Chapter 1

Harriet delighted in her morning ritual; this would be her first time outside since the departure of what now passed for winter. Dropping her robe, she slid open the door and stepped out, a zephyr ruffling her auburn hair, caressing her skin. Beneath her feet, the morning sun had warmed the patio slates. Spring had arrived, tingeing the eucalyptus trees red with new leaves and casting a purple haze over the massive jacaranda behind the house. Looking east, Harriet saw whitecaps glinting in the sunshine on the distant bay. The derelict husk of the lighthouse stood black against the glistening sea, a silent sentinel above the submerged town.

Before her, a paddock dropped to a wild hedge of wattle, banksia and grevillea. Harriet stretched, inflating her lungs and flowed into movements that owed something to Tai Chi, to yoga and perhaps to ballet. Eyes closed, the sun warmed her. The gentle breeze chased cooler tendrils over her skin. Her body flexed, deepening her concentration and widening her senses. The grass in the paddock shared its slow spring dream of growth. Her awareness spread; quicker lifeforms flickered into view. Pink and grey galahs whickered, nibbling the grass, wary of the sky and its potential threats; a pair of sulphur-crested cockatoos jousted in aerobatic play, revelling in their flight and game. Still further out, her goats nibbled the sweet, fresh shoots.

She sang a shifting, sliding melody, an accompaniment to and driver of her sensual movements. The zephyr toyed with her, stroking her skin, teasing her buttocks, stomach and breasts. Waves of goosebumps followed, lifting fine body hairs which fed their sensations back into her aroused skin. Her areoles crinkled as her senses roamed wider, blood flushing her nipples.

The hedge hid a wombat burrow, deep and dark. She tasted the warmth of the mother-joey bond. An echidna, long snout raised, tasted the air for a female. Harriet’s labia swelled as the teasing of her skin aroused her further.

Her sense pushed wider.

There ... there, in a distant wattle thicket, was something ... new ... different. No simple animal mind caught in the eternal now, but one sending a tendril of sense back to her. It fed into and from her. They spiralled towards some unseen pinnacle. The link strengthened, speeding their shared sensations. Harriet’s movements lurched towards abandon; her skin absorbed every touch of sun and air, slick moisture sliding down her vulva to her thighs.

They fed from each other’s arousal. Harriet sensed his cock harden, a quivering drop of lubrication at its tip. His tongue caressed his lips and she linked the sensations back to him. He fed back to her the burning pleasure as she pinched her nipples.

They resonated, their mutual lust amplified. Sensations twined, each feeding the other’s flame. Harriet’s awareness surged outwards as her body convulsed. Hot liquid flowed down her thighs. She felt his seed burst from his cock and watched his eyes track its curve to the ground. Again. Wracked by ecstatic convulsions, she collapsed, gasping onto the patio stones. Harriet lay brimming with the energy of their reinforced, mutual orgasm. Conscious thought returned through the endorphin glow.

Such strength, the equal of hers. And it was a man.

Wonder fought with fear: males brought conflict, danger. This male had taken her energy and amplified it, stretching her senses further than ever; As she peaked, she had felt a pod of dolphins playing far out amongst the waves, but her horizon contracted as the shared energy faded.

Struggling to her feet, the shared orgasm echoed through her. She probed towards the thicket. At the edge of her usual range, she found him running towards the crumbling highway above the abandoned town. She tasted his fear, but thrilled at his desire.

Would that pull him back or his fear keep him running?

Harriet thought back over their encounter; dangerous levels of energy filled him; if he did not soon learn to manage those, it would consume him and those around him.

She grasped the door frame, steadying herself as she re-entered the house. Lost in thought, she dressed for the day’s tasks: the solar panels, both hot water and electric; a wipe down would clean off lichen and bird droppings and then the vegetable garden to weed and encourage. But first the goats needed her attention: she sensed the growing discomfort in the udders of Calliope and Erato, her two milkers. Apollo’s interest in one of the young females was growing and almost without thought, she dampened his interest: mating would be on her schedule, not his.

With the goats milked and their precious gift stored in the fridge, Harriet climbed on to the roof. She scrubbed down the solar collectors, surveying the surrounding land. The few houses were descending back to nature. Most buildings had already disappeared under the burgeoning lantana that heaped across the landscape. Only her assiduous destruction of its scouting roots had kept it from her lands: eating it would poison her goats. She did not enjoy blighting a living organism, but lantana was a problem.

Away to the south, her nearest neighbour was distant. Harriet sensed Joy and her daughter, Samma, witches like herself, going about their day. They met on infrequent special occasions; the meetings coloured with residual fear of the plagues that had emptied the land.

Of the few women Harriet had met, most were witches like herself. The plague had affected female brains in ways that she and others were still exploring while killing most men.

Until this morning, she had not known it had affected some of the remaining men.

Joy greeted Harriet with characteristic sadness. She exemplified the danger surrounding the few remaining males: raped before she summoned the strength to kill her attacker. Her daughter Samma was a delight and yet evoked bitter memories.

Harriet scanned the area, sensing no other humans: the male had kept running.

Down from the roof, she used her stored mental energy to encourage vegetables to grow as she weeded amongst them. Now and then she paused, sending her senses across the surrounding land.

As the sun set behind the hills, Harriet closed and checked the doors and windows of the house. She had brought the goats close to the house, reinforcing their inhibitions towards eating her fruit and vegetable garden. Apollo stood guard duty over his flock and the house. Even though the batteries showed a healthy charge, Harriet decided against lighting the house. In a dark landscape, light drew unwanted attention. That male – and any companions – could still be around beyond her range, but not beyond seeing a light in the dark. She prepared a quick meal of salad leaves, sweet cherry tomatoes, goat’s cheese and cornbread, eating as the light dwindled.

In bed, Harriet revisited the morning’s contact. The sudden, escalating contact left her a passenger on waves of sensation and energy. The experience left her unable to react, only experience.

She shook herself; next time she must control and direct the contact. An active male was a serious threat. Lying in the darkness, guilt assailed her: she had not passed a warning to Joy, but such news might tip her into another bout of deep depression. Tomorrow, she would speak to her – and then walk northward the few kilometres needed to contact Alison. They would spread the warning further. She would need to monitor Joy and perhaps visit if her reaction soured. Samma was still a girl and lacked the mental resources to pull her mother from such darkness.