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

The journey had become more dangerous - - infinitely more dangerous - - and more frightening each time the travelers go 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 mind�s. 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 yearly ritual of preparation and packing. This years vigil begun, they were reminded that once the travelers are 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 will direct their concentration and set the energy for the travelers� successful return, but never for a moment will they forget the perilous, spine-chilling journeys of the early days. If one had looked closely, the shudders that secretly whispered the fear that moved through their bodies were evident. 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 and 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 herself, 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. The sweater, even more dear to her then her Levi�s gave her a comforting sense of love. She had knitted it herself from the yarn she had spun from the brushed out coat of Christopher, her dearly loved dog. With the heart of a Great Dane the little six pound dog had been her companion for nearly fifteen years. She still missed his loving, joyful presence near her.

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. The wings laid closed at the front of the boot and stretched up each side, opening wide. 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 which to her eyes, her heart was completely infused with the limited goodness of God.

The valley, their 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 was like no other; it was exquisite.

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 would change, 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. Then 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�s why they needed her; she�s 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 personal 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 a comforting home. 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. 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 and the travelers timeline, knowing exactly where they would be when. She would pour over the maps one last time, identifying and finalizing where they would hide messages if something went wrong. Although she had 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 red headed, 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 Chris had lounged in bikinis and the shortest shorts ever made, and today was no different, she was grateful for her Italian heritage.

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. Where men were concerned Beth had been especially needy and vulnerable. She had been in and out of violent relationships for most of her adult life. Marie knew Beth was not a popular choice for inclusion in the group of travelers. Her companions were concerned she may, 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. 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, once again abandoning her children and family. Marie held that it�s not too late to make changes, and who knew what would happen at the inner group meeting? Marie would not interfere with the instructions in the communication; someone else would have to.