Cozy warmth was enveloping her, comforting her, and for a moment Catherine was transported back in time, feeling like a child, safe in her own bed with her mother close by. Suddenly something was there, hovering over her, touching her to snatch the warmth away, and she spun around instinctively, catching at that something, gripping it firmly. She heard a sharp intake of breath and her eyes flew open, widening in shock as she found herself face to face with a stranger. His features were shrouded in darkness since he stood with his back to the opening that connected the cavern with some mysterious source of light. The shadows playing across the planes and angles of his face made him appear otherworldly and unreal. Never before had she seen anything like him and her weary mind didn't even try to come up with an explanation for what she was seeing.

Gradually her vision adjusted to the meager light in this place and she could see him more clearly. His gaze was locked to hers and it took her several moments to realize that the expression on his face betrayed something akin to panic. There was a flicker of pain in his eyes and only when he dropped his gaze to her hand did she notice that she was still holding his wrist in an iron grip, her nails digging through the fabric of his sleeve. She released him immediately, relieved when he took a step in retreat, but his eyes remained locked to hers. Gradually she became aware of the heavy garment that was wrapped around her and it dawned on her that it was his, that he had covered her with this peculiar cloak to keep her warm.

Catherine rose to her feet, puzzled by the emotions tumbling trough her as she studied his face more closely. His nose was broad and furry, his upper lip cleft and muzzle-like, and his chin and cheeks were bristled with soft-looking stubble. He didn't speak, obviously giving her time to digest the sight before her.

She shrugged off the cloak and held it out to him. For a long, endless moment he simply stood there, ignoring her gesture as he kept staring at her. He was probably studying her for any signs of fear or repulsion and she was amazed to feel neither.

"Who are you?" she heard her own shaky voice, her arms aching under the weight of the heavy garment.

No answer was forthcoming and for a moment she wondered if he was capable of speech at all. She watched as he reached for his cloak and then lowered his head, his long saffron mane concealing his features.

"I'm Vincent," he said simply as if that would explain everything, and in a way it did. The moment she heard his voice she knew that he was the one who had warned her from the pitfalls ahead of her when she had dropped into the shaft. Her mind started to form questions and she had to close her eyes in order to gather her swirling thoughts. His intense stare did nothing to ease her plight. Those deep-set eyes had an unsettling quality to them and she wondered fleetingly what they might look like in the full light of day.

"You belong to them," she stated at last. "You came after me to take me back."

Vincent shook his head. "These tunnels are dangerous for someone who is not familiar with our world. I wanted to keep you from harm."

Catherine pondered his reply carefully. "How far would you have allowed me to go? What if I had found my way out? Would you have allowed me to leave?"

"You wouldn't have found your way out," he said, and she was under the impression that he kept his voice carefully neutral.

"Then what?" she asked. "Are you telling me I would have wandered these tunnels until I'd have died of starvation?"

"I wouldn't have let you starve," he replied.

She frowned. "I'm glad to hear that. I'm afraid I'm getting really hungry."

He stood there motionless and for a moment she wondered if he had heard her, but then he smiled, a half-smile that came more from his eyes than his mouth, and Catherine could honestly say that she'd never seen anything like that smile.

She had told him her name was Catherine. No last name, just Catherine.

He understood that she needed to feel in control of the situation at least to some degree, and to keep her distance helped her do just that. He couldn't help but admire her courage. She didn't seem to be afraid of him, not at all. Probably because she had recognized his voice and knew by now that all he wanted was to keep her safe. But suddenly keeping her safe wasn't enough anymore. He wanted her to be comfortable, and that was something she couldn't be down here in a place like this - with no light and no freedom.

His heart ached for her and he raised his head to glance at her again.

He was surprised to find her gazing at him silently. Normally people avoided looking at him after they had gotten over the initial shock of his appearance. Catherine however studied him intently and he had to make a conscious effort to meet and hold her gaze.

"Do they know where I am?" she asked.

"I don't think so," he replied carefully.

She made a study of her own hands. "They didn't send you after me?"

He shook his head no, almost glad when she fell silent for a while.

"Will they come for me?" she finally asked.

"I told them I would see to it that you are safe," he replied evasively.

"What do you mean you told them?" She stared at him expectantly, knitting her brows together in a dubious frown.

Vincent hesitated, momentarily uncertain how much to tell her about his world. Finally he decided that the more she knew about it the larger the probability that she would understand and protect it.

"We can send messages across the pipes," he began. "It's a type of Morse code. It's vital for us to stay in contact all the time. Life below ground is not without perils."

She pondered his reply for a moment. "Will you tell me more about the community you live with?" she asked at last. "And how you...." She paused and he could feel her sudden unease. "...came to be with them?" he offered. "I was an infant when I was found and brought to Father who raised me."

Vincent was surprised how easily words came to him. There was a little voice in the back of his head that warned him to be more careful, but he ignored it. In this case he had to follow his instinct, and deep in his heart he knew that the woman who sat before him, listening to him attentively, would not betray his world...or him. He had to make her see...and she would understand.

"What are you going to do with me now?" Catherine asked, studying the man with the unusual face intently. She noticed that his features were very mobile and able to express a large range of emotion. His eyes clouded and he looked away.

"I would like to guide you back to the home tunnels," he replied carefully, "but if that is not what you want, we can stay here - apart from the community."

"Since when do you care what I want?" Catherine said defiantly.

His gaze snapped back to hers as he replied in a low voice, "I do care."

Now it was her turn to avoid his eyes. He sounded so sincere and for a moment she felt strangely ashamed for testing him, provoking him. Quickly she shook off the thought, reminding herself that he was practically her captor.

"Please understand," he continued. "Our community is very vulnerable. We protect it through strict rules every member has to abide by at any cost."

"Then maybe it's best you take me back," she suggested softly. "There's no point in wandering about underground if there is no way out for me anyway."

He gave her a slight nod and she could see his relief at her decision clearly displayed on his face. Thoughtfully Catherine studied his profile as he stared at the far off wall. This man was fascinating not because his feline features but because of his extraordinary honesty.

His was the most expressive face she'd ever seen in a man. She knew he meant well and even though his actions clashed with what she wanted, she knew he only did what he felt he had to do. He was responsible to the people he lived with, and considering that she was an intruder who had disrupted his routine and his peace, he treated her really well. Yes, he did care, she was certain of that, although she didn't understand why.

Catherine fought to suppress the panic rising within her as she watched

Vincent disappear from her sight. "Don't be afraid," he had told her, "I'll be back shortly." She silently cursed herself for being so obvious. She had tried hard to hide her feelings, not wanting him to know more about her than absolutely necessary. Still the prospect of facing the darkness alone, even if only for a short while, was unsettling.

With a sigh she leaned back and closed her eyes. I should be glad he's gone, she told herself, and yet she missed the quiet presence of him, even though he'd mainly sat there watching her, as if waiting for something she couldn't grasp. Suddenly anger welled up in her. How dare he holding her captive down here in this darkness when she needed the light so badly. The urge to find a way to get away from this place, from him, grew overwhelming. Straightening with sudden resolve she reached for the lantern he had left with her. Carefully and as soundlessly as possible she made her way towards the mouth of the tunnel they had just come through. Its darkness terrified her but she knew she had to overcome her fear in order to get back to her own world of daylight.

With one hand she felt her way along the rough walls of the corridor while she held up the lantern with the other. It wasn't helping much, the darkness was too absolute. When she came to a turn, she put down the lantern and wiped her forehead with the back of her hand. A headache was hovering around the edges of her mind and she closed her eyes for a minute, trying to relax. When she looked again, she detected a soft, misty light in the distance, as if just around the bend were an opening, connecting the underground world with the world above. Catherine picked up the lantern and walked on, concentrating on the ray of hope ahead of her.

The light was becoming brighter, but the tunnel was suddenly at an end. A beam of light slanted in through an opening way overhead. Catherine felt her heartbeat accelerate as she assessed the wall before her for hand and footholds. Finally she started to climb, heedless of how brittle the rocks beneath her feet were. She slipped several times as stones crumbled under the soles of her sneakers, but she was so intent upon reaching the source of light, the opening she hoped would finally lead her to freedom, that she paid no attention to it.

"Catherine, no!" Vincent's voice was the last thing she heard before the ground beneath her feet gave way and darkness enveloped her mind.

There was a hollow pain throbbing in his head as Vincent tried to sit up. Somebody had covered him with his cloak and supported his head with a garment. A jacket. Catherine's jacket. He moaned helplessly as the events came back to him. He had just spotted her climbing up a path that no tunnel dweller in his right mind would have used, when the rocks began to crumble. He remembered rushing to her aid, but beyond that...there was nothing. No memory at all. Vincent strained to make out anything in the darkness, and when gradually his eyesight cleared, he realized that the entire corridor must have caved in and buried him alive. But where was Catherine?

Obviously she was well, he thought as he felt for the soft fabric of her jacket. Who else could have put it under his head? The thought that she had taken care of him warmed him. But where was she?

He straightened but a sharp pain in his side made him wince and shrink back to his initial position. Carefully his fingers probed along his ribcage. There was a warm stickiness that alarmed him. He could feel that his vest and sweater were torn, but before he could lift his hand to remove the cloak and take a look at his injury, he became aware of the changes the cave-in had created. Slowly he raised his head and stared at the slope of rubble and debris before him. One would only have to get up there and follow the light to reach the outer tunnels that would eventually lead above. Vincent's heart constricted in his chest as it dawned on him that this was probably what Catherine had done. She had gotten rid of him at last. With a ragged sigh of resignation he tried to struggle to his feet. He had to reach the pipes and tap out a call for help.

"Please don't move."

The sudden sound of her voice all but paralyzed him. He must have gaped at her quite oddly because she smiled a lopsided smile as she knelt down at his side. "I tried to find some of those pipes of yours to bang for help, but I couldn't find any," she explained softly, taking his hand between her palms. "Does it hurt a lot?"

He wasn't sure if it was the concern in her voice or the fact that she had stayed or simply the beauty of her eyes as she looked at him with a worried frown, but suddenly his chest felt wide and he could breathe more easily for a moment. He shook his head.

"It is bearable if I don't move," he replied hoarsely.

"What can I do to get help?" she asked, her eyes wide and full of compassion.

Slowly he extricated his hand from hers and started to tap softly against her knee. "Please try to memorize that," he said, repeating the code. She copied it over and over again until she got it right. He felt almost proud of her as he nodded his approval. "Now tell me how far you've been earlier when you tried to find pipes." He listened to her description and then began to give her directions, all the while wondering how he could possibly endanger her like that, but he knew he had no choice. He couldn't walk. He could hardly breathe. He needed help. Quickly. Looking after her as she left him, he craned his head as far as he could without aggravating the pain too much. There was a feeling inside him that soothed him, a feeling besides gratitude and admiration, a feeling that didn't come to him too easily. Trust. Closing his eyes, he thought of other times when people had held his life in their hands. Their faces blurred and blended into a single one - one he could have gazed at forever.

Catherine felt strangely shy as she entered Vincent's chamber. The man they called Father had allowed her a brief visit, warning her that Vincent had been given something for the pain and would be sleepy. She crossed the space between the entrance and the large bed, never taking her eyes off the still figure who lay there, apparently asleep. For a moment she stood looking down at him indecisively. There wasn't much she could do. The old man had reassured her Vincent was fine, or at least he would be as soon as his ribs were healed.

This is all because of me, she thought. If I hadn't run away, if I had trusted him...

"It is not your fault." Vincent's voice was slightly blurred from the medication, but it was still deep and resonant, and she felt herself react to it in an unexpected way. A tingle went down her spine and she blushed.

"I...wanted to thank you," she managed at last. "Father allowed me to see you for a few minutes. He said you are going to be all right soon."

A smile tugged at one corner of Vincent's unusual mouth. "I certainly will be. I heal quickly."

"I remember that you covered me with your body when the rock wall came down," Catherine said thoughtfully. He didn't reply at once, but then he shifted his position slightly to look at her more directly. "You could have escaped, Catherine. You could have left me there and made your way above."

The blush was back, but this time Catherine knew exactly what caused it. She felt ashamed. "I must confess the thought crossed my mind," she murmured, studying her hands. When she looked at him again, she found him smiling understandingly. "Don't blame yourself for that. We aren't always responsible for what crosses our mind. Our responsibility lies with the way we act on our thoughts."

Catherine watched as his features sobered. She met the serious expression on his face with a frown. How could she have distrusted this man, especially after realizing that it had been he who saved her life after her drop into the underground world? She wondered how people might react to seeing him for the first time. Did they fear him? Did they see the intelligence and sensitivity in his eyes? Were they able to sense the man he was deep inside? Or did they find his unusual appearance so repulsive that they didn't even bother to try?

His eyes were closed now and she took the liberty of studying his face very closely. A wave of unexpected tenderness rushed through her as she took in his fatigue and his vulnerability. Tugging at his blanket to cover him more fully, she made a vow to get to know him as well as she possibly could.

She was glad about her decision to stay below until she could convince the council of her trustworthiness. She had promised not to attempt any further escapes and she was still puzzled by the enigmatic smile the old man had given her at that.

Catherine let her eyes wander across the room. She thought of her own apartment and how different it was from the assembly of odds and ends down here. Still the room exuded an aura of coziness and was testimony of an awe-inspiring mind that had collected a vast variety of books to appease its hunger for knowledge.

She didn't know how long she had been sitting like that, deeply engrossed in thoughts about her life and in speculations about the man who was sleeping in the bed before her. She wondered how he had become the person he apparently was, soft-spoken, educated, and with a healthy self-esteem despite his unusual appearance.

"You're still here." His voice was quiet and hoarse.

She smiled. "Did you sleep well?"

"How long have I slept?" he asked disoriented.

"I'm not sure. I lost my watch somewhere down there."

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

"You needn't be sorry, Vincent," she replied. "It was my fault. I should have heeded your words and stayed where you told me to."

He didn't respond to that. His eyes were still closed and she could see that speaking had exhausted him.

"Why are you still here?" he inquired softly.

"I promised to stay until the council decides it is safe to let me go," she said.

He struggled into an upright position and looked at her with surprise.

"Is that what Father asked of you?"

Catherine shook her head. "He didn't ask anything of me. It was my decision."

Vincent lay back again, wincing when his wound made contact with the mattress. "I'm certain Father and the council know it is safe to let you go anytime now."

She shrugged. "He didn't say so, and it doesn't matter anyway. I want to stay until I know you're well again."

He sighed and closed his eyes again. "That's not necessary. It really isn't. Your family will worry about you."

"I'm going to write a letter to my dad," she hastened to explain. "I'll tell him I'm going to stay with friends for a while. He'll accept that.

He always does. Actually the letter was Father's idea. He said he'd see to it that it gets in the mail."

There was no reply and when Catherine leaned forward to look at him,

She saw he had fallen asleep again.

The days Catherine spent below passed quietly and peacefully. The tunnel dwellers were gentle people who kept to themselves most of the time, but in the evenings they got together, sharing simple meals and exchanging stories about the events of the day.

The few times she got to spend with Vincent were the most precious moments for Catherine. He had healed quickly just as he had predicted, and after a few days he was able to take up most of his chores again.

Vincent appeared to value his work as a teacher above everything else.

Catherine loved watching him with the children. She was on her way to the study to return a book Father had lent her when she heard voices coming from the school chamber.

"No, the world doesn't have an end," a young voice piped out. "The world is like a ball. You can go all around it."

"It does have an end," another of the children contradicted. "If you start out at one point and travel around the whole world until you come to that point again, that's where the end of the world is. Isn't that right, Vincent?"

Cautiously Catherine peeked into the room, instantly spotting the tall figure among the eagerly talking children. "That would be the end of your journey, Nick," Vincent explained patiently. "Not the end of the world."

The children were silent for a while, obviously absorbing the idea.

"And what if you are on the other side of the world?" little Timmy asked.

"Won't you fall off when you are hanging with your head down?"

The older children laughed, but Vincent gestured for them to stop. "I don't think it will help Timmy if you are merely amused by his idea," he admonished gently.

"I can explain it to him," Geoffrey offered, beaming with pride when

Vincent encouraged him by nodding his approval. Then his head came up and he met Catherine's eyes over the children's heads. Rising to his feet, he crossed the chamber, and Catherine couldn't help but think how smooth and soft his movements were for someone that big.

"I hope I'm not interrupting your lesson?" she asked, but Vincent shook his head.

"I don't think anyone concerned will mind too much," he said with a glance at his students who put the unexpected break to best use by chatting freely among themselves. "It is time to dismiss the class anyway," he said, walking back to his desk. Immediately the children's attention focused on him again. She watched as he talked quietly to his students who started clearing away their school things. Catherine stepped aside to let them pass. They greeted her cheerfully as they filed out of the chamber.

"The children are remarkably well-behaved," Catherine observed as she looked after them.

"They are a blessing," Vincent replied. She turned her head and caught his gaze as he watched her attentively. "Would you like a cup of tea?" he asked suddenly.

"Very much," she said, pleasantly surprised. The opportunities to share some time with him were rare. Everybody down here seemed to enjoy Vincent's company just as much as she did. On entering his chamber Catherine was struck anew by the unique atmosphere of Vincent's private quarters.

"Please feel free to browse," he invited her as he set to prepare tea.

Catherine started wandering about the room. Reverently she trailed her fingers along the spines of the books, ending up with a small volume in her hand as her gaze returned to Vincent. Catherine wasn't really aware of the book she had picked. Lost in thought she watched Vincent going through the procedure of boiling water and pouring it over the tealeaves. The fringes on the sleeves of his tunic swayed with each smooth movement he made.

She couldn't take her eyes off him as he worked in silence, handling the teapot and cups as if he were performing some ancient ceremony.

Her thoughts drifted and she was assailed by images that floated through her mind like memories. Memories of something too far away to exist. It felt like remembering the last shreds of a dream before they dissolved and vanished completely.

Suddenly Vincent turned and looked at her and for a second she wondered if he had picked up on her musings. But he just looked pointedly at the book she was holding in her hands. Putting it down, she took a seat.

Vincent set the steaming teapot on the table and sat opposite her. He met her gaze calmly and with a slight smile in his eyes. Catherine was surprised yet again how easy it was to simply smile back at him.

No words were necessary. People down here were familiar with silence. It didn't make them uncomfortable and no one felt the need to fill silences with idle conversation.

"Are you interested in palmistry?" Vincent asked as he poured her a cup of tea. Puzzled by the question, Catherine's gaze fell onto the title of the book before her. "The Truth In Your Palms" she read. "I'm afraid I don't know enough on the matter to be interested in it," she said, laughing. "What about you?"

Vincent frowned. "I'm interested in everything that might hold answers," he said evasively. He rose and walked over to the shelf, retrieving another book. He leafed through it and finally opened it.

"Do you want to know what the future holds?" Catherine asked quietly.

His head snapped up and he gave her an enigmatic stare.

"No," he said. "I'd rather know something about the past - my past." He put back the book on the shelf and returned to his chair. Without thinking Catherine reached across the table and touched his hand. She wished she could take away the pain she had glimpsed in his eyes for a moment before his guarded expression had returned.

Vincent covered her hand with his free one and turned it to bare her palm to his eyes. Without being able to explain it, Catherine felt suddenly very vulnerable. She endured his silent scrutiny wordlessly and a little nervously. It was as if he were looking directly into her very being.

Slowly Catherine closed her hand into a fist and withdrew it from him.

She rose and walked over to the geode of crystal quartz she had noticed on his shelf earlier. He followed her and his long tapered fingers gently traced the surface of the beautiful piece. Palms forgotten, Catherine watched with fascination as he lifted the geode and turned it before her eyes so that it sparkled in the soft glow of the candles.

"Isn't it incredible that something like this grows in a world of

darkness?" he asked. Catherine's heart constricted with the wistfulness apparent in his voice.

"It is beautiful," she whispered, unable to take her eyes off his face that betrayed a childlike joy she found very endearing. "Where does it come from?"

"A place we call Crystal Cavern," he replied. "Sometimes I go there when I've lost my way." There was a wistfulness in his voice and Catherine felt a tug at her heart as she imagined the beauty of the place.

When Vincent became aware of her silent regard, he put down the crystal and glanced back to the table. "Your tea is getting cold," he said, inclining his head.

Catherine smiled as she returned to her mug and took a seat. She thought she had learned quite a few secrets about Vincent tonight, even though she didn't know anything about palmistry at all.