Chapter 1 The night is still, the full moon casting

shadows on the white covered ground. The temperature

hovered around thirty–six degrees. Autumn stood there

on the back porch of the rented cabin, just being still.

Lost in thoughts of her new book.” Dragon Eyes.” She

was trying to decide where to go with the story, at this

point she could make it a love story or a tragedy. As we

all know most love stories are tragedies in the waiting.

Her own life could contest to that. After the death of her

husband in a car accident, after the grieving went on for

months. Her family began to worry about her. After a

week at them bitching at her, phone calls and pop in

visits, wanting her to come back to the living world she

decided to get away from them and and the home she

had made with Robert. She had always loved these

mountains. So here she stood with a another path to

decide on. Luckily this one was on paper and could be

rewrote if the ending did not suit her. Autumn always

patterned her books off real life happenings in her life.

Change the names of the innocent, but keep the names of the guilty, was her motto. This book was proving

difficult for her. Replaying the death of Robert looking

at the broken promises their life had become. She cried

here in this cabin the first night she set up the computer.

Just the initial thoughts of his death that night had

released a flood of tears. Then the work began the next

morning as the sun came thru the window and the snow

birds flew from dead branch to dead branch she had her

beginning. The wind picked up and the snow began to

fall again. Autumn wrapped her arms around herself

and let the snow cover her in a protective cold shield.

The coldness around her matched the coldness she had

felt in her heart for months. Upon retreating inside to

the warmth of the fire she paused at the computer

touched its keys and walked on, into the kitchen. Once

there she could not decide between a glass of wine or a

glass of Crown. She choose the Crown, after downing

the shot she poured another and carried the bottle with

her into the living room where she sat in darkness until

sleep engulf her body and her mind. The sound of the plane crash woke her from her alcohol induced sleep.

She rose from the couch thinking it was the dream

again. Since Robert had died in the fiery crash, dreams

had robbed her of sleep. Waking all hours of the nigh

hearing metal on metal she sat there a few moments

listening. Autumn poured another drink, sat there in the

silent darkness of the room as visions of nightmarish

dreams of the past traveled through her mind. In her

dreams of death, she sees fire. The trees are on fire.

Each way she looks in the dream, fire and trees. The

sense of falling and tumbling over and over. She can’t

make it stop. The sound of metal bending as it makes

contact with the trees and boulders. She see windshield

glass flying over him in slow motion. The sensation of

speed is felt as she feels the car bounce and turns down

the embankment. Disorientation. Then the feeling of the

body sets in. Chest hitting the steering wheel, ribs can

be felt breaking. Then the smell of fresh blood. She

tastes it in her mouth. The car stops then in the dream.

It rests on a bolder right side up. Autumn sees him there, in the car setting on the drivers side of the car

covered in blood. His eyes on her pleading for help.

The explosion in the dream started slowly. A flash of

blue, then fire. It engulfs the car in an instant, but

Roberts face can still be seen. His hair melts from his

head, the smell of burning flesh enters the dream now,

this is the part of the dream where I try to wake. I

scream in my head, the smells are fresh, the face of my

love turning from a golden tan to a burnt, purple black.

I wake with the visions still playing before me. I sit up

in bed, pull my knees to my chest and rock and cry for

hours, usually until the sun rises and the darkness fades

away. Autumn tells no one of her dreams, or the fact

that she walks with them daily. She has stopped driving

herself, her car sets as a testament to death in her

driveway. She does not pull it into the garage, she will

not sell it or donate it, because seeing it there day after

day watching it go through the seasons, through the rain

and snow somehow gives her a sense of peace. Strange

she knows, but it works for her. By this time of the early morning, Autumn must move from the couch to

retrieve logs for the fire. Its embers grow cold and a

chill has come upon the room. She sets before the fire

on the floor with visions of death around her. The

morning finds her on the floor. Stiff from sleeping

there, she rises and makes her way into the kitchen to

start coffee, then the shower. She promises herself

today she will write. Today she will live.Chapter 2 Charles Rawlins had no time to radio the

mayday. He had no warning that his life would take

such a drastic change. His single engine planes wing

had clipped a tree. The snowfall had thickened, and the

wind was blowing him around like a kite. Then the

impact. Hard frozen ground had torn the metal of the

plane into shreds. Dragging himself away from the

plane he saw the frozen mountain slope before him. The

smell of his flesh burning. Pain in his body, he could

not decide which hurt more the burns or the bruised

body. The snow falling cooled the burns on his face and

hands. His mind wavered, between the darkness of his

mind and the blinding snow fall. As unconsciousness

engulfed him, the plane exploded, sending the black

smoke off the mountain. Parts of the plane flew through

the air and landed near him. Charles saw nor heard any

of this. He lay there as the snow covered his burned and

broken body. The sun was mid–way in the sky when he

woke from his sleep. Afraid to move and afraid not too.

The snow covered his face, he could feel the weight of it. A few minutes more and he could have smothered he

thought. With great effort and pain he rose from his

frozen tomb. Alive. Charles took in his surroundings.

Through bloody and swelled eyes he saw the beauty of

the mountain with it’s snow covered trees. He could

hear the sound of water running over rocks. Then he

saw it. His plane lay in pieced, smoke still drifted from

the main engine area. Wings splinter like a child had

grew tired of it and tossed it away. Unrecognizable

pieces of the plane stuck out of the snow, it reminded

Charles of a graveyard of ancient times it’s tombstones

broken and left to decay. He surveyed his surroundings

once more when it saw it. Smoke from a chimney, he

thought. It’s white tail reaching to the heavens as a sign

of hope. How far to to the cabin he wondered. As he

went to stand, his right leg buckled and he again found

himself on the frozen ground. Not broken but badly

bruised, lucky he thought. He knew he would not make

it through the night and no one knew where to look for

him, hell there was no one to look. Instead of taking the time for self– petty he began dragging himself toward

the smoke. Charles made it a couple hundred yards

toward the cabin before the delirium set in. Between the

pain, the exhaustion and the freezing wind and snow,

the will to live left. He surrender to the mountain. His

body shut down. Dreams of his youth, swirled in and

out. Dreams of a young boy, he was mischievous and

loved, tormenting his sisters. Playing football and his

friends, Then adulthood. His marriage to Grace and his

happiness at the news of their child. The the nightmares

began. The restaurant in which they sat celebrating their

sons first birthday with friends and family. The man

with the gun. Bullets moving in slow motion, striking

Grace in the head. Her slumping at the table. Their son

crying , as Charles reached for him blackness. He had

been hit in the chest. When he regained consciences his

son was dead. Sitting in the highchair, birthday cake

covered his little angel face. He prayed to God in the

heavens for death, those two days spent in the hospital.

On the second they informed him his sisters also died that night. A massacre by a mad man. Upon release

from the hospital he attended the funerals of this life

and left town alone. Not knowing where to go He went

to the small airport and fueled his plane. Grace had

loved flying. Many a Sunday afternoon they could be

found soaring through the clouds. This day he flew not

with happiness but with sadness. He wished to wreck

the plane and join his family in Heaven. Never a over

religious man, he found himself thinking about God as

he flew this day. The plane crash, was an accident.

Charles had cussed God yes, but had made peace with

him flying through the heavens he prayed for peace of

heart. Chapter 3 Autumn had spent four hours at the

computer. Needing fresh air and a break from writing

she pulled on her coat and boots and went for a walk

through the snow. The path she usually took was

blocked by a fallen tree. The weight of the snow proved

to much for it’s roots. The way she took would lead her

up the mountain, the view from her favorite spot she

hoped would give her inspiration for the next chapters.

As she walked with mind wandering to the people of

her story. How would she piece together their lives to

the end result she wished to happen. Autumn loved

fiction. When reading it she could place herself in the

story. See what the narrator saw, feel what the

characters felt. When writing fiction she tried to express

the emotions she would feel, sometimes she failed at it

horribly and had to start over. This story at present

seemed to flow from her. As she walked she tried to

take in the snow covered scenery. Alone on the

mountain these past few days had given her peace of

mind. . Lost in thought she was on the wreckage before she saw it. Hanging from the boulders the body of a

plane. Its wing standing in the snow a tombstone was

her first impression. Then she saw the body. Half

covered with snow and bloody. He sensed her there. An

Angel he thought. Coming to take me home. I will see

Grace and my son again. Half unconscious, his mind

wavered from fantasy to reality with the pain of being

moved. Autumn did the only thing she could. She took

off her long coat and slid it under the body of the man

and dragged him down the mountain to the cabin. The

stairs proved most difficult, but she got him to the fire

place and covered him with the afghan from the couch.

Placing more logs on the fire. She tried the phone, lines

down from the storm yesterday and last night. She

waited by the man, and heard his painful cries, in his

delirium from the fever she heard his madness at God

and the Angels. She learned of Grace and their son. She

felt his pain and understood the wanting to die. In that

moment her heart began its’ melting. As she wiped his

brow with the cold rag, washing away the blood and saw the bruising her heart melted a little more. Life had

a purpose now, saving his man whose name she did not

know. The wind picked up as the sun set and the snow

began it’s decent once more over the cabin. Ice could be

heard pecking at the windows. Help would not come.

She gave him sips of the Crown, for lack of any other

pain killer. Autumn removed his tore and burned

clothes and surveyed his injuries. Burns covered his

hands only a little burn on his face. The snow had

helped she thought. Cuts and bruises on the face. Rib

area purple and swollen but nothing felt broke. Badly

bruised leg must have hit a boulder, but not broke he

would mend. Autumn retrieved the blow–up mattress

from the closet, and after washing the man and treating

the burns, she covered him with blankets and stoked the

fire before she went to work on food. She figured the

man had not eaten in a day nor had she. While making

chicken soup her memory was jogged from last night.

What she thought was the beginning of her personal

nightmare had to have been the sound of the crash. Chapter 4 Autumn sat on the couch keeping watch over

the man. Watching him sleep, covering him when his

tossing removed the blankets. Hours passed before he

woke enough to ask questions. She calmed him and

served him soup, which he ate hardily, his name is

Charles Rawlins. Then seeing the Crown setting on the

table asked for a shot. Then the questions started.

Through his pain he wanted to know how he got off the

mountain and where he was and who she was. Autumn

answered them all. Charles dozed off again. Autumn

dozed on the couch. The morning found them snowed

in. The snow had drifted half way up the doors. Autumn

was great full to have carried in the split logs the other

day enough to last a few days. That was one on the

chores she hated most. Charles still slept. She made

coffee and cooked bacon. The smell moved through the

cabin to Charles and woke him. Autumn helped him

move to the chair next to the fire. They talked for hours

before he grew tired. Instead of the air mattress Autumn

moved him into the bedroom and the comfort of the soft bed. She left the door cracked in case he needed her

then she left him to is physical mending with sleep.

Charles did not wake again that day and Autumn wrote.

Wrote with a new found spirit, the words flowed from

her as if she was possessed by a person she did not

know. She grew tired of setting, in the office chair and

moved to the chair by the fire. Think and staring into

the fire her thoughts drifted to the man in her bed. What

life did he live before the crash? What secrets did he

carry? The writer in her imagined a life for him. A life

full of love and happiness, void of the sorrow of a loved

ones death. In her imagination their lives interwove and

became one. Then she heard his calls. She stood in the

door way watching and listening. He was dreaming,

replaying the night his life changed, as she had many a

night. Nightmares of the past. Then the crash replayed

itself in his dreams. She cried for the man, felt his pain.

Standing there her heart melted some more. The cold

wall she imprisoned herself in, started to crumble. She

crossed the room and slid into bed, not wanting either of them to be alone. Chapter 5 Morning found them curled together and his

temperature up. On the way to the kitchen she realized

the fire was about out she took the time to rekindle it

before starting her search for antibiotics. She crushed

them and forced them down the sick man and placed a

cold cloth on his brow. Please don’t die she prayed.

Walking to the window she pulled back the thick drapes

and saw the snow had stopped, but not before it had

build it’s self over the car. She would not be able to get

help today. She walked and tried the phone, a dead line.

The mid morning found the temperature rising outside

and the snow melting. Unfortunately so was Charles’.

Autumn bathed his burning body in alcohol, placed

cold packs on his wrists and worried. His delirium

returned with talk of Angels and the heavens. More

antibiotics and chicken soup. That is all she knew to do.

Hours passed and his temperature fell. Charles was

awake and feeling better. He sat in bed and was eating.

He thanked Autumn for her nursing ability and her

kindness. Secretly she thanked him for falling from the sky and being trapped in the cabin with her. Night fall

found them in the living room sipping Crown and

watching the fire. Small talk was made, both in their

own thoughts. Charles leg was a little better and was

getting himself around the cabin un–aided. Autumn had

went out earlier and found two branches about the same

size from the fallen tree which changed her path, which

took her up the mountain to find the wreckage and the

man. She taped dish towels into the forks of the

branches. Makeshift crutches. They woke the next

morning as they had the last intertwined, seeking

warmth from each others bodies. This time no high

temperature. Charles woke first and lay there looking at

the woman who had saved his life. Dark auburn hard

half covered her face. A sprinkling of freckles crossed

her nose. During the night his arm had moved to hold

her close, his hand cupped her breast. She was long and

lean, an athlete once in her younger years he guessed.

Long tan legs, one lay next to his the other had made its

way from under the cover. The long t– shirt she wore had shifted during the night up to her abdomen, giving

him a peek show of her white panties and flat stomach.

He was afraid to move, did not want to wake the

sleeping beauty beside him. Lust grew inside him. A

fantasy begin playing in his mind. His need for her

grew with each breath she took, the heaving of the

breast he held, she moved then, rolled toward him. Now

the covers revealed more of her body to him. He ached

for her now. He drew her to his chest. The smell of her

only fueled the fire. When she woke she looked for

him. He had slipped from the bed. Autumn lay there

remembering fragments of a dream. Of being loved by

Charles. Chapter 6 They spent the day watching old movies on

the DVD and eating popcorn and drinking wine. He

discovered she was a writer, and felt honored when she

allowed him to read what she was working on. He even

gave her a couple of ideas on the story which she took.

Her fingers flying over the keys. They spent hours at

the computer. When finished she smiled, and changed

the the title page to “Music in the Wind”, authors

Autumn Vest and Charles Rawlins. Autumn always

celebrated with a steak dinner and wine when she

completed a book, a tradition she said. She went to the

freezer and removed the steaks to thaw. She seemed

lighter now somehow to him. Like a burden had been

removed. She moved through the cabin straightening

and searching for things to make dinner a special

occasion, a celebration. Candles were placed on the

table. Computer removed and placed on the desk. More

frozen wood brought in for the night. Her work done

she retired to shower and change clothes. Left alone his

mind returned to this morning and the feelings she had stirred in him. Not since the death of his wife just a few

weeks ago had he even thought of having another

woman. She returned, beautiful. Hair down and curled.

A form fitting dress. An Vision in lust was before him.

She surprised him with clean mended clothes, and

polished boots. A bath was run for him. She left him to

start dinner. Getting into the bath was not the problem

getting out proved more difficult, but he managed. The

hot soak did his body good. Relaxing tense muscles.

Standing looking at himself in the mirror he realized it

was the first time since the accident that he had. In need

of a shave. Only a faint hint of bruising remained on his

face. This hands had peeled revealing pink new skin, all

was healing nicely. Autumn was very much surprised

as he walked into the kitchen. She had been lost in her

own lustful thoughts while preparing dinner. The man

had changed from being helpless to being very sexy and

virile. The candles lit and music playing on the stereo,

they set down to a wonderful dinner. Steak cook to

perfection. Cheesecake followed with more wine. They moved to the living room where he placed another log

on the fire as classical music played on. He sat next to

her on the couch, she had removed her shoes and sat

with those long legs curled. He bent to kiss her and

thank her for the wonderful dinner. They drank wine

and listened to music in silence. Each wondered the

same thing, if the other fancied them. He looked at her

then down at his hand resting on his thigh. Her gaze

followed his down. The hand was palm up, fingers

cradled as if waiting for hers. Autumn slid hers into the

spot he had made. He squeezed lightly that was the

beginning they both needed. As the music played its

somber notes they melted into each other on the couch.

Thoughts of pass loves vanished as each reached a

climax. They stayed there until early morning watching

the fire in each others arms. This morning when Charles

woke Autumn was beside him, again they were

intertwined. Laying lean hip to narrow shapely one his

thigh pinioning her long legs to the bed. His arms, one

under her head the other across her chest framed her beautiful face. His dark eyes staring at her. He woke her

exploring her body. Kissing her once. With the touch of

her perfect mouth he was lost. The longings of the days

prior reconciled into a need that was undeniable. His

mouth demanding, his tongue searching hers. The sweet

taste of her mouth was like candy to him. Desire buried

in remorse and pain, now released in a primal passion.

He had to have her. Not just for the moment, not just

the day, forever. One hand grasping her hair, the other

supporting him above her he bent his head for another

taste of her lips. The heat of their bodies, the scent of

her, fueled him. The promise of a man to a woman.

Provocative, wicked discovered delight. He drank

deeply from her kisses and her body. Each time he

withdrew he entered deeper into the well of delight.

With each thrust he teased and caressed with his lips on

hers. Outlining the pout of her lower lip. Taking his

time. Autumn matched him kiss for kiss. The caresses

with a caress, With each unspoken promise from man to

woman she made one to him. His touch was taking her to the boundaries of madness. She experienced needs

beyond her control. A lusting only the man above her

could fulfill. When he would playfully and teasingly

move away she would force him back with her hips.

She pulled him toward her as a cry came from her

throat. The echo moved through him as well. That

primitive cry of passion could be heard over the

mountain.Chapter 7 They ventured outside, stood on the deck and

watched as the snow melted from the trees as they

listened to classical music. The sun glistening. The sky

blue. Rebirth had come to them both. Peace was on the

mountain. Neither of them thought to check the phone.

They did not want the spell of the mountain and the

music to be broke. They hiked to site of the crash. He

stood in silence as he surveyed the scene. They both

wondered how he even survived or how he managed to

so few injuries. Charles walked to the fuselage of the

plane. It’s insides were charred nothing recognizable..

He was lucky to be thrown from the wreckage. He

could have died on this mountain. I may have not found

him for days. Standing there together in silence, each

lost in thoughts we hear the music faintly from the

cabin. As we turn to head back, we both left our old

lives there. Buried in the snow, left to melt away with

the thaw. Steam from the shower was warm and

soothing. Charles was in the kitchen making chilli for

dinner. Standing there in the shower with taps off I wondered what I would find when I walked through the

door. A new life with Charles, or did he take the time

alone to leave with the snow melt? She hoped he

stayed. The cabin was silent, too silent she thought as

she stood in the bathroom drying herself. When she

opened the door candles burned. They were

everywhere. On the dresser and setting on the floor. A

bewitching ambiance took over the room from the

wavering light of the candles. Charles stood in the

doorway with the remote for the stereo in hand the

music started. He stood there naked. Pouring wine into

glasses. His body promised a carnal need would be

fulfilled. Debora’s heart fluttered at the sight of him and

because he had not left. Shivering under the fierce

intensity of his eyes her cheeks blushed. Her desire for

him was there for him to see. Charles thought her proud

and beautiful standing before him in the candle light.

He ached for her. Under the night shirt she wore, he

knew her to be naked. Had this moment been

preordained. Her being here on the mountain alone. Struggling with her own demons from the past. He had

noticed she had not experienced the nightmares the pass

two nights. Yes she had told him all this afternoon

when they returned from the crash site. She had noticed

it also. Sound sleep had returned since he had been with

her. She spoke in a soft voice, telling him she never

thought she would love another man. Charles went still.

“I shouldn’t want you, I shouldn’t love you”, she turned

her head as if thought, then turned back to him,”But I

do.” Her fingers curled at her side, she looked

unguarded and vulnerable to him. Charles set the wine

glasses on the dresser and came to her. She was in his

arms, her lips were on his. Her hands on his face,

holding him there. A soft cry from her revealed her

need for him. A barrier lay between them. His hands on

her shoulder now, they moved slowly down her sides

and held the hem of her nightshirt. He pulled from hers

lips long enough to remove the shirt over her head. He

kissed her while cupping her face in his hands. He felt

the heat of her mouth meeting his and lost himself in her passion. Lifting her into his arms he carried her to

the bed. Laying her gently on the bed he stood and took

a moment to stare down on her. “My Love,” he

whispered. He knew he meant these words. All his

adult life he called women by pet names or generic ones

like sweetheart or babe. He never before spoke of love,

not even with Grace. Their son had sealed their life

together. Love, a word meaning a condition of the

heart. As she drew him down to her, down to her

embrace and kisses, he knew the condition of his heart.

Desire and passion reaching into the heart of his soul.

He settled her over him, her long hair encased him as

she bent to kiss him. He reached for her. She caught his

wrist, keeping him pinned to the bed. No fight or

struggle did he make. She imprisoned him in her velvet

trap, keeping him captive for a while as she looked into

those dark eyes. Looking at their bodies joined and their

contrast in the candle light. Tan skin against dark,

strong and less strong, feminine and she could feel

aroused masculinity. Desire meeting desire. He meant to speak, she covered his lips with hers. The pain and

pleasure he felt left him wanting more. Once more he

suffered enticing punishment from her. Her kisses and

caresses. He could stand no more, he overpowered her

game and drew her down beneath him. “My turn to

play,” his voice rough and gentle. Pinning her wrists to

the bed. When she went to speak it was his turn to

cover her mouth with kisses. The sweet torture, each

time she went to protest his prolonging of the

lovemaking she was meet with kisses. He took his time.

His roughened but gentle fingers stroked the length of

her throat, down her breast bone to the valley between

her breasts. There eyes glued to each other, searching

into each others soul. He cupped and suckled her breast.

With each stroke of his tongue she signed and wiggled

against him wanting more of him. When the passion

could not be contained, with bodies ready they came

together. Bodies in time with the music, a shuddering

cry came from them both. He held her long into the

night. Watching her sleep. When the clock showed the time of the sunrise she woke and turned to him. She

made love to him with the sun’s rays warming the

frozen earth. The last candle died as they sleep. When

she woke he was gone. She looked around the room,

nothing had changed. Burned out candles sat on the

floor and dresser. The light of day still shone through

the window. She looked out the window from the bed,

the sky was blue. She had never slept so well. She felt

refreshed. She readied herself for a new day. A shower

first then coffee. The cabin was empty. Silence, left her

feeling lonely. Autumn wandered the cabin while

coffee made. She wore jeans and a sweatshirt and thick

socks. She pulled on her boots and carried her cup of

coffee to the back deck. He was there watching the

birds and the melting snow. It was not until she touched

his shoulder that he knew she was there. As he turned,

his face was solemn. “Good morning sweetheart, or

should I say good afternoon?” He took her in his arms

as they enjoyed the warmth of the sun. She let her hand

skim over the muscles of his back. When she looked up at him he touched her face. She took his hand and

brought it to he lips, he watched as she parted lips and

moved over each fingertip. Gentle fingers that had

know her intimately. She remember his caresses from

the night. She let her hands drift down his chest, down

to the muscular abdomen. She hovered at the band of

his jeans, she kissed him When he reached for her she

danced away. Knowing the look in his eyes as they

moved up and down her body. He reached for her again

again she danced away. He grabbed her shirt and pulled

her to him. Kissing on the lips and neck, caressing her

body through the heavy sweatshirt she wore. His first

attempt of it’s removal failed. She moved to fast and

was inside the door. He followed and was surprised to

find her standing there naked from the waist up in front

of the fireplace. Bluejeans unbuttoned and unzipped.

The few steps to her found him stripped of clothes.

“Sweetheart.” from his lips was all she needed. A single

word, simple word, but carried all the desire they both

felt. His body embraced hers and trembled with the force of his need. Rising over her in front of the fire.

His fingers stroked her dark hair he looked into her eyes

and saw love. This is how he hoped she would look

every morning when she woke. This is how he would

remember her looking in his heart. The look of love, of

lust and passion. Forever burned into his heart.