Night had passed like view of a river in flood. Slow, enjoyable yet suffocating and silent despite the ripples. Gin remained rooted where he lay, the rough bark of the tree trunk behind him cool against his furred back, tail stretched straight, body relaxed in shape but taut within. Hours slipped by. The only motion from him was the quiet expansion and contraction of his spiritual sense.
He watched it all without a wink of sleep.
The twin canopies. The entwined beasts. The flickers of mating energy rising and falling like waves guided by a star he could no longer see behind thick clouds. His awareness danced lightly through it all, not out of duty but of desire. There had to be a thread, a trigger, a whisper something.
But there wasn't.
No core presence. No unnatural field. No illusion formation formed naturally.
Nor this is a forest area filled stimulant plants.
Or is it?
Everything was real.
And that was what made it worse.
