The drum called out to her ... pulled at her ... seduced her until she felt that her heart beat in time to its ancient rhythm. A stray breeze drifted across the African Savanna, touching her skin, soothing her after the day's furious heat. Even with her hair pulled up, she could still feel drops of perspiration on her neck and back. April paid little attention to her discomforts. Her attention was on the man who'd entered the circle.

He wore nothing but a loincloth, revealing every curve and contour of the muscle rippling beneath his coffee colored skin. The man's long black hair was worn in dreadlocks, adorned with a multitude of colored beads. His smooth features were marred by four stripes of white paint that ran from his forehead to the bottom of his chin.

In the center of the dance circle was a pile of green wood. The man stepped into the kindling.

The drum grew louder, more erratic. There was an explosion of color as dancers in traditional dress began to move around him, their movements synchronized to flow in complete harmony with each other.

At the center of the dancers, the man moved his hands above the wood and an instant later fire erupted. The flames surrounded him, licking at his exposed skin, but he seemed not to notice. Within the fire he danced, his body moving with the vibration of the drums.

April's gaze followed his every movement. Holding her breath she waited for the fire to consume him, disintegrating his flesh. It felt as if she had been hit with an electrical current, and she realized he was watching her through the flames. Their eyes locked and for that fraction of a moment April became aware that he was probing her mind, his spirit connecting with hers. Heat spread through her body as sensual images intruded in her thoughts, images of lying beneath him, her flesh against his ... moving to the most ancient of dances.

The Fire Master pulled his gaze away as if her essence had burned him in a way that the flames had failed to. Through the blaze he watched, marveling at her simplistic beauty that brought to mind thoughts of golden sunshine and images of carnal lust. There was something about her that set his blood on fire.

He held his hands suspended above the flames and lowered them as if he were pushing down an invisible barrier. The fire was extinguished. His body showed no signs of injury.

There had been little doubt in April's mind that he would walk away from the ritual unscathed. It was why she was in Africa. When she'd first heard about the Fire Master April had dared not believe it. Nevertheless she had followed the stories about him.

Mabasa was a master of fire ... and he was a healer. A healer ... the word filled her heart with a hope that had once lain dormant within her. Did she truly have the courage to allow her faith to blossom?

Could Mabasa succeed where countless doctors had failed?

Suddenly her resolve gave way to uncertainty. Had she been foolish to dream of being healed? For the past three years April had saved every spare penny she'd earned so she could make this trip, now she found that she had lost her nerve.

A finger poked her side and she looked at the young boy who had been her guide.

"Talk to Mabasa," Iniko said with a wide smile.

April's heart warmed toward her guide. Since arriving in Africa, Iniko had been like a breath of fresh air. She could sense that he was pure of heart, something she had rarely come across in recent years. There was no doubt that his parents must be extremely proud of him.

She had hoped one day to have a child like Iniko, but those days of dreaming of a family were long gone. April had years ago accepted that she was damaged goods and not wanted.

Iniko jabbed her again. "Talk to Mabasa."

Mabasa stood just outside the entrance of a thatched roof lodge. Even from this distance April could see that he was eyeing her curiously. Briefly she wondered if there was something about her that stood out that much from the other tourists.

Taking a deep breath, April tried to rise. Seeing her struggle, Iniko held out his hand to her. Smiling, she accepted his help only to the point that she was steady on her feet. April then rested some of her weight on a single crutch.

Frowning, Mabasa watched the scene unfold. Her presence had wrapped around him since the moment he'd seen her. She had sparked a yearning in him that he'd long ago forgotten. Mabasa had to cut short the show as he could not concentrate with her so close, watching him ... silently calling out to him. Though he'd tried to block her out, his body responded to her nearness and he'd been afraid it would become obvious to all who were present.

Even now her soul was crying out to him to ease her pain and he'd known that she would approach him, though he hadn't known what her affliction was until the moment she'd tried to stand.

He'd been taken back, for she was not the usual western tourist seeking a show, nor was she like the aging and failing bodies that usually came to him. No ... she was like a bird with a broken wing, still struggling to fly.