4 comments/ 32161 views/ 23 favorites Stormfeather Ch. 01 By: TaLtos6 This is set in the New Mexico Territory in the 1870s. I needed the location for some of the story points and a couple of now-extinct animal species. I hope it's as enjoyable to read as it is to write. ---------------------------- He slowed his pace as he neared the rim of the dale. He'd been on the road for so long that the prospect of an actual arrival now felt strange to him. He stopped and looked over the valley. It didn't look like all that much, he thought. He'd seen many more inviting places. But this one was where he'd felt himself being drawn to for so long. He'd never been here before, but he knew that this marked the end of his long pilgrimage. This was where it had begun for his kind. This was where the first of them had come from on this side of the world. He took off his pack and set it down with his bow. His large equine friend sidled up to him to nuzzle his hand. Turning, he smiled and rubbed the great jaw, though inwardly he was a little annoyed with himself. He'd forgotten about the horse. What he'd do about him hadn't come to mind yet, but he hoped that something would soon. There was no reason to hurry now, no matter what faint urging he felt in his heart and he had no desire at this point to sever the only friendly relationship that he'd had with an animal since he'd become what he was. He sat down by a tree and rested as the large horse began to forage. It didn't matter much whether he arrived today, tomorrow, or ever, really. It was difficult to get a sense, but he was fairly certain that she wouldn't be here. He hadn't heard her call in his heart for such a long while. He pulled out a piece of dried meat and began to chew on it absently as he thought back to the dark agony which had culminated in more of a beginning than the end that it really should have been. ---------------------- A great deal of time and so many journeys detached him from where and how he'd begun. The only child of an unwelcome man and a chief's daughter, he'd never been allowed to fit in, as much as he'd tried. With the death of his maternal grandfather, the right of his mother to lead had been usurped by another and they'd been forced out of the band, leaving with not much more than their few things – and the daughter of the new chief who'd torn herself from her own family because of her love of him. If her father could have accepted it – and that plainly could not have happened - they might have made it, he remembered sadly, but that act had likely sealed all of their fates. Whenever one assumes the mantle of leadership, one of the primary requisites is the ability to care for one's followers and look forward for the common good. It was a quality which the new chief had no cognizance of. While he seethed with ever more hatred toward the outcasts, he failed to recognize the threat to his band from one of their traditional enemies. The band which he led had never been large, and their numbers had not increased enough to replace the losses from the unfortunate conflict with the men who'd come in longships a generation earlier. While Stormfeather took his mother and bride far from where they'd grown up, their tribe lost two key battles with their enemies and ceased to exist, other than the relative few who were taken as captives. It was only a matter of time before the outcasts were discovered as well. While he was off hunting to keep the three of them fed, their tiny camp had been discovered and his mother's identity as the former chief's daughter took little time to ascertain. As traditional enemies, the two women had been tortured before they'd been murdered. It had caused his return the next year to exact the vengeance that his mother's spirit had pleaded for when it had spoken to him on his return from hunting. When she'd shown him that he possessed this ability years earlier, he'd never thought that he'd have used it to learn who had done these unthinkable things, though he wasn't surprised. With the last of the killers dead, he'd almost crawled back to the ashes of the women. He was torn, badly wounded and wanted only to pass on himself, but it had only marked the turning of another page in his long and strange life. A traveler had come to him then and cared for him, holding him back from death's door. He awoke in something of a dream state. Nothing seemed solid or real to his fevered brain, nothing but the beautiful woman who was there with him. She told him that she'd known of his struggles over the winter and the spring. She'd watched him as he mounted his campaign of vengeance for those who had been taken from him. Stormfeather thought that she must have been a goddess of some sort, but she smiled and shook her head. "I am only another traveler," she'd said in her strangely stilted speech that left him calmed but missing at least some of the meaning, as she held his head up to feed him some hot broth. "I believe that you are one who is being sought because of a foretelling. If so, then someone like you has something ahead of them to live for. I can see this in you. But to do this, you must go on. I need to know if you want to." He shook his head, "What is there to go on to? The only ones who loved me are dead. The ones who I grew up with hated me. There is nothing... no one..." he said as he lost consciousness again. Awakening the second time, he found that it was night, and he was covered with a fur. He looked around as far as he was able to in his weakness, and peered in the direction of the quiet sounds that told him of the coming of someone. What he saw a few seconds later was more of a two-footed animal than a human. There was some sort of beast who walked upright. When it – she – saw him, she came nearer and knelt on one knee to touch his forehead. Stormfeather wasn't afraid. He didn't care for his survival, but he was taken by the wonder of her and tried to sit up. "Lie back and rest, warrior," she smiled, "you are still caught in the fever from your wounds." "You-you are..." The face smiled, "Your eyes are clearer, though you see through the sickness. How do I look to you?" He stared in wonder. The braids, the beads, the breechcloth, everything about her told him of a human past, but her features were of something else entirely. "Why do you not wear a woman's clothing?" he asked weakly. The answer she gave began with a smirk, "This is much better to travel in on the paths where I must walk," she said, "There are many peoples on the land. Not all dress as the women of your band. Where I am from, this is what women wear." He fell silent after this, wondering where she had come from. "I think you like me," she said with a nod, "no matter how I appear to you. The time has come for you, warrior. You must now decide if you want to go on or if you still wish to die here. I have waited three days and nights for you. Any other man would be long dead from what you bear. I have only tried to make you rest, but you are running out of time. I can save you, or I can let you go. You must tell me what you want for yourself." "What do you want of me?" Stormfeather asked. She stood up and placed the things that she'd carried down in several places. He couldn't see what they were. "I am very old," she said, "and I have traveled far, looking for one such as you. When I found you, you had a family in your mother and your woman. I watched for a time, and moved on. When I came back here, I had been following you as you hunted. I have been watching you since then. What I want, warrior, is to be known as the one who found you." She was out of his field of view for a moment, but when she returned, she wore the same things, but was now a human woman with the same soft voice and warm smile. She sat down next to him and began to eat something. He realized that he was hungry and said so. She laughed softly as she held out the food to share it, "I think that your body has already decided things for you. Shall I take your body's answer, or am I to listen to your fever as it tells me to let you die?" "If you can help me, will you stay with me?" "I can only stay with you for a time," she said, "I must go to my home. But if you live and grow strong again, I think that I will stay long enough to see that day before I leave. When I come to my home, I will call to you. Have no fear, you will hear my call. If you come, and are willing, then we can journey together to a place where there is much magic in the ground. That is where we must go." She looked at him a little wistfully and said, "I am not the one who must walk beside you when you enter that place. That one does not live yet. The next part of the prophecy - if it comes to pass - will be her birth." She pulled the fur from him and her face lost its humor, "Decide now, there is not much time for you anymore." He was never sure why he'd done it, but he told her that he wanted now to go on living. She nodded with a smile and got on with the business of bringing him back to health. She was busy, he could see as he watched. She had small fires where she burned aromatic things which kept the air slightly smoky. To block the wind, she erected walls out of animal skins strung between the trees. With herbs, plants, and her own hypnotic voice she kept him in a trance state as she pulled out the many broken arrows and dug for the ones which had broken off inside of him. After many hours, she lay down with him and spoke softly to him of her people far to the southwest as she wiped his sweat from his forehead and body. He drifted in and out of consciousness. His world became one of dreams and nightmares. Whenever the nightmares shook him too badly, she came to him there in his dreams as well. He would awaken now and then to find that she was still with him there in the small space between the trees. There were more and more piles of brush piled up near to the skins to keep the wind out. Several times he awoke somewhat startled to find her above him as she rode him gently. Every time, as soon as she became aware that he was awake, she would smile and speak softly to him about doing this for them both. It forced the heart to work and the blood to move, she said. If he was the one being sought, she said, then she wanted this as a reward to herself for the work of healing him. He asked her how she had roused him without his knowledge, but she smiled and said that if she had the need, she could raise many things. Those times had been blissful release for him. There was very little lust in the act between them, only enough to drive it and not much more. He was too weak, but she told him that it was more than enough to pleasure her. She said that if she wanted it, a hard ride was an easy thing for her to find on her travels. But to do this with him for hours was what she wanted now. He woke one night feeling stronger to find her there in the dark flickering light of the fire squinting at his wounds and working the pus out of the ones where she judged the time to be right for it. When she was finished, she sat back on her pretty haunches and said, "If I stop here, you will live to grow as strong again as you once were. There is one last thing to do, and it will cause more pain than anything else that I have done to make you well again. It will make you far stronger still, and much closer to both the spirit world and the animal one. I need to know if you want to go to these places." She stroked the side of his face and then leaned in to kiss him. "You will have to take this step. We cannot stay together for long if you do not." He nodded, "I am ready for this, but first you must tell me more about yourself. I have lain here in a world between my dreams and what I see around me. You are always in both of them to keep me safe. But I know nothing about you." She sat up a little and began to weave long thin braids here and there in his hair as she told him that she had been born a princess in another land. Her tale told of her privileged upbringing and the wealth which surrounded her. The place where she came from was far to the south. She'd learned to hunt for sport rather than food, and she'd learned more than enough to keep herself alive in the absence of that wealth. There had been several years of drought and famine, and the people clamored for more and better sacrifices to their gods. Finally, the priests had told her father that the gods demanded a sacrifice which affected the royal family itself, since they had thus far not sent any contributions in the way of human sacrifices. Of all of her sisters, she was one chosen. The trouble for her was that she had long before watched the suffering of her people and knew that there were no gods – not like what the priests taught to keep their soft and privileged way of life. She noted bitterly that none of the priest's daughters had yet had their hearts carved out of their living breasts for the god's pleasure. As she waited for the dawn of her last day, she was visited by a traveler much like how she had come to him. Over the course of the night, he taught her that her people were not the center of the world, they were only another people in the same world as everyone else, and that she'd been correct. Whatever god or gods there were, they had no interest in human sacrifice. She gladly accepted his offer and by the dawn, she was somewhere else, and more. She'd become something else as well, and later returned to hunt the priests themselves, carving out hearts as she went through their ranks. When she asked Stormfeather again, he nodded, and she changed her shape there beside him. "My heart is full of joy for all of us, then," she said as she moved his hair aside and lowered her head to his shoulder. He felt her arms gently pin him to the ground and then he felt the pain of her bite. She moved her head a little to let her teeth sink into his flesh and then he felt her tongue slide over the wound thoroughly. When she sat back on her heels, she wore his blood around her mouth. She wiped it off quickly and caressed his face. She hadn't done anything but bite him to pass her saliva to his blood. She waited and stayed with him as he progressed through his first change. The pain that he felt as his body changed the first time was beyond excruciating. He felt as though he was being torn apart, and in truth, he was. Muscle groups and tendons managed with only partial success to follow the shifting shapes of his bones. Internal organs were squeezed into different sizes and shapes inside him. But the princess with no name remained with him, holding him and offering her soft encouragement. The next day, he changed many times, each slightly less traumatic to him than the one before until he could make the changes himself at will. She told him of a very old place where the ancient people who had lived there had left long ago, but where there was magic in abundance. That place, she told him, was where all of their kind must go. It was where the first of their kind's young had to be born if they were to survive naturally in this world, because to walk in that place was to walk in another world of magical power. It was the gateway to their holy land, a portal where they could choose to remain in this world or move on to the next. Humans could be changed and live, but their changeling offspring had to be born in that place or in the holy land beyond. She stayed with him for the next week to offer him guidance in the paths and ways that he would need to know to survive comfortably. But the one thing that she would not now do was mate with him. That, she said, was for their reunion and then once they had come to the sacred ground, there she would love him as they would both want, if it happened, and if the foretelling had been true, the one who would walk with him would by then be waiting for him and she would take her leave to watch them go on together for the benefit of all. ------------------- Stormfeather came back to himself as he looked out over the valley. He'd never fully understood what she'd said of a prophecy and how it might concern him. He remembered her final words to him the last night. He would lose her in the tracking of her, but he would sense her calling to him one day. It would mean that she had come back to her home. She would begin to call to him from there as she made her own journey to this holy place that he now saw as a lump of rock rising out of the plain in the distance. She said that her call would bring him to her and that they'd meet up somewhere on her way here. ------------------- The next morning, he awoke alone. She'd been right, he thought. He did lose her trail as he searched in vain. It had taken many years, but he did feel her calling him and it drove him toward where he supposed that she was. But then it had stopped one day quite suddenly. He kept on in the same direction. His travels took him down into the United States long before they were even true settlements, barely colonial attempts and certainly not united in any way. He made his way through Mexico and Central America, down into what is now Peru, coming at last to see the final days of the Inca people as they struggled in vain against the Spanish conquistadors. All that he got from that was that it was the place where she'd grown up. He turned then and went back north, feeling a different, far older call to this place. He'd actually passed it by and gone deep into the American plains for some time, but finally gave in to the gentle call to move on and turned southeast once more. ----------------------- Picking up his bow and pack, he whistled for his friend and together they walked down the slope to cross the valley. If this was where he had to go, he thought, well he'd better get on with it. He could feel the magic of the place and it was some comfort to him, but he didn't think that he'd find his princess there. As he walked up the rise to the old burial grounds of the many other tribes who had lived here over the centuries, he shrugged to himself. This was where she'd said that they all had to go, sooner or later. He thought that he must be on the later side. He'd been trying to find her for over seven centuries. Now that he was coming to the end, he didn't much care if he found her or not. It wasn't quite true, he admitted. He just didn't know what he'd do if he ever met her again. After all of this time, he felt there was a good chance that he'd seize her and hold her to his chest and never let her go again. Then again, he might just give in to the other urge that he felt for having searched this long and do his best to tear her to pieces in rage for the long years of solitude. The horse stopped and neighed to him nervously. He was uneasy in this old place of death. The man smiled and gave him the sign to wait. He shook his head as he walked on. After some of the things that they'd been through together, he was surprised that the horse would be nervous in this place. Walking among the dead, he followed the traces of mist that he saw curling over the ground to one of the caves. He looked at it for some time, and came to the conclusion that this was where he had to go to continue his journey. But he didn't go inside. If this was the next part of his life, he thought that he was in no hurry now. He'd spend some time saying goodbye to this world in case he could never return. He found a vacant cave nearby and decided to make that his home for the next little while. It took a bit of doing, but with his soft words of encouragement – and a few oats – he got his friend into the sheltered place and settled for the night on the lush grass which grew near the grave mounds at the other end. Stormfeather Ch. 02 I wanted a pretty confident female lead for this one. The story just called for it and I've placed her in a rather male-dominated period. She doesn't give a damn. ------------------- Amy Monaghan rode down the main street of Portales in something of a foul mood. The one pleasing thing to her was that here in this place, she could ride with her long red hair free since she was known to the inhabitants of the town. If there was a drawback, it was the fact that the day's heat caused her mane to stick to the back of her neck, but it was a small price to pay for the luxury of it, she considered. Most often when she traveled, she had to hide her hair under her hat. The result was less than pleasant to her and there was the side-effect of the sun on her pale skin back there. She sighed; her mother had called it the curse of being a red-head. She frowned at her own grumpiness. It wasn't like her at all, but then neither was the hangover that she was presently nursing. It made riding more of a torture than a means of transportation. There were a few other contributing factors, she allowed, not the least of which concerned her having buried her father the previous day. But the truth of it was that there were several others, not all of them bad, necessarily, but in her present state of mind the level of thought that they required was taxing. Right now, she'd have had her hands full with just the one. Her family's history from her perspective seemed to be too short and far from sweet. Her father had led something of an adventurous life in his own youth, having been born into a family with at least some money. A restless sort, he'd spent time on both sides of the law, and his travels had led him to occupations as varied as a cook, an army trooper and a sailor. This last had seen his eventual rise to the captaincy of a trade clipper, which was the nice way to say it to anyone who might have asked. Mostly, he'd been a bootlegger. Having made his fortune and knowing that nothing can last forever, he'd made one last Atlantic crossing, collected his young Irish wife and small son and taken them about as far from the call of the ocean as he could. To him, that was here in the New Mexico Territory to start a farm. Amy had been born when her brother was ten and though he told anyone who would listen that his little sister was a personal curse to him, he loved her dearly. For her part, Amy worshiped her father and lionized her brother. It made the shocks of their departures from her life all the harder to bear each time. Her brother had tried to tell her of his reasons for joining the Confederate Army in the waning days of the Civil War, but at the age of twelve they made no sense to Amy. It was after his reported death fighting the Union Army that she decided that for the most part, he'd done it for a bit of adventure and to see at least a little bit more of the world than the backs of the team of plow horses that he'd felt shackled to. Amy's mother had taken the news even harder than she had, and died after a bout of fever over the next winter. Whatever boldness she'd gotten from her Pa, it was her mother who had contributed to Amy's sense of stubbornness and passion towards whatever things she felt passionate toward. Her ability to look hardship in the eye and toss it a wave of jaunty acceptance had come from that direction as well – that, and the green eyes which could either wilt an adversary or make them want to laugh in joy, depending on the way that Amy chose to level her gaze. Amy's assumption had been that she would finish her grade schooling and then live on the farm with her Pa. It had started out that way with her helping him as best she could while soaking up his patient teaching of the many skills that schools just didn't have in their curriculums. Things such as the ability to quickly size up what one was up against and to formulate at least a preliminary response to it had benefited Amy to no end many times. To her Pa's delight, Amy loved to ride and absorbed everything that he had to show her. Without the arguments of his deceased wife against it, he'd turned Amy into a girl who could ride with the best of them, track and hunt as though Diana the huntress herself was by her side and hit whatever she aimed at with a firearm. Amy was a natural at shooting and could rob a snake of his eyes at three hundred yards and better. At fifteen, Amy had been happy. But it didn't last. Amy had suddenly found herself living with her great aunt Maeve in Santa Fe. Her father wanted her to rise above dirt farming and his own aunt could provide that for her better than he could. All of her begging and tears changed nothing. It had helped that Maeve doted over her great niece. She was from what Amy supposed was or had been the rich side of the family. Maeve often said that they'd all been as crooked as any other old money back in the day. Amy had attended a well-connected finishing school and Maeve made certain that Amy knew how to carry herself in the highest circles. Amy herself never felt comfortable trudging around in what to her resembled not so much a fashionable garment as perhaps a mobile tent in which to hide and restrict a female. She was happier in pants and boots, and if there was a horse involved, well that was almost bliss. She'd gotten through the school earning top marks for herself from almost the first day. Close to the end of that, the headmistress had taken her aside and offered her a teaching position, since there was an opening. Amy had accepted it and taught school in the mornings for the next couple of years. The hot afternoons were spent either with her great aunt, or tutoring the children of some of the wealthier families around town. Maeve's house was large and rambling, and Amy had permission to use the drawing room for her teaching. With her every need seen to by her great aunt, Amy's earnings had piled up handsomely. One of the spare stalls in the stable became home to Amy's mare. This was about the only thing that Maeve had resisted. To her mind, a young woman like Amy ought to ride, but more in the fashion of the ladies of Santa Fe's finer families. Amy had taken a pass. It had been a long fight to sweet-talk the old girl, but Amy rode the way that her father had taught her and ladylike be damned. Amy smiled for a moment at the thought, but was then reminded of the other contributing factors to her dark mood. With her father's passing, she was the last surviving member of her immediate family. For a young woman in her early twenties it was a sobering thought, and there were other things now to consider and choices waiting to be made. Only a week ago, the headmistress had called on Amy again, indicating that she intended to retire. It would leave an opening for a new headmistress. She'd made her inquiries and passed on her recommendation. She was asking if Amy would consider the position. For her part Amy would have happily accepted, but she'd gotten word that her father had passed on and it cast something of a pall over everything for her. She'd begged for a month at the outside to consider since she had to settle her father's affairs, and it had been readily granted. Within a day she'd saddled up and ridden off alone to bury her father. New Mexico Territory at the time was still a long way from becoming a state of the union, and it could be argued that it was perhaps more than a little unwise for a young lady to travel alone the four days and three nights of the journey. But for her to travel in the way that would be considered more conventional for women would take even longer. Amy could make far better time on horseback. She just had to hide her femininity a bit. It always made her want to laugh a little to travel this way. She'd been doing it this way before she'd turned eighteen. The truth of it in Amy's eyes was that there wasn't a lot of femininity to hide. As far as she was concerned, she wasn't a late-bloomer so much as she was a non-bloomer. Other than a pair of small lumps on her chest and the arrival of her period at thirteen, puberty to her had been pretty much a whole lot of nothing. Her hips had come in as bony points under her waist and that was it. There had been only one boy who had ever expressed more than the slightest interest in her. The few times that they'd been alone together had been far more frustrating that they were satisfying, at least from her point of view. To put it as bluntly as Amy did in her quiet admissions to herself, aside from the quiet tortured conversation, she'd found the handle of her hair brush to be a far better companion. Carrying off a male disguise was a snap. She just tucked her bright red mane under her Stetson, pulled on a pair of pants, topped that with a small men's style shirt and nobody was the wiser. On the road, she was beyond extremely careful. She never engaged anyone in conversation if she could help it, and to all eyes, she passed as something of a slim youth. If she didn't like the look of anyone who she saw approaching her from far off, she usually slipped off the road at a convenient place and disappeared into the scenery until they'd passed by. And so it was that Amy had ridden out. She'd taken enough clothing to make a decent appearance at the cemetery, and stood in the hot sun as her father was laid to rest. Up until the point where the coffin was lowered into the ground, Amy had it under control. She'd begun saying her goodbyes to the man from the time that she'd left Santa Fe. But the finality of the sight of it brought home to her that she'd lost the last of her closest kin, and the trip back to the now-deserted farm had been awful. What amounted to Amy's first evening all alone in the house where she'd been born had been far worse. Everywhere she looked, she found herself reminded of the people whom she'd held dear. Now the last had gone and she was alone. The sun had nearly set by the time she had cried enough tears as she sat by the fire and came to the conclusion that if she didn't want to join the dearly departed, she ought to at least eat something. By the time her lonely meal was over she wondered how her father would have counseled her about getting over the raw, roughest part of her grief. It had made her laugh out loud a little when it had come to her. She knew exactly what her Pa would have advised. He'd have told her to lock the door, get good and drunk and let it all out. She didn't act on it, though she did make a start. Amy poured herself four shot glasses of her father's whiskey, one for each of them. She spent the rest of the evening sipping quietly by the roaring hearth and weeping softly at the memories which came to her. The first glass had been for her brother, the next for her mother. She'd spent a lot of time over the third glass, and then sat staring at the last, wondering what to think about. Nothing came to her. She wasn't even really drunk she had to admit, since she'd taken hours to consume the first three. At last, she'd thrown it back and forced it down as it burned. If nothing constructive came to mind, she reasoned, perhaps the alcohol would do her the kindness of letting her get to sleep. It might have worked, but somewhere in her mind, some connection had been made to something that had nothing to do with her present circumstances. She slept, but something else was awakening. Her dreams that night had been like nothing she'd ever dreamt before in her entire life. Amy had awoken several times to stare at the dull embers of the banked fire. Each time, she told herself that the whiskey had fueled her visions, but as soon as she was asleep again they began anew. The dreams had been in the third person, as though Amy was being forced to watch events which were, or had occurred in the life of another person. To Amy, he was a singular individual and completely foreign to her. She learned his names, and that he had been an outcast among his kind. Little of what she saw made any sense to her, but she found that she was completely captive in the playing out of the dream. She couldn't help but watch him whether she wanted to or not. He'd been born of a people, but was also the progeny of another race as well. The first contact of the two had not gone well and the mix as it applied to him was something that had always made his life difficult. From his father before he'd died, he learned the ways of existence, of living as peaceful a life as could be managed at all times. But if that proved impossible, he'd been taught the strategies, tactics and the arts of war of a kind that was vastly different from what his mother's people considered accomplished and sufficient for a warrior. Something else that he'd inherited was the size and innate strength of his father's forebears, though the father was long dead before the son had come into his own as a man. It was undesired, but he'd been given something else from his father, something which his father had chosen to distance himself from and so had not taught his young son about. It concerned some rather uncanny abilities that several distant relations possessed. But his beautiful and kind mother had seen the possibilities. Of those few who even cared to know him, only his mother knew of his potential. Her own bloodline had come from the wiser and more shaman-like of her kind. She had other things to teach her only child, once she'd found that his nascent abilities were rising to the fore. Amy watched in fascination as the woman patiently schooled her son in arts which Amy considered to be patently impossible. As a young woman, Amy found her glimpses of the man riveting. He was quietly confident, learning quickly and turning whatever he'd learned to his advantage. At the same time, he was humble and kind to everyone. With a sad twinge in her heart which she couldn't explain to herself, she'd seen him fall in love. Like anything else in his life, that love cost him dearly. Amy strained and tried without success to avert her gaze from the horrific scenes of the brutal and bloody murders of the only ones who had loved him. Watching the effects of his discovery of it on his return from hunting had caused Amy to awaken gasping and trembling with hot tears on her cheeks. But the last time that she'd tried to get back to some hopefully peaceful sleep had been the most visceral of all. She'd seen him hold back his grief long enough to ask things of his mother's spirit. What he learned confirmed his oldest fears. They'd gone a long way to get far from her people, but the hatred of their common enemies had an even longer reach. Her last wish to her son had shocked even him when she'd begged him for vengeance. As her spirit passed from his ability to hold it, he'd given in to his grief for long hours and then built the funeral pyre for the women who had loved him. In the dawn of what Amy knew must have been the next day, he was a different man as he strapped his father's sword and axe across his broad shoulders and traveled even farther away. His mother's killers told themselves that he'd taken the coward's path, but even Amy knew that they were deluding themselves. He spent the winter in solitude and quietly prepared for his return. Amy tried again to avert her gaze from her visions of the next year. It became a long summer of death for many of the warriors of the marauding tribe. One red dawn after another lit the torn and scorched bodies of his prey. What was remarkable to Amy was what she read from his heart. His swiftness was not driven by rage; it was only the granting of his mother's wish that any who had taken part be killed. The brutality of each murder was only the by-product of his efficiency except where he judged it desirable to cause their fear to lead them into mistakes in judgment. The dogs of the tribe were of no use as a warning system. Each day found them asleep near to the carnage and as upset as anyone else at the loss of their masters. Any man who stayed out as a night sentry was counted among the dead the next day. The name which his mother had given him had always been spat at him as though it were an insult. From the captives taken from Stormfeather's band, the murderers learned his background. That summer his name was spoken in dread if it was mentioned at all. Mostly they just used the new one which they spoke in whispered fear. A horrific realization came to Amy as she watched it all. He had no expectation to survive this terrible campaign that he'd mounted; he only needed to finish it. Throughout her visions, Amy felt a strange kind of kinship with him and though she knew that the events before her had occurred a long time ago, she found herself longing for the ability to meet him at least once. That desire caused her heart to quail when she realized that she was watching the showdown which he'd contrived against the marauding tribe's chief. Amy felt the impact and pain of each arrow which penetrated his defenses. She wanted to cry out as she felt each cut of their blades when the range of the fight got down to knives, hatchets, and clubs. To Amy it was incomprehensible how he chose not to use his other abilities, but instead allowed it to become one man against the nine male survivors, the nine who had done the most harm to his women, the nine whom he'd carefully spared all summer for this fight. If there was a technological advantage, it was his use of the old longsword, but what defeated them all was the speed of his reflexes and the power behind his strikes. When it was over, she found that she didn't mind at all as she watched his retribution. He'd kept them all debilitated but alive, though his own wounds were the most grievous. Their women heard their screams all morning and found them still warm to the touch. Amy watched weeping as he made his way to the place where his family had perished. He calmly broke off any arrows which impeded his progress through the trees, coming at last to the place. He painfully lay down and lost consciousness after a time. Amy seemed to be circling above his body as she watched a stranger come to his side and begin to care for him. It went on for days until he awoke to find a two-legged beast who could change her shape into a human form as she wished. The warrior had no fear of her since he was beyond caring about himself, but he listened to her talk to him in a strange tongue as she worked and told him that he needed to live. Amy had no idea what the stranger was, though she admitted to herself that she was beautiful and captivating no matter which of the two forms she had chosen for the moment. It took several more days, but at last the man had acquiesced to her suggestions and as his strength began to return to him, she bit him as she held him down gently. What was clear to Amy was that she took nothing from him, but had only placed her saliva in the wound that she'd created with the utmost care. Amy was astounded at the changes that her bite had wrought in him. He became a male version of whatever being the stranger was. When she was certain that he could manage his own survival, the stranger left as he slept. After that, Amy saw him search for her for a time, and then begin to travel. It looked aimless to her, but she was sure now that he would be fine as he wandered the wilds. Where he was headed was a mystery to Amy. She didn't know what he was now, but for reasons that she couldn't begin to explain to herself, she was happier that he'd made the decision to live on. She caught only brief glimpses of him after that as he traveled. As a man, he'd been unique to her for his strength and his heart. The other more magical abilities made him even more so. But what he'd become had built on these things to such a degree that it was beyond imagining to Amy. Everything about him had become enhanced. Stormfeather Ch. 02 In the morning she remembered everything with absolute clarity and had a fierce hangover as well. She wasn't certain that he lived now, or ever had. Perhaps it really was some strange, twisted imagining that had come out as she slept. She'd never had any dream like this series, nothing as real to her or even remotely as powerful. But Amy found herself longing to see him again. She felt as though she'd been given a weird gift to have had the privilege to have seen him at all, for she'd seen for herself how most individuals who he'd been near never noticed his passage. She wondered about the dreams, but in the light of day it was easy to push them aside as she rode. She had other things to think about now. Whenever she was in Santa Fe, Amy was a proper lady, and mostly acted the part. Here in Portales, there were no such constraints on her. Here, she was known to be a bit of a hellcat to those who tried to cross her. She minded her own business, but there had been a time or two where she'd come to the attention of the law. The most notable had been the day last year when she'd stepped into the saloon to meet her Pa ahead of the appointed time and had put up with the unwanted amorous attentions of a drooling and persistent drunkard for as long as it had taken her to get untangled from his grasp. When he'd picked himself up clutching his injured privates, he'd loudly threatened to kill her. Amy had run out the door into the street and he'd followed her. He was amazed to find her waiting calmly for him in the middle of it. He took a few steps toward her, but she loudly reminded him of his threat as she drew her father's Colt and held it at her side. He took one step more but stopped when she cocked the pistol. By that point, the normal bustle of the square had fallen off to a breathless silence and the quiet click of the old Colt Dragoon's hammer being pulled back under Amy's thumb had mesmerized everyone present. She still hadn't drawn down on him, but stated that she wanted to be left alone and would defend herself if necessary. Whether it was bruised male pride or the whiskey, no one could tell, but he drew his own gun and his last breath right afterward. Amy had been arrested, but the next day, the court ruled in favor of her plea of not guilty by reason of self-defense. The fact that she'd shot her assailant through the eye had not been lost on the bystanders and she was never bothered again, though she restricted her time in the place to broad daylight afterward. This morning, Amy was in town to see her benefactor of that day. She nodded toward a few acquaintances on the wooden sidewalks and dismounted to tie up her mare up outside Judge Blake's office and stepped inside. Judge Clayton Blake was an old friend of her father's and had always taken a kind interest in Amy's affairs. Seeing her in the waiting room, he ushered her into his office and expressed his deep condolences for her loss, though they'd seen each other at the funeral the day before. Amy sat in some confusion as the will was read to her. Within a very few minutes it was clear to her that she'd be leaving with the title to a place that she had no idea what to do with for the moment and quite a sum of money. Until very recently, she'd never thought much about how they'd made ends meet. They'd farmed, sure, but it had never been a large operation. With her brother gone, her Pa had gone on alone working the place, and he'd hired on the occasional help as he needed it. Judge Blake wasn't terribly forthcoming and Amy suspected that he had his own reasons for that, but putting things together in her mind, she concluded that her father had still had quite a bit of his "sailing money" left. She left instructions to have the money wired to her bank in Santa Fe. Amy withheld a bit of the cash and asked the judge if he thought it wise to arrange to have someone dependable and trustworthy look in on the place at intervals and write to her of any problems. Judge Blake suggested the closest neighbor as that someone, and floated the idea that the lower half of the large pasture might be of use to him to graze his own cattle on for payment, if possible. Amy stated that she'd think about what to do with the place later, but she intended to come out once during the summer and then she doubted that she'd be back before the following spring. Amy accepted the judge's offer of some Irish whiskey and they drank a small and quiet toast to the man who had been a true friend to the one-time unknown eastern lawyer who had come west at the suggestion of his old friend. Looking back, Clayton stated that taking her father's advice had been the best thing that he'd ever done, and that as long as he lived, he'd have Amy's best interests at heart. At length, Amy stood up and kissed the judge's cheek and thanked him for everything that he'd done for her father until she'd arrived. She walked out and mounted up. With a smiling wave, she turned and began the ride back to the farm, wiping the occasional tear as she went. On the way back, she stopped in at the neighbor's farm and they settled up over the few remaining cattle. In this part of the world, the term 'neighbor' applied, though the nearest one in this case was almost a mile distant. Amy paid the man for his care of her father's animals the previous week and he accepted the cattle as payment for looking in on the place on a fortnightly basis and writing her regularly on the state of things for the next two or three years. Amy rode on to her farm and sat on the porch for a while before she put on her father's old gun belt and snugged it up to the holes that he'd made there for her to wear it without having to worry about gravity making her look like a fool. After tying the lower part to her leg, she sat down on the porch again with tears in her eyes and slowly loaded the old percussion Colt with patience and deliberation. The simple act of it calmed her and made her feel a little less alone in the world. After her dinner, she started the fire and looked at her father's whiskey bottle on the mantle where she'd left it the evening before. As far as she could tell, she'd done what had needed to be done, and now had another evening and night alone here before she resumed her schoolmarm way of life for a time. Amy gazed into the flames for a moment lost in thought. The question which now lay before her had nothing to do with her own affairs. She found her thoughts returning to the life of the man whom she'd seen in her dreams the night before. She found that she really hoped to dream of him again. The notion seemed impossible to her. Like most people, Amy had no control over the nature and direction of her dreams. They just came to her – or not. The idea of wishing to have a dream of a specific topic or individual seemed absurd to her, but it was what she now wanted. She looked at the bottle again and wondered how much of what she'd dreamt had come from its contents. There wasn't even enough left to get her drunk. She decided that, given her loss and the scope and magnitude of the decisions which lay before her, she'd be justified in sipping her way slowly through the last of what was there. She guessed that there was no more than two shots left and for her that would last the whole evening, now that she wasn't specifically grieving. She didn't want to get drunk tonight any more than she'd wanted it the previous evening. She walked out onto the porch and looked at what she'd inherited. She had no clue what to do with it and so she shrugged after a last look around at the warm glow of the setting sun and stepped back inside to bolt the door. She picked up the bottle and sat at the table before the hearth with the bottle, a shot glass, and her sketching materials. "Well," she addressed the bottle as she began to draw a scene of the distant mountains from memory, "you sure had a strange genie in store for me last night. All I want tonight is to find that one dream again, my glass friend. I don't know if you can do that for me, but I'd appreciate it if you'd try." Amy sketched out three works roughly and put them in her folder to finish in Santa Fe. Sitting back down, she stared into the gently roiling flames in the hearth and sat remembering what she'd seen the night before. It took the rest of the evening, but she finished the bottle and went to bed feeling hopeful to see him again and she found herself yearning to learn more of him. In the early morning, Amy looked like the same young woman as she tied the scabbard for her father's Sharps rifle to her horse and saddled up for the long ride home. She looked like the same gangly youth as the miles passed beneath her horse's hooves on the dusty road. But she'd seen things in her dreams which had changed Amy very slightly and the nature of them forced her to consider them as she found herself picking her way through the afternoon heat for the last few miles on the last day's ride. There was something that Amy found both troubling and vaguely exciting. Riding up the drive at Maeve's home, Amy's mood hadn't brightened, but her great aunt could do that. For an elderly woman, Maeve was still sprightly and spry. She considered every day that she woke up a blessing and treated each one that way, too. After getting her mare into the stable, she asked the hand there to make sure that she was well fettled. Amy took the rifle and her roll up to the house. She asked the housekeeper to tell Maeve that she was home, and for tea to be brought to the drawing room. Amy's mood remained somber over her father's passing – that was true. But the revelations of her dreams required a fair bit of contemplation. If it weren't for the iron constraints of time and space, Amy would have been overjoyed. As it was, the overall effect on her was subdued by other recent events. When she could spare a second for her own idle thoughts, she now often found herself with a very small smile, thankful for one tiny feeling within her breast, and she couldn't even tell herself why or how she knew it to be true. For no logical reason that she could fathom after the days of riding back to Santa Fe – and she'd spent those days sifting it in her mind – she felt a vague knowledge about the man whose life had invaded her dreams. She didn't know where it was that he'd been born other than it was a place where the indigenous peoples had met savage fair-skinned European invaders long ago. The man whose life she'd glimpsed had been a by-product of that clash. Since she knew that it snowed there in winter, it contradicted what she'd learned about the first discovery of the New World. She didn't know how he could do the things that she'd watched him do in her dreams. She didn't know what he'd become after the visit of the other two-legged beast, or where he'd wandered to in the time after that. Amy knew only one thing. Somehow, Amy knew almost without a doubt that he was alive. What had come to her was a lot of what she'd wanted to see. She just hadn't been at all prepared for the epiphany of how it related to her. And it did relate to Amy Monaghan. Very, very personally. Stormfeather Ch. 03 A lot of this is a narrative from Amy's point of view. As such, I struggled with her turns of phrase. I wanted it to come across as she'd say it and so it's written that way. --------------------- Maeve found Amy about fifteen minutes later as she sat pulling her boots off. Amy carefully unloaded both the rifle and the Colt and set them into the cabinet to lock them up. Maeve had by now come to accept her great niece's "cowboy" ways with a matronly sigh. The truth was that she was happy to have Amy home again, and wanted to hear everything about the trip. She was saddened by the passing of her nephew and was cognizant of how Amy might feel and so she did her best to put a bright face to everything. After inquiring about the funeral and getting Amy's condensed version of the proceedings, tea arrived and they sat together sipping. Maeve noticed that Amy was unsettled. She expected this, but there was something more, and so she asked as her great niece began to rattle around gathering her drawing material. "I'm not sure if I can explain it, Aunt Maeve." Amy said as she sat back down with some pieces of sketch paper laid out on a board sized to fit on her lap. She began to sketch furiously. Maeve had always encouraged the girl's talents. She'd often said that if Amy could just bring herself to part with a few of her drawings, she'd have another income for herself. "Well," Maeve remarked, "the beginning is always a good place to start dear, and I'm all ears." "Alright," Amy replied, "but you'll have to bear with me while I try to sort this out as well." Maeve poured them both more tea and waited. "I'd thought that I'd be able to say goodbye to Pa. I had it all set out in my head on the way over. I was even fine all through the stuffy service, not that there were many folks there. It was just hot and stuffy. That was all fine," Amy said, "but once they began to put him into the ground, I felt worse and more alone than I've ever felt in my life. I went home and cried for a long while, and then I fixed myself something to eat, and had a bit of Pa's whiskey before I went to bed all alone in that old house for the first time ever. I thought maybe it was the late meal and going to bed right so late, but I finally fell asleep. That's when the dreams began." Maeve clapped her hands together. "Wait! Shall I call Ximena?" Amy nodded with a resigned smile, "She may as well hear it too." Ximena was Maeve's housekeeper, a lovely woman in her late-twenties. The three of them were more like old friends than employers and the servant and Ximena was Amy's best friend. Ximena and Maeve had both always loved to hear about Amy's vivid dreams, "Go on, Dear." she said, when Ximena arrived. Amy thought for a moment and elected not to tell everything that she'd seen the second night. She'd simply lead them to believe that part of what she'd seen the second night had occurred during the first night. Without the images spread out before them, Amy doubted if they'd understand the way that he'd done the things she'd seen him do. "I saw a man," she began, "I never got a really good look at him that time, but he seems to me to be someone who has always traveled alone. And he is big. Not big in the way that a fat man might be, but just large and muscular and very strong. And smart, Aunt Maeve, very wise in the ways of living off what one might be presented with on the road, only he rarely takes any road, whoever he is." Ximena couldn't help herself, "Is he good-looking?" Amy smiled, "You're such a romantic. Yes he is good-looking. He has long black hair and blue eyes, if you need to know." Maeve was intrigued. She didn't think that Amy's dreams foretold anything or were significant in any way, but they were always so vivid and clear, and they seemed to run along the lines of stories sometimes. "How long was his hair?" For some reason, Maeve thought it was important to know. Amy rolled her eyes, "Very long, as though he hasn't cut it in years and years. It suited him, though. And in the dream he was clean-shaven. May I continue?" Maeve nodded. When she was like this, Amy was certain that she could see what her great aunt had looked like as a beautiful young girl on the far side of the Atlantic Ocean. "Well, he was walking across the plains all alone. It was late autumn, and the wind was cold. The man wasn't wearing much from what I felt, though he was dressed and he wasn't cold at all. He was traveling, but he was also keeping an eye out for something to hunt for dinner." Maeve was confused, "Was he white, or brown, or red or blue? Did you get a feeling of his kind?" Amy shrugged, "A half-blooded warrior from somewhere where it snows in winter -- that's all I know. I know he has blue eyes in the dream. Anyway, it doesn't matter. He saw something up ahead of him and quickened his pace. He was hopeful of a meal, maybe, but when he got there, he knew that he wouldn't be eating that night. It turned out to be a mare. She was down alone out there giving birth, but the foal was large and it had gotten stuck." "Oh my," said Maeve, "What happened?" "Well, the mare was tame and had gotten loose somehow. It was miles to anywhere. I felt that she'd just left to get away and have her foal. She was very afraid of the man, but he tried hard to calm her. It took him a while, but she did calm down. He's very kind to animals mostly, though he rarely has any of them around him. They're all afraid of him. He understands this and doesn't mind. He just knows their ways very well. He knelt down and covered his chest and arms with dirt as best he could so that if he could help her with the birth, she wouldn't reject her foal because of his scent. It took him a long time, but she finally passed the little one, and he helped the foal to her mother so that he could nurse." "The problem was that she'd been so long at it that she'd gotten very weak. The man looked all around in the cold wind for some kind of fodder for her. He did find some and stayed with them. The mare tried to get up, but couldn't anymore. The foal finally found his legs, wobbled about and then tried to canter, but the mare only grew weaker." "That's not good," Maeve said, "for either of them." Amy nodded, "He buried the afterbirth to hide the scent and stayed with them for most of a week. He'd leave now and then to find food for them all, but didn't dare to be gone for very long. After a couple of days, the foal would try to follow him, but he was patient and always brought the colt back to his mother to nurse. If the colt was nursing, he had a chance to forage for them. He had some water, and he gave almost all of that to the mare. The mare would eat, but never very much and she just got weaker. All of this really bothered the man because they'd been there far too long. He'd nap now and then, but his fear was finally confirmed when a pack of coyotes found the scent and came calling." "What happened then, Dear?" "That's where this dream gets really strange, Aunt Maeve," she said, "It was looking to me like the end of them all, but the man became very angry at the coyotes. He understands that every animal has a place. He just didn't think that the mare and her foal were getting to have much of a chance. The mare finally died, and he did his best to get what milk he could for the colt into a skin. Then as the confused little colt stood there nervously, the man made a large ring of fire around them. This was on the prairie, remember, but somehow the fire never caught in the grass. It only kept the coyotes at bay. I think it was some kind of magic fire." "The man knew that he had to do something or the colt would die too, so he began to talk to the colt in a low and soft voice. He tried to see if the little one would follow him, and it did, back and forth, so he kept watch, and when the colt had laid down to rest, he put some sort of quieting spell on it and then killed all of the coyotes." "How did he do that, Amy? He cast a spell?" Ximena asked her. Amy smiled, "It's a dream, remember? Here's something strange that I've just remembered," she said as she sketched, "This man, he carries a pack on his back. But underneath the pack, he has very old weapons strapped there. He carries a sword and an axe. The axe, I guess you could use to cut down a tree with, but I got the feeling that it's a battleaxe. And my dream happens here, Aunt Maeve, not in Europe. Who carries a sword and an axe to fight with? Anyway, he didn't use either of them. He crossed over the flames and killed the coyotes with his hands and his teeth. His hands were different, and if he swatted a coyote, it didn't get up again." "A man did this?" Amy shrugged, "That's another strange part. While he was doing that, I don't think that he was a man anymore, but I don't know exactly what he was. Anyway, the mare and the coyotes were all dead, and the man put a blanket on the foal and walked away with his arm around the little one to guide him. If he had been alone, he'd have taken some of the mare's meat to eat, since he was so hungry himself, but he wouldn't do it with the colt there to see. He knew that he had problems now, because while he could live just fine all alone out there, he had another mouth to feed. That's how that one ended." "That one?" Maeve asked, "That was a good story, though a little strange somehow. There was another dream?" Amy nodded, "Yes, the very next night. Shall I tell it to you?" Maeve grinned, "I think you'd be very cruel to us if you didn't, Amy. That last one was one of your masterpieces." "Maybe so," she said, "but I don't try to craft them, I'm just telling what I can remember of them. The second dream is of the same man. It was winter now, and the prairie then is a huge and very cold hell for anyone far from some kind of warmth. The man was walking along and the colt was a little older now and it was following the man. He spoke to it, and I understood the meaning of what he said to it, but the language was not English. The man was still dressed the same -- pretty much nothing. Oh, wait!" She began to sketch faster, very excited now. Maeve was about to ask, but Amy just held up her free hand for a moment, and her great aunt settled back to wait. "You're going to love this, Aunt Maeve. I've just now seen him clearly in my mind. I have to get this down before I forget it again. I see him in two ways and I'm going to try to draw them both. Just be a little bit patient with me." Maeve nodded and sent Ximena for more tea, and there were several minutes of near silence but for the sound of Amy's pencil flying over the paper. Ximena brought in the tea, and Maeve invited her to have some with them. "They were walking across the frozen plain and it was snowing. There was already maybe half a foot on the ground. It wasn't not so much snowing as it was blowing hard. The colt was following along, but kept looking back and whinnying nervously to the man. He looked back and just said to the colt that he saw 'them' and not to worry. They were being followed by wolves." "The man looked ahead and saw a line of trees. It was the edge of some woods, and he knew that they had to reach there, or he might not be able to defend them both. He was worried for the young colt. They were walking quickly, but the wolves were trotting. They'd been on the scent for a long time, and were starving. The man knew this -- he could feel their hunger somehow." Amy continued as the tea was poured, "The man was worried and didn't dare to break into a run, because that would cause the wolves to run too." She held up the paper for them to see, "This is how he looks to me -- when he's a man, anyway. Remember that he has really blue eyes." The two women stared. She'd drawn him wearing a breechcloth and there were leather straps across his wide chest. The straps obviously were for the weapons on his back. The head of the axe and the haft of the sword could be seen protruding over his shoulders. His visage was proud and fierce, but not excessively so, and his black hair was long and hung down onto his broad shoulders. There were beaded leather thongs around the upper parts of his biceps, and one had dark feathers entwined in it. There was also some kind of small amulet hanging from his neck. "That's some hero," Ximena said with a smile, "a really handsome Indian." "I don't know if he is anymore though it's what he began as, he's half-blooded, as I've said. His father was European." Amy said, "I honestly don't know what he is, but I absolutely know that he has blue eyes." "Why do you say it as though he's a living man? I can't say that I've ever seen any man who looked like that -- though I sure wish I could find one like him," Ximena grinned. Amy shrugged, "That's just another thing that I don't know about for certain. And the strangest thing to me is that it's not as though he was a character in my dreams, it's as though I was seeing into his life, somehow. I have the oddest feeling that he really lives somewhere, that he's really alive, though that doesn't make much sense. Look at his weapons. They were the same in both dreams. Indians don't use things like that, well axes, maybe, but not shaped like that one, I don't think." She went back to her sketching. "What are those marks there on him?" Maeve asked. "These? They're tattoos of some kind. He's had them in both dreams. These others, well, they're scars from an old fight that he had. The way that I see him, he's not afraid of anything dead or alive, he just goes on traveling." "What do you mean, 'dead or alive'?" Ximena asked. "He has some very strange abilities," Amy replied, "I know that he can talk to the dead if he needs to know something that they've seen. I can't really explain it. Anyway, the two of them reached the woods, and the man found what he was looking for. There was a small clearing almost surrounded by trees, and he got them into it, and then turned around moving his hands in a certain way, and the trees just filled in, like they'd grown together touching. Now the two of them had some shelter, and a way for him to protect them both. The wolves were not far off now, but he spread a couple of horse blankets down and made a sign for the colt to lie down -- and that's just what he did. He lay down like a lamb. When I saw the man again, he was not a man." Amy sketched a while longer. Ximena wanted to interrupt, but Amy continued, "Sometimes I don't see him as a man, he's, ... he's just something else. I'll have this in a minute or two. You'll see what I mean. In my dream, the man -- or whatever he is, was really busy now. He found some branches that had broken off the trees earlier and he threw them down in the opening of the ring of trees. He made this strange motion with his fingers, and the wood just caught fire. No matches, nothing. Just wooof! The wolves got to the trees, but couldn't get close because of the trees and the fire. The fire didn't catch in the wood of the trees, either. It was as though he controlled it with his will or something like that." "So while the wolves were losing their minds because food was so close to them, he just took one of the packs off the colt and found a skin. It was a skin full of goat's milk that he'd gotten from somewhere, and he sat down to feed the colt. The colt balked at it, but he said that he ought to be thankful, at least it hadn't frozen. When the skin was empty, he dug some wild oats out of another pack and laid it down for the colt. I could tell that he was very happy that the young one was almost weaned. Then he stood up to face the wolves." "How did he do that?" Maeve asked. "He has a staff, a walking stick. He doesn't need one, but it helps him over long walks since he was now carrying a lot more because he had to feed the colt. He turned to the wolves and listened to them snarl, and then he snarled back, only deeper and much louder. He pulled back his lips and showed them teeth that are longer and more cruel-looking than their own. A couple of the wolves began to back away because they'd gotten uncertain by then. Remember that I said that while he likes animals and understands them very well, like how they think, almost all animals are afraid of him. Only the colt has no fear of him because he was there when the colt was born, and he's looked after it after the mare died." "He snarled?" Ximena asked. "Yes," Amy replied, "the growl he made was almost like a roar. Remember that he's not a man anymore at this point -- and I know just what he looks like. When he's like that, his eyes are yellow or golden. I just don't know if there's a name for what he is then. Wait a minute, and you'll see." "So he held the staff in his left hand, and reached over his shoulder for his sword. Right here is another part that's strange. The staff was made of wood, but in his hand, he could get lightning out of it with a word that he said. This comes from his mind, and not the staff. He hit one wolf after another. They all fell down for a minute after they'd been hit, but they got back up again after a time, and they really weren't sure about attacking anymore. The biggest wolf jumped straight at him, right over the fire, and it was what the man had been waiting for. One great slash of the sword and the wolf fell almost dead. He dropped the sword and grabbed the dying wolf by the scruff of the neck and just heaved it back out among them -- a full-grown wolf, one-handed. Then he picked up the sword again, but they all backed away, snarling." "What happened next?" Maeve asked. Amy shrugged, "I don't know. That's where the dream left them. But I hope that I get to have more dreams of him. I know that the colt loved him, and I'm pretty sure that the colt grew up and wasn't eaten. I'm also sure that they got out of that spot just fine." "I can't explain it," she looked at them both, "but I seem to know things about him that aren't made clear in the dreams. I just know them about him. I know that he's traveled for a long, long time, and that while he's not unhappy, I know that he's not really happy either, though he feels better now that he has a friend in the little horse. He has those scars, but I don't think that he ever loses any fight that he's in. He doesn't want to ever fight anyone; he only wants to be left alone. But if he's dragged into a fight, he just wins and goes on. That's all that I know." Amy's eyes opened wide, "Oh, and I know his name. Again, it's just something that I know. It's not spoken in the dreams. He has several names, but the one that he was called the longest," she pointed to the first sketch, at the beaded thong on his left arm, "is Stormfeather. He got that name from his mother. There's another name that his father gave him that I'm not sure about because he's almost forgotten it himself, and there's a name that some people called him once long ago because they were afraid of his vengeance." Ximena looked at her friend curiously, "Vengeance?" "I told you that he doesn't want a fight with anyone and it's how he wants to live, but they killed his wife and his mother," Amy replied, "When he came after them, he got those scars and almost died, but he didn't stop until they were all dead." Ximena nodded, "I can understand that." "What did they call him?" Maeve asked. Amy stopped sketching and looked up, "They called him 'Blue-eyed demon'." She held up the paper, and both women gasped. "Even like that, he's really interesting." Ximena said, "Look at his eyes." Maeve shook her head, "I know what he is, Amy. I just didn't think there were any of them here. Are you certain that you saw him on this side of the ocean in your dreams and not in the old country?" Amy nodded, "Absolutely certain. He was, -- is here somewhere. I know that before he saw the mare in the first dream, he was hoping to come across a herd of buffalo." Stormfeather Ch. 03 Ximena had lost some of her good humor as an old recollection came to her, "I know what he is as well. And they are here. My people have legends of this but, no weapons, some magic, and just crazy killing." "We have the legends too, Ximena," Maeve said, "They're something not spoken of late at night where I come from in Ireland. Ours carry no weapons or magic either. They show up in rumors now and then, and most times it's all malarkey -- nonsense. But sometimes one hears of them, and they're very hard to kill as the legends go. They have some power in their eyes, it's said, and it's best not to ever look into them." She smiled, "Then again, if you find that you're close enough to look into their eyes, it doesn't matter whether you look or not -- you're a dead little leprechaun." They looked back at the scene that Amy had drawn. In it, there was a frightened colt lying down near the background of fir trees. Standing in front with his back to the colt as if defending it stood a being who looked so intelligent, so righteously powerful that it would take a stout heart indeed to face something like that. He stood in a breechcloth, and the beaded thongs were the same as the first picture. Even the braids from the first picture were there in this one -- thin braids here and there in his mane. His legs ended in large clawed feet like a huge dog, and though the eyes were the same if one compared the pictures, -- in this one, he had long ears, a lupine face, no less noble than he'd worn as a man, but it was not the same structure at all. "Nahual," Ximena whispered and then crossed herself. Maeve was a lot more definite when she said it, "Werewolf." "What?" Amy asked. "What you've drawn there, what you've dreamt of, Amy that's a werewolf. The tales that I've heard, they're not really dressed at all, and they're crazy barking mad and really strong. They just kill everything they see until they're killed themselves. And as I've said, they're very, very hard to kill. It's said that they change their shape only during the full moon. You might be talking to your neighbor about them in the daytime, and find that night that your neighbor is the very beast itself. They have no fear of the cross or the priest, they just kill. And if they don't rip you completely apart, if they just bite you and you survive it, then you become the next one. I certainly hope that this one in your dreams is not real, and that he doesn't actually live." Ximena nodded and crossed herself again, "With my people and those around where we are from, a nahual is a person -- a powerful sorcerer or witch who can become an animal. They are either good or evil according to their nature as a person. If they are good, the people may respect them out of fear, and even hire them to cure sickness or remove curses or ghosts. If they are evil, the people may try to kill them, forgetting how powerful they are. Sometimes the wrong person is killed by mistake and superstition, but if there is a real nahual nearby, they soon seek revenge for just the attempt and kill many soon after." Amy shrugged, "I don't know anything for sure. But it certainly feels to me that he is alive somewhere and that he has a young horse with him. From what you say, he'd kill the horse, and he wouldn't use weapons or magic, but this one does. I also know somehow that he's not bad or evil, he's just himself and he's not crazy at all. He can change when he needs or wants to and the moon plays no part in it. I can't tell you how I know it, but he doesn't want to hurt anything. Anyway," she said by way of ending the discussion, "that's what I dreamt about." Ximena went back to the kitchen to get a start on dinner, and the two women talked about things that Amy had to make some decisions about in the coming months. The subject of her dreams didn't come up again. Later, when the house was quiet deep in the night, Amy lay wide awake in her bed. She'd been thinking of him for hours. She rejected what she'd been told. She just knew that he wasn't anything at all like what they'd said. To her, he was some kind of solitary, sane, and intelligent warrior of some sort. She had no idea why he traveled or what he might be seeking if that was what drove him. She was a little glad to have shared the dreams with them. At least she had some vague notion now of what he was when he wasn't a man. But she was also glad that she hadn't told it all. The rest, she'd keep to herself and hoped to have more dreams of him. What she'd told had only been bits and pieces of his life and times that she'd seemed to have looked into as she'd slept. She hadn't said a thing about the other dreams -- especially the other ones from the second night at the farm, the ones that she woke from in the stillest part of the night covered in sweat and wildly aroused. Amy smiled to herself remembering how he'd come to her and loved her in those unspoken dreams, at times so gently that she'd wept happy tears. The thoughts excited her almost as much as the other times when he'd taken what he'd wanted from her as something far wilder and she'd seen herself bucking against him until he raised up on his knees and impaled her while holding her up easily as she hung quivering against him. Her thoughts of him kept her fingers busy under the sheets until she finally reached for her hairbrush. In those dreams, she wasn't Amy Monaghan the Santa Fe schoolteacher who sometimes loved to ride horses and could hunt and shoot as well as any man. In those dreams she was something wilder as well, something that needed him as much as he needed her. In those dreams, she was his woman. Stormfeather Ch. 04 Over the next two weeks, Amy had her dreams of the mysterious man almost every night. She'd watched him as he'd occasionally interacted with animals and humans. Any contacts with humans were mostly peaceful, whether he'd been noticed or had sensed their proximity and had simply slipped by without being noticed at all. There was one where a group of men had tried to cause him trouble because of his appearance. With nothing else for it, and facing their attempts to kill him for nothing, he'd laid them all low, and then moved on. There had been two contacts with plains Indians. In one, he'd bartered for a bit and bridle for his horse, and in the other, the tribe's shaman had knelt in fearful respect of him. In all cases where he'd tried to converse with anyone, he was always humble and respectful. Many of the dreams had been about nothing at all. They were just of him traveling or eating. Amy had been astounded at the mundane nature of these ones, as though she really was just looking in on him somehow. There were two episodes that had flat-out amazed her. In the first, she'd seen him sitting and looking out over a landscape from a high vantage point in a daytime setting. He wasn't searching for anything, he was just watching. This went on for several minutes, but something came to his mind suddenly, and he turned his head to look toward Amy's point of view, as though he was looking right at her with a fair bit of surprise. Amy knew that he was no longer looking at the scenery -- he was looking at her directly across whatever distance separated them. His face didn't harden or stare, but rather it softened as though he had just fallen into some sort of reverie. He'd smiled a tiny bit, and then whatever connection had existed between them had been severed. The second dream of this type had been both unsettling and exciting to her at the same time. She'd found herself trying to see him, and at first, nothing seemed to be forthcoming. There was only blackness. But after a time, she saw a pinpoint of orange-colored light in the distance. She felt that she was approaching it somehow, but as she neared it, she knew that she wasn't approaching it so much as she was being drawn to it. At length, she found herself looking at a small campfire in an inky dark place. The smoke from the fire swirled everywhere around her, but she did see something even darker behind the fire. She strained to see what it was, and with a sudden shock, she saw him. He was in that animal-like form of his and he was staring into the flames. This lasted for what felt to her to be several minutes, during which she found herself feeling privileged to be able to see him in this way. But then he'd looked up suddenly -- again, directly at her, his yellow eyes making direct contact with her own. They held each other's gaze for a time, neither of them even blinking. She saw that his lupine face was beginning to smile at her. When she was certain of it, sure that he was smiling, and not in any untoward or threatening way, she felt her heart leap, and he nodded as though he was recognizing her in some manner. The smoke filled in between them, and she was alone again. The next morning, she decided to go to her family's deserted home and began to plan for it. She wanted to be alone with her thoughts, and she was hopeful to be able to connect with him again, if indeed that was what it had been between them. This time, she didn't want any possibility of her being disturbed, and the old farmhouse would give her all the opportunity that she needed. She was now absolutely certain of something that interested and fascinated her to no end. She now knew for certain that he existed, and for whatever reason that she couldn't fathom or surmise, she felt that he'd seen her as surely as she'd seen him, and that he considered her to be an equal. ----------------------- From his point of view, the first of these connections had been a surprising confirmation of something that had been bothering him to a small degree. For some time, he'd felt as though he was being watched. The thing of it was that it hadn't been accompanied by the usual sense of warning that came to him if he became aware that his actions were being observed. This had been a lot less definite. That was what had bothered him. When he'd been looking out over the valley, it had come to him very strongly, and he'd sensed the direction of it. Turning in that direction, he'd finally seen the one who was watching, and the sight had taken his breath from him. He was saddened that the bright light of day reduced the clarity of the vision, but for someone to be able to look across some distance even though the time of it had been distorted impressed him. He wondered why anyone would want to see him this way. For the rest of the day, she had been on his mind. He went over each instance in his memory where he'd felt her gaze and hadn't known it for what it was. He found that he wasn't disturbed by it, only surprised. Once he'd thought about it, he'd become curious himself and now wanted to see her more clearly. If she could seek him out to watch him, then he knew that he could capture her searching thoughts the next time that she attempted it. It was something of a trap that he was setting for her, he knew, but it was the easiest way for him to see her more clearly without having to try to search her out. In any event, it wasn't a cruel trap, it was only a way to ride the same connection that she established. He'd prepared himself and waited in the dark. When he'd sensed that she was seeking him, he found her far off the mark without any visual clues. He had no doubt that she'd eventually find him, but he thought to save them both some effort, and lit his fire. With her attention on the light of it, he'd pulled her in close. He could have done this violently, but saw no need to be disrespectful by capturing her view against her will. That might only upset her and she'd likely react in fear or anger, and he didn't want that. He only wanted to have some contact with her so that they could see each other clearly. He wanted to know if she feared him or had any hostile intent. With her beautiful visage before him, he made sure to draw her in more by deliberately avoiding her gaze, keeping his eyes downcast. He looked up and locked his eyes on hers. If there was any fear or animosity, he'd feel it from this distance, but there was none. He was amazed. They only looked at each other and he smiled. He'd never seen anyone like her, and wondered what sort of creature she might be with such pale skin and brilliant green eyes under flaming red hair. The soft smile that he saw returned to him filled him with something that he was completely unfamiliar with. He'd never seen a human with this ability before with the exception of his own mother. He'd finally severed the tie because he felt that he wasn't ready for the next step. He needed to think before he tried to actually communicate with her. He sat back in the small cave in wonder, hoping that she would try again to reach out to him very soon. ---------------------- Amy sat in the kitchen with Ximena late the next evening. The lamps had been turned low and they'd planned to have just one more cup of tea before they each turned in for the night. Ximena had known that Amy had been thinking of going to the old farm once more before the winter, and she agreed that it would be best done sooner rather than later. Together they'd packed Amy's saddlebags with the exception of the food that would be added the next morning. "I don't really understand what you want to do besides relax and be alone," Ximena said. Amy smiled, "I guess it must sound strange. I want to draw and walk around just like I told you. I want to remember my family and the times that we were all together there. I also want to be alone to do that, and I want to try to see him without dreaming if I can, Ximena, without the possibility of being interrupted by anyone coming to call or asking you to make tea and such." "That's what I mean," Ximena said, "How do you expect to do that?" "Well I don't even know it I can do it," Amy replied, "but the last two times, I found out enough to be sure that he's really alive someplace. Oh, and Ximena, for damn sure, I know that he's not crazy." Ximena took the kettle from the hearth and poured the tea. Amy's thoughts drifted for the moment as she remembered seeing him in the dark in her dream. Oddly enough, she felt the same feeling in her breast now as she'd felt then. Many miles away, he sat in his small cave, watching through his closed eyes. He understood little of their conversational topic. He was pleased only to be able to see her again. From the saddlebags that he could see, he gathered that she would travel and he now wished to know where, but he supposed that it didn't matter. --------------------- "Why do you want to go back there now?" Maeve asked the next day at breakfast, "You've got the headmistress position at the school to think about and you need to prepare for the new classes." Amy nodded, "I've got it all in hand, Aunt Maeve. I've been working my tail feathers off at it. For the next little while, there's not much more that needs doing and my mentor wants a little time to relax this summer as well. We'll meet again a couple of weeks before the start of classes to finalize everything before she heads off to wherever she wants to go." She looked up as she stirred her morning coffee, "I do have a bit of property to look out for now, you know. I just want a little solitude for a short time, that's all. The fellow who looks in on the place has already written that someone seems to go there now and again. They never disturb things at all, but he's noticed that some of the hay that he's placed in the barn for my horse has been eaten and one stall needs cleaning -- after he'd cleaned them all out. I just want to know what's going on, and enjoy myself at the same time." They'd argued over it gently, but Maeve knew that Amy was Amy. The same stubbornness that she'd been given had landed on her great niece's head as well and there was no point raising a stink about it. She was a little worried for her, that was all. She was very proud of Amy, and thought perhaps that she'd said it to her a bit too often and that maybe it had gone to her head, but she doubted it. She liked how Amy could do the things that she herself had never managed to be able to do. Amy pulled Ximena aside later and asked her to see to her great aunt carefully. "You know how I love her to death, Ximena. Please take good care of her for me." Ximena had smiled, and nodded, telling her not to worry on that account, but she had a request, "Don't forget to take your sketching paper along. I so love the things that you draw." Amy smiled and said that she'd come up with something just for Ximena, and they'd hugged before Amy shed the trappings of a young lady of Santa Fe and left as a smallish, gangly-looking youth on horseback with her hat pulled down low over her bright green eyes. ---------------------- Stormfeather's attention was drawn away from Amy by the appearance of an old one from the other cave. This one had introduced himself as something of a gatekeeper, and Stormfeather's presence had been noted. When questioned, Stormfeather said that he knew little of the place and was a bit hesitant to enter, since he didn't know if he would be able to return. The old one smiled and replied that he'd be able to return once he'd entered if he wished, but that most who passed through had no wish to. With a finger in the dirt, Stormfeather was drawn a crude map of the cave, "Take the left passage, and you will find yourself in a land where almost everyone goes. It is a new land, and bears no real mark of man, though men are there in an older form," the old one said. "Take the right passage, and it leads you to a land of men ruled by old gods. In either world you will find food and magic in abundance." The rest of the day was spent teaching Stormfeather the things, rules and laws that he would need to abide by in either of the worlds, and then the old one listened with interest to Stormfeather's tale of his life. "It is always good to ask about a traveler's life, though for you it gives strange answers," the silver haired one said, "I have no knowledge of this princess that you ask about. It may be that she has stopped calling to you for some reason. It may also be that she is dead," he shrugged. "But in hearing about you, I think that you would find a better life for yourself by taking the right fork in the path. The old gods who rule there are the same ones who your father worshiped long ago, I think." He pointed to the amulet which hung from the younger one's neck. "You have no reason to want to accept it," the old one said, "but our wise ones would ask a boon from you while you stay outside here. It concerns a prophesy of this place. It was said long ago that there would be two travelers who would come to this gate. They are very important to us all if the prophesy comes to pass. One of them was born here, the other was not. One was born with strong sight and wisdom, the other with wisdom also, but with might and power. They are to come here, and must journey in good time to the land ruled by the old gods. There are ones there who need help and protection which we cannot give. We ask that you watch for them here or anywhere that you may travel while you wait before you enter here." He nodded and agreed to watch for the travelers. "How soon, old one, before they come?" There was good-natured laughter from his companion, "If I knew the answer to that, I would only come here myself at the right time, would I not?" After wishing him well, the old one returned to the cave, and Stormfeather found himself with much to think about. When he turned his thoughts back to the red-haired female who had sought him out, he found that she was closer now. All that he'd known was that she was to the west of him and that she would travel. His pulse had quickened and it surprised him a little to feel it. Now he knew that unless her road took her in another direction, she was coming toward him. He grinned hopefully. He didn't know anything about this strangeness, but he now really wanted to see this seer with his own eyes. He stood up and stretched in the early light of dawn before whistling. His answer came to him in the sound of hooves approaching. He smiled, and gently slapped his large friend's shoulder. "We must make a small journey of our own today," he said quietly as he fitted the bit and tossed the reins over the ears of the horse. Together, they picked their way down the path past the old house. Out on the road, the horse, now grown and happy to be traveling again, began to canter. Stormfeather laughed at the eagerness that he felt below him and allowed his friend to gallop. --------------------- Amy found that the trip wasn't going anything like she'd planned it. She'd noticed a group of men approaching from the front late on the second day. Amy turned her horse off the road where it crossed a shallow stream and had splashed up the stream-bed and then gone far around to come back to the road farther on and rode warily until well after dark. That night, she didn't light a fire and set out early to be sure that she'd left them behind, but toward evening she saw them a good distance behind her now trailing her. She was sure they were the same group and that they'd doubled back. Once she'd crested a small rise in the road, she urged her mare to quicken the pace once she knew that she was out of their sight for a brief time. She tried a few other ways to open the distance, tried in two places to cut off long corners in the road, but every time that she looked back, they were closer. Amy was certain that they were the same men and that they were following her. There had been a large man in the group the day before, and she could see him clearly now whenever she looked. She was stuck between them and the town of Portales. It was another two hour's ride from there to her family's farm. It was where she wanted to go, but she had doubts for her safety in the town after dark. The town had turned a little wilder over the years since she'd left to live with Maeve and to get through unobserved, she'd need to ride hard through some alleyways in the dark. Even if she got to the farm by some miracle, what safety could she find in that lonely place now? The only advantage to be gained there was that she could shoot first at long range -- and besides following her, they'd given her no reason to. Getting to the farm was out of the question anyway. She knew that they'd only follow for so long, and then make their move. That was the reason that they'd been slowly closing the gap. She thought of the road ahead and wondered which hollow or gully they had in mind for it. An idea came to her and she made for the abandoned Spanish settlement nearby, turning behind a group of trees and out of sight of the men to ride toward the place. She had no doubt that they'd figure it out. The thought crossed her mind that it might very well be the place they'd had in mind all along, but to her it offered at least walls where she could stand them off if worse came to worst. If they wanted to get her alone, she thought, well that was fine -- at least for as long as her ammunition held out. --------------------- Inside a house in that deserted ghost town, in a half fallen-in ruin with a broken back wall and one window, he waited for her, pleased that she'd decided to hide here. If she'd decided to go on past, then he'd have waited for the men to pass by as they followed her. He was certain that they'd have been rather surprised to learn that they had a pursuer of their own if that happened. But ideally, it was too early yet to deal with eight men out on the road. He could manage it, he knew, but he wanted a place where she could hide in the meantime. The pieces of their thoughts which had come to him had left little doubt that they weren't exactly what he'd call good men. He only wished that the sun had already set. She'd be more difficult for them to find and he would gain even more of the advantage. He turned to leave the ruined house. Amy rode down the deserted main street and turned down an alley toward the rubble that had once been an inn. She'd been through here before and knew that she could hide her mare in the stable out back. Once inside, she tied up her horse, slung the small pack that she used for shooting onto her right shoulder and pulled her rifles from their scabbards. The rifles went over her left arm with care, and with her right arm steadying the strap of the pack, she was about to turn to look for a place where she could command the encounter from if it came to that. He'd caught the briefest glimpse of her leading her mare into the old stable as he rounded the corner into the alley at a cautious trot. He knew why she'd chosen this place since it offered hidden shelter for her horse, but it wasn't the best place for her to be. The best plan would be for her to be some distance from her horse -- far enough away to engage the threat to her from the men out of earshot of any sounds which her horse might make wanting to be away from here or in its confusion at being left alone. He didn't know how to make this clear to her if she jumped out of her skin at his approach. He decided that it couldn't be helped. They had no time for polite introductions. As he'd entered the building behind her, he'd had to make a conscious effort to avoid sucking in his breath. He wasn't at all prepared to see her from this distance. The clothing might have been chosen to hide at least some of her shape, but there was enough of it coming through to him to make itself known. Stormfeather Ch. 04 There was also the issue of how to properly address one such as her. To his mind, everything about her indicated someone out of the ordinary to him -- and he seldom if ever spoke to whatever might pass for ordinary women, it almost never happened. She had the ability to see him and his doings across distance and time. Whatever other abilities she might possess, it was fairly clear to him that she needed his help right now. The fact that she was lovely made this all the more difficult. He felt ridiculous in these circumstances -- he doubted his ability to speak at the moment and cursed himself for all of the times that he'd held his tongue in solitude. It might have proven to him that he wasn't insane, not speaking to himself occasionally, but right now, he was fairly certain that he'd have stumbled over croaking out his own name during an introduction. It's one thing to dream of someone specifically and quite another to find oneself almost face to face with that person with no warning. Amy hadn't expected to come face to face with anyone. Now she stood not five feet from the one that she'd dreamt about. She gasped and stared at him. He'd been a formidable-looking individual in her dreams, but now he looked even more so in the flesh. She was of two minds for an instant. There was a part of her which more than anything wished that she might dare to close the gap, and reach out to touch the wide chest or rest her hand on his large shoulder for a moment, just to convince herself that he was real. But she didn't dare, and it made more sense to do the other thing. It wasn't what she'd have ever wanted to do in this circumstance, but she was already uncertain and nervous. Her pistol found its way into her right hand though she didn't pull back the hammer or draw down on him. He held up his hand and waved his fingers as he shook his head, indicating that he didn't wish to be shot. He turned and whistled softly. The young horse's head came around the edge of the door. Amy recognized the markings at once. She'd seen this one's birth in her dream, and now the young stallion stood before her. So it really was him, she thought, and wondered how this could have come to pass and where it would go. He made some quiet sounds into the ear of the large beast and it took off down the alley at a gallop. He smiled at Amy and beckoned her to follow him. With no better plan herself, she followed him to the old Spanish mission wondering what was in his mind and aching to have the simple luxury of speaking with him. Their circumstances and the speed of his pace precluded it. The sounds of approaching hooves came to her ears and she looked to him questioningly. He touched her right shoulder lightly and indicated the partially open doorway of the building. Up to this point, Amy had been worried. With him here, even though it made no sense to her, she'd felt better. But at his touch, she found that she had fewer misgivings about what was about to happen. She wondered about it for a second and then slipped inside the old building, looking for the stairs to the upper floors. The stairway and upper ladder looked tired, but they bore her weight as she cautiously made her way to one of the two belfries above. In another minute, Amy stood holding her brand new Winchester Model 1876 in the shadows of the belfry. It was one of the first of the new model to see Santa Fe and had been a special order for her, chambered for the .50-95 Express cartridge and sized to her measurements. It wasn't what she liked for precise long distance work -- that was the bailiwick of her Sharps rifle -- but the Winchester was a repeater, and the bullet could stop most anything smaller than a train locomotive. When Amy hunted, she wanted something that would do the job with one shot. To her, there was almost nothing worse than having to track an animal which she'd only wounded. She was prepared to trade some of the meat for a clean, one-shot kill. She'd only had time to sight it in the week before, but her time sighting it in had told her a few things -- it handled well, pounded into her shoulder like a mule and it would more than likely knock down a buffalo, something that she never expected to hunt. She wasn't trying to feed a railway crew, after all. With no one in sight for the moment, she looked down as he stood squarely in front of the ruined old mission in the town square. Amy wondered at the outcome of this. As the men approached, she stepped back into the shadows and found that she didn't like the look of them any more from where she stood than she had at a distance. They were about to fan out to search for her, but noticed the solitary figure there in the street out front of the church. "Let's ask him," one of them said. "Why?" asked another of them, "He prolly don't speak no English." "Hey, you seen a girl go by on horseback, she's dressed up as a boy." He raised his eyebrows questioningly to them. "That ain't no answer. You seen her or not?" He held up his hand and stepped to the corner of the building to point down a street out of town before stepping back to where he'd stood with a hopeful smile at the men. Two men nudged their horses to follow him and peered off into the landscape bathed in the glow of the sunset behind them. "Hey Thomas, I can see a cloud of dust from her horse. She's makin' a run for it!" "I'm obliged to you," the largest of them said with a smile to the silent one. Amy watched in horror as he drew his pistol and shot the man in the chest. Several others followed suit, and the square rang with gunfire. Amy didn't wait to see the effects of their gunplay. Her blood boiled instantly as she threw the loading lever forward and back. With the rifle up, she looked for her first target and the barrel obscured where she knew that he must now lie dying. He'd tried to help her and she hadn't even gotten a chance to speak with him, much less get to know him. Though she couldn't see the reason from her perch, the men were absorbed in staring at the man with at least six bullets in him still standing there in the street. As the nearest of them moved their horses in a partial circle around him in curiosity, his hand began to move in some pattern. Amy only saw the men and wondered briefly why they'd want to keep shooting. From her point of view, she'd seen all that she needed to and made her decision that his death wouldn't go unanswered. "You bastards!" Amy hissed quietly through gritted teeth with her rifle to her cheek. One of the shooters fell backwards from his saddle with a hole in his astonished face and the back of his head gone. She worked the loading lever and the empty casing spun up and away as the next round slid home into the chamber. A sparkling ball appeared in the silent one's hand and shot out in a flat arc to land on the chest of the one who had shot first. He fell onto his face with a frantic scream as his horse panicked and bolted away. The man was engulfed in sticky flames within another second and writhed shrieking in the dust as his companions gaped. Amy's rifle spat again and another one of them fell as the square echoed with the shots from her Winchester. One man looked up and saw her. He landed dead with the warning that he'd intended to shout still on his lips. Most of his heart and his left lung lay spattered in the dust behind him. The rest of the men found themselves torn between looking frantically around for the unseen shooter and staring in disbelief at a man who should be dead. His cold smile as he pulled both the axe and the sword over his shoulders caused one of them to void himself in terror. He moved with astonishing speed. One body sagged out of the saddle without a head to command it, and one tumbled to the ground with the ancient axe deep in his chest. Amy saw the motion and stared. Amy would never have believed it as she watched him sprint to the nearer of the last two riders who only now realized that they'd better leave if they wished to continue to draw breath. Her eyes went to the rider for a second. His horse was in full gallop but it did no good. Something very dark and fast took him right out of the saddle from almost directly behind. The horse screamed and squealed in horror as it came to an abrupt stop before running back the way that she'd come, snorting to indicate her upset. Amy watched him stand up from the crumpled heap thinking to try for the last rider. He looked back, up at her and saw her pick up her other rifle with a nod. She laid it on the adobe ledge and knelt on the floor behind it, estimating the range and setting the rear sight for a bit beyond that. After another second, the old Sharps rifle boomed out, and the bullet from the .50-90 Government round sped off to take the last rider off his horse. She took up her weapons and walked down to the street. Amy went quickly from one entranced horse to the next and pulled saddles, saddlebags and bridles from them, swatting each one on the haunch as she went. The feeling of her hand broke whatever spell they were under and they ran off. She glanced for a second at the sword lying where it had been set down and her eyes went to the corpse lying on its side with its back to her. The sight made her stop momentarily to stare. It wasn't the sight of one dead man in a square full of bodies which had stopped her; it was the glint from part of the axe's edge protruding from his back. She couldn't imagine the strength required to drive a blow like that. Amy went through the saddlebags looking for any ammunition which matched her weapons and then stood in amazement as he walked slowly back to her, dragging a corpse by one ankle with each hand. There were dark bullet holes in him as plain as anything -- more than one trickling a little of his blood, but he only winced a bit. Amy saw no wounds on his back. Nothing had gone through. He looked into her green eyes and after a moment's struggle he just said, "Thank you, Sheena." At the sound of the name, Amy's jaw dropped. While Amy stared at him with her mouth open in astonishment, he dragged the bodies and gear to the fire which still burned on the dead leader. With a wave from his hand, Amy had to step back from the heat of it. It wasn't a large fire she noted, the almost-white flames weren't tall, but they burned with intense heat, and there was almost no smoke. The last body landed on the heap after the axe had been wrenched out. "You should get your horse," he said quietly. When she didn't move, he looked at her with raised eyebrows. "You've been shot. What -- what can I do to help you?" Her astonishment was fading, at least for the moment. Now Amy was trying to hold back her fear for his survival. To her mind, he ought to be flat on his back. He looked at himself for a moment and straightened with something of a forced smile, "It has happened before. Please, get your horse. We should leave this place." Amy walked to the stable to get her mare, trying to sort out how any of this was possible. She'd mounted up by the time that she realized that he'd spoken English to her. At the outskirts of the empty place, she saw him sitting on the horse looking down at himself. She got as close to him as her nervous mare would allow and watched as he pulled a bullet free and tossed it into the bushes. "Are you Stormfeather?" she asked him. He looked at her with some surprise but nodded before looking at himself again. He didn't trust himself to say much more, and without the distraction of what he was doing at the moment, he knew he'd have been staring at her like an idiot. "Thank you for your help," she said, "What are you doing?" He grasped the end of another bullet and groaned quietly as he extracted it from his chest. "I do not like being shot," he said. Amy gaped at the sight of it. It made no sense to her at all, but she'd seen him live through many things in her dreams of him. For now, she was glad that he was alive. The silence gave him the time he needed to formulate something coherent to give her as advice. "You were riding east," he said, stopping to look at her. The sun was just down and the evening gloom spread rapidly around them. Looking at her with her hair no longer much hidden from the confrontation, he could only smile softly before he resumed his train of thought. "Keep on through the night that way. Tell no one what happened here." She shook her head, "I don't think that I can in the dark. The road only leads to the town up ahead, and I'll have to go right through it to get where I need to go. I'd rather not do that tonight, though I really want to be past there." "The moon rises soon," he replied, "and it is almost half. There will be enough light once you are used to it. I can lead you by another way and get you onto the road beyond the town by dawn if you trust me." "How do you know my name?" she asked, "I don't go by it much." He looked at her showing little expression for the moment, "I met a man on a farm east of here a time ago. His heart was failing him. I came too late to help much besides what I could do to take his pain from him. He told me of his daughter and how proud he was of her. We talked for a day, and he died. I tied him to his horse and led it near the town before the dawn. I cut him free and the horse took him there." He looked at her with a little awe, but then smiled, "I have seen you before in a vision. I think that you must be his daughter. He said that your name is Sheena." Amy nodded, "He was my father. He wanted Sheena as my name, but my mother wouldn't hear of it and it became my middle name. After her death, he always called me by that name." She pulled on her gloves, "That farm is where I'm going and I'd rather not ride this road at night, half-moon or not. If you know of another way to go which bypasses Portales, please lead me, Stormfeather. You've probably saved my life and gotten hurt while doing it. How could I not trust you?" With the answer to the question that he purposely had not asked, he smiled, "Follow me then. We need no road at all." It went on all night, and Amy knew that there had been times that she'd dozed and woken with a start to resume the task of alternating between losing him in the darkness and riding right into him. At times, he'd quickened their pace and they galloped for short distances across more open areas before settling back down again. Amy stayed directly behind him. There wasn't space to ride beside him. It amazed her. She knew that the thin paths that they were on were not visible at all from the road when they were in view of it. As the night wore on, she felt her weariness begin to take its toll on her, but managed to keep up fairly well. She began to wonder if horses can walk in their sleep, but daybreak found them still off the main road and on the path up the rise to the farm. Amy knew that her mare was bone-tired and she herself was not far from the same state, but Stormfeather and his large mount looked as though they were ready to head off on a real ride now. "You know this path," he said, "Go on from here. Try to stay just off the path if you can. I will watch the road for a time and clear any tracks." Amy nodded dumbly and began the slow ride up. After ten minutes which felt like the passing of an hour, she reached the top and looked out with bleary eyes at the small scrub plain that her father's farm overlooked. It looked the same to her, but something told her not to tarry long at any point where she might stand out against the background such as a ridge or in this case, the crest of the rise. Amy turned her horse aside and quickly made for the tree-line. She'd ride around the plain at least close to some cover. Within twenty minutes she was solidly back on her old stomping ground in a forest dell where she'd often come to play with her brother. She was about to ride around the last small rise to the fence when a thought came to her and she stopped. She'd dreamt of him, and then learned that he really lived. By some miracle, he'd been at the old ruined town when she'd needed him, and now he'd just led her to her old family home. She found that she had a lot of questions that she wanted and needed to ask him now that they'd met. She looked back toward the crest. He was there behind some trees looking down at the road and the path to the plain as he sat on his horse. He'd never said that he'd come back here, she realized. After all of this, she hoped that he wouldn't just ride off. Amy didn't know if her mare was up to it, but if Stormfeather turned to ride away now, she was determined to at least try to follow. She was thinking about riding back to him when he turned and began to head for the farm using the same roundabout way that she'd come. Amy rode around the rise and pointed her horse to the almost full water trough that she saw with some surprise. She briefly wondered who kept it filled, but had something of an idea. That big horse needed to drink too. It would also explain the dirty stall in the barn the neighbor's letter had mentioned. So he was staying here, she realized. If it had been anyone else, Amy would feel some indignation over it. Seeing as it was him, she only smiled to herself. Stormfeather Ch. 05 I'd like to thank those readers who have been kind enough to send me feedback. It keeps me writing. I noted that my chapters are sometimes too short for some. I guess that's just the way that I've gotten used to writing in the little pieces of time that I sometimes have to write in. But to move this ahead a bit, here's a long chapter. Enjoy. ------------------- Amy pulled her saddlebags and rifles from her horse and carried them to the house. Leaving them inside, she headed back and had just struggled to the barn with the saddle when he rode up. Walking over, Amy met him at the well as he worked the handle to fill a bucket and then began to wash the flakes of dried blood from his chest. She stopped him with her hand and examined him for a few seconds while he looked at her with a questioning expression. "Let me look, Stormfeather, please," she said, scooping a handful of water to lightly rub at a bit of the dried blood. The way that the blood appeared there indicated to her the exact spot where there had been a wound. A few seconds of light rubbing with her fingers removed it and there was no trace at all that anything had happened there, let alone anything as traumatic as a bullet entering. Only the scars that she'd seen in her dreams remained. She smiled as he flinched, noticing that he was at least a little ticklish. "Where did the bullets go?" she asked, "Did they all just sit there?" "If they go in, they come out soon after," he said quietly. "I just can't see how you can do that," she said, "I'd have been dead if even one bullet had hit me in any of the places where you were hit." She saw by his expression that there would be no answer forthcoming, and she didn't really mind for now. She'd gotten to touch him, after all, and he felt warm and inviting. She thought she'd better let it go at that, before the warmth got to her. "What about back there at that place?" she asked him, "What will anyone find there if they look for the men? Besides the fire, we left blood and brains all over the street." "Someone may find the place where there was a fire," he said, "but no one will find much of them, the hottest fires leave no smoke and burn almost everything. I do not think that any will want to look for them. I think that anyone who ever met them curses the day they did. They were bad men. The animals and the dust will remove anything that was left very soon. There are no tracks but those we left on paths where no one goes but the animals, and their tracks will soon cover our own, especially after the next rain when it comes. There are no tracks on the path up to here, Sheena." She nodded, "I'm pretty tired, my friend, but I want a cup of coffee after that all-night ride. Come on." she said as she walked toward the house. He stood there for a moment staring at her choice of words and wondering about it before he stepped onto the porch and entered. Inside, she grabbed a black iron kettle and asked him to light the stove. He looked at her and she smiled, saying that he seemed to be good at making fire with nothing. "I'm just trying to save myself some matches," she laughed. With the kettle on the stove, she headed to the horses and walked them to the barn. With their bridles off, Amy went back to the house. She knew enough about Stormfeather to know that her mare wouldn't let him anywhere near her. "How did you find me last night?" she asked. He held up his hand and said, "It would be better for me to ask why you sought me out. The answer to your question lies hidden in mine. I knew that you would come East." Amy's mouth fell open, "I didn't seek you out," she said, "not really. I heard that my father had died, and came here to bury him. I spent two nights here in this house alone for the first time in my life. I'm the only one of my family left, so I had a lot of things on my mind. When I finally did get to sleep, I was dreaming of you." She shrugged. "I dreamt of you again the next night, and almost every night since then, though I sleep too lightly when I'm on the road, I guess." She looked at him a little uncomfortably, "The difference is that now I try to have dreams of you. I see into your life, somehow. It's how I know your name, though I never heard it spoken in English in the dreams. So I found you in my dreams at first." He nodded, "You have very powerful dreams then, to be able to see me far away and learn my name. My mother could dream-walk like this. When I knew that someone was seeking me, I found that I could see you. I wanted to speak with you, but you began to travel, and I did not want to frighten you. I have been living in a cave on the top of the rise there, but I did not know that you were here at all." Amy stared, and then laughed, "Then maybe we would have met here anyway if I could have gotten here. I wanted to try to find you while I was awake. That's one of the reasons that I wanted to come here. I didn't know that you were here, I only wanted to be alone so that nobody would disturb me while I tried to see you, but I don't really know how to do that. I don't know why I found you in my dreams. But I always want to see more of your life." He looked somewhat perplexed, "Why?" "I have no explanation that would make sense," she said, "other than to tell you that once I saw you, I wanted to see more. I feel much better in the mornings after I've dreamt of you – and I don't know why that is." She smiled at him cautiously, "I never thought that I'd ever be able to actually see you like this. I hope this doesn't sound as stupid as I think it will, but I feel honoured for the chance." She had a thought for a moment about her situation here, alone with him like this. Well, she thought, it had been her choice to come, so she'd see where this went. When she looked at him, there was a slight smile there. She hadn't said a thing, but he answered her as though she had. "You are in no danger from me, Sheena. I think the honor here is mine. I tried to seek you and found that you would travel. The next time that I looked, I knew that you were coming this way, but I did not know that you would come here. I left to make sure that you were safe, and I found the men. At first, they wanted the fine weapons they saw that a boy had, but finally guessed that you were no boy. I hoped that you would think of the old town if you knew the road. I wanted them to follow the dust of my horse, but, ..." His thoughts took him in another direction and he looked at her quizzically, "Why did you shoot?" Amy felt herself blush a little, but shrugged, "I was angry," she admitted. "They'd been following me for a day at least. I didn't think they'd be spending all that time following just to say hello to me, and ..." She looked down in some embarrassment, "I suddenly found the one who I'd seen in my dreams, and I could see that you knew that I might be in trouble, and you tried to help me hide. When they shot you for nothing, well, that was enough for me. You might say that I have a bit of a temper." She looked at him as the kettle began to boil. She was a bit surprised at that. "You asked me to light the fire," he smiled, "I made it burn hot to begin. It will settle now." "I thought you were dead, Stormfeather. It's a little hard to explain but," she looked away, "my brother died a long time ago, and my mother after him. Now my father is dead too. I'm all alone, except for my great aunt and her housekeeper, who is my friend. They both live where I rode out here from." She looked at his face again, "I had dreams of you, and seeing your life made me wish very much that I could meet you, once I somehow knew that you were real and not just a dream. After seeing you right in front of me, the thought of someone like you being killed before I even had a real chance to talk to you, ... well, it was too much for me to just stand there and hide like a mouse. If they were after me bad enough to kill someone who hadn't done anything to them, I thought I'd at least give them a real reason to want to kill me." She walked to get the coffee started. His expression showed her a bit of the wonder that he felt, "I think that I must thank you again," he said. "You are very brave, Sheena. You know nothing about me." She set the top back on the coffeepot with something of a slight grin, "Oh yes I do, my friend." She went to her saddle bags and pulled out a large envelope. She carefully removed two manila folders from it and laid them on the table. "Come here and see," she said, opening the first one. "I almost always draw scenes from my dreams of you so that I don't forget them." He stared at her sketches of him in awe, recognizing the times in his life, "These are from mostly four winters ago." She nodded, "I watched you help birth your horse and protect him after his mother died. From that, I knew that you are kind." She offered him a cup of coffee, "Please sit down. You might not have ever had coffee, but you may like it," she said, "Be careful though, it's hot and so is the cup." He smiled to her after a cautious taste and continued to look though the drawings. They were a series of wonders to him. A silence settled between them, but it wasn't uncomfortable. When he'd finished looking, he leaned against the back of the chair, "You shoot well, Sheena." "My father taught me many things," she said, "my mother used to scold him for it, but he always said that if we lived in a city, I'd have to learn city things. Since we lived here, he'd teach me what I'd need to know and that was it." She smiled at him, "Why are you here?" "That will be hard to tell," he said, "I have travelled far from where I was born long ago." He looked at her and thought about it briefly, but then decided. "There was a people here very long ago in this place. They are gone a long time now, but this was one of their places to lay their dead because of the magic that lives here. You may not feel it, but to me it is here everywhere that I look. The people are gone, but over time, many other people lived not far away and they laid their dead here as well, because they felt what lies in the ground here. My own people lived far away and did not come here." He looked off into the distance for a moment, "My people lived near the sea far to the north and east. One day, white men came in ships. These men were large and cruel. They had bows better than my people's bows, and they were very strong. My people used clubs of wood, and the strangers used metal axes and swords. My people suffered much. There was one among the strangers who they treated as a slave, though he was of their kind. He escaped and was held as a prisoner by my tribe for a time. Slowly, he was able to show them that he could make them better bows and arrows like the large ones had, and better, he knew how to fight them. With his help, they were able to kill all of the men." "The band's chief liked the man and so did his daughter. That man was my father. Years later he died, and my mother and I were driven out, along with the daughter of the new chief. She loved me and went with us. I did my best to care for them." Amy noted that he was silent for a few minutes, and she could see that he was remembering something which held pain for him, so she was prepared to hear nothing more, but he began again, "They were killed by the men of an enemy band, the same ones who killed my father in battle long before. I returned from hunting and found them dead. I burned their bodies. Then I left." "I know," Amy said quietly, feeling like a peeping tom who had been caught, "I saw it all". This close to him, Amy could see many scars, small dimples where arrows had hit him, and scars from many knives. They were pale and thin, but if you looked hard, they were there all the same. She had the briefest moment to take them in before he turned to her with a startled expression. She nodded, "I saw that the very first night." Seeing his expression, she felt that she ought to try to explain the little of it that she understood, "I should mention that I had no choice in what I dreamt, Stormfeather. Each time that I fell asleep that night, the dream began again exactly where it had ended, and trust me - much of it was very hard to watch. I couldn't even look away. My view was locked on you whether I wanted it or not. I had no choice but to see it as soon as I slept. But I don't understand what happened to you after the big fight," She found her hand reaching out tentatively to touch his chest and trace one of the scars, "where you got these that day." Amy found herself wanting more than anything to keep her fingers where they were. The feel of his skin and the solid layer of the underlying muscle caused her to throb. Like anything else about him, Amy found the effect both alarming and exciting. He looked down at her hand for a moment and then back at her face with a smile as she pulled her fingers back slowly. He showed no sign that her touch had been unwelcome. "A woman came and healed me. She told me that I had to go on. She wanted us to be together, but first she had to go to her home. Then she said that she would call to me." He lifted his hair from his shoulder, "She bit me, and I became what I am." Amy stared at the scar there until he let his hair fall back to cover it again. "What are you now?" she asked. She wanted to hear him say it, not quite trusting what she'd been told. He smiled a little bitterly, "You have seen me like that in the vision, no? You would not believe me if I told you, and if I show you, you will be afraid, Sheena. Beside the time that I spent with your father, I have not been this close to anyone only talking in a long time, and I enjoy it, talking like this with you. I came here because this is the place where all of my kind must go, sooner or later. I heard the woman's call to me here," he said, pointing to his heart, "I followed this feeling, but then it stopped. I never found her again. So I came here. There is a cave up there that is the way for me to leave this world. I am almost ready to, but I want to stay here a little while longer yet." He laughed a little, "What am I?" He looked over and smiled, "I have to think of a way to say this, but for now, did you see how your horse would not come near to me?" She nodded, "Yes." "Your horse has more sense than most men," he said. "You must be sure to close the barn door before you go to sleep tonight. I will not hurt the horses and mine is used to me, but I do not need the worry of them being found by another of my kind if one comes. We seem to be friendly between us, Sheena, and I am happy for this. But there is one thing that you must do tonight." She looked at him and saw the seriousness in his eyes. "I do not know how to say this better," he said, "but I do not want to harm you in any way. At night, here, there are two things to be afraid of. The old ghosts of this place are not one of them. I do not know how many there are of my kind in the world. Beside the one who healed me and made me this thing, I have only met one other before I came here. He was in Guatemala and he was killing many people, Sheena. I killed him. There is one who stays only sometimes inside the cave where I must go. You do not need to fear him. I do not feel any others close by, but if one comes while I am here, I will protect you." She was a little worried, but without the threat to her being made plain, she didn't know whether to be afraid of anything or not. "What is the other thing I have to be afraid of?" she asked. He laughed with more of the slight bitterness, "The other thing is me. That is why you must be inside at night. If you can, lock the door. I could open it no matter what you did, but I do not want to hurt anyone. I will not become a senseless thing, I want for you to be safe while you are here. I may pass by in the night, but I will leave you alone. I can change into another creature. At night, in this place, I do it to keep warm." She listened to his manner of speech and wanted to ask him about it. It was fluent enough, but there was an odd quality to it that took a bit of getting used to, as though he searched for some of the words once in a while and sometimes his phrasing was different. "I'm a little surprised at your English," she said, "I didn't know that you could speak it at all." He looked a little self-consciously at her, "I can learn almost any way of speaking if I hear it enough to grasp it, but sometimes I have to think to find a word and English is not either of my first languages. Of course, no one in this part of the world can speak them either, so I have had to learn pieces of many languages as I have traveled. I am sorry for the way that I must sound to you." "Oh, don't be sorry," she said, "I was just surprised, and please don't feel badly if you get stuck. I don't mind." Amy could tell that he didn't really know the rest of what she'd seen in her dreams. She didn't know how to say it any differently, and so Amy just came out with it, "Stormfeather, please tell me what you are. I see a man when I look at you. A pretty powerful man, I'd have to say, but that's all that I see. What am I supposed to be afraid of, besides a man? And I must admit to you that the longer that we sit here and talk, the more comfortable I become. The things that you did back there, and how you helped me, ... well, if I have to be afraid of a man, I think I can handle that. I wasn't afraid of those bastards in the old town," she said with a little defiance. It made him smile at her warmly, "I saw that. I did not know why you were traveling then, but I saw that you had no great fear of them. It was good to see that." Then his face grew serious, "Sheena, the thing here is that I am no man. There are very few of us and we call ourselves travelers." He reached over his shoulder and drew the old sword. He handed it to her with the hilt of it leading. "My father's sword. I have rebound the hilt many times, and made new leather for the scabbard seven times now. Leather only lasts so long." She felt the weight of it. It had obviously seen many fights, but was still well-cared for. The thing about it that came to her right away was its obvious age. It wasn't anything like the swords that she'd seen army officers carry. It was straight and sharp and above all, it was heavy. Not the sort of weapon that any native would carry if for no other reason than the weight of it. She handed it back to him. "How old do you think that I am?" he asked. Amy looked at him objectively. If she tried to look past the scars, she had her answer, "I'd say that you're about twenty-five, no older than thirty." She realized at once that he wasn't laughing at her, but he was laughing softly. He wiped a mirthful tear from his eye, "Thank you, but no. I was twenty-one winters old when my woman was killed. After I was healed, I wandered for maybe a hundred winters more until I felt the call of the one who changed me. I have spent more than seven hundred winters searching for her. Now, I have given up and I am here to leave this place." Amy found that the thought of him leaving saddened her, and the length of time was beyond improbable. He looked at her, "I can see that you doubt me, but I do not lie." "I know that you're telling the truth. I want to believe you, Stormfeather, but what you say cannot be," she shrugged. "I understand," he said, "yet you saw things last night that cannot be to most people also. My age should not give you trouble if you remember last night." He snapped his fingers and turned his palm up. She saw that his fingers were closed over something, something which glowed eerily. When he opened them into a sort of cage, she saw a sparkling ball of light inside them. "Here," he said with a smile, "hold out your hand and do not be afraid. Let us see how pure your spirit is. A bad person with a dark heart cannot hold this for long." Stormfeather Ch. 05 She stared at him, but did as he asked. He leaned over to let the ball roll onto her palm. It stayed there and tingled warmly. Amy was afraid to move. She didn't want it to leave her palm or go out. "Very good," he said with some surprise, "Any of the men who lie dead back there would have already had their hands burned off. Even a good man cannot hold it for long, yet you can. You have a very good spirit." She sat fascinated, looking at it, but then turned to him, "What do I do with it?" He shrugged, "You can roll it from one hand to the other and back. When you tire of it, toss it up into the air." Amy tried it several times and laughed, "This is wonderful!" she looked at him and winked, before looking back at the ball and tossing it upward, where it suddenly grew and grew until it was spread so thinly that it just disappeared among the joists of the upper floor. She looked at him, "I've never seen anything like that. How can you do that?" He shrugged, "My mother told me that my father's people over the sea had magic, and I know that her own ancestors had much. She said that in me, there was much power from both. I make them with my mind as I have the need." Amy nodded, reaching for the second folder of sketches. "I do have some idea of what you are, but I didn't want to say much, because I wasn't sure if I'd only imagined it. Look at these ones." He looked at them for a long time before looking up, "Then you have seen." She nodded, "And I'm still not afraid - unless you tell me that I really need to be." she looked around, "And if you tell me that, well I guess that I'm still in trouble. I really don't think this place could keep you out. But you said that you don't want to hurt me." "I will not hurt you," he said earnestly, "I just do not understand why you have dreams of me. Twice now you have called me friend. I have not had a friend since I was a boy. If you wish for my friendship, then you have it and I am happy for that." "If you stand on the porch and look around," she said, "you can see all of my many childhood friends. My brother was gone from when I was about ten. The last time that I saw him alive, I was twelve. So from this you can see that I understand you. How soon will you leave here to go where you said?" she asked. "I feel that I only have to go one day," he said, "I do not feel that it must be right away. If I now have a friend, then I want to know you before I go." "You have a friend," Amy said with a nod as she reached into the large envelope and very carefully pulled one drawing from it. She couldn't help the yawn which came to her, but she managed a smile which hit him with some effect. "I think that I'd like for you to stay a while longer too." She looked at the sketch in her hand for a second, "Most of my dreams are of things that I know have happened. They're in your past, though most are not more that the four years that you mentioned. But not all of what I've dreamt about is from the past," she said, "Some of them look to me like they lie ahead, and here is one drawing that I really hope that you have answers for, because I was beginning to think like Ximena about it." She saw his uncomprehending look, "Ximena is my friend in Santa Fe. She thinks that all of the things that I draw from my dreams are just the fanciful wishes and fantasies of a lonely woman. She says that if I had a man, I wouldn't have the dreams." "What do you think?" he asked her. "As strange as it might seem," she said, "I'm almost glad that I don't because of them." She laid the one in her hand down in front of him and turned to unpack some things from her saddlebags. "You are a lonely woman?" he said with a surprised chuckle, "I cannot see it. To me, you are more than lovely. You must have many men fighting for your attention." She shook her head with a smile, "The only young men fighting for my attention soon learn to regret their foolish wishes." He was just turning the sketch over, but stopped to look at her in some confusion, "That cannot be true," he said with a warm smile, "unless you shoot at them." Amy found herself laughing, "I may wish to at times," she said, "but it's not allowed. I am a teacher. The young men are really very young." She looked at him with a smile which faded as she saw his expression while he stared at the drawing and Amy suddenly felt quite foolish to have shown it to him. It was a very powerful image. The scene had them both almost side by side, tensed as though facing a threat of some kind. The sketch was drawn looking from almost the viewpoint of that threat. He stood dressed much the same as he was at the moment, but pointing a short double-barreled firearm. His older weapons were in their usual place on his back. There next to him stood Amy with her old Colt drawn and pointing in the same direction. She wore none of her usual clothing. She had a breechcloth on over what looked to be deerskin leggings and she wore fur-lined moccasins on her feet. Over the breechcloth, she wore her gun belt and the holster was strapped to her thigh. Like him, there were leather thongs on her biceps and she wore a fur vest of some kind. The wind in the drawing blew at least somewhat, as shown by their hair, and in the far background, there were beasts of some variety which now did not roam the earth. He pointed to the animal that took up some of the space between the two figures, "Who is this?" Amy shook her head, "I don't know, to be honest. I just knew that she was there. I don't have any idea why, but it looks to me as though she's facing the same thing that we are in this." "When did you draw this, Sheena?" "Two nights before I left, so five days ago," she said, "I saw our packs on the ground behind us. I left them out so as not to clutter the scene. I also left out our horses, the same ones that we have now." "He is the only horse I have ever had, and the only beast who can stand to be close to me. What is it that we are facing, you and I?" he asked. "I never saw it from my own view," she said, sitting down with him, "I only saw us, and I know that we were travelling together, but I have no idea where it might be or where we were going. I get feelings from my dreams. The feeling that I had in this was that I was where I belonged, for some reason. That's why I drew this one. The dream was very short, Stormfeather, but I got a lot from it all the same." "What?" he asked. "I'd rather not say right now," she said shyly, "I feel silly enough for showing it to you as it is." He looked at her and shook his head, "Do not feel badly here." He set the drawing down almost reverently, "This tells me much, though you may not see as much as I do from it. You feel foolish because from what you have drawn, we travel together?" "Yes," she nodded, "I swear that I didn't draw it as a silly notion." "I know this," he nodded, "I also think that I know why you feel foolish. I feel no offence here, and I mean none to you, Sheena. I feel much honor from it to be beside you here in this drawing. I see that you draw this only from your memory of the dream. By this I know the power of your dream-walking. I can even show this to you." Amy was amazed, "You - you can? How?" He pointed to himself, "Look at my hair." She looked at his long black hair, but whatever significance he'd wanted to show her was lost on her at the moment. Stormfeather saw this and chuckled, since it proved something to him. "You cannot know this, but you have drawn it anyway." He pointed to his hair in the sketch, "Do you see these braids that you have given me here?" He pointed to the two thin braids near the front. Amy nodded, "Yes, so? You've always had a few braids when I've seen you in my dreams. You have the braids right now, most of them." Stormfeather shook his head, "Look at how you have drawn me in the other pictures. In your other pictures, I have the same braids that I have always had, the same braids that come back whenever I change. I can untie them, I can even cut my hair off here and now, but as soon as I change, it comes back. Everything about me remains as I was when I was bitten. Wounds heal, bullets fall out," he shrugged, "These scars are always here." Amy tried to fight off the yawns which now came to her almost one after another, but she looked as he'd asked. To her surprise, none of the other drawings showed braids where she'd drawn them in the scene where they were together. She looked at him in some astonishment, "I never drew braids there before. Does that mean something?" He took the last swallow of his coffee and stood up, "You are very tired, my friend. You should get at least a little sleep. I have things which must be done now, and there is the old one of my kind who stands sometimes as a guard for the passage, as I have said. I wish to see him now. Please rest yourself. I will stay nearby while you sleep." Amy knew at once that he was hiding something, or he was being at least a little bit coy. He hadn't jumped out of his chair suddenly, or anything quite that abrupt, but she had a sense. Anyway, she was much too tired right now to want to probe him for an answer. "Please tell me that you'll be here later," she said, "I love talking with you." As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she realized how tiny she'd sounded. It was the way that she felt in her weariness, but she hated that it had come out that way. He laid his hand on her shoulder and she felt better instantly, though her heart pounded strongly for a few beats, "Sheena, you trusted me in the old town, and again while I led you away from it in the night. I do not lie." She sighed, feeling genuinely foolish now, "I know that, Stormfeather. I'm sorry if you think that I'd doubt you now. Other than feeling alone the last time that I was here, I didn't mind it at all. But now I don't want to find myself alone, not after finally meeting you. I guess that's all that I'm saying." "Then you will find me here." He smiled back at her and turned to walk away. Amy walked to the door and watched him go. For the first time in a long while, Amy felt really good to have made a friend. It was a rather pure feeling to her heart, and one that came very seldom in her life. When the thrill of it passed, she found herself grinning, as tired as she was. It helped a lot that her new friend was a wonderful–looking, kind-hearted man who seemed to be able to manage almost superhuman things, ride all night, and still somehow smell rather nice to her. She shook her head to clear it. That really was starting to sound like the fanciful wishes and fantasies of a lonely young woman, she admitted to herself. But then she shrugged to herself as her grin returned. She didn't give a damn how it sounded. She closed the door and looked at the picture a bit more carefully. If what he was alluding to was correct, then she was drawing more than she knew. She squinted through her bleary, tired eyes at it some more, searching for details. She may have been squinting to begin with, but after another minute, her red and tired eyes flew open as she looked at herself again in the picture. What she saw made her sink down to sit in one of the chairs as she thought of it for a few moments. She hurriedly reached for the envelope and pulled out a pair of drawings that she'd have never shown him to save her life, though she'd so enjoyed drawing them from her memories of those dreams. These two had been the source of Ximena's comments when she'd seen them and admired the way that they'd been drawn. Amy had doubted herself as she drew them, but she'd missed the significance of those little details. The drawings showed them making love. After a good long look, Amy sighed and carried the last two sketches to the stove and tossed them in, making sure to watch them being consumed. They had a lot of importance to her, but... She went back to the drawing where they stood facing the unknown threat. She looked at him and those thin braids for a moment before looking at her own image again - as though the detail might have disappeared in the meantime. Well it hadn't, and Amy suddenly knew at least one reason why he might have felt that he ought to let her sleep. What she'd unwittingly drawn had surprised the hell out of him. She knew how she felt about them together in the drawings, but even Amy had thought that part really was just at least a little fanciful imagination. If her guess was correct, she'd just surprised the hell out of them both. In the scene where they stood together, she wore the same two thin braids in her hair, in exactly the same places as she'd drawn them on him. There were the same braids in their hair in the sketches which were now ashes in the stove. Now that the door was closed and he was off somewhere, Amy was at least a little perturbed. That was nothing compared to how she felt remembering what came to her of what he'd said. "You cannot know this, but you have drawn it anyway," was what he'd said. She was beginning to have at least an idea what he'd meant as she walked up the stairs to hopefully have at least a nap, though now she doubted somehow that it would happen. Lying on the bed, she thought over what he'd said and what she'd drawn. She found that she was able to place it within the context of her dreams and their - direction – for lack of a better word. When she thought of it that way, it wasn't hard to just relax and drift off. ------------------ He smiled as he worked, trying to manage several tasks at the same time, and sometimes failing. He couldn't help the smile and he really didn't mind about getting behind. If he got behind in one, he'd stop and catch up a little before continuing. Finally, he looked at the sun and judged that he'd better get a few others started, and walked down below with his arms full. He'd been to the cave entrance hoping to find the silver-haired one, but found no one there. His question would keep for a later time, he thought. He stopped in front of the house and listened. Hearing nothing, he let himself in and set to work there as quietly as he could manage it. The stove had almost gone out, but with a little wood and a thought from him, he had it burning well enough for what he needed and drew his knife to begin the work there. His blade was a long and heavy one, suited to many tasks. In Europe, it was known as a seax, and had been around for centuries. The tang was set into a haft of horn and the blade was over a foot long, and to a European blade-smith would be known as a broken-back seax, the front third of the blade drooping below the spine. It gave the thing a bit of weight for chopping, and had been a gift to Stormfeather from his father. As such, it carried intricate patterns in the steel. It was years before he'd been large enough to wield it for more than a few minutes at a time. Now, it felt as though it was an extension of his hand when he worked it. He'd caught a pair of rabbits earlier that morning in his snares and brought them along with everything else and now set to cleaning them. It took only a few minutes and he was washing and cutting the pieces for the meal. Stormfeather wondered about her as he worked. What did it all mean, if anything? He kept remembering the picture of them traveling together and facing a threat. What sort of threat could it have been that it would be such a common one to them all and provoke such a reaction from the figures in that scene? He thought about the animal there between them in the drawing and wondered again. He had no idea, he thought, but he'd try to make some preparations regardless. It was better to be prepared than not. If he was correct in recognizing the place, then she would need some things if indeed they'd be journeying together by some strange turn of events. As pretty as the pictures of her in his memory were, he did his best to push the thoughts of the braids out of his mind. She was the one who could dream-walk, after all. Amy awoke to the smells of some sort of food cooking in the house. She sat up and stretched for a moment, wondering. With no answers coming to her, she followed her nose downstairs and found him working at some kind of craft on the floor near the kitchen. It was very late in the afternoon. "What are you cooking?" she asked, "It smells wonderful." "It is only, ..." he searched for the word and smiled as it came to him, "stew," he said, "rabbit stew. You have not eaten anything all day." He shrugged, "Sometimes I have trouble with words. I know many languages and I can learn them quickly, but sometimes one simple word gives me trouble." She smiled and went to her pack, "Then I have some bread for that simple word," she said. A quick look in the pot on the stove and her stomach reminded her that it had been cruelly forgotten. She saw vegetables and meat there and stirred it a little, more to waft a little of the delicious smell to her nose than anything. Amy found herself pleased to listen to him, "What tribe are you? All of the men that I've seen usually have their hair tied, but you don't. You don't look like the ones that I've seen anywhere before." "A good question," he smiled at her as he pulled a thin length of deerskin taut. A minute later, he said, "I do not belong to any tribe anymore. I come from far away from here as I have said. I am a tribe of one these days." She sat down in a chair to watch him, "I've wondered for a little while now how you got your name." "My mother gave the name to me. I was born in bad weather," he shrugged with a smile. Amy thought that for one who always seemed to be traveling somewhere alone, he hadn't developed the long-distance stare that she sometimes saw on the faces of people who spent long periods of time on the road to or from somewhere. He did have a somewhat stern look to him at times, but when he spoke to her, she found him smiling readily, and she so liked his smile. It made her want to engage him even more. She smiled back at him, "It smells like it's ready to eat, Stormfeather. Aren't you hungry yet?" He nodded, "Sometimes I think that I was born hungry in the storm when I was named, but it may be that my mother was too kind to tell me what caused the feathers to blow in the wind. I think sometimes that I must have eaten all the birds. The feathers were all that I left of them." She filled a pair of bowls and set the table with her loaf of bread cut quickly into rough slices, "I don't believe it. You're just trying to get me to let you eat in peace and not pester you with my questions while I have you near." His soft smirk almost caused her to laugh as he set down what he was working at, "I always have no one to talk with, Sheena. I enjoy this, I have not spoken this much in a while." They ate quietly for a while after Amy told him that it tasted really good. She looked at him and to her surprise he spoke, "I just knew." "Knew what?" Amy asked. "I knew that you must be Sheena as your father said. I had a picture of you clearly in my head from his words, - I saw you in my mind before you left to travel. I cannot say it well, but I sometimes get thoughts from people and animals, even the dead sometimes." "You're telling me that you can read the minds of others?" He nodded, "Sometimes, and sometimes not." She filed it away for the moment and changed the subject, "How do you make the little balls of fire in your hand with your mind?" It was something that she'd had on her own mind since she'd seen him kill the man in the street with one. His little test of her that morning had really only increased her curiosity. He looked at her, "Why? Do you fear me for this now?" She smiled, and to his mild astonishment, she said only, "No." "I do it with my mind as I have said," he shrugged, "There is some of what you might call magic to it, but for one such as you, I think that you could learn it yourself with practice and control over wandering thoughts in a place where there is magic around such as this. That is the hardest part of it, to keep your mind in that one place, even as you do something else. I learned it from my mother. I am sure that it is easier for a woman to learn than a man. It took much of my mother's patience to teach it to me." Stormfeather Ch. 05 He smiled, "She made me practice near plenty of water, since I burned down the lodge that we sat in with my first success before she could stop me." "How do you mean even as you do something else?" she asked. He looked at her, "There is an old dead tree trunk broken off long ago by lightning. It stands outside the fence behind me all alone with nothing near to it. Can you see it?" She looked out through the window behind him, "Yes." "If you want to see what I mean, I will show how to think of one thing as you do another." Amy stood and walked to the window to open it so that she could see without the grime and imperfections of the old glass. She sat back down to watch him. "Alright," she said, "What now?" He shrugged, "If you are ready, I will burn it down." "Go ahead, then," she said, expecting him to walk to the open window himself. "I do not need to," he smiled at her. She stared at him with some surprise, "I didn't say - " "No," he smiled warmly, "It was what you were thinking. So Sheena, in all of my life I have not ever wanted to prove anything to anyone, but for my beautiful new friend here with me, I feel that I now must prove myself." He laughed softly, "Now I am the one who feels foolish." He held up his hand, "Do you see that I hold nothing in my hand?" She reached over and touched his hand, liking the feel of it, "Yes, there's nothing in your hand but my own. Do I have to let go now?" He liked her soft grin but nodded sadly, "Yes, or you will be burned. This will not be like the last plaything." He snapped his fingers and repeated the motions. The ball there in his hand glowed far brighter and Amy could feel the heat of it. She could barely even look at it. He lowered his hand, but the ball stayed where it was, lighting the room like a small sun. "I cannot see the broken tree from where I sit. "he said, and continued to eat, ignoring the ball for the moment. Amy was about to remind him when the ball hissed for a second and then continued to float above the table. It made no further sound, but the tree fell over, completely engulfed. He finished his stew and smiled at her. Amy stared and turned to him, "The horses ..." He looked at the ball in the air and it faded away in response, "They are in no danger. The fire is out already. It only smokes now on its own and the wind will carry any sparks away from the barn. It will be stop smoking very soon. This is what was meant by thinking of something while doing something else." He shrugged a little sadly, "From my tenth winter, I could do things like this. I sometimes wish that I had been born an ordinary man." "Maybe this isn't the best way to say it," Amy said, "but I'm pleased that you're you, just as you are. I'd still feel the same if you weren't this different, you'd still be remarkable to me, but I'd never have gotten to know you then, and I'm thankful that I have the chance. This just makes you more special to me." It was incomprehensible to him, this calm acceptance of hers. He tilted his head at her remark, and said, "How...? I do not understand. Most people fear me, if they know." Amy laughed a little, "It's alright. I can see that you're very different, but I don't think that you make me afraid of you. You're my friend. If you say that I have to lock myself in the house tonight, then that's what I'll do. So far, you haven't harmed me and maybe I'm being stupid to trust you, but it's what my heart says I should do." She found his smile far more than charming. "You call me your friend, Sheena." He placed his hand on her slender shoulder, "Thank you for this. We call ourselves and others of my kind travelers, because almost all of us wander for most of our lives. To us, a friend is such a rare thing. To be alone is our way, because of what we are. It is even in our speech to one another if we should meet. We refer to each other as 'one', as I mentioned the old one whom I met here. I think you can understand how much the friendship that I feel from you might mean, even after so short a time." Amy could only nod and smile. Inside, her heart flew from his touch. It was strange how he could affect her this way, she thought. He shook his head, "You, of all the people who I have met, in all the years that I have been what I am, you are not afraid. I thought that you only hide your fear from what I can see in other people, but in you, I always see only calmness toward me. You accept me and what I am. Nothing that I do can really surprise you once the moment is past. You have a strong and still spirit to possess this calm acceptance." He grinned as a thought came to him, "A lot of people would run." She placed her hand on his for a second, "I'm not most people, though I was surprised in the town. But now, anything that you do only proves that the one from my dreams is like nobody else, that's all." He found himself with no answer for it and needed time to absorb how she'd said it, so he excused himself and went back to what he'd been doing on the floor. He knotted the end of one strip and cut it with his knife. He looked so intent on whatever he was doing with the skins that she didn't want to disturb him while he worked. She might even learn something, she told herself. It didn't take all that long for the gist of it to come to her, but she was still surprised when he smiled and placed them next to her feet. She was looking at a pair of rabbit fur moccasins. "For you," he said. "Long ago, I learned that while a woman can have the warmest heart, she often finds herself feeling at least a little cold." Amy found herself humbled, "I can't thank you enough for these, Stormfeather, but why?" "I have been here for a little while now," he said, "and I have caught a few rabbits and other animals to eat over the time. I usually stretch out the hides because I think it is bad to waste what you have been given, but I had no use for them myself - until I saw your picture Sheena, and then I knew I had something to make. See if they will fit you." They were a touch on the tight side, but they were so soft, she was sure that they'd stretch easily and they did. He'd sewn a layer of deerskin to the soles, and she found them unbelievably warm and comfortable. At that point, she began to really examine what else he'd been up to and her eyes opened wide in surprise as he held up what he'd almost finished. Amy couldn't believe it. He'd fashioned a vest for her similar to the one in her sketch out of antelope skin. Her mouth fell open. "This is only the outer part," he said, "I want something different for the inside, but I do not have it yet. It is still warm weather now anyway, but now the skins will not be wasted. I think that I know that what you saw might or will happen, Sheena, and it is better to have what you need than need what you do not have, if you can understand, and,..." She saw a bit of a twinkle there, and smiled back, "And?" He shrugged, "I just wanted to make it for you after I saw the drawing. And now I have room to stretch more hides if I need to. I still wonder about your drawing. I was holding a gun." She nodded, "The one that I drew in your hands is right over there by the back door. It's my Pa's old deck gun. He kept it from his sailing days. It's made short to handle in tight places. You use it to clear the deck if you get into a fight with people you don't want on the deck of your ship. You can use it to hunt birds or rabbits, even deer, but that's not what it was made for." Stormfeather smiled a little sadly, "This is one thing that is wrong about your dream, Sheena. Your father saw me looking at it and gave it to me. After he died, I wasted enough of his shells to learn that I can never hit anything with it," the smile turned rueful as he remembered, "so I put it back where I first saw it." She pointed to him and he saw that she spoke with some gravity, "If my Pa gave it to you, then I want you to have it. Please bring it here, and I promise that you'll hit what you aim at almost every time," she winked at him as she went to a shelf for the box of shells. She saw that he'd used only four. He saw her confident expression, but had his doubts. Nonetheless, he did as she asked and took her outstretched hand as she led him to an old shed, where she pulled out an old metal tub of long-dried paint. She moved him to a spot a certain distance from it. "This is a shotgun," she said, "It has a much shorter useful range than a rifle, but it has a punch all the same. This is about as far as you can get for hitting something hard with most of the pellets in the shell. On that one, the left barrel is the straight bore. Remember this distance, and don't fire at anything much farther than this. The other barrel has a choke to punch a little bit farther away. For animals, it doesn't matter much which one you use if you're this close. For birds and rabbits, the right barrel is for farther away, and you might want that then so that you don't destroy the meat. Even so, this one is a bit much for small game. Show me that it's empty now." He broke it open and then closed it after she nodded. "Now aim at the can." The stock was too short for him, so he held it beside him. She could see that it was a mile off, but said nothing for the moment. He looked at her as if he expected some magic from her by the look on his face. "Is this how you were pointing it when you tried it?" He nodded, feeling foolish. She indicated his hand, "Your left hand there on the stock, forget about the gun, just hold it. Point the first or second finger of your left hand right at the can. Hold the gun with the rest. Remember, forget that you're holding the gun, just point your finger." He tried it, and the muzzles shifted. It was what she'd wanted to see. "Perfect!" She handed him a pair of shells and he loaded both barrels. "Now," she said, "point your finger at the can again, and when you think that you're ready, pull only one of the triggers gently, not hard, just enough to let off the shot. And never forget to keep pointing at the can with your finger, not the gun." The shotgun roared and the can flew from them. He was amazed. She told him to walk to the can and shoot it again, remembering the range that she'd said, no more. The result was the same and the can was destroyed, and she loved the way that he smiled. "Again, I thank you," he said. "So you can use it after all?" she asked sweetly. "Yes," he nodded with a grin. "How?" "Most people can't hit a barn with a shotgun, but they never miss when they're pointing their finger at something," she smiled. "Now, what were you saying about my dream being wrong?" He laughed and shook his head in amazement. It was a bit of a dicey moment for Amy, but she gave in to what she felt and stood up on her toes to kiss his cheek quickly, "I knew you could do it, and I have a lot of things to thank you for as well," she grinned as she looked at her feet, "moccasins that feel like heaven on my feet and a beautiful vest." They walked back to the porch where he set the gun down and left to return with some leather from the pile that he had inside. Amy sat down and watched how quickly he worked in some surprise. He looked up from his work, "I want a way to carry it." He watched her eyes roll for a second, but her smirk replaced it instantly, "You know, this way that you have of reading the thoughts of others could get you into trouble. I hadn't even gotten to ask that question yet." "I was saving you the breath of the asking," he laughed, "and it has kept me out of trouble far more than it has gotten me into it." Amy turned away and looked out over the valley and the lengthening shadows that she saw there, trying furiously to change the train of her thoughts while at the same instant, he was trying hard to stop her thoughts from coming to him, as nice as they were to him. He looked at her and wondered how it was that she could think herself to be unattractive. He thought that she was the most beautiful female that he'd ever seen. He'd never been this close to anyone who had this coloration of red hair and green eyes. He'd never seen freckles up close before, and he found that he liked them. Another thing that almost made him shake his head was the way that she saw her body. True, she was thin. But he couldn't imagine that on a frame her size... A little imagination on his part and he could see someone like her with a bit more weight to them still looking wonderful, but he liked her best just as she was. She was pretty lithe, but he didn't think she was ... 'bony' was the word that he detected from her mind. To him, 'bony' was an impossibility with regard to her beauty. To him, she was built like an antelope – all long and slender curves with much grace to her movements. He'd ever seen a bony antelope, not a living one, anyway. He looked at her from where he sat and admired the rear profile of her face. He shook his head to clear it. He'd suddenly wanted to kiss her pretty nose. And that was second only to his rather abrupt need to kiss those lips. Her soft chuckle caused him to look at her grinning back at him. "See?" she laughed, "You'd better be careful, Stormfeather. You never know what I'm trying to send to you, now that I know how to do it." He smiled back at her, "You are a very dangerous woman." He developed a worried look for a moment, "More dangerous every minute." "Thank you for that," she said. She looked down for a moment, "I don't know what I'd have done without you yesterday. I might have even killed the men by myself, but then again, maybe not. Likely I would have just gotten myself killed instead." She looked at him and for the twenty-fifth time since she'd awoken, she admired him. She didn't really know what he was, other than her aunt's word for it, and she was hearing his warnings to her. She thought that perhaps she was being foolish to stay here. It might be better for her if she just went to the barn, saddled up her horse and got the hell away from here and him as fast as she could. But she didn't want to. He might be very different from the men that she'd ever seen and the very few that she'd gotten to know beyond the point of polite hellos and goodbyes, but whatever he really was, she found herself liking him more than enough to want to be close to him. "Hey, after I shot the men down there in the street, I was going to try for the nearer one who made it onto his horse." He looked over and nodded, waiting. "Well," she said, "I was just drawing a bead on him, but before I could get a clear shot, I saw something much darker than you," she pointed to him. "When the dust settled, you were standing up. When you'd dragged him back to put him on the pile, I saw how his throat was ... missing, mostly. Was that you? I mean, was that what you really are? I can't imagine that a man - even one such as you, could do that much damage with his teeth as what I saw had happened to him in such a short time." He nodded, "That was me." "Now I wish that I'd had a real chance to get a good look at what you looked like then. All that I saw was a streak. Would I be in any danger if you were to just change right here?" He shook his head with a sigh, "I was happy that I could help you, Sheena. No, you would not be in danger from me if I changed now. But I do not want to. This has been a strange time for me and for you, my friend. I think you should stay here for the night, unless you want to ride back to the town quickly by yourself as you were thinking. The road will be dark long before you get there." "I do not think it would be wise to go now. If you stay here inside, I would protect you from anything, the way that I feel. I should not have said that you need to be afraid of me. I wanted to see if you feared me. If you stay, then maybe tomorrow I will be able to let you see what I am. Please try to understand it from my side. I have been alone for so long. Today, I made a friend," he smiled hopefully, "I do not want this feeling to end the same day that it began. I am afraid ..." She reached out and placed her hand on his shoulder, marveling at how small it made her hand look by comparison, "I don't know for sure, Stormfeather, but between you and me, I have a lot of trouble trying to imagine you being afraid of anything. You think that I won't want you as my friend if I see you like that, is that it?" He nodded, almost hating himself. "Well, don't worry," she said, "Remember that I saw you in my dreams like that. I'm still not afraid of my friend, but I'm going to listen to your advice. I'll stay here tonight and I'll lock the door as you told me to. I don't know if I can get to sleep like that, locking out my friend seems strange, but I'm going to try. You're not the only one who can read minds. I already knew that you're uncomfortable with the idea of showing me what you look like. If we're friends, then I want you to know that I accept you the way that you are. I'd like to tell you that you shouldn't feel uncomfortable, alright?" He nodded, and then wondered about the thoughtful expression which now spread over her features. "Besides," she mused aloud, "I'm almost beginning to think I ought to stay here with you, though I don't really know why I feel that way, besides liking you an awful lot. I do know that this is about the only place on earth where I feel as though I belong. Without you here, it would be as empty as it was the last time I was here alone. It's a sad feeling to be where you feel as though you belong and it's empty." She looked at his face, "Yesterday, I think I really should have been scared to death in that situation, but I wasn't, mostly because you were there. When I followed you in the dark, I knew that without you there, I'd never have been able to do that." She smiled a little bit shyly, "but because I was with you, I was only tired, not tired and afraid. Now that you're here with me and not only in my dreams or on paper, I always have that same feeling inside, like I'm finally in the right place. I didn't feel that way when I was here to bury my Pa." "Maybe it's not this place at all," she spoke more to herself, "maybe I just belong with you. I sure don't feel like I belong in Santa Fe. I always feel as though I'm playing a game when I'm there, as though I'm pretending to be someone that I'm not." She looked at him again, "I sure don't know. I'll have to see." She slid her arm around his neck and hugged him very briefly. He noticed that her arm stayed on him. "Why do you feel that you might belong here?" he asked, "This is where you grew up. I understand that. You say it is more than that, and that there is something here? This place has magic all around, Sheena. I am trying to think why it makes you feel better to be here." She leaned against him, "I think it might be both you and this place. My mother told me that this is where my parents, .... " "Well, not right here," she blushed, "she told me that if they made the slightest sound while my brother slept, he'd wake up and scream that he was afraid and wanted to be with them. He was maybe five when he started that and it lasted for years. So they'd wait until he was asleep for the evening, and they'd lock the house door and go up to the burial ground to fool around for a little while on the soft grass up there because it was so peaceful. My brother never woke up whenever they did that." She didn't notice that Stormfeather now sat looking straight ahead and listening intently. He didn't dare to move as she spoke. "In fact," she chuckled softly, "when her time came, she was in labor with me for over two days, and since I seemed to be taking my time, she told me that she went up there to bathe in the clear pool, since my Pa had gone to plow in the fields and he had my brother along with him. He kept coming back to check on her, but she finally told him that it would be a while longer, the way that I was going. But before she got all the way to the pool, she knew that I was about ready to make my appearance, so the grass was where I was born, the same spot where I was made, I guess." Stormfeather Ch. 05 She noticed his silence after that and asked what was wrong. "I would say nothing," he said with a soft smile, "but it would be the wrong way to say this. Nothing is wrong, Sheena." He put his arm around her shoulders and smiled to assure her, "The longer we are together, the more that I find to wonder about. The place that you talk about is full of magic - and old spirits. If that is where you were made, as you say it, and where you were birthed, I think that I must become more like you now, and not be surprised at anything anymore. They might never have known it, but they certainly were not alone there, and your birth must have been witnessed by many spirits." She liked his soft smile to her as he said, "This says much about you to me. I begin to think that you were given a gift there which only now comes out." "I was asked by the old one who came to me up there after I found the cave if I would wait for someone while I was here. I still do not know everything that he meant. He said I was to look for two, but I think that he meant two of my kind. I have seen no one here of my kind but him, and him not often at all. The cave mouth is almost always empty when I look there. He was not there when I looked for him today." He thought about her arm around his neck and the way that they sat holding each other. No one had even touched him in so long. No one had wanted to. It made him a little sad, but he was sure that her arm would leave him very soon. He had something to ask, and was almost certain of her reaction. He lowered his arm. "You do not know the meaning of the braids that you drew on us both, do you?" He kept his eyes straight ahead and looked off into the distance. The only thing that he really wasn't certain about was why he seemed to be afraid to breathe just then. He felt her arm shift, but it didn't leave him. She only drew it back far enough to place her palm against the point where his neck met his shoulder, over the old scar of his bite. He felt the warmth of her hand and cherished it against him. "Yes I do," she said very quietly, "at least, I think that I do. Tell me if I'm wrong, but I think it means that you and I are together, and not only to travel. I think that it means that you're my husband in that drawing." She watched his head turn toward her in wonder, "How do you know this? This is the way of wedded people for a time after the wedding, and only among the tribe where I was born. They took the custom from my father's people. I have met many from other tribes in my journeys, but none of them do this. I am certain that you didn't know it this morning." "I saw the way that you looked at me, and how quickly you left," she laughed softly. "It made me stare at what I'd drawn until my eyes felt as though they'd fall out onto the paper. When I finally got it, I was sure they were going to leave my head!" Amy realized what she was saying and faltered a little, "Would you like a cup of coffee? I'd like one before I turn in." She had absolutely no idea how she was going to fall asleep any time soon, but she now wanted at least a little disengagement and space. He wondered how she could think like this at such a time, but nodded dumbly and waited while she was gone the twelve minutes that it took. It took half that time for him to realize how she might feel about what she'd just said. Amy was cursing her fool mouth. She'd spoken the truth, but surely there must have been a better way to say that. As she struggled with herself, she decided that it was how the scene came to her. If it was meant to be, they'd both have to deal with it if it came to pass, and perhaps it wouldn't anyway. She only prayed that the statement wouldn't cost her his friendship. Hellfire, she thought, a man like him, with me? What the hell would he want that for? I can't see it happening either, but if it's what lies ahead – if my dreams can suddenly show what can happen, it's not a bad thing, is it? She tried very hard to turn her mind from the possibility before her body had time to be concerned with the probability. Too late, she realized with a tiny groan that she could already feel her pulse at her throat, and worried about the stronger one that now began to make its presence known. Amy sighed to herself. She was more than prepared to admit to herself that she was attracted to him. She just wished that it wasn't on such an almost primal level. A word from him coupled with one of her own thoughts, and she'd felt the heat of her flushed face, though she hadn't been blushing at the thought. When she returned to sit with him again, she held out the metal cup with a flourish and a grin, "Here's your coffee, my maybe husband-to-be. Hurry up and take it, or I'll have to break the spell with my curses when my fingers get burned and then you'll never want me as a wife." As soon as she sat down next to him, the seam in her pants caused her to regret it. It was just absurd to her, how tight the seam had become. Rather than squirm visibly, she clamped her knees even tighter together. He took the cup and found that he had to set it down as he stared, or there wouldn't be anything left to drink. "Sheena, these dreams that you have surely make more sense to you than to me. You sound as though you just accept what they have shown to you. Are you saying that you want me as a husband?" The thought, as suddenly pleasant as it seemed to him was bending his brain. Inwardly he'd noticed the flush in her cheeks right away. A part of him welcomed the sign, automatically weighing chances, but he pushed that back instantly. It wasn't every day – or decade - that he met someone who liked to talk with him. Amy was very afraid that she might have said the wrong thing in her quip to him, but was at something of a loss for an idea to place him at his ease again. "Before I answer that," she said, "you ought to know that it's the way of my people to make light of things. I'm not making fun of the idea – especially since I drew it without knowing what it means to you. But we like to joke to make ourselves and those we're near laugh, just as you did a moment ago." "If you want my answer to it, not at the moment," she said truthfully, "I want my new friend to be a better friend, to say the least before anything like that. The way that I see it is that we have some sort of journey together – as strange as all of this seems to me. I don't know where, when or how. I just drew what I saw us doing in that one instant. I don't know what brought us there like that. But the idea of traveling with you looks much better to me than teaching in a school for the rest of my life. And having you as a companion and friend is much better than how I spend my time alone now, struggling to remain awake. As for being even closer than that, I have no idea right now." She looked over at him a little searchingly, "Is that a good answer?" She felt as though she'd done a lovely dance on a knife's edge for the moment, but his smile said a lot to her even before his answer. "Yes," he said with a nod as he sipped the steaming mug carefully. When it was safely away from his lips again, he offered his quiet comment, "One has to be very careful when stepping on the rocks close to the water's edge. It is all too easy to fall in." Amy wondered about it for a second. When she realized it was much the same as she'd been thinking, she looked at him to see his slight smile. Amy fought the urge to panic. She'd been as clear as an open window with her answer, but he'd also seen perhaps how she was feeling. She felt his warm hand on her forearm, and some of her nervous tension seemed to fall from her. Looking a little sideways at him, she noticed that he was studying the distant ridge-line, "A lot depends on how much one wants to swim at the time," he said, "better to be ready than to step onto those stones not really wanting to risk the splash." He turned to her and rather than feeling foolish, Amy asked him what was behind his tiny smile. "Not much, Sheena. I only enjoy it here with you and I am happy to be this close to the eyes that I saw in the visions" he said, "A good thing that I didn't know how close you were to me when I saw them. I think that I would have been drawn to come, if only to see you like this. Imagine me in the place where you live." His statement held more than the words and she knew it. "I think the way that we met yesterday was terrible," Amy replied, "I was so happy to see that you were real, but we had no time for anything. I can agree that if you had come to Santa Fe, it would have caused a lot of people to be upset, probably me among them, since I'd have been even more shocked to see you than I was last night. But that's only if you came like this, dressed to travel in the way that you always knew. Did you see how I drew myself in that scene? Do you think that I'd cause any less upset if I came to Santa Fe like that?" She decided to enjoy being with him and that her fretting was getting in the way of it so she purposely set her cup down, leaned against him and wrapped her hand around as much of his bicep as she was able. The feel of him against her was indescribable. "Let me tell you something. I drew what I saw – exactly as I recalled it. I think you might guess that I've never in my life been dressed as I drew myself there. But I'll say this;" She locked her blazing green eyes on his, "If that's what I have to wear to be able to be in that place wherever it is, traveling with you, to stand next to you like that if you're in danger," she exhaled, "Stormfeather, I wouldn't think twice." She let go of his arm to pick up her cup and took a long sip while looking away before she burst out laughing at his shocked expression. She turned back and waved the cup at him for punctuation, "ESPECIALLY if you made the clothes for me," she grinned, holding one moccasin-shod foot out in front of them. "Having said that," Amy continued after setting her empty cup down to hold onto him again, "if you had clothes that wouldn't cause my great aunt to fall down clutching at her failing heart in shock, I'd have been overjoyed to see you in Santa Fe then." She looked at him with a soft smile, "I'm saying that it's a different place and it needs different clothes, that's all. If you could get past the discomfort of the clothes, I'd be proud to be seen with you anywhere, my friend." She nodded when she saw his smile, "I don't choose my friends to match the scenery. You just need clothes to fit it sometimes. I think I'd look pretty silly if I were here in a long gown dressed for a ball." "I wanted to ask you," she said, "do you need to stay outside for some reason tonight? If I'm not in any kind of danger from you, why do you have to be outside? Or aren't you housebroken?" "You always surprise me," he replied, "I have never known anyone who could do this. I do not need to be outside," he said, "I thought that you would feel more comfortable that way. If I stay outside, I only change to keep warmer when the night gets cool before the dawn." She laughed a little, "Tell me, do I look and act like a delicate lady to you?" She smirked at his expression, "I didn't think so. So come on inside. We have to clean the guns anyway. I'll teach you how to keep yours clean first. Then I'll go upstairs to bed. You can sleep on that bed in there. It was my bed when we all lived here." It happened somewhat as she'd said. They cleaned and oiled the weapons, and Amy reloaded her Winchester. She left the Sharps rifle empty. "You ought to clean that shotgun at least within a day of using it," she told him as she stood up. He nodded again, and before he could look up, she closed the short distance between them and kissed him very quickly before stepping back, "I'm going to turn in now, so goodnight, Stormfeather." He smiled and wished her a good night as she started to walk away, but she came right back to kiss him again, this time longer. "And thank you for saving my life yesterday." She went upstairs to bed, and he tried to make friends with her old bed, but sleep didn't come to him right away. He finally got up and left the house quietly to look around. Looking to the plain, he saw the half-moon just brushing the edge of the mountains off in the distance and closer in, he saw the ridge where he'd sat a few weeks before. He looked back at the door, and sat down with a soft smile. It had been awhile, he admitted as he clutched the tiny pendant at his breast, but he found himself asking for something in his prayers to the only gods which made sense to him after his mother's death. He hoped they weren't too old or far away to hear him. He almost couldn't remember the last time that he'd felt anything like what he was feeling now. Lying in the bed in the comforting darkness of the upper storey of the house, Amy found herself feeling several emotions as she sifted through her thoughts, and though she realized that they were mostly pleasant, she was also concerned over a few things. If her crazy dreams were any solid indicators to her life in the real world, there would be even more difficult decisions for her to make very soon. She'd lived her life up to this point with a fair amount of self-reliance for a woman her age. Her one semi-romantic experience hadn't changed her much. But if her dreams were anything to go by and something tangible happened between herself and Stormfeather, there would be a lot of changes required in how she lived. In her world, she had a bit of worth and a means of providing for herself independently. The other side of that was that she was already becoming something like the personification of a word which she thought was applied so unfairly for its unwelcome connotations of failure in a way. Where she thought herself to be independent, the largely male-driven society of which she was a part categorized her as a spinster, or it soon would. She smirked to herself at the thought, - and it was all because she hadn't found a man for herself. It was absurd. Amy had already come to terms with it herself – a man such as she wanted just hadn't been made yet. That was what she'd always told herself. Along with her sudden and shocking ability to see him as she slept, it had come to her that such a man had actually been made long ago. It had just taken all of this time for them to learn of each other and somehow drift together like this. She wondered if he knew it as well. Amy turned her thoughts to him. She recognized that she was attracted to him in more ways by the minute and wondered if there might be a danger there. Well if what she'd seen were to happen there would certainly be some, she conceded. She was beginning to see that to be with him would come at a cost to her. She doubted that there would be much of anything of the life of Amy Monaghan left as she knew it. But to be able to walk with him, she sighed to herself as her fingers inexorably crept the distance to her already damp sex, to have him for herself and be able to drift off in those arms and wake to see him there with her in the morning dimness, that was worth a lot, she admitted. To have the love of one like him was worth anything to her. There was something of a clear notion which came to her in all of this confusion. She felt herself wanting to throw off all of the concerns of a young woman in her society when she was with him. All of the constraints and niceties which she'd been taught must be observed really meant very little to Amy if she weighed them against him as they'd sat together. She recognized that two things had come to her mind out there on the porch, and both of them held something profound for her to consider. In the first place, she found that they were growing comfortable with each other very quickly. There were odd little bumps and jars to their time together, but these seemed to have a lot to do with the things which came as little revelations to them about each other. Mostly, she just reveled in how nice it felt to be with him, and thinking about that, she was fairly certain that he felt the same way. There was an almost overwhelming feeling to her that they belonged together, a feeling something like a homecoming to a place where one had never been before, but belonged nevertheless. She'd never felt anything like it. It was the other part of that which she found oddly compelling. With parts of his body in any sort of contact with her own, and with his subtle and pleasant scent coming to her, she found herself almost overwhelmed with something that had never come to her so strongly before. Amy found herself almost aching to throw off the last of the constraints that she felt and just give in to the mounting tension of the lust that she felt toward him. Her hand moved to caress her breast for a time and her fingers eventually found the small nipple there as hard as a pebble. Her other hand continued to cup her sex as she noted her pulse there hard between her legs. The hand at her breast traced a long caress down along her body wishing that she could feel his hands on her as she parted the intimate folds to find her bud waiting for her almost painfully. Her thoughts went to him and his present location downstairs. She wanted more than this, she realized. She ached to be filled more than anything, but wondered at her self-control and whether she'd let any sound slip past her lips if she continued with what she needed to do at the moment. She knew that she wouldn't be satisfied with only her own gentle caresses for much longer. She wanted to go to him and just ... But it wasn't quite the time for it, she judged, and was thinking to just settle for some relief as quietly as she could when she heard his weight shift on the bed down there, and in another moment, she heard the door close after him. Amy wasn't sure what significance this had, but a part of her knew what her response would be now that he was at least out of earshot, hopefully. She made one more light and tracing circle with her finger before doing something out of the ordinary routine for her. Since she felt herself ready for it, she subtly pinched the nub between her thumb and forefinger and was thrown ahead into something which was close to the release that she now craved, but it wasn't quite there yet. She thought of her hairbrush, but knew that it was too far away to retrieve before her need overcame her ability to grab for the brush. Drawing from a memory of one of her dreams, she visualized him there over her as she slid two fingers of her other hand into her passage and did her best to hold her mouth shut as she was overtaken by one of the fastest-rising orgasms of her life. She rode the crest of it with her head hard back on the pillow. A very quiet cry escaped her before she found herself drifting down like a falling leaf, and she humbly asked whatever force drove her dreams if she might gain some insight into loving someone like him. Out on the porch, he looked up in the direction of the soft and barely audible sound which came to him where he sat. Like everything else about his new friend, it was something of a surprise that only seemed right to him if he considered it for a moment. He found himself nursing a very slight desire to ask her quietly if she'd found the release that she'd been seeking as one would politely ask any close friend in other circumstances how they'd slept. After the thought passed, he examined his own heart with regard to the friendship that they'd found between themselves. Stormfeather had no idea about some of the things that he'd wondered about over all of the time that he'd wandered. He still hadn't come to grips with the things that the female traveler had told him about a prophecy. What he'd heard from the guardian at the cave was unclear as well. With a soft smile, he realized that right now he didn't care about either of these riddles. He only cared about the beautiful dream-walker. It was a pleasant thought to him that she'd sought and found her release just now, and he was beginning to become more than conscious of the hope that he found within himself that they could find themselves on many paths together. It seemed to be what her dream-walking presaged to them, and he knew that he already cared deeply for her. Stormfeather Ch. 05 His next thought made him smile a little crookedly as he wondered if she had held an image of anyone specific in her mind as she'd pleasured himself. Despite what she'd indicated, he was certain that someone with her rare beauty would be much sought after by the men in her world. He thought for a moment to seek this in her thoughts but then thought that it would be something of an invasive gesture on his part and decided to leave it alone. But the mind is a thing with the ability to process several ideas at once in even the most ordinary individual. In someone like him, it could handle a multitude of tasks simultaneously. Almost before he'd made the decision not to seek her thoughts, he had his answer and it almost knocked him down as the intensity of her feelings came to him. He felt uplifted, almost deliriously happy and most of all, he felt so very humbled that she'd thought of him in this way. Amy's dreams, as if in answer to her request, showed her what she'd wanted to know. She found herself circling above him for a time as he made love with his wife in the home they'd shared long ago and before her murder. There were differences to this dream that took it a little apart from most of the others. In this one, like the terrible vision of the showdown, she found herself being able to at least feel some of what his wife had felt then, and there were times during which she'd felt almost as a passenger within his wife's body, feeling the effects of what she did with him, and more to the point of her quest this night – what she'd done to him. Stormfeather Ch. 06 The trouble with writing in this genre is that somewhere, somehow, you have to stick in some reasons why and how to make it all work. Well I got a lot of that out of the way in the last chapter. :) Every once in a while, I write a chapter with the thought in mind of seeing the scene as Hollywood might do it. This is one of those chapters and I hope it's enjoyed. So if you're a fan of Stormfeather, clear the decks, get settled in comfortably, and imagine that you're watching your boy work here. ;) ---------------------- Beyond the buildings of Amy's farm, there was a more or less gradual rise to the ground. It could be a bit of a chore, but to walk up that rise led one to the caves, the old burial mounds and a stream fed from the plain above that. The stream eventually wound its way down to pass not far from the farmhouse, which is why the house had been built there in the first place. But there was another feature to this stream. Before it wound its way down the grade, it passed through an arroyo that it had carved its stream bed through the middle of. It was an odd little place, full of sounds and echoes, an almost magical, naturally-formed space with the stream entering at one end, flowing through a pool, and leaving at the other. Some animals came here from the land below and some made their way from the plain above. All of them came for water. Sometimes there were strange meetings between the kinds of animals, but usually everyone only wanted to drink and more usual meetings were postponed until later. Right now, as the night began to yield to the increasing light of day, a bruised and desperate creature is trying to reach that spot before her last reserves of strength leave her. The red wolf knew it would be daylight soon as she padded wearily through the cold stream.. She didn't dare move quickly for fear of making more noise than the quiet burble of the shallow water that she was walking through to hide her tracks and scent. More speed was largely out of the question anyway. The thin mist which rose from the water helped a little to hide her and she was thankful for that, though it chilled her slightly. She hadn't thought that it would be coming off the water at all tonight. Every little bit helps if you're the one being hunted. Mostly, she just wanted to find a quiet place to be allowed to die in, because there wasn't much else for her to do, the way that she felt. The pack that she'd been born into had all been killed, her entire family gone in minutes. A juvenile just past her first year, she wasn't the largest female and guessed it to be the reason that she wasn't one of the primary targets, At least she'd managed to get away in the darkness and confusion while the large strangers made the effort to be sure that there were no survivors. They'd missed her somehow, but she was almost certain that her slim luck wouldn't hold for very much longer. The fight hadn't lasted long. There were only four of the interlopers, but they were so powerful that none could stand against them. Even the smaller female among them was far larger than her and looked to be easily triple her weight. Mostly, she'd been beaten with their teeth early on in the fight, the blows coming from their open mouths before they'd gotten down to the killing. What passed for hostile and more or less accidental swats from their forelegs had knocked her down and bowled her over more than once, they were that large and strong. She'd also been bitten many times, but thankfully there seemed to be no blood from any of the wounds that she'd taken the time to examine in the darkness afterward. At least her reflexes hadn't failed her and she'd had the luck to be able to roll with most of the blows and seen her one chance to escape as her parents took on the largest intruders in a hopeless and desperate melee. The absence of open wounds on her was a blessing in spite of one of her eyes swelling almost shut. If they'd had the scent of her blood to follow, she wouldn't have gotten this far. She knew of only one place above ground where she might be able to live out the night and just maybe the next day. She didn't know if she wanted to live that long, the way that she hurt. Everything on her ached now and she was almost too exhausted to go on, but this seemed to be her only option. She didn't have the strength to make for any of the other dens, and anyway, they'd seemed to know just where to look. They'd only have to dig her out to finish what they'd begun. She made her way down to the place where the stream opened into a pool. The little arroyo was filled with the mist which rose from the water and it made seeing anything difficult. She stopped to consider. If only the water were warmer, she'd have tried to lie low there with her head just above the surface, but it was just too cold for that, and besides, if she got out afterward, there was always the smell of her fur as it began to dry. She knew that it would be like a homing beacon to their noses. Worried and near the end of her reserves of strength, she half-limped over to a small alcove in the rocks. She got in as far as she could and turned around to face outward. It didn't offer all that much of a defensive position, but it was the only one available. If they found her here, it wouldn't matter much anyway. She eased herself down painfully with a quiet, exhausted groan and waited for either the reprieve which she judged was unlikely or a hopefully quick death when she was found. ---------------------- Stormfeather was up before the dawn and working his way to the caves. He hoped to find the elder there, but again found the entrance deserted. He looked down in case there were indications of the elder's passage. His eyes opened wide at what he saw in the thin moonlight. Tracks. Several sets. After a moment, he knew that whatever had made them moved on four legs. It was the size of them that caused him some concern. He made out four individual sets, and what he noticed then caused him more concern. They only went out. There were none going back in. They were recent, he knew, but still hours old. He followed for a short time until he lost the trail on hard stone not porous enough to hold a scent. He stood up to look around, and seeing nothing, he turned to go to the arroyo. -------------------- She opened her eyes at the sounds of someone approaching and tried to prepare herself for her final desperate struggle. After a minute, she knew it was only a single animal, not the four whom she feared, and there were not enough sounds even for one of them, no matter how stealthily they came. Though large, this one moved much more quietly. She lowered her head again and kept watch. What she saw almost caused her to quake, but she managed to hold still. She'd never seen anything like this one before. There was enough about the creature for her to feel some sort of kinship to it, not that it had changed the outcome the last time she'd felt this way. The four interlopers had been something like her kind as well, and that had gone terribly. She hardly dared to breathe. -------------------- He walked quietly to one end of the pool and slowly eased himself into the cold water after removing his breechcloth to keep it dry. A quick look at the sky told him that he was here in time. He stood still, bent slightly at the waist, his hands beginning to throb from the cold liquid that they were immersed in. But he'd been correct about the time. The first trout who'd come nosing along only beginning to think about food found itself airborne as his hand flipped it out onto the bank where it lay flopping in surprise. The sound of his motion almost caused her to jump, but she forced herself to lie still. She could barely make him out like this in the mist, but it took only a minute for her to realize that he wasn't hunting her, he was after his breakfast. She'd seen the fish before and had wanted a way to get one for herself, but she wasn't built for it and had to settle for any half-eaten ones left by others. He held still and waited for the next trout to happen by. His nose told him of a slightly different smell here, though it wasn't really out of place. He knew that many animals came here to drink and the place held many of their residual smells. Another trout flew onto the bank. ----------------------- Amy had been up long enough to make herself some coffee and look around. She saw that he was gone somewhere and hoped that he hadn't left altogether. She was sure that he wouldn't just leave without a word to her and seeing his weapons here meant that he must be around somewhere. She set her empty cup down with a shrug. The water would be cold, but that couldn't be helped. If she were here alone, she'd have waited until midday, but she thought that right now she'd have the best chance at being undisturbed, and the simple truth of it was that she needed a bath, cold or otherwise. She found her mother's largest towel. It was the softest, and since her mother's death, she'd been the only one to use it. Amy pulled on her jeans and a cotton shirt, and then saw her new moccasins. They'd be perfect; she thought and almost wished that he were here just to thank him for the gift of them again. She was almost out of the door when she went back and picked up her old pistol as an afterthought to begin the walk up the rocky slope. ---------------------- He stepped back out of the pool and moved the six trout there together. He waited only for the last of them to stop thrashing feebly. After this exercise of will and self-control in the icy water, he didn't want to chance losing one to a lucky flip back into the pool. He crouched on one knee, waiting and listening for a moment as the water dripped from his wet black fur. He glanced up at a motion in the slowly thinning mist and he knew that he was in a bit of an uncomfortable spot. Before he could do anything to warn her, Amy appeared as a ghostly form in the fog and quickly took off her clothes to step into the pool. He had no idea what to do now. He thought about it briefly and decided to go back to the form that she'd known him by before she caught sight of him like this. It was bad enough as it was, he thought. If she saw him like this, she'd likely be frightened, no matter how many times she'd told him that she'd been prepared to see him this way. But another motion caused him to freeze. He stared hard through the mist. What he saw following her almost defied belief. Amy's passage had not gone unobserved. The four of them had only thought to have a quick drink before going back to the cave where they'd left the other place they'd come from. Things were now looking even better, they thought. This looked as though it would be a suitable new hunting ground now that the smaller competition had been dealt with. And now they'd found a meal. They knew that these two-legged beasts could be tough to hunt if they were in groups with their sharp sticks, but there was only one of them here, and the females were even easier to kill than the males. The red wolf hiding in the alcove wondered how this could get any worse. First the large black one and then this human with the light skin and patchy fur. Now the very same four-footed killers who had ripped up her own pack were here, and even if she could summon up the strength to run, there was no chance of it at all. She tried to make herself even smaller and trembled slightly as she slowly eased herself back, deeper into the alcove. --------------------- Amy set her blanket and revolver down on the bank, stepped in quickly, and had just come back up after ducking her head under. She had no intention of staying long, she was just going to wash quickly and get out, now that the coldness had driven out the cobwebs. When she turned to the bank a few seconds later, the largest of her pursuers was right there and began growling. That set the other three to begin, and after the initial shock of it, Amy saw her only hope of defense out of her reach. The large male was almost standing on her pistol as he leaned forward and considered the timing of his onslaught. This would be easy from his point of view. Getting the body out of the water for the meal was the problem. He hesitated as he heard his brother begin to snarl in alarm to be joined almost immediately by the two females. Something was wrong by their sounds. He looked back and saw them looking past him. Turning his head the other way, the fur along his own neck and shoulders began to rise and he joined in the snarling chorus as he backed up a step cautiously. He had a lot of grudging respect for what he saw, but with a meal right in front of him he sure wasn't going to back down. All of them against only one, he thought. He liked the odds. Amy followed their line of sight and saw him. She recognized him instantly from her drawings and knew that this had to be Stormfeather in his feral form. She was uncertain of the outcome of this, but felt better immediately. She only hoped that he'd been truthful about her not needing to fear him when he was in this shape. The yellow eyes almost glowed as he knelt there tensely, his left knee down and his left hand on the rock surface. His right hand was on his raised knee. He'd have looked relaxed if she hadn't learned from her drawings of him. He was wound tightly. She could see the bunched muscles all over him. The snarls continued as she watched his right hand move to give her subtle directions. He indicated this with gentle waves of his fingers. He was telling her to duck down a little slowly and move out of the way as well. Amy eased herself back carefully and let herself crouch a little lower, wondering how this would go. Stormfeather wondered this as well, but made no sound. The four wolves that he was looking at were far larger than the usual Gray Wolves that he knew lived in this part of the world. The females were easily two hundred pounds and the males looked to be about two hundred fifty -- more than double the weight of the largest Gray Wolf. They were much larger than the grays and taller. Though their legs looked to be proportionately shorter, they made up the difference with their far greater weight and obvious musculature. This was another breed entirely. Bitterly regretting his choice to leave his weapons down in the house, he sighed to himself as he prepared. This was going to hurt. Three of them drew back another step as his own deep snarls began. By himself, he could drown out the noise of them all combined and in the arroyo, the sound seemed to come from the very stones of the place. The intensity of their sounds rose another notch in warning, but he matched the increase easily as the tension between the sides of this confrontation went to the next level. Rather than let them just grow louder in answer, he took it up another step with his body language and the pack tensed even more as he lowered his head threateningly and pulled his lips back from long and wicked-looking teeth. Whenever top-level predators square off, the fight - if it comes - is foreshadowed by posturing to allow one or the other some time to decide if discretion is the better course. In this small place, there was not enough room for one party to disengage quickly without the fear of a rear attack. No avoidance was possible here and so this fight was inevitable. Stormfeather knew this, but his own posturing was staged to unnerve the followers since their leader was too absorbed and single-minded to back down. Had he been alone here, he might have attempted a cautious withdrawal, seeing no reason to spill blood over pride. But with the dream-walker -- his only human friend - in peril, there was only one course open to him. Amy pulled back from the bank even more. The three followers eased back while doing their best to look as menacing as possible. They weren't sure about this now. But their leader hadn't changed his stance or his intent. There was food right here, and he wasn't about to just hand their prey over to this dark two-legged thing. It hadn't occurred to him that this threat might be trying to protect the one in the water. He could only think one way. He saw this as a fight over food which just hadn't been killed yet. He thought their chances were good and he'd sweat the details of dragging the human from the pool afterward. The one who was hiding among the rocks wanted to hide her face at the sounds. In the pool, Amy began to tremble until Stormfeather showed her again that he wasn't without coherent thought. He stopped snarling for a moment but kept glaring at his opposition, since to look away now would almost certainly trigger their only possible response. His voice when it came was loud and rasping. "Do not look at them now, Sheena. Look at me. They must face my challenge or leave," he said, careful to omit what he knew to be obvious -- that nobody was just going to leave peacefully now. He clicked the nails of his left hand on the rock to draw her attention. When she heard the sound of it in the snarls, Amy's eyes went right to the spot. It seemed ludicrous to her, but she found herself looking at something else after a second. She had a good view of most of his masculinity from this angle and had a thought that men faced a disadvantage against threats from quadrupeds. Even what he was now looked to have this liability. As terrified of the pack as the small red wolf was, her attention shifted to the crouching beast. She'd heard human speech before, but this was no human like any that she'd ever seen. She was more confused than ever as she lay staring at him. Which was the biggest threat to her? Who was hunting whom here? The fight would be on the opposite bank if it began. Her mind began again to weigh her chances of a quiet getaway in the confusion until she saw the beginning of the large dark beast's slow and deliberate movement and she gave up all hope of a discrete departure as her eyes went wide. The only thing holding her mouth shut was the stone surface under her chin. With nothing at all under her own jaw, Amy's mouth promptly fell open while Stormfeather played his last card in the final seconds of the standoff stage of this. Both Amy and the unseen wolf gaped as he slowly rose to his feet and tensed in readiness to do this thing while giving the intruders a good look at what they would be dealing with very soon. Inside his mind, there were changes happening in final preparation. His vision narrowed slightly. Rather than glare at them as a group, his eyes flicked from one member of the pack to the next, searching for weaknesses, looking for past injuries which might require care on the part of one of them. He categorized their sizes and assigned a threat ranking to each one. It was totally unconscious on his part and he didn't think about it at all. It was just how he put together his plan for this. He knew that he was ready when his preliminary plan clicked in his mind. It was already done and he'd visualized them lying dead. In this form, the increased distance between his ankles and the rest of his feet gave him quite a bit more height. The sound of the wolves rose to an almost soprano wavering note as they took in seven full feet of resolute and barely restrained wrath. He seemed to swell even more as he filled his lungs and then threw his head forward to signal that the negotiations were over. It began as a barking snarl but shifted quickly and the sound of his angry roar hurt their ears. Everyone within earshot knew that it was no longer a challenge, threat, or warning to leave. It was a declaration of murderous intent. All four wolves in the pack now took another step back, though it was already far too late to leave and they knew it. Amy had no choice but to stare at him. She wondered briefly what would happen now, but had her answer a half-second later. Stormfeather Ch. 06 There was a loud new sound in the arroyo. It sounded like a large piece of flannel being ripped in two. The flash which accompanied that noise blinded the pack and they pulled back. They should have clustered tightly together until their retinas recovered and their vision returned to normal. But that wasn't what happened. Instead, all hell broke loose, and their snarls were replaced by shocked yelps and shrieks of surprised pain as they found him among them dealing death. Amy waded forward, making the most of her chance to pick up her Colt. She stepped back again, holding the black powder weapon well above the water and hoping for a clear shot. She understood his request now. If she'd kept her gaze on the pack, she'd have been blinded now as well. But she wondered what good she might do, if any. He seemed to be in the middle of a gray tornado. It didn't take long for Stormfeather to begin to pare down the odds against him. Temporarily blinded as they were, they were doing more damage to each other than to him as they snapped at the slightest touch against them in their fear, though he was far from unscathed. Stormfeather's vision narrowed down as the wildness in him surged within his breast. Something deep inside of him wanted to make the point that if they'd lacked the heart for this fight, they should have remained in whatever dens they'd crawled from. He swung his claws and connected solidly against the large leader. Besides the damage from the strike, the wolf landed hard against a boulder and lay winded for a moment. Facing three wolves now, Stormfeather rode the pain of their bites as they tried to lock on and pull him down. He bellowed and one of them fell away with a dislocated jaw. The others hesitated and he took full advantage of it to clamp his left claws around the muzzle of the second male. Grabbing what he could of the breast fur, he lifted him so that his front feet were off the ground and flailing in the air. The wolf hung in pain and confusion for only half a second before he was released. With one of his carotid arteries opened and spraying, the second male was already on his way out and turned to run. Stormfeather grabbed one hind leg to swing him against the rock wall and then threw the carcass over the heads of the pair of females. It bought him the time to close the distance that they'd begun to open as they'd tried to back away. He also hoped that the leader would see the threat to whichever one was the lead female and respond to it, since he couldn't reach the male quickly from where he now stood blocked. The leader lay on his side stunned with his bruised shoulder and ribs feeling as though they were on fire, but as his vision cleared and he could regain some focus, he was looking right at the small red wolf there across the pool from him where she'd hidden herself. It answered a question that he'd had in his mind since he now saw the last of the ones they'd killed, but she was insignificant in this fight. He'd be back to finish her later -- if they survived this. He'd never been up against anything like this beast before. He rolled upright and began to stand, but was knocked almost flat by the impact of something loud creasing up the front of his skull. His vision was jarred and the painful flashes which he saw just goaded him now. He looked away from the small wolf and sought the cause of his new pain. The human in the pool was wreathed in some stinking fumes which made him want to choke. He shook his head and looked again, thinking that if this human in the water were a threat as well, then he'd welcome the chance at winning something from this mess and drew back his lips. Amy knew that the .44 caliber Colt was almost a lightweight here, but she was still so very thankful to have it and at this distance it was formidable. But what she faced possessed a much stronger skull than any wolf that she'd ever seen. The shallow angle had deflected her first bullet between his eyes. She cocked the hammer and used her free hand to brace her hold as she aimed at a more upright surface on him. The leader was distracted by the painful cry that he heard from his mate and looked back for a second to see her dying as her last breaths gurgled past her torn windpipe from where she'd been thrown. It hurt him to see, but before he could feel sorrow, the sight fuelled his fury. The two-footed thing would die for this. He cared for nothing else now. The creature he now hated more than anything stood dripping with his female's blood from his snout to his chest and his raging bellow sent a misty red spray of her blood from his teeth as he turned to seek his next victim. The pack leader needed only a few seconds to regain control over his legs and wobbly footing and then he'd deal with the large dark one from behind and then the human. Remembering her as a threat for the moment, he turned to look ahead and again there was a cloud of the foul smoke and that sound. He tensed to spring, but his limbs lacked the power to obey his brain. There was a dull emptiness deep in his chest. Another clap like nearby thunder and he was losing breath. He sank to his belly and twitched in the blackness around him. With three shots left, Amy looked for a way to help Stormfeather, but saw that it was an impossibility from this angle and began to wade closer, hoping for some kind of shot to present itself. She wondered what kind of wolves these were. She'd never seen anything like them in her life. Her experience with Gray Wolves told her they were usually far too shrewd and savvy to ever allow themselves to get caught like this -- not unless they were insane with hunger. Whatever these were, they didn't look malnourished in the least. She got about as close as she could get. To close the distance further would mean that she'd have to backtrack to a shallower spot and step out. The water where she stood was almost four feet deep with no toehold or step visible. She groaned in frustration. Even if she had a clear shot, she doubted her ability to pull it off now because of the way that she shuddered from the cold water. The last wolf was desperately trying to break off the fight to run, but Stormfeather's blood was up and he wouldn't allow it. It took only a few seconds more and there was silence but for the thin babble of the shallow parts of the stream. He stood still as Amy set the Colt down on the bank and listened to his breathing. He held his breath to listen for a few seconds, and alternated the periods of stillness with several careful sniffs and sharp, heavy exhalations. Her own breath had almost a staccato sound to it from her shivering. There was a thin whine of pain from one of them, and he sprang to finish the butchery. Amy wondered if he was still aware of her or whether it might be better if she just kept still. She had her answer a few moments later when he turned to grab the leg of the leader to drag him away. Though at the very threshold of death, the large brute tried to turn his head in a last attempt at defiance. Stormfeather felt the motion and nearly took the great head off with a blow meant to break the neck. After so many years of solitude and now finding someone who'd befriended him, the thought of how this could have ended kept his adrenal gland open wide and he bellowed again to dump some of the tension. He looked beyond the body into Amy's shocked face and wondered how he could possibly explain what she'd just seen. He decided that he couldn't and turned away, grabbing the other male's foot to drag them both out of the arroyo with some difficulty because of the slippery footing. It wasn't lost on her that he was dragging over a quarter ton of dead weight. Amy was speechless as she stood stock still. She'd assumed that in this shape, there might be a more visceral sort of violence underneath. She just hadn't been prepared for the astonishing ferocity and power of it. After a moment, she was fine and more than grateful for what he'd done. It was just that moment where she'd seen into those eyes that had shaken her for just an instant. That split second told her the meaning of the warning about looking into the eyes of one of his kind, but then she remembered that she'd also seen him there looking back -- and it was him - not some crazed beast. She still felt the same about him. Her feelings only grew stronger as she thought of what he'd just done to protect her. When he returned for the other bodies, she could see that he was shaking slightly. Whether it was from fatigue, or the adrenaline, she couldn't tell, but after another second she had a thought that it might be that he'd been injured himself and it could then be from pain. This was something that she wasn't prepared to accept and so she called to him after he'd left her view for a few seconds. His head appeared over the slight rise after a moment to peer at her. She called to him again and beckoned, but he looked as though he was about to turn away and walk off. She called once more, but there was no response until at last, - in desperation now - Amy balled her fists at her sides and howled out the name which his father had given him. It echoed around the little place and then died away. He froze and turned toward her in shock and wonder, his yellow eyes wide. Amy was surprised as well. Up until the sound of it was on her lips she didn't think that she knew it with certainty. She exhaled heavily. She wanted more than anything to sound soothing to him now. "Arn? Come here. I'm afraid right now that you've been hurt. I want to make sure that you're alright." He looked as though he was considering it, but she thought there was still a better than even chance that she wouldn't be able to turn aside whatever made him want to keep his distance right then. Whether he didn't trust himself to be near her or whether it would be some sort of undesirable admission on his part for her to see his injuries, she didn't know. But she needed to touch him and be certain that he was well, or at least not too badly hurt. "Come here, Arn... please?" Amy hated the little whine that she'd unintentionally added, but it was the way that she felt and it had cost her some of her control to hold back her worried tears. He looked down for a moment and drew a breath, but then he began to walk to her. His voice was still rasping, but quieter now as he grumbled about the blood all around as he approached. Amy thought he sounded like a larger version of one of her pupils at the school. "What about the blood?" she asked him. He shook his huge head, "It should not be here. All of the animals come here for water. Many will not come to this place now out of fear." "Then we can try to wash it in a minute, Arn. Please let me look at you. I can see blood on you everywhere, but I can't tell if any of it is yours." He stepped into the pool and looked at her after washing his face in the water quickly, "I will heal, Sheena." She watched a bloody strip of saliva drool down into the now-red water around them. He leaned down to fill his mouth with water and spat out what blood and fur remained from the fight with obvious distaste. His voice had quieted and lost its raspiness, "This is what you wanted to see, I think. Are you pleased now that you have seen me as I really am?" Chuckling once bitterly, he added, "Have a good look for as long as you think that you can bear it." He exhaled the last of his tension and his face showed his sadness as he said, "You can believe whatever you choose to, but I will not hurt you. I will understand it if you leave now. I know how I look." She could see that his own words hurt him now. "This is what I am." The sorrow in his words took Amy completely by surprise and she stared at him. Stormfeather misinterpreted her look and began to turn away to leave. He thought to return to the cave where he'd spent the weeks before their meeting. He didn't feel much like watching as she left to ride away. Her hand on his shoulder stopped him. She had to stretch to reach it, but found enough purchase there to pull him so that he had to turn a little. Her voice sounded shaky and small to his ears. "Arn? Are you angry with me?" He shook his head as he turned around, "No, I did not want you to see me like this yet. I don't know when I would have felt that you could stand to look at me, but I had no choice in it just now." Amy was stunned and shaken to hear his voice as he strained to hold back a sob. "I am sad to lose a friend. I am sorry for the way that I look, I ..." He looked down in surprise at her there hanging onto him. She was holding on to him with everything she had, as tightly as she could and the pressure caused him some pain due to his injuries. There was a moment of silence as he stood in confusion, and during that moment, Amy thrilled to listen to the quiet might that lay hidden there within him. He didn't notice a thing, other than the pure emotion that her embrace brought to him, but she heard a heartbeat like the deep, well-spaced strokes and rebounds of a hammer at a forge and a fraction of a second after each one, she heard the hiss of his blood through the arteries in his chest. His breaths were calm and steady, but in the quiet this close to him with her ear against his deep chest, each one sounded like a steam locomotive's driving pistons. She looked up, "Don't ever be sorry for how you look. I love the way that you look like this, or as a man. Don't feel badly about what you are. You haven't lost your friend, Arn. I'm very thankful for what you did for me and I'm happy to see you like this." His eyes widened again, and she nodded, "Very happy. You're beautiful." He doubted his ears. Beautiful? He thought that he must have misunderstood, but she was smiling up at him, this lovely red-haired dream-walker who just accepted him, no matter what happened. With her warm smile before him, he now felt relief flooding through him and wondered why he had doubted her. He told himself that she had proven herself to be better than even he had estimated and resolved not to doubt her word again. She seemed to believe in him, or in some quality about him. She deserved no less from him, he decided. She nodded as she let go of him, but as she stepped back to reach up to him, she felt the sticky wetness of the blood on her skin and looked down at herself. She had the presence of mind not to show the way that she felt. There was quite a lot of blood on her now and she was worried for him. She shook her head and said what was in her heart, "No matter which way you are, you're so beautiful to me. But as much as I love to look at you like this, please change back so that this lovely fur is gone. I need to see for myself where you're hurt." It took a few seconds and he began to blush as she smiled for a moment, "Don't even begin to feel ashamed because I can see all of you now." He stared at her for what she'd said and her warm smile felt like sunshine to his heart. She scooped up a double-handfuls of water to begin to wash the remnants of blood from his throat and front Amy came to a realization in that instant. With him like this, she knew that she'd have to guide him toward where her dreams had told her that they needed to be, at least to some extent. She wanted to minimize his discomfort and selected a slightly playful demeanor to set the tone for her examination. "You're embarrassed, aren't you?" she asked with an understanding smile, "I've been up to my neck in this water and I can't feel much of my legs. How would you like to be slapped by a frozen-cold naked woman right now?" She walked around behind him as he chuckled quietly. She was right and he knew it. He was being asinine and she was calling him on it. Her good humor evaporated as she surveyed the wounds on him. There were flaps of skin torn and loose, great rips in him, and teeth marks everywhere. She scooped more water and began to gently wash the spots. The first one to close after she'd washed it surprised her, but then she put her arm around him and pulled herself near to kiss the place as the line of it disappeared. She'd done this in several places before he was even aware of what she was doing. As Amy worked her way around to the front of him in her search, she began to feel a little foolish but then discarded the notion. She had nothing to feel foolish about. It was what she felt like doing at the moment, and it made her feel better. She only hoped that it helped him as well. "Why, Sheena?" he stopped her to ask it. He noted her earnest expression and the small tears there in her eyes which she was trying to blink away, "Because I care. You're hurt and I have no magic stick to wave at you to make you better in the blink of an eye. All that I can do is try to wash the dirt and goo out of them and kiss them as they close because I want to. I see that you close the wounds yourself. I know it's not much, but it makes me feel better to do it." She gasped at two deep wounds and gave a small cry of concern. Her fingers went to the edges of one tear on his side. She could see his exposed ribs between the torn muscle groups, "Can you close this one too?" He nodded stiffly and her hand was on his cheek, "It hurts, doesn't it? All of this, it hurts you every time that you're injured, you feel it all just the same." She exhaled as the rest of it came to her, "Wounds that should kill you only heal. You don't die, but you feel all of the pain from the healing as well. It must hurt even more because you heal yourself so quickly." She wanted to cry for him and how this must feel to him. He nodded again and she shook her head in wonder as she returned to keep washing the slowly-closing tear. She asked him to lift his heavy arm and ducked underneath to get at the place better, "Why didn't you just burn those things up or something? I don't understand it." He grunted as she touched a very sore spot and she apologized. "Because they were animals, Sheena, and they were already too close to you. If a man tried to hurt me and I have the need of it, I would burn him, but not an animal. Not unless it has to be." He flinched from one of her kisses, and she knew it wasn't from pain, "I'm sorry, I forgot that you're a bit ticklish. This one is looking better already." There was one more and Amy was a bit hesitant about it, but decided that she had no intention of letting him retreat into any bashfulness that he felt. Her reasoning was that if he couldn't feel comfortable here alone with her while they were both naked, then he needed to get past that. She thought about how he normally ran around and almost laughed out loud at the notion. How much of a difference could a breechcloth possibly make to him? She pushed him backward gently to get him on a slightly higher footing and squatted down to rinse the deep gashes on his inner thigh for a few minutes without a word. "Move your leg out a little," she instructed,"I can't get at the whole thing like this." "Sheena," he began in an uncomfortable tone. He'd been able to stand the feel of her body against him up to this point. He'd enjoyed her touch so much, but there was little that he could do to prevent some of his body's reactions to her touch. "Ssh," Amy wasn't going to put up with any nonsense and her face told the story when he looked down at her. "You just shush and be happy that you didn't get bit in a couple of other places that I can think of," she grinned as she finished her washing and leaned in to kiss the place softly. Amy was a little confused when he groaned quietly a second later. She looked up and then saw the problem when she looked back down. With a smirk to herself, she put her forearm in the way of that part of him which now began to strain to make its presence known as she felt the seam of the closing wound. Stormfeather Ch. 06 "You listen to me, Arn," she said looking up, "I haven't been doing all of this because I want to torture you and make you feel uncomfortable. I've been doing this because of the way that I feel about you. I care so much about you. From what I know, I'm the only one who's cared about you in a good long while. I think you'd better just get used to it. So if you're now going to feel even more ashamed because of this, I might just have to bite you myself to wake you up, and hellfire, you sure won't like it, my friend. You might have gone alone all this time getting hurt and healing yourself, but now you've got me, and I'm going to fuss over you whether you like it or not. You decide for yourself which is worse." Her gaze was steady and he knew that she meant every word, but then she seemed to be speaking at least partly to herself, "I can't believe it. You run around almost naked doing things that nobody can do. You save my skinny backside as fast as I can get it into trouble, and then what? You ought to be proud of what you are and what you can do, but are you? Oh hell, no! You're ashamed of what you are and get bashful in front of the girl who's in your corner just because she can see all of you. Jesus Murphy, what are you so afraid of?" She looked at him with a laugh, "I sure won't bite -- well maybe, but you'd have to ask me first." She found herself feeling a mixture of relief, joy, affection and concern as her eyes flashed at him, "And this," she said with a tiny bit of pressure from her arm against his penis, "this isn't anything to feel badly about. If you've got any blood left to run your brain with, try to understand what it means instead of feeling foolish. It sure wouldn't be like this if either of us were dead or torn to pieces, would it? It means that we're both alive enough for this to happen. It's natural, and I sure don't mind it. Hell, I'm even flattered." He said nothing as he stood there in shock from her words, but there was an increase in pressure against the underside of her arm. Amy kissed the wound once more and was about to stand up when she turned and moved her arm away slowly. When his manhood rose toward her, she quickly took it in her hand and kissed it softly as well because she felt an impish desire to make him gasp. As he did, Amy stood up smiling at him. "Why did you do that?" he asked. She came close to a giggle, but said, "Because it looked like it wanted one too. Because I want to make you feel at ease here with me while I babble like a fool because I'm so happy that you're alright, and because I thought that maybe I ought to try to make friends with it." The way that he regarded her made her abandon the effort at sounding serious and she giggled as he began to laugh. The sound of it flooded her with relief. Finally, she'd made him laugh. "It is an unusual way to make friends," he chuckled. "Well," she said, "yesterday, you couldn't believe that I'm not afraid of you. I'm still not afraid, but I think I've found something that makes me just a tiny bit nervous." She opened her eyes wide in an obvious exaggeration of fear, and laughed at herself. She pulled him forward again to get him at the same level that she stood at and put her arms around his neck to hug him tightly. She pulled back to kiss him. After a few seconds, she opened her mouth slightly and licked his lips very softly for a few moments before she put her head on his shoulder and sighed that it felt so good finally hold him. "No," she whispered very softly into his ear, "I'm not afraid of you -- even like that. I know that you're wilder like that, but I've seen into your eyes now. That wasn't a cruel thing there looking back, it was still you, only different. And thank you for saving my life again. You put yourself in the way of a lot of pain for me." "I do not want you hurt. The leader was too stupid to give up and leave," he said, "You were brave again to shoot that one with your pistol. I was surprised." "What kind of wolf were they?" Amy asked, "Those things were monsters!" "I have never seen them before, but the old one near the cave told me of them. They were Dire Wolves," Stormfeather said, "They were here long ago, but they lived on bigger prey than what wolves can find now to feed themselves. When their food disappeared, they died away and the grays and reds were left, since they can find enough to feed themselves here, being smaller. But the old one said they still live in the worlds beyond the cave. I saw the tracks coming out when I was there, but I lost the trail and then came here. I do not know why they came here." He glanced down at Amy's eyes for a moment, "How do you know that old name?" he asked quietly. "The very first night that I dreamt of you," she said, "I saw you as a boy. You were so adorable. If I ever have a son, I'd want one like you were then. You were huge blue eyes peeking out of a pitch black mop. My heart melted just from your smile. Your father was built a lot like you are now, but he was blonde and had a beard. I saw him teach you to fight with wooden swords, staves, axes, everything, right down to teeth and nails. I could see him struggling when you were slow to learn and he saw no reason for it. It hurt him when he hurt you, but he was careful never to let you see. I also saw how proud he was when you were able to beat him at archery. That was the first time that I heard him say your name so that I heard it clearly. He said, 'Arn, you can now hit your foe in the eye. Make sure now that you put enough into it to drive your arrow out the back, so that his friends may learn fear-" "-and you might live to fight again." He repeated as she saw his warm smile. He pulled her to him and kissed her neck, "I think I forgot my own name, I have not heard it in so long. Thank you for making me remember him." Amy reached down to run her fingers over the place in his ribs where he'd been hurt and he flinched again. "I may want to take advantage of your ticklishness sometime soon," she said, kissing his throat. She pulled away a little as she reached behind him to feel for the others, "You're healing well." He grinned at what she did then, "I do not remember that I was bitten back there." "Huh?" she said, "Oh, you weren't. I just wanted to touch that for a minute. You have such a nice bottom." She put her arm back on his neck and leaned against him. "Did you dream of me last night?" "Mm-hmm" she purred just below his jaw. "What adventure did you see, then?" he asked with an involuntary shiver from her soft breath in his ear. "Well," she sighed, "it's partly why I'm doing all of this healing this way with kisses for you out of more than my thanks that you saved my hide again. Last night was the first time that I tried to learn something about you in one exact way as I went to sleep. I hoped the answer would come to me as I slept. I guess it's important because that's what happened. I learned that I can ask to see what I need to see, though I still don't understand how or why I can do this." "I'm hoping that you might understand something that I don't really understand myself," she said. "Most likely you won't understand this, but ... I feel in a strange way that what I see in my dreams isn't only what has happened or what might or will happen, Arn." She'd been looking at his throat and tattoos, and her eyes had often been drawn to the pale scars as she'd searched for a way to explain herself to him. Finally, she just looked up and kissed him for a moment. "I sure can't explain it, but I have a really strong feeling that all of this is something that we must do - as though we HAVE to be here - where we are now, the two of us. I don't know why. All that I know is how I feel, and I'm sure I'd feel this way about you regardless, but I just know somehow that you and I are supposed to be together." She rolled her eyes a little, "I just wish that I knew why and whose rules we have to play by, because it goes against about every one that I was raised by." She nuzzled under his jaw for a few seconds because it felt both exciting and comforting to her. "So here goes," she said softly as he caressed her back, "This is the part where I step away from the schoolteacher and just lay out the cards about what I dreamed if you still want to hear it." "I want to hear anything that you say, Sheena. More so if it is something which gives you trouble, and even more if you have something about what is happening here. I know nothing about all of this and I must trust your dream-sight." He struggled for a second, "The way that I feel here with you, I think that it is also your heart which speaks a little and I could listen to this forever." He felt her soft smile against him as she continued, "I know that you find it strange to hear that you're the only one who appears to like me the way that you seem to. I found that more than anything last night, I wanted to learn how to please you because it looks to me as though it's where the two of us are headed and you're very important to me." Her hand drifted down the front of him, loving the second shiver that she'd caused. She moved herself back a little to give her hand the space to gently hold his manhood, "So I want to be sure that I get it right. I'm sure that you can imagine what I asked about. I know a little about pleasing a man, but for somebody like you? I wasn't willing to risk my own fumbling attempts. I don't get many chances to love someone." A sudden doubt flashed through her mind at her admission, but before she could act on it and begin to retreat, one of his hands found her long mane against her spine and the other softly cupped part of her bottom. She found herself sighing in relief that she hadn't been wrong. She heard him say "Never," and looked into his eyes. She felt as though she was standing in a bright blue shower of light as she looked into those orbs, "What did you say?" she asked. He looked only very slightly embarrassed, "I have never met one like you," he said, "I know that I have said this before, but it is true. I cannot imagine why you do not feel yourself to be beautiful. I think that perhaps it is the cost to you for your ability to dream-walk while you sleep and see things in me when you are awake. But you are so lovely. Last night, you told me of your thoughts that maybe you belong with me." Amy began to look away, but he caught her chin with his fingers and kept her gaze on his eyes, "Look here," he said, "You have nothing to feel shamed for. It was how you felt. Is this unchanged today?" She tried to nod her head, but found herself drifting in his gaze, "Nothing's changed but today I feel it even more." He nodded seriously, but kept his eyes locked on hers, "And you have just now said to me in a winding and cautious way that you feel love for me. I heard you say it. I know that you would not lie to me directly, Sheena, but I have also learned from you that your kind makes sport with your words sometimes. I need to know now that you were earnest with your words. I have not watched you in my dreams. I knew of you only very lately. From what I see between us here, you know something already and feel love for me." He looked away for a moment and then she felt his eyes boring into hers again. "You cannot know how much this all confounds me, that is why I need to hear this clearly." The young woman caught there in the blaze of his eyes wanted to quail at first, and then the Irish in her wanted some distance as she searched frantically for a quip or joke to ease or disrupt what she felt coming from him. "Please stop trying to hide," he warned her, "before I begin to believe that you are not truthful with me. I have lived with my heart torn out for many lives of men and when that ache began to wear away at last, I had even longer to regret my unending time of loneliness. My youth was spent while I was shunned; the only loves which were truly mine were taken from me. I care more for you than you can know, Sheena, but this is something that I have no wish to hear joking over. If you say now that you love me, then say it so that I can understand it plainly." His breath came out hot against her as he let it out the tension he felt in making this admission to her, "If it is not what you mean to say, then tell me that as well so that you can go back to your thoughts while I go back to my mine. It is all that I ask." This time Amy did shake her head. She'd never cared to have a line drawn before her like this, and for anyone else, she'd have laughed in his face and never crossed that line. But after a second she knew that he wasn't drawing a line, he was only asking for her sincerity in the only way that he knew. She found that she had plenty of that. Coming from him, it wasn't an ultimatum; she knew that he wasn't that kind of man. His phrasing sometimes wasn't smooth. She already knew that he wouldn't leave her, but he might feel that she didn't like him enough to go where her dreams now told her that they must go. They were too close now to risk any misunderstanding of each other, and if he needed her to say it clearly... Amy made the conscious decision that he was asking of her. She looked for the center of his blue gaze and moved herself slightly to be in it as she reached for his cheek, "Then listen carefully." "I'm in love with you, Arn. I've wanted to be in love with you before I even met you because of what I saw. I'm hoping that I was seeing clearly as I dream-walked as you say it, so I'm willing to take the step to see how much we can make of it if you are." He kissed her and her knees felt as though they were buckling at the feeling which came to her from inside him. She tried to hold on to him, but had to move her hand under his hair to hold herself up with her hand on his neck to do it. He pulled back and she felt his warm breath against her ear, so soft now as he kissed the side of her throat, "I love you, Sheena," he said, "As much as I am surprised that I even can, I feel love for you." She heard his tiny groan and realized that she was clutching something else of his tightly and released it to press her belly forward against it between them. "Sorry," she said as she felt herself loving the warm feel of it between their bodies. "I have something to ask as well," she said after a moment, "I've been standing here naked for all of this time, and I know that you like me like this. I'm very happy to know that I'm beautiful to you. What I want from you is the same thing - that you stop feeling unsure of yourself -- about your body when we're together. It's not right, Arn. I think I understand that it comes from what you are and how some people see you, but you need to forget about it all when we're together. You have nothing to feel ashamed about. I'm very proud of how you look -- in both ways. If you can get over that, then I'd say that you can consider that you have a woman in your life again. Wherever we end up, I want us to be there together." His warning came to her ears very quietly. It was something that he felt had to be said, in spite of how they both felt. "Sheena," he said, "there is something that you must know. I -- I am, ... when I am not like a man, I am, ...." He felt her nod against him, "You're wilder. I know that." She let go of him and took his hand as she searched for the rise on the bottom with her toes. Finding it, she stepped up, turned carefully, and pulled him close again. "Yes, but, ..." He found that though he believed in her acceptance, there was something else. "When I am like that, and if you are near to me, ..." He sighed and gave up trying to search for a nice way to say what he felt needed to be said. "I will want to -- " "Shh," Amy leaned in close to him. Her words were quiet, but he heard her whisper clearly. "I know that. I'm already dancing as fast as I can on those stones that you were talking about last night and I'm more than prepared to fall in. I understand you, Arn. I saw how you looked at me after you killed the big wolf so I know what's inside you then. I know who I'm in love with, so trust me, I know what you'll want to do. You can't help it. I haven't said that you couldn't do it, have I?" She heard his breath catch in his throat and looked up into his eyes, "I want you -- no matter which way you are. You don't need to feel ashamed at your nature. People use nice words for it, but it's still the same thing, it's just our need to mate. You don't know how much I've ached to have you and I'm aware that you think of yourself as a beast when you're like that." She kissed him very softly and leaned up a little to kiss his ear. A moment later, he shivered as he felt her tongue lick along his ear. "I guess what I'm trying to say is that I recognize what it is. I want you as a man. Maybe I'm not like most girls -- I sure don't know -- but I also want to be mated by the beast. I know that it's going to be hard for you to do, but I'm only asking that you try to remember that I'm just a human woman and I'm a lot smaller than you are. I'm certain that what you wanted to tell me will happen too, and I'm still not afraid. I'm going to want this from you sometimes." He found her face before him again and she coaxed a soft kiss from him. "We're still one female and one male, underneath everything. So just get it into your head and let's just accept each other." He looked into the warm green glow and his heart felt like it would burst. "I never thought I could ever hear words like this." She nodded against him slowly as she looked up. Her whispers grew even quieter and almost blended into the soft sounds of the stream which emptied into the pool, but he heard them. "If you hadn't been all torn up and covered in blood, we could have begun right then. It was what I really wanted until I saw how hurt you were, even though I'm frozen stiff. It's important to me that you get over feeling badly about yourself. I think you're wonderful, and in the simplest words, I want you as my male, can you understand that? Is that clear enough for you now?" She smiled, and when he returned it, she slid her fingers into his hair, kissed his throat and pulled herself close to his ear again. "We need to get out of this water before we shrivel into nothing and I'm hungry, so I know that you could probably eat a steer right now while it's still walking, so let's do something about that first. But before we do, while I have you in my arms right here, I'm going to make you a promise. We have to stop dancing around what we both need so,..." She hesitated as she drew a soft breath, knowing that she stood on a precipice and that there was no way back. She was astounded that she now felt so sure that whatever came after this moment, it was the right thing to do for them both. She already knew that they needed each other, so she stepped off the edge of the abyss and finished her thought. "I promise that you can have me before the moon rises tonight. It's what I want for us and I don't want to wait anymore beyond that because I think that we both need this. As a man, as your beautiful furry self, one way after the other, I won't care. Just, ..." She sighed, "Just try to remember not to break your new toy when it happens, that's all that I ask. I really do love you, Arn. You can't imagine how much I want you. I'd just like to survive it if I could." She was already against him, but now she tried to pull herself up higher. He sensed it and easily lifted her so that their breastbones lined up. What she felt emanating from him then as she tried frantically to express her own feelings overwhelmed them both for long minutes. --------------- As a note relating to evolutionary biology, Red Wolves live in captivity mostly, though they've been reintroduced into North Carolina and that population is fragile but recovering. Dire Wolves don't live at all anymore. They died out over 8,000 years ago. Both were common in what is now New Mexico during their time. Stormfeather Ch. 07 The red wolf had been watching, waiting and looking for a chance to leave upstream, but she didn't quite see the opportunity, not a long enough one at the poor speed that she'd be able to make. Lying on cold stone as she'd been the past two hours, and with her hurts, she doubted if she could just jump up and flee. She'd been afraid of the large one before. She didn't mind seeing the gray ones killed, but she didn't think she'd even get far if she tried to run, the way that one could move. There had been one time that his eyes were closed for a long enough time, but she wasn't sure about it or brave enough to try. If he opened his eyes he'd see her motion and there were his ears and nose to consider as well. She didn't see the fur-covered one who she was in terror of, but she knew it had something to do with the one there – her nose said so. The thought reminded her that the fish lay there unprotected and she was hungry. There was something else as well. She didn't understand what they were doing, but it looked to her as though they were a pack. It was something that she no longer belonged to, and now wished for. Someone like her needed a pack to feel at home, and she was still young to be on her own. If she healed, she might live alone for a time, but there were always situations which required more than one of her, and that she didn't have. Her only hope of joining a pack lay in her being discovered by others soon, and then just maybe if the lead female would tolerate her. Even so, she'd have to weather many non-fatal attacks while they judged her trustworthiness. It was the way of all wolves. Right now, she was in no shape for it. If another pack found her too near the 2 year mark, they'd just kill her. Unless she now found a solitary male for herself, she was likely doomed and she knew it. She needed to find red wolves and there were none left nearby, the large gray ones had seen to that. Now she'd have to run from coyotes or be torn apart. She noticed that they were still together for a time now. She didn't think that they slept upright, she'd been near the campfires of men before and they always slept lying down. But his eyes were still closed. She might have a chance. She tried to stand and force her way past the pain and stiffness, but knew she'd barely be able to walk. It was hopeless. She thought of her dead parents and siblings and felt her sorrow begin to well up. She felt so lost. ------------------------------- He hadn't kissed a woman in so long, and admitted to himself that he hadn't kissed a woman this way since before he'd been bitten. He loved the way that she sighed, the soft texture of her lips and the taste ... the way that her tongue chased after his- He froze and opened his eyes. Amy sensed it, "What is it?" she whispered. He looked at her, "I know they are all dead. I hear someone hurting. No, a wolf or a dog is crying quietly," he whispered back. "Stand still." He moved his head slightly to get the direction. It was a little difficult in the arroyo, where sounds naturally bounced from wall to wall. He looked back at her, "This one is not large, and not old. It comes from the side behind you. I will go to around. You wait for me and then move ahead slowly. Take your gun, Sheena. We do not know enough yet." She nodded and turned slowly after he'd climbed out and begun to move. He was silent enough with the brook covering the sounds of the water drops falling from him, Amy bent to reach for her Colt. A quick look showed her that a live chamber would be the next one if she cocked the hammer. She didn't want to do that yet, not without an immediate threat and with Stormfeather in the opposite direction and about to come around the pool. The wolf caught herself after a minute. What had she been doing, crying like that? She hoped they hadn't heard her, but her heart jumped when she opened her eyes to look. They'd moved. She couldn't hear or see them from where she was hidden. She began to raise herself again, ignoring the pain as much as she could. This might work out – She sank back down immediately. The smaller one was coming into her field of view. She didn't know what to do, and so she did nothing. The face came only a little closer. She watched the eyes as they looked everywhere, the whole time never moving far off where she was. How could she not see? But then the eyes looked right at her own and there could be no doubt anymore. The wolf began to growl – a last desperate move to try to intimidate. From what she'd seen of this one, the thing in her paw killed larger wolves easily. Amy gasped in her surprise. Recovering quickly, she poured as much honey into her voice as she could. She knew it sounded incongruous and silly, but she was trying to pass information without frightening an obviously terrified animal any further. "There you are," she cooed softly, "Are you hurt? She's over here Arn, a small red wolf. At least I think it's a she. You poor thing. She's scared to death here. I don't know if she's been hurt or not. She's trying to growl." She sighed after a second, "Oh, she is hurt. I can see that her eye is mostly swollen shut. It's alright, honey. We won't hurt you. I just wish that you could understand me." Amy flicked her eyes to where he was, just out of sight on the other side, and then looked at the wolf again. He stepped back to the trout, and picked one. With his knife, he had it in rough fillets in seconds. A few more cuts and he had a handful of pieces. He crept back. They were careful to only frame the opening that she had so that if she felt desperate enough, she could try to run past them. But she only pulled her lips back and snarled helplessly at them both. Amy tried to place a piece of fish close enough to be reached, but left it behind when the wolf snapped at her fingers. "I will do it," he said. "She'll bite you," Amy warned. "I know," he sighed, "but I will make sure that she gets a piece without using up any more of her courage. You were right, she is frightened to death. She must have been here the whole time. She saw what I did then." "But you look different now." He just barely shook his head slowly, "I smell the same." He took a second piece and slowly brought it to her as Amy kept up the singsong cooing, praising her with as much admiration as she could put into it. He moved his hand inward and stopped for a minute. The lips curled back again as she snarled. He waited, and moved less than an inch to freeze again for a while. This went on for long minutes with no change. The wolf kept up the warning. He was watching for the wrinkled snout to wrinkle just a bit more. He knew it would be the final precursor to her bite. But it didn't happen. The piece of trout bumped gently into the tip of her nose, and still she snarled. He let it drop the half an inch to the stone. "She will bite as I take my hand away," he said softly, "Watch the skin on her nose. Her bite begins as it wrinkles more." Sure enough, his hand was almost four inches away when the snout rippled for the briefest instant and then she lunged. She was alarmed and let go instantly instead of hanging on. Amy looked at his hand as he brought it out. She'd have thought the marks would be deeper. "She is tired and I surprised her by leaving no fingers for her, only my fist to bite on." He smiled as he picked up another piece, "I am thankful that she is no Gray Wolf. Their jaws can break most bones if they chew on them. I have no wish to test them on mine." "How much will you give her?" He shrugged, "All of it, a piece at a time. If she had a way out she would be gone already, but she expected to be attacked there, I think. Maybe the other ones were hunting her. She can bite if she wants or if it makes her feel better. I will make no threat, only give her all of it, and then we pull back to give her room to leave. I hope she will eat. Right now, she suspects a trap, but it cannot be helped." He repeated this process, delivering every chunk, but without bumping her nose again. All told, she now had six pieces of fish before her. He'd been bitten four times. But just as they prepared to pull back, she began to eat a piece very cautiously. Amy praised her as sweetly as she could, and then they left her alone. She watched what she could as she ate. They were moving slowly in and out of her view, but she saw no stealth there. The rest of the fish were moved, and as much blood was washed off the stones as they could manage before they walked off and there was silence but for the stream's quiet sounds. She felt better for the meal and was curious now. Creeping painfully out of her alcove, she sniffed and listened, not quite believing that they were gone. A minute later, she'd stiffly followed their scents around some rocks and stood looking down at them as they sat on some stones talking quietly. If she could have understood them, she likely would have found it humorous – and she'd make sure that he was wrong. Amy shook her head, "I'm telling you, she won't come." "She will," he said, "She only needs time for her hunger to fade and to find a little more courage. If she knows that the large wolves are dead, she will find us. She has to know more. She cannot understand why we would give her fish and not try to pull her out, she has to at least see us for a few minutes." "I hope you're right," she said, "my stomach has already claimed two fish, but what's the use if they go bad waiting for her to show up?" "Only a little longer," he said, "that is all that I ask to prove it. And if she does not begin to follow us, you can have all of the fish." Amy laughed, "Now you're talking. What makes you so sure that she'll come anyway?" "Because," he looked at her, "from her crying, I feel that maybe she lost her pack or they are dead. She is too young to be alone, though she may live like that, I cannot know." He chuckled softly, "My nose is the same as hers, and she is already out of the arroyo. Look very slowly. She is there. I do not need to look." Amy slowly turned her head while looking out of the corner of her eye. "Hellfire," she said softly, "she is at that. I think that she must be the one in my sketch of that dream. I'm sure of it. What do we do now?" He shrugged, "How much do you want a companion? She may stay near, though I think she is a little old to make a pet for you. You can turn and stamp your foot and she will be gone, or you can sing your interesting little songs to her again, and she might follow." Amy was surprised, "Really? Do you think she likes my voice when I sing like that?" He flashed her that warm smile, "I do not know, Sheena. I only know that I like it very much." She shook her head, "She's the only thing keeping me from hitting you now. You know that, right?" He nodded with a sigh, "Stand up slowly and begin your singing talk for her. We will walk away a little after that. She will follow." Amy stood up and looked up the rise slowly, as though she were more interested in the weather. The wolf tensed, but relaxed as she began, "There you are, you pretty girl. You look like you're winking at me with that swollen eye. You poor thing, you're much too pretty to have that eye looking like that. Did you like the fish? We have some more, you know. Come on and see." She turned and found him standing with a soft smile and an expectant look. "What now?" He shrugged, "Now we walk slowly. She is hurt somehow. She will decide the distance to follow if she does, and you must sing some more." They set off slowly, ambling down the rise in the direction of the house with Amy chattering. "I do hope you decide to get more fish. You're all that's keeping my friend from being hurt as well right now, honey. He's forgotten that I have three shots left in my gun." Amy found his shocked reaction almost too much and stifled her laugh. "Really?" he asked. "No," she shook her head, "It's just more of my joking. I'll need to be more careful around you, that's all" she sang. Stormfeather had a small epiphany then. The way that she smiled just a little as she looked down while they walked made him feel as though his heart was being wrenched loose in his chest, but in a pleasurable way. She was likely unaware of it, he realized, but it didn't matter. His heart may have felt as though it had been missing all the centuries as he wandered, but by this he knew that missing or not, it was back now and it beat for her. Sheena had captured it. He'd have thrown it at her hopefully if he were human and in more human circumstances. But he also knew that his background would have caused him to remain aloof and shy. In her own way, she hadn't only accepted it, she'd taken it, he now knew. He couldn't say how he knew the other thought which came to him as well, but he was certain that she held the hearts of those she loved tightly. He knew that he now stood in a very small circle there in her heart and he felt humbled for the honor. He put his free arm around her and his heart wrenched again as it lifted when she'd smiled that smile and leaned her head against him for a few steps as though there was nothing different or unusual about them at all. This went on until they were more than halfway to the house. He stopped her, "Turn slowly and look where she is now." Amy almost didn't dare to look, but she just had to know. There was the wolf, not twenty feet behind them. When Amy began to speak to her again, the wolf tilted her head, listening hard. "I don't believe it," Amy sang softly, "How did you know?" "She is alone with no pack. I do not know what happened yet, but I know this." He glanced at her with a grin, "I also do not know if she likes your singing, but there must be something that keeps her following us." Amy finally caught sight of what he meant. The wolf was staring at the way that he dangled the trout with his fingers in their gills. Amy put it together. She shook her head at being taken, "I have decided that I'm going to hit my friend," she sang sweetly without cadence or verse, "I don't know the exact moment for it, but I know that he has to sleep sometime," she looked at the wolf – who sat with her head cocked and then followed as they arrived at the house. "He'll clean the fish," Amy sang, "and then he can feed you the scraps if you're interested. I'll cook the five that are left, honey, and you can have a cooked one all to yourself, since I like you better right now than I like him." "But I was the one who caught – " Stormfeather found that he was facing her wagging finger as she laughed a little, "I know that, Greedy Guts. I'll only want one. Miss Winky there can have one of mine. You can have three." She looked up at him and he saw her with the edges of her hair glowing in the morning sun. "I'm trying to figure out the care and feeding of a man," she said. "It's beginning to look expensive, quite frankly." He looked at her with some uncertainty, but found her laughing green eyes giving her away. Amy walked to the small place which passed for something of a cold storage in the old house. Her father had built the well-insulated cabinet in the storm cellar. It took her eyes a couple of minutes to see by the dim light from the steps behind her. She searched for and retrieved one of the blocks of bacon and took some of the eggs that she'd brought with her from Santa Fe which she'd carried in a well-padded corner of one of her saddlebags before going back to the kitchen. With all of that and the fish, she thought that she'd be able to manage quite a breakfast for them as she walked to search hopefully for a scallion or two from the overgrown garden. She was surprised to find at least one healthy tomato plant as well and turned around to find him changed and on his knees over the little wolf as he held her throat in his teeth and shook her a little on the ground. Amy was about to cry out in shock, but he pulled back and she could see the wolf's tail slapping the ground hopefully. "What in hell are you doing to her?" she asked. His answer was quiet, since he was being mindful of his appearance, "I have cleaned all of the fish, and she has had all of the scraps. She is trying to show that she is meek to me, and I show her now that I accept her and try now to play. For her to join a pack, she expects to be attacked many times but with no hard bites unless they try to kill her. I am hoping that if I do this once, she will feel our acceptance." He reached out his clawed hand slowly and the wolf tensed, as if expecting a blow. Amy was astounded by the soft, low sounds that came from him as he began to carefully stroke and pet the wolf. "Wouldn't it have been better to just do this while you look like a man to her? That must have come as a shock to her, you looking like that." "I thought that too at first," he said quietly over his shoulder, "but I think it is better if she sees me like this and runs if she has it in her mind like other animals. But I think now that it was her hunger that kept her near to me as I cleaned the fish. She caught every piece that I tossed to her, and then she just took the rest from my hand." "Well I wish that I had my sketch book handy." Amy remarked as she shook her head with a smile, "Nobody would believe the scene before my eyes right now." Amy worked up the breakfast as she watched them play together. The only thing which bothered her was the apparent roughness of it from her point of view, but then she guessed that he'd let the wolf decide about that. She stole upstairs for a minute and returned with a wooden ball which her father had made for her long ago. "Here," she said as she held it out to them from the porch, "I'd like it if maybe one day, I could reach out to pet her too with no fear of losing my hand. And you ought to go more easily on her. She had a hard enough time just walking behind us at first." Their eyes were locked on the ball instantly and she had to hold back her laughter as she waved it. She gave it a quick thought, and decided that she only had time to roll it once before the bacon needed to be turned. What amazed her was the strength of their focus as the two sets of eyes moved in unison whenever she waved the ball slightly. If he went for it now, she'd never let him hear the end of it. Amy let it roll toward them quickly. The wolf stared at it for a moment, and then ran a bit stiffly to it to stop and watch for a second before she lunged to take it. Amy stepped back to the stove, but laughed at the way the little wolf pranced very briefly before him, as though daring him to try to take it from her. Amy shook her head and went back to her cooking. A few minutes later, she heard a bark, and saw him standing as a man with the ball, and choosing the best moment to roll it for her. She wondered briefly how he'd gotten it from her, but thought it best not to know. -------------------- They sat on the porch steps as they ate, out of consideration for their hopeful new friend. True to her word, Amy had cooked one fish for her and cut it up, setting the pieces aside to cool, but within her sight as he'd recommended. The animal walked cautiously from one to the other, not daring to come too close, but not being able to tear herself away either. She danced back a bit when he stood to pour them each a cup of coffee, but was over her fear enough not to go very far. Amy picked up the bowl containing the chunks of fish and a few of the other scraps from her plate. She considered it for a moment, wishing that she had something a bit less human to offer the wolf, but finally shrugged to herself. If she stayed, Amy decided, she'd try to find more wolf-like things for her to eat, if she could. She just hoped that the animal would heal well. She felt herself being looked at, and turned to see him holding the cups and regarding her with a smile. Stormfeather Ch. 07 "I'm just hoping that Winky's eye gets better, that's all," Amy said. "Winky?" "I can't think of anything better for a name. She probably won't stay with us anyway. I just wish her the best." She held out the bowl and cooed to the animal to come closer. When it looked to her that the wolf was as close as she'd likely get, Amy took out a chunk of trout and offered it, worrying about her fingers a little bit. "She may nip your fingers lightly by mistake," he said, "if it happens, make a sound in warning to her and she will be more careful the next time. She will not wish to bite you." "You're doing it again," Amy said softly over her shoulder. "Sorry," he began. "Don't be," she said, "I just mind it a little bit and I'm getting used to it. I'd just like it if you could try not to do it too often. I do love you, I just don't always want to be reminded that I'm not as ... able as you are." "But Sheena," he replied, "I am not the one who can see in my dreams or ... draw pictures to keep the memory or shoot down men at impossible distances. I think that I am not as able as you, Sheena." She knew at once that he was being sincere as he saw things from his side and kicked herself a little for it. "Let's just leave it alone. Arn. Now I'm the one who's sorry. I don't want to go on about it all day, I just felt a little annoyed for a moment, and I regret saying anything now." She smiled at him, "I'll just try to get used to it if you try not to do it that often." He sat down beside her as the wolf screwed up her uncertainty and stepped closer to very carefully take the piece of fish. She looked as though she was about to dance away again to eat it, but suddenly decided to stand with them as she ate. Amy praised her quietly and finally felt the soft fur under her fingertips as she passed another piece with her other hand. She peered carefully at the eye and decided that it looked clear, if somewhat bruised. "I hope that she'll be alright on her own if she decides not to stay," Amy mused. "It is hard for me to tell," he said, "I know that she is young to be on her own and I feel her sadness. A wolf's pack is really family if there are no outsiders in it. For her to have lost them, it means that she has no parents or brothers and sisters now. She may decide that we might welcome her – if it is what we want, you and I." He reached out and gently rubbed over one ear and the animal's uninjured eye closed a bit in pleasure. Amy chuckled, "I think that I've lost my heart to a boy and his dog." "That is not the way that I see this," he said, "She is hopeful for my kindness, but she knows that she needs your acceptance for her to stay. I have lost my heart also to the one who amazes me without end." She winked at him, "I think that's what women are really for, not for housework and having babies, that's just wasting our talents, though it's often all that we're allowed to do. I'm really not like that," she warned him with a mild glare, "though my great aunt always tells me that I'm getting to be an old maid and that it's high time that I got serious with a man. I think we're really here to mystify and amaze men, though most are too stupid to appreciate it." She settled herself carefully to lean against him again, "I like you because you're not like any man I've ever known. You alone seem to have learned the importance of keeping a woman warm." She looked down at her moccasins again. "I notice these things." she nodded brightly, "You're the one that I need to get serious with." "Do not heap too much honor on my head," he said ruefully, "It took me hundreds of years of solitude to learn this secret. But if we are finished now with our laughter, this does not worry or frighten you, what you have dreamed between us? That you have drawn us like that if your dreams are what will come? Perhaps you ought to ask what lies ahead when you dream tonight." She shook her head, and pointed at him, "You said it yourself - calm acceptance." she said, "So please don't get too concerned just yet. For one thing, neither of us knows just when that dream that I drew is supposed to happen. For another, you of all people shouldn't be surprised that I can accept this idea if your mother could dream like me, even without drawing what she saw. The dream is the dream, it doesn't matter what I wanted to draw. I drew what I felt was there." She looked around, "It's starting to get cooler, you'd better put your arm around me." He loved her warm smile after he'd done it. It wasn't getting anywhere near cool yet and wouldn't for hours. He was just perceptive and Amy liked that about him. "I may not have to train you very much at all," she grinned as she leaned against him comfortably, "Anyway, if you think about it, I have these dreams and then I draw them. It takes time to do that, and the whole time that I'm drawing, I'm thinking and more importantly, I'm feeling as I remember things in the dreams. I am trying to express the feeling of the dream. It's how I came to know so much about the wandering warrior whose life was pulling at me. It's how I got to know what's inside of you." He looked a little uncomfortable. "I understand better, but how is it that you came to know that we are to be together? This is something that is strange to me, yet you are so sure." "You seemed to want to test me yesterday to see if I really wasn't afraid of you. I can't blame you for that because of your life, but my first tests came in other dreams of us before I'd even seen you look at me in my dream. Starting from the second night, I've sometimes had dreams that are not in the past, but are most certainly in the future if the telling of the dreams hold to how they've been so far." She looked to make sure that she'd caught his gaze and held it. "I saw myself with you – and not just traveling. I just didn't know about the braids, but I do now, obviously." She held her hand up with her thumb and forefinger held tightly together. "I saw us this close – for hours – and you can imagine what I saw us doing. How would you feel if you saw yourself like that, being intimate with someone you don't even know? What if it came to you that this wasn't a normal dream? What if you knew that what you were seeing was real somehow and that it would and even had to happen? It scared the hell out of me at first. Those were the ones that frightened me a little until I saw how much you loved me in the dreams, and then I started to fall in love with you." "Hell," she grinned softly in admission as she held up her hands in a helpless gesture, "I just couldn't help it." He sat listening to her intently and she nodded, "Oh, I wasn't prepared to just go along blindly with what I saw," Amy said. "But after meeting you and after all of yesterday, I learned that you are as you were in those dreams. So I guess I'm saying that after that, I've just accepted that I'm going to be yours." She shrugged as though she had no say in it. "Something makes me dream like that, and for all of your abilities, I know that it's not you. For whatever reason, I have an ability which any girl would kill to have – I was able to see the one for me ahead of time. You're the one that I'm supposed to love. That's where the acceptance comes from, Arn." She looked away and chuckled to herself, "And it's a damn good thing that you're the kind of man who I'd want to have a love with as much as I do. I really doubt that I'd want anyone else after getting to know you." She looked up and he seemed to be frozen in place, so she reached around to gently pull his face to hers and kissed him softly once. She pulled back to smile at him, "For almost three weeks since I realized it, I've been in love with someone whom I'd never met, and really didn't know if I ever would meet. It's worse than being lonesome, it's hopeless. So now that I've met you, it isn't such a surprise to me who you are, and what you are, is it? To me, they're really the same thing - you're the one I think that I'm supposed to love. I sure hope that you feel like I'm the one for you too though I'm no beauty. Because after all of this, if you can't love me, I'm pretty sure that there's no one who I would ever want." His voice came to her quietly. It was almost a whisper, but she heard it plainly. "Forgive me for my wondering, Sheena. I do love you. Even though you think there is little beauty there to love. For one who can see so far clearly, this is where your visions fail you, this close in. But do you know the price for what you want? Even if we begin to love, and it seems that we are already on that road, it cannot be for long, unless you want to be what I am. There is much pain to the beginning of it. It is possible that you may not come through it alive, or you may stay in the madness of it forever." He exhaled heavily at the unpleasant thought of it, "You must know what I would have to do then." Her gaze at his eyes didn't falter. Even when she blinked, he found her looking steadily at him and there was no fear that he could feel or see. "I thought so," she said quietly, "If it has to be, then it's what I have to do to be with you. And I'm sure that it has to be, since I've seen us being intimate and we were both wild. I saw myself just as furry as you, so I guess that means that I'll survive it. If you'll be there with me, I won't be afraid. When?" "Not yet, Sheena. We only know each other - I mean here, together, two days now. I would stay with you for all of it. We can do this in a few days. I know that your heart is determined and I know that you are the bravest woman I have ever known. You shine like the sun to my eyes. I am not ready yet, and you need to learn much first. Then you can ask for this." "Would you be mine then?" she asked, and he knew at once that the question was a sincere one from her, without any of her joking attached to it. Looking at her there in the sunshine with the breeze just moving her mane, his heart was taken again in her graceful hands, though she hadn't moved. He chuckled and put his arm around the small of her back to rest his hand on her hip, but she knew the truth when she heard it, "I am yours now," he said softly. "I think I was yours from the first vision. When you came to find me in the darkness, I was almost certain of it, but I did not know that you felt anything for me. Now I feel the power of your hold. You sit and smile at me as you talk, and you do not know how strongly you hold my heart to you like this. So we travel together then. There is no choice in it for me anymore." Her arms went around him and after kissing him, she laid her head on his shoulder, "That's good then," she sighed with the smile that he could feel against his skin, "After finally being with you, I could never be anything other than miserable as the wife of a wealthy rancher or a tubby banker." She raised her head a little and he saw her green eyes peering steadily at him over the horizon of his own shoulder and felt her kiss against it, "A girl could do a lot worse than loving someone like you. I might never be rich, but that's not important. I'll probably never have a fine home, but I won't care. I'll wander with you through wind and snow if it's where we have to go, as long as I have you, I'll be happy." "You have overlooked some things," he began in a mild and gentle tone of warning, "You have your life – there are people who care for you and love you. You are a teacher." "I know all of that," Amy replied. "I have some time to work that out. The way that I see it, no matter what happens now, or which way we go – everything in my life will have to change in some way. I don't mind that, and I even welcome it. My life hasn't always been sunshine and peaches, though right now if I were to allow it to continue the way it's headed, it could be very comfortable – and sleepy. I'm just not that kind of girl. Even hardship doesn't put me off much, it makes the good times better and at least you know that you're alive if you find yourself struggling to stay that way now and then. I wish there were more women who weren't content with staying in the background." From her vantage point with her cheek against his shoulder, she could see the smile from his cheek. "There are such women. When I was coming north before my friend the horse was born, I passed through a land in turmoil. Tribes who lived sometimes peacefully because of the space between them fight more now because their land is taken from them and they have nowhere to go. The Comanche and the Apache have always been enemies. I heard the tale of one young woman whose husband was killed by a Comanche chief when he surprised their raiding party as they looked for horses. He took her husband's scalp and she could not let it go out of her love for him. She saw the man and the black stallion with three white feet that he rode." "What happened?" Amy asked, intrigued now. "There were no men in her family who were young enough and strong enough warriors to strike back. As a new widow, she was kept with her mother. She waited until the woman slept, and then she stole away in the night, taking some dried meat and a water jug with her ceremonial dress and moccasins. She dared not try to take her mother-in-law's knife and her own had been taken from her. She ran until she found the camp of her enemy and found his horse among all of the others. The horse didn't snort when she led it half a mile away to tie it to a bush where it could eat the grass at that spot." He looked at Amy and she looked to be hanging on the front edge of the porch as she listened. "You must have loved to hear tales when you were little," he said to her, "I wish now that I could draw as you do." "Please go on." She was almost begging him to continue, and it made him chuckle as he pulled her closer. He felt as though he had no choice in it anymore and wouldn't dream of having her wait longer. "She went back to the fires and saw that many of the men were drunk, and the chief among them. She changed her clothes in the darkness beyond the light of the fires to put on her ceremonial dress and joined the dancers, coming at last to stand before the chief where she raised her arms to invite him to dance with her. She prayed that no one would recognize her as one of their enemies." "They are allowed to do this four times. The chief stood up on the fourth, and they danced around the circle until she led him away as though she wanted to take them to a secluded spot. She saw her husband's still-damp scalp hanging from the man's belt and the sight of it gave her courage. She led him away but then she ran from him, staying just ahead to keep him chasing her. He was angry with her now and when she let him catch her, she tried to grab his knife, but could not. So she bit his neck and hung on as he tried to beat her from him with his fists. She kept her arms high enough to prevent him being able to hit her as hard as she knew that he could as his blood ran down over them both. She managed to hold on until he grew weak and fell down. Then she found his knife and stabbed him in the chest. She scalped him and took his beads and breechcloth and ran to where she'd hidden his horse." "Her ride back took a couple of days, because she would fall asleep from her exhaustion and whenever she awoke, the horse had turned back. It was a terrifying time for her. She only stopped to allow the horse to graze and drink. She had no food or water for herself and it was harder for her to mount the horse every time. As she approached her own people, she was not recognized because her dress was covered with the man's dried blood and so was she. She lost consciousness as she tried to get past her own sentries." "What happened to her? Was she killed? This is true, and not just a legend or anything?" He shook his head. "She awoke in her family's tipi. She holds much high honor among them, having done what no man of their tribe could do. She took her own vengeance, avenged her tribe, and killed a very powerful chieftain of their enemies – and she killed him with nothing more than her teeth. The stabbing was only to make certain that he was dead. She brought back his scalp, belongings, and his own horse as proof. She raids with the men as a warrior now." Amy was astounded. "What is her name?" "I did not know her story when I met her, but –" Amy's mouth fell open. "You've met her?" He nodded, "She was with a raiding party when they overtook me. We did not understand each other for a time, but I made it clear that I wished only to pass through their lands in peace. She is very proud and I learned why only later that night from one of the men. She made a remark about thinking to keep me prisoner at first, but changed her mind," he shrugged. "I stayed the night, but was far away when they woke. I made sure the men who were to watch me slept well." Amy smiled knowingly, "What did you do?" He looked off innocently, "When she said that I was her prisoner, I waved my hand and her horse fell asleep. She landed a little hard and was angry with me but could do nothing and she knew it. Only she saw my hand. She did not know how I did it, but she knew that I was the cause. She could not kill me for no reason since I am not from an enemy tribe, and they were all a little nervous about me. I heard her tale after she went off to sleep. Her name is one that is not permitted to be spoken to outsiders. It was that way before her husband was killed. She is known as Gouyen now. In their tongue, it means 'chaste' or 'wise'. The same word fits both things. She is a great warrior among them, and I wish her well." "Where is she now?" Amy asked. He shrugged. "Still alive and well, I hope. She could be anywhere from northern Mexico to as little as fifty miles from here. I do not know. I have seen many Comanche here. There are less Apaches, but they are here somewhere." She found his breechcloth in her view and it took her thoughts in another direction for a moment. "Hey, where you come from, do the women always wear dresses? From what I saw, the answer seemed to be yes and no. I'm not big on dresses." "The season decides it," he replied, getting to his feet, "and the age of the wearer. If you and I go together, I think that you would find a dress to be a problem and your pants there would wear quickly. I will make clothes for you that will wear better and anyway," he smiled, "your dreams have shown the best things for you, I think. These things are not that close to what the women of many tribes wear. Almost all wear dresses of some form, though there are those who do not for the same reasons of practicality." He walked away and Amy was left to smile at Miss Winky as the animal got to its feet to approach a bit hopefully, but was still nervous. "You don't have to worry, sweetie. I've saved a little bit of my bacon and eggs for you. You can call it a bribe, I guess. I don't think you should get too used to my food, but I know you've had a hell of a day." Winky had no answer beyond what Amy could tell from her slowly wagging tail as she accepted the scrap of egg from her hand and then allowed herself to be scratched behind an ear. Amy found the old wooden ball and tried to play with Miss Winky for about an hour, always mindful of what might be the cause of the stiffness that she observed. Amy stopped the game entirely when the wolf winced once and yelped a little from her own sudden move. Stormfeather looked a mess when he returned and she was about to ask, but then settled for just a curious glance as he walked to the pump and began to wash. She tried not to stare at him for long, knowing that he'd give her an answer to the question in her mind if she did. Instead, she guessed that he'd gone to skin the dead wolves and stretch out their hides, but doubted if even he could do four in the time that he'd been gone. Stormfeather Ch. 07 Winky had gotten onto the porch and was sniffing around curiously, but when Amy noticed her stillness, she was a bit shocked to find her new companion sitting almost next to her and staring at him herself. "He's something, isn't he?" she asked quietly as they watched him. Winky had no answer other than to alternate her gaze from one to the other of them. Finally, she sank down next to Amy and stared at Steomfeather. "I know, honey," she grinned at the young wolf as she ruffled the fur behind an ear, "he does the same thing to me about every other minute." Amy remembered the bowl which had held the cut-up fish pieces. Amy had a single egg in the pocket of her shirt. "I still have one surprise for you, Winky. I've saved you a raw egg," she said as she broke the shell to empty the egg into the bowl and then placed it in front of the animal. Winky looked at the egg and then at Amy, but didn't think about it for very long before she began to lap it up. "There you go. I wanted you to have a raw one. It'll do your skin and fur a bit of good." He brought over a few folded deer hides and laid them out. Amy reached over and touched the supple leather. There was a scent to them that she couldn't place and the color was a bit on the golden side. She thought it curious, since she knew that deerskin tans almost white. "This is different," she remarked, "but it looks like deer to me". "It is deerskin," he said. "But deerskin gets stiff and ..." he stopped to search for the word, "brittle once it has gotten wet. You have to rub something into it to protect it for when it gets wet. Where I come from, we used bear grease for this. I did what they do here. I rubbed these with pollen and I heated them very gently to melt it in. It gives this color, but it makes the skin stay soft after it gets wet and then dries so that anything made from it will last longer. If you would stand up for me, I will see how big to make things around your waist." Amy stood up and he circled her waist with a thin strip of hide, and then marked the length that he needed with a piece of charcoal. He began to measure her long legs for length, but when he held up a piece of hide to mark it, she stopped him, "This is to measure for the leggings, right?" He nodded, and she asked, "Would it be better if they were fit closer or looser?" He shrugged, "First, they must be comfortable, so I must allow your knees room to bend, but if they are too loose, they will make a bit more noise when you walk quickly or run. I think you ask this because you want them close but not tight." She nodded, "I was thinking that if you measure me with these pants on, you might get them too loose. I'll take these off if it helps you." "Not just yet, he smiled, "I have enough to make other things for you first. Please sit and we can watch your winky friend as I work." "I can do better than that and make us more coffee if you'd like." He nodded with a smile and kept working. Before long he'd made her two breechcloths, one fairly long and one shorter. A next one was shorter still, but before she could ask, he told her it was more of an undergarment for cold weather and for when she menstruated. She admired his thoughtfulness as he spoke without discomfort. "I do not know what you use, but where I am from, the women use cleaned and dried moss for this. I allowed some space for whatever you think is best for what you need." "Thank you, Arn," she said, "I have to say that I'm surprised that you'd think of it." He smiled a little, but his voice remained practical, "You said that I now have a woman in my life. It has been a long time, but it means that I must think of these things." His smile turned to a gentle smirk, "I am trying to figure out the care and feeding of a woman, and –" "Very funny," Amy smirked back at him, but he only motioned back at her with the deerskin, "This was woman's work in my tribe, but I do not see it this way. I like making things for you, and it makes me feel good to take care of you where I can. For certain, any woman of the tribes anywhere here could do this better than I can and make you very beautiful clothes. My poor skill comes from making things for myself, but I hope that I can get better. Please try them." "My mother taught me to sew and I've made clothing before, but I want to learn to make things like this too," Amy said, "Anything you make for me is fine and I'd be happy to wear it." Amy took the garments inside and spread them on the bed. She thought for a minute about him and then smiled to herself. He looked up when she came back few minutes later to show him how one of them fit. Aside from her moccasins and her shirt, the shorter of the outer breechcloths was all that she wore. Amy couldn't help her laugh when she saw his expression. "You can measure me for the leggings now," she said sweetly. It turned into something of a trial for both of them as he knelt with her standing before him. He fought the urge to caress her legs, among other things, and Amy found herself thrilling from each light touch of his hands and then almost aching for the next. Her mind was brimming with pleasure that he was making these things for her and her heart brimmed with its own hope that this would take longer than it needed to. When he measured near where the tops of the leggings would end, she was torn between feeling slightly ticklish and a slight worry about the arousal that she was beginning to feel overtaking her. It was an almost exquisite little bit of torture to her. That he was doing this for her felt to her as though it was an important step to him that she become his woman – something that she now wanted to be more than anything, and so she wanted the leggings finished for that reason as well as the practicality of them. And yet she yearned for his touches to turn in the direction that would end in the act that the term signified. His hands slid up her thighs under the bottom edge of her shirt to lightly touch the sides of her flanks. Amy successfully fought off the sigh that she felt, but when he gently tightened his grasp, her slight gasp escaped her before she even knew it was there. "Please turn to face me," he said, sounding slightly hoarse. Amy liked the sound of that. It told her that he faced his own struggles here. He'd told her that he found her beautiful. She couldn't understand how he saw her that way, but she sure wasn't about to try to change his mind. She did as he asked, and as he slid the strip of leather that he was using to get the measurement higher, she shifted her weight to move her long and willowy legs a bit farther apart to give his hand room. Stormfeather found the bottom of her shirt in his way, but did his best to work around it. He had to. If he gave in to what he felt now... Amy sensed his slight frustration and made the decision to push away the last of her worries. She playfully lifted both the hem of the shirt and the front flap of the breechcloth. It caused him to suck in his breath and freeze. His own garment now looked like a small tent there in his lap when she looked, and as she raised her gaze, she found herself looking at those bright blue eyes that she loved to stare into. There was a tense moment of silence between them until Amy smiled with helpless little shrug. "Just trying to help," she said. He lowered his gaze and doggedly struggled to get the measurement. When he had it, he pinched the strip tightly between his forefinger and thumb so as not to lose it as he let the other end go and spread his fingers around her haunch to cup it. Stormfeather smiled a tiny bit as her scent filled his nose. He allowed himself just a brief moment to commit the sight of her red hair to memory before he moved the hand holding the strip to her other thigh and then leaned close to plant a slow and soft kiss that brought her sigh to him. He thought it was the nicest sound that he'd ever heard. When he knelt back, he found her green eyes shining down on him, "Trying to make friends?" She asked in a whisper. He could only nod a little, "The hair is shorter now," he said in some confusion. Amy chuckled once nervously, "I found my small scissors. I hope you like it." He sighed, and nodded with a soft smile. "I almost hate myself for saying this, but could you please mark that measurement down or whatever you have to do?" "It is not what I really want to do now," he said. "I know," she sighed, "but if you do that again, you'll do something else I'd really want you to do, I just know it. Nobody's ever done that for me before and I'm almost sure that my knees would give out and then I'd fall down." Her fingers ran lightly over the rim of his ear for a moment. "I think we both know where this will go and if you want to stop making the leggings for now, it will be fine with me, Arn." He rose up slightly and kissed below her navel before resting his head there against her hard belly as he held her. "I love you, Sheena. I want to take care of you." The feeling from him filled her with pleasure when the thought of it came to her and she nodded, though he couldn't see the gesture. "I know," she said, "thank you for this, the way that you have your head here." She buried her fingers in his long hair. "I don't think that I can explain it, but it makes me feel very special." "I have a picture of you in my mind with them on and I want very much to see you like that," he said. "If you can wait that long," she breathed softly as she found her fingers toying with one of his thin braids, "then I guess I can too. I want to feel them on me because you made them for me, like a hug that I can walk in. How long will it take?" "These will be for summer," he said quietly as his hand caressed her bottom, "for you to wear right now if you want. I will make others for colder weather. These ones will be a little open at the sides above the knee, they will not take long." She found that he hadn't been far wrong as she watched his hands fly in the making of the leggings. It wasn't much more than half an hour before he held them out for her a little shyly from where he sat on the porch. He loved the way that her eyes shone as she stared at them. Amy giggled as she snatched them from him happily to run into the house. She couldn't wait to get them on. She stood in front of the long mirror which had been one of her mother's favorite possessions. Amy had always loved that they had it as she grew up. With the leggings on and laced up under her long breechcloth, she smiled as she put her moccasins back on and tried her vest over top. It was such a thrill to see herself now much like she'd been in her sketch. Her thoughts ran to him. "Come here and see, Arn," she called out. He walked in and stood there with a proud smile at her happiness, "I see that you like them," he said quietly, "so I am pleased." Amy's heart seemed to flutter in her chest at how his simple words could make her feel. She was in his arms within a second. "I'm happier with the things that you've made than I could ever be in even the finest gown from France. Thank you, Arn." He took her hand and led her to the mirror. "I will make better things for you the next time. I need to get some beads and see how the women put them on the things that they make," he said as he adjusted the way that her vest hung on her shoulders from behind her. Amy loved the way that they felt on her skin. She was sure the feeling would pass as she became used to the clothes, but for now, each tiny motion that she made caused a thrill as they moved against her body. It only added to her arousal. She pressed back against him as she caught his eyes in the mirror with her own and pulled his arms around her. He leaned around her head to kiss her cheek and neck. Amy sighed and whispered to him, "I love you Arn. I can't even say what I'm feeling right now." Unnoticed by the two, Winky had followed them inside and thought the whole building was a wonder. She knew what it was – it was their den. She couldn't decide whether she liked to be in a den as large as this one obviously was. Every one that she'd ever been in was much more close and snug. She was just beginning to look around and everywhere there seemed to be so much to explore. But then she heard Amy's soft sigh and turned her gaze in the direction of it. Amy stepped away out of his arms and walked to the bed. She bent down with a thought to take off her moccasins, but then glanced back at him. This would be the start of it, she realized, now and right here - the beginnings of what her dreams had told her had to happen. Well if that were so, she just couldn't see why they couldn't do this the same way that they seemed to do everything else – by their own path. The man that she loved to look at appeared to be beyond the capability for much discussion, so... Stormfeather watched in fascination as she looked back and smiled a little - upside down and softly framed by her long red hair. The smile grew wider as she straightened and untied the belted portion of her own breechcloth to lay it down. She bent down again to slip her moccasins off and then thought to unlace enough of her leggings to be able to slip them off her long legs. "Please," he asked almost whispering, "Please, leave them on." Amy felt a thrill now that she understood it. They both seemed to like this. He'd really enjoyed their teasing as he'd measured her and she'd been so happy to play along, though it was torture to her at the same time. She now saw that it had been a bit of torture to him as well, doing his best – and failing – to ignore everything there to get these delightful-feeling clothes made and on her for this. "Do you like me this way?" She asked it slowly, so softly that the sound of it made his penis twitch so hard that he thought it might break. He removed his own simple garment and she sighed. "Now that, "she said quietly, trying to think of a way to make this even better, "that's another thing about you that I've dreamed of." There was no joke to how she'd said it. She was being sincere and truthful. An idea came to her and she tried to emphasize what she'd been given with a tiny backward thrust. It brought him to her in an instant, so much better than speaking, she thought, now that her mouth felt so dry, suddenly. Amy felt his hand on her flank, sliding gently down along the open side seams of her leggings for a moment. When she felt those fingers bumping along gaps of the side laces on the inside and rising, she moved forward slowly to kneel on the bed while she still had the ability. "What you were thinking of doing out there on the porch, honey," she said, "What I was aching for you to do, please, Arn." He knelt on the floor, still lightly sliding his fingers just at the tops of the leggings as she spread her knees apart a bit more. He was still coming closer to the throb that he'd caused in her again. "Oh, God, Arn," she sighed, "if you love me at all, please do it now." She felt the first of his light kisses and wondered if her heart might be failing her. She moaned softly as she felt his tongue begin to explore her and she was fairly certain that her poor heart was failing her right then. The damn thing might just explode soon, she thought. She lowered herself onto the forearms and looked back, but other than some portions of him, there wasn't much to see. It wasn't important, but Amy was still in some disbelief that all of this was really happening. And it felt so wonderful. She hung her head and whimpered as his tongue slipped inside for a few moments. In spite of the feeling, she became aware of his sounds after a few seconds. The solitary wandering warrior who could likely do anything but fly was groaning softly. She looked back again, and though she couldn't see all of him, she saw enough to know that he wasn't pleasuring himself in any way – and yet she could feel from him that he felt pleasure from this. Amy sighed, but she found her voice, though it came out in a half-whisper that seemed to thrill them both. "Does this make you feel good too?" He didn't answer for a moment or two, but he paused and slid his tongue higher for an instant to wet her anus before, working it back down into a slick caress on the spot in between her openings . Before she could gasp, his tongue was gone again and he whispered, "Yes. I cannot feel what you feel from this, but I feel how your heart sings from what I do." He licked her anus again and she groaned. "I have done this before, though so long ago. It gives me a pleasure I have never known before to do this now," he sighed a little breathlessly, "I am very surprised." Amy remembered the mirror hopefully and turned her head. She couldn't see the back half of him, as though he just ended there in a line as he knelt there, but she could see everything from that line forward in the reflection. She arched her back downward in order to present herself to him better and watched as he drew his head back for a moment. Her eyes noticed his tongue as he brought it between her flanks and she felt herself penetrated again, but she managed to keep her eyes open to continue to watch him love her there. This was primal and no doubt dirty to the fine and haughty Santa Fe women that her profession as a teacher brought her into contact with. But to her it was beautiful and natural. It was what had to be between them. He moaned softly as he pressed his face to her so that he could try to suck out one of her inner lips. She smiled in pleasure when he'd managed it, watching and feeling those strong hands of his glide over the parts of her that he could reach. Besides, she grinned in a moment where she had the time to grasp the thought, she knew there wasn't a woman among them all who wouldn't give a lot to have a man like him do something this thoughtful and primally dirty to them. She felt his nose against her lips there and somehow knew what he'd do next. No matter that she'd tried to prepare in her anticipation of it, she was still taken as he ran his tongue so that her nub felt as though it skittered wetly against the surface of it. As nice as it had been, it was nothing to how it felt as he drew it back. Amy wanted to protest and plead for that again, but he was already doing it. All that she could do was enjoy it and wonder what was controlling her own voice as she heard herself whimper and mewl. ------------------------------ Winky wondered at what they were doing now. She decided that they seemed to like her and it pleased her since she already liked them and how they'd seemed to allow her to stay. She hoped for their acceptance soon, but then suddenly realized what she was watching here. She knew what this would lead to soon. Winky didn't really know how her supposition applied to them, but to her, it seemed as though they were about to begin to mate. The thought surprised her. Why would that be going on if there was a stranger such as her in their midst? To her mind, she should have been warned away with threats. But she hadn't been. And they were mating – or about to very soon now. It could only mean one thing. She turned and walked silently to the open door. Out on the porch, she looked around carefully. She skipped down the few steps and prowled quickly around the building, watching and looking cautiously all around. There were horses in the barn and they seemed content for the moment. Her eyes went to the rise where they'd all walked down here from. Nothing. She slunk around to the front again and looked off down onto the scrub plain for a moment. Nothing untoward came to her notice, so she stepped back onto the porch and cast a long look at the distant ridge. Again, nothing. If this was what she thought that it might be, she felt that she ought to do what she'd done with the other members of her pack when her parents mated and looked vigilantly to be sure that nothing interrupted them. Stormfeather Ch. 07 It was what all wolves do in such a circumstance. The pack forms a ring of watchers looking outward, some close in, and some placed themselves farther out so that they could provide an early warning to the rest. The same care went into it when the lead female was whelping. Nothing could be allowed to stop that either. Satisfied to the moment, Winky turned to go back inside. She sank down to watch for a few minutes, very relieved and happy now to have been accepted into their pack. ----------------- Just as a historical footnote, there was a woman called Gouyen though obviously the incident with Stormfeather never happened. After the deed which made her famous among the Apache people, she rode with Victorio's band, fighting and evading the armies of both the Mexican and the American governments. As one of the few survivors after an attack by Mexican troops, she rode with Geronimo until they were taken prisoner by the U.S. Army, along with others in Geronimo's band. They were held as prisoners of war at Fort Sill, Oklahoma, where she died in 1903. Stormfeather Ch. 08 Well, I couldn't just leave them there, could I? ~grin~ Anyway, I tried to put a lot into this one. -------------------- Amy found herself so relaxed and taken away by his gentle attentions. Stormfeather sucked and teased her lips out every so often for long minutes at a time before going back to her now-aching clitoris. She'd pulled the pillow to her and rested her head on it as she watched the idyllic wonder of what they did in the mirror. But gradually, that bud of hers began to grow more insistent, and there was a need rising in her now to be filled. She struggled as she listened to the soft sounds that both of them made, and it amazed her again how he derived pleasure from it without touching himself. When she'd been with that young man long ago, he wasn't able to keep his hands from his own toy if what they did didn't actively involve it for much more than a minute. She was about to mention her need to him when she felt him shift. Before she knew it, really, he stood beside her and there was one of his hands between her flanks, rubbing her in delicious ways as he wet it against her sopping wet sex. Stormfeather leaned forward into what she knew must be an awkward position for him and she felt his other hand beginning to gently work one of her breasts. Amy groaned down low in her throat and tried to present her sex even more to him in offering. She felt so incredibly female now it was beyond absurd to her, though it was just what had to be. It was what her body demanded now. She knew it and so did he. She froze for a second and then whimpered happily when he'd drawn out one of her lips carefully with his fingers to knead and squeeze it so very gently that she barely felt anything like a pull on it. Amy had never known that anything like this could feel so good – and these were parts of her own body. If anyone ought to know what felt good to her, well she'd have thought that she'd be the resident expert, wouldn't she? After all, she played with the toybox that was her own body every chance that she got for it most nights. When she opened her eyes to look at the mirror, the expression of love on his face made her want to burst into tears. He could say the simplest phrase in his sometimes struggling way, but she felt what was meant. Just his light touch in the most mundane circumstance of conversation or other interaction between them lifted her heart every time – especially if she felt tired or weary as she'd been during the night when they'd ridden all of those miles along the hidden paths that only he knew would be there. The look on his face now as he admired her and touched her so intimately was almost too much for her. She felt his maleness as it pressed against her lightly from the way that he stood. "Stormfeather, "she sighed to him, knowing the way that her voice affected them both like this, "you sweet thing, please, rub that against me somewhere if you can. I need to know that you get something from this too now." She sighed as she felt the pressure increase against her cheek back there as he began to stroke against her gently. The way that his hand seemed to be sliding down to her nipple to rub and squeeze there thrilled her. She felt so relaxed and wonderful at this. She almost felt as though her were milking her, though the bovine comparison was far too crude for the way that it felt. This wasn't anything like that, she realized, but she did feel a slight wish that when he did this that there could be just a little milk there for him. She couldn't even explain it to herself, she just wished for it since it seemed to fit for her then. She remembered her dream watching him with his long-dead wife. There hadn't been any of this then, what he was doing for her now. Then again, she thought, when he'd last been happy to have a human woman to love with had occurred over eight centuries earlier. Back then in that wilderness, she knew that they'd been lovers before his wife's murder. At that time, they'd already been together and married for over a year and were no strangers to each other's bodies. She knew from her visions that the woman who'd done something loving for her man every night, somehow and without fail had only been barely twenty when she'd died. Amy had no clue if what she saw was passed the other way in the strange mechanism of her dreams and visions, but if there was a chance that the spirit of Stormfeather's first wife had some way to be aware of what was happening to the man she'd loved so much back then, Amy sent her quiet and very sincere thanks in that direction. She barely had the time for it when one of his fingers made its entrance and she moaned so softly in appreciation. She saw him bend down to wet his fingers more and then she felt that little part of her blossom almost glow from the sliding pressure of another of his fingers, but even as she struggled to welcome the new feeling of that, she gasped when she felt his thumb begin to prowl near her other opening, circling, teasing. She knew what this was instinctively. He was giving her fair warning. Amy had never really explored herself there at all, but now she sent her reply with a push backward. She gave a small gasping cry when his thumb entered there to remain at the entrance, just inside as he moved it so very deliciously in tiny movements - here and there, up and down, side to side. Amy couldn't take much more subtlety. She wanted more and as incredible as all of this felt to her, this had taken so long already and she hadn't even gotten over the crest yet – though she admitted that she'd been to the edge a few times for a long minute or two. But this had to end soon, she thought, this had to get to some kind of release for her. She had no idea what would happen if it didn't, but she clearly couldn't be kept here forever – could she? "Please, "she moaned as she sought out the word for what she wanted him to do for them now. She had one crude word for the act, but she didn't know what it meant to him. It was insane, she thought to herself, what the hell word would he know for this? He must surely know the right word in any of the many languages that he'd had to pick up in his travels. Her voice sounded like a croak to her, so filled with her need of him, "Please, Arn. I'm about to beg for it soon and, "she groaned as he moved in a different way, "I need you now. Please, ..." a word came to her, "please, mount me now. Please,... oh, Stormfeather, forgive me, but I really need for you to fuck me now." Her eyes had been squeezed shut, but he paused and she opened them to look at the mirror. He was looking right into her eyes across that distance. It might have been from a foot away, the way that the intensity of his gaze seemed to her. She could see his own need looking back at her and her hot tears ran then. "I try not to torture you, beautiful one," he said, "I need you as well, but I also need a moment or two more to do this for you. You are so lovely like this, but I need to see something else in your face first because I know it to be there inside you." She had no idea what he was talking about, but when all of his other hand motions stopped at the back end of her body, and yet he didn't move to reposition himself, she knew that here must be something on the way. She almost jumped off the bed as she felt two of his fingers slide in, but she began to push back urgently for what she needed. On one of her trips forward, she lost him and threw herself back in her desperate need to have some part of him inside her again. If she couldn't find him within about a half-second or less, she was certain that she'd lose her mind now. He let go of her breast and leaned down to look at her with his face there sideways on her lower back. "I won't leave you here. I will finish your journey for you, but try to hold yourself still." He might have just as well been speaking Chinese to her. It was incomprehensible to her that he was asking for her to wait. She wanted to buck and thrash. She wanted to rage against him for leaving her here on this lonely beach. Most of all she couldn't believe the way that he'd positioned himself on her this way. He was preventing her from thrusting backwards. But his fingers entered her again, so she thought that at least she'd have that while she sought for the words that she'd need to question his sanity or his motives. But he still held her steadily as his own motions began and then everything made sense to her and she wanted to shake her head at her doubts of him. His fingers stroked in and out of her, but they felt different somehow and even better. He didn't go hard or fast, but then he somehow knew that the way that this felt, she wouldn't want that from him - yet. She'd just settled into the rhythm that his hand proposed when she realized what he'd done. He'd crossed his fingers when she'd missed on her backward stroke. Her eyes opened at herself in the reflection, but she lost most of her sanity when he began to rotate his hand as he stroked in and out of her. The way that the knuckle of his third finger brushed her bud felt like a pleasant aching lightning bolt right through her every time. Amy found that she couldn't move now. He'd taken even that ability from her. She just held herself up as best she could and let him take her wherever he wanted. She didn't even know what words came out of her mouth anymore. They might have been thankful and loving praises from her, but then again, for all that she knew, she might just as well have been cursing and pleading like any wanton trollop for more and more and faster. None of it mattered, because Stormfeather was listening to the most incredible music from deep inside of the one who held his heart. She wasn't managing to say anything coherent at all. He looked at her in the mirror and watched as she trembled with her head hung down, her hair hanging around her and partially on the bed. Now and then, she'd shake it and he watched her incredible hair dance around her then for a moment. But the sounds that came out of her? Purely animal. That was as it ought to be if he was doing this the best way for her, he thought.T he way that it thrilled him to hear for what it meant and where he was taking her, beyond this bed. He got only one brief look at her face and it showed him more of her beauty as she grunted and moaned. But it was enough. He'd never spent much time in the arms of women as he wandered. He'd very seldom had the chance of it, and if they had even a clue that there was another side to his nature, none of them would have wanted their original lustful thoughts as they'd watched him walk past or talk to their chieftains. He'd known there had been women who'd wanted him on the spot in the towns that he'd passed through when it had been impossible to go around. He'd felt it from them. But he'd never acted upon it. It could only cause trouble and as far as he was concerned, they weren't the same species anyway. Not like Sheena. He sighed to himself, truly happy now. Sheena was worth anything. He moved a little and when he judged the time to be right for it, he'd really begun to stroke until she bucked and howled for him. It was that sound that was the thing for him. He knew that she had little ability at that one moment for a word or to manage even the single syllable name that she now seemed to want to use most often. It didn't matter. If there was a purely animal noise that she could have made right then to tell him of her love for him, she'd just made it, and he'd heard her when she'd screamed it to him just now. He waited until the contractions on his fingers faded. Stormfeather glanced at her, moving his gaze from looking at her there in front of him directly to seeing her in profile in the large looking glass. Her ribs heaved and her head hung in weakness. He knew that her elbows, knees, and most especially her hips might now be managing to get their messages of discomfort up her brain stem through to her brain itself. Left to herself, he knew that she'd likely want to ease herself down to rest. But that was why he was holding her up with his mind, waiting in silence and watching keenly. He waited, judging the time for it. The moment was everything here, he knew somehow. Too early was too soon for where he wanted to take her now and they'd never get there, as wonderful as this was between them. In that event, he'd have to try again later. Three seconds too late and it would almost be rape, since she'd likely have decided that this was all for now, and he certainly didn't want that. But there was one moment in between... Only one magical moment during which he had to begin it if this was to be. If there was the ability in him from his father's side even still, he reached for it now, the same ability to pass his love to the one who loved him so that even her body would know it the way that his mother's body had known it from his father and his poor dead wife had known if from him so long ago. He'd expected hopefully to pass this feeling to Sheena, but what came to him an instant or so later shook him to his core. It had been his hope to give her what came from only a very few of his father's people, but what he was now and the foretelling played a part, though neither of them knew it just yet. He saw his chance and Amy's head snapped up in surprise as he slid into her slowly. Amy thought that it was over now that she'd come so hard. She'd have thought that she'd be too sensitive for anything for a while now, but Stormfeather knew that right now, she was more ready for this than she'd have ever been otherwise. He just didn't know what else would pass between them. In that one incredible moment that a man takes the female that he cares so much about for the first time, there are a lot of feelings that might be said to come to him if he owned a feeling heart. He felt her inviting wetness and warmth, all of it and it was a wonder to him that after all of the centuries, he couldn't remember it ever feeling this right and this good. But there was far more to it here, he realized too late as he continued to slide into the part of her that had so captivated him as he'd loved it. He couldn't stop his entrance. Not if his life had depended on it. He was drawn to slowly complete this one stroke, and when he was fully inside her, he knew without a doubt that he was being held fast, but not by Sheena. This was something else. She felt his incredible warmth flood through her – even faster than he's entered her. She thought that this might be the sexual version of what she felt from him whenever he'd touched her, and it was all of that, but it also brought her something else. When that wave ran through her toward her head, she froze and gasped. All of her tingled now, every piece of her. She opened her eyes to stare at the tip of the third finger on her left hand in amazement. She could feel it even there. But when he was fully inside her, Stormfeather stopped and gasped himself, trembling for a long moment. In that moment, Amy couldn't move, she could only quiver against him, Her mouth opened and for only an instant, she watched her own drool run down, falling away for sliver of time. But then that warmth reached her head and it was all that she could do to breathe through the bright flash that she saw in her mind. Amy had many visions over the next minute or two that they were locked together in this – and she somehow had no doubt from the trembling that she felt from him that he was as taken here as she was. Her mind reeled with distress for a moment as she watched herself in the throes of her own metamorphosis, her mouth open in a howling shrieking scream of agony past her own long bared teeth in her human face. She saw him with tears in his eyes as she struggled in vain against him screeching. There was blood all over the front of him and she realized that she'd done that to him trying to get free in her madness. Amy saw herself tied up against a pair of wooden pilings and howling in fury as she continually tested her bonds. She saw herself begging him to be freed, but knowing in her own heart that it would have been the worst thing that he could have ever done, even out here in the middle of nowhere. She'd have done her very best to kill him, the horses, and even poor Winky. At times, she'd pleaded and begged her need of him even there – even like that. She cooed and whimpered to him that she needed this one comfort in her agony. When he'd refused , she'd cursed him, using words that he couldn't know, but he understood their intent all the same and felt the pain anyway. When she'd finally cajoled, beseeched, and implored him enough, he'd acquiesced and approached to take her as she hung from the pilings. Amy was horrified, since she knew what she'd really planned to do to his face when he got close enough. It had been a trap that she'd set for him in her insanity. But when she'd thought to bite and hurt him, he'd forced her head up and away, and still he'd loved her slowly, kissing her throat softly until she grew quiet - even like that, and it calmed her enough afterward for her to offer her heartfelt apology and thanks. When it was over, Amy watched herself hanging catatonically as he carefully cut only partially through her bonds, having judged the time to be right for it, and then he walked to stand some distance away to await either the weary and slow recovery of her dignity or her next frantic attack so that she might kill him. She watched herself staring at her bonds as she slowly tore the cords loose one by one to walk stiff- legged and bone-weary to Stormfeather so that she could collapse into his guilt-ridden arms. He looked up from his own weariness from having watched over her. Stormfeather held her as though she were a small child and bathed her with water from the well before he fed her water and hot broth. He tried to lay her down in this very same bed to sleep, but she refused to let go of him, wanting only his embrace, and when she woke in the gray dawn, she saw that he slept, and turned herself around slowly and gently so that the first thing that he might see as he awoke was her suckling his sex, since it was the only thing that she could give as her thanks for how he'd cared for her. She was still too weak to stand. He asked her why and she heard herself tell him that with nothing near to her that she could do for him, she did what her heart told her to and that she'd was hungry and wanted this. This was the only scene in the collage that lasted for very long. The scenes gathered speed after that. She saw herself against him often in many places, each passing by so quickly that she had no time to see more than that it was them together, sitting, talking, walking. hunting, eating, sleeping, bathing, loving. The sun glared down on them in a lonely place as she defended him with her weapons and agonized over him as he healed afterward. Before the shock of that had fully passed, they were naked as they were at this instant and making love on the shore of a desert lake looking for all the world like a human couple, but in the next instant, she saw them again just inside the entrance to a rock cave as she rode him while they ran their clawed fingers through each other's fur. She saw them travelling on horseback after her mare had finally gotten over her new fear of Amy, coming at last to know that this was still her friend. She watched them face other threats which made no sense to her whatsoever, but what she learned was that their love went on wherever they journeyed. She didn't know where these scenes were supposed to occur or when and she didn't care at all. The visions showed Amy that she was his and he was hers – that she'd survive what lay ahead for them and the nights when they had little to eat were as nothing to her for the way that she looked when she saw them sleeping together. Stormfeather Ch. 08 The final scene would have made her cry – if she'd had the ability then – and she didn't, but it told her everything in an instant in such a poignant way that she thought that her heart had burst and she was only waiting for her blood to stop moving so that she might die in joy. They were laughing quietly at some small joke as they sat on a high ridge looking down in twilight. She sat between his legs and he sat behind her holding her with his arms and looking over her shoulder with her as their fur blew fitfully in the wind and snowflakes danced whenever the wind let off. Winky was curled into a ball of slightly red fur as she napped against them. The visions were gone then and she sniffled, more determined to die loving him than anything else, if that's what it took now. She saw that she'd drooled a wet spot onto the covers and finally closed her mouth. Amy was amazed at what she felt now, and it took her no time at all to go from compliance so that he could come to his own release to where she was now. She was past feeling spent. She was even past feeling only her need to be fucked recklessly and shamelessly. That was all past, and this was what she'd wanted, though she couldn't have known that it could be this way. She felt his hands on her, she felt his manhood deep within her and she still thrilled to his touch. She remembered the mirror and looked. Her friend looked like a slightly different person now. She still saw him as her incredibly powerful friend – that hadn't changed. She even saw him in the guise of her new and somehow preordained lover pushing her higher effortlessly. It was an instinctive and automatic increment in how she saw him. He was what she'd wanted, after all. But there was something else there, something incredible beyond the wonderful way that his body looked to her as he loved her again without giving her the time to withdraw inside of herself to call it done. She laid her head on the pillow and watched, closing her eyes now and then from the feelings. One of his hands was on one of her hips at all times, but either way, one of them was always petting and stroking her and there, enjoying the feel of her skin, or some tiny feature about her body that he'd suddenly found himself taken with. There was no mistaking the emotion that she felt from him. It was there all over him from his face to any other part of him that her eye drifted to. She just couldn't understand why both of them weren't glowing from it now. Her skin felt as though it ought to be shining in the reflection. He turned his head, feeling her gaze and they smiled at each other, both lost in the swell of their own hearts for one another. She felt all of that, but there was something else. To her, she'd staked her claim on him as her man, and it was exactly the same from his side of this, but what came to her then was so much more of the very quiet and powerful feeling that she'd gotten from him when he'd smiled and nodded to her that night in her vision, and that acceptance – from one such as him – sealed a lot of things for her right then. Now, she knew that if she needed his last breath, he'd give it freely, and if he only asked, she'd give him anything. She'd take whatever came to her with his bite and face the risks – even if it was her own death, because this meant everything to her. She resolved that no matter where their journey took them, somehow, he'd be there for her and she would find a way to love him every single night. She'd get his gush somehow, just as she knew that it would come to her many times this first real day between them. She wouldn't stop now because that also meant everything to her. She didn't have the luxury of offering this part of herself to him every night of every month, but she'd do something for him because he was worth ... well, everything to her, she smiled. To Amy's mind, he was different and that was fine with her at least until she became the female to the male that he was. She knew that she'd get her chance to be every bit as wild with him when they both showed their fur as she'd seen herself to be in her dreams. She looked forward to it. As the sweet way that his heavy scrotum had of beating itself against her nub and the way that his sliding in and out seemed to drag against her began to get to her, she felt herself making those sounds again. But this time she tried to put a lot more into them, trying in vain for the words and having to trust that he got what she meant as he grunted, faster now. Amy's next orgasm was fast-rising. It hit her hard and all that she could do was groan loudly and hold still. Arn didn't stop and she wouldn't have wanted him to, not this time. Not for anything. When it had passed, she gave it some thought as she could. She knew what this was and what it meant. It was the start between them - two creatures who needed each other so much. Without a doubt, he was telling her again that he considered her to be his equal in everything that passed between them. Amy smiled at him again and sighed as she moved a little. The sigh turned into a groan from the feelings and her own effort to reposition herself. He wanted her and she'd give him the best that she could. She placed her hands and began to buck back against the most awesome man on earth to her. This would take a while now, she knew. If he could fuck as effortlessly as he could ride that horse all night and look fresh and ready to go another hundred miles. She was in for a long loving indeed. She'd had two of those climaxes before he finished. But the last, just after his shuddering was the best by far to her. She felt him swell inside her, so hard now. And then she felt him freeze against her as deeply inside of her as he could get without causing her pain. The slight motions of his contractions and the way that her clitoris was pushed from his pressure did it for her, but it was slower for her and she just gave herself over to the feeling and groaned long and loud as he filled her. She waited for him to leave her after a few minutes, knowing that he'd have to sometime, but not wanting this to end yet. But he didn't. Amy was confused after two more minutes of it. "Stormfeather, are you still alive back there? Aren't you finished?" She looked at the mirror and he smiled to her a little weakly. He didn't answer right away, but then she heard him. "No." "What?" He stroked her ribs and shoulders so softly, "Wait, Sheena." She was about to ask what she'd be waiting for, but he began to slide in and out again, just a little in tiny motions. He was still hard. Amy didn't think that she had much ability to reciprocate for him now, but then she felt his next contractions and she gasped and moaned very quietly. It felt so good to her to try to squeeze him. For some strange reason, she felt herself shudder and tremble weakly. Winky watched with interest. They were different from her, but she could recognize what was happening now. He was filling her again. She knew somehow that he was like any wolf in this, now that she'd seen him do it twice, she knew that there would be several more like this. And there were. Four more times Amy felt him do it. She was confused now, but she'd ask him later. She didn't want anything to get in the way of this for him and how she thrilled a little to feel it from him. By the time that he was done, her legs ran with it. She got her leggings off as she lay on her back with her legs up and Stormfeather found a clean towel to clean her with. The way that she was and her motions had the effect of causing more of his semen to leave her. He apologized but she wasn't having any of it at all. He froze when she reached between her legs to seize his jaw. She tilted her head at him as one of her legs came down to gently rest over his large shoulder, "Are you nuts?" She looked up at the rafters for a second, laughing for a few moments, and then looked back at him. "That was so good, I may never recover. Stop apologizing, my dear beautiful friend." She reached for the towel and held it to herself for him. "Come here," she ordered gently. When he crawled over her, she threw her free arm around his neck and pulled him to her. She kissed him like she meant it – since she did, and gave up holding the towel to throw her other arm around him. "Never ever say that again to me in bed, Arn. You hear me? Never. I don't want to hear that you're sorry for the things that make you different ever again. I don't even know what all you just did to me, but I'm so happy for it all. You've got some juice to you and when you love me like that, I want it all." She kissed his nose and nodded, "Every single drop. How can you do that, anyway?" He looked a little ashamed, but then remembered what she was always telling him, so he dropped the look and replaced it with a more confident one and pointed to the red wolf lying there on the floor. "If Winky could speak and you asked her, she would tell you that it is because that part of me is closer to what the males of her kind are like. After I was bitten, and I found myself alone as I sought the one who made me this. I, - I pleasured myself and when I thought that I had finished, I found that I really hadn't." He shrugged, "I had more. Have you ever watched wolves or dogs when they mate?" Amy nodded, "Yeah, sure. Why?" He shook his head, "Have you ever watched until the end?" She smirked, "Yes, they look a little silly then, the way they stand together like that." He grinned. "When they stand like that, the male is still filling the female in little spurts. That is why they lock together, so that it can be passed between them." Her mouth fell open slowly, "But, ... how long ... how long can they go on for like that?" He shrugged, "I have done this for almost a quarter of an hour sometimes when I was alone and I really needed to." He found his view changed suddenly and looked up at the rafters in some surprise himself then, but he found her on top of him giggling and squirming to get near his throat to kiss him after that. "Holy cow," she said after a moment, "You're every bit as heavy as you look." She stopped for a moment, "What else did you do to me? I felt something in there somewhere when you got into me. What was that?" Her eyes opened in realization a moment later. "You marked me," she said. "I don't know how or what it means, but you marked me somehow, didn't you? Is this a part of what you are – and what I'll be?" He shook his head, "No, this is something that comes from my family – from many of the men of my father's kind. It goes with my ability to burn down trees and make Sheena smile at the glowing toy that I can put in her hand. But what happened then to me is something that has never happened before. I saw things, Sheena. I saw ...us." She nodded in happiness, "I did too. I watched us as you helped me through it all. I saw us travel together. Is that what you saw?" He nodded, shocked that what he'd seen had been common between them. "Then it means that you've chosen me, right?" He nodded, "My father told me none of these things. It is for when you have the one and you know it. It makes the other person able to feel your love everywhere and all at once. It is for only with one in a lifetime when you love them every time after. My father wanted nothing of his family's magic, but he wanted this for what was between him and my mother. He told me nothing, but she would not let it pass and bothered him until he told her. When I was old enough to actually notice girls, my mother told me to be careful with my heart. When I was sure of the one I wanted, she told me about it again but said to be careful over my choice. But, I thought that it could only be done once. I have never had the chance to try again until now with you." Amy looked at him in wonder, "So, if you did that to me, what does it mean?" He smiled a little hopefully, "It means that I want you for myself, for as long as I am alive. It is a gift that changes nothing. If you begin to hate me and we grow apart, you may love another man and it will be as it always was for you. It only feels different with me now. But the other – the feeling and the things that I saw, that was something new. I think – I think that I saw how you see then." She smiled, a little slowly at first, but it spread into a wide grin soon after. She looked down at him, seeing him in the same wonderful way, but a little differently now as well. There were parts of him that she just had to taste, she told herself. She looked down at the wide chest and looked right past the thin scars to admire his perfection with new eyes. Her hand went to caress one of his pectoral muscles and she lowered her head to gently suck on his nipple for a moment. But her eyes were open half way through that and she stared at the tendon and the underlying muscle group which connected his arm to his chest through his shoulder. She drew herself up a little and lunged for it, squeezing gently between her teeth before she looked down into the bright blue eyes with a soft smile. "What a coincidence, "Amy grinned as her fingers found their way to his hair, "I feel the very same way. I have something to ask you, if I could." "Ask it then," he smiled. "I know that this will probably go against everything here, the way that it's done here, and how it must have been among your people where you were born. It might go against the way that your father's people did things too, I sure don't know, but ,... "she exhaled and wondered why she felt so foolish to want to ask, but she just had to. "Would you let me..." "Stormfeather, can I please make love to you?" -------------------- I'm kind of at a fork in the road with this one now. I suppose that I could get them places and doing things again. Then again, ~chuckle~ I could just give Amy a chapter while she has her way with him. Stormfeather Ch. 09 Amy dragged herself inside the house. It was the second day after her recovery. The day before had been spent in her bed either being tended to by Stormfeather or just holding herself against him and listening as he spoke quietly, telling her the things that she needed to know - now that there was some sanity back in her head for him to work with. When she wasn't doing that, she'd slept. She'd had no strength, other than her will for much of anything. He'd even had to carry her at least part of the way so that she could urinate when she'd finally felt the need to once again. It had struck her as rather odd, the way that he'd grinned then as he'd stood a little way off. She'd asked him what the hell was so funny, and he'd only grinned wider for a moment. "I am very happy," he'd told her, "if you need to do this, it means that your body has come to accept what it now is, and is setting about, ... " He struggled for a suitable phrase, "dealing with things such as its own care -- if this makes sense." Oddly enough she knew what he'd meant. "You mean it's taking care of business," she said, "like settling down to just running itself again." He'd nodded then, "Yes." Stormfeather had looked away for a moment, as though he was addressing the distant ridge, "I am not enjoying your weakness at all." "Right," she'd said then as she finished. But it marked a rather different moment to her in that one instant. Amy had felt a strong urge within her for just a second. The only thing which had prevented her from acting upon it was her state of weakness and the floppy way that her limbs had felt to her at the time. For just a moment, Amy had wanted nothing more than to crouch down even lower, feel the dirt between the pads of her feet as she tensed them to spring at him playfully. It had been the damndest thing. But the moment passed as she recognized that the state of her ability at the time would have likely had her sprawled out on her face in the dust. He'd turned his head toward her again and the look that she saw there had made her laugh in spite of everything. He'd known exactly what she'd wanted to do. But he didn't laugh or make any sort of fun at her expense. He'd just helped her as she'd hobbled and picked her up to carry her when he'd seen that she was tiring. Amy decided that she liked it when he carried her. Her eye drifted to the places where she'd torn into him deeply in her madness. There was no sign of the trauma that she'd committed on him. He was as invincible, indestructible, and inviolate as ever. But even in the throes of her previously frenzied lunacy, she'd had enough moments of clarity to see the pain that she'd dealt him. She'd ripped the hell out of him physically and he'd just taken it and done nothing to defend himself. It was the things that she'd screeched and howled into his face which had hurt him the most, and she knew it now. She'd reached to caress his face then as he'd carried her to the house. "I didn't really mean the terrible things that I said and did to you, Arn. That was just what came out of me and I feel really badly for it." He'd looked at her as he walked, but she saw no recrimination there, "Sheena, if there is anyone who knows, it is me. You were not yourself. I know this. But you meant everything, because I restrained you and would not let you free. I expected it." She stretched herself a little to kiss his cheek, "I'm still very sorry." "I know this too," he said with a warm smile, "I hold nothing against you. You wanted my bite in that way, to show me that you were mine. How can I blame you for the way that you honored me? You were right, and it came upon you just that much more quickly and intensely because of it. I knew that it would likely happen. It was different for me. It took a long time to begin and I watched myself being tied and lashed to several trees long before I changed. I am happy that you are alive, and still have your wonderful mind and you still know and love me after everything. There is nothing to feel badly about." Amy thought back to how she'd asked to be bitten. She'd wanted to make love with him while he was in the wolfish form that she loved so. Stormfeather had little choice in it after he'd found her against him, pressing herself tightly to the one that she loved and running her hands through the fur and over the ridges of him. She remembered thinking that there was just so much of him for her to explore. As her fingers drifted over his body, Amy found herself moaning softly now and then. The feeling of him against her was beyond her ability to absorb and she couldn't help the happy smirk that she felt with her cheek against his chest as his large pawed hands held her. The fact that she was his went without saying to her; this was what she'd wanted. She couldn't imagine wanting anything more than this. The reason for her smirk was the realization that she couldn't even define this to herself beyond the knowing of it as a pure fact. But she also knew that she could never explain it to another person. As educated as she was, there was a point on her linguistic horizon where her words would just fail her if she'd even tried to tell her best friend Ximena about it. So she'd just stood in his embrace and inhaled his heat and his wonderful scent. Like any other animal's fur, Stormfeather's could and would pick up nuances and traces of the places that he'd been. A dog or a wolf could likely see a tapestry from it in their minds, she had no doubt, but she was only a human female, after all. Amy lacked this ability. But she did have enough in the way of olfactory aptitude to smell the soft scent of the whole. She began to pick out single things after a little while. She smelled the rocks of the pool and she could get some of the land's scent -- a little, anyway, and the woodsmoke was one of the easiest to come to her mind. But it was him -- his masculinity and power that she loved the most. There was no musk to it that she could determine. She didn't know a thing about the subtle scents that humans pass to each other and use to flavor their desire in choosing a mate. His scent carried little if any undercurrents. It was just him, a clean, friendly and warm scent. If anything, it alluded to his power as a male without carrying any musky undertones. The whole thing said 'male' plainly enough. There was no need for it to have anything else to it. For a human to pick this warmth up from him, she'd have to be this close, and if she was this close, one look said everything, she decided. Her hand drifted up so that her fingers could slide into his mane as she looked up into those eyes. The way that they regarded her told her that she'd won something remarkable. She struggled for a moment to think of something comparable. There was nothing even close. She thought of winning first prize at the state fair for something, and it was a terrible and anemic comparison. It didn't matter. She stood on her tiptoes to nuzzle against his warm throat and her sigh carried to his ears. The center of his maleness rose to begin to prod her belly down low and she pressed herself against it in response. Without will or thought, that part of him was already asking, ... showing it's intent, ... and making its sincere promise to her. She stretched up further and saw his mouth open as it came to hers. Her tongue teased his, and then it was inside her mouth as she pressed herself as much as she could to him with a whimper that she hadn't intended. She broke the kiss slowly and told him that she wanted him, and what she wanted from him. The eyes opened a little wider and he protested softly in warning as a last chance to reconsider. At once, she knew that he'd give her what she wanted, knowing that it had to be. They couldn't continue to love the way that it had gone between them for much longer. This was the next step -- if there was to be one. He knew it and so did she. They'd had this discussion as sanely as they could earlier. He knew it was what he wanted as well, and it was what needed to happen -- for reasons that he was only partly aware of, though wholly cognizant of at the same instant. Stormfeather wasn't thinking about any prophecy, though he knew there was some vague pull of it in play somehow. This was just the next step. This was just what had to be. In some saner moments, Stormfeather had argued against it, but she'd finally argued him down to admitting that if it didn't kill her, the metamorphosis would be quick and powerful. Amy had seen it in her vision, and seen that she'd lived through it, though the change had been hard for her -- just as he'd said that it would be. And so they'd begun it, a long night of loving between them. They'd both collapsed again a while earlier and held each other for a time. But as the sky had grown lighter, and as the first pink and golden rays of the morning sun turned the sky to flames, Amy felt both her need and her courage rising. She begged him for his bite to hold her still, to take her as his female just as she accepted him. She'd wanted to be his -- to be just what he was. She'd told him that she wanted this act to be what was the most natural for what they would be as a pair, and so she'd knelt before him and offered herself, knowing that the differences in their size and physiology made this possible. Amy loved how it felt as he pushed himself in deep like this while holding her with his teeth on her shoulder - but this time, she knew that it would be very different. She'd heard the grunting hiss of his hot breath as he'd pounded into her so that her knees lifted from the bed, felt his fur against her cheek and neck, sensing her blood run down over her breast and belly. He held his female still with his teeth and one hand on her hip to deliver his seed and she welcomed it from him as she bucked back against him with a hoarse and choked cry that contained his name somewhere in it. The pain had been awful as his teeth sank deeply into the flesh of her shoulder, but it had pushed them both harder as he drove her from behind. Just after her climax, she felt two things; the sweet throb as he filled her with the first of his contractions -- and the onset of the change as what he gave her raced through her system, driven by the wild beating of her heart. There were no hours spent in sickly feebleness, wondering and worrying. No, the way that they'd done it, she'd been able to close her eyes as she shuddered in his embrace and watch this come to her with the relentless inevitability of an approaching locomotive. Stormfeather knew it too. At her first tremors, he'd ignored the rest of his ejaculation to slowly pull out of her and force her gently onto her side so that he could do his best to hold her as it began. The first time that she'd lost consciousness, he'd carried her outside. Setting her down carefully, he'd built the fire that he'd need to chant over. Amy's nose registered the smells which came to her automatically, the aromatic scents that filled the air around them in the dawn, some of them sweet, some bitter and acrid. All of them bringing their effects to her all the same. Poor Winky had been locked into the house and had watched in paralyzed fear through the window as Sheena ceased to be Amy Monaghan and became something much more primal and wild out there in the dirt. As she writhed, he'd chosen his moment and dragged her as she'd screamed to begin the struggle to tie her up. The torture of the paroxysmal agony which was her transformation and first few changes took a long day. It had been just as she'd seen it -- everything -- the pain, the burning, itching, aching madness hitting her full-force as she changed shape and size in both directions, her muscles tearing almost loose along with her joints. Her jaw still hurt from the way that she'd distended it as she'd howled in her agony. She'd had to get to him. It had been all that held her together, that one singular thought which carried her through this. She'd shrieked and flailed, tearing him again and again as he ignored her demands that he set her loose on the world. He'd wiped his blood from his face and kept lashing her to the poles, one limb aflter another until she was bound. She'd hurt him and cursed him, torn flesh from him and damned him. She wondered what the hell she'd been thinking -- though she knew that there were no thought processes possible within her then. She screamed out her hatred -- since it was what she'd felt then -- all of it directed toward a seven foot tall beast who'd stood at last watching her with tears in his eyes as he bled from what she'd done to him. And she still remembered the sweet and gentle way that he'd taken her there after she'd begged him for it. She'd wanted to be fucked apart, she'd needed it so badly, but Arn hadn't done that, knowing what she'd really needed to get through the red fog in her mind. As wild and tormented as she'd been, she'd felt the way that he'd loved her, the crazed beastly bitch hanging from the poles out in the sun. Neither of them had come, but that hadn't really been the point. She'd rolled her eyes to look at him as he'd held her jaws away from his own throat while she'd tried to get him to hump faster. He'd been languid about it, quietly crooning that he loved her so. It took a while, but she got it when she wasn't straining against the things that held her. Her eyes were still wide, but he saw that she knew what he meant and she settled down in spite of everything as what he did calmed her. But she'd still needed to get to him if it was the last act that she'd commit on this earth. As she hung completely spent early in the evening, he'd cut into her bonds, she'd seen it. He'd stood there waiting, knowing that she'd finally weakened enough not to be able to tear them through more than one at a time -- and that required thought. It would prove to him that she was passing through this. She'd begged for his help, but he'd shaken his head and told her that only one at a time was the only way, starting with her feet. It had taken her strength directed by her thought to do it because she had no fine motor control to use in untying anything then. When the last one was off, Amy had fallen onto her face in the dust, sobbing. She pushed herself up to look at him, and that was the moment that they both knew. Her first movements were only to draw herself together, and then she'd crawled, and tried to stand, and fallen, and crawled again. But at last, what had been Amy now stood shaking on her own unsteady feet, the most beautiful she-wolf that there could possibly be in Arn's universe. As she'd collapsed into his arms, she'd only managed to get one thought past her lips, and with that, his Sheena had declared her love and lost consciousness once more. This morning, she'd gotten it into her head to see to her mare. She knew that it would be a long challenge for them both. Winky sat with Arn on the porch as Amy tried and tried, but her horse was intent on not being anywhere near her, no matter how she looked. It was only in the afternoon when she'd made just a little headway. The mare was confused, nickering and whinnying her fearful uncertainty, knowing the sound of that voice, the shape of her friend, but struggling to accept what her other senses told her. It was just what she felt that frightened her. Amy likely could have used a bit of her new strength or her speed, but she knew that it would likely only make things worse. It was the trust that had to be seen as unchanged between them. At least the horse allowed herself to be led now, though very nervously squealing and nickering the whole time. Amy walked wearily from the stables, and found Winky right there with her, as though she'd been waiting patiently the whole day for a little attention. Amy laughed and they went up the rise together, Winky bouncing around, and Amy half stumbling to get to the stream and the pool to wash off the dust. It wasn't until they walked back down that Amy noticed that he'd been busy. The smell of roasting pheasant filled her nostrils and she realized that now she had another hunger, though it was at least an old and familiar one this time. She was a little astonished as he served her dinner and she said so, as if this feast had sprung up out of the ground. He smiled and shook his head, "You were very busy. I took our friend for a walk, though I brought my bow." He watched her eat with more interest than he allowed to show, still concerned for her. Winky was very happy, liking the taste of the meat and the vegetables, though she'd have preferred a bone to gnaw on afterward, though she supposed that it didn't matter. They hadn't forgotten her and that was what counted most of all to her. "What will you do now, since you now have what you wanted?" he asked. Amy shrugged, as though it was the lightest thing to decide, "I guess I'll spend my life with you, Arn." She nodded toward the top of the rise, though it couldn't be seen through the wall of the house, "I know that there's something that you need to do up there. I have only one thing - other than the two people in my life back in Santa Fe to think of. If I could, what I'd like is to serve one school year as the headmistress of the school that's done so much for me. If I left them now, they'd be in a real fix. After that, I'd go whereever you want to go." She looked at him a little searchingly, "Or is time important for you?" He smiled and shrugged, "I do not think it is," he said, "but I know that there is one who we should ask." He set the remains of a drumstick that he'd been working on down and wiped his mouth with a cloth, "When we began this change for you, I watched you with such fear as well as fascination, seeing how this comes to another for the first time. Before I tied you to the posts, I knew that we were not alone. I looked up, and saw the silver haired one at the top of the hill." Stormfeather looked distant for a moment, remembering. "He has always been so calm, the times that we spoke together. Yet as you rolled over the ground in your pain, he looked upset, nervous and troubled, almost as though he wanted to come down here. When you threw your head back and howled for the first time, I heard him begin -- as though he wanted to join in and come here to you." He shrugged, "But he didn't. He saw me and thought better of it. I guess it would have been pure murder if he came. I snarled at him and he stayed where he was." Amy tilted her head, not understanding, "Where would the murder come into it?" He looked down, a little embarrassed, "You must try to see it from the view of a male. It is likely stupid, but it is there nonetheless. When we are like that, we can think -- most of us, I guess. We can feel, and we can even speak. But underneath, there is the wildness. Like that, I am a male. I hope that you can understand it, but even though you were in the change back and forth, I was there watching over you," he said, looking ashamed and remorseful. "At that instant, no matter what his intent, I was ready to kill for my female." He looked down instantly; ready to hear her harsh criticism of a very primal form of behavior on his part. But it never came. He heard it as she set her knife down and then her hand was on his. He looked up and she was smiling at him. "I understand you perfectly, Arn. Don't look so ashamed. You can't know how good it feels to hear you say that to me. Now that it's done, I can see it clearly. So what do we do now? I mean, about him? About what you were told?" Stormfeather looked thoughtful for a moment. "I think that we should go and speak with him. The moment of your struggle is past, so I want to see if these ones there in that place are all thinking and feeling ones or if they are just beasts who can talk." Stormfeather Ch. 09 -------------------- When they'd finished eating, he washed the dishes in some cold water and tossed in the vegetables with the rest of the bird in the pan before he covered it. Amy lit the fire and an oil lamp as well and the room grew brighter. Winky was lying still and watching something with interest. Stormfeather heard the click and sliding of nails on the floor behind him. When he turned around, his breath caught in his throat. Amy stood before the mirror looking at herself. She turned this way and that, a dark she-wolf with a slightly reddish tone to her fur. In the light there in the room, one had to really look to see it, but he'd seen her in broad daylight and he was certain that she'd stopped his heart for a moment. The red had been a little more pronounced then. It was mostly on her sides, her long mane had it too, but it was much darker there. Her lupine reflection smiled at him from the mirror. "I like me," she said. She twisted on those amazing long legs of hers and he watched her lovely tail follow the movement. The laugh which came to his ears sounded a little childlike in her joy, "Haha, Look! I've -- I've even got stripes!" She was correct. There on her sides were faint stripes, a little darker, as though they were extensions of her mane, though they weren't. They were just a pattern to break up her outline a little -- if it could be said that they had a purpose. She turned toward him and with two steps she was before him, taller now on her canine feet, and topped with her lovely ears as they stood up just as his own did. She didn't mean to cause it, but her tail drifted back and forth slowly a little as she put her arms around his neck to kiss him. "I know that you find me beautiful as a woman," she said a little seriously, "and I count it as my incredibly good fortune that you do. But inside me, I've never felt that way. I've always struggled a bit on my best days just to feel as though I might be a little bit pretty. I want you to know something," she said as she wiped a small but happy tear from her eye. "For the first time in my life, I now feel beautiful. I feel like that to me, Arn, and I can see in your eyes that you see me that way too." She hugged him tightly as she whispered into his ear, "Thank you for this. And thank you for wanting me. I know enough about all of this and mostly I know about you to know that it's not just all about mating." They stood holding each other for a long while -- long enough for Winky to get to her feet and walk to them, sniffing them both and walking past them once close enough to drag her side along their legs as though she was a very large and toothy --looking cat. It made them both laugh and Amy bent down to tousle the red wolf's ruff a little and kiss the top of her snout. "I'm glad that we've gained your acceptance, cutie." "Lets' get dressed, Arn. I want to wear the things that you made for me. If we're going to meet at least one of these others -- as you call them, then I want to be taken seriously." She nodded at him once, "I think -- well, I'm pretty sure that I could just go anywhere with you just as we are, but if there's someone there to impress, well I guess that I'd want us to not appear as another couple of wild ones wandering in if they have some expectations." -------------------- They began the walk up the rise as Amy tightened her gunbelt. "Why do you bring that?" Stormfeather asked. Amy shrugged, "It's like I said, I want to be taken seriously. I also want to make a statement, I guess. See, I don't know what we'll find there. I might be just another female there. We're a pair, Arn, and I'm your female, aren't I?" She drew her father's old Colt and inspected the cylinders for a moment before sliding it back into the holster to look at him. "I'll blow the balls off the first one who thinks that I'm available." Arn had no answer to it. All that he could do was grin and in a moment, they laughed a little at it. ------------------- Winky stayed with them the whole way, though she went ahead a little as they walked through the burial ground, staying well clear of the mounds and platforms which caused her to shy away. Amy had a sense that there were some sort of presences there and turned to Stormfeather. "Ghosts?" "Spirits," he nodded, "Most do not see us, though some do. None will bother us, and Winky will stay away from those who she can see or feel." They came within sight of the caves and Winky drew back from one, half-crouching in sudden alarm and beginning to snarl at what she sensed there and the motion that she saw inside. She turned and came cautiously back to stand between the others of her pack. Amy's hand rested on her head lightly to calm her. There were three of them, two females who stood leaning against the wall of the opening and the silver-haired male who took a place in front. "So there is truth to the prophesy at last," he smiled. The females looked at Stormfeather appreciatively, but appeared to be a little unconvinced at the same time. "Very nice to look at," the older of them nodded, "and no doubt interesting to lie with, but these are the ones whose coming was foretold for so long?" The younger female detached herself from the wall and walked over toward Amy, giving her a dismissive once-over, "A mildly strange-looking bitch that he's taken as well, if in truth this is him and if this is her." "If you look in the right way, Sheena," Stormfeather said with a growing smirk, "You can begin to see what this young one might look like as a human." Amy remembered his lessons to her. She tilted her head and grinned, "Uh-huh, and mildly strange-looking doesn't cover the homely bitch that I'm looking at, either." The female snarled and drew herself back to spring, but recoiled when Amy raised her hand. The barrel of the Colt hung there steadily in her face. "This won't kill you," she grinned, "but Jesus Murphy, is it ever gonna smart, and right now, I'd love to see you with a furrow right between your eyes." The male stepped forward, "This is not what was intended," he said, "We have watched and seen you in the time that you have been here," he said to Stormfeather, "and we know this one from when she was whelped in this very place. These ones here have doubts, that is all. We have waited many lifetimes for the ones. To have a pair of newcomers appear together leaves them with reservations and, ... uncertainties." Stormfeather looked at them coolly. "If the arrival of a pair of travelers causes these ones doubts so that all they can offer is scorn, then let them keep their uncertainties. We have no need to trouble you. I began far from here, made by one who said that all of us must come here -- and so I came. She told me that my coming was foretold in some tale. All of this means little to me." He frowned, "I do not know if we are the ones that this story tells of. But I know that I can get a better welcome almost anywhere that I go from men." He saw the remains of a small fire near the entrance behind them, long cold embers and ashes. Stormfeather raised his hand and the place was lit by a tiny sun that rose from his palm to hover above them all. The ones from the cave ducked and cringed. The ball hissed and the dead fire was lit and flaring behind them and it was joined by other blazes, mirror images of the first as the whole place was lit brightly. Winky looked around herself and leaned forward to sniff at the younger female. She jumped back when she was snarled at, but the female found herself lying on her back with a split lip. Amy hadn't used anything but the increased strength that she'd found in her anger. It might not have been the usual thing for a werewolf to do, but it sure felt good to throw a punch like that. The old one was astounded, "You- you are the ones! You are to help with the troubles, I-" "Go back to your cave," Stormfeather growled as they turned to go, "and learn to solve your own troubles." "Wait!" the older female called, "Please hear me!" Stormfeather laughed, "I have no wish to hear more insults. It would be better and quieter to seal the cave." He looked at the younger female who now stood glaring at them, "If harm comes to these ones with me, or to the horses, or anything else outside of this place, you will find yourselves with new troubles." "The others," the female said, "there are many who live in misery there," she pointed toward the cave, "you can help them!" She stepped closer very cautiously, "Please, my mate was killed." She pointed at the other female, "My daughter's male as well." She looked down for a moment, "I ask for your pardon, and perhaps a little mercy." She looked up again a little bit sadly as she shrugged, "Things like that, when they happen in your life, can cause one to become a bit bitter." Sheena looked from one to the other. "I can see that," she said, "but if you hang around waiting and hoping for a foretelling to happen, and then get nasty when somebody shows up for advice, ..." "Advice?" the younger one said, stepping over slowly, "I can offer you advice, new traveler. Stay away from the cave. I am sorry for what I said and did here when you came." She looked as though she was trying to fight off an emotion for a moment, but then it was gone as she spat out a bit of the blood from her lip as it healed. "My parents came here looking for the place for them. I was whelped right here -- just as you were, but I was born a traveler, and did not become one from a bite. I grew up there," she said pointing, "and I found a mate for me, but he was one of the chained ones, let free by mistake. We met and were together long enough for us to decide that we wanted to go our way together." Her eyes seemed to lose their focus as she looked away a little, "We wanted to leave the land where our kind is kept imprisoned. We wanted to go to the wild land, or even here to this land." She looked down, "But the men waited for us at the gate. My male was caught fighting to keep me free, ..." She looked to be faced with the emotion of her loss once more, but this time, it was clear that she was losing the fight as her eyes became clear again and her tears began. "They used him," she said quietly, "they bewitched him and they used him to lure me so that I'd give in and go to them. I watched him bound and driven before their horses every day as they searched for me. I ran, but he always pointed them right to me. He couldn't help it." She sobbed, "They promised me that if I came, then we could be together, but my male had already warned me that all of this would happen if he was caught. I knew that they lied, but I almost gave up." The female held her head in her hands and wept for a few minutes. When she'd regained some control of herself, she went on with her voice breaking piteously. "He hadn't been freed by mistake. He'd been freed so that he might find a mate, though he didn't know it at the time." A single sob escaped her, "They wanted females," she hissed, "they wanted girls to breed more slaves. He found his own voice and will as they whipped him out in the dust. They whipped him down as he told me to run and never return. I watched as a mage rode up, and when it was clear that I wouldn't go to them, the mage took the rest of my male's mind and he was less than an animal." She held her hand down toward Winky and the wolf stepped forward to sniff once more. Satisfied, she sat down and looked up calmly. "This one here has much more than they left my mate with," she said, "They turned and dragged him back with them. Two days later, I saw him speared on the spikes of their gates." She looked at the others there and then to Sheena. "I see that you love each other. It is plain to my eyes. I had a male for me only a few weeks before the trap was closed. I give you my advice, traveler. If you love each other, stay away. There is nothing for you here but agony." "Why do you tell this to us," Stormfeather asked, "Why did you wait for us to come?" "We are three voices," her mother said, "as was foretold. My daughter tells of despair. The old one here is the voice of desperate hope. He is furious now at my daughter, though he knew what she would say to you. He thinks for the betterment of the ones inside. He thinks in ideals and would beckon you in to help." "Which voice are you then?" Sheena asked. The female sighed, "I am the voice in the middle. I can speak of what is real, adding little to the emotion of it in either direction. The ones in chains need help, it is simple. The men there hold many and seek even more. This male found the gate here clear and open, and watching it for many years told him that it was unguarded as it once was long ago -- again, just as it was foretold that it would be. When he saw you," she nodded toward Stormfeather, "he came to tell us that the portended one had likely arrived, but without the other who was to accompany him. So we came. I lost my mate to the men, and every other one of my whelps. This one daughter is all that I have left." She looked at them with more than a little of her loathing showing through as she said, "I am not terribly old, but I am an old mother even so. I hate the men. I hate all humans for what they took from me. I dreamed and hoped for truth in what was portended, for nothing other than one of us to rise and kill them all. But I have never truly believed," she said, "I always have my suspicions. Since my mate was taken, I doubt everything and cannot help it. I wish that this was the truth of the prophecy, but I fear that the men leave this gate unwatched for a reason. I fear and believe in my heart that they wait for the ones whose coming was foretold, knowing that they would have great power and desiring it for themselves. This male wants you to come so that all are freed at last. My daughter wants nothing anymore, and warns you away." She sighed, "And I want you to come only if you are the promised ones, so that I might feel a little better if some of my hate is spent." Sheena looked at her own male and waited. Stormfeather nodded after a little thought. "I can make my own prophesy," he said, "Unless another pair comes who is what you think you wait for, I can foretell that you will wait almost a full year longer for us. There are things which must be prepared and other things which wait undone. We need to think if we want to help at all." "Why would you not want to help?" The male asked. "We are travelers," Stormfeather replied, "My mate has not traveled as one of us yet, and also, we need to think about what we might have in common with the ones in there. I regret to hear that some are kept as slaves, but it happens among humans too. We walk to your gate, and you tell us that we must come to help. I still need to know why -- if there is risk to us. I still need to know if we should risk what we have against the chance to lose for these many that I do not know or have a reason to want to help -- other than they are the same creatures as we are. You may not wish to be told, but it is the truth." The three nodded, though only the younger one of the females smiled a little to hear that her warning might be heeded at least for a while. They turned to go and as they walked to the cave, Stormfeather caused the fires to wink out until only the original one in the mouth of the cave still burned low. "Why don't you come out of there and travel?" Sheena asked, "You might meet someone." The female stopped after the older ones had gone in. "I do not know the ways of the humans, "she said, though I could learn, I guess. It is a thought. There is nothing here for me." She turned back for a moment. "You may not trust some or all of us, but, ..." She appeared to come to some sort of decision then. "Live," she said, "live and love each other. That way, if the end comes to you as a pair, at least the other can say that they had something for a time. Maybe it is not so bitter then. For your own sake," she said as she kicked dirt on the remains of the fire to put it out and, looking up, they saw her eyes glow softly in the darkness, "do not come here." Stormfeather Ch. 10 They walked down the hill back to the house in the dark and Amy looked at Stormfeather a little now and then. "What went on back there, exactly?" she asked, "Why aren't we going to help those others?" He walked a few steps in silence, but then she saw him turn to her for a moment. "In your life, Sheena, how many travelers have you seen before tonight?" "Well, "she said as they walked on, "counting you, exactly one." She could see him nod once. "No matter what was said tonight, in my long life," he said, "I have seen only a handful; the one that made me and one other -- and I killed him. When I came here, I met the male back there. Tonight, he was back with two others. They talked about the suffering of many, but I do not feel as though I am any sort of kin to them. It would be different if we were part of a tribe, maybe. What they told of has gone on for a long time," he said with a shrug, "If I think of it all in a way that each of them was telling some of the truth at least, then there is a risk to us to go there. I was told that all of us must go there, but I was never really told why we must. I do feel a little pull, but not much, and not enough to want to run in without thinking about it first. You said that you would like a year," he said. "I think that may be long enough to try to learn more and think. Nothing will change there in that time. I have been alone for so long. I want a little time to enjoy what we have first, and also, I want time for you to dream-walk. Maybe you can see more of this than what was said. What do you think?" Amy was silent for a little while. "Maybe it would feel different to me if I knew them, so I understand what you're saying, and if we were threatened, then I guess I'd feel a lot different about it. I don't feel any pull toward that cave at all." "I hear it from several voices now," he said, "from the one who made me, it had the sound of what had to be to come here, but I have never felt a strong pull. It was only something very small that was there. The old one sounds a little different to me now in his words. At first, he was as a helpful guide. This night, I heard some desperation." They walked onto the porch and went inside. Amy picked up the old kettle, swirling it around a little to see how much water there was left. Satisfied, she set it onto the stove and added a little wood. "There's something that really bothers me about everything," she said, "If it's so bad in there, the mother ought to just leave with her daughter. She used to be human, I think, so she'd know better how to live out here. If we're this rare and hard to find, why wait for the chance that somebody might come? I think I'd just want my daughter to get the hell out and have a chance at some kind of life -- even if it's just to travel." "I had the same thoughts," Arn said, "and more. How is it that the daughter -- who was born a traveler -- if she is to be believed, and then taken inside by her parents, can speak the same as you and I? Is this the speech of the ones inside? After so many years? The female who kept me from dying did not speak like this, though from what I think, she had never been to the place. We spoke together in the tongues of our different peoples to each other and had trouble often with the words. I learned other tongues from my travels, and I have been traveling a long time. How we speak now is different from what it once was -- a little, anyway." They sat sipping coffee, tossing the thoughts which came to them back and forth. No matter what or how they tried to look at it, there was so much which made no sense, huge gaps where their knowledge ended. "Let's go back to our first time in bed together," Amy said, "I didn't know what the hell was going on -- and really, I was overcome with it all. But you said after that you felt that it had to be -- and I felt that, too. Why would this all have been the way that it felt set out for us if what we find up there is like that? I can't understand that part." Arn nodded, "I feel that something is wrong. Think of it like this, as what you are now, you can harm and kill many humans, if it was what you wanted to do. How is it that those ones there live in fear of men? What is a mage?" "It's a word for a magician, or a sorcerer," Amy said. "It's a word from out of stories -- children's stories, mostly. It means a human man who can work magic. The younger one seemed to use the word in a bit of fear, from the way that I felt as she told her story." He thought about it for a minute. "If that place has the same magic that I feel near the cave, then it might be." He looked at her for a moment, "Did you feel anything of it when we were there?" "I felt something," she nodded, "I don't know what it was, though." "I think it was a good sign," Arn smiled, reaching for her hand. Amy watched as she allowed him to lay her hand out palm-up and move her fingers. "Hold each finger where I leave it when I let go," he said, pulling one after another into place, "Empty your mind of any thoughts." She smirked, "You mean like the ones I'm having now wondering what's suddenly gotten into you?" She watched his eyes look up into hers for a moment. "Yes," he smiled, "those ones." When he was satisfied, he sat back. "Is your mind empty now?" "It never is," she smiled, "but I'm not having the usual thoughts about dragging you off to bed for the moment. I guess you could say that it's quiet in my head for now. What are you doing?" "That is already one thought too many. Stop thinking." She nodded and sat still. Arn made a motion and she saw a tiny little pearl of dim light in his hand. He brought the tips of all of his own fingers together and moved one of her fingertips a little away from the others before turning his hand over to place his fingers onto hers. The pearl oozed from between his fingertips onto her palm in a long and shimmering string. "Do nothing for the moment," he said, looking intently at it. When the last bit had passed to her, he removed his hand and pushed her fingertip to close the cage that he'd made of her hand. "It lies there in the hollow of your hand," he said, "Think that you would like it to be a little warm, and then try to make it grow -" Amy's fingertips found themselves being forced apart as Arn reached forward to hold them together. "A little," he said. The ball disappeared. "It's gone," she said. He shook his head, "No, it is still there, only smaller. Make it a little bigger." The little sphere appeared again as it quickly grew to stop a little larger than it had been at first. "What is it?" Amy said, not daring to take her eyes from it. "A bit of the magic here in another form," he smiled, "Like this, it can be made to do almost anything with your will." Amy laughed a little as she caused it to grow and shrink for a moment. She lifted her hand and found that it behaved as a viscous fluid to some extent, but that it couldn't be made to separate into droplets. She opened her fingers and tried to prod it, but found that it couldn't be divided and flowed back to itself. He anticipated her question, "It is the amount that I chose for this. It cannot be pulled apart. If you knew more -- and you will -- there is enough here in your hand to destroy the ridge. Feel it as you play with it. You can make it as large as the house, or so small that it cannot be seen, but it is still the same amount that I chose. Feel inside of it with your mind." "I don't understand," Amy said, "How is it that I've never been able to do anything like this before?" "Have you ever tried?" He asked with a smile. "Well no," she said, "but is this because of what I am now?" He shook his head, "Because of something else. This is rare, and has little to do with our kind. Among humans, it happens more often with females. There is another reason that you can do this. It is only easier here and would be a little harder in another place. Think." Amy puzzled as she played with the pearl for a moment. "I still don't get it," she shrugged carefully. "Who are you tied to? Who bit you?" he asked. Amy grinned, "Thank you then." He smiled, "You might have been able to do this before, I do not know. But I think it helps that we love each other." He sat back, watching for several minutes, until he passed his hand over hers and the substance disappeared. Amy looked up, feeling that it was gone this time. "But I liked it," she said. "Make your own, then," he smiled, "Call it to you, but choose how much, and only a little," he said as he moved her fingertips in a pattern. After several tries, she had the motions. "Quickly and as close to one thought as you can," he suggested. Over twenty-odd tries later, Amy had a small dot in her hand again. Arn told her that this was the basis for everything else, whether large or small, hot or cold, fire or lightning -- and if she wished for it to be able to act on the reality around her or to be only an illusion. As he spoke, he saw her apply the qualities as he mentioned them, and he was surprised at how quickly she could think her thoughts into reality with it. He watched little pearly animal replicas appear in her hand as well, a tiny kitten with molten fur, or a little steer for only a second. "It must be returned always or the debt comes from you. I knew it was in you. You can use it to show or become your desires and -- " He stopped, staring at the fairly crude, but life-sized approximation of his own penis which suddenly appeared lying rigidly across her hand, solid and real in all respects. "Send it back," he laughed, "let it go. You know how and I have seen that you have ability." "Sorry," she grinned, "I couldn't help the thought." "Practice more at another time," he said, standing up to take her now-empty hand. She got to her feet, laughing a little as she followed him to bed, "Well you said that it was in me and the next thing I knew, there it was in my hand and -" "I know," he interrupted, "I have no wish to see what you might get out of it. Come." "Well that's what I was thinking," she giggled. ----------------------- She opened her eyes and looked down at the horizon not far off in the dim light of the banked fire in the hearth downstairs. Amy could hear her heart as it pounded, though each beat was just a little softer than the last as her breathing settled. The fire snapped now and then as a coal popped quietly. Her sense of hearing shifted around the room, settling for a moment on the rhythmic exhalations of Winky lying not far off. Beyond the nearest horizon of her own body, she saw another one, made by the outline of his head and ears and beyond that, there was one more comprised of his shoulders. There were more horizons out even farther away, but they didn't hold her gaze as her eyes narrowed a little on what she could see of his face. She heard his breath as he let it out and the warm air came to her as a thrill just before his tongue slipped out to lick her slowly one last time, just because he couldn't help doing it for the way that it caused her to inhale. She watched his eyes open to look at her in the darkness. He didn't move and neither did she as she marveled at so many things, the newness of her fur, for one thing. They looked at each other for a few moments, and then she saw those eyes rise higher over the horizon of her body as he began to lift himself slowly to crawl up higher. With his departure, she felt the slight loss of the warmth of his presence from where he'd been and the air on the mixture of his semen and his saliva along with her own wetness brought her a slight and very delicious little thrill. When his head rested on the pillow beside hers, she rolled onto her side and she reached for him to kiss him softly as she tasted herself on his lips. "Is that your answer, Arn?" she sighed as she ran her hands over his ears. "Yes," he whispered and nodded with a little motion, "my answer is yes." Amy smiled and thanked him as she pulled his head to her breast and brought her leg up over his waist. When she pulled him closer, he pulled her to him as well and they made the small adjustments that each of them would need to be able to sleep. Amy woke up once a couple of hours before the dawn. She found herself on her back with his arm over her and his hand on her hip. If it weren't for one thing, she knew she'd likely roll toward him again and fall back asleep. But that one thing settled her chin on Amy's fur-covered abdomen as gently as she could. Amy opened her eyes and lifted her head just a little to see the pair of eyes looking back at her. Amy smirked for a moment and she heard the slow swish of a tail on the bed as a hopeful response. Amy brought her hand up to rest on Winky's head as she eased her own head back down on the pillow and closed her eyes again. A girl could do far worse than have a pair of warm furry bodies against her on a cold night, she thought, though it wasn't cold at all where they were. Her visions had told her that there would be a few cold nights in their future. Winky really wanted to jump and prance from the way that she felt the acceptance of her new pack. It had felt like a huge risk for her to climb up onto the bed as carefully and slowly as she could, but she wanted to be with them tonight. But wolves know that there is a time for everything, and this was the time to be quiet and enjoy her sense of belonging. She'd prance and play in the morning. For now, she heaved a long quiet groan and closed her eyes. Amy smiled and pet Winky's head for a moment. --------------------------- The next time that Amy awoke, it was because Winky had raised her head, growled low in her throat, and jumped off the bed to run downstairs and growl by the door. Amy got up and walked to the window, wondering what was going on, since the sun hadn't really risen yet. She heard quiet voices coming from the direction of the rise, and after a moment, she saw the pair of females from the previous evening as they came into view. Though both seemed agitated, it looked to her as though the mother was telling the younger one what to do, and was having some trouble doing it. Amy heard Arn stir and sit up behind her. "The mother and daughter pair that we met last night," she said. She went downstairs and opened the door. Winky stopped growling and stood there beside Amy sniffing. What Amy noticed was that the two werewolves weren't very superior in their demeanor this morning. "Come to borrow a cup of flour?" Amy asked as she leaned against the doorframe, doing her best to offer a small smile. The younger one looked to have no idea about the remark, but the mother shook her head. "If you have the time," she said, "I wish to speak with you." Arn said good morning as he brushed past on his way to fill the kettle with water. Amy had about a half-dozen catty lines waiting on her tongue, but thought better of it, seeing that they seemed to be a bit upset, mostly with each other. As they stepped inside, the older one looked around. "It looks almost the same," she remarked. "The same as what?" Amy asked. "The same as the day that I last saw it," the female said, "before your family came. My husband sold it to them. He built it with his brother, before the brother died. There are more buildings now, but the house is the same." Amy stared as Arn came in to put the kettle on the woodstove. He stirred the ashes, but there were no live coals anymore, so he began to build the fire. "I thought that my father built this," Amy said, "though I never asked him about it, I guess. I just assumed it." "No," the other said, shaking her head, "There was nothing here when I came." "How long ago was that?"Arn asked, looking over. "Not thirty years," she said, "Perhaps I should explain. It is a long story, but I can tell it quickly." The pair stared as Arn moved his hand and a flame grew there in his palm for a moment before it flew into the stove and the fire caught an instant later. The two looked at each other for a moment, and the mother began. "My name is Elsbeth," she said. I was born in Schleswig in the year 1721, and I was bitten in 1744. It was a part of Denmark then. I lived there until 1810 when I came here with my husband at the time." The younger female gaped at her mother, who only smirked at her, "Oh come on, Marie. I am a female. How was I to live otherwise? I had a choice of running in the forest or finding a man. I have done both, but it is better to have a male of some kind to hold at night. I found no males like me there, but I have had a few husbands by posing as a human woman. I had to. It's not difficult, but I found that I had no safe way to bite them if they wanted that. Most go mad and are killed soon after. You can have a good life for a few years if you can control yourself and not bite them until they clamor for you to give them sons. It usually falls apart then. I left to journey here and met an American army officer. We came west for his posting, but he was killed. I wandered and came here because I felt drawn to it. When I got here, I met two brothers who were beginning a farm. It didn't take long before Marie's father and I fell in love. I never hid what I was from them, but suddenly, the brother began to think that I was some demon and tried to kill me whenever he could, so I stayed near to the one I was in love with. But you cannot do that all of the time, and it came to a fight between the brothers. My man would have lost, so I helped him and we buried the brother. Not long after, my man asked me to bite him and I agreed if he would let me tie him to a tree until the change was past. We lived here for a year and found that we could keep no animals, and you need a horse or two even if you only plant beans. So we found the caves and decided to go there because we'd spoken to the same old fool that you did," she said looking at Arn. "My man was taken during our third year there and I was left to raise four whelps alone. One of them didn't live to see his twelfth birthday in freedom." Arn made them coffee and offered it to them all. Marie didn't like it much, but Elsbeth smiled and thanked him. "Why are you here this morning?" Amy asked. "Things are a little different today and I can speak plainly and not have to pretend that I want you to go into the cave for the others," Elsbeth said. "For a long time, I listened to the old one now and again," she said, "but I never let him see where I lived, and I moved my den often. Listening to him a few days ago, he told us of you, but there was something in how he said it. I have always thought that he was too eager to get help for the chained ones, but I have never trusted anyone since I had to go on alone. Something bothered me. Those who listened to him never return. That is how I lost my mate, so I never trusted him, but I could not say why. I just didn't. He came to find us so that there would be three voices when you both came, but he didn't see us as I watched him with a few others hidden in the grass. Before he came to meet us, he spoke to a man! One of the same ones who keep our kind chained! The man was a watcher, one of the ones who control the minds of the chained ones. They spoke together in an Old Norse tongue, though I did not understand it all. I only heard him tell of you -- that he was sure that you would come soon. The watcher was pleased. The men there are not the same as they are here. They are larger, like small giants. We had a word for it in the old stories where I was born. We called them jotnar, though they were just in the stories and sagas that I heard at my grandfather's knee as a child. I never thought I would ever see one like that until I came here." Stormfeather Ch. 10 Elsbeth's face turned to a scowl, "So the old one worked for them. He was to lure travelers inside, but not anymore. We killed him last night after we left you. He will not talk any others into going to their deaths." "How did you kill him," Amy asked, "if we heal ourselves?" The younger one of them smirked, "Angry ones who have lost their mates and parents to watchers can do a lot of damage in only a little time, and there were seven who waited for us to come back after speaking with you. We tore him apart, and once you reach the heart and remove it -- keep it from the rest of the, ... pieces, there is no way to heal from that anymore. The heart, we took into the other passage, out into the wild land. We tore it into pieces and left it scattered there for the scavengers." Elsbeth looked at Amy and Arn. "We know that you are different from other ones of our kind. You spoke of sealing the cave. Can you do this? Can you keep the watchers inside?" "Do they ever come here?" Amy asked in a little shock. "I do not know," Elsbeth replied, "I have never seen them do this, but, -"she shrugged. Stormfeather wasn't sure what to say at that point. He was about to tell them that he'd see if it was possible, but Elsbeth spoke again. "If you have a price, I know where the gold that this one's father paid my man for the land is buried. My daughter is upset over what I have told her and she will be even angrier now, but, ..." She looked at them and tried to choose her words carefully. "I will go into the wild land and try to live, but first, I want Marie to have a chance at a life. I want to teach her how to live here if I could, but that would take a little time. If the gold is not enough, ... " She looked down for a moment. "Please, ... try to understand," she said, "I see that you love each other. I mean you no insult," she said to Amy, "but if you would have another female, ... you could have us both while I teach her. Only please, seal the gate." Arn was about to interject, but Amy was just as careful in how she chose the words of her polite refusal. "We understand you, and we also mean no insult, but I'm not crazy about that idea, though I guess a pack of us stands a better chance at survival, "she said, "Can you see this from my side?" They both nodded and Amy smiled, glancing once past them to see Stormfeather shake his head with wide eyes, "Then please understand that it is not possible. We are paired." She leaned forward to Marie, "And also, I want to apologize for my remark last night." Marie smiled a little, "I understand." "Elsbeth," Arn began, "have you ever been in the wild land for very long?" She nodded, "We went there first. You can live there, and the men are the same as they are here, though more simple. Life is very hard there because it is wild." "Is it very large?" She nodded, "I have never traveled very far there, but is goes on and on." "Are there other ways in to where these large men live?" Arn asked. "I know of two others," Elsbeth replied, "though only one is a cave. The other is by a pool. I am sure there are more. Why?" "Nothing yet," Arn said, "I was thinking that it would be better to find another way in if one wanted to go there." "They are all watched," she said, "to keep beasts from wandering in." "Why aren't they closed off, then?" Amy asked. "I do not know," Elsbeth said, "I don't know if they can be." Amy looked at Arn, "Can we help them?" -------------------- Inside the cave, they stood close to the opening to the other side. What Arn and Amy saw were mostly grasslands, though there were mountains and forests visible as well. Winky stared and was about to walk forward, but Amy moved her rifle to her other hand and put her free hand on Winky's shoulder. "No, Winky," she said to the upturned face, "not this time, honey." "Do not go through, "Elsbeth said, "if a watcher sees you, he will bewitch your mind and you are lost." Arn nodded and he stood looking intently at the rock walls. He waved the others back, and in a moment, the sides had joined together. The others stared as he produced some of the pearlish substance which Amy recognized. With a thought, it left his hand to flow into the seam which disappeared. He looked at them, "An illusion, "he said, "a very hard illusion. The seam is real and ties it together if one tries to break it. It grows harder then. From the other side, it should look like a solid rock face." When he repeated the process at the other entrance to the wild land, Elsbeth objected. "How will I get inside after I teach Marie?" "I will open it for you in some time," he said, "A year or so. There are wolves there which I do not wish to see on this side again. They belong in there now." As they walked out of the mouth of the cave, Amy stopped and held out her arms to keep the rest back. She changed her shape and became a nude woman with a rifle in her hand. Marie was about to ask, but they all noted Amy's posture and tensed. Arn sank to his knees and held his hand against Winky's chest, since she hadn't seen what Amy had spotted yet. Amy turned her head back slowly to look at them, "Shh." She sank down to one knee slowly and brought her rifle up to her cheek, working the loading lever as slowly as she could. There was a long pause, and then the Winchester roared. Marie almost jumped out of her skin and Elsbeth started a little as well. Amy jumped up and worked the lever for a follow-up shot, but it wasn't needed. "There's dinner, "she smiled as she trotted off. Arn let Winky go and walked out after them. When they caught up to her, Amy stood beside a good-sized doe, waiting to be certain that it was dead and not about to suffer. "I didn't want to shoot until I could be sure that she wasn't in the burial grounds here. But she stepped away and walked a few steps before she turned." Marie looked at her strangely. "I don't know how it is done here, "she said, "Since you killed it, I think that we must wait for you to eat your fill before we are allowed any?" Amy shook her head, "No, right here is where the work starts. If I was alone, I'd butcher it roughly a little right here and drag it out, but there's four of us, so I could quarter it here, or, ..." "I will carry it," Arn smiled. "But when is it to be eaten?" Marie asked, a little confused. Elsbeth put her hand on Marie's shoulder, "One if the reasons that I wanted to be here with you is so that you can learn these things, Marie. We never have the time or the safety where we have lived. It is done a little better here." "You'll get as much as you want, Marie," Amy smiled as she knelt and drew her knife, "But it's a lot better with vegetables and potatoes when it's been cooked, and we save what we don't eat. The whole thing will be hung in a cool place. There's enough for a few days here, so just hang on to your hunger for a while and get down here with me and pull where and when I tell you and I promise you a feast." While they worked, Amy had a thought and began to work it through as she answered Marie's many questions. One of them was also in Arn's mind as well. "I changed because I suddenly realized that my hands are different from how they were, and I didn't know if I could work the trigger at all," she said, "It's something that I'll have to try later. I didn't want to try it right then and miss the chance to eat tonight." She cut some of the meat from the doe's neck and offered it to Winky, who caught it and sank to the ground gratefully. As they walked back to the house with the gutted carcass over Arn's shoulders, Amy told them of her idea. ---------------- Marie watched as Arn hung and butchered the doe. As he worked, Amy took the pieces into the cellar. "Why all of this work," she asked, "when we could have just eaten our fill where it was killed?" "It is wasteful," Arn replied, "No matter how much you can eat, there is always some that is left, and to come back to the place later, you have to drive off whatever has found what you have killed. This way, you have clean meat over some days if you keep it cool." He stopped and looked at Marie, "I think that you have lived a harder life than was needed, if you have always had to look over your shoulder to stay out of the sight of these watchers. You must have only eaten what you could and then left the kill for other creatures, fearing that watchers would find the kill and wait close by." Marie was a little surprised that he was that cognizant, but she nodded, "I only eat what I can carry," she said, patting her stomach. "Too wasteful, "Arn said as he turned back to his task, "and not really a pleasant way to live." Marie watched him for a while longer and turned to find Amy looking at her. Marie gestured with her chin and they walked off a little. "I see a little of your thoughts, Sheena," she said," I was only looking, not planning. He is the only male here, so it is a little hard not to admire him. Looking at him was making me think about things. I miss the one that I had for me very much. I was getting better, but now, seeing Arn made me hurt a little again." She smiled a little, "Before you take a mate, you have only a strange hollow want for one. Once you find one and you lose your hearts to each other, it is such joy. When he is gone, you want to die as well. I thought that I could just go back to being alone, but, ..." "I think I can understand you, Marie," Amy said, "I'm still trying to get used to having him in the first place. Now I'm a traveler, and that makes it all so different -- as much as it's the same thing. But I also know what we all are now, so I know that you'll feel some want for him sooner or later. I'm trying to be friendly and understanding here." Marie nodded, "I know. We both know that this can only last for a time before my want gets strong." "We'll be gone before then, Marie," Amy said, "Otherwise, I'll have to either share him, or, ..." Marie sighed, "I don't want it to happen." "I'm not sure that it has to," Amy said, "I think that he and I just have to be gone when your heat comes. That's the worst part of it if I understand it." "It is," Marie said, "I see how you are trying to help. I wish that we had met another way -- and I wish that there was another male here all the same." They looked as Arn carried off the last of the cuts of meat. "Do we have a bit of time now in this strange process?" Marie asked. Amy nodded, "I guess so. Why?" Marie smiled a little, "Come on then, pour some of that black coffee drink into me and let's daydream for a while," she said as she put her arm around Amy to go to the house, "If there was only another male here, we could be a proper pack, couldn't we?" She laughed a little, "And then, you and I could sit and watch them fight a little to see which one will lead. From what I see, your male would likely win. I've never seen a male like him." Amy looked over with the beginnings of a curious smile, "And then what?" Marie leaned in a little close in a conspiratorial way and giggled, "Then," she said smiling, "you and I would have to pretend a little and snarl at each other, and then scuffle a bit for our own position." She laughed again, "But it doesn't matter all that much to me, as long as the other one is a little nice to look at and hold onto. I see how you play with magical things to learn something that I cannot ever do, so all of it is just a show and we both get what we want in the end anyway." They walked into the kitchen and Amy found the pot full and hot. She poured them each a cup, "I get it in a few places," she grinned, "not just the end." Marie grinned back as she took the mug carefully and sipped just a little. She sat down and sighed, "Males are wonderful creatures," she nodded, "they drive you a bit crazy when you want one, and then when you have him, he drives you crazier--if he's any good." She paused looking into her mug with a soft smile at a passing memory. Amy leaned forward, "And then?" "And then, the madness eases just a little when they hold you tightly and you both feel safe together and nothing could be wrong with the world then," she sighed. Amy watched Marie's eyes look over the rim of the cup as she took another sip. The eyes turned playful then as she lowered the tin mug. "But it all begins again the next day because you want him again and again!" She shook her head with a grin, "They're the strangest, most exceptional, maddening creatures. You get hungry and know that you ought to hunt. You get thirsty and know that you need a drink. But there he is, right there, that wonderful warm thing in your den. He wakes up and looks at you, that part of him swells in desire for you right before your eyes and it's just hopeless!" They laughed together until Arn walked past the porch, looking at them a little curiously. "Nothing!" Amy smiled angelically, and the two burst into giggles after he was past. "And all of that BEFORE your heat," Marie said, rolling her eyes. "Is it really bad then?" Amy asked. "You will know it will be soon when you are hungrier and you want to eat more. It is that way to prepare us for what comes. He will sense it and do the same just before. He will want to lick you endlessly a day or two before it starts and you will need that then, Sheena. When it starts, the best thing is to keep your male near to you." She smirked and chuckled, "He will never be far from you then anyway. Nothing will be able to tear him from you, and anything which tries will die for it. If you cannot have what you need then for any reason, you will be murderous. It is best to just stay in your den and fuck. Talk of it before with him and decide if this is the time that you want whelps. If not, he will have to pull out before - if he can, and it can still happen anyway. If you choose this, then you must help him with his release often, or he will just fill you anyway in his lust. "I make it sound terrible, but really it is a wondrous thing to have each other like that in your love," she smiled. The humor faded a little as Marie put her hand on Amy's arm, "You must be gone before any of us come into our heat. If we are not a pack -- if it is not decided by then, ... I have no wish to fight you, Sheena, and even worse over your male if I cannot have him. I know that you are stronger than I am -- I can tell, but that is now -- here, drinking coffee with the one that I wish for a friend. I will likely not have much sense then." She looked up at the sky as a thought came to her, "And if my mother comes into her heat, ... she is worse than I am." She looked at Amy in a suddenly determined way. "I need to find out more about this place, what lies around here. I will leave before I start, once I feel it begin." "We will both leave, Marie," Elsbeth said as she came down the stairs, "These ones are kind to us. I would sooner take a passing dog on the road out there than to act like that to this pair." Elsbeth looked at her daughter's wide eyes and smirked, "A figure of speech," she said, rolling her eyes. ------------------- Amy sat with them for a time and listened as they all commiserated over their nature and what was wrong with life beyond the caves. But the pair did agree that there might be a little hope for something better now. After a while, Amy got up and walked off to the stables where Arn was brushing his horse. He looked at her and smiled as she walked to him. "Just how wild are you?" she asked him. His eyebrows rose, but before he could answer she was on him, pressing him backward so that he bumped into the stallion. She pulled him away toward her as she kissed him hard. When he began to respond, Amy kissed and licked her way down the muscled and ridged landscape that was her male. She settled onto her knees and leaned forward to meet his maleness as it rose for her and she began to caress him, lifting it up and away so that she could get to his scrotum. She kissed it as wetly as she could, telling herself that this was hers to care for. Amy opened her mouth as wide as she could to take it in and she thrilled a little to hear his sudden deep gasp. What her tongue swirled over tightened now and again in reaction to what she was doing, and she felt his penis against her face and forehead, depending on how she loved him. She drew back after a few minutes of it and Arn thrilled to see her eyes look up at him this way for a moment. "Are you really mine, Arn?" The question confused him slightly, but he nodded, "Yes, why?" She took him in her hand and stroked gently as she spoke. "I just know what would happen from the female side if one of us comes into season, that's all. To hear them say it, there'll be blood and fighting over you. You're mine, so that means I'll have to, ..." He shook his head, "I can almost hear what was said, and there is truth to it, from what I was told by the princess in the forest where I come from. But unless I have not had a female in a long while," he smiled a little, "I think that I can keep my head in charge of me. You should try to give me some understanding. We are paired, and you are mine. You do not withhold yourself. Why would I want for another when my female takes all that I can give and is as happy for it as you are?" Amy opened her mouth to take him in, bobbing her head for a few strokes. She stopped and looked up again, "Don't you think that you'd like a little, ... variety now and then?" He shook his head, "There are likely some like that, but I am happy with the one who has chosen me. I can lose myself just looking at your body. If I touch you then, I am lost. How would you feel to have a choice of others?" She rolled her eyes, "I haven't learned about you yet, and believe me, I'm still smitten. I actually can't really imagine it. I suppose that it might happen -- that it's possible, I just can't see that. Not the way that I feel about you." She smiled and began again, loving the feel of him in her mouth. Every so often, she drew her head back a little and just used her tongue so that she could hear him groan, and then she was back, plunging her head onto him and back as she considered everything. She was trying to decide what she wanted from him now. The decision made, she stopped and let him out of the toothy cage where she held him to stand and hop backward to sit on a bale of hay. She leaned back and grinned at him as she spread her legs wide for him. "Then show me, honey," she smiled, "Show me what I mean to you. Right here, right now." "The barn doors are open," he said. "Good," she grinned as she pulled him to her, "If this business of having a male like you is about making statements, well that's alright with me. Let them look as much as they want, as long as I have you." ---------------- It was two days later when Amy rode into Portales alone. She was certain that this time, she drew a lot more attention than she normally would have, since she rode with her hat pulled down lower than usual and her outline was a little obscured by the poncho that she wore over her long coat. The day had dawned a looking a little unsettled and overcast with a lazy west wind that carried the scent of rain. About halfway to town, the wind had picked up and Amy watched the front of the rain come to her as she rode along. About a half hour later, the heavens had opened. By then, Amy had Ruby's oiled blanket on her and she'd pulled her long coat out of her saddle bag just in time to put it on. Thunder rolled all around her and lightning flickered and flashed, but under her hat, Amy smiled a little. She had a few reasons for it, and her mare's attitude was perhaps one of the largest of the contributing factors in an immediate sense. There had always been an aspect to Ruby's disposition that had been a bit puzzling. She was a fine mare and would be considered as a solid and trustworthy mount by any horseman or horsewoman, but there had always been a tiny bit of a predisposition toward skittishness to her. It didn't show itself often, but it was there. Stormfeather Ch. 10 Horses have personalities and their own set of likes and dislikes. Depending on the wind, or the way that the stars were laying in the heavens, Amy supposed, she knew that Ruby could decide to be a little nervous. A lot of horses can be this way. It was just something that Amy accepted about her friend, and she could usually get Ruby to work past or through whatever it was that made her this way. But it was different now. There was nothing that Amy could point to, other than how the two of them had worked their way around Ruby's fear of Amy over what she'd become. She was becoming more and more confident under Amy for some reason. It defied any measure of logic that Amy could think of with which to gauge this. As the miles passed, Ruby was more at ease now, not even minding the weather which would have been more than a little unsettling to her before. As they splashed slowly up the main street in the teeming rain, Amy could see people in the shops and stores from the corners of her eyes as they looked out to see who rode there in the downpour. In a place like Portales, a day like this could have a major impact on the commerce around town. It was a little unusual to have to take the risk of drowning while walking into account. But Amy didn't mind. She was pleased that Ruby seemed to be so confident now and there was an added benefit. Other than perhaps the hotels and the bars, there were not many other horses about on the street. It wouldn't have been anything to take into account before, but if one was now something which most horses could not stand to be near, well, ... Amy was thankful that Judge Blake's office had a large overhang out in front. She tied Ruby up and spoke to her in a low voice for a minute before she stepped onto the planks of the walk. She walked to a store and came out a few minutes later with a few parcels which she placed into one of her packs. A minute later, Amy was being welcomed by her old family friend and offered a bit of whiskey "to help with the dryin' out," of her. They exchanged pleasantries and talked together in a way that might have sounded a little less like the conversation that one might expect to hear between a young client and family friend than it did. To one who didn't know them, it might have sounded a little more like a talk between a young woman and a kindly uncle -- who happened to be a lawyer and a judge. At length however, they came to a point where old Judge Blake looked over the rim of his shot glass at Amy for a long moment before he wrapped his hand around it and sat back to look at her. "Married?" he repeated Amy's word as a question, "you're asking me to preside at a wedding then? This is a bit, ... " he looked out the window for a moment and then back at her, "precipitous, isn't it, my girl? There are things that you ought to be asking yourself," he said, setting his glass down to lean forward for a moment. "I know," she said, "I've asked myself all of them. I've even asked myself what my family would think if they were alive. But it all boils down to a few sets of circumstances and hard truths, Uncle Clayton." She sat back looking a little thoughtful and took a sip of her whiskey. "I'm all that's left, and I've done well for myself. In these times, for me to not marry would leave me being regarded as a spinster. Since I am going to be the headmistress of a school in Santa Fe, it looks a lot better to the regular folks if I'm a married woman. Parents of children see a married headmistress as one who can share some of their views and concerns a little more easily." "Well who's the lucky man and what is his name, then?" the judge smiled. "His name is Arn," she thought for a moment before continuing with a smile and a nod, "Arn Stormfeather." "Stormfeather," Clayton mused for a moment, thinking on how he ought to go here, "That sounds a little, ..." "He is, partly," Amy said, "He's also part Norse -- Swedish, particularly. I've known him for some weeks and I've decided that there's enough there for me to feel the way that I do." Clayton smiled, "And how is that, Amy?" She smiled her answer in just the right way to the judge, who was -- underneath the cold judiciary mantle that he wore too often to his way of thinking, an old Irish romantic at heart. "He makes me happy, Uncle Clayton, and I love him. He's a little different, but then I suppose that I'm not all that much of an ordinary sort of girl, am I? We get along really well, and he takes care of me when I need it and don't even know. I had some trouble with my horse there a few days ago when she took it into her head to be difficult about everything and play up like nobody's business. Well I can't have any of that, can I? It wouldn't do to have a horse that won't let me near her in her foolishness when I'm so far out of town, so I had to get her past it. She grinned, "Well I didn't even know it, but when I was finished and finally had her calmed down, I found that he'd made me a roast pheasant dinner with everything! He just went out and hunted up a brace of them and set to it. He said that he did it because he saw that I was busy with my horse. Anyway, I thought about what my folks and my brother would say, and I realized that my brother would want to kill him, likely, but that's coming from the way that my brother would think. My mother would forbid it, and my Pa would think about it for a minute and wish us the best," she shrugged. Clayton nodded, thinking that her estimation was probably right on the money. "It doesn't matter anyway," Amy said, "they're all dead, and I'm the one with the decisions to make. So I've made this one. Would you do it for us, Uncle Clayton? Would you marry us? We don't want more than a judge's ceremony or anything in town here, since for damn certain, some fool will get himself a bellyful of courage and think to try to put Arn in his place. Well it just couldn't end well, and I know it." "He's not a heathen, is he, this Arn?" the judge asked a little carefully. "He's a believer -- just the same as me," Amy said levelly. Judge Blake laughed a little as he poured them each another glass. Setting the bottle down, he pushed Amy's glass toward her and he lifted his own. "The very same as me then," he grinned, and he offered a toast to Amy's love and happiness as he took Amy's hand in his own with a twinkle in his eyes. "Here's to your coffins," he said, "May they be made of hundred-year-old oaks which we shall plant tomorrow. May you both live as long as you want, and never want as long as you live and may the best of your yesterdays be the worst of your tomorrows, my dear girl. You're like the daughter that I've always dreamed of and the daughter of the friend I'll never forget." He kissed her hand with a warm smile, "I can be there tomorrow," he said, "I'll find someone to sign as a witness beforehand." After talking about her plans for a few minutes, Amy got up to leave and rode off into the rain as the judge watched until she was out of his sight. When he could no longer see her, Judge Clayton Blake heaved a smiling sigh and looked out at the rain for a moment. He had no appointments for the day and doubted that anyone else would come to him in this mess, so he walked to get his overcoat and locked up the office. Out on the wooden walkway, he put his hat on his head, pulled up his collar, and stepped out from under the overhang into the rain to cross the street. A block farther, and he turned into an alcove and knocked on a door. After the eyes on the other side of the small glass pane had recognized him, the door opened and the judge found himself being warmly welcomed into the parlor of his favorite brothel. Miss Tara showed him her usual Southern charm. "I suppose that you're here to see your flame then?" she asked with a smile. He looked at the girls before him and chose the older redhead again with a smile and a nod. -------------------- The rain had eased off to a few sprinkles as the packages were put away on Amy's return. She led the pair of females upstairs and opened two wooden trunks. "This one has a few of my mother's things, Elsbeth, and Marie; you don't look too different in size from me. The right one had some of my clothes in it. Pa could never bring himself to throw out things like this. Change to something human-looking," she smiled, "and see what fits you." "But why?" Marie asked, "Can't I be taught as I am?" Elsbeth shook her head, "You are not seeing this in the right way, Marie," she said, "Amy said the neighbor has a son. I remember him from before, but the son was a baby when you were born. He sends his son to look in here. They will bring cattle here soon to graze. We will not bother them from this far away, but you might have a chance to meet a man." Marie rolled her eyes, "I don't want a man," she said, "I want a male of our kind." Amy grinned, "Well they're a bit scarce as far as I know, so you just might have to make your own. Don't get too snooty in your outlook either, Marie. I guess there are more natural born ones where you came from, but out here, all of us were born human." "But, ... your male, ..." Marie began. "Human," Amy grinned, "A long time ago and far away. And by the way," she smiled, looking at the naked willowy blonde in front of her now that Marie had changed, "I'm sure now that I've got some clothes that'll fit you and I'm even sorrier about what I said last night. You find some things to wear, and I'll help you turn into a girl that can snap any man's head around so fast that he'll have a crick in his neck for a week." Marie wasn't stupid. She was still a little bitter and sad that she'd lost her male, but the chance to live her long life with someone wasn't anything to sneeze at, just the same. She nodded at Amy with a little smile. "Thank you." "Is the son good to look at?" Elsbeth asked, "I remember that his father was a handsome man when we met him." "Yeah," Amy smiled, "He is. He was my brother's best friend. They joined the Confederate Army together, but Elijah came back afterward. He looks a lot like his father to me, just younger and he's obviously not a widower like his dad." Amy waited the single second that it took for Elsbeth's eyes to snap up from the trunk's contents to look at her. She laughed and nodded, "Almost five years now." She stepped over to a polished wardrobe and opened it. "I stopped in at the Samuel's farm on my way back, and I told him that you'd be living here, so there'll be no awkward surprises. You'll need to get the vegetable garden going again, Elsbeth. I bought all the seeds you'll need for that." Marie sat down on the bed. "I have to thank you for a lot of things, "she said, "but why are you doing this for us?" Amy shrugged, "I'm trying to make things better for you, I guess. Arn and I will be gone for a while. You need some time to learn to fit in, and this place can get lonely. I sure know it, since I grew up here. So you can learn what you need to, my home won't go to rot with nobody in it, and maybe, one or both of you might have a good time now and then." She put her hand on Marie's shoulder, "And just because you and I got off to a bad start, well, that doesn't mean that we can't be friends. We've made a good start at it." She looked at Elsbeth, "You might want to go into the wild land now, but I think this will be a place where you can make a change for the better. It might change your mind. There's just one problem that I can see. You can keep your gold, wherever it's buried," Amy said, "We don't need it, but you might. I just don't know how you'll be able to go to town to buy anything. You'll need a horse, and ones who aren't afraid of us are a little hard to find, I think. I got mine used to me, but I've had her for a while. Arn's horse loves him to death, since Arn was there when he was born, so he doesn't know any different. I mentioned it to Uncle Clayton in town without telling him the real reason, and I told him that you'd need something not skittish at all. I lied and said that there are wild animals who won't necessarily attack large livestock, but that horses often get nervous at just the scent in the area. He said that he'd try to come up with something. You can hunt as what we are, but you have to leave cattle alone and you have to be careful that you aren't seen -- not that there are a lot of people here, but still, ... I've got to think about it a little more. Anyway," Amy smiled, "You see if there's anything there that'll fit you and I'll go downstairs and make some coffee. I bought a little tea for you to try, Marie. Maybe you'll like that better." ----------------- Clayton looked up from the lush breasts before him and smiled at Katherine. She always looked so happy when he came to see her. He thought about it and then he asked. She grinned and hugged him tighter for a moment before she answered in the soft lilting tones that always lifted his heart, "It's because you're a handsome gentleman who seems to care about a poor old girl from County Galway and I can feel that you've still got a lot of the old country in you. When I've got you in my arms like this," she said truthfully, "I don't feel so much like a whore. I'm always feelin' like I was back home, and happy and that nothin' had ever gone wrong in my life." He lifted his head and pulled himself up to kiss her for a moment. "And what went wrong for you, then? I've always wanted to ask." "Well, the crops failed for a few years, and there was almost nothin' to eat, so my man and I signed on to come here. But there was no work and he signed on to serve in the army and he never came back. I was left alone, just another woman like many others who had nothin' and still needed to eat. I couldn't find work, so here I am." Katherine was still lovely in her early forties. To Clayton, however, she was beyond beautiful, and he told her often. She smiled and shook her head, "My time's comin' to an end," she said, "I've saved as much as I could against the day when no men come to ask for me. I've been lucky and never got sick. But I don't have enough to start my own place. I'm thankful for a lot of things, Clayton, and you're the best one, because you come to see me so often." He reached down over her belly and began to caress her again. He thought that she must surely be an angel, the way that she could breathe life into his old chest the way that she did. Meeting her on her first night working for Tara had turned him back into the romantic man that he'd always been. "I'm beginning to think that it's time that I did something about your waywardness, "he smiled warmly. "We seem to have something between us, Kathy dear, and to me, it goes past what we do here so often. There have been many times when I've wanted to take you to dinner." She chuckled, "But you do, Clayton. The other girls are jealous, the way that you take me out like I was a fine lady. That's what I mean." He smiled, "Well I meant that we'd go home together afterward. If it's all the same to you, I think I'll have a word with Miss Tara. Maybe I can find a way to convince her to settle up whatever your agreement is with her and you can go to dinner and dances with me as my wife instead." Katherine's eyes widened in surprise, "Do you mean that, Clayton? Please, don't joke about something like that to me." "I'm not joking," he said with a smile, "I've got my own parlor, my own whiskey, and my own bed, Kathy. I always come here to see you anyway, and you're always happy for it, and so am I. Why don't we make this permanent? You'll have no worries then. I have people who clean my place. I don't see why they can't wait on you as well. I'll just need to see the old priest, I guess. He's the only other one here who can marry us -- that is, if you're agreeable." "Oh, I'm agreeable, Clayton," she laughed as she reached for his penis again, "But shouldn't you think a minute here? I mean, you'd be marryin' a --" "A fine and lovely lady who has become my close friend over the last year," he smiled, "and one who tries not to tell me that she loves me because she wants to be careful not to, but I hear it anyway if I make her cry out just so. It comes out of her then whether she wants it to or not." Katherine had long gotten used to feeling little or nothing toward the men she serviced. But this one had managed to get past the walls that she'd built. She didn't know how he'd managed that, but she'd found herself with damp eyes almost every time that he left her to go back to his life. There was a small tear in her eye now and she brushed it away after a moment as she smiled. "It's true. I'm always feelin' that I'd want for nothing if I just had you for my own. I just never thought that you'd feel this way too. What brought this on?" "Well I do feel this way, and I have for a long while now," he said, "I was talking to the daughter of a dead friend of mine. He was never the kind of man not to seize a stroke of good fortune, and his girl's doing just that right now. After she left, I realized that it's a good day to ask for your hand, and don't you be thinkin' that you've a thing to feel ashamed over, my dear. There's few here who even know you, and any that do know enough to keep their tongues still, not that I care. I'd be proud to be your man." He pushed her onto her back gently and slid inside her. "We'll just keep your waywardness behind closed doors where we can enjoy it, Kathy. I love you, and that's the way of it. There's more to us than this, and it's high time that we started living it." Katherine wept with joy as she raised her legs to hold him tightly to her as they began again. He was the only one who'd ever brought these small tears to her when she'd lain with anyone. No man had ever been as sweet as Clayton when he made love with her - and that was exactly what they'd done together from the very first time. Being with him had always felt more like playing out a fantasy to her. She'd never dreamed that she had a chance to have a man who treated her so well. He'd always acted as though he loved her, so for her it was easy to pretend that she had a man like him to love. The next thing she knew, it was true. She was an old whore, and things like this just didn't happen for people like her.The hardest part was saying goodbye each time. It felt so good to her to finally say the words that she'd held back for so long. Stormfeather Ch. 11 Along with Elsbeth, Amy spent the evening and the next morning in preparation for Judge Blake's arrival. With the measurements that she'd taken, Arn had a decent shirt and a pair of pants which fit -- more or less - to begin with, but Elsbeth had proven to be a very handy and knowledgeable seamstress in her way, so Amy was pleased with how he looked. Elsbeth and Marie looked wonderful in the clothing that they'd chosen, and the kitchen smelled with the various aromas of the venison roast that Amy had prepared. What they didn't expect was the procession of the judge's arrival. Amy stared as they crested the ridge at the other end of the little plain in front of the house. The judge sat on the seat of a small, but sturdy farm wagon pulled by a pair of mules, and there was a buckboard behind that drawn by a horse and driven by a woman. "I don't know how we'll handle this," she said to the others, "but I'll have to tend to the animals as best I can, and I'm hoping that none of them lose their minds. The judge is an old family friend, and he's more like an uncle to me. I don't know who the lady is though, I've never seen her before." As it happened, the mules were of a very level temperament and other than looking a little askance at Elsbeth, who insisted that she could handle them, the only one who caused much of a fuss was the horse, who acted up a little, but was fine when left hitched and staked under a shade tree with some oats. Blake walked onto the porch, gratefully accepting the whiskey that Amy proffered to sit down beside Katherine and the others. He wiped his brow with his handkerchief before the coolness of the beverage registered. "There's ice in here," he smiled in surprise, "How in the world, ..." Katherine chuckled, holding up her own glass. "Pa put in an ice cabinet in the storm cellar," Amy smiled, "He used to just saw up blocks of ice from the stream in the winter and drag them down to keep in the cellar covered with sawdust. But every year he could never tell if it would freeze enough to get much more than sheets. Once he saw how the ice cabinet had been made, Pa turned almost half of the storm cellar into a cabinet. It's a lot of work, but, he'd just go up to the pool and he could get better chunks there. He'd walk them down slowly once a week or so on a toboggan that he'd more or less guide and steer from behind until he was at the bottom, and then he'd just pull it to the cellar, break it up, and fill the spaces that he'd built for it. It took some time every week, but then he said that he always had a lot of that in the winter. There's still about half of the ice left now, so we can hang meat and keep things like eggs for a lot longer." Clayton smiled as he raised the glass, "My old friend's dead and gone and he still surprises me." He raised his glass, "To Terry Monaghan," he said, "the finest man I ever knew. Wherever you are, my old friend, I'm sure they're learning about your talents, and likely, you're making a good profit at it as well." He turned to regard Arn for a moment, but it didn't take much more than that to make him nod and smile. "Not that it matters at all, Mr. Stormfeather," he said, "but I've already decided that I like you. Where are you from, and how did you come to be here?" He winked, "I don't need the whole tale, my young friend, Just enough to hold my interest while I enjoy Terry's whiskey." "That's my whiskey, Uncle Clayton," Amy grinned, "I drank the last of Pa's myself after we buried him." "It's close enough," the judge grinned, "It tastes just as fine as I remember his tasting." "I come from far to the north and east," Arn said, "and traveled south and west. I have been through the United States, Mexico, all the way down to Peru and back north until I came here." Anticipating Clayton's next question, Arn smiled, "I wanted to see some of the world, but I didn't have the gold for passage on any ship, so I went where I could walk. It took a long time." "Arn can speak many languages, Uncle Clayton, and he can track and hunt. I was thinking of asking him to help with some of the children that we get at the school sometimes for a little while. He can speak Spanish and many of the Indian dialects." She laughed a little, "I need to keep him busy after we get to Santa Fe." The meal went well and the introductions made, along with the cover story that Amy had made Marie and Elsbeth rehearse the evening before. Katherine was a very attractive and friendly woman, and it was obvious to Amy that the pair loved each other. "It's a shame that you have to go back so soon. If you could stay a little while longer," Clayton smiled, "maybe you could be guests at another wedding." The ceremony went well afterwards and they shared a few toasts over the bottle that Amy had gotten along with everything else the previous day and Clayton repeated his toast, along with about every other one that he could remember. But as they prepared to depart, he pulled Amy aside for a few moments. "I didn't want to cast a pall over your wedding day, Amy," he said as he held out an opened telegram envelope to her. "I know that you'll be heading back tomorrow as you told me yesterday. But this came to me this morning just before we left to come here. It was addressed to me, but it's for you from a Miss Sanchez. I hope that I've done the right thing in waiting to give you this." Amy pulled the telegram out and read it. She looked up, "Don't worry, Uncle Clayton. You've done the right thing. With the distance involved, there's no help for it, is there? We'll leave in the morning as planned and I can only hope that Aunt Maeve is alright when we get there, that's all." She put her arms around Clayton's neck and kissed his cheek. "Thank you so much for everything that you've done for me. The wagon and the mules are perfect. I'm sure that Elsbeth will have no trouble." He smiled, "I'm only returning a favour, my girl. Your father gave me a wagon years ago when he met me at the train station, an Eastern lawyer with a ton of books and cabinets and no way to haul them. I was just too cheap to buy something more in keeping with the style of a member of the bench that I've become because of his advice and encouragement. The mules, I picked out myself from a bunch that the army was selling off. They're not too old, but you said that you wanted to find something calm in a draft animal for Elsbeth's use. These are army mules Amy, and if they haven't seen it before -- whatever it might be, then it doesn't exist or it doesn't matter anyway from their point of view. They were born bored. I had to buy three to get a good price, but I know that I can likely sell the third one off in a week or so, after the army muleskinners leave town. I've brought you some hay bales as you see, and I'll stop in at Pat Samuel's place on the way by to ask him to drop off more in about a week's time." He turned to Arn and offered his hand again, "I only know a little about you, Arn, but I've already seen enough to know that you're a good man for Amy." Katherine's eyes smiled as she took Clayton's hand, "I think it's the quiet ones who can tell you what they mean in the loudest way, Amy." Amy smiled and blushed a little in spite of herself and the judge laughed as he continued, "Please take care of her. She means such a lot to me. I wish you both the very best and a long life of happiness together." Amy smiled, "Would you send a reply telegram -- that is, if the telegraph office is still open when you get back? You could always send it tomorrow." She took the judge's pencil to spell out the name of the recipient for him. "Most certainly, Amy," Clayton replied, "what should it say?" She smiled, "Address it right back to Ximena Sanchez, and tell her that Mrs. Amy Stormfeather will be home as fast as she can get there, but not to tell Maeve of my new name, and that there are lots of new sketches for her to approve." She smiled a little, "She'll know what it means." As they watched the buckboard drive away, they waved until it was over the crest of the ridge and gone. "What troubles you Sheena?" Arn asked. Amy sighed, "My great aunt Maeve. She's taken a stroke. Ximena says that she's getting better, but I'm worried, that's all. She's all that I have left now. Is there anything, ..." Arn smiled a little hopefully, "I do not know if there is anything that I can do for your great aunt yet, but we can get to Santa Fe a little quicker by another road -- it you trust me." The statement brought a smile back to Amy's face and she hugged him. "I don't think I'll be in much of a mood for a wedding night," she said, "but I always feel better when you hold me. Just give me a day to think things through and I'll be fine." Arn kissed her for a moment and nodded, "I have been having wedding nights with you since we started," he smiled. "I feel the same way, Arn," she smiled up at him, "You know I've felt like we belong together from the beginning." The rest of the evening left little time for much beyond some packing and preparations for the trip. The sun hadn't cleared the rise when Arn and his bride said their goodbyes the next morning. Arn was dressed as he'd been the previous day and Amy wore pants and a cotton shirt. Her rifles were in their scabbards next to her saddle and she had her holster tied to her thigh once more as they rode off with Winky trotting beside them. This trip was the first that she'd made where she didn't feel the need to hide her hair or her femininity in the least, and to her, it felt wonderful. They rode down to the road and headed west along it. "Why do we ride toward the town?" Arn asked. "As much as I don't like the idea all that much," Amy replied, "we need to get you a few more clothes and a pair of boots. After that, we can leave the road if you want." "My feet will hurt, I think," he said, more as a thought to himself. "Likely, "she admitted, "at least until they wear in." "The boots or my feet?" Arn smirked. "A little of both," she smiled, "I promise that you can take them off later." He looked down at Miss Winky, "You are lucky," he said quietly. Amy rolled her eyes, "Oh, stop it." Riding along Portales' main street, Amy saw a few people that she knew and nodded. Arn felt a little like something on display under their stares. She led them to one of the general stores and they tied up their horses. A sidelong glance as she took off her gloves told Amy that it had already begun, the slow drift of Portales' busybodies as they sidled off the boardwalk on the opposite side of the street. She looked down for a moment and smirked to herself, seeing who it was for the most part. Every town had people like this who didn't have enough to occupy them, she thought. Now the current generation was composed of girls that she'd gone to school with in her time. She shook her head a little, they were her own age, and still had nothing better to do than pretend that they were fine ladies as they strolled around the streets of a two-horse town spreading gossip. "You can't bring that wolf in here, Amy," the shopkeeper said as they walked in. Amy regarded the woman a little sadly, "Please, Mrs. Parker, you've got Sammy there with you every day. Winky's our pet. She'll behave." Amy turned to the red wolf and admonished her to "be good", and was a little surprised to see Winky sit regarding her and trying not to let the interesting smells around her get to her curiosity. "Well, since she's with you and she's so obedient," the woman smiled, "I guess she can stay if she behaves herself. What's her name?" "This is Miss Winky," Amy smiled scratching the animal's ear, "since she's always looking so prim -- if she wants to be seen that way, but we just call her Winky. My husband needs boots, a shirt, and a hat, and I want a little bread, some eggs and some sausages," Amy said, "I thought that we had the best chance to get everything here, Mrs Parker." Francine Parker had known Amy for most of her life, and could remember the first time that the red-headed little girl had chosen her store to walk toward when she'd come into town with her father and her brother. "I'm sorry to hear of your Pa's passing," she said, as she walked around a showcase of watches to step up to Arn. "It's a little hard to believe that you're all grown and quite a lady, from what I hear Judge Blake tell." She stepped past a shelf of bread and walked up to Arn. "Well," she said, "let's get a look at you, then," she smiled. Arn felt a little foolish, not understanding what was meant, but he smiled, and Francine nodded her approval, "Oh, nice eyes and a quick smile, Amy. He's a handsome devil." "Francine Parker, I'd like you to meet Arn Stormfeather. We were married yesterday. I've been coming to my favorite store here all my life, Arn." "That's true," the woman laughed, "though she doesn't buy as much candy these days as she used to." "I can see it, a little," Arn said, "she must have been a sweet little girl then." "Sometimes," Francine said, pulling out some boots and guessing his hat size, "Amy went through stages. She used to be such a pretty little thing, all dressed up by her mother, but that passed, and she became more of a lovely tomboy later on. Always did have a sweet tooth, though." Winky became a little jealous when Amy pet old Sammy for a moment, and when he got up to walk over to where she sat, she showed it with a low and quiet growl. Sammy kept his distance, turned away and went back to lie down where he'd been in the sunbeam that shone through the window onto his place on the floor. "Would you mind it if Arn tries the shirt on?" Amy asked, "We'll buy it if it fits him," she said. "I don't see why not, Amy," Francine said, "there's nobody here but Sammy and I. You go on ahead and we'll see if it fits you well, just let me measure you to be sure that we're in the right part of town for the size." She pulled her cloth measuring tape out of her apron pocket, nodded to Arn and he began to unbutton his shirt. "Please turn around, Arn," she said, "so I can measure your shoulder width." As he complied, he noticed a motion and looked toward the window of the shop, wondering what the women were doing out there, most of them Amy's age. Francine directed him to turn a little, and she measured his bicep. "So far, so good," she smiled. She pulled over a step stool so that she could pass the tape around his neck, staring at the scar there under his hair for a moment, but saying nothing. Satisfied, she pushed the stool away. Francine stood for a minute looking at his shoulders and then his waist, "You know, I'd normally have a bit of trouble fitting a man built like him. But I've got a pair of shirts that haven't sold in over a year. They don't fit men with shoulders like that, normally, without having a lot of 'growing space' down around their stomachs. Men that size usually are a lot, um, rounder lower down. But I've got two that just might, Amy. I couldn't sell them because there's not enough material around the waist for most, and with nothing much to let out, I was stuck with them. Let's try them, shall we? She walked away toward her dry goods shelves as several of the women from outside stepped into the store. Amy noticed the usual whispers behind upheld hands that she'd heard back in school. "I've stared at these shirts forever, wondering who would have arms like that, " Francine smiled as she unbuttoned the shirt for him. "I guess I've met him now," "Well, Amy Monaghan," a woman in a dark blue frilled dress began with a dismissive smile, "I see you still don't know how a woman dresses herself in civilized society. Still running around looking like a cowboy?" Amy didn't bother with a reply, and emboldened by the lack of response, a second woman decided to toss her two cents in, "Who's this, Amy? Can't even find company for yourself who can speak English?" Arn looked up as he was unbuttoning the shirt. His face was impassive, but they gaped at the cold blue stare anyway and the front three stepped back, looking at the faded tattoos and the thin scars over the solid musculature of him. "This is my husband," Amy said, "He can speak English quite well, Abigail, he just knows where and when to invest his time and his breath, unlike some. He also speaks Swedish, French, Spanish, some Italian, and more Indian languages than anyone I've ever met." Her gaze drifted to the first speaker, "Hello Cora," she said, "I have to admit that I'm waiting for your inevitable and usual snide comment about the company that I'm keeping, since you're so good at it behind my back. Why not break the pattern and tell me to my face for once?" Cora blushed furiously and looked extremely uncomfortable, "I have nothing to say." "Yet," Amy smirked, "though I'm sure that will change after we've left. It always comes out of you then, doesn't it? And I always hear about it afterward. Still waiting for a man who doesn't look like an unbaked loaf to show interest these days, or have you finally given up and tightened your hold on Ezra Parmington?" "My Ezra will be the assistant banker one day," Cora huffed. "Maybe," Amy said, "if the one there now dies and they don't hire another. He's a nice man, Cora. He doesn't deserve someone who can't keep her nose out of everybody else's troubles. I told him as much the last time that I was in to draw a draft, since he sure didn't look happy when I asked about you." She slapped Arn's ridged stomach once and smiled. "And as far as your as yet unspoken judgment goes, I can dance on this if I've a mind to, Cora." The rather pregnant woman in a green dress next to Cora took up the gauntlet, "Have you shot any more drunks in the saloons that you like to frequent?" Amy inspected how the shirt fit her husband. "You do know that you can be knocked DOWN just as easily, don't you? I don't exactly frequent any saloons, leastways not the way that you do." Amy's smile disappeared, though her voice held little malice. "I'd think that you'd want to keep your trap shut, Sue-Anne, since you were in the same saloon before I got there that day, and as I recall it, you weren't exactly fighting off anybody's hands then like I was - as drunk as you were. In case your memory of the day is a little fuzzy, you had the hands of two different men up your dress at the same time. I thought it was quite an achievement for you." She turned to find Francine doing her best to hide a grin as Sue-Anne departed in a huff, "Is the second shirt the same size?" "Oh yes," the shopkeeper said, "I'll give you a reduced price on both of them, Amy. I'm happy to find a man who they fit so well. I stopped ordering from that company after they sent me these shirts, but if Arn needs any more, you just let me know, and I'll order some in for him." "We're on our way to Santa Fe," Amy said, "I don't rightly know when we'll be back through here. It'll be a while, most likely, Mrs. Parker, but I really like the way that they look on him. If I include something to have more sent, I wouldn't mind ordering from you." Arn noticed that Cora had another thought on her tongue from her expression and as he tried on the hat, which fit perfectly and showed Francine Parker's skill as a shopkeeper, he made a slight motion with his other hand as he smiled at Cora. The woman's eyes took on an uncertain and worried look instantly. There was the sound of many little buttons falling to the floor a few at a time. Arn kept smiling pleasantly as Cora's petticoat and bloomers began to slide down her legs underneath her dress. It wasn't visible, but Amy noticed at that point and began to watch with an innocent expression on her face. "Something wrong, Cora?" The others turned to Cora as she tried to grasp everything through her dress to hold it up. Arn coughed quietly, masking a word, and to her horror, Cora felt her bloomers tugged out from under her grip leaving her immobile in her fine blue dress with her undergarments around her ankles underneath. Stormfeather Ch. 11 There was a moment of silence between Amy and Cora, whose eyes looked like saucers in her predicament. Amy said nothing, she only carried a friendly little smile on her face as Cora considered what to do. She gave it up and bent to pull everything up, and at that instant, the lacing which held her corset tied together broke. Cora stood up clutching the whole mess to hold it all up under her dress. "Whoa Cora," Amy grinned, "What happened? You look like you're coming apart there." Cora turned and did her best to run out of the store with a sob. The others stared after her and Arn tried on the boots as though nothing had happened which concerned him in the least. As they left a few minutes later, Arn found himself in the middle of the pack of females. He looked up from Winky in surprise and a couple of them almost jumped back, staring at him. "Please excuse us, "he smiled, "and please mind our little friend here. She is not used to so many people and it makes her nervous." Amy laid her hand on Winky's back to guide her away and nodded to a few by name. "Is that, - is that a wolf, Amy?" a brunette asked. Amy nodded, "Yes Becky. Don't try to pet her, she's quite wild." "My name is Rebeccah," the brunette scowled a little imperiously. "Whatever you say, Becky," Amy said, pleasantly. She purposely avoided being drawn into any more conversations and they placed their purchases into Arn's packs and mounted up. The women watched for a moment and then crowded back into the store. "Hello, Amy." The voice came from a slightly heavy young woman with dark hair and brown skin who blinked up at Amy through spectacles. "Hey, Sabrina!" Amy smiled as she got down from her mare again to hug the woman, "It's been so long! How've you been? I didn't even see you in that pack." She smiled genuinely, "You know, you look so much better away from that flock of crows." "I've been ok. I guess," the girl said, pushing her glasses a little higher up on her nose, "I haven't really seen you much since school. I heard that your father died, and I was real sorry to hear that. It hasn't been the same since you left. Are you back now?" Amy shook her head, "Well I was for just a little while. We're just leaving to go to Santa Fe. What have you been up to?" The other woman looked a little sad for a moment, "A whole lot of nothing," she said, "Things were a lot harder after you left before the final year was over, but I remembered what you taught me and I finished highest in the school, so I have you to thank for that. I'm not doing much of anything," she said, "Just helping out at home. Anna is getting married in a year, so soon I'll be there alone with my folks and my brother. There's really nothing much to do for me here, other than tutor some of the children. That's about all that I've done since school, but what I'd really like to do is teach." Winky came a little closer to Sabrina and after a moment of sniffing curiously, she just sat down next to her and looked up. Before she was really aware of what she was doing, she was scratching Winky's ear absently. "Is your dog really a wolf, Amy?" Amy nodded with a grin, "Yeah, and I'd say that she likes you, though she's not tame or anything." Amy looked at Sabrina a little seriously, "If you can take a bit of advice, Sabrina, you need to get out from under Anna and live for yourself. Do you really want to teach?" Sabrina nodded, "I do but, well, it's alright to tutor kids a little, but around here, I'll never get a job teaching because they don't hire teachers with last names like mine." Amy thought about what she knew of the girl's situation for a moment and then smiled, "Then you need to get away from here to a place that will let you teach." "What are you talking about, Amy? There's nothing around here like that, just the same school that we went to," Sabrina said. "I know that, Sabrina, "Amy said, a little excited now, "Listen, we don't need a fortune teller to be able to predict your future -- unless you do something to change it right now. Don't get upset with me, but you'll keep living under Anna's heel, completely ignored and forgotten until she gets married. After that, you'll keep living with your folks and your brother will get married sooner or later, and after that, you'll just be the one who takes care of everybody like an unpaid servant." Before Sabrina could really absorb what she'd heard and maybe began to feel badly, Amy nodded, "Do you really want to have your own life, Sabrina? Would you really want to teach if someplace gave you that chance? I know a school in Santa Fe that'll give you a teaching position. A lot of the children come from Mexican backgrounds just like you, and a lot of them are new there and need help learning English too, so you could teach them English and Spanish. You'd be perfect for the job, if you want it. How does that sound?" Sabrina blinked behind her spectacles, "It sounds great, Amy, but how do you know that they'll give me the position?" "Because you've already got it," Amy laughed, "I'm the new headmistress there, and about the only thing that I haven't been able to have ready is the teacher for children just like that, the new kids who have the hardest time in schools where everything is new to them, and they have to struggle because it's only taught in a language they're just learning." The other woman was stunned, "But -- " "No buts, Sabrina," Amy chuckled, "You need a way to start living your own life, and I'm offering a way to do that -- and you'd be solving a big headache for me at the same time! This way, I won't have to sit and interview a roomful of applicants. I know your school records already, don't I? I just need a copy for my records, and we can send away to the school for them. And you'll already know somebody so Santa Fe won't be such a huge jungle to start in. The choice is yours, Sabrina. I'm offering you a way out of this, and I need a teacher like you. You were the only true friend I ever had in this town. We were always together. I don't see why we can't go on now that we're grown. You can stay with me til you get settled, and Ximena and I'll help you find a place if you want. You can do this two ways, Sabrina. You send me a telegram that you're coming and when, and I'll arrange to have someone meet you at the coach station. But that means that you'll have to explain it all to your folks, and they'll only tell you no. Or, you can come with me right now. I promise that you've got a job to start at, a place to live, and if you don't like it, I'll bring you back home again by Thanksgiving. What do you say?" "My god, I'd love that!" Sabrina said excitedly. But then the light faded from her eyes after a second. "You're right," she said quietly, "My folks wouldn't let me go." "You're all grown up," Amy said encouragingly, "If you want to stop being pissed on by everybody, Sabrina, I'm offering you the umbrella. We just go back into Mrs. Parker's store, buy you some clothes that you can travel quickly in, since we won't be going on the road. I'm in a hurry because of my great aunt's health, and all of this will be behind you. I was a lot younger, but that's how I got out. Will you do it? You'll need to TELL your sister what you'll be doing for once, and not asking her." Amy had a word with Arn, who'd heard it all, and he nodded, "If your friend wants to come with us, it can be done, but we would lose a little time." Sabrina blinked, "Who's --" "That's Arn," Amy smiled, "my husband." She smiled, "I guess you must have been at the back of the flock." Sabrina stared a little but then she smiled and nodded before turning back to her friend, "I don't have a horse." "You let me worry about that," Amy grinned, "if it's no trouble riding a mule that I've got in mind. The way out is to get out of this town," she said, "or spend the rest of your life under the thumbs of your family having to listen to all of their reasons why you can't do anything that will let you have a life. You can't see the world if you're on Papa's leash. What has it done for you since we left school?" "Nothing and I won't mind," Sabrina said, "I liked riding the mule that you had on your farm when I'd come to visit during the summers. I'll do it, Amy, "she grinned. Amy hugged her tightly for a moment and whispered, "Right here's the hard part," she said as they turned to go into the store, "You need to tell Anna." Less than ten minutes later, Sabrina had her dress folded inside heavy paper wrapping and stood talking to her sister wearing a shirt and a pair of Levis. Amy paid for her, after promising to let Sabrina pay her back. "I'm not sure that I'd want to teach at a school where the headmistress doesn't know how to dress properly, Sabrina," Anna's voice dripped with scorn as she listened to her younger sister, "You'd just make a mess of it, and anyway, Papa wouldn't allow it." "Then it's a good thing that I'm not asking you anything," Amy said coolly, "since you couldn't teach anything but your own meanness to save your life. I know she'd be perfect for the job. You're the same nasty, worthless bitch that you've always been -- and always will be. Since my very first day at school," Amy said, "you were on my back with all the other town crows, making fun of me and tormenting me for being a farmgirl who had to ride on a hay-wagon for two hours to come to school. You've never allowed your sister to be much more than your pincushion, either. It's been ten years, Anna, and I still remember every minute. Well things have changed." Amy stepped close to Anna and pulled her even closer. There was nothing that the other woman could do to resist the strength that she felt in Amy's hand. "Here's your chance to do something good for Sabrina just one time," she whispered, "and be rid of the sister that you've been acting as though you're ashamed to be related to for your whole life. You've been pissing on her for over twenty years. If you do anything to ruin what I'm trying to do for her, if you don't give her at least an hour to get out of here before you run home to tell on her -- just like every time that she 's ever tried to do anything for herself, well I'll come for you then, Anna. You were about the loudest in this town to talk about it when I killed a man out in the street. Don't ever let me catch you alone, Anna, because I'll kill you. I don't think that I deserve that much happiness, do you?" Anna shook her head. "Good," Amy said softly, "you keep thinking like that, and you might just live long enough to get married, but if you send your boyfriend after Sabrina, I'm going to cancel your wedding for you -- so there's a cost to you if you can't keep that fat mouth of yours shut for once in your life." Amy let go of her. None of the other's faces showed that they'd heard what had been said. They just gawked a little at how far back Anna had to pedal before she regained her balance. Amy looked down for a moment and chuckled, "Remember the time that the winter turned so cold that one year that the snow groaned under our boots, Anna, and how we'd make snow angels because the snow was just perfect for it?" "Yes," Anna replied, a little cautiously. "And then it turned even colder, and Miss Patterson called everyone inside because the wind had turned so cold. You made Sabrina and I lick the doorknob of the shed and our tongues froze to it and then you kept Miss Patterson busy so she wouldn't notice that two seven year-old girls stood in the wind crying for over half an hour, remember? My ears swelled up like pink cauliflowers because you took my hat and Doc Harris said that a few minutes longer and I'd have lost them. You thought it was the funniest thing." "No," Anna lied, "I can't say that I remember that at all." "That's funny, because I sure do." Amy grinned as she backhanded Sabrina's sister across the face, knocking her backward across the floor. "I'd leave now if I were you," Amy smiled, "before I really get to reminiscing." Amy turned back to Sabrina and laid her hand on her shoulder, "Wait'll you meet Ximena. She knows Santa Fe like the back of her hand and she'd be thrilled to meet you and show you around." "Who's Ximena?" Sabrina asked. "She's my best friend in Santa Fe." Amy leveled her gaze toward the older sister again as they turned to go, "And Anna, I don't wear clothes like this where I live, unless I'm out hunting, or you know, running around looking like a cowboy. A woman doesn't have to look down when she walks there, since she doesn't have to worry too much about dragging her hems through shit like you do here. If you think that I'd wear clothes like this to where I work, then you need to spend less time looking down your nose at other people and see the world outside of this flyspeck town." As they saddled up and rode farther along the street with Sabrina sitting behind Arn for the moment, he looked at Amy, "Was that unusual or something? I thought that the woman looked a little strangely at me. Who were the others?" He watched her head tilt back a little as she laughed quietly. "Please forgive me, Arn. I've had to listen to the prissy well-to-dos around this town all of my life. There was nothing wrong in you trying on the shirt. I knew that it would fit you well right off, and it fits even better than I thought it would. I did choose that store for a reason. Besides having everything that we wanted in stock, Old Mrs. Parker there is a human telegraph station, though she's not one of the mean ones around here. While you had your shirt off, half of the girls that I used to go to school with had their noses up against the glass of the window or stood there watching inside the store. No matter what I say or do, they'll talk about it in a mean-spirited way. I figured that I'd just give them something to talk about, that's all." She winked at him, "I'm sure they'll all find some reason to look down on us. That's about all that they're good for. But I know what every single one of them is thinking; whether she says it out loud or not. I've gone to school with most of their husbands, those that are married." She smirked, "I'll bet half of them are related to their own husbands somehow." Arn doubted it until he heard Sabrina's quiet chuckle from behind him from where she sat on his horse. "This is true?" He asked over his shoulder. "No, Arn," Sabrina said, "Amy and I are just being as catty as they are for once." They noticed that he'd fallen silent after his nod. Amy waited a minute and then asked," Have I done something wrong? I didn't mean to embarrass you, if you feel that way." "No," he said, after a second as he adjusted his hat, "From where the ones in the store were looking, I am only glad that I was not buying pants." -------------------- Judge Clayton was pleased to part with the third mule, who turned out to be as healthy and mild-mannered as the others. As soon as they were out of town, they rode off along the pathways that Arn knew and before long, the road was out of sight. They kept up the best pace that didn't seem to cause Winky any trouble and stopped for lunch under the boughs of a grove of large oak trees. Just as they saddled up to go on, Arn led them off behind a draw and took them up to a low ridge. They stayed on the side away from the ridgeline for a time until Arn stopped and pointed. A lone rider approached them, and there was a short conversation with Arn. "Marúawebukwu!" he said. "Haa marúawe!" the other answered and Amy saw Arn smile. "Unha hakai nuusuka?" "Tsaatu, untse?" Arn replied, before looking at Amy, "It is the usual way to begin any conversation, "Hello, how are you, and so on." Amy and Sabrina watched as the men spoke for a few minutes. At one point the man smiled and nodded for a moment, before allowing his face to return to its slightly grim expression. He stared at Amy a little, and then he spoke some more, before sidling his horse close by as he passed Amy, giving her a long look. His parting remark was friendly and respectful and Arn returned it. "I saw the scouts on either side of us down there," Arn pointed, "so I brought us up here to save us all some time. There is a group of Comanche passing by down below. The one that I spoke to was an outrider. At first, he wanted to know who I was, thinking that I am a warrior from a tribe that he did not recognize who traveled with two women and a wolf -- which I guess, is what I am." "Why was he staring at me?" Amy asked. "I told him that I come from far away near the ocean. The only ocean that they know anything about lies behind them and none of this group has seen it, he said. I told him no -- the other ocean. I think that he stared at you because I said that you are a dream-walker. He wished to know why we are traveling and why we have a wolf with us. I told him that we go to the home of your tribe and that Winky is your spirit-guide sometimes. He suggested that we may wish to stay with them tonight, but he understood about being newly married. They are in a hurry anyway. They are among the last free Comanche and go now to the Llano Estacado, an old stronghold of theirs. They have left the reservation and go to fight the army there if they must. This is a bad time for them. He stared at your hair," Arn smiled, "and your eyes. He has seen hair like this before, but never from close up. He said that it might be safer for us to travel with them, but I do not wish for us to get caught in their war." He laughed, "Please do not misunderstand me, Sabrina, but I was complimented on my lovely brides, though I think that he believes that Sheena is a spirit-bride, or something like that. I did not understand it all." Sabrina was a little confused at first, but she remembered that her father had called her Sheena in her presence once or twice. They found a secluded place for their evening meal and Arn enjoyed listening as the two friends began to get caught up. Before it grew too dark, Amy inspected Winky's feet carefully to see if they were holding up. The resultant wrestling match caused Arn and Sabrina to laugh at them both. "Well," Amy smiled at Sabrina, "how do you like the adventure so far?" "This is already better than what I'd be doing right about now, "she answered, "though I guess that my parents are pretty upset. I thought about everything that you said, Amy. I decided not to wait because I knew that they'd never give me their permission to go, and like you said, I'm plenty old enough to make my own choices. I'll write them when I get settled. They'll never understand, so I guess that it'll be a lot of me saying that I'm sorry, and a lot of tears all around." "You're likely right," Amy said thoughtfully, "and the one who will be the most sorry is Anna. She'll actually have to do some things around the place now, instead of just ordering you to do it on top of everything else that you do. I guess that you'll likely miss her even so." "Yeah," Sabrina replied, "Though not at the moment. I am really glad that I met you in town today, and I'm really glad that I met you, Arn. It would have been awful to hear that my friend had gotten married, and I never saw the man she married." She looked over at the long pieces of leather that he was working. "What are you doing, anyway?" "I saw something on Sheena's belt to hold more amm - , ... to hold more bullets and I want something like this for my gun." "The word is ammunition, Arn," Amy smiled, "and what you're making there is called a bandolier." She turned to Sabrina, "I bought him another box of shells in the store." They watched him, and he finished just as it was getting hard for Sabrina to see. She and Amy laid out the bedrolls and blankets and they turned in not long after. Sabrina grew a little alarmed at first, but she finally recognized that Winky had chosen her to sleep close to that night. Stormfeather Ch. 11 As they woke to mount up, Arn noticed that Amy was subdued. "I dreamt wanting to know about Maeve and she is getting better. I know that she'll live through this now, and I'm happy about that." "Then what is the matter?" Arn asked, "You look a little cheerless this morning." She sighed, "The people that we saw yesterday. I wanted to know about them." She looked up at her husband, "All that I see ahead of them is that they're riding into sadness where they're going. Late this year, the army will attack them there, and they'll be prisoners again -- those that will live through it. I -- I almost want to go back to warn them, but, ... I think they know it anyway, at least many of them." He nodded, "There is not much that can be done. They are beaten in battle and sign treaties which are broken the same day. The one that we met told me that they were promised that whitemen would stop hunting buffalo if they signed the last treaty, but nothing changed and there are almost no more buffalo now. For Comanches, the buffalo means everything. They travel, hunting and gathering food, but with nothing to hunt for, there is not enough that can be gathered to keep them alive." They saw no one that day and rode with not much conversation between them, since a lot of the way kept them strung out in single file. The morning of the third day, Amy and Sabrina were frying eggs and the sausages for their breakfast. With a good meal in them, they talked of where they were in relation to the progress that they might have expected had they taken the road. "We are a day ahead of where we would be," Arn said, "We will come to Santa Fe this afternoon. You will see your home tonight, and I will know if I can help your aunt." He looked off for a moment, "I do not know how to live among so many people. I will be like Winky there." Amy looked at the two of them. She could see how he felt. "Listen," she said, "I know that you'll be feeling like a fish out of water for a while, Arn. I'm going to do my best to try to help. For right now, you just get us close, and then let me guide us around so that we come out near my aunt's home. She lives on the outskirts and beyond her property, there's open land where we can hunt and fish or just travel here and there for a day. I love traveling with you and Miss Winky loves being with us." She thought for a moment, "I know! There's a guest house out back. It's not big, only a few rooms, but it'll be a cozy palace for us if you have trouble. I'd like to try to live in the house, but it's up to my great aunt. I'd never want to upset her, and me coming back married all of a sudden will be a shock anyway. If it becomes a problem, we'll live in the guest house. It's not far from the stables and the yard is huge with open land behind that, as I said." "Your aunt will likely not be pleased that you have married a man like me," he said. Amy shrugged, "Hard to tell beforehand no matter who I married -- especially now. Besides, she's very unpredictable sometimes as it is. She might just love you to death. But no matter what, Arn, you're my husband. If we have to, we'll just find a place to live somewhere else. I've got more than enough money to be able to afford it." She put her arms around him, "It's only for a year." He nodded and smiled, "And -- as you are about to tell me, I may grow to like it there." Amy laughed, "You may need that long to get over what I'll do to you if you don't stop telling me my thoughts out loud before I have them myself. Will you do it?" Arn nodded, "Yes. I already thought of it when you asked me to marry you. I knew that this would come. I can face this, Sheena. For you, I can face anything. I was only feeling a little uncertain today, but I do not anymore." They didn't stop for lunch, and it was early afternoon when they arrived and rode up the long drive, under the trees next to the grand house and toward the stables out back. Arn and Sabrina looked around in a bit of wonder. "You live here, Amy? "Sabrina stared, "Holy Humphrey, ..." Amy burst into laughter, "What? I've never heard that before." "That's because I just made it up," Sabrina shrugged, "Nothing else seemed to fit." The stableboy looked worried until Amy asked him who he was. The answer came in halting English until Amy shook her head and spoke to him in Spanish. "He's only been here for a week, "Amy said, "Juan took sick and Pablo here is his son. I told him who you are." Arn introduced himself in Spanish and helped get the horses settled. The back door opened and Ximena flew across the long yard to them. Sabrina watched as she ran up to hug Amy. She had a thought that, if she'd had a chance, and been born with better looks, this was exactly the sort of woman that she'd have wanted to be and look like. There was beauty and grace everywhere on her. "Oh thank God you're home," Ximena exclaimed. "What did you mean by 'Mrs. Amy Stormfeather'? Was there some hidden meaning there? I didn't understand that -- " Ximena stopped and stared as Arn stepped out of the shadows in the stable and into the sunshine. "Christos," she whispered, "The one from your dreams, Amy. He lives, ... I -- I thought it was only, ..." She blinked, but Arn only smiled wider as he walked up and offered his hand. He looked confused after a moment, seeing that Ximena was not looking as though she was going to offer him hers. Amy grinned and took her friend's arm so that he could grasp her hand for a moment. "Tell Ximena you're pleased to meet her," she grinned, Ximena, "this is my husband Arn." "I am happy to meet you, Miss Sanchez," he said, "I have heard a lot about you." "This is my friend, Sabrina de la Cruz," Amy said, as Ximena tore her eyes off Arn and tried to regain her composure. "She's going to stay with us and teach at the school." Ximena had recovered by then and returned to a little of her normal gracious self as she smiled warmly at Sabrina, "Welcome and please forgive me if I seemed a little, ... " she rolled her eyes. "I should explain. Amy had dreams of him and she told me. I didn't believe that, ..." She shook her head, "Amy, you should go and see Maeve, but be careful, she has trouble understanding if you speak quickly. Her left side was affected, but it is a little better now. I think that you ought to go see her while I show Sabrina to one of the spare bedrooms." They walked to the house, and Arn was left alone in the kitchen for a minute as Amy went upstairs, and Ximena took Sabrina to the bedroom that she'd decided would be for Sabrina's use. "I'm very sorry for my bad manners," she said, "I meant nothing by it, but it was such a shock," she said as she opened the door for Sabrina, who didn't reply as walked inside looking around before she placed her wrapped dress on the chair. Sabrina turned around and they smiled at each other, "Well, there's all of my clothing," she said, feeling a little foolish, "Amy convinced me that I ought to come along right then, so I don't have much of anything with me." She shrugged, "I guess I'll unpack later." They returned to the kitchen and Ximena offered them coffee. After filling the kettle and placing it on the stove, she indicated the chairs to them and sat down herself. "Stormfeather," she began cautiously, - "I think that Sheena wishes that I use my other name," he said smiling, "I am Arn." "Sheena?" Ximena was confused. "I think I can help," Sabrina said, "Sheena is Amy's second name. Arn met Amy's father a day before he died, and he told Arn of his daughter, Sheena. He always liked that name better, so that was the name that he said to Arn then. I asked all of these questions the other day, so I know the whole story -- or enough for this, anyway. Arn is the name that his father gave him, and Stormfeather is the name that his mother named him. Have I got that right, Arn?" "Yes," he smiled, "perfect. When we were to be married, Sheena told me that I must have two names, and so, ..." Ximena leaned a little closer, "Please, " she asked, "I need to know, only because of Maeve." She struggled for a long moment and then looked at him, trying to keep her gaze centered on his eyes, "Are you a, - a nahual? I wish to know if you can help Maeve." Sabrina was stunned, "What are you talking about?" Arn smiled for a moment and looked down. He didn't know the best way to go in this situation and struggled with it. But he decided that since he wouldn't lie, that the truth was the only way that he could go. He opened his mouth, and Amy walked into the room. "She's asleep," she shrugged. Ximena ignored Amy for the moment, "Please, I need to know." He sat back and looked at Amy. "Ximena asked me if I am what she knows as a nahual. I can see that Sabrina has at least a little idea of what that is, since she is sitting here with wide open eyes. If you can help, Sheena, I am afraid that anything that I say now will be wrong." Amy held up her hand and closed the kitchen doors. "Before he answers, Ximena, I need you to understand something. If you're going to believe whatever craziness you might have been told, then no, he isn't." They looked at Amy and then at Arn, and back. It would have been funny, Amy thought, in about any other situation. "Do you remember the night that I came back from burying my father and I told you and Maeve what I'd dreamed of?" Ximena nodded, never taking her eyes from Arn as she listened. Whatever Amt had wanted to say left her head right then. "Hey!" Amy said, as they looked at her, "I'm the one who's speaking. You could at least look at me when I talk to you." "I'm sorry," the housekeeper said, "it's just -- " Amy was furious. "It's just the superstitious nonsense that's about to get you fired from a pretty nice job if you can't stop acting like a frightened child." Ximena blinked at Amy, who continued, "I mean it, Ximena. How long have I been home now? How long am I going to have to wait? I thought that you were my friend. I was married four days ago. I had my lawyer send you a telegram stating that fact. You might not have understood, so that's my own fault, I guess, but dammit, Ximena, you could at least put your superstitions aside long enough to congratulate us, couldn't you?" Her eyes fell on the Western Union envelope there on the table. Amy snatched it up and pulled the sheet of flimsy paper out to read it aloud. "This is to inform you that Amy Monaghan was married to Arn Stormfeather today outside Portales New Mexico Territory STOP Please care for Maeve STOP Amy will come home soonest STOP Has many sketches for you STOP Clayton Blake END" There was silence around the table. Amy pushed her chair back and stood up. "Please come and at least look at my Aunt Maeve while she's still alive, Arn." She glared at Ximena, "When I come back, the very first thing that you say will determine whether you'll be here in this job or out on the street looking for a new one." She raised her hands above her head and waved them as she rolled her eyes in imitation of a lunatic, "Or maybe he'll eat you up for dinner, you never know with these nahual bogeymen things, right?" She leaned on the edge of the table, "Do you really think that I would leave you alone with some terrible monster -- to hear you and my aunt tell of it --you, Ximena, the one that I thought was my best friend here in Santa Fe if I thought for a moment that you'd be in danger from him? Do you think that I'd leave my only childhood friend in any sort of danger as well? What the hell would have happened if he'd have sneezed? Would you have run for the priest? You'd better get a hold of yourself pretty quick, Ximena." She looked at Sabrina, "I'm sorry about this, and I'm very, very embarrassed right now, Sabrina. You must be wondering what you've fallen into here. I am too. I sure didn't think I'd be coming home to this." She walked out of the room and Ximena burst into tears. ---------------------- There had been pain flaring across her body and then it was as though things were exploding in her mind. After that, there was only numbness in much of it. Maeve had welcomed it at first, but then, as the minutes passed and she'd felt nothing, she opened her eyes and found herself in her bed. She tried to move and a new horror began at that point. More than half of her body refused to answer to the commands sent from her damaged brain. That had happened a week ago. Since then, she'd been fighting back her despair. All these long years to be finally humbled like this. But now as she lay there wondering whether she'd soiled herself again, she felt a tingling warmth in her hand. It was just a little thing, but she was certain that it was there. She wondered if this was just some sort of 'ghost' sensation, manufactured by her mind in response to her want to feel something there again. She opened her eyes. There next to her bed, sat a man on a chair. He had his head down as though he was sitting there asleep. Maeve wondered about it for a moment, but she heard her name spoken by a familiar voice and she scanned around her field of view with her eyes until she saw Amy. Maeve tried to speak, but her great niece held up her hand and shook her head, "Just rest, Aunt Maeve, just rest now. Don't try to move for a while. I'm here now." Maeve's eyes swiveled back toward the man and she noticed that he held her hand, the dead one which refused to work anymore. The one which tingled now in such a strange way. The questions that she had now and the way that the warmth began to spread were too distracting, and so she gave up and just closed her eyes again, a little thankful that Amy was there at last. ------------------ Sabrina felt very awkward sitting in the kitchen as Ximena cried. She didn't really know what she ought to do, so she did nothing for a few minutes. Looking around, she saw a wooden box of cloth napkins and stood up to get one. "Here, Ximena," she said, placing her arm around Ximena's shoulders while offering the napkin in her other hand. The housekeeper raised her head and took the proffered cloth with a little smiling nod to begin to wipe her tears. Sabrina noticed something -- or thought that she did that was a little odd -- unless you were someone who would know a thing or two about it. She wasn't sure yet, but she was beginning to become a little certain that Ximena was squirming a little bit. "I'm sorry," she said. "That's alright," Sabrina said, "I don't really understand what it was, but I could see that something knocked you off your stride. You're not sixteen, so it can't be seeing a man like Arn - though that's exactly what it looked like to me. You took one look at him, and all of this began." Ximena sighed, shaking her head a little, "Amy draws these wonderful scenes in her pictures often and before she left to go to her farm, she showed me pictures of him from her dreams. Sabrina, it's him - exactly as she drew him, but there were other drawings that she said were of him in another shape, and that's what spooked me, I guess. I don't know what to think now." Sabrina heard the words, but she was also somewhat astounded. Her first impression of the housekeeper had spoken to her of a woman who bore a lot of inner self-confidence - and she obviously bore it well, running this huge house by herself. That impression was clearly at odds with the one that she drew at the moment. Because of her own past, there was a clear and ringing resonance that caused her a lot of wonder and just a little quiet and inner arousal. "I'm very sorry," Ximena said, "Amy's right. I've been very rude to her and her husband and to you." Sabrina wanted to say that it was alright and not to think about it, but she was fascinated, thinking that she was looking at a phenomenon that she'd never seen from this side of it before, so she chose her words a little differently. "Well it was pretty rude of you, actually," she said, though not in a nasty way. "I mean, the whole time that I was on the way here, I kept hearing from Amy what a wonderful friend you were to her and how I wouldn't need to feel so lost in a big place like Santa Fe. I felt a lot more at ease to hear that, and I was hopeful to make a new friend as well." She paused and saw that Ximena had her head lowered and was looking down at her hands on the table -- but that she was most definitely squirming. You had to look hard for it, but it was there, she thought to herself, the same uncomfortable squirming that she herself had never been able to suppress if someone was mean to her. Sabrina smiled to herself as she finished the thought, she did that herself then -- because it felt good to squeeze her thighs together a little then. She looked carefully and saw that Ximena's mouth was open just a little, so she continued in the same tone. "I don't know what Amy's idea of a prospective friend might be now. I mean, I was standing there back at the stables and I was pretty much ignored, wasn't I?" She turned her head and hissed into Ximena's hear softly, "Wasn't I, Ximena?" Ximena didn't look up, but she nodded, and at that instant, Sabrina heard the other woman's tiny little sigh of repressed pleasure and she felt herself grow a little wet in response. This is all wrong, she thought, but it did feel good, she admitted to herself. "I was a little hurt, you know," she said, forcing the edge into her voice that she'd normally never use on anyone, "I was hoping to meet this great friend of Amy's and I was forgotten in an instant while you almost fell over yourself over Arn." Ximena sobbed once -- a tiny little thing that came out of her, and Sabrina knew that it was heartfelt, but that it was also an indicator of the housekeeper's arousal, since she'd been in that very same position thousands of times in her own life. She thought about it for a moment longer and wondered if she dared to go just a little further. Amy might be back at any instant, but she was beginning to feel as though she'd found someone so very special. Someone just like her. "Really Ximena, it's alright," Sabrina said with a friendly smile, "I didn't really mean any of that. It's just that I noticed something about you just now, ... something in the way that you were sitting there squirming. I noticed that. I couldn't help it, really. I only saw it because you were reacting to what I said in the same way that I've always reacted." She looked into Ximena's tearful eyes and forced herself onward. "If I were in your place right now, this is where my sister or brother would say you're not a very good housekeeper, are you, Sabrina?' And then I'd squirm even more, because it feels good to me to do that. Then one or the other would pull my hair back and just tell me how bad I am at everything that I've ever done. They'd probably slap me then, too. I have a feeling that you've been in the same place as me before so you might know what I'm talking about." Ximena nodded with a little sob that transfixed the smaller woman. She'd been right here - right at this point so often for all of her life. "What happened when you were bad?" Ximena began to whisper back so quietly that Sabrina had to stare at her lips to read them, "My mother slapped me," she said, her thighs refusing to stay still. Sabrina gently pulled the long black hair away from Ximena's face as she stood up and leaned in close. "It's alright, Ximena, it's alright to feel like this. I am the same as you are, so I know just how you feel now. I want you to know that I forgive you." Sabrina smiled as she watched Ximena stare at her, "If it were me in your place right now, I'd be dying to find a place where I could be alone, because at times like this, ... well, I couldn't wait to forgive myself." Ximena gaped into Sabrina's eyes past her spectacles. She had no idea how she'd gotten herself into this, but she ached for it to continue -- at least a little. She shuddered for a moment and sighed. Stormfeather Ch. 11 Sabrina nodded, recognizing more of what she saw in the other woman, seeing more of herself and she brought her mouth to Ximena's ear. "Listen," she whispered softly, "I know where you are right here. I see how you want to be a good girl. I used to be treated just like this all the time at home, so I know what you need right now, Ximena. If you were alone now, you'd probably need to touch yourself because it would make you feel a little better, even though you've always told yourself that it's wrong to feel that way and to do that." Ximena nodded, but felt as though her voice would betray her if she used it now. Sabrina smiled warmly and she kissed Ximena's cheek once in obvious sincerity, before she sat back down, "I think that I've spent my whole life right where you are now. The only thing that I can't understand is why in your case. You're so much more sophisticated than I am, and I can see that you have a lot of self-confidence. That's what I need to grow some of. I really wish that I could." Ximena stared at Sabrina with more than a little uncertainty, but she nodded and said, "I wasn't treated badly when I was younger - really, I wasn't. But something happened to me that changed how I felt about everything. Since I came here, I have done my best to forget it all, and I have done just that - until now." She smiled after a moment and said, "I came from a small place too, Sabrina. I can help you to feel a little less lost here, and I'll do that, if you wish. I don't mind." Sabrina smiled with a little hope for the moment, "I am very glad then." "I have never felt that so strongly before," Ximena said, still feeling a little strange, "I - I almost, ... And to feel that way because of another woman's words, ..." "I don't think it matters much -- at least not that much to me," Sabrina said, "I think that it is the moment of forgiveness, the knowing that the other one forgives you and understands how you need release then that is really important. That is when it is the best. I have never done it from that side of it before, but I have been where you were forever. That is how I knew when I saw you squirming on your chair. I love it too, to be as you were." "I'm still sorry," Ximena said. That's alright," Sabrina repeated, "I don't know what to think anymore. I'm here in Santa Fe, wondering what I ought to do now. I might join you crying in another minute. I don't know anyone but Amy, and I have no money to get home, or, if I even want to go home. Amy told me that she has a job for me at her school." Ximena looked over, "This is all my fault," she said, "a housekeeper is supposed to keep a house like this on an even keel, nice and level, no matter what happens. She's not supposed to add to the upset." She blew her nose and sniffled, "If Amy told you that you have a job, then you have a job, Sabrina. I might not have one soon, but until that happens, I'm still the housekeeper here." She stood up and walked to the counter where she would normally be presiding over the dinner preparations by this time of the day. "Please, pour us both a cup of coffee. The cups are over there. I'll begin to make the evening meal." Sabrina had a cup of the beverage beside Ximena an instant later. "May I help?" she asked. Ximena looked at her and nodded, "Why not?" "You were traveling with Amy and her husband," she smiled, "was there anything that you can say that he liked to eat, or something that he doesn't like?" Sabrina shrugged, "We didn't have anything special. I think that he'd be really pleased to have anything. He's really a nice man," she said, "I think Amy's very lucky." "Sabrina," the housekeeper said softly, "If I still have my job, and even if I don't, I would like to talk with you about, ... about what happened there, later, if we could. I'm not sure that I understand it yet." Sabrina smiled, "I'd love that, Ximena. Now I think that I can say that I've made a friend. Do you, ... do you think that you could do something like that for me? Could we trade places? I'm usually the one on the other side of it. I think that I'd like that from you. I can see that you're not mean by nature." "I don't know if I can do that very well," Ximena said cautiously, "I've never really had anything to do with another woman before." "It's not that," Sabrina said, looking up through her glasses a little hopefully, "It's just a little help that you give at the moment of forgiveness. I've never had that, so I had to make my own moments. I was treated badly by my brother and my sister for years. They just used me, and I had to take my little pleasures in a hidden way as I could. I think it would be wonderful to do that with you helping at the right time -- I don't think that it's very hard to do. I liked doing that for you. I'm no angel either, you know." "I can certainly see that, Sabrina," the taller woman smiled, "Come on then," she said, "the meal won't make itself." ------------------ When the tingling had reached to the centerline of her body, Maeve opened her eyes again. She was fighting off her ticklishness, more than anything now, amazed at what she felt. But somewhere in that, she also felt the beginnings of the return of sensory information. Her back, bottom and leg weren't feeling as though they were swollen to balloon proportions anymore. They were telling her of the pressure of her weight on the bed. She was careful not to say anything, while she tested how it felt to her mouth to form the words. To her surprise, she felt her mouth move in a way that felt very familiar to her. "Please, "she said in a croaking voice, "Could you stop for a moment? I feel as though I ought to laugh for the ticklishness." She turned her head and saw the man's head nod, though he didn't lift it. Amy was in her view instantly. "How are you feeling now?" she asked. "A lot better, " Maeve said slowly, "I just want some time to rest for a moment, and then this gentleman can continue to work his wonders on me." "Alright," Amy smiled. "Please," the man said without looking up, "Can you feel my hand?" "Yes!" Maeve said, "I really can!" "Then, can you please try to squeeze my hand, only a little, and only for a short time?" She tried, and Maeve wanted to weep in joy. "Did I do anything?" She could hear his smile, "Yes. Tell me when you feel that you wish me to continue. I am not finished yet. Only a little more, but tell me when you are ready." "Who are you?" she asked, "Amy, who is this man?" "One thing at a time, Aunt Maeve," she smiled through her own happy tears. --------------------- They worked very well together. Dinner was going to be a little on the meat and potatoes side, but Ximena knew that it wouldn't be a problem -- and there would even be a choice of soup or broth for Maeve, depending on Amy's preference, and what she thought that her aunt could handle. Ximena would have banked on the broth, and perhaps a bit of bread with the crust cut away. Sabrina was no stranger to a kitchen and her help was invaluable to Ximena, who struggled over what she was going to say to Amy when she saw her again. She gave some thought to preparing Amy's favorite desert, but decided against it. "Why not? "Sabrina asked. "Amy's never been angry with me before," Ximena said, "but I think that going that far would be like begging for my job." "You're probably right," Sabrina nodded, "though I hope you don't lose your job. I've known her for a while, and her storms pass quicker than they come. Besides, she told me that you'd show me where everything is in this town, and that we'd probably make great friends. I think that we could both use one right now." Ximena nodded, smiling, "An out of work housekeeper, and a girl from a small town lost in a big one, "she said, "Yes, there's a pair who could each use a friend. But I haven't been fired just yet, and you've still got a job. Let's see how this goes. When Amy comes back, I'll apologize for being an idiot and for forgetting what I should have said in the first place." "It's all right, Ximena," Amy said from the doorway, "I was just really upset. I'm very sorry for my tantrum." Ximena shook her head, "No, Amy. You had a right to be. I'm very sorry about everything. I'm happy for you both, believe me, and I think he's a good man, from the very little that I got to know of him. The way that I see it, you were upset over not hearing something that anyone should be able to expect from a friend. I failed you in that, and I don't know what was wrong with me. I'd hope that you can forgive me, and if you'd let me stay the night, I'll be gone sometime tomorrow. You don't have to give me a reference, if you don't want to." "Oh don't be stupid, Ximena," Amy said as she walked into the room, "With just a little thought, I could have understood, but I didn't stop to think. Please don't go. I want you to stay on, and I'm sorry for making you cry. I feel awful about that." She hugged Ximena and looked into her eyes, "Please tell me that I haven't lost your friendship." Ximena hugged her back and shook her head, "No, Amy, We're still friends. How is Maeve?" "That's what I came down about," she said, "Maeve is hungry. I've just helped her to the commode upstairs so that she could use the chamber pot and she's ravenous now." The housekeeper stared, "To the commode, but, ... well, I've got broth and I've got soup for her." "Don't you dare take her broth, if you value your life, "Amy grinned, "She'll bellow at you if you do that. Take her soup and bread -- and tell her that I said so. She can have a full meal tomorrow." Ximena had everything on a platter and was heading up the stairs as quickly as she could go. She met Arn in the hall as he was coming down. "Amy says Maeve is better," she said. He nodded, "Not enough to go dancing yet," he smiled. "Thank you," Ximena said, meaning it. After the shock of finding Maeve sitting up in her bed, Ximena was astounded to hear her old employer say that she thought the world of Amy's new husband and after being assured that Maeve could manage her meal and her dishes, she was shooed from the room. As she walked back downstairs, Ximena shook her head in disbelief. She walked into the kitchen just as the stableboy stopped by to say that he was done for the day. He also brought Winky, who was looking a little proud of herself. "She is the best thing that I have ever seen at catching the rats in the stable," he said, "She hunts them and she never gives up." Arn and Amy looked at each other, realizing that they'd forgotten all about her. "Ximena, would you happen to have a bone of some kind for Miss Winky here? I'd say that she deserves it." "This is not a dog, Amy," Ximena said, "This is a wolf!" "We know that. But she's ours, and I'm feeling pretty guilty right now, "Amy said. She sighed, "I guess maybe my idea was the best one, Arn. We'll move into the guest house tomorrow. I can't see my aunt trying to get around at her age and having to worry about Winky tearing around the way that she does when she's happy." As Sabrina laid out the meal and the plates, Ximena fished a soup bone out of the pot. She held it against her lips for a moment and nodded, "Is this one good enough? It's warm, but it's not hot anymore." "It'll be fine then," Amy said. What - how do I give it to her?" she asked, noticing the way that the red wolf was eyeing her as she held up the bone. "Just hold it near the end and hold it out for her," Amy said," and she'll do the-" "That's fine, "she said, as Ximena stood inspecting her fingers. "Next time that you want to give her something, just tell her to take it nicely. She slows down a little then." Ximena looked over at Winky a little nervously, but it was plain after a second that from the look that was returned to her, Winky now thought the world of her. Ximena couldn't help her smile as they all sat down to dinner. "You were asking -- or wanting to ask Arn if he is a nahual," Amy reminded her. Ximena protested that she didn't really want to know anymore. "Let's go back to 'Congratulations, you look so good together!'" Amy just said, "Fine, and thank you. If you ever do want to talk about it again, then say so and we'll do that more calmly, I hope. In the meantime, you ought to hang your dress after dinner, Sabrina and I think that we'll need to buy you another one tomorrow. I'd like to show you the school the day after, and then we'll have the weekend to get ready for the start of school after that." "Alright then," Sabrina smiled, "That sounds like the beginnings of a plan that I can look forward to." Amy smiled back and looked down at her plate to begin to eat. Sabrina glanced at her and then at Arn for a second, wondering. Sabrina felt the look on her from Ximena. She looked back and they shared a secret smile -- until Sabrina purposely knocked over her small goblet of wine. She grabbed a dishtowel from behind her and did her best to soak up the spill. "I'm so sorry, Ximena," she said, sounding very apologetic and convincing. The moment was past quickly and the newlyweds returned their concentration to their dinners. But Ximena didn't. She smiled at Sabrina, "That's alright, Sabrina. No harm done really. There's nothing at all to apologize for. It happens all the time. Have some more wine and forget it." The two women smiled at each other and Sabrina wondered at her own anticipation. -------------- Over dinner, Ximena had asked about the degree of accuracy of Amy's dreams, since this was a chance for her to guage that. The answer led to more questions afterward as they'd gone out to enjoy the evening sitting in chairs around the brazier that was kept there for evenings such as this. From there, Ximena and Sabrina had been a little surprised to see Stormfeather set down his cup with a smile and a shrug. "Since you have asked, and I need to do this anyway," he'd said, getting to his feet, "I can show you and you can see." He walked to the stables, and came back to them carrying a rolled cloth in his arms. When he'd stepped onto the porch, they were a little surprised at the way that the bundle clanked quietly as he'd set it down to unroll it. When he'd untied and pulled the cloth covering away, they were looking at a very old axe, and a sword in a rather tired --looking leather scabbard. "Where can I keep these?" he asked Amy. "We'll put them in the drawing room for now," she'd smiled, "Old friends like those shouldn't lie rusting in the stable." He'd nodded and headed back to bring his bow. "Do they look real enough for you?" Amy had grinned at Ximena, who had nodded. "Yes," she'd said, "They are the ones from your drawings." Sabrina couldn't really believe what she was looking at. "Is that -- that's a real sword and a -- " "A battle-axe," Amy had smiled, "yes. They're very old." She watched her friend blink through her spectacles and knew what was coming. "May I touch them?" Sabrina asked when Arn had laid his bow and quiver down. He'd nodded, smiling, "Of course, only, do not drop them on your feet. They are sharp," he said, lifting the sword and drawing it out about halfway before offering her the hilt of it. Sabrina reached to grasp the hilt of the sword, and was surprised that it was even heavier than it appeared. She used both hands to hold it point upward in front of her, "Holy, ... " "Humphrey?" Amy suggested with a wry smile. "Oh, hell yeah!" Sabrina exclaimed, laughing a little. "I don't dare to swing it. I don't think I can and still hang onto it." "You could," Stormfeather smiled, "but not on the first day. I could not either. It took some time before I could." "Why do you carry them?" Ximena asked. "At first, because they were all that I had of my father's things," Stormfeather said, "and anyway, by then, I could already use them well. Now, well, I have had them for so long that they are like parts of me." A little later, he stood up and walked to the stables, carrying out a bale of hay and setting it down a little way off for use as a temporary target backstop before he picked up his bow and walked away a little as Winky sniffed and wondered why he'd brought the thing. When she saw the bow, she went to sit with Amy for a minute, before lying down quietly by her feet. "He's in a bit of discomfort now, "Amy remarked, as the women sat on the rear porch of the house sipping tea. "I can see that," Ximena nodded, as she watched the way that Arn would repeatedly stop his motions to try to find less restricting ways in which to move, "He is cautious and a little concerned about tearing the seams of his shirt." "On the way here, he was worried about staying sharp," Amy said, "it's a concern for him, since I think staying here will probably be the longest that he's ever been in one place for any length of time. We're going to go hunting fairly often, Ximena. It'll save on some of the cost of food, but it's something that he needs to do. He can't sit still for too long. We'll set up something more permanent than this for his archery." "Isn't he going to need another few bales?" Sabrina asked, "What happens if he misses?" Ximena grinned a little, "I think that he only uses the bale to stop the arrow so that it isn't damaged. It's not in case he misses, is it, Amy?" "I don't know, "Amy said, "I think you're right, but I don't know if he ever misses. I haven't seen him miss yet, but I guess everybody can muff a shot," she said as she stood up, "I'll be right back." She came back after a brief conversation, carrying his shirt and brushing the odd bit of hay from it. "I told him to take this off, since we could see that it was bothering him. He was worried about offending you with it off," she said, rolling her eyes with a grin. "I told him that I didn't think that it would be a problem." "I have no problem," Ximena said with a little grin, "Are you having a problem, Sabrina?" They looked at their companion, who stood looking down for a moment as she cleaned her spectacles with the edge of her blouse for a moment. She set them back on her nose, blinked once and smiled, looking past them at Amy's husband, "There," she sighed with a little exaggeration, "I'm having no problem now ..." After watching for a minute or two, Arn was forgotten as he practiced, which was the way that he'd have preferred it anyway. "I'd like to point something out," Amy said quietly as they chatted, "Ximena, ... "she paused for a moment to choose her words, "look, he is exactly as I drew him before he and I met. If you look carefully, I'm sure that you've already noticed that he has the same thin braids in his hair that I drew as well. You can see for yourself that these things of his," she said, indicating the old weapons lying near their feet, "are the same as the ones that I drew as well. Even Winky here was in one sketch, wasn't she?" Ximena nodded carefully and Amy went on. "So I think that from all of this, you can draw one of two conclusions. Either I met him in the flesh when I was at the farm and drew the pictures, or I drew them from my memory of what I'd dreamed as I said, and THEN I met him. I won't tell you what happened the first time that I met him, but it happened even before I reached the farm after I left here the last time. What happened wasn't romantic or anything, he just came to meet me because he knew that I was heading in his direction. As I said, I won't tell of it, but he saved my life. How we ended up falling for each other and getting married so suddenly came after that, and before you even ask why," she said looking right into Ximena's eyes, "the answer is that I just knew." She sipped her tea for a moment and then set the empty cup down. "If you choose to believe that I met him when I went out to bury my father, then you know that he's a man. A little different, but that's what he'd be then, and I would have been lying about all of the other things that I saw in my dreams, or I saw them and chose to believe them in the fanciful way that a lonely young woman -- as you said, might do. Stormfeather Ch. 11 It's the other choice that might give you some problems. You can ask Sabrina here if he's a wild thing or a terrible monster or whatever you want to. She's slept within twenty feet of him for two nights and she's spent three days in his company with me. I think that she'd tell you that you're nuts. She thinks that he's a nice man, and he thinks that she's wonderful and they make each other laugh sometimes." Sabrina nodded. "I don't know what that talk was earlier, Ximena, but I can tell you that I like him a lot. I heard something once about a nahual, and from what I've seen, Arn's not whatever that is." "It doesn't matter, Amy," Ximena said, "I'm sorry about all of that." Amy shook her head, smiling, "No, you don't understand. I want you both to know that besides my great aunt and Arn, the two of you are the most important people in the world to me, and I'm actually really happy that you're both here, and that I have my friend Sabrina here now so she can do something with her life away from the place where she was almost a prisoner. We can have a wonderful time, no matter how she decides to start, either here for a time, or if she wants to have a place of her own. It doesn't matter. There's just one thing." There was a long pause while Sabrina saw a bit of tension between Amy and Ximena. The housekeeper looked away for a few moments to watch Arn , marveling a little at the way that he was put together and how he moved. Finally, Ximena finished her tea and looked at Amy again. "I was right, wasn't I?" Amy smiled, "You can believe what you want to," she said, "I certainly won't stop you. My only problem is what you'll do, depending on what you decide to believe. If you want it from me, I can offer you the truth. I just don't know if you can accept that and believe me when I tell you that there is no danger that either of you could possibly be in, that's all." "What do you mean, Amy?" Sabrina asked. "Well, from your point of view," Amy smiled, "what I'd say to you is just impossible and can't be believed at all, so I'd accept it from you if you think that I'm crazy. Ximena here has a strange lingering thought that my husband is a nahual -- a man who can turn into an animal. When I told them about what I'd dreamed at first, Ximena came up with that, and my great aunt said that what I'd dreamed about is something that is known as a werewolf in European legends. So I'll fill in a little of the picture for Ximena and at the same time, I'll draw one that will leave you thinking that I'm nuts," she laughed. "You heard Arn say that these things at our feet belonged to his father, and they did. As you might expect, these weapons here are older than Arn is. Only the leather parts aren't. Arn was born a regular child and grew up to be a man. He had a wife and she was murdered along with his mother. He hunted down the killers and was almost killed himself. He planned to just die then -- he was wounded enough. But he was found by someone who took care of him and nursed him back. She was someone -- or something who had never heard my great aunt's word for it or yours either, Ximena. They only call themselves travelers." She smiled as she poured them all some more tea, "Do you like the story so far?" "Go on, Amy," Ximena said, "I'm trying, aren't I? I'm still not getting ready to run for the priest. I'll hear you out." "Well I'm glad of that, Ximena," Amy said, "We've known each other for so long. I'd at least hope that I could be allowed the benefit of the doubt. Anyway, the traveler bit Arn. The magic that I told you about from my dreams came from his father before any of this, so he already had the ability, and his mother had some as well. She taught him how it could be used. None of it came from the traveler. She only bit him after he was almost well from his wounds. Then she left him and he searched for her for a long, long time. She did tell him that all of them must go to one place at some time in their lives. That place turns out to be on the farm where I grew up, but none of us knew that." She nudged the axe, and it clanked against the sword. "These things are ancient, older than Arn, but not by all that much. He searched for the other traveler for about a hundred years before she called to him. He never found her because he stopped feeling her call, but he searched for seven hundred years after that. Arn is over eight hundred years old," Amy grinned. "You can think I'm loco, Sabrina, and Ximena now has more to wonder about, and I don't really care. The only thing that I'm really worried about is the possibility that you'll both believe me. Because then," she sighed, "I'm really afraid that I'd lose two people that I really care about. You're not in any danger, but if you take what I've told you to be the absolute truth, then you probably won't want to be near either Arn or me. But it's your choice. If you want to leave because of this, Ximena, then go with my love and best wishes whenever you want. The same goes for you, Sabrina. I want you to teach at the school, and I've always loved you to death as my friend, but if you're afraid of him, I'd understand." There was a long minute of silence between them before Ximena spoke, "Just tell me, Amy, for God's sake, is he a nahual or isn't he?" "From what you said to me, that's a man who can turn into an animal," Amy said, wiping a small tear from her eye, "I don't think that it's correct. Maeve said that a werewolf is a human who can turn into a beast. I don't think that she knows what she was talking about either. If a traveler bites you and you live through the change, then you become a traveler yourself. They don't exactly run around biting people, but it happens. If you're bitten, you turn into what they are, and you can also look like the human that you once were." "Why are you crying?" Sabrina asked. "I'm not, really," Amy said, "I probably will once you both decide that you don't want to be near Arn, because I'll lose my two best friends." "But, won't he bite you?" Ximena asked. It made Amy chuckle in spite of the way that she felt. "He bites me all the time, Ximena, he's my husband and we can't keep our hands off each other, but if you mean whether he'll turn me into a traveler, well that's already happened because I asked him for it, and by the way he gave me all the reasons against it and he pointed out all sorts of things that would change. I want to serve one year as the headmistress at the school and then we'll travel together. We do plan to come back here now and then, but yes, we're both travelers now." She looked at Ximena with a smirk, "And don't make me do the bogeyman thing again, please." Ximena's eyebrows began to rise as she looked down, "And this, this wolf is, ..." "Winky is a red wolf who lost her pack when they were killed out on my family's farm, Ximena. She's a real live wolf who can't do anything but like you because you gave her a soup bone an hour ago. As far as what Arn looks like, well, you already know that because you saw my sketches. That is how he looks, and I'll show them to Sabrina if she wants to see them. That is, if either of you stay here that long and don't run off screaming. I'm the same girl that I always was, if you take the time to think about it." "So he bit you, ..." Sabrina said. "Yes," Amy nodded, "I decided that I want to spend my life with him and I asked him to. It took a lot of arguing." she said. She grimaced at the taste of her cold tea. "I'm going to make another pot. This is cold." "Well," Sabrina said as she got up to follow Amy inside, "Aren't you going to show me? Did he bite you on the ass or what? I'd want to see that." Amy stopped and turned around in surprise. They were both following her inside. When they got to the kitchen, she looked at them quizzically. "We believe you," Ximena said, "We're just nosy now and we want to see." "You're joking," Amy said. "No, we actually want to see the bite if he left a mark," Sabrina said, "You're the same Amy that I've always known, so it didn't kill you and neither one of you hurt me while we were on the way here." "He really looks like you drew him then?" Ximena asked. Amy couldn't believe it, but she was relieved. "Yeah," she nodded. "What's he look like then?" Sabrina wanted to know. "Ay," Ximena said to get Sabrina's attention. When she had it, she shook her hand at the wrist as though she'd just burned her hand on something. "Magnifico," she sighed. Sabrina said, "So, if he can look like something else what do you look like then?" "I'll show you my sketches later," Amy said, not really understanding why the others were now so calm and accepting about it. "I look like he does then, only female, obviously, furry, toothy, with funny looking feet and I've got stripes on my ribs." Amy was trying to sound as though it was nothing, while at the same time, she was mentioning things which she knew would sound outlandish just to test their responses. "You don't really believe me, do you?" "Well, sort of," Sabrina said, looking out of the window at Arn again, "So, ..." "Oh, spit it out, Sabrina," Ximena chuckled, "What we wish to know, Amy, is what is it like with him then?" Just wonderful, Amy thought to herself, she was doing her best to explain, and they were humoring her. She doubted that they really believed much of anything that she'd said. Amy shook her head as she filled the pot and dumped in the tea. She set the pot onto the stove top with a bit of a bang as she turned to look at the two of them for a moment. "Well," she smirked, thinking that if they were playing at something here, then she'd at least go along with it a little, "he's taller then, because of the way that his feet are built - plus his ears stand up then too. He's still all lumps and muscles, ... oh, and he's so warm and furry - really nice against my skin - unless I'm like that too. It gets a little warm then." Amy tried hard to keep a straight face, knowing that they didn't believe her, but the way that they both grinned at her expectantly like pleased and curious cats, ... Finally, she just laughed and nodded. "Muy magnifico," she grinned,"not that you'd believe me." She tilted her head a little, "What do you expect me to say? That I married a man who is really lousy in bed? Hellfire, I'd never admit a thing like that." She chuckled as she put the lid on the old iron pot, "I'd probably just shoot him and be done." Stormfeather Ch. 12 **I mention a couple of old books in this chapter. As much as I tend to go for facts, I'm playing a little fast and loose with the dates of their publication. An English translation of one of them might have been available in Europe at the time that this tale is set. It's anybody's guess whether a copy might have made its way to New Mexico by then to land in Maeve's hands. All of that notwithstanding, I hope that this is enjoyed. O_o ------------- Well I'm happy for you then," Ximena said, knowing Amy and meaning it despite still being unsure of everything. The statement caused Amy to laugh for a moment. She poured them each some tea and set the pot back down. "You're happy for me -- probably from the view of the friend of a woman who is newly married." She smiled at them, "I did tell you that you'd think that I was nuts." "Come on, Amy," Sabrina said, "you have to know what all of this sounds like to us." "I do," she smiled, "and I'm not really bothered by it. I know how it sounds. Anyway, I don't want to beat it to death. I'm back home with you, Ximena, Maeve is better, and I'm really pleased to have you here with us, Sabrina. Even if you find that you don't like teaching and you go back home at Thanksgiving, we'll have a lot of time to-" "I'm not going back home, "Sabrina said. "I've been thinking about a lot of things and I don't want to go back. I want to go forward." She looked at herself and then at the others for a moment, "I might need a little help -- as you said." Both Ximena and Amy thought that they'd caught something in the inflection of Sabrina's statement - Ximena certainly did - but Amy put a good face on her thoughts and smiled, "Well you couldn't have landed in a better place. You've fallen into the clutches of a pair who know just how to dress and comport oneself in the finest of Santa Fe's circles. We'll help, won't we, Ximena?" "I don't know," Ximena smiled, "what you've just said scares the heck out of me, but I'm sure that we'll manage." ----------------------- Amy walked to where her husband stood pulling his arrows from the hay bale. "Would you like a little wine?" She asked. He thanked her, but shook his head, "Have you had any?" "No," she said, "not yet, anyway, though I was sort of hoping that we could share a little and, you know, ... head for my room." She smiled at him in a rather obviously hopeful way. "It's been a few days." "What lies to the north of here?" he asked, "I have been waiting to teach you things that you must know." He smiled, "I will leave enough time." "What are you talking about?" Amy asked. "I wished to wait for a few days after the change for you to gather and grow your strength," he said, "but I had to wait longer since we had your friend along. Otherwise, I would have shown you as we traveled. There are things which you must know before you find that you need them." "Well, what kind of things?" she asked. Arn smiled, "I am making a mystery out of something when I do not want one, Sheena. It is nothing more than what you can now do. I want you to know of this before you find out by an unhappy accident. Back in that store in Portales, you held onto Sabrina's sister and when you let her go, she almost stumbled backward, which was your intent, I think. But with only a little more effort, you could have killed her without meaning to." "What do we have to do," Amy smiled, "practice this?" He nodded, "In a way." "There's just open ground north of here, and a few small canyons," she said, "a small river as well, about three miles away." "Good enough," he said. She blinked and stared at him a little, "You want to ride a round trip of six miles? In the dark?" He grinned and shook his head. "No, Sheena." "Well good," she said, "because -- " "We won't take the horses." Amy looked and had to chuckle at his enigmatic grin. ------------------ "A walk?" Sabrina asked, "It's nearly dark," she said, "I've been amazed at how he's been hitting that hay bale with his arrows. Now he wants to go for a walk? How will you find your way back?" "I dunno," Amy smiled, "but I've learned to trust in him." She said it just to leave it hanging in the air that way. Sabrina had at least another sentence or two on her tongue but stopped herself when she felt Ximena's light nudge against her hand. "Don't drink all of the house wine," Amy said with a grin, "I expect that we'll be back sometime. Let's go Arn." The two women watched as the newlyweds walked to the back fence with Winky tagging along and out through the gate there to disappear into the gloom. "Why would you want to go for a walk out there in the dark?" Sabrina asked as she turned. The look on Ximena's face brought a thought to her. "Oh yeah," she smirked as they walked into the house. "More wine for us," Ximena smiled. "But Amy said --" "Amy knows exactly how much wine there is to be found in the cellars here," Ximena said, "and she knows that, aside from all of the other vintages, there are two unopened casks of the house wine, never mind the one that is opened, and that one is more than three-quarters full. Did you have serious drinking in mind for this evening, Sabrina? I only thought to have a few glasses myself," she said, filling a goblet for each of them. ----------------- They walked for about a half-mile in the dark before Arn stopped Amy, "Have you noticed anything, Sheena?" She nodded, "I've noticed that we aren't saying much." "How much of a moon is there?" He asked. She looked up and noticed that there was only the barest sliver of the moon visible. "Not very much," she answered. "Can you see well?" he asked. "Yeah," she nodded, before stopping herself to think a little. "I can see a lot better in the dark now." "Is it because of the moon?" "No," Amy said, "at least I don't think it is. Or is it?" "Not at all," he smiled, "Winky's kind does not stay in their dens if there is no moon. They must still hunt, moon or not, with or without clouds covering the stars." "Well I can see pretty well like this," she smiled. "Good," he nodded as he began to remove his boots. "What are you doing?" she asked, "You want to do it here? Now?" "Later," he smiled, leaning in to kiss her for a moment, "We have a way to go, and you will lead us to the river and the canyons. Please take your clothes off. They will hinder you after you change." Amy smiled and bent to take her boots off, "Where will we put the clothes?" Arn pointed to a nearby tree. When she'd handed him her clothing, he added his and walked to the tree. Amy gaped at him when he just seemed to leave the ground as he leapt almost straight up to land on a bough about a dozen feet off the ground. He landed on the ground soundlessly a few seconds later and walked back to rejoin her. "How did you do that?" she asked, a little amazed. "I did nothing that you cannot do yourself now," he smiled, "You just have not tried yet. Come, show me the way, and go only as fast as Winky can run." Amy nodded and began to trot. A few seconds later, she was running as fast as she could -- or thought that she could. Winky thought the game was fun and left her behind in only a second. The only thing that Amy noticed in herself which was different was that her breathing wasn't much harder than when she was walking. "Winky will win the race if you cannot find any more speed, Sheena," he said from beside her, "Run faster." She tried, and even managed to run faster than she'd ever been able to in her life before, but there seemed to be some limitation. She knew that she was running faster than any human runner likely ever could, but it felt a bit off to her. She'd been gaining on Winky for a minute, but when Winky had looked back, she'd seen, and was now barreling joyously along almost as fast as she could go and was opening the gap again. "What am I doing wrong?" she asked, still a little amazed at her speed and the measure of breath that she found in herself for this. She got no reply. Looking over, she saw that Arn was using his arms to bound now and then. Whenever he did that, she noticed that he shot ahead with little apparent effort. "Lean forward a little," he said, "Use what you have been given." Amy tried it and almost landed on her face, just catching herself as her balance shifted. She tried again, and imitated him. In only seconds, it felt more natural and the two of them were almost on Winky, who was now running hard. "Slow a little," he advised, "or our friend will not be able to keep pace." When she had it, Amy wanted to laugh at how fast she could run easily. She felt her breath in and out in measured lungfuls, knowing that she had more at her command in reserve. It felt wonderful. -------------------- It was just after dusk as the two women sat in the kitchen, each with a glass of wine conversing in Spanish between them. "That was surprising," Ximena said, "what we did earlier. I've never felt overcome by a feeling so quickly before." She looked at her companion, "And anyway, how did you know?" "I just saw how you were having such a hard time holding yourself still," Sabrina replied with a shrug, "and I know how it is with me." "But I am a woman who, ... well, I like having a man," the housekeeper said, "I was not expecting, ..." "I like men as well -- I think," Sabrina sighed, "though I've never had the good fortune to, ... " She shook her head, "It doesn't really matter," she said, "for something like that, I think it is better with another woman who shares the taste for it. I think a man would be too harsh and use the wrong words, or perhaps it would be hard to find one who is like that. It must be, I have never met anyone who, ... well, is like you are." "You said something about your brother and sister earlier," Ximena said, "what did they do to you?" "Do you really wish to know this?" Sabrina asked, "It is embarrassing to tell of it." "I see a mixture of things in you," the housekeeper said, "You are uncertain, being here in a strange place, and yet you seem pleased to be here all the same. You are happy to be with Amy again and I can even tell that you like me and wish for my friendship -- which you already have, Sabrina, and it has nothing to do with what we speak of now. I'm still surprised at what we did a while ago. It's not very much like me to show much of myself to someone whom I have only just met, and I am hoping that with that between us, you can tell of it." Sabrina nodded and after a sip of her wine, she began. "Sometimes, when we were in our beds, we would hear my mother and father. It would sound as though my father was angry with my mother, and we could hear what sounded like slapping. But we never heard our mother crying, really. We wanted to go and peek through the keyhole, but none of us dared, because -- " "Because you were afraid that you'd be caught at it?" "Obviously, and worse than that," Sabrina said, "we could never tell when the door might open. It often happened that the door would open suddenly, and Papa would take Mama to the woodshed in the night. We followed a few times, and he would ask her if she wanted what he was about to do to her, - and she always said yes. I guess this went on all of our lives, but we never knew of it until we were older. I'm not sure, but I think I must have been eighteen then, and I'm the youngest." "What happened then?" Ximena asked, feeling a little strangely, as though she was caught between not wishing to hear more, and wanting to very much. "It depended," Sabrina said, as she pushed her glasses up on her nose. She didn't let on, but she was trying to observe Ximena again, looking for some sort of sign. "Wait," she said, leaning a little closer, "Ximena, you must promise me that you will never tell Amy of what I say to you now. I know her, and we have always cared a great deal for each other ever since we were children. We sometimes felt as if we were the only people who cared about each other, and we always stood together in anything. You know Amy. She can get very hot in an instant -- especially if she thinks that she sees something that is wrong. If you tell her any of this, I am afraid that she would kill my family." Ximena nodded slowly as she tried covertly to work the hem of her dress higher with one hand in anticipation of what she might hear. "Oh, I know Amy," she said, "and you're probably right. But, go on, Sabrina, please. I promise that I won't say anything." The smaller woman had to struggle to hide the smile that she was afraid to show for a moment, but she continued, "He would tie her up in any of several ways, and he often beat her lightly with a switch, or some thin branches. Sometimes he used a very short whip. I used to try to look later to see if there were marks, because we saw red lines on her from it those nights, on her thighs, and her bottom and her breasts. But I could never see anything like that if I tried to see into her dress if she bent over the next day. He would slap her backside hard and then he would, ... well, he'd, ..." "Fuck her?" Ximena asked in a whisper, as the feeling in her began to grow a little stronger. Sabina nodded, "Yes. He'd tie her hands together and then he'd tie them to a hook low on the wall so that her hands were above her head, but she was lying on her back. Then he'd push her legs apart and begin. We could see that she liked it that way very much. Or he'd have her there on her knees and do it from behind." She felt herself getting a little damp again. She was enjoying this, telling Ximena everything. "Sometimes it lasted a long time, and it looked to me as though he was slapping her bottom more than he was doing the other thing until he sped up at the end. Papa would usually tie her hands behind her back and make her kneel to suck him. Sometimes, Mama would begin to cry a little, because she had to pee, and when he found out, he'd tell her to just pee there in the dirt, but not to stop what she was doing for him." Sabrina watched Ximena absorb it as they sat with their wine, with Ximena shaking her head at some points, but she could see that Ximena was moving slightly. She hadn't seen Ximena's right hand in a few minutes, and even without being able to see, Sabrina was fairly certain that the hand was busy under the table. Ximena sat still for a moment and took her goblet of wine in her left hand to take a sip. It was a sure sign to Sabrina, since she'd seen enough before this to know that Ximena was right-handed. "That was when my sister began with me," she said. Ximena almost lost her mouthful of wine then. "What? How? What did she do?" Sabrina felt the tingling and mild throbs from between her legs. She now knew that she could tell Ximena everything, but she wanted this to go further, so she began to whisper, so that Ximena could pick up the furtiveness that she put into her voice. "We watched one night when my brother was away visiting a friend. It seemed that we couldn't help ourselves. Anna and I crept out to the woodshed a while after they'd begun and we watched through some small spaces between the boards of the wall. Whenever we watched, I would try to please myself afterward in my bed. I always had to be careful so that Anna wouldn't hear me. But that night, I guess that I got more excited and as I watched. I couldn't help myself for some reason and I pulled the front of my nightshirt up a little and had my hand between my legs. I didn't know it, but Anna was watching me. She'd figured out what I always did in my bed and she took me there that night on purpose. As I was using my fingers, she suddenly grabbed my wrist and took my hand away. When I looked, she was angry. She sniffed my hand and whispered that I was a dirty and naughty girl. Before I could even think, she was pulling me away from the shed toward the house, Ximena. She didn't make a sound until we were inside again, and then she whispered that she knew what to do with a slut like me. When we got to our bedroom, she made me pull my nightshirt off or she said that she'd rip it right off me, and then I could explain it to Papa how it had gotten torn. I didn't know what to do. She told me that I needed my ass slapped, as she said it, and then she told me to get on my knees over the footstool and when I did, she told me that I had better be quiet or she'd think of something terrible for me to do. She had always made me do things when we were younger, like kiss a frog or a cow's nose. It always made her laugh at me afterward. That night, she started to spank me really hard, and I began to cry because it stung so bad and I was ashamed, but Anna didn't care. She told me that it was for my own good - that she was trying to keep me from becoming a whore, so I felt guilty - really guilty." Sabrina looked over at Ximena and shrugged as she blinked through her glasses, "I hardly ever got to go anywhere in town, only to the market or the store and back. I didn't even know what a whore was. I only remembered the word from school, when a few of the boys whispered about Penny Harrison's mother. " "Go on, Sabrina," Ximena whispered just as quietly, though Sabrina could detect just a little urgency in it and saw that her friend had adjusted her position a little so that she could sit farther back on her haunches. "She slapped my ass hard for a long time as I cried quietly. I was so ashamed, Ximena. I just cried and cried. Anna had to switch hands every once in a while, and sometimes she hit me a lot lower. It really hurt, and I almost cried out, but Anna pulled my hair and told me to keep my mouth shut. When she got tired of it, I felt her put her legs on either side of me as though I was a hobby horse, and then I felt her begin to rub herself along my back. She made some noises that sounded like a pig to me then and I wanted to laugh, but I was still crying and I didn't dare. Sabrina stopped abruptly then, and Ximena looked over, "What's wrong?" Sabrina leaned forward a little more, "You're playing with yourself now aren't you, Ximena?" Ximena wanted to deny it and started to shake her head, but Sabrina smiled, "I know that you are. It's alright, Ximena. I'm happy to tell you -- only you. I've never told this to anyone before. It's all the truth, and if it makes you want to please yourself a little, then I'm glad to tell you of it." Ximena sighed and nodded, "I can't help it, Sabrina. I don't even know why, but hearing this makes me, ..." "I know," Sabrina whispered, "I think that it's because you're a dirty, naughty girl, ... just like me," she grinned a little, and Ximena chuckled quietly and nodded. "Please, I've just got to hear the end of this now. What happened then?" Sabrina tried her best to look a little sad and serious. She tried to remember how she'd felt that night so that she could put as much of the shame that she'd felt in her voice as she could. "Well, "she whispered, "then, my sister told me to sit up on my knees. She pulled her own nightshirt off and sat on the edge of her bed and told me to come closer. I did, but she wanted me even closer. I moved a little at a time, because I was afraid of what she would make me do, but finally, I was close enough so that all that I could see in front of me was her cunny, and Anna grabbed my head and pulled my face against her. I was terrified, but then her voice changed a little and she told me to lick her there." A tiny moan escaped Ximena's mouth, but she caught herself and stared, "What did you do, Sabrina? That must have been terrible!" "It was," the girl nodded, "It was awful, but I did it. I licked her there until she almost cried out while she was rubbing herself against my face pretty hard. But then she stopped suddenly and just held me there for a bit until her breathing was quieter. Then she told me to get into my bed and never tell anyone what I'd done, because I was just a nasty, dirty girl. Stormfeather Ch. 12 So I got into my bed. It didn't take long for Anna to fall asleep. I waited then until I heard her breathing go deeper and then she began to snore. Anna has always snored so loud that it kept me from falling asleep a lot of nights, but there was nothing that I could ever do about it. That night, I couldn't wait for it, Ximena. I played with myself for hours. It felt so good." Ximena moaned and her eyes closed for a second, but then they opened. She didn't feel badly about what she was doing at all right then. Sabrina was telling her the story because of what they seemed to share, and it made the whole thing rather delicious now. But still, she had to know more. "It, - it did? Why?" "Well, I don't feel this way anymore, but at the time, I knew that I'd done something so awful that it surely must be a sin and I was stuck with it -- I could never tell the padre about it the next time that I went to confession. I'd just die then if I did that," Sabrina said looking off into space for a moment. She came back to herself and looked down, "It was bad enough as it was, every other time that I went to confession." "What do you mean?" Ximena asked. "Ever since I was about thirteen or fourteen, I always felt a little funny whenever I was there saying my confession to the padre for all of the usual things because even though the confessional is always dark, I always felt humiliated to tell of my sins -- and I'm old enough now to wonder why I did. I never did anything bad, Ximena. Sometimes I didn't have anything to confess, so I would tell a fib by admitting to telling a fib -- that had never happened. The whole thing is stupid for me. I've given up now; I'll let God decide what to do with me." Sabrina noticed that Ximena now sat still, so she reached over and took Ximena's hand. "Keep going, Ximena," she said, "you look so beautiful like this." The housekeeper looked for a moment and then she began to move her hand under the table again. "Anyway," Sabrina smiled, "it felt so good to be playing with myself that night that it was almost as though I was doing my own penance- for me and nobody else. Because even though she's my own sister, and I'd never even thought about doing anything like that -- and I sure didn't want to, ..." Sabrina shrugged, still smiling, "I realized that I liked doing that. I just hate my sister for making me do it that way, and I hated how her bush was so thick. But I did like it, Ximena, because I was forced to do that for her. What my brother did was even worse." Ximena's fingers were already flying again, but her eyes opened in surprise at that point, "What? -- Wha-?" "The two of them had been fooling around carefully with each other for a few years by then. I knew it, but I didn't tell on them because you're supposed to love your brother and sister. That's what I was told when I was little. I didn't tell on them because I loved them, but it got me nothing, and they told lies about me all the time. They had so much fun watching me being punished for what they did and then blamed me for. I don't love them anymore. I loathe the two of them. I am angry with my parents. They never believed anything that I said -- they just took my sister's word as though she could be trusted, and they never allowed me to even speak of anything that I wanted to do when I grew up, as though I was not supposed to ever manage anything for myself. That's what made me decide to come with Amy and Arn on such short notice. It's the real reason that I said what I did to Amy. I'm never going back there, no matter what. I don't care what I have to do, Ximena -- I'm never going home ever again. I found out that I like to do certain things, and I can even see that there really isn't all that much wrong -- if anything that I did was. I just don't want to do that for them. If it's supposed to feel good, well I like that, but not to be forced by people who are supposed to love me. Not by my family. I'd rather do that for someone who cares about me. Anna told Enrique what had happened as soon as he got home, and not long after, the first chance he got, he made me suck him until he squirted that stuff of his into my mouth while Anna watched at the door. I couldn't swallow it all, and I had to try, he said, or he would slap me harder than Anna ever could. I did my best, but it got everywhere -- even in my hair. He showed me how to slide my hand on him there and when he got it hard again, he -- " "My god," Ximena gasped, "he didn't..." "In my ass," Sabrina nodded, "every time. He knew that he was hurting me and he didn't care. He didn't dare do it in my front, because I might get pregnant, and anyway, I'd lose my virginity that way. It's a little hard to explain that away if I've never been anywhere but at home, isn't it? I couldn't even go to confession alone. Papa always had Enrique take me, so who else could it possibly be if not him? So he'd always fuck me in my ass, and he was always mean about it. He made it hurt so bad. Sometimes my parents would go to visit with relatives, and then both of them would use me, sometimes at once. Enrique loved to hold my head so that my face was against Anna's bush tightly and I had to lick her while they kissed each other, or he'd fuck me while Anna forced me to lick her at the same time. Other times, Anna would hold her tits together so that he could slide his thing between them, and when he was finished, I was the one who had to clean her up with my tongue while he slapped my ass so that it was red." Ximena was so near the edge now. Sabrina smiled as she watched her work. She leaned her head on her hand and smiled for a moment because she could see that Ximena had liked to hear it all. She quietly stood up and stepped over to Ximena, who watched her come to her. Sabrina touched Ximena's head very softly and bent down a little, sliding her hand into Ximena's dress and over one of her breasts as Ximena gasped. As her fingers found Ximena's nipple, she looked into the other woman's eyes, "I hate them all for it," she said almost absently, "though I am glad that hearing it makes you this excited. That makes me happy. I'm so glad that I'm away from there and that I've found you, since I think that we can have a lot of fun doing this the right way, Ximena. I really hope so. I never, ever told either of them, but after a while I loved every second of what they did to me. I just never showed it to them. It felt so good once I got used to it, and if I got the chance to ease my conscience to myself alone in my bed afterwards, I was happy then." She kissed Ximena, more because she was a kindred soul than anything else just as she squeezed her nipple. Ximena's moan went into Sabrina's mouth. The sound still came through her nose, but it didn't matter. They were quiet about it as she held her new friend tightly until they'd ridden through Ximena's shuddering together. --------------------- They slowed to a trot as they neared the river. Winky panted, but didn't seem too much the worse for wear as she looked at them, feeling as though they had all shared something special. She loved to be included in anything that they could all do together and that was easily seen in her expression. "What now?" Amy asked. "We wait here for a moment until Winky has her breath," he said, "and I want you to tell me now -- what can you hear?" Amy listened, trying to filter out Winky's panting, "I hear crickets and katydids," she said, "I can hear the night birds." "And?" "And I can hear a lot of little things scratching in the dirt, field mice, I think, coming out to look for food in the dark." She paused, listening carefully. "There is a family of raccoons not far from here. Over that way," she pointed, "How's that?" "Good enough," Arn smiled for a moment, "but do you hear anything that you should not be hearing?" Amy thought for a moment, "No." "Correct," he said, "Often it is what you should not be hearing when and where you are that signals danger." He pointed to their companion, "She is listening just as you were now. She always listens, and then she tests the smell of the breeze. I think that you already know that there are wild roses not far off, and nothing much of anything more. You need to test the wind as well." He looked across the water, "The stream here appears slow, but I do not wish for Winky to get into trouble when she swims across." "I don't know if I want to swim across either," Amy commented quietly as she put her arm around his waist. "You will not have to," Arn grinned, "unless you do not believe that you are what you are now." He pointed across from where they stood, "That looks to be an island." "It is," she remembered, "It's not much more than a sandbar that's grown up enough for grasses to grow on it." "But the sand there is solid?" he asked. "Yeah," Amy replied, "I've ridden across on Ruby and used it as a stepping stone to get to the other bank before. The current is slow here, but it's narrower on the other side and it flows a lot faster there. It's about sixty feet to the island sand from here. About thirty-five from the opposite bank to the far shore." Arn nodded, stepping back a little. He ran toward the bank and jumped with a bounding leap to land on the sand of the small island. Winky stared for only a moment before she ran into the stream and began to swim to him. She waded onto the shore, shook herself off, and Arn fussed over her for a minute. Amy stood astounded. "Hellfire," she said, "I can do that?" "I hope so," he smiled, "you would make a poor traveler otherwise." Amy muttered a curse under her breath at the way that he was standing there, as though it ought to be as nothing to her to jump clear across that water. She turned to walk back to where she'd seen him begin his run. It didn't look long enough, so she walked back a little more and looked again. "Well Holy Humphrey," she said to herself as she remembered Sabrina's expression. Amy drew a breath and ran. When she got near to the spot from where Arn had jumped, Amy tried to shift her stride a little. Her leap was as strong as she could make it, though she knew that she'd lost a little momentum for her adjustment. The dark night-time horizon shifted for a moment as she gained altitude. And then as she reached the apex of her leap, she groaned inwardly. She watched the water rising toward her. Winky ran to the water's edge, peering out into the darkness where she'd seen Amy land. The stream had closed over Amy and the signs of her splash were gone in an instant. The river smoothed out and just flowed on as though nothing had happened. Arn waited, looking at the water. After about ten seconds, he began to grow a little concerned. He didn't know what the bottom there was like and wondered if she'd hit her head on a rock. He took a step forward. Amy shot out of the river, clearing Winky by about three feet to crash right onto Arn's chest, bowling him over backward. She hung onto what she could of him and they tumbled back in a large ball to stop in the tall grasses with her straddling his chest. As their combined motion stopped, she found herself bent over him for just an instant with her chest against his face. As she sat up, he looked up into her glowing eyes and listened to her deep breaths as she drew air in. "You -- " she gasped with her ribs heaving, "You're gonna pay for that." He chuckled, "You changed your stride as you jumped." "I don't care," she grinned down at him evilly as she dripped onto him, "You knew that I'd do that, didn't you?" He shook his head, smiling, "No." "Then why are you grinning at me like that?" she asked with a low growl. "I did not know that you would do that," he smiled, "I only hoped that you would." "Well you got your wish," she snarled quietly, pulling some form of aquatic plant life off her snout to discard it. "That's why it's gonna cost you." She slid herself forward on him and reached for his head, "And right here is where you start paying." Winky watched for a minute before she turned away to make certain that they were alone here and unobserved. She looked off into the darkness as far as she could see, turning her head a little as she did, trying to hear sounds which might be a little out of the ordinary in a place like this. She saw nothing and heard only the occasional soft sigh from Amy. ------------------- When Sabrina pulled away to stand up, she found Ximena smiling at her a little. The housekeeper slid her arm around Sabrina's neck and pulled her down a little to hug her. "My god, Sabrina," she whispered, "I'm so confused now. But I know that I like this," she said as she kissed the smaller woman's cheek and let her go. "Please sit down again," she said as she stood up and straightened her dress, "I find that I love talking with you, and I think that we'll be left to ourselves for the rest of the evening, so we can do that. Unless a war breaks out or the old place bursts into flames, I'm off at nine." She stepped away and returned to fill their goblets with wine again. "I'm so happy that Maeve seems to be better -- almost as though nothing had happened at all. And I know the old girl very well, Sabrina. In about another day, she'll deny that anything was wrong with her at all. I could already see the beginning of that when I was up there." She took out a saucepan, went to the ice box and poured from a pitcher of milk. Setting it on the stove, she took out a bottle and set that on the counter. "Maeve likes her warm milk at this time of night to help her drift off to sleep." Noticing Sabrina's gaze at the bottle, Ximena flashed a tiny grin, "For as long as I've been the housekeeper here," she said, "old Maeve has insisted on a tipple of brandy in her warm milk every night -- and you ought to see the way that she winks when she asks for it and says that it's for medicinal purposes." "Now where were we?" she asked Sabrina. "I was going to ask you if you've ever had anything happen to you like what happened to me," Sabrina said. Ximena shook her head, "No, I can't say that I have, really. Not like that. About the closest thing was my being so naive and innocent when I was a lot younger. I fell in love with a boy and I thought that we would get married and live happily like in the tales that I was told as a child. He told me that he loved me and I believed him." She sighed and shook her head, "I was such a young fool. I gave him everything I had, I went to bed with him, and after giving him that, I watched as he went his way as though it meant nothing to him -- because it didn't. He told a friend, and that began it in that little place. Where I grew up, word like that getting around ruined my reputation in a day, and in three, even my parents had heard of it. The yelling and screaming that I had to endure, and how it hurt me when my mother slapped me and what she said, ..." "She slapped you right across your breasts, didn't she?" Sabrina asked quietly. "Yes," the other woman stared, "How did you know that?" Sabrina nodded, "That was where my mother always slapped me once I had anything there to slap. Go on, Ximena, as long as we're baring our souls to one another, I'm with you. We seem to be the same. I'd even bet that she called you a slut when she did that, too." She watched as Ximena nodded, "That seemed to be my new name to my parents. My aunt had worked here for Maeve for many years and she found a man who she wanted to retire with. She'd always loved me dearly since I was little, and when she'd heard what had happened, she was furious with her sister. She wasn't old, only in her early forties, but she'd saved about every nickel of her pay, and her man was rich himself. They were married and I still get postcards from them from the strangest places -- all over -- so I know that they're happy, and that's what I'm going to do myself one day. In the meantime before she left, I was brought here to learn how to run this house and work in her place so that my parents could tell the lie that I'd married a man far from the village where I was born. I've never been back, and now that I'm older, if I ever laid eyes on them again, I'm pretty sure that I'd spit in their faces for what they'd put me through. I was upset enough and heartbroken as it was." She looked toward the darkened window for a moment, "I guess that's when I found myself growing a little - excited. When they howled at me for days on end over what I'd done to ruin THEIR reputation by ruining my own." She sighed, "And all that I'd done was fall in love and it didn't work for me." She shook her head, "Amy shot a man through the eye and she got away with it." "I know," Sabrina said, "I was there that day, on the boardwalk across the street. I saw it all. She was about forty feet away from him and she warned him. Everybody heard it. He drew down on her and - " She made the motions of drawing a pistol, "Bang. Just like that." She laughed, "When she comes into Portales now, all she has to do is have that old cannon strapped to her leg. If her hand even brushes against it, Ximena, everybody just begins to back away." Ximena nodded, and looked at the pan. She stirred the milk a little and took the pan off the stove for a moment while she carefully poured some brandy into a large ceramic tankard. "I'm a little afraid," Sabrina admitted, "I mean, I don't want to look like a girl just off the farm here. You and Amy just look like a part of life in this place, but I feel ..." "I know how you feel," Ximena said, "I felt just the same way when I first arrived here. I come from a tiny village. The feeling will pass, and you'll learn the fashions here. This is a great place for it, because Santa Fe has so much of our culture. Amy and I can help, so you needn't worry, and I'll show you the best stores and places around here." -------------- Winky had loved the game of chase as the three of them waded back from the little island to begin it in the grass along the shore. They thought that they could hide themselves from her nose, the thought came to her, but they couldn't. She'd know the scents of the other members of her little pack anywhere. It was even easier because of their mating just before. But at the same time, Winky found that she couldn't get away from them either, though she tried. Sooner or later, one of them would come sniffing through the grasses no matter how carefully she'd tried to remain quiet and slink away. It always ended up in the same way that delighted her so much. Once one of them always found the one who was hiding, and they always ended up in a ball of happy tussling fur. "Have I told you that I love you today?" Amy smiled as they stood near the tree where their clothing was hidden. "Many times, Sheena," he replied as he held her to him, "and I never tire of hearing it or answering you. But I know that you say this now to avoid the next task that I will set for you." Amy chuckled a little and nodded, "Well, I tried." "Jump up now and hang onto the branch," he said, "Wait until you are not swinging at all, and pull yourself up so that you sit on the bough where our clothes are." He looked up as Amy did as he asked, and he saw her smirk then as she took only her own clothes, setting his back on the bough before she jumped back down. "Get your own," she smiled. "I am not the one who said that I would need something else to wear in this place," he smiled back, "I am quite comfortable in a breech-cloth. Your great aunt might not approve but -- " Amy landed again and threw his clothes in his face. "Fine," she said, "you've got a point." They walked into the kitchen with Winky and Amy asked Ximena for a pitcher of wine. "Only about half-full, please. I don't know what he might turn into after a bit of that, so I'm going to play it safe." Stormfeather Ch. 12 When she held the goblets and the pitcher in her hands, Amy grinned at her friends, "I'm taking him to bed now. Goodnight." They answered her and she looked at Arn, "C'mon, Handsome," and with that, the two women were alone again. -------------- "I'm really sorry about spilling the wine," Sabrina said a little carefully. Ximena set the brandy bottle down and looked off into space for a moment. "No you're not," she said. Sabrina watched as the housekeeper poured the milk from the saucepan into the tankard. She stirred it carefully and set it down on the table. As soon as her hands were free, Ximena grabbed a handful of Sabrina's hair and forced her to look at the stain on the white tablecloth. "Red wine," she said coldly, "on a white linen tablecloth, the finest white Belgian linen that I can find in all of Santa Fe, because Maeve insists on it -- even here on the kitchen table. You do not wish to know how much I paid for it, because for a simple and elegant piece of linen, the price was obscene, but that is what Maeve demands." "I'm sorry for being so clumsy," Sabrina offered quietly. Ximena's eyes blazed, "You might have been told that by your bumpkin relatives, Sabrina, but that excuse will not pass with me. I see grace in all of your movements. Your posture needs a little work, but you are not clumsy in the least. I do not allow clumsy oafs here in MY kitchen. I run this whole house from right here. I rule here." She forced Sabrina to turn her head so that she could glare into those soft and nervously blinking brown eyes, though she said nothing for a long moment. "I will now go up the stairs to see to Maeve. I'll take her to the commode if that is her wish, and give her her little bedtime drink here." She leaned down suddenly and kissed Sabrina hard -- full on the lips - as savagely as she could manage for just a moment before she pulled back and softened her voice just a touch. "If you are truly sorry," she said with the beginnings of a half-whisper, "you will go to your room and remove your pants, and then you will come back here wearing only that blouse with nothing under it, and your half-stockings if you have any. You said that you were wearing a dress the day that you left Portales, so I assume that you have stockings. You will fill that large basin with the warm water from the tank by the stove over there, and you will moisten the wine stain a little before you sprinkle salt from that canister over there on the stain. It has likely been far too long to save the tablecloth, but you will do it anyway." Ximena felt her arousal beginning for the third time that day as she smiled coldly, though with just a little hint of warmth. "I have never done that before," she said, meaning the force of the kiss, but not saying the rest, "Did you enjoy my kiss?" Sabrina blinked her wide and slightly frightened- looking eyes through the discomfort of having her hair pulled tight and she nodded slowly and groaned quietly. "Good," Ximena said, "because I don't like or want to kiss other women. But I have decided that I like kissing you like that. When I return, I will find you here, waiting like the good girl that you wish to be so much for me." Sabrina opened her mouth slowly and Ximena watched as she ran the tip of her tongue around her lips for a moment, "But --but Ximena, ... someone might see me like that." Sabrina saw the other's smile, and almost ached for another kiss like the one that had stolen her breath as Ximena said, "In the first place, Sabrina, I do not really care if you are seen half-dressed in here. You shouldn't have spilled your wine deliberately like that on an expensive piece of linen." She reached with her left hand and touched Sabrina's cheek, "Maeve cannot come downstairs without help. There are no other servants here now in the whole house, and our friends are very busy now, doing what one might expect newlyweds to be doing." She leaned in suddenly and took Sabrina's mouth again, just as savagely as before, but this time, she forced her tongue between Sabrina's lips and thrashed the soft tongue that hers found for a moment, thrilling to hear the quiet moan that Sabrina had no choice in. "If you are not here when I return," she said a little sadly, "then I will know that you do not want my help for what you said to me and do not wish to be my good girl for me when it is your turn to be. You will never touch me again after that if that happens and I will clean your mess up myself. It is your choice," she said as she took the tankard and walked out of the room. As she heard Ximena's footsteps fade up the stairs, Sabrina waited in a little disbelief. When she heard the footsteps reach the top floor and begin to walk along the richly polished flooring, she jumped up and ran to her room to tear off her pants. She couldn't help herself and reached down to find that she was already almost sopping. She wanted to touch herself -- she almost needed to. Under other circumstances, she'd begin to caress her lips and reach for her clitoris in a moment, but she decided to wait, hoping that the anticipation would build on how she felt. -------------------- Ximena had her own struggles going on. This was all so strange for her, but she'd enjoyed their interactions so much -- from either side of it - that she felt herself compelled to see where this went now. She'd been at a bit of a low point in her love life for the past year since her last male admirer had worn out his welcome with her, not that she particularly wanted any sort of romance with Sabrina. At least she didn't think that she did. But what they'd both done had excited her so much, it almost defied belief. Maeve was awake in her bed and reading. Ximena still couldn't believe it. Even though the old girl was obviously tired now, she could see that the twinkle was back in her eyes as she said that she didn't need help with her chamber pot and thanked Ximena for the nightcap. Ximena was still thinking about how good it was to have Maeve back as she rounded the landing for the second floor and heard the sounds coming from Amy's bedroom. Ximena smiled to herself. She could get a little loud herself in her passion now and then, but it sounded to her like Amy was sure putting her heart into it. She almost wanted to try to have a peek through the keyhole, but she remembered that the bed in that room was not visible from there, and that the floor creaked if one stood right near the threshold. And besides, they'd taken the wolf into the room with them. So she carried on down the stairs with a small grin on her face for her friend. When she reached the ground floor, Ximena resisted the urge to run into the kitchen, going instead to her own room in a hurry. With the door closed behind her, she got out of her bloomers and pulled her knickers off, before sitting down in front of her mirror as she reached for her small scissors. She remembered what Sabrina had said about what she'd been forced to do for her older sister and decided that there was no need to make what she had in mind any more unpleasant than it had to be. Besides, she thought as she carefully trimmed her pubic hair as quickly and carefully as she could, she hadn't had a real need to do this for a while, and she knew that left untended, she could grow quite a thatch of her own. She stood up a few minutes later and smoothed her dress down. ---------------------- Amy lifted her head from the pillow to admire Arn as he lay on his back. She smiled a little to herself as she reached out to let her fingers slide into his hair for a moment. The motion caused him to turn his face toward her and they looked at each other for a long moment. There didn't seem to be anything that either of them needed to say, beyond what their eyes told each other. She put her leg over him and pulled herself against his side, rubbing her mound against his hip for a few minutes as he smiled at her and kissed her now and then. Amy allowed herself to get to a certain point and then she rolled onto him. She pulled herself higher on him and began to make love to him in her way. She began with a few soft and light kisses, telling him how she loved him so, and then she eased her head beside his and told him again, dragging her lips against the rim of his ear so that he'd shiver. "You're the most gorgeous, handsome male of any kind that I've ever seen in my whole life," she whispered, "and I think that now I need for you to be this close to me so that I can even breathe. I don't know if I could live if I couldn't smell your skin -- or your fur for much more than a minute." She felt the pressure of his erection as it tried to rise, but was blocked by her body. Amy lifted herself enough and reached down between them to help it onto his hard lower belly before she lowered herself back onto him carefully so that she could begin to move against it just a little. Letting her legs slip off on either side of him, she began to kiss and tease him, nipping here and there as she went. "Hellfire," she whispered hoarsely, "I even need to taste you now," She found that she couldn't help herself as she went over him, licking here and sucking for a moment there. When she felt one of his nipples under the edge of her lower lip, she opened her mouth and plunged down onto it, sucking so that he had to inhale from the sensation. Amy loved it when he did that. She gurgled quietly in her throat for a moment as she worked her tongue against that nipple. The tip of her nose found itself in the tiny little valley formed by the scar of one of the age-old arrow wounds which had almost killed him. The thought of something like that happening to him now -- even though he'd likely laugh as he pulled out the offending arrow -- caused her eyes to well instantly, but she pushed the thought far from her mind and kept suckling on him in a bit of happy pleasure. She left the nipple in a moment to migrate a little farther on him and she dragged her teeth over the ridges of his abdomen. She almost wanted to laugh in a little joy when she clamped down gently with her teeth. He always smelled so damn good, so intoxicatingly wonderful, and she felt her lips pull back into a smile as she allowed a pleasant thought to come to her as she wandered a little over to his side so as not to neglect the smaller muscle groups there. She stopped just as she felt him begin to flinch and she worked her way back to his stomach, almost like a small toddler who had wandered just a little too far as a test of her mother's authority and before she'd gone too far, she scampered back with a giggle. This had been something like that, she realized. If she'd have gone on like that for much longer, then Arn would have begun to laugh and that wouldn't do at all -- not for what she had in mind. The same thought came to her again after a minute more of trying to grab what she could of his abdominal muscles in her teeth, and she admitted that the thought was just as correct as it had seemed to her before. Right here on him, just in this place alone -- though there were many others -- well, ... Amy felt as though she could live right here, as long as she was this close to his heart. She lifted herself again to allow his penis room and partly so that she could move one of her own nipples against the tip. This was one of the few good points about her smallish breasts, she told herself. She could always be fairly certain just exactly where her nipples were going to be. As she felt him swell a little in response to what she was doing, she realized that he'd told her enough times already how much he liked them to at least begin to overshadow what she'd always told herself about them. She felt a renewed flood of wetness as she remembered how he loved to make love to just her breasts. She'd have thought that he could complete whatever circumnavigation that he'd wanted to in about a twenty second span of time. But Stormfeather had spent hours on each one before and liked to do that just as often as she'd' let him -- which was rather often -- even by her own standards. At length, Amy had worked her way to his wonderful manhood. She spent a goodly amount of time over every detail. She'd never tell him, since it would sound silly in her own ears to hear herself say the words to him, but what she was really doing -- and she knew it full well -- was worshiping both that part and its owner. Well, it was the least that she could do for the way that he worshiped her in that one place, she thought. Finally, she found that she couldn't continue. She wanted him too much. She decided that she'd pick up where she was about to leave off very soon as she licked everywhere that she could on just that one part of him, depositing as much of her saliva as she possibly could before she raised herself to straddle him. Hellfire, she thought, she'd been a good girl -- good enough, anyway. She deserved a good ride now. ------------------- Standing for a moment in the kitchen doorway, she found Sabrina working some salt into the linen as quickly and as carefully as she could, but they both knew that it was beyond much hope. Ximena was a bit surprised to hear Sabrina sniffling a little as she fretted. She watched Sabrina's back stiffen as she spoke in a low voice, "Stop. Just stop now. Go and wash the salt from your hands in the dishpan." Sabrina looked back, and the housekeeper's heart jumped at the timid and worried look that she saw. "I didn't tell you to look at me, I told you what I wanted you to do," she said, and Sabrina quickly scuttled to the dishpan. Ximena walked around the room, closing the curtains over the windows. When she was done, she turned to see the girl drying her hands carefully before she stood with her hands at her sides, looking at the dishpan. Ximena sat down at the table and regarded the stain. "Come here, and stand in front of me," she said, watching as Sabrina complied to stand looking down. "Don't worry too much about the cloth," she said, with the same little hint of warmth to her voice, "It will look alright after I teach you how to dye it a dark color. But do not ever do something like this again. I understand what you were trying to do, but it wasn't necessary. You could have done the same thing by only knocking over the salt shaker while you looked at me. I'd have seen it. Look at me." Sabrina raised her eyes still with her chin pointed at the floor, and Ximena wanted to kiss her for it -- for only standing there in this way. "Do you need your glasses to see well?" she asked, "What I mean is, how much do you need them to see with?" "I only need them to read with and to see things that are far away," Sabrina replied, "I always wear them because Mama and Anna told me that I should keep them on because I am so stupid that I'd probably lose them if they weren't on my nose." Ximena was astounded, "Really?" The girl nodded, "I can be a little scatterbrained sometimes. I've never lost them though." "Words like that from a mother and a sister," Ximena growled, shaking her head, "I think that I want to kill them myself now. Please take them off for a moment." When Sabrina's hands were away from her face holding the spectacles, Ximena gasped a little, "How far can you see like this clearly?" "Most of the things in this room, "Sabrina said with a shrug, "I'd never be able to see well enough to read a page of small print without holding the book close to my face, and things get a little blurry about fifty feet away." "Well, you're very lovely without them," Ximena nodded, "I think that I'll get you one of those strings to keep them around your neck for when you are teaching or doing things that require you to have them near. For now, please put them on the table." "I'm trying to decide a few things, Sabrina," she said, "Lift up the hem of your blouse. I want to see what you've got hidden there." Sabrina blushed furiously as she hesitated, but she did as she was told and the housekeeper shook her head with a smile, "Absolutely lovely," she said, "and I don't like girls, so that's a compliment that's deserved. Look at that," she smiled, "such a fat little mound and beautiful plump lips. Even nicer than my own." "Well, I'm fat," Sabrina said, though inwardly, she was thrilled that her friend seemed to like what she had. "Don't be absurd," Ximena almost snarled, "I was talking about only your mound there, nothing else. If I'm going to help you so that you feel more comfortable in Santa Fe, you have to stop running yourself down. I see it in everything that you do. What I wish to do for you has to do with you and how you see yourself. It will work for you anywhere -- not only here." She stood up and came closer, reaching to grasp the collar of the blouse gently. She turned it over in her hand and examined the stitching. "Who made this? Where did you buy it?" she asked a little carefully. "I bought it in Portales," Sabrina replied, "I didn't have money for anything better." Ximena nodded, "I'm not looking down on your clothing," she said as she turned to sit down again, "I come from a smaller place than that. I only wanted to see what I've got to work with. Take it off now and lay it over the back of that chair." Sabrina gasped and shook her head, "P-please, ... no." "DO IT!" Ximena hissed, and the girl's fingers flew to the buttons of her blouse, trembling a little. When it was off, Sabrina sobbed a little bit in humiliation as she put the blouse down. Ximena rolled her eyes as she reached for the box of cigarillos that she always kept on the sideboard. She listened to the quiet little sobs of shame that came from Sabrina as she lit one for herself. "Oh stop it, Sabrina," she said with a half-smile as she puffed to get the thing going, "Mother of God, you'd think that I was asking you to remove your own arm. I only want to admire your body for a little while, since I'm trying to get used to the idea of what you and I are thinking of doing. I can just barely smell the way that you are aroused right now and I like that I can do this for you, but I really hate the idea of being cruel to you. I really don't think that I can even learn to do that. But when we are like this, you WILL do as I tell you, alright? I do not see how it can work for us otherwise. For right now, I want you to stop feeling ashamed of your body in front of me. And get this through the poison that others have stuffed into your head, ... you are not ugly, and you are not fat. It is true that you are not thin or lithe, or bony, my girl. But you are not fat. You are made a little sturdier, but it suits you and you carry it very well. You ought to feel proud of how you are made. To me, it is very, ... sensual, as though you were made for pleasure -- or sin, if one were to ask a very righteous fool. But I know what I am looking at, and I tell you that you can be proud of yourself and forget what you have been told. All of that was a bundle of lies to make you feel badly and nothing more than that." She leaned forward and ran her fingers down over the other woman's stomach and belly. "Fat," she said, rolling her eyes again, "well I hope that you might see yourself a little clearer in the mirror without the glasses if wearing them makes you think that way. I see no fat." She placed her palm against Sabrina's belly and wiggled her hand for a moment, noting that very little moved. "This is not fat," she said honestly, "This is you, and I see nothing wrong here." She picked up Sabrina's spectacles for a moment, "Now go and take this cloth from the table, and put it in the dishpan where you washed your hands. Then take the jug of vinegar from the shelf, and pour quite a lot into the pan so that it soaks the cloth. We'll see then how much it will come clean. Be a little careful though, I want none of the vinegar on your hands." Stormfeather Ch. 12 Sabrina felt a little better and began the task that she was set as Ximena watched her body as it moved. In some ways, she was being critical in her observations, and in others, she sat in open admiration of her friend. She supposed that she owed something small to Sabrina's sister, but then she amended the thought. For what had been done to Sabrina, the bitch needed to be beaten to within an inch of her life, she decided, the brother as well. "That's good, my friend," she said at last, "now leave it in the pan for the night. I'll rinse it out and hang it tomorrow and we'll see then. For now, wash the table absolutely clean and not too much water, mind you. The poor thing's had enough to drink this evening to drown already. I do not wish for the wood to swell too much. It's only the kitchen table, but this is where I rule, and I won't have a warped table when I write my correspondence and pay what the house owes." She watched as Sabrina scrubbed and then wiped the thing carefully. While she'd never had that much of this sort of desire for other women, Ximena found that she could admire Sabrina's body for its beauty anyway, and she did feel at least a little stirring in her to see the way that the girl's haunches moved and the way that her breasts swung with her motions. She found that she really liked seeing Sabrina like this, naked except for the half-stockings on her legs. At one point, when Sabrina was near her, Ximena looked and saw the pout of Sabrina's lips between her legs from behind. She reached out to pat Sabrina's bottom a few times, stroking and caressing her so that Sabrina sighed in a little pleasure before she removed her hand a moment later in a lingering sort of way. "Did you like that, little sister?" she asked. "Uh-huh," Sabrina sighed, "very much." "Good," Ximena said, in a little of her own pleasure, "It will be hard for me to want to slap something as nice as you have there. You're doing well," she said, enjoying the pleased smile that she saw on the other one's face. "Now, what did they say to you when they humiliated you back there in that dustbowl? What did they call you?" "Most often," Sabrina said, her eyes looking down as she remembered, "they called me 'slut'." "Besides what your worthless brother and sister did to you, have you ever been intimate with anyone?" Sabrina shook her head, "No. No one ever --" "No one ever had a chance to even get close to you, "Ximena said coldly, "I see how it must have gone. Put the cloth in the sink and come back," she said. When Sabrina stepped back to stand in front of Ximena, she looked down again. "Stop that now," the housekeeper said, "For now, look straight ahead, not down." She walked around Sabrina, who wondered what would come now. "Your posture is terrible in some ways," Ximena said quietly and without malice, "You don't know how to carry yourself. It is no crime, since no one ever cared to show you. But I do, Sabrina. Stand straight." She stepped forward so that her body was against Sabrina's from behind her, and she reached for the girl's shoulders and pulled them back a bit, "Hold yourself like this now. Try to remember this position, alright?" "Yes," the girl almost sighed at Ximena's touch. Ximena stepped in front of her and smiled, as she lifted Sabrina's chin a little higher, "That's much better, my lovely friend. A woman who has beauties like these," she said, as she gently lifted Sabrina's breasts, swirling her thumbs over the large nipples so that Sabrina gasped, "has nothing in the world to feel ashamed about in the least. This is much better, don't you think? It feels better like this, when you stand as though you have nothing to feel badly about, doesn't it?" "Yes," Sabrina smiled a little, "very much." "You see?" Ximena grinned, "Such a little thing, and it can make all the difference to how one feels. And how a person feels inside has an effect on how they project themselves onto the world around them. It makes a definite difference in the way that she is treated by the others in that world." She walked to the table and turned around. "I have decided how I will go about this, Sabrina," she said with a slightly hopeful smile which startled the other woman a little. "I have decided that I wish to try this with you, but while I think that I'd like to be shown a little hardness and discipline by you when it is my turn, I have no wish to be treated badly. If you think that you can do that, then what I want to do is teach you the things that you need in order to be treated better and to have more confidence in yourself. I can do this easily for you, though some of the lessons will involve a little effort to change, and I plan to do this with the same hardness and discipline. I will never mistreat you -- ever, and I expect the same from you. This all means that I will have to do things which I would never even consider otherwise, but I'll have to learn I guess, since I don't expect anything other than equal treatment. One of the first things that I wish to change is the meaning of one word between us, only you and I. The word 'slut' has a dirty meaning to most people, but if you think about it, a slut is a woman who knows what it is that she wants for her pleasure and moves to obtain it. I see nothing at all wrong with that. Removing the nasty connotation, that is exactly what I am -- and what you will be as well. Can you see it that way?" Sabrina thought about it and nodded with a small smile, "Yes." "Good," Ximena sighed, "so if I use that word between us, then I wish for you to know that from me, it is a compliment, and not a slur. Never a slur. I will never call you a nasty slut or a dirty slut, since I'd never let someone like that near me. Between us, I want this word to be a nice thing. Now, come here, please." Sabrina stepped forward with a look that spoke of her hopeful curiosity, and they looked at each other for a moment before Ximena spoke again. "If this is what you wish for with me," she said, "then please kneel for me. Sit up on your knees." Sabrina knelt and looked up. "Well that is too far away," Ximena grinned, "unless you are truly gifted. Come a little closer." As Sabrina moved so that her knees touched the hem of the housekeeper's dress, Ximena lifted the hem of her dress and Sabrina gasped to see that her friend wore nothing under her dress. "Please, Sabrina," she sighed, "if you want this and my teaching, then if it is not too much trouble, please show me that you will be my willing student." Sabrina looked at Ximena's mound there at the junction of her long legs for a moment. This was something completely new for her. She was being given a choice. She could feel the warmth and the gentle scent came to her that told her that Ximena was just as hopeful as she was in this. She didn't know exactly where this would lead, but she knew that she wanted it for once. She reached her hands out to caress Ximena's thighs and leaned forward a little as she extended her tongue. Ximena gasped as Sabrina's tongue parted her lips a little, but to her slightly astonished surprise, she felt the soft pressing kisses which came right afterward and in that instant, she knew that this was something which had never been given to Sabrina's cruel sister. Those kisses were what melted her, not from the sensations which came to her from them, though they were nice enough. It was the gentle emotion that the gesture carried and her interpretation was that this was Sabrina's way to indicate her agreement and her submission in this, even though she was the active one for the moment. She changed her stance slightly to allow Sabrina better access to her and she took a larger gathering of her dress in her left hand so that she could caress Sabrina's head. After a moment, she watched as Sabrina's soft and lovely brown eyes lifted to gaze into her own. She sighed then, knowing at once that her pupil was going at this in such a gentle way that none of the men that she'd had in that place on her had ever even come close to being able to do for her. For a moment, she felt her abdominal muscles flutter a little and she groaned so that it ended in a whisper, "Ohhh Sabrina, ..." The eyes which she saw regarding her smiled in their own pleasure, and Sabrina leaned in even closer so that she could slowly slide her tongue into Ximena as deeply as she possibly could in this position and the quiet little moan that came from her lifted Ximena's heart to hear it. She allowed Sabrina to continue for a few moments more and then told her to stand again. Sabrina was disappointed and thought that her friend hadn't enjoyed her attentions. "Please, Ximena," she almost pleaded, "I - I can do better. Please, give me another try at it." But Ximena only beckoned for her to stand as she smiled, "I had to stop you, little sister. I couldn't stand any more like that. You did nothing wrong, but to do that for me as I stand, you must be even softer and not go inside me much." She reached for the girl's shoulders and pulled her closer so that she could kiss her softly for a moment, tasting herself on those lips, and deciding that it wasn't what she'd expected. "That was only for you to tell me that you accept me and what I offer. You will have another chance to be my sweet little slut, I promise this to you. Now come, and bring your glasses and your blouse." ----------------- Arn looked up at his Sheena in open admiration of the way that she moved as she rode him. It was as though she was performing a dance for him just where she was. For the longest time, she wouldn't let him touch her with his hands. When he'd asked her why, she'd looked at him in a little surprise and just said, "Because I only want you to watch me, Arn. I'm doing this for us both, but like this, I'm doing this just for you, only for you to watch because I know that you like to watch me." She smiled at him for a moment and then she'd closed her eyes, as she moved, never lifting herself much at all, but only moving herself to some sweet rhythm that she felt inside herself. Amy raised her arms above her head and humped against him, grinding a little every once in a while. She danced in this slow cadence of hers, sliding her hands over her own breasts and caressing her belly low down to tease herself exquisitely. When she did that, he could feel it as she clenched onto him then and her mouth opened a little in such a sweet and hungry way. When she pinched her nipples, he thrilled to see her head go back as she inhaled, or sometimes she only opened her eyes to look at him so beautifully that he thought that his heart would fail, the way that it seemed to leap inside of him. "Do you know what you are making me feel when you do that?" he asked. "A little," she sighed in an almost primal and very quietly musical sort of way, "I'm doing what feels good to me, and I'm watching you and feeling how you react inside me as I do it. This is for you, baby," she whispered, "only for you. Nobody else will ever know the way that I will how to please you. From what you told me, we've got all the time in the world to love each other. This is my way to make love to you tonight, because that's just what I'm doing, and I've only just started." She slipped her finger down between them for a moment and bringing it to her lips, she licked and sucked for a second. "Mmmm," she groaned, "do as I did. We taste so good together." ------------------ Ximena held out a box of matches. "Please light the lamp." As Sabrina struck the match, the housekeeper walked to the other door in the room and opened it. When the lamp flared to life bathing the room in a soft glow, Ximena told her to roll the wick back a little so that it wasn't burning brightly. "Now go and do the same for the lamp in my room there." "Your room?" Sabrina asked. "Yes," Ximena said as she took her dress and bustier off, "our rooms share this door between them." Sabrina lit the lamp in the other room and came back, setting the matches down on a night table. Ximena sat down on the edge of a love-seat. "Come here, and lie across my lap." "But," Sabrina hesitated, "I thought, ... " "Don't think about it for too long, little sister," Ximena smiled, "what was before in the kitchen was to correct you. It does nothing to absolve you of what was done to ruin the tablecloth. That is what we will do now. The longer you take, ..." Sabrina walked over and complied. She was a little fearful, but at the same time, she was already growing to trust Ximena and in any event, she was very wet. Ximena didn't make a big production out of it. She only slapped Sabrina's backside about thirty times, alternating sides, the last ten strokes as hard as she could while the girl across her thighs whimpered softly. "Don't ever do anything like that again," the housekeeper said, trying to hide the roughness in her voice which surprised her, "We can come up with other, less damaging things between us if you wish for me to do this for you." She felt her hand throbbing and only wondered how the poor girl's ass must feel now. "Did I do that well for you?" Sabrina sniffled once and nodded as she squeezed her thighs together again and again. Ximena began to stroke the girl's bottom softly. "Can you feel that? Am I helping now?" "Mm-hmm," Sabrina sighed. Ximena watched spellbound as Sabrina's thighs worked. She could feel a little of the heat of the soft twin moons in front of her as she caressed them. "I know that you need this," she said, "though I'll have to learn to do this with a little less feeling on my part. You have such a nice ass, little sister." "Thank you," Sabrina whispered, still clenching her thighs, "for everything." "Poor darling," Ximena cooed quietly as her fingers came a little closer to those swollen lips with every circular sweep of her hand, "please do not ever make me angry enough to want to use my hairbrush on this. I think that would be cruel." Her fingertips just brushed lightly against Sabrina's lips and Ximena was a little surprised at how the girl had almost jumped at the touch. "More?" She asked. "Mm-hm," came the response. "More palm on your ass or more fingertips?" Ximena asked, feeling her own lips as she moved. "Fingers," the small voice whispered, "only if you forgive me for what I did." Ximena sighed as she slid one finger inside, "I forgive you, little sister," she said, careful to brush against the little nub that she felt, "I feel as though I am your proper big sister like this. I will never be cruel to you. No sister could remain angry with one such as you, Sabrina." She pulled her hand back and entered again with two fingers, twisting so that the knuckle of her middle finger pressed against the bump. Sabrina bucked and shook, doing her best to keep her mouth out of the equation, "Nnn-nnnn-OHhhhh." Ximena smiled at how little it had taken to get this result. "Come and sit on my knee when you are ready, Sabrina," she smiled, "You're such a good girl. I could never stay angry with you for very long." Slowly, Sabrina moved and the other woman withdrew her fingers. "Did I do that well for you?" Ximena smiled. "Yes," Sabrina said, a little brightly, "thank you so much." Ximena put her arm around the other woman's shoulders and smiled as she said, "Open your legs a little bit. I believe that punishment by itself is worthless. A reward at the right time such as this will go farther." They sat together as Ximena whispered to Sabrina and her fingers slid over the girl's wet and pouting lips. "I will teach you everything, Sabrina, how to dress and how to walk, how to dance and how to talk. You must listen and do as I tell you, and when I am finished, I promise that you will be a beautiful woman who feels perfectly at home in any situation. You will know how to talk to men, and by the end, you will have had more than a few in your bed so that you may make the best choice from among those will would gladly lay their hearts at your feet." "But," Sabrina looked into her teacher's eyes, "I am a virgin. I am supposed to keep myself intact for my husband." Ximena smirked, though it was obvious to Sabrina that it wasn't directed at her, "That is the lie that is told to girls, little sister. That is said so that you will not be able to know the difference between a good man and a terrible lover. Let me tell you the truth. A man who has had a few women knows and appreciates a woman who knows how to please him, and not only fumble in her desperate ignorance of what she does not know when she chooses to love with him. He knows that if such a worldly girl chooses him for something more permanent, that means she wants him as her man -- that she believes that he is the one to keep her happy, just as he chooses her. Just as she has found that he can keep HER happy - for that is every bit as important and even more. It is then a better bargain that they make, fair to both. If it is the longest pairing that they contemplate together, that is when the door opens to their longest happiness with each other and not before, because then each one will have made the right choice for the right reasons. Make no mistake, Sabrina, the type of man that I speak of has little use or patience for a virgin anymore, no matter how lovely the package might be. That kind of man tires of their fumbling and foolish tears very quickly. The ones who insist upon you being inexperienced are the ones who fear or know that they would be found wanting by any woman who truly knows what she wants. A true and worldly woman only needs a man like that for as long as he can remain hard - and only the once. I wouldn't waste my time on a man like that, because I know that he would try to control me and dictate to me what I am to do for him. All that I waste on a man like that is my spit in his eye as I leave him." Ximena smiled, "And what is the word for such a woman, Sabrina?" She watched the soft brown eyes open a little in realization. "Why, then such a woman must be a slut!" "Just so," Ximena smiled. "Tell me, do you think that such a woman -- if she is a little careful in her exploits -- cannot find a place for herself in the highest circles here or anywhere else? Do you believe that all of the finest ladies went to their marriage beds as virgins?" The smaller woman looked up in surprise, "They didn't?" Her answer was the sweet sound of Ximena's laughter. After a minute, Sabrina said, "But I think that I'm a little afraid of the first one. I don't even know who he is yet, but I'm already nervous. And anyway," she said softly, "right now, I only wish to be with you. I feel very safe here like this with you, Ximena." Ximena smiled, "What you wish for is for us to explore each other, Sabrina, and there is time for that. This is what you want because you have known nothing but meanness. I can see that you long to be intimate with someone, though you fear it a little at the same time. You fear being intimate with a man because of your brother and your stupid father, who either was too uncaring about you, or he knew what was done and allowed it. You will not have to fear such a thing, Sabrina. I intend to be more for you than what your own worthless sister ever was. I will do my best to right all that was done wrong -- at least I will give it a good try. There will be no stupid and cruel jabbing to get past your sweet little gate by a man who feels only his need to plunge himself into you. I would never allow that. No, you will decide the time that you wish to learn how this feels for yourself, and when you have decided, then you must only tell me. I will choose the man for you to begin with, and I will be there on that night to make certain that it goes well. Stormfeather Ch. 12 You may decide that you prefer a woman's touch always or you may decide to be as I am quickly finding myself to be, one who likes both - with the right persons." She laughed softly to herself, "But then I am a slut, Sabrina. I could likely find enough to keep myself pleasured well, armed with only a wheelbarrow." Sabrina found herself laughing too at the mental picture of it. "You're not serious," she said. "I do not know," Ximena chuckled, "I chose it as a silly example at first, but they do have long handles. Come on," she smiled, "let's got to bed and you can show me a little of what you know of all of this that we might share between us, as you said. Part of me still feels no desire for it, and part of me does at the same time, though I confess that it seems to have more to do with you as a person than anything else. No tearing of shirts, no hair-pulling, and no forcing of anything from either side. I hope that is enough." ---------------------- Sabrina awoke once in her bed a couple of hours later. She sighed and drifted off to sleep again, still in Ximena's arms, feeling that she was safe. More than anything else, that was what Ximena had been trying to instill. The next time that she awoke, Sabrina found herself alone, though well tucked in as the weak first light of the dawn came to her past the edges of the window curtains. Ximena stood at the door and smiled back once before she left the room. --------------------- "Well, where is Stormfeather, then?" the old woman asked as she sat herself down to her breakfast. She laid her books down beside her plate and cutlery. "I'm up and out of my bed for the first time in a long week and it's all because of him. If my Amy's taken a husband, well then I insist on meeting the man properly and not while I'm lying at death's door." Ximena smiled as she held out a large cup of steaming coffee to her employer, "They left just before dawn, Maeve," she said, "All that they told me was that they were going hunting. They took Miss Winky with them. They just saddled up and left." "Hunting?" Maeve snorted, "And you believed a pack of tales like that, Ximena? What the hell can you see if it's still dark? They're not hunting, you sweet fool girl, I know my own great niece and I've had me a look at her man. The only things they'll come back with will be their own sloppy grins, I'll wager. I'd lay odds that the only thing that they're hunting is a quiet place to fornicate, the two of them." "Now Maeve," Ximena grinned in spite of herself, "that's not a very nice thing to say, is it? You know Amy, she's always loved to hunt. And now she's got a man who loves that just as much as she does, that's all." Oh, trust me, Ximema," Maeve grumbled again, "They're out there someplace under a tree, copulating up a storm." "How do you know that?" the housekeeper said with a barely concealed grin, "I know that you're a very wise woman, and I've always looked up to you because of it, so I'd really like to know now, Maeve. Why do you say that as though you're so certain?" Maeve picked up her cup and brought it to her lips, "It's not AS THOUGH I'm certain," she huffed, "I AM certain of it. They're screwing, Ximena, and I'm damned sure of it, too." "How then?" Ximena chuckled, happy that Maeve was back to being her old irascible early morning self. "Because I've seen him," Maeve growled, "and that's what I'd be doing with a man like that, back in my day." She winked as she took a long careful sip, "As sure as sin, I wouldn't let a man like him get away if I had to tackle him, leastways not until he'd nailed my backside to the ground a few times, for damn sure." The comment burst Ximena's composure, and she laughed until her sides hurt. The sound of it caused Maeve to grin, since it had been her plan all along to make Ximena laugh because she loved to hear it. The sound also made Sabrina laugh, and Maeve suddenly noticed her for the first time as she stood in the corner, sipping her own coffee and looking out of the window to see it when Amy come back. "I thought you said that they took this Miss Winky with them," the old woman smiled. "That's not Miss Winky," Ximena chuckled, "This is an old friend of Amy's from Portales, Maeve. I'd like you to meet Miss Sabrina de la Cruz. She met Amy in the town there, and Amy hired her to teach at the school. She rode back with Amy and Arn yesterday." "Is that so?" Maeve smiled, "Well you come on over here if you please, Miss Sabrina de la Cruz. Sit down with me and have some breakfast. Ximena can whip you up most anything that you'd want, or you can show me that you've got a little good old common sense and have a hot bowl of porridge with me. You have a bowl of this every morning, and you'll live to be a mean old bitch just like I grew up to be. And who wouldn't want that? It's good for you and it'll stick to your ribs." "I think I've got enough on my ribs for the moment," Sabrina said, meaning that she was not thin like her friend Amy. "Only up top," Maeve smiled as her eyes took in the cleavage on Sabrina for a moment. What was there wasn't terribly large, but it was plain that Sabrina wasn't exactly under endowed. "Fair enough. We'll skip the porridge today, Sabrina." She laughed a little, "Come on over here and sit with me anyway. I don't feel much like reading all of a sudden." Sabrina sat down and after a bit of a friendly argument, it was decided that Ximena would prepare some bacon and eggs. "Please forgive me for asking," Sabrina said, "but what you said, would you, ... would you really want to do that in Amy's place when you were younger?" "What?" Maeve asked. "Oh probably. I learned a long time ago, when I was younger than you, my young friend, that a girl ought to take her pleasure whenever and wherever it comes to her -- as long as she's not obvious about her own business and she can pick her time of month. I was never one to stand and try to be a part of the wallpaper if I found a young buck who fancied me if I felt the same about him. Why do you ask?" Well, it's just so different from the way that I grew up," Sabrina admitted, "that's all." "Sabrina has lived her life under a very strict set of rules, governed as the lowest living thing in her family," Ximena remarked with a bit of how she felt showing clearly. "She has asked me to help her adjust to life here, and I'm happy to take her under my wing." "Well that's certainly good to hear, Ximena," old Maeve said, as though she'd arrived at a decision herself. She looked at Sabrina and winked, smiling, "You just learn whatever Ximena offers to teach you, my girl. Something that I've always been a little proud of, when it comes to my housekeeper, Sabrina, is that she knows how to carry herself in almost any setting. She knows when to stand up and speak, and she also knows when to duck and run if she needs to. Ximena knows instinctively when to fade back, and when to stand out, at any given moment. That's just one of the abilities which make her so good at what she does." Maeve leaned a little closer and spoke in a whisper that was plainly meant to be heard. It was said in that way so as to add to the effect of her words, "And Ximena also knows how and when to enjoy herself. She might run this house like a ship for me, but she is a valued servant and a very dear friend to us, Amy and I. When she takes a man for herself, we always admire her choice -- for as long as it lasts, and we cast no judgment. We know that one of these days, she'll find the right one. In the meantime, she has her fun and we enjoy our speculation, wondering if the latest one might just do the trick for her." Sabrina had watched Ximena a little carefully, waiting to see if Maeve's words would cause her any discomfiture. She was a little surprised to see that the lovely housekeeper wasn't shy about what was said in the least. She remained the beautiful and slightly enigmatic Latina, whose pride and grace showed in her bearing and confident poise. "Your posture could use a bit of work," Maeve observed with a nod to Sabrina, "A lot hangs on how a woman carries herself," she said, "the way that she stands and her attitude. Look at Ximena. She's perfectly relaxed and at ease, and yet, every stance that she assumes is as a pose which has been struck with absolutely no thought to it and every one is quite fit for an artist to paint." "That is part of what I wish to learn from her," Sabrina said, earnestly. "Sabrina has agreed to be my pupil," Ximena smiled, "so I'll have a servant of my own for a little while." "That's good," the old woman said as she turned to Sabrina, "That's a quick way to learn. It has nothing to do with servitude -- it just teaches graceful movements and offers a lot of opportunity to practice what is taught. You do know that some of it will of necessity be somewhat uncomfortable, don't you? Has she explained that to you?" "Yes," Sabrina blinked through her spectacles, "I wish to learn quickly and Ximena told me that it has to be that way then." "It does, Sabrina," Maeve said, "but to learn it in that way produces lasting results." "And also dull aches and pains in one's shoulders, neck and back for a time," Ximena nodded, "It's the price which must be paid." Sabrina was about to say that she understood, but their attention was drawn by the clatter of nails on the wooden porch. Ximena stepped to the door and was almost pushed aside as the red wolf nosed it open wider and trotted in, sniffing for a moment at the smells of food before quickly finding the new human sitting at the table. "Well what in the name of creation is this?" Maeve stared, not wanting to move for the moment. Sabrina laughed as she tousled the animal's ruff and ears, "Not what," she chuckled, "This is Miss Winky." Maeve regarded the happy canine face for a moment, "Well she's a beauty, "she said, more as a pronouncement than an observation as she reached for the plate of bacon on the table. "You might want to be a little careful if you're thinking about offering her anything," Ximena warned with a smile, "Amy says that she's wild, that's all, and she's very quick." "I can see that," Maeve nodded as Winky's eyes snapped their focus onto the single piece that the old women held out for her. "I can also see that she's not stupid," the old woman said, "She's a very smart girl who knows what hangs in the balance." Winky eased herself closer and stretched her neck out, taking the small piece of bacon very carefully in her teeth and easing herself back before she began to chew it in a very pleased and yet thoughtful way. "Don't give her very much," Amy said from the doorway, "I don't want to spoil her. It's best to leave her wanting -- for her, and everyone else." "Fiddlesticks and malarkey," Maeve pronounced, slipping the wolf a second piece. She slapped her hand on Winky's shoulder and they all heard the dull thump of the solid bones and muscle underneath the furry skin. "Look at her," she said, "why I don't even know how she managed to crawl up the porch steps in her weakness. She's all skin and bone, the poor thing. She just needs a little love, that's all." Amy frowned a little as Winky sat down beside Maeve's chair and looked up at her new friend and benefactor. The look in her eyes spoke volumes of her opinion and joy at finding such a fine and noble acquaintance. The three of them stared at Amy as she stood in the doorway. "What sort of clothing, ...?" Amy smirked, "Oh please, I made Arn dress up in clothes that would keep the people in the streets here from losing their minds, since it's a bit out of the usual these days for a man to dress in the way that Arn normally does. That doesn't mean that he has to give up what he's always known, does it? I did marry a man whose background and culture is different from my own, you know." "Fair enough," Ximena said with a smile, "but does that mean that you have to give up what you've always known?" "Maybe," Amy replied, "You might not understand it, but he made these things for me and they feel wonderful to wear. They're not all about keeping me bound up and hidden away like what you and I have to wear around here. I love wearing these things. If I had to make a choice, Ximena - one or the other - I'd choose clothing like this any day" "They make you appear a little wild," Ximena chuckled, "it's as though you were captured as a child and reared by a tribe somewhere." Amy smoothed out a wrinkle in one of her leggings before she looked up, "So?" "What Ximena means is that you're dressed as more as a savage than as a -" Amy looked at her great aunt, "A woman of the fashion around here? A woman who has to dress in some slavish fashions from Europe which seek to keep her half tied up so that she can't run if she feels like it or finds that she needs to? I've always hated the styles that make us look as though we don't have any feet. They're kept hidden away as though women are creatures who can only glide along in some mysterious way because God forbid what might happen if a man actually sees that we have legs. Why, he might get it into his head that he'd like us to spread them for him once in a while. I'd like you to tell me what they're all thinking anyway, Aunt Maeve. You can call it savage all you want to. I know there are fine women among the people who wear clothing such as this - even their simple dresses are more practical than what you have to wear. What a woman wears shouldn't cause another of us to look down our noses at her. I'll wear what I want to," she said as she walked into the room, "I always have, haven't I? I know what to wear and when, depending on how I wish to be seen. There was nobody out there this morning but my husband and I, and away from here, I sure won't ask him to wear clothing that makes him uncomfortable. Don't ask me to be any different." "Well I like the way that you look," Sabrina grinned a little as she reached for the long rear flap of Amy's breechcloth. She lowered her head a little as she lifted the deerskin section, "What are you wearing underneath that, anyway?" Amy lifted the section to show that she wore another, shorter one underneath. "Out there," she pointed to where they'd come from, "comfort and practicality speak pretty loudly to me. You ought to try it sometime." "I actually think that I'd like to, sometime," Sabrina grinned a little shyly. Amy's gaze fell on the three books lying one atop the other next to the old woman's place setting. "What are you reading?" Amy asked. Maeve moved two of the books aside, "I'm only reading this one," she said, holding it up, "I've just received it and it cost me a pretty penny, too." "Maeve searches the world through various book-dealing firms for strange books and texts to add to her vast collection," Ximena smiled to Sabrina, "some of the titles alone would curl your hair. I can say that -- and I only dust them on the shelves." "This is an old one, hardly printed at all," Maeve said proudly as she set her glasses on her nose and read out the title, "'The Secret Commonwealth of Elves, Fauns and Fairies, A Study in Folk-Lore and Pshychical Research' by Robert Kirk, M.A. Minister of Aberfoyle, A.D. 1691" "Do you believe in such things?" Sabrina asked. "Why not?" Maeve asked, "There are many things on the Earth which refuse to be either defined or ignored by so-called learned men. She set the ancient book down carefully and picked up another. This one was old in appearance as well, but it looked to have been well cared for and at present, it had a red ribbon tied around it with a bow. She held it out to her great niece. "I had no warning that you were on the verge of making such a serious committal with a man, my dear, and I have been confined to my bed as well, so I had no time to devote to finding a gift for you. I hope that this will provide at least some amused enlightenment." Amy thanked Maeve and held up the gift. "Al-rawd al-'atir fi nuzhati'l khatir", she read, "Holy cow, Maeve that's a mouthful. How am I supposed to -- " "The first part is in Arabic," Maeve smiled, "the translation is the second half." Amy's fingers flew to find that part, and she read out the title slowly in a little amazement and awe, "The Perfumed Garden of Sensual Delight by Shaykh Muhammad ibn Muhammad al-Nafzawi". She began to read a little as her great aunt smiled, and Amy's eyebrows rose higher after a few moments. "Holy smoke, Maeve, this is a -- " "A manual by which men and women might learn to please each other. It was written in the early 1500s in the city of Tunis by a learned man. It was first translated into French and then into English," the elderly woman grinned, "And you're welcome." "Thank you," Amy whispered as she bent to kiss Maeve's cheek. "I'm sure that you've already figured out at least a few of the things in there," Maeve smiled again, "but the rest should prove amusing and interesting." "By the way," Maeve asked "How many?" It took Amy a full second to deduce what her great aunt had meant. "Oh," she said, "just one, but he's a nice size," she said, standing aside from the doorway to point to the javelina carcass which her husband carried on his shoulders as he headed toward the shed to hang it before it would be butchered. "I've no doubt of it," Maeve smiled, a little pointedly, "but that's not what I meant when I asked. What I meant was, how many times?" Amy clicked after another second and she smirked as she walked to pour herself a cup of coffee. "That's none of your business, Aunt Maeve." "You're quite correct," Maeve chuckled, "it's none of my business at all, though your happiness is a concern of mine, just as it's always been, Amy." "Well thank you," Amy smiled over the rim of her cup. "I was just going to use your answer to illustrate a point," the elderly woman smiled back, "that's all. Purely as an --" "You're a nasty old biddy," Amy laughed, "If I was in Portales, "they'd talk about me in a rotten way and make something up. Are you going to hold my doings up as a point of pride? What are you going to illustrate -- the number of notches on my bedpost?" "Something like that," Maeve grinned with a nod through the doorway at Amy's husband, "He's a red-hot wonder to just about any woman breathing, Amy. And I've heard you described as a cool drink of water on a hot day by some men around here. I was just wondering, that's all. When you get to be my age, ..." "Oh for Pete's sake," Amy chuckled, "Once, alright?" "You see, Ximena?" Maeve cackled, "I was right. They were fornicating -- just as I said." The other women laughed until Maeve looked at her great niece a little narrowly, "Just the once?" She smiled as she looked off toward where Arn stood washing his back and shoulders, "You must have done it out in the open, in some tall grass, probably." The others laughed a little more as they watched Amy's jaw almost fall open. "How the hell do you know that?" "Oh," Maeve said airily, "It's just something that comes with a bit of age -- common sense and a little wisdom," she smiled, "when you're young, you don't care much what you're lying on. Once you get a little older," she nodded, "you learn to do it under a tree early in the day if you're outside. There's no wet morning dew on the grass under a tree. Your hair is wet at the back." "Well where the hell do you think the javelina was then?" Amy grinned. "He was under the only tree for a long way around when we saw him. We only saw his head and shoulders over the grass because he'd mounted a sow." Ximena stared at her friend a little. "You mean to say that you shot a wild boar while he was, ... isn't that being just a little cruel?" "I don't think so," Amy said, but none of them said anything for a moment. Stormfeather Ch. 13 **I couldn't find the Latin invocations which might have been in use at the time, so please try to overlook that. ~shrug~ Also, try to bear in mind that certain types of human relationships weren't as out there as they are today. The story is set in 1876. This chapter is all about who versus what. The Book of Werewolves was written by Sabine Baring-Gould and published in 1865. 0_o --------------- "Amy," Maeve said, "while Ximena is busy with the doors and windows, I want you to bring the two tall candles here from the big shelf there. Set them here on the table and light them. Miss Sabrina, please bring Ximena's box of cigarillos here and place it on the table in front of her chair." She looked at Arn, "And Stormfeather, please sit down directly in front of me so that we face each other." All of them did as was asked, the three younger females casting wondering looks toward the elderly woman. Only Stormfeather did not, as though he knew and was cognizant of what was to come. No one said anything for a few minutes as the two looked at each other, though there was no tension between them at all. "This is not exactly the sort of conversation that I'd ever thought that I'd be having in my life," Maeve said quietly, "but it's got to be said." She placed the last book on the table face-down before Stormfeather a little carefully, before she reached into her pocket for a few other articles which were in a cloth bag that she drew out and placed on the table as well. "People vary widely in their temperament, intelligence, knowledge, and ability," she said, "Some are too innocent to know any better, and many are too stupid to care at all about things which can pass by their senses unnoticed -- unless something which they try to ignore confronts them, or bites them on the backside." She drew another, smaller book from her pocket and laid it down before herself. "Since Amy returned from her trip to bury her father -- my poor nephew -- I saw that something in her had changed. My Amy has been such an important person in my life from the day that her father brought her to me. From her description of her vivid dreams, I learned of you, and though I didn't let on, I also knew that what she'd said must be true. I knew that you lived and walked the Earth," she said as she looked at Arn. Amy's eyebrow knitted together instantly, "What do you mean, Aunt Maeve, that there's some old Irish legend about just him or something?" Amy's question caused Maeve to pause for a moment and consider. But then she laughed, "No, at least none about Arn specifically, though God knows there are plenty enough about everything, I suppose. I only said it badly," she chuckled, "I meant that there was a werewolf abroad, a real one, and that he was here someplace." "I confess that I didn't know what to do, because I could see that there would shortly come a time when she would feel herself compelled to go to you. I was wrong about the reason, but I was certain that she would go. I argued against her leaving to go back there, but anyone who knows Amy knows that once she's taken it into her head to do something, little things like the reservations of others do not even touch her, never mind cause her to change her chosen path. I had a great many fears. I wondered if I would ever see her alive again." she said, with a little waver in her voice that the thought of it brought to her, "I wondered if there was someone who I might hire to follow her, thinking that she might need protection, but I knew enough from the old legends that there was likely nothing that could be done, and anyway, there was no one here that I could trust to send who could convince her to abandon her purpose. All that I had were the misgivings and fears of an old woman." She sipped her coffee and smiled a little uncomfortably. "It caused me a lot of trouble and worry, and so I took certain steps which I believed to be right and correct at the time. I sought to learn about you at first. She shifted herself a little in her seat to find a more comfortable position, "Now? Well, I have learned a few things about you, her, and myself as well." She sighed a little, feeling her own discomfort and embarrassment for what she felt that she had to confess. "I made a few hurried trips around town. I went to the telegraph office and sent a cable to the single most reliable dealer of books relating to the secrets of antiquity that I knew and, receiving a favorable reply, I beseeched them to send me what I asked for on the fastest ship that they could manage to have my purchases placed aboard for the purpose. That vessel landed at New York, and from there, my very expensive package was carried via rail by a courier sent by that firm's offices there and delivered to me personally here." She watched his eyes flick down to the book and then back up to her face. Maeve nodded, "This is one of the books that I bought. Please turn it over, Stormfeather, and read its title." "I know what it is," he said, "I can sense it, but though I can speak many tongues which I have had to learn, "he smiled, "I have never learned to read any one of them." He reached and in a second, Amy gasped as she read the title and he placed his other hand onto hers. "You need to let your indignation pass, Sheena," he said, "It does you no good here and now. Maeve wishes to express her regret and this is her way." The old woman nodded, "I am very sorry to you both for what I have done, and it's worse for what I was given as a gift afterward. I want very much to ask for your forgiveness, both of you." Amy felt her anger fade from her and she picked up the book for a moment, looking at the binding. She set it down again and looked at her great aunt a little sadly. "The Book of Werewolves," she said, "You were seeking for ways to kill him when he got here." Maeve nodded. "There are things which are for men to learn about and things which ought to remain hidden, but not impossibly so," she said, "lest there come a day when they are needed. This book was published only recently, and it is more of a compendium of tales and happenings in various legends. There is very little here on the ways of killing the subjects of the book -- other than what I might have already known anyway." "And are they needed now, Aunt Maeve?" Amy asked, "Do you think that Arn needs to be killed?" "No," the old woman shook her head, "I was wrong. I was wrong for thinking it," she said, sadly. "I was wrong for acting on my own fears, and for preparing to attempt it in order to save you." She took a deep breath and let it out. "And I was wrong in my assumption that the one who you have wed was something evil. What I have learned is that he is rather more than the tortured creatures that this text deals with." She looked up into Stormfeather's eyes, "Perhaps most important of all, I have learned that this person is not a something at all. He is someone who has done me a kindness such as no human can. I worked myself into such a state as the days went by," she said, "It grew far worse when you said that you were going back to your farm. My package arrived, at huge cost to me for the transport of it across half the Earth to my hand. After you left, I worked my worry to ever new heights, since I now had something to read and grow my fear with. I now believe that my attack was caused by that fear and worry and the state to which I took myself in my own anguish." She smiled, "I think now that it was a fitting and just judgment on me, to lie like that and not have half of my own body under my control. But there was a strange gift hidden in it. I changed, "she shrugged, "I have no name for it, but since I was like that, I was able to see and know many things which I would otherwise never have been able to envision. She smiled, "As an example, I know that the little braids which you both wear in your hair today is an old custom from far away to show that a couple are newly wed. I'm sure that there's no person or book in this town where I could learn that. I simply know it. I also know that you and Ximena have an issue between you which must be settled, or there will come a day when your friendship will be at an end. Neither one will want it, but it will come anyway unless her inquisitiveness is satisfied and soon. I don't want that to happen, and at the same time, she must learn what she wishes to know in such a way that neither of these two will be overtaken by their fright because that would ruin more than one friendship and make things difficult for another relationship that I have seen in my mind, for Sabrina has been a friend of yours for so very long." Amy and Ximena looked at each other, knowing what was spoken of, and yet, not daring to bring it into the open between themselves. "If it is to be saved," Maeve said, "then please, Amy, go and bring your sketches of the two of you here so that Sabrina knows what she might expect. It would allow a lot of things to begin to be settled." Within ten minutes, Sabrina had seen all of the drawings, with Ximena explaining the things to her that she knew about. They both looked repeatedly from the drawings to the living couple and back to the sketches again. "You can't really change yourselves to look like this, can you?" Sabrina asked, looking as though she thought all of this sitting in a darkened room on a sunny morning was beyond the absurd. "He doesn't care what you might believe," Amy said, "but I brought you here offering you a chance to teach at a school that would allow you to because I know that you can. I want you to have a life of your own. While I don't care what you believe, though it might cost me a long and dear friendship, what I care very much about is that you can at least master your misgivings long enough to begin. For that, you'll need to live here long enough to earn a little money before you find a place to live -- if that's what you want to do. And for that to happen, Sabrina, you're going to have to accept him at least a little bit, and you'll both have to believe me when I tell you that nobody here is in the slightest danger from either of us. It's going to require your silence on the subject as well. So if you can suspend your misgivings and keep the knowledge of it to yourselves, then I'll keep my own about the two of you to myself." She shrugged, "I'd do that anyway. You know how I hate gossip." "What do you mean?" Ximena asked. "My aunt just said that she knows about you, though not in so many words. She's not stupid about the ways of the world or its inhabitants, so she won't mind your carrying on in her home. Arn and I wanted a little more wine last night, and I saw no need to bother anyone over something that I could get for myself. So I came downstairs to pour a little more into the pitcher. That took me past your rooms and I can tell you that there's nothing at all wrong with my hearing. The door to Sabrina's room was closed and I assume that it was locked as well, but there is the keyhole, isn't there? And you left a lamp burning." The women looked at each other and then Sabrina lowered her gaze. Both of them were blushing furiously. "Stop it," Amy said flatly, "I'm not an idiot either. What's wrong with what you were doing? Not a thing to my eyes, but that sort of thing would be seen as pretty scandalous to most narrow-minded folks, I think. I'm actually a little happy about it, though I can't explain why, exactly. I'm just saying that you have something between you that ought not to be spoken of in this town, though I'm sure it happens everywhere. If you're happy, then I'm happy for you. It's the same with Arn and I, that's all." Stormfeather regarded Maeve for a moment and then he spoke. "I know what you would ask soon, but I am not certain that it is the best thing to do." "Everyone has their little problems," Maeve smiled, "and almost everyone has their little secrets. Those who have no secrets at all deserve pity for a life poorly lived. I have my own, though they are long in the past, too far back to even speak of anymore, and they are warm memories to me." She looked around the table, "Other than myself," she smiled, "everyone here has their secrets alive today. Our two friends here are on the brink of something which they never thought possible, and though it will shift from what was originally agreed upon between them, it will last their lives long, regardless of which men come and go in either of their lives. I saw this days ago, before they'd even met. Yesterday, I awoke in my bed and I saw you at first, just as you are here. But I knew that there was more to you. Next, I heard the voice of my great niece, Amy. But when I looked, I saw Amy as she can also look now, though she stood at the foot of my bed just as she is here at the time. I could see everything. When I looked back to you, I saw you as you appear in Amy's drawings." "But," Amy said, astounded, "you didn't look afraid! I couldn't tell that you knew." "Amy," Maeve smiled, "I'm at a point in my life where nothing matters much anymore, where every breath is a gift, because one never knows if there will be another after that. What could you do to me -- if you were a crazed beast -- kill me? I will pass from this earth soon enough anyway. There's no need for me to fear anything." "But for all of what you say," Stormfeather said with a small smirk, "you do not trust entirely. You are here now to test us," he said, indicating the objects on the table with his hand. "Only a little," the old woman said, "Mostly, these things are here so that my dear friend Ximena can believe." "Not entirely," he smiled, "there is a small pistol in the right pocket of your robe." Maeve looked down to the tablecloth for a moment. "You're right," she smiled with a shrug when she looked up. "I bought it and had it prepared in my foolishness and fear. I'm a little afraid to pull it out now. I wonder if I can trust myself to just lay it on the table here, or if I'd just , ..." "An unpleasant thought," Stormfeather said, "it holds two shots, both of them silver-tipped. There would not be enough time to shoot one of us, cock the pistol, and then shoot the other -- and that is even if you do not miss. For my part, do what you will -- as long as you shoot only me. If you even think to shoot Amy, ..." She shook her head, "No, you misunderstand. I prepared this when I thought that I would only have to deal with you. I know better now for one thing, and I don't want to shoot either of you for another." "I see," Arn said, thinking for a moment, "Then set me your tests." Maeve nodded her agreement as she slowly brought out the Derringer and laid it on the table before resting her hand near it. "Lift that book there in front of you, if you can." "Arn," Amy said, "don't even touch it. I don't care what Maeve believes. Let's just leave. You don't have to prove anything." He shook his head, smiling at her, "Think." Amy sat still for a moment, and then she looked at Ximena, who shook her head vehemently, "I didn't ask for this. I didn't know anything about it." "No," he smiled, "but Maeve and I want to do this to earn your belief and your trust." "Then what's the pistol for?" Amy asked. "It is to allow Ximena to feel safe when I change, so that she can see what I look like outside of a picture," he said as he picked up the book. "Do you know what the book is?" Sabrina asked. He shrugged, "A holy book to you, "he said, "I cannot read, as I said. Since I do not know any of the words in it, there is nothing for me to fear about it." "It's the word of God," Sabrina said. "Your god," he shrugged with a blank look, "If I gave you the words of my gods in your hand, what do you think would happen?" "Nothing," Ximena replied and Sabrina nodded her agreement. "Then why are you looking at me as though you expect something to happen because I hold the words of your god like this? Tell me when I can put it down." After a minute where they all felt a little foolish, Ximena nodded and he set the bible back on the table. Maeve handed Arn a crucifix. He studied it for a minute, but kept his questions to himself and handed it back. Sabrina removed a religious medallion from her neck. Amy rolled her eyes but Arn nodded with a smile. "What am I to do now, Sabrina, put it over my head and wear it for you, or only hold it in my hand?" Sabrina looked for a moment, "Your neck is too big. Please hold it in your hand." "I set my own condition," Stormfeather said, as he removed the pendant from his own neck. He held out his hand to Sabrina. "I will hold your symbol if you will hold mine at the same time." "What will happen to me then?" the girl blinked nervously. "Not much of anything," Amy said, "the same as will happen to him." "But how do you know that Amy?" Ximena asked. Amy shook her head a little sadly, "Listen to me, both of you. You've both known me for a long time. I'm trying really hard to get past what I feel to be something of an insult. The reason that I'm not even really angry is that I think that I can see it from your side. I'm trying to allow you your superstitions. You really need to try to understand how I might feel. I know that this is something that is hard for you to do, but please, if my friendship means anything to you -- either of you, then please try to see past them." She leaned forward to make certain that she held their gaze, "If this was really such a terrible thing to you -- such a great fear that you hold, then tell me how it is that the two of you were able to stay in this house at all last night, knowing that he was here. He couldn't have been that much of a threat. When I first mentioned Arn, Maeve told me that what I'd dreamed about was a horrific thing, didn't she? Well, he's obviously not insane, and the horse that he helped to birth is right out there in the stables, so that proves that at least some of her old legends are wrong, since he raised the horse and didn't kill him. Right now, I can see that she's changed her opinion and she's trying to help you to change yours. What will happen if you both trade your religious symbols will be nothing. Nothing will happen." Before either of them could think of a reply, Arn took the medallion from Sabrina's hand and dropped his own pendant onto her palm. Sabrina recoiled just a little for an instant and then she sat staring at the metal piece. "What is this?" she asked. "It's a really small hammer," Amy smiled, "it represents one particular god to Arn and through that, it represents all of them. It's not the same thing as the Holy Trinity, exactly, but it's close enough." She reached for both of the symbols, "What do you suppose might happen if they actually touched in my hand? Think one or both would burst into flames or something?" She transferred Arn's pendant so that she held both. "Oh well," she smiled, "no fire." She handed Sabrina her medallion back and Maeve pulled a small glass bottle from her pouch and set it down so that they could all see the cross on the glass surface. Amy stared at the thing, "Oh come on, Aunt Maeve, ... really?" The elderly woman smiled, "I hope that this will be the end of it. This is holy water, drawn from the well and blessed by the padre only a week ago. The bottle is full and the stopper intact." "What is that?" Arn asked, "I do not understand." "Another symbol, though it's important," Amy replied, "It's water which has been blessed. I think they'll want to pour some on you to see if you'll melt or something." "Ah," he said, nodding, "well do as you must then," he smiled. Ximena took the bottle and pulled the stopper. She shook the bottle at Arn and as she did so, she made the sign of the cross and spoke the words. "In nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritūs Sancti." Stormfeather Ch. 13 Arn winced a little as a drop of it landed in one of his eyes. Ximena sat back and watched as Arn smiled at her. Nothing happened. "Would it help anything if I were to drink it?" he asked after a moment. Ximena shrugged and held it out to him. He poured a little into his hand, "I do not understand this custom, but ..." he flicked his fingers at her with a grin. He shrugged then and tipped the bottle back down his throat before setting it down before Maeve again. "I would like to point something out to you, Ximena," Amy said, "You've forgotten something that I think is a little important. His religion is different from our own. It's different from Maeve's and it's different from mine. His is the only one that's different in that respect from among all of us in this room. The rest of us all share the same beliefs, myself included. I think that you've just conveniently forgotten, that's all. I really don't know what you were trying to prove with all of this, Aunt Maeve. If it's on Ximena's behalf, I hope it's working for her. I've changed a lot in the last little while," she said, "so much that you might wonder if I'm still even human at all -- since you said that you can see us as we are. But I don't feel any different inside, and I'm still the same person. I've never been any good at it," she smiled, "well, at least not as good at it as you are, Ximena, but I still believe in the same things as I always used to. I'm just quiet about it, that's all. I don't know much at all about Arn's gods, though I'd like to learn. That probably won't change what I believe in one bit. What I want to know is, can you accept my husband, Ximena, or do you think that he's something out of a nightmare?" "I don't think that you understand, Amy," the housekeeper said, finally, "I accepted your husband yesterday. I assumed that he is a nahual -- or someone with magical ability. The biggest problem for me is not Arn. It is you, if you have been changed. You tell me that it is so, but I see nothing different about you." Amy looked at Ximena sadly, "But, ... I have a strong feeling that if I show you, then it would be too much for you to accept." "I remember many times when we went to mass together," Ximena said, "The differences are only between the races of the people here. You have taken me to mass in the Cathedral of Saint Francis of Assisi, and I have brought you along with me to San Miguel Mission. I do not wish for our friendship to even be strained over this any longer. I see what has been shown to me about him, Amy. Now show me about you, so that I can believe in my friend again." "Alright," Amy said, nodding, "I'll show you on one condition because I want to see your own sincerity." "Name it," Ximena said. "I want you to put your hand on my arm and hold it there. No matter what happens -- no matter what you see, Ximena, I want you to keep your hand on me. If you lift your hand, then I'll know that your convictions are less than my own." The other woman didn't even blink. Her hand shot out and grasped Amy's forearm. "You ready?" Amy smiled, "I'll do this as slowly as I think that I can so that you're not too shocked." "Begin, my friend," Ximena nodded. Amy sat still and though Maeve, Sabrina and Ximena gasped, they were all still sitting in their seats three minutes later after Amy's eyes had gone from green to amber and her ears had grown to stand straight up as her pale skin disappeared under the dark and slightly reddish fur that grew over it. She felt Ximena's hand tremble as it gripped her arm, but she could see that Ximena made an effort to suppress the tremors by gripping a little tighter, knowing what was at stake. Amy spoke slowly at first as she turned her head to include Sabrina in her gaze, "I would think that something evil and satanic might have just a little trouble praying to God and offering the Apostle's Creed. Would it be worth anything to you to hear that?" They both nodded, and Amy suppressed her own grin as she saw Maeve nod a little as well. With that, Amy folded her hands and bowed her head. Maeve smiled, and the other two women gaped, but Amy began to recite in Latin. "Credo in Deum Patrem omnipotentem, Creatorem caeli et terrae, et in Iesum Christum, Filium Eius unicum, Dominum nostrum, qui conceptus est de Spiritu Sancto, natus ex Maria Virgine, passus sub Pontio Pilato, crucifixus, mortuus, et sepultus, descendit ad ínferos, tertia die resurrexit a mortuis, ascendit ad caelos, sedet ad dexteram Patris omnipotentis, inde venturus est iudicare vivos et mortuos. Credo in Spiritum Sanctum, sanctam Ecclesiam catholicam, sanctorum communionem, remissionem peccatorum, carnis resurrectionem, vitam aeternam." Amy's motions carried Ximena's hand along as she crossed herself slowly. "In nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritūs Sancti. Amen." She looked up, "There you go, Ximena. Now you've seen everything, including a werewolf who's got religion. I doubt it'll ever happen, but I think that if I ever got to Heaven, they'd have a hell of a time trying to figure out what to do with me. Do you want me to change back now?" The others shook their heads, staring. "No, please don't," Sabrina said in a bit of a whisper, "You're beautiful like this." She shook her head a little, "I mean, you were always, ... it's just that, ... " "I understand, Sabrina," Amy smiled. "Please, I'd like to see -" Ximena began as she turned to Arn. But her words failed her as she saw him sitting there as comfortable and unfathomable as before, a seven foot tall creature with a strangely peaceful and benign expression. It took Maeve a long minute before she found her voice. "This is the way that I saw you sitting there next to my bed yesterday," she smiled, "It's a little strange. To see you like this would have caused me to lose my bladder only days ago at the sight. Now I just feel comfort that you are here." She looked a little sad for a moment, "I know that my Amy is no longer really a human being, but it doesn't really bother me too much -- at least not as much as I thought that it might." "I can also see that the legends are all wrong -- or perhaps they concern a different sort of creature. You have abilities that most don't? Is that correct?" "I am as I was when I was bitten," he said, "What I have is just what I had before that day." His attention was drawn to Winky who chose that instant to yawn, and deciding to give up her hope for something else to eat for the moment, lay down in the corner. He placed his pendant around his own neck again. "I can feel that I might be trusted a little among you," he said, "It is something rare for one such has me." "I trust you," Maeve nodded, "I have no doubts whatsoever." "I am happy then," Stormfeather replied, holding out his other hand. Maeve reached out and felt something fall into her palm. "It means that I can show my trust in you as well." Maeve opened her hand and stared at the two silver-tipped .41 calibre cartridges which lay there. "Why do they have little crosses on the tips?" he asked. "I asked that they be put there," Maeve said sadly, "I didn't know then, Stormfeather, please --" "There is nothing to forgive," he smiled. Ximena had been thinking about having one of her cigarillos. Up to that point, she even had one between her lips, but cast her eyes around looking for the matches -- which Sabrina had neglected to bring from the sideboard. Maeve was still astounded. "I'm sure that the pistol was loaded when it was in my pocket. How did you, ...?" "I suppose that I have abilities that others of my kind do not," he grinned, "Amy herself has a few." "She does?" Sabrina asked as she looked at her friend. "Relax, they're nothing like his," Amy said, "I'm only learning a little." Her hand moved and a tiny flame grew there after a second. "Want a little help there, Ximena?" she asked, as the quarter-inch tall sprout of fire left Amy's palm to drift slowly through the air until it stopped about a foot away from the housekeeper's face. Ximena nodded, and a few seconds later, she sat back with her cigarillo lit. The little flame winked out immediately afterward. She puffed once and then she took it from her lips to shake her head a little, "I thought at first that it was only some trick, but, ..." "So if we're done here proving things to each other, "Amy said, "I think that we ought to do something useful and figure out what we're going to be doing today. I was going to take Sabrina into town for another dress and some clothes." "I have another idea," Ximena said, "I wish to purchase some things for her training anyway. I can get her the clothing at the same time." Amy looked at them both, "Training?" "She needs to be taught to carry herself better, and at the same time, I will teach her to have confidence," Ximena said, "She has agreed to it. I only have a problem with the dinner for tonight. If Maeve is to have a full meal this evening, then I want to make something very tender for her. The javelina that you brought put me in mind of cochinita pibil, but with a pork roast as I always make it and I even have the roast for it, but for that, I need the time to prepare it. The cooking is easy -- all that is needed is the time, but, ..." "Go and take Sabrina wherever you need," Amy smiled, "I'll make the roast, and I'll throw some beans and rice on the side, maybe with a loaf of bread, too, or I'll just make some tortillas. I'll have the time to bake some, I'm sure of it. I just want to see Sabrina show off the new clothes later on. Do you need money?" "No," Ximena said, "I'll just keep to stores that Maeve has an account with. I'm known at all of them. If that is alright with you, Maeve." The old woman nodded and Ximena blew out the candles and opened the drapes before she called out the door for the stable boy. When he'd come to her at a trot, he received his instructions and ran back to saddle Ruby and Sabrina's mule. ----------------------------- "It is a strange name with which to burden such an animal, "Ximena said of her friend's mule as they rode through the streets together. Who would name a mule 'Lucius'?" "Well he's too old to change it now," Sabrina chuckled, "and anyway, it tells me that whoever was in charge of naming him for the army had a sense of humor and was at least a little bit of a Roman scholar. Look at his coloring, Ximena. I'm sure that's where his name came from. He's named after a character in an old story by Ovid. He's named after a man who wanted to learn magic and accidentally turned himself into a golden ass." "Aside from the coloring and the failed magic, " Ximena observed with a grin, "a lot of men do just that." -------------- He watched as Amy began to set out the things that she would need. From what he saw, he tried to guess more about the meal, but she preferred to keep it a mystery. Arn grew a little confused as lemons began to appear on the counter, next to the jug of vinegar. Amy began to measure the small ingredients, mostly spices to a nicety almost as though she were a chemist. When she was done with them, she poured them into a bowl and handed him a pestle. "Here," she said, "Grind all of this up into fine powder, as fine as dust. Then set it aside while we make the tortillas." "Can we have bread tonight instead, Amy?" Maeve asked, "I love soft tortillas, but I'm in the mood for some fresh bread today." "Sure, Aunt Maeve, it doesn't matter much to me. Either way, I've got my assistant handy," she grinned. --------------------- "This is a little strange-looking for a dressmaker's shop," Sabrina said, looking around. They'd gotten everything that Ximena had wanted, and Sabrina now had more than a thin wardrobe of clothing to wear. She sighed, "I'll never be able to pay Maeve back for everything." "Do not trouble yourself over it," Ximena said, "Maeve has mountains of money, and once she sees what I've bought you on her behalf, I'm sure that she'd tell you the same thing." An older man approached them, and Ximena passed a few pleasantries with him for a moment before turning to Sabrina. "This is a rather odd dressmaker's shop," she said, "You'll find that it's that and so much more besides. We need to get you the things that you need to begin with me, and this is the place for that." They were shown through a door which was closed behind them. Sabrina looked around, taking in all of the dress patterns and other accoutrements of the tailor and the dressmaker's trade. It was the other things and tools that seemed far out of place there, things which Sabrina had seen many times before - in a saddlemaker's shop. "Please remove all of your clothing, Senorita de la Cruz," the man said, "I need to gather very exact measurements of your body for what is requested of me." ------------------------ "Alright, Arn, wash your hands, honey, and cut this roast up into pieces like this," Amy said, indicating the desired size with her hands. He nodded and began, but Maeve stared a little at what he was using to cut up the meat. "What in the world, ..." "That's his knife," Amy said, "you just watch him with it. It moves like it's a part of him." Maeve nodded after a moment and by then, he was rinsing the blade off again so that he could work on the habanero peppers. ------------------------------- Sabrina's mouth fell open. "Just do it," Ximena smiled, "You'll be pleased with the results, you may trust me. Cesar will only measure where he needs to. This shop has some rather famous and well-known men and women among its clientele, and it wouldn't have gotten to any sort of the kind of stature that it has risen to if there was a thing to fear here." Sabrina trusted her friend, and grew a little more comfortable after a time. The first measurement was the circumference of her throat. Next, that of her waist and her hips. She was asked to stand with her feet as far apart as she could manage without falling, and Cesar's measuring tape was passed between her legs from her navel to the small of her back. Her breasts were measured in several ways. All in all, Sabrina doubted if there was a single feature on her which hadn't been gauged and quantified in all respects. Ximena stood before a glass case, looking at some things which Sabrina couldn't see for the moment. The man stood behind the case, offering suggestions after he elicited some answers to his questions. "That one," she said, and he praised her choice as he drew it out of the case. "What's that?" Sabrina asked as the housekeeper walked over with the thing in her hand. "This is your collar," Ximena said, as though it was something of a sacred object, "This is the basis for all of what we will do to straighten you out. This is the single, most important piece. Hold up your hair." The girl's jaw dropped. "My what?" "Sabrina," the woman said, as though she was growing tired of explaining things, "do as I tell you and hold up your lovely hair for me. I wish to see how this looks on you, since I'm the one who must look at it the most. I assure you that watching me slap your face so that you fall down will hardly be the most startling thing that Cesar sees in here on any given day. If you wish, you can ride home with your cheeks glowing pink and the sides of your breasts itching and tingling from the slaps that they are about to receive if you can't learn to do as you are told fairly quickly." Sabrina held up her hair and Ximena fastened the clasp. While Ximena admired it on Sabrina, Cesar selected a piece of finished leather with felt stitched to the back of it. He placed it against Sabrina's belly and checked the length. Not satisfied with what he saw, he took it to his bench and cut some of it off at the ends. Another quick trip to hold it against Sabrina and he was at his stitching machine. After that, he smiled in a pleased way as he handed it to Ximena. "Very nice," she said as she stepped back a little after fastening it onto Sabrina's hips. "The second-most important piece." A few minutes later, Sabrina felt the chill of the thin chains which passed from collar to belt as they warmed against her skin, and twenty-three minutes after that, the bands which passed in loops under her armpits were on her with the crossbar that ran from one to the other through a fitting on the chain running up her back. Another leather-covered steel rod ran from her collar to her belt on the back side, and before she was even allowed to take a single step, there were two carefully measured straps passed from the front of the belt through her legs to the back and fastened there. "Those straps keep the belt from riding up," Ximena explained, as she walked slowly around Sabrina. "The long rod keeps your back straight, and the crossbar will urge you to keep your shoulders back. This will be uncomfortable to you to wear at first, but it will get easier after a time. You are to wear none of it, other than the belt under your clothes at the school. After the first week, you will be permitted to wear the collar as well, under garments which hide its presence. At home, you will put all of this on as soon after arriving home as possible. You will wear none of it to bed when you retire, though after a time -- if I am pleased -- you will be allowed to wear the collar and the belt." "What would I want to --" "Trust me, Sabrina, "the other one smiled, "by then you will want to be allowed to wear it. You will ache to be allowed to wear it for me." She turned to Cesar, who, if he had been listening in, showed nothing in his face that indicated that he had, or even cared to. "How long for the rest?" "About a week, Senorita Sanchez," he said, "come back in a week. It will be waiting for you then." She smiled and opened her purse. Sabrina stood docilely as Cesar showed Ximena how to unfasten everything and in what order to do it. Finally, the purchases went into a brown paper package. As Sabrina began to put her clothes on again, she pointed to her collar, "You forgot to take this off." "No I didn't, "Ximena smiled, "you will wear that home. Your blouse will hide it." ----------------- "That's it," Amy smiled, "Now all it needs is time," she said as she sat down at the table with some paper and a pencil. "Are you going to draw now?" Maeve asked. "Nope," Amy shook her head, "I am about to begin a rather important undertaking," she said as she turned to Stormfeather and beckoned to him with her finger. "It never occurred to me until today," she said, "but I've just learned that my husband can't read. So I'll have to fix that, I guess." --------------------- As they rode toward Maeve's home together, Sabrina looked at Ximena a little guardedly. Ximena said nothing for a time, but finally turned to glance toward her pupil. "Spit it out, Sabrina. Say it." "I thought that you were going to tell them to put it on Maeve's account." "Maeve does not have an account there. No one does. The trade there is by cash alone. The cash in this case was mine. The things which I bought for you are gifts from the teacher to her pupil, the same things which were purchased on my behalf for me by my aunt when I came here to learn the job. Other than her light touch on my backside in passing if she was pleased with what I learned from her about the house and how it was to be run, my aunt never touched me as she trained me. Maeve liked to watch me anyway, just as I am sure that she will like to watch you, though I will not likely be able to keep my hands off you." Sabrina felt a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach beginning. Ximena smiled as she read the girl's thoughts. "Long before dinner every night -- unless there is company at the house, you will put these things on with my help. There are some outer clothes to wear with this, but they aren't ready yet. We'll have them next week. You will wear these things and help me with the dinner. Once it is done, and all of the servants have gone home, you will serve me just as I serve Maeve, though you will do that with less clothes on. No matter what is said, you will not look away, and you will learn not to blush or otherwise show discomfiture. You will keep your thoughts from showing on your lovely face always and behave as though nothing affects you. Stormfeather Ch. 13 If you can do all of that, Sabrina," the housekeeper smiled, "you will have my praise and your reward often. When you show that you can carry yourself straighter and that you still keep your grace, then I will remove one of the rods as you progress. When you show that you need neither of them, we will move on to how to deal with, converse with, flirt with, and make love with men." Despite her inner lack of confidence, Sabrina looked over and smiled a little as she looked from behind one of her bangs, "That last one," she said, "don't I really only have to lie there for them?" Ximena looked up, as though beseeching the help of some deity for a moment as she chose her words. "That might be good enough for men such as your brother, who is nothing more than a pimple at the edge of a horse's asshole, though one who has obviously learned how to walk and talk a little. If you only want a prick, Sabrina, you need only look as far as the nearest jackass, two-legged or four, it doesn't matter much, though the four-footed ones are hung a little better, that's all and the conversation is just as stupid either way. If that's as good as you wish to be at fucking, then I'd say that I'm wasting my time wanting to teach you. I do not understand your thinking. You didn't only lie there last night." "Well that was with you," Sabrina protested. "What difference is there if you mean it? Making love is a skill," Ximena said pointedly, "learned the same way as any other that you wish to be good at. If you only want to be miserably passable, then you can just lie there and let him do all of the work. Sooner or later, you might even find one who would be happy with that, though I'd have to wonder about how stupid one like that would have to be to accept that. If he wasn't that dumb, then sooner or later, you're going to wonder why he spends his evenings coming home to you later and later until one night he doesn't come home to you at all, being AT BEST happy to drink in a bar with his friends. At worst, you know as well as I do where he would be. No. What you need to do is to learn how to tease and be able to back it up. You need to know when to be coy, and when to pounce. You need to know when to only hold onto him and let him pound into you and when it is the right time to break his back -- or the bed. If you only lie there and let him drive it, then you will only have his most mediocre performance -- and that's if he is any good, because he will know you at once for the mediocrity that you show that you deserve -- and that's all that you will get. Only once, unless you are the only female around, and Sabrina, I don't know if you have ever taken the time to think about it, but there are always more women than there are men. Some of us die in the throes of childbirth, but many more men die at the hands of other men for ten thousand different reasons. Ximena rode a little closer to Sabrina's mule. "Listen little sister," she said, "women have traded on what we are and what we have since about the second after the sexes discovered each other, and that is fine and it has always worked for us and it likely always will. There is nothing wrong with it -- if you only want a man. But if you want a good man for yourself, Sabrina, well that is when a woman who knows what she wants must find one for herself just as the man must find the right woman. That is the difference between fighting in the street and being the gladiatrix that other women come to the arena to watch. A really good lover becomes known quickly in a very quiet way. He is not happy with just a passive woman under him. He wants to please only the exceptional woman, for the same reason that that woman seeks him, so that she can please that man -- because both find their pleasure heightened from it. I used to know a man who could read a woman in her bed like a book. There is no language for what he could do, but if there were, he could quote her chapter and verse even before he took her to the places that he knew; the plateaus where he understood that she would wish to linger at before going on. He knew exactly where she was in her passion. It was such a gift that he had. He knew when to let me go on for a time, and just when to push me on. He could measure his own passion and hold himself back until the time was just right. He used to amaze me," Ximena smiled, remembering, "There were times when he would make a misstep and his release would come too soon for some reason, but it changed nothing for how we loved together because he wouldn't soften if it was the first time. I wouldn't even know until the end and he was proud and happy that he'd taken me all the way." "What if it wasn't the first time?" Sabrina asked, "What happened then?" "That never happened all the rest of the times, " Ximena smiled, "Only the first." "What happened to him? Why is he in your past?" Ximena's smile turned into a slightly sad one. "He asked for my hand, and I was about to agree to marry him, but while he was a master at loving, he wanted a slave for a wife. It is a bitter truth, Sabrina, that a man can become as haughty and stupid as any woman who always hears that she is so beautiful, and such a good lover. It goes to their heads sometimes. The smart man would never choose a girl like that for his wife, for he would likely become her slave, doing everything in his power to please her." She sighed, "I made absolutely certain that he was just that way, knowing that many women would want him, and so I refused. I already worked hard at Maeve's house. The difference is that I was paid well for it. I will not wear a man's yoke, no matter what my cunt has to say about it. But that is no reason to give up, little sister, they aren't all like that, just as they aren't all like your worthless brother," she smiled. Stormfeather Ch. 14 **Note to readers: This chapter occurs at the same time as some others and it moves around, since some parts of it are the recollections of one character over a period of about 6 months. To make it easier to understand, let's just say that at the beginning of it, Stormfeather hasn't arrived at the farm for the first time yet, and by the end of it, he and Amy have married and left for Santa Fe. So for pretty much all of the story to that point, this chapter has been going on as well. There. Clear as mud, no? O_o -------------------------- He was tense and restless, his muscles feeling cramped and uncomfortable in his hiding spot here in the thicket of grasses and bushes. He lay on his front looking at the seamed wall of the mountain. Something was very wrong here. He knew that this was the right place. This was where she'd told him to meet her. Tomorrow would be the right day. She'd told him that it would be. And so he'd come. Days early, he'd come because he needed her. At first, he'd stared and looked around, thinking that he must have gotten it wrong somehow, but he'd had the time now to go for miles in either direction, looking for the place. Nothing matched the description that he'd been given but this. The scents here matched those in his memory. So he'd stayed, hunkered down in this spot, looking out through the vegetation. It had been three days and nights now with one more to go. During that time, he'd watched as the men came to examine the seam in the rock. They didn't belong here and they knew it. They were from the other world that she'd spoken to him of, stuck here now by the seam which closed off the tunnel that they'd used to come here. They shared looks of bafflement between them as they tried to force the newly-closed passageway open again. He'd hunted them when they'd come here before sometimes, but this time, the same puzzling wall that caused him his trouble caused the end of their lives. They'd set out watchers and the mages tried to open the wall. He snorted quietly as he remembered what he'd seen. A lot of yelling words of command, followed by stinking smoke and flashes of light. Every time, it had been the same. Nothing changed. They'd gone away finally, bewildered and perplexed at something which refused to obey their little minds, leaving seven of the watchers in case something happened or someone came through. He was at least a little thankful for that. Well he had to eat, after all. He'd waited until long after nightfall and then he'd come for them. He'd approached from behind most times. One swipe of his foreleg, his long and sharp claws extending out of their sheaths for just one instant in time, connecting in the right place and the neck was broken – if the head didn't come right off, and he'd move on to the next. Simple. It became a little humorous from his side of it after a time. As they came to realize that their numbers were dwindling - that fewer of them answered when they were called - they'd grown nervous and frightened. It caused them to call to each other more often as they gathered together out of their fear. He'd left them alone then. He wanted the brightest of them to come to the realization that none of them would live to see the dawn. It always happened this way, since there was always at least one bright light in the bunch. The fear in that one could paralyze them all. As they worried and chattered to each other, they made enough noise to allow him to drag the bodies of the slain off before he came back for the rest. He'd had no trouble finding them again. He didn't even have to use his nose. They made enough noise to frighten off all of the other wildlife anywhere near them in the dark. It made this even easier. He felt it as they sent out the thoughts which could immobilize the will of complex minds such as those of the dog-creatures. It was what they'd developed and it worked almost all of the time. But he didn't have a mind like that. His thought processes were of another order and quite different. Ah well. he thought. Even frightened to death, they couldn't stay awake for too long. As soon as the adrenaline faded, so did they. Soon enough, at least one of them would doze. It was all the opening that he needed to get really close. Close enough to smell their fear. By this time, there had been three left. Three fools who had liked to lord it over the dog-creatures of their world. But that was there. And this was here, he thought; a different world. A different place. Here, many of the same creatures lived. Along with a few more types, such as himself; bigger, wilder, more powerfully built. Hungrier. He waited in the bushes and stared calmly at the one who was drifting off there on his feet, leaning back against the backs of the others. He watched as the eyes closed - and opened wide in fearful realization that he'd drifted off. And closed again. The cycle repeated itself a few more times until he saw the sign that he'd been waiting for. The fingers on the spear grew lax in the man's grip. Just as the spear was about to fall over where it had been held with one end against the ground, he sprang. The poor fool had opened his eyes then, trying to fight for wakefulness, but it was too late. He rode the three of them down in a heap, crushing one of them in an instant. It only took him seconds to stop their racket. Then he began to drag them off toward the others. The last of them wasn't dead yet and moaned as he was dragged. It didn't matter. He wouldn't last long. That was the one that he began to eat first, tearing chunks from the twitching leg muscles, listening to the cries of pain and fear. Why did these things have to make so much noise? Even a buffalo might have put up a fight, but they died fairly quietly. On these creatures, he liked to eat the legs before anything else. More meat for less work. Quicker gratification for his hunger. He moved from one to the next and took that meat first before coming back to start another round on the softer things. At over nine hundred and fifty pounds, he had to think about quick return for the effort and time invested. What was left when he was sated was a gathering of bloody pulp heaps, but he didn't care. He didn't hunt at night all that often, since his eyes weren't particularly well-suited for it. But hunting these things was easy. You just had to gather a bunch for a good meal unless you didn't mind trying to pick their bones clean. He didn't like it, but he'd been there before too. Besides, the night-time was cooler and there were no flies around to get in his eyes or up his nose as he ate. When he'd eaten his fill, he drifted back to his hiding spot and settled into it to continue his vigil for her. The next day, the men came back, calling out to the dead ones. It was a little while before they'd noticed the blood trails there in the grass. By then, the collection of smaller predators and scavengers indicated the location of the carnage pretty well. He didn't know it, but they were trying to determine the nature of the beast which had killed off the watchers. Considering that a dozen hyenas, one or two assorted wild dog-packs, and about thirty vultures were working over the kills then, there was nothing much to be gained by looking. One of the mages was singled out to watch this time as they went on in their desperate search for the way back. The man stood still there in the clearing before him, looking around and trying to probe with his mind, seeking the dog-creatures they blamed for this. He felt the probing, but kept his mind as still as the earth. Let him probe all that he wanted. What was lying here waiting wasn't what he sought for. Finally, he'd watched the mage come right to him – right straight in his direction, but he held himself stone-still, not even tensing his muscles. He couldn't believe what he was looking at, seeing that the man wasn't looking through the pattern of the vegetation. He didn't think that he was hidden all that well. A good look by anyone would likely reveal the slitted cat's eyes looking back. Here in the dark of the bushes, his eyes were wide slits. Out in the bright sunlight, they narrowed down to round openings. It was why his kind hunted mostly in daylight. This fool was about to urinate right in his face. It was a bit much to sit still for and so before the mage's stream had even begun, his wailing scream did. Bowled over onto his back, he shrieked piteously for the few seconds that he had anything to shriek with. The others were well over a hundred yards off by then and had a long run back through the grasses to try to save their comrade. He looked around quickly and saw what he wanted. Rolling the softly wheezing man onto his side, the beast sank his long teeth in deeply and trotted off quickly and a little awkwardly. When he had everything set, he watched the scene before him. They searched rather quickly – too quickly to see the one fresh blood trail that had been left there for them among all of the older dried ones. They backed away and left hurriedly, looking around at all of the bushes as though they expected their own deaths to fly at them from there at any moment. If he had the capability, he would have laughed. Why didn't these idiots ever look up? After a long enough look to be certain that they were leaving, he looked at the man there on the tree bough with him. The young mage regarded him with the knowledge that he had only seconds left to live and now watched passively as his end came to him. The predator leaned his face close to sniff and lick a bit of the blood from the young face, dragging his rough tongue over the barely fuzzy cheek. He wondered about it for a moment. The only ones who might possibly have enough power to even cause him to feel a little distracted were the older ones who had survived long enough to have developed the ability for it. But then, by that point, they'd lived long enough to be able to order the young ones into situations such as this, being cowards themselves. He didn't care. He thought it was a stroke of good fortune. The young ones tasted better. He wouldn't have bothered with all of this, since he was still full from his hunt the night before, but the young one had forced this, being too shy in the middle of nowhere to urinate out in the open. He regarded the face in front of him, noting that he was fading fast. So he fixed his eyes on the eyes before him and lowered his head as he opened his jaws wide. The man's face remained a little impassive and from a third person's perspective, it might have looked a little sexual. But it wasn't. It was only business and the man closed his eyes as his manhood was ripped free to be snapped up and swallowed as though it was nothing. The eyes opened again and the last breath gurgled out of him as the long teeth sank into his belly to begin savoring the softer tissues. The men might have missed what would have been rather obvious signs as they'd searched for him, but there was no mistaking what was going on now as the earth at the base of the old tree was covered with the blood which poured down. But there was no one there to witness it. He gave a thought to eating the legs of this one, but didn't bother. Maybe later, he thought. He jumped down and ambled over to a place on a bit of a rise. After a good and careful look around, he sat and cleaned himself before slipping almost silently back into his watching place. He thought about her. It was unnatural, their relationship. They were two different kinds. At first glance, she'd looked exactly the same as these fools that he'd just hunted, only one of the smaller type. He'd almost killed her the first time that they'd met because of it, because the signals which his senses brought to his brain said 'food' to him. It was an almost automatic thing, but she was far brighter than that and saw her own peril in time. As he waited, crouched to spring, he'd watched her come a little closer and then stop as she watched him carefully. He couldn't figure out what she was being careful about, other than maybe she was smart enough to know that she'd be dead if she tried to run now. That would be too much for a sight-hunter to watch. What he saw was a female, and not a particularly large one. He was a little disappointed. He didn't really see enough there on her to make it worth his while to kill her. She changed her shape – right there in front of him – and became one of the wolf-creatures before his eyes. She spoke to him softly and even he could hear her praise of him in it. She'd gathered her considerable courage and to his consternation and absolute amazement, she'd done something that he'd never have guessed in his life, something which none of her kind had ever done knowingly. She'd approached him. If he'd been sitting, she'd have had to look up at him. She was only about an inch or so taller than he was when she stood on two feet and he stood on four, but her body was much smaller than his, overall, and it didn't seem to dawn on her that he could end her life with a single motion. He'd stood there quite still, completely astounded, as she'd walked up and looked straight into his eyes and he saw no fear there at all. He saw something else which bewildered him a little. She'd slowly reached for his head – huge in comparative size to her own and she'd stroked him, making soft cooing sounds the whole time. He didn't know her speech, but he knew that the sounds that she made were from her heart. It came to him in an instant that this wasn't an accidental meeting, beyond the time and the place of it. No, she'd sought him out. He knew that after a bit of thought. He'd known that something was tracking him, but had given it no thought, since he was pretty much at the top of the food chain. Scavengers were always tracking him, looking for an easy meal. But her kind were not scavengers. They were predators, just like him, only smaller. She'd been tracking him for days, leaving the trail only when she'd needed to eat. After a hasty kill, she was back on the job, hunting him, but for what? She'd opened a sack that she'd carried on her shoulder, and reaching in, she produced some morsels for him; antelope hearts and other things which she'd seen him eat and savor as she'd tracked him. She placed two on the ground, and he leaned down to sniff before he lay down and stretched himself out beside where she stood. What did he have to fear from her anyway? He could move on from her treats to eating her in a heartbeat. He just hated eating the dog-creatures unless he was starving. Even then, they were too hard to kill easily, so it usually wasn't worth his effort. He began to eat what she'd brought him slowly while she put a lot of thought into weighing her odds of success or even survival. They seemed to change to her by the second, since his kind was well-known to be unpredictable. The next time that he paid her any attention, he saw that she sat on the ground beside him, offering him another, holding it very carefully at one end to him. He'd leaned for it slowly, and when she'd seen his mouth opening, she'd lowered the gift and brought it up again before he'd noticed to place it carefully for him just behind his lower teeth on his rough tongue. She spoke to him all the while, sometimes laughing a little with obvious pleasure. He watched as she'd pull out another offering, lick it carefully and take a little bite of it herself before offering him the biggest piece. As he ate, she pet him and cooed to him, scratching his ears or softly stroking his cheek. There were moments where her life hung in the balance, he'd thought. If it hadn't been that she'd seemed to know just where to scratch, ... He was astounded at her lunacy as his eyes regarded her body. He supposed that as these dog-things went, she must be an attractive one. Even he liked her form – and he wasn't anything even close to what she was. Her fur wasn't like his, but he liked it anyway and it did smell pleasant. She didn't have enough teats, but he didn't care. She sat with him and fed him, taking a little for herself every time, until what she had was all gone. He wondered what she'd do now. If he'd been really hungry, she'd already be dead. But she'd been watching him carefully. She could have made her insane introduction at many other times, but she'd chosen this one time because she knew that he wasn't particularly hungry. He decided to give her a pass and allow her to live as he rose to his feet but she stayed right near to him as he walked to the small river there to drink, chattering softly all the way. She'd made a show of drinking with him as though something like this happened every day here. In actual fact, it had never happened before at all. No other creature, other than the largest mammoths, would ever risk having their heads down if he was in sight and close by. He wondered if she was suicidal. The next thing that she did was every bit as reckless as the last, he thought. He'd been just about to lick his paws and clean himself after his meal when she'd reached around his face to pull it to her own. This was almost too much, but he'd allowed it in order to see what she would do next. He was almost expecting a new wonder from her by this time, and she didn't disappoint him in the least. She brought her own face close to his – still whimpering and cooing softly – and she began to lick his cheek. It took him several seconds to realize her purpose. She was cleaning him. When she was satisfied, she moved herself to get to his other cheek and she began it again. He grew to enjoy her efforts and held himself still for her. When she was done, she leaned in and began to lick his lips very softly. He was shocked. Who would want to clean death-dealing jaws like his? Not even females of his own kind behaved like this. It was a long time before he responded in any way, but he did eventually, since she did this in a way that he'd never felt before. He thought that she'd stop, but she didn't. She sighed deeply and held onto his head, going on for a long time. And then she'd hugged him, throwing her arms around his neck and nuzzling her face against his as she made her soft chittering sounds. He could even see that her eyes were closed for a moment as she did this. In spite of his earlier wonder at her quite obvious madness, and after puzzling over what there might be that was wrong with her for this behavior, he now gave in and began to purr in his deep and loud way as he laid himself down again. She laid down and stayed as close to him as she thought that he would allow, rubbing her face against his now and then, chittering happily. Just then, a careless young hyena nosed out of the nearest bush. Almost before he could register it, she was on the poor thing, though she did allow him to leave with his life. She came back to him and stretched out beside him, leaning against him now and quite obviously proud of herself. They stayed like this until the sun went down. He dozed while she kept watch. But he'd only been dozing, not sleeping. And he'd only been dozing now and then. Mostly, he'd been lying down with his head up and his eyes almost, but not quite closed. Being what he was, he never gave a thought to his intelligence. He never thought about it. He'd lived this long, so if it had occurred to him to wonder about it he'd have had an answer for himself. He'd never claim that he was the smartest of his kind, but, ... He hadn't gotten this far along in his life by being stupid. He was wondering what it was that the crazy female was going to do now. He saw it as she sat near to him, watching what was going on around them. She'd look up into the branches of the tree that they were under, and then she'd glance at him for a moment, but never for very long. She'd look away across the grasslands at something, and after a minute or two, she'd look at him again. Things like this can make a male like he was nervous. He wondered if he ought to run her off so that she'd leave him alone. What was she doing here with him anyway? Stormfeather Ch. 14 From her side of it, she was thinking much the same thing. The thing was, she wasn't here to convince him that she was crazy, though she was sure that it was how this must appear by her behavior. She actually had a plan. She wasn't here to try to tame him, though that would have been a lot more convenient. She wanted to find one of what he was in order to see if it was possible to develop some kind of friendship. She wanted protection and was prepared to give a lot for it, and after a lot of thought and self-doubt, she decided that she wanted that protection enough to try something as insane as this. She was tired of being hunted by mages. That was why she was here, besides feeling more comfortable in a wilder place. Mages and watchers seldom came here. To her way of thinking, she'd lost far too much to them already. That was why she'd thought of this desperate plan. She'd given herself about a little less than an even chance at success. This might work, and then again, it might not. The trouble was that in the event of her failure, the odds were long against her surviving the attempt. For all of her long hours at observing his kind, she only had something of a very loose handle on how he'd react, and she knew that if she failed, she'd likely never see the end coming to her. These things were just that fast. But there was a complication – a serious one, too. What she was after would require a clear head at all times. She'd just thought that if she could earn a little of his friendship, then she could maybe maneuver things to go her way, and if that worked, then she could maybe feel something emotional in it for herself. That had been her hope and her plan, anyway. But watching these creatures for a while to learn their habits had given her an appreciation of them. By now, she could tell the brighter ones from the dimwits, the weak from the strong, and the ones with drive and spirit from the lazy and self-absorbed ones. So she knew what she was looking for, she thought. And then one day, she'd seen him and everything went out the window. He was a little older and could handle himself. He never gave in to rage, and she could see that he fought the way that a master would play chess. There was no such thing as wasted motion to anything that this one did. Every move was calculated, even in the middle of a fight with another of his kind. He knew exactly what he could expect in terms of tactics and he had proven counters to every move and blindingly fast follow-ups that few opponents walked away from – ever. She saw more than elementary problem-solving ability in him. Other than for the simplest quandaries, these things weren't supposed to have that, but he did. Not that he'd shown that he 'd been aware that she'd been watching, but she'd seen things which told her that he wasn't particularly cruel – he was just usually hungry, and given his size, she thought, that was understandable. But then she'd begun to appreciate his body and made what was perhaps the strangest discovery to her, and it had nothing to do with him – other than that it concerned the way that she saw him. All things considered in light of her plan, her cross-hairs settled onto him with a loud click. She wanted him. Her problem was supposed to be what she was going to have to do about getting him. Her other problem was that she wanted him far too much for her own good, and that wasn't even supposed to be possible. Everything had been going along fairly well, considering that he hadn't taken her life yet. But now she came to the part of her strategy where she'd try to get a lot more of his interest, and given what they both were, this was where she knew that the highest likelihood of failure lay. This was where she'd be taking her life in her hands at any moment and risking everything. And this was where she couldn't tear her eyes away from a thousand details about his magnificent body. She'd been trailing him for a month or more, learning all that she could about his habits. She'd have thought that seeing the same one over that time would earn her at least a little immunity. But right here, this close to so much masculine power in one body, what she had in mind seemed absurd. She'd seen females of the right kind take swipes at each other impatiently for a chance at having him notice them. Half of them weren't even in season, but they'd been hopeful anyway. What chance did she have? She wasn't anything like what he'd be looking for. She could see that he thought that she'd lost her mind for the way that she'd been acting. She looked at him again. She'd become obsessed and she knew it. She just couldn't help herself. His lips had felt so good against hers, ... He'd been just about to allow himself to doze a little more when he saw it - or thought that he did - the moment when she'd made up her mind and gotten her incredible courage and daring on-side at the same instant. He watched through almost closed eyelids as she turned herself around very slowly to face him, and her paw drifted slowly down between her thighs. She was looking at him. He watched as her eyes moved from one part of him to another, sometimes lingering on something for a moment or two before moving on. She brought her pawed hand to her mouth and licked it for a moment before bringing it back down to tease herself. He wondered if she knew that he was watching her. It was possible, but it didn't make much sense. Then again, by everything that he'd ever learned in his long journey in the business of staying alive in his dangerous world, nothing that she'd done so far had made any sense at all to him. He let his mouth open a little as he often did so that his tongue could slide out a little and he pretended to pant just a bit as though from the heat. He did it as a test. The day was cooling off already. He just wanted to see what she'd do. She noticed it and stopped instantly, freezing in place. She stared at his eyes, but he kept them still. She must have assured herself that she was still unnoticed because she began again a moment later. It didn't take long before her own eyelids drooped a little and she opened her own mouth. If he listened hard, he could just hear her soft panting. He was surprised, but he knew what she was doing. He just couldn't understand why she would do this now, right here. It was almost as though she felt a want for him. Why would she? There wasn't anything at all wrong with her from what he could tell about her. A female like her probably had her choice of many of the males of her kind. Then again, he thought, if they were as nutty as she was, she might have to wait a long time for one to notice her. If they were anything like her, they were probably all busy trying to screw termite mounds or something. What she did seemed to leave her a little unsatisfied, he thought, because she slowed down after a while and stared at him again, looking at his paw on the ground for some reason. She stopped what she'd been doing and leaned forward onto her knees very slowly. Alright, he thought, now we'll see just what she really has in mind. She was creeping closer to him very slowly. He didn't tense, and the only reason for that was that he couldn't see any way that she could really harm him. If he thought that there was a way for her to do that as she came nearer, he'd end this nonsense by ending her life instantly. He forced himself to be still and not flinch. She positioned her knees on either side of his foreleg, most of the way to his elbow with great care so that her sex was directly over the back of his paw. If this wasn't a test of his self-control, he didn't know what was. He had to fight off the need to open his eyes and stare, but he came to a decision. If she urinated on his paw, he'd kill her for it. But she didn't. She only lowered herself incredibly slowly and began to move her hips a little as she brought herself down. Eventually, he felt her mound begin to graze across his knuckles very gently, back and forth. It all made sense now. She was using him to pleasure herself. He didn't know whether he ought to feel disgust or honor. He decided to allow it. It wasn't a bad thing, necessarily. Any of her scent which she might rub onto him would only help to mask his own. He watched her face peripherally as she kept moving in light contact with him. He could tell that she wasn't finished with her amazing show yet. She turned her head to look at him and he watched her mouth close on her lower lip as she looked at him. He didn't even have to strain to hear her soft breath now. She decided to go for broke apparently, and she very carefully placed her paws on his shoulder. He guessed that she was too far gone in her need to do much more than throw the rest of her caution to the wind. He held still for it, though barely. Part of him wanted to bat her away and the rest of him wouldn't dream of it, fascinated now by the languid motions of her back and her hips as she leaned into him a little more so that her breasts could graze against the short thick fur on his bicep. She seemed to like that a lot, he decided. This crazy she-wolf might be nuts, but she was the most fascinating creature that he'd ever seen, hands down. He was actually starting to like her. And she was starting to forget herself completely, because she laid her head down on his shoulder facing him. From the corner of his eye, he could see that her eyes were closed and she was lost in her pleasure. Her motions against his paw were no longer subtle, and they certainly weren't gentle anymore. She was riding his paw hard in her need, pressing down now with more than her light body weight. She was driving her mound down against him. He turned his head and opened his eyes fully. He had to see the ending of this show. Her mouth was open a little and her breath whistled slightly over her teeth and the full weight of her head was on his shoulder as she worked herself harder and then he felt her release begin to come to her. One of her thighs was just against the side of his foreleg and he could feel the tremors as they began. He thought that she'd better be at least a little careful now. The ground here wasn't baked hard by the sun. That was why they were here, after all. It was comfortable. But the way that she rode him so hard now was pushing even his wide paw into the dirt and if this continued, she'd be dragging her tender parts through the dirt. He did something a little unusual for him at that point. Life here was hard and even for someone like him, death might be hiding just around the next boulder. Almost every creature tended to think about only themselves unless they were mothering their young for a time. The cost to him was nothing, so he gave a thought to her for a moment and stiffened his paw so that she couldn't push it deeper into the dirt. The result was instant. He hadn't though about it at all, but it made things even better for her and she went to town, throwing her head back and bucking hard with her eyelids clamped tightly shut. He was sure that she didn't mean to, but she brought her vocal chords into it then and she began to grunt quietly. He could feel her thigh vibrating against him just as her head went so far back that he was afraid that she'd break her own neck and the single loud moan that came from her throat raised his hackles as she froze mostly, though he could feel that her mound was still making slight motions against his poor knuckle. He hoped that there would still be at least a little fur left on it. Suddenly, she remembered just where she was and her eyes opened wide as she stared into the darkening sky, frozen completely still. Her head came up in horror and she saw that he was looking at her. It didn't take any thought on her part at all to realize that he must have witnessed almost all of her little exhibition. She wondered what had gotten into her, but tossed the thought instantly. That wasn't the problem. The problem was, what was she going to do now? They looked at each other. He felt her thigh tense. He knew that she was going to jump just about straight up and run for her life. He'd give her just a second longer to choose her moment. He knew that his other paw was out of her field of view, so he flexed his pads wide and felt the claws slide out of their sheaths. There was nothing that he enjoyed more than a test of his reflexes. He felt the beginnings of her motion and it was over before it had begun, really. She tried to jump up and backwards, but he shifted his weight instantly and before she was even aware of it, she'd lost the race. His other paw was in her mane, on her shoulders, pressing her down. She struggled for a moment, but he only increased the pressure. She'd either stop fighting him, or he'd snap her spine. It would be her choice. She was so different and he'd decided that he liked having her around him now. He really hoped that she was bright enough to be able to make the right choice. She stopped and he eased off just a little. Then he began to pull her toward his shoulder, the one that she'd had so much fun leaning against. She tried to resist, but it was no use. Every time that she'd thought to move in any other direction, his strength was there backed up by his claws, countering her effort. He kept up his slow pull and he finally felt her breasts touch his bicep. She'd turned her head as her face came near to his huge shoulder. There was nothing else to do now but watch as he decided her fate. They looked at each other's eyes and she felt his pressure ease off more until he began something which completed her surprise and her fear and horror faded from her. He leaned his face closer to hers and he licked her lips. She stared for a long moment and then she closed her pretty eyes and sighed as she realized that he wasn't going to kill her for her transgression. He felt her relax against him and she even began to rub herself just a little more against him as she reached to touch his head. She sighed again as her tongue slipped through her lips to glide over his. He even knew what she was thinking, though it surprised him a great deal. He didn't know her reasons for all of this, other than perhaps that she was needy and had been overtaken by it. But the way that she melted against him so comfortably now spoke volumes. He liked the way that her paw held his head and he even felt it when she opened those pretty eyes again to look at him while their tongues danced. They couldn't speak to each other - he couldn't speak, after all, but her soft sighs told him enough. She knew that he liked her and that he wouldn't hurt her. He'd even tried to force her past her panic to show her that it was alright, and for that alone, she thought that he was wonderful. She slowly got up a little and made a bit of a sensual show of her long slow slide downward. When she rolled onto her back in front of him, she kicked him very gently a few times in a playful way so that after a moment, he'd had to reach out to her and pin her under his huge and heavy foreleg. He saw her eyes grow wide right away as she looked at him from where he'd pinned her under his claws and he surprised even himself as he'd taken a good deal of the weight of it off her a second later. He retracted his claws and licked her foot in apology. Right then, she'd surprised him again. She didn't mind being held down by him – as long as he wasn't crushing her. She even seemed to like it. Her expression changed right back to the happy one that he'd seen an instant before, but this time, there was something else there as well. He had to think about it, remembering the times when his travels had brought him near to her kind. She was looking hopeful, lying on her back and moving her hips as she rubbed herself against the underside of his foreleg. He watched her reach for his foreleg to hold it against her as she rubbed. It didn't make sense to him. His type of females didn't do this, unless, ... He stretched out his neck and brought his face closer very slowly. When she saw it, her motions became more urgent. He sniffed, detecting none of the things that he'd normally be sniffing for. But he liked what came to him, and so he began to lick her there. She let go of his leg instantly and watched him through half-open eyes. He got the same wide eyes after a moment and then he eased off a little, remembering that his tongue was not the same as hers from her earlier cleaning of him. He heard her sighs then and her eyelids closed down again in pleasure. After a very few minutes of this, he noticed her shudder and become rigid again. He even liked the strange sounds that she'd made. As soon as what she'd felt had passed, she was up and seeking him with her mouth, eager to reciprocate. He'd never felt anything like that before and he liked it, the way that she'd thrown herself down and was now licking the swelling penis there between her lips, taking him in past her own sharp and pointed teeth very carefully so as not to hurt him. And so they'd formed an alliance between them. The bond grew deeper as the days went by. They hunted together, and even he had to admit that she had pretty much taken the place of a mate for him, knowing instinctively where she had to be as they stalked and when she needed to be there. He'd hunted with females before, but never as successfully as this. After a time, he became aware that she was in his mind somehow. There was never anything deep to the conversation beyond her simple queries over how far away he wanted her to be as they stalked so that she could run the game right to him or the other way around, depending on what it was that they hunted. In a sprint, she was faster, since he wasn't built for tremendous speed, though he was fast enough. But once he got to where she needed him, whatever it was that she had begun, he always ended it quickly. And once she'd begun to eat, absolutely nothing dared to chase her from their kill. Whole packs of hyenas waited their turn, and if even one tried to run her off, he'd die for it and they'd be left to eat undisturbed. The reason for that was pure physics. Unless whatever it was that he was fighting at the time weighed well over five hundred pounds, he'd only have to connect one time to end it. He was almost eight times her weight, and almost all of that was power. His shoulders and forelimbs were massive, though overall, he was built a little more like a hyena himself than a jaguar. Still, he was a cat, and they found that they could spend long hours looking into each other's eyes, fascinated by their differences. It always led to their tongues touching and that led to, ... She'd been so thrilled the day that they'd pulled a bison down together, though she'd only just managed to get out of the way so as not to be crushed when it fell, whereas he'd only kept his hind feet on the ground and pulled the large bovine down. She was already into the side of the thing's throat when she'd seen his two long dagger-teeth sink in from the other side and they'd ended up looking at each other as they waited for the bison to lose consciousness and pass, and she spent those moments looking at his powerful limbs holding the bison immobile. Looking at him like that made her wet for him. She'd never reacted to anyone like this in her life before. She'd have needed a pack like herself to do this, but it wouldn't happen anywhere near as quickly, but for him it was only a bit of work. Once the bison was dead, she'd amazed him again by licking him hungrily while he rested to get his wind back. He'd nudged her gently with his nose in thanks and when she'd looked at him, he'd reached out a little ahead of himself to slam his paw down purposefully and look at her. Stormfeather Ch. 14 It took her a minute, but then she'd made that laughing sound of hers and she'd wrapped herself around his bicep and began the show that she knew that he enjoyed to watch so much. She loved to do this for him, rubbing herself hard on the back of his great paw as much as she could until her wailing release came. He'd never given a thought to something like this before, but he found himself caring for her quite a bit now. Eventually, he found that she could call him to her if she had the need. It had enabled him to save her life more than once. They never went to sleep hungry, and they never went to sleep wanting as he learned what her noises meant and why she made them. They'd even found a few ways to copulate, thanks to her inventive mind and after everything, he was happy to let her lie against him, between his chest and his foreleg as he held her close protectively. She seemed to need that from him and he was happy to provide it. She was insanely happy in her response to his frequent need to mate. All that he had to do was reach for her slender hips and she was wet for him almost instantly. Doing it in the normal fashion for what he was would have crushed her, but they'd found ways. If he pulled her hip with his wide paw in the night, she eagerly wriggled backward against him in anticipation. He'd never done anything like that before either. He'd never tolerated having a female sleep this close unless the night was bitter cold. But it worked for them and that was all that mattered. If they found the right kind of female for him, she hung back, never getting in the way, never even getting close, so that he could have the time that he needed. She stayed on the periphery, out of sight mostly, waiting for him to return to her. And he did, every time. Because of her, he now didn't feel the need to hang around to develop any sort of family structure. He already had one. She was his family. She did things that no ordinary female could do, and she proved that she was his every day. It had happened twice that her presence was detected by other females of his kind, and they'd tried to kill her or run her off. But she was too fast to be mobbed or cornered and then they'd found that the male that they'd been hopeful to have had suddenly turned murderous. He'd defended her fiercely and they'd gone off together, leaving the confused females licking their wounds behind them. After a while, he stopped looking for females. When he came across the scent of one who might be receptive – or soon would be, he took it as a sign of competition for food rather than opportunity. He was happy with her, this strange dog-creature who quite obviously loved him. When her own heat came, she didn't even seek her kind. She only made it clear that she wanted him more often – continuously if at all possible. When they ranged far in their search of food, it became apparent that she couldn't keep up with him – not over very long distances, and so he allowed her to ride on his back. It gave her a better view to look for game anyway, and she used the time to refine the way that they could communicate in their minds. She told him that she was happy with him and would always want him, but that she had to leave for a short time. She promised to return soon and that she would call to him in their way. He understood, but he was saddened. The day that she left, he watched as she went off into the hole in the mountain, telling him that it would be better that he not follow her – yet. She would tell him the time and they'd be together again after that. She'd mentioned the number of days, wanting to see if he could now keep the count. She'd taught him many things as she rode on him. He was unaware of what she'd been doing for most of it, but finally, he'd had to admit to himself that she was a sort of mage herself. She was happy with what he was, but she'd been busy trying to shape his mind so that he could think beyond hunger, or whatever the motivation of the moment was. She'd told him that there was more power locked away in his mind, and for what she had planned for them, it would be needed. They sat side by side one day looking out over the plain and he was listening to her voice in his head as her thoughts intruded on his. "Do you see those smaller cats out there?" she asked. "Smaller cats? To me, yes, but they are larger than you are," he'd replied. "I know," she answered, "How many are there? How many can you see?" "A few." She looked at him, "How many is a few? I see four. Look at me," she thought to him as she sat back on her haunches a little more, "How many is this?" He looked at her finger, "One." She held up another finger, and he answered "Two." But after that, until she held up five, he only said "a few," and after that, his answers became "several" until at ten fingers, he answered, "Many." She sighed and he asked what was wrong. That was when she began to teach him how to count. Coming back to the present, he groaned quietly. While he waited, he remembered the events of the day before she'd gone. They were still as she lay on his huge chest. The way that his ribcage was made meant that a large part of her was lying uphill and she quite liked that about him for the way that she could look at him from there – that, and the way that he'd let her lie on him like this in the first place. He'd learned how she loved to ride him as she'd done, fucking herself on him frantically. It always amazed him just how desperate she could be about it now and then, riding him for all she was worth, as though their lives depended on her efforts. From her side of it, she was in heaven. Somehow their differences worked in their favor like that. Well, she'd smirked to herself, in her favor, really. She'd never been able to really let herself go in this position with anyone before. She'd always had to hold back at least a little, or they'd complain that she was hurting them, the way that she always liked to grind herself hard against them. It caused an almost painful shearing sensation in every male that she'd done this with. Only a minute or two of that, and they'd complained. Not this one, she smiled to herself, not her big boy. She could let herself go as wildly as she wanted, loving every stroke, and he'd only roll his hips down and hold himself that way to present himself better for her. His paws had been holding her for a while as they rested, but he'd raised them over his head to stretch languidly and it had upset things. She'd felt too good to do anything about it and she'd slid off slowly to land on her side against him and roll onto her back. He'd looked at her a little curiously. "Are you alright?" he asked in her mind, wondering if something might be wrong. "Hmmm," was her audible reply. He took it to be an affirmative response, so he got up to drink. She opened her eyes to watch the way that his wonderful body moved. He was upside down from her perspective, but she didn't care. They weren't even made for each other. She didn't care about that either. She just knew that they needed each other. He was the most magnificent example of his kind that she'd seen and they loved each other – a good thing, considering how much she craved that wonderful thing of his. She groaned to herself quietly. My God, she thought, now she wanted him again... He came back to her, still upside down to stand a little beside her, looking down and savoring what he saw. "How did you know that this might work between us?" he asked, "We are nothing alike. Our kinds are often enemies if food grows scarce." "I didn't know that it would work at all, I only knew that I wanted you when I saw you. I have always liked to live wilder. I come from a place where things should be as clean as possible. I've never liked that as much as I love being here with you and taking life in my teeth. I have never been so happy as I am when you hold me after you have mated me in the dirt and grass. It doesn't matter," her soft voice came to him from inside his skull, "I will tell you of another place where I come from," she said in his thoughts. "You will not understand some of the words for things, but I will try. I did not begin like this – like what I am. When I was small, I had a cat. She was my little friend. We didn't care that we were different. My father kept rabbits in a house in the yard. I didn't understand what was happening, but one day, my cat went into her heat. She climbed right over the fence and I spent the whole afternoon watching what she did with our male rabbit. It went on for days, and if she couldn't get to him because she was locked inside the house, she would try to scream the door off its hinges. I remembered my cat from so long ago when I saw you for the first time." He watched her lips pull into an upside down smile after a moment, "Except that now, I am the cat, I think. I always need you." "What happened to the rabbit?" he asked. "He lived happily ever after," she chuckled, "fucking all of the girl rabbits, but he would leave them all alone if his special girlfriend came for him. My father told me to keep my cat inside when she was in heat, but Mama and I often opened the door for her then. She said that she just wanted a little peace and quiet, but when I spoke of it to her when I was older, she told me that she didn't know why my little cat wanted the rabbit so much, because she wasn't a rabbit and it shouldn't have worked, what they did together, but sometimes we want and we love who we love." He nodded after a moment and then he lowered his head to lick one of her nipples. She groaned and stretched before she reached to hold his head there. He'd learned to lick her softly if he wanted to mate, but he also knew that she liked his rough tongue on her breasts for a little while and it always guaranteed that she'd want him. He really didn't need to do that, but she'd never tell him. He liked her breasts and they definitely liked his attentions. If he licked her lower down, she'd lose her mind in joy and hold onto whatever she could get of him until he'd finished driving her mad. He'd learned to do that for her whenever he wanted a long slow coupling, and by then, she couldn't think of anything nicer. Over the time that they'd been together, he'd gained in his ability to think and to reason through problems. Now, he didn't think quite so much as a beast anymore, and more like a being who was aware of things outside of his view. He'd queried it, asking her why one day as she rode on his back, not long before she'd left. Her answer had humbled him, while at the same time causing his huge heart to soar. "Because you are a regal one, with great strength and ability," her quiet voice came to his mind, "You are kind to me and kingly and I love you so. Your mind does not work like mine or others like me, and if you would allow it, I would make you a king among my kind if I could. A mighty one like you should make cubs, many cubs, and I am sad that I cannot give them to you, so I have never minded whenever you have wanted to mate with a female like yourself. But I will never allow another one of my kind to mate with you. I would want to die first." "I have already made many cubs," he thought back to her, "I am not young." "No," she agreed, "but you are still at your prime, and you are shrewd, knowing how to fight, and more importantly, when to strike and where. I am not young either." "Perhaps not," she heard in her mind as he purred a little momentarily, "yet you have your own wonders to me. I could never look at what you are before and feel arousal. Now it happens all the time to me." "That is because you are the best mate for me," he heard her thoughts to him, "and the greatest challenge to mate with. That makes it better." She'd reached down so that she was stretched out along him as he walked, hugging him with her arms and her legs. "I am not clever or bright enough for what you want," he replied, "but I would do anything for you." "Not yet," she smiled patting his shoulder, "but you will be. You are not stupid. I knew this about you long ago. I could never find a way to speak into your mind if you were like most. You are only limited, and I can help that. I am not finished the task yet. I need to learn more myself and for that, I need to be alone. That will be very hard for us both. I am only a female of my kind, not like you, but I feel how you love me. I would give my life for you at any time, my love. No one has ever stirred my heart or my body in the ways that you do without effort. Give me this time alone, and I will give you all that I can." One day not long after she'd gone, he noticed no hole in the mountain anymore when he'd gone back to the place where he'd last seen her. He thought that he must have made a mistake. He laid his head down and groaned. But then he remembered things about her and what she'd told him. She would return because she'd told him that she would, he thought, as he lay in the grass. He ached for her in his need, but more than that he missed his mate. For all of his strength and power, he missed holding her small body against his more than anything. That had been days ago. He had only another day to wait, he told himself, and by then he hoped to hear her call to him inside himself. If that didn't happen, ... Well then, he might just have to tear down the mountain. ----------------------- She lay in her bed waiting in the dark. Her pawed hand reached for her furrow in the darkness and her body answered quickly, releasing the wetness that always came when she thought of him. It had been too long, but whenever she'd tried to think through what was needed and how to manage it, she'd been interrupted and if it wasn't one thing, it had been another. But the time hadn't been totally wasted. She'd managed the long overdue killing of the silver-haired traitor, and she'd gotten herself and her daughter out and away from the threat of the mages and the watchers. They'd met the two whose coming had been foretold, and she was pleased that they'd decided to wait before going further. She even knew one of the male's reasons. Stormfeather wanted his mate to grow stronger, both in the magic and in herself. It was a wise choice, she thought, and she concurred. She had her own reasons for wanting the delay. Her daughter had met Elijah Samuels. There had been sparks there, she smirked. She knew that it would turn out well, though. Soon enough, Elijah would fall for her Marie and be turned. Then Marie would have a male for herself again. As far as the father was concerned, well, she'd only made a show of appearing to be interested when Amy had mentioned him. She was sorry for his luck. She might have been interested if she hadn't always been the sort of girl who'd always preferred to be bedded by a male outside and the wilder the loving the better. Under those circumstances, what would she do with an old man? How could he protect her from the things that had hunted her and her family. No, she'd take a pass on that. The last thing that she wanted was to be stuck in a house and at best, trying to hold still in a nice clean stale-smelling bed while someone like that wheezed over her. She already had what she wanted and needed for her heart, she just needed to get back to him, all nine hundred pounds of furry masculine joy that he was. There was nothing that stirred her heart more than the smell of the grass and the earth that she loved lying on while that wonderful beast ploughed her properly. It always made her laugh to look back and see the way that he grinned when she'd have to crawl to drink from the river or stream because her hips and legs wouldn't hold her happy ass up long enough to walk there, and if she wasn't careful and wiggled it for him just once, she wouldn't even get to drink anything at all because he'd just start again and they'd laugh at each other over it. She stopped, her hand freezing into place as the quiet, cautious sounds made by her daughter came to her ears. The young one prepared for her night-time journey as though her intent was something to be hidden. Was she ashamed to admit her want to her own mother now? She wanted to laugh out loud at the girl. As though the thought could never come to her that Marie might go to lengths like this to get a man inside her, she smirked. She was well aware that her daughter had her little pack tied up with a loop so that she could slip it around her neck before she stole out of the house to hurry over the mile of forest and pasture that separated her from Elijah. She could almost see her hiding among the trees to get her dress on with frenzied hands so that the handsome young man could meet her in the dark woods. The poor dress, she thought. All of that only to be undone by hands just as frenzied so that they could begin their loving. She wished them both happiness as she listened to Marie's slow and carefully quiet exit. She resumed her masturbation a moment later, thinking of her male now and then. She meant Amy and her husband no harm, but for this one night, she was glad that they'd gone days before. She'd needed to explore and work out her own magic. Stormfeather wasn't the only adept among their kind. She'd kept her ability secret, that was all. With him gone, she'd been able at last to think of something, a way that she could open the wall. That had been something that she'd never have been able to foresee, the way that the cave openings had been sealed by Stormfeather. She didn't care about the other one yet, but she had to get the way open to be able to return to her male, the one that no one knew about, the one that she loved and needed so. The one who loved her as nobody else ever had been able to do before. She went a little faster with her fingers as she remembered how it was to love with him. She could do what she wanted with that one, he'd learned to trust her to make them both feel so good. And she never, ever refused him. She'd made a silent promise of it to him the moment that she saw him and decided to try for him. She never said no, though there was a bit of a hazard if he thought to begin it again late at night. She never knew when it might happen, but he could reach for her, wanting to take her from behind as they lay on their sides, so she'd learned to throw herself back toward him right away. It was the best chance to get him into the right hole. She often liked it in the other one, but a surprise like that straight out of a dead sleep? No thank you, sir. The others would never have understood, but he was the reason that she'd wanted to go to the wild lands, to be back inside of those mighty arms, where no mage or watcher could reach her without laying down his life in the attempt. It had been a selfish plan, she admitted it to herself full well – at first. But once they'd found that they could mate the way they could, it had turned into a very strong love between them. And Mother of God, what a wondrous prick that male had. She didn't know if he was large for his own kind, but given the differences in their physiology, he was plenty big enough for her, and lord, that thing was fat... Her fingers danced, since she was so close now, and she could just see it in her mind, feel the weight of it a she held it in her pawed hand and how it felt to her tongue was another story altogether. She hissed between her teeth as she came hard, lifting one leg, rolling onto her side and arching her back as her other hand flew to tease her lips from behind. She was a little surprised at how she'd heard herself moan so loudly. She was glad that she was alone now. It had been so nice, but it hadn't been him. She sighed, knowing that she wouldn't really be able to scratch up the drive to get up for another minute or ten, but she'd get there eventually. Stormfeather Ch. 14 She had all night now. ---------------------------- He was trying to bore a hole in the wall of the mountain. With his eyes. It wasn't working, but there was nothing else to do here in the night. He was about to give it up and to try to get some sleep when he felt it. He lifted his great head up and glared at the rock face once more as he thought. He felt it. There was no mistaking her call. He knew that she was there inside that mountain somehow, the small female who'd taught him all over again how to love, the one who was different and so much brighter than he was, and who never made him feel badly for it, and never tired of helping him. He jumped to his feet and roared. He had to make her hear him. He took a deep breath and roared again for all that he was worth before he heard her soft voice in his mind. "Quiet, mighty one. I want to get to you just as much as you wish to be with me. Have a little patience. This wall was sealed by a master - a mighty mage of my kind. You can't expect me to get through it like you can get through the neck of a bison, can you? Lie down and keep watch. I am coming for you." It calmed him and he sank to his stomach again and went back to boring through rock with his eyes, wishing that he had the ability to. Thirty minutes later, he saw the last of the mages approach the wall and rose silently to deal with what he now perceived as a threat to her. While he lived, he swore in his mind, nothing, no one, ... It took a long while, but after a time, he was a little certain that he could see the line of the seam as a slightly brighter line on the dark stone. The two men stepped forward cautiously. They knew that there was a large cat nearby, but they were desperate to get back. They also hadn't thought that there might be a connection that the one who had roared in the darkness was more than willing to kill them over. The first of them died as he raised some short stick that he held to point at the wall. The other one wouldn't have seen his own peril, but for the way that his companion's head had crashed into his side from the murderous cat's first strike. He reeled in horror when he'd seen the gory projectile in the thin moonlight and then he'd turned, but it was too late by then. Far, far too late. He began his desperate incantation just before the life was almost crushed out of him by the weight of the paws on his chest as he was driven down. The huge teeth that he saw coming to him took him the rest of the way as his throat left him. The large cat spat several times, licked his lips, and trotted a little closer to the wall. He looked around, trying to remember how many of them there had been. He decided that he'd killed them all and felt a little proud of that, but he felt a lot more pride when he realized that he'd been able to keep the count of them as well as that of the days. Another gift from his female. The line there grew brighter, and then he saw the surfaces part slowly. Inside the space of that, he could see a bright light, and inside of that, ... He saw her walking slowly toward him, those lovely slim hips of hers swaying in the way that could make him pant for her. The apparition stopped to stand in the opening, her long bushy tail moving slowly from side to side. He'd know that feminine shape anywhere. His female stood there as a silhouette, beckoning to him. "Hurry, love," her thought rang through his head stridently, "I cannot hold this for long." He didn't remember even beginning to run to her. The next thing that he knew, he was with her, but she wasn't hugging him – she was pulling him, straining, her words just barely sliding past her long teeth with her effort, "Your, ... tail, pull it, ... through. Move it, ... out,... of the-" He spun around, and the motion caused his short tail to slip inside just as the seamed surfaces slammed back together with a bang. She'd gone along for the ride, hanging onto his ruff the way that she'd been. It made her laugh until she noticed the blood. She asked and he told her it was nothing. She believed him. She'd always believe him, though this time, she moved her hands in a strange way and he felt water on his face as she held up her overflowing hands until he was clean. THEN she was hugging him, laughing and gasping as she did. She was all over him a moment after that. The way that female could kiss, ... ------------------------ He sat on his haunches in the dark cave. She'd surprised him at how she could make a small fire – it was something that he had a natural fear of, and it had taken her a long minute of careful explanation after he'd noticed it to ease his nerves. "I did not want to show this to you before," her thoughts came to him, "unless we needed it to keep something away from us in the dark, but we never needed it, so,..." She positioned herself so that she sat on the ground with her knees drawn up, her head and shoulders resting against the lower part of his massive chest. He was quiet out of respect for what she was trying to do, though he didn't understand it. But if she said they needed something, it was enough for him, so he sat, happy to have her against him again. "I am trying," she thought, "to make this seam just as it was before. It looks the same, but I know that it has weakened because of what I did." "Why does it have to be the same?" he asked in her mind, "It looks closed to me." "It only looks the same. Since I forced it, others may as well. I want to repair it," she thought. He looked down, seeing the soft glow and saw that she held a silver ball of liquid in her hand. "I have been thinking," he thought to her, "I have never needed to know before, but how are you called? I cannot only call you 'you', can I?" As hard as she was concentrating here, his thoughts made her smile. "I think that you must have been thinking quite a lot while I was gone." "It's true," he smiled, "I have been thinking of you. I need a word for you that means you only." "My large friend is growing wise," she grinned, "What you seek is called a name. Do you have a name for yourself?" "I," he thought in answer. "No," she laughed, "that does not work. You can't be I if I am I to myself. But I know of names for you. We are not in what you call the other world now. This is a place in a third world where all three come together. There are men here, smaller than you have seen, about my size. About thirty years ago, one of them found some bones of your kind." "Only bones?" he asked, "None living?" He felt her shake her head where it rested against his chest. "None living. Your kind has been gone from here for a long time. My kind is not even supposed to exist at all. Not enough big things to eat here anymore. But we can live here. Together, we can find enough to eat, though you, my huge lover, will need to learn to eat other things besides only meat. I have also learned that your kind was given names by that one man. The names are in a dead language, used by wise men to prove that they are wise." She saw his huge maxillary canine teeth first and then the rest of his large face as he looked down at hers. He looked funny to her upside down like that. "If it is a dead language, then they cannot be very wise," he said in her thoughts, "It makes no sense. Unless,... unless they use it because the dead will never challenge what they say." It made her laugh as she pet his cheek for a moment. "You are becoming wiser than most if you think like that. There have been the bones of two kinds found so far, and they are different from each other. Your kind is the larger of them, and the name for you is Smilodon Populator. Smilodon means 'chisel tooth', and the whole things means 'Smilodon the Devastator'. He thought about it for a moment. "What does that mean?" "It means that you are a destroyer, "she smiled up at him. "Ah," he said, as though he understood it, though he didn't yet, and before he could ask, she just said, "It means that you are a killer." "But I get hungry," he said a little petulantly and she smiled as she stroked his cheek a little more. "I know," she said, "It is only a name for the kind of Smilodon that you are." "I do not even like that name," he grumbled in her mind as he raised his head to look at the wall again, "I wish for a better one." She tossed the ball of liquid at the seam. It landed and flowed, filling the crack instantly. "Come," she smiled, "It is done. I have finally had enough time to think of what we must do tonight." She took him nearer to the fire and they sat down together. "You know that I can change what I am," she began. He nodded, "I have seen it." "To be what I am, a human male or female must be bitten by one of my kind, or born into it as a whelp. If they are bitten, they get sick for a time, and then, if they live, they become like me." "You wish to bite me?" he asked, a little seriously. "No, mighty one," she grinned, "I doubt that you would get much more than sniffles from my bite, as big and strong as you are. There is another way, and it needs a lot of magic. There is a lot right here, in the ground, everywhere, all around us here. I think that I can do it in this place. You would be able to walk like me on two legs, and if I am able, you would be able to talk like me, outside of your mind, and use magic for yourself. You could change back at anytime. Would you want this?" "I cannot see the need of it, but we are together," he said in her mind, "I trust you because I love you. If you say that it is needed, then it must be so." "You would live long with me," she offered. "What must I do?" he asked, and he loved to hear the sound of her soft laughter. "Well I am happy that I have found a thought which interests you," she chuckled. Not long after, the mouth of the cave flashed and fumed, and the forests around bounced the echoes of his cries back toward the cave. It lasted an hour or so until the flashes dimmed. There was no one around for miles in that direction and it was just as well. She hadn't hurt him, she'd just changed him, giving him what she felt that he needed for them both to live. She'd begun all of this by seeking out one large saber-toothed cat in another land beyond the caves. It had been her intent to pair with that cat somehow. She never said it, and she'd never planned to admit it to anyone, but it was for selfish reasons. She'd had enough of the meddling and pain that the watchers and the mages caused her kind in one of the worlds beyond the caves. She'd wanted something of a mating of convenience where she planned to give herself to a large male who was strong enough to protect her. She'd never dreamed of what she'd find in his large heart. Oh, she'd made him love her alright, but she'd been swept away in it as well, loving everything about him. She'd found a quiet but deep mind there and once she'd begun to feed it through her will, he became as much a thinker as he'd always been a doer, and it had made her love him even more. This magical work of hers was just what she'd seen that he'd need. She didn't know if he could help her kind or not. It would depend on him, and she'd accept his judgment in it. She was his female, after all. If he would help, fine. If not, she would go wherever he went. Her place was by his side, just as she knew that his was to protect her and go where she needed to go, if she made it clear that they had to be anywhere. She knew him enough for that. She opened her eyes and found herself in her human form. She was tired, the feeling coming from deep within her. It made her think of the tiredness after birthing her whelps, though without the physical wear and tear. She just felt weary. She lifted her head and looked at him. He was sprawled a little on top of her, but she didn't mind. She reached for his new white fur, already growing darker as she watched. When winter came, she knew that it would turn white once more. He smelled even better, she thought to herself. She'd always loved the way that he smelled as she brushed his ear with her thumb. It caused him to wake and he lifted his head to regard her. He smiled and kissed one of her breasts for a moment. It caused her to inhale deeply and smile at him as he pulled himself forward to look down. "Are you well?" she asked, "I can feel that at least one part of you is fine." He nodded and spoke his first words to her with some difficulty. They caused her eyes to fill instantly when he told her that he loved her. "Come then," she smiled softly, "Since we love each other so, please fill me. I am sure that we can fit together like this now." He lifted himself up and she gasped as she felt that wonderful part of him at her soft gate. He paused then and began to slide into her very slowly. It felt so delicious to her and he fell in love with her all over again for only the way that she groaned quietly as she felt him fill her completely. He stopped then and they smiled at each other. "I have missed looking at those eyes just as we fit together," she sighed, "and I have always wished to look at them if we could only do it in this way." She raised her legs to hold him and they began slowly. "Now I have my wish." "I am still searching for a name for the one that I love," he said slowly, testing the feel of forming words, "Tell me of her, the most beautiful and finest female that I have ever known. Tell me of you." "Elsbeth," she smiled, "I was a simple human girl named Elsbeth. I am far from where I was born and farther still from what I was then. I am not young," she admitted," but I think that I still seem to have enough charms to hold your huge heart to mine. I have taken mates before and I have birthed four whelps." She drew a breath and plunged on. "Only one of my children still lives. The mages and watchers took the rest. None of the males in my life were anything as fine and wondrous as you and not one of them could do to me the things which you can. I am Elsbeth and I am still so in love with you." "Elsbeth," he said, liking it. "I do not feel as though I am a devastator now," he said. "That was what you were before," she said with a groan. She panted a little as they began to speed up. "Then, who am I now?" he asked. "You ... you make me, ... think of... a forest spirit, .... you, .... are, ... You are Vaesen," she sighed ,"my Vaesen." He leaned down and she kissed him desperately, feeling the long teeth against her face as he felt hers, their tongues dancing to another rhythm completely separate from what the rest of their bodies were doing as they gasped and moaned. When they'd finished, he'd felt his smile against her shoulder. "Why do you smile?" she asked. "Many things," he sighed, "I have the one that I love again, and I have a better name now." --------------------------- When he emerged from the mouth of the cave holding her hand, he was still a little unsteady on his feet, not being quite used to walking this way yet, though his coordination was coming to him quickly. As he stepped outside, he stood up straight, towering over his mate at eight feet three inches of quickly darkening white fur. Elsbeth had the beginnings of another plan in her mind, though she was purposely pushing it back. This was not the time or the place. She knew that Arn would return with Amy one day. If at that point, the two were ready to begin the war with the mages, she hoped that Vaesen would want to help as well, though she wouldn't ever push him that way. She thought that together, the two males could solve many troubles. If they didn't try to kill each other. "Do you wish to hunt?" she smiled up at him. He nodded, "Yes, I could eat now." "Remember what I said," she cautioned him, "for now, let me choose the game until you know what you may hunt. There are people around here who keep cattle. They ride horses and have sheep and goats. Let me choose first." He nodded and they bounded up the slope and over the ridge together, long before the sun rose up over the ridge. Marie arrived home, a little tired, but feeling well-loved and happy. It was hours before she realized that her mother had gone.