~|¤|~ In the Wind ~|¤|~

Author’s Ramblings: Hi y'all! This is my first time writing an original fic, so bear with me. One of the names is taken from Tamora Pierces' books. I'm just warning you now, this is gonna be a long story, so…I hope you like to read.

Disclaimer: Ha! This time I do own!! Well, except for the one name thingimabober… ^_~

Chapter One: Losing Yourself

Keladry Donovan was too caught up in the seductive beauty of the ocean and sunset to realize that the tide was creeping up on her. Earlier, when the light had begun to slant and deepen into late afternoon, she had picked her way out on the rocky point below her house, set up her camera, and settled in to wait for the moment when the sun would set fire to the serene face of the sea.

She had been so eager to capture the one moment she had spent weeks trying to get that she had gotten herself trapped on the rocky outcrop with thousands of dollars worth of photographic equipment.

But before she had realized her predicament, it was the rush of waves bursting against the rocks that had held her attention. As the evening swept toward the outer rocks, Ry (A/R: Pronounced "Ree".) counted out the seconds between the rhythmic waves. When she sensed the light and time and wave would finally be right, she braced herself more securely and let out her breath. At the exact instant the fluid curve of the water met the rocks, she triggered the motor drive on her camera.

Well beyond the six-hundred-millimeter lens, wave met rock. Water exploded into creamy cataracts. Fountains of iridescent bubbles licked over black stone.

That was the moment she longed to capture.

Ry lost count of the waves, of the times she triggered the camera, of the rolls of film she loaded into the Nikon's compact body. Her legs cramped, protesting their unnatural position. Until the light was gone, she wouldn't allow anything to break her concentration on the changing images pouring through the long lens into her camera.

Beneath her practiced, calm motions, excitement threaded through Ry. Her trademark was the kind of photos that made the viewer stop, stare, and reassess reality. She knew the shots she was taking now would be some of her best work, combining stark light and shadow, elemental textures, and the changed perspective that possible only with the use of a very long lens.

With no warning, water leaped up over Ry's perch. A cold diamond spray stung her legs. The cramps had been more painful, but they hadn't threatened her camera equipment. Seawater did.

Pulled back to the present, she raised her head, blinked, and focused for the first time on the world outside her camera lens. When she looked back toward shore, she knew that she had stayed too long on her rocky perch.

The thirty feet back to the beach might as well have been thirty miles.

The path to shore was gone. What had been a tricky journey out beyond the tide line was now a witch's brew of surf, foam, and slick black rocks. To keep from being swept off her feet by the powerful waves, she would have to cling to rocks with teeth and fingernails. Yet she needed her hands to hold her expensive photographic gear beyond the reach of the sea.

Water foamed up toward Ry, then hissed down the hard rock. In the reflected glow of the drying sun, the wet stone looked like a primitive sculpture of hammered gold.

For once, she didn't enjoy the rich light. She looked at the water with clear grey eyes and the cut-your-losses attitude of someone who had made a mistake and knew it.

"Damn!"

She had worked herself into a tricky little trap. Even if her hands had been free, she would be lucky to keep her feet underneath her on the trip back to the beach. But her hands wouldn't be free. She had thousands of dollars worth of equipment to carry, equipment she needed to earn her living.

Equipment she couldn't afford to replace.

Ry didn't look around for anyone to help her. She was used to being on her own, and dealing with her problems on her own. Reluctantly, she decided that two trips would be necessary. She set down the case that held camera bodies and smaller lenses. Holding the big zoom lens over her head, she cautiously began to climb down from her rock.

Never once did she notice the rangy man who had been trying to catch her attention from midway up the beach.

Hands on his hips, James Danvers shook his head in disgust and gave up trying to shout his way into her attention. The lady with the great legs and fiery, French-braided hair must be deaf as well as crazy. There wasn't a chance in hell that would get to the sand before she was trashed by the surf.

James started toward her at a run. And as he ran, he wondered if the rest of her matched her legs. Doubtful, but a man could always hope.

At least I can get one worthwhile thing done today…he thought, running a little faster as he saw the woman sway dangerously against the deceptively frothy waves.

Author's Ramblings: Okay, I know how that last part looked, and I promise, this fic will not turn into a sickening Mary-Sue-damsel-in-distress story. To find out how, you should review, *hint, hint*, and tell me what you think. I already have chapter two written. Oh yes, I apologize for any grammatical or spelling errors. They are all my own.

Peace, love, 'n crème puffs,

-Star