The hum spread outward like ripples in still water, soft at first - barely there - then growing deeper, stronger, like a heartbeat syncing to theirs. It wasn't just in the air now; it was in their bones, their breath, the throb of their limbs still aching from love and reverence. Jude lay in the center of them all, surrounded by warmth and skin, and that steady rhythm pulsing in the distance like the island had learned how to speak their names in sound.
Grace was the first to rise, slowly, her nude body kissed by the twilight light filtering through the trees. She moved to the center of the grove, her glowing feet barely making a sound in the thick, velvet moss. Her fingers reached out and brushed the black-gold bark of the great tree. The symbol on it pulsed once - twelve circles and a thirteenth at the center - and as she touched it, her eyes closed.
"She's listening," Grace said softly.