"Are there wolves?"

The Davies, Joe and JoJo, smile at each other before giving Brad a grin. Before they can answer further, the cabin comes into view in a little clearing in the woods. Amy, the Davies' daughter, Brad's fiancée, runs ahead, her skirt aflutter, her long legs flashing in the midday sun. "Oh, Brad, come see! It's just like I remember."

Inside the log cabin, small and snug, a fireplace faces the door. Brad sets his backpack down and looks first thing for bedrooms, but there are none, just two big beds, one to either side of the fireplace. Joe and JoJo come through the door, still smiling, now holding hands.

But there is work to be done: wood to be gathered, paths to be walked, streams to be fished, bugs to be battled, and in the deep shade of ancient pines, amid the twitter of songbirds, kisses to be kissed.

"My mom said I was conceived here."

Amy's mom's "Oh, there you are!" interrupts the whispered confession. "Dinner time."

It's the best Brad has ever eaten. "Brook trout and blueberries and more blueberries for dessert." A wine airy as laughter. "I think you ate my fish," Amy teases Brad. "I know I had yours. The big boy." From the deck they watch lingering sunlight caress the tops of tall trees, blaze through inner boughs, sink into the swell and swallow of the night.

"Time for bed," Amy's dad says.

"Where?" Brad's eyes say.

"Silly," Amy's kiss says.

Shuffles, creaks, and a cascade of giggles come from Joe and JoJo's bed.

"Can we?" Brad's fingers ask.

Amy's legs part in answer.

Outside the wolves howl, but inside all that can be heard are the slippery sounds of sex, the mounting moans and cries of love.