attraction and mating."
Ashe couldn't refrain from laughing. "You are sadly misinformed."
'I don't think so."
'I do, if you are under the impression that every woman affects men the way you do. You are judging by your own experience, and it is very different from the way it is for most people."
The conversation was making her uncomfortable; Ashe could tell because Rhapsody reached for her pack and rummaged until she found her lark's flute. She occasionally played the tiny instrument in the woods, as it had a sound that blended into the forest air, complementing the birdsong. That was by day; now the birds were silent, and the only music in the forest now was that of the wind. She settled back against a tree and regarded him with a wry look. "And you think you have a better perspective on men and women?" Ashe laughed again. "Well, not than most, but better than yours." Rhapsody began to play, a tripping series of notes that tickled the hairs on the back of his neck. She pulled the flute away from her lips and smiled. 'I think you are as unqualified to judge as I am, maybe more so." Ashe sat up in interest. "Really? Why?" "Because you're a wanderer." "And what does that have to do with anything?"
C "r
n my experience, foresters and other wanderers are very different from the majority of men," she said lightly. Twilight had faded completely into night; "er eyes scanned the sky, but she did not seem to find what she sought.
'How so?"
'They seek different things from women, for one. Women they would have on a temporary basis, that is."
She couldn't tell if Ashe really was smiling or if she just imagined she heard it in his voice. "And what might that be?"
Rhapsody returned to playing her lark's flute, lost in thought. The melody was airy but melancholy, and Ashe imagined he could see the colors and textures she was weaving with her notes, patterns of deep, soft swirls in shades of blue and purple, like ocean waves against the darkening sky before a storm. Then the song changed into brighter, longer measures, and the colors lightened and stretched until they wafted like clouds on a warm wind at sunset. Ashe listened, enthralled, until she was done, but held onto the thought she had left unanswered. "Well?"
She jumped a little. It was obvious her mind was far away. "Yes?" "Sorry. What do most men seek from temporary interaction with women?" Rhapsody smiled.
"Release." Ashe nodded. "And wanderers?" She thought for a moment. "Contact."
"Contact?"
'Yes. People who walk alone in the wide world all their lives sometimes lose perspective on what is real and what is not, what still remains and what is only memory. What men who wander most of their lives want, when they come upon a woman for a short time, is contact, reaffirmation that they really do exist. At least in my experience, anyway."
Ashe was silent for a moment. When he finally spoke his voice was soft. "And do they instead find sometimes that they do not exist?"
'I wouldn't know. I'm not a wanderer, at least not by choice. I hope only to be one for a short while. It's not a life I find suits me, and I am growing tired of it."
They sat in silence until her watch began. Ashe rose slowly and made his gear ready for the night, then slipped into the shadows, disappearing on the other side of the fire. Rhapsody watched him lie down, and thought she heard him sigh deeply.
Perhaps she was reading her own feelings into the sound, but she felt its music speak of deep loneliness, not unlike her own. She had been wrong about his feelings before and had been taken aback when she tried to comfort or reassure him, only to find he felt no need for it, and was annoyed by her attempt. Rhapsody weighed her options for a moment, then decided to err on the side of being too kind. "Ashe?" "Hmmm?"
'You do exist, even if you are hard to see sometimes." The voice from the shadows was noncommittal. "Thank you so very much for telling me."
Rhapsody cringed. She had chosen wrong again.
Ashe couldn't refrain from laughing. "You are sadly misinformed."
'I don't think so."
'I do, if you are under the impression that every woman affects men the way you do. You are judging by your own experience, and it is very different from the way it is for most people."
The conversation was making her uncomfortable; Ashe could tell because Rhapsody reached for her pack and rummaged until she found her lark's flute. She occasionally played the tiny instrument in the woods, as it had a sound that blended into the forest air, complementing the birdsong. That was by day; now the birds were silent, and the only music in the forest now was that of the wind. She settled back against a tree and regarded him with a wry look. "And you think you have a better perspective on men and women?" Ashe laughed again. "Well, not than most, but better than yours." Rhapsody began to play, a tripping series of notes that tickled the hairs on the back of his neck. She pulled the flute away from her lips and smiled. 'I think you are as unqualified to judge as I am, maybe more so." Ashe sat up in interest. "Really? Why?" "Because you're a wanderer." "And what does that have to do with anything?"
C "r
n my experience, foresters and other wanderers are very different from the majority of men," she said lightly. Twilight had faded completely into night; "er eyes scanned the sky, but she did not seem to find what she sought.
'How so?"
'They seek different things from women, for one. Women they would have on a temporary basis, that is."
She couldn't tell if Ashe really was smiling or if she just imagined she heard it in his voice. "And what might that be?"
Rhapsody returned to playing her lark's flute, lost in thought. The melody was airy but melancholy, and Ashe imagined he could see the colors and textures she was weaving with her notes, patterns of deep, soft swirls in shades of blue and purple, like ocean waves against the darkening sky before a storm. Then the song changed into brighter, longer measures, and the colors lightened and stretched until they wafted like clouds on a warm wind at sunset. Ashe listened, enthralled, until she was done, but held onto the thought she had left unanswered. "Well?"
She jumped a little. It was obvious her mind was far away. "Yes?" "Sorry. What do most men seek from temporary interaction with women?" Rhapsody smiled.
"Release." Ashe nodded. "And wanderers?" She thought for a moment. "Contact."
"Contact?"
'Yes. People who walk alone in the wide world all their lives sometimes lose perspective on what is real and what is not, what still remains and what is only memory. What men who wander most of their lives want, when they come upon a woman for a short time, is contact, reaffirmation that they really do exist. At least in my experience, anyway."
Ashe was silent for a moment. When he finally spoke his voice was soft. "And do they instead find sometimes that they do not exist?"
'I wouldn't know. I'm not a wanderer, at least not by choice. I hope only to be one for a short while. It's not a life I find suits me, and I am growing tired of it."
They sat in silence until her watch began. Ashe rose slowly and made his gear ready for the night, then slipped into the shadows, disappearing on the other side of the fire. Rhapsody watched him lie down, and thought she heard him sigh deeply.
Perhaps she was reading her own feelings into the sound, but she felt its music speak of deep loneliness, not unlike her own. She had been wrong about his feelings before and had been taken aback when she tried to comfort or reassure him, only to find he felt no need for it, and was annoyed by her attempt. Rhapsody weighed her options for a moment, then decided to err on the side of being too kind. "Ashe?" "Hmmm?"
'You do exist, even if you are hard to see sometimes." The voice from the shadows was noncommittal. "Thank you so very much for telling me."
Rhapsody cringed. She had chosen wrong again.
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