make her wondrous move. The forest and meadows would come ablaze with brilliant limes, yellows, oranges, reds, and every shade in between, startling and breathtaking, summer’s last attempt to ward off the finality of death. By the time the season change would have an impact on her awareness fall would have taken hold of its time. The new season firmly entrenched in the air she would smell it, feel it, and taste it. She would rejoice in its splendor, but in the deepest recesses of her heart she would secretly wonder, "How many more times will it happen like this? Is it all doomed to end? Will it be lost, gone forever in some painfully slow, destructive process, or an instantaneous catastrophic event, or left for the eons of travelers yet to come?"

Ann broke the depth of their silence, "Looks as if the packing is nearly complete. They'll be ready for breakfast and eager to be on their way soon."

Always in the here and now, Ann was the practical one, firm and structured. She had an uncanny gift for organization and timing. Through the years they had come to recognize that was why they needed her, she was task-oriented and focused. Her commanding style left little room for balking or questions.

Little, barely 5 foot tall with a small frame she was the shortest of the woman, but her tone and style belied her small stature. Her rich black hair and green eyes had always been her most striking features and remained so even in her 60’s. Her body language, rigid and powerful had always kept most people at bay.

Everything about Ann was practical. She was always clean, neat and tidily collected. Her hair had been cropped short for quick easy care, her nails trimmed neatly, her clothing fitting close to her body.

Cloth fabric had become nearly impossible to find and the villages’ stores of fabric bolts were long ago depleted. Ann, like most of the women in the valley, found leather, suede and buckskin the quickest and easiest form of dress.

Yarn too remained plentiful. It could be spun from the fur of the domestic and farm animals in the valley. Many warm and cool garments were knitted or crocheted over the long cold winters either by hand or machine and Ann was an expert at both. Like Chris she too had loved her jeans, but today her practicality told her she needed soft, overall like leathers. Tucked neatly inside was her favorite tee-shirt from the old days, the one covered with the arched body of a once, nearly extinct Orca whale. She needed the pockets today for her notes, books, pencils, and other bits of supplies she thought necessary.

Her pant legs stuffed inside boots she had studded with tiny chips of crushed turquoise, an art she had learned in the Arizona desert. Her body leaned forward as if to get a closer view of the travelers, tiny, strong hands grasped the smooth pecker pole of the porch railing. Her grasp tight, less for balance then for the firm support it provided as she tired desperately to control her fear drenched body.

Many years ago, through the depth of despair, Ann met herself, her spirit, in a series of emotional and spiritual challenges that followed the birth of her youngest son. She had no idea her spirit even remained with her, when so long ago she had denied it’s existence and turned away from what she knew to be true in her heart. During the 10 years following the failure of her first marriage Ann refused any discussion or thought of the night on the mountain and had run over a thousand miles with her second husband to escape what she called the torment of She Wolf. Then one day she found herself sitting alone in the middle of painful emptiness, filled with anger, unable, unwilling to embrace forgiveness. And still today, forgiveness remained her greatest challenge. For her, raging hormones, emotional terror, and the loneliness of an empty desert opened a door to a garden of renewed spiritual development and a second encounter with She Wolf.

As she stood with Marie and Chris, Ann felt the sweet, warm memories that reminded her how much she loved the ritual of the send-off. The village filled with holiday atmosphere, the energy warm and sweetly sincere, the excitement, the focus and the love felt like home to her, comforting. A loner by nature she often made her way to the periphery of an event, she would watch and feel the infusion of love and support that filled the hearts and spirits of the villagers. The sense of a living spirit was unequalled for her when her friends and neighbors gathered, their like minds in harmony. Then suddenly, with a lively exuberance, she would throw herself into the middle of the excitement. As she had done many times before she would move among the travelers. Again listening to their plans, reviewing the lists that reflected the needs of the village, what they carried to share and trade, how they would defend and protect themselves and the commodities they carried. Carefully she would check other details, the travelers timeline, where they would be when. She would pore over the maps one last time, identifying and finalizing where they would hide messages if something went wrong. Although she would have committed every detail to memory, she would continue to exhaustively examine the plan closely for anything that may have changed and gone unnoticed. Every note scrutinized one last time before she gave the final instructions. When satisfied, she would close her notebook, silently signaling the end to the numberless discussions, the planning, and documentation she had spent countless hours preparing since spring.

"Do you think it's time?" the reluctance clearly obvious in the soft slowness of Marie's voice. She wanted to postpone the departure as long as possible.

Marie paced with controlled nervousness back and forth across the porch. She watched the travelers and listened to Chris and Ann’s conversation and sensed their secret thoughts. She had always been the cautious one and often took on the role of devils advocate for the trio. She was a bit taller than her older sister Ann and though similarly brunette she had the beautiful creamy white, alabaster sensitive skin of a redhead and deep, bottomless brown eyes. Her beautiful skin a woeful genetic inheritance from a redheaded, fair skinned mother and a dark haired, ruddy complexioned father. The combination had been an unwanted curse. Her sensitive skin reacted to everything from food and the poisoned rays of the sun, to every soap and cleanser that had been made in the old days. She had learned long ago to dress carefully, keeping the sun from touching the slightest morsel of her tender flesh. The sadness was that few people ever saw her flawless, magnificent skin, her hands and face the only parts of her to be seen or touched by the air, sun or wind. Most days found her covered from head to toe, a thought that had caused gratitude to well in Chris on many occasions. Especially hot summer days, when she had lounged in bikinis and the shortest shorts ever made, and today was no different she was grateful for her Italian heritage. Marie wore a smooth, light beige suede dress tied loosely at the waist. A high neck and long sleeves were laced at the wrists and its length laid against her ankles hidden within the boots covering her feet. Marie was an excellent artist, who at one time, had illustrated children’s books, combined her talent as a seamstress and began to design clothing shortly after her move to the valley. Her collective talent was reflected in the simple, delicate, dress that adorned her body. The design and cut gave it a soft feminine flare that created a willowy flow of soft fabric with each movement of her body. The stitching added definition and interest to the design. She looked protected, warm, and for their situation, comfortable.

For the first time, Marie's eldest daughter, Beth, would participate in the journey and Marie was obviously concerned. Ann openly disagreed with her sister and as only an older sister could do, she applied pressure. Though filled with trepidation Ann was forced to let her daughter face her consequences.

Marie’s thoughts slipped to her oldest daughter. Though often angry and argumentative Beth had been needy and vulnerable all her life. To many she had managed to appear as a strong and assertive young woman and adult. Where men were concerned she had been especially needy and vulnerable. She had been in and out of violent relationships for most of her adult life. Marie knew she was not a popular choice for inclusion in the group and her proposed companions were concerned she would, in some way, present a dangerous threat to their safety. Marie agreed but Ann, on the other hand, believed her presence could offer a challenge to the group or perhaps Beth would experience her own inter-personal challenge. Either way the outcome could be either disastrous or glorious. As yet the reason for her inclusion had not been revealed and Marie prayed silently for understanding of the directive. It remained that Marie was overwhelmingly concerned for her daughter’s safety and the safety of the group as a whole. Her greatest fear was that Dan had found his way to the Frasier Village, and after all this time Beth would choose to stay with him, again abandoning her children and family. Marie held that it was not too late to make changes, and who knew what would happen at the inner group meeting? She would not interfere with the instructions in the communication, but could only hope that someone else would force a change.