His panic seized his muscles. He could not move. Not even to wipe at his eyes or pinch himself to find if he were truly awake.

Her golden gown flowed in the breeze that the hunter could not feel. She moved toward him, no floated. She was floating toward him. And she rose, to meet him in his low hanging tree stand.

She repeated her request in a musically enticing voice, “Tell them, I come.”

Before her hand reached his cheek, he snapped from his hypnotic gaze, shaking his head and tightly closing his eyes. Tears squeezed between the lids, he had held them so tightly. Opening them again, she was still there.

He cursed once again, and gathered his strength to mutter, “Tell who?”

The raven haired demi-goddess smiled and tilted her head to the left. Her hands clasped in front as would a queen. “Them,” the whisper came though her lips never moved.