The empty grove with the body of the hiker was cold. A moan of horror seeped into the chill. Something malefic pulsed beneath the needle-crusted floor. She knew it would ignore her if she kept still but she found herself stomping with crazed recklessness, dread in her belly like dark wine.

The ancient surface thrummed and vibrated. From everywhere, the moan of horror rang and she knew danger was already inside her defenses. She had to ignore illusions: Lavinia was still in her arms, a warm ghost.

And her mouth moved like a lamprey toward Sally’s neck.

This was the danger! She held it in her very arms.

Lavinia’s body shook; was she fighting it?

Warm lips fastened into a sucker ring on her neck. Sharp teeth tickled her skin. Iron arms encircled her.

A needle of sugary pain whispered like a deadly promise across that place on her neck which had felt strange when she woke yesterday.

The more Sally fought, the stronger the horror in her arms became. Shaking, she stopped fighting physically and let herself be in that dark grove with the malefic presence below.

A flight of marble steps opened at her feet. She raced down, calling “Lavinia! I’m coming to find you! I’m coming!”

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These steps really existed somewhere in the world, she knew but she shied away from what was in the room at the end of those stairs and raced instead along tunnels that she knew were just dream tunnels. They curved to the right, always to the right. Her neck bent slowly to the right.

As soon as she realized this, she whirled to her left and smashed at the wall. It crunched open beneath her fist. She leaped through, yowling tiger screams.

In dim light Lavinia struggled in the grip of formless things.

A roaring Sally reached Lavinia in a heart-stirring leap and swept her up in golden striped arms. She breathed into her beloved’s mouth. The words she’d spoken ages ago arrived like sun fire:

Wake up my welcome Lavinia, my wife. I’m Sally Yan, your tiger, and I call you back. Your home is here with me!

Or was she simply a cat-sized fairy saying, “Welcome. Come in?”

Lavinia’s eyes blazed and she put her hand in Sally’s.

In their solid homely camper with ordinary morning around them, Lavinia exploded from Sally’s arms and surged upright like a jet from a fountain. Sally tried to cry, “You’re welcome in my home!”

But Lavinia was not pulled to the door. With no hint of paralysis, she threw her arms around Sally and kissed her like their very first kiss.

Sally trembled with desire but fought to stay in control, still shaking with the horror she’d just been through.

Lavinia picked her up like a baby. There was healthy joy in her eyes as she carried Sally to the rear door and Sally let her own excitement dawn.

“Open the door, babe,” Lavinia cried, “I’m not agile enough to do it with my foot.”

“What are you doing!?” Sally laughed and cried as she did what Lavinia asked. Sunlight and cold, fresh air spilled in.

“You said it. My home is wherever you are. I’m carrying you across the threshold to our home!”

Holding Sally not like a baby but like a bride, she jumped into the bright morning sun.